December 24th, 1991:

Sometime in the wee small hours of the morning, Harry woke with a pounding headache and an urgent need to find the nearest bathroom. But when he tossed off his covers and tried to stand up, he found his left leg wouldn’t hold his weight, and he fell back onto the bed with a thump and gave a yelp of surprise and pain.

That woke Severus, who was sleeping just in the next room, and had left a lamp on in Harry’s room. The Potions Master jerked up from the bed and ran into Harry’s room. “Harry? What happened? Did you fall?”

He found his son sitting on his bed, grimacing and holding his knee. “I don’t remember hurting my knee. I can’t walk, Papa,” he told him, a note of panic rising in his voice.

Severus hurried over to him. “Why were you trying to get out of bed, son?”

Harry flushed. “I . . .err . . .need the bathroom. And my head hurts again.”

“You sprained your knee quite badly. I mended it as best I could, but you shouldn’t walk on it. You’re seeing a Healer as soon as we get back to the manor,” Severus said, thinking worriedly that the concussion must have been worse than he’d thought. “For now, I can give you a shoulder. Or better yet, I’ll just carry you.”

“No, I can walk if you’ll help me!” Harry protested, then he squeaked when Severus plucked him off the bed as easily as if he weighed nothing and carried him across the hall to the single bathroom. Harry was not a large eleven-year-old, he had not gotten his growth spurt yet, and he had often skipped meals at school, especially when he was trying to cram last month, so he was lighter than an average child his age. And Severus was very strong from hauling about cauldrons and stirring mixtures for hours on end, though his lean frame didn’t show it as much.

“I’ll be back in three minutes,” Severus said, setting his son down in front of the toilet.

Harry just nodded, his face red. This is what comes of flying in a snowstorm, you bloody imbecile, he scolded himself roundly, leaning against the wall for a moment. He sure as hell wouldn’t be doing that again anytime soon.

Severus returned after three minutes as promised and carried Harry back to bed. “Here, take some more Headache Remedy,” the Potions Master handed Harry another vial of the green solution.

Harry did, grimacing at the taste, but it was better than the Pain Reliever. That one nearly made him gag. Afterwards, Severus helped him lie down, and propped up his bad knee with pillows. Harry was wide awake, though, and couldn’t fall back to sleep. His eyes went to the window, where snow was drifting lazily through the air.

It was then that he saw his Phoenix standing in the corner, whole and unharmed. “My broom!” he gasped. “It’s not broken!”

Severus shook his head. “Somehow it survived the crash. Save for a few bent and splintered twigs, but those are easily repaired. You were lucky, Harry. Very lucky.”

“I know,” Harry said feelingly. He would never forget the moment just before he slammed into the tree, it had been a split second of dreadful fear and shock and then nothing until he woke up and saw his father looking down on him. He had never been so relieved to see anyone in his whole life. He wriggled a bit, trying to get comfortable. It was hard, because he was bruised all over, but at last he managed to find a semi-comfortable position, lying half on his side, facing Severus.

“Do you need a Cushioning Charm on the bed?”

“Uh . . .yeah.”

Severus cast it in two seconds.

Harry sighed happily as the bed became soft like a cloud. He relaxed, but even then still couldn’t fall asleep. So he decided to ask Severus a question that had been bugging him ever since the quarrel that morning. “Have you written that letter to Professor Malfoy yet, Papa?”

Severus shook his head. “Not yet. Why? I wish to give her a good piece of my mind, young man, and don’t even try and convince me otherwise. Her first responsibility should be her students’ academics, not Quidditch.”

“I know that,” Harry said softly, not wanting to start another quarrel. “I’m sorry I screwed up, sir. But . . .would you consider not telling her to pull me off the team altogether? I mean, I know it’s what I deserve, but Johnny is going to come back and play next term, so I’ll just be Reserve Seeker again, and go to practice and watch the game mostly. So . . .would you maybe ask her to put me on . . .umm . . .I can’t think of the word . . .”

“Suspension? Probation?” Severus suggested.

“Probation . . .yeah that’s it. So will you? Please?” He gave his father his most pleading look. “I promise you on my wizard’s honor that I will study hard and get top marks next term, and I’m really sorry I said I hated you and swore at you.”

“I still owe you a minute with a bar of soap for that, young man,” Severus said sternly.

Harry made a face. He hadn’t gotten a mouthwashing since he was four, but he knew he deserved it and so didn’t protest. “Will you think on it? I really love Quidditch and I don’t want to give it up forever.”

Severus took a seat on the edge of the bed and said, “I never said you had to give it up forever, Harry. I said you needed to be pulled because you couldn’t handle your academic workload and play at the same time based on this term’s grades. However, I will request that she put you on probation for two months, and monitor your grades closely during that time. If you do well and don’t seem overwhelmed, you may play in a few games as needed.”

“Thanks, sir.” Harry grinned.

“But only if you keep your grades up. That is non-negotiable.” Severus added.

“No, really?”

“None of your cheek, boy!” he half-scolded, rapping Harry’s head lightly with his hand.

“You know, you’d make a good professor,” his son remarked, grinning like a mischievous imp.

Severus looked horrified. “Merlin forbid! Someone would end up dead before a week went by. Probably me, from having a stroke dealing with a classroom full of impudent disobedient brats like you.”

“Nah. You’d have all of us whipped into shape in three days.”

Severus snorted. “I have all I can manage with one of you, wretched imp. Besides, I am perfectly content as a researcher and inventor of new potions, and manager of Prince Labs.”

“And you make better money too.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “How do you know what a teacher’s salary is?”

Harry shrugged. “I asked Professor Malfoy. She told me she’s not teaching for the paycheck that’s for sure.”

“I wouldn’t think so. The Ministry doesn’t pay professors nearly enough for all the aggravation they put up with. Which is why I would never choose it as a profession.”

“I still think you’d make a good teacher. I mean, you taught Blaise, Nev, and me potions before we were in school and we still remember how to brew all of them.”

“Let me put it another way. Would you want me overseeing your every move during school like I do when you’re home?”

“No! Forget I said anything,” Harry said quickly. If Severus were a professor at Hogwarts, he would probably be spending all his free time studying or in detention. Or getting bawled out in front of everyone in the Great Hall.

“That’s what I thought, imp,” Severus chuckled evilly. “Now, close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Close them anyway,” he ordered, familiar with this argument.

Harry obeyed, and no sooner had he done so, he was asleep. Severus tucked the covers about him before ruffling his hair affectionately and whispering, “Sleep well, my son.”

Then he glided out of the room, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

* * * * * *

When Severus returned to the house with Harry in his arms, they found Foxfire Hall in a bit of an uproar. They were met as soon as they crossed the threshold by an anxious Hotspur. “Oh, Master Sev, you have found the young master!” were the first words out of the elf’s mouth. His grin was so wide it nearly reached his pointed ears. “Lina and I were so worried.” He then turned a reproving glare on the young master. “Master Harry, please do not scare us that way again. Lina stayed up all night scrubbing pots and crying, saying she would have never left you alone in the attic had she known you would be so reckless.”

Now Harry felt terribly guilty for making the two elves worry so much and he hung his head. “I’m sorry, Hotspur. I was so upset I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to make Lina cry . . .I never thought she would miss me that much, especially since I’m not really a Prince by blood . . .”

“You will be after the adoption,” Severus reassured, hoping that would take care of any lingering doubts Harry had about belonging to the family.

