Thanks to: Bratwurst, laceyowens50, Colin Creevey and Uzami Kisaragi for reviewing!

Questions:

Will we ever hear from the surviving hogwarts teachers?
Depends on the teacher, some yes, some no, some maybe. There's no school this book because Sal took Hogwarts

Scorpius managed to put it off for a few days, busying himself with making sure Varanian was eating and sleeping – Hogan also helped - and generally not leaving him alone to lose himself in his melancholy memories. They spent most of their time at the new base, working on plans for it. Maurice was very keen on making it larger to accommodate everyone, Varanian however was extremely wary of making magical altercations as it was more easily detected. Rutherford- who had experience in such things apparently from his work at the Ministry- was quick point out a lot of magical households had made magical altercations and there was nothing to suggest the Shadows were even looking for magical households, Varanian finally caved after they asked him to work out the logistics of how to fit the fifty-odd Gray members in the current space available without changes.

After that it was a matter of exactly what changes and how best to fit everyone with as minimal changes as possible, it wouldn't be particularly comfortable with how stingy Varanian insisted on being but it'd have to do. There was also a lot of debate of whether to alter it just to fit those currently in (or ready to go in) the base, everyone besides those in Hogan's (which unlike the Embrys' or Cade's was isolated from civilization and probably about as safe as the base was) or just everyone. While pouring over schematics, it did occur to Scorpius that Brutus joining Gray would be far more convenient spatially than having to waste the entire basement space holding him and his son prisoner. However Hogan inadvertently provided him an out for this (and effectively put an end to his procrastinating talking to Michael) one night at dinner by mentioning the Ministry had finally provided some of the medical materials they'd requested so he'd be at the Embrys' tomorrow, providing legs and crutches to Byron and Antonius respectively.

"You should come with me," Hogan had said to Scorpius, "Anton could probably use the moral support with the crutches."

"That's perfect," Varanian had volunteered him immediately then glanced to Scorpius who already knew he couldn't refuse, "You can ask for people's roommate preferences while you're there, and you have to talk to Michael about Jack/One. Don't forget."

And so the next day the grouchy Auror brought him to the Embrys' with his explosive side-along apparation and Gail Embry let them inside her also overcrowded muggle home, Hogan strolled straight on through to the kitchen while Scorpius lingered by the dining room-turned-infirmary where the injured were, including several of his friends. Latimer was still purposely comatose to help with his recovery, Heather was sitting beside him with an indiscernible expression but her fingers curled tightly around his, Marigold was also unconscious beside him except they actually needed him to wake up to live. The rest of them seemed to be doing better and looked to be finishing off their breakfast, their more healthy friends and relatives gathered around them also eating or were collecting empty bowls and glasses, even Professor Koray had managed to sit up weakly as Hugo spoon-fed him careful mouthfuls of porridge. Lawson was the only one who didn't seem to have any food though he was conscious, listening to whatever Albus was saying to him, and Antonius, who was merely pushing the food around his bowl rather than eating.

Scorpius went on through to the kitchen where Hogan was standing over the table with Hermione and Tabitha, two aluminum prosthetic legs and a pair of wooden crutches were on the table along with a box that he'd assume they'd came from. Abby was also there starting on dishes, Michael was standing nearby drinking his Wolfsbane potion with a look of utter disgust and Ron was busy feeding Antonius' dog by the door.

"…what you requested," Hermione was saying to the two Healers- both dressed in their lime green robes- as he entered, the pair were examining the items, "Let me know if there's any problems."

"Thank you," Tabitha offered and Hermione gave a polite nod before exiting past Scorpius while Kenelm Knight entered, a levitating a stack of dirty dishes trailing behind his outstretched wand.

"Hopefully they should do," Hogan grunted, eying one of the crutches specifically, "Do you want to take the legs and I'll take the crutches?"

"I still don't know why you insisted on crutches, I would've just amputated the leg."

"I wanted to amputate the leg, I just got overruled," Hogan said, louder than necessary and threw a pointed look at Scorpius as he approached. Over his shoulder, he saw Michael slam the empty cup down and stalk off angrily.

"What's done is done," Scorpius decided firmly, not wanting to get into another argument about it, "So are they ready to be used?"

"Soon as the boys have finished breakfast," Tabitha told him.

"Well Antonius isn't finished but he's not really eating either."

"Byron is finished," Kenelm spoke up readily, having deposited the dishes in the sink and joined them, "He's looking forward to being mobile again. I'm hoping… I'm hoping it'll help him."

"I hope so too," Tabitha agreed sympathetically as she picked up the legs, moving towards the door with the Slytherin, "Though since they're new legs he'll have to break them in again, it'll be awhile before they're..."

