A/N: Not much to say, except that it is quite late and I anticipate a possible need to edit this tomorrow… however, I am anxious to post as often as possible in the next few weeks, as once our daughters arrive I imagine things will be difficult for a bit. We are moving into the back-half of this book now… which is perhaps a good thing, as I believe Part II will max out at between 45 and 50 chapters.

Enjoy 'We Twa Hae Run About the Braes,' and please read and review!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and/or story lines are the property of Joanne Rowling.

Chapter 32: We Twa Hae Run About the Braes

By the time Harry awoke the sun was already high in the sky, the grounds brilliant with the sparkling of light off the snow. Once his eyes were open, Harry wondered how he'd ever kept them closed against the brightness.

A musical trill sounded as he reached for his glasses.

''Lo Fawkes,' he greeted the phoenix, as Fawkes' gold and scarlet plumage came into focus. He was perched on top of Harry's immense wardrobe, watching him closely. 'You been here all night?' Harry asked in surprise, climbing out of the bed.

In answer, the phoenix trilled again: a high, beautiful note that filled Harry like a balm for the soul. Then he took to the air and vanished in a flash of flame.

Harry stepped back in surprise, then relaxed as a single golden tail feather and a scroll of parchment fluttered to the floor. He bent to retrieve it.

Harry,

Minerva and I have gone down to see to the departure of most of the students for the Christmas holiday, but we thought you could do with a lie in this morning. Fawkes will alert Mina when you've awakened, and she will bring breakfast to the sitting room.

I shall see you later.

Albus

Harry read the note through with half a smile before setting it on the little desk. He dressed quickly, scarfed down a bit of toast and some porridge, and hurried back to the Tower to find Ron and Hermione.

They were seated in the best chairs by the fire, the sole occupants of the usually bustling common room. Harry looked around in surprise.

'Has everyone else gone, then?' he asked.

Ron gave a sort of half-grunt of agreement, half-moan, massaging his stomach. Hermione rolled her eyes at him before addressing Harry.

'Yes,' she confirmed. 'It's just us from Gryffindor this Christmas.'

'What's up with you?' Harry asked, watching Ron continue to squirm uncomfortably in the chair.

'Ate half his Honeydukes sweets before breakfast,' Hermione scoffed impatiently. 'Overindulged. Mint toads, chocolate frogs, fizzing Whizbees, sugar –'

'Alright, you've had your laugh,' Ron interrupted weakly, while Harry tried to stifle his snort. 'Let's not go through the litany again…'

Hermione smirked, but she dropped the subject. She considered Harry instead. 'You look a bit better today,' she noted. 'Like you've had some sleep.'

'Where'd you go last night?' Ron asked, his eyes narrowing as he finally dropped his hand from his stomach.

'Er – McGonagall came and got me,' Harry hedged. 'Wanted me to talk with Dumbledore. I spent the rest of the night up there.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

'What?' Harry asked, slightly defensive.

Hermione smiled. 'Nothing,' she assured him. 'We just thought it'd be something like that.'

Not sure how to reply to this, Harry flopped down into one of the armchairs instead. Crookshanks wound himself once between Harry's legs, then spread over the carpet to bask in the warmth from the fire. Ron scowled at him distrustfully. The cat caught the gaze, and gave an almost teasing flick of his tail in Ron's direction.

'So… do you want to talk about it now?' Ron asked, looking half apprehensive, half intrigued.

'Ron!' Hermione hissed. 'We said we wouldn't –'

'It's alright,' Harry said with a sigh. 'There isn't much to say, anyway. They all basically confirmed what we'd already heard. I told them you lot had repeated it to me, because of course I couldn't say about the map. Remus called Dumbledore. Nobody could say why they hadn't figured out earlier that Black was the traitor… and that was it, really.'

'You – you haven't still got a mind you ought to go after him yourself?' Ron asked tentatively.

Harry didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.

'Harry, the Dementors will catch him,' Hermione promised, looking scared again. 'He'll go back to Azkaban, and –'

'And what?' Harry challenged. 'It doesn't matter, Hermione. Azkaban isn't a punishment for Black like it is for normal people. The Dementors don't affect him like they do everyone else… like they do me,' he emphasised. 'You heard what Fudge said.'

'So what… you're going to kill him instead?' Ron said through gritted teeth. 'Come off it. Even if you did somehow catch him, you'd never manage it, Harry. You'll be giving Black exactly what he wants. You know what Pettigrew's mum got after Black had blasted him to smithereens? His bloody finger, in a matchbox. That's what she buried, after that madman had his say. I'm not going to be at your funeral, crying over some fragment he leaves behind.'

Harry looked at the two of them, recognising that they'd rehearsed some portion of this conversation while he'd been asleep. Ron's face was beetroot red, his breathing heavy. Hermione looked tearful again. And Harry knew it was pointless to prolong the argument.

He sighed. He didn't want to wallow in this anymore, right now. He wanted distraction.

'What should we do today?' he asked instead, looking expectantly from one to the other.

They exchanged slightly startled glances. 'Er – we could work on the Arithmancy assignment?' Hermione suggested half-heartedly.

Ron made a noise like Crookshanks spotting Scabbers. 'It's the first day of Christmas hols, Hermione,' he moaned. 'I want to do something fun.'

Harry stared out the window as they bickered back and forth, the familiar sound almost comforting. He could see two figures in the distance – Albus and Minerva, he suspected, by the gleaming silver beard he could just discern. He supposed they were walking back from the village after the departure of the Express. An owl fluttered past the window, winging its way over the frozen grounds. Harry watched it until the furl of smoke from Hagrid's chimney obscured his view.

'Let's go down and see Hagrid,' he suggested suddenly.

Ron and Hermione broke off their quarrel, turning to him in surprise.

'Great idea,' Ron said at once. He hopped to his feet.

'Harry,' Hermione started tentatively. 'You're not supposed to be out of the castle on your own. Remember what a fuss he made the last time? Do you really think it's a good –'

'Albus is down there already,' Harry countered, climbing out of the chair to go fetch his cloak. 'I've just seen him and Minerva walking back through the gates. If we hurry, we might catch him up in the entrance hall. I don't think he'll mind, long as Hagrid walks us back up.'

So the three of them hurried to grab their cloaks, pushed out the portrait hole (ignoring the calls to return by Sir Cadogan as they passed), and had just managed to make it down the marble staircase when the oak front doors opened.

'Goodness!' Minerva exclaimed, as Ron nearly bowled her over slipping on the wet flagstones. She steadied him with a well-timed arm. 'And what are you three rushing about for?'

She caught Harry's eye with something more than curiosity in her expression. Dumbledore's blue ones were twinkling beside her.

'Er – we wanted to go and see Hagrid,' he said, looking between the two. 'We can, can't we? If you watch us down the hill, and Hagrid walks us back?'

Minerva looked to Albus, who inclined his head.

'I think that would be suitable,' he agreed. 'You have eaten, I take it?'

'Yes,' Harry said quickly. 'Thanks for that, sir.'

'And we'll be back for lunch, professor,' Ron assured him. Hermione scoffed under her breath.

'You had better run along then,' Minerva put in with half a smile. 'You've only an hour to go.'

The trio nodded in unison, already making for the doors. It was chilly and bright outside, the snow from the high banks blowing about their faces in the light wind. They raced each other down the hillside toward the warmth, pink-faced and breathless as at last they hauled themselves up the huge steps of the cabin.

Harry pounded on the door.

'Has he gone out?' Hermione asked, shivering as she darted a worried glance back at the castle.

'I can hear something…' Ron began, pressing his ear to the wood.

