Remembrance and Renewal by Avatar Arkmage and Nigel Tatsuya
Chapter Thirty-Five Course: Snape Manor
"I like that theory a whole lot, because I don't think people just appear in the world like one second they aren't here, and the next second they are. I think people have to be borned because everybody needs parents to take care of them until they know how to take care of themselves." Harry picked up the towel and handed it back to Severus, "How else would the first witches and wizards know how to bathe, find food, or even how to make babies if they themselves apparated into the world from nothing? You'd think if the first magical folks were made that way, they'd try to make their own babies appear out of thin air too, wouldn't they? And their children, and their children after that would also make their babies just appear like that. "
Severus raised his brows at that. Magical people did in fact reproduce the same way that muggle people did.
"I know you and mum didn't make me just apparate into the world!" Harry stated, watching with some amusement as Severus's cheeks coloured slightly. "Even the first witches and wizards needed parents to love them, and show them how to do things to survive, so they had to be borned through muggle parents." Harry wondered why Severus had stopped drying him, so he coaxed his father along by leaning into the towel in his hands. "So are there any other stories of how the first magical people appeared on the Earth?"
"There are many legends that state that the first magical people came through magical or divine means, but there also exist theories which seem more plausible." Severus gently turned Harry and proceeded to dry his back, "some believe that all humans might possess the potential for using magic. But the ability at birth for it is greater in some people than for others."
"Really? Is that like how all people can be taught to play football or quidditch, but only a few are really good at it in the beginning, and some are more talented at it than others?"
Severus wrapped Harry in the towel and lifted him onto the counter. He applied a non-magical healing salve to Harry's cuts before bandaging them. Not wanting Harry's hair to appear so unruly, Severus wiped the excess moisture from it then combed it out using a fixative, which left Harry's hair looking quite sleek and somewhat greasy. Thankfully, it did not leave Harry's hair particularly greasy to the touch.
When Harry noted Severus's silence, he initially began to worry that he had somehow offended his sire. He then realized that Severus only might have not understood what football was, and briefly explained the game to his father before urging him to continue.
"It is believed that magical people might only have a better ability to channel the same powers that all humans have." Severus helped Harry don a fresh, shrunken nightshirt. After one more, nearly fruitless attempt at combing down errant strands of Harry's unruly hair, he helped the youth to the floor.
"Is that why there are books to help squibs along?" Harry inquired, thinking about the time he had seen Argus Filch's self help books. "Because if they work hard enough at it they can learn to do magic?"
"Many squibs never learn to perform much more than the simplest of spells," Severus sighed, thinking of how hard Argus Filch had tried over the years. The only real abilities the old caretaker had gained, was the seemingly supernatural ability to detect students out in the halls after hours, no matter how hard those students tried to elude him. "But yes, with enough effort and perseverance, all humans can learn to better channel their innate energies. Even magnify those energies greatly in some instances. Many might never be able to perform complex spells, but they can often manage less complicated ones."
"Must be why some muggles can be psychics, but still are not thought of as full magical people, even though they must know how to use a little magic." Harry speculated, holding on to the hem of Severus's nightshirt as they both walked out of the washroom. "Do you know that muggle police use psychics to find people who got killed or who went missing? People who seem a lot like Professor Trelawny, but do not tell people that they are doomed."
At Severus' aghast expression, Harry continued, not letting go of his father's clothes as he followed the man into the living area. "It's true, and often those police psychics can predict where the missing people are, better than Professor Trelawny can predict what the future is!"
Severus' face remained primarily neutral, but Harry thought he saw a microgesture of amusement grace his sire's sallow features, as the man sat in the black leather lounge chair in front of the fireplace. Harry knew he should probably sit on the sofa, but longed for warmth and closeness, so he climbed onto the chair as well and curled up in his father's lap. To his absolute delight, Severus did not order him onto the sofa or otherwise push him away. "Are there any other ways that they say the first magical people came about?"
"Heredity is another theory. It is believed that magical ability evolved in much the same way as any other trait."
"Like the colour of a person's eyes?"
