Master of Two Worlds

Chapter 28 – Master of Two Worlds

This still doesn't belong to me. I'm only playing. Hermione and Severus are welcome to stay; the rest will be returned.

Thank you, Melusin, as always.

Because of the boon or due to his experience, the hero may now perceive both the divine and human worlds.

(Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces)

Hermione stared at the two glowing stones in her hand.

"So you think the room gave me what I wanted? But I was certain I'd made the wrong choice as soon as I went through that door," she said. "Now, I'm not so sure. I know you'll think I'm crazy, but there's that knowledge in my heart..."

She paused and looked into Severus' eyes. He didn't blink or look away. He kept himself wide open, but she didn't take advantage. Instead, she seemed to realize that she was still lying on top of him, encircled by his arms. She blushed and freed herself.

"Sorry," she murmured and stood up.

Severus sighed. His body was of the opinion that the places where Hermione had been just a moment before were now deprived of something. It felt cold without her in his arms.

"I love you, you know," he blurted out. "I'm not good at saying it, obviously, but I do, with all my heart. But I need you to understand why I'm reluctant..."

"Don't..." Hermione whispered, but she smiled as she hushed him with her hand on his lips. "I promise you that I'll listen, but not here, not with that room still messing with our minds, or our hearts... because..."

"Because you think the room compelled me to tell you that I love you, is that it?" Severus surprised himself by not being angry.

She nodded, looking sad.

"I'll say it to you every day for the rest of our lives," Severus promised with a small smile, "but I agree; the room is messing with our heads. For some reason, I know, in my heart, that I made the wrong choice and assistance was denied, but apparently, my love was solid enough to be allowed to leave the room. Don't ask me how I know this..."

Hermione nodded. "And I know that I made the right choice and that we are on the right track with our potion and our ritual. These stones will help us, I'm certain. We'll have to trust our intuition for once, I suppose. That won't be easy for either of us." She smirked.

He smirked back. "No reference books, no logical reasoning, just relying on what feels right. What a stretch for analytical minds like ours. You wouldn't happen to know why my choice wasn't right? I only wished the best for you."

Hermione stared at him. After a while, she asked, "You saw me with someone else, didn't you? It was calm and peaceful, and you weren't in the picture? And the other choice would have been passion, fights, danger, more passion and a fierce, deep, all-consuming love?"

"Yes." She didn't need to know that he had died in the vision he had chosen.

"I chose the option with the danger and the passion, and the burning love." She sighed and stepped close to him, putting her head on his chest. As if of their own volition, his arms circled around her.

"There's no denying that this is what I would wish for our future," she sighed into his chest. "But I thought I was being too selfish, chosing danger for you over a calm life without me."

"Maybe we're supposed to be selfish when it comes to love," Severus mused. "That's actually something Miss Lovegood said to me when we talked... that I need to learn to accept myself. The Room taught me the same lesson in different words. I couldn't be happy if you're not happy, and maybe you can't be happy when I'm not happy?" He gently raised her chin and looked into her eyes.

She nodded, and he sighed again. "Being concerned about one's own happiness as well as that of the other seems to be the healthy choice, then."

"The regard for our own integrity and uniqueness, the love and understanding for our own self, cannot be separated from our regard and love for all other living beings," Hermione said firmly.

"What? That sounds like..."

"Quoting a textbook, yes. Although it isn't a textbook. It's from a book my parents have on their bookshelves. I read it last summer."

"It is called The Art of Loving. I read it, too, back in the Seventies."

"And dismissed it?"

"I can't remember." He smirked.

Hermione giggled. "Never mind. Much of it is horribly outdated, but there are some excellent insights about love in there, too. Maybe that's just it. We need to love ourselves before we are able to love others, and if you can't love yourself, The Room thinks you're lacking something."

"You find me lacking?"

"Not me, The Room." She smiled up into his eyes.

"You know, I really would like to propose to you now," he said, touching her nose gently with his own big, crooked facial protrusion.

"No," she said, being serious again. "I don't want a husband who needs to be coerced into wanting to love me, as well meaning as The Room may be. We need to get going, wake up Harry and organize the Underground." She must have seen the hurt look in his eyes because she very lightly kissed him on the lips and added, "When we're free of this manipulative piece of architecture, we'll talk. Promise."

It had to be enough. Severus exhaled and let her go.

---

"These are the Stone Things?" Ron Weasley held the crystals up against the light and studied them intensely. The group of conspirators had gathered in the Underground caves once again.

"They might be. Maybe not The Stone Things, but just Stone Things... They can't be the same as the ones in the epic: those were destroyed," Hermione lectured.

"Do we have all the ingredients now?" Kingsley asked. He was none the worse for wear. All three would-be spies had escaped their ordeal mostly unharmed, although the knee in Moody's good leg had been painfully twisted.

"We still don't know what to make of the sticks and the mud," Ron said.

"They are old, old magic, mentioned in the oldest African Ifa divination poems, in fact, and they don't always have to be taken literally. We overlooked this connection because we were so focused on the spell Voldemort used for his resurrection. It may not have anything to do with that, after all," Hermione mused, but didn't sound convinced.

"I think that there must be a connection to the Dark ritual." Severus knew that he was right, but he was reluctant to claim that he 'just knew'; the effect of The Locked Room still unsettled him. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this somewhere.

