“You’re what!?”

Ginevra Weasley-Potter smiled at her husband.

“I’m pregnant. About a month gone.”

Harry Potter ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end.

“Uh…are you sure?”

“Yep.” Ginny smiled. “Been to a Healer and everything.”

“But…how? I mean, we just started trying...”

Ginny beamed. “Look, I know it’s a bit ahead of schedule, but we can manage.”

Ahead of schedule was, in Harry’s mind, putting it rather mildly. True, they had been married for almost four years, but they were both building careers at the Ministry. Children had, of course, always been part of the plan, but not quite so fast.

Harry was snapped back to reality by Ginny squeezing his hand.

“I know you’re surprised, Harry. I was, too. But I need you to be happy about this, all right?”

He looked into his wife’s bright brown eyes, and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Of course I’m happy, Ginny. How could I be anything else?”

---

It had been eight years since the war had ended, and those eight years had been keeping Harry busy. It was not an easy thing, helping to put the magical world back together. Like the other members of the Order who had survived, Harry did his best to downplay his role in Voldemort’s final defeat. It wasn’t always easy, but he found that most people wanted to put the war behind them as quickly as possible.

Of course the war had taken more out of Harry, cost him more, than anyone else. He still had nightmares about it, and there were times when a sound or a smell could instantly catapult him back to those dark days.

So he stayed as busy as he could. Which wasn’t that hard. As soon as he had finished school he had embarked on his Auror training – which had been rigorous, to say the least—and then he had gone to work. For the first few years he had lived, slept, and breathed his work. His personal life had been non-existent.

He had kept his distance from Ginny, just as he’d vowed to do in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Of course the issue now wasn’t so much putting her in danger—although his work still had the potential to do that—but that he had wanted to let her get on with her life.

And Ginny, being Ginny, had. The year after she graduated she also took a job in the Ministry. She worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the Being division, two floors away from his own. They seldom saw each other, except in the lift at work or at Weasley family get-togethers. It was all terribly civil and, in Harry’s opinion, quite maddening. He knew she was dating other people (his best friend, Ron, always dutifully reported whom) and he tried, and usually failed, to do the same.

This unbearable (at least in Harry’s mind) situation went on for two more years. During that time Ron settled down with Hermione Granger, and most of the other surviving Weasley brothers married off as well. New grandchildren for Arthur and Molly began to regularly appear at the Burrow.

Finally, Harry screwed up all his courage and asked Ginny out.

Their first real date was supposed to have been dinner at a fine restaurant and tickets to a Muggle show in the West End. At least that had been Harry’s carefully wrought plan to begin winning Ginny back. When he had arrived at her flat, however, Ginny had had other ideas. They had ended up making love on her living room floor.

Six months later they were married.

And now, Harry thought to himself as he stared into his bathroom mirror, they were going to have a baby.

He stared hard at his reflection. He saw a tall, rather thin man with bright green eyes and messy black hair staring back at him. He certainly didn’t see someone who looked like he could be a father.

A knock on the door startled him. “Harry, are you all right? We’re going to be late for dinner with Ron and Hermione.”

Harry put on his glasses. “Coming.”

---

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead--”

Harry opened his eyes in the darkness. Next to him in bed Ginny murmured something and rolled over.

Even though it was a warm spring night he shivered a bit and pulled his wife closer.

He’d been having a nightmare. Usually when he dreamed it was of Voldemort, or of Professor Dumbledore’s death.

He hadn’t dreamed of his parents’ deaths in years.

Knowing it was still hours before dawn, he tried to go back to sleep. But no matter how still he lay in the darkness, not even Ginny’s rhythmic breathing could lull him.

He lay there, awake, until the sun came up.

He didn’t mention the dream to Ginny.

He just hoped that, whatever it was, he’d now gotten it out of his system.

Harry once again woke with a start and sat up in bed. Sweat was pouring down his body, and his heart was pounding. He took a deep breath.

He’d been dreaming again. About Voldemort, and Godric’s Hollow…

“Harry?” A sleepy Ginny reached over and grabbed her wand from the nightstand. “Lumos.” She looked at him in the dim light her wand cast. “Are you all right?”

He ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m OK.”

Ginny traded her wand for the bedside lamp and flipped it on. “You were having another nightmare.”

“I guess so.”

She rolled into a sitting position, a task made a little more difficult by her belly. She was now five months pregnant. “You’ve been having a lot of those lately.”

“I know.”

“It seems to me you’ve been having more of them since we found out I was pregnant,” she said bluntly.

“Ginny…”

“No, Harry, hear me out. I think this has something to do with the baby. Which dream is it?”

When Harry didn’t speak she looked at him knowingly.

“It’s the one about your mum and dad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. But I honestly don’t see the connection.”

“You don’t? Harry, don’t be thick. You’re going to be a father in a few more months. And you’re dreaming about your mum and dad dying. I think this is about your not feeling connected enough to them.”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

Ginny blushed. “Maybe, because you didn’t know them, you’re worried about being a parent. I know I am, and I still have mine.”

“Ginny, you’re going to be a great mum. You learned from the best.”

“But that’s exactly my point. If I’m nervous, even with my mum and dad and all my brothers and their wives to help, how must you be feeling?” Tears began to well up in her eyes, something that happened more easily nowadays.

“Ginny, don’t upset yourself, you know it gets the baby going…”

As if to prove this, Ginny made a little woofing sound and rubbed her belly. “That was a good kick,” she explained. “You see, the baby knows you’re worried, too.”

Harry wasn’t going to try to reason with his wife on that one.

“I know what I need to know about my parents. I have those photos Hagrid gave me, and what Sirius and Remus and Dumbledore said…”

“But it’s all just bits and pieces, isn’t it? It doesn’t really tell you what they were like. In fact, you’re not in most of those photos or stories, are you?”

Harry thought about this. “No, I suppose you’re right.”

Ginny took his hand. “Don’t misunderstand me, Harry. I am absolutely sure they were great parents. They wouldn’t have sacrificed themselves for you the way they did if they weren’t. I just think you should consider the possibility that your nightmares are coming from a need to find out more.”

“Uh huh.”

“What if you took some time off? You have all those vacation days saved up at work. And you said you’ve finished up with that mess in Bournemouth. I’m sure Kingsley would be happy to let you go for a few weeks.”

“I’ll think about it.” Harry rubbed his eyes. “Promise. Now I think we should go back to sleep. You and the baby need your rest.”

“The baby doesn’t want to sleep,” Ginny said. “The baby’s hungry. The baby’s wondering if there’s any butterbeer left in the fridge.”

He sighed. “Since I’m up anyway, I’ll go look.”

Ginny smiled sweetly. “Thank you, dear.”

---

As Ginny had predicted, Harry had no trouble getting time off.

“Harry, you’re one of the best Aurors I’ve got. You do the work of three people, you never give up, and you get all of your paperwork done on time, which keeps the Minister off my back.” His boss, Kingsley Shacklebolt, laughed. “You’ve earned some personal time. By all means, take it.”

The next day, after Ginny went off to work without him, Harry pulled out his photo album. He realized with a guilty start that he hadn’t had it out in a long, long time.

There were his parents at their wedding, happy and smiling. Other photos had been sent to him by his parents’ old friends. They were the sort of ordinary pictures any family—well, any wizarding family—would have.

Except that Harry did not share any of those memories. All but one of the photos had been taken before he was born. In the sole photo of Harry with his parents, Harry was too young to have been aware of what was going on. In fact, in that photo baby Harry was currently looking rather fretful.

He poured a cup of tea and sat down to reflect on what Ginny had said. His wife was usually quite insightful about these sorts of things.

So what was it about his parents he might subconsciously want to know?

Well, he might start with how they had finally gotten together. Harry still chaffed at the memory of how rude James Potter and Lily Evans had been to each other in Snape’s memory of that ugly incident in their fifth year. Both Sirius and Remus Lupin had assured him that the two had been able to work out their differences by their seventh year, but Harry still had no idea how or why.

And, come to think of it, why had they had him? Not that Harry wasn’t grateful to be alive. But James and Lily’s timing had always struck him as a little off. They hadn’t been like the Weasleys, who had started their family long before the war had begun.

Harry tried to picture the situation in his mind. There were James and Lily Potter, working for the Order, fighting a war against a man generally considered the most evil dark wizard in modern history. In fact, they had been repeatedly targeted for death by the followers of that same wizard. And they had decided to have a kid? They must have known how risky that would be.

Unless maybe, Harry thought for the first time, his conception hadn’t exactly been planned. Babies did have a way of showing up at the most unexpected times.

Had they been pleased about him coming? In the photo of them holding his baby-self they looked very much in love and very happy. But he was nearly a year old by then. They had had some time to get used to him.

So if Ginny was right, and Harry was starting to think she was, what could he do about it? He knew his Aunt Petunia and his mother hadn’t been on speaking terms, so there wouldn’t be anything she could tell him he didn’t already know.

Who did that leave? The Weasleys had known the Potters, of course, but the couples hadn’t been particularly close friends at the time. Hagrid had told Harry everything he knew a dozen times over. And Dumbledore and Sirius were both dead.

That left only one person who might have some of the answers he was seeking.

---

On Tuesday, after Harry saw Ginny off, he caught the train into Hertfordshire.

He reached the town of St. Albans around lunchtime, and strolled through the leafy streets until he came to Hay Lane. He found the little cottage he was looking for and sat down to wait on the porch.

After a few minutes a man and a boy came down the lane. The man had deep lines around his eyes, and his hair was solidly gray. He walked with a slight limp, but his smile was warm and kind. With him was a small boy in school robes. Catching sight of Harry, the child rushed through the gate and managed to stop just in time to avoid a collision.

“Harry! I didn’t know you were coming!” Artemus Lupin cried.

Harry hugged his godson. Artemus looked like Tonks must have as a child, all flailing limbs and knobby knees. But he had his father’s gentle smile.

“Your dad invited me for lunch,” Harry told him.

“Astral!”

Harry assumed this was a good thing.

“Hi, Remus. I hope I’m not too early.”

“Not at all, Harry. Come in, come in.” Remus opened the door and led him into the kitchen. Artemus charged upstairs to change into play clothes.

“Wow, he’s getting big,” Harry told Remus.

“He’ll be seven in a few more months.”

“I remember.”

Over soup and sandwiches the child studied Harry.

“Mum said you and Ginny are having a baby,” Artemus finally said.

“That’s right.”

“I hope it’s a boy. You’d like a boy rather than a girl, right, Harry? Girls are pretty useless.”

“Ginny and I don’t mind what it is, boy or girl.”

“Can I come and see it after it’s born?”

“Finish your lunch and don’t ask so many questions,” his father said gently.

But Harry nodded. “Sure. Once it’s home and we’re all settled, you and your mum and dad can all come for a visit. OK?”

“OK.” Artemus nosily slurped up the rest of his soap. “Done. Can I go play now?”

“Of course. Just try to keep the noise down.”

“Bye, Harry!” the child told him cheerfully as he raced off.

The two men went out into the back garden.

“So, Harry,” Remus asked. “How can I help you?”

Harry pulled out his photo album. “Well, this may sound like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I have some more questions about my mum and dad.”

“Hmmm.” Remus took the album and paged through it. He paused at the photo of Harry’s parents’ wedding. “Oh, what a day this was!”

“Where did they get married?”

“The Registry Office at the Ministry. But then we all went down to James’ folks’ place in the country for the reception. What a party that was. Sirius was in his element, of course. He and Hagrid ended up trying to out-drink each other. Hagrid won, obviously.”

“Were my grandparents there?”

“No, both Lily’s and James’ parents were gone by then. I do know Lily invited her sister---“

“Petunia,” Harry supplied.

“But neither she nor her husband came. I don’t think they even sent a gift.”

“I doubt they would have,” Harry agreed. “Why aren’t you in the picture?”

