From his cosy seat, Dudley eyed the craziness unfolding in front of him. It was Christmas Day, and presents were passed around and opened. Joyous shouts and loud laughter rang through his ears, and he ducked when a lumpy stocking flew over his head. He grew dizzy when the force of ten thousand or so redheads of varying shades started stampeding all over the room, but his eyes quickly zoned in on one boy.

Albus Severus Potter had picked up a plain-looking green package, tied with a white ribbon. That was one of the three packages in the room that wasn’t flashy or animated like the other packages, and Dudley held his breath as Albus slowly unravelled the ribbon, letting it fall into his lap.

Dudley knew what was behind the plain wrapping paper. It was a gift he had mulled over for several days before carefully making his selection — so unlike James’ or Lily’s gifts, both of which he was able to choose quickly. The two of them were easy to read and figure out, both of them outgoing and confident.

But not Albus, who was quieter than his siblings, more introspective with hidden depths in those familiar green eyes — a mystery, he was.

Dudley, as nonchalantly as possible, watched Albus rip apart the paper and watched the way Albus just stared at the gift. It was a box — a fountain pen kit. In it was a handsome fountain pen, in bold black, with gold and silver designs along its body. There were several different types of nibs and ink refills in the kit and a small notebook with a leather cover. Albus looked up at Dudley with unreadable eyes.

Swallowing hard and feeling dread growing inside of him, Dudley said, “Your dad told me you like to write stories. So, I, erm, thought you’d like to write with this.”

He became more uncomfortable by the silence, and before he could tell Albus that he could exchange the gift, Albus let out a beaming smile. As quick as a wink, Albus had crossed the room to give him a big hug, and Dudley found himself hugging back. It was then he heard a very soft, “Thank you, Uncle Dudley. This is the best gift ever!”

And all Dudley could say back was “Happy Christmas, Albus.”

Click on the image for the larger version.

Click on the image for the larger version.

There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known.
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.

When Severus Snape arrived at Spinner’s End, he welcomed its stillness, the layers of dust, the fraying curtains, and the faded carpet in the sitting room. He glanced at the yellowed wall, and his eyes landed on the familiar radio.

He was glad to be finally away from Hogwarts and a certain old, eccentric, meddling wizard who wore half-moon spectacles over his twinkling eyes and had a nasty habit of offering sweets to students and staff members at apparent random.

Then again, he thought, looks could be deceiving. The esteemed Hogwarts headmaster might be an old coot who was getting on years, but Severus knew better than to underestimate one of the greatest wizards known to the wizarding world.

Nonetheless, tonight’s conversation with the headmaster had left him unsettled to where he found himself wishing he could poke a liquorice wand up the headmaster’s crooked nose. Then again, maybe not. Knowing Albus, he’d enjoy the wand up there and make a comment such as, “Now it makes perfect sense why this sweet is long and thin!”

Severus rolled his eyes as his mind wandered back to the conversation he’d had earlier. In fact, he could not believe it was already a decade since that year, the year he’d failed to protect her . . .

At the end of summer, at the start of the new term, Severus would see him. The thought of it left him feeling rattled. He wondered if he had any of her traits, along with her green eyes.

Stifling another sigh, he threw himself on a chair. Next to him was the Muggle radio, the same radio he used to listen as a child. He stared at the thick layer of dust and spelled it away. Then he slowly reached out to flick it on.

First the radio spewed out static noises and indecipherable words. Severus fiddled with the knobs until he could hear something akin to music pour out of the speakers.

It was a song he hadn’t thought of for years; a song he had never quite liked because of its silly melody and lyrics. His fingers twitched, wanting to turn the radio off, but the dreadful song seeped into his mind.

“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea. And he told us of his life, in the land of sub–”

The sound of water, the sea crashing against an unknown shore, a captain’s voice, and a brass band filled his sitting room.

Then, in his mind, another voice began to sing.

Severus stilled his hand.

“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea. And he told us of his life, in the land of sub–”

“Lily!” Severus yelled, holding his hands against his ears for protection. “Stop!”

She ignored Severus and continued to sing, her voice loud and off-key. “–marines. So we sailed on to the sun, till we found the sea of green. And we lived beneath the waves, in our yellow submarine!”

Severus groaned and kept his hands on his ears, eyeing the back door of Lily’s house, hoping Mrs Evans would come out and tell Lily to stop her horrible singing.

Nobody came, so Severus was condemned to suffer until the song had ended. When she had — finally! — finished, Severus brought his hands down. She turned to Severus and said, “Come on! Sing with me!”

Severus recoiled in horror. “No! I am not going to sing!”

“Aw,” Lily said, her green eyes opened wide. “Why not? We’ll sing your favourite.”

“My favourite?” Severus stared at her, wondering if she had lost her mind. “I don’t have a favourite Beatles song.”

“Yes, you do.” Lily grinned and tossed her long red hair. “I heard you sing it before when I snuck up on you once. And stop glaring! You’re going to have a pinched forehead like Petunia if you constantly frown like that. Now come on. Sing! You say yes, I say no . . . ”

Severus gave a resigned sigh, and in a very monotone voice, completely the opposite from Lily’s belting vocals, he sang, “You say stop, and I say go, go, go.” That was what he did for the next hour. Lily would urge him to sing with her, and he’d sing, all flat and on one note, but that didn’t deter Lily. She just continued to sing happily and — unfortunately for Severus — horribly.

He didn’t mind, though. Not as much as he pretended to anyway.

He’d rather put up with Lily’s awful singing than listening to the daily arguments of his parents. Compared to their screaming and arguing, he found Lily’s voice beautiful . . . when she wasn’t singing.

Later, when he finally couldn’t postpone going home, he wondered if he should see if there were any potions that would improve someone’s singing quality. Better yet, he thought, maybe he could find some magical earplugs that were invisible when worn and that would block out someone’s off-key singing, but allowed the wearer to still hear everything else.

This idea had come to him last year when Lily suddenly had become interested with this band, but Severus had never acted on it because he didn’t mind Lily having fun with these awful songs. Mostly. He just hoped that she would improve one day.

“Hello, Severus.” Mrs Evans smiled. “Lily’s in the back. Do you want a jam tart before you go?”

He looked at the mouth-watering treats, something he’d never find in his own home. His pride made him decline them. “No, thank you. I’m still full from lunch.” He hurried away before she could insist and ignored his empty stomach’s protest.

Outside, he scanned the yard for Lily. She sat cross-legged under her favourite tree, where the afternoon sunlight peeked through the leaves above, creating a shadowy pattern. In her lap was a book, and she was smiling. Severus frowned slightly, realising that the smile on her face was different from her usual ones.

She smiled shyly when meeting someone for the first time. She had a polite, courteous smile that she always smiled (in fact it was hard to catch her not smiling). When she knew someone better, her smile was a bit more mischievous. When she had an idea, her smile grew knowing, secretive. And when she was with Severus, her whole face lit up.

The smile she had now was wide, and her eyes looked dreamy. That expression unnerved him; it was an expression he’d seen before, but he couldn’t remember where.

When he got closer, he saw it wasn’t a book but a magazine. He stopped in front of her, looked down, and stared at the gigantic pin-up poster of John Lennon. Lily was humming something, a very familiar tune that always made his stomach clench in disgust. Of all the Beatles songs, he found himself hating “Can’t Buy Me Love” most, and hearing her humming it made his ears hurt. As he tried his best to block out that tune, he glanced at Lily’s face once more, and that was when he realised where he’d seen that expression before. He’d seen it on Petunia when she’d been in love with that neighbourhood boy down the street.

Now Lily wore that same look. Did that mean she was in love with John Lennon?

Severus made a face at that thought. He hoped she hadn’t turned into a girl, like Petunia!

Lily looked up, finally noticing him, and asked, “What’s wrong with your face? Are you sick?”

“No, but what’s that?” He pointed at the magazine.

“A magazine.” Lily smirked at her answer as Severus resisted rolling his eyes. “Daddy got this for me. This has a lot of stuff about the Beatles. A lot of articles and posters. See? Look at this poster of John Lennon when he was younger! See that mop-top? I think that suits him waaaaay better than what he looks like now.”

He studied the two pictures, studied how different the Beatles had looked in the early 1960s compared to now. He could see that they had looked a lot cleaner when they had been younger, and then as they had grown older, they had turned into these messy people. He could not figure out who was who except for John Lennon, because of his glasses. “Do all grown-ups become this messy when they get older?”

“Maybe?” Lily shrugged as she went back to staring at the huge John Lennon poster. “He still looks good, though. I wish I could meet him one day. I wish I could go to their concert. I’m trying to convince Daddy and Mummy to let me go when I turn eleven. I’ll be all grown up by then, so they have to let me go! Do you think they’ll ever come here and perform?”

“I don’t know.”

“If they come here or any nearby cities, I’m going to go. Let’s go together, okay?”

Severus grimaced and took a step back. “I don’t think so,” he said fiercely.

“Aw, why not? I don’t want to go by myself. If you come with me, you can be my bodyguard! You already like wearing black, so you can wear that and protect me.”

Severus tried to figure out just what black had to do with bodyguards, but before he could ask, she stood up, set the magazine aside, and started singing a new song.

“Oh, please, say to me, you’ll let me be your man. And please, say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand!” Lily danced as she grabbed Severus’ hand. “Sing with me! We have to practise for when they come!”

“What do you mean practise?!” Severus asked as she yanked him around the yard.

“At the concert! When they sing, we have to sing along with them. So we need to memorise the lyrics and all.” She laughed and skipped around the yard, still holding Severus’ hand, and continued to sing, “Now let me hold your hand! I want to hold your hand!”

Once again, thanks to Lily’s convincing attitude, Severus found himself singing along with her off-key performance. Thank goodness she didn’t mind his flat singing, he thought. He didn’t fancy the idea of receiving singing lessons on top of all these Beatles songs.

It was cold when Severus woke up on the last day of the year. He blearily rubbed his eyes, and he sat up with a large yawn. He winced as he heard something crashing downstairs, followed by his father’s deep shouting and his mother’s softer sobs.

Already numb from the coldness in his room, he pulled his threadbare blanket tighter around him and lay back down on his lumpy mattress, curling himself into a foetal position and pulling the blanket over his head to block out the noises from below. Despite all his efforts, though, he could still hear everything through the thin walls. He heard his father’s cruel voice as he continued to yell at his mother. He heard the all familiar threats of him leaving them, and his mother begging him not to.

Unable to withstand it any longer, he got off his bed, stopped by the loo to do his business, and went to change into a pair of frayed jeans and an old but clean shirt. He slipped his feet into a pair of socks that had holes and into ratty-looking trainers which had once been white. Finally, he pulled on his coat, quietly crept through the house, and went outside.

He walked down the road, enjoying the blissful silence and trying to ignore the frosty winds that swept all over him. He pulled his coat’s collar up around his neck and ears and stuffed his hands deep into his pocket. In one of the side alley streets, away from the prying eyes of his neighbours, he jumped up and down and ran around in circles until he could feel himself getting warm.

Still, it was too cold to linger around, so he decided to go visit Lily and see if she wanted to play. He ran all the way to Lily’s house, and when he arrived, he could see his breath coming out in pants. Swallowing hard, he forced his breathing to slow down before he rang the doorbell.

Mrs Evans opened the door. Severus noticed that she appeared sad instead of her usual cheery self. “Oh, hello, Severus. You look chilled to your bones. Come on in!”

Inside, he quickly turned down her offers of tea and crumpets. “Thank you, but maybe later. Is Lily around?”

Sighing loudly, her face turned sad again. “She’s out in the back. I just checked on her five minutes ago, and she’s not ready to come back in yet. She’s quite . . . upset. Thank goodness she’s bundled up, at least. Go see her, love. Perhaps you can knock some sense into her so she’ll brood inside the house instead.”

