Chapter 2

30th September, 2008

John Smith sat hunched over in an ambulance, a paramedic pressing a cloth roughly against his broken nose. He wished the dratted woman would leave him alone but it seemed nobody was particularly interested in listening to him. His ribs ached slightly where one of the hooligans who had accosted him had delivered a vicious kick.

'Hold this in place,' the paramedic said bluntly.

John's hands were cuffed awkwardly before him, the metal bands digging painfully into his wrists, but he managed to clumsily keep the cloth in place as the paramedic turned away from him. He scowled darkly at the woman's back.

'Keep your head down,' the woman snapped as she caught sight of him.

He shot her a dark look before dipping his head once more. He'd seen the wariness in the woman's eyes. She was afraid of him. It was the same wariness that had been in the eyes of the witnesses as they'd stopped him from leaving the scene.

He let out a frustrated breath. The injustice of being arrested – as the clear victim of an attack – ate at him. Not for the first time he caught himself wishing he'd skipped work this morning.

The paramedic was talking to a newcomer, but John ignored them both. He'd had enough of bureaucracy for one day.

'Perhaps I could have a moment of your time Mister Smith.'

It was not a demand, rather a request. Intriguingly the man sounded curious. Surprised, John looked up.

The man let out a gasp as he caught sight of John for the first time, stepping back in surprise.

'Professor?'

John stared at the man before him. He had long ago abandoned the idea that he would ever recall who he truly was. Whoever he had been before his accident – that man had died. No one had ever come forward as next of kin. No one had cared to find him. It was something that had haunted John for ten years.

'Have we met?' John asked, frowning slightly as he studied the man before him.

He was dressed casually, yet there was an air of authority about him. He stood tall, with a mop of messy black hair and slightly lopsided glasses. It was his eyes though that caught John's attention. They were bright green. His heart clenched as he stared into the man's eyes.

When he'd first woken up in hospital, John had had several incidences of 'memory triggers' as the doctors had called it. Occasionally something about someone or a particular action would give him a sense of déjà vu. The doctors were hopeful at first but John's amnesia persisted and eventually he'd stopped reacting to stimuli. It had been ten years since he'd last felt the sensation but the young man's eyes meant something to John – he was sure of it.

John scowled impatiently as the man remained silent. Judging by his expression it seemed the young man was thinking very quickly about how best to answer. Finally he looked up, meeting John's expectant gaze.

'Yes,' he answered uncomfortably.

'When?' John demanded, unable to disguise his desire to hear the man's answer.

Again the man was slow to answer, fixing John with a grave look.

'I last saw you ten years ago, but you weren't John Smith when I knew you.'

The words washed over John in waves, drowning out his thoughts as he tried to comprehend the enormity of the man's answer.

Not John Smith

He had always known that he was not really John Smith – that he was someone else. But now that this man had confirmed his beliefs John didn't know what to do. Without his memories John Smith was the only identity he had. And for someone who could not recall who he was he needed John Smith.

The anger and bitterness that was always so close to the surface these days rose up at the thought that this man was attempting to remove his identity. To once more leave him nameless and alone. It was too good to be true, he thought bitterly. He had spent years waiting for answers – but now he wasn't sure he could believe this man's assertion that he knew who John Smith really was.

'Don't lie to me,' he snarled, lurching forward to awkwardly grab the neck of the man's shirt with his cuffed hands. 'Who are you?' he demanded.

John stood a few inches taller than the man but his actions didn't seem to intimidate the man at all. Instead, if John wasn't mistaken, he seemed unsurprised, almost relieved by John's response. Grasping John's wrists firmly the man released himself from his hold.

'You have my word that I'll answer your questions,' he said solemnly. 'But not here.'

John frowned and watched as the man glanced around before moving to pull something out of his inner pocket. Without realising it, John copied the movement. The man's eyebrows lifted as he realised what John was doing.

'I doubt you'll let me get away with this,' the man muttered to himself as he surreptitiously pointed a thin stick at John.

The last thing John saw before darkness closed in around him was the man stepping forward to catch him as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

XXXX

Harry sighed as he took the full weight of the unconscious Snape, leaning him against the ambulance as he took stock of the situation. He had considered asking Snape to come with him but the man was far too hostile, suspicious and stubborn. He doubted he'd have been able to get Snape to his car without some kind of altercation. In the end he'd decided a silent Stupefy would give him enough time to transport Snape to a safe house and get hold of Madam Pomfrey. He did not doubt that Snape was in definite need of a Healer.

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he held Snape in place. He was more or less about to abduct Snape but the shock of finding Severus Snape in the Muggle world left him few options. The current state of Snape's accidental magic left him unpredictable and unstable. It was far safer for all concerned Harry thought, if he took Snape with him.

'Anderson,' he called over his shoulder to where Greg was standing with Albus.

The little boy was giggling and it looked to Harry that Greg had been playing 'tickle monster' with his son. Smiling, he watched as the pair approached. Greg noticed the unconscious Snape immediately. He frowned slightly at the sight but he did not question Harry.

'Could you put Al into his seat,' Harry instructed, pulling Snape into a standing position. 'It seems Mr Smith will be accompanying me.'

'Harry...'Greg began unsurely.

'It's fine Greg,' Harry placated. 'I think he'll forgive me eventually.'

Pulling Snape's arm over his own shoulder, after casting a subtle feather-light charm, Harry carefully guided the unconscious man to his car. Greg had already strapped Al in, but he hurried round to help Harry manoeuvre Snape into the car. Checking both Al and Snape were secured Harry shut the car door before turning to Greg once more.

'It would be best if no one knew this man was here,' Harry said gravely.

'Of course Harry.'

Harry nodded before moving to the driver's door.

'Thanks for your help Greg,' Harry said warmly, aware that the other man was still unsure about seemingly abducting the unconscious John Smith. 'You'll have to come over sometime soon, meet my daughter.'

He grinned cheekily as Greg's mouth dropped open.

'Harry you moron,' he complained loudly. 'You said you'd tell me!'

Greg was smiling bemusedly now, offering his hand.

'Congratulations!'

The pair shook hands; Harry grinning like an idiot.

'We'll talk soon,' Harry promised before getting into the car.

It had started to rain again and Harry watched as Greg ran for his own car, pausing only to wave to Al. Looking over his shoulder Harry met the expectant and inquisitive gaze of his two year old son.

'Who that?' the boy asked.

'A friend of mine,' he replied, smiling at his son. 'You ready to go home?'

'Yes!'

Harry chuckled at his son's exuberant reply, before starting his car and pulling swiftly away from the curb. Within minutes he was outside London all together; racing along a country road in the West Country of England.

Few people were aware that Harry Potter owned two properties. Even fewer were aware that the second was to be found in Godric's Hollow. It was outside his Godric's Hollow cottage though that Harry pulled up. He had purchased the house not long after he and Ginny had been married. The cottage his parents had owned was technically Harry's now but he had left that house as a testament to his parents sacrifice that Halloween night. It remained untouched, on the other side of the village from his current abode.

