Chapter 1

Harry opened his eyes.

The pale moonlight pierced the darkness of the night and showed him where he was. He frowned when his orientation was completely skewed and he looked at his hands. They were puny. He gasped and tried to look at his own body as best as he could.

"Great," he muttered. "I'm puny again." He frowned. The memories of his past life were clear in his mind. But gone were the feelings he associated with them. "Lily Luna," he whispered into the darkness. "My princess." He frowned at the lack of any emotion. He might as well have uttered any random string of names. He knew what he should feel but he just didn't feel it. What he did feel was hunger and an irrational desire to have a Mars bar.

He was in muggle London. Hyde Park stretched out in front of him and he reached inside his pockets. He had nothing - no money, no wand, no identity.

"Hey, kid."

Harry turned around and blinked a few times before making out the figure of a man in uniform.

"The park will be closed in ten minutes," said the man. "Where are you parents?"

Harry hesitated. He had to muster all his Slytherin cunning to deal with the situation. And then he knew exactly what he had to. It was as simple as -

"I dunno."

The guard frowned. "What do you mean? They must be here somewhere?"

Harry shook his head. "They left me," he said, making sure to keep his voice just a hint sad. "It's fine, sir. It's better this way. At least, they won't hurt me no more."

The guard's jaws dropped. He looked around before reaching for his walkie-talkie. "Emergency situation, Bobby," he spoke into it. "I've got a lost kid in the park - abandoned by the looks of it - I reckon a victim of, you know, child abuse - about eight, maybe nine, definitely no more than nine - yes, sure." He turned to Harry. "What's your name, son?" he asked kindly.

"H-Henry," Harry blurted out, changing his name in the very last moment. "Henry Black, sir." Quietly, he chose his identity - Henry Black, scion to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

The guard smiled reassuringly at Harry before returning to the walkie-talkie. "Henry Black - yeah, very common last name - near impossible to locate those scoundrels -" He turned to Harry again. "Do you know where you and your parents used to live, Henry?"

Harry pretended to think for a few moments and then he shook his head. "We drove for a long time to get here," he said, trying to sound helpful.

The man sighed and then spoke to Harry kindly. "Come on then, son," he took Harry's hand. "I'll take you to the local council's children's home." He gazed at Harry sadly, pitying the poor abandoned and abused child.

Harry gladly followed the man to the shelter and gratefully accepted lodgings for the night. The old lady who was warden of the shelter home decided to delay alerting the police until the next morning; which worked well with Harry.

The next morning, before anyone else woke up, Harry opened the window and looked outside at the cold foggy morning. He grinned to himself and thought, 'Memento Mori.' Immediately, he felt his body alter in shape and before he knew it, his entire perception of the world changed. He had become a phoenix.

He trilled playfully and soared out of the window, enjoying the view of the world through his magical eyes. A phoenix did not perceive things as humans - instead of colours, they saw heat and magic in the world. Harry flew around for a while, hidden in the fog, as he tried making sense of the heatmaps. Humans showed as a distinct bright shade of heat in the pale background. Everything with life that exuded heat was visible to him distinctly; he could perceive life forms through walls and at huge distances.

It was time to leave the shelter and rejoin the magical world.

Harry flapped his wings and flew towards a particularly bright source of heat. He gasped on recognizing the person who was emanating it - a young Hermione Granger, standing on the balcony of her home. Harry realized he was somewhere near the residential neighbourhood of Holland Park and that the brighter source of heat was an indicator of magical potential. He flew towards Hermione and flew in a loop near her.

The girl squealed and reached out to him. Harry chuckled, which came out as an amused trill, and he flew in a loop around her head; and then he soared higher, deciding to leave her for the time being. He flew higher and looked at the ground - he could perceive plants, animals and humans - muggles and wizards - by the relative heat and magic being exuded from different people, he could compare the magical potential of the witches and wizards below him.

But more than anything, the carefree and pleasant nature of the phoenix was beginning to affect him. He felt himself light-hearted and an unexplainable sensation of joy and thrill fleeted through him. He flew Eastwards and made for Charing Cross, and when he approached it, he felt a slight pressure against him, and he flew through it, piercing through the veil that separated muggle London from Diagon Alley. He made sure to stay high up in the air as he observed people move about.

