The birds flew high above him, singing their songs as they danced around the tall towers of the Keep. They ducked and dived, banked, and climbed around one another in their own little private dances.

He watched one in particular – a younger bird, with its white plumage almost glowing in the early evening light. He watched it chase playfully after another similar bird, often flying wingtip to wingtip as it called out in glee.

Harry smiled, watching it from his spot underneath the Great Oak of Arpton Keep, a small smile on his face as he idly ran an oiled cloth down the length of his sword. The quiet sounds of the castle and the steady roaring of the twin waterfalls on either side of the fortress were his only companions in his quiet sanctuary.

He sighed happily as he placed the blade down carefully on the soft grass beside him – the blade had been recently sharpened and was now well oiled, anything further would be just an excuse not to leave his shaded haven.

His head fell back slightly, the hard wood of the tree behind him was a familiar comfort. It was moments like this, when he was covered in the shade of the canopy that he felt truly at peace. He gave a little contented sigh as he stretched his legs out before him.

"Here you are! Shirking your duties again, I see!"

The voice caused him to groan as he cracked open an eye. There, striding across the grass with a large grin of pearly-white teeth was Rob, with his unruly red hair that stuck up wildly in every which direction. His father's hazel eyes sparkling with mirth.

Harry grinned as he pushed himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around his younger brother, clapping him on the back.

"You always know where to find me." Harry scoffed, returning to his spot at the base of the tree and patting the empty spot beside him. He watched as Rob hitched the material of his breeches and sat down.

"You look like shit." Rob teased, smirking in that way he'd heard the girls around the castle giggling about. Harry rolled his eyes and gave his brother a small shove with his elbow.

"Aye, you would if you'd returned from the Capitol in the early hours of the morning."

"Better you than me." Rob grinned, idly scratching the rough stubble on his chin.

"How's Daphne?" Harry found himself asking, eager to hear of one of his closest friends and the wife of his brother. He watched as Rob's eyes sparkled at the mention of the beautiful, dark-haired witch. As usual, Rob sat a little taller when speaking of her and his shoulders were set a little further back as his chest puffed out in pride.

It had been a surprise to the family, for sure. Daphne Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass family, had been a constant childhood companion to Harry, along with the Longbottom heir, Neville. They had grown up around one another, forming a bond of friendship so strong that they were as good as siblings.

While Neville had grown into a fearsome, broad man with a thick beard and square shoulders that spoke of his Norse heritage, Daphne had grown into a stunningly beautiful woman. Her long dark hair and piercing blue eyes would draw the attention of all the men around her.

From the moment she had become a woman, Daphne had been swarmed with an endless number of suitors, vying for her hand – some far more honourable than others. While many quickly gave up their pursuits easily enough, it had been Rob, two years younger than Harry, who had made it his life's mission to win her hand.

Rob had been eighteen when she had finally succumbed to his charms and flirtations. It had been amusing to watch for years. Originally Rob had been a bumbling fool, tying his tongue in her presence and sweating profusely.

As the years went on, and Rob's confidence grew, his attention to his friend had never wavered. The stumbling words paved way for confident compliments, and playful flirtations. Rob had grown into a handsome man, with broad shoulders from his years training with a sword that stood as tall as Harry, and he was a powerful wizard.

With Rob's transition into adulthood, Daphne's lingering glances to his younger brother hadn't gone unnoticed by him. While Harry considered himself a capable man, and a strong wizard, he knew better than to tease the witch, whose eyes had lingered on his brother. He was happy for the two of them and had barely been able to contain his joy when they had shared a kiss during a dance at a House Longbottom tournament.

The announcement of their impending marriage had been swift and full of excitement. Harry still remembered the loud shrieks of protest and the black eye he had earned when he had scooped Daphne up and spun her around as he welcomed her officially into the family. He had walked around in a happy daze for two days after that, something that his own wife had found hilarious.

"When I left her, she was trying to pull Astoria out of the helmet she'd gotten stuck on her head." Rob snickered.

"Merlin, what did she do now?" Harry chuckled, picturing the two Greengrass sisters trying to get the helmet off. Astoria had become another honorary family member as they grew up – she was wild and fierce, a stark contrast to Daphne's cool, calculating demeanour. While Daphne would preach caution, it would be Astoria who leapt into a situation headfirst.

Harry fondly remembered the time he had to rescue Astoria, who was well into her teens at that point, from a herd of wild Hippogriffs, because she'd plucked a wing-feather from the alpha – he still had the scars on his side from that little adventure.

"Oh, just trying to sneak into our Household Guard again." Rob grinned, rolling his eyes. It had been a long-standing dream of Astoria's to join the Potter Guard – she wasn't one for the dresses and the courtships of regular girls, and Harry loved her for it.

"It's the day she finds herself in a dress, willingly, is a day that we need to be concerned." Harry grinned, imagining the petite, dark haired young woman in a dress.

"Aye – that'll be the day." Rob hummed, threading his fingers together over his stomach and resting his head against the trunk. "Say, why did you return so late last night?"

"We overstayed our welcome, I believe." Harry chuckled, pursing his lips. Rob turned his head and raised a brow curiously. Harry shrugged. "What do you want me to say? Trevelyan is a wanker – I call them as I see them."

"You didn't!" Rob gasped, grinning.

"Not in so many words, mind you." Harry laughed.

"Father's going to murder you – oh Gods, that means I'll have to be the heir!" Rob wailed, dragging his fingers down his face in horror.

"Aye – no more Quidditch for you. Whatever will your adoring public do without your smiles and winks?"

"Learn to stop sneaking into the changing rooms, most likely." Rob sniggered, slugging Harry in his right arm playfully.

"Oh aye, I'm sure. Do you remember that girl, what was her name – blonde, fourth year that stumbled into the locker room in my last year, looking for you?"

"Aye, oh Merlin, what was her name? Bethany? Becky? Something like that. I remember you trying to hide yourself in your locker, too." Rob chuckled, a far away look on his face as Harry rolled his eyes.

Of course, Rob would remember that.

It had been in Harry's final year of Hogwarts, and Rob's fifth. They had been playing Slytherin, and Rob had performed excellently as the lead Chaser, scoring points left and right while Harry broke up the opposing formations and kept an eye out for the Snitch.

The celebrations in the locker room had them all re-enacting parts of the match and laughing loudly until a fourth year Hufflepuff had barged into the room, screaming for Rob and that she would be his. Harry had panicked and thrown himself bodily into his locker, what with him standing there in his underwear after he'd washed the sweat and grime of the match from his body. Rob, in comparison, had stood there shocked and shirtless.

"I wonder how she's doing now?" Harry mused quietly, staring up at the high walls of the Keep as he rubbed at the short beard that had grown over the years.