He had initially purchased the cottage as a safe house for his family. A place they could slip away to should the media attention ever get too much. Within a year of owning the property though the cottage had become a holiday home for the Potter family, and they often spent weeks of the year here. The cottage's secluded location and massive backyard meant the boy's were free to fly whilst Ginny had free range with the garden.

'Hollow! Hollow!' Albus exclaimed excitedly from the backseat as he saw where they had pulled up.

Harry smiled fondly at the little boy's chant. Teddy and James had a habit of chanting excitedly for 'Godric's Hollow' whenever Harry announced they'd be spending a weekend away. Albus had yet to grasp the word 'Godric's' and so simply chanted 'Hollow' instead.

'That's right,' Harry said as he got out to let Al out. 'Run along inside, while I help my friend in.'

He watched Albus run inside before walking over to Snape's side of the car. Awkwardly he pulled the man out before simply casting 'Mobilicorpus'. Carefully Harry guided the unconscious man inside and straight up to the spare bedroom. Releasing the spell, Harry placed the unconscious man on top of the bedspread. Before he left he removed the handcuffs and with a quiet 'Episkey!' and a 'Terego!' fixed Snape's nose. At the door he hesitated before locking the room and moving back downstairs.

'Kreacher!' he called as he strode towards the living room, where he could hear Albus playing with his toy broom.

An instant later there was a 'pop' and the Potter's House Elf materialised before Harry, matching his pace automatically to Harry's.

'Master Harry,' the old elf greeted fondly. 'What can Kreacher do for you?'

'I must go to Hogwarts,' Harry explained. 'Professor Snape is currently in the spare bedroom; however he has lost his memories. He is unconscious at the moment but he may wake before I return. If he does, you must not let him see you Kreacher,' he impressed on the confused Elf, who was well aware of Harry's quest to find Snape.

'He has no idea about the Wizarding world,' Harry added in explanation. 'He won't be happy if he wakes to find himself in a strange house but it's important he doesn't see anything magical – including any of the boy's toys. I've locked the bedroom door though, so it shouldn't be a problem.'

'Kreacher must not go to Professor Snape,' the Elf repeated. 'Master Snape must not see any magic.'

'Thanks Kreacher.'

He was relieved Kreacher understood the orders – as bizarre as they may have seemed.

'Albus,' Harry called, gesturing for his son to come to him. 'I'm going to Hogwarts for a bit. Kreacher's going to look after you, alright? You know the rules – Kreacher is in charge.'

The little boy nodded, he was used to Kreacher looking after him at home.

'Bye-bye,' he said, giving his father a quick hug before racing back to his toy broomstick.

Harry smiled bemusedly at the quick dismissal before turning back to Kreacher.

'Keep an eye on Al,' he said, standing to leave. 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'

With that Harry let himself out, turning on the spot as he did so. Within moments he had reappeared beneath the winged boar gates of Hogwarts. Wrapping his cloak tightly about himself, he applied a disillusionment charm before starting the long trek up to the school.

XXXX

Hogwarts stood proudly before him – restored to its former glory after countless hours of work by witches, wizards and House Elves alike. Quietly Harry slipped inside the Entrance Hall. As always he paused on the threshold as he read the names of the fallen. A small fountain had been set beneath the base of the wall. For all those who gave their lives; we remember. Above the fountain the names had been engraved. Even now Harry found the list too long.

The sound of hundreds of voices issuing from the Great Hall reminded Harry that it was dinner time. He glanced fondly towards the doorway, where warm light was spilling outwards. Smirking he watched as a few Gryffindor rubies flew back into the top of the hour glass, marking a student's misdeeds. Turning his back to the light he passed the fountain and made his way up to the third floor. If he was lucky he'd catch Poppy before she left for dinner.

Entering the Wing he walked confidently towards her office but stopped abruptly as the office door opened and Poppy walked directly into him. Harry steadied her as she gasped in alarm, reminding Harry that he was still invisible. Quickly removing his disillusionment charm, Harry stepped back so that Poppy could see him.

'Merlin Harry,' she exclaimed, cuffing him over the head none to gently. 'If you ever startle me like that again...'

Harry laughed at her flabbergasted expression.

'I'm sorry,' he said genuinely, although the effect was ruined by his broad smile. 'I forgot I was still invisible. Didn't want to distract the students from their work,' he added cheekily at Poppy's disapproving look.

'And just what would bring the great Harry Potter to my humble doorstep this evening?' she asked sarcastically, smirking slightly at Harry's indignant expression.

Harry's expression became serious.

'Severus Snape.'

'What?'

She was studying him as though he'd gone mad. Poppy was well aware of Harry's determination to find Severus but after ten years she had long ago accepted that Severus was dead. It was something she truly regretted about the War: the fact that she had never been able to apologise.

Poppy had been his Healer for most of his life. She had treated his cuts and bruises and the occasional broken bone as a first year, all the time worrying just how the young boy managed to injure himself so often. Half the time she suspected he only ever came to her when Lily Evans dragged him in. Eventually he had stopped coming and Poppy had wondered what had caused the young boy to become so bitter so early in life. He'd graduated and Poppy had forgotten him. But he'd wandered back into her life as a staff member and then she had truly had her work cut out.

She only ever saw him when Albus found him unconscious by the school gates but she knew without a doubt that he was suffering – and terribly – under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As colleagues they had formed a rapport. Severus had an extraordinary talent for Potions and he and Poppy would often debate the finer arts of Healing. As the years passed they had become almost friends – or as close to as you could be with Severus Snape. But that had all ended the night Harry had told them all that Severus Snape had murdered Albus Dumbledore.

That final year at Hogwarts had been the most trying year of Poppy's life. Gone was the young man who would spend hours debating with her. He had been replaced instead with a cold-hearted and harsh man. Minerva had barely tolerated Severus as Headmaster. She had been constantly rebellious, forcing Severus to act ruthlessly to maintain his authority. But Poppy had watched him. Her colleague was gone but the patient remained. She had watched from the shadows as he grew gaunter and wearier with every passing day. He barely ate and she knew he did not sleep. She had once caught him in the corridors close to 3am. It was the only time she'd caught a glimmer of her old colleague that year. She'd challenged him.

'What are you doing?' she had asked suspiciously.

He was uneasy she'd realised. Something had happened that night which had unnerved him, for he couldn't quite hide how much her tone hurt him. He'd smiled bitterly at her question.

'My duty,' he'd answered simply and then almost as an afterthought he'd added, 'someone has to protect them...'

Days later she'd convinced herself that she'd imagined that last whisper...but knowing the truth now she knew how wrong she had been about Severus. Still she hadn't quite been able to shake the memory and so she had watched Severus more closely – but only as his Healer.

