Harry lay prone on the floor in the living room at the Burrow. Small, chubby hands were tearing at his hair and Harry laughed.

“Go easy, Teddy. Leave me a few wisps.” The little boy was sitting on the floor beside Harry’s head and grabbed the thick, black hair with great concentration. As he did, Teddy’s own sandy-coloured, smooth baby hair suddenly changed colour and became the same raven black as Harry’s. Teddy was a Metamorphmagus just like his mother had been.

Nymphadora Tonks had also been an Auror, and Teddy’s father, Remus Lupin although struggling with his condition as a werewolf, had used to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix. They had both died little more than six months earlier, in the battle against Voldemort and, the orphaned Teddy was taken care of by his grand-mother, Dromeda Tonks. Harry had only met her once before, under particularly stressful circumstances. She bore a striking resemblance to her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, one of Voldemorts’s most devoted Death Eaters, but unlike Bellatrix and the third sister, Narcissa Malfoy, Dromeda Tonks had never sympathised with the Dark Lord, and she had dissociated herself from her original family when she had married a Muggle-born wizard.

The death of both her husband and her daughter had worn Dromeda Tonks ill, and she looked much older than Harry remembered her. Harry had learnt that Mrs Weasley had taken upon herself to help Mrs Tonks out with Teddy during the autumn as Mrs Tonks had not been well. The grieving widow and her grandson had spent Christmas at the Burrow together with the Weasley family, Harry and his friends.

For the moment being, both ladies were gone to London on a shopping trip and Harry, as Teddy’s appointed godfather, had volunteered for babysitting. Hermione and Ginny had promised to assist, but they had not been aware of the early hour Mrs Weasley and Mrs Tonks planned on leaving the house. All four young people had been out the night before, and it was only Harry who had been able to drag himself up, after only three hours sleep, and take on to play with the boy.

Mr Weasley and Percy Weasley had held Harry and Teddy company for a while when they breakfasted, before going to work at the Ministry. Christmas vacations were over for their part. Mr Weasley had shown Harry how to prepare some porridge with mashed apple for Teddy. The little boy’s face took on a series of expressions, shapes and colours out of impatience when Harry blew on the porridge so that Teddy would not scald his tongue. Harry was delighted with the undivided and gluttonous attention of the child as he ate his porridge and he laughed when the by magic un-knockable bowl danced around the table to avoid Teddy’s clumsy paws. The porridge had soon gone down and Harry gave Teddy a sugar-free biscuit to appease the boy who had started to grow impatient again.

“How are things at Hogwarts?” asked Mr Weasley. “I understand that Ron and Hermione are not happy with Professor Snape, because of something he did to you?”

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. He had asked his friends not to discuss Snape in front of the others, but had not been able to stop them from having an argument about the Acromentula paper a couple of days earlier. But maybe it would be a good idea to get an adult’s opinion about the whole affair, without heated interference from his, for his sake, indignant friends.

“It’s about that publication in the Potions Journal,” said Harry.

“I heard about it, at the Ministry. Severus has finally got his own back at Horace Slughorn - it was foul play of the old Professor to use Severus’ accident for marketing, without even giving him notice about it,” said Mr Weasely. ”And I have a feeling that although he enjoys his position as Headmaster, Severus is not used to, nor does he like, being the subject of attention in the press.”

“Well, it was my idea to publish the recipe of the Acromentula antidote. I wrote most of that paper, under Professor Snape’s guidance, of course. Ron and Hermione are upset because my name is not mentioned in the article,” explained Harry, watching carefully for Mr Weasley’s reaction. 

“Ah, I see!” Mr Weasley made a grimace. “Not very fair - no. But those journals have a jungle of regulations and some of them – and I would not be surprised if the “Journal of New Potions” is one of them – are extremely rigid when it comes to academic merits and titles. In the academic world, I’m afraid your name won’t have any bearings, Harry - you’re just too young and inexperienced. And the academic world, frankly, is snobbish. I don’t reckon any of those learned wizards and witches lifted a finger during the war. That's why I take my wizard hat off for Severus Snape. Despite all his flaws, he’s one of very few persons I know of, who combine on the one hand a pragmatic mind - you have to give him that he gets things done, and he was a terrific asset during the war - and on the other hand, a sharp intellect. He’s abundantly productive in several of the academic fields. Naturally, he would have no problem getting his article published in that kind of journal.”

Mr Weasley nodded knowingly and Harry looked at him with interest, as he absentmindedly handed Teddy another biscuit.

