Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters but I have made them dance this time. No money made, no gratuities accepted except the reviews of my peers, for which I thank you.

I always answer my reviewers if they leave a name and I am always happy to chat with them over PM. Huge thanks and a great deal of gratitude as you are the reason I managed to get out of the mud and get going again.

If you have a flame to send, I suggest you do a spell check, the last couple look like they were written by a drunken kindergartener, sorry.

Another huge thanks to my BEsT betas Zarathustra46 and the Wicked Bunjhny who make this lot legible and grammatically sane.

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Chapter 16 – Decisions, Decisions

Staring down into the cauldron, Snape curbed the urge to grind his teeth in disgust. The dirty lavender-coloured gloop burped back.

"And this is… what?" he asked softly, not bothering to turn his head.

"Er, Calindary's Brew, sir," came the stammered reply.

"It's not really a vibrant lilac colour… is it?"

"No, Sir."

"And… it does not smell faintly of floury potatoes."

"N-no, Sir."

"Humm, and what do you think… went wrong?" Snape asked, straightening to survey the quaking man before him.

"Perhaps the… the dragon livers… Sir."

"Elaborate."

"They were, er, dried livers and perhaps… perhaps fresh would have been… better." Robert Pellowicz, Potions Honorarium, swallowed hard and blushed in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Snape had agreed to tutor him on his run-up to his Masters examinations but it was proving to be a long and hard slog. Sometimes Robert wondered if he had ever learned anything in the past twenty years, especially when Snape highlighted some patch of ignorance the potions pupil had unwittingly displayed, usually in Snape's cruellest manner possible.

"Explain to me the difference between dried and fresh Dragon liver. Explain also, what you could have done to compensate for the difference between dried and fresh."

Merlin hear him, Robert hated that drawling, sarcastic bastard who tore up his knowledge and made him feel like an inadequate schoolboy all over again. Still, the tutoring was invaluable and there were cures for his feeling of inadequacy, he had discovered very early in his tenure. He had picked out a couple of the stupid Muggleborn first years that were particularly susceptible to Imperius. He could do whatever he liked to them, then use his 'inadequate messes' to heal them up again. A quick Obliviate and they were as good as new and ready to be played with the next time Robert needed tension relief. He reached for the textbook he had been working from only to find that long, pale fingers had already picked it up, an eyebrow arched assessingly, and a lip curled in disgust.

"This is Salachini's 'Potions Intentia Conruptissimus'," Snape hissed, tossing the book down with a bang. "The recipes in this book are either incomplete or obscured to make the student use the lump on their neck for more than stopping their spine from fraying. You are supposed to think about what you are doing, before you do it!"

"I know, Sir, but…"

"But what? Are you or are you not a Potions Honorarium? Do you, or do you not have advanced training in both logic and the properties of ingredients and how their preparation might affect the potency of each item? Have you also not been introduced to methods that compensate for the inadequacies of an ingredient by increasing or how to substitute another ingredient? Then get on with it!" Snape finished with such a roar that Pellowicz ducked and flinched.

"Sir, where, er, where would I find such information? Cardum Relevation gives little instruction about various preparations and how it affects the ingredient," the man ventured timidly when the Potions Master miraculously swirled away without hexing him.

Severus opened his mouth to blast the idiot then paused, his encyclopaedic memory choosing and discarding the many volumes he had read until he was forced to admit that there was no single volume that might be of assistance. "Research it, you idiot!' Snape snapped as he stalked away.

oo0oo

The very deep box of parchment sheets still sat on his desk all but ignored and forgotten as Snape leaned his elbows on the surface and tapped his lips with his meshed fingers. Should he send it away? Would he dare expose so much of himself for the general potions brewing public to see and perhaps scorn? His was a very private store of knowledge, after all. Still, if Pellowicz's level of knowledge was any indication, the compendium would be timely and valuable to serious students of the art of Brewing. 'Plants as Potions Ingredients, A to Z: How Harvesting And Treatment Changes The Properties' by Severus I. Snape. It wasn't a flashy title, not even an encouraging one, but it was honest.

The revisions were comprehensive; the massive manuscript first copied in its entirety five times before the precious original manuscript was sent to his Gringotts vault for safe-keeping. After spending five minutes stressing and agonising over his decision, Severus sat down and began revising the list of ingredients, composing a list suitable for use in the classroom. After all, some of the things he had explained were considered the blackest of the Dark Arts ingredients, even though no single component was inherently evil. At least, he didn't think so, even if the majority of the wizarding world didn't entirely agree.

