CHAPTER 5

The room went utterly silent before Ron gasped, "Did it say… Slytherin?" Then everyone started talking at once.

"That's not possible!"

"But she's so sweet!"

"The hat has to be wrong."

Harry paid no attention to any of it, instead focusing on the two adults beside him that had suddenly gone so suspiciously silent.

He'd watched Lily's features transform from gleeful excitement, to confusingly baffled, and finally slide into dark apprehension. Eyebrows furrowed in uneasy tension, she clearly didn't understand why everyone around her was so upset.

Snape, on the other hand, looked completely and utterly dumbfounded. The expression would have been comical if it wasn't such a major revelation to them all. As much as he'd grumbled over the prospect, it was obvious that his father had assumed the Sorting Hat to announce that Lily was a Gryffindor. After all, her entire family had been sorted into that House, and she definitely acted the part…

But as the scandalized remarks continued around them, Lily turned to Snape and asked, "Isn't Slytherin your House?" At his terse nod she continued, "Is this... bad... or?"

"Of course it's not bad, my dear," Dumbledore interrupted, speaking for the first time. Although his voice was no more than a murmur, the table immediately quieted down around him. It was only then that Harry realized the headmaster's eyes were twinkling merrily behind his spectacles, as if the announcement had pleased him more than he could say.

"But Headmaster!" Ron suddenly cried, "The Sorting Hat... That can't be right. Lily... She's not... I mean she's not dark at all!"

"Who said anything about Slytherins being dark, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked kindly, turning his smiling gaze on Harry's horrified friend.

"But what about He Who Must Not Be Named–?" George asked.

"And all the Death Eaters?" Fred added.

"What about them?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes continuing to twinkle as he focused a benign smile on the twins.

"They're Slytherins, aren't they?" Neville added timidly.

"Indeed. What has that got to do with anything?"

"Well…" Ron interjected awkwardly. "Aren't only dark wizards sorted into Slytherin?"

Harry glanced nervously at his father out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he was offended by this line of questioning, especially since it was regarding his beloved Snakes. But Harry smirked as he realized that his father was hardly paying attention, and was instead gazing at Lily as if he'd won some magnificent prize.

"The Slytherin Head of House is sitting directly across from you," Dumbledore calmly pointed out to Ron. "Helping to celebrate your best friend's birthday. Not only that, but Harry is also his newly adopted son – a fact that puts him in significantly greater risk in his role as a double-agent. Now I ask you: if only evil people are sorted into Slytherin, does that seem like something a dark wizard would do?" The words could have been spoken harshly, but instead Dumbledore addressed the table with a mild, patient smile.

Ron digested this for a long moment. "No," he finally conceded, "I guess not." But the way he looked warily across at Snape made Harry's skin prickle. He's still not completely convinced, Harry realized, the uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach. But he ignored it as the headmaster continued speaking.

"People seem to conveniently forget that Merlin – arguably the greatest wizard of all time – was also a Slytherin. As feared as Voldemort is, Merlin is just as celebrated. To this day wizards are awarded The Order of Merlin if they achieve a notable success within the wizarding world. I myself happen to have an Order of Merlin, First Class. Does that mean I am a Dark Wizard?"

"Of course not," Fred murmured, and Harry realized that everyone around him was suddenly looking abashed and somewhat ashamed. They were silent and contemplative for long moments.

"We just thought–" George began, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"You thought what most of the wizarding world has thought since Voldemort's first rise to power. It's not your fault – you weren't even born when this particular prejudice began. It is a belief based purely on fear that has, unfortunately, been passed down to you.

"You see, people tend to make assumptions about the Hogwarts Houses: Hufflepuff has always been associated with loyalty, Gryffindors with bravery, Ravenclaws with learning, and Slytherins with ambition – which only had a negative element cast upon it when Voldemort rose to power. Before then, ambition was simply considered a defining trait of success.

"However, because of the many atrocities Voldemort and his Death Eaters have perpetrated over the years, the wizarding public has forgotten what Slytherins truly stand for." His voice gained strength and conviction as he continued, "The reality is that Slytherins are as loyal as Hufflepuffs, but believe that loyalty should be earned. They are as brave as Gryffindors, but tend to charge into battle with leveler heads. They are as learned as Ravenclaws, but have the ambition to push themselves to achieve success. All of these traits come together to create people who are proud, sensible, pragmatic, and eager to prove themselves. We just so happen to label them Slytherins.

