Harry Potter and the Daoine Sìth

This fiction is beta'd by smirking_muse.

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Chapter Five

Harry ran through the hallways unaware that Draco had followed him out of the breakfast room. When he reached his room, he opened the door forcefully and bolted into it. He had every intention of grabbing Hedwig and returning to Snape right away. But now he allowed himself a moment of reflection, since he was finally alone.

Harry was elated at having bested Professor Snape. However, he was still hurt and angry with the man for having nearly revealed who his mate was. It was none of the man's business, and Harry had not been ready for Draco to know. Harry was almost positive that Draco had figured it out. He had not been able to look the other boy in the face since Snape's near revelation. He had meant what he had said to his mother. Harry had wanted to give Draco time to get to know him. After all, they had not been friends at Hogwarts. In fact, they had been bitter enemies. Harry knew that occasionally time and space dulled rough edges, but he also knew that sometimes it made things sharper and clearer. His biggest fear was that Draco would not want to be with Harry, because he still hated or disliked him.

He walked slowly over to Hedwig's perch, confused by his churning emotions.

“Something troubles you, Harry?”

Harry looked over to the nearby tank. His snake, Snape, was lounging on the rock in the centre of the large glass enclosure. The reptile's head was peering over the edge of the tank to stare at him. Harry smiled at the black adder.

“Hullo, Snape. How are you this morning?” Harry questioned as he moved closer to the snake. “Did the elves feed you?”

“Yes, they did, although the white mice give me flatulence. You shall inform the green-twitchers that I prefer nice, fat rats.” The snake nodded its head, confirming its own statement. Harry grinned at the snake's antics.

“Are we going to Hogwarts?” Snape asked.

“Yeah, yeah, we are. Today I think.”

“And this is what has you troubled – or is it Whitey?”

“Whitey?!” Harry looked incredulously at his pet.

“I speak of the human who stayed with you last night.”

“Oh, Draco. I'm not sure he'd appreciate being called Whitey, Snape.”

“I do not care,” the black adder sniffed haughtily. “He is your mate. Is he not?”

Harry glared momentarily at the snake. Once again, he was convinced that he had given the stubborn creature the right name. “Do you suppose you could call him Draco, please?”

“No, I could not.”

Harry sighed. Just as he could not get Snape to stop calling the house-elves ‘green-twitchers,' he resigned himself to hearing ‘Whitey' when speaking with the cantankerous snake. “Fine,” he huffed.

“You have disregarded my question, Harry. I am not mere decoration to be ignored,” the snake snipped.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn't ignore what you said. You just caught me off-guard with ‘Whitey', is all!” Harry said crossly. The snake merely blinked its amber eyes, awaiting a response. “Alright, alright – yes, Draco is my mate.”

“I do not like him,” Snape replied. “He will divide more of your attention away from me, and I already have to share with that flying menace.” Harry found himself rolling his eyes again. “But, I suppose it does not matter what I want. You will do as you wish.”

“It's not like I have much choice, Snape. He's my mate, the one I'm destined to be with.” Harry leaned against the table beside the tank. The snake reached its head out and rested it on Harry's shoulder.

“Then what troubles you?” Snape asked. “I can smell your distress, Harry.”

“It’s just that Professor Snape almost told Draco that he was my mate! I wasn't ready to let him know just yet.”

This Professor Snape has a prestigious and scholarly sounding name that makes him seem. It follows that he would be a reasonable and intelligent man. I should like to meet him,” the snake hissed in Harry's ear. “Why would you not want to tell Whitey he is your mate?”

Harry growled in frustration. “Because I’m not ready to tell him! I wanted Draco to get to know me better BEFORE the added pressure of knowing he was my mate!”

“You are afraid,” the snake surmised. “You are afraid he will not want to be your mate.”

Harry's shoulders slumped, causing the snake to lose its purchase. “Stupid half-ling!” he hissed nastily.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

“You should be more careful with me!”