'Hagrid?' Harry called, banging louder. 'Go on – it's us!'

'It's a sort of keening,' Ron opined, listening again when Harry's summons received no answer. He exchanged a wary look with the others. 'You don't reckon he's got some new – argh!'

Ron pitched forward as the door was thrown open quite suddenly. Harry managed to grab the back of his cloak at the last moment, and pulled him straight again before he could re-break his nose on Hagrid's shin.

'Hagrid!' Hermione said, looking shocked at the sight of him. 'What's happened to you?'

Harry, reassured Ron was steady on his feet, looked up too. Hagrid's massive face was swollen, his eyes bloodshot. Tear tracks were evident on his ruddy cheeks, and the faint odour of spirit hung around him despite the early hour.

He gave a great sniff, mumbled 'Yeh've heard!' and threw himself forward onto Harry and Ron's necks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'Harry!' Albus greeted with a smile, as the boy's shock of untidy black hair appeared around the edge of the office door a mere half-hour or so after he'd seen the trio off to Hagrid's. He set aside the letter from Cornelius he'd been perusing and stood out from behind his desk. 'I did not think to see you back here quite so soon. Is everything alright?'

'Er – yes,' Harry said, slightly awkwardly.

Albus wondered if Harry was looking to reopen the discussion from the previous day, but apparently the boy had pushed the thought from his mind for now. Instead, he continued:

'Have you, er, spoken to Hagrid, lately?'

Albus raised an eyebrow. 'I saw him at supper last night,' he recounted. 'But I do not believe he made it to breakfast. Was something the matter when you dropped by today?'

'Yes,' Harry said, twisting a corner of his robes.

Albus smiled indulgently. 'Just ask, Harry,' he encouraged. This awkwardness was quite unlike him, of late.

'He doesn't want me to,' Harry admitted. 'He thinks it'll put you out.'

Albus waited. After a moment, Harry let out a breath.

'Alright, so, you know about Buckbeak?' he asked in a rush. The headmaster nodded, and he hurried on. 'Right, so he knows you spoke for him with the Ministry… kept him out of trouble. But they are still bringing charges against the hippogriff, apparently.'

Albus sighed. 'Yes,' he said sadly. 'With Lucius Malfoy involved, it is hardly unexpected.'

'Yeah, well… Hagrid needs help,' Harry said pleadingly. 'He can't put up a defence on his own – he's no idea what he's doing. We told him we'd look into it for him, try to find some research or something that will help… but you know that will end up being Hermione for the most part, and she really hasn't time… and he doesn't think he can ask it of you, and without someone doing something he's definitely going to… and Buckbeak will…'

Albus held up a hand, interrupting the barely-sensible rant. 'Harry, of course I will stand for Hagrid and the hippogriff, if he needs assistance,' he said gently. 'You hardly need ask.'

Harry's shoulders relaxed slightly. 'Thanks,' he said in relief. 'Er – you probably… probably shouldn't tell him I've asked you,' he admitted. When Albus cocked his head, Harry went on. 'He told me not to. He thought you had helped enough, keeping him out of trouble. And that you have enough going on with Sirius Black and me and everything… I suppose he's not wrong, really,' Harry finished, looking a bit uncertain.

Albus smiled. 'My dear boy,' he said through twinkling eyes. 'You are never too much for me to carry on with, I assure you. And even before you entered this castle, before Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban… do you think I was just idling away the time watching the seven forms progress through the year? Hogwarts – and the wizarding world more generally – have always presented a unique and varied set of challenges. These last few years have been, perhaps, more trying than usual… but they are nothing on what life was like during Voldemort's reign of terror, nor what I expect will come to pass should he ever return. And I am not yet so old as to limit my ability to help where I can, I assure you.'

'Right,' said Harry, though his expression was troubled. 'Except… yesterday…'

'Yesterday was an anomaly,' Albus emphasised firmly. 'I appreciate your concern, my dear child, but I do think I can safely promise that such indisposition does not often strike me. And I am feeling much recovered for a night of decent rest – as you, yourself, also seem to be.'

Harry smiled just a fraction. But he looked reassured all the same.

'Was there something else?' Albus asked politely. 'Or would you like to have tea?'

'Er – actually…' Harry hesitated. 'I did say I'd meet Ron and Hermione up in the Common Room for a bit,' he admitted guiltily. 'But I can put them off, sir, if you want to –'

Albus was already shaking his head. 'Go,' he insisted. 'It is the holidays, and you should be enjoying yourselves. We will have time enough to take tea together before your lessons resume.'

'Thanks,' said Harry with another smile. He hurried for the door.

Albus shook his head with his own small smile as the boy disappeared beyond, giving a cheery wave in farewell before the door to the office shut again. He was glad that – for the moment – Harry appeared to have been distracted from his anger and betrayal, and that he was spending time with his friends instead of wallowing in bitterness. But it was also odd to let him go, when he knew the Harry of a year ago, perhaps even the Harry of this past summer, would have clung to the office and the headmaster like a sanctuary.

He headed over to the opposite corner, where Fawkes was watching him dolefully from his perch. With one long finger, he stroked the phoenix's head. The bird closed his eyes at the headmaster's touch.

'He is growing up,' he told Fawkes, quietly.

He was not quite sure how he felt about this. There were things that Harry must learn when he grew… things Albus was not ready to tell him.

And he wondered, with a sense of deep foreboding, if he ever really would be.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'Did you ask him?' Ron demanded, before Harry even had his feet through the portrait hole.

'Yeah,' Harry said. He walked over to join them, shucking the travelling cloak he still wore and dropping it over the back of a chair. Crookshanks hissed as the black folds smacked him in the face. 'Oh, sorry,' he said to the cat, as it rearranged itself disgruntledly. 'Didn't know it was occupied.'

He flopped into a seat at the table where Ron and Hermione were working, a mixture of Magical Law books and their holiday assignments spread over its surface. Ron stuck a scrap of parchment in the corner of the large tome he'd been leafing through, and shoved it away with a satisfied smirk. Hermione sniffled slightly as she looked up from her own work: Arithmancy, it looked like. She still looked chilled from the snowy weather outdoors.

'What did he say?' she asked, rubbing at the end of her nose.

Harry smiled. 'He said he'd help, of course,' he assured them. 'Hagrid will be miffed that I asked, but honestly – Albus will be loads better than whatever we can scrounge together.'

'Cheers,' said Ron happily, taking the massive volume of law he'd just bookmarked and pushing it entirely out of reach with a relieved sigh.

Hermione gave a light sneeze.

'Bless you,' Harry said automatically, frowning as he looked at her. She waved him off impatiently.

'That's one down, then,' she said in satisfaction. 'We ought to get through some of this before luncheon, and we can hopefully put a few subjects behind us by supper.'

Ron stared at her, open-mouthed. 'Hermione, it's the first day of hols!' he complained. 'Can't we have a rest for once?'

She gave him her signature glare – the one that reminded Harry strongly of Minerva.

'If we do it now, we won't have to between Christmas and New Year,' she pointed out. 'And you are free to do whatever you want, Ronald. Harry and I have more subjects than you.'

'You have more subjects than anyone in the school,' Harry opined, growing a bit concerned as she bent over her books again.

He hadn't really noticed it much before – what with all his own work, Sirius Black, the Dementors and Quidditch to occupy his mind and anxiety… but now that he really looked at her, he thought Hermione was definitely showing the strain of her overloaded timetable. He felt guilty for not picking up on it sooner. She had circles under her eyes that were darker than Remus', and her bushy hair looked almost electrified. Of course, she was always up earlier than any of the others, working away in the common room on some subject or another. And she was usually the last to bed. She never complained, Hermione. Always found time to help him and Ron with their own work, or worry over him and Sirius Black; be his confidant about Remus… but, suddenly, Harry felt like he'd fallen down on his own duties by letting her run herself into the ground like this.

