"And thus the native hue of Resolution"

"How did Snape not know?" Potter demanded, anger rushing through every word.

Harry stood still in the chair, deaf to the world of the Headmaster's office around him. Potter. His father - his family - him, he wasn't Harry Steward - nothing made sense anymore, nothing and everything - dimly, he was aware of the clock striking, a cold rush in the back of his head, elation and anger that wasn't his -

"Albus." His heart seemed to stop when Severus' cool words cut through the mad rush of the morning. "You wanted to see me?"

Someone was speaking, but Harry couldn't pay attention. Blood pounded through his head. Something tugged on him, hard, but -

"I don't pry unnecessarily into my students' lives, Albus," Severus said blandly. "Perhaps Steward might tell you where he grew up."

Harry looked up to his Head of House. Severus' face betrayed not a single thought, it gave nothing away... and as happy as Harry had been at the knowledge he'd found, a sudden terror took root in his heart. Severus - Fia - all of them.

If this was where he was supposed to be - if all of this was right - why did he feel so much guilt?

He missed whatever was said next. "Perhaps the better question is, how did you not know?" Severus sneered as he overturned the interrogation in one swoop. "As I recall, you and your uncle were the first to discover the bodies."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, his heart racing at the lies ready - keep it simple - he had to speak before Severus did - but Potter cut him off.

"He was with Lily's family, of course," Potter said angrily. "Don't try to change this around -"

"Why, may I ask, was he with his mother's muggle relatives?"

Slowly, Harry followed Severus' gaze to Po - his father.

James snorted. "He showed no signs of magic. It was the best place for him to go. The risk of a squib child growing up as the brother of the Chosen One - it was too great."

Something twisted in Harry's heart, a whisper of darkness and hunger, but he squashed it. He thought it was the best place.

"James only did what he thought was best." It was the Headmaster who spoke now - but Harry was too focused on Potter to turn. His face was flush, a cold anger in his eyes - but it was all towards Severus - and anger rose in him too, anger at Severus -

"... take Harry home," someone suggested.

Something pulled at him again, rage and fury and sadness, nearly overwhelming Harry again, but he held on - it must have been Potter who took him, who pulled him into the fireplace -

"Severus, your report on the train..."

But the Headmaster's office spun out of sight, consumed by green flames, and he spun into air and hit a stone floor roughly, a cold sting on his palms.

"Welcome home, Harry," Potter said cheerfully behind him.

Draco splashed water on his face, his head still swimming with the excitement of the day. Wiping off the drops, he looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, face flush with happiness. A mess, to be sure, but who cared? He was home.

"Let's go get some food," he said to Fia as he walked to the closet and grabbed a clean shirt, pulling it on over his head. She was perched on the side of his bed, spinning her wand in her hands.

"Yeah." She got off the bed, but her usual bounce wasn't there. Draco frowned - she should have been the first to celebrate coming home -

"Draco? Iphiginia?" His father knocked once at the door before opening it gently, taking in the sight of the two children with a slight frown. "Come along. The Dark Lord has requested to see you."

" - the - the -" Draco felt the air rush out of him suddenly. Yes, he'd known his father was a Death Eater, one of the leaders of the Dark Lord's followers, but -

"Draco." His father's eyes bore into him. "Don't dawdle."

Swallowing nervously, he picked up the pace as Lucius led them out of the room, Fia on his father's other side. She was silent - was she nervous too? He never could tell with his cousin. What would He be like? To meet one of the most powerful wizards - maybe the most - of all time... His heart pounded, threatening to overwhelm him. The manor was bustling with noise, though they passed only a few people in the hallway. He recognized some of the voices - he had some vague recollection of parents greeting the other students as they arrived at the manor - but others were a mystery. Those they did pass nodded to Lucius as they walked by, but didn't say a word.

Draco tensed just as they arrived at the door of the solar on the third floor. Lucius paused, and gave Draco a quick squeeze on his shoulder. "You'll be fine," he whispered. But Draco had no time to respond; suddenly, his father was pushing open the door, and the two cousins were ushered into the chamber.