“I said I was sorry!” Harry cried as he reached in and pulled the snake the rest of the way out of the tank. Snape immediately wound himself around Harry's arm, hissing his displeasure. Harry walked over to his bed and lay down on his side, letting the snake curl up beside him. “I am sorry,” he said again, glancing down at the snake.

“You should be,” the snake said irritably, as he settled himself more comfortable on the bed. “Now, tell me why you are afraid.”

“I don't know,” Harry whined, rolling onto his back.

“You are lying,” Snape stated. The snake stretched its body, placing its head directly in front of Harry's face. “You will tell me and cease this deception, or I shall not endeavour to assist you any further.”

Harry sighed. The snake could be a real pain in the arse sometimes. Yet, Harry knew Snape was right, and no matter how short-tempered the reptile could be, he had often helped Harry with his problems. “I'm afraid Draco won't like me,” he whispered pathetically. “What if he doesn't, Snape?! I don't know what I'll do if my mate hates me!”

“Foolish half-ling,” the snake hissed. “Whitey will be honoured to be the mate of such a powerful one as you. I do not like Whitey, but I do not believe he is a complete idiot.”

“Why should he be honoured? Listen, Snape, he's not going to want to be stuck with me!! I'm a boy!! I don't even know if he likes boys that way!”

The snake merely looked at Harry coolly. “Why would fate give you a mate that would not want to be with you?”

Harry hadn't thought of that before. Why would fate do that? That would be terribly unfair. Then again, when had fate ever been fair to Harry Potter? There was a long list of black marks beside fate's name in Harry's books: his parent's murders, the Dursleys and right at the top, the cause of all Harry’s misfortunes, Voldemort. It was only the past four years that Harry had been truly happy – and now fate had thrown him a mate, and not just anyone, no, but Draco Malfoy, a boy that had despised Harry. Harry was beginning to believe that fate had it out for him. He just wasn't meant to be happy. Whenever he got too happy, that irascible fate would step in and pull the rug out from underneath him.

“You have company,” Snape said, interrupting Harry's contemplation. Harry sat up and looked toward the door to see Draco standing there with a curious look on his face. Harry blushed slightly, having been caught talking about the other boy, until he remembered that Draco didn't speak Parseltongue.

He sat up and said softly, “Hi.”

The blond boy smirked at Harry. “Do you often natter on with that snake?” Draco asked as he walked toward Harry.

Harry glanced back at Snape, who had started hissing angrily, “Did Whitey just imply that I natter? You will inform that imbecile that I discourse, discuss, advise, speak, deliberate, debate, colloquy or converse, but I would never natter!”

Harry chuckled and looked back up at Draco. “Yeah, I do.” Snape hissed angrily again. “Um – Snape wanted me to tell you that he does not natter.”

Draco looked oddly at Harry for a moment. “Oh, the snake!” he finally exclaimed. “You may tell him I apologise.”

Harry giggled again. “You might want to address Snape himself, Draco. He can understand you, you know.”

