Wiping the sleepers from his eyes, the now thirteen-year-old rolled to his side with a groan and cast aside his bed sheet before he pushed himself up off his bed to stand. It felt as if his parents, grandparents, and he had lived in the small cottage in Cokeworth forever now. Well, actually, his grandparents didn't live with them anymore. They had moved out a few weeks back to their house on Spinner's End, claiming that his parents and he needed their space. Whatever that meant.

Stretching to the ceiling, he turned a moment later and smiled towards his snowy owl.

"Morning, Hedwig." He grabbed one of her treats from the nightstand and held it out to her to eat before he moved towards the door. Plucking his discarded t-shirt from the floor, he threw it on and then headed out of his room. The sunlight was just peeking through the heavy curtains.

He heard soft sounds of someone speaking from the master bedroom, which gave him pause for half a moment, before he continued on. His parents were up. Good.

Entering the kitchen, the young boy quickly picked up a frying pan and set off to cooking their breakfast. He knew his father would likely comment on it later, but cooking them breakfast was the least he could do. After all, he had cooked breakfast for his aunt and uncle for years, ever since he could walk in fact. At least, that was how long it felt to the young boy.

He cracked the first egg into the pan, and then the second. Thirteen years old and he had already mastered the art of cooking. A laugh quietly fell from his lips at that thought. Who would have thought living with the horrid Dursleys would have had some positive benefits?

As he flipped the cooked bacon in another pan a few minutes later, he heard the master bedroom door creak open. He glanced into one of the reflective pans and saw his father approaching slowly.

"Morning, Dad," the young boy murmured, making his father a plate.

"Harry," his father started to say before he sighed quietly. "You don't need to keep making breakfast. I can cook. I am a Potions master after all."

Harry laughed and held the plate out to his father. "I know. You just were busy, Dad." His eyes then darted to the master bedroom. "Should I make a plate for Mum, too?" The teenager caught his father's sudden pained look instantly, which resulted in his own. He knew his dad's look wasn't because she wasn't really Harry's biological mother. No, it clearly referred to what kind of day she was having.

"No. Not right now," his father replied, leaning against a nearby wall while he ate. The tall, dark-haired man kept the master bedroom door in his sight and one ear towards it at all times, Harry noticed. The teenager wasn't certain if that was the teacher in his dad or the fierce protector coming out, though. "This is excellent, Harry. Thank you," his father declared after taking a few bites.

Harry only nodded, though. When he saw his father's attention once again return to the master bedroom door at the far end of the hallway, he closed his eyes. He wasn't naïve. He understood things known would be different now. He had even told his father that at the beginning of the summer. But he hadn't known then just how different everything would be now.

The three of them were broken. Shattered into jagged little pieces of hurt now, thanks to last year's events. Once they were happy, a family even. Harry knew they still were underneath it all, but the pain and fear had taken them prisoner and locked them up in their own individual cells.

"Harry?"

The young boy inhaled sharply the moment he heard his father's voice. Wiping at the stray tears that he hadn't known had fallen, he glanced at his dad.

Without another word spoken, his father pulled the young boy into his arms and hugged him. Harry couldn't keep his emotions in check any longer. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be better now. Happier at least. It wasn't fair. Hadn't they suffered enough?

"Listen to me, son. It'll get better. Trust me. It will," his father quietly spoke.

"When?" Harry cried softly.

"I don't know. But it will, Harry. You taught me that. You and Aurora. It will get better. We just have to be patient." His father then sighed heavily before he hugged Harry even tighter for a moment. "I've been so lost in me that I've lost sight of you this past summer. I-I'm sorry, Harry. I—"

"It's okay. Really. It is," the thirteen-year-old replied, sniffling. "I understand."

"But you shouldn't have to. That's the point. You're a child, Harry. My son."

Harry felt his stomach start to roll nervously. There was something off in his dad's tone. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he knew whatever it was wasn't going to be good.

"You shouldn't have been subjected to this pain, to this hurt . . ." His dad sighed heavily again.

The young boy's eyes narrowed in confusion. What was his dad trying to say exactly? That they should have abandoned his mum? Given up on her? That couldn't be it, could it? "But we love her, Dad," Harry stated fiercely, pulling back from his father with a hurt look on his face. "We can't just abandon her. Not when she didn't abandon us."