He blinked as the light hit his eyes unexpectedly; the solar opened up onto the courtyard downstairs, the afternoon sun setting right in line with the view from the windows. The room was just as he'd remembered it from the few times he'd been allowed in as a child, the fire roaring corner, the dusty books scattered across the bookcases, the chairs fixed around the old wooden table... and he froze as he met the eyes of the man at the end of it.

"Lucius." The Dark Lord set down the papers he'd been reading as he acknowledged his lieutenant's arrival. "Miss Black. Mr. Malfoy."

"My lord." Draco bowed awkwardly, the lessons his parents had drilled into him as a child and that he'd recited perfectly rushing out of his mind in one swoop. Next to him, Fia echoed his movement smoothly. He eyed her out of the corner of his sight, curiosity suddenly overtaking him. She met the Dark Lord's gaze steadily.

"I understand Miss Granger and Mr. Steward were not on the train." The unspoken command broke through his errant thoughts and drew his attention back immediately. He swallowed, hoping the Dark Lord hadn't noticed, but the wizard's eyes continued to bore into him. His face was emotionless, but hardly empty - the dark eyes glittered with an unspoken power, strength echoing with every word. He was young, Draco realized, startled. Or not young, but with the ageless look of a marble statue.

Fia nudged him, and Draco registered his words again. "No - ah, I apologize, my lord," he stuttered. The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. Taking a deep breath, he began again, feeling a hot flush rising on his cheeks. "Harry disappeared that morning. To the library, I think, but he didn't come back. He didn't say. And Hermione - she, she was supposed to meet with McGonagall... we didn't realize - we thought we might have just missed them getting onto the train, but then we didn't find them, and we searched the entire train but -"

The Dark Lord nodded, and Draco felt the words die on his tongue. "I see. Lucius?"

"We haven't had word from Hogwarts yet," his father said grimly. "Not since yesterday."

He motioned something, and Draco felt his father grip his shoulder - confusion rose in him; was that it?

"Lucius, leave the girl with me," the Dark Lord ordered suddenly. Draco glanced at his cousin with surprise, biting his lip -

"Don't worry yourself, Draco." Was that amusement in his voice? "I only wish to speak to Sirius' daughter. Lucius, make the arrangements we spoke of."

"Yes, my lord. We'll be prepared tonight."

Harry took a deep, ragged breath as he raised his hand to the door. A house elf had pointed him this way - well, he didn't really need much help. When he'd woken up that morning, the house was empty, every door closed. He'd waited in his room, butterflies racing through his stomach, but nobody came. No, they must have meant for him just to come down - and now he was going to look like an idiot for not coming down sooner.

He stayed himself, ready to knock, but his hand slipped and pushed the door open.

"Oh, Harry!" Potter was sitting at a round table, breakfast laid out in a glittering spread across it. Fresh cut fruit was splayed out wantonly on a platter, pastries overflowing from a basket next to it. Three - three - juices, thick and pulpy in delicate glass pitchers. Though he'd grown used to the feasts at Hogwarts, there was something about seeing such luxury in a home - his home. His home, not someone else's.

Potter folded the newspaper with a sharp snap, drawing Harry's attention back up. "I didn't realize you'd be down."

Silence fell awkwardly.

Harry hovered on the edge of the table, unsure where to sit, or even whether to sit. Light poured into the room from the glass walls that opened onto a view of rolling hills, green as far as the eye could see and empty for miles. On one end was a quidditch pitch, just like the one at Hogwarts. It was a far cry from the city he'd grown up in, the most empty space he'd ever seen in his life. Suddenly, he remembered why he'd come down in the first place. "Can I - could I write to Petunia?"

"Who?" Potter's voice brought him back to the present.

Harry lost his thoughts for a moment. "Oh - um, Petunia." The older wizard still looked puzzled. "Petunia? Aunt Petunia. I think she might have been worried when I didn't come back from Hogwarts yesterday..."

"Aunt Dorea!" Harry followed his gaze to the doorway, thrown off for the moment. It was the woman he'd seen in the hallway at Hogwarts, he realized after a second. Oh. She's my aunt. He'd never really thought of Potter having an aunt; no one ever talked about his family much.

"You must be Harry." The older woman smiled deeply. She could have been in her fifties or sixties - or probably was, if she was his great aunt - but her face was only gently lined, the only trace of age. She was taller than Potter was, and slender. Delicate was the word that came to mind, though frail might have been better. If the glass hadn't held back the winds outside Harry was sure they would have knocked her right over. It was strange... if he didn't see her now, right here in front of him, he would have sworn this wasn't the woman he'd seen just one day before.