Snape slithered off the bed, hissing about ‘idiotic humans.' He proceeded to climb back into his tank, coil into a tight ring, and ignore the two boys.

~~~~~~

“Where is the blasted boy with the promised owl?!” Snape growled.

“Do try to remember, Severus, that the ‘blasted boy' is my son,” Carlin responded in a sing-song voice. Snape scowled at her.

The Queen gave Aberforth, who was still seated at the table, a knowing look. “I'll just be off ter check on the lad, then,” the old man said, standing and moving toward the door. “Want ter make sure he packs what he needs.” He made his excuses and left Snape and Carlin alone.

Carlin was still sitting across from Severus. Her expression was contemplative and, quite honestly, unnerved Snape. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. He had a good idea that Carlin was none too happy with his outbursts this morning, and for reasons he did not understand yet, this upset him. The last time he had felt chastised by a mere look had been when Lily had been alive. He had strongly believed no one would ever be able to do such a thing to him again. He was beginning to realise that Carlin and Lily were very much alike, and yet, they were still so very different. The two women were intelligent, witty and charming. Luckily for him, they both had a wealth of patience and an immense kindness that came naturally to them. And they were both quite beautiful. Carlin's long, dark curls and lavender eyes were a stark contrast to Lily's auburn waves and bright green eyes. Lily had a fiery temper when provoked, whereas Carlin had a quiet, cool anger. Having been on the opposite end of both their ire, he preferred the fiery one, since at least then he had known where he stood.

“Speak your mind, Carlin,” he hissed, though with no real venom.

She quirked her brow at him, “I am considering where to begin with you, Severus,” she said, clasping her hands together on the table top in front of her. “Perhaps if you would explain your foul attitude toward Harry, I might know where to start.”

Snape peevishly crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from her. “The boy is arrogant and self-centred!” he snarled. “He is a spoilt and reckless rapscallion, just like his father!”

Carlin sat back and observed him for a moment before she sighed heavily. “Oh, Severus, how far from right can one be?!”

“Now see here, Carlin…”

“No, Severus,” she cut him off. “You do not know that child at all. You had him in your class for what? Nine months?!” He nodded his head absently. “I told you last night that you were not correct in your assumptions about Harry's past, and yet, you still foolishly spout such vile nonsense.”

Feeling somewhat unjustly chastised, Snape glared across the table at Carlin. “The imp obviously has you hoodwinked, Carlin!”

“Hoodwinked? Oh, Severus, you cannot be serious?!” Snape opened his mouth to respond, but the Queen wouldn't allow it. She held up her hand in a plea for him not to speak. Though he did not appreciate the gesture, Snape nodded his head for her to continue. “Harry is not James, a croí, far from it. If he was spoilt at all, it was well before the child can remember.” Carlin's eyes softened somewhat as she watched Snape. “The Dursleys were not kind to Harry, Severus. I would say at the very worst they despised him and at the very least they resented him.” She rose from her chair and walked around to stand in front of the Severus. “I know that James Potter was unkind to you, even cruel, but you must separate Harry from James. Harry never knew his father long enough to be influenced at all by him. Having met James Potter, I would say that Harry must be far more like Lily.”

Snape frowned at her words. Lily had been his only ‘love' all these many years. She had been able to look past his shortcomings and idiosyncrasies to see someone worth knowing. He had resigned himself to never again feeling as though he belonged – until now. He found it hard to believe that Harry possessed the same qualities his mother had.

“Oh, but Severus, he does,” Carlin said, reading his thoughts. Snape gave her a look of disapproval. “I am sorry, dear-heart. I cannot help it at times. Let me tell you about Harry, and you shall judge for yourself if I am right.” Severus merely shrugged his shoulders, feeling defeated and jaded. Carlin smiled at him sympathetically, brushing her fingers along his cheek gently before she continued.

“Some of this may be hard to believe, Severus, but believe me when I say that it is the truth. When Harry came to live with the Dursleys, his room, or I should say that the place they chose to keep the child, was a broom cupboard.” Snape looked up sharply, Carlin merely nodded, confirming her statement. “From the time he was fifteen months until he received his Hogwarts letter, Harry slept there. They never told Harry the truth about his parents’ deaths, or that they, and he, were magical. What they did tell him was that his parents died in a car accident and that James was an unemployed lay-a-bout and a drunkard. Harry's young life consisted of doing a long list of impossible chores. He cooked, cleaned and functioned as the Dursleys’ slave. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley used food as a weapon, often not feeding the child at all. Harry's clothes were the cast-offs of his older and much larger cousin. He was told that they would not spend money on a ‘worthless freak.' While Mr. and Mrs. Dursley only physically hurt Harry on occasion, his cousin often did. Dudley Dursley and his band of friends had a game they called ‘Harry hunting.' Harry never received a birthday present or Christmas gift from the Dursleys in the entirety of the time he spent with them. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley lavished all their love and attention on their own child and ignored the needs of their nephew.

“They verbally abused Harry every day for the ten years Harry spent with them. They locked him away in a cupboard, starved him and used him. And yet, Severus, Harry is not bitter – scarred maybe, but not bitter. He still has the most overwhelming ability to love and to be loved. He is kind and thoughtful. He stoutly defends those who cannot defend themselves. Tell me, a croí, does that not sound more like Lily?”

Snape stared at the woman in disbelief. Could he have been wrong about the boy? Of course he could have! He had never given the child a chance, had he? Harry had shown up that first day looking so very like James Potter that Snape had taken an immediate dislike to the boy. Snape was sure that he had also observed flashes of what he had considered that Potter arrogance though. He was also having difficulty believing that Albus Dumbledore would have left the blessed saviour of the wizarding world with guardians that would have abused the child, and he said as much.

“I cannot believe that the Headmaster would leave a wizard child, especially Harry Potter, in such a situation, Carlin!”

Carlin shook her head sadly at his stubbornness. “Do you believe that Harry told me all of this? I saw it with my own eyes in his mind, Severus!” she exclaimed heatedly. “Ask your blasted Headmaster, if you do not believe me.”

Carlin walked briskly back to her chair and sat down. She shook her head wearily before looking toward Severus again. Feeling slightly castigated, Snape waited for her to gather herself. “I do try to control the ability to see others' thoughts, Severus, but Harry was so damaged when he came to me that in order to help him, I found it necessary to delve into his mind. I know about which I speak, and I am positive that Albus knew Harry's situation. I am sure he has his own reasons for leaving a child in such an abusive situation; however, in my mind’s eye, it is unconscionable. And believe me, Severus; I shall be having words with the Headmaster when we meet.” Severus did not doubt her. She had been in and out of his own mind without him having been aware of it. He suddenly found he did not want to argue with her further.

“I should like to be present when you speak with Albus,” he told her, hoping this would end their discussion. She nodded her head in agreement.

“Now, I should like to make arrangements for our journey through the forest, but first, is there anything else you would like to know, Severus?” Carlin asked.

There were many things Snape wanted to know. However, there had been one thing that had been pressing on his mind since the evening before.

“Why James Potter?” he blurted unashamedly. “If I am your mate, why James? And why have you waited so long to tell me?”

