AN: Sorry for disappearing for almost two months. I had a sudden bout of real life productivity and felt like I should make use of it, since it doesn't happen often and doesn't last long. Unfortunately, it's not really compatible with writing fanfic.

I'd like to concentrate more on my other long story now, since that's nearing its end, but I will do my best to update Family Ties at least once a month, to avoid these large gaps, and make it up to you when The Nolde is finished.

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Alduin had truly intended to find a moment to go and talk to Abdullah in the last couple of weeks, but he simply didn't have the strength. During the day, there was too much to do, and he bitterly envied all those whose families were still alive now, realizing for the first time how helpful it was when you have a house full of relatives available to care for you child for effectively any lengths of time. Thinking back to his childhood, he realized how often his parents had been gone, leaving him with his uncle or grandparents or great-grandparents, and that this was something that wouldn't be available to him and Alexandra. The thought was a little frightening.

And during the nights, when Wynn was put to sleep and Alduin's work and social obligations for the day were done, unwanted thoughts started to pry on his mind and he knew only one way to escape them, the way that led to forgetting everything.

He was relapsing, and he knew he was relapsing, but he couldn't muster enough energy to care. His ward was partly possessed by Riddle, and it seemed he was doomed to die, one way or another. What did it matter whether he was an alcoholic or not? What did anything matter? During the day, it was Wynn what kept him going, but during the night, it was hard to remember anything but the sinister presence in Harry's scar and the various scenarios tied to it. Would Alduin have to kill his ward himself one day, he wondered, to save his family? Would he have to ask he boy to kill himself? Would Dumbledore find out, and kill him?

And so he drank, because when drunk enough, he didn't remember any of this. That seemed to him to be worth a lot.

However, they were dining with the Shafiqs tonight, and Alduin was cringing in advance, expecting some harsh words from his friend. But in fact, Abdullah didn't talk to him much, in the drawing room or during dinner. When they were gathered in the receiving room to leave, however, Alduin was shocked to see Alexandra suddenly wave at him and disappear in the flames with a "don't come back before midnight".

"So," Abdullah said, and Alduin realized they were alone in the room now, "a glass of whiskey is in order, I think."

Whisky has been in order for Alduin every night for a few weeks now, though considerably more than a glass, so he was only happy to agree. They returned to the drawing room, and after Abdullah poured, he said: "So, spill. What's the devastating news?"

"How much did your father tell you?" Alduin asked, drinking deeply.

"Nothing, really. Only that it was serious and potentially concerned the future of us all."

"Yeah, you could say that." Alduin shook his head. "First, in winter, I go to the Depertment of Mysteries to find out what's up with this supposed prophecy about Harry, only to find out he is destined to either kill Riddle or be killed by him. Then I ask the transcendentals over to discuss some anomalies Harry has reported about his scar, and the most likely answer they come up with is that Harry has a freaking Horcrux inside of him."

Abdullah frowned as he tapped his glass to neutralize the alcohol inside. "A what?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Not a transcendental, I forgot. But you know the story about the villain hiding his soul somewhere…?"

"Yeah, in a phylactery, go on."

"...you do realize that's the Muggle term for it?"

"Well, I never knew the wizarding one, so-"

"Yeah. That's it."

"That's what?"

"That's the wizarding term. Horcrux. It's the wizarding name of a phylactery."

Abdullah stared at him. "Did you just- what?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, did you just say your ward had a bit of someone else's soul in him?"

"I didn't say it. Mrs. Gerard Ollivander did."

Abdullah closed his eyes, slowly exhaled, and took a long sip of his bastardized whisky. "Dare I ask whose soul?" He said then, his eyes still closed.

"I think you can figure that one out for yourself."

His friend opened his eyes to look at him. "You've got to be bloody joking."

"Afraid not."

"How can you get it out?"

Alduin gave him a wordless look, and extended his empty glass for a refill.

Abdullah frowned at him.

"Look," Alduin said, "I know your stupid 'no more than one glass' rule, but we're talking about my ward and cousin, and the boy I swore to protect when I took him in, possibly having to die to take Riddle down. I think I'm entitled to at least two."

Abdullah sighed, but he obliged him, even though his own glass went without being refilled.

"So...what's the plan now?"

"Praying it isn't true? There's one other possible solution, and though it's much less likely, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for that, and do nothing unless Riddle comes back and it becomes an immediate concern. Then I'll perform a whole lot of experiments on Harry to make sure it really is like that. And if it is..."

There was a very long silence.

"I guess there is a silver lining," Alduin said then, "even though it makes me feel like an utter bastard to think about it this way. There's a prophecy, and it says that Harry has the power to defeat him. So they might be both going down when it finally happens. Only...the power by which he can do it is love. I talked about it to Dumbledore, and he thinks I need to encourage Harry to be as open and affectionate as possible, and to be around open and affectionate people...but at the same time, not to love his life too much, because then he could become reluctant to play the part he needs to. And, mind you, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore doesn't actually know about the Horcrux business, so that would only support his ideas. So Harry's coming home from Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, and I'm supposed to treat him like a loving relative while knowing this. Easter has been hellish enough, but I only knew about the prophecy then. I can't imagine how this is going to work."

Abdullah wordlessly poured him a third glass.

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Unbelievable as it was, the exams were finally over, and Harry and his friends could go celebrate outside. Even the weather cooperated, and after being terrible most of the exam week, it improved now, and was nice enough that they could hang out in the grounds,. Of course, most of Harry's time was taken by intense last-minute Quidditch training, but even that was relaxing now that he no longer had to study. His Gryffindor friends sat in the stands and cheered them on, and Neville and Ron then walked with him to visit Hagrid.

