The Long Road Home

Part Two

Chapter One

6th January 1994…

Harry had long since tried to forget it.

The hollowness of his Godfather's eyes as he stared through him, lifeless where he had fallen to the floor. He'd pushed away the whispering memories of his voice, a panic in it that was so foreign to him back then, as he told him to get out, to run, the desperation rising with each second that Harry defied him.

Standing there, foolishly, with his chin raised as he attempted to prove that, hey, he could be brave and strong and he wasn't going to just turn and run away in the face of danger.

All memories of it returned to him in a cloudy haze, as the piercing cold gripped him deep within his veins; vision blurring even as the voices surrounded him. Sirius telling him to run. A high, sinister voice mocking him; "oh so brave".

Before the truth, the unspoken truth he buried from his retellings, sounded and reminded him once again of the secret he kept.

"I have use of you yet, Black. Get out of my way."

Then, the words that still haunted his nightmares, even now, years later; "Avada Kedavra!"

And Harry was lost in the haze, falling and drowning in it, as he spiralled.

"Harry!"

He blinked.

He was on his back, looking upwards. His vision clear and time seeming to have passed.

Above him, his Uncle Remus knelt, looking down at him with a familiar expression of concern.

Harry closed his eyes, drawing in a breath. Right. They were at Hogwarts.

"Sorry."

Remus' hand went to his shoulder, pausing in a reassuring grip, before it helped him up into a sitting position; "There's no need to apologise, Harry. This is only the first lesson; to be able to fight them off so quick would be a feat, indeed."

Harry shot him a sheepish smile, glancing down; "They affect me worse than everyone else. People…expect me to be able to do better."

It was always the case. Ever since he'd gotten the scar, people had looked at and treated him differently; as if the mark made him special, stronger.

He wasn't.

All he'd done was stand there and watch his Uncle Sirius die.

It was all wrong.

"The dementors affect you more strongly than your classmates because you've faced far greater horrors than most of them can even imagine," Remus said, his hand still reassuringly gripping his shoulder when he leaned forward, speaking firmly; "Harry. You're not weak."

Harry kept his eyes on the floor.

"When the dementors get close to me…I hear Voldemort murdering Uncle Sirius."

Remus looked away, almost as if in a flinch, but recovered himself quickly, nodding slowly and speaking in that same understanding manner he always did, whenever Harry let the conversation drift towards Sirius Black and what had happened that night; the little he allowed himself to say.

"I suspected. It is a painful memory. One you shouldn't have had to live."

Harry considered it, once more, as he often did when he spoke with his surviving uncle. Remus always had that way about him, the ability to make one feel safe enough to want to just reveal everything, to tell and offload and ask for reassurances or comfort.

But Harry pushed it aside.

He couldn't.

Even if the dementors made him remember it so clearly, once more; what he had tried to bury down deep inside.

"I have use of you yet, Black. Get out of my way."

The meaning was clear.

Voldemort had not been after Sirius that night, hadn't even wanted his uncle dead. No. It had been Harry he had wanted.

Harry didn't understand it; he could barely make sense of what had happened, how the dark wizard's expression had changed, the glint in his eyes turning from mocking to menacing when Harry had lifted his chin and spoken his name clear as day, no idea that speaking it would somehow change everything.

He didn't understand how, back then, his own name could mean anything to anyone. But, apparently, it did. Enough that Sirius had died for it.

Harry never told them, told no one except Malachi the truth; his mum and his Uncle Remus had loved Sirius too and he couldn't bear it, having them know that it was all his fault.

Harry drew in a breath, meeting Remus' eyes and shooting him a smile; "Thanks, Uncle – uh…Professor."

Remus smiled.

"But do you mind if we stop? I…I'm still wiped. Hermione wanted to do a study session last night and, well, since I'm not exactly academic extraordinaire it lasted a while."

A chuckle and a nod; "Of course, Harry. You go on back. I could do with some rest myself."

