Setting the steaming plates onto the table, I glance towards the sitting area. Harry still hasn't come down, and it's been at least an hour since he has gone up there. I wonder what the boy has found up there that has interested him so much. After all, I know for a fact that the boy hasn't tried to escape yet. My wards are still very much intact.

"Dinner is ready!" I call out, knowing he can hear me. However, when I hear no response, verbal or otherwise, I move towards the hidden stairs to find him. Since he has had the world that he knows completely shatter around him by my revelations earlier, I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and not tear him to shred. After all, I have a lot of making up to do with my son. "Harry?" I call out, glancing at the four closed doors. Revise that. There are three closed doors, not four. "Harry?" I repeat, pushing open the slightly cracked door. I then sigh as I find him sitting in the rocking chair with large tears streaming down his cheeks.

"What—" He swallows harshly before attempting to speak again. "What is all this?"

"It's a nursery," I simply respond, remaining in the doorway.

"Who's?" he asks, glancing up and catching my eyes.

"I think you are bright enough to know that answer, Harry." I watch him for a few moments before more tears fall as he holds himself a bit tighter. "I perhaps should have locked this door on second thought. Or at least told you not to go in here," I quietly say.

"Why?"

"Because it has only managed to upset you more," I plainly answer.

"No," he responds, shaking his head. "Why?" he asks, waving a hand at the toys and other miscellaneous objects. "Why would you collect all this stuff?"

"I suppose it was because I thought I would get over my stubbornness and pessimism and say 'screw it. I want my son' some day."

"But you didn't," he points out.

"Not until I nearly lost you with the basilisk fiasco last term, no," I agree somewhat.

"Why?"

"Miss Weasley informed the Headmaster how a basilisk tooth became embedded in your arm, requiring his familiar to shed tears for you. You likely would have died had it not been for Fawkes." I watch Harry's reaction, but he hides it well from me. "Therefore, the Headmaster believed it necessary that I be made aware of this near death."

"That's when you asked him to get your rights returned, right?"

"Yes. However, the Ministry does not appreciate that I have you again." I watch him open his mouth, so I hold up a hand to stop him. "Before you even ask me why, it is because of my past." I then sigh. "You, Granger, and Weasley all believed your first year that I tried to kill you, correct?" He nods. "You thought that because I seem to have an air of mystery, perhaps even darkness around me, correct?" He inclines his head again. "You three believed that I was attempting to hand the stone to the Dark Lord at the time, correct?" He nods once more. "And in your heart, you wonder if I am the reason that your parents are dead, correct?" He shakes his head. "Perhaps not now, but you did just this morning, correct?" He shakes his head again, causing me to sigh before I undo my left sleeve and push it upwards to bare my arm to him.

"What is that?" he asks quietly, staring curiously at my faded Dark Mark.

"A stain on my soul," I respond. I then point to it, wondering if I've gone too far with him. "This mark shows others that I once served the Dark Lord, willingly." I stand my ground when his green eyes glance up in shock. "I was sixteen when I was branded. I thought it would bring about a certain fear in others, but it only brought about destruction, pain, blood, and bodies. If I had the option to relive that night, I would have never went, Harry."

"You were one of His?" he asks barely above a whisper.

"I was."

"But you don't serve him anymore?"

"I have not served him since I was with your mother."

"She knew?"

"That I was one of his followers, yes, I believe she knew. She likely didn't want to believe it, though. I didn't want to believe it."

"You're not His now, though?"

"No. Though, I haven't a clue why I am entrusting you, a twelve-year-old, with that sort of knowledge. I have never been known for my ability to trust."

"Because of your dad," he responds quietly.

"Perhaps in part, yes, but I also trusted the Dark Lord when he claimed that I would be all-powerful and that others would bow before me." I then scoff. "Lies, they were all lies." When he glances at me, I shake my head. "I am not stating that I wish it were true now. I am semi content being a lowly Potions master at the supreme school of wizardry and witchcraft. It has its upside as opposed to being a follower of the Dark Lord."

"Because you don't have to kill anyone anymore?" he asks, strangely calm.

"Because I do not have to commit any more crimes," I reply with a sigh. "Some days it as if I was never a follower but always a Potions master at Hogwarts." I watch him nod slowly. "You have every right to scream at me, Harry."

"It won't do any good," he responds glumly.

"Perhaps not, but it would allow you to cease in hiding your emotions from me."

"Did you love us? Did you really love us? Or was this some sort of cheap ploy?"

I then sigh, drawing my wand. He is likely not going to understand it now, but it might do some good later when he does. Wordlessly, I cast a Patronus, feeling my heart constrict at the lovely ethereal doe standing between us. I watch the doe glance at both of us before walking slowly towards Harry. I hear the soft gasp from the boy as he recognizes the doe's eyes as his mother's and end the spell.

"How did you do that?" he asks with eyes full of wonder and awe.

"It's a defensive spell. It is typically used to ward one's self from Dementors, the guards of the Wizarding World's prison." I watch him nod slowly in understanding. "The animal it takes has some sort of meaning for the wizard or witch."

"So then the deer has some sort of meaning for you?"

