Happy Almost-Monday. It's almost double my usual length. :) As always, reviews are welcome

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Devlin looked in the mirror to check his hair. His robes were simple but quality - worthy of a dinner. The only shoes he had were his dragon hide boots, which didn't exactly match - perhaps he should transfigure them…but she would notice and he didn't want to seem stuck on his appearance.

They were already there when Devlin came down the stairs. She was chatting idly about Ginny's lovely home. Ginny seemed like she had done these types of dinners before and fell into an easy pattern of simple conversation concerning her decor choice. Devlin's presence seemed to interrupt everyone and they glanced at him.

For a moment Devlin felt frozen. Which was foolish, since he'd been talking to her this whole past week. But now she knew.

"Hey, Devlin," Harry said, and came over to him. "Do you want to show Alexandra where the kitchen is? She brought a pie."

"Oh, yes, of course," he said. He smiled the way one was meant to smile in such situations - he'd seen it on his own mum's face any number of times. "It is just down this way."

She followed him and he tried not glance back, aware what Harry had done and knowing they'd be alone, face to face, in the kitchen in just a second.

"You can probably just put it on the table," he said. "They have a cabinet charmed to be cold if you'd prefer. We have a fridge at my house - well it's charmed too but-"

"John and I have a fridge too," she said easily. "I was raised muggle. He thinks it is the funniest thing - but I could never get used to the charmed cabinet. Somehow my mornings did not feel complete unless I was getting my milk for coffee from a fridge."

Devlin laughed.

"Yeah. My dad was raised as a muggle too. He still cooks like one even."

"Oh yes, that's right. I'd forgotten Mr. Potter was raised by family in the muggle world."

"So ah," Devlin looked around the kitchen.

"John said you were remarkably empathetic when you reached out to him. He said you have a way with words. I - I appreciate you took the first step even though I should have handled it better and reached out to Harry. I mean - your situation is unique and fascinating and easy to work through like a puzzle but…you being mine in some way really made it more real than before and I was momentarily…"

"Frozen?"

"Yes," she said.

"It's okay. Sometimes I freeze too. My friend tells me it helps to imagine all your hot blood flowing through your body and to tell yourself you can do anything for one minute."

"That is very wise advice."

"She also says you should count to ten before you say something you'll regret…but I never get past five."

Alexandra laughed and the sound must have drawn the others into the kitchen.

"Oh my gosh - John tells me the same thing. I never get past three. So you're better than me!"

He liked her easy laughter. It made him smile.

"I have a lot of practice with patience so I mean if you practice you might get to five too."

"What are we talking about?" John asked, his eyebrows quivering with bemusement.

"Counting to ten so you don't say something you'll regret," Alexandra said. "Apparently Devlin has a friend who has given him the advice but he can't get past five."

"Oh, imagine that," John said, rolling his eyes. "I can already see Emery will be the same. Words are his weapon and shield and I doubt he would be persuaded by anything to hold back."

The room went a little quiet.

"Well if he's half as handsome as Devlin you'll all be in trouble. I'm sure Devlin could charm anyone he pleased," Ginny said - somehow so motherly it made Devlin seem like a regular boy.

"He actually looks almost exactly like Devlin," John said, slowly. "It's how I knew he must be Devlin when he came to my office."

"I'm honestly not sure how I missed it," Alexandra added. She bit her lip. "Do you really look like him, Devlin? Or was he just blinded by his desires for, as you say, what if."

Devlin pursed his lips and then he lifted his hand - a picture from the mantle in the other room came floating into the room. It bobbled until it was next to Harry's head. Albus' smiling face beamed out, waving.

"Does he look like Harry?"

"Yes."

"Exactly?"

"Well, no," Alexandra said.

"But when I came here and there was no Harry standing next to him I still thought I was in the past. I thought he was Harry Potter. I'm the same with my grandfather. Anyone who remembers him would say you look exactly like him but I don't really. What does it matter, anyway? If it makes you feel better I look like Thomas Riddle senior - a muggle man of wealthy upbringing. He never did a bad thing in his life, aside from being insensitive and rude."

"That ah…that does actually help," Alexandra said.

"It's better than getting my dads hair," he added, laughing.

"Merlin yes," Ginny said. "Even I will agree to that. Poor Alby. Lily too - but hers is long enough it can be convinced to lay flat…most of the time."

