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I've been meaning to go back to Laocoon's Children for a long time. I've talked about my hesitation and the reasons for it here, and I decided finally, in the end, it's too much. There's too much to write, and I want to focus on other things now. But I've felt guilty leaving it unfinished, so I wanted to post my notes.

Turns out I had a lot more notes than I expected. I even had scenes to share.

This is a summary of what I had been planning to write, to finish this project. Some of it is a bit vague, and some of it has been adjusted to take in the last two books, which were published after this plotting was finished. I hope you enjoy it; I present it both with pride for what it is, and with my apologies that it isn't all it could be.

THE RIVER HOUSE:

A couple of the River House stories went unfinished, so I thought I'd toss those in first.

TYRANNOSAURUS WAS A BEAST:

Harry's tenth birthday yields a particular surprise; a rare trip outside of Llangynog district, to the Natural History Museum in London. There is, of course, a secret door that leads to the Wizarding wing, which has MOVING dinosaur skeletons and lots of snakes for Harry. The gist of this story was that Remus had invited Snape to come see Harry, so Snape slunk around the exhibits watching Harry have a good time, and was satisfied that the boy was being properly raised.

THE LOST OWL:

Lucius Malfoy beat Sirius to finding Peter after the deaths of the Potters because Remus, who was meant to leave for Rome the previous day, sent Sirius on a wrong turning. Remus didn't leave because his ticket-money was late; his ticket-money was late because the post owl went astray; and the post owl went astray because it was knocked off course by a mysterious broomstick-riding figure. That's really all there is to this one -- it's just a vivid description of the reason that the two stories, canon and Laocoon's Children, branched. I'll come back to this one in the summary of book seven.

BOOK THREE: The Rest Of The Story.

I do have the opening of the next chapter, quite a bit of it actually.

***

With no plans to retaliate against the Twins for their prank during the Qudditch game, May stretched out before Harry as an unending month of study and work, swotting for exams in June and practicing Quidditch for the Cup against Gryffindor. Padma was too busy studying to help them plot pranks of any kind, and Neville swung wildly between studying madly and worrying incessantly. Harry dreaded to think what a wreck Neville might become when they had OWLs and not just regular Hogwarts exams.

He spent a lot of time with Draco, out on the Quidditch pitch, generally when neither of their captains could catch them though Madam Hooch insisted on being present when any student was practicing. The Dementors liked to drift over and skulk in corners, though they didn't like her whistle and would generally disperse if she blew it.

Draco needed help learning to react to the precision flight of the Firebolt, and Harry just plain loved to fly on it. Draco had already said he could borrow it for the Cup, so it was just as well he was learning too -- the Firebolt was meant for adults in professional play, and could be tricky about braking and sudden turns.

"Well, that bollockses the rest of the afternoon," Draco said, leaning on Harry's Nimbus and staring up at the clouds beginning to gather over Hogwarts. Harry, dismounting the Firebolt carefully, followed his gaze. "It's going to rain soon."

"We can practice in the rain, it'll be good," Harry said. "The Cup's two days away, what if it rains during the game?"

"Sod that, I'm not getting rained on for the sake of you winning the Cup," Draco answered with a grin. "Come on, Harry, let's go inside and get something to eat."

"Time to go in, boys," Madam Hooch called, forestalling any argument Harry could have made. She brought her broomstick down next to them and dismounted. "You've done good work, Potter, but Professor McGonagall thinks you're neglecting your studies. Mustn't ignore lessons for Quidditch; you might play for England in a few years' time but you'd better have an education when you get out of it."

"I study!" Harry protested.

"Good; now study more. Think how ashamed Professor Lupin will be if you don't pass your Defence exam," she said, giving them a gentle shove. Harry sulked a little as they hung up their broomsticks, until a thought crossed his mind.

"Do you suppose Madam Hooch knows about Remus and Sirius?" he asked Draco, stepping back outside. The promised rain had begun, just a drizzle for now but intensifying every minute.

"Maybe," Draco said. "Doubt it, though. Why would she know?"

