“Hey, Harry” a hand shook Harry out of his reverie. “Are you okay?”

Harry, who had been sitting, staring, unseeing, into the empty fireplace, looked up.

“Hi Ron, Hermione. Yeah, I’m fine. How did your detentions go? I hope Snape wasn’t too much of a bastard.” Said Harry, forcing his brain into the here and now.

“It was quite interesting, actually,” replied Hermione sitting down “Professor Snape needed some research done into the medicinal properties of a fanged lobelia and belladonna hybrid. He let me use his personal library. He has a number of self-updating journals.” She smiled beautifically.

Ron rolled his eyes. “I had to help Madam Hooch teach some dumb first years how not to fall off their brooms. Remedial flying class. They were hopeless to begin with but I managed to teach them the basics.” A glimmer of pride sparkled in his blue eyes.

“Doesn’t sound too bad, by Snape’s standards. Hogsmeade was boring” Harry said, fishing around in a paper bag “It was too hot and the shops were all really crowded. I got you some fudge” he chucked a thick packet at Ron “and some raspberry chocoballs” he handed a box to Hermione.

“Thanks mate.”

“Thank you Harry.”

“Better go get our trunks” said Harry. “The Hogwarts express leaves in an hour.”
“Yeah.” said Ron “You know, it’s kind of odd, getting back on the train without having some major drama or other. I almost feel like something is going to happen.”

“The Final Challenge wasn’t dramatic enough?” asked Hermione, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Yeah, you’re right.” smiled Ron. “I guess it’s just because it’s usually us and Harry facing whatever together. Not that I miss it life-threatening situations, of course” He laughed “I’m not mad enough to think a year without You-know-who resurrecting himself is a year wasted!”

oOoOo

Privet Drive: beige, uniform and soul-rottingly boring. Harry sighed: it could have been worse. After picking him up from the station, his Uncle had scarcely said two words to him and, as soon as Harry had dragged his trunk to the door, his Aunt and cousin had stepped outside, looking at him as if he was a piece of dog turd, before climbing into the car with his Uncle and driving off. Good riddance.

Harry dragged his trunk up the stairs. It was a good omen, he guessed, that they hadn’t locked up his things. It must be the influence of the Azkaban escapee Godfather, Harry thought, smirking to himself.

On entering his bedroom, however, Harry noticed two things. Firstly, in the corner, amid the bland, white pine, factory formed furniture, was a tall, dark-wood cupboard, intricately carved with twisting vines. Secondly, on the bed was a leather bound book, the title embossed in slightly worn gold print.

Harry gently lowered Hedwigs cage onto the side table and stepped over to the bed. “The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe?” he murmured, picking up the thick book. The leather cover felt warm and smooth under his skin.

Harry sat down on the bed. This didn’t add up. He could understand the wardrobe, just. His Aunt and Uncle used his bedroom as a junkroom: maybe it was some recently-acquired heirloom too valuable to throw away.

However the book was a different story. It was lying on his bed, like a gift. Petunia and Vernon weren’t known for their generosity, at least, not to him. Besides, they wouldn’t exactly give him a ‘welcome home’ present, that would imply that he was welcome in their home.

Besides, neither his Aunt nor his Uncle were great readers: Vernon read the papers and Petunia had her glossy mags and bad romance novels but, really, they preferred to watch TV.

And, even if they wanted to buy him a book it would not be one about witches.

They weren’t fond of antiques either. Harry’s Aunt and Uncle liked things new and shining from the factory. They’d never see the beauty in the smooth, faded leather of this volume, the soft, worn embossing, the yellowed pages.

It just didn’t add up. Someone, probably someone magical, had been in his room and left him- for their own, probably slightly deranged, reasons- a wardrobe and a book about a wardrobe. It didn’t get any more cryptic than this.

Harry set the book down on the bed and walked over to examine the wardrobe. To his surprise, Harry realised that the vines were, in fact, snakes.

*“Huh?”*

A snake- a carved, wooden snake- wriggled to life *“Hello Sssspeaker.”*

*“Uh, Hello.”* replied Harry, only now realising that he was speaking in Parseltongue. It seemed that he was right.

*“You want in?”*

*“Um, yesss pleassse.”*

The wardrobe creaked open

*“Thanksss”*

*“You’re welcome”*

The smell of mothballs assailed Harry’s nose as he beheld a plethora of old coats: frock coats, military coats, leather jackets, tweed coats, luxuriant furs, even- a nice touch- a long, blue velvet cloak. Feeling rather stupid, Harry stuck his arm into the mass of fabric, reaching to find the back of the wardrobe.