The years had passed quickly – far too quickly for his own liking. He had left Hogwarts a decade ago and spent a few years as a Professional Dueller in Europe, before returning to take up his duties in Arpton Keep under the guiding hand of his father.

"There you fools are!" Came the voice of his sister – Jasmine Potter, the spitting image of her mother, fiery red hair framing her porcelain face and emerald eyes.

"Shite – we're in for it now." Rob grumbled, pushing himself to his feet.

"Speak for yourself, I'm still the eldest – not to mention her favourite." Harry muttered from the corner of his mouth as he offered Jasmine a smile and a wave as she marched across the lawn.

Rob scoffed. "Aye, but only because you're wrapped around her finger."

"Harry James Potter, just where do you think you've been, hm?" Jasmine demanded, poking him roughly in the chest as she finally reached the two brothers. While Harry and Rob were handsome young men, they were known for their skill and power; Jasmine was the jewel of the Potter family scions.

It had been no surprise that Rob's Fraternal Twin had taken after their mother, with a keen intellect and sharp wit to match her beauty, she had been the smartest witch of her year at Hogwarts, thrashing all the previously set records and setting her own.

She had railed against the expectations that came with her birth, and had made it her life's mission to set new laws and customs to protect women in the wizarding world – already some of her earlier work was being taught at Hogwarts, held up as something to aspire to. It had come as no surprise when she had been made Head Girl, while Rob had been made Quidditch Captain.

She stood before him now, her nostrils flared, and her face flushed as she stared up at him with her hands on her hips. "Do you have any idea how inconsolable poor Neville is, that you didn't go and see him the moment you returned?"

Rob snorted at his side, "Anyone would think he was Harry's wife."

"Don't get me started with you, Robert Charlus."

Rob silenced himself immediately under his sister's firm glare. Harry quickly pulled her into a firm hug, and softly kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry about Neville, Jas. I know how he can get."

Rob snorted at his side, and Jasmine shifted suddenly before Rob yelped in pain, clutching his shin.

There had been something about Jasmine growing up that had often confused him. While he doted on her, and loved her unconditionally, she had always appeared nearby whenever Neville had been around. Neville had paid it no mind, and in their younger years, the two of them had tried to involve Jasmine in whatever game they were playing – often taking turns to rescue her from whichever foul wizard held her captive.

It was Neville, more often than not, would end up rescuing her – if only because Harry loved to see her face light up when Neville would stand victorious. She would clap and pretend to swoon before placing a quick peck on the boy's cheek.

Harry had assumed that all girls were like that.

As they got older, her attention to Neville became more pronounced and Harry began to get an inkling as to why. Neville had grown into a fearsome young man, with powerful arms, a thick beard, and dark, wild hair that was always kept swept back.

While Neville was like a brother to him, it hadn't quelled the protective instinct in him when he had caught Neville leaning against a wall, leaning into his sister with a lock of her hair wrapped around his finger. He still recalled standing behind an oblivious Neville and loudly clearing his throat. The older boy had panicked and stumbled away from him, tripping over a bucket of water and landing on his arse.

After making Neville sweat for a moment – perhaps it had been longer, but that was his prerogative, he had helped his best friend to his feet and threatened him bodily harm if he ever hurt sweet Jasmine. He was going to say more, but the moment was ruined when his darling sister dumped the rest of the bucket over his head and he had been forced to run for cover as she flung hex after hex at him.

Jasmine burrowed a little deeper into his chest as she took a deep breath – even in her mid-twenties, she would still be that same little girl he remembered following him around the castle, asking to ride on his back.

"How is my dear brother-in-law?" Harry chuckled, leaning back a little and cupping his sister's face. She rolled her eyes.

"Still as wild as ever, I'm afraid. He's trying to teach little Ubbe how to wield an axe."

"He always did say he'd start him young…" Rob muttered, stepping away just in time to avoid the foot that flew towards his shins.

"He's four, Rob!" Jasmine snapped, scowling at her twin. Rob snickered quietly and rubbed at his jaw in an attempt to hide it – Harry too, was struggling to contain his amusement.

As Neville had grown, there had been something about his ancestry that had called to him, and he had thrown himself into it. He was every bit the model Pureblood wizard, he was also every bit the warrior – as children, the two of them could often be found in the training yard, sparring with blunted weapons as often as they sparred with their wands. Harry had favoured bastard swords and Neville had gravitated toward the axe.

It came as little surprise that he was trying to get little Ubbe, named for the founder of House Longbottom, to take to the axe.

"I'm sure little Ubbe will be just fine – besides, just you wait until he gets his hands on little Astrid, hm?"

Jasmine's eyes widened a little at that, and Harry couldn't help the little smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. The thought of little, sweet Astrid running around in her arctic blue silk dresses with an axe was almost too funny to imagine.

If Harry were honest with himself, he was a lost cause when it came to any of the next generation of Potters, Longbottoms and Greengrass'. As Daphne was the heir to her house, technically Rob had become Robert Greengrass, and Jasmine had joined Neville's house. As far as Harry was concerned though, they were all one family.

It was at that moment that the three of them heard the unmistakable bang of the oak door on the stone wall of the castle. There, striding through the door with his son on his shoulders and daughter tucked under an arm as if she were a coat, was Neville.

Harry grinned and bent down to pick up the sword, sliding it quickly into the simple scabbard that he had left resting against the tree behind him. Better to be safe than sorry with the arrival of the children.

As he turned to look back at his brother-in-law, he chuckled as Neville, without breaking his long stride, lifted little Ubbe from his shoulders by the scruff of his neck, the little boy laughing and his legs already kicking as he landed on the floor running. Astrid, who was giggling uncontrollably took a moment to straighten her skirt before waddling on unsure feet toward her mother, who bent and held her hands out for her.

Before he knew it, he had been picked up and spun around as the much larger man roared with laughter and made his ribs creak. "There's my Little Wolf!"

"Neville – can't – breath." Harry groaned, gasping for breath as he was dropped on the ground.

"And you wonder why people think you're married." Rob laughed, slapping Harry on the back. Harry just cuffed him over the head.

"Ha! Now there's a thought-"

"No!" Jasmine snapped, glaring at her husband as she poked him in the ribs. "I'm selfish, I refuse to share."

"Maybe next time, Neville." Harry grinned as he bent down to pick up Ubbe, who was tugging on his trouser leg, his tiny hand stretched into the air as high as it would reach. Harry made a show of picking the boy up. "Oh, you're getting too big for me, Ubbe! Soon I won't be able to pick you up!" Harry said, holding his nephew against his right hip and tapping him on his little nose.

The boy scrunched his face up and went cross-eyed for a moment as he focused on his finger. It was far too adorable.

"No! Uncle Harry!" The little Ubbe cried, throwing his arms around Harry's neck, and burying his face into his shoulder. Harry grinned and hugged the boy back, stroking his dark hair with his free hand.

