Child of Hogwarts, Part III: The Master of Death

by AimeretVivre

Third in the COH series; sequel to 'Part II: The Marauder Legacy.' Follows Harry through the summer and into year four. As the dawn of war draws closer and international students pour into Hogwarts, Harry faces his greatest challenges yet; Severus struggles with the imminent return of an unwanted assignment; and Albus balances the Dark Lords of past and present.

39. So Comes Snow After Fire

A/N: My dearest readers – you have no IDEA how happy I am to finally, finally share this chapter. It has been eleven long, tiresome months in the making and remaking, during which my life has been a roller coaster of emotions, upheaval, progress and setbacks. I know many of you have had a similarly trying year with the ongoing pandemic and the difficulties associated therewith – and my heart and prayers go out to you. I hope very much indeed that we shall see a better 2021.

As for this story – I hope my posting assures those of you with concerns over its abandonment that I have no intention of leaving this to languish any longer. I do intend to post twice monthly, though I cannot commit to more frequent updates, throughout this year.

Also, this chapter is ridiculously long… but there was no good place to break it up. So, here we are. Without any further delay, I am thrilled to present the next instalment in Child of Hogwarts Part III: The Master of Death, entitled 'So Comes Snow After Fire'.

Enjoy, and please read and review if you're so inclined!

P.S.: Because of the lengthy delay, reviewer responses are quite long. They are at the end of the chapter as usual.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

So Comes Snow After Fire

The fire burnt in an eerie, almost electric blue. Flames like angry asps licked scorched and faded brick, casting long shadows along the polished wood floor and the tall figure that stood slightly too close to be safe, staring into their depths. As the final log caught and the inferno reached its zenith, the figure leant forward and thrust his hand within, watching with curious detachment as gossamer fronds caught about his wrist and played in the recesses of aged fingers. His lips – robbed of colour in the blaze – curled into a near-smile; the brightening of one gold ring the only acknowledgement of heat.

The man eyed it for a moment. The gold chilled.

He stepped forward slowly, bare feet finding the smooth, cool stone of a hearth without cinders, without smoke, that stretched to receive him like a mother's womb. He need not even dip his head.

The man was clad only in a wispy, sleeveless tunic that hung off emaciated bones. Unlike the man's skin, this burned. Bits of faded fabric disintegrated and fell as he was cradled in flame. Where they dropped, blue became purest white.

The man sighed, shrugging the last of the lesser garment away. His bare skin shimmered strangely beneath. The man began a soft chant in an ancient tongue, somehow both guttural and melodious, swaying in the fire. The now-white flames shot higher, the chasm of a hearth grew larger, the floo above him widened and gaped – until the man's shining eyes reflected flame and stars both. He began to float – as though, like so much mysterious and wonderous in this moment, the man's very essence had transcended the tangible. And though the fire now blazed white and light and the man's thinning hair was colourless, his spell lifted others like a veil.

Coils of shadow began to take sinister form. Upon his arms, from wrist to shoulder; upon his legs, from ankle to knee. In this smokeless fire they hardened, became iron, blight amid so much brilliance.

The man revolved slowly as the coils finalised their shape. He did not examine the bonds. To any watching, it might appear he did not even notice their presence. Perhaps they were not present at all. But as the man chanted in his peculiar tongue, Runes began to appear along the iron lengths.

Upon his third rotation, he quit the chanted spell.

'Sapere aude,' the man muttered. 'Ut avertam oculos meos ad intendum.'

These Latin words, the man did not sing. Still, they hissed in time with the fire's tempo. He closed his eyes and opened others – drifting, falling, soaring. Voices echoed, distant and impossible to name. Figures winked and shimmered before him, faceless and haunting. And emotions – so many emotions – within and about and around him; consuming him.

'What do you offer me?'

A dark man in the night. Solitary candles, desperation and promises.

'I will require payment in return.'

'And you shall have it.'

'What do you offer me?'

A girl, motionless and still upon the grass… two boys knelt beside her. Anger.

'This is YOUR fault – all of it! Why can't you see…'

'What do you offer me?'

Whitewashed rooms and a crumpled, broken child. Blood and despair…

'…The boy is dying.'

'He cannot.'

'How extraordinarily defensive you become.'

'What do you offer me?'

Absence. Such absence… such anguish.

'You were closer to him, I imagine, than anyone else… Almost as father and –'

'Do not dare to speculate about how I felt…'

'Some people are not meant to be happy, boy… they are meant to be great.'

'What do you offer me?'

With a gasp that was half a groan, the man relinquished Sight for sight, awakening naked in the cocoon of silver light.

'What do you offer me?' he repeated in a whisper. 'What, indeed…'

He stretched his arms out in front of him and, at last, studied the coils. They wavered now, their Runes unreadable as they strained. The man began to chant again. Slowly, softly.

Then faster.

And faster.

And louder.

The Runes bled and trembled, and his arms began to shake, his knees to jerk. His voice, however, steadied as it grew – until deep, resonant tones boomed off the crumbling brick and his chains writhed and withered like earthworms trapped in the cruel surprise of dawn.

It ended in a sudden explosion of brilliant light.

The man arose from his fiery baptism in sweeping, fine robes of iridescent silver – as though the flames had woven themselves around him. His hair had thickened; thin arms had strengthened; even the stoop to his shoulders seemed to have burnt itself straight.

He snapped two fingers lazily at the glimmering grate, and warm orange flames arose from the blue-grey ash.

He poured himself a goblet of wine and sank back as if to sit upon the air. A fine, highbacked chair with the scarlet cushioning of royalty wedged itself into existence to appease him. The man turned amused eyes upward – a king reborn – studying his own improved reflection in a great gilded mirror above the mantel.

Though the lonely throne room was otherwise quite empty, its mirrored counterpart was not. The man gave a predatory smile as his companion's shadow took form, their shoulders so close he could feel their pulses sync.

'Alea iacta est. And now, my clever friend… Do you play roulette with fate? Or shall you attempt to outmanoeuvre her too?'

He laughed once and raised his glass as if to toast.

'Many may see the world burn, my friend. But only the true phoenix shall rise.'

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A thick, uneasy silence hung over Grimmauld Place.

He woke in the sitting room of the ground floor, curled into a corner of the largest sofa. Desperate vestiges of ancient finery clung to the cushions like souring wine, but the lush green velvet had grown faded, thin with wear and moth-eaten at the embroidered edges. The spacious room held a faint, repulsive odour of must. Even poorly shrouded with the tang of chemicals, it caught in Harry's throat and made his already painful head swim. It reminded him strongly of the time a rodent had died in the walls of Privet Drive when he had been nine years old. Harry was forced to spend two days in the cellar attempting to find the poor creature, gagging on the stench, before his uncle finally gave in and phoned a proper plumber when Harry told him he thought it was in the pipes.

The trail of unpleasant memory led him back to the Basilisk. Harry shivered.

He contemplated asking Sirius to open one of the long windows when he returned, but then thought better of it. He didn't want to add his godfather's safety to the lengthening list of things he'd put at risk today.

And in any case, Sirius did not seem to be at hand.

A spring groaned beneath him and dug a bit deeper into his left hip. Harry pulled the blanket draped round his shoulders up so it covered the lower half of his face, and lifted the tea to his nose in hopes the honeyed fumes would chase away the giddiness.

The others had gone in a harried twenty minutes of controlled chaos. Harry seemed to remember only bits and scraps; and Snape's fury most of all. His hand quaked even now as he thought of it.

'– damage control, if there's even an opportunity at this late hour!' Snape had railed, glaring in Harry's direction.

Albus frowned deeply. He ran a hand along a long burn in the handsome kitchen table. 'It may not be as bad as all that, Severus.'

'Not as – headmaster, you saw the blasted thing! We'll be lucky to –'

'What was that foul woman doing in your classroom, Snape?!' Sirius demanded with a snarl. 'Are you in the habit of inviting two-knut reporters to observe student cauldrons?'

'He wasn't there yet,' said Harry in a hoarse whisper that went utterly ignored.

Sirius took a furious step towards the Potions master, his fists clenched. 'Why were you not overseeing your own bloody lesson!'

Snape whirled from Dumbledore with malice glinting in his eyes. 'Potter's short-sighted arrogance is not on my shoulders, Black!'

'This isn't productive,' Remus interrupted loudly.

'Not hardly,' piped up the Auror Harry had only just met, her pink head appearing around Remus' shoulder to frown at Snape. 'And really, I don't see why you're all going mental. It's not as though this is the first time Skeeter's gone off on one of her wild theories. Best ignore it, if I –'

Snape turned his trademark sneer on her. 'You have been here all of five minutes, Miss Tonks. Do not presume to speak where you do not understand.'

'That will do, Severus,' Albus cut in at last, in a voice more wearied than reproving. 'There are enough sharp tongues without this room. Let us not bring the venom within, if you please.'

Tonks stared between them. 'Hold on a mo…' she said slowly. 'Are you saying… it's true, what she's written?'

'The famed deduction of an Auror,' Snape hissed. 'Your dear, deranged mentor must be so proud.'

Harry – the only one who had remained sat at the table throughout the commotion in the kitchen – felt sick. He pushed the plate of half-eaten breakfast farther away, rested his elbows on the age-worn wood, and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Even so, his own moving image under the flashing headline burned into his retinas.

'- how she could have come by the information,' he heard Albus say.

'Read the newspaper, Dumbledore!' Sirius growled. 'Says plain as mating trolls she watched it –'

'She was not within my classroom, Black! A gossiping student, no doubt. I had hoped none quite realised… This is precisely what I –'

A fist banged the table hard enough to rattle Harry's teeth through the vibration of his elbows. 'And how do you know she wasn't in the room?!'

'Because it is my classroom!' Snape retorted. 'I filed the lot of idiots out, save Potter, immediately after this incident. No other came through the door before the boy was summoned upstairs for the ceremony.'

'She might have had an Invisibility Cloak,' Tonks suggested. 'Like Mad-Eye. He's got two, actually.'

'Impossible, unless it also made her intangible,' Snape scoffed. 'She would never have been able to leave the dungeon without jostling the students. And I shut that door myself.'

'A Disillusionment Charm –'

'Are you as daft as the girl, Lupin?! How would that have been any diff–'

'I do not think so,' the headmaster interrupted. 'I would have noticed had she recently used such a charm.'

'As I said. A gossiping student remains the most likely culprit.'