Hotspur shook a finger at the young wizard. “The Green Man grant me patience! You are as stubborn as milord Augustus, young master! You have been a part of this family since you were a baby, and Lord Augustus called you his great-grandson. That will never change, simply because you have learned of your birth heritage. You are who you always were, Little One, for love binds more than blood. That is a truth we elves learned long ago. I would not be here now and serve this family did I not love you as heartkin. Nor would Lina. Silly wizards, all this fuss and nonsense over names! Call yourself Potter or Snape, Master Harry, but Foxfire Hall shall always be your home, for love binds you even as it does me.”

Harry and Severus remained with their mouths hanging open, for that was the longest speech they had ever heard from quiet Hotspur.

Abruptly the elf cleared his throat and said, “May I take your cloaks, Masters? Master Harry, you looked like a tree pummeled you, and could use a cup of tea. Master Sev, milord Augustus depleted his powers severely last night controlling that blizzard, but he would insist he is fine and refuses to rest, even after he nearly fell out of his chair this morning at breakfast.” Hotspur said, sounding very exasperated. “Would you please speak with him? He could do himself great harm unless he rests, the stubborn old—” the elf broke off abruptly, having been conditioned to never speak ill of his master.

Severus looked very alarmed and hurried inside. He placed Harry on the comfortable couch in the drawing room and said, “Stay here. I’m going to call Healer Faolin to examine you both.”

Healer Faolin was Harry’s pediatrician, she had been taking care of him since he was a baby, she had seen him through dragon pox and vaccinations and several sprains and a broken arm, he liked her.

Severus tossed down Floo powder and stuck his head into the green flames, after first calling, “Healer Faolin’s office!”

The plump Healer happened to be standing next to the fireplace at that particular moment, and she greeted Severus by name. “Why hello, Severus! You look frazzled, what’s wrong with Harry this time?”

“He had an accident with his broom,” Severus said, and detailed Harry’s injuries. “And my grandfather overspent himself calming that snowstorm last night so I could find my son and I’d like you to take a look at him, if you would?”

“Not a problem, Severus. Just let me finish with my last patient’s vaccinations and I’ll pop right over.” The Healer said cheerfully, then she bustled away and Severus withdrew his head from the flames.

“Now to deal with your grandfather,” he said to his son. He turned around to find Harry with his face in his hands, crying softly. “What’s the matter? Is it your knee? Your head? Harry, please answer me!” Severus shook his shoulder gently, alarmed. His son hardly ever cried when he was injured, unless he was in agony. “Harry!”

Harry lifted his face a half-an-inch from his palms and whispered, “It’s all my fault.”

“What? Harry, look at me, I can’t understand you.”

Harry lifted his head, swiping away the tears with his sleeve before Severus could stop him. “It’s all my fault and now Grandpa might die because of me!” The thought was so awful that he started to tear up again.

“What’s all your fault?”

“That Grandpa drained his magical core because he was trying to stop the blizzard,” Harry wailed. “If . . .I hadn’t run away he wouldn’t have done it and now he could die and it’s my fault!”

Severus stared at his son for a long moment and then he said, “Harry, stop crying and listen to me. Don’t blame yourself for the choices others make. Yes, you did a very stupid thing flying out into a snowstorm, but nobody twisted your grandpa’s arm to use his Elemental powers to halt it. That was his choice and he knew what the risks were. Just as it was my choice to go seeking you instead of calling the Ministry Search and Rescue team. And where in Merlin’s name did you get the idea that Grandpa’s dying?”

“B-because we learned in Charms that if you overspend your magical core you could die,” Harry sniffled.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Severus groaned. “Here, quit sniffling all over.” He gave Harry a handkerchief. “Yes, that’s true, but that only happens if you’ve been fighting or using strong magic for days on end without rest or an untrained wizard casts a spell beyond their skill level and it takes too much magic from him. Your grandfather meets none of those criteria. An Elemental Master can draw upon reserves from the earth to keep from getting to that point. If he was as bad as that, Hotspur would have summoned me immediately, and rushed him to St. Mungos. Healer Faolin will know more when she sees him.”

Harry blew his nose. “You sure?”

“Yes. Would you like to go and see for yourself?” asked Severus.

“Yes, please.”

“All right.” Severus suspected he’d find Augustus in his study at this time of the morning, and he picked up Harry and carried him upstairs. “Son, you need to stop blaming yourself for things that are beyond your control.”

“I’ll try,” Harry said, scrubbing his face with the handkerchief so Augustus wouldn’t know he’d been crying.

As Severus had predicted Augustus was in his study, trying to go over the monthly accounts. But he was quite drained from battling the storm last night and kept nodding off over the ledgers. Mystic was asleep on the corner of the desk, atop a pile of parchment, like a fuzzy black paperweight. Severus and Harry arrived to find him dozing, his dark hair now streaked with gray.

“Grandfather?” Severus called softly.

Augustus didn’t stir.

Mystic awoke, yawned, twitched his whiskers, then went over and meowed in his wizard’s ear.

Augustus jerked up. “Huh? What? Mystic? Must have fallen asleep again, blast it.” He stroked the cat lovingly and Mystic arched his back and purred.

“Grandfather, are you all right?” Severus asked.

“Severus! You’ve returned. Did you find him?”

“I’m right here, Grandpa.” Harry said, he was leaning on Severus’ arm.

Augustus gave a sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin! Are you hurt, lad?”

“Uh . . .I’ve got a sprained knee and a concussion,” Harry reported.

“And he broke his nose, but I fixed that,” Severus added.

Relief and anger flickered in the other’s eyes. He straightened and gave his impulsive great-grandson a look of disapproval. “You foolish reckless child! What were you thinking, flying off into a blizzard that way? You could have been killed! What have I told you, Mr. Snape, about flying in bad weather?”

“Not to. I’m sorry, Grandpa.”

“You ought to be, young man! You scared your father and me half to death with your insane stunt! I couldn’t sleep all night for worrying. You ought to be glad you’re injured, or else I’d be tempted to wallop your backside, Henry.”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t mean to scare you, I just thought . . .I didn’t belong here so I . . .”

“You what? Decided to run off? Who ever gave you the idea that you didn’t belong here?”

Harry shrugged and dug his toe into the carpet. “Because I’m not really your great-grandson, I’m a Potter—”

“So? You were a Potter when you first arrived and I’ve known for years who you were and it makes no difference now than it did then.”

“You knew?”

“Aye, lad, I did. And you’re still my great-grandson, no matter what name you give yourself, because I say so.” Augustus declared fiercely. “This is your home and your family and I’ll hear no more about you not belonging here. And if those fools in the Ministry or Albus Dumbledore say otherwise, they’re going to deal with me.” He held out his arms. “Come here, you wretched brat. Welcome home.”

Harry found himself scooted across the carpet by a playful wind gust and into the old sorcerer’s arms. He clung to the tall wizard, and Augustus hugged him hard, easing him onto his lap. “I love you, Grandpa. I’m sorry I made you overspend your powers.”

“Overspend my powers? That Hotspur’s been exaggerating again,” snorted the old man. “Damn worrywart elf! I’m perfectly fine. Just a bit tired. Quit worrying.” He patted Harry on the back, for Harry was sniffling into his blue day robe. “There now, lad. You’re forgiven. I love you too, my Harry.”

Harry froze. “You . . .called me Harry.”

Augustus smiled. “Just this once. You’re upset and injured, I’ll humor you. But don’t ever do anything like that again, or else I’ll break that broomstick and use it for firewood.” He growled gently.

