Harry Potter and the Heart of Regenesis

Chapter Seven

Diagon Alley

After the fireplace conversation with Ginny, Harry had wanted to spend as little time as possible in the cottage and Hermione helped him pack quickly. Without her help he would not have been able to magically enlarge the insides of his suitcases so that virtually everything he owned could be fit inside those two and his trusty old trunk. The trunk had added considerably to the cost of the air ticket as it was rightly considered 'excess baggage' but he was now taking everything he had with him and nothing would have to be sent over later.

The last thing he had to do before he could leave was talk to Sandy. He found her early the next morning soaking up some sun in the cottage's back garden.

"Sandy," he said to her quietly, in Parseltongue, of course.

"Yes, Harry," she replied. "What is it?"

"I have something to ask you - tell you - oh..." This was not going to be easy. In the end he just came out with it: "I'm going back to Hogwarts." He was surprised how hard it was even to tell this news to a snake - not that Sandy was just 'any' snake. Far from it - and he would be glad of her foresight if decided to come back with him.

"Dumbledore wants me to be a teacher - Dark Arts. Do you - do you want to come back with me?"

Sandy thought for quite some time then replied,

"I think I would, Harry Potter. But...I am getting rather old, you know Harry?" she said sounding quite sad. "I don't think I'd like the cold of Scotland again now. I know you'd always do your best to keep me warm but the sun is so lovely here in Pennsylvania - it would be easier for me to stay here. Thank you Harry but...I think I will stay."

They spent quite some time talking after that before Harry left for the airport.

He had to ask Hermione to surreptitiously enlarge the boot of the taxi as well so that it could all fit in. Fortunately, once the cases and trunk had been magically levitated by 'Wingardium leviosa' the taxi driver was able to unload them at the other end without too much difficulty.

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Now he was safely in his room at 'The Leaky Cauldron' (two rooms along from the one he'd stayed in when he'd caught The Knight Bus for the first time near Privet Drive.) It felt strange to be back there after so long. He'd been recognised by several people in the bar and they had been polite and, in some cases - and as was usual - rather too deferential. Everyone knew him both as 'the boy who lived' and also as Voldemort's ultimate conqueror - he was unsure as to whether everyone knew he was no longer magical (he guessed, correctly as it happened, that they didn't) or whether they had assumed him to have simply faded from public view in a sort of semi-retirement (which was pretty much what most people thought).

Tomorrow he would do something he never thought he'd ever do again. Buy new wizard robes. It was seven years since he'd worn them (the last time was at the great celebration event when he had received his OM) and had got used to the thought long ago that with him not being, in the strictest sense, a wizard any more he would no longer need wizarding robes. Yet, here he was, about to return to Hogwarts - as a professor! Harry Potter's life had always been full of surprises.

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It was a fitful sleep - he'd woken several times mostly because he'd slept on the plane already but also because his body clock was wrong and would be for about a week. He got up, showered and breakfasted on bacon, eggs, tomatoes, fried bread, mushrooms, sausage and black pudding. That was something he hadn't eaten in a while. He wondered what the Cresheim Hall girls would make of a plateful of black pudding for breakfast. He thought of all the other things he'd be able to get now back in the UK: Branston Pickle, that was always a favourite, Welsh laverbread - and faggots! He'd only once asked for 'a couple of hot faggots' in an American restaurant and the maniacal laughter he'd received (as well as the extraordinary looks!) had taught him a rather important lesson! The old song which went, "You say potato and I say..." would certainly never be the same again after that experience!

Then he wandered out into Diagon Alley. It had been destroyed in a dreadful attack late in the last war but it had been rebuilt so well that you could hardly tell. A few buildings had different shaped roofs, he noticed, and Gringott's walls did not seem quite as crooked either. Several shops had changed names but the old, familiar ones were as nice to see as ever. There stood 'Ollivanders' which had been making wands for over three millennia; 'Flourish and Blotts' and 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' were there in their respective places too. He looked in the window of the latter, over the heads of the ever-present group of young boys goggling at the latest broom - which was a 'Blazon XL3' he noticed. He supposed Firebolts and Nimbus 3000s were antiques by now. Looking up from the window he noticed an extra storey above 'QQS' and a brass plaque alongside the extra door to the left of the main entrance. It read 'Sherilyn Z. Salt - Potion Maker and Alternate Remedy Therapeutian'. Harry recognised the name of the 'quack' doctor, as she'd been described by Hermione and he wondered two things: one - if she was still trying to persuade the Ministry to try her wares and, two - what the 'Z' could possibly stand for?