“All right. I’ll–” Severus was cut off when Mrs Evans wrapped a fluffy muffler around his neck.

“There. We mustn’t let you catch your death of cold.” She finished tying the muffler and stepped back with a smile. “Go and bring her in soon. Otherwise, I’ll dig out my rubber crowbar and yank you two inside the house.”

Severus thanked her quickly, and he went outside. Just like that one time when she’d been fascinated by the magazine, he found her under the tree. Unlike last time, she didn’t have a silly smile on her face; instead, there were tears in her eyes. Worried, he wondered what had upset her. Quietly, he took a seat next to her on the hard ground.

“Hullo,” she said, pulling her knees closer to her chest and wrapping her thin arms around her legs.

“Hi,” he responded softly. “What’s wrong?”

Lily kept quiet, but her bottom lip began to quiver.

“Did Petunia do something to you?” he asked, alarmed.

She shook her head. “No. Not Petunia. It’s . . . it’s . . . ” She lost her control, and she burst into tears. She buried her face in her arms. Her shoulders heaved and shook.

Awkwardly, Severus put an arm around her shoulder, but barely touching her, afraid to upset her further. Then, without warnings, Lily turned and leaned into him, sobbing into his chest. His eyes now wide open, he slowly hugged her very stiffly.

They stayed like that for a few minutes as Lily’s sob subsided. Soon, she was only sniffling. He asked again, “What’s wrong?”

“Thebeebmamdumedinagoo.”

“The Bee Man made dinner goo?”

“No!” Lily pulled away from him and giggled before she remembered her pain and turned sombre again. “The Beatles are breaking up for good.”

He blinked. “For good?”

“Back in April, Paul McCartney had left the group. So I was waiting for Paul to realise how he was being silly and needed to come back to the group, but now . . . ” Her bottom lip began to quiver again. “I always thought they would stay together forever.”

Severus was slightly dismayed. He knew she really liked the band, but he didn’t think their break up would affect her this much. He couldn’t understand why she was so upset, but he didn’t want to see her so miserable.

“Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,” he began to sing the first song that came into his mind. “And I say it’s all right!”

She stared at him, open-mouthed. He continued to belt out the song, not caring that he sounded worse than she usually did. “Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun, here comes the sun . . . ”

“And I say it’s all right!” Lily finished in a shaky voice. They smiled at each other and continued to sing. It was one of their worst attempts at singing Beatles songs, and they most likely butchered the song to where Severus would have definitely preferred an earplug or three . . . but he didn’t care. Lily wasn’t crying, and that was more important than his ears.

Together they finished the rest of the song.

“Will you promise me something?”

They were back in Lily’s house, in the sitting room, eating and drinking Mrs Evans’ wonderful tea and crumpets. Severus was going to soak in all the warmth here before he had to return to his cold home and celebrate New Year’s Eve with his parents, hoping they wouldn’t fight for once, hoping they’d call a truce for tonight and perhaps even fight less in the New Year.

He looked into her serious green eyes, the same eyes he’d looked into for years. But now they appeared different. “What is it?”

“Promise me that we’ll always be friends, no matter what. Promise me that we’ll never break up like the Beatles.”

Severus slowly grinned. “I promise.” Lily was his true friend; he would always be loyal to her.

She smiled back, her green eyes becoming brighter. She grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together before saying, “Friends forever.”

He nodded and looked at their intertwined fingers and echoed her, “Friends forever.”

When the song ended, Severus finally turned the radio off. He leaned heavily against his chair and stared at the wall in front of him; an image of Lily, so beautiful with her long red hair and her endearing green eyes smiling at him, came to his mind.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw her holding up a baby up to her bosom.

He had broken his promise.

Yet, maybe, there was another chance.

Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.

As Albus’ voice drifted away, Severus smiled sadly. “Friends forever,” he whispered. Lily looked at him and mouthed a single word.

Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
Are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me.

Dear Draco and Neville,

How is Seoul? I hope you two haven’t suffered from Portkey-lag. I miss you two a lot. Neville, don’t forget to give Professor Lee all the Quibbler magazines. Also, be sure to look for that very rare squirrel, the one I am calling the Slytherin Squirrel (because of its green fur and its shy nature!), hidden somewhere on the Yonsei University campus. Good luck with that and your Korean herbology studies!

Are there a lot of Nargles, Wrackspurts, and Bibbering Humdingers there? I’ve heard that cucumber kimchi attracts them the most, so I am certain you’ve run into plenty there. Do keep track and see if my theory is correct.

Oh, and Draco, how’s your job? You’re sponsoring the Korean artists, aren’t you? Don’t forget your promise! Send me music samples of the artists you sponsor. I would love to hear their music. Muggles’ music is so much more interesting than wizarding music.

Write back when you can. Don’t mind Hermes biting you, Draco. He does that because he likes you.

Love,
Luna

“Bloody owl!” Draco glared at Hermes, rubbed his sore fingers, and watched how that blasted thing flew over to Neville. Hermes landed on Neville’s shoulder and let out a soft hoot before he nuzzled against Neville’s cheek.

Neville smiled apologetically. “What did Luna write?”

“The usual.” He handed Neville the letter. “She’s reminding you about the magazines and the squirrel, which she has decided to name the ‘Slytherin Squirrel’, and she wants us to test her cucumber kimchi theory, and she’s asking for free samples of the artists I am working with.”

“Mmm.” Neville read as he petted Hermes. “You better write her now. Remember what happened the last time you took your time responding to her?”

Draco groaned. “Don’t remind me. I swear, women are dangerous, and Luna is probably the most dangerous one of them all, even more dangerous than Granger. At least with Granger, she just punches me. But Luna . . . ” He shook his head and took out a parchment and began to write.

“While you do that, I’ll go find some treats for Hermes.”

“Yeah? Just make sure he doesn’t leave any of his nasty ‘surprises’.” Draco ignored Hermes indignant hoots as he wrote a response back to one of his dearest (and weirdest) friends.

“I’m thinking you pissed Hermes off last time, so he refused to deliver the letter . . . ”

“Oh, yeah, it’s always my fault!” Draco scowled at Luna’s newest messenger. “But really, did she have to send a vulture?!”

Neville chuckled nervously before he put his arm around Draco’s shoulders. “At least this one seems well-trained. It’s not poking our eyes out . . . yet. Still, better read what she said and write back as soon as possible.”

With Neville’s arm still on him, Draco leaned comfortably against him, and he began to read the letter out loud, keeping one eye on that vulture.

Dear Draco and Neville,

Hermes has a girlfriend, so he’s too busy with her to deliver this letter. I’ve sent Vladimir this time. His kind is so misunderstood. Just know that Vladimir is gentle. Try petting him on the top of his head. He loves it. One last thing about him — he has a tendency to sing when he’s hungry, so be sure to feed him. He especially loves raw meat.

So, Neville, still no signs of that Slytherin Squirrel? I’m not surprised. It really is shy, so just keep trying. I heard if you entice it with candy floss, your chances of seeing it increases. Oh, and thank you for sending me those articles about Korean herbology. They make excellent reading when I am in the bubble bath.

And Draco, I am really loving the music of Dong Bang Shin Ki, but what is the meaning of their name? Is it some sort of a secret code? Do they change into Nargles if someone figures out their name? Also, thanks for the DVD of their concert. Harry had to push some random buttons on the controller to break something so the DVD would play.

Going back to the concert, these young men are fascinating. The way they dance and sing, it is all wonderful. I think my favourite is Changmin, or Max as he prefers to be called in English. I’ve been learning bits of Korean from watching them. I love Korean. It sounds so different from English . . .

Draco skimmed the rest of the letter, which was incredibly long. “She goes back and forth between talking about the artists, Korean, and about her recent adventure of Wrackspurts hunting with Potter in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Sounds like she’s smitten by that Dong group. What does their name stand for anyway?”

“I . . . ” Draco paused. “I’m not sure. I never asked.”

“Are you going to find out?”

“Maybe–”

Vladimir let out a loud screeching noise, an unpleasant sound that made Draco’s insides twist painfully.

Draco and Neville looked at each other. In a whisper, Neville asked, “Is that his so-called singing?”

“Probably.”

“Well, I guess you–”

“You can feed him, and I’ll write to Luna.” Besides, Draco thought, the sooner he wrote, the faster he could send Vladimir away.

“Fine, but next time you deal with Hermes or Vladimir.”

“Why? You deal with animals better than I. So quit complaining.” He smirked. “I’ll make it up to you later . . . ” He winked as his voice went down to a whisper.

Draco’s smirk grew louder as Neville inhaled sharply before he went to tend Vladimir. As Vladimir’s “singing” increased in volume, Draco quickly started on his reply.

“No letter from Luna?”

Draco shook his head, surprised that it’d been weeks since he’d last heard from her. “No, but given that I haven’t received any frantic owls from Potter, I’m guessing she’s just busy.”

“Shame. I kind of miss Vladimir and Hermes.” Neville carefully trimmed his bonsai tree, a gift Draco had given him a few years back.

“I don’t.”

“Right. Ever since our third year . . . ”

“Don’t remind me!”

Neville chuckled. “I’ll write her a letter.” He glanced at the clock. “You better get going. Don’t keep Rain waiting.”

“Bi.”

“What?”

“That’s the Korean word for ‘rain’.”

“Right, Bi.”

Draco checked over his suit one last time. He looked impeccable, like always. “All right. I’ll be off. Don’t be late tonight.”

“I won’t. Seoul Tower at eight. I’ll get the bus up there. One of my professors told me the cable car was not worth the money, saying something about how they cram about fifty people into that thing.”

“How vile.” Draco pecked Neville’s cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Draco looked out the window as his driver, Mr Kim, inched the car through the heavy Seoul traffic. He’d been at the Leeum Samsung Art Museum at the edge of Itaewon, and now he had to go to Yonsei University to meet Neville for dinner. He could have chosen to Apparate, but he opted for the car ride so he could watch the scenery and the people.

He just wished they weren’t stuck in traffic. According to Mr Kim, that intersection at Hamilton Hotel was the cause of the traffic in Itaewon, and Mr Kim assured him that once they passed that intersection, things would move a lot faster.

Outside, his eyes landed on a woman with long pale blonde hair. Her hair reminded him of Luna, and he fondly remembered how they became friends.

It was during his “eighth year” at Hogwarts. His father was imprisoned in Azkaban. Thanks to Harry Potter, Draco and his mother didn’t get sent to Azkaban, but the Malfoy name was still disgraced after the war. He hadn’t wanted to go back to Hogwarts for his eighth year, but his mother had insisted on him finishing his education, so he begrudgingly went to Hogwarts.

Seeing Luna at Hogwarts reminded him of how she was kept captive in his dungeons, and that guilt made him stay away from her. However, in her strange, peculiar way, she sought him out. At first, he hated her strange conversations about Nargles and Wrackspurts, plus the way she always talked about the Quibbler and always made sure she had a copy for him. Soon, though, Draco came to appreciate Luna’s unique way of looking at the world. He still didn’t exactly like her, but that all changed one day when he went to see his mother at Hogsmeade. Everyone around them had given them nasty looks and indiscreetly talked about them, but not Luna. She just came up to them both and started talking about how emeralds really made his mother’s complexion look youthful.

Afterwards, when the two of them walked back to Hogwarts, Draco knew then that she was a friend. She was odd, but she was a friend, and he knew deep inside that she would not be easy to get rid of even if he’d tried his hardest to shun her.

Exactly two days after his big revelation, she had begun dragging him into the greenhouse Neville worked in. It was awkward, he remembered. Draco didn’t know how to act around Neville, and to his horror, he even discovered he was attracted to him. Still, through the mysterious power of Luna, the two became friends. And it wasn’t long before she began to leave them alone and even told them to hurry up and snog one another before she had to resort to locking them up in a tiny room with Nargles.

