“Hi Mike, I’m just finishing up with the soul sorting. It’s tough, you know. I mean, some lives are much harder then others and, well, it’s difficult to decide which of the poor souls are going to live them.”

“Yeah, like, these Potters: it says they’re rich, intelligent, liberal and longing to be a mummy and daddy; do you give them a son whose soul is enlightened, intelligent and strong, someone who could become a powerful force for good, or do you give one of the weaker souls a chance to reach their potential?”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got two wizards souls left to allocate and I really can’t decide. This one here, he’s got fair amount of intelligence but, well, he’s not a free thinker: if his mummy tells him the sky is green, he’ll insist it’s green despite all evidence to the contrary.”

“So not a philosopher.”

“Definitely not. He’s rather inclined to pride and it’s not the good sort: if someone doesn’t conform to his ideal, he’ll try to change them and, if that doesn’t work, they’re fair game.”

“Hmm… and what are your choices?”

“Well, we’ve got the Potters and the Snapes. Tobias Snape is muggle, Eileen Snape, nee Prince, is mage: it’s the old story, pureblood mage fell in love with a muggle, the muggle felt undermined because of mage’s power so he started to behave like the pureblood’s mother always said muggles were; stupid, viscous, etc. Only, now the mage is with child and cannot return to her parents; she’s angry, resentful and despises all muggles, especially the child’s father. In turn, the child’s father despises her and spends almost all his wages in the pub.”

“And what’s your other soul like?”

“One of the finest, Mike. It’s Da Vinci quality; he’s incredibly intelligent, exceptionally creative and, well, he has this curiosity, this philosophical inquisitiveness. If he can reach his full potential, we’re looking at another mind like Flamel. Is the old bastard here yet, by the way?”

“No, still has the Philosopher’s Stone clasped in his sweaty little hands. Concentrating on Healing Research now, it seems.”

“Well, this soul, here, is also rather, well it’s volatile, stubborn, sensitive and prone to resentment but it also has a great empathy and courage.”

“It’s easy for a soul like that to twist.”

“Yeah. So, what should I do: if I put him with the Potters, he’ll achieve his full potential. We could be looking at a Minister who could match Tom Riddle.”

“However, if you put the other soul with the Snapes, you’re going to get a Death Eater. The Princes are a Slyherin family and, if his mum says he has to be in Slytherin, he’ll be in with the vipers. Nasty lot, these last few years.”

“I know, sorting them has been a nightmare. I just never know what’s best: if you give the worst a change, they may still turn out dark despite their parent’s good influence. Yet, the soul which may, in a good placement, have been light, will be tainted by the bad placement. I have this problem with my second soul; he’s sensitive and passionate, he could so easily twist and be lured into the darkness, which would twist him further. I mean, he probably would rally, he’s got such a mind and such strength of character that he’d realise the error of his ways but…”

“By then it might be too late. So what you goin’ to do, Gabe?”

“Well, I was considering giving the weaker soul to the Potters but, after talking to you, I think the needs of the many must prevail: I’m going to allow the strong soul a chance to reach his potential. The time of the equinox is coming and, when darkness and light are in balance, a powerful soul on the side of the light will vanquish the darkness more quickly, thus saving lives which, otherwise, would have been devoured.”

“Yeah, I can go with that. Funny, really, how fate can be changed.”

“It’s about as far from funny as you can get, Mike. Now, I’m feeling like a stiff glass of ambrosia. Are you going to join me?”

“Sure. Bye bye, little souls. Hope you have nice lives.”

“Come on, you idiot.”

oOoOo

“Oh, look, Jargo, he has my eyes.”

“Aye, my love a true hazel eye. Face like a squashed, boiled monkey, though!”

“Jargo Roderick Potter!” the new mother sat up, a few pewter hairs falling from her bun and framing her pretty, heart-shaped face.

“Keep your hair on, Lucy, I didn’t say it wasn’t a sweet, squashed, boiled monkey.” grinned Jargo, a handsome, raffish, middle-aged man with messy dark hair and a stunt-pilot moustache.

“You are quite impossible!” laughed Lucy, as she stroked her baby son’s soft cheek. “I think he might have a fine bone-structure, there are good cheekbones here, like my uncle Hugenon Prince.”

“I’m sure Hugenon will be delighted to know he bears the resemblance. After all, who wouldn’t want to resemble a…”

“Squashed, boiled monkey.” giggled Lucy, rearranging the babe’s swaddling clothes. “Oh, Jargo, I must admit I never thought this day would come, we’ve waited so long” she reached into the pocket of her blue and white striped robes and retrieved a tiny scrap of lace.

“I know, pet, I know” Jargo patted her shoulder. There was a knock at the door “Yes?”

A little house-elf in red, gold trimmed table-runner, which was draped like a toga, stepped inside “Milady Black”

An elderly lady tottered into the room, her bun was white and her heart-shaped face was far more wrinkled than the youthful Lucy’s, yet her hazel eyes were just as bright.

“Oh, children! I am so pleased for you!”

“Come Mother, come look at him, he has our eyes and, I’m sure, uncle Hugenon’s cheekbones.”

“Yes, yes” smiled the old lady, gently taking the lace-trimmed bundle from his mothers arms “And you look like you have your Papa’s nose, little one. Oh, they’re so alike! You could never mistake who his Papa is!”

“Right, I’m off to wet the baby’s head.” Said Jargo in mock-ire “When one’s mother-in-law tells one that one’s nose resembles a button mushroom, there’s nothing a gentlemage can do but leave the room!”

“Bye Jargo”

“Don’t come back drunk, you old rascal. You have a son to set a good example.” scolded Mrs Black.

“I swear on my honour as a Gryffindor, Ma’am. Now, ladies, I bid you farewell” said Jargo, with a flourishing bow, before strolling down the corridor, whistling.

“Gryffindorks, my dear Lucy.” sighed Persephone Black with a wry smile “They’re always the same.”

Lucy laughed “Mother! You’re as bad as Jargo!”

“So, my dear, what are you going to be calling the little one?” said Persephone, summoning a chair.

“Well,” said Lucy thoughtfully “Jargo and I were rather fond of James but, now he’s here, it doesn’t suit.”

“No, no I quite agree. Awfully muggle name, James. This one is going to be intelligent, look at that forehead, like that of my dear father Phineas! A classical name, that would suit! Not Phineas, though, people might think he’s named after his muggle-hating great, great grandfather.”

“Classical… Hmm…”

“Oh look at that severe look he’s giving me, bless, he seems to be saying ‘who do you think you are, coming in and taking my mummy’s attention away from me?’” laughed Persephone.

“He is a serious looking little thing.” Lucy cuddled her infant son, smiling into his solemn little face.

“Not Sirius either, my love. That bitch Walburga is calling her whelp that.”

“Severus…”

“Hm? Oh, severe little Severus!” the old woman laughed “Namesake of the illustrious Lucius Septimus Severus: what a legacy! I quite approve, my dear.”

oOoOo

“Oh! Mrs Potter, little Severus is quite the most intelligent child I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. He’s so keen, so… so enthralled with the world. While most boys of his age simply stare out of the window and doodle knights and whatnot, Severus is simply a joy to teach!”

“I am most pleased, Myrtle, to hear such a glowing account of his progress” smiled Lucy Potter, her hazel eyes alight with happiness.

“I am wondering, Ma’am, as my father, I am a half-blood you see, he was a muggle scientist and, I think, it might be of benefit…”

“Oh, Myrtle. Teach Severus whatever you please. He is always telling me how you’re the cleverest witch in the world” Lucy giggled “I have to make do with just being the prettiest, though I think he’s a bit biased there!”

“Mummy!” A seven-year old boy with shoulder-length raven curls and bright hazel eyes dashed into the room, a bunch of daffodils clasped in a pudgy hand. He pulled to a stop and, taking a pair of half-moon spectacles from his pocket, carefully divided the flowers according to colour, he turned around with two bunches.

“Here you are, Mummy. I got the white frilly ones for you because you like lace and I got the yellow ones for Miss Myrtle, as they look like Wordsworth’s ones. Daddy took me flying” the little boy said seriously.

“Wordsworth, Severus dear?” Lucy said, savouring the daffodils’ sweet scent.

“The muggle poet, Mummy! He’s not half as good as Rochester, though.”

“Rochester! You’ve been in my private library again, young man” said Myrtle, blushing.

“Well, I’ve read everything in ours. Everything I’m allowed to read at least!” said the child, pouting.

“I don’t think you were allowed to read the Rochester, either, Severus?” said Lucy with a smile.

oOoOo

“Oh, Papa I just don’t think brooms like me. They never do what they ought!”

“I know, Sev but it’s an essential skill.” said Jargo, helping his son up and gently dusting the grass from his knees.

“I know Papa. I’m just no good at it, that’s all.”

“I wasn’t much good at Charms, old chap but I kept on at ‘em till I conquered them. It’s the Gryffindor way. The Potter way! Now, lets try again.”

“Is there another way to fly, without broomsticks Papa?”

“Is this your subtle way of asking for a Pegasus, Sev?” Jargo ruffled his son’s messy hair, whilst pondering who would be the best breeder to approach.

“No, Daddy!” the little boy said in a bored tone “I mean fly without sitting on something, by oneself!”

“You mean levitate? Well, old boy, the short answer is yes but it’s a rather remote form of Mind Magic.”

“Mind Magic?” The boy’s hazel eyes sharpened in interest.

“Oh, I’ve caught your fancy. Tell you what, get airborne and I’ll find you a Legilimancy tutor, one who can teach you how to do without a broom.”

“So I’ve got to learn to fly with a broom before I can learn to fly without” the child asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

“Enough of your cheek, my lad” laughed Jargo “Now, let’s see whether we can tame the beast now.”

“Yes Papa.” smiled Severus; Papas were so funny and strange sometimes.

oOoOo

“Grandma Persephone, how exactly does a wand choose it’s wizard”

“Well, Severus, we’re probably going to have to ask Mr Olivander for a full answer to that but I can tell you a few principle facts. Wand cores tend to mimic their owner’s traits; unicorn hair, for example, is rather Hufflepuff: for the pure of heart, see. Phoenix feathers are good magic boosters, though they’re picky, tend to choose highly magical people. If you’re a bit of a bastard, you might get Dragon Heart-sting. My Grandfather had one of those.”

“Was he a bastard, Grandma?” Severus asked, tilting his head on the side.

“I’ll say he was; threw my father off simply because he didn’t buy this prejudice against muggleborns.” Persephone snorted, thumping her walking stick on the ground. “Demiguise hair is good for transfiguration, as is Hippogriff talon for charms and Runespoor fangs for Defence. Kelpie hair, on the other hand, is a good all-rounder. Papa had an Ashwinder ash core; the wand knew he’d have something to protect.”

“Hmm…” Severus walked along, deep in thought.

“You’ll find out soon enough, love. Here we are!”

Severus stepped into the tiny, dusty shop, looking with awe at the shelves of faded, ancient looking boxes.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Black. I assume this is young master Potter.”

“Good afternoon, Sir.” Severus said politely “I’m here to choose a wand.”

Olivander nodded, smiling at the precocious child “Indeed, well, let’s see what we have. Now, Elm and Kelpie hair, a fine wand, supple”

Severus looked at the wand appraisingly “A good all rounder. What does elm mean?”

“Oh, you know something of wand-lore” the old man said in a delighted voice “Well, Elm is a noble tree, a leader but not a follower, practical, generous, modest but a little unforgiving.”

Severus waved it but nothing happened.

“Olive and Runespore, give it a try.” Seeing Severus’s inquisitive look, Ollivander smiled “Olive is the tree of intelligence: practical, sensitive, empathic and scholarly.”

“And it sounded so promising” Severus sighed when the wand failed to work.

“Hmm… maybe Phoenix Feather and Holly; deeply spiritual, very powerful and wise.”

“Nope” Severus put down the wand with a grimace. They’d all sounded really good: why weren’t they working?!

“Don’t worry, young chap. There are plenty more to try. Now” Olivander opened a wooden chest “I have a very fine wand here, Walnut and Chimera scale”

“Chimera scale?” Severus asked, his hazel eyes widening.

“Oh yes, very rare. Few are compatible but, as you got no reaction from the others…”

“What does it mean?” Severus said, gazing at the dark red, ornately carved wand in fascination.

“Walnut is full of contrasts, unrelenting, ingenious, ambitious, admirable and noble. Chimera scales are a highly powerful core, some think they are better than phoenix feathers.”

Severus picked up the wand and swept it though the air, before jumping back, hazel eyes wide behind wire-rimmed specticals, his dark, tousled hair falling over his shoulders, as every wand in the shop stood to attention with a smart thump.

Ollivander looked smug “Seven galleons and three sickles, please.”

oOoOo

“Bye Mummy, Papa, Grandma” Severus said, giving them each a hug in turn.

“Good bye, Severus dear.” Lucy said, stroking Severus’ shaggy mane out of his eyes.

“Don’t fall into the trunk! Might never find you in that library you’ve got stowed away in there.” grinned Jargo, lighting a cigar.

“Smoking is bad for you, Papa. It says so in the Science Journal!”

“You tell him, Sev my love” said Grandma Persephone, kissing Severus on the cheek “Live up to your name-sake.”

“Now, we don’t mind where you end up sorted…” started Lucy.

“Nonsense! Boy’s a Gryffindor through and through!”

“Slytherin!”

“Oh be quiet Persephone” chuckled Jargo.

“I think I’m more of a Ravenclaw actually.” Severus said, hauling his trunk beside him. “Orchideous!”

After furnishing his mother and grandfather with bunches of celandines and rosemary flowers and his father with a fragrant buttonhole, Severus waved goodbye to his family and hauled his trunk onto the train

“Um, excuse me?”

Severus turned to look into the largest, greenest pair of eyes he’d ever seen, fringed with lashes as red…

“Your eyelashes are the colour of my wand”

“Huh!” the little redhead looked at Severus with a quizzical expression on her pale, heart-shaped face.

“Um! Er.. I’m sorry” Severus said, a blush spreading over his high cheekbones “I was just, er, well your eyes are a pretty amazing colour.”

The girl blushed brighter than her auburn hair “Thanks! I’m Lily!”

“Um, Severus. Severus Potter. Er… you wanted to ask me something?”

“Er yeah! I was wondering, um… Where do I change into my school clothes? Do you have changing rooms?” the young girl asked shyly, looking down. Severus’s hazel eyes were riveted by the smattering of tiny, russet freckles over Lily’s little nose.

“Yeah but there’s a quicker way.” Severus indicated to Lily’s blue dress “I could have you out of those clothes in a second.”

Lily giggled “My sister would have slapped you for a line like that!”

Severus looked surprised, then realisation, quickly followed by horror, dawned “I didn’t mean…”

“I know!” Lily grinned, pulling out a small set of dark-grey robes with sable embroidery around the hem, neckline and sleeves from her trunk “So, what’s the spell?”

Severus wiggled his wand, dragging it from the clothing to the girl and, suddenly, the robes were on the girl and the dress was on top of the trunk.

