An oddly comfortable quiet settled over Harry’s room as he and Hermione ate the dinner Arabella had brought them, both occupied by their own thoughts. Hermione finished her meal quickly and took her plate and placed it on the tray outside the door. She looked back at him for a minute and at the two books that rested on the bed waiting for her. He could see her curiosity warring with her apprehension as she stood there and felt a bit disappointed at the indication of the distance that obviously existed between them. He was beginning to really feel the absences of their friendship and he really missed it. He wished he knew how to make everything right again.

“I’ll be right back,” she said suddenly then turned and disappeared out the door, closing it behind her.

For a moment, Harry simply stared at the door then, with a resigned sigh, he climbed off his bed and carried his plate to the tray. Deciding he felt grimy and wanting to change into something a bit more comfortable, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from his trunk and headed to his bathroom to shower and change. When he opened the bathroom door and walked into his room, he found that Hermione had a similar idea.

She was sitting comfortably on his bed wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt. She was leaning against two spring green pillows with ruffled edges that were definitely not from “his” room. The journal Severus had given her that detailed the spells placed on him was open in her lap. She glanced up briefly, acknowledging him with a small smile.

“Ron and Ginny had to leave. Their parents wanted them home and Dumbledore thought it safest, just in case the ministry is watching.” She spoke quietly with a tentative quality in her voice. “They wanted to wait and say good-bye, but Mrs. Weasley was rather insistent.”

“Okay, thanks for telling me,” he responded cautiously. Climbing on to his side of the bed, he propped his pillows against the headboard like Hermione had done and leaned back, shifting until he was comfortable. He began flipping through the pages of the album looking briefly at each picture until one page caught his attention. It was the page that contained several photos from what he guessed was his christening. The first picture on the page was supposed to be of the proud parents. His mom and dad smiled and waved up from the picture as if life was perfect and they had a perfect family. Looking at the smiling image of a man he had thought of as “Dad” for his entire life, it was odd to think that until he was 11, he hadn’t even remembered what his father was supposed to look like. He had loved the man simply because he had thought of him as his father. Now he knew that wasn’t the truth and it grieved him.

The next picture featured younger, more carefree versions of Arabella and Sirius. In the picture, Sirius had Harry cradled, sleeping peacefully, in his arms. His expression was full of happiness and untouched by the ravages of Azkaban. Harry wondered how different this man was from the one he was just beginning to know. Turning the page, he stared down at a picture of himself being held by Arabella with Snape standing behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist. Snape had his hand extended over him in the picture and he wore a much softer expression than any Harry had ever seen on his face. Taking a closer look, he saw that his baby fist was curled around one of Snape’s fingers. Snape’s thumb brushed over the tiny hand, caressing it gently. Harry stared at the picture a long time, an odd feeling in his chest, before turning to the next page.

Based on the fact that all the adults in the picture were dressed in the same robes they had worn in the earlier pictures suggested that this one was taken on same day, but the location was different and unfamiliar to him. His father, Severus, sat under a large tree with Harry settled a bit awkwardly in the crock of his arm. One finger of his free hand was, again, held tightly in the grasp of the small boy’s fist. Harry knew if he inspected the picture more closely, he would be able to make out the man’s lips moving as he talked softly. He was struck by the opposing emotions of hope and disbelief. He was still having trouble reconciling the tender image portrayed in the pictures with the greasy git that tormented him at school, even after seeing for himself the gentler side of the man. He was so caught up contemplating his father that he almost missed Arabella and his Dad ­ James ­ in the background, watching the scene and leaning against each other for support, both wearing bitter-sweet smiles. As he stared at the picture, he felt a similar emotion overtake him and found himself identifying with his Dad and Arabella and loving them all the more. These two people, with no blood-ties to him, had sacrificed so much to protect him.

“Harry?” Hermione’s hesitant voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’m sorry for being so rude to you these past weeks.” She paused for a moment, giving Harry enough time to look up at her before she continued in a rush, “I was just so hurt and scared and I took it out on you and that wasn’t fair. I know it isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault but Voldemort’s.” The room was quiet for a moment. Harry wasn’t sure what to say; a part of him did feel responsible for what had happened to her family. Hermione looked at him then and must have seen the guilt in his eyes. She smiled sadly at him, “Really, Harry. There was nothing you could have done. I don’t blame you; please don’t blame yourself. Not for this.”

