“Alright, Callie, take the cutter and press down on the dough – and wiggle it a little bit, like this,” Harry instructed, demonstrating how to cut out a sugar biscuit with a biscuit cutter. The little girl, decked out in an old shirt of Harry’s – sleeves rolled up and out of the way, covered head to toe in white flour and grinning delightedly, carefully took the dog-shaped, rolled-tin cutter by its handle and pressed it into the flattened dough. She wiggled it just like her brother showed her and watched in awe as he helped her lift up the cutter with the dough neatly cut out inside the bottom edge. He tapped it onto the waiting baking sheet where it dropped out and joined several more shapes waiting to be baked.

“Do we add spwinkles now, Hawwy?” she asked.

“Nope, after they’re done baking. Draco – got the next ball of dough ready?” he asked his brother. Harry had gathered the siblings together in the kitchen to have a bit of baking fun when the skies had opened up with torrential downpours that did not appear to be letting up anytime soon. The week had been uneventful so far since Severus had left to ready his classroom and brew stock potions for Madam Pomfrey. Narcissa had managed to keep everyone busy with continued lessons in dancing, fencing and estate management but without the defence class, their afternoons were their own. As much as the boys loved flying and practicing Quidditch moves – it became old pretty fast.

When the downpour had started after their last lesson, they had decided to play board games with their sister teaching her classic games such as Nine-Man Morris, Snakes and brooms and a card matching game similar to “Go fish”. This lasted for about an hour and a half before Callie got frustrated. That was when Harry had decided to bake sugar biscuits.

He hadn’t cooked since leaving the Dursleys and he was so far removed from that time in his life that even the thought of entering the kitchen and cooking was no longer abhorrent to him. In truth, when he wasn’t being forced to cook, he actually liked it – taking raw ingredients and preparing them for presentation and consumption. One of the reasons he also liked Potions at school – and chemistry in primary. So, he had led his siblings into the kitchen, commandeered a workspace and set out the ingredients, showing his brother and sister how to mix the dough, roll it out and use the rolled-tin shapes to cut out the biscuits.

Callie had squealed with excitement as she identified the shapes of animals and card suits. The elves had helped by bringing out coloured sugar, sprinkles and little candied silver balls. Harry had also mixed up several batches of icing, using food colour to get the different shades. The children quickly filled up a baking sheet and Draco popped it into the oven setting a timer for twelve minutes as they continued to roll out dough and cut it into more shapes – all laughing merrily as they got covered in bits of dough and flour.

)O-O(

Narcissa wandered through the manor, wondering where her children were. The last she knew they’d been in the small parlour teaching games to Calista. She had checked on them once before retreating to the library to complete various bits of correspondence needing her attention. Handling all the reins of the Malfoy empire was a challenge, but she hadn’t been raised to just be a trophy-wife; she’d had all the same instruction that the boys were getting and had been expected to know how to run an elite household as well as a business operation should her husband ever pre-decease her or become incapable of maintaining the estate. Thank Merlin for that preparedness as it was coming in handy now!

She could, of course, summon Runeskin to tell her where her charges had disappeared to, but she needed the exercise that a constitutional around the hallways would give her. A check of their rooms showed that the expected purchases from Diagon Alley had arrived – stacks of books, robes and various and sundry school items lay ready to be put away in the trunks. Severus insisted that the boys do their own packing – not to rely on House-elves at every turn.  Calista’s nursery was also empty of children and Narcissa lingered a moment to straighten up some toys that lay scattered in a corner. She frowned a bit, the child was getting old enough to start putting her own toys away – she would have to begin enforcing that over the year while the boys were away at school.

She continued her walk through the halls, heading down to the main level where a delightful smell of baking met her nose. She followed the wafting scent to the kitchens where she stood at the entrance watching as all three decorated the now cooling racks of biscuits. They stood together, each boy on either side of their sister, admiring her ham-handed attempts at decorating. It appeared as if more sprinkles and sugar were decorating the table-top and her youngest than the sugar biscuits, but they were all having fun, their laughter and giggles brightening the rain-filled afternoon. 

