A/N: Thank you for the readership and the reviews! Almost all the questions asked so far will be answered fairly naturally in the course of the story (some in this chapter), so I'll let them be answered as the story unfolds (though feel free to keep asking). I can safely say that yes, you will be seeing more of Luna, though she's not quite at the center of this story, and we won't be encountering her (or any other students) for a few chapters yet.

Also, apologies to anyone who actually knows Latin for my mangling of the language. It's been over a decade since I studied it, so I'm sure that despite my best intentions some errors have crept in.

Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just play here.


The fine-boned woman with the dark hair and freckles was named Maureen O'Malley, Harry and Hermione learned at lunch. But they learned little else during the meal, either about her or Dumbledore's plan. Upon closer inspection had blue-grey eyes under strong, straight brows; a long, straight, rather thin nose; a small, tight-lipped mouth; and a slightly pointy chin. It was clear from the conversation that she knew both Dumbledore and Snape fairly well, but not Tonks. To Harry her face seemed vaguely familiar, and halfway through the meal he realized that she had been in the photo of the original Order that Mad-Eye had shown him nearly two years before.

The adults spent most of lunch discussing the new security measures being instituted by the Ministry, the three adults familiar to the teens enumerating them to the strange woman with extensive commentary from both Tonks and Snape. No one present seemed to be the least bit reassured by any of the Ministry's enhanced security procedures. Tonks complained that they were a nuisance and Snape contemptuously described them as "idiotic if entirely unsurprising." Dumbledore carefully did not voice any opinions, which gave Hermione a very good idea of his feelings on the subject.

Neither of the teens contributed much to the conversation, for vastly different reasons. Harry was irritated with Dumbledore for still not explaining his plan, and at everyone else for calmly eating and chatting as if there was no other point to their lunch than casual socializing. He was startled at the discovery that Snape of all people could engage in casual conversation, but sourly noted that Snape always demonstrated previously-unimagined abilities and interests at the most annoying possible moment (like refereeing Quidditch). Harry ate quickly, finishing each course well ahead of the others, and sat fidgeting in his seat as he waited, only vaguely following the adults' conversation.

Hermione, for her part, found the conversation quite illuminating. She sat listening in rapt attention, only half noticing her food as she ate. She attempted to listen in silence, half afraid that the adults would speak less freely if they realized how much information she was gleaning from their discussion, half not wanting to disturb the flow of a conversation she already found so informative. Once or twice a question slipped out, and Dumbledore twinkled at her as he answered, but for the most part she sat quietly, digesting the information and opinions she was acquiring—and profoundly grateful that she would not need to trust the Ministry for protection over the coming months.

#

When everyone had at last finished eating and the dishes had disappeared from the table with a quiet pop, the lunch conversation drew to a close.

Turning to the teenagers, Dumbledore addressed them. "I know you are both wondering about our plans for you. Thank you for your patience over the past hour." He smiled, and Harry guiltily realized that his exasperation had been all too plain to the headmaster.

Dumbledore continued, "I had previously promised Harry that you would not be stuck inside somewhere for an indefinite period, and you will not be—though we will attempt to create the impression that Harry is hiding somewhere under such circumstances."

Both teens nodded, Hermione more quickly than Harry, and the headmaster went on.

"However, the wizarding world is not currently a safe place for Harry Potter, and I'm afraid we cannot risk sending you into the Muggle world, without magical protection. So you will remain in the magical world, but as someone else—as two someone elses, in fact." Dumbledore beamed at them, glowing in satisfaction at the cleverness of his plan.

"But Sir," Hermione questioned anxiously, "Aren't magical disguises vulnerable to magical detection? Isn't that quite as risky as going to ground in the Muggle world?"

"Ah." The headmaster inclined his head. "If I were proposing to use any of the numerous magical methods explicitly intended for disguise, that would indeed be a problem. But you will not be using disguises, per se. I am proposing something rather more durable. Under ordinary circumstances… Well, perhaps it is best to say that the circumstances are extraordinary."

