Patchwork Wishes

by DracaDelirus

AU Harry Potter's Holidays: Nine-year-old Harry has never had luck on his side, but maybe if he wishes very hard...

14. A Patchwork Egg: part 9

By the time afternoon recess arrived, the class was back to their normal healthy selves and Severus shooed them out with strict instructions that they were to go to the library, and nowhere but the library. Once there, they were to read quietly, so that the librarian would not have a cause to evict them.

Ah! Quiet… blessed quiet… thank Merlin! He was so glad they were gone, if even for a short time. Severus had no idea how parents handled it for year, after year, after year. He would go stark raving barmy. Recess should be much longer, maybe he should suggest Ms. Smythe write a memo to that effect for the Principal to sign... no better not… it was a bad idea. Ask no favours, have no debts.

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose to relieve the tension when he heard a small sound. As if someone were clearing his throat preparing to speak. It could only be… Potter. Thinking about who was at the other end of that tentative little sound made Severus' head throb more. Couldn't the child misbehave for once and leave him alone?

Severus slowly opened his eyes and confirmed his suspicion.

"Er… Mr. Nathraichean?"

"What is it Mister…'Krueger'?"

On his way to recess, Dudley had made a point of taking the long route to the door, so he could pass Harry's desk and heckle him by whispering in his ear: "Remember freak -Cha-ching!" Harry knew what that meant. Now that the teacher was no longer holding Dudley's toy for ransom – Harry was on his own to make the deal with Mr. Nathraichean.

"I… ah… I- I wanted to ask you something."

Severus glowered at him crossly.

Harry's mouth snapped shut, and he swallowed down the bitter bile that was creeping up his throat from his queasy tummy. He couldn't possibly ask him anything in that mood!

"One should not declare one's desire to raise a query, and then not do so - it is immensely aggravating."

"Oh, sorry Sir. It's just that you don't seem much like you want to be bothered with a question right now."

"And yet you are still talking. Therefore, you might as well ask your question and get it over with, so that I may return to my meditation."

"Right, sorry again. Well… the thing is that Dudley said that when you have lessons, you are supposed to pay the teacher… and well… I didn't mean to do it wrong but I didn't know that before… I do now, but you probably don't want it anyway."

"Was there a question in there?"

"Er… no?" Harry had to think hard to answer that one. He had been so stuffed full of the questions that he had wanted to ask, ever since the aborted duel, that he couldn't believe he hadn't burst before now for trying to hold them in.

Severus' glower deepened. "You are wasting my time. What did I tell you about that?"

"Not to do it."

"And why should you abstain from participating said irksome action?"

"Because, you have no respect for people who waste your time, so - so I guess that means you don't respect me," Harry answered quietly with his head hanging down.

Severus was about to start lecturing Harry for not standing up for himself, when he heard him ask in an even smaller voice, "Is that why you wouldn't do it Sir?"

"Why I wouldn't do what?"

"Sign it."

"Again, you mystify me child. What in blazes are you nattering on about now? Explain."

"The contract Dudley wrote up. You wouldn't sign it. Does that mean you aren't going to give me any more lessons?" There - he'd asked. He didn't really want to hear the answer if it was 'no' like he thought it was going to be, but he had to know for sure. If Mr. Nathraichean stopped helping him, it wouldn't matter if the egg was still alive or not, he might as well just give up. It was a good thing he'd kept packed.

Severus was speechless. Did the boy not possess even one shred of self-respect? "Child, do you understand why I wouldn't sign your cousin's contract?"

Harry nodded into his desktop, and blinked back a tear. He absolutely would not cry!

"I don't believe you do." Severus sighed. He never thought that he would be stuck in the position of having to comfort James Potter's offspring. If he ever got out of Little Whinging, he would never forgive Dumbledore for putting him there. He got up, moved over to squat down beside the boy's desk, and raised Harry's chin, but Harry still wouldn't meet his eyes. "In fact I am quite positive that you do not."

Harry finally looked up, and Severus knew he was right. There was only hurt in the child's eyes.

"The reason I did not agree to your cousin's terms had nothing to do with you."

"It didn't?" Harry asked with a spark of hope.

"No you silly child. I am quite satisfied with the agreement already in place. What your cousin was trying to do was completely self-serving, and illegal besides. Not only are both of you far too young to enter into a binding contract, but what he was offering, was 'you'. Do you not realize that? He was willing to forfeit your freedom, for a worthless toy. What's more he offered you to someone he didn't even know! He has no clue of what I might be capable, what kind of person I am, or what I might have done to you - should you have been forfeited as payment for services rendered."

"He thinks you're maniacal," Harry nodded wisely. "Just like our vocabulary word."

"Ah yes - today's lesson. Describe the word."

"Er… it's an adverb, meaning… er… meaning to be really good at playing the piano."

"No Mister…'Krueger' that is 'musical' - which I most definitely am not. Vis-à-vis the word 'maniacal', which is an adjective, means to have or show insanity, or in the current vernacular: to be stark raving barmy."

"Oh, that's bad…"

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of one of Severus' lips at the succinct definition, "All the more reason to not sign. You wouldn't have wanted to end up the property of a 'bad' man, would you?"

"I would have signed anyway. I trust you," Harry answered with complete faith.

"You shouldn't. I'm not the paternal type. I am bound to have made a shambles of it."

Harry shrugged indifferently, "You couldn't be any worse than the Dursley's, and that's where I'll end up again, if the lessons don't work and the egg doesn't hatch. Oh the egg! Is it all right? That was my other question."

To answer him, Severus abruptly rose and strode back to his desk. Unlocking his bottom drawer, he pulled out the nest box and placed it in front of Harry. "The egg will most likely hatch with the proper care."

Harry was so happy to see it he could scarcely breathe. Carefully taking it out of the nest, he traced the fine web of cracks across its shell. The pattern reminded him of the patchwork quilt Mrs. Figg had let him sleep under once when he stayed at her home. The quilt had made him feel so loved, just as the egg did now. Putting it to his cheek and could feel the little creature inside rumbling with happiness at being reunited. Jumping up he threw his arms around his teacher's waist.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Enough of that nonsense, it hardly took any effort at all. It means nothing." Severus said brusquely, as he gently pried himself loose of the enthusiastic hug. It was a curse to be such a child magnet.

"Maybe not to you Sir, but it means everything to me! I can't thank you enough. I know! My payment! Let me get it for you! Maybe you don't want it for the lessons but you must take it for saving the egg! Even doctors get paid! So I have to give you something! I just have too! Just a sec! I have it right here! It's brilliant!"

"Ah yes, the 'Priceless Work of Art'."

Pleased, Severus hid his amusement as Harry practically fell out of his seat as he dove between his legs to pull something out of his book bag under his chair. All the blood rushed to his head making him dizzy when he suddenly popped back upright clutching a riotous bouquet of construction paper flowers.

"I made most of them myself, I got up early and everything," Harry said proudly thrusting them in his teacher's hand.

"Just 'most'?" Mr. Nathraichean looked at him sideways and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Er yeah… Dudley helped."

"He did? Well consider me amazed."

"He let me have his because he'd used up all the black paper last night, and he thought if you liked any flowers at all you would like the dead looking ones the most."

Severus dangled one of the buds in question by its stem. All of the buds were the worse for wear, having been crammed in the well-packed book bag, along with everything Harry owned, but the black ones were particularly scraggly and malformed and seemed shaped like a claw.

"Interesting flora, what genus is it representing?"

"They're Easter lilies! I traced my hands for the petals! Well that one is one of Dudley's and he was trying to make them as ugly. But this is one of mine." Harry explained, plucking up a pastel pink one that had fallen on the ground. Flattening it out on his desktop and pressing his hand to the form, he showed how the paper echoed the shape of his fingers spread out. "See? Mrs. Krueger showed us how to make them. You just trace your hand on a piece of paper and cut it out, then you curl the fingers around a crayon or a pencil to make the petals, and the palm holds them all together! Neat huh?"

"'Neat' is not exactly the adjective I had in mind. However, it will do for the lack of one more suitable."

"You don't like them?" Harry asked apprehensively at the derisive tone in his teacher's voice. If he didn't, then he didn't have anything else with which to pay him! He hadn't considered that possibility.

"I did not say that Mister…'Krueger'. The bouquet is a most 'adequate' payment for my paltry services. I accept, thank you."

Harry grinned widely. Getting an 'adequate' out of Mr. Nathraichean was tantamount to receiving the highest of praise from anyone else. It didn't get any better than that!

"You know Sir…" Harry said slowly. "If you would unlock the craft closet, I could make a vase for them… I cross my heart I won't make a mess - and it would keep me busy and out of your hair while you meditate. Isn't that a good idea? Huh? Isn't it?"

"Don't wheedle. It doesn't become a student of Salazar." Severus chastised the beaming boy. It was truly nauseating. "You spill it, you clean it," he stipulated holding out the key.

"YAY! I'm still a student!" Harry shouted and grabbed the key out of his teacher's hand and ran to the craft closet to ransack it for supplies. On the way back, he mouthed a smaller 'yay' and made an exaggerated show of tiptoeing in silence when he saw Mr. Nathraichean rubbing the bridge of his nose, as he was already regretting acquiescing.

For the remainder of the recess period, Severus watched his student through slitted eyelids. With tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth and the egg nestled security in the crook of his arm, he reminded Severus so much of Lily. James had been a clumsy oaf, but Lily... his Lily was fascinating to watch. It was also fascinating to watch her son as he methodically covered a rescued milk carton, with tiny scraps of coloured paper.

Severus had to admit surprise that Potter had even found that much construction paper to work with, since he had used the bulk of it for a small bonfire one night when he was particularly annoyed at living in a damp dank alleyway. Watching the craft supplies go up in a burst flames had been quite heart-warming.

Harry had tugged opened the top of the carton so that it was square. Then he rinsed it out at the drinking fountain in the hallway. Though he was a bit disappointed that he hadn't been able to find a nice big sheet of black paper in the closet to cover it with, he made due with the few bits he found. He used the edge of the scissors to scrape as much wax off the outside as he could, so that the glue would stick. Then as he had more purple scraps than anything else, he applied those in a random pattern until the sides were all covered, and cut round circles out of the other colours and scattered them over the surface to cover up and gaps in the paper.

Lastly, he fluffed up the scrunched paper flowers until they looked almost as good as new, and arranged them in their new vase. He took special loving care of the three that Dudley had been mixed in at the last minute that were copies of his family member's hands. When he was done, he placed the finished bouquet on the corner of his teacher's desk. He was pleased with the effect. Only he had to smother a laugh when he realized that unconsciously he had made the vase look just like the egg with all of its patchwork of cracks and florescent polka-dots.

