It was the first day of classes, and the small group of Gryffindor first years bustled down the corridor in a hurry. There were about seven or eight of them, though Albus would have been hard pressed to say who everyone was. They had only had one class together so far and it looked like they would be late getting to the next one.

"It's a bit harsh of Professor Wattlebon to let us out so late from Transfiguration," Amy puffed. Even as they jogged through the corridor she still hadn't managed to stop herself from making cheerful conversation. "I mean, is this some way of keeping students fit I don't know about? The dungeons are on the other side of the castle, how does she expect us to make it to Potions on time?"

"I heard in the common room that she had a falling out with Professor Slughorn over the summer," a dark skinned boy gasped. Kyle… Jordan, was it? Albus thought uncertainly. "Maybe she did it on purpose to mess with him?"

"I reckon it's a lover's quarrel," another boy said sagely. Keegan. Albus had met him last night.

One of the girls snorted, grabbing a stone railing for support as they went down a set of stairs. Dark haired. Albus had no idea who she was. "Right, and at breakfast you said that the house elves were conspiring to kill the Gryffindors."

Keegan looked at her, barely noticing the steps, "Were you seeing the same porridge I was?" he asked, "No food is supposed to look like that."

They reached the bottom of the stairway and ran along a corridor to the top of another set. They were definitely going to be late. "Actually," Rose panted, her face nearly as red as her hair, "The house elves use a special root only found in the Scottish highlands in some of their cooking… Blissbane… The porridge was supposed to sparkle."

At the back of the group a round-faced blonde boy - Butterbean, was it? Or Buttersby? - was lagging behind. "You made that up!"

"Did not!"

Amy leaned across, almost knocking heads with Albus as they ran. "House elves?" she muttered.

"Tell you in a minute," Albus wheezed. He was running out of breath, and a detailed explanation of house elf culture (and the complicated morale implications that came up in most conversations involving them) was not something he could do right now. Even if he wasn't in serious danger of collapsing, Albus wasn't in a mood to chat. He hadn't slept well last night, and putting on his brand new Gryffindor robes this morning did nothing to help his bad humour.

He felt like a fake. A liar. He knew damn well that he wasn't supposed to be here, going to classes with these people. He was amazed they didn't see it to. Any minute he expected them to realise he wasn't one of them. That they should notice that he wasn't a Gryffindor. That Slytherin green would suit him so much better. He would be wearing those colours this morning if he wasn't such a damn coward.

For some reason, Amy seemed to have noticed that something was wrong with him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, keeping her voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been tense all morning. You barely ate any breakfast and you've haven't said more than twenty words since last night."

A pair of older Ravenclaws were running the other way, also late for their class. One of them accidentally knocked shoulders with the blonde kid at the back, sending him spinning in a circle and nearly dropping him to the floor. Buttersbridge. That was it.

"I'm fine," Albus grunted as they all paused to wait for Buttersbridge to catch up. They were at the top of another flight of stairs. The bottom of this one was noticeably darker. It was windowless at the bottom, and flaming torches lit the corridor beyond. They were nearly there. About them the other Gryffindors stopped and used the brief pause to get some wind back. Rose was the worst off, from what Albus could see. She was leaning heavily against the railing, her face a deep beetroot colour. The poor girl was never much for sports.

"Is it…?" Amy continued, leaning one hand against the wall as she caught her breath. Her white blond hair was streaked across her face. Albus waited for the rest of the question, but nothing came.

Is it the fact that I'm not really supposed to be in Gryffindor? The fact that I couldn't stand the thought of disappointing everybody's expectations so much that I begged the sorting hat to put me in the house I least belong in? The fact that my cowardice is the only reason I'm in the house of the brave, the house where my father and brother and family belong, but not me? Is it any of that?

That was just the problem. He was in Gryffindor now, with his brother, and his sister, and his cousin. Where Teddy and his father had gone before him. Things were expected of him now. Would he have to be popular like his brother? Head Boy like Teddy? A hero like his father? A quidditch star like all three?

Albus Potter was a coward. What the hell could he hope to accomplish?

"It's nothing," he said, forcing a smile. "I'm just a little nervous about my first day here." It wasn't a complete lie. And he didn't want her asking after him all day. He was troubled by being here, sure, but that worry would still be there later, did he really need to deal with it now? After all it was his first day in Hogwarts. His great adventure. New friends, new people, a new life. He didn't have to ruin it by being a mopey git.

"Let's go," a ridiculously curly haired girl next to him said. Lysa, Albus thought, though he was in no way sure. Albus turned to see Buttersbridge hurrying up.

"C'mon," he said, eager to leave their brief conversation behind. And as Buttersbridge ran up they continued down the steps without waiting for a response. He didn't look back to see what Amy's face might have been.

The air felt cooler down here, and the chill was a welcome counter to the heat blazing over their bodies as they ran through the dimly lit hallways. It would be a wonder if they managed to make it to the room before someone collapsed. Albus didn't even know the way on his own, he just followed the group. A left, another left, a right, past the scary statue, another left.

As they turned the corner, Rose let out a sigh of relief. "This is it."

Up ahead was the classroom, and standing just outside it was -

Great. That was just what he needed right now.

Gathered outside the classroom door, were the Slytherin first years. His would-have-been housemates. Wearing their dark green robes and waiting to go in, they watched as the Gryffindors padded up to the door.

"Are we not going in?" Rose panted when they reached the door, hands on her knees.

A tall dark haired Slytherin boy looked at them with a bemused expression. "Professor Slughorn's late. The door's locked, so we figured we'd wait outside."

Albus heard a loud groan of annoyance behind him, and turned to see the Keegan boy fall back against the wall.

At the front of the group of Slytherins was a small boy. He was well dressed, and he had a sharp pointed face and bright blonde hair that gave no alternative to who he might be.

Scorpius Malfoy.

He was looking over the out of breath Gryffindors with an odd expression. It impossible to tell what he was thinking, but the sight of him made Albus feel even worse than before.

"So that's little Scorpius. Make sure you beat him in every test Rosie."

He had heard Uncle Ron say it to Rose as they boarded the train at Platform nine and three quarters. He was sure his uncle had been joking, but still... So this was the son of Draco Malfoy. The name had passed through his childhood stories a hundred times. School fights, rivalries, darker feuds when the war began and a conflicted resolution at the end of it. Albus would have been his classmate if he had chosen Slytherin. He would have been standing next to him in those green robes, watching the Gryffindors catching their breath. Standing opposite Amy. Opposite Rose.

"Wow," Scorpius said, looking at Rose, "You're really red."

