Chapter 4: Going North for the Summer

"Abra Kadabra!" the child crowed waving a stick about as he ran in the scrubby little patch of lawn.

The colour drained from Severus' face. "Robin," he growled.

The little boy stopped, looking back over his shoulder at Severus, sitting on the steps to the tiny patio in the late afternoon light.

"Come here," Severus said sternly, pointing to the ground before him. Slowly, dragging his little feet, Robin came. Severus took the stick from him, letting it fall to the ground. "I never, ever want to hear those words from you again," he hissed. "Do you understand me?"

Robin nodded, his big eyes threatening tears. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he whispered.

"Severus, you're scaring him," Annie said, appearing from the back door. "What's the problem if he says some nonsense?"

Severus looked at the contrite little boy before him. Was he old enough to know? He'd be starting school in just a fortnight, proper school, not the little playgroup Annie had taken him to two mornings a week. The miniature school uniform was purchased and hanging neatly in the wardrobe. But yet, he still looked like a infant to Severus: a solemn little toddler, all baby hair and round, soft limbs. If it weren't for Robin's unusually dark eyes, Severus would have doubted that such a pretty child could ever have come from him. That this little boy would one day be a seventh year, taking his NEWTs. But he would have to know sometime. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Severus asked, "can you keep a secret, Robin?"

Looking a little less bereft, Robin nodded. Severus glanced about. There was only the wooden fences to separate Annie's terraced house from her neighbours. "We should go inside," Severus said. "It is a very big secret." He stood, and held out his big hand for Robin's small one. The little boy looked up at him, all traces of tears forgotten.

"Are you a spy?" Robin whispered, eyes wide.

Severus' stomach dropped an inch. "No," he said. It was a bald-faced lie. He still reported back on the Dark Lord's actions to Dumbledore, and fed the Dark Lord information as instructed. "No, Robin, it's something bigger than that." He led his child through the kitchen and to the living room, seating himself on the sofa. Robin scrambled up and squirmed under Severus' arm so he was pressed close to his father's side. He looked up, expectantly.

Severus frowned, wondering how best to begin. He'd thought that perhaps he'd tell Robin when the boy had his first burst of uncontrolled magic: it would feel real and personal then. Perhaps he should have let the child carry on, but what if his first magic should come as he lisped those words a little too close to the killing curse? Magical children were taught never, never to say them. The killing curse was too feared, though he didn't think he'd actually ever heard of a child murdering with them. They did, after all, lack the intent.

It would be nice, he mused, to not have to be careful what was said around Robin anymore, to take him to Hogwarts. Minerva had been bothering him of late to bring the child, and Hogwarts during the summer, when it was empty of students, would be a spectacular playground for the little boy.

Robin still waited, but he was getting fidgety, impatient. Steeling his nerves, Severus began. "There are some words that, when said by special people, can do special things."

Robin looked at him blankly.

Severus tried again. "What do you know about dragons, Robin?" he asked, changing tack completely. Surely, the child had to have a view on dragons.

Robin perked up, the sudden change in topic apparently not bothering him. "Mummy read me a story about a saint who killed a dragon!" he said. "He was called George!" He seemed to think for a moment. "The saint was called George. I don't know if the dragon had a name. Do dragons have names?"

Severus barely managed to not roll his eyes. Of course Annie had told him the story of St. George and the Dragon. Merlin forbid that she read him stories that weren't rooted in Christianity. "Yes, dragons have names," he told Robin. "I do not know the name of that particular dragon, however. Would you like to meet a dragon?"

"Mummy said that dragons don't exist anymore," Robin said. "She said that God made them all go away."

He really needed to stop Annie indoctrinating the child so. He hadn't really realised just how bad it was. He would not let his son become a blind follower, with no enquiring mind. Severus knew all about the pitfalls of blind following. If Robin wished to subscribe to the Christian religion, that was fine, but he needed to make the choice logically. "Well, she's wrong," Severus said. "I have seen a dragon, but only a few people are allowed to see them. I can see them, and so can you, if I take you."