~~~~~~

The two boys had been sitting silently beside each other on the edge of the bed for quite some time. Harry was once again studying his mate. He had been truly shocked to discover that his mate would be a male and nearly devastated that it was to be Draco Malfoy, but then his mother had taken him aside and discussed the matter with him. She had told him that his mate would complete him perfectly and that if Draco was his mate, then the boy must have changed in the years since Harry had seen him last. Harry had been very sceptical, but to his delight, she had been right. This blond boy sitting beside him was nothing like the spoilt git he had met all those years ago. This boy didn't sneer all the time. He smiled, a lot. And when he did, his entire face lit up and his eyes sparkled. And those eyes! They were no longer the cold, calculating steel gray he remembered. No, Draco's eyes held warmth and humour that Harry was sure was not there before. They were not merely gray but flecked with a pale blue that reminded Harry of a winter sky.

Harry allowed his mind to wander back to the evening before. When he had emerged from the toilet and discovered Draco looking over his desk. The blond boy had his face turned away from Harry, and he had been wearing the deep blue trousers the faery had handed him earlier. And nothing else. Harry had never thought he would be attracted to another boy, but in that moment, with Draco's tall, lean form backlit by the ambient glow from the window, allowing his pale hair to shimmer in the dimmed light, Harry had felt a deep attraction to Draco. The other boy was truly handsome- devastatingly so. This revelation had unnerved Harry. He could imagine that Draco had no end of admirers back at Hogwarts and would not look favourably on being tied to a single person at their young age. For Harry, there was no choice. To be truly happy and content in life, he would need his mate. The same might not be true for Draco.