Throughout all this, Draco couldn’t help but wonder if Luna really was a Ravenclaw. She seemed sneakier than most hardcore Slytherins.

“We’re almost there.” Mr Kim’s voice interrupted his daydreaming. Draco looked up with a start at the familiar Sinchon Rotary.

Draco nodded. Neville had mentioned to him this morning that Luna hadn’t written back yet. He knew that nothing had happened to her because there hadn’t been any anxious owl messages or Floo-calls from Harry, but he found it odd that she went this long without writing them a letter. In fact, he found himself missing her quirky letters.

In a couple of weeks, he and Neville would finally have some time off from their jobs. He decided then to ask Neville about going back to England for a few days and surprising their friends and families on an impromptu visit. He knew Neville would love the idea, so he created a mental list of gifts, including kimchi, he could bring back home.

DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEEEEEEEEEE!

“Fucking hell!” Draco hated that “Fur Elise” doorbell. He especially hated it at three in the morning! He sat up while Neville stirred next to him but didn’t wake. Grumbling and cursing, Draco stomped out of the bedroom and went to look on the screen of his doorbell phone. He didn’t see a face, but he saw a stuffed bear.

Frowning and wondering if a drunk was out there, he grabbed the phone and snapped, “Who are you and why the fuck are you here so late?”

“I’m not late,” said a familiar, dreamy voice. “I’m early.”

“Oh, great. I must be dreaming. A Korean ajusshi that sounds like Luna,” Draco mumbled.

“I’m not an old Korean man. I can be one if you want, but it’d have to be temporary. I don’t think Harry will appreciate me switching genders on him.”

“Wait–” Draco reached the door in two seconds. He pulled it open, nearly jerking his arm out of the socket from the force, and stared at Luna and her three large rolling suitcases, her creative and colourful outfit, and her stuffed bear she had named “Bear”.

She beamed at Draco and said, “Good morning!” Then she flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “That was a long Portkey ride. I was surprised there was such a long queue at Hong Kong, but then again, I think King Kong must have been visiting, so that caused the extra waiting around. Anyway, surprise! Happy birthday.”

“Luna, my birthday was two months ago!”

“Oh, then happy early birthday!” She somehow managed to wheel in all three suitcases at the same time — how, Draco wasn’t sure — and she sat on the couch and fingered her kimchi pot earrings. “Is Nev sleeping?”

“Yeah. You know he sleeps like a rock.”

“Yes, I remember now. Oh, and I’m sorry I haven’t been writing. Things have been so busy with trying to plan this surprise visit. I even told Harry to keep it a secret.”

“Well,” Draco said dryly. “You did a great job on that, and you beat me and Neville at our own plans. We were going to go back to England next week and surprise everyone, too.”

“Daddy did say great minds think alike. I only wished Harry could have come with me, but Kingsley really needed him right now, so he wasn’t able to get the time off. At least I promised to bring back a huge container of fresh kimchi.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, I can’t wait to explore this wonderful place for my one-week stay, but I think sleep is finally coming to me. Don’t mind me if I start sleep-walking, all right?”

Draco couldn’t help it. He began to snigger. “Right, right. Let me take you to the guest room.” As he helped Luna settle in her room, he set aside his gift list and focused on a new sightseeing list for Luna.

The next few days passed by in a blur, thanks to them Apparating and Portkeying everywhere. Neville, excited by Luna’s surprise visit, showed her all over Yonsei University and Sinchon, and they even walked around Yonsei University campus with Professr Lee to see if they could get a glimpse of that elusive squirrel. The Slytherin Squirrel remained hidden, but that didn’t deter Luna at all as she ate some of her candy floss and said, “It has to be just right for it to appear. We just have to be patient.”

Otherwise, she loved everything about Seoul and South Korea.

When they took her to Myeong-dong and Namdaemun Market, she marvelled at the marketplaces and the merchandise, amazed that these two places were more condensed and labyrinth-like than Diagon Alley.

They took her to Insa-dong on a Sunday, where the whole street was blocked from traffic, and many arts and crafts vendors filled up the streets. Luna adored that place, and there she said she had got new ideas for her future jewelleries.

She became enthralled with Korean architecture when they visited Gyeongbok Palace. Harry had given her a digital camera, and Luna had taken so many photographs that they had to go to the sprawling Yongsan Electronics Market later to stock up on more SD cards.

Luna, not really into the clubbing scene, still decided to check out the night life at Hongdae and Sinchon, and they even walked around Itaewon, bar-hopping on the side streets and in the so-called Hooker Hill area.

They rode the Han River cruise boat, and they went to the wealthier neighbourhoods in Gangnam district. From there they went to Coex Mall, and they visited a Buddhist temple, Bongeunsa, across from it.

They even managed to make a getaway to Gyeongju, the old capital of the Silla dynasty, and there Luna snapped more photographs of the old king’s burial mounds.

Finally, they stopped by Jeju Island, where Luna insisted that she wanted to see Love Land, the sex-themed theme park that is popular amongst honeymooners. Both Draco and Neville found themselves blushing, but Luna remained unfazed as she clicked away on her camera. “I can’t wait to show Harry these pictures,” she exclaimed at one point.

Unfortunately, all good things came to an end eventually, and Luna’s week was slowly, but surely coming to an end. On her last night in Seoul, Draco decided to surprise Luna.

“You have three tickets to a Dong Bang Shin Ki concert? And I get to meet them after the concert backstage?”

Draco chuckled. “Yes, you’re a VIP for today.”

Luna smiled widely, and she practically pounced on Draco as she hugged him. “Thank you so much! I can’t believe I get to hear them live and meet them! I better get ready!”

When she dashed off, Neville leaned over and whispered, “I hope you have earplugs ready for us.”

“Hrm?”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think my ears will appreciate millions of fangirls screaming for DBSK.”

“Oh, right.” Draco reached into his pockets and pulled out two pairs of earplugs. “I learned my lesson the last time I had to attend one of these things.”

Neville pulled Draco into a warm embrace. Draco felt warm lips grazing his forehead, and that gave him an idea. He arched upward, leaned in close until his breath ghosted over Neville’s ears, and said, “Want to try out some of those positions we saw at Love Land tonight?”

Draco sniggered at Neville’s sputtering and red face. He laughed even harder when Luna came out and asked, “Why so red, Nev?”

“He’s just a bit steamed up. Don’t worry about him.” Draco walked up to Luna, who was dressed in a simple black strapless dress. She had on tights that were striped in blue and bronze, and she wore a dangling kimbap earring. He held up an arm and said, “Let’s go, love.”

“Good morning!” Luna cheerfully greeted.

Draco and Neville stumbled towards the dining room. Neither were morning people, but they woke up early so they could pack and go back to England with Luna.

Draco stared at the plate in the middle of their table. It looked like carrot cakes, but they were cut into brownies. Both Draco and Neville sniffed the fragrance that permeated their whole place, and Draco knew then that whatever was on that plate was not carrot cake.

Neville cleared his throat and said, “Luna, is that . . . ”

“Oh, that? It’s my newest baking experiment. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I didn’t want to interrupt you two, so I made this — kimchi brownie!”

Instead of blushing, Draco and Neville both glanced at each other, and they both mirrored the other’s pale, blanched expression.

Click on the image for the larger version. Fanart by Heldrad.

“I baked this to thank you guys for the wonderful visit. The whole week has been fantastic, and last night was especially the best. All of the DBSK boys were adorable and fun. I especially loved talking to Changmin, and I am further convinced that he’s been reincarnated from a Nargle, which makes him extra special.”

Draco nodded and forced a smile on his face. “That’s great, Luna, and I am glad you had a wonderful visit, but, ah, I am not very hungry right now so I’ll try the brownies later, all right? Besides, Neville and I have to pack.”

Luna clapped her hands once. “Right! I need to pack, too! I’ll bring these brownies for our trip back to England. I’ve a feeling we might be receiving another visit from King Kong in Hong Kong, so these will come in handy. Plus, I can give some to Harry. He’ll love these.” She hummed and went to her room to pack.

Neville and Draco went to their room to pack, too. Behind the closed door, Draco muttered, “Don’t worry. I have some extra anti-acid potions for us.”

“Might as well save some for Harry, too. I’ve a feeling he’ll be eating most of those brownies,” Neville mentioned. “Oh, and are you sure Jaejoong will be able to take care of my plants?”

“He will. You know he aced herbology at his school.” Draco sniggered. “Otherwise, I can bring back Luna’s brownies and give them to him.”

“So cruel,” Neville teased as he carefully placed his grandmother’s gift, a beautiful celadon vase, in his trunk. “Still, I’m glad we’re going home for a week. It will be good to see everybody.”

“Yes.” Draco then added, “At least no one’s doorbell will play that blasted tune.”

“Someone really loves Beethoven, doesn’t he?”

“Ah, shut it, love. Let’s finish packing so we can take some of that potion. I’ve a very bad feeling we will be stuck in Hong Kong for a while. This is peak season for international Portkey travels.”

“Right. Do you really think King Kong hangs around in Hong Kong?”

Draco rolled his eyes and continued his packing.

“Draco! Vladimir is here. Remember, you have to take care of him this time.”

“I know, I know,” Draco groused. Despite his grumbling, he discovered that he and Vladimir got along way better than he and Hermes ever did. He served Vladimir some raw meat while Neville read out loud Luna’s letter.

Dear Draco and Neville,

Harry suggested that I send you some more kimchi brownies, so here’s another batch! I hope you guys enjoy these.

I really miss the two of you, and I am really thankful for all that you did for me when I visited last month.

The new school year at Hogwarts has started, and things have been incredibly busy. I’ve introduced Dong Bang Shin Ki to my Muggle Studies students, and all the girls love them. I’ve convinced Minerva to let Muggle electrical devices work just in my classroom. I’ve shown them all my DBSK DVDs, and I let them listen to their music any time they want.

Right now I am in the process of convincing Minerva to allow me to bring ten female students to South Korea during winter break for a few days. I’ve even told her that you’d be happy to house us while we are there. If you need assistance with room expansion charms, Harry will come along and lend a hand. He’ll be able to help me chaperone this winter. Ginny, too. She wants to come along and see the Korean brooms and purchase a few for her Flying class.

So what do you think? Will you be able to let us stay? Let me know as soon as possible!

Love,
Luna

P.S. — Hermes is now a father! When I come this winter, I’ll bring you one of his babies!

Draco and Neville stared at each other. Neither spoke for a while until Neville said, “Do you still have those earplugs?”

“Yeah. I guess we’ll need them if we host ten mad fangirls for a few days. Something tells me that Silencio will not block their squealing.”

Neville’s face turned green. “This will certainly be interesting.”

“Mmm . . . ” Draco scratched Vladimir’s head and asked, “Think I should introduce Luna to Super Junior?”

“If you do, you’re on your own hosting them this winter,” Neville deadpanned.

“But both Potter and Weasley are coming. You wouldn’t dare leave me defenceless against them and ten teenage girls, would you?”

“Well,” Neville conceded. “Fine, but introduce her to Super Junior after they leave!”

“Deal.”

Harry!

— Gred and Forge

As the powerful stench of garlic invaded his nostrils, Harry took trepid steps into the dangerous room known as the WTTR — Weasley Twins’ Testing Room — or the “Lair” as the twins fondly called it. Whatever they called it, it was a room no sane human — Muggle or magical — would enter. That was especially true for vampires or anybody allergic to garlic.

Harry watched Fred and George mumble to each other, and he cautiously peered into an open box, curious to see what their latest new product was.

Well, he didn’t exactly see a product, per se, but he did see a ton of garlic, all peeled and proudly displaying its pale, yellow-coloured exterior. He reeled back from their familiar scent; he could practically taste the garlic.