"Yes, it does." I then sigh. "Your father's Patronus, the thing you just saw now, was a stag, while Lily's was a doe."

"And your Patronus is a doe like Mum's," he interrupts.

"Sometimes a wizard's love is not reciprocated. So that intense, unreciprocated love alters the wizard's Patronus to take the shape of his loved one," I explain.

"So your Patronus took Mum's shape," he states, making me incline my head. "Then does that mean since I love Mum lots too, that my Patronus, when I get it, will be a doe?"

"I would imagine you would have a stag like James," I reply.

"Why?"

"Because every time I brought up James, you fiercely defended him," I answer. "There is also the fact that you take after him in your ability to be a natural flier."

"But you're my real father," he points out.

"Yes, but you spent your first year with James, not me. You'd be surprised what sorts of things a child learns that first year."

"You don't serve Him anymore?"

"I do not."

"You won't send me back to the Dursleys if I become too much of a burden?"

"You will never be a burden to me, Harry. So you need not worry about my sending you back."

"You loved Mum?"

"Yes."

"And you love me?"

"I would think that this room attests for that fact, Harry," I drawl. After all, there are all sorts of toys in this room, including the handmade crib with runes carved into the wood beside him.

"I think," he starts to say, letting his voice trail off. Drawing in a breath, he starts to speak again. "I think I would have liked living here." He then glances at me with teary eyes. "With you, I mean."

I hesitantly cross the room, clearly unsure of myself. I can see in Harry's posture that he too is unsure of himself with me. I then stop a foot from him, letting him choose the next course of action. I close my eyes in relief as the boy steps forward before timidly embracing me.

"This seems so fast, doesn't it?" he mumbles against my chest a few minutes later.

"I admit that I estimated we would reach this stage in a couple of months after you had broken nearly everything in sight at least twice from the sheer fury of being related to the greasy bat," I reply. I feel him laugh against me with a familiar wetness soaking my chest from his shed tears. "However, this isn't the first time I've misjudged someone."

"You know, I think I always knew," he says quietly, hugging me tighter.

"I am afraid I don't follow your logic, Harry," I respond.

"Sometimes, well, I don't know how to describe it." He then sighs, tensing slightly a moment later as I apprehensively place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "At night, I'd remember a smell," he whispers. "At first I thought it was Mum's smell because it reminded me of fresh-cut flowers. But as I got older, I started to realize that it wasn't flowers. It was herbs as if someone had been cooking."

"And you smell it now?" I ask, glancing down at the twelve-year-old.

"No," he responds against my chest. "I mean, there's a hint of it, but it isn't as strong as it was before," he answers. "But then again sometimes when I was really sick, I'd hear a voice that I just knew was my dad. The Dursleys thought I was crazy for thinking that I could hear my dead father."

"What did this voice say?" I ask, wondering if it was James' words or mine.

"I am sorry, my son," he recites, burying his face further into my midsection. "I thought maybe Dad was apologizing for not being able to protect us."

"He was," I respond before grimacing at my blunder. "I mean, I was apologizing for that, but that I was giving you up also. I thought it would be better that way if I did."

"But it wasn't," he mumbles against me, crying again.

"No, you're right. It wasn't," I admit.

"Why do I remember that?"

"I likely left by accident some sort of imprint on your mind so you would. My full words to you were 'Know that I love you, and that I am sorry, my son. This is for the best, though." I feel him nod against me, painfully digging his nose into my midsection even more.

Yelping near our feet makes me glance down and scoff. I should have known she'd have finally woken.

She might be getting up there in age, but her hearing has always been remarkable.

"Whose dog is that?" Harry asks, pulling back from me to glance at the black lab.

That would be your dog. Had you lived with me, that is. I've been taking care of her for you."

"How old is she?"

"She's twelve, the same as you."

"So she's old then," he responds, just staring at her.

"So is your mangy mutt Snuffles," I point out. I nearly then roll my eyes when the mutt enters the room, glancing at both of us. "I take it by the poor condition of his coat that he is a stray?"

"He came up to me when I was weeding the garden a week ago."

"So he's a stray then," I reply with a sigh. "Well, we will likely have to get him looked over by a mediwizard." I then grimace as I catch the way that mutt is staring at my dog. I don't say it aloud, but I am definitely going to have that mangy thing neutered as soon as possible. "Remain here for a moment."

"Why?"

"I'm going to see if Norm, my mediwizard who takes care of Eb, can find some time to see your dog today." Harry gives me a strange look for a moment. "Oh, um, her name is Ebony," I answer before walking out of the room, leaving the two dogs to watch over my son.

My actual conversation with Norm doesn't take long. In fact, Norm says that he can fit in the mutt's appointment two minutes from now. I thank the mediwizard and walk back upstairs.

Without giving much warning, I stun the mutt. Harry leaps up, clearly outraged. "Dogs do not travel well by Floo," I explain, satisfying him for the moment but I can see the other question on his mind. "And your dog has a history of biting me so I needed to catch him off guard. I apologize, Harry, but he will be fine. Now, are you ready to accompany me to the vet?" He nods, glaring, and we depart.