Harry saw something flash behind her eyes then and suddenly understood, “Alright, I promise to try and let go of my guilt, if you try to let go of yours.” He watched as she looked away sheepishly. He could see how her body shock slightly as she inhaled and nearly panicked when he realized she had begun to cry. Warily, he slid closer to her and gently pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do or not, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment. He was alarmed when Hermione’s sobs became harsher, but she grabbed onto him as she cried, making it impossible for him to pull away. Awkwardly, he tried rubbing her back, as Arabella had done for him.

“I should have been there,” she cried harshly against his shoulder.

A sudden cold terror exploded in his heart at her words. “No,” he said adamantly, his arms wrapping tightly around her. The thought of losing her on top of everything else was too much for him to deal with. “Don’t ever say that, or even think it. You’d be dead, too and I don’t think I could have handled you dying, not after everything else that’s happened this year. Please don’t even think it, Hermione.” His voice was thick and it was hard for him to form the words with his throat constricted by the grief that her words had evoked. He felt her hands release their hold on his shirt and her arms move around to embrace him. Her tears did not diminish, but he could fell her start to relax, so he kept talking to her. “I know what it feels like Hermione; like there should have been more that you could do, but there wasn’t. They were fully trained Death Eaters and I am grateful you were able to escape.”

He continued to talk and comfort her until both his and her tears finally stopped. When she finally pulled away, she laughed softly, gesturing at their ragged and puffy faced appearance.

“Don’t we just look like a matched pair?” she commented.

“A regular set of twins,” he responded ryely and instantly regretted it when her face froze.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea, Harry?”

He shrugged. “Not sure, but I don’t see any other option. Not if we both want to go back to Hogwarts and it’s the only place I really feel at home. I.. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable though. I am sure we can figure something else out.”

“Maybe,” she said as she settled back against her pillows and began to read the journal once more. He watched her for a minute as she became engrossed in the contents. He wondered for a bit just what the book said and about what had been done to him. Deciding he would ask her later, he leaned back against his pillows and opened his album.

Flipping to the next unviewed page, he studied the picture. For the most part, it was the same as the picture on the previous page, only this time Severus seemed more comfortable holding him and, more importantly, his mother was in the picture. He smiled, seeing his mother, who was kneeling beside Severus and laughing as her infant son kicked his legs in reaction to her finger tickling his heel. Staring at the happy woman in the picture, he felt the familiar sadness settle over him, again. He wished that he could remember more of his first year, of his life with his mum and dad.

“Of course!”

Hermione’s explanation drew his attention away from his the images once more.

“What?”

“Why Snape hated you! It’s brilliant!”

He felt his brow furrow at her statement. Arabella and Severus had explained much of that to him already. However, seeing her eagerness and excitement at her discovery and not wanting to temper her enthusiasm, he let her go on.

“The spells used on you presented a duplicate image of James, complete down to the details of his expressions. However, it was the charms your Mother used that were truly extraordinary. On the subconscious level, the charms tapped into memories and emotions associated with James. Your mother was very skilled and she cast the spells very well, Harry. When someone saw you, especially for the first time, the spell would tap into the memories that your appearance conjured up and associate that emotion with you, as well. It completed the illusion, made it as fool-proof as it could be.”

“So, since Severus and James hated each other since before Hogwart’s, that emotion got transferred to me? That’s why he hated me so much?” Harry paused, considering all he knew about the spells, “Does it mention any way around them?” he asked cautiously.

“Hermione looked at him quizzically for a moment then turned back to the book and started skimming, “Yes, here it is. The charm is based on a prejudice charm. The effects can be partial countered simply by personal knowledge; basically, if you get to know the person, you can counter the affects of the association with your own knowledge.”

“So if I had been, say, sorted into Slytherin and Severus had been forced to get to know me, he might have learned to see past the hatred?”

“Maybe,” she replied, her penetrating gaze examining him closely. She opened her mouth, then hesitated and closed it again. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Harry, are you really okay with Arabella and Professor Snape’s plan? I know you said you were, but really?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ve never really had a family before, but when I was little I used to imagine having a mum and dad and a little sister that I could protect from bullies like Dudley.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why? Are you thinking of accepting?” he asked, suddenly hopeful she would choose to be his sister.