"If blood, flesh and bones are mud, stick and stones, then the bones are the equivalent of the stones. This would mean that it's not the father's bones, but the mother's bones that are needed for the potion, and not literally, but quite figuratively," he continued to sum up what they knew.

"The flesh of the servant would be the equivalent of the sticks. But in our version, it's not servant but brother, and what does flesh have to do with sticks? I can understand the connection between mother and father, but brother and servant? And what about the mud? Mud is blood? Foe is foe in both versions.

"In more modern divination texts, mud is often described as a bit of soil. Sacred soil, meaningful soil. Maybe a bit of soil from my magical herb garden would do?" Severus suggested.

"I think you're right," Hermione said with a small smile. She seemed to be just as reluctant as Severus to announce that 'she knew it in her heart' that this was the right thing to do. The influence of the room seemed persistent and reliable. Severus wondered how long that would last. He seriously hoped that it would stop meddling with their hearts as soon as the potion was brewed and the rituals performed.

"We'll have to think about the sticks later," Minerva interrupted. "We have to talk to the Goblins first. They don't like our suggestion for a banking boycott."

"But they've always wanted more rights and that would be a way of getting them. What else do they want now?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. We'll just have to talk to them." Minerva shrugged. "In fact, I was hoping that maybe Severus and Hermione would go..."

Severus sighed, looked at Hermione, and they both nodded. "We'll go. But what about the house-elf strike? I suppose their resistance is even greater?"

"Yes. But we never really expected them to go against their masters, did we? We'll need to lead them to the idea of freedom gently and slowly. For now, they consider freedom to be unwanted and uncomfortable. They need to learn to think and care for themselves. Without our help and that of elves like Dobby and Alouette, there won't be any progress." It was Percy who explained.

Severus was surprised to see the young man taking up the banner of the elves. Hermione's ill-advised, but good-natured, SPEW campaign must have made more of an impression on her fellow students than he'd thought.

"All right, back to the Goblins. What exactly is it that they don't like?"

"I don't understand these things," Minerva said. "You'd better ask them yourself. Perhaps they've heard that Arthur is about to step down..."

"But Luna and Rita haven't published it yet."

"Gossip travels fast, and the disappearance of Arthur and four Ministry employees all at once would be subject to a lot of gossip."

"How is Arthur, anyway?" Kingsley asked. He had come out of the triple Imperius Curse only the day before.

"Much better, but still very confused." Minerva replied. "He still repeats phrases Umbridge must have whispered into his ears. But he's on the way to being his old self again. He knows he's made many mistakes, but he can't figure out why he made them. The good care of his children and the absence of that horrible woman will surely improve his condition even further."

"Speaking of Umbridge... Has she still not reappeared anywhere?" Hermione asked.

"Not a trace," Kingsley replied.

Severus felt sick. He didn't really want to know what The Room had done to Umbridge. The same could easily have happened to Hermione or himself. If The Room hadn't tested them individually... Umbridge was the other extreme on the love scale. The love she had within her was entirely for herself with no regard whatsoever for other people. There had been no way of knowing which type of love the room favoured and in which way it would respond.

He remembered how Albus had always described The Room: no one could get in, and no one had been known to get out. And no one on the outside had known about the way The Room judged people.

A glance at Hermione showed him that she must have been engaged in similar thoughts. All colour had drained from her face, and she was biting her lips.

They really had been extremely lucky to get out alive, never mind being awarded the Stone Things. They had lost their wands, but that was a small price to pay. He wondered if they would have been able to access The Room at all if it hadn't been for Hermione's desperate pleading for his life when Umbridge was on her mad killing spree.

It was lucky for them that The Room reacted to mature love. Severus may have been lacking in self-love, but he loved deeply, and Hermione loved him back. Their love for each other was strong enough to compel the room to help them and let them go.

Hold that thought, Severus thought. This is important. The room could be compelled by true love. The love between them was true. This wasn't a one-sided manipulation, but an interaction. They'd affected the room as it had affected them. There was no compulsion there; it was more of a guide, a tool that helped them to understand what they already knew. Seen that way, he found the whole experience a lot less creepy.

A room that could interact with a person's thoughts and desires wasn't as unique as it had appeared at first, either. There was the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, after all, which was another brilliant example of architectural magic, although it seemed to lack the sense of purpose that The Love Room seemed to have. The Room seemed to have swallowed Umbridge, and if he and Hermione hadn't measured up... no, it wasn't all that simple. That wasn't just another Room of Requirement: this was something else. It was another brilliant magical artifact, but nothing mystical.

Severus smirked slightly. Hermione would be relieved to find a rational explanation for the workings of the room. He wondered if the Room of Requirement could have produced the Stone Things with less hassle, but was interrupted in his musings when Minerva held out the Portkey that would get them to Griphook's office at Gringotts.

---

"But if we withhold the service, wizards will start their own banks," Griphook wailed. "That's not to be borne..."

"So?" said Hermione. "Why not? You get wands, and competiton. That's how a free market works... You can't have your cake and eat it, too. If you want to enjoy the same rights and freedom as magical humans, you'll have to obey the same laws, and of course, you'd want to be represented in the Ministry and the Confederation of Wizards... You'll have to trade fairly. No more reclaiming of heirlooms; there'll need to be transparent contracts."