"Yes, along with other abilities a parent might pass on to their child." Severus stated, looking closely at Harry for the first time; trying to see past the charms for even a ghost of a trait he may have passed down to his own son. "Among all the babies, some had the ability to run faster, some could solve complex problems better than others, some possessed great strength and endurance, some had the ability to lead others, and some were born with magical abilities. When those children grew up, some of them reproduced with others who had similar abilities, thereby increasing the chances of passing the trait onto their children."
Harry rested his head on his father's chest. He loved listening to that very heart that so many people thought Severus never possessed. "Like how athletic parents have athletic kids? So that's how the first magical parents had magical kids, and their kids had more magical kids?"
"Yes, the likelihood that their offspring would have the magical trait is greater when both parents posses it." Severus stated, chafing somewhat from the contact, but not finding it unbearable. "But as with all traits, some of the offspring may have traits more similar to one of their parents, while a few of the offspring are born without the powers either parent."
"The squibs." Harry concluded, his young brain struggling to keep pace with his father's and often moving so fast that it sometimes surpassed it. "Kinda like how parents who have one hair colour might make a kid that has hair a different colour, like your hair was different from grandmum and how my hair is more like yours and not like my mum's. And the squibs are like a baby who got different hair from both parents?"
"I believe so." Severus went silent. He had black hair, but his mother had fiery coal-red hair. Did he acquire his own black hair from his biological father?
"So those first magical people might have been the ancestors of the old Wizarding families?" Harry asked.
"That is possible."
"I wonder if the Malfoys realize that their great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandparents were probably born from muggle parents?" Harry said, immensely enjoying the closeness with his sire.
Severus exhaled in response. His father, the one who raised him, had once been a Malfoy. Lucien's resemblance to Lucius Malfoy, left little question to his lineage. To the Elder Snape's credit, for all his ill-temper, and parenting with a very heavy hand, he had never taught Severus to hate the muggles. He hadn't taught Severus to like them as Arthur Weasley probably taught his children to, but at least he never encouraged Severus to harass them or hate them without reason.
Might the Malfoys have disowned Lucien over something as trivial as his indifference toward muggles? No, it had to have been more than that. Although it was well known in the wizarding community that Lucius Malfoy, along with the rest of the Malfoy clan, detested muggles and especially muggle born witches and wizards, it was something that Lucien never demonstrated. If he did share that prejudice, how could he have loved Mervidith Rogue, some one from a less wealthy wizarding family who were tolerant enough of muggles to allow their only daughter Mervidith to have muggle friends in her youth?
Resting his head on the back of his chair, Severus remembered his mother telling him of the horrible events surrounding his conception. She had been at a sleepover at a muggle friend's house when a group of pure-blooded vigilantes attacked. Mervidith had tried to protect the otherwise defenceless muggles. The sight of a pureblooded witch among the muggles must have enraged the attackers and they...
Severus could not bring himself to remember the rest of what his mother had told him of that night... Although he had later read news reports from the archives, and had even bribed information from the looser tongued members at the Ministry's law enforcement division, he could hardly think on those matters, even today. No doubt, justice had been denied Mervidith Rogue in part because she had been at a muggle's house at the time. Some of the people interviewed in the news articles had even blamed her for her own attack, saying "well what was she doing there anyway?"
And now, Severus Snape carried the blood of one of the pureblooded assailants. Severus Snape had deduced who his real father might have been, but could not bear to think of the prominent man or mention his name, even in the sanctuary of his thoughts.
Harry also bore the attacker's blood. What made Severus extremely uneasy was the fact that Harry was bound to seek answers. Be it in his de-aged state, or after his return to his former state, the boy was sure to ask about his true lineage. Severus had no intention of sharing what he knew in this matter, but Harry was Harry. Surely if Severus didn't talk, Harry would find some one who would.
Damn the boy for that!
Severus looked down at little Harry, wondering why he hadn't bombarded him with another barrage of his infernal questions in the last few moments. Surely a long enough silence would have prompted the boy to spur his father onward, even at the risk of infuriating the volatile man.
A soft snore was not the sound Severus had expected. Harry had fallen asleep.