"Oh, alright then, I think I can manage it for a little longer." Harry whispered, earning a giggle from the boy. "And how's little Astrid doing, hm?"

He turned to look at the little girl that was bouncing on her mother's hip. She looked as content as ever – her chubby little cheeks flushed red and her eyes scrunched up as she giggled and tried to hide behind her hands. He gasped and pretended to look for her. "Where's little Astrid gone?"

She dropped her hands with a loud giggle, and he peppered her forehead with little kisses. "There she is!"

"Harry!"

The unmistakable sound of Astoria's excited shout echoed across the garden and he looked around at the assembled adults with a befuddled expression. "Was there some pre-arranged meeting I didn't know about?"

Rob snorted as Harry put Ubbe on the floor and prepared himself. He noticed everyone – even the little boy stepped back. "Everyone's missed you, what can I say?" Rob grinned, slapping him on the shoulder again while Neville chuckled.

Harry winced as the dark-haired missile struck his chest, her lithe arms wrapping around his torso with such a strength that he could hardly believe it was the petite woman before him. "'Storia – ribs – bending – hurts."

Astoria let go with a little blush and took a step back with a grin. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Aye, even in the spare pieces of armour laying around, apparently."

Astoria's blue eyes widened a little at that before she awkwardly glanced at the floor, briefly shooting both Neville and Rob a glare as they snickered – both quelled under her gaze, however.

"Astoria, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off?" Daphne sighed, shaking her head as she joined the group – a six-year-old boy with messy black hair and blue eyes at her side, and a three year old girl in each arm.

"I was wondering where you were." Harry quipped, quickly planting a kiss on Daphne's cheek as he greeted her with a one-armed hug.

"Hey, where's mine?" Astoria groaned. Harry chuckled, rolled his eyes and placed one on her cheek too.

"Looks like you've got competition, Neville." Rob winked, leaning casually to the side as Astoria took a swipe at him. The youngest of them growled dangerously and Harry watched as his brother's eyes widened a little bit as he held his hands in front of him. "Now… Astoria, don't do anything hasty. Daphne, dear?"

"Yes, dear husband of mine?" She replied airily, as if nothing of consequence was happening.

"She's got that look in her eye again."

"Astoria?" Daphne grinned, looking at her husband.

"Yes, dear sister of mine?"

"Get him."

There was a small yelp as the children and remaining adults all laughed loudly. Astoria had thrown herself bodily at Rob, knocking them both to the dirt as they rolled around. The youngest Greengrass used her smaller stature to her advantage, nimbly avoiding his brother's attempts to shake her loose. It ended with Astoria, dressed as she was in her tunic, breeches and boots, sitting quite proudly on his brother's chest, beaming up at the lot of them – she was soon joined by the two boys, who leapt atop Rob happily.

"That's eight to nothing." Neville murmured, quietly handing Harry a trio of Galleons.

"I told you that you were a fool for thinking otherwise." Harry chuckled back, tucking the gold pieces into a small pouch on his belt.

"Men." Jasmine sighed, rolling her eyes. Little Astrid on her hip tried to mimic her mother, rolling her eyes while she sucked on her thumb.

"Aye, but we love them in any event." Daphne sighed, as if it were some great burden.

"You know, we could be quite offended by that." Harry replied, raising a brow at the woman opposite him.

"You'll get over it – you're a big boy." She replied, smiling sweetly. Harry scoffed and turned to watch the small pile of bodies atop his brother. Astoria had remained in her place of triumph, encouraging the boys to tickle the youngest Potter brother – Rob's giggles and barks of laughter were always a welcome sound.

They stood there for a time, just watching as tears ran down Rob's cheeks as he squirmed under the ticklish torture of his son and nephew. It was moments like this where Harry was reminded of just how fortunate they all were – all happy and content. They had grown and matured quickly after Hogwarts, and now they all had small families of their own. How quickly the years went by.

It would be his own brood that went off to Hogwarts first – little Sirius and Remus, the twins named for his Marauder uncles, with their wild hair that refused to be tamed, and their sparkling eyes. It was hard to imagine it would only be a few more years until he stood on that platform, waving them goodbye. Where had the time gone?

"You're brooding again." Daphne and Jasmine said at the same time, both looking at him fondly. The gentle breeze gently swaying the skirts of their dresses – Jasmine in her emerald dress, and Daphne in her usual black and silver.

"I don't brood." Harry muttered, rolling his eyes as his gaze lifted and flittered to the two women who were looking at him with little smirks.

Neville snorted at his side and clapped Harry on the back. "Harry, all you ever did at Hogwarts was brood."

"Did not."

"Did too!" Astoria chimed in, causing Harry to roll his eyes again.

Harry folded his arms across his chest and ignored the quiet chuckles of those around him and simply continued to watch as his nephews continued to torment his brother – before long, they had tired of their game with his brother and flopped into the grass beside Rob.

There was a soft caw above him, and he tilted his head a little and caught a glimpse of his faithful companion as she swooped down from between the tall towers of Arpton, her large wings tucked tightly into her body and her long tailfeathers trailing behind her.

She came to a sharp stop just before them and took to perching on one of the thick branches of the great oak. Harry sighed as he reached up and scratched her chin – the Phoenix leant into his touch, trilling quietly.

"Told you we'd find him if we followed the chicken!" Came the chuckling voice of his father. It was a deep, soothing voice that had read him stories like The Tale of the Three Brothers, and The Fountain of Fair Fortune after tucking him into bed.

Harry spun and took in the sight of Lord James Potter, Lord of Arpton Keep and Rosestone Castle, and proud father to three children. On his left were Sirius and Remus, his Marauder uncles – Sirius with his wildly curly hair and easy smirk, and Remus with his neat brown hair that was streaked with grey. On his right was Lily Potter, devoted mother, Lady of House Potter, and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.

His father was dressed in his usual dark doublet, and his mother was in a dress that resembled Jasmine's. A pair of nine-year-old boys sprinted around the four of them, screaming in joy – their faces were flushed with happiness and their mouths were set into excited grins.

Harry bent down and held his arms out as the two boys collided with him. He laughed as he scooped them up as best he could. "I was wondering where the two of you trouble-makers were!"

Little Remus, with his hair tied back neatly, laughed as he wrapped his arms around Harry, while little Sirius was busy trying to climb his way onto his shoulders. "I think I regret naming you after the Marauders." He grouched, glaring at the two men they were named for – both of whom were snickering quietly.

"Uncle Sirius showed us how to talk to girls!" Remus grinned bouncing up and down a little on the spot.

"Did he now?" Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow at the man in question. Harry's father laughed loudly alongside Neville while Harry's mother, Jasmine and Daphne rolled their eyes.

"Just passing on my talents where they're needed." Sirius replied with a wink.