“Oh wow! You can cast non-verbal spells!”

“Errrrrrrrrrrr…” Severus was looking, mortified, at the little pair of socks and- oh gods no- knickers on top of the dress. They had a kitten on them.

Lily gasped when she caught sight of them blushing as red as Severus. She turned to look at him, their wide eyes mirroring each other’s horrified, embarrassed expressions.

“I’msosorryIdidn’tmeanto!”

Tears streamed from Lily’s eyes and she doubled over, her breath fast and gasping “Oh, oh no!”

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” Severus cried.

“The funniest thing…”

“Wh… You’re laughing” Severus asked incredulous.

Lily nodded and, grabbing her knickers and socks, ran to the girls bathrooms, pressing a kiss on Severus’s cheek as she passed.

oOoOo

“Hi, is it okay if I sit down?” Severus asked, peeping into a carriage where only one child, a dark-haired boy was sitting, gazing out of the window. He was wearing very expensive green robes and, from what Severus could see of his face, he had good cheekbones and a lofty forehead.

“Free country” the boy replied with a shrug, his eyes still fixed on the scenery.

Severus sat down and, after running a hand to smooth his unruly hair, lest Lily return, pulled out “Quidditch Through the Ages” and started reading. Although he’d mastered the basics of flying, he’d only just managed it before the end of the summer and, therefore, it wouldn’t hurt to impress Papa when he got back.

The book reflected in the mirror and, by degrees, the other boy’s interest gained supremacy over his sulk.

“You like Quidditch?”

Severus looked up into a handsome, aristocratic face “To tell you the truth, I can scarcely fly. Brooms hate me.”

The boy looked at him with a bemused look on his face, which crinkled into a smile. “Honesty. Wow, obviously not a Slyth, are you?”

“I don’t really know what I’ll be” Severus smiled, closing the book “I mean, I love to learn, so I might be a Ravenclaw but my intelligence has a practical bent and I’m quite ambitious, so that might be Slytherin. Gryffindor is also an option but I don’t think I’m quite idealistic or fool-hardy enough to be a proper lion; I have as much common-sense as courage. And although I value fair play and loyalty…”

“Who’d want to be a puffie?” the other boy laughed “You speak like a Professor, old chap, so I bet you’re going into Ravenclaw.”

“Where would you like to go?”

“You are a Black, Sirius, and, therefore, you will be in Slytherin.” Sirius said in a scratchy falsetto, then, in a normal voice “My mother’s a bitch.”

A little shocked at Sirius’s disrespect towards his mother, Severus latched onto his surname. “Black… are you a descendant of Phineas Nigellus?”

“Esteemed Head of Slytherin House and the last decent Headmaster of Hogwarts” Sirius added in the scratchy falsetto. “Yeah!”

“Oh, me too, he cast off my great-grandfather” Severus said stiffly.

“Blacks cast anyone half-decent off, take it as a compliment” huffed Sirius. “I am not going into Slytherin. I won’t! I don’t want to be a vicious, twisted, hateful old thing like my father.”

“So where will you go?” Severus asked, intrigued.

“I dunno. Gryffindor I guess.”

Severus smiled wryly “Might be a bit foolhardy, seeing as the two houses are rivals.”

“Heh, so I’m already Gryff material. Where would you go, if you were me?”

“Well” Severus said thoughtfully “You seem to have realised by yourself that the ‘Toujours Pur’ Blacks don’t have a very nice outlook on life”

“Damn right”

“So you could easily be a Ravenclaw. Of course, if you’re breaking with tradition, you’ll need a solid support system because, well, the Blacks aren’t all that understanding of people who want to be different. The Puffies are loyal, kind and noble-hearted.”

Sirius smirked “Makes sense. By they way, I’m Sirius Orion Black, but I bet you guessed that already.” He put out a hand.

“I’m Severus Roderick Potter” Severus shook Sirius’s hand with the firm yet gentle handshake his father had taught him.

“Um, excuse me?”

“Hi Lily” Severus stood up and smiled at the shy redhead “Come in and take a seat.”

Lily walked in and sat down two seats along from Sirius and opposite Severus, who also sat back down. As Mummy said, a man must always stand when a lady enters the room.

“Sirius, this is Lily, Lily Sirius. And I’m Severus.”

“Severe and serious, oh dear.” Lily said with a smile.

Sirius grinned “By name and not by nature.”

“We were talking about Houses, which do you think you’ll be sorted into?” Severus asked.

“Um, I’m not sure. I mean, McGonagall explained to my parents and me a bit about the House system but she just said I’d be sorted where I was meant to be.”

“Oh, are you from a non-magical background?” Severus asked.

“Yes, the first thing I heard was when Professor McGonagall knocked on our door one Saturday evening. Before then… well, strange things happened sometimes but I didn’t know it was magic.”

“What sort of accidental magic did you perform” Severus asked “I once caused a toy-broom to snap in half. Papa was trying to teach me to fly”

Sirius snorted with laughter.

“Well, brooms don’t like me, I don’t like brooms, fairs fair.” Severus said levelly, with a shrug.

“Um… I disappeared my teacher’s chair when she was mean to me” Lily whispered with a blush.

Sirius grinned “Good for you. Wish I’d done that to my uncle. Probably would have got me beaten though.”

“Your uncle beats you?” Lily gasped.

“Some pureblood families are rather archaic” Severus explained, wincing.

“Being a mud-blood has something going for it then!” Sirius added, lightly.

Severus jumped up, his wand in his hand “Take that back”

“Severus.. wha… what’s going on?” Lily said in a frightened voice.

“Relax, old man. I’m sorry” said Sirius, putting his hands up “That’s what my family calls, y’know, muggleborns. Force of habit.”

Severus sat down stiffly, his wand still held in his clenched fist.

“What’s a mudblood?” Lily asked.

“It’s refers to muggle-borns in much the same way that ‘whore’ is a synonym of ‘mistress’.” snarked Severus.

“It means..!” Lily said, expanding like a tiger puffing up its fur.

“No! No, it’s just a nasty word, okay.” Sirius hastily explained “It doesn’t mean whore. Just, y’know, dirty blood. I’m sorry and I won’t use it again. My parents aren’t all that nice.”

“Well, okay,” said Lily, her green eyes still hard as emeralds.

“Right” said Severus “Houses. There’s Slytherin: practical intelligence, brave but not foolhardy and ambitious, though that doesn’t just relate to status and career, it can mean keeping people you love safe or creating a better world, like my great grandfather.”

“Or being a prejudiced, nasty, vicious old bastard, like my and Severus’ great great grandfather.”

“You’re related?” asked Lily.

“Yeah but we only met today, Sev’s family are the white sheep” laughed Sirius.

Severus rolled his eyes “Then we have Ravenclaw: researchers, scholars and…”

“All around eggheads. Sev’s going to be one for sure” Sirius interrupted.

“Gryffindors, meanwhile are brave, noble and loyal. However, they can also be rather idealistic, seeing the world in black and white, not shades of grey. Not the most logical of houses, either: give a Gryffindor the choice of saving one person now or a hundred later, they’ll always choose the former.”

“Whereas Ravens would coolly let the one die to save the many and the Slyths would laugh as they both died.”

“You’re not giving a very unbiased account, Sirius.”

“Well, she can’t go in with the snakes, they’d eat her alive.”

“I can stand up for myself, thanks!” huffed Lily.

“And Gryffindork it is. That’s where I’m going; the land of the stupidly brave and bravely stupid.” Sirius chortled “Seriously, don’t go in Slyth just to spite us, okay?”

Lily sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Finally, Hufflepuff: loyal, generous, kind-hearted and noble.”

“Sounds pretty good” said Lily

“Yeah but Puff is considered a bit wet.” Said Sirius with a sigh “Still, I should probably aim for them, if I have an ounce of self-preservation.”

Lily looked sympathetic “I know how hard it can be, having a family member… My sister Tuney… We used to be really close, close as any sisters but, when she found out that I had magic and she didn’t…”

Sirius nodded solemnly “Not good. My brother Reggie is like that, snotty little twat: thinks I don't have enough family pride!”

Lily nodded, turning her face away.

“But, look, we’re going to Hogwarts!” Severus said, in a desperately cheerful voice “I’ve heard that the school has the most extensive library in Wizarding Britain.”

“And the opening feast is supposed to be absolutely amazing: chips and roast potatos and lots of meat and sauces and gravy. The puddings often take up the entire house table, with scarcely room enough to put your plate.”

Lily smiled, blinking away her tears, Severus and Sirius were a very odd pair.

oOoOo

The sorting was just as magical as Severus had hoped. After a really amazing boat trip across the lake, on whose black waters the moon and stars shone, they had arrived at the beautiful, turreted castle and been ushered into the entrance hall. A strict looking woman had coaxed them into line before a spindly little stool upon which sat a positively ancient hat, the Sorting Hat, from the song it had just sung. Severus took a peek at Lily, smiling at her open, enraptured face. He hoped she’d go into Puff: they’d be most likely to ensure that wonder and delight did not dwindle into feelings of inferiority and alienation.

“Black Sirius” the woman, some people were saying she was Professor McGonagall, called.

Giving Severus and Lily a shy thumbs up, Sirius loped to the stool and yanked the hat over his head. Barely half a second later, it yelled ‘Gryffindor”.

Severus shrugged, smiling wryly and walked over to the cheering Gryff table, humming a few bars of the funeral march as he passed Severus, who giggled. A boy with lank black hair, sallow skin and sharp black eyes glared at him.

A couple more students were sorted and then “Evans Lily”

“Wish me luck” Lily whispered

“Good luck- it’ll be fine.” Severus called softly.

The hat spent somewhat longer deciding with Lily before saying “Well, my dear, if you’re sure, Hufflepuff!”

Severus clapped, beaming. A nasty snide voice behind him said “What’s there to clap about? I’d leave if they tried to put me in Puff.” Severus, knowing that someone was out for an argument, decided to ignore him: what good would getting into a fight do for him?

When it was finally Severus’s turn to be Sorted, he was slightly surprised when the hat actually spoke inside his head. “You’ve got a very fine mind, my boy”

“Thank you” Severus replied, a little awestruck.

“Oh, yes. I can talk to you. Bet you’re already wondering how it’s done, hmm?”

“Yes, Mummy says I’m too inquisitive for my own good.”

“Well, my dear boy, I’m seriously considering Ravenclaw or Slytherin. You’re a loyal, kind-hearted boy with a fine sense of justice, but I don’t think Gryffindor or Hufflepuff will do for you.”

“I think I’d prefer Ravenclaw; I’m not a blood-supremacist and I’ve already got friends in Gryff and Puff and, really, I’d rather be studying than having to fight my corner all the time.”

“Ha! Just what I wanted to hear, logic! Ravenclaw!”

Severus strode over to the clapping Ravenclaw table, sitting down beside a fair-haired boy and smiling over at Lily, who was happily chatting to a few little Hufflepuffs, who seemed to have taken her under their wings.

“It’s Prince, not Snape. And I’m Jimmy, right?!” Severus’s head jerked towards the snarling voice, the same voice that had given the taunt about Hufflepuff.

Professor McGonagall looked rather taken aback but, on a signal from Dumbledore, held her peace and offered the hat to the boy, who snatched it.

“Slytherin!”

“Am I ever glad that I chose Ravenclaw” Severus whispered to his neighbour, as the Ravenclaw table filled with delicacies, each with a little tab telling their country of origin and history.

“Too right, mate. Pass the paella, please”

oOoOo

From the Desk of Professor Filius Flitwick. Charms M(hons). Defence M(hons).

Dear Mr and Mrs Potter,

I am simply delighted to welcome young Severus Potter into Ravenclaw although, I confess, we are rather running low on things he doesn’t already know! Young Severus’ tutors have been telling me what a delight your son is to teach and, indeed, how impressed they are not only by his mind but with his interactions with others. Ravenclaw is a scholarly set, we tend to become absorbed in our own thoughts, but young Severus definitely has the common touch and has amassed three good friends and a dozen or so pleasant acquaintances already.

Severus has expressed an interest in learning Duelling and Mind Magic, as a Duelling champion, myself, I would be delighted to teach your son the art and Professor Slughorn, an accomplished Legilimens, is very enthusiastic about showing young Severus the basics of Mind Magic. With your consent, we will arrange lessons on Saturday and Sunday mornings, from nine am to 11 am.

Yours Sincerely, Filius Flitwick.

oOoOo

“Merlin, that James Snape gets on my nerves” Sirius grumped, kicking the ground. “He’s so full of crap, always going on about how purebloods and halfbloods are superior to muggleborns. He’s dead nasty.”

“Sirius, ignore him” Severus said, turning a leaf of his heavy book.

“Yeah but…”

“Look, Sirius, if pummelling the racist twats worked, they’d all be cured now.” Lily said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah but he’s such a git” Sirius turned his attentions on a dandelion clock, kicking the fluff away “He’s always on about how he’s the best chaser Slyth ever had! And he gels his hair to make it look like he’s just got off a broom! The twazzock!”

“Sirius, how many times do we have to tell you…” Remus sighed.

“Yeah, I know. Freedom of Speech, he has a right to be as much of an arsehole as he likes provided he doesn’t infringe on our rights.” Sirius groaned, paraphrasing Severus’s normal lecture.

“After all, you don’t want to end up an intolerant, bullying bitch like James”

“I’d never…” Sirius spluttered

“Same modus operandi, old chap: one cannot oppress those who don’t comply with one’s ideal in one breath, then complain that the other side is victimising those who don’t comply with their ideal in the next.” Severus added

“I guess. But he really gets on my nerves.”

Lily patted Sirius’s arm, saying in a mock-consoling voice “There, there Siri.”

“Naff off!” Sirius laughed.

oOoOo

“Remus, can I talk to you a moment?” Severus asked, indicating an empty classroom.

“Yeah, sure” the second year said amiably. Sirius, while being Remus’s best mate, was often hard work, so it was nice to hang out with Sev, who didn’t need a responsible supervisor to check him every moment of the day.

“Listen, Remus,” Severus said solemnly, sitting on the edge of the desk and casting a quick muffliato “firstly I want you to know that what I’ve discovered doesn’t change things between us, I mean, I feel sorry for you, it must have been so difficult to live like this, but it doesn’t change you in my eyes, not in a material way. And the only reason I’m saying anything is because, well, I think it must be jolly awful to live in fear all the time.”

Remus’s tanned face paled to a deathly white “You know..?”

“I’ve realised that you’re a werewolf, yes. You are always ill on the full moon so, really, it stands to reason. Not to mention that the whomping willow was planted on the year we started Hogwarts, it’s always struck me as a strange installation, considering how deadly it is. I figure that it covers a secret passageway?”

“Please don’t tell anyone!”

“You know me better than that, Remus. Um… you always look a bit… roughed up when you get back.”

“It’s the wolf… It doesn’t have humans to savage so it bites and scratches itself. Madam Pomfrey heals me but…” Remus shook his head.