“This particular one?” Remus smiled. “I took it.”

“Oh.”

“You came all the way down here to talk about your parents’ wedding?”

“Remus,” Harry sighed. “That’s just the beginning.”

For the next several hours Harry plied him with questions. He asked about James and Lily as students, as a couple, and as parents. Remus told him what he could remember. Often they would pause and refer back to the photo album, so Remus could point out people as he mentioned them. Many of them had died in the war.

“That must have been tough on Mum and Dad. And on you.”

“It was. Everyone was losing friends, family members…” He looked at Harry seriously. “But then you know what war is like.”

“Yeah.”

Both men were silent for a long moment.

“You know, Harry,” Remus finally began again, “as happy as I am to share any memories I have with you, it might actually be more useful to you to see some of them.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “A Pensieve, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never had very good luck with Pensieves, Remus. Every time I learn something from them it seems to get me into trouble.”

“I don’t see why these would. They’d be my memories, and you’re welcome to them. I thought perhaps I’d give you one about Lily and James in our seventh year. Then you’ll be able to see Lily and James as they really were, not just as I tell you they were.”

Harry was genuinely touched. “If you’re willing to do that, Remus, I’d be honored. You’re the only person who might be able to tell me what I need to know.”

“Yes, well, that’s something else that’s occurred to me as we’ve been talking. Strictly speaking, Harry, I’m not the only person. There is someone else you haven’t thought of. Though I hesitate to mention him.”

Harry blinked in the sunlight. “Who?”

Remus glanced away for a moment. “Severus.”

For a moment Harry was too dumbfounded to speak.

“Snape? You want me to talk to Snape? Are you mad?”

Remus held up a hand. “Hear me out, Harry.”

“That lying, double-crossing, murdering…”

“Harry, stop. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Harry remembered that his godson was inside, and might overhear them. He took a deep breath and tried to get a handle on his emotions.

“Snape.” Even the name remained unpleasant.

“I know, Harry. But think about it. He was in our year, all the way through Hogwarts. And he was in the Order at the same time as James and Lily.”

“And he hated them.”

“He hated James, anyway. But he had a great deal of interaction with both of them.”

“But all of Snape’s memories would be negative.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of what you’re trying to do here, Harry?” Lupin said gently. “You want to know your parents as one adult knows another. Everyone has flaws. You’ve already seen some of James’ in that memory of Snape’s.”

“And some of Sirius’,” Harry said absently, remembering how the teenaged Black had goaded James on during his attack on Snape.

“And some of my own,” Remus said quietly.

When Harry looked at him Remus smiled. “Come now, Harry, you must admit I don’t come off very well in that incident, either. I knew what James was doing was wrong, and I just stood there. I should have spoken up, and I didn’t. That was cowardly of me, and I’ve always regretted it.”

“He was your friend.”

“Have you ever hesitated to stand up to Ron when you knew he was doing something wrong?” Remus asked rhetorically. “No, Harry, I should have stuck to my principles.”

Harry shrugged. He was not in a mood to get into a debate with Remus.

“But we’ve gotten off the subject. I think Snape’s memories of your parents, biased though they undoubtedly would be, would help round out your picture of them.”

“Nobody knows where Snape is. He hasn’t been seen since just before the war ended. Even when Narcissa Malfoy came forward about the oath and the Ministry reduced the charges against him he didn’t reappear. He might be dead for all we know.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice Remus wasn’t looking him in the eye.

“What? Are you telling me you know where he is?” Harry was trying very hard not to raise his voice.

“No, Harry. I’ve just heard rumours over the years, bits and pieces. The last I heard he was alive, and somewhere on the Continent.”

“Europe’s a pretty big place.”

Remus cleared his throat. “If there’s any truth to the rumours, Harry, you might want to approach the French Department of Magic. They may have more recent information they could give you.”

This was all becoming too much. “If you mean that the French have been withholding information from the Ministry…”

“None of this is coming out right.” Remus rubbed his forehead. “Harry, I doubt the Ministry has any interest whatsoever in finding Snape. Even if the charges against him could be sorted out, having him back in England would only open up a lot of doors the Ministry would rather remain closed.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, Remus. I know you’re trying to help, but this is a lot to process all at once.”

“I know, Harry. I sometimes think that’s always to be my role in your life—to make it more difficult than it already has been.”

“Remus…”

“No, I’ve said my piece, Harry, and you may do with it what you will.” Lupin smiled. “And I did mean what I said about the memory for the Pensieve—if you still want it.”

“Of course I do. And you don’t make my life more difficult.”

Remus shook his head sadly, but was interrupted by a crash and a loud, “Damn and blast!” coming from inside the house.

“Ah, Tonks is home from work.”

Harry had to laugh. “You can tell that’s her?”

“When she uses the Floo Network she always forgets about the andirons in front of the fireplace. When she comes home she falls over them. So this morning Artemus and I moved them to one side after she left. But it doesn’t sound like it helped.”

Knowing Tonks to be a magnet for accidents of all kind, Harry chuckled. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Come in and say ‘hello,’ and I’ll start looking for a glass bottle you can put my memory in.”

When Harry arrived home late that evening, he had with him the vial containing the memory Remus had decided to share with him. He also had a Pensieve he had just purchased in Diagon Alley. It looked just like the one in Dumbledore’s office at Hogwarts: made of stone with exotic runes carved around the bowl.

Ginny greeted him at the door. She looked tired, and Harry insisted she sit down at once.

“It’s been a long day,” she admitted, sighing heavily as she eased onto the sofa. “Mounds of paperwork at the Ministry, and it was so warm today I’ve been really uncomfortable.” She rubbed her protruding belly. “Your note said not to keep dinner back for you, but there’s some pasta in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“No, I already ate—thanks anyway.”

He handed the small glass bottle to her.

Ginny regarded the cloud-like strands inside of it and smiled. “Remus’ memories.”

“Yes. He wanted me to see this one for myself. He says he can give me more if I want, but it’s a start. He also had this absolutely mad idea that…well, never mind. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Harry took the new Pensieve out of its box and set it on the dining room table. Inside of it there was already the swirling vortex he remembered.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Harry,” Ginny protested. “Open it.”

“You really think I should?”

“Memories aren’t like wine, Harry, they don’t benefit from staying in the bottle.”

“Do I just dump it in, or…”

“Dump it in,” Ginny insisted.

“OK.” He carefully tipped the contents into the Pensieve. The clouds began to swirl faster. He glanced back at his wife.

“Here goes nothing.”

And he leaned over the Pensieve, and looked into it.

---

Harry felt again the unpleasant, stomach-churning sensation of falling downward into the swirls of memory…

And then, with a thump, he was standing in a hallway.

And not just any hallway. He recognized it instantly as the hallway in Hogwarts’ dungeons that ran outside the Potions classroom. In his time that had been Snape’s domain. But this was clearly not his time, because coming towards him were three of the four Marauders.

They were all a good deal taller than the last time he had seen them, in Snape’s memory. James, in particular, now looked much more like the James Harry recognized from photographs and from the Mirror of Erised. If that had not tipped Harry off that they must be in the Marauders’ seventh year, the Head Boy badge on James’ robes would have.

“I don’t see why we have to be down here so early,” Sirius Black was saying. “Look, there’s nobody else here yet.”

“Slugworth said we were going to doing wormwood potions today,” James explained. “I want to get started cutting up that crocodile heart. If it’s not exactly right the potion won’t work. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want another melted cauldron on my record, thank you very much.”

Sirius pushed open the classroom door.

The Marauders stopped dead in their tracks

Severus Snape and Harry’s mother were already in the classroom. They were surrounded by potions ingredients—slimy crocodile hearts, wormwood, a jar of pickled fairy wings floating about in pink fluid—and a simmering cauldron. It looked like Lily had been writing down instructions in her notebook.

Snape had also grown taller since the last time Harry had seen him in a Pensieve. He, too, now looked much more like the adult Snape Harry would know: hook-nosed, greasy-haired, and perpetually scowling.

Lily Evans was absolutely beautiful. She’d been pretty before, but now, at seventeen, with her long red hair and bright green eyes, she was stunning. Harry felt a rush of pride at being her son.

When she saw the three Marauders staring at her, Lily tossed her hair and deliberately turned back to Snape.

“Make sure those crocodile heart pieces are exactly a quarter inch across,” she told Snape. “If you don’t do it right the whole thing will be ruined.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Snape told her frostily, keeping one eye on the Marauders and one eye on his work. He carefully added the heart bit by bit, making sure none of the scalding hot wormwood splashed.

Snape had been his mother’s Potions partner? Funny, Remus had never mentioned that. But Harry supposed it made sense—they were undoubtedly the two most advanced students in the class, even if they were from different houses.

Now that the Marauders had arrived the tension in the room was palpable.

“Well, well, if it isn’t good old Snivelly,” Black said. “I should have known you’d be lurking about down here. Better that mug of yours doesn’t see the full light of day, eh?”

“We’re working, Sirius,” Lily said hastily before Severus could open his mouth. “Professor Slughorn said we could use the classroom to get a jump on today’s work.”

“He told us the same thing,” Remus said softly.

Harry was relieved to hear his dad speak up.

“We haven’t got all day. Let’s get set up over by the blackboard. Remus, you may as well get started, too.”

Although Harry could tell from James’ body language he was acutely aware of Lily’s presence, he walked confidently away from her and began gathering up his own ingredients. Harry wasn’t sure if it was being two years older, or being Head Boy, or just wanting to behave in front of the girl he loved, but this was a new, improved James.

Harry liked him.

Sirius, however, had evidently not improved. He had sidled up to Lily and was peering rather rudely into her cauldron.

“Is it supposed to be that colour, Evans? I wouldn’t trust anything Snivelley says, if I were you.”

“Yes, it is supposed to be that colour,” Lily said impatiently. “The instructions are already right over there on the board.”

Black looked towards the front of the room.

“So they are. Fancy that.”

Harry noticed that Lily kept glancing over at James. Her expression had softened a bit.

“So long as you follow the instructions it comes out fine,” Lily told Sirius. “But it helps if you get everything ready ahead of time. You’re smart enough, Black—you can do it in a moment, I’m sure.”

Sirius looked a little too pleased with Lily’s compliment. Even Harry could see his smirk. So could Snape. That was all it took.

Severus evidently just couldn’t resist cutting the other boy down to size.

“Don’t give him too much credit, Evans. Without St. Potter by his side Black isn’t good for much. In fact, you’re not good for much when he is by your side, are you Black?” Harry wondered if it just was years of resentment talking or if, heaven forbid, Snape, too, in his own strange way, was trying to show off in front of Lily.

Black’s handsome features instantly darkened. “Shut it, you.”

“Poor little Sirius. Worthless to the school, worthless to the world. In fact, his own family doesn’t want him anymore, isn’t that true, Black? What a disappointment you must be to the great House of Black!”

“Severus!” Lily said in a hushed tone.

Both boys ignored her.

“Big talk coming from someone whose family name isn’t even recognized in the wizarding world. Who’s going to make the Snape name famous, Snivelly, a little half-blood like you?”

“You bet I will, and it will matter a damn sight more than yours!”

“Why do you keep this up, Snivelly? You know it never ends well for you.” Sirius reached for his wand.

Harry cringed. He hated to see his godfather-to-be behaving like this.

Snape had made a slight tactical error. His own wand was lying on the other end of the table. But he must have known from hard experience that Sirius Black never reached for his wand as an idle threat.

So Severus did the only thing he could have done, and rushed forward to grab Black’s arm before he could pull his wand out of his robes. Harry instinctively jumped out of the way.

“Sirius! Severus! Stop it!” Lily yelled as the two grappled, stumbling into one of the heavy tables. “You’re both being ridiculous!”

