It was the night before his birthday and Harry found himself unable to sleep. He was feeling almost sick with excitement and anticipation. Tomorrow he was to have his very first birthday party. Not only that but he would be leaving the castle and visiting his friends the Weasleys, who, in Harry's opinion, were the coolest family ever.

Tossing and turning behind the curtains of his bed Harry finally pushed off his sheet and sat up. His nightlight glowed softly next to him and using its warm pale light as a guide he shifted the thick curtain aside a little and scrabbled in the top drawer of his bedside cupboard. He tugged out a slim book and ruffled through its pages, sitting cross legged amongst the tangle of his bedclothes.

This was the book his tutor, Mr Lupin, had given him at the end of term feast. The colourful cover depicted a hand painted dragon, its golden and red scales glinting in the soft glow of the nightlight. Harry ran loving fingers over it, hugging to his heart the warm feeling of receiving a gift from someone he loved. It was one of his most prized possessions and he had spent some time agonising over what to use it for. It had seemed to him much too good to simply draw in, like it was any old book.

His father had suggested he use it for a diary which had seemed a fine idea to Harry until his dad had explained exactly what a diary was and how much writing it would involve. Harry liked writing just fine but he had the firm belief it was something you did because you had to, and not for fun.

He had compromised on the idea of a picture diary, where he could record the exciting events of his life with very big pictures and a very small amount of writing.

Opening the book on his lap Harry smiled at the first entry. He'd drawn his first broomstick ride and there he sat in the picture, perched on the broom in front of his father, looking very brave as they soared along next to a puffy cloud and a fierce looking bird. Harry had chosen not to draw in the straps his father had bound them together with. His dad called that artistic license which Harry figured out was another sort of pretending. He'd decided he liked the sound of it.

Turning the page he reflected that perhaps there was a bit of artistic license at work here as well. Especially the part where he and his dad weren't so much standing watching the dragons as they were riding around on their backs. Still, Harry thought, the dragons he'd drawn were every bit as good as the one on the cover of his book, and their teeth and claws in particular were impressively ferocious.

And there was the next picture over the page. Harry stifled a giggle and then looked around guiltily in case his father had heard. He listened for a moment but all he could hear was the old clock in the sitting room ticking away loudly and the floorboards creaking a little as they did every night. Harry returned his attention to the page. Here he had drawn his first swimming lesson, and there was Mr Lupin in his red and blue swimming costume. He'd wondered if maybe he'd overdone it a little with the stripes but his father had disagreed and pronounced it his best drawing ever. Harry had to agree that it made everyone he showed it to laugh quite loudly, so his dad was probably right.

The last drawing so far had taken most of Harry's black crayon to complete. It depicted the grounds at midnight, the sky heavy and dark, the round golden moon casting its bright rays down on him and his dad collecting their moonlight cuttings. They both carried baskets but instead of the rather blunt little scissors Harry had been armed with in reality, the smallest figure in the drawing now sported a huge carved sword.

Perhaps there had been a bit of license about this art too, Harry reflected. His father had commented on the sword and the headbands and their black outfits. And really it had taken Harry ages to explain the concept of ninjas to his skeptical dad. But they did look very cool, Harry finally decided, turning to the next page. It was still clean and white, as if awaiting the birthday party with as much anticipation as Harry himself.

Another floorboard creaked and Harry recognised it right away. Quickly stowing the book under his pillow the little boy blew his nightlight out and snuggled down, closing his eyes just in time as the curtain was drawn back a little letting in a chink of moonlight.

Harry concentrated on keeping his eyes closed as long seconds ticked past, but as usual his dad saw right through him.

"Go to sleep, Harry," he whispered.

Unwilling to give up the game Harry faked a small snore and his father snorted softly before tucking the curtain back tight. The boards creaked again but Harry kept his eyes closed, half his attention on his dad's progress and half drifting finally to real sleep.

As it claimed him the clock in the sitting room chimed midnight.

Harry was six.

888

Snape was actually awake before his excitable son the next morning, and he used the time to great advantage, sipping his tea and flipping through the newspaper. It would be his last chance of the day for some peace and quiet and he sighed as he contemplated the hours ahead. Three six year olds, innumerable Weasleys, Dumbledore and Lupin in a social setting and of course the redoubtable Mrs Longbottom.

He sighed again.

Still, it was only one day and it solved the problem of what on earth he could have done for Harry's birthday on his own. The house elves would have provided cake of course, in fact Pickle's ears had drooped alarmingly when he'd been informed Harry wouldn't be needing a birthday feast after all. But really it probably would have been dismal for the small boy, just the two of them there while he blew out his candles and made his wish.

Pickle appeared with a pop and a plate of fresh toast and the house elf fussed around the table a bit, casting glances towards the hall.

"Something wrong?" Snape finally asked impatiently and the old elf jumped.

"Not at all, sir, not at all," he squeaked, round eyes wide. "Just looking out for young Master Harry, sir. Pickle found some of that jam he wanted, sir. With no seeds."

The elf produced a glass jar from his spotless tea towel toga and proffered it proudly. "We, that is the house elves, sir, thought the young master might like some for his birthday breakfast. Seeing as how we're not to give him a birthday feast, sir," the elf finished reproachfully.

Snape glanced at the table, just noticing the extra covered dishes gracing its surface. Pickle followed his gaze guiltily.

"Just a few extras, sir," he said hurriedly. "Just a few treats for young Master Harry. Ah!' he exclaimed, large bat like ears twitching. "There he is now!"

Harry appeared in the doorway, yawning widely and still wrapping his dressing gown around his narrow waist.

"Happy Birthday!" Pickle announced, and suddenly there were a dozen more elves about the room, calling out greetings and bowing. A streamer popped and Harry was showered with confetti.

Harry jumped at the noise and then smiled, looking delighted. "Thank you," he said shyly and , as one, the elves all bowed very low again.

"That's enough," Snape said firmly and the elves all popped away, leaving only Pickle by the table. He laid the jam jar on the snowy white cloth, bowed again and then vanished.

"Wow," Harry said, shaking his head and leaving a trail of confetti behind him. "Fancy even Mr Pickle and the others remembering my birthday," he marveled. Instead of heading to his seat he stopped before his father and smiled again, still looking a trifle shy. "Morning, daddy," he murmured.

"Good morning, Harry," Snape said, eye brows rising. Harry was still looking at him expectantly and he realised it was his turn. "Ah, happy birthday, son."

