Title: The Other Side of the Castle
Author: Me, who else? AKA Rachel Curtis
Genre: Harry Potter, Second Generation Fic . . . whoo, I get to make up names.
Disclaimer: Everything about Hogwarts and its cannon characters belong to JK Rowling, but we all got that right? Some of the characters are mine or borrowed from others because we all played RPG together. So yeah, no stealing in any case.
*~*~*
Chapter Two: Buying Up Supplies
The early morning sunlight was just warming the air, causing the dew to sparkle on the long spears of grass. It was probably getting too long, evidence that the gardener wasn't taking proper care; then again, he complained that the grass in their yard grew unnaturally fast. In the beginning hours of the day it was so green and fresh, with so many lush plants spilling over and blooming in their beds and the trees so tall and magnificently dressed in their summer glory.
Ketara stood in the middle of the lawn, her bare feet buried in the overgrown grass. The dew had dampened the cuff of her loose white cotton bottoms, making them grey and clammy as they brushed over her feet. It was a generously cut outfit, made for freedom of movement rather than fashionable taste. It did not flatter what form she had, though as she wasn't even near full grown it did not matter much.
She did look the part of a tall little girl; she was already well over five feet but with a chest as flat as a boy and no hips to speak of she appeared very young. It did not help to note that her mother was not particularly curvy herself and that Ketara was probably doomed to have a boyishly slim build even into adulthood.
She brought her arm around, flowing gracefully through the movements like sand through an hourglass. It was supposed to be relaxing, a meditative exercise that mimicked martial arts. That type of exercise was another that she participated in and enjoyed, and one that her mother encouraged.
They would go shopping today. Mother had promised which was legally binding as far as Ketara was concerned. She never broke her word, not once in all the time that Ketara had known her, which was her whole life. Kyara did what she said she would, and always got her way. Usually that is, sometimes father did something surprising that got mother riled up and angry enough that she locked him out of their room. Ketara didn't like it when that happened.
As she turned to face the house the expression of serene concentration on her face dissolved to an angry scowl. Kieran was leaning on the railing, dressed in some sort of elegantly simple outfit. His night black hair was scruffy and wild, but somehow managing to look becoming against his fair face. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement and he came down the steps and across the lawn.
"Morning, sister dearest," he said. He made a move to kiss her cheek but was rebuked by a palm on his chest. "Trying to find some of the elusive grace I see."
His features were sharper than hers, the well formed bones of his face draped with almost translucent skin. He had always had a sort of glow about him, the contrasts of the delicate skin, dark lashes that brushed his cheeks and hazel eyes never ceased to attract him attention. When paired with Ketara, her rounded cheeks, strong chin and eyes like a jungle dream it was hard to not stare.
"Sticking your foot in your mouth early, I see," Ketara retorted. She stepped back from him and then around as she made for the house.
"Foot doesn't fit." He matched her stride, at thirteen he was easily 3 inches taller than her, nearing 5'8".
Her feet slapped on the stone steps but she kept the quick pace across the flagstones and too the French doors that led into the sunny atrium. "I grantee you that it does, Kier, you've got a particular talent for shoving it in there."
"You're opinion."
"Yes, and it is correct." She was standing over the kitchen table, picking at the fruit there. Maybe she could make some toast or something.
"Mum told me to tell you that she'll have to meet us at Terrebonne for lunch, she has to do something at work this morning."
"What?" Ketara whirled about and glared at him, he was leaning on the doorframe now, all smug and superior. "When did she tell you that?"
"When you were prancing in the garden, love. You'll have to come with me so get moving, we're leaving in ten." He smirked then and turned, snickering herself as she cursed and raced upstairs.
Ketara had picked out the outfit of a marginally well fitted white jumper and a skirt of brown corduroy. The socks were a matching white, and the shoes were shiny black. She had left her hair in the braid from sleep, and so her face was quite bare as she followed her brother through the crowds at Diagon alley.
She had never come here without a parent and never for the supplies that would be needed to get her through a year of schooling away from home. She stared wide eyed at the mass of people, most of whom seemed to be children and parents, all intent on the same thing-supplies.
"Ket," Kieran said, turning towards her. He dropped a small bag of coins into her hand. "You have your list, get moving."
"What? No, Kieran, you can't leave me."
"Yes," he snapped, "I can. I'm going to the Quidditch supply store to pick up my broom."
