The Triwizard Cup glowed in the moonlight, its multitude of rubies, emeralds and sapphires capturing the reflections of two tired, grubby countenances. One face was so pale and pinched that it seemed to be comprised of little more than luminous jade-green eyes, glasses and wayward, espresso-toned hair. The other face was tanned, with chiselled features, raven hair and dark-blue eyes. The reflections shimmered as both boys raised their heads and gazed into each others eyes.

“Take it!” The green-eyed child whispered fiercely, gesturing towards his wounded leg. There was no way he could outrun Cedric in this state: the handsome older boy would beat him to the cup just as he’d beaten him to asking Cho to the Yule Ball.

The Hufflepuff’s expression of surprise hardened “No Harry. I’d have been a goner if you hadn’t warned me about that.” Cedric pointed to the large body of the spider they’d defeated moments before.

Harry shook his head.

“C’mon, you should have had more points for the second task” Cedric persuaded.

“I wouldn’t have even got one point if you hadn’t given me the tip about the egg.”

“It was only fair; after all, you told me about the dragons.”

“I had help with that.”

“So, someone helped me work out the egg.”

“I shouldn’t even be here” grumped Harry “You’re the REAL Hogwarts champion. Someone cheated to get me in- though heavens knows who or why.”

“Take the cup, Gryffindor.”

“Not on your life, Hufflepuff.”

“God, Harry, this isn’t a ‘who can be the most noble’ competition!”

Harry looked at Cedric and sighed. Although Hufflepuff House could do with a bit of glory, no true Hufflepuff would take the cup under these circumstances and, despite his disappointments, Harry had to admit that Cedric exemplified the best qualities of his House.

“How about a compromise?”

“Hmm?”

“We both take it.”

“Really?” Cedric’s blue eyes lit up.

“Yeah. It’d be fair and, anyway, it’d still be a win for Hogwarts.”

Cedric quickly walked over to Harry and grasped the smaller boy’s elbow, allowing him to walk without further aggravating his injury. Harry, refusing to be churlish, accepted Cedric’s help and, together, they shuffled towards the podium.

“Bling, Bling” Smirked Cedric, eyeing the rainbow multitude of stones “Bet Dumbledore designed it.”

“Nah, if he did, it’d be chocolate and studded with sherbet lemons.” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“True. So, we touch it on three?”

“Sure.”

“One” Cedric whispered.
“Two” Harry murmured.
“Three” both boys said, simultaneously clutching a handle each.

Harry felt a jerk in the region of his navel and, for a moment, everything went black.

OoOoO

Harry collapsed on his backside, the cup falling with an audible prang in the silent churchyard. Harry glimpsed at Cedric, whose navy eyes were just as round in surprise as Harry’s.

“Anyone told you the cup was a portkey?” Ced whispered, as they glanced around the dark landscape of graves and yew trees.

“No.” Harry whispered back, the cold fingers of fear twisted his gut. Something was very wrong.

“You figure Dumbledore would have permitted the Tournament to use a graveyard, a muggle graveyard, as a playground?”

Harry drew his wand, his eyes searching the shadows. “No”.

There was a flash of green light and a thud. Harry whirled round to find Cedric limp on the ground, his open eyes wide with shock. “Cedric!” A sudden pain blossomed in Harry’s back and he knew no more.

OoOoO

“Hurry Wormtail, the boy stirs!”

Under the depths of unconsciousness, Harry few alert brain cells told him they recognised that voice. And that name. His dozing brain struggled for a moment: with whom did they belong? Voldemort? Yeah, that’s right! The voice belonged to Volde… OH SHITTING HELL!

Harry’s eyes flew open. A few feet in front of him stood an obese, sandy haired wizard, who was fussing beside a gigantic stone cauldron. Harry attempted to jump to his feet but his body was useless: he couldn’t so much as move a finger.

“Too late…” a voice sighed from the depths of the cauldron. “Bring me my robe, Peter. I don’t want Albus to add ‘paedophile’ to my list of epithets.”

Peter scurried over to a large, open suitcase rested against the side of a substantial alabaster tomb, grabbing a long bundle of deep-purple cloth.

There was a disgruntled hiss *“Ssstupid ratman. Nagini was sssleeping. Buckle hurted my head”.* A green snake poked her sleek head out of the bag. Harry’s eyebrows rose. This pretty little snake was nothing like the black mamba he’d seen in his visions of Voldemort. As Peter Pettigrew scurried back to the cauldron, the snake cried out in a plaintive voice.

*“Tom! Tom! Ssstupid ratman hurted my head!*

*“Hush Nagini, Rat-wizard didn’t intend it. Rat-wizard is clumsy and forgetful. Soon not hurt.”*

Harry’s eyebrows were almost meeting his hairline. Tom? And this wizard, if he were indeed Voldemort, sounded, well, like Mr Weasley actually; that time when Ginny was complaining about Ron sitting on her broom and breaking it. His attitude was paternal, measured and fair… all the traits that Harry would least associate with Voldemort!

An elegant pale hand reached out of the cauldron and snatched the robes. “Thank you Peter.”

There was a brief rustling of silk on silk and a man rose up from the depths of the cauldron, tying a wide, silver sash around his narrow waist. Harry’s round eyes took in the wizard before him: a tall and slender man with long, wavy raven hair and handsome, regular features. Only the wizard’s long-cut eyes and attire appeared unusual by wizard or muggle standards: his irises were a shimmering crimson and he was garbed in a deep purple, knee-length jacket-ty thing with flowing sleeves and strange baggy trousers. Much to Harry’s befuddlement, the man began to attach an opalescent sword to his belt.

“You’re not Voldemort” Harry stammered, confused beyond belief.

“Oh I am, Harry.” The wizard replied in a sad, sibilant voice. “I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, widely known, if not spoken of, as ‘Voldemort’, son of Merope Gaunt-Riddle and Tom Riddle of Little Hangleton.” He pointed to a tombstone. “He was a worthless father but he gave me life; twice, now, actually.”

“And you killed him!” Spat Harry, anger overcoming his shock. “Just like you killed my parents! Just like you killed Cedric!”

“I plead guilty only to the first count Harry. But, look my true family approaches.”

In the silence of the graveyard, the pops heralding apparating wizards sounded like gunfire.

*“Tom! Tom! Arms again! And warm! Nice for holding Nagini.”*

Tom petted her head *“Glad to hear you approve, my Queen, I exist only to serve you” * he replied wryly. Vermilion eyes scanned the dark figures who were forming a circle around him. After a while, the wizard seemed to accept that no more people were going to arrive. He straightened up, and addressed the crowd.

“My friends, it gladdens me to see you again, after so long.” Tom paused looking around the circle, there were as many gaps as there were people, he sighed “Though not as many are here as I might wish.”

A tall figure, who was standing beside a particularly wide gap, stepped forward “Tom, we believed you dead. By what miracle were you bought back to us?” Lucius Malfoy, Harry realised with a gasp.

“On the night of the murder, I was ripped from my body but, unlike your parents, my soul didn’t ascend. One of my earliest experiments” Tom grimaced “appeared to have worked. I was less than the meanest ghost but I was alive.” The ruby eyed wizard paused.

“I fled to the east, hoping against hope that one of those still loyal to me would realise that I might not be dead. But, as I told none of you about my horcruxes, it was no surprise that I waited in vain.”

A surprised murmur ran around the crowd, horcruxes?

Tom sighed “I killed my father in anger and, when my grandparents arrived on the scene, I killed again in panic. I ripped my soul thrice and, young fool that I was, I made two horcruxes out of the torn portions. I am not proud of what I did but I did not know how to un-do it.”

“Nevertheless, my boyhood hubris has granted a second chance of life and, I hope, the chance to undo some of the harm which has occurred to those who least deserved it.

Tom turned to Harry. “As you can see, we have been joined today by a special guest; one whom the wizarding world call their savour. A mere child whom Dumbledore, foul old queen that he is, has made King of his infernal chessboard.”

Tom strode over to where Harry sat bound. Harry stiffened, waiting for pain to assail him as it always did when Voldemort was near, but there was not a twinge, not the faintest ache.

When Tom was but meters from Harry, there was another crack of apparition and Professor Snape, his robes in disarray, his hair wild as his dark eyes, appeared between Harry and Tom.

“Avada Kedavra” Snape shrieked, aiming his wand at Tom’s chest.

“Expelliarmus!”

The jet of green light did not hit Tom, it was pulled, magnetically, onto the sword, which shot the killing curse into the ground. Tom's spell hit Severus, sending him stumbling back, and forcing his wand from his grasp. Severus threw himself bodily at Tom. Nagini drew back, hissing in alarm, but she did not strike.

*"Why you fight? Pleassse ssstop! No biting of blood! Bad! Bad! Sssstop!"* cried the little snake.

“You killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Harry stared as Severus Snape, uptight, restrained, reserved potions master, flailed with his fists against the other man, who had easily captured the professor’s arms and was holding him against his chest, almost cradling him.

“Severus! Severus, listen to me! I did not touch her. I never laid hand nor wand against Lily in my life!”

“Liar!”

*"Sssstop! No sssshout-y! Hurtsss earsss and heart!"*

“It’s true, Sev.” Another Death Eater had approached the struggling duo. Lucius pulled back his hood and gazed at Severus with unfamiliar compassion glittering in his silver eyes. “Lily and James died in a car crash- Tom was nowhere near her.”

“How! How could a car accident kill the most gifted witch that has ever graced Hogwarts.”

“Lets ask her ourselves, Severus” Tom released Severus’s arms and stepped back sharply. He drew the pearlescent sword “Do you know what this is?”

“A sword” snarled Professor Snape.

*"Sssilly."* hissed Nagini, rolling her violet eyes.

Tom flicked his wrist, sending the sword into a glimmering arc and catching Lucius Malfoy in the chest. Harry gasped in horror: as evil as Malfoy was, Harry didn’t want to see him slaughtered.

However, Lucius remained standing, looking down dispassionately at the sword lodged in his chest. Tom withdrew it and Harry saw that the blade was white and unsullied as a unicorn’s coat.

“Tenseiga, Severus. The life giving fang.”

“The resurrection sword?” whispered Professor Snape, his face draining of colour.

“Only one whose heart is selfless and who feels compassion for the dead can use this blade. It will not bring back the dead if the bearer has selfish motives.”

Bring back the dead! “But, magic cannot raise the dead!” Harry exclaimed “Nothing can.”

Tom smiled “While wizards are incapable of raising the dead, there are other beings much more powerful than us in this world.”

Peter Pettigrew approached Tom with a small urn, decorated with calla lilies. He un-stoppered it and laid the ashes on the ground. The pale sword started to pulse and Tom’s face broke into a smile of pure, beautiful relief.

The sword cut through the ashes and there was a blinding, white light. When the aura had faded- and Harry had blinked the stars out of his eyes- Tom was holding the naked body of a young woman with long, russet-red hair. Many of the grey robed figures immediately looked away.

Tom dropped the sword and- grabbing his wand- quickly transfigured a leaf into a robe, which he charmed onto the woman’s body.

The woman opened her forest-green eyes and looked around her.

Lily Potter lived.

OoOoO

“You!” Lily screamed, her eyes fixing on Harry’s face.

“Of all the stupid, arrogant arseholes to walk the earth, you, James Algernon Potter, are the very worst. How fucking dare you lie to me! How dare you drink before driving us home. We could have been killed. Our son could have been killed. Was it worth it! Was it?”

Harry’s jaw hung open; he was literally shocked speechless. It seemed to be a common feeling, Tom and the grey-robed figures were looking at Lily in silent amazement.

“Lily!”

The angry woman turned to Severus. “What!” She suddenly took in the circle of grey robed people, the fact that ‘James’ was bound. “Oh, bloody hell”

Tom dropped his wand “Ms. Potter, do you not recognise me?”

Lily squinted, then walked up to the tall man. “You’re… You’re Sev’s uncle Tom?”

“Otherwise known as ‘Voldemort’. Do you remember the time I took you both to the county fayre? All those weekends we went to sit on the beach and ate chips, how I always had to bring a bottle of tomato sauce. The time I bought you a hamster after your goldfish died?”

“Yeah.” Lily shook her head, as if disorientated.

“Would a blood-supremacist dark lord spend forty-five minutes removing bubble-gum from a muggleborn girl’s hair?”

Lily’s breathing slowly evened out. “So, why are we here like this? Why is James tied up?”

“Where, more to the point, are your bloody glasses when you need them, girl?” Tom took Lily’s arm and steered her towards Harry. “Look, green eyes! Freckles!”

Harry gazed into the eyes of his mother: similar to his but darker, fringed with fiery eyelashes.

“Who?”

“This is your son, this is Harry.”

“Harry?! Oh, come on Uncle Tom! This boy is, what, fourteen, fifteen?”

“You have been asleep a very long time, Lily.”

“I’ve been in a coma? James put me in a coma for fourteen bloody years? Where is the bastard?! I’ll kill him.”

Tom paused but Harry, finally finding his voice, cut in, “He’s dead, Mum.”

The colour drained from Lily’s face “Dead?”

“Yeah.”

Lily turned to Tom “Why is my son tied up?”

“Harry, like Severus, was under the impression that I had… been the cause of your unfortunate accident. That I had hexed you.” Tom flicked his wand at Harry and severed the ropes.

“Don’t be daft! Who told them that?” scoffed Lily.

“Dumbledore.”

“As far as I can remember, James and I were driving home after having dinner with the Longbottoms.” Lily’s brows creased “I was tired and I shut my eyes for a bit. The next thing I knew, we were heading for a tree. I couldn’t find my wand and I tried to cast a wandless charm to stop the car but my magic felt all bunged up. The car hit the tree and after that I can’t remember anything.”

“So you weren’t at Godric’s Hollow” asked Severus, his voice tight.

“No, replied Tom, we were, Abraxus, Cappella and I. We wanted to talk to the Potters, to reassure them that I was no threat to them and to offer sanctuary. There was an explosion and the house caved in on us. Abraxus and Cappella died and I was gravely injured.”

“But, how could Dumbledore say that we were murdered?” asked Lily “Surely Frank and Alice told them that we’d just left their house?”

“Frank and Alice were, supposedly, accosted by ‘Death Eaters’” Professor Snape replied sadly. “They were tortured into insanity.”

“No!”

“Yes” replied Tom heavily. “The official story is that I murdered James and you, then turned my wand on Harry, who somehow survived the Killing Curse, which was blasted back onto me. Harry was left on your sister’s doorstep and Bella, Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange and Barty Crouch junior tortured Frank and Alice into insanity.”

“But, Bella? Bella used to nurse bloody butterflies back to health!” Lily exclaimed, incredulous.

“I do not doubt that she was under the imperius curse that night. Speaking of which…” Tom cast a spell which sent a circle of golden light across the death eaters. Lucius, amongst several others, glowed red.

“Finite!” snapped Tom. Those who had been surrounded by red light, shuddered; some shook their heads as if to dispel sleep, others stayed very still, one or two swore.

“So many.” Tom shook his head.

“What is going on!” demanded Harry, whose head was spinning. It felt like a dream, a hugely confusing, dream in which he was hit repeatedly with a tornado of information.

“Mr. Potter, it would seem that we’ve been living in a land of smoke and mirrors” drawled Professor Snape. “However, I would like to know why, if Mr. Potter did not survive the killing curse, he can speak in parseltongue?”

“Because, my dear Severus, so can we.”

OoOoO

Lily choked “How did you know!”

“Simple deduction, my dear” replied Tom. “But I think that, perhaps, Harry has had enough surprises for today.”

Harry’s head was in his hands. It was too much, much too much. He couldn’t take it all in. Tom- no Voldemort- no, there was no such person as Voldemort: Tom Riddle had not killed his parents, had not tried to kill him! Harry did not have to choose to kill or be killed; a weight, only discernable now that it was lifted, had vanished, leaving Harry feeling almost giddy.

Yet another threat lurked, like a grindylow amongst the weeds. So many things didn’t add up! And his Mum was alive!

“Severus, perhaps you could take Harry and his companion back to Hogwarts?” said Tom. “It would be best if you did not mention this encounter to anyone, Harry. Not yet.”

“But, wait!” Harry cried as Severus took his arm “What’s going to happen to Mum? What else haven’t you told me?”

“Mr. Potter, your mother will be quite safe” snapped Severus, taking Harry’s arm. “The situation is complicated and you already know more than is good for you.”

“Term ends in a week, Harry. You’ll have your answers, I promise” said Tom. “I am in the dark, myself, as to much of what has happened.”

Lily rushed over and grabbed Harry in an ungainly hug. “Look after him, Severus.”

Snape glared at her but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“He will be perfectly safe, provided that he tells everyone that he woke up in a field and, wisely, stayed on his backside until I found him with an unconscious Mr. Diggory.”

“Cedric’s not dead?”

“No, just sleeping.” Severus sighed, hoisting the Cedric onto his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

“Come, Mr Potter and, if you know what is good for you, pretend that you’re half asleep if the headmaster wishes to talk to you.”

*"Goodbye, Ssssspeaker!"* hissed Nagini, cheerfully.

Severus grabbed Harry’s arm and apparated the two boys back to Hogsmeade. When the world stopped spinning, Harry was sick over his Professor’s shoes.

“Bloody, bloody children… Should just dump them in a hedgerow… Oh God! I stink… bloody, puking Gryffindors…”

Suddenly, a great black shape jumped through said hedgerow. The beast- noticing the motley trio- attempted to avoid the collision but it was too late.

“Fucking dogs!!!”

Severus shoved the woolly mutt’s backside off his face and gave the dozy creature a slap on it’s flank. “Bugger off!”

But the dog was keening and licking Harry’s face.

“Oh this just puts the sodding tin lid on it! Potter, wake up! Get your mutt off me!”

There were footsteps and Minerva and Albus rushed into the clearing.

“The children? Are they hurt?” cried Minerva.

“They’re fine” snarled Severus. “Now please get them and this bloody dog off me!”

Harry stirred and opened his eyes “Si…Snuffles”

The dog barked joyfully and, jumping up, began nosing Harry, checking for injuries.

“What happened, Severus?!” asked Albus.

“Some bugger had turned the cup into a portkey. Deposited the boys onto the rain-swept fens. Cedric was knocked out. You’ll need to get him to Poppy.”

“And Harry?”

“Physically and mentally exhausted. The boys were half frozen when I picked them up- they chose to land in a singularly windy spot. I dried them and cast some warming charms.”

Albus had picked Harry up and was holding him in one arm whilst Minerva supported Cedric. Albus extended a hand down to Severus, who batted it ill-temperedly away.

“I’m just a little bruised, not an invalid.” The Potions Master snorted, struggling to his feet. “When did Potter get a dog?”

“Oh, he’s not Harry’s” said McGonagall quickly. “he’s Hagrid’s”

“Typical. Man’s a bloody menace.” Severus muttered as he limped along “Snuffles? Well, I suppose Hagrid needed a replacement for ‘Fluffy’. At least this one didn’t try to rip my leg off. Just break my back…”

“Oh hush, Severus.” Minerva called over her shoulder. “Rosmerta’s got a bottle of that special calvados you like: I’ll owl-order it from her when we get back to the castle.”

“I am not a child to be bribed out of my ill humour, Madam!” scoffed Severus, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Ye are until I tell you different!”

oOoOo

Over the last week of term, Harry often felt as if the night of the Tri-Wizard tournament was a dream. Severus was back to his snarky self- almost. Though, his eyes did seem to fall on Harry a lot. Like he was studying his face. Harry learnt to ignore him: if their eyes did meet, Severus would say something sarcastic about Harry’s attention span.

Dumbledore had changed, slightly, too. He seemed tense, as if waiting for another shoe to drop. Harry, who had woken on the way to the hospital wing, had verified Professor Snape’s story as Dumbledore had helped him across the Hogwarts grounds. If the poor boy had been so tired as to be unable to keep his head from nodding, it was no real surprise, given the strain of the final challenge.

Mad-eye Moody was also marginally different: he seemed rather more chipper and relaxed. Of course, it might have been because Krum and Karkaroff had been shipped back to Durmstrang with a flea in their ears. Karkaroff had, it seemed, been in the maze with Krum whilst one of his polyjuiced students sat in the Judges’ box. Professor Moody had collared Karkaroff in the maze and was strutting around with the words ‘I was right and you were wrong’ writ large on his expression.

On Wednesday, Professor Moody casually asked Harry to come to his office that evening as he had something of Harry’s in his possession. Harry, of course, immediately agreed: he had missed the Marauders’ map, not just because it was useful but because it was a link to his family. Harry had also been trying to reason out why V…Tom hadn’t revived his father as well. Maybe the sword only worked once?

So, at 8 o’clock, Harry knocked on Professor Moody’s office door. When he entered, the room was almost bare- only the foe glass, sneakascopes and some quills remained- and Professor Moody was tipping a handful of books into his trunk.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” said Mad-eye closing and re-opening his trunk. “Come here, lad.” Harry walked over and saw, to his surprise, that the trunk opened to reveal not his map but a stairway.

“Follow me, boy. Want to talk in private.”

OoOoO

“So, Harry, you’ve met Tom, hmm?”

Harry started, turning round green eyes on the grinning auror

“How…”

“Oh Harry, lad. Don’t fret yourself. I’m not going to turn you in to Dumblebore.”

“But…”

The old Auror fished around in his pocket and withdrew a small bottle, from which he took a swig. His features morphed; the grizzled grey hair lightened to honey blond, the wrinkled skin smoothed to milky white and the leg and eye dropped away as living flesh pushed them aside.

“You… You’re Crouch’s son!” Gasped Harry, his stomach still twisting from watching the transformation.