They both got to their feet and Harry furtively cast a glance over Remus as they did; noted the way he winced as he straightened up, discomfort evident even as he tried to conceal it, and he made a mental note to bring it up with his mum the next time he saw her. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done so, but being in such close proximity the past few months only highlighted it more.

"See you tomorrow," Harry said, with a smile, before heading from the classroom.

He cast a glance over his shoulder, to check if he was being watched, but the corridor was clear and he ducked sideways, taking a different route to the Tower and heading in the direction of the library. The experience with the faux-dementor igniting the same urge within him to learn more about what had happened that night. About the man, the monster, who had come after them.

A familiar sight of black hair up ahead caught his eye.

"Malachi!"

"Slytherin!"

Malachi had sunk further into the seat, Sorting Hat on his head, as his eyes met Harry's across the Great Hall. Harry stared back at him, looking at him as if he'd just committed the most unforgivable betrayal imaginable, and Malachi had felt rotten as he stepped down to make his way to his new House table.

His eyes met Severus' as he walked past the long table and his Godfather, his new Head of House, smiled at him.

And then he didn't feel quite so bad.

Back then, Malachi didn't understand what it meant. Sure, he and Harry would be in different houses at Hogwarts, but what did that really matter if they were still in the same building. They'd still see one another.

Malachi got it now.

His first year was enough to open his eyes.

Still, he and Harry ignored it. At least, he tried to. Harry never seemed to be bothered by anything anyone said but, then, everyone in his house loved him. In all the houses, actually, except Malachi's.

The Slytherins were strange.

They thought it was, at best, an oddity that Malachi should want to spend any time at all with a Gryffindor – least of all Harry Potter – and sometimes they would call him a blood traitor and throw out insults at his father, or his Uncle. Blood traitors before him, they'd say.

But then, other times, it seemed like they wanted him on their side.

Maybe Draco had something to do with it. But it threw him all the same.

With the Slytherins in his House, it was as if everything that his housemates said or did was calculated, thought out, as if they were playing a game. And Malachi always felt like he was losing.

Until, one day, the word 'mudblood' accidentally slipped from his lips as an insult and, suddenly, it was as if they decided he was one of them after all.

Malachi never told Harry about that.

"Hey."

Harry gave him a wide grin when he caught up; "Alright? Where are you going?"

"Dungeons."

"Fancy a trip to the library?"

"It's almost curfew."

Harry drew back the lapel of his robe a bit, revealing the smallest glimpse of his invisibility cloak, before dropping it and turning eager eyes on him; "Come on, I've got something to show you."

"What?"

Malachi asked the question but both knew Harry didn't need to answer, his attention well and truly secured simply by the excited glint in the older boy's eye, and he stepped into place beside him as they made their way down the deserted corridor, Harry pulling out a piece of parchment as he did.

The words – "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good " – almost whispered, as they headed towards the library.

"Wow!"

"Nicely handled, Mrs Potter."

"And yet we have nothing."

Regulus grinned, tucking away a handful of parchments; "I wouldn't say nothing. We know there was definitely sightings in Godric's Hollow now."

A place Lily had never had any wish to return to, tonight being the first time she had since many years before.

"There's traces of it, could you feel it? The last Horcrux and then all this is over."

Lily gave him a slight smile, a conceding one, even if she was quite certain it wasn't true. The memory she'd procured from his old Potion's Professor some years before was only a glimpse, a clue, and there was no telling that the number of horcruxes created were limited to the six that Tom Riddle spoke of.

It seemed almost too easy, that five had already been discovered and handed over to Dumbledore, that the last one they hunted – the snake – was the final key. Almost too good to be true, that when Voldemort returned, he would do so as mortal, once more.

But years of hunting and researching pointed to it being truth. Dumbledore's guidance, his assurances that Voldemort's soul simply could not withstand any further splitting necessary to create further horcruxes, all indicated that the end was close. Find the snake and then they'd have a chance.

Harry would have a chance.