Then he faced the horrid task of whittling and paring the categories down into four sub-levels. The first edit was geared to school-aged children up to NEWTs level, the language even revised and the index assembled for easy use. The next level was suitable for college students, the third for Honorarium, and the final for Masters level students. His final copy of the original manuscript, by the addition of an index alone, was a suitable reference work for a major learning facility and perhaps for the Archives. The task took the better part of a fortnight to complete with time out to teach his NEWTs classes or to eat and sleep, necessities he begrudged bitterly.

Snape was very pleased with his work, something that would make his life easier, especially when teaching the dunderheads their first simple brews. Taking a deep breath, Severus used a complex spell to duplicate his manuscripts again, the copies for later deposit at Gringotts. He then summoned an owl before tying up the box with string. It only took a moment to scribble the publishing company's address on the front, the same company that published Potions Digest. Before he lost his nerve and before second thoughts could blunt his enthusiasm, Snape consigned it to the post owl and sank back into his chair, his hands shaking.

For a long time he sat and meditated on his feelings then laughed at himself. He had not sent his only child off into the world, rather a simple set of parchment instructions on how to harvest and prepare plant ingredients and what to expect if it all went pear-shaped. Pulling his robes straight and clicking his tongue when he realised they had become a little too loose on him again, he wandered out to dinner in the Great Hall without a forced summons from the Headmaster.

oo0oo

"I don't care what you think! You're 'oh so fool-proof' plan failed abysmally! The man is still functional and very capable. He has not succumbed to insanity, he has not been wiped clean down to the base level of his personality, nor has he been reduced to a vegetative state! In fact, he is back at the Dark-forsaken school he has always been in, protected by wards strong enough to defeat an army, and cosseted by one of the most powerful wizards in the world! How, given all of the above, could you possibly think you have achieved success?"

If the words had been shouted or screamed, the kneeling petitioners could have ignored them or at least made excuses to stave off the blame, but they were not. Instead, a deep weary disgust filled the usually decisive voice and made his minions cringe. Paval Titov, Day Master of the Clan Belarus, was not a happy camper; not at all!

Turning away, Titov shook his head and studied the chiselled stonework lace above his head. The elaborate and beautiful sandstone filigree covered the whole wall that stood between the Audience Hall and the Family Head's resting place. He knew his Clan Sire was listening to the bumbling excuses of his underlings and was embarrassed for them, and for himself. Bowing deeply, he offered his apologies silently, feeling the threads of contact snake through his brain, sharp enough to punish yet not damage his mind.

"Clan Mosnarpynski was always odd, restless and willing to travel anywhere the fancy took them. Being invited across the water with William Ruffus was purely serendipity on Andri Mosnarpynski's part." The mental voice was old and deep, still powerful for all the Sire's thousand years of life.

It sent a shiver down Paval's spine although the information was fascinating and explained so much. Suddenly the ruminating tone focussed sharply and Paval straightened abruptly. "The fact that they not only survived but prospered and assimilated the whole of the British Isles for Clan territory is a testament to the complete ineptness of Clan Odes'ka. All our attempts to wipe Clan Mosnarpynski out have failed, too. The Mother knows, we have been trying to obliterate each other ever since the first awakening. Bah! We should just let Odes'ka and Mosnarpynski fight it out and pick up the spoils when they are finished... I suppose Clan Praham is remaining neutral, as usual?"

Paval Titov sent an affirmative thought and winced as his Clan Sire chuckled grimly. "Very well, we will take a hand, on the side of Clan Mosnarpynski, and protect the line descendant, if only to keep the balance until we can swing it in our favour."

The Day Leader of Clan Belarus bowed to his Sire's wishes and turned to give a rapid string of orders to his subordinates. From trying to destroy Mosnarpynski for centuries, they were now pledged to protect the last remnants of the Clan; such was the nature of Clan Politics.

oo0oo

Harry Potter was a happy man. Not to say he was ecstatically happy but he was content down to his bones which was an unusual feeling for him. His session with Professor Snape had been traumatic in many ways and on so many levels, yet cleansing. Once Potter had accepted the idea that he had to change wands, he had asked Ron to take him to Ollivander's.

Ron, now fitted with a wooden leg not unlike Moody's and in his constableship with the Aurors' Department, had agreed. They arrived at the dusty shop which was newly restored and ready for business. Although Harry couldn't see him, Ron murmured that Ollivander looked just as creepy as always and the place was just as dim and weird as it ever had been. Of course, Ollivander tried his usual 'sneak and scare' technique which had failed abysmally as Harry's very sensitive ears had detected the rustle of his robes as soon as he had heard the bell.

"Mr Weasley, I trust your new wand is satisfactory?" Ollivander murmured in his usual sulphurous voice, making Ron roll his eyes.

