Part Two

Remus Lupin awoke late, as he usually did after a Change when he had nothing to do and nowhere to go. In yet another strange bedroom, except that this one was stranger than most.

The walls were papered with posters of a Quidditch team he didn't recognize and some which featured Harry Potter, the new Seeker for the National team. There was a huge blown-up photo of a young boy he did recognize as Rhodri Ddu, Alexander Hillswick's best friend at Hogwarts, pointing to a young dragon - a Welsh Green, unless he missed his guess - that was nestled in the fork of a tree. A near-by desk was stacked with books that Lupin identified as being part of the second year curriculum at Hogwarts.

He sat up and found a robe waiting for him. Along with a pair of thick woolen socks and what Muggles called a track suit. He dressed hurriedly in the coolness of the room, appreciative of the thickness of the socks which were soled with leather. He was thankful for the extra protection: he hated cold feet. Bad enough having them in the literal sense when he was suddenly plagued with a case in the figurative sense.

Damn, just what the hell was he doing here? He'd thought that with Voldemort's death and the break-up and arrest of the Death Eaters, life would once again be simple. It was anything but!

And now bad enough that he had stupidly forgotten to plan ahead - his clothes and his wand were back in the Village inn room - but he would have the added disadvantage of facing his `host' wearing the man's own clothing.

Well, these couldn't be the boy's. He had to roll up the sleeves of the top so his hands weren't covered and cuff the bottoms in order not to trip on them. The robe dragged on the floor behind him. Boys grew, but not to this extent, certainly not even in the nearly six months since he'd last seen this particular boy.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and discovered a hallway which thankfully led past the bathroom. He took an extra few minutes to wash his face, pass a finger laden with toothpaste over his teeth and, looking into the mirror, wished yet again that he had his own things with him. He badly needed to shave. He felt much more himself if he were clean-shaven, especially after a Change. The less facial hair possible made him feel all that more human.

He stared into his eyes in the mirror and shook his head. It had been Dumbledore's idea to approach the two in wolf form. It had worked but Lupin wondered if a more forthright manner might not have been more honest. The whole thing smacked a little too much of false pretenses.

Still, he was here and he hoped that all would go well. That the situation was not as Dumbledore had explained it to him, but a mere misunderstanding. He would explain the matter calmly and clearly to Snape - who, being a sensible man, would listen to him - and then he would ask his questions and pass on the messages he had.

The stairs led down to another hallway. Heat and aromas beckoned from one end and Lupin, hesitating, decided the aromas were too attractive. They came from a kitchen that had to be half the first floor of the house.

"Ah, Professor, you're awake."

The speaker was a woman of indeterminate age, though her hair was a pure white that she wore braided and crowned around her head. The whiteness of her hair stood out all the more because of the cherry-red robe she was wearing. She was shorter than he was, fine-boned with bright blue eyes and a familiar smile which indicated she must somehow be related to Alexander. She gave the small cauldron a final stir with a long wooden spoon, then moved away from the large black wood stove that filled the far end of the room and came to greet him with a pleasure that Lupin found both calming and puzzling.

"I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, Madam."

She took one of his hands in both of hers and nodded her head. "Indeed I do. I'm Freya Hillswick. Alexander's grandmother was my first cousin. And you are Professor Remus Lupin, who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts last year at Hogwarts." Her voice grew more serious and her grip tighter. "And who put his life on the line to save Alexander when he was kidnapped. See, I know all about you."

Lupin began feeling even more uncomfortable. "Dear me, I hope not. There are some things I would prefer not be public knowledge." But he said it softly, with a reluctant smile.

Freya Hillswick seemed to understand: her tone lightened. "Yes, werewolves do tend to be secretive. Don't we? Now then, coffee. Or would you prefer tea? And will bread and butter do to hold you until lunch which is just minutes away?"

"Coffee? Oh, yes, coffee. Please."

Freya's smile grew wide from Lupin's sincere pleasure at the offer. With a wave of her wand, a stein-sized mug of coffee appeared on the large table that dominated the room. Another wave and a plate of still warm bread with melting butter appeared next to the mug. "There. Now I promise that lunch is on the way. If you're like Alexander, you must be starving."

Lupin's stomach answered before he had the chance: it growled loudly. Freya laughed and another thick slice of buttered bread sat atop the first. "There. No more than fifteen minutes, I promise."

The bread and butter were freshly made and the coffee was nectar: delicious, rich and strong enough to finish waking him up.

When he popped the last crust into his mouth, Freya indicated, with her hand, the front of the house. "If you would be so kind as to inform them that lunch is in a few minutes..."

And so, coffee in hand, Lupin did as she asked.

At the front of the house, to one side, was a large darkened room, with the appearance of a parlour that was used only for special occasions. To the other side was the room in which he had spent a part of the night, listening to Severus Snape read the latest `William, the Terror of Mistleguard School of Wizards and Witches' book to his son in werewolf form.

There was a brightly burning fire in the large fireplace, sunlight pouring in from the tall but narrow windows which slotted the outer walls between bookshelves. To one side of the room, next to a table laden with books, Snape stood beside Alexander, going over some calculation that Lupin decided probably had something to do with Astronomy.

He stood there, watching them.

Yes, the boy had grown some, though he was still shorter than his friends at school, who had also grown these past months. His face was longer, beginning to show hints of what the man would look like. He was concentrating on his work, his face serious. Lupin wondered if it were a slight of the light or just proximity, but the boy seemed to resemble his father far more than he had last year.

Snape was...well, he was Snape. Lupin wondered if this time away from Hogwarts had made him realize just how much he belonged there and not near a small village in some isolated part of the northern isles where he was the only non-werewolf.

Snape straightened. "Yes, I do believe that you're correct now, Alexander. Do remember that you have to factor in the rate of the earth's rotation."

Lupin found himself smiling. Snape's tone was as it always had been when he'd taught: that slightly sarcastic tinge ready to cut someone down. Still, Alexander didn't seem to be bothered by it at all. He just nodded and made a note on a scroll.

Lupin took another sip of coffee, attracting Snape's attention. "Ah, Lupin."

Just that, nothing more. As if Snape had just entered the staff room at Hogwarts and found him there.

Alexander looked up and grinned. "Professor Lupin! I was wondering if you were going to get up at all today." The tease was slight, but there. One werewolf passing comment on another's behaviour.

Lupin nodded to Snape then took a step into the warmth of the room. With a smile to show that he'd taken the comment as it had been meant, "I'm getting old. It takes me longer to recover. Cub." Then he added. "Madam Hillswick wants me to inform you that lunch is just about ready."

"Great, I'm starving." Alexander began rolling up his scrolls and closing his books.

Snape didn't comment on that, but he did scowl a little. "Considering the amount of food you inhaled this morning, I find it uncanny that you are yet again...`starving'."

Again spoken in Snape's usual edged tones, and again the child only smiled at his father.

"One would think that we never feed you, Alexander. And what would the professor think of our treatment of you?"

Alexander made a sound that resembled a giggle. "He wouldn't. I bet he's starving, too."

Lupin sat on the couch, watching the interplay between man and boy. He tried to remember if anyone had ever before dared tease Severus Snape in his hearing. Snape turned to him and asked, voice almost challenging, "And are you? Starving, that is."

Lupin shook his head. "Not any more. Madam Hillswick was kind enough to offer me some bread and butter. To hold me," he added, sharing a grin with Alexander, "until lunch."

Alexander came to sit on the arm of the couch. "It's nice to see you again, Professor Lupin. Rhodri wrote to me and told me that you didn't go back to Hogwarts. He says that they miss you, that the new Defence prof doesn't believe in practical applications in the lower years and has them all writing essays. Rhodri says that he had to produce three whole feet on pixies." Alexander sounded quite aggrieved on his friend's behalf.

"Oh, dear," agreed Lupin. He felt a momentary pang of loss for what could have been and then let it go. Dumbledore had indicated that his place on staff would not be guaranteed when he'd left. But there had been things he'd needed to do that had precluded remaining at Hogwarts. "Yes, I suppose, after last year, that might seem a little dull. So how are your studies coming along?"

"Passable," drawled Snape, quirking an eyebrow at the boy in what had to be a private joke as the boy only grinned back, sliding to sit on the seat of the couch as Snape made himself comfortable in his favourite chair.

Funny, thought Lupin, how much at his ease Snape looked here, surrounded by the things that he'd last seen in Snape's private quarters. He would have thought that the silence alone would have driven him back to Hogwarts. He knew for himself the desolation and isolation of the place, having spent the day of the Change exploring the area. In spite of the fact that it was home to over a Clan of almost two hundred, the place would have driven him batty after a couple of months. He needed to be with people. With nonwerewolves.

"We're actually quite optimistic that Alexander will not embarrass us in comparison with his colleagues when he returns to Hogwarts."

Alexander laughed. "Papa knows that we're already a good two weeks ahead of Rhodri and the others. And it's only November. Rhodri sends me letters with his assignments and other news. So I know that for a fact."

"I know for a fact that you have ink on your hands. You know what Freya's rules are about that. And," Snape added as the boy rose to go wash his hands, "for some reason, there's a small blot of ink near your ear. You might like to deal with that as well."

With a grin, the boy was gone, charging up the stairs towards the bathroom.

Snape winced slightly.

"His energy levels are back far more quickly than mine are these days," Lupin sympathized.

"Is it truly age or are you unwell?"

The concern, slight though it was, startled Lupin. Snape had never before bothered to inquire as to his health after a Change. "No, I'm well, and it truly is age. And the fact that he was born to it and I wasn't." Lupin paused and looked Snape over, making sure the man knew he was doing so. "You look far better than I can remember." He hesitated then forged on, needing to know what he was up against. His mission here suddenly didn't seem so easy. "Life up here seems to suit you."

Snape cocked his head to one side as though considering. "Yes, there are a great many things which suit me these days. But I think the fact that I no longer lead a double life is mainly responsible." He took the time to look Lupin over, in the same manner. "You, on the other hand, look tired. Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

"Master."

The two men looked to the doorway and the strangely dressed house elf standing there. Lupin was used to seeing them wearing tea towels and pillow cases: this one was wearing a woolen tent-like article with another of those pairs of soled socks on its feet. He couldn't tell if it was male or female.

"Luncheon, Master."

"Thank you, Ketil." Snape stood. "You can answer that question later, Lupin..." the sound of Alexander charging down the stairs made Snape grimace, "...when the starving cub...and the wolf have been fed."

Freya smiled at the two who were more than happy to accept third helpings. Severus had long finished his meal and was sitting back, holding and playing with his glass of wine, watching his son and visitor deal with more food than he himself ate in a day.

The professor worried her a little. He was far too thin for a werewolf. She wondered if it was because he was made, not born a werewolf. When she thought about it, she realized he was the first made-wolf that she'd ever met in person. Still, his appetite seemed good enough. From some of the things Alexander had let drop whenever he'd talked about the man, she wondered if he'd often had the chance to appease his post-Change hunger.

