Time's Child 5 - fic stuff for those interested

[draegyn]

Long over due, I do apologise to those who were waiting.

Severus threw the book down on the pile and growled. Lupin, damn his eyes, glanced over at him in sympathy which Severus neither wanted nor needed. He did not snarl at the idiot Gryffindor though, because that was what had landed him in this position in the first place. That and the sadistic prick, Dumbledore.

He glared at the bent head of the supervisor. Whatever Dumbledore was reading, it had to be an improvement over the tripe Severus had to sift though in order to conclude this useless list. They had been at this for six days, six! Rumour had it that most of the quarantined students would be returning to class at the start of the next week but Severus would still be burdened with this blasted list even then. He hated Lupin for getting him into this situation, he detested McGonagall for making him keep coming back and he loathed Dumbledore Jr. for coming up with the idea in the first place!

“There isn’t a score of recorded alliances in these books!” he ground out, patience snapping. “How, in Merlin’s name, do you expect us to find one hundred?”

“One hundred and thirty-five,” Lupin mouthed, reminding Severus of their debacle on the second day.

Severus ignored him and glared at the other wizard present. “Dumbledore!” he snapped angrily. The wizard wasn’t a teacher, he had no right to put him through this!

“Hm?” Dumbledore Jr. looked up reluctantly. “You bellowed?”

“How long must we persist in this futile endeavour?!”

Dumbledore’s face took on a pensive cast. “Considering your current rate of progress… I’d guess about another two months.”

Severus paled. The lunatic could not be serious! “You-”

If he’d had the mind to think of it, Severus might have conceded that he was fortunate that Lupin interrupted him there. At the time, thought, he was too incensed to think clearly.

“Snape’s right, Sir,” Lupin said unnecessarily. “I don’t think there’s thirty examples in any of these books that fits your criteria, let alone a hundred.”

Dumbledore had the gall to nod as if they were telling him something he already knew. “I suspected as much.”

“Then why make us keep trying when you knew this was impossible?!” Severus demanded, standing and trying to loom over the irritating wizard.

Dumbledore looked at him as though he thought they were being extremely dense. “Because there are sources other than books.” He paused and looked faintly wistful for an instant before he shook it off. He twinkled at them in amusement. “Did neither of you consider getting examples any other way? There’s nothing in the rules to prevent you…”

Lupin looked dumbfounded and Severus could have hit himself. They could have asked around. After five years, even their own classmates had to have been involved in a couple of instances. They could have engineered some examples! Hell, they could have lied!!

Apparently the conversation was over. Dumbledore bent his head and returned to whatever book he was reading and Lupin looked at Severus in disbelief.

“I feel very stupid.”

“You are,” Severus spat but it was a half-hearted reply as he wasn’t feeling particularly intelligent at that moment either. Lupin, damn him, was perceptive enough, for a Gryffindor, to see that Severus had no real malice in him at that time and did not take offence.

“So how are we going to do this?” his unwilling partner asked. “We have to actually be here during this time right?” Lupin looked at their supervisor. “I mean we can’t go looking for other sources during this time period right?”

Dumbledore’s perpetually disordered mop remained bent over the page he was reading. “Dumbledore?” Severus tried to get the older wizard’s attention when it was obvious that he was oblivious to them, only to get no response. “Dumbledore!” he cried loudly, simultaneously clapping a thick book closed.

The headmaster’s sadistic offspring didn’t even start. After another moment, he looked up and mildly ‘hmm’ed, obviously still distracted and not particularly concerned… either that or he was baiting them.

“Do we have to attend these pointless sessions or are we permitted to better spend our time elsewhere in an effort to finally complete your interminable project?”

Dumbledore’s green eyes glittered with a nastier version of his father’s infamous twinkled, proving that he had, indeed, been toying with them. “I’m afraid so, boys. This is a detention, after all.”

Lupin looked at him, aghast, and Severus was outraged by the unfairness of it all. “But we were only here so that we could finish this bloody list!” Severus protested.

“Language, Snape,” Dumbledore warned, not looking particularly bothered by swearing or incipient rebellion.

“Sir!” Lupin interjected less angrily, though just as impassioned. “How are we ever going to finish it if we can’t get out and do it? You, yourself, said we wouldn’t get what we needed from books and that’s all you have here! We need to talk to people and ask around!”

