I hope you enjoy :)

oOoOoOo

The first thing Devlin noticed was that it wasn't Godric's Hollow.

It was bigger, and newer, and smelled like baking. The walls were a soft cream, the sofa a deep burgundy leather, and there were pictures every direction he turned. Harry dusted himself off.

"You're awfully good at that," Harry said, looking at Devlin, robes clean, feet sturdy. He was smiling and while it wasn't entirely an at-ease smile, it reached his eyes in a way Devlin's own Harry's smiles usually didn't.

"Yes," he said. He turned and found a mantel covered in pictures of chubby babies and giggling children. He could feel Harry's eyes on him. When he glanced back, Harry was rocking on his heels, his hands tucked into his pants pockets.

"You must be hungry," Harry said after a moment. "I'll make you something. Then we'll get you into some regular clothes and take a trip to a healer."

He motioned for Devlin to follow. Devlin did so slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was reminded of the first time he had come back home and been so frightened. He felt a bit like that now - entirely removed from his element, small, unprotected, and a surrounded by strangers who he was supposed to know.

There were more pictures in the hallway.

The kitchen was bright and big. Harry motioned to the table. It was large and made of a dark thick wood, with a bench on either side. Devlin felt even more small settled at it. In their home, the table was meant to comfortably fit four people, and sometimes Remus and Sirius came over to join them, squeezing everyone closer together. This table could have comfortably seated eight. There were two miniature Quiddich goal posts in the middle of the table. Devlin reached forward and bought one to himself to be examined. It was a salt shaker. The other must be pepper.

"Ginny bought them a few years back," Harry said conversationally, as he dug through a pantry that was clearly magically charmed to be larger inside than outside and keep whatever was in it cold. Devlin had a muggle fridge in his room, magically charmed to work without electricity. He noticed there were over mitts with golden snitch designs on them. "Does your dad like Quidditch?"

"I guess," Devlin said. "Not enough to have a salt and pepper of the goal posts, though."

"Really?" Harry's brow was pressed down further, and of all the things Devlin had said, that seemed to confuse him the most. "Maybe your mum just likes something else. Ginny does all the decorating."

Devlin put the salt shaker back.

"We don't have any decorations," Devlin said. "I don't think my mum thinks of those things."

Harry had pulled bread and cheese and ham out of the pantry. He paused to look at Devlin.

"What does she think of, then?"

"Wards, and weapons, and keeping us safe, I suspect."

"Wards?"

"She is a ward breaker. And builder. She works for Dumbledore and the Ministry, of course. She was the youngest ward breaker to be hired in a long time. She's one of the few people they call to undo Voldemort's wards."

"That's impressive. I work with some of those people and they understand magic at a level I can't really even comprehend." He had put together a basic sandwich and was heading to the table. "Does she…look like him?"

"No," Devlin said simply, taking the plate from him.

"What's she look like?" It was casual curiosity, but Devlin looked up from examining his sandwich anyway.

"I don't want to talk about her. I don't intend for you to ever find her. I think she's probably happier not knowing she is his. Maybe she has children - and they'll be happier not knowing too."

Harry looked at him for a long moment, seeming to consider Devlin's outright defiance to answer to him on a whole topic that might seem integral to understanding Devlin.

"Have you ever been to St Mungo's?"

"Yes, once - for a head injury."

Harry nodded.

"Good. It can be a bit hectic your first time. I should find you some new clothes though. Are you going to eat?"

"I haven't decided," Devlin said, plainly. Harry frowned.

"Are you not hungry?"

"I donno," he said. He didn't know - he worried about Harry trying to dose him with a calming draught and he worried that he would just throw it all up the next time he looked at this Harry's eyes (so alive!).

Harry said nothing for a moment.

"I'm going to try to find you clothes. Will you be okay for a moment?"

Devlin nodded, and Harry left him - hesitating at the door.

Devlin did eat - slowly and only a tiny bit. Harry seemed unimpressed upon his return, but said nothing.

"I don't really need a healer," Devlin said, when Harry put the extra clothes down on the table. "I'm fine."

