Chapter 8 Potion Brewing and Careful Treading
Wednesday, August 30 1985, Early morning, 16 Hyde Park Square, London
Cloudy swirls of multicoloured steam filled the room; amber, crimson and jade vapours rising from their large bubbling cauldrons. One of these, the nearest to the window, from where it was catching the faint dawn rays of the early morning, suddenly started emitting bright gold sparks, the legs of the magical container wobbling under the pressure.
Ever alert, the attention of one Caspian Peverell rose to contemplate the origin of the disturbance, all the while continuing his counter-clockwise stirs in the light pink concoction before him. At the sixth stir, he put the ash stirrer down, temporarily abandoning his post to rush to the agitated pewter cauldron, promptly throwing in the handful of red mistletoe berries that had been set out next to it.
The intensity of its brew's frothing dropped immediately, replaced by a gentle simmer, while the shade evolved slowly from blood red to cerulean.
Satisfied, Caspian returned to his previous position, the now more purple than pink glow of his Elixir shimmering slightly. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he proceeded to the remaining four potion preparations set out on his ceramic tables,sometimes slightly adjusting the intensity of flames, sometimes adding some ingredient or other.
Severus would be proud.
Caspian snorted. As if. His mentor would have contemplated the scene with a stern glare and grumbled something about competent potioneers being capable of surveying twice as many cauldrons at once, before criticizing the precision of every last one of Caspian's movements.
A small sigh sounded in the cool air.
He knew he probably had not done half as well as either Severus or Lysander would have, but he was no Potions' Master, and in their current absence, it would simply have to make do.
After all, the first was currently only interested in him as the anomaly that had triggered his spies' senses during their brief encounter in the apothecary's two weeks ago. Lysander for his part, did not yet exist in this timeline, and even provided the current Draco Malfoy someday became him, he was presently only just a quarter of the age he needed to be to even consider a Potions' apprenticeship.
No he'd have to make do with his own work.
Whatever its quality, he knew it was at least as good, if not oftentimes better than anything he'd get in commerce without resorting to exorbitant prices.
Brewing, moreover, though admittedly one of his later joys in life, was restful to him in the anxiety and agitation currently clouding his existence. There was something soothing about it somehow, which particularly appealed to Caspian at the moment, despite the time-consuming and sleep depriving nature of the activity.
It was a stressful thing it turned out to make yourself solely responsible for the reformation of an entire timeline. He knew that to make a true impact, as well as one that would have a lasting effect, he needed to plan all of his actions carefully and patiently for roughly the next fifteen years.
For a brief period of time he had actually managed to delude himself into thinking it would be much easier to rush in recklessly and destroy the Horcruxes all in one go, before tracking down Voldemort's wraith form. But then he'd remember it was more complicated than that. However much he wanted to rush in like the Gryffindor he was at heart, he couldn't. He had an opportunity to do good here, as long as he took careful consideration and planning. There was so much at stake not to. He was responsible for Hadrian now, as well as his mission. More than just Hadrian, the whole wizarding world deserved better. It would not do to just sweep Voldemort under the rug and let the state of things remain the same, someone could easily take his place.
There were Death Eaters roaming free that had to be brought to justice. There was the corruption and prejudice that riddled the wizarding world that someone had to deal with. All that would take time and patience, but it had to be done.
The hard truth was that if he was going to manage anything worthwhile he needed to tread carefully. Lay foundations, build influence, gain experience, prepare Hadrian…
Brewing made all of that disappear. He did not forget any of it, not really, but the occupation demanded enough of his concentration to place everything else on a more distant plane of his mind. If he managed to stock his potions' cabinet in the meantime, so much the better.
In truth, Caspian was rather disappointed in himself for having waited this long to see to it. Even had he not been planning several years' worth of steady tracking, retrieving and destroying some of the darkest objects in the History of wizardkind, as well as fighting countless practitioners of dark magic, no self-respecting Defense Master could avoid having such a store at his disposal. Especially one in the employ of a renown cursebreaker. The fact that he was capable of brewing most(if not all) of them himself where others might have had to rely on owl-orders made his tardiness in the matter even less excusable.