“Okay, Grandpa,” was all Harry said, allowing the wizard to hold him for a few moments more. It felt so good to be back home, safe and loved, despite the scoldings.

Augustus shifted uncomfortably. “Getting too heavy for my knees, Henry.” He muttered, half to himself, and Harry stood up and leaned on the desk. Augustus eyed him. “You going to stand there all day like a stork on one leg, or are you going to sit down in a chair?”

“Oh.” Now Harry felt like a dunce. There was a chair opposite the desk.

“Off with you, lad,” Augustus said gruffly, gently turning him about and giving him a light swat on the bottom.

Harry winced, for though the smack didn’t hurt, his bruises did.

Augustus noticed, of course. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just bruised,” Harry said offhandedly.

“Bruised? Severus, why didn’t you heal him?”

“I did, partially. But Healer Faolin is coming over to examine him more thoroughly,” replied Severus, rolling his eyes. One minute you’re threatening to wallop his behind and now it’s Severus, why didn’t you heal him? Merlin have mercy! He moved over to help his son into a chair, speaking a Cushioning charm first. Harry sat down gingerly. “Comfortable? Good.” The Potions Master gave his grandfather a frown. “She’s also going to be examining you for spell drain, Grandfather.”

“Me? Severus, I’m fine.”

“No, you are not. Just let the Healer run a diagnostic.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“I say it is,” Severus set his jaw.

Augustus glared at him. “Disrespectful young whelp! Who do you think you are, dictating to me?”

“Your heir, who’s very concerned about you, Grandfather,” Severus answered back. “Stop being stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking. That’s the cauldron calling the kettle black, Severus Snape!” retorted the elder Slytherin. “Don’t you think I know when I’ve overstressed myself?”

“No. Because you’re like Harry, and think you’re invincible,” Severus shot back.

“Listen to Master Sev, milord!” put in Lina , who had just popped into the room with a tea tray.

Augustus frowned. “Lina, you’re not my mother.”

“Good thing, milord. Because I’d have surely expired from nerves,” the elf said, and smiled sweetly. She set the tray down upon the desk and then she rushed over to Harry. “Master Harry, you’re home!” she cried. She climbed into his lap and hugged him, crying happily.

Harry hugged her. “Hey, Lina. I’m okay, really. I’m sorry I was so mean to you this morning. Don’t cry.”

The elf stopped after a moment, pulled away and looked at him, her hazel eyes wet with tears. “You are certain you’re all right?”

“I’m a bit banged up, but I’ll live.”

“Good.” Then she cuffed him hard on the ear.

“Ouch!” He gaped at her in shock, for Lina had never raised a hand to him ever. “What was that for?”

“Nearly giving me a heart attack, you reckless imp! I thought I was done with that after you turned four and quit eating holly berries. Guess I was wrong, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Lina.”

The little elf shook her finger at him. “I’ve got lots of pots and pans waiting for you to scrub, young master, so you can show me just how sorry you are after dinner.”

“But . . .Hotspur said you were cleaning all night.”

“So I was. Nearly wore out my hands. But the day’s not half done yet and I’ve lots more to cook. There’ll be plenty for you to clean, Master Harry. If you do a good job, you can have dessert.” Then she hugged him again, tears of joy now filling her eyes. “Welcome home, Little One.” An instant later she blinked away.

Harry rubbed his ear. “Merlin, but she was really mad! I’ve never seen her like that.”

Augustus gave a wry chuckle. “You set this household on its ear running off like that, lad. Don’t do it again.”

“No, sir. Promise.”

Just then Valeska swooped into the room with a letter for Severus. She glided down gracefully and perched on his forearm, holding her leg out so he could unfasten the envelope.

“Thank you, bright one,” he crooned, and fed her a tidbit of roasted chicken, which he had in his pocket. He opened the envelope and read the short parchment note there. “Ah. Your Christmas present has come in, Harry,” was all he said.

Harry nodded, then he reached up to pet Valeska, who scolded him in falconspeak and nipped him gently before letting him stroke her. “You’re mad at me too, huh? I’m really sorry. Didn’t think you’d miss me too. Where’s Calin?”

As if on cue, his calico strolled into the room and jumped into his lap, purring ecstatically and kneading him with her front paws. “Hey, I’m not a pincushion!” he objected. The cat ignored him, happily making herself comfortable on her favorite wizard’s lap. Then she fell asleep, waking only when Healer Faolin arrived and gently removed her so she could examine Harry’s knee.

A few spells later and Harry’s knee and concussion were fixed, and Healer Faolin even offered to re-break Harry’s nose and make it straight again. “It won’t take but a few minutes.”

“No!” Harry refused. “I don’t care if it’s not straight, I like it the way it is,” he told her.

“All right then, Harry.” The Healer laughed, ruffling his hair. “Your father did a good job, actually, for a non-Healer. And that small bump makes you look a bit more like him.” Then she turned to examine Augustus. “Lord Prince, what’s this I hear about you wrestling a snowstorm? All of you Elemental Masters are the same, you push yourselves till you collapse and then wonder why.”

“I don’t wonder, I know why,” Augustus said grouchily, but he allowed her to run her wand over him.

“Ah. As I thought. Exhaustion and spell fatigue.” Healer Faolin said. She prescribed several draughts of Magic Replenisher, and a whole day in bed, resting and drinking liquids.

Augustus grudgingly agreed to follow her rules, and allowed Severus and Hotspur to help him to bed. He then slept for two hours and while he was asleep, Severus attended to a few other matters, such as writing a letter to Professor Malfoy and washing Harry’s mouth out for his disrespectful language. Harry had forgotten how much he hated that particular punishment until then, and he vowed to never swear at Severus again—at least not till he was of age.

Afterwards, Harry took a nap, and Severus finished his correspondence to Harry’s teacher.

Dear Professor Zandra Malfoy,

I am writing this to express my deep displeasure with my son Harry’s grades this term. I don’t know if you are aware of it, though you ought to be, that he has failed two core courses this term, Transfiguration and History of Magic, as well as being below average in several others. My son has since informed me that his grades slipped because he was playing Quidditch more than he was studying. That is unacceptable to me.

When he wrote me back in September about gaining the position of Reserve Seeker, I was not happy, but decided to allow him to participate, so long as his grades did not drop. But then you made him a full Seeker and that caused him to pay more attention to sports and forget about keeping his grades up.

I would like to know how it is that you did not notice my son’s grades becoming progressively worse? You should be keeping an eye on all the first years and making sure they are handing in homework and studying for tests and so forth. That is the responsibility of a Head of House, not winning a silly game.

I recall when we were in school together, Ms. Malfoy, you were obsessed with Quidditch then too, but I would have thought you smart enough to not let that get in the way of making sure all your students were performing up to standards. I am very strict with grades, and my son knows this, and I know that my son can make perfect marks if he is not being encouraged to be the next Wronski.

Didn’t your colleagues inform you about Harry’s grades going downhill? I find it hard to believe that Professor McGonagall and Professor Binns would not have done so. Did you choose to ignore them so you could keep your star Seeker? If so it shows a remarkable lack of solidarity and responsibility on your part, not to mention sheer negligence! And you teach potions besides!

I have already punished my son at home, but I would like to extend that punishment and have you put him on academic probation for two months next term and restrict his Quidditch activities until he shows improvement in his marks. I would ask you to monitor him closely and if he shows improvement by the middle of the term, then you may allow him back on the team as Reserve Seeker only. If not, then I shall pull him from Quidditch until he brings his marks up to my satisfaction.