"But girls are so boring!" Groaned Rob's son, David – named for their mother's Muggle father. Astoria leaned over and gently flicked him on the forehead, having abandoned her seat atop Rob, who was busy pulling himself to his feet.

"I'm not boring, am I?"

"No! You're the best, Auntie 'Storia!"

"That's right, and I'm a girl." She replied smugly, watching as David worked that one out in his head. After a moment, he seemed to understand and nodded, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Just goes to show, Gryffindors are the best." Neville grinned.

Daphne snorted while Jasmine simply rolled her eyes.

"I hate to break it to you dears, but you're vastly outnumbered." His mother chuckled, patting both women on their shoulders as she fussed over the girls in their arms, cooing and making little faces at them.

With little Sirius James Potter perched on his shoulders, and little Remus Charlus still holding onto him, Harry thought there was no better place to be – even if his little moment of quiet solitude had been disturbed.

"What brought you all out here?" He asked, looking to his father.

"Is it so wrong to wish to spend time with my family?" The Potter patriarch grinned, moving to pick little Remus up – despite Harry approaching his thirties, his father didn't look any older than himself. Indeed, there had been a number of times people had asked if they were indeed brothers.

"Of course not – I'm just surprised is all." Harry smiled, reaching up and taking hold of Sirius's hands, which were gripping his hair.

"We missed you, dear." His mother smiled, before planting a kiss on his cheek. Sirius snickered above him.

"What's so funny, hm?"

"Grandmama kissed you!"

"I happen to know for a fact that your mother kisses you each night." Harry grinned, tipping his head back a little to peer up at his son's scrunched up face. "That's what I thought." Harry winked.

"Where is my darling daughter-in-law?"

"With the girls, most likely." Rob replied with a chuckle. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed.

"She could be doing other things – you never know." He shrugged, looking at Rob.

"No, no, the girls are a safe bet." His father chuckled, rubbing at his jaw in an attempt to hide his smirk.

The door to the garden opened, and a pair of giggling girls – both dressed in light blue dresses skipped along the stone path. The oldest, Jean, was seven, while the youngest, Traya was five – the pair were utterly inseparable, and utterly adorable as they skipped along the path side-by-side holding a small bouquet of flowers.

"Harry!"

He looked up to see his wife walking toward him, but his view of her was cut off as everyone stepped forward to greet her. She was well loved by his family, he knew, even as little Sirius squirmed on his shoulders with his arms outstretched for her. He chuckled and remained in place, content to simply wait.

"Harry!"

He blinked slowly, his smile content as Rob swept her up in a hug, spinning her around in place, her hair loose and…

"Harry!"

The world snapped into focus, and he found himself sitting before the large mirror – its golden frame sparkling in the moonlight as the figures in the glass disappeared from view. He looked to his right, where he could feel someone shaking his shoulder.

"'Ermione?" He mumbled, still a little dazed. Hermione was kneeling next to him, her legs tucked under herself as she shook his shoulder. "What you," He paused for a moment as the room spun. "doin' 'ere?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "That's the first question you have? Honestly Harry, it's no wonder you're second in class."

Harry frowned at her but hissed as it caused his temples to throb painfully. He buried his face in his hands for a moment and let out a pitiful moan.

He vaguely noted the sound of Hermione shifting beside him on the step. When he finally mustered the strength to pick his head from his hands, he noticed she was sat much more comfortably now, with her hands threaded together in her lap.

Harry groaned again as the moonlight that trickled into the room made his eyes sore.

"What are you doing back?" He asked after a moment, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, looking at him with an odd expression.

"Why are you back so soon? Shouldn't you be with your parents?"

There was a beat of silence as Hermione nibbled her lip. "Harry, it's January twenty-first."

Harry blinked and then laughed tiredly. "Yeah, right. Good one."

"No, I'm serious, Harry. We've been back for two weeks. When did you think it was?"

Harry found himself rubbing his forehead tiredly as he stifled a yawn. "Early morning Boxing Day, I suppose?"

"No wonder you look so exhausted!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms in the air as she stood and began pacing. "We've been worried sick about you, Potter!" She added, spinning around to look at him with a raised finger and a furious look on her face.

"Huh?" He asked, dumbly.

"Harry, you've looked no better than a corpse for weeks! Neville says you barely go to your room!"

"I was in it earlier-" He began, about to recall waking up with Clara at his side as his defence, only to have the girl before him cut him off furiously.

"No, you weren't! You spent the whole evening on the couch and staring at the fireplace. I put a tracking charm on you and followed you here – honestly Harry, do you have any idea how much trouble we could be in? How may rules we're breaking?"

"Probably the same number as when you set Snape on fire…" He muttered, scrunching his face a little again as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Professor – and technically, there are no rules against that. Besides, I did it to make sure you were safe!" Hermione snapped, beginning her furious pacing once again.

"Hermione, please sit down – you're giving me a headache." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. She gave a small huff of protest before stomping quietly – he had no clue how she managed that – over to where he was sat and plopped down beside him, with her arms across her chest and a scowl on her face.

Harry's head throbbed, but the pain was less severe than it had been minutes before. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and realised for the first time that it was completely loose – when did that happen? It had been tied back when he had ventured down here.

Slowly, his eyes began to take in other details – his boots looked less than presentable, and the breeches and baggy tunic he had been wearing were replaced by a wrinkled school uniform. Where had his clothes gone?

"Is it really January?" He whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. Hermione turned to look at him, her face softening at his stunned expression.

"Oh Harry." She said before throwing her arms around him. "We were all so worried." She added after a moment. Harry merely sat there, his wide eyes staring at the mirror before him, tracing the soft curves of the patterning – even now, the mist in the glass called to him, tempting him with the promise of what he had seen.

"Hermione – what do you see?" He asked, watching as she pulled back from him and followed his gaze to the glass. She looked at the mirror curiously, though not without a bit of hesitation.

"I see," She began slowly. "I have my own library – it looks rather cosy. I'm reading, but I'm," Harry watched as she gasped a little and put a hand to her mouth – she blushed a little, her cheeks turning scarlet. "I'm holding someone's hand." She murmured and quickly averted her eyes. "I couldn't see their face though."

"That sounds nice." He hummed.

"Harry… What did you see?"

He was quiet. Did he want to tell her? Why wouldn't he? It had felt so real, so tangible. He could still feel the weight of little Sirius on his shoulders and hear the laughter of Rob as his nephews and Astoria tickled him mercilessly. He could smell the garden at Arpton as clearly as if he were there.

"My family." He sighed, running a hand down his face with a groan. "It was so real, Hermione. I could touch them; I could smell them – I saw them as real as you are now."

"No wonder you kept coming back to it." She murmured, her eyes becoming shiny for a moment. Harry cringed – he didn't want her to cry, especially not because of him.