“Is this a below sixteen activity or can I join in as well?” she asked, walking over to stand across from them. All three looked at her with wide, but delighted, eyes and Harry answered by shoving a plate of naked biscuits in her direction.

“The more the merrier!” he declared and she pulled on an apron that an elf summoned for her and joined in the fun, admiring her daughter’s attempts and getting creative in her own right.

“Should we make up a basket for your father?” she asked after all the biscuits were decorated and the suggestion was met with approval – so they chose the best of the bunch by all four of them and had an elf make up a basket of biscuits, teas, breads and jams while Runeskin said he would make sure that Severus had it in time for afternoon tea. Another box was made up that Callie insisted had to go to Hermione and an owl was soon carrying the gift towards London. The quartet cleaned up their space before Narcissa shooed them off to take baths, carrying a giggling Callie up to the nursery herself.

)O-O(

“Master Severus?” said Runeskin as he popped into the parlour of the Potions Master’s quarters. The basket he was holding was nearly as large as he was but he knew his master would enjoy the contents.

“In here, Runeskin,” came the reply through the open door to the private lab. The elf levitated the basket to the dining table before approaching the lab entrance.

“Your family has sent you your tea today,” the elf said, smirking. His master quirked an eyebrow in his direction before sending a stasis spell at the potion he was making and walking over to the elf.

“Have they, now? Well, let’s see what is in there.” He eyed the basket warily then folded the bright green linen cover back to reveal the contents. The just-baked scent of the biscuits wafted up to him and he grinned. A quickly penned note from Narcissa let him know that the children had baked these for him and all had participated in the activity. The cookies were still warm and soft to his questing finger.

“Hmm, there is too much here for me alone, and biscuits like these need to be appreciated when still warm. I believe I shall take my tea up in the teachers’ lounge today, Runeskin. Here,” he reached in and extracted a box of his favourite brand of loose tea, “take this up to the lounge and start a large pot, would you and I’ll follow with the basket.” The elf nodded and disappeared with a snap of air while Severus, still grinning from ear to ear, put away the rest of the boxes of tea and a few of the rest of the goodies for a late evening nosh before leaving his quarters and ascending the stairs that led to the lounge. All of the instructors were back and getting ready and he was one of the few that did not regularly use the lounge at teatime each day. They would get a surprise today!

)O-O(

Minerva walked into the lounge, admiring the smell of freshly baked biscuits and fragrant tea when she was surprised by the sight of Severus unpacking a large wicker basket and setting out plates upon plates of baked goods and accompanying comfits on the long table that presided over one section of the room. His elf, Runeskin, was puttering about the tea service making sure the sugar bowl and creamer were full.

“What is that delightful scent?” came an enquiry behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see Pomona Sprout sniffing the air appreciatively. The two women eased into the room as Severus vanished the empty basket with a wave of his hand and began filling a plate with a selection of the pastries.

“Ladies, come in! My family has provided tea for us this afternoon – freshly baked and still warm...” he said enticingly. He smirked as the women hustled over to the table and made their own selections, exclaiming over the decorated sugar biscuits.

“You can almost tell who decorated which ones, can’t you?” Minerva commented and Snape nodded.  Calista’s were quite obvious, messy and childishly lopsided. Draco’s and Narcissa’s were precise, colour correct for the shape depicted and quite neatly done. Harry’s were fanciful – with the mark of someone who was just having fun. All were equally delicious, he mused as he munched on a pink shamrock covered in green sugar crystals.

Soon, the table was surrounded by admiring teachers taking their afternoon break. The newest teacher, Bill Weasley, grabbed his plate and went to join Severus.

“I want to thank you, Severus, for suggesting me for the position. Remus told me it was your idea,” he clarified at the raised eyebrow.

“Did he explain the situation?” Severus asked.

Bill shook his head. “He said you’d explain before classes start.”

