A/N: Here's the second to last chapter, at last. Hopefully, I'll have tied up just about all of the loose ends by the end of this one - tell me if there's something I haven't managed to remember/spot.
Half Blood Prince is coming out in (under) two days. Unfortunately I won't get it until Sunday evening cos I'm at a sailing competition but personally I can't wait. If she explicitly rules out the possibility of Harry being bi or gay, I will be really, really irritated but I doubt she will, however many 'love interests' she puts in.
After the epilogue, which will either be up tomorrow afternoon (British time) or early next week, there is likely to be a gap while I digest Half Blood Prince and dream up my next idea. I have a few already, so if something happens that I really don't like, I'll be doing AU after fifth year like the Sirius lovers did after OotP.
Thank you for all my reviews, that's been about all that's kept me going with this through exam season and I appreciate each and every one of them. So, without further ado, let's move on to the chapter……..
"Students, return to your common rooms immediately. Prefects, I am asking you to ensure that everyone remains there until order is restored," he said, the familiar voice perhaps the only thing that was keeping them from mass hysteria. They began to pour out of the hall, many of them in tears, the prefects calling out to shepherd strays back into the columns. "Minerva, perhaps you could see to it that Albus's body is looked after and someone had better call for the Aurors to deal with that lot."
"And James . . . Harry?" she asked quietly from where she stood beside him.
"We'll be in our quarters," Severus said softly, suddenly seeming subdued and helpless. "From what he's told me, he's exhausted and burnt. There is nothing we can do, except treat his wounds and hope. If Draco arrives, send him to Aberforth."
"And Smethley?"
"Give him to the Order when the rest of them arrive and confine him to Grimmauld Place. I think Harry would be the best person to talk to him and there's no point in putting him back in the dormitories: even the Ravenclaws would lynch him."
"I'll take care of things," she said, putting a comforting hand on his arm. "You look after Harry and I'll keep them away from you."
"More precisely we'll be in James' rooms - his password is in Parseltongue and while I have free access no one else does. Send a house elf with food and any messages."
She nodded and stepped away as the man knelt down next to his lover and, with a gentleness and strength few had ever seen in him, lifted him into his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.
Severus sighed, focussing on the task in hand to stop his tears from flowing. Albus's death so soon left a hole in him that he didn't even realise had been filled. He made his way past the rest of the staff, heading down towards the dungeons. He passed the slow moving Slytherin column.
"Is he going to be all right sir?" Archie asked, genuine concern written in his face.
"I don't know," Severus said blankly. "We can only hope."
"Alistair?"
"Keep him with you. He'll only suffer if he comes with me."
The prefect nodded and continued to shepherd his charges away. Severus reached their rooms, the portrait wordlessly swinging open as he approached and laid James on their bed. Deftly, he stripped the unconscious body and spread the soothing liniment into his skin. At last he stepped back and looked at his work.
"You'd better recover," he half threatened, though the half-choked sound betrayed his bantering tone. "Because I don't know what the rest of us are going to do if you don't."
Days passed.
Severus reapplied the burn potion methodically every four hours, looking anxiously for any signs of recovery. He paced anxiously around the room while waiting, learning the distances intimately: it was eleven paces to make a complete circuit of the bed, moved away from the wall for ease in potion applying, seven paces from the door to the wall, five from the chair to James's head.
James remained unconscious, his forehead creased with pain.
Two days after the battle, Ron and Hermione Weasley sat at the breakfast table. Ron was having his usual bowl of Muggle Frosties while Hermione nibbled her toast. He scooped the post owl out of the air with the ease of long practice, paid it and took the paper.
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, catching sight of the headline.
HERO HARRY RETURNS!
An exclusive press release from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday evening confirms the rumours that have been spreading like wildfire across the country and indeed across the world. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, hero of the wizarding world is alive! Harry, now twenty four, is currently at the school where he has been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts under the pseudonym 'James Evans' (James being his father's name, Evans his mother's surname).