"It was perfect."

The two were quiet for a time, simply content to sit in a comfortable silence with the other. There were no words of comfort that Hermione could offer, and he appreciated her silence – more than she likely realised. Many were often too quick to offer their words of regret, or their consolations, wanting to fill the awkward silence. They underestimated the comfort of a quiet moment.

There was something deeply wrong, he thought, about growing without the unconditional love of a mother and father. He had Sirius, Arcturus, Remus and even Lispy, but it wasn't the same. Yes, they were a family, but he had never been tucked into bed by his mother – had his hair patted smooth as he sat in her lap. He had never been taught to ride a broom by his father, or had his hair ruffled after catching a Quaffle – at least, not that he could remember.

He longed for it more than anything – if there was ever something he wished for more than anything, it would be his parents.

As it was, he had been raised in a loving family. He had grown up being tucked into bed by Sirius, and Remus read him bedtime stories. He had been congratulated and had his hair ruffled by Arcturus. He was incredibly fortunate.

It still didn't help the sharp stabbing pain in his chest when he'd hear Hermione or Tracy talk of their parents. It was part of the reason he and Neville were so close – they had that fundamental link that bonded them together.

They were both orphans.

Neville, while his parents were technically still alive – the people they had been were long since passed, driven into the depths of insanity and beyond hope of recovery. All Neville could do now was make sure they were well taken care of. Sometimes he wondered what was worse – the lack of parents, or knowing they were alive but beyond your reach.

Harry turned his head a little, and found his nose tickled by Hermione's bushy hair – the wild, untameable strands that were just so intrinsically Hermione. At some point, she had moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts, he hadn't even felt noticed.

"Back again, Harry?" Came the familiar, soft voice of Headmaster Dumbledore. The two of them scrambled to their feet and spun to face the silver-haired man who was standing calmly at the entrance to the room. He lifted an amused brow at Hermione and his eyes sparkled over his half-moon glasses. "And I see you brought a friend with you."

"Sorry, Headmaster Dumbledore, we were just-" Hermione began, only for the elderly professor to hold up a hand.

"I see that you both, like so many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore looked between the two of them as he approached slowly, his eyes briefly locking on the pale glass over Harry's shoulder. For a moment, Harry thought he saw Dumbledore's shoulders sag a little. "I trust, by now, that you understand what it does?"

Harry frowned and glanced at Hermione.

"In that case, allow me to give you both a clue." Dumbledore offered before either could really respond, coming to stand directly before the mirror as he gazed upon the two of them. "The happiest man alive, could look into that mirror, and see only himself – exactly as he is."

"It shows us what we want – whatever we want." Harry murmured, his eyes darting to the floor.

"Yes – and no." Dumbledore replied, his eyes darting to Hermione.

"Erised – it's desire backwards! It shows us what we truly desire!" Hermione gasped at his side; her eyes wide. Dumbledore smiled down at her.

Harry's own eyes widened – no wonder the mirror had shown him his family. There was nothing he yearned for more.

"Indeed, Miss Granger – it shows us no more than our deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. It does not take a great mind, to guess at what you have been seeing these past weeks, Harry."

"Aye, Headmaster." He replied quietly. He felt Hermione squeeze his hand gently.

"But remember this, Harry. This mirror gives us neither knowledge, nor truth. Men have wasted away in front of it – even gone mad. I can see from your appearance, and Miss Granger's obvious concern, that you have felt these effects for yourself." Dumbledore said softly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"That is why tomorrow, it will be moved to a new home." Harry looked sharply up at the man before him – that familiar feeling from the mirror that had drawn him into the room screaming in the back of his mind. "It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live."

"Professor," Hermione began hesitantly. The Headmaster turned to look at her, a small smile on his face as he removed his hand. "Where is the mirror from?"

"Ah, that is a question that minds far greater than my own have been pondering for centuries. All we can say for certain, is that the method of its creation has been lost to time."

Harry frowned and looked back at the mirror. The magic of it was so different to the magic of Hogwarts – it was rich, full, and sweet. It felt so much like Arpton Keep that…

Harry gasped, his eyes widening as he looked up at Dumbledore. "It's –"

"Miss Granger, please see to it that the two of you return to Gryffindor Tower, won't you? I believe Harry has something that shall see you both to bed without drawing the ire of our Caretaker, hm?" Dumbledore smiled gently. Hermione nodded quickly.

"Of course, Headmaster."

Harry groaned at the thought of walking back to the Gryffindor Tower but reached out a hand for his father's cloak – which he had noticed was gathered into a neat pile on one of the steps – and summoned the silky material.

Hermione gasped at his side; her eyes wide as she took in the display of magic. He looked at her a little strangely for a moment before shrugging, he would ask her about it later. He turned to say goodnight to the Headmaster, as was only polite, but instead caught the old wizard staring sadly into the misty glass.

Just as they reached the door, and Harry was about to throw the cloak over both himself and Hermione, Harry thought he caught a glimpse of a man in Dumbledore's glasses. He had pale skin, and thick, white-blonde hair that was slicked back on top and shaved at the sides. He had a moustache on his top lip as he smirked cheekily, while his piercing, mismatched eyes stared unblinkingly.

Harry blinked and it was gone, and Dumbledore turned to look at him with a sad smile. Harry bowed politely, as he had been taught, and threw the cloak over his head before leading Hermione through the door.

Harry didn't remember much of the journey back to Gryffindor Tower, nor getting into his bed, so it was with a bit of surprise that he found himself waking to the soft cawing of his Phoenix companion. Clara nudged his cheek with her beak gently, and her dark eyes looked sadly down at him.

He sat up quickly and wrapped his arms around the bird, drawing her into his chest and ignoring the sharp poking of her talons as she hopped into his lap. He buried his face in her plumage and softly stroked down her back.

He pulled back after a moment and saw a small tear trail down her face. He wiped it away with a gentle swipe of his finger and kissed the crown of her head. "I'm here, girl. Sorry for worrying you."

Clara ruffled her feathers and gently nipped his ear. She hopped out of his arms and allowed him to go about his morning routine.

Once dressed, he moved toward the door, feeling fresher than any other day he had spent at Hogwarts – his clothes were perfectly presentable, his hair was neatly tied back, and his satchel hung from his shoulder. Today would be a difficult day, if only because he no doubt had so much to catch up on – he'd be damned if he let that comment from Hermione about being second in the class go unanswered.

The door opened and Harry was immediately swallowed in a hug from Neville, the boy spinning him around much like he had done in the dreamscape the Mirror of Erised had shown him. "Harry! Hermione told me you were back to normal! Oh, I've missed you so much!"

"Nev'le – ribs – breaking –" Harry gasped, kicking his feet a little as his toes searched for the floor. Neville dropped him with a bit of a blush and scratched the back of his head.

