It's a good thing these hallways are so wide, Tobias thought, walking in silence next to the two monarchs and the ever-present cat. It was starting to concern him, to find the cat following him so carefully, but then the bodyguards had allowed it, so it was probably safe. Still, there also had to be a reason the monarchs wanted him to have bodyguards. And I'm sure they can deal with one wizard, animagus or no, he reasoned. They'd be pretty sucky bodyguards otherwise. And they didn't look like sucky bodyguards. They looked like damned impressive bodyguards.

The eight walked in a loose box around the large group made up of him and Mo and the two monarchs and the cat. Everyone seemed to respect his distance. The cat stood between him and Sheyanan, and Sheyanan between him and Mohira. There was a bodyguard to his right, but the large, silent unseelie stayed six feet away from him and Mo. Anybody else in the hallway shied around the enormous nonhumans in their midst, lining the sides of the corridor as they watched and whispered. As usual, Tobias tried to ignore it, focusing on the comforting feeling of Mo's hands in his hair. She'd managed to get a hold of the whole braid and held it in both slimy hands, quietly sucking. He let her. If being Heir means I have to treat her differently, then I won't do it, he promised himself silently.

Was this what his life was going to turn into, now? Mobs of bodyguards, and students carefully avoiding him in the hallways? Everyone fearing him again, this time for his position, rather than his appearance? Lucius Malfoy formally requesting an audience with me so he can personally apologize for the behavior of his son because I was too stupid to acknowledge Draco's apology? It was kind of fun, thinking that way about Umbridge, but... Lucius Malfoy is the Elven Ambassador? Did that mean he wasn't really a Death Eater?

None of the People are to have anything to do with this 'lord' or his followers, called Death Eaters. The sole exception to this rule, of course, are those bid by the courts to infiltrate and observe them.

The court could've just not realized that Lucius was a Death Eater, but then it had never been a real secret, at least to the humans. Could one be Ambassador and spy at the same time? Such a person would be important. Really important. And now he's worried he's going to lose that position, because his son insulted a schoolmate? The thought of Draco causing that sort of trouble had a certain appeal. The idea of a person like Lucius Malfoy being forced to grovel to him for it didn't. He didn't like Lucius, but the man wore dignity like a cloak.

They were to meet Dumbledore in a meeting room not far from his office. The walk was not far, and so it wasn't long before they stopped in front of a set of double-doors labeled the 'Longbottom Conference Room'. Tobias had just enough time to think that the Longbottoms must have given money to the school, or something, when the two bodyguards in front opened the double doors wide and announced, “Their Majesties Sheyanan and Mohira-she and their Highnesses Tobias and Moriyana-she, of the Unseelie Court.”

Oh, hell. That sounded a lot more official than Blaise's version. Blaise had sounded serious, sure, but he'd also been being formal as a way of messing with Umbridge, rather than from any real reason. This sounded more like some sort of strange court audience. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life, Tobias. Apparently their grand entrance was too much for the cat, who left as soon as the doors opened.

The room held an oval table with enough room for roughly fifteen people to sit. Dumbledore was sitting towards one end, but stood as the group entered. Tobias followed the two monarchs to sit across the table from him as the bodyguards took their places against the walls.

“Greetings, your Majesties and Highnesses,” Dumbledore said formally. You'd never know that he knew me, Tobias thought, somewhat disturbed.

“Greetings, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Sheyanan responded in kind.

They all sat at once, and Tobias found himself one seat away from the two monarchs, but still closer to them than to Dumbledore, with Mo on his lap still chewing on his braid. The arrangement left him suddenly confused. Was he going to be talking to Dumbledore as one of his students, or as one of the Unseelie? Where were his loyalties, at this point? Then again, I don't really know where Dumbledore's loyalties will be, he realized. Dumbledore at least had been a human political figure. How would he approach this, now that Tobias was with the Court?

Formally, Tobias realized. We already got that. And he still avoided Tobias' eyes.

“You wished to speak with us, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Sheyanan started. “It is only fair that you start.” Somehow that sounded a little unfriendly, Tobias realized. What problem did Sheyanan have with Dumbledore? Or was he imagining it? She was perfectly polite, he told himself. But then she would be, wouldn't she?

A knock at the door prevented further talk, as the nearest bodyguard opened the door to admit a fiercely scowling Professor Snape.

“Ah, Severus,” the headmaster greeted. “Thank you for arriving so promptly.”

Promptly? Seems like the man's late, to me, Tobias reflected silently. What's he doing here, anyway?And why was he so pissed off?

Snape took his seat on Dumbledore's other side as the headmaster started to speak. “I wished to speak to you because events have lead us to a rather difficult conundrum. You see, your Heir Tobias-she is also, by coincidence, our 'boy-who-lived' Harry Potter.”

Tobias startled, staring at Dumbledore dumbly. Did he just- I thought that was a secret!

Not anymore, apparently. Oh thanks, Dumbledore, Tobias thought. Prevent me from telling even my best friends who I am, then just blurt it out to the last people in the world I wanted to know. Then again, he'd been hiding it in order to avoid being Heir, so it wasn't really a problem anymore...Still seems kind of hypocritical. But wait. Dumbledore knew he was the Heir? Maybe one of the monarchs told him? Though he could've just figured it out when the two monarchs showed up on his doorstep asking for him.

To Tobias' surprise, the two monarchs didn't seem particularly shocked by the revelation. Sheyanan cocked her head slightly, and looked at Tobias, but Mohira didn't react at all. “I fail to see how this could be a problem,” he said calmly. “The boy's fame can only help us to reconcile our two worlds. Though of course we would have to explain how 'Harry Potter' could be at Beauxbatons and Hogwarts at the same time.”

He knows I'm supposed to be at Beauxbatons? “Ah,” Dumbledore said lightly, “allow me to explain. I am sure that you have heard of the so-called 'Lord' Voldemort?”

“We have,” Mohira answered neutrally.

“Well you see, Harry plays a rather important role in our struggle against him,” Dumbledore said. “Lord Voldemort knows this. The Ministry is also feeling threatened by him, and me, at the moment, and was also becoming a problem. As such, we chose to have 'Harry' go to Beauxbatons for awhile, and 'Tobias' stay here. He looked so different anyway that we barely had to change anything. I have one of my people at Beauxbatons, pretending to be him, while he stays here, being 'Tobias', and, now, of course, Tobias-she of the Unseelie Court until he can be Harry Potter again and fulfill the role that he was born to.”

Role I was born to? What role?

“Why not just actually send him to Beauxbatons?” Sheyanan asked.

“The boy wished to stay here. Besides that, when the time comes, Harry's task will be difficult, and dangerous. He needs to be ready, and he cannot be if he does not receive the proper schooling, here, at Hogwarts. I hope that this will not be a problem for you.”

“We have no intention of removing him from Hogwarts,” Sheyanan told him. “Provided, of course, that we can arrange something such that he can receive the training and support he needs for us here.”

No intention of removing me? Really? But what sort of training could he get, and still survive in his classes and take care of Mo? How much time did they think he had? And what was this 'role'?

“I'm sure we could work something out,” Dumbledore said.

“I'm sure we can,” Mohira put in smoothly, “but I fail to see why it is so crucial to you that the boy remain at Hogwarts. Unless it is in fact that you are Headmaster here, and so wield a certain control over the boy. I imagine that it has been quite convenient, over the years, to be Harry Potter's only recourse.”

Woah, Tobias thought. That was...interesting.

“Mohira-she,” Sheyanan said, staring at Dumbledore as she admonished her husband lightly. “How could you think so of the Headmaster? After all, he has taken such good care of Tobias in the past.”

They are angry, Tobias realized. Strange. What did they think Dumbledore had done against him? And why do they care? I'm alive.

Dumbledore drew himself up straight, looking affronted. “I assure you, your Majesty, that I have done everything possible to ensure Harry's safety.”

Mohira smiled, exposing canines half again longer than Tobias'. “Ah, yes. Clearly safety must always be our number one priority. The boy must live to fulfill this great destiny that you have for him. But we digress. What is the nature of this 'role' you have imagined for him in your war? Surely you cannot think that because he survived the Dark Lord once, it is his destiny to face him down later?”

“Not for that reason, no,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head, “but the boy's birth and role were prophesied when he was still very young. It has been foretold that one of his description must face the Dark Lord. He is the only one that can take him down.” His last sentence seemed to be directed at Tobias, who abandoned his previous thoughts to stare wide-eyed at him for a moment before speaking.

“You want me to face Voldemort for you,” he stated bluntly. “Alone. You honestly think I'm the one that has to kill him.”

“I am sorry, my boy,” the headmaster started, tone sad, “but-”

“No,” Tobias told him.

The headmaster cut off. “What?”

“No,” Tobias repeated. “I won't do it.”

Dumbledore didn't seem to know what to say. “You would - you would refuse? When you alone can do this, you would allow him to go on killing people, to take over everything?”

“No,” Tobias said more politely, “But I refuse to believe that my facing him in single combat is the only way that this can possibly go down. They,” Tobias said, indicating the two monarchs, “believe it my duty and destiny to be their Heir. I can't be both, and they have a much more convincing argument. Theirs is based in fact, in law. What is some 'prophecy' next to that? Besides that,” he continued, placing a hand on Mo's curls as she tugged his hair, “I don't know if you noticed but I have a child to care for, now. I'm not going to go off and get myself killed over some stupid prophecy.”

