Apparate...  run.

Apparate...  run.

Backtrack, Portkey…

Apparate… 

Sweating profusely, hair and beard in a tangled mess and his robes – once fine wool and fur, now tattered and torn – hung off of him as he resembled an Inferi more than a man; he collapsed in exhaustion and terror outside the ramshackle hut in the middle of the most remote range of the Scottish Highlands. A converted shepherd’s hovel, it served as a temporary hideaway for the wizard who was struggling to escape his fate. Casting weak wards over the hut, he threw himself onto the pile of smelly rags in the back corner, dragging a few over his wasted frame. For weeks he’d been running and hiding, ever since the burning on his arm told him of the Dark Lord’s return. He had barely been one step ahead of his former colleagues for several days and he knew he was taking a hellish risk by stopping and resting – but he was so exhausted that just casting the wards on this hut had nearly caused him to pass out.  Even thinking about another Apparition was almost enough to make him splinch. At this rate, he’d never have enough energy to cross over to the main continent.

No, the wards were pathetically weak but they should warn him of anyone approaching – this horrendous gamble would allow him to recharge his magical core with a few desperately needed hours of sleep before he moved on again.

Succumbing to the exhaustion that was dragging down his eyelids, Igor Karkarof fell asleep.

)O-O(

Harry sat in a tree, high above a babbling brook that ran merrily on its way below him. He was staring at a letter that had arrived via owl but clearly had passed through a few hands before reaching him. He stroked his hand over the envelope that had seen better days, stains marring its surface, corners dog-eared and worn. Several cancelled stamps graced the top right corner and the handwriting – the handwriting addressing the letter: Harry James Potter-Snape c/o Hogwarts School was as familiar to him as his own. It should be; he’d spent most of his childhood between the age of five and coming to Hogwarts correcting everything written in it.

This was a letter from his cousin Dudley.

He dreaded opening it, assuming that there would be vitriol spewing from his cousin’s hand – and rightly so. It was Harry’s fault his parents were either dead, or in prison awaiting a death sentence. Granted they had brought these sentences upon themselves due to their treatment of Harry, but deep down Harry knew that it was his testimony, his memories, that had put them away. He still felt guilty.

He toyed with the envelope, turning it over and over in his hands, delaying the inevitable.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Draco prompted, getting annoyed with his brother. He had followed Harry out here and his brother hadn’t said a word as they had hiked to this remote section of the grounds. “Who’s it from anyway?”

Harry sighed. “My cousin.”

Draco raised his eyebrow at that in a fair imitation of their father. “After all this time?” Harry just nodded his head, looking down at the envelope in his lap. “Well, he can’t curse you literally… Do you want me to open it for you?” he offered softly.

Harry sighed then nodded, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them after Draco took the missive. He watched silently as the older boy expertly broke the seal on the back, drawing out a single sheet of paper. He waved it at Harry. “Want me to read it, too?” he gently asked. His brother’s pleading eyes answered him so he carefully unfolded the piece of lined notebook paper, scanning it quickly before taking a big breath to begin.

“Harry,

I know you are surprised that I’ve written, and I wasn’t sure how this would get to you – but the counsellor they’ve had me work with said this was how I could write to you. He seems to have some connection with... Wizards.

Draco looked up from the post, cocking an eyebrow at Harry. “Do you think...”

“Whitney? Yeah, I do,” he confirmed. Draco snorted then continued on with his reading.

It’s taken me a long time to get over the anger and shame I felt after everything that summer, but I’ve had three years now to come to terms with what a right bunch of gits my family were to you and how wrong it was to treat you that way. No one should ever have to face that, I know that now – although it has taken me a long time to realise that. In fact something happened this summer to wake me up to this and make me really understand what the counsellors had been nattering on about.

I was walking back to the school from my summer job, talking with my escort, when the air got suddenly freezing and I felt all depressed inside... as if nothing was ever going to be right again. I couldn’t see anything but my guard had pulled out his wand and was yelling words at something, a large white light exploded from his wand but I was already too far gone. I felt as if I wanted to give up and I was seeing all the games and pranks we used to play on you, hunting you, tormenting you... I was seeing it from YOUR perspective, Harry, I don’t understand how... and I saw my parents beating you, starving you... I could feel your pain. It was horrible and terrifying.

When I woke up in Hospital, my guard told me we had been attacked by Dementors and what they were. He said it was a good thing he had spotted me that day and decided to walk with me back to the school, otherwise I’d be SOULLESS. See, I normally don’t have an escort – but I had worked late and he was heading back to the school as well to go on duty guarding me.

