Hermione sighed and stretched as her last class of the day filed out of the lab. A bit morosely she looked at all the dirty cauldrons.
"I'm beginning to understand why Snape assigned so many detentions," she mused as she waved her wand to gather the cauldrons and set the brushes in the sink to start cleaning.
"Professor Granger?"
Phoebe looked around the corner of the room.
"Oh, hello," Hermione smiled, "do come in. And it's Hermione. It's bad enough I have to hear the students call me 'professor' all day."
"Hermione it is, then. From 'The Winter's Tale', right?"
Hermione's delighted face made her chuckle.
"My parents are both Muggleborn. My grandparents are avid readers, and introduced me to Shakespeare. They said that 'being magical is no excuse for being uncultured'," Phoebe imitated her grandfather's old, formal voice.
Hermione giggled. "Sounds like my dad, alright. He insisted on a Shakespearean name for me. It could have been worse; I could have been a boy. He wanted to name a boy 'Cymbeline', can you imagine?"
Phoebe snorted. "Poor child. Your mother would have objected, I bet. But what I came here for, I finally managed to revise all teacher's contracts. I need you to sign both of these, and then you get to keep one. This nullifies your old contract."
"Old? I signed it a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh well. The previous one. It definitely needed revising. If you want to read it before you sign, that's fine with me, just send it to me or drop it off at my office. Tea's ready most of the time."
"I'd love to, thanks. Phoebe…"
"Yes?" the young witch turned around from the sink where she had been watching the cauldrons in fascination, "my, the students do know how to make a mess of these, don't they?"
"It was the first time they made this potion, and it's quite tricky," Hermione dismissed, "they'll do better next time. Phoebe, I understand if it's a touchy subject for you, but I was wondering…"
"How I got this scar?" Phoebe finished her sentence a bit tense, "yes, I heard students gossip about it in the corridors already. It's quite simple, really. Death Eaters attacked my grandparents just before the final battle. We had wards on their houses to warn us of trouble. My parents and I apparated in to defend them. My parents died. I vaguely remember being extremely angry and shooting spells. I woke up later in St. Mungo's, with my face mostly bandaged."
Hermione had tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Phoebe."
The witch crushed some dried nettles between her fingers. "It was all for nothing, you know. They killed my grandparents anyway. The Aurors later told me that I did manage to take out at least three Death Eaters before they left me for dead, killed my grandparents and Disapparated."
Hermione simply threw her arms around the other woman and they both cried a bit for the people they lost in the war.
"I was just able to sit up and think about walking when the final battle took place," Phoebe said a while later, over a cup of tea in Hermione's office, "and a week or so after that I wandered around and found Harry. We got along from the start. Besides, therapy and all is pretty frustrating sometimes. It helps to have a friend near."
Hermione scowled a bit. "He never let us near."
Phoebe hesitated. "Hermione…allow me to be frank. However much you and the Weasley family – Harry told me much about them – assured him he was part of them, part of the family, he still woke up alone. He tried to understand; really, he did. But after Voldemort, after waking up paralysed, it was more than he could take to realize that in the end, he was not part of a family, not really. That blood always comes first. And I think if it had been just that, he would have been able to live with it. If only one of you had been able to spare a few minutes each day to visit him. If anyone had taken steps to keep his obnoxious relatives away. As it was, he had to protect himself, and he closed himself off from you. Not by choice, but because his survivor instincts kicked in."
"We were something…he had to survive?" Hermione gasped in horror.
"Your absence was something he had to survive," Phoebe corrected, "the feeling of not belonging anywhere was something he had to survive. He cares deeply for all of you, but he needed, and still needs, time to heal. And some wounds run too deep for the healing, and leave scars. Not only like the ones on my and Harry's face, but deep inside as well."
"I love him," Hermione whispered, "He has been like the brother I never had for so many years…those first days…all those wounded…I should have been there for him."
"Yes," Phoebe said softly, "you should have. It's not an unforgivable mistake, Hermione, especially not if you regret it. He just needs time."