Draco shifted on the bed, leaning back and using his elbows to prop himself up. “You're staring again,” he said.

“I know. I'm sorry.” Harry reclined back onto his side to face Draco.

“Is it because I'm your mate?” Draco asked, quietly.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, not the least bit surprised that Draco had figured it out.

Draco turned toward Harry. “Are you upset that it's me?”

“Not anymore.”

Both boys were speaking in hushed tones, speaking only to and for one another.

“But you were?”

“Yes.” Draco raised a concerned brow at that answer. “You've changed from what I remember,” Harry added quickly. “I – I like you now, very much.”

“Then why didn't you want me to know?” Draco reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair from Harry's forehead, allowing his fingers to trail down the edge of the faery boy's face and along his jaw.

“I was afraid,” Harry said in a gasp of breath as the fingers brushed against his skin.

“Of what?” Draco moved closer.

“That you wouldn't want me.”

“That was very foolish of you, Harry,” Draco said as he moved impossibly closer. “Why would I not want you?”

“I – I'm a boy.” Harry trembled with anxiety at being so close to his heart's chosen one.

“Does this matter?” Draco asked. As his gray eyes locked with Harry's, they were full of emotions – concern, warmth, kindness, determination, and Harry was nearly overwhelmed. “In the wizarding world, Harry, there is no prejudice against such things.”

“There isn't?”

“Not anymore.”

Harry could feel the other boy’s breath on his face as he stared into Draco's eyes until Draco leaned in further and his lips touched Harry's. The kiss was chaste, and yet, so very intimate, a mere brush of lips until Draco's hand slid into Harry's hair and pulled the boy closer…

“Now that's enough of that!” The boys jumped apart and looked toward the door to see Aberforth Dumbledore standing there, a twinkle in his eye and a devilish grin on his face. “That boy's not of age yet and I ‘spect neither are you, Malfoy,” he growled as he entered the room.