"Will you take me?" Robin demanded, excited.

"I will," Severus said. The dragon reserve in Wales was small, but enough to impress a small child, and he knew Hagrid would be able to ensure entry for them. Ah, Hagrid. "There are other animals that most people can't see either," he said. "There are unicorns too, and little creatures that look like balls of fluff with little faces. They look a bit like tiny cats without tails. You could meet them too."

"Now?" Robin asked, hopeful.

"Not just now," Severus said. "After all, it is almost teatime, and then bathtime. Perhaps you and I will go out for the day tomorrow and meet them."

"Mummy too?" Robin asked.

Severus looked up to where Annie was leaning against the doorframe. Did she look… angry? Severus wondered if she'd taken the pills the muggle doctors had prescribed for her. They were supposed to stabilise her moods, make her less volatile, but she was rarely angry in any case. Sad, overwhelmed, confused… yes, she was all of those things, but not angry. "No, Robin," Severus said, keeping his eyes on Annie's face. "Do you remember that I said only certain people are allowed to see dragons?"

Robin nodded.

"Your mother isn't one of those people," Severus explained. "You see, there's not just dragons and unicorns and puffskeins. There's magic too, but not everyone can use it. I can, but your mother can't."

"Magic?" Robin asked, puzzled. "Like… when the rabbit came out of the hat on television?"

Muggle magicians. Severus remembered those from his childhood. Rabbits from hats, women being cut in half… all tricks, sleight of hand. "Not like that," he told his son. "Better." He pulled his wand from the narrow pocket sewn into his sleeve. He held it out for Robin to see, resisting the urge to pull it away when a little hand reached out to stroke the wood, worn to a patina by a decade and a half of use. "It's like the stick you were waving earlier, but it has magic inside, and some people can use the magic, and some can't."

He flicked the wand, whispered an incantation, and watched Robin's eyes go as round as saucers as deep purple and blue bubbles streamed from the end of the wand. The child reached out, hesitant at first to touch them, but then delighted as they popped under his fingers, just like soap bubbles. He giggled. "More!" Robin cried. "I want to make them!" He wrapped his hand around the wand. "Let me!"

"No, Robin," Severus said seriously, pulling it out of his son's grasp. "It is not a toy. I can make bubbles, but I can do terrible things as well. There is great power here. I can make people bleed, break their bones, even kill them, but I can make their injuries better too."

"Like a doctor?"

"Like a doctor," Severus confirmed. "Robin, those words you said earlier… they are words that can be very, very dangerous. You must promise me that you will never, ever say them again."

The little boy frowned. "But… Mummy says that to make doors open…"

"To make doors open?" Severus asked, puzzled.

"You know the ones," Annie said. "The glass ones, that slide, like they have at supermarkets. We say abra…" She trailed off as Severus glared at her, then tried again. "We say the magic words, because the doors open like magic."

"Well, don't say them any more," Severus said firmly. "They are very close to what we call the killing curse. It is, of course,completely illegal. No magical child would ever use those words." Annie looked at him, a mixture of anger and terror in her eyes. She turned and left, her footsteps clipping up the stairs.

Robin was a placid child, but he was still four years old. He tugged at Severus' arm. "More bubbles!" he demanded.

"Patience, Robin," Severus chided. "This is very important." He stowed his wand back into his sleeve, the rigidity comforting against his forearm. It sometimes disturbed him now, that his wand was separated from his dark mark by only the thin fabric of his shirt and a layer of the woollen cloth of his robes, transfigured into a jacket for his forays into Annie's world. Robin looked upset again, so Severus pulled the little body into his lap, relishing the weight, the warmth of his son. "Look at me."