“I remember once..." Mr Weasly went on. "A colleague at the Department and I had confiscated an interesting Muggle artefact of Dark Arts, as part of the estate of a deceased witch. We looked it up in every book we could find, but it had not been described elsewhere. So we wrote an article - we had figured out its properties, you see - but as neither of us had any previous academic experience, none of the great respected journals would accept it. We had to descend to a pretty light magical magazine in order to be published at all. And we were grown-up employees at the Ministry! Even as a second author, I’m afraid to say, Harry, it’s just possible that they don’t accept to name those who haven’t moved on to higher studies,” explained Mr Weasley.

“I thought there might be something like that,” muttered Harry, “although I’ve seen that you're allowed to direct thanks to persons who have contributed to the work, at the end of the paper. Snape could have done that.”

“Yes, indeed. He could also have used his influence, which - being the Headmaster of Hogwarts - is great, to argue in your favour and have your name on that paper,” agreed Mr Weasley.

Harry pondered on his conversation with Mr Weasley as he lay prone on the floor with Teddy now climbing up and down his back. The child laughed as Harry stretched his arms backwards and pretended to catch the toddler to tickle him. Teddy loved to be tickled. Harry grew tired after a while, put his head down on the floor and let the child play with his hair again. He must have slumbered, for he startled when Hermione cried to him, suddenly, from the door opening.

“Watch out! Teddy’s standing on your back!” As Harry lifted his head, the boy lost his balance and fell backwards. Even if Harry had quick reflexes, he would not have had the time to whirl around and catch the boy before he hit his head. Instead, Harry saw, in the corner of his eyes, the small child transform in mid-air, twist miraculously and land on all fours. He had the time to see some white and grey fur and a pair of pointed ears. He reached out to grab the small animal, but first it bit his index and when he still held on, it yelped, slipped and changed shape in a strange way to escape his grip and disappeared quickly under the sofa. Both Hermione and Ginny had observed the incident from the door and came rushing in.

“What happened?” Ginny did not dare to speak aloud.

“Did he transform into a... you know?” whispered Hermione. Harry looked at the blood dripping from his finger.

“No, I don’t think he transformed into a werewolf. He looked just like a cub to me - an ordinary wolf cub, I mean,” he said.

“That’s right, a werewolf transformation comes in entirely different situations,“ said Hermione, relieved.

“But then Teddy’s a natural Animagus! A Metamorphmagus and an Animagus. I wonder whether his grand-mother knows?” said Ginny.

“Teddy?” Harry crept nearer the sofa and bent down to look at the frightened little cub who lay curled up against the wall. “It’s okay, Teddy... It was scary... Me too, I was afraid that you whould hurt yourself. It was really good that you could land like that. You’ll teach me one day. Come to me, Teddy, I want to give you a hug.” Harry spoke gently and sat waiting until the cub came out from under the sofa and transformed back to Teddy. The child crawled to Harry who lifted him up and the little boy started to cry against Harry’s shoulder.

***

Later that evening, Harry and Hermione were seated in two armchairs in front of a fire in the living room, with books in their hands. Mrs Tonks was putting Teddy to bed in a room upstairs. Judging by the noise the toddler made, he put on a good fight with his grand-mother. Ron had sacrificed himself for his sister’s sake and accompanied her out. Ginny wanted to make the most of the holidays and had decided to go dancing again, for the third evening in a row. They would, she called it, ”make an early night” which, by Ginny’s definition, meant they would be back shortly after midnight. They were to join Seamus and his girl-friend at a club in London. Harry had refused to go with her on account of his being up so early in the morning and because it was Teddy’s last evening at the Burrow. It owed him some sulking and nasty looks from Ginny, but he did not give in. Hermione had likewise declined because she had work to catch up with and Ron had rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Teddy was leaving with Mrs Tonks the next day. Some relatives of her late husband were coming to see them. That was the reason Mrs Weasley and she had left so early the day before, to tidy up her house before going to London. They had returned late in the afternoon to the Burrow. Harry had been the one responsible for dinner. The cooking skills he had acquired during the summer had not dissipated and he had been able to offer a good steak with succulent sauce, some rice and roasted vegetables to everyone’s satisfaction. Mrs Tonks and Mrs Weasley had lavished praise over him. The bustle of preparing Teddy for the night had ensued, as well as the arguments before Ron and Ginny set off to their amusements. At last, things had calmed down.

Mrs Weasley sat by herself in the sofa. She was folding Teddy’s newly washed clothes in neat piles for Mrs Tonks to put in their trunks. She did it by hand and not by magic, so Harry reckoned she just wanted to sit down and occupy herself, even if it was slower. Mrs Weasley looked sad and a bit misty-eyed from time to time. Harry supposed she would miss the little boy very much.