“Yup. The real Mad-eye Moody is currently in the Caribbean, probably drinking banana daiquiris and explaining to nubile young maidens how he lost his leg and eye in a swashbuckling fight against some Indonesian pirates. I modified his memory and put him on a cruise” grinned Barty Jnr. “He thinks his name is Gerald Humperdink.”

“Huh?”

“A little rat told Tom that a certain bumblebee was going to fiddle the Triwizard selection process and get you a place in the tournament. Tom figured you needed a little help.”

“Dumbledore entered me for the tournament?!”

“Yes, golden boy. You were beginning to lose your tarnish in the public eye because, although you certainly have been busy, it was nothing that Fudge would allow in the papers. He wants the wizarding public to think Tom is dead, see?”

“But…”

“Look, you showed how brave, capable and good you were in front of the press, five internationally respected mages and the best part of three schools. Dumbledore knew you were up to it, with a little help from your clever little witch. However, things didn’t go quite as planned, old Dumblebore didn’t count on your noble, stubborn spirit. Good thing I was here to nudge you in the right direction, although you certainly made my job a challenge!”

“I didn’t notice. I mean, you helped me with the dragons but Cedric and Dobby…”

“And who did you think got that information to them? The Gillyweed was a bloody nightmare: if you had just asked Longbottom, he could have told you about it immediately. It was in that book I gave him!”

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts “I thought you were in Azkaban.”

“When the Longbottoms fate was discovered, I went to my father and told him the truth: that Bella, Rudolphus, Rabastian and I had woken up in a ditch half a mile from the Longbottom estate. We couldn’t remember anything that had happened and, I suppose, it would have been wisest to keep quiet. But I was scared and I didn’t know what to do.”

Anger darted in the young man’s eyes

“My father took my wand and cast priori incantartum. It’s a spell which regurgitates the previous spells the wand has cast. My father called the auror department and, before I knew it, I was in a holding spell awaiting trial. Bella was so strange- like in a stupor- and, during the trial she said things which… they were so odd. She had been imperiused, I’m certain of it.”

“Anyway, we were sent to rot in Azkaban for the rest of our natural lives. I lost hope almost completely. Tom was dead, my father had betrayed me. Who else could help? Certainly not my poor, sick mother, who had never stood up to Dad in her life.”

Barty swallowed

“But, as it turns out, I was wrong. My mother, you see, had believed me and she didn’t give my father a moment’s peace until he agreed. She was dying and she wanted him to swap her for me. One living and one dying person entered Azkaban, one living and one dying person left. When I had recovered my senses, I begged my father to return me to Azkaban, to save my mother but it was too late. She was dead.”

“I spent the next decade or so under house arrest, with only Winky to be my companion. She tried her best to help me, even got me out to see the Bulgaria against Ireland match. Of course, when someone cast that fucking mark Dad blamed me. I had nothing to do with it, however. I didn’t even know how to cast it. Hell! Tom doesn’t know how to cast it.”

“The dark mark!” exclaimed Harry “I was told that Death-Eaters cast that whenever they, you know, killed.”

“The Death-Eaters were a group of pureblood supremacists who lived around Birmingham in the eighteen hundreds- before Tom was even born. They were a small group of fascists and their insignia was a skull. However, the group opposed Grindlewald and were somewhat… outclassed.”

Barty sighed and rubbed his chin.

“Someone started using the Death-Eater mark again, when things started coming to a head between Dumbledore and Tom. Aurors were the least of our worries at that time; The Order of the Phoenix- a group of young idealists under the governance of Dumbledore- were continually attacking us and they fought to kill. Somehow or other, though, the Order tended to attack when Tom and Abraxus were absent from our meetings. The poor buggers were always in groups of two or four. We tried to disarm them but… well, when one of your own has been murdered in front of your eyes, tempers get rather stretched. We were often rougher than we meant to be and there were a few fatalities.”

“But, why would they attack when Tom wasn’t there?”

“Tom can group-apparate and Abraxus… well, he was good at large-scale barriers. However, once we had left, the skull-mark always appeared above the battle field. We thought it was the Order’s mark, they thought it was ours.”

“Anyway, one day, when I was sitting at home letting my brain rot, Tom turned up. Apparently, Pettigrew had known about me and told Tom. He took the imperius off me and, after I’d told him what had happened, he thought for a bit, then asked me if I wouldn’t mind doing him a favour, that is, babysitting you throughout this bloody tournament. I immediately agreed and, when my father arrived home, Tom stunned him.”

“Tom cast a memory charm on my father and we left. However, my father- who is a powerful wizard- ground down the barrier and immediately sped off to Hogwarts. Luckily, Tom was keeping an eye on my father and intercepted him before he could spill he beans. My father is now living as a muggle in New York.”

Barty fished the Marauder’s map out of the front of his robes.

“This belongs to you. Try to keep out of trouble, okay? I’m not going to be here next year to help you out.”

“Thanks” replied Harry; he was feeling a little dazed. A thought occurred to him. “How come the cup was a portkey?”

“Ah, that one was me” grinned Barty, taking a swig from his hip flask. His features began to twist back into those of Mad-eye Moody. “Tom wanted a chat and he couldn’t turn up at the gates to invite you for tea and cakes, now, could he? I kept an eye on you in the maze, helped you out here and there. That’s why I needed the map.”

Harry followed ‘Mad-eye’ out of the trunk and into the bright light of the office. “Life’s going to get better, kid. Just keep your gob shut and your eyes open. Constant vigilance!” Moody winked his good eye mischievously.

“Thanks Sir!”

“Oh, and next time you visit the Hogs Head, ask the bar-tender that Gandalf wants you to know about Saruman.”

“Huh?”

“Dumbledore has arranged a celebratory Hogsmeade visit for Friday morning” grinned ‘Moody’. “Now, scram or I’ll give you a detention for being up past curfew!”

Harry ran through the corridors, map clasped in his hand. Life was certainly getting interesting.

“Ms Granger! I expressly told you not to help Longbottom! Detention, Friday morning, for your disobedience. And for being an insufferable know-it-all.” Severus snarled, glaring at Neville’s perfect potion.

“Don’t call her that! Hermione didn’t help Neville: he did it by himself!” cried Ron, who was sitting next to Hermione. Harry, hearing the ruckus, hurried over from the back of the room, where he’d been forced to work with Malfoy.

“And a detention on Friday for you too, Weasley, for your dishonesty and blatant disrespect!”

“But that’s the day of our Hogsmeade visit!” exclaimed Harry.

“So it is, Potter. Now get out! Or I’ll set you all detentions for every evening this week!"

“Come on Harry, you don’t want to get detention too” muttered Neville, pulling at Harry’s arm. Harry, after sending a sharp glare at Professor Snape, followed his friends out into the corridor.

“Snape’s being a right bastard this week” grumped Ron, as they made their way to Gryffindor tower.

“I don’t know,” said Hermione thoughtfully “Up ‘till this afternoon, I thought he’s been slightly, ah, calmer than usual. He hasn’t given Harry a detention since the tournament and Harry’s scarcely lost us five points.”

“Yeah, some sort of record” snorted Ron “Bet Dumbledore told him to go easy, what with the screw-up with the Cup.” Ron nodded sagely. “That’s why Harry didn’t get one today.”

“Yeah, probably” said Harry. He couldn’t help but feel, however, that his friends had detention because someone wanted him to be alone in Hogsmeade this Friday.

OoOoO

Harry lay awake, listening to the sound of his dorm-mates snoring and gazing idly at the Marauder’s map. Snape was, yet again, absent from the Hogwarts grounds. Where was he? Who was he with? What were they planning? Harry wasn’t entirely sure about visiting Hogsmeade tomorrow. His gut told him that he was in no danger and logic backed up this conclusion: if Tom intended to harm him, he would have done it on the night of the final Challenge. And even now, Tom didn’t have to play such an intricate game if he wanted to capture Harry: anyone who knew anything about Harry would realise that a straightforward ‘meet me in the forbidden forest or the girl gets it’ note would have him running, even if the girl in question was not his Mum.

But Harry had spent his whole life as a pawn in other people’s schemes. It was pretty obvious that Barty Crouch and Snape had connived it so that he would be able to visit the Hog's Head tomorrow alone. And Harry didn’t like being manipulated. Especially when his friends were also being mucked around.

Harry turned onto his side and burrowed his cheek into his pillow. For the first time in his life, he was being offered answers. Not ‘I’ll tell you later, dear boy’, not ‘that is so and so’s business’ not ‘I’m telling you such an obvious lie that it doesn’t count as one’. Principles were all well and good but did he really dare not find out what the Hog’s Head bartender had to say?

OoOoO

The Hog's Head was strangely empty that Friday morning. A thirty-something Asian man sat at one of the outside tables, talking on a mobile phone; his long, dark hair and sword contrasting vividly with the pin-striped business suit. At the counter was a teenage boy who, from his appearance, was obviously the business-man’s younger sibling. As Harry approached the bar, the boy turned and strode back to his table with a butterbeer and a clear drink in a martini glass, sending Harry a toothy smirk as he passed.

Behind the bar was a tall, elderly man, whose snowy hair and beard cascaded around his arms in tumbling waves. Harry caught the man’s gaze and saw that forget-me-not blue eyes lay behind the grubby lenses. Oh…

“Gandalf told me that you could tell me about Saruman.” Harry heard himself say.

Those blue eyes narrowed. “He did, did he boy? Better come round the back, then.” Said the man in a voice which, although unfamiliar, had familiar cadences. The old man raised his wand and the pub’s doors and window shutters slammed and bolted themselves shut.

“Follow me.”

oOoOo

The living quarters of the Hog’s Head were somewhat more clean and comfortable than the bar but there was definitely a ‘bachelor pad’ feel to the sitting room. None of the furniture matched: worn, brown Victorian leather armchairs clashed with a red silk, oriental sofa and shabby green, velvet curtains. Books and coffee cups littered the rag-tag of side tables and one pristine, flower-shaped lamp stood by the fireplace: apart from the cutesy portrait of a golden locked girl in a navy-blue velvet dress, it was the brightest, cleanest thing in the room.

“Bacon an' egg sarnie and a butterbeer.” said the bartender, slamming a couple of plates down on the table in front of Harry and thrusting a bottle of butterbeer into the boy’s hand.

The bartender sat down in an armchair and picked up his own sandwich. “You know who Saruman is?”

“No,” replied Harry “I was just told…”

“There’s this muggle book called Lord of the Rings. Written by a mate of mine, used to come to my pub when I lived in Oxford. Saruman is a wizard, see. An old an’ powerful wizard.”

Aberforth bit into his sandwich like he had a personal grudge against it. “He’s called Saruman the White ‘cos he’s the Head of the Order but he ain’t white: heart of cogwheels an’ metal, see? Just because a bloke is called white don’t mean he’s pure as the driven snow, catch me drift?”

Harry nodded, not at all sure that he did.

“Gandalf the Grey noticed Saruman wasn’t all that he said he was” continued the bartender “and, because Gandalf ain’t as grubby as his name, he tried to do summat about it. Saruman was a right bastard and bested him for a while and Gandalf died but, because the world still needed him, see, he was sent back as Gandalf the White.”

“That sounds an interesting story” said Harry uncomfortably.

“Wouldn’t know an allegory if it danced in front of you naked, huh boy?”

“Probably not, sir.” Harry replied, blushing.

“’Sir’ is my brother, the c**t in the castle.” Snorted Aberforth Dumbledore “You can call me Abe.”

“Your brother? Are you..?”

“My last name is Dumbledore, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Harry stared.

Aberforth stood up and strode around the room.

“That’s my kid sister, Ariana.” He said suddenly, pointing up at the portrait. “She was a lovely kid, sweet as honey and such a bright thing. Brighter than me by miles. One day, she were playing in the back garden. We lived in a muggle, village, see; me, my parents, Albus and Ariana. I was sick in bed, that day: I’d taken a fall from a tree and knocked myself silly. Mum was looking after me, while Albus was supposed to be keeping an eye on Ariana.”

Aberforth rubbed his eyes “But Albus, he went to the shops for a penny’orth of sweets and left little Ariana by her lonesome. Some boys, they caught sight of her whilst passing our house. Saw her mucking around with a flower, making it grow bigger. She liked flowers, our Ariana.”

“The boys asked her the trick of it and, when she couldn’t show them, they got rough. Wanted to stop the little ‘freak’ from doing it. They did bad things to her. Terrible things. And when Albus got back and caught them at it, he killed them.”

Noting Harry's horrified expression, Aberforth shrugged. "It's all well and good, kid, saying what's right and wrong after the event. But we never blamed Albus. Not after we saw..."

Aberforth sat down abruptly and took a chug of his beer “And we were in a right pickle. See, Ariana, what happened to her damaged her badly. It didn’t take a mind-healer to see that she had gone someplace in her head. We were scared. And then Dad got home and he looked inside her mind, he was a legilimens, you see, and… he said it was like she locked all her magic tight up in a little box. But this box was cracking, it wouldn’t hold. Dad worked with her all night, trying to get her to see that she didn’t have to be scared, that it was okay to be magic. But she couldn’t understand it and wouldn’t understand it. Eventually, she got angry and her magic exploded, sent Dad flying across the room smack into the wall. When Mum’d roused him and he went back to Ariana, the magic was back in the ‘box’. But that box had more cracks then ever now.”

“My parents were really scared. They knew that we couldn’t let on about Ariana; the Aurors would ship the poor kid off to St Mungos secure ward if they knew. She was a threat to the flaming Statute of Secrecy, what with her magic compressed like that: could explode out of her any time. There was no two ways about it, they'd have taken her off us and locked her up, secure like. And that's no life for a kid.”

Aberforth looked down at his knees.

“But there were three dead boys on our lawn and, even if we hid the bodies, it’d only be a matter of time before they were missed. We couldn’t say what had happened, else we’d lose Ariana. Dad went and handed himself into the Aurors the next morning; took the blame for killing the boys. He died in Azkaban.”

Harry’s eyes were round with horror.

“We moved away, to somewhere where no one knew us. We hid Ariana, kept her away from prying eyes. She was our secret. We soon learnt the art of barefaced lying, I can tell you. Probably why Albus was sorted into Slytherin.”

“Dumbledore, I mean Professor Dumbledore was a Slytherin?” exclaimed Harry.

“Thought he was a Gryffindor? No, though the Dumbledores are a Gryffindor family, right enough. I was sorted there, when my time came, as was my father.”

“Anyway” said Aberforth “we continued on, well enough, for many years. Then, one day, just before the end of term, Ariana had one of her episodes and Mum was badly injured. So badly that she died of it. Albus had just finished his NEWTs and he decided that he should stay at home and look after Ariana. I knew it was a daft idea; Albus had nowt to do with her, even when he was at home; most of the time he was locking in his bedroom corresponding with the great and the good, cementing his reputation as the most gifted student to enter Hogwarts. It was me who looked after Ariana, me who knew how to calm her and keep her happy. I had finished my OWLs, I could have stayed at home, but he insisted I finish my education.” Aberforth spat into the fire.

“Whilst I was at school, Baghilda Bagshot- she lived in Godric’s Hollow, just across the way from us- her nephew came over from Austria.”

“Godric’s Hollow!” gasped Harry.

“Yeah, we lived in the same village as Lily and James Potter, bet my brother never told you that.”

“No” said Harry, mortified.

“Gellert Grindelwald was the boys name and, by all accounts, Albus hung on him like a cheap set of robes pretty much from first sight. He was beautiful, was Grindelwald: long, flowing flaxen hair, violet eyes, good cheekbones. Caught Albus’s fancy from the get go. And he wasn’t just a pretty face; Grindelwald was no less brilliant than Albus and silver-tongued with it- could talk the birds from the trees if he chose to.”

“Grindelwald… Do you mean THE Grindelwald” asked Harry, appalled.

“Oh yes.” Snarled Aberforth “and Albus fell right under his spell. Neglected Ariana, couldn’t give a fig about the poor girl as long as he could sit and discuss world domination with handsome Gellert. Albus Dumbledore might have styled himself as the champion of muggles but, back then, he lapped up Grindelwald’s fascist claptrap. They were to overthrow the government, crush the statute of secrecy and rule as the glorious young leaders of the revolution.”

“Of course, when I came home at end of term and found out what they were planning, I told them straight- daft Gryffindork that I was- that I wasn’t having any of it. Ariana was in no state to be carted around the country like a bag of spuds. She needed care and attention, the likes of which she hadn’t been getting. I could tell.”

Aberforth bit his lip. “He didn’t like that, Grindelwald. He had a temper on him, that boy, which wasn’t pretty. He drew his wand and I drew mine, then Albus drew his to stop us fighting and Ariana, well, she got upset. She meant to help, poor kid but it went wrong. When I came round, Ariana was dead and Grindelwald had scarpered. Never saw him again.”

“I was in a state, what with my little sister dead." Aberforth said, his shoulders hunched. "I told Albus what I thought of him and his sense of priorities. He changed after that day, not that I would accept it for a long while, but he did. He was still arrogant and vain, still saw himself as one of the greatest minds and most powerful wizards ever to walk the earth, but he hated himself. He hated his selfishness, his ambition, his lack of integrity. He saw himself as the epitome of all things Slytherin.”

Aberforth sighed. “He decided to go into education. As a Hogwarts Professor, he thought himself safely out of the way of temptation. Of course, he didn’t realise that, being in charge of so many young minds, he had a shitload of power. Or maybe he did. I don’t know.”

“Anyhow, it was all fine ‘till Tom came along. It seemed to Albus that they were cut from the same cloth; Tom was smart, charming and ambitious. Like many minds of his quality, Tom flirted with the dark but he wasn’t a bad kid, from all accounts. Whereas the rest of the teachers thought butter wouldn’t melt, Albus could see no good in him.”

“It got worse after Tom had left school. He disappeared for a while, see, and when Tom came back, he had a beautiful bloke in tow. Japanese, he was but as milk and honey in complexion as Grindelwald. He wasn’t human, see, but one of their magical folk. Abraxus, he called himself: he took an English name because no-one could remember all the syllables of his real one.”

“Where Abraxus came from, muggles and magic lived together sweetly enough. Magic folk would train as priests and priestesses and it’s be their duty to look after the muggles; they’d heal their wounds, cure their diseases and protect them from those who would do them harm. Tom, he wanted to change things. He had fire in his belly. Only Albus couldn’t see that Tom was just an idealistic young mutt. He thought the boy was another Grindelwald. It got pretty nasty, near the end. Albus was so convinced that Tom had gone to the dark that he… well I think he framed Tom and his crew for a number of things.” Aberforth said bitterly.

“It’s been over an hour, boy, so you’d better get going. You don’t want to be missed.” Aberforth said suddenly, standing up. “I’ll show you out the back way.”

He led Harry out of the room and down a set of creaking stairs to a narrow door.

“Do… do you really think that Dumbledore, I mean Albus, I mean Professor Dumbledore would really do that? That he would really hurt people to get someone he thought was dangerous imprisoned?”

Aberforth looked at him, a pained crease forming between his eyes. “Harry, Al wrote Grindelwald’s slogan, the one which he used to justify his atrocities: ‘For the Greater Good’.”

“Hey, Harry” a hand shook Harry out of his reverie. “Are you okay?”

Harry, who had been sitting, staring, unseeing, into the empty fireplace, looked up.

“Hi Ron, Hermione. Yeah, I’m fine. How did your detentions go? I hope Snape wasn’t too much of a bastard.” Said Harry, forcing his brain into the here and now.

“It was quite interesting, actually,” replied Hermione sitting down “Professor Snape needed some research done into the medicinal properties of a fanged lobelia and belladonna hybrid. He let me use his personal library. He has a number of self-updating journals.” She smiled beautifically.

Ron rolled his eyes. “I had to help Madam Hooch teach some dumb first years how not to fall off their brooms. Remedial flying class. They were hopeless to begin with but I managed to teach them the basics.” A glimmer of pride sparkled in his blue eyes.

“Doesn’t sound too bad, by Snape’s standards. Hogsmeade was boring” Harry said, fishing around in a paper bag “It was too hot and the shops were all really crowded. I got you some fudge” he chucked a thick packet at Ron “and some raspberry chocoballs” he handed a box to Hermione.

“Thanks mate.”

“Thank you Harry.”

“Better go get our trunks” said Harry. “The Hogwarts express leaves in an hour.”
“Yeah.” said Ron “You know, it’s kind of odd, getting back on the train without having some major drama or other. I almost feel like something is going to happen.”

“The Final Challenge wasn’t dramatic enough?” asked Hermione, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Yeah, you’re right.” smiled Ron. “I guess it’s just because it’s usually us and Harry facing whatever together. Not that I miss it life-threatening situations, of course” He laughed “I’m not mad enough to think a year without You-know-who resurrecting himself is a year wasted!”

oOoOo

Privet Drive: beige, uniform and soul-rottingly boring. Harry sighed: it could have been worse. After picking him up from the station, his Uncle had scarcely said two words to him and, as soon as Harry had dragged his trunk to the door, his Aunt and cousin had stepped outside, looking at him as if he was a piece of dog turd, before climbing into the car with his Uncle and driving off. Good riddance.

Harry dragged his trunk up the stairs. It was a good omen, he guessed, that they hadn’t locked up his things. It must be the influence of the Azkaban escapee Godfather, Harry thought, smirking to himself.

On entering his bedroom, however, Harry noticed two things. Firstly, in the corner, amid the bland, white pine, factory formed furniture, was a tall, dark-wood cupboard, intricately carved with twisting vines. Secondly, on the bed was a leather bound book, the title embossed in slightly worn gold print.

Harry gently lowered Hedwigs cage onto the side table and stepped over to the bed. “The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe?” he murmured, picking up the thick book. The leather cover felt warm and smooth under his skin.