He gasped when he saw the first truly dark shade of heat and blinked on recognizing Lucius Malfoy. So the legend that a phoenix could perceive good and evil was not entirely baseless. But being able to perceive it was all Harry could do - he didn't particularly feel averse to Malfoy or his specific magical corruptness. It was just something that was there; and Harry wondered what the dark represented. He decided it was something he would have to learn with time.

He flew down to a secluded area and emerged as a human child. He had spent the night making his plans and now it was time to enact them. He trusted Death's words that whatever identity he chose would pass all tests from the Ministry and Dumbledore.

He paused and with a sudden motion hit the back of his head against the wall.

"Ouch," he cried out, his frail body feeling the pain. The world swam around him for several minutes as he tried to steady himself, forcing himself not to lose consciousness.

Harry then wandered out into the street and walked towards the Leaky Cauldron, when he saw someone familiar and blessed his fortune. "Excuse me, sir," Harry stopped abruptly and looked at the red-haired man who was leading his large family of redheads on a tour of the Alley.

"Yes, lad?" asked Arthur Weasley kindly. "How can I help you? Are you lost?"

Harry nodded, trying to keep his expression as innocent and sad as possible. He then appeared confused and added, "Please, can you help me, sir? I don't remember anything. I… I don't know who I am…"

Arthur Weasley looked at him with concern. He turned to his wife, who had an identical expression of worry on her face. "Molly, take the children to the Quidditch store and then stay in the bistro behind Madam Malkin's. I will be back soon."

Harry smiled inside his head as he followed the dependable Arthur Weasley to St. Mungo's, where medical scans revealed his head wound, and mind healers tried to locate his memories but were met with nothing at all - after all, Harry had trained himself in Occlumency to keep out the most terrible Dark Lord of their times, mere mind healers were child's play compared to that.

"His amnesia is too powerful," said a healer apologetically to Arthur. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."

Arthur hesitated. "But what happens to the boy now?" he asked curiously. He looked at Harry, who was pretending to be asleep from the mental strain of the Legilimency attempts. "What do we do with him?"

The healer replied. "I took the liberty of informing the Ministry's Department for the Welfare of Pureblood Children. An employee will be here shortly; if the boy is a pureblood or is descended through a direct paternal line from a pureblood family, then his identity will be determined and he will be sent to his next-of-kin."

"And if he's not a pureblood?" asked Arthur Weasley with a hint of anger. "What if he's a muggleborn? What happens to him then?"

"I'm afraid," the healer continued, "it will be out of our hands. As there is nothing wrong with him, he will be sent to a wizarding orphanage or a muggle children's home, and a notice can be published in the Daily Prophet and muggle newspapers if somebody is searching for him."

"I'd rather let him stay at my own home than send him to an orphanage," replied Arthur, looking at Harry.

Harry chose that moment to wake up. He rubbed his eyes and looked innocently at Arthur Weasley, oddly touched by the man's words. In his past life, he was Arthur's son-in-law and although none of the emotions remained, new ones were being created. His willingness to take in a lost child with amnesia who turned to him for aid spoke volumes of the man's character, and Harry vowed to develop relationships with the Weasleys again.

Soon, the Ministry worker arrived and after a quick relay of the facts of the case, proceeded to scan Harry with his detectors. "Interesting," the man said, as the devices started making odd noises. "Curious." He waited patiently for more but nothing else happened. Frowning, he turned to the healer and Arthur. "The boy is definitely a pureblood. His name is Henry Black, nine years old, son of Regulus Arcturus Black and an unknown witch. The lack of a mother's name implies that she was either a muggleborn or most likely a halfblood with a muggleborn father." He nodded, pleased with his analysis. "As the oldest Black of his generation, he is also heir to the Black estate and titles."

Arthur Weasley gasped. His eyes widened. "I know Sirius Black personally," he said. "I will contact him immediately about his nephew." He shook his head. "We all believed young Regulus had been killed by You-Know-Who for turning against him." He turned to Harry and smiled reassuringly. "You wait here, Henry. I'll fetch your Uncle Sirius."

'Uncle Sirius is in for a massive shock,' thought Harry to himself with amusement. But then his humour faded as he recalled the treatment of his counterpart at the hands of Sirius Black and the rest of the Potter family. He sighed and lay back on the bed. Closing his eyes, he mused how to deal with the Blacks and the Potters; he wanted to be accepted by them but how could he achieve that while at the same time become a mentor to their neglected son. Although, Harry didn't feel much for them because of who they were, he wanted to be accepted into a family; it was odd, he was like a grownup with grownup memories and powers but a child's instincts.