“Join me in my rooms tonight, I’ll explain everything then – there is much you need to understand that was discovered last term. It will affect how you structure your classes,” he suggested, keeping his voice low and intimate. He watched covertly as Dumbledore entered the room, eyeing the table of goodies. “I need to go – seven o’clock, my rooms,” he hissed at the younger man.

He flowed out of the room, waving off a call from Albus with a curt, “I have a potion brewing, Albus!” and strode back to his rooms.

)O-O(

Bill Weasley sat stunned on the loveseat, ignoring the glass of sherry in his hand and staring at his colleague. Severus had just finished explaining to him the revelations that had occurred the previous year concerning the Headmaster and his manipulations of Harry. While Bill had been raised in a family that revered Albus Dumbledore and all his accomplishments, he was not blind to the man’s faults. He had never agreed with the notion that the Wizarding world should pin their hopes on a teenager, and he’d taken classes with Trelawney – there was no way that anything pouring from her mouth would be considered prophetic. This should be a task for the adults – ones with years more experience. Granted, Harry was talented – one had only to watch him during the previous year’s competition to see that – but he was still just a teenager.

“You’re certain of all this?” he asked, incredulously.

“Absolutely. He views Harry as his ace up his sleeve. He doesn’t understand yet – or rather refuses to understand – that Harry has ceased trusting him. By hiring the defence professors that he has, he’s virtually guaranteed that most of the children will not be able to defend themselves when the time comes. That is where you and Nymphadora come in: you will each teach a year, followed by me during Harry’s seventh year, and in this way can we ensure that quality professors will be teaching the subject in a consistent manner while honouring the curse on the position. We can coordinate our lesson plans. Furthermore, we have been training many of the children – the elite in defence in all the years, as well as many that we feel are at risk – all summer and will continue to do so through the year.

“As you know, my sons already have a rigorous training schedule they follow – we intend to expand that and include those students we trained this summer and recruit more to our little ‘study group’.” He sketched quotes in the air with his fingers and Bill smirked from his seat, finally taking notice of his sherry glass again, indulging in a long sip and leaning back into the cushions.

“Well, you can count on me. I was looking through the syllabi left behind by the other professors. Remus and Moody seem to be the only ones who actually taught anything; Lockhart was a joke – how anyone passed their NEWTs and OWLs that year is beyond my comprehension. Quirrell’s lesson plans were adequate although simplified. When you take into account he was possessed at the time – it makes a bit of sense. I’m sure He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn’t want the children trained either, beyond what was absolutely necessary to maintain the facade of teaching the class.  At least between the three of us we can ensure the next three years are taught correctly.”

Severus was nodding along in agreement. “Exactly. It was Harry’s choice to remain here after the revelations this past spring; if it had been solely my decision we’d be in another country by now. The Headmaster has put him at risk too many times so we will have to ensure that he doesn’t try anything again.”

“You will also have an ally in Poppy’s new apprentice this year – Fleur Delacour,” Bill smirked. Severus raised his eyebrow.

“She stayed behind?”

“She’s decided to improve her English pronunciation.” He reddened and took a quick sip of his drink. Severus quirked his eyebrow higher.

“I’m sure,” he drawled. “Well, that is actually good news – another hidden ace in the hole. I have no idea what Dumbledore will attempt this year and we have the Dark Lord back... all we can do is prepare and keep our eyes open.” He held out his hand to his friend. “Welcome to the team,” he said.

Bill heartily shook the hand and finished the last little bit of sherry. “Thanks, Severus. We’ll keep him safe,” he promised. Severus nodded as he showed the younger man to the door.

“I appreciate it, William. Have a good evening,” he said in farewell.

“You as well.” He waved his goodbye and headed up the corridor, head bowed in contemplation.

)O-O(

Harry balled up another piece of parchment and threw it at the bin next to his desk. He wanted to get this letter done! Silicia hissed in sympathy from her preferred position around his neck. He reached up to give her head a stroke as he gazed out the open doors to his balcony watching as tiny puff clouds scuttled across the sky. How he wished he could be flying among them – but he had promised himself he would answer Dudley’s letter before he headed back to school and this was his last afternoon.