Harry sat down on the bed. This didn’t add up. He could understand the wardrobe, just. His Aunt and Uncle used his bedroom as a junkroom: maybe it was some recently-acquired heirloom too valuable to throw away.

However the book was a different story. It was lying on his bed, like a gift. Petunia and Vernon weren’t known for their generosity, at least, not to him. Besides, they wouldn’t exactly give him a ‘welcome home’ present, that would imply that he was welcome in their home.

Besides, neither his Aunt nor his Uncle were great readers: Vernon read the papers and Petunia had her glossy mags and bad romance novels but, really, they preferred to watch TV.

And, even if they wanted to buy him a book it would not be one about witches.

They weren’t fond of antiques either. Harry’s Aunt and Uncle liked things new and shining from the factory. They’d never see the beauty in the smooth, faded leather of this volume, the soft, worn embossing, the yellowed pages.

It just didn’t add up. Someone, probably someone magical, had been in his room and left him- for their own, probably slightly deranged, reasons- a wardrobe and a book about a wardrobe. It didn’t get any more cryptic than this.

Harry set the book down on the bed and walked over to examine the wardrobe. To his surprise, Harry realised that the vines were, in fact, snakes.

*“Huh?”*

A snake- a carved, wooden snake- wriggled to life *“Hello Sssspeaker.”*

*“Uh, Hello.”* replied Harry, only now realising that he was speaking in Parseltongue. It seemed that he was right.

*“You want in?”*

*“Um, yesss pleassse.”*

The wardrobe creaked open

*“Thanksss”*

*“You’re welcome”*

The smell of mothballs assailed Harry’s nose as he beheld a plethora of old coats: frock coats, military coats, leather jackets, tweed coats, luxuriant furs, even- a nice touch- a long, blue velvet cloak. Feeling rather stupid, Harry stuck his arm into the mass of fabric, reaching to find the back of the wardrobe.

The first surprise was that his questing fingers did not find wooden boards, just thin air.

The second surprise was when he felt a warm, soft hand grab his own and haul him inside.

oOoOo

A flash of red hair and green eyes flew past Harry’s eyes as he fell into the arms of his mother.

“Mum?!” he gasped, straightening up. Lily looked up at him, smiling. She was a pretty witch with long, curly hair the rich deep red of mahogany and eyes the colour of holly leaves, behind wire-framed glasses.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses” Harry said quietly.

“I switched to contact lenses when I entered Hogwarts.”

“Oh.” To escape the slight awkwardness of the moment, Harry looked around the room; it was a spacious kitchen with high ceilings and large bay windows. The walls were painted a soft cream and the furniture was predominantly aged oak, stained a dark gold by the sunshine of many years. Unlike Aunt Petunia’s fitted kitchen, however, the oak furniture was in a hodge-podge of designs; similar enough to compliment, yet different enough not appear monotonous. There was a dresser, crammed with beautiful china of various patterns, shelves stacked with cookery books, a large table surrounded by elegant chairs, and a large, porcelain butlers sink, flanked by marble topped cupboards. In one corner an immense, dark green Aga crouched and, above their heads, hung an art deco, frosted glass lamp, in the form of a lily.

“Where are we?” asked Harry.

“Tom’s place. The boys are out now. They thought we ought to have some time alone.” said Lily, sitting down. “Are you hungry?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll just fix us some lunch. We, er, keep rather late hours at this house” Lily said with an impish grin.

She walked over and opened a door, revealing a set of shelves stocked with milk, a butter-dish several wheels of cheese, a couple of casserole dishes and a number of assorted jars. “What sort of cheese do you like, Harry? We have cheddar, brie, camembert, stilton, emmantal, caephilly, and y fenni- it’s like cheddar but with mustard seeds and ale.”

“Um, brie would be good” replied Harry.

Lily grabbed a wheel of white cheese, a bottle of cider and the butter dish, setting them on the table before going to another cupboard and picking up a bowl of apples, pears and grapes and a loaf of bread.

At that moment there was a bark at the door.

“Let him in, Harry.”

Harry walked over to the door, which was in two sections: the upper half was clear glass and the lower half was wood. Harry bent down and unbolted the bottom section of the door and was bowled over by something small, blond and very fluffy.

When Harry opened his eyes, he was looking into the most beautiful, round, liquid brown eyes he had ever seen- Cho Chang included. The puppy’s muzzle was inky black, a vivid contrast to the silky blond hair on his face and plump little body. The pads of his paws were soft as nappa leather.

“Hey, little guy” Harry stroked the puppy’s head. The dog licked his nose with a soft, bubblegum pink tongue.

“Tom thought that, as you were so fond of, er, ‘Snuffles’, you might like a puppy of your own.” Lily laughed. “Once you guys are done making out, perhaps you could wash your hands and come to the table.”

“You know about Snuffles, then?” Harry asked, shuffling over to the sink: the puppy was playfully attacking his laces.

“Yeah.” Lily’s expression suddenly darkened but, on looking over at her son, she shook her head ruefully and smiled.

“Come and sit down Harry. We need to talk about some things.”

OoOoO

Once Lily had helped Harry to cheese, grapes, warm bread and a glass of cider, she started talking.

“When I was a little girl, not much more than a toddler, really, I realised that, sometimes, if I really wanted something to happen, it would. I thought it was all to do with wishes, like I had a fairy godmother or something. However, by the time I was six, I’d discovered that I could make these wishes come true all by myself. For example, at the park, I could swing really high and, when I jumped off the swing, instead of falling on the concrete like a sack of potatoes, I’d float like a bit of thistledown. I thought it was great fun but it annoyed my sister, Petunia, no end. She was worried that someone would see us.”

“Sounds like the Petunia I know” said Harry.

Lily pulled a face like she had a bad taste in her mouth but continued “Someone did see me. A little boy from a nearby housing estate. All the kids thought he was weird. He was very bright, hyper-intelligent in fact, well above the level of the other kids, so he was rather aloof. He was also… well, not conventionally handsome and, to make matters worse, his mother wasn’t very well off; his clothes came from charity shops and, although Eileen did her best to keep him tidy… well, there are some people too poor to afford soap.”

“The little boy approached me and Petunia one day; I had been playing with a flower, making it open and close. He… well, he told me I was a witch and I took offence, thinking he meant the storybook kind.” Lily smiled, sadly “However, the little boy was brave enough to try again and we became friends. He was a half-blood; his father was a muggle and his mum was a witch, so he knew all about magic. He was… very sweet, in a awkward sort of way, and very kind. He had a whip-crack temper, though. He once accidentally cast a severing charm on a branch above Tuney’s head when she was mean to us.”

Harry grinned; he liked the sound of this kid, who seemed rather a lot like him at the same age- apart from the hyper-intelligent bit.

“When I was about seven, my friend turned up at the playground with his hair clean and shining and wearing beautiful, expensive clothes; a really nice cotton shirt, a red cashmere jumper and some wool trousers. He was really excited; he had a secret, a wonderful secret. His rich ‘Uncle’ Tom, a wizard, had come back from America. Apparently his ‘Uncle’ had left before his mum, Eileen, and dad, Tobias, married, a few months before my friend was born, not knowing Eileen was pregnant at the time…”

“Oh.” said Harry, comprehension dawning.

“Yeah.” Lily smiled “We found out the truth much later. Tom had started travelling pretty much immediately after he left school but he returned to England- briefly- to enquire about a teaching post at Hogwarts. His application was turned down and he spent a night at ‘the Seven Broomsticks’ in Knockturn Alley, where he met Eileen; they had known each other at Hogwarts and got chatting. Tom left in the morning for Japan, not knowing that she was with child. When Eileen realised she was pregnant, she was too proud to write to him; they had parted by mutual consent and she didn’t want Tom to marry her just because of an accidental pregnancy. Eileen, who was quite a powerful witch, slowed the pregnancy right down using a charm, so it wouldn't show so soon. However, she couldn't delay it forever and, when her parents found out, they threw her off. In desperation, Eileen married Tobias, a muggle who had long worshiped her. He told her that he didn’t mind looking after another man’s child.”

Lily sighed. “However, it turned out that Tobias did mind and, after a brief, largely disastrous marriage, he got drunk one night and wrapped his car around a tree, killing himself. Luckily for Eileen, she’d had his life insured, which helped them scrape by until Tom came back and discovered what had happened to his childhood sweetheart.”

“Tom was aghast when he learnt what had happened and immediately insisted on relieving them. Hardship had worn down Eileen’s pride and, after a brief period of reluctance, she allowed Tom to move them to a nicer house and give her a decent stipend. Tom had become quite wealthy: he’s an artist and his paintings sold well in both the muggle and magical markets.”

Lily’s face saddened.

“Anyway, when we were eleven, we got our Hogwarts letters and Tom took us to Kings Cross on September 1st. He had to disguise himself using polyjuice potion and, at the time, I didn’t understand why. On the train we met two little boys, James Potter and Sirius Black. They were really unpleasant to my friend; he simply said that he wanted to be in Slytherin and James immediately started taunting him.”

“James Potter?” said Harry, sitting up “I thought…”

“James Potter was an arrogant little toerag. His parents had longed for a child for many years and, when he arrived, he was thoroughly spoilt: until he went to Hogwarts, James’ little universe was filled with people who told him that he was the most intelligent, beautiful, talented little boy in the world and he was given everything he desired. At school, it was much the same. Minerva and Albus flat out worshipped him, as did most of the Gryffs.”

Lily took a deep breath, calming herself.

“My friend was sorted into Slytherin and I was sorted into Gryffindor. However, against our Housemates' wishes, we remained really close friends and, as I grew up, I fell in love with him. He later told me that had loved me since the first day he’d seen me. When we graduated, we started Masters courses: his was in Alexandria, in Egypt, mine was in Berlin but we saw each other often enough.”

“One day, however, my fiancée, we were engaged at the time, called round unexpectedly. He seemed strange, unlike himself. He told me that he had decided to join the Dark Lord, who he said could offer him much more than he could ever hope to earn as a Research Assistant. He said that marrying me was no longer an option because I was muggleborn and his Lord had views on our place in his world. Therefore, he was throwing off our engagement.”

Lily sighed deeply.

“I don’t know why I didn’t find this complete about-face suspicious at the time. Maybe I’d always thought that he was too good for me. Maybe I was so upset and angry, I just wasn’t thinking straight. Anyway, I told him to get the hell out and to keep away from me.”

“Do you think he was he under the imperius?” asked Harry curiously.

“Worse than that. ‘He’ was bloody Sirius Black under polyjuice.”

“What?!” Harry spluttered.

“Oh yes. And Sirius visited my fiancee in Alexandria, disguised as me, and told him that I was finishing with him. With unmerited cruelty. He was heartbroken. Sirius apparently did it because James wanted me for himself. Unfortunately for him, however, he was a little too late.”

“How do you mean?” asked Harry, his face pale. Lily reached over and took his hand.

“There’s no easy way of telling you this, Harry but, perhaps, knowing what James really was will help a little. When Black destroyed my relationship, I was already carrying you.”

“But… That can’t be right.” Harry gasped “I look so much like James.”

“Pure coincidence. You get your eyes from me; same shape, colour and, sadly, strength: I can scarcely see past my nose without glasses or contacts. Your hair and build are your father’s, which he inherited from Tom: worn long, Tom’s hair is merely wavy. If you cut it, it looks like he’s been pulled through a hedge backwards. And forwards. And possibly sideways” Lily laughed “That’s why my fiancee always used hair gel- which doesn’t mix well with potions fumes, let me tell you.”

Lily’s smile faded “Of course, when I thought my fiancee had dumped me, I was much too proud to tell him that I was with child. So history repeated itself: I married the man who had long adored me to give a father to my baby. James was there and I didn’t want to be a single mother.” Lily ran a finger absentmindedly around the rim of her cider glass “My choice of husband was, I am ashamed to admit, partially to spite my fiancee; he loathed James Potter with a passion. However, I did not tell James I was pregnant with you.”

“James and I were happy enough for a time: he never suspected that you might not be his biological child and, I am almost ashamed to admit it, I didn’t feel guilty. I knew what James was: he was a user and, if I used him in return, so what.”

Lily rubbed her forehead. “James was a member of Dumbledore’s little club, the Order of the Phoenix. He started coming home with more and more stories about Voldemort; the people he’d killed, his blood-supremacist philosophies, his determination to become the next Adolph Hitler. I didn’t pay much attention to it. Although the Papers seemed determined to mire us in doom or gloom, there was suspiciously little activity for a group so vicious and bloodthirsty as the ‘Death Eaters’ seemed to be: a handful of Phoenix members dying in brawls, one or two ‘gas leaks’ which might or might not have been gas leaks, a few sudden deaths of politicians which- quite honestly- weren’t all that suspicious if you looked into things, etc. It didn’t add up to me. It wasn’t a ‘Night of the Long Knives’. More like ‘Afternoon of the Peashooters’.”

“One day, James came back really agitated, saying we had to leave our house immediately. Apparently this Voldemort was after you. James said there was this prophesy; it said that you would be the one to defeat Voldemort and, somehow, he’d overheard it and decided to come after you.”

Lily smiled wryly “So off we went to Godric’s Hollow. The house was under Fidelus and Peter was our secret-keeper. Dumbledore suggested him, no doubt knowing that Peter was in cahoots with Tom: when Sirius and James broke us up, Peter had finally grown some balls. He saw what his friends were capable of doing and he wanted out.”

“Marcus Quentin, a mutual friend of Peter and Tom, spent a boozy night at the pub with Peter, who eventually spilled what James and Sirius had done. Marc told Tom, who, of course, was my fiancee’s father and Tom decided to meet Peter, got to know him, etcetera.”

“When James and I moved to Godric’s Hollow and named Peter secret-keeper, Tom started to become very concerned. He was pretty sure there was a mole in his group, The Order of the Pegasus, and it seemed to him as if someone was practically paving the way for him to kill me and James: he had the ‘motive’, he had the opportunity but whoever had planned this was very misguided: Tom isn’t a murderer and especially not some sort of Herod. He’d never kill a baby, let alone the son of a girl he loved like a daughter. Besides, the prophecy referred to a child born at the end of July and there were two, you and Neville Longbottom.”

“Tom decided that he had to do something. He was going to visit Godric’s Hollow, going to tell us that he had no intention of hurting you and that we were being set up. He’d decided to visit us on Halloween but, on the 30th October, James and I received a surprise invitation to the Longbottoms’ for dinner and James, who liked Frank, insisted that we went.”

Lily stood up and went over to the Aga “I’ve already told you what happened after that Halloween meal.” She said quietly. “I don’t really want to discuss it again. Now, I’ve got some steamed pudding; Tom made it for you on hearing that you liked treacle tart.”

Lily bustled around, decanting the syrupy sauce into a jug, grabbing bowls and spoons, fetching a jug of custard from the cold-larder. And giving Harry time to think.

When Lily sat back down, having furnished Harry with a bowl of sticky-toffee pudding, Harry asked a question which had been flitting in and out of his mind like an icy butterfly.

“Mum, you never told me my father’s name.”

Lily looked up, tears in her eye. “Oh Harry, I wish… I wish you could have known him when I knew him. When he was young and sweet and so very kind and thoughtful. Before Sirius Black destroyed him.”

“Mum?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“His name is Severus Snape.”

Whoever had designed this room had clearly been thinking ‘Gryffindor boy’, which was a comforting thought. Tom and his… and Snape were both Slytherins and, despite the roses, the décor had a decidedly masculine feel: no frills as such, just richness and elegant lines. Hell, even the flower arrangement was masculine. It was obvious that the room had been designed with him in mind and that no expense, whether in time or money, had been spared. It was kind of strange; no one had done something like this for him before. Especially not the Dursleys. He’d still be in the cupboard under the stairs if not for them thinking they were being watched.

However, great digs aside, Harry felt like he had every right to feel miserable. What his mother had told him had turned his world upside down. Okay, hearing that the Headmaster could be medically classified as a psychopath had been seriously bad news. Harry had, on the night of the Final Challenge, picked up enough to guess that someone was lurking behind the scenes, twisting things and misinforming people but Dumbledore? It was almost unbelievable but so many people seemed to be confirming it; Tom, Lily, even Aberforth, Dumbledore’s brother. Their stories correlated perfectly. It was extremely troubling; Harry didn’t know which idea was the more frightening- the most powerful dark wizard in history set on murdering him or the most powerful ‘light’ wizard in history using him as a pawn to trap Tom. From the sounds of it, people on Dumbledore’s chessboard tended to die violently. As did those nearest and dearest to them.

However, this danger was, strangely enough, nothing compared to the afternoon’s revelations. Harry had loved his Godfather, idolised him even. The thought that, one day, he could live with Sirius, a man who seemed to exemplify all the best traits of Gryffindor, that thought had kept Harry going and now it crumpled, like parchment in the fire. Harry knew that, whenever he looked into Sirius’s eyes, he’d see his mother’s tears. Whenever Harry heard Sirius’s voice, he’d hear his mother’s break with grief. Whatever Sirius’s motives, breaking up his pa… Lily and Snape had been something more than a mere crime. It was obvious that Lily had loved Snape, though Harry could scarcely comprehend why, and that Snape had loved Lily. Lily said that Sirius had destroyed Snape and, as much as Harry disliked the snarky, arrogant, bullying git… Well, it was just so wrong for Sirius to take it upon himself to split up what seemed to have been a marriage in all but name. In fact, Sirius reminded Harry rather uncomfortably of Dudley, who had scared off Harry’s potential friends with lies about Harry’s delinquency.

All intimacy, all affection, all pleasure in Sirius’s company had gone up in smoke and, as little as Harry could like or respect the man Sirius seemed to be, he still mourned the friendship, mourned the man who had always been kind to Harry, who had escaped Azkaban to protect him and lived off rats so he could stay close to Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

And to lose Sirius as a father-figure and have him replaced by Snape! Snape, who had always loathed him. Shape, who seemed to live to torment Harry and his friends. Snape, the greasy, slimy, bastard of a Potions Master! It was fucking screwed up. Having Voldemort as his grandfather he could deal with: Tom seemed a nice enough bloke and Harry knew, from his second year at Hogwarts, how hair-rippingly frustrating it was to be unjustly accused of being dark and how lonely it became when public opinion turned against you. However, Snape as his father? He’d never come to terms with that.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and Tom entered, holding the squirming puppy under one arm and carrying a tray laden with soup and toast in the other. Around the tray was a violet aureole, which seemed to deflect the puppy’s kicking paws.

“It’s tomato soup, Harry. With crispy potato letters floating in it.” He said in a teasing voice.

Harry grinned in spite of himself and sat up. “I’m not three, you know.”

“Well, I’m technically, oh, about seventy” grinned Tom “but I’m still not too old for this.”

“How come you look so young?” asked Harry, taking the tray.

“Well, for a number of reasons. Firstly, my horcruxes were made when I was seventeen so, when I died, they averaged themselves out, making me, biologically speaking around mid-thirties. If you were to read a book on horcruxes, which I don’t suggest you do, you’d see that they recommend making them at the earliest opportunity. It’s a damn waste to go to all the effort of resurrecting oneself, only to return as a 200 year old mage who is practically at death’s door.” Tom nicked an alphabet and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“Secondly, I am a half-blood whose mother was as pureblood as it’s possible to be” Harry opened his mouth to speak but Tom waved him to silence “No, no, hear me out Harry. Have you never noticed how wizards have roughly twice the natural life-span of muggles and how even muggleborns tend to make it past one-hundred in relatively good nick?”

“Yeah, I guess.” said Harry.

“Ever wondered why?” smirked Tom, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“Um, I just thought it was the magic” said Harry, trying to push the puppy away from his tray. Tom picked the little creature up and set him on his lap.

“Not a bad guess but no cigar, kid. We have long life-spans because most of us, especially those directly descended from the Hogwarts founders, have a fair amount of Youkai blood running in our veins.”

“Youkai?” said Harry “I heard Aberforth something about them. What are they?”

“Youkai are… well, they’re a little like elves, as they’re described in Lord of the Rings; immortal, beautiful, incredibly bright and having supernatural speed and agility. However… well, you know what an animagus is?” said Tom.

“Yeah?”

“Well, youkai are like animagi but they approach it from the other side. They are, well, the closest word is animals, dogs, cats, horses, etc. However, because they are so inherently magical, they are born with the ability to take a human form. Here, I’ll get my sketch book.”

Tom fished his wand out of his pocket and made a movement which Harry recognised as a summoning charm. A yellowed book of heavy, watercolour paper came flying towards the bed, causing the puppy to yap in excitement.

Tom caught the book and flipped through, finally coming to a double page. On one side, there was an exquisite watercolour portrait of a beautiful young man, who was lying on his back, acting as a trampoline for a chubby toddler. The man’s eyes were an exquisite, sparkling silver, a colour echoed in the strange tattoos, which curled and twisted like bindweed stems across his cheekbones and over his bare chest. His hair, which was fanned out behind him, was a primrose pale blond, contrasting nicely with his navy blue trousers. The toddler, who also had long, pale blond hair and silver eyes, was dressed in little blue dungarees and a silver shirt.

“This was Abraxus Malfoy” Tom said sadly “He was a youkai prince.”

“Malfoy… but the Malfoys are purebloods!” gasped Harry.

“Purely magical blood, yes, pure human, not any longer.” Tom replied “Abraxus married Capella Malfoy, who, as an only child and orphan, was the sole heir to the Malfoy name. They met when Abraxus accompanied me to England” Tom smiled ruefully “It was entirely a match of affection and, after they married, Abraxus took her surname. Youkai have no need for surnames, you see. They can tell who belongs to which family simply by smell and pack markings.”