"We'll have to think about it. But is it even necessary? We hear that Minister Weasley plans to retire? With a new Minister, things could get back to normal."

"Do you really want to keep the old status quo?" Severus asked. "There'll be more rebellions and threats. Wouldn't it be about time to not only be allies in war, but also friends in peace? We are magical brethren, after all."

Severus heard Hermione gasp. His eyes darted to her face. She was staring wide-eyed at Griphook.

"He is right," she said carefully. "We must all be related. There are Goblin-human marriages and they produce children. Professor Flitwick was essential in bringing Goblins and the Underground together, wasn't he?"

Severus nodded.

She raised her eyes to Severus and gave him a meaningful look. "Goblins aren't our servants; they're our brothers and sisters."

Now it was Severus' turn to gasp. It felt as though veils were falling from his eyes. But of course... He turned to Griphook.

"Maybe we should leave this discussion for a later time when our Underground economists are available, and we know what the Ministry's policy will be under a new Minister."

Griphook nodded solemnly.

"One last thing, though."

"What is it?"

"How do you feel about helping Harry Potter?"

"What do you mean?"

Hermione explained to the Goblin what they knew and guessed about Harry's state.

"You want a drop of blood from me, and my flesh? I don't think..."

"No, that doesn't sound right," Severus interrupted. "A drop of blood, perhaps... although I'm certain that Dobby would only be too willing to provide it, but I think it'd be better if it came from a Goblin."

"Why is that?" Griphook asked. "That ridiculous fountain in the Ministry shows house-elves or centaurs..."

"Because Goblins seem to be more closely related. Who's ever heard of a child with a centaur and a human as parents? Or a house-elf human mix?"

"I see what you mean," Griphook said. "And that makes the way wizards suppress Goblin rights even worse, don't you think?"

"It's certainly something that needs to be addressed by the Ministry," Hermione agreed, nodding vigorously.

"But this is neither the time nor the place for that discussion." Severus brought them back on topic. "We don't have the authority to promise anything, either. All we can do will be done, though. The Quibbler will only be too glad to write about this."

Griphook nodded.

"Better than nothing," he mumbled. "If it is true. Goblins can't trust wizards. Wizards cheat."

"Are you still not over that business with Ludo Bagman?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"It was a lot of gold, and he hasn't paid it back. Do you call this just?"

"Of course not. But we're not him."

She paused when she saw the Goblin's suspicious sneer.

"I know; history is against us. Each side thinks the other cheats, but this isn't what we're talking about. We want to help Harry, and Harry certainly never harmed any of you."

"Harry Potter can be trusted." Griphook nodded. "And the Underground can be trusted, too. We helped before; we shall help again. I will give a drop of blood. But I will be there when the potion is brewed. I want to see that the blood really goes into the potion."

"Excellent!" Hermione beamed. "That's even better than just the drop of blood."

"I will not give you my flesh," Griphook growled.

"It's not what we need. But I think that your presence while we brew will be good for Harry. We haven't quite figured out the connection yet. Between flesh of the servant and the sticks."

"Goblins don't have sticks." Griphook said. "But if we had wands..."

Severus started to cough, and Hermione blushed furiously.

"The blood will be enough, thank you," she said quickly. "We'll figure out the rest."

---

"Sticks and stones bind the soul together. They're Tjuringa," Sabrina said when Hermione and Severus had returned to the Robin Hood cave. "It is a belief of the Australian Aborigines. Very spiritual, they are." She beamed.

"That could be an explanation for the connection to the soul, indeed," Severus mused. "Some people never made the strict separation between magical follk and Muggles and between magic and religion. Magic is often interwoven into their beliefs and rituals. The Tjuringa would fit the pattern. It is very ancient magic."

"That still doesn't tell us what the stick is," Ron interrupted the theorizing.

"Right," Hermione said. "Any ideas?"

"I think you are taking the biological brother interpretation too far," Luna said. "I think that all the magical brethren should be involved, not only the Goblins. Does it really matter that they are more closely related to us than the others? Isn't that discrimination against the other two?"

"You could be right," Severus agreed. "Dobby would be more than willing to help."

"That's what I'm afraid of," said Hermione. "He'd willingly give a pound of flesh for Harry."

"Instead of wild guesses, why don't we invite a representative of each and discuss the problem with them?" Minerva suggested.

This was generally agreed upon, and the meeting came to a close.

---

Dobby, Firenze and Griphook were the representatives of the magical brethren who were invited to the Underground council.

While Dobby and Griphook felt quite at home in the caves––they had signed the same contract the Underground members had a while ago––Firenze was feeling exremely ill at ease. He pranced around nervously, flicking his tail from one side to the other, and no one dared to stand too close else they'd be whipped or trampled. Signing the contract was the least of his problems; he felt trapped in the underground passages, and even the large central cave area did nothing to make him feel comfortable.

Severus wondered if they should have enchanted the ceiling as had been done in the Appin cave, but the post-war Underground hadn't considered the caves permanent dwellings as they'd had to be during the war, but more of a refuge, a shelter, to be used for a short time only.

