Part Seven

Severus flew in from the west, over the open sea.

He tried to keep any thoughts other than the route he needed to follow out of his mind otherwise he thought he might give Moastifer exactly what he wanted: a man driven insane with worry.

He knew he was to blame for the situation. If only he'd accepted that a normal life was not to be his. He should have sent Alexander back with Inga that day, back to Freya and a safe existence away from the man who was cursed. Now all he could do was whatever it took to get his son and his friend back where they belonged, alive and hopefully well.

With the first letter, he had deliberately entered the mind-set that he had needed whenever Voldemort had summoned him. The body he inhabited was not his. Not truly. It was only a shell he used to enable him to enter Voldemort's presence, gather the information Dumbledore so badly needed, then hope that the shell was not too badly battered for him to make it back to the security of his dungeon chambers.

He knew that Eirik had been upset by his behaviour, but he'd needed to focus on himself, on mentally preparing for whatever was ahead. He'd never known what mood he'd find Voldemort in and whether he would have enough skin on his back to actually make it back out again. It was no different now. And, besides, he had no experience in dealing with someone else's pain and fear in such times.

He had taken the chance of showing that protected self to Oddvar Brekke. He had needed to trust someone who had experience in stepping back and viewing a situation objectively. Both of them knew what it was like dealing with personalities who could react illogically without warning.

Now, he had to prepare himself to face Moastifer, and hopefully rescue Alexander and Rhodri.

He wouldn't allow himself to wonder as to their fate in Moastifer's hands. What was, was, and he - and they - would deal with it. After the boys were found.

The instructions indicated that he was to land on the small plateau no closer than 25 feet from a shepherd's hut that was nestled back and one side against an outcropping of rock riddled with crevices. The windowless hut seemed deserted, but then appearances were deceiving.

As he approached, he ran into an invisible barrier. He propped his broomstick against a shoulder and cautiously felt with his hands until he realized that Moastifer had set up a protective ward around the hut.

He stooped, placing his broomstick on the ground, and then, hands outstretched to show he was carrying nothing, he stood and waited.

Writing began appearing in the air in front of him.

`No magic can come through this point. Remove all your clothing.'

Severus quickly assessed the situation though he knew full well that he had no alternative. His hands went to the clasp on his robe and he slowly, carefully, took it off, folded it and placed it on the ground. One by one, the rest of his garments followed. With clear gestures, he lay his wand down on top of the small pile.

Naked, hands outstretched again, he waited in the silence.

The door of the hut opened and a hooded figure stepped into its shadows. A wand was waved and part of the ward in front of him rippled. Severus took a deep breath and stepped through, wincing at the sting as the ward protested his passing. As he approached, the hooded figure disappeared back into the hut but the door remained opened, opened until he stepped over the threshold when it closed sharply behind him.

The room, for that was all it was, was dark though Severus thought he could make out two lighter areas against the back wall.

"I have to admit that you have truly surprised me, Snape."

The voice came from behind him. As Severus went to turn, it snarled, "No, don't. Remain as you are."

Severus kept his breathing calm only through a force of will-power. He wanted to attack the man behind him. He'd recognized Moastifer's voice and kept his own lightly curious. "And how is it that I have surprised you?"

"A werewolf. You're putting your life into my hands for a bloody werewolf," he mocked. "For something not worth the air it breathes."

"I shall have to disagree with you, Moastifer."

The mocking slipped into a sneer. "I'm certain you must. You bedded a werewolf bitch, mixed your pure blood with hers to produce this freak of nature."

Severus noticed movement along the back wall and tried to discern its source. He kept his voice as calm as possible. "My son is not a freak."

"They're all freaks," Moastifer spat out. "Creatures not human. Fit only for hunting. Do you know that my family used to hunt them for sport? Not politically acceptable any more even if that's all they're really good for. Not a reason for keeping them alive. You allow them into decent company," his voice rose, "and they transmit their foulness to wizards and witches who spend the rest of their lives in hell. I'm certain that your friend, Remus Lupin, would agree."

Severus shivered at the shrieking tones which held more than a tinge of insanity. So there was more to this than Moastifer's need to revenge his brother's death.

"Where is my son?"

"Your son? Oh, yes, the reason you've walked into my little trap."

Moastifer stepped out to one side and, with a wave of his wand,"Sphaera Luxae!" a small sphere of light appeared, casting all shadows aside.

Severus blinked as his eyes grew accustomed to the sudden light. Then he sighed in relief. In the far corner, naked but seemingly unharmed, were the two boys.

Rhodri was bound and gagged, propped up against the side wall while, about five feet away, Alexander knelt, the thick collar around his throat chained to the wall behind him, keeping him away from Rhodri. He was gagged but not bound. Both boys eyed him with teary relief.

Severus took a step towards his son only to be brought up short by Moastifer's pointing his wand at him. "I didn't say that you could move, Snape."

Severus stilled though he turned to face the hooded man. "Let them go. You have me. That's what you've wanted all along. You don't need them anymore."

Moastifer pulled back his hood with his free hand. In the light, the reddened skin on his face, the hairlessness of his head - even his eyebrows were gone - made Severus wince. From the way the burns covered his face, it was obvious that Moastifer must have thrown up his hands to protect his eyes as they and his nose were not burned.

"Oh," said Moastifer, in a sweet tone, "but I do." Another wave of his wand and the gag fell off Alexander.

"Papa!"

Severus noted his son's voice was hoarse as though it hadn't been used for some time. He clenched his fists but he kept his own voice as calm as possible. "Alexander. It'll be all right."

"No!" Alexander was trying to get to his feet. The chain was not long enough to allow that. It was obvious that he was trying hard to hold back his fear. "Not if you stay here. He wants to kill you."

"And with good reason." Moastifer once more sounded very calm and sane, but Severus could see his eyes and he knew that was an illusion. "I have explained to the ... the..."

"Boy."

Moastifer made a negligent gesture with his hand as though the word was of no importance, "Whatever. I have explained all about your career as a Death Eater. As the maker of death potions for He-Who-Must-Not-BeNamed. About how you experimented on Muggles, unimportant though they are." His voice hardened suddenly. "How you betrayed your own kind and used those same potions on fellow wizards. How you are responsible for the slow and agonizing death of my brother."

"Not true!" Alex screamed. "Those stories aren't true!"

"Yes, they are," snarled Moastifer. "Ask him!" he spat. "Ask him to swear on your head that what I told you were lies! Do it! Do it!"

Rhodri make a small choking sound from behind his gag and shook his head as though trying to get Severus to remain silent.

Pain slashed through Severus. Was this when his son would learn to hate him? But Moastifer's unreasoning rage meant that he had to give him what he wanted, if only to calm him down. And besides, Alexander needed to know the truth.

"Alexander. I don't know what he's told you, but this is true. I was a Death Eater. You know that. I did work for Voldemort. You know that, too."

"To help us win!" Alexander yelled at Moastifer, who ignored him, watching Severus with a delighted smirk on his face.

"Yes. But not immediately. Alexander, I did develop potions that were used to kill. I knew that they were being used on Muggles. Like Moastifer here, I too once believed that Muggles were unimportant. On all that he is quite correct."

Alexander's disappointed face wounded Severus, but he kept on. Maybe if Moastifer had his pound of flesh, he would be happy with that and allow the boys to go. He wouldn't care how Alexander felt about him as long as he was alive to do so.

Rhodri's eyes were open wide, shifting from Alexander to Severus and back to Moastifer. Severus wondered what horror stories the Auror had told the boys while waiting for his arrival. Not that he would have needed to exaggerate a great deal: the reality was horrible enough.

"I will not lie to you, Alexander. But I will say that I didn't know that Voldemort was using my creations on wizards and witches, and that once I found out, I was revolted. Then I finally understood that using them on Muggles was not much better. Even animals should be allowed to die a natural death, not have death forced upon them in the form of an experiment."

"Oh, spare me!" Moastifer scoffed, rolling his eyes. "A natural death! The only way of ridding our world of inferior Mudbloods is to wipe out the Muggles. He-Who ...

"Voldemort," interjected Severus, having seen that the Auror disliked hearing him use the Dark Lord's name. He wanted to direct the man's rage away from Alexander and onto him.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," snarled Moastifer, "had the right idea on that subject. Mingling our blood with Muggles is as profane as mixing it with werewolf blood. If wizards are to hold their rightful place in this world, vermin such as Mudbloods and Werewolves must be eliminated. Even if they do have their uses." And he rubbed his rocking groin obscenely with his free hand.

"Let the boys go. I won't fight you. You can have whatever revenge you wish to serve on me."

Moastifer snickered. "You can't fight me. You have nothing to defend yourself with. Nothing," his voice warned Severus, "to defend yourself against the son who will kill you."

Rhodri's muffled gasp was audible in the sudden silence.

Alexander was stunned. "No. No." His face and voice revealed his shock at the thought. "No, I won't. I won't kill my father. You can't make me," he snarled.

Moastifer's grin raised the hair on Severus's arms. "You won't have much choice. In the next few minutes, you will change into your true self. Into a werewolf. And your dear papa will be nothing more to you than a hated human, a human you will destroy." He turned from the horrified boy to the man. "The rising of the full moon was once used against me to your benefit, Snape. Now it will serve me."

"NO!" Alexander screamed in anguish. "PAPA!" He began tugging at the chain, trying to get it to release from the wall. "I won't!"

"I so love being able to contradict you, but yes, you will." Moastifer laughed. "You haven't had your Wolfsbane, now have you? Not going to retain any of your so-called humanity. All you'll know is that there are some humans in here with you and that you have to destroy them."

Alexander began sobbing, "Papa..." and Severus knew that nothing he had endured under Voldemort's hands had ever hurt him this much. He found the love in his heart to smile at his son, to speak soothingly to him.

"It's all right, Alexander."

"Papa!"

