SOOOO THERES OTHER STUFF UP AS WELL WHICH IS A MIXTURE OF ANGST AND FLUFF? UH ITS ON MY PAGE IF YOU WANNA CHECKIE, REVIEW AND COMMENT REPLIES AT BOTTOM ALONG WITH TRANSLATIONS

Snape somehow surprised everyone by ordering the two elder Malfoys out of the room.

"It's a breach of confidentiality and the boys' privacy, Narcissa," He said curtly, cutting off a protest from the pale woman, " And I refuse to have you two hovering over my shoulder the entire time and shooting off comments. Now out." He shooed them out, shutting the door and turning back to the trio of boys. He gave them a piercing stare, switching between each of them as if he were trying to read their mind, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, wary due to their earlier conversation. The books behind him dug uncomfortably into his back.

He knew he was cornered.

"...Draco. Mr. Zabini. I have magical and life-binding oaths from both your parents- who insisted on each- that you have never been abused or neglected in any way save proper disciplining. The other families in Slytherin are being investigated as well, by trusted healers who know not to omit anything and to use persuasion when necessary. However, seeing as Harry's guardians cannot vouch in such restrictive ways, I am afraid we must go on examination alone. If you would please excuse yourselves for a time..."

"No!" Harry blurted, leaning forward before catching himself. "I-I mean, do they really have to leave? If it's a matter of my privacy, I have no problem with them being here." He added hurriedly, glancing over to the fellow snakes.

"Actually, it might be better if I leave." Draco slowly admitted, a guilty cast to his eyes, "I'd rather not make you uncomfortable Harry, and knowing mother, she may badger me into letting something loose." Harry made a noise of displeasure, and his hands clenched. But he understood what the other boy was worried about. From what he had seen of Narcissa Malfoy, the woman would hound someone to the ends of the earth if it meant getting her way. Not that such a attribute was negative all the time, but, well.

Harry watched the other boy stand and slowly trudge out of the room, no small amount of anxiety resting in his heart. Blaise stayed resolutely next to him, blank expression on his face and arm around his.

"Mama's too polite to say anything." He declared when Snape sent him a questioning glance, which got him a raised eyebrow in return- because when was Nicola Zabini polite unless she wanted something?- but simply shook his head and set down his satchel.

"How your mother is does not matter Mr. Zabini seeing as you are not family, and as such cannot stay in the room." He replied, opening the bag and taking out vials of various sizes. Harry stared dubiously at one that was a murky, brown colour. It was darker than mud on a stormy day.

"Everyone is related in the pureblood lines, sir, and it would be better for someone he is more familiar with to be there, to ensure he does not feel uncomfortable or boxed in." The boy argued back, a gleam entering his eyes and a lilt in his voice. "Would you rather he panic because he does not want you to do something? Or allow someone to be there that will calm him down?"

"Oh my God, Blaise, I can handle myself, you patronizing tomato ass." Harry hissed, unintentionally sending sparks up the other boy's arm, making him wince. But Blaise held steady, and his gaze didn't waver from Professor Snape's, who was scowling.

"..Over on the couch, Mr. Zabini. If you move or say anything untoward again, I will send you out and alert your mother to your behaviour." The man finally growled, clenching his wand. Blaise obliged easily enough, scooting away from Harry and hopping onto the couch. Snape waved his wand at the door, muttering something under his breath. Deep red flowed out of his wand and spanned the room, coating the walls and windows. Harry supposed he was putting up a ward, or something of that ilk. Blaise watched like a hawk as Snape waved his wand over Harry a few times, frowning in thought when nothing happened. Snape leaned down to Harry's height, glancing down to his lap where the book- oh shite - was resting before flicking his eyes back to Harry's, far too calm for how he had thought the man would react. The man swiftly cast a silent spell, and Harry felt a tingling come over him, followed by a strange sense of being covered in a layer of wax, almost. He shuddered in disgust at the feeling.

"My apologies for how it must feel, Harry. It is necessary to perform the preliminary spells." He said smoothly, waving his wand much slower now, repeating the movements he had done earlier. A piece of parchment appeared next to him, growing and growing as he grabbed and looked it over. As it slowed and reached the to his knees, the creases in his faces were deep, and his expression grim.

"Please take off any glamours you may have on, Harry." He spoke softly, fingers tracing some of the words that must have been traced onto the parchment. Harry sent a questioning peek at Blaise, who was stiff in his seat. The Italian gave him a shrug, as if to say nothing to do about it, and continued to watch the interaction. So Harry sighed and shivered a bit, slowly sliding off the ring that hadn't left his finger in 5 months. The skin underneath was paler, and he could immediately see the difference. There was no way he wouldn't.