I must say that I am quite furious with your irresponsibility, Professor, and you are lucky I have not reported your negligence to both the Headmaster and Board of Governors. A teacher’s first duty should be to her students.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape, Potions Master

He then sent the letter off with Valeska.

By that time Augustus had awoken and was ready to discuss what needed to be done in order to make Harry an official member of the Prince and Snape family.

Severus settled down in the brown horsehair stuffed recliner at the side of Augustus’ bed and Harry curled up at the foot, facing Augustus, who was reclining on several large pillows. “First, we ought to contact Gringotts and see what, if any, activity has been going on with the Potter vault these past years. I would find it odd that Dumbledore did not arrange some kind of payment schedule with your . . .relatives, Henry,” Augustus began, spitting out the word relatives as if it were foul-tasting. “As a former consultant at Gringotts, I still have some pull with my friends the goblins, and will contact them and explain the situation. They can be trusted to keep any secrets, for they have no interest in the affairs of wizards and are sworn to maintain a policy of confidentiality with customers and non-interference in magical politics and so forth. Plus, as I am a personal friend of Thane Dragonfang, who is the Goblin Bank Manager, we may come and go about our business without anyone being the wiser.”

“What are you saying, Grandfather? You know of a secret way into Gringotts?” Severus asked.

“Not so much as a secret way, but rather a way known only to certain bank employees and goblins,” Augustus said, smirking like a fox who had just swallowed a chicken. “Once they verify that young Henry is indeed Harry Potter, they will release the contents of the vault to him and we shall see what remains of his inheritance from James and Lily. The Potter fortune was quite large, hopefully most of it is still intact.”

Harry coughed, then said, “But Grandpa, I don’t know anything about managing money.”

“Then I shall teach you. But you won’t have to worry about actually managing the money until you are of age. Your father, as your legal guardian and parent shall be in charge of that, as will your personal financial advisor. I would lend you mine, but Adderscale has enough to do with the Prince account never mind adding another.”

“Are they all goblins?” asked Harry.

“Most of the best advisors are. There’s nothing like a goblin to manage your Galleons. They have the best head for figures and they aren’t tempted by gold. Goblins consider gold worthless soft metal. Their society trades in steel coins and by barter, and they value honesty and fair trade above all. It’s something we wizards could learn from. Many of the wars we fought with the goblins were because wizards attempted to cheat them out of land and magical items, for the goblins are wonderful crafters of armor and weapons and magical devices. They have a natural rapport with earth and sky magic, which is why they tend to respect me, as I am an Elemental Master.”

Harry was not surprised. Augustus was one of the most respected wizards anywhere, because of the vast forces he wielded. An Elemental Master was the rarest of mages, such a Talent came along once in several centuries, and those who were born with it quickly learned to be self-disciplined, lest they destroy everything they held dear. Actually, any Master of an Element had to be controlled and of a strong demeanor, lest the powers they conjured go wild. Augustus had told him that once his powers started to show themselves at age fifteen, his parents had apprenticed him to an ancient witch, the last living Elemental Mistress in Britain, called Morgana. Through her he had learned the iron discipline required of one who could summon the powers of wind, water, fire, and earth. Most of the wizarding community respected the Elementalists, and everyone was fearful of what could happen should they anger one.

To be an Elemental Master, Augustus had once said, was to be one with the forces of nature and the planet itself. It was a Talent that demanded great responsibility, which was why it tended to surface late in life, in middle adolescence or adulthood.

Harry wished often that he could inherit an Elementalist’s gift, he would have liked to be an Air Master or maybe even a Fire Master. But since learning of his true heritage, he didn’t think it was likely he would ever be one, since the Talent had to be inherited directly. It tended to skip generations, but there had to be one with the Talent in the direct line of descent somewhere. While magic might show up randomly in a Muggle family, an Elemental Mastery did not. Harry didn’t know if any of the Potters had ever had such a gift, no one had ever mentioned it and it was so rare that even a family like the Princes, who had several Masters, could not be sure a child would inherit it.

But that was all right, he reminded himself. He had enough on his plate as it was, and he was content with just being Henry Snape. As well as the Boy Who Lived, though he could do without that dreadful monicker.

“When will you contact Dragonfang, Grandfather?”

“As soon as possible. The sooner I speak with him, the sooner we can settle our affairs and get on with the blood adoption. You know, of course, that the blood adoption requires two witnesses, both of whom know the true identity of both participants?”

“Yes, I know. I was trying to think of another person whom I trust enough to tell Harry’s parentage to.”

“What about Augusta?” suggested Augustus. “She isn’t a gossipy witch and she was also involved with the events of that Halloween night, she will understand our wish for privacy. And she cares not for fame or fortune.”

Severus considered for several moments. He knew Augustus would not have suggested her if he did not trust her implicitly and Severus liked her, she reminded him a little of Eileen and his grandfather combined. There was really no one else close to the family he would have considered, save perhaps one of the Zabinis. But Annamaria and Marco did not have the old reputation that the Longbottoms had, being a newer pureblood family from Italy. No, Augusta was the wise choice.

“I agree. I shall speak with Augusta while you talk to Dragonfang.” Severus told them.

“Can I tell Neville, Papa?” asked Harry. “And what about Blaise and Ron and Hermione?”

Augustus looked rather alarmed. “Harry, I can see why you would want your friends to know, but I think such knowledge ought to remain within the family. Otherwise, what if one of them says something to someone by mistake? Then word will get out that you’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’ll be hounded by the media and Dumbledore will go out of his way to ensure you try and fulfill that ridiculous prophecy. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“No, but . . .isn’t it sort of lying to them?”

“No, once the adoption is finalized.” Augustus persuaded.

“Your grandpa is right, Harry. The less people who know, the better. Three can keep a secret, but only if two of them are dead.” Severus quoted Benjamin Franklin calmly.

Harry thought about it. He was almost sure hot irons wouldn’t drag his secret out of Neville, but what about the rest of them? Ron had a tendency to blurt out the first thing in his head when he became upset and he didn’t know about Hermione and Blaise sometimes tended to tell things to his older brother and sister that he shouldn’t.

“All right. We’ll keep it between us. I’d rather not be the front page headline.”

“I’m proud of you, Harry. That was a mature decision you just made,” Severus told him.

“Thanks,” Harry said, and he felt a warm glow surge through him at his father’s words, a glow that erased the feelings of shame and regret that he had felt for his hasty words before.

“Henry, get me that round stone mirror on my dresser,” Augustus pointed to a hand mirror carved of some odd gray striped stone inset with what looked like rubies, emeralds, and sapphires about the glass. Strange runic markings were etched inbetween the stones and the glass was opaque.

“This? But where’s your reflection?”

The Elemental Master chuckled. “This mirror is no ordinary mirror. It is a Mirror of Far Speaking. With it I can contact Dragonfang and any other goblin in Gringotts without having to go there directly. These are rare magical items and the goblins give them to very few. I am one of those.”

He took the mirror and breathed upon it four times, then called softly in Gobbledegook, “Dragonfang, I would speak with you.”

The mirror glowed with a soft blue light, then a goblin whose skin was a golden cast and had a short goatee and ebony hair cut short like those of the warrior caste appeared in the mirror. He had large slanted eyes of a slate color and a hooked nose and pointed ears. Upon one ear hung a small dragon’s fang set in platinum.