“Anyway, this is a picture of a youkai transformation” said Tom, pointing to a moving pencil sketch.

Harry looked at the tiny figure of a long haired man, still identifiable as Abraxus even though he was only an inch tall, merge into a gigantic Pegasus. And by gigantic, he meant the size of a jumbo jet.

“Abraxus was a Pegasus Youkai” said Tom, observing Harry's bemused expression “He was very ancient and wise but also playful. ‘Vivid’ would be one word to describe him. He loved life, not just his own but all life. How Albus could have deceived himself was beyond me.”

Tom looked so truly sad that Harry, whose curiosity had long banished his misery and sense of ill-usage, felt honestly sorry for him. This Abraxus bloke seemed to Tom what Ron and Hermione were to Harry.

“I’m sorry… I mean, I know he died at Godric’s Hollow.” Harry said awkwardly. Tom patted his hand.

“Thank you. Anyway, I’ve digressed from the original subject. The reason why Purebloods tend to live so much longer than non-magical humans is that we are all descended, to a greater or lesser extent, from the Hogwarts founders. Have you never wondered, Harry, why their names all alliterate and how apt they all are?”

“Alliterate?”

“Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff”

“Oh, you mean they all have first names that start with the same letter as their surnames? Uh, no.”

“Apart from Helga Hufflepuff, who was old wizarding stock, the Hogwarts founders were all Hanyou- youkai and human hybrids. The Western Lands, in the 900s and 1000s weren’t a good place to be if you were hanyou. The young king, Sesshoumaru, had just lost his father because the old king had married a muggle and died protecting her. Understandably, Sesshoumaru was a little pissy about mixed-species marriages and, therefore, if you had married a human or had human and youkai parents, it was best to disappear abroad for a bit until he calmed down.”

“Salazar Slytherin was a half-blood. Sad story that. His father was a snake youkai- beautiful person inside and out- who had married a priestess. In Japan, magical people are known as priestess and priests. The snake youkai died soon after the little family reached England, defending Salazar and his mum from some Christians who wanted to kill the ‘demon spawn’. Luckily for her, Godric’s father, a lion hanyou, discovered the little family and took them in. The Gryffindors, as they styled themselves, had fled the Western Lands a while earlier and they had already integrated into the small magical community. Gryffindor and Salazar became as close as any brothers- opposites attract and all.”

“Rowena Ravenclaw, similarly was the daughter of an eagle youkai and a priest. They tended to get together, you know. Priestesses and Priests were often called to dispose of troublesome youkai and, well, you know how people are; troublesome can simply mean ‘passing through and doing no harm to anyone’. Sometimes, these meetings turned into friendships and, occasionally the friendships deepened. When that happened, the happy couple would skidaddle into countries where mixed marriages were accepted.”

Tom sighed “Anyway, because hanyou are half youkai, their life-spans are well over the normal range, depending, of course, on the strength of their sires. None of the founder’s parents were tai-youkai- that means greater youkai- so they were not immortal but they each had 500 years of natural life. Gryffindor lived to 200- he got killed in battle during one of the Goblin Rebellions- Ravenclaw died of grief at the age of 150; her daughter disappeared and she just pined away. Salazar… he retired and lived amongst his family for a number of centuries but, having watched two of his children die of old age, he committed suicide. Couldn’t bear to outlive his kids.”

Tom sighed “That’s why many ‘pureblood’ wizards don’t encourage mixed marriages. The more human blood a wizard has in them, the earlier they die. Your true purebloods, like my mother, should, naturally, live to around 300, whereas most wizarding families, like the Blacks, Malfoys and Dumbledores, who have a few muggleborns in their ancestry, generally don’t reach 200. It’s tough, you know, for parents to outlive their kids. Seeing your baby sicken, wither and die whilst you’re still in your prime…”

Harry looked at him wide eyed. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

“So, part of the reason I look so young is my youkai blood. I may be biologically thirty but my genetics translate that into about 18. That’s the age when the aging process slows right down for youkai: at eighteen they’re old enough to fend for themselves if they need to. Of course,” Tom smiled mischievously “my heritage has given me a couple of extra talents. As I’m descended from a snake youkai, I can communicate with snakes and I can create force fields wandlessly” Tom held out his hand and a purple circle of energy crackled and expanded in a sphere. “They tend to burn out wands, though, if you’re hold them in the same hand that creates the field. Too much energy is channelled through them, you see. I lost my first wand when I tried this trick whilst holding it. Poor thing snapped clean in two and singed my fingers pretty painfully.”

“Was that the phoenix and yew wand?” Harry asked curiously.

“Hmm, oh, yes it was” said Tom, banishing the field “I have another yew wand, this time with an inu-youkai hair for the core. It was made for me by a Japanese craftsman”

“Why were both your wands yew?”

“Well, the wand chooses the wizard, Harry, and Yew seems to work for me; it’s the wood of transformation, rebirth and spiritually. Very powerful but also protective; yew trees are planted in graveyards because they are known to protect the spirits of the dead. It’s also a very contradictory wood” Tom said with a laugh “It is springy on one side, rigid on the other, which is why yew-wood bows are so prized- and the wood, unusually, combines light and dark colours.” Tom gave Harry his wand “Gold with black specks: my wand came from a beautiful old tree which was apparently planted by Salazar’s father, Ayumu.”

Harry rolled the wand between his fingers; it felt powerful but also warm and welcoming, a bit like Fang, Hagrid’s dog.

Harry handed it back to Tom. “It feels nice.”

“You can feel the years on it, can’t you?” smiled Tom. “Ayumu was your great, great, great, etc grandfather, so this wand would probably work almost as well for you as your own.”

“It’s kind of strange” said Harry quietly “In my second year, I dreaded being Slytherin’s heir and then I found out that it was you and…”

“In the wizarding world, Harry,” said Tom carefully “You’ll find it doesn’t pay to trust your memories overmuch. Events can be erased and a sufficiently skilled legilimens can even plant memories in your mind.”

Harry nodded “I’ve kinda come to the conclusion that… what happened at the end of my first year… it wasn’t really you. I mean, you’re so different. You feel different.”

Tom nodded. “You’re right but I think that this conversation would be best saved for tomorrow. You’d better finish or, rather, start your food.” Tom tapped the bowl and plate with warming charms.

“Your Mum and I are around so, if you need anything, just come down to the kitchen.” Tom said, standing up and putting the puppy down on the floor. He plucked a hair from his head and transfigured it into a soft dog bed. “And you might want to think of a name for the pup; if we call him ‘dog’ any longer he might get a complex.” Tom laughed, a rich, warm sound.

“See you tomorrow, kid.”

“Bye” Harry said, feeling slightly better now.

“Oh and Harry, give your father a chance. Although you have every reason not to think well of Severus, given the way he’s been to you, just try to remember that he’s not had an easy life and seeing the eyes of the woman he loved in a face reminiscent of the man who stole her away… well it was hard for him. It doesn’t excuse his behaviour but he does regret how he’s treated you.”

“Yes, now he knows I’m his son.” Said Harry resentfully.

“Well, new perspectives sometimes do change people’s views and ideas” Tom said mildly. “Goodnight, Harry, sleep well.”

Harry picked up an ‘f’ shaped potato and viciously ripped the hook off with his teeth. As if he could ever forget what a bastard Snape had been to him over the last four years.

You forgave Ron, though. Whispered a little voice. And Ron’s reason for being an ass was short-sighted jealousy, whereas Snape…

Telling the little voice to stuff it, Harry put the tray on the bedside table and picked up the puppy, who had been scrambling to get up on the bed, and put him on his lap. A wicked idea came to him.

“So, little fella, what do you think about being called Godric?”

Harry woke to the scent of honeysuckle and mandarin. And the flickering of a snake’s narrow, forked tongue against his nose.

*“Hey, snakelet, head off tail and upsy for yummy meat!”* pshhed Nagini. The cheeky creature had actually twined herself over his headboard and was now nudging at Harry’s cheek.

*“Mmmgh”* Harry replied rolling over and burying his face in the pillow.

*“Basilisk said Nagini must get snakelet up!”* The pretty, green snake snapped playfully at Harry’s hair, causing the puppy to yap wildly with excitement.

*“Okay! Okay!”* Harry stumbled over to the wardrobe and pulled out his t-shirt and jeans of yesternight- which were now crease free.

*“Snakelet may carry Nagini”* the Ryukyu green snake hissed imperiously.

Harry smirked and walked over to the bed, holding out his arm to the funny, domineering little creature. Nagini gently twisted around his wrist.

*“How come you smell of flowers?”* he asked the little snake, sniffing appreciatively.

*“Tom’sss water pit is nice for Nagini. Ssunlight warm. Feels good to sssswim!”* she psshed happily.

*“You nicked his bathwater?”* Harry asked with a laugh, reaching down with his snake-free hand to get the door.

*“Nagini likesss ssswimming. Nagini bites at bubbles and they go pop!”*

“Ah, there is my Nagini” said Tom, who had been walking down the landing when Harry stepped out “I’d wondered what had become of her.”

“She said that she’d been told to get me out of bed” said Harry, feeling slightly awkward. The newly named Godric bounced around the older man’s feet, yapping happily. Tom bent and petted the puppy’s silky head.

*“Tom! Nagini is here!”* the green-scaled snake hissed jealously.

*“Hello my little snakelet”* smiled Tom, reaching out to touch her head. Nagini coiled around his wrist and had soon established herself on the purple silk of Tom’s shoulders.

“I guess it wasn’t you who sent her to me?” Harry asked.

“It must have been Severus. He probably wanted to shower in peace.” laughed Tom *“Nagini does tend to hog the bathroom, don’t you my hatchling?”* he continued in parseltongue.

*“Nagini likes to sssswim”* affirmed the snake, blinking her violet eyes.

“Is, ah, Snape here, then?” asked Harry, his heart sinking.

“Yes, Harry.” Tom’s vermillion eyes were sympathetic “It’s difficult, I know, to meet someone in a domestic setting when your past has been… not the easiest.”

“Yeah.” Harry picked up Godric, cuddling the warm, soft body to his chest.

Tom patted him on the back and, with an arm around Harry’s shoulders, started to gently guide him downstairs. “Many years ago, I was feeling just as nervous as you must be. I gather your Mum told you about Eileen and me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Me too, I wouldn’t have given up having Sev for the world but I’d have rather the earlier years of his life had been easier for him and Eileen. Anyway, I was only down in the Seven Broomstick that night because the love of my life had just decided to hook up with my best friend.”

“Oh. I though Cedric beating me to asking Cho to the ball was bad.” Harry said sympathetically.

“It always hurts, whoever they are, however long you’ve known them” replied Tom, with a sad smile. “Anyway. Cappella Malfoy. Ella and I had been in the same year at Hogwarts; she was the most beautiful, compassionate, smart witch I’ve ever known and we were close, closer than most lovers. Anyhow, when I went off on my travels, we stayed in contact via owl.”

“Whilst I was in Japan, I met Abraxus and, well, it was love at first sight. Not that I told him of course; how could a mere mortal expect to win the heart of a being so exquisite?” Tom laughed “Still, nothing ventured is nothing gained: I followed him around like a puppy and Abraxus, being the sweet-natured, open hearted man that he was, grew to love me as a brother. He even accompanied me to Britain when I decided to return and try my hand at being an educator.”

“When I applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I originally didn’t hold out much hope: Dumbledore, who’d taken against me from the very beginning, had succeeded Dippet by then. Anyhow, to my surprise I received an invitation to visit Hogwarts that summer, to discuss the position. Abraxus and I planned to fly over in late June and spend a month taking in the sights and meeting old friends before I had my interview. Cappella, who lived in Hogsmeade, offered us houseroom when I told her I intended to return to the U.K and I gratefully accepted”

“When I introduced Abraxus to Cappella, I knew that they were rather taken with each-other but, both being perfectly well-bred, they restrained their attraction to looks and thoughts whilst I was around. However, when I came back from my disastrous interview with Dumbledore- which was more an interrogation on my activities than anything else- I was doubly disappointed to discover that, whilst I was away, Abraxus had taken Cappella as his mate.”

Walking down the stairs beside Tom, Harry grimaced; that had to burn.

Tom sighed and leant on the end of the balustrade “Not wanting to play gooseberry any longer, I said my goodbyes, apperated to London and got stinking drunk. The next morning, I flew back to Japan without Abraxus and, a year-or-so later, Cappella and Abraxus returned to the Youkai court, baby son in tow. It was tough, being in the same room as the happy family for the first time; letters were difficult enough but the anticipation of seeing them together… However, it wasn’t so hard as I’d thought it would be and, after a few meetings, things became easier, almost normal.” Tom straightened up and, his arm around Harry’s shoulders, started walking towards the kitchen “The best philosophy for life is that, however difficult the situation, it won’t last forever.”

Harry nodded and set the squirming Godric down on the floor. His Mum deserved to be happy and, if that meant Snape, Harry would just have to be the better man. Taking an unobtrusive deep breath, Harry gritted his teeth and stepped into the kitchen.

oOoOo

“Hello Harry, good morning Tom” called Lily, setting her newspaper on the table. “Did you guys sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you Lily” replied Tom, swinging a chair back-to-front and straddling it.

“Fine thanks” said Harry quietly, sending a swift glance towards the Aga, where a slender man was making toast, his face hidden by long dark hair. Harry didn’t know whether it was more of a surprise seeing those iconic, shoulder-length curtains being grease-free or set in the heavy, plump curls of a cavalier.

“Anything good in the paper, Lils?” said Tom, helping himself and Harry to a soft-boiled egg. Harry wondered how mad his friends would think him if he were to confide that 'Voldemort' has egg-cups shaped like chickens.

“Just the usual tat. Something about some dirt-raker called Rita Skeeter being busted by Animagus control.”

Harry laughed in spite of himself. “What?”

“Apparently she was caught at Hogwarts, buzzing around as a beetle. She’d been using her animagus form to spy on people and get scoops.” Lily added.

“The bitch!” Harry exclaimed. “Um, sorry” he continued, reddening under the gaze of his mother and Tom “but that… woman has been dragging my name through the muck all year. And my friends. She wrote really a really horrible article saying that I was a deranged, attention-seeking prat, another revealing poor Hagrid of being a half giant- he locked himself in his cabin for days, he was right upset- and one about my best-friend Hermione: Skeeter made up trash about her cheating on me with Krum. Hermione received bubotuber pus in the Post!”

“Ms Skeeter had the grave misfortune to test the wards on my private chambers” Severus said in a low voice “To her not inconsiderate dismay, she was trapped in a stasis field until I returned.”

Tom snorted, causing Nagini to flick out her little pink tongue in consternation “Good going, Sev. Pity you didn’t meet her as ‘Chartreuse’; she’d have made a nice snack.”

“I expect she would have tasted vile.” Severus walked over, carrying a strange contraption which consisted of two circular, wire grids, hinged at the base, with long loops of metal at the top, so that it could be carried; four, piping-hot slices of toast were sandwiched between the grids. Severus carefully decanted a slice of toast on each of their plates.

“Thanks Sev.”

“Thank you.” Smiled Lily.

“Thanks” muttered Harry, suddenly feeling acutely uncomfortable.

To break the silence, Lily, while spreading her toast with marmalade said “What’s Chartreause?”

Tom grinned “It’s the name of a French Liqueur and a colour midway between yellow and green, as well as being the alias of a particularly cute little Boomslang Animagus.”

“Father!” Severus snapped.

Harry spat out his orange juice. Oh. My. God!

“Huh?” said Lily, looking between Harry, Tom and Severus in consternation.

Tom tapped the sodden tablecloth with his wand, siphoning off the juice. “Severus’s animagus form is a boomslang snake; it’s scales are a beautiful combination of glossy black and chartreause green, hence the nickname.”

“Boomslang skin is used in polyjuice, isn’t it?” said Lily thoughtfully.

“Indeed.” Replied Severus with a smirk “It is a very useful form; relatively inconspicuous, highly venomous, fast and, of course, I have a constant supply of boomslang skins.” Something, Harry knew not what, glittered in his dark eyes as their gazes met.

Harry dropped his head, concentrating on cutting his toast into soldiers. Any minute now, Snape would tell them, in the most humiliating manner possible, about the disappearance of his, literally his, boomslang skin in Harry’s second year. God, if Harry’s known what he’d been drinking..!

Any minute now…

“Incidentally, all is quiet at 4 Privet Drive” Severus said, pouring Lily another cup of coffee.

“Any owls for Harry?” Tom asked.

“No and the Dursleys seem to be keeping to our agreement. Wonders will never cease.” Severus replied quietly.

“Agreement?” asked Harry, curious in spite of himself.

“Oh yes, Lily and I paid your Aunt and Uncle a visit” said Severus, his voice positively arctic, “Albus had misinformed me; he told me that your Aunt had, how shall we say, been somewhat reformed by her deep but sadly unrequited love for one Peter Pettigrew and had practically begged to be allowed to care for you after your Godfather, Peter, died.”

Harry’s eyes widened in amazement “And you believed him?!”

“Love is probably the most powerful force in the world, Harry” Tom said gently “Love can change people drastically; for some, it destroys them, for others, it teaches them to be better human beings. Peter had become somewhat attractive in his early twenties; between sixteen and twenty-one he'd lost weight and gained confidence, meaning that, while not exactly Adonis, he certainly could have caught your Aunt's eye. Additionally, Sev was not to know that Peter had been a double-agent; I told no-one that I was meeting him in secret. It also did not help that Severus moved in very different circles from those of the Potters; only those closest to you knew the identity of your Godfather. ”

“And, moreover, Albus is a very convincing liar.” Said Severus, his dark eyes glinting “Dumbledore told me that you were not only loved but treasured by your Aunt. That Petunia having fallen in love with a wizard, was able to accept magic and, as a consequence, discovered that she did, indeed, love Lily and always had. You, as the child of her sister and godson of her love, were supposedly a sacred relic.”

Harry bit his lip.

“Dumbledore lies, Harry.” Tom said quietly “He lies so often and so well that he, himself, believes them.”

“I called on Petunia first” Severus said “I wanted to break the news to her gently. I was greeted with all the saccharine sweetness, superficiality and lack of integrity of a greetings-card and, when Petunia realised that Lily was alive, she became hysterical. What I gleaned from those hysterics was enough to prompt further investigation.”

“From what Dumbledore had told Sev, I expected a tearful reunion” said Lily “I didn’t realise, though, that those tears would spring from any other emotion except joy.”

“Petunia, Vernon and Dudley swore, under unbreakable vow, that they would not communicate about Lily's return to anyone, they would provide you bed and board without open hostility and that, if you received any owls, they would leave the letters in your wardrobe.” Said Tom.

“What did you do to make them agree to that?” asked Harry, torn between curiosity and dread.

Severus smirked, slicing of the top of his egg with a vicious swipe “I gave Lily twenty minutes alone with them. A pig tail was the least of little ‘Dudders’ worries.”

“Right” said Tom, as he loaded the breakfast plates into the sink “First things first, let’s get that damn Trace off you, Harry.”

“Huh?” Harry responded eloquently.

“The Trace, Harry, will tell the Ministry if anyone around you uses magic. That’s how they catch underage magic use, you see.”

“It’s one of those nasty, discriminatory old laws which the Ministry can, somehow, never find the time or funds to alter.” Lily added wryly “You see, when magic is performed near a kid, it is picked up by their Trace. However, if you're living with a witch or wizard, no one can tell whether it was the child or adult who cast the spell.”

“Indeed” Severus added, folding his arms and leaning against the larder door “Master Malfoy, for example, could be hexing, jinxing, charming and transfiguring every second of the holidays and, as the Office of Underage Magic could not hope to prove that he, as opposed to his parents, had been casting the aforesaid spells, they would not trouble themselves to investigate. However, Ms Grang… Hermione would be investigated if any witch or wizard cast a spell in her vicinity; all her relations are muggles and, therefore, she would immediately be the prime suspect.”

“What!” Harry reddened with indignation “But that’s…”

“Bloody unfair” Tom grinned darkly “I thought so too, being in a muggle orphanage. That’s why I, ah, researched the matter in my spare time. Slughorn, bless him, never realised just how I spent all my ‘work experience’ days at the Ministry.”

“You can lift it?” Harry asked, hope, relief and incredulity combining in his voice.

“Harry, rules are only there so you think before you break them.” Tom made a complicated movement with his wand and Harry felt something change within him.

“Now”, smiled Tom, setting the dishes washing themselves with a flick of his wand, “Let’s start making lunch!”

Harry raised an eyebrow and- all of a sudden- he realised just from whom he’d inherited that expression. It felt kind of weird.

“We’re all potioneers, Harry and good potioneers are invariably good cooks. And it would be a travesty to let all that talent go to waste.” Tom threw a tea-towel over his shoulder and grinned. “We’re making frittata; everyone grab a vegetable and start chopping!”

“Unhand me woman!” gasped Snape as Lily tackled him around the waist.

“Nuh, uh! Tom said I had to chop you up!” Lily grinned cheekily, her holly-green eyes bright.

“Children, please! You’re no longer eleven!” called Tom, who was gathering his mass of dark hair into a ponytail.

“Would a courgette do?” said Harry fishing around in the vegetable basket.

Tom gave him an old fashioned look “Am I supposed to be the ‘good example’?”

“Um…” Harry looked around at his Mum, who was standing behind Snape, who was chopping up onions, doing an impression of his haughty expression whilst giggles wracked her small frame. “I guess?” Harry had expected his Mum to act… well, like a Mum, not a barely older sister. Then again, Lily was, technically, still only twenty-one…

“Yup, courgette, tomatos, chillies, spring onions, mushrooms, peppers, herbs, olives, whatever you enjoy eating. Frittata is good like that; anything goes. As the actress said to the bishop…” He smirked.