Above the shop next to 'QQS' was a more traditional Apothecary, run by one Abanazer Scrotum - although he liked wizard names over muggle ones there were times he was glad he was just plain Harry Potter! Then, above the shop next to that was the clinic he had heard about that was run by Dr Nita Anderssen. She was another of Ginny's sisters, of course - Annie Weasley - who had been abducted with Peggy. Relatives of the Malfoys had brought up Nita and she still corresponded with her Aunt Cissy in New Azkaban. (She did not know, incidentally, anything about the 'party incident' between her aunt and her brother-in-law at the gatecrashed party - which was a very good thing, all things considered!) Harry thought he'd drop in to say hello and pushed the door; a bell sounded above his head and he climbed the rickety stairs to the clinic.

As soon as he opened the door at the top he saw Nita. She threw her arms around him and called out for Sam. Sam Bell was another of Harry's old friends (and the father of one of his ex-girlfriends, Katie) and Harry had spent his summers working with Sam and Aberforth Dumbledore (aka 'Dick') gardening. Sam was especially pleased to see Harry - they had got quite close and Harry had helped Sam to restore his faith in the Wizarding World after years of disillusionment. Nita was a little more reticent with Harry but that was probably something he was going to have to get used to with the Weasleys because of what had happened with Ginny. He also hoped that Ginny would be as open with her family as she'd been with him, admitting that their break-up had been no fault of his. That way he might escape the 'living howler' he half expected from Molly - Ron's paper one had been bad enough to experience in one lifetime!

Nita and Sam were still not married he found out (this being very much to Molly's chagrin) but Sam was completely firm on the matter - he could not and would not marry again after what had happened to his first wife. He had inadvertently killed her with magic and had spent years in (Old) Azkaban because the old wizarding law made no allowance for accidental killing or even killing to protect another (unless with license from the Ministry). Sam now worked for Arthur at the Ministry of Magical Law Enforcement and the first thing the pair had done was ensure all wizards caught in such a situation would be entitled to a fair trial. For the repulsion of a law, which had been in place for at least 500 years, they had expected some opposition but, surprisingly, not a single dissenting voice was heard. Nita's belly did look incriminatingly swollen though and Harry was delighted to hear that yet more twins were 'on the way'.

Harry eventually took his leave, made his way to 'Madam Malkin's' to buy his new teacher's robes (and some dashing new dress robes to go with them) and he returned to 'The Leaky Cauldron' for some lunch. As he walked back past 'Ollivanders' he almost walked straight into another familiar face.

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"Harry Potter, as I live and breathe," drawled the mid-Atlantic tones of Gilderoy Lockhart. "On your way to 'Flourish and Blotts' to buy my new book, I presume? I'll sign it for you if you wish," he continued. "You have got my autograph, haven't you Harry?"

"Er, yes, professor," Harry replied nervously. He had been brought up to show respect to his teachers - and elders in general - so could no more have envisaged calling Gilderoy 'Gilderoy' than he would ever have called imagined calling his old headmaster 'Albus'.

"Professor," laughed Lockhart. "Now, that was a long time ago," he chortled - himself now rather nervous. Harry assumed that, as he had obviously been discharged from 'St Mungos' that they had finally worked out how to reverse the failed memory charm with which he had obliviated his own memory - it had taken a long time. Lockhart's once blonde locks were now rather greyish!

"I've been around the world a few times since then, I can tell you," he lied - as if Harry did not know that he had been no further than the patients' toilets in most of that time! "Did you hear about how I defeated the infamous Blood-Sucking Bladderwort of Transvaal? Fiendish creature that one - nearly had my arm off!"

He hadn't changed at all. His experiences of the last decade had taught him neither humility nor to stop claiming other wizards' works as his own. Harry couldn't help wishing that the infamous Bladderwort he'd never been near could have got his blasted tongue instead!

"Anyway," Lockhart continued. "What has the famous Harry Potter been up to these last few years? Beaten up any more Dark Lords?" Harry felt that, even though Lockhart was, for once, talking about someone other than himself, he was trying to 'mock' him somehow. Harry straightened himself and announced proudly,

"Actually, I've just been brought back from America - at Professor Dumbledore's personal request - to become Defence of the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts." It wasn't like Harry to boast - and to be honest he was yet to be convinced that he would be able to make any better a fist of the Dark Arts position than the hopeless Lockhart had done - but he was not prepared to let the 'smile on legs' get the better of him here, no matter how humble his natural demeanour. "I'm travelling up tomorrow to start work."

