"Now then, fer yeh homework I want yeh to write about, oh, say sixteen inches on an 'edge' creature of yeh choice." Hagrid muttered, looking at his enormous hands.

Hermione and Harry's eyes met in consternation; the newly appointed professor's confidence had been seriously knocked by the Buckbeak fiasco. Ron fixed a blue laser stare on the culprit, a blond, elfin boy, who was smirking insufferably at Hagrid's discomfort.

Feigning not to notice, Draco sneered "Edge creatures are not exactly Magical, uh 'Professor.'"

Harry opened his mouth but, as usual, Hermione beat him to the punch. "Edge animals are vitally important to all branches of magic, Malfoy, from potions to transfiguration."

"Don't you dare lecture me, Mu…"

"And that is why edge animals are on the Care of Magical Creatures syllabus" Hermione interrupted, her chocolate brown eyes flashing "As you should know, what with your Dad being on the board of governors. Oh, but he's not, anymore, is he?"

Draco's silver eyes narrowed but, before he could say anything, Hagrid barked "Tha's enough. Class dismiss. C'mere, Harry, Ron an' Hermione."

Although he was fuming, Harry grabbed the sable sleeves of his two, best friends' robes and began to drag them towards Hagrid's hut. The tousle-haired teen could tell by Hermione's firm tread that lingering behind would not be a good idea. The way that Ron was cracking his knuckles and staring at Draco like a blood-crazed terrier was also kind of a clue.

"Father has the Minister's ear" Draco hissed "That great squib and his brute of a hippogriff will be out by Yule."

Harry stopped, breathing heavily as he debated hexing Draco into jelly. However, at that point Hagrid turned. "Come on, you three, I need yeh help with some bowtruckles."

With a grim smile at his own forbearance, Harry marched forward, consoling himself with the thought that, above all else, bullies hated being ignored.

oOoOo

"So" Hagrid said, taking a gulp from his bucket-sized cup of tea "Wha' animals are yeh writing abou'?"

"Cats" Hermione smiled "I did a bit of reading when I got Crookshanks and this would be a great opportunity to broaden my knowledge."

Ron looked up from tentatively testing a dunked rock cake with his teeth. "I dunno, owls I suppose."

"A bit too obvious, Ron" Hermione teased.

"Wolves, then" Ron grumbled. "Fred told me they were pretty interesting."

"Very few books on wolves, Ron. Tha's specialised magic tha' is." Hagrid said quickly, flushing scarlet behind his tangle of beard, hair and eyebrows.

"Yes" Hermione added, a blush also suffusing her cheeks "How about dogs. There's a whole section in the library about them."

"An' how about you, Harry?" Hagrid asked kindly, his beetle-black eyes interested.

Harry paused "Um, are swans edge creatures?"

"Swan? Yeah, definitely. Ver' famous."

Ron guffawed. "Swans?" he chortled, looking at Harry with amused blue eyes "That's even girlier than cats!"

"Yeah, well, I like them. And they're not girly." Harry retorted, glaring through his crooked spectacles. "They're really beautiful and powerful and one of them once broke Dud's nose for me."

Hermione, who'd been winding herself into lecture mode, collapsed back limply in her chair. "What?"

Ron beamed "What happened, mate?"

"Well, it was ages ago" Harry said, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. "I was only seven…"

Flashback

Harry sat, cross-legged, tugging strands of blue from the thread-bare elbows of his school jumper. It wasn't as if the billowing garment couldn't lose a few inches: the woollen hung in heavy folds from Harry's sparse frame.

Under his legs, the concrete was hard and cold and, as he listened to the happy babble of conversation coming from the playing fields, Harry's heart felt hard and cold as well. It wasn't his fault that he was small and thin from too many chores and too little food. It wasn't his fault that he wore cheap NHS glasses, the plastic frames, cracked by his cousin's punches, held together with sticky-tape. The ragged, overlarge hand-me-downs weren't his fault either, nor was the strange, lightening shaped scar on his forehead.

However, the other kids didn't care whose fault it was. Or, rather, they took Harry's unkempt appearance as a sign that he deserved no better; most decided 'Potter' was a freak on sight. Even the gypsy children, who were initially friendly to Harry, had decided to keep their distance. Dudley and his gang had started to pick on them as soon as they befriended the lonely orphan.

No, Harry knew that it wasn't his fault that he was alone; just whose fault it was wasn't exactly clear. His parents probably didn't want to die in a car crash and his Aunt and Uncle certainly hadn't wanted to take him in; they made it clear at every opportunity just how unwelcome he was in their home. That's why he was here; once Harry's chores were finished, he could either go to his cupboard or outside. Provided Aunt Petunia didn't have to see him, she didn't care.

A dark shadow fell, blotting out the feeble, October sunshine. Harry's gaze snapped up, fear flickering in his green eyes. However, it was only a low-flying bird, its dark shadow already disappearing into the distance.

A lucky bird Harry thought as he spotted Dudley and his gang walking towards the playground. Thankfully, he'd spotted them before they spotted him. Given the choice between terrorising the other kids off the swings and Harry-hunting, Dud would always choose the latter.

Cracking the stiffness out of his legs and back, Harry stood and, under the cover of trees, edged around the car-park, into the little spinny which, during summer, was a magnet for picnickers. Even in autumn, it was a lovely spot, with winding pathways carpeted with crisp, russet leaves, tall, flourishing trees and a large, silvery lake, complete with a flock of ducks, Canada geese and large, shimmering swans.

Harry used to love watching the birds chatter and play, sometimes even sneaking a bit of stale bread out of the house to feed them. Then Dudley and his gang had found him there and, after roughing him up, decided to add insult to injury. That accusation of 'stealing' had earned him six smacks with a ruler, no supper and a week in his cupboard. Harry avoided the lake after that.

