Dinner went even better than Harry had hoped. The Gryffindor Quidditch team gathered and discussed strategy. Hermione did not appear. No one seemed at all offended that Harry admired Draco Malfoy's stunning catch, though Ron did tell him he ought to keep up with Quidditch news more -- the rest of them had all seen the move from news photographs.

Better yet, towards the end of dinner, Fudge got an owl and left. Harry hoped he had actually gone back to the Ministry, rather than just to a borrowed office in the school.

He had just finished his pudding when McGonagall showed up across the table.

"Mr. Potter."

She did not look pleased. Suddenly, her reactions to Harry during the game seemed much less amusing. "Professor?" he managed. Something on his cheek tickled. He tensed as he resisted the urge to rub it.

"The headmaster requires your presence in his office," McGonagall said sharply. "His reasons are unspecified. Come along." Harry stumbled up and hurried after his head of house. She had not waited, and he lagged behind her across the room. Near the end of the Gryffindor table, he passed Hermione. She glared at him. Harry tried to look apologetic, but dared not pause. He caught up with McGonagall just outside the door from the Great Hall.

"Professor?"

She nodded a curt acknowledgement, but did not reply.

"I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"I am not always privy to the headmaster's motivations, Potter."

"Oh."

They went up a flight of stairs in tense silence. On the second landing, McGonagall finally spoke. "Today's game...." She pursed her lips. "How long have you been 'friends' with Malfoy, Potter?"

"About four weeks." Harry tried to sound agreeable. "He's improved a lot, really, with his father gone."

"In prison!"

"Well, yes. That helps, I think." Harry dared an unprompted addition. "We were playing it up a bit. Because Fudge wants to move me, and Malfoy's the sort he would like me to be friends with, and Malfoy, with me, seems less dangerous -- more moderate."

McGonagall paused to fix him with a look of decided distaste. "How ... Slytherin."

Harry shrugged. "Would you rather have me taken away?"

McGonagall studied him for a moment before turning and resuming their climb. "I might, Mr. Potter."

Harry followed in shocked silence. His head of house did not resume the conversation. At the headmaster's office, she knocked on the inner door, though Dumbledore had still been at the staff table when they left the Great Hall. She jumped when Bill Weasley opened it.

"Oh, there you are Harry!"

Beyond Bill, Harry caught a glimpse of Remus Lupin. Remus looked away, turned his back to them, and walked through the connecting door to the conference room. Harry wrenched his attention back to Bill.

"You don't need to stay, Professor," he was saying to McGonagall. "Was my mum and I wanted to see him. Professor Dumbledore said he'd be back in a bit."

McGonagall's expression softened slightly, and she nodded. "Well, then." She looked awkwardly at Harry. "You behave yourself, now, Mr. Potter."

"Lesson of the day," Harry said ruefully. He smiled at her. "Of course, professor."

As soon as she had departed, Bill led Harry to the conference room. Harry paused cautiously before entering. The series of doorways was making him feel more and more removed from his schoolmates. Bright candlelight glinted off multiple heads of red hair -- again, all the Weasleys in the Order were present. Remus had retreated to the far corner. He stood beside a dark window, his tight stance defying anyone to approach. Mrs. Weasley was speaking to Severus, who turned. A familiar, contemptuous look swept Harry up and down. Harry froze. Had he done something else wrong?

"Come here."

Slowly, Harry approached, stopping a few steps short of his father. Severus closed the distance. Deliberately, he lifted a hand, and Harry felt the hard, blunt edge of a fingernail trace a deep line down the side of his face.

"Aa!"

Harry cried out in surprise as the mask split and shrunk back. It contracted, uncovering a strip of his face, but on the rest, it felt even more like bubblegum than it had while being applied. Harry grabbed at the edge of the larger piece and peeled it clear. "Yeuch!" His uncovered skin felt strange -- as if were still tacky from the mask.