Robin's eyes met his, hesitantly. "I do not wish to tell you off, Robin," Severus said, keeping his voice gentle. "But this is the most important thing I have ever asked of you. You must not tell anybody about this unless I tell you that you may. Do you understand?"

He knew that this was a big burden for a child to bear. "Yes, Daddy," Robin said. "More bubbles?"

"No, Robin," Severus said. "I am very, very serious. This is the biggest secret there is. The people who can't do magic… they can't ever, ever know about it. About the bubbles, about dragons, or unicorns…"

"Why?"

Severus thought for a minute. It always had to be why, didn't' it? There always had to be a reason. How could he begin to explain the statute of secrecy? "Because magic is very very powerful, and people who don't have magic get jealous, and they try to steal it."

"Stealing is bad," Robin said authoritatively.

Severus could have sighed in relief, but he resisted. At last, the black and white morality of Annie's religion helped him. It might be years before Robin questioned this one. "Yes," Severus said. "That's right. And we don't want bad things to happen, so we don't tell people without magic about it."

"Why can't Mummy use the magic?"

"She just can't, Robin. Her parents couldn't use it, so she can't use it."

"Can I use the magic?"

"When you are older," Severus explained. "It is a grown up person thing." He decided to try for a little more, Robin seemed to be following him so far. "You know that I am a teacher, don't you?" he asked. Robin nodded solemnly. "Well, I teach magic," he said. "At a big castle. One day, you'll go there to learn how to do magic too."

"Real magic?" Robin asked, with wide eyes and a grin.

"Real magic," Severus confirmed with a little smile. "You'll have your very own wand, and you'll live in the castle and go to lessons that will tell you how to do tickling charms and how to read in special magic languages and how to turn books into cats and back again."

"You can turn a book into a cat?" Robin interrupted excitedly.

Severus said nothing, merely drew his wand again and looked about. One of Robin's storybooks lay on a side table, but next to it was Annie's Bible. He knew that it was perhaps cruel, but he could not resist. A moment's concentration, and the Bible became a small black kitten. It mewed once, then turned back into the book. Robin's eyes immediately brimmed over. "Where'd kitty go?" he asked morosely. "I want kitty!" He flung himself from Severus' lap to cling at the book.

"Robin, the cat is gone," Severus said. "It… it never really existed. There is no cat."

Robin paid him no heed, instead falling to the carpet and clutching the Bible to him, his voice rising to a high wail. "Kitty!" he shouted.

"Robin!" Severus chastised sharply. "Robin, cease that racket!"

Annie's footsteps hurried down the stairs again and she enfolded her small son in her arms. "What did you do to him?" she demanded shrilly. "Robin, darling, what's the matter?" She tugged the book that Robin clung to his chest, moving it enough for her to realise that it was her Bible. "I knew all this magic was a bad idea! You tell him it's not real right this moment, Severus Snape. You put this right, and we'll never mention it again!"

"You're being irrational, Annie," Severus snapped back over Robin's sobs. "I can't make it go away, it's real, and soon enough, he's going to start showing magic. It happens to all magical children. It's not something that you can ignore, or it will grow and it will burst out in the worst possible ways- fire, flood, grievous injury… the list goes on."

"God will provide," Annie insisted. "Look, he's holding a Bible. God is telling us that this, this… magic, it's wrong!"

"He's holding the damned book because I turned it into a cat!" Severus snapped at her. "Look!" He transfigured the book back into the black kitten. Robin immediately stopped sobbing, squashing the cat tight to his chest in delight instead. Severus decided that it was a very good thing that the cat wasn't real- it lay passively, whereas a genuine animal would have had Robin's arms and face in ribbons.

Annie had recoiled in shock. "It's… it's a…"

"A cat. Yes"

"But…"

"Magic," Severus explained. He stood only the kneel in front of Robin. "Robin… it's not a real cat. Look." He took the cat from his son, setting it on the ground. It sat and stared blankly. "A real kitten would be running around, sniffing things… it's just a pretend kitten, like your cuddly toys."

