They came out next to a fire which stood alone in the middle of a huge,
empty field. Marc looked around bemusedly. He couldn't see that they were
near any building, so where were they?
"Uh, is this the right place?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Severus absently, his eyes scanning the sky. "In my
profession, it's safer not to have Floo access directly into the house.
There, good, we've been spotted. It's about a five-minute walk back to the
house. And Harry. . . Marc. . . if things are going too fast, please just
say. I'd be worried if this wasn't odd for youHall
."
"Yes Father."
Marc followed his gaze and saw three circling birds. As he watched, one peeled off from the group and headed off into the distance, the other two keeping pace above them.
They walked in silence for a while, neither knowing how, or indeed particularly wishing to start conversation. When they were almost at the house, a huge, stately manor that appeared just as they walked over the brow of a hill, the door opened and a woman stood there, watching them, a boy next to her. Both had white blond hair and were waving at the newcomers. Severus waved back with a dry smile.
"Is that. . . I mean. . .are they..."
"Yes I am married, if that's what you're trying to ask. Students shouldn't expect to know every detail of their teachers' home lives, mine in particular. Her name is Altair, and the boy is called Galahad. He must have gone to warn her."
"He's an Animagus, some sort of bird, right?"
"Yes. You'll become one this summer as well. We have wards up so that you can use magic out of school without the ministry breathing down your neck. Remember, none of them know you were Potter, just that you're my son and that you've only just found out, due to the illusion charms placed upon you in your infancy. They have instructions not to pry, and I will deal with them personally if they do, understood?"
"Yes sir."
Marc stared as the other two birds dove towards the ground at startling speeds and morphed into humans as they landed. This pair, a boy and a girl, were older than Galahad, but younger than he was. Both had Severus' night black hair. Marc wasn't totally sure, but he thought they looked similar enough and close enough in age, to be twins.
"Perry and Merlyn," Severus murmured by way of introduction as they came up to the steps. He continued aloud. "This is it Marc, home. May I introduce you to Altair."
"Welcome home."
"Peregrine and Merlyn are fourteen and Galahad is eleven. This is Marcus, he's sixteen."
"Pleased to meet you," Marc said, looking at them nervously. They stared back.
"Come in, you lot," Altair said with a smile, breaking off their silent confrontation and evaluation of each other. "Did the clothes fit you, Marcus?"
"Yes, thank you, they're great," Marc replied gratefully, realising quickly that Severus hadn't been the mastermind behind that very practical idea.
"Excellent, you won't believe how bad Sev is at estimating sizes. That's why I do all the shopping. Now, tell me what colours you like and I'll order some for you."
"Uh, this blue's nice," Marc said, feeling rather helpless. He was getting sympathetic looks from the others in the family, who had no doubt all been under fire themselves some time in the past. Severus in particular looked very understanding, but then, if he always wore black, Marc could understand why - Altair would hardly want him swooping around as he did at school, a bit like an overgrown bat. He wasn't at all surprised when she frowned at him and said, sternly,
"You are not having a single colour wardrobe. The number of times I've had this argument. . ."
"Okay," Marc said hastily, thinking desperately. "How's green? Maroon?"
"Great. Why don't you kids go upstairs and show Marcus his bedroom?"
"OK Mum," the older boy, Peregrine, said. "This way Marcus, or is it Marc?"
"Marc, please."
"Cool, I'll remember. I'm Perry, by the way. Merlyn's just Merlyn, and if you come up with a decent nickname for Galahad, he'll be eternally in your debt. Best we've managed is Gad, which just sounds dumb. Gal's too girly, of course. Here we go, this is your place."
Marc pushed open the indicated door and went in. The others followed him curiously, not having been involved in the decorating stage themselves. The room greatly resembled his new Hogwarts room; it was just bigger. On his bed was a sleek, silver broomstick. Marc gasped, as he looked it over with a practiced eye. There was only one broom that it could be.
"A Laser! Wow!"
"Dad said you played Quidditch, so we recommended this broom. It's the same one that we've all got." Merlyn explained. "What position do you normally play?"