"Here, let me help," Bill said kindly. He stepped forward and took the mask -- now a torn piece of crumpled photograph -- from Harry's hand. He rubbed a few stray pieces of mask off the edges of Harry's face, then followed it up with a cleaning spell. Harry still felt sticky.

"Maybe it's terribly Muggle of me, but I'd feel better if I could wash."

Severus snorted. "Not Muggle at all. The spell makes you clean, but just as a nutritive potion is not the same as having eaten, being clean is not the same as having washed."

"Can't see that you'd know," one of the twins muttered, not quite quietly enough. There was a shocked silence.

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley chided. Her voice squeaked.

Harry laughed out loud. It was partially at Fred's comment, but even more at the looks of horror and alarm on the others' faces -- only Remus, behind Severus, had dared smile. He choked it back and checked Severus's reaction. From the way his father's near cheek was twitching, Harry suspected he was just as amused.

"For your information," Harry said loftily to Fred, "I have actually seen him cleaned up. And for someone who hates to wash his hair, he takes over the bath for entirely unreasonable periods of time."

Severus glared. "I think well in the bath."

Harry shot Fred a conspiratorial look. "And what that means," he said, "is that he gets inspired, throws his dirty robes back on, and rushes out, still dripping, to the lab, to come back hours later, in a worse state than when he got in the tub."

"But I know I washed," Severus said placidly, and this time Bill was bold enough to join Harry in laughing.

"You are impossible, you know." Harry kept his tone light as he gave his father a sidelong glance. "If I took such horrible care of myself, you'd glare daggers, then give me detention for breathing."

"Perhaps I should give you detention for not washing your hair." Severus smirked. "Then I can take points from everyone who can't keep a straight face -- all the Gryffindors, anyway."

He pushed his hair back automatically as he spoke. It really was exceptionally awful, today, hanging in thick clumps. The greasiness had trapped enough grime to go dull. Harry suspected Severus had been determined not to clean himself up for the Weasleys. He raised his eyebrows.

Severus, to Harry's surprise, looked down. "It would be inadvisable to change any aspect of my behavior at this time," he said quietly.

Harry nodded. "All right. But you are a bit over the top, today."

"I've been busy."

Harry ignored the brief snarl that ended the protest. "Of course." He glanced over at Remus and they shared a smile for a moment before Remus remembered that he was angry and turned away.

Harry scanned the room. Mrs. Weasley and Bill looked pleased. Mr. Weasley was studying Severus as if he were a previously unknown type of plug. The twins were looking at each other, in what Harry suspected was a private conversation of sorts, and Charlie was staring at the palms of his hands, first one, than the other, as if they had suddenly become the most fascinating objects in the room.

Harry was saved from further conversation by the headmaster's arrival. Dumbledore entered without greetings and walked straight to the head of the table. The candles and grate flared up as he arrived, brightening the room.

"Everyone stand back, please. By the wall." All those present quickly complied, and a wave from Dumbledore changed the long table to a smaller, concave round one, and the roomy chairs to stools that fit more closely around the edge.

"Better for viewing." Dumbledore selected a stool and perched himself up on it. "Now, everyone should take a seat -- that includes you, Remus."

Harry found himself between Severus and Charlie. While those assembled settled onto stools, Dumbledore levitated his pensieve to the depressed center of the table. At least, Harry thought it was the bowl of his pensieve, but rather than being filled with a shining silver mass, it was now filled with a liquid that seemed, somehow, more brilliantly clear than water, as if it were solidified light, or melted diamonds. The bowl filled the room with the scent of melting snow.

"As you all know, Harry's custody confirmation hearing is on the first of November. We plan to produce Severus at that time. Severus has graciously permitted me to show all of you the Herem contract to help us prepare for that hearing." Dumbledore scanned once around the room. "I am certain I need not remind you that everything you see here is confidential."

"Of course," Charlie said readily.

"Agreed," Bill volunteered, while his mother nodded pleasantly.

Mr. Weasley looked curiously at Severus. "As always, Dumbledore. Let's get on with it."