“And neither will we allow our Heir to be your pawn in this, Dumbledore,” Sheyanan said, tone surprisingly harsh. “You will have to find someone else.”

“'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,'” Dumbledore recited. “Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ….' That is the prophecy of which we speak. Harry is far more than a 'pawn', I assure you. The only other child born who seemed to fit that description was Neville Longbottom, and he has not been marked by the Dark Lord as Harry was.'”

“Yet,” Snape said, tone clipped and confident as he spoke for the first time.

Dumbledore looked over at him, startled. “Severus?”

“He has not been marked yet, Headmaster,” Snape said, face blank. “He will be, and it is he you must train. Tobias has nothing to do with the prophecy.”

“What can you mean, Severus? He has all the indicators; he has already been marked-”

That brought a sneer. “All of the indicators, Headmaster?” Snape questioned acerbically. “Born to those who have thrice defied the Dark Lord? Born to whom, Dumbledore? The boy's a bastard.” He spat the words, and Tobias found himself cringing at the hate in them.

On his right, the two monarchs watched in silence as Snape and Dumbledore debated something that Tobias himself found he had trouble following.

“His father could still have-”

“He didn't.”

Tobias caught his breath. He knows. He knows who my father is.

“He didn't, Severus? And how would you know that?”

Snape remained silent, fixing Dumbledore with furious look. Suddenly thoughtful, Dumbledore looked from Tobias to Snape and back again. “Yes, there is a resemblance, isn't there? I wonder that I didn't notice it before.”

This was adding up to a picture Tobias really didn't like. “What are you talking about?” he asked finally.

“You cannot discover it on your own, Mr. Bâtard?” Snape asked him icily. “You cannot be Dumbledore's prophesied savior because your parentage does not match the specifications.” He sneered deeper and continued. “Your father has spent his life since he was sixteen obeying the Dark Lord, not defying him.”

My father is a DEATH EATER? And Snape knows him?

“You could still be-” Dumbledore started,

“No,” Snape interrupted harshly. “Lies and deceit are not the same as defiance. I joined up willingly, and have never openly defied any order he has given me.”

I, Tobias thought. He said 'I'. But no, that couldn't be right. Snape was human, and so was Lily. If it were Snape, Tobias would be human, too.

“But the prophecy says born to,” Dumbledore argued, “not born of. Harry was born to the Potters.”

“Perhaps if James had not known, Headmaster,” Snape said, “or if Lily had intended to get pregnant, but he did, and she didn't. The fact that James accepted the boy anyway was more like an adoption. The prophecy therefore fits Longbottom better than Bâtard.”

“Well great then,” Tobias said, starting to lose his temper. “This prophecy which I don't give a damn about anyway has nothing to do with me. Now would somebody, please, tell me who the hell I was 'born to'?”

There was a silence, before Dumbledore coughed lightly and started to speak. “Harry-”

“Me, 'Bâtard.' You were born to me.”

Tobias looked over at Snape, who returned his shocked gaze with a grimace. I could have sworn that that was his voice. But then, who else could it be? He certainly wasn't Dumbledore's kid, or Mohira's. Fuck. But wait - “You can't be my- you're human,” he said, confused.

“Mostly,” Snape corrected. “I am mostly human. And I am not mistaken in this.”

“But-” Tobias protested again.

“In the Greater Fae, as with the elves, the percentage of 'People' blood one carries matters much less than that one has it on both sides,” Dumbledore explained. “You could be 25% Unseelie, by calculation, and 100% in reality. As, I suspect, has happened here. We could use a paternity potion, if that would help you.”

Snape stared at the Headmaster, face completely blank, before turning back to Tobias. “Or you simply could take my word for it. I do remember the night you were conceived.”

Tobias stared at him for a second, disbelieving. For a moment his mouth was too dry to allow him to speak, but finally he managed. “Wow,” he stated, strangely calm. “You're even more of an asshole than I thought.” Mind in a turmoil, he stood up with Mo and walked out of the room.

~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP ~~//~~

Five minutes found Tobias sitting in his deserted common room, alone save for Mo and the same scarred-up black cat. It had streaked up behind him as he'd walked back to his dorm, and followed him the rest of the way. “I dunno who you are as a person,” he told it, “if you're even a person. But you make a bloody ugly cat. And who the hell beat you up so badly?” The cat hissed and swiped at him, but he just pushed it away with a foot. “Careful, Kitty. If there was ever a time I'd be tempted to kick a cat, it'd be now.” The cat gave him a disdainful look and hopped up to hide in a nearby plant.

“Good. Stupid cat.”

Feeling Mo tug on his hair, he sighed and sat back in the chair. “Hi, Mo.” He smiled wanly as she gave him a sloppy grin, his sopping wet braid gripped in both tiny fists. Removing the braid gently from her hands, Tobias gave her his fingers instead. Feeling her grip him strongly, he lifted her up into a stand. She bounced on her knees, but didn't collapse as she used to.

“You 'n me, right baby? So my father hates me. It's not like having my closest relatives hate me is new.” He found his throat closed on the words, and gave up on speaking, instead lifting Mo by the chest to fly her in the air. She was his family. His only family. He'd already known that. That didn't change. Who gave a damn who his biological father was? He'd already decided that James was the one that mattered, and he was dead. So what if his mother had screwed- oh. Eww. Yeah, don't think about that.

Snape. The whole time, his mother had been referring to Snape. The 'old friend' she'd met in the bar. The 'good man' who'd 'made some mistakes.' Mistakes like joining the Dark Lord, Mum? Abruptly Tobias lowered Mo to his chest, marveling once again how she could be so happy at his worst moments. Gripping her carefully, he stood and entered his room to dig around in his trunk for the original letter. Finding it, he brought it back to the common room with him. Tucking Mo into the crook of his arm, he read it over again. He found his lips lifting off his teeth at his mother's words.

'I met an old friend there, one whom I had not seen since we had left Hogwarts. He was a good man, I think, but he made some terrible decisions. I am not in a good position to judge, I suppose. Long story short, we stayed a long time, and drank too much. It was cold, and his apartment was closer, which gave me the needed excuse to stay the night. When I left the next morning, though I did not know it immediately, I was pregnant with you.'

Yeah Mom. Pregnant with me. The bastard son of a man who hates me. Just great. It was ironic, actually. Snape hated his bastard son, because he'd hated Tobias' cuckolded 'father'. Well great, Snape. You really get the last laugh, don't you? Or maybe Tobias did. Oh, yeah. I'm laughing. Then again, neither was Snape. Of course not. He never wanted a son. Screwing James' wife might've been satisfying at the time, but Snape clearly didn't think it funny now. He'd made that damned clear. The boy's a bastard.

'...You may notice I do not use your father's name. I know he is a good man, but he avoids me like I carry a plague. He is not well liked by our current crowd, for a variety of reasons, and is not a happy man. I believe he can't stand to see the family I have built. The point is, I don't know where his life has led him, or will have led him in 14 years' time. Perhaps putting his name in a letter would be dangerous to him. I cannot know, and so I must not say. I do want you to know your father, however. Whatever he was before, he is a good man now...

Once again, Mum. 'Whatever he was before?' You mean a Death Eater? That's hardly like asking me to forgive him for having been a drunk, or something. Hell, he's one of the ones that killed you. And how the hell did she know if he was a good man? He hardly went out of his way to be nice. She was right on one point, though. He would never describe Snape as 'happy'.

'...Please do not blame your father, if he lives and you find him again. He knew none of this, and though he and James never got on, I am sure he did not intend to interfere with my marriage. He was a very lonely and troubled child. He is possibly an even more lonely and troubled man. Please forgive him, even if you cannot forgive me. I know it is a lot to ask, but please approach him with an open mind and an open heart. He is...not the most easily approachable human being, but he has every reason to be the way he is, and he would certainly never harm you...'

He wouldn't, would he? He's hated me since I set foot in the school, Mum. And even more since he'd figured out that Tobias was his son, he suddenly realized. That's why. That's why he's been so horrible. I'm a bastard. I am his bastard son. He would rather I not exist.

Jesus. He'd been so stupid. He'd told Snape he was a bastard. The professor had known for weeks. Only Tobias was stupid enough to not figure it out. A 'good man' who 'made mistakes.' 'Not the most easily approachable human being'. His reaction to Tobias' admission that he was a bastard. Remembering what else he'd said to Snape then, he almost choked. My father, as in the man who threw himself in front of the so-called 'Dark Lord' in order to save my life, not the man who got drunk and screwed around with a married woman without even using proper protection. He'd never have had the courage to say that to Snape, if he'd realized. Thinking of Snape, he felt a growl building in his throat. But then again, maybe I would've.

Please do seek out your father. He is a good man, and I think you could be good for him.

Sure, Mum. I'm sure Snape would love to be my Daddy dearest. 'Cause he's been treating me so well since he's known. No wonder the man had been so detention-happy. Bloody hell. He'd never've guessed how much worse it was to be someone's bastard son, than to just not know who his father was. It's not. It's not worse. I just have to ignore it, is all. But previously, at least he'd been wanted. 'Lily never intended to get pregnant,' Tobias remembered Snape saying. The only one who had wanted Tobias, then, was James. James, who'd accepted someone else's bastard son. And who'd gotten killed for it. That fucking prophecy. No wonder Voldemort wanted me dead so badly.

