A/N: So, I wanted to give a bit of a preview as to where we're heading timing-wise in this story…

First (just after the break), we'll journey with Harry through the Pensieve… I hope you all enjoy the trip. I felt I could not move forward into the next instalment without addressing some of the memories, because I was certain Harry would not have much patience either where these were concerned. So this chapter will be flashback heavy. Chapter 18 will see our Golden Trio attend the professional Quidditch match in Edinburgh that Harry bought tickets to for Ron and Hermione last Christmas (see Yuletide, Part I Ch. 20). After that, we will have two more chapters of summer hols, then convene with the start of autumn term around the beginning of September real-time.

Review responses at the end of the chapter again – thank you SO much to everyone who commented! I really do appreciate hearing from the readers, and encourage everyone to share their thoughts!

Enjoy Chapter 17!

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DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and story lines are the property of the wonderful Joanne Rowling, in whose world I am honoured and privileged to have an opportunity to play for a while.

Chapter 17: The Memories

All through the rest of the day, Harry could think only of the box of memories. He wanted to rush straight back to the castle from lunch and beg Dumbledore to allow him to use the Pensieve. But Albus told him, gently, that he thought it would be best to wait until after supper. So Harry wiled away the later portion of the afternoon opening gifts from abroad that Hermione and Ron had sent, and visiting with Hagrid, whom he hadn't seen much of this summer at all. He tried to get the gamekeeper to tell him which memories he himself had contributed to Harry's new collection… but Hagrid would only admit, with a wink, that he'd provided two for the occasion.

By the time supper had ended, Harry thought the anticipation might well kill him. He practically bounded the seven staircases up to the headmaster's quarters when the dinner broke up, and paced impatiently before the hearth as Albus retrieved the stone basin.

'Harry,' the headmaster said, looking seriously at him over the edge of the Pensieve, 'I do want to impress on you that I meant what I said earlier today. These memories are yours now, and I shall not take that away… but I want you to exercise great caution in how you chose to treasure them. As I told you the day I discovered you in front of the Mirror of Erised, we are forsaken if we pine only for dreams of the past, and forget to live our lives. Your parents would not thank you if you spent your life watching theirs… do you understand?'

'Yes,' Harry agreed at once. 'I promise, Albus.'

'Very well,' the headmaster said, smiling. 'Then I think you should chose three to view tonight. It is usually best to take these things in smaller doses. I shall make the journey with you, in case explanations are needed.'

Harry opened the precious box again, hovering his hand above the rows of silver phials. There were no labels, so he would be going in blind. With a thrill of anticipation, he selected the first phial. It felt almost warm in his hand.

'This one,' he said, holding the memory out to Dumbledore. The headmaster smiled as he uncorked it, tipping the silvery substance into the basin below. The memory pooled and shifted, swirling bits of colour flashing by as it settled in the Pensieve.

'Come,' Albus said, holding his hand out to Harry. 'And let us take the plunge together.'

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Harry was standing in an ordinary village street, brightly light in a summer's sun. The lane was lined with cosy looking brick cottages, each set back from the street and surrounded by flowing gardens. The village was alive in a lazy sort of way, children running about in a distant square and people in fine dress and hats filing out of a little church down the way, where bells tolled the end of services. Harry thought it must be a Sunday.

In front of him, a woman in a long green dress was walking briskly down the row of houses, darting glances about her that suggested a wariness inapposite with the pleasant summer's day. Harry recognised the high black bun, though the Muggle clothing was odd to witness.

'You must follow her,' the headmaster whispered at his side. 'You will not be able to remain here if she moves out of sight.'

Harry nodded, hurrying up the lane after Minerva's hem. She moved quickly. and though the headmaster could match pace with ease, Harry had to run a bit to keep up with his much-shorter legs. He was slightly breathless when at last she stopped – outside the gate at the very end of the row of houses. Withdrawing her wand from her sleeve, Minerva muttered a low incantation, tapping the top of the iron. The gate glowed gold as she finished the spell, and swing inward to admit her. Dumbledore nodded Harry to follow.

'Where are we?' he asked, as they tailed Minerva up a winding garden path.

'Godric's Hollow, in the West Country,' Albus answered with a sad smile. 'This was your parents' home.'

His parents' home… his home.

Harry drank in the little cottage with keen interest, as though he would only ever have this one chance to see it. The front gardens were abloom with various flowers and plants – mostly Muggle, though Harry recognised a Flutterby bush by the door to the cottage. His mother must have been keen on roses, for several varieties in a rainbow of colours lined the path and the edges of the front hedge. The house itself was brick and homely and perfectly ordinary, with a high pointed roof and many-paned windows. The sides of the cottage were covered in ivy that had creeped nearly to the first floor, and Harry could see the sitting room through a bay window at the front in which a ginger cat bathed in the sunshine.

Then Minerva tapped a phoenix-shaped knocker on the white-washed door, and Harry found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

A man answered the call almost at once. He was tall, though not nearly so tall as the headmaster, with a slender build that still hinted at muscle. His black hair was untidy and mussed, just as Harry's always seemed to be. He wore spectacles over hazel eyes, and a tired smile. His face was young – much younger than Harry could have thought possible, even though he'd stared at it nearly every night for over a year in photographs. Harry might not have thought him out of place in a seventh form lesson at Hogwarts.

'James,' Minerva said fondly, stepping up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. 'Congratulations.'

'Hello, Minerva,' he greeted her, putting an arm around her back in embrace. 'And thank you. Won't you come in?'

