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"Are you sure Albus?" James asked one Saturday morning a couple of weeks later. He was standing in front of the desk in the Headmaster's office, earnestly trying to deny that, as Albus argued, he needed a holiday. The portraits around him were shouting out their own views, which both of them ignored with the ease of long practice. "I'm happy enough staying to help you keep an eye on things."

Albus smiled at him, the proud smile of a mentor who knows that his protégé is completely serious about this: his heart just as pure as it appears.

"My child, I have been Headmaster in this school for about fifty years now and taught at it for close to a hundred. Don't you feel that I can look after myself for less than two days?"

"Of course, but…."

"No buts, Harry. You go and take some time off to see your family."

"My family?"

"Aren't they among those you'd count? Family is a blessing you understand the value of. Go on, don't worry about me, the school will still be standing when you return."

"A large proportion of my family is here, actually, but okay, since you're sure you'll be okay" James agreed reluctantly. It wasn't that he thought Albus wasn't completely competent but he was getting old, even for a wizard, and if something happened when he wasn't there . . . James' eyes met the blue ones of his old teacher and they smiled, knowing and acknowledging the depth of their friendship. Content now, James turned and went back down to the dungeons.

Albus watched him go, his smile sad now. As with many ancient and powerful wizards, it was given to him to feel when his time was approaching and it was. He would have embarked on the next great adventure before the flowers blossomed again. At his age, it might even be in bed and he sincerely hoped it would be, if only to spare those he would leave the pain.

James meanwhile was soon down in the now familiar dungeons. His home, as much as the Gryffindor tower had ever been.

"Severus!" he called, coming into their quarters. He followed the scent of breakfast and took himself through to the kitchen. "Do you mind if I go and see Draco and Blaise for the weekend?"

"If you're worried as to whether I can manage to dress myself in your absence, I suggest you pull your head out of whatever hole you've buried it in and take that as your answer. If anything happens here, I'm fairly sure that Hogwarts will make sure that you know."

"She will?"

Severus sighed and his faced assumed the expression familiar of old that he used when dealing with a small child, first year or Harry.

"Hogwarts dotes on you, everyone has been walking around in peace and tranquillity as if it had been Christmas every day for months. There hasn't been a single fight bar the scuffle in Gryffindor at New Year and you should know by now that the castle is half sentient. She has feelings, just like that car that Arthur Weasley animated. I am sure that if she feels threatened, you will find yourself in the Great Hall before you are even aware that there is a problem."

"Oh. Right

"Your things are over by the door if you want to leave now."

James looked back the way he'd come to see a small hold-all, packed while he was gone. Everyone seemed to think he needed a break, so he might as well go. Even Severus had gone to the Malfoys the previous weekend and came back looking refreshed.



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



"Master James! Master James is here!" shrieked the house elf clinging to his leg as he approached the nursery. James looked at him and began the slow process of peeling off his over enthusiastic welcomer.

"Hello Dobby," he said, well resigned to the house elf's hyperactivity by now.

Dobby looked at him, beaming, then glanced from side to side as if checking for eavesdroppers.

"Dobby is looking after Master Harry," he half whispered, proudly.

"I'm sure you're really good at that," James said. He supposed Draco and Blaise knew best but Dobby?

"Dobby was looking after Master Draco when he was a little master so Dobby is knowing exactly what to do," Dobby said, still beaming. Then he said quietly and confidentially. "Master Harry is a much nicer baby than Master Draco was. Master Harry is clever."

James laughed. The thought of a little blond blob with blond hair and a pout struck him as amusing, as well as the pout the adult Draco would pull if the mention of him being a somewhat less intelligent baby than his son came up. Still, Harry was his godson after all, and with his influence, of course the child was intelligent.

"Where is Harry?"

"Master Harry is in the nursery with Mistress Malfoy," Dobby said. "She told Dobby to come here. Dobby can take you there now."

With an uncharacteristic abruptness for a house elf, Dobby took his arm and 'popped' them upstairs. While James was grateful at being spared the walk, a little warning might have been pleasant.

Looking around the nursery, he could see a number of changes since his last visit, one of being the state of messiness the room was currently in, various toys, towels and baby clothes being scattered around the room. Across the door was a firmly secured piece of cloth that rose to mid-thigh on him, presumably to keep the baby in as Harry now realised, seeing a little bundle of clothes crawling with remarkable speed towards him across the room. Blaise, lounging on the sofa, hooked him with practised ease and placed him back at her feet.

"James," Draco said with a smile as Dobby scooped up Harry and took him over to the far corner where they amused themselves by pulling faces at each other. Really, Dobby was nothing more than an overgrown toddler himself at times. "It's about time you came over. Severus told us you were in the attack and got wounded."

"Severus fusses sometimes," James said, somewhat irritated but mostly touched by their concern. "I was nicked a couple of times by cutting hexes, simple cuts that took an hour or so to heal up fully with a potion. I can assure you that the Death Eaters we were fighting are in much worse condition, including the vampires."

"They'd be in an even worse one once my father discovered they'd failed in what he'd thought was a simple task. That is, if you let any of them get away."

"A couple of vampires, that's it."

"You didn't lose anyone, did you?" Blaise asked anxiously. "Surely Severus would have mentioned . . ."

"He probably would have. No, everyone's fine now though Fleur was stuck in the Infirmary overnight. I notice that Harry's crawling now."

Draco beamed at him like the proud father he was; he looked much sweeter than James would have thought when he smiled that widely, like a five year old in a toy shop.

"Harry has been crawling for three weeks now, he can almost beat Dobby in a crawling race as well."

"A crawling race?"

Draco shrugged.

"Harry seems to enjoy it and it appeals to Dobby's sense of humour. Still, he's fast, isn't he? Just watch him go. He'll be a Seeker when he's older, mark my words."

"Especially with our careful coaching."

"Watch it, you two," Blaise warned them playfully. "I'm a Chaser and so is Severus. We'll be doing our best to stop you corrupting him."

"Corrupting! Seeking is the most honourable position on the pitch: the thrill of one to one combat, the speed, the talent, the skill . . . ."

"And so modest as well. Besides, he's not touching a broomstick, even as a passenger, until he's at least seven."

Draco looked horrified at the thought.

"Love, I had my first broom when I was three. You have to start early, else it isn't as natural. James, you'll back me up on that, won't you?"

"I didn't even see a broom until I was eleven."

"Eleven! And you're that good?"