For both Harry and Severus, the bell signalling the return of the other students, rang far too soon. And although Severus still thought that making paper flowers was an excessively superfluous activity, and certainly not worth considering spending even one minute of valuable class time on, he begrudgingly did have to admit that they made a cheery little splash of colour on a cold dreary day.

An unexpected complication arose when the cheery splash drew the attention of all the little girls and they crowded around his desk to admire the flowers and clamoured for instructions on how to construct them. Severus was not pleased. Why was it whenever he did something 'nice' it invariably came back to bite him in the arse?

Ten little excited girls all clamouring to do Arts and Crafts versus one snarky Potions Master who would rather not. Severus sighed as one condemned, he knew there was really no contest - he was far too outnumbered to avoid it again. Although… it didn't mean that he couldn't lead an Arts and Crafts session his way – with no muss no fuss (aka no glitter no glue). Unfortunately, the little girls were bound to be disappointed with his methods. Ah well, too bad for them, as that couldn't be avoided either.

"Very well, if you will all return to your assigned seats, I will instruct you on the glories of the genus lilium."

"Ha-ha! Lillian ain't a genius, and she sure ain't glorious!" Dudley cackled and started all the rest of his gang laughing at the expense of one of their classmates.

Lillian, who sat one row over to the right and two seats in front of Harry, whirled around in her seat to face her tormenter. Pushing up her glasses with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she didn't look at all phased by the teasing. Twirling a lock of her red hair around her finger she shot back: "Maybe not, but I'm no Dursley dummy either!" Then Lillian stuck her tongue out at him, setting all the little girls to giggling when Dudley couldn't think of quick counter retort.

Harry grinned admiringly at Lillian, and pushed up his own glasses. Dudley picked on him a lot, but he never thought of a comeback as swiftly as she did.

"Children, you forget - I have seen ALL of your test scores. And that, as they say, is enough said on the matter of dismal digits." Severus snorted derisively at all of them as he strode to the front of the room where he started clearing off the blackboard so vigorously that the chalk dust created a voluminous cloud around him.

Harry snickered. His teacher was good at thinking on his feet too. Maybe if he ever got down the potential thing, he would see if Mr. Nathraichean would give him lessons on snappy put-downs. Next to Uncle Siri, he'd never seen anyone so expert at them.

"As I was saying, the genus lilium is one of the oldest known cultivated plants. You can find its description in records going back three thousand years. Can anyone tell me what other commonly used plants today, are related to the lily?"

The class was surprisingly quiet for nine-year-olds. The little girls were all busy wondering what the teacher's lecture had to do with scissors and paste. The little boys were all wondering why anyone cared to keep a stinky flower around that long.

"No one knows? How unexpected. Anyone care to venture a guess then?"

Katie slowly raised a hand at the prodding of Chloe and Daphne.

'Go on! Go on! Ask him!' they pressured her from both sides of the aisle.

"Yes, Miss Jones please do - 'go on'."

"Um… well what we want to know is when are we going to make our own flowers?"

"When each and every one of you becomes a world renowned botanist," Severus answered her with dead seriousness.

"But that will never happen!" Katie and her friends wailed as the writing on the wall became startlingly clear.

"Precisely my point, now that we've all agreed on that salient detail I believe we best get back to the noble pursuit of knowledge." Severus started writing a list of plants on the board. "There are over eighty varieties of the lily and its genus includes onions, garlic, yams, leeks and my personal favourite - asparagus."

"It figures he'd like asparagunk," Dudley whispered loudly to Piers. "I bet he's allergic to garlic – him being a vampire and all." All the children around him started to giggle, both at his comment and at him being clueless to his imminent predicament.

"You would lose that wager Mister Dursley," Mr. Nathraichean sneered from directly behind Dudley, having moved towards the boy while Dudley was busy not paying attention again. "You should not make assumptions about people of whom you have no acquaintance. It is a myth that vampires are sensitive to garlic. A lesson you will not soon forget after writing the phrase: 'Making assumptions will only make me an ass.' one hundred times on the blackboard, while I and your classmates resume our discussion."

Severus congratulated himself for his restraint, as his first reaction to the slur was to whip out his wand and transform the nasty little boy into a real ass. While he was not ignorant to the fact that the same rumour made the rounds at Hogwarts with every new class of first years, they at least had the good manners and respect to avoid voicing it within his hearing. Just because he preferred to wear all black, did not make him one of the undead, it just made him a coordinated dresser. Besides, it was practical - black didn't show potion stains.

Harry thought it curious how Mr. Nathraichean phrased that. Denying neither, the existence of vampires, or that he was one. It reminded him of when the class asked Uncle Remmy if he was a werewolf. Uncle Remmy didn't deny it either, and it turned out to be true. Harry gazed with new eyes at his mentor. Could his cousin be right? The teacher did kind of look like a big black bat at times, but Harry thought he looked more like one of ominous thunderclouds that had been filling the skies for the past week. He could easily imagine him zapping some unsuspecting target with a bolt of lightning.

"…the Lily and its relatives are cultivated primarily for ornamentation and cookery …"

Cookery… Dudley hated being hungry more than anything else he could think of besides someone laughing at him.

"…to everything there is a season - the lily is an example of this. It is a comprehensive demonstration of the cycle of life: birth, growth, death, and resurrection. This is why it is a symbol of this time of year…"

There was a time when his gang would have had his back, instead of snickering at his punishment. At the very least, they would have warned him the teacher was sneaking up on him! That they didn't this time made Dudley suspect that he was beginning to lose his place at the top of the pack. Up until this year, he had always been able to get the class and the teacher on his side, and now they all seemed to be on that of his cousin. Ever since he had had to move in with his Aunt Lily and Uncle James, everyone had been dumping on him more and more.

"…from an inert rocklike lump of matter buried in the earth, outwardly devoid life, to later burst forth as a delicate graceful bloom…"

Over his shoulder, Dudley eyed the vase of paper lilies on the corner of the teacher's desk. They had been all his idea and he doubted if the freak had given him any credit for helping to make them. Otherwise, why would the teacher rag on him over a little joke? It was as if he and his cousin had switched places in the hierarchy of the universe. Jealousy was a most uncomfortable feeling and tasted sour in his mouth.

"…during the Middle Ages, the miraculous yet natural changes observed in the lily, made it easy for the populace to also attribute unnatural powers to it. It was believed to be a charm which could protect the possessor against mischief makers and imps…"

Dudley wrote on the board as squeakily as he could so as too purposefully irritate the teacher. He bitterly doubted that he if he complained someone had picked on him when he got 'home' to his relatives, that anyone there would sympathize with him. Wishing his parents were back, he remembered the morning they had left on Holiday – he had yelled at them, that if they wouldn't drive him to school, then he didn't care if they came back or not. They told him that he shouldn't say things he didn't mean. Except that the truth was, he did mean it… then. Only now that he was starting to miss them for real, he was angry. He didn't think that they needed to stay away this long just to prove to him that they were right. They were his parents after all weren't they? They should have realized by now that he never learns his lesson. Geeze!

"…one commonly held belief was that just by breathing in the heady scent, one would become imbued with the power to thwart evil…"

The continual droning of his teacher's voice made Dudley grind the chalk into the board causing it to snap in two. Couldn't the man ever shuddit? Being such a git… now, THAT was evil! He had to do something to escape before he died of boredom.

"I gotta GO…NOW!" Dudley announced without fanfare, right as Severus was warming to the topic and on the verge of adding an intriguing element to his lecture: a discourse on how, if properly prepared, one could use various parts of the lily in potions.

Severus stopped to scrutinize the complainer: dancing back and forth on tiptoe, strained expression on his face, hands clenched in agony… "By all means Mister Dursley," he dismissed Dudley with a wave of his hand as the boy shot out the door.

Ten feet down the hall, Dudley skidded to a stop with a big grin on his face. He really didn't have to 'go' anywhere, ha-ha, except perhaps to overacting school. However, as long as he had nothing better to do he decided to go to the boy's loo anyway, he hadn't listened in on the Principal's office for days now. Making himself as comfortable as he could in the last stall, he listened with interest to the private conversation between Principal Speer and Ms. Smythe, coming faintly through the heating duct.

"…and then he took advantage of me!" came Ms. Smythe's high-pitched soprano.

Dudley rolled his eyes. Yuck! Girly stuff! The principal's assistant was just talking about her latest boyfriend.

"Advantage? Come now Ms. Smythe, the man isn't sociable enough to take advantage, that would require personal interaction and the man just isn't capable of it. In fact I had a letter arrive just this morning from the mother of one of his students who was complaining that she still hasn't persuaded him to meet with her for a parent-teacher conference… now where did I put it?..."

'Wait a minute…' Dudley craned his neck to catch every word over the sound of shuffling papers. 'Are they talking about a teacher? Hm… but which one, is the question.'

"Well, he took advantage of my good nature! Then he – he – he said he no longer needed my services! …" Ms. Smythe started to wail and Dudley could hear her blowing her nose. "… and then - then he dismissed me like I was a – a servant!"

"Now that's what I'm talking about! Not that I condone that type behaviour mind you, it was rather rude from the sound of it, it is just more in keeping with his priggishness."

"But I haven't even told you the worst yet!"

"There's more?"

Dudley's ears perked up. From the way that the Principal asked the question, he sounded fed up. Maybe he'd get some good dirt after all. Dudley hoisted himself up on the seat of the toilet so that he could hear better.

"Yes there's more. I checked his classroom thoroughly when I was there this morning…"

'Aha! This morning she was in my classroom! They're talking about Mr. Nathraichean!'

"… and there is not a single drawing pinned up!" Ms. Smythe crowed triumphantly.

"No children's drawings of colourful eggs?" The principal asked to clarify.

"Not even one of a plain brown one."

"Clay bunnies moulded by tiny hands drying on the windowsill?" he queried further, still unsure of what she was getting at.

"Nor any made by big hands either."

"Butterflies made of pipe cleaners and tissue paper hanging from the light fixtures?" Surely, she must have missed something, probably just forgot to look up.

"Not a flutter."

"Paper-mâché baskets?" Those are usually so messy the eye tends to block them out.

"Totally paper-less."

"Popsicle birdhouses covered with glitter?" That's the ticket – no one can resist glitter.

"Not a glimmer of one."

"Chicks and ducks made of egg cartons and pompoms glued together?" They are usually small and easily overlooked.

"The only sticky things in that room were the students."

"So, you are saying that Jeff Nathraichean's class has not completed an Easter project?"