On last Saturday evening, Lucius Malfoy, the Dark Lord, attacked Hogwarts School with a horde of Death Eaters. Students fled with only minimal injuries until a confrontation in the Great Hall led to the death of the great light wizard, Albus Dumbledore, felled by an Unforgiveable Avada Kedavra curse. "We thought it was all over" Ravenclaw student Jonathan Chambers told our reporter. "If they could kill Professor Dumbledore, who could beat them?" The answer came in the form of one Harry Potter, who Apparated directly into the Hall in a show of power that shocked many. Visiting his ancestral home for the weekend, he was alerted when the wards transferred to him.
"He was actually quite scary" said Hufflepuff Kathleen Greenly (13). "It was like he was glowing with power. We almost didn't recognise Professor Evans immediately but the Death Eaters looked terrified. We only saw the scar later". Potter proceeded to taunt Malfoy and then destroy him in a blaze of white light like that which killed Voldemort. Eyewitness accounts suggest that he called it 'Slytherin's Gift' and confirms rumours that he is the heir of Slytherin as well as the heir of Gryffindor. Truly a powerful young man.
However, power of this kind took its toll and we are now aware that he is hovering between life and death, concealed deep within Hogwarts' halls. This location is known only to mediwitch Poppy Pomfrey and the Hogwarts Potions Master, Severus Snape, who has led Slytherin House jointly with the young hero over the past year.
Should Harry Potter recover, we know that he will be welcomed back into the wizarding world with open arms. In fact, the holder of the Hogwarts wards is usually confirmed as the next headmaster of the school, though whether he accepts the position given his extreme young age remains to be seen.
At present, we can do nothing but send our good wishes for his recovery on the behalf of the Daily Prophet and the wizarding world as a whole and thank him for saving us again.
Hermione came to look over Ron's shoulder.
"They took their time," she said, sounding remarkably calm.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Harry's alive, aren't you happy?"
"Of course I am Ron."
"You knew already, didn't you?" he demanded, eyes narrowed.
"Yes, actually. I worked it out at the Harry Potter Festival. The poor man was really quite obvious when you knew what to look for. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but he all but begged me not to tell anyone - I think he wanted to be anonymous for the rest of his life, if he could."
"He always did hate the media stuff," Ron acknowledged reluctantly. Then he groaned. "Hermione, please tell me I didn't ask him for advice on a speech about himself."
"You did, I'm afraid."
"And at the Order meeting?"
"When you told he looked too old to be Harry Potter? Yes, I'm sorry to say that one happened too. I wouldn't worry too much, he thought it was hilarious."
"He would," Ron muttered darkly. Then he beamed again. "Come on Hermione, we've got to go to Hogwarts!"
On the fifth day, Madam Pomfrey was brought in by Dobby, Severus having altered the wards to allow her entrance. She was looking tired, her usually starched white uniform was covered in potion stains and the occasional spot of blood and her hair was tangled within its bun.
Despite her own condition, she looked at the bags under his eyes, the strained face and pulled a vial of a mild sleeping potion from the pocket of her apron and placed it on the coffee table. He scowled at it.
"As soon as I have finished examining James . . . Harry or whatever he's calling himself now, you are going to go to bed. I can apply potions just as well as you can and I assure he has nothing that I haven't seen before. You will do him no good if you collapse before he is better and he has to spend another few weeks nursing you."
Severus looked as if he might rebel and then sighed.
"He's through here," he said at last, gesturing that she should precede him into the bedroom."
She studied the still body carefully. It was levitated so it hovered a few centimetres over the bed and the naked form sparkled with the remains of the last application of burn potion. There seemed to have been no improvement on what she had been told his body had looked like before. Poppy took a deep breath and picked up the jar of potion left by the bed.