He paused for a moment before asking, "Are either of you familiar with blood adoptions? Specifically, blood adoptions in the old ritual form?"

Harry shook his head. "Wizards have magical adoption procedures?" he asked, flummoxed.

Hermione's eyes opened wide and her mouth formed an involuntary 'o' as she nodded. "I've read about them, Sir, though they haven't been common for several centuries, have they?"

Turning to Harry, she explained, "In the old form of magical blood adoption, adoptees literally accept the blood of their adoptive parents, causing extensive magical and physical changes. Their physical form and—well, not their magic, but significant portions of their magical signatures, if they're magical—change to reflect what they would have been had they been born to their adoptive parents. It's rather all-encompassing from what I've read, though it can't give someone magical abilities who wasn't born with them. It was used fairly often on muggleborns during the middle ages, but it gradually fell out of common use over the eighteenth century."

Frowning, Hermione looked back at Dumbledore. "It's rather a lot to ask of everyone, though, isn't it? I mean, for me and Harry I understand: the advantages are obvious. But it's a huge commitment on the part of our adoptive parents as well."

At this Snape muttered something under his breath, which might have been "from the mouths of babes."

After shooting a quelling look at Snape, Dumbledore nodded gravely to Hermione. "Indeed, it is quite a significant commitment, and I am glad to hear you recognize it. And yet I have found two willing parents, and with them a background that should withstand scrutiny."

The strange woman spoke up, smiling gently at Harry and Hermione. "Really, it's my pleasure to assist you. I've lived in seclusion for some years, so much so that no one will have reason to doubt that you are my natural children when your existence is made known. I have very little family left—none close—and my dearest friends are dead or worse. I will be rejoining them soon, and I will meet them more easily for having done this—especially your mother, Harry."

"You're dying?" Hermione blurted out, aghast.

"You knew my mum?" asked Harry, in the same moment.

"Yes, and yes," she responded. "At some point my magical core became inflamed, and I'm afraid I was horrible about visiting the healers' for some years. By the time anyone noticed, it was too far gone to fix. The healers are keeping me quite comfortable, but at this point that's all they can do. I have a little time—perhaps as little as one month, perhaps as long as three, but it won't be long now."

She said this calmly, betraying no more emotion than someone commenting on the weather. Both Harry and Hermione's mouths gaped open, staring in horror at the woman's matter-of-fact announcement of her own impending death.

Impossibly, she laughed. "Please, don't be sad for me. I've outlived nearly everyone I love by more than fourteen years—had more time than I knew what to do with, in some ways. I'm ready to see them all again."

Smiling faintly, she continued. "I was in the same year as your mother at school, Harry, though I was in Ravenclaw and she was in Gryffindor, so we didn't really get to know each other until our NEWT classes. It was after Hogwarts that we became close. There were four of us in the Order, young women who'd graduated within a year of each other: Lily, Alice, Marlene, and me. Marlene and I had been in Ravenclaw, the other two in Gryffindor. We were the greatest of friends. War does that—binds people together—when it doesn't rip them apart. I'm the only one left, at least in the ways that count. Adopting you, giving you what protection I can—both of you—it's the least I can do, for Lily and for the fight against Him."

Harry felt a lump forming in his throat when she spoke of his mum—people discussed her so rarely with him (especially since he didn't count Petunia's catty comments). He held the shreds of newly-gained knowledge close, hoping he would get a chance to ask Madam O'Malley more about his mum later.

Hermione, less distracted than her best friend and more conscious of the basic requirements of blood adoptions, turned her head to survey the other adults at the table. Her gaze stopped on Snape, trepidation writ large on her face, but she did not speak.

Instead Dumbledore continued. "As Miss Granger has indicated, the adoption will alter you both physically, and change your magical signatures enough that no one will be able to trace you by that means. You will be able to switch back to your current selves when necessary—let me say now, Harry, that it is absolutely essential that when you finally face Tom you do so as yourself—though I believe the process of changing physical forms is physically taxing and not to be undergone lightly.