"It went mew…" Robin sadly insisted.

"Because I made it so it would meow," Severus explained. "I could have made it into anything." A flick of his wand, and the cat turned into a teacup, then a log, then, finally, with a shudder, back to Annie's Bible. She picked it up, flicking through. "It's all the same," she said, confused, flicking between some pages annotated in pencil.

"Of course it is," Severus said absently, pulling a still sniffling Robin into his lap and tucking his against his chest. "It's the same book." He could see now that the cat had been a mistake: he'd been too keen to show off his skills, and to a child who would not recognise a difficult transfiguration if he saw one. He should have stuck with the teacup.

"Want kitty," Robin grumbled.

"We'll go and meet some puffskeins tomorrow," Severus promised.

"Puff skin?" Robin parroted lispily.

"You'll see, but I think you'll like them," Severus said, brushing a strand of dark hair off Robin's tear-stained cheek. "But they are very secret. You can't tell people about them, or about the kitty book."

"No one would believe him," Annie said. "Severus…"

"Later," Severus said. "When he's in bed." He could see from the look on Annie's face that this would not be an easy conversation. She was not in an amenable mood. She still had so little interest in the world, no desire to do anything, but when it came to Robin, she was determined. Most of the time. Some days, it was like she forgot he even existed, but those times were few and far between. "I think it's time for tea, Robin. How does fish fingers sound? And I brought some cake for pudding."

It was easy to cheer a four year old child up. Fish fingers didn't take long to cook, baked beans even less, and before long a delighted Robin had to have chocolate smears wiped off his face. It was rare that Severus was there for the whole afternoon and evening. During term time, he came for bedtime when he wasn't called away by the Dark Lord, and during the holidays, a hour or two in the afternoons if he could. He knew that he needed to speak to Annie, though: she was quiet, withdrawn, so quiet, in fact, that she did not speak at all, would not read Robin a story. Severus didn't bother to argue, instead, he tucked Robin in, drew the curtains in his little bedroom, and leaned against the headboard, laying his long legs up beside his son's little blanketed form. He hoped he remembered the story he wanted to tell rightly. It wasn't one he had known as a child; he hadn't been read to as a child. It had been later, in the Hogwarts library, that he came across it, but it was a common enough wizarding fairy tale. He should buy Robin a copy, he decided. "I'm going to tell you a new story," he said. "It's the story of Babbity Rabbity." Robin cuddled into him, a teddy bear clutched tight to his chest.

Half an hour later, Severus carefully climbed from Robin's bed, not wanting to disturb the slumbering boy. He went downstairs with heavy steps, avoiding the creak in the fourth step down. Annie was curled up in the chair, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. "I will come to collect him at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning," Severus said.

"No," she said. "In fact, I think it might be best if you stayed away for a while, got all of this nonsense out of his head. Maybe stayed away entirely."

He tipped his head to the side. "Are you trying to prevent me seeing my son, Annie?" he asked dangerously.

"This magic… I don't want him having anything to do with it."

"That is not your choice to make. I told you, Annie, I told you when you were pregnant with him that he would be magical. It's not a choice Annie, it's part of who he is, it's in his blood. It can't just go away."

"God will answer my prayers," she replied piously. "Robin will forget all of this. He will miss you for a while, but he will forget."

"You can't keep him from me, Annie. You had that choice, and you turned it down. You are not capable of raising him alone." Thank goodness she hadn't decided never to see him again. Robin would probably be in the care of the muggle authorities, or dead.

"I am!"

Severus wanted to shout. He drew his wand, cast a silencing sphere in case he did. "You do not always remember to feed him. He can be left alone for hours at a time. Sometimes I leave him with you against my better judgement. You are not a fit mother to parent alone, Annie."

"I am!" she repeated indignantly.

"If you attempt to keep me away from him, I will be forced to remove him from your care," Severus said dangerously softly.