The boy slept with his ear pressed directly over Severus' heart, and his tiny arms draped over his father's body. His breathing was the very embodiment of peace, and his facial expression... nothing short of angelic.
Enfolding Harry securely in his arms, Severus carefully eased out of the chair and carried his child to the bedchambers. He gingerly placed Harry on the bed, fully intending to work on a few more potions before retiring himself.
"No!" Harry began whimpering and reaching for Severus the moment the man began to move away. "Please! I don't want you leave! I'll have to go back in my cupboard if you go away!" When he did manage to reach the collar of Severus' nightshirt, he held on tightly, his whimpering growing gradually louder. The boy's green eyes were wide with fear. "I'll be good, father! I'll be good! Please don't leave me!"
Severus was thoroughly gobsmacked. He wondered what, if anything, he had done to bring this strange behaviour about. Why was Harry panicking? Where did the kid think Severus was going? This was his quarters after all.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, I'll do anything you say. You don't even have to love me! Just please don't leave me again!" Harry's vocalisations threatened to erupt into another bout of full blown wailing, a sound that Severus found to be contagious. Every time Harry engaged in that infernal squalling, Severus found that it almost brought tears to his own eyes as well. It was the most annoying cacophony a human voice could articulate.
"I do not intend to 'leave you.'" Severus explained. "I have other matters to attend to. Surely, you are not so bold as to tell me what I may or may not do..." he suddenly realized that it would have made little sense for him to continue. Harry's bright green eyes were indeed focussed on him, but the boy did not seem to be truly seeing him. Harry had in all likelihood awakened in the middle of a nightmare.
In resignation, Severus lay next to Harry, hoping the boy would make haste and fall back to sleep. He did not wish to indulge the boy by any means, but found that the boy's pleas were virtually impossible to ignore.
When Harry eventually fell asleep once more with Severus' collar still clutched firmly in his tiny hands, Severus closed his eyes too. As headstrong, annoying, insidious and clingy as Harry could be, Severus had to admit to himself that it wasn't unbearable. Although being told that he was loved had unnerved him in the beginning, and still made him uncomfortable even now, it also made him feel a sense of contentment he had not known in many years. In his de-aged state, Harry was far less likely to refrain from saying what he really thought, good or bad. That left no shadow of a doubt that Severus was indeed loved.
And Severus came into the realisation that he reciprocated at least some of that love. How could he not love the little green-eyed angel, now flesh, after all?
Harry awakened feeling so comfortable, that he wondered if he were still in the midst of an enjoyable dream. Unlike the chills he felt during most of the year, and the stifling heat he endured during the Summers in his cupboard, Harry felt warm and placid. He shook himself fully awake and grinned hugely at the fact that he was no longer on his lumpy mattress in the Dursley's cupboard, but in a warm bed next to his beloved father.
As the last remnants of sleep faded from his consciousness, Harry vaguely remembered dreaming that he and Severus were running toward a train station, only to have it explode right before their eyes. The dream shifted, and soon Harry found himself sitting in front of the fireplace, seeing the still smoking ruins of the train station on the front page of the Daily Prophet. In his dream, seeing the wreckage enraged him so, that he tore the newspaper in two.
Although Harry despised senseless, violent deaths like these, he could not understand why he was angry, rather than saddened. Why had he dreamed that particular dream in the first place?
Upon awakening fully, Harry remembered that he and Cho would have to do detentions as a punishment for their reckless stunts on Harry's Firebolt. The manoeuvres themselves had been colossal fun for both of them, but the tonguelashings they received thereafter from Severus, had reduced both of them to tears.
Harry could hardly believe the time the grandfather clock displayed, and wanted to accuse it of fibbing. It read 9:30 in the morning! Harry nearly asked the clock if the time was correct, but upon seeing his father's features tranquil in deep slumber, Harry remained silent.
Harry smiled once more and snuggled up to Severus, being careful not to wake him with any abrupt movements. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia sometimes 'slept in' on Saturdays or Sundays, occasionally not arising until 11:00, or at least until Dudley woke them by clamouring for breakfast. Although Severus did not appear to be the sort of adult that would ever 'sleep in,' he seemed to be doing just that today.