"He's not coming along quite as well as he hoped, so it's convenient that you've made a stronger version of the potion," she lied confidently, with the ease of long practice. "And I'll help the healing on with some charms. Severus could you help me apply the potion this time so that we are sure it is everywhere."
He nodded, looking confused and they smoothed it into his skin. As soon as they were done, he dragged her out into the living room and folded his arms across his chest.
"Mind telling me what that was about?" he asked. She glared at him, looking affronted that her professional abilities had been questioned, and cast a local silencing charm around them.
"Didn't you ever wonder how he recovered so fast after his accidents? He'd be up after just one night when you or I would have been in bed for a week. It's because he was Muggle raised. He has no idea what potions can do in terms of speed so if he's convinced he'll be healed very quickly, he will be. After finding this out on him in his first year, I've since used it with good success rates on Muggleborns. He's using his magic to heal his body - I'd never even known it was possible before!"
"You mean that he's augmenting the magical properties of the potions with just his belief?"
"Exactly that. If you don't believe me, watch his progress after this. I think that's all I can do for him right now. You're doing as good a job as I could right now and I've got a few students in the Infirmary that ran into the Death Eaters before they reached the Great Hall not to mention the hysterics."
"Thank you Poppy, I can manage."
"And for goodness sake, go to bed Severus! You've four hours that you can sleep in now, so use it!"
Severus kept watching, kept working and, as Poppy had said, after her visit the improvement in his lover's condition was marked and gave him great relief. The skin slowly healed; slowly but still faster than Severus could have hoped given his condition. A week after her visit, his skin was marred only by his numerous scars and a few traces of the terrible burns the crease was gone from his forehead.
As Severus applied the potion, he talked to James as Poppy had.
"Now you idiot, this is my very best potion, so you had better appreciate it and get well. I've been working on improving it and this is at least twice as good as the last one I tried on you yesterday."
He finished smothering the body in it and stood back to check his work. In front of his very eyes, he watched as the potion was absorbed into the skin and a wave passed over the body, the burns vanishing completely as it passed. He stared at James in wonder: was this what Poppy had been expecting from him? Had he done this with all of his potions before?
Severus leapt forwards to kneel by the bed as the hand nearest him twitched. Suddenly, James dropped the few centimetres to the bed and opened his eyes. He smiled.
"Ouch," he said ironically, his hand reaching out to grasp Severus's as he stared up at the ceiling, and promptly passed out again.
Severus stood there, stunned, for a few moments, then summoned a house elf.
"I need Madam Pomfrey here as quickly as possible," he snapped.
"It is one in the morning, Master Snape," the house elf replied cautiously.
"She won't mind. Get her now please."
The creature vanished with a pop and he waited for her, pacing impatiently around the room. They came within five minutes; Poppy was still in her nightgown.
"He woke up, Poppy!"
She smiled, delight and relief obvious in her expression.
"Did he say anything?" she asked eagerly.
Severus smiled, thinking back on how it was such a typical 'James' thing to say.
"Ouch."
Poppy laughed.
"I'll just take a look at him then and call me again when he wakes up - I assume he's sleeping now."
He nodded.
"That's what I would have expected. He's going to make it, Severus, he's out of danger now."
When James woke again, Poppy was called almost immediately. She hurried down through the corridors and was let in by a remarkably cheerful-looking Salazar Slytherin at the entrance. Since there was no real urgency, they felt it was unfair to impose on the house elves any more than necessary.
When she came into the bedroom, he was sitting up in bed, listening carefully as Severus reported to him all that he knew of the recent events.
"Poppy!" James exclaimed. "How is everyone?"
"No one as bad as you, young man," she said sternly, hiding her inner relief behind a stern face that she knew that he could see through. "A number in hysterics, a few cuts and bruises but you were our real worry."
"Thank Merlin for that."
She smiled fondly at him: days unconscious, worrying everyone near to death themselves and he woke up and asked about everyone else as if he was no one of consequence.