"You traveled across dimensions. We don't know how. There could be any number of things wrong. You could have an internal bleed, or a head injury, or-"

"I'm really okay."

"Yeah well, I can't take your word for it. I wouldn't expect someone to take my word for it, if I were in the same situation."

Devlin shrugged. He pushed the plate away from himself and picked up the clothes.

"Where's the bathroom?"

Devlin made sure to transfer the little stone into the new pants.

OoOoOoOoO

Saint Mungo's was just as busy and hectic as ever. Just like in his world, the front receptionist recognized Harry.

"For a minute I thought maybe one of your boys got into trouble again, Mr. Potter!" She said, smiling at him kindly. She collected some papers. "Is he from work?"

She didn't appear to be asking in a nosy way, probably more-so that she could give him the proper packet to fill out.

Harry looked at him for a moment, seeming to consider what he might say.

"No," he said after a moment. She frowned infinitesimally, but remained polite and professional. Devlin was the one left frowning. He very clearly was part of Harry's work. When they were seated and Harry was filling out the papers, he asked after it in a hushed voice.

"You'd be surprised at how behind Wizarding Law is in terms of custody and things like that. Being a ward of the Ministry would really complicate things. You have my blood - awkward to explain, yeah, but under Wizarding Law blood means everything and you're mine if I can prove we share blood. I've learned that the hard way through some cases."

"So you're just going to say I'm yours? Doesn't everyone know how many children you have?"

"Yes, they probably do," Harry said. For his part he seemed undisturbed and almost dismissive. "I already discussed it with Ginny. When is your birthday?"

"December 21st…she wanted you to say I was yours?" It hadn't been missed by Devlin that Ginny had not been home when they got there.

Harry looked up from the paperwork.

"I told you she said there was nowhere else you should be, didn't I? We don't know whether we will get you home this week or if it will take us years, Devlin."

Harry had gone back to filling out papers, but Devlin was still staring at him. Harry had accepted Devlin - without knowing for how long. Without knowing anything much about him. It was so very Harry, that Devlin nearly wanted to cry.

"You alright?" Harry asked. Devlin had been still and silent for awhile - long enough for Harry to fill out the papers and bring them to the receptionist. "Hope I spelled your name the right way. D-E-V-L-I-N, right? I should have asked you."

"Yeah, that's how it's spelled. I'm alright."

A moment later someone was calling them up and showing them to a room.

Devlin had had a full diagnostic before and so he turned to Harry before the Healer came into the room.

"My results are going to come back abnormally, but I didn't injury my head this time." Harry frowned, urging him to explain. "I have seizures. If you say that to the Healer we're going to need to explain that they are not magically treatable, which really just means there is one cause - and he's probably not going to guess it. Voldemort is dead here, and I am a child. I have seizures from being tortured with Crucio…it's what happens right before the person just becomes…nothing. Not many people manage to stay on that cusp at the time or for a prolonged period, since each seizure is like another dose of Crucio…but I'm a werewolf, and Dark Magic works a bit different on me. And I have a potion you probably don't here, which is fine because I know how to brew it myself."

It was simplified and not wholly truthful, but the whole truth was far too complicated.

Nevertheless, Harry looked overwhelmed.

"Are you saying you were tortured for a significant enough time to-"

"Yes. If you want to explain it to the Healer, I will - but I dunno if you really want that on my chart if you've decided to say I'm yours."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. The Healer stepped through the door. He was a young man, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose.

"Hello, Devlin." He looked up briefly to smile at Devlin. "You're here for…"

"He accidentally disapperated. He hurt his arm but…I want to make sure everything else is okay. How are you, Charlie?"

"I'm alright Harry. I thought for sure it'd be Tuesday before I saw you in here."

Harry shrugged and grinned.

"You know me!"

"Right well. I've never met you before Devlin…" he glanced at Harry, but Harry said nothing, and he did not press. "Let's get you checked out."

He examined everything in a rudimentary way, which ensured he did not notice Devlin's seizure as it was not a new injury. His arm, however, quickly got attention. It was healed and bandaged quickly enough, but then Charlie was pushing his glasses up again and turning to Harry, an anxious look on his face.