"Seeker," Marc replied, somewhat bewildered at such generosity. The Laser was supposed to be the same amount above the Firebolt in standard as the Firebolt was above the old Nimbus 2001 and very, very expensive.
"That's good, none of us do. There aren't enough of us to play proper games, but we still train and play mini matches, you know, with limited balls. Perry and I like being Beaters best, and we're just starting to teach Galahad to play Keeper. He wasn't allowed a proper broom until he turned eleven, just a baby broom that wouldn't go more than a metre above the ground. Are you good?"
Marc smirked at them, then stopped as he realized how much like his father he probably looked.
"I'm not bad. It's okay for us to play here then? I wouldn't have thought. . ."
"Oh," Perry said, catching on. "You're worried about Muggles. We've got a pitch round the back, and its charmed to stop the balls escaping. The whole estate has Muggle-repelling charms on it, always has. Say, are you at Hogwarts?"
What on earth had brought that question on? Marc wasn't even sure that he was allowed to answer it.
"You can tell them if you want, Marc," said Severus, putting his head around the door. "We've set up charms, something like the Fidelius, so that they couldn't tell anyone out of the family anything you've said about your previous life."
"Okay then, yeah, I'm at Hogwarts. I'm just about to start my sixth year."
"We're coming next year. Mum's taught us at home herself until now."
"And you're all Animagi?"
"Yeah, even Galahad. He's only just learned. I don't know why, but we're all different types of falcon. Dad's keen on us learning, so I guess you will too."
"Is there a way of telling what I'd be?"
"Yes, but Perry can't do it," Galahad said impishly. His brother glared at him.
"Neither can you, brat, so shut up about it. You'd better, Merlyn, before I teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry."
Merlyn smiled indulgently at them, pulled out her wand and focussed hard on Marc. Then she frowned.
"I'm sorry, Marc, but I can't seem to get a clear reading. I'm seeing two, maybe three, different animals. I guess you'll have to wait until you learn. Um, if you don't mind me asking, what's it like at Hogwarts?"
Marc realised something, fascinated.
"Haven't you ever been to school before? Not even primary school?" They shook their heads.
"We've seen other kids in Diagon Alley a few times, but not to talk to. Do you know what Dad does, other than his usual job?"
"Yes."
"He's afraid that people from either side could use us as hostages. It also means that we don't have to become Death Eaters, which can only be a good thing. The only person that knows about us, I think, is Mr Dumbledore."
"Not anymore. Remus Lupin guessed today, but he won't tell anyone. Maybe some of the other staff know. Professor McGonagall handles admissions and timetabling, so she probably does. Say, have you ever seen Father in his 'greasy haired Potions git' mood?" Marc asked. Then he followed Perry's worried gaze and looked at the door. Severus was looking in disapprovingly.
"Sorry," Marc said quickly. "But it's true, even if it is just an act. I take it they've never seen you in action before."
"No, and no doubt they'll find it hilarious when they do."
"It's probably a good idea that I'm warning them. It wouldn't do any good if they burst out laughing the first time they saw it, and you do act really differently when you're at the school."
"I know. While we're on the subject of school, I heard your earlier comments to Nymphadora, and I would take it kindly if you do not reform the Marauders out of the Snape children. I know perfectly well that that was what you've been planning, Marcus, and it's not going to happen. Your word as wizard on it."
"Yes Father, my word as a wizard that I will not reform the Marauders out of the Snapes."
"Thank you."
He left, apparently satisfied. Marc waited a moment before speaking again.
"I think he said we can use magic out of school, right?"
"Yes," Merlyn said eagerly. "But who are the Marauders and why doesn't he like them?"
"Just a moment," Marc said, erecting some anti-listening wards around the room just in case Severus came back. "The Marauders were Father's worst enemies in school, and my foster fathers too. They were renowned for their pranks. Would you be interested? I happen to know that the resident jokers have just left, so there's definitely a vacancy just waiting to be filled."
"Dad said we couldn't be Marauders," Perry said doubtfully, looking automatically at the door.
"Yes," Marc agreed, his eyes gleaming. "But he said nothing at all about forming an entirely new group, did he?"
"That's right," Merlyn agreed, looking positively demonic. "Count me in."