"Sorry – got a little carried away there."

"Don't worry about it." Harry chuckled, reaching down, and picking up his satchel. He looked up at his best friend as he stood back to his full height. "What have I missed?"

"Well, we have an essay due today for Magical Theory – something about how intent is different from desire, and the repercussions of it through spell-casting. I'm not sure, but Daphne and Hermione know more about it than I do." Neville shrugged, holding the door open for him as they made their way to the stairs for the Common Room.

"Well, I don't remember anything from the past month, so I think it unlikely I wrote the essay. I'll have to ask if I can hand it to her next lesson. Do you think Reyne will let me?"

"Beats me." Neville shrugged, their boots clicking on the marble stairs. "Hermione mentioned you didn't remember anything but didn't say why. What happened?"

Harry frowned a little and pursed his lips. "I'm not sure – I found a mirror, here in the castle." Harry replied before placing a hand on Neville's arm. The two stopped on the stairs, and Harry looked up and down them before he pulled his friend to the side. "It's called the Mirror of Erised." He whispered.

"That sounds like a daft name." Neville murmured, though he crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to be frowning in thought. "So, it was this mirror?"

"Aye. It… showed me things."

"Like what?"

"My family – what could have been, I suppose." Harry replied, his voice still low.

"Harry, where is it? I have to see it!" Neville said, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open a little. Harry thought he heard his heart break a little.

"I can't – I looked into it once, and I lost a month. I'd never let you suffer that." He began, only to be cut off by the boy opposite him.

"Harry – they're my parents, I have to know-"

"Dumbledore moved it."

"Bollocks!" Neville growled, running his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth on the step a little.

"I'm sorry." Harry sighed; his eyes trained on his friend.

"It's not your fault. It would have been nice though." Neville muttered, waving away his apology. Harry nodded sadly and let out a quiet sigh.

"That's not all – I don't think the mirror is from here."

"What, Hogwarts?" Neville asked, confused.

"No, no – as in Britain." Harry whispered with a pointed look. Harry watched as the words slowly sunk in – Neville's eyes went wide again, and his mouth formed an O.

"You mean it's from-"

"Yes! Or at least, I think so."

"How do you know?"

Harry frowned and placed his hands on his hips. "I don't know. It felt like Arpton Keep – it's the only way I can describe it."

"You still need to take me there, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes – Neville had been begging him to take him to Arpton ever since he had first told him and Daphne about the fortress and everything he had seen in it. "I'll take you this summer when I visit. Daphne too, if she wants."

"You'd better, Potter." Neville grinned excitedly. "Now come on, before Weasley eats all the food."

Harry laughed and let Neville drag him down the stairs as he rolled his eyes. While the comment itself was funny, it also wasn't inaccurate – Ron Weasley was sure to be responsible for half the school's food budget by the end of their seven years. How someone could have four servings of breakfast was utterly beyond him.

"Oh! Before I forget, I think I owe her this much…" Harry said, stopping for a moment and stepping into the middle of the stairway. "Clara!"

The bird appeared in a ball of flame above him, her wings beating steadily as her head turned this way and that, searching for the reason as to his call.

"How do you feel about coming to the Great Hall for breakfast, hm?" Harry offered, pointing to his shoulder – she would be heavy, he could manage her for the few minutes it would take for them to walk down the stairs. At the very least, she could fly around the moving stairs while they got to the Ground Floor.

It wasn't uncommon for familiars to join their bonded witch or wizard in the Hall for meals. Usually it was the dogs, or birds of prey such as Daphne's Merlin Hawke. He had avoided taking Clara down thus far in the year for the simple fact that he didn't want to cause a scene – but he felt like indulging the proud bird after everything that had happened. No doubt, she had been worried sick while he hadn't been himself.

She let out a soft caw as she lowered herself to his shoulder. He felt the weight immediately and winced a little. He gave a little grin to Neville and the two descended the last few steps. At the bottom, they were greeted by a thankfully empty Common Room – besides the bushy-haired witch that was perched on the far sofa with a book in her hand.

Neville chuckled at the sight. "Hermione – you able to put the book down and eat?"

Hermione looked up from the volume she was perusing and rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. "I'll have you know I can read and eat if I have to." She paused as she took in Harry and his familiar and she gave him a small smile. "Good morning Harry, Clara."

Clara let out a single squawk and sat a little taller, while Harry just rolled his eyes at the bird and offered Hermione a small smile in return. Harry's stomach rumbled a little and he winced as Neville and Hermione laughed quietly.

"Alright, let's get this one fed." Neville grinned, moving toward the door. Neville opened the portrait and allowed Hermione through first, her book clutched to her chest and her own satchel balanced precariously on her shoulder. Harry followed, sighing as Clara leapt from his shoulder and began to fly between the moving stairs.

"I'd forgotten how pretty she is when she's flying." Neville muttered, his eyes following the large bird as she ducked under a moving staircase with a twirl – the two Hufflepuffs gasping and leaning over the railing as she passed. All around them, the startled words of surprise and awe from the hundreds of portraits echoed around the large chamber.

"Ever noticed that she doesn't do too much flying in Care of Familiars?" Hermione asked, taking the lead as she began moving down the stairs.

Harry snorted. "Aye, she enjoys the treats and the attention too much."

"Harry, don't be so mean!"

"He's not being mean if it's true." Neville chuckled. "She's always enjoyed being made a fuss of. Used to drive Harry up the wall when he'd try to get her to do something."

"Like what?" Hermione asked, looking back at them as they came to the first landing.

Harry shrugged and shifted the strap of his satchel. "I played Fetch with her mostly in the beginning. Besides the ability to travel, at the time I didn't really know much about what they could do."

"Did you not have any books available?"

Neville snorted. "What?" He asked, as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "The book was pretty useless."

"Obviously, you had the wrong book." Hermione sighed, as if she were explaining something to a child.

"Hermione, there's only one book on Phoenix's. There's a reason they're so rare as familiars." Harry replied, skipping the last step as they stepped onto the landing of the fourth floor. "And I learned most of what people think about Phoenix's is wrong within the week after she'd matured."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Harry began with a shrug, stepping around a Ravenclaw that was heading in the other direction. "For one, the book claims Phoenix's are herbivores. It's bollocks,"

"Language!" Hermione hissed, looking at him furiously.

"They're omnivores but they prefer meat. A single look at Clara's beak and talons could tell you that – not to mention her eyes are at the front of her head, not at the sides." Harry sighed, ignoring Hermione's glare.

Harry glanced up and smiled as Clara flew through the air above them. He reached a hand out to steady Neville, who stumbled a little as he focused more on the Phoenix than where his feet were going.

"Like he said – they're rare. Most people go their entire lives without seeing a Phoenix – people will hunt for decades and not see a single feather. Harry's a lucky wizard." Neville grinned, playfully elbowing Harry before they continued down the stairs.