"She's friends with McGonagall. McGonagall definitely knows. I don't think it's as big a secret as they think it is," Harry added. "I mean, people must be able to put two and two together."

"Why should they? That kind of thing doesn't happen a lot in the Wizarding World."

"Says who?" Harry demanded. "It's just not talked about, but I bet there's loads of men like my parents."

"Well, don't snarl at me about it, I couldn't care less. If people don't talk about it then they probably don't even know much about it, so they don't think about it. Anyway, the people who do add it up probably keep shut about it because they'd be accused of thinking about it too much."

"Now I'm thinking about it too much. You don't reckon the kitchen has cold butterbeer, do you? This rain's awfully humid," Harry complained.

"Bet the elves would go down to Hogsmeade and get us some," Draco said. "In fact...Dobby! Dobby, are you around?"

There was a soft pop, and Dobby appeared in front of them so suddenly that they had to stop walking. He was holding a dish in one hand and a towel in the other, obviously in the middle of doing the washing-up.

"Master Draco summons Dobby?" he squeaked excitedly.

"Well, not if you're busy," Draco said, eyeing the plate.

"Dobby is just doing the washing, but Master Sirius Black is not at home, and Dobby can wash it later," Dobby said. "What is Master Draco requiring?"

"We're going up to the library," Draco said. Harry glanced at him, frowning. They weren't supposed to have food in the library. "I need you to bring us something."

Dobby bowed, nearly dropping the plate.

"Please go down to Hogsmeade...here," Draco dug a Galleon out of his pocket. "And get us some butterbeer? And then very, very quietly bring it to me in the library? But put the plate back first."

"Butterbeer, quiet in the library," Dobby said determinedly. "And put the plate back first. Dobby will be doing it, Master Draco!"

"Thank you," Draco said, and Dobby disappeared again. The rain began to fall harder, and Draco pulled the back of his jumper over his head, protecting his face. "Come on Harry, we'd better run for it."

Behind them, the grass began to bend and ripple as the rain fell in earnest.

***

The day of the Cup match dawned clear, despite the heavy rain that had begun on Friday and poured throughout Saturday. Rosmerta took it as a good sign; lots of people would be in town for the match, and if it was clear but muddy they would want to stay in one place to drink. She put mud-brushes at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, scrubbed the place until it shone, and listened on short-wave Floo broadcast as the game got underway. Rosmerta was not an enormous follower of the game, but its outcome generally affected her income, so she made a point to have the matches on when she was likely to get a crowd. People began to arrive during the game too, of course, but on a day like this most would either be at the match or (wisely) at home and under good cover.

"Reckon that Flint fellow be recruited?" one of her regulars asked, sipping his drink at the bar. On the floo broadcast, the game entered its second, determined, and score-tied hour.

"I don't see why," she replied. "From all I've heard, he's not terribly good, is he?"

"Nah," the man answered. "Made a good go of the team, though. Slytherin been well-night unbeatable this year, eh?"

Rosmerta shrugged just as Lee Jordan's voice, coming over the Wizarding Wireless, picked up in tempo and pitch. Both of them listened intently as the noise began to grow to include the shouts of the crowd in the stands. When the shouting deafened Jordan entirely, Rosmerta switched it off and smiled.

"Stick around," she said. "Sirius Black will be here soon, and you don't want to miss it."

People did begin to arrive a short time later, trickling in at first as the early-leavers arrived and then pouring in as the honoured guests, parents, and professors who had remained behind to congratulate their students realised that what they really wanted was a hot drink to stave off the damp and somewhere loud to re-live the game. A couple of seventh-year students crept in as well, having snuck off from school, and Rosmerta kindly ignored them as a graduation gift.

HOGWARTS HOGWARTS HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS
SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE

The door burst open and a crowd of people pushed their way inside, shaking rain from their heads and stuffing umbrellas into the Quick-Dry Charmed Umbrella Stand near the entryway. Sirius Black was in the middle of the group, conducting a pair of seventh-years in a version of the school song that Rosmerta heard far more often than the hallowed halls of Hogwarts every would. Professor Lupin leaned on his shoulder, looking a little less exuberant than the rest, hand clenching Sirius' cloak tightly.