'We must do something, Albus,' Remus muttered. Harry was drawn at last to squint through his fingers as the folds of the newspaper brushed against his arm. Remus pulled the Prophet from the table. He scanned the article again, though they'd all read it already. 'They'll be questions…'

'Questions?' Sirius scoffed. 'Questions, Remus? Fudge's likely to mount a full inquiry. Of all the ridiculous –'

'One step at a time,' Albus interjected calmly. 'The situation is not yet so dire.'

He gave Harry a piercing look. A moment later, the remnants of the breakfast vanished from the table. 'Sirius, would you be so kind as to show Harry about the house?'

His godfather twisted to stare, open-mouthed, at the headmaster. 'Albus, don't you think –'

Harry straightened from his slump. 'What? No!' He pushed himself to his feet. 'I can't just – Albus, this is all my fault.'

'As usual,' Snape muttered ungraciously.

'It isn't,' Sirius protested.

Harry ignored them both. 'I have to –'

But the headmaster raised his hand, his expression as stern as Harry had ever seen it. 'We will discuss it later, Harry,' he said firmly. 'Go with Sirius now, please.'

He half expected, from the look on Sirius' face, that his godfather would make his own complaints. But instead, a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, and he found himself being steered out of the room.

He heard Snape's urgent hiss resume before Sirius even shut the door.

Harry had hardly paid attention to the 'tour' Sirius then imparted. He could not shake the dread in his stomach. Ever present as it had been since the night his name shot out of the goblet of fire, now it seemed to curdle and churn within him. Sirius' assurances that Rita Skeeter was nothing but a rumour monger; that Albus would sort it all out; that it was not his fault – none did anything to soothe his nerves. And when they returned to the ground floor to find Remus waiting for them in the sitting room, alone, with a tea set on the table, Harry's heart sank farther.

'Albus?' Sirius had enquired for him.

'Gone to the Ministry,' Remus answered with a forced smile. 'I'm to join him shortly. Tonks has gone as well.'

'What about Snape?' Harry asked dully.

'He's returned to Hogwarts for the moment,' said Remus. 'He and Albus will both be back this evening.'

Sirius muttered something foul under his breath, but Harry merely nodded. Remus stood and patted his shoulder bracingly. 'It'll all work out, Harry. Just keep your chin up. And have some tea for Merlin's sake; you look ready to fall over. Sirius – could I speak to you a moment?'

His godfather pushed Harry onto the sofa with a smile, winked, and followed Remus into the front hall. He snapped the door shut behind them.

Harry did not attempt to eavesdrop. He did not bother to pour himself a cup of tea. He barely registered when Sirius returned to do it for him, until it was pressed into his numb fingers with a concerned look.

'I'm okay,' he found himself mumbling.

Sirius frowned at him. 'I need to check in with Minerva. I'll be right back.'

He nodded, and Sirius left the room again. Harry set the tea to the table and burrowed into the side of the sofa. He hardly noticed when he drifted off to sleep.

It was several hours later when he woke at last, to the still and silent parlour in which he now reposed. He came to with a muffled groan, the tendrils of unpleasant dreams slow to release their grasp.

Someone, presumably Sirius, had draped a blanket over him whilst he slept. The cup of tea still steamed invitingly on the table, though a glance at the handsome grandfather clock in the corner of the sitting room showed Harry it had been more than two hours since breakfast. He took the cup in his slightly shaking hand, pulling up the blanket against the tainted air.

'You're awake.'

Harry nearly spilt the tea. Sirius appeared before him, rescuing the delicate cup. He set it to the tray without taking his eyes from his godson.

'How are you holding up?'

Harry shrugged. 'About as you'd expect.'

Sirius grimaced, still peering closely at him. He looked almost as tired as Harry felt.

'I'm not going to break apart,' Harry assured him. 'So you can stop looking at me like that.'

Sirius gave a much more natural smile. 'If you could see yourself right now, you'd look at you funny too. I'm half-surprised you didn't sleep through to dinner.'

He reached out to muss his hair. Harry pulled back with a grumbled protest, and Sirius relented, throwing himself into the sofa's opposite corner and resting the heels of his boots on the tea table.

'So…' Harry began awkwardly, worrying the edge of the blanket between his fingers. 'Anyone come back yet?'

Sirius grinned. 'Not just yet. Crisis management takes time, Harry.'

Harry snorted. 'Great. Now I'm some magical freak the Ministry's after, and Dumbledore's pissed off, and –'

'James' flair for the melodrama goes along with the hair, I see.' He lunged as if to muss it again, and Harry dodged. Sirius laughed. 'Well I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you're no freak. Wandless magic's been around since the dawn of time. And Albus isn't angry.'

'Could've fooled me,' Harry mumbled.

A booted toe kicked him lightly in the thigh. 'He's not angry with you,' Sirius clarified. 'But I wouldn't pay ten thousand galleons to be Rita Skeeter this morning.'

'And Snape…'

'Who gives a kneazle's arse what that idiot thinks?' Sirius scoffed. 'You ask me, he's far more to blame than you are. Can't keep control of his own sodding classroom.'

Harry shifted uncomfortably against the armrest. 'I never should have done it. I don't know why I did. Malfoy… he just always knows how to get under my skin.'

'Someone always can,' Sirius agreed with a grunt. 'You think you're the first teenager to lose his head in the heat of the moment?'

'No, but –'

'We've all been fourteen before, kid,' said Sirius firmly. 'And we've all gone too far. From the sound of things, that little bell-end instigated it all anyway.'

'Who cares,' Harry muttered. 'Doesn't mean I had to go off like that. Doesn't make it okay…'

'I didn't say it did,' said Sirius with a shrug. 'But you can't carry the can for everything, Harry. Trust me – it's not going to do any good. What's done is done. And now we deal with it.'

Harry scrubbed his hand over the grit of sleep in his eyes. 'Snape's told me a hundred times. And now… you watch. He won't want to teach me anymore. He'll make me stop the lessons now I've gone and mucked everything –'

'Snape'll do what he's told,' Sirius growled. 'I don't care how high and mighty he plays with you. You want to continue having the lessons, you'll get them. Though personally, I'd rather Dumbledore teach you himself.'

Harry picked at a chip in the teacup. 'I can't ask that of him now. Not with everything going on this year. He's flat out trying to manage it all as it is.'

He thought of all the time Albus was already wasting on him this term – even now, trying to clean up his colossal mess with the Ministry – and his stomach squirmed worse than ever. A little piece of turquoise china gave way with a soft grind, and bit into the soft flesh beneath his nail.

Sirius pulled the teacup from his fingers, frowning again.

'Listen, Harry. I know it's been a rotten start to term. All that business over the summer at the World Cup, and now this tournament. It's not fair, that so much of it has landed on your shoulders. I know that.'

He kicked his boots off the table and sat up, resting one elbow on his leg. With his right hand, he clapped Harry's left knee. 'It's not fair,' he repeated. 'But you need to listen to me all the same. You need to be careful. There's a lot worse than an idiot reporter out there this time, kid. Someone's made sure your name came out of that goblet. Someone's playing for the Snitch here. Karkaroff –'

'Karkaroff didn't have anything to do with it,' said Harry with a sigh. 'I heard what you said this summer. I did!' he insisted, when Sirius' mouth fell open in impending interruption. 'But I'm telling you – this can't have been him. Nobody's that good an actor.'

'You don't know that,' said Sirius, gripping his knee harder and shaking him slightly. 'You don't, Harry. You can't understand… well, I hope you never will. But you watch out for him. Karkaroff and his champions.'

'Krum'll have a job pulling anything off in secret,' said Harry truthfully. 'He's an international Quidditch player – one of the best in the world. He can't walk the corridors without making the front page.' He snorted without humour. 'Not that I should talk, apparently.'

'If he's in the tournament, he's no fool,' Sirius pointed out. 'Don't trust that you can predict him. And the other one – the Petrov witch –'

'Natalia,' Harry supplied.

Sirius frowned. 'I don't know the girl. But the family is dark, Harry. Dark as they come. They have been for centuries.'

Harry gave his godfather a wry smile. 'Didn't you tell me just this morning that we shouldn't judge based on familial tendencies?'

For emphasis, he nodded towards the massive Black family tapestry that hung along the opposite wall. True – he had been a bit too distracted to catch all of Sirius' falsely bright prattle as he give him a tour of the place. But he had heard enough. Every inch of the dilapidated mansion dripped with the remnants of dark grandeur he would expect in Malfoy Manor, not a house that Sirius could ever have called home. He had known for some time, of course, that Sirius had fallen out with his family. That he had left. That he had gone to Harry's own grandparents instead, and lived with his father through the end of their school days. But it did not make viewing this house any less odd.

With a guilty pang, Harry realised that, wallowing in his own self-pity, he had not yet bothered to consider what this place must be like for Sirius.

What would he, Harry, feel, if after so many years he was forced to return to 4 Privet Drive? Even without the Dursleys in the house, he knew the shadows of their cruelty would never truly be dispelled. Not for him.

'Cute,' Sirius mocked, lightly cuffing his ear. 'But it pays to be on your guard. Especially when dealing with a witch whose family led Grindelwald's terrors in Russia.'

'They – what?' Harry sputtered, shaken from his reverie. 'Her parents worked for Grindelwald?'

'Grandparents,' Sirius corrected. 'And they did more than work for him, Harry. They worked with him. It took the international confederation three years to track Mikhail after Albus had dealt with Grindelwald. In the end, he killed another dozen in the fight to bring him in. And they never found Yelena at all.'

Harry looked away, studying the tapestry again. So many generations entwined; gnarled woven branches decked in stately painted faces and a smattering of tiny, singed holes. He wondered whether the Potter family had ever had anything similar. If, like this ancient and once grand artefact, so much sprawling majesty had faded into dust like the mouldering of autumn leaves; leaving only one drifting bauble too slight to hold the weight it bore.

'That doesn't mean she's evil,' he reasoned softly. 'She couldn't have even known them…'

'No, it doesn't mean she's evil,' Sirius agreed quietly. Harry felt fingers brush the side of his face. He tore his gaze from the tapestry, and found soft grey eyes staring at him. 'But I would not have you stake your life on a gamble of chance.'

Harry sighed, bunching the blanket in his fists. Sirius let his hand fall with a little smile. 'Do you want to get some more sleep? I could show you up to your room. It'd be more comfortable than this lumpy sofa.'

In truth, the idea was more than appealing. A part of him felt as though he could sleep for the next nine months – until this article had blown over; the tournament had passed; school had let out again and the castle was his own private refuge once more.

But he shook his head all the same.