The fake finger disappeared, and the tiny scars reappeared, and his famed curse scar that he had refused to glimpse at for years was back for all the world to see. He felt naked with all his pains from the years bared for the world to see, and shifted his eyes when Snape peered down at him.

The man slowly kneeled, still switching his eyes between and the parchment, all the while searching for things Harry did and didn't know. He murmured something when he saw the one crossing his lips, and growled when he took his damaged hand in his, turning it over and carefully observing the scars. The man muttered at this scar, and tsked at that discolouration. Soon, with slow movements, he reached into the satchel again, this time taking out small pieces of paper, surprising the boys.

"What-what's that for, Professor?" Harry asked cautiously, edging away slightly.

"To properly record visible injuries." The man replied shortly, waving his wand. Harry quickly pulled back, eyes wide.

"What? Why do you need to record them? They're just old injuries- accidents from stupid decisions!" The boy exclaimed, holding the earlier-grasped hand close to his chest. His eyes were shifty, and a flush crept up his face. "Just stupid accidents made by a stupid kid..."

"You are far from 'stupid', Mr. Potter, and I would like you to refrain from calling yourself such." Snape growled, gently tugging the young boy's hand away. Harry pulled it back and scooted backwards, confused as Snape let him. The dour man scowled and pulled on a piece of his hair, closing his eyes when Harry's bewildered stare didn't let up.

"I am not going to force you to let me examine you, Harry. I am not going to force you to show me anything, tell me anything, or even let me see anything. I only want to make sure what is written on this," He paused, holding up the roll of parchment, "is accurate. Or inaccurate, as magic is not all-powerful. Will you let me do so?"

Harry's mouth twisted, and he gave Blaise a desperate glance again, flickering his eyes between his friend and his teacher. But Blaise gave nothing away, no encouragement or discouragement. His expression his blank, his eyes barely creased in what might have been irritation or worry or sleepiness or watchfulness. Both wore calm expressions, giving nothing away and leaving him in the dark.

This was his choice, for once. His to decide, his to make.

With creaky movements, ever-so-slightly and mightily jerky, he held out his hand to Professor Snape, flinching when the Potions master took it in his own and probed around the scarred tissue. It didn't hurt, not anymore, but he still expected pain. Some kind of pain.

"Improperly healed, lucky you didn't catch an infection or gangrene." The man muttered darkly, his eyes narrowing. He waved his wand over the stump and then a piece of paper; Harry was startled when a near-photographic copy of the scar appeared on it. "I remember Smith getting into a frenzy over protection laws a few years back. Something about protecting our children from neglect and mutilation, and raising awareness to those in mundane families. I assume this is the cause?"

Harry slowly nodded his head, brows creasing. "He, um... he said he would do something. That they-" a quick glance to Blaise showed him squeezed-shut eyes- "were going to do something to help. But he showed up about a month afterward muttering about muggles and whumpers, or something. I couldn't really catch it." Snape tilted his head in thought, pursing his lips.

"Mugwump?" The man asked, setting the boy's hand down. He turned his attention to Harry's curse scar, prodding at it through the waxy film Harry felt.

"That might have been it. Really wasn't listening."

"If it was what he said, then this is far more a problem than we thought, Harry, and far more truthful than I thought Nicola was being." The man murmured, poking Harry's scar with the tip of his wand. Sparks flew out, and he hurriedly drew back. "There's no telling the amount of uproar this will cause."

"U-uproar? Sir, I don't want this to go, go bloody public! The last thing I've ever wanted is for my personal life to be splattered across the front pages as some political soapbox! It's bad enough that so many people know already!" The Potter yelped, "The last thing I need is that!"

"As much I despise saying this Harry, the public isn't blind." Blaise finally spoke up, voice quiet. "Many of our classmates have noticed the strange ticks our group has, or how skinny you are, or that nothing quite adds up. There's no doubt that they have mailed their parents about how strangely the 'Great Harry Potter' is acting, and how the Snakes might be hurting him, or worse. If they do not target us, they will turn to the next thing in line. Those cani you live with." Harry gave him a disbelieving stare, the words not quite sinking in, and startled when Professor Snape put a hand on his shoulder. The man looked deep into his eyes, understanding, but not sympathetic.

"Nothing is hidden from the masses, Harry. All comes to light, or is woven into untruths they eat and thrive one." Harry stared at him silently, knowing the man was right, before averting his eyes to the floor.