"But I ask you: do any of these traits sound inherently dark? Indeed, does they sound so very different from yourselves?"

As an uncomfortable silence settled over the table, Harry glanced at his father once more. Snape was staring at the headmaster looking quite overwhelmed, as if even he had forgotten what it truly meant to a Slytherin before the wicked darkness of Voldemort had infected it.

Perhaps he never realized he had a choice to be anything else before it was too late.

In that moment Harry realized with shame that before Snape had entered his life, he had been guilty of categorizing Slytherins the same way that his friends did. I wasn't so very different from the Dursleys in that respect, he thought morosely.

Knowing the truth of his words, but also acutely aware of how much had changed since then, Harry turned to Lily and said, "I don't care if you're Slytherin. Dad is a Slytherin… and he's the bravest man I know."

Ginny was quick to agree with Harry's declaration. With a challenging look at each of her brothers she announced, "I don't know why we put so much stock into being sorted. You're one of us, no matter what anyone says!"

The twins nodding their agreement and lifted their glasses in a silent toast. Ron grumbled a little and shot Snape a wary look before conceding, "Yeah, we don't care that you're Slytherin." He smiled warmly at Lily for a moment before a horrifying thought seemed to occur to him, and he amended with a grimace, "Except for Quiddich! I don't think I'd be able to stomach seeing a member of my own family cheering for Slytherin."

Harry laughed. But Lily, staring seriously at her younger cousin, made a solemn vow. "I'll always cheer for Gryffindor. I give you my word."

Snape, obviously back to his old self, rolled his eyes and muttered something about "Senseless Gryffindor pride."

"Well, now that we've settled that," Dumbledore said with a genuine smile. "Let's eat, shall–"

"Wait!" Jillian cried, "Mum hasn't got a party hat yet!"

"Of course, how thoughtless of me," the headmaster politely acknowledged.

Although Dumbledore's defense of Slytherin House had visibly reassured her, Lily still looked a little nervous as she slipped the Sorting Hat back onto her head. The table watched in anticipation, curious as to which part of her personality would be expounded on.

Lily sat unnaturally still for a long moment before a queer look passed over her face. Turning to Snape, she grinned mischievously as she removed the Sorting Hat to reveal a colorful, festive turban decorated completely with tropical flowers, leaves, and bumpy, dark green fruit.

"Merlin's beard," his father muttered in mortification, and he promptly scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his reddening cheeks. Lily couldn't seem to help herself as she burst out laughing.

"What?" Harry asked, nonplussed, as his gaze flicked between the two of them.

"Nothing!" His father choked out as Lily threw a hand over her mouth to stifle her amusement.

"What are those?" Ginny asked, eying Lily's fruit hat in curiosity. "They look like alligators or something."

Lily glanced sideways at Snape with the impish smile still firmly in place. Harry didn't think it was possible, but his father's face turned an even deeper shade of red. "They're called avocados," Lily exclaimed brightly. "They're an exotic fruit from Mexico–"

"Are you feeling alright, Severus?" Dumbledore suddenly interrupted, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, you are looking a bit feverish," Professor McGonagall chimed in, looking as though she was biting hard on the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.

"We wouldn't want you getting sick!" Fred called, not wanting to miss out on the opportunity to harass the normally reserved man.

George joined in saying, "Why don't you let us floo call Madam Pomfrey? I'm sure she could get you settled–"

"If you don't drop this subject in the next two seconds," Harry's father growled menacingly, "I'm going to start using the Entrails-Expelling Curse." The threat didn't carry much weight however, since his father still refused to look anyone in the eye.

"So..." Ron motioned to Lily after a long moment. "The things on your hat are fruits?" Harry laughed, knowing full well that his friend was intrigued by the mention of food.

"Ronald..." Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes.

"What?!" He cried defensively. "I'm hungry!"

"You want one?" Lily asked, eager to share. "They're really good! Severus will tell you," she murmured in a teasing tone as she glanced yet again at the red-faced Snape.

"Woman," he growled darkly, "You're not going to like it when I take my revenge."

"Oooooo," the twins jeered playfully. But suddenly small, silver fish began flying from their nostrils with each bark of laughter. They both covered their noses as they cried out in shock.

"What the–?!"

"Merlin's beard!"