“I think so. These spells are brilliant, Harry. They thought of everything,” she replied before quietly adding, “Besides, Hogwarts is the only home I have left now, too.”

“Even though it will be permanent? Even when it’s safe to take off the disguise, you’ll still be their adopted daughter: still be a Snape.”

“Legally, yes, but I would be a Figg in name. As Lady Arabella’s daughter and a healer, I would be expected to carry on tradition and take the Figg name.”

“Well, do you want to tell them now or wait until morning?” he asked. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He could see her anxiety building and decided that waiting wouldn’t be a good idea. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and pulled her across and off the bed, leading her out the door. “On second thought, lets get it over with,” he said as he made his way out the door and into the Haven common room.

The room was oddly quiet; Arabella, Severus and Sirius all sat separately, pouring over spell books and jotting down notes. Arabella was the first one to notice their presence and she looked up, smiling at them.

“Come join us,” she said as she scooted over, moving books off the sofa. Harry looked over and smiled encouragingly at Hermione, then drew her with him over to the sofa. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his godfather’s amused expression and smiled as he sat beside Arabella.

“We’ve made our decision,” he said simply and waited for reactions.

“Already? You’re sure?” Sirius asked.

Harry turned and looked a Hermione, who nodded. “Yes. We’re sure. I didn’t see any reason to put off telling you.” Taking a deep breath, he went on. “We decided to go through with the plan. We both want to return to Hogwarts and there really isn’t another viable way for that to happen.”

Harry watched as Arabella and his father exchanged glances. His father smiled slightly and nodded before rising from his armchair and walking off towards the room he shared with Arabella. Arabella turned back to them, smiling widely. Moving off the sofa, she pulled him and Hermione off the sofa and into a hug. When she stepped back, she turned to Harry and said, “I love you, Harry-bean.”

She turned then toward Hermione. Placing her hand under the younger girl’s chin, she forced Hermione to look up at her. “I wish I had the chance to know you before all this happened. I know you are accepting our offer not because you want new parents but for more practical reasons. I know we can never replace those that you lost. However, you have proven yourself to be a kind, loving, intelligent and brave girl and I could hope for no more in a child. I will be proud to call you my daughter, Hermione, and I hope in time I can help to fill some of the emptiness in your life.”

By the time Arabella finished, Hermione had tears quietly streaming down her cheeks. After brushing them away, Arabella pulled Hermione back into her arms. Harry smiled when Hermione accepted the comfort, wrapping her arms around the woman who would soon become her adoptive mother. Looking over at his godfather, he saw that Sirius was a bit misty-eyed, as well. Skirting around Hermione and Bella, he went to stand in front of the only person that he had remembered wanting him for a long time. Their eyes met and locked for a long moment before Sirius broke free and embraced Harry. A profound relief flooded through him; Sirius’ approval was more important to Harry than anything else. He tightened his hold on his godfather momentarily when he heard the man whisper a soft, “Welcome to the family, Harry. I couldn’t ask for a better nephew.”

Stepping back from his godfather, he smiled and watched as Sirius approached Bella and Hermione, separating the two.

“Excuse me, but I want to welcome my niece to the family,” he said before embracing Hermione briefly.

It was then that Harry noticed his father had returned to the room and was standing quietly behind his armchair watching the scene. He felt awkward suddenly, feeling as if he should approach the man but totally uncertain as to how. Severus must have noticed his consternation because he nodded toward the sofa. Quickly, he moved to take a seat on the arm of the sofa, just as Bella and Hermione took their seats. Severus merely raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction and, with a sigh, he slid off the arm and onto the sofa proper, causing both Hermione and Sirius to snicker.

“I have informed Professor Dumbledore of your decision. He will be down shortly. There are several details we will need to work out before we can proceed with the plan.” His father’s tone was formal, but not cold and he could see it surprised Hermione a bit. That, in turn, surprised him; had she not noticed, while spending countless hours with him, that he wasn’t the bastard they knew from class?

“What kind of details, Professor?” Hermione asked.

“Aside from the obvious things such as your appearance and name,” he said in a tone reminiscent of the one he used in class to answer what he thought were stupid questions, “there is also the matter of explaining your existence in the first place and why you weren’t on Hogwarts lists and didn’t get letters.”