Dumbledore nodded. He pulled out a pouch, and from that, he took a gold griffin. He held it up, and Harry could see it was a brooch. Holding the griffin carefully by one leg, Dumbledore lowered it gently into the bowl. When it was half submerged, he let it go. Although the liquid did not seem at all viscous, the griffin sank slowly, and the clear substance swirled, first with gold, then gold shot with sparkles of red and green, then, through that, dark streaks of brown and black, as if it were a scene spinning behind dirty glass or heavy rain. It made Harry feel as if he were on a fast carnival ride, trying to look out at the world. Harry leaned forward, noticing as he did so that everyone else was doing the same.

"Join hands," Dumbledore ordered, and Harry found his hands grasped, one by his father, and one by Charlie. The shapes of the two hands were quite different, but both were calloused and scarred. Both made him feel safe. He held on tightly as the colors in the bowl began to take shape.

They were in a cozy parlor with a small fire in the grate. The world outside the windows was dark. A young Severus, his hair longer and cleaner and his face oddly unlined, was facing James Potter, who looked just like the pictures in Harry's photo album, and would never get to grow older. A warm breeze wafted the scent of flowers in the open window. Harry had the vague impression that the other observers from Dumbledore's office were there as well, ringed about the pair, but they seemed too unimportant to bring into focus. His two fathers commanded all his attention.

"All right," James said. "Your line first, I think."

Severus nodded. He looked very young, and almost frightened. "The time has come for me to go to battle," he said. A hardness descended on his face, destroying the image of youth. "I am my father's only son, and death may take me childless." He took a deep breath. "I come to ask if I may have your wife, Lily, for Herem, that she might bear me an heir should I die childless in war."

"Do you have no wife of your own?"

"I have no wife of my own."

"To the best of your knowledge, is my Lily suitable to bear you an heir?"

Severus's breath caught. "Lily is suitable to bear me an heir."

James closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his formerly solemn face had acquired a touch of amusement. "Do you understand that Lily has yet borne no children, and once miscarried?"

"Yes, I understand that."

"Do you understand that Lily is of Muggle parentage?"

Severus face tightened as if he had bitten a lime. "I am aware of that, yes," he hissed.

"Look, I don't like it any more than you do!" James exploded. "Less, I expect. But it is one of the things I am required to disclose for this contract to be binding. I looked them up -- certain inheritable diseases, madness, fertility or birth problems, and Muggle, Crimean, or Spanish ancestry."

"Fine, fine -- I acknowledge she has Muggle ancestry. Get on with it, Potter."

James looked coolly at him. "As a supplicant, Severus, I would advise you to be more courteous."

Angry spots of red burned under Severus's dark eyes. "I understand," he said tonelessly.

"You understand, what?" James persisted.

"Whatever you like."

James stared imperiously, and Severus gave way. "James," he whispered.

"That's better." James was immediately restored to good humor by the use of his name. If he noticed that Severus was now shaking, he did not seem to mind. "Anyway, she's fine on all the others." He cleared his throat. "So, in return for my wife to bear you an heir, what will you give me?"

"Give you?" Severus looked startled.

"It is traditional that you offer me something in payment."

"James! You know perfectly well I have nothing you want! We discussed --"

"Hunh." James looked amused. "I had thought of asking for your forgiveness, but I'm not convinced you're capable of it. It would be a pity to have you default accidentally."

Severus clenched his jaw. He forced out, "So, what do you suggest?"

"How about this: If, by some chance, you live and I do not, you are bound to protect any child of mine to the best of your abilities."

"Agreed."

"Say it."

"If you die with issue, I swear I will protect any and all of your children to the best of my abilities."

"Even against your friends."

"Against anyone, regardless of my allegiances at that time. Is that good enough for you?"

"Yes. I accept." The satisfied smile that had been playing at James's full lips became suddenly much more sincere, and his voice grew warmer. "And I swear, should Lily bear you an heir from this rite, I will raise it well and kindly, and hold it, in all things, equal to the children of my body."