He grabbed another fresh piece of parchment and dipped his quill in the ink.

Dudley, (He had foregone adding “Dear” to the heading of the letter early on.)

It was a pleasant surprise to hear from you last week. I’m glad you are doing well in your new school and I’m thankful you understand everything now. I’ve actually been thinking that you probably hated me for everything that happened and felt you probably would’ve been right to feel that way.

I’ve asked around and no one seems to know what the Dementor was doing in Surrey. He wasn’t supposed to be there and you were very lucky your Auror was there to protect you. I had to learn that charm two years ago to keep those things away from me. We think that someone is either trying to hurt me by hurting you, or is trying to take you out in a mistaken bid to protect me from you. Crazy either way. My father and his friends are looking into it and when we find out who let it loose, I will let you know.

In the meantime, stay with your Aurors and don’t talk to anyone about me – other than your therapist. If it’s who I think it is, you can trust him. (Did he give you a notebook to write things in? Do it, it’s helpful.)

Things are getting even more dangerous for me – the man who killed my parents is back. I barely survived our latest encounter with him. Dad is training me all the time now – even the type of hand to hand combat you liked. My brother and I have all sorts of people training us. Oh, yeah, I have a brother and a little sister; Draco and Calista. Dad adopted Draco and will be marrying their mother in the future. She’s really nice and Calista is quite the little diva.

I’m heading back to school tomorrow. You can write to me there – my head of house, Professor McGonagall, will bring me the letters.

As to your last question: that is so much harder. I forgave you a long time ago, Dudley. You were only following your parent’s example. I understand that. But I cannot forget. We could have been so close, Dudley; we could have been brothers just like Draco and I are. He was my rival in school before that summer. He reminded me so much of you at that time. But we overcame that and in a lot of ways he is my closest companion.

I’d like to learn about you – what you like to do and so on. I’d like us to try again and be friends – if you are willing. We are blood relatives, Dudley; we are each other’s closest relative outside of our parent’s generation. We should be there for each other.

Let me know what you think.

Harry P-S.

Harry let out a huge sigh when it was completed. He blotted and folded it up to place in the return envelope to Dudley’s school and woke up Hedwig, handing her a treat to munch while he tied the letter to her leg.

“Take this to Whitney, girl. He’ll get it to Dudley discretely.” She gave him a little nibble on the knuckle that he was using to stroke her chest feathers then, with a blink of her eyes, shook her wings out and made to take off through the open door. “And head back to Hogwarts when you’re done!” Harry yelled out after her. She cheeped in reply as her strong wings took her high into the cloud strewn sky.

Harry watched as she became a tiny speck on the horizon then disappeared into the clouds. He turned around to find Draco leaning on his doorpost, Onyx relaxing in his arms.

“Finally wrote back?”

Harry shuffled over to start picking up his litter of crumpled starts, making sure they made it into the bin that gulped happily as each piece hit its gullet. “Yeah. Took me long enough, but I got it written. Looking forward to returning?” he asked with a grin.

Draco shrugged. “I suppose. This year is going to be dull though – no tournament!”

Harry snorted. “Nice and quiet is what I’m hoping for. Although, when have I ever had a quiet year?”

“True, little brother, tragically true.” He yelped and dropped his cat when he got a face full of pillow for his cheekiness. “This means WAR!” he roared and grabbed the pillow, launching it at his laughing brother.

Severus, knowing how his children loved pillow fights, had charmed all the bedroom pillows to not split, no matter what kind of force was applied. One time of feathers all over the dungeons was enough. Now the boys could wale at each other as much as they liked and no feathers would be scattered.

This particular fight managed to make it to the stairs where they encountered a wide-eyed Calista who was dragging a beloved stuffed rabbit behind her. Draco and Harry took one look at her, then at each other before taking off after her with her mock screaming and giggling at the same time as they ran to the other wing where her nursery was.

The three children barged into the playroom, tossing the pillows on the floor and tumbling after them, laughing all the while, red faced and eyes bright.

“Boys, have you packed yet?”

Harry and Draco froze, turning only their heads to view Narcissa standing above them tapping her foot.