He passed over a handkerchief as Hermione sneezed again.

'Maybe we ought to pack it in for today,' he suggested, eying her warily. 'You look peaky.'

She blew her nose irritably, but bent over the textbook again. 'Nonsense, I'm fine – just a tickle. I'll go for a Pepper-Up tomorrow if it's not gone.'

'You sound like Harry,' Ron opined as he scrutinised her too. Harry shot him an annoyed glare, but Ron was unrepentant. '"I'm fine,"' he quipped back at his best friend. 'You know, whenever you say that, it's usually our confirmation that you really aren't. I don't get it – do you two just like to suffer longer?'

'It's a chill, Ron, not an amputated limb,' Hermione said in exasperation. 'And if it's still there tomorrow, I'll get a potion from Madam Pomfrey.'

'Better get it now, before we go down to the Great Hall,' Harry recommended, frowning at her. 'Because even if you don't think you need it, Minerva will take one look at you and I promise she'll drag all three of us up to see Pomfrey before they serve pudding.'

'Oh, so my cold is about you, then?' Hermione challenged, looked caught between annoyance and amusement.

'Yes,' Harry said seriously. 'Or it will be, if McGonagall sniffs you out. You don't know what she's like. I've had more potions in the last two years than I've had colds in my whole life. She's dead sneaky about it to – sometimes she slips them in when you're least expecting it.'

'You lot and your sniffles,' Ron put in, shaking his head with a laugh. 'Must be rough, being so delicate.'

Harry, reminded strongly of Madam Pomfrey fussing about at the start of term, felt mildly offended. 'I'm hardly ever ill!' he pointed out. 'No more than you.'

'Nah, mate,' Ron said confidently. 'Never catch anything. Weasley immunity.'

Hermione looked up from the handkerchief to snort derisively. 'Weasley immunity?' she repeated sardonically. 'What utter rubbish.'

Harry sniggered, but Ron protested at once. 'It's not!' he insisted. 'Look, I grew up with six other kids, remember? We passed all sorts back and forth when we were small – you name it.' He started counting off on his fingers – 'Colds, flus, mad Muggle nonsense, Mumblemumps, Fairy Fainting… Fred, George and Percy even had Dragon Pox once just after Charlie went off to school. Ginny and I missed that one, thank Merlin.'

Hermione cocked her head, looking curious. Ron shrugged.

'It was a nightmare,' he recounted. 'Poor Mum was driven mad trying to throw up all those quarantine charms all the time, but it was usually too late. Upside is, none of us ever gets ill now – too many immunities built up.'

'I grew up with Dudley,' Harry pointed out. 'And Hermione and I both went to primary school.'

'Not the same,' Ron said confidently. 'Hermione's an only child. And you grew up in a cupboard, mate. Just face it: my constitution's a bit stronger than yours.'

Harry punched him in the side, and Ron doubled over with a muffled 'oof!'

'Hmm… yeah, I can see it now,' Harry mocked.

'Tosser,' Ron mumbled, rubbing at his ribs.

'You know, that actually makes a fair bit of sense,' Hermione opined, looking slightly shocked as she pondered Ron's theory.

Ron rolled his eyes. 'Always the tone of surprise,' he muttered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They did manage to convince Hermione to stop off at the hospital wing for some Pepper-Up before luncheon. Madam Pomfrey kept her through the afternoon for 'rest and observation,' and Harry and Ron turned up alone to the Great Hall for the meal. Harry was, therefore, completely unsurprised when Minerva insisted on forcing the other two to down a measure of preventative potion as well. He sent Ron an 'I told you so' grimace as she pressed matching phials into their hands, and stifled his own laughter as Ron tried to convince McGonagall that his 'Weasley immunity' would protect him.

He looked like a boiling carrot with the steam rolling out from his ears.

The rest of the week before Christmas Day passed in a happier haze then the end of term. Harry had not forgotten Sirius Black or his anger at the adults for concealing the truth for so long… but it was difficult to stay wallowing in perpetual misery when the castle was festooned in holly and fairy lights, the suits of armour could be heard belting out carols in every corner of the school, and the delicious aroma of Christmas cooking pervaded the corridors.

He and Ron indulged the recovered Hermione by diligently working on their winter assignments for a day or so, and both had to admit they were happier having put the bulk of their school work behind them. Albus agreed to watch them outside the following afternoon, so they could roughhouse in the snow for a time with the three other students who remained behind for the holiday. It was odd, not having the rest of the Weasley clan to choose teams for a snow fight. Harry remembered with a grin the winter of his first year at Hogwarts, when Fred and George had bewitched a number of snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell, bouncing cheerily off the back of his turban as he walked across the grounds…

He wondered if the twins knew they had been pummelling Lord Voldemort in the face? He'd have to remember to enlighten them.

This year, with Molly and Arthur Weasley remaining at home in lieu of visiting one of their boys abroad, the rest of Ron's family had gone home for the holiday. Ron had told Harry, when he'd asked, that he'd begged off the visit because he couldn't stand a fortnight with Percy. Hermione had said she couldn't afford to be parted from the library for so long, with all the work she had to get through. But Harry knew they both had decided to remain because they didn't want to leave him on his own… and he was grateful for it.

The only other students boarding over the holiday were two tiny first years from Ravenclaw that Harry barely knew even from sight and a sullen-faced fifth form boy from Slytherin. Watching the three standing behind the headmaster (the first years looking highly nervous and the Slytherin boy extremely put out), Harry wondered whether Dumbledore had forced the others outdoors to mingle. The headmaster would not allow them split into uneven teams, so Harry let Ron and Hermione take the little Ravenclaw boy called Derek, while he partnered with the Slytherin – Stefan Cattermole – and a titchy little girl called Honora Selwyn.

The match was not as horrible as he'd anticipated it might be. They were just about quits, which made for a fierce competition… though Harry had the impression the headmaster might be bewitching the occasional shot to keep the action going. Honora Selwyn, who it turned out had parents stationed abroad in South Africa on some assignment from the Ministry, had an arm on her that was almost shocking in its accuracy. Harry suggested, hoping he would not regret it, that she ought to see about a place on her house Quidditch team next year. Derek had stayed behind to keep her company for the holiday, just had Ron and Hermione had for Harry. The sullen-faced Slytherin boy, Stefan, turned out not to be as much snobbish as merely shy and a bit depressed. He, it transpired, hadn't intended to stay at Hogwarts at all… but his mother was at the end of a high-risk pregnancy, and Stefan had had some sort of virus in the last week of term. His stepfather didn't think it a good idea to risk exposing his mother and unborn sibling, even though Stefan wasn't ill anymore… so he'd asked the boy to remain at school. Stefan agreed, but Harry could tell the decision stung.

Harry found, to his surprise, that he actually enjoyed having Stefan as a partner. He was as good at strategy as Ron was, which improved their odds in the match. And he really wasn't half-bad company… for a Slytherin.

They visited Hagrid a couple of times later in the week as well. He was in much better spirits after Albus' promise of assistance, though Harry was grateful the headmaster seemed to have left him out of whatever explanation he'd given the gamekeeper. And on Thursday before Christmas week-end, Harry paid a call to Remus in his chambers.

The professor was looking drawn when he answered the knock, still wrapped in his dressing gown though it was nearly teatime.

'Harry,' Remus said in some surprise and – Harry thought, with the smallest stab of chagrin – with a hint of trepidation. 'Do come in.'