WE'VE BEEN HERE FOR SEVEN YEARS
IT'S TIME WE BUSTED FREE!
OUR HEADS HAVE HAD THEIR FILLING
WE'RE BORED OUT OF OUR SOCKS
AND NOW WE'D LIKE TO FILL OUR THROATS
WITH FIREWHISKEY SHOTS!

She began lining up glasses on the counter as they crowded around the bar, hooting and grinning. A few grim-looking Gryffindor parents in the back seemed as though they were trying to be good sports.

WE'D LIKE TO FIND SOME WOMEN
AND SHOW THEM WHAT WE KNOW
WE HAVE THE FINEST WANDS AROUND
AND THEY KNOW HOW TO -- OH!
HOGWARTS HOGWARTS HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS
SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE!

The rest of the bar burst into applause. Sirius bowed deeply; Rosmerta saw Remus Lupin stagger as Sirius' arm suddenly threw him off balance.

"Drinking already, Professor?" she asked, over the noise.

"Bad example! Never. I've been ill," he replied. He certainly looked it; his cheeks were flushed with excitement but his skin was pale and his bright eyes were slightly sunken, as if he hadn't been sleeping quite right.

"That's right," Sirius said, turning back to the bar. "Rosmerta. Beautiful corrupter of my youth. Something hot and bracing for Lupin, and a round of firewhisky shots for any who want them. My Harry's won the Cup!"

"I heard," Rosmerta grinned. "I thought you might be by. I never thought I'd see the day you celebrated a Slytherin victory, Sirius Black."

"Tease me now, while I'm in a good mood," he said cheerfully. "And toast, will you?"

"I most certainly will," she said, pouring a small glass of firewhisky for herself and holding it up. Lupin picked up the hot toddy she'd made him and touched rims; Sirius tipped his shot glass against hers.

"To Harry Potter," he said. "The fastest, smartest, keenest boy to ever ride a broomstick!"

"Harry Potter," Rosmerta agreed, taking barely time for the shot before someone tried to get her attention at the other end of the bar.

Slytherin green was everywhere and the parents of Slytherins tended to be wealthy people who wanted interesting drinks; if Gryffindor had won she could have poured beer until dawn and everyone would have been happy, but by the time she'd set up the charms to mix drinks and colour the vodka green and distribute the rum only to those who could really and truly handle rum, Lupin's glass was dry.

"Another hot toddy for you, luv?" she asked.

"Easy on the firewhiskey," he said, nodding. "And nothing stronger than butterbeer for Sirius."

"Oi! We've won the Cup. It's practically traditional to get roaring drunk and mortify myself in public," Sirius replied.

"When you're seventeen, perhaps. Can we settle for only a little drunk and skip the public mortification?" Lupin asked. He coughed, and Sirius looked guilty, though Rosmerta couldn't see why Sirius Black should feel guilty that Professor Lupin was ill.

"Well, I suppose the rest of 'em can do the drinking for me. Sure you're all right, mate?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Lupin said, as Rosmerta pretended to busy herself with the hot water for the toddy. His voice dropped lower and she could only make out a few words; see the Cup from Lupin, and something about two days before from Black. Still, Lupin did seem to perk up a little as he sipped his drink, and Black took advantage of the packed pub to lead another scurrilous anthem.

Oh, there was a maid who loved young Will,
A farmer in Hogsmeade town,
But she was a student on the hill,
And ne'er was allowed to go down, go down,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!

So she took the kit of a local boy,
And a fair young lad made she,
But her hair she could not hide away,
For a hat she was in need, in need,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!

"I'm quite fond of this one," Lupin said to Rosmerta, as Sirius bellowed the nonsense words. "It's not very clever or original, but it's one of the few where nobody dies of love or gets stabbed in a duel."

Rosmerta, who had been noticing that Sirius Black's hand was in the small of his best friend's back and creeping downward, glanced up at him.

"What do you suppose whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay means?" she asked.

"Couldn't tell you. Probably they meant to go back in and put in real words later."