“Oh, hello, Harry!” Fred cheerfully said.

“Real glad you could come, mate!” George added.

“What . . . what are you making here?” Harry managed to wheeze out. He was starting to feel light-headed, and oddly enough, he began to crave garlic bread of all things.

George pulled out something, and it took Harry few minutes to figure out what it was. “What do you think?” George asked.

“It’s . . . it’s a bra, right?”

“Yes,” Fred answered.

“Made out of garlic.” He stared at the bra, stared at the breast covering and the straps, all made with garlic.

George nodded eagerly. He dangled the bra closer to Harry. “The cloves are magically attached to each other, and it took ages for us to figure out how to make it flexible so that once someone puts the strap on, it will magically clasp itself in the back. It will automatically adjust to fit any breast size.

“And,” Fred continued, “this is our other design. For the kinkier folks.”

Harry ogled the second design. The garlic cloves were put together to form an outline of the bra, and in the centre of each breast covering part — he had no idea what the proper term was — there was a single clove of garlic there, obviously meant to cover the nipples. Otherwise, the breasts would be fully exposed if it was worn. He coughed. “Well, it’s certainly . . . kinky? But what’s with this fascination with garlic?”

“You know how we went to South Korea to see if we could expand our business there?” Fred explained. “Well, we discovered that the Koreans there are absolute fanatics for garlic in their cuisines. Everything they make–”

“–garlic is always included,” George piped in. “In fact, one of our potential business partners joked that South Korea is one country vampires would never visit because of all their garlic. That’s when we had this idea . . . ”

” . . . to make garlic undergarments!” Fred finished with a beaming smile.

Harry’s mouth dropped opened. “I guess it’s a creative idea, but how is this going to appeal to the public?”

“It will. Especially when we finish the Speedo-style pants. This will be perfect for those who want to ward off unwanted advances,” George spoke as he jotted something down on his notebook.

“And if they want the advances, all they have to do is say ‘Allium sativum’ — that’s the Muggle scientific name for garlic, mind you — and it will change to chocolate, which is perfect since we all know chocolate is a delicious aphrodisiac!” Fred clapped his hands once. “Now, we’d like you to test this product for us.”

“Excuse me?” Harry couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. “Test it?”

Fred and George both nodded with evil, identical smiles. George summoned something, and he promptly gave it to Harry. “As our silent partner, you have the honour of getting the first garlic boxers from our store. Thankfully, we know your lover likes both garlic and chocolate.”

Flushing, Harry felt warmth in his cheeks and his ears. “Well, I suppose Neville likes both, but–”

“No buts!” Fred began to push Harry out the door. “We won’t accept your refusal. Just try it out and let us know how it goes. And don’t worry. We’ve charmed it so the garlic won’t be so spicy that it hurts your privates or wherever it touches!”

“Good to know,” Harry muttered as he walked out the door.

“Let us know in twenty-four hours how it went!”

Not sure and not caring who said that last bit, Harry Apparated to his flat — the one he shared with Neville — in a daze.

The Quibbler
Special Edition #10 — March 2001

Endorsed by war heroes, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, these products have gained quick popularity. We at The Quibbler theorised that the Nargles and the Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks also like these products, and they are affecting the wizarding society’s sexual behaviours, making wizards and witches of all ages enjoy these unique bits of paraphernalia.

If you haven’t tried these ingenious undergarments, we highly recommend it. Perfect for those who love garlic and chocolate, and excellent for those who wish to ensure no vampires will sneak into their bed as they sleep.

Severus rushed away from Spinner’s End, eager to get to the little clearing in the woods. It was a quiet clearing, surrounded by tall trees, currently covered with snow. This little clearing was a special place that he and Lily played in, both considering it their secret hideout.

As he walked down the snow-covered streets, he brought his cold hands up to blow at them, trying to warm them up. He shoved his hands into his pockets. The wind stung his cheeks, and he ducked his head down to avoid it. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the Christmas decorations still on some people’s houses, unlike his own dark, undecorated dwelling, and he was glad that Christmas was over.

When he reached the entrance of the clearing, he shoved the branches away and slipped past them, ignoring the snow that had fallen on his head, and he saw Lily already there, smiling. As usual, she had on a colourful matching set of hat, mittens, and a scarf. Her bright green eyes gleaming, she waved one of her mitten-clad hands. “Hi, Severus!”

He smiled back, but he didn’t wave, keeping his hands still in his pockets. “Hi, Lily. Did you have a good Christmas?”

“The best! How about you? Did you get some nice presents?”

He nodded briskly. “It was fine.” It wasn’t, but he had no intention of telling her that or that her little gift — a book about the Arthurian legends — was the only gift he’d received for the holidays. Quickly, he changed the subject. “I looked through one of my mum’s old books a couple of days ago. I discovered something called frostyworms. Apparently they are magical worms, some kind of flobberworm, and they can be found in snow. My mum said they can be found around here.”

That was before his father had started yelling at his mum. It was one of the worst fights he’d seen his parents have, and he could still hear the shouts and screams. He didn’t want to think of it, though, and he only thought about finding the frostyworms because he wanted to try the Snowflake Potion. He’d read that if it was poured onto an object, the potion would transform into snow for a while. Even though there was a lot of snow around him, he still wanted to try it since it would be quite handy to have in the summer. “Want to help look for them?” he asked, hoping she’d agreed. He knew how girls were about worms and bugs. He’d seen Petunia scream over spiders, cockroaches, and worms all the time.

“Sure!” Lily said enthusiastically, which surprised him. “Are they potions ingredients, too? You want to find them and practise potions, right? We’ll be turning eleven in another year or so.” She bit her bottom lip. “Do you really think I’ll get a Hogwarts letter, too?”

Severus nodded hard. He knew she was a witch, and he could tell she would be a good one. Last year, before they’d first talked, he had been watching Lily and Petunia from behind some bushes. Apparently Petunia did something to annoy Lily, and to his and Petunia’s amazement, Lily’s annoyance had made her do some wandless magic. Interestingly enough, Lily had made real petunias sprout out on top of Petunia’s head. Severus would never forget the look of horror on Petunia’s face, and now that he knew Petunia, he thought that was a fitting punishment for her! “You will. And we’ll go to Hogwarts together. I’m going to make the Snowflake Potion, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“That’d be great! But we have to dig for them, right? We’ll need shovels or something.”

Severus’ brows furrowed together. “Yeah.” He’d forgotten about that. Then again, his family didn’t have any shovels.

“We have two at my house! Let’s go get them.” Lily grabbed Severus’ wrist, tugging so his hand slipped out of his pocket. With his hand in her mitten-covered one, they walked out of the clearing and went towards her house. As they walked, he couldn’t help but revel in the fact that his hand felt warmer in Lily’s as opposed to in his pocket. It was strange because his pocket was usually much warmer. He shrugged, though, and let himself be dragged along by Lily’s enthusiasm.

“Oof!” Lily said, throwing a pile of snow over her shoulder. “Snow’s sure heavy.”

Severus grunted in agreement. “I can’t wait until we can legally do magic. It’d be easier to Accio these frostyworms.”

“That’s the summoning or another spell, right? It’d be easier, I agree, but I think this is more fun. And this is exercise — ah-ha!” Lily exclaimed. She pointed at something in the snow. “Is that your frostyworm?”

Severus looked at the wriggling worm. It was blue, fat, and squishy, and it looked rather . . . disgusting. More disgusting than the picture in his mum’s book. “I’m not touching that!”

Lily took off one of her mittens, stuffed it into her pocket, and reached out to grab the frostyworm. She picked it up gingerly between two fingers and brought the frostyworm close to her face and studied it. “I think it looks cute.”

Severus shook his head emphatically and made a face.

Lily giggled and stepped closer to Severus and practically shoved the frostyworm into his face. “Look at it.”

“Lily!” Severus shrieked and backed away. Shuddering he said, “I don’t want it near me!”

Rolling her eyes, she set the worm down on her other hand, watching it crawl around the woollen material. “How are you going to be a Potions master if you can’t stand the sight of your own ingredients?”

“How come you’re not like other girls who squeal when they see bugs and other creepy stuff?” Severus retorted.

“Please. I’m not like Petunia! I like this stuff. Maybe I should become a Potions master if I go to Hogwarts. Or should that be Potions mistress? No, that doesn’t sound quite right . . . ”

While she pondered on that, Severus pouted. Lily did have a point — he would have to get used to handling disgusting potions ingredients. And if Lily — a girl — could touch a frostyworm and not get sick, then by all means, so could he!

Determinedly, he pushed his disgust deep inside, and he reached out to touch the frostyworm in Lily’s hand. It did feel slimy and cold, but he repeatedly reminded himself that it wouldn’t hurt him, that it was a harmless little bug that he could overpower; after all, he was larger than the frostyworm!

He quickly got used to it, and eventually, he had the entire thing in his own hand.

Lily gave him a smug look. “See? It’s not bad.”

Snortling, he said, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not so bad.”

“Good. Now, go make that potion!”

Severus came to the clearing first. Waiting for Lily, he sat on his haunches and he found a stick and drew random doodles in the snow. However, he had to stop every few minutes to warm his hands up. Whether he blew on them, put them in his pocket, or pulled his sleeves over them, it didn’t work. His hands were too cold.

When Lily finally arrived, he stood up and threw the stick aside. “Hi.”

“Hi. I had to do chores with Petunia, but she was too busy complaining and whining. Honestly. She’s older than me, but I feel like I’m more mature than her!” Lily grabbed the stick he had thrown, and she continued his drawing. “You’re lucky you’re an only child.”

Severus agreed and disagreed with her statement. He thought about how lonely it was to be an only child, but if he had to have a sibling like Petunia — who was not only a cow, but an evil, soul-sucking cow — he’d rather eat dirt! “I guess,” he said noncommittally.

“How’s your potion?”

“It’s kind of hard,” he admitted, “but it’s just that my hands get too cold at home. Our house’s heating system has its good and bad days.” Truthfully, his house had no heat since his father hadn’t paid the bills for this month, but he decided not to tell Lily the entire truth. He bit his lip. He didn’t like talking about his home situation with her.

“Oh, I see.” She looked thoughtful. “Well, I’m in a mood for hot chocolate. Plus, Mummy made raspberry tarts. Mummy knows you like her tarts. Let’s go to my place and get some.”

Hot chocolate and raspberry tarts . . . things he didn’t have at his house. And there was also the fact that Lily’s house was heated, and Severus longed for that warmth. Something his own home lacked in more ways than one. Trying not to appear too eager, he said, “All right.”

Hand in hand, one in mitten and one in nothing, they walked down the snow-covered streets to Lily’s house.

Severus was bored. And cold. And sick of staying in his house. Then there were his parents. He could tell that both of them were in bad moods, so another one of their famous fights would happen soon. Sighing, he decided to go see if Lily was free.

He walked through the cold streets, and he saw that the blasted Christmas decorations were still up on some people’s houses. It was almost New Year’s. Why did these people not take down the cheerful decorations? Seeing them only reminded him of his home life and what he lacked. All his life, his family had never decorated for Christmas. No wreath, no stockings, no nothing. His place was always cheerless.

At the next intersection, he turned at the corner of Lily’s street, and there he saw Lily running towards her house.

“Lily!” he called out.

She stopped and smiled. “Hi!”

“Want to play?” he asked hopefully.

She frowned slightly. “Oh, I want to, but I can’t today. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Oh.” Awkwardly, he shuffled his feet. “Maybe later then?”

“Sure! I’ll see you.” She waved and dashed off.

Forlornly, he stared at Lily’s retreating figure, and he let out a sigh. Well, he thought, he could always go to the public library nearby. That was surely a better idea than standing around in the cold. In the opposite direction, he walked slowly to the library, wishing Lily was there to accompany him.