However, the woods around the park were relatively large and Harry could almost imagine the tall, slender trees were entwining their branches in a protective circle, hiding him from Dudley's view. One particularly homely tree was a large yew, which overlooked a small pond. Within those towering, grey green spires was a comfortable 'seat', formed of two warm, smooth branches and, better still, this core was completely concealed by the surrounding branches, each of which spouting a myriad of twigs coated in thin, flat leaves. It was a perfect hiding place for a small boy and, although Harry was not dumb enough to eat the pinkish-red berries, he could enjoy watching the birds that came to feast upon them.

Nevertheless, it was still pretty lonely, especially when Harry had a whole afternoon to waste.

With a sigh, Harry slouched along the path, kicking at the leaves with his scuffed school shoes. Aunt Petunia had bought them from Oxfam for 50p and, although they fitted, Harry soon discovered that no amount of spit and elbow grease could hide the scratches. Even rubbing them over with the polishing cloth after he'd done Uncle Vernon's shoes hadn't helped.

"One more step along the road I go, more and more about the world I know" Harry huffed under his breath. Singing was a poor substitute for the cheerful rumpus of the playing fields, let alone the company of real friends, but it was better than silence. "All the new things that I see, you'll be looking at along with me."

Nothing new here. Harry despaired of anything changing; it was about as likely as having someone to share it with.

The fiery fallen leaves slowly petered out, revealing dull, grey-brown earth, dotted with patches of emerald moss and straggly grass. The shadows criss-crossing the woodland path had also changed, becoming sharper, more angular than the rounded shades of deciduous trees. Harry looked up and his jaw dropped.

The silvery water of the pond, usually empty save for his yew's tulip-shaped reflection, rippled in the wake of the most beautiful creature Harry had ever seen. A smart, hooked tail smoothed into a long sleek body which tapered, curving into an elegant neck upon which the small, round head sat proudly, with shining, button black eyes looking down their long, flat beak at the world. A swan but not just any swan.

Breath silent in his lungs, the child crept around the pool, his green gaze riveted on the lovely bird, silently willing him to stay. Harry might not be an expert on birds, let alone able to differentiate the swans on sight, but there was no doubt that this one was a visitor. All the swans on the lake were white and, while Harry had previously admired their grace and beauty, compared to the glossy, blue-black plumage and coral beak of this stranger, they seemed very ordinary indeed.

End of flashback

"You never! There's no such thing!" Ron gaped, his freckles stretching as his jaw hung open in disbelief.

"No, he really was!" Harry exclaimed "Black with a reddish orange beak"

"Honestly Ron!" Hermione huffed, batting away a heavy lock of bushy brown hair off her shoulder to glare at him. "There are lots of different types of swan. There's the mute swan, which is the type you see most often in England, there's the Whooper swan, which is smaller, and there's the Australian swan, which is black."

"An' there's also the Russian Rose." Hagrid added. "It's pink, yeh see. Magical breed."

Hermione's chocolate brown eyes widened. Harry smiled, he could almost hear her thoughts; library, library, library…

"Okay, right, so you saw this black swan."

Flashback

Beady black eyes watched the ragamuffin child climb into the tree, peering suspiciously as he sat down upon the broad branches. The swan ruffled his feathers indignantly, running his ruby beak across the sweeping curve of his right wing.

'I'm watching you, boy!' he seemed to be saying. Harry tried to look harmless.

Ten minutes passed, the swan tilted his head, the obsidian stare intensifying. Harry gripped the flakey, brown boughs, barely breathing.

With a huff the swan looked away. Harry's smile widened into a grin as the swan dipped his head underwater, sending a wave swooshing down the dark feathers of his back. In the weak sunlight, the oily plumage glistened.

Harry spent the rest of his afternoon watching the swan. The child was sure that he'd never see the bird again. Something that strange and beautiful couldn't be expected to stay here in dull, dismal Little Whining, could it?

With a heavy heart, Harry crept away under the darkening sky, his green eyes lingering on the sinuous, dark form until the swan and his pond were nearly out of sight.

"He won't be there tomorrow." Harry told himself later that night, as he sat under the cobweb laced stairs, picking at his bread and cheese. The swan would be gone and Harry would never see it again. End of.

And the only reason, Harry decided, as he peeled off his slice of cheddar, that he was going to wrap the bread up and put it in his book bag was that he might like an after-school snack.

oOoOo

"There won't be a swan, he'll have flown away. Joined his mate or his mum and dad or flock. Whatever, he won't be in the pool, I'm just staying out of Dud's way. That's the only reason I'm going. Then I'm going to sit in the tree and eat my bread." Harry muttered as he walked up the winding, woodland path, his green eyes firmly fixed on his shoes. It was only when the path petered away that the child dared to raise his eyes.

"You're here!"

The swan raised his glossy, blue-black head, blinking at the delighted child with bemused dark eyes.

"Um, I've got you some bread" Harry muttered, delving in his book-bag. The small, broken-nailed hand emerged with a greasy package of newspaper. He threw a large crumb onto the water.

"There you go."

Button eyes blinked again, the proud, elegant neck arched backwards. The swan's coral bill was slightly hooked at the end; it was a good beak to look down upon things. Like a child's humble offering.

Harry swallowed, teeth catching against his lip. Rejection shouldn't hurt by now. The poor, dumb swan wasn't to know that the soggy mess of bread was all Harry had to give. It wasn't his fault, he'd probably filled up earlier on fish or weed or slugs or whatever it was swans eat. He couldn't have know Harry was bringing his tea…

The black swan snorted then, ever-so-slowly, glided across the water and sniffed at the bread. Cautiously, beady eyes never leaving Harry's face, that ruby beak snapped up the crumb.