"And us," Perry said, slightly more reluctantly. He seemed to feel he had a position of responsibility to maintain.
"Great. Now, why don't you let me get settled for a while? Just remember, not a word to Father."
Marc's three younger half-siblings smirked and left, leaving him alone once again.
"Yes Father."
Marc followed his gaze and saw three circling birds. As he watched, one peeled off from the group and headed off into the distance, the other two keeping pace above them.
They walked in silence for a while, neither knowing how, or indeed particularly wishing to start conversation. When they were almost at the house, a huge, stately manor that appeared just as they walked over the brow of a hill, the door opened and a woman stood there, watching them, a boy next to her. Both had white blond hair and were waving at the newcomers. Severus waved back with a dry smile.
"Is that. . . I mean. . .are they..."
"Yes I am married, if that's what you're trying to ask. Students shouldn't expect to know every detail of their teachers' home lives, mine in particular. Her name is Altair, and the boy is called Galahad. He must have gone to warn her."
"He's an Animagus, some sort of bird, right?"
"Yes. You'll become one this summer as well. We have wards up so that you can use magic out of school without the ministry breathing down your neck. Remember, none of them know you were Potter, just that you're my son and that you've only just found out, due to the illusion charms placed upon you in your infancy. They have instructions not to pry, and I will deal with them personally if they do, understood?"
"Yes sir."
Marc stared as the other two birds dove towards the ground at startling speeds and morphed into humans as they landed. This pair, a boy and a girl, were older than Galahad, but younger than he was. Both had Severus' night black hair. Marc wasn't totally sure, but he thought they looked similar enough and close enough in age, to be twins.
"Perry and Merlyn," Severus murmured by way of introduction as they came up to the steps. He continued aloud. "This is it Marc, home. May I introduce you to Altair."
"Welcome home."
"Peregrine and Merlyn are fourteen and Galahad is eleven. This is Marcus, he's sixteen."
"Pleased to meet you," Marc said, looking at them nervously. They stared back.
"Come in, you lot," Altair said with a smile, breaking off their silent confrontation and evaluation of each other. "Did the clothes fit you, Marcus?"
"Yes, thank you, they're great," Marc replied gratefully, realising quickly that Severus hadn't been the mastermind behind that very practical idea.
"Excellent, you won't believe how bad Sev is at estimating sizes. That's why I do all the shopping. Now, tell me what colours you like and I'll order some for you."
"Uh, this blue's nice," Marc said, feeling rather helpless. He was getting sympathetic looks from the others in the family, who had no doubt all been under fire themselves some time in the past. Severus in particular looked very understanding, but then, if he always wore black, Marc could understand why - Altair would hardly want him swooping around as he did at school, a bit like an overgrown bat. He wasn't at all surprised when she frowned at him and said, sternly,
"You are not having a single colour wardrobe. The number of times I've had this argument. . ."
"Okay," Marc said hastily, thinking desperately. "How's green? Maroon?"
"Great. Why don't you kids go upstairs and show Marcus his bedroom?"
"OK Mum," the older boy, Peregrine, said. "This way Marcus, or is it Marc?"
"Marc, please."
"Cool, I'll remember. I'm Perry, by the way. Merlyn's just Merlyn, and if you come up with a decent nickname for Galahad, he'll be eternally in your debt. Best we've managed is Gad, which just sounds dumb. Gal's too girly, of course. Here we go, this is your place."
Marc pushed open the indicated door and went in. The others followed him curiously, not having been involved in the decorating stage themselves. The room greatly resembled his new Hogwarts room; it was just bigger. On his bed was a sleek, silver broomstick. Marc gasped, as he looked it over with a practiced eye. There was only one broom that it could be.
"A Laser! Wow!"
"Dad said you played Quidditch, so we recommended this broom. It's the same one that we've all got." Merlyn explained. "What position do you normally play?"
"Seeker," Marc replied, somewhat bewildered at such generosity. The Laser was supposed to be the same amount above the Firebolt in standard as the Firebolt was above the old Nimbus 2001 and very, very expensive.