'You're sure? Albus mentioned you've been having trouble sleeping lately…'

And there it was, thought Harry. He'd been lucky not to be pulled from his impromptu kip by the dark dreams already – especially when he'd fallen asleep without bothering to clear his mind. The idea of screaming himself awake yet again, when he'd already caused so much trouble this week-end and he was meant to be spending time with his godfather…

'It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know,' said Sirius quietly, as though he could hear Harry's thoughts. 'Take it from someone who's had more than his fair share of nightmares.'

Harry gave him a half-accusing look. 'Don't tell me you're a Legilimens too.'

Sirius laughed, shaking his head. 'Never was my style. But your face is an open book, kid. And unfortunately for you, given how much of it you've borrowed from your old man, it's a book I've had quite a few years to memorise.'

Harry smiled, though he felt it fade from his lips almost before it began. 'It's not just the tournament,' he admitted.

Sirius' mirth faded too. 'I know,' he said, giving Harry's knee a renewed squeeze.

'Or Voldemort,' Harry added with a grimace. 'Or that stupid article.'

'Couple of articles,' Sirius corrected. 'There was an interview too. Excellent interpretation of your words if I do say so my–'

Harry groaned, resting his face in his hands. 'Please don't remind me…'

Sirius chuckled. 'Sorry, sorry – too soon.' Harry did not respond. After a moment, Sirius clapped his shoulder. 'Well, not that this tournament in and of itself isn't enough to drive you madder than an erumpent in heat… but what else is it, Harry?'

Harry relaxed his grip on the blanket, letting the fabric fall back to his lap with a soft billow that was almost a sigh. He stared off at the tapestry again, not meeting the gaze he could feel boring into the side of his head. Sirius waited in silence.

'Ron,' Harry breathed out at last. 'It's Ron.'

Still, Sirius said nothing.

Harry turned, remembered hurt and anger replacing the awkward tension. 'He's been an utter prat, ever since the night with the goblet. He accused me of doing it on purpose; and he was furious I hadn't brought him along to enter himself. We had a row about it in the dormitory. And he hasn't spoken to me since.'

'Ah,' said Sirius, sighing deeply. He turned so they were facing each other at opposite ends of the long sofa. 'Ron isn't angry, kid. And he doesn't really believe you put your name in, either.'

Harry scowled. 'That's what Hermione said,' he muttered. 'Says he's jealous. Of all the ridiculous –'

'He is,' Sirius interrupted.

Harry gaped at him. 'Jealous?! Jealous of what? That I'm likely to get my head blown off? Or maybe he fancies having some nonsense about him written up in the Daily Prophet so that everyone can think he's some kind of freak too? Or –' he laughed bitterly – 'Maybe he wishes half the school would think he's some big-headed prat, seeking a bit more fame with no regard for – WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING!?'

'I'm sorry, Harry, I'm sorry,' Sirius choked out, wiping a bit at his eyes.

Harry was so infuriated that he jumped up off the sofa, backing away from Sirius toward the hearth until the edge of the mantel bumped his shoulder. An antique vase sat invitingly just inches from his left ear, and he briefly contemplated chucking it at Sirius' shaking head.

Or, perhaps, he should just storm from the room.

But Sirius gave a cough and stopped chortling. 'I'm sorry,' he repeated. 'But sometimes… it's so easy to forget… I just mean, that this would be what preys on your mind, with everything else –'

'He was my best mate,' Harry spat. 'He's supposed to be on my side! And he's turned out to be –'

'Human,' Sirius finished for him. 'I'm not saying it's decent, Harry. Really, I'm not,' he rushed on, as Harry swelled with indignation. 'I'm only –'

With a high-pitched blast to deafen angels, the vase exploded.

'Watch it there!' Sirius shouted, hopping to his feet and drawing his wand in one elegant movement as shards of jade and cream began to pepper the floor.

As smoothly as Snape had vanished the glittering dust in the Potions dungeon the day before, Sirius swept his wand through the air and disappeared this newest calamity. He started towards his godson – then paused, some two feet shy. His eyes searched Harry's face. 'Are you hurt?'

Harry clenched his fists so tight that he could feel the strain through his neck. But no other objects joined the vase. He shook his head.

'Sorry about the vase,' he offered begrudgingly. 'I can try to fix it; though my repairing spells…'

Sirius snorted. 'Hated the bloody thing. But sit down, won't you?'

Harry was not sure he did want to. To demonstrate his contriteness, however, he complied. Sirius ran a hand through Harry's untidy hair, shaking loose a few additional bits of vase onto the threadbare rug. He shrugged out from under the ministrations with a scowl.

Sirius did not seem rebuffed. 'You need to control that temper,' he observed with a half-smile.

'So I've been told.'

Sirius ran a hand through his own long hair. 'Listen… stay here, alright, just for a mo? I'll be right back.'

Where am I going to go? Harry wanted to retort. It was not as though he had another option. Albus was gone and, while he was fairly sure he could do magic at Grimmauld Place without detection… he wasn't positive. Even if he could, it wasn't as though he could Apparate yet. His broom was thousands of miles too far to summon, and he had no idea if Sirius kept any in the house. He couldn't exactly run about London on his own. And even if he found Floo powder, returning to Hogwarts and the backlash that was sure to be spreading throughout the school like wildfire made his stomach churn threateningly again.

So he nodded once.

Sirius gave his knee another squeeze. 'If you're going to blow up something else, you might try the tapestry. Damn thing refuses to come down.'

And he disappeared at a clip, before Harry could decide whether he was offended or amused.

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There are many kinds of lies.

Some are told for one's own benefit: a subtle inflation of the ego; a careful omission of a flaw; a clever reinvention of circumstances. Lies that feed status, or importance, or pride.

Some are told for the protection of others: to hide what could bring only pain; to shield the innocent from demons they need not face; to keep old demons at bay. Lies that promulgate a greater good. Lies that give hope. Others that take hope away.

Some are told for no particular reason at all.

Some are for only certain ears. Others are for every ear save one.

Some are secret – even from oneself. Others are agreed upon by all; a tacit solidarity that recognises truth is far less preferable, or far less certain.

Some creep into dreams; wake their keepers amidst sweat and racing hearts. Others give peace at night.

Some dwell at the surface, easy to pick off and deny and discard when the moment strikes. Others are insidious, pervading through reality until the lie has grown so firm a hold, even the one who began it cannot recall its edges.

There are many kinds of lies.

And Severus Snape had told them all.

He wondered, now, which Albus was spinning – as the old man flitted about the Ministry and The Prophet offices, quelling and charming and no doubt enchanting his way through the boy's latest mess. He wondered how the headmaster justified them.

'Is it true then?'

Lucius Malfoy lounged in a wingback chair built for show, rather than comfort. His right hand stroked the silver handle of his wand, the left flung insouciantly over the gilded arm of his seat. He gave every air of casual enquiry. But Severus could see steel in his gaze.

He kept his own face carefully impassive. 'You ask me to comment on the prattle of some desperate reporter, Lucius?'

Malfoy raised a supercilious eyebrow. 'I ask you to comment on the events which, by her account, occurred in your very classroom. An attack upon my son, as it were.'

'According to her, it was Draco who attacked Potter,' the Potions Master pointed out.

A foolish contradiction, he realised too late. Though Lucius did not flare in anger, his right hand stilled. 'Upon the mudblood,' he corrected in a dangerous hiss. 'And what is this, my old friend? Have you grown to admire the boy, after so many years at Dumbledore's heel?'

Severus sniffed. 'I cannot stand Potter, as well you know. But I am not the one enquiring after his strength. I am not the one still weighing his options.'

'Careful,' Lucius spat, half-rising for the first time. 'Careful now, Severus.'

They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, the Potions Master inclined his head once. Lucius settled back into the opulent chair.

'I weigh nothing,' he defended. 'But I do recall you, just a few short months ago, assuring me that Harry Potter was mediocre on his best day. If the Skeeter woman is correct, then it seems there is much Dumbledore has imparted upon his little protégé. This poses an interesting conundrum, Severus. Has he done so without your knowledge? Or have you, for whatever reason that may be, concealed such knowledge from other… interested parties?'

Severus picked a stray thread from the elbow of his robes, where a button tested the mettle of its fastenings. 'There is little about Potter I do not know, Lucius. And again, I remind you to consider the source. You give her too much credence.'

'And you not enough,' Lucius challenged. 'I've had an owl from Draco this morning.'

Years of practise kept his gaze steady and a politely incredulous eyebrow raised. But within, Severus could have hexed himself. In his haste to rail at the reckless boy and the headmaster who could not see past him, he had given no thought to the imprudent tongues of other children.

He should have shut this down the previous evening, before it had a chance to fester. Whilst he kept Potter scrubbing to midnight in penance, he should have ensured that no other had pieced together what had transpired.

'And what did Draco have to say?'

Severus felt the familiar brush against his iron walls. He skirted it effortlessly, masking the parry with everything his intruder sought to see. Lucius, though by no means without skill, had not the aptitude for the mind magics that his wife's family had always prized. The clumsy spell dissipated.

'He does not think the Prophet so eccentric.'

'The minds of even the cleverest boys are always given to the fantastic,' Severus retorted.

'Not the mind of my son,' Lucius said stubbornly. 'Draco is many things, I freely admit. But never has he afforded Potter any credence he may otherwise explain away. I ought to know –' he gave a wry, tight smile – 'For I have twice now been treated to detailed exposition when Potter has come away victorious on the Quidditch pitch.'

Severus tapped his fingers against the cushioned velvet of his own chair's arm. 'I am still given to consider it unlikely. And even less so that Dumbledore might have instructed the boy in its use. As you have remarked on multiple occasions, I have scarcely left the castle or its headmaster's purview in the past decade. If he were granting the boy private tutorials in wandless magic, I would know.'

'Are you quite –'

'I am certain,' Severus interrupted, with just a hint of bite. 'Keeping a watch on the headmaster's movements was always my primary purpose at Hogwarts. And these past few months more so than ever.'

'Dumbledore has always taken particular interest in Potter…'

'Dumbledore t–'

A tiny house-elf appeared in the room with a sharp crack, clutching a duster nearly twice its size. She took one look at her master – evidently finding his presence unexpected – squeaked a frightened apology at his glare, and vanished nearly as quick as she'd come.

Severus waited for his companion's muttered resentments to fade before continuing. 'Dumbledore takes an interest, yes. Naturally he does. As I am often reminding your son – and as I am certain the Prophet learns this very moment – to threaten the Potter boy is to test Albus Dumbledore's wrath. But blatant favouritism is not akin to secret training, Lucius. Which is my point. And even if Potter used wandless magic yesterday – what of it? He has never demonstrated the meanest of skill in such arts before. Even children may perform magic otherwise beyond their talents under stress or high emotion – and that classroom teemed with both.'