"I'll come with you," Ketara said, her voice verging on panic. She stared at him, wanting to beg him to stay.
He sneered and shook his head, "I'm not going to hang around with my snotty little sister all morning. I'll find you in time for lunch." With that note he swung off into the crowd and she soon lost sight of him.
The fluttering in her stomach grew such that Ketara thought she might lose the little breakfast she'd had that morning. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't remember where anything was and the mash of people was making it very hard to breathe. She had gone very pale, and her eyes were as wide as they could go.
"Hey, you lost?"
Ketara started and turned to face a boy with a mop of floppy chestnut hair and what she would call rather dull hazel eyes behind a pair of round spectacles. He had a round face, a good nose and a sort of lost expression himself, but obviously concerned. He wasn't that bad looking, she decided, but she also wasn't one to trust people she didn't know.
Her lack of response was making him nervous, what was she looking at anyway? Pretty eyes, nice hair, but aloof like a-
"James, who have you met there?" A man came over to them, with black hair every bit as messy as his son's, similar round spectacles slipping down his nose and a scar just barely visible. He wore a white shirt tucked into grey pants and scuffed brown oxfords. He grinned when he saw her and inclined his head politely.
"Are you lost?" Like father like son.
"You're Harry Potter," Ketara accused. Everyone knew the tales of the Boy Who Lived and his many exciting exploits. He had also been a Gryffindor, though despite that Mother had some respect for him.
He blinked but nodded his head; the good natured smile remained on his face. "Yes, and my son James. You are?"
"Ketara Tikadam."
"Are you related to-who was it then-," He fumbled for the name. "Kyara?"
"She's my mother," Ketara retorted.
It was Harry's turn to frown as he looked at her, "I thought she married Vincent Damodred."
Ketara didn't like all the questions. They didn't need to know about her. Gryffindors didn't get along with Slytherins and she was sure that was where she would end up. "Yes."
"Then why isn't your last name Damodred?" James asked, leaping to that logical question only moments after his father.
Ketara smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "It is a single- minded and very male response to assume that a woman should have to change her name for her husband. Why shouldn't my last name be Tikadam? She is my mother, I am her daughter and she isn't so narrow minded about such things as you seem to be."
Both of them were startled by her response. Faintly in his memory Harry remembered that Kyara had been a particularly difficult girl to deal with, always spouting off complicated complaints for what might seem to be minor slights. Obviously the second generation took after that.
"Didn't mean to assume," Harry hushed. He laid a hand on his son's shoulder. The girl was a clever one with a quick mouth and doubtless she'd be quite pretty, if she wasn't already, when she got older. "Uh, we'd be happy to help though, you seemed a bit bewildered."
After a moments consideration she agreed. She couldn't begrudge someone for being nice, especially since her own brother had been such a fink and deserted her in her time of need. Who did he think he was, leaving her like that? To the Potters no less!
They made their way to Madam Malkin's first, though her daughter was now running the store. Out of respect for her mother she'd kept the name and worked with as much busy efficiency as her mother and had the pair in and out in less than fifteen minutes. She made a few comments about growing children and how dreadfully skinny they both were, didn't they ever eat?
The order at the book shop had been much then same, once they had given their year a pile of books had been shoved into their arms and coins exchanged for the heavy load. Ketara was starting to feel more than irritated at her brother, this stuff was heavy and she didn't think she'd be able to carry it all. Harry and James were disgustingly cheery, making interested comments about it all, doubtless planning to go home and study hard to prepare for school.
They were nearing the end of the morning when they arrived at Ollivander's. Ketara was grumpy from having to carry stuff, even though Mr. Potter was now holding her potion supplies, three of her new books, and the cage that would be used to transport her cat that was at home. She had to admit it was very nice of him to carry her stuff, but it also bothered her that she wasn't quite managing it all by herself.
"Wand, now this is something that will become your most important tool, now and for the rest of your life."
Ketara glanced at Harry, an odd expression on her face. He certainly did seem to say wise things for someone who was raised by muggles and a Gryffindor as well. She turned to watch as a man with wild white hair climbed slowly down the ladder and came to meet them.
"Ah, Young Potter and . . . Tikadam," He wheezed. "Your mother didn't buy her wand here, but your father, yes; his was a difficult wand to find."