Another reason for personal preference in his own work was the nature of some of the potions he needed . None, strictly speaking , could be qualified as dark, but more than one possessed rare ingredients, or was reputed as complicated to prepare. This, as with anything else of rarity in the wizarding world, was regarded with gossipy speculation and prejudice.
Others, being used as means to deal with Dark magic, were justifiably light, but required a deep understanding of the Dark arts to make and use properly and could just as easily bring suspicion on him.
Such an understanding would be true of any Defense Master, Caspian argued to himself, grumbling, but he knew he had to be careful. He was an unknown so far, and quite the mystery. That made him an object of interest as soon as he caught someone's eye, as well as a very vulnerable prey to speculation and gossip. He could not afford someone of Rita Skeeter 's ilk catching on to anything about him that could be portrayed in a negative light. He knew only too well how vicious public opinion was when it turned on you, and he could not afford it. Too much was at stake.
Already, some of the big fish in the figurative pond were swimming a little too close for comfort. Snape was already tailing him every opportunity he got nowadays, and though it would inevitably lessen now that Hogwarts was opening up for the year, he did not lure himself into believing Snape's curiosity had abated.
Snape involving himself in Caspian's affairs also implicated both Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy's respective involvement. That last made Caspian boil.
The Hadrian Potter that had been, in that distant life in the future, had lost so much to that man…Dumbledore might be too inquisitive for his own good, as well as a confirmed meddler, but his intentions and subsequent courses of action, if sometimes objectionable, were always rooted in good rather than evil. Lord Malfoy was another story altogether. Attracting his attention too soon could lead to a death sentence. Not to mention he could easily fish for information at the Ministry, which would result in bunglers like Fudge paying him close attention as well.
Another sigh sounded.
Yet another reason to seek introduction to another member of the Wizengamot's Assembly of Lords. Ideally he should do so before the next gathering of the Wizengammot, which following the tradition of occurring the first Saturday of the month, was set to take place on September second, in merely three days' time.
Damn it.
It would have to be a relatively influent individual if he hoped to stand his own against Malfoy's power within the Ministry, but not a controlling one either. Someone Caspian could trust.
That, straight away, excluded all of Fudge's goons. He would prefer, also, to limit the exposure to confirmed supporters of Dumbledore, for various reasons.
His deep respect and even love for his former Headmaster, whom he had looked up to as a grandfather for most of his youth, did not prevent his wariness in front of some of his actions and their consequences. Hadrian Potter had forgiven his mentor in the future, and Caspian was sure their fight in this present would equally become a common one, but he would rather keep his own allegiance for the time being.
The solution, of course, was obvious, but the means of achieving it less so. Avoiding alliance with either the Minister or the Headmaster suggested tying himself to the middle ground, which meant Amelia Bones. He knew enough of the witch to affirm that her loyalty was to Wizarding Britain first, the Ministry second and Fudge last, which in itself was promising.
He knew her to respect and heed Dumbledore's opinion, as would most who were not fools, but she did not simper at his heal like a lost puppy , as Fudge had done until the end of his fourth year. Moreover, her serious, fair, hard-working and efficient nature, as well as her sharp intelligence and incorruptibility were all widely known . Other than that, his knowledge failed.
Susan Bones' aunt had unfortunately died too soon in the original timeline for him to know her personally, or to determine who her contacts were.
His limited dealings with the Assembly of Lords from the few short months as Lord Potter before his self-imposed disappearance let him suppose his best chance lay with the more neutral parties. Of these, the more affluent and the more likely to stand independent from Fudge were probably the Macmillan, McDougal, Greengrass and Ackerley lords.
