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Chapter Text

"Wake up.  Cousin wake up," Dudley Dursley said, pounding down the stairs that was the ceiling of Harry Potter's cupboard under the stairs bedroom.   Harry Potter was the only Potter living at Number Four Privet Drive, in the large Dursley Family, but that wasn't why he was sleeping under the stairs.  He'd asked to turn it into a very small bedroom as a way to not have to share a bedroom with his then three-year-old cousin Bradley as well as Dudley.  Dudley often groused about Harry's successful move.  It may have had just enough room for his mattress and a set of shelves behind it, but he didn't have to share a room with any of his seven cousins.

Harry reached back and picked up his glasses from the shelf behind him.  Sliding them on he moved to open the door and get out.  He had kitchen duty this morning, which was Dudley's birthday.  As such, Dudley had the day off from helping.  As soon as he stood up, his oldest cousin bumped into him, nearly sending him back into the cupboard.  It was part of their regular morning ritual.

Harry took the apron off the hanger next to the door, and put it on over his t-shirt and boxers.  Morning at the Dursley's was decidedly casual.  Harry only wore a t-shirt to bed because he had to cook in the morning.  The rest of the children in the household tended to come to breakfast in their underpants.  Harry fired up the gas stove, and began frying up the sausage and eggs that his uncle insisted on.  He looked out into the dining room and discovered that despite the fact that it was his birthday, Dudley was putting out the spoons and forks.  The pile of plates were already at the end of the counter, waiting for the orders.  

"Dud, it's your birthday, its Lily's job," Harry said.

"I saw her coming out of her and Violet's room.  Best not to get on her bad side today."  Dudley said.  "Plus this is easy, and what else would I do while waiting for breakfast?  I'm not going up and waking Bradley and Noel.  Better to let the two little terrors that I share my room with sleep in and enjoy the bliss."

"Warning, Lily is not in a good mood this morning," Violet said, as the eight-year-old entered the kitchen.  "I just want a grapefruit today, Harry.  And I'll handle the drinks."

"Coming right up," Harry said.  He removed the grapefruit from the fridge, cut it in half, and put both halves in bowls.  He handed one bowl to Violet, and left the other on the counter for Aunt Petunia.  Back to the stove, and it looked like the first batch of eggs was ready.  He slid them to on to a couple plates, and started the next batch, just in time for the sausage to be ready.  "Three sausages today, Dudley?"

"Yes," Dudley replied getting up to get his plate.  He returned to the seat at the head of the table.  On your birthday, you got to sit there.  Violet gave him his glass of orange juice.

A fully dressed Uncle Vernon arrived, obviously still a bit asleep.  Normally Harry would have had a cup of coffee ready for him, but his doctor had ordered him to cut back, and Aunt Petunia had promptly stopped buying it as an unnecessary expense.  Harry handed his uncle the plate he'd just prepared for him.

Vernon nodded to Harry and said, "Happy Birthday, Dudley.  How's my eleven-year-old man?"

"Good Dad," Dudley replied, as the two youngest Dursley girls arrived, six-year-old Iris and four-year-old Primrose.  Harry poured out their cereal, and added some milk, missing a bit of Dudley's reply.  "Do you have to go to work today?"

"I have to put food on the table," Uncle Vernon replied, as nine-year-old Lily entered the kitchen.  Her long strawberry blond hair made her stand out among the mostly blond Dursleys.  "Lily, I remind you once again, you're old enough that you should be wearing a shirt to breakfast."

"Dudley doesn't have to wear one," Lily replied.

"Dudley's a boy," Vernon said.  "You're a girl who is just starting to develop.  Go back upstairs and put a shirt on."  

She stood there for a moment, staring down her father. Harry hadn't really noticed, but Lily did have a little bit of a mound now under her nipples.  Staring contest lost, Lily stomped her foot and pounded back up stairs, as the last two Dursley children entered, seven-year-old Bradley and five-year-old Noel.

"I want three sausages today," Bradley ordered.

"You barely eat two," Harry said. One of his responsibilities when he cooked was to make sure no food was wasted.  With ten people in the house, food had to be stretched.  "You can ask for seconds when you're done."  A plate of sausage and eggs was handed over to Bradley, and another bowl of cereal to Noel.  Lily returned with a half-t-shirt on just as he finished serving Noel.  The next to last plate of sausages and eggs went to her.

Aunt Petunia came down last, pale faced, and obvious to Harry as having another bout of morning sickness. His aunt had throught that she was done having children, after going six straight years having babies, but last month she'd tested positive again.  She wasn't the only pregnant woman on the street, Pier's mother was also pregnant with her eighth as well.  There were a lot of children on Privet Drive it seemed every house was busting at the seams with them.  Harry handed his aunt her grapefruit, and Violet handed her the tall glass of cranberry juice that no one else in the family drank, and she only did when she was pregnant.

Aunt Petunia added just a bit of ginger to her cranberry juice and took her seat at the table.  Harry filled his own plate and took a seat at the counter, opposite Violet.  Since it was Dudley's birthday, he expected some announcement about activities.  The usually useless presents from Aunt Marge were waiting for Dudley to open too.  Harry wondered what idea Aunt Marge would have for Dudley this year.  Last month had been Lily's, and for some reason Aunt Marge had thought that Lily would be interested in needlepoint.  Lily was a tomboy, and so was Violet.  The needlepoint kit had ended up in Iris's hands, who had really taken too it.

"Children," Aunt Petunia announced.  "I have talked with Mrs Polkiss, and for Dudley's birthday, we'll be going to the London Zoo, along with her children.  Mrs. Fig will be accompanying us.  We'll be going by rail and bus, so pairing rules will be as follows: Dudley with Noel, Harry with Bradley, Lily with Primrose, Violet with Iris.  And no, Violet you can't switch with Harry.  Attire will be jeans and full t-shirts, as well as sneakers.  We'll be taking the train to Waterloo, then on the Underground to Camden Town.  The bus will be the 274.  We should arrive just before noon, assuming everyone is ready in an hour."

Harry knew that everyone would be ready.  Aunt Petunia ran a very tight household when it came to scheduling.   You had to when there was exactly one full bath in the house, though a pair of showers had been made in the back of the garage.  There was no enclosure around them yet, though, so there was always a risk that someone would open the garage door when you were showering.  It had happened to Lily once after a mud pie fight.  That had caused one of the more memorable cases of accidental magic on her part, even better than when he turned his teacher's hair blue.   Every single person in visual range had ended up wearing a blindfold, including Mister Wilson, who ended up crashing his scooter into the bush.

Harry turned to his pair, who to be perfectly honest wasn't all that bad of a younger to watch.  That being said, a warning was warranted.  "Whatever you do, don't let me see you going anywhere that you can fall into the exhibits."

Harry Potter returned to Number Four Privet Drive with his hand firmly on Bradley Dursley's shoulder.  The seven-year-old's clothes were covered in dirt from his many falls at the zoo.  It had seemed like the boy was doomed to fall through just about everything.  Plate glass had broken, cast iron railings had split, and in one case he'd actually managed to fall through a set of wooden steps going above an exhibit.  It was only Harry's rather fortunate skill with snakes that had prevented Bradley from being squeezed to death by a python.

"Dirty clothes off now, Bradley," Petunia ordered.  "Harry, see to it that he takes a good bath, and then I want him in the corner until Vernon comes home."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said.  "You heard your mother, Badly." Harry caught his aunt's smirk at the nickname.  She'd never use it, but Harry knew that his aunt like to create nicknames for her children.  Dudley had at least a half dozen, and Lily had twice that.   

As he marched his cousin into the back of the garage, he could hear Lily passing him into through the door to the house.  "I'm going to get a book, and I'm borrowing your room for the next hour, Harry.  I don't want anyone to bother me."

"You've got it," Harry shot back over his shoulder.  He often let Lily borrow his room for a bit of privacy.  He knew that every once in a while her younger sisters really got to Lily, just like his younger boy cousins got to him.  Sometimes he let Dudley use his cupboard too, but most of the time he and Dudley just ended up talking to each other in the tree in the back garden or some other place.  The younger Dursleys knew better than to approach when Dudley and Harry where whispering to each other.  "Bradley, wait for the garage door to close all the way before you drop your drawers."

"Iris, Rosie, don't bother Lilium, you are both on the edge.  You were warned about her time," Petunia said.  "Find something quiet to do.  Violet, you may get a small bar of Dairy Milk for yourself and give another to Lilium.  You've both earned it.  My younger ones on the other hand, Noel, you may not watch the telly this evening. Dudley, if you don't mind, get some trousers for Bradie."

The garage door now being entirely down, Harry watched as his cousin stripped of his clothes.  It seemed that Bradley had really muddied himself up. He was even muddy under his briefs. "Looks like we're going to have to put these to soak, Brad.  How do you manage to get so dirty?" He had noticed that Bradley had started to like people to call him by the shortened rather than full name.  He was fairly certain that neither parent had caught onto it, yet.

"It's a gift," Bradley said, turning on the shower and ducking his dirty blond hair into the stream.

"Soap," Harry reminded as Bradley picked up one of the beige wash clothes and began to scrub.

Bradley picked up the soap and smelled it.  "She got the spring scented stuff again!" he groused, before lathering up his cloth and began to scrub.

Harry watched carefully.  Bradley had a reputation for not quite washing everything, and this was a regular task for him and Dudley.  Making sure the younger children washed up, whither it was hands for meals or whole bodies before bedtime, had been a regular chore for them both since they were at least seven.  At least Lily now handled the girls.

On July Thirty-First, it was Harry Potter's turn for a birthday morning. There was no pounding down the stairs by Dudley that day.  Instead there was ultimately unsuccessful attempt at sneaking down the stairs by all of Harry's cousins.  Harry let them get away with it.  Not to say he didn't intend to make sure they knew they failed.  

"Good Morning Dursleys," Harry said as he exited, right behind Noel.

"We failed again, this year, didn't we?" Lily said, noticing Harry's big grin.

"Dudley came down at five thirty-eight, impressively early for you in the summer, Big-D, but I heard the alarm go off at five thirty and the toilet flush at five thirty-five," Harry began.  "Lily, you got up without an alarm, at least that I could hear, but your were given up by you co-conspirators who at five forty-one addressed by your name, complaining about getting up early in the summer.  That's what got you Iris.  Violet, I believe you were the third one done in that group, but you went back up to get Bradley, you hit the creak in the fifth step rather badly.  Then back down you knocked him into the railing  Now, Primrose, you almost succeed.  I didn't hear you go down to the last step, when you jumped over it.  Noel, were you even trying?  Whistling 'Rule Britannia' as you came down."

"Harry, I hate to say it, but Noel got you," Dudley said.  "He was down here when I got down here."

"Used the toilet sound to cover my descent," Noel said, the five-year-old smirking.  "Then sat outside your cupboard until Primrose passed me."

"Okay, it looks like we have a winning birthday sneak," Harry said, moving to take his seat at the head of the table. "Finally.  Three straight years of failures are over.  Sausages ready, Dudley?"

"Just about," Dudley said as an owl suddenly flew through the window, landing right in front of Harry.

"Hello, what's this," Harry said, noticing that there was a letter attached to the barn owl's left leg. He removed it as the owl raised the leg to make it easier.  "It's addressed to me."

"Bet that's the letter from Hogwarts that Mum said was coming for you," Lily said.

"No bet," Harry said, looking up to spot his aunt entering, not having the paleness of her morning sickness for the first time in weeks.  "No one else would address a letter directly to my cupboard under the stairs.  Good Morning Aunt Petunia."

"I see you got you letter, come on, Harry, open it and read it," Petunia said.  "It's been a long time since I got to hear your mother's letter, though I suspect I'll be getting quite an echo of it in a couple years when Lily gets hers."

Harry carefully broke the wax seal and took out the two sheets of paper.  Unfolding it, he placed it on the table and adjusted his glasses before beginning to read.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, OMFC, GS, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Wizards.

"Dear Mr. Potter

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

"Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. 

"Yours sincerely, 

"Minerva McGonagall 

"Deputy Headmistress"

Harry put down the letter, and looked at the second sheet.  "I think this is a supply list," Harry said, passing it to his aunt.

"Write your acceptance and give it the owl," Petunia said.  "We'll be going to Diagon Alley for your birthday to get your supplies."

"How are we going to get there?" Harry asked.

"I think we'll take the train, then the tube," Petunia said.  "We might come back via the Knight Bus, if it's still cheaper. I always enjoyed riding that.

Harry figured that the Dursley's presented a particular image as they flooded into the Leaking Caldron.  Uncle Vernon couldn't come, as he had to work.  He put long hours in as a Director at Grunnings, so that wasn't a surprise, which meant that his Aunt Petunia was leading the mass of Dursley's.  Aunt Petunia had surprised Harry when she'd come down wearing totally atypical attire.  It looked like Petunia had pulled out something she'd last worn in the seventies, with a garnish peach and pink flower dress instead of her usual solid color outfits.  She wore a pendent that consisted of a triangle with a circle in it, bisected by a line.

All the boys had gone for their typical on a outing attire, jeans and Chelsea jerseys.  The girls had pulled out similar attire, but with t-shirts proclaiming them as girl genius.  None of the boys were willing to object to the description.

Harry got halfway across the room before a freak burst of air pushed his bangs aside.  It was fate.

"Harry Potter!" one of the wizards cried out, and immediately he was surrounded by witches and wizards wanting to introduce themselves.  One of the wizards managed to knock over Primrose, causing the little girl to burst into tears.  Somehow Dudley managed to get to his littlest sister's side, but no one could get back to Harry's save Lily, who had somehow managed to remain directly behind him.

"Back off from Harry!" Lily yelled, but it wasn't enough.  In fact the press of bodies got even harder around them.

"Back off, let the boy breathe," came a gravelly voice, as a tall giant of man pushed his way though. Harry smiled as the man managed to push aside just enough people to make some space around Harry.  "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts," he introduced himself.  "You've grown up a bit since I brought you to the Dursleys."

"Thanks Hagrid," Harry said.  "This is my cousin, Lily.  Aunt Petunia and the rest of her brothers and sisters are around here somewhere."  Even with the space around him cleared a bit, he couldn't see his other cousins.

"They just got pushed a bit away," Hagrid said.  "Let the boy's aunt and cousins through, Crockford, Fletcher.  Me beasts behave better than this.  On your way to Daigon, I assume, Harry?"

"Gringotts and school shopping," Harry replied, as a man with a purple turban approached.  He could also see his cousins and Aunt Petunia through gaps in the crowd.  It looked like his younger cousins were probably going to reach his side first, even if they didn't obey Hagrid.

"Harry, this is Professor Quirell, he'll be your defense against the dark arts teacher at Hogwarts," Hagrid introduced.  Noel was already reaching Hagrid's side, having slipped between a pair of what Harry was sure were hags.

"Not that you need it, eh, Potter," Quirell said, as he stepped closer.  He was nearly knocked over when Bradley came out from behind him.

Harry smiled, remembering his aunt's lessons in politeness, he held out his hand.  Just as he did so, Lily's other sisters came up beside her.  Somehow all of his cousins save Dudley had managed to form a circle around Professor Quirell.  "Harry Potter.  I look forward to coming to Hogwarts and your class."

And just as his hand was about to reach Quirell's, the professor jerked back as if he was burnt by something.  The description became quite apt, as Harry noticed a tendril of smoke raising from the man's hand.  In fact Harry could suddenly smell the putrid scent of burning flesh. 

"Master, save me," the Professor suddenly cried out, before he suddenly was surrounded by tendrils of smoke, coming from every opening in the man's robes.  Then suddenly the man was ash, and collapsed to the floor, leaving behind a black smoke like wraith.

"Curse you Potter!" the wraith cried out.  "I shall have my revenge!"

And with that the wraith departed, obviously intending to go through Harry, but something prevented the wraith from going that way, and it curved upwards, before shooting through the ceiling as if the very presence of Harry Potter and his cousins propelled it break the sound barrier.

Hagrid looked down at the ash remains of Professor Quirell.  "It looks we're going to need another Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.  Didn't even make a year.  Damned shame, that."

Chapter Text

Somehow Petunia Dursley had separated her family from the crowd that had gathered around them, and after a brief chat with the auror who had taken charge of the scene around the ashes of the late Defense Professor, managed to get a bit of a lead on them, heading down Diagon Alley. It was enough of a lead and they were moving fast enough that they all reached Gringotts before many could take action spotting on the passing Boy-Who-Lived. Full pairings were in force, but as they reached the bank, Dudley and Noel split, allowing Harry and Bradley to take position right behind Petunia.

This wasn't the first time that Petunia or any of her children had visited Diagon Alley, so the gapping at the wizarding world was kept to a minimum. Usually though she only had two or three of her children, nearly always including Harry, accompanying her. It was, after all, where the conservatorship for her nephew met. Until today she'd managed to keep her visits on the sly.  Apparently no one had really expected him in Diagon Alley until today, his birthday.  They'd waited for his arrival, and ambushed the group.  It was most unfortunate that neither Remus nor  Alberforth were available to join them for the meeting with Ite'wold.  One adult was not enough to handle all those who had wanted to meet her nephew, even before the fact that Petunia had brought all of her children along.

Upon entering Gringotts, Petunia noticed that all her children were looking around the ornate bank lobby.  It seemed that Primrose was a bit scared, based on how she had moved closer to Lily.  The others seemed to be taking the goblins in stride, as Petunia stepped up to a free teller.  She looked at the inscription on the front of the counter and said, "Teller Grafphar, I am Petunia Dursley, guardian of Harry James Potter.  We have come to see to his finances through this bank.  Everything shall be in order for this review, else the amount withdrawn today shall be a great deal larger than what is required for his school supplies."  Petunia smiled with a big open smile, showing he teeth.

"Madam Dursley, Account Master Ite'wold awaits you in Conference Room Nineteen," Grafphar replied.  "Hahmer, show the Dursleys and Mister Potter the way."

"Primrose, show Grafphar and Hahmer your fierce smile," Petunia said, addressing her youngest, before they could move to follow Hahmer.  

Primrose looked up at her mother made an off-center smile before turning to Grafphar and making her best open smile, showing her teeth.  "Mummy says that goblin pies aren't good, why is that?" she said innocently looking up at Grafphar.

Grafphar dropped from his high seat, and bent down slightly to look the four-and-a-half-year-old right in eyes.  Unlike her earlier fearful moves, Primrose kept her eyes matched on Grafphar.  "Because no one can catch a good goblin to make good goblin pies," Grafphar said, with a perfectly matched grin.

"Oh.  I guess they should just eat cake," Primrose said, still looking at Grafphar with the same open smile.

"Oh yes, let them eat cake," Grafphar replied, stepping back and looking up at Petunia  "Petunia Dursley, even your youngest is ever bit as impudent as you were when I met you as a young runner.  May your enemies flee your smile without even the shirt on their backs."

"I see you remember, Grafphar," Petunia replied.  "I shall look forward to the day when you rise to account manager, though I do hope Ite'wold doesn't go soon.  He has served gloriously."

It wasn't long before Petunia and her family arrived at Conference Room Nineteen.  As usual, Ite'wold was waiting by keeping himself fit by doing forms with his favored goblin picks, which Petunia knew was an ancient goblin martial art, designed for both mining and battle.  As soon as he finished his current position, the picks were tossed to land perfectly in the mounts behind the goblin desk, and he did a double flip, landing in his chair, and somehow putting his suit jacket on at the same time.

"Petunia Dursley, it is good to see the battle against the drudgery and dullness has not taken you yet," Ite'wold said.  "I see you brought your whole family this time, save Mister Dursley.  I do hope the battle has not felled him."

"Vernon has just been promoted to Director, and is putting in long hours to clean up from his predecessor.  Fortunately he has yet to require bloodstains to be cleaned from the office," Petunia said.  "You were right that Robertson was inflating figures, and Mr. Grunnings was most appreciative of the discovery.  Today, however, it is my turn to introduce my sister's son to the Wizarding World and his finances."

"Very well, Mister Potter, please take the center seat, and Petunia, to his right, Miss Lily to his left. The rest of you may take the bench.  Hahmer, before you return to Grafphar, I believe that Miss Violet and Mister Dudley were looking at volume three of The Sons of Warban the last time they accompanied you?  Mister Bradley, perhaps you can take up the reading of volume one, chapter six to your youngers in place of Miss Lily?  If this is all agreeable to you, Petunia."

"It is, the Sons of Warban is a goblin classic that I wonder why is not available for purchase.  Though I do hear that the last human publisher of it was burned down for the commentary text."

"Indeed.  We were avenged," Ite'wold said as everyone took their places.  "Now, Mister Potter, as you have reached the age of eleven, you are entitled to know more about your family's finances, and so is your sister, by virtue of your age."

"Sister?" Harry asked.  "I'm an only child."

"By birth you are, but by blood, as I've previously told your Aunt Petunia, Lily was conceived as the child of James and Lily Potter, transferred invetro upon Lily's death to Petunia's womb.  As such she has an interest in the Potter fortune, a trust and a dowry.  For now the Potter fortune is entrusted to a conservatorship led by your Aunt along with Remus Lupin and Alberforth Dumbledore.  And I have not managed to get Mister Lupin to accept a reasonable stipend for his assistance in seeing to the upkeep of the Potter Estates."

Harry then looked over at Lily.  Petunia had told Lily just the night before, as she knew that it was going to come out today.  She knew she should have told Harry too, but she'd put off telling Lily too long, and he'd been asleep by the time she'd sent Lily back to the room she shared with Violet.  There hadn't been any time in the morning.  His eyes looked at his sister, locking on her gaze.  "Well, everyone does say you look like our Mum," he concluded.  "You get the cupboard while I'm at Hogwarts, after Noel has his day."

"Privacy at Privet, the only privilege of a Potter," Lily parrotted back a long repeated line. 

Harry smiled back at his sister.  "Now what is the Potter Estates," Harry said, turning back to Ite'wold.

"The Potters are an old family, landed magicals," Ite'wold said.  "The Potter Estate, to which you are the only known heir, consists of over a dozen plots of land, including one in Diagon Alley, currently that brings a good amount of rental income.  There is also the royalties on Sleakeasy Hair Potion, which are the personal income of the head, having been developed by your grandfather, Fleamont.  The Godric's Hollow property that you lived in until your parents death still remains Potter property, as do several other small properties currently leased for terms ending anywhere from seven to twenty-seven years from now.  The Potter Estate has a modest operating balance at the moment, and as for investments, while they could be more aggressive, they are well positioned."

Petunia could tell that Harry was about to ask if he could help the family with the money, which would not have been wise at this point, so she interrupted him as his he started to take a deep breath.  "Harry, as your conservator and guardian, I have made appropriate use of your family funds, well documented and signed off on, to cover your expenses.  I don't want you to think you have ever been a burden, nor that we are living off your fortune.  Where an expense is for you alone, it is taken care of, paid as if James and Lily were taking care of it.  Otherwise, you are a member of my family, and the Dursleys do not treat family differently."

Harry looked long at Petunia, and she could tell that her long standing work to make sure that her nephew was treated like all of her children had sunk in.  Petunia figured she'd get something when Harry got to see his trust vault, but for now, he would listen, learn, and leave things in her hands.

Lucius Malfoy was very careful with his contacts, for the most part.  It would not do for him to get caught after all the money he'd spent keeping himself from Azkaban for being a Death Eater. That didn't mean that he wasn't above more bribery to get his way.  There was very little that couldn't be greased to go his way with a bag of gold or two.  Besides that, he had a very good reason to be coming out of Knockturn Alley.  He owned it, mostly.

As he emerged from Knockturn Alley, he spotted a large family coming out of Gringotts, heading in his direction. It was obviously a mudblood family, given their distinct lack of robes,   The riot of colors of the mother's dress was something that even Dumbledore wouldn't chose to wear, and his eccentric tastes were way out of the norm.  The old warlock could get away with it, but Malfoy always thought that a good wizard should go with solid classic colors. 

"Hold up Bradley!" the mudblood mother shouted as one of her young boys, far ahead of the rest, reached Malfoy.

Malfoy suddenly felt a burning sensation over and in his dark mark, just as the boy who he judged to be about seven or eight with short blond hair brushed passed him.  It cooled a bit, then a four or five-year-old girl with shoulder length stringy blond hair passed on the closer side, and the mark not only burned, but he could see a small flame on his deep Slytherin green robe right above the mark.  

The children started passing quicker.  A boy five or six breezed by the passing of his messy straw seeming to feed the fire.  An eight-year-old girl with longer washed out blond hair caused the flame to suddenly spread down to his wrist, as he grasped his cane in preparation to draw his wand, hoping to put out the fire.  Then a six or seven year old girl, whose hair was halfway between the two other girls in length and color, tripped, knocking the cane out of his hands.  Finally a red head who reminded him of that annoying mudblood whose death had been the last his master had accomplished passed, and his whole right arm was now in flames.

Suddenly Lucius found himself soaked as someone had finally taken the initiative to cast Aguamenti to put out the flames.  But the pain and burning sensation did not stop until the mother passed along side the black haired and glasses wearing dark haired elven-year-old boy who could only be the Boy-Who-Lived.  

Lucius picked up his cane as the gaggle of mudbloods headed into Madam Mulkins.  His robe was ruined, his arm was a burnt mess.  He had to get to a healer now.  With a crack he was gone from Diagon and in the lobby of Saint Mungo's.

Madam Malkin's was a very good deal when it came to clothes.  At least that was what Aunt Petunia had told Harry several times.  This wasn't the first time he'd been to the place, but usually he'd hidden his identity more.  He wasn't going to wear that damned cap anymore, though.  There was a time for hiding, and that was before had gotten his Hogwarts letter.

This was actually his sixth time visiting the tailor, and had been a couple years.  Most of the time it was the girls that got things to wear from the wizarding world, though all of Harry's socks and undershirts were already from the instock shelves towards the middle of the shop floor.  At the moment, though he was back quite a bit further as Hogwarts robes were tailored.  The ties weren't of course, but the ivory shirt of a first year, black trousers, and back robe were.  He'd already selected a rather nice belt made of some sort of iridescent skin.

"Ouch!" Harry cried out as pin poked through the robe to his shoulder.

"Sorry, young man," the seamstress said.  "It looks like I need to let that arm hole just a bit."

"That's okay," Harry replied.  He wasn't the only boy being fit out for Hogwarts.  There were a good half a dozen stations just on the boys side of the store.  At the moment they were all filled.  Across from Harry was a boy named Dean, and to Dean's right was Ernie and left was Justin.  To Harry's right was Neville, and left Blaise.   "I told you Neville, it happens to everyone."  Thus far, by Harry's count, Neville had been stuck a good dozen times.

"Well, I guess so," Neville said. Harry didn't think the boy had a lot of confidence in himself.  He seemed to be rather self-depreciating, actually.  A seamstress was already taking done with him.

"Come on, Neville, we have a meeting at Gringotts in just a few minutes," an older woman with a vulture in her hat said.  "Have the finished robes sent to Foggybottom Manor."

"Yes ma'am," the seamstress said. 

"See you at Hogwarts, Neville," Harry said, cheerfully.  As soon as they were all done, Aunt Petunia was taking everyone for ice cream, and he was looking forward to it.  "Dean, I don't care what you say, Manchester U is not better than Chelsea."

"You finished ten six and three last year," Dean replied. "You were literally middle of the table.  We were eleven four and four, got to the European Winner's Cup second round."

"And what exactly was the score the last two times you came against us ... three two?" Harry said, as the seamstress began taking the robes off Harry.  "You don't have to bring an Arsenal to beat Man U.  Wait, they beat you both times last year too." 

"You were right, football fans are as fanatical as Quidditch ones," Blaise said.   

"Just wait until you encounter an Arsenal fan, they're brutal," Seamus said.  "I'm pretty sure they were the cause of that brawl at Old Tafford.  They lost more points for it, at least."

"There you go, Mister Potter," the seamstress said.  "They should be ready for you in about an hour or so, or we can owl them to you, if you would prefer."

"I think Aunt Petunia wanted to pick them up, but I'll make sure before we leave the shop," Harry promised.  "See you at Hogwarts, guys," he said as he jumped off the stool and waved.

He found Bradley standing by the gap in the partition and immediately could tell that his cousin had been misbehaving.  There was nothing like that stiff, you're staying there until I do something about you posture among the Dursleys.  "What did you do this time, Brad?"

"Knocked over a mannequin while chasing Iris," Bradley admitted.  "I'm not to move until everyone else is done shopping."

"Well, I'll keep you company," Harry promised.  He knew how boring it got when Aunt Petunia made you stay.

"It might take a while," Bradley said.  "Mum's having Iris fitted for a new Sunday best dress."

"Oh great," Harry groaned.  Iris was particular about her dresses.  This could take ages.  
 

This was going to be the last real day that Lily Dursley could go play with her cousin who was really her brother Harry.  Lily was slowly coming to terms with the fact that she really wasn't a Dursley.  It didn't seem like it mattered much, after all she still got the stories of the twenty-two hour labor she put Mum through.  It had explained why she looked more like her namesake Aunt Lily than the rest of her sisters.  Quite frankly, Lily had always stood out with her fiery red hair from all the other Dursleys.  Well, with the exception of that one time when something in the shampoo had turned all the Dursley children's hair red.

It was a bright sunshiny day near the end of August, not quite record high for the day, but as Mister Gallegher often said, still hot enough burn scalps off.  That meant one thing to Lily and the other children of Privet Drive, it was time to go to the duck pond.

The duck pond was mostly forgotten by the adults of Little Whinging.  It was in the area reserved for development as a town park, but funding had been cut before the full plan had been implemented.  A great deal of the plan for Greater Whinging had been cut, especially when the Metropolitan Green Belt had cut through the area.  So it's existence had been slowly receded from most people's memories.

The copse of trees hid the duck pond, from general view.  The best way to get to it was to go along the hedgerow marked the end of Privet Drive, turn right through a small gap just before Mr. Gallegher's rose garden, and then it was just a hop on to leftover small rock wall, a jump over a gap, and you were right at the pond.   It was a fairly broad pond, but not very deep, and on a hot summer day, the ducks unwillingly shared it with a gaggle of children from Privet Drive who jealously guarded the secret of its existence.      

When Lily reached the shore of the pond, she was by no means the first to arrive.  She waved at Carrie Matthews, who at fourteen was obviously serving as the teen in charge today, as she sat on a branch of an oak tree that overlooked the pond.  Despite Carrie's current condition, she was quite trusted to child mind by all the parents on the street. Lily thought that it must be getting hard for the girl to get up there with her growing belly, as she stripped off her clothes and jumped into the pond. 

She came up next to her littlest brother Noel, who judging from the mud in his hair had already been making mud pies on the muddy south bank. "Hey Noel, why the glum face?"

"Timmy had to go home to finish his packing," Noel said as he treaded water next to Lily.  "I don't want him to go.  Especially since Harry's going away too."

"I know," Lily said. Noel and Timothy had been inseparable since both of them had learned to walk.  "I'm going to miss Harry, when he goes to Hogwarts."  She admitted it audibly for the first time.  "But we're hear to enjoy the last days of summer with him.  You'll be able to write them both, and I'm sure that Timothy be coming back to visit his grandparents every once in a while, as they're not moving, just him and his mother while she's at Uni."

"Yeah, maybe," Noel said, as Violet and Bradley, already stripped, jumped into the pond. They were quickly followed by their best friends, Colin Creevey and Porta Polkiss.   The splash of their arrival quickly swamped Noel and Lily.  

Bradley came up beside Noel, and grabbed his little brother.  "No glum faces, Noel," Bradley ordered, as he spun Noel around to face him.  "I'm under orders from Timmy to make sure you don't waste a moment in the pond and come out with wrinkly fingers."

"Good luck with that, boy and tomboys," Lily said, addressing the four who were now surrounding Noel.  "I'm going to go get Harry and Dudley."

"See if they'll throw us around," Violet said, before Lily dived under the water and headed towards where she'd spotted Harry and Dudley swimming.

Lily came up in the middle of her older brothers, genetic and by name, inserting herself between them as they raced across the pond.  Despite the fact that she was almost two years younger than Dudley, she easily kept pace with them until they reached the other side of the pond, a stroke ahead of them.  "So slow boys," Lily said.

"Slow?" Dudley asked, as both of them stood up and waded into the shallow edge of the pond, to the point of where the water came up only to about half way up above their knees.  It was just short of reaching Lily's butt.

"Yes," Lily replied, before giving her usual hug to both, before they could take a seat in the shallows, as they often did after their laps around the pool.  The Dursley Family was very affectionate between each other.  She got a kiss on the cheek from them both after she ended her embrace.  "And I'm sure that you're about to say you weren't racing, just exercising."

"She's got us pegged," Harry replied, sharing a look with Dudley.  Then he looked at Lily, his deep green eyes locking up with hers.  "And what, pray tell, have you come over here to request?"

"Oh, nothing much," Lily downplayed, "I just think that Noel needs a bit of cheering up since Timothy's mother called him home to get ready to leave Privet Drive.  Maybe some strong older brother who loves to lift things might want to play toss the little ornament?"

"He's getting a little big for me to do that, and you know it won't be just him, don't you?" Dudley replied.  Lily looked at him with her head slightly cocked to the left.  "Okay, enough with the look.  I'll do it."  He dived back in and swam back towards Noel.

"Now, come, sit, Lily, and tell big brother exactly why you've been avoiding me since Diagon Alley," Harry said, taking a seat in the shallow water and slapping the water to his right to indicate where he wanted Lily to sit.

Lily sat down next to Harry, and felt his arm going around her back, pulling her up against him.  For a moment she watched as Dudley snuck up behind Noel, picked him up, then tossed him towards the center of the pond.  Dudley was quickly swarmed by every kid around Noel's age, demanding their turn, and there were a lot of them.  Lily mentally counted up the ones starting Nursery with Noel, Michael Stone, Caleb Adams, Albert Palmer, John Polkiss, and Fenton Creevey, could there really be six five-year-olds this year?  Of course Primrose had to attach herself to that group, and get the biggest throw of them all from her big brother.  Dudley said that tossing the ornaments, as he called it, helped his muscles, and he was quite strong for his age.

"Lily," Harry prompted again.

"You know I'm the only red head on the street, not just in the family," Lily said, leaning against her brother.  "It makes me unique, but especially as I got my little sisters, I started to feel a bit out of place.  We had some pictures of Aunt Lily –  I'm not exactly sure what I should call her now –   and we always said that I look just like her, and now I know why.  But now that I know I kind of feel like I'm stealing from you.  I probably hadn't even started showing a sign on Aunt Lily when You-Know-Who killed her."

"No, you're not stealing from me," Harry said.  "I mean Dad had already started the paperwork to set up your dowry and trust accounts.  And even if he hadn't, well, Aunt Petunia may have always insisted that a Potter was just as good as a Dursley, and my last name doesn't mean anything among family, but it really does mean something.  I know I'm not the last Potter, the last bit of James and Lily, in the world.  I'm not alone and that makes all the difference."

"You live on Privet Drive, it's impossible to be alone," Lily said as Iris sent up a big splash in front of them as made a diving catch for the ball that Edwin Creevey had tossed her way in their keep away game with Georgina Polkiss.

"That's certainly true, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like you are, every once-in-a-while," Harry replied.  Somehow the splash had not hit his glasses.  It was one of those magical miracles that regularly happened to all the children Harry's age and younger on the street.  He pulled Lily into a sideways hug.  

After a moment's silence, during which Lily enjoyed the close presence of her brother, finding strength in his understanding of her, she noticed that some kids were missing that she would have expected to be at the pond were missing.  "Where is Piers?"

"Apparently he's been assigned the task of making sure that Dennis, Godwin, and Crispen properly clean the results of their slime fight, including washing Mr. Gallegher's DB4," Harry replied.  "Piers thinks they've ruined his whole afternoon.  It's the bane of being the oldest in the family.  You're expected to put taking care of your youngers first, sometimes.  I, at least, share the role with Dudley.  You're going to have a lot more issues that we did, especially as Aunt Petunia gets closer to her due date.  She really leans on the olders the last month or so."

Bradley suddenly emerged from the bottom of the pond with a handful of mud which he preceded to dump on his older sister Violet's hair.   Lily could hear Violet giggle, before she dived down as well.  It was obvious that the two had just started another mud fight, a regular event that usually resulted in the need for a big clean up.  Fortunately the two had access to the tree house that Colin had convinced Mr. Gallegher to build.  Lily wasn't exactly sure how Colin, Bradley, Porta, and Violet had arranged it, but it was their private get away, allowing them to clean up with Mr. Gallegher's back garden hose pipe instead of streaking down the street covered in mud to their respective homes. 

The four loved to have mud fights.  At least they were no longer involving the whole street.  Lily vividly remembered her run home, and then the embarrassment of the garage door opening as she showered off in the open shower at the back of the garage.  There was a difference between being exposed swimming, and one's Dad opening the door to outside letting everyone see and hear you singing in the shower.

"Wait, I'm going to have to make sure Badly gets clean, oh God," Lily realized.  

"Yes, and he's going to be the oldest boy, which is absolutely no help for you," Harry replied, as Lily recalled the one time so far she'd been tasked to make sure Bradley had washed.  He'd been dirty behind his ears and had forgotten to wash between his toes.  "I think you can probably train Violet to help you, maybe taking care of Noel and Primrose.  Bradley is going to be a pain."

"Is it possible for you to be a day student at Hogwarts?" Lily asked, her mind replaying all the trouble that Bradley had gotten into, mostly due to issues with cleanliness and roughhousing.

"It's in Scotland, Lily," Harry reminded her.  "It's going to be hours just getting there on the Hogwarts Express.  I hardly think that they'd provide a quicker way to go back and forth to children."  

"Will you at least write?" Lily asked morosely.  "I doubt Dudley will."

"At least twice a week," Harry said.  "And if Dudley doesn't, you have my permission to flood Royal Mail with requests.  I'll send Hedwig too.  At the very least she'll steal his bacon.  Now let's get back to swimming.  I bet I can reach Carrie' tree before you can."

"You're on Harry."

Chapter Text

Augustus Rookwood woke to the sound of a series of regular beeps.  He could tell he was restrained to a bed, and his skin felt like it was stretched across his body.  His right arm was burning with pain.  With great effort he opened his eyes.  It didn't help the Unspeakable Death Eater determine his location.  The white room was virtually featureless, and smelled some sort of sharp clean scent that he was also unfamiliar with.

Suddenly a young woman wearing a light blue dress and a strange white hat came into his limited field of vision, her mouth covered with a mask.  "I see you're finally awake, sir," the woman said.  "I shall let the doctor know."

Rookwood's eyes widened with horror.  He knew where it was now.  He was in a muggle hospital.  His eyes darted around, and tried to find something to determine how long he'd been there.  Nothing, Nothing, Nothing.  He'd been under the care of the butchering muggle doctors.  Who knew what they had already done to him.  They could have cut things off, screwed him, or even put him in stitches.