"My first captain called me a natural. By the way, when Harry's older, I'd like to buy him his first broom. As his godfather it's my responsibility to encourage such dangerous sports as Quidditch, duelling and dragon hunting."

"Dragon hunting? I assure you Evans, my son is not going anywhere near a dragon until he's at least seventeen," Draco said, looking paler than ever.

"I needed a third activity. Replace it with pranking, if you want. That can be dangerous, especially if he tries to prank us or Severus."

Draco and Blaise looked at him helplessly, then started laughing.

A couple of hours later, Dobby looked up from his game, picked up Harry gently with a practised ease and brought him over.

"Do Masters and Mistress want to have Harry now?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, the gurgling baby was placed unceremoniously in James's arms and Dobby vanished.

"It's almost Harry's lunchtime," Blaise said by way of explanation. "I think Dobby's gone to get it ready."

James looked down at the chubby face and tapped the little nose gently with his finger. Harry gurgled at him, beaming and brought his short little arm up to feel James's forehead. Alarmed and suddenly remembering the last time it had happened, James distracted Harry quickly with a game of peek a boo. If Harry could see through the make up, or sense something, it was possible he had some sort of Seeing talent. If not, he was just a baby with a knack for scaring the hell out of his poor suffering godfather.

Suddenly Harry started whimpering and Blaise quickly scooped him up and started soothing him while James stared at them helplessly. One moment the baby was happy, the next minute he was upset. What had he done?

He got an idea a moment later. Pain shot through his body and he screamed, falling forwards onto the floor, writhing. It felt like his whole body was on fire, that his magic was being sucked out of him. Somewhere in the distance he could hear Blaise and Draco's concerned voices but he couldn't respond. There was a gentle mental nudge and it felt like the bottom of his mind had dropped out as he was sucked into a vision the like of which he had hoped never to experience again.

He was in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, there was no doubt about that, and it seemed to be lunchtime. That meant it was happening now or - as the presence within his mind seemed to negate it - a few minutes ago. The students were cowering, most under the tables, and the teachers were standing in the central aisle, wands drawn. At the front of them was Albus Dumbledore and opposite them . . . opposite them was Lucius Malfoy and what appeared to be his entire contingent of Death Eaters, arrayed neatly in their ranks, wands out and ready for their master's order.

"Lucius Malfoy," Albus said, his voice steady and calm. "I must ask you to leave the grounds immediately or I will be forced to take action.

"You?" Lucius sneered, his disgust evident. Obviously he was as lacking in common sense as he was in sanity, hardly a difficult association to make.

"I. You forget, Lucius, that it was I that defeated Grindewald, that stood against Voldemort in both of his risings."

"You old man? Without Potter you are nothing, and my lord finished him off. I have risen greater than either and your time is now over."

"That remains to be seen but I am not the last or the only defender of the light," Albus said. Maybe what he had said at the Order meeting had been correct, maybe he was resigned to death and was now trying his best to defend his school and put doubt into the hearts of the Death Eaters. "In my wake comes the Heir of Slytherin and Gryffindor and doubt not, Lucius, he will destroy you."

The self-proclaimed Dark Lord seemed a little concerned at that, then he sneered again.

"Lord Voldemort was the last of the line of Slytherin and Potter was the last of the line of Gryffindor. They are both dead, the lines are ended and if that is the best you can do, my complete victory is near. Stand aside or die!"

"I cannot back down when the school is in danger," Albus stated, still calm. James knew this to be correct, it had been part of the warding oath. He felt an itch to be there himself.

"So be it, old fool. AVADA KEDAVRA!" Lucius Malfoy shouted, green light spurting in a somewhat feeble approximation of the killing curse. Of course, it was fighting the wards, no wonder it was weak. It sped through the air none the less. Albus stood there, accepting it and it struck him in the chest. For a moment, James thought he had done the impossible but then his mentor slowly toppled. A number of students screamed, the teachers were pale and white. Severus in particular looked horrified: he had looked on Albus as a grandfather, also knowing that his fate as a traitor would be worse than any other's at Lucius' hands.

James tore himself from the vision, filled with the need to defend Severus and the school. His eyes snapped open and he leapt to his feet, already moving. A hand went up to brush his forehead to feel that the make up had been seared away by the magic of wards rushing through him. Draco and Blaise were staring at him; Harry clutched in her arms. Undoubtedly they could see the scar and he knew that with his anger, his eyes would be blazing with power, he could feel it roaring in his ears.

"No questions now. Hogwarts has been breached; Albus is dead. Lucius will be as soon as I get my hands on him."

A sweep of his wand had his hair once again at the familiar shoulder length, his robes were enlarged from his pocket and spelled on and his wand was drawn.

"This ends now," he said, did the impossible and Apparated into Hogwarts.

They stared at him - Death Eaters, students and teachers alike - as he stood there over the Headmaster's body, quite obviously furious. All except the Death Eaters had known James Evans, the Defence Professor, was a powerful man but nothing had prepared them for this. He looked more like a demi-god than a mortal man as the power spilled out of his body, making him glow with silver light. James looked down at the corpse of a man who he had considered one of his closest confidants. He looked his years as he lay there, frail and broken. Slowly, he knelt and straightened the body, closing the eyes and folding the arms over the wand on his chest. Satisfied at last, he rose to look accusingly at the Death Eaters who had dared attack one of his family.

"Who are you?" Lucius managed to demand with a semblance of his normal tone. He was the only one of them unmasked, dressed in black velvet robes that were quite obviously the best money could buy, hair immaculately groomed. Obviously life as a fugitive wasn't quite as harsh as the Ministry would have liked it to be.

"Your worst nightmare," James replied, sending stunning curses at two of the Death Eaters from his bare hands. Lucius glanced at them, dismissed them as unimportant and turned back.

"Your name?"

"I'm not answering that. This is your final warning."

"Do your worst, boy."

"I, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, banish these uninvited guests from the grounds by virtue of my magic and blood," James said, the words coming to him instinctively. Nothing happened. A few Death Eaters were brave enough to laugh.

"You see, we aren't uninvited," Lucius said, sneering. "Your petty tricks won't work on us."

"Who was foolish enough to invite you?"

From behind the ranks of the Death Eaters came one slighter figure, similarly masked. With a bow to his 'Dark Lord' he removed his mask. It was Walter Smethley, a fifth year Ravenclaw and he looked like he was about to burst with pride.

"Traitor!" some brave student called out. Without looking, James wondered whether it was a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, certainly the voice was familiar.