“Lord Prince, brother to Elements, it has been long since I have heard your voice. What would you have of me, old friend?”

“I have a favor to ask of you, old friend. A favor which requires me to invoke client confidentiality,” Augustus answered.

“Ah. Consider my tongue frozen.” He inclined his head to the old wizard.

“Listen then, Dragonfang,” Augustus began to speak rapidly in the language of the goblins, which he had learned long ago.

Harry looked at Severus in puzzlement. “Papa, what kind of language is that?”

“Gobbledegook, the language of the goblins,” Severus replied. “Your grandfather is one of the few Gringotts employees, retired or otherwise, who has bothered to learn their tongue. They respect him for it, among other things.”

The Potions Master rose. “I am going to Floo Augusta and speak with her about your heritage while Grandfather is talking to Dragonfang. Why don’t you have some lunch while you wait?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, for he was now starving. Lina brought him a lunch that was more like a dinner—turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce. Harry took that to mean she had forgiven him, unless it was so he would have more pots and pans to scrub after dinner. Whatever the reason, he ate heartily, for he had missed Lina’s cooking while he was at school. The food at Hogwarts was good, but sometimes it could be over sauced and rich, while Lina cooked tasty simple meals that did not sit heavily on his stomach.

Augustus and Severus soon joined him at the table, and Augustus informed them that after lunch they would Floo to the Leaky Cauldron as usual and from there he would take them to Gringotts by way of the Goblin Passage, which was a secret road known only to the goblins of Gringotts and those they named friends, which were a handful of witches and wizards.

Harry grew very excited, until Augustus burst his bubble by telling him he would have to be blindfolded.

“What for?”

“Those are the rules, lad. Only one who is named Goblin Friend can see the Passage. Everyone else, and there have been very few who even know it exists, must be blindfolded. The goblins are very tight with their security.”

Harry sighed, then supposed he ought to be grateful he was getting to find out about the ultra secret way at all, considering some of the stories he’d heard about Gringotts security. It was said that you might be able to break into Gringotts but nobody had ever broken out of it. Goblins did not tolerate thieves of any kind.

* * * * * *

Once they had stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron, Augustus led them down the alley behind the inn, where some trash bins were located. There they met two hefty looking goblins with reddish skin and sharp ears and crooked noses, dressed in matte blue tunics and leggings and boots that flopped over at the knee of black suede. They wore half cloaks of black and had slender swords at their belts.

Both bowed low to Augustus. “Lord Prince, it is an honor to see you again,” said one. “Thane Dragonfang awaits you.”

“It is an honor to see you as well,” said the Elementalist, bowing in return, and speaking, as did the goblins, in their own tongue. “These are my grandson, Severus Snape, and his son, Henry.”

The goblins also bowed to them. “As kin of Lord Prince we greet you,” said the first one, this time in English. “But even kin may not see the road we shall travel. Forgive us the necessity of a blindfold.” He removed a strip of what looked like a sheer black cloth.

Then he approached Harry and bound it tightly about his eyes, including his glasses. Instantly, Harry could see nothing.

The other goblin did the same to Severus, though the Potions Master had to kneel in order for the goblin to reach his head.

“Do not fear, young wizard,” came the goblin’s slightly raspy deep voice. “Take my hand and I shall guide you. My name is Striking Arrow.”

Severus’s goblin guide was called Dark Bane, and he pressed a series of bricks in the back wall of the Leaky Cauldron.

A low grinding sound emerged and a section of the wall slide aside. The goblins guided the wizards inside the passageway, the brick wall slid closed and then harry felt a sudden drop. The floor was moving, as if they were on a lift or an elevator of some sort.

Suddenly it stopped and the goblins marched them out.

Though Harry and Severus couldn’t see it, they were in an underground passage made of silvery stone and lit every few feet by crystal lamps that glowed a soft honey color. Goblins do not like bright light, as their eyes are sensitive to it, and the soft light suited them just fine. The floor of the passage was smooth, with no cracks or dips in the stonework.

The only sound was the footsteps of the goblins and wizards as they trod the stone passage.

There were a few archways that they passed on their brief journey, but Augustus did not so much as glance at them. Mind your own business was a favorite goblin expression, and here in their domain, the Slytherin did just that.

Harry couldn’t tell how long it took them to get to Gringotts, he just kept following his unseen guide, until he felt the floor move again and assumed they were now going up in another lift. Finally they stepped out into a private consulting room deep within the bank, and the goblins removed the blindfolds.

Harry squinted against the sudden light, though it was no brighter in this room than it had been in the Passage. He found himself standing at the edge of a white carpet in a room that had wall to wall bookcases filled with books and scrolls of all kinds. In the middle of the room was a huge mahogany desk and a revolving leather chair. In the chair was a large goblin wearing a purple velvet tunic with close fitted sleeves and leggings of soft charcoal with boots that came up to mid-thigh. He was wearing a short cloak of black and purple in a diamond pattern and had a platinum torc with amethysts clasped about his neck. A dagger rested on either hip and his ear bore a dragon’s fang.

Dark Bane bowed and said respectfully, “Thane Dragonfang, I have brought your guests, as requested.”

“Thank you, cousin. You are dismissed.”

Both goblins bowed and slipped out of the door to the right.

Then Dragonfang rose and came to greet Augustus. He swept the tall wizard a bow and then straightened, moving to clasp the other’s hand. “So the Unleasher of Earthquakes comes to see me at last! Well met, old friend!” He gave Augustus a toothy grin.

Augustus winced inwardly, he had forgotten what a firm grip Dragonfang had. Then he gestured to Severus and Harry. “Dragonfang, may I introduce my grandson, Severus Snape, Potions Master.”

The goblin clasped Severus’ hand and shook it firmly. “Pleased to meet you. I have heard much about you, who are considered Britain’s premiere Potions Master.”

“Thank you.” Severus bowed to him, sensing that the goblin was not just a bank manager, but a leader among his people.

Dragonfang turned to Harry, “And you, young wizard, are both Augustus’ great-grandson and Harry Potter, correct?” He shook Harry’s hand as well, but more gently.

“Yes, sir.” Harry attempted a brief bow, trying to copy his father and grandfather, but feared he only ended up looking ridiculous.

“Good. Would you come over here, please? I have been gathering all the information and financial statements pertaining to your vault, Mr. Potter, over the past eleven years,” said the goblin, beckoning them all to the desk. “But first, would you place your hand here, upon this gold brick, so that we may identify you?”

Harry laid his hand upon the gold brick and it shimmered briefly.

“Very good, Mr. Potter!” Dragonfang said, pleased. He had not doubted his old friend’s word, but better safe than sorry. There had been imposters trying to get access to fortunes before this, which was why he always magically checked a wizard’s aura using the brick. Polyjuice Potion only changed appearance, it did not alter a wizard’s magical aura. “Now then, to business. In the reading of the will left by your late parents, it stated that in the event of their deaths, you were to be their sole heir of all their monies, assets, holdings and so forth. But the vault was to be left in care of either your godfather, Sirius Black, or a Ministry appointed official should Mr. Black not be available, while you are under age.”

Dragonfang cleared his throat. “Well, as we all know, Mr. Black was found guilty of murder and betrayal and he is now in Azkaban. The official the Ministry appointed to take care of your account was one Albus Dumbledore.” The goblin shuffled some papers. “I have noted that Mr. Dumbledore had been making regular monthly withdrawals from the account and placing the monies into a Muggle-run bank account for a man named Vernon Dursley. Do you know this person, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, yes, sir. I know of him. He is my uncle.”