Dumbledore was unmoved. “Which you can do at other times. Now is a punishment time when you must endure each other’s company in peace.”

“Since when?” Severus objected again. “McGonagall never said any such thing.”

“Professor McGonagall, Mr Snape,” Dumbledore corrected with an odd smile.

“Professor then!” Severus growled, trying to restrain his shortening temper.

“Snape’s right,” Lupin agreed. “The professor only meant that we had to come here to do the list.”

“No,” their tormentor disagreed, “She said you had to join me here until it was finished. Working on the list was more of a suggestion of what you could do to pass the time.”

“But we can’t do that!” Lupin burst out impatiently.

Dumbledore nodded agreeably. “You do seem to have hit a wall.”

Severus and Lupin exchanged identical expressions of frustration. Severus kept his mouth shut, if he said anything now, he would undoubtedly only get himself into worse trouble. Dumbledore was a chip off the old block all right; he was just as maddeningly contrary as his senile father.

Lupin took a deep breath and asked in a very even and reasonable voice, “Then what should we do?”

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. “Assignments? Essays? Class work? Horror of horrors, study? That unexpected plague has put everyone quite behind schedule and you two have to sit your OWLs this year.”

“But-”

Dumbledore’s smile slipped and he regarded them seriously through his glasses. “But nothing. You don’t have to like it, it is a punishment, remember. Now, I would be very grateful if you would allow me to return to my work, I have my own examinations approaching.”

He did? Severus’ curiosity momentarily battled his sense of outrage and lost. He sat back and glared at the elder wizard. It would only be justice if he were to return the inconvenience and aggravation he had been subjected to. He opened his mouth to do just that when the green eyes narrowed.

“I could always stupefy you,” Dumbledore suggested with a sickly sweet smile. You wouldn’t be bored then.”

He wouldn’t be much of anything then. Severus conceded that round with bad grace. He pushed the books around him away and Lupin looked at him sharply.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. For a troublemaker, Lupin was a real teacher’s pet.

“I am going to do exactly what he,” and Severus jerked his chin towards the watchful supervisor, “Said. I am going to study.”

“Oh,” Lupin replied intelligently.

Dumbledore smiled cheerfully and turned back to his reading. Severus pulled blank parchment out and picked up his forgotten quill to begin his latest charms essay. After a few moments vacillation, Lupin did likewise and the next few minutes there was silence… until Lupin’s quill began its unusually loud scratching. Severus glanced at the Gryffindor from the corner of his eye but saw only that the other was bent over his parchment industriously. That he was holding his quill strangely was of no concern to Severus and he turned back to his own work and began to hum.

Five minutes late, a silencing spell hit both of them.

Harry fought against the tide of preteens that composed the first and second year classes as he struggled against being swept in a direction not of his choosing. When the third through to fifth years joined the fray, he surrendered to the inevitable and allowed the crowd to carry him with them. At this time of the day, with those smells in the air, it was simple to guess where he was being propelled. He hadn’t intended to attend dinner in the great hall and would have preferred to grab a quick snack in the kitchens but he could always snatch something from a table and then duck out the teacher’s door.

“Hello, Sir,” someone said from behind him. He twisted his neck to find Remus Lupin being pushed behind him. He hadn’t seen either of ‘his’ delinquents in the last week, something that had no doubt delighted the pair of them. Their little fidget campaign, while it hadn’t driven him to follow through on his threat, had kept him on his toes. Unfortunately, or fortunately from the students point of view, his exams were now close enough that Harry’s stress levels were rising. He probably would have stupefied them if things had continued and so he’d called a time out. More fool them if they didn’t use it to make up their list because, given the chance when his exams were over, he’d go right back to torturing both of them.

“Mr. Lupin,” he replied, over the din of many, many children. “Enjoying your freedom?”

The young Remus smiled with just a hint of a blush. “Yes, actually. Peter,” he gestured to the short, rotund teenaged boy next to him, “Is out now and I’ve been using the time to help him get caught up.”

A flash of old, remembered loathing surfaced in Harry as he looked at the young and timid face and then he put it resolutely away. This was not the Peter that had betrayed his best friends and resurrected a dark lord, just as the Sirius who had been suspended was not the Sirius who had escaped Azkaban and died for his beliefs. That future had been unwritten and the one that loomed over him now was a mystery that did not necessarily include Peter Pettigrew being a traitor.