It was a painful fact that Mrs Weasley’s children were simply no longer children. Ron and Ginny were at their last year at Hogwarts. George had returned to live at his and Fred’s house at Diagon Alley which contained their joke shop on the ground floor with a flat above. George had brought a friend for dinner the other night, a young wizard called Hercules, who did not live up to his name by being a rather short and thin person, but with a handsome face and a magnificent beard. He held an apothecary next to George’s shop. With his help, George seemed to have gone back to doing some inventing again, in order to create new products for the shop. George looked less broken and hollow than during the summer. He even smiled from time to time. The incessant jokes that used to fly between his twin brother and him were conspicuous by their absence, though. George had become a rather silent and serious young man. His friend, however, was lively and ready to laugh at anything and Harry could see that he might be good for the forlorn twin. 

Percy lived on his own in London, even if he came to see his parents at least once a week now that they were back on speaking terms. Bill and Fleur had their own house by the sea and, as hard-working employees at Gringott’s and at the Ministry, they were often occupied by various engagements. Harry perceived a slight disappointment in Mrs Weasley because the young couple were so engrossed in their work and did not have time to visit very often. Fleur had just started on a new and improved position at the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic and had given all of them to understand that, as to grand children, Mrs Weasley would have to wait for some time. Bill and Fleur had left for France to celebrate the New Year with Fleur’s parents and younger sister. Charlie was home for the holidays. He would soon go back to his work with dragons in Romania, however. 

“Did you have a nice trip to London, you and Mrs Tonks?” Hermione asked Mrs Weasley. They had not had time to hear much about it at dinner.

“I guess so,” replied Mrs Weasley. “There are good prices now, so I bought some clothes at a real bargain, in Diagon Alley.” Mrs Weasley went silent for a while. Harry looked at her encouragingly. She smiled at him, but hesitated before she spoke again. “I accompanied Mrs Tonks to have tea with her sister, Narcissa,” she finally let out. Harry lifted his eyebrows.

“I thought they did not see each other,” he said. 

“I believe it was the first time after more than twenty years,“ answered Mrs Weasley slowly.

“Whose initiative...?” asked Harry, intrigued.

“Narcissa’s. I think she might have changed since the battle against Voldemort,” said Mrs Weasley. “She was a little haughty, as usual, of course, but not downright condescending. She was truly sympathising when speaking of Nymphadora and she inquired about Teddy. What intrigued me the most was that she offered to come and live with them for a while and help out with the child.”

Harry shook his head disbelievingly.

“I know,” said Mrs Weasley, and for some reason she lowered her voice. “I believe there might be something wrong between her husband and her and that she wants to get away from him. She didn’t mention Lucius at all, but still, that was the impression I got.”

Harry and Hermione looked at her with wide eyes. At that moment, Mrs Tonks came into the room.

“Molly, will you please give it a try” she said irritably. “The child is completely off colour - tired, but still refuses to lie down.“ Mrs Weasley rose.

“Give him his toy dog,” said Harry. “He went to sleep with it earlier today.” The stuffed animal was a Christmas present that Harry had offered Teddy. It was soft and magically warm, made breathing movements, opened and closed its eyes and made little sleepy whimpering sounds, but did not bark. Mrs Weasley and Mrs Tonks both disappeared from the room.

“Hermione?” said Harry after a while.

“Yes, what, Harry?” Hermione said distractedly as she lifted her eyes from her book.

“How was it for you to grow up without any magical persons around you?”

“Same as for you, I gather,” answered Hermione, surprised.

“The Dursleys actively loathed magic from the start and tried to punish it out of me,” said Harry. “Did your parents do that?”

“No - of course not! They were intrigued and a little frightened, at first. There were times when they were stern and disapproving, because I made things fly around and I would occasionally break things. I remember that I used to think it was unfair, because I couldn’t help it from happening and they seemed to think I did it on purpose. Therefore, the magic scared me too, at first. But my parents marvelled at my magic, as well. When I was delighted with something I used to make stars out of things and my mother thought it was beautiful,” Hermione told him.

“I never made anything magical happen out of delight that I can remember,” answered Harry quietly and looked into the fire. “It only came on when I was afraid or angry. They used to lock me up in my cupboard under the stairs without food when it happened, so I guess I tried to reign my magic in, because I knew I would be punished. Imagine the difference, though, growing up here at the Burrow, with wizard parents and siblings who did magic all the time, who might actually encourage you to explore your magic.”