"Is he case related, Harry?"

"Why?" Harry asked it in an open-ended way, the word calm and collected.

"Well the thing is…the injury on his arm…it's not from any kind of accidental magic or splinching. It's from a spell. It was clearly intensional…so…if he isn't related to a case, Harry I-"

"It's complicated, Charlie."

Charlie bit his lip.

"The thing is…"

"What if I leave the room and let you talk to Devlin and ensure he's alright, yeah? Then maybe you and I can talk privately too? I genuinely didn't know his injury wasn't from splinching, and Devlin and I will talk about anyone that might want to hurt him."

"Alright, we can try that first, Harry."

So Harry stood up and left the room. Charlie looked at him.

"So ah, would you like to tell me who hurt you?"

"Not Harry."

"Alright, that's good to know. Do you think this person can hurt you again? Are you scared? Do you want to tell me who it was?"

"They can't hurt me anymore." Devlin was pretty sure he'd killed them.

"Do you feel safe with Harry?"

"Yes. He's been good to me."

Charlie tapped his chart against his other hand.

"I'm going to talk to Mr. Potter for just a moment, alright?"

Devlin nodded.

OoOoOoO

Harry had been relatively quiet as they checked out of the hospital and entered into the busy streets beyond.

"Let's get something to eat. I need to sit and think," Harry said, after a while. He seemed to know where he was going and turned into a small cafe. He quickly ordered himself a coffee and a treacle tart, then tapped a display case and motioned for Devlin to pick one. Devlin had never ordered from anywhere like this that he could remember. He pointed toward a cookie, since they looked like ones his own dad might have made, and he let Harry order him apple juice.

Harry picked a table in the far back, and discreetly cast a silencing charm around them.

"So, tell me about your arm," Harry said, bluntly.

Devlin looked at his cookie for a long minute.

"It got hurt," he said, plainly. "By a spell, just like the Healer said."

"How, where, and when?" Harry's voice was final, his regard critical, but he followed it up by taking a sip of his coffee and a bite of the treacle treat.

"I live in a very different world from you," he said, looking at his cookie. "I don't think you understand. I've never even been to a place like this before. Even if my parent's weren't constantly worried about Voldemort kidnapping me again, they don't have time. They work all the time - my dad gets called away almost every night to deal with a Death Eater raid. My mum pours over manuscripts, trying to stay ahead of him and keep important places warded. I've been in four open fights and was in a fifth right before I came here - that's all. It happens. Usually more when I am around."

He did not intend to tell Harry that his own father was dead or that, upon returning, Devlin was sure he would be in many more battles. Just thinking about it made this place seem even more surreal.

Harry's brow was furrowed, not with disbelief but with something similar that Devlin could not quite identify.

"It's hard for me to remember that world. We got pretty close for awhile. I spent my seventh year on the run, killing off Horcrux and trying to stay alive. You knew that word when I said it back at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"Yes." He didn't see any need to elaborate. Harry peered intently at him.

"I never would have wanted my children to grow up in a world like that."

Devlin shrugged.

"Someone I knew used to say you find happiness where you can. It's mostly true. Even while I was kidnapped, and all I could think of was survival, I found happiness. Perhaps the scale by which you measure it changes, but you feel it nevertheless, and in darkness even the tiniest flame is bright."

Harry took another sip of coffee.

"You're really not like any of my children here. Maybe closest to Albus." He furrowed his brow, seeming deep in thought for a moment. "Albus is the most like me."

Devlin ate his cookie, and Harry sipped his coffee, and a comfortable silence swaddled them within Harry's impenetrable charm.

OoOoOoO

The first thing he noticed was how happy she seemed. She was in the kitchen, settled with her back to the door, chatting with Molly Weasley who was cooking at her stove. A little girl, hair as bright as Emma's, was coloring across from her. Ginny's voice was warm, and sweet, and reminded him of his own mother as she talked about a recent letter from one of her children. The little girl - Lily - saw Harry first. She tumbled out of the chair with all of Harry's ungracefulness, and ran to him. Harry enveloped her in a hug, and her curious eyes found Devlin from the crook of Harry's arm.