True to his word, Arthur Weasley returned in less than ten minutes with Sirius Black and a stunning dark-haired woman who looked somewhat familiar to him from his previous life's memories. "That's him," said Arthur. "Henry Black. You haven't heard from Regulus at all?"

Sirius shook his head. He was dumbfounded. He scrutinized Harry with sharp eyes before turning to the healer. "You are certain? There can be no mistake?"

"Absolutely not," said the healer. "The Ministry takes very special care not to make mistakes with pureblood heirs."

Harry was slightly surprised to see the disappointment and dismay in Sirius and the woman's faces at the healer's explanation when he saw the rings on his finger, and the woman's, and he realized why they had hurried to see him. It wasn't out of concern, it was because he had usurped the title which they probably expected their son to inherit.

"I suppose we have no choice but to take him with us," said the woman. Harry decided that despite her stunning looks he didn't like her at all. He turned pleadingly towards Arthur Weasley, who appeared somewhat shocked by the Blacks' reactions.

"If it is such an inconvenience, Gwenog, I will be glad to provide Henry -"

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur," Sirius cut in. "The boy's my nephew. I am not entirely pleased with this turn of events, what with no word from Regulus in over seven years, but I won't abandon the boy."

Harry realized why the woman was so familiar. She was the famous Gwenog Jones, captain of the Hollywood Harpies.

"Well, boy," Sirius turned to him. "Come on, get up. Let's get going."

Grimmauld Place surprised Harry. It was completely different from what he had recalled it as in his memories. It screamed of Quidditch and expensive furnishings. On their arrival, Sirius took him to the living room, and while Harry stood upright in attention, Sirius spoke to him sternly, while Gwenog observed from a slight distance.

"You will be given a room in the ground floor, you will have dinner with the rest of the family as often as possible and you will not have any need for material things. Your chores will be at a minimum - to keep your own room clean and clear any mess you make. But I want you to understand that we're not entirely pleased with this situation. Your father betrayed and abandoned the light and I will not have you corrupting my children. Is that understood?"

Harry hesitated, trying to think of a suitable response for a nine year old. Instead, he pretended to be frightened by Sirius' words and shrunk away from him.

Sirius sighed exasperatedly. "Nobody's going to hurt you, boy." He snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared from thin air. "This is Kreacher. If you need anything, ask him. Kreacher, this is Regulus' son and -"

"Master Regulus' son!" Kreacher croaked in delight, rushing towards Harry and kneeling, grabbed his legs adoringly.

Sirius glared at Harry as if Kreacher's misbehaviour was his fault. "The ground floor has all the common rooms - the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the library and a den. The basement and cellar have several interesting rooms as well. Your movement is restricted to these areas. The first and second floor are for the family. Is that understood?"

"Y-Yes, sir," said Harry, while thinking what a bastard this Sirius was being to his own nephew. But then he realized from his memory that even his Sirius had been like this to everyone who wasn't a bona fide Gryffindor. His attention was diverted at the sound of footsteps and he turned towards the door.

"Papa!"

Sirius' entire demeanour changed, and from being mean and stern, he changed into a devoted and gentle father, as he scooped his excited little daughter in his arms. "Carina, I want you to meet your cousin Henry. He's here to stay with us for now."

Harry smiled at the cheerful girl.

"Cousin Henry?" she asked with a frown. "But that's not a star name! That's not a Black name!"

Harry looked at her curiously. She was much younger than him, and in high spirits, and had blurted out the first thing in her mind. There didn't seem to be any spite in her voice. He looked at her apologetically.

"Well," Sirius hesitated. "He still is your cousin. He will stay in the ground floor in Grandma's old room. I don't want you to be a bother to him, okay, sweetheart?"

"Okay," she said. She threw a regretful look at her cousin before allowing her father to take her back upstairs.

Harry waited for a few seconds in silence before turning to the still adulating house-elf. "Get up, Kreacher. This is no way for an elf of the noble house of Black to behave. Show some dignity." The house-elf jerked up instantly and saluted to Harry with full attention. "Good. Show me to my grandmother's room. Uncle Sirius has allocated it to me."