"You will spend the next month or so with Madam O'Malley at her home in Ireland. You must learn as much as you can about the area so that you can convincingly claim to have grown up there, and pursue your acquaintance with her as much as her health allows.

"Later in the summer she will 'reveal' your existence to your father on account of her failing health, and he will take you into his custody, allowing you to enroll at Hogwarts in the fall as new students."

"Our father?" asked Harry, suddenly realizing that their second adoptive parent had not been named.

"One would think," sneered Snape, "that even you, Mr. Potter, would be able to make such an obvious deduction."

Silently admonishing Snape with a look, Dumbledore answered Harry's question. "Professor Snape has agreed to be your father. It is my hope that the two of you will learn to see past your differences, but at a minimum I expect you to tolerate each other."

"Snape?" squawked Harry. "Snape! But he hates me! Hates both of us, really."

"There's no need to be so dramatic, Potter," Snape responded in a cold voice.

"Why did you agree to this, anyway?" Harry questioned, suddenly suspicious. "Are you just doing this so you can hand us over to Vol—"

"Do not say his name in my presence!" roared Snape. "And do attempt not to be such a dunderhead, Potter. If I wanted to hand you over to the Dark Lord, I could manage it with far less inconvenience to myself."

"Then why? Why adopt me—us—when you hate me?" pressed Harry.

"My reasons are my own, and not for you to know." Snape countered.

Dumbledore broke in. "Harry, I can assure you that Professor Snape's reasons are everything that is honorable. But you must respect his privacy in this."

Grudgingly, Harry nodded. It wasn't like his feelings mattered much—they never had, not on the important questions. Besides, after his outburst the week before Harry badly wanted to seem mature in front of the headmaster, which stifled the impulse to blurt out several of the thoughts that came to his mind.

Hermione nodded too, mind still reeling from the influx of information. She was more than a little apprehensive at the idea of Snape as a father herself, especially with Harry in the mix. But the analytical part of her brain was in high gear, and she could already see several advantages to the headmaster's plan, even so, the greatest of them being that it would put the two of them under the Order's protection without revealing their identities.

"Sir?" Hermione ventured, a new difficulty occurring to her as she considered. "What about Harry's scar? Since it's a curse scar, it's not likely to be affected by a blood adoption, is it?"

Dumbledore twinkled at her again, the expression on his face strangely like Professor Flitwick's when she answered a particularly difficult question in class. "Indeed you are correct, Miss Granger. The blood adoption alone would not be enough to hide Mr. Potter's scar.

"However," he continued, "Professor Snape has been kind enough to brew a potion that will allow me to move his scar to a less obvious location—and the magic of the adoption ritual will make it permanent.

"One of the more interesting features of the blood adoption ritual is that all potions affecting the adoptee's physical form at the time of the ritual are made permanent. Perhaps you recall the most famous example, Miss Granger?"

When Hermione shook her head he continued. "The adoption in question occurred in 1684. A young wizard named Wulfric Crawley convinced his aunt and uncle to perform the adoption ritual while he was under the influence of a gender-switching draught—a potion which usually lasts no more than 3-4 hours at most. Her adopted name was Serena Crawley, and she lived out her remaining 133 years as a witch—far more happily than she had lived her first 16 years as a wizard, by all accounts. My grandmother was a friend of hers…" Dumbledore drifted off, lost in reminiscences.

"Yes, well… to get back to the point—in Harry's case, the plasticity potion will allow me to move Harry's scar long enough to perform the ritual, though I expect it to take my full effort and concentration to keep it there. That is one of the reasons for Ms. Tonks' presence—I will need her to oversee Harry's adoption ritual in my stead."

Tonks nodded at this, as did Snape and Madam O'Malley, all unsurprised. Clearly Dumbledore had gone over the logistics with all of the adults ahead of time.

Seeing that the teens understood, Dumbledore went on. "We will also be giving both of you small doses of age suppression potion, to make you appear slightly younger than you are. We'll dose you so that you appear to be not quite 14—your birthday will be in August, so you will enter Hogwarts as 4th year students in the autumn.