"He needs you," Hermione chuckled through her tears.
Phoebe blushed deeply. "We're just friends!" she protested.
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"Harry dear,
Hermione tells us you are at Hogwarts, teaching History. We all would love to see you again, sweetheart. Do you feel up to coming to the Burrow soon?
Love,
Molly."
Harry threw down the letter on the table. Severus, laying in his romper suit on the table, having just been changed, looked at him curiously.
"Sorry Junior," Harry muttered, tickling the child's feet, "It's such a nice letter. Why do I feel upset about it, then?"
The baby gurgled a bit in response and grabbed Harry's finger. Harry paid no attention, thinking about his letter, until he felt baby gums chewing away, and babydrool covering his finger.
"Hey! No biting, Junior!"
The baby ignored his protests, and smiled widely when Harry wiped his hand on his trousers.
Hedwig stared at the infant benignly, like a mother watching over a treasured young one. She hooted softly and clearly smirked when Severus looked around in confusion until he spotted her. Then he drooled in an excited sort of way, trying to reach for her.
"Show-off," Harry muttered as another owl came flying in.
Harry,
Molly wrote to you to invite you to the Burrow. However, I feel that after you have been so neglected in the hospital, it is unfair to ask you to come to us. Besides, we would love to see your new quarters and classroom.
Is it alright if we come over for dinner next week?
Arthur.
"I underestimated Arthur," Harry read the letter again, "That IS what was bothering me in Molly's letter."
He sighed as he took out a bottle and watched it fill with formula. He tapped it just to be sure, but the temperature was always perfect. Taking Severus in the crook of his arm, he sat down to feed him his bottle. While the child drank contently, Harry contemplated his answer.
The only one he had been in correspondence with during his hospitalization was Remus Lupin. The man had faithfully written every week, and Harry had replied somewhat regularly. He wished he could visit with him now, but Remus and Tonks were abroad. Several European governments, shocked by the readiness the werewolves in England had shown in following the Dark Lord, had asked Lupin to help them as an ambassador to their own werewolf population, hoping to prevent a disaster like the British had faced.
Remus still wrote every week, however, whenever it was possible.
Dumbledore entered, waving a lurid pink handkerchief to wipe his face.
"Hot today, isn't it? I wish I could follow the children's example and go bathe in the lake."
Harry grinned widely, getting a sudden mental image of the headmaster in bathing suit.
"Careful there, young man," Dumbledore warned, his eyes twinkling, "I don't need Legilimency to know what you are thinking now. Has my boy been behaving himself?"
The headmaster bent over the baby, who was still drinking. The little one paused for a moment to smile at his grandfather before resuming his attack on the contents of the bottle.
"He's been perfect. Asleep most of the time, in fact."
"Good, good. Thank you for babysitting. Are you still going through with your battle re-enactment today?"
"Yes, but I've moved it to the evening, when the temperature goes down a little. I've given them the afternoon off to rest or swim."
"Excellent. I will extend curfew tonight. Are the children excited?"
Harry laughed. "Excited isn't the word. They are besides themselves. You wouldn't believe the amount of research they've done to get their costumes and their characters just right. The younger students aren't going to join, but they have been preparing the battle field and Flitwick is assisting them with charming the dolls we made to make up the extra's in the armies."
The headmaster beamed happily. "Wonderful, my boy. I'm quite eager to see how they will do tonight."
Harry handed him the baby. "Here, you burp Junior."
Dumbledore chuckled as he laid the baby against his shoulder and patted his bottom. Severus burped softly, and then lazily closed his eyes.
"I think I'll put a cooling charm on the pram and take him outside," the headmaster said, "Poppy says he needs fresh air. Winky will look after him tonight; I can't take him to the battle, he'd be frightened."
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Filius Flitwick was enjoying his afternoon. The young history teacher's ideas were delightful, he decided. He had never seen the first years pay such close attention to what he was teaching.