He stepped out of the doorway and Harry entered the familiar sitting room. He forced himself to tamp down on the emotions the space reignited.

'Are you alright?' he asked, considering the pale man before him.

Remus gave a small smile. 'The moon will be full in two days' time,' he explained, tightening the sash of his dressing gown. 'Unfortunately, it is a feeling I am used to.'

Harry's mouth fell open. 'On Christmas!' he exclaimed, aghast. 'You'll miss the feast.'

Remus laughed quietly. 'It will not be the first holiday I must claim illness,' he assured Harry with a sad smile. 'But Albus and Minerva have kindly invited me along for luncheon with Aberforth on Boxing Day. Should I be recovered enough, and you agreeable, I will be glad to have a delayed celebration.'

'Yeah – I mean, of course you should join,' Harry said hurriedly. 'I'm just sorry you'll miss Christmas Day.'

Remus gave a wave of his hand, and gestured toward the sofa. 'Would you like to stay for tea?' he invited, levering himself down into an armchair as Harry took the proffered cushion.

Harry considered the request… but Remus looked so exhausted. 'That's alright,' he said. 'I don't want to wear you out. But I had a question to ask.'

The set of Remus' shoulders tensed just a fraction. 'Oh?'

'Not about… not about Black,' Harry clarified. 'At least, not really. I was wondering if we could start up again with the Patronus lessons… after the moon, of course. I still can't manage one on my own, and if the Dementors turn up at our next Quidditch match…'

He trailed off, but Remus understood. His tired face broke into a true smile.

'Of course, Harry,' he said. 'I would be happy to. Shall we say… next Thursday evening?'

'Ye –' Harry began, but he thought about the date and his agreement faltered in his throat. 'Er – not Thursday,' he said mulishly. 'I've lessons with Snape on Thursdays, except tonight. Albus made us have a break this week… but he's sure to start them up again Thursday next.'

'We'll say Wednesday, then,' Remus adjusted easily. 'How is the wandless magic coming on, by the way?'

Despite Harry's attempt to relieve him of the need to entertain, he conjured a tea set as he spoke. Harry took the offered cup with a word of thanks and settled more comfortably into the sofa.

'It's… okay,' he hedged. 'I'm still having trouble with some of it.'

'You are only thirteen,' Remus reminded him gently. 'That you can practise in wandless magic at all is highly impressive… that you are capable so early even more so. But your magical core is still far from mature, Harry. You can't expect yourself to learn such a difficult field at the pace you will learn your usual subjects. Severus knows that.'

Harry grimaced. 'It's the more focused magic that I can't do right, according to Snape. He says it's because it's based in precision rather than brute force.'

Remus smiled. 'Well, you do have a tendency toward the more obvious,' he teased. But at Harry's frown, he sobered.

'Harry, you have more difficulty with precise, subtle magic because of your age, the relative newness of tuning to your magical core, and your very nature. You are disposed to throw everything you have at something – and that is not a criticism,' he added hastily, as Harry opened his mouth to protest. 'More refined magic will come as you mature. These lessons might be frustrating for a time… but you'll get there, I promise you.'

'Maybe,' Harry said, suddenly a bit despondent. 'I have to look up some new unlocking charms though… and locking ones. Snape's not very impressed with my current repertoire, and I haven't finished this stupid task with the chests…'

Remus looked puzzled, and Harry explained about the exercise Snape had had him working on for the past few weeks. To his surprise, Remus set his own tea on the table and went to peruse a shelf of battered books in the corner of the room. He returned a few moments later with a particularly tattered copy of a volume called The Mischief-Maker's Guide.

'Have a look through that,' Remus suggested. 'Mind you, you'd better not tell Minerva I gave it to you, or she'll have my hide for her mantle. And don't go round trying anything else you might read in there –' he warned with an admonitory look – 'But you'll find a useful chapter on getting through magically sealed doors.'

'Brilliant – thanks!' Harry said with a grin, taking the tome from Remus' hand. 'Mischief-makers,' he read out, struck by the sudden similarity.

'Yes, as I say, don't let on to Minerva,' Remus warned again. He freshened their tea cups.

Harry almost voiced his musings aloud, but he clammed up just in time. Remus might be rather like an indulgent uncle at times like these… but he doubted very much that the professor would be pleased to learn that Harry had an object like the Marauder's Map. And he would probably guess very quickly what Harry had been doing with it, if Harry revealed too much.

Remus was looking at him oddly, and Harry realised that his pending question must have shown somewhat on his face. He hurried to ask a different one.

'Could my dad do wandless magic?'

'Hmm,' Remus considered, choosing a crumpet from a plate he'd just conjured. He offered the plate out to Harry. 'He could, yes,' he decided. 'Though he didn't often use it. He wasn't as well versed in wandless casting as Albus is, or even Professor Snape… but of course, he died very young. He might have been just as proficient had he lived. James was quite gifted in Transfiguration – most of the times I saw him use wandless spellwork, it was in that area. Your mother, on the other hand, was very fond of wandless magic. Perhaps it came from her Muggle upbringing… perhaps it was just who Lily was. But she wasn't as married to her wand as James seemed to be.'

Harry smiled. 'That seems like her,' he said, thinking back to the memories of his mother.

'Yes, well, you have a bit of both of them, in your own magic,' Remus said fondly. 'This "brute force" as you've described it… that is James – carbon copy. But I suspect that your talent in wandless casting comes from Lily, Harry. And if you can learn to channel her, you will find the finesse you are looking for is easier to reach.'

Harry awoke on Christmas morning with a muttered oath, flinging back the pillow that Ron had tossed at his head. Judging by the chilly light creeping through their window, the sun hadn't even risen yet.

'Wanker,' Harry spat in annoyance, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and reaching for his glasses.

'And a very happy Christmas to you too,' Ron greeted him with a wicked grin. He was already seated on the edge of his bed, happily ripping the wrappings off a new model sphinx that Harry supposed was probably a gift from Bill. 'You've presents, you know,' he pointed out, nodding to the small pile on the end of Harry's bed.

Harry yawned and stretched a bit, then pulled the first parcel toward himself. He woke up somewhat as he unwrapped the usual Weasley gift – which this year included a scarlet jumper with the Gryffindor lion emblazoned across the front, assorted mince pies, Christmas cake and brittle. He'd just moved the sweets aside when he caught sight of a long, thin parcel beneath, wrapped simply in brown paper.

'What's that?' asked Ron suspiciously, spotting the parcel at the same time. 'It looks like…'

Harry's heart leapt. Exchanging a gleeful look with Ron, he hurriedly undid the twine knots and unwound the wrappings. Sure enough, a gleaming mahogany broomstick rolled out onto the bedclothes.

But this wasn't just any broomstick.

'WOW!' Ron exclaimed, his mouth falling comically open as Harry turned the handle so that the name faced up. 'A Firebolt!'

Harry was stunned. The Firebolt was perfect – sleek and shiny, with gold lettering and a serial number stamped at the top of the handle. The broom's magic seemed to thrum as Harry held it, comforting and powerful all at once.

'Can I have a go?' Ron asked eagerly, chucking aside the pair of maroon socks he'd just unwrapped and hurrying over to Harry's bed to ogle the Firebolt more closely.

'Yeah,' Harry said distractedly. 'Yeah… anything. Blimey, who would send me something worth this many galleons?'

Ron rolled his eyes. 'Come off it,' he said, shaking his head. 'Had to be Dumbledore, didn't it? Or McGonagall. She's mad about Quidditch, and she's the one who worked it out so you'd have the Nimbus in first form.'