He tried to remember how he'd ended up in this place.  Rookwood cast his mind back.  He'd been following that muggle family with the Boy-Who-Lived, intending on putting an end to the half-blood who had murdered the Dark Lord and all of his family.  He had plans of turning the obviously muggle family house into a ruin filled with blood and guts.  Of course that required planning and luck.  Rookwood believed he had luck.

He'd followed the family out of Diagon Alley, using the burn they were causing his Dark Mark when he lost the sight line.  It was fortunate that he, as an Unspeakable, had a full muggle kit, including a valid Travelcard. Otherwise he would have lost them going through the barriers into the Underground.

He'd barely managed catch the train they boarded at Waterloo, which was apparently a stopper to Whinging Central.  It was a Thumper.  Wizards, if they ended up riding British Rail, generally ended up riding mostly rural services.  Rookwood was very familiar with Thumpers and Pacers as well, the rough rail bus of many a service.  They were often crowded, the unconditioned coaches filled with the smell of sweaty workers on their way home from work. They were noisy and uncomfortable, even more so if the windows were open.

He tried to be as far away from the Dursleys as possible, but they'd sat right in the middle of the train.  Even at the back of the other car, he couldn't stop the burn, and only a conjured ice cube under his sleeve prevented his mark from catching fire.  He went through three cubes before the Thumper left Greater London.  

Then the Thumper entered the Green Belt, stopping next to a small quaint station, Little Titter.  He briefly panicked when just as the Thumper pulled away from the station, the burn started to get less.  He frantically looked back at the station, but the platform only had a couple of nuns on it.  But the burn didn't get better, so he concluded that the family must have moved farther forward.

The next station, Stryct though, the burn got worse, and he looked out to see the family stepping onto the platform.  He quickly got up and muscled his way off the train, grimacing as the burn got stronger.  The platform reminded him a bit of Hogsmeade in it's arrangement.  They were on platform one, so of course the family of muggles had to cross over using the bridge.  He watched, letting them build a lead, as the oldest boy picked up his littlest sister and carried her up the stairs.  

Rookwood waited until they were half way across before he started up the bridge, his hand holding his pained arm, right over his Dark Mark.  It almost felt like it was broken, rather than burning now.  Out of the station he followed them.  Down the walk, past a school of some sort, the woman herded her children.  Rookwood wasn't used to walking so much, and the pain went higher.

His arm was aching, burning.  His legs were sore and seemed to be transfiguring themselves into lead.  Rookwood didn't know how much further he could walk, but he took greater strides with new energy when the children picked up speed, an obvious sign that they were almost home.  Ahead of him, he could see the red headed girl turn onto a side road.   Above her head he could see the sign proclaiming it to be Privet Drive.

It had been a sunny day with barely cloud in the sky when Augustus Rookwood had gotten off the train.  Suddenly it wasn't sunny anymore.  Out of nowhere clouds seemed to concentrate over Privet Drive.  It might have been a summer afternoon, but he'd never seen clouds gather quite that quickly.  A thunder clap seemed to be right next to his ear, causing him to stumble forward.  That's when he got too close to the Dursleys.

First his robes caught fire at his wrist, then it worked up his arm, much like he'd seen happen to Malfoy.  A charm he'd precast took effect, as his robes became soaked with ice water, in what he believed was an ingenious reversal of a charm usually used to warm up someone who had fallen into the ice.  It almost was enough.  It certainly got him closer to Privet Drive.

That was when the bolt of lightning hit him and his robes flashed into burning embers.  A second bolt followed the first, and Rookwood knew no more until he'd woken up in the white room.   Before the woman could leave, he somehow managed to croak, "What day is it?"

"It's September the First."

It was September First, and Petunia Dursley was glad that it was also a Sunday, so at least all of the family would be there to see her two eldest off to their respective schools.  In the case of Dudley, Vernon would be joining him on the three oh two train from Kings Cross to Cambridge which was the stopper, allowing them to get off just a half mile from Smeltings.  The rest of the family would return home to Little Whinging while Vernon wouldn't return until the next day.  It was quite fortunate that his boss had actually insisted that Vernon take the day off so Dudley could settle in.  Vernon had attributed it to the fact that his boss was a fellow Smeltings alum.

So they somehow managed to get to King's Cross, just in time to be nearly run over by two red headed boys on there way through the wall to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.  It was enough to cause just enough of a domino effect that Lily lost her balance and fell into the girl trailing the mother in much the same way that Iris was trailing Petunia.

"Sorry," Lily said to the fellow red headed girl.  Petunia couldn't hear the girl's soft response, but it seemed to be accepted, before the girl sped up and followed her mother who was just behind another boy with a cart, probably one of her sons.

Petunia turned to Harry.  "Just head for the wall like those boys did, best to do it with a bit of speed.  You'll go right through, and we'll be right behind you."  Harry nodded, picked up a bit of speed, and soon vanished into the wall.  Petunia, Vernon, and the rest of their children quickly followed. 

As soon as Petunia cleared the brick wall, she looked up to see Platform Nine and Three Quarters.  It was something she'd enjoyed since that first time when they'd taken her sister Lily for the first time.  There was the scent of coal smoke in the air as Petunia took a deep breath, surveying the platform.  They were pretty close to departure time, so the platform was full of children moving this way and that, manhandling carts and evading embarrassing parents.  Petunia had sworn that she'd never be one of those mother, but now...

"I'm going to miss you," Petunia said, as she suddenly lurched over to hug her nephew.  She enveloped him in a hug, and could tell his return of that hug was reluctant.  Being hugged in public by your aunt was not a sign of being a big boy.  Thus both Harry and Dudley had been avoiding them as much as they could.  Petunia didn't intend to let him get away today.

Still she let him pull away quicker than she wanted him to.  Harry did not, however, stop his sister from giving him a hug. Nor did he stop the progression of his little girl cousins giving a quick hug.  He did stop Bradley from jumping up into his arms.

It wasn't long before Harry got onto the train, and all too soon Petunia found herself watching the steam engine and it's classic mark one carriages pull away from the station.  Tears, unexpected, and ones that she'd promised herself she wouldn't have found traces down her cheeks.  She didn't dry them.  To do so would be denying the effect that her nephew had on her, and that was something she had long ago sworn not to do.  He may have not been the fruit of her loins but in every way that counted, Harry Potter was Petunia's son.

Lily Dursley stepped a bit away from the rest of her family as they took their turns hugging Harry.  "I think you're going to miss Harry more than you miss me," Dudley suddenly said from right next to her.

"No, but I think Harry's more likely to write," Lily said.  "Of course, if you don't write, I'll arrange for Bradley and Noel to come visit you.  I think I can convince them that you're dumping them as roommates.  You know how much they love being in the room with big brother."

"Anything but that," Dudley said. "I don't know how you girls got the pairs, and us boys ended up with three in one room and the other under the stairs."

"Because I told Harry that the cupboard under the stairs would get him his own room," Lily said.  "I knew they wouldn't let me have a room alone, and Primrose was still in the crib, so the bunk beds weren't really an option.  We could have ended up with you, Harry, and Bradley, then me Violet, and Iris, with Noel and Primrose sharing a room.  It was the initial plan."

"Disaster waiting to happen, there," Dudley said as suddenly bumped from behind by a blond boy who couldn't be more different than Harry.  The thin aristocratic boy fell straight back on the platform, having hit the immovable object that was Dudley Dursley.  His trunk fell out of his grasp, ending up teetering on the edge of the platform in the gap between carriages.  

Before Dudley could do any more than bend down to offer a hand up, the boy scampered back bit.  "Stay away from me, muggle.  You shouldn't be on the platform."

"I think you might want to rethink that statement," Lily said turning towards the boy had has resumed standing.  His robes were obviously effected by his bounce to the ground and slide backwards. Lily could feel the static of her magic in her hair, and knew it was just short of turning into a nimbus of red, as it often did when she was emotion enough to do accidental magic.  She brought her hand up, and snapped her fingers.  The snap was accompanied by a flash and was nearly loud as thunder.

The boy quickly collected his trunk and got on the train.  As soon as the boy was out of hearing range, Dudley turned to Lily and said.  "I'm not worried about you as the oldest sibling.  Not after that."

Lily smiled as the final whistle blew, just as a young red head the age of her oldest brother scrambled onto the train.  "Come on, Dusleys, line up and give honor to Harry!" she cried out.

"Harry?  You mean Harry Potter?" a girl maybe half a year older than Lily said, coming up next to her.  Lily was pretty sure she'd seen the girl sometime before. "Can I join you?"

"The more the merrier?"

"Ginny Weasley."

The Dursley's lined up by age, with Ginny in between Lily and Dudley, swiftly and as the train began to pull out, each of them snapped to a salute as Harry passed by them.  Once the train receded in the distance, however, Lily turned to the girl who'd joined them at the last minute.

"Ginny Weasley ... any relation to Ron?" she asked.

"The youngest of my older brothers," Ginny said.  "I don't get to go until next year, so I'm going to have to spend a year alone with mum.  I hate being the youngest and only girl, sometimes."

"I've got two years before I go," Lily said.  "I think Harry's going to forget totally about me by then, even if I'm actually his little sister."

"Big brothers never remember to write," Ginny groused.  "I've got six of them, and I'm lucky to get a single letter from each of them while they're away.  Only reason I seem to get letters is when they get hurt.  That's how I got letters from both Bill and Charlie last year.  I didn't know Harry Potter had a little sister."

"Their was a charm set up that transferred me to Mum's womb when she accepted Harry," Lily admitted.  "I didn't find out until six weeks ago.  Not that it matters at home.  We're all one big family.  Eight of us between the ages of four and eleven, and Mum's pregnant again."

"Wow, I didn't think I'd ever meet any family with more children than my family's," Ginny said. "I don't think we'd be as a big of family if it wasn't for the fact that Mum wanted a girl."

"There are a lot of big families in my neighborhood," Lily said, as she noticed that her mother was chatting with a redheaded woman who could only be Ginny's mum.  "When I'm old enough, if I'm not at Hogwarts, I'll probably be dragooned into child minding for other families.  I'm going to be the oldest at home now, so I'll probably have much more experience than I want.  You wouldn't believe what gross things Bradley ends up bringing in the house.  Last week he brought in a muddy toad and told Primrose that if she kissed it, it would turn into a Prince."

"Ewweee ... ever have to get their laundry from their rooms?" Ginny asked.  "I've got that chore, and they're always so messy and stinky."

"That's a given, with boys," Lily replied.  "A few months ago I had to make Noel's bed, and the smell, it almost made me pass out.  I took the whole bedding out, opened the window, sprayed deodorant and still it was barely standable." 

"Only thing good about my big brothers being away from school is that the bathroom won't be filled with stink pellets until Christmas," Ginny said. "I don't care if they claim that don't use them in the bathroom, it still smells like they did."

"They have no concept of clean," Lily said.  "And now the worst of my brothers with that is going to be the eldest boy at home.  There is no way the boys room isn't going to be a disaster by the end of the month, if not end of week."

"First thing I'm going to be told to do is probably clean up Ron's room," Ginny said.  "I bet I find at least three chocolate frogs."

"I think those are worse than real frogs," Lily said, as her mum approached.  "Real frogs don't leave prints on the ceiling. Hi mum."

"Lily, this is Molly Weasley, Ginny's mum." Petunia said.  "I see you've met her daughter.  I've invited her and her daughter to join us at McDonald's."

"Okay, come on Ginny, I'll show you the way."

Harry Potter entered the first compartment on the third carriage.  He'd gotten on board early enough that there was still a few compartments that only had one or two students in them.  This one was occupied by one girl who had a copy of Hogwarts, a History out, and seemed to have be trying to bring her emotions under control.  "I have confidence in me," the girl whispered, the hint of the tune in the soft almost too soft to have a true tone.

"I have confidence in sunshine, I have confidence in rain," Harry responded in song, causing the bushy haired girl to look up from her gaze at the platform.  

"I have confidence that spring will come again," Seamus Finnigan sang.

"Besides, which you see, I have confidence in me," the three chorused.

"As we apparently share the same musical tastes, it is okay we if join you," Harry said.  "Aunt Petunia says that I should have a compartment with someone I don't know." He smiled big. Hermione gestured her acceptance.  "Apparently friends that meet up on the Hogwarts Express can be very good friends indeed.  Mum met Alice Coombs, who apparently was among her best friends, and one of the ones in her will to take care of me.  I wonder what happened to her."

Harry had been unaware that Neville Longbottom had been behind him, reaching the compartment door just as he'd mentioned the name.  "She was my mum," Neville said softly.  "Then come on in, that is if you don't mind, my lady, you were here first.  I don't think we actually exchanged names."

"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said, tentatively.  It was obvious that she was still in the process of feeding her courage, as each word was more firm.  "And you are?"

"Harry Potter, don't believe what you read," Harry said.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.  "You're in ..."

"I know exactly what I'm in, but those authors never met me, never even went to Godric's Hallow as far as we can tell, and most certainly never interviewed anyone who was actually there," Harry said.  "And as far as the ever to be damned Boy-Who-Lived and insert strange object, place, or event here, books, they came this close to being shut down by Aunt Petunia and the goblins ... not that I knew anything about that until the beginning of last month.  Anyway, I should probably introduce these gentlemen that I met in Diagon Alley.  Beside me is Seamus Finnigan, who hails from Armagh in Northern Ireland, I believe, and at the door is Neville Longbottom, whose parents worked with my father as aurors, I understand." 

At Hermione's questioning glance, Harry decided to expand on it, "The Auror Office is apparently the magical equivalent of Scotland Yard," Harry said.  "At least that's what  Ite'wold said.  My father was apparently one of the ones that the Goblins really respected, same with both Frank and Alice Longbottom.  Ite'wold showed me the plaque that Gringotts puts honored aurors on.  He told me that their tale wasn't his to tell though."

"Come on in Longbottom," Hermione Granger said, patting the seat beside her.  "The more the merrier."

"Longbottom, Potter, boy am I glad I found you," Blaise Zabini said from the doorway.  "I thought I was going to have to sit with Malfoy and his ilk.  He thinks he's going to rule the school, because his father's is a Governor."  He sat down hard between Harry and Seamus.  

"And you are?" Granger asked.

"Blaise Zabini, I met these three in Diagon Alley, I hope you don't mind all the boys, but I think Dunbar is on the way.  Potter, I assume those blonds with the red head were your cousins?"

"Yes."

"I may have to write an apology to the eldest. I kind of made Malfoy run into him.  It didn't go well ... for Malfoy.  Fell straight on his pants."

"Dudley Dursley, immovable object," Harry said, as a dark haired girl with a sun burn appeared in the doorway.  She was flexing her right arm.  "Granger, meet Fay Dunbar, of Bristol Dunbars, not be confused with the Delhi Dunbars, nor the Derby Dunbars, and most certainly not the Rutland Dunbars if you value your life."

"And don't you forget it," Fay Dunbar said before ruining it by breaking into giggles.  "I have no idea who half of those Dunbars are."  She took a seat next to Hermione.  "I was worried that I'd end up with a bunch of boys."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"These boys managed to totally ruin, well not Potter, every attempt I made to meet other girls in my year," Fay said.  "They somehow even managed to make me end up in boys' robes."

Harry noticed that Fay's robe fastened on the same side as his did, not the side that Hermione's did.  It reminded him of the one time he'd managed to give Iris's shirts to Bradley and the reverse. He could tell that Hermione was about to ask how.

"Don't ask," Fay said.  "Just know that you're not stuck with some seriously maligned males ... oh wait, they're all in this compartment.  Hello Thomas."

A black boy with pencil tucked behind his ear, stepped into the compartment.  

"Granger, this is Dean Thomas, muggle born like you, and the fastest sketch artist I've seen," Fay said. "Thomas, tell me you're not one of those bloody Arsenal fans that Potter warned me about?"

"No, Manchester United," Thomas replied.

"Good choice in teams," Granger replied, much to Harry's dismay, though at least she wasn't an Arsenal fan.  "I think we still have room for a couple more." Dean plopped down near the door.  There was room for maybe one more opposite him, though Harry would have swore that there was less room earlier.

Just as they were starting to pull out of the station, a red headed boy, who reminded Harry a bit of the twin menaces who had nearly crashed their cart into the rest of his family on their way through King's Cross.  "Can I join you?  Everywhere else they say is full."

"Well, it will be once you join us," Hermione said, surprising Harry as she began to introduce everyone as Ron's trunk was hefted upwards to the amazing expanding rack.   "I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?"

"Ron, Ron Weasley," the boy said with growing confidence.

"Beside me is Seamus Finnigan, our Irish member, Neville Longbottom whose parents were in law enforcement, and Blaise Zabini who has a well justified objection to Malfoys.  On the other side is Fay Dunbar of the Bristol Dunbars who are not to be confused ever with the Rutland Dunbars, Dean Thomas who serves as the compartment's resident sketch artist.  He's already started sketching us, and I want a copy Dean.  And last but no means least, Harry Potter."

"Really?" Ron asked, taking a seat.  "Do you have, you know, the scar?"

Harry raised his bangs to show the scar.  He thought it was actually a bit cool, so he didn't mind showing it, save when it made him too identifiable in Diagon Alley.

"Cool."

"A bit," Harry admitted.  "And before anyone asks again, I have no idea what happened that night, and I don't think anyone does.  I wasn't even two, and I'm the sole survivor.  Now who wants to play Exploding Snap?  I've got an unopened deck."

Chapter Text

Harry stood with the seven who had shared a compartment with him, awaiting his turn to be sorted.  He'd seen the first to be sorted, with Anthony Goldstein having put on the hat.  Once the hat cried out "Ravenclaw" and the boy headed to the table with a blue runner on it, the first of Harry's new friends was called up to be sorted.

He was pretty sure that Blaise Zabini was going to end up in Slytherin, and the sorting hat did not disappoint him.  Two more Slytherins followed, before Dean Thomas broke the trend and was sorted into Gryffindor.  It looked like his friends were going to be in rival houses.  Harry thought he could handle that, as long as he didn't end up in either house.  

Draco Malfoy was up next, and if what Harry had overheard was expected of the boy, it should be a five second sort into Slytherin.  It wasn't.  Harry watched as the pale pureblood's face reddened.  A minute, two minutes passed, as scowl developed on Malfoy's face.  The suddenly, the hat cried out "Then it is Hufflepuff."  The Malfoy boy looked like was going to reach up and strangle the hat, but Professor McGonagall lifted it out of his reach too quickly. 

Ernie MacMillan became the second Hufflepuff, and then one of the two girls that had shared his compartment, Fay Dunbar, was called up to sit under the hat.  Fay hadn't really cared what house she'd end up in, unlike Ron who expected Gryffindor.  She spent longer than Malfoy under the hat though not with the same expressions. Her lips moved silently every once in a while, and it seemed like she was in deep thought.  "Hufflepuff" was the cry from the hat, in three minutes.

Goyle went to Slytherin, and Abbott to Gryffindor, before Professor McGonagall cried out "Harry Potter!"  Harry split from Hermione and Neville and sat on the three legged stool.  McGonagall lowered the hat on him.

"Difficult, you are," the hat's voice echoed in Harry's brain.  "You could very easily be sorted in any house, and do well in them.  You have the bravery of Gryffindor, and your striving to be the best goes well in Slytherin.  Perfect report card last term, that would indicate Ravenclaw.  Never should I forget Hufflepuff, where your sense of fair play and the values that growing up in such a large family would make you fit quite well.

"Oh, I am so looking forward to sorting your sister Lily, and that little scamp of a cousin Brad of yours.  Oh, and all those other magical children on your street.  The next few years are really going to be a joy to work with.  It has been a long time since a new magical community has appeared in Britain.   But where to sort you."

"Put me where I would help the most," Harry thought.

"Oh, that does point to a house, and a house that may be a little more upset than normal this year.  Do no neglect those friends of yours outside your house, but you will be needed and do well in..."

"Hufflepuff!" the Hat said out loud. 

Harry jumped off the stool, and then high fived Hermione Granger as she walked up to be sorted.  He received a similar high five from Fay before he found a seat beside her across from a seemingly upset and down Malfoy. Ernine MacMillan had sat further up in the upper years. Looking back up, Hermione was still under the hat.  From the way her mouth was moving, it was obvious that she was having a long conversation with the Hat.

"I knew she was going to take a long time," Fay said after a minute.  "That girl is so conflicted.  I betting that she's arguing for Gryffindor, and probably getting the most information out of the hat regarding sorting that has ever been given.  Not that anyone tells us how we're sorted, though my older brother broke the secrecy with me.  I bet the Hat really knows a lot.  There should be a book on that, I think I'll write one.  I'm going to have to interview Hermione about this.  Where did the Hat want to put you, Harry?"

"It said I could do well an any house, but I asked to be put where I would help the most, so he put me in Hufflepuff," Harry said.

Then to Harry's surprise, Malfoy spoke up.  "I wanted to be in Slytherin, but it told me that I should be in Gryffindor, but I needed to be in Hufflepuff."  His tone was flat, and there was a bit of roughness to his voice.  "I deserve to be in Sytherin, and I am no Gryffindor."

"No, you're a Hufflepuff," a girl with a Prefect badge said.  "You will come to know why you need to be one, and some day, you even agree with that."

After five minutes, the Hat called out "Ravenclaw" and Harry raised his hand for another high five as Hermione passed and ended up sitting back to back with him at the Ravenclaw table.

"I'm Gabrielle Truman, fifth year female prefect, don't confuse me with my younger brother by eleven months, Gabriel, who somehow managed to get to be the boys prefect with me this year," the girl with long unrestrained brown hair said.  

"Our parents are stupid when it comes to names," Gabriel said, from his seat across from Gabrielle.  "Welcome to Hufflepuff, Justin.   I told you you'd end up in my house, didn't I?"

"Yes," the boy with brown slightly curly hair said, as he took a seat next to Malfoy.  "I guess that means I have to do that run in front of Windsor Castle."

"Gabriel," Gabrielle growled at her brother.  "You're a prefect now, you shouldn't be betting people to go streaking by castles anymore."

"I didn't bet him to do true streaking, Sis," Gabriel said.  "He just has to do it in his underwear with 'Eton is trash' written on the back of his t-shirt, at Christmas."

"As his older sister, Justin, I'm telling you that I will make certain he no longer requires you to do that.  There will be a letter to father, little brother."

"I'm taller than you now, 'elle," Gabriel replied.

During the discussion, Harry had turned his attention away from the sorting, but now he returned it, in time for Jones to go to Gryffindor, Corner to Ravenclaw, and Bulstrode to Slytherin.  Neville was up next.

The hat seemed to almost swallow Neville as McGonagall lowered it onto his head, going all the way down to the tip of his nose.   Neville seemed to tremble for just a moment before sitting up straight.  It took about two minutes, with Neville's body language conveying more determination, with his shoulders squaring up, and his hands suddenly clasping together in front of him, as the Sorting Hat said.  "Right then, Hufflepuff."

Neville went down the other side from Harry, and took the empty seat across from Fay, between Gabriel and Malfoy.  "Welcome to Hufflepuff," both Truman Prefects chorused.

"So, where did the Hat want to put you?" Fay asked.  "Harry here could have been in any house, and apparently it considered putting Malfoy in Gryffindor, almost unbelievably."

"Well, it kind of told me to forget about what my Grandmother said, and think about myself," Neville said.  "I could have gone to Gryffindor, and I think I would have begged for it, but once Harry was sorted here, Hufflepuff didn't seem so bad, so when the Hat got through discussing what made me fit in each house, I chose Hufflepuff.  And the Hat said I was just a tad more Hufflepuff than Gryffindor anyway."

Someone had just been sorted to Ravenclaw, when he returned his attention to the sorting.  He only knew that because the boy was sitting down next to Hermione.  The Patil sisters were split up, not only in houses, but sorting, with Pansy Parkinson going to Slytherin between Padma to Gryffindor and Parvati to Ravenclaw.   Then Roger Malone sat down under the hat.

"Oh, that's the boy who was playing the cello on the Express," Gabriel said.  "Wonderful cellist, I hope he gets sorted into Hufflepuff, as we've got an opening in the Hufflepuff String Quartet."

"My brother plays the viola, the instrument for those not good enough for a violin." Gabrielle said, as she somehow pulled her violin out of her robes, played a couple sassy notes and put it back.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat cried out, and Roger Malone was swiftly added to the table on the other side of Justin.  

Harry didn't really pay attention to Malone.  Professor McGonagall had just called up "Ronald Weasley" to be sorted.  He knew that Ron expected to be in Gryffindor, and expected it to be a matter of course.  Somehow, Harry didn't think it would be, and as he caught Ron's eyes when the hat touched his head, he became certain of that.  Ron's eyes went wide after a minute, and then a half a minute later, his head shook as if he was rejecting something. His eyes closed. The Sorting Hat seemed to press down on Ron's head at that.  Then Ron's eyes opened, and he sat up straight.  Ron nodded slightly, and the Hat finally announced.  "Hufflepuff!

Ron headed right down the aisle between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.  Harry and Fay both turned and raised their right hands so Ron could high five them as he passed.  To Harry's surprise, Hermione mirrored him.  Ron slapped Fay's hand with his left, and then his left hit Hermione's hand right Harry's before he took a seat next Harry.

"So, not with Gryffindor with your brothers," Harry offered.

"At least it's not Slytherin," Ron shrugged.

"Hey, Slytherin is the ba ... a good house," Malfoy suddenly said, for the first time not in the monotone which he'd used since he'd sat down.

Ron shrugged his shoulders.  "My brothers said that all the evil wizards came out of Slytherin.  After talking to the Hat, I might need to think about it more.  It thought I was a little Slytherin."

"Why did it put you in Hufflepuff, then?" Fay asked.

Ron blushed a bit, before replying softly, "the way I talked to my sister before we left for King's Cross."  He did not offer more.

Harry returned his attention to the sorting, where Perks and Finnigan ended up in Gryffindor, and Roper in Slytherin.  Then Sean Cornfoot was called up and a minute later had a surprised expression on his face as the Hat announced "Hufflepuff"

Cornfoot almost stumbled to sit down next to Ron.  "My father was right," he mumbled.  "If only he could be right about his team willing."

Harry noticed that Ron was looking at Cornfoot with a bit of puzzlement, as if he just about to recognize something.  He turned his attention back to the sorting, were Sue Li had just gotten sorted into Slytherin and Susan Bones was now sitting under the Hat.

Unlike many of those that Harry had watched get sorted, Bones sat perfectly still, her hands resting on her knees.  She didn't look nervous, or especially confident either.  Her sorting was the fastest that Harry had seen, with the hat barely spending any time on her head before announcing "Hufflepuff"

With a big smile, she pranced down the aisle between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.  With a glance to Fay, Harry decided to raise his hand for a high five with the latest Hufflepuff, and to his surprise, Gabrielle turned to follow suit.  Hermione nudged the boys beside her, and Bones ended up high fiving herself all the way down to her seat on the other side of Cornfoot.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff," the first year Hufflepuffs chorused as she sat down.

"Thanks," Susan said, turning to Cornfoot.  "Sean, in Hufflepuff too.  You know what this means."

"I get you into the locker room, after a game, with me," Sean replied.

"Wait, your father is Veritas Cornfoot?  And you'd be the Crowning Cannon?"

"Love the team, hate the mascot uniform.  It was cute when I was five, but I wish they'd see I've outgrown it."

"Kind of have to agree with you there," Ron said, before they turned to high five Terry Boot who had just been sorted into Ravenclaw.  "Mum made one for me when I was six, and altered it until I was eight.  Ginny's got it now, but I think she's decided to never wear it again, after the butter beer incident."

"That was your sister?  I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't want to show her face at a Cannon's game again."

"Yeah, well ... she's not as much of a fan, so probably not."

Nott and Davis soon joined Slytherin, but not with the high fives that the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had given.  Then Vincent Crabbe was sorted into Gryffindor.

Harry could tell that the boy didn't expect that, as he trudged around the outside of the hall, to go to a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table.  Less than a quarter of the way down the table, a red headed prefect put out his hand for a high five, and then two more Gryffidor carrot tops put out their hands, and then all the Gryfindors behind the followed suit.  By the time Crabbe found his seat at the end of the table, he was smiling widely as his obviously unexpected new house welcomed him.

Wayne Hopkins was the last name to be called by Professor McGonagall, and it did not take long at all for the boy to be sorted into Ravenclaw.  As the boy went down the row between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, neither house was willing to be outdone by Gryffindor, getting high fives all the way down, and a veritable chorus of welcomes to Ravenclaw echoed as he passed each group.

As soon as he sat down, applause broke out among the upper years, and did not die down until some minutes have passed.  By that time, Professor McGonagall had made her way to her seat next to the Headmaster.  She tapped her wine glass and two clear tones rang throughout the hall.

"Before we open the feast, a few start of term announcements," the Headmaster said.  "As you may know, recent events have required us to seek out a new Professor.  After a great deal of negotiating with their current employer, I am happy to announce that our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, William Weasley, shall be arriving tomorrow afternoon, after wrapping up a few last tasks for Gringotts."
Harry looked to his right, and saw Ron putting his hands on his forehead.  "All I need now is for Charlie to be announced as Flying Profesor."

"Doubtful, Charlie just got out of Hogwarts last year," Gabriel said.  "I don't think he wants to risk McGonagall's wrath so soon after ruining Gryffindor's chances at the Quidditch Cup by leaving a half year early.  Not that the opportunity wasn't too good of one to pass up.  I wouldn't."

"You're not working with dragons, ever, Gab," Gabrielle replied.

"... And a few last words.  And here they are Nitwit! Blubber!  Oddment! Tweak!  Thank you."

And with that, a feast appeared on the table, with all sorts of food, some of which Harry had eaten before, and some he'd never even seen before.

"I've said it once, I'll say it again, our Headmaster is a bit mad.  A genius, and tops in the world, but mad."  Gabriel said, shaking his head.  "Try some of the broccoli, Weasley.  Vegetables are good for you."

Fay Dunbar was quite stuffed by the time the Hufflepuffs reached their common room.  She barely was able to keep her eyes open during the brief speech by Professor Sprout, and certainly wouldn't be able to quote a single word the next day.  She had been able to get to know Susan Bones enough that they'd agreed to use each other's first names, like had been done with all those she'd shared a compartment with. When the Professor told the fifth year prefects to lead the first year boys and girls to their respective dorms, she had a very big yawn before they even entered the girls corridor.  She wanted nothing more but to find her new bed and get to sleep.

"First Year girls are at the very end of the corridor this year," Gabrielle said.  "I think you're the first year I can recall where Hufflepuff had only two girls in a year.  Here we are. Wait, that can't be right."

That perked Fay right up, and it didn't take long at all for her to read the contents of the frame by the door.  "First Years: Dunbar, Bones, Cornfoot, Weasley, Finch-Fletchley, Potter, Longbottom, Malone, MacMillan, Malfoy."

The door opened, and the female prefect strode through it.  Fay and Susan stepped through the door right behind her. "Glad you could get here, sis," Gabriel Truman said from a seat next to the room's pot belled stove.  "I've already contacted Professor Sprout and she's gone for Professor Flitwick.  In the meantime, I've got the boys getting ready for bed."

"This won't work," Gabrielle said.  

The room had five two-person alcoves down the side to Fay's right side, and down the other side was a sink alcove flanked by two toilet rooms then flanked by shower rooms.  The closest alcove to the girl's entry way had a set of lattice work gates on them.  In between each alcove were either some sort of seating or a desk.  There were scatterings of rugs throughout the room, artfully arranged such that they appeared that they were causally tossed into the best possible spot.

"They're first years, put the girls behind the gates, some charms on one of the showers, and I think it will," Gabriel said, as Malfoy exited one of the shower rooms in a robe with still wet hair  "We share a bathroom at home, after all."  Malfoy crossed the room and entered the furthest alcove. 

"You're my brother, and if we didn't have a house elf, I'd be demanding that we didn't," Gabrielle said.  "Hello Professors."

"Gabbies," Professor Sprout said.  "Miss Bones, Miss Dunbar, I sorry for the trouble. But it appears that the low number of girls in your year has caused a bit of dorm configuration issue.  Fil, what do you think?"

"I think I see the issue," Flitwick replied, his wand tracing lines across the room.  "There is hidden dividers between two and three, and three and four, but not one and two or four and five. The divider trigger is adjacent alcoves with different sex assignments. It seems that no consideration was made for two or less of any given sex."  

He then cast something at the nearest alcove.  A blue glow briefly surrounded the door.  Flitwick cocked his head to the left, and cast again, this time getting a deep hunter green glow around the door.  "Miss Dunbar, if you would touch that door and say the word 'secretum.'"

Fay stepped over to the first alcove and as she touched the open door she got her first glance at the alcoves.  To each side of a window there were beds with a canopy dropping down from a center ring to drape against the wall and over the head an foot of the bed.  The bedding was different colors depending on which side you were on.  She decided she liked the one with blue and purple bedding with the lilac canopy best.  She touched the door.  "Secretum."  The door changed from an open grid to a solid plank door in the arched opening. 

"Now try 'patere,'" Flitwick said, as MacMillan exited from the same shower that Malfoy had, and headed to the same alcove, but only in a pair of boxers.  The boy looked like he was about to fall asleep.

"Patere," Fay said.  The door returned to the open grid door instead.

"I take back my statement about there not being a consideration for two or less of any given sex.  It appears at least the for the females, there is," Flitwick stated.  "The bathing areas and toilets have the usual charms on them, so as long as the door is closed, privacy and protection is assured, Pomona."

"Thank you, Fil," Professor Spout replied, as Ron exited the far shower still drying his hair with a yellow towel.  Like MacMillan, he was only wearing a pair of boxers.  "Boys! Out here please."

Ron came to a stop, as the others tumbled out of the other alcoves.  Out of the nearest alcove, Cornfoot came out, his left arm still completing putting on the Chudley Cannon orange robe over his boxers.  The next alcove discharged Finch-Fletchley in a black with light blue striped pyjama set that seemed to project expensive, as well as Harry wearing a navy robe tied at the waist with a white lion on the left breast.  The next to last alcove had Neville, who wore a blue shirt with "Puddlemere United" written on it with a logo of a chaser about to throw the quaffle, just pulling up a matching pair of pyjama bottoms.  Behind him was Malone who was still in his school uniform robes and had a cello's bow in his hand.  Lastly an already half asleep Malfoy, closing his robe and MacMillan emerged from the last alcove.

Fay thought the boys didn't appear to be that bad, if you excluded Malfoy, and she could already tell that Ron wasn't going to be the neatest of dormmates.  The towel that he'd been drying his hair with had dropped to the floor.  To be perfectly honest, her judgement of Malfoy was due to her encounters with the stuck up scion at various social events, not impressions at school.  It was really to early to judge anyone else as a dormmate.

"Boys, Girls," Professor Spout began.  "It appears that we're going to have to live with the current arrangement of first year dorms in Hufflepuff.  There is going to be some additional rules, however, and I reserve the right to change them if they don't work.  First, the doors to the girls hall, and the girls alcove shall not be passed through by boys.  I'm not entirely sure what protections have been placed, given that the hall slide isn't available on this end, and I don't want to find out.

"Second, when using the showers, they may only be shared by the same sex, and the doors shall be closed when they are in use.  The doors shall also be closed for the toilets as well.  Third, outside of your alcove and the showers, boys shall at least wear boxers.  Finally, I shall expect respect among the sexes, no intimate contact.  You're first years, so I'm not expecting it, but it bears repeating, do not abuse the trust I'm giving you by breaking these rules.

"I would try to move both girls out of this dorm, but the castle only provides exactly the right number of beds and rooms as needed. I expect you all to let me know if there are any issues what so ever, and I will attempt fix them.  The prefects, especially the Gabbies, will be available to help, as well.  Mister Truman, why are you grinning like that?"

"Just remembering last year's issue, third year boys dorms," Gabriel said.

"Right, amend that last rule," Professor Sprout said.  "No intimate contact, even if you're the same sex.  This is a dorm, not a brothel, and none of you are rooming with your betrothed either."

Fay had to wonder what happened last year with the third year boys.  There had to be a story in that.  But before she could gather the courage to ask, her Head of House said,"That will be all ladies and gentlemen.  Lights out is soon, and I expect you all to have a good night's sleep, as you'll need to be in the Great Hall at seven tomorrow."

Ron groaned at the time, but Fay didn't have time to figure out why, as she headed to the girl's alcove.  Based on where her trunk was, it looked like she was getting the one with blue and purple bedding with the lilac canopy.  She quickly pulled out a fresh pair of panties and the pajamas she slept in, which happened to also be a lilac top with three buttons and a purple bottom.  She kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks, before heading across the main room to the unoccupied showers, just a few steps ahead of Susan.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Malone crossing as well to the boys shower, barefoot but otherwise still in his school robes.  Susan closed the doors behind them, and without a word, spoken, but both with big yawns they undressed for their shower.  It was a very comfortable shower, with exactly the warmth that she expected of her showers, not too cold or too hot.  After several minutes cleaning with the provided yellow washcloth and some very nice honey scented soap, she rinsed off, toweled off, and dressed in her pajamas.

The main room was darkened by the time she and Susan finished their showers, but there was just enough light for them to get to their alcove.  She closed the door, still in it's open grid form, and then slid under the warm covers for a good night's sleep.

Dudley had warned Lily that her siblings would challenge her on her first night in charge.   Harry had figured that it would be spread over several nights, and bet that Brad would be first.  Lily had hoped that she wouldn't have that at all, especially since her mum had informed the whole family that she didn't want to hear any problems today.  Mum's pregnancy was not making her feel good at the moment, so she'd retired to the parent's room with a glass of ginger water and a good book.

It appeared, however, that some of her siblings had not learnt the lesson of keeping everything calm and following orders when mum wasn't feeling well.  It hadn't been hard to get Primrose and Noel to take their bath.  She'd called them right at seven fifteen, just like usual, and sat on the toilet seat while the two undressed and took their bath, just like she'd done a couple times when Harry was sick.  There was no playing in the bathtub.  Baths were for getting cleaned. A brief inspection had occurred to make sure they'd washed correctly, before she let them put on their underpants and go down for their snack, which Violet was handling.

Iris, at six, was trusted a bit more, and no longer shared the bath with her brother Brad.  If she shared at all now, it would be with Violet.  She was actually waiting for the bathroom to be free.  There was a bit of dirt on Iris's cheek that hadn't been there when Lily had gone up with Primrose and Noel. There was also a streak of dirt down one side of her outfit.  "They're done?" Iris stated.  "Good.  You might want to see to Badley."

Lily knew that the removal of the R in Bradley's name was not a good sign.  "What did he do?"

"Dad has him cleaning up what he tracked in," Iris said.  "He's blaming Dennis.  Something about Gnasher, a leash, and a squirt gun filled with cranberry juice, I think.  Whatever it is, Violet is not looking forward to cleaning his shirt."

"This, I got to see," Lily said. "Bathroom is yours for the next fifteen minutes ... maybe a bit longer if I end up having Bradley shower."  Iris nodded, as Lily passed her.