The Macmillans were firm believers in justice, but too pompous for Caspian's liking, and very conservative, despite a firm belief in equal rights. Ackerly he knew little of, but suspected a too great dependence on Dumbledore for his own comfort. That left McDougal and Greengrass. The Mcdougals were barely known to him. Cyrus Greengrass, on the other hand, was renown throughout the wizarding community, and he had come to know of Severus' fierce pride in his Daphne as one of his students. Despite their stereotypical Slytherin heritage, mixed in with occasional Ravenclaws every generation or so, Caspian knew that when it came down to it, they would not adhere to Voldemort's propaganda. The family had all been killed during the Dark Side's year of power in the time of his Horcrux trek with Ron and Hermione, with the exception of the two girls who had both died in the final battle. Their deaths had been consequences of their refusal to join the Death Eater ranks. They were definitely a family that could hold their own to Fudge or Malfoy.
He smiled a grim smile. Politics. They complicated everything. But they were also a non-avoidable hurdle in his plans.
He chuckled bitterly as he started ladling translucent blue Dreamless sleep into a carefully unbreakable warded potion bottle. As if he did not have enough to do already. Between his cautious planning for the Horcrux hunt, establishing himself in the wizarding world; his apprenticeship and Hadrian, he had his hands full.
The next warded bottle made its way into his hands, ruby red glutinous liquid pouring slowly into its depths. Progressing to the third cauldron, the pewter one this time, wherein lay the cerulean tinted Calming Draught Caspian had been stirring earlier, a slight scuffling caught his attention.
Ladle still in hand, Caspian smiled widely at the sight of his sleepy-eyed nephew. His hair was even messier than was usual, and the rumbled green pyjamas they had bought ten days ago in Diagon alley indicated he had just gotten out of bed.
Caspian was overjoyed to see him, as always, but was especially heartened by the very transparent wonder with which the little boy was following his guardian's actions.
"Can I watch?" he asked in a breathy whisper, as if scarcely daring to hope his wish would be granted.
Caspian's smile only spread wider. "Of course. I'd be thrilled for a bit of company, just be careful when you move around. I've warded all the glass, and the cauldrons are off the fire, but some of the potions have to be handled carefully."
Hadrian nodded eagerly, then proceeded to ask a hundred questions about each potion. Caspian was highly amused. This might slow him down slightly, but the enthusiasm on the boy's face was completely worth it.
"What's that one?" came the exited voice, Hadrian's finger pointing to the last cauldron, one made of stainless steel, from where a very watery brew sparkled silver . Its dazzling light reflected in Hadrian's eyes, creating stars in his eyes.
" What's it do? What's in it? Why does it sparkle? Can I make it?"
The flurry of questions came out, Hadrian's curiosity finally starting to win out over the shy reserve the Dursleys had drilled into him.
Caspian chuckled warmly, conjuring up a stool before the ceramic workstation and inviting Hadrian to pull himself on top of it. "Come here and I'll show you. It's pretty obvious you won't be satisfied with any short answers."
Hadrian looked slightly sheepish at that remark, before catching the evident humour in Caspian's expression and relaxing. He struggled to climb into the seat for a second, his feet hanging high off the ground when he finally managed it, but he did not let that bother him. Head comfortably resting in the folded arms he'd laid out on the table, Hadrian Potter's complete attention was for Caspian,
who was pointing to the steel cauldron.
"That's a type of anti-venom I've perfected myself. Its derived from the Classic Antidote for common poisons, but is more potent. It's also suited to counter some of the more lethal poisons out there, particularly various snake venoms."
"What about a 'bozor' though? You said they saved from most poisons?"
"You mean Bezoars?"
Hadrian nodded. "Those shrivly stones you said came from goat tummies."
Caspian nodded, a wave a pride washing over him at Hadrian remembering that detail.
"Very good. And quite right too. Indeed, bezoars are a strong agent against poisoning, which is why they're more often than not a base ingredient in antidotes, including this one" His head jerked to the silvery liquid. "They're generally not a permanent cure on their own though, and for some toxins, do little more than stabilize the progression of their effect."
Hadrian nodded. "So if you have a bezoar at hand, it's best to eat it, in the hope that it'll slow the poison long enough for you to find a better cure?"