She took up a hat laying on a shelf,
And placed it upon her head,
Did she know not it was a Sorting Hat,
She did not know, she did, she did,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!

And her young Will saw her on the road,
A fair boy he thought was she,
So out he called, will ye rest, young boy,
Under the tall oak tree, with me,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!

Young Will took hold of the fair boy's sleeve,
And kissed him on the cheek,
And the Sorting Hat cried IT'S YOUR TRUE LOVE!
And Will shouted, OH BUGGER ME! BUGGER ME!
SING WHACK-FOL-A-RIDDLE-ALLA-TAY!

Rosmerta saw Lupin laugh and toast to the singers with the last of his toddy, but it looked suspiciously as though Sirius Black was the only person in the entire room that he personally gave tuppence about. Before she could ruminate on what precisely this might mean, a flashbulb popped and Sirius turned suddenly.

"You!" he said, pointing with an empty shot glass at the photographer in the doorway. A woman was standing just behind him, quill and parchment in her hand. "Sod on off out of here before I break that!"

"Ah, you can't keep the press out," the woman behind the photographer called.

"Watch me!" Sirius retorted, and with a flick of his wand the door closed on the camera and, once the horrified photographer had pulled it out of the repeatedly-slamming door, latched itself. The rest of the room broke into applause.

"One more round on me," Sirius said, even as he took his cloak off the hook by the door.

"Leaving already?" someone called.

"I'll let you lot carry on till dawn," Sirius said with a laugh. "Come on, Lupin, let's get you home, and then I'm off to see if the Cannons have recruited Harry yet. Besides, that Skeeter's bound to skullk round the back. Tell her for me," he said, and the room fell silent, "Tell her for me that if she can write one coherent word about Quidditch on her own, I'll pay her thirty Galleons."

Rosmerta smiled fondly on the pair of friends as they left. She had watched many students grow up and go off into the world and come back to celebrate their childrens' triumphs in her pub, but it had to be said that there was nobody quite like Sirius Black.

***

"How're you feeling?" Sirius asked, as he and Remus walked slowly down the rutted road towards the house overlooking Creadonagh Valley.

"A bit tired, but not too bad," Remus replied. "I'm grateful I shan't have to teach on Monday. Ollivander's coming up on Sunday to get my notes, by the by. I've told him I'll meet him at Hogwarts."

"You couldn't have him come down to the house?"

"I think we've been indiscreet enough lately, don't you?" Remus asked gently. "We'll have all of Saturday together, and I won't be gone long on Sunday. And you can look after me and stuff me with food all day on Monday." He shivered a little as the wind blew against them, and Sirius threw his arm around his shoulder.

"Did you see Harry looking for us after he won?" Sirius asked, trying to keep Remus' spirits high. "Did you see him wave the cup at you?"

"I'm fairly sure he was waving it at you," Remus replied.

"Us, then."

"Us," Remus agreed, stopping at the crest of the gentle slope that led down to the house. He shaded his eyes against the orange glow which was all that remained of the sunset. Sirius ran his fingers up the back of his neck, threading them through his hair. Remus closed his eyes and smiled.

"Reckon we'll have to begin closing it up soon," Sirius said. Remus opened his eyes, glancing at him. "Bound for Betwys Beddau in a few weeks. Strange life, eh?"

"Wouldn't trade it," Remus said, thinking of the dreams he'd had, dreams in which he was always cold, and Sirius was never there. He leaned forward impulsively and kissed Sirius -- a kiss that drew on until Sirius gently stepped back, stroking his cheek.

"Me either. Come on, I'll -- did you see that?" Sirius asked suddenly. Remus glanced at him.

"See what?"

"I thought I saw something in the hedge..." Sirius released him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder before crossing the road to investigate, wand at the ready.

"Probably just a bird or something," Remus called. "Leave it alone, scavenger."

"I'm sure it was bigger than that," Sirius replied.

"Well, then a deer, maybe. Sirius, come away from the undergrowth," Remus said, unsteadily joining him and tugging one shoulder. Sirius, peering into the blackness, shook his head.