But Lily couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something. There was something else, something they didn't know.

And for all the reassurances her old Headmaster had given she and Regulus over the years, her doubts still remained.

Despite all they had been through or, perhaps, because of it; she still didn't trust Dumbledore.

"I'd better get back."

Regulus met her eyes.

"Unless there's more you wanted to do here?"

"No, we're done. I'll set up a few charms, some traces," he held up a hand, giving it a playful flick away; "Go on. I can handle it. Besides, I know there's someone you'd much rather be heading home to right now."

Lily's lips twitched; "Actually, I needed to head to St Mungo's for a bit. See how Mr Colhoun's responding."

"Oh well, then you'd better be heading off; you really ought to tell that boss of yours to ease up a bit."

She shot him a sly smirk; "Fat chance of that happening."

Regulus laughed as she headed off.

Her feet carried her forward, mind lost in thoughts of Voldemort and Horcruxes and the fate of her son, as it often did whenever she allowed her mind to wander too long or when she headed out on these missions, and she was mere feet from the cottage before she realised where her steps had carried her.

Lily hadn't come back here; even when they had set up to sell the place years before, Sirius had been the one to deal with packing up, dealing with the buyers, finalising the sale.

It stood there, just as before, completely unchanged and Lily caught sight of three children through the window, sitting in front of the fireplace as they played together. A woman walked by, inside the house, drawing their attention and then there was smiles and laughter.

It was nothing like her own memories of the place. The dynamic of her own family had been entirely different but the essence of it all had been the same. The love, the laughter.

Lily stepped away then, carrying on her path, but as she did a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She'd avoided the place, the memories, for so long.

But she realised, now, finally facing them; it really didn't hurt anymore to remember them.

"Nothing."

Harry tossed the book he was going through aside.

"Well we've read these books about a hundred times," Malachi pointed out; "There's nothing to find. You'd be better just asking someone."

"I can't."

"They won't care, Harry. If you think it's you he was after the whole time then it's better your mum knows, anyway. So they can protect you properly."

"More than they already do? It doesn't matter if they know he was after me before because they already know that's he's after me now. So whatever they do when I tell them won't be any different than what they already do; except, if they knew what really happened, then they'd know it was my fault Uncle Sirius is gone."

"I don't think that."

"You're different."

Malachi Black was Harry Potter's best friend. And he loved him.

But, sometimes, when he looked at the other boy who looked so much like their Uncle Sirius that it made his stomach turn, Harry would think that while their uncle may have died for Harry; he wouldn't have had to if it wasn't because of Malachi Black and his father.

And, at those times, Harry couldn't help hating him a bit.

That's how he knew that he couldn't tell his mum and Uncle Remus the truth.

Because Malachi was different. He'd been through just as much, even more, than what Harry had but he didn't get angry or blame anyone else for anything. He just accepted it, like it was normal.

Harry got angry all the time when he thought he was being wronged.

"Maybe we should just head back," Harry said, when the silence stretched and a tug of guilt pulled at his gut for where his thoughts had turned. He always felt guilty, when they did.

"Oh. Okay." Malachi shrugged, snapping shut the book he had been skimming through, and using his wand to return it and the books around them back to the shelf, before the two of them got to their feet and drew the invisibility cloak over their heads, making their way from the library.

It was well past curfew.

Harry pulled out the map as they walked along, heading in the direction of the dungeons first, so Malachi could get as close to them as he could without being spotted by the patrols.

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"Professor McGonagall. She's heading for the Gryffindor tower."

"So?"

"She might want to speak to us or something," Harry explained, quickly, beginning to shrug himself out from under the cloak. He didn't have time for more detentions this week, he already had a backlog of essays and Quiddich practice to account for, not to mention the new lessons with Remus.

"What are you doing?"

"You go, keep the cloak. I've got the map."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, alright."

Harry didn't wait for a response, though he heard a faintly whispered 'bye' as he cast a 'lumos' and made his way back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, quickly opening the map further to where he was and scanning the surrounding corridors for anyone who threatened to cross his path.