The moment she got downstairs, she found Bradley barefoot, only wearing his boxers, which appeared to have been dyed red and were soaked to his body.  His hair was covered with a white powder. By the door was his jeans, which appeared to be ripped on one leg and had mud on them.  He had a mop that which he was using to clean up a trail of mud."Don't ask, I'm not going to repeat it," Bradley said.  "Just ..  you know ... I don't know what, but Dennis is going to regret what he did."

"I see ... and are there any others that were involved, like perhaps Godwin and Crispin?" Lily asked.  Bradley tried not to show any reaction, but he was her little brother.  "Brad, would you be talking to Harry?"  Bradley looked up briefly with an expression of surprise.  "Okay, Dudley was right.  They thought the lid was off with Piers, Dudley, and Harry gone.  That dog is worse than our aunt's ever were, and if I'm not mistaken you got hit by the mudballs too. Violet!"

"Yes Lily?" Violet said, leaning out of the kitchen.

"Make sure Brad takes a shower at least, and is really clean for a change," Lily said.  "I'm going to make sure Colin is ready for his little brother ... but first, I think I need to talk to Porta.  Someone forgot about their Kipling."

"Kipling?" Bradley said, as Lily went to the phone and dialed Number Nine.  "What is Kipling?"

"Porta?" Lily said, the moment she heard an answer.  "Please remind Godwin about his Kipling, as we discussed last Wednesday.  Oh, has he come in?"

She could hear Porta over the phone state.  "You just got a call from the Dursley's, little Win."  She knew that expression would happen when Dudley made similar calls.  She'd been at the Creevey's when Dudley had called about Dennis before.  Harry, Dudley, and Piers called it giving fair warning.  It never was done older sibling to younger sibling, and Lily was a good girl, so she'd never gotten a call from Piers.  She'd seen both sides though.  Lily hadn't expected to have to do this so soon.

She heard Godwin glup as she said "Godwin, you and I are going to talk tomorrow on the way to school, but first, a single verse to haunt your dreams, because I'm not the Big Boys.  My reign as part of the Triumvirate is going to be different.  Why?  

"When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride, 
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside. 
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail. 
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

"If you though because Piers left you and your friends would be getting away with things, think again.  We're prepared to prove Kipling's poem.  Have a wonderful night."

Lily hung up the phone, having not let Godwin sign off  "Now, Brad, I need to know exactly what Dennis the Menace and his pals did, and I need to know it now, before I go handle him via window.  I can threaten Godwin without knowledge, but Dennis requires it."

Brad gulped.  "He thought I was the one that snitched on him with Mister Stone. So he sicced Gnasher on me.  I ran but ended up having to go through the Watt's front garden, which they've dug up but haven't put the new plants in.  Then I ran into Crispin and Godwin who dumped a bucket of this awful juice, soaking my clothes.  That let Gnasher catch up with me, and he ripped my jeans.  Dennis then pulled out his sling shot and shot me with a ball that burst into white powder when it hit my forehead."

"Good.  Now do you want a shower or bath tonight?" Lily asked, already knowing the answer.  So she looked around the hall and determined that Brad had done a passable job cleaning up after himself.

"Shower," Bradley replied.

"Okay, it looks like you've done here, so shower, and when you're done, report to my room for inspection," Lily ordered.

"Do I have to?" Bradley whined.

"What is your current streak of passed inspections with Harry?" Lily asked.

"Two," Bradley said quietly, looking down at his feet.

"And how many did Harry say you had to pass in a row?" Lily continued, her hand going out to raise Bradley's gaze so she could look him right in the eyes.

"Fifteen," Bradley replied, before turning around and heading for the kitchen door to the garage.

Lily smiled as her little brother headed to the showers in the back of the garage. Then she headed up to the room she shared with Violet.  As it was a rather warm night, but already cooling from the hot end of Summer day, the window was already open, letting a cool breeze in.  She could see that Colin was already in his bedroom, carefully placing his latest pictures in the portfolio file.  

Colin had the photo bug, having received a camera from his Uncle J.W. for his last birthday, and had the use of the dark room that Mister Gallegher had created for his son Todd back in the 60s.  He had one of the three drawers under his bed in the room he shared with his brother Dennis filled with his portfolio.  His window was also open, and it appeared that he was actually expecting contact.  "Lily!  Ready to shakedown Dennis the Menace?" Colin said.

"Yes," Lily said, as she slid Dudley's black bathrobe over her shoulders.  "Is the tape ready for tonight?"

"Yes," Colin replied, "Shall I get him?"

"Most certainly," Lily said, picking up an envelope and the letter opener that she'd prepared.  It didn't take long for Colin to bring the other occupant of his bedroom to the window.  She nodded to Colin, who pounded a mallet twice on the wooden window frame, actually causing Dennis to flinch at the sudden sound and the closeness of the impact.

"Here ye, here ye, the Court of the Youth of Privet Drive is now in session, Judge Lily April Dursley presiding in succession.  The case of Dennis the Menace et.al. vs the Crown thirty-five now sits before the bench."  Colin announced.

"Dennis the Menace, you stand before this court to be arraigned on counts of bullying, destruction of attire, and conspiracy," Lily said, casually slitting open the envelope, making sure that it would glint in the light of the setting sun.  "How do you plea?"

"Not guilty!" Dennis replied.  Lily knew that if Dudley were presiding their wouldn't be such a plea.  Same with Piers or Harry.  

"You've entered a plea of not guilty to this court," Lily replied.  "This is your right, though it may show some lack of remorse, that may be accounted for later.  This court, however is a court of fact, and you shall be allowed to present your facts and defend yourself.  However, it is late, so before we adjourn I must remind you:

"When the Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometime wiggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trial
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

"The defendant is remanded into the custody of his older brother, and this court is adjourned until thirty minutes after the dismissal of school tomorrow, at which time we shall reconvene in normal session in the Stone Playhouse.  Court adjourned."  

Colin slammed the window shut, loudly, and his brother jumped back into his brother's arms.  Lily watched as Colin managed to hold his next youngest sibling, saying something in his ears.  There wasn't much difference between the nine-and-three-quarters-year-old and the eight-and-a-half year old.  It looked like Dennis was surprised that his older brother was taking a hard line against him.  Colin was sometimes a bit of a menace himself, but Colin was more of an annoyance as opposed to Dennis's more bullying nature.  Lily would take Colin over Dennis any day.

There was a knock on Lily's door.  "Enter," she said.   She turned around as the door opened revealing Bradley, not dried completely, and with a head of hair that hadn't got wet..  "Brad, did you even duck you head under the water?"

Severus Snape was actually a morning person.  He was sure that very few people who knew him as a teen would believe it.  During his teenage years he hadn't been one, but he'd reverted to one as soon as he had become a professor.  It was why he generally did patrols Friday Night, it was the only way he'd be able to sleep in on Saturday, something he'd promised himself to always do once he was free of his father.

That didn't mean that he didn't enjoy a good cup of morning coffee with his point twenty fifth of a teaspoon of milk, stirred three and a quarter times.  The aroma was perfect, and the extra stimulate even potent in the air.  He'd made the cup himself, arriving at the Slytherin Common Room before the first student had woken up.  He took a seat by the door and awaited the arrival of each student.  It was a different method for him, but he wanted to delay his first encounter with Harry Potter.

He'd received a letter from Petunia shortly after the letters had gone out to the new first years, letting him know that Lily's child was coming for his first year.  She'd even included a picture of him with Petunia and her oldest daughter, who was a spitting image of Lily. He'd been greatly surprised at that.  Even more so when he'd discovered that she was the namesake of her aunt.

It was that picture that had caused him to take a good look at his past.  Seeing what was in effect an image of a younger James and Lily with Petunia put him in a much more reflective mood.  Oh, he still didn't like James Potter, but he could admit that he'd given as good as he'd got.  With Harry Potter having been sorted in Hufflepuff, which was never a threat to his house, he wasn't seeing a reincarnation of James.  James would have never been sorted into Hufflepuff.  He was too much of a pureblood charging knight in shining armor, a shallow person.  Hufflepuffs, he knew, had more depth to them.

Severus knew he'd probably have a few knee jerk reactions when he encountered the latest Potter, but it wouldn't be the same as it would have been if he'd been one of Minerva's lions.  Pomona kept a much more even kneel with her badgers, though you were to put one of them past their limits, well only a fool angered a badger.  Unfortunately, he had way too many fools in his house lately.

He'd been surprised when Draco had been sorted into Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin.  It would not be easy on his godson not to be in Slytherin, but he would have to let Draco know that his door was still open.  He'd probably need it once Lucius discovered his son's sorting.  Malfoys had been sorted into Slytherin since the first sorting with the Sorting Hat.  As a school governor, Lucius was probably going to make it a personal visit, and he was glad that he wasn't an involved head of house with that one.

As he got through the first tenth of students, Severus reflected that he wasn't exactly being bold at the moment.  He'd heard what happened to the Dark Lord in the Leaky Cauldron, and seen Lucius's burnt arm, still in the process of healing a month later, when they'd encountered Harry Potter and the Dursley's.  He didn't want to be the latest Death Eater to end up in with a burning arm.

A couple of fourth-years, Faustus McGee and his ever present best friend Fortuna Falstaff (don't ever say they were any more or less) entered, and rather than just stopping long enough to get their schedules, McGee spoke up.  "Professor, I just heard that they found Augustus Rookwood in a muggle hospital.  It seems he got struck by lightning on a rather clear summer day."

"I see, and what do they say that caused the suppose to be on work release Unspeakable to be smote from above?" Severus asked.

"If my sources are correct, he was last seen attempting to follow a certain family," Falstaff said.  "You know the one, with the recent surprise sorting into Hufflepuff."

Severus considered the unsolicited information a moment, and decided that it might be advisable to spread a bit more information around.  "To those that know Mister Potter, it is no surprise. I grew up with the aunt who raised him, a muggle true, but quite a hard worker believed in family unity.  A recent letter that I received has acquainted me to the current circumstances of the family.  Petunia has described her nephew as part of the glue that holds her family of eight children counting Mister Potter together. That suggested to me that as long as he did not fall into the regrettable Potter Family tradition of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff was most likely.

"However, a word to the wise, Potter in Hufflepuff is not an easy mark.  He will not be easily shaped onto any path he does not consider, and his family will remain paramount in his thinking."

"And at Hogwarts, your house is your family," McGee stated.  "We'll try keep the idiots in our year out of the way."

"You do that, and both of you will be prefects next year," Severus said.  It was an easy statement. The current fourth year in his house was filled with more than its fair share of dunderheads.  The only plus he'd found thus far was that their potions disasters usually ended up in sticky messes for detention uses than explosions.  

It did not take long for the rest of his Slytherins to file through on the way to breakfast and the Great Hall.  No Slytherin was dunderheaded enough to miss breakfast, and if there were someone that did miss it, there would be a good reason, like Miss Belladona's narcolepsy.  Fortunately she'd completed her NEWTs last year, so he wouldn't be going into the female dorms to find out if she'd fallen asleep again.

Priding himself for finding a way to avoid the encounter with Potter for a while longer, Severus looked down at his own schedule.  First class, First Years Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.  He went to take another sip of his coffee.  He'd already finished it.

There was only one conclusion, the world hated Severus Snape, and he was going to burn this morning.

Chapter Text

Professor Snape always made sure that he made an impression on his students, dunderheads they may be, in his first class.  Just because Harry Potter was in the class and what had happened to the Death Eaters who had encountered him, was not going to change the objective behind his. It just made his intended guinea pig change.

He watched from behind the painting of the Bloody Baron, which he'd had moved to cover an alcove across from his classroom.   As this was a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class, it was not unexpected for the Ravenclaws to arrive before the Hufflepuffs.  Indeed, every single one of them arrived before the gaggle of Hufflepuffs

He was not surprised that a Ravenclaw, Hermione Granger, was the first to arrive.  The girl had stuffed back pack on, and Snape was willing to bet that most of her text books, if not all, were in it. The Professor knew the type at a glance.  She'd probably be raising her hand all the time, and if he let her answer, no one would ever get an answer.  He'd never be able to figure out who was learning outside of tests and quizzes if he engaged in the get attention to show what I know students.  Far better to go to the ones whose eyes didn't meet his.

He judged Lisa Turpin to be much the same, save perhaps a bit lighter case.  If there was a third in this Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class would have some real trouble on both ends. It looked like Wayne Hopkins was at the opposite end of the spectrum of knowledgeable ravens.  The boy was actually reading his text book as he walked down the hall.  That usual meant one that wasn't going to raise their hand, but was often a good, if formulaic potion maker.

Snape continued to evaluate each Ravenclaw, getting the initial impression he needed to target his questions.  He had a good idea of how he was going to start with the ravens, they were the typical mix of over eager over achievers and reclusive book worms, with a few mixes in between. Nothing that he wasn't used to dealing with, and definitely not as complex and hidden as his Slytherins tended to be.

Then the gaggle of Hufflepuffs arrived.  This always happened, and a group arriving so quickly together that it was hard to get an individual impression before he came in. Fortunately there were some he could ignore.  He knew Draco Malfoy well, though being sorted into Hufflepuff made Snape question if he really did know the boy.  Still, he could focus his attention on the others.  He also did not focus his attention on Potter, having already focused enough of that during the feast.

Ron Weasley looked to be engaged in some light hearted conversation with Sean Cornfoot, probably quidditch related if Snape was any judge.  He didn't expect either to be focused in class, nor did he expect Ernie MacMillan to be engaged in class, as he patted Cornfoot on the back. The way Roger Malone seemed to be moving, with his upright posture and eyes focused ahead was promising.  Neville Longbottom, on the other hand seemed to be hugging the edge of the corridor as he walked with a unsteady rhythm.  That did not bode well for making potions which required precise stirring.

As the last Hufflepuff entered the classroom, it was time to step out from behind the painting and start class.  He swung open the painting and stepped through, before carefully closing it.  During his second year teaching, he'd opened and closed the painting so hard that it fell off two separate days.  He had no such compunction when it came to his own classroom door, letting it slam shut right before he began his speach.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," he began, as a pain started in his dark mark.  "As such I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making."  He reached the front of the room and turned around.  "However, for those select few who posses the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses.  I tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

That was when the pain in his arm around his dark mark caused Severus to stop.  His gaze swept around the room.  Potter was seated in the front row, directly in front of the black board, not an uncommon choice for a student with glasses.  It usually indicated that at some point in time in the recent past the student had delayed getting a new prescription.  Serverus realized that the pain had gotten worse when he'd gotten closer to the Hufflepuff.

Care would have to be done with getting near Potter.  He spotted that Miss Granger had her head down and was writing something across the room. Severus strode across the room, the brief pause serving only to heighten the tension in the classroom.  "Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough not to pay attention!  Miss Granger."  

A glace at the notebook open with quill poised to record his next word made him change course.  Still he needed to explain his approach.  She was a Ravenclaw, a hatstall at that.  He saw a thrust to prove herself in the girl's pose.  It reminded him a bit of Lily, actually.  A hard question, one that would show that the girl had been reading ahead, then move on to someone else, he decided.  It was unlikely that even a marginally reasonable question would catch the girl out, he judged."Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Most likely the Drought of Living Dead, sir, but I suppose it could also be the Wolfbane's precursor."

"Two points to Ravenclaw, Miss Granger," Severus said, the extra one going because it would have taken some really deep reading to discover the potion that wolfsbane had to be stored in for at least two days before.  "Though one would have to add iodine to that." 

He turned to the student against the wall.  Draco was the lone Hufflepuff not in the gaggle. "Mister Malfoy, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, sir," Draco replied, bright and firmly.  Severus was glad to see that the boy wasn't letting being a Hufflepuff stop his enjoyment of the one class that he'd long said he was looking forward to.

"One point to Hufflepuff, Mister Malfoy," Severus said, eying the back row of students.  It was time to go a bit out of potions text, to a related but to Severus's opinion the second most important class in Hogwarts, behind his own.  He strode right up next to Longbottom.  "Mister Longbottom, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane."

Longbottom had lowered his head at his approach, but as soon as Severus completed the question, he looked up, his eyes alight. "They are the same thing, sir.  It's also called aconite and should be handled with care as its leaves are very toxic."

"Two points to Hufflepuff," Severus replied, turning around and strode up to his desk.  He stood to the right of it, instead of the left, putting enough space between him and Potter to make the pain in his mark a dull ache.  He drew his wand, and summoned his lectern from the other side.  Then he looked at the blackboard behind him.  It had a boils curing potion on it.  That was a usual choice for a first potion, but perhaps something a bit different would be a good option.  He wiped the board with a non-verbal spell.

Severus opened his card file of potions.  There were many choices, but most of them he immediately discarded.  Either they didn't make a good first day potion, or they might cause issues down the road if the whole class knew how to do it.  Then his eyes caught a potion that just plain would be ineffective to use on his Slytherins.  The Ravenclaws might be able to figure out how to change the color to theirs, but it just wasn't possible to go Gryffindor.  He placed the card into a slot on his lectern.  The instructions appeared on the blackboard.

"We will be starting with a hair potion," Severus began.  "This one goes by the rather pedestrian name of formula fifty-six.  It is also an early step in what is known as Sleek-Easy hair potion, which as you will discover in later years is an amalgamation potion..."

Ron Weasley had long thought that his brother Bill was the coolest of his older brothers.  That was before Bill opened his mouth.  "Up front, Ron.  I think we need to talk a bit before we start class."  Percy may have told him to arrive early but sitting in the front row was another thing. Bill took a seat across the desk from him, his arms crossed against the back of the wheeled chair that reminded him of the one for his father's roll top desk that had briefly served as an extra kitchen table chair a few years back.  It looked like solid oak, was armless but had once had arms.  It had a deep brown padded seat, which Bill was sitting the wrong direction.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't able to talk to you before class," Bill said.  "I had the Gryffindor password, but I'm not even sure that I know where the Hufflepuff dorms are.  I didn't date one like Charlie did. I know where Ravenclaw Tower is, hard to miss that after the triennial space launch, and if a Gryffindor doesn't know where Slytherin is in the dungeons, well.  Hufflepuff tends to get overlooked, like you do."

Ron looked up at his oldest brother.  Somehow Bill had managed to notice what he'd long felt.  At the Burrow it wasn't uncommon to hear about Bill as head boy, Charlie with Quidditch, and recently Percy's new prefect badge.  Fred and George were twins and big jokers who always got attention. Ginny was the girl and the youngest.  That left Ron, sitting in the corner being ignored save for occasional games of chess with his father or Percy.  Not so much lately with Percy, since Ron had been beating him so throughly lately.  It had almost been enough for Ron to throw a few games just to get Percy to play with him more, but Ron couldn't do that.  It was one of the few things he was good at.

"I know, having a big brother as a Professor isn't going to be easy for you, and don't expect me to make this an easy class.  If it was an easy class, I don't think you would have pride in doing well in it.  I'm not going to favor you, but I'm also not going to make it impossible for you.  Read the chapter before class, I'm sure you'll be able to answer the questions I ask.  But not today, today isn't in the book.

"Now, Ron, it is about time that class starts, but if you don't mind, I'd like to stop by your dorm every once in a while.  Perhaps this evening after dinner?  It's been way too long since we've be able to talk with each other without interruption."

"Has that ever actually happened, Bill?" Ron had to finally respond.  The Weasleys were a big and boisterous family.  Quiet talks without interruption rarely if ever happened.

Bill laughed heartily.  "You have a point," Bill said, slapping his arm around Ron's back, before heading to the front of the classroom.  

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts... "

It was just after four when Lily, Porta, and Colin entered the Stone Playhouse.  Already seated on chairs along the side wall nearest the door were the defendants, Dennis Creevey, Godwin Porkiss, and Crispin Adams.  They were sitting in the red chairs, which were a little small for them, and per tradition their pants were around their ankles to "prevent escape." 

Lily, Porta, and Colin had on the traditional play judge wigs and all wore black shirts.  Only Carrie Stone had a black robe to use, and those were actually her bathrobe.  There was a hand-me-down old one of hers that had been stashed in the play house, but with the full panel, well it was better to match.

The Stone Playhouse was a rather large play house as play houses went.  It had a set of fake petrol pumps out front next to the oval of pavement that various childhood vehicles had circled around.  Inside it had a fake kitchen, complete with a fake washer/dryer, oven, and stove. There was a high table, which the judges would sit behind on stools, and a set of bunk beds along the back.  On the side that the defendants were seated there was a well-used chalk board, a clock, and a bell that could be rung from the house.  

It had been built by Mister Stone, with a solid stone foundation and a thatched roof that was replaced regularly.  He'd intended on it outlasting his children, some day turning it into a workshop, which explained it's foundation.  As Carrie was having his first grandchild, that wasn't likely to happen any time soon.

Lily had been chosen to be the chief of the panel by majority vote, 2-1.  She couldn't fault her fellow judges' reasoning, much as she thought being the sister of the victim didn't make a good panel, but sometimes it was inevitable.  After all the defendant and one of his co-conspirators were younger brothers of the two other judges.  There wasn't a judge who wasn't related in this case, something that she knew was going to be a way too common case.

Lily brought down the gavel, whose sound echoed rather nicely.  Then Violet spoke up, acting as baliff, "Before this court, Judge Lily presiding with Judges Porta and Colin, en blanc, in a combined case, over Dennis the Menace et.al. verse the Crown, the thirty-fifth such case.  Defendants are the aforementioned Curly Crispin, and Pieface Godwin, also known as the Menaces.  The honorable Iris Dursley, stands for the crown."  It was tradition that each defendant went by a nickname.  In the two cases that she'd been brought before the court, she'd been Lily the Fire

"Iris, what are the charges that you bring before the court?" 

Iris smiled one of her too good to be real grins.  "Dennis the Menace is charged with three counts of destruction of lawn, two counts of soiling of clothes, one count of incitement of canine attack, harriment outside of agreed games, simple assault, and prevention of obeying parental orders.  Curly Crispin is charged with a single count of destruction of lawn, two counts of soiling of clothes, harriment outside of agreed games, attempted restraint, and prevention of obeying parental orders.  Pieface Godwin is charged with destruction of a planter, dangerous deliberate targeting of a squirt gun, simple assault, and prevention of obeying parental orders."

"How do you plead, gentlemen, and I use that term extremely loosely?" Lily asked, directing her glare right at Dennis.  It looked like he was a bit afraid of her, which Lily thought might be a good thing.

"I plead guilty on all counts, and throw myself on the mercy of this court," Dennis replied. After a moment's silence, he elbowed Crispin and Godwin, who were seated on either side of him.

"I thought we were going to test the new judges," Crispin whispered back.

"I read the Kipling that she quoted," Dennis said, his voice low and unsteady.  "Harry, Dudley, Piers, they were males, and females are deadlier than the males.  Yes, my older brother is on the panel, but he's a coward.  And to quote:

"'She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells—
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else. '

"There is a reason we don't appeal to Carrie, even before she got pregnant.  Now we should hope and pray that my brother can cede us some mercy in sentencing."

Both Godwin and Crispin gulped visibly before echoing Dennis "I plead guilty on all counts, and throw myself on the mercy of this court."

Lily looked at Colin, who shrugged and remarked, "Okay, I was wrong, Kipling is amazingly effective."

"I told you.  Gentlemen, you sentences have already been discussed among each of us, and we have decided that you're going to get to chose from each of our sentences, but you will not know which is which.  Yes, we're going with dirty sentencing," Lily said, sliding her sentences for each of the three into her envelope. "Your sentencing envelopes, judges?"

Colin and Porta each handed Lily an envelope which she shuffled with her own.  She was pretty sure that the sentences each of them had given were pretty close to each other, after all they'd discussed the options, but the Menaces didn't know that.  The Menaces had no idea even who might be the easiest or hardest sentence.  That made the game of a full panel with guilty pleas a bit less fun or predictable.  Lily drew the middle envelope from her shuffling.

"I have here envelope number one," Lily said, knowing exactly whose envelope it was, even though they looked outwardly the same, unless you looked very close.  The Menaces couldn't look that close.  "It seems to be a rather thick sentence, which might be worrying to you, especially given that, as Kipling said, the females of the species are deadlier than the male, and two of us three happen to be just that.  Of course, you could take your chances on envelope number two.  I assure you that both are fair sentences."

"Our judgements are absolutely equitable," Colin picked up.  "Though perhaps the fact that I know you so well, Dennis, might make whichever envelope is mine a bit more on point."

"I think my little brother might be a tad bit more worried," Porta said.  "After all, Piers gave me the big book of little brother punishments, right Godwin?"  Godwin paled a bit at Porta's smile.

"So, Dennis, as the first on the docket, envelope one or two?" Lily asked.

"One," Dennis said boldly.

"I really didn't think he'd stick with that one, Lily," Colin said.  "Dennis, you're a brave man."

"Unless he wants envelope number three," Porta remarked.  "It doesn't bode well for Godwin.  So, little brother, two or three?"

"Th-th-three," Godwin stuttered.

"That leave two for Crispen, unless he wants to risk taking one from Dennis?" Colin asked.  "My little brother might not like that, or then again, he might just like you to steal the envelope from him.  It could be from one of those females of the species, or it could be from me.  My sentences on Dennis – well perhaps it's better that you don't know my thoughts on punishing him."

"You're not tricking me into taking from Dennis," Crispin replied.

"So, Dennis, would you like to take three from Godwin?" Porta asked.  "I kind of hope you do, it would be so fun if he ends up with what I gave him."

"That one has to be my brother's, I'm taking three," Dennis said.  "Sorry Godwin."

Lily made her biggest smile before turning to Godwin.  "You know, I've found that knowing too much about someone really makes the punishment work so well.  Are you sure you don't want two from Crispin?"  Godwin shook his head.  "Very well.  Time to see exactly how creative everyone got with the sentences."

Lily opened envelope number three.  It was Colin's sentences.  "Oh boy, Colin, I have to say you're evil."

"My oldest brother is evil," Ron Weasley said dropping his books on one of the tables in the Hufflepuff First Year Dorm.  "Ending class with a tour of the library ... how is that Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"I don't know, his Dark Arts of Madame Pince's Library tour certainly gave us some defense against her," Harry said as he leaned back on one of the scattered low chairs in the wide main chamber of the Hufflepuff First Year dorm.  He'd already dropped his robe in his alcove and picked up his Transfiguration book to look over for the next day's class. "I think Hermione enjoyed it.  At least she had much larger load of books when she left for Ravenclaw than you picked up."

"I asked Bill what I really needed to check out first.  It had to be on the very top shelf in the very back of the collection," Ron replied.  "I thought I'd be able to relax a little at school instead of Mum always pushing me to do stuff.  Then bloody Bill had to become a professor.  Why did Quirrel have to die?"

Harry weighted responding for a moment.  "Sorry about that, I didn't think trying to shake his hand would turn him into ash.  The smell was horrible."

"You were there when it happened?" Ernie MacMillan asked, as he tossed his robe into the alcove he shared with Malfoy.  After classes were over you didn't have to keep the school uniform on, and the Hufflepuff dorms were on the warm side.  Pretty much all of them had ditched the black wool robes.  MacMillan had rid himself of his tie, and unbuttoned hid white dress shirt to reveal a Wasps t-shirt.

Malfoy leaned out of the alcove, "at least try to get it on your bed, MacMillan."  Malfoy was still in his uniform, save that the tie was gone.  Malfoy seemed to really hate his Hufflepuff tie.

"My family was visiting Diagon Alley for my school supplies.  From what the Auror told Aunt Petunia a few days later, Professor Quirel had been possessed by the seriously evil wizard who killed my parents, and the protection that my Mum created by her death for the rest of the family literally burnt the Wraith of You-Know-Who out of his body.  He'd been possessed too long, effused with the wraith throughout his body, so he burnt up.  I had nightmares for days.  That smell."

"It's not just the Dark Lord's possession that burns," Malfoy said almost inaudible to Harry as he exited the alcove and found a seat.  It wasn't close to the other chairs, which were pretty close to the center of the chamber, but over almost all the way to the door to the boy's corridor. 

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Harry said, curious.  After all, if it was something that his mother's protection did, he needed to know.  At first it didn't look like Malfoy was going to respond.

Malfoy seemed to sink into himself as he sat in the chair.  He wasn't opening the book in his hand, as his eyes focused on the floor in front of him.  Harry nearly resigned himself not to find out, before Susan spoke up.  "Come on, Draco.  I think you need to say it."

Malfoy stood up, and uneasily moved forward.  He let the book he'd had in hand drop to the floor.  As he began to pace, you could hear his deep breath, as he settled himself, as if he was about to release a big load from his body.  "My father was a Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, so they say.  He claims that he was under a curse to obey.  All of the Dark Lord's inner circle have this mark, father calls it the Dark Mark, that the Dark Lord gave him.

"Father always tries to hide it, I'm not sure why.  Anyway, he was in Diagon Alley when your family went by, Potter.  The Dark Mark caught fire, and the burns, they're not healing well.  I'm worried for him."

Harry stood up and went to stand by the now stationary Malfoy scion.  He placed his arm around his fellow Hufflepuff, much the way he'd done so when his younger cousins were in similar moods. "He's your father, fathers are important, and you should feel that way.  I don't have one anymore, but I remember when Uncle Vernon, my guardian, broke his arm at work.  Seeing the cast on his arm, well, I thought he was going to die like my father did at first."

"Father is too important to die," Malfoy said, as Harry turned him so they faced each other.  Draco was actually just a little bit taller, but somehow Harry still managed to envelope him in a hug.  As Harry held Malfoy, it was like something went loose inside Malfoy, as he slumped against Harry.  Tears started going down his face.  For a long minute, nothing was said, before the gates opened up.

"I'm afraid he'll be disappointed in me," Draco admitted pulling slightly away from Harry.  "Father expected me to be in Slytherin, to rule the school, or at least my year within days.  Now I'm in Hufflepuff that's not going to happen."

"Don't count on that," Harry replied.  He was kind of used to this.  It seemed that all of his younger siblings and their friends had ended up in his arms at one point or another.  Aunt Petunia said it was because he was like his mother, a natural at getting people to open up.  "Like Professor Sprout said, we're Hufflepuffs, we can do anything."

Draco pulled out of Harry's embrace, pulled out a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his robe, and blew his nose.  "Not going to happen.  I already know who is going to rule our year, and it is not me.  It never was going to be.  And you know, I really don't mind."

"We haven't been hear a full day, how do you know that, Malfoy?" Macmillan asked.

Draco looked around the chamber.  "It was always going to be Harry, come on.  Boy-Who-Lived?  Heir to the Most Noble House of Potter?  Who somehow filled a compartment on the Express with no less than three children of Wizengamot members, and one head of a minor department of the Ministry.  Don't scoff at that, Weasley.  Your father might be in a small department, but my father has real respect for the office, even though he's been a rival of yours since their first years.  

"If Granger doesn't end up being number one in our class, I'll be surprised, just based on sharing a couple classes and being in the library with her.  You know she memorized Hogwarts, a History?  
"Both Thomas and Finnigan are likely to be tops in Gryffindor.  You saw how they greeted and introduced the others to us.  Though I already knew Crabbe.  Zabini is going to rule Slytherin since I'm not there, and that's only because he sat with you on the Express."

"Sitting with me isn't that important," Harry replied, feeling his face warm with his blush.

"It's Slytherin, who you're seen with is all important.  That and who your family is, and what your parents do. Everyone knew who was going to be what in Slytherin.  Then I had to be sorted in Hufflepuff, because, apparently, I will do well here.  Mangey old hat!"

"Bradley, get the mail," Vernon ordered, as he heard it hit the floor and the mail slot snap shut. He was hoping for a letter from Dudley.  It may have only been a couple days since he'd dropped his son off, but Dudley had said that he'd write earlier and more often than Harry would.  A white form glided through the open kitchen window, before landing on the back of Petunia's chair.  It was Hedwig, and it looked like she had a letter.

Lily was smiling as she stepped up to get the letter off of Hedwig.  "I told you my older brother would write first," she said, addressing Bradley as he got up.  Vernon had known for a while that Lily was not actually his child, being magically transferred to Petunia on her sister's death.  It had been something he'd suspected at first when she started having accidental magic.  For a while he'd thought that the sign of a Dursley was no magic, then Bradley had summoned his pacifier, and he'd discovered Violet adjusting the color of her shirt the next day.  Still, it actually hurt him a bit when Lily started aligning with Harry instead of Dudley.

Lily still called him Dad though.  Vernon missed her calling him Daddy.  The way she used to plead with him, drawing out the word had never been matched by his younger children, and even Harry was his child, as far as he was concerned.  Lily was growing up way to quickly.  She was nine, now, and just starting to show signs of her development. He was hoping that she would develop more of a sense of modesty, soon.  Thus far, the only sign he'd seen of it was the one time he'd opened the garage door to discover that she was showering in the back.  That reminded him, it was past time for him to finish installing the privacy wall for the shower and sinks he'd installed as a project last summer.

"He's in Hufflepuff!" Lily said unscrolling the letter as she read it.  Bradley was returning with the stack of Royal Mail that had been shoved through the letter slot.  "Told you he wouldn't be in Griffindor, Noel!  And definitely not Slytherin, Brad." 

Bradley looked up from shuffling the letters.  "Nothing from Dudley," Bradley said in a monotone.   It had only been a couple days, but Vernon could tell that Bradley was missing his older brother.  Bradley was now the oldest of his boys at home, and third eldest child not away at boarding school. He'd hoped that it might give his son just a little bit more maturity, with some additional responsibilities devolving to him, namely taking more a role with Noel and being responsible for the cleanliness of the room the two shared.  Judging from the peak he'd taken of the room, that wasn't happening yet.  "There is a letter from Aunt Marge."

His children didn't like Vernon's sister.  There were times where he had to agree with them.  The Ripper Incident being one of the primary examples.  He'd nearly torn his sister a new one when the dog, after chasing Harry up a tree had bit then two-year-old Noel.  It had taken a while before she was welcomed back to the Dursley home. Marjorie, she'd insisted on being called by her legal name after Vernon turned ten, was his sister, though, and the usual Spring visit to her home out in the Lake District where last year they'd been able to ride the Steam Yacht Gondola was a highlight of the Dursley family's year.

Vernon opened his sister's letter, as Harry's letter got passed from Lily to Violet.  It began with a whole page about the antics of her dogs, which Vernon only skimmed.  It was an interest he didn't share with his sister.  He was a cat person, not a dog person, and if it wasn't for practicality, he probably would have encouraged Harry to go for a cat instead of getting the owl.  Next was a little bit about some house and kennel renovations, then a request on how Petunia was doing with her latest pregnancy.

Vernon looked up to discover that Petunia was just entering the dining room.  As she passed near enough, he reached out to pull her into a kiss, causing his children to immediately groan.  She was sixteen and a half weeks, now, and showing it a bit.  "How is the baby this morning, Pet?" he asked.

"So far, avoiding making me sick this morning for the first time in weeks," Petunia said, looking over his shoulder.  "Marge?  I'll give you a couple paragraphs for your response.  Violetta, I'm next for Harry's letter, and Brad-de-kins, good attempt at making your bed, but you can do better."

"Yes Mummy," Violet said.  Bradley merely nodded back at his mother before going back to his breakfast.  Violet, on the other hand, seemed a bit hyper this morning, squirming in her seat as she finished Harry's letter.

Vernon turned back to his sister's letter.  It seemed that there had been an incident with Colonel Fubster, whose old regimental secretary had stopped by.  Marjorie was afraid that she might have made a fool of herself.  Vernon huffed.  It was almost a certainty that she'd made a fool of herself.  His sister had it bad for the Colonel and really should give it up, because the Colonel did not and would not ever, as far as Vernon could tell.

The Colonel had apparently volunteered to watch the kennel, though, so she could make her yearly trip to visit family in the South of England.  Most of which, Vernon was sure, could care less for her visit.  His children were not alone in that feeling.  She was his sister, and at this point, it was tradition.  Violet would move in with Iris and Primrose for the visit for the weekend of her visit.  Without Harry and Dudley, they wouldn't need to make up the parlor at night for the children.  He was sure that his children would miss that.  It was apparently great fun to camp out there.  Last year he'd discovered all eight of them asleep in the parlor on the third morning of his sister's visit.

"Marge will be here from the twenty-fifth to the twenty-seventh, this year," Vernon announced, to his children.  The groan from the six was epic.

Chapter Text

He was a rat, in more ways than one.  He was also a being with many different names.  He'd been born Peter Pettigrew.  His mother called him Petey.  When he first started Hogwarts, he was Pete.  By the time he was done, he was Peter. He was also Wormtail to his friends.  At present he was called Scabbers, and being in the first year Hufflepuff dorm was a place of a mysterious pain.

He wanted to go to the Burrow, or maybe even return to Percy and Gryffindor Tower.  He couldn't.  The pain made it so hard to think and escape.  It had been nearly constant since Ron had sat down on the Hogwarts Express.   With the constant pain, Scabbers had even had a few thoughts that perhaps letting one of the cats eat him.  Not Mrs. Norris though.  Scabbers had standards.

Right after Defense class on Friday, Ron approached his oldest brother.  Since class was over, he didn't have to address his brother as professor, unless he had a question about class.  That was the agreement that Bill had made with all of his siblings.  "Bill?" he called out, taking Scabbers from his pocket. 

"Yes, Ron?" Bill said, coming around to sit on the front left corner of his desk.

"Is Charlie still visiting home this weekend?" he asked, looking at his pet rat, who seemed to be not taking well to Hogwarts. 

"Yes," Bill said.  "Something wrong with Scabbers?"

"Maybe," Ron said.  "He's been limping around his cage, and seems kind of shabbier, not cleaning himself like he usually does.  Can you see if Charlie can do anything?"

"I am stopping home this weekend, to see Charlie," Bill said.  "But you know Scabbers is rather old for a rat."

"I know, but he's my first pet, even if he is a hand me down, old, and not very good.  I don't want to lose him."

Bill tousled Ron's hair before replying, "I'll take him to see what Charlie thinks."

The moment that Scabbers left Hogwarts, he started to feel a lot better.  Still not great, days of pain were not recovered in moments.  It made him wonder.  Was there something in Hufflepuff that his form was allergic to?

Petunia Dursley was not entirely comfortable driving Vernon's new company car.  Mister Grunnings was quite happy with Vernon's performance, especially after he'd found those illicit transfers of funds by his predecessor.  Old Mister Grunnings had personally delivered the Jaguar Sovereign to Privet drive, and insisted that Petunia try out the very comfortable seats. Petunia admitted that she like the seats on the new car. In fact, she'd found them more comfortable than some seats in the house lately, and the sound reduction by closing and locking herself in the Sovereign, well it had been a refuge from her since Dudley and Harry had left.  She hadn't realized how much she relied on her oldest son and nephew.

Vernon might like the responsiveness of the Jaguar, but Petunia was long used to the much more sluggish 1974 Triumph 2500 Estate that was the Dursley's primary car before.  Vernon didn't trust the 2500 for longer distances, hence his insistence that Petunia take the Sovereign to the Devon home of the Weasleys.  Petunia was very glad that they were off the A30.  It might not be the M3, or even the M25, but Petunia swore that at least three lorries were trying to run her off the road.