From the sound of his voice it was clear he was mocking her. Rose looked shocked as her eyes flickered up, and her face reddened even further. She made a small noise and averted his gaze.

Something inside Albus snapped.

He pushed his way to the front of the group, where Scorpius was leering at Rose. So these were the Slytherins then. This was what he was supposed to be?

No. He was a Potter. Albus Potter. And there was one thing everyone knew about Potters.

"Oh really?" he said in mocking voice that sounded too loud to his own ears, "Well, you look like a skinny little canary, Malfoy. So how about you take your bony little chin and your piss yellow hair and bugger off?" He barely knew what he was saying. A rush of adrenalin surged through him, making it hard to think.

Behind him, he heard some of the Gryffindors laughing. One or two of the Slytherins gave a small chuckle as well. Scorpius however looked like he had been slapped. He stared at Albus as if he wasn't sure what or who he was looking at.

He recovered quickly though. He drew himself up to full height, which brought him up to eye level with Albus, pulling his robes about him regally.

"So you're Albus Potter," he said in a voice dripping with scorn, "You're just what I expected you to be. Pompous, arrogant, all puffed up with your own ego because of who your family is."

His words hit a nerve. What the hell did this Scorpius know about him? Who was he to judge Albus at first glance?

"That's right," Albus sneered, a nasty grin on his face, "I'm a Potter. And I'm proud of my family. I really don't think you can same thing, can you Malfoy?"

A small part of him felt terrible for doing it, ripping into this Scorpius's family shame in front of the rest of the class. But the rest of him, a bigger, louder, angrier part was enjoying this too much to stop now. Besides, Scorpius was the one who started it.

The boy's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You're riding the backs of your father and your brother to make yourself look like a big man, Potter," he spat. "But what've you done that's so great? What are you without your brother and your father to help you?"

Albus barely noticed his hand reaching into his pocket. His heart was hammering in his chest. "I can handle myself well enough Malfoy."

Scorpius' eyes widened, and Albus saw several Slytherin's start with surprise behind him. It took him a second to realise he had drawn his wand. In a flash Scorpius had drawn his own, and Albus heard the sounds of scrambling as the other students pulled away from them.

All at once he realised things might have escalated further than he had intended, and there didn't seem to be anywhere they could go but up. He felt trapped and surprisingly afraid. He really hadn't wanted things to resort to this but he couldn't see a way out. James had taught him a few hexes well enough, but what if they were caught duelling in the corridors? On their first day as well! Things were spiralling out of control, but he couldn't back down. It was difficult to think clearly.

Neither of them made a move to cast a hex. Both of them were waiting on the other. At least, that's what Albus was doing. He found that he had no intention of being the one to strike first, desperately looking for a way out of this.

After a moment, Scorpius' face split into a sneer of his own. "What's the matter Potter? Afraid to step up when it's just you on your own?"

Something might have shown on Albus face, because Scorpius smiled even wider. "I had you figured for a coward."

Coward?

"Just wanted to make sure we're not going to be using Unforgivables, Malfoy." Again he put emphasis on the surname, "I mean, it would be a shame for you to be sent to Azkaban after all the work your family put into buying themselves out."

All the excited chatter around them died down to a hush. Albus saw the knuckles on Scorpius's wand hand had gone white. He raised his wand so it was pointing directly at Albus's face. He heard people scrambling out of the way behind him as he raised his own wand up. He had no idea what to do.

Malfoy's voice was a hiss. "Say that again, Potter."

Well bollocks. It looked like he would be duelling in the corridors on his first day after all. Albus wondered if he would be expelled or just put in a month's detention…

"I said -"

"Sorry I'm late everyone!" Professor Slughorn came bounding down the corridor, looking extremely spry for a man of his age. "I was having a chat with Professor Longbottom about his Coughing Cabbages and only realised it was time for class when his students turned up at the door!" He walked past the silent students, smiling jovially. "No matter, though. What's a few minutes waiting out in the hallway to such young – Why, Mister Potter. Why is your wand out?"

Albus followed the elderly man's puzzled gaze and saw his wand was still in his hand. Looking around him he saw that Malfoy had slipped his back into his robes, and was now glaring daggers at Albus safely among his Slytherin housemates.

"Um…" Albus said. Feeling a bizarre rush of dismay and relief at the Potion Master's arrival. No duel then. His nerves were only just starting to settle, and he could still feel the blood rushing through him. That had been so close. Now there was just the problem of having no idea how to explain himself. "I…"

"Eager to start, eh?" the walrus looking man chuckled, "Just like your father. A gifted poitioneer if I've ever seen one. And I've seen more than a few I can tell you! Taught most of them right here in this castle! Just ask Wendell Pocock who taught her her first Bubblebreather Solution." Again he chuckled cheerfully. "Anyway you won't be needing your wands in my class boy, so put that away and let's all head in shall we?"

He bustled forward and in through the door. The Slytherins trailed in after him. Scorpius fixed Albus with a glare before following in. Albus returned it evenly. He wasn't going to back down from that blonde little tosser. Not now. Not ever.

He turned back to Rose, expecting a grateful smile for standing for up for her. But Rose was only staring at her feet, clutching her books close to her chest. Her face, if possible, was even redder than before as she hurried into the classroom.

The other Gryffindors, however, were babbling excitedly as they milled into the classroom, slapping him on the back and whispering congratulations and encouragements.

"My dad's gonna have a right laugh when he hears about this," Kyle chuckled, slapping Albus on the shoulder.

"Sit behind him when you get into the classroom," Keegan suggested under his breath as he slipped past, "That way you can hex him and he won't be able to do anything back without Slughorn seeing."

Albus smiled as they mulled past him, feeling good for the first time that day. All of a sudden he didn't feel like such a coward after all. He had protected Rose from Malfoy, and stood up to him when things had been looking like they might turn ugly. Was this what it felt like to be a Potter?

The last Gryffindor in the line passed through the door. It was the dark haired girl, who smiled prettily and said "Nice one Potter" making his cheeks heat up despite himself. Then Albus caught sight of Amy at the end of the line, and the elation he was feeling took a dive.

She wasn't smiling. Not laughing or looking encouraging like the rest, like he had expected her to. He realised then that he even had a vague hope that she might have been a little impressed with him.

But if she was impressed he didn't see any sign of it on her face. What he saw was something else. Something sad, perhaps a little scared, but above all, shocked. This is not the boy I met last night, her face said.

And what Albus saw of this new boy, reflected on her face, he did not like at all.

XXXXX

"Well… that was weird."