Do you think Dad saw the same things when the Dementor sucked out his soul? Did he feel this way in his last moments, realising that what we had done was so wrong? Because it was – I know and really understand that now. Do you think Mum understands this? She is stuck in that prison everyday with those things...

I can understand if you don’t want anything to do with me – I fully deserve that – but I wanted you to know that I understand now and that I know what we did was awful and, frankly, criminal. I just hope that someday you will forgive me for my part in it, but will understand if you don’t or can’t.

Dudley D.”

Draco refolded the letter, sliding it back into the envelope and handing it back to his brother who just took it and tucked it between his torso and his legs, resuming hugging them tight. They sat quietly for a few more moments in the tree, the summer air stirring the leaves around them, the brook below murmuring on its way and birds calling to each other on the wind. The sun shone bright in stark contrast to the mood in the tree. Harry didn’t move, staring straight ahead, rarely blinking but obviously not focusing on anything visual in front of him.

Draco sat patiently, picking at a bit of fraying in the old pair of jeans he was wearing, periodically peeking at his brother before he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Harry?” he queried hesitantly.

His brother blinked, then pushed his glasses back into place letting his eyes slide over and focus on Draco. He understood the question: his brother was asking if he was alright and he was; he just had a massive question that was taxing his brain and he didn’t really like the answer he was coming up with. He raised his chin up off his knees, piercing his brother with an emerald gaze and stunning the teen with his next question.

“Why were there Dementors in Surrey?”

)O-O(

Harry knocked on the doorframe of the library to announce his presence. His father looked up, startled, from the copy of the Prophet he was reading. He waved his son in, folding up the paper and placed it on the table next to him. He hadn’t expected his sons back so soon from their sojourn this morning. He’d been concerned when Harry had received a letter at breakfast that had caused the boy to blanch noticeably. Harry had quickly excused himself and had hurried from the room, Draco hot on his heels. Severus had watched through the large leaded windows as the two had taken off across the grounds. If they weren’t back in time for the afternoon training, he would have sent one of the House-elves after them. But here they were – Draco hovering in the hallway - two brooms clutched in his hands, waiting, and Harry clearly worried about something, the letter from this morning clutched in his hand.

Harry crossed the expanse of oriental carpets to the sitting area his father preferred amongst the tomes of knowledge. It was situated such that there was a nearby fireplace for cold days and a tall window that let in light for daytime reading. There were several deep-cushioned chairs there, perfect for curling up in for a spot of reading – or sitting primly in as his father preferred. Reaching his sire, he handed the man the letter from his cousin and perched on the edge of a nearby chair, too agitated to relax.

Severus raised an eyebrow at his son’s behaviour, but accepted the envelope and after a sideways glance at Harry’s fidgeting hands, he flipped the envelope over to read the address. Noticing the Surrey cancellation mark, he slipped the note out after gaining a hand-waved permission from Harry.

To say he was stunned at Dursley’s letter would be mild; although, he was grateful the boy was coming around and seeing the error of his ways but...

“Why were there Dementors in Surrey?” Harry finally blurted out loud, as if reading his father’s mind. “I thought they were confined to Azkaban and not allowed anywhere except by permission of the Ministry – like in third year when they were hunting Sirius. Were they trying to kill Dudley? Who would want to do that? I mean, I hated him while we were growing up – yeah – but I’d never want him dead!” he fumed.

“He was a very lucky young man that his regular guard ran across him and was escorting him back to school,” Severus murmured.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out. He looked down at his agitated hands then back up into his father’s face. Severus read the consternation and confusion written there. He attempted to soothe the ruffled lion’s mane.

“Harry, I don’t know – none of this was reported in the paper. Let me speak with Moody and Tonks about it this afternoon at training; they may have some better idea of what is going on. It is very troubling that those creatures were out loose; you have the correct idea to think that someone was probably after your cousin; as to why? I can think of several reasons – can you?” he prompted.

“Yes,” the boy acknowledged. “Revenge for hurting me or to make me hurt... either way, it doesn’t matter, he should not be a target!” he said forcefully, raising his voice in vexation.

“I agree, son. In fact the first reason is why he was originally assigned the guard detail. They were put there when he began receiving threats.” Harry sat up straighter, surprised at that, but then relaxed back into the cushions in understanding. He knew that there were people out there who wanted revenge for the pain that was caused him; his “stalkers” he had half-joked with his friends. People who identified with him so absolutely that they were willing to take on imagined battles for him. Hermione thought they were sad, and he had to somewhat agree.

