“What? What is it?” Harry yelped, leaning as far forward as he could without falling off the bed. “What have you remembered?”

Shadow smirked at his enthusiasm, before cupping his hands in front of him and motioning for Harry to do the same. When Harry complied, Shadow gave him a thumbs-up. This made Harry sigh a little in frustration. It’s really hard having a friend who can’t speak; I can see that he wants me to understand as much as I do, but that doesn’t always help.

“Ok, Shadow, what now?” Harry asked with patience, his hands still cupped in front of him.

Shadow pointed at him. “I…” Shadow nodded and tapped the side of his head. What was that one again? Oh yeah; think or decide. “Think…” Shadow made another ‘sort of’ gesture, before sighing and nodding. Harry decided to help him along.

“So, I have to have my hands cupped for some reason, and I have to think of something. Therefore…” Harry thought furiously, completely baffled, but trying his best because Shadow seemed at a loss at how to proceed. “Ok, logically, cupped hands are normally holding something… so there has to be something which I need to put in my hands.” Harry paused, watching Shadow.

Shadow’s head had snapped up and his eyes were sparkling with renewed interest. Very cautiously he nodded, as though Harry had the right idea, but the hardest part was yet to come.

Harry sighed heavily and stared at his hands in concentration. He hoped his natural intuition as far as understanding what Shadow meant would help carry him through, especially as Harry’s future in the Wizarding World might depend on figuring this out…

I wonder…

“So, something needs to be in my hands, and I need to think about it.” Even to Harry, that sentence sounded ridiculous. “Help me here, Shadow. I know it’s hard, but please try!”

Shadow rubbed at his eyes wearily and started flicking his fist from side to side. Completely confused, Harry didn’t at first realise that Shadow was miming a wand movement. A second later it jumped out at him so suddenly, and seemed so obvious, that Harry laughed out loud.

“A wand! You’re holding a wand! So, is it something to do with mine?”

Shadow made another ‘sort of’ gesture – Harry could already tell he was going to see a lot of that gesture – and continued waving the imaginary wand, staring intently at Harry as he did it.

Something to do with my wand. Something so closely linked to my wand that Shadow hasn’t even bothered to change the gesture… And then he had the answer, so simple and easy that Harry couldn’t see how he had not realised it straight away. “Magic,” Harry breathed. “You want me to put magic in my cupped hands…” So great was his awe at the idea, that Harry missed the obvious flaw. It became apparent to him a second later.

“Hang on a minute! How the bloody hell am I going to do that?” Harry burst out. Shadow, smiling happily and looking elated that Harry had worked it out, didn’t seem to mind. The brown haired boy simply repeated the gesture for ‘think’ and, a second later, stroked the back of his wrist, holding it out for Harry to see.

“Feel?” Shadow nodded. “So I have to try and feel my magic, and then, well, think it into my hands?” A grin and a big nod. “Damn. Oh, all right, I’ll give it a go!”

Harry sat and stared at his cupped hands for several minutes trying to feel his magic. Nothing.

“Shadow? Help me!” Harry pleaded, looking up at his double.

Shadow smiled and nodded, seeming pleased with just the progress Harry had made so far, but not minding if the black haired wanted to attempt something more. Maintaining eye contact, Shadow placed his right hand directly in the centre of his chest, and then slowly drew it down his sternum until it was resting over his navel. He repeated the gesture for ‘feel’.

Harry felt a thrill of excitement. He had often heard people talk about witches and wizards having a magical ‘core’, but until this date, Harry had always thought of it as an allegory. Rather like the people who did not realise that the phrase ‘broken-hearted’ was more than a metaphor, until they had their own broken and were overcome by a very real aching pain in their chest. Like them, Harry suddenly realised that the ‘magical core’ was not just a turn of phrase, but a true thing, and Shadow had just shown Harry where his magical core was located.