"Lucius Malfoy's still out there," he said reproachfully.

"Yes, and if you go hurtling through the darkened forest after him you're liable to get yourself killed. Then I'd have to fill out all this paperwork, and pick you out a burial plot, all of which is an enormous waste of my very valuable time," Remus said, as Sirius reluctantly moved away and began walking down the road once more.

"Don't bury me somewhere," Sirius said. Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"That wasn't the conversation I wanted to have."

"I mean it, though. Don't Muggles donate their bodies to Science? I want to do that. I'll donate my body to Magic," Sirius said. "Besides, it'll be one up the nose of my family."

"Your family -- Sirius, your family is me and Harry and the Tonkses."

"Well, you know what I mean." Sirius kicked a rock, which thumped down the road and collided with their front door. "All the Blacks are buried in a giant crypt. Dad used to take us there sometimes."

"I remember you saying something about that at school. Isn't your mum there?" Remus asked. He did not have pleasant memories of Mrs. Black.

"Last one ever, far as I'm concerned. When I die, call up St. Mungo's and ask them if they have any use for a handsome daredevil animagus."

"You're so sure I'll outlive you?" Remus asked, unlocking the door.

"All right, what do you want done with your carcass when you die?"

"I don't want to think about it, thanks."

"You won't have to! You'll be all lazy and quiet in your casket and I'm going to have to think about it," Sirius replied, slipping out of his shoes and helping Remus out of his heavy cloak.

"Let's talk about something else," Remus said. "Weren't we discussing Betwys Beddau?"

"Yes, and I've had an idea," Sirius said, flopping down onto the sofa in the living room. "I'll make you a deal."

"Nothing good ever starts with the phrase I'll make you a deal."

"Hear me out! I'll buy a shop in Hogsmeade next year and open it up, but in return, you have to be a gentleman of leisure all summer long. No bookstore clerking, no tea-pouring, no gainful employment."

Remus sat in the large soft chair by the window, relaxing joint by joint, eyes closed. "I like to work. What would I do with all the spare time?"

"I can think of one or two things," Sirius answered, flopping down on the floor next to his legs. Remus' hand strayed down to stroke his hair. "Maybe more than two."

Remus could feel himself dozing off, slipping away from the house and Sirius into blissful darkness. His muscles wouldn't hurt when he was asleep; if he could, he'd sleep until the full moon was over and school was finished, and they were on the train to Betwys Beddau.

***

He woke in the dark, uncertain where he was at first, conscious that he'd dozed off in the chair -- or had he been in the Forest already when it happened? He was in the forest now...

He pushed himself up off the leafmould that carpeted the Forest floor, the sharp damp bark cutting into his palms, dirt clinging to the skin of his chest and hips. He drew his legs up under him, finding himself naked, vulnerable...weak. Subject to the cold, his body already shaking with fatigue, the sun in entirely the wrong place. Only a minute ago it had been going down over Creadonagh Valley...

And now it was rising in the east, cutting through the trees.

No, he hadn't fallen asleep in the chair, he had been...standing for the Change, and Harry had been there, and so had Sirius.

He moaned and pressed his hands to his face, rocking back and forth. It was one of those dreams, the dreams where he touched a man across some invisible divide, where he looked in on a cold and dark world where he was always scrabbling and struggling and starving. He wished desperately to wake up; he had no desire to share in the other man's misery. He wished he would go away, or die, or something. He wished he could die now.

No, the other him wished he could die...he had betrayed Sirius and Harry, and he had ruined everything. They'd had Peter right where they wanted him and Sirius was going to go free and he'd be allowed to take Harry away from the horrible people who were raising him, and then he, stupid, stupid Remus Lupin, had forgotten the potion and ruined it all.

He felt his body bend back to the earth, pressing his face against his arm, and hot tears poured down over his skin, helpless tears of wrath and frustration.

"Moony?"

He looked up, but it wasn't Sirius standing there; strangest of all strange things, it was Albus Dumbledore. And he was speaking in Sirius' voice.

"Moony," Albus Dumbledore said, in Sirius Black's voice. "You're a disaster, mate."