She stared at him, wondering whether to be insulted or not. He was too quick for her as he whipped a box out and showed its contents to James.
"Unicorn hair, Ash, 8 and ¾ inches," he announced. James looked a bit pale, Ketara thought, but he reached out and took the wand and gave it the usual wave. Nothing happened.
The ancient man grunted and snatched the wand back, stuffing it in the box as he went to retrieve another. Ketara grew rather bored with the wait as it took six tries before James managed to do anything with it. She decided he might be defective and unlike his father probably wasn't good for much anyway. In the end he wound up with Dragon Heartstring, Oak, 9 and ½ inches.
"A practical wand, good for charm work if you've got the right hand with it. Which you will, you will," he turned to look at Ketara, his bleary eyes rolling over her slim form. "Let me see."
He turned to hunt up a wand and left Ketara with a frown on her face. It was about time that he saw to her, imagine making her wait all this time, and she was hungry too, she was sure that it was lunchtime-
"Ketara!" She turned to see her father, a man with a well formed face and obviously fair skin. His eyes were very deep green, darker than mother's, and his black hair was always awfully unruly since it had a slight wave to it. The expression on his face was one of relief as he rushed forward to hug her. He blinked as he saw the wide eyed Harry and son. "Potter."
Harry opened his mouth but turned to the door to find a tall, lavishly dressed woman dragging a boy by the ear. Another boy, about ten, with bowl cut wavy black hair followed, his green eyes dancing, mouth set in a smirk and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark jeans.
"You even think of abandoning your sister again and you won't touch that broom for a month, do you hear me?" Kyara was saying. Her tone was harsh and angry, her grip firm on Kieran's ear. He didn't look so suave now, even in his sharp black outfit, hauling several packages-one of which was most certainly a broom-when his mother, a glory in emerald velvet, dragged on his ear.
"She's alright, Kya," Vincent said as he set Ketara down. Reluctantly she let go of Kieran who rubbed his ear and glared at a giggling Kyros. Vincent turned to look at Potter, "I think I owe you a thank you, Potter, looked after her, didn't you?"
Harry nodded and grinned, quite amused to see that the coldly elegant Ice Queen he remembered acting angrily maternal. It was a tale to bring home. "She came along with James and I, we're almost done actually."
"It was good too, got everything and we even saw Uncle Ron at the Owl Emporium," James said eagerly. He grinned as Harry rubbed his hand on the boy's head.
Vincent nodded his thanks. He'd been sick with worry before, not knowing what might have become of his precious daughter when the crowds were thick. No father ever got used to it, and the worry was greater when the girl was pretty. She knew how to defend herself, Kyara would allow nothing less, but still he worried. After all, she didn't have defense against magic yet nor was she big enough or strong enough to hold of someone truly determined.
Ketara herself was distracted as the man with the wands finally returned. He held out a red box to her, and she took out the wand. "Phoenix feather, red wood, 10 and ¼ inches," he said.
She gave it a wave and was pleased as it set off sparks. First go, she thought with a smirk, better than some fickle handed idiot. She turned around to silence and was surprised as Vincent hugged her once again. "Father," she protested, trying not to poke him as she returned the embrace.
"Congratulations, Ket," Kyara said, with a proud smile. Her daughter was finally growing up, blooming into that darling beauty that she'd known Ketara would be from the day she was born.
"I'm starving," Kyros announced. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and even that had been hurried since Vincent had arrived early to pick him up from Aunt Kaitlyn's. Apparently they needed to meet mother and his siblings in London, though he still didn't see why that meant he wasn't allowed to eat. He was the youngest, and sorely disappointed to learn that Ket was going away too and he still had to wait a year.
Everyone turned to look at him and he turned a bit red around the edges. Kyara reached out to take his hand. "You'll have to join us, Mr. Potter," she said, and it could have easily been an order despite her effort to soften it.
"No no, it's quite alright, we've got other plans," Harry said.
Kyara frowned but nodded, "We are very thankful." She turned to lead her two sons from the store. Ketara's wand was paid for and Vincent took the packages from Harry and followed his wife. Harry stared after them, a perplexed expression playing on his face.
"What are you thinking, dad?" James asked.
Harry turned to look down at his son and grinned. "Just that, they aren't what I expected."
"What did you expect them to be?"
He shook his head and smiled. He wasn't quite sure what he expected Slytherins to be, but a loving family was not one of them.