Harry smiled "You want some more, I've got a bit. It's not much but if you like it…"

The swan eyed the child then, with a sigh, ruffled his wings.

"Alright!"

End of Flashback

"Aww, tha's real sweet Harry." Hagrid said, a smile twitching his tangled brown beard. "Pets are a great comfort." He slapped his boarhound's flank and Fang grinned up with shining brown eyes.

Hermione frowned, her chestnut brows knotting "Wild animals aren't pets, Hagrid."

Ron and Harry exchanged grins; for the gamekeeper, the wilder the animal was, the better.

"Well, there's only one way such a story can be" Hagrid said, slightly sheepish.

Harry nodded "Yeah, I know I probably shouldn't but, well, the next day, he was still there and, when I walked over to the pond he sorta… um… floated over and I kinda dropped a bit of bread at my feet. I didn't mean to" Harry muttered, looking away from Hagrid's all too knowing smile; "it just happened."

Flashback

The weather had turned chilly, a harsh northerly wind sweeping through, bringing with it the sharp tang of winter. As Harry unwrapped the dry bread with shaking, gloveless hands it broke. A large square tumbled onto the ground.

"Ooops!"

The swan tilted his round head then, ruffling his feathers, streamed to the edge of the pool. Barely daring to breath, Harry watched as one silver foot slapped onto the withered grass, followed by the other. Beady eyes, glinting like black diamonds, fixed Harry with a hard stare. Harry tried to emulate a statue.

With a twitch of his inky tail, the swan waddled forwards, his long strides, poise and dignified mien adding an almost comic haughtier to the oscillating walk. Eyes fixed on the child's thin, slightly grubby face, the swan bent his elegant neck, clasping the crumb in his ruby bill. Another twitch of his curled tail, and the swan strode back to the pond, dunking his bread in the water before swallowing it with a flip of his bright beak.

Heart thudding in his chest, Harry edged towards the pool. When the swan did not respond, save for another hard look, he knelt down.

"Here you go." Reaching out, Harry set a piece of bread floating on the water. The swan raised his neck, looking down his beak at the child. He glided closer, nipping the bread out of the water.

The next crumb of bread fell a little closer to Harry. Obsidian eyes glittering, the black swan allowed himself to be drawn to the water's edge.

Harry swallowed, then dipped the last crumb into the water and held his hand out to the dark bird. Button eyes glared, as if contemplating whether Harry should be taught a lesson or indulged. The swan's eyes glittered then, ever so delicately, he extended his long, arched neck and nipped the corner of the bread.

Harry breathed out, tears glittering in his round, green eyes. "Thanks, Mr. Swan."

Another circumspect glare.

"Um, I'm Harry. Harry Potter. I like swans"

Obsidian eyes glimmered. Any creature with a beak shouldn't be able to smirk but, nevertheless, the tiny, sable feathers at the corner of his beak twitched.

"I hope you stay here." The child said softly.

After observing the child's pale, hopeful face, the swan ruffled his wings, sending out a low, sweet trill which trembled in Harry's heart.

Logically, Harry knew the swan couldn't understand him; he was just responding to tone or something. However, being able to just talk to someone who didn't actually dislike him was comforting somehow. A bit like having a brother or even a really good friend might feel.

Harry sighed happily "If you're staying here, perhaps you ought to have a name. I can't call you 'swan' all the time."

Raising his slender neck, the swan looked at Harry with haughty eyes.

"Um, so, how about 'Sooty'?"

"Hiisss!"

"Er okay, not 'Sooty'. Um, er, um… 'Black Beauty'?"

"Sss!"

Harry swallowed. "Okaaay. I'll take that as a no. Hmm" he bit his lip "How about Shadow?"

Tilting his head, the swan rolled back his inky shoulders. It wasn't a yes, more of an 'I can live with that."

"Okay, Shadow. Well, um, I've got to get home now. Er, I'll see you tomorrow, that is, if you're still around."

End of Flashback

"That… doesn't sound like normal swan behaviour, Harry." Hermione said, looking perplexed. "I mean, swans aren't the friendliest of creatures, even black swans, which tend to be more tame."

"Yeah, well Shadow was dead special." Harry said proudly "He seemed to understand everything I said."

Flashback

"Hi Shadow" Harry grinned, laying out his plastic mackintosh beside the pond. "I've got a treat for you today. We made Victoria Sponge in Home Economics!"

Sitting cross-legged on the coat (Aunt Petunia had smacked his legs for the mud on his trousers), Harry pulled out the small, slightly squashed cake.

"Dud pushed me over so it's a bit broken but still good" Harry explained, smiling up at Shadow's enquiring black eyes. "And we've got it all to ourselves. My Aunt never wants to eat stuff I make at school, I think she thinks I'll slip something in or something." Harry gave a brittle laugh and broke off a piece, moistening it in water before offering it to his swan.

"You like that, huh?"

Shadow bobbed his head, paddling closer to the pond's edge.

Together, boy and swan devoured the cake in companionable silence. Harry's calloused hands were sticky with jam so, carefully he reached forward, dipping his fingers in the cool water of the pool. The edge of his hand grazed inky feathers.

Green eyes met obsidian. Harry swallowed; Shadow hadn't shied at the touch… maybe.

Slowly, oh so slowly he reached out, letting his hand ghost along the smooth, oily feathers of Shadow's wing. Button black eyes blinked.

More confident now, Harry stroked the sable wing, marvelling at the softness.