Kreacher moved instantly, leading Harry through a narrow side-passage to a master bedroom that appeared as if it hadn't been used in years. Inside was a portrait of a rather nasty looking woman. She instantly turned to Harry.

"WHO DARES ENTER MY ROOM! MUDBLOODS, BLOOD TRAITORS, FILTH! KREACHER, HOW DARE YOU -"

"Mistress, stop!" Kreacher interrupted her, and then both the portrait and the house-elf were shocked at Kreacher's audacity. Harry smiled to himself, wondering just how powerful an ally he had secured in the house-elf. "This is Master Regulus' son, heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

The woman in the portrait scrutinized Harry in depth. After nearly a minute of inactivity, she finally sighed. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy. Tell me your name. Has my Reggie not taught you any manners at all?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am," gushed Harry like a rebuked child. "Henry Black, ma'am. I don't know, ma'am. The healer at St. Mangoes said I have amnesium."

"Amnesia. St. Mungo's," the woman corrected distractedly. "Oh dear, then you probably cannot tell me anything about my Reggie or what happened to him?"

"No, ma'am," said Harry. "Sorry, ma'am."

She sighed before turning to him and nodded. "The fate of the Blacks is secured. That blood traitor oaf I gave birth to will not lead my noble family to ruination." She turned to Kreacher. "You say he is the heir after Sirius?"

"Yes, mistress," replied Kreacher. "He is three years older than Miss Carina and much older than Master Eridanus."

"Excellent!" Walburga Black squealed with joy. "I will groom the boy! I will make him worthy of the Black name. I will make him a fitting servant of the Dark Lord. I will -"

"Kreacher, remove this portrait from my room," said Harry instantly, rubbing his forehead. "It's giving me a headache. I am your true master, not some measly piece of canvas with watercolour."

"WHAT! HOW DARE YOU -"

Kreacher snapped his fingers and the portrait vanished.

Harry looked around the room. "Lilac!" he said in chagrin at the colour of the walls. "Are you kidding me? Can I have a nice and simple off-white colour? Wheatish."

"Yes, master!" Kreacher squealed in delight. Harry knew from his memory that Regulus Black's room had wheat-coloured walls when he lived in the house.

"Good work," said Harry, and he walked to the window. He looked outside and saw the street. A few cars were parked further up and down the street. "Tell me about the family."

Kreacher spoke without hesitation. "Blood traitor master is a disgrace. He works in Ministry as Auror and consorts with mudbloods and filth."

"Language, Kreacher!" Harry cut in sharply. "Neither a pureblood nor his elf should sully his tongue with such vulgarities. How are we better than the rest if we sink to their own level?"

"Yes, master. Kreacher is sorry, master." Kreacher bowed dejectedly. "Master Sirius works as an Auror, but he also owns many businesses from where he makes his money. Mistress Gwenog used to play Quidditch, she stopped last year before giving birth to Master Eridanus. Miss Carina stays at home and plays with dolls." As an afterthought, he added, "The ones that Kreacher doesn't hide."

"And any close friends of the family?"

"The blood trai- " Kreacher quailed at the look Harry gave him. "The Potter and Longbottom families and the werewolf Lupin. The Potters and Lupin come here twice a week for dinner; and Master Sirius takes the family to the Potters' house during weekends."

"Tell me more about the Potters," said Harry.

"Master James works in the Ministry of Magic. He works in the Advisory Office to Minister Bagnold. Mistress Lily works as an Unspeakable three days of the week. The boy-who-lived Jamie is close friends with Neville Longbottom and Miss Carina. The other Potter boy doesn't speak much – he doesn't come here - I do not know his name," Harry's nostrils flared and Kreacher. "Forgive me, master. I have not been told his name before. He doesn't come for dinner with the others."

There was a knock and the door opened immediately. Sirius Black stepped in. He looked around and raised an eyebrow in surprise at the lack of the portrait.

"Kreacher, where's my dear old mother?" he asked.

"Master Henry asked Kreacher to remove portrait because it was giving him a headache," said Kreacher. "So Kreacher sent it with the rest of the rubbish."

Sirius' eyes widened. For a moment, he appeared to tremble in shock and then he burst out laughing. "This is rich," he said jubilantly. When he finished laughing, he looked at Harry with remorse and said, "I'd like to apologise for my earlier behaviour."