A glance at the mirror revealed that Iris, Primrose, and Violet were behaving themselves for once.  Lily had earned the front seat.  One girl trying to fill Dudley and Harry's shoes wasn't easy, but she was trying.  Petunia caught Lily's look to her out of the corner of her eye.  "You're really looking forward to seeing Ginny again, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Lily said. "And seeing the magical place she lives at too.  I nearly can't believe some of her descriptions."

Petunia turned off the road into an opening between two walls one of which had a sign that said "The Burrow" on it.   "Well, Lily, it looks like we're here."

Petunia came to a stop as soon as the vehicle was fully in the clearing that the house was built in.  Molly had said that most wizarding families didn't have driveways, but Arthur was obsessed with muggles, and had a Ford something or rather.  Molly wasn't sure what model it was.  Petunia applied the hand brake, undid her seat belt, and existed the vehicle, for the first time getting a look at the Burrow.

The Burrow was magic.  It was obvious that the house wouldn't stay up without magic.  The base was a typical cottage, with some of it's original thatched roof poking out between the extensions that had been stacked on top.   The first floor was perhaps the most sensible of the stacked on floors, almost being on top of the ground floor, though the space between the two sections was a bit off centered.  The second floor, though, that's where things really got off.  It was about forty-five degrees out of alignment with the floor below, with two corners touching the two sections of the first floor.  Petunia had no idea how it was really supported.   Then there was the third floor which was a tall section with a very peaked roof over the least supported section of the third floor.  Petunia figured if the magic ever failed that section was going to topple off right onto the garden shed. 

Lily was already running up to the front door by the time Iris, Primrose, and Violet got out of the Sovereign. Petunia held Primrose's hand as they approached the Burrow.  The door open, and Ginny Weasley darted out of it towards Lily.  The two met in what could only be described as a twirling crash, as they embraced at speed and spin around, with big grins on their faces.

Molly Weasley followed in her daughter's wake.  "It looks like our daughters were a bit eager to meet again," the Devonshire house witch remarked.

Petunia looked at were Iris and Violet had joined the two red headed girls.  "I'd say so.  It looks like Ginny is planning on showing my girls around, though my little Primrose here, still suffering from spraining her ankle yesterday.  The pain medicine has made her a bit drowsy.  That being said, it's one less direction for me to be pulled in."

"Poor girl," Molly replied.  "Even magical potions don't seem to do so well with sprained ankles. Ginny used to have a real problem with them, trying to follow her older brothers around."

"Well, today she's the eldest, so we'll see what turnabout does," Petunia replied. 

Molly smiled, then cocked her head briefly.  "Come on in, I made some biscuits, and the kettle is on for some tea.  I can show you around my domain while Ginny pounds up the stairs with your children.  My second son Charlie arrived a little while ago, and my eldest Bill said he was coming from Hogwarts this afternoon.  He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.  I never thought I'd have a son teaching at Hogwarts."

"So we might get an honest opinion on how our children are doing in their first year," Petunia said, following Molly into the kitchen door.  "Harry's writing, but he's always been a rose-colored glasses boy."

"Oh, we might have to ply him with some tarts, there has only been one time, maybe two, that Bill has been able to hide what was going on from me," Molly said.

"I hate to say it, Mum, but Bill's a lot more successful than you think," a young man with the same red shade of hair as his mother said as he came down the spiral stair case into the kitchen.  The young man held out hand, "I'm Charlie, dragon wrangler."

The pain's reduction reversed the moment that Scabbers appeared in the Burrow.  It went up and down as Bill entered the structure and was hugged by his mother.   It waned a bit when Bill went upstairs to deposit his trunk in his old bedroom.  But as soon as Bill passed Ginny's room, it increased again, and got worse as he passed the young blond girl who was doing some sort of sewing.  Scabbers wasn't sure what type.  He didn't sew, knit, or crochet. 

When Bill opened the cage and Charlie peered over it, Scabbers was relieved.  Surely Charlie would know the cause.  It wasn't the first time that Charlie had healed an injured Scabbers.  The rat on a stick incident still ranked high on reasons why Scabbers never wanted to be a young child's pet again. 
 

Lily was really enjoying her time at the Burrow.  She'd even managed to get on a broom briefly, having been sworn to secrecy by Ginny.  They'd just been called in for lunch, though.  The smells of Mrs. Weasley's home cooking filled the kitchen as they entered. There was another Weasley brother that Lily had not met sitting at the table.  This one had a fang earring and was wearing some rather nice robes that reminded Lily a bit of the dress robes that she'd seen at Madam Mulkins. Lily figured this had to be the Weasley brother who was now Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, home for a visit. 

Iris was already inside, having grown tired of the more tomboy-like behavior of her older sisters and Ginny.  As Lily had expected, Iris had the cross-stitch kit from Aunt Marge out.  She was almost done.  Little Primrose was also inside already, apparently having just woke up from her afternoon nap, judging by the bed hair and stretching.   Behind Lily were Violet and Ginny.

"So what do you think Charlie," the new Weasley brother was saying.  "I can't find any reason for Scabber's limp." They were looking at a rat who was laid out in a cage with its top off.

"I don't see any, Bill, whoa!" Charlie said as suddenly a flame appeared on the rat's left front leg. He quickly cast a charm that had water flowing his wand.  It didn't seem to affect the flame.

Lily jumped back as the water shot towards her, and the flame went down a bit.    
Bill looked at the girl.  "Can you step forward a bit?" he asked.  Lily did, and the flame went up.  "Back."  It went down.  "Charlie, be ready to stun."

Charlie tilted his head a bit and stopped the water charm.  "Ready."

Bill  pointed his wand at the rat, and a blue light shot out at the rat.  The open cage was busted as a head shot out away from Lily and feet shot towards her, but ended just short of her.

"Stupefy," Charlie shouted, and a red light hit the former rat.

"Mum, call the Aurors, now," the older Weasley brother said.  Lily saw Mrs. Weasley head over to the fireplace and toss some sort of powder.  The flames turned green.  "Girls, back away a bit.  I don't know who this rat is, but he's been hiding among this family for a decade, as a probable illegal animagus."  He tapped his wand on the former rat's left arm, where the flames had burnt away the sleeve.  There was a tattoo, still slightly flaming. "This is a real worry, though.  That's the mark of You-Know-Who."

Lily's mother stepped up beside her, and gently pulled her back a little, before speaking.  "I think I know this man.  He was the one who told me where my sister was hiding so I could go visit.  That's Peter Pettigrew."

Lily's attention was directed back to the fireplace, where Mrs. Weasley had stepped back.  A tall black man in a brown trench coat stepped out of the fireplace, followed by two other men, who were not as impressive. 

"Auror Shacklebolt," the first man identified himself, addressing Bill.  "This is Fawcett and Sink.  Professor, your mother tells me we have a possible illegal animagus."

"Positively identified as an animagus by use of the reversal charm on his rat form," Bill said.  "I can confirm that the rat has been with the family since November 3, 1981.   As you can see the rat has a Dark Mark on his left forearm."

"Did you burn the sleeve off?" Shacklebolt asked. 

"No it burnt off due to familia protection charms," Bill said.  "This is Petunia Dursley nee Evans.  She identified him, and you're going to love how."

"Mrs. Dursley," Shacklebolt said.  "Do you know this man?"

"That's Peter Pettigrew," Lily's mother said.  "He was one of my brother-in-law's friends.  I last saw him in 1980 when he came to tell me where my sister was so I could go visit Lily."

"I see, and did he tell you by giving you a parchment?" Shacklebolt said.

Lily could tell that her mother was looking back on a frustrating time, as she replied, "It might have been easier if he had.  He just told me that Lily and James Potter reside in Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow.  No directions, just the statement.  It took me forever to find the right Godric's Hollow.  Did you know there are six of them, four in England alone?"

"Just try investigating a crime you're just told occurred in Newton," Shacklebolt replied.  "Are you willing to testify to that?"

"Of course," Lily's mother said. "I don't see why it would be important."

"If I'm not mistaken, Mrs. Dursley, this man is the one who betrayed your sister and brother-in-law to You-Know-Who," Shacklebolt said.

Lily looked at the rat-faced man on the table, and was filled with fury.  This was the man who was the reason she hadn't grown up as Lily Potter, the reason her brother had lost both his parents.  She stepped forward, her hair starting to spark with accidental magic.  She looked right, at Violet, then left at Iris, before the three of them stepped forward.  The flames on the dark mark flared, and more of the rat-faced traitor clothes caught fire.

"Lily!" her mother scolded.  Lily looked at her mother.  "Let Shacklebolt and his men handle it."

Lily took a deep breath and calmed herself down.  She stepped back a few steps, and the flames from the Dark Mark went down and out.  Not before it consumed most of the rat-faced man's clothes, and caused burns up and down his arm.  She was sure the man would have a hard time recovering from his encounter with the Dursley family.

"Fawcett, the cuffs," Shacklebolt said.  "Sink, ready the portkey to the cell.  I think you'll be actually using those long hours instead of working to avoid your wicked stepmother.  Mrs. Dursley, where might I call upon you to get testimony or serve a summons for this man's trial as a witness."  He pulled out a notebook with a spiral wire on the top.

"Myself and my daughters may be found at Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging Surrey," her mother said.  "You'll need their names, of course.  My eldest here, with the red hair, is Lily April Dursley."  Her mother put her arm around Lily's shoulders calming her down quite a bit, but not before her nimbus of hair discharged in a spark.  "The blonde by the door is my daughter Violet Dursley, and the one with the cross-stitch is Iris Dursley.  On the stairs is my current youngest, Primrose Dursley."

"Can you spell Primrose," Shacklebolt asked.  "I never can remember that."

"That's P-R-I-M-R-O-S-E, and just in case, Dursley is spelled D-U-R-S-L-E-Y."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley," Shacklebolt said turning towards Mrs. Weasley.  "Mrs. Weasley, I know Bill, and Charlie, but I'm afraid that I can't recall your daughter's name."

"Ginevra, that's G-I-N-E-V-R-A, though she goes by Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said, as the rat-faced man and Auror Sink disappeared.  Lily and her sisters all looked to the adults.  

"It's just a portkey, girls," Shacklebolt replied noticing the questioning looks, apparently.  "Sink's taking Pettigrew to lock up.  We'll start processing him when we return.  Mrs. Weasley, could we impose upon you for dinner, tonight?  I have a feeling that there are a lot of questions about the last decade that I'm going to need to ask after our initial interview with the prisoner."

"You, just want a home cooked meal," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"Your dinners are well known," Shacklebolt said.  "Keep out of areas that the rat frequented.  We may have to search them.  Mrs. Dursley, we will probably call on you tomorrow or the next day."

"Lily, Violet, and Iris will be in school on Monday," her mother noted.

"Understood," Shacklebolt said.  "It's unlikely that I will need to interview them, however.  Fawcet?"

Lily noticed that the other auror had the cage that the rat had been in, as well as a parchment roll that she could see was signed "Bill Weasley" in his hands.  "Ready, sir."

"Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Dursley," Shacklebolt said with a nodd of his head, before both him and Auror Fawcett disappeared.

"Well, we can have lunch now," Mrs. Weasley said.

Sean Cornfoot was perhaps in an unique situation as a son of a professional Quidditch Seeker.  His father had been starting seeker for the Cannons for the last twelve years, since just before Sean had been conceived, and team captain for the last five years.  Most such children of starting seekers had to deal with a mass of fans trying to get their father or mother to sign an autograph

There were fanatical Cannons fans, but they were rare enough that Sean had never experienced having to fend off autograph hounds trying to get access to his father.  Cannons fans were rooting for the scrappy underdog, and didn't want to risk causing them too lose.

So when he'd discovered that the Hufflepuff that he was sharing his sleeping alcove with was a Cannons fanatic, he really didn't have any concern.  He was more worried about Susan Bones than Ron Weasley.  She wanted in the locker room, when no one was there to test some sort of theory about a curse on the cannons.  Ron was just looking for a few autographs and was willing to wait for them.

So Ron being a Cannon fanatic was not a problem.  The two orange beds in the alcove most certainly where not a problem.  Ron's was more plain orange where Sean's had yellow hoops on some parts of the bedding.  Sean was not a seeker like his father, he preferred to play keeper, which might be a problem later, as that was also the position that Ron played.  Sean, however, had no intention of becoming a Quidditch player.  He knew the follow of that career.  Long careers in Quidditch only occurred on the Cannons, and if he was going to play, he wanted to play for a good team.  Neither the Cannons nor the current Hufflepuff team applied.

"Here you go, Ron," Sean said, taking out the roll of parchment that had been delivered by his father's owl, Newton.  Ron hadn't been at breakfast when it arrived.  It was a Saturday, and Professor Weasley had gone home.  This had given Ron a 'blissful ability to sleep in without brothers waking me up," as he'd said.  Sean wasn't going to stop anyone from sleeping in on the weekends.  

"Thank you," Ron said unrolling the parchment.  "They all signed it.  I've never been able to get a signed poster before.  I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Nah, you're not looking for something like Susan is," Sean said, as he moved to lay back on his bed.  "She wants into the locker room after we lose a game."

"You make it sound so bad," Susan said, poking her head into the alcove that Sean and Ron shared, which happened to be one down from the one she and Faye shared.  "I just want to be able to determine what curses keep causing the team to lose.  Aunt Amelia says that if there are curses they'd be detectable after a loss."

"Yet no one has ever been caught cursing the Cannons to lose," Sean said.  "Win, yes, lose, no.  It didn't work.  Heck, even liquid luck didn't get us to win, and the Ministery sanctioned that attempt." 
 

Harry had learnt quite a bit about the expectations everyone had from him during his first week at Hogwarts.  He was apparently supposed to be a high powered brave hero, that everyone expected would be in Gryffindor.  Some seemed to think he was going to be a stuck up celebrity.  There was a segment of students who thought he was a pyromaniac. The latter was a case of the wrong family member.  If there was a pyromaniac at Number Four, it was Lily, who had a real affinity for accidentally setting things on fire.

Lily's first accidental magic everyone remembered was during a power outage when the-then-two-year-old had lit all the candles in the entire house. Then there had been the incident when Uncle Vernon had decided that taking his four eldest children camping in the Cotswolds was a good idea. Lily had nearly burnt the area of outstanding natural beauty down when she got fed up with her poor skills at striking a match.

As Harry relaxed in the common area of the first year dorms, he read through Hedwig's morning delivery, letters from Lily, Bradley, Violet, Iris, Noel, and even Primrose. (Though it looked like Lily had wrote Primrose and Noel's letters for them, though both of them had signed their names.)  Apparently Aunt Petunia had taken the four girls to visit the Weasley family, who they'd met on the platform.  Bradley and Noel were both a bit upset that they hadn't been invited, especially since the three eldest girls had managed to sneak riding a broom.  (Harry wasn't supposed to tell, because apparently no one knew that Ginny Weasley was a broom ace.)

Lily had informed him that Dennis and his Menaces had already attempted to test her judgements, but the poem had worked at striking the fear of the female of the species in them.  They apparently thought that Colin was an easy mark.  Harry agreed with that.  While both of the eldest Creevey boys were menaces, they were menaces in different ways.  Colin was always that enthusiastic young boy, hyperactive and always bothering Mr. Gallegher. He could still hear Colin calling out "Mister Gallegher!" spreading out the last syllable.  Lily was complaining about having to clean the boys room.  Bradley and Noel were never the cleanest of his cousins, Bradley especially.

Then there was Violet's letter, where she made her usual complaint about the gym education at their school.  She may have had a point, but he would have liked to find out a bit more in the page and a half letter about how she was doing. That was Violet, though.  She hadn't written enough to get personal.  It was the same with any time he talked to her about what was bothering her.  It took a long time before she'd get to the real issue.

Bradley was a bit upset that most of Harry and Dudley's chores had landed on him.  Not all of them.  Some went to Lily, Violet, or Iris, but the big boy chores were now his. He was also mad at Dennis Creevey, who seemed to have thought that without Dudley and Harry on the street, it was free reign for the Menances.  He'd be recommending that Bradley open up to Lily more.  Or get Colin on his side.  It was time Colin actually cracked down on his eldest little brother.  He was the eldest, he should act like it.

Iris's letter was written on pink paper with purple ink.   Much to Harry's surprise, it consisted almost entirely about how Ron's mother ran her kitchen.  Well, there was one other item, an item that all but Noel and Primrose had mentioned.  That being Aunt Marge's impending visit.  Harry was so glad that he wasn't going to be home for that.

Noel's letter was pretty much what he'd expected of the five-year-old. He wanted Harry's room under the stairs, which to be honest, Harry was getting a bit big for.  He really hoped that Uncle Vernon's plan to raise the roof of the garage and put another room there would finally get going, especially since there would be another Dursley due in February.

Primrose's letter wasn't much, save that she really missed him and Dudley and couldn't wait for him to come home for Christmas.  Well that, and her complaint about Noel calling her a baby since she wasn't in school like he was.  Her signature, in red crayon, was better than Noel's.  She signed, he printed.

Harry put aside the letters.  As he put them down, he noticed that Ron was just leaving one of the toilet alcoves.  Remembering Lily's letter, he said, "sorry to hear about your rat."

"What about it?" Ron asked with a puzzled expression.

It was obvious to Harry that Ron had yet to be informed of the events at his house the prior weekend. "My sister and cousins were visiting your sister when your brothers were looking at your rat," Harry began.  "Apparently he was a Death Eater transformed into a rat, somehow.  My sisters set him on fire."
 
"Your sisters set my rat on fire?" Ron said, in an incredulous tone. 

"Apparently Death Eaters encountering multiple Dursleys is detrimental to the Death Eater's health," Harry replied.

"What happened to Scabbers?" Ron asked, his face starting to get a bit red.

"He's in Auror custody," Harry said.  "According to Lily's letter, he was supposed to be dead, but was hiding with your family, unknowingly.  Oh and his name is apparently Peter Pettigrew. Lily said him being alive is bringing a lot into question, but she's not sure why."

"My rat was an animagus named Peter Pettigrew," Ron said slowly.  "And your sisters set him on fire.  You know how crazy that sounds?"

"You do remember what Draco said about when my cousins walked by his father?" Harry said.

"Yeah, but my rat being a hidden animagus who is actually a Death Eater, you know how crazy that sounds?"

"I think you just said that, Ron."

"Well it bears repeating," Ron replied.  "Are you sure?"

"Well, you could ask your brother the Professor, but I think he's already left for the Burrow again," Harry said.

Chapter Text

The journey from the Lake District to Number Four Privet Drive was not the most pleasant one for Marjorie Eileen Dursley.  At one time her travels would have begun with her brother Vernon picking her up along with a select dog or two.  That no longer happened, and Marge understood why.  With his eight children (counting his nephew Harry), and apparently another on the way, there simply wasn't a way to get away. 

Marge was proud of her brother and his large family.  At one time, she'd dreamed of having a large family of her own.  Sadly that was no longer possible, thanks to, well she still occasionally needed to see a therapist about it. Still, she liked to see her nieces and nephews.  It was a bit of a shame that none of them liked dogs like she did.  They were great big protectors of their owners that were sometimes absolutely essential.  

It was probably her fault, at least with Bradley.  She hadn't realized just how aggressive Ripper was.  After Ripper's attack on Bradley, she'd regretfully made the decision to put the dog to sleep. Ripper hadn't had any offspring, but his dam had several.  There was certain something wrong with that dam, and it had ended up in the pups.  She'd alerted the people that she'd sold the others from Ripper's litter of his over aggressiveness, and it had come back that pretty much every one of them had instances of such attacks.

At one time Marge would have used more course language to refer to the issue with Ripper, perhaps referring to his dam as a bitch, which she did contend was a perfectly good reference in the field, but she was on her way to Strychth Station and family, finally, so moderating her language, even in thoughts, was a good idea.  For once she'd avoided the tube, but only because she had decided to visit her old friend Melody in Bassingstroke the night before. Even then she had to change at Clapham Junction for Raynes Park where the Whinging Branch Line broke off.  

The Whinging Branch Line had some of the worst rolling stock in the whole country, in Marge's opinion.  Even the old stock that had been running in the Lake District when she'd moved up that way had been better than the Sprinter that she was currently on. That being said, it was not a long run, and she'd be leaving via Whinging Central off to Effington, on a fortunately altered service that would allow her to conclude her autumn vacation in Penzance where she'd be meeting some friends from her boarding school days who knew that she'd need company around this time of year.  After all, they'd been there for her in her sixth year when it had happened. 

As usual, when the train took the curve past Maiden Manor on to the Whinging Branch Line, it seemed like he was taking it to fast to Marge.  They were not scheduled to stop at Titter, a sometimes scheduled and sometimes request stop, but the horn blew as they approached, and from her position next to the window, she could see that there was a nun on the platform with her arm out, making her intent clear.  It was just her luck for the day.

When Marge finally did arrive at Stychth, she alighted to discover that she was being met not by Vernon, or Petunia, who given her condition Marge hadn't expected, but by Lily and Bradley. Bradley was pulling the wagon she'd gotten for him for his fourth birthday, a Radio Flyer Town and Country that she'd bought from America.  She remembered how wide his eyes had been when he opened the box up.  "Good Afternoon, Bradley, Lily.  I see you brought appropriate transportation for my suitcases."

"Yes, Aunt Marge," Bradley said.  "Mum suggested it, after Dad got called into work."

Marge ruffled Bradley's blond hair, so much like his father's had been when he was little.  She still remembered how light it had been.  "Well, I think both of them will fit, and it is a bit of a walk from the station to Privet Drive."

"I walk twice as far to get to school now," Bradley said.

"Maybe, but I don't think either of us want to carry my suitcases that far," Marge replied.  Then turning to Lily she said, "And how is my red-headed-step niece?"

Lily giggled at the nickname that Marge had given her.  "Good, now that I'm in charge."

"Oh, so your mother is delegating things to you now that Dudley and Harry are away at school," Marge said.  "It must make you feel quite grown up."

"A bit, but I miss Harry and Dudley," Lily replied.  "They're much better big brothers than I am as a big sister."

"Hey! You got Dennis and his menaces to stop going after me," Bradley said.  "Dudley and Harry never managed that."

Marge was well aware that the second child of the next door neighbors to the Dursley's, the Creevey's second son she thought, was the leader of a group that tormented her nephew and nieces.  The way that boy had egged on his dog, Gnasher, to hassle the younger children of Privet Drive had long irked her as a breeder of dogs. 

"Well, maybe," Lily said.  "Though that does remind me, can you talk to Mister and Misses Creevey about raising dogs.  I think Colin is doing it right with Ruff, but Dennis and Gnasher, well, I remember what you said."

"I think I can find some time to do that," Marge said, putting her arm around her niece.  "Now, tell me, is your father still drinking that awful coffee in the morning?"

"No, Mum cut him off," Lily said, "Though I bet he's just getting it on his way to work, or at work. Mister G. seems to really like coffee."

Petunia Dursley found the atmosphere of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to be strangely reassuring.  It reminded her a bit of the setting of those police procedurals that Vernon had recently taken to watching.  The "Overkill" theme to The Bill suddenly played in Petunia's mind.  The room was an array of desks, some of which had old manual typewriters on them that seemed to be responding to the aurors' dictation, though one man a couple desks back from where they were sitting was actually typing with his. There was a certain smell to the room, of old paper and staleness, with just a hint of disinfectant, as well.  All and all, it felt familiar, even with the paper airplanes going from station to station making impossible motions for something that normally glided to a stop.

She was not quite sure how she was going to handle leaving three of her daughters while she attended the question of the other.  Her own questioning, that she had no problem.  Lily and Violet could easily handle Iris and Primrose.  It was just when either of them were alone with her youngest daughters that she was quite worried.  By long experience, she knew that Iris and Primrose were prone to going in opposite directions at a moment's notice.

Something about the typing auror caught Petunia's attention, and was changing her feel of the room as aurors entered and exited.  She wasn't sure what it was, but there was this feeling that he wasn't quite right, perhaps dangerous in some way.  Petunia focused on his desk, pulling Primrose to her lap.  She read the plaque on the desk.  Senior Auror Everild Tripe.  

Petunia wondered if the auror lived up to his name.  Probably.  The desk had a stack of folders on it, and Tripe paused every once in a while to look at something in one of those folders, usually not one of the ones at the top.  Something about the man triggered her

Primrose escaped her lap, something that she was expecting to happen.  Her youngest daughter wasn't exactly know for staying still.  She escaped to the left, towards where Tripe was sitting at his desk, and suddenly the man's arm went up, and his other hand clasped over it.

"Primrose," Petunia called.  "Sit beside Lily." Then she quickly scanned the bull pin. She spotted the black auror who'd been called to the Burrow.  "Auror Shacklebolt!"

Shacklebolt came over to Petunia.  "Ah, Madame Dursley.  I'd heard you were coming in today."

"Yes, but unfortunately my daughters are a bit antsy today," Petunia said, looking into Shacklebolt's eyes.  "Like fire ants have gotten in their pants."  Her head jerked slightly towards Tripe.  "Perhaps you might know something help with that."

"Well, I see," Shacklebolt said.  "In that case, I see that Aurors Sink and Fawcett are in.  Lily, can you see Auror Sink?"

"Can you take your sister Primrose over there?" Shacklebolt asked.  "He's known for having some little puzzles to lend to young girls like your sister."

"I see him," Lily said, as Shacklebolt pulled out his wand.  "Come on little Prim.  I know how much you like puzzles."

"Puzzles!" Primrose cried out, and practically pulled her sister towards Auror Sink, right past Auror Tripe, just close enough that his sleeve caught fire, right where a dark mark would be.

"Stupify!" Shacklebolt said, and Auror Tripe collapsed right on to his flaming left forearm.  "Mrs. Dursley, my apologies, but may I borrow a couple of your daughters?  It seems that there are few aurors whose loyalty to the Ministry and the Queen should be checked again."

"Given what the late so-called Dark Lord did to my sister, Auror Shacklebolt, I am quite willing to let Lily and Violet take a walk through the aurors," Petunia said. "Though I ask that you give Lily a good primer on being an Auror.  She's recently acquired her Uncle James's journal, and has some questions."

Bradley looked over his shoulder as he entered the back garden of Number Four, making sure nothing was following him as he opened and closed the gate.  Being right next to the Creevey's, it was really too easy for either Ruff or Gnasher to sneak up and into the back garden.  His mum would kill him if either of them got back there and messed with her prized roses and lilies. He was still looking over his shoulder a bit when he cleared the corner of the house, stepping off of the slate path that Mister Stone had installed for them.

"You're afraid of dogs, Bradley," Aunt Marge said, causing Bradley to jump a bit.  Aunt Marge was sitting on a lounge chair on the patio next to the dining room's conservatory extension. 

"Ruff isn't bad," Bradley said, trying to deny it.  He'd been afraid of them since he was a toddler and he'd been attacked by one of Marge's dog's after it had lost Harry's scent.  Harry had been very apologetic at the fact that his escape had allowed the dog to bite Bradley.

"You've got a right to be afraid," Marge acknowledged.  "If I'd known what Ripper was gone to do that day, I would have put him to sleep earlier.  As it was, I had to prevent myself from using unethical methods to kill that dog.  I've made sure that none of his get have bred since.  That kind of aggressive behavior among family is not acceptable for a family pet."

"Really?" Bradley replied.

"Yes, and I think I'm going to need to talk to the family next door," Marge said.  "The older boy and his dog seem to be doing everything right, but the next child and his dog ... that dog is being guided towards behavior that will have it put to sleep."

"Gnasher is a terror," Bradley said.  "He's always nipping at me, trying to trip me, and he's even ripped my new jeans."

"I definitely will be stopping by number six," Marge stated.  "It's alright for a dog to be protective to it's family, but aggressive behavior, no.  I've been breeding bulldogs for decades, and I know how dogs should behave.  I'm not always perfect, of course, and a dog will react if pushed beyond the limits of its breed.  Most often, it's the owners, not the dog that's the problem.  And I have to say that boy is a menace who shouldn't have a pet."

Bradley could only nod his agreement.  He'd never had anyone put it that way before, but now that he thought of it, the two Creevey dogs were reflections on the two boys who owned them.  Colin was boisterous, always cheerful, too cheerful if you asked Mister McGreevey, always getting into anything.  It was nearly impossible to not smile in Colin's presence.  Dennis, on the other hand, was mischievous, always getting into trouble.  If there was some way to add chaos into the street, Dennis would do it.  You did not tell Dennis that something couldn't happen, because Dennis would see it as a challenge, and you never, ever wanted to be around him when he was bored. 

"Now, Bradley, or do you prefer to be called Brad now?" Marge asked.

"Brad," Brad confirmed.

"I remember when Vernon decided to just go by Vern when he turned nine.," Marge reminisced.  "He thought it was more grown up and sounded better.  I disagreed.  I did agree that being called Vernie was just not right for anyone over the age of five. Brad sounds a lot better than Bradley, unlike Vern over Vernon.  So, Brad, I haven't really got to know you, out of all your siblings.  That's really a shame. I do, however, know that you have a liking for Iru-Bru."  Marge reached down and opened the basket next to her chair.  "Have a can, I won't tell your mother, and tell me about yourself."

Brad wasn't usually allowed carbonated beverages.  They were an unnecessary expense, and the sugar rush was not good for him, according to his mother.  He wasn't going to pass up the Iru-Bru, though.  So, he took the can from his aunt, opened it, and took a seat on one of the iron stools that in the summer had his mother's house plants on them.  "Okay, Aunt Marge."

"Mister Potter, I am Auror Sink, and this is my partner, Auror Fawcett, we're here to talk to you about two incidents, you are not under investigation for any crime, we are merely here to get some details about the incident and develop an understanding as to how the protection that your mother has endowed to you and your Dursley cousins," Auror Sink began.  "This is Unspeakable Kitchener, who will be attempting to translate your descriptions into known magical effects.  Professor Sprout, I'd like to thank you for sitting in as loc-parental."

It wasn't the first time that Harry had heard of Aurors Sink and Fawcett.  Lily seemed to be quite enamored of them in her last couple letters. Though Shacklebolt had drawn more of that, as he'd apparently discussed one of the cases in their father's case book with her.  It had been a fascinating tale about a wizard whose hat had been charmed to collect certain small objects, or so Lily had said.  She wanted him to hear the tale from Shacklebolt himself. 

"Now, Mister Potter, it was my understanding that while this was not the first time you had been to Diagon Alley, it was the first time you'd gone without a disguise of some sort.  For the record, can you tell me the reasoning behind this?"

"It actually wasn't the first time, my Aunt Petunia said that she'd taken me before my third birthday, and had dealt with a bit of a crowd when a patron of Flourish and Blotts spotted my scar.  I don't really remember it, but it made an impression with Aunt Petunia.  She was in her first trimester with Bradley at the time, and apparently there was some sort of magical reaction that Madam Villanelle still references whenever Bradley gets a book.  Ever since then, my aunt makes me wear a hat far down enough to cover my scar.

"This time, since I was going for Hogwarts equipment, I asked if I could go without the hat, so any of my fellow first years I met wouldn't see me hiding who I was.  Aunt Petunia agreed, as did Uncle Vernon."

"I have a description of what you wore, a Chesley jersey and faded blue jeans, is that correct, and was their anything special about the jerseys?"

"Yes.  Nothing special, it's what most of the boys in the family wear on outings, anytime we go somewhere special outside of Little Whinging."

"Little Whinging would be the town you live in?" Auror Sink asked.

"Yes."

"Quill, obscure 'Little Whinging' from the transcript for witness safety.  Now, I'm told you entered the Leaky Cauldron around half passed nine, can you describe you initial impressions."

"Well, it first was just like any other time that we'd gone to Diagon, save that this time everyone but Uncle Vernon was there.  He was putting long hours at Grunnings after his latest promotion, fixing his former boss's boss's messes, two weeks before.  I was paired up with Bradley, who as usual was not holding my hand like he was supposed to. Tom waved from the bar, like he always does for anyone passing through.  It seemed normal, to me, at least until that gust of wind came through from the Alley."

"How would you describe that gust of wind," the Unspeakable asked.

"It was a rather warm wind, but it was Summer," Harry said.  "It also seemed to be right at the top of my head.  It didn't ruffle Bradley's hair at all."

"I see," the Unspeakable replied, writing something down.

"Now, what happened when you were spotted?" Sink prompted.

"Well, it seemed like everyone came over, and they didn't want to give me any room.  They practically pushed Lily into my back, and someone knocked Primrose over."

"Whilmeana Cobble, I hope she followed my suggestion and wrote an apology letter," Auror Fawcett said.

"Lily shouted right next to my right ear for everyone to back off, but no one did until Hagrid told everyone to do so. He kind of powered his way through the crowd and pushed everyone aside making room around me.  Lily was finally able to move to my side instead of being pressed against my back.  I could see my younger cousins in the gaps that people backing off were making, and I figured they'd get through the crowd before long.  He introduced himself, and then noticed Professor Quirell, just as Noel and Iris got through the crowd. 

"I told Hagrid that I was going to Gringotts and school shopping, just as the crowd seemed to part for Professor Quirell.  It was about that time that Primrose came up beside Hagrid, on the opposite side from Quirell.  Her eyes were still tearing, and Dudley wasn't far behind her.  

"Hagrid introduced him as my future Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Quirell said something like I didn't need it.  It was about then that Bradley stumbled around the professor, causing him to step forward.  

"Aunt Petunia's always been about politeness, so I offered my hand and introduced myself saying, 'Harry Potter, I look forward to coming to Hogwarts and your class.'  I was just about to touch his hand when he jerked his back as if he was burned.  That's when I noticed that Violet had completed a circle of everyone but Dudley around Quirell."

"Would you say that the children in your family were equidistant around the Professor?" Unspeakable Kitchener asked.

Harry paused for a moment, trying to bring the day back into his mind more fully.  Recalling where each of his siblings, they were more that than cousins, were positioned, he tried to figure out the angles of the six siblings from him. "Roughly, I think so.  I can't be entirely sure."

"And did you spot any sparks, or anything that might have signaled what was going to happen?" the Unspeakable asked.

"Not really.  The first sign was his hand jerking back and it couldn't be even a second later that I started to smell that putrid smell of burning flesh. Then I saw that tendril of smoke from his right hand.  The smoke started coming out of every opening in his robe, and he made that cry for his Master to save him.  Then he collapsed into a pile of ash and robes, as black wraith, at first I thought it was just the smoke, but it stayed together, hovering about my eye level.

"It said 'Curse you Potter!" and threatened revenge, before heading towards me, but it couldn't get close to me, and curved up to the ceiling.  That was the last I saw of it."

"I see," the Unspeakable said.  "I believe I can now determine the cause of the demise of Professor Quirell.  In my expert opinion, I believe we are dealing with the exorcism of a shade possessing the professor, caused by an enhanced love protection, probably laid by Lily Potter on the night of You-Know-Who's attack on the Potter family.  I believe it is focused on protecting Mr. Potter and his family from You-Know-Who and his minions, known as Death Eaters or Knights of Walpurgis.  Further study of Death Eaters who have encountered the Potter/Dursley family will be necessary."

"You might want to contact Draco Malfoy's father," Harry said.  "Draco's really worried about what happened when he ran into my family in Diagon Alley.  Apparently the burn isn't healing so well.  And well, Draco's my friend, and he shouldn't have to worry."

"We're already in contact with Lucius Malfoy's healers, as well as Augustus Rookwood, now that he's out of that muggle burn hospital.  Peter Pettigrew, well he's a special case."

As Roger took his cello out of its case, he felt a bit off.  He didn't feel like he quite fit into Hufflepuff, yet.  Roger had to admit to a bit of homesickness.  He missed being able to listen and play music.  The Malone family was a very musically inclined household, where it was not uncommon for someone to pick up one of the many instruments in the house and start playing.  Often, siblings, parents, cousins, or even Grandfather Malone would pick up an instrument and join it.

Roger Malone was a classically trained cellist, something he was quite proud of.  That meant, however, that he needed regular practice to keep it up, and at the moment he was practicing a few rather difficult pieces in the common area of the First Year dorms. He'd decided to practice in his alcove, on the theory that if someone didn't want to hear him, they could close the door.

At least that was his plan, before Neville stopped him in the middle of his second piece.  "Can you play a few waltzes?" he asked.  "Susan wants to dance."

"Waltzes?  Well, if you like Shastakovich, yes," Roger said.  "I need to practice of a Cello Solo arrangement of his Waltz Number Two.  My teacher wants me to play it until I do it a dozen times in a row without error."

"It's what, three and a half-minutes long?  That gives use plenty of time to dance, and hand off to others.

"Three fifty," Roger said. "And I usually end up getting to an hour before I manage to do that."

"Not a problem," Susan said. "Fay and I love to dance ... and I'm sure someone will cut in for Neville at some point.  Come out to the common hall, and play, Roger."

Susan practically pulled Roger out into the area between the alcoves.  The desks had been pushed to the wall, but Fay helpfully had placed Roger's chair under good light.  He took a good deep breath, centered himself and began to play.  His eyes were closed the though the first dozen or so bars as he took the difficult solo arrangement.  He'd played all three parts on a Trio arrangement, and the cello part of a string quartet (two violins, a viola, and cello) but the solo version had to do the who thing, and that made things complicated. 

As he opened his eyes, Susan was waltzing with Neville, and Draco had just bowed to Fay, before taking up her into his arms and joining the dance.  Roger lost himself to the music, playing it over and over, only vaguely aware of his fellow first-year male Hufflepuff cutting in to exchange while allowing the girls to get the long dances that they wanted.   As he got though the third repetition, he lost himself in the music, only cataloging the few mistakes he made, mistakes that he knew that the dancers would not notice as long he kept a consistent tempo.  

The tune flowed through him, the melancholy melody and its strong beat enmeshing itself into his very being.  Each note, each bar, each line, each repetition, baked the music of the composer into his soul.  Shostakovich had been one of Roger's favorite composers since he'd heard his Thirteenth Symphony, often called Babi Yar.  Something about that piece, about a massacre of Jews in a ravine near Kiev had stuck him.  He wasn't sure what, but since then, he'd sought out to learn as much as he could of the composer's work.  Unfortunately there were not a lot of cello pieces by the composer on his ability range.  

That didn't stop him from playing the piece, until he finally completed that twelfth consecutive correct complete composition. Only as he ended did he realize that there were more than first years in the room. Both Fifth Year Prefects, had stepped into the first year dorms, as had several third and fourth years, second year was probably still in Double Potions, and a couple of seventh years had joined Susan and Fay on the dance floor.  There was a moment's silence, before applause suddenly started. 

Gabriel Truman stepped over, his viola in hand.  "Do you know the string quartet cello part of that?" he asked.  Roger nodded.  Gabriel raised his viola to his neck, as his sister Gabrielle and a third-year, Fiona raised their violins.  "One, two, three."