Snape chuckled in smug retribution, looking surprised when Ginny joined in. "You two seriously need to learn when to keep your mouth shut," she snickered at the twins, evidently not sorry for them in the least. She gazed at Snape with an approving smirk, and Harry watched in satisfaction as his father's eyes seemed to glow with grudging respect.

But as he saw Lily scowling his way, Snape's face got suddenly somber. The redhead impatiently waved her wand while glaring at his father, and the fish immediately stopped shooting out from between Fred and George's fingers.

They continued groaning, but Harry completely ignored them as he gazed at Lily in growing admiration. He supposed learning how to end hexes and minor curses – considering they were in a school with almost a five-hundred boisterous students – was one of the first things that Madam Pomfrey must have taught her. But he was still impressed for even though she had no practical training, she was obviously a quick study.

Ron glanced indifferently at the whining twins for a few moments before he murmured dismissively, "Yeah? Try puking slugs for six hours." Disregarding them completely, he addressed Lily once more. "So about these adovacos–"

"Avocados," Hermione sighed.

"That's what I said. You don't mind if I try one?"

"Of course not!" Lily answered with a warm smile. And as she plucked one off her turban, another promptly grew back in its place. "Oh, I like this hat," she murmured happily, using her wand to cut the fruit in half and banish the pit.

Ron gleefully took a bite, moaning a bit enthusiastically at how much he liked it. "Oh ye-e-e-ah," he sighed.

Snape's cheeks reddened ever so slightly as he rolled his eyes and muttered, "What is it with you people?" Lily just snorted as she attempted to hide a grin. Yet again, Harry had no idea what either of them were talking about.

"Well," Dumbledore announced as he gazed at Ron gorging himself, "I know Mr. Weasley cannot be the only one who is hungry. Let's all dig in, shall we?" And with a wave of his hand, a magnificent feast like those in the Great Hall filled the platters before them.

The food was spectacular, the company even more so. Laughter and love filled the room, and Harry knew without a doubt that when he remembered this day later on in his life, it would forever be a highlight.

And that was even before presents.

Harry had never seen so many gifts for a single person, even when he was still living with the Dursley's.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor," his father muttered as he used his wand to hover the table of gifts over next to Harry. "You look like a fish."

"Well… I've never received birthday gifts before, except from Ron and Hermione," Harry quietly replied. His father seemed to tense at that, and for a moment looked as if he was having a difficult time collecting himself. But Harry didn't miss how Lily's fingers reached over to interlace with Snape's, or how she smiled tenderly at Harry, and a warm feeling seemed to flood the pit of his stomach.

He couldn't focus on that for long however, because at that moment Jilly cried, "Open mine first, Harry!" Inspecting the pile of gifts, his father once again used his wand to hover Jilly's present towards him.

"I hope you like it," the little girl shyly beamed as Harry plucked the wrapped foot-long tube out of the air. He laughed as he ripped the paper and immediately recognized a neon-colored pog case like those in Jilly's collection. As he popped the lid to happily inspect the pogs and slammers she'd given him, she said, "Now you can have a set when we play. They all have pictures of brooms and Quidditch and stuff. Severus helped me charm them."

Harry dumped the thick, golden metal slammer into his palm and saw that it was branded with a golden snitch. With an excited grin at both Jillian and Snape, Harry said, "Thank you so much, Jilly! I love them!"

"What are those?" Ron asked, intrigued. As the reigning Gobstones and Wizard's Chess champion, Harry supposed he could understand his friend's interest.

"They're called pogs," Jillian said with a giggle. "Haven't you ever seen them before?" When Ron shook his head, she launched into an explanation of the pieces and how the game was played.

With a roll of his eyes at the redhead, Snape hovered another present into Harry's lap. This one was large and square, about the size of an oversized briefcase.

"That one's from us," Fred announced with a wicked grin.

"Yeah mate, we hope you like it," called George with an equally mischievous gleam in his eye.

Ripping through the wrapping paper, Harry found what looked like a wooden cupboard that opened in the middle.

"That looks like my father's dartboard cabinet," Hermione mentioned. But as Harry opened one of the wooden doors, he was stunned to be face to face with a large, round board that displayed the scowling countenance of none other than Dolores Umbridge. She seemed to recognize him as her eyes connected with Harry's, and her glare turned hateful.

Harry's faced scrunched in repugnance as he slammed the door shut over the woman's ugly face. What in Merlin's name would make them think I would LIKE that?! Harry wondered. "Err… Thanks," he said to the twins, not really meaning it. Fred and George began laughing hysterically at the look on his face.