“Erm, no?” Harry ventured.

“Speak for yourself, Harry – I finished hours ago,” Draco responded smugly.

“Bully for you!” Harry muttered as he rolled over and pushed himself upright, yanking his pillows out from under Draco, reclaiming them. The fact that Draco’s head bounced off the floor was just an added bonus.  “I’ll go pack now,” he sighed as he trudged out of the nursery.

“Draco, you could offer to help,” Narcissa chided.  Draco shook his head while rubbing the back of it ruefully.

“Dad won’t let me – besides, he’s had all day,” he pointed out. He sat up and leaned back against a small Calista-sized table, smiling as his little sister climbed into his lap, dragging her rabbit with her. He proceeded to start tickling the little girl with the rabbit; bouncing it all over her body and delighting in her giggles.

“What has he been doing instead?” Narcissa asked.

“Writing back to Dudley. He said it was harder than it looked.” He shrugged. “If all the wadded up pieces of parchment on his floor were any indication... Anyway, it got done and Hedwig is taking it to Whitney.”

“Whitney?”

“Our therapist. We think he’s helping Dursley, now.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised.

“Dad didn’t tell you? We saw him pretty regularly that first year and then off and on during third year. He was very helpful. Those charmed notebooks Harry and I write in? Those were his idea. We saw him again after the third task this spring.”

)O-O(

Draco woke to murmuring in the dungeon rooms. He thought Harry might be having nightmares again, so he got up to check on his brother but instead found the other bed empty, covers tossed back. Slipping on his dressing gown and sliding his feet into his slippers, he made his way to the bedroom door, quietly easing it open to see if he could hear better what was going on.

A soft, flickering light spilled down the hallway from the sitting room fireplace. He could just see Harry’s head peeking over the back of the sofa in profile and hear the murmuring of deeper male voices talking to him. He could tell by the way Harry was holding himself that he was jammed into a corner of the sofa, knees upright and shielding him from the world. He could identify the melodious tones of his father and it seemed as if the other might belong to Whitney.

Well, he could understand that. Whitney had been visiting that afternoon at their father’s behest, checking up on them after all they’d been through. He’d held individual and a group session after dinner. They’d all had a horrific time of it recently – Harry most of all. No wonder his brother had been having nightmares all week. As much as he wanted to go cry on Whitney’s shoulder as well concerning his father’s demise, he knew this was Harry’s time.

He eased the door closed and stopped at his desk on his way back to bed to grab his current journal and its ever-present biro. He would journal tonight – that always helped. Maybe it would give him enough perspective.

)O-O(

“No, he didn’t tell me – but I’m glad you have. I take it this therapist has helped?” she asked as she picked up the nursery, encouraging Calista to help her by handing her toys and directing the child to place them in their storage bins.

“Yes. I don’t think Harry or I would be as well-adjusted without him. Dad is great, don’t get me wrong, but Whitney could talk to us without getting all emotional about the situations we had been in. Dad would get angry on our behalf and want to go do something – when there was nothing he could do! Whitney gave us ways to cope and tools to see our way through the bitterness and anger we both felt.”

He played a bit with the corner of the throw-pillow in his lap before looking up at his mother. “They both helped me with my anger towards you,” he whispered.

Narcissa slowly turned around and walked back over to where her son still sat on the floor. Summoning a low hassock to sit on, she reached out to tilt his face up to where he looked her in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Draco, that I had to treat you that way. It was the only way I could see to save you – oddly enough.” She sighed, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. “I had to take the heat off of you, don’t you see? I had to do things for you where he wouldn’t notice them...”

“I know that now – but for a time I was extremely angry at you for letting him treat me that way. But dad set me to rights and Whitney helped a lot as well. I don’t feel that way anymore – haven’t for quite a while.” He smiled up at her and leaned forward to give her a peck on her cheek. “I better go check on Harry – just because I can’t help doesn’t mean I can’t supervise and sometimes he can be a bit scatterbrained!” He grinned mischievously and stood up to head out the door.