"Now, how are you feeling James? Or do you want me to call you Harry now?"
He considered it for a moment.
"Either is fine. I suppose I'll have to use Harry now that everyone will know. I rather liked being James for a while."
"And how are you feeling," she prompted, refusing to give him any more time to consider his answer.
"A bit sore," he admitted. She sighed.
"'A bit sore,' the man says. Honestly! Is that muscles, burns, headache or something else."
"Aches, so muscles I suppose. I didn't think I'd done anything that strenuous."
"You've been in this bed for almost a week," she managed to say calmly, watching as Severus concealed a smile. "Of course you're stiff and tired."
"That means I can get out of bed then? I need to go and talk to Abe, who knows how he's taking it."
"You are staying right here for at least another twenty four hours," Poppy said sternly. "I am not going to have you ruining all the work Severus and I have put into you by letting you over tire yourself."
"I can get up tomorrow then?"
"You may walk to the living room and spend the day there. You may not leave these quarters."
"Poppy!" he moaned.
"I'm bored Severus," James complained, managing to whine like a five year old stuck indoors on a rainy day. "I want to go play outside."
Severus smiled and thought a moment.
"We've played chess five times."
"And you beat me all five, no need to rub it in."
"You've read."
"Of course, I've read."
"And you even managed to catch up with your marking."
"I wasn't that behind!"
"And talk me into a game of Exploding Snap."
"Which I won. I'm quite proud of that one."
"Are you up to receiving visitors?"
Harry groaned.
"I don't think I'm even allowed."
"Now think. Did Poppy explicitly forbid you from having visitors?"
"No…. She just told me I had to stay in our quarters."
"So what's the problem?"
"Well, who would want to visit me? I'm sure they're busy with class work and their families and stuff."
"Ron and Hermione Weasley are upstairs, waiting for you to wake up."
"Really! Does Ron know?"
"It was in the paper a few days ago."
"Oh. Well, can I have them down here then?"
A few minutes later, the two Gryffindors burst into the room. Hermione leapt onto the sofa and hugged James. He however had no eyes for her, although he hugged back quite amicably, as he saw Ron hovering uncomfortably in the background.
"Hello Ron," he said, smiling.
"Harry?"
"It's me alright. You okay?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I've been better," James said with a grin as Hermione smacked him lightly on the side of his head.
"You get into a duel - without us I might add - and get yourself so badly burnt that you're unconscious for a week and all you have to say is that you've 'been better'."
"Well I have and it wasn't as much as a week."
"I give up," Hermione said, marching through to find Severus in the kitchen.
James and Ron looked at each other uncomfortably.
"I should have guessed," Ron said, sounding embarrassed.
"Not really. I'd been hiding for four years Ron, I was quite good at being James by that time. Hermione only guessed by fluke because she was watching me rather than Draco when we first met again."
"Still."
"Not your fault mate. So, what's happening upstairs? I'm not allowed to go up and Sev refuses to let me see the paper."
"Well, everyone knows you're you, if that makes any sense. The papers got hold of it and by the end of the day, everyone who didn't already know did. The kids at the school spread it around for all they were worth."
"I guess that's the end of any privacy I might have hoped for. How are people taking it?"
"Happy, I guess. Draco was storming around at one point until Hermione cornered him. I don't know what she said but it seemed to shut him up. You might want to talk to him when you're allowed. You're little protégé Alistair is getting very uncomfortable in all the attention so he's been hiding out in the Slytherin common room and the seventh years have been acting as bodyguards, much to Minerva's amusement."
"Oops."
"He'll live. He doesn't seem too shaken up about you being the Harry Potter though, product of being a Muggleborn first year, I suppose."
"That's one thing off my mind. Abe?"
"Aberforth Dumbledore? I don't think I've seen him at all . . . No, maybe I have. I caught sight of someone that might have been him with Draco a few days ago heading for the Great Hall. They've laid Albus's body out there - I think they're waiting for you before they hold the funeral."