"There are several reasons for this. Most importantly, that is the timing that fits the historical details, should anyone bother with the arithmetic. I also feel that it will be easier for you to maintain your new personas if you have an entirely new set of classmates. By the same token, I have consulted with the sorting hat, and it has agreed not to put you in Gryffindor so long as there are other suitable options. Moreover, it is my hope that the easier course load will leave you with more time and attention for extracurricular training. Finally, by making you younger we will delay Tom's interest in you—he seems to have very little interest in children, in general, except occasionally as tools to punish their parents, and never before they are 16 or so. By making you appear younger we will give you an extra buffer—or at least that is our hope.

"Do you have any questions before we proceed with the ritual?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, both overwhelmed. Hermione was somewhat reassured that the headmaster had such complete answers to all the questions that had occurred to her so far—and answered several others before she could think of them. She was glad that she would be able to continue at Hogwarts, even in fourth year classes. The plan was not as bad as she had feared it might be.

Harry felt no such reassurance, so deeply alarmed by the prospect of Snape as a father (would he be as bad as the Dursleys? worse?) that he barely registered the other details. It was worse than anything he'd imagined, except being shut up in Grimmauld Place. Without Hermione's interest in or knowledge of the intricacies of magical processes, Harry couldn't grasp the subtleties of the plan, much less be comforted by them. The only comforts he clung to were that he wouldn't have to face Snape for something like a month, and that he'd have Hermione with him.

The two friends communicated wordlessly, in the quirk of Hermione's mouth and the slight movement in Harry's shoulder, before turning as one to Dumbeldore and the other adults and replying no. There would be time for questions later, when they knew what to ask.

#

Surprisingly, Dumbledore asked them to change into pajamas for the adoption rituals, explaining that their shapes would be changing enough that it would be easier if their clothes did not need to fit exactly. They were each given a pair of sky blue flannel pajamas, complete with matching slippers and robes, and sent to change in the small bathroom off the headmaster's office.

When they returned, Tonks ushered them into the room next door to the one where they'd had lunch, which turned out to be sparsely furnished except for the bookshelves (full of what appeared to be administrative records, some of them quite old). The bookshelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling, broken only by the door and two windows, each with a window seat. A purple plush armchair—undoubtedly conjured by Dumbledore—sat in the middle of the room, with a small folding table set perhaps a meter in front of it.

Wordlessly, Harry and Hermione crossed over to the nearer window seat and set their piles of clothes and shows on it, since it seemed to be the only place available (and neither was keen on holding a pile of clothes containing underwear for a moment longer than necessary).

Snape was finishing a long incantation over a pair of potions set on the folding table while Dumbledore and Madam O'Malley looked on. When he finished, he nodded to Dumbledore, who beckoned Harry and Hermione over.

The potions appeared identical, except that one flask was nearly half again as full as the other. Snape thrust the fuller flask into Hermione's hands, and the less full one into Harry's.

"The age suppression potion," he barked at them. "Drink—all of it, mind you."

It didn't taste particularly bad—at least as potions went—but the sensations it created were far from pleasant. Both felt themselves shrinking into themselves, both vertically and in other places. Hermione lost two inches in height, Harry four and a half. Feeling a strange lightness in her chest, Hermione looked down and was suddenly glad to be wearing pajamas: she was suddenly much less well endowed than she had been, and it would have been humiliating to stand there in her suddenly-far-too-big bra. Both teens felt extremely awkward and strangely vulnerable, standing there in pajamas and bodies they'd grown out of.

Smiling at them as if nothing peculiar had happened, the headmaster directed Hermione to the unoccupied window seat and asked her to hold Harry's robe and slippers, explaining that they would do his adoption ritual first.

Snape produced another potion—this one a shimmering, translucent white—and directed Harry to drink it, as well. This one tasted rather like citrus—really quite pleasant—but didn't seem to do anything that Harry could tell.