Caspian beamed. "Exactly."
Hadrian grinned at the approval in his uncle's voice, while the latter continued.
"As for the coulour you asked about, most antidotes try to reach as clear and transparent a consistence as possible. Phoenix tears, which incidentally are the most potent natural antidote known to wizards, are completely transparent, even clearer than water. This silvery shimmer is a close enough substitute, and I'm hoping it'll be even better with a small contribution from Regina."
"Regina?" Hadrian looked puzzled. He loved his uncle's snake and found her really intelligent (though it had startled him at first that he could understand her) but he didn't see what she could have to do with a potion.
"She's a kingsnake, Harry", started Caspian, catching his look of bewilderment, " They're reputed for their immunity to most snake venoms, due to their preying on many of them. Magical kingsnake saliva is also said to have healing and soothing properties to it, though much less powerful than that of phoenix tears."
The next half-hour was spent in a thorough exposé of each of the other potions Caspian had just finished bottling, from the utility of Vitalitas Elixir, to the difficult brewing of Blood Replenisher. When they got to the Calming Draught, Hadrian recognized the brew, having taken some quite a few times. When he proceeded to faultlessly detail each of its properties and effects without a single hint from Caspian, the latter revealed something which made his heart pound with glee.
"Your mum would be proud of you for knowing all that, you know. She was an excellent potioneer herself, only second to her talent in Charms."
Hadrian nearly fell off the top of his stool in his mirth.
"Mum was good in Potions?" He could scarcely believe it.
Caspian smiled. "Yes she was. One of her best friends from her childhood was really talented in the subject and I know they competed every year to better each other in class. They'd experiment to see if they could improve the original brews, and I know those experiments paid off more often than not." He'd gotten that titbit out of Snape a few months into his defense training, while on the run with Lysander.
"That's wicked." Hadrian said in awe.
Caspian chuckled again.
"It certainly was. But that's your mum for you. Always experimenting and innovating. Many were convinced she'd complete her Charms mastery by her twenty-third birthday before she had you."
"Charms? Why not Potions?"
"Oh, your mum was brilliant at Potions, but she was unsurpassed in Charms. Though admittedly Potions would have been her second choice for a Mastery. I wouldn't have been surprised if the Unspeakables came knocking at her door, she would have been a priceless addition to their research team."
"Unspeakables?"
"Semi-independent ministry workers belonging to Department of Mysteries. I suppose you could equate it to the secret service, though not nearly as militarized. No one really knows what they get up to, and their contracts are tied down by some of the most powerful oaths magic can weave."
Caspian let Hadrian ponder this as he turned to the last potion, the Dreamless sleep. "Fights away nightmares," Caspian explained, "but has the major drawback of being addictive, which is why it's often diluted, or slipped in food in small doses. I know St. Mungo's also uses it in combination with a numbing charm as a form of general anesthetic…"
He stopped at the sight of Hadrian's fixed gaze. He was looking at the last potion with a strange look Caspian didn' like. One of both uncertainty and longing.
"What is it Harry?" enquired Caspian, frowning.
"That…that potion..," he started hesitantly, "It stops bad dreams?"
Caspian cringed. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. For the first time that morning he studied the little boy carefully. His face was slightly pale, and his eyes a bit puffy. It wasn't overt but it was there. He mentally cursed not paying more attention to his nephew's haggard appearance when he came in.
He looked at his watch.
Six fifty seven A.M.
Too early for him to be up, especially considering they'd been chatting for a while. His frown deepened. "Harry?" he asked tentatively, yet in a tone that required a response, "why'd you get up so early? Couldn't you sleep?"
His voice was calm and far from accusatory, yet Hadrian seemed to cringe slightly, and he didn't answer.
Caspian's frown of concern deepened.
"You're having nightmares again aren't you?"
Hadrian's eyes met his, and the anxious look he found there was answer enough.
Caspian let out a deep sigh. "You should have said that straight away, Harry."