"I'm not suggesting we do," his father argued, sighing again. "You deserve to be in a nurturing environment, one that allows you to play, to have fun, to be a boy, Harry. All this summer, though, you've been the opposite. You've been trying to keep me together . . . to keep all of us together. That's not your responsibility, though. Do you understand? That's mine, Harry. I am responsible for you, and I've been failing spectacularly at it this summer." He then scoffed, shaking his head. "We didn't even celebrate your birthday properly this year for Merlin's sake."

Harry shrugged, though. "So? I had cake with you, Mum, Grandmum, and Grandpa, Dad. That was good enough for me. It was. So, you know, don't be so hard on yourself." He forced a pained smile to his face. "Mum wouldn't like that. Not one bit, and you know it."

His dad started to sigh again before loud piercing screams erupted from the master bedroom and stopped him. Harry and his dad took off instantly, sprinting down the hallway and into the room. Harry had reached the bedroom first, but his dad quickly pulled him back before he stepped protectively in front of the teenager.

"Aurora! Aurora, it's okay," his dad shouted with his hands up as he approached the screaming woman who was trying desperately to free herself from the bedsheets that had tangled around her tightly. "You're safe. You're safe, Aurora," he repeated, his voice firm and direct.

"Wrong. All wrong," she shouted, finally breaking free of her temporary prison before bringing her legs up to her chest and rocking back and forth holding her head in her hands. "It's all WRONG!" she shouted, her fists slamming hard against the mattress a moment later.

Having seen her on bad days before, Harry kept his distance and looked on helplessly. Once more, the young boy found himself wishing there was a spell that could make everything right again. As her shouts soon turned into uncontrollable sobs, he tensed and closed his eyes. He didn't need to see his father to know he was holding her. Harry had seen his dad do that many times this past summer.

As her sobs started to quiet, Harry drew in a slow, shuddering breath. It may not have been the right thing to do, having Harry be around while his mum struggled with her pain, but there was no way Harry would leave her. Not after all she had done for them. She deserved better. He walked over to where his parents were and joined them a few moments afterwards, his arms quickly wrapping around her midsection.

The teenager felt her start to relax slightly the moment he did this, knowing that another episode had finished. He kept holding her, though, as the tears once more streaked his cheeks. Even though he knew it wasn't his fault in the slightest what had happened to her, he felt so guilty inside.

A couple hours after the cottage became calm once more, Severus found himself sitting in an armchair with his hands covering his face. He could hear Aurora in a nearby room calmly answering Madam Pomfrey's questions as the matron examined her for any changes from the last visit. As he continued to wait, he found himself quickly becoming torn between barging in to ask Pomfrey what the hell was going on with Aurora and sitting there as he was currently doing. Post-traumatic stress disorder was one thing. But this, whatever this was, was something entirely different. There was more to Aurora's current state of mind than just PTSD affecting her. There had to be.

It was the only explanation he could come up with to explain her recent behavior. More times than he would care to admit in fact, he had found Aurora mumbling to herself in a corner, speaking as if someone else was there in the room with her. Not to mention the days when she seemed completely out of it, staring off into space for hours on end. The days where she was alert were becoming rather rare these days, which he had promptly informed Pomfrey of after realizing it.

Frowning, he let his hands drop to his side once more. There was no indication in the matron's tone that she was concerned with Aurora's progress at all. In fact, their conversation seemed rather normal to him.

There was the first question of if Aurora had noticed any changes, which she had answered with a no. Severus would set the matron straight later and give her the list of everything he had noticed. Next was the obligatory question if Aurora had been practicing since they had last spoken. Which she had, he'd admit. Then was her proving that she had by showing her progress to Pomfrey.

He leaned forward slightly and glanced towards the slightly cracked open door. He could just make out Aurora as she moved about the room, leaning heavily on the assisting bar she was to use. Her walking had improved somewhat. But she was still shaky as a newborn calf.

He closed his eyes when he heard Aurora's huff of frustration at something filter out a moment later. Pomfrey had quickly waved off her frustration, though, telling her it was good effort and better luck next time. Severus didn't even need to use his mental link with Aurora to know that Pomfrey's words had stung. Effort meant nothing if it didn't lead to her getting her life back to what it was before she was kidnapped. How many times had he heard her yell that at him anyway? More times than necessary, clearly.

"Well, it seems you're healing quite nicely, Aurora," Pomfrey stated louder than necessary. "A little shaky still with the walking, but that'll come with time again."