Severus had been the most infuriating patient she had ever had but she'd always had his interests at heart. In fact the only patient who had ever come as close to driving her mad was the young man who stood before her. And now Harry was here, telling her that he had found Severus Snape. Suddenly she felt the need to sit down.

Harry had been watching Poppy closely. The name had shocked her he could see and it seemed she was deeply lost in thought. Now though it looked as though she might faint. Hastily summoning a chair, Harry silently guided the surprised Medi-witch into a chair.

'I've found him,' he said quietly as Poppy finally seemed to remember he was in the room with her.

He could barely keep the grin off his face and he knew by that alone Poppy believed him.

'But where has he been?' she asked shakily, summoning a glass of water for herself.

Harry frowned uncomfortably at her question. It was going to be tricky to explain but he could only hope that Madam Pomfrey would be able to help Snape. Seeing that his expression was causing Poppy unnecessary alarm he hurried to answer.

'This is hard to explain,' he admitted. 'Perhaps I better start at the beginning...'

Poppy listened quietly to his explanation of his day, interrupting only once to scold him for not telling her the moment he'd arrived that Ginny had given birth.

'So, John Smith has no idea who he is?' Poppy mused quietly as Harry finished his explanation.

'None,' Harry admitted ruefully. 'There's nothing to suggest Snape has any idea about the Wizarding world or his place in it.'

'Exactly how did you get Severus to go with you?' Poppy asked suddenly, her tone suspicious.

'Err –,' Harry began.

Poppy raised an eyebrow at Harry's sudden incoherence. Sighing Harry prepared himself for the backlash he knew was coming.

'I may have stunned him,' he mumbled, studying the floor intently.

'You mean you abducted him!' Poppy shrieked. 'What exactly possessed you Harry. James. Potter.' – She punctuated his name with three deliberate and quite painful pokes – 'to stun an amnesiac man who has no idea who you are or what you are! He doesn't even know his name Harry!' she shouted in exasperation.

'I know, I know,' Harry said ashamedly. 'I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking!'

'That's obvious!' snorted Poppy, although she seemed to have calmed down somewhat.

'You know what he's like,' Harry continued, 'didn't believe a thing I was saying – demanded answers almost immediately. There was no way I could have convinced him to come with me without him doing something drastic. Besides his magic is unstable and out of his control. I don't think he even realises what he's been doing and might I remind you we were surrounded by muggles – whose memories I'd already modified once today. You know what accidental magic is like – the minute you get emotional your magic leaps to your defence!'

Poppy sighed as she took in Harry's defensive position. She knew he'd acted with Severus' best interests at heart but sometimes she wondered at his impulsive nature.

'Alright,' she said calmly. 'What did you have in mind?'

'He needs to be assessed,' Harry said calmly, switching into his professional mode with ease. 'Physically and mentally. He also needs to be told about the Wizarding world – which is where you come in. I'd appreciate having you present to act as a mediator when I speak with him. It's likely that he will react hostilely towards me. Besides I'd like your advice on how much to tell him.'

'That sounds reasonable,' Poppy agreed. 'You said he's been going as John Smith since his disappearance?'

Harry nodded.

'Very well, it would be best if you only address him as John or Mr Smith for now,' she instructed. 'Until I can assess the memory damage we need to keep things familiar for him. Unless he has memories of Severus Snape or it seems likely that he will regain that identity it would be best if we didn't question his identity any further. The mind is incredibly complex Harry,' she added at Harry's slightly crestfallen look, 'there's no saying what damage has occurred but regardless of the outcome of today, this man is not the Severus Snape we knew.'

Harry nodded, accepting Poppy's logic. He watched as the Medi-witch gathered a few potions together into a small bag before turning and looking expectantly towards Harry.

'Shall we?' she asked, preceding Harry out of the Hospital Wing.

'I just hope he hasn't woken up,' Harry muttered to himself before following Madam Pomfrey.

XXXX

John opened his eyes slowly as consciousness returned to him. The last thing he remembered was the odd young man grabbing him as he collapsed for no apparent reason. Groggily he took in his surroundings, realising immediately that he was in an unfamiliar room. Automatically he sat up – wincing as he did so. He'd forgotten his injured chest. Carefully he pulled himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, noticing in the process that his hands had been freed from the painful handcuffs. Bruises were starting to form where the cuffs had been too tight. Uneasily he stood, massaging his wrists as he assessed his surroundings without conscious thought. John had realised early on that it was an automatic habit that must have meant something to him before his accident. Now though, it meant nothing.

The room seemed normal enough although it was sparsely furnished. Still a feeling of trepidation filled John as he realised the man, who'd claimed to know him, had taken him against his will to an unknown location. Crossing to the door John rattled the handle but it did not budge. He was locked in.

The man might have removed his handcuffs but as far as John could tell he was being held captive. Crossing to the window, he looked out. It was clear the moment he looked out that he was no longer in London. As far as John could tell there were no houses within the vicinity. It seemed he had been removed to a completely remote area. With that realisation John wanted to get out. Some long forgotten instinct was telling him that it was not good for him to be captured. That he needed to find a way out – and fast.

Acting on instinct John tried the window. It was sealed, and on proper inspection he realised he was three floors up. Too high to risk jumping, he thought. He scanned the room, looking for something he could use but the room was infuriatingly bare. John crouched in the middle of the room as he felt his chest begin to tighten and his breathing rate increase. It was something that happened when he found himself in unfamiliar or dangerous situations – at times when he was scared or angry. He seemed to have no control over the anxiety and so he had developed the habit of crouching, to help himself calm down. If he managed to get his breathing under control, it would be fine. If not... he tried not to think about that. The last time he had lost control had been this morning.

He'd not slept well the previous evening. His dreams had been plagued by nameless faces and impossible actions. Many of his nightmares ended with a flash of green light as he watched a faceless man fall from a tower. Last night had been one of his worst. He'd woken after watching the faceless man fall, shivering and sweating profusely. He'd tried to grab the man but as always he'd fallen. In the end he'd given up trying to sleep and had instead spent the early hours of the morning pacing restlessly around his small flat.

His lack of sleep had caught up with him at work and colleagues and customers alike had been unimpressed with his scathing remarks and biting retorts. At lunch time his boss had sent him home with an ultimatum. You need to work your shit out John. You have the rest of the day to deal with whatever the hell has gotten into you. If you can't work it out don't bother showing up tomorrow.

John had been so annoyed at himself that he'd stormed out of Boots Pharmacy without a backward look. The worst of it was that he couldn't blame his boss for kicking him out – he'd have done the same.

