Long, thin fingers stretched along the surface of a dark leather journal, the pads of each gloved finger gliding along its glossed material. One finger paused for a moment longer than the rest and outlined an engraved "M" before moving. Near the opposite armrest the other set of gloved fingers lightly held a roll of parchment, the crinkling material echoing the sounds of the rustling fireplace burning in front of the seated man.

The pureblood scion's mind churned around deep red eyes with slit pupils and the whispering hiss of the owner's sibilant magical language. His lord often hinted and suggested at having attained immortality, but was it true? It would be less than vigilant to allot too much trust in speculation – however logical and tempting in the case of soothing his fears.

Nearly a decade has passed already and still his lord remains a 'vanquished' Dark Lord. Surely if his lord were immortal he would not stand to be so ridiculed and believed to have been slain by a mere toddler?

Aster Potter…

He remembered meeting the boy a few years ago, that bubble of energy and laughter. The clear lack of decorum in the child saddened him. Yet another pureblood line would descend into traitorous barbarity. Yet, only a week ago he saw a very different child. The same excited energy caught his attention when the boy practically squealed outside the Quidditch store in Diagon Alley, except when he addressed the boy. Then, there was a deliberate pause before the Potter child turned and returned his greeting with careful manners. The sight distinctly reminded him of his own son, the little dragon always putting on a show in front of him and acting quite the spoiled brat with his mother. In time his dragon would learn the purpose and meaning behind the proper mannerisms of a pureblood heir, but until then he would settle for hearing what he wanted to hear.

It slightly interested him, then, that the Potter child acted in such a similar way. Obviously booting the mudblood out of the family did some good, though it was surprising that James Potter out of all purebloods seemed to decide to teach his child the proper ways. No matter, Potter and his heir were hardly worth his time. It was the mudblood and her supposed bastard child that seized his attention.

The Daily Prophet flooded the streets when the Boy-Who-Lived's perfect family shattered in front of dozens of people at the Ministry last year. He wished he had witnessed the events himself, though he had not and so all information would be faulty secondhand reports. As with nearly any significant event, every article only contained a portion of the story. Even after reading dozens of articles few could attempt at rewriting the event as it actually happened. One detail was readily apparent, if any, and that was that somehow the Boy-Who-Lived had a twin and no one, not even James or Dumbledore, cared to admit he existed.

The entirety of tabloids, magazines, and newspapers on the other hand loved shouting to the whole magical community that the twin existed. Evans and her boy vanished from the public's eye, so attention eventually turned to Snape and Black. With Severus' safeguards no reporter could touch him or his mutt, but that didn't stop them from speculating each and every possible scenario that brought the twin into being. Fabrications from the most logical to the most nonsensical minds were printed daily, sometimes even hourly on a particularly imaginative day.

He outright laughed the day the Prophet released the adulterous accusations against Evans and Snape with some vague references at Muggle 'scientific research' and fertirr- no, fraternal twins. Severus' inclinations in regards to relationships were no secret to him and the thought of the potions master just holding Evans' hand for too long was cause for laughter.

The bastard child, Harry, was definitely Evans' child; few people possessed that vibrant shade of green in their eyes. The black hair, however… What would cause James to deny his own son? As a pureblood and an uptight Gryffindor the man surely valued family. The child could not be Severus'. Did Black…? The mutt's relationship with Severus aside, the man was known as a philanderer in his school days. Was Evans another conquest? A hidden tryst?

The blasted flea-bitten mongrel failed to inform him that Evans and her bastard child were indeed staying at Spinner's End and he was thus unable to prepare for meeting the child when he went to call on the mutt the other day. That one red eye, its slit pupil and piercing gaze brought too many memories to the forefront of his mind. The child's lithe, inquisitive nature and commanding presence – the mutt followed the bastard child's every twitch if not every concern – appeared too parallel to be simple coincidence.