The conversation trailed off as they moved too far away from him, Scorpius glanced expectantly back to Hogan. Similarly, the Healer sighed and collected up the pale wooden crutches, in his hands it occurred to Scorpius that they were child-sized. He followed Hogan out past several more people bringing dishes to be washed, returning to the infirmary where Antonius' head snapped to them immediately and he abandoned his untouched breakfast on the bedside table.

"Morning," Scorpius greeted, giving his friend a smile but his eyes hadn't let the crutches.

"You ready to try the crutches or do you want to wait for a bit?" Hogan asked of the child, his usual gruff tone sanded slightly like he was trying to be nice.

"I'd like to try them now," Antonius said, swallowing nervously and seemed to notice him for the first time, "Hi Scor, what are you doing here?"

"You know, just wanted to see how you and everyone were doing," Scorpius shrugged it off and Hogan opened his mouth as if to remind him, "And some errands for Varanian, talking to people but that can wait for now. Let's get you on your legs, okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright, first thing to remember is these are obviously magical, a bit like a broom. Hold your hand out to it and say 'come' and it'll come to you as long as it's not too far away, say 'stand-'" Hogan started to explain and demonstrated by letting them go and watching them shoot into an upright position, "-and they'll stand still as a support for you to hold onto, just remember to tell them to 'stop-'" the crutches immediately clattered to the ground "-when you want them to be able to move again. You get all that?"

"Yeah."

"Well let me check your leg a minute to make sure you're ready then we can try it."

Hogan threw back Antonius' bed covers and ran his wand over his bad leg, casting some spells for a minute before he was seemingly satisfied and moved onto having Antonius turn and swing his legs over the side of the bed. Scorpius couldn't help but notice how stiff the movement was with his bad leg and it bent slowly and jerkily, as if on a delay. For the first time, Scorpius really wondered if maybe he had been wrong to insist they keep the leg but he hadn't been able to let it go…

You seem to have trouble with that

Scorpius swallowed and determinedly tried to ignore the voice in his mind, even if he was wrong about the leg it didn't mean he was wrong about everything else. That wasn't how being wrong worked, he could still save him.

A distracting applause suddenly broke out and Scorpius tore his eyes away from where Hogan has been having Antonius practice the crutch commands, turning to see the clapping was for Byron. The tortured teen was on his brand new feet, hobbling successfully down the infirmary unaided. He was smiling, it was small but it was there, Scorpius thought it was the first time he'd seen him smile since his rescue. Scorpius applauded politely along with the others.

"Good job, By," Scorpius heard himself say when Byron got close to him, giving him an encouraging smile. Byron seemed surprised he'd addressed him, acknowledging him with a polite nod before turning around to go back towards his brother and Tabitha. Why had he addressed him?

Shaking his head of it, he turned back to his friend as Hogan sat down beside him and started to patiently explain how to actually use the crutches to move, demonstrating as best he could with the child-sized crutches. Antonius was listening with rapt attention, his chestnut brown eyes alert and focused on the Healer sitting beside him. Professor Ashain's eyes… What would Professor Ashain have done? Would he have approved of saving his leg? Would he be glad his children were here with Gray instead of home with their mother?

Where is Ticcy?

"You want to give it a go?" Hogan said finally, snapping Scorpius away from Calderon's uncomfortable confusion to where he was now offering the crutches to Antonius, "This is one of those things that's better done than said, you learn more by feel and trying it then being told."

Antonius took the crutches carefully, moving both of them into the arm on the same side as his bad leg and shifted closer to the edge of the bed. He glanced at Hogan as if looking for reassurance he was doing the right thing, the Healer nodded in assent so Antonius moved on. He put his injured leg forwards then pushed off from the bed with his free hand and stood on his good leg, leaning heavily on the crutches on his injured side. Or trying to, he'd launched himself so forcefully he lost his balance and Hogan- who was closer and could react faster than Scorpius- caught him.

"Easy, you don't have to push so hard," Hogan urged him gently, steadying the boy then pulling him back down to sit on the bed again, "Now come on, try again. It takes a bit of practice."

"You can do it," Scorpius added encouragingly when he noticed how disheartened Antonius' expression was.

The second time he stood successfully but Hogan still made him do it a few more times, saying he had to get used to the motions of sitting and standing with crutches before finally allowing him to try walking. This seemed to take more practice, Antonius having to get used to moving with crutches but also just getting used to what his bad leg was actually capable of. More than once, Scorpius saw his eyes drifting wistfully over to Byron who was walking much more freely and easily and unaided.

"You said he wouldn't have to be on crutches forever, right?" Scorpius prompted after the fourth or fifth time he'd seen Antonius' eyes go to the amputee.

"Yeah," Hogan confirmed, not taking his eyes from where he was following Antonius' stiff movements, he was starting to pant from the exertion, "The injured leg should get stronger and as he gets more used to the crutches, we can drop down to one and if that all goes well we should be able to graduate to a cane. It will get easier."

