Disclaimer: Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

Buckets of Thank Yous: As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

Author's Note: Okay, quick note to clear something up. Any spelling, grammar or anything else mistakes in these Notes, thanks and disclaimer are all mine and my purple penned friend has had no input what-so-ever! LOL

Regards

Les

Three years passed in a blink for Sarasvat, training his cousins to duel in the English style he had learned as a Death Eater, learning how to physically defend himself and others from his cousin. All three of them were given lessons and exams on how to conduct a successfully-run business and a family from their aunt who was both knowledgeable and a gifted teacher. Rushil often fought against having a mere woman as a teacher but when he realised just how much knowledge his aunt had to offer, he finally shut up about it and buckled down to learn everything he could absorb. His very keen intelligence drove him to compete with his two younger cousins who were equally intelligent and competitive in their own way. The three spurred each other on to greater heights without really seeming to.

After his sixteenth birthday, Azeez was required to attend a rather prestigious school for the sons of noble families. The only reason the boys, all important members of their respective Families were allowed to attend the Joint Families School was for the purpose of meeting and greeting those who would be their peers in the world of Indian Wizardry for the next one hundred years. There he learned the ancient ceremonies he would have to take part in, the formulas for interacting with other, equally important families in all situations. More importantly, he made fast friends with the boys, building up a network of contacts that would benefit him all his life. For most of the boys it was the first taste of freedom they had ever experienced and they revelled in it.

Sarasvat sometimes acted as Azeez's confidant and often as his father, although the boy was reasonable in most of his dealings. They shared business management lessons with their Aunt, and lessons in courtly manners with their cousin in charge of the ambassadorial functions in the family. Occasionally, as Azeez grew older, they would sometimes slip away with Rushil and his group of warriors to taste the nightlife of the great sprawling city, when they would not get caught. Sarasvat always went along on these trips as he had promised, teaching the younger man how to recognise situations and handle them gracefully. Sometimes Rushil forgot his growing maturity and dragged them all into trouble, but not too often.

Azeez was completely delighted when his two older cousins managed to convince his Aunt that he would be safe enough if they took a week-long trip to Europe without a raft of servants and all the pomp and ceremony that usually accompanied the Head of Family. They first Portkeyed to Italy where Sarasvat took them to the markets in Florence and purchased European clothes, including the long-promised blue jeans and Muggle dress shirts as well as tee-shirts for Azeez. They drank coffee at a street café and watched the artists paint or perform for the public. Then they hopped over to Amsterdam, ostensibly to see the tulips and windmills but where Rushil and Azeez found a high-class wizarding brothel so that Azeez could lose his virginity in safety and learn a little about the art of lovemaking.

"It's not that I want to go to a courtesan, but I can't just go to Aunt Jalaja and ask for someone. It would cause too many high hopes and that's something I really don't want to take on. If I took a Family girl and then discarded her, she would be treated like dirt. So no matter who was given to me, I would have to keep her until she was married off. Could you imagine how terrible that would be?" Azeez asked in horror, his tongue loosened by the other product Amsterdam was so famous for.

"Yeah well, just imagine if you were in Sarasvat's position?" Rushil laughed aloud. "All those girls falling at your feet and all you want is a nice tight bumboy to play with."

One of Sarasvat's eyebrows raised sardonically, a sneer twisting his mouth. "Cannabis obviously makes you crude and uncouth, Cousin," he muttered, looking down his long nose. "Like our young cousin, I do not raise the hope in any female breast, nor do I look to any man who is not willing and who does not make the first approach. And I keep my proclivities to myself, not broadcast them around the Family for the whole world to know!"

"Ouch! That's you told, Rushil," Azeez muttered with a giggle as his older cousins faced off in a battle of wills which Rushil lost and bowed his head in acknowledgement of the reprimand.

There was no further discord on the rest of the trip and they all Portkeyed home at the end of the week, happy, relaxed and in possession of some really fine Italian Muggle souvenirs to pass out to their relatives. On quite a few occasions, Azeez could be spotted wearing jeans and a tee-shirt under his robes, if he could get away with it.

One such foray nearly ended in total disaster when Azeez managed to slip away from both Sarasvat and Rushil and take off with his friends from school. Obviously the boys had planned their outing carefully over a number of weeks as all seven boys had ditched their bodyguards and slipped away in older robes to meet up at the local market place instead of Portkeying straight to the compound where the multi-Family school was housed under strict security.