She tipped her chin up. "I'll find him," she said. "I'm his mother, the courts would award me custody."

Severus frowned. Silently, he walked over to the little dining table. He picked up a chair, turned it to face Annie, and sat facing her, so close that their knees would touch if she didn't have her legs curled under her. He regarded her for a moment. She didn't even flinch. That was unusual for Annie. She was normally almost afraid of Severus, particularly if he was less than happy. He suspected that she was the same with any man. "You have known mental issues, Annie," he reminded her. "You are on a veritable pharmacy of strange muggle drugs. I don't even think you are taking them as you should, and you think you are fit to be in sole charge of a child? Make no mistake, Annie, I will not hesitate to take him from you if I need to, and you will never find us. We are wizards, we can hide in plain sight."

"That's not fair!" Annie gasped.

"No," Severus replied, "it's not. Don't make me do it."

"He's my son," Annie whimpered, finally seeming to return to herself, her eyes brimming up with tears.

"Mine too," Severus said. "I don't want to take him from you, Annie, but I will if I have to. He has a right to know about the magical world, more than that, he has a need to know. He can't turn up to school at eleven with no knowledge of the place." Eleven was a long time away: before then, Severus would need to work out how to tell him that he'd need to hide his parentage. A problem for another day. "I will be here at 9 o'clock tomorrow morning, when I will take Robin out for the day. I will have him back by seven o'clock in time for his bath and bed. I do not ask for much, Annie, but on this, I insist."

"Don't take him from me," Annie whispered. "He's all I have…"

"I don't want to, Annie. But don't stop me seeing him. Don't reject his magic, don't tell him it's not real, that it's evil. You must support him in this, it is who he is. Do I have your promise?"

"It's… it's not Godly," she murmured.

"I have a good friend who is both a witch and Christian," he said. "Would you like to meet her?" He was certain that Minerva would, if he asked… he'd come to very much respect the Transfigurations professor. She seemed to understand him well, and he did appreciate her, though they held different views on many things.

"I… I couldn't possibly…" she began.

"I will ask Minerva to visit," he said with finality. He stood before she could protest again, setting the chair back in its place. He strode to the kitchen, pulling open the cupboard where Annie kept the pills the muggle doctors gave her. They'd explained what the pills were for: to stabilise her moods, to lift depression. Severus had resisted the urge to throw them all out, to cast cheering charms, give her calming draughts. It sounded like they'd do the same thing. But Annie wasn't sad, really, not in the short-term way a cheering charm could help. She wasn't usually agitated. She just didn't show much interest in the world beyond their son… except when she forgot. When she forgot, she couldn't quite seem to figure out why he was there, and sometimes she just left him, though never for so long as she had the first time. It was those moments that Severus most wanted to take Robin away with him, not bring him back. But for the most part, she doted on him, and Robin adored his mother. It wouldn't have been fair on either of them. Robin was too old now to just forget, and there would always be questions.

He picked up on of the odd plastic packs encasing the pills. He should start keeping track of how many she had, he realised, what she'd taken. They were popped out at random through the packet, not in neat order, and she seemed to have more of one type left than the others. He considered himself an intelligent man, and he'd almost completed his training as a healer before being forced into teaching, but the long names, filled with unusual consonants, stymied him. He couldn't remember which did what. He brandished the rattling packet. "Have you been taking these properly?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered immediately.

"Truly?" he questioned with a cocked eyebrow. "What do you take when?"

She looked down at her feet and shuffled about like a third-year who hadn't done their homework. "When I need them, you know…" she muttered.

He threw the package down on the countertop with far more force than was necessary. "They do not work like that, Annie!" he growled. The muggle doctor had been quite clear on that matter. "Fetch me pen and paper," he demanded.