“Professor Snape's waitin' on that owl, Harry. Budge along now, you know he don' like ter be kept waitin'. And I'm right sick of listen' ter him grouse.”

~~~~~~

Carlin hesitated before she answered Severus. “You know that the Daoine Sìth, for good reasons, have stayed out of wizard conflicts since Merlin's time.” Snape nodded. “That does not mean that we have not played our part at certain times. We have had visions, and when appropriate, we have acted on them. We here in the Bárd have more so than others, due mainly to our proximity to Hogwarts.” Snape nodded again, though he could hardly see what any of this had to do with fornicating with James Potter.

“Many years ago I had a dream vision.” She paused and appeared to be considering her words. “I dreamt of a stag. In my vision, the stag and its mate, a beautiful white doe, had a fawn. They were immensely happy together. But then the dream changed, and the family was being hunted through the forest by an evil basilisk. The stag died defending its family and then the doe sacrificed herself to save her fawn. My dream vision shifted suddenly and the fawn was replaced by a dark-haired, green-eyed human baby boy and the basilisk became your Lord Voldemort. Voldemort attempted to kill the babe but the curse rebounded, and he was defeated instead. As you can imagine, at the time it made no sense at all. I consulted with Mab and she believed the vision was incomplete.

“Two years later, the vision began to complete itself. First I dreamt of the stag, running through the forest with a werewolf and a large black dog. I was puzzled at first, for a werewolf is seldom accompanied by any thing other than other wolves. Then, two nights later, the stag appeared again to transform into a young man, with dark, messy hair, hazel eyes and spectacles. In this vision, I accepted the stag/man into my bed and conceived a daughter. Years later, the babe from the first vision appeared at the foot of the hawthorn tree as a young boy. He was battered, bruised, and near death, and I aided the child.” She looked at Snape. “A fortnight later, I dreamt of my daughter laughing and playing with her younger brother, teaching the child to be just that, a child.”

Snape snorted. “Are you telling me that you fucked James Potter so his son would have a playmate?” he snarled.

“Don't be vulgar, Severus,” Carlin said crossly, brushing aside his comment. “After the last dream, I consulted Mab again. We both felt strongly that the boy was special and important to the wizards and worthy of the Daoine Sìth's assistance. We decided that should I encounter the stag, I would follow my instincts. So, when the very same stag wandered into the Bárd, I did just that, Severus. Sorcha gives Harry the one thing that no one else can, a croí, a family born of blood that loves him. That is something the Dursleys never gave the boy. It was why the stag was sent to me, Severus. Don't you see that? My vision was to help Harry after he defeated Voldemort. That is what the dream was telling me – the one thing I could give the child, which would mean more than anything else, was a family that loved him.”

Snape's scowl deepened as he mulled over her words. He could not argue with her reasoning, and therefore, he aired his final major issue. “Why not come to me sooner?” he spat out, more hurt than angry.

“Ah, dearest Severus,” Carlin began, shaking her head amusedly, “When I dreamt of you before my quickening, it was of this man sitting before me, not the youth you were. I knew I would have to wait a very long time for you, mate of mine. Did you expect me to be chaste all that time?”

Snape was not pouting! The blasted woman had a point. And he was certainly NOT jealous of James Potter. James was dead and in the past. Perhaps it was time for Snape to leave him there.

“Did you really want a virgin in your bed last night?” Carlin laughed. However, before Snape could answer, two very flushed and agitated boys entered the room, one carrying a snowy-white owl.

“What has happened?” Carlin asked the boys in concern.

“NOTHING!” they both shouted suspiciously at once.

Draco stood off to one side looking guilty. Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Draco Malfoy, what is wrong?”

Draco looked at Severus carefully before saying, “Nothing, Professor, what's wrong with you?”

“Nothing!” Severus snapped.

“Exactly,” Draco replied somewhat cheekily. Harry snickered as he placed his owl on the table in front of Snape along with parchment, a quill and ink.

Snape gave his student a dark look before as he set about writing his letter, and Harry turned to Gyre-Carlin, “Mother, do I have time to show Draco the glen? The elves are finishing my packing, and I promised him last night,” he added hurriedly.

“I believe you have an hour or so but no longer. We will be leaving when the unicorns arrive, and you know they hate to be kept waiting.”

Snape looked up at the woman, exasperated. “Unicorns?” he said.

“Well, Severus, we do want to make an entrance, do we not?”

Severus was about to retort until he realised the effort would be futile. He shook his head and went back to his letter. Perhaps he would omit that they would be arriving on unicorn back.

~~~~~~

It had been two hours since Severus' Patronus had appeared in Albus Dumbledore's office. He had immediately summoned his deputy and Harry's former head of house, Professor McGonagall. She had been gobsmacked, to say the least, and now she, he, and the Malfoy's were waiting nervously for the promised owl.

Albus had briefly argued with Lucius Malfoy as to whether they should contact the Ministry of Magic, but luckily Narcissa had stepped in and staid her husband's hand. She had explained that Harry would be overwhelmed, and that they should wait and see what Severus had to say in his owl before acting rashly. Lucius had reluctantly agreed.

The atmosphere in the room was one of concerned anticipation. For Albus, the sorrow that had claimed his heart when Harry had disappeared four years ago was slowly leaving him, to be replaced by a quiet hope and relief.

Relief that Harry was alive and that he would be home soon. Hope that the child, or he should say the young man, had been somewhere safe and that he was in good health. Hope that Harry would forgive him for the life the poor boy had been destined to live before he had disappeared.