"Your children are adorable," Alexandra said, smiling at Ginny. "I noticed the pictures in your living room when we came in."

"Thank you," Ginny said. For a moment Devlin appreciated how awkward this must be specifically for her. Devlin had no connection with her. He did not look like her other children in the way he looked like John's son. If they had a family picture with Devlin in it, he'd stick out as not belonging. He didn't even look like Harry. "Shall I bring us some tea in the living room while we wait for dinner to finish?"

All the adults nodded and shuffled off to settled themselves on the comfortable sofas. Perhaps Ginny just wanted a moment to herself.

"So," Alexandra said, sounding uncertain but determined. She leaned forward - her hands grasped together and her arms resting on her knees. "I'm not sure I'll find a casual way to bring this up in normal conversation and don't want to leave it until the last moment - is there paperwork you need me to sign? I'm not sure how you want to proceed."

Harry froze for a second as he sat down.

"Paperwork?"

"You told John you had done a paternity test," she said. "It occurred to me I really should too."

"I did, so that the Ministry would not be able to name him a ward."

"I definitely understand why you did it - and did it so quickly. I appreciate the stability it has assured - and your connection with the Ministry has allowed you to craft an agreement with them that I recognize only happened because it is you on his paperwork," Alexandra said, in that voice that Devlin knew meant she was trying to be delicate. "The fact remains that, even if we were to discover how Devlin came here and devise a way to return him, we're looking at months of trial in order to assure it is a safe method."

"That is probably true," Harry said, vaguely. Devlin could see that in some way they both understood the topic they were dancing around - but Devlin truly had no idea.

"Your name being the sole name on the papers," she said, breathing deeply. "Well it simply puts you at an advantage to decide things about his life, his involvement with the Ministry, what about him is released to the public, what he does with his time while he is here - all of it. And frankly, I am well aware that if we wait to have this discussion - perhaps if we realize returning him isn't going to be quick or plausible - you will be at even more of an advantage under the law."

Harry sat back. Ginny had returned to the room in the middle of Alexandra's statement and handed out tea with the air of someone who knew she did not really belong. John smiled at Devlin as if trying to be reassuring.

"I think it is clear Devlin cares deeply about your feelings involving your heritage - I would follow his lead in what was released and of course I believe he would take your feelings into account."

She leaned forward.

"I did not mean it that way, or I would not be discussing this topic. I could have denied a connection to him at all if that was the issue." Her voice remained calm, but Devlin could feel her unease. She turned to him. "I didn't mean it that way Devlin."

Her eyes pleaded with him. He felt that his blood and his connection probably felt very close to her feelings about her son and his connections. Having been confronted with her blood she was also confronted with how she would make her child feel about his. Her son was too little to wage the war on behalf of, but Devlin was right in front of her.

"I know," Devlin said, softly. "Though I'm not sure what you mean by the rest."

Harry looked at him, that fondness that Devlin couldn't understand being there so quickly shining in his gaze.

"She means she wants you to be hers in the same way I made you mine."

"I mean I want to be able to help you. I know what I am not Devlin. I am not your real mum. She and I share DNA - marking you as someone who was born to someone with my unique set of genetics. I know that is, right now, our only connection. I'm not trying to bring any emotions into this or make you feel obligated to feel anything for me. But if I wait for that connection, or if you need my help at some point, or if you can't go home - if I wait I will lose any leverage I have."

Harry sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. He was never very good at negotiations.

"You mean if you leave today without having this discussion you're worried Harry would use that against you." Devlin said. She nodded. "To be fair, you and Harry don't really know each other and to be fair I don't really know either of you here in this world. But there are some things I can assure you are the same about both of you - Harry has too much damn love in him to try and use someone's love for anything against them. You are too logical and rightfully strategic to not make sure you've done all the correct steps in the exact correct order."

He looked between everyone.

"There has got to be some paper you can sign that recognizes she wants this, without giving it to her today, so that you can move onto the steps that will assure you she is safe and won't hurt me. And if you have those concerns there has to be something he can do to assure you I am safe here."

"Devlin is right. We should acknowledge this conversation, and your desires, in writing. I do not have an issue with you having smilier legal rights to Devlin - he is as much your blood as he is mine. However, I won't feel comfortable signing any amendments to his paperwork without first knowing you, which I don't. And without discussing the issue with Devlin in private so I can be sure he feels he can express his honest opinion on the matter."