"You know Walter, had you come to us, we would have protected you," he said sadly, knowing that the boy had done it willingly.

"I am proud to serve my master, mudblood."

"Language, language," Lucius chided lightly, mockingly. "As you see, you cannot be rid of us so easily. Now, will you tell us your name so we can put it on your grave?"

"Can't you guess, Malfoy?" James asked quietly, mockingly, putting his disappointment behind him as best he could. When no answer was forthcoming he said very slowly, very deliberately. " My name is Harry . . . James . . . Evans . . . Potter, heir of the line of Gryffindor by my father's grace, heir of the line of Slytherin through my mother's blood, Defender of Hogwarts and current Headmaster."

The Hall broke out into shocked mutterings. The students were cheering, he'd given them hope when they thought they were all dead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Slytherins hammering on the tables. Then James smiled a smile that made Lucius tremble in his tailored, handmade boots.

"Incidentally, I'm also your grandson's godfather."

"What?! Potter???"

"Actually, I discovered that I have something of a Slytherin side to me. I was in Merlin house at University and discovered that I get on quite well with Draco and he gave me the honour. You know he's named the child after me, of course - Henry Severus Malfoy."

"A traitor and a mudblood. How appropriate for the little blood traitor's bastard. He will be taught the proper ways after I have disposed of you and my worthless offspring."

"Says something about your skills as a father, doesn't it? The thing is that once I am dead, you won't be able to find him, unless you happen to be Gryffindor's heir?"

"Enough talk Potter. As I told your . . . predecessor, the rule of the light is over. I rule now."

"I would dispute that. I killed your master, the one whose feet you grovelled at for years, and I can't see you as presenting a greater challenge. Look who you've brought with you, the dregs of wizarding society."

"Avada Kedavra!" Lucius said. Nothing happened, not even a spark of green light.

"You see," James said, teeth clenched with anger now. "Although Albus was technically brilliant and relatively powerful, in terms of sheer power, I outstrip him easily. The wards are stronger than before, your dark magic will no longer work."

"Light magic works as well."

James ignored him, turning his back to look at the staff table while silently erecting the strongest shield he could hold. His eyes met those of his lover and he smiled encouragingly when he saw the look of sick worry in his face.

"Severus," he said lightly, "I might need some of your potion after this, you know the one I mean."

"If you survive that is," Lucius said, shooting a spell at his back.

James spun, dropping into a crouch. Before he could even identify it, it had dissipated against the shield.

"Attacking when my back was turned, Malfoy? I'd have expected better from a pureblood."

"I'm a Slytherin."

"Are you indeed? Then I'll give you a taste of Slytherin's gift."

Lucius didn't answer. His face was flushed - with anger or embarrassment, James couldn't tell - and he shouted out another spell. James stood there, gathering himself, trusting in his shield. Slowly, he closed his eyes to concentrate and reached within himself for the shimmering core of magic that he had discovered, that his gift allowed him to touch and manipulate in its raw form. Slowly, he drew it out and opened his eyes again, aware that the glow around him was now blinding. Smiling with grim determination, he released the energy.

A pure bolt of silver-white light shot across the small gap separating them. It hit Lucius Malfoy in the chest. When the spots cleared from everyone's eyes, they saw nothing but a pile of ashes. James . . . Harry turned his gaze at the Death Eaters.

"That was for Albus," he said blankly. Then he continued with a little more of his normal control although he was still blazing in their eyes. "I could kill you but I won't. Unless you have a death wish, you will remain here until the Aurors arrive."

He turned again and smiled blissfully, swaying from side to side, his task accomplished.

"Oops," he said calmly as he collapsed and the light around him vanished.

They stared at him for a moment in shocked silence. Severus was the first to shake himself out of his stupor.

"Students, return to your common rooms immediately. Prefects, I am asking you to ensure that everyone remains there until order is restored," he said, the familiar voice perhaps the only thing that was keeping them from mass hysteria. They began to pour out of the Hall, many of them in tears, the prefects calling out to shepherd strays back into the columns. "Minerva, perhaps you could see to it that Albus's body is looked after and someone had better call for the Aurors to deal with that lot."

"And James . . . Harry?" she asked quietly from where she stood beside him.

"We'll be in our quarters," Severus said softly, suddenly seeming subdued and helpless. "From what he's told me, he's exhausted and burnt. There is nothing we can do, except treat his wounds and hope. If Draco arrives, send him to Aberforth."

"And Smethley?"

"Give him to the Order when the rest of them arrive and confine him to Grimmauld Place. I think Harry would be the best person to talk to him and there's no point in putting him back in the dormitories: even the Ravenclaws would lynch him."

"I'll take care of things," she said, putting a comforting hand on his arm. "You look after Harry and I'll keep them away from you."

"More precisely we'll be in James' rooms - his password is in Parseltongue and while I have free access no one else does. Send a house elf with food and any messages and ask them to bring Poppy in as soon as she has time."

She nodded and stepped away as the man knelt down next to his lover and, with a gentleness and strength few had ever seen in him, lifted him into his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

Severus sighed, focussing on the task in hand to stop his tears from flowing. Albus's death so soon left a hole in him that he didn't even realise had been filled. He made his way past the rest of the staff, heading down towards the dungeons. He passed the slow moving Slytherin column.

"Is he going to be all right sir?" Archie asked, genuine concern written in his face.

"I don't know," Severus said blankly. "We can only hope."

"Alistair?"

"Keep him with you. He'll only suffer if he comes with me."

The prefect nodded and continued to shepherd his charges away. Severus reached their rooms, the portrait wordlessly swinging open as he approached and laid James on their bed. Deftly, he stripped the unconscious body and spread the soothing liniment into his skin. At last he stepped back and looked at his work.

"You'd better recover," he half threatened, though the half-choked sound betrayed his bantering tone. "Because I don’t know what the rest of us are going to do if you don't."



* * * * * * * * * * *



Days passed.

Severus reapplied the burn potion methodically every four hours, looking anxiously for any signs of recovery. He paced anxiously around the room while waiting, learning the distances intimately: it was eleven paces to make a complete circuit of the bed, moved away from the wall for ease in potion applying, seven paces from the door to the wall, five from the chair to James's head.

James remained unconscious, his forehead creased with pain.



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



Two days after the battle, Ron and Hermione Weasley sat at the breakfast table. Ron was having his usual bowl of Muggle Frosties while Hermione nibbled her toast. He scooped the post owl out of the air with the ease of long practice, paid it and took the paper.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, catching sight of the headline.