"Please take off your shirt so I can check for the rest, Harry." Professor Snape asked softly, not moving. Harry obeyed, wordless, not reacting when the Potions master tsked again and again, waving his wand over the pieces of paper multiple times. He watched as old cuts from where a belt buckle had cut in too deep appeared, and as burns from when he was too young to really use the stove dug themselves into the white paper, leaving ugly marks. He absently supposed his body was an ugly sight, with all the dents and nicks that were covered when he wore his ring. A catalogue of his screw-ups.

He wondered if he could destroy the papers before the Professor could show them to anyone.

But the Professor seemed to know what he was thinking of and slid each paper into his satchel as soon as it was finished forming. The bag was no doubt fire-proof and built to resist destruction, and magic-resistant. There were at least a dozen papers covered when he was done, all with the worst injuries the boy had accumulated over the years. There were, of course, ones not visible, such as old broken bones or concussions or even dangerous fevers that most likely would have done him off if not for magic. Snape read over the list again, trying to figure out the best way to broach the next topic.

"Harry... would you feel comfortable telling me just how you received these? It would help clarify certain matters." He tentatively put forth, watching the Potter's face for any change. There was none, besides a slight twitch in the corner of his eye and the clenching of his lips.

"I cut off my own finger, and caused the burns. Too clumsy. Any concussions were because I slipped running from Dudley, and any broken bones are because he caught me. The-" he paused here, taking a breath before rushing forward again, "The scars on my back are from what they look like they're from." Snape frowned.

"Harry, as clumsy as you were, you cannot have possibly been so much so that you cut off your own finger and caused severe burns to your person. And would you please explain what 'they look like they're from' means? I would rather you say it then go on assumption." A scowl flickered across Harry's face and he nearly snapped at the mean, but he reeled in his frustration. Instead, he merely grit his teeth, green racing across his fingertips. The wax feeling built, covering and covering him.

"I got beaten by- with a belt because I couldn't cook a roast in an hour and ruined a dinner party that would have gotten him a promotion." He bit out, hands fisting, "And the only reason he stopped was because of the fact that when he went near me again, the tellie started vibrating and almost flew off the stand into him. I cut off my own finger because I was trying to handle a butcher's knife with head trauma and missed the meat, and I burned myself because I couldn't properly use the stove at the age of four."

Professor Snape said nothing, only jotted something down on another piece of paper. He mutely turned back to Harry and prodded him in the chest with his wand before jumping away. A burst of light went through the room and when the spots cleared from Harry's eyes, he saw that just about everything in the room was on fire, including the Professor and Blaise. He yelped and quickly put them out with a extinguish before running around and trying to stomp out some of the worst fires. Professor Snape was saying something behind him, and he jumped when the man grabbed him and forced him to sit down on the couch. The man put out the particularly bad blaze Harry had been attempting to control before turning back to the two boys, who were huddled on the couch.

"What just happened?" Harry squeaked, peering around in confusion and slight fear at all the scorch marks now adorning the furniture and walls. Professor Snape sighed, and bent down to pick something up. Looking closer, Harry saw that it was the book Theo had sent. The one he had been holding when the three adults had walked in.

"As I said Mr. Potter, I believe this is far more of a problem than we thought."

Harry walked around in a slight daze, left to his own devices after the Professor had left. The moment the man was out the floo, Blaise had run off in the other direction claiming he had something he needed to do, and Draco was still skulking in his room. So Harry was left to wander around and try to avoid Narcissa, who had given him worried glances when they came out. Lucius was more busy trying to figure out how the three of them had managed to burn the whole room.

The Manor really was quite beautiful. Portraits hanged among landscapes, and wide windows opened out to the grounds, showing trees and plains that stretched to the wards. The walls were a gentle blue colour, and the floor speckled marble. It was a sight to behold.

He gazed at the portraits, seeing small angles and colours and traits that were in Lucius and Draco. He could see the progressive bleaching of hair, the sharpening of features as the centuries progressed. It was fascinating, being able to view the change of a whole family. Did the Potters have something like this? Lines of portraits of the ancestors, going back decades or centuries and showcasing the changes of the line? Did the Blacks?

He paused at one, something in his memory niggling. It was the woman who had stopped them before, asking after his parents. She had a range of colours, he could now see, not the plain dark he had thought of her before. There were accents of blue in her eyes, red around her cheekbones. It provided much more than a drab portraiture- brought to her life, as the others in the hall had been. She gazed down at him, solemn, waiting for him to do something.

"Um.. what did you say your name was, ma'am?" He asked hesitantly, turning to fully stand in front of her. "We were in a bit of a hurry when you caught our attention, and I believe I was a bit rude."

"And I caught you at an inopportune time." She replied, bowing her head, "I know you three were hurrying to dine with Lucius and Narcissa. I should have waited until a later time. My name is Dorea Black, Harrison. I don't believe I was alive when you were born." Harry tilted his head in thought. That name was familiar, but just where had he heard it? It was important, obviously, if it was bothering him this much.