Severus leaned back into his armchair with a silent sigh. The formal physiotherapy would be coming to an end now. A part of him was glad to hear that, but another part was far from it. Something was wrong with Aurora. Something he couldn't put his finger on, but he knew it deep down. The kidnapping had changed her. More than just mentally and physically. There was something else. He had hoped that Pomfrey would see it as well during her sessions with Aurora.

"I don't suppose you've had a chance to decide which healer you want to continue with."

"Not really," he heard Aurora reply.

"I see."

"I get it, Poppy. I do. I'm messed up now. I just . . . what good is some git messing around in my head going to do me? I mean, isn't the whole point of this therapy thing to make it so I learn how to cope properly?"

"Yes. Part of it. The bigger part is to remove the power behind the memories. To give you more control, Aurora."

He heard the loud scoff Aurora had returned and let his head fall back against the armchair, closing his eyes. Here it came.

"A simple Obliviate would give me more control, too. But, of course, all of you are against that," Aurora replied nastily.

"It would do more harm than good, Aurora."

"Says you."

"Yes, says me!" Pomfrey snapped back, her patience having suddenly grown thin.

As the silence settled once more onto the cottage, Severus found himself looking out another window. Seeing Harry out in the front yard, he watched the young boy, laughing and looking genuinely happy, playing with a scruffy dog. For a brief moment, Severus wondered whose dog that was before he shrugged it off, assuming it belonged to Mrs. Andrews, the neighbor lady. She always took in stray dogs for some reason.

"Severus?"

He jumped slightly at the unexpected interruption. He glanced upwards and noticed Pomfrey looking down at him with a concerned frown. When had she moved?

"Yes?" he replied.

"There was something you wanted to talk to me about earlier?" she reminded.

His eyes darted to where Pomfrey had been examining Aurora and found that Aurora had left as well. He sighed and shook his head. It wouldn't do any good anyway.

"Well, if you remember what it was, don't hesitate to owl me. All right?" Pomfrey gave him a warm smile before she gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "By the way, I heard you've decided to return to teaching this term. That's good, Severus. Getting down a pattern will help. Not to mention, the benefits it'll have for young Harry as well."

He nodded slowly. He hadn't thought of that truthfully. In fact, the only reason he had decided to return was because his dad had helped him realize he would need a paycheck. Things didn't come for free after all.

"You'll continue her treatment at Hogwarts, then?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head, though. "No. I finally managed to get her choose another healer. Which, I assure you, is like pulling teeth." She smiled faintly. "There is only so much I can do for her, though, Severus, and we've reached that limit unfortunately. What she needs now is someone more specialized in these cases. And the healer she chose, well, he's the best of the best. His methods are a bit—shall we say—unorthodox, but they work."

"You know this healer then?"

"Only by reputation, I'm afraid," she answered. "But he's good, Severus."

They needed good. Actually, they needed better than good, but he knew Pomfrey's so-called good was very high praise for this healer. The unorthodox bit gave him a bit of a pause, though. It could go so badly, undoing all of Aurora's progress in one shot. But he supposed this healer knew what he was doing and would make sure that didn't happen. Hopefully.

"I'll send him an owl once I return to Hogwarts. If he does what he usually does, then you should receive a response from him later today."

Severus nodded again. He'd look for the owl later then. He stood as she started head for the Floo. As he watched her get closer to the fireplace, he found himself struggling to remain quiet. It wouldn't do any good, he knew, but he needed to know.

"Madam?" He watched her pause and glance at him. Sighing inwardly, he lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "In your opinion, all of the symptoms she's exhibiting currently . . . do you still believe it is PTSD?" He noticed Pomfrey's lips press tighter together briefly before she answered.

"Severus," she started to say before she glanced down. "She went through unspeakable trauma. I'd be more worried actually if it hadn't affected her mentally. Just give it time."

Time. That was becoming to be his old friend. He watched Pomfrey leave then, the green flames taking her away from the cottage not long after. With a sigh, he shook his head. She hadn't answered his question at all. Like a politician, she had skirted around it. Perhaps Mister Unorthodox Healer would tell him the truth, though. He could only hope after all.