"Alexander, listen to me. We don't have much time. I love you. No matter what, I will always love you."

Moastifer made a gagging noise but Severus ignored him for his son. "You have brought me such pleasure and hope. No matter what you do to me, it's not important. And if you feel the need for it, you have my forgiveness. And my love. You will always have my love."

He tried one more time to get through to the man watching them with evil delight. "Moastifer, let Rhodri go. You have no need of him."

"Ah, but I do. You see, he's part of our...oops! Part of my plan. I intend to make it known that the werewolf - a student," he mocked disapprovingly, "at Hogwarts, of all places - has killed his father and his best friend. People will be outraged. As so many were," he growled, "when we were not able to incarcerate all those associated with the Dark Forces.

"They will demand retribution. They will rise up. The Ministry will have no other recourse. The school will have to cleansed of all vermin. Mudbloods will be cast aside. Werewolves will be hunted down in response to this profane act. And we will finally be able to return the beasts which survive - should any do - to the dark caves where they belong. Not," he spat, saliva dripping from his lips, splattering the air about his mouth, "in villages, siding with the enemy. Nor in high office. Oddvar Brekke will remember my name. It'll be on his lips when he too dies."

A shout of pain got all their attentions. The Change had begun.

Severus stood watching, silently saying goodbye to his son. A sound from Rhodri caught his attention. The boy's eyes were terrified. This too was his fault. Severus wanted to say something to comfort the boy but couldn't think of anything.

The wolf lay panting on the ground. Severus absently noted that the wolf had grown since the first time he had witnessed his Change. Slowly, he staggered to his feet, shaking his head as though trying to understand where he was. He sniffed and stiffened, looking around the room, spying the humans. His lips curled back, revealing long sharp wolf teeth. A rough sound began in the back of his throat and made its way out in an even rougher growl. As the growl grew louder, drool began gathering at the corners of his mouth.

Moastifer gave a sigh of pleasure. "Yes. Yes, indeed."

The wolf heard him and began straining at the chain, finally rising up on hind legs in his attempt to get to the humans.

Moastifer grinned and pointed with his wand. "I sense it's not quite ready. Needs to be riled up a little more. Crucio!"

Severus screamed "NO!" as the wolf dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. "No."

In his anger, he went for Moastifer who, with a grin, was ready for him. "Crucio!" And Severus dropped to the ground, screaming as the pain filled his body.

Then, as the wolf seemed to be recovering, Moastifer hit him with yet another "Crucio!"

As Severus tried to stand up, his body trembling from the attack, Moastifer hit him with Crucio again.

When the wolf finally found his feet, he was beyond rage. Snarling and snapping, teeth bared, drooling, eyes reddened from pain, he flew at the man who was struggling to his hands and knees in front of him. The chain prevented him from attaining his goal.

Laughing madly, Moastifer hit Severus with another Crucio then, while the man was on the ground gasping through the aftermath, the Auror slowly began to levitate. With another burst of insane laughter and a wave of his wand, he released the collar and the wolf sprang.

But not at Severus. Instead, the wolf turned sharply and leapt, grabbing Moastifer's leg as he rose.

Moastifer screamed, kicking out with his free foot, but the wolf hung on, and his weight began dragging the Auror down.

Moastifer shouted "Crucio!" but all the pain did was make the wolf bite tighter, deeper. As the pain subsided, the wolf began shaking his head, as though trying to separate the leg from the rest of the body, mangling the leg further. Screaming with pain and rage, Moastifer tried the Crucio again, but his aim was off. "Not me!" he kept on screaming. "Him! You have to kill him!" But the wolf refused to let go.

Severus managed to get to his feet. Fighting the residual pain, panting heavily, he grabbed Rhodri by his bound arms and dragged him across the floor of the hut to the door, all the time keeping an eye on the wolf. Opening it, he shoved Rhodri out. "Roll! Find cover. In the rocks." And he slammed the door shut, using his weight to keep it closed. The wolf would have to deal with him before it would be able to get out. And the door opened inwards. Together those should buy Rhodri enough time to roll into one of the larger crevices in the rock and find shelter, should Alexander manage to get out.

In his pain and insanity, in his desire to have the son kill the father, Moastifer seemed to have forgotten all spells. Now on the ground, he was hitting the wolf with his wand, kicking with his free foot, all the while screaming. He hit too hard with his wand and it went flying out of his hand. Severus dove for it, hoping he would be able to use it.

As he picked it up, ready to cast a stun spell on the wolf, the door of the hut crashed open, and four of the largest werewolves Severus had ever seen charged in. They quickly encircled the wolf and the man screaming. Though several of them butted Alexander with their heads, trying to get him to release his prisoner, he wouldn't.

Severus staggered to his feet. The smell of fear and blood was overwhelming in the hut. He knew that for his own safety, he had to get out. The Wolfsbane Potion had its effects but it had never been tested under such conditions. Bloodlust was not something he had been able to replicate in his lab. He had made his way to the open door as the tone of the other wolves' howls changed and Moastifer's screams rose in pitch and terror.

Eirik caught him as he stumbled out of the hut. When they stopped and he dropped to the ground, he saw that Rhodri was off to the other side, unbound, in Finnbogi's arms. He blinked, not certain he was seeing correctly. Luc, Harry and three others had their wands pointed at the door.

"If a wolf comes out, stun him," ordered a wizard who seemed to be in charge. "Kill if it's a man."

The Head of Security came out of the hut. In the yard where they had landed, four long shapes lay unconscious. With a quick once-over, the wizard assured himself the werewolves were still all stunned. Over to one side, Snape was sitting, his wolf-son's head on his lap, crooning lowly while stroking the boy's fur. His muzzle was matted with blood, as were those of the other wolves.

"Not much recognizable," he indicated the hut with his head.

Finnbogi shrugged. "Couldn't be helped, I suppose."

"Let's hope the Brits see it that way."

Eirik was wrapping his robe around Rhodri who was quietly weeping in Luc's arms. He looked up. "Why wouldn't they?"

Finnbogi and the Head exchanged looks. "There are a lot of the old prejudices alive in Britain," explained Finnbogi. "Voldemort wasn't working in a vacuum, you know. And on the whole the wizards and witches here are far more conservative about ideas that have long held sway in some of the more modernized Ministries of Magic. And some of them are highly placed.

"I don't envy Dumbledore his position. Mind you, he did move Hogwarts into Modern Times, against much resistence. Now he wants to do the same to an entire country, a country that, by its own nature, is divided into factions."

"I don't care about a country," snarled Eirik. "I care about my people. How the bloody hell could they not see it the way it is? Alexander and Rhodri are kidnapped. Alexander is tortured as is his father. Of course he's going to defend himself and his father."

Finnbogi nodded, not wanting to continue this discussion. The professor needed care as did the boys. Rhodri needed to be examined by a medic and then questioned. And he had five unconscious werewolves to get back to the Village.

Fortunately, the women of the Village were equipped to handle situations such as this one. Finnbogi concentrated hard and sent a previously agreed upon mental image back to Elder Hillswick's wife.

Later, he sat on the ground and massaged his temples as such "communication" gave him a ferocious headache, which is why he rarely used his particular talent. As he rubbed, he noticed that Eirik had brought the professor his clothing and had helped him dress. Snape wanted some water, not to drink, but to dip his handkerchief into and wash the blood off his son's face, paws and chest. The Head had a word with his two men and they did the same with the other wolves, though with spells.

Finnbogi had to admit that he had been quite unprepared for the sight of the wolves as, one by one, they had emerged from the hut. It had been obvious that the Wolfsbane's power had waned if not altogether ceased. The wolves were bloody, red-eyed, wild, ready to attack. He'd held on to Rhodri as tightly as the lad had held onto him. He wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he had been terrified. One by one, the wolves had been stunned. He decided that their headaches come moon set would probably be equal to the one with which he was now dealing.

Those casting the spells had waited long after the fifth wolf had exited before the Head had carefully made his way to the hut, wand at the ready. He had stood motionless in the doorway, looking in, for several tense breaths, until his hand had dropped and he'd moved quickly to vomit into the sun-dried bracken.

The Head hadn't allowed anyone near the hut and had been the only one to enter it, to verify that whatever was in it had once indeed been the Auror Moastifer.

"Sevvie..."

Finnbogi watched as the professor made his way over and knelt next to the woman and the boy in her arms. Rhodri lifted his tear-streaked face from her shoulder and turned, almost throwing himself into Snape's arms. The professor held him tightly, murmuring. After long minutes, the boy looked up. "Alexander," he sniffed, "said you'd come for us. He kept telling me over and over that you'd find a way to save us."

Snape smoothed the boy's fear-soaked, tangled hair off his face. "I think it's safe to say that Alexander is the one who found the way to save both of us."

Finnbogi was amazed to hear the boy laugh. Not well, but certainly bravely. "I won't be able to tease him anymore. About how I was the one who led everyone to the Circle of Stones and saved his skin." The boy rubbed his eyes with his fisted hands, smudging tears, dust and dirt. He managed a smile. "Now he's the one who's saved my skin."

The woman adjusted Eirik's robe about the boy's shoulders. "With those war stories in your repertoires, you two will have to fight the girls off."

And though his laugh was heavy with tears, Rhodri turned back to her. "So, you think they would work with you?"

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Luciana Fortunata, one of the toughest women Finnbogi had ever had to deal with, pulled the boy into her arms and kissed him gently on the mouth. "Only if you want to take on the National Team Seeker.'

Harry Potter knew a cue when he heard one. "Beater against Seeker? Not a chance!"

Rhodri rested his head on Luc's shoulder and sighed, "I guess not then."

She didn't stop her tears. "I guess not." And she buried her face in his stinking hair.

