Dear Luna,

Thanks for the present, it’s great and I bet it’ll keep me warm when winter rolls around! I’m keeping it safe until I need it. What did you make it from? I didn’t know you were into crafts.

Thank you for your kind words; somehow, I can believe it wasn’t entirely my fault when you say it – but I have to accept that I was wrong, that I didn’t think things through as well as I should have. It’s hard to think about what happened at the Ministry; I understand now that I put you all in so much danger, when I should have stopped and thought. I’ve promised myself that I won’t act so rashly again.

Thank you for the offer, as well. I’m going to take you up on it now, I hope you don’t mind. First though, before I start, I’d like to let you know that I’m fine and safe – just in case the Daily Prophet has run another stupid story about me.

Although, there is one thing wrong with me – I can’t talk. I mean – I really can’t talk. I’ve tried – but somehow, the words get stuck in my throat and stay there. I don’t know why, and my Host’s haven’t been able to tell me much, just something about a trauma and it being a recognised reaction.

Anyway, that’s what I want to talk about. The ‘trauma.’ What happened was that on the night of my birthday, my aunt passed away and while my relatives were at the hospital, Death Eater’s came to the house. I had to fight them; they were going to take me to Him. I think I killed them, but I don’t really remember much of it.

Luckily, I’m mostly well; one of my hosts patched me up and I’m getting better, but the parts I do remember, I can’t get them out of my mind and sometimes I freak out.

Merlin, I sound ridiculous, don’t I? Sorry.

My hosts have warned me to expect an Auror investigation. I’m not sure what to think about it. I have a feeling that Fudge will do everything he can to get me locked up in Azkaban or something. Even if he doesn’t, the Prophet will have a heyday over it all and I don’t think I can take having my life spread all over its pages again. I hate sounding like I’m whining, but I’m sick of it. I just want to live a quiet life – you know?

Anyway. So, if you see anything in the paper about the attack, just be assured I’m ok.

Sorry I sort of unloaded on you. I don’t think I’m going to get out much this summer, keep me amused with what you do in your holiday? I’d like to hear about it, if that’s alright with you?

In friendship,

HP

Harry chewed the end of the quill Snape had loaned him and re-read the letter. He thought Snape would approve of the ‘hosts’ things, rather than telling Luna who he was actually staying with. He was unsure, though, whether sending this letter was even the right thing to do. He liked Luna, admired her, but he wasn’t sure if she liked him well enough to put up with his whingeing.

Harry also wasn’t sure how he felt about having told Luna far more in this letter, than he had told Ron and Hermione in the letter he had written to them. He just felt more comfortable opening up a little to Luna than he did to his two closest friends right now. Maybe it had something to do with having put them through so much already? Or not wanting to disappoint them? He couldn’t be sure, all he knew was that he didn’t want them to know that he couldn’t talk, but he didn’t so much mind Luna knowing.

“Would Master Harry be liking me to take that for him?”

Harry jumped in surprise at the squeaky voice. Standing next to the bed was one of the House Elves, the female one from the looks of the pillow-case and her eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but after a pause, closed it again and gave her a quizzical look.

“Master Severus has asked Mozo and Bolly to take letters directly. This way, we is not risking owls being captured.” She nodded at him with a bright smile.

Harry blinked and resettled his glasses on his nose. Well, he hadn’t realised House Elves could take their Master’s mail for them as well - but the idea made sense, especially when he thought of Dobby and his attempts to ‘save’ him during his second year. Harry well knew that House Elf magic was apparently far more considerable than most Wizarding folk realised or cared even to think about.

After a brief pause, he smiled and nodded. Rooting around in the small pile of letters, he found a blank envelope, carefully folded the letter and placed it inside. Neatly addressing it, he handed the small pile of letters over and smiled again.

He’d written a single short note to Hermione and Ron, informing them that he was safe and well and to ignore the papers if they started printing crap about him again. He’d written something similar to Mr and Mrs Weasley, but had been unable to think of anything to say to Remus. His heart quailed at the very idea of writing to his friend. Instead, he had decided to leave any news of his health and wellbeing – or not – too Professor Dumbledore to pass on for him.