As his dad read the message that had showed up by owl late afternoon, Harry sat on the sofa next to his mum watching the television. The young boy still found it funny that his dad had such a thing. Who would have thought it after all? Though, knowing his dad better than anyone else did, he guessed he shouldn't have been surprised. The man was after all a huge nerd. A closet one, but still his dad was a nerd. Harry glanced towards his dad's room, biting his bottom lip. He wondered if his dad would mind if he read one of his dad's old comic books. Probably not.

Reaching to his left, the young boy grabbed the Daily Prophet from beside him and glanced at the front page. A sudden surge of hatred bubbled up inside him the moment he saw the former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge's face. He skimmed the paper, knowing full well that it had upset his father earlier in the day when his dad had read it. As he read the article, Harry quickly understood why now. Fudge was getting away with murder. Well, not quite getting away with all of it. But he wasn't being put to death like he deserved. Instead, Fudge was getting a cell in Azkaban. All the good that did. Though, Harry quickly remembered his father telling himself that it did have some good, as it made it so Aurora wouldn't have to testify now. But that didn't seem good enough to Harry. Fudge deserved more. An eye for an eye and all that.

"This just in!" a voice suddenly announced from the television. Loud chimes then erupted as a breaking news banner suddenly appeared on the screen. The reporter appeared frazzled and panicked for some reason before he continued, his voice squeaking slightly. "The authorities are asking for the public to be on the lookout for an escaped convict named Sirius Black, pictured here on the screen. Black is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see him, do not approach him. Instead, contact the authorities immediately at the number listed below. Once again, be on the lookout for—"

Harry heard a clunk from where his father was standing and glanced at him, noticing his dad's shock. However, before he could ask his father how he knew the crazy-looking man, his mum spoke after hours of silence.

"Sirius . . ." she whispered, her eyes glued to the television.

"Wait. You guys know this guy?" Harry asked, looking from his mum to his dad. He then frowned slightly as the name echoed in his mind. Sirius? That sounded strangely familiar to him as well.

"Unfortunately," his dad replied, his jaw clenched and his eyes in slits focused on the screen. "He was a classmate of mine at Hogwarts."

Harry then blinked before his frown deepened. Why was this guy so familiar to him? He could almost . . . it was right there on the tip of his tongue. He knew this crazy guy as well. At least he had heard the name Sirius before. Somewhere. But where?

Noticing Harry's obvious confusion, his dad continued. "James had made him your godfather at one point, but your mother had removed his guardianship as soon as she could to give it to her sister. You read this in her letter to me. That's why the name is familiar. Because Lily mentioned him."

"I don't hate her," his mum stated out of the blue, clearly carrying on a conversation with someone only she saw. Both of them stared at her in confusion. "I just don't care for her."

"Mum?" Harry softly said, glancing nervously at his dad who looked on in obvious concern. Usually when she was talking to herself, not other people. This was new . . . and scary. "Who are you talking to?" When he caught the sudden shift in her mood and saw the look of intense hatred on her face, the young boy tensed, as if expecting a slap.

"Absolutely not!" she snarled, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen her before. "I will never forgive her, Black!"

Harry caught his father's flinch at the mentioning of Sirius Black and reached towards her to shake her out of her hallucination. His dad, however, grabbed his hands before he could do this.

"No, Harry," his dad stated with a shake of his head.

"But she's imagining things!" The thirteen-year-old was at a loss. Why wasn't his dad letting him help? He could. He, after all, had shook his cousin Dudley awake once after he caught Dudley almost sleepwalking himself right out the window. He may have not liked Dudley, but that didn't mean he wanted his cousin dead either.

"I couldn't give a damn about that!" she snapped.

"No, son. I don't think it's that," his dad argued, his frown deepening as he observed.

"What she did . . ." Her jaw clenched tightly before she quickly turned away. "It's unforgivable." She then turned her head slightly. The anger from before vanished and was replaced with worry. Her hand moved to reach for something, as if she was grabbing someone's arm to stop them. "No." Her nervousness and worry then increased. "Is something wrong with the baby? Is it okay? I . . ." As her head fell back, so did her eyes before she started to shake uncontrollably.

Harry gasped instantly. What was happening? He watched his father leap into action, shoving the table in front of the sofa to the side so she didn't fall into it as she slowly fell to the floor. His dad grabbed a pillow then from the sofa, putting it under his mum's head.

"Should I get Pomfrey?" Harry could hear the panic in his voice as his heart raced. What was going on? Why was she shaking like that? She seemed almost . . . possessed. "Dad, should I get Pomfrey?" he repeated, his voice breaking as his emotions got the better of him.