"That's right, and Easter is just a few days away, so he is obviously not going to do one, even though you told him in no uncertain terms that he must. It is just shameful that's what it is." The immense satisfaction in Ms. Smythe's voice as she snitched on his teacher made Dudley laugh out loud.

… SPLASH! ...

"What was that?"

Dudley held his breath. Laughing so hard had made him lose his balance and his foot had slipped off the rim and into the bowl.

"I don't know. But whatever it was seems to have stopped…" Ms. Smythe's voice floated through the vent sounding doubtful and suspicious as the same time.

"I swear, sometimes I believe this office is haunted! Ah, finally! Here is that letter! Now that I found it again, I think I'd better address the situation immediately."

"Which situation is that - mine or yours?" Ms. Smythe was beginning to suspect that her tender feelings were about to be ignored for the second time in one day.

"I see no reason why it can't be both," Principal Speer said to appease his assistant, though he hadn't a clue what she was talking about. She had a situation as well? As far as he was concerned, the only situation at hand was a minor personnel matter regarding a Parent-Teacher meeting that needed held, nothing more.

Dudley could hear the scraping of chair legs moving. They must be standing up! He decided he'd better get back to class before the principal beat him to it. There was no way he was going to miss the principal yelling at his teacher! High tailing it down the hallway, he left a trail of water droplets behind him. When he opened the classroom door, the bizarre sight of his teacher tracing around his hand with chalk on the blackboard while all the little girls clapped delightedly, made him stop dead in his tracks.

"…and then, after you whinge incessantly until someone who is coordinated enough to correctly operate a pair of scissors cuts out the shape, you curl the paper fingers around a small hard cylindrical object such as a core of lead sheathed in wood - preferably one with the tip broken off so that you do not inadvertent poke your eye out… Ah, there you are Mister Dursley, welcome back. The class was beginning to speculate, that perhaps you had contracted an exotic malady and was in dire need of an ambulance. They were pressing me to send out a search and rescue team. Are you unwell?" Severus brushed the chalk dust off his fingers and scowled fiercely at the blond boy, making the otherwise solicitous question a challenge.

"Um… no, I'm good," Dudley said as he slid into his seat.

"That remains to be seen."

"Why's that?"

"Because you have not finished your assigned sentences, and as you elected to spend the majority of the afternoon allotment of class time elsewhere, you may be distressed to find yourself remaining after school once again. I do not believe the situation set well with you last time."

"But that's not fair!" Dudley clenched his fists and pounded his feet. "I'm hungry and if you make me stay after school I'll miss my snack again! And all I got for lunch was a ham and sardine sandwich and an - an appppple dipped in brown spicy mustard!"

"While your choice of condiments is distinctly anomalous, your culinary palate is not my dilemma." Severus held out a piece of chalk and nodded towards the front of the room.

Dudley's stomach rumbled loudly in response.

"Your dispute is duly noted," the teacher remarked dryly making all the children giggle.

Dudley glowered as he snatched the chalk and went back to writing on the board. Still, being a Dursley, Dudley didn't do anything, even unwillingly, unless he found a way to turn it to his advantage or at least have some fun with it. Too bad Dudley had forsaken legible penmanship in favour of scrawling the words just as fast as he possibly could, or his teacher might have learned something interesting. For in less than twenty lines, the sentence had morphed from - 'Making assumptions will make me an ass' into an expression of what he was currently wishing for - 'Maybe Auntie Lily will bake me a pie'.

Severus knew that Dudley wasn't writing what he had assigned him, as he counted an additional word that had snuck in. He debated about making the impudent child rewrite the sentences neatly, but as Dudley was accidentally doing more than required, he didn't press the point - as it would just condemn his self to afterschool duty to supervise him.

Although he was faintly curious as to what Dudley was really writing, and suspected it was a slam towards him (as it usually was with Dudley), upon further contemplation concluded that he didn't care to know - anymore than he cared to know why Dudley had returned to class with his left shoe and left pants leg dripping wet. The boy had clearly been up to something he shouldn't have been doing, but Severus had a foreboding feeling that he really didn't want the details.

His premonition confirmed correct when Principal Speer walked into the classroom as the final bell rang, and a smug know-it-all look bloomed on Dudley's not-quite-so-pudgy-since-he'd-been-on-the-Maurauder-healthy-diet-for-a-week face. If Severus had looked closer, he would have noticed Dudley's triumphant look faded with the last peal of the bell. Rats! The timing was not working in his favour. Now he had to choose between scribbling down the last dozen lines and following the class out the door, and writing as slow as he could so that he was still there to witness the principal yelling at his teacher.

Harry hesitated only a minute before he took the nest box out of his desk and shoved it deep into his book bag for safekeeping. On the way out of the room, he glanced guiltily over his shoulder at his cousin, who was now writing on the board with exaggerated slowness. He knew he was supposed to wait for Dudley, so that he wasn't walking home alone. Only he had no doubt that if the tables were turned, and he had to stay after school, that Dudley would leave without him in a heartbeat. Besides, the last time that Mr. Nathraichean had kept Dudley after school, he had made fun of him for saying that he had to wait for him to walk home.

'So… what harm could it do… just this once?'

The mass exodus of small bodies that were hurtling in the opposite direction nearly knocked Principal Speer over as he entered Jeff Nathraichean's classroom. He really couldn't blame the children, as to run screaming from the room was his own inclination whenever he had to address the grim unfriendly man. For the life of him, he could not remember why hiring him had seemed like such a wise idea – the one before him, with the sharp teeth and the hungry look in his eyes, was by far less intimidating.

"Oh there you are," the principal blustered. "I almost didn't see you for the mad dash."

"I hardly see myself as the madly dashing type either, so I will not hold you accountable." Severus replied offhandedly as he gazed over the portly man's head, preoccupied by the quickly disappearing back of one particular small boy.

'Where is he going? He is supposed to wait for his cousin. If that brat goes and gets himself killed by Death Eaters, Dumbledore will have my head,' Severus thought vexed.

"I didn't mean it that way. I meant that I came to find you."

"Congratulations. As you have successfully completed your task, I grant you my permission to leave now." Severus dismissed him, in a hurry to close up the room so he could follow Harry to make sure nothing permanently lethal befell him on the way home.

Dudley snorted quietly in amusement when the principal actually did start to leave, before turning back around very red faced and flustered.

"Your permission? My good man, I will not have you ordering me about! Let's get this straight - you are my employee, not the other way around!"

"Then what is it you want? As you can see…" Severus said with a curt sideways nod to indicate Dudley. "…I am busy."

"But you are always busy!"

"Then you should value me as an employee who does not waste your time, and leave me be to do my job. Mister Dursley there is no space in 'assumptions'. Write that line over." Severus snarled in his impatience to be rid of the both of them. Merlin only knew what trouble Potter would have found himself in by this time. He whole-heartedly agreed with Potter's keepers about that one thing - the boy needed constant supervision.

Dudley curled his lip in response as he erased the line with the sleeve of his jumper and then wrote it back in - identical to the original.

"Your job is the very thing about which I wanted to speak to you."

'Is he getting fired?' Dudley wondered hopefully. If he was, then he didn't really need to finish all these sentences…

"What aspect do you wish to discuss - the pitiful lack of acumen in Little Whinging's future generations, or this school's appalling shortage of red pens? Keep writing Mister Dursley, you are not done yet. I only count ninety-two."

"Um… neither! Look here man I am paying for your time and I want your undivided attention!" Principal Speer finally demanded.

"So does your assistant," Severus returned dryly.

At the other man's blank look at the quip, Severus sighed resigned and moved over the vase of paper Easter lilies so he could perch on the edge of his desk. He didn't want to invite the principal to sit down for fear of the man never leaving. Folding his arms, he fixed his coal black eyes on the principal in an effort to put an end to the dialogue as soon as possible.

"You have my attention for the time being. However, I must point out that as the clock has struck three o'clock, you are now on my time and as such, you cannot reasonably expect me to remain at your beck and call. I am not your servant, despite how it may seem – you don't pay nearly enough for that."

Jeff Nathraichean's inhospitable actions and the intensity of his gaze, not only made Principal Speer immediately regret his request, but it also reminded him of what his assistant had been harping on earlier - about the new substitute teacher openly flouting his authority by not leading his class in an Arts and Crafts project as he had directed. That was certainly not an acceptable situation, and he had believed it true as the new teacher was the most contrary person he had ever met other than Mrs. Speer. Yet right there on Jeff Nathraichean's desk, as if to mock him, was a definite sign of such a happening taking place – cheerful little paper lilies in colourful Easter hues, and on the front blackboard were written step-by-step instructions along with drawn illustrations.

He fondly recalled making a bouquet of paper Easter lilies for his own mum when he himself was but a school aged lad. The idyllic memories downplayed the need to set off another unpleasant scene (as one would undoubtedly ensue) by bringing up the request from Mrs. Krueger - it could wait... after all, it wasn't as if she was school board member.

As far as lack of an Arts and Crafts project, Principal Speer touted himself to be a keen judge of character, so he placed all blame for the current misunderstanding on his assistant. It was obvious to him that Ms. Smythe had misjudged the man entirely. "I see you have some Easter lilies there. Did your children make them?" he asked pleasantly.

"I have no children." Severus said succinctly in a low monotone that made a shiver run up Dudley's spine. It made Dudley wondered what had happened to his teacher's children. Probably something very nasty… maybe they had misbehaved and he had fed them to a monster like the one that lived in his Auntie Lily's pantry.

"I meant your classroom."

"I was unaware that inanimate buildings could make paper flowers." Severus raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"I meant - Did your student's make those for Arts and Crafts?" Principal Speer was becoming frustrated at how uncooperative the man was and mentally apologized to Ms. Smythe for doubting her judgment.

Dudley was quite impressed. It took him far longer to frustrate the principal.

"Why, yes they did." Severus replied smoothly giving the man the answer he wanted, although it was misleading. He felt justified that he was not lying as Potter did say that Dursley had made the black ones, and both were his students. In addition, Principal Speer didn't ask specifically where the Arts and Crafts had taken place. He was of the firm opinion that all Arts and Crafts should take place in the privacy of one's own home.

"Well that is fine then… I suppose." It took the principal aback. The answer was too quick, and too direct, coming from a man who had yet to answer him quickly and directly once, then never in words of one syllable. It made him not trust the answer.

"Is that all you wanted?"

"I believe I need confirmation." Principal Speer looked around and his eyes lit on the pudgy boy who was just writing the one hundredth sentence on the board. He knew the boy's parents, and that the entire lot of Dursley's would not hesitate to rat someone out.