And the piece picked up one more time, this time a bit less difficult as the piece was split in fourths, but also a lot richer, as the four stringed instruments merged together.  Still a bit melancholy, now it also rose triumph.  As the piece reached it's mid-point, soaring from side to side, the dorm filled with dancing couples now, Roger felt at home at Hogwarts for the first time.

Chapter Text

Ron Weasley really hadn't expected to go on the stand to testify about his former pet.  Finding out that Scabbers had been an animagus had been a bit of a shock.  In fact he'd not believed Harry at first.  The idea that his pet had not been a real rat, and a Death Eater to boot, not to mention that it had been caught because he got to close to on of Harry's girl cousins ... it was laughable.

Then Ron had remembered what Malfoy had said about his father's Dark Mark catching a flame when Harry and his Dursley family had passed by.  It had been months, and only now was Draco's father's arm healing from the resulting burns.  Ron could see the burns on Peter Pettigrew's arm as he took a seat in the witness stand. 

His brother Percy had been expected to testify, as Scabbers had been Percy's pet longer than Ron had possessed him.  Percy was currently in Saint Mungos, and Ginny had spent a brief time there. His parents wouldn't tell him why.  Percy was expected to return to Hogwarts in a couple more weeks, with a rigorous course of treatment still, and was apparently not currently well enough to testify.

The old barrister, who appeared older than Dumbledore, approached the witness stand.  Ron vaguely recalled the woman's last name was Rumple. Ron thought it fit her. "You are Ronald Billus Weasley, of the Burrow in Ottery Saint Catchpole?" the woman asked.

"Yes."

"First year, Hufflepuff, my old house," the woman continued.  "It is my understanding that you grew up in the household that 'Scabbers' was a pet in, and after your brother Percy, the first owner of the rat in the family.  When did 'Scabbers' become your pet."

"When Percy got his prefect badge, Dad said that he could get an owl of his own, and he handed Scabbers down to me as soon as he came home from with Hermes."

"How was 'Scabbers' treated at the Burrow?  With Percy as owner and then once you took ownership."

"Well, both Percy and I had a cage for Scabbers, but we didn't keep him in it.  Most often he'd be in one of our pockets.  He'd also race up and down the side of the stairs.  Percy and I would rub wax along the baseboard on the outside of the spiral staircase and we had a spell that if Scabbers jumped up to it, he'd shoot down to the next floor.  We used to time it, and run Scabbers against the yellow necked field mice from the field behind the burrow.  Scabbers always won."

"Did you ever see Scabbers go into one of your sibling's rooms?"

"He was always ending up in Ginny's room instead of Percy's room.  Ginny's room is on the floor below.  He never learnt how to get up to my room, wouldn't come back to his cage and food once I became his owner.  Ginny was always bringing him back up to my room at the top of the Burrow."

"Are you sure that it was always that rat, not some other?"

"Scabbers is missing his left ring toe, which is kind of weird for a missing toe on a rat, especially since it looks like it was cut straight off," Ron said.  "Percy never could figure out a way that Scabbers could have lost that without losing other toes.  It was an eternal mystery, until I found out that he wasn't really a rat."

"When you got to Hogwarts, how did Scabbers behave?" Rumple asked.

"He really didn't do much," Ron replied as he thought about it.  "I didn't realize it until later, but from the moment I entered the Hogwarts express Scabbers wasn't as active.  I was distracted by the excitement of going to Hogwarts for the first time."

"That's quite understandable, any young wizard or witch would be," Rumple replied. "What did you do when you noticed?"

"Well, at first I really didn't know what to do.  Scabbers is really old for a rat, and I really didn't expect him to last long.  One of the prefects said that they often went rather quick when it happened.  Then I head from my brother Bill that Charlie was coming home, and since Bill goes home from Hogwarts every weekend, I asked him to take him to see if Charlie could find out what's wrong."

"And when you gave 'Scabbers' to your older brother Bill, who serves as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, that was the last time you saw your rat as a rat?" Rumple asked.

"Yes." Ron replied.

"No further questions," Rumple said.  

"No questions," the other barrister said.

Ron left the stand.  He was grateful that he was now done with that, and hoped that he would never have to go on the stand again.  As he returned to his seat at the audience, sitting down between his father and one of his sister's new friends, Lily Dursley.  He recognized Lily's position, that of the older sibling covering the side away the lone supervising parent.  He didn't get to have that position often, only when he was alone or when Ginny was the lone other sibling with either Mum or Dad.

He knew from Harry that Lily had played the role before, but wished that either Harry or Dudley would do it. 

Lily really hated when Primrose was focused on imitating her.  Primrose had been assigned a seat next to Lily, and had actually changed her clothes to match Lily, delaying their departure by several minutes.  Every few minutes, Primrose would steal a glance at Lily before trying to match what her big sister was doing.  She turned away from Primrose and focused back on the court case. 

Unspeakable Kitchener was on the stand.  Harry had written a letter to Lily about the Unspeakable being in the interview with him.  Lily focused her attention on the testimony, berating herself for letting her little sister distract her.

"... of Mysteries found the magic enacted by the late Lily Potter to be quite innovative.  The very acts of first killing Lily Potter who was protecting her son from attack then attempting to kill her son imbedded a strong protection against all that had opposed the family.  When Mrs. Dursley took Harry in, and built her family around that familial love, storge which built into agape ..."

Lily felt a poke from next to her.  She turned.  It wasn't Primrose, who was on the edge of her chair, with her hands on the rail in front of them, listening closely to the Unspeakable.  It was Noel.  She glared back.

"Sorry, Lily," Noel said, passing a note to her.  "To Ron and his father, from his brother Charlie."

Lily quickly passed the note to Ron, before turning her attention back to the testimony. 

"... pain in the mark.  If the warning is not taken, the protection increases.  The most common reaction to a Death Eater coming closer to someone under the protection of Lily Potter is the Dark Mark catching on fire, but stronger reactions have been recorded, including one case where the Death Eater was struck by lightning on a day that had been cloudless until the approach of the said Death Eater."

As there was a pause in the testimony, Primrose turned back to Lily, and asked, "What is a Death Eater?"

Lily wasn't exactly sure how to reply to the just short of five-year-old.  She wasn't sure she even totally understood, but she was the big sister, oldest there, and a glance across her siblings showed that her mother was whispering something to Bradley and Violet.  So after a moment of silence, she replied, "Followers of the wizard who killed Harry's parents."

"Oh, bad people," Primrose said.  "The rat was one of them?" Lily nodded.  Primrose's face scrunched in anger, but she kept her voice to a whisper. "He betrayed your and Harry's bio ...  bio-lodge ..." Primrose struggled over the word, "biological parents.  I hope they throw him in jail." 

Lily looked back at the witness stand.  The unspeakable was leaving it.  She looked at Ron next to her, who was just looking up from a piece of folded parchment.  Beyond him, Mr. Weasley was still reading his own.  

Ron looked over at Lily, "Ginny wants to know if she can come over tomorrow afternoon," he said.

"I'll ask Mum," Lily replied. "Is she okay?"

Ron looked back at Lily, and Lily thought that the young wizard wasn't as quite as tense anymore than when he'd first set down beside her.  "Mostly.  I'm more worried about Percy.  Pettigrew messed with his mind, somehow.  Mum says he'll be back at Hogwarts on Tuesday, but will still be under treatment.  I've never had a brother have to undergo a long treatment.  Most of the time when my brothers or I got hurt we would be good by morning."

Lily wasn't entirely sure what to say.  She may have been the big sister for the Dursley family, but no one in the family had come to her with problems until very recently, they went to the brothers.  Then the thought occurred to her, "talk to Harry when you get back to Hogwarts.  It always helps me."

Bradley Dursley was not exactly sure why his Aunt Marge had asked Georgina Polkiss to come along with him to talk with the Creeveys.  True, Georgina did own a King Charles spaniel, which she had named Bonnie, which she had in her arms today.  As usual for Georgina, she was dressed quite impeccable with a pink lace blouse and a scarlet skirt.  She wore flat shoes, as her mother wouldn't let her wear even the slightest of heels on the street.  On her head was perched a barrette that matched the scarlet of her skirt and had a sliver feather charm pinned to the front.

He was much more normally dressed, in his school pants, mainly because his jeans were in the load of wash that Lily had just loaded up, and a t-shirt that was a hand-me down from Violet that was of course, violet and proclaimed "Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better," though word Better was almost worn off from where it had been tucked in.  Aunt Marge was wearing her jeans and a "Lake Region Dog Breeders Association" polo shirt, when Mrs. Creevey answered the door.

"Mrs. Creevey, I'm Marjorie Dursley, aunt to Bradley and his siblings, as well as a registered dog breeder and trainer, and I'm afraid I feel the need to come over to talk to you about the training of your son Dennis's dog Gnasher after I saw his behavior around Bradley," Aunt Margie said.

"Please come in, Missus Dursley, Bradley, and I assume that Georgina is tagging along as an example?" Mrs. Creevey asked.

"Miss, actually, I live for my dogs so I've never managed to find someone to marry.  Please call me Marge, everyone else does."

"Please call me Beverly," she replied. They quickly settled in the front parlor, with Margie seated between Bradley and Georgina on a couch, and Mrs. Creevey seated on a chair across from them.  "I have to admit that I have started to have a concern for the way Dennis and Gnasher have been behaving lately, but my husband Alfred says it's just them being a boy and his dog."

"I should say that it isn't," Marge replied. "You do have a fairly good example of the proper behavior in your eldest son Colin and his dog Ruff.  That boy has just the right temperament to match his dog.  I've never seen a pairing of a dog and his boy quite so fitting, though some training might be necessary to keep Ruff out of the flower gardens.  Back when Colin got Ruff a few years ago, he actually saw me in my yearly visit to the Dursley's and asked for advice.  Dennis hasn't asked me, but that may be my fault, not his.  

"I don't know where Dennis is getting his information on how to care for a dog, but I have seen several deficiencies.  If he continues in his current path, there is a good chance that Gnasher will end up having to be put to sleep under the most recent Dangerous Dogs Act."

"I suspect it's from his father," Mrs. Creevey said.  "He's never spoken about what happened to the dog he had growing up, and seems to hear no word against either of his sons' dogs.  Any idea on how I can correct this issue?"

"Oh, I think so," Marge said.  "Though we might have to take Gnasher away for obedience school.  We most certainly will have to have Dennis go through some training on how to handle a dog properly.  I believe the best corrective action will be to guide him on how to deal with a much less active dog, first, and then work back to Gnasher.  That is where Georgina and Bonnie come in."

Bradley watched as his aunt outlined exactly what would be happening to his rival and his dog, as Mrs. Creevey agreed with his aunt.  He might not have to ever run from Dennis again.

Harry had gotten a lot of letters since he had arrived at Hogwarts.  Much more than he'd ever received in his life. That is, if you didn't count the seventh birthday incident, which Harry didn't, because those as far as he was concerned were not really for him.  Plus, he blamed the whole incident on the idiot who mentioned that his birth was coming up in his campaign speech. There were three times that Harry had written to the Daily Prophet in his life.  The aftermath of that was the first. The idiot didn't get the post of Minister for Magic.

This unexpected letter was different, though.  It was from one of his father's friends, a friend that had been thought to have been part of the cause of his parents' deaths.  The fact that it had actually been an animangus rat that had ratted out his family's safe house had given him the giggles a few times.  Lily had admitted the same in her weekly letter.

It wasn't the first time he'd gotten a letter from one of his father's old friends. Remus Lupin regularly wrote letters as the werewolf did a lot of traveling.  (It had been a while since he'd stopped by Privet Drive to visit, though.  Harry would have to ask him to come visit over Christmas Break.) He'd never gotten one from his mother's old friends, though.

Harry leaned back in he comfortable chair in the first year common corridor, and turned the letter over.  It was sealed with wax with a coat of arms and the words "Toujours Pur."  Harry broke the seal and opened the letter.

Dear Harry,

I suppose I should begin this with an apology. I didn't deliver you to your aunt like I was supposed to.  Instead I handed you off to Hagrid, and went after the rat, never considering what revenge would cost me and you.  As your godfather, I should have been there for you as you grew up.  Though in my defense, I had no idea that Wormtail would frame me, and I'd be tossed in to Azkaban.

I ran into your Aunt Petunia and your sister Lily after my trial, along with your cousin Primrose. I was promptly informed that she expected that I'd write a letter immediately to you.  Unfortunately I was delayed a bit by being examined at Saint Mungo's.  Azkaban is not a place that you stay without being marked in someway, and it's going to take me a while to recover.   I did run into my grandfather, who apparently fell trying to remove my mother's portrait, but insisted on sharing the room that the Ministry is providing for my recovery to make sure I get the best of treatment.

I don't know exactly how much you know about me, or your parents, though I understand that Remus has been around, I guess you know a little.  Probably not much though, so I probably should start with an introduction.  

I'm Sirius Black, third of that name, current heir to the Lordship of the House of Black.  Given my well known rebellion against the pure blood politics of the house, my mother must be spinning in her grave. (You may have noticed the family motto on the seal.) I met your father, as well as Remus, on the Hogwarts Express, before our first year.  I was sorted with your father into Gryffindor, which caused no end of trouble, as I was expected to go to Slytherin like most of my house.  I had a little brother, Regulus6, who did go into Slytherin.  I don't know what happened to him.  

At Hogwarts, along with your father, I was known as quite the prankster, though with my grandfather beside me, I have to admit that I went too far several times.  I played beater for two seasons on the Quidditch team for Gryffindor, and a single one as chaser.  For the summer between my sixth and seventh year, I lived with James and his parents, Fleamont and Euphemia.

After I completed Hogwarts, along with your father, I was hired as an auror.  As I could not be removed from the roles without being convicted, and Azkaban is a posting for auror, I am apparently owned a great deal of overtime. I siriusly intend to collect on that.

It seems I'm due for some sort of treatment, so I'll end here.  Please write me back with any questions you may have.

Sirius Black III
Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black

Aunt Petunia had always taught Harry to write back, but as he re-read, no to be honest, looked at it without seeing a word again, Harry had no idea how he was going to reply.

"Black is Out," Severus Snape muttered as he sat down in the Hogwarts Staff Room.  He'd just gotten the special edition of the Daily Prophet and it was hard to avoid the headlines.

"No, it never be out.  Black is Classic," Septima Vector said, never looking up from where she was working on some sort of mathematical puzzle.

"Not classic Black, Sirius Black," Severus replied, debating if he should read more than the headlines.  

"Classic Black is a serious shade," Vector said, turning the piece of parchment she was working on ninety degrees.  "That has to be an imaginary number."

"Sirius Black is not imaginary," Severus replied, deciding that for the moment he was going to skip the front page in favor of the Quidditch Scores.   "And he is most certainly out.  No more Dementors for Black."

"I'll agree that Demented Forrest Black is out," Vector replied, turning the paper back ninety degrees. "That Black is not reliably dyed.  Okay, that's not imaginary."

"If only Black would have died outside of imagination," Severus remarked, his team had lost again.  Lately Tutshill's chasers had been only better than Chudley's.

"Given all the black you wear, I'd think you'd been glad that Black will never be out," Vector said, picking up her quill and marking a spot on the parchment.  "Just had to look at it a different angle."

"I am not going to look at Black being out a different angle," Severus replied, turning page as he held up the paper.  "There is no angle that makes Black look good."

"I think I can prove otherwise, but if you don't want to be convinced, there is nothing I can do about it." Vector concluded, putting the parchment in her satchel.  She looked up, and apparently  finally saw the front page of the Prophet.  "Oh Morgana!  Sirius Black found Innocent!"

"I hadn't noticed," Serverus dead panned. 

Chapter Text

It was October Thirtieth, a Wednesday, and Neville had just been informed that his Gran would be picking him up on Saturday Morning to visit his parents, on the tenth anniversary of the night that they were attacked.  Not that his parents would notice.  Neville hadn't ever seen a sign that his parents really knew who he was, not if he was being honest with himself.   They were trapped in their own minds.

It was Wednesday, and tomorrow was Halloween, the day that his friend and dormmate Harry's parents had died.  Harry knew he wouldn't get to visit his parents graves this year, and he'd said he was fine with that when asked, but Neville, well Neville thought that Harry celebrating Halloween with the rest of Hogwarts ... it didn't feel right.  It was as if they'd been forgotten, in exchange for hero worshiping a boy for surviving. 

Neville was a boy who survived.  He knew what that really meant.  He'd felt the glares of family and friends who with just their eyes asked why he'd survived instead of his parents, their accusations, unspoken yet heard loudly boring into his soul.  He knew what that meant, it only took them expressing it out loud once for him to know what that look would always mean.  He'd seen the sorrow in his Gran's eyes when thoughts of his father, her son, came forward.  There was nothing Neville could do about it.

He'd heard Harry's mumbling about everyone forgetting about his Mum.  Harry was right.  No one but him had been there and survived, but somehow, just somehow, it was Harry that was the hero, not his Mum.  No one saw but a toddler Harry his Mum standing there, begging to take her instead of him.  Oh, recent events might have shown exactly how much protection his mother's sacrifice had given Harry and his family.  

Neville had been in the Leaky Cauldron when Voldemort had been expelled from Professor Quirrel, leaving the man ashes.  He'd been in Diagon Alley when Lucius Malfoy's arm had caught on fire as Harry and his cousins had passed him.   He'd heard about more, including Ron's rat, which had turned out to be the Betrayer of Harry's family.  Lily Potter had passed on powerful protections, but the muggleborn witch wasn't celebrated.

"What troubles you, my son," came the voice of Hufflepuff's ghost, the Fat Friar, or more properly Father Clement.  Neville thought it was important to know the proper names.  He'd never call Sir Nicholas 'Nearly Headless Nick.'

"The way everyone seems to forget what tomorrow is for Harry, the day his parents died," Neville said.  "We're all gearing up to celebrate the great Hogwarts Halloween Feast, and everyone seems to be going on and on, expecting everyone to be there, asking Harry what his favorite Halloween treat is and everything.  You know, this is the first year he won't be able to visit his parents graves, Father Clement?"

"I am aware," Father Clement said.  "And with your help, I'd like to do something about it."

Sirius Black held out his arm and Lily Dursley moved to stand against him below it.  "I want Lily back in time for Dinner," Petunia Dursley had said.  He'd just to Privet Drive to introduce himself the day before.  Well reintroduce himself to Petunia.  He hadn't made great impression on Petunia, but compared to Remus, he'd done better at James and Lily's wedding.  Remus still wasn't talking about what he'd done to result in Petunia slapping him so hard that he'd had to be taken outside to be discreetly magically revived.

Petunia wasn't talking about it either. 

Finding out that that Lily was actually Lily and James's baby girl that had been transferred to Petunia's womb as part of the ritual had apparently caused Remus to do way too much research in Sirius's opinion.  When Sirius had mentioned it their evening meeting yesterday, Remus had informed him of the arthmancy of the spells, what would have happened if Petunia had already been pregnant (she hadn't been), and the effects Lily's presence had created on the protections around Privet Drive.  Sirius had just let Remus talk. After his time in Azkaban, hearing his friend's voice was a balm to his soul that he didn't want to interrupt.

Sirius was still recovering from his time in Azkaban and it had been several weeks, he didn't want to count how long, since he'd gotten out.  The ministry was paying for his care, and it had taken a couple weeks before he'd even been allowed to leave Saint Mungos for a brief visit to Gringgotts.  His first visit to the house he'd grown up in had been a disaster, but fortunately his grandfather had been alerted to his attempt at return.  Per his Grandfather's healer, Sirius's release had been the best thing for his health since his Grandmother's death. Arcturus Black had been a terror at the Ministry the whole month of October. 

Lily had asked not only to visit the graveyard but the cottage.  Sirius had checked to see if he was still keyed into the cottage's wards.  He was.  Peter's access had already been struck out.  It seemed that the reason they'd had to repair the wall was because after Voldermort's death, the wards had come back up and the betrayal that Prongs had noted verbally on the threshold of the cottage had taken effect, forcefully ejecting Wormtail out the wall, and across the Bristol Channel, only to land in Devon.  

Sirius was of the opinion that Prongs had underpowered it.  

They appeared in an alcove of the church, having to go through a pew to get to the center aisle and exit the church.  When they got to the aisle, Lily faced the altar briefly, bowed, and then did the sign of the cross before turning to exit the church.  Sirius matched her, not really knowing why. Once Lily reached the bottom of the three steps in front of the church, she looked back, and Sirius suddenly saw her expression of uncertainty. 

He quickly caught up to her and put his arm around her.  "Are you okay?" he asked.  The afternoon sun was flittering through the reduced golden orange leaves of the tree next to the church and caught Lily's red hair.  Sirius noticed that it wasn't quite the same shade as Lily Evans Potter's had been, the young Dursley as she was known's hair was more towards strawberry blond, but it was still a mix of strands of various colors that seemed fitting on this autumn day.

"I wish Harry was here," she said.  "It doesn't seem to be right to go here without him for the first time knowing that its my parents not aunt and uncle's graves."

"Maybe, but you're growing up, Lily," Sirius said, putting his arm around her as they began to walk to the graveyard's entrance.  "You're going to have to do quite a bit of things without Harry.  Remus tells me that you've slid well into the oldest sibling role since Harry and Dudley went away to school."

"Well, I knew that was coming," Lily said. "Harry and Dudley prepared me for months.  I only came here with Harry three times that I was old enough to remember.  Once with Mum, twice with Uncle Remus. Mum doesn't go on Halloween anymore."

Sirius directed Lily to her parents' graves with is hand on her shoulder, feeling her slight trembling.  He guided her back to the graves of his best friends, her parents.  His arm shifted to provide what he thought would convey some reassurance. Judging from way her shoulders straightened a bit, he figured that he'd been a bit successful at that, at least.  It didn't take long fore them to reach the gray tomb stone above their graves.

Sirius pulled out some red hyacinth from inside of his coat, and placed it on the lip of the grave.  Lily followed suit with her namesake flower.  She kneeled at the grave, and began to whisper to her late parents.  Sirius stood guard while she did so, spotting several others waiting in the graveyard for their turn.  He knew no one would bother Lily though.  If they did, he'd be there to prevent it.

Professor Severus Snape had never visited Lily Evans Potter's grave before.  It didn't seem right, even though he'd been the person to find her dead.  He had attended the Potter's funeral, at a distance, at a distance, only part of it due to him being questioned at the Ministry to the point that it only occasionally counted in his mind, and on her birthday every year he lit a candle in the chapel at Hogwarts.  This year, however, the votive candles had been moved.  Fortunately he discovered that before he went to the chapel before the Feast.

At breakfast, the Headmaster had announced that the votive candles had been placed at the front of the Great Hall, opposite the side door to allow a bit of a solemn part of the celebration. It had apparently come via Professor Spout and the Fat Friar.  Snape suspected that Potter may have been involved somewhere in the approval process.  

If anyone had told Snape that Potter was not a spoiled child back during the summer, before he realized that Petunia had raised him, and before he had seen exactly how Potter interacted with everyone, he wouldn't have believed them. Severus knew Petunia.  The idea that Petunia would let anyone have a big head was not something that was exactly believable to anyone who knew her as a child.  Not that he hadn't entertained the possibility.  The influence of James Potter on Lily's offspring, well Potter did look quite a bit like his father, but those eyes.  Oh, those eyes.  They were just like Lily's.

Harry Potter always met your eyes when he talked with you.  He didn't divert his gaze like some did. There was something about the boy, and at first he hadn't realized what it was.  Not for the first few weeks.  Then he'd encountered Potter talking to Draco, and suddenly it hit him.  Harry Potter might look like his father, but he was pure Lily when it came to everything else.  Well not entirely pure.  Lily had been the younger sister, and it was obvious that Harry functioned as the older sibling, and not just in his family.

Hufflepuff was the one house at Hogwarts that it was nearly always true that your Hogwarts House was like your family.  It occasionally happened with the other houses, and in Slytherin more than one would expect. One of the things that pretty much every head of house looked for when choosing prefects was who acted as the big brother of the house in the year.  If you had someone like that, they were your choice for Prefect.  Severus hadn't had that as much as he would have liked.  Older siblings did have a tenancy to become prefects and head boys, which Severus now understood the reasons as a Head of House and hadn't as a student.  

Still, there was that knee jerk reaction that had him seeing Harry Potter as his spoiled arrogant father. It was something he'd recently started talking to Father Clement about.  The Fat Friar was very helpful once you realized there was a problem.  Severus wasn't sure he would have realized he had that problem if it wasn't for just how much he'd seen that boy acting like good big brother. 

In any case, he'd gone to his quarters and picked up one of the votive candles he kept there, part of a bunch he'd bought a few years back, as it didn't set right for Severus to use the school supply in this case.  He actually had a free period right after breakfast, and the Headmaster had as usual cancelled classes after three for Halloween.

Severus was not sure why he didn't expect Harry Potter to be placing his own votive candles in the stand.  There were a pair of them, which he carefully lit and placed together.  Not in the front, not in the back, he was a little short for that, but a little more than halfway back in a spot just big enough for three or four candles to be added.  Severus ignored the pain in his dark mark as he approached Potter and the candles. The pain was just more penance for how he betrayed the prophecy to the Dark Lord and killed Lily.  If the mark caught fire like it had for Lucius Malfoy, then well, he'd let it burn.  The thought briefly crossed his mind that he might light the candle with it.

"Potter," Severus said briefly as a way to make sure that the boy was aware that he was there, as he came close enough to hear him muttering a prayer.

"... perpetual light shine upon them.  May their souls and all the souls of the departed ..."  Severus had only heard the prayer said in rote, but something about the boy's voice was different. It felt like he was really feeling the prayer, like it meant something to Potter "... rest in peace, Amen."

As Potter stepped back, Severus asked, "For your parents?" Potter nodded, as Severus placed his own votive.  "Appropriate." Then after a pause, during which their eyes locked.  "I am placing this one for your mother, as well.  Lily and I grew up in the same town."

"Aunt Petunia told me," Harry replied.  "I've only once gone to Cokeworth.  Usually I go to Godric's Hallow every Halloween to see my parent's grave, and the Cottage, but the candle will have to do, now, I guess."

There was something about Potter's gaze that caused Severus to make an offer that just flowed out of his mouth, almost like some things he'd said to Lily.  "As a Head of House at Hogwarts I am allowed to take students off grounds for such purposes as grave visits ... with appropriate permissions from your guardians, which I believe I can obtain from your Aunt Petunia, with out burning up."

"Sorry about that sir," Potter said.  "My cousins and I aren't sure how we're burning dark marks.  If you can thoug, I really would like to visit my parent's grave today."

"Then I shall ring your aunt up, and expect you in the Entrance Hall ready to visit at half past three," Severus said.  

Lily Dursley, or was it Potter, she was a little undecided on that.  She'd been informed that in the magical world, she was Lily Potter, to the point that she got letters that were mostly intended for her biological mother, but she'd grown up as Lily Dursley.  Today, she was really in the magical world, and today she was going to visit the house that she would have grown up in if wasn't for the Dark Lord that had killed her and Harry's parents.  She hadn't entered the house when Harry had visited it a year before.  

He'd been puzzled about a couple things, at the time.  It was a four bedroom cottage, with one bedroom on the first floor, that Lily had recently found out had been Sirius's.  She hadn't told Harry that yet.  One of the other things he'd been puzzled about was the fact that the changing table along with the mobile from the crib were in the room across the hall from his.  Knowing that she was coming along and that had been known at the time, Lily knew why they where there. 

She was looking forward to finding the clues about what her biological parents expected her to be when she got to that room.  But first, she needed to enter the front garden.  Lily had asked Sirius to let her take her time entering.  The front garden was actually some place that she'd spent quite a bit of time in.  Her mother had done some gardening to clean up the out of control plants back when Lily was five in a couple summer visits.  That's when the four painted cherubs had been placed in the front garden.  

Each of them had a little stone label in front of them.  There was James with his messy hair and golden framed glasses.  There was Lily with her flaming red hair.  Both of them sat framing a garden waterfall, looking down at the pond filled with water lilies.   In front of the pond were two baby cherubs, dipping their fingers in the water.  There was Harry, who looked up at his father meeting his father's mischievous grin with one of his own.   Then there was "Baby Potter" which Lily had been surprised was included with her strawberry blond hair curled, like it had been during her first year.  

Lily stepped through the gate.  There were only three people who currently could open the gate.  She'd been surprised the first time she'd been able to open it.  Harry and her mother had always done it before.  Dudley couldn't open it, no matter how hard he tried.  There was something about the protections that her siblings just didn't have.   Remus had told her that it was because she was a Potter and all Potters were keyed into it. 

Lily dipped her fingers into the pond and flung a bit of water at the Harry cherub.  That was tradition between her and her brother.  Then she bowed slightly at her parents before walking up to the cottage door.

Lily had never really gone into the cottage, unless you counted times when she was a baby or toddler.  That had always been something that was Harry's alone.  Now, though, she knew where she came from, and she wanted to see the place that she had been supposed to grow up in.  Her hand touched the handle of the door, and it opened with the gentlest of pulls.  She stepped through the threshold and felt a sudden warmth.  

The fire suddenly ignited as Lily took in the front parlor.  There was a sofa in a soft brown leather that looked quite comfortable, along with a rocking chair.  Beside the rocking chair was a knitting box with what looked like an unfinished hat on it, done in hunter green wool. There was a broken chair opposite the rocking chair, probably destroyed when Voldermort attacked.  An oval rug was between the seating arraignment, with what looked like a baby snigget floating above it.  Two very full book cases flanked the fireplace. An Auror's robe was hung from a peg on the wall, next to a door that Lily already knew went to Sirius's room.  An archway lead to the kitchen, but it was the oak treads of the slightly curved staircase that drew Lily's attention.

Up the stairs, Lily went, arriving at the upstairs hall, which had two immediate doors on both sides of the hallway and another one at the very end.  The one to her right was labeled Harry, and Lily didn't go into it.  Harry had left it open, and she could see the broken crib before which her mother had given her life. There was a shaft of sunlight that ended right in front of the crib.  Lily let a tear fall from her face.

Then Lily turned to the other door, which was labeled "Baby Girl."  Harry was right, a room had actually been made for her.  Lily had never had a room of her own, save her current use of Harry's use of the cupboard under he stairs, and some room when she was a baby before her sisters had come along.  What had her parents intended to start raising their baby girl with?  She opened the door.

The room was painted a soft buttery cream with enchanted snitches moving above waving grain.  There seemed to be a natural breeze in the room, despite the fact that the room's two windows facing East and South were closed.  The carpet was thick and deep green, to the point that Lily was tempted to slide off her sneakers and socks off to feel her toes on the carpet.  Then as she remembered her Mom saying that the cottage at Godric's Hallow was her and Harry's home, and she should make sure she treated it like that, not the museum that the Ministry of Magic had tried to make it.

The public could look at the outside, from the well beaten path up front.  They could vandalize the historical marker, and get whatever was coming to them for it, but the Cottage was Potter Cottage and this room — this room was Lily's.  She took off her shoes and socks and stepped into her room.  The carpet felt nice and soft, conforming to the bottoms of her feet.  She got the feeling that it wouldn't be easy for a toddler to fall much less fall and get hurt on it.

There was another rocking chair in the room, this one with a well worn quilt whose match she'd seen in her mother's room on her own rocking chair.  A dresser with a big mirror was along the North wall.  Under the large East window, there was a crib, obviously just assembled, judging from the screw driver and box next to it. The box proclaimed that the crib would grow with your child. To the East there was both the East window and an open door to a bathroom.  Judging from the way it was being lit, it was obviously shared with Harry's room.  Lily had no problem with that.  If there was one person in Lily's family that she'd be willing to share a private bathroom, something that wasn't a thing at the Dursley's, it was Harry.  Her little brothers were too messy and her little sisters were shower hogs. 

Lily looked down at the top of the dresser to find a piece of parchment headed, "Girl's names."  There were some names crossed out that she could read, others were covered by a quill.  Violet was crossed out with "P called it" Daisy and Dahlia were on the list with the same note.   Lily moved the quill, curious as to what her parents where considering.  Iris wasn't crossed out, Primrose was.  Euphemia, which Lily knew was her Potter grandmother's name, was also crossed out with a note in a different handwriting than the rest, "Same reason vetoed Fleamont" The same handwriting had also written down Lily.   There was also Calla, Holly (which had a question mark by it), Blossom, Peony, and Pansy.  Amaryllis was the last name on the list.  It looked like the list was expected to grow longer.

Lily put the quill in a better place before rolling up the parchment.  She'd have to show her mother this.  Then she turned to the crib, taking three steps to reach it.  The moment she touched it though, it changed.  It was no longer a crib, or even a toddler bed.  No, it was now a full size bed, complete with a pair of pillows, a thick emerald green quilt, and a set of golden silk sheets, turned down and ready for Lily to slide in and go to bed.  She was very tempted.  Instead, she spun around.  There was a pair of pictures on the same wall as the entry to her room.  One was an old picture of the Harpies Quidditch Team, and the other was of a young woman with flaming red hair, her eyes closed. 

"Mummy," the name escaped from Lily's mouth without realizing it, and the portrait's eyes opened.  

Severus let Potter go first before his parents grave before he knelt before Lily's grave.  He silently knelt before her grave and let himself cry for the first time since the night he found her dead.  He remembered that night holding Lily's dead body when he had discovered her dead, before he son's crib.  He pushed his feeling, letting his sorrow fully out for the first time in years.  Since the Ministry had kept him to the point that he'd only caught the last couple of sentences of the funeral, it had not felt right to let it all out before now.

He looked at Harry after letting his tears flow and dry up, and for just a moment he saw Harry as that toddler, the toddler that had somehow gotten out of the crib and reached out to wipe his tears.  His vision cleared, and there was an offered handkerchief before him. Severus took it, and wiped his eyes.  He took a deep breath and stood up. 

"Potter, I assume you would also like to visit the cottage," Severus said.  "I aware that you and the Dursley's have full access. "

"Yes, Professor," Potter said.  "Is it true that you were the one who discovered my parent's deaths, and that you liked my mum?"

"Yes," Severus said, his emotions still raw, as it would take time that night after the feast for him to rebuilt that which he usually hid behind.  "And always."

"Then, if you don't mind, I would like to see the cottage," Potter said.  "It's kind of part of the regular thing I usually do during the day of Halloween. I think Lily was coming with Sirius Black though."

"There may be an issue with that," Severus said as the pair walked out of the graveyard.   "Black and I do not get along."

"Leave that to me," Potter said as they reached the gate to the cottage.  

The gate opened easily as Potter pushed it, and they walked into the garden.  Potter dipped his fingers in the water feature to the right of the path and flipped some water towards a female cherub.  Then he opened the door.  Severus had not looked at it in detail at the time, but now, he did.

There was a sofa in a soft brown leather that looked quite comfortable, along with a rocking chair.  Beside the rocking chair was a knitting box with what looked like an unfinished hat on it, done in hunter green wool.  He'd seen Lily starting that project. There was another chair opposite the rocking chair, that looked like it had recently been repaired.  That deep green leather was most certainly a James Potter choice.  

An oval rug was between the seating arraignment, with what looked like a baby snigget floating above it.  Severus was well aware of Harry's quidditch talents.  If it wasn't for the presence of Cedric Diggory, he was sure that the boy would have already been placed on the Quidditch Team.  If he'd been sorted to Gryffindor, which still hadn't found a seeker, to replace the emergency Weasley, it would have been certain.  Minerva still hadn't lived down the losses to Slytherin last school year. Two very full book cases flanked the fireplace. An Auror's robe was hung from a peg on the wall, next to a door that another room.  An archway lead to the kitchen.  He was certain that Lily had spent a lot of time making this cozy place that made you feel at home and forget all your pains.

That door next to the auror's robe opened revealing Sirius Black.

"Sevil ..."

"No, Mister Black," Potter interrupted before the insult could be fully delivered.  "Professor Snape offered to bring me here so I wouldn't miss my yearly visit, and maybe tell me how he found me.  I will not let this time of remembrance be sullied by school yard rivalries."

"Tell him Harry," came a young girl's voice from the stairs. Severus looked up to find a girl who was the spitting image of his childhood friend hopping down a couple stairs.  "No fights on Halloween unless it's over chocolate."

"Professor, my sister Lily," Harry said, his glare focused on Black.  "Lily, this is Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin, and Potions Master, the one who Aunt Petunia always said was Mum's best friend through most of Hogwarts, and the wizard who found our parents dead after that Pettigrew betrayed them."

"Oh, the one with regrets," Lily replied, taking a couple more steps down.  The pain in Severus's dark mark increased.  "You know letters addressed to Lily Potter come me now, have for the last three years, since I was told that I was conceived in Mum's womb before being transferred to on Mum's death and born out of Aunt Petunia's."

"Wish they'd told me about you then," Harry muttered.  Lily shot her big brother a glare, before focusing back on Severus.

"I read what you wrote about Mum, your regrets, your attempts to break free, the risks you took ..." Lily admitted.  Severus had never meant for those letters to really be read.  They'd been written in his lowest moments, when he let loose his emotion.  

"You don't believe you deserve forgiveness, though." 

 Severus didn't believe he did.  Her had betrayed his friend, leaving her children orphans.   He'd barely been able to do what was required of him upon finding Lily and her husband's dead bodies, and afterwards, he'd spent days drowning his sorrow in wizarding pubs around the British Isles.  The pain spiked again, but somehow a bit differently.  He bared his arm revealing the smoldering dark mark.  "How could I, it marks my very soul?"

"You have regret, and feel guilt.  You wish you could turn back time," Lily said, now right in front of Severus as the mark started to burn.  "And if you believed you did, you wouldn't deserve forgiveness."

"And you still love our Mum," Harry said, stepping around to be at his sister's side.

The word escaped Severus's mouth again, "Always."  He was sure there was nothing that could be done, that the pain in the mark and his heart would not go away.  He would die with that word on his lips, "Always."

He felt a touch on his arm, first one, then another, right below the flaming mark, and he could suddenly smell sulphur in the air.  He felt the pain spike again, and then it was gone, replaced with a soothing warmth.  It felt like he'd just come in from the cold and sat down by a roaring winter fire in the Slytherin Common Room, something that he'd spent a lot of time doing in his first few years of Hogwarts.

"Always," Lily said, looking right into his eyes.  

It was as if, for just a moment, he was looking into the eyes of his best friend, before Hogwarts, before everything had gone wrong.  He remembered Lily Evan's eyes.  Then Severus looked down at his arm, where the dark mark had been causing him pain every time he'd encountered Harry Potter at Hogwarts.  Lily's hand was closed right over top of it, and Harry's right above it.

They let go, revealing bare skin.  The Dark Mark was gone.

Chapter Text

Harry Potter sat back down at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast, having just returned from Godric's Hallow.  He and his friends, not just those in Hufflepuff, had managed to get seats near the head table.  There were his dorm mates, of course, but there was also Hermione Granger with her every present book with it's knitted blue and bronze bookmarks sticking out of several places.  She'd been dragged over to the table by Blaise Zabini a few minutes ago.  Harry looked at Blaise.