His fingers clenched the roll of parchment, threatening to tear the material. He needed to know more before he was sure.

"Is this truly all you could discover?" the lazy drawl was released with light tones stark against a glinting molten gaze.

The wrinkled creature preyed by those eyes instantly shriveled into a bundle of fidgeting limbs at his feet and gasped and sobbed. "Yes, Master sir, I'm sorry Master sir, I tried, Master sir…"

"Enough."

With a squeak the elf vanished from the room, leaving the man alone to stare into the fireplace. On the side table nearby were newspapers and magazines, each one displaying a pair of dark haired boys. The Quibbler, with the painted portrait of a red and green gaze, stood out on top, the motionless eyes capturing more attention than any of the animated grayscale photos around them.

There was an invitation to a birthday celebration also resting on the table, one that he knew Severus and the mutt had not received. The words, 'Hogwarts castle, July 31st' were scrawled along the bottom of the invitation with instructions for how to RSVP.

"Potter… what are you hiding?"

-Emotionally Volatile-

Quick 'click's and scrapes accompanied ivory clashing with ebony though I knew the battle was already lost. My soft sigh was met with a light chuckle and my uncle called out, "Checkmate" as my knight perished beneath his queen.

"Aw, Uncle Remus aren't you supposed to let me win?"

Uncle Remus just laughed again. "I think you've beaten James enough times that you don't need me to make you feel better."

An indignant shout rang from the kitchen and we both laughed seeing James pouting in our direction as he attempted to wash the dishes.

"Yeah, he's no good at chess." Another indignant noise.

"And apparently no good at washing dishes, either." Uncle Remus waved his wand, putting away the chess pieces and moved to get up.

With another sigh and a smile I stopped him and got up first. "I've got it."

Over in the kitchen James managed to turn the sink into a mountain of suds. Obviously he put in too much soap and the water was on much too high. Trust Mother to use a Muggle sink, and James was never good at household charms either. I stepped up onto my snitch-covered stepstool and turned the water off. Barely turning my face I stared at James.

His usual chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh… so that's how it works? I'll remember that."

"If I didn't know any better, James," Remus said, giving James an excuse to look away from my stare, "I'd think Aster was the one raising you."

Moving over in front of my uncle, I strained to look up at him. Would I get taller, already? "Uncle, what are we doing today? Can I go to Diagon Alley? I'm almost ten now!"

"Oh no you don't-!" James came around and picked me up, ruffling my hair. "I'm showing you around today, kiddo, remember?"

Energy rushed through my body as I remembered what was planned today. My excitement must have shown on my face as James and Uncle Remus both started to laugh. Wriggling my limbs I scrambled out of James' arms and rushed towards my room. "When are we leaving? Am I allowed to take notes? No, carrying a quill and inkpot wouldn't be fun… do I still have one of Mother's pens?"

-Emotionally Volatile-

I stared around in awe and absently wondered if my neck would be sore in the morning from turning to look everywhere so quickly. "This is so cool!" Caught between rushed excitement and the knowledge that running around was dangerous, I contained myself to shuffling from place to place and directed my energy to pointing and waving my arms.

Beams of light shot through the air to my left towards moving targets, to my right were Auror trainees familiarizing themselves with poisonous herbs and fungi, and up ahead were trainees sparring with each other. There was one place in particular where there were trainees just running around. Curious, I hurried over.

James chuckled behind me, "Careful, kiddo, I'm not exactly supposed to let you get too close."

"But you promised to let me see where you work if I passed Dumbledore's test yesterday." Ignoring James insisting I call the old man 'headmaster' I observed the sparring area. My green-gold eyes flicked left and right while I tried to follow what was going on. A few trainees were standing in the center of what looked like an office, dummies placed around the perimeter. At random intervals a beam of light shot out from a dummy towards the trainees. They alternated between running, rolling, and even throwing items in the way. "Why aren't they using their wands?"