Harry stared at Tom’s thin mouth; he’d seen that expression about a thousand times- admittedly on a different face and with eyes as cold and dark as the abyss rather than sparkling with warm humour.

Having been an orphan all his life and tracing the features of the man he knew to be his father, seeing eyes like his in a woman’s face, noting the texture and colour of raven-hair which, but for length, was identical in every way to that on his own head... it felt weird.

Tom waved an elegant hand over Harry’s eyes “Don’t tell me I’ve broken your mind, Harrybo.”

Harry blushed “Sorry, it’s just… strange realising that, well, your mouth is like Snape’s… I’ve never… Petunia and Dudley look nothing like me.”

“That is probably for the best, Harry. Petunia, while not blessed by nature, always did her level best to make herself look as shrewish and unpleasant as possible. It is said that, by the time a man is thirty, he has made his own face and, even at the tender age of eleven, Petunia was glaring and scrunching her mouth so tight it looked like a cat’s rectum.”

Harry laughed “She still does that.”

“Bet the wrinkles are showing now too” smiled Tom, who was briskly slicing mushrooms to paper thinness. "I understand, Harry. It took me quite a while to get used to seeing my feature's in another's face."

Harry returned Tom's smile and started dicing his courgette into tiny cubes. When he’d finished, Harry turned around to grab a couple of chillies.

“These are very evenly diced, Mr… Harry.”

Harry turned to look up into sad, serious dark eyes. “Um, thanks. I used to cook a lot at the Dursleys.”

Snape swallowed “So I have gathered… if you do not wish to cook, however, I, that is to say that no one here would take it amiss if you would prefer to go flying, for example.”

“Er, no. It’s okay. I enjoy cooking too, it’s relaxing.”

“Very well” Snape nodded and, scooping up the courgette, retreated to his frying onions.

Lily, who had been skinning and slicing garlic-cloves, paused to press a kiss on the top of Harry’s head as she passed on her way to the oven. Harry saw his Mum stand on tip-toes and loop her arm around Snape’s hunched shoulders as she dropped her garlic into the pan.

As Harry bent to slice his chillies, an image suddenly jumped into the forefront of his brain; once Dudley and his friends had found a semi-tame rabbit and, being the lovely boys that they were, they had enticed it into captivity and proceeded to ‘play’ with it. By the time they lost interest, the creature was half-insane with pain and terror and, when Harry had tried to help it, the rabbit had almost taken his hand off.

Dumped, his mum had said, with unnecessary cruelty. Snape was heartbroken…

Harry couldn’t help but remember the hatred, distain and contempt in Sirius’s gaze when he looked at Severus that night in the ‘Shrieking Shack’. Or the way Sirius had levitated Severus so that he hit his head on every step. He found himself wondering how Sirius’s expressions had twisted Lily’s face as ‘she’ last looked on Snape.

Unnecessary cruelty…

Harry’s green eyes, almost the same shape and shade as his mothers’, must have resembled Lily’s eyes, as worn by Sirius, in expression every time Harry glared at his most hated teacher.

Heartbroken…

Hunched, broken creature, wild-eyed and spitting in fury, lashing out with all it’s might because it just couldn’t bear to be hurt again.

Broken…

“Owww!” Harry looked down at a deep gash in his finger.

“Harry, oh God, it looks deep!” said Lily, rushing over.

Severus strode over and took hold of Harry’s hand “Evansco” the blood disappeared “Episkey.”

“Um, thanks.” Said Harry, rubbing his hand. “Er, I could have just washed off the blood.”

“Chilli oil in a closed cut is exceptionally painful M… Harry.” Replied Severus, vanishing the ruined chilli and casting a cleaning charm on the bloodied chopping board.

“Oh,” Harry flushed, why hadn’t he thought of that? “Thanks.”

Tom patted him on the back “You know, it’s not mandatory to eat human flesh if you’re a dark wizard, Harry” he said with a wink.

oOoOo

The Wytchfeld Woods were, Harry thought, the perfect place to picnic. Provided you didn’t believe in the Jabberwocky. If you did, you’d expect him to be lurking within the towering, viridian spires of every yew-tree, behind every sprawling, knobbly, ancient oak, amid every thicket of hemlock umbels, whose creamy foam of tiny flowers nodded in the breeze.

Godric, however, was as fearless as his namesake and tore around the mossy forest floor yapping at birds, snuffling at flowers and, rather unromantically, spraying urine over everything.

Harry hoped that they’d manage to lay the picnic rug before the daft pup managed to scent-mark every inch of the place.

“Godric!” Harry moaned, as the puppy surged forward, dragging the teenage boy by Godric’s new, red leather lead, “Don’t pull!”

“You named him Harry!” called out Tom, who was carrying the picnic basket. It was such a lovely day, he’d decided that they should eat lunch outside. After all, as Tom’s house, the Wren’s Nest, was surrounded by the Wytchfeld woods, a country walk could simply mean stepping outside the front door.

“Godric by name, Godric by nature” chortled Lily, who was clunking along with a couple of bottles of fizzy pumpkinade in a hemp bag.

Godric, hearing his name, looked up and raced towards Lily, dragging Harry with him.

“Hello handsome one” Lily cooed, ruffling the puppy’s golden mane.

“Isn’t there a spell or something?” Harry moaned, rubbing his arm.

“For stopping a dog pulling? In fact there are two” Smirked Tom “The incantation for the first is ‘heel’ and one must stand absolutely still until it works and, only then, move off, repeating the charm whenever symptoms reoccur.”

“The second spell takes, oh, eight years or so to come into effect” continued Snape “One simply has to say ‘oh I wish this dog would stop pulling’ and wait.”

“Hey, don’t gang up on a helpless cub, you nasty old Serpents” called Lily

“Well excuse me, princess, but he was talking about hexing a puppy” Tom retorted cheerfully.

Harry chuckled, only Tom would spend the first week of his reincarnation watching CITV.

“Hey, Sev” said Lily “Sing us your woodland song!”

Severus flushed and looked away “It has been many years since I last sung anything, Lily” he said in a low, solemn voice. “I am not sure how much of the ‘Lay of Luthien’ I can remember.”

“But you used to sing all the time.” Lily replied, bemused.

Harry looked at his mother, emerald green eyes widening in surprise; Snape had never struck him as a musical guy. He was too reserved, for one thing, and Snape's voice was sharp, brittle, more suited to slinging spiteful insults than soothing songs.

Though, there had been less spurs this last week and, today, Snape had been practically civil.

“The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering”

Harry listened, enthralled, as Severus’s soft baritone wove the words of Tolkien into the melody of Greensleeves. Harry realised that, since his first period of Potions, he had never really listened to Snape. Not really. Harry’d just used the time Snape was talking to think of his next retort.

This morning, Harry would have struggled to come up with one positive attribute for the man and it definitely wouldn’t be his voice.

While love, once created, self-perpetuates, it is not a product of self-generation: love must have something to grow upon, be it esteem, gratitude, empathy or desire. Similarly, one cannot truly forgive without, first, finding some extenuation for the offence: when pity takes root, absolution is often the fruit.

As Harry listened to the tale of lonely Beren, who had deeply loved and tragically lost his Luthien, only to find her again after years of sorrow, he pitied Snape. Yes, the man had been an arsehole, yes, Snape was old enough to know better, yes, his past wasn’t justification for how he’d treated Harry.

But, no, Snape hadn’t deserved what Sirius, James and Dumbledore had done to him.

oOoOo

Therefore, when Harry sat down at the adjoining side of the picnic rug to Snape, it was with gentler feelings towards the man than he had previously inspired; the sharpness of resentment had blunted, slightly, and civility was not as herculean a feat as it had seemed this morning.

Tom, who had been attaching Godric’s lead to a stake, sat down gracefully on Harry’s other side and started un-shrinking the plates, whilst Lily unwrapped packages of steaming hot frittata and crispy roast potatoes while Snape poured vinaigrette over the salad. Harry, whose apatite had been sharpened by the exercise, found his mouth watering “This has to be the best picnic ever” he said to his mum, grinning.

“I have too many memories of soggy sandwiches eaten on windy beaches by gloomy children to enjoy standard picnic food.” said Tom, handing out the knives and forks

Harry nodded; on primary-school trips, limp bread with the thinnest scraping of jam had been his usual fare.

“Tom does make the best picnic food” Lily said brightly, trying to dispel the sudden gloom “In the cold months its stuff like hot soup, pasties and half-shell potatoes and, in summer, its light, fresh-tasting things like pizza, paella, frittata, etc”

“Half-shell potatoes?” asked Harry, taking a glass of pumpkinade from Snape “Thank you, Sir.” Severus smiled tightly, averting his eyes.

“You take a baked potato, cut off the very top, like you would a boiled egg, scoop out the insides, mash them with butter, salt and pepper and re-stuff the potato” said Lily, casually putting her hand over Snape's.

“It’s rather like taxidermy” smirked Tom.

“Father! We are about to eat!” growled Severus.

“If you eat meat, a conversation about taxidermy shouldn’t put you off your food” sniffed Tom.

“Are you vegetarian?” asked Harry

“In the Youkai court, one learns to do without.” Tom smiled “They tend to prefer serving vegetarian dishes, it avoids diplomatic incidents. Just as most humans eschew eating monkeys, a bovine youkai would not eat cow, an avian youki would not devour fowl, etc. There’s a youkai evolved from practically every genus and the Court have not eaten humans for quite a few millennia.”

“They ate humans?” Harry gasped, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clang.

“Humans eat pigs.” Replied Tom, matter-of-factly.

“Please don’t start him off” groaned Snape.

“B…but that’s different!”

“How so?”

“Well, we’re intelligent”

“Here we go” sighed Lily.

“The differential between the average human and the average Taiyoukai is the same as the average human and the average pig.”

“But pigs are animals!” spluttered Harry.

“So are we!”

It was probably best that Severus chose that moment to banish a couple of large chunks of frittata into Harry and Tom’s mouths.

oOoOo

Harry lay on the picnic rug, munching salty potatoes and watching Tom half-chase, half-duel Severus around the clearing, whilst Lily, sitting beside Harry, cat-called in the support of one or the other, depending on who was doing the funniest, cleverest or most sneaky spell at the current moment.

Perhaps this family thing was worth a try after all.

Shrugging into clean, cool linen robes the colour of young beech leaves, Harry wandered downstairs, into the kitchen; Severus and Tom were sitting at the table, surrounded by jars of what looked like potions ingredients.

“Ah, Harry. Just the boy we wanted to see” Tom exclaimed cheerfully “I need some of your blood for the wards and, as you conveniently cut yourself earlier today, I was hoping that you would permit me to use it?”

Harry grinned “Sure. It’s not like I was going to put it back or anything.”

“Harry, if you would like to observe the ritual, you would be most welcome to join us” Severus said quietly, staring intently at a jar of blue-green powder.

“Um, okay.” Harry pulled up a chair and sat down between the two men. Blood magic had always struck him as an interesting, mysterious but slightly creepy aspect of the Wizarding world. Even the most benign branches were not taught at Hogwarts and Harry had to stifle a chuckle when he considered just how envious Hermione would be, if she could see him now.

“Right, well, this spell is ancient; I learnt it from a kind old Hoshi, that’s a Japanese Priest, and he swore to me that no one, in the history of ever, had managed to set foot inside a building protected by this” Tom explained casually. “All spells will bounce right off and even crude weapons like spears, dynamite and firearms couldn’t so much as tear the lace curtain of an open window. The only way someone can enter is if the creator, that’s me, consents or their blood has been added to the potion.”

“Sounds powerful.” Harry commented, raising his dark eyebrows.

“It is” Severus replied “The ingredients are rowan bark, powdered chrysoprase, carnation petals, camphor balm, borage seed, bergamot oil, penny royal leaves, crushed jade, coriander seed, heather root, marjoram oil, powdered snakeroot, motherwort pollen, flaked snakeskin agate and, of course, elderflowers and salt.”

“All of which are components of some of the most powerful protection potions known to Wizardry” Tom added, as Lily walked in, holding a large, golden cauldron.

“Wow… is that…?” Harry gasped, his green eyes wide.

“Solid gold, so no melting it, Harry” Tom said, a mischievous glint in his carnelian eyes.

“Harry has not melted any cauldrons thus far” Severus said suddenly. “That is the preserve of Longbottom.”

Harry blinked, his face a picture of incredulity: Snape had actually defended him!

“Well said, Sev!” Lily grinned, clunking the heavy pot on the Aga hotplate.

“I thought you needed to use a fire?” Harry said cautiously. “I mean, so you can adjust the temperature and stuff.”

“With many potions this is the case.” Severus replied softly, binding his black hair into a long ponytail. “However, this particular potion is not, in actuality a potion; it is merely a paste intended to be painted along a boundary, rather than medicine and, therefore, merely mixing the ingredients is sufficient.”

As Tom poured the vials of oil into the cauldron, Lily started slicing the root into centimetre long strips and Severus mashed the borage seed in a mortar. Harry sat down beside his mother.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so, Harry” Lily replied “It’s quite a simple potion and not many ingredients…”

“The pennyroyal leaves should be bruised for maximum effect.” Severus interrupted, his dark eyes intent on his pestle and mortar. Lily rolled her holy-green eyes, a half-fond, half-exasperated smile tugging at her lips.

“Um, thanks” Harry replied, grabbing a handful of leaves, crushing them between his palms. As the strong, minty smell filled the room, Harry watched Tom sliding around the tiled kitchen floor on his socks, grabbing camphor balm, a box of salt and a large handful of elderflowers.

“We heat up the oils and balm first, Harry, to form a nice, liquid base, then we add salt and fry off the elderflowers, allowing them to leech a bit of their oil into the mixture and vice versa.” Tom explained as he sailed past. “Have you finished with those leaves?”

“Yeah.”

“And the heather root is ready” Lily added.

“Wet ingredients next, roots, petals and leaves, then we’ll add the rowan bark and borage seed, then the powdered ingredients.”

Harry nodded, savouring the myriad of sweet and spicy scents wafting in the air. As he watched his family- it still felt really odd to think of them as that but there was no other word as fitting- at work, a thought occurred to the teenager.

“Have you made this potion before?”

“Yes, Harry.” Tom replied, happily tipping a bowl of stone chippings into the pot “Although its effects are supposed to last indefinitely, I make it every year.”

“Although this year we’ve made it twice” Lily added, brushing a lock of mahogany hair from her forehead. “We need to add you to the wards.”

A strange, sharp tenderness unfurled in Harry’s chest: they were doing this for him, to ensure that he could always enter this house. The Dursleys had never even given Harry so much as a key to the front door; if he returned whilst they were out, which happened more often than was strictly coincidental, Harry’s only options would be to a. go on a long walk or b. if it was raining or blisteringly hot, to climb over the fence and take shelter in the garden shed.

Given that his adoptive family changed the locks every six or so months, given Dudley’s propensity for losing things, Vernon’s order of four keys, one for himself, his wife and his son, with the last key reserved for Marge, his sister, had always symbolised, to Harry, his status as an unwelcome, unwanted orphan.

This house, however, was more than a mere shelter from the elements; given what Tom and Aberforth had said, it was a fortress and Tom was including Harry in the wards, meaning he could come and go as he wished.

No longer unwelcome, no longer unwanted, no longer an orphan.

oOoOo

As Tom, knelt in the tawny sunset, carefully painting the beautiful, green potion around the exterior of his sprawling, blue-stone house, Harry, who was holding the cauldron, asked “I was wondering… you mentioned pack instinct..?”

Tom smiled, looking up at Harry with those bright, ruby eyes which Harry could never quite get used to seeing; red eyes should be eerie, if not scary, but Tom’s weren’t, somehow. Perhaps it was his fine bone-structure, the high-cheekbones and elegant, almost serpentine jaw, maybe it was the mischievous yet benevolent expression which danced in those carnelian irises. Tom snapped his fingers under Harry’s nose and the teenage boy, flushing, realised that he’d been staring.

“Sorry.” Harry stammered.

“No problem, it’s actually part of ‘pack instinct’,” Tom replied with a grin. “Though, strictly speaking, the collective noun for snakes is ‘slither’ but, if one says ‘slither instinct’, it sounds a little weird at best, kinky at worst.”

Harry laughed, then asked “How’s it part of pack instinct, though?”

“You’re imprinting me.” Tom replied, re-dipping the paintbrush to slather another layer of potion on the craggy blue-grey stones. “If you were an infant, you’d spend your entire day staring at me, your mother and father because recognising our faces could mean the difference between life and death if the nest was overrun. Knowing whom to hide behind and who to fight off is an exceptionally important survival trait…”

“How could a kid fight off an adult?” Harry asked, brushing his messy raven hair out of his eyes.

“Well, a human kid couldn’t but a pureblood youkai would have tiny, poisonous claws and fangs. Okay, against one of their own species, the baby might not have much chance, but, if their attacker was a lower youkai or a human, the baby could ensure it’s survival for the crucial seconds it takes their relatives to leap over and tear the intruder to shreds.” Tom grinned “You may not have claws and fangs but that instinct, to know your family, was bred to perfection through natural selection.”

“Natural selection?”

Tom shook his head “They should make Muggle Studies compulsory; natural selection is where you have, say, a group of babies; those babies who recognise their species survive attacks on their nest, those who don’t die. Now, say those babies grow up and make more babies; in this group, some babies have even greater powers of observation, they recognise their sub-species; those babies are more likely to survive and breed. Some babies in the next generation recognise their family traits, say red eyes and black hair; those babies will be most likely to survive. And so on. Do you get me?”

“Yeah, sounds rather brutal, though” Harry said, his mouth twisting.

“Nature is brutal.” Tom replied shortly. “Now, another prominent instinct, which tends to survive through generations of diluted blood, is the desire for a close-knit family. In nests, snake youkai spend their lives comfortably squashed together; they might leave every now and again to hunt but if you put a snake youkai in an empty nest they’ll stay awake all night, jumping at shadows.” Tom sighed, his joy de vivre draining away. “It was bloody tough at that orphanage; all the other kids were frightened of me, an instinctive reaction against a powerful predator, I guess. Humans have always been afraid of snakes and that fear is cubed when it’s a serpent youkai. Even though they didn’t know what I was, they felt it.” Tom shuffled along on his knees and slapped another layer of potion on the exterior wall.

“So, not only was I unable to even form friendships, they kept me in a separate room. I pined away for most of my early years, longing for warmth and lying awake long into the night. As I grew up, my sadness hardened into a resentful self-sufficiency. No one wanted me, I didn’t need anyone.”

“I understand” Harry said quietly, thinking on all those lonely days of his childhood, where his sadnesses remained uncomforted, while pain was caused with deliberate precision, when his attempts at friendship were rebuffed by children who believed Dudley’s lies. The nights spent tearfully hugging at his limp, sparse pillow, pretending it was the arms of someone who cared.

“I know you do, Harry.” Tom replied. “It’s a triumph in itself that your early childhood hasn’t embittered you, that you’re still a relatively open and loving kid. I didn’t come through so well.” Tom sighed, sitting back and resting the paintbrush against the wall. “It took me a couple of years in the youkai court, being coddled and scolded out of my pique, before I got to the place you are now.”

Harry paused, half-afraid to ask the questions that, like ugly, aquatic monsters, had surfaced in his mind throughout the last few days. A tiny, treacherous part of his heart told him that this was all an illusion, that it was too good to be true but Harry knew that, even if it was an elaborate act, he’d prefer to remain happily ignorant rather than return to his lonely life. So, every time these questions were on the tip of his tongue, the tousle-haired teen hesitated, swallowed his queries; if Tom gave the wrong answers, the price of appeasing his curiosity would be too high.

“You’re wondering what I was like as a kid, aren’t you?” Tom smiled, smearing more of the potion around the front porch. “Look, we’ll be done in a moment, then we can go inside, put the kettle on and I’ll tell you about my wonderful childhood.”

oOoOo

“Now, as I’ve said, by the time I’d reached eleven I was an odd little thing; proud and aloof as any lord, reserved to the point of secrecy and, if not actually cold, then at least chilly. Having been left pretty much to fend for myself, I wasn’t in the habit of giving or receiving comfort and, well, let’s just say I had a finely tuned sense of ‘justice’. If someone hurt me, I’d get my weregild by hook or by crook.”

“Weregild?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his honey banana milkshake.

“Blood money. If someone hurt me, I’d nick something of theirs. As I grew older, the ‘punishments’ grew a bit more extreme; the summer before the one I left for Hogwarts, I imprisoned a couple of kids in an underground cavern; they’d stolen my Mum’s ring and I wanted to know what they’d done with it. It was only a cheap trinket, a thin, silver snake ring with tiny chips of garnet for eyes, but the only thing I had left of her.”

“Did you get it back?” Harry asked, his green eyes sympathetic.

“No” Tom replied sadly “They sold it to a pedlar. Even though they, eventually, gave me the money to buy it back, I was never able to track the guy down.”

“I think I might have done the same.” Harry replied “That was well mean of them.”

“Times were hard, Harry. We were all hungry, ragged and miserable. For some kids, thieving was the only way to get out of the slums; they needed the cash to start a decent career.”

Tom reached down and stroked Godric’s golden furred head, which the pup had placed on his feet after hearing the melancholy tone in his voice.

“Anyhow, one day, out of the blue, I was visited by this man, Professor Dumbledore. At first, I thought he was from the asylum” Tom said, his mouth quirking into a rueful grin. “Some doctors are Professors and the way he dressed, in his bright jolly colours… Anyway, let’s just say we got off on the wrong foot. He’d just had poison poured into his ear by the matron, who was a vicious old bitch, let me tell you, and I was as nervous as a cat: the other kids always jeered that someday someone would come to take me away.”