HERO HARRY RETURNS!

An exclusive press release from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday evening confirms the rumours that have been spreading like wildfire across the country and indeed across the world. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, hero of the wizarding world is alive! Harry, now twenty four, is currently at the school where he has been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts under the pseudonym 'James Evans' (James being his father's name, Evans his mother's surname).

On last Saturday evening, Lucius Malfoy, the Dark Lord, attacked Hogwarts School with a horde of Death Eaters. Students fled with only minimal injuries until a confrontation in the Great Hall led to the death of the great light wizard, Albus Dumbledore, felled by an Unforgiveable Avada Kedavra curse. "We thought it was all over" Ravenclaw student Jonathan Chambers told our reporter. "If they could kill Professor Dumbledore, who could beat them?" The answer came in the form of one Harry Potter, who Apparated directly into the Hall in a show of power that shocked many. Visiting his ancestral home for the weekend, he was alerted when the wards transferred to him.

"He was actually quite scary" said Hufflepuff Kathleen Greenly (13). "It was like he was glowing with power. We almost didn’t recognise Professor Evans immediately but the Death Eaters looked terrified. We only saw the scar later". Potter proceeded to taunt Malfoy and then destroy him in a blaze of white light like that which killed Voldemort. Eyewitness accounts suggest that he called it 'Slytherin's Gift' and confirms rumours that he is the heir of Slytherin as well as the heir of Gryffindor. Truly a powerful young man.

However, power of this kind took its toll and we are now aware that he is hovering between life and death, concealed deep within Hogwarts' halls. This location is known only to mediwitch Poppy Pomfrey and the Hogwarts Potions Master, Severus Snape, who has led Slytherin House jointly with the young hero over the past year.

Should Harry Potter recover, we know that he will be welcomed back into the wizarding world with open arms. In fact, the holder of the Hogwarts wards is usually confirmed as the next headmaster of the school, though whether he accepts the position given his extreme young age remains to be seen.

At present, we can do nothing but send our good wishes for his recovery on the behalf of the Daily Prophet and the wizarding world as a whole and thank him for saving us again.

Hermione came to look over Ron's shoulder.

"They took their time," she said, sounding remarkably calm.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Harry's alive, aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am Ron."

"You knew already, didn't you?" he demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, actually. I worked it out at the Harry Potter Festival. The poor man was really quite obvious when you knew what to look for. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but he all but begged me not to tell anyone - I think he wanted to be anonymous for the rest of his life, if he could."

"He always did hate the media stuff," Ron acknowledged reluctantly. Then he groaned. "Hermione, please tell me I didn't ask him for advice on a speech about himself."

"You did, I'm afraid."

"And at the Order meeting?"

"When you told he looked too old to be Harry Potter? Yes, I'm sorry to say that one happened too. I wouldn't worry too much, he thought it was hilarious."

"He would," Ron muttered darkly. Then he beamed again. "Come on Hermione, we've got to go to Hogwarts!"



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



On the fifth day, Madam Pomfrey was brought in by Dobby, Severus having altered the wards to allow her entrance. She was looking tired, her usually starched white uniform was covered in potion stains and the occasional spot of blood and her hair was tangled within its bun.

Despite her own condition, she looked at the bags under his eyes, the strained face and pulled a vial of a mild sleeping potion from the pocket of her apron and placed it on the coffee table. He scowled at it.

"As soon as I have finished examining James . . . Harry or whatever he's calling himself now, you are going to go to bed. I can apply potions just as well as you can and I assure he has nothing that I haven't seen before. You will do him no good if you collapse before he is better and he has to spend another few weeks nursing you."

Severus looked as if he might rebel and then sighed.

"He's through here," he said at last, gesturing that she should precede him into the bedroom."

She studied the still body carefully. It was levitated so it hovered a few centimetres over the bed and the naked form sparkled with the remains of the last application of burn potion. There seemed to have been no improvement on what she had been told his body had looked like before. Poppy took a deep breath and picked up the jar of potion left by the bed.

"He's not coming along quite as well as he hoped, so it's convenient that you've made a stronger version of the potion," she lied confidently, with the ease of long practice. "And I'll help the healing on with some charms. Severus could you help me apply the potion this time so that we are sure it is everywhere."

He nodded, looking confused and they smoothed it into his skin. As soon as they were done, he dragged her out into the living room and folded his arms across his chest.

"Mind telling me what that was about?" he asked. She glared at him, looking affronted that her professional abilities had been questioned, and cast a local silencing charm around them.

"Didn't you ever wonder how he recovered so fast after his accidents? He'd be up after just one night when you or I would have been in bed for a week. It's because he was Muggle raised. He has no idea what potions can do in terms of speed so if he's convinced he'll be healed very quickly, he will be. After finding this out on him in his first year, I've since used it with good success rates on Muggleborns. He's using his magic to heal his body - I'd never even known it was possible before!"

"You mean that he's augmenting the magical properties of the potions with just his belief?"

"Exactly that. If you don't believe me, watch his progress after this. I think that's all I can do for him right now. You're doing as good a job as I could right now and I've got a few students in the Infirmary that ran into the Death Eaters before they reached the Great Hall not to mention the hysterics."

"Thank you Poppy, I can manage."

"And for goodness sake, go to bed Severus! You've four hours that you can sleep in now, so use it!"



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



Severus kept watching, kept working and, as Poppy had said, after her visit the improvement in his lover's condition was marked and gave him great relief. The skin slowly healed; slowly but still faster than Severus could have hoped given his condition. A week after her visit, his skin was marred only by his numerous scars and a few traces of the terrible burns the crease was gone from his forehead.

As Severus applied the potion, he talked to James as Poppy had.

"Now you idiot, this is my very best potion, so you had better appreciate it and get well. I've been working on improving it and this is at least twice as good as the last one I tried on you yesterday."

He finished smothering the body in it and stood back to check his work. In front of his very eyes, he watched as the potion was absorbed into the skin and a wave passed over the body, the burns vanishing completely as it passed. He stared at James in wonder: was this what Poppy had been expecting from him? Had he done this with all of his potions before?

Severus leapt forwards to kneel by the bed as the hand nearest him twitched. Suddenly, James dropped the few centimetres to the bed and opened his eyes. He smiled.

"Ouch," he said ironically, his hand reaching out to grasp Severus's as he stared up at the ceiling, and promptly passed out again.

Severus stood there, stunned, for a few moments, then summoned a house elf.