The Emergency Team of the Village arrived not long after. Finnbogi assumed that they'd already been on the way when he'd sent his message. The women were especially trained to deal with injured werewolves, whether in wolf or human form. Fourteen women arrived, each on a broomstick, paired, with a hammock-like apparatus between their broomsticks. Apparating with an injured or stunned werewolf was a tricky matter as no one knew if the wolf would suddenly wake while in apparation and upset the balance so necessary for successful transfer. Unblending a combined entity was not particularly easy and often unsuccessful.

The five werewolves were quickly transferred to the hammocks and with skillful experience the women took off, transporting the unconscious beasts back to the Village.

Two of the other women had even more specialized training. They entered the hut and efficiently yet quickly gathered the remains of the Auror Haney Moastifer into a sack and sewed it closed. Once in the Village, the sack and its remains would be immediately cremated, the ashes available for family, should they want them.

The Head wanted everyone to stay together so Rhodri was given a light sleeping potion and travelled between the final pair. Luc and Harry followed Rhodri while Eirik, riding very close to Snape, flew behind Alexander.

Before leaving, Finnbogi and the Head of Security cast a series of spells on the site that eliminated all traces of the events which had occurred there.

Near Hillswick the flyers separated. Those with the Village werewolves headed for the Council House where they would recover before going to their homes. The women with the remains headed for the small crematorium, to prepare for the Ceremony of Farewell. The others flew in silence to the house where Oddvar, Freya and the rest of the President's people stood outside on the lit up patio waiting for them to land.

Before Severus could get to Alexander, at Oddvar's signal, one of his Security detail, a large, burly man, picked up the wolf. Severus hurried to his side, hand on the boy's body as if to reassure himself. "My room. Please, put him in my room."

Oddvar caught the flash of surprise, followed immediately by one of pain, on Eirik's face, though his son said nothing.

Another member of Security picked up Rhodri and carried him upstairs to Alexander's room. Luc and Freya held a quick conference on their way up, Freya to check on Alexander then, once she'd seen for herself that the wolf was only asleep, she would join Luc with Rhodri.

Oddvar thanked the women of the Village and assured them that he would personally be involved in whatever investigation would occur. He knew the delicacy of the situation: Werewolves were executed for killing NonWerewolves.

As Oddvar had been talking to the women, he'd noticed that Harry had placed his hand on Eirik's shoulder. Together they went into the library. Finnbogi followed, as did the other three who had been on this mission.

Oddvar shut the library door behind him and noted that Orm and Ketil had set up food and drinks for the men. He didn't doubt that there would be the same in both bedrooms and at their doors where the two men who had carried the boys were now stationed.

Oddvar poured everyone a large dose of cognac, waved the tray around the room, and then took the armchair that Severus usually sat in. As each of the men took a glass, Oddvar examined them with a knowing eye. The Security people looked tired: this had not been their usual kind of operation.

Finnbogi was rubbing his head, looking more drawn than any explosive negotiating session ever affected him. Oddvar reminded himself that the man was nearly as old as he was. He would insist that Finnbogi take time off. Though Finnbogi had worked with him for over fifty years, this was his first personal experience with werewolves at their worst.

Harry Potter, though pale, was calm. In his life, the boy had seen worse, thought Oddvar. About twenty, if he remembered well, and already far too experienced with the dark side of life. Older than his years. No wonder he wanted to do nothing more serious these days than play Quidditch. Still, he was worth keeping an eye on: such maturity had its place.

Eirik was staring into his glass, lost. That "my" from Severus had wounded. Oddvar doubted that Severus had even been aware that he'd used that word. His attention had been solely focused on Alexander. Which, thought Oddvar, was as it should be. But could Eirik understand that?

"All right," he said aloud. "What happened?"

The Head of Security placed his drink on his lap. "It is my belief that Moastifer never thought that anyone would recognize the location that he'd picked. And I'm certain he thought Professor Snape would truly come alone.

"Elder Hillswick led us in from the east. We actually got there several minutes before the professor arrived. Moastifer had chosen his site well. The hut had no windows, only a door. And he had warded the area about it. He was careful not to offer himself as a target when he released a portion to allow the professor in. After he'd stripped all his clothes off. From that, we assumed the ward was against magic.

"We didn't know what went on once the professor went inside the hut: the door was closed. But Master Finnbogi went around the perimeter of the ward very carefully and finally found a weak spot which he could work with. Unfortunately, it was slow going and the Change took place before he had sufficiently opened the area so that we could all slip in.

"By the way, we really must commend Bera Hillswick for her foresight in insisting the men all have their taken their Wolfsbane before we left."

Oddvar nodded. He would see to it.

"Well, as we were slipping in, the door opened and the boy Rhodri was shoved out. He was bound hand and foot and gagged. We could hear screaming and growls from inside the hut; we heard the professor yell `Roll, find cover, in the rocks,' and then the door shut, with him inside."

"Inside? You mean to tell me that Severus went back in? With Alexander in wolf form?"

The Head nodded then, when Oddvar didn't add to that, he continued, "The boy hadn't noticed us. He began rolling towards the rocks and Master Finnbogi went after him."

Finnbogi looked up. "He was terrified but he kept his head. He looked up as he rolled and was heading towards a crevice in the rocks that was deep enough to offer some protection. He screamed when I grabbed him. I never realized that he hadn't heard us." He shook his head sadly. "I freed him. I had to use a spell."

"As soon as he could be understood," took up the Head, "Rhodri told us what was going on in the hut. How Moastifer wanted Alexander to kill both of them so that their deaths could be used as an excuse to begin a purge of `Mudbloods and Werewolves', how Moastifer had tortured both Snape and the wolf with Crucio. The wolves heard and charged. The door opened inward and easily. I followed them as far as the door. Snape was to one side, on his knees, a wand in his hand. Not his, as his was with his clothes. And not that of the boys. Seems Moastifer had burnt those along with their broomsticks and clothing."

Harry spoke up. "Rhodri is really upset about the broomstick. A Firebolt. It was a gift from his grandparents last fall when he became a Slytherin Beater.'

Oddvar nodded. Dragon reservists didn't make a great deal of money. It was done mainly out of a love and fascination for the creatures. "I'll see to it that the gift is remade."

Harry smiled.

"As I was saying," continued the Head, "the professor had a wand in his hand but it was obvious that the wolves were beginning to be affected by the scene. He made his way to the door and Master Brekke stepped in front of me to grab him."

Oddvar looked at his son who said nothing. He was still staring into the glass in his hand.

"Master Brekke got the professor away from the door, and I concluded that entering the hut would be unwise. I joined the others, ready to deal with whatever came out. We stunned the five wolves as they emerged, but no one else did."

There was silence for a moment while several of those in the room finished their drinks.

"Was Rhodri able to tell you anything else?"

The Head nodded. "He was almost hysterical at first, but he took himself in hand before we had to do something about that. Master Finnbogi held him until we had dealt with the werewolves." He looked over to Harry. "Your lady is very quick with a spell, Master Potter."

Harry grinned as he agreed.

Finnbogi interjected. "She'd warned me that if she had a chance at Moastifer she would be very pleased to kill him."

"Luc," said Harry, "is very passionate about certain things."

Eirik finally looked up and joined the group. "Yes. Yes, she is."

Oddvar caught his son's eye and smiled to him. Eirik sighed and gave a little nod back, though his attempt at a smile was mostly sad. It had been a trying time for them all, Oddvar thought, though Eirik was new at this supporting role. Would it prove to be too much for him?

"Once we'd dealt with the wolves, Madam Fortunata took charge of the boy and managed to get him to tell us what had happened. As the Village lad had reported, they were flying when they hit a protection ward. They only remembered a flash of light and then nothing until they both woke in the hut, naked and bound. Moastifer only gagged them earlier today. He fed them a couple of times and he told them all kinds of stories about Death Eaters and about the poisons the professor developed. Rhodri seemed to think that Alexander's refusal to believe him only encouraged him. Seems Rhodri's grandfather had told him a little about the professor's past. He'd been one of the wizards who had attended the trials."

The Head thought a moment then said, "The boys were quite brave. They kept their heads. Rhodri said that they hadn't cried though you wouldn't have been able to blame them if they had. He said he couldn't understand why he couldn't stop now that they'd been found."

There was a soft knock on the door and then it opened without Oddvar having time to call out "Enter."

Luc closed the door behind her. She smiled at them. "Freya has looked them all over. Alexander will have a headache from the stunning and, apart from that, there were only some abrasions around his neck from his pulling at the collar. Freya says that she'll deal with those once he's back in human form. For the moment, she's put some ointment on them.

"Rhodri will be fine as well. There were some scraps and scratches on him, but from being handled, probably when Sevvie dragged him out." She sat down next to Harry who immediately put his arm about her. Oddvar noticed that she leaned into him before straightening. Harry left his arm where it was. "She thinks a couple of solid meals will help both of them. And once Rhodri's grandparents get here, he'll probably be even better. Has anyone heard from them?"

Oddvar shook his head. "According to Freya, their last letter indicated that they were heading deep into the Romanian Reserve, to deal with an injured dragon. They'll probably return to camp and find all Severus's and Freya's letters waiting for them. I sent a special one when word got back that the boys had been found."

Luc nodded. She leaned over to address Eirik. "Sevvie seems to be suffering some aftershocks of the Crucio. Freya thinks that's because he's endured it so many times that his body can't throw off the effects quite so easily."

Eirik nodded but didn't move. It was obvious that she had expected him to. She looked at Harry who shrugged and pulled her nearer.

"Did Madam Freya indicate when the boy Rhodri might wake? Though he told us what had happened, we will need a more thorough report from him."

Luc looked as though she was going to argue with the Head but then sighed. "Freya thinks he should wake in the morning. Give her time to look him over again, and for him to get something into him, more than the broth she's fed him. You'll be careful with him, won't you? He's trying very hard to handle this like a man, but he's still a boy, in spite of his size."