“Oh, Seveeeeerus.”

Severus stifled back a groan and bit his tongue from going on a rampage at the annoying voice that called out to him. Even though his back was turned to the person, he knew exactly who it was. There was only one person who had that annoyingly high-pitched, screeching voice, and the person was none other than Petunia Evans.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face Petunia with a blank expression. “Yes?”

Her smile, which looked fake and ugly on that long face of hers, grew wider as she said, “Why are you alone? Do you have no one else to play with now that Lily has a new friend?”

“Friend?” Severus’ eye widened. “What friend?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Petunia looked surprised. “Well, she’s so occupied, so I guess it’s not surprising she wouldn’t make the time to tell you.”

Even though he was upset, he decided he didn’t want Petunia to know that her words had upset and surprised him. “Oh, right, that friend. I know. So?”

She snorted, which reminded him of a horse. Then again, her face was indeed long, so he could definitely see the resemblance. “You’re a terrible liar. But whatever. It won’t be long before Lily realises that her new friend’s a lot better than you.” With that, she flounced off.

Severus, at that moment, had never hated anyone this much. “You’re the liar. Lily would tell me if she’s got a new friend!” he snapped at the empty street. He stomped in the opposite direction. He was furious — not only at Petunia’s words, but he was also miffed for showing his weakness to her. He remembered reading about Occlumency, and he decided he’d master that when he turned older, and he’d also learn how to mask his face from showing any emotions that would give him away. He would never let anybody like Petunia mock him again!

Severus managed to catch Lily outside her house a few days later. He grabbed her hand, which was in her richly coloured mitten as usual, and he noticed his pale hand contrasting against the vibrant material. “Lily, can we talk?”

“Hmm?” She glanced down at her watch. “Not now. I’ve got a meeting with someone today! An important meeting.”

He stepped back and let go of her hand as if he’d been slapped. “I see . . . ” Maybe Petunia was telling the truth. “Well,” he continued blandly, “have fun.” He turned around and ran off, ignoring her calls of “Severus, wait!”

He ran and ran until his stomach cramped, and when he came to their secret hideout, he fell down on top of the snow, not caring that his clothes would get wet. Hot tears came down his face, and he muffled his sobs by stuffing his hand into his mouth. Sod it all, he thought. If Lily had found a new friend and chose that person over him, then forget her! He didn’t need her or his parents! He only needed himself. At least, that was what he tried to convince himself for the rest of the day. Whether he succeeded or not, he didn’t care too much on that. Deep inside, more than anything, he only wanted Lily’s friendship.

But it looked like even his friendship with Lily was deteriorating. He miserably realised that with his birthday around the corner, this was the worst present he could ever receive.

A few days later, his birthday came. His mother had wished him a happy birthday while his father just ignored him. But Severus did not feel happy. Instead, he moped around his room in the morning. He’d stared at the blank walls and studied its cracks. That got boring, so he went to his hideout to mope and stare at the tree’s trunks, its branches, and all the snow around him. It wasn’t much better than his room, but at least he could get some peace and quiet here instead of listening to his parents arguing.

Like before, he found a stick, and he crouched to the ground and drew in the snow without really thinking about what he was drawing. When he finished he stood up and saw that he’d drawn Lily. In the drawing, her hair was down, and she was smiling that friendly smile of hers. He felt a pang in his heart, and he let out a loud sigh. “What am I doing?” he muttered to himself.

Throwing the stick, he was about to erase the drawing, but he froze when he heard a noise behind him. He blinked when he saw Lily coming into the clearing, and he gave her a wary look.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he repeated.

“I, er, wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

He didn’t say anything. He only stared down at his feet with a scowl.

“And to apologise.” His head snapped up and he stared at her. She gave him a small smile. “I found out what Petunia said to you. What she made you believe is all a lie. I . . . I didn’t make a new friend. But it is true I had an important meeting . . . but it was with my aunt!” She made a face. “I was doing something with her.”

“Oh . . . ” Severus now shifted uncomfortably. “It . . . it’s okay. I didn’t believe her anyway.”

Lily cocked her head and stared at him. Her green eyes were intense, and he almost could feel them burning into her, but he refused to blush and show her that she was right. Thankfully, she only nodded. When he saw her arms move, he realised that they’d been behind her back this entire time. “Here,” she said, revealing a wrapped package. “It’s your birthday present.”

This time he couldn’t hide his emotion. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth dropped opened. “What?”

She beamed. “This was why I hadn’t played with you lately. I had to finish this in time for your birthday! Take it!” She nudged the package, and he accepted it. “Now, open it!”

“T-thank you.” The words almost didn’t come out from his clogged up throat. Slowly, he unwrapped the green-coloured paper, and he peeked inside. What he saw were mittens. Rainbow-coloured mittens. He looked at her.

“My aunt taught me how to knit those.”

He looked down at the mittens and studied them closer. He saw that the thumb coverings were a bit on the wide side. He could see small holes and tangled up yarn in some places. One mitten was slightly bigger than the other. The colours blinded him. Honestly, it was probably the worst pair of mittens he’d ever seen.

But he didn’t care.

This was the first time anyone had ever made him something.

All sorts of emotions flooded over him, and Severus ducked his head to hide the tears that threatened to spill. He blinked them away, and he said softly, “Thank you. They’re brilliant.” Shoving the wrappings into his pockets, he slipped the mittens on his hands. As soon as his hands were encased in the imperfectly made mittens, he felt them grow instantly warm.

“Oh, I’m glad they fit!” Lily squealed, clapping her hands. “And I know you like black, but I decided to knit you a rainbow pair. You need more colour in your life, Severus! Being in black all the time is utterly depressing!”

“But I like black.”

“You’re hopeless,” she joked. “Just like your drawing skills. Since when do I have gigantic lips?”

Severus gave her a mock glare. “You’re the one to talk. You can’t even draw period!”

“Hey! Not nice!” She quickly bent over and made a snowball.

Before Severus could stop her, the snowball hit his face. “Payback time!” He made his own snowball, and he was pleased to see that his hands stayed warm as he threw it at her.

Laughter rang out in the small clearing, and snow went flying all over the place as they both tried to snow each other out. Severus’ drawing of Lily disappeared, and the two of them shrieked and yelled as they chased each other all over.

It wasn’t long before they both leaned against a tree and panted from their chase. “That was fun,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” Severus agreed. Staring up at the trees, he could see sunlight coming through the branches. The warmth he felt from the sun and from running around with his best friend made him smile wider. “It was fun.”

“Let’s end today with some hot chocolate at my place. And cake.” She grabbed his hand, no longer naked and cold. “I helped make it! Don’t worry. Petunia didn’t go anywhere near the cake. So it won’t have salt or any other disgusting thing in it. I swear, she can’t cook anything!”

Again, his throat tightened, and he could only nod. She gently tugged him, and hand in hand, they walked down the street.

“Tomorrow, let’s go look for more frostyworms. We’ve got to cure you of your bug-and-other-crawly-stuff-phobia.” Lily grinned. “I’ll make sure you become the best Potions master in the world.”

Finding his voice, Severus answered, “Deal. You can be my partner-in-crime as we come up with new potions that will change the world!”

“And,” she added, “I’ll get you to wear more colours.”

Severus groaned. “Whatever.”

“Watch me!”

When they entered Lily’s warm house, Severus said to himself, “You already have me in colours.” He looked at their entwined hands. “I am in colour now.”

1979 — Horcrux Cave

Surrounded by the darkness, Regulus gasped out, “Lumos”. His throat burned him in ways he never imagined possible. His insides hurt him, making him feel like he had thousands of knives stuck in him. Stumbling, he focused his dry and itchy eyes to seek out the boat he had to get to, but he didn’t see any boat. Instead, he fell to the ground, and he half-crawled and half-dragged himself forward as he shut his eyes in vain to keep the terrible visions from affecting him. Along with the visions, memories of his past came swarming in pieces, and he groaned loudly as he buried his face into the wet earth.

“Sirius . . . ”

1965 — 12 Grimmauld Place

“Siri!” Regulus whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, just as another peal of thunder exploded outside their house.

Jumping in fright, Regulus covered his mouth, his eyes wide, as he crept towards Sirius’ bed. When he was close, he asked, “Can I sleep with you? I don’t like the scary noises.”

“You know Mother doesn’t like this. She says we’re pure-blood wizards, so we have to be proud, noble, and strong!”

Regulus whimpered, “Just one more time? Just now? Please, Siri?”

“Why don’t you go to Kreacher?”

“I want to stay with you. Please, Siri?” Regulus implored again.

“Oh, fine,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes and moving over for Regulus to slide in. Happily, Regulus slipped into the warm bed, and he felt protected with his big, strong brother next to him. Snuggling next to Sirius’ side, he said, “Night, Siri.”

“Night, Reg. Just wake up when I tell you to so you can go back to your room! Let’s not upset Mother tomorrow morning.”

“I will,” Regulus answered in a sleepy voice.

1967 — 12 Grimmauld Place

“Are you sure you can do this?” Sirius whispered.

Regulus bobbed his head vigorously. “I can do this, Sirius. I can. I’ll make you proud.” He smiled widely, and he tucked the prank item into his pocket. “I can’t wait to try this on Cissy!”

Sirius and Regulus shared one last conspiratorial look before they walked into the small but majestic looking dining room for the weekly dinner with their relatives. Regulus avoided looking at Narcissa, but he did greet his aunts and uncles politely. As he took a seat, he breathed out in relief that Bellatrix was at Hogwarts instead of here. Without her scary presence, Regulus felt comfortable enough to pull this prank on Narcissa.

It wasn’t long before a huge screech was heard all over 12 Grimmauld Place, and Regulus couldn’t help but snigger at the image of his cousin looking like a drowned, greasy rat. The old bucket trick with water and oil was simple but effective. Plus, her long locks looked like a rainbow, but, unfortunately, there was no pot of gold at its end. A simple serum from Zonko’s had done the trick, and Regulus was pleased that he’d managed to sneak some of it onto her plate of food . . . with the help of Kreacher!

For the first time ever, his parents knew that this prank wasn’t one of Sirius’. In fact, they immediately knew it was him — most likely because of Regulus’ poor attempt to hide his amusement — and he suffered one of the worst beatings he’d ever gone through in his life.

He didn’t mind, though. When Sirius came to check up on him, he’d slugged Regulus’ sore shoulder and said, “Good job, little brother. You’ve managed to outdo me with Cissy. You’ve definitely made me proud.”

Regulus gave Sirius a beaming smile. “Let’s do another prank! This time on Dromeda when she comes back for the holidays.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but his eyes twinkled with mirth. “You sure? Well, Dromeda’s nothing like Bella and Cissy. I think she likes our pranks.”

Nodding eagerly, Regulus gingerly moved over on his bed to give Sirius some room. When he felt the bed dip with his brother’s familiar and comforting weight, he exclaimed, “Yeah! Let’s do something brilliant with Dromeda!”

1969 — 12 Grimmauld Place

Regulus backed up against the wall, and he struggled to hide his fear from Sirius. He’d never seen his brother this angry before. “I didn’t tell them!”

He watched Sirius’ scowl deepened, watched the way his brother’s grey eyes lit up with fierce rage. “Then how did Mother and Father find out about my friendship with David?”

“I don’t know!”

“You told them! After you promised not to tell!”

“I . . . I didn’t!” Regulus spat out. “They probably found out by themselves!” Now he was angry with Sirius’ accusations, and he yelled, “It’s your fault for being friends with that Muggle! Why can’t you just have friends who are like us?”

“Like us?” Sounding disgusted, Sirius continued, “You’re just like them. You–! And I thought you’d believe differently from them.” Spinning around, he stomped up to his room.