Technically, it wouldn't have been necessary to meet here. Arthur had stepped down two days ago, giving his poor health after the prolongued exposure to the triple Imperius Curse as his reason. He gave an exclusive interview to the Quibbler, where he told his story of grief, hope and betrayal. He publicly apologized for the treatment Underground members had received, and proclaimed that Hermione and Severus weren't undesirables nor being considered lawbreakers any longer, but instead should be rewarded for their services to the wizarding world.

Severus would have laughed had he not been so sorry for Arthur. The poor man was broken and very likely would remain so. Molly had been the light of his life, and after her death, the world had become bleak. And after Severus' own recent insights into the nature of love, he really couldn't blame the man. However, understanding for Arthur didn't mean that Severus automatically trusted him. The injuries imposed on them by the former Minister were too deep to be shrugged away lightly. Severus preferred security over publicity.

"Harry Potter needs my blood? I give my life for Harry Potter," Dobby piped up.

Severus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes while Hermione smiled gently and explained to the elf that a drop of blood really was enough.

"But you needs flesh. The poem says flesh of the servant. It is a pleasure to serve Harry Potter. He can have my flesh."

"It isn't meant literally, Dobby." Severus could only admire Hermione's patience. "We're only taking the blood because it is considered the essence of a person's soul. We won't take flesh from anyone. That's dark, predatory magic. Harry wouldn't want to be revived by something like that now, would he?"

"So you want a drop of blood from each of us?" Firenze asked, baffled. "Why centaurs? We never were your servants."

"No, but you are our brethren. Magical beings with just as much or more intelligence as wizards and your own type of magic. I think the ritual wants to unite all magical beings in a peaceful, loving manner. That's why we've asked the three of you. You are all friends of Harry and would want him to be revived. You know that if it were our blood that was needed––" She gestured at herself, him and the other members of the Underground who were assembled. "––we all would give it gladly to get Harry back. But it isn't. All of this is more about kinship than friendship, I think."

"But He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used flesh of his servant," Griphook added grumpily. "I'll not give more than a drop of blood."

"We understood that the first time you said it, thank you," Severus grumbled and was met with an impatient glance from Hermione and a dark look from Griphook.

"I asked all three of you to come here because I hoped that one of you would be able to give us advice on how to interpret the rhyme with the mud, stick and stones," Minerva interrupted the argument. "We've established that the stones are the bones of Mother Earth, and we've found the Stone Things already."

"The Stone Things?" Firenze's eyes had widened, and his tail flicked excitedly.

"Well, Stone Things, in any case. I doubt that they are The Stone Things from legend... and we've also figured out that the mud could be soil from a special place or somesuch. So Severus, being the former foe, suggested we take some magical soil from his herb garden. It seems a sound idea. Certain types of soil are often used in healing potions. What still puzzles us are the sticks."

"We don't have sticks," Griphook said defiantly. "We only have gold."

Firenze looked thoughtful. "We have sticks, of a sort."

"You do?" All eyes were on Firenze now.

"Our bows are made of blackthorn, a tree that is dear to us. And our arrows are made from oak. I have a few left from the holy oak we call Green George. I inherited them from my father. Green George does not often give us wood, and in my generation, no one was given direction to find him."

"Who gives the direction?" Hermione asked, doubts being written all over her features. Severus would have snorted had he not been so interested in Firenze's reply himself.

"The stars, who else?" Firenze said haughtily. "Of course, wizards have always been too impatient to see what the stars have to tell them, but to centaurs, they are an open book. And one in almost every generation is given the secret. He's the only one who understands, even clearly sees, the constellations. Green George knows how to defend himself."

"So you think wood from Green George would be the kind of stick we're looking for?"

"It might be."

"So we'll have to figure out how to find the tree and how to compel it to give us a bit of its wood." Hermione didn't look happy.

"Don't call him 'it', else you won't get anything. You won't even get close," Firenze said with a frown. "That tree is male."

"If you say so," Hermione said and threw up her hands placatingly. "It still doesn't tell me how to find him and how to get a piece of his wood."

"I shall give you one of my arrows. Do you doubt that I want to help Harry Potter?"

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "You would do that? Such a precious gift? Oh, that's wonderful. Thank you so much. We won't forget it."

"Just get on with it," Firenze muttered.

"It's even better than the blood," Luna threw in. She had followed the conversation silently, but very attentively."

"What do you mean?" Severus asked.

"Well, giving up something that is dear to your heart is a sacrifice, isn't it? It's an unbloody sacrifice, but no less potent, apparently. Only, the Death Eaters didn't understand that."

"I see your point," Severus conceded. "You think a sacrifice is required from the magical brethren?"

"Dobby gladly gives a sock for Harry Potter."

"Thank you, Dobby." Now Severus really did roll his eyes.

"Very good. And with Dobby's sock, Griphook's goodwill and Firenze's arrow, we seem to be complete, don't we?" Luna looked questioningly at Griphook, who fidgeted on his seat.

"If it must be a sacrifice, I shall contribute for my kind as well. Obviously, it needs to be something that is painful to let go."

"Uhm, in a way, it seems to be, yes," Hermione replied.

"Very well, then. I shall give you a small piece of Goblin Gold. It is dear to me like my own heart. Don't sully it, please."

"You're very generous," Hermione whispered, deeply moved..

"I may yet regret it," Griphook grumbled.

"We'll do everything in our power to make it worth your while," Hermione promised, and the other wizards and witches present nodded. Griphook looked, at best, a little less grim.

