Forgive, but not forget.

            Em

            Authors note: Thankyou so much for reading the last chapters, I hope you like this one the same if not more.

            Suzybeth…I hope the information I've given so far is enough.

            Clingon87…thankyou.

            LadyFoxfire…Thankyou. Here is the more.

            Djay…I know this isn't so interesting. I just wanted to set the scene more.

            Nicky…I'll do just that.

            Lunatyme…Thankyou.

            Disclaimer:

I am not the owner of any of the characters or any of the places. As many fanfic authors say, I am just taking them all for a spin. The characters and their personalities were made up by the renowned JKR. Whom I'm sure you're all familiar with.

Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but marvel at the calm aurora that the man sat before him gave off. True, he'd been through a lot and that alone could either subdue a person or make them insane. But this was different, it wasn't a man withdrawn with fear; it was a brave man, kind and placid by nature. He was a man that was almost born to lead, but not by force or with a loud voice, but with little effort. The man, Harry, almost demanded respect with the way his gaze held onto your very soul the moment your eyes met.

            There was in common between him and his parents. Lily was bubbly and always had a smile, at least he'd inherited her kindness; James was outgoing and sought to be the centre of attention whereas his son had it immediately. Albus looked over to where McGonnagall stood, he could see a little tear cascade down the side of her face. She was quite close to these two; she'd been their head of house and now was a colleague. The three broke apart.

            "I will take up residence in the tower behind the painting of the phoenix." Harry stated simply, his gaze now on the old man himself. It was a statement and not a question. Although his tone was soft it held such authority that Albus daren't question him. He'd heard the stories of Harry's life and knew that he was neither a liar nor someone to mess with. The tower itself hadn't been inhabited in years although in Harry's world it was where he had once lived. The tower itself was quite small compared to other towers and spaciously housed one person. He could see it out of his bedroom window and had often longed to be able to wave to a neighbour, whether they were stood on the rusty balcony or sat having tea in the untended garden that was situated on the flat roof. He nodded his assent, although he doubted that made any difference. Harry then stood up and left, his robes dramatically billowing out behind him as he went similarly to the way Snape entered. Two very stunned parents were left in his wake. 'Perhaps the reunion was too emotional for him?' he thought and then realised that perhaps it was not. The man had been through worse, but then again it wasn't everyday that you get sent into an alternate reality where not only is Lord Voldemort very much alive, but where your parents are too. 'He's probably tired and wants to sort out his old rooms. Gaining a bit of normality and continuity were there is none is probably what he needs. Besides, the rooms are far from liveable he'll have a long night and probably day sorting that out.'

             ***            ***            ***

            Confused and tired he neared the portrait.

            "Move aside, the phoenix is here." He said. That was the declaration he had to say when he first took up these rooms. In his world he was the head of the order, the prophesised one. By declaring who he was he could enter without a password. The golden and red phoenix chirped happily at him and then obliged.

            The staircase was gloomier than he remembered and as if he'd just switched on a light it dawned on him. The rooms would be exactly the same as when he'd first become an occupant. It wasn't fair. It never was fair. Luckily he was much more powerful and so with a flick of his hand the ceiling became dotted with many stars, creating a soft, glowing light. He continued on.

            The first room was quite huge as it covered the whole level of the tower. The curving, bare walls and the layers of dust created a strong longing of home. Soon there was a modern looking room, such a contrast to the rest of the castle. There was a thick raised ring around the room, a higher platform. Three steps brought you down into the rest. The walls were a light blue and the floor was mosaic with lilac and deep blue tiles. Two huge French windows led out to a large balcony that twisted halfway around the tower. The whole room was done in the style of art Nouvou and the furniture was a mix of wood, glass and aluminium. The ceiling was of a summer's day sky with moving wispy clouds. Long, velvet curtains graced every window and flowed like water, their material like the invisibility cloak but blue.

            An invisible staircase went up to the next level on the inside and a wrought iron one from the balcony led to the garden up top. The next two levels consisted of a stylised Grecian bathroom, a lavish Indian style bedroom, an Italian style dining room, a Victorian study and a little room like the one he'd had in Tibet which he reserved for meditation. The rooms all reflected his travels and although they were different than the way they had been in his world he felt more than at home in them.

            The garden was next and he began a lengthy incantation that would revive it to how it had been before, how it had been when the last occupant was there. He was very pleased with the results as a tidy little English garden came to life with two wrought iron seats and a table.

            In his back pocket he had his shrunk trunk. He took it everywhere with him. It was like mad eye Moody's except the last compartment held more than a little room. It held an entire set of rooms including a library that he'd spent a lot of time and money to build up. He wanted so much to unpack some of his things, but thought better of it. 'I arrived here in a blink of an eye, I don't want to suddenly go back without my things.'

            So instead of unpacking or even undressing, he lay tiredly down with the intention of going to sleep. 'What if my parents aren't there in the morning? What if they decide they don't like me? Will I like them? So much has happened, what if they expect me to be like a son, naive and questioning? What if I get to know them? Get to love them, and Voldemort takes them away? Never! I wont let that happen, I can't let that happen! Who's behind this? Would Voldemort be so stupid as to bring his defeater to him?' The questions kept pouring forth and it was hard to realise at which one he fell into a deep sleep.

            In their rooms Lily and James lay down, confused and worried. Thinking similar thoughts to Harry's. Dumbledore had told them certain things about their son and the most prominent thought I their minds was 'Will he ever except us after all he's been through without us?'

            Thus ends the third chapter.