"He seemed to be taking it okay?"
"Well, I'm not sure how well you can take losing your brother but he hasn't had a break down or tried to kill himself. There are people looking out for him at any rate."
"That's good. So how are the Cannons doing right now?" James asked, glad to get onto a subject where he was sure Ron would do most of the talking.
From the doorway into the kitchen, Severus and Hermione watched as they embarked on an emotive discussion of the Cannons' chances and latest games, moving around the mugs and pencils on the coffee table to demonstrate the various moves and tactics. Hermione sighed.
"Not again," she sighed. James turned to look at her and stuck out his tongue.
She smiled as she saw Severus shaking his head ruefully.
"He's been like that since we told him he wasn't allowed to go outside. Apparently being 'grounded' requires that he reverts to his teenage years."
A couple of mornings later, Poppy reluctantly agreed that James was just about recovered enough to eat his meals in the Great Hall so long as he followed her instructions, took it slowly, didn't go anywhere near a broomstick and didn't go chasing after any more dark lords.
However, departing from the security of their rooms meant that the issue in everyone's minds would have to be addressed: who would be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. James invited Minerva down to discuss it with him and Severus, not wanting to take a job that he had always assumed would be passed on to her, as long-time deputy head and head of Gryffindor House. She came immediately, though James wasn't sure whether that was because she wanted to see him again for the first time after the battle or whether she had decided that it was his duty to become Headmaster and had mentally adapted already.
"Minerva," he said as she came through the portrait hole, smiling at her from where he sat enthroned on the sofa, leaning against Severus's shoulder. He pulled himself into an upright position.
"James," she said, eyes sparkling. "Harry."
"Either will do," he said, amused. "Please, take a seat."
"Have you made your decision yet?" she asked.
"I think, my dear deputy, that that is what I should be asking you."
She chuckled softly at that.
"I never had any intention of accepting the post. Without Albus . . . I will be retiring as soon as a replacement can be found."
James's mouth dropped open and he stared at her incredulously.
"You're retiring?" he asked. "But . . ."
"I assure you that I am quite old enough to be considering it. Unlike Albus, I have no wish to be thought immortal and while I love Hogwarts, enough is enough and my time is over."
"But who will be head of Gryffindor?"
"Whoever you choose, Harry, whoever you choose."
"Me?"
"He is being thick today, isn't he?" she observed to Severus, then turned back to the conversation. "You hold the wards, therefore you are headmaster. It is as simple as that. The only other one who could possibly take the post is Severus here, and I'm fairly sure that he loves his Slytherins far too much for that, don't you?"
"I have never wished to be Headmaster," Severus admitted. "I'm not diplomatic, I have a terrible reputation and to be quite frank I couldn't cope with the paperwork. Unless you can come up with someone more suitable, you're stuck with it."
There was silence for a moment.
"This is what Albus wanted, wasn't it?" James asked. The two older teachers glanced at each other.
"He had always hoped to leave the school in your hands," Minerva said at last. "This was just a little sooner than he'd anticipated."
"I suppose I'll accept then," he said reluctantly. "What about Filius and Pomona?"
"They won't leave their Houses and besides, Filius is too old to hold the wards - he's near two hundred now - and Pomona isn't magically strong enough despite being a master in her field."
"Don't the governors have a say in this?"
"Two words James," Severus said, smirking. "War hero. They won't go against you. You could decide to move Hogwarts to Alaska and they wouldn't object, not that I'm suggesting it. Scotland is quite cold enough for me."
"Fine, I'll be Headmaster. Minerva, you will stay until the end of term, won't you?"
"If you want me to, but no longer. I would rather pass on the responsibility of being Deputy Headmistress, though."
"Okay," James said slowly, thinking it over. "So that means I need a Defence teacher, at least a part time one, a deputy headmaster or headmistress, and a head of Gryffindor and Transfigurations teacher for next year. Defence, I can manage, I should think. What about deputy?"