"What do you need in order to know me?" She asked, with a pointed edge. "I only just learned he was my father - I can quite assure you I have no connection to his servants. I grew up in America."

"Death Eaters," Devlin whispered.

She turned to him.

"What?"

"They're called Death Eaters," he said, louder.

"Right, yes. I remember reading that. With the tattoo on their arm."

"Yes," Devlin said.

"I really grew up quite away from it," she said to Harry. "I only returned because I met John and he got the job at the Ministry."

"Well maybe - we could start with dinner at your house some night," Harry said, trying to smile lightly. But if Harry loved easily, he protected family with a vice grip even stronger, and Devlin was realizing Harry already considered him family. There was nothing light about this in Harry's mind.

"That would seem like a doable next step," she said, sighing with a feeling of success. "In the meantime, I'd like to discuss some other things. Mainly - has Devlin been seen by a healer? The wound he described on Hogwarts grounds was quite significant."

"Yes, he saw a healer," Harry said. "The first day. It was determined the wound had been left by a dark curse - explaining that took a bit of craft, but we walked out without an investigation. I still need to arrange for a more in-depth check-up which was not possible at that moment due to Devlin's head injury - he was worried the emergency doctor would not understand."

"Head injury?" She asked.

"Haven't you seen me with Rowan brewing that potion?"

"Yes - a potion from your world we don't have here. Rowan told Thatcher the results have been marvelous."

"And do you think the Ministry bothered to ask me to catalog potions I knew in order to figure out if there was something a twelve year old could brew that did not exist here?"

She frowned.

"I have crucio induced seizures. The thing that happens right before someone becomes nothing. I didn't think Harry would have luck explaining that to the healer since this world is in such peace."

"You have…" she licked her lips, "someone tortured you long enough that-"

Her face had drained of color. She almost looked like she'd throw up.

"Yes." He did not think she needed to know right now that he had been six.

"I think that brings up Alexandra's next point nicely," John said, taking pity on her nauseous appearance. "We wanted to know if you'd arranged for Devlin to meet with a therapist. It was clear to Alexandra from the discussion on Hogwarts' grounds that he has been traumatized."

Harry glanced at Ginny.

"I have not," he said eventually. "I'm not sure…I suppose that felt to me a little like his parents decision."

"But while he is here - it is our job to provide for his well-being," Alexandra said. "Think of how you would feel if any of your children were in Devlin's position in his world."

"To be fair," Devlin said. "I have a Mind Healer at home."

"You do?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"Yes. I meet her sometimes when we go to the cottage by the sea."

Harry frowned in confusion.

"You must have it under protection here too, because my tongue is itchy."

Harry's eyes widened with recognition and he nodded.

"Yeah, we do. You don't need to say more."

Devlin nodded.

"So you have talked to someone about what happened to you?" Alexandra asked, worry and kindness mixing in her blue eyes.

"Yes," he said, "although the past tense is only appropriate because of being here. It's not over."

"Maybe we could find a Mind Healer for you to continue with…temporarily," Alexandra offered.

"Unless you can find one who will swear an oath to die if they speak about our conversations - then I don't think so."

She laughed nervously.

"I don't think any of them do that, Devlin. I'm not sure why they would."

"Yeah they do," he said, firmly. She looked as if she did not believe him. "Traitors get killed - so it stands to reason traitorous discussions be protected in such a way that the person would die before exposing them."

Everyone was silent.

"There is no Voldemort here, Devlin," Harry said. "I get it, though. I know a few Auror who are older than me who have had mind healers like that. They're really tricky to find, though. I mean if you felt-"

"I don't," he said, rather firmly. "I like mine at home. If you find you cannot return me," he paused to level a look around the room that he hoped expressed that this was not actually to be a possibility, "then we can discuss it again."

"I think that is reasonable," Alexandra said after a moment.

"Dinner should be ready," Ginny said, seeming relieved to get back to something more normal.

Ginny was nearly as good a cook as Molly, and certainly better than his father. At some point, he said so into the silence around the table.

"I can't remember the last time Harry cooked anything," Ginny said, thoughtfully. "Maybe after I had Lily - but we all got tired of his repetitive dishes quickly."

Harry for his part shrugged.

"My dad does most of the cooking," Devlin said. "He's usually around the house around dinner time. My mum is usually still at work, or rushing to finish something. My mum usually makes breakfast since she's around then and my dad is usually sleeping after work."