"Thanks, Shadow."

oOoOo

Bundled up in three jumpers, Harry sat shivering on his coat, stroking Shadows' sable feathers with trembling fingers. Under the cold, grey, December sky, amid the sliver-barked trees, Shadow's coral beak was the only flash of brightness.

"And then Dudley threw his hotdog and it splattered all over my Aunt's new kitchen. She was livid. Not with him though; Dud said I'd added the wrong mustard. He wanted American but I'd got out the English or something." Harry sighed "I always get the blame when he throws a wobbly. It's dead unfair."

Shadow trilled sympathetically.

"Yeah, so, after I cleaned up- which took ages, Aunt Petunia sent me to bed with no supper." Harry sighed, stroking the swan's smooth, round head. "That's why we've got no bread today. I hope you managed to find some worms or something."

Shadow snorted but leant into Harry's touch. Harry's mouth twisted into a smile, despite the tears clouding his green eyes "At least you don't blame me. Somehow, whenever anything goes wrong, I always get the blame; it's like they think I can magically cause random things to happen. It's not fair.

Button black eyes lingered on the child's pale, pinched face.

"At least you understand" Harry muttered, dashing away tears with his threadbare sleeve.

oOoOo

Although sky and trees were still grey, the dull ground was bejewelled, boasting clumps of jade spikes upon which pearlescent snowdrop flowers bobbed, ringing soundlessly in the gentle breeze.

"It's almost spring, now." Harry said sadly, stroking Shadow's back with gentle fingers. "I expect you'll be off soon, to find a girl swan. Miss Hardy said that on Valentines day, every bird find's it's mate."

Shadow sneezed, ruffling his feathers. Harry grinned.

"You don't like girls, huh? Maybe you're still too young to find a proper mate."

Beady black eyes glittered coolly. Harry smiled and offered Shadow another piece of bread.

"So, I guess you'll be staying here, then." Harry sighed, dipping another crumb into the water. "I wish I was a swan. It must be nice, being free and not having to live with people who hate you."

Shadow trilled softly.

"Yeah, they do, Shadow. If I could, I'd run away and live out here with you. Being a swan must be so cool; no chores, lots of food, no one pushing you around. I bet if another swan hurt you, you could bite them back or fly away. And no one tries to lock you in a cupboard..."

Harry stared miserably into the woods, bottom lip jutting out as he struggled not to cry. Swallowing, he turned to meet his swan's concerned gaze.

"Fancy another bit of bread?"

oOoOo

"I learnt a new song in assembly today, Shadow, it's about swans. You mightn't like it though, 'cos it's called the 'Ugly Duckling'.

The black swan snorted, mashing his bread up against the ground. Recently, Shadow had decided that, on dry days like these, the warm earth was preferable to his icy pond.

"Yeah, I know you're beautiful." Harry reassured him, stroking Shadow's inky back. "So is the Duckling, actually. Though he's really a cygnet. The song is all about how the other birds are mean to the Ugly Duckling because he's not like the rest and no one wants to be friends with him."

Harry laughed sharply "Dud's been singing it at me, the first two verses at least. Then again Dud's not exactly bright, is he? 'Cos the duckling turns out to be the most beautiful swan of all."

Shadow tilted his head, button eyes gleaming approvingly.

"Want to hear it? There once was an ugly duckling, with feathers all stubby and brown and all the birds in so many words said 'Quack get out of town! Quack, get out, Quack, Quack get out, Quack, Quack get out of town!' So he went with a quack and a waddle and a quack and a very unhappy tear and all the birds in so many words said 'Quack get out of here! Quack, get out, Quack, Quack get out, Quack, Quack get out of here!'"

Shadow trilled.

"All through the winter time, he hid himself away, ashamed to show his face, afraid of what others might say, all through the winter time, in his lonely clump of weed" Harry sang mournfully "Until a flock of swans spied him there and very soon agreed… You're a very fine swan indeed!"

Harry ran a calloused hand down Shadow's back "'Me, a Swan? Go on!' 'Take a look at yourself in the river and see!' And he looked and he smiled and he said 'That's Me! I am a Swan! Yippee! I'm not such an ugly duckling, with feathers all stubby and brown, oh all the birds in so many words say 'Quack the best in town! Quack, the best, Quack, Quack the best, Quack, Quack the best in town!'"

Harry breathed deeply, trying to catch his breath "It's a great song, isn't it? Though I think they'd have to change it for you because you're the best in town, not some boring old white swan."

Shadow whistled in agreement.

Harry stroked his swan's smooth, sable wings "I wonder if that's why you don't live with the other swans. It's not nice being different when other people are mean like that. Someone should throw ink all on the white swans if they don't like you just because you're black…"

Shadow leant close to Harry, pressing his wing against the child's bony knee. Suddenly, Harry threw his arms around the swan's body, burying his face into the soft base of the bird's neck. Hot tears seeped into Shadow's jetty feathers.

After a stunned moment, Shadow bent his neck and combed his scarlet bill through the child's messy dark hair.

End of Flashback

"Come on, Harry! Tell us how Shadow broke your cousin's nose!" Ron urged.

"Ronald!"

"You can't say he didn't deserve it Hermione!" Ron grumbled, the tips of his ears flushing as red as his hair.

"Tha' Dudley Dursley does know how to upset a body." Hagrid agreed, nodding sternly.

"Yes, well. That's not the point." Hermione said stiffly. "While self-defence is sometimes necessary, violence solves nothing. It just makes things worse."

"Yeah, well, it was Dud who threw the first punch…"

Flashback

"I wrote a poem for you in class today." Harry said, pulling a square of card from his book-bag. "Miss said it was really good. It's got a picture of you too. I did it by making a pond out of silver foil then cutting a swan shaped bit of black paper and using a bit of red card for the beak."