"Why would it matter, ma'am? I know that I have Black blood, but I doubt that the family considers each and every baby important." Dorea chuckled and covered her mouth, eyes shining with amusement.

"The Blacks treasure each new child in the family, no matter where they came, boy. And my maiden name may be Black, but it was 'Potter' for 40 years." Harry's jaw dropped, the memory finally clicking into place, and he scrambled back to get a better view of her. Of course. Dorea Black was the woman Draco had mentioned who had married in- just how did he forget that? Now that he was actually aware of it, he could see where he had gotten her nose, and how her hair was as dark as his. It cast her in a new light, and he swallowed around a hard lump in his throat, staring up at his grandmother.

"I-I did not remember that." He squeaked, scowling when his voice came out high. He cleared his throat. "M-my apologies, ma'am-" Dorea waved it off, now making no effort to cover her smirk.

"I cannot expect you to know if you have not been exposed much, young one. Knowing James, he most likely cursed our names and declared us dark wizards?" Harry cleared his throat again, this time with an air of discomfort, and averted his eyes.

"Uh, James and Lily Potter are dead, ma'am. Died around 1991. I-I'm sorry." He said timidly, flinching at the sharp intake of breath following it.

"How did they die? Tell me." She demanded, leaning forward in her portrait. Her nose was almost touching the invisible barrier that separated paint and reality.

"V-the Dark Lord killed them. From what I've been told, he'd been hunting them for months. They'd gone into hiding, but he found them and invaded our house in Godric's Hollow. Killed Dad before coming after Mum. She-she died trying to protect me."

"And how did you survive? No one escapes the Dark Lord's clutches, especially a babe!"

"I don't know," He honestly answered with a shrug, "Everyone just says I defeated him- which doesn't really make sense since I was a baby- and when they found me, the house was wrecked and the Dark Lord gone. Dumbledore said he was dead." Dorea disappeared from view, tramping around her portrait and cursing up a storm. Harry pinkened at some of them and covered his ears, waiting until she calmed. It took some time.

"You'd think with how those two gossip I'd have been informed of this a decade ago." Dorea snarled, her lips drawn back. "Thank you for finally telling me this, Harrison. There is little chance I would have learned it without you." She gruffly wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, still muttering.

"...Well, I think they were happy up until then," He ventured, "They at least had that. And the war's stopped, except for a few laws that get proposed every once in a while." Dorea scoffed, shifting in her seat.

"Happy... What a concept with that boy. He never seemed happy with us. I was alive until 1977, and I can remember James chasing after that girl- Lily Potter nee Evans, I'm guessing?- constantly, I suppose she finally gave in. But they were not there for the past ten years, no? You've grown without your parents, a saddening tragedy. How have you fared, Harrison?" Harry faltered, and struggled to say something, nothing positive coming up.

"..I've been alright. I mean, it could be better, but I at least have Blaise and the other Snakes. It could be better, yeah, but everything could be better, it's been..." He muttered, trailing off at the end. He hugged his arms as if to ward off the memories, and shivered when Dorea gave him a piercing eye.

"Well? Tolerable? Horrible? What has been happening, young one?" She murmured, placing a hand against the barrier. A bitter chuckle escaped him, and when they started, he couldn't stop. Harry curled into himself, his body shaking with the force of the laughter. He had to force himself to stop, and spread his arms in dark amusement.

"This, all of this- the magic, Draco Blaise everyone and everything, it's like a dream. Some, some miracle happened when I was young that let me meet Blaise, made me realise 'oh, I'm a damn servant' and I was content with knowing that and having a safety net of my group, knowing I could escape when I was older or threaten them with compliance to ensure my safety and just tolerate it all but now someone, probably Nicola with how Blaise and Lucius and everyone else is acting, decided to splatter everyone's private business on the front page of the Prophet, like it was their choice to make, their allowance to completely ruin the life of someone else!

"Did- did she even consider how I would feel? How- how whoever else she had gutted would feel? I thought she actually considered me, actually took into thought what I was always saying in our letters. I don't want to be some martyr, didn't want to be, and now I'm stuck with this and the boys breathing down my neck because oh the Ministry's labeled me as some incredible danger! What am I supposed to do, supposed to say? I'm not the great person the others seem to delude themselves into thinking I am, I'm just a freak!" He shouted, falling to the floor. Dorea watched on with pursed lips as he silently shook, refusing to cry. She put her hand against the barrier again, cursing the limitations of magic.