The Pensieve mist fell back to reveal Albus's bed and the figures around it. James leant back against his brother's bedroom wall as it faded into view. He didn't want to say anything. He thought this might already be a gloomy enough affair without him butting in.

"Weird?" Keegan turned to Scorpius, who was standing by Albus' headboard. "That was incredible!" The scruffy brown haired boy waved his hand at a stray wisp, scattering it into the air. His face, as usual, was lit up in an easy smile. James wasn't surprised to see the boy keeping up his cheerful nature. He tended to do that in dire situations, where others would rather brood. "Did you see the look on your face when Albus started laying into you? Hah! You sure know how to make a great first impression mate."

Scorpius looked down at him. Of brooding, James thought, here was a good example. In the dim evening light the sombre young Malfoy heir looked years older, though that may have been more to do with the last few months. Nothing aged a person's face like tragedy, James was discovering all too quickly.

"I think your experience that day was a little different from mine, Keegan," Scorpius said dryly. He frowned down at Albus' still form for a moment before looking back up. It seemed to James that he was having trouble looking at Albus for very long. "And I'm not really in a laughing mood if I'm being quite honest."

James followed his gaze to the person sitting next to Keegan. Amy had barely said a word since she arrived, and now she just sat there at the foot of the bed, staring miserably at nothing from under her pale blonde hair. Her fist was clutching a fistful of Albus' bed sheets. The moonlight spilling in through the window gave her fair skin and hair a distinctively ghostly look. The change from the chirpy little girl James had known was so drastic she might have been a completely different person.

An uncomfortable pause briefly settled over the room as both boys lapsed into silence, as if doing so would coax something out of their normally vocal friend. Before long it was mercifully broken by Keegan.

"Hah! Because you're usually such a big barrel of laughs, Scorpius?"

When Scorpius didn't reply Keegan ran his hands through his hair, messy enough to put even the Potter men to shame. "But that was amazing wasn't it, seeing the first time we met? What a trip. Merlin, we looked tiny back then, you could barely recognise us."

That much was understatement. Albus's three friends looked drastically different from the pint sized first years they had just watched scurry through the Hogwarts corridors.

Scorpius had always been a skinny boy, but now his bony features had filled out to give the boy a sharp, hawkish look. Instead of the wide eyed runt James remembered the boy standing next to Albus' bed looked like a true pureblood heir from the old stories; poised, regal, with an impassive face under a neatly trimmed head of blonde hair like some elegant bird of prey.

"Well a lot has changed since then," he said.

Keegan leant back and exhaled. "Isn't that true."

If the years had refined Scorpius's looks, they had given Keegan's features a much more down to earth treatment. The messy young kid had been replaced by a stocky, scruffy dressed boy. He had the beginnings of a beard along the bottom of his weathered looking face and eyes that would have better suited a man of fifty. He looked much older than he was, with an air of experience that did not suit his laughter filled features. But undoubtedly the biggest chance was the scar across his left temple, where a jagged cut scraped down centimetres from his eye. James still remembered the night he got it, and he still wondered how the boy was still alive.

"Stupid..."

As one their heads turned to Amy, who still hadn't looked up.

"What was that Ames?"

The girl didn't reply. It was heartbreaking to see her like this just after seeing her cheerful, ridiculously excitable first year self. Her hair, always a shade of blonde that edged onto silver, fell over her shoulders in a confused sprawl over her plain white t-shirt and jeans. She had been experimenting with colouring charms over the last year, James remembered, and the fading remnants of various hues blacks and whites still streaked across her hair in evidence of her abandoned efforts. She had always looked the sporty type, but weeks of poor sleep had given her a pale, haunted look that James was not used to. However, it was her face that truly set her apart from her younger self. She looked leaner and not as baby faced as she once had, but all in all her features hadn't changed all that much. But where her face had once been lit up with infectious laughter all James saw now was a miserable girl with a face aged beyond her fifteen years.

Both Keegan and Scorpius leaned forward, eager to get another reaction.

"Amy?" Scorpius asked hesitantly.

For a moment Amy looked like she might say something, but it was gone in a blink. She stood up calmly, as if nothing had happened, and turned and left the room without another word. The spot where her fist had been coiled on the bed was still scrunched with the indentations of her fingers.

Keegan fell back into his chair with a sigh and Scorpius frowned at nothing. James watched her go from his spot by the door. "Has she been like that since…?"

"Since just after the attack, yeah," Keegan said, "After she woke up in St. Mungo's we told her about Al…"

"And she hasn't been the same since," Scorpius finished, "At first we thought it might have been some lingering effects from her injuries but…" He looked at the doorway she had left through, then returned to his sullen silence.

They look defeated, James thought. They couldn't look any more different from the cheerful kids they had just watched running through the halls. Even Keegan's carefree nonchalance had a forced air to it, while Scorpius's stoic manner carried a look of barely concealed desperation. He seemed to have trouble looking directly at Albus lifeless body, never looking his way for more than a moment before averting his gaze.

It had only been a couple of months since the school term had ended, but they looked unsettlingly frayed by the events that had passed. Although, looking at his reflection in the darkness of the window, James supposed he wasn't much better off.

Before the attack he had been powerfully built, athletic and cocky. He had felt invincible. Now he looked like a haggard old cripple. He had been promised by the medi wizards at St. Mungo's that he wouldn't suffer any drastic permanent disfiguration from his wounded face, but he was still nervous to see the bandages come off next week. His eye was still nauseatingly bloodshot. And just what does 'drastic' account for anyway? A Roaschmark curse to the cheek wasn't really something you just walked off.

"Well there's nothing that can be done for now," James told them. How many times had he been told the same thing over the last few months? He had little doubt that Albus's friends hated hearing it as much as he had. "I'm gonna head downstairs, do you to want to…?"

"You go on ahead James, we'll be down in a bit," Keegan said, "It's been so long since we've been able to see Al, it feels wrong to leave him up here after just getting here."

Scorpius gave a silent nod of agreement. Fair enough. James knew just how close the whole group were, it was natural for them to want to spend some time alone with their friend. Merlin knew he had spent enough time brooding alone in this room. He turned to go. "Well don't spend the whole night up here. This place has seen its fair share of moping without you two adding to it… Besides," he said as he walked out the door, "There's a party on."

He left them and headed towards the living room, the sounds of the party fading up from below. It had been too long since James had heard the sound of laughter in this house, and Teddy's return was a welcome excuse to throw a family gathering. Maybe this was what they needed to bring some life back to what was all too quickly becoming a mausoleum.

He paused at the top of the stairs the do up a loose shoelace, when he heard Keegan's voice faintly from the other room.