He opened his eyes, again, and...

***

...looked up at Sirius, clean shaven, the hollows in his cheeks filled out, eyes bright, silky curly hair falling in his face. His Sirius.

"You've been napping. Come on, up to bed with you," Sirius said, and Remus banished the other poor bastard from his mind, allowing Sirius not only to support him up the stairs but to gropingly feel his bum on the way.

***

The Cup match had been played and it was difficult for the teams especially to remember that there was nearly another month of school still to go; Harry found himself restless, and knew that his teammates were as well. Even the normally quiet Draco strained at the restrictive leash a little, and the professors in general had trouble keeping control over their classes.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, was the most well-behaved class in the history of Hogwarts. The Monday after the full moon saw Ollivander substitute teaching -- the Ollivander, who not only already knew the names of everyone in the school but what wands they used and what the core was. He was strange and eerie and the children, even the big seventh-years, stood in complete awe of him. He taught faithfully from Professor Lupin's notes, drilling the students for their exams, but at the end of each class there would be fifteen or twenty minutes to spare, and he would lean back against the desk and give short, oddly mystical lectures about the properties of wands and their relationship to their makers and users.

"Many of you have heard me say," he said, while Harry passed a note to Neville about pick-up Quidditch that afternoon, "that the owner does not choose the wand, but the wand its owner. This is one of many things in your life for which no proof will be provided, and must be accepted on faith."

***

And that's where I stopped writing. I don't remember where I was going with Ollivander's lesson but I am sure it would have been awesome. This chapter was going to cover final exams, as well, and end with Draco being kidnapped by Lucius (in the same way Ron was kidnapped by Sirius at the end of the real book).

Harry and company were going to follow Lucius' trail back to the Shrieking Shack. In the Shrieking Shack I'd planned for a quite terrifying visual of Lucius stroking Draco's head, being very paternal towards him, creepily paternal, as he waits for Harry to arrive. He wanted Draco back, of course, but Harry is his real target because Harry can be used to find the Dark Lord. Lucius explains also that he's an animagus, a white snake -- Peter, who is in-fucking-sane, came to him as a rat in Azkaban and taught him animagery, and that's how he escaped.

There's a fight, in which Draco is more or less useless because he's scared out of his mind, but Padma and Harry manage to escape when Padma grabs Harry and gives the time-turning a quick flick.

Having jumped back in time, Padma and Harry face down the dementors on their way from the Shrieking Shack to Hogwarts, in an attempt to get help. They manage to make it only as far as Remus and Sirius's house. Remus and Sirus, of course, go charging into the fray and get their asses kicked, because Peter is incredibly strong. The problem is that Peter wants to slaughter Remus, Sirius, and the children, including Draco, because he only needs Harry. Peter and Lucius begin to infight, and the adults manage to get free and stage a second attack. Peter, reluctantly, flees; Lucius manages to escape as a snake, leaving Draco behind. It's also admitted at some point during this that Lucius is the one who gave Draco the Firebolt.

This is a scene from when they give chase, after Sirius has been wounded. They're in the forest and encounter some centaurs...

***

Remus stood slowly, holding up his hands. Several of the centaurs notched their arrows.

"We don't mean to trespass," he said slowly.

"You," the dark-haired one said. "You are on Centaur grounds."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Look," Remus held out his wrists. "You know the scent. We've been here before. You know we don't interfere with the Centaurs."

Harry held his breath. Remus swallowed and continued.

"We were chasing a trespasser," he said. "Peter Pettigrew."

Silence. In the quiet of the forest, Harry could hear the bowstrings tightening.

"The man who destroyed the Mirror of Ynitsed," he blurted, clutching Sirius' shirt tightly. A low murmur rippled through the herd.

"That's right," Remus agreed. "We were hunting him. If you find him he's yours, but there are children -- look," he said, gesturing at Harry. "My -- my foal. And three others. And my mate -- "

"Your mate?" the dark-haired one scoffed.