"It may be bad now, little one, and there is no guarantee it will grow better. But there is no guarantee it will grow worse, either. You must not give up because you feel cornered, or because your secrets have been laundered. Utilize what has been written, twist it to your advantage. Analyse what is happening, and mold it to your liking. You are not a freak, or stupid, or in a dream. You are here, and you are a Black. Use what you have been given to win, as we have done for generations upon generations."

"But I can't do that if there's nothing to work with! I-I'm in deep waters, in the middle of the ocean with no sense of direction! I don't know who exactly came forward, or what might happen next, or even what to do about my magic!" He hissed, raising his head from his knees.

"You are not." Dorea said firmly, "You have a suspicion of who did it, yes? And you know what you are, whatever that is. You have your Blaise and Draco, and the others who are with you. Ask for their help- no Snake is too proud or too arrogant not to offer it. If they are, they are not true Snakes. You have made it this far, with less help. And others may help with your magic... tell me, what is the problem? Why has the Ministry labeled you?"

Harry mutely raised his hand, willing for tendrils of the green, green energy to rise and twist together, eventually forming a chrysanthemum. He then crushed it, letting the particles float in the air until they gravitated back to his hand, fading into the skin. Dorea watched with wide eyes, and only let out a breath when all the pieces had disappeared.

"Circe's child," She whispered, still staring at his hand, "For one of them to be in our line.. in mine.. Merlin and Morgana.." He glanced at her before turning back, creating another shape, this time a dog.

"We just found out. Or rather, Theo decided to send me a set of books and Draco and Blaise subsequently panicked because they realised what he was getting at. I-they told me I was something dangerous. Something that couldn't turn out well- I'd go unstable, or that I'd be turned into a weapon. And then Professor Snape said that it was all propaganda and that there's not much actual information on Atronaches besides the dynamics.. I don't know what to believe." He crushed the dog in his palm, the green oozing out between his fingers before slipping back up and fading. "What did you call it? Circe's children?"

"There- there are many terms." Dorea said shakily, gathering herself, "I have heard them named Amaterasu's Rays, Circe's Children, Atronaches, Mantrik. They have many names, spanning cultures and history. They are, however, always figures of immense power and infinite abilities. Do you know you are truly one?"

Harry hummed. "I've been able to do wandless and wordless magic since I was seven, can see magic around people and objects, and am somehow doing this. I managed to incapacitate a troll last Hallow's Eve. I've also started suspecting that I've been absorbing magic somehow. It'd explain what happened in Diagon Alley."

"Then there is substantial evidence." Dorea mumbled to herself. She cupped her chin in thought, a troubled expression adorning her face. "And you say the Ministry is spreading negative propaganda? What a travesty. In my time, to have a child of Circe in your line was the highest honour. It was thought that the First Witch was smiling down upon your family."

"Well, that's changed," Harry said crossly, "Now I amount to some dangerous, ticking time-bomb that needs to be locked up. I'm going to have to learn mind arts and dozens of protection and binding spells just to keep myself in check, since just the upstart of today's set me off more than twice. Add that to the abuse scandal gearing up and wonderful school, and I'm just a bundle of roses right now."

The two fell silent, dancing in their own thoughts. Harry kept forming shapes with his magic, trying to make them bigger and bigger. So far, he'd managed to create a life-sized meerkat and crup along with the dog and flower. It distracted him, and kept away the things lurking at the edges of his mind. Dorea was thinking as well, but on a far darker path than her grandson.

Finally, as Harry began to stand and stretch, Dorea called down to him once more.

"I knew someone like you, Harrison. He was not a kind child, and he did not grow to be a kind man. But," She paused, and sighed here, "But he came out on top each and every time he was faced with challenge. It is a crying shame that he turned out as he did, and that you could not meet him as he was. He was far dangerous than anything you will hopefully encounter. I daresay I should not have even mentioned him." She said solemnly, hands crossed in her lap.

"N-no, tell me about him! If he managed to best this, then he could help me! And I know I need all of it that I can reach, especially from someone more experienced than a first-year!" He demanded, giving her desperate eyes. Dorea shook her head and turned to leave, and in a fit of panic Harry grabbed the edges of her frame. Cracks danced up it and he drew back in horror, covering his mouth with his hands. A long, stagnant pause hanged in the air, Harry refusing to even glance at the older woman while she creeped around the edges in shock. Dorea covered her eyes with a hand after a time, as if to shield herself from what she was about to say.

"In Lucius' study, there should be a bookshelf hidden behind spells and a wall. The buffoon walked by me one day bragging of it with his 'acquaintances'. There, you'll need to find a small alcove..."

This had been unbelievably easy. Harry was slightly worried with how quickly he had slipped past the defenses on Lucius' office.

