“He is absolutely precious, my liege. A true gem for the crown.”

“Oh yes, my lord. Your son will truly make a marvelous king when he comes of age.”

King Xavier, Lord of the Water-dwellers, looked fondly at the sleeping infant in his arms. The boy was hardly a week old, and already he had the entire kingdom wrapped around his little fingers. Xavier bowed his head over his son, allowing some of his long black hair to tickle his forehead.

“Of course he will make an excellent king, Vox,” Xavier said without looking up at his manservant. “He is my son, is he not?”

“He is, my lord,” Vox bowed respectfully. Xavier gave one of his rare smiles, though he was only half listening to his servants. The boy in his arms had opened his eyes, revealing two brilliant emeralds that shamed every jewel the Water-dwelling aristocrats could ever get their greedy hands on. Suddenly, Xavier remembered the presence of the other manservant. Ever so carefully, he placed the boy in the small carriage beside him.

“What business brings you here, Pax?”

“My lord’s wife wishes to speak with you immediately.”

Xavier smiled again, as this meant his wife was no longer weak from childbirth and was perfectly healthy.

“Send her in straight away. You and Vox may retire.” The two servants bowed and left Xavier’s study. A moment later, a beautiful woman entered the room. Queen Lelia’s hair was brilliantly red, as were her lips which shamed the rubies of the lands above. Her skin was flawlessly white and was only interrupted by two eyes identical to those of her son. Her dainty feet took slow, deliberate steps towards her husband, who couldn’t help but roll his eyes; she was a dreadful tease sometimes.

Finally, she reached him. Her eyes were bright with joy. “Xavier,” she breathed, “I have missed you.”

“And I you, my love,” he said, pulling her to his chest. “Would you like to see our son?” Lelia nodded enthusiastically, her green eyes sparkling in the way that had made Xavier fall in love with her.  Together, the royal couple made their way before the boy, who by now was wide awake. Upon seeing his mother, he smiled hugely and reached his arms upwards. Lelia gasped and immediately the boy was in her arms.

“He is perfect, just like his father!” Xavier barked a laugh at this and stood behind his wife.

“A perfect son needs a perfect name, my lady,” he whispered gently into her ear. Lelia thought for a moment and smiled. She turned to face her husband, the baby still in her arms.

“So he does, my lord. Therefore, I bestow upon my son the title of Lord Harry, prince of the Water-dwellers.”

“Harry?” Xavier sounded surprised. “It is not a name that I am familiar with, Lelia. Are you certain?”

She gave him a haughty stare and said, “Of course I am certain, Xavier. I think a mother knows what is best for her child. As to the name being unfamiliar, I see his path and his reign having unprecedented success. Surely a future monarch with such an uncommon destiny deserves an uncommon name?” she gave him a sly look.

Xavier nearly smiled again at his wife’s antics. She could be deliciously manipulative as well, and her occasional premonitions were more often than not spot on.

“What say you, my son? Shall you be Lord Harry?” The baby clapped his hands, giving off an irresistible peal of laughter. “Then from this moment on, my son and heir shall be called Lord Harry, Prince of the Water-dwellers.”

Lelia grinned broadly. “Severus!” she called.A tall man with hair nearly as dark and as long as Xavier’s appeared. He was dressed in the garments of an Over-dweller, though he seemed rather uncomfortable in them.

“Her ladyship commands my presence?” Severus stared at his queen with such intense adoration, Xavior snaked a jealous arm around her waist.

“Take my son and await my presence in my private quarters. There are matters about which I would like to discuss with you.”

Harry Potter rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He’d had that dream again; the same one he seemed to have every birthday since before he could remember. Only recently had the dream begun to occur more often. Now it seemed as though Harry was having it every night.

“Are you awake yet, mate?” Ron yelled impatiently.

“Yeah, I’m up,” Harry yawned, not wanting to make his friend wait too much longer for breakfast. Quickly donning a sweatshirt, some jeans, and his trainers, he followed Ron down the stairs to the kitchen of the Burrow. The rest of the Weasleys and Hermione were already seated at the table, eating.

“Really, Ronald, you couldn’t have come a bit faster? Your food’s likely frozen solid by now,” Mrs. Weasley scolded gently.