After setting a small dagger and bowl on the table, Dumbledore directed Harry to sit in the chair, with Snape and Madam O'Malley standing on either side. Turning to Tonks, he said, "When I give the word, start the adoption immediately. Go as quickly as you are able, but do not rush. It will likely be tiring for me to hold the scar in its new place, but we cannot risk mistakes in this. Are you ready?"

Tonks nodded, her hair turning jet black and spikey with determination.

Standing a few feet back, where he would not be in the way of the standard portion of the adoption ritual, Dumbledore drew his wand and, with a small flourish, pointed it at Harry's scar. He didn't speak an incantation, but slowly the scar began to move sideways across Harry's forehead. After dipping down his temple, the jagged scar disappeared into the skin at the edge of Harry's hairline behind his right ear.

"Now." Dumbledore's single word to Tonks sounded like it cost him something to say—he stood easily and his wand was steady, but clearly even with the shimmering white elasticity potion it took a large amount of magical energy to hold the scar even 8" from its usual spot.

Tonks began the adoption ritual, her voice unusually serious. "Do you, Severus Tobias Snape and Maureen Lara O'Malley, agree to adopt this child, making him blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, heart of your hearts?"

They answered in unison, "We do."

"Do you, Harry James Potter, consent to be adopted of Severus Tobias Snape and Maureen Lara O'Malley?"

His voice trembled, but Harry was not a Gryffindor for nothing. He did not hesitate in answering "I do."

Taking the small dagger and bowl from the table, Tonks walked to Madam O'Malley and handed her the dagger. Still more serious than Harry had ever heard her, she intoned: "If you would have this boy be your son, let your blood flow into this bowl by your own hand, so that it may flow through him."

Taking the dagger, Madam O'Malley cut into her palm and twisted, letting blood flow freely into the small bowl. When enough was collected, she wiped the knife on her handkerchief and handed it back to Snape, then used her wand to silently heal the cut in her hand.

Tonks brought the dagger and bowl to Snape, repeating the same words. Snape did as the woman had done, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts or feelings.

Walking to stand in front of Harry, Tonks dipped the dagger in the bowl, swirling it around to mix the blood. Withdrawing the dagger, she used the flat of the blade to draw symbols in the mixed blood on the palms of Harry's hands. Kneeling, she set the bowl down (with a sigh of relief, which reminded everyone to be nervous about her clumsiness), and did the the same on Harry's bare feet. Rising, she drew similar symbols on Harry's strangely bare forehead. Dipping the blade once more, she drew it across his closed mouth, darkening his lips.

Perhaps strangely, none of the blood dripped, though Harry found that it did tickle (as he tried valiantly not to think about it). But then, it was a magical ritual.

Putting the dagger away in a fold of her robe (much to Harry's unspoken relief), Tonks looked once again to the adults flanking the armchair. "What name do you give your son?"

"Hadrian Walter O'Malley Snape," answered Madam O'Malley.

Tonks held the bowl over Harry's head and began to speak, pouring the remaining blood onto the top of his head as she did so (where it neither dripped nor splashed).

"By word and by blood, in fact and in deed, become now Hadrian Walter O'Malley Snape." Switching into Latin, she repeated herself (or nearly). "Ex verbis sanguineque, in actioni et in nomini, puer nunc adoptaticius est."

Snape and Madam O'Malley joined in then, wands out, as the three of them chanted, weaving words and magic together as they stood in a triangle around Harry. The room grew brighter around the four of them as they went on, until they disappeared into a nimbus of white light.

At the center of all this magical activity, Harry shut his eyes against the brightness. His last thought before he lost consciousness was surprise that he could no longer feel the blood on his skin or scalp.

When the light cleared, Dumbledore quickly lowered his wand.

Ensconced in the armchair where Harry had sat was a boy who did not resemble him at all, apparently asleep. His dark hair lay flat against his head, long enough to brush the back of his neck. With his large arched nose, strong brows, thin face, and high cheekbones he bore a distinct resemblance to Snape, though his chin appeared to come from Madam O'Malley, as did his pale skin and the smattering of freckles visible on his face.