"Don't worry Harry, it's not what you think," George gasped through his amusement.

"It's an idea we got from Dad's newest piece in his muggle collection," Fred explained. "What did you say it was called, Hermione? A dart board?" And they both rose to their feet to show him how it worked.

"The little missiles are kept here," demonstrated George, opening both cabinet doors and showing him four sets of darts, each with different colored fins to represent the four houses, Harry noted. They never do skimp on the details, he thought appreciatively. Seeing their intent, the picture of Umbridge suddenly growled up at them.

"Shut it you," Fred muttered dismissively before once again addressing Harry. "You can play by yourself, or with up to four people. The aim," he continued as he chose a red dart and used his wand to send the round Umbridge board floating into the air about six feet away from them, "is to hit her." And he lobbed the dart with force and accuracy at their hated ex-headmistress. It landed with a satisfying thunk directly between her eyes. Everyone laughed at her ridiculous, surprised expression, as her eyes crossed to better see the dart sticking out of her face. Even Dumbledore chucked, his eyes twinkling magnificently behind their spectacles, and he was usually courteous enough not to laugh at his enemy's misfortune.

"You get points for every one that lands," George explained, motioning to the area below the red darts, which now had a red, glowing 100 that had appeared beneath them.

"The better the shot, the more points you get," Fred finished with a flourished bow for the rest of the table. "Pretty simple, really." And the twins made their way back to their seats.

"We're thinking about making one with Snape's face," George muttered offhandedly, and his father choked into the goblet he was drinking from.

"I think I'm going to open this one next!" Harry announced, plucking a random gift off the table to prevent his father from murdering his two friends.

It went like that for well over an hour, and Harry had more fun than even he anticipated. Harry was a proud receiver of a fur-lined Quidditch cloak from Hagrid, for when the weather on game days was disagreeable; a set of essential oils specifically made for healing, distilled from rare plants from Neville; an enormous, heavy book of Quidditch moves from Ron called Quiddicth Plays Throughout the Ages; concert tickets for the latest hit wizarding band (he assumed correctly that these were from Tonks); a remarkable pair of forearm-length Quidditch gloves from Professor McGonagall, which provided Harry with extra protection from quaffles, bludgers, and other players, as well as better grip on the broom (and snitch); shaded lenses that attached to Harry's glasses from Luna, to make it easier to see the snitch during sunny days (this one was most surprising since Harry expected her to gift him with something to keep away the nargles or something); what looked like a muggle daily planner (enchanted with her own additions, of course) from Hermione; a heavy white stone with grey veining on a thick chain to be worn around one's neck (who he only found out later was from Remus, who explained that the stone would turn black as night when anywhere near dark magic); and the small, replica Quidditch set that the family had seen in Diagon Alley from Ginny.

It was at that moment that Dobby arrived, bursting into existence on the other side of Harry with a small pop!

"Hi Dobby!" Harry welcomed, pleasantly surprised to see the little creature. "It's nice to see you!"

"Hello, Harry Potter, sir!" the house elf squeaked in excitement. "Dobby came to wish Harry Potter a very happy birthday. Harry Potter is a great wizard, so kind, so generous, so compassionate–"

"Err… Thanks Dobby," Harry interrupted, feeling his cheeks flame. "Can you stay for a little while? You're my friend, too – I'd love to have you here."

Dobby's large, tennis-ball eyes filled with unexpected tears. "Harry Potter wants Dobby to stay for his celebrations," he sniffed. "Dobby is unworthy to know such a great wizard such as Harry Potter!"

"I don't know about all that," Harry muttered, still uncomfortable with Dobby's overflowing praises. Without thinking he scooted over and asked, "Why don't you sit between Ron and me?" When Dobby's eyes glazed over again and his chin began to wobble, Harry shoved the Sorting Hat into his hands before he could start wailing his appreciation and hurriedly asked Dumbledore, "Do you think the Sorting Hat would give Dobby a party hat, as well?"

"Between the magic in this room and the magic of the hat, I don't see why not," the headmaster shrugged with a warm smile down at the tremulous house elf, who looked beside himself to be included.

Harry was yet again impressed by the magic hat's accuracy and ability to understand the beings whose head it sat upon, for when Dobby removed it, he had on a colorful jester hat, complete with jingle bells on the ends.