The youngest students had been allowed, under his guidance, to prepare the part of the grounds they would use for the re-enactment. They had mastered the Levitation charm quickly when he promised them they could help him move the scenery into place. The second and third year students were charming the propped up dolls to move about a bit and shout threatening phrases at the 'enemy'.
"Alright, children," the tiny professor squeeked when they were done, "thank you so much for your help. Now, go enjoy yourselves, and cool off some before the battle tonight."
The children cheered, and ran about, sitting in the shadows, splashing in the lake and talking with eager anticipation about the battle they would see later.
Dumbledore, sitting in the shadow of a tree with Severus laying on a blanket besides him – slight cooling charm in place – watched them run to and fro with an indulgent smile.
"H-headmaster?" a tiny voice came.
"Ah, miss Grendel. How are you doing, dear?"
The small Slytherin inched closer. "Fine, sir. Thank you for letting me come early, it's fun here. I'm learning loads!"
"That is good to hear," Dumbledore nodded, "Looking forward to the battle tonight?"
"Yes sir. I…I was wondering, sir…" the girl blushed a little, "Can I…can I see the baby? I'll be careful, I promise! There were babies in the orphanage too, I'm used to them."
Dumbledore looked mildly surprised, but beckoned for her to approach.
"This is Severus, or, as professor Potter prefers to call him, Junior."
Severus/Junior looked up at the tiny witch and his bottom lip trembled slightly. Dumbledore picked him up and cuddled him.
"Now, no need to be frightened, little one. This is Fiona, and she wanted to say hi."
Fiona's face lit up when the baby looked at her again, and gave her a tiny, watery smile.
"Oooh, he is CUTE," she cooed. She very carefully reached out and stroked a pudgy little hand. Severus immediately grabbed her finger and tried to move it to his mouth, never taking his eyes off of her.
"There are really funny colors around him," Fiona said, "they look the same as that of the man in the castle."
"What man, dear?" Dumbledore asked.
"I don't know his name," Fiona looked a bit shy, "but he talks to me sometimes. It's not like I can SEE him…just hear. I can see the colors when he talks to me. Is…is something wrong with that, sir?"
Dumbledore gently motioned for her to sit against the tree, and then he carefully laid Severus in her arms. She looked utterly enthralled. Severus had wrapped her completely around his shrimp-sized fingers.
"Do you see colors around me too?" the headmaster asked.
Fiona nodded, completely focussed on the baby in her arms.
"All people have them, some animals too. Professor McGonagall has the same colors as a cat I see walking around the school sometimes."
Dumbledore had to bite back a laugh.
"You see magical cores, child. It's a rare gift. Every witch and wizard has a magical core. The colors you see are like solar flares, they erupt from the core and twirl about us. Basically what you are seeing is a magical signature."
"Oh," the girl wasn't very impressed. "And the man?"
"I'll have to look into that. My guess would be a ghost, but they don't have cores anymore…"
"I don't think he's alive, though," Fiona shrugged, "his colors are really faded, like he isn't really here anymore."
Very carefully, she gave Severus back to the headmaster.
"I like him, he's sweet," she said, smiling at the infant. "Bye, Severus! Goodafternoon, professor Dumbledore," she ran off to rejoin her friends.
Severus chewed on a strand of beard and looked up at his thoughtful grandfather.
"You do know your beard is getting wet, don't you, Albus?" the amused voice of the Transfigurations teacher interrupted his thoughts.
"What? Oh ACK. Severus, sweetheart, not Grandpa's beard again!"
Dumbledore retrieved his face hair from the fists, and spelled his hair dry. Disappointed, Severus pouted.
"Hello, Minerva. You just missed miss Grendel."
"I saw her sitting here," the corners of the witch's mouth twitched, "I was waiting to come here too…if you…if you still want to introduce me to your grandson."
Dumbledore's face brightened so much she could have been looking into the sun. He patted the blanket invitingly.
The witch sat down a bit stiffly, not entirely comfortable. Albus simply put the baby in her arms.
"This is Severus. Harry calls him Junior, and that's how I think of him. The son of my son."