But, sadly, logic was no counter for years of pent-up anger. The two young men fell to the ground and rolled. Sirius finally succeeded in getting his wand out, only to have Severus knock it from his hand. For that Black treated Snape to a sock in the nose.

James and Remus rushed into the fray, not to join in, but to try and pull the other two young men apart. Other students, who had begun to arrive for class, hovered in the doorway.

Severus refused to give up his dogged hold on the other boy. Sirius punched him in the ribs. He grabbed Black’s shirt front and hauled him to his feet, planning to get a clean shot at Sirius’ midsection. Anticipating this, Black grabbed Snape by the waist, knocking them both off their feet and backwards into a table.

Unfortunately it was the one with the large jar of preserved fairy wings. As the table tumbled over, the jar followed with the resolute crash of breaking glass. That sent a wave of pink fluid splashing onto Lily’s robes.

Horrified, both boys froze in mid-swing.

There was a look of utter disdain on Lily’s face as she tried to wipe the sticky wings from her robes.

“Of all the pig-headed, moronic, stupid things I have ever seen…”

Faint curls of smoke began to rise from the right sleeve of Lily’s robe.

James grabbed Lily’s dry left sleeve and hauled her, protesting loudly, to the spigot in the back of the room. James shoved Lily’s right arm and shoulder under the faucet, turning the water on full blast. The stench of burning cloth was filling the room.

Lily’s eyes had gone perfectly round.

“It’s starting to burn…James, what is it?”

“Acid. That’s the main ingredient in that preservative solution.”

He used both hands to splash more cold water, but apparently to no avail. As Harry hovered nervously next to them James helped Lily struggle out of the wet robe and returned her arm, now clad only in her shirtsleeve, to the water. Harry could see spots where the acid had already begun to eat away at the fabric.

Black and Snape both stood by, their faces as white as Lily’s blouse.

Lily’s eyes were filling with tears. “It really hurts now. Ow, ow…”

“That’s why we need to dilute the acid,” James mumbled randomly. “That will stop it from working…”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” A loud voice boomed behind them.

In the still-open doorway stood Professor Slughorn, a dainty china teacup still in his hand.

Fortunately he had been teaching too long to be surprised by much, and seeing the fairy wings strewn on the floor he understood the situation in a trice.

Slughorn put down his cup and pushed James aside. He continued to hold Lily’s arm under the faucet.

“Lupin, in the storeroom you’ll find some dragon’s heart powder. Bring it here. Black, Snape, don’t either of you move. I’ll want a word in just a moment.”

Black sent Lily a look full of apology and contrition.

Snape just stood there, his expression inscrutable.

When Remus returned a second later with the correct jar, Slughorn carefully withdrew Lily’s arm from the water.

She bit her lip as her professor rolled up what was left of her sleeve. Though the water had prevented more damage, there were three or four galleon-sized white spots on her skin where the acid had reached it and was slowly eating its way down to the bone. Slughorn hastily shook out a generous layer of dragon powder, mixing it with water to create a thick paste over her arm.

Harry and James both watched intently as some of the tension seemed to leave Lily’s body.

“Professor, will that fix it? Her arm…?” James asked anxiously.

“That will stop the progress of the acid, but we need to take her up to the Infirmary now to assess the damage.”

“Right.” And before Harry could blink, James had swept up Lily (over her protests) into his arms and was heading for the door.

But before he left the room James wheeled, with Lily still in his arms, not on Snape, but on Sirius Black.

“You see, this is exactly what I’m always warning you about, you bloody idiot!” James roared. He jerked his chin towards Snape. “Him, I don’t expect much of, but you! Stop acting like a child!”

Black’s jaw dropped open.

“Move!” James ordered the students in the doorway, and they quickly allowed him and Lily through.

Harry really wanted to follow his parents, but since this was Remus’ memory, could not.

Slughorn turned off the spigot and moved surprisingly fast for a man of his girth. He seized both Black and Snape by the backs of their collars.

There was something almost comical about seeing the short, stout teacher holding onto two much taller young men. But there was nothing humorous in the older man’s expression. Harry knew how much Slughorn valued—and liked—Lily Evans.

“We three are going directly to the Headmaster’s Office,” he told them. “You lot,” he told the other students, “clean up this mess and then get started with the assignment on the board. I shall return soon. Without Mr. Black and Mr. Snape.”

The frightened students hurried to comply as Slughorn marched Sirius and Severus out of the room.

Remus helped the others straighten up the classroom. But when they had finally finished chattering about the fight and were settling down to work, Lupin carefully slipped out the door.

Harry followed him up the stairs. He knew where Remus must be going.

Sure enough, Remus found James sitting outside the Infirmary. James looked pale. His tie was crooked and his hair stood even more on end than usual, as if he’d been anxiously running his hands through it.

“What’s happening?” Remus sat down on the bench next to James, and Harry sat down opposite them.

“Don’t know yet. Madam Pomfrey took Lily straight in and closed the door in my face.”

“Everything will be fine,” Remus said gently. “You thought fast on your feet back there.”

“I actually read up on today’s ingredients,” James said absently. “Remus, what if she’s really hurt…?”

Lupin put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine. Lily’s stronger than she looks. Besides, she’s not the sort to let an injury get her down. You know how stubborn she can be.”

Harry’s dad gave a hollow laugh. “Oh, yes, I do know that.”

The two friends (and Harry) sat there in silence until Madam Pomfrey opened the door and summoned them.

“She’s a very lucky young lady,” the school nurse said bluntly. “I’m keeping her here overnight, but she’ll be back in classes tomorrow.”

“Can we see her?” Remus asked, before James could.

“Just for a few minutes. Her arm’s bandaged to help hold on more of the dragon’s heart powder, so don’t let that alarm you.”

They followed Pomfrey down the aisle of mostly empty beds. Lily was sitting up, propped up against a pillow.

“Quite a way you have of starting the new school year, Miss Evans,” the nurse said tartly. “Five minutes, and then out you both go,” she told Remus and James before sailing off.

James hovered next to Lily’s bed. Remus, for once the more relaxed of the pair, perched on the edge and grinned.

“Pomfrey says you’ll be good as new,” he told her.

“Yes, I was very lucky,” Lily admitted. “Good thing Slughorn had the right ingredients for treating a burn on hand. And,” she said, looking directly at James with her green eyes, “thanks to you, James, for putting my arm under the water. I really should have thought of that myself, but when I get mad I don’t always think straight.” She frowned. “I’m sorry I called you that name.”

James seemed to having trouble speaking. “You called me a name?”

“Yes, a rather rude one, I’m afraid,” Lily said bluntly. “I do apologize. I didn’t realize you were trying to help me. Thank you.”

“Uh, er, I guess I didn’t hear it over the water.”

“That means ‘you’re welcome’,” Remus translated.

“Yeah,” James said quickly. “You’re welcome. Not that you wouldn’t have done the same for me. I mean, you wouldn’t have been dumb enough to knock the table over…not that you’re dumb at all, you know what I mean…”

Harry watched his father’s verbal flailings and wished he could clamp James’ mouth shut.

But Lily didn’t seem to mind. “And thanks for telling off Sirius. I know he’s your best friend.”

“Well, he was being an idiot,” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So, listen, would you bring me the homework assignment from Arithmancy this afternoon?” Lily asked him. “I feel fine, but Pomfrey’s keeping me here anyway, and I don’t want to fall behind. Maybe you could bring it by after dinner, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“Homework?” James blushed a bit. “Sure. Be glad to.”

“OK.” Lily said. “See you then. Bye, Remus. Thanks for coming.”

“Not at all. Glad you’re OK. I know how miserable it is to be up here,” Lupin said with a wry smile.

“C’mon, James, let’s go before Pomfrey has a chance to throw us out.”

James hadn’t taken his eyes off of Lily. “Yeah.”

Remus had to physically tow him out of the Infirmary.

“Did I imagine it, or did Evans just thank me for something?” James marveled outside in the hall.

“You didn’t, and she did.”

“Wow.”

“You saved her life. Well, sort of.” Remus smirked a bit. “It was terribly dashing, you know,” he said in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, a dreadful imitation of a teenage girl. “I’m sure all the girls will be talking about it…”

“Shut it, Remus.” James gently cuffed his friend across the back of his head, but kept smiling.

“This is shaping up to be a better year, I think,” Remus said in his normal voice as they walked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” James agreed.

“I wonder what Dumbledore will do to Sirius?”

“You know, Remus, at the moment, I don’t really care,” James told him, his beaming smile lighting up the whole corridor….

The edges of the scene grew filmy, and Harry reluctantly felt the upward pull that signaled the end of the memory. Reluctantly he gave into it, and with a whoosh he was back in his flat. Ginny was standing next to him with an expression of curiosity on her face.

“Well? Did that help? Did it explain something?”

Harry smiled at his wife. “You know what, I think it did.”

Over the next weeks Harry revisited the memory Lupin had given him several times. He got a kick out of watching the very beginning of his parent’s relationship unfold.

Unfortunately, seeing Remus had not stopped Harry’s nightmares. It had only mixed them up. Now a teenaged Lily sometimes appeared at Godric’s Hallow, and Voldemort sometimes killed Sirius or Remus as well as James.

Either way Harry still woke up in a cold sweat.

So Harry did what he always did when he was in a quandary. He went to his wife.

Ginny was silent for a long moment after he told her about Snape.

“Hmm. On the one hand, I can see Remus’ point. On the other, would you really be able to get past how much you dislike Snape to ask him for a favor? Because that’s what you’d be doing.”

“I know.”

“Plus it would mean going to France, trying to track him down, and who knows how long that would take? The baby’s due in two more months.”

“If the French ministry has a lead on him it might not take that long.”

Ginny was quiet again for a few minutes. “And the idea of all that ugliness between the two of you being dredged up again…I can’t say I want you to go through that. But I think you should go.”

Harry blinked. “You do? You just said…”

“I think you should try. Go to France, Harry. Baby and I will be fine until you get back.”

“But what if…”

Ginny shushed him. “A month, Harry. Take a month, and try to get this settled so we can move on. I need you whole and focused when the baby’s here.”

“All right,” he reluctantly agreed. “One month.”

---

Harry packed a rucksack and his Pensieve, and flew to Paris.

The French equivalent of the Ministry of Magic, Le Départment de La Magie, at first denied they knew anything about the British wizard who’d once been known as Severus Snape.

And if they had ever heard of him, they certainly weren’t going to tell Harry where they’d gotten that information.

But Harry was used to massive bureaucracies, and to the often frustrating lack of communication between magical governments. He stayed in Paris for a week, contacting bureau after bureau, and using all the pull he had as an Auror. Finally, a harried manager gave him a piece of paper. Just one, but on it was the name of one of the Départment’s key informants.

On the advice (or more accurately, the insistence) of the French, Harry left his broom in Paris and traveled Muggle-style, by train, to Lyon. In a shabby quarter of the city he found the pub, Les Quatre Cavaliers, where his informant was to meet him.

If being called “The Four Horsemen” had not been a giveaway that this was a dark wizard’s gathering place, the smoky darkness inside would have convinced Harry. It consisted of only one room, with a bar in the middle. A fireplace contained a roaring fire. There were tables and chairs scattered around the room, all as old and run-down as the building that housed them.

Business seemed to be good. Some of the patrons were drinking; some were playing games of chance on the scarred wooden tables.

Harry approached a rather cross-looking goblin in a jeweled waistcoat, the only goblin in the place. He was sitting by the fire in front of an empty wizard’s chess board.

“Fancy a game?” Harry asked. Those were the words he’d been instructed to use.

The goblin gestured Harry to a chair, and began setting the pieces in place. He crooked his long finger in the direction of the one-eyed bartender, who brought over a bottle of firewhisky and two filthy glasses.

“Don’t suppose you’d care to make a wager?” the goblin asked. Goblins loved to gamble, but in this case it was a cover.