The Head smiled at her protective tone. "I have a son his age and bigger yet. A child in a man's body. I'll take care with him, Madam, I promise."

Oddvar stood up. "I'm afraid that I have to be going. There's an official side to this that I need to deal with immediately." He looked around the room. The Head and his men were already on their feet, ready to escort him. They were used to long nights in his service. Oddvar smiled at Finnbogi who was struggling to his feet. "No, Finnbogi. I need you to stay here. You will need to greet the Ddus on my behalf and brief them on the situation. Consider them cleared for anything you think should be classified. And no one is officially to question the boys until I and my associates have returned.

"Harry, Luc." He shook Harry's hand. "Thank you. Harry, I know that you need to return to your team as soon as possible and I am moved, on behalf of my family, that you felt you needed to be here. Luc, if I could ask you to remain until I get back." As he hugged her, he whispered into her ear, "Eirik may need someone."

"Certainly," and she smiled at him. "I'm certain Freya will appreciate having another woman around."

The wizard in Minister Dumbledore's office was less surprised than he once would have been when he was told that the President of the International Federation of Warlocks and his men had apparated in the Ministry's lobby. It may have been past midnight, but the Personal Assistant to the Minister for Magic well knew that Government had no set hours. Especially not in this office since Cornelius Fudge had retired.

He held the door open for the President and his security people as they were ushered in by the Ministry's security representative.

President Brekke greeted him courteously. "If you would ask the Minister for some of his time, I have news that he will want to hear."

"Yes, of course, Mr. President. If you would care to wait." And he gave a soft knock on the ornate door before he opened it and slipped into the office. He was out in less than a minute. "Minister Dumbledore will see you now, Mr. President." And he opened the door.

Dumbledore was standing behind a large desk, a neat pile of documents in front of him. He stayed where he was, only nodding to Brekke as he entered. "Mr. President. I assume by your presence that the news you bring is not good.'

Brekke bent his head slightly in greeting. Without being asked, he took the chair directly in front of Dumbledore. "I'm afraid not, Minister," he said as he sat down. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the familiarity. Usually, one waited to be asked to sit in the Minister's presence. Though his was not technically a higher rank, Brekke was aware that it had been Dumbledore's prerogative to request his being seated - or not - as they were in his office and not Brekke's.

But this was not going to be a friendly visit. Brekke had had enough and it was time that certain matters be made very clear.

Dumbledore hesitated long enough to reseat himself to make Brekke very aware that the man felt slighted.

"I'm afraid that I must inform you of the death of the Auror known as Moastifer."

"I see." Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "I shall see to it that the Department of Aurors retrieves his body.'

"His ashes."

Dumbledore's eyebrow rose high.

"Yes, unfortunately he met his end at the hands, if I might use that term, of werewolves. As you know, all such sad endings mean cremation. It is a safety precaution as required by International Law, dealing with Werewolves and those bitten by them."

"Yes, so that no one can use the blood of werewolves for any nefarious reason." Dumbledore sat back in his chair. "Of course, this means that there will have to be an investigation, even according to International Law."

"Of course."

"May I inquire as the occasion of Moastifer's death?"

Brekke sat back and crossed a leg over his knee, indicating that he was settling in. He quickly and efficiently brought Dumbledore up to date. He and his Head had discussed the case and its ramifications on their way over from Hillswick.

Dumbledore sat very still during Brekke's recitation. Brekke smiled to himself. A worthy opponent, he thought. This was going to require some delicate yet certain handling.

"Yes, I see. I am pleased to hear that the Ddu boy is unharmed. You know, of course, that all those involved will have to be questioned, probably Interrogated. I have no doubt that Cranston will demand the right to do so."

Brekke nodded. "Of course. And then maybe Cranston should take a good look at whom he promotes to levels such as Section Chief. Moastifer has a long history of incompetence behind him. Such a wizard should never have been allowed into the ranks of Aurors, let alone promoted. Not a good thing for the reputation of his Department."

Dumbledore shrugged. "All that is beyond my influence. The Department of Aurors is an entity onto itself."

Brekke merely cocked his head. The reality, as both men well knew, was that if the Minister for Magic indicated he wanted a review of the promotion practices of the Department of Aurors, it would be done.

"Still," said Brekke, "it might be a good thing for the Department to be seen to be investigating what appears to be a impolitic line of prejudice against werewolves and mixed bloods in general among its ranks. While I sympathize with Cranston's fear of another Voldemort arising, his persecution of so-called Mudbloods and others he feels are inferior will not much help your governing."

There was no reaction of surprise nor protest from Dumbledore: he was well aware of Cranston's position. Brekke shrugged mentally: it was not a simple procedure getting rid of high-ranking Heads who did not care to toe the official line.

"Whether he likes it or not, we live in a world where the purity of blood is less and less of a factor. If it were not, the wizardry world of Britain itself would have diminished over these past centuries to a clan no larger than that of its werewolves. Might even have disappeared completely. I think, on that point, we are both in agreement, Minister. Otherwise you would not have admitted the number of mixed bloods that Hogwarts counts among its many graduates. A decision that has proved very beneficial for the British wizardry world."

Brekke sighed. "It is a pity that some still support the old line of reasoning. Prejudices have cost this country much."

"Yes, they have," agreed Dumbledore. "Though I'm certain that Moastifer would have offered in his defense that he and his family have suffered greatly. How can we be certain that a sense of vengeance, even justice, and not prejudice, is what motivated him?

"You're, of course, referring to Professor Snape and his experiments for Voldemort. A sad time, that. So many lives destroyed and ruined. And yes, it's far too easy for unguided young people to make foolish mistakes. Unfortunately, your Aurors, when they presented themselves for the questioning of Alexander Hillswick, made several...shall we say indiscreet comments in public. These have led the people of the Hillswick Clan to doubt their impartiality into any investigation concerning any of them."

"You may reassure the innocent members of the Clan that they will not be pursued in this matter. Though all concerned in the attack on the Auror Moastifer will have to face justice." Dumbledore made to get up, indicating that he thought the meeting was now at an end.

Brekke didn't move. Dumbledore frowned, a small indication of his displeasure.

"Ah, but will it be justice? Under any legal system, a person has the right to defend himself when attacked. Your Auror kidnapped two innocent boys. One of whom he had in fact, only the previous year, cleared of all and any complicity in the charge of association with the Dark Forces. He tortured that boy with Crucio as he did the boy's father. As for his sense of justice needing reparation, well, even the Department was more than satisfied with the Pronouncement of Banishment on the boy's father."

Dumbledore sat back down with a small grimace. "Yes, well, as to that, Professor Snape seems to have been very much in the public eye since that Pronouncement."

Brekke raised an eyebrow. "Oh, now then, I was present when Pronouncement was made. I don't remember any requirement that Professor Snape was to efface himself. In fact, I seem to remember that Under-Head MacBeth was very emphatic that should Snape be found anywhere in Britain but in the locale of Banishment, he would then be arrested and incarcerated in Azkaban. But there were no constraints placed on his ability to leave the area for other jurisdictions. Under the terms of Banishment, that has to be stipulated at the time of Pronouncement and it was not. I can have Finnbogi send you a copy of the transcript if that will satisfy any doubts you have."

Dumbledore waved that offer away. "He is travelling under IFOW documents."

Brekke smiled. "Of course he is. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent Potions investigator? Britain didn't seem to want the professor anymore, so, of course, I secured his services as soon as I could. Let us not fool ourselves, Minister: we both know the man is brilliant. You have had almost exclusive use of his services for some twenty years. Now it is someone else's turn. And I'm certain that, after my term, many others will be after his services as well."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, his voice was cold. "A slight oversight on our part. Snape should have remained committed to us. It was thought that a few years in isolation might make him understand that."

Brekke grew very still. "I see. And I eliminated that situation. Of course, now Snape will be willing to do anything, even return to you, if his son's life is placed in jeopardy."

Dumbledore's smile didn't reach his eyes.

Brekke smiled back in return. "And, of course, a threat to the Clan due to their involvement in this affair means a threat to the boy. You want him back at Hogwarts, I suppose, ready to do your bidding when you have need of his talents. I wonder if Snape will trust you to keep your end of the deal?"

"He will have to, won't he?"

Brekke rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and tented his hands. He put on his contemplative face. "You know, Minister, if I may say, by threatening Alexander's safety and that of his Clan, you don't seem to have grasped the delicacy of the matter."

"Really?" Dumbledore's voice was almost mocking. "Then I am certain you will clarify that for me."

"The Hillswick Clan is a small one. One of the few Clans to have survived in Britain over the centuries, mainly due to the area in which they settled. They've kept very much to themselves, in this world, going North to Lillehammer for their education, now remaining there on the whole for employment and marriage. The Village is growing smaller by the year. An almost insignificant Clan, we would both agree.

"Except for one important fact: Alexander Hillswick is my grandson. And through me, Alexander has links to fifteen other werewolf clans."

It pleased him when Dumbledore couldn't hide his surprise.

"Ah, you weren't aware of that fact, were you, Minister? Yes, international clans. Much larger and important clans. Many of which are influential in the world outside of Britain. Some of whose members have met the boy and who would take unkindly to the treatment to which he has been subjected. To the threat of Interrogation when all he and the others have done was defend humans from an Auror who was involved in plans to begin a persecution of their kind. A wizard even his Department acknowledged had serious mental health problems."

He rested his chin on the point of his joined hands. It was obvious that Dumbledore hadn't considered any of that. Brekke smiled to himself. He had been counting on the fact that Dumbledore's days were filled with the kind of irritating minutiae that new administrations felt they had to deal with personally, ignoring the reasons their predecessor had for delegating. A wizard such as Dumbledore would feel he needed to know every aspect of his Departments, especially considering he was following Cornelius Fudge, a wizard not renown for competence. Too much delegating was as bad as too little.