“Yes, some difference...” Hermione agreed and looked around at the room which was unmistakably a room marked by magical hands and thinking. Neither of them had ever seen a house like this in the Muggle world.

“Did you ever experience the feeling of not being initiated, of being behind or... were you always able to compensate by learning from books, from the very start?” Harry asked.

“Oh, of course I felt out of place, at first, at Hogwarts, among the truly magical people. You cannot learn everything from books, you know,” exclaimed Hermione.

“You always seemed so... enlightened. You knew more than Ron sometimes. There were no flaws in your knowledge, like in mine,” Harry went on.

“Well, that was the problem, was it not? I worked so hard in order to make it appear I knew everything. Of course I didn't. And the strategy made me quite insufferable,” continued Hermione. Harry smiled at her.

“A little, in the beginning, before we got to know you,” he conceded. “But after that, Ron and I have only been grateful for your amazing capacity to absorb knowledge... and to come up with it in situations of need,” he added.

“You’re catching up with me now,” said Hermione.

“A bit, perhaps. But the point is: I feel now that I got a late start with my magic. There are many aspects to that, of course. I had a piece of Voldemort attached to me and it influenced some physical activities of my brain, like my sight and my ability to concentrate. But it was also the fact that I was occupied by him in my thoughts, if you know what I mean? Oh... not all the time... not at all. But it was always there, in the back of my head: a past abomination that I would want to retaliate against and a future threat.”

Hermione looked at him searchingly, what was he getting at?

“And with all those serious things to deal with, it sometimes was and sometimes still is, enormously irritating to stumble over my own ignorance of small, but important things, that everyone else considers matter of course. Like Trapping web for instance,” he added.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look.

“And I used to blame myself for it,” Harry continued, “because I didn’t read books. I compared myself to you. But you say you have experienced the same sort of sentiments.”

“Above all,” Hermione filled in, “it gave me a sense of inferiority that I needed to compensate. That, in turn, owned me taunts and jealousy.”

“Well, that is my point, really,” Harry said agitatedly. “We were inferior! Muggle-borns or children brought up by Muggles do not start on an equal level to children brought up in wizard families. And maybe that injustice is inevitable. We might even have some knowledge and views of things that they don’t. But it does not show to our advantage, because once we are accepted at Hogwarts, we mostly live in the magical world. To a point, however, I think it might be corrigible.”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Hermione frowned.

“Listen, I’ve got an idea,” said Harry.

“Your ideas usually mean a lot of work, Harry,” Hermione said suspiciously.

“Not for us, particularly, this time,” answered Harry. “I just need to know if you think it might be a good idea to ask… you know… Mrs Weasley,” he added in earnest.

“Mrs Weasley!” exclaimed Hermione.

“Listen!” Harry bent forward and explained to Hermione what he wanted to do. “…And Mrs Weasley might want to have something to occupy herself with when we’re all gone again,” he ended his argumentation. Hermione looked at him first in doubt, but it changed into exultation.

“That’s brilliant!” she exclaimed. “Here she comes down again. Let’s ask her.” Mrs Weasley looked a little surprised when Harry and Hermione came over to sit on each sides of her in the sofa but she listened attentively as they went along explaining.

***

A couple of days later, Harry was seated at the table in the kitchen at the Burrow. The previous night had been their last night out and the four of them - Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry - had not been back at the Burrow until five o’clock in the morning. They were scheduled to return to Hogwarts the following day. It was past midday, but Harry still wore his pyjamas and was having some sort of brunch. He was the only one up among the young people. Suddenly, Charlie, who sat at the opposite side of the table, chuckled as he turned a page in the Daily Prophet.

“Did you have a spot of trouble, last night at the...” Charlie bent forward to spell it out “Xenophoria Club?”

Harry froze and looked at Charlie suspiciously. How did he know that Ginny had at last persuaded him to go with her to the newly opened wizard club in London? He had resisted the idea to the very last, on grounds that had proven to be well-founded down to every detail.

Charlie turned the paper for him to show a photograph under the headline “Popular Potter” in large letters on top of the page. He saw himself in the middle of a huge group of young girls and fancy-clad boys. The moving photo showed how the screaming young people pressed in on him while he was trying to fend them off. A smaller photograph to the right showed him standing at Ginny’s side where Ginny looked radiant and confident, while Harry appeared to hunch and cling to her. At least, neither photo really showed his face. He was partly hidden by Ginny on one photo and looking down on the other. All you could see was his mop of black, unruly hair and, between the parted strands of his fringe, on his forehead, the barely discernible, famous scar, which, however, proved to the public that it was, indeed, Harry Potter in that club.