Peter?” Harry smiled, almost sincerely, “Pettigrew right? How are your studies with Professor McGonagall going?”

“S… s… sir?” Peter stuttered, surprised but by what, being recognised, being addressed or the question itself, Harry didn’t know.

“She’s helping you complete your animagus training, right? Getting sick must have been inconvenient after getting so close.”

“Ummm…”

Remus smiled proudly at his smaller friend. “He’s doing great. The professor thinks he’s coming along really well. The getting sick didn’t help though.”

“I’m sure it didn’t,” Harry replied dryly.

“It… it’s o… okay. T… the professor said since I’m so yo… young, I’m ahead of most o… other animagus t… trainees anyway.”

“Well, she’s right,” Remus agreed. “Most witches and wizards don’t even start learning before they finish school and you’ll actually be one in another year or so. Even if you take your time, you’ll probably be ready by the end of sixth year! Not that you couldn’t get a distinction on your OWLs if you finish before them!”

“If he doesn’t, then he’ll get one for his NEWTs,” Harry reminded them.

“Which will look really good when you’re looking for a job,” Remus practically crowed.

Peter was blushing now and Harry’s smile was now genuine, amused as he was about Remus’ boasting and Peter’s blushing. It looked as though the absence of James and Sirius was going to do more good than harm in Peter’s case, especially if Remus persisted in building his confidence as he was. Harry decided it was something he should encourage. In his future, Peter had been weak, turning to others to protect him, but if he could gain some self-respect and pride? He had been sorted into Gryffindor, after all, maybe he just needed to find himself out of the shadow of everyone else.

More thoughtful, Harry slowed enough that both teens could move to catch up with him. The entrance to the great hall was just in front of them and the congestion slowing the passage through was giving them more time to talk.

“Peter,” Harry started suddenly, “What do you think of your form?” A thought had just occurred to him and he wondered if it actually had any basis in reality. Technically the marauders had been his family but he had actually known very little about them so the suspicion that had just developed could have been totally wrong. His observations were indicating otherwise though.

The chubby student’s face fell, gaining an expression of shame. “I… I’m a r… ra… t.”

“I know,” Harry told him, smiling kindly. Let them think Minerva had told him. “But what do you think of it. His private theory had just been confirmed and he was going to have to think quickly to make a point that he might not get the chance to make again. “I know most animagi don’t become what they thought they would.”

Remus looked at Peter suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to him. Ah, the self-centeredness of youth. Harry did recall the time he had needed a sledgehammer to draw his attention to things that he should have noticed much sooner. He had thankfully outgrown it, albeit with much outside help.

Harry guided the other two teens to the nearest wall to wait out the stampede and looked at Peter seriously. “I bet you’ve been comparing yourself to Potter and Black and thinking you come out worse off.”

Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes and Remus’ face was paling with realisation. “They shouldn’t have teased you, Peter. I’m sorry. I mean you’ve gone to all this trouble for me…” He looked at Harry suddenly and his face went red. “Oh-”

Harry waved it off. His knowledge of Remus’ lycanthropy was another thing he could pass off as a confidence from a professor. “Peter, I would like you to consider something. What are the true natures of the dog, the stag and the rat?”

“Uh… a d… dog is friendly?”

Harry nodded. “To the one he considers his master and those his master approves of… sometimes.” Remus was distracted by this.

“L… loya… l?”

“Easy to amuse,” Remus added, “And almost perpetually childlike.”

Harry nodded again. “Exactly. You must remember, Mr Pettigrew, dogs are not wolves. They are not meant to be their own masters because, to be frank, they haven’t got an ounce of common sense and they need to be taken care of and kept in hand. They get jealous of anyone near their masters that might steal said master’s attention…”

Remus leaned over and murmured to Peter, “Evans”

“They rush into things head first and have no thought to the consequences of their actions. It’s all a game to them and, because they are so much like wolves in form, they can cause a lot of damage without meaning to.” Harry could see them both noticing the similarity between his description and the absent Sirius Black.

“It’s like you’re saying dogs are bad,” Remus pointed out. The unasked question being whether Harry thought Sirius was bad.

“No,” Harry explained, “Just silly. As I said they have no common sense, kept in hand, you can have no greater companion than a dog with its unconditional affection. Now what about a stag?”