Author: Me, who else? AKA Rachel Curtis
Genre: Harry Potter, Second Generation Fic . . . whoo, I get to make up names.
Disclaimer: Everything about Hogwarts and its cannon characters belong to JK Rowling, but we all got that right? Some of the characters are mine or borrowed from others because we all played RPG together. So yeah, no stealing in any case.
*~*~*
Chapter Two: Buying Up Supplies
The early morning sunlight was just warming the air, causing the dew to sparkle on the long spears of grass. It was probably getting too long, evidence that the gardener wasn't taking proper care; then again, he complained that the grass in their yard grew unnaturally fast. In the beginning hours of the day it was so green and fresh, with so many lush plants spilling over and blooming in their beds and the trees so tall and magnificently dressed in their summer glory.
Ketara stood in the middle of the lawn, her bare feet buried in the overgrown grass. The dew had dampened the cuff of her loose white cotton bottoms, making them grey and clammy as they brushed over her feet. It was a generously cut outfit, made for freedom of movement rather than fashionable taste. It did not flatter what form she had, though as she wasn't even near full grown it did not matter much.
She did look the part of a tall little girl; she was already well over five feet but with a chest as flat as a boy and no hips to speak of she appeared very young. It did not help to note that her mother was not particularly curvy herself and that Ketara was probably doomed to have a boyishly slim build even into adulthood.
She brought her arm around, flowing gracefully through the movements like sand through an hourglass. It was supposed to be relaxing, a meditative exercise that mimicked martial arts. That type of exercise was another that she participated in and enjoyed, and one that her mother encouraged.
They would go shopping today. Mother had promised which was legally binding as far as Ketara was concerned. She never broke her word, not once in all the time that Ketara had known her, which was her whole life. Kyara did what she said she would, and always got her way. Usually that is, sometimes father did something surprising that got mother riled up and angry enough that she locked him out of their room. Ketara didn't like it when that happened.
As she turned to face the house the expression of serene concentration on her face dissolved to an angry scowl. Kieran was leaning on the railing, dressed in some sort of elegantly simple outfit. His night black hair was scruffy and wild, but somehow managing to look becoming against his fair face. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement and he came down the steps and across the lawn.
"Morning, sister dearest," he said. He made a move to kiss her cheek but was rebuked by a palm on his chest. "Trying to find some of the elusive grace I see."
His features were sharper than hers, the well formed bones of his face draped with almost translucent skin. He had always had a sort of glow about him, the contrasts of the delicate skin, dark lashes that brushed his cheeks and hazel eyes never ceased to attract him attention. When paired with Ketara, her rounded cheeks, strong chin and eyes like a jungle dream it was hard to not stare.
"Sticking your foot in your mouth early, I see," Ketara retorted. She stepped back from him and then around as she made for the house.
"Foot doesn't fit." He matched her stride, at thirteen he was easily 3 inches taller than her, nearing 5'8".
Her feet slapped on the stone steps but she kept the quick pace across the flagstones and too the French doors that led into the sunny atrium. "I grantee you that it does, Kier, you've got a particular talent for shoving it in there."
"You're opinion."
"Yes, and it is correct." She was standing over the kitchen table, picking at the fruit there. Maybe she could make some toast or something.
"Mum told me to tell you that she'll have to meet us at Terrebonne for lunch, she has to do something at work this morning."
"What?" Ketara whirled about and glared at him, he was leaning on the doorframe now, all smug and superior. "When did she tell you that?"
"When you were prancing in the garden, love. You'll have to come with me so get moving, we're leaving in ten." He smirked then and turned, snickering herself as she cursed and raced upstairs.
Ketara had picked out the outfit of a marginally well fitted white jumper and a skirt of brown corduroy. The socks were a matching white, and the shoes were shiny black. She had left her hair in the braid from sleep, and so her face was quite bare as she followed her brother through the crowds at Diagon alley.
She had never come here without a parent and never for the supplies that would be needed to get her through a year of schooling away from home. She stared wide eyed at the mass of people, most of whom seemed to be children and parents, all intent on the same thing-supplies.
"Ket," Kieran said, turning towards her. He dropped a small bag of coins into her hand. "You have your list, get moving."
"What? No, Kieran, you can't leave me."
"Yes," he snapped, "I can. I'm going to the Quidditch supply store to pick up my broom."