“So I see. I have a statement here signed by Dumbledore stating that the money he placed in the account was to be used for your upkeep. However, my good friend Augustus has informed me that the money in this account was garnered illegally, because for the past ten years, you have not been living with your uncle, but with him and his grandson, correct?”

“Yes, sir. You see, my aunt and uncle left me in a manger on Christmas Eve when I was just a baby, about seventeen months old, and I was found by my papa . . .I mean Severus . . .” Harry quickly told his sad tale of abandonment and reversal of fortune and also how the Dursleys had lied about “losing” him when he was three to a Muggle kidnapper.

“Ah. So, these relatives of yours continued to take the monthly stipend from Dumbledore for two more years, as I can see from the account activity, thus engaging in blatant fraud and lying to Dumbledore and Gringotts.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry said, and swallowed hard, for the goblin was now looking distinctly peeved and baring his teeth in a soundless snarl.

“Were they able to be tried under our jurisdiction, they would soon regret their actions,” Dragonfang growled. “The punishment for fraud under goblin law is loss of one’s lying tongue and for repeated offenses, loss of one’s life. Plus restitution would be taken from the family to replace all the gold taken illegally from the vault. However, since they are not part of the magical community, they aren’t subject to goblin law. Too bad.”

“You may not be authorized to punish them for this crime, Dragonfang, but I am not adverse to doing so.” Augustus stated sharply.

“You would risk the Statute of Secrecy?”

“To bring justice to those monsters, yes, I would. They would have killed an innocent baby and then they made money off the boy besides. But that shall be dealt with later. What I need to know is how much money was paid to them and if the rest of the Potter fortune remains intact?”

Dragonfang named a sum that seemed astronomical to Harry for his upkeep. “Dumbledore was being very generous here. I suppose he did not want young Potter to want for anything. According to the will, the bulk of the estate holdings were sold off to pay for funeral expenses and bequests to various charities, including a rather large sum donated to Hogwarts to renovate the Quidditch pitch and the Trophy Room, as well as the potions lab and classroom and the library. There is a small piece of land in Godric’s Hollow left with a tumbledown cottage upon it, other than that, the remainder of the estate is in the vault, total assets valued at 500,000 Galleons, to be held in trust until Mr. Potter comes of age, with withdrawals allowed for school expenses and personal use by Albus Dumbledore or Mr. Potter’s legal guardian.”

Harry nearly fell out of his chair. “Five hundred thousand Galleons!” he exclaimed.

Dragonfang chuckled. “Yes, a tidy sum. Though it’s a pity they sold the land, real estate is premium right now, especially old properties. You will inherit it all on your seventeenth birthday, Mr. Potter. I would suggest that for now you hire a competent financial advisor to ensure you are not taken advantage of.”

“I will, but . . .since Professor Dumbledore has control of my vault, does that mean I have to tell him who I really am in order to gain access to my money?”

“No, for the trust passes to whoever is your current legal guardian. If you are adopted into Lord Prince’s family by his grandson, then the trust would magically transfer to Mr. Snape. Once transferred it becomes part of the Snape holdings and no one save us four would ever know it was once the Potter vault, since it was declared a “defunct account.” The transfer would be recorded in the record books, but I shall invoke the Privacy Seal, which renders any information about the vault to be sealed until the party invoking it—you—releases it. Thus your secret is safe with me.”

The goblin smiled, a rather wicked smile, and looked very pleased with himself. “Might I suggest, Mr. Potter, that it is in your best interest to perform that adoption very soon?”

“That’s what we were intending to do after we finished up here,” Augustus interjected.

“Might I suggest you do it here?” said Dragonfang. “It is private and that way you do not have to be bothered with returning here to sign the transfer documents.”

“That would be convenient, but we need legal adoption papers,” began Lord Prince.

“Not to worry. We have some here for that very reason,” Dragonfang said with a touch of smugness. He opened a drawer in the massive desk and withdrew an official looking piece of parchment.

“Severus, call Augusta Longbottom.”

* * * * * *

Eight minutes later, Augusta was ushered into the office, looking a bit worse for wear. She shot a dirty look at Augustus. “You could have warned me, my lord!”

Augustus smirked. “That you would be traveling the Goblin Passage? Sorry, my dear, but my lips were sealed.”

“Humph! You Slytherins and your secrets!” Then she turned to Harry. “Hello, Harry. You know, now that I am aware of certain things, I must say you do resemble Lily a great deal, not just in coloring, but the shape of your eyes and nose. But you have your father’s chin and his eternally mussed hair.” She set her red handbag and vulture hat, which she had worn ever since Harry had known her, down on a chair. “I think they would be proud of how you have grown, and pleased that you have a family who loves and supports you.” She rolled up her sleeves. “All right. Shall we get started?”

Harry and Severus turned and faced each other, standing about a hand’s width apart. “Take my hand, Harry,” Severus ordered. “This spell is twofold, first the vow, then the Blood-Binding potion.”

Harry gripped Severus’ hand firmly, while Augustus and Gran drew their wands and touched them to the clasped hands.

“Harry Potter, do you consent to this of your own free will, without magical, physical or emotional coercion of any kind?” Augusta began.

“I do,” answered Harry, while Severus replied the same for Augustus. A ribbon of yellow light shot out from their wands and wrapped about their clasped hands.

She continued. “Harry Potter, do you consent to taking Severus Tobias Snape as your legal guardian and surrogate father? Do you agree to love, obey, and respect him in all ways as your parent and understand that he shall have control over your trust fund until you are of age?”

“I do.”

“Severus Tobias Snape, do you consent to make Harry Potter your legal ward and surrogate son? Will you promise to love, protect, and cherish him in all ways as your son, and give him guidance and the comfort of a loving home and family?”

“I do.”

A ribbon of green light joined the yellow, binding them even tighter.

“Harry Potter, do you consent, upon this adoption, to become a member of the Snape family, and to take that Name as your own, before all others, forevermore?”

“I do.” Harry said firmly.

“Severus Tobias Snape, do you accept Harry Potter’s wish, and give him your Name and recognize him as your son, forevermore?”

“I do.”

A blue light twined about the others, pulsing and glistening.

“The vows have been heard, the vows have been witnessed, the vows bind unto death and beyond, by the power of Magic and the Elements!” both witch and wizard chanted the final refrain. “Let the circle be unbroken!”

There was a flare of light and Harry quickly turned his head aside to keep from being blinded.

When he looked down, the multi-colored magical strands had coalesced into a single one the color of blood.

“Severus, where is the potion?” asked Augustus.

“My right pocket.”

Augustus extracted two vials containing a potion of a smoky hue. He also took out a silver needle. He handed one vial to Severus and the other to Harry.

“You must both swallow the potion at the same time, and then I shall draw a drop of your blood and press your hands together. The potion will do the rest. Ready?”

Augusta counted to three, and they both swallowed the potion.

At that precise instant, Augustus jabbed each of their thumbs with the needle, making a single drop of blood well up, then he pressed their fingers together.

Harry felt an icy warmth flow through him as his blood mingled with Severus’, and the potion created a bond between them magically, sealing the adoption. He could feel Severus’ heartbeat as if it were his own for a brief instant, and also feel the love the other bore him, flowing down the bond to wrap him tenderly in its embrace. He had always known Severus loved him, but to actually feel it took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes.