“Blast . . . ” Regulus sank to the ground, giving relief to his shaky legs. Tears came to his eyes, and he hastily wiped them away. He hadn’t meant to say that to Sirius. He wanted to support Sirius, but he also wanted to support his parents. He’d never wanted to choose sides.

Now, though, it looked like he had to choose.

1971 — 12 Grimmauld Place

Regulus watched his parents eat their breakfast with sour looks. It was the second of September, and his parents were in dour moods because they hadn’t heard from Sirius yet.

“If he doesn’t send an owl today, I’m sending him a Howler. How dare does he make us worry like this?” Walburga set her fork down hard enough that the table shook.

Orion grunted in agreement.

Regulus remained silent, knowing it wasn’t wise to say anything now since his mother’s rage might turn towards him.

Just then, an owl fluttered in, and all three of them looked at it. Regulus blinked at the tawny owl. It wasn’t Sirius’. Instead, it belonged to Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella.

Walburga quickly grabbed parchment, and Regulus watched as his mother’s curious expression transformed into disbelief and anger. Her fingers gripped the parchment until it began to wrinkle. “I don’t believe it!”

Orion looked at her warily. “What does it say?”

“Narcissa owled my brother and Druella with some news. According to Narcissa. Sirius has been sorted into Gryffindor!” Spittle sprayed the parchment, and Regulus could imagine smoke coming out of her nostrils. “How . . . how dare he?! How dare he bring disgrace to our name?” She turned and glared at Orion. “It’s all your fault! You’ve been too easy on him over the years!”

“My fault?” Orion snapped back, now slamming his own utensils down on the table, making the poor table rattle once more. “If anything, it’s your fault for acting like a harpy! Sirius is independent, like his father. You shouldn’t have tried so hard. It only pushed him away!”

As his parents shouted at each other, Regulus shrank down in his chair until he was almost off of it. He tried his best to tune the noises out, and he thought about Sirius’ sorting. With the way his brother had been acting lately, he should have seen this coming. In a way, it made perfect sense for his brother to be sorted into the house with the blood traitors, and he grew angry at how Sirius’ betrayal was causing more trouble between their parents.

By the time his parents had calmed down, Regulus had made a vow. He’d made a vow to not follow his brother’s path. After all, someone had to maintain the Black family’s reputation, and he was the only one left to do so.

He couldn’t help but feel a pang inside of him. Doing what his parents wanted would mean he and Sirius would never get along. Like that time when Sirius had accused him of telling their parents about David, Regulus was once more obligated to choose a side. Now, with certainty, Regulus finally made his choice.

1972 — Hogwarts

“Slytherin!”

Regulus jumped off the stool, after taking the hat off, and walked over to his cheering house-mates. He’d done it. He’d fulfilled his duties, and he was in Slytherin. Just like a real Black was supposed to do. Taking a seat, he glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Its occupants were quiet, and most of them had an apathetic expression; some wore sneers. But it was Sirius’ face he saw. His brother’s face was a picture of disgust, and Regulus felt his insides churn unpleasantly.

He knew this day was coming. Now that it had come, Regulus didn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he would. Instead, he knew that whatever chance he’d had to get on his brother’s good side was now gone.

However, he didn’t want his brother to know that. He didn’t want to appear weak to Sirius. So he sneered at his brother, and he then turned to his house-mates and accepted them as his new “family”.

1973 — Hogwarts

“You all right, Reg? Your skin’s our house colour . . . and I don’t mean silver.”

Regulus took a deep breath as he fought down his nausea. He forced a smile at Barty, his new best friend. Barty was only a first year, and even though Regulus was older, he and Barty clicked instantly when the former was sorted into Slytherin. Since their first night together, the two had been inseparable. “I’m fine. Just nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’re a good flyer, and you’ve been practising almost every day, so you’ll make the team! And with you on the team, we’ll beat the other houses in Quidditch! Your Seeker skills will be unrivalled!”

Regulus tried not to blush from Barty’s praises. Luckily, he was distracted when they bumped into Sirius and his friends.

Regulus watched Sirius’ grey eyes glance at the broom he was carrying.

“Trying out for Quidditch, are you?” Sirius drawled, as he smirked.

Tensing up, Regulus’ nausea was replaced with something akin to anger. “Yes,” he answered testily.

“So my ickle, little brother thinks he’ll be the new Seeker to bring the Slytherin team fame and glory, huh?” Sirius and James laughed while Remus and Peter stayed quiet.

“Oh, yeah. Too bad I’m not a Beater. Otherwise, I’d love the chance to smash a Bludger or two into your brother’s face . . . if he makes the team that is,” James said.

Infuriated, Regulus grabbed Barty’s wrist, and they edged around the group and dashed out to the Quidditch pitch. His brother’s scornful laughter rang in his head, and he determinedly said, “I’ll show him! And that Potter prat! I’ll show them that they should never mock us Slytherins.”

Barty nodded. “You can do it, Reg. I know you can.”

“I will!”

When his turn came, Regulus channelled his anger into energy and determination. He flew faster and better than before, and his sharp eyes flickered back and forth as he looked for the golden glint of the Snitch.

And he did it. He made the team, and he vowed to play his best and beat those Gryffindor pricks in every game he played against them.

1974 — Hogwarts

“I can’t wait until I’m in third year,” Barty said. “Then we could have fun in Hogsmeade together.”

Regulus grinned as he passed over some sweets he’d bought at Honeydukes. “Yeah. Then I won’t have to buy stuff for you and carry it. You can buy and carry your own stuff when we go next year,” he teased, but he didn’t mind. Barty was his best friend. He’d do anything for him.

They reached the lake’s dock and sat at the edge, letting their legs dangle above the murky waters. They ate their sweets in silence. After a few minutes of peace, in hushed tones, Barty said, “I’ve heard the older students talking about the Dark Lord.”

“You mean Lord Voldemort?” Regulus said quietly. “Yeah, I’ve heard about him.”

“What do you think of him?”

Pausing, Regulus sorted out what he knew of Lord Voldemort. He didn’t know much. He only knew that Lord Voldemort valued blood purity, and he’d heard rumours about Lord Voldemort wanting to get rid of Mudbloods and half-bloods from the wizarding world. He also heard of Lord Voldemort’s power, and he found himself attracted to all of it. He was especially attracted to the ideas of traditional principles and values. Things were changing too fast in the wizarding society. Muggle-borns were bringing their odd items into Hogwarts and changing what it meant to be a wizard. Lord Voldemort would surely put a stop to all that. “He fascinates me.”

“Me too. Nott told me about the Death Eaters. Would you ever join them?”

Regulus had heard about them as well. He’d heard about them because of Bellatrix. With Andromeda now not a part of the Black family because of that Mudblood she married, Bellatrix and Narcissa were the cousins he saw the most. Over the summer, he’d heard about Bellatrix praising Lord Voldemort. She’d joined the Death Eater, and she told him a lot about the group, and Regulus found himself wanting to join, too. “Bella told me about it a bit. I think I’d like to join. I can tell Bella we’re interested . . . do you want me to?”

Barty nodded eagerly, and Regulus’ enthusiasm grew. “Great!” Regulus exclaimed. “I’ll tell her. Maybe we can join and be the youngest Death Eaters ever. Wouldn’t that be something?”

“Yeah! After all, we’re Slytherin. We’re pure-bloods. We’ve got to show those Mudbloods and those half-bloods who are the rightful wizards and witches.”

“I’ll owl her tonight. In the meantime, pass me another Chocolate Frog.”

1975 — The Hog’s Head

“Bella . . . is this really a good idea?” Regulus asked, peering over her shoulders to make sure nobody spotted them in the alleyway.

“Shut up!” Bellatrix hissed. “Let me cast a Disillusionment Charm on you two, so I can take you boys into the Hog’s Head.”

Regulus and Barty glanced at each other and remained quiet as Bellatrix cast the charm. She then led the way to the Hog’s Head, and they entered with no problems. They followed her to a dark corner, and there they met Lord Voldemort for the first time. Regulus’ breath hitched when Lord Voldemort stood up to greet them.

Lord Voldemort was tall. Not that Regulus was short, but Lord Voldemort just felt taller. He could feel power emanating from the man, and it felt tangible. He looked at Lord Voldemort’s face. It was a handsome face, with a smile that showed dimples and straight, white teeth. Lord Voldemort really was good looking, and Regulus felt attracted to him.

When he looked into Lord Voldemort’s dark brown eyes, he could see intelligence and cunningness lingering there. And when Lord Voldemort first spoke, his deep voice resonated in ways that sent shivers of lust down Regulus’ back.

“You must be Regulus and Barty,” Lord Voldemort said with a pleased smile. “I’m always happy to meet members of my former house. Let’s sit down.”

With awe, Regulus sat, and for the next hour or so, he could barely concentrate on what Lord Voldemort was saying. All Regulus knew was that he was going to join the Death Eaters as soon as possible. This, he thought, was his destiny. He’d be happy to serve someone this magnificent and powerful. Who needed half-bloods like Dumbledore? No, he’d follow this pure-blooded wizard to all ends of time.

1976 — Hogwarts

Regulus backed up against the wall, and he cursed to himself. Defiantly, he glared back at Crabbe and Goyle. They were Beaters on the Slytherin team. They’d just lost a game yesterday, and they were blaming Regulus.

“How could you let Prewett get that Snitch? Are you blind?” Crabbe demanded.

Regulus turned red at the accusation. He didn’t mean to let the Gryffindor Seeker get to the Snitch before him, but he did, and he felt regretful about it, but these two were making it sound like Regulus had done this on purpose. “Back off and leave me alone. Why didn’t you two smash that Bludger towards him? I bet you two couldn’t hit a bloody dragon with that kind of aim.”

“Shut up! You’re asking for a beating, and we’ll give it to you!” Goyle thundered, raising his fist. But before he could swing it, a deep voice rang out.

“What’s going on here?”

Behind Crabbe and Goyle was a Ravenclaw prefect. A boy named Kingsley Shacklebolt, if Regulus remembered correctly. All he knew was that Kingsley was a half-blood.

Crabbe and Goyle mumbled, “Nothing.”

Calmly, Kingsley said, “Detention, for the both of you. Report to Mr Filch tonight at seven. You may leave now.”

Regulus smirked at the way Crabbe and Goyle ran off, but then he was alone in the corridor with Kingsley, and unfortunately, he now owed Kingsley, which was something he did not want! He didn’t want to owe anybody anything — with the exception of Barty — and being in debt to a mere half-blood made him cranky.

A long silence passed, and Kingsley said, “You’re welcome.”

He could hear amusement in Kingsley’s voice, and he scowled. “I didn’t thank you.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“I don’t need to thank a half-blood like you,” Regulus snapped. He knew he was being rude, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to bow his head and play nice with a half-blooded prefect.

Kingsley cocked his head. “Does my blood status matter that much? We’re both human. Are we that much different?”

Regulus’ tirade stopped and all he could say was, “We just are.”

“We both bleed when injured. We both need food and water. We’re both capable of casting the same spells,” Kingsley said wisely.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably. What Kingsley said made sense, but he wasn’t ever going to admit that. “It matters, okay?” Stiffly, he forced himself to look at Kingsley’s face. He felt a sense of calm come over him, and he wondered why. Was Kingsley that much more powerful than him because of his blood status? Or was it because of his prefect status? Regulus wasn’t sure, but he shoved these conflicting thoughts aside, and he grudgingly said, “Thank you.”

“Here,” Kingsley said, handing him some library books. “Will you return these to the library for me? I’d appreciate it.”

This was Kingsley’s way of clearing Regulus’ debt. Regulus quickly accepted it, and he nodded. Kingsley left, and Regulus was alone with a pile of books. He stared at them, realising that Kingsley had given him an easy way out, and he felt cheated. The pure-blood traditionalist inside of him knew that this was not enough to cover the debt, but he somehow knew that Kingsley really didn’t expect much, and Regulus was disturbed by that fact. Why hadn’t Kingsley demanded something more from him? Why didn’t Kingsley use the opportunity?