"Severus, dear."

She noted that the professor stopped eating long enough to show some astonishment at what had to be the way she had addressed Alexander's father.

In response, Severus merely changed his focus from Alexander to her.

"Have you prepared a list for the things you wanted me to pick up for you in the Village this afternoon?"

He slipped his free hand into his robe pocket and pulled out a square of parchment. "I've noted that, for some unknown reason, my supply of Fizzle Powder seems to have diminished far sooner than I had foreseen."

Freya thought that Alexander was suddenly very interested in that last potato on his plate. She smiled. Alexander's most recent letter to Rhodri had contained a small packet.

It had taken her a few weeks to get used to Severus's tones of voice. To understand that though she heard the acerbity and severity, Alexander heard the love. She, too, had learnt to listen to the undertones of his voice.

A bell rang from the back entry and Alexander looked relieved. With her permission, he quickly left the table.

"Saved by the mail," she smiled at Severus.

"If Rhodri uses it with the right combination of ingredients and blows up some classroom, a bell will not save either of them."

"And if Rhodri does," Freya stood up, "it will be because some Potions Master thought it appropriate to teach his son, one fine summer day, how to use it with the right combination of ingredients. Will it not?" She dropped a kiss onto Severus's head and enjoyed the slight tinge of pink that he couldn't help whenever she teased and showed her affection for him.

The professor wisely turned his laughter into a not very successful cough. Severus was still a little new to teasing.

Alexander came back grinning at something he was reading in Rhodri's letter to him. "Slytherin beat Gryffindor. 240 to 30. And Madam Hooch is allowing Rhodri to try out for substitute Beater." He shoved his letter into a pocket and handed several to his father, one to her and then took the last over to the stove, raised a lid and dropped it into the fire.

Severus paid no attention to Alexander's behaviour though the professor couldn't hide his surprise. Freya smiled. He had probably had time to recognize the handwriting. She doubted that he would have consigned a letter from Hogwarts' Headmaster to the fire without even opening and reading it.

"Freya, Professor Thorvald has sent a special delivery parcel. Would you be so kind as to sign it out for me at the Apothecary?"

Freya snapped her fingers and a quill appeared. She added that to her list.

"And perhaps Alexander should accompany you."

Alexander looked surprised then pleased. "Really? I thought we were doing History this afternoon?"

Severus raised that eyebrow of his and glared at the boy. "Do try and contain your disappointment. The Goblin War of 1276 will still be waiting for you when you return. No, if Freya has no objections, she may need some extra hands. Professor Lupin's things should be picked up from the Inn."

So, Severus had decided to invite the professor to stay with them. They had discussed the possibility at breakfast while both wolves were still sleeping. Freya found it interesting that Severus still felt any decision that needed to be made about Alexander or the house, or even an activity, should be discussed with her first.

Lupin shook his head. "Not all my things. Though I would like my clothing from the chair by the bed and my boots. Oh, and my wand, which you'll find in one of my boots."

"Please, Professor," she smiled at the man, "there is no reason for you to remain at the Inn. We have room for visitors and we would truly enjoy having you stay with us during your visit."

Lupin shook his head again, looking a little embarrassed. "Thank you, but I wasn't planning a visit. I just need a few minutes with Snape for some private conversation and then I shall be on my way."

Freya waited to see how the man scowling in his chair would handle this.

"Lupin, is there somewhere that you require to be any time soon?" Not allowing the man any time to answer, he continued, "No, I thought not. And, unfortunately, whatever it is you have to say to me will have to wait." He stood up, folding his robe about him in a manner that Freya had come to realize was his way of signalling that a discussion was at an end. "I have a potion in my lab that requires my attention this afternoon. I'm certain that you can find something to read in the library that will occupy your time. No, Alexander, I will not give you an advance on your allowance. I'm certain that you have sufficient in your pockets to purchase enough chocolate and sweets to make yourself ill. However, Freya will see to it that you limit yourself to no more than five sickles, for all of your expenditures."

And with that, Severus left for his laboratory.

Freya smiled at the professor. "Please. Do stay. It truly is no inconvenience. And I'm certain that both Alexander and Severus will enjoy your being here."

Alexander added his knut's worth. "Yes, please, Professor Lupin. You could help me with the Defence assignment that papa's given me."

"And," smiled Lupin, "maybe some help with the Goblin War?"

Alexander's grin was not at all penitent.

Funny how a person's books revealed so much. Though Lupin had spent time in Snape's quarters, especially after he'd been hurt, he hadn't taken the time to examine his bookshelves.

As expected, he found an entire wall dedicated to tomes on potions and, surprisingly, quite a few in foreign languages. But there was also a variety of other topics covered on Snape's shelves, more than sufficient for any home-teaching program that paralleled the one at Hogwarts. And the books weren't new. What were new were the books on lycanthropy, two shelves' worth. Again not all that surprising, considering Snape's new-found interest in the subject. And being the person that he was, Snape would want to become knowledgeable on the matter. Lupin suspected that Snape was now as well read on the topic as he was.

There were histories as well, biographies of wizards and witches who had made their mark in the world. And, apart from a couple of shelves that were decidedly Alexander's - the William books were a give-away - there was no fiction to be found.

Lupin settled on the couch with an old friend, La Transmogrification by Simon de Monfort, dit Loup-garou. Though the original dated from the mid 1200s, this was a more recent edition: 1648.

He was rereading a poem that Monfort maintained he had composed as a werewolf when Snape joined him.

"Potion done?"

Snape nodded as he drew his robe about him and sat down. "We have some time before the others join us. Freya is visiting some friends for a gossip and time usually gets away from her when she does."

Lupin put the book down on the small table by the couch. "Alexander won't get bored?"

"Alexander," drawled Snape, "will be delighted to sit and read, anything to avoid the Goblin War of 1276." Snape tucked his hands into his sleeves. "Lupin. Why are you here? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

Lupin grinned. Blunt and to the point. Snape hadn't changed that much.

"I'm not at Hogwarts because there were things that needed to be done. Now that He-Who..."

"Voldemort. He's dead, Lupin. He can be named."

Lupin sighed. "Yes, you're right. Old habits. Now that Voldemort is dead, there were people who needed to be cleared of wrong doing."

"People? Ah, you mean Black."

Lupin hesitated. Snape's feelings about the animagus were very evident. Animosities, like old habits, died hard. But Black was important to him, more so than he'd realized.

"Snape," his tone was a little more blunt than he would have liked, "Black is not guilty of the charges that sent him to Azkaban. Much as the Aurors dislike having their mistakes pointed out to them, they had to be shown that, in this case, mistakes had been made."

"And they took your word for that?"

"No. Not just mine. Several of us petitioned for a reassessment of the facts."

"Us?"

"Yes. Myself with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Albus Dumbledore. And it didn't hurt that among the bodies found at the Circle of Stones was that of Peter Pettigrew. And Sirius even offered to take Veritaserum in their presence and be questioned. That seemed to convince them to listen to us. Much as they disliked it, they finally admitted that things were not as they had once seemed. They wouldn't admit to an error but they were willing to offer Sirius a pardon. Which he accepted, after Harry persuaded him that was the best deal anyone was going to get from the Aurors."

"And where is Black now?"

Lupin hesitated. "With Harry." Well, it wasn't truly a lie. Harry was visiting his godfather, who was at Hogwarts.

"I'm surprised that with Potter on his side, the Aurors proved to be so difficult."

"The Aurors are making very certain that this time no one gets past them. They want to eradicate any possibility of another Dark Lord revival."

"Of course."

Lupin winced at the sarcasm. This was not going to be easy. He wondered why he had thought it would be. "My turn to ask a question."

"I wasn't aware that we were playing a question game, but certainly, ask away."

"Why did you leave Hogwarts the way you did?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand the question, Lupin. What do you mean `the way I did'?"

Lupin caught himself from rolling his eyes. "I mean, why didn't you stay? I understand your wanting to keep Alexander safe, but your House needed you. And Alexander was perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

Snape's laughter was not humourous. "My House needed me? Really, Lupin, do you think I would have been allowed anywhere near my House? `Guilty until proven innocent.' That's what Dumbledore said, wasn't it?"

Lupin winced. Oh, dear, he had been hoping that Snape hadn't known about that.

Snape's sarcasm was back in full swing. "What? You think that wasn't reported to me? It was one of the first things I was told while I was having my hands treated."

Poppy, thought Lupin.

"No, Lupin. The last place anyone, be they Aurors or parents or Dumbledore, would have allowed me to go was anywhere near Slytherin. And that I had from Dumbledore himself."

Lupin didn't doubt him though Dumbledore did seem to have forgotten to mention that to him.

"Ah, yes, our hallowed Headmaster did take time out from his supervision of the purge of Slytherin House to visit me. And to make it very clear that I was not to involve myself in any manner with my House until all had been cleared."

Lupin braced himself. Snape had given him an opening and he was going to take it. "All. That included you and Alexander."

"I see." Snape grew very still, his tone became contemplative. "You're here...because...you've been asked to come here."

Lupin forced himself not to wriggle under the coldly angry glare of the man staring at him. "Snape. I saw what Alexander did with the letter you received from Dumbledore this morning. Can I assume that all letters from him have suffered the same fate?"

Snape shook his head slightly. "No, you cannot. I opened some of the first. I assumed that the others dealt with the same topic. I thought the lack of further response on my part would make it plain to the Headmaster that I have no intention of returning to Hogwarts, and that he should indeed find himself another instructor for Potions."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. Not exactly the information that Dumbledore had told him the letters contained. "Snape. If you had read the letters, the later ones, you would know that there is no way that Alexander will be permitted to return to Hogwarts until he has been cleared by the Aurors."

Snape was silent for a long minute. "I see. Not because he could have had anything to do with Voldemort, but because of me. Unless, of course, the Aurors have decided that his kidnapping by Malfoy, his submission to the Cruciatus, the threat of his being killed were all a ploy to cover up his involvement."

Lupin winced at the cold dryness of Snape's tone. Damn it, he should have known this was how Snape would react. The man was so bloody paranoid. "No, but..."

"But, of course, you were all so busy testifying on Black's behalf that you couldn't be bothered to do so for my son. What would it have taken? A letter describing what you'd seen and heard? Unless, you yourself think that Alexander was part of Voldemort's plan."

Lupin was more than uncomfortable with the fact that it had been decided that Alexander needed to be cleared before he would be allowed back. A technicality, Dumbledore had assured him, but one that seemed to have acquired far more importance as time had gone by and there'd been no answer from Snape. At least that's what Dumbledore had told him before Lupin had agreed to seek Snape out.

And, damn him! Snape was right about his own lack of support for the boy - he'd been too involved with clearing Sirius Black to think of it. He felt guilty and it made him respond badly to the accusation.

"Bloody hell, Snape! Of course not! But, damn it, your behaviour has cast doubt on the whole situation. Now they insist on the need to question Alexander properly. Why the hell couldn't you have remained in your quarters and waited until they had questioned you?"