He shut them for a moment and the bloodred ribbon was dissolved into their flesh, making the Blood Binding permanent.

When he opened them, he saw Severus’ own eyes wet with tears and then he moved forward and was caught in the other’s embrace. “I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, Harry,” Severus said, holding his new son close for another minute before releasing him. Now all that was left was to sign the adoption papers and Harry was now an official member of the Snape-Prince line, and the blood of the former Mage-Kings now ran in his veins.

* * * * * *

Christmas Day, 1991

Foxfire Hall:

Harry sat on the sofa, stroking and feeding his new owl, a beautiful snowy female, some owl treats. She had been delivered that morning from Eeylops, and was the present Severus had spoken of the day before, when he had received a letter from Valeska. He had decided to call her Hedwig. Soon he would write letters to his friends wishing them a happy Christmas and explaining, as if they didn’t already know, that he was . . .sigh . . .grounded for the rest of the holiday and so couldn’t have any friends over, but had to stay home and do various chores about the manor. He was also on probation as far as Quidditch was concerned, until the middle of next term. He knew Blaise and Ron would feel sorry for him with that restriction, but he knew it was a fair consequence, all things considered.

And where once he would have minded being stuck at Foxfire Hall, now he was content to use the time to spend with his family, learning Defense from Augustus and advanced potions from Severus, bonding with his new owl, and helping out Lina and Hotspur. This had certainly been a Christmas to remember, and there was still more to come, since sly Augustus had invited special guests for dinner.

Harry suspected the identity of one of them, and smothered a chuckle behind his hand. Wouldn’t his father be surprised? He hoped that the dinner would go well and maybe that old Christmas magic would encourage Severus to open his heart to someone besides his son and grandfather. Unless he was totally mistaken about the visitor, but he didn’t think he was.

He had caught a bit of a conversation between the two elder wizards in the conservatory as he had been going past, and had lingered to listen, even though he shouldn’t have.

“Grandfather, why is Lina setting three extra plates on the table?” Severus had asked.

“I told her to. You never know who might drop by.”

“What are you up to, old man? You have that sneaky gleam in your eye.”

“What gleam?” Augustus said, feigning innocence. “I simply wish to be prepared should an unexpected guest or two come by.”

“Such as? Augusta, Neville, and Blaise? Did you forget, Harry is grounded until New Years Eve?”

“I did not. Nor would I seek to undermine your authority that way.”

“Then who is coming to dinner?”

“You’ll see,” was all Augustus would say.

Harry was still trying to puzzle out who the other guests might be later on that evening when there came a knock at the door.

Hotspur opened it to reveal three people wrapped in scarves, cloaks, gloves and hats. “Good evening, my name is Hotspur, and welcome to Foxfire Hall! Do come in, it’s too cold to be standing outside.”

Hotspur had their cloaks and gloves and hats whisked away and then Harry, who was peeking about the drawing room door, could see who they were. To his delight he saw the first guest was Sandra Miska, and what she was wearing made his jaw drop.

She was wearing a green gown made of some kind of shimmery material that caught the light and changed to different green hues when she moved. It fit close over the bodice, which was embroidered along the top with crystal snowflakes and curved like a heart. The sleeves came down to a point over her wrists and were close fitting and had more crystal embroidery. The skirt flared out and swirled about her feet almost like a train of fairy gauze and she wore matching green heels. Her hair, which Harry had never seen any way but pulled back in a tail, was left loose and flowing, it fell in waves and curls of deep brown. In it she wore a tiny red poinsettia and her ears were adorned with snowflake earrings.

Harry was stunned. Living as he did with two bachelors, he had never really seen a woman dressed for a fancy occasion, and it knocked him for a loop. He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirttail, wondering if he were seeing things. But no, when he put them on, there she was, a sight to behold.

Merlin, but there is no way Papa can resist her!

He got a second shock when he saw who the other two guests were.

Tall scarecrow-like Smithers was dressed in a fine robe of a deep blue shade with gold runes edging sleeves and down the front to the hem. His hair had been neatly combed and slicked back and his harsh face seemed somehow less so as he smiled down at his daughter, Susannah, whom he had adopted recently, his hand resting on her shoulder.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand closed over his shoulder.

“Henry, quit lurking in the doorway and go and greet our guests. I’ve taught you better than that.”

“Grandpa! You . . .startled me.”

He looked up at Augustus, who was dressed in his best robes of silver with green trim and the Prince crest on the left breast, underneath he wore matching silvery mesh pants and a long tunic edged in green thread with a pattern of leaves and swirls. His dark ebony hair was now streaked with gray, but it only made him look more imposing and dignified.

“Where’s Papa?”

“He’ll be down shortly. Come along, lad, mustn’t keep our guests waiting.”

He gently shepherded Harry into the foyer.

Harry had on new clothes as well, black pressed trousers and a solid emerald green pullover with black boots and his robes were black with green snakes and holly in wide bands on the sleeves. He had managed with the aid of one of Snape’s hair potions, to tame his auburn mop somewhat, so he didn’t look like a clown in wizard’s clothing.

Harry greeted Sandra and Smithers politely, as he had been taught, but when the apothecary gently nudged his daughter and said, “Harry, meet my daughter, Susannah,” he became tongue-tied.

Susannah Smithers reminded him of an ethereal fairy, she was petite and her hair was like spun silvery-gold, it flowed all about her like a halo, despite her attempt to contain it with a crimson headband set with small crystals. She had huge sapphire eyes that stared all about her in wonder and she was wearing a full-skirted crimson dress with delicate lace edging about the collar and a gold pattern of birds and flowers on the bodice. On her feet were black leather boots with white fur. He half expected wings to be sprouting from her shoulders.

She smiled at him shyly and said, “Hello. I’m Susannah, thank you for inviting us.”

Harry found his voice at last. “Err . . .hello. I’m Henry Snape, but you can just . . . call me Harry. Everyone does except my grandpa.”

“Pleased to meet you, Harry,” she held out a hand to shake.

He took it gently, then remembering the manners Augustus had drilled into him, said, “May I escort you to dinner, my lady?”

The sapphire eyes sparkled and she laughed. “Of course, sir,” she replied and let him take her arm.

“My grandfather made me say that,” he whispered in her ear.

“Papa Amos is a stickler for manners too,” she whispered back, understanding his embarrassed flush perfectly.

No sooner had they turned around, then Severus came down the stairs wearing a black suit and tie with deep forest green robes of a diamond brocade and mirror shined black half-boots. His hair was neatly pulled back into a tail tied with a green ribbon and he looked sinfully handsome.

Sandra took one look at him and had to catch her breath.

Severus’ eyes widened in shock when he saw who was standing in the foyer. His first impulse was to curse a certain matchmaking old Slytherin roundly in his head and his second was to drink in the sight of the attractive witch standing before him. He had never truly looked at Miss Miska before now, he had always been focused on purchasing ingredients and while she had chattered away to him and he had responded, he had never truly been aware of her as a woman and not a shopkeeper until now.

Now he saw the elegant attractive woman he had missed before.

Great Merlin, but I was blind all those years ago. How did I miss what was staring me in the face all this time?

He took two steps forward and lifted her hand, bowed over it briefly in the old-fashioned way, and said warmly, “Miss Miska, Merry Christmas. It’s a pleasure to see you outside of your shop. You really should get out more.”

“Merry Christmas, Severus. I’m most grateful you invited me here.” She smiled back at him.