(Then again, he supposed the whole probable "magic absorbing" thing had something to do with it).

All it had taken was a small touch to the door, and the magic rushed to his fingers, disappearing with a chill on his fingertips that went up his arm. He had to pull it back quickly, or else the whole ward would have gone instead of just the small hole he had somehow made. Honestly, he still didn't get the dynamics of that. Didn't think he wanted to.

He quietly opened the door, knowing from a quick portrait reconnaissance that the elder Malfoys were in their bedchambers, sleeping. That was understandable, since it was well past midnight and he honestly shouldn't be up either. But he had to do this, and he hadn't been able to even doze off. His mind was too active, too uneased tonight. The room inside was well-kept, with a fireplace off to the side and a landscape of the sea hanging over it. A desk sat at the far end, covered in parchments. There were bookshelves to the right, as Dorea had said, and he could see the faint outline of silver behind one, along with foreboding, darker outlines. It seemed Lucius was hiding more than one would guess.

He trotted over to the bookshelf and pondered how he would move it. Should he levitate it with a spell, or make it lightweight? Maybe he could try to-oh. He paused, staring blankly at the overt and garish, red book on the bottom shelf. Surely... no. He couldn't have. Wizards can't be that stupid.

Stepping forward, he tugged on the bright book. There was a loud click, and the bookshelf began to shift, slowly sinking into the floor. After about a minute, only enough to make a step was poking out. He stared at it a bit, more than a little disappointed. First the Wizarding world had stereotypes abound, and then there's a villain-esque bookshelf that apparently no one noticed? Morgana save me, he thought exasperatedly.

There indeed was a bookshelf, the silver outline around it much more prominent, and he stepped forward, searching for the alcove Dorea had mentioned. From what she said, it would be at the top.. Ah! There it is! He grinned victoriously and commanded a silent rise, hands reaching up as his body floated to the ceiling.

A small, nearly hidden alcove was hidden at the top, nearly invisible to anyone standing on the ground. It was layered and layered in both silver and a sickly red. He curiously touched some of the foreign magic, snatching his hand back when it shocked his finger. His eyes narrowed, and he suddenly darted his hand forward through the shield, flinching from the sudden shock and pain racing up his arm. But he stayed still, and waited for them to crawl up his arm, glowing fainter and fainter the higher they reached. He only moved when the layers of web had creeped fully into his arm and faded. Letting out a shaky breath, he reached further and picked up what lay in the alcove.

It was lightweight, and almost familiar to his senses, like seeing the face of a relative who you haven't been in contact with for years. A shiver went down his spine, and he quickly pocketed it and reversed his work, throwing up his own wards and illusions that would hopefully fool Lucius if he ever checked before floating back down. He stood around for a few moments, trying to figure out how to get the bookshelf back into position before experimentally tapping it with his foot. He shook his head when it slowly moved back up with a grating sound.

He left the room and returned to his room in less than ten minutes, no one in the manor noticing his nightly theft.

It was awkward the next morning. Whatever Snape had said to Lucius and Narcissa obviously wasn't enough for them, but one of them must have made a move and demanded the other stay silent, since they refused to even look at each other during breakfast. Blaise was doing the same to him, and Harry was already growing tired of it, wishing the other would just pretend like everything was alright and babble on about wine or cats or something. Draco was the only one acting any semblance of normal, complaining about Hermione's lengthy letter thanking him for whatever he had sent her. It had Harry rolling his eyes, but at least it was waters he knew.

He was spreading some strawberry jam on a slice of toast when Lucius cleared his throat, uneasily shifting in his seat. All three boys immediately looked to him, differing expression on their faces. Harry's was expectant, Draco's warning, and Blaise's dangerous; but the man ignored them and cleared his throat again, opening his mouth to speak.

"I apologise for the commotion yesterday boys. We could have handled that better than we did." He said quietly, wincing when Narcissa made some motion under the table. He shot a quick glare at her and continued. "We know you go back to Hogwarts in two days, and I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere, as a sendoff of sorts." Harry blinked, and looked between the others, wondering what they should say. Anywhere magical was automatically ruled out, seeing as they had no desire to go into the chaos that'd be there. But there was very little chance the Malfoys would willingly set foot in anywhere mundane, putting them in a tight set of choices. Harry bit his lip in thought before perking up, glancing towards Draco.

"Hey, why don't we go to that park you're always raving about? I could finally see what you're talking about when you mean 'beautiful as a veela'." He teased, a small smile growing on his face when the blond gave him an excited gape.

"Yes! Could we go there, Father?" Draco asked, dancing a little in his seat before catching himself. Lucius hid a chuckle behind his hand at his son's behavior and nodded.