"Very good, very good," Lockhart drawled, nodding. "I told Albus over dinner just a couple of weeks ago you'd make a good addition to the staff. Glad he took my advice."

Harry had to get away before he removed some of the teeth from the world's most famous smile. This man was insufferable! He almost felt that were he ever given the choice of spending a week with Lockhart or a fortnight with Aunt Marge he'd choose the latter!

"Excuse me, professor," Harry said abruptly. "I have to get away now - important meeting, you understand," he added already walking away with a wave. "Good luck with the book!" he shouted from the other side of the road.

Actually, there was no book. Although Lockhart had, indeed, at least to a large extent been 'cured' he could not persuade any publishers to let him continue his series of heroic books. The truth was out - the damage to his reputation done and now Gilderoy Lockhart lived in the shadow of his own reputation - still recognised, still occasionally invited to be an after-dinner speaker, always a celebrity and regular winner of the 'most charming smile' awards. His vault at Gringotts was full enough to last him several lifetimes and most people (the ones who didn't actually know him very well) were still prepared to treat him with a certain degree of awe. He spent most of his days wandering up and down Diagon Alley waiting to be recognised. If Harry had known about this he might have felt more pity than loathing - but it's doubtful!

Harry wandered down towards Knockturn Alley - the 'darkest' area in the vicinity - and scoured an old, dusty bookshop for some hard to find books on Dark Magic. Then he looked around and tried to see the shop where he had accidentally 'landed' on his very first floo trip from The Burrow. All the shops looked the same. Harry wondered many times why an area like this was still allowed to exist - the witches who walked from doorway to doorway looked exactly like the witches in muggle children's literature - long, pointy, black hats, flowing baggy robes and warty faces - most even had the crooked noses and matted rat-tail hair. This was the only place he'd ever seen witches look like this - it was as though they'd wandered out of a fancy dress Hallowe'en party.

He noticed some of them look at him with equal suspicion, however and decided to leave the narrow lane before he was actually accosted. However, it was too late. One of the hag-like witches pulled his arm and, leering at him with cracked smile, said,

"Looking for something special, dear? Potion? Poison? Jewellery?" Harry felt rooted to the spot. It suddenly struck him very forcibly that, were he to be identified and targeted by dark wizards still harbouring grudges for his part in Voldemort's downfall he was completely unable to defend himself. Diagon Alley was considered completely safe these days and he had not felt any need to be accompanied to venture there but why on earth had he wandered into Knockturn?

"Erm...no," he stammered in reply. I was just looking around.

"People don't just wander around Knockturn Alley." She looked at him, quite menacingly, he thought. The grip on his arm tightened and a lump seemed to fill his throat making it hard for him to breathe, let alone speak.

"S-sorry," he spluttered. "I must g-get b-back."

The witch shook her head at him and laughed. It was if he was a little boy again, he couldn't help thinking - and he was just as helpless. All around him he could see wizards - residents and shoppers - all walking through the alley either with their wands already drawn or with their hands near the holsters in which they sat in belts around their waists.

"Come with me," the witch told him - another thin, cracked smile on her lips. She was extremely ugly, Harry couldn't help thinking. Did witches like this have husbands? Children? As hard as he tried he couldn't imagine it. They had all been Hogwarts students once - he'd known plenty of those. None of the female students he'd ever encountered in his time at school would he have described as 'ugly'. Lots he might have called 'plain', others had features which had spent a fair proportion of the seven years blighted by spots but he could not imagine any of them turning into a creature like the one which now escorted him through a doorway of broken glass and splintered wood, pointing at a set of stairs with threadbare, greenish carpet and with filthy, ancient lamps on either side.

He had once visited Grimmauld Place, a small street in London where his godfather Sirius had felt 'bizarrely led' to consider buying a property - the particular house, number 12, was in a disgusting state however and, despite Sirius feeling that strange attraction for the place, (as if he'd lived there in another life, he'd said) he had been persuaded by his friends to drop his interest. Well, that house - even at its dirtiest and most neglected had never looked as shabby as this. He felt like he could smell the doxies. The witch stood at the top of the stairs silently pointing at a dark panelled door. As she waved towards it with a bent, arthritic finger it swung open. Harry dared not look inside.

"Please. Go in...Mr Potter." He was startled.