"I feel bad, you know," Ron suddenly said. "Magical brethren are making sacrifices, and from us, Harry's best friends, nothing is required. He is like a brother to me. I'd like to contribute something."

"Right, me too." Everyone in the cave murmured their agreement. They were all more than willing to give something of theirs for Harry. So much love. Severus sighed.

He didn't want to admit it, but he almost felt jealous. How could a young man like Harry Potter, admittedly a brave and heroic young man, but otherwise rather ordinary––how could he draw so much love to his person? What was it about him that made people in the wizarding world love him so much?

It couldn't have been his fame, nor his intelligence, nor his magical skills. Was it his unwavering determination to go through with a task someone else had set for him? Was it his devotion, his disregard for his own life, all with the goal to free the wizarding world from its torturer?

That must have been it. Everyone looked to Harry as their saviour. As long as he was around and willing to shoulder a task that should never have been given to a child, everyone else felt that things were taken care of and no further action from them was required. It was a vicious circle since it created a laziness that could easily be abused by the next would-be usurper.

Luckily for the boy, he had found real friends, and quite a few, too. Their love was what made all the difference. They had given Potter the strength and stability to carry on even when he'd felt defeated. They had also provided the much needed distraction from a gloomy fate. Someone must have cast Lumos in Severus' head since he suddenly saw clearly that the ritual which would wake Harry must be successful because it would be carried out with so much love. The details would matter, but not as much as he had initially thought. He glanced at Hermione and wondered what she thought about the sudden flood of offers for sacrifice.

Hermione frowned and looked puzzled. She seemed to have felt Severus' gaze, though, since she suddenly looked up and directly at him. Understanding passed between them. Her lips quirked into a small smile before she turned to Ron.

"I think it's a great idea, Ron. I can't imagine that it'd hurt if we added a drop of your blood, and yes, one from both of you, too." She nodded at Dudley and Neville, who had offered theirs as well. "I want to add a drop of mine, too. I love him like a sister."

"So do I," said Luna.

"And me," piped up Sabrina.

"We'd better draw a line somewhere," Severus grumbled, suppressing a snort. "If all the Weasleys feel like siblings, we'd have to bathe Potter in a pool of blood. That'd get dangerously close to a Dark ritual."

Hermione grinned. "I don't think there's any danger of that. Ron can stand in for the Weasleys, and for everybody else. There'll be enough opportunity for them to show their love when Harry is awake again."

"When will the brewing start?" Firenze asked. "I would prefer to leave this depressing place as soon as possible, and if you don't need me right now..."

"I'd like to read up some more on the adoption ritual. How about we go through with it next week?" Hermione suggested.

They all agreed, and Firenze turned on the spot. Soon the clip-clopping of hooves was fading in the distance: the centaur couldn't get out of the constricting caves fast enough.

Severus looked around, intent on talking to Hermione, but she had left as quickly as Firenze. Disappointed, Severus accompanied Minerva to the Apparition point.

---

A week later, Harry's friends gathered again in the Robin Hood cave. A large cauldron had been half-filled with spring water and been heated up until the water had reached body temperature. Harry had been brought from his chamber and was now half-sitting, half-slumping against Ginny, who held him tenderly.

Minerva, wearing a long, wide coat crouched at Harry's back and enveloped him with her arms, closing the coat around both of them.

"Look here, everyone. I'm pregnant," she exclaimed and chanted the first part of the adoption spell.

Harry's eyes flew open, and he sat up on his own, but his eyes were vacant. His mind and soul clearly hadn't returned home yet.

Encouraged by the immediate effect of the ritual, Minerva stood up, dragging Harry up with her. Although he lacked the strength to walk, Minerva managed to get both of them to the cauldron and said, "I shall now give birth. This child will be my own, in my heart and before the law, and I shall be his mother. He shall have a mother's love and care as long as I live."

Everyone present answered, "We hear you."

Minerva wiped away a tear and smiled, holding out her left hand over the cauldron.

"Soul of the mother," Hermione recited and pricked Minerva's palm with a small silver dagger. A drop of blood fell into the cauldron.

"Love of the brother," Severus had taken over. He carefully pricked the palms of the magical brethren and those who felt like brothers to Harry.

"And the sister," he chanted with a smile, and added Hermione's, Luna's and Sabrina's blood.

Ron Weasley took the dagger out of Severus' hand, who held his own hand over the cauldron.

"And forgiveness of foe." Severus blood was added to the mix.

"Take the essence of each and let it flow," Hermione chanted, reverently took the oak arrow out of Firenze's hands and stirred the potion three times clockwise.

"Blood, flesh and bone are like mud, stick and stone," she continued and dropped the Stone Things into the liquid. Firenze scraped a few slivers from the arrow. Griphook added a small gold nugget, and Dobby threw a sock into the brew.

Finally, Severus added a handful of soil from his garden at Spinner's End.

"They must be together and not alone," Hermione chanted and stirred the potion three times anti-clockwise.

Now it was Minerva's turn again.

She waddled up a small platform that had been erected at the side of the cauldron for that purpose and sqatted over it. Gently pushing Harry out of the cloak, she released him into the potion.

"Being born from the sea shall set Harry free," Hermione cried, and everybody held their breath when a dense fog arose from the cauldron and hid Harry from view.