They were brown.

In that instant, Devlin felt all the doubt shed from him and he backed up, lost for breath.

Because if someone had wanted to torture him. If Grandfather had wanted to create an elaborate nightmare. If he were dying and reliving and regretting - those eyes would be blue. Blue like Emma's eyes.

Not brown.

He bumped into the wall behind him, and Harry gently disengaged himself from his daughter, and turned to look at him. In the kitchen he could now see Ginny's face - warm and healthy and without the burden of Devlin's world's nightmares - and Molly's kind grandmotherly expression. Harry turned, his face open and concerned, his body leaning toward Devlin and for a moment all Devlin could see was his dad.

Dead. He is dead.

His breath quickened and his chest tightened and he wished he would seize so that he would slip into oblivion.

"Don't touch me, I didn't say you could!"

Harry stopped immediately, his hand awkwardly left in the air, half way between the gap separating them.

"Alright," he said, so calmly. There was a knowingness in his eyes that Devlin did not like. But then he turned.

"Hey Lily, can you get a plate for Devlin?"

She peered for a moment in the way children do - stuck in their thoughts in a way that made time pass unfelt around them. Then she turned, and fetched a plate from a lower cabinet. She put it on the table and sat down again. Her brown eyes never left him, though.

"You don't have to rush," Harry said to him, "we can go in when you're ready."

"I'm not dreaming," Devlin said. It felt like a heavy burden just admitting it aloud.

"No, you're not dreaming," Harry confirmed. It felt both better and worse to hear someone else say the words. "Is there something that made you realize that?"

"Her eyes are brown," he whispered. Molly had started up a purposeful-conversation in the kitchen. "If I were dreaming, if someone else was trying to torture me, they'd be blue. Emma's eyes are blue."

Harry did not question his logic - he merely nodded in a comforting way.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes." Not dreaming. Not dreaming. Not dreaming. Heran a hand through his hair and tried to straighten his face. "I'll be fine."

He stepped into the kitchen. Lily looked at him curiously and also nervously. Ginny smiled at him softly, but said nothing at first. Molly seemed to hold herself back with great effort from rushing to give him a hug. Instead she waved at him and smiled.

"Hello, Devlin," Ginny said, smiling quietly at him. Her hands were wrapped around a tea cup. Her eyes went up to Harry's face. "Was everything okay with him at the healers?"

"He seems unharmed by his travels," Harry said, nodding.

"Good," she said. She smiled at him again. "Would you like to sit down, Devlin? My mum, Molly-" she pointed, " is making dinner tonight."

"That sounds wonderful, thank you Miss…Potter." He smiled as charmingly as he could. Ginny seemed to see through his awkwardness, and Devlin flinched internally, because he knew it was the move Tom Riddle would have done, too. He quickly tried to cover up his charming smile and replace it with something more genuine, even though he knew it just made him look nervous.

"You can call me Ginny, Devlin."

"Uh, okay. I'll try."

She smiled with some humor and nodded.

Harry motioned for him to sit, and Devlin awkwardly chose the seat furthest from everyone, because he was not sure who to sit next to.

Lily had not taken her eyes off of him.

There was silence for a moment. Devlin tried to think of something gracious to say.

"Are you really from a different world? My mom said you're dads, but not really. Are you really staying here?"

Ginny closed her eyes. Clearly Lily had not been supposed to ask him such a frank question.

"Yes," he said. "I'm from a different world and I am staying here."

"There are already so many boys here," she said, dramatically, rolling her eyes.

"Lily!" Ginny admonished lightly.

"Well it's true."

Her eyes were pressing upon him, unabashed.

"My apologies. If it helps I have a little sister and most of the time I don't annoy her." It still felt so normal to talk about Emma, even though she was painfully far away.

"What's her name? What's she like doing? Is she very little?"