Stupidly he'd made the mistake of using a few back alleys, as a shortcut, on his way home. It had been in one of the more unsavoury alleys that he'd picked up his tail. The two kids were wearing hoodies and John did not doubt that they would be carrying knives. He'd quickened his pace; taking the next left which he knew would take him out onto a high road. He had almost made it to the street when two figures had detached themselves from the entrance to the alley and John had found himself surrounded by four thugs. The biggest brute had kicked him behind the knees – forcing him to stumble. A particularly nasty looking wimp of a boy had then delivered a vicious kick straight to his ribs which had left him gasping for air in the mud. Some passerby had called out a warning to the thugs at that point but it hadn't stopped one of the kids from driving a fist into John's face.

In that moment several things had happened – none of which really made sense to John. All he really remembered was the feeling of his nose busting and blood flowing straight into his open mouth, causing him to choke before he got his breathing under control. Vaguely he'd been aware of two men in the distance running forwards to assist him but by the time they'd reached him the thugs had disappeared from his line of sight. It was only when he'd seen the wary look in his would-be-saviours eyes that he realised something strange had happened – that he'd lost control. He'd wanted to make a hasty escape but the two men had stopped him and John had ended up in his current predicament.

Crouched on the floor John's breathing rate was getting out of control. He needed to calm down but he couldn't. He was tired, his ribs ached and he was beyond frustrated. He needed to leave this house. Before John knew what he was doing he was approaching the door. Roughly he pulled down on the handle and to his utmost surprise the door yielded. John had expected the door to still be locked and hadn't been prepared for the sudden loss of resistance. He stumbled slightly as he indignantly fell out of the room and into the corridor.

Quickly he picked himself up before silently making his way to the staircase. There were several other rooms but all of them were open and empty as John passed them. Several looked as though they were bedrooms for small children. Stealthily he made his way down to the next floor; he wanted to find out as much as he could about the young man if he could.

It seemed as though the house was deserted though John thought as he finished checking the second floor. Most of the rooms had been locked on this floor and the ones that weren't had yielded nothing of interest.

Reaching the ground floor John stopped dead at the sound of a child laughing. Frowning slightly he moved towards the slightly ajar door that stood to his left. Pushing it open he stared in surprise at the sight of a two year old boy playing by himself. The boy looked up as he heard John enter and he realised with a start that the child was the son of his captor. The resemblance was uncanny; down to the familiar green eyes. Once again John felt his heart clench at the sight of them.

'Hello,' the boy said, staring curiously at John.

'Hello,' he replied automatically, his voice sounding rather weak.

'Your daddy's friend,' the child supplied, before turning back to his toy train.

John wondered if he'd perhaps misjudged the young man. It seemed unlikely that he bore him any ill will if he'd left his own son in the house with John. Still he couldn't help but wonder what sort of imbecile left a two year old alone in a house. John looked longingly towards the front door – this was his chance to escape. Some instinct held him in place though. There was something about the young man that stopped him from leaving. He knew this man – he was sure of it. And that was enough to keep him there because John Smith had never been sure of anything in his life.

Resigning himself to babysitting duty he moved towards the comfortable sofa and sat down. The little boy looked over at him curiously once more.

'Creature gone!' he said sadly, or that's what it sounded like to John.

He wondered vaguely what 'creature' was. As the sky's darkened outside John looked around for a light switch.

'What is wrong with this house? Where's the blasted light switch?' he exclaimed in exasperation as his search proved futile.

At his words the lights flickered to life. John jumped. Perhaps the lights are on a timer, he thought to himself. He knew it was a weak excuse though. Reseating himself he scowled as the little boy approached him.

'Where Daddy?' the child asked, leaning against John's legs, a picture book clutched in one hand.

Awkwardly John shifted the child away from him. He had no experience with young children and had no desire to start now.

'Story?' the boy asked hopefully, pulling himself up onto the couch beside John.

John tried to ignore him as the little boy attempted to sit next to him – and then to John's horror the child tried to climb into his lap.

'No,' he said gruffly, pushing the boy away from him.

He tried to ignore the child but the boy was oddly persistent, his green eyes fixed on John and filled with hope. Eventually John let out an exasperated sigh. For some reason he found it impossible to ignore the boy's beseeching expression. It was the blasted eyes, he realised.

'Fine,' he grouched, letting the boy move into his lap.

Picking up the picture book John opened it and began to read in a methodical voice.

XXXX

Harry walked up the path to his cottage, Poppy following him quietly. The light was on in the living room he noted.

'I'll just check on Al quickly,' he called over his shoulder as he waved his wand at the front door.

'You left Albus here alone!' Poppy exclaimed in alarm.

'No, no,' Harry said quickly. 'Kreacher's with him.'

'Merlin Harry,' Poppy muttered, 'sometimes I wonder about you.'

Harry shot her an impish grin as he divested himself of his heavy cloak. He paused though as the sound of a long-forgotten voice drifted towards him. It was coming from the living room, the door being slightly ajar. Poppy's sharp intake of breath behind him told him that she had recognised the voice also. Sharing a startled look with Poppy he approached the door confidently. Pushing the door open, he stared in shock at the sight before him.

Severus Snape was seated on his couch with Albus curled up on his lap. The most bizarre aspect of the scene though was the child's story book held loosely in Snape's hands and from which he was clearly reading aloud from, in a calm and melodic voice. Harry's eyebrows shot upwards as he realised Al was fiddling with Severus' thumbs, much as he did when Harry read him a book.

Albus was the first to notice them.

'Daddy!' his son cried excitedly, before expertly extracting himself from Snape's lap.

Harry was quick to mask his surprise, instead presenting a neutral expression as Snape himself looked towards the doorway. Harry watched a myriad of expressions flit across Snape's face as Al hurried towards him. Embarrassment, anger, fear and curiosity were prominent but the man expertly replaced them with a well-practiced blank mask before Harry could look more deeply. Disconcertingly for Harry, Snape's gaze was blank. The hatred which had so often been directed towards him was absent.

His watching was interrupted though as Albus wrapped his arms around Harry's legs. Automatically Harry stooped to pick up his son, not hesitating to plant several kisses on the boy's cheek, much to Al's amusement. Putting his son down Harry knelt before him.

'You hungry Al?' he asked ruffling the boy's messy dark hair.

Al nodded enthusiastically and Harry hid a smile. Al's enthusiasm for food reminded him of Ron Weasley.

'Run along to the kitchen,' he said gently. 'Kreacher will get you something to eat and I'll come join you later, alright?'

Al nodded before turning back to Snape.

'Bye-bye daddy's friend,' he said with childlike innocence before racing out of the living room.

Harry watched his son out of the room before standing back up, smoothing out the creases in his shirt.

'You are a singularly irresponsible parent,' came the soft sneer.

Harry looked up in confusion to find Snape gazing at him coldly.

'How so?' Harry asked politely.

Harry's question earned a disbelieving scoff from Snape before the man replied.

'What sort of imbecile leaves a toddler at home, alone?'

Harry was surprised by the anger behind Snape's question.

'He wasn't alone,' Harry said icily, annoyed at what Snape was insinuating. 'And I don't mean you,' he added when Snape looked like he wished to say more.