Reminded of the detentions, though, Tobias looked down at the back of his hand. If being the man's son was the reason that Snape'd been so horrible to him, was it also the reason the man had protected him from Umbridge? There was absolutely no reason Snape should've acted the way he did with Umbridge, except for Tobias' sake. The man had hardly wanted Tobias' gratitude for it, though. Then why'd he do it? He hates me. But then, he'd also healed Mo even though he hated Tobias, not yet knowing that Tobias was his son. So, fine, he actually is a good man...sort of. Enough that he wouldn't let an innocent baby die. Enough that he'll go out of his way to save me a couple scratches, when he hates me? Unlikely. But, for some reason, he had. But then what do I care? He doesn't matter.

What was he even doing thinking about it? He didn't have the time. He should be thinking about the court, about Mohira and Sheyanan and how the fuck he was going to figure out being their Heir and Mo's daddy and a student and a teenage boy all at the same time. God, I'm so tired, he realized suddenly. All he wanted to do was sleep for a year. And I need to feed and change Mo, he realized as he heard her start to fuss. And eat.

Bloody hell, it was like that was all that kept him moving anymore. Feed Mo, change Mo, get Mo to sleep. Do as much of his schoolwork as possible. Occasionally eat and sleep himself. Try not to think about all the fucking shit that was going down in his life. Feeling his eyes start to burn, he fought the feeling back angrily and stuffed the letter into Mo's diaper bag. Fishing around, he found the pocket where he typically stashed the diapers and pulled one out. Next he pulled out the portable changing pad and laid it on the couch next to him. Mo squealed and kicked as he removed her clothing, but he'd gotten good at changing her and so had no trouble.

When that was done, he washed his hands quickly and called Zuka to bring him lunch and oatmeal for Mo. When they'd both eaten, he found he'd run out of excuses: he had to return to the meeting with Dumbledore. Or just with the court. I don't know if I particularly care about Dumbledore, right now. After all, the man couldn't even be bothered to look at him. The boy must live to fulfill this great destiny that you have for him. Was that all it was? All the extra attention Dumbledore had given him - he'd always just accepted it. He'd thought that maybe it was because of his parents, but then, that was a lot of what Sirius' and Remus' connection to him had been, too. Neither of the two had attempted to contact Tobias again, after he'd left Grimmauld Place. Neither had Dumbledore. I suppose keeping me alive doesn't require him to look at me.

A knock on the common room door shook him out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called. “Watch the Guardenia.”

The door opened to reveal Fred and George Weasely.

“Guardenia?” Fred asked him.

“Yeah,” he answered. “It's a guard plant. It's supposed to judge intent, or something, but mostly it doesn't like people. We've got all kinds of nicknames for it.”

George grinned. “Like...?”

“They're pretty bad,” Tobias said, returning George's smile as best he could. “Fortsythia, Fernicullis, tromp-it vine, you-nipper, Rhodahenchman...”

“Brilliant,” Fred opined, before his face took on a serious mien. “But there's no time. Come with us.”

“Where?”

“One of the unused classrooms,” George said.

“It's got a peep-hole cut in one of the walls adjacent to the conference room with your new folks,” Fred explained. “Sound comes through clear as if we were using one of our own products.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Did they know-?

“Never mind that,” George took up again. “We've got something you'll want to hear.”

~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP ~~//~~

“...the man you have had guarding him?” Mohira was saying. Tobias put his eye to the hole, first, but found he couldn't hear as well, that way, and turned his ear instead. Fred and George stayed silent at his side, absently petting the ugly black cat as they listened with him.

“Indeed. He is one of my most trusted people, and most dedicated to keeping Harry alive,” Dumbledore was saying.

“Are you so certain, Headmaster?” Sheyanan asked, “I could've sworn he wanted the boy dead, from the way he looked at him.”

“Severus is...complicated,” Dumbledore answered him. “But believe me. He will guard that boy with his life, if needs be. He has been doing so for several years. Knowing what he knows now will only strengthen that.”

“He hardly treats the boy as his son,” Mohira rumbled.

“Oh, certainly not,” Dumbledore answered, “but then he is quite convinced that he hates Harry.”

“As am I,” Sheyanan answered him.

“I am not,” Dumbledore said. “In fact, I suspect he is mostly angry with me. As I said, Severus is a complicated man. You will notice that he has not ceased in his guarding, now that Harry knows.”

“But he has to sleep, and he is one of your teachers, is he not?” Sheyanan said, sounding skeptical.

“Do not worry, Your Majesty,” Dumbledore answered. “Harry is watched at all times, especially this year. Several of his teachers are my most trusted people, and they take it in shifts to watch Harry in his other classes.”

“Without the boy's knowledge?” Mohira questioned.

“Without anyone's knowledge. It was imperative for Harry's safety that he be taken for any other student.”

“And you did not trust him to keep the secret himself, even after hiding his identity for all this time?” Sheyanan questioned.

“Harry had enough on his mind without needing to keep yet another secret. I chose to allow him to settle in at Hogwarts as he wished to.”

“Without contacting us.” Mohira's tone was blunt, and a trifle chilly.

“I thought it might be useful to all of us, to see how the Ministry reacted to his presence. And I knew that you would find him eventually.”

“He told us where he was.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore answered. “That, I must say, I had not expected. That and his immediate alliance with the Zabini boy.”

“Neither of which are quite convenient for you or your Ministry,” Mohira pointed out.

“Oh, no,” Dumbledore said. “I find them both quite convenient, precisely because they will make things difficult for the Ministry. You may be able to help me clean them out, with Harry's cooperation.”

“We will discuss discuss nothing without Tobias present,” Mohira responded.

“Of course, of course,” Dumbledore answered him. “That may have to wait, however. I believe he will want some time to himself.”

“Indeed,” Sheyanan said. “Protecting the boy the man may be, but that was not kindly done.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said sadly. “Severus is rarely kind.”

Abruptly, Tobias found he didn't want to hear anymore. “I'm done, guys, thanks,” he said, standing up carefully and turning away from the tiny hole in the classroom wall.

“Harry,” one of them called as he walked away.

He turned back. “Don't call me that.”

It came out harsher than he meant it, and George winced. “Your Highness?”

“Oh!” Tobias said. “No. Just Tobias, please.”

“Tobias. Y'all right, mate?”

He gave them a slight smile. “I will be.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” he answered. “Definitely, definitely no.”

~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP ~~//~~ HP ~~//~~

When Tobias returned to the Conference room, the cat once again disappeared as the bodyguards opened the door. This time they did not announce him, and he walked into the smaller meeting to take his place one seat away from the two monarchs, and across from Dumbledore. Both parties looked at him with surprise.

“Tobias-she,” Sheyanan said. “We do not have to do this now. It can wait a day or so.”

“Why would we wait?” Tobias asked her, hearing his tone come out slightly harsh.

For a moment Mohira met his eyes, and Tobias was surprised to find some sympathy in the older fae's gaze. Tobias looked away, and Mohira spoke. “Very well.” Turning to Dumbledore, he said, “we were discussing balancing Tobias' training and school schedule.”

“I don't have any more time,” Tobias told them. “Like I said before, I'm barely keeping up in my classes as it is.”

“Yes,” Sheyanan agreed. “Your schedule is much too full. We'll arrange it so that you have more free time, as well as enough time to dedicate to your training and preparation.”

Tobias frowned, somewhat surprised by her agreement. "What do I need to learn?" he asked her.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "Diplomacy, most importantly. Deportment. History. Politics. Foreign Language."

"Defensive combat," Mohira said.

"He's already taking Defense Against the Dark Arts, and History of Magic," Dumbledore told them.

"There is more to history than magic," Sheyanan told him.

"And more to the Dark Arts than defense," added Mohira gruffly.

"You propose to teach him the Dark Arts?" Dumbledore sounded startled.

"Some of them. Our definition of 'Dark Arts' is a good bit narrower than the Ministry's," Sheyanan explained. "We would certainly not teach him your 'unforgivables,' for example, but there are plenty of very effective spells that are only 'Dark' based on how you use them."

"And the boy needs to learn to actually fight, not just cast spells," Mohira said firmly. "And not just non-lethal ones, either."

Tobias swallowed. He wasn't sure he wanted to learn lethal spells, though he could see the practicality of it.

"How do you propose to fit that into Harry's schedule?" Dumbledore put in. "He's already taking Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures, in addition to the other two mentioned."

"History and Foreign Language can wait," Sheyanan suggested, looking at her husband. "Diplomacy, Politics, Deportment, and Combat can't."

In the end, Tobias found his Hogwarts schedule wittled down to Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms. He'd understood about Transfiguration and Charms - they both taught the most basic, everyday magic that everyone should know - but he'd balked at the other.

"Potions?" he'd asked. "What do I need those for?"

"It is considered basic to the education of any young nobleman that he be capable of brewing the more basic potions. You ought to be taking a music or art lessons, too, but we don't have the time for it."

"So I'm taking Potions just because it's what 'one' does?"

"Yes," Mohira said definitely, “but not only because. I do not know if you heard, but this 'Sorting Hat' belonging to Headmaster Dumbledore requested when you first came here that you remain in the class with the 'Gryffindors' and 'Slytherins'. I asked about it, and as it turns out, the hat wished you to have contact with as many of the other People at Hogwarts as possible, especially one Blaise Zabini, heir presumptive to the Seelie Court. We agree that this was a good idea, and of the three courses you are currently taking with the Gryffindors and Slytherins, Potions is the most useful. You will already be taking Combat, and we will teach you about Magical beings, not the humans.”