"I hope so," Cassia muttered from where she was sitting cross-legged on the end of Antonius bed with his confused dog, her and Sebastian had joined them to offer moral support as well once the dishes had been done.

"Why don't we take a break for now."

"Aw, but you said we could try the stairs next," Antonius protested unhappily.

"And we can try it next, after you have a break," Hogan insisted while Antonius hung his head, chewing his lip, "You're still recovering, you need to rest your leg or you'll push it too hard and have to start from scratch."

"Okay," Antonius sighed resignedly, he was still breathing heavily as he navigated himself back to the bed and sat down perfectly as they'd practiced.

"See, you've gotten a lot better at that already."

"Would you like a drink?" Scorpius offered and Antonius hesitated only for a moment before nodding, "Anyone else want one?"

Hogan, Cassia and Sebastian all shook their heads so Scorpius headed out to the kitchen where he was shocked to run into Michael, the werewolf had been on his way out at high speed with a tray of potions. There was no one else in the kitchen now.

"Watch it!" Michael barked at him angrily, his glare irrationally fierce considering nothing had been broken.

"Sorry," Scorpius said, getting only a grunt of acknowledge before Michael tried to move past him, "Actually can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Scorpius, why not?" Michael snapped, striding back into the kitchen and practically dropping the tray back onto the table, the vials all rattled, "Why wouldn't I go administer the potions all those injured people need to get better whenever you want to talk to me?"

"It's important."

"It's always important with you!"

"What is your problem?!"

"I don't know," Michael insisted irritably, rubbing at eyes laced with dark bags and kicking at the tile but nonetheless he seemed to try reign in his anger as his next words were more level despite the sour expression remaining, "What did you want?"

"It's about your dad," Scorpius admitted and the werewolf's eyes snapped to him sharply.

"What about him?"

"Rojer… Rojer thinks he may have found a way to separate him from One, give the Specter the body it wants but…" Scorpius told him, averting his eyes and swallowing nervously, feeling like he was about to ignite a powder keg.

"But…?" Michael probed when Scorpius stayed silent, he heard him slam his hand on the table, "Fuck's sake, Scor, you wanted to talk so talk already!"

"But Jack wouldn't survive," Scorpius blurted out quickly and it was Michael's turn to go quiet, he looked back up and saw Michael's face had gone blank, "I… I wanted to know what you thought. Rojer and Varanian think we should go through with it, that Jack couldn't be saved but…"

"But what?" Michael spat out the gravel in his voice quietly, bitterness was soaked through every syllable, "It's not like we didn't already know this, especially after Molly killed Lucy. It's just like Jack, never ceasing to find new ways to disappoint and abandon me. Let him die."

"Michael…"

"I said let him die!" Michael snapped harshly as he snatched the tray of potions back up, "What the hell do I care? It's not like we were close, always was a lousy father, his life is just a string of failures like everyone else in his worthless family. I have to go administer these potions now, nice talk."

Scorpius opened his mouth but Michael was already stalking out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. He sighed and solemnly went back to getting a drink for Antonius.

"Do I have to watch this?" Sly Atoll asked irritably of his mentor, Milton, as he allowed himself to be led into the dueling arena where a large number of kids were shuffling around to find seats. His mood hadn't improved much since learning of his parents' death several days ago and the fact today happened to be his birthday served as a grating reminder of that fact, as well as a reminder of his sister's death which had also happened near his birthday.

"I mean you don't have to but I think it would be good for you, take your mind off of your parents. They say nothing reignites passion for the Soul Eaters more than a dueling showcase, it's fun to watch," Milton told him in a cheerier tone than normal as he found them two seats, he then bit his lip sheepishly, "Besides, this will be my first time taking part."

"I don't care, Milton, I don't even like you."

"Well you don't like anyone."

"I liked my father," Sly pointed out bitterly, resting his elbow on the armrest and using it prop up his head.

"Surely your father would want you to cheer up?"

"You really don't get this whole grief thing, do you?"

"They say focusing on serving the Soul Eaters is the best way to combat grief," Milton told him with complete seriousness, Sly rolled his eyes.

"Who is this 'they' anyway?" Sly muttered irritably, Milton actually opened his mouth to answer so Sly cut across him, just wanting him to shut up, "Alright! I'll watch this stupid showcase if you stop your pitiful attempts to cheer me up."

"Excellent!" Milton grinned triumphantly, showing off rows of inexplicably perfect teeth as he settled down into the seat next to him.