"I told her she could read until the Headmaster opened the feast," Blaise said.  "She thought she had plenty of time to finish the boook."

Harry took one look at the thick book that Hermione was reading, just as she marked another page about two fifths of the way through with her seemingly endless supply of knit bookmarks. "Not happening," Harry said.  "Hey Dean, paper and pastels?  Are we going to have to take those away from you along with Hermione's book later?"

"There is no way I'm going to spend my first Hogwarts Halloween feast sketching," Dean said.  "I just have to make sure the votive sketches I made are flat and organized and that's going to only take a couple minutes more.  I hate the binding on this sketch book.  It does hold the sheets well enough.  Hey Hannah, did you find Susan?"

"Yeah, she'll be here in a moment," Hannah said as she sat down beside her fellow Gryffindor.  "She kind of lost it after she put the votive candles for her parents and uncle down a bit ago.  Faye's with her.  She brought a new skirt for her, and Seamus Finnigan you will not mention how that happened or anything that happened after it."

"You heard her," Dean said.  "She will post that picture again if you do."

"What picture," Harry had to ask.

"Just an embarrassing one that no one should see," Seamus said.  "Don't tell them about it, Dean"

"Now he has to," Draco said sitting down.  "I don't know what you did to my godfather, Harry, but I have never seen the Professor smile like he is right now, and that scarf ... where did he get that scarf?"

Harry looked over to discover that Professor Snape had entered.  He was still wearing his sister Lily's green and gold scarf.  "Lily and I may have somehow removed his Dark Mark ... I think it was more Lily and his regret.  She's apparently been getting letters for the last three years that were addressed to our mum, without telling me, in fact I didn't even know she was my sister at that point, since magically she's Lily Potter not Dursley. Professor Snape has been writing letters to Mum and thinking they went no where. Anyway, his voice was a bit horse after everything, and that's Lily's scarf."

"You removed a Dark Mark," Hermione said, looking up from her book.  "That's supposed to be impossible."

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione," Ron said from his seat next to her, placing his left arm around her.  "How many times have we told you, magic doesn't believe in the impossible."  With his right, he slid an orange bookmark into her book and shut it. 

"There are Rules For Magic," Hermione replied turning to face Ron but not removing his arm.  You could hear the capital letters in her voice. "Some things can't be done with magic."

"Well, really?" Ron said, jolly.   "Like surviving being hit a particular death curse?  You know the one."

"Oh, no, not here, not another argument about logic and magic," Harry said. This was not the first time, and Harry was sure it wouldn't be the last time, the two had started a similar argument. "This is a feast, will feast, not get involved in that again.  I am eternally grateful that the Sorting Hat didn't put you two in the same house."

"Oh they'll end up in the same house, some day," Faye said, Susan arriving behind her.  "I mean, just look at them.  They can't resist each other.  Fated mates, I say."

"We are not!"  Ron and Hermione said in unison.  

"Harry," Draco said softly, having moved around from where he'd initially sat down.  "Do you think, you know, my..."  He trailed off, as if all the courage he had had disappeared in bringing up his father and his dark mark.

"I don't know, Draco.  I'm not sure how.  Maybe."

Severus Snape took a look around his parlor in his Hogwarts quarters.  It was Saturday, the second of November, the first Saturday in November, which meant it was time for his meeting with the Lord Black about the Black Scholarships.  It was a regular meeting, he'd last met Lord Arcturus the day before he died to discuss the progress of the academic scholarships.  The generally occurred the Saturdays after the mid point of a term or end of term. It was something that he'd learned to enjoy as Head of Slytherin. 

He'd always had the meeting in the parlor.  Professor Slughorn had told him was the best place to do it.  It needed to be a comfortable discussion.  Severus was not sure how comfortable this discussion was going to be as he charmed the black pillows on his leather couch to yellow.  Draco had suggested it when his godson had come to talk.  The boy was really worried about his father, whose death mark burning had recently turned septic, sending Lucius back to Saint Mungos.  The boy had so much hope when he'd seen the clear skin where Severus's mark had been.

Severus returned some long hidden childhood photos to the end tables. He smiled as he looked at the picture of him and Lily on the tire swing in her back yard, laughing as Petunia poured a bucket of water on them from above.  He'd have to visit Petunia.  There was some good times that had been long forgotten in his regrets that deserved to be talked about in their childhood.

He'd been apprehensive about this meeting since he'd heard that Sirius Black had been cleared and was now installed as Lord Black.   When they'd met on Halloween at Godric's Hallow there had been a great tension between them, only held back by the presence of the Potter children.  Black had admitted then that he was under the care of a mind healer at the moment, and would be for quite some time. Severus had held back his cutting response, doing his best to keep his attention on Harry Potter and his sister Lily.

He hadn't had much time with Lily yet, but already Severus had decided that the little girl was much like her mother and namesake.  When she's smiled at him after his dark mark had been removed, it reminded him so much of Lily.  He had a bit of regrets later that night when it finally sunk in that the nine-year-old has received his drunken rumblings of regret letters for the last three years. 

Severus bent down and adjusted the bouquet of resurrection lilies.  He'd asked the house elves for some lilies, but had not expected that they'd put the red flower there.  Right before he'd departed for Hogwarts, he'd reminded Black in his best professor don't forget about your assignments voice about today's meeting advising that he better be well prepared, and on time.

The chimes rang for top of the hour, mixing with the music of his door chimes that informed him of Black had arrived.  Severus stood and strode to the door, his black professional robes, immaculate.  It it may have been Sirius Black that he was greeting, and there were most certainly things between the two would not just wash away, but he was a professor of Hogwarts, these were his students, and he was going to do his best for his students, even if Black was stuck in the same childish way he'd been back when they'd been school boy rivals.

Severus opened the door to discover Sirius Black dressed not in the leather jacket that he'd worn on Halloween.   That jacket was not fitting for the Black Lord.  He was wearing Arcturus's robes.  "I know they don't fit," Black said.  "That damned house elf my mother left behind insisted and hid everything else.  It was this or naked, and I don't think anyone would find me arriving at Hogwarts naked appropriate."

Severus suppressed a smile as he replied dryly, "No it would certainly not be appropriate, Mister Black." He stepped back to allow Black to enter. "You are no longer a toddler, nor is this your house."

"You have really got that professional reply down, Snape," Black replied.  "Lily always said you were going to become one, but I never could see it.  Harry says good things about your teaching though, and it's been a long time, so I'm trying to follow my mind healer's advice to take everything as if it's a fresh experience, to see it in new eyes.  It's a work in progress, though.  I've only been out for four weeks, after all."

"I see," Severus said, gesturing to the sofa.  "Your grandfather and I usually handled this over a glass of black Irish whiskey."

"I'm not allowed whiskey at the moment," Black said, glancing around the room. "You've got a better parlor than Grimauld Place."

"Well, it is a grim old place," Severus said.  "I took these quarters the year I overlapped with Professor Slughorn.  They were originally guest quarters.  I never moved to his because these are actually closer to the Slytherin Common Room.  Take a seat."

Sirius took a seat at one end, adjusting the pillow behind him.  "I took a look at what my grandfather had written down about the current scholars.  He had some high hopes for them, though personally a couple worry me.  I see that eleven of the thirteen slots are filled currently"

"I have to share your concern.  There is a distinct lack of understanding of the privilege of having a Black Scholarship to Hogwarts.  I was one from my third year on."

"I didn't know.  Which slot?"

The slots in the scholarships were all named after stars, and since most Blacks were named after stars it wasn't surprising that there was overlap between scholarships and members.  Severus had been cursing his scholarship slot name since he got it.  "Sirius."

"No, what slot did you have. I really want to know," Black said.  Severus just stayed silent.  "Oh. That had to have been ... it really is a good thing that grandfather never shared the scholars names with Regulas and me.  There is no way either of us would have let that go."  Severus just raised a eyebrow in response.   "Anyway, I think I want to start with what had been my Grandfather's personal choice, in the slot that shared his name.  I really don't know why he chose Marcus Flint."

"I think it was more for the boy's Quidditch talent than anything else," Severus said.  "And I'm beginning to regret appointing him as captain of Slytherin's team.  I used to see so much joy in that boy.  Do you remember Edwin Marks?  The Hufflepuff Seeker in our fourth and fifth year?"

"Oh yes. Always smiling as he chased down that snitch," Black smiled.  "Remember when someone set loose all those snitches in the grand staircase and he volunteered to collect them?"

"Yes.  Well Flint was like Marks until this year," Severus said as tea suddenly appeared on the coffee table.  "Tea?" he asked as he picked up his own cup.

"Probably for the best," Sirius said, picking up his own cup.  "Just the right amount of sugar."

"The house elves remember," Severus said.  "You might actually be able to get through with him, his Quidditch obsession.  He has developed a bit of 'you don't understand the importance of Quidditch" and since I never played."

"Unless you count that pickup game with you and Lily as beaters in our third year," Sirius said.  "I really should have complimented you on your bludger hits on James.  Couldn't at the time, for well reasons, but you two and especially you totally wrecked James and there was nothing I could do about it with the way you managed to control both bludgers.  I think I can talk to Flint."

Severus nodded.  "Now, Regula Eddincot, the Canopus Scholar. A rare case of one who has had scholarship since first year, not certain why. I was just told after her sorting that she had the scholarship.  Very good academics, especially transfiguration.  Could use some help in herblogy.  Has tried to get on the Quidditch team the last few years. I'm probably going to put her as a prefect next year."

"I'm going to need to meet with her, but not for scholarship reasons," Sirius said.  "Scholarship wise, I don't think I need to worry about her, but at this point of her education I want to make sure she's on track for her personal goals as a Black."

"I'm not sure why you'd need to meet with her outside of scholarship reasons," Severus said, puzzled, and not exactly he could allow it, though Regula was a very rare muggleborn in Slytherin, and the scholarship made Black her magical guardian.

"Did you notice her home address," Sirius asked.  

"Number Eight Grimauld Place ... oh," Severus said putting things together.  "Yours or Regulus?"

"Regulus," Sirius said.  "I didn't know until I read Grandfather's scholarship notes.  Apparently Reggie didn't think wizards could get muggle girls pregnant, though her mother is actually a squib from one of the Tatting Sisters.  Yes those sisters. There is limits to what even Blacks will do for purebloods.  That being said, it's better that some scandals stay in the past."

"In that I have to agree," Severus said.  "Any idea how she ended up on Grimauld Place?"

"The Malkins took her in after she was thrown out at age ten, they own seven and eight," Sirius said.  "I need to talk to her as my niece, preferably before Yule."

"I'll see about arranging it, Gretel Goyle, Vega Scholar," Severus said.  "Middle of the road, does her best.  I'm actually surprised she got five OWLs.  She won't get more than two NEWTs."

"Grandfather agreed about that," Sirius said.  "I know the Goyles, met Gretel when she was five, I think.  Nice girl, and she'll do her best.  I think she's got a betrothal contract but I don't know with who."

"Edelweiss Smith, twice her age, and she's pretty much resigned to it," Severus said.  "I wish I could do more about it, but she's getting married over Yule and will probably return pregnant."

"That's one good thing about the scholarship, we keep them in school," Sirius said.  "Her father is the fourth Gregory?" Severus nodded.  "I'll try something.  Amelda Rowle, Procyon scholar, sixth year, widow?"

"Her father matched her up with old Cantankerous Nott, who insisted on a wedding, his ninth, before her OWL year," Severus replied.  "He died on the wedding night, and Arcturus gave her a scholarship last year."

Severus watched as Sirius paged through the papers he had.  "And apparently a cottage for life, with a house elf for her and Nott's baby, which the Nott family is not acknowledging.  Twelve OWLs!"

"Genius in both charms and potions," Severus said.  "Overly quiet, but is dating Robert Tate, a prefect in Hufflepuff.  Baby Amanda is just starting to crawl around the Common Room."

"I can see why my father called the program the save the witches from the wizards scholarships," Sirius said.

"A bit," Severus said.  "I've always tired to have a couple scholarships open for those cases during the year.   Minerva has been making things a bit better for girls caught like Smith and Rowle.  It's only been a couple years since the girls have been allowed to bring their babies into the common rooms to study and socialize.  The Governors used to push for the witches like them to be housed separately and sometimes expelled after they got pregnant.  Minerva and Dowager Longbottom have had quite a bit of success over the last few years.   I think it's actually worked to reduce the in Hogwarts pregnancies.  There is nothing like a crying baby to keep young wizards in their pants."

"Agreed. I'm not seeing any issue with Jacob Moore, the Rigel Scholar, save some notes about lack of enthusiasm about transfiguration," Severus nodded at Sirius's statement.  "Horace Green, the Betelgeuse Scholar, charms help.  Doris Castel, the Archernar Scholar, I see a note about finances outside of the scholarship."

"Actually, since I wrote that note to your grandfather, that family has gotten quite a bit worse off," Severus said.  "I'm actually renting at a very low rate my house in Cokeworth to Doris's mother and siblings after that dunderhead Faust blew up his father's potion's business.  Cassandra, she was a Burke then, was the Procyon Scholar when we were at Hogwarts.  I'd say that she was the third best in potions at the time, and I expect her to get on her feet quickly again, but it happened at just the wrong time."

"Rival for you and Lily, or just the next best?" Sirius asked.  

"Rival.  I'd trust her with any potion you want made," Severus noted as he paged pass the ones that Sirius has passed by quickly, not unexpectedly.  His grandfather would do the same, but usually not the same ones each time.  "Nicholas Green, the Capella Scholar, third year, I am trying to find that boy someone to bring him out of his shell.  If you have any ideas, please."

"Unfortunately not. Krystal Kirk, Altair Scholar, fifth year, is she the one who got caught ..." Sirius began.

"Having transfigured certain male only parts of the castle's walls into clear crystal, yes," Severus said.  "You talked with Fred and George Weasley?"

"Had to.  They had some old marauder tools in their possession," Sirius said.  "They may still have some, but I got back some particular ones that they'd obtained from the Marauder file with Flitch.  I do hope you didn't go too bad with Miss Kirk."

"Miss Kirk was handled appropriately, given that it was an appropriate proportional response to previous actions," Severus said with a smile.  He'd quite admired the charm work, not just for the successful implementation of some rather difficult charms against a resistive structure.  Normally it would be some fifth year boy who tried what she had, and not as vengeance, for peepholes in theirs.  

"Now those are words I would have never heard from you when we were in class together," Sirius said.  "I have four open scholarships.  Any candidates to review."

"Unfortunately, the scholarships were seen as basically dead with the existing ones administered until you were freed," Severus said.  "I'm afraid I didn't think about the effect on new scholarships your release would have until Halloween when I encountered you.  I regret that I am currently unprepared to recommend any Slytherins for scholars at this time."

"Or those related to the Black family in other houses," Sirius added.  "I was reminded of that this morning when I brought Andromeda Tonks nee Black and her daughter back into the family.  She was apparently the last Sirius Scholar.  She asked me to pass along her thanks for the extra tutoring in Potions after she completed her NEWTs for her Auror entrance exam."

"I am not sure that I will class Miss Tonks as a serious scholar, however I do admit that she does not fall among the dunderheads I usually teach," Severus said.

"If you can find at least a couple possible new scholars by the end of November, I'd like to have them in place by the Yule luncheon that I intend to revive for the scholars," Sirius replied.  "If you don't mind, I'd like to visit a few of the scholars.  Don't worry about me finding where they currently are.  I have my ways."

"You always did," Severus said, standing.  Sirius stood as well.

"Oh, young Lily gave me this," Sirius said, pulling an envelope out and handing it to him.  "She said letters like yours were the type she felt she needed to respond to, even though they were directed at her mother."

Severus took the letter then escorted Sirius out of his quarters, having no idea when he'd have the courage to open and read it.

Ernie Macmillan was from a long line of Hufflepuffs.  In fact some accused his family of being Hufflepuff.  There was no actual connection, though.  The MacMillan family tree was completely documented for the last twelve hundred years, and they were fairly certain that none of the families that had married in to the family were from the line of Helga Hufflepuff.  He had expected to be the Hufflepuff in his year, much like his alcove mate Draco had expected to be the Slytherin in his year.

That was before sorting went in unexpected ways, and Ernie discovered just how much Harry, the youngest in the dorm, slid into the big brother Hufflepuff role.  That didn't mean that Ernie didn't get to be a Hufflepuff, just that Harry was better at it due to long experience with a big family. Ernie was an only child, though not for lack of trying on his parents part. His particular year had a lot of only children, but Ernie did have three younger cousins who lived the same cottage in the highlands, since his two uncles died in that Denmark place. 

So Ernie wasn't totally out of everything when he entered the alcove that he shared with Draco.  The two's beds were physically the same, pillows, thick comforter, with the bed fit sideways into the nitch in the wall, but that's where it ended.  Ernie's was pure Hufflepuff, black and yellow patterned.  Draco's on the other-hand was befitting where he had hoped to be sorted with silver and green bedding, one pillow being green and the other green, silver, and brown striped, obviously not from Hogwarts.   

When Ernie slipped through the grated gate of the alcove, he heard the slight sounds of sniffles from Draco's bed.  He was curled up with that odd pillow facing the wall. Ernie knew that Draco had gotten a letter from his mother that morning and Draco had missed two classes as well as lunch. As he approached Draco's bed he noticed that the green silk pillow had tear stains on it.  Draco's usually perfectly coiffed hair was a mess.

"Draco, you missed lunch so I brought you something," Ernie said softly.

"Not hungry," Draco said even as his stomach sounded otherwise.  

"Okay," Ernie said.  "I'll put it on top of your trunk."  He matched action to words, before turning back to Draco.  "Bad news?"

"The worst," Draco said, still facing the wall, but no longer hugging his pillow so tightly.  There was near silence in the room, the only sound coming from Ernie's breaths and Draco's soft sobs.  Ernie closed the grate, shutting off the sound from the rest of their dorm mates.  Ernie sat down on the foot of Draco's bed and waited.  "Mum says Father's going to die."

Draco shifted so he was no longer curled up with his pillow but sitting up against the corner formed by the head of his bed and the wall, the draped canopy in green silk pushed against the wall. It was obvious that he's been crying for quite some time. Ernie didn't move from his place at the foot of the bed, but did pull Draco's trunk so it was beside the bed now, the plate of sandwitches that he'd obtained along with the bottle of butter beer that the Gabbies had pressed into his hands after he'd offered to see how Draco was doing now within Draco's reach.

"I thought he was finally getting better until a couple days ago," Draco said.  "I thought the burns were finally healing.  But ... But ... he wanted revenge. Mum tried to stop him, convince him not to, but he obsessed over it."  His breath got a shorter.  "He tried to figure out where Harry's family.  He heard they were in the Auror pen, and got burned again when they left.   He went to the Black trial, and sat behind the Dursleys, unable to move and having it burn again.  And ...  And ... " Draco trailed off. 

Ernie moved closer to Draco, and took his hand.  "It's okay, Draco.  Is saying it helping?"

"A little," Draco said, squaring his shoulders.  He took a cloth from his robe and blew his nose.  "Father found Augustus Rookwood, the unspeakable death eater.  He'd apparently found the street where the Dursleys live.  No one seems to know what he planned, all Mum knows is that Father was found, his body burning by a old witch and a young girl on the street."

"The witch brought Father to Saint Mungo's, but he's dying, and mum says that the healers don't think he'll recover."

Suddenly Ernie found Draco in his arms.  "I don't want my Dad to die!"   He held his alcove mate close, letting Draco draw strength from the touch.  

He didn't know how much time passed, but they almost missed Potions. They arrived late, sliding into the desk they shared, ten minutes late.  Ernie thought it was strange that Professor Snape did not take points, in fact he didn't even say anything. He just put a single hand on Draco's shoulder.  Draco looked up, smiled slightly.  Then Professor Snape returned to his lecture.

Somehow the afternoon of Guy Fawkes Sirius Black found himself running down toward Privet Drive in his Padfoot form.  It was a Tuesday, and he'd promised to visit to talk to Lily about her biological father, like he had with Harry at Hogwarts.  He had chosen to take an old public floo to the neighborhood, rather than any other method, as his recovery from Azkaban had made that the best method of travel for him.  The floo was at the former Little Ravel Halt, a no longer in service station on the Whinging Line, and Sirius had decided to run as a dog through the Laughing Manor Estate on the public path, taking a turn off it to head down and around the pond that the children of Privet Drive used.

No one was swimming in it.  Not in November, but sitting on a log next to was Primrose Dursley.  The four, almost five-year-old, girl had removed her shoes and was dangling her feet into the water.  She seemed to be staring out at nothing in particular.  Her natural blond hair had changed to match her older sister/cousin Lily's, something that Petunia said was an accidental magic that Primrose has come to control.  Primrose was trying to convince Lily to let her keep her hair red.

As Sirius got closer, he could tell that the girl had been crying, and hadn't been sleeping.  He slid up to her and under her right arm, suspecting that the girl needed some quiet comfort and that his grim form might just do it.  Her arm pulled him closer, almost into her lap, but his form too big to fit.  Primrose began petting him, her hands running though his fur, and her head found a place against him.  

Gradually the girl relaxed.  Her posture moving from a stiff straight gazing into the distance to a loose, even limp hug of Padfoot.  Sirius let her relax, to fall asleep against him.  He let her sleep for a good five minutes against him, before regretfully transforming back to human and picking her up. He summoned her shoes and socks wandlessly, before heading to Privet Drive.

Sirius had barely stepped onto the pavement when Lily spotted him and ran up.  She looked like she was going to shout, then stopped herself and came closer before whispering barely loud enough for Sirius to hear over the soft noises of the cul-de-sac after everyone had gotten home from school.  "Is she asleep?  Mum sent me looking for her when she realized that she hadn't seen her for a while."

"Yes," Sirius said softly.  "I found her sitting next to the pond.  She fell asleep petting me as Padfoot."

Lily nodded.  "She hasn't been able to get to sleep since she found that Death Eater Malfoy nearly burned to death in front of the Matthew's house on the corner. Mrs. Gallegher found her standing from his still burning body."  Lily's voice was soft and quiet, a tone that he'd heard her namesake use when she discussed losses to You-Know-Who.  "I don't blame her.  I've had a few nightmares about that Professor in the Leaky Cauldron, myself.  Seeing a burning man trying to say something to you and the flame goes higher when you get closer."  Lily shuddered at the statement. 

Sirius shifted Primrose in his arm slightly, just as they reached Number Four.  He was glad that the construction workers had left for the day.  The Dursley's were raising the roof on their garage in order to fit a couple more rooms for their large family, and hoped to be done by February. According to Petunia if it went well there were others on the street who planned on doing the same thing.  It wasn't anything like putting a new room in would have been done at where he'd grown up, being quite loud and taking way too long, which was why he was glad they'd left for the day already when he carried Primrose into the house.

"You found her," Petunia said waddling towards the door.  Petunia was nearly six months pregnant, due on Valentine's Day, and was already quite rotund from it, not that Sirius would say that to the woman.  He had learned better when Lily was pregnant with Harry.  Her voice dropped.  "And she's finally sleeping.  Can you take her up to her room? The door says Iris and Primrose."

"No problem," Sirius replied with a whisper. He carefully carried the little girl up the stairs, Lily following them.  Lily passed them when he reached the top of the stairs, and had the door open and bed covers turned down by the time Sirius reached them.  Sirius put her on the bed, and turned away as Lily pulled Primrose's jeans off and put the covers over her.  He spotted a large stuffed bear on the dresser, and picked it up.  He slid it into Primrose's arms.  The girl pulled it close and buried her face against it's head.

"I have to help Violet with her homework," Lily whispered.  "Will you stay with Primrose for a while."

Sirius nodded and sat down on the other bed, pulling out some information on some scholarship candidates to read as Lily quietly left the room.  He stayed there for a half an hour before Primrose stirred and opened her eyes.

"Where — there was a dog — how did I get," she mumbled.  Sirius put down the paperwork and turned back into Padfoot, moving up next to Primrose's bed.  "Oh, so that's Padfoot."

Sirius changed back.  "You weren't here when I showed my form a couple days ago?" Sirius asked.

"Maybe.  I think I was at Gwen's," Primrose said, tilting her head and frowning.  "Yeah, that was before the time I found ..."  Primrose looked like she was going to cry again, before taking a deep breath.

"Need to hug Padfoot again?" Sirius asked.  "My grim form is at your service."

"Don't think so," Primrose said.  "But can I ride you like Noel says he did?"

"Let's go out in your back garden and we'll have some fun running around until you're called in to eat," Sirius said.  He watched the little girl's face brighten into a smile.

"Okay," Primrose said, now smiling widely.  "But we can't run in the house.  Mum says it isn't safe."

Sirius resolved that he was going to make sure that Primrose keep that smile as much as possible.

Chapter Text

Ron Weasley had waited until he returned to the Hufflepuff First Year dorms to open his letter from his sister.  After her letters to Fred and George had literally covered their faces with tart filling when they opened them in the Great Hall last week, he wasn't going to take a chance that she was going to do the same to him.  So he'd gone back to his bed, removed his jumper and shirt and moved to the study table.

The alcove that Ron shared with Sean was the one next to the girl's one, and he could hear giggling coming from their cracked open door.  Susan and Faye's alcove door was in solid mode at the moment unlike the boys' doors which were all not only open but were in grill mode.  The boys rarely found need to turn their solid.  It wasn't like the silencing charm was any less effective when they were closed.   

The girls end of the dorm was the end with the study table, which all ten of them could sit around if needed.  At the boys end of the dorm there were some rather comfortable couches and an open area where there was often dances to various pieces that Roger played. Sometimes others would join Roger, who was now part of the Hufflepuff string quartet.  Ron had found out in a letter from his sister that Harry played the flute.  Apparently Primrose hadn't been able to go to sleep until someone had found an old recording of him playing "Moon River."  Harry claimed it was the only piece he was good at.  A duet with Roger followed.   It wasn't a bad piece. 

As Ron put the letter on the table, the door to the girls toilets across from his alcove opened up revealing Hermione Granger. The Ravenclaw girl who he'd shared a compartment with had become a recent visit to Hufflepuff.  Unlike other houses, Hufflepuff had quite an number of visitors from other houses, even Slytherin.  Ron wasn't quite sure how he had ended up friends with the studious girl.  It might have been the homework planner she'd gotten for him that had become his savior in getting assignments done in time, though if Ron was perfectly honest, he probably wouldn't have even brought up his problems with keeping track of when things were due if he hadn't been already studying with her.

"Shirtless, Ron?" Hermione said.  "You actually think that Ginny plans on pranking you by mail as well as Fred and George?"

"Hey, it's my dorm room, I'm only required to have at least my trousers on when I leave my alcove or the boys bath," Ron said. "And why wouldn't I be worried about Ginny pranking me by mail.  She's gotten Fred, George, and Percy if you'll recall.   Why wouldn't she go for me too?"

"And do you know why Percy got pranked?" Hermione asked.  "You did say that Fred and George were targeted because your sister believed that revenge was best served cold and ... sticky, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, and you can't say that my older twin brothers were expecting that," Ron said.  "I think Percy got the cream pie in his face because he didn't write the whole first two months that we left her at home alone with Mum."

"And how often do you write to Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"I send her a letter every Sunday Evening and Thursday Afternoon after History of Magic," Ron replied, still nerviously looking at his sister's letter.  It was in that same strange lined paper that she'd switched to since she met Lily Dursley.  "Sometimes I do a third one on Tuesday if something happened."

"Do not remind me of Binns," Hermione huffed.  "I can't believe that I had to bring my alarm clock to class so I would wake up in time for dinner.   Do you think you broke any other promises to her, like Percy did to write home to her?"

"I don't think so," Ron thought, his brows lowering and coming together in thought, "But even since Percy said that he hoped I hadn't forgotten something that Ginny wanted me to do, I've been racking my brain and trying to remember anything that I might have promised her and not done, but I can't think of anything.  I even got Harry to send her a signed picture."

"I think you're safe Ron," Hermione said. "If you'll excuse me, Faye is trying to explain all the Dunbar families and I'm hoping she's done giggling about the Rutland Dunbars and that ridiculous hidden lands they own."

Ron's eyes followed Hermione until she entered the alcove, shutting the door tightly behind her.  Then he opened the letter from Ginny, letting a breath of relief out as nothing happened.  Apparently she'd attended Primrose Dursley's fifth birthday party, mainly because Lily had begged to have someone else her age in the house.  Violet and Iris had apparently found somewhere else to be when Number Four Privet Drive had been invaded by four and five year olds from around Little Whinging.   There was apparently some Greater Whinging going on at said party, but Mrs. Dursley's famous strawberry cake, which was Primrose's favorite had been delicious to the point that Ginny tried to get the recipe and intended to see if Mum would let her bake it herself, as she'd done a chocolate cake on Halloweeen.

She'd sent Ron a piece.  It had been good.  Ginny had said that chocolate cake could cure anything.  He wasn't going to say anything contrary, not as long as Ginny was willing to send him more cake.  Hogwarts elves made good meals, but their cakes were too dry in Ron's opinion.  

Ron heard a pair of shoes hit the floor and looked towards the sound.  Draco Malfoy had apparently gotten back from visiting his father in Saint Mungos.  Ron knew why Lucius Malfoy was in there.  He'd tried to get past the wards against Death Eaters on Privet Drive too many times.  Ron couldn't really understand why anyone would keep trying to go past those wards after they warned you with the heating Dark Mark that would burst into flames ... Harry had quietly let the others in the dorm know what had happened to the Death Eaters who had tried to get to him and the Dursley family after Primrose had found Lucius Malfoy ... well not Draco.  Sirius Black and Professor Snape had talked to Draco.

Ron didn't blame Draco for what his father did.  Blaming any child, or even the House of Slytherin for what the Death Eaters had done wasn't right.  When Ron was little and had learnt that the Death Eaters who were Slytherins had killed his uncles Gabe and Fabian, he'd blamed all Slytherins irrationally.   Having seen the way Draco had been suffering, especially since his father had been hospitalized with burns over most of his body, no seeing Draco curled up on the dark gray sofa, his head buried between his knees, and tears flowing down his cheeks.  Ron could not let him fall into deeper depression.  

Still, Ron knew he wasn't the best at cheering Draco up.  Harry was with Cedric on the Quidditch pitch, and Ernie was with Neville in the Greenhouse where Neville was helping him catch up with Herbology after Ernie's allergic reaction in Potions caused him to miss that class.  He wasn't sure where Justin, Sean, and Roger were.  There was no way he was interrupting the girls.  So Ron left his sister's letter on the table and went over to Draco, sitting down next to him.  He waited just a minute for Draco to register his presence before placing his arm around Draco's back.

Remembering what Harry had said, he was just silent for a while, letting his presence tell Draco that he wasn't alone.  He knew that Draco wasn't a big hugger, something that had been out of Ron's experience.  Weasley's hugged, especially his mother.  Ron thought his Mom believed that a good tight hug would push out all the bad feelings.  Ron actually preferred a bit lighter hug though.  He'd learnt, however, that Draco was mostly a single arm hugger.  So that's what Ron did, quietly, until Draco's sobs ended.

"How is he?" Ron asked, soft and quietly.  There was no need to say the name of Draco's father. No need to say more than those three short soft words to get Draco to look up and take a couple deep clearing breaths. 

"Still burnt, still smelling of burnt flesh," Draco said.  "You'd think that after two weeks they'd at least be able to get rid of the smell.  They can't really do anything about thought.  Something is overpowering the charms for that.  Mother says he's looking better, showing signs of healing, but I can't see anything changing.

"I asked father if he was feeling better, but he didn't really respond.  He just wanted to know if I'd heard about Snape, and if I knew anything about how it happened.   I told him no, but he wants me to find out how it happens.  He also wants me to get Harry to see him.  That is not happening.  Father still wants to destroy all of Privet Drive!  Harry is my friend.  He's probably the only reason why I'm not some isolated prince in Slytherin.  I like being in Hufflepuff.  It so much better than any place I've ever been in my life.

"Father thinks its made me weak, and that I should only associate with my father's old associates children in Slytherin and the families of the sacred twenty-eight.   As a list made by a cantankerous old man trying to make his particular faction sound better.  I think father took objection to description of the list.  I left after that.

"The thing is, on my way back I realized something, There are three boys in our year whose families are on that list, and they're all in Hufflepuff.  You, me, and Neville."

Ron looked at Draco for a just a few seconds, processing that before bursting out laughing.  "Merlin you're right," he said, as Draco joined his laughter.  "We have to tell Neville this."

The alcoves where the beds were in the Hufflepuff dorms did have a table and bench right below the window, but it was the last day of November before Harry Potter had actually seen anyone seated on one of those stone benches in any of the alcoves.  Draco was sitting on one of those benches, not the one next to his bed, but the one that would allow him to look at his bed.   His eyes were focused on an open ring box that was sitting on top of the pillow that didn't match the rest of the bedding..  The ring was silver and had some sort of raised pattern on the top that Harry couldn't tell from the view he had from the door.

It looked like little red hearts had been shot at it.  It took Harry just a few minutes to realize what they were, from when he helped his Aunt Petunia with baking.  He wasn't sure where Draco had obtained the cinnamon imperials, but it wasn't the first time he'd seen Draco with it. Draco flipped one through the air and it bounced right off the top of the ring.

"That's a waste of cinnamon candy," Harry said.

"I only had three hit the floor," Draco said.  "I can still eat the rest. Stupid ring."

"That kinda looks a bit important and special, like my heir ring," Harry said, as he entered the alcove and sat down opposite Draco.  "I don't wear it much, but I've had it since I was six.  When I turn fifteen I'll have to swap it for the Lord's ring instead of it being an option.  I'm not entirely sure about the importance of either, but the heir ring allowed me to unlock the cottage at Godric's Hollow and I can change the access list with it.  Not that I've done much change, save removing the betrayer, Pettigrew."

"My Father gave it to me and told me that I should wear it, so I'm prepared for when he dies," Draco said.  "I don't want my father to die."

"I don't think anyone truly wants their father or mother to die.  I mean I've heard many in my neighborhood, when they're mad at their mum or dad say that they wished their parent was dead.  I don't like to hear it, and for the longest time I didn't really understand it.  After all, I don't really have a memory of either my mum or dad.  My Uncle Vernon eventually explained it to me.  It takes a lot of love to get to the point where the finality of death becomes the opposite to deny the hurt they caused you."

"Yeah.  Father's always been there.  He's always made me feel like I something special, not alone and unwanted.  With father having followed the Dark Lord, a lot of children our age weren't allowed to come visit me.  The Bones and the Longbottoms, even the Dunbars ... before the Dark Lord, it would have been expected that I'd visit them, and they'd visit my house.  The Potters probably too.  I didn't meet Susan, Faye, or Neville until Hogwarts, really.  We would have been expected to already know each other, if it had been like our father's generation."

"I heard that from Sirius, though apparently his staying at the Potters after his fifth year, that had been some sort of a scandal."

"It wasn't Black staying at the Potter's that was the scandal.  The scandal was why he felt he needed to.  Mum won't let me repeat words they called his mother."

"I've heard them, and Aunt Petunia will wash my mouth out with soap if I use them.  Don't say she won't find out either.  I learnt from what happened to my cousin Bradley."

"Mum has something called Castor oil," Draco said still tossing cinnamon imperials.  "Tastes awful.  I'm not even writing down what words she told me not to use."

There was a moment's silence before Harry spoke up again.  "So, why is your heir ring out today."

"I just came from visiting father," Draco said. "He tried to make me put it on, so he could key me in to the manor's wards. It's the kind of thing that a Manor Lord does before he dies.  I don't want him to die.  He's got to recover.  I know the healers think he's getting worse, but he's gotten better before.  He can't be dying.  He just can't.

"He keeps writing in this book, putting all these things down that he says I need to know.  He told me that I need to write in it and follow the Dark Lord when he dies.  I don't want to follow the Dark Lord.  I don't want my father to die!"

There wasn't much Harry could do in reply.  "So you're tossing cinnamon imperials, trying to get one to land right on the ring, with all your concentration, so you don't think about it."

"Yeah," Draco said, sniffling.  "Kinda sounds stupid now that you say it."

"Depends, do you plan on eating the failures?"

"Of course!"

"Noble distraction, I'd say then.  And when one lands on it, put the heir ring on.  My Dad never gave me mine.  Yours gave you yours, and you'll want to have it on next time Professor Snape takes you to visit."

Draco nodded.  It took three more attempts before one ended up landing and not bouncing off the ring.

Faye, of the Bristol Dunbars, had invited several girls from out of Hufflepuff into not only the Hufflepuff Warren but into the first year dorm for the afternoon.   She could have just talked with them in the Common Room, or reserved a guest alcove, but she'd chosen to take them all the way to the alcove she shared with Susan. 

"I can't believe they let you room so close to the boys," Hannah Abbott said.

"The alcove locks, and it can be either a grate like what the boys have right now, or solid," Susan said.  "The toilets and showers do the same."

"You've got showers?"  Hermione said.  "In Ravenclaw we only have tubs."

"Showers and tubs, and the toilets are in the same bathroom.  They don't lock, and there is no shower curtain," Hannah added, as she sat down on Susan's bed.  "Gryffindor is a lot more open plan.  There isn't even a door between the bathroom and the stairs.  Just an archway for them on each landing.  At least we can close our bed curtains.  I really do love the four poster beds.  I think yours has a softer mattress than mine, Susan."

"You've always liked a firmer mattress than I have had," Susan replied. "I kind of like the daybed style in Hufflepuff better than four posters, though apparently you can ask for those.  Gabrielle, the female fifth year prefect, has one."

"Why do you feel the need to specify that they're female?"  Hermione asked.

"Our fifth year prefects are a sister and brother, born ten months apart, Gabrielle and Gabriel," Faye said.  "There is a slight difference in the name, but saying which one they are makes sure that everyone know knows which one you're talking about.   You might also hear then identified by the instrument they play in the Hufflepuff string quartet."

"And whatever you do, do not start with any viola jokes," Susan said.  "Once they hear one of them, well, Gabrielle, the violinist, can not resist teasing her brother, the violist about his instrument being less popular and lacking in good solo works."

"Which is a shame, because Gabriel is a bloody good soloist on his viola," Faye said, as the notes of a stringed instrument being bowed drifted into the room.  "And he's actually the one who runs the quartet, even though traditionally it's the violinist who does.  Roger just took up the cello position in the quartet, and we hear him practice a lot."

"He's very good," Susan said.  "Any one play in your dorms?"

"Anthony Goldstein plays the violin, which given his tendency to perch on top of things and religion, is just a little bit too fitting with the adaptation of Sholem Aleichem's work," Hermione replied.

"Adaptation, too fitting?" Faye asked.  "Some sort of book reference for Ravenclaws?"

"Have any of you actually heard of Fiddler on the Roof?" Hermione asked. 