Harry smiled more widely. "I'm six," he reminded his father.

"I know," Snape returned, not sure what was expected of him now. Did Harry want his gifts right away? Was there some muggle tradition he was totally missing?

Harry surveyed him for a few moments more, then shrugged and climbed onto his seat. "Are wizard birthdays the same as muggle birthdays?" he asked conversationally as he lifted his orange juice glass with two hands and took a sip.

"I don't know how muggles celebrate birthdays," Snape admitted, feeling as though he had just missed something important. "But don't be disappointed if things are a bit different at the Weasleys today. It's very kind of Mrs Weasley to offer to host this party at all. Understand?"

Harry absorbed this thoughtfully. "Will there be a cake with candles?"

"Absolutely."

"Do I blow them out and make a wish?"

"So far as I know."

Harry nodded. "That's all right then. I don't know much more about birthdays than that anyway. I was never allowed to go to Dudley's parties."

Snape resisted the urge to reach over and touch one small hand for comfort. "Eat your breakfast," he ordered instead, unwilling to think about the past today. Today was to be a happy day for the boy, building a new memory to replace the old bad ones. "And don't forget it's Neville's birthday as well," he reminded Harry as the child reached for the toast. "You must share the limelight."

"Ooh, my favourite jam!" Harry exclaimed, spreading a generous dollop onto his toast. Then he looked up. "What's limelight? Can I have orange instead? Lime turns my tongue green."

Snape shook his head. "I'm just reminding you that the party is for both you and Neville."

"It will be good to see Neville again," Harry said happily around a mouthful of toast. "I bet he likes my present. I bet he likes it best of all."

Snape gave up and finished his own breakfast, enjoying the extra treats as much as Harry did.

"What time do we go?" Harry asked, mopping up the last of his syrup with a morsel of pancake.

"The party starts at eleven."

Harry looked at the clock with a sigh, it was barely eight. "What am I supposed to do until then?"

Deciding it was time Snape nodded over Harry's shoulder to the fireplace. Harry's birthday present leaned up against it, a bow tied around one end its only decoration, mainly because Snape couldn't figure out how to wrap it.

Harry almost choked on his last bite of pancake and Snape jumped up and slapped him on the back. He handed him his juice and Harry gulped at it, wide eyes still fixed on the broomstick leaning against the mantelpiece, despite the watery tears blurring his vision.

"It's a birthday gift, Harry," Snape said in exasperation, rubbing the boy's narrow back. "Not worth choking yourself over."

"You bought me a broomstick," Harry said reverently, scrambling off the chair and rushing to the gift.

"Don't sound so surprised." Snape said, rolling his eyes. "You've been hinting about it for weeks."

But Harry wasn't listening, he was running his fingers over the shiny wood then wrapping his hands around the shaft and lifting the broomstick up. The wood was a dark cherry red and small fancy letters were set into the shaft in bronze.

"The Brightfeather," Harry read carefully. "Wow." He held the broom as if to mount it but Snape held up a warning finger and he froze.

"First rule of broom ownership, Harry," Snape said firmly. "No flying inside. Ever."

Harry looked crestfallen but hugged the broom to his chest. "Can we go outside so I can try it?"

"When you're dressed," Snape began and Harry was away, almost tangling his feet in the broom before catching himself on the sofa and hurrying to the hall. "If you survive that long," Snape muttered. He glanced at the mantelpiece where another gift resided, unnoticed in the glare of the much anticipated broom. He gathered it up and carried it to the bedroom where Harry was sitting on the floor trying to pull his shorts on without letting go of his broom.

"Just get dressed and stop being silly," Snape ordered, tossing the gift box on the bed and taking the broom from Harry's hand.

"What's that?"

Snape felt a little awkward. Harry had asked for a broom and received one, he hadn't been expecting anything else. In hindsight it seemed a little foolish to have wrapped this last gift up at all, he was Harry's father, he bought Harry's clothes, they weren't gifts. But he had expended some energy on this, put some thought into it. And Harry was the most clothes conscious child he'd ever met, although admittedly he hadn't met that many children Harry's age...

"Is it for me?" Harry asked curiously, standing up and straightening the waistband of his shorts.

"It's just clothes," Snape shrugged.

Harry's mouth turned down. "It's not another velvet suit, is it?" he asked anxiously. "I didn't mean to tear the last one, honestly I didn't. It was that frilly lace on the neck, it got caught on my foot."

"Let's not get into another discussion about why your foot was anywhere near the lace collar of your suit, shall we?" Snape nudged the box towards Harry. "It's not a suit. But it is a rather smart set I thought you could wear to the party."

Looking as though he suspected the worst Harry tugged the lid off the box and pulled out the shirt. It was simple white linen with a neat collar and not a trace of lace in sight. Under it was a pair of trousers in various shades of blue in a material Snape wouldn't use to wipe out a crucible. He'd personally hated it on sight but the shop keeper at Gladrags had assured him it was very much the required article of clothing for the discerning muggle born and highly popular. This, of course, had been reflected in the price.

"Jeans," Harry breathed, pulling them out and holding them up. "Boys jeans!"

"All your clothes are boys clothes, Harry," Snape began in exasperation, but Harry had whirled and was hugging him tightly around the waist. "Yes, well," Snape said, patting the tousled head. "I'm glad you like them."

"Can I wear them now?" Harry reached for his shorts but Snape shook his head.

"They're for the party."

"But it's my birthday!"

"And I want you to look presentable at the party."

"I won't get them dirty," Harry beseeched. "I want to wear them now!"

"And if you do get them dirty?" Snape raised a brow. "Pickle mended your velvet suit, you know. That's what you'll have to wear if you get your new outfit dirty."

Harry made a face and laid the jeans carefully back on the bed. "I'll save them for later," he decided.

"Wise choice."

888

"Now, you don't just climb on a broomstick, Harry," Snape lectured when they were on the wide grassy swathe near the forest. "First you lay it on the ground."

Harry obediently laid the broom down, giving it a loving pat.

"Now the rules. Remember the first one?"

"No flying inside," Harry chorused. "Ever."

"Well done. Rule two: Don't fly out of my sight. Your boundaries are the edge of the forest." He pointed. "The castle walls. And the standing stones. Right?"

Harry nodded, shifting his feet impatiently.

"Finally this is a child's broom, Harry. It is charmed not to fly too high or too fast, understand?"