He stepped back to allow her into the house, and Harry and Albus hurried over the threshold in turn. James Potter passed within millimetres of Harry's shoulder as he made to shut the door behind them. Though Harry knew it was a memory… though he knew his father could not feel his presence… he still felt goose pimples rise on his arm.

James was very gentle in closing the door and Minerva – taking the cue – kept equally silent.

'Is this a bad time?' she asked in a solicitous whisper, as James gestured her into the sitting room. 'I can always come back in the evening.'

'Not at all,' James assured her, swinging a door to close out any noise to the front hall. 'He never sleeps more than a few hours at a clip anyway, and we're coming on three. I just don't want to wake Lily before I have to – she's been exhausted.'

'I'm sure,' Minerva said in sympathy. She wandered over to stroke the cat, perching on the bay window seat. The animal purred contentedly beneath her touch as she clucked her tongue at him. James watched the exchange with an amused smirk.

'Would you like some tea?' he asked her innocently. 'Or should I bring out a saucer and cream for you and Darby to share?'

'Enough of that cheek,' Minerva reprimanded in a hiss, 'Or I shall hex you into a mouse and Darby and I shall share you.'

The effect of the threat was slightly ruined by the smile in her eyes. Harry, who had been focused mostly on his father's handsome face, was struck suddenly by the change in Minerva's. It was not nearly so lined, and the square spectacles Harry had always seen the professor wear were absent now. Her eyes – without the glass in front of them – were actually a striking shade of green Harry hadn't really noticed before. They were not the deep emerald of his own or his mother's, but warm and light – like springtime grass. She looked much younger than Harry had ever known her.

'She's beautiful,' Harry said softly, with a glance at the headmaster. 'She looks so young – I never realised before.'

The headmaster smiled. 'Minerva was only about forty-five or so,' he acknowledged with a nod. 'But she has always been wise beyond her years.'

At that moment, the little scene was interrupted by a baby's high-pitched cry. James, who was just returning with tea through a door Harry assumed led to the kitchen, tensed at once.

'I told you,' he said, with a sigh. He set the cups down on a low table, as Minerva got to her feet.

'Shall I wait here?' she asked uncertainly.

'Of course not,' James said, smiling at her. 'Come and meet him. Lily would love to see you as well.'

He led Minerva back through the swinging door to the hall, and Harry and Dumbledore followed. They made their way up a narrow stairwell. Harry saw pictures lining the climb – scenes from his parents' childhood and courtship: James and Lily laughing on the Hogwarts grounds; a very young Lily and a sour looking child Harry thought might be his Aunt Petunia, making shapes in the sand at a beach; a young black-haired boy that looked very like himself, standing proudly with a broomstick wearing the Gryffindor colours. There were other photos that Harry recognised from his own collection – his parents' wedding, the two of them with Dumbledore on the day they'd left Hogwarts. At any other moment, Harry would have dearly loved to stop and study each one… but his mother was at the top of these stairs, and he was too eager to see her for more than a cursory examination.

'James?' a soft, tired voice echoed from down the corridor as they alighted at the top of the stairwell, 'Can you bring him to me?'

Harry froze. She sounded so different from the only other time he'd heard her – when she'd been pleading with Voldemort in her final moments. Her voice was like chimes on the wind; and even through her exhaustion, Harry thought he had never heard a lovelier sound.

'Go on in,' James said, nodding Minerva toward a door at the end of the corridor. 'I'll get the baby first.'

Minerva gave a small smile, sweeping toward the indicated door. And Harry followed, his heart pounding in his chest as she made to enter the room.

Lily Potter was more beautiful than any woman Harry had ever seen. Photographs, the Mirror of Erised… they had not done her justice. She was sitting up in bed when they entered, propped up on a mound of pillows under a thick gold duvet. It was hard to tell from this angle, but Harry thought she would be around McGonagall's height if she stood. Her dark red hair was loose, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She was paler than the photographs Harry had seen – but perhaps that was just recent childbirth. The effect did not take away from her beauty in the slightest; on the contrary, it only enhanced the brilliance of her dark green eyes, and the glowing flush on her cheeks.

'Minerva!' Lily exclaimed, smiling as the professor entered the room. 'I didn't know you were coming today!'

'You look well, Lily darling,' Minerva greeted her, descending on the bed and kissing both her cheeks. 'Motherhood does seem to suit you.'

'You're a dear,' Lily said with a smile. 'I'm so glad you've come. Have you seen him yet?'

Minerva shook her head. 'I've only just arrived,' she told her. 'And you were both asleep.'

At that moment, James came through the open door, a tiny bundle in his arms. Harry realised the bundle was himself, tiny and pink, with a shock of untidy hair. James was cradling Baby Harry expertly, one arm supporting the infant while the other held a bottle for the baby to suckle. It was a very odd experience – to see himself as a days old infant – but Harry was far more focused on James and Lily's tender expressions than his own appearance.

'Oh Lily, he's precious,' Minerva breathed, rushing over to peek at the baby's face. 'Just beautiful – and he has your eyes; how wonderful.'

'So we've heard,' said James, with a mock grumble. 'I ask you – what's so wrong with my eyes, then?'

'Everything else will be you,' Minerva pointed out, trailing a finger down the baby's cheek. 'You can tell already. It's nice to see both parents represented.'

'Let her hold him, James,' Lily called softly from the bed.

James adjusted his hold on the baby, shifting him gently into Minerva's arms. Minerva took the bottle easily, rocking the child softly as she began to feed him.