Once on the Ground Floor, the three of them quickly hurried to the Hall as Clara resumed her perch on his shoulder. No doubt she was enjoying it as she hadn't been able to sit with him since he first found her. He'd admit only to himself that he had missed it also – perhaps, when he was older, it could become a regular thing between them again.

The reaction to Clara as they entered the Hall was exactly as he had expected. Eyes were glued to them as they quickly moved to their benches – Daphne and Tracy standing from the Slytherin table to join them.

The occasional yip and bark of the various dogs in the Hall were the only sounds that reached them for a minute or so until Headmaster Dumbledore cleared his throat pointedly, stirring the Hall back into the comfortable buzz it had been. Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief and began piling bacon and sausages onto his plate for Clara.

The Phoenix, on the other hand, was comfortably perched on the table with her wings tucked into her body as she stood at her tallest. Harry rolled his eyes at her preening and held up a chunk of sausage on a fork. Immediately drawn to the meat, he watched as Clara's beak ripped and tore at it, before tossing her head back and throwing it down her gullet.

"You're going to spoil her for her regular food, you know." Daphne sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Don't come complaining to us when she refuses to hunt for herself."

"Bold of you to assume she isn't already spoiled." Tracy muttered, staring wistfully at the magnificent bird.

"Wrapped around her little talon, he is." Neville added solemnly as he dunked some toast into an egg.

"Do you guys really have nothing better to do right now?" Harry groaned, spearing a chunk of bacon.

"No." The three of them responded. Harry rolled his eyes and looked to Hermione, who had sat on his left, on the far side of Clara – it seemed her boast about reading and eating wasn't without merit. She was eating small bites of sliced fruit as she read from the book propped open against a glass goblet of orange juice.

Harry chuckled before his eyes caught the title at the top of the page and blinked in surprise. "Hermione, what are you doing reading about Wandless Magic? That's beyond even Hogwarts!"

"She's what?" Tracy gasped; her eyes wide as she choked on some food.

Hermione looked up and blushed a little. "I wanted to look into it a little, after last night." She replied, before looking at Harry. "You summoned your cloak to you without your wand."

"Hermione, I've been doing that for years – Merlin, Neville and Daphne can do it too. I'd bet even Tracy has done it once or twice."

Harry watched as the three nodded slowly. Daphne and Neville were a little confused, but Tracy seemed to understand better than anyone, it seemed.

"Harry, she's a Muggle-born. She wasn't raised with magic like we were."

Realisation dawned on their faces, and Harry found himself blushing a little. He had forgotten that about Hermione – she knew more than most Pureblood adults at times, it seemed. Harry reached out and picked up a green apple and a similar red one.

Passing the green apple to Hermione, he turned to face her as he held his own apple in his hand. "Okay, you understand everything we've been taught about magic so far, and you connected with your magic before the holiday, so this should be fairly easy for you."

Hermione's eyes widened a little at the sudden impromptu lesson and turned to face him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Clara began helping herself to the meat still on his plate.

"Okay, now, there's no spell for it and no incantation. It's simply directed intent. You have to want the apple to hover. Demand it." At this, Harry flickered his eyes to his own fruit and watched it slowly rise into the air above his palm, wobbling lazily in place.

He watched Hermione focus on her own apple, only to scowl at it when it wouldn't budge.

"No, no, relax. You'll pop an artery if you keep looking at it like that." Harry chuckled, directing his magic to move it slowly around Hermione's head before it slapped into his waiting palm. He took a bite out of it with a smile. "Relax."

Hermione blew out a puff of air and focused on the fruit in her hand again. This time, after a few moments, it lifted a few centimetres from her hand before dropping suddenly. "I did it!" She gasped, her smile beaming.

They all applauded her quietly with their own grins.

"I knew you'd manage it Hermione." Daphne winked. "Took Harry months to do it on purpose."

"Hey, I managed it as a baby!" Harry defended himself, scratching Clara under the chin for a moment.

"You did – but you always did it by accident after that until you were seven. I still remember having to duck out the way when you made those plates come flying at us." Neville grumbled.

"How you two ever survived without me is unfathomable." Daphne muttered, pulling a grape from a small bushel.

"You summoned plates?" Tracy demanded, leaning forward, and looking between the two boys.

"We were hungry." Neville muttered to himself as he stabbed at another egg with a bit of toast.

"In any event," Harry said a little louder than necessary, raising a brow at his group of friends. "You're doing well Hermione. Keep practicing and you'll be able to do it as well as any of us." He grinned.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically and turned back to her bowl of fruit and the book. Harry leaned back to Neville and whispered, "When did she get the chance to get that book?"

"Not sure – she already had it when I went downstairs this morning." Neville shrugged, causing Harry to frown a little. Had Hermione woken up early to go to the library, just because she'd seen him call his cloak to his hand? Who was he kidding – of course she had.

It wasn't much longer until the call for class rang out in the Hall. As it was a Wednesday, it meant Magical Theory was the first class of the day. He looked at Clara as he stood with the others and gave her a quick scratch before shouldering his bag. "I'll see you later. Off you get – go do whatever it is you Phoenixes do."

Clara leapt into the air and flew up towards the ceiling with powerful flaps of her wings before she was swallowed by flames. A moment later, and she was gone.

"Come on, Harry – let's see if we can get you that extra time on that essay." Neville sighed, clapping him on the shoulder gently.

The five of them walked through the halls of Hogwarts quickly enough. Daphne, Hermione, and Tracy led the way, the three girls walking side-by-side as they discussed something or another, while Harry and Neville were simply content to follow.

When they got to the classroom on the second floor, they found the rest of their year-group standing outside waiting to enter. All around, there were various expressions of boredom and tiredness – of course, Magical Theory wasn't a practical subject, though it did have its applications in every subject Hogwarts taught.

Harry found it fascinating – Neville always joked that Harry found every subject fascinating. While not wrong, Harry would never admit to such a thing. After all, he detested History of Magic with Professor Twinkle as much as the next student. Contrary to his name, he was anything but twinkling. He was dull and could make even the most exciting subject as interesting as watching a potion boil. At least he wouldn't have to suffer through his lesson until tomorrow – no doubt they would learn about another fascinating way of Magical Farming in twelfth-century Slovakia.

Harry leaned against the stone wall casually and let out a quiet sigh. At least in Magical Theory they learned useful and applicable things. Before the holidays, they had been exploring latent magic, and how it affected the senses of witches and wizards. It was all very interesting.

He knew that magic was in all living things, and to some degree a witch or wizard could sense the intent of a creature easily enough. It wasn't just creatures it was limited to either – it was also common between humans, though they were far more difficult. If the witch, or wizard, was about to be attacked, their magic would warn them. Sometimes it was that warning that saved their life.