But what if he was sick?' A voice deep within Harry asked. Worried, Harry gently placed a palm on Severus's forehead, moved it down the man's sallow face and felt along his neck. "Thank goodness!" little Harry mouthed at feeling that the man's skin was no warmer than normal. "You're not sick, you just wanted to sleep in today. Well you deserve to!"
Wondering if Cho was waiting outside the labs to serve her detention, Harry kissed his father on the cheek before climbing out of the bed to get dressed. The house elves had already cleansed the shrunken white shirt, undercrackers, trousers, frock coat, and outer robes that Harry had discarded just last night when he had his bath, so Harry removed his nightshirt and started to put the clothes on.
He walked out of his father's bedchambers, still doing up the buttons of his frock coat. He wondered once more why he always ended up with either one or two too many button holes, or one or two too many buttons. Harry noticed a breakfast of hot buttered waffles, bacon, eggs and hot cocoa waiting for him on the dining table.
"Is Harry Potter wanting breakfast now?" Dobby asked, popping into the room and placing a tray of sausages on the table.
"DOBBY!" Harry exclaimed, before running over and hugging the quivering house elf. "It's so good to see you again!"
"The Great Little Harry Potter is happy to see Dobby? WAAAAH AAAH!"
"Aw gee, Dobby!" Harry said, still hugging Dobby and patting his back. "Don't cry, you're my friend."
"The Great Harry Potter thinks of Dobby as a friend!"
"Of course! Even though your ways of saving me were scary, you're a real friend to try and do that!" Harry picked up Dobby and hugged him as though he were a large elfin doll. "Thank you for breakfast too, by the way."
Dobby sobbed, warming somewhat to the affection. "Even small, Harry Potter is a great wizard. Will Harry Potter be wanting more food?"
"Oh...If anything I might ask you to bring me another stomach so I can eat more of it!"
"Harry Potter is not only great, he is funny!" Dobby said before popping out of the room.
Harry pouted. He had been about to ask Dobby to join him for breakfast.
Noticing that only one setting had been prepared, but there was enough food for at least four people, Harry decided to look outside to see if Cho was there, waiting to do her detention. Since Severus wasn't awake yet and Harry enjoyed company, he decided that he would ask if she might join him. After all, people worked better when their stomachs were full.
Only an empty corridor greeted Harry when he looked out of Snape's chambers. This was very unusual! It was strange enough that Severus was sleeping late, but even stranger that Cho had not reported for her detention.
Harry was too hungry to ponder on those matters any further, and tucked in. As always, the food was exceptional. Not even Harry under the most watchful eye of Aunt Petunia could have prepared waffles as perfect as the house elves did. Harry ate heartily for a long time, thinking it odd that his appetite was as ravenous as when he had been a rapidly growing teenager, but had only a child's stomach to fill. Where did his body store the extra food? Good job he did not have an appetite such as Ron's! A de-aged Ron could likely exhaust the kitchen house elves.
Harry was about to reach for another strip of bacon when he noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet laying on the floor just a few feet away from the dining table. Normally this wouldn't have attracted his interest, but this particular copy of the Daily Prophet had been torn in half, as though someone had been enraged by something that had been written inside. The long vertical tear went through a picture of a large pile of rubble with confused people scurrying about it. Harry vaguely remembered dreaming about he and Severus running through a town toward that very station, only to have it explode right before their eyes. The fact that the very train station was depicted here horrified Harry greatly.
His breakfast abandoned, Harry excused himself from the table and picked up the marred newspaper. Out of its pages, fell a small envelope. Being the curious youth that he was, Harry knelt to the floor. With great ceremony, he turned the envelope over in his small hands before lifting the unsealed flap to examine its contents.
"Train tickets?" Harry whispered to the empty room. He read the tickets, and saw that one was for an adult passenger, and the other was a child's ticket. "What? Oh father! You were going to take us somewhere...and now you can't."