And besides, he had to admit that his ties through some of his wives to clans other than his own antecedents was not exactly common knowledge. He had long ago accepted his being drawn to women carrying a werewolf gene, faint though it may be, but it wasn't something he discussed publicly.

Dumbledore was a good poker player, Brekke thought: his expression had merely slipped into the contemplative.

Brekke continued. "Like all of us who have attained high office, you want to leave a legacy behind, do you not, Minister? It would do Britain good if yours was equivalent to the one you've left at Hogwarts. It should consist of all the great things you will most assuredly accomplish. And I believe you have no delusions as to the kind of dedication this office demands in order for Britain to gain the reputation it so richly deserves. I think that you've known that since you were a very young man who decided that this office would one day be his."

He allowed his voice to develop an edge.

"It would be a pity if all that was overshadowed by the legacy of having been the Minister for Magic during the Werewolf Wars. Because, do not doubt me, Minister, when I say that should the threat to the Hillswick Clan be known in certain circles, it would most certainly cause numerous problems for Britain, on many fronts. The number among us who Change has lessened over time, but those of us who do not still have strong bonds of blood with those who do. You would be surprised to learn the extent to which we werewolves move the world of wizardry."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Though he frowned, the Minister said nothing but Brekke could tell he was quickly reviewing as many aspects to this possibility as he could envisage.

"Yes," he added, knowing what Dumbledore's counter would be, "such a war would be devastating, but it would be so for both our peoples."

"War, Mr. President," drawled the Minister coldly. "Over such a...little thing?"

Brekke's smile was equally cold. "All I need do is refer you to the Goblin War of 1276. Caused by a goblin being accidentally shoved into a mud puddle by a wizard who was in a hurry to go...wherever it was. From words to insults to assault to war. It only took three days."

Dumbledore obviously knew how to balance a ledger: the death of one Auror, a death which in any court, including one in this country, would be judged self-defense versus the unknown economic, politic and even social costs of, if not outright war, at least confrontation. All to regain power over a Potions Master. He looked as though he were being made to swallow something foul, but he said, in a scathing, cold voice, "I shall see to it that our most sensitive Auror, who is sent to compile a report, fully understands the extenuating circumstances."

"And perhaps," Brekke added, offering compensation, "if I dare mention, it might be a good thing to classify that report to the highest level. I know I can speak on behalf of the Hillswick Clan that they too would consider that wise."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very wise, Mr. President." He began rising to his feet again. "I only hope that eventually prejudices such as those held against werewolves and mixed bloods can be overcome."

Brekke ignored the dismissal. "Oh, I think so. All it takes is a little effort. After all, I have overcome my personal prejudices in dealing with you."

Brekke had wondered how, if in any way, Dumbledore would react to the insult. He went very still and his eyelids dropped, covering all but a slit of very cold blue.

Brekke had a lecturing voice he used when he wanted to recap, in as unemotional a way as possible, the points of view of both sides when he was mediating. He used it now. At first Dumbledore stood very still, not moving, face frozen as he waited for Brekke to make his point.

"Ambition and family. I have been fortunate in that I have been able to combine the two. Like you, the office I serve is one that I decided, quite a few years ago, was the one I wanted. I successfully worked my way towards it until I won election five years ago. And all that in spite of what is known in many circles as Brekke's Coven. I fully admit to liking women but not being particularly successful in dealing with them on a personal level. I seem to understand larger needs better than specific ones. My loss, I am certain."

Dumbledore frowned, raising his hand as though to interrupt, but Brekke kept on talking.

"The end result of having had eight wives is a large family. I have twentytwo children, all of whom were born under my roof. They all know who their father is. Especially when they need money or support of some kind. I find them all very easy to love though I must admit that some of them have driven and still drive me crazy at times."

As he'd spoken, Dumbledore's eyes had grown dark.

"I have many grandchildren who again know me. As I know them.

"I know the cost of Ambition, Minister, and it can be high. But I find it hard to understand a man who is so much in its clutches that he was ready to deny his children and grandchildren for it."

Dumbledore made a move much like a shudder. Brekke thought he might say something - might try to deny his accusation - when his mouth opened, but he didn't. Dumbledore's face assumed a greyish tinge. Hands clasping the arms of his chair, the Minister slowly sat down. His eyes seemed to lose all colour as he stared at Brekke. He sat very straight in his chair, his hands gripped whitely on the desk in front of him.

"Finnbogi, as your Aurors must have reported, has no equal when he's researching. If he gets a whiff of something, he needs to track it down to the cause. He burrows through documents that no one else would be able to connect. He finds information that makes no sense until it is joined to other such pieces and then a picture appears.

"Let us look at such a picture."

Brekke allowed his voice to assume a neutral tone. His eyes held Dumbledore's the entire time he spoke.

"A young, ambitious wizard designs a plan of action to take him to the very top. He is steadfast in his pursuit of this goal; a good characteristic for the office he wishes to attain one day.

"But our wizard has a small flaw: he has a certain fondness for...well, why bother being polite. He has a fondness for pretty but vapid, even stupid witches who are not very educated. And who will not remember him once the next cock comes around."

Dumbledore's lips compressed into a tight line. And from then on, he barely seemed to be breathing as Brekke continued.

"Unfortunately for him, after years of precautions, one of them had the misfortune of conceiving. Fortunately, she was unable to trace him down when he disappeared after she informed him of the fact. Her family was not kind to her though they allowed her to remain after the birth of the child. A daughter, who grew up to be as pretty if not more vapid than her mother. The daughter in turn fell in love with a Muggle, of all people. And, following in her mother's footsteps, conceived a child by him.

"Unfortunately for the daughter, there exists a certain prejudice among some low-level families against Mudbloods. She found herself cast out of the family home, such as it was. Her lover was willing to fund her a small allowance and even celebrated the birth of the child, a son, until she let it slip that she was a witch. And suddenly she found that she was once more dealing with prejudice, this time against her kind, and yet again she was cast out.

"She managed to survive in the vicinity, always certain that her Muggle lover would one day return to her. Even as a very young child, her son was wiser than she, probably because he had inherited his grandfather's intelligence." Brekke shrugged, "One hears of such things skipping a generation.

"When the Muggle married a girl that his family approved of, even she had to understand that he would never return to her. And that knowledge killed her. The father, not knowing what to do with the boy, not wanting him around in case he had inherited his mother's witchcraft, confined him to a Muggle orphanage, where the boy's difference isolated him. Until he attained the age of eleven and he was called up by Hogwarts - by the then Headmaster - to learn about his true nature.

"Meanwhile, our ambitious wizard had learnt his lesson. He managed to avoid any other such...entanglements, being very careful not to impregnate any other of his little flaws until, some twenty-eight years after his first child was born, another was conceived.

"Once again the mother was a pretty thing. But this one had a better understanding about how the game was played. She was of a far better class for one thing - after all, our wizard was moving up through the world - married for another, and had already presented her husband with the required two sons. Neither adult was particularly interested in either each other or their children, preferring themselves over such concerns. For some reason, the woman decided to carry the child. A daughter. Again as pretty as the mother, which meant that the husband had no particular concerns that anyone would think the child was not his. I wouldn't be surprised if the woman found a way of making him think the girl was his.

"The woman was actually quite pleased with this child. A doll for her to dress up and play with. I believe she even called her Dolly, though that wasn't her real name. Dolly in turn grew to be even more self-concerned than her mother. Fortunately, she was married off to a man who loved his mirror as much as she loved hers. It was unfortunate that the child born to them, a boy, was so ugly. I understand that neither parent could bear to be in the same room as the boy, leaving him to the mercy of the servants. Until he too was called to Hogwarts."

Brekke pretended to be sympathetic. "You really can't blame them, can you? Even now Severus hasn't really grown into that nose or those ears of his."

There was no reaction at all from Dumbledore.

"Many think that Severus was drawn to the Dark Arts out of a sense of revenge against his parents, for their neglect of him. You and I both know that isn't so.

"Voldemort came by his talent for manipulation...honestly. He had his spies in the school..."

Dumbledore twitched. Ah, thought Brekke, his precious school: that was all that was important to him, even now.

"...and he knew who had the talent he needed. He took one look at the boy who was Severus Snape and he gave him what he hungered for. Not an opportunity for revenge, but recognition. Encouragement. It didn't cost him anything. Only a few words. `Good work, Severus. You actually created that potion? Incredible, Severus. I'm so proud of knowing someone with such abilities, Severus. I doubt there isn't a potion that you couldn't create, if you put your mind to it, Severus.'"

Brekke couldn't hold back his contempt for this man. "You know, Minister, I wonder, had Severus ever heard any words of encouragement from his grandfather, would he have been tempted over into the Dark Arts and into Voldemort's hands?"

Brekke stood up. He looked down at the wizard in the Minister for Magic's chair, like a judge passing judgement. "Well, not your concern any longer. Severus belongs to us now. Please have your Auror present his or her credentials to Finnbogi on arrival. Finnbogi will be representing the many Clans with an interest in this matter and will be reporting back to them. I'm certain that he will be most pleased to indicate that peaceful ties between the Hillswick Clan and the Ministry of Magic have been reestablished."

At the door, he paused and looked over to the wizard who was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. "It also gives one pause to wonder, does it not, Minister," this time his voice was only curious, "if Tom Riddle had gotten the attention he so badly needed from his grandfather, would there ever have been a Voldemort?"

Severus sat on the side of his bed, watching his wolf-son sleep. Freya had assured him that he would not be affected by the stunning. That, though he had suffered Crucio, he had done so in wolf form and would not remember it when he Changed. As he would not remember being one of five who had torn Moastifer apart.

"One of the blessings of being a werewolf," she'd said. "It might be different if he'd taken the Wolfsbane, but he hadn't. He won't remember anything about it. As for those who did, I doubt that their killing the Auror who had planned for their destruction will bother them greatly."