Shadow peered at the black, paper-cut-out swan, its feathers defined in black pen by a child's uncertain hand.

"It says 'Shadow; my Swan. Black on silver, like the moon against the sky, beak as red as roses, coaly black eye. Silent as a shadow, 'cept when he wants his tea. I love my Shadow and my Shadow loves me.'"

"Then he's the only one, freak-boy!"

Harry span "What are you doing here, Dudley."

"I can go where I like, Freak!" Dudley sneered, folding his arms and sinking his chin into his chest, causing the ruddy skin to ripple like a frame around his face.

"What you doing with that swan" Cold blue eyes narrowed suspiciously "There better not be any of our bread in there."

"No!" Harry retorted, swinging his book bag behind his back and glaring at his cousin with defiant green eyes.

"Give it here!"

"No!" A fierce shove from Dudley's plump arm sent Harry flying, face first, onto the stony ground.

"Fhiiiiiiiisssssssss!" Rearing on his silver legs, neck outstretched, Shadow flapped his vast, inky wings.

"Get out of it!" Dudley aimed a kick but, before Harry could do more than scramble onto his knees, the black swan lashed out, smashing a heavy wing across Dudley's fat face.

"Ahhh!"

"FFFisssssssssssss!" Shadow advanced like an avenging ghost, his coral beak snapping sharply. Blood streaming from his nose, Dudley turned tail and ran.

"Ssss!" the black swan stamped back to Harry, silver feet slapping indignantly on the earth. Harry smiled as Shadow dropped a strip of grey cloth.

"Nice one Shadow, good swan" Harry muttered, before passing out.

End of Flashback

"Wow! Cool!" Ron enthused, a huge grin spreading across his freckled face.

"Yeh should bring 'im up here!" Hagrid chuckled, slapping his huge thighs. "Swan like that'd be righ' at home."

Hermione, however, was looking at Harry sympathetically. "What happened to Shadow, Harry?"

The teenager sighed, running a hand through his messy, dark hair "Well, I suppose I was lucky in a way. A jogger was passing the pond and saw the whole thing. He picked me up and carried me to the little café, just outside the park." Harry grinned "I woke up to a dreadful row; the surgeon was shouting at Aunt Petunia, telling her that an independent witness had seen Dudley attacking me and she should be grateful he wasn't reporting her to social services."

"The surgeon?" Hermione cried, her brown eyes round with alarm.

"Yeah, the café owner called an ambulance 'cos I was still unconscious." Harry answered "apparently it was a miracle I just had minor skin abrasions, falling the way I did."

"That git!" Ron ground out; his ears practically glowed scarlet.

"And what about Shadow?" Hermione asked, knotting her fingers in her thick, brown hair.

Harry's eyes dimmed "Well, the next morning, the nurse said I had a visitor- they kept me in overnight you see, just in case. It was The Keeper of the Queens Swans!"

"Whoa!"

"Yeah," Harry smiled "Apparently he was in the area and heard about what happened; Petunia tried to report the swan to the police, you see, but the jogger got there first. Anyhow, Mr. Nimrod told me I was very brave and thanked me for looking after Shadow." The teenager swallowed, clasping his hands together "He said that they'd been looking for Shadow for some time; he came from a nature reserve, you see but he'd gotten lost."

"I'm real sorry, Harry" Hagrid said, covering Harry's hands with his own, rather larger one.

"Yeah, well, it was for the best. Shadow belonged with his own kind." Harry sighed. "He gave me one of Shadow's feathers, though, made into a pen."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Hermione looked at her watch "Good grief, dinner is almost over!"

Ron shot out of his seat "C'mon, we might just make pudding."

Laughing, Hagrid waved the three children off into the twilight.

oOoOo

"Harry" Hermione said, later that evening "What was the 'Keeper of the Queens Swans' named again."

"Er, Mr. Nimrod." Harry replied, his mouth twisting into a quizzical smile "Why?"

Hermione bit her lip "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, he wrote in a book he gave me." Harry replied "Wait, I'll get it".

As Harry scrambled up the stairs to his dormitory, Ron turned to Hermione "What's all that about?"

"Well, earlier this year, there was an article in the Telegraph." Hermione said slowly "It's about how the Keeper of the Swan is going to be split into two new roles."

"Yeah, and?"

"The last man to hold the office of 'Keeper of the Swan' was Captain John Turk: he's had it since the sixties."

Harry rushed into the common room, a beautiful, leather bound book in his hands "Here, see" he said, flipping the cover open.

"To Harry James Potter,
With many thanks for your kind care of 'Shadow'.
Amroth Nimrod of the Swan."

Hermione bit her lip "What did Mr. Nimrod look like, Harry?"

"Oh, tall, slim, longish blond hair."

"Like Malfoy's dad?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"Nah, nothing like!" Harry exclaimed "He had a hooked nose for one and his eyes were well dark." He chuckled "I thought he looked a bit like a swan, to be honest!"

There was a long, thoughtful pause.

"Harry, the last Keeper of the Swan was John Turk."

"Huh?"

"I saw an article about him earlier this year." Hermione explained "I thought there was something fishy about that bit of the story, so I've been mulling it over."

Harry frowned "What was 'fishy'?"

"Well, firstly, black swans don't belong to the Queen, so they aren't under the Keeper's protection" Hermione replied, counting the points off on her tapered fingers. "Secondly, I just knew the name Nimrod didn't fit and, thirdly... Well, that doesn't matter."

"Did this guy, um, seem like a wizard?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Well," Harry replied "He had long hair but he dressed normally. Y'know, a suit and everything."