'It is no great leap to deduce what the Dark Lord thought Potter to be,' said Lucius quietly. 'He sought the boy, not the parents, on that night it all fell apart. He had sought him for more than a year. And when he found him… well.' He gave another sardonic, slightly more nervous smile. 'We all know how that ended.'

We do not, thought Severus. And isn't that the point? It did not end…. It began.

But some things ended. Some things were no more. Faceless boys wailing in their cots; and blown apart houses; and lifeless shells that had once held the world crumpled on the floor, where selflessness and bravery – those foolhardy hallmarks of the house of the Lion – had finally called in their tokens.

'– to believe that he could be capable of such magic? Dumbledore cannot be ignorant of the boy's import, should the Dark Lord rise again. Dumbledore himself placed the Potters into hiding to begin with.'

'What would you like me to say, Lucius?' said Severus with some exasperation. 'What reassurances do you seek? Shall I tell you that Potter is as useless as the Longbottom child? He is not. But neither is he any great threat to Merlin. It matters not what Dumbledore might think. Not now, at any rate.'

'You have told me yourself that the headmaster dotes upon him,' Lucius fought stubbornly. 'The boy has been shrouded in mystery since his birth. And now he is seen to practise in the wandless arts… ' He shook his magnificent, white-blond head. 'Coincidence is the province of fools, Severus.'

'I never called it coincidence,' said Severus. 'But one lucky moment does not make a wizard. Do not ascribe to the boy talents he has yet to possess, Lucius. Potter may be Albus' Achilles' heel… but, as yet, Potter is no Achilles.'

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How many times had he walked these halls?

When his beard had been scarcely more than a tickle at his chin, and his life had been nothing more than ambition and freedom, and the pull of the stately office on Level One had been as a siren's song. When the world had brought him to tears, and all had been lost, and the sight of that same polished door repulsed him even as they begged him to walk through. He had been hunted here – for good and for ill – more times than he could count. He had seen the might of the Ministry through more than a dozen regimes, and through times too when there had been no regime at all.

Albus wondered if the handsome stone remembered as well as he.

Now, the circular corridors spun about him; mocked him; the emotion of these past few days made manifest. Weariness threatened to bend his shoulders and shorten his stride. All this time he had felt the reins secure in his hands. Only now did he realise it was a carousel he rode. The feeling was as familiar as it was infuriating.

There were still two calls left to make.

And he had left Harry with Sirius.

Albus trusted him, to be sure. He knew Sirius' heart was in the right place; knew that he cared more for Harry than for anyone else still living; knew he would protect him with his own life, if ever it came to it. But Sirius was still battling his own demons. And Sirius did not know this child as Albus did. He did not understand him as Albus did. He would not know what to look for.

He could not know that Harry skipped milk in his tea when his nerves were frayed. That he slept spread across the bed when he was content, and curled in upon himself when he was ill, upset, or frightened. The way he broke food apart in his hands when he felt guilty, that a casual eye might mistake the plate for picked at though he had put not a morsel to his lips. The way he talked around a problem he did not want to voice aloud. The way he refused to talk at all, when the problem was so great he could not bear to think of it. Much of dealing with Harry was reading Harry. And Albus worried that Sirius did not yet have a grasp on that particular textbook.

But there was nothing for it. They each of them had their role to play. And today, his was not at Grimmauld Place.

'Professor Dumbledore. I'm not sure the Minister is at leisure to take a social call.'

The undersecretary stood resolute before the polished door, tiny bow quivering atop her iron curls as she frowned up at the headmaster (barely reaching his chest). She raised an eyebrow at Albus' benign smile.

'In fact, I'm certain he is not,' she amended before he could speak.

Albus inclined his head. 'I assure you, he is expecting my arrival,' he said, gently sliding his hand around her to grasp the handle of the door. 'And I'm afraid I have very little time before I must return to my school. Excuse me, Dolores…'

He stepped quickly through, ignoring her affront, and neatly shut the door behind him – adding his own silent charm to the existing privacy enchantments.

'Ah, Dumbledore,' Fudge greeted, rising from his desk with no sign of surprise at the headmaster's appearance. 'I had heard you were about the Ministry today.'

'Good morning, Cornelius,' said Albus. 'Or good afternoon, is it? I've scarcely had a moment to check the time, I must admit.'

Fudge gestured grandly to a grandfather clock standing sentry in a corner. 'Only just, Dumbledore, only just,' he assured with a magnanimous smile. 'And I dare say you've had a productive morning. I hear you have been making the rounds.'

Albus smiled. 'Then I presume you know why I am here.'

'Sit, sit,' Fudge invited, shuffling around to claim the large leather chair behind his desk. Albus took the chair opposite with a nod.

Though his robes had barely settled, Fudge made as though to stand again, twirling his hat on one finger. 'Tea? Something stronger? A bit early, I suppose, but I have a bottle of –'

'No, thank you.'

'Right, right,' Fudge blustered, sinking back a little into the chair and setting his hat on top of a pile of paperwork. The leather gave a slightly indecent noise beneath his fidgeting weight. Fudge's cheeks reddened. 'Well then, I shan't beat about the bush, Dumbledore. I understand your – that is to say, I recognise your interest in keeping certain business from the press, of course. But surely you realise my hands are tied on the matter. You'd do better to make your calls in Diagon Alley.'

'The Prophet offices were my first visit of the day,' said Albus, still smiling. 'And the editor shall be my last. But I think we both know the Ministry has great influence with the newspaper.'

Fudge shifted uncomfortably.

'Of course, in the usual case,' Albus continued, as though oblivious to the Minister's discomfort, 'I do not believe in addressing the paltry musings of the newspaper. Such attentions only breed further interest, as well you know.'

Fudge coughed. 'Indeed, indeed, Dumbledore. Quite clever. Give them an inch, and all that…'

The headmaster twinkled benevolently. 'Quite. But you must understand, Cornelius. Between the – ah – irregularities in the tournament selection this year and the Prophet's sensationalism this morning, I could hardly keep my distance on this occasion.'

The Minister frowned. 'Why do I have the sense it is you who beats about the bush now, Dumbledore? This is hardly the first time the Prophet has printed a story on The Boy Who Lived. He's a public figure – one of the most public figures in the wizarding world. And what with this business surrounding his entry in the tournament… interest is bound to be high.'

'Interest is one thing,' Albus countered. 'But intrusion into my school –'

'It isn't your kingdom,' Fudge interrupted, unusually brisk. A purple memorandum that had wedged itself through the infinitesimal gap at the door shot through the air towards his nose. Fudge batted it down to the cluttered tray. 'Don't mistake me, Albus. I can understand your desire to protect the boy. But you can't keep him cossetted away from the Wizarding World forever. Reporters have an uncanny knack for getting their ears in everywhere. I should know.' He gave a snort of amusement.

'You are an elected official, Cornelius. Harry is a student, and just fourteen years of age. The situations are not comparable.'

Fudge's hand fumbled to the bowler hat playing makeshift paperweight. He began to spin it around one finger. 'Is it true then, Dumbledore?'

Albus let his face harden, ever so slightly. 'The report of the student disagreement in the Prophet was greatly exaggerated. But it contains enough that I am certain its reporter disobeyed my instruction regarding security of the school and her charges. Which is precisely why –'

'You know that's not what I meant,' Fudge blustered impatiently. 'Is it true what she says of Potter's abilities? That the boy can do wandless magic, so young? That you have been, er, assisting him in this endeavour?'

Albus stared calmly back. 'She exaggerates,' he repeated. 'Even mature wizards perform acts of magic without their wand under stressful circumstances. And Harry is not without emotion, nor without natural talent. But I assure you, Cornelius, I am not instructing him in the use of wandless magic.'

Fudge chewed at the side of his cheek, looking as though he could not decide whether he was relieved or disappointed at this news. 'And do you think that's how he defeated You Know Who?'

Albus smiled again. 'I'm not sure we will ever know all that went into the events of that night, my friend. But I do not think an infant feat of wandless spellwork brought about Lord Voldemort's fall.'

The Minister flinched. But, this time, there was no mistaking the relaxation of his shoulders. Vague disquiet stirred in Albus's stomach.

Fudge sighed. 'Well, I'm not sure what you would have me do, Dumbledore. I can speak to Magical Law Enforcement – though from what I hear you've been by their department already. But what Ms Skeeter did wasn't exactly illegal, was it? Unethical, perhaps…'

'I do not come to force your action,' said Albus. 'But rather to inform you of my own. The Daily Prophet is no longer to send reporters to the school to cover the events of the tournament, except for the tasks themselves. There will be no eliciting interviews with any of my students, nor speaking to the champions outside of such events where supervision may be provided. As for Ms Skeeter – she is prohibited from entering the grounds entirely. I will not have my students subjected to the speculation of her quill.'

Fudge gave a pained smile. 'That will be a hard bargain to drive with the press, Dumbledore. And don't you think it a tad unreasonable? Mr Potter is hardly the first to endure Rita Skeeter's scrutiny. His family have not written to raise an objection, have they?'

'His Muggle family,' Albus reminded the Minister pointedly, 'Are not aware of the Prophet or its reach. But I can assure you that Lily and James, had they lived, would not have addressed this matter with the half the cordiality I have attempted. And so long as Harry is at Hogwarts, he is under the protection of the school and my own responsibility.'

The Minister waved a nervous hand. 'The boy can take a bit of press, surely. After all, what is it your always saying, Dumbledore? Children are amazingly resilient.'

Albus fixed the Minister for Magic with a pointed stare over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. 'Yes, Cornelius,' he agreed. 'Children are amazingly resilient. Until they are not.'

The Minister's bowler hat fumbled in its spin, dropping to the floor. Albus rose, doffing his own hat and fixing a polite smile back on his face.

'With what influence this office may have, I'd ask that you see to it The Prophet sends no more reporters flocking about my school. The next time, I'm afraid I cannot promise to be quite so polite.'

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sirius re-entered the parlour backwards, bumping the door open with his hip and hauling something large and wrapped in green velvet.

'She threatened to maim me if I put so much as a scratch on it,' he muttered in irritable explanation at Harry's raised eyebrow. 'Not supposed to leave the castle, apparently.'

Before Harry could enquire further, Sirius placed his bundle on the tea table with a heavy, dull thud. Harry reached to uncover it, but Sirius slapped his hand away.

'Not yet. There's a prelude.'