The first surprise was that his questing fingers did not find wooden boards, just thin air.

The second surprise was when he felt a warm, soft hand grab his own and haul him inside.

oOoOo

A flash of red hair and green eyes flew past Harry’s eyes as he fell into the arms of his mother.

“Mum?!” he gasped, straightening up. Lily looked up at him, smiling. She was a pretty witch with long, curly hair the rich deep red of mahogany and eyes the colour of holly leaves, behind wire-framed glasses.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses” Harry said quietly.

“I switched to contact lenses when I entered Hogwarts.”

“Oh.” To escape the slight awkwardness of the moment, Harry looked around the room; it was a spacious kitchen with high ceilings and large bay windows. The walls were painted a soft cream and the furniture was predominantly aged oak, stained a dark gold by the sunshine of many years. Unlike Aunt Petunia’s fitted kitchen, however, the oak furniture was in a hodge-podge of designs; similar enough to compliment, yet different enough not appear monotonous. There was a dresser, crammed with beautiful china of various patterns, shelves stacked with cookery books, a large table surrounded by elegant chairs, and a large, porcelain butlers sink, flanked by marble topped cupboards. In one corner an immense, dark green Aga crouched and, above their heads, hung an art deco, frosted glass lamp, in the form of a lily.

“Where are we?” asked Harry.

“Tom’s place. The boys are out now. They thought we ought to have some time alone.” said Lily, sitting down. “Are you hungry?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll just fix us some lunch. We, er, keep rather late hours at this house” Lily said with an impish grin.

She walked over and opened a door, revealing a set of shelves stocked with milk, a butter-dish several wheels of cheese, a couple of casserole dishes and a number of assorted jars. “What sort of cheese do you like, Harry? We have cheddar, brie, camembert, stilton, emmantal, caephilly, and y fenni- it’s like cheddar but with mustard seeds and ale.”

“Um, brie would be good” replied Harry.

Lily grabbed a wheel of white cheese, a bottle of cider and the butter dish, setting them on the table before going to another cupboard and picking up a bowl of apples, pears and grapes and a loaf of bread.

At that moment there was a bark at the door.

“Let him in, Harry.”

Harry walked over to the door, which was in two sections: the upper half was clear glass and the lower half was wood. Harry bent down and unbolted the bottom section of the door and was bowled over by something small, blond and very fluffy.

When Harry opened his eyes, he was looking into the most beautiful, round, liquid brown eyes he had ever seen- Cho Chang included. The puppy’s muzzle was inky black, a vivid contrast to the silky blond hair on his face and plump little body. The pads of his paws were soft as nappa leather.

“Hey, little guy” Harry stroked the puppy’s head. The dog licked his nose with a soft, bubblegum pink tongue.

“Tom thought that, as you were so fond of, er, ‘Snuffles’, you might like a puppy of your own.” Lily laughed. “Once you guys are done making out, perhaps you could wash your hands and come to the table.”

“You know about Snuffles, then?” Harry asked, shuffling over to the sink: the puppy was playfully attacking his laces.

“Yeah.” Lily’s expression suddenly darkened but, on looking over at her son, she shook her head ruefully and smiled.

“Come and sit down Harry. We need to talk about some things.”

OoOoO

Once Lily had helped Harry to cheese, grapes, warm bread and a glass of cider, she started talking.

“When I was a little girl, not much more than a toddler, really, I realised that, sometimes, if I really wanted something to happen, it would. I thought it was all to do with wishes, like I had a fairy godmother or something. However, by the time I was six, I’d discovered that I could make these wishes come true all by myself. For example, at the park, I could swing really high and, when I jumped off the swing, instead of falling on the concrete like a sack of potatoes, I’d float like a bit of thistledown. I thought it was great fun but it annoyed my sister, Petunia, no end. She was worried that someone would see us.”

“Sounds like the Petunia I know” said Harry.

Lily pulled a face like she had a bad taste in her mouth but continued “Someone did see me. A little boy from a nearby housing estate. All the kids thought he was weird. He was very bright, hyper-intelligent in fact, well above the level of the other kids, so he was rather aloof. He was also… well, not conventionally handsome and, to make matters worse, his mother wasn’t very well off; his clothes came from charity shops and, although Eileen did her best to keep him tidy… well, there are some people too poor to afford soap.”

“The little boy approached me and Petunia one day; I had been playing with a flower, making it open and close. He… well, he told me I was a witch and I took offence, thinking he meant the storybook kind.” Lily smiled, sadly “However, the little boy was brave enough to try again and we became friends. He was a half-blood; his father was a muggle and his mum was a witch, so he knew all about magic. He was… very sweet, in a awkward sort of way, and very kind. He had a whip-crack temper, though. He once accidentally cast a severing charm on a branch above Tuney’s head when she was mean to us.”