'He's so tiny,' she said in awe, bouncing the baby a bit.

'I know,' James said with a grin. 'And Lily was huge at the end… I thought he'd be Hagrid's size when he finally came ou– ouch!'

He jumped a little, rubbing his bum, as Lily slipped her wand covertly back under her blankets on the bed with a wicked grin. James turned an accusatory scowl on her that faded abruptly to a frown of concern as he spied the wand disappearing.

'Lils,' James cautioned, 'The healers said a week. It's only been three days.'

'I'm fine, James,' she assured him. 'I'm not leaving the bed, am I?'

'You're supposed to be on magical rest,' he reminded her. He held out his hand. 'Give it here.'

'No,' Lily said, splaying her arms protectively over the bedclothes.

'Lily…'

Minerva poked her head up from her gushing over the baby, watching the exchange with amusement.

'What's this?' she asked.

James answered at once, clearly hoping for an ally. 'Lily is supposed to be in bed on magical rest until Thursday,' he told her, sounding exactly like a Gryffindor student snitching on a classmate to his Head of House. 'She's finding it a bit difficult, it seems. Though how she managed to find her wand without leaving the bed is beyond me.'

'Remus got it for me,' she said with another half-smile. 'He likes me better than you, you know.'

'Which is why I didn't tell him where I'd hidden it,' James retorted.

Lily laughed. 'That bit I'd worked out for myself,' she said.

'The back of the broom cupboard?' Minerva guessed. James looked astounded, while Lily merely laughed again.

'Really, James, cunning concealment has never been a particular talent of yours; you're a much more direct sort of man.'

'Remind me to hex Remus the next time he pops by,' James muttered darkly. 'And give it back, Lils, unless you want to spend another week stuck in here.'

Lily's eyes were dancing now. 'Come and get it,' she challenged instead.

With a mock growl, James pounced onto the bed, holding himself over Harry's mother in a stance like a pouncing tiger and sending Lily into a fit of giggles again as she squirmed, trying to keep the wand's location covered. He kissed his way down her neck, increasing her squirming as she scrabbled his chest with her fingers, trying to push him away. He managed to pin her wrists with one of his hands, running the other snakelike down her side and under the duvet. Harry felt his face grow red with embarrassment watching the interaction, though at the same time his heart was singing.

'I win,' James said in triumph, waving the wand in front of her nose as he finally emerged from the sheets. Lily gave a dramatic pout, but she did not look truly fussed over her defeat. James leaned down carefully, and kissed her once on the tip of the nose before releasing her wrists and pushing himself off the bed again.

Minerva raised her eyebrows at him. James merely shrugged. 'She's not supposed to exert herself,' he told her, throwing the wand carelessly so it spun through the air and catching it with the opposite arm behind his back. 'No walking about, no spellwork, no taxing her magical core until Lance says she's healed enough.'

'Quite a list of restrictions,' Minerva remarked dryly. 'I wonder whether thrashing about like a pair of kneazles in heat is on the list of healer-approved activity?'

Lily blushed a bit, but James gave the professor a wholly-unconvincing wide-eyed look of innocence. Harry wondered whether that had ever worked on McGonagall when his father had been at school… because it certainly would not have worked for Harry.

'She's supposed to stay in bed,' James pointed out. 'Thrashing about is a bed activity.'

'And Harry?' Minerva asked, gesturing with her head to the infant in her arms. 'What a sight for a baby to witness.'

'Harry doesn't mind,' James said with a wicked smirk. 'That's how he got here in the first place.'

'James!' Lily hissed in horror, flapping a hand at him to quiet his vulgarity.

Harry was very glad of it, because he definitely felt hot around the ears now.

Minerva gave a snort that was half-amusement, half-disapproval, turning her attention back to the baby again.

'I'll set you an example, darling,' she cooed to him. 'Even if your parents can't stop acting like teenagers.'

'Oi!' James protested. 'Don't poison him against me.'

Lily laughed again. Harry thought he would never get enough of the sound. But the scene began to whiten around him, Lily's laughter fading into the mist, and he and Dumbledore were pulled up and out of the bedroom, back to the headmaster's study.

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Harry landed squarely on his feet, though it took him a few moments for his mind to catch up to the return of his body. He shook his head slightly. He could still hear his mother's laugher.

'What did you think?' Albus asked, fixing him with a knowing smile.

'They were… happy,' Harry offered lamely, reddening a bit as he recalled the scene.

Albus chuckled. 'Indeed they were,' he agreed with a smile. 'Never more so than after you were born.'

'My father – he was funny. And taller than I expected,' Harry said. 'And… she was beautiful,' he added quietly. 'My mum. I never really knew before… it's so different to see her alive and talking and everything.'

'She was a lovely woman,' Albus nodded softly. 'And your father was a kind and gifted man. There is much in you of both of them. The best of both of them, if I can say so without bias.'

Harry felt himself go slightly pink again.

'Can I see another?' he asked tentatively. Dumbledore smiled, gesturing toward the box.

Harry selected another phial, watching keenly as the headmaster poured it out.

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The cottage was lit with a thousand fairy lights, draped around a massive tree that took up half the sitting room and shining in the snow-edged windows. His parents weren't in the room and, for a moment, Harry thought he and the headmaster were quite alone. Then, from the other side of the tree, Harry heard an indignant yowl, followed quickly by a baby's happy gurgle.

'Harry,' a voice admonished.