“They said the same about me” Harry muttered. “That I was a delinquent. My Aunt told everyone that I went to ‘St Brutus’ Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys’ and all the neighbours used to whisper about it, that I should be locked up during the summer for their own safety. It was dead annoying.”

“When all this is over, Petunia will get what she deserves, believe me.” Tom replied quietly. “Anyway, I was in no way prepared to believe Dumbledore, I thought it was an elaborate hoax intended to convince me into admitting that I could perform magic. I’d always known it but… well, I often wondered whether it was all a hallucination, whether I really was as mad as everyone said.”

Tom sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I told Dumbledore to prove himself and he did. By setting my wardrobe and, thus, all my worldly possessions, on fire. I was so distressed that, when he found my collection of ‘weregild’, I couldn’t find the words to explain. Although” Tom added running a finger over his thin lips “I doubt he would have understood. People from families never understand, they don’t know what it’s like to fight for even the right to exist.”

Harry’s brows knotted “Why did he set it on fire? Couldn’t he, um, have changed your lamp into a cat or something?”

“I have no idea.” Tom sighed “I expect he wanted to shake me up a little, show me my place. Anyhow, by the time he’d got around to asking me if I’d like him to accompany me to Diagon Alley, I’d had more than enough of him and I think the feeling was mutual. Besides, I was used to doing things for myself; I knew how to handle money, how to barter and get the best deals.”

Tom smiled “Given the cut of Dumbledore’s coat, I thought he’d probably leave a tip!”

Harry laughed, despite himself, “Sorry.”

“No problem. Well, on September 1st, I was probably the happiest, not to mention the most nervous, boy in London; by doing odd jobs, I’d managed to supplement the rather meagre ‘Orphan’s Allowance’ enough to enable me to afford my third-hand textbooks, some second-hand robes and a brand new ‘Ollivander’ wand. I spent my last four knuts on a couple of battered books on Wizarding etiquette and culture, which I studied religiously throughout the summer.”

“Anyhow, when I arrived at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat took one look at me and threw me into Slytherin” Tom smiled. “At first I was daunted; Slytherins tend to be old money purebloods, you know, the type who have always been in Slyth, or aspirational halfbloods who want, one day, to be the ancestors of old money purebloods.” Tom laughed, “So there I was, a poor orphan in tatty robes amid these well-groomed, beautifully dressed children.”

Harry winced in sympathy “When my aunt thought I was going to Stonewall High, she dyed some of Dudley’s old school things, I thought I’d start school wearing something that looked like elephant skin.”

“Not fun” Tom agreed. “Well, it turned out quite differently from how I’d expected. Amongst wizards, my relatively high concentration of youkai blood wasn’t felt to be all that threatening; almost every wizard has at least one youkai in their bloodline, albeit only as a very distant ancestor. At Hogwarts, I was amongst my own kind, I was one of them.”

Tom relaxed back in his chair, playing with a lock of jet black hair “The second thing that helped was my appearance. Ever heard the fairytale ‘The Princess and the Pea”?”

“Yeah?” Harry replied.

“Well,” Tom said, flashing a grin “People love fairy-stories, so much so that, if it looks like a one is in the offing, they will help it along a little. A handsome tramp may well be an impoverished prince and, if they just give him the chance… Anyway, most of the kids treated me with respect, even interest and I, of course, wasn’t going to waste this opportunity; I played the part of an impoverished noble to perfection. Then it was discovered that the ‘charming Tom Riddle’ was a powerful wizard, ‘talented in all his classes’ yada, yada, yada.”

The carnelian eyed Wizard sighed “Everyone was convinced that I was the scion of some great Wizarding family, even Slughorn, the Head of Slytherin. Or, rather, especially Slughorn; the man was a talent spotter and he puffed up my self-importance phenomenally. Only Dumbledore disliked me but, as the feeling was more than mutual, I ignored his disapprobation. Thus, I became arrogant, thinking very well of myself and somewhat meanly of others.”

Tom ran a finger around the rim of his teacup “Had it not been for two things, I may well have become the man Dumbledore believed I was. My first saving grace was my friendship with Cappella Malfoy, a girl in my year. Cappella was absolutely pure, a clever, candid girl with a compassionate, generous heart. Whenever I despaired of humankind, believing the whole world corrupt, I just had to think of her. She was living proof that there was hope.”

“The second saving grace was merely a very fine sliver lining on the darkest of clouds.” Tom’s mouth twisted “I discovered that I was Slytherin’s heir by the end of my First Year and was having nice, long conversations with the Basilisk by the spring-term of my Fifth Year. He was a beautiful creature, inky black with sapphire bands…”

“Sapphire?” Harry interrupted. “The basilisk I saw was black!”

Tom shook his head “Harry, Severus has told me all about your second year and there’s enough bullshit there to manure an orchard. I’ve never written in a diary in my life, I wouldn’t want someone else reading my thoughts now, let alone then.”

“But… the diary didn’t have words as such. It was empty but, if you wrote in it, it wrote back. Like talking to someone on the phone.”

“That sounds like an artist’s charm” Tom replied, his dark eyebrow’s rising. “Portraits, especially self-portraits, can be spelled to retain a little of the subject’s personality, enough to create the illusion that one is talking to a real person. However, I did not make that diary and, moreover, I locked off the bathroom entrance to the Chamber when I returned from Japan. Even Dumbledore could not unseal the charm I put on that sink.”

“What actually happened, though?” Harry asked, his brows knotting “I mean, I know Hagrid was falsely accused…”

“The basilisk and I had become great friends over the months. He knew much of my family history and, as we talked, the languor of his long years spent in the Chamber melted away. He was keen to see Hogwarts again, to feel the breeze on his scales, to hunt a deer or two.” Tom sighed “Innocent enough desires.”

“I was young, arrogant and reckless; I truly couldn’t see how busting out Salazar Slytherin’s siege weapon could possibly go wrong. So, like Puff the Magic Dragon and Jack, we went on a couple of jaunts, me sitting on his smooth back as he slithered through the deserted midnight hallways. It was great fun, the speed, the danger, the deliciously dark glamour of it all. At the time, I saw myself as the Black Prince of Slytherin, on his dread steed. It really shows how innocent I was; I was a brazen, ignorant boy playing around with a creature whose power was way above my own. Basilisks can kill entire armies in a tenth of a second, which is why Slytherin hatched one; a thousand years ago, it wasn’t unknown for muggles to threaten and bribe muggleborn wizards and witches into leading them to wizarding settlements.”

“Come on, muggles aren’t that dangerous!” Harry exclaimed. “Magic will always beat swords.”

Tom shot Harry a grin “One on one, the wizard will always win, in a melee situation, however, a wizard is at a disadvantage; almost all killing spells can only be cast on one individual at a time. And, as the muggle population has always been greater, battles tend to be of the ten against one variety, so it’s only a matter of time before the wizards’ wands get broken or dropped.”

“But, we’re digressing.” Tom said, in the tone of one who’d rather finish something painful sooner than later. “One night a little girl, Myrtle, had broken curfew; her dorm-mates were teasing her about her glasses and she wanted to get away from them. I guess she thought that the second-floor girls loo, being so distant from all of the House dorms, would ensure her privacy.”

“I entered the lavatory and, not realising that anyone else was present, called the basilisk. Then, before I knew what was happening, Myrtle had burst through the cubical door, caught sight of his eyes and fallen down dead” Tom sighed. “After resealing the basilisk, I ran to tell Slughorn, my Head of House.”

“You handed yourself in?” Harry asked, shocked.

“Yup and Slughorn told me to go back to bed and say nothing to anyone” Tom replied. “At that time I was Slytherin’s brightest star, pegged by Slughorn for an illustrious career in the Ministry. However, Slughorn was and, as far as I know, still is a self-serving man, one who enjoys being at the centre of a circle of powerful people, both for the prestige and the privileges. My Head of House was counting on me becoming Minister and, if that meant pushing a corpse under the carpet, so be it.” Tom said bitterly.

“Of course, Myrtle was discovered the next morning and the hunt started for her killer. I think someone, probably Dumbledore, started getting close because, soon afterwards, Slughorn called me to his office. He told me that a younger student, Rubeus Hagrid, was keeping an acromantula as a pet. Slughorn told me that acromantula are classified as pentuple X, known wizard killers, and raising one at Hogwarts would definitely constitute an expulsionable offence. Slughorn gave me a choice; either I handed myself in for Myrtle’s death and he busted Hagrid or I allowed Hagrid to take the blame for both, the killing and the acromantula. Either way, Hagrid would be expelled.”

“I wasn’t happy about this; I didn’t want to be expelled, of course not, but it felt wrong letting the poor kid take the blame for my own recklessness. However, eventually Slughorn wore me down. His arguments were brutal and to the point; firstly, he said, it was merely by the grace of the gods that Hagrid’s pet hadn’t killed anyone yet, secondly, Hagrid was bound to be expelled sooner or later, he’d been busted with a number of dangerous creatures in the past and, well, his pets were definitely becoming deadlier. Thirdly” Tom sighed “Slughorn told me that, if I went back to the muggle world now, I’d have no education and, therefore, instead of a glittering career at the Ministry, in which I could do much to help wizardkind, I’d be stuck in a backbreaking, soul-destroying menial job. If, of course, I wasn’t conscripted into the army and sent off to die.”

“The long and short of it is that I caved in” Tom admitted wretchedly “I helped Slughorn in his plan to capture and kill the acromantula, on the basis that it was a wild creature, introduced into the castle by accident. However, the plan went awry; Hagrid caught us at it, threw himself in the way of my curse and the spider scarpered. All the noise attracted quite a crowd and, before I knew what was happening, Hagrid had been thrown out. Of course, Dumbledore suspected the truth and, if it were possible, he hated me even more.”

“Wow” Harry murmured.

“Yes, I know. I’m not proud of it” Tom replied “I was reckless and I let someone else take the rap.”

Harry folded his arms and lent back in his chair “I kind of understand the logic, though. I mean, if Hagrid was going to get expelled anyway, it makes a sort of sense, though I don’t know whether I could have done it.”

“I know. It was the reason I decided not to go into the Ministry, not that I let onto Slughorn of course. I had discovered the dangers of arrogance and, with one death already to my name, I decided that I didn’t want power. I had hoped to become a teacher and, when that fell through, I got a shop-job and spent my weekends and evenings developing my artistic skills. To say that Slughorn was disappointed would be an understatement.”

“He didn’t tell, then?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, to do so would have been to implicate himself” Tom replied, shaking his head. “Revenge wasn’t worth it. Besides, he probably didn’t want to be premature; I could still make something of myself, later on.”

“He sounds a right bastard” Harry grumbled. “It’s good to know your side of things, though. I mean, I still feel bad for Hagrid but I think most people would have done the same. It’s not as if you could’ve got him off the hook.”

There was a creak as the front door opened and closed. “Ooops. Looks like Lily and Sev are back with supper. You grab the tablemats and cutlery, I’ll grab the plates and glasses!”

As Harry dashed around the kitchen, helping Tom to lay the table, he realised that a weight had dissolved from his chest. Myrtle’s death and Hagrid’s expulsion had definitely been some of the darkest, most inexplicable and unforgivable charges laid at Tom’s door but, now, the teenager could see them in a less damning light.

How different, really, was Tom’s opening of the Chamber to Sirius and James taking the transformed Lupin for a run? Myrtle’s death was merely a wretched accident and, as uncomfortable as the thought made Harry, Hagrid had brought his expulsion upon himself, in a way. It wouldn’t have happened if he’d stuck to owls or even Occamies.

All in all, Tom was, if not blameless, then no more blameworthy than, say, Remus Lupin and, Harry thought, as he tucked into steaming hot fish, crisp chips and fresh bread and butter, that was good enough to maintain the dream, if, indeed, it was a dream, of being a loved and wanted member of a happy, albiet disfunctional family.

Looking around the table, at Lily munching a chip and tomato-sauce sandwich, Tom feeding Godric the batter off his fish and Snape patiently explaining why that was not a good idea, Harry smiled to himself. It didn't seem that ignorance was bliss after all.

As Harry’s somnolent mind drifted towards consciousness, the delicious scents of bacon and fried bread wafted through his open bedroom door and hung tantalisingly in the bright, morning air.

Harry’s first, happy thought, which sprung into the teenager’s mind before he had even fully awakened, was that it made a nice change to have someone cooking for breakfast for him.

Deciding that today was definitely a dressing gown day, Harry wandered over to his new wardrobe; yesterday, half asleep, he’d decided to hang up the least-worst of Dudley’s castoffs in what he assumed was an empty cupboard. Much to Harry’s surprise, he’d opened the doors to find the wardrobe practically bursting with brand new, expensive-looking clothes. The mahogany centre column was comprised of three square shelves, each packed with piles of crisply folded tee-shirts, jumpers or jeans, and a set of shallow draws underneath. On either side of this column, were rails; the left rail held beautiful, silk wizarding robes in shades of aubergine, navy and bottle green, the right an assortment of shirts and trousers. Awestruck, Harry had opened the draws, finding, within their burgundy velvet lined depths, socks, underpants, pyjamas, swimwear and, in the final, deepest draw, sparkling new trainers and a stout pair of military style boots.

Straightening up Harry had noticed, in the corner of his eye, a note, pinned to one, burgundy velvet lined, wardrobe door:

“Shopped till we dropped; never let Tom lure you into Selfridges, you may not escape!”

Overwhelmed, the teenager had traced the tiny drawing of an Arum lily and, staggered off to bed. However, Harry had, subconsciously, noticed the long, light yet snug looking dressing-gown of absinthe green linen hanging amongst the shirts and trousers. Shrugging off the ancient tee-shirt in which he usually slept, Harry slipped into the soft garment and knotted the curiously thick belt haphazardly.

When he traipsed downstairs, however, Harry entered the airy kitchen to find Tom leaning against the Aga and happy munching a bowl of porridge, whilst the meat and bread sizzled in the pan. And, sitting at the table, looking totally at home, with his own bowl of oats, was none other than Lucius Malfoy.

Green met silver but, before Harry could speak, Lucius’s eyes had panned down his chest and locked onto the knotted belt. A sound somewhere between a gasp and choke erupted in the blond man’s throat, and Harry looked on in bewilderment as Tom briskly thumped Lucius’ back, as he coughed and laughed, tears streaming from his amused silver eyes.

“Wha..?”

“Swallow first, then laugh, Luc.” Tom sighed, pulling the curtain of blond locks away from the still laughing man’s face. “I’m afraid Lucius mien often gives the false impression that he is frightfully sophisticated, Harry. However, as you can see, nothing could be further from the truth.”

“What’s so funny, though?” Harry asked, his sable eyebrows knotting. Tom straightened up, his ruby eyes glittering, and wandered over to the Aga, where he broke a couple of eggs into the pan.

His back toward Harry, Tom replied in a level voice “You’re wearing a kimono, Harry. I expect you thought it was a dressing gown?”

“Yeah?” Harry replied, his face a picture of confusion.

“Well, um, you see, there’re certain traditions” Tom paused, his breathing sharp and shallow. “The only occasion when the kimono is worn with the right side of the material on top of the left is when the person inside said kimono is a corpse.”

“Oh!” Harry replied, a flush burning across his cheeks.

“And the obi, that’s the belt, is also tied somewhat unconventionally.” Tom added “Don’t worry though, it’s not something the average English schoolboy would know. Incidentally, Lucius once came to breakfast in a cerise furisode, that’s a girl’s kimono, which a servant had accidentally left in his wardrobe. He looked very pretty.”

Lucius glared at the grinning, dark-haired patriarch “I was six!”

Tom shrugged and decanted bacon, eggs and fried bread onto a plate and placed it on the table. “Come and eat your breakfast, vampire boy.”

Smiling slightly uncertainly, Harry approached the table and sat down on the adjacent corner from Lucius, who was stirring brown sugar into his porridge.

Nibbling on a piece of bacon, Harry looked over at Lucius, who was as icily composed as ever, and then at Tom, who had sat down in the chair opposite to the teenager.

Clearing his throat, Harry spoke “Er, are Mum and, uh, Snape up yet?” “Come and gone, Harry” Tom replied airily. “It’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Sorry” Harry muttered uncomfortably.

“No problem, I prefer getting up lateish myself.” Tom replied calmly “In fact, the only reason I’m up is because Sev woke me to say that they were off to the market. They probably thought they’d be back by now.”

“Probably buying chickens or some such” Lucius smirked.

Tom sighed and threw his waterfall of raven hair back, so it skimmed the seat of his chair “Please, God, no bloody chickens.”

“What’s wrong with chickens?” Harry asked, slightly amused. “Mrs Weasley has them.”

Tom straightened up from his comically prostrate position “Lily tends to make pets of them and Severus, bless him, has a soft spot for hens.”

Noticing that Harry green eyes had widened to the width of saucers, Tom added “He thinks they’re funny.”

“Chicken droppings all over the floor and feathers everywhere.” Lucius elaborated. “And they learnt to open the larder. I’ve never seen chickens so spherical in my life.”

“At least they kept the wood-mice down.”

“Mice?” Harry asked, confused.

“Chickens hunt, Harry. The true descendant of dinosaurs!” Shaking his tousled, raven head at the strangeness of the world, Harry glopped his fried bread in the yolk of his egg. For a non-meat-eater, Tom certainly knew how to do a fry up.

“Are many people vegetarian in the wizarding world?” Harry asked, to break the slightly uncomfortable silence that had fallen between the three mages.

“Very few” Lucius replied. “The only families which are, habitually, vegetarian are those who have descended almost exclusively from herbivorous youkai.”

“Like horses?” Harry asked, a thought flitting into his brain.

“Indeed.” Lucius said, smirking at the teen's embarrassed flush. “I eat grains, vegetables and dairy products but I have to be careful with fruit and I’m not fond of eggs unless they’re used in baking.”

“And, of course, sugar lumps” Tom added, a mischievous grin quirking at the corner of his mouth as he sipped his orange juice.

Silver eyes disapproving, Lucius snorted, and looked away haughtily.

Harry sighed. Everything was so confusing at the moment. Since his first encounter with the icy, sophisticated and downright dangerous Mr Malfoy, Harry had regarded him with something akin to awe. Sure, he was never one not to tweak the tigers’ tail if necessary but he’d always understood that, in the grand scheme of things, the man was definitely a tiger.

Now, however, it was quite frankly odd to see this other, more human side of him. To realise that under all that controlled arrogance and cold beauty, he was just a man. Albeit one with some rather equine traits, now that Harry came to think about it.

While Tom and Lucius appeared content to allow silence to settle, Harry started feeling uncomfortable.

“Youkai are, like, magical beings?” he started. “Do the ministry, er, allow them to carry wands?”

Lucius smirked, revealing a flash of white teeth “Wands are useless to true youkai; they can channel their powers directly.”

“You mean, like wandless magic?” Harry asked, his bushy black eyebrows hitting his messy hairline.

“Yes, almost all non-human magical creatures are able to access their magic without conducts such as wands.” Tom replied, twirling a strand of sable hair around his fingers. “The Ministry passed the Wand regulations out of pure sour grapes or, possibly, fear. House-elves have been known to kill people who have attacked their wizards or witches through pure, natural magic.”

“Are the magical races… related” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Generally speaking; very distantly. In some cases, the genetic difference is similar to that between humans and whales” Tom replied. “However, when you get down to specific cases, well, there have been quite a few inter-species marriages over the years.”

Harry hesitated, wondering whether he should bring up Dobby.

“Did you ever wonder, Harry, why a wizard from a family as wealthy and ancient as my own would only have one house elf?” Lucius asked idly.

“Um…”

“Or why I would risk public humiliation by dressing my servant in rags, while all other wizards provided their elves with neat, clean and, above all, expensive togas?”

Harry blanched, his stomach sinking; the Malfoys were all about style and the grubby, tatty, woebegone Dobby just didn’t fit their image.

“Youkai seldom keep servants” Tom said, suddenly. “The majority lead the nomadic lives of hunter-gatherers because, due to their superior abilities, they can find sustenance in even the harshest of climates and fight off any foe so foolish as to challenge them”

“However, youkai never enslave others” Lucius added firmly. “As a race, we are under no illusions of our own invulnerability. After all, the great Dog General, a daiyokai of phenomenal power, died at the hands of a mere human. To keep a slave within one’s den is viewed in much the same way as requesting an eagle to pick one’s teeth.”

“Oh!”

“The house of Malfoy liberated its elves almost upon the moment my father entered our Wiltshire Manor.” Lucius explained, his silver eyes meeting Harry’s for the first time. “Some accepted their freedom joyfully, two begged to remain as paid servants and the rest were gifted to Hogwarts. The two elves who stayed were Aiko and Hikaru, formerly Sootie and Pudge.”

Harry’s forehead wrinkled “Why were their names changed?”

Tom’s mouth twisted into a smirk “Would you call one of your kids “Sootie” or “Pudge”? Yuuhoshizumi gave his elves the forenames of youkai nobles out of respect.”

“What about Dobby, though?” Harry asked, the injustice of the elf's mistreatment rankling in his heart.

“My mad great Aunt.” Lucius signed “was somewhat enamoured of Dumbledore…”

“He was apparently quite the pin up in his day.” Tom interjected wryly.

“and she bequeathed her equally insane elf to me.” Lucius smiled ruefully “I don’t know whether she’d finally lost what remained of her marbles or did it out of pure spite. Thus I was encumbered with an elf too traditional to restrain from self-flagulation at the slightest misdemeanour, let alone countenance taking clothes.”

The elegant man sighed “This was not a good combination, given the way in which my aunt taught him to consider my family.”

“Why?” Harry asked, sable eyebrows knotting over confused green eyes. Silver eyes glittering like alpine stars, Lucius opened his quirking mouth to reply.