“Until I speak with the Aurors, though,” Severus continued, “we won’t know the reasoning. As your guardian, I should have been kept apprised as to what was happening with your cousin – especially anything magical in nature. The fact that I have not been so informed is troubling in and of itself.” He steepled his fingers, tapping them against his mouth in thought for a moment before letting them drop back into his lap where he tapped the letter.

“What about his last question?” he asked softly.

Harry stared down at the rug. “Forgiveness? I guess I forgave him a long time ago – one reason why I didn’t want him to go to prison with his mum... He was only doing what his father was doing. At that age... I guess I could see him changing and hoped that everything would open his eyes. It doesn’t mean I forget what he did,” he hurriedly told his father, finally raising his gaze to rest on his father’s face. “It just means I understand,” he clarified.

“Are you going to write him back?” Severus asked.

“Later. After you find out what’s been happening? I think that would be best. I wouldn’t know how to be chit-chatty in a letter to him and I’d rather have something concrete to give him.” He stood, jamming his hands in his pockets and shuffling his trainers on the carpet. “Let me know what you find out? Please?”

“Of course, Harry. I’ll speak with them this afternoon during training,” he reaffirmed.

Harry finally graced him with a relieved smile before thanking him and heading off to rejoin his brother. Draco shared a glance and a nod with his father before handing the Nimbus to his brother, holstering the Firebolt over his own shoulder and leading them away.

)O-O(

Watching from the sidelines as the students practiced Bombarda hexes against hay bales; Severus finally voiced his concern over Dursley’s Dementor attack.

“Frankly, Snape, if that Auror hadn’t been with the Dursley boy, no one would have believed his story. He would’ve been the victim of an unknown attack, reduced to a comatose hunk of flesh until the body forgot to work. There are several in the Ministry who still can’t believe it happened and are trying to keep it hushed up. I’m surprised you even got the letter!” Moody growled.

Severus smiled grimly. “His counsellor had him mail it to Hogwarts using the Muggle Parent’s postal address. Minerva forwarded it on to us via her owl – she handles all the school post, you know.”

Moody chuckled. “Clever – got right past the checkpoints.” Snape nodded – watching the teenagers spray the area with bits of straw as they drilled holes through the centres of the bales. They all had been improving over the last few weeks and this would be the last session before school began. He needed to return to the castle to get his classroom ready.

Tonks kept her eye on the students as well, listening to her mentor and his friend. “I can tell you what the scuttlebutt is around the Auror office,” she offered slyly, gaining the attention of the other adults.

“And that is?” Moody prompted, rolling his eye at her. He liked the quirky Hufflepuff, but you could read her moods via her hair like one of those Muggle mood stones from back in the seventies. Currently it was magenta, matching her bemused stance at knowing something her superiors didn’t.

“Fudge has several cronies in the Ministry who all kow-tow to him; chief among them is Delores Umbridge – a sycophant if there ever was one.” She shuddered. “The woman adores the colour pink.”

“Says the woman who regularly sports that as a hair colour,” Moody pointed out, literally pointing at her current colour. She pulled down a curl to look at it then let it pop back with a look of disgust at her mentor.

“I do not – Fuchsia, maybe, but never nauseating pink – like stomach soother potion! Her entire office is decked out in it. In any case,” she hurried on, ignoring the pained looks on the men’s faces – Adam’s apples bobbing in Pavlovian responses to the suggested potion, “before she became undersecretary to Fudge last year, she was the director of the Magical Creatures department and had direct control over all magical creatures. Remember, she was the one who sponsored all those abhorrent bills restricting Werewolves and Centaurs? Tried to do the same with Veelas wanting to immigrate as well.”

The others nodded in remembrance, Lupin glowering from his position on the other side of her.

“Your point, Nymphadora?” her superior goaded, delighting in her hair going bright red in anger. She hated her given name and he was enough of a Slytherin to enjoy seeing her get riled up when he used it. Besides, she needed to stop being so picky about it.

“Say that again and I’ll use Lavare on your mouth!” she growled. He just leered back.  “My point,” she continued, studiously ignoring him and addressing the rest of the men, “is that her department was also in charge of the Azkaban guards – all the guards.”

“She was in control of the Dementors?” Lupin asked.

“I believe that is what she was implying, wolf,” Severus drawled, earning a glare. “So, Umbridge could have sent the Dementors to Surrey to attack Dursley – but I don’t understand her game.”