Harry's heart sank. Knowing that Harry could not travel by magical means, Severus must have opted for a muggle method of transportation. He had been planning to take them both on a trip to...Harry paused to read the ticket's destination and time, London...today!
London!
Could it be that Severus was reaching out to Harry, and they were going to go somewhere fun? Like muggle London, or even Diagon Alley? As a father and son? On a real outing? Harry would have finally had the chance to spend quality time with a real parent?
But they could not go without a train station to depart from.
Sniffling once again, as he had many times over the past week, Harry put the tickets back into the envelope and replaced them within the pages of the newspaper. It took a considerable measure of control to avoid throwing the paper hard against the floor, or into the fire itself, but Harry managed to put it down softly in the precise area he had first spotted it.
Sadly, Harry moped from Severus's chambers and made to return to the infirmary. If Severus were to wake, and found that Cho had not reported for detention, he would be quite angry. With any luck, Harry would manage to bring Cho back to the dungeons before that occurred.
Harry could barely remain standing when he opened the door to the infirmary. All of the beds were empty, and Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. Only Cho remained, seated on her usual chair with her upper body resting across YiChung's EMPTY BED.
"Oh no!" Harry mouthed to himself, piecing together the events from the sight before him. YiChung Chang, Cho's beloved grandfather, must have died during the night, and Cho had apparently stayed up all night grieving after him. She was sleeping, although the tears on her face were still not dry...she must have just cried herself to sleep.
Harry silently walked closer to the empty bed, and saw that Cho was holding a lock of silvery white hair in her delicate hands...YiChung's hair, a memento of her beloved grandsire. Harry wondered if she had fought with the house elves when they had taken YiChung's body away, and all she managed to grab was a handful of his long white hair. No, perhaps not, Harry surmised. The lock appeared to have been cut cleanly. Perhaps she had cut off a bit of her Grandfather's hair to have something of him to hold onto.
Tears blurring his vision now, Harry surveyed the area further. On the tray table was YiChung's ever present box of sesame candy and almond cookies. The elderly wizard had died before finishing even a fourth of the box. He knew that Cho brought her grandfather cookies and candy nearly every day...he was too sick to even enjoy them in his last hours.
Harry covered his mouth as he felt sobs force their way up into his throat. Poor Grandpa Chang! His human heart could not keep his largely dragon body alive.
Harry patted the pillow where the old wizard's head would have been, and quietly prayed that Grandpa Chang would have all the almond cookies and sweets he wanted wherever his spirit went. Harry also prayed that Grandpa Chang would never have to feel sad or be hexed again.
Harry moved closer to Cho, wanting so badly to offer her comfort. She would need all of her friends and family now, and as much as Harry wanted to be there for her, he pulled back. How could he offer her comfort when he himself needed comforting?
Still covering his own mouth to avoid sobbing aloud, and thereby waking Cho, Harry slowly backed away and toward the door out of the infirmary. Once there, he tiptoed through, planning to tell Severus everything he had seen. Harry would also beg Severus not to be too harsh with Cho, for her Grandfather had died, and she would be upset enough already. There was absolutely no need to add to it.
Halfway back to the dungeons, Harry nearly lost what little control he had left. He was glad he had not burst into tears in the infirmary, for he cried loudly as a child, and would have surely roused Cho. He could not help himself now. Veering toward the entrance fronting the great hall, Harry ran through, and out onto the largely deserted grounds of Hogwarts. He did not stop running until he reached the lake.
Just in time.
Harry fell to the ground, assumed a fetal position and began to wail in sorrow. "IT'S NOT FAIR!" Harry screamed out over the lake. "It's just not fair!"
Life had never seemed more cruel. Harry had lost his parents before he was even old enough to remember them, and he had lost Sirius after knowing him for only a relatively short time. How long would he be allowed to stay with Severus before he was killed as well? If Voldemort learned that Harry was Severus's son, Mouldyshorts would kill Severus or otherwise hurt him very badly.
Harry thought of ways he could possibly keep Severus alive, but could find no feasible solutions. Short of taking the aggressive route, and attacking the Dark Lord outright. In Harry's mind, it was the only way. If Harry were able to kill Mouldyshorts, he'd have his father back, and all would be fine. If he lost, well..., at the very least he'd not be alive to feel the pain. It was a win win situation. As soon as he was re-aged back to his former state, he'd make ready for battle.