The Elf disappeared with a loud crack and with a quiet, almost silent sigh Harry leaned back into the pillows. The problem with being unable to talk, he had found, was that it left him with a lot of silence, which meant he had a lot more time to think. Mostly, he thought about the gut-wrenching terror that closed his throat every time he tried to speak – even when alone.

Even in the calming surroundings of what he now knew to be Snape’s personal safe house – and from Professor Dumbledore’s inferences and the way the place was decorated, he guessed it might be Snape’s family home, though he wasn’t entirely sure how that fit in with the pure blood ancestry his Professor certainly had – he still felt terrified at the prospect of speaking to anyone. Just the merest hint of Dumbledore or Snape or even one of the Elves beginning to ask a question, and he clammed up completely. He didn’t know how to deal with it all – on the one hand, it was a relief to not have to speak aloud the things he had seen, the way he had felt, the way he still felt. But on the other, he knew it was almost inevitable that he would have to answer eventually, and he was simply putting off something he felt sure he ought to just get over with.

Snape had left him alone for the most part, for which he was grateful, but which also left him more than a little puzzled. The Professor he knew was an acerbic, vitriolic man with little regard to the feelings of others and even less tact. This Snape confused the hell out of him. He was being, well, for want of a better word, nice. Harry didn’t really know how to react.

So, all of the alone time, the quiet time, coupled with Snape’s strange behaviour, was fraying his nerves somewhat.

To distract himself, he had pulled out his summer homework. He returned to it now, opening his Transfiguration text and continuing the essay he had started on the train home. Running a finger up and down the arch of his nose in an absent manner, he read through the required pages, taking occasional notes on a separate piece of parchment as he did.

That was how Dumbledore and Snape found him hours later. Halfway through his History of Magic essay, he was still absentmindedly running a finger over his nose as he read, trying to make head or tail of yet another Goblin War.

“Harry?”

He startled at the sound of the voice, before recognising it as Professor Dumbledore’s and calming down, sitting up a little to look at his visitors with a small smile.

Dumbledore took a seat in the only chair available, while Snape stayed in the doorway, his long arms crossed over his chest. Glancing briefly at him, Harry thought he looked even more sour than usual. Dumbledore, however, looked as calm as ever. He wondered what was wrong.

He gave the two professors an enquiring look, as he moved his homework to one side.

“Mr Potter. Harry.” Professor Dumbledore affected a soft tone and a warm smile which Harry was almost immediately wary of. He frowned a little in response and was surprised to note Snape smirking at him from behind the Headmaster.

“I have come with news from the Aurors – A preliminary investigation has resulted in identifying the men who – ah – allegedly attacked your relative’s home. They have been confirmed as Death Eaters, and indeed, wanted men.” The Headmaster paused, and Harry distrusted the twinkle he could see in his eyes. “For now, the investigation is being run by Order members – but it will become apparent soon enough who was at the centre of this... shall we say, debacle.”

Snape snorted and Harry glanced at him curiously, before the Headmaster caught his attention again with a clearing of his throat, “Yes. Well. To forestall any unwanted attention in your direction, I have asked Professor Snape to take you in for the remainder of the summer.”

Harry blinked, surprised. Surely Snape would prefer him turfed out? Catching his professor’s gaze, the man nodded very slightly; again Harry blinked in surprise.

“He has graciously agreed to my request. Now – as you know, Harry – this home is very secure. It is protected by numerous Wards, as well as the Fidelius Charm. You will be perfectly safe within its walls.” Dumbledore smiled at him warmly again and Harry found himself nodding. “There will no doubt be some ground rules for you to follow, and I expect you to do your best to comply with them. Is that understood, Harry?”

Opening his mouth to agree, Harry paused and then nodded. He hadn’t expected anything less.

“Splendid! I will feel much happier, knowing that you are under such commensurate care.” He paused, giving the room a bright smile, “Now. I shall leave you two boys alone, and I do believe Madam Pomfrey wishes to pay young Harry a visit.”

Harry caught Snape’s wince at ‘boys’ and stifled a smirk by covering his mouth. He flinched, just a little as Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder and watched as the elderly wizard left the room, giving Snape a similar pat, receiving a sneer in response.

A moment later, both men were gone and Harry relaxed, pulling his homework back to his lap.

A mere five minutes after the meddling old fool had left, Poppy appeared in his Floo. In the midst of contemplating Potter’s circumstances, Severus grunted and greeted her as politely as he could manage. “Poppy. The boy is upstairs. I’m sure you are in a great hurry to see him.”