'Harry,' Poppy said warningly from beside him, giving his arm a brief squeeze.

'Sorry,' he muttered under his breath. 'I didn't think he'd be awake yet.'

Raising his voice he addressed Snape, who was staring at them in annoyance, obviously aware that they were talking about him.

'My apologies if Albus annoyed you,' he said succinctly. 'I did not think you would wake before I returned.'

'Why have you brought me here?' Snape demanded, ignoring Harry's apology.

'It was not my intention to...take you against your will,' Harry answered uncomfortably, earning a disbelieving snort from Snape.

'Yet you locked me in,' Snape sneered.

'I did not wish for Albus to bother you, that is all,' Harry replied honestly, frowning slightly at Snape's accusatory tone.

Snape said nothing more and so Harry continued.

'It was not possible to answer your questions where we were,' he said honestly. 'This situation is complicated and I ask only that you bear with me for the moment. I promise you that I mean you no harm whatsoever. Perhaps we could start over?' Harry suggested.

Snape seemed to consider his words but Harry could tell the man was desperate to learn more. Finally he nodded. Stepping forward Harry offered his hand to Snape.

'Harry Potter.'

'John Smith,' Snape replied automatically, grasping Harry's hand in a firm grip.

It was odd hearing Snape introduce himself with such a Muggle name but Harry kept his expression neutral – although he could see Snape himself seemed uncomfortable with his name. It seemed he had recalled Harry's assertion that John Smith was not the name he knew him by. Quickly Harry moved to introduce Poppy, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness.

'Might I introduce Poppy Pomfrey?' Harry said easily. 'She's a friend and someone who I think can help you John.'

Snape studied Poppy with undisguised curiosity. Harry realised belatedly that Poppy was wearing slightly more Wizarding style clothing, which undoubtedly appeared strange to Snape.

'A pleasure to meet you John,' Poppy said calmly, offering her hand to Snape also but he did not take it.

He was looking between Harry and Poppy now with great apprehension, as though he were a deer caught in headlights. His curiosity had been replaced with suspicion.

'What is this about?' he demanded angrily.

Harry realised that the situation was quickly escalating out of control.

'Calm down John,' Harry said quietly. 'I gave you my word that no harm would come to you here. But you need to calm yourself.'

Snape was sweating now, and Harry could see he was panicking. Suddenly the man dropped to his knees, attempting to slow his breathing. Automatically Harry went to move forward to assist him, but Poppy held him back, shaking her head slightly.

'Do not interfere, Harry,' she whispered urgently. 'He needs to learn to control this himself.'

But it was too late. The living room was plunged into darkness as Snape's accidental magic took out the lights. Harry and Poppy remained where they were, not wishing to startle Snape. Harry listened as slowly Snape's laboured breaths eased. By the time Snape was breathing normally Harry's vision had acclimatised to the darkness and he could see Snape had pushed himself up against the couch. The man's head was slumped forward, his hands pulling at his short hair and his legs pulled up tightly against his body. It was a position that spoke of hopelessness and defeat.

With a wave of his wand Harry flicked the lights back on. Snape did not seem to notice though.

'John,' Poppy said softly, moving past Harry to squat beside Snape. 'Perhaps you'd be more comfortable on the couch.'

Snape made no response – it was as though he had not heard her. Harry shared an uneasy look with Poppy. This was a side to Snape neither of them had ever experienced, or in Harry's case expected.

'No harm done John,' Poppy said softly. 'Why don't you sit up?'

This time Snape seemed to hear her.

'It was just an accident, but Harry's fixed it.'

Snape's blank gaze flickered toward Harry for a moment before slowly the man pushed himself up onto the couch. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Harry studied Poppy for a moment. It was obvious that she was anxious to exam Severus but Harry knew Snape would need to have a basic understanding of magic before that. It was not how Harry had planned to discuss this with Snape but he had to remember that this was not the same Snape who had been his Potions Master. Harry moved to sit opposite Snape, gesturing for Poppy to follow his lead.

'How often has this happened John?' he asked gently.

Harry let the silence draw out as he waited for Snape to answer. He knew he would answer eventually, Snape had been too curious that afternoon to refuse the chance of an explanation. The incident with the lights had clearly shaken Snape. He didn't understand what was happening around him but Harry could tell he wanted to know.

'It's been getting worse,' Snape said hoarsely, still studying the floor intently. 'I don't know when it first started...probably years ago. It used to be just little things – I'd drop a cup and it wouldn't shatter; doors I thought were locked were suddenly unlocked; I'd trip but I wouldn't fall. I could put them all down to luck, I could ignore them,' he admitted.

Harry nodded, although Snape wasn't looking at him. They were all typical acts of accidental magic.

'Go on,' Harry prompted.

Snape was silent for a moment before he finally looked up to meet Harry's gaze.

'A few years ago,' Snape continued, 'I was doing an odd job – replacing some tiles on a roof. I was 28ft off the ground. One of the tiles gave out from beneath me and I slipped off. I fell 28ft and I was fine. That's when I knew I couldn't ignore it anymore. Eventually I realised it happened when I was angry or...upset,' he muttered uneasily. 'I learnt that if I could try and keep control it didn't happen. I was doing fine...until today,' he finished.

'What happened today?' Harry asked calmly.

'I lost control,' Snape snapped.

Harry could tell the man was mistakenly angry with himself. It was time he learnt the truth.

'There's nothing wrong with you John,' he began slowly. 'What you are experiencing is not abnormal, nor is it something to be feared. It seems dangerous and uncontrollable at the moment – but that is because you have forgotten who you are. You have forgotten what you are.'

'What are you saying?' Snape asked uneasily.

'You're a wizard John,' Harry said simply.

For a moment Snape sat in stunned silence. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Snape speechless, but it did not last long. The mask was reforming, an ugly sneer spreading across Snape's face. He stood abruptly, Harry mirroring his movements.

'You think this is funny!' the man roared, spittle flying from his lips, as he grabbed Harry by the collar.

'No,' Harry said simply, staring determinedly at Snape.

Harry's tone seemed to check Snape's rage and the man paused, although he did not release Harry.

'I'm not lying John,' Harry said resolutely. 'You're a wizard. As am I'

Something in Harry's expression must have meant something to Snape because the man released him before slowly reseating himself. Harry watched as Snape ran his hands through his hair distractedly.

'Then the things that have been happening to me...'

'They are episodes of accidental magic,' Harry explained. 'When you are feeling particularly emotional or at times when your life is at risk, your magic will automatically respond. Normally it only occurs in children, particularly those without wands or those who have not yet learnt to control their magic. It is unusual for adults to release unintentional magic but it is not unheard of. In your case, your amnesia is the obvious cause.'

Snape seemed to be following Harry's explanation but he could tell that the man had numerous questions. Silence fell over the trio as Harry waited for Snape to digest the information he had provided so far. Finally Snape looked up, fixing Harry with an intense gaze.