"But it does fly, right?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Let's see." Snape held his hand out in demonstration. "Put your hand out, Harry, over the broom."

Harry did, looking excited.

"Now you must command the broom to your hand. It must come to you and respond to your magic, or it will not respond to your commands to fly or stop. Say: up! It might not work the first time."

"Up!" Harry commanded and the broom jumped up and hit the palm of his hand. The boy grasped it, face glowing. "I did it!"

Snape contented himself with a nod. He'd expected nothing less. "Now, mount your broom and I will instruct you how to steer."

Harry was a natural, although his enthusiasm made the broom's movements a little erratic at times. Glad of the extra charms he had asked Flitwick to add, Snape watched a trifle anxiously as both Harry and the broom seemed to strain to go higher. But the charms held and Harry floated barely a foot above his dangling sandals.

"Got all that? Especially the stopping part?"

Harry nodded, sitting back on the cushiony bristles as shown. "Can I fly now?"

Snape nodded and the boy was away, hair streaming behind him and his whoop of joy echoing off the old castle walls. Snape kept one hand on his wand and one on the camera as he snapped a few pictures and made sure the child didn't fly into a wall or a tree.

Harry however didn't seem at all concerned, he flew to the boundary indicated and performed a near perfect turn, speeding back at the absolute limit of the broom's capabilities.

"Can I go faster?" he called out and Snape shook his head.

"When you're older!" he called as Harry whipped by.

Harry turned again and doubled back. "How old?" he called.

"Thirty," Snape muttered, waving as Harry zoomed past towards the weathered old standing stones. The boy waved gaily back.

After some more dizzying turns Harry headed back and slowed the broom right down, puttering to a gentle idle before his father.

"I can fly," he said proudly.

"And stop," Snape added, "which is just as important."

"When I'm better can I get a snitch and try to catch it?"

"We'll see," said Snape, in the common noncommittal cry of all parents, muggle or magic. "Now stop wasting time, go play, you have to get washed and dressed for the party in a few hours."

888

Snape made a final inspection before they left. Harry was clean and tidy, his hair still a trifle damp, the unruly waves momentarily tamed. He had Neville's gift clutched firmly in his hand, the wrapping paper already looking slightly the worse for wear. He also had a bunch of flowers they had picked for Mrs Weasley that morning after the flying lesson. Harry was clutching it so tightly in his excitement it was starting to look a little tattered as well.

"I'll hold the flowers, shall I?" Snape offered, taking the slightly bedraggled bunch and livening it up with a small charm. "Just for the journey, you can give it to your hostess when we arrive."

Snape checked that he had his own small gift for Neville in his pocket and the camera he had taken to carrying around with him lately. Harry liked lots of photographs to hang on his walls and show his friends and Snape indulged him. The fact that he kept a few for himself was totally beside the point.

"Are you sure we won't get burned?" Harry asked doubtfully, staring into the small fire Snape had spelled into the grate. "It looks pretty hot to me."

"If you stepped into a normal fire, Harry, I guarantee you would get burnt," Snape said, taking a pouch of Floo powder from his pocket. "That's where the magic comes in. Floo powder turns the fire green and takes the heat away, you can tell right away that it's safe." Snape flung a handful into the flames and the fire roared and burst into green flames which breathed sparkly fumes over them but absolutely no heat.

Harry was making a horrified face but Snape picked him up and perched him on his hip. "Keep your elbows tucked in," he lectured. "And close your eyes or the soot will get in them."

"I don't like this," Harry moaned, but Snape was already striding into the roaring green light.

"The Burrow," he said firmly, and with Harry's head tucked tightly in his neck they began to spin.

"Daddy!" Harry wailed, then he spat and spluttered as they spun to a halt and Snape leapt nimbly from the new grate.

"I should have told you to keep your mouth closed too," Snape said as Harry leaned back against his arm making gagging noises.

"Oh, dear," Mrs Weasley said, appearing at their side. "Mouth full of soot? Let me get you some water."

"I really don't like that!" Harry exclaimed, wiping at his mouth and smearing soot all over his chin.

"Here, take a sip," Mrs Weasley said sympathetically, holding a mug up to his lips. Harry took a sip and wiped his mouth again. "Look at you!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, brushing ineffectually at their clothes. Harry's once white shirt was now grey. "Let me get you a clothes brush and I'll dust you down."

"That won't be necessary," Snape said firmly. He stood Harry on his feet and pulled out his wand to cast a spell. The soot flew off their clothes and tumbled harmlessly back into the fireplace.

"Oh, that's a handy spell!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "Remind me to get that off you before you go." She smiled down at Harry fondly. "Hello, Harry love. Happy birthday!"

Harry was still rubbing at his mouth a bit, but he returned her smile. Snape thrust the bunch of flowers at him and Harry gallantly handed them to his hostess, as if he gave flowers to women all the time.

"For me?" she exclaimed, and then she snatched him up and gave him a big hug.

"Wizards do give birthday hugs!" he said happily as she stood him back down.

"Wizards give all sorts of hugs," she confided with a wink. Then she shrieked. "Ronnie!"

Harry jumped and Snape winced.

"Ronnie!" she shouted again. "Harry's here! He's been ever so excited," she said comfortably. "Even cleaned his room up, and I hardly had to nag him at all!"

There was a clatter on the stairs and Ronnie appeared, bright red hair a flame in the dim cool kitchen. "Hi, Harry!" he said breathlessly, running up to his mum and leaning against her leg. "What did you get for your birthday?"

"A broom!" Harry said, grinning widely. "And I've been flying it all morning!"

"Yes, yes, how nice," Mrs Weasley said. "Where are the twins, Ronnie?"

Ronnie shrugged. "Dunno. But Percy is locked in his room and Ginnie is still asleep." He made a face. "She's a girl and she still has naps," he told Harry.

"And Charlie and Bill are setting up outside." She flicked a quick smile Snape's way. "I thought we'd eat out under the trees as there's so many of us. Why don't you show Harry your room, dear, and see if you can find the twins."

"Come on, Harry," Ronnie said, running for the stairs.

Harry cast a look at his dad and Snape inclined his head. "Behave yourself, Harry."

"Yes, daddy," Harry said, and then he was rushing headlong to the stairs and noisily following the youngest Weasley son.