The older man huffed above me, but he dropped the 'headmaster' issue and explained the drill. "This is meant to mimic what could happen if an Auror loses their wand in the middle of an assignment. They still have to catch the bad guy, or at least survive until either someone helps them out or they find their wand." It was cute how James 'dumbed down' his words whenever he spoke to me. He really didn't have to go that far, though. I wasn't that much of a kid.

There was a soft chime in the air and the trainees in the mock-office started smiling and laughing, stretching and massaging themselves. Figuring out the round was over I jumped in and turned to James. "Can I try? Please? Just once?"

Before James could answer I heard another chime in the air and a light flew my way. Remembering there was a chair nearby me I shot underneath it, quickly taking a more thorough look at the pretend office and the position of the dummies.

The trainees scrambled to surround me and I moved away immediately. Herding me would only trap me and limit my movement. I could see the trainees' frantic movements, their worried glances shooting toward me every other moment. Opposite their reaction energy filled me. There must have been a smile on my face since James stopped frowning and chuckled, sending a wink my way.

This was a game, and I was going to win.

Moving constantly, I noticed the trainees were struggling to maintain a shield around me while avoiding the lights themselves. One light hit a trainee and a short hiss escaped his lips. So these lights stung… Well it certainly helped educate if the lights provided a punishment for failing to escape them. Also, the trainee that got hit had to leave the area, a magical cloud spelling "disqualified" hovering above his head.

After a while I felt the pattern of the last three lights looked familiar. One light shot from a dummy, the next came from the dummy two to the left, the next three to the right. A pattern! Suddenly the light shot from the exact opposite dummy on the other side of the area. This time the next lights were four to the left, five to the right.

Turning around swiftly I barely managed to throw a book in front of me, the light splashing against the cover and catching my finger. That hurt! Apparently it didn't get count as a full hit, though, since no "disqualified" cloud hovered above me. The sting in my finger distracted me long enough for the next light, six to the left, to shoot my way. Resigned to getting hit from my lack of attention, I was stunned when one of the trainees threw herself in the way of the shot. The movement was so quick the light caught her in the chest.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Why did she do that?

She winced in reply, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine; I couldn't just let our savior get hit again, now could I?" With a laugh she continued, "You're James' kid, too and he's my training officer." With "disqualified" above her she moved to leave.

I could only nod when something bright reflected off something on the desk to my side. Remembering where I was, I grabbed a poster board from the desk and held it up in front of the incoming light, seven to the right.

The next three lights followed the pattern, jump straight across, eight to the left, then nine to the right. After the next jump, though, the second light was only two to the left. Was I wrong…? No, relax, wait… There! The third light was three to the right. It must have reset the pattern.

Facing the lady who got hit with the light for me, I asked, "Is there a way to turn them off?"

She blinked at me for a moment and said, "You have to hit the dummy's head right before it shoots the light at you. Officers say we're supposed to predict the enemy's next move."

That made things complicated; I was too short to reach the dummies' heads. "Got it," I turned away. I was ready to move when she called out to me.

"None of us have figured it out yet, though. The ones that do aren't allowed to tell anyone."

My reply was a smile. "Ok!"

The next light had already gone off. Running to the nearest trainee I yelled, "That one! Hit it now!" and pointed at the dummy four to the left.

The trainee flustered and tried to run forward to the dummy but it shot the light right when he moved to hit its head.

Shaking my head I moved to the next trainee and pointed out the next dummy, five to the right. This trainee moved instantly and hit the dummy. A 'ding' sounded and the dummy glowed green. All of the other trainees turned and stared.

"Next!" At my yell they turned to me. "Spread out! The next light is over there!" As if all in one movement the trainees fanned out in front of the dummies, an equal distance between each of them. For the next few minutes I pointed out the dummies to hit. Unfortunately, the fewer dummies that were left on the faster the lights came.

The dummies that were still on were far apart from each other and shooting rapidly. Fewer and fewer trainees were left in the area with me. I stood on one of the desks near the center to see everything more clearly and continued to call out which dummy was next.