The woman simply smiled at him, in the ‘I’m humouring you’ manner that she used on her particularly recalcitrant patients; the manner that always irritated him, as she, more often than not, utilized the same smile on him.

“Thank you, Severus. Albus tells me he was in a rather nasty scrape?” She dropped her large medical bag and clicked her fingers. It stopped a foot from the floor and floated idly beside her as she looked at him.

Frowning in annoyance, Severus nodded. Did Albus tell her nothing? Perhaps he hadn’t thought it safe to explain – which meant either Albus was worried about security at Hogwarts, or he wanted Severus and Harry to explain what had happened. He wouldn’t put the latter idea past the Headmaster and his machinations, though the former worried him somewhat.

Grunting again, he began to lead her through the house, “Mr Potter was attacked by three Death Eaters at his home in Little Whinging. He managed to survive, by the skin of his teeth no less, but sustained some injuries. Most were physical; though at least one, psychological.”

At Poppy’s enquiring noise, he continued, “The boy has been rendered mute.”

“Oh, my!”

He glanced over his shoulder at the Medi-Witch, frowning a little at her unguarded and rather loud response. He didn’t want the boy startled before they even reached his room! Surely the woman ought to know better. Poppy took the hint, a hand already over her mouth and they continued up the stairs in suppressive silence.

Much to the Potion Master’s amusement, Harry was reading his Potion’s assignment when Severus rapped his knuckles on the door-frame; the boy’s fingers were absently stroking the bridge of his nose. When the boy looked up at him, he smirked, quirking a brow, “As thrilling as it is to see you doing your Potion’s work, I’m afraid we must interrupt. Madam Pomfrey has arrived.” The boy gave him an embarrassed smile; he simply rolled his eyes, standing back to let Poppy through.

Severus stayed in the doorway as Poppy bustled into the small room, preferring to keep an eye on proceedings, rather than interfere. He didn’t fail to catch Harry’s look of stifled terror as Poppy asked him to disrobe, the boy’s green eyes widening almost comically. Yet another peculiar reaction that Severus filed away for later contemplation.

By this point, most of the bruising Harry had sported was fading, almost gone. Physically, he was doing well, and Poppy confirmed this with a smile and a flourish of her wand as she ended the diagnostic charms. Putting away her few supplies, she closed her bag, handed Harry a small vial and said, with a happy smile, “Everything’s going well, Harry dear – take a drop of this with a mug of cocoa before bedtime; it should help you sleep.”

Harry nodded, clutching the small vial like a lifeline and smiled at the Medi-Witch. Suppressing another derisive snort, Severus logged that away as well, making mental note to ready a supply of sleep aides.

“Now, as for your other problem; I hear Professor Dumbledore has already asked you to write to your friends?”

Severus watched intently as Harry drew back a little, but nodded, lips pressed firmly together. Obviously, it was not going to be a simple project, getting the boy to talk again.

“That’s good. Keep it up and I shall visit again later in the week, once you have completely healed. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to see if I can help, is that alright, Harry?” The woman was affecting a thoroughly motherly tone that grated on Severus’ nerves. Folding his arms over his chest, he turned a little, so he was looking out across the landing, rather than in at Harry and Poppy.

Apparently Harry had given his consent, as Poppy hummed happily before speaking again, “I’ll sort out dates for my visits. I will try to come round at the very least twice a week, so we can begin to work on your healing.”

Severus had to suppress another snort. As Poppy bustled back out of the room, he turned to look in at Harry. The boy was pulling his homework back to himself, one hand still wrapped tightly around the small vial. With a grunt, Severus knocked a knuckle on the door frame again. When Harry looked up, he said “I will return momentarily, Mr Potter.” Harry nodded, so he turned on his heel and followed the Medi-Witch down to his front room.

“Severus. There is something... more, going on with Harry than I expected.” Poppy had spoken as soon as he closed the door behind him. Severus simply folded his arms and nodded shortly, “Yes. I thought you may have noticed. I know precisely what has happened, Poppy. There is little need to worry.”

Poppy gave him a steady, assessing gaze, lips thinning as she thought. “The change is pronounced already, Severus. I suspect the only reason he has failed to notice, is that he sees himself in the mirror every day. It is so slight as to be unnoticeable in such situations...”