"Shit!" he thought. "She knows who I am!" He wondered what trouble lay ahead - he could even be killed! No-one would know until he failed to turn up at Hogwarts. He could feel the sweat standing out on his forehead; he knew his legs were trembling. He realised it was not even worth the effort of trying to speak. "Why, why WHY?" his mind was screaming at him.

Finally, he raised his eyes to the witch. He could tell by now that she was enjoying watching his suffering, her thin smile had grown and it seemed clear to him that she was having to try extremely hard not to laugh out loud at his discomfort. Tears were starting to well in her bloodshot eyes.

Still the outstretched arm pointed at the door. Harry finally averted his gaze from the hideously distorted face and turned to face the door. Inside, the room looked completely different from how he had expected it to look. Thick red, plush carpet covered a polished dark wood parquet floor. Leather chairs sat invitingly beneath oak-panelled walls and a small, occasional table had teacups and a plate of cakes. As Harry turned back towards the witch he finally heard the long-suppressed scream of laughter that accompanied the witch's transfiguration into a friendlier and more familiar form.

"Katie Bell, you bloody bit-" Harry exclaimed. He wanted to punch her and hug her at the same time, settling finally for a very long hug.

When they released each other at last she again pointed a much more pleasant finger towards him, but still with hints of admonishment.

"Sorry, Harry. I really couldn't resist that." The stern act dropped, though, and she started laughing again. He now found that he could join her in laughing about it but his heart was still beating way too fast. She finally regained her 'stern' persona. "You should not have been in Knockturn Alley - alone or otherwise, Harry. What were you thinking?" Now Harry felt like a schoolboy again - this time a naughty one in the headmaster's office.

"Think I don't know that?" he responded. "Thank God it was you! I thought I was done for!" His relief, coupled with the joy of seeing Katie again after so long had left him experiencing several emotions all at once and he stepped towards her again and shared another long hug.

"I saw dad an hour or so ago for lunch and he said you were in the alley. I decided to 'look out' for you. You still have to be careful," she chided again. "Voldemort wasn't the only dark wizard in the world. You know that," she affirmed. "Anyway, this is our London pad," she said, changing tack. "Make yourself at home! Tea?"

"That'd be lovely," he answered accepting her simultaneous invitation to sit in one of the leather armchairs. He took an enormous cream cake, too, when it was offered.

"That was some trick," he finally admitted. "Great self-transfiguration! What was it, Polyjuice?"

"No. Similar, though. After Fred and George did all the initial work on the 'potion sweets' and gum and things, the Department took over their recipes and developed tiny capsules for us aurors. You should see Moody - he can transform himself into a leggy blonde! Can you imagine Mad-Eye Moody as Marilyn Monroe?"

Harry pulled a very strange face at this news - kind of reflecting the bizarre image that came into his mind as he tried to picture the Moody/Monroe hybrid.

"They set up a new foundation, the FWF, in honour of Fred a couple of years ago, which Percy and his dad opened. It provides training for young witches and wizards who wish to become aurors and provides them with a bursary. It also funds inventors and other types of 'creative mind' in the hope that they will one day find a mind as imaginative and fruitful as Fred's was. Ten percent of all 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' profits go straight into the foundation and that is matched by the Ministry every year and then matched again, usually, by donations and legacies. Rumour has it that Dumbledore has bequeathed a million Galleons in his will to the foundation when his time comes - which, hopefully, won't be for a long, long time yet."

"Hear, hear," agreed Harry. "I knew about the foundation, of course. Ginny came over for the opening but I had no idea how successful it had become. Have you heard of anything else being done in memory of any of the...the others?" Harry asked her.

"There's been lots, Harry. Let me think a moment? There's a lovely memorial garden in Kew - do you remember we went there on a date once?" Harry smiled thinly. He had always been a bit embarrassed about his rather forced relationship with Katie. Actually, he thought, there was quite a lot to be embarrassed about! They had been good friends since he joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his first year at school - she was older than he was and already an established player and she had taken him under her wing somewhat. They had turned to each other for companionship and comfort and it had gone rather further than either really intended. He squirmed when he remembered being caught in a very compromising position in a hotel room by Ginny, Malfoy and the rest.

"Yes, I remember," he answered her after a pause while these thoughts flooded into his head. She had obviously been thinking about pretty much the same things because she suddenly grinned widely and reassured him.