"You should choose someone you trust implicitly," Minerva said, sounding amused. "Someone who is reliable and responsible and who you won't have serious disagreements with on a regular basis. They should be experienced and, since they would be responsible for a good deal of disciplinary action, they should be stern. Now, who does that sound like?"
"Sinistra," Severus said, straight-faced.
"Severus?" James asked, attempting to look pathetic. "I'd probably go soft on the Hufflepuffs if I had to cope with discipline."
"Merlin save us. If Filius and Pomona have no objections, I will take the post."
James and Minerva looked relieved. He really was the only plausible choice and with over a decade of experience as a teacher and house master, he had plenty of the skills necessary for dealing with the most troublesome of the Hogwarts students and indeed parents.
James smiled. That was it settled then: Minerva wished to retire and would at the end of the summer term, he had agreed to be Headmaster and Severus and been persuaded to be Deputy Headmaster in addition to his job as Slytherin head of house. Now he just needed to find a replacement for him as defence master and he'd be set until September. It wouldn't even need to be a full-time job, since he could teach some classes himself, at least in the short term.
That evening, Severus helped James carefully into the long black robe and purple lined black cape that was the traditional garb of Hogwarts' headmaster. James smiled: it was one that Albus had seldom, if ever, chosen to wear and indeed he could hardly imagine him swapping his garish red, yellow and purple concoctions for the sober academic robes.. Still, James wanted to make an impact, mostly so that he didn't have to answer so many questions, and the colours also worked for mourning clothes.
At precisely seven o'clock, he began to make his way slowly and painfully up to the Great Hall, Severus hovering next to him in case he should stumble. They had allowed half an hour, though the journey would normally have taken only ten minutes, as after so long in bed and with such tender skin, progress would be slow.
He paused outside, looking to his partner for reassurance. Severus smiled at him.
"Go on Harry," he said, using the seldom spoken name. "Only you could follow on from Albus."
James turned back to the doors and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and gathering his courage. He then stepped forwards into sight of the tables and slowly proceeded down the centre aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables.
The Hall fell silent as the students caught sight of him, murmured pointers spread the word around the room as heads turned, all staring at him in barely concealed awe. James smiled: and that was only knowing that he was Harry Potter and had just killed a man in this very Hall. Even many of the younger teachers would not know the significance of the robes, archaic as they were. The honour of telling them would be his alone and it was a responsibility that he both revered and dreaded.
When he reached the head table where, just a few months ago, he had first taken his place as a teacher, he moved to stand in front of Albus's chair. It was strange to think that he was the only other man to sit there in over half a century.
Seeing him there, his meaning clear, the Hall slowly burst into applause. The students were clapping enthusiastically, soon the teachers followed. After about a minute, the oldest Slytherins were standing, soon all the Slytherins and then the rest of the Hall. He allowed them to continue, a little moved by the standing ovation and not entirely sure that he deserved it. Still, if that was one way they would celebrate, let them have their fun.
At last, he looked to Severus, who had swapped places with Minerva to give him the seat at James's right hand. The Potions' master tapped gently on the side of his glass with a spoon and the sound rang out bell-like through the Hall, which fell immediately still.
"Thank you for that, everyone," James said, still stunned at the applause he had received. "The first thing I would like to say to you is that, as most of you will know by now, Albus Dumbledore was passed on. He was an old man and death came as no surprise to him. As per his requests, he will be buried in a private ceremony for his friends and family but there will be a memorial service this coming Sunday for those of you who wish to attend. He told me when I was eleven that 'death is the next great adventure' and, knowing him, he's probably loving it.
"With his death, a few changes in the school will be occurring. Professor McGonagall, who has served as Transfigurations Professor and Head of Gryffindor House for the past forty six years and Deputy Headmistress for the past twenty, has told me that she plans to retire at the end of the summer. As such, Professor Snape has, at her request, taken on the role of Deputy Headmaster and we are currently looking for a new Transfigurations professor with her help.