“I am more than aware. The situation is being well taken care of – however,” and here he paused, giving Poppy a stern look, not particularly wanting to disclose this information, “I am going to inform him today. He may wish to – discuss his feelings on the subject, the next time you visit.”

Poppy nodded grimly, “Are you aware of whom his true father..?”

Severus’ lips thinned at the question. She had misjudged, but only slightly. All for the good – if she didn’t grasp the truth of the situation, then it would take others the same way. “Yes. It was I who created a fertility potion for the couple, after all.” He held up a hand, forestalling her next barrage of questions. “It is a private matter, between myself and Lilly Potter-Evans. Now that I am aware of this, I will act accordingly. Until such time as it is providential for this information to be released, I ask that you keep your silence.”

Grimacing slightly, obviously intensely curious as to whom Harry’s ‘true father’ could possibly be, Poppy nevertheless nodded. “Alright, Severus. But if you know who it is, and he’s still alive, you have to let that person and Harry know. That boy is in need of all the family he can get... Does Albus know?”

“I suspect it. But I have not spoken to him about it yet.” He paused, contemplating the bookshelves, “Poppy, I ask that you not mention it to the Headmaster, for now at least.”

After a long pause, in which he grew unsettled as she studied him, Poppy finally nodded again. “Alright. But promise me you will talk to Harry about this, as soon as you can.”

Severus agreed readily enough and Poppy soon left. Severus found himself back in the kitchen, staring at the small, barren garden through the freshly gleaming window panes over the sink. He had to speak to Harry; in fact, he had told the boy he would return shortly. But he found himself unsure of how to address the subject.

Snorting at himself, Severus pushed away from the sink and made his way upstairs.

He found Harry writing furiously, parchment spread over his knees, Potions textbook open and surrounded by copious amounts of notes for the essay. He watched in silence for a moment, standing just outside the doorway. Something he had thought long-dead stirred in his chest and he sneered at himself.

Tapping the doorframe abruptly, he stepped into the room, “Potter. Harry...” Again, he found himself pausing as Harry looked up at him. To put the moment off a little further, he pulled the chair to a more comfortable position by the bed and sat down. He blinked slowly at the curious – and slightly worried – expression on the boys face.

“This is not easy for me to explain, Mr Potter. But I have come to the conclusion that you must be told.” Harry looked even more worried now, so he lifted a hand in a placating gesture, “For once in your life, you are not in trouble, I assure you.” He smirked a little at the flash of defiance in the boy’s eyes.

“I have noticed that you are aware of the difference in your appearance.” He tapped his own nose to illustrate and Harry looked shocked, instantly running his fingertips over the bridge of his own nose. Harry nodded a moment later, hand dropping to his lap as he chewed his bottom lip.

Placing his hands together on his knees, interlocking his fingers, Severus continued calmly, “The difference is becoming apparent because the Charm your mother placed on you is fading. Yes, Lily placed you under a form of concealment charm – it began to fade around the date of your birth. As did the charm she used to modify my memories about the situation.”

He waited for Harry to take this in, the shock and wonder clear in the teenagers face and expressive eyes. As soon as Harry nodded for him to continue, he inclined his head slightly. “It is a complicated matter. However, suffice to say, your mother and father and I were,” here he paused, searching for the right word, “Friends.”

Harry’s silent outburst would have been amusing in any other situation, but as it was, Severus did not feel like being harassed by the boy. “Settle down, Mr Potter!”

Immediately, Harry was sitting with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, glaring at him defiantly. “I understand that this is not easy news to take in. I have had a year to come to terms with this – in my case, Lily’s charm fell apart slowly, allowing me to remember the past bit by bit. It collapsed completely at midnight July 30th.”

Still, Harry glared at him. “It is the truth, however, and you must accept it. I helped your parents create the Potion of Three Souls, which was the turning point in their conceiving you.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation at Harry’s continued glare and growing agitated and angry, Severus continued bluntly, “The potion requires a third person, a third soul, to enable conception. Therefore you have a third parent. Hence your changing appearance, to reflect the third set of genes used to create you. As for whom, exactly, this third is, I am looking into the matter.”