“Hagrid is a half-giant,” Tobias defended absently, something else entirely on his mind. “And he takes care not to teach about sentient beings but only magical creatures.”

Mohira inclined his head, clearly conceding the point, but said only, “Nonetheless, Potions would be far more useful.”

Tobias clenched his teeth and tried to explain calmly. "My..." I am a bastard. I knew that. He would not shrink from it. "My father is teaching that class," he said. "It could be...awkward."

Sheyanan winced, but Mohira just regarded him calmly. "Can you handle it?"

His voice held a challenge, and Tobias found himself lifting his chin in defiance. God he's an asshole. He wouldn't say so in front of Dumbledore, though. "Yes." As long as Snape doesn't fail me.

His other classes, it turned out, would be taught largely by private tutors, who would floo to Hogwarts in order to teach him. "This way," Sheyanan had explained, "you won't miss anything if you need to take care of Moriyana. The class can simply be moved."

"Great," Tobias said, "I knew this would take over my entire life."

Mohira raised an eyebrow. "You've had fifteen years without it. Was it really so much better?"

"I had friends," Tobias countered.

"For three quarters of the year," Mohira answered back.

Tobias frowned. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"Easy," Mohira told him. "We tracked you back to Privet Drive, and forward to the Bloody Mary and even Diagon Alley, before we lost your trace. We eventually gave up on the idea that you could be Harry Potter because there was a plausible version of you at Beauxbatons that was clearly human. In the meantime, though, we learned quite a bit about Harry Potter, as well as about the Headmaster's so-called 'care' of you."

Tobias at Dumbledore, to find the man frowning fiercely. "What do you mean?"

"The headmaster placed you in that home, did he not?" Mohira questioned him.

"Well yeah," Tobias said. "They're my only relatives."

"And he never removed you from it afterward?" Sheyanan asked next.

"No," Tobias said. "Why should he? I was fine."

Mohira met his eyes, and Tobias felt impelled to be honest. "Well, no I didn't like it there, but I lived, and anyway where else was I supposed to go?"

"Indeed," Sheyanan asked, looking at Dumbledore. "There was nowhere else he could have gone?"

"He was safe there," Dumbledore said, anger clear in his tone.

The look on Mohira's face made Tobias shiver. It felt like the whole room had frozen. “You have a very strange definition of 'safe', Headmaster Dumbledore,” Mohira responded, his voice a low rumble, “unless, perhaps, you simply have no knowledge of the conditions under which the boy was living.”

“I have been watching Harry carefully since I placed him there,” Dumbledore retorted.

“So you know that he was habitually locked in his room, then,” Mohira said. His tone was light, but his face told a different story. “Interesting.”

“Like you said,” Sheyanan answered him, “the headmaster has a very 'interesting' definition of 'safe.' Apparently 'safe' for him includes being underfed and overworked, as well.”

“Not to mention kicked to the curb as soon as he started the changes normal to a switch,” Mohira replied, the lightness starting to leave his voice, replaced by heavy sarcasm. “But then, the streets are so 'safe' these days, aren't they? Especially for a new switch, or, for that matter, the Boy Who Lived.”

"I was fine," Tobias repeated again.

“Interesting that he didn't seek out his headmaster for help, isn't it?” Sheyanan asked, tone still light.

“He preferred to seek out the help of complete strangers. I wonder why, when Dumbledore has been so supportive of him in the past.”

"And the boy was clearly already used to being disliked and neglected by those who should have protected him," Mohira agreed, face and tone equally angry. "Why would he care if his Headmaster treated him the same way?"

"I'm right here," Tobias tried, irritated.

“I had no choice,” Dumbledore told the two of them angrily. “Do you think I wanted to leave Harry there? Do you think it was easy, keeping him alive all these years with the Death Eaters after him?”

“Bodyguards,” Mohira told him. “Allow him to stay at Hogwarts during school breaks. Send him to wherever it was you hid him this summer. My people could not find him.”

“I wanted to give Harry the most normal life I could offer him. Is that such an evil thing, to you?”

“Actually, yes,” Mohira told him. “I find locking an eleven-year-old boy in a closet evil. And hardly normal.”

"Please," Tobias found himself saying. Nobody heard him.

"I had no choice!" the headmaster exclaimed again, raising his voice angrily.

"Please!" Tobias finally yelled. "It's over, okay? Just let it bloody go!"

"It is not over if we cannot trust the Headmaster to care for your well-being beyond your immediate safety, Tobias," Mohira told him. "And his past record is abysmal."

"And I can take care of myself, thank you!" Tobias told him. "I don't need a bloody rescue. And it's not like he can send me back there, again. I'd worry more about the secrets he's been keeping, than about his ability at babysitting."

"You were listening," Mohira surmised.

"Yes," Tobias answered without shame. "And I would like to know who else has been guarding me, please."

"It says a lot about your level of security here, Headmaster, that a fifteen-year-old boy can find a way to listen in on a private conference between the headmaster and he monarchs of another country," Sheyanan pointed out.

"Firrneth," Mohira instructed. To Tobias' surprise, the guard in question pulled out a wand and began casting. Somehow he hadn't thought of the big guards as magical, though of course they were.

"You brought your own security, your Majesties, and our talk was not a particularly sensitive one," Dumbledore said. "Your secrets are safe."

Tobias snorted. "Maybe theirs are, but what about mine, and Snape's? You really think it's not a problem, that Fred and George Weasley know that I'm Harry Potter and my father is Severus Snape? It could just as easily have been anyone else. Unless Snape really is a Death Eater, and you want him dead? Then it'd be pretty clever, actually. Nobody would've known why the Death Eaters suddenly decided to kill one of their own..."

"Tobias has a point," Sheyanan said, then looked at Tobias pointedly, "though he could have put it more politely."

Tobias grimaced, frustrated. He did not want to allow the monarchs to control his speech, but had did have to be polite to people if he was going to be their Heir. Which is why I don't want it. And it wasn't like the monarchs had been real polite themselves, beforehand.

"Are Fred and George Weasley likely to be dangerous?" Sheyanan asked.

"No," Tobias said. "You're not going to find better blokes than Fred and George, and they can be trusted to keep a secret even if I apparently can't." He directed his last words to Dumbledore. "Who is guarding me?" he asked again.

"In addition to- your father?" Dumbledore asked. Tobias grimaced but nodded, and Dumbledore continued. "Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks."

Kingsley Shacklebolt – oh of course, that was the big black man with the earring. And Tonks and McGonagall. "Good enough," Tobias said, trying for the light tone the monarchs had used, "though I'd have preferred to know they were there."

"You heard my reasoning," Dumbledore told him, still avoiding his eyes, though his voice held no remorse.

"Yes, I did," Tobias said. "And if I'd still been eleven it would've made sense. As it is I'm left wondering who were actually friends, and who Order members."

"Your guards were instructed not to make friends with you. All of the friends you made were genuine."

Well that's good, at least. "Fine," Tobias said, voice clipped.

"In the future, though," Sheyanan said, turning back to Dumbledore, "we would request full disclosure on all measures related to our Heir or his safety. We would not want anything to be left unaccounted for that could potentially provoke an...incident. And, of course, Tobias himself is to be kept informed as well."

"Of course, your Majesty," Dumbledore answered, his smile looking a bit forced. "Openness on all sides would certainly be best."

"Oh, no, Headmaster," Mohira answered him, tone not quite as controlled as his wife's. "You have misunderstood us. Tobias is our Heir, and so we rightly request to be kept appraised of all decisions made on his behalf. On the other hand, for his safety we regret that we must keep many things in full confidence. We cannot afford any mistakes, you will understand."

"I had hoped to cooperate with your Majesties regarding Harry's future," Dumbledore answered, clearly tense.

"And we had assumed you would realize that the boy is no longer under your control," Mohira answered bluntly. "He is your student, but he is our heir and legally our ward. We would consider discussing things with this Severus Snape is he so wishes, but other than arranging things specific to his classes here at Hogwarts, you have no place in such discussions."

"I have been keeping Harry safe for the last fourteen years!" Dumbledore protested angrily.

"And during that time he has been abused by his relatives, attacked by four of his own teachers, and kidnapped by Voldemort, Headmaster. You can understand why we doubt the validity of your decisions regarding him." To Tobias' surprise, it was Sheyanan that said it, voice grim.

“I cannot be expected to know everything about everyone I hire,” Dumbledore argued back fiercely.

“The world today is dangerous. Lupin is one of the best teachers I have ever hired. Moody and Quirrell were acting on the Dark Lord's orders. I cannot predict and counter Voldemort's every move. I had to hire somebody. Whether he is actually the subject of prophecy or not, he is number one on Voldemort's hit list. Can you truly expect me to protect him from everything?"

"No, Headmaster," Mohira said coolly, "we cannot. Which is precisely why we are relieving you of that responsibility."

Dumbledore stared at the large fae for a moment,making Tobias wonder if he would get angry, then hung his head in defeat. "Very well," he said. "I only hope that you have a better record than I."

Woah, Tobias thought, looking back and forth between the two monarchs and Dumbledore. He'd never seen anybody face down Dumbledore like that. Let alone face him down and win. And they'd seemingly done it for his sake. Could be just politics, though, he thought. Putting them in charge of my safety, and not telling Dumbledore things that they don't want to. But then, they'd seemed genuinely angry, speaking about the Dursleys and the danger he'd courted at Hogwarts. And Dumbledore almost seemed to agree with them. He'd argued, but then he'd seemed to just...give up. Strange.