Harry turned in confusion, but Dumbledore was smiling at him, shaking his head. He gestured that Harry should walk further into the room. Frowning, Harry made his way around the tree… and understood.

The headmaster was smiling beside him, and the headmaster was also seated on a low ottoman, watching over a black-haired baby who could only be himself. He was older this time, and he could sit up on his own. He had on a fuzzy green baby jumper, with a golden image of a stag's head embroidered on the front. The headmaster looked much the same as ever, though his face was a little less lined and his hair still showed some very fine streaks of the auburn colour it had been in memory Harry had seen the previous year in Tom Riddle's diary. He was wearing magnificent robes of sweeping red and gold.

'You look almost like Father Christmas,' Harry commented, with an impertinent grin for the present-day Dumbledore.

The headmaster chuckled, but merely nodded his head for Harry to keep watching.

The ginger cat from the previous memory emerged from under the skirt of the sofa, a very mistrustful expression on his face as he surveyed the baby Harry. Baby Harry waived his tiny fists at the cat's appearance, trying valiantly to scoot himself closer, though only succeeding in swaying ominously from side to side. The cat twitched its ears, darting under the cover of the skirt again, and the baby's bottom lip started to tremble.

'Darby doesn't like it when you pull his tail, Harry,' the younger Dumbledore informed him gently. Baby Harry turned at the sound of the voice, cocking his head and stuffing the fingers of one hand in his mouth. He didn't seem to understand the words, and his eyebrows were constricting in frustration.

Quite suddenly, the cat zoomed out from under the sofa, looking disgruntled and resigned as he ploughed into the tiny child, knocking him over. Baby Harry giggled, taking the very wet hand from his mouth and trying valiantly to put both arms around the animal as he lay on his back.

Thirteen-year-old Harry stared.

'Was that –'

'Accidental magic,' the headmaster agreed, his eyes twinkling. 'You showed it quite early, I must admit. This particular summoning action was one of your favourites, much to poor Darby's displeasure.'

The Dumbledore in the past smiled indulgently, even while he leaned down to rescue the unfortunate cat. The baby did not appreciate his freeing the animal, and promptly dissolved into a fit of tears.

'Oh now, that's enough of that,' Dumbledore said, smiling as he lifted the child from the floor and set him upon his knee. 'Do you want to play with the smoke again?'

The baby stopped crying as he was held, staring through huge, wet eyes into Dumbledore's face. He moved the hand toward his mouth again, but the headmaster caught it up, spelling it free of drool and cat hair before he could suckle on the dirt. Harry stared at the clean hand in surprise, and promptly stuffed it into Dumbledore's flowing beard instead. Albus sighed resignedly, turning the infant so he was propped more comfortably against his chest.

He pulled out his wand, and began to send colourful rings of smoke from the end. The baby let out a high pitched giggle, waving his fists as the rings rose slowly above them.

'I shall be forever jealous of a mind so easily contented,' Albus said softly, bouncing his knee a little as he sent another ring from his wand for the child's amusement. Baby Harry let out another peal of laughter, yanking on poor Dumbledore's beard in his enthusiasm.

'Sorry, sir,' the present day Harry mumbled.

Albus laughed deeply. 'My dear child, if this was all it took to send you into wild happiness today, I would gladly sacrifice all twenty-eight inches of my beard to accomplish it.'

'I wonder,' the headmaster of the past mused, looking thoughtfully down at the tuft of black hair.

Instead of smoke this time, Albus sent forth a brilliant silver light. The light transformed slowly, solidifying into a beautiful phoenix patronus. The baby on his knee stopped his laughter, his eyes going wide as the phoenix's light was reflected in them.

'Oooo,' he gurgled. He released the headmaster's hair at last as he leaned forward toward the phoenix, reaching out both hands as though to touch it. The headmaster adjusted his grip quickly to keep the child from falling to the floor, but directed the phoenix with his other hand. The bird glided closer, hovering above the baby's head. Harry tried valiantly to swipe at it. His tiny hand only flew through the patronus' light.

'Hello, Harry,' the phoenix spoke, in Dumbledore's deep voice. The baby dropped his arms again, leaning into Dumbledore's chest as he considered the strange creature.

'How did you make it do that?' Harry asked, looking at his own version of Dumbledore with eyes almost as wide. 'I didn't know patronuses could actually talk.'

Dumbledore inclined his head. 'That is how they might be used to relay messages,' he informed Harry. 'I shall teach you the charm once you have mastered the conjuring with Remus. I am rather fond of it, as it is one of my own invention.'

'Albus?' a woman's voice called from the front hall. Both Harrys turned at once toward the voice, anticipating Lily's arrival. The silver phoenix faded slowly from view.

'I'm so sorry we were gone so long; the queue at the bakery was mad,' Lily said, coming into view around the massive Christmas tree. She was pink in the cheeks from her time in the cold, and busily shedding a thick, fur-lined travelling cloak. She, like Dumbledore, was wearing fancy dress robes beneath for the festive occasion, hers in a glittering deep green. 'James will be along in a moment; he's just chatting with Bathilda.'

Baby Harry was impatient at the lack of attention, kicking his legs against Albus' knee as he reached insistently for his mother. She rushed over with a smile as she cast the cloak aside.

'Hello darling,' she greeted him, sweeping him up with a practised ease and nuzzling his nose. 'Mummy's missed you.' The baby gave an excited squeal, gripping the neck of her robes as he buried his head beneath her chin.