Harry stared at the ground, and enjoyed the increasing guilt in his supposed uncle's face.

"You are too young to understand, Henry," began Sirius with more kindness than he had shown since St. Mungo's. He hesitated. "It's just that - my wife - you see - well, never mind."

"Aunt Gwenog doesn't want me here," Harry supplied helpfully.

Sirius started slightly at his sharp comment and nodded slowly. "Don't judge her harshly for that," he said. "She will come around, I hope. Until then, just stay out of her way and don't be upset if I speak to you harshly in front of her."

Harry nodded, beginning to understand the precarious situation Sirius was in. His wife was disappointed that someone else had usurped the title and estate that her son was supposed to inherit one day. Harry wondered how far she would go to secure her son's inheritance - would she perhaps try to stage an accident involving him? But then his gaze fell on Kreacher and he grinned. The house-elf wouldn't let that happen.

"It's okay," Harry told Sirius. "I've got Kreacher for company."

Harry was sitting in the Black library. The large room was an old-fashioned Georgian library with massive bookshelves arranged against the walls. A fire place roared with flames - the main source of light in the room - and Harry sat in front of it on a comfortable rug with a dozen books piled on the floor near him. Most of the books were for display to anyone who barged in. Basic books on elementary magical theory, history and Latin. But hidden in the pile would always be the one or two books that Harry was actually keen to read.

During his previous life, after the war against Voldemort he had mainly focussed on developing his duelling skills as he felt that was his only strength. But now given this opportunity, Harry began to read about the other more wondrous and fascinating areas of magic. The book he was presently reading was about wards.

Wards were essentially a field of magic that would remain independent of the caster's continuous presence and protect the inside from what it was designed to protect. It belonged to a class of magic described in the book as Spells with Protective Potential. Level 1 SPP included the most basic protective spells such as an ordinary shield and conjuring barriers. Level 2 SPP included more advanced shields and some ordinary wards. The Levels increased to number 10, which were the strongest three wards that could be used. To Harry's surprise, it didn't include blood wards, which were a Level 7 SPP. Even the wards surrounding Hogwarts, which were based on a specific conjunction of the moon and the planet with three other stars and could not be breached unless the same alignment was achieved, was a Level 8 SPP. The strongest three in Level 10 were referred to by special names - Nakor's Ward, the Shield of Heracles and the Crystal Caves.

"That's an interesting collection of books."

The book slipped from Harry's fingers and he jumped up, startled by the gentle interruption from behind him. He turned around and nearly gasped. Even without having met her, he knew who stood before him - Lily Potter. She smiled at him gently, making his insides turn to jelly.

"A bit above your level, aren't they?" she asked, as she joined him on the rug. She picked up a book - Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. "You'll do this in Hogwarts in your first year." She laughed lightly when she realized that the boy had been staring at her without blinking, and the sound was very melodious to Harry. "I'm sorry, Henry, I should have introduced myself. I'm Lily Potter, your Uncle Sirius and Aunt Gwenog's close friend. You can call me Aunt Lily or Mrs. Potter, whichever you prefer."

Harry nodded.

"We arrived an hour ago and Sirius told us about you. I came to see what was keeping you in the library. Do you want to come out and play with Neville and Jamie? They are the same age as you."

Harry frowned, wondering why her other son was left out. But he had no other option but to nod and stand up. He followed Lily out of the library and joined the rest of the family and guests in the living room.

"Finally!" James Potter welcomed him with a wide smile. "The prodigal heir returns."

Harry noted how Gwenog's expression darkened at those words and he tried his best to smile. He was introduced by a slightly aloof Sirius to Lily and James, Frank Longbottom, Alice Longbottom, Remus Lupin, and then to the two children - Jamie Potter and Neville Longbottom. Harry observed the twin brother of his alternate-self with interest. Jamie didn't have any scar on his forehead or anywhere else visible. In all, he seemed a very normal kid, with a streak of mischief, if Harry could read anything from the smile on his face.

In fact, the Potters appeared to be a very decent family. Lily was nice and gentle. James was jovial and friendly. Their son Jamie appeared as mischievous as a Marauder-spawn ought to be. Harry just couldn't realize why they didn't treat the fourth member of their family as such; why they neglected him to such an extent that he was driven to Death Eaters and ultimately to an abyss deeper than Voldemort himself.