Harry scowled. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Sirius took a seat next to him on the sofa again and sighed. 'You remember what I told you back at the Shrieking Shack? About the time in fifth year that I – er – decided to help Snape find out what Remus was up to at the full moon every month?'

Harry's gaze narrowed. 'You mean the time you basically sent another student you didn't like to face certain death, nearly made your best friend an unwitting murderer, and could have got yourself chucked into Azkaban? Yeah, I remember the story.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'So dramatic. He wasn't going to die. A snivelling little arse he may have been, but he wasn't a total moron. He'd have figured a way to slither out of trouble as usual.'

'You don't know that,' Harry argued.

'I do. Or I thought I did, anyway. Honestly, I didn't think he'd actually enter the tunnel at all. I thought he'd prod the knot, hear the noises of the transformation when he poked his head in, soil himself and hightail it back to the castle. It never crossed my mind he'd be thick enough to take it further than that.' He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 'The things he'd been saying to Remus… and about Remus… I wanted him to pay for it. I wanted him to get some comeuppance for butting in where he wasn't welcome. I wanted him terrified. I never meant him to get hurt in the process.'

'But he could have been,' Harry countered, unknowingly parroting James. 'He could have been killed, Sirius.'

Sirius plucked at a loose thread on the cushion. 'And that's the point. We were young, Harry. I didn't think it all through. It was a mistake.'

'You mean you were a complete knobhead.'

Sirius growled, reaching to muss his hair. Harry ducked out of the way. But some of his rancour had given way to a hint of amusement, and Sirius took the small victory.

'We were all knobheads,' he conceded. 'Me more than most, maybe. But people change, kid. They grow. It wasn't the first time I did something stupid and it certainly wasn't the last… but believe me, I paid for it. Dumbledore nearly expelled me and Minerva shouted herself hoarse. I had detention for two months. James ripped into me like you wouldn't believe. And neither he nor Remus spoke to me for half the term.'

'It was… the loneliest I'd ever been,' he admitted with a sigh. 'And the worst bit of it was, it was my stupidity that put me there, and I knew it. Put me in a really dark place, those months did.'

'Is this supposed to make me feel better? That you fell out with your best mates because of something dumb you did? Sirius – what happened with Ron wasn't my fault! I didn't put my name in –'

'I know, Harry,' Sirius assured him again, raising both hands palms out in recognition of the anger's return. 'I know. That's not what I mean at all.'

'Then why are you telling me this now?'

'You just… you need to know that, before I show you this.' He whipped the makeshift cover off the object on the tea table. And the two of them were left staring at a familiar, shallow stone basin.

Harry frowned at it. 'Why've you got the Penseive?'

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. 'I fancied a really big omelette. Why do you think, kid?'

Harry backed up on the sofa, still frowning. 'I'm not really sure I'm in the mood for memories today. Don't you think we've enough going on in the present?'

'Exactly,' Sirius agreed, pulling his wand from his sleeve. 'Which is why you need the distraction. Besides, this isn't one you already have. You're getting the fresh goods today.'

He pressed the tip of the wand to his temple with his left hand, concentrating hard. As he pulled it back again, a thin strand of gossamer silver followed. Sirius detached it from the wand with a flourish and let it pool and swirl in the basin beneath. Harry's face – curious in spite of himself – was bathed in an eerie glow. Sirius smiled.

'Come on, then. Haven't got all afternoon.'

He placed a hand between Harry's shoulder blades. And, together, they fell into the past.

They landed in a long, wide corridor. Shadows danced along the walls, catching in the corners of handsome oak panels and the edges of several woven tapestries. A house-elf polished a suit of armour set in an archway near the end of the scarlet runner carpet. Two portraits hung opposite one another were having a muttered argument over the properties of amethyst. On a credenza to their right, several more modern photographs sat in golden frames.

Harry shrugged off the hand Sirius still held against his back, looking around in cautious curiosity. 'Where are we?' he whispered.

Sirius chuckled. 'Nobody else can hear you, kid,' he reminded him. 'And look there.'

He nodded at the credenza. Harry moved towards it sceptically. He peered at the nearest frame.

'That's the quidditch pitch,' he muttered. 'At Hogwarts…'

A figure on a broom darted past in scarlet robes, vanishing through the edge of the frame. Three green blurs shot after him.

'Is that –'

The scarlet figure reappeared again, this time clutching the Quaffle under an arm. With an almighty, silent roar, he threw it directly at their faces. Blurry people in the background stands began jumping up and down, waving microscopic banners.

Harry grinned. 'Dad,' he whispered incredulously, touching the side of the frame with a finger. 'But… this isn't the cottage in Godric's Hollow. Or Grimmauld Place. Who else would have these…'

'No,' Sirius agreed. 'But your father didn't always live in Godric's Hollow, Harry. At least, not full time.'

Harry whirled. 'We're – this is my dad's home?'

Sirius joined him at the credenza, running a hand along the familiar antique oak. He smiled faintly at an older photograph at the back of the group, where Euphemia was attempting and failing to feed a baby James mushy peas. 'Did Albus not tell you?'

Harry's eyes travelled hungrily, taking in every moment captured before them in semi-frozen eternity. 'He did. But kind of in passing. I… I've never seen it – any of it – before.'

'Hmm,' said Sirius, looking sideways at him. The house-elf moved past them down the corridor, humming quietly to himself as he dusted the squabbling portraits. 'Well, there isn't much to see just now, I'm afraid. James had the house shut up after your grandparents died. He never lived there with Lily. He always talked of selling but…' he shrugged. 'I'm not sure he could have done, not really. James grew up in Godric's Hollow, for the most part. They didn't use the manor until he was older, after his own grandparents had passed. Still, it was a family home. And family meant everything to your father.'

Harry brushed a suspicious hand under his eye. Sirius pretended not to notice.

'Ah, there I am!' he exclaimed proudly, pointing to a photograph right of centre. Two boys in that awkward stage between childhood and teenage years laughed from the frame – their faces mud-spattered and their robes ripped at the elbows.

Harry smiled at the picture. But then his brows knit together. 'Yeah… there you are. But where are you?' He looked about the corridor suspiciously. 'How can we be here, if you – your past self, or whatever – isn't?'

Sirius laughed bitterly. 'I'm here alright,' he promised, nodding his head in the opposite direction of the suit of armour, where the long corridor twisted into candleless shadow. 'And James will be too. In about… oh, sixty seconds or so.'

Harry squinted into the dark. 'How can you be sure?'

'My memory,' Sirius reminded him. 'And if it serves, I'm about to frighten Maestro.'

Sure enough, the words had barely left his mouth when candles flamed to life in the previously dark sconces that had hidden half the corridor. The elf's faint humming gave way to a squawk.

'No dogs!' he shrieked, flapping his duster in horror at the crouched figure of a black dog that was attempting to scramble out from under a divan. 'Messy, messy dogs tracking mud over –'

The elf broke off with a gasp, as the dog transformed before his eyes. The duster clattered to the floor. It sneezed, expelling a tiny cloud of grey mist.

'Mr Black!' the elf exclaimed. 'What is – what is you doing here, sir? And at this time of night? And as a –'

'New party trick,' interrupted the teenage Sirius, his voice hoarse and breaking. 'Sorry to, er, barge in and all. I was going to… well,' he sighed thickly. 'You know what, it doesn't matter. It's late. I – I'll just be –'

He broke off, coughing harshly into a fist. The little elf regarded him with pity, all affront forgotten.

'You is unwell, Mr Black,' he said in a kinder voice. 'Shall I wake the Mistress?'

'No! No – don't do that,' young Sirius pleaded, clearing his throat. 'I'm not ill… it's just, really cold out tonight. I'll be fine, I –'

But he did not look fine. He looked worse, in fact, than Sirius had remembered, this stranger who had once been him. He recalled the cold of the night – how it had settled into his very bones before he'd even reached Paddington, slowed by his copious fur but aided by the torrential rain. He remembered how his numb fingers had fumbled for what few Muggle coins he'd been able to summon with a bit of illegal wandwork on his way to the ticket window; the piteous look and offer of tea from the kindly woman who'd been sat across the aisle on the bus, and the three wailing children in patched trousers clinging to her that had forced his refusal. The tedious hours of Muggle transport, his fury the only thing that kept him from freezing as London fell away mile by mile. Getting lost three times on his way from the station trying to find the house on his own.

He had forgotten, though, how badly he'd marred the carpet with rainwater and mud. He had forgotten the red eyes and the broken voice and the coughing. And he had forgotten the shaking he just could not quell; how tightly he'd had to wrap his arms across his chest to keep himself together.

He remembered everything that had led him here. But all he recalled from the moment of arrival was relief, and fear.

'Sirius…' Harry said quietly from his right.

He turned his head, but Harry did not appear to be calling to him. He too was watching the broken figure in the corridor, beardless and somewhat shorter than his grown counterpart, with shoulders that had not yet broadened to bear the weight that loomed. The younger Sirius was alone now. Older Sirius shook his head – he had not noticed the elf's departure.

'What happened to you?' Harry asked, this time glancing in his direction. 'Were you attacked? Fighting Voldemort?'

Sirius snorted. 'Nothing like that,' he reassured him, waving a hand. 'We were in fifth year, here. I'd only been an Animagus for a couple of months. We did some reckless shit, sure, but even we weren't facing Voldemort at sixte-'

He broke off with an inward wince. But if Harry took either offence or compliment from his runaway tongue, it did not seem to register immediately.

'If not the war, then what –'

'Sirius!'

Past Sirius, still quivering on the carpet, did not look up. But older Sirius and Harry both turned at the sharp call, watching James rush down the corridor in pyjamas and a rumpled dressing gown with his glasses askew. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of his father. And Sirius' chest tightened, fondness warring with that deep-seated grief that still threatened to consume him, even after all these years.

Past Sirius had lost the battle to stay upright. He fell to his knees on the carpet, ignoring the divan just feet away. James arrived in time to clasp him under the elbows and slow his descent.

'Sirius! What in Merlin's – are you alright? Hey – hey!' He shook him slightly, taking a knee and more of the other teenager's weight. 'What –'

'Sorry… I'm so sorry,' the other muttered, still staring at the floor. 'I wouldn't have come if… I shouldn't have come, but –'

He broke off, coughing again. Sirius and Harry watched him make a feeble attempt to pull away. James only held tighter.

'You're a right mess,' he clucked, pushing some of Sirius' lank hair away from his face. 'And you're bloody freezing. Just how long were you wandering about in the storm?'

'Not long,' said Sirius quietly to James' knees. 'I was on a bus most of the way.'