He stood abruptly and left the room hastily. The brat had reacted atrociously to the mere suggestion of his parents being friends with the hated Potion’s Master. Severus thus did not want to go ahead and reveal that he was the third, that his genes were those now beginning to show in Harry’s features. It would become clear enough in time.

Snorting derisively, he went straight to his cellar laboratory, slamming and locking the door behind him.

As much as Harry admired and respected Madam Pomfrey, he had always found her a tad... overly mothering. For a young man who had never known his mother, who had spent many years wishing he had done, it was a strange thought. But there was just something about the way Madam Pomfrey talked to him and acted around him that struck as too much, too babying. He guessed it was more his own problem, than hers, though.

Whatever it was, Harry was distinctly relieved when the Medi-witch finally left. The vial clutched almost desperately in a tight fist, he pulled his homework back to himself. He had just begun to re-read his notes when a knocking resounded on the doorframe. He looked up, briefly catching Snape’s eye.

“I will return momentarily, Mr Potter.”

Harry nodded, a little perplexed. That sounded ominous. Shrugging a little, even though Snape had already turned in a flurry of dark robes, Harry bent back to his work, determined to do well, to get his summer work done for once. By the time Snape returned, he had made good progress and felt this essay, at last and for once, was going to get at the very least an ‘Acceptable’.

He looked up with a distracted smile, his quill pausing in its frantic scratching across parchment, as his Professor tapped on the doorframe again. Strangely, Snape paused, as if he was hesitating over something. The behaviour was so out of the norm for the man Harry knew, that he immediately paid attention, sitting straighter and gathering his notes and parchments into a neat pile, pushing everything to one side. Looked like there was going to be a serious discussion or something, and he didn’t think Snape would appreciate having only half of his attention.

Harry watched in subdued silence as Snape appeared to draw the moment out longer by pulling the chair over and positioning it carefully, twitching it this way and that until he was apparently satisfied. He was beginning to get a little suspicious now, beginning to worry about what it was Snape was here to talk to him about. He fidgeted, fingers curling into the duvet-cover a little.

As Snape finally settled and looked about ready to speak, Harry relaxed and paid attention. “This is not easy for me to explain, Mr Potter. But I have come to the conclusion that you must be told.” What? Had the Ministry already figured things out? Was he being ordered to appear at the Wizengamot again? Or was it worse than that? Had Voldemort enacted some terrible form of abuse on someone he knew?

“For once in your life, you are not in trouble, I assure you.” Harry scowled a little at Snape’s words, and his lifted, almost submissive hand-gesture. He wasn’t in trouble all that often. In fact, Harry knew at least two students in his year alone at Hogwarts who were in trouble more often than he was. Snape’s little smirk made him feel even more aggravated.

“I have noticed that you are aware of the difference in your appearance.” Harry blinked, more than a little shocked. He’d thought he was the only one; he’d been beginning to think he was going mad. As Snape tapped his own nose, Harry’s fingers alighted on the ‘new’ arch he knew was there, running gently over the alien feeling bump briefly.

Chewing his lip in frustration that he couldn’t exclaim over the strangeness, Harry nodded and let his hands fall back to his lap. He watched, a little agitated, as Snape placed his hands on his knees, his long, stained fingers interlocking and leaned forward, a little closer. “The difference is becoming apparent because the Charm your mother placed on you is fading.”

Harry gasped silently, staring at Snape in incredulity. His mother had placed a charm on him?

“Yes, Lily placed you under a form of concealment charm – it began to fade around the date of your birth. As did the charm she used to modify my memories about this.”

Harry leaned back a little, the shock clear on his features as he digested this news. A concealment charm? He couldn’t think of any reason why his mother would do that – at least... not any reason he wished to contemplate. And why the hell would Snape be in on it? Why would his mother need to modify Snape’s memories as well as Harry’s appearance? Suspicion blossoming in his heart, Harry did his best to conceal it and nodded slowly.

Snape inclined his head, his greasy hair falling forward, concealing his eyes for a brief moment. “It is a complicated matter. However, suffice to say, your mother and father and I were,” Harry waited with baited breath as the man paused, “Friends.”

His suspicions confirmed, Harry flew from intense scrutiny to rage in a split second. How could this man suggest what he was suggesting! That Lily had cheated on James with him! That he was his father! He tried to yell at the man that it was a malicious lie, that he was mistaken, that Voldemort, that anyone had played him for a fool! But his non-existent voice failed him again and he simply raged in silence.