Snape glanced around the crowded space, trying to keep the disdain off his face. Honestly, he felt as if he could have described this place perfectly accurately without stepping foot here, just from knowing the Weasleys he had already met. Cheerful chaos, the kind magical families thrived on, the kind that magic itself seemed to thrive on and that drove Snape nuts. The house didn't seem to have a straight line or an level edge, even its walls meandered carelessly around, higher in some places, wood meeting brick, openings too low to be windows but too high to be doors.

He became aware of the silence in the room and looked up to see Mrs Weasley surveying him, her fingers twisting rather nervously in her apron pocket. Snape found himself surprised. After the fearless way she had bearded him in his den over Harry he wouldn't have expected her to be anything less than wholly confident here, in her own home.

And yet her eyes were darting away from his and her voice when she spoke was high and nervous. "Er, Arthur has to work I'm afraid, although he'll try to get off early for the end of the party."

Snape was amused. What on earth was she in such a flap about? Him? He wrapped his cloak a little more tightly around his shoulders and drew himself up, as if unwilling to allow any of himself to touch the space around him. To his delight she only looked more nervous.

"I, er, I expect you'd like a cup of tea?" she ventured.

Snape assumed a disparaging expression and lifted one brow. "Tea?" he repeated coolly.

"I have coffee!" she squeaked.

This was fun! This was almost as much fun as sneering at students and making first year girls cry! Wondering what kind of scowl he could pull from his arsenal next Snape surveyed the flustered witch down the length of his crooked nose. Perhaps the day wouldn't be a total loss after all?

And then Dumbledore showed up and ruined all his fun.

888

As usual the thin old wizard seemed to fill all the available space around him as he made himself at home at the worn table and plonked his hat down next to him.

"Do sit down, Severus," he said cheerfully. "What are you looming about over there for?"

"Tea, Professor?" Mrs Weasley said gratefully, laying out some mugs. Dumbledore grinned.

"Lovely. Severus?"

Snape loomed stiffly for a moment longer before giving in with a sigh and sitting down. "Milk, no sugar," he said sullenly.

Mrs Weasley was all smiles now as she bustled around and Snape accepted his tea and blew on it, still wondering what had flustered the woman so. Anyone would think he was naturally intimidating!

Dumbledore took a sip of tea and gave a huge happy sigh. "Lovely!" he pronounced again. "What a fine day we're going to have!"

888

Harry sat on Ronnie's bed and gazed at the Quidditch players zooming in and out of the posters on the walls. "I could watch this all day," he murmured, eyes following one bold seeker as he caught the snitch and held it up triumphantly.

"It gets a bit dull after a while," Ronnie assured him, climbing up next to Harry and settling back against the headboard. "It's not a very big room but at least I don't have to share it. The twins share, but Ginny has her own room now, even if she is just a baby."

"It must be weird having a sister," Harry said absently, leaning over and touching a lamp by the bed. The outside swung around and little cut out shapes flashed past. Harry could make out pumpkins and broomsticks and cats.

"That's not mine!" Ronnie said hastily. "I just get stuck with all the old junk my big brothers don't want any more."

"I think it's cool," Harry said admiringly. "Must look great with the light off."

"You really think it's cool?" Ronnie said uncertainly.

"I think this whole place is cool!" Harry assured him. He jumped off the bed and rushed to the window, holding the sill and looking out over the sprawling front yard littered with fascinating looking items and the occasional chicken, scratching in the dirt.

"I suppose anywhere'd look good after living in a dungeon," someone drawled from the door and Harry looked up to see a red headed boy leaning up against the jamb. Then he blinked in amazement because the same boy appeared behind the first and winked at him.

"You look just the same!" Harry exclaimed. He turned to Ron. "Twins!"

"And we thought muggle born's didn't know anything!" the other twin said, coming into the room and throwing himself on the edge of the bed.

"He's not a muggle born," Ronnie said indignantly. "And you know it, George. His mum and dad were wizards."

"My dad is still a wizard," Harry interjected anxiously.

"I heard he was a vampire and he lived in a dungeon," the twin in the doorway said. "And he sucks the blood of students who don't pass their exams."

"Then Charlie wouldn't have any blood left at all!" Ronnie said and exploded into giggles. George joined him and the twin in the doorway snickered.

"My dad is not a vampire!" Harry said indignantly. "He's a wizard and a professor and he makes potions too! So there!"

"Well I heard he was a vampire that flew down and kidnapped you from the evil muggles who had you locked in their dungeon," George said curiously. "Did he, Harry? Did he fly?"

"He did not fly," Harry said, fists clenching. "He took a bus! And he's not a vampire either so you better take that back or I'll punch you in the nose!"

"Better punch two noses then, shrimp."

"Stop it Fred!" Ronnie exclaimed. "Don't pick on him just because he's my friend!" Ronnie joined Harry by the window. "Just ignore them, Harry," he said firmly. "They're always saying dumb things. You wait till I tell mum on you!" he warned the twins.

"Tattle tale," Fred said, poking his tongue out.

"You take it back!" Harry said again, unwilling to let it go. No one was going to say bad things about his dad and get away with it. He didn't care if there were two of them, he'd faced half a dozen bullies at a time before, when he couldn't run fast enough to get away from them. He could take on these two now.

"All right, all right," George said in a lazy tone from the bed. "Quit it, Fred, leave the nipper alone. It's his birthday after all."

"Do you take it back?" Harry demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, we take it back. No one really said he was a vampire. But he did kidnap you from those evil muggles, right?"

Harry subsided, not quite ready to forgive this cheeky pair their rudeness. "He just took me away from them, that's all," he said stiffly.

"But they were evil, right?" Fred said eagerly. "Dad said he read all this stuff in muggle newspapers about them, and then mum shushed him and we tried to get a look at the papers but mum burned them in the fire. But she was ever so upset, wasn't she, George?"

"Mum's a bit soft sometimes," George agreed. "She gets upset easily. But she called those muggles that had you evil folk, and that's strong words for our mum."

Harry frowned curiously. "Why would I be in a newspaper?"

George and Fred exchanged a look and then glanced at Ronnie. "Cos you're Harry Potter, of course," George finally said. "Harry Potter."

"What are you two dunderheads going on about?" Another red headed boy that Harry didn't know appeared in the doorway. He was taller and his hair stood up in a shock. "Oh," he said, spotting Harry by the window. "Hello and happy birthday." He glanced around at the boys ranged around the room and his expression grew suspicious. "You weren't fighting, were you?"