His anger starting to ebb, he wept even more thinking about how hard a time Cho was in for. She was barely over Cedric Diggory's murder, and now she would have to deal with the loss of another loved one. Would she blame herself for years, and wonder if there had been anything she could have done to save her Grandfather's life? Harry had done the same. He wondered if he could have done anything to save his own parents, first from what he thought was a car crash, and then Voldemort.
Although he was not granted the chance to anticipate going with his father to London, that had been cruelly stolen from him before he even learnt of it.
Burying his face in his arms, Harry wept loudly, feeling both helpless and devoid of hope...
"What is wrong, dear child?" The Headmaster's voice penetrated Harry's throes of desolation.
The memories of the conversation he had had with Severus came back with a vengeance. This was the man who had knowingly sent his father to what was most likely his death. "BUGGER OFF!" Harry screamed, tears dripping off his chin.
The Headmaster looked both dejected and astonished at the same time. Harry noted that the aged Headmaster wasn't alone. Just behind him was a teenaged Asian wizard, dressed in deep black silk robes with gold and green dragons embroidered throughout the iridescent fabric. Harry had never seen that teen at the school before, but recognized the satiny black hair, reflecting the midday sunlight like spun obsidian glass...this must have been one of Cho's relatives. The youth's hair was stick straight like Cho's, except that it was much longer, the ends reaching the back of his thighs.
He must have come to grieve the loss of YiChung Chang.
Suddenly feeling more grief-stricken than angry once more, Harry turned to the teen. "Hello...you must be one of the Chang family..."
"I am." the teen said.
"Then." Harry started bawling once more, his tears breaking his voice to the point where he had to repeat everything to remain comprehensible. "I-I am so-so sorry for... for your loss."
The Asian teen stared blankly at Harry with his twinkling chestnut brown eyes. "Thank you for your kindness...but what loss do you speak of?"
"Then...then you must not know." Harry hid his face in his hands. "Maybe...maybe I shouldn't tell you, then. Go to the infirmary. Cho is there...she can tell you...better than..." Harry couldn't finish.
"Judging from how sad you appear to be, it would seem that you have suffered a loss of some sort." The young wizard threw his long hair over his shoulder and sat on the grass beside Harry. "Besides, I have already spoken to Cho. I left the infirmary a few hours ago."
Harry concluded that the teen must have been in shock, and only sobbed into his hands more. Albus sat on the other side of Harry and tried to console him without much success. The teen just stared at Harry, looking like he wanted to cry as well.
"Harry?" the teen asked when Harry quieted somewhat.
"H-how do you know my name?" Harry asked.
"I could never forget a thoughtful boy such as yourself." The Asian wizard said, his moist eyes twinkling despite the tears. He took a small red container out of his robes. "Would you like an almond cookie?"
"Th-that's just what...Grandpa Chang would have said...aaaaaahhhh!" Harry wailed for a few seconds before stopping abruptly. "Hang on... you...you..."
YiChung's eyes scintillated even more brightly at being referred to as 'Grandpa Chang,' especially by a boy who was not a blood relative. "Oh course that is what 'Grandpa Chang' would have said, because thanks to Albus here, I am Grandpa Chang, albeit considerably younger!"
"WHAT!" Harry gasped, falling back on his elbows. "But how?"
In tandem, both Albus and YiChung told Harry of the events that had occurred during the previous night. Apparently after Harry had retired, Severus stole away and went to the infirmary.
"I was most surprised at that." Albus, who had been visiting with YiChung at the time, said. "Your father came into the infirmary at roughly 12:01 in the morning and told Miss Chang that she had to serve her detention."
"I tried to persuade him to wait until dawn, but your father insisted that she serve her detention right then> He explained that he had told Cho earlier that she would have to serve detention first thing in the morning, and 12:01 am is technically morning." YiChung said, giving Albus and Harry an almond cookie, then taking one himself and munching it ravenously. "Cho had endangered his precious child, after all."