"Don't worry, Harry," she teased. "I didn't bring you up here to jump you!" As she said this, though, she pulled him to her and Harry leant her head into his as if about to 'snog' him! Then she let go and he quickly smoothed his hair down as she laughed loudly. He realised she obviously wasn't as embarrassed by the memories as he was. It was probably just the inherent 'gentleman' in him! Then she continued, as if this little interlude had not taken place. "There is a special section in Kew for the Wizarding World - do you remember?" He nodded. "Professor Sprout was asked to design a special section in that garden to remember all the pupils and others who died in the final battles. And in the middle is a gold statue and a plaque with all their names."

"What's the statue of," asked Harry in genuine ignorance.

"Oh, Harry!" Katie could hardly believe he did not know. "It's a lion, a girl and the moon. It's you, Harry!"

Harry managed to look very humble and extremely proud at the same time. A lump came to his throat and he felt his eyes well up with tears. He was sure Ginny didn't know either. Then Katie added,

"And do you know something? If you look closely - very closely - at the statue you can just see that the lion has wings! Very few people know that!" she winked.

Harry wished he were there right now to see it and made a mental note to visit Kew as soon as he could. "Now, what else," Katie thought out loud. "Oh, yes! Parvati and Padma's father has founded the first Wizarding School for girls in India in their memory - the 'Patil Seminary', there's a Hannah Abbott Rose Garden which you can see best from the Prefect's Room at Hogwarts. And the giants have promised an 'eternal peace' against the human race in memory of Hagrid who, they say, 'did so much to promote good relations between our peoples.' There must be lots more but I can't think for now," she concluded.

Harry was moved and took a few moments, once again, to contemplate.

"I'm glad people haven't just forgotten Fred and the others who paid the ultimate price."

"Surely, weren't you the one who did that in the end?" she asked him.

"No, Katie. Of course not." He shook his head. "I'm still here! I've still got my life! It might not have been as happy these last few months as I'd have liked but I am here: living and breathing and about to embark on a new chapter in life's rich tapestry." The last phrase sounded like he was reading it out of a book.

"Come on, Harry. You can't fool me. You know what you gave up to do what you felt was right."

"Why? Don't you think I was right to try to bring Draco back?" he asked her with the mildest anger in his voice.

"I don't think I could have done it," she admitted. "I think I'd rather die than not be a witch. I saw how miserable it made my dad all those years, how frustrated he felt - not just that he couldn't be in the thick of the action like he used to be when he was an auror - I mean little things like having to use a razor to shave, having to wash the dishes with Fairy Liquid at the sink. That sort of thing, you know?"

"Of course I know, Katie," he admitted softly. "Of course I know."

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry, of course you do. Then you see what I mean?" she pleaded.

"I do - and I must admit that, at the time - in the middle of the spell - I remember thinking to myself 'No, not that - I'd rather die!' But I had to do it. I just had to."

"There are sacrifices and there are sacrifices. Dad paid for his love with prison, your mum paid with her life. You paid with..." She was searching for a word.

"With all I had left," he finished and changed the subject very abruptly. "And all I have left on my plate now are crumbs - so how about offering me another of those cakes?" She did and he took it gladly. You didn't get many fat wizards considering their average intake of calories, he'd often thought.

"Tell me, then," he continued, smiling again. "How is it that everyone I bump into on my first few days back in England is connected in some way or another with the Weasleys? You're married to Percy and I've already spent time with Hermione and your dad and Nita. Plus old Lockhart who was part of the basilisk thing. Everywhere I go there are reminders of Ginny!"

"It comes from her having eight brothers and sisters!" Katie laughed. "Blame Molly being either addicted to babies or allergic to Prophylaxis Potion. Mind you, which ones wouldn't you have wanted born? Do you remember the song they used to play on the radio that had the lines:

"'We had the children, remember? John, Phillip, Susan, Alice, Carol, Teddy, Bobby, Jenny - I think we had one too many - but I hope not out of line.'

"I always think of Molly and Arthur when I hear that."*

She changed the tone of her voice in that very sudden and abrupt way she could:

"You know, Harry. None of us thinks any the worse of you because of what's happened with Ginny. Quite the contrary, in fact. It's Ginny who's going to get Molly's wrath. Ron already showed her the American magazine Hermione brought back. We all know about Jerry 'effing' Malkovich," she said with utter distaste.

"I'm trying to put it all behind me," Harry said. He wondered, even at the time if he meant it. 'How could he ever put Ginny Weasley behind him?' his heart asked with a leap.