Hadrian's stance stayed mostly the same, but a grain of defiance appeared. "I didn' wan' 'o worry you. What's it matter if I can't sleep?" A small smile graced his face. "It's more interestin' being here anyways." He looked around as he said this, once more taking in the assorted jars, cauldrons and potions that filled the room. Not everything was cleaned up in its proper place, as Caspian had only just finished fixing up his basement into a satisfactory lab, so there was something fascinating to look at whichever way he turned. Piled cauldrons of gold, steel, pewter and bronze, countless instruments, vast collections of ingredients Caspian had either ordered or hunted down himself.
Caspian shook his head gently, reaching over to the small child and pulling him into a hug. "I'm your guardian Harry, I'm supposed to worry about you. As for you sleeping, it is definately important, even if I do like telling you about potions."
"That's what Rege said", admitted the child half-heartedly.
Caspian gave a wan smile. "She's one smart snake isn't she?" he shook his head and then turned back to Hadrian, squeezing his shoulder firmly, and threading his fingers through his messy hair.
"Which one this time, Harry?" he enquired softly.
"Voldemort." Was the simple answer. "Green light and his laugh." His eyes searched and found his uncle's. "I never know what it is, but that's always what wakes me up. It's horrible." His voice was steady but he was shivering slightly.
Caspian didn't blame him, he still remembered that dream.
"I don't doubt it. That green light is from one of the most foul magics ever known and if you ever see it coming at you, I want you to duck right away. Preferably behind a physical barrier." The innocent green orbs met the wizened silvery emerald and the boy nodded.
"That isn't a dream is it?" he asked suddenly. "It's a memory, right? From the night my parents died ."
There was no question there, it was a statement. Caspian nearly swore out loud. Damn kid, it was impossible to get one over him, he caught on everything. He should know, he'd always been good a piecing things together himself; it was instinct.
He considered his answer. He couldn't lie, Harry would see through it. He didn't want to tell the truth either though.
He wished he could protect Hadrian indefinitely from the harsh cruelty of the world that he was too young to deal with. But he couldn't. He had been in Hadrian's place; literally. Treating him like glass would only make it more probable for him to shatter.
Caspian did not want Hadrian's innocence to lead him to his death as it had nearly done so many times for him.
"Yes."
"And the green light? That's what killed them?"
Caspian smiled grimly. This kid was too smart for his own good.
"Yes." He said simply, but did not elaborate. Hadrian nodded again, understanding he wouldn't get more out of his uncle on this particular subject.
A long pause followed, heavy with the weight of what had just been discussed.
Hadrian thought back to his nightmare once more and shivered violently. That dream, more than any other, had always terrified him; waking him in the middle of the night in sweat, trembling and unable to get a wink more of sleep. Now, he knew it was not just a dream, it was real. The little boy felt sick.
It wasn't fair. Why did the only memory of his parents have to be so horrifying? Delayed anger rose in the pit of his stomach. Nothing. He had nothing left of them but the flash of light that brought their deaths and the maniacal laugh of their murderer. How was it justified that he could not retain one recollection of his happiness with his parents, but that he could remember year after year of misery at the Dursleys? He frowned suddenly and turned to look at Caspian, as if just remembering something.
"Uncle Caz?"
"Yes?"
"When Voldemort killed mum and dad, why'd I go to the Dursleys? You told me when you came to Privet Drive that you couldn' get me 'cause you were out of the country and didn' know about me, but what about others? You said Aun' Petunia was that horrible to me because she doesn' understand and fears magic."
As well as being jealous of it, yes, thought Caspian inwardly.
"If she did, and Uncle Vernon isn' much better (here Caspian snorted)then why send me there in the first place?" His voice wavered slightly. "Did no one wan' me?"
Caspian squeezed his nephew's arm firmly in reassurance, before lifting his chin to meet his gaze once more. "As far as anyone knew child, that sad excuse of an aunt of yours and her family were your only living blood relatives left. Mr. and Mrs. Evans, I have little doubt, would gladly have raised you, but they were killed in a car accident a few months before your birth. I'd imagine that is where Petunia took her inspiration for that ridiculous story about your parents supposed accident."