When the second-to-last dummy went down, I stared straight at it and grinned. There was only one left. Wait…!

The last dummy was right behind me, and the only trainee left was on the other side of the area. I was not going to get hit! I turned and launched myself off the desk toward the dummy, glad that the desk gave me enough height to reach the dummy's head.

I failed to think farther than that, though, and collided face-first with the dummy's head. The dummy fell backward with me on top of it. A green glow filled my sight and I started to laugh. "I did it!"

Suddenly I was lifted into the air and a hand ruffled my hair. "That you did kiddo!" James exclaimed, laughing with me. "Good job!" He put me on my feet and turned toward the trainees who were with me in the area. "Now you all should learn from Aster here. What did he think of that none of you did?"

Some of the trainees glanced at each other, others muttered quietly. The lady who got shot for me spoke up, "Teamwork, sir."

That was not what I thought, but James seemed to accept the answer. "Explain, Johnson."

"In the previous round all of us were fighting for ourselves and we got in each other's way more often than the lights got us. With Aster's leadership we worked together and collectively beat the system."

James nodded. "…any other answers?"

More of the trainees started to speak up and I tuned them out. One of the Aurors was picking up the dummy I knocked down. "Um… I'm sorry, sir. I didn't break it, did I?"

The Auror chuckled. "It's alright, kid. It's got a bit of a crack on it, but it'll still do its job. See?" He righted the dummy and a long crack ran down the dummy's face. The crack started above its right eye and traveled straight down towards its mouth.

Sharp cold dowsed my insides and I felt heat gather behind my eyes. … The visage in front of me was no longer the face of a broken dummy. Instead, the glare of red and green eyes screamed disapproval at me. I shut my eyes closed, trying to erase the image from my mind until the heat settled down. The cold feeling lingered down my spine, though. Absently my mind reached for a connection I knew was too far for me to grasp. All in a single moment I felt horrible. What was I doing playing games with James?

I felt my eyebrow twitch uncomfortably at the mental rhyme.

Rubbing my eye with one hand, I tugged James' sleeve with the other. "I'm tired… can we go back now?"

James lightly chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Alright, kiddo, let's go home now."

After a few minutes of brushing off James' concerns I got back to my room. The first time I stepped back here when I was separated from Harry I hated this room. It reminded me of the childhood I cherished, the same childhood my brother missed out on. Everything had been in the same place as when I left it and still remained there. I never brought myself up to touching any of my previously beloved toys or trinkets. While the memories saddened me now there wasn't enough in me to get rid of anything either.

Now, back in this room I hated it again. Only this time my anger was directed inward as well.

Was it so easy for me to forget? Was I so weak to let myself fall back into this easy fun? I roughly shook my fingers in my hair and paced around my room. With a kick to one of my bedposts, I let the pain in my foot absorb some of my frustration. I was such a… such a little kid! Sure it's fun when James takes me flying, or when Uncle Remus plays chess with me, or when Dumbledore teaches me about magic (no wand-waving 'til I'm eleven), or when –ah, that's not the point! I can't let myself… I won't let myself be a little kid! There are too many things I need to do.

How could I forget? How could I forget about Harry? …again?

A strangled yell escaped my throat and with it a series of bangs as every piece of furniture in my room cracked or shattered. Further noise filled the air as toys and clothing fell around me. The strength in me vanished and I stumbled to my knees. I glared as a piece of wood hit my leg, taking the offensive debris and chucking it against the far wall. My vision blurred as tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Aster? Is everything alright in there?" James' voice did nothing but irritate me further.

"Leave me alone!"

I tensed as I heard my doorknob turning but Uncle Remus saved the day. "James, I'm sure he's fine. Let me take care of this. You've still got some work to finish."