However, at that moment, however, the door clattered open and Godric bolted upright, yapping his surprise and displeasure in a timbre that Harry felt sure was slightly deeper than yesterday.

“Hey Harry, Tom” Lily cried, staggering in behind a gigantic bird cage. Severus entered behind her, carrying a cluster of bags in one hand and two cardboard animal carriers in the other, with a third clamped under his arm.

“Not in the kitchen, Lil!”

“But they’re indoor chickens!” she insisted, straightening up and brushing a long lock of fiery hair behind her ear. “Oh, Hello?!”

“Lily, this is Luc. His father was a friend of mine” Tom said casually.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance” Lucius replied, standing up and extending his hand. Silver eyes drifted over Lily’s petite form, the pale green linen of her dress skimming the curves of her hips and bust. Severus cleared his throat loudly.

With a wry smile, the young woman shook his hand “Hello Lucius, I see you haven’t changed.” She said, a hint of challenge in her viridian eyes.

Lucius’ grin widened, revealing pearly teeth. Harry busied himself with glopping up some stray egg yolk: Snape was a bit like a thunderstorm- when everything went quiet and still, you knew that the frothing clouds of armageddion were gathering on the horizon.

“And Severus,” Lucius strode past Lily and clapped Severus’ tweed clad shoulder. “I see you’re settling into domesticity.”

“I am not so helpless a bachelor as to be unused to buying groceries.” Severus replied coolly, drawing up his slender frame to look into Lucius’ amused eyes.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Snape wasn’t actually all that tall, certainly not Malfoy’s height or even equallying Tom’s slighter frame. Must be those billowing robes, the teenager thought, as his eyes met Lily’s reassuringly good-humoured, green gaze.

Severus folded his arms, tucking pale, elegant hands into the folds of his green jacket and tilting his head, sleek strands of glossy black hair scrittering over the coarse fabric.

As Lucius’ cocky grin faded, Harry felt a smile tugging at his own mouth. Yeah, Severus wasn’t physically imposing but, however small the scorpion, it’ll still look pretty damn menacing as it sashays towards you, stinger glinting with venom.

Suddenly, Harry’s own, much despised lack of height didn’t seem so bad after all.

oOoOo

Upon Lucius’ swift departure, heralded by a suddenly remembered appointment at the Ministry, calm (or, rather, a type of calm) descended upon the kitchen.

As Lily and Tom argued over the benefits and negatives of raising chickens indoors, Severus strode across the kitchen, Godric fearlessly dancing around his heels, and set the shopping basket upon the table.

Bending down to pat the dog's blond head, the Potions teacher suddenly said “It might be wise for you to know what provisions are available should you find yourself hungry between meals. To this end, would you like to help me unpack the shopping?”

“Um, sure” Harry replied, gazing with bewildered emerald eyes at his… Snape’s hunched form, a curtain of dark locks shielding the man’s angular countenance from view.

Uncertainly, Harry reached his callused hands into the basket and pulled out an entire baguette. “Cool!”

“An undetectable extending charm.” Severus said quietly, removing two large jars from the blue gingham swathed depths. “Raspberry jam and lemon curd. There is also honey and cherry jam somewhere.” Severus’ pale hands indicated to the high, deep cupboard in which he placed the jars.

“Where does the bread go?” Harry asked, hefting out a dense, black loaf.

“General provisions larder. With the cheeses.”

As Harry unpacked, he was pleasantly surprised to see quite a few of his favourite, muggle foodstuffs, things which he’d been given at primary school or Mrs Figgs or even swiped as a taster at the supermarket deli counter, whilst Aunt Petunia’s back was turned. Pickled onions, bobbing palely in russet, spice bejewelled vinegar, slabs of soft, unctuous pate, little pots of richly scented pesto, scarlet vine tomatoes, cartons of glossy, many-hued olives, a jar of ponderously occilating pickled eggs, two huge, gleaming pork pies…

“Shit!” Harry gasped, thrusting a squidgy, square package away from him, as his nose shivelled from the scent which, but a second ago, it has been so eager to snuff up.

Severus span round, the first syllable of Harry’s former surname trembling on his lips. Harry, who had a well honed sense for danger, hastily back-tracked.

“Sorry Sir, but it’s well nasty” the teen murmured, averting his eyes.

Swallowing, the embarrassed flush across his high cheekbones, Severus grabbed a couple of bunches of herbs and turned to put them away. “Vieux Boulogne is one of the more pungent of cheeses.”

“You’ve got Vieux Boulogne?” Tom gasped, his petulant frown morphing into a huge smile as he turned from his argument with Lily. “I didn’t think you could get it over here!”

“One usually cannot” Severus drawled. “However, the local lads seem to believe that cheese smuggling is rather dashing.”

Harry tentatively lifted the waxed paper and took a suspicious glance at the obnoxious orange-rinded menace. “How can people put that in their mouths?”

“It’s quite nice, actually, Harry” Lily replied, opening one of the chicken carriers. A white feathered head poked out, glaring balefully with a straw-coloured eye.

“Don’t you bloody dare, Lily Evans!” Tom cried, grabbing Godric’s collar as the pup danced across the tiles to welcome the newcomer.

Severus shook his head and turned back to unpacking the shopping. “Worse than a bag of cats.”

“I heard that!” Lily cried, clinging onto a box which Tom was firmly carrying out of the kitchen.

Harry grinned to himself; Snape was always one of the more… dominant of the Hogwarts Masters, even gainsaying the Headmaster on occasion. However, it appeared that, in the company of Lily and Tom, the Potioneer was rather more circumspect.

Noticing Harry’s smile, Severus added “It does well to choose one’s battles, Harry. On that point, I was wondering… There is a form of magic which enables one to shield one’s thoughts from those who would access them by stealth”

Harry’s brow furrowed “You mean, like mind-readers?”

“The mind is not like a book, Harry” Severus drawled, folding his arms and tucking his hands into the folds of tweed. “Most Legilimens, that is, wizards who attempt to access ones’ thoughts, can only view those memories or sentiments which are on the surface.”

“Right.”

A lengthy, uncomfortable pause fell. As if recollecting himself, Severus added “It is Tom’s opinion that this particular skill would be of benefit to you.”

Harry gazed at his father, bemusement clouding his green eyes. Severus raised a sable eyebrow and a thought, possibly motivated by primal terror, clicked into place. “Is Dumbledore a Legiliwotsit?”

“Yes, a particularly powerful one.” Severus replied, leaning against the butlers sink.

Harry’s heart and face fell; even though he knew very little, the teen understood enough to realize that this didn’t bode well.

“However, he is not the most powerful.”  The Potions Master added, inspecting his long, tapered nails.

“Who is?” Harry heard himself ask.

“Me,” green eyes met obsidian, “which is why I am offering to teach you.”

“No time like the present” Lily had said; it was a good hour and a half before lunch, more than enough time for a starter Occulmency session.

So there they were; Harry lying on the sofa, uncomfortable as an odontophobic in a dentists chair and just as unwilling to open his mouth. Worse still, Severus, straight and rigid as a perificatus totalis victim, seemed equally unwilling to break the heavy silence. 

As the tension mounted, Harry felt his heart thumping its way to his throat and, when he glanced sideways, Snape’s long, pale hands were clutching his bony knees, the blue veins standing out like electric cables. The teenager was on the point of bolting when suddenly the thought occurred to him that they must look ridiculous, sitting there, all inward-looking eyes and hunched bodies, at the prospect of being alone in a room together. The tousle-haired teen’s snort of humour seemed to wake Severus from his reverie. 

“All magic requires concentration” Severus began abruptly. “The ability to focus one’s intent into a tangible event. Certain forms of magic appear to require less focus but, usually, this is merely because the event is ether easily to visualise, for example, lumos, or where the focus is tightened by some strong emotion. The cructatius curse is a fine example; the desire to cause pain to the person who has harmed one’s kith and kin is a powerful enabler, as is the almost sexual pleasure which a true sadist experiences when indulging their disturbed inclination.” 

The Potions master paused, raising a pale hand to his chin and pressing a finger against the corner of his mouth; obsidian eyes distant, as if reading from an invisible text. “Other forms of magic, however, require considerably greater effort.  Apperation is an often cited example, as it involves total focus. However, Occulmency requires rather more than the momentary attention of apperation. Discipline is of vital importance; once one’s shields have been erected, one must maintain them constantly.”  

Harry swallowed adams apple bobbing in his narrow throat; this sounded tough. 

“However, although learning occulmency requires a long course of study, the initial stages are not arduous” Severus said, his voice cautiously kind. “We will start with self-hypnosis, which will enable you to clear your mind.

“Okay” This is totally not going to work… 

“Firstly, I would like you to lie in a comfortable position. Do you need any cushions for your head and back?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Er thanks” Harry replied, crossing his arms over his chest tightly: this was more cringeworthy than McGonagall's Sex-Ed talk last year.

“It is imperative that you do not cross your arms or legs, P… Harry. You will cut off the flow of blood and the resulting discomfort will destroy your concentration.”

“Okay, sure” Harry replied, dropping his hands at his sides and swallowing. He felt very uncomfortable with this whole hypnosis thing, not to mention laying himself out like a sacrificial victim. A horrible thought occurred.

“WillIbecompletelyunderyourcontrol?”

“And in English?” Severus took a deep breath, obviously thinking better of his sarcasm “I presume you’re worried about the level of my control over you? Your muggle relatives taught you to consider hypnosis as a form of imperius, hm?”

“Um, no, sir” damn it, why did I call him ‘sir’  “Vernon and Petunia didn’t so much as let Dud watch films about ghosts.”

“Typical.”

“They said that sort of freaky ‘made up; stuff didn’t have a place in their home” Harry added with a wry grin. 

“Yes, well, the supposed level of control from hypnosis definitely fits the definition of ‘made up’” Severus sneered “You will be slightly more open to suggestion but you won’t, for example, believe that you are a chicken or any other form of livestock for that matter. You are learning to close your mind.”

“Okay” Harry breathed. Relief was too mild a term.

“Now, are you comfortable? You don’t have to resemble a corpse, Harry, you can rest your hands on your stomach. Now, you are aiming to clear your mind; if a thought occurs, you should consider it briefly impartially then dismiss it." Severus paused significantly. "Now, close your eyes and relax. Imagine that you are in a warm bath, the gentle eddies of the water unbinding your muscles. Breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out one, two, three, breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out, one, two, three”

Harry smiled. When not raised in anger, Snape’s smooth, silken baritone was pretty damn soothing.

“You are calm, you are relaxed, all you need to do is breathe, one, two, three, out, one, two, three.”

When Harry’s smile had relaxed slightly and his breathing had evened out Severus lowered his voice, allowing his counting to fade into a whisper, and, after a brief pause, he started to speak in a gentle, calm tone. “You are at the top of a flight of ten stairs, Harry. These stairs are even, the slightly porous stone warm and textured under your feet. The stairs lead down into a pool of clean water, Harry, it is lapping against the fifth stair. I would like you to step down onto the first step, Harry. Now, step down onto the second step. Now the third step, Harry, feel the stone under your feet. The forth step is next, now the fifth step, the water is warm against your toes. Now the sixth step, feel the water creeping up your legs as you descend, now the seventh step. The eighth step is next. Now the nineth step. Now step into the pool, Harry. The water is warm, you are safe. You are just floating on the water” Harry’s breath whispered out in a sigh. A smile tugged at the corners of Severus mouth. “Now, in the middle of this pool are three boxes. I would like you to swim towards them Harry, and pick one up.”

The Potions Master paused. “As you open the box, a shining, golden light pours out, enveloping you. Breathe in the golden light, Harry, feel it being absorbed into your body. Your mind is calm, you are safe.  Put down the box now, Harry. Watch it float away. Now, reach down and pick up the next box…”

oOoOo

As Lily tugged a tray of mini-pizzas from the oven, Harry bounded in, his face glowing and green eyes bright.

“Went well, huh?” She smiled, her son’s joy reflected in her own round, emerald eyes.

“Yeah, S…everus taught me self-hypnosis. I just have to repeat to myself what he said.” Harry replied, grinning triumphantly “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it but I managed to relax. It’s dead cool."

Lily nodded, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear as she smiled up at Severus, who was lingering by the sitting-room door, his dark eyes uncertain as to whether he should intrude.

“Come on, boys. Lunch is up!”

“Smells great” Harry said, grabbing a handful of cutlery.

“Yeah, old Evans family recipe; French bread, sliced up, spread with tomato chutney, topped with olives and sprinkled with cheese. Easy pizza!”

Severus smiled, flipping the cap off a brown glass bottle with his fingernails “Accompanied by perry.”

He handed a glass of the fizzing, golden liquid to Harry. “It is very pleasant with bread and cheese.”

“Um, thanks” Harry replied, taking a long sip to disguise his embarrassment. His blushes were not long lived however, for, just then, the door flew open with a clatter as Godric barrelled through, his golden paws besmirched by mud.

“The wards are up and all the chickens have come home to roost” Tom announced, poking his head around the door. “And, guess what, we’ve got some puffball mushrooms growing by the barn!”

“Wonderful” Lily replied wryly, “Now wash your hands and come for lunch!”

“Yes Madam” Tom’s crimson eyes sparkled. “At least you, Sev, know the value of a good mushroom!”

“Looks like an elf, eats like a hobbit.” Severus drawled, handing his father a glass “I suppose it’s a mercy that we have the youkai metabolism.”

“Hey!”

“Where’s Nagini, Tom?” Harry asked, nibbling at his piece of French bread.

“Oh, she’s out hunting” Tom replied, waving an elegant hand airily. “People say cats are independent but, believe me, snakes spend most of their time doing their own thing. Except when they particularly want something of course.” He grinned “From what I’ve heard, you’d have done rather well in Slytherin.”

“Yeah” Harry replied, biting his lip. “It’s so strange, thinking back on it all. I mean, you’re totally different to the Voldemort I remembered…”

“As you get more adept at mind magic, your true memories will return” Severus said quietly. “We will see what we can do tomorrow, if it is your wish.”

“But why did he make Tom so different?” Harry exclaimed “Surely he’d have known that I’d find out the truth someday?”

“I believe that Dumbledore wished to plant the seed of hatred” Tom replied. “It is a very human flaw, but we’re all inclined to believe that, if someone is ugly on the inside, they will be ugly on the outside also.” He sighed. “A hideous form to match my hideous deeds, a name which every child would take to mean ‘world-death’.” Tom shook his head “I made up that stupid title when I was twelve; a dash of French mismatched with a strong Germanic accent and a muggle title. I’d dropped it within the year- Ella made no bones about telling me it sounded retarded- but Dumbledore remembered.” Tom shook his head, heavy dark locks whispering against the raw silk of his robe “Honestly, at that age I thought a Dark Lord was a guy with a spiky black castle, guarded by slavering Cerberuses, and the threstral called ‘Lightning’! None of us kids really knew what Grindelwald was getting up to in Europe. Most of my year hadn’t even heard about him before our OWL year...”

“You’re rambling again, father.”

“Another typically ‘Dark Lord’ trait” Tom replied, raising his arched sable eyebrows wryly “Anyway, the fact is that Dumbledore knows how people’s minds work; it’s easier by far to hate someone who is ugly and charmless as an anal tumour and Dumbledore wished you to hate me very deeply. So deeply that, when you met me, you would suspect my every word.”

Harry shook his head; “I know what it’s like to have people telling lies about you; Dud used to tell all the kids, well, the ones kind enough to risk a duffing up for speaking to me, that I was a nut-case. He said I stole from my aunt and uncle all the time and broke stuff.”

The tousle-haired teen raised his eyes just in time to see his mother and father exchange a look, Severus’ cold fury expression mirrored on Lily’s usually kindly face. Suddenly, Harry felt rather glad he wasn’t Dudley Dursley’s shoes.

“Anyway” Tom replied “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you all that I need to go away on business for a bit.”

“Places to see, people to do?” Lily suggested, a cheeky gleam in her emerald eyes.

“Just that.” Tom smiled “Truth is, I’ve been ‘invited’ back to Japan to plead my cause. There are people who need amnesty, international-portkeys to set up, not to mention that there’s powerful magical artefact I’ve got to return to its rightful owner. I shouldn’t be more than a week, two at the outside.”

“When are you leaving?” Harry asked, trying to keep his expression neutral.

“The day after your birthday” Tom replied with a smile.

oOoOo

Propped up on plump crimson pillows, Harry watched the minute hand slowly judder towards midnight. With a stomach full of moussaka and crusty bread, warm bedclothes and relaxed muscles (his only chore today had been feeding the hens, a distinct improvement from being a gardener, cook and cleaner rolled into one), the almost-fifteen-year-old was feeling rather optimistic. Of course, it was rather difficult to feel otherwise, what with Godric’s cuddly, soft-furred body tucked against his hip and the pup’s woolly head on his knee.

Only Hedwig could have made Harry’s happiness complete but she had slipped off somewhere; possibly to collect presents but, deep down, the teenager had the feeling that she was probably feasting on frogs. Tom had complained that, between her and Nagini, the amphibious population of the forest would probably shrink to zero.

As Harry’s green eyes lingered on the dial, he felt a tension, no, more of an excitement. It was a bit like New Years Eve; he was leaving one life behind. It was like on his eve of his eleventh birthday, when he went from ‘just Harry’, an unimportant, exceptionally ordinary muggle boy who had no friends, fortune or family (in the proper sense of the word), to Harry Potter, a wealthy, popular young wizard who had, allegedly, defeated the most evil wizard for over a century.

And, now, it was the turn of ‘Harry Potter’ to fade, being replaced by… well, it felt a bit too soon for Harry Snape (or was it Riddle?) Perhaps simply ‘Harry’: a boy who lived in a big house in the countryside with his two parents, grandfather, pet owl, Hedwig, dog, Godric, snake, Nagini, and Mable, Lucy and Ermintrude the chickens. The teenager smiled; it made a rather nice change from being an unloved orphan under a death sentence.

The hallway clock chimed midnight. “Happy Birthday!!!”

Harry turned to see Tom and Lily beaming; she held a tray of four Champaign flutes while he grasped a large, gold-foil topped bottle, which Nagini was nosing curiously. Behind them, Severus smiled uncertainly, holding a box wrapped in shimmering silver paper.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Harry, Happy Birthday to you” Tom sang, the words sprinting out as if he was trying to win the award for quickest rendition. The cork popped, riccoching off a wall, into the bowl of lilies. Nagini slithered down Tom’s shoulders whilst Godric, leapt off the bed and jumped up at the marble mantelpiece, yapping wildly.

Lily darted forward, holding out a glass which, when filled, was pressed into Harry’s hand. It was mostly froth, which was probably a good thing, Harry realised, when he took his first, heady sip.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Lily sat down on the bed and enveloped the teenager in a tight hug. Harry squeezed her back, breathing in the sweet, floral scent of her perfume. Godric, clambered back up onto the bed and shoved his domed head between them, determined to get his share of any affection.

“We’re saving the proper presents for tomorrow.” Tom explained, perching on the other side of the bed and pulling a squiggling Godric into his lap. “But we thought we’d give you one now, to start making up for all the birthdays we’ve missed.”

Harry shyly accepted the box from Severus with an uncertain, unfocused smile, which was rewarded with a tentative upturning of the Potions Master’s lips.

Setting the parcel on his lap, Harry tugged at the blue ribbon, then lifted the lid. “A portable television..?” he gasped. Dudley had wanted one of these for ages.

“It’s colour, too” Lily beamed “Just came out.”

“It’s… wow!”

Tom grinned “Having Japanese friends does have it’s benefits. It’s all tuned up and ready to go. I’ve also put a recharging spell on the battery”

“Thanks!” Harry beamed. “It’s really great.”

“Just wait till you see what we’ve got planned for tomorrow” Lily smiled. “Tom’s baking you the biggest cake and…”

“Don’t give all our secrets out woman!”

“Oh shush it, Tom” Lily said pertly. “Speaking of spoilsports, Sev’s not letting you off your occulmency lesson. Though, we do need time to prepare… everything so that might be for the best anyway. ”

“I don’t mind” Harry yawned. “The hypnosis bit is dead relaxing.”

Glancing over at Snape, Harry was surprised to observe the usually stoic man’s expression; the slightly widened dark eyes and parted lips betrayed a sharp, yet tender shock. Was the man’s opinion of his teaching skills so low?

Swallowing, Harry caught his father’s eye and smiled. It felt a bit forced but when Severus, slightly wider-eyed, cautiously smiled back, Harry felt his heart lift a fraction.

Maybe “Harry Snape” wasn’t as far off at it sounded, after all.

Slowly floating up through the warm, pillowy, darkness of sleep into an equally cosy nest of duvet covers and blankets was one of Harry’s favourite the “Wrens’ Nest”

No one shrieked at him to get up, nor was Harry ever disturbed by the thumping of feet and doors, like he was in Gryffindor tower; Severus, the only early riser, drifted around the house as silently as a piece of thistledown.

Yes, it was a very nice change indeed to be gently drawn from his slumber by only the birdsong and the sunshine on his face. Harry stretched out, taking a deep breath; the savory scent of pasty wafted in the warm, summer air.

Suddenly, a smooth, soft head butted into the back of Harry’s hand.

“Hedwig?!”

The snowy owl bobbed her head, golden eyes glinting. Beside her, were two parcels, one of which was very bulky. Harry peered at the address; it was from The Burrow.

“Wonder why they sent it with you, Hedwig? Perhaps it was too big for Pig.”

*Ssssssstupid noisy-sharpbeak bounced off nest-sssshell*

Harry turned to see Nagini coiling around the bed-head.