It was still a marvel to him, the map that the Weasley twins had handed over some weeks before, eyes quickly becoming caught up in following the various names that moved across the page.

Filch cut off one of his routes, so he diverted to take another.

Other students out after hours, some names he didn't even recognise, danced across the parchment. Two boys out and about down in the dungeons, close to where Malachi was approaching. A boy and a girl climbing the steps of the Astronomy Tower.

Remus Lupin out on the grounds.

That got Harry's attention, his eyes lingering and his footsteps slowing somewhat as he took in his uncle's steps. Watched as he headed further out, in direction of the Whomping Willow, drawing closer and closer until Harry couldn't help just stopping and watching, curiosity piqued as Remus drew nearer, too near to possibly be safe – Harry knew that from his own experiences with the tree.

Harry had the sudden urge to run out, to stop him, maybe Remus didn't know about the tree. After all, he'd only been there a few months.

But then, he'd actually gone to Hogwarts, so surely he'd know?

So caught up in his own thoughts, it was with a jolt that his eyes took in another name on the map, one dangerous close to himself at that moment, having managed to sneak up upon him with seconds.

Severus Snape.

Harry quickly unlit his wand, a hastily uttered "mischief managed" concealing the maps contents, just as the Potions Professor rounded the corner and the corridor was lit with light once again.

"Potter."

Fantastic.

He'd hurried to get away and back to the Gryffindor Tower in order to avoid a detention with McGonagall, only to put himself in the position of, instead, receiving a detention with Snape.

Give him scrubbing the Transfiguration Classroom from top to bottom with a bloody toothbrush over yet another detention writing out line after line from Snape's boring books about occlumency and defensive theory and potion uses any day.

Before coming to Hogwarts, Harry didn't really remember Severus Snape much. He'd only seen him a few times before, back when he used to work with his mum, but Malachi saw him all the time and he always said how great he was.

So, when Harry had attended his first potions class, he wasn't in the least bit prepared when he came under Professor Snape's scrutiny.

"Mr Potter. Our new celebrity."

Harry could only stare, mumbling and shaking his head under the Potion Master's questions, as he asked him things Harry had no clue as the answer to. Wasn't that why he was here – to learn?

"Tut-tut. Clearly fame isn't everything."

Harry had hated Snape instantly.

Malachi had told him to lighten up, Snape was obviously just mucking about – as if Snape would ever 'muck about' with anyone – and told him he'd probably just caught him on a bad day or something.

If that were the case, Harry was pretty certain that the only condition necessary for Snape to be having 'a bad day' was for Harry to occupy it. Even when the professor didn't speak with him, which he very rarely did, Harry often caught him staring.

Harry said nothing, now, only eyeing the potions professor in turn.

"Should we even bother with excuses this evening, Mr Potter? Or shall we just say seven o' clock tomorrow evening? I believe you know the whereabouts."

Harry almost frowned when Snape simply picked up his steps once more and strode on by, part of him ready to call him back and protest the punishment and the other rendered speechless by the quick dismissal.

It was almost as if Snape had someplace else he'd rather be.

Alone once more, Harry pulled out the map again, quickly activating it and his eyes going to the parchment; first seeking out 'Remus Lupin' and seeing nothing, his uncle seeming to have disappeared from Hogwarts entirely in those few minutes that he had looked away.

Harry's eyes went to another name, then, to the other man who'd behaved so peculiarly just moments before.

Severus Snape, who was now out on the grounds, the name moving with speed away from the castle, further and further away until the name eventually slipped from the map, leaving the grounds also.

Harry frowned, eyes still on the map in bafflement, his mind reeling over where the two Professors had gone.

Severus hated Hogwarts.

In fact, he hated teaching full-stop.

Every year, every class, every child was the same mind-numbing routine, day in, day out and Severus almost always knew what he was going to encounter. Even if a potion was to go well, the results were nothing spectacular because it was something he had seen a thousand times before, in the very same classroom, the very same assignment. Just a different child.