"You there, boy, you're Vernon's son. Derby is it not?"

"No, it's Dudley. But everyone just calls me 'Big D'."

"Ah… well righty-o then Dustbin, which of these Easter lilies did you make?"

Principal Speer was certain that the boy hadn't made any of the flowers, as that was another thing that the Dursley's were well known for - a decided lack of creativity. When the child denied it, he would have ample grounds for firing Jeff Nathraichean. He made a mental note to have Ms. Smythe post an advertisement for a new substitute teacher first thing on the morrow.

Dudley had a hard time deciding between the fun of lying and getting his teacher into hot water, and taking credit for doing something of which he was secretly proud. Pride won out as it wasn't often he did anything to be proud of, whereas he was sure there would be lots of opportunities to get the teacher into trouble later.

"That's one of mine. See? It's the coolest because I made my hand look like the pantry monster before I traced around it," he said pointing at a misshapen blossom and then demonstrating what a pantry monster looked like by crossing his eyes, scrunching up his face, and pretending to scratch at the air with his hands clawed. To help complete the illustration Dudley's tummy let out a loud series of rumbling growls.

"A pantry monster? Ha-ha what a vivid imagination to be sure… ah… quite unusual... quite unusual."

"It's not imaginary! There's one in our panty. I know 'cause I've seen him and he tried to murder me last night!" Dudley exaggerated solemnly.

"How very melodramatic," Mr. Nathraichean commented dryly. "If you have seen this 'pantry monster', then you should be able to describe it in minute detail."

"Well… he was about twelve feet tall, and he had three glowing silver eyes, and I think he was purple… yeah definitely purple… with mouldy splotches... and he had fangs and claws and probably a knife too! And he was really hungry and if I hadn't have locked him in the pantry he would have eaten up everyone in the house!" Dudley's piggy eyes grew big and round as he thought about how terribly heroic he had been.

"Ah yes… the quintessential spotted purple people eater - they are not to be trifled with. As you are finished with the sentences, you should run along home and make sure you lock that pantry door tight. Once they get out, you never know where they might hide next. I hear they are partial to the nether regions under small boy's beds."

Mr. Nathraichean's lips curled into a slight sardonic smile when he said that, with just a hint of yellowish teeth showing. It was even scarier than the pantry monster.

Dudley didn't wait for a second invitation. Grabbing his rain slicker and wellingtons out of the classroom closet, he hopped out the door still putting them on his feet.

"If there is nothing else, I am really must be going." Severus all but pushed the principal out the door after Dudley, before he had a chance to say anything else.

"But I am not finished!"

"I am. Go away."

… click! ...

Principal Speer sputtered as the teacher shut the door in his face and then locked it. When he rapped firmly on the frosted plane of glass, the letter from Mrs. Krueger clutched in his hand, the lights in the classroom beyond flicked out. "Open up!" he yelled rattling the doorknob to no avail. "Confound you man! Open I say!"

"What seems to be the problem?" a musical voice asked behind him.

Turning on his heel, the principal came face-to-face with his worst nightmare… a mother who had requested he do something that he was responsible for doing… and that he had not done. He did so detest being on the spot like this, and by one of his former employees no less. It was just too bad he had already fired her for deciding to have a baby in the middle of a school year, or he would fire her again for aggravating him.

"Why nothing… nothing at all. And how are you this afternoon Rose?"

"I'm fine, just a little late for my appointment is all - had to wait for the babysitter to wake up. I came to talk with Mr. Nathraichean, as I wrote you that I wanted to do, and then to walk the boys home. Dudley ran past me on my way in, shouting something about the pantry, but Harry wasn't with him. Is he waiting in the classroom with his teacher?"

"I didn't see any children in there, other than young Dursley. And I do believe that Jeff Nathraichean is now… unavailable," he replied with a glance over his shoulder at the locked door. He thought there was something decidedly odd about a man skulking in a dark classroom alone and pretending not to be there – very childish in his opinion.

"But I asked you to have him wait for me!"

"It can't be helped. Jeff Nathraichean is… ah… a very…very…busy man, as am I. In fact, I am appalled, utterly appalled that you expect him to be at everyone's beck and call. Especially when you are…" Principal Speer glanced down at his wristwatch, "tsk tsk … and entire six and a half minutes late."

"Six minutes is not that late!"

"...and a half." He shook his head in a disapproving way that made his jowls jiggle back and forth. "It is not as if he is a servant or something god-awful like that. Now I must be leaving too, so good day to you Ma'am."

Lily had a few alternate choice words of just what she thought Jeff Nathraichean was, but there was no point in shouting them after the departing principal, it wouldn't get her any closer to the coveted audience. Frustrated in her continual failed attempts, and more that a bit worried about where her son might be and what her nephew might be up to in the pantry, she left for home.

Dudley beat her by a good ten minutes as he ran the entire way even though he had no one to chase today. Flinging open the door to the flat, he dashed through the living room on his way into the kitchen, hurtling over Sirius who was lying on the rug playing 'put-anything-you-can-reach-in-your-mouth' with Holly - all without breaking his stride.

"Hey Dudster, those are some flying feet you have! Have you thought of trying out for soccer?" Sirius asked Dudley after scooping up Holly and following the boy into the next room to find him sitting on the floor, next to a chair he had propped under the pantry doorknob.

Dudley just gave him a withering glare as he was panting too heavily to talk, but not enough to drown out the scratching and moaning coming from the basement flat. The effects of the full moon were already prevalent on their resident werewolf.

"No? Okay self-development suggestions aside for a sec, do you mind me asking why the rush? And just where is kiddo? Lily told me she was going to pick you both up from school, is he with her?"

"If - (huff huff) - if you mean the dork I - (huff) - I don't know and I - (huff) - don't care."

"Harry's not a dork," Sirius corrected him.

"If he - (huff) - he's not a dork…then how - (huff huff) - how did you know who - (huff) - who I was talking about?"

"Er… process of elimination? He's the only unaccounted for member of this family. Now, where did you lose him? Did you leave him tied to a tree somewhere? Or did your gang stuff him in a trash can?"

"Ha-ha! That sounds like fun! Thanks for the idea! But no - (huff) - I had to stay after school and he took off without me when the bell rang. Should a' been here already."

"Well he isn't," Sirius said worriedly while he mentally slapped himself for giving Dudley new ideas about how to torture his godson.

"As Mr. Nathraichean says... (huff) ...that's not my lemon."

"Dudster! Not you too!"

"Me too what?"

"You too quoting that stick-in-the-mud teacher - that's what. You're supposed to be quoting me and Moony."

"But you never say anything cool."

Six little words were all it took to deflate Sirius' pride and momentarily distract him from the puzzle of his godson's whereabouts. "I don't? Never?"

"Nah… if I went around quoting you - my pals would think I was thirty years old!"

"Thirty? That old?"

"Practically geriatric."

Sirius frowned, of all words for Dudley to get right - why did it have to be that one.

"Here then…" he dangled the giggling Holly over Dudley lap and dropped her into it "…we geriatrics need to take our walks to keep limber. You take care of the rug-rat and I'll go find kiddo. By the way… she needs changed."

"But…!" Dudley sputtered but it was too late – Sirius was already out the front door and Holly had soaked Dudley's lap. He had to admit though - for an old guy, Uncle Siri could sure move fast, especially when a wet nappie was involved.

'…goo...ga… doodoo?' Holly cooed, taking fast hold of the front of Dudley's jumper with her tiny Velcro fingers.

"Don't you dare!" Dudley yelped holding her at arm's length.

Hitting the pavement on all fours, Padfoot took off towards the school before doing an abrupt one eighty practically in mid-air to head in the opposite direction. If Harry had been loitering anywhere between the school and the flat, Dudley wouldn't have been able to resist chasing him the rest of the way home. That meant he had to have gone past the building, and the only other place he knew of where Harry like go was the park.

Sure enough, as he galloped through the entrance Padfoot caught a faint trace of Harry's scent in the rain damp air. He also caught scent of something else - something indisputably nasty. There was only one thing he knew that smelled like that... he just couldn't remember what it was. He was sure of one thing though - someone else had recently been in the park with his pup!

Being uncharacteristically cautious, Padfoot skidded to a stop and ducked behind a shrub just inside the park's chain link fence. From this vantage point, he could survey the entire lot unseen. Other than the steady drum of the rain on the play equipment, nothing moved.

He didn't get it... where was the danger? More importantly... where was Harry?

Padfoot had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn't caused by wolfing down the questionable tidbit he had scavenged out of a tipped over trash bin on his way to the park. The last thing he wanted to do was to tell Prongs that his Prongslet went missing on his watch. Prongs would have a hex fest and he wouldn't be able to do to defend himself without a wand.

It was at times like this that his anger over not having his own wand tended to get the best of his normally playful nature and he barred his teeth in a dangerous growl at the gloomy day around him. Come to think of it - why hadn't his so-called friends figured out a way to get him one yet? If he'd had a wand, he could have activated a locator spell to find Harry, but without one... how did they expect him to do anything? He couldn't protect a wet dishrag, let alone the kids! Did they think he had superpowers or something? What were they thinking? For that matter, what was he thinking? Perhaps he didn't have a super power but he did have a super sniffer...

Putting his massive black nose in the air, he inhaled deeply.

The rain had diluted all but the newest of the smells, so he was sure that whoever had been visiting the park had not been gone for long. Sniffing again, he was almost as sure that Harry's fresh little boy scent seemed oh so slightly newer than the musty stank of the malevolent phantom that hung heavy in the clammy air.

That minute difference gave him the sliver of hope he needed to keep searching.

Padfoot sniffed once more to make certain he couldn't detect anyone in the immediate vicinity and then put nose to the ground and started to track Harry's scent. He followed it in a meandering route around the park, first to one swing and then to another. After circling the merry-go-round twice and taking a loop under the monkey bars, the trail led towards the squat brick structure in the far corner of the park, which housed the public restrooms. The nearer he got to the building, the stronger Harry's scent grew.

Optimistic that not all was lost, Padfoot quit sniffing and started loping the building at full speed. Poking the door ajar with his nose, he peered into the cavern beyond. There were a lot of interesting smells in there, which the canine in him longed to investigate, but none of them belonged to his pup. Where did he lose the scent?

Padfoot backed out of the building, which was not exactly an easy feat for a dog built only for going forward. His irritation made him all that more impatient with himself for having to retrace his steps. Back at the last spot where he was positive he had the scent, he started sniffing around in increasing concentric circles until he picked back up the trail. On track once again, Padfoot forced himself to keep his nose glued to the ground until he had followed it out the far side of the park and into a small drainage tunnel where it bumped into the toes of a pair of very tatty trainers.