A pack of 'bandits' caught the seven boys in the marketplace where they had decided to buy vadai for their lunches and found themselves instead being beaten down with sticks. Somehow Azeez managed to send a Patronus to Sarasvat who, with Rushil and a dozen Family security troops, immediately apparated in. 'Unforgivables' were not unforgivable in India and a couple of Avada Kedravras from the two older, extremely angry wizards routed the remainder of the 'bandits'. Those bandits lying in the dirt were checked and found to be too clean and too well groomed under the surface layer of dust and grime.

When the eight sore and sorry boys were escorted home, a surprise awaited them in the shape of the Head of the Waladi family. He was giving his condolences to their aunt on the demise of her Head of Family. In a gesture of 'good will' he was offering his second son as bridegroom to Azeez's six-year-old sister to 'protect the Family in it's time of need'. Jalaja heard the pompous man out, giving him as much rope as he needed before turning and very discretely signalling Azeez to come forward.

With aplomb his aunt later praised him for, Azeez managed to give her advice on the marriage proposal his sister had just received, citing the financial and political position the Waladi Family held, their faults, weaknesses and excesses. The man was horrified, even more so when the heads of the eight bandits that had been killed were dumped on the floor in front of the dais. Their bodies had already been cast out to the dogs on the middens, Rushil informed his aunt with relish, ignoring one or two of the Waladi family escorts who stifled gasps of shock when they recognised some of the dead as friends and family.

Nothing overt was said but the offer was very graciously refused and the Waladis sent off with something very hard to swallow for their troubles. Azeez discovered he was not too old to go over Sarasvat's knee for a sound spanking and he was unable to sit down for a few days. His companions in the ill-fated romp were sent home under escort and a number of apologetic and chagrined letters were received from the other families who would have lost Heads or Heirs to Heads in the supposed bandit raid. Rushil's and Sarasvat's timely rescue had saved four scions of various families as well as one Head of Family from their own folly.

oo0oo

Ziny, his last link with his past, was dying. His cousins though he was somewhat mad to be so upset over the death of what amounted to a mere pet, but he would not leave her side until she had expired. They talked a lot in the privacy of a muffilato screen, the house-elf rambling and reminiscing while Sarasvat held her hand and waited, agreeing and nodding as the life force slowly ebbed out of the ancient elf. It did not take long, the small creature seeming too tired to even take another breath, her skinny frame even more skeletal in her last days. It was peaceful at the end, a smile a sigh and she was gone.

The tiny wizened house-elf had requested that her body be placed in the Mediterranean Sea along with her Little Master, if it wasn't too much trouble.

"Little Master came when the bad uncle strangled you and he killed the bad uncle and said I was to serve you faithfully as you had given him release from the bad uncle's spells and he was grateful. When you told me the same I knew it was true and you was a good Little Master to take his place," the elf revealed with a slight smile. "Now I go to join Little Master and you will be Master in this world, yes."

True to his word, Sarasvat had taken her body to the exact same cliff and levitated it into the water in as close to the same place as her Little Master's as he could. His cousins had accompanied him, although not understanding his attachment to a mere house-elf. They had spent a quality holiday by the ocean, swimming, laughing and being young men on holiday rather than representatives of a Family and a Cast with position. All the same, Sarasvat still missed Ziny's fussing and ordering and had not replaced her even yet.

oo0oo

It was a good life but not one that Sarasvat could spend all his life at. He enjoyed the company of his cousins, aunts and uncles, the extended family all living under one roof sharing many tasks. When his aunt started making noises about finding him a bride, he shook his head and refused point blank to even consider the dossiers she handed him of the suitable connections she had found.

"Aunt Jalaja, I will never marry, please understand that; I will never marry a girl who can be hurt or put into such a position as you have been. Oh, I know now that if I had chosen not to accept you and your care, you would have been cast down to the position of lowest slops carrier without a man to call your protector. I would not deign to put any young lady in that position nor would I ever have a daughter who might be put into that situation. It is just too much to ask of any woman."

The old woman stared up at her tall nephew in knowing amusement. "Or is it that you look more easily at men than women?"

Sarasvat felt all the colour drain from his face and the blood roared in his ears as he thought he might faint. He had been so very careful!

"Oh, come now, my child, I know exactly how you watch Sharif and a few of the other men. You never react to any of the young women who approach you in such high hopes, only to have them dashed. While loving men is no crime, it does not give rise to heirs and descendants. If you take a wife and have a child for the sake of the Family, you can always satisfy your needs with one of the boys who are also so inclined, outside the marriage."