'A bus?' James echoed. 'Why on earth –'

The house-elf reappeared with a crack, offering out a tottering heap of blankets.

'Thanks,' said James, balancing Sirius upright with one hand whilst he grabbed the thickest blanket from the middle of the house-elf's stack. Most of the remainder immediately toppled over. 'Oops… Sorry, Maestro.'

James flung the blanket over Sirius' shaking shoulders. He snatched one more before the house-elf could clear them away and folded it the other way across Sirius' chest, so that he looked rather like an ill-made burrito.

'A bus?' he repeated.

Sirius sniffed. 'Didn't think it likely they'd be searching Muggle transport, if they bothered coming after me.'

'If who came after you?' both James and Harry asked.

Older Sirius waved a quelling hand at his Potter companion. Younger Sirius did not answer directly, but pulled himself to his feet with considerable effort.

'I shouldn't have come,' he mumbled. 'I'm sorry. I know you don't want –'

'Don't be daft, mate,' said James, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder again. 'You're a right prat, you know that. And I'm not going to pretend I'm not royally pissed off. But… you're you. And I'm me. And I don't care how much of an idiot you've been. You come here when you're in trouble, understand?' When Sirius continued to stare at the ground, James pulled his face roughly upright with his other hand. 'You come here. You hear me?'

Sirius gave a sniff, and a very slight smile. 'Yeah. Yeah, I hear you.'

James cracked a wan smile of his own. He clapped his hand once against Sirius' cheek, and dropped it. 'Right then. Sit down, for Merlin's sake. You're making me want to keel over just looking at you.'

He half-pushed Sirius onto the ready divan. The helpful elf reappeared with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, pressing it into Sirius' hands. 'Shall I wake your parents, Master James?'

Sirius choked on a mouthful of chocolate. James shook his head. 'Not just now, Maestro, but thank you.'

The elf gave Sirius a wary glance before apparating away. James' eyes never left his friend. 'So now that's sorted – are you going to tell me who chased you through a hurricane?'

'I had a row with my parents tonight,' younger Sirius admitted to the carpet. 'A big one. There were hexes – theirs mostly; and fists – mine, mostly… couple of walls might never recover.' He gave a wheezy, humourless chuckle. 'And then I left. I bloody left.'

He sniffed heavily again and took a sip of the chocolate. James sank onto the divan next to him, but said nothing.

'I was halfway to King's Cross before I thought, if I went back to school in the middle of Easter holidays… well, dad might've come right up and dragged me out again. So I went to Paddington instead. Caught a Muggle bus most of the way and then – you can probably work out the rest.'

He shrugged. The blanket burrito fell partly off his left shoulder.

'And I know we're not talking and all. And that's my fault. And Remus… But I just, I couldn't think where else to go, and –'

'Shut up,' James interrupted. 'Just shut up and drink your chocolate.'

Sirius took another shaky sip. James pulled the fallen blanket straight again.

'I meant what I said before,' he said quietly. 'You can always come here, Sirius. And everything with Remus… we'll work it out. We always do.'

They sat for a long moment in silence. Even Harry did not break it, though he shot older Sirius several awkward glances.

'I can't go back,' young Sirius whispered at last. 'I can't. Not ever, Jamie. Not after…'

James gripped his shoulder hard. 'You don't have to. Dad'll get your stuff in the morning.'

Sirius coughed a laugh. 'I've always wanted to be out of that damn house. Away from them. It's all I dreamt of,' he gestured vaguely to his pathetic state. 'Cheers to homelessness.'

His breath hitched again. But this time, it wasn't coughing he broke into. James wrenched him closer, throwing both arms around him in an embrace, and let Sirius sob openly into his shoulder.

'You'll always have a home, Padfoot,' he promised fiercely. 'Home isn't a place or a house or a sodding family name. It's the people who will always have your back, mate. No matter what comes. The people who love you.'

The sobbing increased. 'I'm sorry,' Sirius choked out again. 'I'm so sorry…'

'I know,' James promised. 'I'm sorry too.'

The two of them remained on the divan, a tangle of tears and brotherhood, saying nothing. Beside him, Sirius heard Harry's breath thicken in response. He leant up against the wall, watching the scene with that same conflicted weight wrapped round his heart. He wondered if that would ever fade.

'I'm so sorry,' Harry echoed, looking stricken as he found Sirius' gaze again. 'I mean, you told me before this, but… your parents. That's – I'm so –'

'Don't be,' Sirius cut in firmly. 'Leaving was one of the best things I've ever done. I don't regret it and I never did, not even then.'

Harry gave a hesitant nod.

'I wanted to hate him, you know,' Sirius admitted quietly.

'Your father?' Harry asked in the same hush.

Sirius shook his head. 'No. Yours.'

Harry whipped around, his eyebrows almost in his hairline. 'What? But you two were best friends. Why would you want to hate him?'

Sirius gave a small shrug. 'Because he was like me. But a version of me that was better, in almost every sense. He was better at Quidditch. Better in lessons, most of the time. A better friend. A better man, with a better conscience. Better with women… well, no. I was better with women. James was hopeless,' he amended with a wink.

Harry did not smile.

Sirius turned at a small noise from the opposite end of the corridor. He nodded to the corner where the suit of armour stood sentry. An older witch in a nightcap and a tall wizard with round glasses peered round, watching the scene on the divan with soft eyes. The man began to clear his throat, and the woman pressed a lightning-fast hand to his lips, shaking her head vigorously.

'He had parents who gave a shit; parents who loved him,' Sirius added, surprising himself at the lump that rose in his throat as he said it. 'Parents who didn't hesitate to open their home and their hearts to some smartarse kid from town, even before he moved in without warning.'

Fleamont and Euphemia watched the two boys for only another moment, slipping away before either could take notice.

'And I did stupid things – really stupid things – more often than I should have. Sometimes just because I needed something to be better at.'

He faced Harry again with a sigh. 'I wanted to hate him sometimes,' he repeated. 'But I never could. Because all those things he was and all those things he had, they weren't his fault. And he shared them without question, always.'

Harry scrubbed a hand against his face. Sirius pulled him close, holding him against his shoulder, much as James Potter had once comforted another boy who had been wrung of all he had. They stayed that way, still against the wall of memory, for a long time. Sirius didn't push it. Behind them on the sofa, neither did James. And for the first time since they had entered the memory, Sirius felt the weight against his heart ease, just a fraction.

At last, Harry broke the embrace himself. 'Sorry,' he muttered, pressing the heels of hands into his eyes. 'I don't know why – I'm not usually this wrecked. It's just been a really, really bad week.'

Sirius chuckled. 'I don't think it'd be quite fair of me to pass judgment,' he pointed out, nodding at his younger self, still sobbing on the sofa. 'But we can go – this continues in the same vein until Euphemia comes back with a sleeping potion. And I stay basically a blubbering mess the whole time.'

Harry nodded. Sirius took his hand.

Moments later, they were back in the bright sitting room of the house he had once fled on a Muggle bus.

'That was… intense,' Harry observed, letting go of his hand and throwing himself backwards onto the sofa.

'Yep,' Sirius agreed, popping the 'p'. 'Remus would be pleased. He's always banging on that you have to talk through the emotions thing. Look how much I've grown.'

He pulled a bottle of whisky from the air, swigging a sizable gulp as he took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. He shook his head briskly when it burned down his throat. Harry raised an eyebrow. 'I'd offer you some, but I think we've broken enough rules today.'

Harry took his teacup back from the table instead. Sirius waved his wand over it to freshen the heating charm. 'So… you think Ron wants to hate me sometimes?'

'I think Ron is your James. Or – you're James and Ron is me. Or… you know what, it doesn't matter.' He set the whisky down and rested his elbows on his knees. 'The point is, he's human. And he makes stupid mistakes. I can get that. And I also get why it hurts you so much. It's how I hurt James. Remus too, for that matter. It's how Peter hurt all of us.'

Harry's fingers played on the rim of the cup. But he was watching Sirius expectantly.

'I loved him,' said Sirius with a sad smile. 'More than I can possibly explain. He was the brother I'd never truly had. But that's the thing of it, kid. Nobody can hurt us quite so well as the people we love. They're already in, you see. Enemies don't know the true you; and so they can't wound where it matters. But the people we let inside – the ones who know our souls – if they turn on you, they can end you. I should know better than anyone.'

Harry sniffed, but the tears did not start up again. 'Then why even bother letting them in in the first place?'

Sirius ruffled his hair. 'Because without them, we're already lost.'

Harry sighed and drained the last of his tea. 'So… what do I do about it then? Because I tried blowing up at him, and that went nowhere.'

Sirius nodded. 'This isn't on you, Harry. It's his mess to fix. And he will try when sense comes back to him – I promise. What you do with it when he does… that's your choice, and yours alone.'

Harry pushed the Pensieve further into the table with the toe of his sock. 'Dad forgave you.'

Sirius snorted. 'He did. He never brought it up again, after I turned up that night. But you might ask Remus for some tips instead if you're looking for a bit of grovelling. I don't remember that bridge to have been mended quite so quickly.'

Harry gave a true laugh, kicking Sirius' elbow off his knee.

'Good afternoon.'

The words came quiet and light from the threshold of the room. Both Sirius and Harry turned. Albus stood in the doorframe, a little wearier and a little more lined than Sirius was used to. But a gentle smile graced his face as he nodded to the Pensieve set upon the table.

'You look as though you've spent your day productively.'

'More or less,' Sirius quipped back.

The headmaster spared the hint of a wink. But his eyes never left Harry's as he crossed the threadbare carpet to join them, standing behind the sofa. He placed an age-spotted hand gently on Harry's shoulder. Some of the tension that had kept the boy's back up the entirety of the day seemed to melt, and he relaxed into Albus's grip. And though it was probably silly, and certainly petty, the simple interaction caused a pang of loss deep in Sirius' chest.

Albus was back and already resuming his place, and Harry was responding before he even spoke; and without fanfare, without order, without comment, Sirius was once again relegated to his supporting role.

The changing of the guard had come.

Sirius smiled as he rose from the sofa, clapping Harry's knee. 'I'll leave you two to catch up on the day's events and see about dinner, shall I?'

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Review Responses, Chapter 38

BlueWater5: Thank you for reading and for the review! Great to see you back, and I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. I think having a few more champions should make things interesting… I look forward to sharing how that will shake out. And yes – Harry had definitely been warned. Now he'll have to deal with the consequences. I hope you like where we go next, and stay safe and well!