Harry grinned; he liked the sound of this kid, who seemed rather a lot like him at the same age- apart from the hyper-intelligent bit.

“When I was about seven, my friend turned up at the playground with his hair clean and shining and wearing beautiful, expensive clothes; a really nice cotton shirt, a red cashmere jumper and some wool trousers. He was really excited; he had a secret, a wonderful secret. His rich ‘Uncle’ Tom, a wizard, had come back from America. Apparently his ‘Uncle’ had left before his mum, Eileen, and dad, Tobias, married, a few months before my friend was born, not knowing Eileen was pregnant at the time…”

“Oh.” said Harry, comprehension dawning.

“Yeah.” Lily smiled “We found out the truth much later. Tom had started travelling pretty much immediately after he left school but he returned to England- briefly- to enquire about a teaching post at Hogwarts. His application was turned down and he spent a night at ‘the Seven Broomsticks’ in Knockturn Alley, where he met Eileen; they had known each other at Hogwarts and got chatting. Tom left in the morning for Japan, not knowing that she was with child. When Eileen realised she was pregnant, she was too proud to write to him; they had parted by mutual consent and she didn’t want Tom to marry her just because of an accidental pregnancy. Eileen, who was quite a powerful witch, slowed the pregnancy right down using a charm, so it wouldn't show so soon. However, she couldn't delay it forever and, when her parents found out, they threw her off. In desperation, Eileen married Tobias, a muggle who had long worshiped her. He told her that he didn’t mind looking after another man’s child.”

Lily sighed. “However, it turned out that Tobias did mind and, after a brief, largely disastrous marriage, he got drunk one night and wrapped his car around a tree, killing himself. Luckily for Eileen, she’d had his life insured, which helped them scrape by until Tom came back and discovered what had happened to his childhood sweetheart.”

“Tom was aghast when he learnt what had happened and immediately insisted on relieving them. Hardship had worn down Eileen’s pride and, after a brief period of reluctance, she allowed Tom to move them to a nicer house and give her a decent stipend. Tom had become quite wealthy: he’s an artist and his paintings sold well in both the muggle and magical markets.”

Lily’s face saddened.

“Anyway, when we were eleven, we got our Hogwarts letters and Tom took us to Kings Cross on September 1st. He had to disguise himself using polyjuice potion and, at the time, I didn’t understand why. On the train we met two little boys, James Potter and Sirius Black. They were really unpleasant to my friend; he simply said that he wanted to be in Slytherin and James immediately started taunting him.”

“James Potter?” said Harry, sitting up “I thought…”

“James Potter was an arrogant little toerag. His parents had longed for a child for many years and, when he arrived, he was thoroughly spoilt: until he went to Hogwarts, James’ little universe was filled with people who told him that he was the most intelligent, beautiful, talented little boy in the world and he was given everything he desired. At school, it was much the same. Minerva and Albus flat out worshipped him, as did most of the Gryffs.”

Lily took a deep breath, calming herself.

“My friend was sorted into Slytherin and I was sorted into Gryffindor. However, against our Housemates' wishes, we remained really close friends and, as I grew up, I fell in love with him. He later told me that had loved me since the first day he’d seen me. When we graduated, we started Masters courses: his was in Alexandria, in Egypt, mine was in Berlin but we saw each other often enough.”

“One day, however, my fiancée, we were engaged at the time, called round unexpectedly. He seemed strange, unlike himself. He told me that he had decided to join the Dark Lord, who he said could offer him much more than he could ever hope to earn as a Research Assistant. He said that marrying me was no longer an option because I was muggleborn and his Lord had views on our place in his world. Therefore, he was throwing off our engagement.”

Lily sighed deeply.

“I don’t know why I didn’t find this complete about-face suspicious at the time. Maybe I’d always thought that he was too good for me. Maybe I was so upset and angry, I just wasn’t thinking straight. Anyway, I told him to get the hell out and to keep away from me.”

“Do you think he was he under the imperius?” asked Harry curiously.

“Worse than that. ‘He’ was bloody Sirius Black under polyjuice.”

“What?!” Harry spluttered.

“Oh yes. And Sirius visited my fiancee in Alexandria, disguised as me, and told him that I was finishing with him. With unmerited cruelty. He was heartbroken. Sirius apparently did it because James wanted me for himself. Unfortunately for him, however, he was a little too late.”

“How do you mean?” asked Harry, his face pale. Lily reached over and took his hand.