True enough, occasionally, rarely, he would come across a child who was evidently gifted, had the potential to do more, to be more. But even in those circumstances his guidance was restricted, dictated by curriculum and upcoming assessments. Not to mention, the other, less than impressive students in their year.

Severus longed for his days back at the Foundation.

Longed for the days of Orion and Dorado, when every day began with the potential for new discovery, an experiment, a challenge. Not to mention, Regulus was there and he found the company of the other professors at Hogwarts severely lacking; most taking him too seriously and the others not seriously enough.

And, of course, there was Lily, also. She was at the Foundation now, having returned to work there just over a year ago; loving the purpose, the opportunities, the innovations the place offered. Turning to him, wide eyed, asking him what he thought of this and that, what he would do, what was his opinion, what did he think they ought to try next. Severus took the opportunity to provide his input eagerly, keen to be involved in something, anything that reminded him that, yes, his brain was still there and it was still working, capable; just waiting until this fight was done so he could finally get back to using it.

For now, his brain was entirely tied up in the mind-numbing role of Professor of Hogwarts. And, since three years ago, protector of one Harry Potter, no longer able to split his time at the place half-way, due to the full-time nature of that job.

Harry Potter drove him crazy.

And he was quite certain the boy loathed him, right down to his very guts. But that was good, that was the plan; everyone had to believe as such. Especially his classmates, especially the Slytherins. And the frequent detentions assigned, now, would be the perfect cover, later, when it was time for Severus to finally begin preparing him for that which lay ahead.

The Dark Lord.

If the boy thought Severus was bad, wait until that particular demon came along. Severus would see to it he was ready, that he would succeed. For Lily, if not for the rest of the world.

Severus noticed it then, the flower in the window; colour changing from neutral lilac to deep yellow. He smiled and, with a cautious glance around the area, emerged from where he had settled; leaving the shadows and making his way across the path, to the door, crossing the threshold.

Home.

He shrugged out of his cloak, hanging it routinely on the rack as he passed through, heading straight to the kitchen, the sink, and leaned down to splash some water on his face.

His eyes glanced around the room for a moment when he drew back, taking in the pictures that scattered the walls. Moving images, too, that smiled and waved from their frames; there was the little Potter. Harry, his mind reminded him, for he was just Harry in this house.

At Hogwarts, it was easy to slip into it. Potter. Particularly when he strode down the halls with Malachi Black at his side, the latter resembling his uncle so acutely that, if Severus squinted, allowed his eyesight to blur a little, it was almost as if he were a child again; a student at Hogwarts. And there was James Potter and Sirius Black, heading down the hallway towards him.

Potter and Black; round two.

And yet, these boys were not the same men whose names they bore, House scarves revealing an entirely different story there. One red and golden; the other green and silver. Crossing House boundaries in the same way he and Lily had once done, more than two decades before. And their relationship, Severus knew, was just as controversial now as it had been back then. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor.

Not expected. Not accepted. Not allowed.

Severus found himself shameless rooting for them, silently, in the secret crevices of his mind, hoping they could do it. Make it. Like he and Lily couldn't. Hadn't. Back then, at least.

Now, of course, was a different story for them, also. But, hell, had it taken a long time for them to repair the damage their years at Hogwarts had wrought.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew him from his thoughts. Recognised the steps, the patter, the familiar gait and he smiled, unable to help himself. Never could. Not when it came to her.

She who, with a simple smile, a glance in his direction, eyes bright and trusting and entirely devoted made everything seem worthwhile; seeing nothing of who he once was. Seeing only the man he was now. And his heart melted every time.

The door to the kitchen pushed open and there she was.

Fiery red hair.

Green eyes that sparkled, hopeful and brightening when they quickly sought and landed upon him.

A smile on her lips and a giggle in her voice when she spoke;

"Daddy!"