Back on the arena floor, one of the masters- who'd serve as a referee for the duels, Sly presumed- was striding out into the center and a hush rippled through the arena like a wave. He held out his hand to the left and an awkward gangly young teen walked onto the pitch, all elbows and knees with a face full of freckles and stringy strawlike hair dripping from his head. The duelmaster held out his hand to the right and the familiar form of Mo Serrick strolled casually in like he owned the place, pale and scrawny with a wave of ash-brown hair but somehow powerful, he stood like a stone while his opponent wavered like a weed.

They both stopped facing each other in front of the duelmaster, withdrawing their wands and bowing politely in good duel etiquette before turning and walking away from each other. The duelmaster started counting and on the stroke of three both spun back, a clash of color collided in the center where their two spells struck.

Mo was already throwing himself out of the way as the older boy cast a Stunner at him, a Disarming Charm flying from his wand as he did so. The other boy deflected it with ease, sending it careening uselessly to the floor and quickly following with another Stunning Spell. Mo lurched out of the way, his wand twirling rapidly in his hand as he cast out a barrage of rapid fire spells, forcing his opponent to abandon the wand movements he'd started to make to defend instead with an impressive Shield Charm that tanked each of the Disarming Charms that struck like luminous arrows sending cracks and finally shattering his shield.

Seemingly getting frustrated by Mo's offensive dueling style, he changed tactics and had a fiery spell that cleaved ferociously through the air in a wide arc. Mo was unfazed as with a look of intense concentration, he cast his Slowing Spell, the crescent of fire decelerated before it reached the scrawny boy who was able to duck under it before time unhitched and it crashed rapidly into the wall of the arena behind him. Mo was already firing more spells at the slightly miffed opponent, who put up another shield to deflect the spells- spells that unlike last time, were not all Disarming Charms. One was a pink spell that Sly didn't recognize and as it was deflected to the ground near the older boy, the ground rippled like the spell was a stone tossed into water. It went unnoticed by the boy due to his own Shield Charm.

Changing tactics abruptly, Mo cast an explosive Blasting Charm that force his opponent to dive out of the way but as he hit the ground his body bounced. It was as if he'd jumped onto a trampoline rather than the ordinarily hard floor, he gave a very audible cry of shock and flailed uncertainly in blind panic as if he didn't know what to do in this situation where he kept bouncing.

"Petrificus Totatlus!" Mo yelled in a tone of finality, sending the last spell streaking to his opponent.

The other boy didn't seem capable of reacting and was struck by the spell, arms snapping to his sides and legs together stiffly. He continued to bounce for a minute as the springy ground slowly lost its momentum, finally leaving him lying there with his face still full of shock. The duelmaster called Mo over to him then raised up his wand arm, indicating he was the victor and the crowd applauded.

"Wow," Milton breathed from beside him, "Hope I don't end up facing off against him, he's so good."

"He's not good," Sly complained irritably and felt his mentor's eyes swivel to him, "He just thinks outside of the box the rest of your tiny little brains have been locked in."

"So how do I think outside the box?"

"Well you don't figure it by bloody asking about it," Sly answered in frustration, sparing a glance as it dawned on him that Milton looked genuinely interested in his opinion. When was the last time that happened? Not since Whit was still alive, he was sure, "You have to think creatively, think for yourself, think outside of what you've been told to think."

"Like what?"

"Milton! Were you not listening to a single word I said?!"

"Right, you can't ask what to do," Milton muttered, more to himself and turned back to the arena where the boys had been cleared off the pitch and two girls were now walking on, "This is hard."

"Only for you," Sly added acidly but his mentor was too busy mulling on it to really care, his eyebrows pulled into a scowl. Sly rolled his eyes, he hoped he'd not started another favorite color thing.

"Well, I better be getting down there," Milton announced just as Sly's eyes had trailed back to the arena, "I'm up after them, wish me luck."

"I don't care."

Milton merely nodded at this and left his seat, making his way down to whatever preparation rooms were under the stands. Sly sighed as he looked back to the arena where the two girls were dueling, the pitch awash with flashes of color as they weaved back and forth, he was tempted to just sneak back to his room now that Milton was gone. He amused himself by imaging Milton losing the duel due to being distracted looking for him in the stands, then was less amused when he pictured Milton fetching him from his room to bring him back, he was probably too stupid to realize Sly would ditch him on purpose even if he said it to him directly. He settled back into the uncomfortable seat in annoyance, he didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be anywhere.

The girls' duel ended far less spectacularly than Mo's had, the duelmaster repeated the victory ritual with the winner that Sly couldn't be bothered to applaud for and the loser was revived for removal. Milton and another boy walked onto the pitch next, a stocky teen already with a few whiskers on his face, Milton was probably going to get slaughtered.

"Hey Sly," a familiar high voice offered and Sly snapped his gaze away from where the combatants were bowing to glare at the blond.

"Fuck off, Davin."

"Always so rude," Davin mused, not remotely perturbed or incensed by Sly's words.