“I quite understand. Look, I’m going to do some research and see what I come up with. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

oOoOo

“And this is my particular favourites, the Elgin Marbles. Isn’t the carving just exquisite?” Severus said, tucking a strand of unruly hair behind his ear

“Sirius get down!” Remus called to his incorrigible friend, who was sitting atop Anubis.

“Naff off, Dad! I’m riding the grim!”

Severus rolled his eyes, sighed and turned back to Lily “When the barbarians, probably people somewhat like our dear Sirius, destroyed the Parthenon, the locals were going to grind these down for road surfacing, so Lord Elgin gave them the equivalent amount of stone and took the marbles.”

“Still, I think it’s pretty hard on the Greeks that they were never given back” Lily countered “Elgin did get his money's worth out of them before he donated them. If he ever paid the government for them at all.”

“Well, we all know that history is written by the winners…”

“Hey! Get down from there this minute, young man, or I’ll tan yer behind!”

Severus sighed. He simply couldn’t Sirius anywhere.

oOoOo

/Hello Shadow/

/Hello Moony. How are you this fine, moonlit evening?/

/Not too bad./ the werewolf replied, curling up on the gnawed, threadbare bed. The black akita joined him.

/Not hurt, are you?/ Severus said, nosing the smaller wolf’s head.

/No, the madness doesn’t start until I’ve been alone for a couple of hours/

/Wolves are pack animals; their hunger for company, rather than hunger for human flesh, causes the desperation/ the hazel eyed dog said sagely /It is a shame that De Marcie’s book on Lycanthropy is but a rare volume/

/Yeah. Who’d have thought that transformed werewolves and Animagi could be pack?/

/Well, it’s entirely possible that the first werewolves were wizards whose attempts to become Animagi failed rather tragically/ Severus said, resting his broad muzzle companionably over Remus’s neck. /Night Moony/

/Night Shadow and… thanks/

/You’re welcome/

oOoOo

Severus patted Lily on the back “Shush. Come on, Lil, don’t let him get to you.”

“My dress robes are ruined. Totally ruined! And the Yule ball is tomorrow” Lily sobbed. The girls from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had decided to have a dress rehersal, so they could check that none of their robes clashed. James Snape had found out somehow and the nasty little bugger furnished Peeves with permanent-ink filled balloons, on the promise that he’d only aim for the mudbloods.

Sirius was out hunting the little bastard now. And Remus was following Sirius, trying to catch him in time to prevent an insident. Thank Merlin full moon had only been a day ago, so his senses were still very sharp.

“Look, Lily. You’re easily the prettiest girl here. I’ll find you something, okay? There must be a charm to transfigure clothes somewhere. Let’s go to the library.”

Lily pressed her cheek against Severus’s “Thank you.”

oOoOo

“Could you sink any lower, Potter? Taking a mudblood to the Yule ball- couldn’t find anyone half-decent, I suppose? ”

“Excuse us, Mr Snape.” Severus said ushering Lily past the sneering boy with, his arm tightly around her waist.

“I guess she must put out, like all mudblood whores.”

Severus stopped dead and, without turning around, stiffly said “Tomorrow, Flitwick’s office. Let’s settle this like gentlemages.”

“A duel?” the dark eyed boy said with a sneering laugh “Whose your second?”

“Lily Evans.”

“What?!”

“Indeed, please excuse us.”

The skirt of Lily’s blue, taffeta and chiffon dress, flowed and fluted as she and Severus danced that night, the little blue stones on her bodice sparkling in the candle-light. That night, Lily decided to marry Severus. All she had to do was to convince him that she was more interesting than Potions.

oOoOo

“Well, gentlemen, I must say that it’s a refreshing change to have a formal, teacher supervised duel rather than all these scuffles” Flitwick glared at James Snape, who sneered back. “No Hexes or Curses. Stick to jinxes, am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir”

“Whatever.”

Severus, sighing at James’ sheer bad manners, bowed with a respect that he was sure that his opponent didn’t deserve. Severus respected himself, however, and he respected his teacher and he’d be damned if some oik made him forget that.

“On three, boys one… two…”

James cast a Furnunculus but Severus, who had noted the look in his opponents eyes, quickly shielded and cast expelliarmus.

James’ wand flew into Severus’ hand and, enraged, James leapt at the slighter, weaker-looking Severus. He was very surprised to be tackled to the ground by a huge, muscular black dog.

“Good show, good show. I think Severus has won the duel. Come on, boy; off you get.” Flitwick patted Shadow’s shoulder, keeping a weather eye-and his wand- on James, lest the boy was unsporting in his desire for revenge.

Lily smiled as the large black dog trotted to her side, laying James’ wand at her feet before changing back into a young man again.

“How come you never told me you could do that?!” Lily said, half-scolding, half-delighted.

“He promised me, my dear, when I taught him” smiled Professor Flitwick “The Animagus charm is high level magic and, while many desire it, few can accomplish the transformation.”

“Oh, can I try to learn! Please” Lily begged.

“What makes you think you can learn, Mudblood?” James spat, getting to his feet.

“I think that’s a months worth of detentions, Mr Snape, for foul language and your blatant disrespect.” Professor Flitwick said coolly, before turning back to Lily. “We can talk this later, my dear. You may inform Mr Black and Mr Lupin.”

James shot a sharp look at Flitwick, grinning nastily.

“Now, Severus, Lily, off you trot. Not you, Mr Snape, we are going to have a word with the Headmaster.”

oOoOo

On a hill, carpeted with soft grass, daisies and celandines, under a warm, blue summers sky, a russet wolf, a pretty, auburn Afghan hound and two black dogs; one stately, with the pointed ears and demeanour of Anubis, the other, a woolly Leonburger, joyously chasing butterflies.

/Ten Outstandings. I knew you’d come top of the year/ Shimmer, the Afghan hound, yapped, nosing the Akita’s cheek.

/Two E’s though/ said Shadow ruefully, pawing his letter from the exam board

Padfoot barrelled into him, playfully wrestling Severus to the ground/Oh woe is you. Shadow. Twelve OWLs and you didn’t get all O’s. Shame on you, Shadow, shame on you/

/Budge off/ barked Moony, entering the fray and pushing Padfoot off his prostrate victim. It appeared that werewolves could become animagi, provided they didn’t mind their transformation being a wolf.

/Are you going to take everything next year too?/ Shimmer asked, tilting her pretty head.

/No, even with a time turner, it’s pretty stressful/ sighed Shadow /I mean, I gave myself extra time for sleep and study but it’s worrying, always looking over your shoulder to see if someone’s noticed you’re literally in two places at once./

/So, what are you taking, aside from Potions?/

Shadow gave a bark of laughter /Defence, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Charms and Transfiguration/

/I’m doing Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Defence, Herbology, Charms and Transfiguration/ barked Padfoot /Want to be an Auror/

/Me too, though I’m going to do Arithmancy instead of Care of Magical Creatures/

/Cos you already know how to look after yourself, Moony?/

/Thanks, Padfoot, just thanks/ the wolf sighed, rolling his blue eyes.

/Welcome. Actually, thinking about it, I might do Muggle Studies to piss of the parents. Damn, it’s great living with Shadow; I can be as much of an ass as I like and, when Regulus informs on me, they can’t do the slightest thing about it/ the big dog relaxed back against the ground, soaking up the summer sunbeams /I wish I’d got myself disowned sooner/

/How about you, Shimmer/ Shadow asked solicitously.

/Herbology, Potions, Ancient Runes, Charms, Astronomy and Transfiguration/ Shimmer said, laying her muzzle over Shadow’s neck.

/It might be wise to continue with Defence, Shimmer. Some of the Slytherins, Snape, Avery, Mulciber, etc are making strange comments and mentioning a ‘Lord’: I don’t like the looks in their eyes, nor the asides of ridding our world of the ‘unworthy’/

/There are no wizarding Lords, Shadow/ Padfoot said, lying on the grass, scratching his back.

/That is why it troubles me, Paddy. The only lords in our world tend to be Dark Lords/

oOoOo

“Lily?”

“Yes Severus?”

“Um… As head-boy and, er, having come top of the year, Dumbledore wants me to make a speech” Severus said, ushering the pretty sixteen year old into an empty classroom.

“Oh, pre-speech nerves?” The teenage girl asked, straightening her sunlight yellow Alumnus robes.

“Nerves, yes, but not about the speech” Severus said, his hazel eyes earnest. “Lily Aurora Evans” he got down on one knee “Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”

Severus pulled out a large walnut shell, sanded, varnished and hinged to form a beautiful wooden box, inside, on a bed of black velvet, was a golden ring with a large, cushion-cut emerald, flanked on either side with smaller peridots.

Lily fell to her knees and hugged Severus tightly. Many men would have asked their fiancés to be during their speech, leaving them, potentially, in an embarrassing situation. However, there was no question as to what Lily’s answer would be.

“Yes, Severus, yes!”

“The activities of the self-styled Lord Voldemort?” Severus asked, raising a sable eyebrow.

“Indeed, Mr Potter. Over the last ten years a rather gifted but, unfortunately, highly amoral wizard, Lord Voldemort, has been gathering an army, the Deatheaters, with the intention of nothing less than overthrowing the Ministry of Magic, ousting the Statute of secrecy and casting muggleborns into slavery.”

A handsome, red-haired man at Dumbledore’s right spoke “There are signs that Voldemort is stepping up his attack; his rise over the last ten years has been marked with several dozen disappearances and murders but, now, it seems, he is growing confident. We have increasingly found the dark mark, a skull intertwined with a serpent, above the victims' houses.”

“Very true, Fabian” said the balding man on Dumbledore’s left side “Many of you know me” he looked at Sirius and Remus “but, for those who don’t, my name is Barty Crouch and I am the Head of the Auror Department. Over the last few months, we have been seeing a marked rise in muggle-baiting but, overstretched and under-resourced as we are, we are finding it difficult to effectively counter this… this wizard. And, moreover, the Ministry is rather against a more aggressive show of defence. They don’t want to worry people.”

“They’d rather they just got burnt in their beds” sneered Sirius.

“Mr Black, that was a pertinent comment!” Mr Crouch snapped.

“I think you meant impertinent, Sir” Severus added, his arm resting on the back of Lily’s chair.

Crouch fixed him with a beady eye “I know exactly what I meant, Mr Potter. Now, Albus and I run a little group, designed to combat the Deatheaters. I will not lie to you, if you join us, you will be in gravest danger. However, we, as a society, are but inches from being crushed under the heel of tyranny and, if no one fights, we all will fall.”

“We’re definitely for it, right Remy?” Sirius said.

“Definitely”

Severus nodded, crossing his arms “I’m in. I suppose you could use an Unspeakable?”

Lily looked at her husband before saying “Two Unspeakables, I’m joining too.”

In the end, most of the table joined: the Order of the Phoenix gaining many of the brightest feathers of the age.

oOoOo

Yet, in the Serpents Lair, a feather which, while once bright, had been stained as the years passed until it was as black as ink, shimmered.

“James, my child, you asked and your Lord has given. Your muggle father and blood-traitor mother, those who brought you into this world only to scorn, neglect and denigrate you, are dead.” A pale, skeletal hand held out a shimmering bottle of memories to his kneeling servant. “Their screams, with my compliments”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Now, James Prince, your Lord has a mission for you.”

“Yes, master?”

“I request that you join the staff of Dumbledore, the Potions Master, Slughorn, is retiring and, as I aided you in obtaining your Mastery, I can think of no better use than for you to become a master in your alma mater, to ingratiate yourself with Dumbledore and incubating the next generation of Deatheaters.”

“You wish me to spy, my Lord?

“Indeed.”

“Thank you, my Lord, I am honoured in your faith in me.”

“You are welcome, James. Do not fail me.”

oOoOo

“Hello, Severus, you said you had some news for me?” said Remus, entering Severus’s comfortable, walnut and sage-leather furnished office.

“Ah, yes. It’s finished.” Severus plonked a crystal decanter onto the table, which was filled with a smoking, blue-grey potion.

“What’s finished?” Remus asked, daring not to hope.

“My little pet project, Wolfwane potion: it wanes the power of the werewolf, protecting the human mind from the transformation.”

“You mean you managed it?” Remus asked, torn between incredulity, joy and awe. “It’ll make me safe?”

“100%, the Department helped me test it.” Severus smirked “Based it off a potion in a Saxon grimoire, one designed to curse the victim with the mind of a wolf. Very nasty. I just had to work out which constituents to change; Wolfsbane instead of Red Cap Mushrooms, etcetera. 'Slug and Jiggers' have promised you a lifetime supply if I’ll give them sole distribution rights.”

oOoOo

“I would like to propose a toast; to my beautiful wife Lily Aurora Potter who, I am proud to inform you, is carrying the Potter heir?” Severus said, his arm around Lily’s shoulders and a smile of pure joy playing around his lips.

“Here! Here! Three cheers for Shadow and Shimmer!” yelled Sirius who, since being the best man at Severus’s wedding, had taken it upon himself to be Master of Ceremonies ever since “Come on everyone Hip! Hip! Hurrah!”

Remus rolled his eyes and, with a smirk towards Severus, tugged Sirius off to replenish their drinks.

“I am so pleased for you my dears!” Lucy Potter said, coming up and taking Lily’s hand.

“You think this one will like Quidditch, what?” Jargo grinned, jabbing Severus with a playful elbow.

“Oh, quiet Jargo. Twelve O.W.Ls, seven Outstanding N.E.W.Ts, the youngest ever Head of Division, yet all you harp on about is your bloody broomstick” said Lucy, waving a finger under Jargo’s nose in mock-fury.

“Just like any other guy!” called out Sirius, who could sniff out an opportunity for innuendo at twenty yards.

“Mr Black! You’re not too old to go over my knee”

“So” Lucy said, turning back to the happy couple “When is my grandchild due?”

“Late July, mother.” Severus said laying a gentle hand on Lily’s stomach.

oOoOo

James Prince knelt listening to Dumbledore interviewing his Divination Candidate, a mad, drunken old hag from what he could tell of her. Spying often was pretty boring, in truth, but James was willing to do anything for his Lord, even if it meant listening to insane witches gabble.

Suddenly, the woman’s voice changed "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...”

“Petrificus totalis!”

James fell with a thump. Aberforth clumped up and grabbed him by the collar before knocking on the door.

Albus Dumbledore opened the door, looking slightly pale and shaken.

“Got sommun who were listening ter ya.” Aberforth thrust James inert form at Dumbledore “An clear orf outta my pub sharpish, okay?”

Albus sighed and nodded “Of course, Aberforth. Thank you.”

“Well, Mr Snape?” Albus asked, casting finite.

“It’s Prince” the boy said with a sneer, straightening up.

“Well, Mr Prince.”

“That old lunatic jumped me! I was just trying to work out which room was mine!”

“You were never that good a liar, James.”

“Look, you can fuck off, right. You’re no longer my Headmaster and I can say and do as I like.” The boy spat. “Now back off or else I’ll call the Aurors.” The young man stamped down the landing, heading for the stairs.