"And dad's parents?"
"Charlus and Dorea Potter doted on their son, because he was their only child, and as their first grandchild you would probably have had the same treatment. But as far as I know they both were killed during Voldemort's first rise to power, towards the end of your parents' sixth year. I know it hit James particularly hard."
"As for the Peverells, we had practically erased ourselves from existence. I myself was not aware of having any living relations until about roughly six or seven years ago, which coincides with your parents' wedding. As everything was so secretive, and precise records hidden or destroyed, it was difficult to determine much, but eventually I was able to deduce that a certain James Henry Potter was a relatively close cousin of mine. When I met and got to know your parents, they were only just married, and even if by the time I left Lily might already have been pregnant with you, they were not aware of it yet so I was not aware of your existence until much later."
Hadrian nodded. Caspian had mentioned something to this effect in passing already.
"But you said Mum and Aun' Petunia never got on with each other. So why'd they send me to her? If I didn't have any direct family to take me in, surely there was someone else?"
Caspian's brow grew dark. "You're right of course. I would be very much surprised if Lily had even considered trusting you to Petunia. Lily was not a spiteful person generally (though she could hold a mean grudge) but she had long stopped deluding herself of her sister's feelings towards her. I think it broke her slightly that, to tell you the truth; the fact she did not feel she could trust her own sister with you. I understood they were once quite close once, before Lily found out she was a witch. Still, the reason you were left with them was that no one else could take you."
"No one?" Harry cried out furiously.
Caspian shook his head sadly. "Out of the closest of Lily's friends after Hogwarts, Marlene McKinnon had been killed in a raid, and Alice Longbottom, who I believe was your godmother, as well as her husband Frank were attacked viciously around the same time as your parents, so that neither were in condition to take care of you."
Or their own son unfortunately. Poor Neville.
"That was already two options down. Your godfather meanwhile, who incidentally was one of your father's closest friends from school, was the first on the scene at your parents' home in Godric's Hollow, and I very much believe it was him who found you and freed you from the wreckage. From what I've pieced together, he was met by someone sent from the Order of the Phoenix, who convinced him that you would be safer in their care."
"Order of the what?"
"Phoenix. They were the organization your parents and all their close friends fought with during the war."
"If all my parents' friends were part of the Order, why didn't they let him take me? And why'd he give me up? Didn' he wan' me?"
Caspian hesitated slightly before answering. He did not want to get into the whole of that mess tonight, or have Hadrian feeling badly about his godfather.
"I didn't know your godfather Hadrian, but I know enough of him and his friendship with James to know he would never abandon you. Not consciously or willingly. He was a Gryffindor through and through and he stood by his friends. James saw him as his brother, and I have no doubt it was the same for him." Caspian assured.
"Then why?"
"I'm not sure. But if I had to guess I'd say guilt, as stupid as that is."
"Guilt?"
"He was your parents' closest friend, he naturally felt ready to lay his life for them. Knowing them dead because they had been duped by a traitor no one suspected must have been a blow. Of course he would feel responsible. His friends dead, and his godson orphaned, what could he do now. He's already convinced he's let down the three of you, he's at a loss what to do. Then the Order tell him they've got a plan to keep you safe as he's already blaming himself, he trust that they'll do more good by you than he possibly can. And so secure in the knowledge you're in the best hands possible, he now has the opportunity to act, to do something, anything, that might appease his despair. The logical conclusion is revenge. Voldemort gone, he sets off to track the traitor."
Hadrian frowned. "So what happened? Why didn' he come back?"