"This is Percy," Fred said, jerking his thumb at the newcomer.

Harry forgot his puzzlement and stared at Ronnie in amazement. "How many brothers do you have anyway?"

"More than you have fingers to count them on, ickle Harry," George said, bounding off the bed and pushing by Percy in the doorway. "I'm going down to help mum carry the party food outside. Coming, Fred?"

"You just want to get your fingers in the meringues!" Percy accused, staggering back as Fred pushed past him and rushed after his twin. "Hey!" And then he was off after them, his shirt tail flapping behind him.

Ronnie returned Harry's incredulous stare with a world weary shrug. "It's always like this around here," he sighed. "You get used to it."

"Um, are there really meringues?"

Ronnie grinned, his freckles dancing. "Not if we don't get down there fast! Race you!"

888

Neville was the next to arrive, with his grandmother and the famous Great Uncle Algy. Uncle Algy had a red face and a moustache that made him look rather like a walrus, but he had a hearty booming laugh and a big broad smile as well. Harry liked him instantly.

"Did you get your broomstick, Harry?" Neville asked anxiously as the first greetings were over and the boys huddled together in the corner. The adults were all sitting and drinking tea around the big old table.

"Uh huh," Harry confirmed proudly. "And I flew all around this morning, my dad showed me how. Did you get one too, Neville?"

"No, I didn't want one," Neville reminded him. "I don't like high places, you know that, Harry."

Unable to imagine how anyone wouldn't want to fly a broom, Harry just shrugged.

"What did you get then?" Ronnie asked curiously.

Neville puffed up his chest proudly. "A bicycle!"

Ronnie frowned and the twins, lurking nearby hooted. "A bicycle?" One of them said incredulously. "Little trike was it?"

A little incredulous himself Harry wrapped a conspiratorial arm around Neville's shoulder and glared at the twins. "Ignore them, Neville," he said firmly. "I always wanted a bike myself." Before I heard of broomsticks, he amended in his head.

"It has two wheels," Neville assured Harry and Ronnie, with a nervous glance at the twins. "And it's blue and shiny with a big silver bell."

Actually that did sound interesting. "A bell?" Harry repeated a little enviously. He wondered if he could put a bell on his Brightfeather.

"I've never ridden a bicycle," Ronnie said eagerly. "But one of our neighbours has one and it looks like fun. Can you ride it, Neville?"

"Uncle Algy showed me how this morning," Neville said proudly. "He said he wasn't going to give it to me because Gran said it was a muggle toy but Uncle Algy said that when Mr Lupin told him about me bouncing down the stairs last term he stopped worrying about me being a squib and so I could have a muggle toy. It used to be his when he was a boy."

"What's a squib?" Ronnie asked curiously and Harry nodded, glad this was something someone else didn't know as well.

Neville shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "But everyone used to think I was one. Must have something to do with bouncing."

"Maybe they were afraid you'd fall off the bike?" Harry suggested. "But now they know you'll bounce if you do?"

"That must be it," Neville agreed and Ronnie nodded.

"You're lucky," the red head sighed. "I wish I had my own broomstick or bike."

"You can ride my bike, if you want," Neville said generously. "If you come visit us at Hogwarts. Gran said I can leave it there in term time."

"Hey, you can ride and I'll fly over the top of you!" Harry said excitedly.

"Sounds pants to me," one of the twins drawled but Harry turned his back on him and made a gruesome face at Ronnie and Neville. They laughed, Neville covering his mouth with his hand and looking a trifle guilty.

"Some people won't get a ride," Harry said loudly. "Or a go with the silver bell."

"Boys!" Mrs Weasley called. "Time to go outside and start lunch!"

888

As a boy Snape could remember the feeling of being an observer rather than a participant. Outside of things looking in. Never really a part of what was going on.

He couldn't remember ever caring about it too much - even then most of the things that happened to other people seemed of little interest next to his own goals and ambitions.

But he could remember what it felt like, being the observer, the witness. And, sometimes, the spy.

Never more clearly than today, when he sat mutely as Harry and Neville's party carried on around him. The children infected each other with excitement, the adults sat and looked on with benign smiles as the chaos roiled around them. The whole party sat around tables under the huge spreading tree, there was food and drink and eventually cake.

Harry looked to him now and then, ran to him to show off a gift, smilingly handed him a piece of outrageously iced cake, but he didn't seem to expect too much more, and for that Snape felt grateful. Harry had been given so little in life so far that he was happy to accept anything he was given now. Which was just as well, because in this setting Snape didn't feel he had too much more to give.

After cake and presents the boys ran off to play, boundless in their energy. The youngest Weasley gamely followed after them, red pig tails bobbing as she tried to catch up. The three youngest boys all wore capes covered with moons and stars, a gift from Molly Weasley. Harry and Ron had also fashioned wands out of sticks and were even now dueling with them, darting around like swordsmen, thrusting and parrying.

"That's enough, boys!" Mrs Weasley scolded, scattering them like hens as she flapped her apron at them. "It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye! And I don't have any spares!"

"Enjoying yourself?" Lupin asked dryly, dragging a chair over and planting it next to Snape's.

"Until now," Snape returned without heat. The day was nearly over and he glanced at the dipping sun, willing it to descend more quickly.

"Only from where we were sitting you looked more like the spectre at the feast." Remus shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, Severus, you could have at least tried to join in. For Harry's sake."

Snape suppressed a yawn and covered his mouth politely with one hand. "Don't worry about Harry, Lupin. He's having the time of his life."

Remus shrugged irritably, hunching his shoulders and staring moodily down the end of the garden where the boys were all huddled together.

"But I do worry about Harry," he said glumly. "On this day of all days I can't help thinking about... them."

"Then do your thinking elsewhere," Snape ordered sharply. "I have no idea why you think I wish to hear your maudlin sentiments-"

"I'm not being maudlin!" Lupin defended hotly. "I just can't help thinking about Lily and James today-"

"That's your prerogative!" Snape snapped back. "Just don't inflict it on me!"

Lupin stared at him angrily. "You see! This is what worries me. I can't even mention James's name without you going off the deep end!"

"Doesn't stop you doing it though, does it?"

"You have no idea how over the top your reaction to him is, do you?" Lupin continued relentlessly. "I barely mentioned him to Harry that time and you flew off the handle."