'Woof! Woof! Woof!' YAY! He'd found his pup! YAY! 'Woof! Woof! Woof!'

Pure relief at finding Harry flooded through Padfoot's veins, mixed with the adrenaline already there, and then exploded into an uncontrollable licking fest.

"Cosmos! Stop! Stop! ...ha-ha-ha... Stop! Please... ha-ha... Stop! That hurts!" Padfoot immediately changed back into his human form, pulled Harry out of the tunnel by his ankles, and immediately started checking his limbs for miscellaneous bodily damage.

"Where does it hurt? Why did you come to the park by yourself? I know you know better than that - something could have happened to you and no one would have been here to protect you! What the heck got into you? Did you forget what your dad told you? Did someone scare you? Did anyone try to touch you? Don't you know you frightened your little sister to death? What did Dudley mean when he said I wasn't cool?"

"What?" Harry asked, puzzled by the barrage of questions, especially the last one.

"I mean... Merlin, Harry! You about gave me a heart attack and I am far too young for one of those! Why didn't you come straight home after school?"

"I'm sorry Uncle Siri I was just..."

"I don't want to hear 'sorry'! I want to know what you were thinking!" Sirius barked out. He had no idea where that came from. It sounded like something his own father would have said to him - in fact, it was something his own father had said... more than once.

"I don't know..." Harry wasn't exactly lying. He really didn't know what to think about what had just happened. He had been following a man with silver white hair when his teacher suddenly grabbed him from behind, dragged him out of the park, and shoved him into the tunnel. He had no idea who the man was, or why Mr. Nathraichean had done that.

"That does it young man! March! We're going home, and you better have it figured out before we get there – so think fast!" Sirius was fuming. The left over adrenaline was making him react like the responsible adult he normally wasn't, rather than as the fun pal that he preferred to be. He didn't like it one bit – it was a most uncomfortable feeling!

If Harry thought Uncle Siri was upset, it was nothing compared to his mum's reaction when Sirius dragged him in the front door.

"Where were you Harry? Dudley told me that you ran away! I've been sick with worry!" Lily plopped a clean sleepy Holly in Sirius' arms with orders to put her down for a nap and then pulled Harry to her bosom in a tight hug as if she would never let him go.

"…()…" Harry squished explanation came out a muffled jumble of incoherent syllables, "… (errrrrrcnnntbreeeee!)…"

"What sweetie?"

"I think he said he couldn't breathe." On his way into Lily's bedroom to put Holly in her crib, Sirius helpfully supplied the translation. Although he was not feeling particularly sympathetic towards Harry at the moment, he didn't want him to smother before he had a chance to pay him back with a brilliant prank for scaring several years off his life.

"Oh Harry!" Lily loosened her hold enough that he could gasp some air into his lungs and started scolding him. "Why did you run away? Did Dudley pick on you again?"

"Ha! As if I'd bother!" Dudley snorted his comment from the couch where he was thumbing through one of his favourite comics rather than doing his maths homework.

"No, Ma'am I didn't run away... I was just..."

"Then for Merlin's sake why didn't you wait for me?" For the past hour Lily had been imagining Harry hurt and lying in a ditch somewhere lost, and now hearing him call her 'Ma'am' again instead of 'Mummy' was just one stressor too many and made her question him in a brusquer tone than she had intended to use.

Harry hung his head. First, his teacher yelled at him for being in the park, then Uncle Siri for hiding, and now Mrs. Krueger! How much worse could it get? All he'd tried to do was exactly what Mr. Krueger had told him to do - watch out for strangers. In his opinion, the one he'd seen loitering outside their building was very strange.

"Mr. Nathraichean told me to leave."

"No he didn't. He was too busy snarking at me." Dudley countered.

"He would have if I'd stayed!"

"But you didn't, and he didn't!" Dudley crowed back, delighted to rat on his cousin.

"Harry, when you do something wrong, please don't lie to me about it. If you own up to your mistakes, I promise I will do my best to understand and not judge. It's easier on both of us. You shouldn't have left by yourself. I know it can be hard following rules you don't understand, but we've told you it isn't safe for you to be alone, and we meant it."

"I'm not a baby," he replied thrusting out his chin and looking very much like his father.

He was feeling defensive - he had come straight home... kind of. It was just that as he got to the corner, he'd seen a suspicious man loitering across the street from their building. The man was pretending to read a paper, but was watching their flat over the top of the page. From the way he kept checking his pocket watch, he looked as if he were becoming impatient. Harry was very distrustful of impatient people. They tended to not like him. They had told him that Death Eaters could be looking for them, and it would be very bad for their family if they found them. This man had an unpleasant look on his face and Harry could quite imagine him biting the heads off from people.

As the man started to turn his way, Harry quickly dove behind a derelict car at the curb. After a few minutes, he peeped over the hood to check on what the man was doing, only to see him hurrying up the pavement in the opposite direction, his long black cloak fluttering behind him. The newspaper had disappeared and in its place was a silver-topped cane. He must have gotten tired of waiting for whatever or whomever he had been waiting for.

Harry knew he was strange because people dressed as the man was should not be in his neighbourhood! Harry knew this without a doubt, because whenever they had seen anyone similarly dressed in the past, his Uncle Vernon would point at them and announce with absolute authority that they didn't belong in Little Whinging. Harry also thought that he remembered seeing the same man when Cosmos had taken him to Gringotts. He hadn't gotten a good look at the man's face that night, but he remembered the light glinting off the top of his cane, and the long silver white hair was unmistakable. The man had been mean to the strange little big-eared creature with him, and something about seeing him so close to where his mum and little sister were, made Harry uneasy.

The man was walking at a steady clip when a cat, that looked remarkably like Tibbles (one of Mrs. Figg's furry companions), streaked in front of him. The man whipped out his cane, neatly caught it under the front legs, and tossed it out of his path. The surprised cat landed on its feet, took one look at the man, and streaked towards Wisteria Walk as if an entire pack of rabid dogs was chasing it. This was not good! Mrs. Figg's cats were a great judge of character.

The safety of his family was forefront in his mind when he decided that he'd better find out what the man was doing there. He also felt that if he took the time to alert anyone, he would miss seeing where he went. It turned out he didn't find out anyway, but if he'd know in advance that would be the outcome, he wouldn't have gone to begin with.

As it was, he followed the man to the play park, which was as far as they allowed him to go without an adult, when his path crossed with that of his teacher. His teacher seemed unappreciative of the fact that both Harry and the man, were in the park. He had shoved Harry in the pipe and told him to stay there while he talked to the man. While Harry had been glad enough to turn the mystery over to an adult, it still annoyed him. Because in the end, all he was trying to do was to protect his family to the best of his ability, but all he succeeded in doing was making people mad. Why couldn't he do just one thing right?

Lily looked her little boy in the eyes. No, he wasn't a baby. It showed in his eyes - they were far to grownup for the rest of his body. It saddened her that his childhood had died in Godric's Hollow when Voldemort had attacked. He had never had the chance to be a carefree little boy. Lily glanced over at her nephew enjoying his comic book and being exactly what he should be: a nine-year-old boy. Then she looked back to her son, who looked as if he was carrying the weight of the ages on his shoulders.

"Oh why can't you be more like Dudley?" Lily regretted her choice of words the moment they started tumbling out of her mouth, but it was too late - the look of betrayal was already in Harry's eyes.

"I… I'm sorry I'm disappointing you!"

"No Harry! That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean?" he asked in a hurt tone.

"What else you dork? That I'm the good one and you're a..." Dudley started to butt in from the sidelines.

"Dudley! Hush!" Lily whirled on her nephew to cut him off.

"Harry, you're really not dis…" Lily turned back just in time to see Harry slamming his bedroom door so solidly behind him he might as well have posted a 'Keep Out – and this means you Mum!' sign on the outside. The rest of the apology died on her lips, as frustration took its place.

"Don't you slam your door in my face young man!" Lily rattled the doorknob. Only in her anxiety, she pulled instead of pushed so it didn't open. She assumed Harry had locked the door on her in his anger.

"You…you're grounded! Do you hear me Harry?" she shouted through the closed door. "Grounded! That means its early bedtime for you for - for a week! And no dinner tonight until you can come out and behave like a good boy!"

"Then I'll never come out!" Harry shouted back.

"You blew that big time," Sirius observed raising his eyebrows at her as the echoing reverberations dug a deep chasm between Harry's stronghold and his shocked mum. He had come back into the room after tucking Holly into her crib, just in time to hear Lily put her foot in her mouth. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was secretly glad to find out he wasn't the only one with that flexible agility.

"I'm a horrible mother! I don't deserve children!" Lily sobbed, running in the opposite direction and slamming the bathroom door behind her just as loudly as Harry had slammed his.

"Well, well, well..." Sirius stood alone in the middle of the room for a few minutes and then noticed Dudley hiding behind his comic and trying hard to be unnoticed. "It looks like it just you and me Dudster," he announced with a gleam in his eyes.

Dudley groaned loudly in protest.

Sirius chose to ignore it.

"All that to-do made me hungry. What say we start some dinner?"

"You mean you want me to help you… cook?" Dudley squeaked in shock and looked around wildly for somewhere to escape to that didn't already have someone in it.

Unfortunately, even expanded, the flat didn't have that many rooms. His only choices were up, out, or into the kitchen, and by the grin on Uncle Siri's face he knew he wasn't about to let him choose either of the first two. He sighed resignedly and stood up. He knew that look. He might as well get it over with, "Okay… but no eggs."

"No eggs? But they're so entertaining!"

"Definitely - no eggs." Dudley asserted firmly as he followed him through the door.

The pair was still in the kitchen preparing dinner when James got home from work, or rather - Sirius was preparing dinner while Dudley sat at the scrubbed wood table telling him everything he was doing wrong.

"See! Now it's boiling over. I told you to use the pot and not the skillet."

"Okay so maybe you had a point with that one, but I still say you can never have enough garlic - keeps the vampires away." Sirius tasted the chilli thoughtfully that was boiling merrily on the burner. He tossed in another diced clove.

"Where is everyone?" James asked as he mentally made a note to take some antacid before dinner.

"Auntie Lily is crying in the bathroom, the stinkpot is dirtying her nappy somewhere, the dork is pouting about being grounded, and Uncle Remmy is still holed up downstairs hogging all the good food." Dudley listed accommodatingly.

"Don't call your cousins names, and why is your Aunt crying? Did something happen?"

"Nothing really… she just seems a might touchy," Sirius hedged. He still wasn't sure how James was going to feel when he found out he had temporary misplaced his son.