“James, it is never too late…”

The boy turned, his black eyes burning like brimstone “For you it is, old man. For you it is.”

oOoOo

“It’s going to be okay, Lily dear! Deep breaths”

“I waaant to go to St Mungooos!” wailed Lily.

“It’s not safe, my darling” Severus whispered, stroking her hair. “Molly are you sure I can’t give her anything for the pain? I’ve got a wide variety of painkillers…”

“No, Severus, it’s too dangerous. Hold her hand dear!”

Lily gave another shriek.

“Molly, surely?!”

“No, this is how it goes, I should know, I’ve got six children!”

Severus stroked Lily’s hair with a shaking hand.

“Come on Lily, we’re almost there!” Molly encouraged.

“I’ve been almost there for ages!” yelled Lily, her face as red as her hair.

“Push!”

oOoOo

Three hours later, all was quiet in the Godric’s Hollow safehouse. Lily was asleep on the freshly made bed, Molly and Arthur were snoozing in armchairs by the fire and Severus was outside, enjoying the warm, summer evening, with his newborn son on his knee.

“Look, Harry. Can you see the doggie in the stars? That bright one just there is Sirius, like your godfather. And there, can you see the wolf? That’s your uncle Remus. ”

The baby opened his eyes, which shone greener than the brightest of emeralds, and gazed at his father. Severus felt an awful tightness in his chest. Every atom of his being whimpering as he felt the heavy hand of fate on his precious son, child of the woman he loved beyond life itself.

“Oh Harry” Severus hugged the child, placing a tender hand over the fragile newborn’s head “What is to become of you?”

“And, apparently, children learn about a third of their eventual, adult vocabulary by the time they are five!” Severus said, a thick tome on language acquisition lying open on his lap. “It’s fascinating how, even now, Harry is learning the structure and lexis of English.

“So, godson of mine, how many words has your big, clever Daddy been cramming into that poor little head of yours” cooed Sirius, gently picking the infant out of his carry-cot and stroking the child's tiny head, which was already covered with dark down.

“Probably more than you’ve learnt in twenty years” grinned Remus.

“Ah” Harry said seriously, gazing at Sirius with big, serious green eyes.

Lily giggled “That’s putting you in your place, Siri.”

“So, my godson’s a little genius in the making, hmm” Sirius laughed. Harry, delighted at the happy sounds his family were making, chuckled and cooed.

“I don’t think he quite comprehends that much, yet” Severus smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “However, as we cannot safely leave the house, I intend to use this time to give Harry every advantage.”

“Poor kid!” sighed Sirius, carefully handing Harry back to Lily “He’s going to be worse than Sev was by the time he’s eleven.”

“Oi!” Lily called from the sitting-room “Don’t think that, just because I’m nursing Harry, I can’t hex you, Sirius Orion Black.”

“Well, Sirius, I am sure that, as his godfather, you will set Harry a shining example” Severus said, with a slight smile “After all, you have over a decade’s experience of being an incorrigible eleven year old.”

oOoOo

“I am very disappointed, James Snape. I confess myself very disappointed indeed.” Voldermort walked around the twitching, prostate man, his heavy silk robes shushing around his feet. When the edge of the garment touched the figure, it whimpered.

“I made my hopes quite clear to you, James Snape; you were to ingratiate yourself with Dumbledore, earn the old fool’s trust and a place in his school and yet, when he offered to welcome you back into the fold, when he gave you the opportunity to fulfil my orders on a golden platter, you chose to spit in his face. Yes, James Snape, I am very, very deeply disappointed.

And, if this was not treachery, and yes, I call it treachery, Snape, for your loyalty should be not to yourself but to me and me alone, you foolishly allowed the inn-keeper, a lowly, untalented, uneducated man, to capture you, thereby giving Dumbledore advance warning. I have thus far been unable to locate the Longbottoms or the Potters, Snape. I am most seriously displeased.”

“Please…”

“You dare beg for your life, you insolent half-breed?” Voldemort kicked James in the ribs, a vicious smile tightening his lips as a bone cracked.

“Am…ends… a chan…ce…to ma…ke amends, Lord” whimpered the man “I li..ve to ser…ve y…ou”

“Very well," Voldemort snarled "you shall have one last chance, Snape. You have displeased me greatly, so listen well for I will not tolerate further disobedience. You will run to Dumbledore and tell him that I am hunting the Evans girl and I plan to kill her and her family. Avery tells me that, you had a little crush on her at Hogwarts?”

“Nooooo. Mu…dbl..ood. Never looked a…t ‘er!”

“Nevertheless, you will convince Dumbledore that you did, indeed, fall very deeply in love with Lily Potter and you will beg him to help her.  The old fool will buy it, he thinks that love makes the world go around” Voldemort sneered “You will be pathetically thankful, swear whatever needs to be sworn and get yourself into his favour, do you understand me.”

“Yesss!” James whimpered, burning with shame at the prospect of his degradation.

“I will have the Potters and Longbottoms within my grasp by the year’s end, Snape, or you will again feel my displeasure.”

oOoOo

“Harry, look. Ba-na-na. Yel-low ba-na-na.” Severus said holding the fruit out to his chubby, infant son. Harry patted the banana and squealed, his emerald eyes alight with interest.

“Ba-na-na for Harry” Severus peeled the fruit and picked up a plastic bowl “bowl for Harry. Bo-wl. Daddy puts the ba-na-na *in* the bo-wl and takes fork” Severus showed Harry the fork “*Ma-sh-ing* the ba-na-na for Harry.”

Harry clapped his hands, he liked this game.

“Now pe-ar. Gre-en pe-ar. Daddy takes knife and pe-els the pe-ar for Harry. Pear goes *in* the bo-wl. Daddy mash-es pe-ar and ba-na-na.”

“Ah ah” Harry squeaked, jiggling in his seat “Ah-ah”

“Well done! Clever Harry!” Severus cried, kissing the child dark curls “Ba-na-na!”

“Ah ah”

“Now Daddy puts sp-oo-n *in* hon-ey” Severus gently dapped a spot of honey on Harry’s lip and the infant’s green eyes widened at the sudden sweetness “Yummy! Hon-ey is sweet. Sp-oo-n of hon-ey goes in-to the bo-wl. Daddy st-irs ba-na-na, pe-ar and hon-ey. All done. Time for Harry’s su-pper!”

“How is our little potioneer progressing” smiled Lily, walking into the kitchen rubbing her damp red hair with a towel.

“Very well” Severus said dryly “I believe he has a good basic knowledge of technique and ingredients. However, as to understanding the purpose of our little experiment, I believe Harry is somewhat uncertain. He has thus far tried using it as shampoo, face-paint and, naturally, as a ballistic weapon. I fear that Harry will never comprehend that it is meant to be ingested.”

“I’m sure he’ll work it out eventually, Sev.” Lily laughed. Her face became serious “Is it true, do you think, that Dumbledore has hired Snape? I mean, if I was to earmark any student as a deatheater…”

“Yes, I know.” sighed Severus, spooning pulped fruit into Harry’s mouth “However, Remus was not entirely certain as to the veracity of his sources. It may be just a rumour.”

“Bloody strange rumour.” said Lily, putting the kettle on the hob with a thump “Snape may have been an ignorant little toerag but he had some smarts; he’s quite capable of charming when he wants to, you know. At the Institute, he was quite well liked by the teachers.”

Severus nodded “Try not to worry overmuch, Lily. The house is hidden by the fidelus charm; even if Voldemort had his nearly non-existent nose pressed against our window, he could not find us…”

oOoOo

“My Lord, I have wonderful news!”

“Indeed, Pettigrew?” Voldemort asked, cradling Nagini’s beautiful but deadly head in his hand. Peter Pettigrew, the little brown-noser that he was, tended to exaggerate. He was usefully placed, however, and, therefore, Voldemort tolerated him. To an extent.

“I overheard last night, after the Order meeting, I heard Bones name the Potters' Secret Keeper! It’s Lupin! Remus Lupin!”

Voldemort straightened up “Very good, Peter. This is, indeed, useful information. You have done well.”

“My Lord” ventured James, shuffling forward.

“Snape?”

“My Lord, I also have information. The Potters are visited by Molly and Arthur Weasley, Sirius Black, Bathilda Bagshot and, naturally, Dumbledore. If I may, I would advise either targeting the old woman or the Weasleys.”

“Indeed, after Lupin is killed, we will have a margin of mere hours before the Potters flee.” Voldemort said, stroking his chin “I will consider the matter further.”

oOoOo

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Harry, Happy birthday to you!”

“Caa!” Harry clapped, his large, emerald eyes sparkling in the candlelight “Daa! Mumu! Caa!”

“Yes, Harry, cake!” Severus smiled.

“Ca-ke s-li-ce!” Sirius said, imitating Severus’s clear, careful enunciation “pa-p-er pl-ate”

“Srus! Caa!” Harry grinned, smashing a fist into his piece of cake, then licked his icing and jam besmeared hand “Mmm goo caa!”

“Smile everyone!” Remus called, snapping another photo of the little family.

“Mmm goo caaa, indeed puppy!” grinned Sirius, biting into his own slice. “How’s he finding the broom?”

“He’s a natural” Severus smiled ruefully “We’ve had a difficult time persuading him to get off it.”

“Atta boy, Harry!” Sirius cheered, clapping.

“Hawwy!” the infant chirped “Fwy bwoo!”

Lily laughed and kissed her son’s soft, pink cheek.

Severus shook his head “He almost killed poor Catherine. Knocked her tail over paws. I’ve set the maximum height to a foot, now.”

"You're daddy is a spoilsport Harry" sighed Sirius.

"Spoospoo" the infant cooed.

Remus chuckled and sat down beside Lily “I fear Sirius’s influence might just be a tad too strong.”

"Oh, well. We knew what we were letting ourselves in for when we adopted Siri" the beautiful redhead smiled over at Severus, who was smirking at Sirus's imitation of Harry. "How are things with the lovely Keira?"

Remus blushed, scrubbing at his chestnut hair "Pretty brilliant, actually. I, er, told her last week about my, um, furry little problem. She's still interested" he added, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Of course she would be" Lily grinned "I'm so pleased for you, Remy. She seems a really nice girl."

oOoOo

“I have been… tolerably content with your service, Snape; you have proved yourself capable of a degree of discretion and intelligence and have, thus far, discharged your duties adequately. Therefore, I will allow you the pleasure of killing Lupin. Avery will accompany you.”

OoOoO

“Why are you doing this! We cannot tell you that they live in Godric’s Hollow!” cried Arthur Weasley, struggling against his captors’ arms. “Oh no…”

Molly, who had withstood the cruciatus without a tear, broke down and wept.

“Yes, indeed” sneered Mulciber “The Potters’ secret-keeper is dead. Now, Weasley, are you going to tell me just where in Godric’s Hollow the Potters are, or do I have to go upstairs and bring down one of your children?”

oOoOo

Severus had felt somewhat strange all afternoon. His left wrist ached, a bone deep soreness which only assuaged when he held his walnut wand. He was tense, irritable. He could not concentrate on housework, books, even dear little Harry. He found himself being impatient with the child, unusually, unnecessarily sharp. Severus had, eventually reduced the toddler to tears and Lily, who was never the most placid of women, had picked up Harry and stormed upstairs in high dudgeon.

So, that Halloween evening, Severus found himself hovering around the front of the house, nerves stretched to breaking point. He knew he was being foolish: only muggle children feared ghosts and monsters on this night. True, there were indeed vampires and werewolves, ghosts around, not to mention many other creatures far more deserving of the title ‘monsters’. Yet Severus knew these beings were abroad every day and, as a powerful Wizard, he had nothing to fear from them.

Severus sat on the stairs with a sigh. He wondered, idly, whether it was true that the void between worlds was, indeed, weaker today. Something or someone seemed to whisper ‘beware.”

The door flew open and, in one movement Severus was on his feet “Expelliarmus!” he screamed, slashing his wand at the intruder, “Sectumsempra!”

A white head rolled at Severus’s feet, its red eyes empty and mouth gaping open in an expression of shock. Voldemort was dead.

DAILY PROPHET

*Special Evening Edition*

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is DEAD!

The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that, tonight, You-Know-Who, the most evil wizard in living memory, was killed at the home of Ministry of Magic executive Severus Roderick Potter, 21.

Mr Potter, who is the youngest Head of Spell Development at the Ministry of Magic for over 126 years, went into hiding last year with his wife, Lily, and young son, Harry, upon receiving intelligence of He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named intent to kill the young family. Although Mr and Mrs Potter’s home in Godric’s Hollow, named after the famed Hogwarts founder, Godric Gryffindor, was placed under the Fidelus Charm, their Secret Keeper, Auror Remus John Lupin, was murdered earlier this evening and the Deatheaters, You-Know-Who’s henchmen, tortured an unnamed individual who had been privy to the Potters’ location into disclosing the Potter’s whereabouts.

However, if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named believed that victory was at hand when he arrived at Godric’s Hollow, he was to meet with the greatest and final surprise of his life. Mr Potter, who was standing in the front hallway of the safe-house, disarmed and beheaded the dark wizard before he could cross the threshold, using a spell of the Ministry Head’s own invention, which cuts flesh as if the caster’s wand was a sword.

Tonight, Mr Potter, a Ravenclaw, who was Head-Boy and came top of his year at Hogwarts with seven Outstanding N.E.W.Ts and twelve OWLs, ten of which were Outstandings, issued the following statement:

“Voldemort is dead and while it is natural to wish to celebrate, I ask that it be remembered that this victory has been won at an overwhelming cost. Many witches and wizards have lost their lives in the war against Voldemort and, last night, Remus John Lupin, a brave, good and decent man, joined their number, murdered for no other reason than that his decision to risk his life to protect myself and my family. Remus Lupin leaves behind grieving parents and a devastated fiancée, whose only consolation is that it appears that his death was quick, unexpected and painless. Lily, Sirius and I will never cease to mourn Remus, whose kindness, gentle, dry sense of humour and solid reliability made him a friend to treasure. Remus will be buried at a private service in Diagon Temple next Wednesday evening; any donations or flowers should be sent to St Mungos Hospital.

I would also like to note that, during tonight’s tragic events, a decent, kind and upstanding witch was seriously injured by prolonged exposure to the cruciatus curse. Lily and I send our fondest regards and best wishes to her and her family and hope for a swift recovery. Thank you.”

As editor of the Daily Prophet, I, Mungus Digglesworth, would like to extend my thanks, on behalf of the Daily Prophet and, indeed, the entire wizarding population, to the exceptionally modest, heroic and inspiring Mr Potter- or, as some people are already calling him, the ‘Saviour’- for ridding the world of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

oOoOo

“Mr Black, I am aware that you wish to apprehend the, mmh, people who murdered Mr Lupin but I simply cannot sanction it.”

“Barty, I..!”

“No, Mr Black. I am well aware that you were very close to Mr Lupin and, therefore, it would be, hmh, wholly inappropriate for you be present at the sting. You are in no fit state…”

“I don’t care what state I am in, you bastard! I’ve got to be there!” Sirius shouted, tears streaming down his pale, tired face.