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After leaving Katie and Percy's London hangout Harry had only one more place to visit - he could never go to Diagon Alley without doing that. It was 'last stop': 'Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Emporium'. Even though he'd had a good lunch, eaten two superb cream cakes at Katie's and downed two (or was it three?) cups of tea he sat down and ordered scoops of banana, ginger, chocolate pecan, vanilla and 'fig surprise' ice cream with wafers, cherries and lashings of toffee sauce and more fresh cream and chopped nuts piled on top. He ate the lot and almost staggered back to his room in 'The Leaky Cauldron' for a rest. He packed away his new robes tidily in the trunk and took out, once again, the 'Ollivanders' box containing his wand.

The question of whether he'd rather have died came back to him again as he wrapped the 'dead' stick of holly back into its silk and put it away.

"Sacrifice," was all he could say.

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*the song quoted by Katie is Harry Nilsson's 'Down By The Sea' from the album 'Duit on Mon Dei'. Nilsson is one of the most played muggle artists on wizarding radio. His first album 'Pandemonium Shadow Show' is named after a line from Ray Bradbury's novel 'Something Wicked This Way Comes' - itself named from Macbeth and also the title of one of the most popular Hogwarts Choir items.

Incidentally, Nilsson was also the favourite artist of his good friend, the wizard John Lennon and it was from the latter's memorial garden 'Strawberry Field' in New York's Central Park that Professor Sprout took much of her inspiration for the new memorial garden at Kew. Lennon, of course, was yet another wizard who lived and worked mainly in the Muggle World. His attendance at Hogwarts was even hidden from his own family - John's Aunt Mimi was every bit as fiercely anti-magic as the Dursleys - and John had had to attend the muggle Quarry Bank High School every day as well as doing his classes at Hogwarts. He had been the one student before Hermione who had been allowed the use of a time-turner and had permission from Dumbledore (via the Ministry of Magic) to Apparate at the age of eleven - something he did, back and forth from Liverpool to Hogsmeade every day.

Lennon was always known for his long lie-ins, frequent truancy from Quarry Bank and a total lack of completed homework at both schools. History shows him as having been a 'rebel' but the truth is that, honestly, he was always just completely knackered!

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Chapter Eight

Hoggy, Warty Hogwarts

When Harry drew back the curtains next morning he was surprised to see Hedwig sitting patiently on the window ledge. He opened the window and let her in. He had sent her to his godfather, Sirius Black, before leaving America with the news of his forthcoming change of address and job.

Sirius and his wife Alicia had moved to Hogarth Island off Maine with their son Arne (actually he had been adopted by the pair, really being the son of Roger Davies and Fleur Delacour - Roger had briefly been married to Alicia under the orders of Voldemort) and Sirius ran a wizarding fishery. They had given up eating meat most of the time - not for any other reason than they had all learned to love the many varieties of fish that abounded in the seas off Hogarth. Arne's particular favourite was gurnard, which he liked with 'chips'. Sirius and Alicia refused to let him call them 'fries' and their son similarly refused to eat them off plates - it had to be from old copies of the Daily Prophet. Young Arne had managed to inherit his adopted father's stubborn streak! They now went by the surname Lyon and the forenames Newf, Lizzie and James, except in private.

Harry took the letter from the pouch on Hedwig's leg and he apologised to her that he had no 'treat' to hand. She had a tendency to 'sulk' - yes owls can sulk - and she did this now, turning her head from Harry like a spoilt child. He read,

Dear Harry,

Great, great news about your job at Hogwarts! We are so thrilled we are considering changing our plans for Arne. He is booked to start at Bleecker Street in a few years but now Hogwarts is looking like a really attractive alternative. We'll see.

Really sorry about you and Ginny - just remember you've got lots of friends and we're all there when you need support. She'll be the one who regrets it, you wait and see. And...who should know this more than me...there's plenty of fish in the sea!

Hedwig loved it here, by the way. She was fascinated by Buckbeak and Arne persuaded her to race around the island with them. She also had a bit of an identity crisis! After Arne fed her raw fish she spent the rest of her time swooping down into the waves and coming back up with a beak full of sardines or mackerel like a seagull!

We thought we'd better send her back, though, so here she is. I hope she'll get to you while you're still in the 'Cauldron' as I've arranged for you to pick up a gift from us in 'Flourish and Blotts' before you leave for Hogwarts.

Alicia and Arne send lots of love - you must come to stay sometime she says (and I don't argue with her...Ouch! She just punched my arm! Ouch again!)

Better go. Arne's waiting for me to go play cricket with him. It's better not to let him get too impatient - smoke comes out of his ears! It's a veela thing, apparently!

All the best then,

Your godfather,

Sirius

Harry turned to Hedwig.

"Fish?" he asked, shaking his head. But she was still sulking and ignored him loftily.