"Enter!" The voice of Professor Reyne called through the door. Immediately, the class began filtering through. As usual, the first students through the door were Ravenclaws, quickly followed by a medley of Hufflepuff and Slytherin students with the Gryffindor contingent bringing up the rear.

They entered the auditorium-style classroom quickly enough – none of them wanting to attract the ire of the Professor who was standing before a large chalkboard. They filtered through the rows of benches until they found their usual spot – halfway down and in the centre of the room with a clear view of the board.

Daphne lead their group, followed by Hermione and then Tracy. Harry followed Tracy in, and Neville just behind him. Once the scraping of the benches died down and the rustling of parchment settled to manageable levels, Professor Reyne greeted the class.

"Good morning Professor Reyne." The class responded as one – some more enthusiastic than others.

"Your assignment will be handed in at the end of class and your grades shall be handed back to you next week. Now, for today's lesson – Foci."

Harry scribbled the word onto the top of his sheet of parchment with his quill and underlined it.

"Now, what can you all tell me about foci?" The blonde-haired witch asked the class. "Anyone?"

Harry raised his hand slowly and cleared his throat when the woman nodded at him. "Well, theoretically anything could be a magical focus. The most common in Britain, historically, are wands, staves, swords, and daggers."

"Excellent answer, Mr. Potter. Five points."

The Gryffindors cheered quietly.

"Now, does anyone know why some are preferred over others?"

Draco Malfoy raised his hand on the left side of the room while his gathering of Slytherin's looked on.

"Mr. Malfoy."

"Wands are the most common because they're the easiest to make and bond to a witch or wizard."

"Very well done – two points."

Susan Bones raised her hand on the far right of the class. Despite knowing that Sirius was betrothed to her Aunt, Harry still hadn't had the opportunity to speak to Susan – though, in all fairness, she hadn't gone out of her way to speak to him either. Professor Reyne nodded at the Hufflepuff girl.

"Swords don't conduct magic well, and neither do daggers. Wands and staves are the best because of the wood and the cores of such things. Furthermore, staves don't require a core like wands because they tend to have a focus at the top – the most common being rare gems."

"Excellent answer – ten points to Hufflepuff."

Harry thought he heard Hermione huff as she put her hand down on the other side of Tracy. From Tracy's quiet giggles, he figured he had heard right.

The lesson continued on easily enough. They learned that while staves were capable of much more powerful magic, it was inherently less accurate, and swords and daggers could only channel passive magic.

There was only fifteen minutes of the lesson left, when there was a knock on the door and Harry already had almost three sheets of notes. He looked up at the noise and looked towards the door, much as the rest of the room had done.

"Enter!" Professor Reyne called. The door clicked open and there stood Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Ah, sorry to interrupt, Professor – but I was hoping to borrow young Mr. Potter."

All eyes in the room turned to him and he felt his face flush in heat.

"Of course, Headmaster. Potter, gather up your things."

Harry nodded and quickly tidied his things away into his bag. At Neville's confused look, Harry simply shrugged and threw his satchel over his shoulder. He edged past Neville and the three other students on their row before taking the stairs two at a time as he hurried toward the door.

Dumbledore smiled softly and stepped into the hallway, and Harry followed – making sure the door closed behind him.

"Headmaster?" Harry asked, confused.

"I have something for you in my office – something I think you'll be most pleased about."

Harry nodded and simply followed the Headmaster through the corridors in silence. They walked up to the seventh floor, and Harry felt the burn in his legs. It wasn't much longer until they were before a large stone gargoyle. Dumbledore muttered a word and the stone statue stepped to the side. Harry quickly followed the Headmaster as he stepped onto a rising spiral staircase.

The stone steps stopped their grinding ascent, and Dumbledore stepped through a simple wooden door. Harry followed, his eyes darting around the spartan foyer as the Headmaster pushed open an ornate pair of oak doors, each covered in the most gorgeous golden embellishments of the four houses he had ever seen. The gold almost looked alive under the floating balls of white light.

Harry looked up as he found himself once more in Dumbledore's office, Fawkes cawed at him from his golden perch.

Harry's eyes were drawn to the figure by the hearth. His silver hair was unmistakable, as was the armour that he wore.

"Arcturus!" Harry cried, dropping his bag, and sprinting to the patriarch of the Black family.

Arcturus turned with a smile and let out a huff as Harry collided with him. Harry looked up and saw the longer than normal stubble and dark circles around his eyes.

"I'll leave you both to catch up, I think. Feel free to use this office for as long as you require – the portraits will remain asleep." Dumbledore spoke. Harry looked over his shoulder to see the ancient man smiling slightly before bowing and leaving the room. Harry spun back to Arcturus as the door clicked shut.

"Where were you? What happened? What did you do? Is Sirius alright? Is he here?" Harry asked quickly, looking around the room for a moment before Arcturus began chuckling and led him to a pair of chairs at the desk. Harry blushed a little and cleared his throat. "Sorry." He grinned.

"Don't worry yourself about it. I'm just as excited to see you." Arcturus sighed, reclining in the chair, and closing his eyes for a moment as he relaxed. "It's been a long month, Harry."

"Where were you?"

"The Capitol."

Harry blinked. "You and Sirius both had to go?" He asked, slowly as his shoulders tensed. Whatever reason they were summoned, it likely hadn't been a good one.

"Aye – we both went. Viscount Trevelyan summoned us – Someone was spreading of you planning a rebellion."

Harry's mind screeched to a halt as his jaw worked, but no sound came out. "Rebellion?" He finally managed.

"Rebellion." Arcturus nodded slowly before he sat forward, his hands clasped together between his legs. "Sirius and I set them straight."

"What did you do?"

"What we did isn't important. I spent the month playing politics and talking to Lords and Ladies in private – I only spoke directly to Lord Trevelyan twice, believe it or not."

"But if they think I'm planning a rebellion, they'll think-" Harry went quiet and stared open-mouthed at Arcturus, who was nodding slowly.

"Aye, they implied that, and worse, but don't you worry." Arcturus grunted roughly as he shifted in his chair a little. "They had no evidence, and besides, we know that you're doing no such thing."

"If they had no evidence, then why would they say I am?"

Arcturus sighed and rubbed at his forehead tiredly. "Because that's politics. They hoped to slander your name for some reason or another – why it's been brought up now rather than years ago, I don't know."

Harry shifted in his seat a little. "The two of you are alright though, right?"

"Oh, we're fine." Arcturus smiled, waving away his concern with a tired smile. "Exhausted, annoyed and more than a little fed up, but we're fine. I had Sirius get some rest while I came to see you."

Harry stood and wrapped his arms around Arcturus again, squeezing as tightly as he could. "I missed you both."

"We're back now, Harry. We're back."