"How many ways can I say I don't want to talk about that arrogant fool Potter?" Snape beseeched to the sky above him. He turned back to the angry tutor. "Look, if I move my chair over there will you promise not to follow me?"

"Like I promised not to talk about James with Harry? You can't keep the past buried forever, Severus."

"You've no idea how deep I'm willing to dig."

Lupin shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand you," he finally said. "If you hated them so much, why did you do it? Why on earth did you help them create Harry?"

"Did you think if you pushed me far enough you could goad me into telling you that?" Snape asked, genuinely curious. "Put it out of your mind, Lupin, once and for all. There is one person on earth who has the right to ask me that question and expect an answer, and when Harry does ask, and he will - I will tell him the truth." Snape shrugged carelessly. "Maybe he'll tell you then, hmm?"

"Did you care about them at all?" Remus whispered. "James and Lily? I've thought sometimes that you must have cared a little, for one of them."

Snape snorted in black amusement. "Thought I was harbouring some deep passion for Lily did you? Or Potter? My beloved enemy sort of thing?" Snape snorted again, almost chuckling at the thought. "You've been reading too many gothic romances, dear tutor. No, I didn't care about them, as you so sweetly put it. In fact I despised him and was mostly indifferent to her. And now all I feel for them is contempt."

Lupin shook his head, looking ill. "Why, for goodness sake?"

"When they came to me and begged me to help them they made me certain promises," Snape said bitterly. "They broke them all. When they made Harry they took on the responsibility of his life. And they let him down."

"They died protecting him!"

"They should have done a better job protecting him," Snape shot back. "Because of them I've taken up a responsibility I should never have had to bear, that I had no desire to bear. And because of that Harry's lived the life he's lived and now he's living this life. This is not how it was meant to be for Harry. This is not who I am supposed to be."

Lupin's brow creased, his expression puzzled. "I don't understand you," he said again. "You love Harry, you dote on him. Any fool can see that."

"I'll take your word as a fool for that," Snape couldn't resist saying.

"I notice you don't deny it though."

"I believe it's a Gryffindor trait to bleed emotions all over the place," Snape retorted distastefully. "But we're in public now, Lupin, so try to show a little restraint, please?"

"But you do care for the boy," Remus persisted. "Why talk about him as if he was some onerous duty you had to fulfill?"

Snape looked away, assuming a bored expression. "It's probably a Gryffindor trait to assume the world well lost for love too. What do feelings matter? Harry's mine. But don't you firmly believe he'd be better off if he weren't?"

Lupin opened his mouth and then closed it again, biting his lip.

"Exactly," Snape smirked. "Every time you take me to task for my fatherhood skills you say as much. And you're right, he would be, there's no doubt about it. Forget my dubious parenting abilities, his very life is in danger now because of me. Don't you think I have the right to a little bitterness towards them?"

There was a silence between them for long moments, broken only by the excited cries of the children at play in the distance.

"I don't think you're a bad father," Remus finally said quietly.

"Oh good," Snape said sarcastically. "That was really keeping me up nights."

"I do think you're an arrogant, introverted, cynical greasy-"

"-cowardly, sycophantic obsequious." Snape flicked him a polite glance. "Sorry, wasn't it my turn? You know, all told I think I prefer the insulting loud mouth Gryffindor to the bleeding heart wallowing in the past. So much more true to form."

"Maybe that's my problem," Lupin said slyly. "I preferred the devious slimy Slytherin to the doting father. At least I knew where I was with him."

"I really must object to the word 'doting," Snape said mildly.

"What would you call it?"

"Dutiful," Snape said primly.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder and he jumped.

"Good to see you boys getting on so well," Dumbledore beamed at them both and for one moment Lupin and Snape were in perfect accord as they both grimaced at being called boys. "Molly's calling the children back for some lemonade and biscuits. Why don't you join us?"

"More food?" Snape said in amazement. "Who could possibly eat more..." His memory caught up with his mouth and he broke off. "Never mind."

"Six months and you're already an expert on children," Dumbledore joked and Lupin smirked at Snape behind the old wizard's back.

888

"Muggles play hide and seek too?" Percy said in amazement. "Fancy that."

"Who's 'it'?"

"Bill," Charlie volunteered. "He's oldest." He dragged his foot around in a circle in the dirt. "And this is 'home'. Make it home before Bill tags you or you're it next time. All right?"

"And don't leave the garden!" Mrs Weasley called from her chair under the huge spreading tree. The adults were all sitting in deck chairs now, relaxing in the dappled shade.

"You hear that, Fred? George?" Bill said sharply. "No cheating or you're out."

"We don't need to cheat," Fred said amiably. He grinned at Harry. "We're just that good."

"Good at cheating," Ronnie muttered.

Bill whistled to start and then covered his eyes, counting loudly. Ginny had shrilly insisted on staying with Bill so she was next to him, peeping through her fingers. Ronnie and Percy and Charlie and the twins tore right off but Neville and Harry stood nervously, unsure of where to go. Bill had reached ten before Harry's feet began working and he tore around the side of the house, eyes darting around. Where to hide? The Weasley's knew this place like the back of their hands, freckles and all, but to Harry it was all new.

Still, all he had to do was stay hidden long enough for Bill to go by him, then he could break for home. A nearby hedge was soft and green and Harry carefully checked for spiky bits before wriggling into its depths. This had been a favoured hiding spot from Dudley and his pals back in Privet Drive, because everyone had hedges and a lot of them were quite hollow inside.

Harry pulled the leaves back behind him and squatted in the dim recesses of the hedge, ears straining for Bill's footsteps. Something brushed against his hand and Harry jumped a mile and opened his mouth to cry out, just stopping himself in time.

A small green snake was nudging him, its head waving.

"lo," it whispered and Harry stared in surprise, panic forgotten.

"What?" he whispered back.

"I said hello," the snake hissed, winding itself forward. It was actually quite a long snake, Harry realised, as it slid out of the depths of greenery. "What are you doing?"

Harry blinked behind his glasses and looked around, wondering if someone was playing a trick on him. But it had definitely been the snake talking to him, in fact it was looking quite impatient as it lifted its head a little higher and swayed.

"Well, if you're going to be like that," it said huffily, turning as if to go.

"No!" Harry hissed, bending his head down closer. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to be quiet. I'm hiding."

"Ahh." The snake's tongue flickered across its mouth. "Me too. I like the sun most days, but not when I hear those big'uns rumbling about out there. It's not safe then."