At any rate, the negotiations went easier after that, as Mohira, Sheyanan, and Dumbledore discussed the details of Tobias' schedule, and nothing else. Dumbledore was quiet, for the most part offering only advise on Hogwarts' schedule without trying to control any of the decisions made. Tobias found himself feeling somewhat useless, as he understood little of the discussion - what the hell was Deportment, and what was so important about it? - and so could only make the occasional comment about Mo's sleeping habits and his own preferences. Finally Mo rescued him, fussing continuously until he had to leave and get her lunch and a nap. I could eat, too, he realized as he left. The drama since the monarchs had arrived had already taken several hours, and he only really picked at the lunch Zuka had brought for him. I think I'll skip Transfigurations, just this once, he thought. I've bloody well earned it.

Tobias-she, Tobias read, We realize this has been a difficult day for you, but we still have some issues to attend to, and Mohira and I must return to the Court as soon as we can. Would you meet with us again?

Tobias scrubbed his hands over his eyes. Do I have to?

Yeah. Where and when? He wrote back.

The answer came almost immediately. As soon as you can, please, and in the antechamber off the Great Hall. Do you know where that is?

Tobias sighed. Apparently it really is urgent. Yeah, that's fine.

Five minutes found him and Mo in the company of the two monarchs, their guards, and a veritable army of other people. Most were Unseelie, but not all - Tobias found he could identify several brownies, a werewolf, and an actual Satyr in the crowd.

Announced by the guards, Tobias found himself the main focus of attention of the entire crowd.

"Tobias-she, thank you," Sheyanan said, obviously relieved to see him. "We wanted to introduce you to your servants, bodyguards, and teachers," she said.

Tobias swallowed. MY servants and bodyguards? Bodyguards he'd anticipated, and he should have anticipated servants, but - there was really an insane number of people in the room. Swallowing again to try and get some moisture in his mouth, he spoke quietly. "C-could I talk to your Majesties for a moment?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00o

There's an antechamber off the antechamber? Tobias thought, confused. At least it wasn't full of reporters.

"What do you need, Tobias-she?" Sheyanan asked him.

Tobias just stared at her for a moment, finding himself distressingly unable to think. "I." Hmm. Get it together man. "That's a - lot of people," he finally said stupidly.

Mohira gave him the usual just-slightly-mocking smile. "Sixteen bodyguards, four teachers, and a bare minimum of servants."

Twenty, plus the servants, Tobias translated. "How many servants is a 'bare minimum?'" he asked the man, trying to at least sound polite.

Mohira's grin widened. "Six. Two body servants, a servant to look after your clothing, two to care for your rooms, and one to look after young Moriyana when you can't."

Tobias nodded mutely, having no idea what to say to that.

"You'll get used to them," Sheyanan explained. "They'll help keep your room and clothing clean for you, and will help you with some of the formal hair and dress styles."

"I am capable of dressing myself," he told her.

"Even I cannot do some of the formal hairstyles Eleni helps me with," Sheyanan told him.

"Then I'll just leave my hair as it is," he told her. "I'm at school, not court."

"Many of our allies' children go to Hogwarts, Tobias-she," Mohira explained. "You will want to look like you are ready for court."

"You'll want me to look ready for court," Tobias retorted.

"Yes," Mohira said, meeting Tobias' eyes squarely. "I will want that."

"You can't always get what you want," Tobias told him, refusing to be cowed.

"You said you would cooperate with us," Mohira replied. "In time, you will be knowledgeable enough to make your own decisions on matters of deportment and politics. For now, though, you will have to simply trust us."

"Why should I trust you?" Tobias demanded.

Sheyanan frowned, looking slightly distressed. Mohira just met his eyes again and spoke bluntly. "You already know we don't want you dead, or you wouldn't have allowed Moriyana in the same room with us," he answered. "And you have every reason to trust us in this context as well, because we obviously want to use you to consolidate our own power. We have no motivation to lead you wrong."
Very practical, Tobias realized. And honest. I like that, at least. "All right," he said, "how about this? Why should I trust you that this particular point of politics is important enough to be worth the inconvenience for me? "

"Once again, you'll have to trust us."

"Sight unseen."

"Either that or drive our Kingdom into the ground," Mohira answered, sounding almost like he didn't care one way or the other. "It really is your choice."

"This hair thing is that important," Tobias stated skeptically.

"Wearing your hair down or in the simple tail you are wearing now would be the equivalent of the Prime Minister wearing dreadlocks," Mohira told him bluntly. "Worse, actually, because wearing long hair down is traditional among the elflords. You would insult them and offend our own subjects."

Tobias winced. Ooookay, fancy hair it is, then. "I concede the point," he said more formally.

"Good," Mohira said.

"I'll grant you the one servant, and even two bodyguards," Tobias answered back, meeting Mohira's eyes challengingly. "Five servants and fourteen bodyguards to go, then."

"Three bodyguards each for you and Moriyana when you are together, four when you're apart. Then double to give you both night and day guards," Mohira said.

"You don't think that a little excessive?" Tobias asked him.

"No."

He was obviously dead serious.

Oooookay then. "Fine then," Tobias said. "Five servants to go."

"One body servant for your hair and clothing, and another to fetch things for you. You'll need somebody to be on-call at all times, so these can't be the same person. One servant to keep your clothing in good order, and another for your rooms. And obviously one to care for Moriyana. We know that you've been having a human woman help you, but your ability to leave Mo has been seriously limited by the fact that she is human. That person must be People."

"And you honestly think I'm going to hand her off to a complete stranger. Really," Tobias said.

"We had thought to allow the two of you time to get acquainted first," Sheyanan said. "And no, we don't know how long that will take. It depends on your personality, and whether you get on with the woman at all."

"I have a better solution," Tobias said. "Zuka, would you come here, please?"

The little brownie popped in. "Master Fae is needing some-eek!" The poor brownie took one look at the two monarchs and popped behind Tobias' back. "Zuka is being very sorries, Masters your Majesties!" she said. "Zuka is not used to-" She fell silent, pulling on her ears.

"This is Zuka," Tobias explained to the monarchs. "She's been making food for Mo and me. Brownies are supposed to be reliable and loyal, aren't they? I've not known Zuka for long, but she's done very well by me, and Mo likes her." Really, Mo liked pulling on Zuka's ears, but Zuka had never uttered a word of complaint.

"That's acceptable to me," Sheyanan said, then looked up at her husband.

"The child will have bodyguards of her own, when the the two are separate," Mohira answered. "I have no objections."

"Zuka," Tobias said, turning around to face the brownie, but making sure his body was between her and her view of the impressive monarchs. "Do you want to? You don't have to."

"Zuka be Master Fae's brownie?" Zuka asked him.

"Yeah," Tobias said. "To help me take care of Mo, and stuff."

"You...You really means it, Master Fae, sir?"

"Yeah, Zuka. Of course."

Zuka stared at him for a moment, eyes very wide, before promptly bursting into tears.

"Zuka is never never having such an honor as this, sir, but Zuka is just young brownie. I has never cared for little ones before, Master Fae, sir! You wants Zuka care for little big one?! For little princess, Master Fae, sir?"

Tobias watched the weeping brownie, totally at a loss, but Sheyanan smiled. "Please will you do this for us, Zuka? Tobias trusts you, that is the most important to us. We would be very happy if you would be willing to help Tobias care for Moriyana."

Zuka looked up through long wet lashes and peered around Tobias' legs to look at the queen and nod. "Yes, your Majesty, ma'am. Zuka likes Master Tobias and Mistress little big one very much. Very much wants to helps with little mistress." Finally she smiled. "Thank you, Master Majesties and Highness sirs and ma'ams. Zuka is very happy!"

Tobias smiled. The brownies way of speaking was somehow really charming. "Good," he told her.

"We will call you again when we need you, Zuka," Sheyanan said. Zuka bowed and popped out.

"Well that was easy," Sheyanan commented. "Good choice, Tobias. She's utterly devoted to you. I have no doubt that she will serve you very well."

"So, Mohira commented, "four servants to go."

"I really need one just to take care of my clothing?"" Tobias asked, "in addition to the one helping me dress?""

Sheyanan frowned. "He's right, Mohira. He is not at court. He need not always be in formal attire. Perhaps it would be better if he looked more like the other students."

"Like, and yet not like," Mohira said. "He needs nicer clothing than he is wearing now. But perhaps we could compromise."

"I am sure Geeralda could manage something," Sheyanan said. "Perhaps if she made him nicer Hogwarts robes, and we arranged it so the rest of his attire left nothing to doubt?"

"It has to be that clear, who I am?" Tobias asked.

"It is polite," Sheyanan explained. "It does not do to have our nobles offending you without realizing who they are speaking to."

"Plus it must be obvious that we have accepted you as ours, especially after the rather public matter of your disappearence," Mohira added.

"Hey I wasn't advertising anything," he told them, mildly irritated.

Sheyanan hid a grin behind a hand and looked at her husband. "He's got you there, Mohira."

"Perhaps," Mohira said blandly, no trace of a smile on his sharp features. "I suppose I must remedy it, then. I propose bright purple robes. With peacock feathers. And gemstones on the collar and cuffs."

"You win," Tobias told him hurriedly, throwing up a hand. "Definitely was totally my fault. I propose a grunge look, complete with wrinkled robes and dirty, matted hair."