Caspian sighed. "His recklessness caught up with him. I don't think he thought it all through. His world had been completely turned upside down in the space of an evening, and he wasn't in any condition to force himself to think rationally." Caspian shook his head at the memory of his Godfather. Sirius had always needed to do something. He was not one for patience, or for standing idly by as those he loved were hurt. "He wanted revenge, and believing you safe, he set out to do the only thing he felt he could. " Caspian sighed grimly. "Turns out that decision cost him everything." The frustration he felt at being unable-even if temporarily- to clear Sirius' name came back in a rush. He knew very well that Percy Weasley had been the first Weasley to keep 'Scabbers' the rat as a pet, and that he had not done so until his first year at Hogwarts when the boy had found him in the back yard. But in this timeline, that would not happen for another couple of years or so, and Caspian could do nothing in the meantime.
Without Scabbers as evidence of Pettigrew's faked death, let alone the traitor's confession, he could not risk pushing for a trial. He did not yet have enough weight with anyone at the Ministry or the Wizengmmot to guarantee an outcome in his Godfather's favour.
Hadrian gulped down sadly.
"Anyone else?" He sounded slightly dejected, as if unsure he truly wanted the answer.
Caspian hesitated for a second and nodded.
"Yes. There was another friend of your parents from Hogwarts. He became friends with your father and godfather in school, and he and your Mother were prefects together for Gryffindor from their fifth year onwards. I'd imagine he was something of an honorary uncle to you."
"If they were so close, why didn't he take me?"
"He couldn't. He fell victim to a vicious curse when he was small, the dangerous nature of which left him an easy prey to the worst of wizarding prejudice. Your parents never let it keep them from befriending him of course, but public opinion if rumour of his condition spread would not have been as kind. Such a guardianship would have caused a scandal and the Ministry, bigoted, close-minded idiots that they are, would never have allowed it, and he was too honest a man to keep it out of his application as caregiver."
Hadrian was outraged. "That's completely unfair! If he wan'ed me, itt already makes him better than the Dursleys could ever be."
Caspian squeezed the boy's shoulder in comfort. "I agree. But I have to tell you Harry, though I'm certain he would have wanted you, I'm not entirely sure if he would have taken you in even had they allowed it."
At this, Hadrian jumped up, interrupting his uncle, hurt at the implication.
"Why not?"
A sympathetic smile answered him.
"He's been badly influenced by the prejudice of society; he probably would have convinced himself you were better without him, that he was protecting you, or acted out of some ridiculous belief that you would agree with the opinion of the masses."
Hadrian frowned. "That's stupid."
Caspian smiled. "Maybe. But he'd just lost all the people that had stood by him in his entire life, and been betrayed by another. He never was one to hope against all odds."
Harry hesitated for a minute. This was all a bit complicated for him, but he thought he understood. Would he not feel the same if something happened to Caspian? His new guardian was all that separated him from the Dursleys, and nothing scared him more than losing him. This honorary uncle of his had had all the luck in finding finding great friends that stood by him and they'd been taken away. So was it not too much to hope that he'd have that much luck again?
"Still stupid I think." He concluded categorically, "but I think I get it. I'm happy he had them then anyway, even if he doesn't anymore." He turned to face Caspian.
"Do you think I could meet him, and tell him I don't care? If you know where he is, that is. Then maybe he could tell me more about my parents."
Caspian chuckled. "He certainly could. The stories I've pieced together of your father and his two friends [Pettigrew was conveniently forgotten]! Quite the little group of mischief makers. James had fun recounting quite a few of their escapades to me while your mother rolled her eyes. But I'm sure such a close friend of theirs could tell you much better than I could. Not to mention much more."
Hadrian grinned. He loved hearing things about his parents, and the things they got up to when they were younger sounded particularly interesting.
"So you think I can meet him then?"
It was Caspian's turn to chuckle, both at Hadrian's ever-bubbling enthusiasm, and the irony of his question.
"I think we'll meet him sooner than you'd expect."
The small boy did not know just how close he was to getting his prized stories. Truth be told, Caspian was looking forward to these tales as well. He might have collected a few stories of from Severus about Lily during his apprenticeship, as well as various snippets from McGonagall and other Order members after the war, but this was an opportunity for him as well.