"I need Madam Pomfrey here as quickly as possible," he snapped.

"It is one in the morning, Master Snape," the house elf replied cautiously.

"She won't mind. Get her now please."

The creature vanished with a pop and he waited for her, pacing impatiently around the room. They came within five minutes; Poppy was still in her nightgown.

"He woke up, Poppy!"

She smiled, delight and relief obvious in her expression.

"Did he say anything?" she asked eagerly.

Severus smiled, thinking back on how it was such a typical 'James' thing to say.

"Ouch."

Poppy laughed.

"I'll just take a look at him then and call me again when he wakes up - I assume he's sleeping now."

He nodded.

"That's what I would have expected. He's going to make it, Severus, he's out of danger now."



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



When James woke again, Poppy was called almost immediately. She hurried down through the corridors and was let in by a remarkably cheerful-looking Salazar Slytherin at the entrance. Since there was no real urgency, they felt it was unfair to impose on the house elves any more than necessary.

When she came into the bedroom, he was sitting up in bed, listening carefully as Severus reported to him all that he knew of the recent events.

"Poppy!" James exclaimed. "How is everyone?"

"No one as bad as you, young man," she said sternly, hiding her inner relief behind a stern face that she knew that he could see through. "A number in hysterics, a few cuts and bruises but you were our real worry."

"Thank Merlin for that."

She smiled fondly at him: days unconscious, worrying everyone near to death themselves and he woke up and asked about everyone else as if he was no one of consequence.

"Now, how are you feeling James? Or do you want me to call you Harry now?"

He considered it for a moment.

"Either is fine. I suppose I'll have to use Harry now that everyone will know. I rather liked being James for a while."

"And how are you feeling," she prompted, refusing to give him any more time to consider his answer.

"A bit sore," he admitted. She sighed.

"'A bit sore,' the man says. Honestly! Is that muscles, burns, headache or something else."

"Aches, so muscles I suppose. I didn't think I'd done anything that strenuous."

"You've been in this bed for almost a week," she managed to say calmly, watching as Severus concealed a smile. "Of course you're stiff and tired."

"That means I can get out of bed then? I need to go and talk to Abe, who knows how he's taking it."

"You are staying right here for at least another twenty four hours," Poppy said sternly. "I am not going to have you ruining all the work Severus and I have put into you by letting you over tire yourself."

"I can get up tomorrow then?"

"You may walk to the living room and spend the day there. You may not leave these quarters."

"Poppy!" he moaned.



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



"I'm bored Severus," James complained, managing to whine like a five year old stuck indoors on a rainy day. "I want to go play outside."

Severus smiled and thought a moment.

"We've played chess five times."

"And you beat me all five, no need to rub it in."

"You've read."

"Of course, I've read."

"And you even managed to catch up with your marking."

"I wasn't that behind!"

"And talk me into a game of Exploding Snap."

"Which I won. I'm quite proud of that one."

"Are you up to receiving visitors?"

Harry groaned.

"I don't think I'm even allowed."

"Now think. Did Poppy explicitly forbid you from having visitors?"

"No…. She just told me I had to stay in our quarters."

"So what's the problem?"

"Well, who would want to visit me? I'm sure they're busy with class work and their families and stuff."

"Ron and Hermione Weasley are upstairs, waiting for you to wake up."

"Really! Does Ron know?"

"It was in the paper a few days ago."

"Oh. Well, can I have them down here then?"

A few minutes later, the two Gryffindors burst into the room. Hermione leapt onto the sofa and hugged James. He however had no eyes for her, although he hugged back quite amicably, as he saw Ron hovering uncomfortably in the background.

"Hello Ron," he said, smiling.

"Harry?"

"It's me alright. You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I've been better," James said with a grin as Hermione smacked him lightly on the side of his head.

"You get into a duel - without us I might add - and get yourself so badly burnt that you're unconscious for a week and all you have to say is that you've 'been better'."

"Well I have and it wasn't as much as a week."

"I give up," Hermione said, marching through to find Severus in the kitchen.

James and Ron looked at each other uncomfortably.

"I should have guessed," Ron said, sounding embarrassed.

"Not really. I'd been hiding for four years Ron, I was quite good at being James by that time. Hermione only guessed by fluke because she was watching me rather than Draco when we first met again."

"Still."

"Not your fault mate. So, what's happening upstairs? I'm not allowed to go up and Sev refuses to let me see the paper."

"Well, everyone knows you're you, if that makes any sense. The papers got hold of it and by the end of the day, everyone who didn't already know did. The kids at the school spread it around for all they were worth."

"I guess that's the end of any privacy I might have hoped for. How are people taking it?"

"Happy, I guess. Draco was storming around at one point until Hermione cornered him. I don't know what she said but it seemed to shut him up. You might want to talk to him when you're allowed. You're little protégé Alistair is getting very uncomfortable in all the attention so he's been hiding out in the Slytherin common room and the seventh years have been acting as bodyguards, much to Minerva's amusement."

"Oops."

"He'll live. He doesn't seem too shaken up about you being the Harry Potter though, product of being a Muggleborn first year, I suppose."

"That's one thing off my mind. Abe?"

"Aberforth Dumbledore? I don't think I've seen him at all . . . No, maybe I have. I caught sight of someone that might have been him with Draco a few days ago heading for the Great Hall. They've laid Albus's body out there - I think they're waiting for you before they hold the funeral."

"He seemed to be taking it okay?"

"Well, I'm not sure how well you can take losing your brother but he hasn't had a break down or tried to kill himself. There are people looking out for him at any rate."

"That's good. So how are the Cannons doing right now?" James asked, glad to get onto a subject where he was sure Ron would do most of the talking.

From the doorway into the kitchen, Severus and Hermione watched as they embarked on an emotive discussion of the Cannons' chances and latest games, moving around the mugs and pencils on the coffee table to demonstrate the various moves and tactics. Hermione sighed.

"Not again," she sighed. James turned to look at her and stuck out his tongue. She smiled as she saw Severus shaking his head ruefully.

"He's been like that since we told him he wasn't allowed to go outside. Apparently being 'grounded' requires that he reverts to his teenage years."



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



A couple of mornings later, Poppy reluctantly agreed that James was just about recovered enough to eat his meals in the Great Hall so long as he followed her instructions, took it slowly, didn't go anywhere near a broomstick and didn't go chasing after any more dark lords.