The house elf gave a squeal of delight. "Oh, Dobby likes this hat, Harry Potter! Dobby will be keeping this hat with all the others! Dobby will be wearing this hat while he works in the kitchens! Which reminds Dobby," he chorused in his squeaky voice. He suddenly pulled a golden fork out from Harry didn't want to know where, and presented it to him with a flourishing bow, making the jingle bells on the end of his hat tinkle as they bounced against the floor. "Happy Birthday, Harry Potter, sir!"

"Uhh… Thanks Dobby," Harry acknowledged, taking the utensil uncertainly. "This is a… err… very nice fork. Very shiny."

"Not just any fork for Harry Potter!" Dobby exclaimed. "All yous has to do while you is in Hogwarts is hold this fork and think of anything yous wants to eats, and it will appear Harry Potter! Special house elf magic," he hinted proudly, waggling his eyebrows.

"Wow! This the best gift of the day!" Ron crowed as he snatched the fork from Harry's hand and held it reverently. "Thanks Dobby!"

Hermione placed her fingers against her forehead and sighed in exasperation.

"Yeah, thanks a lot Dobby," Harry laughed before smiling down at the little elf. "I love it. I'm sure we'll get lots of use out of it," he mused while shaking his head at Ron.

"I suppose now is a good time for my gift," Dumbledore interjected, his eyes twinkling. "Although I do fear it is rather a lot more work than your other presents. You see Harry, I would like to make you Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, if you will accept."

As his friends cheered and jostled him with congratulatory pats on the back, Harry stared blankly at the headmaster in stunned silence. When the truth of the old wizard's words finally began to sink in, a grin wide enough to make his cheeks hurt spread across his face. "Are you kidding?!" he proclaimed. "Of course I accept! Thank you, sir! Thank you very much!"

Before he could get too excited, his father glanced sideways at Lily and quietly mused, "Good. That means you'll be getting lots of use from our present, then. Accio Harry's gift." Although Harry was confused, he couldn't help noticing that both Snape and Lily's eyes were glowing in excited anticipation.

"What are you–?" But Harry practically fell out of his chair in surprise when a large object whizzed through an open window with such speed, it made the hair of everyone sitting around the table dance as if in a strong breeze. It came to a halt with perfect precision directly beside Harry. "Oh my – Merlin's beard!" he yelped in pureexhilaration, jumping to his feet as he realized that his gift was none other than the fastest racing broom currently on the market. "A Firebolt Supreme?! Oh my God, thank you! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!"

Lily laughed joyously, and although his father didn't quite smile, it was close.

After Harry stepped to one of the windows to take a turn on his new Supreme, he of course allowed all of his friends to ride the racing broom – all except Hermione and Neville, who were happy to keep their feet on the ground and simply watch, thank you very much.

The party was in full swing after that. They all took turns at "Dart the Toad", as they had dubbed it, playing pogs, and swapping magical prizes from the dozens of golden snitches still whizzing around the room. Ron was excited to see that he had a few dozen pogs of his own by the party was coming to a close, thanks to the snitches. For hours his friends and family did all they could to make this the best birthday of Harry's life. The laughter, friendship, and love filled Harry with a joyful warmth that the hottest fiendfire couldn't hope to replicate.

But as the sun began to sink into the horizon the partygoers began to say their farewells with fierce hugs and heartfelt smiles. When Fred and George eventually bid their goodbyes, Harry realized it was just he and his classmates who had fought with him at the Ministry left, as well as his family and Dumbledore. The teenagers found themselves gathering around the large fireplace to relax, while the adults stayed near the kitchen to talk over tea and biscuits. Harry smiled as he noticed that Jillian was asleep in Lily's lap.

"Dumbledore told us we could stay until school started," Hermione proclaimed excitedly. "He's invited us all to stay in Gryffindor Tower, even Luna. We'll have it all to ourselves for the entire week!"

"That's great," Harry murmured, but inside he felt a pang at the thought of no longer returning to Lily's Tower with the rest of his family. He'd known the situation was only temporary, and supposed that living with his friends for the remaining week of summer would be a kinder transition than holding on till the very last second.

They spoke of other things then, like what they expected the coming year to be like, as well as the prospects for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Eventually Ginny, Luna, and Neville decided to head back to Gryffindor Tower, and it was just Harry, Ron, and Hermione left.