"Oh great that's all I need to round out the day. First, a whacked out customer in the shop, and now I come home to a whacked out wife. Can life get any better?" He ran his hand through his hair while estimating how long he could put off trying to deal with it.

"Um… if you don't want it to go downhill from here, I would avoid using the term 'whacked out' to Lils," Sirius advised using air quotes to emphasize.

"Right-o. So why is Harry grounded?"

"He yelled at Auntie Lily and slammed the door in her face!" Dudley gleefully supplied and then filled in with exaggerated details.

"Harry did all that? My Harry? Are you sure we're talking about the same boy?"

"The one and only," confirmed Sirius.

James sighed. He was positive he had at least four years left before he had to worry about teenage angst. It was tougher being a father than he remembered.

"And that's something you consider falls into the category of 'nothing really'?" Much to James frustration, Sirius just shrugged offering up a 'boys will be boys' explanation.

"I better talk with Lily first," he decided out loud. That way he'd know what he was up against when he went to talk with Harry, and wouldn't inadvertently contradict anything Lily might have said earlier.

"Good move," Sirius agreed giving his blessing as he stirred in a few more jalapenos.

"Thanks… I think." James wondered what else his friend wasn't telling him as he went to tap tentatively on the bathroom door, behind which he could hear Lily still sobbing.

"Lily? Honey? Can I come in?"

In answer, the door swung open and a tearful Lily fell into his arms. He swept her up and carried her to the big comfy chair to cuddle.

"Oh James! I am a horrible mother! You should divorce me!"

"No way are you getting off that easy. Besides, you're not a horrible mother. At least not from where I sit," James declared. "I think you're a great mother. Of course I could be slightly partial since it's my children's mother were talking about. Now why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"My baby hates me…"

"No she doesn't. Holly loves you."

"My other baby…"

"Who? Little no-name here?" James teased patting her still very flat tummy. "Causing trouble already is he?"

"No, not her," Lily gave a weak laugh at his obvious preference. "You know who I'm talking about... our first born. The one I can't get through to."

"Harry? He loves you too."

"I'm not so sure about that James…"

"Why don't you think so?"

"He... he... called me 'Ma'am' again!" Lily choked out as a tear rolled down her cheek. "It's better than Mrs. Krueger, but... Ma'am? It's as if I were a... a total stranger!"

"And what did you do?" James asked brushing the tear away with a gentle kiss.

"I said I wished he was like Dudley."

"Well that is being horrible."

"James!"

"What? I thought you wanted me to agree with you!"

"Not about that! I didn't mean it the way it came out at all! I just meant that I wished he'd be… oh, I don't know - less of a forty-year-old grownup and more of a nine-year-old child. I just want him to be my baby again and to need me to be his mummy, instead of acting older than I am."

"So what can I do to help?"

"I… I want you to tell me that it will be all right."

"It'll be all right," he repeated rubbing calming circles on her back.

"And I want you to tell me that we didn't wake up too late, and we'll get our baby back."

"I promise we'll get him back."

"Really?"

"Really."

"When?"

"Er…soon?"

"How soon?"

"Er…" James was starting to feel very much on the spot, "I don't know… maybe in a day or two? ...or three? Four on the outside. Definitely no more than a week."

"What about tonight?"

"Er... I don't know if I can promise tonight... why?"

"Harry's locked himself in his room. It's my fault. Now you have to make him open it."

"I do? Are you sure? Is that another rule in one of those parenting pamphlets the counsellor gave us that I didn't read?"

"I have no idea, I didn't read them either. Nonetheless, I'm sure. He won't open it for me and he has to eat. I don't want him to go to bed hungry."

"See? I was right. A horrible mother wouldn't care about a little thing like that."

"No she wouldn't… would she?" Lily sniffled and blew her nose into a hanky James produced from his pocket.

"Definitely not. A horrible mother would probably eat his dinner and let him starve."

"Yes she would, pudding included." Lily agreed dabbing away her tears with a dry corner, a wistful smile finally playing on her lips. "Will you go talk with him Jimmy? I- I don't think I'm very welcome right now… besides, I hear Holly waking up."

"Of course I will Rosie-Posy. You go take care of our daughter, and I will take care of our son. His and hers! Divide and conquer!"

"You make it sound as if we're going to war."

"Don't kid yourself my love - we are." James pushed her off from his lap with a chuckle.

...Knock! Knock! ... James rapped authoritatively on Harry's bedroom door.

"Who's there?" a tearful voice answered.

"Your father," James tried not to sound so impatient from the get go, but really...

"My father who…?" Surprised anyone was still claiming him, he didn't finish the thought.

"This is not a joking matter young man! Unlock your door right now!" James pulled out his wand and aimed it at the door. It was his own home and he did not intend to resort to going through the window, as had Moony and Padfoot. "You have until the count of ten and you won't want to know what happens if I get to ten!"

"One!"

'When did I start sounding just like Sirius' father?' James wondered ruefully. His own father and mother had had him late in their lives and doted on him - with a few rare exceptions when he did something so outlandish that they felt compelled to call him on it for the sake of public safety. Sirius' parents were another matter. Orion Black was always counting to ten with veiled threats of indescribable terrors descending upon their tender young heads if he completed the task before Sirius and his friends caved in. James had vowed that if he ever became a father himself he would never do that to his children. Yet here he was... counting...

"Two!"

'This had better work…'

"Three!"

...or I'll never hear the end of it…'

"Four!"

'I can hear them laughing at me now…'

"Five!"

'When we were boys - we always gave in by five...'

"Six!"

'We never wanted to find out what would happen if Sirius' father got to ten...'

"Seven!"

'... ten? That's a laugh! He started cursing at six and never stopped till sundown!'

"Eight!"

'C'mon son…open!… … … … …pretty please for your old man?'

"Nine!"

'He had to have gotten his stubborn streak from his mother… sure didn't get it from me.'

"Ten!"

…turn… swing… 'Wait a minute – the knob turned? I didn't hear him unlock it!'

"Harry? Why did you lock me out?" James stepped in and his eyes swept the room. He spotted Harry sitting in the farthest corner from the door on the floor, back to the wall, with his book bag on his lap, hugging it for all he was worth. He looked small and forlorn, as if he hadn't a friend in the world. James wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to find after hearing he had been acting up, but this wasn't it.

Harry pulled off his glasses and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It wasn't locked. You never put one on the door so I could."

"Oh…" James looked back at the door and realized it was true "… so I didn't. Well that was smart of me."

Harry took that as an acknowledgement that wasn't to be trusted, while James only meant that he was the idiot for not remembering to do it after he'd promised. From the fleeting look that crossed his son's face, James knew he'd just said something wrong but he couldn't fathom what it might have been so he went over and sat down on the floor next to him. Leaning back against the wall he got as comfortable as he could knowing that Harry was not going to be as easy to cheer up as had been Lily.

"So… what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Just hanging out then?"

Harry shrugged.

"Have a good day at school?"

Another shrug.

"Do anything fun?"

"Not really."

"Is your teacher still giving you problems?"

"He's okay."

"Glad to hear it."

Well that went nowhere. Harry was being tougher than usual. James was stymied. He was tired after a long day at work and had been looking forward to coming home and relaxing. The last thing he wanted was to deliver a lecture, or to engage in a battle of wills. He looked around to find something to spark the start of a conversation.

"Got a book bag there I see..."

"It's mine." Harry hugged it tighter to his chest keep it out of reach. Normally whenever anyone showed interest in something he had, it was because they wanted to take it away from him. The egg was in his book bag and he wasn't about to give up his only chance to keep his family - whether they regretted giving him that chance or not.

"So it is… um… got anything good inside it? Can I take a look?" James asked trying to figure out something to say to break the ice. He got just the opposite effect.

"It's mine too." Harry hugged his bag even harder.

"Whoa! Hold on there a sec champ, I wasn't saying it wasn't!" James berated himself mentally - maybe he really should have read some of those parenting pamphlets, as he just seemed to be making matters worse with everything he said. Only he'd promised Lily to get Harry out of his room for dinner so he wasn't going to give up.

Harry was puzzled. Mr. Krueger was bigger than he was - if he'd wanted to take the egg back he could have easy. He hadn't really even tried hard! All he'd done was to come in and start chatting as if he'd done nothing wrong. That was something he really wasn't use to happening. Maybe he was trying to trick him.

After the way he'd acted up earlier, he had been expecting a week's confinement, breakfast rations only, and a few wallops to his backside to teach him a lesson. That would have been his minimum sentence at Privet Drive. Mr. Krueger was in much better shape than Uncle Vernon was – it would probably sting harder. Thinking about how sore his bum would be when it was over, Harry pressed himself further into the corner.

"Oh? Am I crowding you? Here let me take care of that." James had noticed the slight increase in distance that Harry had put between them, and edged over to reclose the gap. Now they were sitting thigh to thigh with Harry squished into the corner with nowhere else to move. The only way James could have gotten any closer would have been to pull Harry onto his lap. Except that Harry's body language was giving him the suspicion that it would be an extremely bad move on his part. "There – isn't that cosier?"

Harry nervously rubbed the toes of his trainers together.

"Um… nice shoes champ."

Harry's feet suddenly went very still so as not to draw any more attention to them.

"Going in for the new 'grunge' look, are you?"

"The what?" Harry knew his trainers looked tatty, and his hair was just as messy as ever, but he didn't think that the rest of him looked grungy. He'd been taking regular baths and had been taking very good care of all the new clothes the Kruegers had bought him. He hoped if he did a good enough job of it, that they might think it wouldn't be too big a waste of money to buy him the new pair of shoes they had promised.

"You know… duct taped shoes, safety pins, chains, rips, punk, heavy metal… rock-n-roll?" James grinned at him, trying to pull Harry into the lop-sided conversation.

"If you say so." Harry agreed doubtfully.

He hated it when people laughed at his trainers, and it now sounded as though Mr. Krueger thought the ones he had on were good enough to keep wearing indefinitely. Maybe Mr. Nathraichean would hire him to stay after school and clean the classroom. If he would, then he could buy his own shoes.

"Hey! I got a great idea! If you're interested in music, maybe we could go to a concert together. Would you like that?"

"Er... no thanks Sir." There was no way was he going to be tricked like that into voluntarily being embarrassed in public again!

"Are you sure? It'd be a lot of fun!" James coaxed.

"Please don't make me..." Harry whispered fearfully as if it would be pure torture, for in his experience things like that was only fun for everyone else - not for him.