There was no trace of a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, and not a single drop of blood was visible, either on the boy or in the area around him.

Snape pulled yet another potion from his robes—this one Hermione thought she recognized as being a rather powerful pain relief drought and muscle relaxant—and spelled it into Harry's stomach.

When this was done, Dumbledore crossed to stand next to Snape and in front of the sleeping boy. Snape folded the boy's right ear forward and pulled the hair behind it back, allowing the two men a good glimpse of the infamous scar.

Even with the boy's hair pulled all the way back, it was half-hidden behind the boy's hairline, leaving only a few jagged lines visible, the outer ones apparently unconnected to the middle two lines, which met in a V.

Snape nodded to Dumbledore. Somewhat grudgingly he admitted, "That worked better than I expected."

Dumbledore beamed. "It exceeds even my own expectations, Severus. If anyone notices it—which seems unlikely—he can convincingly say that he acquired the scars while trying to give himself a haircut with a pair of enchanted scissors as a small boy… I knew a wizard once who had very similar marks from just such a mischievous childhood adventure, though they were on the back of his neck and thus rather more visible."

"That is utterly idiotic, but I suppose that will make it all the more convincing to anyone familiar with the boy."

Ignoring Snape's snide comment, Dumbledore summoned Harry's robe and slippers from Hermione's lap. He spelled the slippers onto the boy's feet and draped the robe over his sleeping frame, then sent the armchair gently sailing to a dark corner of the room. The boy who no longer looked like Harry did not stir.

Dumbledore conjured a second armchair, identical to the first, exactly where the first one had been. Turning to Hermione, he explained, "He will sleep for quite some time, probably into tomorrow.

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?" He gestured to the chair.

Hermione nodded. Leaving her own robe and slippers on the window seat, she went to sit in the newly-conjured purple plush armchair, noting with private pleasure that it was nearly as comfortable as the overstuffed armchairs in the Gryffindor Common Room.

This time Tonks took Hermione's previous place in the window, and Dumbledore led the ritual.

"Do you, Severus Tobias Snape and Maureen Lara O'Malley, agree to adopt this child, making her blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, heart of your hearts?" asked the headmaster.

For a second time they answered, "We do."

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, consent to be adopted of Severus Tobias Snape and Maureen Lara O'Malley?"

"I do," Hermione responded, chin up.

This time Dumbledore approached Snape first with the bowl and dagger, both of which appeared clean, as if they had not been used in the first ritual. The headmaster spoke: "If you would have this girl be your daughter, let your blood flow into this bowl by your own hand, so that it may flow through her."

When Snape had finished with dagger and bowl, Dumbledore took them to Madam O'Malley and repeated the words and procedure.

Standing in front of Hermione, Dumbledore did as Tonks had done, first using the dagger to mix the blood, then using the flat of the blade to draw symbols in blood on her hands, feet, and forehead before drawing the bloody blade across Hermione's firmly closed lips.

The small part of Hermione's brain that was not occupied either with following the ritual or registering disgust at the sensation of blood on her lips noticed that once again the blood did not appear to be dripping at all.

"What name do you give your daughter?"

Again it was Madam O'Malley who answered. "Helena Marlene O'Malley Snape."

Holding the bowl over Hermione's head, Dumbledore intoned: "By word and by blood, in fact and in deed, become now Helena Marlene O'Malley Snape." As he did so, he tipped the bowl, pouring the blood onto the top of Hermione's head.

Switching into Latin, the headmaster proclaimed, "ex verbis sanguineque, in actioni et in nomini, puella nunc adoptaticia est."

And once again there were three wands out, as Madam O'Malley joined Dumbledore in chanting, voices rising and falling as words and magic wove together to form bright light, no less intense than the light around Harry had been.

Hermione tried to catch the words, but the three were not speaking in unison, and the intensity of magic surrounding her was distracting. She shut her eyes against the growing brightness, and moments later she too lost consciousness.