Harry frowned, thinking on it. It was true that McGonagall had been the one to ensure he was allowed to play, back in first year. More than that, she had recruited him. As rigid a rule-enforcer as she usually was, Minerva had always been lenient where Quidditch came in. He wasn't at all sure, however, that it had been she who had got him the Nimbus. For all he knew, it might have been Dumbledore. Or perhaps they had just ensured that the money was taken from his vault, since he was so young and unused to the Wizarding World. That was something he probably should have asked… but it had never occurred to him to question it before.

Either way though, the Nimbus had been one thing. Top of the line, yes, but it wasn't worth one twelfth of what this broom must have cost. The Firebolt was the international standard – and the most advanced broomstick ever produced. After Ron had pointed it out at the match in Edinburgh over the summer, Harry had read about it obsessively. Even more so since his beloved Nimbus had been smashed. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he'd almost convinced himself it would be an alright use of his parents' fortune to invest in one of these… but the morning light and sanity always negated the impulse.

Somehow, he couldn't imagine Minerva doing something quite so extravagant… nor Dumbledore, who was already usually more anxious about Harry in the air than keen for him to play. And even if it had been one of them –

'There's no note,' he pointed out to Ron. 'Why would they have given me something like this and not even left a note? And look,' he rummaged through the few wrapped parcels still sitting on the edge of his bed. 'This one here is from Albus and Minerva.'

'Maybe it's just fallen off,' Ron suggested. 'Have a look.'

The two of them spent ten minutes digging through Harry's mussed up blankets and the remaining parcels, but if there had been a note, it was long gone now. The Firebolt hovered next to the bed as they rummaged, floating at precisely the right height for Harry to mount.

'I don't see it,' Harry said, frowning again as they finally gave up the search. 'It just doesn't make sense that it'd be them.'

'Maybe it was Remus,' Ron said instead.

But Harry laughed. 'Ron, if Remus had this sort of gold, he'd buy himself a few new robes,' he opined. 'Trust me. He doesn't have this kind of money lying around.'

'Well, who cares,' Ron said, giving up the fight. 'I still think Dumbledore's the best bet. But Harry – it's a Firebolt. Don't sew a niffler's pouch shut, mate.'

Harry opened his mouth to ask what a niffler was, but Ron's eyes suddenly gleamed. 'Do you know what? We should try it out now!'

Harry laughed again. 'Now?' he repeated. 'It's half seven on Christmas morning, Ron. Nobody's even up yet. We'll get killed if we go into the grounds.'

'Call that elf,' Ron suggested. 'You're allowed out if she keeps a lookout, aren't you? You did it all the time this summer.'

Harry was about to counter that 'this summer' had been prior to Sirius Black's attempted break-in at the castle… but Ron's face was so excited… and Harry himself was having a hard time sitting on the bed and holding the broom, when he really wanted to see how it flew.

'Alright then,' he agreed. 'Let's finish up here and we'll go.'

He and Ron finished opening the rest of their Christmas gifts. Harry received a very interesting book on advanced defensive magic from Remus, a packet of assorted Honeydukes sweets from Hermione, and several new sets of robes and a handsome pair of dragonhide boots from the headmaster and Minerva. When they'd finished the unwrapping, Harry summoned an elf. He decided on Lara instead of Mina, however… though he did not think he was technically out of bounds, he was well aware that he and Ron were about to exploit a loophole in the headmaster's explicit instructions. Perhaps a bit further than that, really, as Minerva was having a professor supervise every Quidditch practice during term. Still, Ron was right. The headmaster had let Harry out with a House-elf to watch him a few times over summer hols.

But he suspected Mina, as the headmaster's own elf, was a bit less likely to agree to the scheme.

Lara was a younger elf, still slightly new to Hogwarts, and she wasn't quite as familiar with Harry and the headmaster's relationship as some of the ones he knew better. She agreed to accompany them happily enough, looking pleased to have the responsibility. Harry and Ron dressed quickly in heavier clothes and cloaks. Harry grabbed his new Firebolt, and they shot out of the dormitory before the clock struck eight.

'Happy Christmas to you, too!' Hermione said a bit huffily, as they hurried through the Common Room so fast they completely missed her crossing from the girls' side.

Harry stopped short. Hermione was holding Crookshanks, still clad in her pyjamas, and clearly had been on her way up to say good morning when they'd crossed paths. She was smiling despite the snippy tone, but her expression hardened as she caught sight of the broomstick in Harry's hand.

'Er – thanks for the sweets, Hermione!' Harry said in a winning tone, giving her a grin. In truth, he had been rather hoping he and Ron would be able to get out into the grounds before Hermione awoke… he knew she would not approve of the scheme one bit.

'Where are you off to?' she enquired suspiciously, her eyes still on the new broomstick.

Ron, who clearly hadn't foreseen as much danger in this potential snag as Harry had, answered quickly for the pair of them. 'Harry's got a Firebolt for Christmas!'

'Yes, I can see that,' Hermione replied. Her eyebrows were drawn so close together that they were nearly touching.

Harry felt his unease grow.

'You're not going out to the pitch?' Hermione asked, though it sounded a lot more like a command.

Harry coloured. 'Er – we're not going alone,' he clarified. 'One of the elves is coming. She's meeting us in the entrance hall in five minutes.'

Hermione did not look pacified. 'You aren't supposed to be in the grounds,' she reminded Harry. 'And who sent you the broom? The headmaster?'

'Er – yeah, probably,' Harry answered evasively.

Hermione's look of concern doubled. 'What do you mean, "probably"?'

'There wasn't a note,' Ron clarified. 'But come on – it had to be Dumbledore, didn't it? He and McGonagall were there when Harry's Nimbus was destroyed… Harry basically lives here… and you know how McGonagall is about Quidditch.'

'I think you ought to ask them before you go out,' Hermione said firmly. 'And you ought to ask them if they were the ones who sent –'

'Hermioneee,' Ron moaned. 'It's Christmas! Can't this wait? We're just going for a quick fly before breakfast.'

Harry thought it spoke volumes that Ron was actually putting something ahead of food. Hermione's look of unease, however, did not dissipate.

'I really think you should –'

But she broke off as Crookshanks, who Hermione had set to the ground, suddenly flung himself at Ron's top pocket. The pocket – which obviously held Scabbers – began to quiver and squeak, and Ron, snarling, intercepted the cat mid-leap and threw him bodily aside.

'You ruddy animal!' he screamed at him.

'Ron!' Hermione replied in outrage, distracted by the attack on her cat.

'He's just tried to scalp me, Hermione!' Ron shot back indignantly. 'If you can't control him, you ought to keep him locked up!'

Hermione bristled at once and opened her mouth to shout back, but Harry decided it was time to defuse the situation.

'Come on, Ron,' he muttered. He grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him forcibly from the room, before Hermione could work out what to say next. 'We'll be back within the hour!' he called over his shoulder as he frogmarched Ron to the portrait hole.

Ron had taken Scabbers from his pocket and was trying to soothe him. Harry was disconcerted to see that the rat had lost a lot of weight since the summer. His grey fur looked spotty in places, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. He wanted to say something… but he was afraid of Ron's reaction. He knew the red-head would be miserable if Scabbers should die.

'Should have left him upstairs,' Ron muttered, shoving Scabbers back into his cloak a few moments later.

The bright sun outdoors and the prospect of flight in near future lifted both Harry and Ron's spirits as they made their way into the grounds. Harry had been a bit anxious they might run into a teacher in the corridors, but nobody seemed to be stirring this early on Christmas morning. Lara met them exactly as promised and was kind enough to melt an easier path through the ice.