"Didn't I already tell you to leave me alone?"

"You did."

"So then go suck off your blubbering blind boyfriend or something, I'm sure he could use a pick-me-up," Sly spat nastily though Davin's face frustratingly remained impassive as he continued to study him with his pale green eyes, "You see, if you weren't a freak then you'd have been offended by that comment."

"Guess it's a good thing I'm a freak then, isn't it?" Davin commented, the edges of his lips curling into a hint of a smile, sometimes Sly swore other people only existed just to annoy him, "And don't worry, I won't be long. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

"Your worthless platitudes are noted, now fuck off," Sly insisted and turned irritably back to the arena, "Honestly, Davin, I really am starting to think you-"

Sly stopped mid-sentence as Davin threw something down onto his lap, he startled and blinked in surprise, trying to figure out if it was real. He picked it up carefully, the paper was a little frayed around the edges and ruffled, the ink a little faded but the unmistakably Old English front still clearly read: The Daily Prophet, He straightened it up, shuffling the pages neatly back into order and turned it over to check the back where the crossword was still untouched, he then turned it back to the front and checked the date, June 6th 2024, the day the Shadows attacked. Though of course it had been even longer since he'd actually gotten to read the paper, his stupid foster parents had thought it was inappropriate for a child of his age.

"I know it's out of date but you never specified it had to be recent," Davin was saying, reminding Sly the paper hadn't sucked him into some alternate dimension and he was still in the Training Tower, "I'm not sure they're even making them anymore once London was razed to the ground, let alone where they'd be. I thought you'd prefer it anyway to a recent one filled with the Soul Eater propaganda that we produce."

Sly spared the older boy a glance, surprised he'd even remembered his comment about the paper let alone that he'd managed to procure one. He wasn't sure whether to ask how, thank him or tell him to fuck off again. After all, he wasn't sure what Davin's angle was, there was no way he'd do something so nice for him without wanting something in return, surely.

"Anyway, I'll leave you to it," Davin offered, turning to leave, "Happy birthday, Sly."

"Davin…" Sly started to say and the older boy turned back to him but his throat strangled whatever words had been there, he didn't know what to say, his precious words had fled and even his enhanced mind couldn't process the gesture.

Davin didn't seem to mind or even look surprised, he merely smiled kindly in response then continued to make his leave.

Sly looked back down to his paper, annoyed at himself for not saying anything. He sighed and brushed his hands across the wrinkled pages to smooth them out, the paper- which may very well be the very last edition ever produced- being like a relic that had been plucked out of a different time, a better time. When Whit and his dad were still there, lightheartedly teasing him about his insistence on reading it every day but chatting about the headlines all the same, solving the crossword together before bed… He felt like a stone had formed in his throat, the ink blurred as his eyes burned but he refused to let himself cry, to let himself be weak.

"Hey Sly!" Milton called out enthusiastically and Sly snatched his head back up to see the older boy approaching with a smile, "Did you see? I won!"

"No, I wasn't watching," Sly admitted truthfully and disinterestedly as he managed to swallow the stone before it got too big, Milton's face fell as he hastily folded up the paper and made to leave, "Anyway, I'll be going now, Davin gave me this to read so I'm going back to the room. Good luck with the rest of your dumb tournament, go break your leg or spine or a hip or whatever. Bye!"

"Oh okay, glad you're feeling better…"

"I've got it, don't worry," Abby told him, smiling kindly as she collected up his empty plate to place on top of her own.

"Are you sure?" Albus asked pleadingly, not so much doubting her ability to hold two plates as wanting to do something.

"Yeah, its fine, you just relax."

Relax. Albus decided he was getting quite sick of the word relax as he watched Abby start to collect up the rest of the plates from the other patients and their visitors in this makeshift infirmary, some of them getting up to help- Byron very keen to utilize his new prosthetic legs. He was at the point in his recovery where he was well enough that he mentally felt up to doing things again but physically his body hadn't quite caught up yet, he was getting fed up 'relaxing' while everyone – especially Abby – waited on him hand and foot. He sighed and leaned back against his comfortably fluffed pillows, Abby had charmed them to pretty much be perfect. She really was being amazing, made it kind of awkward when he was trying to let go of her so she could be with Sequoia, poor bloke was probably worried sick about her.

It didn't really help that most of the people in the infirmary were victims of his brother, having either been severely injured fighting James or tortured horribly by James- Marigold was probably going to die in fact. They expected the upcoming full moon to kill him if he didn't wake up before it, he'd be another person Albus knew to die by his brother's hand, like Louis and Vern. He knew he wasn't responsible for his brother's crimes but the guilt gnawed away at him all the same, and there was Lawson, not a victim of James but instead from his father's Aurors so he still felt guilt by association. Someone had to, James certainly wasn't going to feel remorse and he somehow doubted his dad would give Lawson an apology, as far as he knew he hadn't even given one to Varanian.