"Because, Lupin," Snape's voice dripped disdain, "I was once a Death Eater. And though I was not incarcerated in Azkaban, many thought - and still do think - that I should have been. That I was not truly spying for the `right' side, as Dumbledore maintained, though I'm certain, should he wish to, Dumbledore could make it very clear that I was. Because no matter what I say, under `questioning', even under Veritaserum, I shall not be believed."

Lupin resisted the urge to wriggle, uncomfortable from more than Snape's tone. There was far too much truth in what he was saying, including the part about Dumbledore's lack of support.

"The reason I left Hogwarts was that my usefulness was at an end. I was not permitted to speak for any of my students, and frankly, at the time, I was more concerned for my son and his reaction to an experience that even you noted, as I recall, would have challenged a grown man."

Lupin winced. Damn it, it wasn't as though he'd abandoned Alexander: he was here because of the boy.

Snape slowly rose to his feet. "As for Dumbledore and his letters, had he truly wanted that particular message to get to me, there were other ways of sending it. Through other people. People for whom I have some measure of trust."

His look made it clear to Lupin that he was not one of these.

"For your information, the last letter I opened also insisted that I submit to Interrogation in order to prove my loyalty. My reward for that would be my old position of Potions Master."

Oh, bloody hell, thought Lupin, another thing Dumbledore hadn't mentioned to him.

"And I did respond to that letter, indicating that since I had no interest in the position, there was no need for me to submit to having myself `Interrogated' - which we both know is another word for the torture that I would have to submit myself to in order for the Aurors to admit that they might have been mistaken about me.

"And now you tell me the threat of Interrogation has been passed onto my son. I certainly have no intention of allowing my son to endure any kind of Interrogation that would reflect the Aurors' feelings about myself."

Lupin rose to his feet, angry with himself, with Dumbledore and with Snape. With the whole bloody situation. "No one even mentioned Interrogation in relation to Alexander!"

"To you. What the hell do you think their insistence `on the need to question Alexander properly' means, Lupin? Are you truly that blind?"

Lupin knew he was yelling but he couldn't stop himself. "For crying out loud...do you honestly believe that any of us would allow Alexander..."

"To be tortured? Yes, I do." Snape's tone cut like a knife. "Tell me , Lupin, which do you think would carry more weight with the Aurors: the fact that Alexander is innocent in spite of being my son or Dumbledore's silence on the situation?"

"Bloody hell, Snape..."

"None of you have come out in support of me, have you, Lupin? So why should I expect anyone to do so for my son?"

"It's not like that..."

"Really? So if I went to the Aurors and asked to see the testimony that those in the know have supplied them with in support of myself...or even Alexander... No, there wouldn't be any, would there, Lupin?"

Lupin could feel his frustration beginning to get out of hand. He'd agreed to act as Dumbledore's messenger boy, in hopes of getting the Hogwarts Potions instructor back where he belonged. Not have to walk a tightrope of accusations. So he hadn't thought of the boy back then! Big bloody deal! He'd had other priorities.

"On the other hand, I'm certain that if I asked for the testimony in regards to Sirius Black, there would be scrolls' worth. Tell me, have the two of you gone back to being lovers again?"

Lupin felt the werewolf in him rise. "None of your bloody business, Snape."

Suddenly, Snape was back to what he'd been when Lupin had first been engaged to teach at Hogwarts. His voice dripped disdain. "You have, haven't you? Tell me, Lupin, does your doggy lover know you're here?" Then he stopped a moment before adding, "What has Dumbledore promised you if you manage to persuade me to turn myself over to the tender mercies of the Aurors?"

Only jobs for both of us at Hogwarts and a future, thought Lupin before he snarled, "All you need to know is that Alexander Hillswick will not be permitted to return to Hogwarts until he has been cleared by the Aurors." He allowed himself to feel vindicated: after all, he wasn't the one responsible for this mess. "Perhaps if you hadn't been so concerned with yourself and what you see as our lack of support, he would not have to undergo what you think will be torture at the hands of people who care for the safety and security of our world."

"How righteous of you, Lupin," Snape sneered. "Tell me, have you been submitted to Interrogation? I mean, you were with me...with us...at the Circle of Stones. Has anyone questioned your loyalty? Is that why you aren't at Hogwarts? Because you failed Interrogation?"

Lupin didn't prevent the growl that slipped out of his throat.

Snape ignored it. "No, I thought not. Once more Gryffindors sail smoothly and Slytherins have to prove their... What shall we call it? Their worth? Their right to existence?"

"Severus?" In the doorway of the library, Freya rested her hands on Alexander's shoulders.

Lupin noticed that Snape's eyes never moved off him. Face white, expression as forbidding as it had ever been at Hogwarts, Snape merely said, "It would seem that the professor was correct after all. There is no need for him to stay. He only requires his clothes and the time to change into them. Then he will be leaving."

Snape moved then, purposefully around Lupin, and left the room, going out towards the kitchen.

Lupin plowed his hands through his hair. "Damn it!" He turned, "Alexander, Madam Hillswick, I need you to understand the seriousness of the matter."

Alexander was glaring at him, the wolf in his eyes. Without a word, the boy pulled away from the woman and went charging up the stairs. They both stood silently until his door slammed shut.

"Madam Hillswick..."

She was staring at him coldly. "You'll find your bag on the kitchen table. Ketil will see you out."

"Please. If Alexander is to have any kind of future in our society, he needs..."

"Alexander does not need your kind of society, Professor. Ketil will show you out." And she went after Alexander.

Ketil moved into the doorway, expression disapproving. "Sir may change in the kitchen."

Lupin exhaled loudly. Damn it, why were things associated with Snape always so bloody difficult?

Freya waited until Alexander had calmed down to leave him. She settled him with his assignment on the Goblin War before going to find his father.

Ketil met her in the hallway. "Sir is gone. I stays with Master Alexander."

"Thank you, Ketil. I shall be in the laboratory should you need me."

She opened the door to Snape's laboratory as silently as possible. The room was not filled with shattered glass as she had expected it to be. No, of course not, she chastised herself, not his way of dealing with frustration: he kept things bottled up.

She did expect to see him working away on a potion but found him at a worktable in an unlit corner of the room. He was sitting on a stool, eyes staring into the darkness. The closer she approached, the greater was the sense of pain that she was picking up. Her empathic skills were what made her such a good physician, but she found it especially difficult to sense pain in the ones she loved.

She waited by his side until he finally moved his head enough for her to understand that he knew she was there.

"It seems," his voice was raw with restrained emotions, "that besides fucking up my own life, I have fucked up my son's as well."

She winced at the language and at the self-disgust she heard. Freya carefully placed a hand on Snape's shoulder and, when it was allowed to remain there, she gave a little squeeze. "That's only part of it, isn't it?"

He turned to face her, eyes black with pain. His snort of what was supposed to be laughter was self-deprecating. "I...I thought that maybe he had come...for me."

She moved her hand to his cheek and caressed the lines of pain. "Severus..."

"Yes, I know. What an idiot! As if someone would actually..."

She said nothing, only stepped up and, putting her arms around him, drew him close to her.

She thought he would resist - he nearly pulled away. Then, with a sound that tore through her, he lay his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around her, accepting her comfort. He made only that one sound: she wished there had been more, so that he could rid himself of his pain. When he spoke, she could barely make out the words. "Why do I destroy everything I touch?"

Freya Hillswick rested her cheek against Snape's hair and held him as tightly as she could.

There were no more letters from Dumbledore. For several weeks there were also no letters from Rhodri until one arrived, via Rhodri's grandparents with whom he lived.

Snape handed Alexander his letter, who took it up to his room to read, then he opened the one addressed to him.

`Professor Snape,

I doubt that you'll remember me. We met passing in the hallway at Hogwarts when my wife and I went to see what the school was like Parents' Day, before Rhodri started first year.

I've never met Alexander though Rhodri's letters home first year were full of him. As Head of his House, you might remember that Rhodri isn't one much for talking or making friends, until he and your Alexander did the Dark Arts Challenge, and then they became friends.

Now then, I trust in my grandson's good sense: the fact that he likes Alexander is all the proof I need to know that the boy is not a potential Death Eater, if you'll excuse the liberty.

You may have noticed that Rhodri hasn't written Alexander lately. Rhodri was recently summoned to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore questioned him as to his correspondence with your son and then told my boy that it would be, and I quote the old goat, "impolitic at the moment for it to be known that Rhodri was corresponding with Alexander".

The boy had to go look up "impolitic" in a dictionary. He didn't mention it to us immediately but finally, his concern for Alexander made him confide in us.

Rhiannon and I were livid. I wrote to the Headmaster, informing him that we do not appreciate the threat - subtle though it is - being made against our grandson. According to the Headmaster, he has only Rhodri's security and future at heart.

I am writing to tell you that Rhodri will continue corresponding with Alexander, but until this stupidity is over, it will unfortunately have to be through us.

Rhodri has confessed that he taught Alexander Dragon Code, so we have insisted that all his letters be encoded. And he is also spell-sealing them with a Dragon word so that only a Ddu can open them without an explosion. I've been very clear on that point with the Headmaster, that he's doing so on our orders.

Of course, the Headmaster was not pleased, but I did remind him that Rhodri had been cleared by Veritaserum last spring or did he doubt the work of his own Aurors?

We will be pleased to forward Rhodri's letters to Alexander and vice versa. We decided on this course of action because we don't believe Dumbledore would have been so stupid as to put someone in charge of Slytherin who was not trustworthy, no matter what's now being said. Besides, Rhodri quite liked you as a teacher and a Head, and that's good enough for us.

And if there is any way we can be of help, don't hesitate to contact us.

Sincerely,

Evan Ddu
Head
Snowdonia Dragon Reserve
Wales'

Alexander was very quiet after reading Rhodri's letter to him and wouldn't talk about it. He shut himself in his bedroom all that day and when he came out, he went to find Snape in the laboratory, informing him that he had changed his mind, that maybe the school in Lillehammer would be a better choice.

After he left, for the first time in his life, Snape destroyed the contents of an entire worktable.

Freya received a letter from Poppy Pomfrey that pulsed with frustration.

`Freya:

I cannot believe what is going on!

Remus Lupin, it seems, has had an incredible scene with Albus, about his not having been entirely truthful about a "mission" the Headmaster sent him on.

Sirius Black is not pleased that Remus went to visit Severus without telling him about it. It seems old jealousies run deep! It is not totally with surprise that I now understand why Sirius once behaved as he did.

As for Albus, well!

You know what I thought about allowing Aurors anywhere near Slytherin House. And now this thing about Alexander having to undergo the same questioning as have the other members of his House! Albus maintains it's so that no charges of favouritism can be laid at his door.

You know that Fudge has finally been persuaded to retire, I think I mentioned that in my last letter. And we all know who's next in line!