“You are on compassionate leave until further notice, Mr Black.” said Bartemius Crouch, stiffly, standing up “Albus, please ensure that he remains on Hogwarts grounds.”

“Yes, of course” the Headmaster replied, gently placing an arm around Sirius’s quaking shoulders.

“I should have been there for him, Albus!” Sirius moaned “I…It’s my fault! I told Sev to make Remus Secret-keeper!”

“Come, my boy. If anyone is at fault, it is me” Dumbledore sighed “I should have offered myself as secret keeper.”

“Why didn’t you then?!” sobbed Sirius.

“I am old, my boy.” Dumbledore explained sadly “Voldemort may not be able to defeat me in battle, but, at my age, I walk with death every day. I thought it possible that Severus and Lily would need to remain in hiding for many years.”

There was a quiet knock.

“Yes, yes, come in, do.” The door into Albus’s private quarters opened and Lily stumbled out, her face blotchy and tearstained, supported by Severus who, pale, drawn and rigid, seemed to only remain upright by sheer force of will. Since Voldemort’s destruction, Severus, Lily and Harry had been staying in the safest place in the Hogwarts: Dumbledore’s tower.

Lily looked over at Sirius, who, with black eyelashes were laden with tears and handsome mouth aquiver, looked a changed man from the buoyant, boyish man who had called upon them but yesterday. “Oh Sirius!”

Albus watched the three friends embrace: Severus, eyes pinched closed, back poker-straight and expression blank, held Lily and Sirius tightly as they wept with heartbroken abandon in his arms. It was times like these that Albus knew how old he was, in soul as well as body. The last time Albus had cried in another’s arms, cried as if his heart would break, was when he took Gellert to his cell in Nurmengard: the beautiful, brilliant, tragically misguided man had held him, comforted him and kissed him goodbye before they parted forever. As the cell door had closed, Albus’s wounded, festering heart had shuddered and died.

Now another young man, whose heart was so full of grief that he could not shed a tear, had lost one he loved, albeit platonically, and gained empty, worthless accolade for defeating a dark wizard. Yes, Voldemort, unlike Gellert, would have killed Severus and his family had he not destroyed him, but the old Headmaster knew that was, at best, cold comfort. And Albus had yet more bad news to impart.

Once the children’s wails of grief had softened into sobbing breaths, Albus turned to them and spoke in a soft voice “I am aware that you are deeply bereft and, if matters could wait, I would not trouble you further…”

“What is it, Albus” Severus asked, his voice soft yet hoarse.

“I am very sorry to have to tell you…”

“Not Molly! Oh! No, no…” wailed Lily, turning to bury her head in Severus’s shoulder.

“I have received a positive account of Mrs Weasley’s progress.” Albus replied quietly “The healers expect that she will make a full recovery.”

“And Arthur?” asked Severus.

“Arthur is under medical observation: he is, of course, deeply distressed and disturbed by their ordeal and, naturally but most unfortunately, feels great guilt for having revealed your location” the Headmaster said heavily.

“Please tell him” Severus said “Tell him that I would have done the same if Lily…”

Sirius nodded “He’s not to blame…”

Albus nodded “The news I have to impart… I must ask you to brace yourself. Last night, after Voldemort’s downfall was discovered, a group of Deatheaters, determined to discover your whereabouts, visited Little Whining…”

Lily jerked up, her green eyes wide and terrified. “My sister…”

“Yes, Lily” Albus sighed “Petunia and Vernon Dursley were killed yesterday. Aurors had already been dispatched to remove your sister and brother in law to a safe-house, I sent them the moment I heard of Voldemort’s demise. Alas, they were mere minutes too late.”

As Lily wept, Severus asked, in a strained voice “You make no mention of a child. The Dursleys had a son, a boy of about Harry’s age?”

“Dudley Dursley survived” Albus replied “Bellatrix, Rabastan and Rudolphus Lestrange and young Master Crouch were apprehended before they were aware that the child was asleep upstairs.”

“Crouch?” Sirius spat “Crouch’s son! A deatheater!”

“Where is my nephew!” Lily demanded “What has happened to him?!”

“Calm yourself, Sirius. The boy has been apprehended and will be tried for his crimes. Lily, your nephew is currently in the care of Frank and Alice Longbottom, who have moved to another secure location following last night’s events.

“He should be with me! I’m his aunt!” sobbed Lily.

Severus rested his cheek against his wife’s head and closed his aching, dulled eyes “We will raise Dudley as our own, Albus.”

“Very well, my boy.”

oOoOo

DAILY PROPHET

*Special Evening Edition*

Deatheaters Apprehended At Fake Funeral

This evening sixteen Death-eaters, members of the terrorist organisation upon which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named founded his power, were apprehended during a sting operation focused around the fake funeral of War-Hero, Auror Remus John Lupin, who was secretly laid to rest in an undisclosed location earlier this week.

The terrorists staged the dastardly ambush in hope of murdering Mr Lupin’s childhood friend, Severus Potter, who, last week, killed Voldemort when the evil warlock staged an attack on the Potter household. However, the ambushers quickly realised that they, themselves, had walked into an ambush when senior officials Alastor ‘mad-eye’ Moody and Amelia Bones, disguised as the Potters, mounted an offensive against the intruders, aided by 'priest' Bartemius Crouch and the fifty other ‘mourners’ from the Ministry of Magic Auror department.

Swiftly overwhelmed, the fleeing Deatheaters fell foul of anti-apparition jinxes and, surrounded by the brave defenders of Magical Law, surrendered to justice.

Eight Deatheaters died in the battle of Diagon Temple this evening: Fenrir Greyback, Abraham Goyle, Marvolo Mulciber, Antonin Dolohov, Evan Rosier, Solomon and Arctus Avery and Augustus Rookwood. Among those captured were Timothy Selwyn, Gaius Nott, Stephen Yaxley, Alecto Carrow, Waldern Mcnair, Graham Crabbe, Orcus Travers and Walter Nott.

Aurors Alastor Moody, Frank Longbottom, Hester Jones and Sturgis Podmore were injured during their valiant efforts to bring these wicked terrorists to justice. I, Mungus Digglesworth, would like to extend my thanks, on behalf of the Daily Prophet and, I am sure, the wizarding population of Great Britain, to these brave Witches and Wizards and wish them a speedy and complete recovery.

Hardly anything had changed in Godric's Hollow. The dappled sunlight still filtered through the rowans, streaming green light through the high, porch window, onto the buttercream walls of the hallway. Only the photographs festooning the steep incline of the mahogany stairs showed how much time had changed. A decade ago, only a large, gilt-framed portrait hung, depicting a beautiful, fiery-haired bride resting her head under the chin of a tall, emerald-robed man, whose wry grin was rendered warm by his intelligent, expressive hazel eyes. Now, however, there were several smaller photographs; two boys, one lithe and dark, the other plump and blond, grinning, gap toothed, as they dug into toffee apples whilst fireworks blazed, multi-hued, overhead. Two men, running through a daisy dotted field, each with a cheering child on their shoulders, tiny fingers gripping onto their flowing, raven manes like reins. The fiery-haired woman, proudly smiling into the camera as she stood behind the blond and raven haired boy, each of whom held a tiny, golden cauldron, the Junior Potions trophy, and a large, dribbling, sweetie-encrusted ice-cream.

A smell of buttery pastry and coffee wafts up the stairs, inveigling its way into a large, sky-blue bedroom. It is a strange room; two large, airy bay windows are flanked by a tall, oak wardrobe and sleigh bed apiece. At the head of each bed, stands a small, square table and, at the end of each bed, lies a large, deep trunk. If it were not for the disparately coloured lamps on the bedside table, the varied books on the bookcases, and, last but not least, the tousled dark hair peeping out from underneath the green duvet of one bed, as opposed to the plump, blond head snuggled into the red pillows of the other, one might well think that a mirror had been placed diagonally across this room.

The blond child licked his lips in his sleep, sighing happily as he opened his blue eyes. Stretching, he sits up and slipping out from his crimson bed linen, waddles over to the dark haired boy.

“C’mon Harry. It’s my birthday today! You know what that means!”

Two large, green eyes blaze open and a wide grin draws across that pale, pointed face.

“Croissants with home made strawberry jam and banana milkshakes!” the boys chorused joyfully, before flinging themselves out of the room and stampeding down the hallway, their feet thundering on the stairs.

In the white walled kitchen, Severus was just pulling a tray of warm, fragrant pastries from the oven when the two, panting, beaming children burst in, their slippers screeching on the terracotta tiles as they abruptly skidded to a halt.

“Boys! What have I told you about running in the kitchen?!” The tall wizard exclaimed, tucking a long lock of wavy raven hair behind his ear and glaring down at them through wire rimmed spectacles.

“It’s my birthday?” Dudley replied, hopefully.

Severus shook his head and ushered them towards the heavy walnut kitchen table. Dudley grinned when he saw the pile of brightly wrapped presents.

“Where’s Aunt Lily?” he asked, waddling over to the larder, where he had secreted a second stash the night before. The blond chucked a knobbly package, wrapped in dragon adorned paper, at his younger brother. “Heads up, Harry!”

“Lily and Uncle Sirius were called into the office early this morning, I’m afraid.” Severus replied, placing a large, frothy milkshake in front of each boy. “Nothing dangerous,” he added, noting their concerned expressions, “merely intelligence received.”
Harry nodded, his green eyes wide, and took a noisy sip of his milkshake. Dudley, on the other hand, pouted “It’s not fair! Aunt Lily’s never away on Harry’s birthday!”

“She is too!” Harry protested, a blush spreading across his indignant face.

“That is enough, Dudley.” Severus replied sternly, plonking a large plate of croissants in front of the boys. “Lily missed half of Harry’s fifth birthday party.”

“Sides, it’s not her fault when she gets called away” Harry added, helping himself to a large spoonful of strawberry jam. “It’s the job.”

Dudley sighed and ripped off a corner of his croissant. As satisfying as a good whine might be, Uncle Sev always knew the answers to everything and trying to outsmart the man would only end in Dudley losing his temper. And he really didn’t fancy spending his birthday disembowelling newts.

“Can I open this, Dud?” Harry asked, staring longingly at his present.

“Sure.” The blond haired boy replied, shaking off his ill humour. “Here, Uncle Sev” he said, handing his uncle a flat, square package.

“Thank you Dudley.”

It was a family tradition for the birthday boy (or girl, in Lily’s case) to buy something small for everyone in the family. Uncle Sev said that it acted as a reminder that a birthday was a celebration for everyone.

Several busy moments later, Dudley was sitting in a flurry of wrapping paper, howling with laughter at a purple ‘My Little Pony’ toy.

“Aunt Bathilda’s presents to you get better every year” Harry wheezed, wiping away the tears which leaked from his shimmering eyes.

“Come on, boys” Severus said sternly, fighting the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s enough. Aunt Bathilda is rather elderly and unused to buying toys, let alone ones from muggle shops.”

“Ah well, I guess we’ll find some use for it.”

“Ginny’s party bag?” Harry suggested, absentmindedly opening and closing the dragon-head shaped lid of his new biscuit jar, making it roar and twitch its horned tail.

“Maybe, or dad could make it into a party ride?”

Behind his coffee cup, Severus smiled; although, as a rule, Dudley honoured his parents by reserving the titles ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ for Petunia and Vernon, when he occasionally slipped and called Severus ‘Dad’, it was all the more special.

Adjusting the strap of his shiny, new gold watch, Dudley eyed the last present, wondering what Aunt Marge had given him this year. Although he knew his father’s sister was well disposed to him, her stubborn ill will against his adoptive parents and unkindness towards Harry always rather stuck in the craw. After all, Sirius was Harry’s godfather and he always treated both boys equally.

Sighing, Dudley tore away the paper from the large parcel to reveal a Super NES and a stack of games. However, when Dudley opened the box, he discovered that there was only one controller of the two advertised on the glossy box.

“Don’t worry, Dud.” Harry said sympathetically. “We know what she’s like.”

Dudley forced a smile “Yeah, well, we can just take it in turns.”

“So, what are we gonna do today, Dad?” Harry asked to break the silence.

“A period of Judo, to work off breakfast, then we could probably squeeze in a potion before we have to start preparing for your party.”

Dudley nodded; potions was the one subject in which even a squib such as himself could excel and, as Severus now worked from home, brewing industrial grade potions for the Ministry, both boys had ample opportunity to spend time in the lab.

OoOoO

“Oh Severus! Is that…” Arthur Weasley groaned, staring forlornly at the purple pony, which had been enlarged to the size of a horse and animated to buck and rear.

“Hush, Arthur.” Molly said stiflingly, as she bustled in, holding a gigantic chocolate cake, covered with mounds of cream, cocoa nibs and sweet black cherries.

“Wow!” Dudley grinned. “That looks fantastic Mrs Weasley”

Harry beamed, nodding. The Weasleys weren’t all that well off and, therefore, they always brought food as gifts. However, as two hungry pre-teens, Harry and Dudley far preferred Mrs Weasley’s delicious home cooking to anything shop-bought.

“Thank you, dears” Mrs Weasley beamed, a smile warming her pretty, plump face. “And we’ve also brought chips and honey cakes.”

“And a bouncy castle!” added Bill, holding up a squishy package. “Dad confiscated it last week: it’s been charmed to be bigger inside than out.”

“Not so loud, Bill!”

As Mrs Weasley arranged her fare on the large table that Severus, Harry and Dudley had laid out in the back garden, there was a crack of apperation and the doorbell rung.

Harry and Dudley ran to the door.

“Hi Susan! Hello Mr and Mrs Bones. Come in.” Dudley offered, smiling at the girl “Ginny’ll be really glad to see you.”

“As will we” Harry added quickly.

Susan laughed “I got what you meant, Dudley” she said to the blushing boy. “Here I’ve got you a present. Hope you like it.”

No sooner had Mrs and Mr Bones installed themselves by the barbeque, where Severus was carefully cooking juicy sausages and hamburgers to a turn, when the doorbell rang again.

“Must be Nev, Luna never arrives on time.”

Despite Luna’s sudden conversion to vegetarianism, necessitating Severus to share his Portobello mushrooms, the children sat down to a fantastic party tea. Dudley, whose apatite, inherited, he supposed, from his portly father, was always rather large, happily indulged himself, heaping steaming piles of chips, cheeseburgers and hotdogs onto his plate.

After all the children had eaten, Bill and Charlie erected the bouncy castle and, with Bathilda’s gift charmed into a ‘bucking bronco’ and Mrs Weasley doing the face painting, Dudley was in a very forgiving mood when, in the early evening, Lily and Sirius entered the garden, carrying huge trays of Fortescues ice-cream.

As Dudley lay in bed that night, flicking through an album stuffed with photographs of his birth parents, he was almost able to stifle the ever-present pang of longing. It was tough, being the odd one out, the squib in a houseful of magically gifted people. Although Severus did his best, teaching the boys muggle subjects, like Science, Maths, and English, and only including magical lessons in which both could participate, like History of Magic and Potions, Dudley knew that, whenever he went off to his boxing lessons, Harry was being taught stuff about magic. And, this September, their paths would separate, with Dudley going off to Smeltings, his father’s school, and Harry to Hogwarts. Along with all their friends.