Albus glanced over to the man in the bed to his left, Lawson looked… unwell. His sickly pale skin was papier-mâchéd thinly onto misshapen bones and pressed into the crevices between them, highlighting how cadaverous he looked and the burn scars on his hands made the flesh look tattered. Brittle strands of wavy hair hung around his gaunt face, the color of scrubbed down charcoal. He was staring off to an empty spot near the end of his bed, not lost in thought but focused as if there was actually anything there. He started to tear his eyes away but then they snapped back to the same spot, eyebrows shooting up in surprise like he was reacting to something. Hallucinating, Albus had come to recognize.

"What do you see, Lawson?" Albus asked with a gentle curiosity. Lawson's head snapped to face him immediately, one eye gray and one eye coalesced into a milky blue orb drowning in a bloodshot sclera, more burn scars peppered around it. It would've been unnerving if Albus hadn't had to get used to Michael's injured eye before he got the prosthetic, others might think it made him look demented but Albus just thought the mismatched eyes seemed to either pierce into your soul or stare straight through you whenever he looked at you, no in between, "When you hallucinate, I mean."

"My family mofstly," Lawson answered after a minute, his eyes twitching for a second as if resisting the urge to glance at the hallucination, "Step-pather, mum, half-brother, children. Also my ex, Aurors, Rinferi, this place in rubble, eneryvone dead… that stuff is easier to ignore though, I see my daughther the most I think."

"Whit," Albus guessed, having heard him say the strange name on several occasions. Lawson inclined his head in acknowledgement at this being correct then pushed himself to sit up straighter, the obvious pain twisting his face, "You really should start taking some pain-relief poti-"

"No," Lawson barked firmly in interruption.

"There's no point being in pain unnecessarily, it doesn't help you heal-"

"No."

"Why?" Albus questioned and Lawson's good eye – which was closest to him – flicked to him, he bit his tongue between his teeth as if contemplating his answer or maybe whether to answer at all but when he spoke it was with the most clarity he'd ever heard from him.

"Pain-relief potions can be addicting, I won't take anything that can be addicting."

Lawson let out a relieved breath as he succeeded in straightening himself up and flopped back onto his pillows, the pain easing from his face. Albus considered his words carefully, wanting to tell him that was pretty unlikely and they could just use a lower dose to ease rather erase pain completely but Lawson no doubt knew this and remained paranoid, he clearly had some reason that Albus didn't exactly feel like he knew him well enough to pry. He wanted to say something though as he saw Lawson jolt, his eyes snapping right back to that empty spot near the end of the bed, Albus didn't know a lot – or well anything he supposed – about being tortured into near insanity but he didn't feel like it was healthy to just leave Lawson alone with his hallucinations like that.

Besides, there wasn't much he could to help the people James had hurt but he actually could help the person his dad's Aurors had hurt, he could talk to Lawson to distract him. No one else really was and if he was going to be a part of Gray, he may as well try to make him feel welcome, they already had a Death Eater so a drug dealer was actually less morally questionable. Albus opened his mouth as he decided on simply changing the subject, only for Lawson's head shoot up and smile.

"Aww!"

Albus followed his gaze and his own face split into an even wider smile as he saw Olivia approaching, a big diaper bag hanging off one shoulder and nestled on the other hip was Vern's daughter, little baby Lydia. She was looking a bit grumpy, as if she'd just woken from a nap and was idly sucking on her own fingers.

"Hey Lydia, look it's Uncle Albus," Olivia urged as he reached him, directing the infant's attention to him and she gave a squeal of delight upon recognizing him, trying to reach out to him with her chubby baby hands.

"Uncle Albus missed you so much!" Albus said as Olivia obediently handed her over, he happily scooped her into his arms and started smothering her with kisses. She howled with delighted laughter, lifting up the whole mood in the makeshift hospital. Snuggling her close, his emerald eyes drifted to the Slytherin a year his junior who was looking a little tired, "You alright?"

"Yeah, you?" Oliva replied.

"You know, the usual. Still getting better slowly."

"Abby said you were bored."

"Did she now?" Albus wondered, surprised by both the fact Abby had told Olivia and that Abby had even known because he didn't recall telling her, he'd been keeping his complaints to himself.

"Yeah so since you're doing better and you're always wanting me to bring Lydia to visit so… I wondered if maybe you'd be up to babysitting her for a few hours while I do my training?"

"Of course I'm up to it! Anytime!"