"I believe the goal was to change your appearance, Tobias-she," Sheyanan told him.

Was that a joke? "Hey. The jailbird look is in these days," he told them.

"So are peacock feathers," Sheyanan informed him matter-of-factly. "At least at court."

"We'll start a new fashion," Tobias suggested urgently.

She smiled at him. "Precisely. I'll contact our seamstress immediately."

Tobias stared at her. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all," she said. "But don't forget, you suggested it." She looked far to pleased with herself.

Oh, damn. I lose. Note to self: don't argue with Sheyanan. He at least occasionally got one over on Mohira.

"That's not about servants, though," he said. "Just clothing. Does my clothing really need so much taking care of that I need a servant just for that?"

"Not if we're careful in the fabrics we're using," Sheyanan said, speaking before Mohira got a chance. "I'll tell Geeralda. But yes, you do need the other four," she said before Tobias could say anything. "In case you need to get up at night, you need to be taken care of, and it does not do to have you spending time caring for your own chambers."

Tobias gritted his teeth. "I did not want servants in the first place," he told her.

"I'm curious, Tobias," Mohira said. "Were you planning on attending all your lessons, doing all of your studying, caring for Mo, attending to your own toilette, and cleaning your own room, or were you planning on neglecting one or all of those? Your training, or your daughter? Or were you going to live in squalor?"

"Mohira, be kind," Sheyanan admonished.

"I apologize," Mohira said, dipping his head in deference to his wife before meeting Tobias' eyes again with his disconcertingly focused gaze. Tobias found himself looking away, staring at the wall in frustration and a growing sense of dispair. I never wanted this. Oh, God did I not want this.

"I'm sorry, Tobias-she," Sheyanan said. Her tone was soft, and sounded genuinely sad, but Tobias found that he still didn't want to look at the two monarchs. He'd never thought that his life could come down around his ears more than it already had. He tried to remind himself that not all of this was their fault - that he wouldn't give up Moriyana even if he could, that his training was probably going to be better than his classes at Hogwarts, that he'd chosen initially to hide from his friends, that they'd never even met Snape until that day - but it didn't matter. He didn't have a thing in the world to hold onto, other than a 6-month-old baby who could never support his weight. She was a reason to live. She was family. She could not make any of this easier on him. Nobody could. Once again, tears pricked his eyes, and he fought them back with a savage will. He would not show his weakness to the two monarchs.

"Very well, sir," he finally said, meeting Mohira's eyes squarely, and speaking coldly. "Anything else?"

"Medical exams, for both you and Moriyana," Mohira answered him, not acknowledging Tobias' bitter tone. "And soon. Moriyana needs her sixth-month check-up, and as a switch you should've been checked out long ago."

"As your Majesty orders," Tobias said, voice clipped. "Shall I go meet my keepers, then?"

Tobias's “keepers” weren't any fewer, or any less intimidating, when he re-entered the room after his talk with the monarchs. The room was full of people, and they all looked up curiously when he came in beside their Queen and Consort. He could tell most of the guards because they were uniformed, and those he could see were all fully adult unseelie sidhe. They were also arranged in a rough line against the walls of the room, giving them a certain coherence that the rest of the group lacked. Mostly, there were a lot of them, and they were huge.

And his lips were coming up off his teeth in response, Tobias realized. Stop it, he told himself. They're guards. It's good that they're big. With Moriyana in his arms, though, it was hard to ignore them. He was outclassed in a way that he hadn't been since spending time with Bighana in the kitchen, and he hadn't had Moriyana to worry about then. With effort, Tobias turned his attention to the rest of the room.

The rest of the group was much less organized than the guards, and much more diverse. Besides the satyr, brownies, and werewolf he'd seen before, there was at least one goblin or dwarf, and some other type of big winged fae - smaller than the unseelie, with smaller horns and colorfully webbed wings instead of black. It made them look more like the butterfly-winged little folk than Tobias did – like a missing link, almost, between the two.

The features reminded him a bit of Blaise Zabini, Tobias realized. Perhaps he was seelie sidhe? Though if Blaise had wings, he'd been wearing charms on them all the time Tobias had known him. Surely the 'seelie' and the 'unseelie' fae would both have wings, though?

Ugh. He understood so little about the fae, still. For all he knew, the seelie and unseelie were as unrelated as brownies and goblins.

He suspected there were more people he couldn't even see in the crowd, but the People came in such varying sizes he couldn't be sure. Consort Mohira was enormous, he realized again. He'd noticed how much bigger Mohira was than Tobias when they'd first met, but now he realized that the man was also bigger than most of the guards. Whom Tobias was not noticing or worrying about or especially growling at.

Someone was pulling his hair, he realized. He looked down at his little daughter, and couldn't help but smile. She had a thin blue-black lock of his hair wrapped around her perpetually-slimy fist and was happily slobbering all over it. When Mohira had just told him how important it was that his hair be presentable. Great. At least she wasn't fussing, though. “Hi Monster,” he said softly.

Note to self: always braid my hair. He'd put it up as neatly as he could that morning when he'd known the monarchs were on their way, but it was just tied in a low tail. Evidently, that was a mistake. Mo had had a teething ring that morning. Now she had his hair. Where the ring had ended up was anyone's guess. Lovely. Just the thing to impress his new entourage. He couldn't bring himself to take it away from her, though – and it hardly mattered, now. If he took it away, she'd just find another piece, and this one was already slimy.

Looking around the room again, Tobias finally noticed a comparatively diminutive sidhe off to one side of the room. The sidhe quickly noticed Tobias' attention, and met his eyes in return before bowing deeply to him in a way that was very familiar from Tobias' heir book. It was either Archivist Kylpin, or a different sidhe whom Archivist Kylpin had chosen to demonstrate the bows in his book. He suspected Kylpin, though – from the archivist's description of his job, Tobias guessed that few others had access to the books or any part in their creation.

It was a surprisingly sharp pleasure to recognize the older fae in the sea of faces, and Tobias found himself hoping that Archivist Kylpin would be one of his teachers. He'd come to enjoy the letters they'd sent back and forth over the last weeks while the Monarchs had been hunting him. Smiling slightly at the irony, and guessing that Archivist Kylpin was his teacher and as such one of the “technical inferiors” he'd described in the heir book, Harry returned his bow as respectfully as he knew how, earning himself a small smile and a nod.

Though evidently quite short, among male fae, Archivist Kylpin was a striking figure. Tobias had noticed the fae's straight white hair in the images in his book, but the archivist's most prominent feature by far were the markings on his arms. Kylpin must've been wearing long sleeves, in the book, or Tobias was sure he'd've noticed the marks before. In contrast to Tobias', Kylpin's marks were pale, so much so that they seemed to glow silver against the fae's mahogany skin.

They should've looked garish, Tobias realized. If the marks had been wide flowing vines like Tobias', they'd have made him look zebra-striped. Fortunately, Kylpin's bright white markings were an loose, intricate weave of thinner lines and small dots, and while the white-on-black pattern was certainly dramatic, it did not detract from the fae's dignity. If Tobias hadn't known better, he'd've thought the fae nobleman was wearing some sort of brocade, or elaborate jewelry – ornate silver bands that swirled around his joints and stretched all the way down to his wrists.

The human book he'd read about “dark fairies” in Diagon Alley had said that their markings lightened with age, Tobias realized suddenly. If the book was accurate, Archivist Kylpin was the oldest fae in the room. Once he realized that, he also noticed the fae's slightly stooped posture and crow's feet – both features that none of the other sidhe in the room shared. So maybe the book had been accurate, on that point.

But then...Mohira was clearly older than Tobias by quite a bit, and his markings hadn't lightened any that Tobias could see. Sheyanan's were a bit lighter, but that could also be hue – hers were a cranberry so dark it was more like ruby, where Mohira's were black like Tobias'. Maybe Mohira's and his would end up more colorful with age? Tobias' hair looked black, but seen in strong enough sunlight it turned out to actually be blue. For all he knew, his marks were the same. Archivist Kylpin's were very pale, but Tobias could still tell that they had been bluish, or even purple – they were now like silver or brightly-polished pewter, not at all gold.

He had more examples, he realized suddenly, looking at the other sidhe in the room. He hadn't noticed their markings before, but now he did, and those that he could see were all quite dark, and mostly brown or blackish, though one or two showed some color. Most of the skin underneath was darker than Tobias' or Sheyanan's – more like Mohira's. It made their markings much more subtle. Mohira's was so dark that his markings almost disappeared against the background black.

Lliannan-she had been lighter, Tobias remembered – more like Sheyanan's pale skin than Mohira's dark. Mo was cappuccino – closer to Sheyanan's coloring than to Mohira's. It made her look much more like Tobias' biological daughter than she otherwise would've.

Goodness am I white, Tobias realized suddenly. His marks were dramatic, the black almost as stark as zebra-stripes across the white skin of his arms and face. His aunt may not have objected so strongly, if Tobias' skin had been darker underneath the black markings. Oh sure, Tobias realized a moment later. She'd've had no problem with the wings and horns, if the tattoos hadn't contrasted so badly. There's the one.

But now was not a good time to be brooding. Turning his attention outwards again, Tobias returned to surveying the room.

He recognized one of the guards, Tobias realized suddenly. He had met him in this same room that morning – he'd been there when Tobias had first met with the Monarchs. Mohira had called him by a name – like some sort of tree. Pine? Spruce? No – Fir. Fir-nesh, or something. Firrneth?