Minerva instinctively cradled the child.
"Hello, little one," she whispered. When Severus gave her one of his smiles, she suddenly cuddled him close and kissed the small face, tears in her eyes. Albus rubbed her shoulder in understanding.
Severus didn't seem to mind; the weird lady had funny hair that he could just reach…
The headmaster paled when Severus managed to pull the neat bun from his Deputy's hair, but Minerva just laughed.
She rained kisses on his face while he gurgled happily.
"I'm sorry for how I treated you before, darling," she whispered in the small ear, "I'll be a real grandma to you from now on, I promise."
Severus yawned, and settled to sleep against her. She rocked him slightly, blushing a bit when she looked at the ancient wizard next to her.
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"Alright!" Harry cast a Sonorus on himself. "ALRIGHT."
The children quieted, the excited buzz dying down.
"GREAT TO SEE YOU ALL HERE," Harry began, "AT THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS. KING HAROLD'S ARMY, MOVE TO THE LEFT OF THE FIELD, PLEASE!"
A large group of sixth and seventh years moved.
"THANK YOU. WILLIAM, MOVE YOUR TROUPS TO THE RIGHT. REMEMBER, ARCHERS AND WIZARDS IN FRONT, INFANTERY AND MEDI WIZARDS AT THE BACK."
The troops obeyed. The younger students, in the stands, cheered when the part student/part charmed doll army moved.
"BEFORE WE BEGIN THE BATTLE, HAROLD AND WILLIAM WILL INTRODUCE THEMSELVES."
Two seventh years came forward.
"My name is Harold!" he proclaimed, "The rightful King of England. My relative over there," he pointed at William, "should have stayed in France where he belongs. My magic is stronger, my army is better."
The second seventh year walked up. "I am William! Guillaume, Duke of Normandy! I claim the right to the throne, and I will have it."
They returned to their ranks and the battle began.
Albus and Minerva sat on a bench together, watching the show. Hermione and Mad Eye were helping Harry.
"This is amazing," McGonagall said in awe, "they're even using different kinds of magic! Look! Harold's side is using the spells used in Danelaw over a millenium ago. You can see the magic is a bit more crude than William's. If you look closely at the French magic, you can see that it is definitely an early form of what is taught at Beauxbatons nowadays. I can't believe how much effort the children have put into this."
Albus nodded. "Absolutely! Harry is doing a terrific job."
"The children have been asking me a lot of questions lately, wanting to know the origins of every spell. Their essays have become most interesting."
"It'll die down after a while," Albus mused, "but after so many years of Binns, I bet they are very excited to have a proper history teacher."
Minerva's lips thinned in disapproval. "If you had followed our advice and appointed a new teacher long ago…"
The old wizard nodded. "I kept Binns on for far too long," he admitted.
Cheering went up in the field.
"THE BATTLE IS OVER! HAROLD IS DEAD!" Harry's voice announced, "VERY WELL DONE, EVERYONE. AND A THANK-YOU TO OUR AUDIENCE!"
"Come," Albus said to Phoebe, who sat behind them, "did you hear?"
She nodded. "He's very tired. We better go get him. His ego would never recover if he collapsed in front of all those students."
"Nor can it manage to excuse himself and go to his rooms."
They reached a History professor who was pale with exhaustion, but grinning widely and complimenting students while receiving pats on the back from colleagues and older students.
"Well done, Harry," Phoebe kissed his cheek, receiving cat-calls from the surrounding students, "come with us," she whispered in his ear, "the headmaster and I will pretend we need to talk to you."
Harry nodded gratefully.
"Well done, my boy," Albus's voice boomed, "well done to all of you! Icecream and soft drinks await you all in the Great Hall. Go on, get cleaned up and enjoy a midnight feast."
The students happily filed out, talking excitedly about battle tactics, magic, and invasions of Britain.
A/N: Next chapter features Harry's introduction to the Slytherins. And Albus gets closer to unraveling the mystery of the Voice. How did you like Fiona? I think she's cute. hugs Fiona