*Twittery, twittery, zoom, zoomy, zoom. Wanted to bite egg-biter but white-sharpbeak ssssaid no. Noisy gave prey to White. Flew off. Good riddance.*

Harry grinned, smoothing Hedwig’s snowy wings. Seems like the old girl liked Pig after all. Or didn’t hate him enough to let Nagini make him her breakfast.

“Thanks, girl.” *Thank you Nagini*

*Nagini understands two leg hissing.* Nagini hissed loftily.

Grinning, Harry slid his legs out of bed and, after swiftly exchanging pyjamas for a polo-neck and jeans, grabbed his friends’ gifts and hurried downstairs.

When Harry entered the kitchen, he was met with a scene which resonated powerfully with his thoughts of yesterday evening.

By the sink, Lily squeezed blood oranges; their hue reflected in her fiery hair, which she had gathered into a bun using a silver and emerald comb. The square stones were the same bright, fresh green as her dress and heeled shoes; Harry felt a rush of love when he realised that his tom-boyish Mum had dressed up for his birthday.

Beside the Aga, Snape, was pulling out a tray of freshly-made croissants, jerking them away from the boisterous dog bouncing at his heels. And, at the table, upon which brightly wrapped presents had been piled around a huge bunch of sunflowers, Tom leant on his arm, half- asleep, his raven curls lapping against the white tablecloth like a midnight sea.

“Happy Birthday, Harry” Lily called, walking over and thumping the a big glass jug of juice on the table.

Tom stirred. “What timeizzit?”

“Time for breakfast, father” Severus replied, a smile warming his dark eyes.

Blinking, Harry stared at Snape; he was so changed from the Potions Master of old. A sudden dart of anger pierced Harry’s heart, flaring into his eyes; just how much damage had Dumbledore’s lies done to Snape.

“Harry, you okay?” Tom asked, his crimson eyes concerned.

“Oh, yeah. I was just thinking, y’know. Dumbledore…” Harry trailed off. He didn’t want to talk about that, not today.

“Yes,” Tom’s eyes narrowed. “He’ll get his comeuppance, Harry. However, today is a time to celebrate the present, not the past. Speaking of which…”

Grinning, Harry dropped the large package from the Weasleys by his chair and placed Hermione’s gift beside his plate on the table. As he looked up at the piled gifts, he noticed a flash of colour. The ceiling was covered with rainbow hued balloons, each one fading through the spectrum at a different rate to the others.

“Oh, wow!”

“Tom said that flowers just wouldn’t cut it” Lily grinned, her green eyes twinkling “He’s been up since six charming them.”

“Well, it’s a family tradition” Tom replied, helping himself to a croissant and smothering it with butter. “I always do balloons. Remember your eighth birthday, Sev.”

“I was the only child with balloon threstrals.” Severus drawled “I believe that you were known amongst the children as ‘mad Snape’s madder uncle” for quite some time.”

“You liked threstrals” Tom countered “And I did snakes, lions, swans and dogs as well”

“Cerberuses.” Lily corrected, grinning. “It was the most talked about party of the year.”

“How come I haven’t got any magical animal balloons?” Harry laughed.

“Sev said you were too old and sophisticated.” Tom replied “I was in your corner, of course.”

“Uh, thanks.” Harry didn’t know exactly who he was thanking but felt it should be said nonetheless.

“Presents, Harry!” Lily exclaimed “Mine is the one with snitch wrapping paper"

Grinning, Harry reached for the small, flattish box. Inside was a leather case, which opened to reveal a silver hip-flask, engraved with a heraldic shield, supported by what looked like rats.

“It was my grandfather’s.” Lily explained “He was in the Ruhleben prisoner of war camp. The motto means; ‘never give up hope’. I thought you might like it.”

The smooth metal felt warm under Harry’s fingers, friendly somehow. “Thanks, Mum.”

“Now don’t you go disappointing us, Harry” Tom admonished. “We want to see Absinthe, or at least Firewhisky in that. None of your pansy kid-drinks!”

“Father!”

Harry grinned “I’ve not drunk anything stronger than butterbeer. Not until last night, at least. Why rats, though, Mum?”

“They became the unofficial mascot of the camp” Lily smiled sadly. “I think it was just a case of trying to find humour in the situation.”

Severus handed Harry a small, square box, wrapped in red paper. “I thought that this might be of some use.”

Harry did not know what to expect but a golden snitch was not it. Holding the small, golden sphere in his hand, Harry gaped, green eyes wide.

“It is a professional training snitch, designed to stay within a forty mile radius and reappear every ten seconds.” Severus explained, his dark eyes darting anxiously to Harry. “I appreciate that, in such a situation as this, you may not always wish to be around… to be indoors…” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Harry nodded, feeling rather self-conscious “It’s great. Um, thanks.”

Severus nodded, his dark eyes tracing Harry's face anxiously.

"I can't wait to try it out." Harry added quicky.

Tom smiled as he handed Harry a tiny, perfectly square green, velvet box, the type used by muggle jewellers. “Good things come in little packages.”

“Like Lily” Severus added casually, before a sudden flush flamed across his high cheekbones.

“Oi! Just because we all aren’t over six feet!”

Harry eased open the lid. Gold gleamed.

“It’s a locket.” Tom informed the stunned boy, who was holding the little golden snitch aloft by its glittering chain. “Have a look inside.”

Finding the latch with fumbling fingers, Harry flipped it free. The locket opened like a concertina; a dozen tiny, round, double-sided frames unfolding in a long chain.

“Wow!”

Each tiny frame held a tiny portrait; one side of the locket held Tom, Lily, Severus, a witch who greatly resembled Snape and an elderly man and woman who Harry remembered from the mirror of Erised and, on the other, the frames held Ron, Hermione and (more surprisingly) Sirius, James and Remus. Quite a few of the frames remained empty on both sides.

“If you ask me how I obtained the hair samples and photographs I will, of course, lie.” Tom said, winking rather obviously at Severus, whose flush deepened.

“I wasn’t going to.” Harry replied “How does hair come into it, anyway?”

“For a magical portrait, you’ve got to weave the hair in with the canvas.” Tom explained. “It’s a bit of a faff fest but the benefits outweigh the difficulties. If you touch any of the minitures with your wand, they’ll be able to speak and hear you. Obviously, the real person won’t remember the conversation but, if you need some advise, they’re a pretty good facsimile; the hair ‘remembers’, you see.”

Harry grinned “Thanks. It must have taken you ages!”

“Well, I had a bit of time on my hands before the term ended” Tom said with a shrug. “I thought you might like it for school or when your friends invite you over.” He smiled “It won’t open for anyone but you.”

Harry opened the finely wrought but reassuringly chunky clasp, trying to fasten the locket around his neck. “Damn.”

Warm, slightly calloused fingers gently slid the clasp from his grip, deftly fastening the chain.

“Thanks” Harry replied, not quite looking at Severus. It seemed strange that it didn’t feel strange to have the man’s hands so near his throat. A month ago, Harry knew he would have flinched away, fearing strangulation!

To hide his embarrassment Harry reached across the table and picked up a large, square box, wrapped in bright red paper and addressed by Hagrid’s messy scrawl. Inside was a triple-layer chocolate cake, decorated with blobby, marzipan dragons.

“He always gets me a cake” Harry said with a wistful smile “They come in… the used to come in useful. What with living with the Dursleys.”

When Hermione’s gift was a large box of chocolates, Harry caught a brief glance between Severus and Tom and, by the time he’d opened the Weasley’s parcel, containing another, even larger box of chocolates and an assortment of pasties and a fruitcake, his family’s smiles had taken on a congealed quality.

The fact that Sirius had thought to put in a couple of jars of potted chicken and shrimp with ‘The Broom Servicing Handbook’ didn’t help matters and, when Lupin’s gift turned out to be a hamper containing dried fruit, vacuum packed salami and a big bar of Honeyjukes chocolate, the air had taken a definite turn towards the frosty.

“Ella used to send me hampers.” Tom said quietly. “Apples, cured meats, biscuits, cheese. The type of food which would last a long time. She knew about conditions at the orphanage.”

Lily’s face had flushed beetroot. Severus placed a hand gently on her arm.

Harry swallowed. Ooops. “Well, you see, when I got back from Hogwarts after my first year, Dobby kind of dropped a big pudding my aunt had made… it was for this important business dinner… he didn’t want me to go back to Hogwarts, Dobby I mean. When I refused to promise, he did a bit of magic, then I got this letter from the Ministry and, well I hadn’t told them about me not being able to do magic during the holidays. They kinda locked me in my room.”

“And didn’t feed you?” Snape’s low drawl had taken on that silken quality. The type that preceded the loss of a million points and twenty hours of gutting newts.

“Well, I had soup. They pushed a can through the cat-flap.”

“A can! Through the cat flap!”

Harry swallowed, this was turning out to be a disaster; why hadn’t he kept his big mouth shut!

“It is Harry’s birthday, we can discuss this later.” Severus said in an undertone. “If you have had enough to eat, Harry, I think that we should commence our occulmency lesson.”

Gathering up his unread letters (and Hermione’s birthday card, Harry nodded  and jumped down from his seat. “Er, thanks for the presents and croissants and everything. I really appreciated it.”

“You’re welcome, Harry” Tom replied “And I’ll get onto making those balloon thestrals!”

“What are threstrals anyway?” Harry asked, relieved at the return of levity.

“They pull the carriages at Hogwarts” Tom said simply.

“But the carriages aren’t pulled by anything!” Harry said, his black eye-brows knotting.

“Threstrals are invisible to most people” Tom replied “They look like winged horses, but rather more reptilian.”

“Oh, cool.” Harry replied. “Well, best get going. S… I’m going to try and raise a shield today.”

“Good luck” Lily grinned. As if struck by a sudden impulse, she reached over and tugged Harry into her arms, smiling over her son’s tousled dark hair at Tom. She of all people knew that life was a precious gift, which is why now is called ‘the present’.

oOoOo

“You have now learnt to clear your mind and visualise your mindscape” Severus intoned, his dark eyes serious. “Muggle hypnosis has taken us as far as it may, thus we must now enter the realms of Occulmency. A cleared mind, whilst providing a certain level of protection, will not deter a powerful and determined occulmens. Therefore, your next goal is to erect a shield.”

“Okay” Harry replied cautiously.

“It may help if you visualise something which, in life, would prevent a person from passing. I use fire, Father, on the other hand, uses a version of his youkai shield. I would not advise you to use a building.”

Harry flushed guiltily. Hogwarts, his first idea, has been pretty dumb now he came to think about it.

But what to use? Fire sounded pretty good, since Snape used it, but wouldn’t that make it easier to penetrate? Maybe not but Harry had a strong feeling that the shield had to be personal. What did Harry, himself, find a deterrent? What would he, literally, not be able to cross…

“Cheese!”

“What?” Severus exploded, arched eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Harry grinned “You know how I couldn’t go near that stinky cheese, the one which made me feel sick even if I walked into the same room?”

Severus’ incredulous look slowly merged into a smile. “I personally could not stand the stench of lard; if my mother started to cook it up with porridge for the wild birds, I had to leave the house.”

“Worse than the smelly-sock cheese?”

“Infinitely."

Severus looked into Harry’s eyes and, suddenly, the teenager found himself transported to a small kitchen, one which looked strikingly similar to Mrs Figs. A terrible smell, like the ghoul of a piece of cheap bacon, coiled into his nostrils. Harry gagged.

“Wow. Yeah. Foul.” Harry gasped, breathing in deep lung-fulls of the sweet, clean air which spilled through the sitting-room window.

“God, that’s gross!”

“You might wish to combine the two scents.” Severus smiled, revealing a wicked glint of teeth. “It is particularly relevant, considering the Headmaster’s love of sherbet lemons…”

“Huh?”

“Have you ever eaten a strongly-flavoured soft cheese then taken a drink of citrus juice?”

“Once” Harry replied, wincing.

“Once is often enough.” Severus replied briskly. “Now, visualise your cheese…”

oOoOo

Harry walked down the hall, a huge smile across his face; he had, after a couple of false starts, created a complete shield and, although Severus invariably broke through, the cheese’s stinky aura was getting wider and more potent each time Harry tried to visualise it.

Snape’s dark eyes had gleamed with approval at the end of the lesson and, although Harry had never sought the man’s regard (at least, not since first year) the memory felt warm in his chest.

As Harry cracked open the kitchen door, music streamed out; a catchy, bouncy, very fast tune.

“Ai aiyi ai I’m your little butterfly, green, black and blue making colours in the sky…”

Sliding on his socks, Tom glided across the kitchen floor, cloudy black hair streaming behind him and his whirling silver robe glowing green and blue under the shifting hues of the light. As Tom danced back to the counter, a box of eggs in his arms, Harry gazed, transfixed.

Skin as white as snow, hair as black as the counterpane, eyes as red as blood supplied his subconscious. Where did that come from? Oh yeah, Snow White… Though it was lips as red as blood, wasn't it?

“You can see, now, why Dumbledore has always feared him” a low voice murmured in his ear.

Harry turned to meet Snape’s dark eyes “It is not the ugly who must be feared, Harry, but those whose charm and beauty bewitch the senses.” The Potions Master’s gaze fell upon Tom’s swaying, twirling form. “Almost every Dark Lord has been fair of face and silver-tongued because, believe me, magical power is nothing, nothing compared to beauty.”

“Grindelwald was beautiful…” Harry whispered.

“Yes, as fair as Lucifer himself. And therein lay our problem; Dumbledore thought Tom resembled his lover in heart as well as body and mind.”

“His lover!”

“And what are you two whispering about?” Tom called, his ruby eyes interested. Nagini, who had been undulating on the counter, gazed at them in irritation.

*Dancing, sssilliessss! Quiet for the musssssssic!*

*Ssshussh, Nagini. Dance again sssssoon.* Tom hissed gently.

“Um, Dumbledore.” Harry replied uncomfortably, a blush suffusing his thin cheeks.

“And his relationship with Grindelwald.” Severus added wryly.

“Ah, now that’s a good story.” Tom grinned “Suffice to say, it’s one of the reasons why he and Lucius, in particular, never saw eye to eye.”

Harry shook his head. The past used to be so simple; now it was a ruddy maze!

“Lil’s out decorating the back garden but the front lawn’s sufficient for a quick game of Quidditch” Tom said, beating a large bowlful of flour into the golden mixture. “Give me half an hour and I’ll russle up some lunch.”

“Very well, I will dig out my broom.” Severus replied, striding upstairs. Grinning, Harry eased the kitchen door closed and followed him.

OoOoO

As Harry tugged on a lightweight, bottle-green jumper, the wad of scrolls brushed against his hand. Tugging them loose, Harry looked at the assorted papers.

It’d only take a minute.

Hermione’s card, which featured a snowy owl, was brief; apart from his name and the printed ‘Happy Birthday, she only wrote ‘Hope that you are well and that we will see you soon.’ Harry’s green eyes narrowed; Hermione’s letters usually ran to several pages, even if she was only describing the weekend.

Ron’s letter was equally to the point ‘Hope the Dursleys aren’t giving you grief. Me and Hermione are hoping we’ll be able to see you soon. Keep you posted, mate.’

Twisting his mouth, Harry opened Sirius’ letter ‘Many Happy Returns… still in England but staying at a safe location… bored out of my mind… How are the muggles treating you… see you soon.’

Remus’ just said, ‘Happy Birthday.’

“Harry?”

Harry turned, dropping his letter on the bed “Sorry.”

“It is of no consequence; I only found my broom a matter of minutes ago.” Severus said neutrally.

As he walked down the stairs beside his father, Harry heard himself say “Hermione’s didn’t write as much as Ron…”

“I can see why that might worry you.” Severus replied, a hint of irony in his voice. “Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are currently in a safehouse, along with Messrs Lupin and Black. They are quite well but have been forbidden to comment upon their location or anything that would suggest that their circumstances have changed.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

Severus’ eyebrow quirked “Let us just say that Dumbledore was not wholly satisfied with your account of the final challenge.”

Harry’s mouth worked, his green eyes wide in alarm “He knows…”

“He knows nothing, Harry.” Severus replied seriously. “Dumbledore, naturally, wonders why the Cup was a Portkey and where or, rather, to whom it took you. Most of the Order of the Phoenix” he paused at Harry’s blank expression “Most of the group of people who are within Dumbledore’s confidence are convinced it was some form of jape, unpleasant but not threatening. A few have suggested that it was a trap for Krum although, as your name was placed in the Cup, Dumbledore is unconvinced by this theory.”

Severus raised his chin, a haughty look in his dark eyes “He has attempted occulmency on me, not realising that I am capable of visualising any scene at will, Cedric has also been questioned, to no avail as I modified his memory and a watch has been set on Privet Drive.”

Harry paled “But… I’m here.”

“And 'Harry Potter' is, also, there. Peter Pettigrew is a fair actor” Severus smiled wryly. “Figg’s reports have been dull, much to Dumbledore’s irritation.”

“Figg? You mean, Mrs Figg?”

“Yes.” Severus replied “She is a squib, stationed in your area to keep an eye on you.”

“She never told me!”

“I expect she was not given the requisite permission.”

Harry shivered “That’s so not right…”

“Welcome to the chessboard.” Severus said quietly.

“What if they call for me, though?” Harry asked, green eyes wide with anxiety.

“Peter will inform Tom the moment a wizard or witch enters the area; you will leave via the wardrobe and he will return here. Your trunk is still at Privet Drive and it would be take a matter of seconds to transfigure your clothes. However, I have it on good authority that Dumbledore does not intend to send for you until the last week of the holidays.”

“I’d rather stay here.” Harry muttered.

“Why aren’t you two outside?” Tom called. “Twenty minutes later and here you are, chinwagging on the stairs. Y’know Melissa Glidewell…”

“Broke her neck by falling down the stairs. Yes, father, I know.” Severus interrupted, rolling his eyes.

Harry’s eyebrows hit his messy hairline "Glidewell... Wasn't she the founder of the Harpies?"

“Indeed she was, Harry” Severus replied dryly. “I was so neurotic over stairs by the time I arrived at Hogwarts that I walked, one step at a time, holding onto the balustrade with an iron grip.”

“And you always followed me up the stairs” grinned Lily, sticking her head around the door. “The other kids thought you were a right perv!”

“Culminating in that most unfortunate event which led to James hiccoughing slugs for a week” Tom replied “James swore the spell came form Severus, Lily maintained that she’d cast it and Severus was equally adamant that he did it in self-defence. I believe all three were given detention. Not in the same room, of course.”

Lily and Severus shared a grin.

“Come on, you three; oil’s on and it’s time to fry some chips!”

oOoOo

After a hearty lunch of chip sandwiches, Harry, Lily, Tom and Severus traipsed out into the warm, flower-scented sunshine, Godric dancing at their heels.

The impromptu game of Quidditch was unexpectedly successful; Tom and Severus were competent fliers, with Severus’ fast reactions and Tom’s natural grace almost masking their unfamiliarity with brooms.

Lily, Harry noted with pride, was pretty damn good and a bit of a daredevil with it; Snape always had one, slightly concerned, eye on her and, when Lily tried out the Wronski Feint, he almost collided with the ground himself in trying to get to her. Lily had rolled her emerald eyes, grinning affectionately.

And Godric, despite not possessing a. wings or b. a broom, took some pretty impressive leaps and, once, Severus spent a good five minutes demanding, begging then bribing the snitch from between the pup’s sharp little teeth. To Harry’s complete lack of surprise, Snape took that as an excuse to sit down on the sidelines, holding Godric’s collar in one hand and his wand in the other.

When Tom left to ice the cake, the quidditch descended into a boisterous game of tag and, by the time Lily and Harry had exhausted themselves into agreeing to call it a draw, moths were fluttering around the windows of ‘The Wren’s Nest.’

Whilst Harry and Lily left to take a quick shower, Severus disappeared into the kitchen. However, when they arrived downstairs, the house was empty.

“Let’s go outside.” Lily suggested with a mysterious grin. ‘

Marking the corners of the triangular garden, the swaying spires of the three, gigantic yew trees flamed with their own private constellations of bright, blue and white lights.

The smaller, prettier trees, cherry, peach, fig apple and rowan were hung with pretty, pastel coloured paper lanterns which bobbed merrily in the evening breeze and even the (comparatively) tiny rosebushes had fairies fluttering in their boughs.
In the foreground, a circular table stood, dressed in a silver tablecloth which shimmered in the candlelight. Centre stage, amongst the heaped plates of crisps, butterfly cakes, pizza and cocktail sausages, was a huge, square, green-iced cake, stuck on either side with three chocolate sticks, each of which ended with a hoop. Tiny, caramel brooms hovered in the air above the cake, orbited by two chocoballs, a large red jelly bean and a tiny, yellow smarty.

And, tethered to the four chairs with multi-hued strings, black balloon pegasuses, golden lions, red hippogriffs and white owls floated, dancing in the zephyrs of flower-scented wind.

Harry’s face split into a grin “Cool!”

“The cake was Severus’ idea” Tom said, grinning. “We thought it might be appropriate, seeing the ‘Quidditch’ theme we had this year.”

OoOoO

Later, full of party food and victoria sponge cake, Harry watched as fifteen Chinese lanterns slowly rose into the sky, floating up through the heavens until they resembled shooting stars.

Little did the small family know, as they lay stargazing on the soft, mossy ground, that other eyes were watching the sky that tranquil, summer’s eve. At the very edge of that sacred and ancient forest, a canine cocked his head at the pretty orange lights, which floated like Jack O’Lantern’s lamps across the darkening sky.

Flickering orange against velvet black, like the pumpkin lanterns which smiled merrily from the houses as he had run towards the smouldering, blackened ruin one Halloween nearly fourteen years ago.