A/N: Sorry it's been a while, guys. Got busy with school.

As far as birthdays went, Harry's eleventh birthday hadn't turned out half bad. In fact, Harry might go so far as to say it was one of his better birthdays. He'd never had a birthday cake, at least as far as he could remember, which made the stale donut Liam and Dudley had presented him with a vast improvement. More than that, however, Liam and Dudley had made a point of honoring Harry's birthday—of marking it in some way—and that meant a lot. It really did.

Liam had even slipped out of the sub shop later that night and returned with leftover pasta and rolls from behind an Italian restaurant he knew of. It wasn't often good, Liam said, to steal from restaurants—the chefs were apparently touchy about such things—but once again, it was something special Liam was willing to do to celebrate Harry.

That night, Harry lay on the floor of the sub shop with his head on his backpack and one of Liam's blankets thrown over the top of him, and he stared up through the darkness. Dudley was already asleep, snoring loudly, but Harry could tell from the way that Liam was shifting around that the younger boy was still awake.

Harry whispered, "Liam?"

"Yeah, Harry?" Liam whispered back.

Harry trailed his fingertip along a crack in the floor. "When's your birthday."

Liam was silent for a long time—so long, in fact, that Harry thought the boy wouldn't answer, or perhaps that he'd dozed off. At long last, however, Liam said, "January 13th."

"Oh," Harry said.

It wasn't long before Harry heard the sounds of light snoring that meant Liam had fallen asleep as well. Harry himself couldn't bring himself to fall asleep, though. Harry rolled over and dragged his Hogwarts letter from the front pocket of his backpack, where he'd tucked it earlier that week. He trailed his fingertips across the broken seal and allowed his mind to wander. What if Liam and Dudley were right? What if Hogwarts was real?

Severus sat down at the foot of Brinley's bed. He'd tried, all through dinner, to breach the subject of bringing another child into the family, but somehow he'd been unable to bring the words to his mouth. It was impossible to tell how the boy would take the news, but more than that, Severus feared that he wouldn't know how Brinley felt. The boy was so used to holding his own council—much like Severus himself, in fact—and Severus feared he would hold his own in this as well. Now, however, Severus knew that he really must explain the matter. Albus would be bringing the children by tomorrow, and Brinley really deserved warning.

"Son…" Severus began.

Brinley frowned. He knew, of course, that Severus was trying to adopt him formally—heck, he'd taken on the man's name—but for all that, he wasn't yet ready to call Severus his father, and he wasn't sure how he felt about being called the man's son.

"I was in love once," Severus said quietly. "Have I ever mentioned it?"

Brinley swallowed. He traced the pattern in his quilt for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, sir."

"I was," Severus said. "I was painfully, madly in love in my youth to a woman named Lily Evans."

"Was she your wife?" Brinley asked.

"No." Severus smiled sadly. "No, she wasn't."

"Why not?" Brinley said.

Severus smiled. "Just because you love someone doesn't mean you're ready to get married."

Brinley thought about that a moment and then nodded.

Severus said, "She eventually did get married. She married a man named James Potter, and they had a son."

"I'm sorry," Brinley said quietly.

Severus laid his hand on Brinley's ankle and squeezed lightly. "I'm not telling you this out of regret, Brinley. I'm… I'm quite pleased with the way my life has turned out. I'm proud to call you my own."

Brinley ducked his eyes to his lap.

"Unfortunately," Severus said, "several years ago, Lily and her husband passed away."

Brinley said, "Oh."

"Her son went to live with her sister in Surrey," Severus said. "However, just this week it was determined that he was once again orphaned."

Brinley blinked. "That's…unfortunate."

Severus inclined his head. "Quite."

Brinley watched the man for a moment. "You're gonna take him in, huh?"

"I'd like to," Severus said. "Yes. I'd quite like to. But I'm well aware of the situation you faced with your biological parents, and I don't want you to think that I will…"

"Like the other kid more and lock me in an attic?" Brinley finished.

Severus smiled sadly. "It's more than unfortunate that you had to suffer that misfortune."