Harry pulled out a small bag of gold galleons. He counted out exactly half of them. The goblin’s eyes greedily followed his hands as Harry tucked the rest of the money away.

“I’ll wager half now,” he said. “If you win the game, you can get the other half.”

The goblin licked his lips. “Deal.”

Harry and the goblin, who said his name was Tighnaught, made a great show of playing chess while they conversed in low tones.

“The first thing you should know is, he doesn’t use his English name any more,” the goblin said, squinting at his rook.

“What name does he use?”

“The names of the family he works for. I say names, because there are two branches to the family. The Italian side is called Amalfi, the French, Lebeau. He sometimes uses one, sometimes the other, and sometimes both.”

Harry deliberately let one of his pawns be captured. “Are they dark wizards, this family?”

“Not exactly. They’re more like---go betweens. Between dark creatures and wizards, and sometimes between Muggles and wizards, too. If you need something done, something negotiated, you go to the Amalfi-Lebeaus. Not that they haven’t produced their fair share of witches and wizards over the centuries. But they aren’t accepted in respectable society.”

Tighnaught dropped his voice. “They have a bad habit of intermarrying with vampires. Several times, the last less than a hundred years ago. The vampire blood mixed in has made them all a bit…strange. And dangerous.”

Vampires were the ultimate outsiders in the magical world. A human family that intermarried with them even once was often viewed as tainted. To do so repeatedly would put them beyond the pale.

“And you know all this because…”

“I’ve worked for them in the past. Probably will in the future, too. But in the meantime a goblin’s got to look out for himself.”

The creature was rapidly clearing Harry’s side of the board as he spoke.

“I see. And where might I find him?”

“The last time I saw him was a few years ago, in a little town east of here, called Brison-Saint-Innocent. He may still be in the area. The mountains hide all sorts things, and the family holds a lot of land up there. But he may also have continued on, over the Swiss or the Italian borders. In which case you won’t find him.”

Harry let his king get chopped to bits by Tighnaught’s. That was probably the fastest game of wizard’s chess he’d ever played, he judged ruefully.

The goblin looked pointedly from Harry to the board and back again.

Harry sighed and pulled out the remainder of his gold. He handed it, pouch and all, to the goblin. “Thanks for the game. I’d better get going.”

The creature carefully counted and stacked his windfall. “Any time, young man. Do stop in again if you need anything else.”

---

From Lyon, Harry took the train east as far as the village the goblin had mentioned. He was well into the Rhône-Alpes region—beautiful but rugged country. Parts of it, where the mountains were more accessible, were hot spots for Muggle skiing. But not here. Here there were only little towns and villages, hugging the mountainsides and tucked into valleys.

From Brison-Saint-Innocent he headed north, figuring Snape would have chosen the most isolated spot possible. Most of the villages were so small they weren’t even marked on Muggle maps, and so isolated neither railroad lines nor highways accessed them.

There was not a trace of magic to be seen in the area—not a wizarding shop or a broomstick or even a glimpse of someone in magical robes. Harry was therefore careful to always keep his wand hidden and the Pensieve locked in its box.

He made inquiries, but no one seemed to have seen or heard of Snape, under that name, or under any of the other ones Tighnaught had suggested. They also seemed to resent that Harry, in his broken French, was bothering them by asking.

As he hiked from place to place, staying the night in dreary little inns, Harry began to feel more and more foolish, and more and more homesick.

What was worse, he was beginning to suspect that this part of the mountains had been made Unplottable. Often Harry would feel he was making progress, only to find the road he was walking on led back into a village he’d already visited.

Harry looked for Snape for three weeks, with no success. It was getting close to the time he’d promised Ginny he’d return home.

On what Harry had decided would be his last Sunday in France, he stopped in a tiny village appropriately named Ciel Gris—“Gray Sky.” It was nestled at the foot of a particularly steep range of mountains. The clouds piled up against them, blocking out a great deal of the sunlight in the valley below.

Harry left his baggage in the only inn in town and turned northwards again. The village only had one road, and it ran through orchards and pastures as it wound its way higher into the mountains.

It was September now, so most of the harvest was in. The lowering sky that had given the village its name and the empty fields gave the place a melancholy air. The higher Harry went, the shabbier the landscape got, with broken fences and untended orchards replacing tidy farmsteads. The road also got rockier. Finally Harry decided to walk in the pasture on one side, where there was grass and he could give his aching feet a break.

That turned out to be a mistake, because as he came out of a small grove of trees Harry found a large bull standing in the grass. The animal took one look at him, and lowered its head to charge.

Of all the possible dangers Harry might encounter on this trip, this honestly had not been one he’d anticipated. He pulled out his wand, and began to back away slowly.

This meant he wasn’t watching where he was going. He caught his heel against a fallen fence rail, and tumbled over backward.

Harry smacked his head against the ground, and for a moment all he could see were stars.

And then, against the gray sky, a face appeared.

It was Snape.

Harry blinked, wondering if perhaps he’d struck his head too hard. But the vision of Snape remained. Maybe Harry had just been spending too much time staring into a Pensieve lately—or maybe he was seeing ghosts.

The eyes were the same black, as was the long, rather limp hair. The shape of the face and the mouth now set into a rather suspicious line were the same. But everything was on a smaller scale, and as he lay in the grass Harry quickly realized that it was a child looking down at him. The nose was only average-sized, and the complexion actually had a bit of a healthy flush about the cheeks. But, still, he rather fancied this was what just Snape might have looked like if he’d been reincarnated as a small girl.

Harry wasn’t sure which was more horrifying: the idea that he was now seeing a child-sized ghost, or the possibility that Snape had actually procreated.

There were now several children around him, chattering loudly in French. One of them had chased the bull off further down the pasture, where it now stood, staring dolefully at them.

The miniature Snape and another girl helped him sit up. Harry could tell from the children’s expressions they were concerned about him, and he quickly waved them off and got to his feet.

“Are you all right?” The dark-haired child asked him in English.

“Yes, just a little bruised,” Harry told her, brushing dirt from his trousers.

She translated what he had said into French for the other children.

An older boy, eight or nine by the look of him, asked something. Harry made out the word “baton.” Frowning, he quickly retrieved his wand from the grass and stuffed it into his pocket.

The black-haired little girl said something in response, and the boy shrugged. With all the excitement over, the other children quickly lost interest in Harry and went back to their play across the road. Now that he wasn’t distracted by half a ton of rampaging bovine, Harry could see that they had been playing in the orchards, climbing the trees and dangling from the branches.

The girl continued to stand next to him. She was now wearing a scowl that Harry had seen hundreds of times before, only on a slightly different face.

“You really shouldn’t use your wand out in the open. People aren’t used to seeing them around here.”

“I see.” Harry began to walk towards the fence, and she trailed alongside.

“I told Jean-Paul it was a stick you were using to scare off Le Grand Chien. That’s the bull,” she explained, looking steadily up at him. “Jean-Paul doesn’t know about wizards, so I think he believed me.”

Harry climbed over the broken-down barrier and the child went under it. As they did so Harry took the opportunity to study her again. She was about the same size as Artemus, which would make her six or seven. He decided to try another tack.

“Perhaps you could help me. I’m looking for someone. An Englishman. A wizard. His name is Amalfi, or LeBeau, or maybe both. Your father, I believe?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you looking for him?”

The frank query caught him a little off guard. “Well, because…I’m a friend of his, you see.”

She smirked.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No,” she said quickly. “But I don’t believe you. He doesn’t have any friends. You might have better said you were looking for my mother. That, I might have believed.” She waved at another girl who had been sitting on a lower tree limb watching their conversation. The other child hoped down and came to join them.

“He says he want to see Father,” Harry’s dark companion explained to her.

“Does he indeed.” This child had fair hair, cut short with heavy bangs, but her eyes were every bit as black. Both girls had the same pointed chins, high cheekbones, and, now, the same frown.

“Good God, there are two of you.” Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Twins, maybe?”

“Yes.” The darker child looked pleased. “Most people don’t figure that out so fast, because we do look a little bit different. I’m Annabelle.” She pointed at her sister. “That’s Isabelle.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Harry Potter.”

If he expected his name to mean anything to the children, clearly it did not. They continued to regard him with polite suspicion.

Harry decided that honesty would be the best policy with these two.

“Listen, I don’t want to hurt him. I knew him, a long time ago. I just want to speak to him. That’s all.”

Isabelle looked at him darkly. “Our mother says you shouldn’t trust wizards.”

“And you already lied once,” Annabelle added.

Harry sighed. No amount of Auror training could ever prepare someone for trying to reason with six-year-olds.

“I’m already hopelessly lost,” he confessed. “It’s pure luck I’ve found you two, and I might wander around in these mountains for another month if you don’t help me. So, will you?”

The twins looked at each other, and then conversed rapidly in French. For the hundredth time on this trip Harry vowed to become fluent in that language as soon as possible.

“All right, we’ve decided,” Annabelle told him finally. “We’ll take you to him.”

Harry brightened. “Thank you…”

“But first you have to give Isabelle your wand.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’re not stupid. A wand is a weapon, and anyone who carries a wand is dangerous. We’ll take you to see our father, but you can’t have your wand. That’s the deal.”

He took a deep breath. “Girls, a wand is not a toy…”

“Of course it isn’t,” Isabelle said. “That’s exactly why we want it. I’ll carry it—I’m better with magical things than Annabelle.”

“She’s more careful,” Annabelle nodded. “It’ll be real safe.”

“Of course I suppose you could use wandless magic on us, but since most people are rubbish at that this is probably safe enough,” Isabelle added.

He took another deep breath, weighing the value of whatever Snape might be able to tell him against the danger of being held hostage to the whims of two preternaturally precocious children. He thought of the shining, happy memory Remus had shared with him. He thought of Ginny, and their baby-to-be.

Harry carefully pulled out his wand. “I’m breaking at least a dozen laws here.”

“We know,” they both chimed.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around the wand several times. “For God’s sake, don’t point it at anything. Not even for fun.”

“We’re not babies. We know that.”

Finally, reluctantly, he handed the bundle to Isabelle. She tucked it primly under her arm.

“OK, now we can go. We were tired of playing anyway.”

The children called goodbye to their playmates. Harry followed them back down the road. The sun was just beginning to set, and there was a growing chill in the air. They walked for perhaps a quarter mile, and went through another broken-down fence into yet another orchard.

“There’s no road here,” Harry observed.

“No, there never has been,” Annabelle said.

As they passed deeper into it Harry realized this was no ordinary orchard. This one was too quiet, too still, without even the rustle of birds to break the silence. Evening fog was beginning to settle on the ground. He suspected they were traveling vaguely uphill, but in a place so obviously protected by magic it was hard to be certain.

“If you don’t know where you’re going in here, where do you end up?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. I expect you’d go round and round in circles and end up back on the road,” Annabelle mused.

They came abruptly out of the orchard, and Harry could see another, narrower road cut into the mountainside in front of them. It reached upward and then twisted sharply off to the left.

“Quite a hike you girls have to the village,” he observed as they started up.

“Oh, there are quicker ways down, if we’re in a hurry,” Isabelle told him. “But this is the safest way to go when nighttime is coming.”

Harry decided not to ask why.

Once the road turned they entered onto what was clearly an avenue, lined with oaks and firs. It wrapped around a small lake, still and black, and on the other side of that lake was a castle.

It was not on a scale anywhere near that of Hogwarts, but it was a castle nonetheless. Part of it arched over the lake with a covered walkway alongside, and there was a single tower by the front gate. Nestled as it was in such a protected location, it was unquestionably a wizard’s castle. Yet there was something in the mellow color of the stones and the symmetry of the design that was also very French. Harry imagined the place must be part of the vast Amalfi and LeBeau families’ holdings. But he also wondered if Snape didn’t stay here because in some way it reminded him of Hogwarts.