That was my grandfather’s doing, not mine! He thought, but what he said aloud was, “The pleasure is mine. I’ll give you a tour of the grounds later. For now, may I escort you to dinner?”

“I would be honored,” Sandra said, and she took his arm and together they walked into the dining room.

Harry followed with Susannah, and Augustus with Smithers, and when Harry looked back at his grandfather, the old man gave him a sly wink and a smirk.

* * * * * *

They all sat down in the dining room, with its tapestries and portraits. Susannah looked about and seemed a bit overwhelmed, so Harry said, “We hardly ever eat in here. It’s too stuffy. Usually we eat in the morning room, it’s sort of like a kitchen. We only eat here with guests and on holidays.”

“I wouldn’t want to eat in here all the time either,” Susannah said. “Those portraits all looking at you, they make me nervous.”

“Who, them?” He made a face at Malchior, the fifth Lord Prince, and said, “They’re not as proper as they seem to be. Malchior got drunk and nearly fell off his girlfriend’s balcony late one night, and his daughter Althea liked to sing opera . . .”

He quietly regaled her with all of the ancestors’ foibles until she relaxed and wasn’t afraid she would drop her fork in her lap or dribble soup all over.

Augustus raised his glass of fine white wine in a toast. “To families, old and new, may we all have a happy Christmas and a healthy and productive New Year.”

“Cheers!” Sandra said, and she touched glasses with Severus.

They all drank to that, the adults had wine and the children had sparkling grape cider.

Dinner then appeared upon their plates. There was succulent roasted goose with dressing and mounds of fluffy mashed potatoes swimming with butter or gravy. There was creamed spinach and carrots with rosemary, a delicate lobster bisque, and sweet sausage with white beans over noodles. Warm rolls accompanied everything.

After dinner, Severus invited Sandra to see Drusilla’s garden and the conservatory, among other things, and Augustus offered to show Smithers his rare potion ingredient collection, leaving Harry with Susannah.

“Uh . . .do you like animals? I just got an owl for Christmas,” he said, a bit awkwardly.

“Yes. I love them. We were never allowed animals at the orphanage where I grew up, but Papa Amos says I can have a familiar on my eleventh birthday. That’s in April. Just in time for me to go to Hogwarts.”

“You’ll be a first year and I’ll be a second year,” Harry mused, leading her up the stairs to his room.

“This place is so huge, it’s a wonder you don’t get lost,” she blurted, then blushed because she sounded so stupid. “I mean . . .”

“Sometimes I still do get lost, especially if I go down the rooms in the west wing. That used to be guest rooms when the family had guests stay over for weeks at a time way back during the seventeen hundreds. But here’s my room.”

He opened the door and Calin bounded off the bed to greet him, purring and meowing. Hedwig fluttered on her perch and whoo-ed sleepily.

“This is my calico, Calin and my owl, Hedwig.”

“They’re lovely,” Susannah exclaimed, kneeling down to pet the cat, who immediately began rubbing herself all over the girl and purring loudly. When Susannah stood up to pet Hedwig, there were white cat hairs on her dress.

“Calin, look what you’ve done!” Harry groaned, wondering if she was going to freak out because hair was all over her new dress.

But all Susannah did was brush the hairs away. “It’s all right. I don’t mind a little cat hair.” She stroked Hedwig and said quietly, “I’m not sure if I want a cat or an owl. I’d love to send letters home whenever I wanted, but a cat you can snuggle with.” Calin twined about her legs.

“When I went away first term, my father lent me his white falcon, Valeska, so I could have my own post bird.”

“My mum had a bird once, I can almost remember it, I think it was a canary. It used to sing all day in the cage by the window. I was four when I lost them to a potions accident,” she said matter-of-factly. “I had no one to take me in after that, so I ended up at Angel Haven.”

“Are you . . .glad that Smithers adopted you?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was almost too old to be adopted, everyone always wants the cute toddlers or babies. But he . . .he wanted one my age and he might seem like a nasty bugger but he’s really not. He lost his family in a fire.”

“I know. His bark’s worse than his bite.” Then he asked, out of sheer curiosity, “Uh . . .did you mind giving up your old name and taking his?”

She shook her head. “No, because that meant I was part of a family again and it’s what I’ve always wanted. My mum and dad, they would understand, I know they didn’t want me to be alone forever. So I’m happy to be Susannah Smithers.”

Harry nodded, thinking that was how he felt about his own adoption.

“Do you like to fly?”

“Yes. We had one old broom at the Haven, it could barely get off the ground, but I could always make it fly.” Then she caught sight of the Phoenix. “Is that a real Phoenix Starfire 2000? I’ve read about them!”

“Have a look,” he gestured at it. Then he added generously, “You can try it out if you want.”

She examined the sleek racing broom longingly. “I would love to, but this dress and the broom would not go together. I’d rather you not collapse from shock after seeing my underwear,” she added, giggling.

Harry went red and then he snickered too. “I’ve never had to worry about that, thank Merlin. But I can’t fly until next term.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m grounded. Went flying in a snowstorm and fell off my broom.”

“Goodness, were you hurt?”

“Yeah. I got a broken nose, sprained knee, and concussion.”

She winced. “Ouch! I broke my arm once falling out of a tree.”

“You climb trees?”

“All the time. I’m not the delicate little pixie everyone thinks,” she answered.

“You play Quidditch?”

“No. I never learned. But I like watching it.”

“You do?” Hermione hated Quidditich. “Would you . . .like to come to a game then with me and my friends Neville and Blaise?” The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No. I just . . .need to ask my dad if it’s okay.” Harry said, feeling a blush rise up. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

He rushed out of the room thinking, I can’t believe I invited her to a Quidditch game! I barely know her! Then again, he hadn’t known Smithers either when he had bought him the Christmas present that one year.

He made his way down to the conservatory, hoping to catch Severus showing Sandra some exotic plant or whatever. The conservatory was empty. He peered out the large window into Drusilla’s garden, with its everblooming flowers and spotted two tall forms standing beneath a large flowering plum tree.

Harry stopped dead. Blossoms were falling all about them and they were kissing.

He turned and bolted back inside. I so did NOT need to see that! Holy Merlin!

He did not know how he managed to keep a straight face when Lina called them all down for dessert and they drank hot cocoa and roasted marshmallows over the fire. It was one thing to tease his father about having a relationship, but quite another to actually see it progress, he realized. But he did remember to ask Severus and Smithers if Susannah could attend a Quidditch match with him in the summer.

“Of course. They’re your tickets, you many bring along anyone you’d like,” said Severus.

“Never knew you liked Quidditch, Susannah,” said her father.

“I like it a lot. May I go, sir?”

Smithers nodded. “You may, so long as you mind Mr. Snape there, lass.”

“Thank you. All of you,” she said, smiling.

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, and then he wondered why Susannah’s smile made him feel as if he had butterflies in his stomach.

He quickly took a gulp of his cocoa, wondering what was the matter with him? Maybe it was something in the cocoa?

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sandra looking at Severus dreamily and thought that maybe that old Christmas magic had worked a bit too well.

At least he did until their guests had gone home some ten minutes later, and Severus whirled on Augustus and said sharply, “Grandfather, may I speak with you in private?”

“Something wrong, Severus?”

Severus did not answer, simply spun on his heel and began to climb the stairs to Augustus’ study.

Harry gazed after them, debating on whether he should go to bed and mind his own business or listen at the keyhole.