He wondered where Severus had stumbled across the boy. Had he been taken in by a hermit who might be living in the wood? Though unlikely, maybe the centaurs had taken in the human child. He was certain Harry was not with the Daoine Sìth, for he had gone personally to the Camhanaich Bárd looking for the boy that very night. The Queen had not been there, but a familiar looking dark-haired faery had told him that Harry was not in the Bárd. Well no matter, he would have his answers soon.

Right on cue, a white owl flew through the office window. Albus smiled at the creature. Professor McGonagall gasped.

“That's Harry's owl!” she exclaimed, none too calmly. The owl in question hooted and held out its leg to the Headmaster. The four of them gathered close to the desk as Dumbledore removed the note and read aloud.

“Headmaster,

I am sure the Malfoys are with you. Please inform them that Draco is unharmed and that he shall be serving detention when we return for his disobedience. I had not intended for him to travel with me into the forest. Indeed, I had forbidden him to accompany me, and by the time I had discovered his insubordination, it had been too late to return him to the safety of Hogwarts. I regret that I was remiss in notifying the school that the recalcitrant youth was with me, and for this, I do apologise, Albus.”

The Malfoys exchanged a relieved glance, and Albus gave them a knowing look. He quickly returned to the letter.

“As for Harry Potter – when we arrived in the Camhanaich Bárd, we were greeted graciously by their Queen, Gyre-Carlin. She accepted our offering and asked us to join in the Beltane celebrations. It was at this time we discovered that Harry Potter was among the Sìth. In fact, he is one of them. Yes, Headmaster, Potter has wings.

According to Gyre-Carlin, the boy arrived in the meadow that night near death. Her only chance to save Potter's life was to take him to the Seelie Court. She consulted with the highest of the fae, Queen Mab. Yes, Headmaster, that Mab. Gyre-Carlin has told me that Mab created a potion infused with blood from Mab herself and Gyre-Carlin. This potion, as you can imagine, had a significant impact on Potter, and he is now Sìth, or at least, partly so. We can go into further detail when we arrive.

Gyre-Carlin felt it was in Potter's best interest to remain with her for a time. On this point, Headmaster, I am inclined to agree with her.

We will be arriving late this afternoon. Our party will consist of Draco and me, of course, in addition to Potter, Gyre-Carlin, and one not so unfamiliar guest. Gyre-Carlin will be staying at Hogwarts with your grace, Headmaster, and I will discuss that matter with you personally at a later time.

S.S.

P.S. Please inform Narcissa that all went well and to plan for a February birth.”

The Headmaster placed the letter on the desk. He was none too pleased that he had apparently been misled.

“I thought you went to the Bárd that night, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“I did,” he answered with a note of displeasure. “Gyre-Carlin has much to explain,” he added as he summoned a house-elf to prepare rooms for their guests.

Lucius was startled from his contemplations when his wife's hand slid into his own. He glanced at Narcissa. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and a small smile turned the corners of her mouth slightly as though she hid a secret joy. Lucius held his breath momentarily; he could not remember his very attractive wife looking as beautiful as she did this very moment.

~~~~~~

Out on the castle grounds, two Gryffindor students were making their way from greenhouse three to the entrance hall. An intelligent-looking girl with bushy brown hair looked up. She stopped dead in her tracks and nudged her companion, a tall and lanky red-head. “Ron, look,” she said, pointing upwards. The young man did as he was told.

“It's an owl, Hermione,” he said, somewhat confused by her sudden interest in owls, despite that they were an everyday occurrence at Hogwarts. “Come on, we'll be late for Charms.”

“Not just any owl, Ronald. It's a white owl,” she said significantly.

“So?”

“Uhrr. How many white owls do you know of?”

Ron Weasley paused for a moment and contemplated. Granted, white owls were unusual and not common to Britain. He actually could only remember ever seeing one snowy owl and that had been Harry Potter’s. Ron felt his jaw drop. “Harry,” he whispered.

“Exactly, Ronald,” Hermione said excitedly. The two students clasped hands and took off at a run for the school entrance.


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