"Does your dad work a nightshift? I thought you said he was Head Auror."

Harry scrutinized him. Devlin blinked, somehow still shocked at how quickly peace bred forgetfulness. Although, he supposed if Harry had killed Voldemort so young, he had never been an Auror during the height of the war. Perhaps he had never even dealt with the immediate fall out.

"Raids usually happen at night," Devlin said. "My dad goes into work some days after breakfast. He worked a lot from home - an arrangement he made after my rescue - he went back to his normal schedule when I went to Hogwarts I suppose. Emma is easy - Mrs. Weasley can always watch her. Uncle Sirius or Remus usually had to come and watch me. It was kinda impossible to find a babysitter for me when I was younger…I was wild."

"All kids are pains," Harry said, with a little laughter. "We could never find a babysitter for James either - only Molly can handle his mischievous ways."

He laughed. John laughed. Alexandra and Ginny just smiled.

"I was not mischievous," Devlin said, softly - somehow it hurt to be compared to such childishness on such a deep level. To suggest his dad had risked peoples lives not being at work because Devlin had been naughty. "My grandfather had convinced me so thoroughly that I was a dark wizard and that Harry Potter hated dark wizards - that I was certain I was going to be tortured, or if I wasn't at that moment then the moment he found out I wasn't the Devlin he remembered I would be killed. It wasn't safe to leave me with regular babysitters. And I think my dad did his best to isolate my more violent tendencies so that, after I had settled in, only those closet to my family had known."

A silence fell over the table. Harry swallowed, perhaps thinking of his own children.

"I'm so sorry all of that happened to you Devlin," Alexandra said softly. "Your childhood sounds so terrible. To grow up like that," she shook her head.

"The funny thing is I remember being happy sometimes," he said, slowly. "You find happiness wherever you can. Perhaps not to the same extent that a normal child would have - but how you measure happiness changes. I laughed. I joked. There were even Death Eater's who let me tease them - who let me be a child. As long as I knew when to stop, even Voldemort didn't really mind. Sometimes, he laughed, too."

"I honestly can't picture that," Harry said softly, almost more disturbed by the idea of Voldemort laughing than by anything else. "I figured he was to blame for your stoic and studious nature. I've seen memories of him as a kid and…"

Devlin didn't want him to finish that sentence - not in front of Alexandra.

"No," Devlin said, "although surely it was a common connection that helped tangle us together in his head, saving me. I've never needed to try very hard to piece knowledge or magic together. I learned to read when I was three - one day I just sat down and read. The next week, I started pestering my mum to teach me to read in other languages - it was all a puzzle to me, and the pieces whispered to me and aligned themselves easily. It is the same with magic - I see it's layers and it's shifts and taste the ion in the air and I feel it in me - beating next to my heart - and it all just makes perfect sense."

"Emery can read some words already," John said. "We were startled how it just seemed to happen."

"Emery does a lot that startles me," Alexandra said, almost like admitting something. "But maybe less now that I've met you."

Her worry shone bright in her eyes, even as she tried to hide it from Harry.

"My dad had a theory about my magic - about Voldemort's magic," Devlin said, dredging up the memory just for her. He spared Harry a glance - Harry looked curious. "It was one of the last conversations we had, actually. I guess he was worried I would feel like I was like Voldemort so I had to become someone like him. He said he thought that sometimes the way our magic reacts to fear shapes how the the world views us and in turn effects the choices we make. Tom and he were both orphans. Both grew up around people who did not love them. Both were hurt. Both ridiculed for their magic. In my dad's case they already knew because of his mother, in Tom's case, my dad argued - his magic was so there it would have been impossible to mistake it for something else. It didn't matter what they called Tom, he said, it was the same as when his family refused to say his name or called him freak. In the face of harm my dad's magic, despite his sometimes opposite desire, only ever whisked him away, healed bruises, or manifested in harmless things like turning a teacher's hair blue. My magic, Tom's magic, is so there - so ready to be proactive and take a want as a need, to feel a flutter of fear and lash out against the terror like a child tumbling during a nightmare. My dad's magic is the flight and mine is the fight. Don't mistake me - his choices are his own and no one else' responsibility. He is a Dark Lord. He is evil. But once, he lived in a loveless orphanage surrounded by people who ridiculed and hurt him and then punished him for reacting to being afraid; and it is of little doubt to me why he tells me all the time that fear is for lesser beings than you and I. It doesn't surprise me why he is more comfortable in the skin of a monster than a human."