“Don’t blame me, mum. Harry’s the one who wouldn’t get his lazy arse out of bed.”

“Watch your language in this house, Ronald Weasley,” Mrs. Weasley said shrilly. “And don’t blame Harry either. You likely kept him up all night with your talk of Quidditch and whatnot.”

“But mum-“

“That is enough, Ronald,” Mr. Weasley finally interjected. “You and Harry take your places at the table this instant!”

Shooting a dark look at both of his parents, Ron took his time with obeying. Finally, when Mr. Weasley looked angry enough for even the twins to look worried, Ron sat, muttering into his plate.

Harry took his seat next to Hermione, not feeling up to dealing with Ron. As close as he was to the redhead, there were times where Harry just wasn’t sure how they had ever managed to remain friends. He was just so…common.

Harry blinked in surprise. Where had that come from? It wasn’t as though he thought he was better than Ron. That wasn’t the case at all. So where had that thought come from…?

“Harry?” Hermione said briskly, but stuttered at the glower she received from him. Sometimes Hermione could be absolutely infuriating…

“What?” he asked coldly. Hermione seemed to shrink even more into her chair.

“I-I was just wondering if you wanted help with Professor Flitwick’s essay tonight.”

Harry sighed tiredly. Lately he’d been rather quick with everyone, particularly Hermione. It’s not your fault, he reasoned with himself. They shouldn’t have made me lose my train of thought…

“Thank you Hermione,” he said quietly, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed tight. “I’d appreciate that.”

Hermione nodded meekly and returned to her porridge, not bothering to berate him for not finishing it sooner.

“Dad,” George said finally, breaking the tension, “have our letters come yet?”

“No, I don’t believe they have,” Mr. Weasley said thoughtfully. “We have plenty of time before they’re due, though boys. It’s only the 8th of July.”

“And it’s out of our hands anyhow,” Mrs. Weasley said flatly. “Ginny, Hermione dear, won’t you help me with the dishes?” As everyone ran about to do their various daily activities, no one noticed Harry slip outside. The morning was warm and bright, absolutely perfect for what Harry planned to do. Quickly, he made his way toward the little known stream behind the orchard where he, Ron and the twins played Quidditch. After looking around to make sure he was completely hidden by the trees, Harry peeled himself out of his clothing until he was in only his underthings and stepped into the water. Immediately, all of the tension left his body, his mind calming drastically as he waded into the deeper parts of the stream. Harry was in absolute bliss. It had been ages since he had been able to come here, to be one with the living waters and all that inhabited it. There was nothing more pure and beautiful in all the world, Harry thought. On an impulse, Harry leaned back so that he was floating on top of the water, his usually unruly hair flowing along with the currents of the stream.

Harry was completely at ease and totally unaware that he was being watched.

Severus Snape awoke from a familiar dream as well, though one that was by far less pleasant in his mind. He had been forced to yet again relive the wedding of his beloved queen to a common rat, unworthy of her presence. It had been bad enough to see her married off to Xavier, but to sink so low as to seek shelter from an Over-dweller? Severus nearly wept right then at the thought of it.

Suddenly a spot on his chest began to burn. Groaning, Severus pulled the golden medallion from underneath his shirt. It hadn’t bothered him all summer, much to his surprise. It seemed like the boy was always getting into some sort of trouble at school. Severus quickly placed the medallion in his palm and watched as an image materialized out of thin air.

An image of the boy lying face up in a stream startled Severus for a moment before he saw him open his eyes. What was the danger, then? Ah, he’s alone, Severus realized, rolling his eyes. Didn’t the boy know better than to wander off on his own, especially in times such as these?

Apparently not, Severus thought sneering at the young boy, the son of the man’s only love, and his sovereign prince.

Though there didn’t appear to be any immediate threat to the boy, Severus increased the wards surrounding him all the same. His mother wouldn’t approve of her only son wandering about without protection. Not that the little urchin doesn’t do it anyway.

With a sigh, Severus left his chambers and headed toward the lake. He had decided to take a page out of the boy’s book, as the past few weeks had been much too stressful, and he needed contact with living waters.

Taking the time to cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, Severus cast aside his clothing and waded into the cool water. Bliss overcame him, and he thought he could see Lelia’s face again.