'Who am I?' he asked simply.

'Severus Snape.'

XXXX

The name seemed to echo in the silence of the room. Distantly some part of John Smith recognised the name, but it was not enough. John had been sure that remembering his name would bring back his memories and unlock his past. But he still felt like John Smith.

'There is still much to be discussed John,' Potter was saying. 'I know you have questions and I will answer them, but I think it would be best if you saw Madam Pomfrey now. She's a Healer.'

John nodded automatically, ignoring the pair as they discussed which room the Healer could use.

A hand was on his shoulder.

'John?' the woman asked kindly. 'Would you follow me?'

Standing, John was led back upstairs to the room he'd woken up in.

'If it makes you more comfortable John, I've been your Healer since you were eleven,' she said kindly.

The way she was studying him so familiarly, John did not doubt her. He had had little interaction with doctors in the past few years. Early on after his accident he had been surrounded by medical staff but all of them had let him down. The worst had been when a young doctor had referred him to a psychiatrist after his nightmares had disturbed the other patients on the ward. John had refused to talk to the psychiatrist and in the end the woman had given up. John discharged himself three days later and never came back.

'Just lie back on the bed,' Poppy instructed.

John was surprised to find the comfortable bed had been replaced with a hospital-style bed. Reluctantly he lay down, hating the feeling of exposure.

'I'm just going to run a diagnostic spell. You won't feel anything.'

John watched with wide eyes as Poppy withdrew a long thin stick of wood, which John realised was her wand, from an inner pocket and waved it in a fluid motion towards him. A blue light was produced and John watched curiously as the light scanned him from head to toe. Looking back over at Madam Pomfrey, he saw that the Healer was frowning slightly at a piece of parchment that had materialised in her hand.

'Could you remove your shirt please?'

John hesitated for a moment. He did not know this woman. Still something about her encouraged him to trust her and slowly he reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt. Madam Pomfrey stepped forward as he finished, deliberately pulling his shirt apart to study his right side. It was only now that John recalled he'd been kicked there and that even now it was still quite painful. Looking down, he noted with surprise that his right side was a wash of coloured bruises.

'Hmph!'

John realised the Healer looked somewhat put out as she marched over to her bag before returning with several salves and bottles.

'Honestly Severus,' Poppy exclaimed, not seeming to notice her slip. 'How many times do I have to tell you that it is important that you seek medical attention if you require it? You cannot simply waltz around with a broken rib. It is irresponsible for one thing and stupid for another. You are far too stubborn for your own good, young man. You and Harry both need to learn that it is not appropriate to treat your own injuries. Nor is it acceptable to hide them!'

John started at the sudden use of his other name. It seemed this woman really did know him well. Apparently he had been avoiding her treatment for years, he thought amusedly to himself. As had Harry Potter. He wondered at that but some long lost instinct reminded him that it was best if he apologised profusely to Poppy before she got carried away.

'My apologies Madam Pomfrey,' he said sincerely, although it sounded rather pompous. 'With everything that has happened in the last few hours I'd forgotten about it.'

'Hmph! I shall be having a word with Harry about this, he should have thought to check for injuries,' she muttered under her breath but she seemed to accept his apology.

John watched with interest as she smoothed an intriguing concoction across his right side. She had already given him a pain relief potion – which had worked immediately, much to his amazement – and she had muttered some spell which John was sure had healed the broken rib, although that had been rather uncomfortable. The salve she was applying now was electric blue and was incredibly cool and soothing.

'It's just Poppy by the way,' Madam Pomfrey said as she worked. 'You haven't called me Madam Pomfrey since you left school.'

'Oh right,' John said uneasily.

He was uncomfortable with using people's first names unless he knew them well. He supposed it was alright with Poppy, she seemed to know him quite well. Poppy finished her task and John noticed that her eyes had been drawn to the scars.

'Do you know how I got these?' he asked determinedly.

There were two scars about 4inches apart, 7inches long. One started above his left collarbone and ran to just above his left nipple. The other was below his left collarbone, just near his shoulder socket and ran to under his left arm, halfway down his ribs. A third scar ran between the two. It had been done during surgery to stabilise the two wounds he'd presented with. The whole thing looked like a lopsided 'H' that someone had carved messily into his left side. John noticed that Poppy had paled considerably at the sight of the scars. She knows...he thought but she did not answer his question.

'What did the Muggles think had happened?' Poppy asked instead.

'Muggles?' John queried, with a confused look.

'Oh sorry,' Poppy gushed. 'Muggle is the Wizarding term for non-magical persons.'

'Right...'

He supposed it made sense to distinguish between the two worlds.

'The doctors thought I'd been mauled by some kind of animal,' he admitted after a moment's pause. 'They found the wounds strange though. When I was brought in, they were sure I wouldn't survive the night – not with a wound in the neck. They rushed me into emergency surgery which is when they discovered that the wound was partially healed. Although the rest of the wound was deep and the surrounding tissue was extensively damaged somehow my jugular veins and carotid arteries were still intact. I survived the surgery although the wound healed slowly and the stitches would often dissolve prematurely.'

'Would you mind if Harry came in to see this?' Poppy asked.

John scowled. He wasn't particularly interested in having people gawk at his neck.

'Does he know how it happened?' he snapped sarcastically.

Much to his surprise Poppy simply nodded before disappearing out of the room. John sat in surprised silence as he tried to understand how the young man would know. The wounds were ten years old and Harry Potter couldn't be much more than thirty...His thoughts were interrupted by low voices outside the door.

' – I'm not surprised the stitches dissolved. Same thing happened to Arthur – '

' – muggles would have given him blood I imagine, to counteract the bleeding – '

' – probably saved his life by diluting the venom –'

Finally the door opened to reveal Poppy, followed closely by Harry Potter. John's first thought was that Potter didn't seem surprised by the wound, in fact it almost seemed as though the man had been expecting it. He watched as the man seemed to stare past the wound, as though he was lost in a memory but he snapped out of it quickly. The professional mask was back in place, but John thought he seemed shaken.

'The doctors assumed the wound was caused by some animal, yes?' Harry asked.

John nodded, and the man continued.

'They were not wrong,' he said simply. 'The wound was inflicted by a snake.'

'A snake?' John asked, unable to hide his disbelief.

'You forget that in the magical world, not all things are as they seem,' Harry said kindly, giving John a knowing look.

'The snake that attacked you was roughly twelve foot long and as thick as a man's thigh,' Harry explained. 'She was particularly intelligent, highly venomous and well...I'll explain the rest to you another day. Suffice it to say that you had rather enraged her...' Harry broke off searching for a word.

'Master?' Poppy suggested.

'I suppose that fits as well as anything,' Harry agreed before continuing. 'You had enraged her master and in an attempt to kill you he set Nagini – the snake – upon you.'