It was hard not to feel envious, knowing that he was being left behind, but Dudley supposed, it was better than being left out entirely. Sighing, the blond boy opened the draw of his bedside cabinet, lovingly tucked the album inside and looked over at Harry, who was sound asleep.

Dudley knew he had his faults; he was stubborn, hot tempered and rather self-indulgent, not to mention a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Nevertheless, Dudley had enough smarts to realise that, although Lily and Severus never spoke ill of his parents, there was a surprising dearth of family stories about them. Moreover, he had once overheard Bathilda mention, in passing, what wonderful a job Severus was doing in raising a muggle child and how she hoped that, with such an inclusive upbringing, they would avoid the variance that had existed between Petunia and Lily.

With Marge’s persistent ill-natured behaviour, it didn’t take a genius to work out that his Mum had been jealous of Lily and that there had been a breach. Dudley hoped that he wasn’t dumb enough to blame Harry for something that wasn’t his fault. He liked his little brother.

“And it’s a ‘Smeltings Stick” Dudley replied slightly pompously. He tugged at the straw hat which was sliding slightly upon his smooth, massy flaxen hair and sighed. “I can’t believe we still have to wear these things.”

“Dead fashionable in, oh, 1900” Sirius sniggered, his jersey pulling across his rounded stomach as he laughed.

Harry gave his uncle a look so old fashioned that it practically predated his parents’ alma mater “Sirius, the Hogwarts uniform’s been the same since 1598” Harry turned to Dudley and added “At least you’re not wearing a dress, Dud!”

Dudley forced a grin “Well, I guess I better get this over with!”

“And if you don’t enjoy the induction day, well, there are other options.” Lily said, handing Dudley his “Spiderman” lunchbox. “We just thought, as your Dad went there…”

“I know Aunty Lil.” Dudley replied, butterflies forming in his stomach. He tugged his maroon jacket, in an effort to straighten it around the curve of his belly.

Severus smoothed his tie “Would you like me to come in with you. Just to see you to reception” he added, noticing Dudley’s blush and look of panic.

“Nah, you guys get on. I’ll be okay.” Dudley bit his lip, knowing that he should head off into the school but unsure as to how.”

“Go gettem Dud!” Sirus fished in the cavernous pocket of his thick leather jacket, then slowly bowled a bar of Honeydukes chocolate just over the blond boy’s shoulder. “Catch!”

Dudley laughed and ran, grabbing the chocolate before it hit the ground. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at the little group “Well, best be off. Bye.” 

“Bye!”

“We’ll be here at four on the dot!”

“And then we’re going to Fortescues!"

“And if anyone gives you trouble kick… mm if fuu nuffeff!”

Dudley smiled. Today was going to go okay.

oOoOo

As, with one last wave, Dudley strode into Smeltings, Severus turned to his son and, slipping a tapering hand into the inner pocked of his navy, double-breasted jacket, pulled free a large, creamy envelope. On the front, in a curly green script proclaimed;

“Mr. H. M. S. Potter,
C.O. Severus Potter,
13th Floor,
Ministry of Magic,
London.”

Behind his round glasses, Harry’s green eyes widened “Is that..?”

“Your Hogwarts letter, Harry” Lily replied with a smile “Your Dad had a word with Dumbledore. Special circumstances.”

“Being Minister has some perks” grinned Sirius. “Not that Crouch allows us to pull rank. Speaking of which, we’d better get going, Mrs. Potter; Barty’ll make us sit in the naughty chair if we’re late again!”

“Bye Harry, have a nice time in Diagon Alley!” Lily ruffled Harry’s long, dark locks affectionately.

The eleven-year- old looked up from his letter, a smile spreading across his face “We’re going to Diagon Alley? Really?!”

“Yup, sprat. Your Dad’s sorted it.” Sirius smirked. “Consider it an un-birthday treat. You’ll be meeting your bodyguards in the Leaky Cauldron.”

Harry nodded. Crouch never allowed Sirius on bodyguard duty, let alone his Mum, who was only allowed out of the office under polyjuice.

“Do you have the portkey, Sirus?”

“Yup, here we are. Due to go at nine o’clock on the dot.” he replied, reaching into his cavernous pocket. A bag of Harry’s favourite sweets, Dolly Mixtures, emerged.

Severus raised a sable eyebrow. Sirus blushed.

“Well, after you and Harry have eaten the sweets, the wrapper’ll just be rubbish. Perfectly above board.”

Lily laughed at her incorrigible colleague. “See you later, guys. Have fun.”

Harry looked away, wincing, as his mother pressed a kiss on his father’s lips. Why did his parents have to be so disgusting sometimes?

“Never mind, Harry, they might grow out of it.” Sirius chuckled, nudging the boy with his elbow. “Look after that Dad of yours, y’hear?"

Harry grinned “Sure.”

“It’s almost nine, Harry.” Severus said quietly, proffering the bag to his son.

Harry had only time to cry “Bye Mum, Bye Siri.” before the world became a whirl of colour.

oOoOo

The Leaky Cauldron, with its oak panelled walls, plush yet faded chairs and scent of beer, tobacco and pickled onions, was probably Harry’s very favourite place. Or, it would have been if not for the crowd which always descended mere seconds after his father arrived.

“Bless my soul, it’s Mr Potter!”

“Mr Potter is here. He’s actually here!”

“Can’t believe it!”

As chairs scraped backwards, a huge hand fell on Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s lips quirked; there was only one person that could be.

“Hargid!”

“Hello, Harry, Sev’rus.” The half-giant replied “An’ I’m right pleased to see yeh too!” he added, beaming down at Harry, who had thrown his arms around Hagrid’s midriff and latched on like a limpet.

As Severus turned to shake hands with the crowd, Harry noticed the shiny cage by Hagrid’s ankle. Under the velvet cover, something with sharp black claws, thin, scaly legs and white feathers stood on a thick perch.

“What’s that Hagrid?”

“Werl, you know how I couldn’t make yeh birthday, being busy with them firecrabs?”

“He remembers! Did you hear that? He remembers me!” 
“Of course I do, Dedalus. We fought at Fairfax and Crowborough together.” 

“Yeah.” Harry replied. Dumbledore had turned up at six o’clock yesterday evening, thumping embers from his cerise robes, and apologising for his gamekeeper’s absence from Harry’s birthday party. Apparently they had only just managed to put out the fire.

“Werl, I got you summat to make up for it.” Hagrid pulled the cover aside to reveal a beautiful snowy owl. “Ain’t she a beauty?!"

“Doris Crockford, Mr Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.” 
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam.”

“Wow!” Harry gasped, green eyes meeting amber. “I didn’t know any snowy owls were trained!”

“Rare ‘un she is. Ordered ‘er in special like.”

“Dad! Dad! Look what Hagrid’s got me!” Harry cried, tugging at his father’s sleeve.

“Excuse me, Sir,” Severus turned around. For a moment affection battled with concern in his hazel eyes before settling into a look of resignation.

“Well, Hagrid, at least Harry will not fail to recognise her.” Severus replied, mentally adding: ‘and nor will anyone else!’

“Tha’s just what I thought! Werl, we better get goin’ I got a business to do at Gringotts. Hogwarts business.” He added with a wink of his beetle black eyes.

As Severus made his farewells, aided by Hagrid, Harry noticed, from the corner of his eye, a pale young man was sitting at the bar and staring hard at his father. Clutching his new pet’s cage firmly, Harry turned and looked at the man, who averted his gaze immediately.

“Dad. That man was looking at you.” he whispered, sliding his fingers into his father’s gloved hand.

Tense and clutching his pink umbrella, Hagrid turned, then breathed out a sigh of relief. “Don’t fash yehself, Harry. Tha’s just Quirrell, Professor Quirrell to yeh. Very shy man. Prob’ly too shy to make himself known. Tha’s all.”

oOoOo

Gringotts, with its snowy white walls, bronze doors and population of scarlet clad goblins was, as always, brilliant. No sooner had Severus, Hagrid and Harry entered the door than they were met by goblin so ancient that his skin had faded to the gold of his robes. Flanking him were two guards; although their silver mail looked decorative, the large, double-headed axes they held were anything but.   

“Minister Potter” he intoned, bowing stiffly. “It is an honour.”

“Vakvel Hawkgr’ll.” Severus replied, bowing deeply before clasping the goblin’s long, ring-encrusted fingers in a gentle hand. “The honour is all mine.” 

A smile entered Harkgr’ll dark, clever eyes “A shared honour, perhaps. Vakvel and Minister looking upon each other, not as each the other’s inferior, but as equals.”

“Indeed.”

“And what may Gringotts do for you today, Minister?”

“I wish to open an account for my son, Harry.” Severus replied, guiding the child forward with his hand. Blushing, Harry attempted to bow to the Goblin King, a difficult feat with his arms full of owl-cage.

“Greetings, little one” smiled the ancient goblin. “Ah, pin money for Hogwarts, I expect? To be spent on sweets and tricks and other toys, no doubt.”

“An' I have business down at vault seven-hundred and thirteen.” Hagrid said importantly, tugging a somewhat crumpled letter from his pocket. “Dumbledore wrote me a chit.”

“Griphook!” Another, much younger goblin, who had been standing beside one of the many doorways, strode over smugly.

“Yes, my Lord?” he asked, bowing deeply.

“Take Mr Hagrid to vault seven-hundred and thirteen whilst I attend Minister Potter.”

Griphook looked askance at the group but only said “Of course, my Lord.”

As Hagrid was lead away, Hawkgr’ll motioned for Harry and Severus to follow him.  “It is a bit of a climb to my chambers,” he wheezed as they ascended a white stone, spiral staircase “but well worth it, I assure you, young Harry.”

With one hand on the balustrade and the other still clutching his precious owl-cage, Harry nodded; the strain of climbing the stairs was tightening the backs of his legs. Not that he would admit it or relinquish hold of his owl, of course.

Eventually, they stepped into a huge, airy chamber, more like a church than an ordinary room. Along the wall, under a line of intricate rose-windows, hung hundreds of huge scrolls, each decorated by a myriad of impressive wax seals. At the very end of the corridor three huge, arched windows formed a backdrop to an elephantine, leather-topped desk, in which was set an axe wrought of diamond. 

“Wow!” the tousle-haired boy gasped. The goblin king smiled indulgently.

“It takes many that way, young human.” Hawkgr’ll said solemnly “Three thousand years look down on us: some good, some not so good but all important in their way.”

When they reached the desk, Harry noticed that the marble floor had a pattern of pentagrams, each spaced two paces from the next, in the pattern of a chess-board.

“Step onto one of the stars, Harry” Severus suggested, winking at Hawkgr’ll.  

No sooner had Harry’s feet landed on the pentagram than a leather chair knocked them from under him.

“Woah!”

“So much more convenient than spells or servants.” The ancient goblin smirked.

“How did you get it to do that?!” Harry exclaimed, peering over the edges of the wood framed chair.

“Now, Harry, it is considered impolite in goblin society to ask about craft secrets.” Severus said seriously.

“Oh,” Harry blushed “Sorry.”

“No matter, young Harry. I asked the mason myself; he was a distant descendant of the goblin who built this floor and had come in to sharpen up the symbols. I remember how my great grandfather boxed my ears. Heirs are ten-a-knut compared to master artificers.” he chuckled wryly.

“What does ‘box’ mean?” Harry asked.

Goblin and man laughed in unison. “Some might take that as a request for an example, child. However, I do not wish to start a war. Now then, to business.”

As Severus and Hawkgr’ll discussed interest-rates, vault locations and overdraft facilities, Harry swung his legs and looked around the beautiful room. Between the three arched windows were two long scrolls; one, the lengthiest, was entitled ‘Lupin’s Law; 1986’. If Harry hadn’t recognised the surname, his father’s triangular, turquoise seal was pretty conclusive evidence. For a few minutes, Harry attempted to read but the writing was so curly and so small that he couldn’t get much further than; ‘It is hereby proclaimed that all magical folk are held as equal under judicature of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales…”

The second scroll was written in strange symbols but, again, the Potter seal was stamped at the bottom, next to a seal which seemed to have been stamped into molten gold. Harry knew just enough to identify Gobbledyn, the goblin alphabet, but the rest was Gobbledegook to him- in both the muggle and Goblin sense!

Between the scrolls stood a glass showcase in which a beautiful ebony wand rested on a red velvet pillow. Harry grinned; in a few minutes, he’d be getting a wand all of his own. His father had told him a little about wand lore and Harry couldn’t wait to discover what his new wand’s core and wood revealed about himself.  

Harry’s happy daydream dispersed as Hawkgr’ll thumped his fist on the table. “Well, now, Minister. I think we can strike a deal on those terms.”

“All sorted?”

“Yes, thank you Hagrid.” Severus replied politely, inclining his head. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“No problem. Uh, listen Sev, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts!”

Severus’ raised a sable eyebrow “I scarcely believe that Dumbledore would approve”

Hagrid blushed “Yeah, I know but I’m feelin’ bl…oomin’ awful. I need summat to settle my stomach sharpish, if you catch my drift.”

“Perhaps a sojourn to Fortescues. I believe they serve a range of alcohol.”

There is only one thing closer to bliss than sitting outside a café, in a comfortable chair, watching the world go buy as you eat a huge sundae comprised of your favourite ice cream, summer fruits, whipped cream and a shiny cherry. Actual bliss is the same situation, with the added benefit of being an eleven year old, on your summer holiday, during a perfect English July day of soft sunshine and sweetly-scented breezes.

Sucking on a spoonful of chocolate ice-cream, Harry grinned at his father, who was somehow managing to eat his Malaga, pistachio and amaretti ice cream cone without losing a single dribble or perceptibly licking it.

Severus smiled back “Now, Harry, do you have your Hogwarts letter?”

“Yeah” the tousle-haired child rummaged in his coat pocket, finally dragging free the overlarge letter.

“When I was but a boy of your age, my Grandmother took me to buy my school-things. My parents, being very much involved with village life, were usually too busy to visit London, so they owl-ordered everything. However, my Grandmother Persephone was a great believer in practical lessons and, as most of my relatives were elderly, she though that the sooner I learnt to handle my finances, the better.”

Severus smirked in recollection “Thus, I gained the princely sum of thirty galleons, opened my first bank account and then went on to spend a great deal of my fortune. My grandmother, however, gave me a few hints and tips which meant that, when I received my stipend the following term, I hardly had to spend a knut of it on school supplies.”

Hagrid looked up from his Calvados sorbet “Bein’ able to handle a budget’s dead importan’ Harry. Me Dad tried doin’ much the same when I started Hogwarts: gave me a bag of galleons an’ tol me to choose me own stuff, with the remainder to spend on a pet.”