“Mother knows we’re coming,” Annabelle told him. “There, you see?” She pointed across the lake, and Harry could see two figures in an open doorway under the arches. “She always knows we’re coming.”

Harry slowed a bit. He knew making contact with Snape after all this time was unwise, and quite possibly dangerous. Given Snape’s connection to this very powerful family (a connection which, if the twins were any sort of evidence, went well beyond merely working for them), he might very well be walking into a great deal of trouble.

But then again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

The path led them to the part of the castle walkway built out over the lake. This was clearly not the main entrance, but rather one used by the family for daily comings and goings.

As Harry approached he could see Snape, eyes narrowed, watching him.

Isabelle brushed past Harry. She gave Snape the bundle containing Harry’s wand. “He says he’s here to see you, Father.”

“Does he indeed?”

Snape had aged. Of course, that was to be expected--like Remus he was now well into middle age. His arrow-straight black hair was shorter and liberally sprinkled with gray, and his nose was as prominent as ever. But it was more than that. Time seemed to have etched into him an air of sorrow and gravity that had not been there before.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about seeing Snape again after so many years. As Ginny had feared he could indeed feel all the old anger and resentment beginning to bubble up inside of him. Harry had never, would never, forgive Snape for all he had done.

He quickly tamped down on those feelings. He stood still, and waited to see what would happen.

Annabelle had gone to stand next to her mother. Ms. Amalfi-LeBeau (or was it Mrs.?) was watching Harry closely. She was tall, fair-haired and dark-eyed. The children had gotten their high cheekbones and narrow chin from her. In fact, she was attractive enough that Harry could see no reason in the world she would have chosen Snape as a father for her children. But then, if what Tighnaught had told him was true, perhaps the Amalfi-LeBeau predilection for vampires might explain any attraction Snape held for her.

“Girls, come inside now. Your dinner will get cold,” she said without taking her eyes off of Harry.

“But, Mum…!” Annabelle began, only to be swiftly quieted with a look from both her parents.

Isabelle was obviously the less daring of the twins. She obediently followed her mother and sister inside without as much as a backwards glance at Harry.

Harry and Snape were left standing alone outside as the sun curled down behind the mountains.

“You weren’t easy to find,” Harry told him.

“That was the idea.”

“Most people think you’re dead.” Harry thought hard for something else to say. “Look, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

“Really.”

Harry sighed. “You’ve got my wand. You know I’m not a threat.”

“Oh, you’re always a threat, Potter,” Snape said silkily. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Can we at least go inside so I can explain why I’m here?” Harry said exasperatedly. “Then if you don’t want to help me you can chuck me out.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

But Snape turned on his heel and went into the castle, leaving Harry to follow behind him. The door under the archway led into a wide hallway draped with tapestries. They descended a short flight of stairs. Snape wasn’t wearing his black robes, but his black coat still seemed to billow about him as he walked. He finally stopped and threw open a door, gesturing for Harry to enter.

He did so, cautiously. Snape still had Harry’s wand tucked under his arm.

The room turned out to be a sort of study, with a fireplace at one end and stacks of books all over the painted floor.

“State your business, Potter.”

Harry sat down in a chair by the fire, narrowly missing a teetering pile of leather-bound manuscripts.

“First off I want to say that I’m not here by choice. I would have been perfectly happy to never know where you were or what had happened to you.”

“I might say the same.” Snape continued to stand by the open door, watching Harry warily.

“I need to know everything you know about my parents.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“Hear me out. I’m not talking about the old stories, the ones about my dad. I just need any more bits and pieces you know, about who they were, what they were really like.”

“Then why don’t you ask Lupin? I’m sure he could tell you delightful stories about the glory days.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and tried to stay patient. It was clear time had not diminished Snape’s anger. Or his penchant for sarcasm.

“I did ask Remus. He told me everything he could remember, and gave me one of his memories for a Pensieve. But even he doesn’t know everything about them. You were there, too.”

“Usually not by choice.”

“But you were there. There isn’t anyone else to ask—not that knew them so well as you two.”

Snape folded his long-fingered hands and was silent.

“It was actually Remus who suggested I find you. Only a few people know you’re not dead. None of them know where you are or how to find you. That’s been my own doing.”

“Yes, you always were terribly clever, weren’t you, Potter? And how do I know you won’t lead old enemies straight to my doorstep, hmm?”

It was very like Snape to jump immediately to the wrong conclusion.

“I have nothing to gain from doing that. The Ministry is no longer charging you with what…happened to Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry was pleased to see the muscle under Snape’s left eye twitch when the old wizard was mentioned. He decided not to press the matter, though he was sorely tempted to do so.

“You have my word no one else will know where you are.”

“Oh, that makes me feel much better, Potter.” Snape swooped around the room. He sat in another chair as far away from Harry as was possible without being outside in the hallway.

“You and I knew each other for…how long, Potter?”

“Almost seven years,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“Exactly. And at any time did I ever once give you the idea that I was interested in sharing with you any memories I had of your parents?”

Harry remembered the incident with the Pensieve in his fifth year. “No, you did not.”

“Then why would I help you now? Especially when you’ve shown up here, uninvited and, I need hardly say, most unwelcome?”

Harry smiled. “Because you have children now.”

Snape blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I wasn’t sure before what I would say when you asked me that—and I knew you would. You’re still pretty predictable that way. But I know now. You have children. And, as appalling as I may find that fact, and I do find it appalling, you should also be able to understand why I want to find out everything I can about my parents.”

Sitting back in his chair, Harry was pleased to see he’d rendered his old Potions master momentarily speechless.

He knew from the Occlumency lessons he’d been forced to take with him that Snape’s relationship with his own parents—or at least his father—had been pretty wretched. But the two children Harry had met today both seemed reasonably healthy and well-adjusted, if inordinately suspicious of wizards. Harry had no way of knowing what Snape was like as a father, but he doubted the children were suffering from his presence. Their mother did not strike Harry as the sort of woman who would tolerate any potential threat to her offspring. If she did not believe Snape should be here, he would not be here.

That, now that Harry thought about it, must mean she did not regard him as a threat, either. What had Annabelle said, ‘Mother always knows we’re coming’? Did that mean she had known Harry was with them? Was she a witch, or was it the vampire blood in her veins?

Harry stayed silent, giving Snape plenty of time to think of a cutting retort. But there wasn’t one forthcoming. Harry thought this was a good sign.

“Look, I’ve taken a room down in the village,” he offered amenably. “Why don’t you think about it and let me know tomorrow morning if you decide to help me.”

“I think that is an excellent idea.”

Harry looked up to see Ms. Amalfi-LeBeau standing in the doorway.

Snape’s mouth had settled into a grim line, but he nodded slightly.

“Good.” Harry stood. “I’ll be going, then.” He walked over to Snape and held out his hand. “I’ll need my jacket and my wand.”

Snape stared up at him for a long moment. Then slowly, reluctantly, he handed Harry’s wrapped wand back to him.

For a moment, with Harry’s hand on one end of the wand and Snape’s still on the other, Harry knew he could strike down Snape. He could do it, and although he probably wouldn’t get out of here alive if he did, no one would blame him for it. Harry knew that, and he knew Snape knew it, too. And, oddly, that was enough.

Snape let go of the wand. Harry tucked it back into his pocket and put his jacket back on.

“I’ll walk with you as far as the road,” the woman offered. “It’s very easy to get lost at night.”

“Yes, that’s what the twins said,” Harry said pleasantly. He looked one last time at his old nemesis. “Goodbye, Professor. I don’t expect we’ll meet again.”

Snape cleared his throat. “Let us hope not.”

As he went to the door Harry couldn’t resist asking how old the girls were.

“Six,” Ms. Amalfi-LeBeau confirmed.

“That’s a good age. A friend of mine, Lupin, has a little boy just that age,” Harry said with a smile. As he left the room he was pleased to hear Snape grunt in disgust at this news.

Harry followed her outside, and they walked together in silence for some time. It was full dark now, and there was only the faintest smear of a moon to give them light, but she seemed to know exactly where she was going. The path that had been complicated to follow going uphill was now nearly impossible to navigate. It seemed to have bent itself into more twists and turns than before. And, Harry mused, it probably had.

“This place, this house, is Unplottable, isn’t it?” he finally asked.

“It is. My great-grandfather’s doing, I believe. He was very good.”

“Obviously,” Harry said appreciatively. “Most impressive.”

Silence fell again between them.

“The girls are not allowed to go out at night, otherwise they should have come to say goodbye,” their mother finally offered as they reentered the enchanted orchard.

“You’re not angry at them for leading me here?” Harry asked. “He won’t be angry at them?”

“No. They have been raised to be suspicious of witches and wizards. But they are bright enough to use their best judgment in identifying potential threats. Obviously they did not consider you a threat.”

“I’m flattered, I guess.”

“You should be.”

They emerged back onto the road. Here the moon seemed to shine brighter than up on the mountainside.

“You’ll be quite safe,” she assured Harry. “There is absolutely nothing magical about the rest of this valley. But do watch out for livestock.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “They told you about that, did they?”

“They did. Goodbye, Harry Potter. As you told Sevrè, I do not expect we shall ever meet again.”

Harry smiled. “Goodbye, ma’am.”

She disappeared back among the trees, and Harry was left alone on the road. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep warm, and started the walk back to the village.

Harry woke up early the next morning, anxious to get home to Ginny. He’d checked in with her briefly last night, and she had seemed fine, but Harry didn’t want to be away a day longer than he had to be.

From the window of the otherwise empty dining room he watched the village waking up for the day. The few shops along the main street opened for business, and some of the village children walked by on their way to school. One of two of them, who must have been playing in the orchards yesterday, recognized Harry and waved. He waved back.

As the hours ticked by, Harry grew restless. He wasn’t sure how long it would take him to hike back down to Brison-Saint-Innocent, or how long it would take to catch a train from there to Paris. He tried to ask his host how often Paris-bound trains ran through the area, but the man just shrugged and cleared away Harry’s plate.

Harry waited until almost ten, and then decided he could wait no longer. He hadn’t expected Snape to show up himself, of course, but he could have sent a message by Owl Post or something. The older wizard must have decided not to cooperate.

Harry couldn’t say he was surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. He knew this trip had been a long shot.

He packed his rucksack, and made sure the Pensieve was secure in its carrying case. He settled up his bill, and stepped back onto the village’s main road. He had to admit that with the sun shining the place wasn’t quite as unappealing as it had been yesterday. But with the towering mountains on all sides and the difficulty of access, Harry didn’t expect this little town would ever become the latest tourist destination.

If Snape wanted to stay hidden, he’d chosen a pretty good place.

He walked down the road a ways, only to hear small feet thundering behind him. He turned to see the Amalfi-Lebeau twins running after him.

“Good, we caught you!” Isabelle told him as she skidded to a stop.

“Yeah, you must have gotten an early start,” her sister gasped.

“I’ve got to be getting home,” Harry told them. He studied them in the sunlight. They really weren’t bad-looking children. Mercifully, they appeared to take after their mother, rather than their father, in both appearance and temperament.

“That’s too bad,” Isabelle said with a frown. “We were hoping…we don’t meet many other wizards, you see.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you,” Harry said truthfully.

“Oh, well,” Annabelle shrugged. She appeared to be the more philosophical of the twins. “Anyway, we have something for you. From Father.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You do?”

Isabelle produced a small wooden box. “He said to bring this to you. We thought we’d have more time, so we stopped to play on the way here. Sorry.”

“That’s OK.” Harry took the box. It fit neatly onto his outstretched hand. There was a small brass latch on the front. He looked steadily at the two children. “Thank you. I really appreciate you delivering this to me.”

“Glad to do it. Got us out of lessons for a few hours,” Annabelle said.

Harry laughed. “Then I’m happy to have been of assistance.”

“We’d better get home. Mother will be looking for us,” Isabelle sighed.