"I'll come with you," Ketara said, her voice verging on panic. She stared at him, wanting to beg him to stay.
He sneered and shook his head, "I'm not going to hang around with my snotty little sister all morning. I'll find you in time for lunch." With that note he swung off into the crowd and she soon lost sight of him.
The fluttering in her stomach grew such that Ketara thought she might lose the little breakfast she'd had that morning. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't remember where anything was and the mash of people was making it very hard to breathe. She had gone very pale, and her eyes were as wide as they could go.
"Hey, you lost?"
Ketara started and turned to face a boy with a mop of floppy chestnut hair and what she would call rather dull hazel eyes behind a pair of round spectacles. He had a round face, a good nose and a sort of lost expression himself, but obviously concerned. He wasn't that bad looking, she decided, but she also wasn't one to trust people she didn't know.
Her lack of response was making him nervous, what was she looking at anyway? Pretty eyes, nice hair, but aloof like a-
"James, who have you met there?" A man came over to them, with black hair every bit as messy as his son's, similar round spectacles slipping down his nose and a scar just barely visible. He wore a white shirt tucked into grey pants and scuffed brown oxfords. He grinned when he saw her and inclined his head politely.
"Are you lost?" Like father like son.
"You're Harry Potter," Ketara accused. Everyone knew the tales of the Boy Who Lived and his many exciting exploits. He had also been a Gryffindor, though despite that Mother had some respect for him.
He blinked but nodded his head; the good natured smile remained on his face. "Yes, and my son James. You are?"
"Ketara Tikadam."
"Are you related to-who was it then-," He fumbled for the name. "Kyara?"
"She's my mother," Ketara retorted.
It was Harry's turn to frown as he looked at her, "I thought she married Vincent Damodred."
Ketara didn't like all the questions. They didn't need to know about her. Gryffindors didn't get along with Slytherins and she was sure that was where she would end up. "Yes."
"Then why isn't your last name Damodred?" James asked, leaping to that logical question only moments after his father.
Ketara smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "It is a single- minded and very male response to assume that a woman should have to change her name for her husband. Why shouldn't my last name be Tikadam? She is my mother, I am her daughter and she isn't so narrow minded about such things as you seem to be."
Both of them were startled by her response. Faintly in his memory Harry remembered that Kyara had been a particularly difficult girl to deal with, always spouting off complicated complaints for what might seem to be minor slights. Obviously the second generation took after that.
"Didn't mean to assume," Harry hushed. He laid a hand on his son's shoulder. The girl was a clever one with a quick mouth and doubtless she'd be quite pretty, if she wasn't already, when she got older. "Uh, we'd be happy to help though, you seemed a bit bewildered."
After a moments consideration she agreed. She couldn't begrudge someone for being nice, especially since her own brother had been such a fink and deserted her in her time of need. Who did he think he was, leaving her like that? To the Potters no less!
They made their way to Madam Malkin's first, though her daughter was now running the store. Out of respect for her mother she'd kept the name and worked with as much busy efficiency as her mother and had the pair in and out in less than fifteen minutes. She made a few comments about growing children and how dreadfully skinny they both were, didn't they ever eat?
The order at the book shop had been much then same, once they had given their year a pile of books had been shoved into their arms and coins exchanged for the heavy load. Ketara was starting to feel more than irritated at her brother, this stuff was heavy and she didn't think she'd be able to carry it all. Harry and James were disgustingly cheery, making interested comments about it all, doubtless planning to go home and study hard to prepare for school.
They were nearing the end of the morning when they arrived at Ollivander's. Ketara was grumpy from having to carry stuff, even though Mr. Potter was now holding her potion supplies, three of her new books, and the cage that would be used to transport her cat that was at home. She had to admit it was very nice of him to carry her stuff, but it also bothered her that she wasn't quite managing it all by herself.
"Wand, now this is something that will become your most important tool, now and for the rest of your life."
Ketara glanced at Harry, an odd expression on her face. He certainly did seem to say wise things for someone who was raised by muggles and a Gryffindor as well. She turned to watch as a man with wild white hair climbed slowly down the ladder and came to meet them.
"Ah, Young Potter and . . . Tikadam," He wheezed. "Your mother didn't buy her wand here, but your father, yes; his was a difficult wand to find."
She stared at him, wondering whether to be insulted or not. He was too quick for her as he whipped a box out and showed its contents to James.
