Remus couldn’t look Albus in the eye as he spoke. He felt like a student again, having failed in his duties as prefect to keep his friends from misbehaving. Except this was much worse. He felt lower than the dirt on the soles of his shoes. Being fired didn’t cover it—he wouldn’t be surprised if Albus throttled him on the spot.

There was a long silence after he had finished speaking. He didn’t dare look up.

“I see,” Albus finally said. Remus continued staring at his shabby shoes. “May I ask why you have chosen now to tell me this?”

There was no direct accusation in his voice, but Remus could hear the disappointment and almost wished Albus would yell at him. Curse him, punch him, anything …

“I had a—a—discussion with Severus,” he mumbled. “The contents were in confidence, but—something he said—made me—face what I—what I might have done by not telling anyone.”

Another silence. “I will, of course, have to pass this information onto the Ministry of Magic,” Albus said finally. “And the Dementors. As well as the rest of the staff.” There was a pause. “I will, however, keep your name out of it.”

Remus was so surprised, he looked up. “Th-thank you, Professor,” he stammered, flushing an even deeper red and slipping back into formal terms such as he hadn’t used since he was a student.

Albus’ expression was unreadable. “I need hardly tell you that you did a very foolish thing, Remus; or that you let me down.”

“I know,” Remus whispered, dropping his eyes again.

“I do realise how difficult it must have been to admit to; and I rather think that you understand just how much you risked, not just with your actions back then, but by keeping this information to yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Remus whispered.

“You will have to live with that. I believe that is punishment enough.” Albus paused. “We shall say no more about it.”

Remus choked up. It was far more than he deserved.

-

“Enter.”

A quivering wreck entered the throne room. King Luesson frowned as one of his servants approached timidly, his heart sinking. He didn’t know the man’s name. He didn’t care.

“You bring bad news.”

“P-please, your majesty,” the servant squeaked, dropping to his knees at Luesson’s feet. “Mercy …”

“Stop grovelling and speak.”

Still bowing, the servant said, “The Royal Guards send word that they have searched the whole city, and the Seer has not been found.”

Luesson scowled further. “Then they need to search further afield! She could ruin everything!”

“They are, sire!” the servant squeaked. “B-b-b-but—”

“What?”

The servant swallowed. “The riots have started again. They’re having trouble getting through—”

“Then send out the Ethequies!”

“S-s-sire, last time y-you did that n-nearly a h-hundred people died.”

“Are you questioning my orders, servant?”

“N-no my king!”

“Good,” Luesson said. “Bring them to me.”

“Yes sire.” The servant scrambled to his feet and hurried from the room.

Imbeciles. Luesson shifted uneasily in his throne. So far he had managed to keep a lid on the information that he had a potential rival for the throne, but it was only a matter of time. If his Seer spread the word, he would be in big trouble. He was no stranger to the fact that he was heavily disliked as a ruler. Especially since he had tightened up the security. Malfoy had better kill the little brat soon …

“Your majesty?”

Luesson shook himself and realised another servant had entered, carrying his customary elevenses—a goblet of wine and a plate of chilli scones. “About time too,” he said and took them.

It was astonishing what one teenage boy had done to him … He was so anxious about losing his position, he was unable to properly enjoy the comforts and power that made it so desirable.

The first servant re-entered, still shaking like a leaf, and carrying a large wooden box as if it might explode.

“Well, open it,” Luesson snapped.

He did. Inside were about fifty figurines, carved into the rough shapes of dragons’ reptilian forms, but made out of ice.

Luesson drew his wand as the servants backed away nervously. The first figure began growing until it was a full-size dragon, and life was breathed into its icy form. It thrashed its tail, stretched its wings, bared its teeth, and its eyes glowed pure white. The floor where it stood began to ice over. Luesson sent it out into the city, and then turned to the next one.

Once all Ethequies had been released, Luesson drew his sword. The servant whimpered slightly, staring at its jagged edge.

“Now where were we … Oh yes. I do believe you were questioning me.”

“N-no, my king! Never!”

“It sounded like that to me. Remind me of your oath, servant.”

Luesson watched the servant carefully as, shaking worse than ever, he recited, “I pledge myself to the rightful monarch of North Wyverna—”

With lightning speed, Luesson slashed. The servant didn’t even have time to flinch. His head fell to the floor and rolled around for a moment before stopping at Luesson’s feet. The body crumpled.