"Oh, very convenient! And how does the poor girl fare in all of this; is she made into a laughing stock by her unfaithful husband?"

"That is how it is done in our circles, or didn't you know? As long as there is no scandal, then no criticism is levelled at anyone." His aunt carelessly shrugged.

"No, I will remain single and I am going to return to England as soon as Azeez is confirmed next week. He is ready for his place in the world and to hold him back would only cause resentment. Rushil is his friend and his true Defender and I will pass the baton to Rushil at that ceremony, too." He held up his hand as his aunt made to protest. "Azeez will hold you as his counsel and will not cast you off. We spoke of it, all three of us, when our uncle died last year and planned for the exchange. I know this is not of your scheming but it is necessary that the Family develops and learns to think for itself, yes?"

Jalaja snorted and shook her silver head. "When you came to us all those years ago, I thought, 'here is a tool easily trained to hand', but since then I have found that you play your own games and use your own strengths to strengthen and train others. Rushil has grown from a stupid, rash tool into a brave and thoughtful man. Azeez has grown into a bright, intelligent and cunning young man worthy to take his father's place, and that is due to your teachings. You were always so much older and wiser than your apparent age. It seems your English uncle did a lot to make you as you are and we should be grateful."

Sarasvat bowed his head but did not disabuse her of the idea. The only creature who ever knew he was not what he seemed had been Ziny, who had died last year of sheer old age.

oo0oo

Sarasvat had never seen a white elephant up so close before and if there hadn't been such a wide audience, he might have back-pedalled quite fast. As it was, he, Azeez and Rushil had to climb up into the howdah and take their places for the ceremony of Ascension. The whole Family was assembled, all dressed in their best, from the youngest baby to the oldest man, from the poorest slop carrier to the soon to be Head of Family. For weeks people had been arriving from all corners of India and even from around the world, bringing gifts and tributes. The kitchen staff had been set to cooking more food than Sarasvat had ever seen in one place at one time, the costs soaring as the hoard of Family all headed back for the ceremony.

Incense and aromatic oils had to be secured, silks and pearls acquired for traditional dress robes and ceremonial costumes for the main participants. Seamstresses and tailors had been hard at work day and night as the last day of the new moon approached and Azeez's eighteenth birthday roared upon them. Even more astounding, both Rushil and Azeez were to be married just before the ascension which added yet another layer of intricate ceremony and protocol to the long list of traditional ceremonies they had to cater for.

Azeez was to marry Pari Kumar, the sister of one of his long-time friends with whom he had gone to school. Madhu had been one of the boys in their ill-fated adventure to the bazaar, to be saved by Sarasvat and Rushil. That act of bravery on the part of Family Rao had caused Family Kumar to propose they make a firm and high level connection between their families. Azeez had agreed as he and Madhu were very good friends and Madhu's sister was not exactly a complete stranger to Azeez. She was a pretty girl of sixteen, slim and graceful, well trained in the arts of dancing and painting, and a very good match for Azeez.

Rushil's marriage proposal had also stemmed from the rescue, Family Krishna proposing to contract the daughter of their family Ambassador in acknowledgement of Rushil's rescue of their Scion of Family, Azeez's friend Tarak. Neha Krishna was a sturdy woman, a few years older than Rushil but very pretty with a shrewd light of intelligence in her eyes. She had already proved skilled in handling and influencing her husband-to-be. A match made in heaven, Azeez and Sarasvat teased their cousin regularly but he was too taken with the girl to rise to the bait.

There had been a number of proposals for Sarasvat too but he had steadfastly refused to take any one of them seriously even the most lucrative. Azeez had threatened to order him but when Sarasvat used the counter-threat of leaving immediately, the young man had backed down and even apologised.

"I just don't want you to go away!" Azeez whined, acting like a seven-year-old, rather than seventeen.

Sarasvat shook his head. "Don't be silly, Az, I will only be a Portkey away; you know that. You can always come and visit me in England whenever you want to. I will buy a house with lots of bedrooms just for you."

The young man sighed and shrugged. "Still won't be the same, and when will I ever get away from this place! Once I am Ascended to Head of Family, I will be stuck here forever and ever!"

"Oh, you poor, poor, badly-done-by child!" Sarasvat teased, making his younger cousin slap his arm in exasperated amusement.