After he had packed the few things he'd bothered unpacking (washing and shaving stuff, his toothbrush etc.) he pulled his luggage over to the door ready for collection and walked down the stairs, through the bar and out into Diagon Alley once more to pick up his gift from 'Flourish and Blotts'.

He made his way to the 'Customer Information' desk and asked if there was a package there for collection from Sirius Black. The assistant checked a list and replied,

"No books here from anyone called Black. What is your name, sir?" He was about to answer her but then she finally looked up.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in a mixture of joy and surprise. "Remember me?"

He thought there was something familiar about her but people changed so much between early teens and adulthood... He didn't have time to embarrass himself or her because she continued,

"Tamara Katz, I was a Ravenclaw prefect!"

"Oh, hi Tamara," Harry replied with a friendly smile. He could barely remember her at all but he had realised long ago that everyone knew who he was and they also wanted to 'know' him so he had learned how to react in these situations. That he was a bit 'out of practice' didn't seem to be noticed as Tamara grinned, pleased no doubt that Harry Potter knew who she was.

"Yes, there's a parcel here for you, Harry," she told him, her finger running down a checklist. "But it's from a Mr Lyon - not Black. Just wait a few moments please."

She disappeared through a curtained doorway and came back a minute or so later with a very large book wrapped in brown paper and a smaller, more familiar one, which was unwrapped. She handed the books to Harry and asked him to sign for them. He did so and took the books.

The smaller book was 'Ezekiel Winterbottom's Guide to Advanced Duelling Skills' a book he had become acquainted with when he had been captain of the Hogwarts Duelling Club. He waited until back in his room before opening the larger book. He was aware enough to realise that there would most likely be a very good reason for it to have been wrapped in the first place. Once unwrapped he saw that it was a book he knew existed but had only been able to see for himself on the few rare occasions when he had broken into the 'Restricted' section of the Hogwarts Library. It was the most comprehensive guide to Dark Arts ever published, originally written in the 19^th century by one of the earliest aurors - Silas Draycott - and called 'Dark Side of the Earth'. The large book's cover was entirely black with the exception of a small triangular prism, which refracted a single beam of light into a spectrum. Harry smiled; he'd seen the cover far more often than he'd seen the book.

"Thanks, Sirius," he nodded as he opened up the trunk again and slipped the books inside.

*******************

The journey to Scotland by train (1^st Class again) took longer than the transatlantic flight. The food was considerably worse and Harry was glad he'd 'filled up' the day before. He managed to eat half a cheese sandwich he'd paid an enormous price for from the Buffet Car and decided against the coffee as he'd heard someone else complaining about it earlier. (Nothing wrong with British railways coffee if you don't mind paying one pound fifty a slice, the old joke said.) He read both a muggle newspaper and the Daily Prophet (which he hid behind the muggle broadsheet to prevent it being seen by other travellers).

According to the Prophet he read that the Ministry of Magic were 'concerned' by a recent rise in dark magical activity. Aurors had resumed the old 'raids', which had ceased after Voldemort's fall and had even uncovered plots for acts of terror although these, the Ministry stressed firmly, were in their 'very earliest infancy'. A spokesman for Arthur Weasley, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, had issued a statement which attempted to reassure 'all law-abiding witches and wizards' that they had 'nothing to fear' from the raids and that there would be a 'total amnesty' on any 'misused muggle artifacts' as long as they were declared 'immediately to the aurors and their teams who were carrying out the raids'. Harry smiled again to himself. How could Arthur have any other policy when he had once owned a flying Ford Anglia?

The article continued to say that, as well as a 'considerable amount' of dark paraphernalia that had been confiscated the Department had also taken possession of: 'a charmed tea-strainer and potato peeler, three 1930's cash registers (in pounds, shillings and pence) and something called a dildo.' Arthur Weasley was quoted directly as saying that he had 'no idea at all what any of them were for either in the Muggle World or here,' although he did say that the last object might make a decorative ornament and he could think of 'a few good places to stick it.' Harry found himself laughing very loudly at this and other travellers looked around in surprise, no doubt wondering what on earth this young man could suddenly find so funny in The Daily Telegraph!

**************

Finally, the train pulled into its destination and Harry struggled with his luggage onto the platform and searched around for a trolley. He eventually found one next to the toilets piled high with rubbish - sweet packets, newspapers, a cardboard box, three empty cigarette packets and a used 'nappy sack' - a scented plastic bag for the hygienic disposal of the soiled said item. Harry began removing them from the trolley into the completely empty litter bin next to it. Harry noticed the familiar green and white sticker on the bin asking the public to 'Keep Britain Tidy' and as he did a thickly accented Scots voice called out to him,

"Bloody typical! I just finished emptying that and ye're filling it up agairn!"