"You should tell her mate."

There was a pause. Even from another room it felt heavy.

"Tell her what?" Scorpius' voice sounded tense. James hovered at the top of the steps, not wanting to eavesdrop, but suddenly he was shamefully curious.

"You know what. What you thought I would just let it go?"

"I think you're an idiot. And you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't try and play it off Scorpius. I saw how you were when you came back after the Christmas holiday with your family. And honestly, I understand. I didn't want to say anything to the others because I knew it wasn't my place to-"

"That's right; it's not your place."

"C'mon mate, don't be a dick about it. You can barely look at Al, and I can see that you can't stop looking at Ames. It's clear enough you want to say something to either of them but… Ah, but either way it doesn't matter anymore. What you knew then, what you know now, it's too late to change it. It doesn't matter. It's in the past. You need to get it out, it's killing you… You can't tell Al, not yet, but you can tell her."

Another pause. James was frozen on the spot. He really shouldn't be doing this. He really shouldn't.

"You think its something she really wants to hear right now?" Scorpius sounded much younger than moments ago, more like his own age.

"I never said you should do it for her," came Keegan's sigh, "It's eating you up mate. In your own way it's almost as bad as Amy."

"What would you know?" Scorpius hissed suddenly. His voice was laced with venom.

There was another pause before Keegan replied. If he was threatened by Scorpius' tone he didn't sound it. "I know enough mate… And… It's not your fault. You had no way of knowing..."

The silence now was an oppressive, weighty thing. Even over the sounds from downstairs, James ears were so keenly tuned in that he heard the snap of Scorpius' heels just in time to dart down the stairs and out of sight as the Slytherin boy stormed out the room.

What the hell was that all about?

XXXXX

Two days.

Two days and he still felt like someone had taken a beater's club to his entire body.

The sounds of talk and jovial laughter echoed through from the garden, and Harry winced as he straightened up from the fridge. He had two Butterbeers in one hand, two bottles of Clearwater Brew in the other.

"'You get the drinks Harry'," he grumbled to no one, "'Being up and active is the best thing you can do in your state.' God help me that woman will be the death of me."

It had only been two days since Cliffcoat, and Harry felt no better. He swore his body was sorer than it was yesterday. How was that fair?

He spun on the spot as Lucy raced past him and out the door. She was chased by a squealing Roxanne, both girls crying excitedly as they raced through the house. Over in the corner of the living room he could see Rose and Lily huddled together, talking in hushed whispers. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but perhaps a father was better off not knowing. He ambled through the open door and out into the garden.

A long table had been set up on the porch, covered with a chequered table cloth and lined with food. At a barbeque stand Arthur, Teddy and Percy stood with drinks in hand, watching the food and chatting amiably. Zipping around everyone on a miniature broom was Louis, while the rest of the younger children were sitting with Molly, Hermione, Ron and Percy's wife Audrey under a tall oak in the centre of the garden. They were stuffing themselves with burgers, sausages, chicken wings and an assortment of meats- all stacked with a seemingly endless array of side dishes prepared by Molly- and listening to Ron tell outrageously exaggerated stories about his school years.

He handed the bottles to Ginny as she walked past, earning a peck on the cheek for his troubles, before ambling over to the table to grab a chicken wing. Someone had set up the Wireless on the table and the greatest hits of The Floating Gnomes played softly in the warm night air.

He eased himself into a nearby chair for a moment while he looked out over everyone, enjoying the sight of his family around him. It was ridiculous how sore his legs still were. Just a few seconds while you eat this, he told himself, then up on your feet.

Over where the garden began to slope down towards the pond, Bill and George were taking turns to charm their feet with water repelling charms and walk out onto the water, cheered from the sidelines by a breathlessly laughing Ginny, Fleur and Angelina. From what Harry could make out there was some sort of bet on to see who could get the furthest out onto the water. Judging from each brother's soaking clothes and looks of concentration it was a close contest, despite the fact that neither of them could get more than two steps before their feet flew out from under them.

He turned his attention back to the group closest to him, as Fred and Hugo started arguing loudly over which one of them had come the closest to danger; no doubt inspired by just hearing Ron's story of the Chamber of Secrets (which somehow ended with his friend blowing the basilisk's brain out with a muggle shotgun after being swallowed whole).

"Now don't start thinking that it's a good thing to get yourself into danger," Molly told them reproachfully, her broad, good natured face looking stern. "You kids have had enough trouble in your lives to make an old woman weep. Merlin help me, you young ones seem to have danger come looking for you without even trying." She gestured to Hermione, who looked up from the corn on the cob she was eating, "I mean, just look at that whole episode with that awful Syrian man."

That quickly caught the kid's attention. They both stopped arguing as Hugo's red topped head snapped to his mother. "What happened with the Syrian man, mum?"

Hermione slowly finished her mouthful of corn, looking caught out. She brushed back a stray hair as she stalled for time, before smiling patiently down at her son, "Nothing exciting dear, Gran's just being fussy again."

Hugo looked back and forth between his mum and his grandmother, before he gave a pout, "You're lying. You never tell me when something interesting is happening."

Molly looked abashed, "Hugo!"

Ron patted his mother's arm placatingly. The side of his face was a mess of dark, painful looking bruises, and he still had a bandage wrapped around his head, "Relax mum. Hugo don't talk to your mother that way." Even so he turned to his wife, ignoring what Harry recognised as the look of warning that she was giving him. "But come on Hermione, the boy was there in the first place. What's the harm?"

Hermione frowned at him, "He was one year old Ron! That hardly counts. And besides, it's not exactly a story that's suitable for…kids…" She looked back at the assembled children. They were now hanging off her every word. Harry grinned to himself. Smart as she was, the woman should have known better than mention the possibility of a story that might not be suitable for kids.

She sighed heavily, setting aside her plate. "Well…one time there was a man who had been going through…" she thought for a second, "business dealings… with your father. And he thought he could get your father's… attention by having a friend of his – the Syrian wizard Gran mentioned - paying me a visit at home."

Hugo looked excitedly up, "And?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "And he was…very rude. So mummy got rid of him."

The boy looked disbelievingly back and forth between the adults. "That's it?"

Ron chuckled merrily, the Clearwater Brew bottle in his hand sloshing as he gestured, "Let me put it this way kids. Life lesson from Uncle Ron: Don't threaten a witch who got a hundred and twenty seven percent on her Transfiguration NEWTS when her babies are in the house."

The assembled kids looked back and forth to each other, puzzled, while Hermione cuffed Ron lightly over the head.

"How're you feeling old man?"