John was struggling to comprehend the new information. A man who owned a deadly snake had attempted to kill him – to kill Severus Snape. He wondered briefly just what he had done but he pushed the thought aside, determined to learn more.

'And how do you know all this?' he asked scornfully.

'I was there,' Harry said simply.

Harry's answer threw John for a moment. He hadn't been told enough yet to understand the importance of Harry's words.

'Why?' he asked, noticing that Harry seemed uncomfortable about answering.

'Look,' Harry said, 'this is complex...'

'Save your excuses,' John cut in coldly. 'Answer me this. If you knew me, as you have claimed...if you watched this attack happen...if I belong to this 'Wizarding world',' he was standing now as he shouted, pointing accusingly at Harry. 'Then why the hell was I left to rot for ten years? Ten years, Potter. I don't even know who I AM! Can you understand that! Do you have any idea what it is like to wake up in a world full of strangers with no idea who you are? And no one. Not one sodding bastard can tell you your name.'

He was breathing heavily, staring with deranged anger at the calm face of Harry Potter. For a moment there seemed to be a flicker of understanding in the man's eyes but it was gone before John was sure; replaced instead with a blank expression, as Harry waited for John to finish.

'Answer me Potter,' he growled. 'Why? Why has no one bothered to look for Severus Snape.'

He spat his own name out with distaste but for the first time since he'd begun shouting at Potter his words seemed to cause a response. Potter was studying him incredulously and suddenly John could tell the man's own temper had flared in response to his own.

'You were dead Snape,' Potter spat bitterly.

Dead...the word cut at John. Vaguely he realised some distant part of himself was accepting the man's explanation. Why would anyone look for a dead man?

'I watched you die!' Potter continued, oblivious to John's shock. 'Do you know what that was like! After everything...everything that had happened I didn't really want you to die. Not like that.'

Potter turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door as he left, leaving a bewildered John and a troubled Poppy in his wake.

'Harry never stopped looking for you,' Poppy said softly into the silence.

John looked over at her in surprise.

'Why?' he asked frowning. 'He thought I was dead,' he added bluntly.

'That is something you will have to ask Harry,' Poppy said simply, gesturing for John to resume his seat on the bed.

XXXX

Potter was slouched on the couch in the living room when John and Poppy came downstairs. John paused in the doorway watching as the man made multi-coloured bubbles appear from his wand, much to the delight of his laughing son. Potter looked up as Poppy pushed John ahead of her into the room. It seemed he had calmed down considerably because he offered a smile to the pair before turning back to his son.

'Sorry Al, we'll finish later,' he said, much to his son's disappointment.

Picking Albus up, Harry placed him on the couch next to him, handing the boy a stack of picture books to look through before turning expectantly towards Poppy.

'I took the liberty of explaining a bit more of Severus' history to John and explained as much of the Wizarding world to him as I could,' she said brusquely as she seated herself opposite Harry.

John noticed that Potter seemed exceedingly thankful for Poppy's intervention. There was a lot he still didn't know but Poppy had provided John with a brief history of his life prior to his disappearance from the Wizarding world.

Severus Snape had been Potion's Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since the age of twenty, he'd learnt. Hogwarts was the school he had attended as a child and he had been sorted into Slytherin House. Later the Headmaster – Albus Dumbledore – had appointed him Head of Slytherin. John got the distinct impression though that Poppy had been deliberately light on with details as she had spent most of the time discussing John's work as Potions Master, much to his annoyance. As to his injury, Poppy had told him only that Nagini's master had been a 'Lord Voldemort' and had left it at that. Whoever 'Lord Voldemort' had been Poppy had not wished to discuss him. Despite his persistent questioning, Poppy had feigned ignorance as to why Voldemort had wished to kill him.

His thoughts were interrupted though as Harry Potter approached him.

'You're right John,' he said sincerely. 'I have no idea what it would have been like for you. I'm sorry for my behaviour.'

John hid his surprise well, but nevertheless grasped the proffered hand to accept the man's apology.

'Why did you search for me?' he asked as he seated himself next to Poppy.

The question seemed to amuse Harry somewhat, as his lip curled slightly.

'There was no body,' Harry replied, seating himself again. 'There was no reason to assume you were dead.'

John frowned at his explanation.

'The rest of the Wizarding world was content to believe that I had died,' he said neutrally. 'But not you...'

'If you must know,' Harry began, 'Albus Dumbledore's portrait – among other things – gave me the impression that without a body it was highly likely that you were still alive somewhere. But as with all things concerning Albus Dumbledore nothing is ever what it seems,' Harry finished cryptically before turning to Madam Pomfrey.

'The amnesia...'

'There is no evidence to suggest that he has been Obliviated. I searched extensively Harry, but I could find no trace of the memories, which is unusual. It is as though they have been removed completely.'

John listened disinterestedly. Poppy had already explained this to him. She had told him that all magic left traces, even memory spells. As such if his amnesia had been the result of a spell or curse, fragments of memories would have been present– but she had found nothing. It was frustrating. Since learning of the magical world, John had been sure that he would finally regain his memories – but it seemed even here there were no answers for him.

'Is it possible that he is repressing the memories?' Harry asked.

John noted with suspicion that Potter didn't seem particularly surprised by Madam Pomfrey's findings.

'If he were,' Poppy said unsurely, glancing over at John, 'I would not be able to discern the location of the memories. Repressed memories are normally impossible to find,' she added for John's benefit. 'It is like searching for a needle in a haystack; harder still because your mind is actively hiding the 'entrance' to the memories – so to speak. Significant memories are hidden separately in the mind. Releasing one would not guarantee the return of all memories. You would need a skilled Legilimens to act as a guide,' she looked towards Harry as she said this. 'But even if that were possible Harry, it would need a trigger,' she added significantly.

John looked over to see Potter studying him quietly.

'I believe I have one,' Harry said gravely, not taking his eyes off John.

Slowly he withdrew a small vial from an inner pocket. John heard Poppy gasp beside him. He looked curiously at the contents. They were silver and seemed to be swirling slowly inside the container.

'I did not want to get your hopes up,' Harry said softly, looking beseechingly at Poppy, 'which is why I didn't tell you earlier. Would it work?'

'Yes,' Poppy breathed out. 'I think so. I can't say for sure...nothing like this has ever been reported before.'

'What is that?' John asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the small vial in Potter's hand.

'Memories,' answered Harry. 'Your memories.'

John didn't even question the impossibility of tangible memories. His heart clenched as he realised that the vial held the answers to his life...

A hand grasped his upper arm lightly, preventing him from standing.

'They are not all of your memories John,' Poppy said softly. 'You cannot restore your memories with these alone. You need Harry to guide you. '

He let out a tense breath, calming himself.

'If there's a chance I can get my memories back...' he trailed off.