It was in Harry's eyes that he saw the most understanding - out of anyone here he was probably the one who knew Voldemort the most. But it was the kind of surface understanding that a healer might show to an injured patient; there was no paradigm shift. This Harry had known all of this. This Harry had fought Voldemort. This Harry had given Voldemort a last chance - asked him to show some remorse. This Harry wasn't in the thick of it. He had left it behind. This Harry did not have a Devlin. This Harry had never yearned for the monster to save himself for the sake of his grandson. This man had never said I wish he could just be normal for you Devlin.

Devlin yearned for the bed in the house on the hill. He yearned for his own father - the smile that was just for Devlin, the knowing, knowing, knowing that he had dreaded so much. He had taken it for granted.

The table was quiet.

"Thank you, Devlin," Alexandra said softly. She knew he saw her worry. She knew he was trying to say no one is born bad. That her blood did not make her bad. That Emery's magic did not make him dangerous. "You're an exceptional boy."

"Very true," Harry said, and he was looking at Devlin as if maybe he was starting to actually see him.

Ginny started clearing dishes. Harry got up to cut the pie. Harry's magic had never been especially sneaky even when he had so desired, and so Devlin felt the little trickle of his privacy charm easily. Alexandra and his eyes met, and he knew she had too.

"So what are your plans while you're here, Devlin?" Alexandra asked, smiling at him. Perhaps thinking he needed to be distracted from the fact Harry and Ginny were having a silent conversation by the counter.

"What do you mean?"

"Well - even if you're only here for a few months, it seems a shame to lose progress on your education. Are you going to go to Hogwarts with Harry's other children? Or are you going to take the time to pursue a particular interest? I know a lot of people in the academic crowd and would be happy to help you network and find someone to mentor you in any subject."

He blinked.

"I ah - I hadn't given it any thought."

The idea that he would be stuck here for that long his chest squeeze painfully. Alexandra seemed to sense the path of his thoughts.

"Maybe you'd want to study something that would help you when you're back home."

"Like how to destroy a Dark Lord?" Devlin asked, laughing nervously despite himself.

Alexandra peered at him. Harry seemed to have heard the last part and stood frozen looking at him by the counter. She bit her lip, seeming to be having an internal debate.

"I was thinking more so about how to protect yourself against a Dark Lord."

"I've been doing that for years."

"No - you haven't. You have been surviving. You have been co-existing. But one day - you won't be tangled up in his head, as you've said. And then - well I very much doubt he's actually given you the tools to protect yourself against him."

"You mean…study how to fight?"

She swallowed.

"Yes, I mean study how to fight. Not just in a duel but with advanced magic. I saw you fly without a broom. I've only seen that in memories of people who have - but Saul said you weren't that - that your magic is whole, if chipped. But you did it anyway - what if you could do more? If we have to send you back," she said, looking uncertain but determined, "then we should send you back prepared."

Her blue eyes locked onto his green, fierce and protective and full of all the things that had made Tom so brilliant.

"He knows how to duel," Harry said, bringing plates floating over with pie on them.

"Against Voldemort?"

"He's twelve," Harry said, a bit firmly, "of course not against Voldemort."

"Are you saying he cannot be prepared to fight against Voldemort or are you-"

"I'm saying he shouldn't have to."

Alexandra drew in a breath.

"His whole life is a string of he shouldn't have to's, Mr. Potter. Here he is - in an alternative dimension, not sure if his dad is alive or dead, not sure if his sister is safe - here he is - sitting across from a man who killed the very same monster. Are you saying that if you had had the chance to sit across from a teenage you, that you wouldn't have had anything to say to help him?"

Harry clenched his teeth.

"He isn't me," Harry said. "He isn't tethering Voldemort to life. He is just a boy."

"He is not just a boy-"

"He is just a boy! He is just a boy. No, his situation isn't just anything - his situation is horrible. But he is just an exceedingly brilliant boy."

"Why-"

"Do you know what the stress of it all does to someone?" Harry asked her. "No, of course you don't. Well let me tell you - you never feel like yourself, you walk around with this foreboding sense of doom, you fear that your very presence endangers those you call friends, you dream of all the worst things that could happen and wake knowing they probably will. You don't plan ahead. You live with such terror that you think it is normal. You think of yourself as simply a means to and end - what could you do to make things better for others. Not for yourself - because you don't really matter. You're worthless except for your ability to keep others safe."