"That's good, none of us do. There aren't enough of us to play proper games, but we still train and play mini matches, you know, with limited balls. Perry and I like being Beaters best, and we're just starting to teach Galahad to play Keeper. He wasn't allowed a proper broom until he turned eleven, just a baby broom that wouldn't go more than a metre above the ground. Are you good?"
Marc smirked at them, then stopped as he realized how much like his father he probably looked.
"I'm not bad. It's okay for us to play here then? I wouldn't have thought. . ."
"Oh," Perry said, catching on. "You're worried about Muggles. We've got a pitch round the back, and its charmed to stop the balls escaping. The whole estate has Muggle-repelling charms on it, always has. Say, are you at Hogwarts?"
What on earth had brought that question on? Marc wasn't even sure that he was allowed to answer it.
"You can tell them if you want, Marc," said Severus, putting his head around the door. "We've set up charms, something like the Fidelius, so that they couldn't tell anyone out of the family anything you've said about your previous life."
"Okay then, yeah, I'm at Hogwarts. I'm just about to start my sixth year."
"We're coming next year. Mum's taught us at home herself until now."
"And you're all Animagi?"
"Yeah, even Galahad. He's only just learned. I don't know why, but we're all different types of falcon. Dad's keen on us learning, so I guess you will too."
"Is there a way of telling what I'd be?"
"Yes, but Perry can't do it," Galahad said impishly. His brother glared at him.
"Neither can you, brat, so shut up about it. You'd better, Merlyn, before I teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry."
Merlyn smiled indulgently at them, pulled out her wand and focussed hard on Marc. Then she frowned.
"I'm sorry, Marc, but I can't seem to get a clear reading. I'm seeing two, maybe three, different animals. I guess you'll have to wait until you learn. Um, if you don't mind me asking, what's it like at Hogwarts?"
Marc realised something, fascinated.
"Haven't you ever been to school before? Not even primary school?" They shook their heads.
"We've seen other kids in Diagon Alley a few times, but not to talk to. Do you know what Dad does, other than his usual job?"
"Yes."
"He's afraid that people from either side could use us as hostages. It also means that we don't have to become Death Eaters, which can only be a good thing. The only person that knows about us, I think, is Mr Dumbledore."
"Not anymore. Remus Lupin guessed today, but he won't tell anyone. Maybe some of the other staff know. Professor McGonagall handles admissions and timetabling, so she probably does. Say, have you ever seen Father in his 'greasy haired Potions git' mood?" Marc asked. Then he followed Perry's worried gaze and looked at the door. Severus was looking in disapprovingly.
"Sorry," Marc said quickly. "But it's true, even if it is just an act. I take it they've never seen you in action before."
"No, and no doubt they'll find it hilarious when they do."
"It's probably a good idea that I'm warning them. It wouldn't do any good if they burst out laughing the first time they saw it, and you do act really differently when you're at the school."
"I know. While we're on the subject of school, I heard your earlier comments to Nymphadora, and I would take it kindly if you do not reform the Marauders out of the Snape children. I know perfectly well that that was what you've been planning, Marcus, and it's not going to happen. Your word as wizard on it."
"Yes Father, my word as a wizard that I will not reform the Marauders out of the Snapes."
"Thank you."
He left, apparently satisfied. Marc waited a moment before speaking again.
"I think he said we can use magic out of school, right?"
"Yes," Merlyn said eagerly. "But who are the Marauders and why doesn't he like them?"
"Just a moment," Marc said, erecting some anti-listening wards around the room just in case Severus came back. "The Marauders were Father's worst enemies in school, and my foster fathers too. They were renowned for their pranks. Would you be interested? I happen to know that the resident jokers have just left, so there's definitely a vacancy just waiting to be filled."
"Dad said we couldn't be Marauders," Perry said doubtfully, looking automatically at the door.
"Yes," Marc agreed, his eyes gleaming. "But he said nothing at all about forming an entirely new group, did he?"
"That's right," Merlyn agreed, looking positively demonic. "Count me in."
"And us," Perry said, slightly more reluctantly. He seemed to feel he had a position of responsibility to maintain.
"Great. Now, why don't you let me get settled for a while? Just remember, not a word to Father."
Marc's three younger half-siblings smirked and left, leaving him alone once again.