At some point in the night, Eirik had come into the room to get a change of clothing. He'd stopped by the bed and placed his hand on Severus's shoulder. Severus had shrugged it off. He was faintly aware that he had hurt Eirik by doing so, but right then he couldn't stand being touched. He hadn't wanted to deal with anything other than the son who lay in his bed. Not even Eirik's sympathy.

Eirik had taken his clothing and left without saying a word. Better that way.

Freya had come several hours later with some broth in a large mug for him. He hadn't wanted to drink it but she'd stood glaring at him, reminding him that the last thing his son needed was to wake and find his father fainting from hunger. He'd finally taken it when she'd assured him that she hadn't slipped anything into the broth. No sleeping potion, nothing else either: she'd already cast a nerve-calming spell on him to deal with the occasional tremblings which were his after-effects of Crucio. She understood his need to watch and wait Alexander's Change.

He had left the bed at one point. He'd removed the clothing he'd worn, used his wand to clean himself, and had carefully selected the clothing he'd then put on. He'd gone around the room, picking up a couple of items and placing them in his robe pockets.

Now all he had left to do was wait until Alexander Changed and woke up.

The sun had risen before the moon set and Alexander shuddered. Severus watched his son Change, wincing with each whimper and moan, until a boy, gangly with age, thin, still short of his full growth, lay in the bed.

The boy's hand rose to his face and he rubbed his eyes. He grimaced, probably from the headache that Freya had warned Severus about. He opened his eyes, shut them, then squinted to see where he was.

"Papa?" Said sleepily.

Severus found the strength to smile. "Yes, Alexander."

"Papa!" Said with eyes wide open. Said with a hint of terror.

"Yes, Alexander." He reached out and touched his son's cheek. "It's over, son. We're home. You're in my room."

And suddenly he had an armful of precious boy against him. Holding. Clinging. Crying softly against his shoulder. Saying over and over between sobs, "Papa...papa...papa."

Severus held on as tightly as he could, imprinting the feel of his child against him, into him. He rubbed his cheek against the hair that needed to be washed. He buried his nose in it and inhaled deeply, finally comprehending Eirik's need and delight in the scent of another. His hands caressed his son's back in soothing circles, memorizing the feel of skin and muscle over bone. His fingertips learnt each and every vertebrae, the boniness of his son's shoulders, the wiriness of the arms wrapped around his own neck.

"It's all right, Alexander. All is well. No one will ever threaten you again."

It took time for Alexander to calm. To allow Severus to hold his handkerchief to his nose so he could blow. To wipe his tears against Severus's shoulder. To sign with contentment. To ask, "Papa, Rhodri...?"

"He's fine. Luc and Freya are taking care of him."

"Papa, did I...bite...?"

"No one." Severus pulled back so that he could tilt his son's face up to him. "Rhodri was not bitten. I wasn't bitten. Moastifer is dead."

Alexander's face went very adult. "I killed him."

Severus shook his head. "No. What you did was delay long enough so that we could be rescued. Elder Hillswick and others arrived just in the nick of time. They came with Harry and Luc and...and Eirik. Even Finnbogi."

Alexander wasn't to be distracted. "Then we killed him. We werewolves killed him."

Severus wondered if this was going to be too much for the boy. But it was the truth and, sooner or later, someone would mention it to Alexander. Better it come from his father. "Yes. Yes, the five werewolves did kill him."

He waited for Alexander's reaction. It managed to surprise him.

"Good. He needed killing." Alexander looked into his eyes. "What he did, what he wanted to do, was evil."

"Yes, it was." And he kissed his son's forehead.

"And now he can't hurt anyone any more."

"No," said Severus, very calmly, "no, he can't." He stroked his son's cheek. "He's gone." Then he smiled at his son. "As I have to go."

Alexander didn't seem to understand. He frowned as he did when trying to work out a difficult problem. "Go? What... What are you talking about? Go? Go where?"

Severus reluctantly set his son away from him. He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked at him. His heart memorized the boy's features.

"Alexander, I have to go. I can't stay here with you anymore."

"But...what happened? Did I do something..."

You haven't done anything, son. You've been the innocent one in all this. I'm the one who bears the guilt and you're the one who's being made to pay."

"Papa, I don't understand what... What are you talking about?"

"Alexander. Three times your life has been in jeopardy because of me, because of what I did. No more."

"Papa..."

"Listen to me. Draco Malfoy kidnapped you and took you to Voldemort because of me. You were tortured because of me. You nearly died there because of me. Moastifer wanted you to submit to his Interrogation because of me. Because of me, he kidnapped you, he tormented you, he tortured you. Because of me! Me, Alexander. Me."

Alexander had begun shaking his head, saying "No, papa, no," louder and louder as though to drown out Severus's words. Severus grasped the boy's head between his two hands, "Yes, Alexander, yes."

Alexander reached for Severus, but he pulled back, beyond the boy's shorter reach, though he still held onto his son's head. Alexander's hands gripped Severus's arms. "No more. You had a normal life until I came into it. If I leave, you will have one again. No one will use you to get to me. You won't be put into danger. If they want me, they'll have to come find me themselves."

Alexander was shaking, beginning to cry hysterically. "Noooo!"

"I love you, Alexander, more than I ever thought possible to love someone. More than I thought I had it in me to love. But I will not be responsible for your death." Severus took a breath and began severing the ties to his child. "All that Moastifer told you was true. I did things for which I should have been sent to Azkaban. Where I should have died. Be thankful that you don't carry my name. Your association with me has already been too costly for you. This is the only way I can keep you safe."

Alexander began screaming, "NO! PAPA! NO!"

Severus extricated himself from his son's hands, stood up and stepped back quickly from the bed. He pulled his robe tightly around him. "I can't see any other way to protect you, Alexander. Goodbye, my son."

In the library, Eirik was sharing yet another mug of coffee with Finnbogi. He knew that the moon had set and that Severus would be with his humanized son. He heard some noise that made him look up to the ceiling. No one had cast the spell of silencing on their...on Severus's bedroom since before the boys had disappeared. He thought he heard crying. Then, he felt strangely uneasy. He looked over to Finnbogi who was staring tiredly into his mug.

The sounds from upstairs bothered him more and more.

"Finn. Finn!"

Finnbogi looked up.

They both heard "No, papa, no," faint but very audible.

"Finn, the anti-apparation wards, are they still up?"

"No. No, I removed them once your father left. There was no need..."

"Put them back up. Now, Finn! NOW!"

Finnbogi was used to responding immediately to certain tones. Without questioning Eirik's need for urgency, he pulled out his wand and chanted the anti-apparation wards as Eirik went rushing out of the room, up the stairs to the bedroom, all the while cursing away.

Eirik was reaching for the door as Alexander screamed, "NO, PAPA, NO!"

He was standing in the open doorway when Severus understood that he couldn't apparate. When his face changed from stoic to regret. When Alexander threw himself off the bed and onto his father, sobbing.

When Severus looked over his son to Eirik in the doorway and knew that Eirik was the reason he was still here.

Oddvar found his son in the garden, sitting slumped on the bench, staring at his hands. He hadn't been able to return immediately as there had been one or two things that had required his attention. He'd sent his Head on so that the man could keep his promise to Luc and be the one to question Rhodri and then, once Freya had dealt with the latest situation, Alexander.

She'd dealt with it in a rather blunt manner, even for her. She'd run upstairs, wand in hand, and had cast a sleeping spell on Severus as he'd stood there, son in his arms, glaring at Eirik.

Right now, Severus was snoring away softly in his bed. Alexander, washed, fed, reassured - not just by Freya but by Eirik, by Finnbogi - questioned, reassured yet again, was sleeping in the same bed, wrapped around his father as though to prevent him from leaving.

Oddvar knew that for a fact having checked in on them before coming out.

He sat on the bench next to his son and looked out over the garden.

"It's hard, loving someone."

Eirik sat back, eyes seemingly staring at the tree in the far end. "Harder still to realize that the one you love is incapable of loving in return."

Oddvar was taken aback. "What makes you say that?"

Eirik turned his head and looked his father in the eyes. "He was ready to leave. Me, I can understand, but Alexander?"

"Severus thought that by doing so he was protecting his son. Probably thought he was protecting you as well."

Eirik scoffed. "The logic of that eludes me."

Oddvar turned so that he could watch his son's face in the dying light of day. "Eirik, do you remember the werecub your mother rescued from some Muggle owner?"

Eirik nodded. "She was livid. I'd never seen her that angry. What does that have to do with this?"

"She tried hard - we all did, I seem to remember - to teach the cub that he wasn't a freak. That he was accepted as he was. That he had a place, an equal place, with us for as long as he wanted."

"Didn't work," said Eirik, sadly. "He disappeared one Change and never came back. I think he broke Mother's heart."

"Did you ever think - I know you were a child then, but think now. That cub was about Alexander's age. All he'd known was brutality. I think we scared him more than any beating ever had. We were offering him something unthinkable - his freedom. And it terrified him."

Eirik was silent for a long while. "You're saying that Severus is like that. That he's afraid to love."

"Try seeing it from his perspective. He does love, Eirik. He loves Alexander. There can be no doubt of that, even in your mind. But, because of his love, Alexander's life has been threatened, more than once. This last time, not only Alexander was put in danger, but Rhodri. And even himself. Have you thought how Alexander would have felt, had Moastifer's plan for him to kill his father and his best friend succeeded? Do you think the boy could have lived with that knowledge?"

"All right," Eirik sighed, "I see what you're driving at."

"That's good. Now consider this. Severus is used to dealing with his problems by himself. He's been alone for most of his life. Until Alexander, he had only himself to worry about. Now he has his son, and he has you. And he's seen how Alexander has been made to pay the price for his love. Maybe he's afraid that you'll have to pay it as well."

Eirik shook his head. "Fine. So how do I overcome all that?"