Of course, today, faced with an elephant, Azeez had nothing but teasing revenge on his cousin who was arrayed in the traditional dress of a Defender of the Family, golden breastplate, greaves and turban wrapped helmet. A long sword hung at Sarasvat's side and his wand was conspicuously holstered across his chest ready to draw in an instant. Two long peacock plumes hung from the back of his turban, waving in the breeze and threatening to get crumpled if caught on everything, especially when the elephant tried to pick one of them off.

Rushil rescued his traditional garb with a laugh and an experienced hand, feeding the ceremonial elephant a piece of something from his pocket. They had assembled in the temple courtyard to make the procession back to the house and take possession of it. It was all very ceremonial and based in the ancient days of conquest when a triumphant hero rode his war elephants into the enemy compound after slaughtering and enslaving all the remaining members of the defeated house. Instead of being arrayed in chains of iron, the rest of the household would be arrayed in paper and flower chains, garlands hanging from the eaves and lucky pictograms drawn on the flagstones.

After a great deal of thought, it had been decided that Sarasvat would act the part of the previous Head of House's Defender and hand over the reins to the new, younger Head of House, even if Rushil was actually older than him. Once Azeez was installed, then his wedding ceremony was to take place. Barely a week later, it would be Rushil's turn to be wed. All three of them had gone to the temple the night before and were now ready to commence the ceremony, even if it did involve getting onto the blasted elephant.

The mahout reached down and held out a hand, Rushil lifted Sarasvat's foot and put it on the elephant's bent leg and, with a heave and a push from below, Sarasvat suddenly found him self high above the assembly of priests sitting beside his cousin in the jewelled and mirrored howdah. Rushil leaped up neatly and without a problem, his smug expression wiped away when the elephant began to walk, tossing him off-balance. His cousins laughed as he stumbled into his seat and they left the temple yard, all three ducking reflexively as the arch barely seemed high enough to let them out. Children ran in the elephant's wake as the three young men tossed sweetmeats and coins to them. Men and women bowed and offered prayers, brushing the elephant's painted sides for luck as the procession wound through the streets toward House Rao.

The main portal gates, large, iron studded and solid, were thrown open on this most special of days, a curtain of flower strings guarding the open gateway. The elephant strode majestically through and came to stand under the first floor balcony, the howdah exactly level with the flooring. Rising, Azeez stepped onto the henna-painted wood, his bare feet picking up the dye patterns as he made the traditional pause and sweep with his eyes. Below, the ranks of family were kneeling on the flagstones, the higher ranks on small cushions, the lesser ranks on cloths or even on the bare stone, heads bowed as their new Lord and Master took in the sight.

Sarasvat stepped out of the howdah and took his position at his cousin's shoulder, ready to defend him against all comers, or so it would have been in times long past. Rushil stepped out last and took his place at Azeez's left shoulder, equally straight and keen-eyed. The Mahout gently urged his beautifully caparisoned elephant away from the balcony and off to the stall prepared for it while the ceremony commenced. Still on display, the three young men cast haughty looks over the kneeling, bowing crowd as Aunt Jalaja came forward with the two girls his cousins were going to marry and gracefully knelt before them.

As he was not about to claim a girl, Sarasvat raised his aunt to her feet while his cousins did the honour for their prospective brides. The girls lead them all inside away from the eyes of the crowd to where bowls of water were set out to wash their feet and hands. Plates of dates and saffron rice were then presented and each young man took a taste, symbolising their agreement to share the food and the fortunes of the Family from then onward. Finally Sarasvat rose and held out the Baton of Defender to his cousin who went on one knee and took the length of gold leaf and painted wood in both hands. The sword and the golden breastplate were then passed over, and Sarasvat stood only in his silk robes while Rushil wore the heavy plate ceremonial garb that looked so much better on him.

His part in the service done, Sarasvat carefully led his aunt away to a back room where she had a chance to rest while Sarasvat peered over the pierced work screen to watch the rest of the ceremony, thankful that he was no longer on display for all to gawk at.

"You will be at the feast as you are part of the upper staff of the Family," his aunt reminded him with a smile. "Azeez will be married at the high point of the festival tomorrow and Rushil the day after. Then you are free of your duties to the Family. You've done well, Sarasvat, even though it is not your nature to be the centre of these formalities. You have brought your cousins up to be fine young men and I am proud of you," she murmured, as he returned to her side, astonished at the words of praise that were so unusual and unlooked-for.

"It wasn't exactly an onerous duty," Sarasvat murmured, feeling himself blush but his Aunt just smiled and patted his hands.