"Yes," his father finally answered, an edge to his voice as well.

Harry sprinted to the mantel and grabbed a handful of Floo powder soon after, tossing it in and calling out for Pomfrey's office. The moment he saw the matron's face, he knew that she knew why he had Firecalled. He hadn't even need to say a word.

"Move away, Mr. Potter. I'm coming through," Madam Pomfrey announced briskly. Sure enough, as soon as the young boy moved to the side, the matron stepped through and quickly strode over to where his dad was knelling beside his mum.

Harry's arms wrapped tightly around himself protectively. It seemed as if his mum had stopped shaking. Thank Merlin and everyone above.

"Let's move her onto her side slowly," suggested the matron, moving his mum's arm to make it look as if she was just taking a nap now on the ground. As soon as they had moved her into position, Pomfrey glanced at his father. "Has she had multiple seizures?"

"No. It was just that one."

The matron nodded slowly, turning and reaching into her bag for something. When she pulled out a potion a moment later, she pulled the cork out and motioned for Severus to lift her head up. She slowly poured the thick purple liquid into Aurora's mouth, massaging her throat to force the younger woman to swallow it.

"Then let's hope it's her last," Pomfrey mumbled, vanishing the empty bottle a moment later. They watched Aurora rest for a few moments in silence. Harry kept chewing on his bottom lip as they waited for something. "She's going to be disoriented when she wakes up."

"She was before, though," Harry revealed, catching his dad's sharp look.

"I'm sorry?" Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrowed on him. "What do you mean, Mr. Potter?"

"Uh, well, it's just before she started shaking, she was, um . . ." He scratched the back of his neck, glancing down at the floor guiltily.

"She seemed to be recalling a memory of hers," his father finished saying for him. "As if she was reliving it all over again."

"I see." The matron sighed softly. "Do you know which memory it was, Severus?"

"She mentioned something about a baby," Harry piped up, his eyes quickly darting back to the floor when his father glared at him.

"It was triggered, I believe, after seeing the news report on Black," his father said shortly after. "She mentioned his name at one point in fact."

"Then it was the second pregnancy," Pomfrey said quietly.

"Huh?" Harry blinked, unable to stop himself from speaking. "Mum's been pregnant before?"

"Harry," his father rebuked, frowning at him.

The young boy, however, brushed off his father. "So, she was pregnant when she was taken."

"Harry!"

"No, Mr. Potter. She was not," replied Madam Pomfrey with a sigh. "I found no evidence to suggest otherwise." She then turned back to Harry's dad, avoiding his eyes as she spoke. "Her mind could be reverting back—"

"That's not it," his father argued, his eyes narrowing on the matron for a moment. "You knew this was going to happen." She opened her mouth to argue, but he pushed on. "Perhaps not a seizure, but you knew something was going to happen," he declared, his eyes darkening slightly as a look of betrayal crossed his face. "You've been lying to us this whole time."

"No, Severus. I have not been lying. She is healing." She sighed. "Just, well, I found some odd readings the other day when I examined her, but I didn't have all the pieces to tell you my suspicions."

"And now?" His dad folded his arms threateningly.

Pomfrey closed her eyes. "The seizure plus the reliving her memory with the readings I found earlier confirmed my fear."

"Which is?"

"We were wrong, Severus." Pomfrey held his gaze. "It wasn't just the Horcrux affecting her as Syra and I had believed. The sickness must have become dormant for a bit for some reason, but as she's getting stronger, I'm finding more and more evidence of her illness of last year returning."

"But Dad did the whole bonding thing with her, though," Harry cut in.

"I'm aware of that, Mr. Potter. And if it wasn't for that, she'd be even sicker. Whatever this disease, illness, thing is, it is affecting every part of her. I had hoped I was wrong. That all of her symptoms could be explained away as remnants of her severe trauma. But last year she had a seizure in the summer that was exactly like this one today, Severus. Her father reported her reliving a memory, just as you had, prior to that seizure. Thankfully, she's still responding to potions, so we can relieve some of her symptoms. But, Severus, I've never seen anything like this before. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but it's mutated by my estimates. I can't make sense of it now. Nor can Syra."

Harry grabbed his mum's hand and rubbed it tenderly. They wouldn't lose her. Not again. Whatever it was, they'd beat it. They would be a family, his family. They'd get their happy ending.