"The musical?" Hannah said.  "Don't mind them, they don't get out much, especially Susan.  Very sheltered lives.  They'd never go out to the West End to hear — If I were a rich man Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum. All day long I'd biddy biddy bum. If I were a wealthy man. I wouldn't have to work hard. "

Faye interrupted her alcove mate's acknowledged best friend with a fake french accent, "sacrilege! Not working hard not permitted in Hufflepuff.  To even suggest not having to work hard! Sacrilege!"  Then she broke into giggles.

"I'm kind of impressed you got the ya ha deedle deedle right, Hannah," Hermione said.  "I mess that up every time the tune gets stuck in my head and I try to sing it out."

"I really don't understand what you two are talking about," Susan said.  "Why would that song have anything to do with Goldstein playing the violin."

"I'm going to have to be the Ravenclaw who explains everything ruining the joke," Hermione sighed.  "Some days I wish I'd been sorted in Gryffindor.  Okay, a fiddle is a violin, called such when it plays certain, usually less classical music, a fiddler being the person who plays it, and also someone just casually does something.  I assure you that Goldstein fits both definitions when it comes to him playing.  Fiddler on the Roof is musical play about Jewish town in the Russian Pale of Settlement.  Goldstein is Jewish.  He also absolutely hates the musical, because it doesn't have a happy ending."

"That's a shame, because it's good," Hannah said.  "Susan, if a revival of it is playing on the West End this Summer, Mum will make sure your aunt allows you to go to it with me.  I wish there were some good string players in Gryffindor.  One of our prefects plays the trumbone, and there are three saxophonists in third year.   Those sax players are all way too full of themselves.  Give a good string quartet piece any day of the week over that American Jazz Saxophone music."

"I don't know, I didn't really mind that Rhapsody piece that Towler plays all the time," Susan said.  "You know, he's kind of cool with those shades.  Beatrice says his kisses make her toes curl."  

"Okay, that is a good piece," Hannah admitted.  "Is Beatrice the fourth year with that golden blond hair?  I wish my hair was more golden instead of this flat pale blond I've got."

"At least yours is straight," Hermione groused.  "Mine is always a frizzy mess, unless I spend hours on it."

"You've at least got color," Faye said.  "I've got flat black that does nothing.  And Susan, you've got that nimbus of fire, that you somehow manage to make look good every morning."

Susan looked at Faye.  "Okay, I think it's obvious that I need to introduce all three of you to Sleekeasy, why the ancient house of Potter is more than just ancestrally wealthy.  And I think I better invite Harry to this, because it's obvious that he's never used his grandfather's greatest potion."

"Did I hear my name called?" Harry said from the open alcove doors moments later.

Severus Snape could tell that Draco really didn't want to visit his father, but felt he had to obey his father's summons to his bedside in Saint Mungos.  It was quite fortunate that the healers had applied a glamor over Lucius before Draco got there.  Severus knew what Lucius looked like without the glamor now.  All his carefully cared for blond hair had been burnt off.  His face reminded Severus of the Decayed Master from Doctor Who, a show that he'd gotten into as a distraction during the times at home when he couldn't use his wand during his childhood. 

Still, even with the glamor it was obvious that Lucius Malfoy was in pain when Draco paused in the doorway.  He couldn't see Draco's expression from behind, but from the way Draco's shoulders first slumped and then stiffened and his posture straightened, he knew that Draco was putting on his pure blood scion mask.  He could tell that the first year Hufflepuff was schooling all emotion away from his expression before stepping into the room containing what Severus was sure was Draco's father's eventual deathbed. 

Draco was not wearing formal Malfoy Heir Robes, with their deep dark greens and blacks and sliver pipping along the seams.  He wasn't even wearing the best silk Hogwarts robes that money could buy.  No, he was wearing black cotton robes with his bright yellow and black Hufflepuff tie.  Severus knew that it had been careful chosen to deliver a message, along with the heir ring that was now on Draco's right ring finger, in itself a message.  This was a boy who did not want to ascend to the rank of a Wizarding Lord, but knew he had no choice in the matter. 

His cotton robes instead of silk said that he was going to take on the role with determination, but not flaunt it like his father had.  When the robes of Wizarding Lordom came upon his shoulders, they would find a boy, still in school, but willing to put the hard work his house was known for into them. The ring being on the right ring finger, instead of the left middle said that he had made decisions on his own that he was not going to be convinced otherwise by his father. 

Last time Draco had worn the robes of the heir, cut simply, with white instead of sliver piping to indicate that he had not been blessed yet with the ring from his father.  Severus noticed Draco looking down at the silver serpent ring, polished to a shine.  Then he looked straight ahead and stepped into the room.

"Father," Draco said emotionlessly, as he came to a stop at the foot of the bed.  "My godfather has obeyed your command and brought me, your heir, to see you.  What do you bid me to do?"

There was a brief expression of pride that passed across Lucius Malfoy's face before the pain he was under wiped it away.  He put the book he'd been writing in, which appeared to be a diary of all things, aside. "My son, with whom I am well pleased," he began formally. "I call you here today to assure myself that the alliances of House Malfoy will continue.  Have you reviewed the house's alliances, as I have asked."

"I have," Draco said in a complete monotone.

"Then I can expect that you will continue those alliances, including that to our Dark Lord," Lucius said.  "And that you will follow his order to continue his force's vendetta against the family that thwarted his last rise, and that you will continue the line through that which you've been arranged?"

 Severus could feel the connection between father and son as they stared at each other.  Draco's glare was so intense that Severus wouldn't have been surprised if his father began to burn again.  Somehow Draco seemed to straighten and draw himself taller than his eleven years should have allowed.

"An alliance with a defeated insurrectionist, who brands his followers as if they were slaves," Draco said his voice now dripping with venom. "Against a house that did nothing more but to protect their children with sacrificial love.  No.  The House of Malfoy will do better once you are gone father than a failed dark lord who kept you under the chains of slavery."

"The Dark Lord will see that as a betrayal and will wipe out the House of Malfoy," Lucius said.

Draco crossed his arms, making sure his heir ring was still visible.  "So be it.  Life is not so dear to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery."

"The others allied with him will be against you."

"I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death," Draco said with conviction, before dropping back into his venomous tone, pulling his wand from his sleeve.  "You followed the orders of your master, slave, and it drove you to this.  Finite Incantum."

Lucius's glamor disappeared, revealing his decayed and burnt face.

"You probably wanted me to remember you with that glamor of what you were before you went after my friend and dorm mate's family.  You probably wanted me to remember you as the proud scarless wizard who raised me.  Would that I could.  But I shall not.  I shall remember the burnt kindling left behind of a man who let revenge and loyalty to a lost master ruin his life.  A man who could not repent, and therefore was consumed with his hatred made manifest with fire.  There may be redemption yet, but I can not see it.  It is a shame, but I am better off without you.

"I would say good bye or farewell, but it would not properly express the feelings that at departing your presence, father.  I so I shall merely say that begone from this Earth."

With that, Draco turned and swiftly exited the room.

Severus looked a the pained shell of a wizard on the bed with pity.  "It is a shame that you did not realize what you lost by following that Dark Lord, and it is clear that you regretted nothing you did in his service."  Severus bared his arm, showing the smooth unmarred skin where his Dark Mark had once resided. "That boy could have loved you, and you could have been helped, if you'd only let yourself regret."  Then he turned and followed his godson out of the room.  

If there were audible sobs from Lucius Malfoy as they left, neither of them recognized their source.  

It actually took a couple minutes for Severus to catch up with Draco, just outside the entrance to the Janus Thickey Ward.  The boy's courage and determination had apparently ran out as he slumped against the statue of the namesake of the ward.   When Severus reached the now crying boy, he drew his godson into his arms.  It was something that the Head of Slytherin had actually done quite a bit, holding a crying first year, but usually it wasn't for something so unexpected of one.

"Why does it hurt so much to ... you know ..."  Draco asked.

"I know," Severus replied, gently stroking Draco's hair. "You know, you were quite impressive there."

"Really?" Draco asked, sniffling. "I didn't want to leave anything unsaid.  You told me what the mark meant, and what it did.  Everything I could find with Granger's help agreed.  I'm glad she was visiting Faye and Susan, because I knew nothing about a Death Eater was and some of the words you used to describe ... I didn't really understand.  Still didn't entirely after going to the library with Granger."

"Potter?" Severus asked.  He knew the signs of help by someone acting like a big brother, and it came to Hufflepuff first years, really first years in general, the professors of Hogwarts already knew who was going to be the big brother.  Severus didn't expect Potter to turn into another Bill Weasley, the easiest choice ever for Head Boy, having actually been proposed as one to start his sixth year, but you couldn't deny that Potter was a natural big brother.

Draco nodded.  "He got me to talk through it.  Even got Ron in on it.  You know Ron's really good at strategy?  Tends to relate everything to chess.  Justin helped too.  He had this book called Familiar Quotations, which has all these neat muggle quotes.  I went from scared to go to ready to give father a piece of my mind, to tell him that I am not him, and I don't like what he did.  I did it, didn't I?"

"You most certainly did," Severus said.  "I particularly liked that give me liberty or give me death line.  For a moment, I thought you'd actually been sorted into Gryffindor."

"Can't take credit for it, Patrick Henry, 1775," Draco cited.  "Once I read it out loud, it just kind of stuck.  I couldn't not include it." He smiled."I had everything ready for what I thought he could say, I wasn't surprised."  

Then the smile disappeared again, and Severus saw the same scared young boy that he'd escorted back to Hogwarts a couple weeks before, as more of the energy that had propelled his godson to the confrontation was exhausted.    Severus found himself supporting Draco more.  "I wish he'd said something different.  I know I didn't say what he wanted to hear, either."

"Better that you were honest," Severus replied.  "And I do think, despite what you said, even because of it, your father is proud of you, and loves you."

"Maybe," Draco sniffled again, before untangling himself from Severus's hug.  "I think I want to go back to Hogwarts now."

For several nights Vernon had heard a recording of his nephew's flute rendition of "Moon River" just as his currently youngest daughter was being sent to bed.  He knew that the baby that Petunia was having in February would be another girl.  He was quite aware that Primrose was having nightmares after finding that smoldering death eater in front of the Matthews House at the entrance to Privet Drive, and had talked to Adeline Granger about finding a mind healer for his little Rose.  Having magical children and dealing with the statue of secrecy was not something that Vernon found easy, but he especially understood why this particular case would need someone magical to treat his daughter.

Adeline had a daughter who was one.  Vernon had yet to meet Boadicea, who had only recently decided to start coming out from more than two decades under the same charm that had protected Vernon's sister-in-law and her husband.  Boadicea had been much better than James and Lily had.  He had missed Peter Pettigrew's trial.  He had been able to go to the sentencing, where his Lily had delivered her own verdict on behalf of her brother Harry and Violet had delivered it on behalf of his family.

This night he hadn't heard a bit of the tune, probably because the tape recorder had given up the ghost that afternoon while Petunia was listening to something on it.  He hadn't paid attention to it.  A glance into Iris and Primrose's room had revealed Primrose laying stiffly with her open eyes appearing focused on trying to see something bunk above her in a room only lit by a single red nightlight bulb.

Vernon played three different instruments to a good standard in his life, thanks to the Music Professor at Smeltings.  Professor Toscanini had insisted that everyone should learn to play, starting everyone off on guitars before handing Vernon, always a stout boy and large for his age during his years at Smeltings, a double bass.  Vernon wasn't half bad at it, at one time he'd been rather good on it, but it wasn't his favorite instrument.  That was the violin, but his violin was in real need for maintenance at the moment.  He had not had time in the last three weeks to go get it restrung after the A string had broken while he was serenading Petunia.  Petunia did so enjoy a good violin solo, and while Vernon was no Paganini he was good enough that he'd been told he could have made a career in the Symphony Orchestras of England.  Vernon had never had an intention of turning his guilty and often hidden from the outside world musical pleasures into work.   

Plus, he'd never heard of even the First Violin of an orchestra being able to support eight much less his soon to be nine children.  Vernon loved his children, and his job at Grunnings easily gave him the income to support them and more.  Over the years they'd come to define his life and he'd do almost anything to make them well.  He was quite aware that he'd spoiled Dudley until Lily had come around.  He really had very little resistance to a sad or troubled face of one of his children.

So, Vernon reached into the back of his side of the closet and pulled out his guitar.  It wasn't the best guitar, as he'd purchased it from Smeltings in his second year using his merit points.  He'd been proud of it though, and had pulled it out now and then to keep up a few standards, even though it was rather cheaply made.  It was his though, and he'd refused to get rid of it several times, and even a couple times turned down an upgrade.  Vernon had perfect pitch, so it didn't take him long to tune it up and warm up his fingers with a bit of finger picking practice, but for no more than a couple minutes.

Then he exited the master bedroom and headed down the short hall to the young girl's room. It was actually the smallest of the three children's bedrooms with a bunk bed a wardrobe and a dressing table with two child size wooden chairs packed into the space. Primrose had the bottom bunk.  Primrose didn't react as he pulled one of those chairs over to the bedside.

"Can't sleep, little Rose?" he said softly.  Primrose nodded slowly.  "Then perhaps a little night music for you?  Something for your mind to focus on and then let go with?"

"Eine Kliene Nachtmusik?" Primrose said.

"We'll start with that before some more lullaby suited ones, if you don't mind," Vernon replied softly to his little girl.  Primrose nodded and turned on her side so she could look at her father playing in the dim red light .  Vernon didn't need the light to play.  He just immersed himself in the music. First it was Eine Kliene Nachtmusik, K525 before shifting though Brahms Lullaby which caused Primrose to actually break out into giggles, then to the Moon River piece which caused her to relax a bit.  Since he was already was into Mancini, "The Pink Panther" followed.  Primrose yawned and snuggle up against her stuffed bear, a gift that Harry had given her for her second birthday. Her fist rested against her lower lip as her eyes blinked slowly.  She yawned again as Vernon switched to Pacabell's Canon in D.  Like it always did, his daughter's eyes closed finally as her right leg stretched out briefly before her body relaxed into sleep.

Vernon kept playing the tune as Iris arrived from her bath and climbed up to her bunk.  Soon both his youngest daughters were asleep.  Vernon put his guitar down briefly and adjusted their covers, tucking them in for the night.  Then he picked up his guitar, leaving the room and closing the door gently behind him. 

Chapter Text

It was the raven.  Draco saw it coming, and he knew it was coming, but seeing that raven heading down towards him from the rafters of the Great Hall, it hit him.  He had told himself that he knew it was going to happen and thus he wouldn't cry.  When the raven landed in front of him with notice of his father's death, he felt the tears coming, and knew it he could not stop them.

He took the black cylinder from the raven's claw's, his own full name written on it as it would for all the others who were to get the official notice, in brilliant silver.  As the heir and only son of his father, his had to be delivered first and opened before another raven could deliver the notice.  A glace up revealed an unkindness of ravens circling, waiting for Draco to open the black sheepskin parchment roll.  He wanted to delay this moment, never mind his last visit to his father when he'd said what he'd wanted to say, needed to say, to the man who had given him life.

His fingers found the small dot of sealing wax and broke the seal, unrolling the parchment almost without seeing.  The raven took back off, and in the corner of his eye could see the conspiracy of ravens, notifying those who were required to know of a Lord of the Wizengamot's passing, the Chief Warlock, various heirs with right of election, and his godfather.  It barely registered, it was the background to his loss, the unexpected strong feeling etching even that into his brain as he brought the parchment up to read, it's silver words seeming to glow even in the full light of the newly risen above the horizon sun.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy.  It is with deep regret and sorrow that I must inform you of the passing of your father, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, an elected hereditary lord of the Wizengamot at just a minute before midnight last night.  Before his death, he asked me to pass along his last words to you.  'Tell my son, he is right, and I am pleased.'  Shortly after saying these words, he breathed his last breath.  Saint Mungo's shall keep his body under stasis until such a time as you are able to collect it for burial.  Sincerely, Healer Nigel Gale, Chief Healer Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."

Draco's eyes filled with tears that he'd told himself he wouldn't have, as his hand let the parchment drop.  The world became fuzzy, and he sniffled involuntarily.  His body trembled.  Suddenly he felt an arm come around him from the right, then the left.  His tears started to drip down his cheeks, as the thought suddenly came that it could not be happening to him.  His father could not be dead.

The firmament in the skies, the guiding star in the east had always been there was gone.  A thought briefly intruded about what wrong his father had done, but it was swiftly pushed aside.  It did not matter to the young blonde Hufflepuff first year.  Another tear went down his cheek, and then another.  No word escaped his mind.  There was no word that was worth expressing out loud that would define what Draco was feeling at the moment.

He felt his friends around him, their presence giving him unexpected warmth in his grief.  They were gather close, to his right and left and even behind him.  He felt Harry's glasses touch his right cheek.  He knew that Harry would be close by.  It was not unexpected.  To his left, totally ignoring whatever completely tasteless to Draco's tongue food that Hogwarts was providing for breakfast prior to everyone going home for Yule, was Ron.  His one armed hug was tight, pulling Draco close.  Weasleys had only one hug setting, and if you'd told Draco that the firm tight hug was what he would need at this time when he'd first met the youngest Weasley son, he would have denied it.  Then again, as late as just few minutes ago he would have thought there was nothing that could distract Ron from breakfast.

It was Ron who broke the silence.  "We're here for you, Draco."  Those were words that Draco needed to hear, and surprisingly to Draco they seemed to have more impact on him from Ron than when he'd heard similar words from Harry.  Ron's uncles had been killed by Death Eaters like his father, and Draco wouldn't blame him if Ron had stayed away, but he'd ended up being right next to Draco, his strong arm around Draco's sobbing body.  

Draco took several deep breaths, trying to bring his grief at least momentarily under control.  He straightened his body that some how curved down so that he was looking into his own breakfast, the remaining sausage link having had just a small bite out of it before the raven had arrived.  He sniffled again, as one of his hands went to find his linen handkerchief in his robes, only to find one coming in from a hand on his right.  He looked up and found Faye Dunbar offering hers.  He took it and blew his nose, before replying.  "I know."

He let himself wallow in the feeling of Harry and Ron's arms around him, knowing that his friends were there for him.  Friends, that was a word that he had not really known before.  It had been an abstract concept, with people classified as such when they didn't really fit.  Harry, Ron, Ernie, Justin, Roger, Neville, Faye, Sean, Susan ... those were friends, not some person who just was always around, probably on their parent's orders.  He'd been afraid when he was first sorted that he'd be lost in Hufflepuff, alone, away from that which he was destined to do.  With the strong arms around him, Draco took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders a bit.  Harry and Ron got the signal, and their arms retreated.  "Thanks — Everyone," he said, before picking up his fork to spear that last bite of sausage.

"You just have to owl, and one of us will be there for you," Susan said.

"Night or day, just flue Foggybottom and I'll be there for you, if you just want to talk, or need to listen to me prattle around about plants to distract you," Neville offered. 

"I may take your offer just for the Herblogy assignment over Yule," Draco replied. 

"You are excused from the Yule assignments, unless you want to do them," Professor Spout said as she placed her own right hand on Draco's right shoulder. "I already asked the other professors for you, Draco.  I know sometimes it's a wanted distraction, and sometime you just won't want to think about anything, and that's okay.  Just remember that Hogwarts and your friends, we're here for you."

Tears started to leak from his eyes again, as Draco nodded.  

His godfather was next.  Professor Snape didn't replace Sprout's hand on Draco's shoulder, nor did he hug his godson.  Instead he reached down and picked up the notice that had somehow fallen to the flagstones of the Great Hall.  As he brought it up, Snape's left eyebrow rose, and word, "unexpected," escaped from the Slytherin House Head.   Then he handed it back to Draco.

"You were right, Professor," Draco said.  "I wasn't ready."

"I told you that you wouldn't be," Professor Snape said.  "I wasn't. Do you need me?"

"Can you be at the Manor when I get there?" Draco said.  "I want to ride home on the Express with my friends, still."

"I can, Draco," Snape said, and waiting a moment before nodding. "Pomona, please let the Headmaster know where I will be after the Hogwarts Express leaves?"

Draco swallowed the last bit of his breakfast, and stood before walking out of the Great Hall to go home for the first time from Hogwarts. To go home to bury his father.  He did not try to stop the tears as he walked out of Hogwarts and boarded the carriages that took him to Hogsmeade station.

He did not try to stop crying as he rode the Hogwarts Express.  His friends where there for him.  Ron setting up a chess board so he could distract himself by losing again.  Roger pulling out his cello to play Elgar's Nimrod Variation and Barber's Adagio for Strings, which suited Draco's mood and kept others from interrupting Draco's grief.  He wasn't ready for the condolences, and his friends knew it.  They were quietly there, ready to distract him, to talk, or even just provide a dry square of linen to dry his eyes and cheeks again. 

As the Express pulled into platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross Station, the thought crossed Draco's mind for the first time since he'd been sorted.  He was glad he'd been sorted to Hufflepuff.

It had not been easy for Ron to find proper mourning attire.  He'd known he'd need it, given that everyone in his dorm knew that Draco's father was not long for the world at least by the beginning of December.  It was not something that his family kept everyone able to use.  He'd talked to his brothers about it, especially Percy and Bill.  He knew that money was a big issue with his family, and was quite a bit sensitive about it, when it was brought up.

Since Bill was now Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, it was to him that he'd gone to once he'd realized his situation.  Draco was a friend, and friends needed to be supported in their grief.  That was something that his mother had told him when Ginny's friend Luna had lost her mother.  With Draco, given his position wasn't the comfort of going to play and constantly inviting over to get her out of the house that Ginny had practiced with Luna. It was a bit like how it started.  Ginny had stood by Luna through her mother's burial.

He'd talked with Bill about what he should do, and how he should support Draco.  Bill, because of his work with Gringrotts, knew a lot more about pureblood rules, that and he was the eldest and a lot fell to him.  It was Bill that had solved his mourning attire issue.  So he had the plain gray flat robes of mourning. It was not reflective, not bright nor dark.  They were robes that were plain and mostly unadorned.  There was a Hufflepuff badger on them, but that was all.  He could have asked for his family coat of arms, desaturated of all color, but the plan badger said more.

Bill, as the eldest did have the family coat of arms, a pair of sable otters, rampet, facing outwards on an argent shield.  It did not require desaturation.  Bill carefully examined Ron's new robes, straightening his collar, before declaring.  "Good.  Head down to the kitchen, I will be along shortly as I need to retrieve a letter entrusted to me by Gringotts."

Ron carefully descended the stairs, trying to make sure not to get anything on the robes he'd just been given.  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, which opened to the kitchen, his mother was just finishing putting up the dishes from breakfast.  

"Where do you think you're going dressed up like that?" his mum asked.

"Malfoy manor in Wiltshire," Ron said.  "It's visitation for Wizengamot Lord Lucius Malfoy."

"And what, tell, give you the idea that you should be going to visitation before a Death Eater's funeral?" His Mom asked, her voice raising.

"His son isn't a Death Eater," Ron began.

"Probably a Slytherin, and no son of mine is going to such a dark wizards ..." her volume increase.

Ron dared to interrupt his mother.  "He's a Hufflepuff, lives in the same dorm as I am."

"Probably growing up to follow in his father's footsteps," his mum continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.

"No," Ron said firmly back.  "Draco is not his father."  His firm tone that surprised even himself caused his mum to stop and look directly at him.  "He was sorted into Hufflepuff and you know why the Sorting Hat put him there? It said Draco needed to be in Hufflepuff, though apparently he was nearly in Gryffindor, much to everyone's surprise.  Yeah, he wanted to be in Slytherin, like his father, but I wanted to be in Gryffindor like mine.  But we both ended up in Hufflepuff, first to be sorted there in our respective families in centuries. 

"I'm a Hufflepuff, and like Draco I belong there.  He is nothing like his father.  In fact the last time he saw his father alive he told his father off for wanting him to continue to go after Harry's family.  We helped him prepare for that last visit, helping him practice what he wanted to say.  To help give him a bit of courage to stand up for what he believed in, instead of falling back to the path his father insisted on it. 

"He was so exhausted when he came back with Professor Snape from that last visit.  He was so sure that by standing up to his father, saying that he would not follow You-Know-Who, that he stood against that, that he was going to be disowned and his father would hate him.  And yet ..."

Ron paused for a moment, collecting himself, looking down at his feet.  He was surprised that his Mum didn't continue her rant when he paused.  Softer he continued after collecting himself.  "And yet, just before he left Hogwarts he got his father's death notice and read it, it said that his father's last words where that his son was right and he was pleased with Draco.

"Don't tell me that Draco's evil, and not worthy of comfort.  I don't want to know for sure that you think that way of my friend.  My friend who just lost his father, and just wants his friends by his side, may have a little hug, some comfort while those people who believe like his father did, and expect him to be that unmoving, unfeeling pureblood heir that he wants to be more than. 

"Bill is going to be down here in a few minutes, and like I told Dad last night, I'm going to Malfoy Manor, to be there for my friend Draco.  Don't even think of stopping me."

He saw his mother's expression change, in fact as he looked back up into his mother's eyes, he was sure he could see the glistening precursors of tears in her eyes.  Her expression softened, and moved to a slight smile.  "Does your friend Draco like chocolate biscuits?" she asked.

"He can't get enough of them when you send them to Hogwarts," Ron admitted. 

"I thought I remembered that," his mum said, summoning a stiff cloth bag and some of the chocolate biscuits she had made the afternoon before as Bill stepped off the stairs.  "Bill, keep an eye on Ron at that manor, please.  Ron, give your friend a firm Weasley hug."

"Yes Mum," Ron said.

"And if he needs to get way from that big empty manor, tell him that the Burrow is open for him."

"I will, Mum," Ron said, before he stepped into the fireplace and called out, "Malfoy Manor!"

Harry looked over at his sister Lily as they entered the Malfoy Patriarchal Study at Malfoy Manor.  Draco had asked for him and Neville to arrive early, but he wasn't quite sure that Lily was going to be welcome.  She couldn't stay out with Draco's mother, and there was no way that Harry was going to leave Lily out with Sirius Black, not after last night's prank war, which Lily had lost badly.  The man was menace.  He fully expected that some pure blooded lord was going to sit down on a whoopie cushion sometime during the viewing. 

He had briefed Harry rather well on some of the people he'd be encountering later today.  It was a sad way for it to happen, but this was going to end up being his first real introduction to high wizarding society.  He know knew exactly how to identify most of the current Wizengamot Lords.  Susan had already taught him a bit on the heads of the departments of the Ministry of Magic, all of which would come.  Harry had felt quite unprepared once Sirius had mentioned who all would feel the need to come.  He really just was coming to support Draco.

Lily had come, first time wearing witches robes, because of the Dursley Family Buddy system.  No Dursley children ever went alone to some place the first time, not even their first visit to a friends house.  You had a buddy, not always the same one, who came with you. It was one of those bolded all caps rules of the family.  Harry had chosen Lily, there was really no other choice.  She was biologically his sister.  She was magical, unlike Dudley, who he'd probably have chosen if that wasn't a factor.  Most importantly, Lily was a very quick study who after just a brief out of order discussion of the current Wizengamot Lords recited them in order categorical. 

She'd even figured out the three most likely candidates to be elected to fill the seat that Lucius's death left vacant.  Harry actually had a vote in the matter, due to some rather archaic rules for choosing members and the fact that his father's death had made him the head of his wizarding house.  Harry thought the system was odd, but he wasn't going to waste his vote, and in addition to helping Draco, this would be a good place to meet those three likely candidates.  He just hoped that no one's arm would burst into flames. 

"Harry, I see you brought the infamous Lily the Fire with you," Neville greeted from where he was standing next to Draco who was seated at the desk.  There was a diary of all things on the desk. 

"I hope you don't mind, Draco," Harry replied, as Lily closed the gap that had opened between them since he entered the room.  "Aunt Petunia has a buddy system rule for even first visits to friends houses." Lily punched his left shoulder.  "Ow, Lily, what was that for?"

"Lily the Fire ... you let that nickname get out of Privet Drive," Lily said, her arms folded.

"This one of those sibling things that Ron is always talking about?" Draco guessed.

"Don't know, only child here," Neville remarked.  "I think we might want to step back though if Ron's stories about red headed little sisters were correct and we just didn't hear about it from Harry?"

There statements had been enough to catch the attention of Lily though, and she whipped around, her hair spinning outward as she reversed her position so she was looking directly at Draco and Neville.  She took a step forward just as the door to the study opened.  As she completed the step, a small flame rose from the diary on the desk.

"That's only happened with Death Eaters," Lily said, surprised.  Her head moved backwards a little with that surprise before she pushed her hair back behind her shoulders.

Harry moved to stand beside Lily as someone entered the room and the door automatically closed behind them.  Harry glanced backwards, discovering that Ron had just arrived.

"Your Mother said that I should ..." Ron began.  "Oh wow. Burning your dad's old books, Draco?"

"Didn't intend to," Draco said.  The flame had gotten a bit higher but remained confined to the diary.  "Did your brother, the Defense Professor come with you?"  Ron nodded.  "Can you get him?  I think this book might have been You-Know-Who's.  Step back, Harry, Lily."  When they stepped back, the flames disappeared.

"Just like with the Death Eaters," Lily remarked.  "Especially Wormtail."

Draco looked a bit uncomfortable with that statement, which Harry figured was as to be expected.  "That was weird," he said, moving around the desk so he was on the side closer to the door and could exit easier.  Neville did the same.  "I think it was good thing that I never opened that book, just moved it off the ward book when I needed to take over the wards.  Have you ever done that, Harry?"

"The ones at Godric's Hollow, a couple years back," Harry said.  "I had to bring them back active after an incident near the front gate. Someone ministry guy wanted to take control and have tours be given of the house.  Just opening it did the reseat.   I looked at the authorized list at Halloween but didn't do anything to it."

"I had to take control and open up the list for today," Draco said.  "I'm glad that mother had me go over to Lord Black's house to demonstrate how to do it. Have you been to Grimauld Place?"

"No, Aunt Petunia doesn't think it's safe yet," Harry said. 

"It's not," Draco said, showing a healing doxy bite.  "But Black is good, but in no way does he live up to his name."

"Remus told me that when he was released," Harry said, as the chime of a quarter till rang.  "He warned me that Sirius was an unrepentant prankster."

"My mother warned me of that," Draco said, as Ron returned with his brother and Susan Bones  "Professor Weasley, that diary on my desk is producing a flame when Harry or Lily step towards it."

Harry watched his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor silently cast a few spells at the diary, his expression getting grimmer with each spell.  With one amber spell, his eyes actually widened. "Mister Malfoy," Professor Weasley said.  "We're going to secure and dispose of this properly.  That' got part of You-Know-Who's soul in it.  I know how to destroy it, but it can't be done here, not without destroying the desk and possibly more."  

"Secure it, and I think I have to go out as the visitation starts at the top of the hour, though most probably come late during it, according to mother," Draco said.  Harry noticed that Draco's expression had changed.  By his judgement, Draco looked a bit unsure and sad.  His voice was not strong when he continued.  "Stand with my mother, me, and Lord Black, Harry?"

Harry put his hand on Draco's back.  To his surprise, it wasn't silk.  It was cotton, not high thread count like Aunt Petunia's sheets, but courser. "I'll be there as long as you need me.  So will Ron, Neville, and Susan if you need them, right?"

"Right," Ron, Neville, and Susan chorused.

"Faye's going to be watching the incoming," Susan said.  "We've got some good, well practiced hand signals, so you won't be surprised by much, Draco."

"Just warn me if Muriel Prewitt comes in," Draco said, as they left the study.  "I heard what commotion she made at Arcturus Black's visitation."

"I will not need to volunteer to make sure you know," Ron said.  "She's my great aunt.  She'll see me and you'll hear the criticism of my robes across room."   

Harry followed Draco into the reception room were the visitation was taking place.  The receiving line was to be a good distance away from the casket, not right by the door.  It was tradition that a couple family friends would be by the door in order to intercept those that should be there.  Draco was an only child as had been his father.  His paternal grandfather had a sister, his Great Aunt Edelweiss who never married but had two children Candidum and Sarnia, out of wedlock, and such none of the three would be noted as being the reception.  As such they made good choices to be by the door that no one would really question or note.  Candidum and Sarnia also had the same red hair as Ron, which made his split off to join them rather good, in Harry's judgement.
         
Sirius and Narcissa were already standing behind the iron stanchions with black velvet ropes that defined where everyone would speak with family before taking a few large steps to the closed coffin.  As Draco had asked, Harry followed Draco. Lily found a chair that was a bit hidden by a column at the edge of the room, nearby, within both Harry and Sirius's sight.  Harry expected her to go through the receiving line later.   The order was Sirius, Narcissa, Draco, and then him.  

At the moment the room only had the first year Hufflepuffs, Sirius, Narcissa, and Edelweiss Malfoy and her family.  That did not last long as Candidum Malfoy stepped through the door to the flue room.  This was a formal event, so the flue room had been closed off so it only had the exit to the reception room open.  Sirius had explained that this was so those who were not good at flue travel could straighten up a little.  Harry figured if he hadn't come early he'd have welcomed the room to straighten up.

A few notes of a funeral dirge played, alerting everyone that the first guests had arrived.  Since this was the first, it was louder than it would be there after.  The Malfoy welcoming chimes was a diverse system of musical tones, that has been overridden with the dirge for most for this event. If the Queen arrived, God Save the Queen would of course be played, and Harry had been warned that both the Headmaster and the Minister for Magic had their own chimes.   None of those where expected near the first.  The Queen wasn't expected at all, though since Lucius had been a Wizengamot Lord, a notice had been sent to the Court of Saint James.  There had been a time when it was normal, but that hadn't been the case since the death of Queen Victoria.

The first group to enter was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and it's chief, Amelia Bones.  She was accompanied by two aurors, who it looked Lily had just recognized.  Harry was quite familiar with that particular expression on his sister.   She liked those two.  Bones headed over to Lily and cast a measuring charm.

"Excuse me, Black, Potter," Bones said approaching the line. "I'd like to have Lily moved about three feet closer. And if I could put Auror Sink nearby?"

"Catching some Death Eaters," Harry noted.  "Please put Sink there.  I know she likes him, and I think I know what you're hoping for.  Promise me you'll make sure she's okay with it?  Primrose is still having nightmare about, you know."

"I know," Bones said.  "We'll try to keep it to spotting the flames and make any arrests quiet."

With that, Bones retreated back towards the door, just as the funeral dirge played again.  Soon, Harry's life became greeting various witches and wizards that he barely or didn't know at all and putting his hand on Draco's shoulder to help his friend collect himself.  He wasn't sure how the simple hand on the shoulder worked, but it did cause the line to pause just for a moment.  Draco would take a few deep breaths, then nod.  Harry's hand would drop.

As expected the likely candidates to replace Lucius on the Wizengamot where quite early in their arrival.  Sirius had put his hand in the ring.  Bartemius Crouch had arrived first, practically run through the reception line.  The man was apparently an auror turned diplomat, but Harry couldn't see it. 

"He hates me," Sirius said, leaning to whisper a reason into Harry's ear.  

Knowing that Crouch had been the one that had failed to act on the writ of habeas corpus that had been filed at least twice while Crouch had been head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry had figured there had to be bad blood of some type between his godfather and Crouch.  There was no way that he was going to vote for Crouch to ever be on the Wizengamot. 

That was when flames from the Dark Marks the first of six Death Eaters that had chosen to show their respects became visible.  It did not take long at all for the aurors to take the until now unknown Death Eater.  It was still a prohibited organization, and unless you were acquitted or pardoned, both of which had applied to Draco's father, or sentenced for it, you were subject to arrest for it. 

Neville Longbottom accompanied Draco down to the catacombs of the Malfoy Estate, not located under the manor house itself, but under the former keep, devoid of its walls since the seventh King Henry had ordered them removed.  They passed the tomb of Louis Malfoy, Richard the Third's Royal Court Wizard, the reason that King Henry had made the order.  As you got deeper into the catacombs, the graves got newer, as they had been expanded deeper.

The Malfoys had a tendency to back the wrong leader, they'd been the Royal Court Wizards of the first King Charles and the seventh and second King James.  Jacques Malfoy, whose tomb was topped with an white marble effigy of him with crossed wands had been the last public Court Wizard.  The wizard hadn't been exactly loyal to the man who had hired him, though, and once the Statue of Secrecy had passed in Brittan just a year into William and Mary's reign, his turn from high muggle culture lover to dedicated member of the Wizengamot defining how the Statue would work had been rather swift and unexpected by his peers. 

Another turn and down a bit further, and the burial party came to a stop before a green marble lined niche in the wall. It was by no means a place of prominence among the open spaces in the latest expansion of the catacombs, that was especially shown by comparison to the wizards they'd passed earlier.  Neville looked at Draco, who nodded.  Together they reached down and lifted the closed casket, aided by its charms, into the niche.

Then Draco tapped his wand above the niche.  Green marble closed the niche and Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes.  Two more breaths, and the inscription formed, "Lucius Malfoy 1953 - 1991, Death Eater and Traitor."  Another deep breath and Draco opened his eyes.

"So it is written, so let it be done," Draco intoned.  "Thank you for coming all the way down here with me, Neville.  I really didn't know how I was going to handle this part."

"Just promise you'll be there when I need to do it for my father," Neville replied, his thoughts briefly going to his mind locked parents.  Draco nodded, putting his arm around Neville's shoulders.  Neville returned the favor.

"Are you surprised as I am about Ron's Great Aunt Muriel?" Draco asked.

Neville decided to take the obvious change the subject question.  "Yes, I thought if any of the other Hufflepuff first year family members were going to have a burning mark, it would have been my Uncle Aggie.  I really don't know how he avoided being sentenced to Azkaban for endangerment."

"Did you see Ron's expression when that flame erupted from Muriel's robe?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, he'd never ever considered the possibility," Neville said.  "Actually I'm pretty sure she never considered that she'd be caught that way."

"I don't blame Ron from thinking that," Draco said.  "She was the last person I'd thought would be a Death Eater.  I mean her own nephews were killed fighting them."

Neville put his arm around Draco's shoulders.  "Some people are so stupid," he commented.  "Come on, Harry's setting up ice cream for us now that this stuff is over."

Christmas at the Dursleys had been a joyful time, well with the exception of the year that Noel had been born. Dudley's mother had been rushed to the hospital in the early morning and everything had been a mess back in '85.   Dudley and Harry had suddenly ended up, as five year olds, trying to make sure that their then four younger siblings were not bothering Mummy and Daddy.  It had been the first time that they'd stepped up as big brothers. 

Presents weren't open until just before bedtime on Boxing Day, and they'd swore that would never happen again.

Every year since then, it had become Harry and Dudley's job to handle everything Christmas, from decoration, to present distribution, and even all the meals from Christmas Eve until the Feast of the Holy Family, whenever that was that year.  This year decorating had started just a bit later than usual, because both of them were away at boarding school.  They'd forgotten to delegate that job to Lily and Violet like they'd planned the previous year.

Number Four Privet Drive was well known for it's Christmas spirit, even before Harry and Dudley had taken over the matter.  You could smell the fresh baked cookies, a good amount of which would end up being taken with each child as they returned to school after the holiday break. The sounds of carols echoed throughout the rooms and up the stairs.  Mostly traditional ones, though the latest hits sometimes ended up joining the joyful chorus. 