He was gripping the edge of the table.

"So no - I'm not having people come in to teach Devlin how not to die. If there is something he wants to learn - he can. But we're not making a schedule and setting goals and - we're just not. Respectfully - please - hear me. That is not what Devlin needs. He needs to heal. He needs his heart to stop beating fast whenever the floo goes off and he thinks it's just as likely it could be the killing curse as a visitor. He needs to breathe. He needs to stop screaming in his sleep. He needs to be allowed to scream. He just needs us to be here for him while he is here. He has been drowning - this is his chance to come up for a breath of air - because when we send him back, don't kid yourself - we're dumping him in the middle of the ocean to drown again."

His green eyes were full of emotions. Alexandra did not look away. Devlin thought in that moment that this what had made his parents such fierce partners - Harry had such force of emotions that it often overwhelmed others, but Alexandra took such things, all such things, in stride. Even if she did not feel the same, his mother had always been able to understand why someone else felt how they did.

"I already put in a Hogwarts packet for him - they have to give it special consideration so I knew it would take a couple weeks to process. I'll have Neville add your name to the contact sheet."

Harry took a deliberate bite of pie.

"You're right," she said after a moment. "You're right. We just need to be here for him."

She looked at Devlin.

"I didn't mean to put a burden on you Devlin. It isn't your job to fight him. I just - I just want you to be safe."

Devlin wasn't sure what to say.

"When I came here he was attacking Hogwarts," Devlin said, slowly. "He'd already killed my dad. I walked with his body back to the castle - next to Voldemort. At the sight of his dead body my mum screamed - threw herself against his magic and cracked his silencing charm. Normally her magic is so different from his - but for a moment it crashed against his and I could feel it - feel how she and I were alike. There was hardly a moment to want to be with her before I had to be his again; I fought along side him because I do not want to die. Because I am just a regular boy - a foolish boy - who manages to be extraordinary in the face of death." He leaned forward to look at her. "I am strong. Stronger than you have seen. Stronger than Harry thinks. I know how not to die."

She was crying.

"He's right. We're sending you back to drown. It is a terrible thing to do to any child - to knowingly send-"

"Me home," he said, firmly. "You're sending me home."

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes.

"Yes," she said, probably more for herself than him.

Silence stretched across the room again.

"Lily loves little children," Ginny said softly. "Perhaps we could get the kids together to meet next time. If Devlin is going to be here for awhile, probably over holiday break, we will be seeing a lot of each other."

"That sounds great," Alexandra said. "I'm not sure Emery will really understand-"

"Don't tell him," Devlin said. "You don't have to tell him anything about you and I. I won't be here long enough. He doesn't deserve to have someone leave him. You're not my mum and Harry isn't my dad - and I am okay with that."

She peered at him for a long moment.

"We'll cross that bridge if it comes," she said, "like a mind healer for you."

He nodded.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Some things never changed, Devlin thought, as he padded down the stairs and found Harry in the kitchen late that night. In his world it might have been rum in Harry's cup, but here it was steaming hot tea.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Devlin leaned against the doorframe.

"My dad and I are always meeting like this too. Perhaps it is one of the few ways we are alike."

Harry smiled softly.

"Alby and I often eat cookies at night."

"Mmmm, cookies. I saw Ginny making some today."

"Third cupboard - hidden in the back."

Devlin strode over and followed his directions, bringing the jar to the table.

"Not very well hidden, I should say."

Harry laughed.

"Do you want tea?"

"Nah."

"I don't think I've seen you drink tea here yet - do you not like it?"

"Not really," he said, grabbing a cookie for each of them.

"Meeting her tonight was…strange. Knowing she's his. It'd odd to think there has been a piece of him left here all this time."

"She is good," Devlin said, just as softly. "I know she can be intense."

"Definitely not the knickknack type - I can see what you meant." Devlin chuckled. Harry looked up at him. "She was right you know - it's a terrible thing to do to any child - to send them back to drown."

Devlin leaned back in his chair.

"I can take care of myself."

"I used to say that. It was absolutely not true."

"Sometimes, I wish when I said it I was lying," he whispered. Harry frowned - perhaps truly startled by the honesty Devlin hoped shone bright in his eyes. "I wasn't lying when I told her I am stronger than she thinks and stronger than you know."