"She's your age. Her name is Emma. She likes coloring, and baking, and dancing. Sometimes I help her draw things. I help her get ingredients from the top cabinets most of the time. And," he made a face, "I do dance with her sometimes. She's not very good."

"You know how to dance?"

"Sure. I went to a formal Ministry Ball once. I only really know formal dancing, though."

"Like…when you get all dressed up and dance to slow music?"

"Pretty much."

"Did your mum make you learn to do that?" She looked somewhat horrified, but also terribly curious about his response.

"Uh, no - my mum doesn't dance. At least…well I think she knows how to for stuff like the Ministry Ball, I suppose. But she doesn't like to."

"Who taught you then?"

"A girl. She ah…worked for my Grandfather."

"Was she pretty?"

"More crazy than pretty," he said, awkwardly. Molly and Harry were looking at him with curiosity. Ginny was frowning thoughtfully. "I didn't really like her much, but it's good to know how to dance."

"You're odd, aren't you?" It wasn't said cruelly. And it was true.

Devlin laughed.

"I'm not a regular boy," he said. "You've got gumption."

"I donno what that is."

"He means you have attitude," Ginny said, raising her eyebrows at the girl. Lily seemed entirely unfazed.

"Is my mum dead in your world?" She asked it while smirking at her mum. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"No. She teaches Quiddich at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Lily seemed suddenly fascinated. "Are you in her class?"

"Yes." He paused. "She is, ah, very good at making sure all the students stay safe. Sometimes that means she yells at me. I tend to go too fast."

"Right on. I think I nearly got expelled at my first flying lesson," Harry said, chuckling. "Are you good at flying, then?"

"Ah, yes - I think so. My dad says I am."

"How can you not know if you're good at flying? I know I'm good at flying." Lily seemed as confident as Emma, if more rowdy and rough around the edges - a fire in her belly that innocence had allowed to grow vibrant. It lit her eyes up.

"I don't fly much," he said, shrugging.

"Why not?"

"I donno. I like other things more."

"Like what?"

"Understanding magic, I suppose. I like wards. I like examining magic - it's like a tangled spiderweb and I like picking the strands apart and moving them. Just moving one strand can entirely change a spell."

"You experiment with spells?" Harry asked, frowning with disbelief and curiosity.

"Yes. I've started experimenting with my Patronus. I think I can make him a shield. I've been mulling it over in my head. There are some similar strands between the Patronus spell and a full-body shield."

"You can cast a Patronus? Not even James can do that!"

"James?"

"My big brother. He's a third year."

"Oh."

"What year are you?"

"First."

"Wait until you tell James you can make a Patronus. I wish you could show him - it stinks you can't do magic outside of school!"

"I can't?" He looked between Lily and Harry.

"Well no - you can't preform Underage magic outside of school." Harry seemed perplexed that he wouldn't already know that. "It's the law. You'd risk being expelled from Hogwarts."

"Oh," he said. He paused. "Why?"

"Underage wizards have no reason to need to preform magic and it becomes a risk of exposure versus necessity. Do you not have this law in your world?"

"No - we use common sense. But then again…I think in my world they assume there is more necessity. One of the first charms we learn is a shield charm."

Ginny's brow drew down in sadness. Harry looked troubled.

"Yes well, I guess I can understand why your world would do away with that stipulation."

Soon after, Molly brought the food over.

"What's a stipulation? Does that mean at your house you can do magic?"

Ginny spent a good portion of dinner trying to explain in a friendly way why Devlin was allowed to do magic in his world but not hers. Lily seemed intent to pick apart her arguments - even though she did not even yet own a wand.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Ginny had gone up to help Lily to bed, Harry had gone to his office, 'for just a moment', to quickly make a fire call - which left Molly with him. She pretended to busy herself sending dishes into the sink. The soapy washcloth deftly cleaned them, the faucet would turn on and rinse them, and a waiting dry cloth would dry them before setting them neatly in their cabinets.

"Your eyes remind me of her," she said after a moment, no longer pretending to be busy. Devlin looked at her. Like everyone else here, she seemed a bit more vibrant and happy. "I suppose just in the way you look through them."