Harry looked up behind him and smiled. Standing over him was the grinning face of his godson. Teddy's hair was a bright electric blue tonight, and he wore muggle clothes of worn denim and leather.

"Like hell, thanks for asking," he said as Teddy took a seat next to him, "And knock it off with the 'old man' thing. I'm in recovery I should be treated with respect."

"I can see that," Teddy gave him a once over with his eyes, his metamorphagus face twisting into a grimace, "You look like you've been put through a meat grinder Harry."

And he wasn't exaggerating either. Harry had spent the day after Cliffcoat in his own private world of pain as his body recovered from the countless wounds he had taken. He still had to go into work, so he had spent most of his day at his desk, taking meetings, briefings, debriefings, reports, giving orders and filling paperwork while moving as little as possible. Ginny had cussed him out when she saw the state of him, but the gentle ministering that had followed almost made it worth it.

"Quite the gathering isn't it?" Teddy asked, indicating the family members and friends dotted around the garden, talking and laughing with plates full of steaming food. "Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"You sure that's not the Firewhisky?"

Teddy rubbed his belly, looking thoughtful. "That might have something to do with it, I'll admit."

"What can I say Teddy, you're a popular guy. I can definitely vouch that you're my favourite godson."

Teddy laughed. Ron and Hermione may have made Harry Rose's godfather, but Teddy knew he was Harry's only godson. "Thanks for that old man, but if I'm being honest I have a sneaking suspicion that this gathering wasn't entirely for my benefit."

Harry found himself nodding in agreement. The same thought had crossed his mind.

When he had found out just how many people would be turning up tonight, Harry couldn't help but think that the turn out was a little too generous to not have an ulterior motive. Not to take away from Teddy's popularity within the family, the boy had always been friendly and well liked, and was loved like any other child of the Weasely family. But for the entire family to make the effort to come out and visit, with Bill and Fleur from France and Charlie all the way from Vietnam... the boy had only been gone a few months!

No, Harry suspected Molly's hand in this.

He looked down the table at her as she chastised Ron for something and felt a warmth in him that had nothing to do with the alcohol. It was no secret that the family was taking Albus' situation hard, and it would be just like her to set something like this up to lift everyone's spirits. Besides, who else would be able to enforce such an ultimatum but the formidable Weasely matriarch?

At first Harry had thought it was bad taste to have what was essentially a party in his garden while his youngest son lie comatose in bed upstairs. But he had won over by Ginny's argument that dwelling in misery over something he couldn't change benefited no one. In fact, seeing how quiet and withdrawn Lucy had become in recent weeks made Harry think that the air of negativity around the house might actually be harming his family.

Besides, Lord Noctis was definitely right about one thing. There were dark days coming. And if Harry and his family were going to have any chance of weathering it they were going to have to take all the moments of joy they could get before it was too late.

"How are things going anyway?" Teddy pressed on, his face looking serious all of a sudden. Harry knew what he was asking about.

"Better," he admitted, "For a while there we were all pretty down. But I think we're getting there, bit by bit."

"And this Lord Noctis bloke? It's all the papers have been going on about."

"Noctis is a problem," Harry admitted with a sigh, "But not one I'm going to worry about tonight."

"What, not looking to talk shop tonight? I know what the papers have said about the Cliffcoat Incident but I wanted to-"

"The Cliffcoat Incident?" Harry laughed bitterly, "I want a copy of whatever paper you've been reading Teddy, cos the Daily Prophet's been calling it by a different name for the last few days."

Teddy looked like he had taken a bite out of something rotten, "What 'The Cliffcoat Disaster'? I take everything I read in the Prophet with a pinch of salt. I reckoned they were just playing things up again. Nothing sells papers these days like a good Ministry bashing."

Harry pressed the ball of his palm to his eye socket, "Ugh, if I'm being honest Skeeter's not far off the money with the whole thing this time."

"Was it really that bad?"

A rising Dark Lord operating in the UK had made a move against the government itself. But it wasn't an attack, not really. It was a feeler, a test to see how the Ministry would react when threatened. And how did they do? They flipped out and brought down the full force of their power at the first mention of Lord Noctis. And what was the result? Twenty seven Aurors and three muggles dead, with twice as many wounded; all without anything to show for it. Cliffcoat had been all but gutted in the attack. The Muggle Relations Department was in an uproar, and they weren't alone. With the Daily Prophet fanning the flames, the public – still reeling from the corruption scandal – were voicing their outrage all across the country. Ministry confidence was at its lowest in years. The whole Cliffcoat affair was turning into the biggest fiasco in the country since Minister Candlekeep turned out to be a particularly cunning Cluracan in disguise.

If Cliffcoat really was the first move in a new war, Noctis had won it hands down.

And that was all operating under the assumption that it wasn't simply a diversion to pull off some other move while the majority of the Auror division was distracted. Harry hadn't been able to find any evidence of any unusual movements going down while he was in Cliffcoat, but not finding something and it not being there were two very different things.

"It's not great," he admitted finally, "But I'm not worrying about it tonight. If you want a play-by-play ask Ron, I'm sure he'll be happy to talk you through it. But me, I'm going to enjoy myself while I can because the next few days are going to be tough." Plus if Harry took the time to stop and think about all those who had died under his orders he would be a wreck. Early in his career he had been able to think about little else. As the years went on he found the best way to cope was to look ahead.

"Tough how?"

"Inquiries. Reviews. Maybe a hearing if it goes real bad. It's all standard when something like this happens."

Teddy nodded. "I remember. Do you reckon there'll be any trouble this time?"

"It's a bit early to tell," Harry sighed, "But I think it'll be okay. Caiphus will probably come after me again but there's only so much the old goat can do."

For a moment Teddy looked like he might say something, but whatever he saw on Harry's face made him sigh instead. "Fair enough Harry. And hey, Merlin knows you've earned a little time off." He took another drink from his glass. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're alright." He gave Harry's shoulder a firm slap, "And don't worry about this Noctis ponce; you've got this in the bag."

The absurdity of the statement made Harry laugh despite himself, but even so he thanked his godson and conjured a glass for himself. Teddy pulled a bottle of Firewhisky out of a ludicrously small pocket from his inside jacket and poured him a measure. They both settled back as the night went on happily around them, chatting and enjoying the occasional bite of food forced onto them. Before long Harry had tears of laughter running down his face as Teddy related back stories from his work assignment in Sweden.

Teddy had taken a job as a liaison for Gringott's after working at the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures for a few years. His work took him all over the world, and had him working with both magical creatures and muggles (his two best subjects at Hogwarts) on a regular basis. It seemed that Teddy had grown to share Arthur's love of muggle culture, and apparently his work had allowed him plenty of opportunities to socialise outside of the job.