"It's clear to me you are brilliant and talented and that you have a great deal of power, Devlin. But you're still just a child."

Devlin looked away.

"I'm really not, Harry," he said. "I haven't been for a long time."

"You could be here."

Devlin scratched at a stain on the table.

"When my dad rescued me he wanted that too - so desperately. It was like we were opposite ends of a magnet - his need for me to be a regular child and my inability to even comprehend what he wanted. He thought I was dead for so long. I died a child to him - his little Devlin. Beaten and bruised - they sent him a fake body. So when he captured a Death Eater with my picture in his pocket and realized that it wasn't some trophy for having participated in my death - it was like I came back to life. As if his little Devlin just took a breath and was back. It was the Death Eater - Geoffrey - who escaped with me. He had to put me to sleep, because he knew I wouldn't have left voluntarily. I woke up in a little safe house to Harry Potter and I remember being filled with the terrible sense of not knowing and knowing and not wanting to remember. Even then, I knew I'd never get to keep him."

"You didn't remember him?" Harry's voice choked.

"I'd buried my memories of them - from myself and from Voldemort. Remembering them made everything that happened with Voldemort so much harder. My mom always told me I should treat people how I would want to be treated. That the strongest person knew how to stop themselves. I couldn't do that there. So I stopped thinking of them and it was easier when I pretended I just wasn't Devlin anymore. The thing is though," he said, looking up at Harry, "breaking yourself apart never makes you stronger. I realized that the last time he kidnapped me. I realized that the only one strong enough to survive was me. All of me. So…I'm not a child. I am me. I have done things, seen things, heard things - I have nearly died and woken into a nightmare, and fallen asleep and woken to safety, and stared at my friend and told them everything would be okay even when I knew and she knew I was being taken again. I stop myself from screaming but I still tell Emma it is okay to cry. I know I am broken, but that is me. One day, I'll fill all the cracks with concrete, but right now I just try not to fall in."

Harry ran a hand over his face.

"I remember the first time my dad realized, really realized, that I had been alive that whole time. That things had happened. I was panicking and I asked for Geoffrey, and my dad went and got a Death Eater and brought him to his house. To comfort me. Because my dad knew in that moment that was what he could do for me."

Harry stared at him, his gaze heavy.

"I'm ashamed to say I judged your dad poorly based on what happened to you," Harry said, choking on his words. "But your dad did something Dumbledore could never manage with me, and I'm not sure I could have managed in his shoes. He respected you, and what had happened, and what he probably knew would happen. He tried to be on the same page with you."

He leaned forward.

"I'll try to be on the same page with you, Devlin."

"Good," Devlin said, nodding. "I don't want to train here on how not to die…but if this is my breath of air before being swallowed by the sea again - then I have some things I want to understand better. For one - I want to know how to kill the snake. I think Severus will take care of the necklace - Bella is wearing it - but I can get close to Nagini. She's been told explicitly not to attack me. I could do it."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes," he said.

"So you'll teach me how to destroy the Horcrux? Severus said something about a sword and a snake fang."

"A basilisk fang," Harry said slowly. He chewed on his lip. "I think Ron still has it. If not, there should still be one more down there."

"Where?"

"In the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts."

"I know how to get down there…but if so much time has passed it will be hard to sneak down there. And he will probably have gone there already."

"…your backpack came through with you. We should be able to have you take the one from here with you." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "We'll want to send you with Antivenom too…if any still exists. Or whatever they did for Arthur. Hermione would know more."

"She bit someone and they lived?" Devlin had never known anyone that had survived one of her bites.

"Yes. I don't think we were told much though - I was a teenager and Dumbledore feared Voldemort was using our connection to spy."

It was strange to have a version of his father speak so openly about being a Horcrux. Little things he realized he had known but never connected would shift to the forefront of his mind. When he'd been young and Geoffrey had told him that he'd overheard the Order talking about how Harry had been in his mind. That darkness that would sometimes creep into his father's magic when he was enraged - Devlin had recognized it but thought perhaps it was just what darkness felt like. That his father had said he scar hurt when they were close. That his father had told him he couldn't promise who would win but he would make sure Voldemort was mortal.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Devlin said, "I was just thinking about all the clues there were that you had a piece of him inside you."

Harry looked troubled.