"Take the compliment and smile, Child," she teased, dropping a kiss on his cheek and laughing at his squirming. "Have you everything packed and ready for your move? You know I don't want you to go, don't you? I shall miss you very much, my child. Promise you will write regularly and come visit me as often as you can, won't you?"

"Yes, Aunt Jalaja, I promise."

oo0oo

Nothing had changed, or so it seemed, when compared to his older, borrowed memories. Looking around the Spartan room, Sarasvat smiled and prodded the single bed with a finger. The wardrobe was scarred and battered with the long-term abuse of students. The floorboards were so well used, the polish had worn away from the high-traffic areas. The stair risers were worn to hollows in the middle of the treads while the edges still looked new. The halls and lecture theatres of the Royal College of Potions Makers looked and smelled exactly the same; the library was just as silent and dusty as it had been all those years ago when he had first attended the School. Those not rich enough to pay full tuition still slaved away in the Great Hall once a week making bulk potions for St Mungo's or laboured in the greenhouses at the adjoining Royal Agricultural College for the same purpose.

He Portkeyed back to England just yesterday after the month long celebrations that marked his cousin's ascension to Head of Family and both his cousins' weddings. His Aunt had made sure his place at the college was booked and paid for, his accommodation was also ready and he had all the textbooks and ingredients he could possibly need for the next three years. Azeez had assured him that if he needed anything else, all he need do was Floo call and it was his. As his NEWTs were on file with the Ministry, there was no need to sit an entrance exam and he was ready to begin his training to become a Potions Maker. After giving it careful thought, he had decided to pass his Honorarium exam within those three years but wait until he was somewhat older before going for his Mastery. After all, Severus Snape was the youngest person to gain mastery ever and who was he to attempt to destroy that record?

To amuse himself, he took on the tutoring of a young Pureblood who had failed his NEWTs. The former Hogwarts student had done well in everything except his potions which, it seemed, suffered when Professor McGonagall had to employ a less qualified wizard to teach the subject. Unfortunately, Gillis McLaughlin was a lively young man who didn't take anything seriously, including his studies. He refused to call Sarasvat by name but insisted on calling him Nash or if he was being particularly perverse, Sarah-Vat. Taking the lesser of the two evils, Sarasvat finally allowed himself to be called Nash by all and sundry, the Anglicisation of his name easing his passage in some circles, it seemed.

A year later, Nash was invited out to the small village of Kilbridie in rural Essex where the local potions honorarium was selling his business. It was a mixed business, Muggle and wizarding, in keeping with the nature of the village, one of the many Wizard/Muggle communities that had sprung up in the wake of the Second Voldemort War. The place was badly run-down and in need of a complete restocking of the inventory. Even better, there was a thatched cottage on a parcel of developed gardens a few miles up the road from the Apothecary for his occupation and his growing of raw ingredients for the shop. Under the Apothecary there was a fully equipped, if rather old fashioned potions laboratory, complete with room for experimentation as well as the day-to-day brewing an apothecarist needed to do to keep his stocks well supplied. It was perfect!

A call to Zurich had his gold deposit transferred back to Gringotts, the goblins preferring to keep it in precious metal rather than change it into galleons. The sale went through as Nash finished his training with his Honorarium qualification. He framed it and hung it on the wall as he settled down to rural life amid the small community who welcomed the new, albeit foreign brewer, if not with open arms, then with cautious enthusiasm.

He extended and redecorated Laburnum Cottage to suit his own tastes and restocked the shop with potions of his own creation. He chose to present his concoctions in vials he had out sent especially from his family glassworks in India: exotic, unusually shaped and coloured bottles that made his concoctions look equally exotic and wondrous to the eye. Obviously some of the more staid British citizens refused to purchase those brews and insisted on good old fashioned British medicines, never realising the two types of vials were filled from the same cauldron. He advertised for a shop assistant and was very surprised when a Muggle girl called Mandy proved to be the most adept at dealing with both wizarding and Muggle customers.

It took a couple of years to get the run-down business back on its feet, pulling in business from the surrounding counties. His reputation as a skilled brewer and reliable stockist of fresh and well prepared potions ingredients took time to build. Once he was established, he felt he could take some time to begin his experiments in improving his de-aging potions and making them safer for consumption by the beauty trade, which was starting to become big business now that the War was beginning to fade into memory.

He was quietly inventorying his stock with an eye to replenishment when a blond bombshell landed on his doorstep and blew his bucolic existence all away to hell!

oo0oo