The pitch was covered in a foot of undisturbed snow; the high goal posts on either end capped with turrets of white. Harry had not flown in more than three weeks now – not since Quidditch practices had stopped for the winter. But today's conditions were bright and clear, and he knew nothing would raise his lately-fallen spirits like an hour in the air.

'You go first,' Ron said as they finally made it to the edge of the pitch. 'It's yours, after all.'

Harry grinned and threw a leg over the mahogany handle. It seemed to vibrate to life beneath him, raising itself to the perfect height for kick-off.

'Cheers,' he said to Ron.

And, with a whoosh of drifting snow, he pushed high into the air.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus hated Christmas morning.

It had never been fun for him as a child. No different, really, than any other day in that miserable house. He supposed his mother had done her best to make it special for him… he always had a few gifts to unwrap, at the very least. Most years, she'd save up a bit of money to prepare a roast for the three of them. But they could never afford anything elaborate. And Tobias was always there. Tobias didn't like Christmas trees. The wizarding crackers Eileen had tried to introduce when Severus was six had nearly caused him to take out her eye. And when she suggested they play Father Christmas for Severus, when he'd been only four or five, his father had sat him down and explained that he wouldn't do it, because teaching Severus that there was some benevolent fat man who was going to pop round and shower him with presents would only make it harder when he grew up and realised the world was full of nothing but takers.

Probably the only rational lesson Tobias had ever given him, really.

At Hogwarts, he'd had a few better years. When she had been there. He celebrated early with her, the first three years, before she returned to Cokeworth and he sought the protection of the castle rather than his father's uncharitable hand. They had always exchanged something small – something that might have been meaningless to any but the other. He'd given her an everblooming daisy once. She'd given him a hand-painted smock. Sometimes, they'd sneak up into old Professor Smithworthy's quarters – which he'd leave unlocked for Severus when he went to visit his grandchildren – and Severus would play at the piano. Lily would sing. She hadn't had the most melodious voice… but it was strong, and clear, and perfect to his ears. She'd liked to hear him play. He hadn't been able to bring himself to touch the keys since she'd died.

That fourth year, she'd stayed with him. He knew it was hard for her… to not go home to her family. But she'd stayed anyway. In retrospect, he thought she might have felt it by then… that he was slipping away. Perhaps she'd stayed to try and save him. Perhaps he hadn't given her a proper chance to try.

In fifth year, she'd gone. But he followed. It was his first year at home for the holiday since he'd left the house for school – and his last. He'd been lucky: Tobias spent almost the entirety of Christmas Day passed out in the sitting room chair, and he and his mother had a peaceful dinner on their own. Later, he'd gone to the Evans' to pull crackers with Lily. And it had felt, just for a fleeting moment, like everything would be alright again… whatever divide had started to solidify between them.

But of course, it was not. And by sixth year, Severus had decided that his father was right, on this one thing. Christmas was nothing but hope for the foolish. A celebration that blinded the gullible to the truth of the world… to the evil that pervaded human nature.

His opinion had not strayed since.

Like most other Christmas mornings, Severus woke unreasonably early on Saturday, haunted by restless sleep and general apathy. It annoyed him – the early hour. As it was Christmas, the elves would not be serving their usual shifts in the Great Hall. Albus encouraged a later breakfast, usually around ten, to tide them over to the Christmas feast in the mid-afternoon. Supper was light, and always quite late… though at times only half the castle's occupants made it that far. The children would be up and opening their presents early, but none of the remaining professors were likely to emerge even for a morning cup of tea for several hours.

Unable to remain in bed and unwilling to sit in the Great Hall alone, Severus decided he may as well use the time to get some work done. A late term spate of colds and flu had left Madam Pomfrey nearly cleaned out of Pepper-Up potion and decongestants and too busy to re-up her supply, so he thought he might brew a few new batches and restock her stores. Perhaps an hour or so bent over a familiar cauldron would allay some of his simmering temper.

He was heading back from the hospital wing and a highly-satisfied mediwitch when he saw her. Hermione Granger, pink-faced and breathless, was racing down the marble steps as though her passing mark depended on reaching the entrance hall. He stepped out of his corridor hurriedly, blocking her path. She nearly ran him down in her haste.

'Running is forbidden in the corridors,' he reminded her with a nasty smirk. 'Five points, Ms Granger.'

'Oh, er – I apologise, professor,' she gasped out. 'I just need to –'

She tried to sidestep him and continue, but Severus moved smoothly to block her way. She looked very upset… panicked, perhaps.

Something to do with Potter, then.

'Where are the other two, Ms Granger?' Severus asked, boring into her eyes with his darker ones.

'I – they left the Tower earlier than I did,' she evaded, biting her lip. 'Actually, I was looking for Professor McGonagall, sir, do you know where I might find her?'

Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow. 'I am not Minerva's keeper,' he said waspishly.

She coloured. 'No sir – of course,' she agreed in a rush. 'But I've already knocked at her quarters, and she wasn't there. I thought, perhaps, the Great Hall –'

'Breakfast is not served on Christmas morning for another ninety minutes,' he said dismissively. 'I suggest you –'

'This can't wait, sir,' Granger said, most uncharacteristically cutting him off. 'I need to see her now! Harry –'

But she stopped herself, chewing her lip more ardently. Severus' gaze hardened. He knew, of course, where Minerva was. If she was not in her own rooms… then she must be with Albus. Unsurprising, given the holiday.

And he was not about to send Granger up to the headmaster.

'What could possibly be so urgent?' he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Granger hesitated. 'I – er – can't you just tell me where…'

'MS GRANGER!' Severus snapped.

Looking quite torn, the girl seemed to steel herself before she went on. 'He got a new broomstick for Christmas, professor,' she admitted at last in a small voice.

'How joyous,' Severus said sarcastically. 'So the Golden Boy has finally ensured the Gryffindor side will not be denied their Seeker in the next match. It truly is Christmas.'

Granger frowned, her brown eyes flashing a bit. 'No, sir. You see….'

She hesitated again, and Severus lost his patience.

'Spit it out, girl!' he snarled at her.

Granger took another deep breath. 'It's just… I thought Professor McGonagall should see it first, sir. He doesn't know who sent it. There wasn't a note with the parcel. And it's a really good broom, apparently. It's called a Firebolt…'

Severus connected the dots even before she'd finished her explanation. Of course, a broomstick… Potter would never be able to resist. Even without knowing Harry Potter, as Severus did, Black would have been able to guess… James was just the same, after all…

But why was the girl so panicky already?

And a horrible thought occurred to him.

'WHERE is Potter?' he asked, louder yet.

She looked back at him through tear-filled eyes. 'He and Ron went out with an elf, sir,' she admitted at last. 'To the Quidditch pitch. And I think –'

But Severus did not hear the rest of her mumbling words. He was already moving.

'Sir!' she called after him in alarm. He did not turn, though he could hear her racing behind him.

That foolish, arrogant brat… Just like James Potter… and that resemblance was about to get him killed...

Why was it always Potter?!

Why was it always Severus that had to stop it?

He crested the hill, Granger still panting at his heels. He could hear them now – the boys on the pitch. Ron Weasley's red hair stood out like blood spatter on the snow, as he whooped in delight from next to a tiny House-elf.

Potter, predictably, was airborne already. Even as Severus quickened his pace, the Seeker started dropping at break-neck speed… barrelling down from a hundred-foot height headfirst toward the frozen ground… and Severus was sure he was already too late. He raised his wand, snarling a cushioning charm toward the falling body…

But Potter pulled out of the dive three feet from the ground, laughing as Weasley exclaimed colourfully again.