"…So there I am, trousers around my ankles, trying to explain away my hair going from black to bright red and my eyes going blue as a 'photosensitive genetic condition'. And all the while she's stark naked, throwing everything within reach at me and shouting something I don't understand but I'm pretty sure involved the words 'fairy demon'…"

Harry chortled, wiping tears from his glasses. "So what did you do?"

"Well, drunk as I was, I figured it'd be a much easier to just pack it in and get out there as soon as humanly possibly."

"So you bolted for the door."

"Now, that would have been a good idea. But, you see the window was right there…"

"You didn't…"

"Three floors. Broke my bloody ankle."

Harry doubled over with another fit of laughter, while Teddy squawked indignantly. "Hey it's funny now, but I had to limp through the streets of Stockholm topless, wandless, and drunk as hell with a busted ankle…"

Out the corner of his eye Harry caught James walking out the back door, scratching absently at the bandage on his face. Harry regarded him as he walked down to his uncles by the pond, still nodding to Teddy's story. He would need to talk to his son at some point.

Harry was not so stupid as to think James had been sitting idle the last few days like he was supposed to. He had checked the floo archive, like he checked all the wards and entry points to the house at the end of the day. He knew that someone had made a trip away from and back to the house the day of the Cliffcoat Incident. That alone wasn't enough reason to suspect his son of disobeying his orders to stay safe at home; but the fact that Arthur knew nothing about the warning broadcast that had gone out, coupled with James looking even more sheepish and guilty afterwards; Harry had no doubts that James was going out of his way to endanger himself when the family had already been through so much

Harry frowned down at his glass of Firewhisky. He could talk to his son tonight, but what would it accomplish? If the thought of such a confrontation alone was enough to put such of a dampener on Harry's mood, then a full-fledged argument would effectively kill the party stone dead.

He would need to talk to his son, but not tonight.

Beside him, Teddy gave a yelp as he was suddenly yanked onto his feet. Harry was startled until he saw Victoire's dazzling smile as she pulled Teddy across the garden to dance to The Floating Gnomes' "A Witch In My Closet". There was a explosion of brilliant purple overhead as Arthur began letting off muggle fireworks (a gift from Charlie's time in Vietnam), and the night sky came alive with bursts of colour. All around him, Harry heard laughter and music and couldn't help but smile. The Potter house felt alive for the first time in far too long.

This is what he was fighting for. This was home.

And if their was a hint of anxiety in the laughter, a suggestion of self distraction in the expanding group of dancing bodies across the garden, then Harry chose to overlook it.

Dark days were coming. There was no doubting that.

But tonight, Harry was going to enjoy himself.

XXXXX

Elias Wednesday had never been much of a heavy sleeper, but after the disaster of the op in Alaska he started waking up at the slightest disturbance. His nerves were shot, but he could be up and ready at a moments notice. That was why he was already wide awake by the time they made it into his living room.

His eyes had snapped open when he heard the lock on the door go. It only took him a handful of seconds to set up a quick Effinigo charm to put a duplicate image of himself in his bed, place a Disillusionment charm on himself and creep behind his bedroom door, where he waited…

They shouldn't prove to be too much trouble, probably some Muggle thugs looking to rob the old recluse of the neighbourhood. His house was certainly big enough; it wasn't the first time it had attracted unwanted attention from thieves and junkies trying to make a quick few quid. Or maybe they were some overconfident teenagers with more curiosity than sense. Either way, they clearly didn't realise who they were fucking with, they weren't even bothering to keep silent.

"…thought you said you knew where the bedroom was." A voice said, muffled through the walls.

"I do," a second voice, deeper than the first, hissed, "But its pitch bloody black in here in case you hadn't noticed. If we could just-"

"No light."

"But-"

"No light." No room for argument. That must be the one in charge.

"Fine, fine… Jesus, what crawled up your arse?"

"I'm sticking to the job. Have you forgotten why we're here?"

"Uh huh…" the second, deeper voice sounded bored.

From the sounds of it they had reached the pantry, they were getting closer. Job, the first man had said. What job?

"But I'm so sorry that I want to do this properly," In Charge continued, "It was stupid of me to think we should do this by the book. We've had enough screw ups already."

"What screw ups?"

There was a pause. Elias could hear his own heart racing.

"Oooh, that's it," Deep Voice continued after In Charge didn't respond. "You're still sore that you weren't picked to go first."

In Charge made a sound of disgust. The arrogance of these two, to think they could make this much noise! "It's nothing as juvenile as who went first... But yes, I still think I should have been the one to lead the attack, instead of getting stuck bumbling around in the dark on yet another midnight run. And with you of all people."

"Oh lucky you... Anyway, so you weren't picked, let it go."

"And I was right, it turned out," In Charge continued, "Getting knocked to the floor, nearly getting captured, it's disgraceful. You know I would have done a much better job than-"

"Maybe you would have, maybe you wouldn't… But ease up will you?" Deep Voice interrupted, "You sound like a miserable old woman. We weren't there; we don't know how it went down at the time."

Elias tightened his grip on his wand. He didn't understand what these two punks were talking about, but it didn't really matter. He was eager to get started, his blood was already rising.

Reckless, the review board had told him. A danger to his teammates. Mental trauma, they had diagnosed. From that clusterfuck in Alaska - as if they had the slightest beginnings of a clue as to what they were talking about! Unfit for duty. The disgrace, the shame of it! Thank you for your years of dedicated service. A generous severance package has been arranged…

After everything he had given this country, he was thrown out like another piece of trash. Swept away and out of sight to be forgotten like a shameful little secret. Anger burned inside him at the unfairness of it all. With each passing day he was becoming more and more the bitter old man his idiot Muggle neighbours thought him to be. The acidic, impotent resentment built up day after day as he wasted away. He had drunk himself to sleep most nights, and tonight was no different. But his nerves were still sharp, he was ready, hell he was looking forward to this!

The two voices continued, heedless of the wrath that waited for them.

"Since when were you the voice of reason?" In Charge asked.

"I'm just saying, it's not like we didn't get what we wanted. And either way, you know that tangle was just a little extra, coming out on top wasn't vital for the mission…"

They were close now. Very close.

"Besides, you really think you could go toe to toe with Harry freaking Potter?"

His heart stopped.

Harry Potter.

These two were wizards, not muggles! Did they know who he was? Were they here to take him out? He had no shortage of enemies after a career like his.