Oddvar smiled at the tone of frustration. "You know, Eirik, one of the things I most admire about you is your determination."

Eirik's surprise was written on his face. Oddvar felt a pang of conscience. He had accused Dumbledore of putting Ambition first, yet how truly different was he? Well, he had a chance to make up for lost time and he would. "There you are, an artist born into a family of physicians, financiers, lawyers, politicians, diplomats. And no matter what, you've stayed true to yourself.

"You put up with your siblings' slurs, their teasing, even their anger when you showed them in your oh, so delicate manner what you thought of them. You put up with your mother's relegating your talent to the status of hobby . And you dealt with my incomprehension."

Oddvar smiled sadly at his son. "It's not easy, you know, trying to see your world. I've tried, more so of late. I have my skills, Eirik , but they're not yours. I see a situation and I can separate it into tiny pieces so that each is understandable and then I can rearrange the pieces so they fit better. This one did this or acted this way because that one did that. You come along and look at the same situation and see...colours, movements. Emotion. I see the whys and wherefores and you see the soul."

Amazingly, Eirik's face tinged pink.

"I know that I haven't been as supportive as you might have liked, Eirik, but I have been as much as I am able, considering what I am." Oddvar reached out and placed his hand on his son's lying on his lap.

Eirik looked almost shy. "I know it worried you."

"Yes, of course it did. I'm a parent, Eirik, even if I'm not a particularly good one. But every day, I deal with the world of consequences. I was worried about you. But no more. Your choice of career is the right one for you, Eirik. The only one for you."

Eirik's eyes were bright. "Even if I end up on a street corner, sketching for knuts?"

Oddvar gave his son's hand a last squeeze before standing. "Will never happen. You're far too good. You're good now and you'll be better. Because you'll stay with it. Steadfast, determined.

"It's a very different thing, my son, being needed for your steadfastness, for your determination rather than..." his finger stroked his son's cheek, "your beauty. Or even your talent. There are two people upstairs who need that from you. So, what are you doing here?"

Eirik stood up. Oddvar opened his arms and Eirik went into them. They held onto each other tightly and then Oddvar kissed the side of his son's head.

"I love you, Eirik."

Eirik's laugh was teary. "I know. I've always known that. I love you, too, papa."

Oddvar hugged his son and then released him. As Eirik went to the door, he added, "Eirik, I know I've not said it nearly enough, but I'm proud of you. Very proud."

Eirik turned at the door. His smile put the sun set to shame. "Thank you, papa."

And he went in.

"That was very good of you, Oddvar."

It gave Oddvar a start. He turned to find Freya watching him from the far side of the garden. He was surprised to find he was embarrassed that she had witnessed the moment between Eirik and himself. So he shrugged and then smiled at her. "Have you come to tell me that you'll marry me, Freya of the Bright Eyes?"

Freya slipped her hands into her robe pockets. "I'm 90 years old, Oddvar Brekke. A little older than your usual choices. And I certainly couldn't give you a child, not at my age."

Oddvar laughed, a little self-consciously. "I've had twenty-two of those. By the time my youngest reaches maturity, I'll be over 150. I think it's time to pay attention to the ones I have, and to my grandchildren."

Freya cocked her head as though considering. "Will you be trying for a second term as President?"

He shook his head. "You know the rules specify only one term of ten years. The IFOW is not in search of megalomaniacs who seek total control. Only wizards or witches who know they must do their best in a limited amount of time."

Freya shrugged. "Well, you're only mid-way in your term. You really haven't the time to court and woo a wife."

Oddvar stood very still. This was further than they had ever gone in this little play of theirs. He was a good mediator because he was good at picking up nuances. And he seemed to be picking some up from Freya Hillswick that had never been there before. He took a chance and continued.

"And at the end of my term, when I will have the time to properly court and woo a wife, what then, Freya of the Bright Eyes?"

She smiled at him, a mischievous, youthful smile. "Well, then," she said, eyes truly bright, "you will have to take your chances and come courting, won't you?"

Upstairs, in their bedroom, Eirik pulled up a chair to the bed and sat in it. Severus was lying on his back, his face still drawn with lines of stress, even after all this time asleep. Eirik sighed.

"You're just going to have to learn to share, Sevvie."

He leaned forwards and pulled the covers over Severus's shoulders. He tucked one corner and then, with a sense of relief, he gently stroked his man's face.

The boy moved and made a small nose. Eirik smiled. He reached over and touched the boy's head. His partner's son. His son as well.

"Onkel Eirik?"

"Yes, Alexander. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Go back to sleep."

"Papa?"

"Your papa's here. And he's staying. Even if I have to tie him down to the bed."

There was a sleepy chuckle. "Thank you." The sound of a yawn. "Love you, Onkel Eirik."

Eirik leaned over and kissed the boy's head. "Love you, too, Alexander."

He sat back and watched silently as Alexander slipped back into sleep.

Eventually, he found his sketch pad and drew his lover sleeping with their son.

Alexander woke up slowly. It took him a moment or two to remember that he was in his father's bed. He raised his head and sighed when he realized his father was still here, in bed. Sound asleep.

And that they weren't alone. Onkel Eirik was also in bed, on his other side. As if both adults were protecting him, even in their sleep.

He moved cautiously, not wanting to wake them up, but he very badly needed to piss. He tiptoed out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. The early morning sunlight was bright enough for him to see Rhodri coming towards him, also making for the bathroom.

Alexander watched his friend, wondering how Rhodri felt about him now that he had seen him as a real werewolf, without the humanizing influence of the Wolfsbane.

"Alexander?"

Alexander nodded. Rhodri came up to him. They looked at each other for a breath and then, arms open, they grabbed and held onto each other.

"You all right?" Rhodri sounded worried. "They told me you were fine but they wouldn't let me see you."

"Yes, fine. You?"

"Well, I really need to pee in the worst way, but apart from that..."

They laughed softly and went into the bathroom together where they pulled up their nightshirts so that they could piss into the toilet. Two equally relieved sighs filled the room over the sounds of jetting water.

"Hungry?" Alexander shook the final drops off his cock.

Rhodri grinned. "You?"

They tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to make any noise as they passed the library where the sound of snores could be heard even through the door.

"Finnbogi," whispered Alexander.

In the kitchen, they helped themselves to sausages from the cold pantry, butter and a jug of milk. Alexander added two glasses and a knife to the pile along with a loaf of fresh bread. Carefully balancing their hoard, the two of them made their way out to the garden, to their favourite spot along the wall.

They were on their second rounds of sausage sandwiches and glasses of milk when Alexander finally spoke up. "Rhodri, what happened after I Changed?"

Rhodri swallowed his mouthful. "Haven't they told you anything?"

Alexander grimaced. "Not really. I think they're afraid I won't be able to handle it." He lay down his sandwich. "Is that what you think as well?"

Rhodri chewed another mouthful while he thought. Alexander waited, knowing that Rhodri was not trying to avoid answering him, only putting his thoughts into order.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Alexander thought a moment. "Moustifer yelling that I was going to kill you as well."

Rhodri nodded. "Well, then he said something about how werewolves were going to hunted down, how Hogwarts would be cleaned of all vermin. By then you'd Changed."

"Rhodri?"

"Yes?"

"Was I truly terrifying? Papa said that once he'd had to face a werewolf who hadn't taken Wolfsbane and that he had been terrified."

Rhodri looked into Alexander's eyes. "Yes, you were pretty scarey. Scarier still because Mousitfer kept using Crucio on you which only made you wilder and crazier. He used it on your father too, when he tried to get to Moustifer."

"On papa?" Alexander shook his head. "Again!" Maybe , he thought, that explained why his father had acted as he had...

"When he thought you were good and crazy, Moustifer began levitating. I guess he wanted to watch you kill us. He was cackling away to himself like one of those Cornish pixies. You remember the ones we had to deal with in first year Defence. Then he used his wand and released your collar. But instead of attacking your father, you jumped high...really high, Alexander...it was really impressive, the way you did that...I swear he was a good eight, nine feet up...and you grabbed him by the leg and dragged him down."

Rhodri drank down half a glass of milk while Alexander waited. He wiped his milk moustache off with the back of his hand before he continued.

"Didn't matter what he did to you, you held on. While you were hanging onto him, your father dragged me out of the hut and told me to find some shelter. The rocks were filled with crevices..."

He stopped and stared at his hands. He looked up at Alexander, his voice almost reverent with admiration. "Then you know what your father did, Alexander?"

Alexander shook his head.

"He went back in. He went back into the hut and closed the door behind him."

Alexander was speechless at the horror of it.

Rhodri nodded his head. "Luc said to me that he did that because he wanted to be with you, no matter what. Your grandfather's Head of Security told me that since the door only opened from the inside, there was a good chance that you in wolf wouldn't be able to open it easily. That he was buying me time to find a safe place to hide from you.

"Your father, Alexander," Rhodri's voice broke, "is a bloody hero."

Both of them were very quiet. Each pretended the other wasn't using the bottom of his nightshirt to wipe his face.

Alexander poured the last of the milk into their glasses. He picked his up and played with the glass, rolling it between his hands as he found the courage to look up at Rhodri.

"Rhodri. Do you hate me now that you've seen what I can be?"

Rhodri choked on his milk. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, you've only ever seen me before as a wolf under the influence of Wolfsbane. And I know that I scared you. Moustifer was right: I might have killed you."

Rhodri shook his head. "Alexander. Yes, you scared me, but you also saved my life. You could have attacked me and your father, but you didn't. You saved us. There was enough of you, Alexander, left in the wolf to do that."

Alexander bit his lips as he thought. "Have I ever scared you before? After I Change."

Rhodri leaned back on his hands. He took his time answering. "Yes, after you told us you were a werewolf. I mean, I really didn't know you then. We really didn't become friends until the Challenge. And when you decided to go back to Hogwarts, Madam McGonagall wrote to my grandparents - and to Geoff's aunt - about your sharing dorm room with us."