He turned with the now emptied trolley wondering how the 'cleaner' had managed to empty the bin and not the trolley (or if she had emptied the bin onto the trolley) when the 'cleaner' suddenly yanked it from his grasp.

"Ye'll no be needing that, laddie!" brogued the fake accent of Maggie Dougherty, rather shocking Harry. To his further surprise she pulled him into a big hug and then quickly started pulling him back towards the platform where she did a quick glance around to see if anyone was watching, incanted 'Wingardium Leviosa' towards the luggage which she and Harry then pretended to struggle with out of the station exit.

"There are two little people in the car waiting to meet their famous uncle," she told him as they handed in Harry's used ticket to a bored looking attendant. The car was close by and they soon 'carried' the hovering luggage to it and put it, with ease, in the non-charmed, massive boot.

Maggie opened the passenger side front door and Harry peered in. There, in the back seat of the Volvo Estate, straddled either side by baby car seats sat Severus Snape. His former Potions Master, arch-Nemesis and stepfather-of-sorts tried his best to smile in his direction and uttered,

"Good evening, P-...Harry." He offered Harry a quick handshake, which Harry, of course, accepted immediately.

'Be friendly,' Maggie had ordered her husband all the way to the station. She had insisted on taking Savannah and Stuart for a rare car-ride, which had meant that he had to come too. He hated cars and being instructed to 'behave himself' did nothing to improve his already fragile mood. He had meant to say 'Good evening, Potter' of course but righted himself before the instant glare from his wife reached him.

Maggie was the only Hogwarts professor to own a car. They talked about this on the journey towards Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had, Maggie related, once told her he'd owned an original Model-T Ford, which had been a gift from the inventor himself who knew Dumbledore well. According to the headmaster, she told him, they had even played Quidditch together once - in a special match organised by Abraham Lincoln to mark the abolition of slavery in 1865. Very few people knew about Lincoln's love of Quidditch (or the fact that he and Henry Ford were both wizards) but, she continued, everyone knew what happened the day after the game when Lincoln attended his other love - the theatre.

Harry asked to stop about half way there so he and Snape could swap seats. He wanted to meet his nephew and niece rather more closely now they were both awake. Sat between them he was, firstly, captivated by little Savannah's eyes. They were the light blue colour of cornflowers and seemed to shine out of her face. They also made that wonderful contrast with her golden, auburn hair that he was so, achingly, familiar with. The fact they were driving in the glow of a beautiful salmon sunset only served to enhance her beauty more. Ginny had always loved the sunset, he mused, and he had written one of his few love poems for her on the subject when she was completing her seventh Year apart from him:

'There may be miles between us

But, when I close my eyes,

I remember lovely sunsets

That lit the western skies.

For I know you love the sunset

And, though we're far apart,

'Til the sun of life doth dim its glow

You'll be here in my heart.'

Was Ginny still the 'inhabitant of his heart?' he wondered as he played with Savannah and her teddy bear. He certainly seemed to think of her a lot, although, as he'd just discovered again, it would always be hard not to think of her with Maggies and Savannahs and Nitas, Georges, Percies and the rest around every corner! Then he remembered the scarless face on the magazine cover and the fireplace revelations. He reminded himself that his Ginny was gone. He tried to tell himself it was useless to keep holding her in his heart if she didn't want to be there - and dwelling on it like this was doing him no good at all.

When Savannah started staring out of the car window and humming a little tune to herself, Harry turned the other way and found Stuart waiting for Harry to pay some attention to him. It was beyond reality, he thought to himself. This was Stuart. This was his 'own little brother' from the alternate life. He'd already watched this baby grow up into a little man...and he'd also watched him suffer and die. He hoped and prayed that this lovely child would be granted a better lot.

"Here we are," Maggie announced a short while later. "Hogwarts."

Harry looked but saw nothing he recognised.

"Where are we?" he asked, rather feebly, obviously not recognising the surroundings at all.

"This is the Hogwarts car park, Harry," replied Maggie. "There's an enchanted entrance from the Hogsmeade road, then this whole area is enclosed by trees. Look, through there," she pointed, "You can just see the towers." Harry looked and saw the top of the towers, just as she had said.

Harry was home - and it felt so good.

******************