Rose098: Thank you for reading and for the review! Very happy to hear you enjoyed the chapter. Tonks and Remus' first real meeting is a moment I've looked forward to for some time – and I'm glad you liked their banter and her characterisation. The six champions was an idea I went back and forth on quite a bit before beginning Part III, but ultimately I think I found a way to make it work (we'll see how readers like it as the tasks unfold!). Jan we know a bit, of course, and Natalia will add some interesting elements herself, or so I hope. Glad you enjoyed the scene with Minerva, Albus and Severus… very different views on things as they unfold, but ultimately similar goals. Ah, Harry's reached his boiling point! I agree it was well-deserved, though of course it had consequences that poor Harry did not consider… as we see brought forth in Rita's article. I can't wait to explore the fall-out from that. I hope you'll like the next instalment, and keep safe and well!

Boothbonesrule: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you liked this last chapter. It will, I hope, be fun to see how Rita's exposé affects our characters and the story moving forward – there are certainly consequences expected and (likely) unexpected from this turn of course. Severus was certainly a bit unfair to Harry in his fury herein (not that he didn't have some reason), but we'll see about fallout with Draco. As he hinted to Harry in the last chapter, Severus isn't without eyes or ears – and though he doesn't often discipline his house in front of others, we have seen that he can be very tough on them (and Draco particularly) in the past, and he will have a thing or two to say on this latest contretemps. I hope you enjoy where we go next, and stay safe and well!

MotherBear: Thank you for reading and reviewing – it was very fun to watch your reread of the series as well! I'll try to address each of your reviews herein.

On Chapter 13… Ah, Gellert's vision of the elder wand's master. Is it Harry, or does he know/think it is? At the time of the flashback, no. He certainly believes in that moment that he is seeing himself, Albus and Ariana. In the present time that view has changed, though we'll have to wait a bit to see just how. It isn't clear whether he knows that Harry has the cloak (stay tuned), although he does know that the stone is unaccounted for. As to who actually is in that vision… we shall see. On deaths – some that occur in canon will occur in COH; some that die in canon will be spared in COH; and some that are alive in canon will perish in this tale.

On Chapter 14… This scene was sad for me to write too. Minerva and Augusta don't know what's coming down the road, but there is a certain pall all the same.

On Chapter 18… Yes, Albus may not have known precisely what occurred, but he realised that Harry was in great distress and could feel Snape's aggression and guilt. The fact that he'd just come from Grindelwald certainly did not improve his own temper.

Chapter 22… Ah, Nagini. In truth, I started down this road before her status as a Maledictus was confirmed in the films, though the hints were heavy before the premiere of Crimes of Grindelwald, so I cannot take credit for the theory. However, she has a very interesting past that will play heavily into COH – particularly where it concerns Albus. I shan't wish to spoil the films for you, but I will reveal that as of the end of the second film, she is very much on the 'light' side against Grindelwald. How it comes to pass that seventy years later she is at Voldemort's right hand is a tragic tale that we will be exploring in COH.

Chapter 38… Hmm, I must say I was a bit confused – the poisoner wasn't unmasked in this chapter, though I wonder from your comments who you thought was revealed? Unless perhaps that theory was directed at a previous scene – for I do admit there have been some heavy hints dropped in this book so far. I can tell you that more than one character now knows the culprit's identity.

Ah, Moody and Crouch. Well, I cannot tell you how the end game plays out with the tournament in COH obviously… but I will say that there are clues hidden in many chapters along the way as to what is occurring, and/or whether Moody is indeed Moody. I will also say that the end game will play out differently in my version than it did in canon.

Tonks. One of the most interesting additions to play with. Though of course we've seen her a few times in COH already, this is the first time that we've truly had her as part of the 'group', with her official introduction to the Order. I had a lot of fun exploring her personality – and the scene between her and Remus in the kitchen I had been sitting on since 2017! It needed a bit of updating given what's evolved over the past three years… but largely the original content remained. I'm not sure I'd say she's necessarily 'interested' in Remus herein – more that she's somewhat outgoing and flirtatious by nature, and rather enjoys putting him in an uncomfortable position. They're a bit too new to each other's acquaintance to have romantic feelings at this stage.

And Rita. She throws a huge spanner in the works here at the end, of course. One of my favourite ways to end a chapter thus far. Yes, Harry is lucky that her motive right now is to paint Harry as a heroic figure… but, as we all know, heroes can quickly turn to villains in the press. Things are certainly about to get very, very messy.

Glad you have caught up with the story, and I hope you enjoy where we go next! Stay safe and well!

MoonshineMadame: Thank you for reading and reviewing, and welcome back! It's lovely to see that you've had a chance to rediscover the story, and I'm most happy to have you back in the discussion again! Great to hear that you're still enjoying it.

Ooh, I'm very glad you liked the Philosopher's Stone flashback. I'd written that quite a bit ago (a lot of the flashbacks I tend to sit on for a while; this was also true of the James scene a few chapters ago) – but I finally felt it fit into our tale in that particular chapter. I thought it would be interesting to see Albus and Harry before the headmaster had taken him in, and to explore a bit of what happened whilst Harry was unconscious. There was also an important introduction of an aspect of magic in that flashback that we will see again.

I'm glad you're still enjoying Albus and Minerva and their scenes together. They understand each other on a deep and very intimate level – and that strength is very important to the bond they share and the development of both their characters. You are right that it doesn't always take big, grand scenes to explore that. As to the slip of parchment with Harry's name that she took – yes, it was because she understood Albus and his history, and though she had already explained why he couldn't do what she feared he would with it, she also knows him enough that she removed the temptation. It isn't the same note that she later gives Severus – that one is actually the location of Grimmauld Place written in Albus' hand (the Secret, as it were, since Albus is the Secret Keeper of the location and Severus has not yet been brought into the secret; that's why he asks Minerva whether Albus left it with her when he took off). As to Albus' history with magical contracts… this relates to his history with Grindelwald and the 'blood pact' they made, and it will be explored more fully in future.

Oh I'm so glad that you've felt the development of Harry's relationships with Albus and Minerva has grown naturally – that was definitely my intent and hope! One of my biggest pet hates in storytelling – fanfic or otherwise – is when a character does a complete turn-about or rushes into emotion that feels forced or contrived, and it was something I really sought to avoid when writing this series. You are right that Harry perhaps doesn't realise just how much he means to Albus; or rather, he knows in theory… but he is a child who was long deprived of love and security, and it takes a great deal to trust in love after that sort of neglect. He has made great strides over the past three years, and he isn't as closed-off or forcibly independent as he is in canon by this point, but those sorts of emotional scars are long in healing. And Albus, though he clearly loves Harry very much, has his own history that has for years guarded his heart. Though he shows Harry much care and love and certainly fierce protection, much of the time his most unguarded assertions come in his internal thoughts, or to Minerva, once to Aberforth and even to Gellert. A careful reading will reveal that while he assures Harry of his feelings many times, the only time he actually flat-out says 'I love you' is in the very last chapter of Part I, when he is revealing to Harry why he must send him back to the Dursleys. Albus has no doubt of his own feelings, of course, but perhaps he does not realise just how much children need to hear it… even if they know it to be true.

Oh the Skeeter article is going to have major, major implications for our characters. Much of this next chapter will deal with the immediate repercussions, but it will have impact on a great deal of our story moving forward. Ai, I do feel rather bad for all the angst and burden I have put poor Harry through in this book thus far… but alas, it cannot be helped. My unofficial Beta Lizzie has complained that poor Harry has been too often sick or downtrodden in this book and she longs for a bit of a reprieve.

I'm glad you've enjoyed the teachers' backstories too. I've a document going on my computer that's like twenty pages of notes and theories on the teachers' lives outside of Hogwarts… and every once in a while, I try to weave bits of it into the narrative where it seems to fit. Some is just for background colour, but some of it will have deeper implications in the story (including Bathsheda's maternity, as you'll find out shortly). I'm happy to hear you've liked Moody's characterisation too! He's been a fun one to explore, and I hope he's enjoyable to read. And Snape. Ah, the greyest character of all, and the most divisive in canon. You're right though – he is a git… but he does care, whether he's fully aware of it yet or not. Sirius and Remus – again, I am very pleased that you've like how they're portrayed herein thus far. Having them as POV characters has been sometimes challenging, but I enjoy writing them both. We'll see in this next chapter how they react to the Skeeter drama. I think you'll be unsurprised by some of it… but perhaps surprised by other aspects.

Tonks! I commented on her a bit in response to the last reviewer, which you might have seen, but I do love writing her. I've always found her character interesting, and I'm very glad you've enjoyed her. Yes, we will definitely meet Andromeda in this series – I wanted to hint at her relationship with Sirius' family here as a sort of preview, but she'll appear in person a bit later. I'm glad you liked the very, very awkward conversation in the kitchen – and I can promise that we will see a great deal more of her as the story moves forward. As we have adult perspectives in this tale, many members of the Order of the Phoenix will get to play a greater role in the story.

Very happy, again, that you have caught up and are enjoying the story! Stay safe and well, and enjoy the next instalment!

Estel Ashlee Snape: Thanks for reading and for the review! I'm glad you liked the chapter. Yes… poor Harry was not thinking with particular care when he went down this road – and he'll have to face the consequences now. I hope you'll like how our characters deal with the fall-out and the continuation of our story in the next instalment! Stay safe and well!

Nevercalmenough: Thank you for reading and reviewing, and welcome to the COH journey! So wonderful to hear that you discovered the series – and it's particularly lovely that you did it through a community! My thanks to whoever added it there. And thank you for taking the time to read through the whole series – I know it's a huge time commitment (brevity has never been my strong suit). I'm very pleased and humbled to hear you've liked it so much.

Never worry to share things that you don't agree with or have questions about – the discourse between author and readers in the fanfic world is one of the advantages of this platform, and I don't take any offence (unless it's just a troll, in which case I try to ignore, lol). It's impossible, as I am quickly learning, to please everyone of course, since most HP fans have differing preferences and views, but I am always interested to hear what readers think and particularly when there is something that I can act upon or improve (or if it's something that perhaps has been incorrectly interpreted, in which case perhaps I need to clarify in the text).