Anyway, Tobias had been surrounded by guards – as he was now – and Mohira had noticed his discomfort and ordered this guard to leave and take the other guards with him. The guard had protested, and Mohira had insisted, but had not seemed surprised at the protest. Tobias didn't imagine that many of Mohira's men had the same level of privilege.

The same guard had also been the one to spell the Longbottom conference room for security when they were meeting with Dumbledore, Tobias remembered. Tobias had been surprised to see the fae use magic.

But he'd been looking too long. The guard evidently noticed his attention, and gave a deep bow that was somehow not as friendly as the archivist's had been. Not – unfriendly, exactly, but Kylpin had smiled, like he'd been glad to see Tobias, or at least approving of the bow Tobias had chosen to greet him with. The guard was neutral – neutral enough to be unnerving. He reminded Tobias of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the taciturn black man he'd seen occasionally at the Order Headquarters, whose only reaction to finding out that Tobias was Harry Potter had been the one word - “interesting”. Surely the guard must have some opinion of Tobias, by now, but it didn't show on his face.

For a moment, Tobias wasn't really sure how or if to bow back – the bow Firr-whoever-it-was had given him was that of a commoner – but then it seemed likely that this was the captain of Mohira's bodyguards, and therefore someone worthy of respect. The Heir book had said he wasn't supposed to bow to a commoner, usually, but then this 'commoner' had felt comfortable questioning the King. Did the guard count as a 'commoner held in high esteem', a 'technical inferior' like a teacher, or just another commoner and not someone Tobias should bow to at all?

But the man had bowed to him, and Tobias found himself terribly uncomfortable just ignoring it. It was probably better to err on the side of too much respect, than too little, right? Unsure, Tobias gave the guard the bow to a commoner, then looked to Archivist Kylpin. The archivist gave him a slight smile, and a nod. Apparently, he hadn't done too badly.

“Everyone,” Mohira spoke up then, “allow Her Majesty and me to personally present our heir, His Highness Tobias Sheyananre Ardmohira-she James Bâtard. Please take the time to memorize his face, as you are all here because you are responsible for his safety and welfare as well as that of Her Highness Moriyana-she.”

They had all already been staring at him, but now they all bowed, some more deeply than others. Firrnesh/th and Archivist Kylpin both bowed again, and deeper this time. Because it's more formal? Tobias wondered. He could've really done without the whole bowing thing. It made him terribly uncomfortable. What bow did one choose for a group of people? The most respectful? One somewhere in the middle? What if there was a nobleman in the crowd?

Fortunately, Archivist Kylpin managed to catch his eye, and did the beginnings of a bow Tobias

recognized as the one for fae nobility. Unfortunately, he'd never yet tried that one, and now he needed to attempt it with Moriyana in his arms. He mentally crossed his fingers and did his best...and Archivist Kylpin winced.

“Don't worry, Tobias-she,” Sheyanan murmured behind him as he stood up. “Archivist Kylpin was quite right. No-one expects you to know everything yet, and your staff have all been briefed.”

Briefed, yes, but who knew what they thought of it, Tobias realized, feeling a blush creep over his face. Archivist Kylpin was wonderfully expressive and helpful, but Firrne...the tree-name guard's expression was still absolutely unreadable to him, as were most of the others'. And Archivist's Kylpin's wonderfully expressive helpfulness was just now wonderfully helpfully expressing that his bow had been a total disgrace.

“Just say hello,” Sheyanan instructed him softly. “Mohira was formal, because he needs to make it clear that you are fully a member of the royalty, but your staff are here for you, and you may choose how you wish to treat them. Within reason, of course.”

Thank goodness. The whole formal letter-writing thing had been getting really old. Though – it'd've been nice if he knew what 'within reason' looked like, in this context. And he didn't want to sound like a second-year, either.

“Hello, everyone,” Tobias said finally. “I'm...” But he didn't want to actually lie. He was not truthfully at all pleased to meet them, and now he was stuck. Archivist Kylpin, he remembered. “I look forward to meeting you properly,” he managed. And couldn't think of anything more to say, no matter what his increasingly panicked mind tried.

They were staring at him, like they expected some kind of speech, or something. Wonderful. He couldn't even manage to say 'hello' properly.

He wanted to hide behind his wings, like he had in Outcast's Alley that first day, but even the memory of it made him want to cringe. That would probably be the worst reaction he could have. It was embarrassing that he even wanted to. But the best he could do was to school his expression. He couldn't for the life of him come up with anything else to say, and the silence was starting to drag.

Mohira huffed slightly behind him, sounding annoyingly amused, but then finally spoke up. “As you know, Tobias-she is unused to the normal culture and customs among the People and especially at Court. Please help him to adjust as you can and according to your separate roles, and please speak to me or to Firrneth about any problems that may arise.”

Firrneth. With a 'th', Tobias realized. And – speak to Firrneth? Apparently the fae was more than just a guard. Another one of Tobias' keepers, rather, or one of the King's lieutenants. Or both. Any problems that may arise. What would the King do, if his new Heir turned out to be cruel to his servants? Or a drunken sot? What could the man do?

By our laws, you are our heir, and our Second's only parent. Nothing we do or say can change that. However we would prefer no heir at all, to one that cares nothing for his duty to our people. You are correct, that we cannot force you to accept the job that is yours. You could take the rank, and the honor, and the money, without helping us at all, and without allowing us to teach you those things relevant to your duties. You could drive our country into the ground. We can only hope that your own sense of honor will prevent you.

When Mohira had said that, Tobias had been distracted by his own racing thoughts and the game he was playing, trying to keep his negotiating position as strong as he could. He hadn't really thought about the desperation of the Monarchs' position. He had their granddaughter, and he would inherit their kingdom, and they hadn't chosen him any more than he'd chosen them. He could abuse his servants and drain the treasury dry and at least from what Mohira had told him, they could do literally nothing about it.

Come to think of it, why had Mohira told him that? Didn't they want to keep their negotiating power, as well?

Except – they had very little left to offer him, Tobias realized. He'd already inherited anything they could give him. They couldn't even threaten him, because his running away again or, if he didn't escape, being put in jail would be as much a political disaster as anything else he could do. They needed his willing cooperation or they were sunk. As scary as Mohira seemed, Tobias really was in the stronger position, at the moment.

Not that that was actually comforting. It just allowed him to make his own decisions about how much he wanted to cooperate. Which was not a level of decision-making he was at all comfortable with. Anything he did, affected Mo, too, and the less he cooperated with the Monarchs, the less they could help him with her or anything else. If they even wanted to help him, really. Ugh.

Focus, Tobias reminded himself sharply. Panicking would not help. But he felt so young, here. The room was packed with people, many of whom were supposed to be his staff. Who the hell had thought it a good idea to give a fifteen-year-old responsibility for one person, let alone a roomful? But - Please help him to adjust as you can and according to your separate roles, and please speak to me or to Firrneth about any problems that may arise. So, he kind of wasn't responsible for them. Firrneth and the Consort were responsible for them. That was better.

But he'd already used up his time-out, Tobias realized. He couldn't flee a second time without it being blatantly obvious that that was what he was doing. “Steady,” a voice said softly behind him. To Tobias' surprise, it was a man's voice – not Sheyanan, but Mohira. “They were very carefully selected, and we brought them here to help you. You cannot cause a disaster with them.”

“Yeah,” Tobias answered just as quietly. “Just with your ambassador. Because I accidentally snubbed a schoolmate.”

“That was before we got here,” Mohira told him. “And it's easily reparable. As long as you cooperate with us, you cannot fail. We will not allow it.”

The Consort's words were condescending...and very reassuring. That was annoying. He had no desire to like Mohira.

“As Tobias-she has said,” Sheyanan spoke up then, “you will each meet his Highness personally within the next couple of days. For now, I believe you have all been shown your quarters and your duties. If you've been given no other instructions, please return to those.”

Just like that, the room full of people bowed, and melted away, and Tobias was left with his increasingly squirmy daughter, the two monarchs, and a small fraction of the guards. To Tobias' surprise, Firrneth was one of the ones to stay, and he came to the front of the room as the rest left, bowing deeply to Tobias and the two monarchs when he stopped before them.

“You wished to speak to me, your Majesty?” he asked Mohira.

“I wish for you to meet Tobias first,” Mohira answered him, “as you will be the most directly responsible for him.” Firrneth merely nodded, and Mohira turned to Tobias. “Firrneth will be responsible for your schooling and your staff,” he explained, “as well as for your overall welfare. Where you go, he goes, and your staff will answer to him so that you are freed up to concentrate on Moriyana and on your schooling.”

But Tobias pretty much only heard the one phrase. Wherever you go, he goes. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

“Wherever I go?” he asked.

“Everywhere,” Mohira told him. “He has orders to give you as much privacy as possible without ever leaving your side. If you do not allow him time and opportunity to eat and sleep, he will do neither.”

That was worse than he thought. Tobias felt his eyes widen, and he stared between Firrneth and Mohira for a moment. “You're kidding,” he said flatly. “Surely, you're joking.”

Mohira's cool, silent gaze was answer enough, and finally Tobias turned to Firrneth instead. “You agreed to this?” he asked.

“I am honored to serve his Majesty,” Firrneth answered stiffly.

Was that a yes or a no?

Whatever it was, it didn't sound friendly, and it certainly didn't invite any more questions. Tobias finally turned back to Mohira.