“I’ve thought a lot about that since Bella first mentioned your idea to me this afternoon and, as much as I hate to say this, there is a very simple way to explain their existence,” Sirius said softly. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking firmly on his shoes. “Urian.” The last word was whispered so low that Harry almost missed it and he was sitting the closest to him. Harry quickly looked up at the others and immediately noted the sad expressions on their faces. His father had closed his eyes; his breathing was so even, it appeared almost regimented, like he was deliberately controlling the intake and outlet of air. Severus’ eyes snapped open suddenly and he reached out for Bella’s hand.

“He’s right, Bella,” he said softly.

He exchanged confused glances with Hermione before turning back to look in Arabella’s direction.

“I know,” Bella replied finally. Turning toward Harry, she explained, “I lost a baby a few months before you were born. His name was Urian and if I had carried him to term, he would have been three months younger than you.” She turned to Sirius and calmly said, “What are you suggesting?”

“That you tell everyone I stole your children to keep them from their Death Eater father.” There was a shocked silence in the room for a long time as the words penetrated. “Bella, I know you didn’t tell anyone about the baby. You told me yourself that you were scared he wouldn’t live, that you sensed something wrong. It’s why you hid the pregnancy, although I am sure it was noticed. You were making yourself so ill over it that Sev and I actually agreed on the need to intervene on your behalf. That’s why Sev sent you to the lake; it’s why I went with you.”

Harry glanced around the room, watching the reactions as he took in what was being said. Part of him was still a bit thrown by the idea that, at one time, he had a brother. Bella nodded to Sirius, indicating he was correct.

“I think Cissa suspected, but we never talked about it,” she said.

Severus expression changed slightly but Harry had no idea what it meant until he spoke. “That could work in our favor. We would just need to explain their absence and why I never mentioned them.”

“Say I hid them,” Sirius said, then turned and addressed Severus, “It was no secret to anyone that we dislike each other or that I suspected you were a Death Eater. We can say that I told Bella the twins died or were still born; she was too weak to do anything but sleep as it was. Say I hid them and that I confessed it to her when I thought you had died in the raid.”

“How do we explain her sudden reappearance? What about her attachment to Harry? It was well known. What about their education up until now?” Remus asked.

“Ah, now that will not be as hard as you think,” Albus Dumbledore said as he walked over to the small group. Harry tried not to snicker at the attire the Headmaster’s floppy nightcap or the attire he wore under his robe, purple night shift with snoring dragons. “Good evening, everyone,” he said, and then turned his attention toward Hermione and Harry. “Severus tells me you have made a decision. It pleases me greatly that you will both be able to return to school at Hogwarts. I believe you’ve made the appropriate choice.” Turning back to the group as a whole, he continued, “I believe it will be simple enough to explain their appearance; Severus can claim to have been looking for Arabella and to finally have found her. If I am not mistaken, several of your friends actually believe you have been looking for her already, do they not, Severus?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Harry’s father replied. “Draco saw my ring on the last day. I am sure he has mentioned it to at least one of his parents by now.” Harry cringed at the mention of the Malfoys. He hoped his new “life” wouldn’t mean he would have to associate with him too much, although he suspected he would have to at least be civil around Malfoy. “As for her fondness of Harry,” his father continued, “I see no reason not to say, if asked, that she kept an eye on him from a distance. Other than that, the subject should be avoided.”

“Good. Now about their education, I would suggest saying that they have studied the philosophy and techniques associated to magic of their level, but not the practical application, as Arabella feared it would draw attention. This will give us an excuse to have them tutored privately versus attending class with other students. We can continue their education on level and,” he said, pausing dramatically as he pulled a pouch from the pocket of his robe, “the privacy will allow them to use this to increase their study time to include learning all the things they should know about Avalon to keep up appearances.”

Dumbledore handed the purple velvet pouch to Arabella, who looked quizzically at it before loosening the string and dumping the contents into her hand. Hermione recognized the object first and gasped. A time turner. A wide smile spread across Bella’s and Hermione’s face at the sight; Harry groaned which, in turn, caused both Sirius and Remus to laugh.

“So then, the last major detail would be your names and appearances,” the headmaster said to Harry and Hermione. “Do either of you have a preference for a given name?”