“To hurt Harry?” Lupin ventured. Severus conceded with a nod.

“Harry thought the same thing. Fudge is being slow to react to His return – stopping short of outright denying it and calling my son a liar. He can’t, not with all the eyewitness reports. But Tom is currently lying low, gathering his troops, lulling the Ministry into a false sense of security that he is weaker than before and therefore not as much of a threat. And if you’ve been reading the Prophet, it has become evident that the Ministry is controlling what the paper has been publishing, allowing only stories that paint Harry as a delusional, hormonal teenager – blowing this thing way out of proportion. Someone could believe that by taking out Dursley they would be weakening Harry; threatening him to stay quiet.”

“That sounds like Umbridge,” Tonks quipped. “Most vindictive and manipulative woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“How has Harry taken the news?” Remus asked, concerned.

“Badly; although some good actually came from it. Apparently, Dudley was thrown back into his memories of his treatment of Harry – experiencing them from Harry’s standpoint in a way, or at least more objectively. After three years he is finally able to understand and regret his and his family’s actions and has asked that Harry try to forgive him. Harry’s response was that he’d forgiven him a long time ago, but could never forget.” He shrugged as his eyes continued to scan the students practicing in front of him, watching them with an eagle eye. Coming to a quick decision he snapped out a quick “Halt!” watching in satisfaction as all the students dropped their arms and turned to face him, readiness and wariness evident on their faces. Moody grunted, obviously wishing his own Auror trainees would respond with such alacrity.

“Broom practice – last man flying gets ten more points added to their house total at the start of term. Hexes and jinxes only, nothing irreversible, melee-style, every man for him or herself – those who land on the ground may attempt to bring down remaining flyers – but if you are tagged twice, you are out of the game permanently. Go!” he barked. The teens ran to where their brooms lay to the side of the field, calling them to hand and racing into the wind for the practice field centre. This was an exercise they were familiar with that their instructors had instituted during the first week. It gave them a chance to work off steam, practice all the spells learned so far and use them in a practical application. Currently, Gryffindor was in the lead, but only by five points. The rest of the houses were tied in this impromptu house point race which was saying a lot considering the majority of the students being taught sported Red and Gold badges.

The adults watched as Harry and Draco seemed to have a personal mission today of winning those points, knocking their opponents out of the sky one by one, casually retagging them on the ground quickly so they were not a side threat. Ginny surprised them by taking out Neville with a well placed signature Bat Bogey hex – he had swiped at his face one too many times and managed to slide off his broom, unable to recover quick enough. Pansy then came up behind the youngest Weasley, sliding her forward off her broom with a well-placed Bombarda.

Still, with all the good flying and spells, it came down to Harry and Draco who remained in the air firing spells at each other across ten feet of space. The rest of the students sat panting in the grass, looking up and watching the battle in the sky. The adults walked closer, wands at the ready to catch whoever fell first. Tonks and Lupin took a closer look at the combatants.

“Does Harry...” Tonks murmured.

“...have his eyes closed?” Lupin asked, a hint of wonder colouring his voice.

“Hmmm,” was all Severus and Moody said as they watched, carefully assessing the battle. Finally, a flick of the wrist – faster than anyone could see – and Draco was spinning to the ground, a look of resignation on his face as he was caught and lowered gently to the turf by his instructors; his broom floating down beside him.

Harry dismounted amidst the congratulations of his friends and walked over to his brother.

“You almost had me – if you hadn’t...”

“I know – if I hadn’t let that small area open in the shield... I’ll work on overlapping the shields better and get you next time, O Brother Dear,” he teased, playfully knocking Harry’s queue about, causing it to swing around and smack Harry in the cheek. He growled at Draco and playfully wrestled him to the ground, attempting to tickle him before he realised it wouldn’t work. He sat back on his haunches giving Draco a dirty look.

“That is no fair, you know! One of these days...” he huffed.

“I told you, you’d have to find it yourself! Now get off!” he said, pushing his brother off of him to tumble over on the grass next to him laughing.

Severus stopped next to the pair, a pleased look on his face. “Well done, Harry. As promised, ten more points to start the year off with and I believe that wins the Gryffindors the summer house cup. You have first dibs at the ice cream sundae fixings on the porch.” He helped his sons up off the ground and they all ran to the flagstone patio behind the glass conservatory where the house-elves had laid out the treat.

The instructors leisurely walked to the area, letting the teens build their sundaes first although Lupin led the pack with Tonks right behind him. He loaded his dish up with chocolate, adding every chocolate topping he could find.