However, departing from the security of their rooms meant that the issue in everyone's minds would have to be addressed: who would be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. James invited Minerva down to discuss it with him and Severus, not wanting to take a job that he had always assumed would be passed on to her, as long-time deputy head and head of Gryffindor House. She came immediately, though James wasn't sure whether that was because she wanted to see him again for the first time after the battle or whether she had decided that it was his duty to become Headmaster and had mentally adapted already.

"Minerva," he said as she came through the portrait hole, smiling at her from where he sat enthroned on the sofa, leaning against Severus's shoulder. He pulled himself into an upright position.

"James," she said, eyes sparkling. "Harry."

"Either will do," he said, amused. "Please, take a seat."

"Have you made your decision yet?" she asked.

"I think, my dear deputy, that that is what I should be asking you."

She chuckled softly at that.

"I never had any intention of accepting the post. Without Albus . . . I will be retiring as soon as a replacement can be found."

James's mouth dropped open and he stared at her incredulously.

"You're retiring?" he asked. "But . . ."

"I assure you that I am quite old enough to be considering it. Unlike Albus, I have no wish to be thought immortal and while I love Hogwarts, enough is enough and my time is over."

"But who will be head of Gryffindor?"

"Whoever you choose, Harry, whoever you choose."

"Me?"

"He is being thick today, isn't he?" she observed to Severus, then turned back to the conversation. "You hold the wards, therefore you are headmaster. It is as simple as that. The only other one who could possibly take the post is Severus here, and I'm fairly sure that he loves his Slytherins far too much for that, don't you?"

"I have never wished to be Headmaster," Severus admitted. "I'm not diplomatic, I have a terrible reputation and to be quite frank I couldn't cope with the paperwork. Unless you can come up with someone more suitable, you're stuck with it."

There was silence for a moment.

"This is what Albus wanted, wasn't it?" James asked. The two older teachers glanced at each other.

"He had always hoped to leave the school in your hands," Minerva said at last. "This was just a little sooner than he'd anticipated."

"I suppose I'll accept then," he said reluctantly. "What about Filius and Pomona?"

"They won't leave their Houses and besides, Filius is too old to hold the wards - he's near two hundred now - and Pomona isn't magically strong enough despite being a master in her field."

"Don't the governors have a say in this?"

"Two words James," Severus said, smirking. "War hero. They won't go against you. You could decide to move Hogwarts to Alaska and they wouldn't object, not that I'm suggesting it. Scotland is quite cold enough for me."

"Fine, I'll be Headmaster. Minerva, you will stay until the end of term, won't you?"

"If you want me to, but no longer. I would rather pass on the responsibility of being Deputy Headmistress, though."

"Okay," James said slowly, thinking it over. "So that means I need a Defence teacher, at least a part time one, a deputy headmaster or headmistress, and a head of Gryffindor and Transfigurations teacher for next year. Defence, I can manage, I should think. What about deputy?"

"You should choose someone you trust implicitly," Minerva said, sounding amused. "Someone who is reliable and responsible and who you won't have serious disagreements with on a regular basis. They should be experienced and, since they would be responsible for a good deal of disciplinary action, they should be stern. Now, who does that sound like?"

"Sinistra," Severus said, straight-faced.

"Severus?" James asked, attempting to look pathetic. "I'd probably go soft on the Hufflepuffs if I had to cope with discipline."

"Merlin save us. If Filius and Pomona have no objections, I will take the post."

James and Minerva looked relieved. He really was the only plausible choice and with over a decade of experience as a teacher and house master, he had plenty of the skills necessary for dealing with the most troublesome of the Hogwarts students and indeed parents.

James smiled. That was it settled then: Minerva wished to retire and would at the end of the summer term, he had agreed to be Headmaster and Severus and been persuaded to be Deputy Headmaster in addition to his job as Slytherin head of house. Now he just needed to find a replacement for him as defence master and he'd be set until September. It wouldn't even need to be a full-time job, since he could teach some classes himself, at least in the short term.



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



That evening, Severus helped James carefully into the long black robe and purple lined black cape that was the traditional garb of Hogwarts' headmaster. James smiled: it was one that Albus had seldom, if ever, chosen to wear and indeed he could hardly imagine him swapping his garish red, yellow and purple concoctions for the sober academic robes.. Still, James wanted to make an impact, mostly so that he didn't have to answer so many questions, and the colours also worked for mourning clothes.

At precisely seven o'clock, he began to make his way slowly and painfully up to the Great Hall, Severus hovering next to him in case he should stumble. They had allowed half an hour, though the journey would normally have taken only ten minutes, as after so long in bed and with such tender skin, progress would be slow.

He paused outside, looking to his partner for reassurance. Severus smiled at him.

"Go on Harry," he said, using the seldom spoken name. "Only you could follow on from Albus."

James turned back to the doors and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and gathering his courage. He then stepped forwards into sight of the tables and slowly proceeded down the centre aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables.

The Hall fell silent as the students caught sight of him, murmured pointers spread the word around the room as heads turned, all staring at him in barely concealed awe. James smiled: and that was only knowing that he was Harry Potter and had just killed a man in this very Hall. Even many of the younger teachers would not know the significance of the robes, archaic as they were. The honour of telling them would be his alone and it was a responsibility that he both revered and dreaded.

When he reached the head table where, just a few months ago, he had first taken his place as a teacher, he moved to stand in front of Albus's chair. It was strange to think that he was the only other man to sit there in over half a century.

Seeing him there, his meaning clear, the Hall slowly burst into applause. The students were clapping enthusiastically, soon the teachers followed. After about a minute, the oldest Slytherins were standing, soon all the Slytherins and then the rest of the Hall. He allowed them to continue, a little moved by the standing ovation and not entirely sure that he deserved it. Still, if that was one way they would celebrate, let them have their fun.

At last, he looked to Severus, who had swapped places with Minerva to give him the seat at James's right hand. The Potions' master tapped gently on the side of his glass with a spoon and the sound rang out bell-like through the Hall, which fell immediately still.

"Thank you for that, everyone," James said, still stunned at the applause he had received. "The first thing I would like to say to you is that, as most of you will know by now, Albus Dumbledore was passed on. He was an old man and death came as no surprise to him. As per his requests, he will be buried in a private ceremony for his friends and family but there will be a memorial service this coming Sunday for those of you who wish to attend. He told me when I was eleven that 'death is the next great adventure' and, knowing him, he's probably loving it.