Harry was stunned. How could father have been so mean as to drag Cho out for detention in the middle of the night?
"Naturally, I protested and told him that he had no cause to treat a student that way." Albus stated. "But he forcefully dragged Cho off, so I had no choice but to follow."
"It was revealed that Professor Snape had brought all of the lab equipment he would need into an empty room on this floor." YiChung said, his eyes twinkling like two actively galactic nuclei once more. "He put Cho to work on a de-aging potion, while he enlisted the help of Madam Pomfrey in testing my blood counts and chemistry."
"Miss Chang was evidently so unnerved, that she brewed a full caldron of de-aging potion when all that would be required was four vials." Albus continued. "When it was completed, Professor Snape administered it to 'Grandpa Chang.'"
"After I drank the potions, it turned me back into a strapping man of seventy. You see Harry, when you get to be oh...past ninety or a hundred years old or so, your body can't heal as well as it used to, so your father's first step was to turn me back into a younger wizard." YiChung recounted.
Harry really wanted to ask why YiChung now looked like a twelve or thirteen year old, but thought it better not to interrupt. "Severus worked for many hours, brewing the most complex healing potions I had ever seen." Albus declared. "He simultaneously worked over nine caldrons, adding different ingredients and spells into each, and telling to Cho to monitor the potions when one of the caldrons needed more of his attention than the others."
"Madam Pomfrey watched over me the whole time, saying that my heart was weakening, but since it was now a younger heart it could still endure for a while longer." YiChung conveyed, "I did indeed feel better after having the de-aging potion, but I felt considerably worse when Severus returned to my bedside with a handful of muggle hypodermic needles."
Harry cringed. He hated having injections and wondered why so many of them would be required.
"With Madam Pomfrey and Cho's assistance, they injected the different potions throughout my body. Albus lifted the weight from my heart so that I could gather the strength to resume my human form." YiChung continued, the look of fascination on his features.
"Your father is a genius at potions. Each different potion healed the area in which it was injected. My body chemistry was so altered by the hexes, and my partial draconian transformation, that he needed to brew nine separate potions to inject at various sites to allow me to fully heal. Each one was made so precisely that it cured the area it was intended for. Professor Snape is the most miraculous potions brewer I have ever had the privilege of meeting."
Harry swelled with pride. Yes, his father was the best! The greatest! So he knew it, and now others did as well.
"But Harry, I need your help now." YiChung said, smiling.
"Sure, what kind of help did you need?" Harry asked.
"Your father would accept nothing as payment for his work, stating that it was all because of yours and Cho's mischief that some one had to do detention. Your father wants nothing as payment for his good work, but I would still like to repay him, or at the very least, do something for him...and you perhaps.
Harry shrugged.
"Out of kindness then, if not in payment?" YiChung asked.
Harry thought about it for a while and shrugged once again. He could think of nothing Severus would either need or accept.
YiChung sighed.
"Well I can't think of anything right now. But I've been wondering about something..." Harry started. "Since you were supposed to be aged to about seventy years old, why do you look like big kid?"
YiChung chuckled but sneered at Albus, whose blue eyes were glimmering mischievously. "I'm afraid I am to blame for that. You see, Harry about 138 years ago, I was in an exchange program to a wizarding school in China. In the year I participated in the exchange, I stayed with YiChung and his family."
"You were in the same year?" Harry asked, having a hard time envisioning Albus Dumbledore as a youth.
"No, Albus...uh Professor Dumbledore is seven years my senior. I was a first year when he was a seventh." YiChung said with a very childlike grin. "He used to always play pranks on me, he did! Like tying my hair to the bedposts when I was sleeping. Transfiguring my wooden slippers so that they sounded like drums when I walked around. And he'd make my clothes spotted like leopard skins. And he'd change the filling in my dim sum to something like chili peppers and chocolate sauce, and he'd turn my nishikigoi fish into firebreathers, And..."
"YiChung," Dumbledore halted him, looking like he was about to die of laughter. "I believe Harry has the general idea..."