"Perfect, thank you," Ron agreed, remembering Remus Lupin's kindness in sneaking him away from St Mungo's and bringing him here to get a new wand when his healers wouldn't let him out. "But we're here for Harry today, not me."

"Ah, Mr Potter, the phoenix and holly no longer suitable to your needs, I imagine."

"Sadly, no. It just isn't right," Harry agreed with a faintly pained shrug.

"No, it has accomplished great deeds, as promised, but now, alas, you have outgrown it. So, perhaps something with a little more... versatility... for everyday use?" The old man's hands sounded like shedding snakes as he thoughtfully rubbed them together. "As I remember, it took quite a few tries to find the right wand. Perhaps we should simply eliminate any of the more common wands and go straight to the exotics."

Harry let out a deep, bottomless sigh and heard it echoed from Ron as footsteps slipped away. It was going to be a long, long day!

Teak and Hippogriff feathers literally exploded, the splinters peppering all three men quite liberally. Pear wood and Horntail scale set two shelves of wand boxes on fire. Gopherwood and Ice Phoenix merely melted. As Harry and Ron became more downhearted, Ollivander became more animated, disappearing for longer and longer periods, the sound of boxes being discarded recklessly until a little 'ah-hah' of triumph made both of them straighten.

"Found it, found it! I knew it was still here somewhere. Now, dear Sir, I have this very exclusive, not to say bizarre effort, from my great-grandfather's brother's son's grandson who came over from the Americas to visit some twenty years ago and brought me one of his wife's people's first efforts at European wand making. Native American, you know, Comanche medicine people. He was experimenting with Native materials and thought this wand was suitable for someone rather more powerful than the average; Sequoia wood from the heart in cross-section with a Quetzalcoatl feather core. The properties are... uncertain... but... give it a flick."

Harry waited while the handle was placed in his palm, the fit surprisingly comfortable despite the thickness of the carved wood. He heard Ron's sharp gasp but he didn't have any need of confirmation as the feel of warmth and familiarity washed over him.

"Whoa!"

"Definitely a match," Ollivander said in satisfaction as his snakeskin hands rustled together once again, this time quite happily. "For you, Harry Potter, one Galleon. That covers the cost of the owl I have to hired to send my apology to my nephew," he joked. "We had a bet…, I bet a Galleon that no one could use the wand but obviously we forgot about your… extraordinary talent."

"It's bloody beautiful!" Ron murmured almost reverently. "The wood is dark crimson at the handle moving though red to orange to gold and finally bright canary yellow, rather like a phoenix feather but... not. Over the top it has a sort of green-blue overlay like when a bit of coal flares in a fire. It's incredible and the carving on the handle moves - a green and gold snake with beautiful phoenix coloured wings, which move. That is one spectacular wand, Harry."

Harry nodded and sighed. The wand felt perfect in his hand and the nagging ache of... 'not right'... had finally lifted from the back of his mind, only noticeable by its absence rather than its presence. He paid the single Galleon gladly and slid the wand into his holder, realising it did not fit the new wand at all. Ron snorted softly as Harry fumbled but it was a momentary flub easily fixed by a bit of wandless wishcraft. Harry shot Ron a smug smile and was rewarded by a laugh from his friend who no longer laughed as freely as he used to.

"Shall we, Mr Weasley?" Harry asked in his best imitation of Draco Malfoy, crooking his arm invitingly.

"We shall, Mr Potter," Ron replied in the same snooty tones and fitted Harry's hand into the bend of his elbow.

They bowed in synchronisation to Mr Ollivander and departed the shop with a laugh.

On the cobbled street outside, Ron began to chat about his job as they drifted away toward the main part of the alley. "When Kingsley said I could join the Auror program as a third year trainee but not as a graduate, even though I have technically finished my training, I thought he meant on probation, not as a constable. He reckons that this tin leg will take a bit of getting used to as it has changed how the magic circulates in my core. When I get used to it, I will be promoted to corporal."

"Yeah, Moody said losing his leg made him have to get used to the feel of his magic all over again. I guess it's the same thing with you," Harry agreed.

"Humm, guess you are in a similar sort of predicament, too; having lost your eyes and that bit of old Voldy-soul. Tell you what, how do you fancy hopping along to the MLE training facilities and having a bit of a session in the practice room there with me? We could blow up dummies and stuff without any real damage to each other or the surrounding area."

"Okay. Ginny's not expecting me until dinner time so it should be okay," Harry agreed, relieved to hear that happy lilt in Ron's voice again. It had been missing for a very long time.

oo0oo

The Magical Law Enforcement training facility was located near London Bridge Station, right under the Muggles' noses. It wasn't a large facility but it had been renovated and reinforced since the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, at Fudge's semi-hysterical demand. There were a number of training rooms, seminar rooms, and a dormitory facility as well as a storage area for dangerous and Dark artefacts.