Harry perked up: mentally, he’s already spent his windfall of fifty galleons on a broomstick -preferably the brand new Nimbus- and to discover those precious coins would, instead have to be wasted on unimportant things, like clothes and equipment, had been a blow. He gazed with imploring green eyes at his father, who raised a sable eyebrow. Tenacious, Harry widened his eyes, trying his best to emulate Ginny’s patented ‘puppy dog’ look. Severus’ mouth quirked, his hazel eyes crinkling.

Grinning, Harry turned back to Hagrid “What sort of pet did you buy?”  

The large man blushed and, scratching his beard, gave a sheepish grin “Werl, I was a bit… over eager, see. Went to the pet shop first…"

“May I just mention, Harry, that you will be buying your school supplies first and fripperies afterwards” Severus interjected sardonically.

“Blew most of it on a griffin egg an’ had to go to second hand shops for me books and robes.” Hagrid chuckled “Me Dad wasn’t best pleased. Never had such a scoldin!”

Harry looked at the plump, moke-skin bag, which was charmed to be directly linked to his Gringotts account. Although he loved flying- a rare pleasure as his parents and, moreover, his friends parents were loathe to isolate Dudley- he really didn’t want to disappoint his father. Mum’s temper was as fiery as her hair and, over the years, both Harry and Dudley had screamed back at her, stamped their feet and generally been brats until Lily had brought out the doomsday weapon- tears- which shamed them into repentance.

Dad, however, was another story completely. Legend was that he’d never raised a hand to anyone except Voldemort. The truth, however, was that he didn’t need to; when Severus’ voice softened to an arctic whisper, only the suicidally stupid would try their luck. Ice beat fire any day, in Harry and Dudley’s opinion, and, thus, Harry resigned himself. After all, it wasn’t if he’d be able to try out for the team until next year…

“Whilst you’re eating your knickerbocker glory” Severus continued “I’d like you to try and work out how much each on the list item will cost, plus anything else you think you might need.”

Harry nodded forlornly; he always managed to forget something.

“Then, once you’ve finished, you need to write down a list, including prices, and calculate the total.” Severus added.

“I’m no good at maths, Dad!” Harry moaned, his green eyes beseeching.

Severus raised an arched eyebrow “This is a matter of addition, not calculus, Harry. I am sure you are quite capable.”

Grumbling, Harry attacked his ice-cream with renewed vigour. Why couldn’t his parents just buy his stuff for him, like normal people did!”

OoOoO

By the time Harry scooped the last dregs of vanilla-fudge from his glass, however, the task his father had set him didn’t seem too daunting; the school list was pretty comprehensive and, having overheard Mrs Weasley the previous year, Harry knew that he’d need certain extras- namely a set of standard potion ingredients and writing supplies.

Besides, Harry thought happily, he wouldn’t need two of the books on this list; Madam Bagshot had given both Harry and Dudley copies of “A History of Magic” after Dudley, in all innocence, had informed the old author that she should write a book.* “Magical Drafts and Potions” had, serendipitously enough, been a present from Percy Weasley; Harry had inherited his parents’ talent for potions and, when he’d asked the third-year student if he could borrow the book- which looked interesting- and Perce had made a gift of it.

So, if you said two and a half galleons for each book, five galleons for each piece of equipment, ten galleons for the wand, five galleons for a set of robes, two for the hat, five for the cloak, three for potions supplies, two for writing material…

“Dad, I can’t make it come to under seventy galleons!” Harry whined.

Smirking, Severus held out his hand for the list. When he scanned Harry’s costings, the smirk grew wider “I also see that you haven’t accounted for a trunk or name tags or a book bag. And your poor owl is to go without food, treats or sand for the bottom of its cage?"

Harry threw his arms, cross-wise, over the table and collapsed upon them with a soul-creaking groan. Hagrid chuckled.

“Don’t worry yehself, lad!” the half-giant smiled, setting the ice-cream glasses jangling as he patted Harry on the back. “Owls catch their own grub, the sand in the cage is self-cleaning an’ owl treats are a sickle a dozen. Dead cheap. Sides, I got yeh a packet.” Hagrid began emptying his pockets

“And Madam Malkin adds name tags upon request.” Severus added with a smile “As for the trunk, there are five in our attic- all in relatively good condition apart from your uncle Sirius’- and your mother has a very nice brass telescope, which she inherited from your great uncle, an astrologer I believe.”

Harry raised his head and looked balefully at his father, who smirkingly added: “Although the first step in working out a budget is to find out what one needs, the second step is to check what one already has. Nevertheless, you have been over-generous with your estimations; forty galleons should be ample to completely outfit a child for their first year at Hogwarts. The scholarship children only receive thirty.”

“But…” the dark haired child retorted.

“Your estimate on the price of books is fair, though, as these are school texts, Flourish and Blotts supplies them at a substantial discount.”

“Mos’ shops do a school discount.” Hagrid added. “It’s always worth askin.’”

Harry pulled a face “But Dad, we’re rich! We don’t need to go around finding bargains.”

Severus’ hazel eyes were stern behind his wire-rimmed glasses “Firstly talking about one’s financial status in such a way is vulgar; one either whines or boasts. Secondly, if one does not respect money, one loses it and, thirdly, being in a position where one’s finances comfortably cover one’s needs does not make one better than someone who has no choice but to ‘go around finding bargains’.”

“I know that!” Harry pouted, blushing. His dad was so mean sometimes; of course Harry knew he was not superior just because his family had money- he wasn’t a Malfoy for Isis’ sake!

“I hope that you do.” Severus replied evenly. “Now, we have been sitting around for long enough. I think we should first visit Eben Saddler.”

“Whose he?” Harry asked. Hagrid laughed.

“The clue’s in the name, lad. His fam’ly have been tanners an’ leatherworkers since Merlin! All the outfitters buy his stuff. Best in the business.”

“However,” Severus added, unfolding his slender frame from the chair and smoothing his suit “going directly means that one, firstly, has a choice of his entire range and, secondly, avoids a substantial mark-up. His shop is on the corner adjoining Knockturn alley.”

“But why are we going their first?” Harry insisted, feeling a bit cross with himself for not realising the link between name and profession sooner.

“You will need a sturdy bag to carry your books.” Severus replied smartly, starting to stride away, into the crowd. “Chop, chop!”

OoOoO

Despite the inauspicious beginning, the shopping trip was actually great fun. Harry was used to being treated politely by people- his dad was Minister, after all- but  shop-keepers usually spoke mainly to his dad, even if they were buying something for him.

However, now Harry had a money bag in his hand, things were very different. Most  shop-keepers in Diagon Alley had inherited their shops and all knew that, when a young wizard enters a shop with a bulging money bag and proud parents standing three steps behind, it was a sure sign that young sir was learning the value of money. Therefore, Harry was advised soundly, shown the best of their wares and generally treated as master of his own fortune. He loved it.

Thus, at the end of two hours of careful shopping, Harry had a beautiful pair of emerald green dragon-hide gloves (‘with thick gauntlets to protect sir’s wrists’), a sturdy, many pocketed bag with undetectable extending and lightening charms, a complete set of books (‘a galleon each- every publisher wants their books on Hogwarts’ list and Dumbledore drives a hard bargain’), his potions supplies- from a little, drab looking apothecary shop which Harry would have ignored if his dad hadn’t pointed it out (‘cauldron, crystal vials, scales and standard ingredients; the equipment has a lifetime guarantee. Ten galleons for the set’).

The stationers was another shop where his father’s knowledge came in handy; linen paper rolls were longer, lighter, stronger and cheaper than animal hide. Not to mention, Harry thought happily as he handed over four galleons, that his new bottle of colour-changing ink would look much more vivid on the creamy paper.

Hagrid, on the other hand, came up trumps in Madam Malkins; as a child, the half-giant would have grown out of his clothes very quickly, had they not already been torn by his boisterous pets. Thus, Harry learnt the benefits of acromantula silk (‘yeh’ll not tear it, Harry, even if yeh fight manticores!’) and self adjusting spells on clothes (‘allows up to ten square inches of growth’). Although silk, self adjusting robes were three galleons more than ordinary sets, the total bill actually came to four galleons less than the sum for which Harry had originally accounted.

Thus, by the time the little group reached Ollivander’s, Harry had a comfortable eighteen galleons in his purse; okay, he wouldn’t get a broom for eight galleons but it was a nice start to his broomstick fund!

Unlike the shiny, modern ‘Scrivenschafts’ or plush, luxurious ‘Madam Malkins’ or even the cosy, old fashioned ‘Saddler’s’, Ollivander’s shop was, in Harry’s opinion, the very epitome of old magecraft; a mixture of age, absentmindedness and breathtaking ability. The narrow, shabby exterior, was a perfect foil for the peeling gold sign which proudly proclaimed ‘Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC’ and the beautiful, richly carved wand in the dusty window display was marvellous juxtaposed by the faded velvet cushion which bore it. Inside, the shop was much the same; tiny, cramped, dusty and stuffed to bursting with self upon shelf of narrow, wooden boxes. Sitting on the single, spindly chair, Harry found himself wondering whether the contents of this seemingly unattended shop was worth more than Gringotts itself.

As this thought entered his mind, the back of Harry’s neck prickled. The tousle-haired boy shook his head, guiltily folding his hands in his lap; you’d have to be mad to attempt to rob Ollivander’s.

“Good afternoon” said a soft voice. Harry jumped, as did Hagrid, but the unflappable Severus, to his son’s not inconsiderable irritation, merely turned and said “Good afternoon, Mr Ollivander.”

“Ah, Minister. I thought it would not be long before we met again. Your young son is but eleven now, is he not?”

“It was my birthday yesterday!” Harry replied, peering at the elderly man through his round glasses; Ollivander, like his shop, was a study of contrasts; with his messy white hair and lanky, slightly stooped figure, he might have passed for any old muggle man if not for his seemingly overlarge eyes, which were an astonishing shade of light silver.

Ollivander smiled down at the child “Was it indeed. The solar return on one’s birth is a particularly auspicious time. Perhaps a very fine wand will favour you today.” 

Harry’s dark eyebrows met his messy hairline.

“One of my best wands chose your father; walnut, stiff, thirteen inches. The scale at its core was the finest and fairest of blues, gifted to me by a noble chimera. Very misunderstood beings until, of course” the old man beamed happily “the great Equality Act of March 10th 1986. I sold many wands that day.”

Severus mouth quirked into a half-smile and he bowed “I am pleased to have been of service.”

“Lily Evans’ wand, however” Ollivander said, wandering off a tangent “was rather less powerful, though excellent for charms. Ten and a quarter inches, swishy, willow with a unicorn hair core.” A little smile graced the old man’s face “The combination was once called a ‘grail wand’; elegant, beautiful and sweet-natured, in the age of arranged marriages, many a young man would agree to an as yet unseen bride merely on the guarantee that she possessed such a wand.”

Harry folded his arms, unsure if he was happy about this conversation.

“But perhaps we should move on to business” Severus suggested, his hazel eyes sparkling with humour.

“Oh, indeed, indeed!” Ollivander agreed. “I have a new theory on wands, Severus. Have you heard of the muggle art of physiognomy?” the old man picked up a long tape measure with silver markings. “Hold out your arm please, young Harry.”

As the tape measure snaked around Harry’s body, taking measurements, Severus discussed the merits of muggle divination with Ollivander as the ancient wizard tugged boxes, seemingly at random, from the myriad of shelves.

“Does Master Potter know anything of wandlore?” Ollivander asked, finally setting down his armful of boxes.

“Yeah.” Harry replied shortly. He didn’t like people speaking about him as if he wasn’t able to answer questions himself.

“Harry knows a little about the main cores” Severus replied, with a reproving look at his son.

Ollivander picked a dark box off the pile “Runespore fang and oak, pliable. Ten inches.” he said, opening the box to reveal a golden wand “Just take it and give it a wave, my boy!”

Harry picked the wand out of the box and, straight backed, his green eyes alight with delight, gave a flourishing wave. Nothing happened.

“Never mind, never mind” Ollivander said, taking the wand back. “Hmm, perhaps Maple and phoenix feather, whippy. Try it out.”

Again, nothing happened.

“Perhaps if we try an extreme” the ancient wandmaker said, stroking his chin “Dragonstring and fir, eleven inches.”

Harry gingerly waved the wand, only to drop it when angry red sparks spat out of the end.

“No, definitely not. Perhaps something a little more friendly; rowan and unicorn hair, nine inches. Lovely little wand.”

The rowan, however, rejected Harry, as did the next, and the next, and the next. As the pile of wand boxes built up, the hot tide of panic crept up the self confident little boy’s throat; what if every wand rejected him?! What if he wasn’t really a wizard?!

Ollivander, on the other hand, seemed to become more excited with every failed match. “Tricky customer, eh? Well, we’ll find your wand soon enough. Ebony and unicorn hair, maybe?"

Five minutes and what felt like hundreds of rejections later, Harry was almost in tears. Severus placed his hand on his son’s shoulder “Perhaps a very special wand is destined for you, Harry. Mr Ollivander will find it. Never you fear!"

“I will indeed, my boy. Do not fret, I’ve never been beaten!” the ancient wandmaker’s hand fell upon a dusty box and he turned, his moon pale eyes lingering on Severus. “Hmm, why not. Worth a try.”

Ollivander slid the box from it’s shelf and swept away the thin covering of dust “Unusual combination, this, Holly and Phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and supple.”

A great sigh shaking his shoulders, Harry reached into the proffered box and picked up the elegant, reddish brown wand. Immediately, an almost loving warmth suffused his fingers, surging up his arm and embracing his entire being. Raising his arm, Harry brought the wand around in a great ark, a stream of red and gold sparks trailing behind it like a firework.

“Yes!” Harry cried, turning to look at his dad and Hagrid with happy green eyes.

“Well done Harry!”

“Knew yeh’d find one sooner or later!”

“Bravo!” said Mr Ollivander with a smile, replacing the wand in its container. “Well, well, well,” he tore a sheet of brown paper and began to wrap the box, “how very curious.”

“What is curious?” Severus asked, his dark eyes narrowed with interest.

“I remember every wand I have ever sold, Minister. Every single wand. The phoenix who gave the feather in your son’s wand gave another. Just one other.”

“Indeed” Severus drawled, folding his arms and leaning against the wall beside the counter.

“Yes, your son’s wand has a brother. Or, rather, had. It was defeated by the very wand which you hold in your sleeve.”

“Voldemort?!” Severus said, straightening up.

Ollivander shuddered “Yes, yew, thirteen and a half inches. Very powerful and, in the wrong hands exceptionally dangerous.” Ollivander sighed “Such a shame; it was a very good wand to begin with: yew is not a wood which relishes evil deeds.”

Harry swallowed, he was not so sure about his wand now.

Handing over the package, Ollivander smiled “I think we must expect great things from you, Master Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things, terrible, yes, but great.”

Harry felt the warm weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder “Holly is a wood of protection, healing and magic Harry and, as you know, there is nothing evil about phoenixes. You love Fawkes.”

“Indeed, it was Fawkes who gave the feather at your wand’s core” Ollivander added absentmindedly, as he attempted to find the end of his roll of spellotape.