'There's more than a chance,' Harry said surely. 'But we can talk more –'

Harry trailed off as John registered the sound of a distant fire roaring to life.

'HARRY!' a man called out.

'In the living room Ron,' Harry answered.

'Blimey Harry,' the man named Ron continued, his voice growing louder. 'If you don't get back to the hospital Ginny is going to kill me.' John looked over at Harry in confusion and noticed that the man looked alarmed. The door opened and John turned to find a tall red-headed man entering the room. 'I mean I've spent more time with your newborn daughter...'

The newcomer stopped talking as he caught sight of the living room occupants. Newborn daughter...John thought, looking towards Harry in confusion. Surely the man hadn't spent half his day here when his wife had clearly just given birth.

'Uncle Ron!' Albus cried excitedly, breaking the awkward silence of the adults as he jumped up to greet the red-head.

The man automatically picked up the toddler but John could see he was in shock.

'Harry...' he said weakly. 'Tell me that's not Snape.'

John sneered at the man's rudeness, which seemed to only alarm the man further.

'Err – yeah it is,' Potter said sheepishly, standing up.

The sound of the distant fireplace once more roaring to life stopped Harry in his tracks.

'POTTER!'

John watched with amusement as both Potter and the red-head paled considerably.

'You didn't –'

'She must have seen me leave –'

Footsteps were approaching the living room, which seemed to prod Potter into action.

'She can't see him –' he said quickly, moving to intercept the newcomer before they reached the living room.

As Potter reached the door though it was thrown open from the other side. John caught sight of an exasperated looking woman. She was tall and dressed in formal Wizarding robes. His view was blocked though as Potter moved to stand in front of her.

'Kindly explain Potter why half my Auror department –'

She was cut off though as Potter man-handled the woman out of the room, gesturing for the red-head to follow him, but not before the woman glimpsed John.

'Potter –'

'Sorry,' John heard Potter say. 'Missing department you were saying?'

'What are you hiding Harry?' the woman asked, the sudden familiarity surprising John. 'That man...'

'It's no one,' Potter said quickly.

'Don't bother Harry, you're a hopeless liar,' the woman said amusedly. 'Now tell me that wasn't who I thought it was or I might just start asking why exactly I let two incompetents such as yourselves run my Auror department.'

'Harry isn't even supposed to be at work today,' the red-head protested. 'Ginny just gave birth!'

'Oh I know,' the woman said easily, though her tone was deceptively warm. 'I've already been to see Ginny and Lily. Congratulations Harry.'

'Thanks,' Potter replied – sounding relieved, although John doubted the woman was finished with them.

'You still haven't explained why Severus Snape is sitting in your living room Harry,' the woman continued shrewdly.

'Err –'

The door was shut by someone, effectively cutting off the conversation. John looked over to Poppy to find her smirking at the door.

'Harry works for the Ministry of Magic,' she explained. 'He heads the Auror Office – the muggle equivalent would be the Police force,' Poppy added at John's confused look.

John was distracted from asking further questions as Albus climbed up next to him on the couch.

'Story?' the boy asked hopefully.

John scowled – what was with this child. Madam Pomfrey laughed at his expression.

'Albus must like you a lot,' she said frankly, 'he's normally much shyer.'

John didn't get a chance to reply as the living room door opened once more. Potter stepped through, still looking rather sheepish, followed by the red-head and the woman. The woman was staring at him intently and John took the chance to study her properly. She was older than the other men, closer to his own age. Her expression was neutral and professional. It was her eyes though that caught John's attention. They were a startling deep blue. She was studying him shrewdly and John did not doubt that she was highly intelligent. There was an edge to her gaze though, an iciness, directed specifically towards him. This woman knew him he realised...and she did not like him.

'Ev!' cried Albus, hopping off the couch to embrace the woman.

The moment she spotted the toddler the woman's face broke into a delighted smile and she picked the little boy up to give him a hug.

'Might I introduce my boss,' Potter cut in. 'Ms Evelyn Hughes, Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.' The woman put Albus down gently, her professional demeanour returning immediately. The little boy seemed to understand, and moved back to sit on the couch with John.

'Evelyn, this is –'

'John Smith,' Ms Hughes supplied.

John noticed there was a slight curl to her lips as she said it – as though she found it ironic. Moving forward she offered her hand to John, who had no choice but to stand and accept it.

'A pleasure to meet you Mr Smith,' she said smoothly with the hint of an Irish accent.

She had a strong grip and John did not hesitate to match it. The sudden increase in pressure seemed to amuse her and that ironic smirk appeared once more. Her gaze though remained cold and evaluating. John met her gaze, raising his eyebrow in response as he accepted the unspoken challenge. He was not so easily intimidated. Evelyn spared him one final glance before releasing his hand and turning away.

'You have one week of leave Potter,' she said brusquely. 'Congratulations Weasley, you've been promoted. I shall see you at work.'

With that she turned on her heel, robes swishing behind her, and left the room. Neither man seemed particularly happy with her pronouncement. Finally Harry dropped back onto the couch, letting out a loud sigh as he rubbed his hands through his messy hair in weariness.

'I don't believe I've introduced myself,' the red-head said uncomfortably into the silence, moving forward from the doorway.

'Ron Weasley.'

He offered his hand and John shook it briefly.

'John Smith,' he supplied.

'I better go Harry,' Weasley continued. 'We'll take Al for the night but for both our sakes go and see Ginny.'

'Thanks Ron,' Harry said, sounding relieved. Pulling himself up he moved to kneel in front of his son. 'Al you're staying over with Uncle Ron tonight, OK?'

The little boy nodded excitedly before giving his father a brief hug and a kiss goodnight. John turned away disinterestedly.

'Let's go,' Weasley said, hoisting Albus up onto his shoulders and carrying him out of the living room.

Silence descended on the room, and John lost himself in his thoughts, rubbing wearily at his eyes. His sleep-deprived state was distracting as he tried to recall everything he had been told so far.

'You've had a lot to take in John,' Poppy said softly from beside him. 'You should get some sleep.'

'Until you regain control of your magic I would suggest that you remain here, to avoid any more muggles witnessing accidental magic,' advised Harry. 'If you would rather return to your own home though, I will take you now.'

'I'll stay,' John answered quietly.

Potter held too many cards for John to let him out of his sight now.

'Very well,' said Poppy. 'I must return to Hogwarts but I shall be in contact with you tomorrow Harry. Good night.'

'Come on, I'll show you to your room,' Potter said, getting up to follow Poppy out of the living room.

John was returned to the room he'd woken in.

'I need to go and see my wife,' Potter said awkwardly from the doorway. 'And there are a few other people I have to talk to tonight. I'll be back before morning but please, for your own safety, do not leave this property.'

John nodded; even if he had decided to leave he had no idea where he was. Potter seemed satisfied and gave John a smile before leaving. John watched him go before moving into the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed he let his head drop into his hands. He needed time to think.

XXXX