"Thanks," Olivia said, smiling gratefully at him as she plopped down the diaper bag at the end of his bed, "She's being a bit of a moody madam because she woke up from her nap early and wouldn't go back to sleep but I changed and fed her just before coming here, I'll only been gone a few hours so I should be back before she needs anything but I packed you some bottles and diapers and stuff just in case, also some of her favorite new toys- courteously of Cade and Caradoc- if you need things to keep her entertained, plus her blanket because she might just finish her nap. Okay?"

"Absolutely, don't worry about a thing," Albus insisted enthusiastically, "I'm going to be the best babysitter you ever saw."

"Well good because Maxie could probably do with a break," Olivia laughed before leaning forwards to kiss her daughter on the cheek, "I'll see you later, sweetheart, you have fun with Uncle Alby. And if it gets too much or you need me or anything just have someone shoot me a Patronus."

"Okay, good luck with your training. Wave bye-bye to Mummy, Lydia," Albus offered then switched his address to Vern's daughter, waving at Olivia as she left which Lydia copied and somehow managed to poke him in the eye, "Ow."

He heard a strangled yelping sound to his left as he rubbed his eye, realizing just as he started to turn to his left to investigate that it was actually Lawson's laughter. The convict was watching them wistfully, mismatched eyes staring through them, probably thinking of his dead daughter. He considered this for a moment, glancing back down at little Lydia who was trying to suck on the fingers that were holding her… babies were weird, then back to Lawson.

"Do you want to hold her?" Albus asked, shocking Lawson whose eyebrows shot up his head and his mismatched eyes snapped with focus to him, gaze now penetrating. He tilted his head, seemingly considering it for a moment before answering.

"Yes."

With only the slightest hint of hesitation, Albus lifted up Vern's precious daughter and handed her across the narrow- the beds were all quite close to each other to fit in too small muggle room- gap to Lawson. He saw his face twist with pain for a moment at the exertion but he nonetheless carefully took the baby, settling her on his lap with a practiced grace.

Lydia eyed the stranger warily, Albus wondered if it was normal for babies to be suspicious of strangers or if it was just because of her experience with Lysander. Lawson's fingers hovered over the small scar Lysander had given her but didn't comment on it, instead he gave the infant a kind even if clearly crooked smile.

"Hi Lydia," Lawson cooed in the soft tone that people reserved for addressing babies, she continued to stare at him, "What? Do I have a vunny looking eye? Do you yant to see something cool?"

Lawson reached out towards the bedside table for his glass of water, it was almost gone and he downed the last of it quickly. Lydia poked her finger into her mouth thoughtfully as she continued to stare up at his messed up eye, babbling incomprehensively to herself. Albus would love to know what was going on inside her little mind.

"Can you make this unbreabable?" Lawson was asking of him, holding out the now empty glass. Albus had questions but decided to see where he was going so he retrieved his wand from his bedside table and obediently cast the charm, Lawson placed the glass down in front of Lydia whose little brows knitted together in confusion, "Thankth, now can I borrow your wand jusd for a second?"

Albus looked at him for a moment as Lawson held out his scarred skeletal hand, almost hearing Abby's voice disapproving in his mind but they would need to trust him with a wand sooner or later. He'd bite, he trusted him, he handed Lawson his wand. Lawson gripped the wand awkwardly and waved it over the glass, muttering a variation of a color-changing charm that Albus was unfamiliar with. It seemed to take him a few tries, seeming to struggle to twist his wrist enough before the glass glowed for a second. He grinned and handed Albus his wand back quickly.

"What's this, Lyd?" Lawson asked of her, her eyes following his hand as he tapped the glass. It flashed blue at this touch.

Lydia gave an excited shriek, her little eyes bugging out of her head. She reached out her own hand and poked it, this time it flashed yellow. She gasped and glanced at Albus across the bed, pointing to the glass and babbling rapidly again while bouncing up and down on her bum. She poked it again, orange, and again, green, and again, purple. The sound of her laughter quickly filled the whole room, she clapped then started smacking her small chubby hands down on the glass – he suddenly understood why Lawson wanted him to make it unbreakable – like she was playing a bongo drum, random colors flashing every time.

"You'll have to teach me that one," Albus said to Lawson, smiling at how happy Lydia was while the other man blinked in surprise at this but said nothing.

Albus watched her playing for a while, finding it relaxing to see her laugh and find simple joy in these dark times. A sadness tugged at his heart though, still unable to shake the feeling that Vern should be there. The laughter stopped abruptly as Lawson reached out for the glass, Lydia froze and watched with interest as he slowly dragged his fingers across the glass, in doing so making colors ripple across it like a rainbow. Lydia gasped excitedly before trying to do the same, grabbing at the glass too tightly and trying to drag her chubby paws across it. The effect wasn't as impressive as Lawson but it was enough to make her howl with laughter again, clapping happily and gurgling.