Severus eyed the concoction with distaste. “Seriously, wolf, you’ll be hyped up on all that caffeine and sugar!”

“Won’t last long,” he countered, licking his spoon lovingly earning an appreciative look from the young Auror next to him. “Fast metabolism.” He quirked his eyebrows in humour and escorted Tonks to one of the several Bistro chair and table sets that were scattered on the patio where they began a low murmured conversation, her hair turning a contented pale blue.

Severus snorted to himself as he watched them for a moment then smiled as he spotted Narcissa carrying Calista onto the patio. He walked over, taking the toddler from her mother.

Calista loved her Uncle Severus and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling into the fabric of his summer robes.

“Someone is still sleepy, I see,” he noted to her mother as he patted the little girl’s back. It had taken awhile to get used to the affectionate child. He was comfortable with occasionally giving his sons hugs when needed, but Calista Marie was another creature altogether who was constantly climbing into any available lap and hugging its owner. She was quite free with these hugs and cuddles as long as it was someone she considered family – which had expanded to quite a large number of people over the past few weeks. Her favourite, though, was her godfather. His robes smelled especially homey and she had taught him how to cuddle to her satisfaction. He was a quick learner.

“Long nap today – growth spurt and she had a bout of accidental magic this morning when throwing a fit over having to put away her toys. Draco used to go through the same thing,” she pointed out.

“I remember - vividly,” he said, bemused. Draco had been a wilful child until he had taken him in and adopted him. Some of it was acting out against Lucius’ steel hand, but a lot of the early incidents stemmed around a child bored and with no one but house-elves to play with. He had latched onto Severus the moment his godfather would step into the manor, throwing tremendous fits when it was time for him to leave, wreaking magical havoc when he did so.

He led them over to a larger patio grouping, letting the little girl curl up in his lap until she noticed the ice-cream table. Then she was wide awake, running over to the table where Draco was standing with Hermione, tugging on his pant leg.

“Dwaco – ice cweam!” she insisted, garnering chuckles from everyone.

“What kind do you want, Callie?” he asked, lifting up the little girl so she could look over her choices.

“Pink!” she exclaimed. He dutifully set her down and dished her up a small portion of strawberry with some sliced strawberries and chocolate sprinkles on top. He led her back to his parents and the table where she could stand and eat, conjuring a napkin that he tied around her neck to protect her dress. He and Hermione joined the family group with Harry and Pansy across from them.

“This is a nice treat, Severus,” Narcissa complimented, enjoying her own dish of Vanilla.

“Seemed the thing to do on the last day of lessons. The kids deserved it after all their hard work. I’m quite pleased with the results. I head back tomorrow,” he reminded her. “Are you going to be able to handle all three for a week?” he teased.

“Dad!” came the twin retorts of his sons.

“I’ll be fine, dear,” she reassured. “I’ll have them to the station on time, no worries. In fact, I was thinking of possibly going to the Alley the day before to get them fitted...” she stopped when she saw him shake his head.

“Too risky right now,” he explained. “All of their supplies were owl ordered as soon as the lists came out and the tailor has already been here. Their new robes and uniforms should be here on Wednesday.” His boys nodded their heads affirmatively at Narcissa who shrugged as she realised everything was taken well in hand.

“All right, then we will have fun in other ways. Don’t worry about us,” she assured him, patting his knee. He did not look reassured at all.

“Aunt Narcissa?”

Narcissa put her dish down on the table as Tonks approached their little grouping, Lupin hovering behind her.

“Nymphadora,” she said politely. She knew the girl despised her first name, but it was what she was named and Narcissa wasn’t about to use her last name, nor shorten it either, not until they knew each other better.

“Mother asked that I give you this,” she said, holding out a thick parchment envelope. “She asked me to extend her belated condolences on your loss earlier this summer.”

Narcissa rose to accept the envelope, staring down at the first correspondence she’d received from Andromeda in nearly twenty years.

“How is she?” she asked quietly.

“Well. She is doing very well,” her niece confirmed. Narcissa nodded her head.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Gathering her courage she looked up at the young Auror. “Please, let her know I appreciate her concern and will respond soon.”

“I will,” the girl acknowledged, then let Lupin guide her away back to their small table for two – her hair brightening up a few shades as his hand rested in the small of her back.

Narcissa watched them a moment before sitting back down, tucking the envelope into her lap. “I do believe I better warn my sister of some future nuptials,” she pronounced to her group at large. Every young person snapped their head around to watch the couple for a few moments before getting huge grins on their faces.