'Wicked, mate!' the boy said appreciatively as Potter leapt to the earth. 'That's the best I've ever seen you –'

Potter, however, had sighted the new arrivals. He spun Weasley wordlessly to face them, and his companion broke off his simpering praise with a horrified moan.

'Have you entirely taken leave of your senses, you insolent brats!' Severus roared, finishing his charge in ten long strides. 'You – Go!' he commanded the little elf, who was shaking in fright and twisting her ears between long fingers. She disapparated with a squeal and a pop, and Severus whirled to face the boys again.

'Accio!' he snarled, pointing his wand at the broom in Potter's hand.

It did not move. For a moment, Severus' fury increased as he wondered whether Potter was using a wandless block against him… but Granger cut in –

'It can't be summoned by anyone but the owner, once the broom has imprinted to the rider. It's supposed to minimise possibility of theft or unlawful interference with play.'

Potter, Weasley, and even Severus turned to her, momentarily surprised out of their altercation. Granger's blotchy face grew more scarlet. 'It was in Charms Quarterly,' she explained in a high-pitched voice. 'It's the first time the specialised spell has been applied to international standard –'

'Hand it over, Potter!' Severus snapped, ignoring the remainder of Granger's insipid explanation.

When Potter merely stared at him, caught between surprise and defiance, Severus swept forward and grabbed hold of the broomstick himself.

'It's mine!' Potter cried hotly, tugging back. 'You can't take it! I need it to play, sir.'

'You seem to be labouring under the misguided impression that I care, Potter,' Severus spat viciously. He tightened his grip on the broomstick, jerking it forcibly out of Potter's grasp.

'Oi!' Weasley protested, looking even more indignant than Potter. But Severus shut him up with daggers from his eyes.

'You are both out of bounds, flying about the pitch without permission or supervision,' he said silkily. 'I will take –'

'We weren't!' Potter put in vehemently. 'Lara's been out here the whole time, and it's not forbidden to be out on the pitch in the daytime, even when Quidditch isn't –'

'You are forbidden from being anywhere outside the walls of the castle without the presence of a qualified wizard!' Severus bellowed. 'And Weasley is quite aware of the fact. The House-elf is not a substitute, Potter, as you know perfectly well. That you chose to manipulate her into your scheme is but further proof that you knew the consequences. This escapade will cost you fifty points –'

'Fifty –'

'EACH!' Severus snarled. 'And a week's worth of detention apiece, I should think.'

Weasley's face was so scarlet, Severus thought he was likely to burst the vessels in his eyes. Potter sputtered in rage for a moment, then clamped his jaw so hard that the muscles in his neck were taut.

'Fine,' the boy spat out. 'But you can't take the broom, sir. It's mine. And it isn't illegal to have –'

'Ms Granger informs me that you received this ridiculously extravagant broomstick without indication of a benefactor,' Severus said silkily, over the boy's argument.

Potter and Weasley both glared at their little friend, who blushed heavily. 'I'm sorry, Harry,' she said in a small voice. 'I wasn't – I was going for Professor McGonagall, I was frightened. Professor Snape found me in the corridor and he –'

'It's from Albus,' Potter said, tearing his eyes away from Granger and focusing defiantly on the Potions Master again. 'Or Minerva. The card's just got lost somehow.'

'You think so, do you?' Severus challenged. The boy nodded curtly, but Severus could see the doubt in his eyes.

'I do not,' he said firmly. 'In fact, having been unwillingly privy to a discussion on the matter of your broom's unfortunate demise only yesterday evening, I can assure you with perfect certainty that neither the headmaster nor your Head of House harboured any intention to replace your mount as a Christmas present.'

Potter gaped at him. 'They must… they must have changed their minds,' he said.

Severus sneered. 'Or perhaps, Potter, you ought to use your undersized brain for once in your foolish life. Who would possibly wish to send you a broomstick… a broomstick of such calibre that you would be tempted to fly it immediately, without a thought for possible dangers? Who benefits, should you fall to your death fifty feet up from the ground?'

'Besides you, Malfoy, and the Slytherin Quidditch team, sir?' Weasley muttered under his breath.

'Another twenty points for cheek,' Severus said at once. But he did not tear his penetrating gaze from Potter's face, even to glare at Weasley.

'You… you can't mean you think Sirius Black sent me this?' Potter said, gesturing toward the broomstick now clutched in Severus' hand. 'Why in Merlin's name would he? Spend a fortune trying to kill me by enchanting a broomstick? It's mental.'

Severus took a step closer, his mouth furling into a sneer. 'Precisely, Potter,' he agreed in a low whisper, 'Which is why he should have been first in your thoughts.'

He stepped back, adjusting the broomstick in one hand to better free his wand. 'Come,' he beckoned to the children. 'I believe you are all due a meeting with your Head of House and the headmaster.'

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Review Responses, Chapter 31:

Bella: Thanks for your review! I am sorry… I know it was a bit depressing. But I'm glad you liked it all the same :). The quote about Hell, incidentally, was something I've been saving for a while. I too think it is utterly true.

Enjoy Chapter 32!

Your Conscience: Thanks for your review! And, incidentally, I laughed for a full minute when I saw the name you'd posted. It almost makes me want to grant you an assurance just for wit.

Alas, I cannot promise anything, in the long term. Death is a part of life, after all. I will assure you that I have no immediate plans to off Dumbledore in this book… and I am quite attached to him overall. I shall be heartbroken if the day arrives; but I cannot promise that it shan't. You'll have to keep reading to find out!

On that enigmatic note… I hope you like Chapter 32!

SpringRoll: Thank you for reviewing! I'm sorry about that flashback… it broke my heart a bit to write it, to be honest. But I've been sitting on it for some time, and it felt best here. It is ironic that you ask for what you've asked for (not insolent, no worries) – because I'd literally just rung my sister as your review popped up and was chatting with her about how I wished, in retrospect, I hadn't given Sirius a love interest that I knew was already dead… because of course now I've grown attached. He does deserve to find love again… but as to whether we might get there or what his resolution will be, I shall have to stay silent for now. :)

Glad you liked chapters 29 and 30! I feel like this has been a long day… but we'll be speeding up the passage of time a bit this next instalment. It takes an emotional toll, this heady lot. I need a bit of a break! Still – happy to see you've enjoyed it. And I'm glad you caught the Ashwinder connection… a bit of an Easter Egg for those readers (like you!) who I know are as in love with all the canon treasures we've had since the close of Book Seven.

Ah, Albus. Truly, my favourite. I feel a bit badly for putting him through quite the emotional wringer these past few chapters as well. In some ways, he's had it as bad as Harry. But I think all those parallels… prophecies… uncertainties… they prey on his mind constantly. Watching him play chess-master, father-figure and mentor as the story moves deeper into darkness is something I'm quite looking forward to orchestrating. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Oh, and Ginny. Great question, because she pops by in an upcoming chapter for a bit. But yes… in canon POA, she gets one significant mention in the entirety of their time at Hogwarts (so obviously discounting the pre-term scenes at the inn): when she visits Harry briefly in the hospital wing with a card after his Quidditch fall. Otherwise, she's largely MIA this novel. Which I suppose makes sense, as she doesn't really hang around with the trio much in the early years… but she'll play a bit of a larger role in this version.

And thank you for the well wishes! Yes… we are quite close to 'Twins-day'. Just a bit over a month to go, if things are on schedule. I still think they'll arrive mid-March, but James seems to think the first week – either way, very very close now! I'll try not to interrupt writing too much when they finally arrive :)

Enjoy Chapter 32!

AECM: Thanks for your review! Happy to hear you enjoyed it. As to your query… before the end of this book, though I have also expounded a bit on the impact of this to similar queries from a couple of other readers below. :) Hope you like Chapter 32!