"We'll leave around noon."

It was a large, open-air glade that they arrived in when they apparated, a process that made Harry almost hurl on Draco's 20-galleon shoes. There were trees surrounding and swallowing the area, and bushes planted in a ring in front of those; large, blue flowers bloomed on them, despite the fact it was the end of December. Harry gazed around in delight, shifting a bit when a small child ran past.

"This is amazing." He murmured, bending to pick a small sprig from the ground. "Do they sustain this all on magic? Who does?"

"The Ministry." Answered Lucius, who was taking a seat on a nearby bench, "Two decades ago they arranged to have it created so those afraid to go into the muggle world could relax outside of markets like Diagon Alley." Narcissa sat next to him, giving the boys a gentle smile.

They went off in their own directions, Draco shouting something about getting flowers to show them and Blaise darting off as he had yesterday afternoon. Harry ambled around the opening, marveling at how well-tended to the plants were, and how bright the colours of everything were. A few children were running around, parents watching or chasing after them. Sometimes, one would shoot of a spell, turning hair green or making them bounce. It was peaceful.

When he reached the edge of the treeline, Harry sat down, leaning against a large bush. He could see everything from here, and the sun was so warm against his skin.

He didn't realise he had dozed off until Blaise sat next to him, hesitantly shaking his shoulder. He rubbed sleep-filled eyes and sent a questioning glance to his friend, who was looking quite uncomfortable.

"Hey Blaise, what is it? Finally going to tell me why you've been avoiding me like Patil and Lavender?" He joked. Blaise didn't respond, only frowning. Harry furrowed his brow, worried. "Hey, what is it? Did something happen while I was gone or something? You know I didn't mean the avoiding thing, right?" Blaise jerkily nodded his head before suddenly spinning to Harry and taking the smaller boy's hands in his own.

"Spiacente, spiacente fratellino e Io non posso dire esso abbstanza." He whispered, lower lip clenched tight between his teeth. Harry gave him a bewildered look and tugged his hands away, replacing them on top of Blaise's.

"I still don't know Italian, but I do know some of that at least. Why are you apologising, Blaise? You didn't do anything." Harry asked, confused.

"But I have! Misguided words said out of worry, that, that sired this horrid mess!" The boy cried, eyes scrunching up, "I did not mean for this to explode, I swear! I only expressed my concern to Mama, I did not expect her to do this! I just-just-"

"Oy, calm down Blaise, it isn't the end of the world," Harry said sternly, rubbing the boy's back, "Listen, she probably would have done it at some point anyways, yeah? And there were multiple people who came forward, not just your Mama. On that point I should probably hunt down Theo and Neville when we get back to school... but that's besides the point. As upset I am, and angry, I'm not going to blame you for being worried."

"But you should! You should not just forgive people because of eventuality, you should be angry and stay angry! How can you just accept this, Harry?" Harry helplessly shrugged his shoulders, throwing his eyes upward.

"I adapt Blaise. It might be painful, but I adapt." Blaise made a noise of disapproval in the back of his throat, but fell silent. Harry continued to rub circles into his back, laughing inwardly over how their roles seemed to be reversed. The darker boy's shoulders slowly relaxed, and he leaned into Harry's arms, huffing out a laugh when the smaller boy grunted.

"...Hey Blaise?"

"Hm?"

"What are we going to do about the giant dog thing? We haven't exactly made any headway in the past week or so."

"Oh. Theo and Hermione already hashed that out." Harry shoved Blaise away, gaping at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean, 'hashed that out'? Why didn't any of you tell me? What-what did they find out?" Blaise rubbed his head and dug around in his pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper a moment later. He handed it to Harry.

The only things written on it were "Nicholas Flamel- Philosopher's Stone," and "Cerberus- weakness to music," which was underlined several times over. Harry flipped it over, seeing if there was more, but that was it.

"They thought it would be best if we said as little as possible," Blaise explained, taking the note back and replacing it, "So if it got intercepted no one would really understand what it meant. I haven't actually told Draco yet, since he's been, y'know, less than enthusiastic about it. He even sent it with a generic barn owl, of all things. Can you believe it might really be the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry shook his head dumbly, still processing those tiny words. The Philosopher's Stone- that was like hiding the bloody holy grail in a secondary school. What insanity had gripped Flamel to ALLOW that? He ran a hand through his hair and realised it was down. Had he really been that distracted this morning that he forgot to put it up?

Tying it into a small tail, he finally replied to Blaise. "Honestly? No. Flamel'd be a fool if it really is there. Do you think there's any reason?"