'Batty will be along around four,' James' voice called, as he too sidled through the door, laden down with packages and slightly breathless. 'She said to pass along her best, Albus, if you're sure you can't stay to tea.'

'I told you not to call her that, James!' Lily admonished, adjusting Harry on her hip as she shot a glare at her husband. 'It's horridly disrespectful.'

'Hello love,' James said, rebalancing his shopping to give Harry a kiss on the forehead. 'And don't scold, Lily, she likes it.'

Lily rolled her eyes as James lugged the many packages into the kitchen, but both incarnations of Dumbledore chuckled.

'She does,' the present-day Dumbledore admitted in Harry's ear. Harry, who had no idea who it was they were all on about, could only frown his confusion.

'Thank you so much for taking him all morning,' Lily said to Dumbledore, as the latter rose from his ottoman. 'I don't know what we would have done – with the boys working until supper and the Longbottoms out of town.'

'It was not a problem at all,' Dumbledore assured her with a smile. 'We get on very well, don't we child?' He ran a fond hand over the top of Baby Harry's head. The child giggled again.

'I must say, it makes a wonderful change to have children about for the holiday.'

'What are you on about, Albus?' said James with a laugh, stepping back through into the sitting room and tugging Harry from Lily's grasp. He blew a raspberry on the baby's stomach as he swung him through the air, sending the child into a peal of laughter again. 'You have hundreds of children every Christmas.'

'Not in the same sense,' said the headmaster, smiling at Baby Harry again. 'And there are fewer every year. Parents do not want to be separated from their children at the holidays – not now. And I quite understand the sentiment.'

The merriment of the room seemed to fade for a moment, as Harry's parents exchanged a tense look. James clutched the baby a bit tighter.

'Well, Harry loves you all the same, don't you buddy?' he said, bouncing the child on his hip. 'And you know you're always welcome here, Albus. Anytime. You're sure you can't stay to dinner? Batty and Remus will be coming – they have the evening off tonight.'

'I'm afraid not,' Albus said with a sigh. 'I am needed at the castle. But it really has been an enjoyable morning, and I will try to stop in again over the holiday season.'

He reached over again to tickle the baby's stomach.

'Goodbye, little one,' he said gently. 'I shall see you soon.'

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'Who's Batty?' asked Harry curiously, as he and Albus alighted again on the office floor. It took him less time than the previous trip to regain his equilibrium. Harry supposed that it was something one got used to with practise.

Albus smiled. 'A dear friend,' he said. 'And a neighbour of your parents, at the time. Her true name is Bathilda Bagshot. She was quite fond of you, and came by to look in on your family many times while you were living in Godric's Hollow.'

'Bathilda Bagshot,' Harry repeated, frowning. The headmaster's eyes twinkled.

'I think I know the name,' Harry said. 'It's… familiar, somehow.'

'It ought to be,' Albus said, the twinkle increasing. 'As it is embossed on the cover of one of your textbooks. Alas, I suspect not the textbook you have perused with the utmost care.'

Harry felt himself blushing again. 'Er…'

'She is the author of A History of Magic,' Dumbledore supplied helpfully. 'A most gifted magical historian, and a close friend of mine since my own childhood.'

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'She must be…'

'Quite old?' the headmaster suggested, chuckling a bit.

'Er – I was going to say a talented witch,' Harry lied quickly.

'I am sure you were,' said Albus, still twinkling madly. He stole a glance at his wristwatch. 'That particular recollection was a little longer than I anticipated,' he said. 'It is already quite late.'

'Please, just one more,' Harry needled. Albus hesitated.

'Very well,' he allowed. 'But just the one. Minerva will have my head if you are up past midnight – birthday or not.'

Harry hurried to choose the final phial, passing it to Dumbledore again and storing the two they had already viewed carefully back in the velvet.

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This time, he knew at once whose memory he was in. Remus was standing at the doorway of the nursery, looking very familiar but for the lack of grey in his hair. He was staring at the young Harry with one eyebrow raised.

Baby Harry was older again. He could stand – or, at least, he could balance while holding the bars of his cot. And he was staring back at Remus just as resolutely, sniffling a bit. The room was in near darkness save for the glow of a single candle on the table by the door. Even the night outside seemed to be moonless.

'Dada,' the baby said.

Remus sighed. 'I'm sorry, love, your mum and dad have gone out for a bit. Don't you want to go night-night?'

'Mama,' the baby whinged a little more insistently, bouncing his knees as he grew agitated.

Remus ran a hand through his hair. 'Why tonight?' he muttered, seemingly to himself. 'Okay… night-night, Harry,' he said in a sing-song voice, backing slowly out of the room. He had barely swung the door before the baby let out an almighty wail, throwing himself onto the mattress and stamping his tiny feet in utter misery.

Remus threw the door back open at once, striding into the room like the world might be ending. Harry stopped his wobbly when Remus' face came back into view, sniffling through a runny nose as he reached up for him.

Remus sighed again, rubbing the baby's tummy but not picking him up. 'I'm not supposed to,' he said apologetically, to the clearly oblivious child. 'Lily says you'll never learn to soothe yourself to sleep if we keep picking you back up.'

'Mama,' the baby said tearfully again.

'I'm sorry, sweetheart,' Remus said, looking equally as miserable. 'Why don't you cuddle with the bear?' He offered a soft toy to the emotional baby. Harry pressed it to his chest, still fixing Remus with a pitiful stare. Remus pulled a woven blanket up over both Harry and the cuddly toy, rubbing his back in soft circles. Slowly, Harry's eyes began to close, though he continued to sniffle pathetically.