She looked over him to Potter. "James, you should have let the boy get some rest. I'm sure he's overwhelmed right now," the witch scolded.

"I -"

"Don't worry, dear." She paused to pat his cheek before walking over to the second place setting. "James, we must discuss the news - Harry, dear." She looked back up at him, the smile still etched into her face. "Go get some rest. Tiya will be up with some food."

Harry swallowed. "Okay."

Only when he left the room did he realize he'd never received an answer. He glanced back. No - the door was almost shut, the light drawing a sharp line across the wood floor.

It wasn't a big deal, he reassured himself. He'd just ask the next time he saw them.

As he hovered on the landing, some whispers fell through the crack of the door. An odd feeling rose in his stomach, that ugly little feeling he was intruding on something he wasn't meant to hear -

"... just like his mother."

Harry froze. The witch - Dorea - was the one who'd spoken - but that was normal. It was a normal thing to say, to say he was like his mother. She'd known his mother, after all. He turned back up - he was just seeing things were there weren't any. It was normal. Normal to be anxious - Hermione had felt that way too.

When he got to his room, someone had laid out food on the desk. Harry took a bite or two, but he wasn't hungry anymore. Dorea was right. He probably just need to rest - he hadn't slept well all night, tossing and turning, unexplained anger - or sadness? - rushing over him again and again. Letting his robe settle on the chair of the desk, he got back into the bed, sleep claiming him almost instantly.

Behind him, the door clicked shut as the lock turned.

Elation washed over him.

He woke in the darkness, his sight blurry. Did he have a fever? No, that wasn't right. He was aware of something -

Harry.

Tom's voice gripped him like a cold curse.

Tom, he tried to answer, but his tongue felt heavy. Something coursed through him again, threatening to overwhelm him - the same feeling of being tugged under by the ocean tide that overcame him the day before.

Harry panicked, air racing through his lungs, trying to reach for something that wasn't there. It was too much, it was going to drown him - no, he pushed against it, struggling against the power he couldn't control - NO, he screamed.

Sadness raced through him again, heartache anger, grief, before he pushed it away again with more force.

The darkness fled, chased away by the harsh light of the sun.

"My lord?"

Lord Voldemort frowned, turning back to the table. Faces looked back at him nervously, though none were bold enough to question him. He nearly snorted. Moments like these made him miss Sirius - the young wizard had never failed to be bold, at least, whatever his other faults...

"Continue." He gestured in a lazy order.

"The attack was successful, my lord." Regulus Black met his gaze calmly. "No fatalities on our side. Several of the younger recruits were injured when the Ministry forces engaged us, but..."

He turned over the call he'd heard just moments before in his head as Regulus continued his report on the attack on Azkaban. The call had been muted, as if screaming underwater, but it had been Harry - of that he was certain.

And the boy had pushed him away.

Something twisted inside him, feelings he had no time to deal with. "The prisoners?" he asked abruptly, as Regulus finished the report on their forces.

"All were freed from Azkaban, my lord." Bellatrix was more muted than normal. Both she and Rodolphus were overflowing with anger - he'd debated against sending them, but their cold rage had made them unstoppable. "They're recovering now, but it's too early to say how the healing process will go."

"Good." His voice was curter than he intended. "Regulus, ensure the wards remain stable. Establish the new bases we discussed. Lucius?"

"Still no word from Hogwarts, my lord. Members of the Order have not been seen for the last few days; we suspect they may have gone into hiding. Though Dumbledore has made attempts to consolidate power at the Ministry, they are still recovering from their losses. The distraction worked - they drew their forces away from Azkaban in their confusion just as we suspected they would. It is too soon to determine which way the Ministry will turn now that we've made our presence known."

Voldemort drummed his fingers on the top of the table. "Severus has not been incapacitated, but the events of the past two days will prevent him from making contact for now." His gaze rested briefly on Bellatrix and Rudolphus, before glancing to Regulus. "We will focus on consolidating our power. Let the Ministry fall, let the Order panic. They can do nothing for now."

"Yes, my Lord."