No, it was more than that. They were talking about an attack… An attack… The papers been going on about it…

Cliffcoat!

It all clicked together.

Elias' threat assessment of his two intruders skyrocketed.

The first voice didn't respond for a moment, and Elias lost a sense of where they were. Then all of a sudden he heard them mutter, right on the other side of the door. Inches away. "This is it."

The door opened silently as two dark outlines entered the room. They were cloaked and hooded, and made no sound as they spread out across the carpet. They were moving towards his bed. Even in the darkness his eyes could make out the silhouettes of wands in their hands.

It was insulting. If they had an idea of who he was, they should know better than to be so overconfident. Strutting into his home bold as brass. He might not have been as young as he used to, but he was definitely not someone to be underestimated like this. He would make them regret that, no matter who they might be.

He stepped forward, bringing his wand to bear. No time for hesitation, no time for mercy.

He had to be sure.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He had always been quick, but Elias had never cast two spells so fast in his life. His hate burst desperately out of him in flashes of cold pale green. The second flash of green erupted from his wand before the first had even struck home. The first figure was caught in the back, the second in the side as he turned.

They both dropped to the floor. They were both stone dead before they even had time to react.

Silence fell.

Elias swallowed a gasp of air and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead. He was panting heavily despite only casting two spells. His nerves felt like they were on fire he was so amped up. He took a careful step forward, almost too nervous to move. He couldn't be too careful. He had to be sure. If these men worked for the new Dark Lord then he couldn't afford to-

"The Killing Curse, Mr. Wednesday?"

He spun around, wand snapping up, but it was already too late. He felt his body freeze up as the Body-Bind Hex hit him.

"And right off the bat? You sure don't mess around."

There they were, standing in the doorway. The two figures.

Impossible! He had watched them enter the room. He had killed them with his own wand! How had they…?

"Look at his face," the one at the back said. Deep Voice. "He looks so confused! Aw bless, looks like you really got him."

They both stepped into the room, and In Charge waved his wand at Elias. He was slightly taller than the other one, but with their hooded cloaks he couldn't make out any other differences. Elias felt himself revolve on the spot to face where he had seen the two men fall moments before.

There was nothing there. Just the empty room. The bodies were gone.

He realised they had left him enough movement to speak.

"But… I saw you…" he gasped, "I saw you…"

"I'm afraid that was a lie, Mr. Wednesday," In Charge said, stepping into view and standing right where his dead double had been moments before. "My apologies. A little more complex than your…" He leaned over the bed to examine the still form of Elias's own illusion, "…Effinigo, looks like… but the basic principles are the same."

"You knew?" he understood with a wave of horrible clarity, "You knew I would be awake?"

"Doesn't sleep well. Extremely hostile to intruders. Expect Mr. Elias Wednesday to be up and active when you arrive." Deep Voice walked into view and sat on the bed, counting off one hand as he spoke. His tone was mocking. "Looks like our info was dead on."

Elias was still numb with disbelief, "What are you talking about? Whose info?"

In Charge leaned close. "I think you know whose."

He stared up into the darkness of that hood and saw nothing. The empty blackness stared back at him, filling his vision. For the first time in over a year, Elias Wednesday felt fear.

"Lord Noctis," he breathed.

The darkness of the hood retreated as the man straightened up. "That's right. We were sent here to seek you out specifically. Our Lord sent us to find you."

That fear, like a poison, was creeping through his veins, paralysing him just as well as any Body-Bind hex. Alaska all over again, but this time he couldn't get away. It would be him this time, his screams in the dark…

"Why?" he managed to stammer out, his voice sounding as weak as he felt.

This time, Deep Voice leaned forward, "We have an offer for you, Mr. Wednesday," he said with an amused tone that did nothing to settle his nerves. "And I have an inkling that you're gonna like it."

XXXXX

The Potter house was silent. Shadows bathed each room, washing over the furniture and walls in a curtain of pitch darkness. The sky outside was clear and still, the jet black sky blazoned with a piercingly pale moon. The Potters lay in bed.

And Harry Potter slept.

Most of the guests had left hours before, and Teddy, despite Harry's protests, had returned to his own flat in London. Ginny had stayed up for a while talking with Amy long after Lily and James had gone to bed. It wasn't until the hallway clock had grumpily informed them that a girl Amy's age shouldn't be up so late and the girl had finally floo'd home. Harry had been cleaning the night's mess before deciding to finish up in the morning as he and Ginny retired to bed. The halls and stairs of their house stood vigil in the darkness, undisturbed and unaware. The doors secure and shut, the Potter house rested in the night.

And Harry Potter slept.

The moon and stars hung in the night sky, clear and brilliant. The night air was cold and brittle, but no wind stirred. For the moment, it seemed as if the entire world had fallen still, like the entire world slept. The earth turned, slow and unnoticed, and in their beds the Potters knew nothing, cared for nothing. They slept in their beds and forgot the world around them. Up in his wide bed, holding his wife, Harry Potter slept.

And Harry Potter dreamed.

XXXXX

He had to find it. He clambered over roots and fallen branches, gnarled and twisted with age. His hands supported him, gripping hanging limbs and climbing up and over obstructions as he made his way through the thick trees. Moss and lichen grew over everything, making his way slippery and unsure. The branches overhead obscured the sky, so the diminished light made it hard to see where he was going.

But he had to find it. That he knew. Even if he did not know what it was.

He looked under logs and branches and overturned stones. But he could not find it. Worry gnawed at his gut like a living thing, and his heart quickened inside his chest. It was important. So important. But he couldn't remember why. He had seen things, terrible things, and he needed answers. He needed to know what to do next, after his search came to an end and objective and reason crumbled away.

His wandering hands found a creaking tree trunk in his path. It ached with the weight of years, black with the ravages of time and falling apart. He gripped at it with both hands and heaved it out of his way. The ground fell away from it like a torn scab, and the muck and dirt crumbled away as it toppled. Grave dirt, he was close.

His feet scrambled over wet leaves and dead things that he did not want to know. It was here, he knew, it was close. This was not where he left it. He was sure. Or he could have been, it was so hard to tell. Time had twisted the landscape, making it a stranger that did not recognise him. He did not know the way as he used to, and it had been many many years since he had walked this place. The years had come and gone to mark and change this place as they had done him, and they were both not the same as they had been all those years ago.

He rounded a boulder veined with black ore and green mould and came upon the place where it was. He did not see it, but he knew it was there. Everything was exactly how it had been all those years ago. The woods spread out in a clearing, leaving the sky open overhead like a wound. A single pale moon shone with no stars; nothing to protect him from the endless blackness of the terrible sky.