Half an hour later, he'd reduced Annie to tears, but he'd drawn up a schedule of her medications based on the instructions on each package. He stuck it to the fridge, next to a finger painting of what might have been a spider, but he really couldn't be sure. "You need to look after yourself, or you cannot be a fit mother," he explained.

She looked up at him, tearstained. "I don't like them, Severus," she complained. "They make me tired, they make me feel not myself… I can't feel God when I take them."

Severus quietly wondered if perhaps that was a good thing. "Take the damned pills, Annie," he sighed. "I will be back tomorrow morning for Robin." He wished he could comfort her, but he had no idea what to say to her. He left her, striding down the garden to his usual apparition spot. The morning would come soon enough.

It did, of course. He'd spoken to Minerva the night before about Annie, and about bringing Robin for a visit to Hogwarts. And now, it was ten minutes to nine. Severus had carefully checked his chambers for anything dangerous for a small child, locking and warding the door to his lab, setting locking charms on all the cupboards low enough for Robin to reach… he kept having to remind himself that the boy was reasonable enough to do as he was told… he was no longer two.

Severus found himself checking his pocket watch, watching the seconds ticking by. He transfigured his robes into muggle-appropriate attire, and, five minutes early, he apparated back to Annie's garden. He turned the back door handle, but it was locked. He frowned. Annie knew he was coming, it should be open. A little stab of panic shot through his chest- had she taken Robin away? With no money, no job, no family, she'd never be able to manage! He didn't even bother to fish out his keys, he just unlocked the door with his wand. The curtains were all still drawn, the kitchen and living room in darkness, uninhabited. He climbed the stairs with a heavy stone in the pit of his belly.

He went immediately to Robin's room, fearing that the bed would be empty, rumpled, abandoned. He'd be able to find his son- they shared a blood bond, after all- but it would take precious time.

He sagged against the door frame in relief. The bed was rumpled and empty, but Robin was sitting on the floor, still in his pyjamas, apparently acting out some scene with his cuddly toys. The boy looked up at him, a smile spreading across his face. "Wanna play?" he asked, holding out a stuffed lion Lily had bought him. It had been a barbed joke from her.

Severus sank to the floor across from his son, cross legged. He ignored the lion, selecting Robin's favourite teddy instead. "What are we playing?" he asked.

"Magic school!" Robin replied delightedly.

"Indeed," Severus said. "Where is your mother, Robin?"

"In bed," Robin said matter of factly. "She won't wake up. What's school like?"

"You'll find out in two weeks," Severus said with a frown. "Stay here. I shall be back in a moment." He set the teddy down next to Robin and rose to his feet again.

He pushed open Annie's bedroom door with some reluctance. He had no idea what he'd find.

She was curled tightly, the blankets clinging to her so they outlined her foetal position. "Annie?"

No response. Fearing the worst, he stepped forward to place two fingers on the side of her neck, checking for a pulse. She flinched. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice low and sleepy and not quite all there.

"Checking you were still alive," Severus said harshly. "What's going on, Annie? Why aren't you up?"

"What's the point?" she snapped, not even rolling to face him. "You're going to take him from me, you're going to take my Robin, and he's all I have."

Severus clenched his fists until his nails dug painful crescents into his palms. "I have no desire to take Robin away from you," he ground out. "It would hurt him too much. I want to take him out for one day, Annie, one single, solitary day. It is not too much to ask!"

"You won't bring him back!"

"You have my word, Annie, that I will bring him back. When have I ever gone back on my word?" He felt more like he was arguing with a child than with a woman his own age! "I promise you that tonight, Robin will be asleep in his bed, in this house."

"You'll magic him!" she cried.

"That's not a bad thing," Severus said. "Magic is a wonderful tool… it can heal, it can achieve things that human strength cannot."