The last time anyone invited him to go somewhere similar it had been the Dursleys doing the inviting. Their idea of going somewhere 'together' was to buy advance premium tickets for themselves and Dudley in the front row, and him the cheapest single ticket they could buy from a ticket scalper in front of the theatre. His relatives said that they hadn't bought him one earlier as they had intended to leave him with Mrs. Figg, only problem was that they had forgotten to arrange that with her. When they had tried to drop him off and found her inconveniently away, they were forced to invite him along.

Come to think of it - 'invited' probably wasn't the best description. When Mrs. Figg failed to answer either her front or back door, they had reluctantly given him the 'choice' of either staying home alone or going with them. Much to their dismay, he opted for going. However it came about, there he was with a ticket of his very own to a show in his hand!

He had been so excited until Uncle Vernon told him that to 'pay them back' for his unexpected added expense, they expected him to watch for them to signal him from their extra wide plushy seats with the built-in cup holders. When they did, Uncle Vernon expect him to run down four flights of stairs from the nosebleed section, crawl down the aisle (so as not to block anyone's view), find out what they wanted, crawl back up the aisle then stand in line at the snack bar to fill their order. He was to then take their treats back to them, serve them without spilling anything, wait while Uncle Vernon verified he had turned over all the change, and then run back up the four flights to his own seat.

The curtain hadn't even gone up when Harry saw Uncle Vernon snapping his fingers in the air the first time. He did all he had been asked to, just in time to do it all over again for Aunt Petunia. As he never got to sit down and enjoy the show, he supposed it didn't matter that the seat they had purchased for him was behind a pillar and someone had spilled something sticky all over it. The only unsticky spot to perch was the front edge.

The worst part of it wasn't the uncomfortable seat, or even the running to his relatives' beck and call throughout the show, it was that several of his classmates witnessed it. He still hadn't lived it down and quite often in the lunchroom, one of Dudley's gang would snap his fingers at him and everyone would burst out laughing. It was humiliating.

James was miffed at how quickly Harry turned down his offer - why he had hardly even thought about it! What kid wouldn't like going to see a rock band even if it was with their old man? He could be loads of fun - just ask Padfoot or Moony! They had raised a few roofs in their day. He could see them coming home with matching father and son headbands, t-shirts, and maybe even matching pierced eyebrows! He'd always fancied one of those. Although… if he put a hole in Harry's head Lily would have his on a platter.

Fine, if Harry didn't want James to be his pal, then James would just have to resort to being his father. He supposed it was time to get it over with as he was getting hungry.

"So… I hear you slammed the door and yelled at your mum."

Harry braced himself. This was it - Mr. Krueger's real reason for coming in. He'd been sitting in his room all afternoon regretting his temper tantrum and dreading the outcome.

"That wasn't a respectful thing to do. Being upset is no excuse for bad behaviour - for either a child or an adult. Your mother is sorry for her reaction, how about you?"

"I- I'm sorry too…"

"That's what I wanted to hear. Now, do you know why it was your mum was upset?"

"Yes. She - she said she wished I were more like Dudley."

"Yeah... I heard about that. You know she didn't mean it the way it sounded. She just meant that she wished you could... er... relax more. Yeah! That's it - relax. Have a little fun occasionally and quit taking everything so seriously. Let us worry about being the grownups and you just worry about being a kid. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir."

Oh yes, Harry understood completely. Except that he didn't understand is why it was that Mr. Krueger thought it was any different from what he understood before. He already knew that the Krueger's considered Dudley to be as perfect as a boy could be, and that he should act like him. Only Dudley thought everything that caught his eye was there for him to enjoy, whether it belonged to him or not. With an attitude such as that, no wonder he had fun. In addition, Dudley never had to take anything seriously, because wasn't punished for anything he did wrong – Harry was in his place.

"Then will you try?"

"Yes Sir." When Mrs. Krueger had declared that he couldn't come out until he acted like good boy, it had made him feel ill. When he had tried to be a Dudley before, he hadn't liked it at all. However, if it would make the Kruegers happier with him, he would try again to act like Dudley. If it were within his power, he'd do anything they wanted him to, even if they didn't want to keep him. To be fair, he had to admit when he tried before, that he hadn't tried as hard as he could have. Neither his teacher, nor Salazar would have been impressed with him giving up so easily. Apparently, neither was the Kruegers.

"Right-o! That's my boy! Now what about you?"

"Me? What about me?"

"That's what I want to know. The way I see it, something was bothering your mum to make her act the way she did, so something was probably bothering you too - it didn't just come out of the blue. So what happened? Was it Dudley again?"

Harry cocked his head quizzically at his dad and considered blurting out the whole story about the man he'd followed and his teacher stopping him. Only it seemed that every time he had opened his mouth about it, the situation got worse. First, he had tried to explain to his teacher, but he had just yelled at him and ordered him out of the park. Then he had tried to explain to Uncle Siri, and he had yelled at him and not only did he renewed the park ban, but he added that couldn't even leave the flat without being chained to someone! Then he had tried to explain to Mrs. Krueger, and she had yelled at him and said not only could he not leave the flat - he couldn't even leave his bedroom!

He dug at his big toe through the hole in his trainer and thought some more. What if he tried to explain to Mr. Krueger and all he did was to yell at him as everyone else had? What would Mr. Krueger do to him then? Stupid question! What did he think he'd do? It wasn't as if they had anywhere left to exile him to other than Privet Drive.

James could tell his son was wrestling with a weighty problem. He just hoped he'd confide in him, without him resorting to dragging it out of him. Of course, he was always willing to try it that way too. When Harry glanced up his way, he tried to smile at him reassuringly, doing his best to emulate Remus' patented unassuming yet empathetic look – the one guaranteed to put people at ease, build rapport, and encourage perfect strangers to spill their guts without even questioning why they were doing it.

Harry look back down quickly, and worried his lip. Mr. Krueger was smiling again. It was unnerving how much Mr. Krueger was always smiling at him because he did it just as much as Uncle Vernon had always scowled at him. In Harry's book, too much any anything always meant trouble.

Seeing his son biting his lip caused James to second-guess his tactic. He cursed Remus under his breath, although his current 'foot-in-mouth' circumstance was far from Remus' fault. Drat him anyway! His friend was always so successful with his humble approached to people he had thought it worth a try. All he wanted was one tiny breakthrough in his relationship with his son. But… how? James decided he would be more successful by just being himself and flashed Harry a broad confident grin.

Harry's eyes got big.

James ran his fingers through his hair and wondered if he shouldn't turn it up another notch. He flashed Harry an even wider grin and threw in a jovial pat on his nearest knee for good measure to show his support for him with whatever was weighing on his mind.

Harry's eyes got bigger.

Mr. Krueger was acting maniacal - the topic of Mr. Nathraichean's vocabulary lecture that morning. Mr. Nathraichean had said to watch out for people who switched back and forth between personalities at a drop of a hat, or who were overenthusiastic when the situation didn't call for it. He said that it was a sure sign that they were either unbalanced or up to something. He also said to be leery of anyone giving away something for nothing – as there was always a price to pay. He warned that the more enticing the gift, the higher the price you would end up paying. Then he said something about old men with long white beards being notorious for forgetting to disclose all of the hidden costs.

That part of the lecture had made no sense to Harry, but now as he stared at Mr. Krueger's chin from his close vantage point he could see that the day's growth of beard had a few white hairs sprinkled in among the jet-black ones. How did Mr. Nathraichean know they were there?

It was a trifle disconcerting to think that his teacher was calling his wonderful dad a maniac, but then his teacher always seemed so sure of everything, and Mr. Krueger didn't seem sure of much at all. Harry swallowed hard and thought quickly about what he should do. His teacher had advised that whenever trapped in a situation with a maniac that you should 'placate and vacate'. In other words – pretend to play along with what they want and then get away from them as quickly as possible.

Harry put on his best fake agreeable face, the same one he always used when Aunt Petunia ordered him to clean Dudley's room for him, and then cautiously patted Mr. Krueger's nearest knee in a return gesture.

"Thank you Sir for being concerned about me, but Dudley didn't do anything. I guess – I guess I was just having a bad day. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

James glanced at his son incredulously. He wasn't buying it for a second but it was obvious that Harry wasn't comfortable enough with him yet to confide in him what had really happened. James sighed and ran both hands through his hair this time.

"Okay Son – we'll go with that for now, but next time let's see if you can't throw in a little more detail? Deal?"

"Deal," Harry agreed. He was just relieved the inquest was over.

"Then let's go get some dinner. That chilli is starting to smell mighty fine!" James got up and pulled Harry to his feet. "Oh and one more thing... I've talked to you about this twice before and this time I mean it, no more 'Sir' and 'Ma'am'. While I appreciate you being polite and respectful, it's upsetting your mother. So please don't do it anymore. Okay?"

"Okay..." Harry nodded with a small defeated sigh.

James smiled broadly when Harry made the promise and enveloped him in a hug. Strolling out the room whistling he was proud of the progress, albeit small, that he had made. Not only was he a fantastic husband, he was a super fantastic dad! All problems solved in a jiffy! He didn't need any old stupid parenting pamphlets! He was a natural!

"... Mr. Krueger," Harry finished in a very small voice when his dad was out of earshot. He'd been hoping that no one would notice when he dropped the 'Mister' and 'Missus' and went back to 'Sir' and 'Ma'am'. All he had wanted was one tiny breakthrough in his relationship with his parents. Now he guessed he was back to square one on that too. Rolling his shoulders to get rid of the kinks, he cricked his neck to the left, then to the right. He then took a deep breath and strode out of the room as confidently as he could for someone about to act like a Dudley against all his better judgment.

"I told you so! I told you so!" Dudley's smug singsong voice floated out of the kitchen, bobbing on the stream of ticked-off words spewing forth from Uncle Siri. Both voices were coming out of the dangerously thick billow of acrid smelling smoke that was filling the flat.

"Why don't you tell me again? I missed it the first fifty-seven times," Sirius said annoyed.

"I told you so!" Dudley crowed obligingly.

"Fine - quit telling me and show me instead. I am obviously a visual learner," Sirius snarked and thrust the spatula into his charge's hand at the same time he hauled him off from his chair by his collar and pushed him not-so-gently towards the stove. Giving James and Harry a big wink as they came in, Sirius plopped down in the now vacant seat, tipped the chair back on two legs and crossed his ankles on the edge of the table.

"I'm watching. Go ahead - inspire me," he drawled, waving his hand in the air as if he were a royal prince delivering a command. Dudley harrumphed and lumbered to the stove. Taking the place Sirius had just vacated he turned his back to the crowd at the table, discarded the spatula, and picked up a long handled slotted spoon instead.