Albus offers as his excuse for this stupidity that he must not be seen to be "soft" on Dark Arts issues.

Truth is that all it would take is a small meeting between Albus and Cranston, the Head of the Auror Department, and this Alexander thing would disappear. Truth is he wants Severus back here at Hogwarts.

He says it's the better to keep an eye on Severus, for his own security, but frankly, Freya, I think it's because, as we both know, Severus is one of the best Potions Masters in the country, and Albus wants him at Hogwarts, not elevating the reputation of some other institution. I am discovering just how fanatical the man is about the school and its reputation.

And I think he's angry that, for the first time, Severus is ignoring his orders. Since he came back from the Death Eaters all those years ago, Severus has never refused Albus anything. And it would seem that our eminent Headmaster is petty enough to be in a snit now that Severus is putting his concerns and obligations ahead of the Headmaster's.

Personally, I think Albus lost Severus when Alexander came into his life. I know that he certainly changed his tone towards the boy once he knew Severus was his father. Frankly, my dear, don't think that Albus appreciates having to play second fiddle to a child. And I think this has become, in his mind, a battle for Severus's loyalty. A battle Albus seems intent on not losing.

I wish he would wake up to the fact that should anything happen to Alexander, he hasn't a snowball's chance in hell of getting Severus back.

OH!

I am so disgusted with all their behaviours! What is it about men and their bloody egos!

Moving on to pleasanter news: I have finished that first draft you wanted on the problems of simultaneous menstruation in a school setting. I've included a section on the "delights" of having some fifty, sixty females all PMSing at the same time.

Take care, Freya, and give my best to Severus and Alexander.

I'm hoping that common sense or calmer minds prevail. Probably a vain hope.

Poppy.'

Snape wasn't surprised that there was another attempt to change his mind, but he was rather taken aback at the person who showed up.

Harry Potter.

Of all people.

He came out of his lab one sunny afternoon to find Alexander practicing Quidditch manoeuvers with someone. Freya was watching, her cherry winter cloak tightly wrapped about her, her cheeks and nose a matching red. She smiled at Snape as he joined her.

"Yes, I know," she said when he realized who was teaching Alexander the proper way of doing the Woollongong Shimmy. "But I think we should listen to what he has to say." Before Snape could respond, she placed a redmittened hand on his arm. "I have an idea. But I want to hear what he has to say before I move on it. Trust me?"

Trust her? Of course he trusted her. And he was so tired of trying to find a way out of this by himself. He looked at her and silently nodded. Together they stood watching Alexander screaming with delight as he zig-zagged through the air.

Harry was old enough to properly appreciate the glass of cognac he held in his hands. He was sitting in a comfortable armchair in Snape's library. His former Potions instructor and Freya Hillswick were on the couch, glasses in hands, waiting for him to begin. Alexander had disappeared into the upper reaches of the house. Harry assumed that he would remain there until called.

"First of all, I want you to know that no one's asked me to come. In fact, no one knows I'm here. I came because I think it's important that all this be cleared up."

He passed his hand through his hair. He'd been with Sirius at Hogwarts: his godfather was in discussions with Dumbledore about taking over the position of Flying Instructor and Quidditch coach when Madam Hooch retired at the end of term. The woman who had taken the Defence position was leaving in the spring: she was pregnant. Remus was in the running to take that position up once again.

When Remus had returned, there had been a screaming battle between the two of them about Remus's trip up here. And that was when he'd learnt about the situation with Alexander and Professor Snape.

And when he'd realized just why Sirius's responses were not particularly sane where Severus Snape was concerned. "He's always wanted you. What did you do to get near him? I don't suppose you bothered telling him we're lovers. I don't see why Albus wants him back here: he should have been the one to spend twelve years in Azkaban, feeding the Dementors!"

Harry took another swallow of the cognac and then rolled the glass between his hands. Neither Professor Snape nor Madam Hillswick commented. They just sat there and let him find his way through his thoughts.

"After Remus came back, I went to the Aurors and offered to provide testimony as to not only what I saw that day in the Circle of Stones, but also about the many times you saved my neck. They listened to me very politely but didn't write anything down, didn't ask me to sign anything." He sighed, another illusion gone, this time about the impartiality of the Aurors. "You're right. For some reason, they want you and, if they have to use Alexander to get you, they will. But they are also using Slytherin. The House is under extra surveillance and all Slytherin students, even though those there have been cleared, are confined to Hogwarts until further notice."

Harry placed his glass down. "I went to see Professor Dumbledore about this but he informed me that I was no longer a student, was not a member of the staff, and that I had other matters better suited to occupy my time."

Actually, what the Headmaster had told him was to mind his own business. That this concerned matters that had nothing to do with him. That since he was already getting the credit for eliminating Voldemort, did he really need any more attention? It had gotten him a position on the National Quidditch team, ahead of other far more worthy candidates. Wasn't that enough?

Harry stared at his hands. He had always respected the Headmaster, soon to be Minister for Magic, but that day, Harry had discovered that he really didn't like him all that much. As he hadn't liked facing the fact that he had been offered the position of second Seeker merely for his publicity value. He fully intended to show them differently.

"I went to Sirius." He sat back in time to see Professor Snape exchange a look with Madam Hillswick. "He knows a lot more than he was willing to admit, at first, about what you were doing for our side. I...I ah...convinced him to go to the Aurors and testify."

What he'd done was threaten to sever ties with his godfather. Alexander, he'd pointed out, was as innocent in all this as Sirius had been. Just because his father was Severus Snape was no reason to punish the boy. Rash, but at the time he'd been disgusted at what was going on and he'd reacted strongly. Maybe too strongly. Only time would tell if Sirius would truly forgive him.

"They listened even less politely than they had to me. They reminded him that he'd been recently pardoned, not exonerated."

"Do you know who's in charge of this investigation into me?"

Harry sighed. Finally, some reaction. "Section Chief Haney Moastifer. Do you know him?"

Snape stared into his glass. "Yes," he admitted, "I know him. We were in Slytherin together. He was a couple of years ahead of me. Until I showed up, he was the Potions whiz. He was...displeased that my marks surpassed his. He was used to being the focus of Professor Blender's attentions - Blender was the Potions instructor at that time - and he disliked the fact that Blender began having more time for me than he had for him."

Snape took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then there is the fact that one of the potions I created killed his older brother. Moastifer idolized his older brother."

Freya's fingers covered Snape's tightly clenched fist.

Harry grimaced. "Shit! Oh, excuse me, Madam Hillswick. I suppose this was when you were working for Voldemort?"

Snape nodded. "I thought he was using my potions on Muggles, not wizards and witches. I am not using that as an excuse for my behaviour, Potter. At that time, I didn't think Muggles were much more than pests put on this earth to plague us."

Harry was too young still to hide his shocked reaction to that. "Professor!"

Snape shrugged, "I was a child of my time and social class, Potter. And of my House. When I realized that Voldemort was testing my potions not just on Muggles, it made me take a good look at what was happening. Till then, I had been very content to remain in my lab and experiment in any direction that took my fancy. It was unfortunate that, at that time, my fancy was oriented to...anything that Voldemort wanted.

"That day, when I realized just what use my skills were being put to, I took a good look at the situation. And at my behaviour. And I concluded that Muggle or wizard, I didn't like what I was being done, so I went to Dumbledore. I expected to be punished for my role in the death of several witches and wizards; instead Dumbledore persuaded the then Minister for Magic and her Head of the Auror Department that having an inside man was more important.

"Moastifer probably had access to my file when he made Section Chief. He would have found out my role in his brother's death."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. This time, he caught the profanity before it slipped out. He stood and paced around the room to try and get his thoughts into focus.

He'd known that Professor Snape had had a past with Voldemort, that he was using it to their benefit. That much Dumbledore had let slip, after the Triwizard Tournament. And since then he'd learnt that though Voldemort had known Snape was spying on him, the Professor had usually managed to return with information that had given them the advantage more than once. And like everyone else in the school at the time, he knew that Snape's `accident' had been the result of an encounter with Voldemort.

Damn, why was everything shades of grey! What the hell was wrong with black and white!

Maybe this was what they meant by growing up.

"Look, it seems I have some influence with the Media. And if Remus and Sirius come out and make public what they know..."

"That won't change anything," said Snape. "The only thing that will appease Moastifer, and those who feel as he does, is my incarceration in Azkaban, and preferably a kiss from the Dementors."

Harry couldn't prevent the wince.

"If it were only me, only my future, I might very well agree to being Interrogated..."

Harry scowled. "It wouldn't be an Interrogation, it would be a meeting to answer questions."

"Yes, I understand that's what they're calling it these days. Either way, it would probably end in my death. But no matter what, the Aurors insist on questioning Alexander. First. And that I will not allow."

Harry dropped back in his chair, discouraged. "So what will he do? If Hogwarts won't accept him, neither will Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. What's he going to do? Be the conductor on the Knight Bus?"

"Master Potter." Freya Hillswick smiled at him, a gentle encouraging smile. "I agree with you. It would be a pity if Alexander did not get to finish his studies, all the more if he didn't do so at his father's school. Alexander loves Hogwarts, not just because it is his father's school. He has friends in Slytherin House, and I think in other Houses as well. And among the staff. The problem lies with the authorities who stand between him and his desire to attend Hogwarts.

"It would seem that the only solution to all this is to remove the cloud of suspicion that hangs over Severus's head. Once that matter has been cleared up, I think that all will be well. To that effect, may I ask you to present the following proposal to Headmaster Dumbledore, soon to be Minister for Magic. In fact, if you could wait until he has assumed that position, which I believe will be in less than two weeks?"

Harry nodded. He looked at Snape, who sat watching Madam Hillswick's face with no discernable emotion.

"Both Alexander and Severus will present themselves to whichever team of Aurors the Minister selects." She clamped her hand hard on Snape's to keep him still. He stared hard at her but kept quiet. "However, we shall select the location and time. The location will be here in the Village, at the Council House. You may indicate to the selected committee that they may bring along whatever security people they desire. The time will be the fourth week in May, May 24th to be precise, at one in the afternoon, our time. Tell them this is a one time offer. It is non-negotiable."

She patted Snape's clenched hand with her free one. "Now then, perhaps I shall see to supper and Alexander can be called down to discuss the latest Quidditch season with Master Potter."

Snape put his affairs in order.

He contacted Gringotts and arranged that should they not hear from him by the last stroke of midnight beginning May 25th, the entire contents of his vault were to be moved to the one he was opening for his son. He went through his papers and destroyed anything he didn't wish to fall into either Alexander's hands or those of the Aurors'. He focused on Alexander, to the exclusion of his lab work, continuing with his son's lessons as if Alexander would be joining his classmates come September.

He wrote to Evan Ddu and informed him of what was happening, asking him, if it were possible, without putting Rhodri into any danger, for the friendship between the two boys to continue, no matter what happened on the 24th of May. He was taken aback when Ddu offered to come stand by him.

Freya shook her head. "No. Please, Severus, thank him but tell him no."