Brinley's jaw tightened slightly. "I…yeah."

"Brinley…" Severus said quietly.

"You know," Brinley said, "Mother and Father—my biological mother and father—they were fine when my little brother was first born. They weren't… It didn't change until last year, when my Hogwarts letter didn't come."

"They shouldn't have changed at all," Severus said.

Brinley shook his head. "That's not my point. My point is… Look, it's not like I don't think a parent can take care of two kids at a time. I'm sure they can. My parents just… Well, I mean, it's clear that for some reason you don't care that I don't have an ounce of magical power. So I guess it's okay, you know?"

Severus smiled and patted Brinley's foot. "Thank you."

Harry was very small. He was sitting, but he was moving at the same time. After a moment, he realized with a flush of embarrassment that he was being pushed along in a pram. He boosted himself up, trying to get a view of the street he was being pushed along. It was a city of some sort; he wasn't sure which one.

The pram was turned, and Harry found himself facing a dilapidated pub squashed between two much larger buildings. The door squeaked as it was pushed open, and Harry felt the pram catch on the doorway for a moment, and then he was through the door. The pub was dim, and half-filled with the weirdest looking people Harry had ever seen.

A bent-over bartender said, "Lily. James. I wasn't expecting you guys today."

Behind Harry, he heard a male voice said, "It felt like high time for Harry to experience London."

"Going into Diagon Alley, then?" the bartender said.

"Of course," the voice said.

Harry was wheeled outside, behind the bar, to a patch of grass with a beat-up trash can slouching against the wall. A moment later, the wall split apart and folded in on itself, becoming a great arch, and behind the arch was a street larger and more wonderful than anything Harry could have imagined on his own.

"Diagon Alley!" the male voice announced.

A female voice added, "We have to stop by Gringotts. You did bring the key, didn't you, James?"

"Harry has it," the man said.

"Harry…? James, you can't give a key to an infant!"

"Oh, relax," the man said. "I gave him an emergency bracelet. There's a key attached to it. Frankly, I think every kid should have one."

Harry woke up. His heart was racing in his chest, but he couldn't figure out why. The dream he'd been having hadn't been bad, after all—just a bit weird. He sighed and carded a hand through his hair. The dream had been really weird. A key attached to an emergency bracelet?

Harry couldn't help himself; he ran his fingers over his wrists automatically. His right hand located the old scar on his left wrist. It had been there for as long as he could remember, a pale, V-shaped scar so white and faded that most people wouldn't have noticed it at all. It had been there for as long as Harry could remember. Now, however, feeling it, there was something funny about it. Something…

He frowned, bit his lower lip, and dug at the scar with his fingernails. He expected to feel a bit of pain, but instead, something shimmered on his wrist for a moment—an outline, about the size of a watch strap, all the way around his wrist, but clear and somewhat intangible. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Liam!" Harry shouted. He grabbed the flashlight near his bed and flipped it on. "Dudley!"

"Harry?" Dudley asked.

Liam said, "You okay, mate?"

Harry frowned. When he'd called out to the other two, he'd let go of the old scar. The wrist band had faded back into non-existance. Now, his arm just looked like an arm… And yet he was sure that he hadn't imagined it. He said, "We have to go to London."

"London?" Liam asked. "What for?"

"We just do," Harry said. "C'mon. Right now. Right this second."

Dudley said, "We can't just up and go to London, Harry."

Liam laughed. "Heck, why not? We don't have anything better to do."

"Why London, though?" Dudley said. "Why can't we just stay here? I'm comfortable here."

Harry rubbed at his forehead, trying to sort through his thoughts. "I just… I feel like that's where we need to be. Does that make any sense?"

"Nope," Liam said cheerfully. "But I'm game."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Dudley.

Dudley sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

Harry kept staring at his older cousin. The last thing that he needed was for Dudley to complain the entire trip to London about how it was a waste of time.

Finally, Dudley growled, "Yeah, okay. I'm game, too. But… do we really have to go right now?"

Liam stood up and started to roll up his blankets. "Better now than later, I'd wager. We can sleep on the train."