Harry could hardly believe what he was seeing. Was Dudley really going to… cook?

"It's all in the wrist. See? This is what I mean." Dudley expertly flipped a corn fritter in the hot oil at just the right time for it to come out golden brown and fluffy, instead of a hard black lump of charcoal, like the ones filling the platter that Sirius had cooked. If there was one thing that Dudley gave his undivided attention to – it was food.

"I think I need to see it again - didn't quite get it." Sirius teased.

Dudley sighed and made another.

"Once more - James was in my way right when you flipped that one. I could only see your elbow." By the time Sirius ran out of excuses, Dudley had cooked a dish full of the homey warm biscuits, enough for everyone to eat with the zesty chilli that was bubbling away on the back burner.

"Harry – could you tell your mother and sister that dinner is ready?" James asked as he started setting the table with thick white earthenware bowls.

Harry blinked but other than that, he didn't move. His stomach was so tied up in knots that he felt that if he did - he'd sick up.

"Harry, I asked you to get your mum and sis," James prodded adding spoons next.

Harry sighed. He had promised to be trying. Without getting up, he took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs: "GIRLS! DINNER'S ON! HURRY IT!"

Two sets of shocked eyes belonging to James and Sirius turned disbelievingly on Harry. Dudley wasn't shocked. He had always known his cousin was a freak.

"What's going on? What is all the shouting about?" Lily asked coming in with Holly balanced on her hip.

"I'm not quite sure…" James had his eyes still locked on his son, who was slouching down in his chair with a nauseated expression on his face, "… but I am sure it won't happen again. Will it Son?" he asked pointedly.

"No Sir. Er… Mr. Krueger." Harry was miserable knowing he was lying through his teeth.

As soon as his cousin placed the platter of fritters on the table at his own place and prepared to sit down to devour them, Harry reached over and pulled them away from him before he could and started stuffing the hot bits into his mouth in rapid succession. His eyes stung with tears from the mouth burns he was receiving from beads of hot oil that were still clinging to the hot bread, but still he persevered in his desperation.

"Hey! Cut it out! Those are mine! I cooked them!" Dudley yelled in dismay as he saw his fledgling culinary efforts gobbled down before his eyes.

"Whoa! Hold up there pup – save some for me. I worked hard for those!" Sirius tried to pull the platter away from Harry but backed off when Harry rudely batted his hand away.

"Harry – I believe those were intended for all of us. It is only polite to share – pass the platter to your godfather as he asked," Lily instructed gently.

"NO! I WON'T!" Harry squealed as loudly as he could with his mouth stuffed with food.

"Harry! What in Merlin's name has gotten into you?" Lily asked stunned.

"Nothing! I'm just taking what's mine! They're all mine! Nobody can have any but me!" Harry announced loudly in his best Dudley-the-shining-example-of-boyhood-perfection imitation that he could muster.

"Harry! We do NOT behave like that at the dinner table!" James was tired, fed up, and completely out of patience.

"Maybe we don't, but he …" Harry stood up, holding onto the edge of the table to steady the overwhelming forces fighting for control of his emotions. He was tired, fed up, and out of patience himself. He didn't understand – why was everything today going horribly wrong? He was only doing what everyone kept telling him to do - act just like Dudley normally did… except for at this very moment Dudley was smiling sweetly and passing the ladle to the pot of chilli courteously to Uncle Siri. Dudley was... he was being polite!

"ARRRGHH! MAKE. UP. YOUR. MIND!" Harry yelled, pulling at his hair in frustration with both hands.

Dudley smirked and stuck out his tongue at his cousin.

"I HAVE MADE UP MY MIND YOUNG MAN - GO TO YOUR ROOM!" James roared.

"But that's not fair! I was just..."

"It's not up for debate! Move it! NOW!" James commanded.

Harry choked on a sob, turned on his heels, and ran - slamming the bedroom door behind him for the second time in one day.

In the silence after the reverberation melted away, Dudley 'tsked-tsked' and shook his head knowingly. Some people can handle being a brat, and some can't. Then there are some, such as his freaky little cousin, who should stick to what he knows and not try to move into Dudley Dursley territory. Didn't he know you should never throw a tantrum at dinner until after they serve the pudding? Dudley helped himself to Harry's portion.

"Wow James... you sounded just like my old man there. Kind of creeps me out."

"So sorry Padfoot." James growled grimly, ashamed at losing his temper.

One by one James, Lily, and Sirius all visited Harry in his bedroom to try and talk with him, but none of them got more than a cold shoulder and a hurt glare. Even the little egg vibrating happy thoughts it's hardest through its patchwork shell, made nary a dent in his gloomy sulk. At a loss for what else to try, James and Lily finally decided to see if a good night's sleep would get rid of the petulant doppelganger currently in possession of their son's body. Tucking him in, they both secretly slipped an apple under his pillow without the other one seeing them do it - neither one wanting Harry to go hungry.

"What did we do wrong Jimmy?" Lily asked a little while later after the rest of the household had retired for the night.

"Merlin help me Rosie-Posy, I have no clue." James replied baffled. He really didn't know. He was so positive that he had made some headway with Harry during their talk before dinner. "Maybe things will make more sense in the morning. This day was strange all around - it wasn't just Harry."

"That reminds me Jimmy - I never did ask you how your day went… so how did it go?"

James was a little mollified by the question. Talking about his day with Lily when he got home had always made working at a muggle job, where he was unable to use magic, more bearable. This day he had a particularly odd customer and he had been looking forward to Lily showering some of her special brand of sympathy on him, but he forgot all that when he arrived home in the middle of Lily's very difficult day.

"It was a bit of a weird one," James told her.

"Weird? Weird how? What happened? Why don't you tell your Rosie-Posy all about it...?" Lily asked nestling down into her favourite spot under the crook of his arm.

"Well, do you remember that woman who worked in the office at the school?"

"Virgie Smythe?"

"Yeah... that's the one."

"What about her?"

"She came into the store late this afternoon, right as I was about to clock out, and Dave made me wait on her first. It seems the nearer I get to the end of my two week notice period, the more my boss is taking advantage by shoving all the more difficult customers my way, " James observed.

"Difficult? Virgie? I never thought of Virgie as particularly difficult."

"Okay so not 'difficult', but you have to admit she is a peculiar duck."

"That I will agree to," Lily laughed. "So what was our Virgie up to today?" Lily was glad to take her mind off from her concerns about Harry for a few minutes with a little gossip.

"She wanted hair dye."

"Aha! I knew that platinum blond came out of a bottle!" Lily crowed. "And she always claimed she was a 'natural'."

"That wasn't the shade she was looking for..."

"Not platinum blond? Really? Well that does surprise me. Maybe she just feeling a little down, and wanted to treat herself to a fresh new look," Lily suggested.

"That's what was so peculiar - she didn't want just any new look - she wanted your look."

"My look? What do you mean?" Intrigued, Lily propped herself up on one elbow so she could see what was written on James' face that he wasn't telling her in words.

"She wanted red hair dye."

"I hate to break it to you Jimmy, but I am not the only redhead in the world."

"The only one that counts, but no I'm serious - she didn't want just any normal shade of red or my boss could have dealt with it. No, she insisted on having one that would give her the exact colour 'of a Tahitian sunset reflected on the ocean in a ribbon of burning glory after a tropical storm'."

"Is that what my hair looks like? A ribbon of burning glory?" Lily asked amused.

"Of course, only I would have added a few words like vibrant and unforgettable."

"But it doesn't make any sense... are you sure Virgie was describing my hair colour?"

"Hey - even Dave thought so - that's why he sent her my way. He thought I'd know what shade you used."

"What shade I use? He thinks I dye my hair? And you let him?" Outraged Lily thumped James in the chest with a pillow.

"Don't worry I set him straight after she left! I told him that fire like yours could never come from a bottle."

"What do you mean by 'after' she left?" Lily asked suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

"You don't expect that I told him that in front of the paying customer? Her, I told that you used colour number sixteen."

"You didn't!" Lily gasped.

"You didn't want me to lose a sale did you?"

"I guess not," Lily agreed unhappily.

"As it was, it turned out to be a pretty good sale. I also unloaded more of those sherbet lemons off on her."

"I thought you sold all of those last week to that nasty man who wanted you fired."

"I found one more crate. Ha-ha! I had used it to prop open the stockroom door."

"But why in the world would Virgie want to buy any of those?"

"Well... Gina the cashier seems to think that the customer who bought the rest of the cases also works at the school. Ha-ha! She said she saw him last week yelling at the kids for playing on the playground when she went to pick up her nephew. So while I was ringing up the sale to Virgie I mentioned him to her to see if she knew who he was."

"Did she say?"

"No. When Gina described the man to her, she got too excited to make any sense. Then talk about not making sense - she insisted on purchasing whatever it was he had bought when he came in. So I sold her the entire crate," he ended with satisfaction.

"What do you think she's going to do with all those little petrified lumps of sugar?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I'm just glad they are all finally gone."

"Oh no! What if she gives them out to the kids at the school?" Lily gasped sitting upright in bed at the thought.

"What if she does?" James shrugged.

"The boys! They'll break their teeth on them!"

"No problem. We'll just tell them they aren't allowed to eat Sherbet Lemons."

Lily shook her head. "That might work with Harry, but not Dudley."

"Dudley won't be our problem for much longer - let Vernon worry about the dental bills."

"Really? You think your plan will work and you'll be able to get Petunia out of trouble?"

"Really. I promise on..." James glanced around in the darkened room for something convincing to make a pledge on just as the room flooded with light through the window as the moon broke through the storm clouds. "...on the full moon. Just as sure as its fullness will have decreased by this weekend, the full Marauder's Mansion will have also decreased its number of residents by one."

"Oh James... I love you," Lily sighed happily snuggling back down into her favourite warm spot. "Thank you for taking care of my sister and her family."

"There's nothing I won't do for you my sweet, even put up with your family. It's my mission in life to keep you happy."

"And I am... or at least I will be, except ..."

"Except?"

"Well... you haven't found Sev yet. Have you?"

"I'm getting close," James said through gritted teeth. How that man was able to keep coming between them, even when he wasn't anywhere around, was becoming downright annoying.

"You are? Oh, thank you Jimmm...myyy... I can't waiii - wait to see him again...," Lily yawned and started snoring lightly into James' chest.

"You're welcome Rosie - and I am getting close... close to not knowing where else to look that is." James admitted to his sleeping wife, kissing her forehead tenderly.

He had exhausted every lead he'd come up with, and turned over every rock large enough to hide a full-grown man, and several too small. If Severus Snape was out there, he didn't want anyone to find him, least of all not James Potter.