“Honourable gits,” Regulus spat out in the deserted corridor. “That’s all they are. They are the weaker and inferior ones. It’s their faults they don’t take advantage of power!”

1977 — Somewhere in Hogsmeade

Losing his balance from the Portkey’s effect, Regulus fell, the sharp pebbles digging into his stomach and the palms of his hands. Glancing around, he saw that he was in one of Hogsmeade’s dark alleyways. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and promptly vomited all over the dirt road. The pain in his left arm was secondary only to his pounding head, and he could feel tears streaming down his face as he continued retching up everything in his stomach.

What he had seen tonight was terrifying. He had to watch Lord Voldemort and his most loyal followers torture helpless Muggles. He rolled over onto his side, and he brought his hands up to cover his ears. He tried his best to block out all the screaming and the begging he had witnessed. He shut his eyes to erase the horrified expression on the Muggles’ faces — he just wanted to forget it all.

Worst of all, for his own initiation, he had to torture a small child who had looked to be no older than five. Of all the cries and screams he heard tonight, this child’s anguish was truly horrible — enough to make him re-think his decision. Somehow, though, he went with it. Pointing his wand, his voice low and guttural, he had said, “Crucio!”

He didn’t know how many times he said that spell. He didn’t want to remember.

He didn’t even know how he felt about Lord Voldemort anymore. What he saw tonight was not the same charismatic man he’d met two years ago. What had replaced that man tonight was something non-human, something with power and authority, but something Regulus was now frightened of.

Before he started sobbing, a goat bleeted out, and he heard a rough voice say, “Lumos.”

The sudden brightness made Regulus turn away. As he adjusted his eyes, he looked up and saw a familiar, old wizard. It was the owner of the Hog’s Head.

“Aren’t you one of those crazy lads always hanging off Tom Riddle’s every word? And always under some Disillusionment Charm? Why in Merlin’s name are you out here disturbing my goats?”

Startled, Regulus reached out with his left arm to grab something to pull himself up. The old wizard glanced at his arm, and Regulus realised that his Dark Mark showed. Quickly, he stood up and pulled his robe sleeve down.

The old wizard exhaled loudly. “I see. You’re one of them. Another young, pure-blood fool joining up with the biggest hypocrite of this century.”

Despite his horrible night, Regulus hated being called a fool. Against his better judgement, he retorted, “I’m not a fool, you . . . you ancient goat lover!”

“That is not my name, boy. The name’s Aberforth, so if you’re going to address me, get it right, you silly nitwit!”

Regulus swiped at his face, wiping away the tear stains, and he glared at Aberforth. “Stop insulting me!”

“Then wise up, boy! Why are you hanging around with that Riddle? Is it because you believe in Riddle’s so-called agenda to get rid of those who aren’t pure-blood? If so, like I said, you’re a fool.”

Turning around, Aberforth started to walk out of the alleyway, and Regulus bit back another retort that nearly escaped him. Instead, he felt as if a goat had rammed into his head, and he sank back to the ground on his knees, cradling his throbbing head in his hands. Groaning, he heard footsteps coming back towards him, and he saw Aberforth hovering over him. “Go away,” he mumbled.

Aberforth exhaled another monstrous sigh, and he said, “Come on in. You can sleep in my place for the night. Hope you’ve slept on hay before. It might make you get itchy in certain places.”

Regulus felt strong arms — at least strong for someone quite old — helping him up, and next thing he knew, he was being thrown onto a pile of hay. Even though he knew he had to go back to Hogwarts — Barty, who wouldn’t get initiated until next month, was waiting for him — as soon as his body hit that pile of hay, he went to sleep.

Instead of sleeping well like he’d hoped, he was plagued by the most appalling nightmare ever. In his nightmare, it recurred tonight’s events with him torturing the child. Only, instead of the child . . . he was torturing Sirius.

In his dream, it wasn’t the screams that affected him deeply. Instead, it was the look of betrayal on Sirius’ face that made him feel sick. And all Sirius would say was “Why?” Sirius never once told him to stop like the child had begged. That was all Sirius did.

Shocked and still feeling queasy from everything, Regulus got up before dawn and crept out, leaving a hasty ‘thank you’ message in the dirt. As he snuck into Hogwarts, Regulus hoped that he could just get on with his life, forget about last night’s atrocity, and be proud of his achievement of becoming an official Death Eater.

1978 — The Hog’s Head

“You look like shite, boy,” Aberforth said, plunking down a tumbler of Firewhisky. “Drink up. You already look like shite, so this will only make you shine like one of those Dungbombs you children like to waste money on.”

Regulus grabbed the tumbler and grunted, “Thanks.” Since last year, somehow or another, he’d become “friends” with this old wizard. Regulus had to admit that Aberforth was quite a crabby old coot who liked goats way too much, but despite Aberforth’s royal grumpiness, Regulus had started to respect him — albeit grudgingly.

“Still having that nightmare?”

Regulus nodded and took a sip of the Firewhisky.

“What about that friend of yours? That junior boy? You and he still inseparable?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you so quiet? As you young people say, ‘What’s got your knickers in a twist’?”

” . . . I don’t wear knickers.”

“I would hope not.” Aberforth let out a low chuckle.

Regulus drained the entire tumbler, and his throat protested, and he started to cough, tears filling his eyes.

“You must be a masochist,” Aberforth noted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Tell you what?”

“About Riddle’s true heritage.”

“I gave you a hint last year. It’s not my fault it took you this long to realise it.”

Regulus scowled and looked around the empty place. Last week, Lord Voldemort had requested to borrow Kreacher for a worthy cause. Only thing was, Kreacher had been mistreated badly. With that and with the discovery of Lord Voldemort’s half-blood status, he remembered the incident with Kingsley. Then there was the nightmare-that-refused-to-die, the same nightmare he’d been having every night.

He was nearing the edge of insanity, and he found himself telling Aberforth everything.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I just don’t,” Regulus whispered. “And . . . I wish things were back to way it was with Sirius. I . . . I miss him as a brother.”

Aberforth rubbed the ends of his beard. “Well, if you want change, lad, you have to do it yourself.”

“How?!” Regulus burst out. “I can’t just walk up to Headmaster Dumbledore and ask for his help!”

“Oh, for the love of Billy the Goat! Why ever not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Then ask me.”

“What?” Regulus blinked. “You?”

Aberforth poured some more Firewhisky into Regulus’ tumbler. “I think you’re going to need some more of this because I’m about to tell you something.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows. “What? That you study goat fornication?”

“You have a strange sense of humour, lad. I’m about to tell you my last name. It’s Dumbledore.”

Choosing that moment to take a sip, Regulus spewed it all back out. “What?!”

“I’m offering you a chance to come help the Order. I won’t tell you how to do it. It’s up to you. If you want to help, say it. If not, I will have no choice but to Obliviate you.”

Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “Do you trust me that much to even offer this choice to me? You know I’m a Death Eater. Why would you even bother to help me . . . considering you’re somehow related to the leader of the Order.”

“Because I trust my judgement. And,” Aberforth paused before he gruffly said, “you’re all right, lad. You’re a bit of a fool, but I know you’re all right.” Standing up, he gave Regulus a small smirk. “I’ve got to tend Billy, Willy, and Dilly. Think about it.”

Left alone with his drink, Regulus stared off into space. He knew deep inside that Lord Voldemort was a madman, a hypocritical bastard who only wanted power for himself and who was seeking immortality. But could he really betray Lord Voldemort? Could he really be brave like a Gryffindor and help out the Order somehow? Or should he just be resourceful and continue to support Lord Voldemort through his horrendous agenda? After all, what if Lord Voldemort did win and take over the wizarding world? Or what if his nightmare did come true? Would he really have to torture and kill Sirius? Or could he somehow avoid all that by joining the Order?

There was always that other possibility that the Order would win instead . . .

Regulus sighed and drank some more Firewhisky, and he slowly pondered over the pros and cons of each choice.

By the time Aberforth came back, Regulus had made his decision.

1979 — Horcrux Cave

Lifting his head up, Regulus forced himself to his hands and knees. He couldn’t give up now. He had to finish this. He had to succeed. Had to for the Order’s — no, for Aberforth’s — sake. Had to for Barty. Had to for Kreacher. And most of all, he had to succeed for Sirius. He wanted Sirius’ love back.

His heart beat rapidly now, and it hurt to breathe as he crawled slowly towards the boat.

“Water . . . ” He desperately wanted it. A drop would feel like heaven to him. Surely, one drop from that murky lake wouldn’t hurt?

He edged himself closer to the water, ignoring the nagging in the very back of his head. He knew there was something important about the lake, but he couldn’t remember. His mind felt too sluggish. Shutting his eyes, to keep those unwanted visions away, he reached out with his hand. He felt the cool wetness at his fingertips. Forcing a pained smile, he brought his hand close to his lips.

There were sounds of loud splashes, and the cave reverberated, the vibration hurting him more. Ignoring the sudden screeching that encompassed him, he gripped his wand tightly. In a light voice, he said “I can do this, Sirius. I can. I’ll make you proud.”

Dudley glared at Hestia. “You want me to do what?”

She smirked. “You heard me just fine.”

He groaned loudly. Several months had passed since he and his parents had gone into hiding while those wizards and witches raged war against a psychopath who Dudley hoped he’d never meet. It’d been a long several months of eating nasty food, living in tense conditions, and staying in a flat that was too small compared to his home at Privet Drive.

But Dudley understood all the sacrifices. From what Hestia and Dedalus had told him, he knew Harry was going through much worse. He knew that the real world was a dangerous place compared to the cocoon of his childhood, and he was willing to do anything to protect himself and his parents. As well as Harry. Dudley had no desire to compromise Harry’s safety with any mistake.

After several months of living in this small flat, Hestia and Dedalus had received words that their current location was no longer safe. Luckily, the Order had another safe location ready. The plan was simple. Dedalus would escort his parents to the new location one way, and Hestia would escort him by another route.

However, there was a tiny catch. “I am not wearing those things.”

“You will wear them,” Hestia said pleasantly.

“It’s a bloody dress!” Dudley glared at the paisley-patterned dress. He wasn’t an expert on fashion, but even he could tell that it was the ugliest dress in the world. It was obviously a dress meant for a large woman, as he was anything but petite. He eyed the sleeves, wondering if it would even go over his bulky arms, but he quickly realised that Hestia probably did something magical with the dress to make it fit him.

“I’m well aware it’s a dress.” Her smile turned deadly as her eyes sparked with intensity. “Put. It. On.”

Heaving a sigh, Dudley grabbed the dress, but he still hesitated. “Can’t I just wear something else? Like one of those floppy hats? Or . . . or . . . a beard! That would work!” Dudley nodded eagerly, knowing that beards would fit a bloke better than a dress.

“Oh, for the love of stubborn teenagers! Look, put it on, wear the heels, and don’t forget the wig! And then I’ll do your make-up! It’s either that, or I will do something painful to you.” She paused. “Too bad I’m not allowed to cast magic on you. I would cast a permanent sex change spell on you right now if I could.”

“Hestiaaaaa. Dedalus would never do this to me!” He couldn’t help it. He was whinging, but he didn’t care.

She leaned close to him and smiled. “Although Diggle might seem nicer than me, I’m really far more lenient.”

Dudley blinked. From what he could see, Dedalus was definitely nicer than Hestia. Though Dedalus was a bit over-enthusiastic at times. “Huh?”

“Trust me when I say you do not want to know what his solution would be. Underneath that cheerful exterior lies a very sneaky and sadistic man,” she explained, tossing her black hair over her shoulders. “I know Diggle very well, so stop wasting time! Put the stuff on!”