"So if she's your niece, ish she the daughter of your Shadow brother then? James?" Lawson questioned curiously and Albus' eyes left Lydia- who was still enthralled by the color-changing glass- for the first time to glance at him, the convict's head tilted interestedly, gaze still piercing. Albus had been trying to fill him on some basic information about who people were and relevant events, no one else seemed to bother explaining to him which might just be because he was still recovering but he could still learn and recover and he distracted from hallucinations at the same time.

"Um… no," Albus answered, swallowing and steeling himself before he started speaking about Vern. It was still hard but it had been long enough he could do it without balling, unlike his mother who he just… tried not to think about right now, "I… I used to have a muggle-born cousin named Vern, he was a year younger than me- so the same year as Olivia- and during, like, his first year at Hogwarts he was orphaned so we took him in. I resented it at first but I came to view him like a brother, he was a good friend, a good person, loyal, brave, kind… He's Lydia's father so technically she's just some sort of distant cousin but she means a lot to me, Vern died before he ever got to meet her so I have to look out for her for him."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Albus said as Lawson's eyes shifted to staring though him again, expression sympathetic. Albus felt like he had shards of glass in his throat but he was keeping it together, his eyes drifted to little Lydia who was laughing obliviously through all of this in her amusement with her new toy, "It's been a year since he died now, he was killed by James actually. Bastard was waiting for us when we got back from Hogwarts, Vern… Vern died in my arms."

"That thas good."

"Good?!" Albus burst out incredulously, his eyes snapping back to Lawson whose face blanched.

"I nean, wit was better."

"Better?!"

"Yeah, like…" Lawson trailed off, face screwed up in frustration and his jaw clenched and unclenched like he was struggling to find the right words. Albus bit his own tongue, trying to be patient and give him a chance to collect his crazy thoughts, "My daughter died in my arms. They thet me be bwith her when they realized it was too late... I thougth it was horrible until the Aurors told me my son had died, just killed in Mogsheade, prolably scared and in pain and alone… None of them should have died but better Vern and Whit died with soneome who loved them then died all alone like Sly did."

"I never really thought about it like that before," Albus admitted, staring off thoughtfully. It wasn't the worst way to go, he supposed, he knew plenty of people who had had worse deaths. Though he wondered if it truly mattered, had it brought Vern any comfort to die with him there? What had Vern's last thoughts been? Or Rose? Or his mother? Or-

"Here, you should take ker back," Lawson said, jolting Albus from his thoughts and he didn't even have time to argue it as Lawson was already handing the baby over to him. She wailed in distress, short arms reaching for the enchanted glass as Albus took her, "I'm getting gired, gonna sleep."

"Oh, okay," Albus muttered, not sure if Lawson was only pretending to be tired… or maybe not because Albus had learned from experience that bursts of energy faded fast when you were recovering from wounds like this. Lydia whinged unhappily, gazing pleadingly up at him with her bottom lip trembling as she pointed at the glass, "Can I have the glass?"

Lawson handed it over, causing Lydia to shriek excitedly and clap again as Albus set in front of her so she could continue playing with it. He offered a polite goodnight to the convict, Lawson nodded in acknowledgement before rolling over. He hoped he'd helped take his mind of his hallucinations. Maybe. He wasn't sure. Probably not, knowing his luck. He was just surrounded by his family's victims and he couldn't do anything to help them, even when he tried, wishing they'd be okay was the most he could do and he knew what they said about wishes.

He could at least entertain Lydia though, he pulled the diaper bag to him to check briefly for what Olivia had packed because he wasn't sure how long the magic light glass would entertain her, he had been learning babies had phenomenally short attention spans. Lydia abandoned the glass, gurgling interestedly at the bag and immediately reached for a rattle that jingled in her small hand. Instead of simply playing with the rattle she turned quickly back to the glass and hammered the thing down onto it, so forcefully he was sure it would've shattered if not for his unbreakable charm. It caused a deafening crashing sound regardless as the jingly rattle collided with glass and rattled Albus' ears, causing an explosion of lights to ripple outwards like a star which had Lydia laughing with delight as she was seemingly unperturbed by the sound.

"Why err… why don't we play with Mr Rattle later, huh?" Albus urged her gently, trying to pry the rattle- it was more difficult then he'd expected- from her impressively vice-like grip as she tried to swing it down again. He was then distracted by a rough cough.

"What… What on Earth was… was that racket?" a voice he had given up hearing again croaked weakly and a wide grin split Albus' face in two, eyes shifting to the Hogwarts Head Healer who was struggling to open his eyes.

"Marigold!" Albus exclaimed brightly and lost the rattle war with Lydia who succeeded in a second strike with the rattle, Marigold's eyes flickered over to them while several of the healers flocked to him. Finally some good news, Albus couldn't help it as he chuckled to himself, "Hehe, Marigold."