He nodded and wrote to Evan Ddu.

"You haven't asked me anything about the 24th," she mentioned that evening as they sat in the library.

Alexander had gone to bed and Snape was going through his books, removing any loose papers he might have stored between their pages, inspecting them and either throwing them into the fire or putting them back where he had found them. He fully intended to pack all his books before the meeting and to hide them so that Alexander would be the only one to find them. He was not going to leave them to be confiscated by Aurors who would probably consign them to fire merely because he had owned them.

"You asked me to trust you and I am."

"I love you, Severus Snape. You do know that, I trust."

He paused, staring into a book, not seeing what was written there.

She came to stand by him. "I loved Inga's mother, Gudrid. Before she died, I promised her I would love and protect Inga and hers."

Snape didn't move. "Alexander is hers, not I."

"Through Alexander, you are hers. I promise you that Alexander will be safe and well, even after his meeting with the Aurors. As you will be."

Snape turned to face her. "I believe you for Alexander. As for myself..." He shrugged. "Maybe this way is best."

Freya Hillswick had the momentary image of a large bonfire with everyone who had taught Severus Snape he was not deserving of love burning in it.

The 24th of May dawned clear and bright.

Snape knew this because he observed the dawn from Inga's rock on the beach. He had dressed himself with care, as if laying himself out; he wore his best suit and newest robe.

He would miss this land. Azkaban, should he end up there alive enough to feed the Dementors, would take this away from him. The beauty of it. The alone-ness of it. Maybe if he stored enough of it in his memory, he might remember a little while longer than a few days.

Even Dementors couldn't destroy all the memories he had of Alexander, but the pleasure of them would provide the hideous guards with a feast.

He knew that Freya believed all would end well, but that wasn't his experience. He trusted her to protect Alexander and that was as much as he could hope for. He knew that Dumbledore was angry with him but he hoped that the new Minister for Magic would not take his displeasure out on his child. Evan Ddu had written that if anything happened, he was more than willing to take Alexander under his protection. Not an empty gesture. As Head of the Welsh Dragon Reserve, Evan Ddu had some fair pull in certain Departments. Unfortunately, his connections were not to any Ministry which could be of much help to Snape, but those he did have would allow him to prove difficult should Alexander need his help.

Snape waited until he knew the others were up and about before going in to pretend to eat breakfast.

Freya Hillswick knew that no matter what she said, Snape was certain that this was his last day with Alexander. She left them alone. Snape was surprisingly calm and Alexander, who had awakened nervous and fidgety, picked that up quickly. When it came time to leave for the Village, she found them in the library, Snape sitting on the couch with Alexander's head on his lap while he read one of the William books aloud to him.

The Village was not particularly large. It was home to only some two hundred members of the Hillswick Clan. At first, they had been wary of him, but his connection to Freya and Alexander Hillswick had allowed him entry into their society. Once they'd realized that the Wolfsbane Potion was his, they had been more open in welcoming him. Not something he was much used to. He was not a very sociable member of the community: he came to the Village only rarely, preferring to rely on Freya and Alexander to bring back what he needed. But when he did come, he was always welcomed with smiles at the small local businesses and was greeted in passing by those on its streets.

Snape finally noticed there were more people about in the Village than usual, many of whom he couldn't ever remember having seen before. Even Alexander seemed surprised, though it seemed that some of the newcomers knew him: they nodded as they walked by.

Freya said nothing, only leading them not to the Council House but to the school house where the young learned basic skills until they were old enough to move on to other institutions. There were several people waiting there for them. Snape recognized four of them as Elders of the Clan.

So this was why Freya had been certain that Alexander would be well and safe: his Clan had turned out to support him.

Snape looked about the room and noticed the local Potions Maker, Bera Hillswick, a young witch whom he'd taught to make the Wolfsbane Potion. She nodded at him, smiled at Alexander.

One of the Elders, Bera's father, came forward. "They arrived this morning," he snorted. "They've spent the day inspecting the Village and the premises, assuring themselves that all was as it should be. As if it would be otherwise."

His outright disdain of the Aurors told Snape that Moastifer's people had somehow managed to insult the Villagers.

"It is time," said another of the Elders, a witch who was older than Freya. "Come."

Snape, with a far too silent Alexander at his side, stepped out of the school house. Freya walked at the boy's other side. Snape was part-way to the Council House when he realized that not only were the people from the school house accompanying them, but others were joining them as well. By the time they arrived at the doors of the Council House, some two dozen men and women entered along with them.

Once inside, two of the Elders took up places just behind Snape while the others spread themselves about the meeting hall. Freya stood with Alexander.

At the front was a table with five chairs around it, placed facing the rest of the room. Each chair was filled with a dour-faced Auror.

To one side was a large wooden armchair, like that of a judge. The man who sat in it was tall, thin, with a pinched face and a closed expression. Snape recognized Haney Moastifer right away. He hadn't changed much since graduation, only gotten older.

Not one of the Aurors rose at the presence of the people who entered.

"What is this," sneered Moastifer, "your bodyguard? I recognize some of the Elders of the Village, Snape. Werewolves all. Your new crowd of supporters?"

Freya Hillswick spoke for them. "Alexander Hillswick is a werewolf, a member of this Clan. The Elders are here to verify that he is treated as he should be."

Moastifer looked at his men. His voice dripped with scorn. "As he should be, indeed."

"Excellent," said a new voice. "Then there won't be any problems."

Snape felt rather than heard Freya's sigh of relief.

Those from the Village turned and either bowed or curtseyed to the newcomer.

Snape didn't recognize the speaker who had entered the hall. He was a tall, strongly built wizard of about Dumbledore's age. Eyes were a startling grey and, though he was smiling at Freya and Alexander, his eyes were cold. His shoulder-length hair was a pale grey though his short beard was more blond with hints of red. His robes were richly decorated, gold on black velvet.

"Freya, dear," he kissed her on the cheek.

She shook her head. "I should have known," she said low enough so that only those nearby would hear. "Still need to make an appearance."

He smiled at her. "Alexander." And hugged the boy tightly to him.

"Bestefar," murmured Alexander, clutching his grandfather.

"It'll be all right," the man spoke softly, bending over as though to protect the boy. "Trust me."

Snape caught Freya's eye: she only smiled at him.

Moastifer called attention back to himself. He was loud and in an obviously snitty mood. "And just who do you think you are, breaking into a special meeting like this? All of you. I only require the presence of the Death Eater and his son. The rest of you, leave. Now."

The newcomer shook his head. "I don't think so. Do allow me to introduce myself. I am Oddvar Brekke. President of the International Federation of Warlocks. I am here to witness your questioning of my grandson and his father."

Snape was stunned. Brekke was Alexander's grandfather?

The Aurors at the table looked at each other and then slowly, one by one, they stood. The tension in the room shifted from the people in its centre to those at the front. Oddvar Brekke approached Moastifer and waited until the man reluctantly found his feet.

"I believe you are the Section Chief in charge of this meeting. May I see your credentials?"

The assembled Aurors gasped softly. Moastifer went white.

"Surely," drawled Brekke, "you did not think that you would be allowed to question anyone without presenting them. After all, we do need to know that you are indeed whom you profess yourself to be."

Dear Merlin, thought Snape.

And with that, the President of the IFOW sat himself down in the Section Head's chair, and lazily crossed one leg over the other.

"You do have them, have you not?'

With gritted teeth, Moastifer held his hand out and one of the Aurors at the table hurriedly went through a file. He rushed over to present the document. Brekke waited until Moastifer pulled it out of his assistant's hand and presented it to him.

Brekke made a show of inspecting the document. Snape was very aware that even if he wanted, the President could not override this authority, but he certainly had the right and the power of his position to participate, should he wish. And it was obvious that he wished.

Eyes on the document, Brekke drawled, "I assume by your surprise at my appearance that you did not know of Alexander's relationship to myself. May I say that indicates incomplete preparation on your part, Section Chief Mousetifer."

"Moastifer," corrected the Section Chief, through gritted teeth. He turned to nearest Auror at the table. "I want to know why no one picked this up in the background check." In his anger, he forgot to whisper.

"Very well," Brekke handed the authority back to the man, "you may begin."

"These people..."

"These people are here at my behest, Section Chief. I merely want to prove to them that, werewolves though they be, they have nothing to fear from Aurors, who seek only the truth. Oh, before you commence... Finnbogi!"

A small, rabbity looking wizard came rushing past Snape to stand at the President's side. With a nod to Brekke, he loudly cleared his throat then pulled a long scroll out of one robe pocket, an inkwell and a quill from another. At some mumbled words, the quill dipped itself in the inkwell, the scroll began unrolling itself while the quill hovered over the parchment, ready for action.

"Finnbogi will see to it that all words are transcribed. Just in case an appeal should be made to the International Court."

Moastifer went red.

Snape felt a tight part of himself ease: Alexander would be safe. His grandfather was seeing to that. Brekke did not need to specify that the request for appeal could come from either side. However, no court would disallow testimony of this kind. Certainly not from someone of Brekke's position.

"I believe you wished to begin with my grandson." Brekke gestured with a hand. "Please do so."

Brekke could see that the meeting did not go how Moustifer had planned.

First of all, Alexander refused to take any Veritaserum. A sure sign of guilt, in normal situations. But this situation was anything but normal.

Before Moustifer had a chance to attack the child for his refusal, the President interrupted. "Alexander. Why don't you want to take the Veritaserum?"

The boy looked at his father then his grandfather. "Because papa didn't make it."

The President nodded. "I see. Section Chief, may I inquire? Who fabricated this potion?"

Moustifer really should learn to control his face better, Brekke noted. The man was already gnashing his teeth.

"It comes out of our laboratory, Mr. President. It's the one we use all the time."

Alexander grunted a small noise that caused Brekke to wonder if he had picked that skill up from his father.

"Yes, Alexander?"

"A dozen Slytherins vomited for days after taking their potion. Three others went into severe convulsions and another into a coma all after ingesting their potion. It took several weeks of being under Madam Pomfrey's care for all of them to recover."

Brekke was impressed: so the boy had his sources within Hogwarts, did he!

"Mr. President..."

Brekke ignored Moustifer. "So, if the Veritaserum came from your father's lab, you would take it?"

Alexander managed to look insulted on his father's behalf. "Of course."

"I protest," Moastifer was red-faced. "Are we to assume that ..."

"Yes, yes. I get your point. Definitely not a solution. Well, Alexander, what do you suggest? The Section Chief needs some kind of reassurance that you are telling the truth."

Alexander drew himself up straight. "I do not lie."

Brekke refused to challenge that. He knew boys. He knew that Alexander wouldn't see it that way, but he had most certainly had occasion to work the truth to his advantage. Yes, Freya was biting her lip.

"Well, Alexander," Brekke's tone was very grandfatherly, "of course I believe you, but that's because I know you. The Section Chief does not."

Alexander nodded. "I swear I will tell the truth. Wolf's honour."