When Ron and Harry apparated into the reception area, the Auror on duty was alert enough to draw his wand until both young men identified themselves even though the guard knew Ron on sight and everyone recognised the Man-Who-Prevailed. Harry rolled his eyes at the gushing note in the young man's voice, then almost burst out laughing when he realised the 'young man' was at least four years older than he was. Ron sounded rather embarrassed when he told Gurnsey to stuff off and let them into the little training room as Harry had a new wand to test out.

The room was large and echoing, much like the training area the Room of Requirement created for Harry at Hogwarts but the targets did not chime until Ron cast a charm. "So what do you want to try first?" Ron asked, settling down on the bench behind his mate and powering up the built-in Shielding wall to protect spectators.

"Professor Snape and I just sort of began with a few ranging blasts then I started modulating power, speed and distance to see what I could do."

"Why don't you go through the routines we learned from Moody, they're pretty much standard here. The room is one hundred yards square and the target is in the centre of the room. I am sitting in a recessed booth behind you so you can't hit me no matter how you aim the spells. When you are ready, begin." Ron put on his best instructor's voice making Harry laugh as he cocked his head to listen to the chiming of the target and judge where the sound was coming from in relation to his present position.

A quick word changed his everyday robes for the close fitting jumpsuit-style training outfit that had in-built cushioning charms and some spell resistance. It was one of the first spells Moody had taught them in the Room Of Requirement and was almost second nature to anyone in the DA. Testing the drop on his wand holster, Harry used the inherent spells to customise the holster for his present wand, then flexed his muscles in the warm-up routine as if it was just another training session in a long string of training sessions he had taken part in over his short life. The easy familiarity seemed to settle into his bones and psyche and Harry felt balanced for the first time in months. Closing his eyes, he could almost hear Moody yelling for him to get on with the bloody thing instead of shilly-shallying around.

Half sniggering, Harry drew another deep breath then sprang forward, his wand dropping neatly into his hand as he cast a straight blasting curse at the target. A roll, a twist and another blasting curse, then a jump straight up as the target shot back, taking on a life of its own. Harry yelped then gritted his teeth in determination as he spun and danced the deadly ballet; a sight to behold as he slowly and methodically reduced the target to splinters, rarely missing, hardly ever taking a hit.

When the final gong went, he dropped flat as he had been instructed, then climbed wearily to his feet, wiping his dripping hair away from his sticky forehead. The fading scar of his fame was standing out in stark contrast against the extra-red sweaty skin but he didn't care as he spun to where Ron was supposed to be, a giant grin breaking out on his face.

"How did I do?" Harry demanded excitedly, too tired to do a happy dance, but the spirit was willing.

"Eh, not bad," Ron drawled, then laughed, with an undertone of envy. "You did good, Harry, really well. The lack of training over the last few months does show, you missed five targets, but on the whole, you are at about 94% of normal."

"I wish all of my trainees did as well," a new speaker remarked and Harry stiffened, his wand coming up and a shield sparked around him instantly before he recognised the voice.

"Kingsley," Harry acknowledged with a slight bow. "You shouldn't sneak up on me, I'm twitchy, I am."

"So I heard and saw," the older Auror replied with humour in his voice. "Impressive, Harry, very impressive. The new wand is as good or dare I say better than the old one. You are coping with the added handicap alright?"

"Yeah, I am now. I went up to Hogwarts a few days ago and Professor Snape put me through my paces. Feeling sorry for yourself around the Bat of the Dungeons is a waste of time, his and yours. He soon sorted me out and, well, as you can see, all is good now."

"Humm, I do wish I could convince Severus to train some of my people," the Auror mused with a sigh.

"He'd kill them," Ron grunted, then laughed. "Imagine if he poisoned the whole of the MLE like he did the DA? Wouldn't that cause a riot?"

Ron and Harry fell about laughing and even Kingsley snorted in amusement. "Perhaps not a good idea, after all," Kingsley ruefully conceded. "So, what now, Harry?" he asked offering a towel to the younger man.

"I am going to go home and enjoy being a man of leisure for a bit longer then I am going to be a Daddy, did you know? I also think I might write some stuff down, the real story, not this fluffy hero bull-twang everyone seems to be lapping up eagerly. The real deal." The featureless grey eyes narrowed in disgust and determination. "Too many people are trying to dress up what really happened in romantic notions when in reality it was bloody, dirty and soul- destroying. If we don't remember the bad stuff as well as the good, we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes again and again."

"Agreed," Kingsley said, as he escorted the two of them out of the facility.

oo0oo