“Firrneth does as he is ordered,” Mohira told him before he asked.

Unbelievable. “I did not agree to this,” Tobias told him through gritted teeth.

“You have no training in deportment or diplomacy, you are under threat, and you want to stay at Hogwarts while Sheyanan and I must spend most of our time at Court,” Mohira told him. “This is the solution that allows you the most freedom possible without getting you killed or allowing you to make any mistakes with serious consequences. Firrneth will act as both guard and guide, and hopefully you will manage to eat and sleep. I am told that you have been struggling since you got here.”

That much was true, but – please take care that you allow him time and opportunity to eat and sleep. Mohira called the man 'guard and guide', but that sounded a lot more like slave to Tobias. Except Firrneth had evidently felt comfortable questioning Mohira, before...what the heck?

“Mohira is making everything sound as bad as he possibly can,” Sheyanan said, frowning at her husband. “Firrneth has served us with great loyalty for his entire adult life. He is the most elite of our guard and the most trusted of our servants. If it were not vital, we would not wish to part with him, but he is the only one that we could at once trust with your safety and with overseeing the rest of your staff.”

That was very high praise, but Firrneth did not appear to even hear it. He was completely stiff and silent – to the point that Tobias started wondering if something had pissed him off. Sheyanan never paused. “Without him, you would have to do such coordination yourself, which you do not know how to do, or with the help of a separate chief of security and staff organizer. The latter would be cumbersome, as the chief of security and staff organizer would still have to coordinate their activities.”

Tobias took a breath. Two different people, just to coordinate his other staff? But then, of course – he'd seen how many servants and guards he'd been assigned, and there was no way he could keep track of all of them on their own. And he'd completely failed to convince the Monarchs to simplify matters beyond arranging for simple enough clothing that one servant could handle both his room and his clothing, instead of two.

“Besides that,” Sheyanan continued, “it is far easier for you to interface with one guard than with three or four at a time. Firrneth will be in close enough contact with you to allow your other guards and servants to back off a little and come in close only when needed. Since he will be with you at all times, he will know your needs without you having to state them. His own body will tell him when you are hungry or tired, and he will be on hand to answer any questions you have and provide any guidance you need at the moment that you need it. He has performed the function for other royalty in the past.”

Tobias frowned, unable to come up with an argument against her. Firrneth was still completely blank-faced. I am honored to serve his Majesty. What was the man, a robot? But again, he'd questioned Mohira before – politely, but he had. Why the robotics now?

That wasn't really the issue, though. “So I need Firrneth because I need someone to manage my servants and guards,” Tobias repeated. “Because I will have so many of them that I will not be able to organize them all on my own. Or, alternatively, I could just be an ordinary student at a normal, perfectly safe school as I've been doing quite happily since I left Harlot's Inn. No servants, no guards, just me and Moriyana and the normal protections provided for any Hogwarts student.”

But Sheyanan just turned to meet his eyes, her gaze very serious. “You will have guards, Tobias-she,” she told him. “I sincerely hope that you're right, and you never need them, but you will have them.”

Her tone held no anger, only the absolute confidence that her will would prevail. For a moment, Tobias was surprised, but then he mentally shook his head. This was the queen. Somehow he'd forgotten, for a moment.

But he really didn't appreciate her dictates, queen or not, and it had already been a very long day. Whatever consequences might result just suddenly didn't seem to matter. Tobias met the queen's eyes and displayed teeth back, finally releasing the snarl that he'd been fighting since he first saw the room full of massive bodyguards.

Sheyanan merely looked surprised – and not at all intimidated – but a much deeper growl seemed to take over the whole room, and Tobias felt himself instinctually freeze, not even looking to see where the sound had come from. Tobias' growl was deep and loud enough that it occasionally surprised him to hear it come out of his own chest – and it had certainly impressed Umbridge - but Mohira's was so low it vibrated Tobias' ribcage. His own growls suddenly sounded like a cub snarling at the head of his pride – not smart.

The sound demanded instant, cowed compliance, but Tobias didn't care. Forcing himself to move, he transferred his snarl from Sheyanan to Mohira, and let it grow, daring the Consort to do whatever he was going to.

There was a soft snort from the direction of his new guard, but Tobias didn't turn his head to see, far too focussed on Mohira. But Mohira had evidently heard the soft sound as well, because his snarl stopped abruptly, and was replaced by an incredulous smile. “Do you actually intend to fight me, Tobias-she?” he asked. For once, he actually didn't sound mocking – just genuinely amused. Like Tobias was a kitten with his hair all spiked – cute as hell, and not at all intimidating.

“Your Heir, your Majesty,” Firrneth commented. It sounded like he was introducing them.

“Do be quiet, Firrneth,” Mohira instructed him coolly.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Firrneth answered. But his subdued tone did nothing to hide his good humor. What, exactly, was so funny? Tobias' snarls had died off in confusion, by this point. The reaction was so far from what he'd expected that the snarls felt as ridiculous as Mohira evidently took them to be. But the monarchs didn't rub it in – and at Tobias' best guess, it was Mohira who was the butt of the joke.

“He's right, though,” Sheyanan told Mohira. “Do you remember-?”

“Yes, yes,” Mohira cut her off. “Thank you, yes.”

By now, Tobias had lost all track of the conversation, but Sheyanan spoke up next, her tone rich with amusement.

“Oh, but Mohira-she,” she said, “it is terribly rude to refer to such a story without explaining it to Tobias.”

“Yes,” Mohira told her shortly, his own tone nonetheless betraying a certain humor. “Clearly you should not have brought it up. Allow me to apologize for my wife, Tobias-she. We will change the subject immediately.”

Huh? Tobias just looked at him, still dazed by the abrupt change in tone. What...wasn't the Consort angry? He'd been working himself up for a fight – one he'd almost certainly have lost – and then...huh?

“No, no we won't,” Sheyanan returned, her smile broadening, “We'll just have to explain. We are amused, Tobias-she, because you remind us all of a much younger Mohira. Firrneth was his guard and companion in those days, while Mohira was at the palace courting me. One night my Father caught Mohira and I out in the garden in the middle of the night, Mohira having somehow managed to give his guards the slip and come see me without a chaperone. Father was furious, and Mohira was roughly your age and had a temper much like yours. Mohira decided that he was going to defend me, and my Father was having none of it. Poor Firrneth by now had caught up, but he was much less experienced, then, and hadn't a clue what to do. My Father had been the one to assign him, but he'd assigned him to protect Mohira and Mohira was about to get his arse kicked. Worse, he was already in hot water because Mohira shouldn't have been able to lose him.”

Here she paused, but Tobias was caught up in the story despite himself. “What happened?” he pressed.

“Like Sheyanan said,” Mohira answered frankly. “I got my arse kicked. And Firrneth had one hell of a tongue-lashing that I got to listen in on because I'd deliberately made his job harder. Sheyanan had a job convincing Talmur – that's her father, you'll meet him later – not to dismiss him outright and send me home. I didn't get to see Sheyanan again for months. And I didn't cross King Talmur again until I was much older.”

And there was the moral of the story, Tobias figured. Nice of them to be subtle about it. Not.

But apparently Mohira wasn't trying to be subtle. “You are fifteen years old, Tobias-she,” he told Tobias bluntly. “That is very young for the fae. Argue with us if you are going to, but do not threaten my wife or challenge me to a fight that you know very well you cannot win.”

“What would you do?” Tobias asked him, curious.

“That would depend,” Mohira told him. “This time, you backed down on your own. If you didn't?”

Tobias nodded hesitantly, and Mohira smiled, bearing teeth. “Well, then you'd get your arse kicked,” he said.

Tobias bared teeth in response, but it was a similar expression to Mohira's – more good humor in it than any actual aggression. He was among friends, here, somehow. It reminded him of living on Outcast's Alley, in Harlot's Inn. He'd snarled at Bighana, she'd snarled back, and there'd been no question of who would've won. That time had been a joke, whereas this time he'd meant it, but – he'd snarled at Mohira, and Mohira had very kindly not beaten the snot out of him. He should've been angry, but – this was the People world. It was nice to feel at home, again.

“Do you have any further questions, Tobias-she?” Mohira asked him. Despite his earlier good humor, there was something intimidating about his gaze – something that demanded acknowledgment.

Unfortunately, Tobias really didn't have a choice but to push him further and hope he survived it – from squirming and talkative, Moriyana was now getting increasingly fussy, and while Tobias hoped the Monarchs couldn't tell, she needed a diaper change ASAP.

“Yes,” Tobias answered the king. “May I go? I need to take care of Moriyana.” And if they suggested he hand her off to someone else...

But - “Have you eaten, Tobias-she?” Sheyanan asked him softly.

Oh, for - “No,” Tobias answered her shortly. Of course he hadn't. When, exactly, did she think he would have? And how, exactly, did she think he was going to get a chance now? If he kept Moriyana up any further, she was going to be screaming instead of fussing.

“I'll see to it, your Majesty,” Firrneth said quietly.

Which at that moment, somehow, was even more annoying.

“Thank you, Firrneth,” Mohira answered. “Go ahead, Tobias-she. We'll try to leave you alone for a couple of hours.”

“Thank you,” Tobias said stiffly. Giving a shallow rendition of his bow to superiors – only the second time he'd tried it – Tobias turned to leave. One of the guards opened the door ahead of him and two of them proceeded him through it. Sighing, Tobias followed them, hearing Firnneth and two other guards follow.