You must be joking," Cornelius Fudge said.

He stared at the paper on his desk as though it was a snake, likely to bite him.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The Quill of Acceptance has placed his name in the book. There is no question."

"He's not human," Fudge said. "There are laws against non-humans using wands."

"True," Dumbledore said. "But half-humans fall under a different set of rules. Two of the instructors at Hogwarts are the beneficiaries of those rules."

Fudge scowled. "You'd put a potentially dangerous creature around impressionable children?"

Dumbledore stared at him impassively. "He's been here for a month without causing any problems. I believe the reports I have are that he is a delight to work with."

Fudge shuddered. "He's so...cheerful."

"His entire world has crumbled around him, but his first impulse is to spare the feelings of those around him." Dumbledore said quietly. "That does not seem such a bad quality in a young wizard."

"He's not a wizard. He's...something else."

"According to the quill, whatever magic he has is compatible with wizarding magic. The Book of admittance confirmed it. He is not a squib."

"He is not a wizard either."

Dumbledore said "He may not be a wizard yet, but he could be."

"I thought the quill only recorded British births?"

"Apparently he came into the world in Britain as a magical being, and that was enough for the quill."

Fudge was silent for a moment. "What happens when he stops being cheerful?"

"What better place to have him be than a place with a staff trained in dealing with children and a thousand sets of eyes from his peers to keep an eye on him."

"We can't allow his guardians to go with him," Fudge said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I doubt he'd be willing to be separated from them. Perhaps if I were to keep them in my office...?"

Fudge scowled.

Keeping them in easy reach of the most powerful wizard in the wizarding world might not be the worst idea anyone had heard of. His aurors were convinced that they'd learned all they could from the gems without actually cracking one open.

They'd already spent too many galleons guarding the things, and all they ever did was sit there. They were a dead end.

Also, there had been arguments among the aurors; several wanted to adopt him. There was something about the boy that seemed to make people like him. Fudge distrusted this, of course. No politician was likely to underestimate just how powerful likability and charisma could be.

Still, if something did go wrong, Dumbledore would be to blame. Dumbledore had too much power and the Ministry could use something to hold over him.

"Very well," he said. "But it's on your head."

As they entered Diagon Alley, Sevarus Snape noted that Steven didn't have the wide eyed fascination most muggle-borns had with their first exposure to magic. Presumably that was because he wasn't actually muggle-born. He'd lived with magic his entire life, although he'd also lived among the muggles openly.

Snape wasn't sure what to make of him. He was stocky, but Aurors had reported that he was at least ten times as strong as an adult human male. They said he was fast and nimble as well, belying his appearance.

He wasn't as cheerful as reports from the aurors had made him out to be, which Snape was more than grateful for. Little grated on his nerves as much as a prattling child.

At the same time, he didn't seem intimidated by Snape at all. He'd been facing a variety of monsters for more than two years by his own report.

Snape suspected that he'd been showing the aurors what they'd wanted; a cheerful face in spite of his circumstances. Seeing that Snape had no such expectations, he'd dropped the mask slightly.

Or perhaps he was playing on Snape's own expectations.

"Why are we here again?" he asked.

"There are supplies you need for school," Snape said.

"I've never been to school," Steven said quietly.

"Most pure bloods are home schooled," Snape said.

"Pure bloods?"

"Wizards from wizarding families. Muggle borns come from non-magical families."

"So I'm kind of like half of each? I'm magic on my mother's side, but my dad is pretty normal, except for being a rock musician."

"You'd be a half-blood if your mother were an actual wizard," Snape began, but he quickly saw that Steven wasn't listening.

The mention of his father's name seemed to cause Steven to shrink into himself.

His father had been unable to make the transition between worlds; his guardians still hadn't recovered. As far as anyone could tell, it would be impossible for the boy to ever see his father again.

At least his father was still alive. That would have to comfort the boy; it was more than many had in the aftermath of the last war.

"Don't dawdle," Snape said.

"A real challenge," Ollivander said.

He'd been informed of the boy's circumstances of course. The boy's magic might be close enough for the Quill of acceptance, but it might present unique challenges for the wandmaker.

The boy looked curiously around the room, but he showed none of the trepidation normal wizarding children showed.

"The wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander continued.

The first three wands he pulled out had no reaction at all.

"Maybe I'm not a wizard," Steven said. He didn't sound upset.

The fourth, Ash with a phoenix feather core caused an explosion of light that made Snape grimace. When he could see again, he saw that the boxes of wands had all collapsed to the floor.

"Of course it would be a phoenix core," Ollivander muttered.

"Why?" Steven asked, seemingly curious for the first time since Snape had met him.

"It should be obvious. Phoenixes die and then rise again from their own ashes. From what I hear about your people, isn't that what they do as well?"

The boy looked startled. For a moment Snape thought that he was going to cry, but then the boy's face broke out in a big smile.

It transformed his face in a way that was startling.

Snape forced himself to scowl. "Let's get on with it."

There was something likable about the boy, and Snape didn't trust it.

"Hazel with a phoenix feather core, fourteen inches, pliant and supple," Ollivander said triumphantly. "A very large wand for such a small boy."

He glanced up at Snape.

Wandlore had it that longer wands suited those with big personalities. Hagrid's wand was the largest known at sixteen inches. Hazel was capable of powerful magic but tended to reflect its owner's emotional state; it was so loyal that it would not serve another master after its owner died.

Snape scowled and handed eight galleons to the wandmaker.

"We have places to be," he said.

Steven looked up at him and smiled slightly. "I had a friend named Lars. You remind me of him a little."