When the baby's eyes had stayed shut for a good two minutes, Remus slowed his circles. At last, he gingerly pulled his hand back from the blanket, tiptoeing back across the room toward the door. He had no sooner put his hand on the knob, however, when the child awoke again.

'DADA!' he screamed, dissolving into tears again. Remus jumped so badly he smacked his head against the doorframe, letting loose a hissed oath that momentarily surprised the baby out of his hysterics, then only redoubled the wailing.

Harry grimaced at the headmaster, wondering why he was seeing this particular scene.

'Oh love, I'm sorry,' Remus apologised, hurrying for the cot again. 'I didn't mean it. I'm not cross at you, darling.'

Ignoring whatever instruction he might have received, Remus leaned over the bars and scooped the small child up, rocking him gently against his chest.

'Shush, it's alright,' he hushed, bouncing Harry to calm his tears. The child slowly hiccupped himself into quiet, clinging to Remus' robes with one tiny fist. 'There now,' Remus said as the baby calmed down, brushing at his reddened cheeks to wipe away the moisture. 'That's better, isn't it?'

Harry still looked miserable, and Remus frowned with his knuckles on his cheek. He moved the hand up to the baby's head, the frown deepening.

'You're very warm, darling. Are you feeling poorly?' he asked. The baby only continued to stare up at him through his tears. Remus looked a bit nervous.

'Come on, let's go down then,' he said, adjusting Harry so he was seated more securely on his hip. The baby leaned his head in the hollow of Remus' neck, still sniffling in the wake of his wobbly.

Harry and Dumbledore followed the pair down into the little kitchen. It was changed since the last memory – a high child's chair had been fitted into one side of the table, and a plethora of baby toys lay in a basket in the corner. Remus tried to seat Harry into the plastic contraption, but the child immediately began to shriek again as he attempted to set him down, clinging to Remus' robes like a lifeline.

'Alright, alright,' Remus soothed, taking Harry up again and patting him on the back. He continued the rhythmic patting as he started to open various kitchen cupboards, the vibrations working a pattern into Harry's continued sobs.

'Where do they keep the potions?' Remus hissed, apparently to himself, as he continued to rummage in the kitchen stores. He looked over his chin at the top of Harry's head, frowning again. 'Can you even have potion?' he asked him doubtfully. Harry nuzzled his neck again, wiping a snotty nose on his collar.

'Right,' Remus said with another sigh. 'Hot chocolate then? That always seems to help when I'm in a temper.'

He fumbled to juggle Harry and retrieve his wand from a pocket, swirling it at the ice box to summon milk and another cabinet for cocoa. In a few moments, he had a kettle whirring on the hob, and siphoned two measures of hot chocolate into a mug and a baby's bottle. He hovered both over to the table, seating himself in the end chair and positioning the tiny Harry in his lap.

'Do you like chocolate?' Remus asked, positioning the bottle for Harry to drink. Harry sipped at it doubtfully for a moment, then took the bottle easily from Remus' hand. Remus let out a breath of relief as the baby quieted with the treat, and older Harry too relished the return of the blissful silence.

The baby's eyes were drooping again as the bottle reached half-full. Remus rescued it from Harry's slackened grip, wiping a bit of the residue from Harry's chin. He rocked the child gently, apparently attempting to lull him into slumber again.

A sudden whoosh from the room next door stopped Remus' sway, and prompted Harry to wakefulness once more.

'Mama?' Harry said again, looking up into Remus' face.

'Do I hear a devilish little blighter who's up past his bedtime?' a menacing voice growled from beyond the door.

Harry gave a squeal of delight, all signs of exhaustion gone. 'Dada!' he called in joy, nearly toppling the bottle from the table as he started to thrash in Remus' grip.

James Potter pushed through the swinging door, winging Harry up from Remus' lap and tossing him high into the air. The baby squealed with glee, holding his arms wide as James caught him again, and nuzzling into his neck.

'I tried the self-soothing thing,' Remus said, looking lost as James nuzzled Harry back. 'But honestly – I don't know how you do it.'

'I don't,' James admitted with a wink. 'It was Lily's idea. She says it's supposed to be better for the baby in the end, to help them begin to put themselves back to sleep and learn that –'

'That someone won't come running every time he cries or carries on,' said Lily sternly, sidling through the door behind him and looking cross.

Harry noticed that – quite unlike Christmas – neither she nor his father were at all dressed for a party tonight. The revelation surprised him, as he had figured Remus' presence meant his parents were having some sort of date-night for themselves. On the contrary, both Lily and James Potter looked as though they were dressed for battle. Their robes were deepest black and cut for ease of quick movement, not unlike his own quidditch attire. Lily had her long red hair pinned back tightly, and James' face was looking decidedly bruised on one side.

'I'm an only child,' James said with a careless shrug. 'Someone always did come running when I carried on. Isn't that right, love?' he added in a higher voice, bouncing Harry a little.

'Well, Harry might not be,' Lily pointed out. 'And you're only going to spoil him if you keep it up.'

'A bit of spoiling never ruined anyone,' James retorted, giving Lily puppy eyes over the top of Harry's head. 'Just look how wonderfully I turned out.'

Lily scoffed. 'That's what Petunia says,' she told him with an innocent smile. 'Perhaps Harry will get on well with his little cousin after all.'

James stopped rocking Harry at once, looking horrified. He passed the baby to her with dramatic abruptness.

'You're quite right, love,' he said seriously, as Lily kissed her son in welcome. 'Let's never go in his room again.'