His heart considerably lighter, Harry paid Mr. Ollivander his seven galleons and bounced from the shop, desperate to firecall his Mum and relay his absolutely amazing news.

“Books?”

“Check.” Harry said, settling the hefty pile in the trunk, beside his potions set. “School shoes?” he asked, picking up his pair of heeled, black boots.

“Check” Dudley replied, tucking a pair of smart loafers into the recess of his trunk. “Trainers?”

“Check” Harry sighed, regarding his lightweight leather plimsolls with a fair amount of derision; Dad had said that bulky trainers were no good for flying.

“Non-humiliating clothes?” Dudley asked, carefully easing a pile of freshly laundered tee-shirts, shirts, jeans and jumpers off his bed.

“Check. Vaguely humiliating clothes?” Harry asked, holding up three Marks and Spenser’s packages of vests, socks and pants.

“Check. Very humiliating clothes?”

Harry laughed and grabbed his school uniform “Check! And ultra humiliating clothes…” Harry unrolled a bulky, green woollen, complete with a large, golden ‘H’.

Dudley picked up his huge, bulky blue jumper “That’s mean, Harry” he chuckled “but, yeah, check!”

“Pyjama bag?” Harry asked, picking up his brand-new, navy blue nightclothes holder, bulky with dressing-gown, pyjamas and slippers.

“Gottit” Dudley waved his red bag before dropping it into the depths. “Schoolbag, with pens, paper and a spare pair of underpants for Mr Sharp’s Chemistry lesson.”

“Or Mr Snape’s potions lesson…”

“And the stupid stick!” Harry grinned, brandishing his wand.

“Ditto and done!”

“How are you two doing?” Lily asked from the doorway, arms folded and a smile on her heart-shaped face.

“We’ve finished packing, Mum.” Harry grinned.

“Not quite, you’ve still got these” Lily held out  two washbags. “I picked them up from Crabtree and Evelyn, yours has that almond and honey soap you like, Harry, and I got you your goatmilk soap Dud. Sev’s put refilling potions on the shampoo, conditioner and toothpaste and there’s a new toothbrush for both of you."

“Thanks Mum!”

“Thanks Lily!"

“Don’t want you stinking the place up.” Lily grinned, relaxing her toned body against the doorframe “Have you made sure your school-uniform is on the top and you’ve left your shoes out?”

“Shit!” Harry moaned.

“Harry!”

“Siri says it all the time, Mum!” Harry replied pertly.

“Yeah, well Siri does a lot of things, mainly because he’s too old to be put over anyone’s lap” Lily replied, crossing her jean-covered legs. “However, you, my little lad, are not.”

“I’m eleven Mum!”

“Still shorter than me, squirt.”

“Well, I guess we’ve got half an hour before everyone arrives” Dudley said with a sigh.

oOoOo

“A Nimbus 2000!” Harry breathed, green eyes round as galleons as he gaped at the beautiful broomstick in his hands.

Dudley, clutching a brand-new Gameboy in his plump hands, was practically trembling in ecstasy.

Ignoring Severus glare, Sirius beamed toothily “Got to have some fun at school; all work and no play make Jack a dull boy, huh Sev?”

Severus, his slender arms crossed, raised an arched, sable eyebrow.

“CanIgotryitnowdad? CanIcanIcanI?”

“Pleeeeeeeeease Uncle Sev!” Dudley whined “Just five minutes..?”

“Not now, boys.” Lily replied, her emerald eyes firm, “Take them upstairs; you’ll have a chance to try ‘em out tomorrow, before we leave.”

Harry and Dudley nodded reluctantly, too overawed by their good luck to risk their precious windfalls.

“Thanks Siri! It’s the best!”

“Yeah, thanks” Dudley grinned.

“If you hide ‘em in your underwear bag, the Head of House won’t ever know” Sirius said mischievously, tapping his nose.

As the boys raced upstairs, Lily turned to the still-smirking Sirius and a smile twisting her mouth, drawled “You know, Siri, I really don’t think you’re too old to go over my knee after all.”

“Alright!”

“Or Sev’s”

“Kinky!” Sirius smirked, winking at Severus, who was leaning back against the wall, his aquiline face carefully neutral.

“Oh shut it, Siri.” Lily pouted, whacking her irritating partner-in-crime over the head with a cushion.

Sirius, his usually straight, inky hair now as ruffled as Severus’ wayward raven locks, cried “Are you going to let your missus beat me up, Sev?”

“Of course” Severus replied, mischief flickering in his intelligent hazel eyes, as he stalked into the hall to answer the door.

oOoOo

“I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts. It’s not fair…” Ginny mumbled, glaring at her ice-cream as it melted into the golden-fudginess of her treacle tart.

“Yeah, well, we had to wait longer than you, Gin” Ron replied.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded “Besides, it’ll only be another year."

“Practically no time” Neville added kindly “And we’ll send you loads of letters telling you what spells we’re learning and stuff.”

“eeak or oooref” Ron said around a mouthful of apple crumble.

“Ronald! Manners!” barked Mrs Weasley. “Honestly, you should take a leaf out of Neville’s book, young man.” 

Alice Longbottom looked over at her blushing son, a gentle smile on her pretty, plump face.

“Boys will be boys, eh Mol?” Frank grinned, winking a chocolate brown eye at Ron, who was sticking out his custard-besmeared bottom lip and glaring at his mother.

“I hear your godfather got you a come-pooter?” Arthur said, turning to Dudley.

“Oh, yeah” Dudley replied, casting a wary blue eye on Ron, whose ears were as red as his hair, “It’s a special one for playing games, like there’s this little Italian guy and you’ve got to get him through all sorts of obstacles, like big drops, and there are enemies, little turtles and fish and stuff, that can kill him. It’s well fun.”

“And it uses a tape and batterings?”

“Uh, batteries and the tape is actually a cassette, which is a bit more complicated because it’s got, like, animations of stuff and a place to save your work…"

A sudden, sharp beep cut through the room, Severus looked at his watch, an elegant hematite-faced, silver timepiece on a black, dragon-leather strap. Right now, one silver hand, the one shaped like the Ministerial sword of office, was pointing to ‘Office’

Severus looked up, hazel eyes neutral behind his rectangular spectacles “I am afraid that something seems to require my urgent attention.”

Looking up from his watch, Frank muttered “Not us, however. Must be something international, what?”

“Possibly” Severus unfolded his long limbs from the chair and stood up “I am very sorry to abandon my duties as host, I will try to return within an hour if possible.”

“Send us an owl if you get held up” Lily said, her emerald eyes rising to meet Severus’ “And don’t worry if it takes longer, we know what it’s like, remember.”

Severus bent to place a kiss on Lily’s cheek “Thank you.”

“Bye Dad!”

“Bye Uncle Severus.”

“Goodbye boys” Severus ruffled the children’s hair. “As I said, I’ll try to be back before the evening’s over and, if not, I’ll see you all tomorrow at King’s Cross.” 

When Severus had disappeared through the Floo, Harry turned to the other children, a mischievous grin on his pointed face “Who wants come see my new broom?”

oOoOo

“Muuum!”

“Yes Harry?” Lily grunted, manhandling her son’s trunk onto a trolly; lightening spells are all well and good but a petite woman will always face certain logistical problems when attempting to carry a three foot by two foot by three foot object.

“Has Dad’s hand gone to travelling yet?”

Lily pushed a heavy lock of fiery hair out of her eyes and peered at the little golden watch on her freckled wrist “No, not yet.”

“It’s so unfair! He wouldn’t miss Dud’s..!”

“Yeah he would, if another Minister had gotten himself assassinated the day before.” Dudley grumbled “Sev’s got an important job, Harry. I didn’t hear you complaining when he got tickets to that Ireland against Norway game you wanted to see” the blond’s voice dropped to a mumble “he wouldn’t have pulled strings like that for me…”

“Yeah, well he got the house attached to that stupid National grid thingy just for you! I didn’t want to play that stupid game your stupid aunt got you…”

“You did so!”

“Did not!”

“Did so!"

“Did NOT!”

“Did…”

“SHUT UP!” Lily howled.

“Did so” Dudley mouthed.

Harry turned on his heel, intent on taking out his many, very valid (in his opinion) frustrations out on Dudley when he saw a tall, slender figure sprinting towards them, black jacket, tie and hair streaking in the fuggy, city air.

Severus screeched to a halt beside the trolley and pressed a huge bunch of pastel-hued sweet-peas into Lily’s hands “I thought I heard your dulcet tones, dear.”

“Dad! You made it!” Harry cried, attaching himself like a limpet around Severus’ narrow waist.

“Told you he would.” Dudley retorted smugly.

“Come on, we’ve got to get you onto that train” Severus said, chivvying the boys along. “It’s ten to."

“Okay Dad!” Harry replied, trotting to keep up with his father’s long strides.

Lily rolled her eyes to Dudley, whose plump face split into a grin. Giggling, they pushed the trolley through the barrier and onto Platform 9 ¾.

oOoOo

“Well, my Dad says all the houses have merit and, really, the hat generally will put you anywhere if you really insist.” Harry said, unwrapping a pumpkin pasty.

“But, Harry, Slytherin is just so not right” Ron retorted, stroking Lightening, his black and grey European Owl. “All the dark wizards came from there!”

“That’s rubbish” Neville retorted “Dad says they picked up people from all houses in the Big Bust.”

Ron sniggered “The what?”

“That’s what the Auror’s call it” Harry explained “Y’know, Remus’ fake funeral, when they got all the Death Eaters.”

“Almost all of them” Ron muttered, glaring darkly at the door, through with a pale, pointed face, surrounded by moon-blond hair, was peering.

The door opened “Good afternoon?”

Neville rose politely, followed reluctantly by Harry.

“Good afternoon, Malfoy is it?” Neville asked levelly, a neutral expression on his round face.

The boy’s pale eyebrows raised almost comically “Yes, Draco Malfoy.” 

“Neville Longbottom. You look a lot like your father.”

A proud gleam entered Draco’s silver eyes “Yes, everyone says so. Not as much as you though, Potter, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah” Harry replied, sitting down “I’m Harry and this is Ron Weasley.”

“I thought as much. The red hair is rather distinctive, isn’t it” he said sniffily.

Ron’s ears glowed maroon and things may have turned out very differently if the door had not opened to admit a small girl with bushy brown hair and huge, tear-filled brown eyes.

Neville stood up “Are you okay?"

The girl sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes “I… I asked if I could sit with some girls and they asked who I was and I told them and then, after a bit, they were talking about parents and I said mine were Dentists and they asked me a bit more and then… they called me a mu…mudblood and told me to g… go away!”

The blond opened his mouth as if to say something then, on seeing the outraged expression on Harry’s face, wisely remained silent.

“They never!” Harry cried “That’s illegal, that is!”

“Yeah!” Ron replied, shooting a hard look at Draco.

“Not quite, Harry.” Neville replied, handing a crisp linen handkerchief to the girl and ushering her into a seat. “Hate speech is illegal under the 1986 Act but mere name-calling in a social situation is not; Ministry against Avery, 1989."

Draco gave Neville an appraising look “Planning on going into magical law?”

“No, my father ranted about it for a good week” Neville sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Too right! Calling someone a M… thingy is disgusting.” Harry replied vehemently.

“What does it mean, though?” The girl asked.

Neville grimaced “It’s a nasty word for muggleborns, it means dirty blood.”

“Yeah, some people think that only people whose ancestors are all mages are worth anything” Ron said pointedly, fixing a laser-blue glare on Draco.

“Is… Do many people think that?” the girl asked, brown eyes wide and wary.

“Not many, now.” Harry said stoutly “My Mum’s muggleborn and she’s the best Auror there is!”

Draco looked enquiringly at Neville, who simply smiled and shook his head.

“Anyway, what’s your name?” Ron asked brusquely.

“Hermione, Hermione Granger.”

“I’m Ron, that’s Harry Potter, that’s Neville, and that’s Malfoy!”

“Draco, actually.” the blond boy added coolly.

“Um, pleased to meet you.” The girl looked thoughtful for a moment “Potter… are you any relation to..?”

“Yeah” Harry interrupted “He’s my Dad.”

“Your Dad is the Minister for Magic?” she said squeakily.

“Not to mention Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot” Ron added mischievously, sending a daring glance to Neville, who added, in a bored tone “And vanquisher of Voldemort” he winked at Hermione.

“Wow!”

“Yeah” Harry replied, with a sardonic smile “Dad’s preeetty famous but I’m just Harry, right? Now, what were we talking about, Houses, yeah?” 

“Oh yes, I’ve read up all about them” Hermione said, a trifle more confidently “It seems that Ravenclaw is the best, your father went there Harry.”

“Dumbledore was in Gryff, though” Ron said grumpily “So were my parents and Nev’s; if it wasn’t for them, all Voldemorts little helpers would be running around, calling people mudbloods.”

“Mine were in Slytherin” Draco drawled, glaring at Ron “He had very high standards, Slytherin; practical intelligence and ambition, which is simply bravery with discretion.”

“My Dad says that the sorting hat generally just puts people where they want to go and, if they’ve got no preconceived ideas, they'll generally be chosen on personality and stuff rather than their abilities: most people have a bit of all the traits anyway.”

“And, as each house values its own traits, they’ll shape the students, so like a Hufflepuff will be congratulated if they are kind to someone but, if they cheat, they’ll be told off by their housemates for shaming Hufflepuff.”

“Yeah” Harry nodded “And, actually, Dad says Hufflepuff is the best house.” 

“What?” Draco gasped “But… Hufflepuff just takes the rejects!”

“That’s not a nice very thing to say!” Hermione cried.

“Hufflepuff chose the kindest, loyalest and fairest of the students.” Neville said firmly “It’s a pretty clever idea, actually; Puff’s are no trouble to teach.”

Draco raised his eyebrows “Come to think of it, that was practically Slytherin of her.”

“I heard Slyth liked a challenge” Harry said cheerfully “Dad said Slyth said being the Head was like plotting a battle against eighty enemy states, all of whom he needed to keep at peace.”

Hermione laughed. “Which houses do you think you’ll get into?”

“Gryffindor” Ron said firmly, glaring at Draco, who simply smirked.

“Dunno,” Harry said shrugging “Wherever it puts me, I guess; I have people from all four houses in my family.”

“I don’t mind much” Neville replied “Probably not Slyth though; don’t think I’m all that cunning or ambitious.”

“Slytherin… or maybe Ravenclaw.” Draco said, sharply looking at Harry. When the tousle-haired child’s smile didn’t falter, the blond relaxed.

“I was thinking perhaps Ravenclaw, I’ve always loved school” Hermione said “Though Hufflepuff does sound nice.”

“My mum went there” Harry replied “Dad said it was the nicest house.”

“They met on the train to Hogwarts. It was luuurve at first sight” Ron sniggered.

Harry shoved his friend gently “Don’t be gross!”

“Hey, maybe Harry and Hermione will get married” Ron giggled “Harry and Hermy sitting in a tree”

“I’m sorry about him” Neville said, turning away from Harry (who was vigourously attempting to smother Ron with a cushion), to the furiously blushing Hermione.