Always, they had said back then. But he did not know what that meant. He had left it here, and saw them for the last time. It had given him hope and strength when he needed it most, and he had left it behind when he walked on. It was the right thing to do then, and it was still here now that he needed it once again.

He saw it there, in the dirt and the leaves. It was covered and unseen, stomped into the muck and forgotten, but he saw it anyway. It shone it the moonlight, reflecting the pale light. It seemed to wink like a living thing as he walked to it. It has been here all these years, and now he had come back to find it again. He reached out to touch it. Here were the answers he needed. Maybe he would hear them again. See them again, one more time. Always, they had said. Though he did not know now what that meant.

He reached out and felt his hand close around it, cold, smooth. It was his again, as it always was. Now the way was open for him. The woods parted. The twisted black branches coiling away from his gaze. Answers, secrets, they were his now. And so were the voices, the faces. They were here again, they had never left.

Always, they had said.

But no, that was not his. That was not how this happened. This was not right. A line from a story never written. A whisper stolen from air and darkness and shadow.

He made his choice then, and he remembered now why he had done it. He still had one in his possession, the one that had been his from the beginning. It was enough. The other two were not for keeping, Harry remembered almost too late. But remembered he did, and so he turned away. He moved on. He grasped the firm handle of the door that filled his vision and pulled and walked through. He left the twisted woods behind and…

He walked the corridors of his house, passing pale lamps and dim candles. The darkness was not banished by their light, only thickened and given volume.

Each time he passed through he feared he would forget himself in the darkness, and wander forever these hallways not knowing who he was or what he was here to do. His feet tapped against the soft wood, and he kept to his path. He entered the kitchen and saw Ginny, sitting at the kitchen table in her bathrobe. The light coming through the window did not dispel the night, it only carved out a pale golden piece of solid space for him to see her. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Ginny? Where are the children?"

Her face was covered by her thick red hair, so he could not tell what she was looking at. "Ginny? Where are they? I need to find them."

The voice that came from under the hair was throaty and hoarse, "But you already found them," she told him, "You found them and you found them and you found them."

Harry pulled his hand away like it had been burned. He took a step back, fear creeping through his veins. She didn't know what she was saying. She couldn't know what she was saying.

"You found them and found them and found them…"

He took another step. This wasn't his wife. Whatever this was, it was something mad and something terrible.

"And found them and found them and found them…"

Her face turned up to him and the dark hairs fell away to reveal two dark endless pits instead of eyes. Empty wells that he could fall into and never see the light of day again.

"But you didn't bring them BACK!"

Her face was a shrieking scar, horrible to look upon, and Harry felt hot tears run down his cheeks as he stepped back. Terror gripped him in an iron fist. This was not his wife, his wife was waiting for him elsewhere with the sun on her face and their kids under her arms. He had to get away. He had to escape.

He turned and walked to the front door. He had to get out. He wanted to run, to scream and tear out of the doorway as fast as he could.

But he could not run, if he ran she would fall upon him, and tear him screaming apart. All this he knew with absolute clarity, so he walked to the door with a desperate calm, each step taking a lifetime, until he pulled the handle and was away…

The desert sand shifted under his feet, sinking and falling and rising again so he had to keep moving in order to keep his balance. The sand was a deep burnt orange, and the night sky above was a fathomless midnight blue. A thousand thousand stars blazed overhead, beautiful to look upon. They cascaded over and into each other with the light and majesty of far away constellations and nebula, blinking and shining like jewels.

On all sides the desert stretched away endlessly, but Harry was not afraid. Here and there torches were staked into the ground, each as tall as a man, and each burned with a warm glow. Embers trailed off them and drifted off into the night, winking fire as they went.

Harry walked from torch to torch, feeling the warmth of the fire between the cool kiss of the darkness between them. They were spaced unevenly, sometimes a minute between them, sometimes up to five. But they formed a rough line in the sand, he saw as he walked, a way for him to follow.

His head felt clearer with each step he took, as he crossed over dunes and shifting slopes. He had been so afraid before, and so lost before that, but now he knew that he was on the right path. The torches lit the way, he knew, to the answer to all things. The source of it all, the final truth of the world and worlds beyond. Of all and everything.

But he could not turn around, he also knew. He knew it with a lucidity he had never known before.

Because there was something there. Something was behind him. He knew it with a flattening, irrefutable clarity.

It had found him in this place. Or it had always been there, all his days and he had never noticed. Or perhaps he had created it himself. He didn't know anymore, if he ever did. But he could not turn around. To turn around was to fall forever.

This was its place, and he did not want to disturb it with his presence.

He climbed another dune bathed in shadow towards a torch planted at the crest, lit with a warm orange halo in the darkness. When he reached the top he gazed out over the desert and saw the trail of torches dotted here and there across the boundless sea of sand, stretching away to infinity. He stood there a moment, feeling his lungs take in the warm air. It was very beautiful here, and very peaceful. But he wanted to reach the end. To know the truth of everything, the answer of creation. He wanted it with an ache that came from deep within his bones and his soul.

Harry Potter stood on that high dune in the torchlight and wondered just how much further it was to go.

It came to him then, the one that was following him. Its voice sent a sudden chill of recognition through him.

"Much further, Harry… much, much further. But you have seen enough tonight".

And Harry Potter woke.

And forgot again.

A/N:

Well that's another chapter down. Another long wait I know but I have good excuses. One is starting a new job the other is placing a bet with a friend of mine that I couldn't write a screenplay draft in a month. The stakes were paying for an entire night of drinking, so took some time away to make sure I didn't lose that one.

Anyhoo, lots of stuff happening in this chapter. Finally seen what Albus' group is like in the present, which is to say completely different from the group we'll see in his memories. Quite a bit of backstory there, so can't wait to get into it all.

And seen a bit more of what Lord Noctis's 'disciples' are up to. Got that scene done in one go without stopping, which is rare for me and one of the reasons I like that scene as much as I do.

And Harry's dream. Now this is the first glimpse of what will slowly become a larger part of the story (the clue is in the title...) so I'm eager to see what people make of it. I purposefully wrote it to be different from the rest of the story, trying to put across the surreal nature of dreams. I also reread Sandman for the fiftieth time for inspiration, so blame Mr. Gaiman if you didn't like it. I'm sure he won't mind.

So yeah, big stuff coming. I've got lots of later stuff written out already and it's shameful how eager I am to put it out. So get excited people, it's gonna be awesome!

And thanks for reading. Reviews and favourites put a big, stupid smile on my face for the rest of the day.