"According to tradition, I am your new Headmaster, and I have accepted this responsibility, though whether I will be able to live up to Professor Dumbledore, only time will tell. Like Professor Dumbledore, I can now be found at most times during the day in the headmasters' office and you are welcome to come and speak to me at any time: twist the gargoyle's ear and if I am there, I will let you through.
"Until a replacement Defence Master can be found, I will continue to teach you all and I assure you that anyone I select will have to meet very specific criteria. You need not have any fear that standards will slip.
"What else? Ah yes, Professor McGonagall has asked me to confirm the rumour that is currently circulating that I am Harry Potter. James Evans are my middle names and for now either Professor Potter or Professor Evans will be fine, whichever you find yourself more comfortable with. My house at Hogwarts, which has also been queried apparently, was Gryffindor…"
Loud cheers broke out from the Gryffindor table and the Slytherins looked very disappointed. James raised a hand to calm them down.
"However, I was one of those few children that the Sorting Hat has trouble with, and, to be quite frank, when I was eleven it could have been either Gryffindor or Slytherin. At University I was in Merlin House, which is their equivalent of Slytherin, although I was told I would do well in all four. This means that I will not favour any of the houses and will endeavour to be as fair as I can.
"That said, all that remains is to remind you that your exams will continue as normal and I wish you all the best. And now to our feast: tuck in."
He sat down, pausing a moment to consider the sensation of actually sitting in the hallowed chair, and waved his hand to signal to the house elves to send the food up to the hall. It appeared and chatter broke out again as they all dug into their meal. James smiled: maybe he could do this after all. He filled his glass and, catching Alistair's eye over at the Slytherin table, raised it to him. The boy flushed furiously. Hmm, maybe he wasn't quite so comfortable with being Harry Potter's adopted son that Minerva had given him the impression he was.
As they left the Great Hall, Severus cornered Alistair and ushered him quickly through into the antechamber off the Hall where James was waiting. This was likely to be an uncomfortable meeting, so they had decided to get it over with as quickly as possible.
"'lo Alistair," James said, smiling weakly at him. Truth be told he was rather nervous about the encounter himself.
"Hello sir."
"I thought you were calling me James, hmm?"
"Well, you said . . . I mean you're not . . ."
"You mean my real name is Harry, right? If you feel more comfortable with Harry, use it. To be honest, I don't mind."
"Oh. Okay."
"How are you getting on then?"
"I'm fine."
James sighed inwardly. The boy wasn't making it easy for him.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, to be honest I wasn't originally planning on telling anyone who I was. Maybe I should have, so you didn't find out like this, but all I can do now is apologise."
"That's okay," Alistair said, managing a smile himself. "It's just a bit odd, what with you being a hero and everything. Some people reckon you're training me to do something."
"I can assure that I'm not. My only motive was to ensure that you didn't grow up like I did. I'm actually hoping that I won't ever have to hear of any more dark lords in my lifetime but the chances of that are quite low. You're only twelve, you've plenty of time to make your own decision about what you want to do with your life. I doubt there's much you could want that would shock me."
"Even if I wanted to be . . . to be a Muggle . . . drain cleaner?"
"Well, I'd be a bit surprised about that one. You're intelligent enough to at least be the one who sits in the office and sends other people out to do that."
Alistair laughed.
"Are you coming down this Saturday like normal?" James asked after a moment.
"Why wouldn't I?"
James smiled at him. There was only really one other person that he had yet to speak to, and that was likely to be nasty. Draco Malfoy had never been a particularly forgiving person and while they had had a truce at school, being tricked by Harry Potter of all people was likely to be a sore point.
A/N: And that's the end of that, watch out for the next chapter coming soon and if there's anything that I've forgotten, don't forget to tell me.