"Deck the Halls with boughs of holly," Harry sung out, securing the first bit of the fake but surprising realistic holly garland to the top of the stairs newel post.  Dudley still had a couple more boxes to take down to from the attic. 

"Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la" echoed his siblings below.  Dudley liked the way they sung the song, which had started because the younger siblings couldn't remember most of the words.

"'Tis the season to be jolly," Harry continued, looping the garland between the balusters and over the hand rail.  Harry did the best at hanging the garland throughout the house, having developed some tricks to handle the fact that they were not and never had been tall enough to do it everywhere it should be normally.  Some of them were magical, some were Dudley's own non-magical makeshift tools.

"Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la" echoed his siblings again.  Iris seemed to be a bit off key, and with maybe a stuffed nose. Some warmed butter beer from Diagon Alley might be in order.  He'd picked it up when he'd gone Christmas shopping with Harry's godfather Sirius the day before Harry had returned from Hogwarts.  Dudley had a two day longer holiday than Harry did this year.

"Don we now, our gay apparel," Harry continued as Dudley passed him a box of homemade tree ornaments.  The Christmas jumpers were out, as per tradition for decorating.  They'd be put in the laundry tonight to be ready for Christmas afternoon.
 
"Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la" they echoed again.  Dudley could hear Noel's especially loud reply.

"Troll the ancient yuletide carol," Harry said as he worked his way down the stairs.

"Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la" they echoed the last line of the verse.

"Dudley, where are the bows for the balustrers?" Harry asked as he finished the last bit of garland, wrapping it around the bottom newel post.

"I think I found them, but there are only thirty six of them," Dudley said, digging into another box that had been brought down from the attic.  

"That should be enough," Harry replied.

"But last year there were thirty-seven, I'm sure of it, Harry."  Dudley said counting again.  "You know it has to be an odd number to work.

"Don't worry, Dudley," his mother said, as she came in from the parlor, a cup of steaming liquid in her hand.  "We can always cut more from the ribbon.  We still have plenty of that style."  His mother was due in seven more weeks, and he'd been quite surprised at how big his next sibling had made his mother's belly already.  It had been five years since Primrose had been born, and he'd forgotten what that was like.

"True, but we might need get more next year.  I think some of them are on their last Christmas," Harry replied, just as the oven buzzer went off  "Lily, that is not how you hang the mistletoe!  Two to the right, and lengthen the ribbon before you put it over the edge above the kitchen door.  I got to take out the ginger bread men."

Dudley took the opportunity to hug his mother.  Being away at Smeltings had left him rather appreciative of all his Mum did for him and the family.  He'd never been big about saying that, but a hug or two hear and there, that he thought said it more than words.

The front door opened, revealing his father with the yule log he'd obtained.  Dudley held up two fingers, and his father picked up right where Harry had left off.

"See the blazing Yule before us," his dad's baritone filled the house. 

Lily peaked in from the parlor, a pair of elf's ears gracing her head, as she, Violet, Iris, and Primrose chorused, "Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la"

"Strike the harp and join the chorus," his dad said, putting down the log giving a hug to mum.

This time mum joined with all the family, "Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la"

"Follow me, in merry measure" his dad said, hugging first Dudley, before being swarmed by his daughters.

"Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la" echoed the hallway again.

"While I tell of yuletide treasure," his dad said letting go of the girls and turning towards the onrushing Bradley and Noel.

"Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la" they concluded.

"Now where is Harry," his father said.  "He's missing a hug."

"Just getting the ginger bread men out of the oven," Harry said coming into the hallway, dropped the oven mits on the counter as he rounded it. 

Dudley felt no jealousy in seeing his cousin being hugged by his dad.  They were Dursleys, even if Harry's last name was different, and there was always more of that magical thing called love to share. 

Chapter Text

It was a cold overcast Boxing Day when Lily Dursley stepped out of Number Four Privet Drive and headed down to Number Twelve.  The Dursleys were expecting a wizarding guest, and for the first time it would be one of Harry's dormmates instead of a wizard.  It hadn't been uncommon for Sirius Black to be at Privet Drive for the last month or so.  Sirius had become Primrose's favorite wizard.  Remus Lupin was a regular visitor, as well, and there had even been a couple times when that "disreputable barkeeper" Aberforth Dumbledore had made his way to number four.  Brad would never ever touch any brown bottle shaped like Ogden's fire whiskey again.

Lily was now used to calling Brad instead of Bradley.  If her little brother wanted to be called that way and really was getting tired of their mother's nicknames, well, he had the right to be called what he wanted to be called.  Brad was also the reason why Lily was heading to number Twelve instead of Harry.  Harry was handling the aftermath of Brad's latest run in with Dennis Creevy's gang, the Menaces. Dennis's dog Gnasher had been taken away from him, and he apparently blamed Brad. How Dennis and Colin could be so different yet be brothers was a mystery to Lily. Her own brothers didn't show anywhere near the differences between them.

It was not hard to spot the visitor to Privet Drive.  With his gray long coat, black scarf, gray bowler, and smooth soled black dress shoes, freshly polished, Draco Malfoy did not look like a boy who had come play at a friend's house.  Though Lily understood that the upper class wizarding boy didn't really have a lot of experience in such things.

"Draco!" Lily called out, heading towards where Draco had been meandering down from Number Twelve in front of Number Eight.  "Sorry, Harry got caught up in handling a problem with Brad."  He looked up at Lily.  Lily was suddenly struck with the thought that Draco was kind of handsome.  She came up beside him and placed her left arm around his waist.

"Good Morning," Draco paused for a moment, "Lily."  Lily pulled him a bit closer.  "I'm not surprised.  Harry is always stepping up as our dorm's big brother even though he's the youngest.  Should I be worried?"

"No," Lily said, noticing that Colin was out front picking up some rubbish that had blown into the front garden of number six.  "Colin! Expect Dudley with your little brother Dennis.  He's apparently running from Dudley at the moment."

"I heard!" Colin said with his usual steady cheerfulness.  "Porta ran by a few minutes ago chasing down Godwin.  Piers had already pulled Crispin back to his parents.  Mr. Adams didn't look very happy."

"He shouldn't," Lily said.  "They really beat up Brad.  He's got a bloody nose and black eye.  Oh, Draco, this is Colin Creevey, one of the young wizards on the street.  He'll be starting Hogwarts with me the year after next.  Colin, this is Draco Malfoy, dorm mate of my brother Harry in Hufflepuff."

Colin replied, taking Draco's hand and shaking it, "Glad to meet one of Harry's school friends.  Excuse me, I see that Dudley's almost corralled my next younger brother."

With that, Dennis almost managed to run down the sidewalk between Lily and Colin, Dudley on his heels.  However, both of them put out their legs causing Dennis to trip and fall into the small shallow garden pond in the Creevey's front garden breaking the thin coating of ice that had remained from overnight.  "I'll put out some dry clothes for you, Dudley," Lily said, as her oldest brother deftly picked up the three years younger Dennis from the pond.

"Thanks," Dudley replied.  "You must be Draco.  Pardon me, but I've got some discipline to handle.  This is one of those direct to parents ones.  Carrie has already made the calls."

"Oh, they are in trouble aren't they," Lily said.  "If Carrie has taken time away from Nicole to call the Menaces' parents..."

"Carrie was over with Nick when they started beating up Brad," Dudley said.  "Don't try to get away Dennis.  You know you're not going to escape.  See you back home, Lil."  Colin opened the door to Number Six and Dudley carried Dennis through the door, nearly falling when Ruff made an exit from the house.

"Sorry, Ruff, but I'm not going to be out here to play," Lily said as the long haired white dog circled around her and Draco.  Ruff came close enough to Draco that he stumbled a bit and Lily found his arm seeking her shoulder in a bid to stay upright.  She didn't mind, as they headed down to the next house.

"Is this place always this exciting?" Draco asked.  

"Exciting?" Lily replied.  "You haven't seen anything yet." 

When Lily opened the front door and entered the front hall, it was perfectly normal to her.  It was still decorated, they were not going to take down the decorations until Harry and Dudley went back to school. So Boxing Day looked a lot like Christmas, the garland draped along the stairs, a sprig of mistletoe hung over the entry to the kitchen.  To the left was the parlor, with the Christmas Tree, still decorated with it's home-made ornaments and braided ribbon garland.  From where Lily stood she could see where both a hair ribbon of her own and one of Iris's had been braided in.  Her father was seated on the shorter sofa and was tuning up his guitar.

Draco had entered behind her, as it was impossible for two to enter at once like they'd walked down Privet Drive.  He'd stopped and was taking in the ambiance of the place.  It was obvious to Lily that Draco had never been in a place like her home.  His eyes were darting around as his head slowly turned to take in everything from where he stood.

Harry stepped out from the Kitchen.  "Hi Draco," he said.  It looked like Harry had just washed his hands, based on the little bit of dampness on the wrists of his jumper.  "Lily.  I think I got Brad sorted out.  Welcome to Number Four Privet.  Not what you expected?"

"I'm not sure what I expected," Draco replied, as Primrose raced from the Kitchen and back into the parlor followed by Padfoot.  "This wasn't it though.  Is that a grim?"

"No, it's Sirius," Harry said.  "Animagus form.  He and Primrose have been darting around the house all morning."  Harry looked up and down Draco.  "Okay, I'll admit that it is proper muggle attire, but Draco that can't be comfortable."

"It was the only thing I had that was in the book," Draco replied.  

"That book is out of date," Harry replied.  "Fortunately, you're not the first person to need a bit of better attire for the situation we've had visit."

"You should have seen what Ginny's father wore when he came over with her a couple weeks ago," Lily said.  Arthur Weasley hadn't been that formal, but that plaid vest and gold slacks – she strongly suspected that Ginny's mother had poodle skirt somewhere.  It was not what she expected from someone that ran a Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. 

Harry pointed to the cloakroom.  "I put a t-shirt and jeans in there for you to change into.  Best leave those shoes off inside anyway."  

Draco moved into the cloak room and Lily to the parlor where she found a seat to listen to her father who had switched to his beloved violin, recently restrung and was warming up with "Sleigh Ride."  All of her siblings were migrating to the parlor so they could hear their father's playing.   Primrose was seated with her back to Padfoot at their father's foot.  Noel was over by the fireplace, playing with the Meccano set that he'd gotten for Christmas.  Iris was knitting with some new yarn that Aunt Marge had sent her on the longer sofa.  Brad was seated in Mum's chair, trying to find a comfortable position given how badly he'd been beaten up.  Violet was next to Dad, her right knee held against her chest and eyes closed as mouthed the words to the song, knowing that singing with this piece just wasn't done when Dad played it on the violin.

Their Mum was upstairs, resting, her pregnancy having made her need to take a nap.  Which was why Dad had brought out all three of his instruments.  The double bass had been a gift from Mum for Christmas, and Dad said he needed more practice to be as good as he once was.  So it currently was on a stand in the corner. Lily had to wonder how good he'd been.  The violin was put aside and the guitar pulled back in front.  Lily liked her father's guitar playing best.

With his deepest chest voice, her Dad began to sing along with his guitar.  "Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen."  As he did so, Lily looked back to the parlor entrance to see that Draco had changed into a Chelsea t-shirt and a pair of a bit faded jeans.  "When the snow lay round about deep and crisp and even."  Her siblings joined in, but Lily had missed Dad's nod to join in.  "Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel."  Draco's hair was no longer perfectly styled like it had been at the funeral and when he'd arrived, but a bit askew from pulling the shirt over his head.  "When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel."

Her siblings went silent as the next verse was King Wencelas's words.  "Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou knowst it, telling."  Lily's attention was more on Draco, though she didn't know why. yonder peasant, who is he, where and what his dwelling?"  His right hand rubbed his neck, his head tilted to look down a bit, as if he was unsure what to do.

Harry took up the next verse, his arm going around Draco's shoulders.  "Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain."  Draco seemed to suddenly relax.  "Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes fountain."  Harry looked at Draco, smiled and then gently pushed Draco into the parlor.

Her father was already taking up the next verse.  "Then bring me flesh and bring me wine."  Draco somehow ended up sitting down right next to Lily.  "Bring me pine logs hither."  Lily looked back at him, then quickly away.  "Thou and I will see him dine."  Why couldn't she meet his gray eyes?  "When we bear them thither."  Why was her face suddenly warm?

Draco sat down between Harry and Ron in the family box at Chudley's home field in Exmoor.  Sean Cornfoot was still greeting the other classmates that he'd invited to see his father seek against Falmouth.   Among the faithful, it was hoped that the Cannons could make two wins in a row against the Falcons, especially since the Falcons were on an unprecedented twenty-two game losing streak whose likes had not actually been met or exceeded by the Cannons.  Those supporting the Falcons, on the other hand, well, a win against the Cannons was expected.

At the moment, Sean was greeting Faye.  Susan hadn't been able to come.  She had a prescheduled visit to her best friend Hannah's house. Neville hadn't arrived yet.  Ron's little sister Ginny was also tagging along, and had managed to embarrass Sean's father by catching the loose snitch in the box.  

"How is Brad this morning," Draco asked Harry.

"Feeling a little better," Harry replied. Draco had seen how beat up Brad had been by the Menaces on the street. "That bruise balm you recommended really helped."

"And were the Menaces taken care of?" Draco asked.  As he'd been leaving from his time at the Dursley's three sets of parents had been arriving. 

"What happened to Brad?" Ginny asked as she sat down on the other side of Harry.

"Dennis got mad at Brad because he brought to our Aunt Marge's attention that he wasn't handling his dog Gnasher correctly," Harry explained.  "His parents sent Gnasher to Aunt Margie's friend the Colonel who does dog retraining. Yesterday morning the Colonel came to talk to talk to the Creeveys.  I don't know what he said, but afterwards he gathered Godwin and Crispin and decided to take it out on Brad.  He's all bruised up, and even limping a bit."

"Ouch," Ginny commented.  "Sounds like he's worse off than the time Ron and I fell off Dad's shed roof while fighting and Mum made us heal naturally for a few days."

"Don't remind me Ginny," Ron said, turning towards Draco.  "Mum believes in consequences.  You fight your brother or sister, she'll make sure didn't break anything, and then let you think about the pain you just caused a while before she does anything about it.  Did your Aunt Petunia do anything about it?"

"Aunt Petunia's too pregnant to really do much," Harry said.  "Dudley said he talked to Mister Creevey.  I know Carrie called the Creeveys, Polkiss, and Adams Families.  She told them that it was more than our court on the street could handle.  That apparently really impressed the parents. Not that Mister Polkiss needed that.  Apparently he'd caught the beat down from an upstairs window, and Godwin's older siblings were not letting him get away with it.  All of the Menaces are grounded. Mister Polkiss is even making Godwin wear formal attire and keep it pristine everywhere for the next month.  And unlike you, Draco, Godwin hates being dressed up."

"Hey, I just wear what Mum provides me," Draco said. He'd never really thought about what he wore.  It would just be out there for him. "I've never really had clothes like what you gave me yesterday.  I'm going to have to get my own jeans and t-shirts.  It is so much more comfortable than ... what did you call it?"

"Edwardian pinstriped frock coat," Harry said.  "Though at least someone managed to provide a better shirt than the high collared one that goes with that era. Someone has to do something about the recommended attire examples for going outside the wizarding world."

Draco looked down at his shoes, very expensive dragon skin shoes, not at all comfortable compared to Harry's spare sneakers, then up, "Actually, the collar on mine was detachable, and I kind of threw it away before Mum saw it," Draco admitted.  "And after seeing your family, Harry, I am so going to have to convince Mum to get me some muggle shirts."

"Oh most certainly," Ron said.  "You come to the Burrow in that formal attire, and my twin older brothers will have you in the pig stye."

"They're not that bad, Ron," Ginny said. 

"I'm glad you're coming over tomorrow, Draco," Ron said, his eyes focused on his sister.  "I need someone to counter Ginny, Looney, and Lily."

"Don't you dare call Luna, Looney," Ginny shot back.  "She's my friend, and I don't go around calling your friends crazy.  She lost her mother last year, Ron.  You were at the funeral, and you know she took it hard. If she wants to create creatures like her mother used to tease her with to have some fun, it is not a reason to call her crazy!"

Draco looked at Ron, who was taking a deep gulp.  "Okay, I'll be nice to Luna."

"You better," Ginny said.  "It looks like they're about to release the snitch."

Draco directed his attention to the center of the pitch.  The Referee, Verittas Vitallia, who had been brought in from Europe to head the core of Quidditch Referees after the bribery scandal a decade ago.  Draco didn't know much about the scandal, he just knew that if Vitallia was the referee, it meant that it was somehow an important match.  The two center chasers came to join the referee, the snitch already released. Vitallia had the quaffle in his hand, and whistle in his mouth.  Toss and blow, the game had begun.

Ron Weasley stood nervously by the fireplace awaiting his friend Draco. It was not something he'd expected that he'd be doing.  Oh, he'd had dreams of perhaps inviting Harry to visit, which he was, having already arrived.  That had been a fevered dream, though after he'd found that seat on the Hogwarts Express, it had been less of one.

Harry had come over with two of his cousins, Lily and Violet, They were seeing his sister Ginny.  Harry was currently over with Ron's Mum while they awaited Draco, taking a turn stirring the stew.  Harry apparently didn't mind taking a turn stirring the pot.  Ron preferred not to. 

A glance out the window revealed that Luna had apparently come over to join Ginny and the Dursley Sisters, though to be perfectly honest, Ron thought that Ginny looked more like a sister to Lily and Luna more to Violet than Lily did to Violet, at least from a distance.  He looked back at the fireplace, as the flames suddenly turned green.

Ron's first thought when seeing Draco Malfoy was that he had no sense of proper attire.  Arriving at the Burrow wearing a black satin outer robe, really.  He did have a pair of muggle sneakers on, at least.  Draco was slumped and sort of stumbled onto the hearth.  His eyes were reddened and his usually immaculate hair was messier than Harry's.  Ron stepped up and hugged Draco.  It was clear that Draco wasn't used to being hugged, with the way he stiffened before relaxing into the hug. 

As soon as Ron ended the hug, he was replaced by his mother.  "Welcome to the Burrow," she said.  Ron could tell that his mother's usual strong hug was most certainly more than Draco was ready for.  "You a much too thin, and you most certainly need some sun.  Ron why don't you take Draco and Harry off to the pond.  Bill is out there."  She ended the hug and Draco looked like he was going to fall for a second.

"Come on, Draco, Harry," Ron said, putting his arm around Draco.  "We can have some fun around the pond area."  They began to walk out of the Burrow, Harry just behind. "Hopefully my sister and her friends won't bother us.  Though somehow I got on Ginny's bad side the morning.  I'm not really sure how, so I can't promise that."

Ron felt quite lucky that they managed to get all the way to the pond without running into his sister and her friends.  Bill was waiting for them there.  The pond was frozen over, and judging from Bill's expression and transfiguration of his boots, he'd assured that it was thick enough to skate on.

"Skating?" Draco asked.

"Can you skate?" Ron asked.  "I can teach you if you can't."

"Can I skate?" Draco replied with a big grin, as his boots were transfigured. Within moments, Draco was skating around the edges of the pond.

"Oh, another speed demon," Ron groaned as Harry joined Draco's laps.  He stepped on to the ice and skated a bit inward so he wouldn't be in Draco and Harry's path."Come on, this is more than just a place to race."

"Oh really?" Draco said suddenly turning a bit tighter, allowing Harry to skate past him before going into a jump where he twisted around a least twice before landing going backwards and nearly falling.  "I am so out of practice."

Ron watched with surprise as Draco flipped the direction he was facing as he skated, his expression one of pure glee.  "Out of practice?  How?"

"Mother taught me," Draco said coming to a stop next to Ron.  "You should see her on the ice.  I swear she does it with magic, but she says it's just long practice.  I don't get to skate nearly as often in the last year. Father didn't see it as appropriate for his heir."  His expression dropped into a sad frown, his eyes blinking slowly.

"Well, don't think you need to worry about that now," Harry said, coming stop beside Draco and placing his hand on Draco's left shoulder. 

"Yeah, you're here to have fun today," Ron said.  "And if that's what you can do when you're out of practice..."

Draco smiled, and sped away, building up speed for another jump.  It was easy to tell that Draco was embracing the time to just do something he enjoyed.

"Don't look now, but the girls appear to have discovered the frozen pond," Harry said.  

Draco did two jumps in a row, then twirled around.  There was jut pure joy in his eyes. He wasn't trying to go fast, or really do anything.  That was when Violet Dursley skated by.  It looked like she was quite a skater herself, doing a single rotation in a jump right in Draco's view.  The next thing he knew, Draco had pulled Violet into his embrace, and they were skating together, hand in hand.

Ron had never seen anything like it, as his sister joined the skaters on the frozen pond, cutting right across Harry's path, and causing him to grin back in challenge.  Luna and Lily were on the pond swiftly as well, and Ron soon lost his focused examination of Draco as he was silently coerced into playful skating among friends.
 

Justin smiled as Draco looked in rapture at the ballet preforming at Royal Albert Hall.  He'd deliberately down played the venue, as being a little theater that his family owned a box at.  He hadn't lied about it being within walking distance, though. He was hoping that Mister Rodney, the town house butler knew where photographs could be developed quickly. 

"A little theater in the neighborhood," Draco said, looking at Justin during a moment's pause in the ballet.  "This is not little."

"It is in the neighborhood," Justin said, glancing at his mother who was accompanying them.  His mother was trying not to laugh as they sat in the .  "And there are bigger places you can see shows."

"Please, Justin, I am not entirely unknowledgeable about the muggle world," Draco said.  "I can recognize a certain royal's nose in what has to be the royal box over there with the two boys. This is not some little theater in an ordinary neighborhood."

Justin looked towards that box.  "Uncomfortable over there," he murmured.  

"Yeah ... I'm probably going to have to pay more attention to that, but this ballet is not bad.  Music is quite catchy actually," Draco said. 

"I'm pretty sure that the Hufflepuff String Quartet can play most of it," Justin said.  "It's kind of hard to avoid in some places.  You need an instrumental to play in the background during the Christmas season, you play the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies."

"It's kind of catchy.  Wait ... is that Roger down there?" Draco said.  

"You didn't check the program, did you?" Justin said.  "This why he'd been leaving Hogwarts twice a week with special permission during December. I thought you knew?"

"In case you hadn't notice, I was bit preoccupied this month," Draco replied. "I'm lucky I remembered to pack my trunk."

"Fair," Justin said. "Roger's going to be spending the night with us. I hope you don't mind.  I forgot that Mum had offered our house for any time he's doing The Nutcracker."

"I don't mind," Draco said.  "It's nice to have more people around.  The manor is way too quiet."

"And you want to be away from the paperwork," Justin added.

"That too, but I'm really glad all of you have been making sure I'm okay," Draco said.  "Though Mother is complaining about Mrs. Weasley's biscuits making her fat. Not that I'm going to tell Mrs. Weasley."

"True, those are really good biscuits ."

Neville was glad that he'd managed to get so many of his friends to come over for New Year's Eve.  They were all in the conservatory waiting midnight, listening to the Witching Hour on Wizarding Wireless.  He smiled as he sipped his chilled butter beer, taking a moment as host to make sure everyone was doing alright.

He'd invited more than just the Hufflepuffs, and had been quite surprised when Hermione Granger had accepted the invitation for the sleepover at Longbottom Manor, or as the flue system called it, Froggy Bottom, a name Neville's Father had given to the private connection. His grandmother was not exactly a fan of the name, but she couldn't bring herself to change the name, and Neville didn't plan on doing so either.  He certainly wasn't going to replace that sign of a frog with a top hat sipping a glass wine.

Hermione away from school seemed to be a lot more relaxed.  She was over with Susan, reclining on chair, actually giggling about something.  He hadn't heard any English word from either of them in the last few minutes.  Apparently they both knew Latin, and furthermore, knew that both Ron and Roger didn't.

"... next on the Witching Hour we have a hit originally by Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblins covered this year by the great Celestina Warbeck, one of three songs she has in the top ten this week. 'Goblin Pies Aren't Available' A twenty-two week number one hit in 1951 for the Hobgoblins, beginning a ninety-nine week stretch that the Hobgoblins had at the top of the charts with six different songs.  It's still a stable of Hobgoblin concerts even under their new front man, Waylon Frankly, who just really doesn't have the voice for it.  Warbeck does, and her version is up two spots this week ..."

"Chittlock's right on that," Roger opined from his seat on the bench around the orange tree, Neville's grandmother's favorite plant in the conservatory.  Grandmother did like her fresh orange in the morning and that tree hadn't failed her in a decade.  "Frankly just doesn't have the voice."

"I don't know, I do like the way he sung 'Bagnold Must Go' last year," Draco said, before taking a deep sip of his butter beer.  "Oh, Ron, thank your mother for the chocolate chip biscuits she keeps sending to my house.  I don't know how she knows I'm about to run out."

"Charm on the jar," Ron said.  "Mum is always good about making sure the biscuits are well stocked."

"Okay, Bagnold was a great song for Frankly," Roger replied.  "It was real shame that dirge 'The Minister's Mask' snuck in at the last minute to take number one last year."

"Oh, I'm not going to complain about that," Neville jumped in.  "Fudge is pale reflection for a minister, but if it wasn't for 'The Minister's Mask' we'd have Crouch as minister.  I'll take Harold Ravenscroft getting number one even if he is a prima donna who doesn't do autographs.  I may be biased though."

"I understand that your grandmother issued a veto on Crouch last time," Harry said. 

"He was one vote short of a ban to run again for three years," Neville said.  "And by the way, Gran's vetoing Uncle Aggie."

"Good, I told her she should," Harry said.

"Hey! Enough politics," Justin said from the table where he was refilling his butter beer.  "If I wanted politics, I would have gone with my grandfather to that boring event with that idiot the Member of Parliament from Huntington."

"That would be The Right Honorable John Major, the Prime Minister," Hermione interrupted her conversation which had drawn in both Faye Dunbar and Sean Cornfoot.  "That would have been something that my parents wouldn't let me out of."

"My father is not a Tory, so I can get out of it," Justin said as the song ended on the wireless.

"... and now for a catchy little tune by the Hobgoblins, but featuring their lutist, Tevya, in the lead vocal role, with Frankly taking up the fiddle.  It's quite a catchy tune that I've been hearing all over Diagon Alley.  Tevya apparently had to be forced to take the lead after Frankly lost his voice before they were about to record.  It's a shame, because there is only one voice I've heard better singing it, and I'm afraid that I out her, her mother may sue me more for than she did the publisher of those books ..."

"Oh, not 'Totally Unauthorized,'" Dudley Dursley said from where he was raiding the biscuits.  Since this was the first time Harry had been to Longbottom Manor he'd had to have one of his cousins come with him.  Neville was rather glad that Harry had chosen Dudley and Gran had approved.  "Iris has been singing that song constantly.  She even got it stuck in Primrose's head for a while."

"It's a good song, though," Harry said.  "And don't say you haven't been singing it too. And if I like them, and I do, I don't think anyone can object to the lyrics.  Aunt Petunia is trying to get that ghostwriter to post her own stories about a fictional character instead of me after that song about the revelations her suit against the Boy-Who-Live books revealed."

"I know," Dudley said.  "Someone decided that Violet and I needed to be in on the pitch meetings. It's apparently going to be a ten book series at least, after the song came out."

"Aberforth?" Harry queried.

"Aberforth," Dudley said, coming up next to Draco and putting an arm around him.  "So, Draco have you ever met the Headmaster's brother?"

"No." Draco said.  "Is he anything like the Headmaster?"

Dudley, Harry, Sean, and Faye all broke out with laughter. "Aberforth?" Sean managed to get out before laughter ended his ability to speak.  Sean was laughing so hard that he put a hand on his belly.  It took a bit before they stopped,  allowing one verse to be clearly heard:

"Totally unauthorized, but oh what a ride!
The Boy-Who-Lived’s back with a wand by his side.
Ghost-written glory, a magical disguise,
Totally fake, but it’s spellbinding lies."

Dudley, his arm still around Draco, something that Dudley seemed to always managed to do with anyone he talked to, finally was able to speak.  "Aberforth is one of the three Potter Family Trustees along with Mum and Remus Lupin. He runs a bar in Hogsmeade, and once got in trouble for charming goats illegally somehow.  Great with sleight of hand, and getting people to talk.  He taught Harry and I most of what we know. And he's actually the younger brother."

"There is a big gap between him and the Headmaster," Harry said.  "Which reminds me, Neville, I need to have you put something in your trunk that Aberforth wants me to give to his brother on a certain day.  Sirius and I think he's onto me as the conduit."

"You were how that bowling ball got on the Headmaster's chair in the Great Hall?" Neville asked.

"It may have passed through my hands," Harry admitted. 

"... at number five we have a new song from the Hobgoblins, which a tour de force for their current lead singer.  And I think everyone will agree that Waylon Frankly really nailed this one. 'The Prewitt Twin's last stand' ... "

"The Prewitt Twins?" Ron said. "They can't mean my uncles Gideon and Fabian?"

"... In the dark of the night, with wands in their hands,
Gideon and Fabian took their final stand.
Against the Death Eaters, they charged with might,
Firing unforgivable curses into the night....

"That is my uncles," Ron said.  "They died fighting Death Eaters, but I never thought they were big heroes, except for to Mum, their little sister, of course."

"... With a phoenix’s cry, they came to fight,
Protecting the innocent, defending the light.
The world may tremble, but they won't back down,
The Prewett Twins, they own this town. ...."

"Wow, Ron, your uncles are a top five song," Roger said. "And yeah, I hadn't heard of them until today."

"I wonder if that's the song that Mum keeps turning off when it comes on the Wireless the last couple of days," Ron said, as they quieted to listen to the song

"... Until the end, they fought side by side,
Facing the darkness, with nowhere to hide.
A sacrifice made, but their courage remains,
As long as we remember, their legacy sustains ...

"And when the Death Eaters came too strong,
It was their final breath that carried us on.
An the arrival of the twins real fear
Their little sister Molly, with fire in her eyes. ..."

As the chorus began again, Harry caught Ron's eyes.  "Oh no, don't even think of it, Ron.  You're not the person to bring that verse up with your mother."

Neville caught the mischievous expression on Ron's face, normally one that Neville expected on Fred and George, not Ron, though he'd once seen it on Percy as he exited the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class Room.  Neville had found it entirely wrong on Percy's face, but Ron, less so.

"Oh I'm not going to do that," Ron said.  "But Mum and Dad have a date night tonight, and Bill is watching Ginny and the Twins.  I'm sure that none of them will be able to avoid 'little sister Molly with fire in her eyes.'  I'm pretty certain that Ginny will be collaborating with Fred and George on it."  He paused for just one moment, then continued.  "And I want to be there to see Mum's reaction.  Can I borrow an owl, Neville?"

"Go right ahead," Neville said. "Out the east door, door to the owl tower is the first one."

"... at number is four is something truly unique, 'Constant Vigilance' is sung by a singer only identified as the unknown auror. They are backed up by the hit wizard band and unspeakable chorus. I think the signers must be Gryffindors, but also be more paranoid than their subject, the greatest living Auror, Alastor Moody, who according to the Ministry is responsible for bringing in two-thirds of the current occupants of Azkaban ..."

"I hate this one," Susan announced.  "I know exactly who 'the unknown auror' is and he's not getting away with that travesty of a song. Aunt Amelia thinks it's good for the department, but I just can't not see that guy's face every time I hear it, and it ruins it. I won't ruin it for anyone else, though."

"I don't know anyone in the Auror force, but I'll trust you on that," Dudley said.  "I don't think Lily has heard this song yet.  She's got a lot aurors she knows, since she got a hold of Uncle James's casebook."

"She got a hold of an auror's case book?" Susan said.  "Those are blood encoded.  Harry might be read it, but Lily's not ..."

"Yes she is my sister," Harry interrupted.  "It's complicated but Mum had some magic that transferred Lily from her womb to Aunt Petunia's on her death.  Hermione, I think Mrs. Galleghers at number twelve has figured it all out. She's a Hufflepuff from the class of '43.   I'll get you her phone number.  She's really good at accidental magic reversal."

"I'll hold you to it," Hermione said.  "It sounds like it's an interesting bit of magic, and for once might actually have reliable sources, unlike those books you pointed out on the Express."

"These ginger snaps, are those from Ron's Mum too?" Dudley asked.

"No, those are actually my contribution," Hermione said.  "I had to make them myself with just Dad watching after Mum got called in to emergency dental surgery.  I really hope they turned out well.  I've been afraid to taste them.  Dad said they were okay."

"They're great," Dudley said.

"You did this yourself?" Faye asked.  "You've got to teach us how.  I know how to get into the kitchens and get use of the ovens at Hogwarts."

"Think ovens are a bit different in the wizarding world," Hermione said.  "We might have a few bad batches.  I guess I can try to bake them some Saturday, when I'm caught up on studying.  I wonder if I could make bread sticks.  I miss good garlic bread sticks at Hogwarts."

"You make bread sticks?" Sean said.  "They sell them at the Cannon's grounds.  You make them and every Cannon's fan in Hogwarts will fall down and worship you."

"What are every Cannon's fan going to do?" Ron said, having just re-entered the room.  "Thanks, Neville, got a quick note off to Bill."

"Hermione knows how to make ginger snaps and bread sticks," Sean said.

"You know how to make bread sticks," Ron said, his eyes wide.  "Marry me. Only place I've got good bread sticks is when Charlie comes to visit.  Mum gave up after he perfected them."    

''... at number three is a new artist, who Warbeck herself says is the best voice in the last decade, an angel who shares her voice with us mere mortals, the appropriately named Angelica White gives us 'Take a Seat at Old Ravenclaw' a song that Warbeck herself sent over to her ..."

"Oh, this one never seems to stop being played in the tower," Hermione said.  "Probably on its way to being overplayed.  But we Ravenclaws just don't get many songs about us ... unless you count all those Grey Ghost dirges.  Someday I really would like a happy song for our house ghost."

"I really think your house got the short end of the stick when it comes to house ghosts," Susan said. 

"I will not disagree," Hermione said.  "Oh that is a wonderful voice."

"...Candles glow on ancient stone,
Echoes hum a mindful tone.
Knowledge whispers, soft and clear,
Only the curious dare to hear ...

"That most certainly a Ravenclaw song," Roger said.  "It's good, but it's Ravenclaw."

"... Full of wit and eager to learn,
For every question, the answers burn.

(Ahh... wisdom calls...)
Forever learning, forever free."

"Wait was that last little bit, the wisdom calls, Warbeck?" Faye asked.  "I need to know."

"... And now the third song with Warbeck on, after that little line in the last, 'The Gryffindor Legacy' which also is our second appearance of the Prewitt twins tonight.  This song is debuting all the way up in second place. Warbeck says this was one of those songs that once she saw the lyrics it was record all the way, even if it does include that reprobate who broke her youngest daughter's heart.  I'm pretty sure that she was speaking of Sirius Black in this case.  None of the others really fit.  I'm told it's written by a first time writer who knew all those referenced in it, a R. J. Lupin.  If this is what he turns for his first song on the charts, I hope his friend Padfoot can convince him to write more.  The opening verse is not credited to Lupin but to the Sorting Hat, which I am told is the nineteenth time that old hat has been in the top ten ..."

"...  You might belong in Gryffindor, 
Where dwell the brave at heart, 
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry 
Set Gryffindors apart. 

"Remember the Prewitt Twins, 
Whose sacrifice will never be forgotten, 
Their courage, their love, their defiance, 
A legacy of heroes unbegotten. ..."

"Oh Mum's going to love that one." Ron said.  "No reference to her, but honoring her brother."

"... Remember James Potter, who stood tall, 
Protecting home and kin with all, 
A heart of gold, a will of steel, 
For his family, he made the ultimate deal. ...

Neville looked over at Harry, there was a tear in Harry's right eye.  It slowly went down his cheek.

"... Remember Lily Potter, pure and true, 
Who gave her life so love could bloom, 
Her sacrifice, a timeless flame, 
A mother’s love, eternal in name. ..."

Dudley was now next to Harry, who had turned into his cousin's arms.  Neville noticed that everyone seemed to be giving the cousins space.   He nodded to Dudley.  It was memories in song that really got to one's grief. There were songs associated with his father that brought Gran to tears.  Then Neville heard the next verse

"... Remember Frank and Alice Longbottom, 
Cursed, insane, but never broken, 
Their love for their son, still unspoken, 
A legacy that lives in the heart of every Gryffindor token. ..."

His parents, their sacrifice made it to the song about remembering the honor and sacrifice.  Their condition had always been something he couldn't bring up.  The fact that they had gone insane trying to protect him.  Neville felt a set of arms go around him, Draco's, and then Harry's and Dudley's.  The emotions from the song, and his loss that he'd unwilling to publically admit now publically exposed.  He sniffled, and tears came out.  He missed the entire chorus but somehow managed to collect himself just as the next verse began.

"... Remember Sirius Black, the innocent soul, 
Imprisoned, betrayed, but still whole, 
Fighting for justice, against the unjust, 
A friend, a hero, his heart was just. 

Remember the Gryffindors, 
Who stand with courage through the storm, 
The brave, the bold, the ones who dare, 
Their legacy will forever declare..."

"Okay, my godfather is going to run with that one," Harry said. "And I can with great authority say that Sirius Black hasn't been an innocent soul since his third year at Hogwarts.  Do not ask me how I know.  I'm still looking into brain bleach."

Neville straightened up, signaling to Draco, Dudley, and Harry that he'd had enough of hug for now.  He was pretty sure was going to break down again the next time he heard that song, though.  That verse hit.

"... and now at the top for the last week of 1991, debuting at number one actually, is a second hit from Angelica White, 'You Belong in Hufflepuff.'  I have feeling as a Hufflepuff that this one is going to be used after sorting every year, not to mention any time a Hufflepuff is questioned about it's qualifications for membership. There is nothing like a good Hufflepuff huddle song, and this one, White has hit it to the moon and stars..."

"Oh I've heard this one earlier this week," Faye said.  "Professor Sprout is going to want those words. We're going to end up knowing this one by heart in the Warren."

"You belong in Hufflepuff,
Where hearts are kind and true,
Through toil and trial, they stand tall,
In gold and black hue.

"They are just and they are loyal,
Through the darkest, longest night,
With steady hands and patient souls,
They turn their work to light.

"In gardens green and kitchens warm,
They hum a gentle tune,
The hearth of Hogwarts, steady flame,
That brightens every room.

"No fame they chase, no pride they boast,
Their courage quiet and clear,
For every friend, they give their most,
In love, they persevere.

"They are just and they are loyal,
Through the darkest, longest night,
With steady hands and patient souls,
They turn their work to light.

"In every seed, a dream will grow,
Through patience and through care,
Hufflepuffs will always show,
That kindness conquers there.

"So raise your cup to Hufflepuff,
To hearts that never spoil,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,
And unafraid of toil."