"Did he say anything suspicious?" Hermione asked, brown eyes narrowed.

"No, he just thanked me, gave me the pen and read to me." Harry said, his tone exasperated. "Honestly, Hermione! Maybe he was just the Keeper for black swans or something!"

"It is a beautiful book" Hermione replied, slightly mollified. "May I?"

"Sure" Harry smiled. "It's a great story about an Irish princess, Ibormeith, who turns into a swan every Halloween and doesn't turn back for a whole year. One day, a prince wants to marry her but, first, he's got to pick her out from one hundred and fifty other swans." The teenager flipped through the book, "This is my favourite part though"

The volume opened to reveal a beautiful, full-page picture of the swan palace. On two thrones, the king, white robed, with a silver crown resting on his blond hair, sat beside his red-robed Queen, whose auburn hair was plaited and coiled beneath her rose-gold coronet. Before them stretched a table filled with pretty blond and red-haired girls and, at the very front, stood the prince and princess, who held hands.

"The princess always reminds me of my mum" Harry said fondly "with her red hair loose like that."

"The prince looks like Snape, though" Ron muttered.

"He does not!" Harry retorted, green eyes flashing. "He's supposed to be a black swan so he would have dark eyes and hair. Anyway, this is the best part."

Holding the book carefully, Harry flipped the pages; before Ron and Hermione's amazed eyes, the image changed, the humans morphing into white, pink and black swans.

"Cool!"

"That must have taken ages." Hermione sighed "It's really beautiful, though, Harry. This Mr. Nimrod must have really been grateful over 'Shadow'."

"If Shadow was a swan" Ron said, flipping through the pictures with an awed expression. "They know about Animagi, after all."

"Don't be so silly, Ron" Hermione admonished "There are loads of shape-shifting tales in muggle literature. This Mr. Nimrod was probably just a nice man from the RSPCA."

"The what?"

"Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals" Harry explained.

"Yeah, well, if one day you find out you've got a 'fairy godfather' or something, don't say I didn't tell you" Ron replied cheekily.

"Huh, I doubt it." Harry said, stroking the book's cover absentmindedly "If I had, he wouldn't have let me stay at the Dursleys, would he?"

7th May, 1998

The soot-blackened church was tiny but, as the group of mourners consisted mainly of the Hogwarts' staff, many of the pews stood empty. Sitting beside Hermione, Harry allowed the words of the muggle vicar to wash over him.

The coffin looked strangely small, almost pathetically so. It was hard to believe that it contained the mortal remains of Severus Snape, a man whose presence was so pervasive that it practically filled the dungeons. It was strange to think that those billowing, silken robes would no longer sweep along the floors of Hogwarts, that the deep, smooth baritone would no longer sound in its stone corridors, taking points, assigning detentions, asserting Snape's authority as Head Snake.

It was hard to look at that narrow coffin. Hard to see that powerful warlock so diminished by death.

But Harry just couldn't look away.

Following the coffin out into the stale, smoggy graveyard was hard too. No-one amongst the staff felt that they exactly deserved to be pallbearers, not after the way they'd betrayed Snape and Dumbledore's trust in him. It was obvious, however, that the men from the funeral home didn't exactly have their work cut out for them. Snape had always been willowy but, during the months of his tenure as Headmaster, he'd shrunk to practically a skeleton.

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust"

Another good man to the grave, Harry thought, clutching his wreath of arum lilies. He didn't like Snape, not after all the vitriol, but he respected him and, although he knew the man would take it as an insult, felt a fair amount of pity. No one should live a life like that.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned. A tall, slender man stood, dove-grey top hat in hand. In the thin sunlight, his blond hair gleamed.

"Mr. Nimrod?" Harry asked uncertainly, his childhood memory fuzzy.

"No" The man replied, his brown eyes solemn. "My name iz Cygnus Von Poseihudor und I haff ze last vill und testament of Mr. Snape. I am, how you call it, his executor."

"Oh." Please… Please let him just want to congratulate me. I couldn't bear it if…

"Ze funeral party are returnink to Hogvarts and your so kind Madam McGonagall haff invited me to speak vith you in her study."

"Okay, sure" Harry said hoarsely, "I'll, um, see you there."

Von Poseihudor bowed elegantly, then glided off into the crowd.

A small, soft warm hand slipped into Harry calloused fingers. He turned to look into Hermione's warm brown eyes. "It'll be okay, Harry. He probably just… maybe it's something of your mother's that Professor Snape was keeping safe."

"Maybe" Harry replied, his green eyes tired. Voldemort may be gone for good but the shockwaves his brief, violent life had created seemed like they would never fade.

"One more step along to world I go." He muttered. Great, now he was speaking to himself. Next step, St. Mungo's secure ward.

"And it's from the old I travel to the new, keep me travelling along with you" Hermione replied, a gentle smile on her pink lips.

oOoOo

"Hey mate, how was it?" Ron asked, wrapping a long hand around Harry's forearm.

"Tough. He didn't deserve that." Harry replied, watching affectionately as Ron enveloped Hermione a tight hug, resting his chin on her smooth chignon. The ginger bristles of his beard tugged a few locks loose but Hermione was too busy struggling to contain her tears to notice.

"I guess not." Concerned blue eyes flickered between his friends' pale, strained faces. "Perhaps I should have, y'know, been there for you. It just felt a bit, uh, hypocritical what with…"

"I understand, mate." Harry replied, turning to walk towards the castle. "Most of the people there felt uncomfortable. Except that Cygnus bloke; he's Snape's executor apparently."

"Cygnus?"

"German guy."

"Austrian from his accent" Hermione corrected, sorting through her bag. Over her head, the two young men shared an amused grin.