'I think he's running a temperature,' said Remus, rising from the table and interrupting the banter. 'That's why I brought him down tonight.'

James dropped the playful act at once, looking deeply concerned. Lily put a pale hand on Harry's forehead.

'What's wrong, darling?' she crooned in his ear. 'Have you got a sniffle?'

'I'll call for a healer,' James said immediately, already pushing the door to the sitting room ajar.

'Oh Jamie, there's no need for that,' Lily said. 'He's not that warm; it's probably just teething. He's due about now.'

'Are you sure?' James asked, still frowning at the baby like he might break out in pox any moment.

'Yes,' Lily said, kissing the top of Harry's head. 'We'll have a spot of potion and then a nice lie-down, isn't that right pumpkin?'

'I wasn't sure whether I could give him anything,' Remus admitted, looking a tad chagrined. 'He's so little… I didn't know whether our potions were safe for him. So I made some hot chocolate instead.'

'Mother Nature's best cure,' James agreed with a laugh, reaching into a high cabinet and retrieving a few brightly coloured phials. He nodded at the cabinet door. 'That's where the child versions are, for future. They're all labelled, so even you aren't likely to bungle it.'

'Thanks,' Remus said sarcastically, catching two phials one after another as James tossed them through the air. Lily took them from his grasp, dropping a bit of each into the half-full bottle of chocolate.

'How did it go tonight?' he asked, as Lily coaxed the sleepy Harry into taking the medicated bottle and James sank tiredly into another chair.

'Not bad,' James said, relaxing into the seat. 'Bit of a rumble, but no casualties from our side.'

'Good,' said Remus, looking grim. 'We can't afford anything else right now.'

'I'd have much rather been here,' James admitted, leaning across his wife to run a finger over Harry's cheek. 'Was he much trouble for you?'

'He's never much trouble,' Remus said with an indulgent smile. 'At least, not until bedtime.'

Harry looked between them with half-mast green eyes, almost as if he knew he was the topic of discussion. James bent his face low so it was on a level with the baby's, looking very seriously into his face.

'Now you listen to me, young man,' he said sternly. 'You must promise me to always cause your Uncle Remus a bit of trouble, you hear me? Otherwise, he forgets what it's like to have fun.'

Harry gave a three-toothed grin around the teat, and all three of the adults laughed.

And the scene dissolved again into a sea of white, pulling Harry from the happy kitchen.

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'I think that is enough for tonight,' Albus said, as they emerged from the final memory at last. He took in this older Harry's eyes, which were nearly as heavy as the much younger version's had been. 'It is high time we both went up.'

To his surprise, Harry flung his arms around his middle again. Albus hugged him back tightly.

'Thank you,' Harry said thickly, still holding the embrace. 'That was… it was just wonderful. All of it. This has been the best birthday I've ever had.'

'You are quite welcome, my dear child,' Albus said softly, smoothing the top of his head. They broke apart at last and, with a small smile, Harry hurried up the stairs.

'And may you have many, many more,' Albus whispered quietly, as he flicked his wrist to dim the lights.

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Deep in the Forbidden Forest, Sirius' sleep was far less sanguine. He tossed and turned against the dried leaves of the makeshift shelter, caught in the tumult of nightmare once more.

It was New Year again… a whole year since that horrible night when he'd thought he'd lost James forever; since Sean had been taken from them. And, like a twisted reincarnation, Sirius was once again staggering bloodstained from a battlefield, his heart heavy with loss and disillusionment.

He couldn't face the empty flat… He couldn't be there tonight, with his bed still smelling like her. With her hair still clinging to the pillow. With her half-drunk cup of tea with that coral lipstick stain, just a bit off centre.

Numb and desperate, he apparated to the only other place he could go – the only people he ever cared to see again.

Lily was waiting at the door, her own face grave and understanding and Harry sleeping in her arms. She stepped aside without a word to let him in, and they walked together to the kitchen table. The little room still bore signs of the New Year meal she and James had been sharing with Harry when he'd been called away.

James – who was doing what Sirius could not. Who was telling her parents they were childless.

He sank into the end chair, barely aware of his own actions. Lily took the seat next to him. She waited in silence for him to speak first. Sirius knew she had already heard the news; knew Dumbledore would have told her what happened tonight. But he needed to say it aloud all the same.

'Marley's dead,' Sirius said blankly. He felt empty; hollow. He wasn't even sure if he was sad, or if he even had the energy for grief. Perhaps, he was just in shock.

Mostly, he was just tired.

'I know,' Lily said quietly. She put a hand on his arm, shifting Harry so she could reach him. 'I'm so sorry, Sirius.' Her own eyes were brimming with tears.

Sirius shrugged helplessly. 'It's not like I had a claim over her,' he said tonelessly. 'Just because we were shagging?'

'Oh Sirius, that's not what it was, and you know it,' Lily said softly. She brushed a stray tear from her cheek before it could fall onto Harry's head.

'Did you love her?' she asked, looking at him closely.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. He wanted desperately to slam it against the table – but he didn't want to wake the baby.

'I don't know, Lils,' he said at last. 'Sometimes I feel like I don't know anything anymore.'

She squeezed his arm sympathetically and whipped out her wand, summoning over a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

'I thought you weren't partaking, while you're still feeding the baby?' he said, his voice almost jesting; if joking was something he thought he'd ever be capable of again. Lily gave him a faint smile.