The press was out of recent photographs on him and Harry tried to keep it that way. He would prefer to melt into anonymity. For obvious reasons he had stayed hidden during the most part of the previous year, and after the battle, during which no photos had been taken, he had withdrawn into a voluntary exile at the Burrow. Growing taller and with more adult features, especially without his glasses, he was not that easily recognised any longer. But, he thought bitterly, one person had been enough, yesterday, to start spreading the news of his appearance at the club.

It had been just as awful as it looked. He had tried to stick to Ginny and dance with her, but as soon as she withdrew the slightest, he was assaulted from all directions by people. There had been other students from Hogwarts at the club, mostly Slytherins, who had laughed up their sleeves as they saw him struggle. It was a fancy club for rich wizards and that was another reason for Harry to feel uncomfortable. He did not identify himself as rich and famous.

He had endured two hours of constant attention and harassment before he had declared to Ginny that he had had enough and that he was leaving, with or without her. Ron and Hermione had not enjoyed themselves particularly either, feeling out of place just as Harry. Ginny moved with ease, however. She danced beautifully and attracted bunches of admirers, both men and women, around her, but did not seem bothered by this. On the contrary, she seemed to know exactly how to communicate silently with them, tantalising them just enough to keep up their fascination, but with retained respect for her integrity. She was a queen you did not dare to approach without permission, but could revolve around for ages.

Ginny understood Harry’s determination to leave and, having had her fill of glamour, she consented to Apparate with them to the Muggle club in Buxton where they usually were left alone, unrecognised. It had been tricky to leave the club unnoticed, though. Even if Harry had roared at his fans to let go of him, because he was going to Apparate, some had still clung to him. He Apparated only a quarter away to see how many would follow. Two witches had been splinched. This, too, was reported by the Daily Prophet under the heading “Reckless Potter”. Harry had made sure that other people were taking the splinched girls to St Mungo’s before he Apparated along to Buxton, but the paper made out that he had been completely indifferent to their sufferings. He sighed and looked at Charlie who shrugged with a sympathetic smile. 

Harry turned the paper to look at the front page to check if they had put a headline about him there as well, but something completely different met his eye. The black heading said: “They face trial this year” with tight rows of small photos picturing the faces of twenty wizards and witches covering the front page. He recognised Lucius Malfoy with his cold, grey eyes and long, blond hair, Dolohov’s square face, Macnair’s evil eyes, Umbrigde’s smirking smile and, with a jolt in his chest, Snape’s dark, deep-set eyes and high cheek-bones, curtained by black hair.

Ron and Hermione turned up in the kitchen just then and Harry showed them the paper without a word.

“It’ll start now,” said Ron grimly. ”Especially those who were left on probation and are not already in Azkaban - like Snape. The press will pester them.”

“Yeah, I wondered when they would get at it. I thought they would begin sooner. But a new year’s a nice pretext to start, of course. And the Wizengamot must be rounding up their investigations. I must say that I’m impressed by their thoroughness. Let’s see what they say about Snape,“ said Hermione and turned the pages without having sat down.

“Anytime you’re finished, I’ll have my paper back,” said Charlie sourly.

“Just a minute,” Hermione mumbled distractedly. “This is important. I’m preparing a defence case. I need to see what they say about him.”

Charlie pulled an incredulous face and looked inquiringly at Ron.

“We’re defending Snape,” Ron explained curtly to his brother. 

“Oh, dear,” said Hermione. “He won’t like this. Listen: Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is accused of (1) Double spying for Voldemort and deceiving the Order of the Phoenix, (2) Killing the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbeldore and (3) Initiating and encouraging cruel treatment  of the students at Hogwarts school under the directions of Voldemort. His defence consists in having killed Professor Dumbledore as an agreement between the two of them and his motive for changing sides would allegedly have been personal in the romantic range.“

“So long, it’s rather objectively written, although it sounds absurd in such a short version,” said Harry, “and Snape won’t like that they even faintly suggest a romantic motive. I understand him - it’s none of their business...”

“Well, it’s thanks to you, mate, that the rumour is around,” Ron pointed out.

“I know,” squirmed Harry, “I had to, remember? And I thought Snape was dead.”

“We know, Harry... Listen to this. Severus Snape declines to comment on the accusations, but gives to understand, forcibly, to our reporter that he absolutely refuses to elaborate on his motives for working for Dumbledore. And this is just the beginning,” said Hermione with a sigh.