“Settle down, Mr Potter!”

Shocked by the loud reaction, Snape’s voice ringing in his ears, Harry flung himself back against the wall and calmed slightly, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees, giving the man a sullen glare. His recent and gradual acceptance of this man as a respectable person had been somewhat eroded once more by this lie. He continued to glare as Snape began to talk once more.

“I understand that this is not easy news to take in.” That was an understatement!

“I have had a year to come to terms with this – in my case, Lily’s charm fell apart slowly, allowing me to remember the past bit by bit. It collapsed completely at midnight July 30th.”

Still, Harry glared at him, not understanding why Snape was belabouring the point. Why didn’t the man just come out and say it? Lay it on the line; tell him outright that he had slept with his mother? That he was Harry’s true father?

“It is the truth, however, and you must accept it. I helped your parents create the Potion of Three Souls, which was the turning point in their conceiving you.”

Harry blinked, his anger dissipating somewhat. What? Now he really didn’t understand. Snape had made a potion for his parents? So he hadn’t..? Still glaring, even now, though mostly out of confusion, mostly at the way Snape refused to clarify himself, Harry watched as the man pinched the bridge of his nose in apparent exasperation. The man looked angry and strangely, upset.

“The potion requires a third person, a third soul, to enable conception. Therefore you have a third parent. Hence your changing appearance, to reflect the third set of genes used to create you. As for whom, exactly, this third is, I am looking into the matter.”

Harry didn’t even have time to let this register, before Snape was suddenly on his feet and leaving his room. Seconds later he heard a door downstairs slam. Harry sat in silence, his ears ringing, not sure what to think. He had a third parent? How was that even possible? Oh, he knew about fertility potions, to help couples conceive. He even knew about the potions same-sex couples could use – the male couples needed a surrogate, of course – but a three way conception?

He shook his head and rubbed his face. This didn’t make any sense! And Snape’s reaction... He rubbed his eyes – he had the feeling the man thought Harry was angry at the prospect of a friendship between him and his parents. But that hadn’t been it at all. He would have to explain himself as soon as he could.

Maybe it had been Sirius? Harry well remembered how close Sirius had been to his father – the idea of being son to them both made his heart swell. But that would also mean he had lost all three parents. And wouldn’t Sirius have told him? Wouldn’t Remus?

No. However much he liked the idea, Harry realised Sirius couldn’t be the third. He had the wrong nose, for a start. Harry lay on his bed, staring at nothing and gently, repeatedly, running his fingertips over the still mostly hidden arch to his nose.

Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him about this? Surely he’d have known, the most powerful Wizard alive today? Or had Lily kept it secret, even from him? Maybe Dumbledore had known, and simply kept it to himself? If so, why would he do that? Harry frowned. That was something else he would have to ask the Headmaster about later.

A small noise by the door had him glancing over and he smiled at the sight of Mozo standing there looking apprehensive, a letter held in her hands. He waved and motioned for her to come in.

“This is being a letter for Master Harry Potter,” she said, holding the letter out for him. He took it gladly and when she didn’t leave, he looked at her again.

“Mozo is worried about Master Severus. He is not himself.” Harry nodded understandingly, watching her fingers as they wound together, an agitated, worried gesture. He supposed Snape’s mood was his fault. He held up a finger and rolled, grabbing a piece of parchment and his quill. Thinking briefly, he began to scribble a short note.

Professor Snape,

I’m sorry I reacted so badly. I thought you were going to tell me my mother had an affair. I couldn’t accept that, not ever. Thank you for telling me about the potion and my parents.

H. Potter

He folded and tore the parchment, then handed the slip to Mozo with a smile and a nod. He pointed at the name the note was addressed to. Hopefully she would know to take it to Snape for him. The little house elf grinned at him, “Mozo is thanking you, Master Harry! Mozo will be taking this to Master Severus right away!”

Harry grinned and nodded again, happy that Mozo was happy. Hopefully, the note would help to calm Snape down somewhat. If not, then at least he tried, right?

When the house elf was gone, he rolled onto his back and looked at the letter. The curly, pretty, multi-coloured handwriting told him immediately that this was a reply from Luna and he sat up, breaking the seal and opening the parchment eagerly. A small parcel fell into his lap, but he left it for now.