“Of course. Off you go, then. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” As they ran back to the village, both girls turned and waved back at Harry.

As he tucked the small box into his bag, Harry’s mood brightened. Hopefully, he’d gotten what he came for, and without having to see Snape again. That could only be considered a bonus.

And he’d seen the twins one last time. In spite of their rather unfortunate parentage, they’d helped Harry twice in as many days.

He had to admit he was actually kind of sorry he wouldn’t be seeing them again.

---

Harry carefully locked the door to his private train compartment, and lowered all the shades. He had a few hours before the train would reach Paris—more than enough time to look at Snape’s first two memories.

He pulled down the small folding table from the wall so that it fit neatly between the two seats. Harry then got down the two additional pieces of baggage, one large, one small, he was now carrying with him. He tapped the larger box with his wand to unlock it and removed the Pensieve from its protective case. He set it in the middle of the table. Then he opened the small wooden box the twins had given him.

Nestled inside were three matching vials made of blue glass. Inside each one Harry could see the curling tendrils of a memory.

Were they really Snape’s memories?

Or had he decided to double-cross Harry after all?

“Only one way to find out,” Harry said to himself, selecting the first vial.

He tipped it into the Pensieve and in an instant it joined the swirling light. Harry took a deep breath and leaned over the shallow basin.

This time he landed on a rolling green lawn. Harry looked about him, and saw the thickly forested hills around Hogwarts. In front of him loomed one of that great edifice's steep stone walls.

Snape, a Snape a few years younger than the one he’d seen in Remus’ memory, was hovering behind a holly bush. He still had that pale, stunted look about him, and his shabby robes were a size too big for his thin frame. Harry reckoned this must be Snape’s third or fourth year.

But what on earth was he doing? In the sky overhead Harry could see that the sun was beginning to descend into the west. There were always serious repercussions for any students caught outside the castle after dark. Surely Snape knew that. So why was he hiding?

The answer became clear a moment later, when, across the grass, Harry saw Madam Pomfrey with a very young Remus Lupin. She had one hand on the boy’s shoulder, and appeared to be saying something soothing to him as they walked. Remus looked miserable.

Oh, no. Harry knew what memory this had to be. He then felt rather foolish for being surprised. He should have expected Snape would want Harry to see this.

From his hiding place in the bushes Snape watched as Madam Pomfrey approached the Whomping Willow. She pulled out her wand, said some kind of incantation Harry could not hear, and the Willow’s flailing limbs went still. The nurse and her charge went inside, and a few minutes later Pomfrey emerged without Lupin by her side.

Harry looked over his shoulder at Snape. Harry knew burning curiosity when he saw it. Snape’s black eyes followed Pomfrey as she went back into the castle, and Harry could see him mentally debating what action to take next.

But the Whomping Willow had already begun to whomp again, its powerful branches thrashing against both ground and sky.

Severus’ shoulders slumped in disappointment. Clearly understanding that his questions would not be answered tonight, Snape slouched back inside through the main doors.

The front hall was nearly deserted, but Harry could hear loud laughter and chatter from the Great Hall. All the other students must be at dinner. And poor Remus had to sit all alone in the Shrieking Shack, waiting for his terrible transformation to begin.

“Well, hello, Snivelly,” a smooth voice said.

Both Harry and Snape looked up to see a young, but still very handsome, Sirius Black sitting on the staircase railing. He was using a spare quill to clean under his fingernails. When he saw he had Snape’s attention he tossed it aside, jumped down, and stood before him.

“Lucky you came in—another few minutes and the sun will be down. You would have been in violation of the rules.”

“Since when have you ever cared about the rules, Black?” Severus sneered.

“Now, Severus, you know Dumbledore makes these rules for our own good,” Black said, his face the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

“Leave me alone, Black. I’m going in to dinner.” Snape turned on his worn-down heel to leave, but Sirius’ next words made him pause.

“I expect you were following old Pomfrey and Lupin, weren’t you, Snivelly? I’ve seen you do that before. Last month, as a matter of fact. Couldn’t find a way in to the Whomping Willow, though, could you?”

Snape scowled. “What do you care?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Sirius said breezily. “Personally I don’t think it’s fair that Remus gets special treatment, but…” He shrugged exaggeratedly. “...what are you going to do?”

“Special treatment?”

“I mean, if I“ were Headmaster I’d make sure the staff didn’t play favorites, even if it’s one of my friends who benefits.”

Harry thought it was all rather pathetic. Young Snape looked like a dog that had lost its bone and then suddenly found it again. “What sort of special treatment?”

“I can’t say.”

Severus was growing impatient. “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you report it?”

“Can’t. Sworn to secrecy. Wizard’s oath and all that. You know how it is. But,” Sirius said slowly, as if the idea was just occurring to him, “you could spread the word.”

“Me?” Snape asked cautiously.

“Yeah. Go have a look, and then you can report back to Dumbledore what’s going on. I’m sure he’d like to know Remus is out of bounds after sunset.”

“I don’t believe you,” Snape said quickly. “You’d never turn in one of your rotten friends.”

Black shrugged. “Suit yourself. But, hey, if you change your mind, all you have to do is poke the knot on the willow with a long stick, and you’ll be able to get in. I think I’ll go to dinner now—smells good. See you around, Snivelly.”

With his hands in his pockets Sirius strolled into the Great Hall.

Snape followed him in a few moments later, and for a time Harry hoped that perhaps he’d misinterpreted events. Maybe this wasn’t that fateful evening after all.

Snape sat down at the Slytherin table, but the food he chose remained untouched on his plate. He sat near the end, and although Harry could see other future Death Eaters at the table (including the Lestrange brothers) no one spoke to Snape. He just sat there using his fork to draw lines in his mashed potatoes.

Snape remained there long after most of the other students had gone back to their dormitories. When the room was finally nearly empty Severus looked around him carefully and then slipped out. He headed, not for the Slytherin common room, but for the main door.

Harry sighed heavily. So much for his hope.

Snape slunk back over the lawn and down the hill. The shadows were rapidly deepening from dark purple to inky black. When it got dark at Hogwarts, it really got dark. There were too many clouds overhead to see the full moon yet, but Harry knew it had to be there.

Severus paused to search under the other, safer trees until he found a long, stout stick.

Carefully, carefully, he slid up to the Whomping Willow.

The tree wasn’t fooled by his stealth. It swung one of its mighty branches directly at the boy, who rolled out of the way just in time.

Snape was faster than Harry would have credited. Stick in hand, he quickly darted under another limb and managed to jab the knot in the willow’s trunk.

The branches were stilled for the moment. Snape ducked under them and slid down into the hole. Harry shook his head and dove after the boy.

In the tunnel Snape stood up, and so did Harry. Snape pulled out his wand.

“Lumos!” he said in a hoarse whisper. In the faint light from the wand Harry could see that Snape’s face was even paler than usual.

And no wonder. Not only was the dank tunnel dark, but sounds from the Shrieking Shack were reverberating down the passage--creaks, and moans, and a strange shuffling, grunting sound.

Lupin must have already transformed.

Even though Harry knew Snape would come through this and go on to be a thorn in his side for years to come, he couldn’t help constantly looking over his shoulder, hoping any moment to see James.

Snape crept along the passageway. He kept repeating the Lumos spell under his breath to keep the wand lit. He was panting with fear, and his bone-white forehead shone with sweat.

The noises were getting louder.

But still Snape inched forward. Harry had to give the kid credit—he was really determined. Or at least really determined to get Lupin into trouble.

Snape had almost reached the twisting, rickety stairs to the Shack when Harry finally heard a faint thump behind them. It signaled James’ arrival.

“Severus!” James called, his voice echoing down the passage. “Stop where you are! Don’t go any further!”

Snape froze for a split second. Then Harry saw him sneer in James’ direction, and start up the stairs.

James was running full tilt down the passage, his shoes sliding on the mossy floor. “Severus! I said stop!”

The race was on. Severus was climbing fast, but James was a Quidditch player—stronger and probably a lot healthier than Snape was. He vaulted up the stairs three at a time and managed to throw his arms around Snape before he reached the half-open door.

“Go back, go back!” James cried, pulling at Snape with all his might.

The thinner boy struggled furiously. “Get off me, Potter!”

They lost their footing, and tumbled back down the stairs, landing in a heap of robes and limbs.

James recovered quickly and grabbed Snape under the arms. He literally dragged the other boy backwards down the passage. Snape kicked and swore, but he was no match for James.

Behind him Harry heard the door creak open. He could just see the lumbering, furry shape of werewolf Lupin. It must have sensed the boys, because it snuffled at the door and let loose a howl that, in the confined space under the Shrieking Shack, made Harry’s hair stand on end. On all four paws the werewolf, licking its muzzle, began to descend the stairs.

Even though he knew the werewolf would not be able to sense him, Harry dashed back past his father.

“Bloody hell!” James swore. He let go of Snape, who was now staring, transfixed, at the werewolf at the other end of the passageway.

James shoved him roughly ahead of him. “Move!”

Snape began to half-climb, half-scramble up the opening under the willow. James got behind him and gave him a mighty shove, and the two boys tumbled out into the night air. Harry quickly followed them.

They lay panting on the ground. James looked like he wanted to be sick. So did Snape.

Behind him in the passageway Harry could hear werewolf Lupin shuffling and scraping, but the animal was far too big to follow them outside through the narrow opening.

At once James and Severus (and Harry) seemed to realize that the willow was not trying to kill them. Both boys rolled over, to find themselves nose-to-slipper with their Headmaster, Dumbledore.

The wizard stared down at his two students with all the gravitas of the most serious Wizengamot judge.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dumbledore said calmly, but with a glint of steel in his eyes.

James and Snape both stumbled shakily to their feet.

“Headmaster, we…” James began.

Severus quickly cut him off. “He,” he said, pointing a finger at James, “tried to kill me, Headmaster.”

James looked stunned. “What?”

“James Potter and Sirius Black just tried to kill me.” Snape had started to shiver, but he stood his ground.

James exploded. “You bloody idiot! I just saved your life!”

Dumbledore held up a hand, and both boys were immediately silent.

“We shall not discuss this here. Come with me to my office, at once.”

Dumbledore seemed to sail across the lawn as if he didn’t have a care in the world. James and Severus stumbled along behind him, shooting deadly glances at each other but too cowed to speak.

They were met by Professor McGonagall, who had Sirius Black by the scruff of his neck. Sirius looked disappointed to see Snape again.

“Everything all right, Albus?” McGonagall asked softly.

“For the moment, Minerva. Please take Mr. Black up to Gryffindor Tower. I will speak to him later. Mr. Potter and Mr. Snape are coming with me.”

“Of course, Headmaster.”

Harry’s father and Snape trudged after Dumbledore. When they finally came to the stairway outside his office, the Headmaster cleared his throat.

“Jelly babies,” he said clearly.

All three mounted the stairs and they were rotated upwards into the Headmaster’s office.

It looked just the same as Harry remembered. Fawkes the phoenix was snoozing on his perch. He was looking a little raggedy, but Harry smiled at him. He missed Fawkes.

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk.

“Now,” he said to the two young men. “You may begin.”

“James Potter and Sirius Black tried to kill me!” Snape burst out again. There was a hysterical edge to his voice. No doubt the reality of what had just happened was beginning to sink in.

“Why, you little…”

Dumbledore held up his hand again. “You will be able to speak in a moment, Mr. Potter. Let us hear Mr. Snape out.”

“Potter and Black tricked me into following Remus Lupin into the Whomping Willow, so Lupin---that, that thing, that werewolf ---could kill me. They’ve been trying to kill me for years, and tonight they almost succeeded!”

“I see.” Dumbledore tipped his head down, so he could look over his spectacles at Harry’s dad. “And how do you respond to those charges, James?”