Biting down on his excitement, Harry stared into his cupped hands once more. This time he did not immediately go in search for any wisp of magic he might be able to use. Instead, he sat and gradually let himself slip into a trance in the near silent room; staring at his hands and trying to think of nothing. Finally, when Harry felt he was ready, he slowly searched inward, trying to locate the area Shadow had indicated.

Long minutes ticked by, but Harry didn’t notice. He was so deep in his meditation that he was almost dozing. And then, all of a sudden, Harry felt it.

A trickle of gold twisted around his imaginary ‘fingers’ and Harry gasped at the sensation. It was like he’d plunged his hand into a very fizzy drink, or been electrocuted by a hundred little bolts of energy. It was something that tingled fiercely, something that was not liquid and not solid, but a state between the two. The sensation was both alien and familiar to Harry.

He gently twisted the tendril around his ‘fingers’ and slipped deeper into himself, following it back until…

Harry felt like he was staring into his very soul, which, in a way, he was. There was so much of the molten gold – this was the closest Harry could come to describing it in simple terms – thousands, billions of tendrils, all twisting around each other. Every second they were renewing and dissolving, all of them wound together in one massive, living core. Harry felt overwhelmed, humble, invincible, and elated, for he knew without knowing that a normal spell would only need the slightest particle of one of these tendrils to be performed.

Holy shit! Harry squeaked out in his own head. I’m powerful! It was near to the same feeling Harry had felt when Hagrid had opened his parents’ vault and had told Harry that all the gold was his. Only, this time, it was so much more, because this time Harry deserved it, all of it. This was his birthright; this was his and his alone.

Laughing with delight, Harry wound the first tendril he had found tighter around his ‘fingers’ and slowly pulled himself back to full consciousness. All the while, he was thinking with all his might about how the tendril would feel in his hands, how it would appear and curl into a tiny ball of golden light. How intensely magical it would feel.

Harry cracked open his eyes, only then realising that they had fallen shut, and peered down into his palm. There, in Harry’s cupped hands, glowing brightly, the surface shifting and coiling around itself, was a minute orb, barely a centimetre across. Harry gulped as he realised this tiny thing probably had the power to leave little more than a smoking crater in place of Tharabraye Manor if Harry so wished it.

Swallowing carefully, Harry inched his eyes up from the orb to Shadow, who was watching Harry with unrestrained awe.

“Err, Shadow?” Shadow nodded, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the ball of pure magic resting in Harry’s cupped hands, no matter how much Harry’s voice was quavering. “Shadow, what do I do with it?”

HPSSHPSSHPSS

In the end, Severus had had to go and find Aeolus. The owl had been dozing on his perch in the bedroom Severus, at his first convenience, had converted into an Owlery.

“Get up, you lazy bugger!” Severus told him affectionately, poking him with the missive. Aeolus gave him a sleepy look before shaking his feathers and looking attentive. “Deliver this straight into the hands of Albus Dumbledore, and woe betide you if you don’t!”

Aeolus hooted in acknowledgement and stayed still while Severus tied the letter to one of his legs. By now the owl was used to Severus’ curt form of address, though for the first few weeks he’d been in his new owner’s care, nipped fingers had been a regular occurrence for Severus.

Noticing his master was finished Aeolus drew himself up to his full height, opened his wings and soared out of the window. Anila looked indignant at the idea of her master choosing the new owl over her, but a couple of owl treats mollified her.

His first task out of the way, Severus made his way downstairs and outside, towards the boundaries of his home.

As with Manor Houses throughout the country, Tharabraye Manor had started out with an excessive amount of land attached to the property. However, over the many years since the house had been built, these grounds had gradually been shrunk down to the present day proportions. This meant that Severus was in current ownership of a large house, gardens which extended out about a hundred metres from the building, and a two hundred metre orchard at the back of the house.

Severus had made good use of the outside in the years after he had finished fixing up the house to his liking. Herbs and potion ingredients were grown in most every border, making some patches appear extremely exotic for rural England. Trees were dotted about here and there; according to certain plants’ preferences for damp and shady areas.