"Maybe he's hiding it, or using it as insurance?" Blaise hummed. Harry shrugged, and was about to answer when something crashed into the ground next to him, startling the blood out of both of them. He hit whatever it was only to hear a pained groan and peeked over to see Draco, who was rubbing his head with a scowl.

"You know, if you didn't want me here, you could have just told me. I know you two love your brotherly bonding time." He grumbled, laying down a bundle of flowers. Harry turned to Blaise to ask just what he meant by "brotherly bonding time", but the other boy was shooting Draco daggers from his eyes.

"Uh." He stuttered, eyebrows rising, "Did I miss something here?" And while Blaise vehemently shook his head, Draco barked out a laugh that told him yes, yes he did.

"Oh Harry, so innocent. Idiot here's been calling you 'brother' for months. Honestly, you'd think you'd be suspicious and actually look up what 'fratello' meant." He said bemusedly, handing his bundle to Harry. Harry stared down at them, a mixture of daffodils and daisies in the strangest colours, mixtures of blues and reds and yellows and greens. He shuffled them a bit before tentatively glancing at Blaise under his lashes. The boy was blushing to the roots of his hair and wringing his hands. A smile crept on Harry's face, and he cast his eyes upwards once more.

"Five years. You'd think you'd just be able to tell me outright."

Harry paced nervously back and forth. He was in his room, packing for the trip back to Hogwarts tomorrow. Everyone else was surely asleep, the moon high in the sky and the house elves glowering at him disapprovingly when he went outside his room. His clothes were sandwiched into his trunk, books shrunk and slipped into a pocket sewn in the lining, and various knickknacks tucked away in the crevices. His wand, Atronaches, and it were the only things out, sprawled across his bed. He glanced at them anxiously before spinning on his heel once more. His dilemma was a large one, and nothing of the sort that would solve itself.

Should he bring them? What if someone searched his things, found the book and discovered his secret? Or if someone saw it, and saw how it reeked of magic and how it just couldn't possibly be anything normal? He'd be expelled, investigated, suppressed, something horrible and damning. But he KNEW he couldn't go without these, knew he definitely couldn't leave them in the Manor for the Malfoys to find, especially considering it was uncertain if he would ever return.

He let out a whine before halting and staring resolutely at the bed. With firm steps, he marched up to it and picked up Atronaches. A jerk of his hand and it was shrunk it to the size of a pill. He opened the necklace Blaise had gifted him, gazing down at the faces of his parents for a moment. He carefully laid it inside, making sure not to cover his parents' faces. They smiled and waved as they had each time he opened it, and his mother mouthed a hello. He gave them a weak smile before shutting it and turning to the last issue. With trembling fingers, he delicately picked up the small journal, rubbing his fingers over its leather. He pried it open to the first page, and froze with fear as he saw what appeared.

Hello. Are you the one who has been hovering around me the past while?

HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HI GUYS I HIT A ROADBLOCK WRITING THIS AND THEN DIDN'T BOTHER SOOOOOOO THERES THE REASON THIS IS A MONTH BEHIND? BUT IT IS HERE. AND AT LEAST I DIDN'T PUBLISH IT FOUR YEARS AFTER THE LAST UPDATE LIKE ONE GOOD STORY I KNOW.

Translations:

cani - dogs

Spiacente, spiacente fratellino e Io non posso dire esso abbstanza - I apologise, I apologise little brother and I cannot say it more

AO3 COMMENTS:

bart - thank you! Continued now!

LexiKexi - thank you! Continued now!

FANFICTION REVIEWS:

Guest 1 - holy dingong thank you for pointing that out i cringed myself

geetac - Grazie amico!

Sazq - huhu, it's alright! A review is a lovely thing, no matter when it is!

LadyAnnabellaIronBlood - aww thanks! And also, HAHA ANOTHER ONE

Gloria Rayne - Thanks! Also, this is not soon, so spiacente amico.

Will D - Thanks! Also, apologizing for lateness. Oh, laziness and writer's block, how you are hated.

Deathday Party Planner - Always a joy to see you! Although I must plead that you don't call a panic attack a seizure. Bit of a misnaming there by a long shot. And yes, it was quite a strong reaction, and my reasoning for it is a bit flimsy even to me without more of a buildup, so I won't make excuses. It was more of a plot point to introduce the others to the fact that "oh. Somethings not right with Harry". And I might consider what you suggested! Although thinking of it, its suddenly taken another route in my mind... hmmmm. Also, concerning Dorea, explanation!

MargaritaS - :D

Guest 2 - :D

jumping-jo - Thanks! I'm really big on languages, and I'm learning Italian now, so its a joy to include it and some of the family culture ;)