MoonshineMadame: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad the chapter came at an opportune moment :)! It's been such a long day today, for me as well, so I was well pleased to see your review too :)! I hope chemistry went well for you – quite admittedly not my favourite or best subject… probably why I became a barrister.

You are right about Harry's friends. I think that's true in 31, and also in this chapter… they are trying – they really are – but losing your family, suffering that level of betrayal… you just can't understand that level of grief and heartbreak if you haven't gone through it. I think Harry realises this, which is why he sort of gives up on forcing the issue… but it's a bit sad too. But going through the details of the night they died? Definitely harsh. Necessary, maybe… but quite harsh.

Mummy Minerva! So happy you liked it – I thought we were due. It's fun to turn the tables with her a bit, as I think Albus has had a few moments now of 'I didn't quite do the right thing, and I feel guilty'… but this is perhaps the first time Minerva feels direct responsibility for making what was probably the wrong choice. But she's quite right – it isn't ever too far, too much… until your response is not to be there any longer. And, of course, I just adore Minerva in full lion-tamer mode (when she bullies Harry and Albus into bed) – so it was fun to see her go from the under-hand position she started the chapter in to the one in charge.

Mmm… great questions on the Albus/Minerva conversation! Why does he not say anything about the real reasons he's up all night? For me, at least, the answer is complicated. Albus' greatest strengths and his greatest weaknesses are his abilities for love and his need to protect. He is altruistic. Not quite as altruistic as (at least in Albus' view) Harry becomes… but not far off either. So there is one explanation, that he simply can't bring himself to burden her with the truth… because he knows it is dangerous knowledge, because he does not want it to haunt her like it haunts him, and because Minerva is not an Occlumens. And then, I think, there is also a deep-seated fear and perhaps even a touch of shame about some of it: Grindelwald and the Hallows in particular. Albus does not want to admit the Ring/Stone has made him lose sleep, because doing so would be validating the severity of this obsession… this weakness… that cost him so severely the last time around. As of now, it is unclear whether even Minerva knows the extent of Albus' early relationship with Grindelwald and the Hallows. Would it be easier for him, if he unloaded all these burdens? Definitely. But that's the thing about Dumbledore, I suppose. He's good, and he's altruistic… but he is not known for bearing his soul – not even to those he loves the most. He suffers alone, to protect them and because some part of him feels that he should suffer it alone – because it is his burden, his weakness, and (in the Hallows/Grindelwald case particularly) his mistake.

Ok, that answer was way longer than I anticipated. Sorry!

The parenting talk – so true. A lot of times, in fanfiction and in regular novels or even in life, people make these grievous mistakes from which they are never given redemption. But for parents and children, I truly think that this is the key: you can work your way back from almost anything… if you are there to do so. Children – Harry, for certain, but really any child – need that, and crave that: someone to watch over them, advise them, catch them when they fall, and just simply someone to run to when they need a place to be safe. It would be true advice no matter their relationship with Harry, but it is particularly true now.

As to their relationship… Harry definitely has suspicions. Perhaps he does sort of know… but I think really it is that he hasn't thought it through, in that innocent sort of way children often don't. Certainly, Minerva in particular has tried not to flash it about or 'shock' him… but Albus is less concerned with such discretion and in the past few months even she has become a bit lax. There have been moments now where Harry is 'surprised' that Minerva is there so early or so late, or notes that she's there in casual dress or nightclothes… and of course they had that little Christmas kiss… but he hasn't really had overt confirmation. Don't worry, it is coming (and rather soon), now that Harry's a bit older and growing less naïve. And the resulting queries should answer everyone's questions about what, exactly, that relationship is.

Sirius. I almost couldn't write this, because it is so sad and I felt terrible for the bloke. However, as bitter as it is, the first draft of this segment was actually much, much more depressing. I substituted out the memory for a happier one, because I could not handle it. Great question about how one could keep his sanity – but I have one of my own. Is Sirius sane, still? Is he truly? I would posit not. I think Sirius is deeply, perhaps (on some level) permanently, affected by all that he's been through – the war, the deaths, the betrayal and Azkaban. I think we can see this, when we compare Sirius of the past and Sirius of the present. Is he truly the same person? Perhaps yes, but perhaps not. Not entirely. And no matter all of the other things and feelings that go through his mind, he is always drawn back to his current obsession to find and destroy Wormtail. Which goes, in part, to Albus' advice to Harry back in Godric's Hollow – there is a paradox in human emotion… we often want revenge, but vengeance and justice are not the same thing. And vengeance, while it might make us feel better in the immediate aftermath, doesn't give us remedy for the injustices that we have suffered. It does not heal us. Sirius won't regain his happiness or his friends and loved ones by getting his revenge either… and that is something he will have to grapple with before the end of this book.

You are the second reviewer this chapter to ask for a future love :). I share your desires to give him happiness… though I love Marley, she is gone. I cannot speak to the future, as it would give away plans for Sirius, but I promise to think about it.

And now, this answer is enormous, and I should probably stop as well. I do hope your fingers have recovered somewhat… and I hope you enjoy Chapter 32!

Laura1996: Thank you for reviewing! Glad you found the stories and that you are liking them so far. I try to keep updates fairly regular, so hopefully you won't find it too long between chapters in future. Although I am expecting twins next month, so no firm promises on precisely how often updates may be for the next few weeks.

The question you've asked is actually something another reader also queried this chapter. The short answer is, Harry is not specifically aware that they are together, no. He has had a few moments of suspicion (or perhaps, more like wonder/confusion) over their relationship… but really he's just sort of been naïve / blind to the possibility. (I talked about this a bit in the response above as well.) Will he have an 'aha!' moment on the subject in future? Yes. But I'm also not sure it really makes that much of a difference – in terms of his character and the implications for him in the story (at least, not at this point in the story). Okay, I know everyone is probably going mad – I can hear the protests already… but, truthfully, Albus and Minerva's relationship and the extent of that relationship makes a great deal of difference to them, of course. But to Harry? They are acting in a parent/mentor/protector role – each of them, both separately and together – regardless of whether they are romantically together. So, for Harry, I don't really think what he knows about their level of intimacy/relationship beyond the 'close confidants or partners' level has much of a direct impact. Right now.

Still, he will have his moment of realisation, I promise. I just don't want readers to become under the impression that this revelation will change much for Harry, on a deep level… because that closeness and protection he feels from them is already there, and it is not contingent on their romantic connection.

Alright, that was rather a long answer. But I hope it helps clarify the issue a bit. I hope you enjoy Chapter 32!

Psitomer: Thanks for the message! Hope everything goes well with school and such, and that you continue to enjoy the story even if you don't have time to review. Our family (almost ready to grow!) is going very well, thank you, and James and I wish the best to you and yours!

Enjoy Chapter 32!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thanks for your review! Haha, I don't know quite how to respond without spoilers galore. So I will say this… we aren't going to be following canon in the case of who lives and who dies and how those deaths necessarily occur – at least, not all the time. But there will be some deaths… and while some characters who do not survive JKR's series will manage to make it out of mine, there will also be characters who live through Deathly Hallows who will not live to see the conclusion of Child of Hogwarts. The story is basically mapped out in terms of character deaths and the reasons behind them… though of course things could always change if something occurs to me later on.

I'm sure that was not a reassuring enough response, but I don't want to spoil the story.

As to your other query, no – they are definitely not taking the Sirius situation well… which should set us up nicely for some upcoming drama! Enjoy Chapter 32!

mwinter1: Thanks for your review! I am glad you're enjoying the series, and hope the speediness of this update was satisfactory. Hope you like Chapter 32!