Severus nodded. He seemed to shrink slightly as he relaxed. "And it is my will that any child of this rite be raised as my heir, not by my family, but by Lily Evans Potter, with you, James Potter, her chosen husband. None of my kin shall have any right to the child."

With a further softening of his face, James reached out a hand. "As we agreed." They shook hands formally. "Lily?" he called.

There was a moment of uneasy silence, then Lily walked in. James frowned at her. "Aren't you supposed to be veiled?"

She shot him an irritated look. "I am also supposed to have fidelity spells on me, which you lift for the night. Honestly, I think it's all ridiculous." She smiled at Severus, and Harry suddenly realized that she was trembling. "Hello, Severus."

"Oh, honestly!" James protested in exasperation. "The both of you, over here!" James pulled the two towards each other and shoved their hands together. Their fingers tangled awkwardly, and James pointed his wand. A strand of red shot from it, briefly bound their wrists together, then sunk into their skin, leaving them unbound, but each marked, as if with a tight rope, recently removed. James pulled a small knife from his pocket, and drew it awkwardly from its sheath. The crosspiece caught on the binding, and a knowing smile flickered across Severus's face at the sign of unfamiliarity.

"Here," James said, extending the knife hilt to Severus. He seemed to return to formula. "I give you my knife for the taking of blood, and my wife for the holding of seed. Treat both well and return them unharmed."

Severus said evenly, "Even better than if they were my own, I will treat them." He took the knife. That apparently completed the contract, for James was instantly cheery and mischievous.

"All right then. I'm off to join Sirius for a pint or seven at the Snidget's Nest -- and no, I won't tell him what's up here." He went to the door, then paused. "Oh -- Sev?"

Severus did not take his eyes from Lily. Both were blushing deeply. "Yes?"

"She has my permission to enjoy it. Don't think you need to be grim." With a final wink and flash of teeth, he left the room.

Shaking, Lily turned away from Severus.

"Lily?" he asked, suddenly frightened and young, again. Harry had never seen him look so plainly for reassurance. "You do --"

"Please pull that thing out before this goes any further. He'd be quite amused if we forgot, and --"

Severus lunged towards a small table, then froze beside it. Delicately, he lifted a gold hook from the tabletop and lowered it into the liquid in a pensieve-like bowl.

A sudden image of the griffin brooch filled Harry's vision, then he seemed to be in its place, rising twisting up through displaced liquid. With a wrench, summer night, gold griffon, and all tore away, discarding him in the headmaster's conference room. His left hand was gripped painfully tight. Harry fought through his disorientation and focused on his father's lined face, as blood-darkened here as it had been before James.

He turned away. "What an arse!" he exclaimed.

"Harry," Dumbledore warned. Mrs. Weasley looked shocked, and Remus withdrawn. Everyone else appeared too embarrassed to display any other emotion. There was a general releasing of hands. Harry, caught in a disorienting rush of indignation and embarrassment and relief, tried to soften his outburst.

"No, look, I know he loved me, and I know he was a great man in many ways, and I've met his spirit a few times, all of them wonderful, and I suppose I love him ... but really!" It would be a pity to have you default accidentally. Anger toppled his intent. "I've seen Slytherins be more gracious over holding power."

"Really," Severus remarked dryly.

Harry heated. He hadn't meant to be offensive, just.... "I suppose it's somewhat of a double-standard, but --" Desperate to find an alternative to explaining that he did not expect Slytherins to behave civilly, he leaned forward and reached for the golden griffin. "Anyway, I suppose we're --"

He had just registered the varied shouts, all variations on "no!" when his fingertips broke the surface of the pensieve's clear liquid. It pulled at him like bog mud. A hand seized his shoulder, and at least one more his wrist, but the pensieve's pull was stronger. He was sucked deep and far into a pool of brilliant green -- not the lurid, decay green of the killing curse, but the clear, life green of a forest roof before the sun. It even smelled like summer --like warm, contented leaves. He could not remember how he had come to be here. He saw a strip of gold and propelled himself forward to seize it.