"Unicorn hair, Ash, 8 and ¾ inches," he announced. James looked a bit pale, Ketara thought, but he reached out and took the wand and gave it the usual wave. Nothing happened.
The ancient man grunted and snatched the wand back, stuffing it in the box as he went to retrieve another. Ketara grew rather bored with the wait as it took six tries before James managed to do anything with it. She decided he might be defective and unlike his father probably wasn't good for much anyway. In the end he wound up with Dragon Heartstring, Oak, 9 and ½ inches.
"A practical wand, good for charm work if you've got the right hand with it. Which you will, you will," he turned to look at Ketara, his bleary eyes rolling over her slim form. "Let me see."
He turned to hunt up a wand and left Ketara with a frown on her face. It was about time that he saw to her, imagine making her wait all this time, and she was hungry too, she was sure that it was lunchtime-
"Ketara!" She turned to see her father, a man with a well formed face and obviously fair skin. His eyes were very deep green, darker than mother's, and his black hair was always awfully unruly since it had a slight wave to it. The expression on his face was one of relief as he rushed forward to hug her. He blinked as he saw the wide eyed Harry and son. "Potter."
Harry opened his mouth but turned to the door to find a tall, lavishly dressed woman dragging a boy by the ear. Another boy, about ten, with bowl cut wavy black hair followed, his green eyes dancing, mouth set in a smirk and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark jeans.
"You even think of abandoning your sister again and you won't touch that broom for a month, do you hear me?" Kyara was saying. Her tone was harsh and angry, her grip firm on Kieran's ear. He didn't look so suave now, even in his sharp black outfit, hauling several packages-one of which was most certainly a broom-when his mother, a glory in emerald velvet, dragged on his ear.
"She's alright, Kya," Vincent said as he set Ketara down. Reluctantly she let go of Kieran who rubbed his ear and glared at a giggling Kyros. Vincent turned to look at Potter, "I think I owe you a thank you, Potter, looked after her, didn't you?"
Harry nodded and grinned, quite amused to see that the coldly elegant Ice Queen he remembered acting angrily maternal. It was a tale to bring home. "She came along with James and I, we're almost done actually."
"It was good too, got everything and we even saw Uncle Ron at the Owl Emporium," James said eagerly. He grinned as Harry rubbed his hand on the boy's head.
Vincent nodded his thanks. He'd been sick with worry before, not knowing what might have become of his precious daughter when the crowds were thick. No father ever got used to it, and the worry was greater when the girl was pretty. She knew how to defend herself, Kyara would allow nothing less, but still he worried. After all, she didn't have defense against magic yet nor was she big enough or strong enough to hold of someone truly determined.
Ketara herself was distracted as the man with the wands finally returned. He held out a red box to her, and she took out the wand. "Phoenix feather, red wood, 10 and ¼ inches," he said.
She gave it a wave and was pleased as it set off sparks. First go, she thought with a smirk, better than some fickle handed idiot. She turned around to silence and was surprised as Vincent hugged her once again. "Father," she protested, trying not to poke him as she returned the embrace.
"Congratulations, Ket," Kyara said, with a proud smile. Her daughter was finally growing up, blooming into that darling beauty that she'd known Ketara would be from the day she was born.
"I'm starving," Kyros announced. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and even that had been hurried since Vincent had arrived early to pick him up from Aunt Kaitlyn's. Apparently they needed to meet mother and his siblings in London, though he still didn't see why that meant he wasn't allowed to eat. He was the youngest, and sorely disappointed to learn that Ket was going away too and he still had to wait a year.
Everyone turned to look at him and he turned a bit red around the edges. Kyara reached out to take his hand. "You'll have to join us, Mr. Potter," she said, and it could have easily been an order despite her effort to soften it.
"No no, it's quite alright, we've got other plans," Harry said.
Kyara frowned but nodded, "We are very thankful." She turned to lead her two sons from the store. Ketara's wand was paid for and Vincent took the packages from Harry and followed his wife. Harry stared after them, a perplexed expression playing on his face.
"What are you thinking, dad?" James asked.
Harry turned to look down at his son and grinned. "Just that, they aren't what I expected."
"What did you expect them to be?"
He shook his head and smiled. He wasn't quite sure what he expected Slytherins to be, but a loving family was not one of them.