Dear Harry,

I was surprised to hear from you so soon. That was very nice.

I’m very glad you liked my present. I made it with you in mind, every piece of cloth and every stitch was added while I sang a protection charm into it. I made it from scraps and cut-offs from previous projects, and even a piece of one of my cloaks. It will keep you safe, as well as warm. I have always been into hand crafts, ever since my mother first introduced me when I was very young. Making things for my friends and family is a lovely way to remember her, I feel.

Harry, you have to accept that you were only fifteen, a teenager and acting out of love and fear. We all of us never think rationally in such circumstances, I fear even an adult may have made some mistakes in a similar situation. Maybe we were in danger, but we chose to be there, we chose to join you. We all believe in you and what you can do, what you represent. We are your friends; we would go through anything with or for you. Never forget that, Harry. Remember, too, that you can come to any of us with your problems, your plans. We will help you, if you let us. Even if it is to talk you out of doing something so rash.

Harry, I will never mind it when you need to talk to me. That is why I offered, after all. I am very happy that you have decided to trust me; that you are able to open up to me. I promise to tell no-one, I promise I will always keep your secrets.

You were right, Harry. The Daily Prophet has run a story. It is not flattering. I will simply say that the author’s are waxing lyrical about your disappearance. The death of your aunt has been reported and speculated upon.

I am so glad that you are not harmed, Harry. To fight three DE’s alone? You must have been terrified – I am not surprised that you have lost your voice. It is not in the least bit ridiculous that you have bad moments, Harry; it is natural after such a shock. You have nothing to apologise for – and if you want to talk about what happened, about how you are feeling, remember that I am here and will not judge.

I do not think you are whining. I understand that your life has been hard, that you are pulled to and fro repeatedly, if not by the press, then by The Dark Lord and even Professor Dumbledore. You are only sixteen, not yet even an adult in the eyes of the Wizarding World, and you have been through so much already; too much, really. If I could, I would offer you the means to live quietly, if only for a short time.

Until I find a way to help you find some peace, I will do what I can to keep you amused for the summer. Remember you can write to me about anything, Harry. I will always respond as soon as I can and I will never judge. I understand your need to talk, let me be your sounding-board.

So far, this summer, my father and I have travelled all over the Lake District. We are hunting the Saurdroma and though we haven’t found one, we have found signs and tracks. It is all very exciting! We plan to continue our search a little further south. I’m keeping photographic records of where we go and what we do and really, I am simply enjoying spending time with my father. I do not get to see him often enough during the school year.

When I have developed the latest photos, I will send you some copies. I think I will send a postcard and maybe some local trinkets, too.

I made the present last night, while I contemplated this letter and watched my father cook dinner. I sang some protection into it while I worked – wear it always and it will keep you from harm. I hope you like it – I used local shells and local leather to make it.

I will write again soon and tell you more about what I am up to. Please, try to keep your spirits up, and talk to me if you need to.

Until my next letter,

Luna.

Harry smiled. He was surprised at the length of Luna’s letter, but he supposed he shouldn’t be. The girl had always had a surprisingly deep and thoughtful personality, behind the dreamy countenance. It was more than nice to read her thoughts on everything he had told her. Reassuring. Especially that someone other than Ron and Hermione understood him, what his life could be like.

Luna’s insistence that she wanted to provide him with the peace he so desperately craved struck a chord in him. He found he wanted to take her up on that offer, even more so than her offer of being a shoulder to lean on.

Picking up the small package now, he un-wrapped it and tipped a hand-made bracelet into his palm. It was tightly braided and knotted leather cord, with small shells dotted strategically throughout.

He liked it immediately. With very little trouble, he had it securely around his right wrist and decided it suited him perfectly, it just looked right. He didn’t think he would have any problems wearing it.

Blinking, he stared at the bracelet in wonder. A tight net of magic had appeared, winding around, through and inside the leather and shells, each knot glimmering brightly. He lifted his wrist in wonder, staring at the glowing net. Luna really had cast a protection charm on the object; he could see it, clear as day.

Then, suddenly, the net vanished again. He blinked, rubbing his eyes. Something weird was going on, besides the concealment charm. Something he had a feeling he would need to talk to someone about.