A low wall ran around the edge of the property, clearly marking the boundary between garden and countryside. Severus had attached several mild wards to it to discourage and alert him of intruders. Now, thanks to Potter, these wards had to be completely revamped. Grumbling quietly to himself, Severus pulled out his wand and set to work.

Luckily, it was not necessary to undo all of his previous wards to add the new, and Severus blessed the day he had purposefully chosen the type of wards that could be modified quickly in case he would ever have to hide from the Dark Lord.

Nevertheless, it still took him over two hours to be done; and that was only the outer wall. He would still have to raise the level of security around the house, but that was for another day.

The wards to keep out Muggles had been strengthened. The wards which would detect and temporarily nullify a magical core – giving Severus time to get down to the wall and ‘dissuade the intruder from continuing any further – had also been reinforced.

Wards to keep out any form of magical creature were created and set to maximum; Severus had had a lot of experience with the Dark Lord’s habit of using ‘exotic’ creatures to do his dirty work. And, if the ward happened to have a soporific effect on Animagi, well – Severus grinned – that wasn’t his problem.

Dumbledore had told him about Black’s learned skill after he had finished ticking Severus off about him forcing their best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to leave the school. The idea that his wards might permanently stymie the werewolf, Lupin, and Sirius Black, from finding Potter without his assistance, was a good one for Severus.

He let his mind wander as he started on the final lap of the wall, putting the Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards into place. The more wards he placed, the more repetitive and mundane his task became, so he let his mind drift back to the odious subject of Black and Lupin. He could still remember the first time he saw them both on the train to Hogwarts that very first time…

Severus had always been able to tell if someone was wearing a mask, mostly because he had worn one of his own for ever since he could remember.

The black-haired boy now sitting across from him was definitely wearing a mask. Oh, he may look jovial and act as though he didn’t have a care in the world, but Severus could tell. Every time the boy thought someone wasn’t looking, his eyes would darken and become wary, and his hand would twitch as though he wanted to draw his new school robes tight around himself.

In short, when his guard was down, he looked like Severus, and Severus was intrigued by this. The boy with the glasses by the window wasn’t nearly so interesting; he was obviously boringly normal. The brown-haired boy reading in the corner next to Severus was equally uninteresting.

“Hey, what’re you looking at?”

Severus blinked as a harsh voice dragged him out of his contemplations. Both of the black-haired boys were staring at him. Severus felt his palms prickling self-consciously. He fisted them in his second-hand robes to stop them shaking.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right! You were staring right at me! What’s your problem?” the dark-haired boy he had been studying snapped.

Severus felt anger start to boil deep in the pit of his stomach, but kept a check on his temper as this could be his chance to find more out more about the boy whose attitude had caught his attention.

“No, really, it’s nothing. I was just thinking.”

“Oh, yeah?” The boy sitting opposite him stood up, walked over and loomed over Severus, invading his personal space. “What a little liar you are,” he sneered while the bespectacled boy guffawed at the obvious entertainment. “I bet the Hat’ll put you in Slytherin before it even touches your greasy head!”

“There’s nothing wrong with Slytherin,” Severus mumbled, stung. Why was the boy acting this way? Couldn’t he see that Severus was the same as him?

“Hah! Is ‘nothing’ all you can say in answer to anything? Are you telling us what you’re really worth? ‘Nothing wrong with Slytherin’,” the boy mimicked. “Don’t make me laugh!”

Severus glared, so angry that tears of outrage were beginning to swim before his eyes. Where was Lily when he needed her?

“Leave me alone.”

“Aww, look di widdle baby’s cwying!” mocked the boy with the glasses, backing up the first.

The brown-haired boy looked up at that, but the second he caught Severus’ gaze, he dropped his gaze back to his book, his ears turning red. Severus felt a wash of righteous indignation overcome him. How dare the boy try to pretend that nothing was happening? Who did they think they all were?

The door of the compartment slid open.