“Proud,” Peter said instantly and a little enviously, “Free.”

Remus nodded. “And pride can be a weakness if you have too much of it.”

“Very true. They are show offs and, again, not really known for their brains. The thing to remember about deer is that they’re prey. They might fight if cornered by a hunter but their first instinct is to run. They live day to day, don’t plan for the future. They do well in their own environment but are not adaptable. You might admire a stag but you shouldn’t want to be one.”

“And a rat?” Remus asked, predicting what Harry was leading up to and eager to help.

Harry smiled. “Think about it.”

“Sneaky,” Peter whispered in shame, “Cowardly.”

Harry snorted. “From what I’ve heard of you two and your friends, I’d have thought being sneaky was a necessity.”

Remus blushed and Peter smile briefly.

“And remember,” Harry continued, “Rats are small, not exactly a match for a lot of hunters. Staying and fighting would be stupid of them if they didn’t have to and that’s not to say they wouldn’t fight it they had to. Doomed or not, a cornered rat is nothing to laugh at.”

Peter had brightened slightly at last. “But they’re dirty,” he said, plainly hoping for Harry to tell him otherwise.

Harry did just that, in a manner of speaking. “I’d imagine that’s a matter of personal hygiene in your case… if you must go crawling in dirty places, bathe!”
Remus choked and Peter blushed.

“They’re vermin?”

“Which goes to show how bloody successful they are. There are rats in every country in the world. They are survivors and they are adaptable. Not to mention that saying something is vermin doesn’t say much about that something anyway. I have it on good authority that centaurs consider humans vermin.”

“Oh…”

Harry caught Peter’s eyes. “Mr. Pettigrew, I can’t tell you what to think but, as every creature has its advantages and disadvantages, your animagus form will be as good as you want it to be. And, regardless of what you do make of it, mastering the transformation is something you will be able to be proud of for the rest of your life.”

By then, the mass of students had passed and dinner had begun. Harry restrained a sigh at this for, to a one, every single diner at the teacher’s table would insist he sit down and have a proper meal.

“That’s enough deep thought for me,” Harry announced. “It’s time both of you went and got you dinner. No doubt both of you are starving.”

This time, both Gryffindors blushed and Harry shooed them off. Then he braced himself and followed them into the hall. His Da undoubtedly knew he had been out there so it was too late for a quick escape, damned wards, or else he’d suffer a lecture on taking care of himself later.

Ah well, into the fray.

Albus was most pleased when his Harry slipped into his customary chair beside him. The child had been skipping meals in the hall and only the house elves’ profuse assurance that he was getting food from the kitchens directly had stopped him from putting his foot down.

The plate in front of his son instantly filled with the specially medicated vegetables and chicken that Poppy insisted he still required. Harry ignored it for the moment, trapped into answering the greetings of the staff around him. As soon as he’d finished, Albus looked at his plate pointedly and his child rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t worry, Da. I’m eating, Da. Hell to you too, Da.”

Albus smiled benignly even as he added some more of the excellent carrots to his boy’s plate. “Good evening, my boy. No doubt you’ve had a busy day, so eat!”

Harry sighed and obligingly took a large bite of carrots, the medicated ones, Albus noted in approval. “I’m eating, Da, but what about you? You can’t live on sweets alone and if I have to be good then so do you!”

Albus quickly glanced down the table at his mediwitch to see if she’d heard them or not. He found her staring at him in silent support of his son and he guiltily ate some of his own carrots - undoctored but only as long as his blood sugar stayed within set limits, or so he had been warned. For the next few moments, he concentrated his attention on the truly delicious meal, the house elves, as usual, surpassing expectations.

The fact that he could still feel Poppy’s strict gaze had nothing to do with it, nor was there any correlation between the feeling going away and his turning to talk to his child. Not a jot!
Harry raised one of his dark eyebrows as if he knew exactly what was currently flashing though Albus’ mind and Albus wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. His was truly a remarkable son, indeed.

“So, how fared your day, my boy? Do you feel confident about the beginning of your testing tomorrow?”

Minerva leaned forward on Albus’ other side so as to better hear Harry’s reply.

Harry swallowed a mouthful while nodding. “Yeah. I’ve been preparing for weeks now and I feel as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I have no doubt you’ll pass with flying colours, Harry,” Minerva told him and Albus nodded in complete agreement.