“There’s no easy way of telling you this, Harry but, perhaps, knowing what James really was will help a little. When Black destroyed my relationship, I was already carrying you.”

“But… That can’t be right.” Harry gasped “I look so much like James.”

“Pure coincidence. You get your eyes from me; same shape, colour and, sadly, strength: I can scarcely see past my nose without glasses or contacts. Your hair and build are your father’s, which he inherited from Tom: worn long, Tom’s hair is merely wavy. If you cut it, it looks like he’s been pulled through a hedge backwards. And forwards. And possibly sideways” Lily laughed “That’s why my fiancee always used hair gel- which doesn’t mix well with potions fumes, let me tell you.”

Lily’s smile faded “Of course, when I thought my fiancee had dumped me, I was much too proud to tell him that I was with child. So history repeated itself: I married the man who had long adored me to give a father to my baby. James was there and I didn’t want to be a single mother.” Lily ran a finger absentmindedly around the rim of her cider glass “My choice of husband was, I am ashamed to admit, partially to spite my fiancee; he loathed James Potter with a passion. However, I did not tell James I was pregnant with you.”

“James and I were happy enough for a time: he never suspected that you might not be his biological child and, I am almost ashamed to admit it, I didn’t feel guilty. I knew what James was: he was a user and, if I used him in return, so what.”

Lily rubbed her forehead. “James was a member of Dumbledore’s little club, the Order of the Phoenix. He started coming home with more and more stories about Voldemort; the people he’d killed, his blood-supremacist philosophies, his determination to become the next Adolph Hitler. I didn’t pay much attention to it. Although the Papers seemed determined to mire us in doom or gloom, there was suspiciously little activity for a group so vicious and bloodthirsty as the ‘Death Eaters’ seemed to be: a handful of Phoenix members dying in brawls, one or two ‘gas leaks’ which might or might not have been gas leaks, a few sudden deaths of politicians which- quite honestly- weren’t all that suspicious if you looked into things, etc. It didn’t add up to me. It wasn’t a ‘Night of the Long Knives’. More like ‘Afternoon of the Peashooters’.”

“One day, James came back really agitated, saying we had to leave our house immediately. Apparently this Voldemort was after you. James said there was this prophesy; it said that you would be the one to defeat Voldemort and, somehow, he’d overheard it and decided to come after you.”

Lily smiled wryly “So off we went to Godric’s Hollow. The house was under Fidelus and Peter was our secret-keeper. Dumbledore suggested him, no doubt knowing that Peter was in cahoots with Tom: when Sirius and James broke us up, Peter had finally grown some balls. He saw what his friends were capable of doing and he wanted out.”

“Marcus Quentin, a mutual friend of Peter and Tom, spent a boozy night at the pub with Peter, who eventually spilled what James and Sirius had done. Marc told Tom, who, of course, was my fiancee’s father and Tom decided to meet Peter, got to know him, etcetera.”

“When James and I moved to Godric’s Hollow and named Peter secret-keeper, Tom started to become very concerned. He was pretty sure there was a mole in his group, The Order of the Pegasus, and it seemed to him as if someone was practically paving the way for him to kill me and James: he had the ‘motive’, he had the opportunity but whoever had planned this was very misguided: Tom isn’t a murderer and especially not some sort of Herod. He’d never kill a baby, let alone the son of a girl he loved like a daughter. Besides, the prophecy referred to a child born at the end of July and there were two, you and Neville Longbottom.”

“Tom decided that he had to do something. He was going to visit Godric’s Hollow, going to tell us that he had no intention of hurting you and that we were being set up. He’d decided to visit us on Halloween but, on the 30th October, James and I received a surprise invitation to the Longbottoms’ for dinner and James, who liked Frank, insisted that we went.”

Lily stood up and went over to the Aga “I’ve already told you what happened after that Halloween meal.” She said quietly. “I don’t really want to discuss it again. Now, I’ve got some steamed pudding; Tom made it for you on hearing that you liked treacle tart.”

Lily bustled around, decanting the syrupy sauce into a jug, grabbing bowls and spoons, fetching a jug of custard from the cold-larder. And giving Harry time to think.

When Lily sat back down, having furnished Harry with a bowl of sticky-toffee pudding, Harry asked a question which had been flitting in and out of his mind like an icy butterfly.

“Mum, you never told me my father’s name.”

Lily looked up, tears in her eye. “Oh Harry, I wish… I wish you could have known him when I knew him. When he was young and sweet and so very kind and thoughtful. Before Sirius Black destroyed him.”

“Mum?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“His name is Severus Snape.”