Time seemed to stand still. Had the ritual been inefficient? Severus wondered. A glance to his side showed him Hermione nervously biting her lower lip.

Minerva looked up from the cauldron with a worried frown, then she took a deep breath.

"Harry Potter the Mighty, you are not of my womb,

But now I speak to you along with your sacred votaries.

Your friends, your brethren, your former foe..

I have taken Harry Potter for my son I have taken."(2)

She had hardly finished when a loud cry came from within the fog. It eerily resembled the first cry of a newborn.

The mist began to swirl and slowly fade, eventually revealing a very surprised looking, naked Harry, who was smeared with a sticky, reddish substance...a mixture of soil and blood, Severus thought.

Everyone laughed and clapped; a release of tension as much as from joy. Harry, only now realizing that he was naked, quickly covered his privates with both hands, which caused even more laughter.

"Look at my son," Minerva exclaimed, and everybody clapped and shouted congratulations. She took her wide coat off and draped it around Harry.

Harry watched them wide-eyed and more than a bit alarmed. "Have you all gone bonkers?" he asked, but was silenced by Ginny, who threw herself at him and kissed him.

Severus swallowed hard and wiped his eyes. The atmosphere in the cave was so full of the purest love that he couldn't suppress his tears. All the women present cried, and neither Weasley nor Longbottom seemed ashamed of their tears, either. Dobby sobbed noisily, and Firenze held a handkerchief––Severus couldn't even begin to guess where that had been hidden––and blew his nose into it like a trumpet.

Severus realized that what they were now experiencing was what Albus had called the greatest power of them all. It was a term that had been discussed often, but had hardly been experienced by anyone. He felt fortunate, privileged, elated. It was a feeling he'd never forget. His chest felt ready to burst, and the tears in his eyes weren't sad ones. The others must have felt likewise since Luna and Hermione were laughing out loud, and Minerva was smiling through her tears. The love in the cave was tangible, just as it had been in The Room. But it was something you could only experience, and appreciate, when you opened up to it. It wasn't a coercion: there was nothing even slightly resembling force here. Love, and nothing else, had brought Potter back. It was that simple.

Once again, Severus marvelled at how Potter managed to get people to love him so much. He'd had the protection through the love of his mother. He'd had a part of her soul. Now he had a second mother, and the ritual they had performed had worked because of the love of all his friends. An uninterested group, brewing the same potion, reciting the same verses, would have achieved nothing. Potter, the neglected, lonely boy now had a big family.

Was he envious? Severus wondered. No, he certainly wasn't because at long last, he realized that after so many years of struggle, he had gained a similar boon. These people were his family, too. That was more than enough. Potter's and his choices, their fates, had been different, and there was nothing to be envious about.

He was pulled out of his musings by a tender kiss. Hermione had come to him and was smiling lovingly. Words weren't needed. A whispered Legilimens on both sides, and their minds came together again, finally. How he had missed this. More fool him for having prevented this for so long.

Another kiss, long and deep this time, told him that he was forgiven and that they would be all right.

---

A week later, Severus packed his things and, as did all the other magical and non-magical guests, moved out of Paulie's house. They had been celebrating properly the night before, and it took more than one dose of Sober up potion to get rid of the goblin inside his head, who'd been swinging a large hammer against his skull. Paulie, though reluctant at first, had been delighted with his dose of the potion and proposed to make a fortune out of it if Severus ever wanted to brew it for a pharmaceutical company. He only needed a tiny reminder that he had signed a contract of secrecy, though. Paulie could be trusted; the Underground had learned that, and Severus had known that ever since they had been lads together.

Hermione had left again. After a stormy and wonderfully satisfying reunion––the words 'marriage' or 'proposal' hadn't been uttered even once––she had taken her leave to get her parents acclimatised back into their old lives. There would be a lot to tell and explain, and eventually, he'd have to meet them. He was both dreading and looking forward to that meeting. He knew that Hermione's parents had to be interesting people; she had been brought up with love and understanding, and not every parent would have accepted her dual nature as a Muggleborn witch with such grace. But he also wondered what they would think of their daughter's boyfriend, who was only a few years younger than they were. He sighed. They'd have to get along somehow, for Hermione's sake, just as Hermione had made an effort to get along with his own mother.

There, his trunk was packed, the last book stacked away. He was ready to leave. A pat on Paulie's shoulder with the promise to visit again soon, a last look around, and he Disapparated.

The Apparition point in the Forbidden Forest was still the same as before the war. All the fighting, thankfully, had caused less damage than they had feared. With quick strides, Severus passed the gates into Hogwarts' grounds and glanced at Hagrid's hut, which had been rebuilt. There was no trace of the fire from the night he had thought he had killed Dumbledore. Hogwarts looked well. The damage from the war had been repaired; the castle hadn't been on the Ministry's list of undesirables, after all. It had been a while since he had last seen it, and now, at the end of summer, it looked as invulnerable as ever. A reassuring thought, although also a dangerously misleading one, Severus thought. Deep down, there was still the lingering fear of invasion; the Death Eater attacks' visible traces had been removed, but the damage in the hearts of the inhabitants couldn't be fixed easily. They had been attacked once. It could happen again. Constant vigilance wouldn't be the funny mannerism of an old Auror any longer: it would be something people would practice in earnest. And Severus would help them do just that.