"Someone else has told me something like that," he said, softly.

"Ginny told me Sirius is alive in your world. I'm sure he regals Harry with stories of his parents all the time." She smiled wistfully. "He died here when Harry was still in school."

"He tells me about their school days, sometimes - but he's never told me I look like my grandmother."

She frowned.

"May I ask who, then?"

"Severus says I look like her."

He expected to be met with disbelief, but instead that wistfulness and fondness overtook her features.

"Ah yes. They knew each other as children, you know."

"Yes. I saw her in his head once." He frowned. "Does everyone know that they were friends here?"

"Not everyone, but anyone close to Harry, does. Don't they in your world?"

"I don't think so. He doesn't like my dad, and my dad doesn't really like him, and…Severus doesn't really like me either."

"That's probably true. He was a strange young man. The fact became apparent after his death." She smiled, the expression now less full of fondness and more weighed down by pain.

"Alright," Harry said, as he approached the kitchen. "I let the Ministry know I have you, I'm claiming you, and I will escort you to an interview tomorrow. You can just come to work with me…if that's okay?"

"Of course." He paused. "What do they want to discuss with me?"

Harry shrugged.

"Your name, possibly your world, maybe where you learned a silent fire charm…or how to fly… that'll be in the other Aurors write up, unfortunately. Under normal circumstances they would also take custody of you - but they won't do that. They may test your blood so that it is on record you are 'mine'. You have no fear of those results, right?"

"No."

Harry nodded. He seemed to be mulling something over. Eventually he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and Devlin could see he was biting the inside of his lip.

Devlin knew.

"I can lie, sir. Impeccably. Is there something I should lie about?"

Harry looked at him - not incredulously but with a level of uncertainty. Devlin realized that even though he had shown power, Harry still believed he was just a boy.

He stood up.

"I met the Minister once, when I was about nine. I had just been brought home, and he thought I could tell him about the Dark Lord. I lied, and I fooled him into thinking I knew nothing. For many years," he paused, but then decided it was just enough of the truth, "I even fooled my father into thinking I knew less than I did. The fact is, I know a lot." Normally there would be a buzzing in his mind and a sharpness on his tongue, but there was neither, and without the charms to stop him, he continued without much thought. "I know about the cave by the sea, and I know about the hands that come out of the water, and I know about the house that overlooks the town, and the little shack, and I know that he was skinnier than me as a child, and I know that when he looks at me part of him yearns to be me and it makes him angrier because he believes, without the orphanage, without the muggles, he would have been more powerful—"

"I want you to lie about you seeing him fly," Harry said - his voice certain in Devlin's capabilities, even as his face showed his sorrow at Devlin's experiences outside of innocence. "I want you to say you learned it from Severus. The only problem is…Severus still refuses to tell me how to do it…"

Devlin's breath caught in his chest. Harry clearly wanted to know the answer before Devlin revealed it to the Ministry, and yet to tell him would reveal the part of Devlin he had wanted most to keep secret - the part he always earned to keep secret.

"There's probably a reason he doesn't tell you," Devlin said - stalling. Harry could see it, Devlin was sure.

He felt small and weak and…shameful.

"There probably is, that's true."

He did not back off, and his green eyes stayed on Devlin - somehow firm and yet gentle.

"I think I'll go check on Ginny before heading home, Harry dear."

Harry nodded at Molly, and she left the kitchen, glancing back at Devlin and smiling in what Devlin was sure she had meant to be an encouraging way.

Past, present, and the convoluted future spread out like a spiderweb around him.

He would not tell Harry that you imagined how you felt as you killed someone - as the Killing Curse ripped through your skin and out into the world - breaking off a piece of you on the way.

"You have to know what it is like to break into a million pieces, I think. At least, that's what I imagined. The way I feel when I am trying not to be somewhere but there is no escape. As light as air, as a real as a boy."

He was certain Severus and he also shared that feeling over the course of their life, and he hoped it was believable that Tom Riddle might have, as well.

There was silence, and then Harry nodded, and Devlin was almost certain he believed Devlin.