"Big'uns?" Harry repeated, fascinated by the wonderful low drawl of the snake's voice.

The snake nodded its head at Harry a few times. "Like you," he hissed. "Except they don't talk to me, they just try and catch me. I'm too quick for them though," it added proudly.

"Why don't you bite them?"

The snake flickered his tongue again. "Yuck," it said disdainfully. "They probably taste as bad as they smell!"

Harry snickered into his hand and the snake huffed a hissing chuckle of its own.

"Do I smell?" Harry wondered and the snake lowered its head and flicked its tongue over Harry's hand.

"A good smell," it decided. "Like a snake, only with two legs."

"I thought snakes were slimy and wet," Harry said, boldly lifting his free hand and stroking the snakes green scales. "But you're not slimy at all! You're lovely and warm and dry."

The snake swiveled its head and flicked its tongue again. "Someone's coming," it hissed and Harry made himself smaller and held his breath. Through the leaves he could make out Bill's tall form walking towards the hedge and he tensed, ready to try to break for home. But then two red headed shapes pounded up behind Bill shrieking with laughter, and with a cry Bill turned and chased them.

"Whew," the snake hissed. "Guess you're not going to get eaten after all. Bit of luck there."

"He wasn't going to eat me," Harry attempted to explain, but the snake was already coiling away.

"See you," it hissed and Harry called a quiet good bye after it, letting his hand trail down its back as strong muscles worked beneath its skin to propel it back into the green darkness.

Then the hedge was shaking and a big hand reached for Harry.

"Got you!" Bill called triumphantly, but like a snake himself Harry was ducking and slithering away, breaking free of the hedge and dodging grasping fingers.

"Not yet!" he yelled, forgetting the snake in the break for freedom. He belted for the circle of home where Ronnie and the twins already waited, leaning over the mark in the dirt and egging him on.

"Run, Harry!" Ronnie hooted, but Bill's long legs were too much and he caught Harry by the shoulder.

"Tag! You're it!" Bill called and the Weasleys broke out of the circle and were off again.

"Who's ready for a nice cold drink and a biscuit?" Mrs Weasley called and instantly a dozen pairs of legs veered towards her, play forgotten.

888

"So, Harry," Charlie said, chewing vigourously on his ginger snap. "What was it like living with muggles?"

Harry shrugged, applying himself to his own biscuit. "Don't really remember," he mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs.

"Our dad likes muggles," Ronnie chimed in. "He collects plugs."

"What sort of plugs?" Harry asked curiously.

Ronnie looked nonplussed. "What sorts are there?"

"Lots I think." Harry frowned and absently licked some chocolate from his chocolate chip biscuit off his finger. "There's bath plugs and electric plugs, and um, spark plugs, I saw them on TV..."

"What's TV?" Percy interrupted.

Now Harry was stumped. How did you explain TV?

"It's like stories," he said vaguely. "That people act out and you watch it on this box thing. Cartoons were my favourite, you'd like them," he told Ronnie earnestly. Neville nodded, he'd heard all this before.

"I miss it sometimes," Harry continued. "But broomsticks are better. And dragons and castles and living with my dad."

The children sitting around him grew quiet, except for Ginny who was demanding another biscuit and Bill who was trying to wipe her sticky fingers with his hanky before handing her one.

"Um," Charlie said into the silence. "Is it really better?" He cast a look over at Snape, sitting back at the table with the adults, sipping a cup of tea. There seemed to be a lot of things he wanted to say, did Charlie Weasley, but he contented himself with the question again. "Is it really better? With him?"

Harry nodded fervently. "I have my own bedroom and my own things."

Charlie nodded. "I can see how that would appeal," he said, with the world weary cynicism of a sibling of six. "Did you have to share your room when you lived with the muggles then?"

Harry looked from his interested face to the twins curious expressions. He bit his lip. Suddenly he didn't want to be having this conversation, didn't want to be talking about the Dursleys. Not amongst these children with their cheerful crowded rooms and their cheerful hugging mother. He felt a prickle of something like shame when he remembered the cupboard and the box of hand-me-down clothes and the old mattress on the floor. Would the twins laugh if they knew that the only toys Harry had played with back then were the ones Dudley had chucked out because of a snapped arm or a missing wheel?

Miserably Harry looked down at the crumbling biscuit in his hand, aware that the silence was stretching again, and that everyone was waiting for an answer. Even little Ginny was staring at him, lemonade from her mug dripping down her front.

Then a hand was resting on his head, ruffling his hair gently.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Bill said kindly and Harry looked up gratefully into his lean understanding face. "What about some more lemonade, hey? That's if Fred hasn't scoffed the lot."

"There's plenty here!" Fred shot back then poked out his tongue. "Ginny's the one wasting it."

"Am not!" Ginny said indignantly.

"Baby has to have a mug," George taunted and Ginny screwed her face up.

"Mum!" she wailed. "Twins are pickin' on me!"

Harry sat bemusedly as Bill poured him some more lemonade and dropped him a kind wink. Around him Weasleys happened, and inside him his prickling shame drifted away. Bill was soothing Ginny and Charlie was trying to tickle Fred and George at the same time and Ronnie was cheering him on. Neville scooted out of the way of flailing limbs and moved a bit closer to him and Harry was glad to have his friend lean against his arm and raise his eyebrows in worried dismay at the feuding bunch.

"All right you lot!" Mrs Weasley roared. "Pack it in right now or it's bed for the lot of you!"

"It's all right, mum," Bill called over. "I'll keep them in line." He grinned again and Harry shot him an admiring look, noticing suddenly how tall the bigger boy was. Ronnie was very lucky to have a big brother like Bill.

Of course, he also had big brothers like Fred and George, and Harry wasn't at all sure yet whether that was good thing.

888

"So, young fella," Algy Longbottom said, waving his glass at Snape. "Saw you made the newspaper again."

Snape shrugged, hoping to discourage the old wizard. He rather felt he'd put up with enough today, listening to Lupin.

"Bloody Daily Prophet." Algy took a drink and scowled behind his moustaches. "I write them a letter nearly every bloomin' week and they don't print it, then they put some holiday snap on the front page!"

"Language, Algy, please," Mrs Longbottom scolded. "Although I do agree with you about the Prophet. I hardly think a grainy picture of the Boy Who Lived on holiday constitutes front page news."