Albus/Minerva is definitely one such controversial pairing. I knew in writing this that some would love it, and others vehemently disagree. I'm glad you enjoyed the way their scenes were portrayed even if you don't like the pairing generally. And I do think that JKR intentionally made Albus quite asexual by the time we reached the Harry Potter series timeline – something I did change for COH. As to Grindelwald and Albus… that is interesting. I've tried to avoid commenting directly on the nature of their past relationship, because it will be revealed more fully as things shake out in Part III – but I will say that your impressions of their interactions are precisely how you should be feeling. What precisely their relationship has been in the past will be further explored. On Sirius and Marlene – it's not a pairing I've seen before (though I'm sure in the thousands of other fics out there it has appeared somewhere), but certainly it may not be for everyone. As I'm sure you've gathered from this past chapter in particular, I'm not shipping Sirius/Remus in this particular fic, though I know it's a popular pairing and I'm all for readers having their own head-canons on the issue. As to Remus and Tonks… we'll see. I have had several friends comment on how much they like them, and several others (including my unofficial beta) beg me not to go there. Harry's future pairings I always refuse to confirm or deny, though it is by far the most common question I get from readers and – oddly – from my husband. Everyone seems to have a different favourite, lol, and some match my own… I hope that when we get there, people will enjoy how things shake out.

On the changing conditions and the changes that are subsequently wrought in certain characters… it's definitely a subjective opinion, and I think you make salient points. The spiders – yes, perhaps Harry might have informed Minerva first… but he's still young and still (as I actually talked about in a different response above) suffering from some emotional scars from childhood that are difficult to remove. Over time, he definitely starts to trust in adults more than he did in canon, but the incident with the spiders happens in Part I and just after Albus is removed from the school to his great devastation, and his thinking is not particularly clear at the time. His going after Sirius early in Part II, meanwhile, is definitely one of his dumbest mistakes – and directly related to his simmering temper and desire for answers at the time: a character flaw that haunts him both here and in canon. He lets his hot head get in the way of his good sense, ultimately putting himself in great danger. You are spot on that Harry's core won't change, though over time he does learn to trust adults more than he does in canon, and certain elements of his character and magic are tempered or developed earlier and/or differently because of the influences of the adults he is closer to in COH than in canon.

Ooh Grindelwald. Ah, I wish I could share a bit more here than I can, but I'll try to address it carefully. Grindelwald isn't exactly Albus' inner voice, but his voice definitely plagues Albus. He is, in many ways, his equal and his foil – a prospect that gives Albus great trepidation both in canon and in COH. It isn't so much that Grindelwald's advice or warning gives Albus pain, it's that Grindelwald is – most of the time – voicing aloud what Albus already knows; and facing that pain baldly is what is so crushing to Albus. Yet he is a bit masochistic, because he does often go to Grindelwald when he is thinking of these painful truths – almost as if by having such things voiced to him by another, he can put some distance between the truth he knows and the idea that it is some sort of evil machination of his own mind. Having said all this, the Grindelwald-Albus plot is much deeper, darker and more twisted than we have yet explored. Gellert should disgust readers in many ways – he is dangerous and calculated, and he certainly isn't helping Albus just for the diversion of it. In many ways, he is just as much or more of a villain than Voldemort. His biggest moment is still a way off… but everything he has done is in service of a larger plan. Meanwhile, as we will soon learn, Albus has much on his agenda that he has kept from Gellert thus far – particularly where Tom Riddle is concerned.

I'm glad you've liked the different POVs and the voices of the characters – it's been one of the most enjoyable aspects of writing this tale for me. The flashbacks are also some of my favourite scenes, though including so many has at times also been divisive among some readers. Good to hear that you've enjoyed Harry's extra lessons too – as much of them will have implications as the story moves forward. I've tried very hard to keep to what I consider the 'rules of magic' in HP, and it's nice to hear that it seems to be working within the story. As to where the new information/magic comes from – the answer is rather a mix. Since before beginning Part I of this story, I have kept a huge anthology of documents and notes on everything from herbs and plant properties to ancient religions to spellwork research… and those form my 'bible' for much of the new material. Definitely the canon books, Pottermore insight and various JKR interviews in the past have affected both the rules and the new material, and made their way into my notes and plans. A lot of it is also based upon mythology – particularly Celtic and Norse mythology – British and Irish folklore (especially Arthurian legend), and history. I tend to take bits and pieces that work for me from a lot of these sources, and embellish and elaborate from my own creation to suit the purpose that I want for the story. Sometimes this can lead down quite a rabbit hole (I remember spending one memorable week-end poring over the history of Albanian mountains… and another whilst heavily pregnant reading some 19th century discourse on the meanings of particular woods). But I've always enjoyed the research.

I'm glad you've liked the developments with Albus, Severus and Harry. The Albus and Harry relationship in particular is, in many ways, the core of COH… but in many ways all three of them are children of Hogwarts – and she has shaped their characters and their paths in different ways. Although I think that canon-Albus also loved Harry, COH sees their relationship develop much more into a parent-child connection (as does Minerva's). Lol no – it's not particularly easy on any of them. Snape will definitely never adopt Harry in this tale, but it is certainly true that his relationship to Harry has changed, and will continue to change, as the altered circumstances affect all our characters. You'll have to stay tuned to see just how far this is pushed! As to Albus and Severus – yes, very complicated. Severus is infinitely frustrated with him, sometimes fearful of him, and sometimes angry with him… but he is also perhaps closer to Albus than he has ever been to another wizard. He trusts him with his life, he respects him, he is grateful to him, and in many ways he loves him as well.

Thank you for sharing some of the things you've liked about this story thus far – I'm very grateful for the compliments, and very glad you're enjoying the story so much (incidentally – the scene where Albus and Sirius finally meet again in the forest was one of my favourite moments in Part II). I fear this response will indeed be quite lengthy – but I cannot be too sorry for it, as these types of interactions are some of my favourite parts of writing on this platform. :)

Yes – there will (I think) be 8 parts to this story… so we've quite a journey ahead of us. Part III will be the longest, I expect. I'm trying to keep a regular update schedule the best that I can, and hopefully we'll finish Part III by the end of the summer.

Thank you so much again for reading and for the detailed review, and welcome to the COH family! I hope you'll enjoy the next instalment, and my best for you and your loved ones to stay safe and healthy!

Guest (17 May Review): Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! So happy you've been following the series and it's great to hear from you. I'm pleased you like the story, and especially the scenes between Minerva and Harry. I will do my best to include them a bit more often for you. Glad you like Snape's progression too – his arc is one of my favourites to explore. I hope you like the newest instalment, and I hope you stay safe and healthy!

Guest (30 May review): Thank you for reading and for the review! Lol, yes – you've guessed what our characters don't yet know: Rita was indeed lurking in her beetle form. I hope you like where we go next, and that you stay safe and healthy!

Othelia: Thank you for reading and for the reviews! As to the music piece from Chapter 15… It's quite a good idea that it could be a part of Harry's Occlumency, as you're correct that it has links to Lily. I had something else in mind for the barrier Harry has been working on, but… we'll see. Perhaps I'll incorporate it somehow. Very happy that you're enjoying the story thus far and that you like the flashbacks!

Chapter 30 – thank you again for your support, and glad to hear you're still enjoying the ride. Ooh the tree symbolism/oak/Merlin and Nimue story… glad you're picking up on the breadcrumbs that carry through on this – it will have massive implications throughout COH, culminating with a twist that I'm almost bursting to share. I'm happy to hear you're enjoying it. Grindelwald – possibly my favourite non-main character to work with. He's deliciously complicated and devious, and it's always fun to map out his influence in the COH world. I'm glad you like his interplay with Albus in this story – and you are spot on about the dangers he presents. Lol – yes, poor Harry gets taken in by Moody in that lesson scene. I can't share whether Moody is indeed Moody, of course… but we shall see.

Chapter 38 – Yes, Rita has brought a whole new level of complexity here… and that will have long-reaching repercussions. I'm glad you enjoyed Remus and Tonks, and the James-Albus parallels from Chapter 37. In many ways, COH is as much about Albus learning to be Harry's father figure as it is about anything else.

Thank you again for your wonderful compliments, and I'm so happy that you've discovered and enjoyed the series. I hope you'll like where things head next. Stay safe and healthy!

French Chipmunk: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Very happy to hear that you've discovered the series and that you've enjoyed it so much – especially in these difficult times. I hope you'll like the continuation, and stay safe and well!

Hamster: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I appreciate the comments and the assistance with the French – a few readers who are native speakers have given me assistance with some of the French phrasing now, and it's very helpful. Though I probably won't revise the chapters until the book is complete as I don't want to take the time away from new chapters, I will definitely get around to it and will utilise the suggestions you've given. French is, obviously, not my native tongue, and I haven't had much occasion to use it in the past few years.

Glad to hear you're enjoying the story, and I hope you like where we go next! I'm sorry for my extensive delay… but hopefully there won't be more delays in future. Keep safe and well!

Kay: Thank you for reading and for the review! Very happy to hear you have been enjoying the story for so long, and that you like Minerva and Harry's relationship in particular. I'm sorry this instalment has taken so long, but I hope you like the next chapter! Keep safe and well!

Joellel: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Sorry this instalment took so long – but I promise the work is not abandoned. I hope you like the next chapter, and that you are keeping safe and healthy!

Themaximus: Thank you for reading and for the review! I'm very happy to hear you're still loving the series and the plot development – and in particular that you like how the tournament revelations thus far have been handled. So sorry the newest update took a while, but I hope you'll like the next chapter! Stay safe and well! PS – I did receive your PMs as well, and I sent a response earlier in the week. I hope you received this and that your questions have been answered (where I could).

K Prakrutiyay: Hello and thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm so happy to hear you've discovered the series, and I hope you will continue to enjoy it. There will definitely be more scenes between Albus and Minerva in future as well. Stay safe and well!

The Inebriated Lion-Minion: Hello and thank you for reading and for the review! So glad to hear that you've found the COH universe, and that you're enjoying the story so far. :) The six champions will definitely have an effect on our story, and I'm very excited to explore that. As for Skeeter's bombshell… the fall out from that is a key part of this chapter. I hope you'll like it, and stay safe and well!

OneDocToHealThemAll: Thank you for rereading and for the review! You've been really supportive and helpful throughout this process, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it – especially through my extended absence. I can assure you I am alive and kicking, and writing! I hope you'll like the continuation of our story, and keep safe and well!

HMRoberts: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm really happy to hear you're still enjoying the story, and I hope you'll like the continuation! Stay safe and well!

Anyeshabaner: Thank you for reading and for the review! I hope the new chapter is enjoyable for you, and that you're staying safe and well!

Bryanjames: Thank you for the message! I'm sorry to have taken so long, but I hope you'll like the continuation. Stay safe and well!

Claribeari: Thank you for reading and for the review! I apologise – I know the wait was unconscionable. But I hope you'll like where we go next. Keep safe and well!