“Most certainly.”

“You’ve done wonders with helping the seventh years make up for the time they’ve lost,” she continued.

Albus concurred, “A marvellous job.”

Minerva glanced at him warningly and Albus meekly ate some potatoes.

“And the antagonism between young Misters Snape and Lupin has died right down.”

Albus restricted himself to just nodding proudly.

“The fact that they still have to work together on that list might have something to do with that,” Harry demurred modestly.

Ah, The List, a truly inspired idea that had been. Albus’ eye twinkled in recollection.

Minerva was startled. “Still? They’ve been working on it for well over a month now!”

“You didn’t know?” Harry leaned around Albus to see Minerva better. “They have maybe three quarters done. Of course, the required number is a tad higher than it started as but I did explain the rules to them.”

“A ‘tad’, my boy?” Albus chuckled, unable to help himself. “It’s almost half again what it began as.” Harry had kept Albus entertained with detailed updates of his protégés’ progress. Albus continued, mightily amused, “It climbed to one hundred and forty-six before your young lads finally plateaued.”

Minerva looked astonished. “The last I had heard, they’d stopped at one hundred and thirty-five and pulled their acts together!”

Harry gave a wicked snicker and quickly took a sip of juice to hide it. When he had recovered, he turned back to Albus and Minerva. “Well, after they realised that the detentions weren’t actually helping them get the list done, they backslid a bit. Quite a bit.”

“Assigned extra examples for fidgeting,” Albus explained to his deputy.

“Malicious fidgeting,” Harry reminded him quickly and Albus corrected himself.

“Malicious fidgeting. Do tell me, my dear Minerva, has my boy regaled you with tales of the Fidget Campaign?”

“Fidget campaign?” she repeated dubiously. “I can’t say that he has.”

Harry rolled his eyes and bit into a piece of chicken while Albus twinkled again. “It seems,” he took great pleasure in saying, “That young masters Snape and Lupin did declare a truce and even allied in order to make war on the mutual foe.”

“Harry?” Minerva’s lips twitched and she could not force them back into their prim conformation. “And what manner of attacks did these aggressors launch?” she enquired, admirably grave.

Harry snorted and answered before Albus could expand, young curmudgeon that he was. “They hummed.”

“Hummed?”

“Hummed,” Harry repeated firmly, “And shuffled and tapped their fingernails against the table and rustled their parchments and scratched with their quills. Remus even had the gall to whistle at one point but a quick petrificus took care of that!”

“Harry!” Minerva scolded instantly, scandalised. “You can’t go about petrifying students!”

“Just his mouth, Minerva,” Albus explained hastily even as Harry muttered.

“Why not?”

Luckily, his esteemed deputy did not hear his roguish child, else there would have been more than a single righteous scold. The students were finding them far too entertaining already, Albus noted as he observed various young gazes fixed in their direction.

“At least I didn’t stupefy him,” Harry told Minerva, stubbornly resisting censure.

“Harris Dumbledore! Teachers do not go hexing their students!”

“Mine did!”

“And I would dearly love to give them a piece of my mind, believe you me!”

“Besides,” Harry continued over her, “I’m not a teacher.”

Yet, Albus corrected mentally, but it still meant Harry had the moral ground here, a reason he’d never interfered after hearing about the daily antics.

“That is no excuse! You should know better, Harry. I expected you to be far more mature!”

Albus watched the confused medley of emotion battling for pride of place on his son’s face. Embarrassment, obstinacy, amusement, they were all there. Perhaps he had better step in before his child unintentionally began a war on a second front.

“Now, now, Minerva. Harry has, despite his unorthodox methods, come far with those boys. He has managed to make this list a point of honour for them. They will complete it, honestly, even if it does mean more detentions and even working together in other places and at other times. Considering the antipathy with which Mr Snape regards young Mr. Lupin, I believe that is something of a coup.”

Minerva sniffed. “and they had not been doing so in their classes before that?”

Ah yes, the two young men had been paired together in nearly ever class during the pox outbreak. “But successfully? I believe not. Was that not why you had them placed with Harry to begin with?”

“You have to admit,” Harry told Minerva, “That, by presenting myself as their common enemy, I am encouraging them to put their differences aside.”

Minerva nodded reluctantly. “True.”

“And,” Harry continued, “There is the added benefit that I did distract Remus from the absence of Black and Potter.”