"It's not like everyone doesn't know he's been living at Hogwarts," Molly interjected. "I've had other parents writing to me about it all year, wondering if I'd heard the same stories they had."

"Even saw a muggle newspaper clipping," Algy boomed. "Old friend of mine sent me one." He turned to Mrs Weasley. "Their pictures don't even move, gel," he confided. "Can you imagine that?"

"I had a few folks ask me about the muggle news articles," Arthur Weasley said with authority. "They knew I worked with muggle artifacts and thought I might have seen them. As I said at the time, unless it explodes when unfolded or reads you when you try to read it I wouldn't have anything to do with muggle newspapers."

"Arthur went out and bought one in the end, didn't you, Arthur?" Molly said proudly.

"Found a muggle coin once," Arthur admitted modestly. "Called a pound, although I weighed it and I have to tell you it weighed nothing like as much as a pound."

"Muggles," Algy said in exasperation and Arthur nodded fondly.

"Always getting something wrong," he agreed.

"They said some awful things about Harry's aunt and uncle," Molly said in a hushed voice. "The muggle Aurors wanted to arrest them, but they hadn't enough evidence."

"Please men," Arthur corrected her. "Muggles don't have Aurors."

"Should have clapped them in irons," Algy boomed. He squinted at Snape. "I'm surprised you didn't curse them, young fella."

"The trouble with cursing muggles," Snape drawled. "Is that it's so hard to stop at just one."

"And the last thing Harry needed was his father in Azkaban," Dumbledore pointed out gently. "Which is where cursing muggles usually ends up, right, Arthur?"

"Well, it should," Arthur admitted. "But you'd be amazed at how many excuses people can come up with for it. For example, last week..."

He launched into some tedious story about his tedious job and Snape tuned him out, wondering how soon he could drag Harry away from this. He'd done his duty, Harry had had his party, and now Snape was looking forward to their nice quiet rooms and a long soak in the bath with the possibility of an early night.

The children had finished their snack and once again from around the house could be heard blood curdling yells and screams of laughter.

Snape amended his thought. Harry still sounded like he had energy to burn. Might as well let him burn it off here.

888

An hour later Snape was wishing he'd carried Harry away when he had the chance. Before the boy waved good bye to Neville and his family as they stepped into the fireplace. Before he chattered his good byes to the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix. Before he gave away a secret even his father hadn't known.

"How on earth did you get yourself so dirty, Harry?" Molly chided, brushing ineffectually at the boy's new jeans.

"Harry just has a knack, don't you, Harry?" Lupin teased, ruffling coal black waves.

Ronnie was knuckling his eyes and leaning up against Bill's legs, and the bigger boy was chuckling as Harry ducked away from the teasing hand.

"That's probably my fault," Bill admitted. "Harry was hiding in a hedge when we were playing. He nearly got away from me though!"

"I slithered like a snake," Harry boasted, arms full of presents, his new cloak still wrapped around his thin shoulders. "Like my friend the snake who was living in the hedge."

"You spotted a snake in our hedge, Harry?" Molly said, looking alarmed. "I hope you kept away from it, we've had adders around here before."

"Poisonous snakes," Snape explained as Harry looked up at him questioningly.

"Oh this snake wouldn't have bit me," Harry said confidently. "He was nice." The little boy wrinkled his nose and chuckled. "He said I smelled like a snake with two legs! Isn't that funny?"

Snape froze, something in his chest seizing, his eyes instantly flying to Dumbledore's.

Molly was chuckling and Lupin patted his shoulder.

"Talking snakes now is it, Harry? I hope you answered back."

"I did," Harry said, frowning a little as Bill and Charlie joined in the laughter.

"That's enough, Harry," Snape said sharply. "It's time we were going home."

"But I did answer him, daddy," Harry insisted and one by one the adults in the room stopped laughing. "We had a good chat and he let me pat him and everything."

Ronnie was still yawning and the twins and Percy were over by the fireplace, heads together, not paying attention. But Bill wasn't chuckling any more, his face had grown serious, his eyes on his mother and then darting to Harry and to Snape.

Lupin's hand clutched on Harry's shoulder and the little boy squirmed.

"Ouch," Harry protested.

"Oh, sorry, Harry," Lupin said automatically, his husky voice faltering.

"Professor Dumbledore," Molly said weakly, but Dumbledore held up one hand.

"There's a time and place for discussion, Molly, and this isn't it." He glanced at a solemn Bill and a confused looking Charlie, then his eyes met Snape's once more. There was no twinkle in them now, they were deadly serious. "You understand that, Severus. The need for discussion."

Snape thrust his hand in his pocket and clutched at a handful of Floo powder. With a flick of the wrist he flung it into the fire and the flames seemed to exhale and turned green. For a moment it was as if the occupants of the cosy little room were under water, flickering green flames lit up their faces, painting sinister shadows on concern.

"You know where to find us," Snape said coldly. He lifted Harry, armful of gifts and all. "Close your eyes, Harry," he ordered. Then he stepped into the fire and left them all behind.

888

"What was that about birthday hugs, Harry?" Snape asked as he tucked a clean and yawning Harry into bed.

Harry looked a little self conscious. "Everyone used to hug Dudley so much on his birthday he complained they were squeezing his bones!" The boy frowned a little. "Course Dudley complained about everything," he added.

"No doubt," Snape said dryly. "Birthday hugs, hmm? I'm not sure that's an entirely muggle tradition but it is one I'm unfamiliar with."

"Oh," Harry said, fingers fiddling with the tasseled counterpane.

Snape held out his arms. "Show me," he commanded and Harry's mouth turned up and he fairly leapt up and wrapped thin arms around his father's neck. Snape caught him and held him close. "How's that?" he murmured and Harry nodded his tousled head.

"You're definitely squeezing my bones," he said in satisfied tones.

Snape loosened his hold a little and tucked the boy back snugly under the light summer covers. "That's another new thing I've learned," he said, smoothing the cool cotton carefully. He tried to keep his expression casual. "So, you chatted with a snake, did you?"

"Was that okay?" Harry said hesitantly. "Everyone was really funny about it. You're not mad are you?"

"I'm not mad," Snape said honestly. "I'm just curious. Was this a real chat, Harry, or a pretend one?"

"It was really real," Harry insisted. "Don't all wizards talk to snakes then, daddy?" he asked innocently.

Snape brushed back a lock of hair, thumb brushing the pink crooked scar.

"Only the very special ones," he answered, just as honestly.