“Headmaster, Sniv—uh, Severus has been following Remus around for the last few months, wanting to know where he went when the moon was full. He spies on people, always hanging about corners and under stairways. Tonight Sirius caught him spying again. Sirius was just having him on, sir, honest. All he said was how to stop the willow from whomping. I know Sirius, sir. He never thought Snape would actually go through with it.”

Snape snorted loudly at James’ protestations, but the Headmaster continued to look grave.

“And at what point did you yourself become involved in this sad business?”

James took another deep breath. “Sirius mentioned to me what he’d done, sir. Thought it was a good joke. It was only when we saw Snape going outside that we realized what he was going to try to do. I ran after him, and got to him just in time.”

“And why did you not alert the school authorities instead, Mr. Potter? Did you actually expect that you and Severus would be able to take on a full-grown werewolf by yourselves?”

James looked stunned for a moment.

“No, I…Well, I guess to be honest I didn’t really think about it, Headmaster. I just knew I had to get to Snape before Lupin did.”

“That was an exceptionally dangerous thing you did tonight, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore finally said. “Exceptionally dangerous, but also exceptionally brave.”

Snape’s head, which had begun to sink down a bit so he could hide his face behind his curtain of hair, snapped up again.

“What?!”

“Severus, what Mr. Black did was thoughtless, cruel, and irresponsible, but I do not believe he actually intended to kill you. Mr. Black often does not think about the consequences of his actions—something which, I promise you, his punishment shall take into account. But I do believe you are being unduly hard on Mr. Potter because of your past treatment of one another.”

“Me? Hard on him? On him?” a flabbergasted Snape repeated.

“I think if you will examine the facts you will have to concede that James did not have to act as he did. He might have not mentioned Sirius’ actions at all, in which case I am afraid, Severus, you might not be standing here with us right now. He might also have come to me or to Professor McGonagall for aid, a delay which would probably also have cost you your life. In saving you Mr. Potter did indeed act with no thought of his own safety, and with good intentions. You owe him your life,” Dumbledore said softly.

Snape’s eyes were shuttered, his mouth compressed into a thin line. “So now I’m supposed to acknowledge him as a hero?”

“You see what he’s like, Professor?” James complained loudly. “You just can’t reason with him.”

Dumbledore waved away James’ statement, focusing instead on young Snape.

“You owe James Potter a life debt, Severus,” he repeated calmly but firmly. “That is not something to be casually pushed aside because you are angry with him.”

Snape stared at his shoes, but his body language was frosty.

“As you wish, Headmaster.”

“Good.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “Neither of you will ever speak of what has occurred this evening.”

“Sir?” James asked.

“You, James, will not tell anyone about Sirius’ actions, or about your rescue of Severus. I will hold Mr. Black to the same terms. And you, Severus, will not tell anyone about Remus Lupin’s unfortunate condition. If either of you disregard my orders on this matter I will be most seriously displeased.”

Both boys nodded solemnly.

“Yes, sir,” James said softly.

“Yes, Headmaster,” Snape repeated, but with a defiant glint still in his black eyes.

“And if I have either of you up here again this year it will be grounds for immediate expulsion from Hogwarts. Do I make myself understood?”

They nodded again.

“Then you are both dismissed.”

The two boys kept a wary distance from one another on the stairs. Neither spoke until they again reached the lower hallway.

“Well, I guess that wasn’t as bad as it might have been,” James said.

Snape just stared at him murderously.

“What now?” James sighed and held out his arms. “All right, Severus, let’s have it.”

“I don’t owe you a life debt!” Snape hollered at the top of his lungs. James winced, and even Harry cringed a bit at his volume.

“I don’t care what Professor Dumbledore says! I don’t owe you anything! If you were lying broken and bleeding at my feet I wouldn’t lift a finger to help you!”

James just shook his head. “Fine, Snape. You don’t owe me anything. I’m going to bed.”

But Snape’s wrath was not to be cooled so easily.

“I don’t, do you hear me, James Potter?” He called after the other boy’s retreating back. “I don’t! I don’t!”

In Snape’s second memory, Harry landed on a rather ordinary looking street. The houses were old, Victorian brick, but well-kept with neat, postage-stamp sized lawns.

Men and women were making their ways towards one house in particular. Its door was dressed with black crepe. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and lit fairy lights hung from a few of the other houses on the block. Harry knew it either had to be just before, or just after, Christmas. But which Christmas?

He saw the full-grown Snape, dressed head-to-toe in black, as usual, among the arrivals. Harry followed him up the stairs.

A solemn-faced witch let them through the door and into a tiny front parlour filled with black-clad wizards and witches. For a brief moment Harry wondered if Snape was showing him a Death Eater meeting.

But then he saw the framed photograph set up at one end of the room. It showed a middle-aged, rather ordinary-looking wizard smiling and waving at the camera. There was a large wreath at the foot of the photo. Harry realized he was at some sort of a memorial service.

As he followed Snape around the room, Harry caught bits and pieces of the guests’ conversations.

“Poor old Fenwick,” one witch sniffed loudly. “He was always one to stick by his principles.”

“They say they didn’t even find enough of Benjy to bury him,” one young wizard whispered to another. “That’s why there’s no coffin.”

Harry recognized the name. Benjy Fenwick had been part of the original Order of the Phoenix. He had been killed by Death Eaters before Harry had been born.

Harry noticed that people were giving Snape a lot of space as he moved through the room. Was the wizarding world already suspicious of him, or did people just not like him?

Snape seemed to be looking for someone in particular.

In the back parlour there were more people and a table of food. A large punchbowl filled with a bubbly purple liquid took up another corner.

Here, Harry was relieved to see his mum and dad standing with Professor Dumbledore as the old wizard sipped a glass of punch. Clearly, some members of the Order had come to pay their respects to their fallen comrade.

Snape walked right up to Dumbledore. “Headmaster. It is good to see you again.”

Harry shivered a bit to see Dumbledore so close to the man who would ultimately take his life. But of course that sad event was still years away.

Dumbledore smiled at Snape. He seemed genuinely pleased to see his former student.

“Severus. It’s been a long time. You remember James and Lily Potter?”

“Of course.”

“Snape,” James said shortly.

“Potter.” Snape nodded his head in Lily’s direction. “Mrs. Potter.”

Somehow Snape made “Mrs. Potter” sound like an insult, but Lily only nodded back at him.

“Headmaster, I wonder if I might have a word?”

“Of course.” Dumbledore turned to Harry’s mother. “Lily, my dear, would you mind holding my punch while Severus and I have a chat?”

“No, of course not.” She accepted it, and the great wizard patted her hand.

“But don’t drink any of it,” he told her gently. “It has quite a kick—old Fenwick’s special recipe. Not good for you in your condition,” he added in a low tone so only Lily (and Harry) could hear.

Harry’s mother blushed.

Harry stared at her. Lily Potter was as beautiful as ever, but he didn’t see any obvious signs of pregnancy. He counted backwards on his fingers. He’d been born in July, and if this was Christmas that would mean she was only a few weeks pregnant.

With him. What an odd thought!

Snape led Dumbledore off into another room, a library. He pulled the sliding pocket doors shut behind them.

“What can I do for you, Severus?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

“Headmaster, I do hesitate to approach you at such a solemn time…”

Harry laughed cynically. But of course they didn’t hear him.

“But I have not had a chance to speak with you alone in some time.”

“I have been very busy, Severus. The war makes demands on us all.”

Was Harry imagining it, or was Dumbledore’s tone a little more pointed than usual when he said this? He must have known Snape was a Death Eater. Although, if Harry had his chronology right, this conversation was taking place almost a year before Snape would approach Dumbledore with his offer to “spy” for the Order of the Phoenix. And before Dumbledore would make the terrible mistake of agreeing to it.

Snape did not react. “Of course. Headmaster, I wanted to know if it is true that several teaching positions as Hogwarts will become vacant next summer.”

Dumbledore reached out and straightened the items on the mantelpiece.

“Yes, that is true. In such unsettled times as these it is becoming harder and harder to convince staff to stay.” He picked up a miniature version of a cannon, which turned out to be a lighter. “How ingenious!” he chortled. “Muggle-made, I am sure. Fenwick’s father was a Muggle, you know, Severus.”

“No, I did not know that, Headmaster,” Snape said. “Now, about the positions…”

“Divination, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore told him.

“I was thinking, Headmaster, that I might put myself forward for the Dark Arts position.”

“You, Severus? Why, I never knew you had aspirations to teach.”

Snape tried to smile. “I would consider it an honor to be able to impart a little of my knowledge to the next generation.”

Harry laughed again. In addition to all his other faults, Snape had been a terrible professor.

Dumbledore’s expression remained pleasantly neutral.

“Well, of course, since the positions have yet to be formally announced I cannot make you any promises, Severus. But of course, if you think teaching is something you might like to do, then by all means, apply.”

“Thank you, Headmaster. And I can count on your recommendation?”

Dumbledore was silent long enough for Snape to squirm a bit. It was as if the teacher were mentally weighing his former student, and Snape feared that he would be found wanting.

“Yes, Severus. You may,” Dumbledore finally said.

Snape visibly relaxed. “Thank you. That means a great deal to me.”

If Harry didn’t know better, he would have sworn Snape was sincere.

“I had best get back to the gathering.” Dumbledore paused before he opened the door. “You know, I have always seen great potential in you, Severus. I hope you will come and see me soon. Perhaps we can talk more about your future plans then?”

“Of course.”

Dumbledore left the room, and Snape followed a few moments later.

He found Lily Potter blocking his path.

“I want to speak to you, Severus.”

Snape looked at Dumbledore’s retreating back, and sighed. “Fine.”

Lily pulled him over into an empty corner.

“You shouldn’t be bothering Dumbledore at a time like this,” Lily scolded. “Benjy Fenwick was a good friend of his, and he’s very upset about his loss.”

“If Dumbledore was willing to speak to me I don’t see what business it is of yours.”

“I’m making it my business. Has Dumbledore ever been anything but kind to you?”

Snape looked momentarily taken aback. “No.”

“Then you should think a little more about him. This terrible war, Severus…” Harry’s mother shook her head. “It’s taking so much out of him. I swear he’s aged twenty years in the last two. Didn’t you see how white his beard is getting?”

Harry was surprised to see that Lily’s words appeared to be having a bit of an impact on Snape.

“Perhaps my timing was a little…off,” Snape finally admitted in a low tone. “But it was nothing of importance. I only wanted to ask him about a job.”

Snape was clearly sorry he’d let that slip. Lily raised her eyebrows.

“A job? What sort of a job could Dumbledore…Oh, no. Teaching at Hogwarts?” To her credit, Lily didn’t laugh in Snape’s face. She just looked puzzled. “Why would you want to do that?”

Snape lost his temper. “Because some of us weren’t born with bank vaults full of gold galleons!” When several heads turned in their direction Snape lowered his voice. “Some of us have to make our own way in the world, and other people should really just let us get on with it!”

“That was a swipe at James, I suppose,” Lily said calmly. “I know he was horrible to you, but you were children. Can’t you let that go, Severus? Can’t you move on with your life?”

Snape pulled himself up to his full height and looked down his very long nose at Harry’s mother.

“No.”

Lily looked at him seriously.

“That’s very sad.”

“I’m touched you care.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. I mean it. It’s very sad, because I don’t think you’ll be able to move past this unless you forgive James. He forgave you years ago.”

“I never asked for that pompous fool’s forgiveness. I never did anything to him.”

This time Lily did laugh. “Oh, please. That leg-lock hex in second year that made him fall down the stairs? Replacing his wormwood with wolfsbane so he melted his cauldron in third year? Bewitching his broom during that Quidditch Cup game…”

“All right, all right. I did not come here to listen to a list of my transgressions, thank you very much.”

“My point is, James has gotten on with his life. But you’re still holding on to all this anger. It’s going to poison you if you’re not careful.”