Albus agreed. Young Remus Lupin had a lot invested in his friends, moreso than the usual shy youth due to his lycanthropy. That all three boys were not only accepting of his circumstances but willing to go so far as to learn to be animagi for his sake would have only consolidated the bond. Now, bereft of two thirds of his, no pun intended, pack of friends, the young man was threatened again with the isolation of his youth. That Mr Pettigrew had been one of those afflicted with the recent plague of dragon pox and thus quarantined for a goodly length of time, would cement young Lupin’s fears and uncertainties. Harry had certainly provided a distraction and a solution to his looming seclusion in the form of an impossible list and a not so hostile Snape.

Of course, helping young Severus work through his anger was nothing to be ignored.

“They’re good kids,” Harry said, “Both of them surprisingly. I did not expect that, although I was trying not to expect anything.”

Knowing what he now did of his child’s past, Albus understood what Harry was referring to. The young wizard needed to disassociate the adults he had known from the children he was now mentoring.

Minerva, of course, knew none of this, having not yet been confided in, though Albus suspected he, Harry or both of them would eventually do so. So she did not know that Harry had, despite himself, expected Remus Lupin to be gentle, wise and mature or that, to him, Severus Snape was a constant malevolence in his life, only to discover first hand that they weren’t. Not yet.

“You were talking with young Lupin before you joined us,” he commented, having sought Harry out through the wards and been intrigued by what they’d told him. Young Peter Pettigrew had been present and yet Harry had talked with them for quite some time. Albus had to wonder why Harry had tarried so.

“And you didn’t try to hex the lad? I’m most impressed,” Minerva sniped tetchily.

Harry ignored her. “We actually got to discussing Peter’s progress in his animagus transformation.”

“Oh?” Albus watched, bemused and amused, as his transfiguration professor straightened, losing the teasing air she had been wearing. “And how does Mr Pettigrew think he’s progressing?” She sounded so stern that if any students within earshot actually heard her, they would have felt no reason to envy Mr Pettigrew for his supposed favour. The children, of course, didn’t know Minerva McGonagall as well as Albus, who had been her own transfiguration professor, did and so saw no hint of the pride she felt in her student.

“He’s not as happy as he should be, considering his achievements,” Harry informed her soberly. Albus felt his white eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the comment.

“Why on earth not?” Minerva demanded, “Surely he can’t still be missing Black and Potter! It has been more than two months!”

“Do not underestimate the strengths of the bonds those four boys had formed, Minerva,” Albus admonished.

“I assure you, I do not,” she replied testily, “And you should not overestimate them either. Remus Lupin may feel their lack for quite some time yet, though I’m pleased to see that his mood is no longer so grey as it was when it happened, but those boys treated Mr Pettigrew more as a pet than as a friend.”

Albus opened his mouth to argue, the friendship the boys had struck up had always impressed him, but Harry was quicker. “That kind of relationship does none of the parties any good,” Harry agreed. “It only reinforced bad behaviours on all sides. Mr Pettigrew becomes little more than a minion, accorded little respect and so his self-respect would diminish. People like that either become a drone that never thinks for themselves or they become willing to do desperate and irrational things to reverse the situation.”

Albus had little doubt which way Harry expected young Pettigrew to go.

“You truly believe that?” Minerva asked.

Harry smiled bitterly, an expression Albus did not like on his precious child one bit. “History has played it out time and time again.”

“Not always,” Minerva insisted. Normally, Albus would have supported her. Such cynicism was sad in one so young but Albus knew, as Minerva did not, that this was not a case they could argue with.

“Let us not argue, dear hearts, it does upset the digestion. Instead, perhaps Harry would return to his original comment about Mr Pettigrew’s lack of enthusiasm for his growing skills.”

Minerva subsided and Harry sighed. “He’s a rat, Da.”

Albus did not understand.

Harry sighed again, this time with a hint of anger. “He’s a rat and his best friends were a ruddy big dog and an impressive looking stag. How do you think he’s taking it? Better yet, how do you think his friends reacted when they found out?”

“I do not believe any jokes made would have been done so with ill intent,” Minerva argued but it was easy to see that she understood.

Albus’ shoulders sagged. He knew full well that, however they might have meant them, such teasing was not necessarily received so easily, no matter how the recipient might outwardly act in response. “Perhaps the boys’ suspension will bring about more good than we previously thought.”