A pretty, red-haired woman smiled sweetly at him. She was standing in a kitchen with white walls and yellow curtains. Sunlight streamed in the window behind her.

"Mum?"

"Severus. I hope you will think to look here."

"No, Mum, it's me!" Harry moved forward, then realized Lily could not see him. Her attention remained fixed on the same point ahead of her. No one was there. Harry tried to think. Was he a ghost? No, he remembered, she was. He had had an accident with a pensieve.

"It was the only logical place, of course." She glanced to the side, and James, whom Harry had somehow missed before, stepped forward to join her. He put an arm around her in a gesture that was both loving and possessive, then he, too, glanced to the side. Harry heard faint baby giggles and followed their gaze to cluttered section of the adjoining room, where a dark-haired baby was sitting on the floor and chewing happily on the ear of a stuffed dog. He felt dizzy.

Lily's voice recalled his attention to the couple.

"I, Lily Potter, née Evans...."

"and I, James Potter,"

"declare this, our will."

James took over. "Barring the birth of other children, Harry James Potter, the son of my wife's body and of my will, shall be my sole heir. Should Lily have other children by me in the future, or if, by her will, I father children on another woman, he shall be treated as equal to the children of my body in the division of my worldly goods." He looked nervously towards his wife. "Lily?"

"At this time, the First of May, 1981, Harry James Potter, is the only child of my body, and I expect no others. I declare him my sole heir. Should I, in the future, bear other children, he shall be treated as equal to all other the children of my body in the division of my worldly goods."

James took over again. "I know that Harry James Potter was conceived by Severus Snape upon my wife, Lily. This happened with my knowledge, consent, and cooperation, and I acknowledge Harry, regardless, as my son and of my line, in all ways possible without the blessing of blood. I swear this before the sun and stars, before hearth and threshold, before knife and plow, before water and blood." He drew his wand, and there was a wail as a startled baby flew through the air into James's arms. Lily, with an exasperated sigh, drew her wand and summoned the stuffed dog.

"There you go, love," she soothed.

The wailing stopped. The baby took the dog and promptly returned to chewing on its ear. He left off briefly to gurgle happily when James tossed him aloft. The smile on James's face could have lit the whole room.

"And here's the little bugger! For all that helps -- looks just like a baby, and a baby under a Paternity Charm, besides." He grinned at his wife.

"Yes," she said dryly. "That one. Our sole heir. Don't drop him."

James nuzzled the baby's tummy. "You're awfully little to be a sole heir. Think you're up to it?" The baby gurgled and grabbed at his glasses.

"Ouch. Well, yes." With difficulty, James extricated his glasses from the baby's grasp. "A tactical genius already. Lily, are we finished?"

"You haven't done the part for Severus."

"Oh, right." James faced forward, then glanced back at Lily. "It won't happen, you know. He'll die before we do."

"Do it anyway -- just in case."

James nodded sadly. "All right. This --" he lifted the baby -- "is the child of Severus Snape. By Herem contract, ritual, and tradition, he should be Snape's son." He hesitated. "I confess that we concealed him, in fear for his life. In no measure shall any acceptance of this child by Severus Snape or any of his kin alter the boy's position as my heir." He looked at Lily. "That should do it."

"Thank you."

"I hate to even think about it," James confessed. "I feel so horrid. I have everything he wants, but I took this, too." James held the baby close until it squirmed for freedom. He kissed it softly, and his face grew hard. "And I will not give him up."

"James?"

"We've discussed it!"

"We're still recording this."

"Oh." James looked embarrassed. He pointed his wand and Harry lurched backward. The green was back, deeper now, and it rolled him in tumbling chaos like a fearsome wave. People were shouting. His head felt split by pain. A thought that this pain meant something flickered past and was swept away before he could seize it. His body was spots of agony -- head, wrists, a section of ribs -- that did not seem to be connected. Everything exploded into white, and stopped.