"No I don't." Harry said quickly, hardly believing the Headmaster had ever played pranks that would make James Potter green with envy, and Fred and George marvel at the pure genius of them. He wanted to hear more, but Albus continued.
"YiChung...er...Grandpa Chang was like a dear little brother. I loved him the same as I loved Aberforth." Albus said, turning to YiChung. "Now that we're old men, it is all too easy to forget our youth and what it is like to be young. YiChung needed a gentle reminder."
"Oh balderdash!" YiChung stood up so rapidly that he almost tripped over his own hair. "You just wanted to laugh at me again! That was a dirty prank you did! Challenging me to a swallowing as much liquor as humanly possible in one gulp' contest and then switching my drink with the leftover de-aging potion!"
"In all fairness," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. "You fell for it, and Miss Chang did make a considerable amount of the potion, it would have been a shame for it to go to waste."
"GO TO WASTE!" YiChung screeched, jumping up and down as he spoke. "You should have taken a drink of that potion yourself and bought a penny whistle, some sherbet lemons, and a jump rope then! Besides, giving a person such a big dose of any potion? That's dangerous!"
"You are almost as old as I am, YiChung, I doubt even a full caldron of de-ager would have turned you into a foetus."
"Ohhhhhh!" YiChung shouted, looking rather comical now. "Just you wait, Albus! I'll have my revenge one of these days! When you least expect it! You'll always be seven years older than I am, but you can't outsmart me forever!"
For all his complaints, YiChung appeared to not be truly angry. He ran around Albus and Harry a few times, as though to expend a great measure excess energy. Soon his sprints became a jovial skipping. He took out his wand and transfigured a mushroom into a makeshift mattress and proceeded to jump on it like a trampoline. "You know?" YiChung said, executing an inverted triple loop. "I almost could not remember what it was like to move about without stiffness, or arthritis. And this is fun! Harry, won't you join me?"
In short order, Harry was jumping on the mushroom trampoline with YiChung. Even he had been no stranger to stiff joints and pain from injuries. For the first time in his memory, he could enjoy playing without discomfort or fear of punishment.
Albus sat on the grass and watched Harry and YiChung jumping and executing flips and spins. YiChung jumped off the mushroom when they noticed Severus approaching. "I thank you so much for saving me, Severus! Please dear son, in all but blood of Albus, let me do something for you in return?"
"As I've told you before, I did no more than anyone else would have done for you." Severus replied, as Harry ran to him and nearly bowled him over with a fierce embrace. "And Cho had a detention to serve..."
"Then may I do something as a kindness, rather than repayment?"
Albus interrupted this time. "YiChung, I have been informed that Severus and Harry had planned to go to London this day, but due to the unfortunate destruction of the train station at Hogsteadder, they will not be able to go."
"Is that so?" YiChung asked, his large chestnut brown eyes twinkling. He bounced, rather than walked directly up to the dour potion master. "Professor Snape? Has Cho been taught how to brew a re-aging potion? Or might you have some available?"
A magnificent dragon, with iridescent black scales which glowed a faint green in the waning daylight, bolted across the sky. It travelled so fast, that anyone looking up at the moment would have reported the appearance of a black meteor grazing the Earth's ionosphere.
Severus Snape lay nearly flat against the great dragon's back, reducing as much wind resistance as possible. Strapped to the potion master's back with sashes forming a crude harness, was Harry, who wondered just how many in the magical world had had the privilege and pleasure of a ride on a dragon's back.
Minerva, Albus, Filius and Remus will be meeting us at the Leaky Cauldron in about twenty minutes. YiChung said telepathically in his draconian form.
"Is that how long it will take for us to reach London?" Harry asked, hugging his father's shoulders, and feeling more proud of Severus than ever.
No Harry, we will be served our drinks by the time they apparate there.YiChung replied.
In the distance, Harry saw lights spreading across the tapestry of the landscape. "Is that London, father?"
"Yes," Severus replied, raising his head from YiChung's back to glance ahead. The familiar, fast-approaching skyline filling with him with trepidation...and a strange feeling of nostalgia. "We are almost home."
End Part Twenty-Four