“I hope so,” Harry smiled absently, his eyes distant. “The ripples are certainly spreading, the consequences more far reaching than anticipated and we can only hope that more good than evil comes off the rock landing in this pool.”

“It is an ill wind, indeed, that blows no good,” Minerva murmured. She now stared down at the student they had been discussing and Albus did not doubt she was pondering ways to help Mr Pettigrew and Mr Lupin, both. She assumed that the metaphorical ‘rock’ his Harry had mentioned was the suspension of or even the prank masterminded by her absent Gryffindors. One day Albus and Harry would need to explain to her that the rock was Harry, himself, and that Albus and his adopted child both watched and marked the inevitable changes that the waves of his coming washed up.

“Indeed,” Albus echoed as he met Harry’s gaze and held it. Both knew that much good had been brought about and so far neither of them could seen an evil that had eventuated but that did not mean that none had. They just had not seen it and it was those hidden ripples that Albus dreaded most.

“Perhaps I might tell Mr Pettigrew that my own transfiguration teacher could not even accomplish the initial part of the transformation process that Mr Pettigrew has already completed,” she mused, sipping at her drink.

Albus coughed as Harry looked at her with interest. “I thought Da taught you.”

“He did,” Minerva informed him smugly with a mocking glance at Albus. “Albus has no animagus form, Harry, thus the transformation is ever beyond him.”
He thought she’d gotten past the point where she needed to gloat about this.

“Oh?” Harry looked at her wide-eyed in astonishment. Albus was gratified by the confidence that Harry had in him which made it even more difficult for him to acknowledge this particular shortcoming.

“We can’t all be perfect,” he said mildly.

“Very true,” Minerva conceded gravely which she then spoiled by smirking at him. “Harry, have you ever considered attempting the transformation?”

“Of course,” his son replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I even had a teacher lined up but then things happened and other topics were deemed more important to learn and it sort of fell by the wayside. We just didn’t have the time.”

Albus’ heart fell at the blithe dismissal of what must have been a childhood dream in favour of the realities of war. Linchpin that he had been, no doubt Harry’s former teachers, including Albus, himself, had insisted. Because it meant that his precious boy had survived, it was forgivable, but such dreams should not be forgotten so callously. Without them, life was little more than endless drudgery.

“You have time now,” Albus reminded him. Harry looked at him sceptically and he quickly corrected himself. “After your examinations are over, you’ll have several weeks before you begin your own classes. You will have time then.”

“Not enough,” Harry argued, but he looked hopeful.

Minerva leaned around Albus again. “For the whole process, no,” she concurred, “But to learn if you have a form and what it might be, yes. Your Da is right, Harry, you have the time and I was going to suggest it even before Albus beat me to it. Afterwards,” she leaned back again, having assured herself that Harry understood, “It might be a little more difficult, but you intended to return to Hogwarts over the weekend if you can’t commute so we should be able to arrange a schedule.”

Harry seemed to be stunned to Albus’ amusement. “I’m speechless,” he said at last. “You would really…?”

“Of course, Harry,” Minerva assured him fondly. “It would be my pleasure.”

Harry’s mouth broke into a beatific smile that changed his whole face and caused Minerva to blush in response. “Of course,” he chuckled as he dug into his meal with unprecedented rigour. “I’ll need to learn to apparate in that time, also, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to commute at all.”

Minerva and Albus were both astonished. “You can’t apparate?”

“I only turned eighteen recently,” he reminded them, “And I was forbidden from doing anything too exerting in case I relapsed since then.”

“Albus!” Minerva reproved him, “You haven’t taught him?”

“I hadn’t realised!” he said with great embarrassment. Of course he should have considered it. Even if Harry had been educated for a war, what use was it to teach him to apparate if that war was at Hogwarts. Not to mention how could it be done if he couldn’t risk leaving the grounds.

“How is he going to get to his tests?”

Harry stared at him in sudden alarm. “We were going to apparate?!”

Albus spent the next few moments calming them both down. As soon as he could, he would arrange for a portkey… no, not a portkey. His child had a bad history with those and he should not be stressed before the exams even began. Floo! He’d organise a floo connection!

And then, as soon as it was all over, he’d teach Harry to apparate. If he didn’t, Minerva would kill him!