Under his breath, Dudley muttered, “I know you’re a fucking cow. A fucking bossy cow.”

“What?” Her eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Nothing! I’ll do it!”

“Good.”

The next few minutes didn’t pass quickly enough for him. He somehow got the horrific looking dress, the tight heels that pinched his toes, and the itchy brown, curly wig on. Then Hestia quickly applied some make-up on him, which, he thought, made him look like one of those scary clowns. Like the Joker but ten times worse! When everything was done, Dudley stared into the mirror. “This isn’t going to work!” Dudley muttered to himself.

The world’s ugliest drag queen stared back at him. The dress made him look larger than he usually appeared. He stared at his wide chest; he had no tits, but he didn’t mind. He was not going to wear a bra with stuffings in them. The shoes were already killing him, and he now had a bit more respect for those women who wore heels all the time. The curly wig wasn’t soft at all; in fact, the curls were very hard and spiky. Dudley was afraid that the long fringe would poke his eyes out!

All in all, aside from the pansy-looking dress, the horrible make-up, and the spiky wig, he came to the conclusion he looked like that Trunchbull woman from Matilda.

“There, now we can go. Even though it’s midnight, it doesn’t hurt to take this extra precaution.” Hestia changed her robes into a long Chinese style dress. It was red with golden patterns all over it.

Dudley now looked at both of them in the mirror. The two misfits of the century. “I think we’ll attract attention.”

“How so?”

“I look like I’m going to go to an afternoon tea with the Joker, while you look like you’re going to go to the Chinatown or whatever that place the Americans call!”

“Dudley? Tomorrow’s Halloween. We can say we’re on our way to a costume party.”

“At midnight?”

“Why not?” Hestia grabbed his arm, and he stumbled in his heels. “Now, let’s go.”

As he was dragged along in the dark night, Dudley only hoped that this would work. Last thing he wanted to do was to die wearing all this! And when he reached the safe location, he planned to take everything off and burn them. He didn’t care if he had to shove everything into an oven. He’d do it!

I like her because she smiles at me and means it. — Anonymous

Dudley squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. He suspected the chair had a nasty spell on it. Earlier, when he’d sat down, the chair was nice, plush, and pleasant; now, he swore the damned thing was shrinking around his bottom, had grown bumps on the cushion, and was giving him some serious itching problems. Or maybe he was imagining things? He wasn’t sure, but it really was getting rather tight, bumpy, and itchy, but he didn’t dare complain. Especially when he thought he saw one of those redheaded folks looking at him queerly, and it reminded him of the first magical sweets he had consumed. He would never forget what the sweet had done to him — his tongue had never been quite the same since — and he became rather cautious on what he ate at one of these gatherings.

He looked at the huge, motley group of people around some sort of an open area with these strange looking hoops. They were all cheering and yelling as some of them flew around on their brooms, throwing a red ball and dodging these dangerous and wild black balls. He recalled Harry’s stiff explanation of something called Quid Dish, and the only thing Dudley could remember was something about a golden ball with wings; the rest of the explanation sounded like some complicated algebraic equation.

Again, he shifted in his seat, and he let out a quiet but deep sigh. For the last two years or so, he’d been coming to this Weasley-Potter-and-close-friends gathering. The first time he came, he remembered the hostile aura he felt from everyone there and the masked glares he picked up from some of them. It was enough to make him want to flee, but Dudley Dursley wasn’t a chicken. He was not going to let a bunch of magical folks scare him off. So with his head held high, he attended the gathering and survived it without any major hitch. All the food and drinks he ate didn’t cause him to do anything strange — though he did wonder if they used batwings and other weird ingredients in the food — and nobody turned him into anything non-human. What they ended up doing was ignore him, with the exception of Harry.

Dudley had made the first initiative to get to know his only cousin. With Aunt Marge being childless — unless those ugly things called dogs counted, but he highly doubted that — and his father having no other siblings, Harry was really the only one left of his family since his parents had passed away. His father had died of a heart attack, and his mother, never getting over the guilt she had towards Harry and her sister, died from grief when his father had passed. He lived in his own little world of guilt, and as he grew older, he thought back to his childhood, thought about all those times he had treated Harry like shite, and he grew to regret them. But he hesitated to contact Harry because he’d figured Harry would shun him, and he wouldn’t have blamed Harry for doing that.

In the end, though, it was his dying wife’s — she’d died from AIDS-related pneumonia — last wish that convinced him that life was too short to hold onto grudges. Before she died, she’d wanted to know more about his childhood — she had always complained that he was reticent about it. He eventually caved in and told her about his magical cousin, the one she never had the chance to meet. He could tell she was fascinated by what little he could tell her. She had looked at him sadly when he said he never had contacted Harry since that time he’d shook Harry’s hand.

“Meet him,” she urged. “Before you lose the chance.”

He hadn’t listened to her then. How could he? She was dying. He wasn’t about to leave her side to go on a hunt for his cousin. No, he really couldn’t leave her. And she probably knew how he felt, so she only mentioned it one last time when she was leaving him.

Feeling empty and miserable without his wife, it took a while for Dudley to get over her death. As he wallowed in alcohol, he remembered how she’d hated his drinking, and he remembered how he’d cut down for her sake. He was willing to do anything for her, and if granting her last wish will make her happy in her afterlife, then so be it.

And he did it. He’d somehow managed to get a hold of Harry through Mrs Figg, and they’d been sort of keeping contact, with Harry inviting him to the gathering every year so far. He felt grateful that Harry had invited him, yet he didn’t enjoy going to it. Spending the whole day as an outcast was not fun, and he now knew how Harry had felt all those years before as an outcast with the Dursleys.

Dudley stifled back yet another sigh, and he knocked back what he hoped was water, or at least something that wouldn’t dissolve his teeth like acid would. Thankfully, his teeth stayed intact, and Dudley was just about to get up and go to the loo when a perky voice said, “Hi, Uncle D!”

Blinking, Dudley gaped at the friendly, cheerful, and bright face that came into his view. Lily Luna Potter. Harry’s youngest child, who at the age of eight was quite an interesting child to watch compared to her brothers and the thousands of redheaded spawns littering the whole place. Her long and messy auburn hair cascaded down her back, and she rocked back on her heel as she sucked on a lolly. Popping the lolly out of her mouth, she grinned at him. “Why are you all the way out here, Uncle D?”

“Why are you calling me that? I’m not your uncle.” Dudley winced at the stupidity of his response, but he didn’t know what else to say to her. This was the first time Lily had ever approached him; in fact she was the first person to really acknowledge him other than Harry, and with her bubbly personality, he was reminded of his wife before her condition had worsened.

Lily’s giggly voice prevented him from feeling depressed. “Then what do I call you? Daddy says you’re my first cousin once removed. That’s too long! Or should I call you ‘F-CORD’?”

“A what?”

“That’s ‘First Cousin Once Removed D’ in . . . what do you call it? That A word? Ahhh . . . acrobat?”

Dudley frowned, trying to understand this bizarre conversation, and he guessed, “Acronym?”

“Yeah! That! I made up an acronym.” She gave him a beaming smile. “Which one do you want to be called?”

It didn’t take Dudley long to come to a decision. He immediately answered, “Just call me ‘Uncle D’.”

“Okay.” She jumped into a chair next to Dudley. She pulled her legs up to her chest, and she looked at the Dish game or whatever it was called. “You like Quidditch?”

“It . . . seems . . . ” Dudley gave the game a good look. “Fun. It looks quite fun, but I don’t think I’ll like it.” Fun was not a word he’d describe it, but he wasn’t about to admit to a little girl that it looked downright scary.

Lily must have agreed with him because she wrinkled her nose and said, “I’m afraid of those Bludgers.” She clarified with Dudley’s confused look. “The black balls. I heard Daddy telling Teddy to be careful of them because Daddy remembers when it broke his arm. I don’t ever want that to break my arm!”

“Yeah,” Dudley drawled out. “I wouldn’t want to get hit by it, either.” There was a pause as Lily continued to watch the game, and Dudley took this chance to readjust his position in the blasted chair. He bit his tongue from swearing in front of her. His movement caused him to lean over to the side, and he saw his bag there. That reminded him of some Willy Wonka chocolates he kept in there, and he took one out and handed it towards Lily. “Want one?”

“What?” Lily’s eyes opened wide. “Muggle chocolate! I love those!” By then her lolly was gone, so she eagerly grabbed the bar. “Thank you, Uncle D!” She opened it up and broke off a generous piece and gave it to Dudley.

Surprised by her action, he grabbed the piece and the two of them ate the bar in companionable silence. From a distance, Dudley saw the other members of the gathering give them strange looks, some of them hostile, so he made up his mind to send her away from him. He didn’t want Lily to get teased or lectured for being around him.

But Lily surprised him. “I don’t understand why some of my family don’t like you. Why is that?” She turned her questioning brown eyes to him.

Dudley wanted to tell her to piss off. He wanted to tell her to mind her own business. But he didn’t. He was tired of the intimidating attitude, tired of being alone, and if Lily Potter, who ironically was named after the aunt he’d never met, was going to show him some compassion, then he’d accept it. “I . . . I didn’t treat your daddy very well when he used to live with me.”

“I know. I heard Mummy and Nana talk about it.”

“You sure eavesdrop a lot,” Dudley chuckled.

“Well, I am small, and I like to play behind our sofas. Not my fault they choose to sit there and talk for hours!” Giving him an impish smile, she turned solemn once more. “But you don’t treat him bad no more, right?”

“Right.”

“Then the others shouldn’t treat you bad, too!” Her eyes flashed, and Dudley found himself wondering if Lily was always this vivacious and spontaneous with her feelings.

“It’s all right, Lily. Sometimes we grown-ups are . . . stubborn, and we let things go on too long.” His explanation sounded unconvincing, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say without insulting Lily’s huge family.

“Stubborn? Yeah, you’re right. Grown-ups can be stubborn.” Her playful smile came back when she continued, “And silly!”

Dudley pretended to glare at her, and that only caused her to laugh. “Oh, fine. You spoke the truth.” He shook his head and started to laugh, not caring whether the others looked at them strangely.

“Of course. James calls me an ‘instuffable know-it-all’, and I know something else, too.”

“What?” Dudley asked, humouring her.

“You’re not bad. I like you, Uncle D. Daddy said you invest in at Mr Wonka’s chocolate factory. But he said someone named Charlie Bucket’s the owner or something? Can you take me to ‘Mr Bonka’s’ — or should that be ‘Mr Wucket’s’? — factory one day? I’m going to beg and beg and beg Mummy and Daddy to let me go there with you! I want to see the Loompa thingie and compare them to house elves!”

Once Dudley figured out what she was saying, he said, “All right. I’ll take you there, if your parents allow it.”

Just then, the game finally ended, and all the players flew back down to the ground, and the noise level around them grew. Lily scrambled out of her chair, and her tiny, pale hand reached out to grab Dudley’s larger and darker one. “Let’s go ask them now! Come on, Uncle D.”

As he allowed Lily to drag him away from that awful bunk of a chair, Lily’s enthusiasm made him feel happier than he had for a long time. Someone in this gigantic family liked him. There wasn’t rhyme or reason in Lily’s thinking, but she genuinely liked him, and this cheered Dudley up. He could sense a new change within him. He could see this as a new opportunity to get to know his cousin’s family, and he’d do it right. His hand slipped inside of his pocket, and he touched his mobile. Soon as Lily cajoled her parents into saying yes, he’d be calling a certain Mr Bonka or Wucket — he had to give Lily points for humour and creativity — and he’d tell the owner to arrange a very special tour for her.

And maybe even a larger tour in the future if the rest of the Potters and all those redheaded devils decided to visit the chocolate factory.

Whatever happened, Dudley would be ready for it, and he privately thanked his wife for everything.