When Minerva had owled him with the invitation of taking up the DADA position for good, he had been reluctant at first. Hermione, however, had been delighted, and after they had talked it over in detail, he had accepted. And now he was going to make his home once again at the place that had been his home for so many years, that had seen him humiliated and slighted, but also respected and feared. Maybe now he could even add 'liked' to that list. He shuddered. Did he really want to be 'liked'? Maybe valued and respected should be good enough; he wasn't a likeable man, after all. But teaching DADA was something he enjoyed, and he hoped to be able to pass on some of his fascination to the students.

After having taken tea with Minerva and the other teachers who had already arrived at Hogwarts, he settled down in his quarters. They were bigger than during his last tenure. If he had to live here, he wanted to have enough room to be comfortable, and to make Hermione comfortable since she would be living here with him. They had considered getting a house in Hogsmeade, but as he would be Head of Slytherin again, staying at the school seemed the wiser decision. Hermione loved Hogwarts, and she was looking forward to moving in with him. Since she had passed her NEWTs with flying colours while he had been unconscious, there wouldn't be any objection to them living there together.

A knock at the door shook him out of his musings.

"Professor, do you have a minute?"

"Miss Weasley? What is it?" He invited the young woman in.

"I'd like you to call me Ginny in private, if you don't mind." She smiled at him. He had seldom seen her smile so openly, so relaxed.

"Only if you call me Severus, in private, for the time being," he replied, and she nodded.

"So, what brings you here?"

"It's Harry. I was wondering if you would perhaps talk to him?"

Potter had moved to Hogwarts. Minerva wanted to spoil her new son, she explained, until he knew what to do with his––everyone's really––newfound freedom.

"Why do you want me to talk to him?"

"I thought that perhaps you... er... I mean, you're both men, and both of you were kind of trapped in Hogwarts. He seems so lost. He should be happy, finally able to act his age, be free of responsibilities, shouldn't he? But he just sits around and mopes."

Severus' eyebrows shot upwards. "Mopes?"

Ginny fidgeted. "Well, yes, he mopes. He's almost like Moaning Myrtle, always sighing, never laughing. I hardly know him any more. He doesn't want to leave his room...doesn't want to do anything...he just sits. I..." She swallowed, frowning. "I don't think he really cares whether I'm there or not."

"I don't really think that I'm the right person to talk to him. Maybe someone from St. Mungo's, or one of your brothers?"

"Fred and George tried to make him laugh, but he hardly smiles. Ron, he's as stumped as I am. He tried to talk, but Harry just shrugs and looks out of the window. I thought, well, he's learned to respect you a lot, you know. And he's always reacted strongly to you..."

Perceptive, Severus thought. Anger was a reaction, and most of the time Potter had been angry when confronted with him. Severus had the nagging suspicion that he knew exactly what ailed Potter.

"Well then, let's get going." he said. "But I make no promises."

"Thank you, sir." Ginny beamed and led the way to Potter's quarters.

---

"You have a visitor, Harry," Ginny said, and then closed the door softly behind Severus who stood still, watching the boy-who-lived-twice.

Potter sat on a chair by the window, staring outside. He had barely turned his head when Severus came in.

"What brings you here, Professor?" he asked after the silence had stretched for several minutes.

"What a sight you are, Potter," Severus said in as scathing a voice as he could muster. His heart wasn't really in it, but old habits die hard, and the sneer felt good, in an odd way.

There, now Potter turned his head and frowned. Severus barked out a short laugh.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that your saintly godfather has come back from the dead."

The boy's eyes widened, in disbelief, no doubt.

"How very like him you are. As soon as you can't show off your bravado, and stumble from one silly adventure to the next, you sit around and mope."

Potters face had turned red, and Severus steeled himself.

"LEAVE SIRIUS OUT OF THIS!° Potter's spittle was flying, and his voice almost broke. "SILLY ADVENTURE? HOW DARE YOU?"

The boy jumped up from his chair and charged towards him. Severus wondered if Potter had his wand on him. Had it even been recovered? He didn't know. He was prepared to cast a silent protection charm at the slightest hint of attack, but it was just as likely that Potter would punch him in the face. Severus folded his arms and sneered down his nose.

"AND YOU... LOOK AT YOU, SNEERING LIKE THIS. AS IF..." Potter took a deep breath. "As if I didn't know that you know exactly how to push my buttons, don't you, sir?"

Severus' mouth fell open. He shut it quickly. Dammit. He'd lost his touch.

Potter had sat down again, but his face was animated now, and there was a small smile playing around his lips. He motioned to a chair by the fireplace, and Severus sat down.

"Talk to me, Potter. I know what's wrong with you, but I want to hear it from you."

"Do you?" Potter said mildly. "I wonder why that should be?"

Severus preferred a yelling Potter to that mild version. He wondered if he had appeared as pathetic during his own phase of––yes––moping. He sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Because, just like me, you don't know who you are any more. You are convinced that you don't have a purpose any longer. Ever since you came to Hogwarts, your life had only one purpose: to meet Voldemort and to defeat him. That shadow hung over you like a dark cloud, and now it's gone. And you don't know what to do with yourself."

"Just like you?" Potter looked surprised.