"Very well, Alexander. You may continue, Section Chief."

Moustifer took too much delight in heaping the scorn he felt this deserved. "Not well at all, Mr. President. You can't seriously expect us to take the word of a..."

The room growled. Even Brekke was startled by the reaction of the spectators.

Brekke stopped being the grandfather and became the President. He was pleased to see it gave Moustifer pause.

"I see that your research is more than incomplete: it is nonexistent. You have come into werewolf territory unprepared, Section Chief Moustifer. Is this the normal level of competence for the famous Aurors of Great Britain? Finnbogi! Explain just how insulting the Section Chief has inadvertently - I do sincerely hope it was inadvertent - how insulting he has been."

Finnbogi stepped away from the quill and scroll which continued their work and, clearing his throat, recited: "In amongst Werewolf Clans, an oath taken on a Wolf's Honour is sacrosanct. Any violation is punishable by death. Said death will be at the teeth and claws of his peers whose duty it will be to tear him apart." And then he stepped back to his scroll.

President Brekke nodded at Section Chief Moustifer. "Pray continue."

Moustifer did.

He began by indicating that there must have been a nefarious reason for his attending Hogwarts instead of the institution werewolves usually attended. Had his mother often been in contact with other Death Eaters?

"Section Chief, my daughter is dead. She is not here to answer to this preposterous claim of yours. Pray keep your accusations to the living who can."

Had Hillswick known that his father was a Death Eater? No? Did he think his mother would have left him in the care of someone so dangerous if she had known?

"Again, Section Chief, supposition on your part. We cannot ask my daughter what her intentions were other than the obvious; that Alexander should attend his father's school."

Moustifer challenged the boy's knowledge and use of Petificus Totalus.

Brekke sighed loudly as once more he interrupted. "Section Chief, I taught him that particular spell. And others as well. The boy had ability, so why not? Moreover, here in the North, we tend to teach defensive manoeuvers to our young early.

"The land here can be hostile, as you may know, Section Chief. And we have often learnt, to our peril, that strangers from other regions are far less tolerant of our tribal units. A Petrificus safeguards our children and doesn't eliminate the stranger."

Moustifer tried his best to upset the boy, to get him to confess that there had been no kidnapping by Draco Malfoy; that he had gone willingly with the man.

Brekke sat quietly as he realized that his grandson could take care of himself. Unlike the Section Chief, he remained calm, though now and then, his face went white, his voice rose, and he had to take a deep breath find his calm again.

Once, Snape took a step forward and Brekke wondered if the man was going to lose his. But after sharing a look with Alexander, Snape stepped back. Brekke found that he was growing more impressed with his grandson by the minute, especially when it became obvious that Moustifer was finding his own presence restricting. He had no doubt that the Auror had to physically restrain himself from hitting the boy, that he would have enjoyed doing so, if only to push the father.

Moustifer was beginning to lose control. He was now in Alexander's face, continually screaming at him, challenging him on what he had seen that famous night, calling the boy's `interpretations' into question. The boy held firm in his account in spite of the spray of saliva wetting his face. Before Snape reached his limit of tolerance, Brekke did.

"Section Chief, Alexander may not take offense at your tone, but please note that I do. Hostility and belligerence will not help us clear up this matter. The boy has sworn that he is telling the truth. You might remember that. I can assure you that we here present all do. The purpose of this questioning was so Alexander could respond to your concerns about what happened. He has done so. With great patience, and forbearance, I would like to add. Unless, of course, you have an ulterior agenda for this meeting. If so, you might like to reconsider. This is not a Court of Law, per se, but we could certainly move it to one."

Finnbogi reminded everyone of his presence with a slight clearing of his throat. Moustifer's eyes went to the scroll and its quill.

He acknowledged defeat in this matter.

"The boy may go."

Brekke folded his hands on his stomach. "Are you certain that you have done with Alexander? That you have no more questions to ask him?"

"He may leave," repeated Moustifer.

Alexander didn't move.

"So, there will be no problem with his attending Hogwarts come September."

Moustifer shook his head. That wasn't enough for Brekke. In his most presidential voice, he intoned, "You, as Section Chief of the Department of Aurors, are completely satisfied that Alexander Hillswick, son of Inga Hillswick and of Severus Snape, is not involved nor associated in any manner, way or form with the forces of the wizard known as Voldemort."

The formalized statement seemed to be yet another surprise. Moustifer turned to face the President. "The boy is absolutely cleared. We thank him for his co-operation and wish him the best at Hogwarts and in his chosen career."

The President accepted that. "Very well. Alexander, would you please leave us. I believe your cousins are waiting for you."

Alexander nodded. Face as calm as it had been throughout the interrogation, he turned to leave. But once his back was to the Aurors, his face crumbled and he rushed over to his father.

Snape bent and hugged his son tightly. "I love you so much," he spoke softly but with pride. Brekke could only agree: the boy was something to be proud of.

Alexander clung tightly, his face buried against Snape's chest. "Love you, too," he finally murmured.

Freya stepped up to them. "Alexander."

Snape pulled away. "Go now."

"Before I continue," snarled Moastifer, "is there anything I should know about your relationship with this man, Snape, the Death Eater?"

The President sat back and shook his head thoughtfully. "No. Other than he is the father of my grandson, but you know that now. However, these people shall remain, because as the father of a member of this Clan, the Clan has an interest in the proceedings."

"And your presence is to ensure..." Moastifer asked, less politely than he should have.

Brekke's smile was cold. "My presence is as a member of a different yet sister Werewolf Clan which also has a definite interest in these proceedings. Ah, that surprises you, Section Chief. It shouldn't. Many of us Northlanders are either members of a Clan or affiliated with one. You people really do need to find yourselves better researchers."

Oddvar Brekke sat back and watched as the Section Chief took out his frustrations from the earlier interrogation on the man who had fathered his much-loved grandson. He had been able to mitigate the interrogation on his grandson's behalf: there was very little he could do at the moment on behalf of the boy's father, and he thought that Snape was very aware of the fact. Still, he had no intention of leaving the man to the Aurors' so obvious intent of destroying him.

He had loved his daughter, almost as much as he had loved her mother. When the Fever had taken Gudrid and Inga had become so ill, he had allowed Freya Hillswick to take the child back to her mother's people and a life less filled with stress and strains. She'd even assumed her mother's Clan name as a way of remaining out of the Brekke very public eye.

Once and a while, when he could fit it in, he would come and spend a few days, but the isolation and the non-existent political and social life got to him very quickly. Still, in an environment that would have seen the death of him, his daughter not only lived but had gradually become stronger. Not well, but stronger.

And then there had been the news that she had gotten pregnant and refused to name the man, though he was certain that Freya had known more than she had been willing to say. He knew that only her skills as a physician had allowed Alexander to be born and for Inga to live years longer than had been predicted.

Before she'd died, his daughter had sent him a letter, explaining who Alexander's father was and why she was sending her son to a British school, rather than the one most werewolves attended. The school in Lillehammer might not have the reputation of the larger European schools, but a werewolf could attend openly and get a more than decent education.

He loved Alexander, as he did all his grandchildren. And following Inga's request, he had allowed the boy and the man time to solidify their relationship. Besides, Freya was still involved and nothing much could get past her. He knew; he'd tried often enough, with very little success.

Moustifer was back to yelling again. He now knew where Alexander had gotten his stoicism. Snape barely blinked at the man's accusations and blatant innuendo. He waited until Moustifer stopped screaming and then he answered, voice calm... No, expressionless really.

And he didn't like Moustifer any more than the Auror liked him. But he was better at hiding it. Only his eyes gave him away.

Brekke made a mental note to keep an eye on Moustifer. Not that he could do much, British Aurors were a British responsibility. But how had the man ever made Section Chief with that personality?

And did Moustifer seriously believe the crap he was spouting at Snape? Maybe he should offer the Aurors access to his own files on Severus Snape. They filled a very large box in his office.

Yes, the man had done things that he shouldn't have, but, in the long run, all that had been important to Brekke was that his grandson loved his father and was loved back in return. And that Freya had no problem backing Severus Snape.

He had been much impressed with the way Alexander had handled Moustifer's interrogation. What was he now? Twelve? No, thirteen. Took after the Hillswicks in stature and in form. Definitely after his father in that little sneer he seemed to have mastered. In temper and determination. In courage as well. Inga had faced death with dignity, but the boy, from the reports he'd read, had spat in its face.

Severus Snape was no slouch in that area as well. Moustifer was growing more and more red in the face, literally spitting out accusations and `proofs' of Snape's role as an agent for the Dark Forces. Questioning him about his role in the murder of innocent witches and wizards, mocking or pouring disdain on Snape's calm, unemotional answers. Now and then, he looked to those listening, as though inviting them to join him in his mockery. They didn't.

The only signs Alexander had shown of the tension he had been under during Moustifer's idiotic interrogation had been whitened fists, a clenched jaw in a colourless face. Apart from the occasional tremor - of anger, not fear - his voice had remained, on the whole, quite controlled.

Now the President listened as the man accused of horrible crimes as a Death Eater answered his interrogator in a monotone that was driving the man to even greater flights of accusation. He sighed softly. Did the Aurors not think that people other than themselves knew the true facts of the situation?

Brekke found that Snape did not back away from the facts. He admitted that yes, he had been responsible for the death of many Muggles and several witches and wizards. No, he had not known that his potions were being used on his kind. No, he had not used any kind of coercion on Dumbledore thereby forcing the man to speak out for him at the original trials.

Brekke noticed that Snape did not indicate that Moustifer should go to Dumbledore himself for confirmation. So, the report that the two men were no longer allies was true. He focused his attention totally on Snape.

No, Snape had not supervised the death of any wizard at Voldemort's request. No, he could not prove that he had not stood over Voldemort's victims, mocking their last moments. He was not guilty of such behaviour, not even with Muggles.

He admitted to the guilt of being blind, self-centred, arrogant, for thinking that his skills separated him from all that was going on, for his belief that what had been going on in the world about him had nothing whatsoever to do with him. And, in spite of the Section Chief's comments, he had not expected to `get away with murder'.

That got Brekke's attention. Did Moustifer really think that particular accusation was going to win the spectators over to his side? Werewolves? Here, in the North, it was not unheard of werewolves being involuntarily used as the instruments of death. A long-living uncle standing between you and his fortune? Pity, dear old uncle was wandering about during a full moon when he encountered a werewolf.

The Clan would understand Snape far better than his own people seemed to.

Brekke looked at Elder Hillswick and saw that, in fact, Moustifer's line of questioning was probably backfiring on the man. Yes, the Elder was taking a step closer to Snape. Closer in support, not away in disgust.

Finnbogi approached Brekke and surreptitiously passed a note to him all the while making it obvious he was showing him the time.

Yes, time was growing to be a problem. Well, Moustifer had had more than enough fun with his prey: it was time to put an end to it. Damn it, he would have to remember never to play poker with Snape. The man's expression hadn't once changed under the barrage of attacks to his honesty, his intelligence, his integrity. Even, as Moustifer grew desperate, his sexuality.