"Come on!" said Jamie. "Let's go find Carina!" He rushed towards the stairs to go upstairs. Harry hesitated as he wasn't permitted to go upstairs. He looked at Sirius.

"Jamie, why don't you go upstairs and fetch Carina while Harry and Neville get acquainted with each other?" Gwenog cut in. "There's no real need for all three of you to barge up."

Harry pretended to sigh in resignation, a motion he was certain was picked up by some of the other adults in the room. He followed Neville out of the living room to the den. They took a couch each.

"So, you're Henry Black?"

Harry nodded. He decided to let his seven year old instinct take charge. "Do you want cookies?" he asked keenly, and Neville looked at him hopefully. "Kreacher," Harry called out. "Can we have some chocolate chip cookies?"

"At once, Master Henry!" Kreacher vanished, and returned momentarily with a plate filled with cookies.

"Wow!" Neville was impressed. "He has never been so polite to Carina or Uncle Sirius or Aunt Gwenog; and she is - well, she's very strict and gives clear orders, but Kreacher never obeys so easily and always looks for a way to do mischief."

Harry smiled mystically. But he was saved from explaining as the door opened and Jamie and Carina entered the den. Carina looked joyfully at Harry and leapt on the couch next to him. Harry was slightly surprised; in the three days he had been living in Grimmauld Place, the girl had kept herself away from him. He was fairly certain Gwenog had told her to stay away from him, and she took this moment with the guests present to get acquainted with her cousin.

"Cousin Henry, how's your stay been so far?" she asked politely, and Harry smiled at her formal tone.

"It's been very good, Cousin Carina," he matched her formal tone. "Thank you for asking."

The other two boys looked from Harry to Carina with befuddled expressions. Carina ignored them, and to Harry's surprise, her lips quivered as if she was about to start crying; and then she dropped the formality and grabbed him in a crushing hug. "You must hate me!" she wailed against his ears. "But it isn't my fault. Mummy told me not to speak to you more than necessary and she gets very angry when someone doesn't listen to her. I wanted to -"

"It's okay, cousin," Harry patted her back awkwardly, while turning to the other boys for help, but they were laughing at his predicament. "I'm glad you do care."

"And papa tells me not to cross mummy because then he has to suffer her bad moods," she continued as if he hadn't said a word. "But he told me I could speak with you if I managed to do so without getting mummy upset. Papa's not that mean, you know, he feels very guilty about all this."

"Carina, it's okay!" Harry said a bit more firmly. He parted from her grasp and took a deep breath. "Air, that's what I needed."

Jamie laughed out. "If you think she's bad, wait till you meet Mrs. Weasley!"

"Oh, I have met her," said Harry. "Mr. Weasley helped me find Uncle Sirius." He pretended to hesitate. "I'm sorry, Jamie." He hesitated again. "Kreacher told me you had a brother. Why isn't he here?"

The mood immediately dampened - at least, for Jamie, while Neville and Carina seemed oblivious to it completely. "He has poor health and misses out on a lot," said Jamie, and Harry could tell without having to use Legilimency that it was a lie.

Harry let the topic go at that. The children proceeded to play games with magical toy soldiers that actually fought each other viciously. At one point, when Jamie's axe-wielding warrior hacked the head off of Carina's knight-in-shining-armour, she was traumatized and crept towards Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and allowed her back into his embrace.

"It fixes on its own when the game is over," Harry told her consolingly, patting her dark hair. "And you!" Harry turned to the offending figurine. "You needn't have been so brutal. Just for that -" He turned to his pack of three werewolves. "Get him, boys!" The werewolves charged forward and destroyed the axe-wielding warrior. Harry turned to Carina and patted her back. "See? He's gone now." But the brutality of the werewolves only made the girl even more upset and she clung to Harry even more tightly.

"Let's maybe play something else for awhile," Jamie suggested, while sharing a grin with Neville.

Neville stood up. "I hear Aunt Lily's voice. It's dinner time."

Harry allowed the two boys to go first while he cleared up the pieces and Carina helped him in silence. He looked at the girl tenderly before they headed out and touched her cheek. "It's okay, Carina. You don't have to be so upset about avoiding me. I understand."

"Thanks, Cousin Henry," she grinned at him. Her earlier hysteria forgotten.