Rightful monarch. Luesson knew full well what that meant. He had read on the servant’s face that he did not consider Luesson to be as such. He couldn’t afford to have anyone in his palace thinking that way, not now.

“Get this mess cleared up,” he said to the other servant, who was still staring at the body in shock. Luesson didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if this had been the first occurrence of its kind.

As the servant hurried to remove the body and clear up the pool of blood, Luesson settled back in his throne and picked up his wine.

-

“Professor Lupin?”

Harry pushed the office door open tentatively. Lupin was inside, and smiled when he saw him.

“Hello, Harry. Something on your mind, I take it?”

“Um … yeah you could say that. Is now a bad time to talk?”

“No, no; come in.”

He closed the office door behind him, cast the silencing charm that Snape had taught him, sat down on the chair in front of Lupin’s desk, and without hesitation it all began spilling out. As Harry talked he got the impression that Lupin had been expecting him, but that the sheer weirdness of it all was a shock.

“So … let me see if I’ve got this,” Lupin said slowly once Harry had finished. “Dragons are actually like … like wizards but can turn into giant reptiles.”

“Yes.”

“And Lily was one.”

“Yes.”

“And royal.”

“Yes.”

“Which makes you a prince.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why there’s a dragon that can turn invisible—”

“Lucius Malfoy.”

“—also trying to kill you, because her brother wants the throne for himself.”

“Yep.”

“My goodness, no wonder you needed to talk to someone about it. That’s a lot to process for anyone, especially …”

“On top of finding out my dad wasn’t my dad and my real one’s a spy who pretends to hate me, and that my mum and not-dad’s best friend turned them over to Voldemort,” Harry said. “Yeah, it is.”

Lupin exhaled sharply. “Um … how are … how are you faring at that?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. I think it’s … sinking in. And Snape’s been … well, I think he’s been trying to help me deal with it. He hasn’t insulted me in class in a while.”

Judging from Lupin’s expression, he didn’t know what to make of that statement.

-

Sunday morning, Harry gave his friends the slip—he mused he was becoming quite good at it—and headed for Snape’s quarters.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. This would be the first time he was actually, properly, spending time with his father for no reason other than the fact that he was invited. Harry was so nervous, he realised after he had arrived outside Snape’s office that it was only ten AM—far too early for lunch. Snape might not even be up yet—was he a late sleeper? How on earth was Harry supposed to know?

Well, he was here now. Harry knocked on the door.

It took a minute or two to open. “I’m not too early am I?” Harry blurted out as soon as it did so. Snape didn’t look too surprised, or annoyed, and he was dressed, which was a good sign.

“Don’t be silly, you’re welcome any time.” Harry felt a warm glow at the words as Snape stepped back and let him in. “Actually I was rather hoping you would be here earlier rather than later.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons.” Snape shut the door. “One, we get to spend more time together. Also, I was a bit unsure what you would like to eat. We could have the house-elves’ usual Sunday roast, or if you like I could make us something spicier?”

Harry grinned. “Spicier sounds good. I love spicy food.”

“I thought you probably would. It’s a dragon thing. What would you say to your mother’s favourite?”

“Definitely!”

-

Although Harry had looked nervous at first, he seemed to relax after a while. Severus was relieved; he himself had been incredibly nervous, although he’d done his best to hide it, and seeing that Harry was as well had just made things worse. But now Harry was relaxed, the tension was leaving him too.

Harry turned a page. Severus had dug out all of his and Lily’s photo albums and laid them across the table for him to peruse as he liked. “I like this one. When was it taken?”

Severus gazed at it thoughtfully. “Just before you were one, I think. You were learning animal sounds and thought ducks sounded incredibly funny. You giggled every time Lily said ‘quack’. So we took you out to see some real ones.”

The photograph was one of Severus’ favourites. Lily was kneeling on a picnic blanket with Harry in front of her, trying to encourage him to throw a piece of bread into the duck pond. He was giggling at the water fowl who were waddling up the bank towards them, and Lily was smiling broadly as well.

There was a distinct bite taken out of the piece of bread in his hand and crumbs down his top.

Harry grinned. “Did I eat all the bread?”