"Section Chief Moustifer."

"MOASTIFER!" screamed the Section Chief.

Brekke ignored his tone. "This is getting us nowhere, Section Chief. Finnbogi!"

His assistant's nose was twitching furiously, a sure sign that Finnbogi was reaching the limit of his own patience.

"Finnbogi, I believe that you have sworn testimony that supports much of Professor Snape's version of events. Please present them to the Section Chief."

Moastifer quickly scanned all the documentation, noting the signatures were those of Rhodri Ddu, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black.

"We have already heard this testimony, and we have concluded that it is not reliable," Moustifer said with obvious relish.

Brekke made a show of shrugging. "Interesting. It was considered to be reliable enough by Chief Justice Hecabate de Moirois, of the International Court."

Moastifer had trouble breathing.

"The International Court feels there are no grounds for perse...for prosecution. On this testimony of your very own compatriots, Section Chief. Tell me, does Great Britain feel that her laws are so very different from those of the international community, that she can prosecute and imprison a man whom the rest of the wizard world feels is, if not exonerated, at least corroborated?"

One of the Aurors at the table began closing his files and stacking them, a sure sign that, to his mind, this session was over.

Moustifer had gone from red to white. He glared at the President. "That bastard is not getting away with murder!" And he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Snape.

No sooner done than it flew out of his hand and into Finnbogi's, who took great pleasure in snapping it in half with a flip of his wand, which he then pointed at the Section Chief.

Moustifer's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Brekke's voice cut a cold slash at the Aurors. "Among his many duties, Finnbogi has taken on that of my personal security. There have been the occasional threats to my life and he feels since he is always by my side he can easily intervene should it be necessary. It is standard procedure."

Oddvar Brekke stood up, every inch a president.

"I think that I should also mention that, at this time of the year, the full moon rises early - actually, in just a few minutes - and that none of you is of werewolf blood. You might find it convenient to disapparate from just outside the side entrance. My men have cordoned off a small area that should remain relatively safe for all of you for some time."

One of the older Aurors, who had sat motionless at the table throughout the afternoon, now rose to his feet. "Mr. President, my name is MacBeth. I represent the legal department of the Aurors. No, you may not interrupt, Moastifer; we will deal with you later. As you say, Mr. President, the moon will rise soon and it is obvious that we must be away. However, we still have the problem of what to do with Professor Snape here in Great Britain."

There was a loud rumble in the room. The man ignored it to concentrate his focus on the President.

"I agree that there may not be solid grounds for incarceration, but we are not persuaded that, with the professor's knowledge of and/or his ties to the Dark Forces, he is completely innocent. These have been, as you well know, Mr. President, difficult times for us here. Our people were the ones who suffered greatly at the hands of Death Eaters and, though I do accept that the Professor was sometimes working on our side, many others do not and will not, no matter what proof is presented to them. We could go through a public trial, fully exonerate the Professor, and still I believe that the general public would think that we have been duped.

"We have limited resources, Mr. President. We cannot guarantee the safety of Professor Snape. His son will be attending Hogwarts and, I'm sure that you will agree, the security there is second to none. Alexander Hillswick will have nothing to worry about. But the professor is another matter."

"And your suggestion, Under-Head MacBeth?" Brekke smiled politically, "Yes, I know who you are: my people do research thoroughly."

Finnbogi's nod was quite condescending.

"My suggestion is that the Professor must be seen to have been punished, even if it be only in the public mind. To that effect, I pronounce Banishment on him. To this section of the Islands. To the Village of Hillswick and the property belonging to Alexander Hillswick."

Brekke paused then nodded and faced his grandson's father. "Professor Severus Snape, is this acceptable to you?" Then, to be honest, he added, "If you wish, there is enough testimony that you could bring suit in the International Court in hopes of exonerating yourself completely."

He knew Snape had been expecting Azkaban, and Brekke didn't trust for Alexander's security if he decided to force the issue. He hoped Snape would see it that way as well.

Snape did. "I accept the Pronouncement of Banishment to this section of the territory of Great Britain, to the Village of Hillswick and the property belonging to Alexander Hillswick."

Under-Minister Macbeth nodded. "Should you ever be discovered in any other part of Britain, you will be immediately arrested and sent to Azkaban."

Snape's chin rose slightly. "I understand."

MacBeth signalled to one of the Aurors to escort the Section Chief to the door. The others quickly prepared to leave.

At the doorway, Macbeth turned to face Snape. "You seem to have forgotten, Professor, that your son is a werewolf through his mother, not you. Of all the people who will be left in this room when the moon rises, in..." he glanced at his fob, "less than 30 seconds, it would seem that you are the only human."

And, with a smirk, he closed the door behind him.

The werewolves present had been disrobing during that final pronouncement. Brekke approached Snape and stood by him, watching as transformations took place.

Bera Hillswick, the Potion Maker for the community smiled, at them both. "If you stay where you are, the Elders will form an escort for you, Professor Snape. You are perfectly safe: everyone in this room has taken their Wolfsbane Potion."

Snape nodded to her. That's all he could manage, he was suddenly that exhausted.

Brekke slipped his hand under Snape's arm. "I know that you must have many questions, but they will have to wait until we get back to the house. Shall we go find Freya and the boy?"

At the front entrance, Brekke stopped to look around at the gathering of werewolves and their own. Snape, his escort lowly growling, stood next to him. Brekke shook his head. "You would think that they would have at least known that there is always a gathering of the Clan at this time of the year."

"Freya knew this?" Snape was trying to find his son among the younger wolves.

Brekke snorted. "Is there anything that Freya doesn't know?"

Snape turned his attention to the man next to him. Brekke grinned at him. "The Hillswick females are something quite extraordinary, Severus. Don't ever forget that. Ah, Freya, were your ears burning?"

Freya shook her head as if discouraged. "Oddvar, my ears are always burning when you're around." She went to hug Snape. "Severus?"

"Banishment. Here."

Freya rose on tiptoe and kissed his cold, white cheek.

A young wolf came looping over. "Alexander," said Brekke, "ah, there you are. Now we can all go back to the house. Unless you'd rather stay with your cousins?"

One of the younger cubs who had been deemed too young for the Wolfsbane slipped under Snape's guards and suddenly sprang at him, jaws open wide, low growl from his throat. Before anyone could deal with the cub, Alexander grabbed him by the neck and shook him until Brekke thought that the cub's neck would break. Snape put a quick end to a possible tragedy.

"Alexander! Stop that! Immediately!"

And he did. Reluctantly. He allowed the now whimpering cub to drop to the ground where Bera Hillswick quickly scooped him up, soothing him, taking him away from the others.

"Severus," Freya patted the man on his shoulder, "perhaps you and Alexander should disapparate home first."

"Into the yard, Severus," added Brekke. "My people will be around the house, for security reasons. And they will have placed an anti-apparation spell on the house itself."

Snape nodded. He stooped, clumsily picked up his son in his arms, and disapparated.

"Well?"

Oddvar Brekke shrugged. "You were right. He is a good man."

"Of course, I was right." Freya Hillswick smirked. "I am always right." And disapparated.

Laughing, Brekke signalled his men, and followed her.

They apparated in the front yard of the house. Snape and Alexander were still there. Snape was kneeling, his arms tightly wrapped around his son's chest, his face buried in the shoulder of the young wolf who was whimpering.

Brekke watched as Freya quickly took command. She ordered them into the kitchen where Ketil was already filling the table with foods of all kinds. Some of his own favourites, he noticed. All the thanks he knew he would get from Freya Hillswick for the strings he had pulled so that de Moirois would act quickly on the evidence.

Alexander voraciously devoured a bowl of thick stew, looking up every now and then to make certain that his father was sitting in his chair. Freya had handed Snape a glass of aquavita. He'd gone a little bleary-eyed at the strength of the drink, but it seemed to be exactly what he'd needed: colour began coming back into his face and he looked less strained. Freya lost her worried look when he slowly began eating.

Stomach full, the young wolf lay next to his father, placed his head on one of the man's feet and drowsed while the adults finished their meal. Brekke noticed that Snape's hand often slipped down to touch the wolf, offering comfort and reassurance. Probably, he thought, for both of them.

After a while, Freya somehow convinced Alexander that he would be more comfortable sleeping in his own bed. Knowing that his own day was not over, Snape agreed with her and Alexander, head and tail drooping, followed Freya up the stairs to his bedroom.

"I think we would be more comfortable in the library," said Snape, leading the way.

Brekke spent some minutes walking around the room, exploring the contents of the shelves, pausing here and there to read the spines of books. At the table, he picked up a scroll with what he recognized as Alexander's handwriting. He read a few inches then looked up at the man watching him from his chair by the fire. "Did you help him with this?"

Snape shook his head. "I suggested the topic, directed him to the proper shelf, and the rest is all his."

Brekke read a few more inches of Alexander's analysis of the causes of the origins of conflict between giants and wizards. "He's trying hard for balance. Equal blame." He scanned the rest of it quickly. "Good conclusion. His suggestions for what should have been the course of action are quite sound." He looked up. "Very politic."

Snape nodded. "Yes. He seems to have a good grasp of the nuances of political action. Until today, I never knew where that came from. I must apologize..."

"Whatever for?" Brekke placed the scroll down and made himself comfortable on the couch. He liked this room, he decided, and he thought he was going to like the man it reflected.

"I never asked Alexander for information about his family. I assumed that the Clan here was his only one."

Brekke smiled. "I doubt very much that had you asked Alexander he would have thought to mention my election to the post of President. To him, I am only Bestefar. As for Freya, had she thought it important, she would have mentioned it. As you can see, Freya is no more impressed by my accomplishments than Alexander would be." Brekke shook his head. "Very humbling. But then the Hillswick women are not easily impressed. Gudrid would never allow me to get away with what she called my pompous political manner." He smiled, remembering.

Snape waited a moment then forged into the matter. "You will have questions you want answered."

Brekke took a moment to stroke his beard. "Very few. Severus, before we begin, there is one thing I do want to make clear to you. This afternoon, I was not waiting for a dramatic moment to announce de Moirois's findings. Finnbogi had literally just handed me her decision moments before I did. Freya has accused me of enjoying my moment of drama but it really was that close."

Snape accepted that with a nod. "I am still astonished that you went to such extreme measures for someone you don't know."

"First of all, I have to confess there is little about you that I don't know."

Snape's head went back on that, but he remained silent.

"Finnbogi, in his sleep, could run circles around the average research department. I may have trusted my daughter's assessment of you, but I confirmed it for myself.

"Secondly, they weren't just my measures. Freya suggested to Harry Potter that he should gather all the testimonies that he could and to forward them to her. She sent them on to me and those, in conjunction with all the reports I have read on you, made the decision an easy one."