Alexander put his glass down. "What did your grandparents say?"

Rhodri cocked his head, trying to remember. "Mam told me it was my decision. Tad sat me down and told me that..." Rhodri stopped and stared intensely at Alexander.

"What? What did he tell you?"

Rhodri stayed very still then he gave a sharp nod of his head. "He told me about your father."

Alexander knew his mouth had dropped open.

Rhodri sat up straight. "Tad said that he had attended the trials after Harry took Voldemort's powers from him. He said that he was there when your father came up for questioning. He told me a little about the charges, just enough, he said, so that I would understand that if Severus Snape said he had a potion that allowed a werewolf to retain its humanity, then he did."

Then Rhodri looked incredibly sheepish. "Still, he made me promise that the first few times, I would have my wand at hand and he taught me a really strong stupefying spell, one that can be used on dragons."

He laughed softly. "It's a good thing I never needed it `cause I forgot how it went."

Alexander was very silent for long minutes. He finally looked at Rhodri. "That's why you weren't so surprised at the things Moustifer told us about papa. You knew."

Rhodri shrugged. "Only some." He went on, hesitantly at first, "Tad told me that people sometimes make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them. And he said that your papa was someone he would trust. He said he would because, at the trial, your papa never tried to wriggle his way out of the charges. He admitted that he'd done things that weren't nice and that he was willing and ready to take the punishment."

He smiled, nodding his head, "Tad said that he was very pleased when he learnt that your papa was teaching at Hogwarts. It was also one of the reasons he was very pleased when I wrote him that I had been sorted into Slytherin. He said that your papa took care of his House."

Alexander snorted. "He couldn't stop the Aurors from taking over."

Rhodri scoffed. "No one could have stopped them, except the Headmaster. Tad was pretty livid about that. He sent the Headmaster a Howler."

"Really? A Howler? To the Headmaster? Wow, Rhodri!"

Rhodri's admiration for his grandfather was very obvious. "Yes, wow, Alexander!"

Alexander lay back on the grass and stared at the sky. "Rhodri, so we're still friends?"

Rhodri threw himself backwards, next to Alexander. "Sure. Did you think any of this would matter?" He propped himself up on an elbow.

Alexander nodded slightly.

Rhodri scoffed loudly. "Bloody hell, Alexander Hillswick, you're my very best friend in the whole world. Why would you think that anything would change that?"

Alexander grinned back. "I'm glad because you're my very best friend too in the whole world."

"That's the only thing that matters," said Rhodri. And he reached over and punched Alexander on the shoulder, none too gently.

Alexander rolled a little from the punch. He reached up and returned the favour. Rhodri fell backwards. He stretched out his hand and slammed it down on Alexander's stomach. Alexander grimaced as he rubbed his abdomen. With the speed he'd honed as Seeker, he rolled over on top of Rhodri who followed through by rolling on top of Alexander. Alexander reached for his friend's ribs, for that one spot which had Rhodri screaming with laughter.

Eirik had suggested a game of cards after lunch to keep the boys occupied. Freya and Finnbogi decided to join them so they were all outside on the patio when the Ddus arrived. Ddu looked slightly surprised then relieved at seeing them all. Eirik understood now why Ddu would have been worried no matter what the last letter to them had said: it was part and parcel of being - he smiled at Alexander - a parent.

Rhiannon Ddu had barely leapt off her broomstick when Rhodri was in her arms. "Mam!"

The boys had impressed Eirik with the way they had handled whatever tension might have existed between them. He'd woken to find Alexander missing and had rushed out, already imagining the worst - damn, this parenting business was hard on the nerves! - only to find the boys roughhousing in the garden.

But now Alexander was wearing a worried look. Eirik thought it might have something to do with how the Ddus might react. He went up to the boy and placed his hands on the bony shoulders, offering support. Alexander looked up at him, smiled a little timorously, and leaned back against Eirik.

The trust this child had in him suddenly hit Eirik. Warmth filled him and he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, drawing him even closer. Damn, if this parenting business hadn't its good points!

Ddu waited until his wife reached for her handkerchief to grab Rhodri in turn.

Eirik realized that though Rhiannon had needed to be reassured that Rhodri was all right, Evan was the one now offering reassurance to the boy. Whatever he was murmuring in the boy's ear had him sniffing and burrowing his head deeper against his grandfather's shoulder.

Rhiannon blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She came up to Alexander and opened her arms wide to him. Alexander went into them.

Eirik felt a small flash of jealousy but then he pushed it away. Alexander needed reassurance that he was not going to be banished from Rhodri's friendship. Rhiannon's tears and murmurs were doing just that.

This time, after she wiped her eyes again, she smiled at all of them. "I don't know which of you sent that letter, the one that kept yelling `Open me first!', but thank Merlin you did."

Ddu coughed to clear his voice as he brushed the hair off his grandson's face. His voice was gruff, "Well, can't say you look much the worse for wear in spite of your adventures."

And he didn't. Neither did Alexander. It was only the adults who looked wrung out!

Rhodri grinned at Alexander and then at his grandfather but suddenly went very serious. "Tad, he burnt my broomstick. He chopped it up and burnt it. And Alexander's as well. And our wands."

"An evil man," agreed Evan Ddu, once more reaching for Rhodri. Eirik sympathized: the boy had been so pleased with his broomstick. "Truly evil."

And then Evan Ddu came up to Alexander and hugged the boy. After a moment, voice gruff, he growled, "So, wolves and dragons, eh? I understand that you two make quite a team."

And Alexander lost his worried look and grinned at Evan Ddu. Then he leaned around him to grin at Rhodri. "Rhodri says that Luc said that the girls will really like hearing about our adventures. He says now we have one each."

Ddu groaned loudly. "And let's keep it at that. I don't think any of us can survive another of your adventures."

Eirik found himself nodding vigorously. "Ain't that the truth!"

While Freya and Rhiannon had the boys help them prepare a meal for the newcomers, Finnbogi, Eirik and Evan slipped into the library for a quick talk. Finnbogi was, as always, succinct.

Evan Ddu listened in silence, his face impassive. Eirik saw the Head of a dragon reserve, not the grandfather.

"Well, I am not by nature a violent man, but I have to tell the two of you that I am mightily pleased that Moastifer met his end in such an unpleasant manner."

"The entire matter has been classified, Master Ddu," said Finnbogi. "We felt it best for the security of the Hillswick Clan and, frankly, for the boys. The Head of Security had a talk with both of them, making certain that they both know not to talk about the situation."

Evan Ddu became the grandfather again. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. But before he had time to say anything, Finnbogi smiled. "Well, to no one other than immediate family and I believe his name is Geoff."

Ddu agreed. "Yes, it would be rather unreasonable to ask them not to share their adventure with Geoff. A secret as good as this one must be shared with at least one person."

Finnbogi nodded. "We have also informed the Headmistress of Hogwarts and their Head of House. Madam Hillswick has seen to it that Madam Pomfrey also knows. Just in case there should be repercussions later on. They both seem to be handling the situation well, but who knows?"

And with that, Finnbogi left them, returning to his duties.

Over the meal, Evan explained that they had been deep into the Romanian Reserve, along with several other reservists, dealing with a badly injured dragon, while all this had been going on. They'd returned to camp only the previous night, to find a small stack of mail waiting for them.

"The boys' adventure was over," said Rhiannon, "before we'd even known they were having one."

"Darn fool Longhorn flew into the face of a mountain during a storm. A young male, which explains it. Should have headed for shelter rather than try and prove that he was stronger than the winds and rains." Evan looked specifically at the two boys as he said that.

"Not like we asked to be kidnapped," muttered Rhodri.

Evan looked from one boy to the other. "No," he agreed. "But it's just that I would like to think that you two have learnt something from all this. You two kept your heads in a situation where, if you'd lost them, you might have made matters worse. I just hope that lesson will stay with you the rest of your lives. In times of crisis, think before you react. It should serve you in good stead."

Alexander went off with Rhodri to help him pack his things. The Ddus would be heading back to Wales as soon as Rhodri was ready.

When the boys had gone inside, Evan looked from Freya to Eirik. "Where's Severus?"

"Sleeping," said Eirik. He exchanged a look with Freya then sighed, "We're still having a little bit of trouble with him."

Evan sat back in his chair. "He blames himself. Thinks he's the one responsible for a lunatic's behaviour."

Freya nodded her head. "He tried to leave. He's very angry with us for preventing that. The days of waiting were harder on him than he let on. Harder than I think any of us could guess. And he was subjected to more Crucio."

"He's convinced himself that if he stays," added Eirik, "Alexander will die."

"Bloody idiot," muttered Evan.

"Evan!" Rhiannon was shocked.

"Well, he is. I suppose this all has to do with his time with Voldemort? I never thought I would say this, but maybe he should have been sent to Azkaban. Then maybe he would feel he had been properly punished and he'd be able to get on with his life."

Eirik wondered if Evan might not have a point. But then the man added, "These bloody sensitive types!"

Eirik choked back a laugh. He looked at Freya who began chuckling.

"Well," Eirik said, "whatever you do, don't let Severus hear you call him that. He thinks he's tougher than...than dragon hide."

Before the Ddus left, Eirik pulled Evan aside for a private moment. "My father and I want to thank you and your wife for the support you've given Severus and Alexander all this time. Alexander feels very badly that Rhodri's broomstick and wand were destroyed because of him. Father promised him he'd deal with the matter. You'll find a Firebolt waiting to be picked up at Quality Quidditch Supplies and Ollivander will be presenting his bill for Rhodri's new wand to us."

Before Evan could do more than sputter, Eirik continued. "Please. You allowed Rhodri to come here fully expecting him to be safe. He wasn't. Yes. I know: not of our doing. But our consciences need to be appeased far more than your pride, Evan Ddu."

Part Eight

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