'I'm sure one drink won't hurt him any,' she said. 'Alice says she never bothered with all that tosh after the baby was actually born.'

She poured two healthy measures of the whisky – the Muggle way, rather than with her wand. Sirius knew she was taking the extra effort as a sign of respect for Marlene's memory. She slid one across the table to him, and raised her own.

'To Marley,' she said.

'Marley,' Sirius whispered in agreement. He knocked back the drink in one go, and pushed the glass aside. Lily sat with him in silence – and he was grateful.

'You know, sometimes,' he said, 'I don't even know why we do this. What's the point of all this bloodshed? What's the point of this sodding war? So much pointless death. So many ruined families. Sometimes, it seems just a waste of dozens of lives. Sometimes,' he admitted, very quietly, 'I forget what we're even fighting for.'

Without replying, Lily stood. Gently, she reached over the table and tucked Harry into Sirius' arms. The baby gave a small sigh as he was shifted, registering in his sleep the change of environment. He nuzzled his little head into Sirius' chest. At five months, he'd grown much sturdier. His warm weight was a comfort to Sirius' aching heart.

'We do it for them, Sirius,' Lily said quietly, pulling her chair closer to reseat herself and resting her head on his shoulder as they watched the baby sleep. 'We do it for Harry – and for all the other children out there. So that they do not have to grow up in the world that we did; so that they do not have to face prejudice, and horror, and the bloodstained reality of war. So that nobody might steal their innocence, and tear their loved ones away. We fight for him. We fight for them. We fight to give them a future.'

Sirius jolted awake, sweaty and shaking again in the wake of the memory. He could almost feel Lily's head on his shoulder, as if her love, and Marley's, and James', was guiding him even now, a dozen years later, in this dirty little hovel where he'd hidden himself away.

For Harry. He would do this – for Harry.

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Chapter 16 Review Responses:

BlueWater5: Thank you for reviewing! I am glad you liked the memory gift – I hope you enjoy where those take Harry (and us).

Shadowhunter: Thank you for your review, and congratulations on finishing your studies! You must be American, because for me it's really been two in back to back days… but I'm glad I could oblige with fast updating this time! : ) Apologies for the tearful ending; it seemed the only way to adequately close on a dramatic few chapters. But I'm glad you like the idea of the memories – I'm looking forward to exploring them along with Harry. And, hopefully, these do give him a way to be close to his parents and hear their voices without jeopardising his health in the process.

As to your query… I've been thinking on it ever since the start of this series; how to go about exploring the 'romantic' side of things for Harry. JKR gave an interview around the time of POA's release where she was asked about Harry's love life (or lack thereof). She said at the time that because of the events in Harry's life, he's a little more mature than other wizards his age in some of the darker aspects of life, whereas in other areas – like witches – he's woefully behind the pace… but that we would see that aspect come more into play in future. My Harry here is quite similar to canon in that respect; he hasn't really thought of interest in girls yet… or, at least, not much about it. There are a few moments of what might be tension with Hermione in Part I, but nothing at all definitive. And, certainly, he's oblivious in large part as to what sort of relationship Albus/Minerva have, and is instead thrown when he sees them sitting close together, or exchanging a kiss on the cheek, or in their dressing gowns in the headmaster's quarters… I think in part that is because they haven't felt comfortable revealing their connection; and in part it is that Harry is a bit too innocent to see the obvious. That obliviousness won't last much longer. As to who might have the 'Talk' with Harry… I can't give that away, I'm afraid, but I promise you will not be disappointed. Though I must say, I rather like your Aberforth impression…

Runic magic has always fascinated me, as it is hinted at in canon but really a largely-unexplored realm. It's association with warding, as well as most of the explanation that Dumbledore provides in Chapter 16, is therefore mainly of my own imagination (and could just as easily be entirely incorrect). But, certainly, Ancient Runes have an association with Dumbledore, and Grindelwald… and (in DH) with the Tales of Beedle the Bard. Both runic magic and wandless casting will most certainly have important roles to play in the continuation of the story.

Baelkaz: Thank you for reviewing! I'm really glad you liked the flashback sequences so much – they were a lot of fun to write. It was strange how it came about, actually, because I hadn't originally intended to go there… but I literally woke up one morning last week and it was all just in my head, as though it just always had happened that way. So I figured, why not? In any case, happy you are enjoying the story and please keep reading and reviewing!

AECM: I'm glad you enjoyed Chapter 16, and thanks for reviewing! Harry will definitely study ancient runes with the headmaster but, for right now, is still enrolled to take divination as well… much to Minerva's displeasure. But, as Albus told her in the previous book, he believes it important that they let Harry make his own decisions about which subjects he'd like to study – and nobody else from their form has teachers stepping in to alter their timetables because they disapprove. Does that mean that Harry's off the hook, though? Not a chance! It'll be interesting to see how the memories affect Harry – in his patronus abilities and elsewhere… I hope you enjoy it!

LordTicky: Glad you liked the bit with Harry's naming! Thank you again for reviewing and I hope you liked this chapter!

Guest: Thank you for your review and support! I hope you continue to enjoy the story – though this update is a bit longer in coming than the rapid-fire of the week-end.

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thank you for reviewing! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. I will say, I debated over whether to have Severus in attendance at the little gathering… but it just didn't feel quite right. I don't think he's yet at a place where he would want to be there (nor is Harry, really); but, mostly, I think he's still cross with Dumbledore and vice versa. Severus's journey is one of the most interesting to write, and I hope one of the more interesting to read. Enjoy the continuation!