"I find that hard to believe. However, I owe them all my thanks and will say so." Snape looked at his folded hands. "I hope you will understand, but I need to know: what payment do you expect to receive from me for this support on your part?"

Brekke's initial reaction was that of insult and then he quickly remembered Freya and her assessment of the man. That and a few of the facts that he had garnered from Finnbogi's reports made sense of Snape's expectations.

He shook his head. "It is I who was repaying a debt."

Snape's confusion was all too obvious. Brekke continued. "Alexander. You are responsible for the child who brought untold pleasure to my child. Who added good years to her life. You are the father of my grandson, Severus. Your love for the boy was all the motivation that I needed."

Then he smiled, not his political smile, but the one he kept for family and friends. "Mind you, there is one little favour I would like."

Snape's stiffening told him that he would have to tread carefully with his teasing. "I am having a birthday celebration towards the end of August. My one hundred and thirty-fifth. The whole family, as well as selected guests, are gathering for the occasion. It would be a pleasure to have you and Alexander attend."

Snape relaxed. "Alexander, I am certain, would be delighted to attend. Perhaps Freya could accompany him?"

"Not you?"

Snape's eyebrows rose. "You seem to have forgotten that only hours ago I was placed under Banishment."

Brekke scoffed. "Yes, when you're in this jurisdiction. But there is nothing preventing you from travelling."

"I doubt," Snape's natural sarcasm returned with his comfort level, "that the Ministry for Travel will be forthcoming with any documents I should require for that purpose."

Brekke actually laughed. "By Odin! Severus, your child's grandfather is the President of the International Federation of Warlocks. Finnbogi will see that you are assigned something under international auspices."

Freya entered the room, smiling at the two men. "It's good to hear laughter in this room again. It's been rather dour these past weeks."

"Is Alexander all right?"

Brekke noted the concern. His daughter had chosen well, he thought.

"Sound asleep. It took several chapters of William and a lullaby that I used to sing to him when he was a baby, but he'll be all right. He was far more worried about you than he was for himself. The fact that you're here is really all that he needs." She sat next to Brekke on the couch. He reached over and took one of her hands in his.

"So, have you decided yet to marry me, Freya of the Bright Eyes?"

Freya couldn't fail to notice Severus's surprise. She pulled her hand sharply away from the man who was grinning at her. "Old goat! Aren't you content with this wife? What is she, your seventh or eighth?"

"Alas!" Brekke lay a hand on his chest over his heart. "I seem to find myself wife-less yet again."

"Oddvar! Again?" She sighed loudly. "I don't understand how someone who is as politically astute as you, whose negotiating skills are legendary, can't keep a wife."

"Probably because she's not a Hillswick." He addressed Snape. "If Gudrid had not died, I believe I would still be wed to her."

"Gudrid," explained Freya, settling in for a cosy bit of family teasing, "was already Wife Number Three."

Brekke nodded. "Yes, but I truly think she would have been the last one. She never ever let me get away with anything. Like you."

Freya scoffed. "I am nothing like Gudrid."

Brekke laughed. "No, indeed you are not. Compared to her, you are an invisible wallflower, submissive and totally compliant to and respectful of the wishes of men."

Snape's shout of laughter caught both their attentions.

Brekke grinned. "Ah, so I see that I, too, have not been the only one to suffer the subtle manipulations of a Hillswick female!" He shared a look of mutual commiseration and understanding with Snape.

Freya merely smiled.

Severus Snape looked at the crowd that had dispersed after Oddvar Brekke's speech of thanks and shook his head.

True to his word, three days after the meeting with the Aurors that had ended with the Pronouncement of Banishment, an owl had arrived with documents from Finnbogi that would allow him to travel anywhere he wanted, as long as where he wanted was not any place in Great Britain other than his home and the Village.

Alexander had been delighted at the thought of joining this branch of his mother's family for a birthday celebration. Snape spied him, broomstick in hand, on the way to an unpeopled part of the garden, the better to show off his Quidditch skills to some cousins.

For several days after the meeting with the Aurors, Alexander had barely allowed him out of his sight. He seemed to have regressed in age and in his need for reassurance. Snape spent hours with his son cuddled next to him, reading to him from whatever book was at hand. He had no trouble admitting - but only to himself - that he too needed to sense his son's presence, needed the comfort of his touch, even his scent. Gradually, they had returned to normal, but the bonds between them had been made all that much stronger.

Snape had gotten a nice letter from Evan Ddu, congratulating him on having `vanquished the bastards', and offering to help prepare Alexander for the coming year.

`He's going to need to equip himself and, if you'll allow, if you send him to us for a few days before the start of the school term, Rhiannon and I will be delighted to escort him to Diagon Alley. Rhodri would love seeing him again and we would love having him.

I understand that you can't join us, but perhaps Alexander's Freya could. I know that Rhiannon wouldn't mind having another woman along for the trip. She complains that all Rhodri and I do is talk Quidditch, visit Fortescue's, and refuse to pop our heads into Madam Malkin's. As though any sane man would be caught dead there for any time absolutely longer than to try on a new robe. Have you ever seen what that woman carries in her back room? Actually, if you can convince Freya to come, you'll be doing me a great favour.

And I don't think you need worry about your boy's reception at school. Rhodri has already sent owls to most of Slytherin that Alexander is coming back. Seems their Quidditch captain is looking forward to the arrival of his potential whiz Seeker. Other than that one game against Gryffindor last term, they haven't exactly been on a winning streak.'

So Alexander would be leaving a few days early, going to the Welsh Dragon Reserve in the Snowdon District with Freya and, from there, to school.

A burst of laughter got his attention. Freya was holding court with several women of varying ages: the group consisted of Oddvar's ex-wives. Snape assumed that Freya was representing Gudrid. There were eight of them in all. Snape shook his head. He couldn't fathom that many ex-mates getting along so well together. He couldn't even fathom that many wives, period. Mind, from the tone of the laughter and the occasional comment he caught, he thought that it was a good thing that Oddvar was occupied with wellwishers.

What fascinated him was that they were all professional women in their own right. Politicians, doctors, lawyers, diplomats, professors of specialized studies. Two were from non-Scandinavian countries. All were beautiful, even those closer in age to Oddvar than to his children. The man seemed equally drawn to intelligence as well as beauty.

The women were dressed in the bright, colourful robes that seemed to be the norm up here, in the land of the midnight sun. Freya's cherry red was nothing out of the ordinary. One of the women was garbed in a burnt orange, another in canary yellow. One was wearing a robe of such brilliant lime green that looking at it for any length of time made him nauseous.

Even the men tended to favour colours rather than the somber or dark tones of Britain. His was the only black robe in the gathering. Alexander had been gifted with a set of formal robes in Slytherin green by Freya and he was already wearing the summer version with pride. Snape wondered if he would be allowed to wear them at Hogwarts or if that would be considered `impolitic'.

One of the Light Elves, who had assumed the role of servers for the feast, came by and offered to take his now empty glass. Snape nodded and hesitated but accepted another of the ice-cold, colourless vodka. He really shouldn't be drinking any more: he had never been much of a drinker. But he wasn't used to gatherings like this and he felt uncomfortable. As usual, he didn't fit in and, though he was used to that, this time, it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

The drink went down smoothly, far too smoothly. He accepted a third one.

And then a fourth. And then a fifth.

Minerva McGonagall questioned her own actions as she strode off the school grounds in the black of night. The new term was only three days away and she really had far too much to do to be out on what she supposed would prove to be a wild-goose chase.

Still, the note that had been delivered to her office by special owl that afternoon had been both specific - `Midnight tonight at the place where you found me that May day.' - and mysterious enough - unsigned - for her to be out here, making her way to a site on the path to Hogsmeade instead of clearing some of the Hogwarts paperwork.

She arrived at the specified location and waited, wand in hand just in case she would need it. Five minutes, she said to herself, and then she'd go back. Really, all those forms wouldn't fill themselves. She only wished they would. No one had mentioned the amount of paperwork when she'd agreed to...

"Headmistress."

McGonagall turned to the sound of the voice. In the bare visibility of the night, she could just make out the form of the speaker.

"You've taken quite a chance, haven't you, Severus, that I haven't alerted the authorities."

With a shrug, Snape slipped the hood of his cloak back then moved close enough that she could make out his face.

"I trusted in your sense of fair play. Was I wrong, Minerva?"

She shook her head. "I assumed that if you were willing to come here, it must have something to do with Alexander."

He nodded. "I have been assured by the Aurors..."

She wanted to wince at the bitterness that laden his tone but merely nodded her understanding for the purpose of this meeting.

"...that Alexander is no longer on their list of suspects. That he is safe. From them. My son has been looking forward to his return to school, and I merely wish to assure myself that he will not be treated differently than any other student. That he will not be made to pay for this feud which seems to have developed between myself and the former headmaster."

McGonagall's tone was no less biting than his. "There is no need for concern on your part. Alexander is merely another of the students here. Other than the necessary accommodation, he will receive no special treatment."

She expected him to snarl back, not smile at her. She didn't think that Severus Snape had ever smiled at her, not as one of her students, certainly not as a fellow staff member.

"I knew, but I find that, like any doting father, I sometimes need reassurance that my child will be well treated."

She shook her head in amazement. "You've changed."

He shrugged. "We all change. It comes with time and age. May I continue playing the worried parent and ask if someone has yet been selected to head Slytherin?"

"Yes, you may. I shall be Head of Slytherin House, for this year at least."

"As well as Headmistress? That's a heavy load. Will you have time for the House, time that it needs?"

"I sense concern for more than your child, Severus."

He shrugged again. "Are you saying that the Gryffindors were not your children, Minerva? You defended them as any lioness would her cubs. Gryffindor cubs."

She wanted to bristle at the implied challenge to her loyalties. But she understood him: Slytherin House had been his for so long. "Now I defend my Slytherin cubs."

"Do you?"

She nodded. "In my position as Headmistress, I have made it very clear that I will tolerate no aspersions cast onto any House here at Hogwarts. Most especially Slytherin. By anyone, either inside Hogwarts or outside it. All privileges have been returned to the House. It will not be treated any differently from the other three."

He nodded. "Minerva," his voice almost conciliatory, "please take the time to listen to them. No matter what the Aurors may have told you, most of them are not evil. Just different. Misfits. I could have told them which were which, if they had bothered to ask."

That point had indeed bothered her, when she had been told - much later - that he had been denied access to his House, before he'd left. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "Yes. I know. I will take good care of your children, Severus, all of them."

He placed his hand on hers a moment then removed it. "If you have any trouble with Alexander, if there is any need, please don't hesitate to contact me. I will not come down; Freya Hillswick will."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose high. "Poppy's friend Freya? She was here recently. Poppy gave her the grand tour."

Snape smiled again, stunning her as much the second time as it had the first. "Frankly I'm not surprised at anything Freya does." He stepped back from her. "Thank you for coming, Headmistress."

There was a sound from behind her. She checked to see that they were still alone and when she turned back, she was truly alone.

Part Three

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