"With his death, a few changes in the school will be occurring. Professor McGonagall, who has served as Transfigurations Professor and Head of Gryffindor House for the past forty six years and Deputy Headmistress for the past twenty, has told me that she plans to retire at the end of the summer. As such, Professor Snape has, at her request, taken on the role of Deputy Headmaster and we are currently looking for a new Transfigurations professor with her help.

"According to tradition, I am your new Headmaster, and I have accepted this responsibility, though whether I will be able to live up to Professor Dumbledore, only time will tell. Like Professor Dumbledore, I can now be found at most times during the day in the headmasters' office and you are welcome to come and speak to me at any time: twist the gargoyle's ear and if I am there, I will let you through.

"Until a replacement Defence Master can be found, I will continue to teach you all and I assure you that anyone I select will have to meet very specific criteria. You need not have any fear that standards will slip.

"What else? Ah yes, Professor McGonagall has asked me to confirm the rumour that is currently circulating that I am Harry Potter. James Evans are my middle names and for now either Professor Potter or Professor Evans will be fine, whichever you find yourself more comfortable with. My house at Hogwarts, which has also been queried apparently, was Gryffindor…"

Loud cheers broke out from the Gryffindor table and the Slytherins looked very disappointed. James raised a hand to calm them down.

"However, I was one of those few children that the Sorting Hat has trouble with, and, to be quite frank, when I was eleven it could have been either Gryffindor or Slytherin. At University I was in Merlin House, which is their equivalent of Slytherin, although I was told I would do well in all four. This means that I will not favour any of the houses and will endeavour to be as fair as I can.

"That said, all that remains is to remind you that your exams will continue as normal and I wish you all the best. And now to our feast: tuck in."

He sat down, pausing a moment to consider the sensation of actually sitting in the hallowed chair, and waved his hand to signal to the house elves to send the food up to the hall. It appeared and chatter broke out again as they all dug into their meal. James smiled: maybe he could do this after all. He filled his glass and, catching Alistair's eye over at the Slytherin table, raised it to him. The boy flushed furiously. Hmm, maybe he wasn't quite so comfortable with being Harry Potter's adopted son that Minerva had given him the impression he was.



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



As they left the Great Hall, Severus cornered Alistair and ushered him quickly through into the antechamber off the Hall where James was waiting. This was likely to be an uncomfortable meeting, so they had decided to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"'lo Alistair," James said, smiling weakly at him. Truth be told he was rather nervous about the encounter himself.

"Hello sir."

"I thought you were calling me James, hmm?"

"Well, you said . . . I mean you're not . . ."

"You mean my real name is Harry, right? If you feel more comfortable with Harry, use it. To be honest, I don't mind."

"Oh. Okay."

"How are you getting on then?"

"I'm fine."

James sighed inwardly. The boy wasn't making it easy for him.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, to be honest I wasn't originally planning on telling anyone who I was. Maybe I should have, so you didn't find out like this, but all I can do now is apologise."

"That's okay," Alistair said, managing a smile himself. "It's just a bit odd, what with you being a hero and everything. Some people reckon you're training me to do something."

"I can assure that I'm not. My only motive was to ensure that you didn't grow up like I did. I'm actually hoping that I won't ever have to hear of any more dark lords in my lifetime but the chances of that are quite low. You're only twelve, you've plenty of time to make your own decision about what you want to do with your life. I doubt there's much you could want that would shock me."

"Even if I wanted to be . . . to be a Muggle . . . drain cleaner?"

"Well, I'd be a bit surprised about that one. You're intelligent enough to at least be the one who sits in the office and sends other people out to do that."

Alistair laughed.

"Are you coming down this Saturday like normal?" James asked after a moment.

"Why wouldn't I?"

James smiled at him. There was only really one other person that he had yet to speak to, and that was likely to be nasty. Draco Malfoy had never been a particularly forgiving person and while they had had a truce at school, being tricked by Harry Potter of all people was likely to be a sore point.



* * * * * * * * * *



Harry James Evans Potter, Headmaster of Hogwarts, twice Order of Merlin first class, Wizengamot member, High Warlock, Heir of Slytherin and Gryffindor and, most importantly to him, a proud adoptive father and godfather sat in his chair at the head table at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and watched the year begin.

It was nearing eight o'clock on the first of September2005 and the new school year was beginning. Just a moment ago, the great double doors at the far end of the Hall had swung open once more to allow the mass of black-robed students to take its rightful place at the House tables in front of him.

That morning, James had carefully transfigured a plain black robe into a vivid purple. While he wasn't about to put on one of Albus's robes in their garish yellows and lime greens and pinks, he would, for old time's sake, wear something brighter and more cheerful than his preferred forest green. Besides, purple was one of the colours associated with Hogwarts headmaster, even if it wasn't quite that shade.

They were chattering, talking loudly in their excitement and he smiled: the end of the previous term had been strained and unusually quiet - it was good to see things back to normal.

Half way down the Slytherin table, he could see his adopted son Alistair, talking as eagerly as the rest. They had finally adopted him using the full rights early that summer and he'd added the name 'Slytherin' to his own. Just the thought of Alistair made a warm glow spread over him. He had a family now, a real one and it was every bit as good as he imagined and much more.

As his eyes roamed over the other tables, he was reminded of the missing Ravenclaw sixth year, Walter Smethley, the boy who had invited Death Eaters into the school. Removed immediately to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, he had been left there for two weeks under close supervision partly to allow him to consider his misdeeds but more importantly to allow them to get Hogwarts back on her feet before being distracted. When he had come to see him, they had had a long talk about purebloods and muggleborns and the genetics behind it all, and he had left behind a much quieter young 'pureblood'. After that, he had sought out Draco and asked him to take the brat in for the year in the hope of teaching him the error of his ways.

Dear Draco: their first meeting after the battle had gone surprisingly well, possibly because Hermione had stunned them, levitated them into the room and tied them securely to chairs. Restricted from magic use as he had been because of his injuries, he had been unable to free himself and the discussion had been civilised - mere shouting rather than cursing. In the end, he had grovelled, figuratively speaking, and Draco had accepted his apology. The next day, well out of Hermione's way, they had removed themselves from the castle to indulge in their punch up. She had not been happy when they returned.

Minerva wasn't sitting beside him though, and her loss was something he was constantly reminded of, despite the fact that all of her customary duties were being performed perfectly by her successors in her various jobs. After a rather tearful farewell party just after the end of the summer term, she had packed her bags and travelled back to her family home on one of the west coast islands. He had asked which one but she had looked at him and decided that with his admittedly rudimentary knowledge of Scottish geography, it would be safer if he kept in contact using owl post. She was now, apparently, contentedly enjoying her retirement and was considering opening a home for mistreated Kneazles with her childhood friend, Arabella Gooderson, now Arabella Figg.