Hurried whispering went on for a short while longer before footsteps signaled James' departure. I turned so my back was to the door and said nothing as Uncle Remus entered the room. Even after the small 'click' of the door closing, neither of us said a word. Finding another small piece of wood near me I fidgeted with it while I waited for Uncle Remus to say something. There was no way I was going to break the silence.

"Again, Aster?" I knew he would not be able to wait in silence for long. "I know it's been longer since the last time this happened –and it's certainly a good thing it's not once a week anymore– but you should talk to me when you feel this bad. Will you finally let me know what's wrong this time?"

Sniffling in reply I wiped my eyes and shook my head. My frame shook with unresolved tension. I wanted to scream and yell more. Everyday James acted like nothing happened… that nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It made remembering Harry, remembering his goal so much harder. I calmed slightly when I decided it was all James' fault.

Uncle Remus stood behind me in silence. I could practically hear his thoughts as he debated questioning me about it again. Like every time, though, he sighed and gave up. "Come on, kiddo, let's fix your room."

Standing up, I turned to see Uncle Remus with his wand out, handle towards me. I blinked. Twice. "Uncle Remus…?"

The man laughed and ruffled my hair with his free hand. "You're almost ten, right?" He winked and added, "I think with the headmaster teaching you theory it's okay to let you practice a little." When I stood there for a moment longer he took my hand and put the wand in it. "Here, why don't you give it a wave first so we can see if it likes you?"

The wood felt smooth in my hand, almost as if it was not wood but something else. Under my fingers I could feel the grain of the wood running along the wand. Hesitance discarded, I faced my destroyed room and twirled the wand a little.

Immediately a pile of wood made a popping noise. A small spark jumped in the air before a tendril of smoke rose out of the pile. I heard Uncle Remus move to get the wand from me, but I remembered a spell Dumbledore told me about and waved the wand again. "Aguamenti!"

The book said a stream of water was supposed to come out of the wand. What happened instead was my ceiling started to rain down on the entire room. This wasn't a drizzle, either, but a down-pouring rain.

Thinking back to Dumbledore's lessons again, I thought of the Drying Spell and tried it. A rough wind started to pick up, turning the rain into a mini hurricane.

At this point, Uncle Remus grabbed my hand. I was determined to fix my own mistakes, though, and in a flash a spell came to mind and I yelled "Finite!" To my relief the rain and wind stopped, leaving a wetter and crazier room than before.

Uncle Remus gently took the wand back and performed the Drying Spell correctly.

Undaunted by my spectacular failure, I turned and grabbed the taller man's sleeve. "Uncle… may I try one more time? Just one more spell? Please?"

-Emotionally Volatile-

Remus considered the younger boy tugging his sleeve. When Aster returned with Harry, the boy seemed emotionally volatile. He assumed that separating them would mellow him out and thus supported James' winning custody of Aster; however the opposite had been the case. The currently destroyed room around them only exemplified how Aster's emotions were far from settling down though months have passed since the twins were forced apart.

Thankfully, distracting the child's mind seemed to help keep his emotions at bay. When playing chess and during the headmaster's lessons about magic, Aster appeared happy, childlike, and overall himself again.

It was why Remus thought to allow Aster to try fixing the room on his own. While Remus' wand appeared testy in Aster's hands, the 'Finite' did work… Thinking about the boy's talents, he thought of a spell that would likely work better.

He handed Aster his wand again. "Okay." The bright smile on the child's face told Remus he made the right decision, but he still cut in. "We're going to try the 'Reparo' spell, okay Aster? Did the headmaster tell you about that one?" At Aster's nod he continued, "So like you've been taught, imagine what you're trying to fix is supposed to look like and then perform the spell."

Before Remus had the chance to suggest trying to fix the chair first, Aster pointed the wand at the room and yelled, "Reparo!"

Watching the spell unfold, he wished Aster had repaired a chair first. The werewolf's legs buckled, his arm shooting out to brace himself against a wall, and nearly forgot to breathe.