"Anyway, Snape's left me something."

"You sure you can trust him?" Ron asked, setting his shoulders. "It sounds a bit suspicious, this bequest. Perhaps Bill, Charlie and I should go have a chat with him."

"McGonagall seems to trust him" Hermione replied, clearing a smear of mascara from under her eyes "She's let him use her office."

"But… I mean, Durmstrang's in central Europe!"

Hermione shrugged "Professor Snape was a double agent, Ron. Most of the powerful witches and Wizards in Britain were either obvious targets or Death-eaters and, if he gave his will to a Death-eater… well, leaving something to you would make the recipient of every other bequest a target for Voldemort. Not to mention the fact that the contents of his estate would be confiscated. On the other hand, if Professor Snape gave his will to anyone else, it was likely that they would either destroy it when Dumbledore died, because Professor Snape had to seem to ally himself with Voldemort, or they might die at the hands of a death-eater. If the latter occurred, then the will might be found and Voldemort would know that Professor Snape was Dumbledore's man." Hermione paused, catching her breath. "So, all in all, it makes sense that Snape's executor would be foreign."

"Okay, sure" Ron replied, his brain reeling from the sudden influx of information.

Hermione nodded, breathing deeply as she stepped up the Castle stairs.

"I swear one day you're going to suffocate yourself; either lecture or hike, not both at once" Ron muttered under his breath.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned, the soft Scottish accent tugging his mouth into a smile "Yes Headmistress McGonagall."

"Not yet, lad." The elderly professor replied, her grey eyes sad. "And, as you and Miss Granger and Mr Weasley are not returning next year, I think it will be Minerva."

"Um, thanks." Harry replied, brushing his messy, dark hair away from his eyes. "You wanted to see me about something?"

"Yes, Von Poseihudor would like to see you as soon as is convenient. He has a long flight ahead, I hear. He's in my old office."

"Okay," Harry replied, swallowing "I'll go now."

oOoOo

Von Poseihudor was sitting at Mcgonagall, no, Minerva's desk when Harry creaked open the heavy door. Beside his immaculate hat lay a smooth, oval ebony box with an inlaid silver lid.

"If you vould care to take a seat, Mr. Potter?"

Adams apple bobbing in his narrow neck, Harry dragged a chair up to the desk.

"Severus vas a very gut friend of mine und he spoke very often about you." The man said softly, his voice, while easily as high as Voldemort's, was smooth and melodic. "He left zhis in my safe-keeping, to giff to you vhen ze vorld vas free of Voldemort."

"Um, thanks…" Harry replied, looking down at his hands, which were knotted in his lap.

"It vas his vish zhat you vould open it zo zhat I could explain." Von Poseihudor said gently, his brown eyes kind. "Zere vas something very particular he vished you to know."

Harry tentatively reached across and eased open the velvet lined lid.

Dum, der, dum, der, dum, der, du, der, Dum, der, dum, der, dum, der, du, der…

"A music box." Harry gasped, watching the small, obsidian swan glide across the silver disk in slow figures of eight, his coral beak glittering.

"Tchaikovsky's Schvarzer schvan" Von Poseihudor smiled "Severus commissioned it for your mother vhen zhey vere at school. Alas, it arrived razer too late."

"I…"

"Look inside."

Hands shaking, Harry carefully tugged at the black ribbon, easing the little platform up into the lid. His breath caught.

"Severus zhought zhat you might haff lost ze last vun durink your many trials." Von Poseihudor said quietly as Harry picked up the elegant, black feather quill.

"How did he get this" Harry asked, raising horrified green eyes to the man's all too kindly face. "What…"

"Zhere is a memory stored in ze tip." Von Poseihudor bent behind the desk, when he immerged, he was holding Dumbledore's pensieve.

Swallowing, Harry removed the silver lid and squeezed the quill over the pensieve. Slowly, a shimmering, pearlescent memory dripped out.

Seriously doubting whether he wanted to do this, Harry dipped his little finger into the pool. The world rippled silver.

Shadow, just as beautiful as Harry remembered him, stood over a small child, the tininess of the boy's form accentuated by the loose folds of his ragged school uniform. A trickle of blood ran from the child's messy hair to his grubby, thin cheek.

The swan blurred suddenly, elongating and straightening into a tall, thin man; the dark hair and eyes had remained, as did the hooked nose. His face, however, was ashen white.

"Harry!"

He knelt, raising the child in his arms. "Episkey, renovate!"

When the boy did not stir, Snape fumbled in the pocket of his billowing dark robes, retrieving a deep pink potion. Raising Harry into a sitting position, he trickled the liquid down the child's narrow throat, massaging to help him swallow. Harry coughed feebly, a sliver of emerald showed through the almost closed lids of his eyes. Snape stood and sprinted, barefoot, off into the woods, Harry clasped firmly in his arms.

The scene dissolved into a flurry of sliver, then reformed to reveal Dumbledore's office.

"We have several hours before that bitch arrives at the hospital, Albus. The wards on the St. Kilda safe-house are second to none, if you use the elder wand to act as my binder, even the Dark Lord himself won't be able to break the Fidelus charm." Snape was pacing, a ruby flush burning across his high cheekbones.

"Severus…"

"I'll take a sabbatical, I have enough galleons to tide us over until Harry is eleven…"

"Severus. Harry must stay with his Aunt…"

"No. He. Must. Not!" Snape snarled, whirling to face Dumbledore, his dark eyes flashing. "He is being abused, Albus! They lock him in a bloody cupboard for Christ's sake!"