“Severus! Severus! You’ve got to come and see this! One of the older kids snuck a python on board…” Lily trailed off as she took in the scene before her. The brown-haired boy next to Severus was desperately trying to hide behind his book, Severus was sitting and practically shaking with rage, and the two dark-haired boys were shaking with laughter.

“Severus!” the first boy mimicked in a high pitched voice. “Severus, I ask you! What kind of name is that?” Another shout of laughter. “Snivellus is more like it!”

Severus had had enough, and shot to his feet, groping in his robes for his wand. Lily didn’t give him a chance to reach it.

“No, Sev!” She grabbed his arm. “Go outside, they’re not worth it!”

“Let go, Lily!” he snarled at her, trying to get free as the laughing increased. Even the boy sitting in the corner was smirking a little.

“Severus, please!” she begged him. This gave Severus pause, and enough time for him to regain control and give her a jerky nod.

As he walked out of the compartment, he heard the first boy yell after him, “See ya later, Snivellus, we’ll get you when your little girlfriend isn’t around to protect you!”

The only thing that stopped Severus from turning around and hexing the bastard rotten was the sharp crack of Lily’s palm as it connected with the boy’s cheek.

Severus smirked. That day, Black had got his just desserts, but it had been the beginning of a long and bitter feud between Severus and the Marauders. It had taken many years for Severus to work out that the reason Black had started picking on him that day was precisely because the other boy had seen similarities between himself and Severus, and had been frightened by them. That certainly wasn’t enough reason for Severus to forgive him, though!

Survival of the fittest, indeed! Severus thought bitterly and abruptly turned his thoughts away from darker times.

He frowned a little as finished off the wards, worn out from all the spell-casting. The wards were nowhere near as strong as the ones around Hogwarts, but they would have to do.

Nearly sagging with exhaustion, Severus made his way back to the house. He hated it when his own magic wore him out, and hated it even more when he was left feeling helpless because of it.

Severus was normally quite a powerful wizard, but the reappearance of the Dark Mark on his left forearm caused his magic to be depleted, for the evil symbol needed a large amount of magical energy to sustain its dark presence. This magical energy was drained from its bearer with impunity, despite the fact that the bearer needed to use the energy too.

 After all, it would not do for the Dark Lord to waste energy sustaining his loyal subjects’ calling cards, would it now? Severus thought bitterly. He may never know when he may need to use it, and it’s so much more important for the Dark Lord to keep up his magical strength compared to his servants!

Of course, like anyone else who had had to deal with a handicap for as long as Severus had, Severus had come up with several tricks to alleviate the less desirable symptoms. For some reason, the Dark Mark did not like Firewhiskey.

Locating his own personal supply of Firewhiskey in the kitchen at the back of the Manor was easy enough. Severus had restocked the second he had noticed a slight darkening on his forearm. Though he had hoped the return of the Mark was his imagination, paranoia had kept Severus alive for so long that he always heeded its warning. Therefore several new bottles of Old Odgen’s had been stored under the kitchen sink in preparation for darker times.

Pouring himself a large glass, Severus gulped it down as quickly as he could, shuddering in disgust. When one comes to associate a taste with a creature as dark as Voldemort, not even the sweetest flavour in the world could make the liquid appear pleasant.

Panting slightly, Severus leaned against a counter and closed his eyes, revelling in the feel of strength returning to his mind, limbs and magic. For some reason, Firewhiskey acted as an insulator around Severus’ magical core against anything associated with Dark magic. Though this prevented him from brewing several potions that were ‘borderline’ Dark, it was a welcome sacrifice he made to restore his strength.

Flexing his fingers, Severus cast a simple Banishing Charm on the alcohol and smirked slightly to himself as the bottle responded to his command immediately.

Sighing in relief, Severus made his way down to the dungeons of his Manor, hoping to clear up the mess he had left down there, blissfully unaware that a few metres above his head, Harry Potter held enough power in his hands to completely obliterate Severus’ beloved Manor and all of its precious new wards.