Passing the Hufflepuffs having a picnic in the grounds, they found him sitting in front of his hut, carving something. "So the exams are over, eh?" He asked them when he saw them. "How do you think you did?"

"Terribly," Neville muttered, with Ron nodding alongside him.

Harry rolled her eyes. "I think we did okay. I know I probably did, and I studied with Neville and knew what he knew, so-"

"You don't know how nervous I get," Neville muttered. "I just know I mucked up Potions."

Harry's second eyeroll was even more pronounced. "Yeah, anyone would get nervous with Snape breathing down their neck the way he did. I wonder if he wants us to fail. I mean, we don't even get House points for this, so why'd he..."

"I'm sure he just want to prepare you as well as he can," Hagrid said firmly.

It was Ron who rolled his eyes this time. "Yeah, right," he said. "The way he was tyrannizing Neville until Harry's family ghost told him to stop was for his own good too, right?"

Hagrid looked interested, and so Harry retold the story. To his disappointment, though instead of admitting that Snape really treated Neville miserably during the first term, the groundkeeper concentrated on the person of Miss Brigit.

"What is it like, having your own family ghost?" He questioned.

Harry shrugged. "She keeps to herself," he said, "and doesn't like people to bother her. She mostly tutors me in Potions, since they aren't really Alduin's or Alexandra's forte."

"I'm surprised there's a subject your cousin isn't good at," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, I was, too, but clearly, Potions, Herbs and Magical Creatures are mostly beyond the grasp of both."

Hagrid was astonished. "Creatures? Imagine that! They're the most interesting thing!"

"Yeah, we know, Hagrid," Ron said. "Just please don't get another dragon."

"Or a Cerberus either," Harry added.

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On the day of the match itself, Oliver Wood was almost frantic. "I know they complained about a short game last time," he muttered to Harry, "but I'd really appreciate one this time. I have a Potions OWL on Monday and I really need to review."

Harry nodded. The person who scheduled the match really should be taken to task, whoever it was. This was terrible for Oliver.

They marched on the pitch and Harry nodded to Roger, the only player he knew in the Ravenclaw ranks. He wondered if that would change in future – most Ravenclaw children he knew were younger than he was.

Once the game started, he flew above the pitch, looking for the Snitch and hoping he wouldn't see it all that soon and so would be spared the dilemma. But of course, he wanted the opposing team's Seeker to find it even less. He tried not to be distracted, but he couldn't help but keep a track of how many goals Gryffindor scored, and it was as he was cheering for the fourth one, scored by Angelina, that he saw the Snitch out of the corner of his eyes, flying away.

He almost fell off his broom.

He immediately veered it around and started the pursuit, high up above the goals posts. A short while later, he was noticed both by the commentator and by the Ravenclaw Seeker, who was at his heels much quicker than Harry would have liked. Apparently, he had a good broom, too, and Harry had to put all of his skill in quick flying into keeping his lead, bending so low he was effectively lying on his broom.

But still, his head start paid off, and in a desperate grab, Harry leaned forward and grasped the little golden ball in his hand.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The match was over. They have won the Cup.

Harry landed amidst loud cheers, and the rest of the team landed next to him, embracing him and shouting in joy, Wood most touched of all. "I said it," he was repeating over and over again, "I said it, didn't I? That Potter was as good as Weasley, that we would get to the Cup with him."

And, indeed, they walked up to Dumbledore in the stands, and Oliver took the Quidditch Cup from him and held it above his head, and the crowd's cheers reached almost deafening proportions. Harry didn't remember ever feeling so happy in his life.

When finally got down to the pitch and to his own friends, it was once again Ron who was the most enthusiastic, even though Seamus, Dean and Sophie weren't too far behind. It took Harry a while to get through their hugs to Neville and Lavender's more muted congratulations. Parvati only nodded at him. "Did you even go to see the match?" Ron asked her, irritated, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I did," Parvati replied evenly, "but mostly to keep Lavender company before it started. I really don't care about Quidditch."

Ron seemed almost personally offended, and turned to Harry, pretending Parvati didn't exist, to ask: "So, did you let the Snitch go the first couple of times to prolong the match to twenty minutes?"

Harry laughed. "No. I told you it was mostly luck last time! It was the first time I saw it, I swear. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd seen it in the first few minutes, to be honest."

"Well, you could have easily let it go," Ron replied. "I mean, unless Ravenclaw scored twenty-two goals and caught the Snitch, they couldn't have overcome us in the Cup score, and that was pretty bloody unlikely."

Harry nodded. "You're right as far as we're only talking about the cup, but well, we wanted to win the match as well, didn't we? I can't just let the Snitch go when I see it!"

Ron grinned: "Yeah, sure, I get that," he said. "It's just that...well, you said yourself that it was mostly luck that you got to the Snitch so soon in the match against Hufflepuff. You have to count on the chance that someone else gets lucky next time. You have to think abut the score as well."

"Ron, are you chewing me out for catching the Snitch so quickly in that Hufflepuff match?"

Ron looked guilty.

"You're not the first person to do it," Harry said, "but I'm just surprised. You were so enthusiastic then!"

"Well I'm not really thinking about that," Ron said hesitatingly, "it's more...I mean, against Hufflepuff it was a good strategy, because like you said, they have a pretty good Seeker and there was a real risk he could have gotten to the Snitch before you, but later I realized you weren't thinking about it like that...and against the other two Houses, who have crap Seekers, it really would have been better to wait for a while longer, so..."

Harry looked at him for a moment. "Next year," he said then, "I'm recommending you to Wood to help him with planning strategy. What you say seems to make much more sense than his long lectures that always put us to sleep."

Once again, Ron blushed.