Dumbledore looked away, his blue eyes dulled "I cannot say that I am pleased by this news of neglect…"

"Abuse, Albus! Positive abuse. They're starving him, threadbare clothes even in the heart of winter!"

"However, Harry can only be protected sufficiently by the blood wards on his Aunt's house. He may not be happy but at least he's alive…"

"That push could have killed him Albus! I cannot accept this. I will not!"

"Severus! That's enough" Dumbledore snapped, blue eyes glaring under bushy white eyebrows. "I will write to Petunia telling her that Harry must be adequately clothed and fed…"

"That is not enough! To grow up amid such hostility, it will warp the child…"

"He cannot leave his relatives, Severus" Albus insisted. "That is my final word on this matter!"

"What was the point on sending me to spy on the boy?" Snape sneered, tucking his hands into his black-silk sleeves. "I have devoted my evenings for three months to this child, only to be told that he must be left in his misery! What was the point!"

"I wished to know whether Harry was well."

"He isn't!"

"And, now that we have determined that there are no Death-Eaters in the area, I think it best that we leave the boy alone."

Snape blanched "Shadow is his mainstay... You cannot ask me to abandon the child."

Dumbledore sighed "I never meant for you to become close to Harry, Severus. He is too young for subterfuge and you, I am sorry to say, must strive to remain in Lucius' good graces."

"There is no must about it!"

"You know that, for Harry to survive Voldemort's return, we need information." Dumbledore replied in a tone which brooked no opposition. "You are our only spy within Voldemort's inner circle and, therefore, our best hope, especially if I do not outlive the next war. Hogwarts cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of a real Deatheater. Imagine how many children would suffer. Innocent lives would be lost, Severus, if you were not here to protect them!"

Angry tears glittered in those obsidian eyes "So, I must learn to treat Harry like a stranger."

"You must treat him like the child who murdered your beloved leader." The old headmaster said heavily. "The Death-eaters' children will be watching your every move; if you treat Harry with anything less than dislike, their suspicions will be aroused."

"And what if Harry is sorted into my house!" Severus snarled, his dark eyes flashing. "What then!"

"There will be measures taken to avoid that turn of events."

"Damn you, Albus. Damn you!"

A smooth, alabaster hand reached around Harry's forearm, tugging him out of the pensieve, into the sunlit office. Pale and shaking, Harry began to retch. A bowl appeared in front of him and, as Harry vomited, a gentle hand swept the teenager's mop of dark hair from his sweating brow.

"Zhese are ze bitter vaters but, vhen you remember in ze future, your recollections vill be sveet." Von Poseihudor intoned soothingly. "He loved you Harry. Oh, yes, you made him angry at times but he alvays remembered ze leetle boy who von his heart."

Breathing deeply, Harry looked up with tear-filled green eyes. "I didn't even… I never thought Shadow might be an Animagus…"

"It vas a terrible secret for him; Severus' true form vould have instantly told his allegiance for svans are ze purest of birds. Alas, he did not register himself ven he found his form. I vould haff called him to my Court und Voldemort could not haff ensnared him vith his lies..."

Harry nodded, his heart-rate slowing "I don't know how to feel. I mean, I guess I should feel a bit betrayed- I trusted Shadow- but, well… I just feel sad."

"His only crime vas pity, Harry" Von Poseihudor replied. "Und, perhaps, loving not visely but to vell. Severus never meant to deceive you, only to watch from afar, yet it is too easy by leetle kindnesses to vin a child's heart und, in doing zo, lose vun's own."

Harry nodded. "I understand. It's just hard, y'know. But thanks."

Von Poseihudor smiled. "I am glad zhat you understand. Now, I must fly, it is late und my journey is long. If you are efer passing ze Tyrol, you vould be most velcome to visit vith me."

With a bow, the elegant man opened the large window and, in one, swift movement, blurred into a snowy white swan. Sitting on the window-ledge he whistled softly, before spreading his wings and stepping off into the darkening air. Rushing to the window, Harry was just in time to see the air-currents catch those immense wings, sending the ghostly form gliding across the lake, into the evening.

Sighing heavily, Harry walked back to the desk. He stared at the pensieve, remembering the last time he'd viewed Snape's memories. Everything took on a different complexion now. No wonder Snape had looked like he wanted to hit Dumbledore when he realised Harry was being raised like a pig for slaughter. Pity the memory had faded out then, Harry thought bitterly, he'd have liked to see what happened next…

Dipping the quill into the pensieve, Harry retrieved Snape's final memory. It felt strange to hold one of Shadow… no, Snape's feathers after all these years. It was still as soft as he remembered. Harry sighed, recalling the swan's eyes; sometimes hard as black diamonds, at other times as gentle and warm as treacle. However, Snape's eyes had always glittered with the former expression when he looked upon Harry. Well, almost always.

"Look at me." he had said, just before he died. There had been no animosity in those obsidian orbs, no sarcasm or cruelty or anger. Just gentle compassion. In hindsight, it could even have been love.

Closing the pen, Harry laid it reverently in the box and, as he did so, the back of his hand brushed something rough and dry. A small scroll of paper.

Half anxious, half exited, Harry peeled the paper open.

Beneath the scrawled poem, written in a child's unsteady hand, a cut-out swan floated on a tarnished circle of tinfoil.

A lump growing in his throat, Harry snapped the box shut. When, eventually, he opened his unusually shiny eyes, it was to see words forming, in an all too familiar hand, upon the silver inlay.

"You're a very fine swan indeed."

Smiling through his tears, Harry laughed as his subconscious whispered the final verse of his amended song;

"Not a quack, not a quack, not a waddle or a quack
But a glide and a whistle and a inky black back
And a head so noble and high.
So who's an ugly duckling?
Not I!"