Hermione responded first, almost immediately, “I would like to go by Livia, if that is alright sir. It was my grandmother’s name and my mother’s middle name.”

“I think Livia is a wonderful name. Actually, Sirius and I had an aunt named Livia, so it is very appropriate,” Arabella said. “Harry, what about you? Any ideas?”

“Not really. Did Mum have any other names picked out, besides Harry?” He asked. It felt very odd to him to be picking out another name. For many years, his name was the only thing he truly had of his own, it didn’t feel quite right to be changing it.

“Darrius,” Sirius said. “That was what they wanted to call you at first, until James started referring to you as DJ. Lily hated the nickname, so she named you Harry instead.”

Harry ran the name through in his mind, Darrius Snape. It didn’t sound to bad, and his mother obviously liked it. He looked to Arabella and his father, both of whom indicated their approval. Looking at Dumbledore, he replied, “I’ll use Darrius, Professor.”

“Alright then. Arabella, Severus, the second and third names for Livia?”

“Third name?” Harry asked.

“Really Harry, don’t you read anything but quidditch books?” Hermione said before launching into her explanation, “Pure-blood families, especially the really old ones, usually give each child a given name and two additional family names ­ one from each side. The mother’s family name is added on in most cases as well.”

Arabella laughed softly at the display and Harry felt himself flush slightly at having his ignorance displayed in front of everyone. He watched as she turned toward the Headmaster.

“I think Mared Igrainne,” Arabella answered, looking over at Hermione. “For Severus’ mother and my grandmother.”

Dumbledore smiled, “And Darrius?”

“Taliesin Alexander,” his father replied then turned to Harry with the explanation, “Taliesin is my second name. Alexander is Sirius’ second name, if I am not mistaken.” Harry smiled, although he didn’t miss the slight bitterness he heard in his father’s voice as he explained the origin of Harry’s third name. He, then, looked to his godfather, who seemed dumbfounded by Severus gesture.

“Thank you, Severus,” said the slightly shaken and surprised man.

“Well, names are now settled. That just leaves Hermione’s new appearance and a few other details. Since Hermione’s eyes are growing darker with the awakening of her powers, they shouldn’t need to be changed further. By September, they should quite match Severus’ in color.”

Harry glanced at Hermione, noticing both her surprised expression and the fact that her eyes had darkened to a chocolate brown color. Looking at the headmaster he asked, “I don’t understand, sir. Why are her eyes getting darker?”

“Doesn’t Hogwarts require an orientation class anymore?” Bella asked, obviously surprised by Harry’s lack of knowledge.

“I’m afraid not, Arabella. Although, if you’re interested in teaching it, I would think, especially in these times, that such a class could be very beneficial,” the headmaster said, then turned to Harry to explain.

“Harry, when witches or wizards are extremely powerful, there are certain outward manifestations of that power, the most common of which is the changing of eye color. If your eyes were blue, they’d go either ice-pale, almost silver like Arabella’s and Professor Dumbledore’s or a dark almost purple color. Green eyes become almost unnaturally bright, like yours and your mother’s. Brown eyes usually darken to black, like Professor Snape’s.”

He nodded his understanding then sat back and listened as the others discussed what Hermione should look like, from hair and skin tone to which of her facial features would need to change. He couldn’t help but wonder what he actually looked like under all the charms and transfigurations. It was a subject he had avoided thinking about for a while, but the dread he had felt before was fading now. He remembered Bella telling him that the spells had replaced the features he inherited from his father with James’. He guessed that meant he would look quite a bit like Severus when the spells wore off. Looking at his father, he tried to imagine what Severus would have looked like at 15, or with a bit more color in his skin or if his body were not so thin. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t quite picture it.

Shifting in his seat to get more comfortable, he propped his head on the arm of the sofa and tried to concentrate on what was being said. His vision blurred and darkened, and he forced himself to blink several times to keep his eyes open. Arabella looked over at him and smiled. Gently, she stroked a hand across his hairline, pushing a few renegade hairs out of his face. A warm floating sensation flooded his sense and he felt every muscle in his body relaxing. He couldn’t help but smile at the love that came through from her even as his eyes fluttered shut and he allowed himself to succumb to a well-deserved sleep.