“Your concern is duly noted,” Snape said coldly. “Ah, look, here is your husband.”

James arrived with a woman’s cloak slung over his arm.

“Ready to go, dear? Alistair says he’ll share a cab home with us.” James didn’t say anything to Snape.

Lily took her cloak and began to fasten it about her slender throat. “That’ll be fine.”

She took her husband’s arm, but halfway out of the room she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at Snape.

“Please think about what I said, Severus. You’ll be glad if you do.”

Snape said something under his breath Harry couldn’t quite hear. He suspected it was something rather rude.

Harry watched his parents leave, and noticed Snape was now left standing alone in the back parlour. No one else seemed inclined to talk to him, or even to notice he was there.

Harry began to feel the upward pull of the Pensieve, and reluctantly gave into it. Before he did so, however, he looked at the memory-Snape.

“You really should have listened to her,” Harry told him, even though he knew Snape couldn’t hear his voice. “Your life would have turned out better if you had.”

And, as Harry landed with a thump back in the compartment, he imagined that had been exactly why Snape had given him this particular memory.

---

“Wow,” Ginny said later that evening. “Your mum was very insightful, wasn’t she?”

Back in Paris, Harry was using the fireplace in his hotel room to speak with his wife. He told Ginny about everything that had happened, including the two memories he had seen. Of course, since fireplaces were never 100% secure neither of them mentioned Snape by name.

“Yeah. He was still being rotten to her, and she only wanted to help him.”

“A lady of great compassion,” Ginny said sagely. “And I’m sure he knows now he should have listened.”

“Too little, too late,” Harry said shortly.

Ginny was quiet for a moment. “But so far none of his memories have shown anything about his real motives? Why he acted the way he did?”

“Not yet. And I doubt he’d show me that sort of thing. He’d be afraid I’d use it as ammunition against him with the Ministry.”

“You wouldn’t, though, would you?”

Harry thought about it for a long moment.

“No, I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t mind it if he thought I would.”

“Harry,” Ginny sighed. “So, how have the dreams been? Getting better?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’ve only had three the whole time I’ve been here, and each time I woke before I could get really worked up. But how are you?”

Even though Harry could only see Ginny’s head, he knew she shrugged. “All right. Bit tired. And my back’s been aching all day.”

“Don’t worry.” Harry soothed. “First thing tomorrow I’ll pick up my broom, and then I’ll be home in time for tea.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

---

The next day Harry made it across the Channel in record time. But no sooner had he arrived back on his own doorstep than a small owl swooped down on him from a nearby tree.

It hovered next to him impatiently, and Harry could see the letter tied to its foot. The red ribbon around it signaled it was an Owl Post Express.

“Sorry, little guy,” Harry apologized to the fluttering bird. “Hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

The owl huffed in relief as Harry took the message and unrolled it. “If you can wait a moment, I’ll give you and owl treat…” Harry said absently as he scanned the contents.

“Oh my god. Ginny.”

The message was from Ron. It said only that Ginny was at the Burrow, and urged Harry to come as soon as he could.

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as he reached the Weasley home he dumped his broom and his bags and rushed inside. Ron was there to meet him.

“Where’s Ginny? What happened?”

“Calm down, Harry. Ginny’s gone into labor a little early, is all, but the midwife is with her now.” A grin lit up Ron’s face. “I’m glad to see you! Ginny said you’d be back soon, but I couldn’t figure out how to find you…”

“I’ll explain later, Ron. I just want to see my wife.”

Ron took Harry into his parents’ room on the ground floor. He was relieved to see Ginny sitting up in bed. Harry’s mother-in-law, Molly, was holding her hand.

A wizened old witch-midwife, Hilda Goodstarch, was bustling about the room. She was the same midwife who’d delivered Ginny and most of other Weasley children years before.

“Harry, you’re home!” Ginny cried. “Thank goodness!”

He rushed to her, kissed her, and for a long time couldn’t speak.

Ron cleared his throat. “Maybe the rest of us should leave the room.”

“Stuff it, Ron,” Ginny told him.

Molly drew up a chair for Harry next to the bed.

“Ginny, what happened? When I spoke to you last night you said you felt fine.”

“I did. But this morning my backache kept getting worse and worse…and then the contractions started. I wanted to wait for you at home, Harry, but I got scared.”

“I told her to come straight here, and by then we were sure it wasn’t a false alarm,” Molly finished for her. “So I sent for Hilda, and Ron went out looking for you, Harry. Arthur has gone to collect Hermione and Helena.”

Harry winced. “Oh, Ginny, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here…”

“Nonsense,” Ginny said. She took a deep breath as another contraction hit. “You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

“It’s almost a full month early.” Harry looked at the midwife apprehensively. “Is the baby OK?”

“Everything’s progressing just as it should be,” the old woman said in her crackly voice. “Some babies are just in a hurry.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair. “So…what do we do now?”

Molly took him by the arm. “You don’t do anything.”

“But I want to stay with Ginny.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry. It’ll be hours yet, and you’ll only be underfoot in here.”

At the sound of that confident voice Harry looked up. Hermione Weasley came into the room. Hermione had finished her Healer training and was doing her residency at St. Mungo’s. She had promised Ginny she’d be present at the delivery.

Arthur Weasley hovered in the doorway, holding Helena, Ron and Hermione’s toddler daughter, in his arms.

“Out, out, all of you,” the midwife ordered. “If you’re not a mother or a Healer, out you go.”

Harry found himself pushed out of the room. The door closed in his face.

Arthur gave his granddaughter to her father and laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Let’s go sit outside, son,” he said gently. “They’ll call you back in when it’s time.”

Harry was too numb to do anything but nod.

He felt unbelievably selfish. He’d nearly missed this! How could he have been so thoughtless as to go running off after his past when Ginny had needed him in the present?

---

James Sirius Potter was born just after midnight. Because he’d arrived early he was small, but he had a powerful set of lungs.

Harry watched closely as the midwife waved her wand over the baby. He breathed a sigh of relief when, with a smile, she declared the infant to be perfectly healthy.

Ginny held the tiny, blanket-wrapped bundle first. She unwrapped enough of him so that Harry could see his son had inherited his black hair. It stuck out from his small head as if he’d put his finger in a Muggle light socket.

Harry loved him anyway.

The baby hadn’t yet opened his eyes, but Harry felt certain they would be brown, like Ginny’s.

Ginny smiled, and passed the baby to him. James Sirius was about the size of a Quaffle, but much lighter.

Harry fumbled about a bit before he figured out how to cradle the baby in the crook of his arm.

Ginny looked exhausted, but radiant.

“There you are, Harry Potter,” she told him. “You’re not alone in the world any more.”

And she was right.

---

“Harry?” Ginny asked him.

“Hmm?”

They were lying in bed at the Burrow and playing with the baby. James was only a few days old, but Harry was sure his strong grip was a sign he was going to excel at Quidditch.

“Don’t you think it’s time you looked at Snape’s third memory?”

Harry rubbed James’ belly, and the baby waved his arms happily. “I don’t think it matters anymore. The dreams have stopped.”

“That might be because neither of us is sleeping,” Ginny said wryly. “But it may be important. Mum and Dad have gone into the village, so now might be a good time.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right. I suppose I should finish what I started.” He rubbed the baby’s tummy again. “Let that be a lesson to you, too, young man.”

Harry took the Pensieve out into the Weasley’s garden. Somewhat reluctantly, he removed Snape’s third and last memory from the case and tipped it in.

This memory opened in a place Harry did not recognize. It was dark and windowless, as if they were underground, but above his head Harry could hear muffled talking and laughter, and chairs scraping against the floor.

Snape was headed for a door at the end of the hallway. He pulled out his wand, murmured an incantation under his breath, and the door opened.

Inside was a rather spacious room with maps tacked onto the walls. There was a large fireplace and a wide oak table with benches drawn up on either side.

Harry’s father was the only other person there. He had been using the tip of his wand to mark glowing red “x”s on the map of London. If he had to guess, Harry would say his dad was tracking incidents of Death Eater activity. This must be one of the Order’s hiding places.

“Dumbledore’s not here yet?” Snape demanded imperiously.

“You can see he’s not. But he should be here soon.”

Snape went the other way around the room, as if he did not want to get too close to James. Instead he pulled a bench up to the fire and sat down.

“Want a butterbeer?” James said pleasantly.

“No, I do not. Is anyone else coming?”

“Everyone else is on assignment. And Lily’s got the baby tonight. So for the time being it’s just you and me.”

Snape grunted in response.

“So.” James’ glasses twinkled in the firelight. “Did you catch that Wimbourne Wasps match? I thought…”

“Pray spare me the sporting chatter, Potter. I’m not in the mood.”

“OK, you pick the topic, then.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

James sat down on the other bench. “Why not? I’m told I can be quite an amusing conversationalist when I want to be.”

“Go away, Potter.”

But Harry’s dad just sat back a bit.

“Severus, we’re all on the same side now. Surely we should be willing to talk to one other?”

“I know you don’t want me here,” Snape mumbled.

“I beg your pardon?” James looked genuinely puzzled.

“In the Order, your precious Order. I know you don’t want me here. You, or Black, or Moody, or Lupin…”

James looked at the other man quite seriously.

“Dumbledore wants you here, Severus.”

Snape shook his head and continued to stare into the fire.

“Look, we’ve had our differences over the years. I’ll admit that. And, yes, if circumstances were any different you and I would probably never have been in the same room at the same time again. But this is the way things are, Snape. We’re at war. What’s at stake here is a lot bigger than you or I.”

“Oh, spare me your platitudes, Potter.”

“They aren’t platitudes, Snape. I’m dead serious.” James leaned forward.

“We’re talking about the end of the wizarding world as we know it. You know that’s what he wants.”

Snape shrugged.

“The end of everything good people like Dumbledore believe in. We can’t stand by and let that happen. I can’t stand by and let that happen. Not when my son’s future hangs in the balance.”

Oh, if only you knew, Dad, Harry thought ruefully. If only you knew.

“So, even the great James Potter will admit to a bit of self-interest in the matter. How refreshing.”

“Where my wife and son are concerned, you’re damn right I will. I want a better world for Harry to grow up in.”

Snape sniffed disdainfully. “Maybe you should have thought of that sooner.”

“As usual, Severus, you’re completely missing my point. I know you don’t have any family left, but try to imagine if you did.”

“You don’t know anything about my family. Don’t pretend that you do.”

“Then use your imagination. What if, I don’t know, your mum were still alive, or you had a child, like I do. Then you’d be better able to appreciate what the stakes really are. Lily and I chose to have a child because we believe the Order is going to win. We believe in the future.

“And Dumbledore believes you’re going to play a role in that victory,” James added. “You know things no one else knows. He values your insights.”

Snape just shrugged again.

“More importantly, he knows what you’re risking by helping us. And the rest of us do, too. We’re already giving you all the credit in the world, or you wouldn’t be in the Order at all. What do you want, Severus, banners and confetti?”

Harry saw the corners of Snape’s mouth curl upward, as if for a moment he was tempted to smile. Of course, he did not.

“Dumbledore’s not going to forget your part in all this. And,” James added a trifle stiffly, “neither will I. Now will you please stop being such a git?”

“If you’ll stop being a sentimental sop,” the other man shot back. But he kept the nastiness in his tone to a minimum.

The door opened again, and Dumbledore entered. “Ah, James, Severus, you’re both here. And you didn’t kill one another. Good. There’s work to do tonight.”

Harry laughed. Unfortunately the edges of his vision grew cloudy and he had to leave before finding out what the Order’s business at hand had been.

He supposed it didn’t really matter.

He had seen what he had wanted to see—a mature James Potter, a man thinking about his, and his family’s, future.

A man Harry felt privileged to know.

---

Harry carefully placed the Pensieve back in its box. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be needing it again any time soon.

Then he went back into the Burrow, to his wife and son.

To his future.