"As unbelievable as that is, yes. As you undoubtedly know, my own life has been under a similar cloud, for more years now than I care to remember, and now I'm free, too."

"And how did you get over the, er, moping?"

"Who says that I'm over it? You don't think that a little talk miraculously solves all your problems, do you? But I'm on the way to mending, and I had help. Rather unexpected help, too. Miss Lovegood told me a few things that got me out of my snit before I could manage to make Hermione utterly unhappy, and myself, too. And I promise you, Potter, if you don't get your act together, I'll send Miss Lovegood your way."

Potter laughed. This was a first, Severus thought. He couldn't remember a time when he had seen Potter laugh at something he'd said. "I think I would like that. Luna is a good friend."

"She is," Severus admitted, smirking. "And she knows exactly how to cut away the flesh of the wound until it stops festering."

"Yeah, she does," Potter agreed and flinched. "Painfully so." He still looked sad, though. "But..."

"But. You wonder why Miss Lovegood is needed, or I, or your other friends, when Albus Dumbledore is alive, don't you? Where is the man who has moulded you––and me––into what you are, who has directed your life, manipulated everyone and, eventually, saw his plans turn out exactly like he wanted them? Isn't that it?"

Potter sighed. "All I got from him was a letter. I would have thought that he would at least visit..." He hung his head.

Severus nodded. "I would have thought so, too. But when I saw him before he left us, I understood. He is weak, and he isn't well. His life has been saved, and his injury healed, but he is convinced that he's living on borrowed time. And so he's left us. He's shown that he trusts us to finally solve our problems without leaning on him. Maybe it was about time. We would still be relying on him to fix everything, otherwise."

"But I thought he was my friend," Harry said very quietly. "I've heard what all of you did. All the love. I don't deserve so much love."

"Don't be foolish, Potter. Love isn't given because someone earned it. Love just is, or so I was told. It was freely and generously given, and you'd better learn to accept it––and don't even for a moment think that the old man doesn't love you, Potter," Severus continued. "He does. But should we have dragged him here to watch a ceremony he couldn't have had a part in? We didn't even involve Lupin, as close as he feels to you. His isn't the love of a brother, though, and neither is Albus'––and the love of a fatherly figure wasn't part of the ritual. In fact, we deliberately avoided it..."

"...because it would have resembled the ritual used by Voldemort too much. I see," Potter said with a thoughtful expression.

Severus nodded. "Exactly. I think you should go and visit Albus in Greece as soon as you feel strong enough. Take Miss Weasley and Minerva. Perry and Parvati will be delighted to have you around."

"That sounds like a good idea. I think we'll do that. And I think I'll have to apologize to Ginny and Pro.. er, to my mother." He smiled brightly. "I have a mother. Isn't that amazing?"

Severus nodded. "The most amazing thing, yes."

"Thank you, Professor. I have a lot to think about."

Severus nodded and stood up. "If you need to do more shouting, you know where to find me..."

And once again, Potter laughed.

---

"That was a good thing you did, Severus," Hermione said after she had come back from her parents and learned about his conversation with Potter. "I'm so glad."

After a brief kiss for a greeting, she had started to nibble at his jaw. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back to give her better access.

"I don't know what got into me, but I suppose I'll have to be civil to Potter if I want to stay in your good graces."

"Indeed you will."

She laughed and slightly bit his earlobe while her hands moved up his chest to the buttons of his jacket. "I have no intention of letting you slip through my fingers ever again, I'll have you know."

His chuckle was silenced by her lips upon his. "Merlin, I'm so happy to have you back," she said earnestly. "I never want to be without you again."

He sighed. "You are so much younger than me. And I'm still struggling with who I am, and likely will continue to do so for a while. You'll tire of me soon enough."

"Oh, Severus," she whispered. "The age difference means nothing." She kissed him again. "Don't you see? We've both been robbed of our youth in a way. We both haven't fully grown up yet. Do you really think I know who or what I am, now, after the war? Or Ron? Well, I'm quite certain Luna does, but she is a special case... Our world is different now, better, but there still is so much to do. Let's grow up together, or maybe grow down first and have some fun."

She paused. She had succeeded in undressing him and now she was studying her handiwork. He was very aware of the effect of her eyes on him, and she couldn't be in doubt about his eagerness, but she neither got rid of her own clothes, nor let him help her undress. Instead, she got a quill out of her bag and a bottle of red ink.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"Marking my posession." She grinned and started to write 'Property of the Know-it-all' on the skin of his stomach. "Hold still," she admonished when he twisted.

"It tickles." He laughed. He couldn't help himself. "What a silly idea."

"Well, I'm a silly girl, am I not?" Her grin was cheeky. "And I'm having fun. I've never had much opportunity to be silly, you know? And now I have every intention of correcting that lapse. I'll be silly, I'll have fun, and I'll drag you along."

"Is that so?" He smirked, silently casting a vanishing charm on the ink bottle before he got hold of Hermione, flipped her over and started to tickle her mercilessly while he loomed over her.

She shrieked. "Yes, just like that. Stop. Stop. STOP."

"Only if you surrender and let me help you out of your clothes."

She surrendered. And they both continued teaching each other how to have fun. Neither of them was in any hurry to grow up.

---

A/N: Sober-up potion isn't canon, but it should be.

(2) I made that up. There are a few snippets from tablet XII in there, too.