As they sat talking and laughing quietly amongst themselves, Dumbledore found his way over to them. "May I join you?" he asked politely, and at their generous welcome, he conjured a large, stuffed wingback chair complete with matching ottoman. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he murmured. "But I have another gift for you, Harry – one that is better left between the four of us." He gazed at all of them with a solemn look.

"Of course, sir," Harry responded sincerely. "Just the four of us. We understand."

Dumbledore seemed to relax at their eager expressions, and from within the folds of his cloak he pulled something that both shocked and exhilarated Harry.

"Is that… Tom Riddle's old diary?" Hermione murmured with wide, terrified eyes.

"Don't worry, it's dead now," Harry remarked calmly. And for some inexplicable reason, he reached for it without any hesitation. The headmaster seemed to be studying him as Harry turned it over in his hand, running his fingers over the ragged edges of the large hole, examining the dried ink stains that now looked like old blood.

"What's all over it?" Ron questioned, his nose scrunched in disgust.

"When I stabbed it with the basilisk fang, it… bled. A lot." Harry explained, still a bit perplexed by what had happened all those years ago.

Steepling his fingers beneath his chin, Dumbledore watched Harry for a moment longer before he murmured, "It's interesting that you describe it as being 'dead'. Why is that, Harry?"

"Well," Harry considered, choosing his words carefully. "Ginny said that it seemed to take over her mind and force her to do things she normally would never do. And when I fought with Tom Riddle down in the Chamber… I know he was just a memory, but he seemed so alive. So… real."

"Indeed," Dumbledore muttered, and Harry thought he detected a note of approval in the headmaster's voice. "It was these very same observations that made me wonder, as well. How could it do such things if it was not a living thing? But how could a diary – no more than leather and parchment –be considered alive?" He seemed lost in deep, troubling contemplation for long moments, and the trio glanced nervously at one another. But then the old wizard seemed to shake himself, and he gazed at Harry with a smile. "I was hoping that you would help me answer these questions, Harry."

"Me?" Harry doubted. "But… How could I possibly–?"

"Don't dismiss yourself, Harry," Hermione was quick to interject. "You're a great wizard."

"Yeah, mate. Who else has gone up against You Know Who as many times as you have – and lived?" Ron agreed.

Harry was at a loss for words at their fierce defense of his skills. "I… Well… But I… That was just luck…"

Dumbledore, however, seemed to glow at his two friends as he answered Harry. "Perhaps it was luck. Perhaps it was something more." But he did nothing to explain his cryptic words, and instead queried, "Would you meet with me tomorrow evening, Harry? After dinner, say around six o'clock? I have a task that I could use your assistance with."

Eyes still wide with disbelief at being asked to help Dumbledore – the greatest wizard of all time, as far as Harry was concerned – he nodded. "Of course, sir. I'll be there."

"Excellent. In the meantime, I believe it's time for bed. Somehow I have a feeling that this last week of summer is going to be full of adventures for you and your friends, especially with two of the finest brooms in the world in your possession," he said with a wink. "I've been told that your things have already been moved to Gryffindor Tower, Harry."

"Alright," Harry muttered, glancing over at his family. "I'll go say goodnight to everyone."

"We'll meet you in the Tower, Harry." Hermione said with a meaningful gaze, and left together with Ron and the headmaster. He had the feeling that although Dumbledore considered it time for bed, the three of them would more than likely be up for hours discussing what Dumbledore could possibly want his help with.

Meandering into the tower kitchen, he slid into his normal place at the breakfast nook. His heart suddenly ached as he realized that his time in Lily's Tower was coming to a close, and this could be the last time in a long while that he sat here.

"Did you enjoy your party, Harry?" Lily suddenly asked, murmuring so as not to wake little Jillian.

"Are you kidding?" he affirmed with a grin. "This was by far one of the best days of my life. It was an amazing surprise… Thank you for planning it. Both of you."

"I haven't the faintest idea why you think I was involved," Snape muttered, refusing to meet Harry's gaze as he sipped his tea. Harry smiled knowingly, but didn't respond.

"Hey Dad," he suddenly blurted, "Did Dumbledore say anything about needing my help with some special project or anything? He asked to meet with me tomorrow evening after dinner..."

He trailed off when his father stiffened and with a sigh, replaced his cup onto its saucer with a tinkling clatter. As keen as Harry was for Snape's advice, the man took his time in answering.