Looking along the staff table now, he smiled at the two new staff members. Really it had been extremely lucky that they had been able to come at such short notice and he had told them as much, only to have them smile indulgently at him and say that both they and their previous employers would have moved mountains to make it possible. Ron, a relatively high ranking Auror, had taken on Defence Against the Dark Arts up to sixth year - the seventh years would be taken by the Headmaster himself - and Hermione had taken on Transfigurations. It had always been one of the harder subjects to find a good teacher in, partly because it wasn't as glamorous as the Dark Arts job or as technically simple as Muggle Studies. He was confident that she could handle it and had made them joint Heads of Gryffindor House, with himself acting as an advisor should they decide that they needed one.

The side door opened now and a much loved figure in long black robes strode in at the head of an endearingly timid looking line of first years. The older students fell immediately silent, probably already anticipating the feast they would receive when the Sorting was over. Severus Snape, despite objecting at the start, was turning out to be a Deputy Headmaster at least of Minerva's standard already, his careful organisation making life much easier for the both of them. He was also proving to enjoy family life much more than he would have anticipated as a student.

The Headmaster smiled as he looked at the tiny children, looking in wonder at all of the new things around them. Even those from wizarding families were unlikely to have seen something of Hogwarts standards, the ceiling alone was a hugely powerful piece of magic that, to his knowledge, no one had been able to replicate perfectly. In the flickering light from the candles high above them, they looked pale and wide-eyed.

As soon as they stopped, Severus easily retrieved the little stool from the end of the staff table and placed the Sorting Hat carefully on it: ragged or not, it was the very hat that Godric Gryffindor had worn and all of the teachers treated it with great respect. As he stepped back, the entire Hall began to stare at the hat, the first years slowly following suit, though looking confused as to why. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing.

The teachers listened intently, praying that there would be no warnings or ultimatums as there had been in previous years. As soon as it finished, James glanced down the table at Hermione, who he knew would be able to retrieve any important nugget from the song. She shook her head, relief clearly shown on her face, and they turned back to observe the first years, joining in the riotous applause from the students with a little more decorum. The hat bowed to each of the four tables and then was perfectly still again, looking deceivingly like a normal, mundane, old hat.

Severus now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment covered in names that had been painstakingly copied out from the Book at the same time as the invitation letters.

"When I call your name, you will come forward and sit on the stool," he said, face solemn. "You will then put on the hat and be Sorted into your House. Brocklehurst, Jonathan!"

A tiny boy with a mop of shaggy brown hair stepped out of the line and edged towards the stool with a look of extreme terror. He sat down, put the hat on his head and there was a long pause.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat shouted and the boy's shoulders relaxed. He removed the hat and scurried over to the table which was beckoning him over.

The Sorting continued, the ancient ritual just the same as it was every other year and had been for over a millennia. When it was over, Severus moved the stool out of the way again and came to take his seat on James's right hand side, smiling slightly as he met his eyes. James stood up and clapped his hands. The Hall fell silent.

"Welcome! Welcome all, to another year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our feast, I am calling for a toast. To Albus Dumbledore, the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has known for a very long time!"

"Albus Dumbledore!" the students chorused, downing their glasses of pumpkin juice as one. The older ones in particular were serious, the looks on their faces strange; the youngest, especially the first years, looked confused but went along with the rest of the school. James inclined his head to them and beamed down at them.

"Now there is only one thing left for me to say now: enjoy the feast! Thank you!"

He sat back down, smiling at the clapping and cheering. Waving his hand, over his plate, he signalled to the house elves that they were ready for the food and it appeared magically on the plates. If anything, the cheering got even louder, then fell down to a murmur as they tucked into the delicious Hogwarts' fare.

Down at the tables, the ghosts were introducing themselves to the youngest. On the Slytherin table, a couple of them were looking nervous as the Bloody Baron took his seat between them, the Hufflepuffs were already chatting cheerfully to the Fat Friar. The Gryffindors, while talking happily enough to Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington were eyeing the Bloody Baron with great interest.

At last, when they had eaten their fill, James waved his hand again and the remnants of the puddings vanished, leaving the plates completely clean. He stood up and the Hall fell silent once more.

"Just a few more words now that we are no longer likely to expire of hunger, and yes I do remember how it feels at your age. There are one or two start of term notices for me to give you.

"First years should note that the forest in the grounds is called the Forbidden Forest for a reason and is banned to all students. A few of our older students should also pay attention to this reminder. Mr Filch, our caretaker, has also asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. The list of banned items can, as always, be found on his office door and to the best of my knowledge, includes every item sold in Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes.

"Quidditch trials will be held this year in the second week of term and will be organised by our capable Quidditch captains. Should you be interested in playing speak to them and put your name on the sign up list that should be going up soon in your common rooms. First years are not allowed to participate in trials and will only be offered a place on the team in extreme circumstances and after due consultation between staff members.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sign the school song!"

James inwardly sighed at this but it was a school tradition and had been one of Albus's favourites. It was no big deal for him to allow it to be sung once a year. He flicked his wand and a golden ribbon snaked out of the end to it, rose up and shaped itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," he said, "and off we go!"

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."

The noise was terrible. Simply, utterly dreadful, there was no denying it. Whichever idiot had thought up the idea of a school song without a set tune had been completely mad, bonkers, dotty and cursed by every generation of teachers since him. Unless of course, he'd done it as a way of getting his revenge on those of his students to take up teaching posts themselves.

As always, everyone finished the song at different times. When the last children, a gang of sixth year Gryffindors, finished, the Hall burst into applause. Hiding a wince at his newly brought on headache, James joined in. As it died down, he spoke again.

"Bedtime now," he said with relief. "Off you go."

He waited, watching while the first years were shepherded off by the prefects and the others left in their threes and fours for their home away from home in their dormitories. James wasn't stupid, he knew that the older years would be up a couple of hours yet, but the little ones needed their rest.

When they'd all gone, he sat back in his chair and smiled. He'd made it without embarrassing himself or Albus's memory. Severus came to put a hand on his shoulder. James turned to look up and smiled at the promise of things to come. He'd never wanted a boring life and as Headmaster of a wizarding school, he was guaranteed never to have one.