She stayed silent, staring at the opposite wall. Severus huffed. "Very well," he said. "You may act like a child. I shall get Robin ready, and take him out for the day, we shall see you again by seven o'clock. I will ensure that he has had his tea before that time. If you are not behaving rationally by that time, I shall take him to spend the night with me and we will return in the morning. This will continue until I find you out of bed and ready to behave like a mother and not a spoilt child." He turned on his heel and walked back into Robin's room. "Come, Robin," he said. "It is time to get dressed."

Severus realised with some embarrassment that he had no idea where Robin's clothes lived. Between checking the drawers, and Robin's slightly silly help, he managed to piece together a reasonable selection of clothes. He didn't think he'd dressed the child in anything but his pyjamas after a bath since Robin had stopped wearing nappies. At least Annie managed to keep the child in clean clothes, though she often seemed to have very little food in the house. This morning, the bread had green spots on it. Severus dropped it into the kitchen bin. "We're going somewhere else for breakfast," he told Robin.

"To see the fluffle skins?" Robin asked.

"Puffskeins. Yes, we're going to see the puffskeins, but first, you need to eat." He crouched in front of the child, bringing him to Robin's eye level. "Do you remember what I told you about magic yesterday?" he asked.

Robin scuffed his little toes on the kitchen floor. "I'm not allowed to tell anyone," he said.

"That's right, well done," Severus said, and was rewarded by a beaming smile. "I'm going to take you to where I live now. It's a magical castle, and it's where magical children go to school when they are eleven years old. We're going to go and meet some of the other teachers there, but they already know about magic, so you don't have to hide it."

Robin suddenly looked very nervous. "I don't want to go," he whispered.

"Why not?"

Robin just looked at the ground, not saying anything. "Robin, are you frightened?" Severus asked.

Robin nodded.

"These people will like you, Robin. One day, most of them will be your teachers. They like children, and it's a wonderful place. There are secret passageways and tall towers and hidden rooms. Wouldn't you like to see all of that?"

"Yes..." Robin answered slowly, as if he was losing his train of thought.

"I'll be with you all the time. I promise I won't leave you alone at all, and if you don't like something, all you have to do is tell me and we'll do something else, okay?" He tucked a strand of Robin's soft hair back behind the boy's ear: Annie kept it just to his chin, and it was so glossy that it hardly needed brushing- it fell out of tangles as soon as it was in them. Severus had no idea where he'd acquired such lovely hair: it was the rich colour of Annie's, but didn't have her curls, but it was smoother, glossier than Severus' own. "Would that be alright?"

Robin worried at his lower lip. Severus waited. "Okay," Robin said eventually.

Severus managed a very small smile. "Good boy," he said. "Now, where we're going is a very long way away, so walking or getting the bus would be silly. But I'm a wizard, and I have special ways of travelling. It'll feel very odd, but it means we can be there straight away, alright?"

"Okay," Robin agreed.

"Come on then," Severus said, standing and holding out his hand to his son. "We have to go to the bottom of the garden, okay?" Robin slipped his little hand into Severus', roughened from the last few years of preparing potions ingredients and brewing for the school.

He'd thought quite carefully about where best to apparate. Eventually, he'd decided on the far shore of the great lake: it was how most people saw Hogwarts for the first time, so it seemed only sensible to follow the tradition. Hagrid had been only too happy to pull out one of the boats and send it over when Severus had called on him early that morning. It was waiting there now, gentle wavelets lapping at its side. The treeline of the forest still hid the castle from view. Robin gasped, panting a little.

"Do you feel alright?" severus asked. Apparition was certainly an unusual sensation, side-along even more so.

"Squished…" Robin said, wide eyed, looking at his arms and down his body as if he expected to be a different shape now.

"That's normal," Severus assured him. "It does get easier. Shall we?" he gestured to the boat. He couldn't decide if he was excited or terrified to be taking Robin to Hogwarts. A little of both, perhaps.

As nervous as he was, he knew it had to be done. The child couldn't grow up with no knowledge. He squared his shoulders. "Come on then, Robin," he said. "Let's go and find something to amuse ourselves with."