"Yes. He's hurt. Please. Do what you like with me, but give them safe passage. The children and my mate. Please," Remus said. Harry had never heard Remus beg before. "Please -- "

There was the twang of an arrow being loosed, but at the same time the thud of hooves, and Harry heard a sickening thud as the arrow found flesh. He waited for Remus' scream of pain, but it didn't come; instead, when he looked up, a pale white body stood between Remus and the herd.

"Get out of the way, Firenze," the dark-haired centaur snarled. A palomino centaur, his hair white-blond and tied back with a leather strap, stood shuddering in front of Remus. As Harry watched, he reached backwards and pulled the arrow out of his flank.

"We do not shoot colts," he said, snapping the arrow in half. Harry saw blood dripping down one leg.

"That -- half-breed is not a colt!"

"He is protecting his get, the same as we would," Firenze answered defiantly. "He did not come here to defy us. If you kill the man and his get, you will have to step over my body to do so."

Several of the bows lowered. Firenze turned his head.

"Is it true you came hunting the man who destroyed the mirror?" he asked.

"I swear to you," Remus said. Harry felt Sirius' heart speed up, and knew that he was waking. He pressed one hand over his mouth in warning.

"And the children?"

"Victims of the man. Take me as a hostage if you don't believe me, just let Harry go."

"There will be no hostages, werewolf," Firenze said. "I remember your scent. Twenty years ago I remember a hunt with your pack. You were a cub then."

Sirius moved his arms. Harry leaned close to his ear.

"Don't move," he whispered. Sirius nodded and fell still.

"Any Centaur who harms a child in this forest will answer to me," Firenze said loudly. His voice echoed back eerily. "The colt will go now."

Harry felt Remus pull him away, and he struggled.

"Go, Harry," Remus whispered. "Run. Run fast and don't look back. We'll come for you. You promised you'd do as I told you. Run!"

He shoved Harry and the momentum put his feet on the path; once moving he could no more have stayed and fought than he could have sprouted wings. He heard crunching behind him, hooves on dead leaves, but he didn't dare turn around.

***

The time travel in this version is purely to free Buckbeak, and sort of a side-plot; Padma also gives up the time-turner like Hermione did, though I think I possibly planned to have it confiscated from her for misuse, I can't quite recall.

At the end of the third book, Remus and Sirius get outed. Skeeter had snapped a photo of them kissing -- you saw that in the earlier scene -- and intends to blackmail Sirius with it, but her plan backfires. This I have written as a scene, starting from the moment Sirius loses his patience for blackmail.

***

"Hell with this," Sirius said, and crossed the space between himself and Skeeter with startling speed. He plucked her up by her robes as if she weighed nothing at all, and her feet dangled a few inches off the ground.

"You listen to me and you put this in that bloody gossip rag of yours, or so help me I'll squash you like the insignificant insect you are," he said, while she struggled in his grip. "I am Sirius Black, paterfamilias of the House of Black, godfather of the Boy Who Lived. I am in love with -- there -- that man, Remus Lupin, and if anyone comes near him or my son or me I will kill them to protect my family. If my son suffers, I will kill them, if my lover suffers, I will kill them, and if anyone so much as dares to say a word against me the wrath of the house of Black will descend on them and everyone they love."

Behind her, Rita's quill was moving madly. She opened her mouth and he dropped her, covering her lips with one hand and still holding onto her robes with the other.

"You tell the world who I love," he said. "You tell the world that man is not a valet or a tutor, he is the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. And then you make bloody godsdamn sure they know what I'll do for the people I love. And if you don't tell the world that I love my family and I don't care who knows it, I will kill you. I will kill you. This is not an idle threat."

He released her and she staggered backwards, wiping her mouth.

"The scoop of the century," she said, catching her breath.

"You want a scoop?" Sirius roared. "YOU WANT A SCOOP? You bleeding sore, you fester on the populace? You think I'm the only homosexual in Wizarding Britain? There are thousands of men who would kill to be in my bed. There are women by the score who are going to read what you say on the front page of that cheap bumwipe you work for and turn to their wives and kiss them over breakfast. There are men who will come up to me on the street and kiss me on the mouth. There are boys fifteen years old who will read your words and go up to the boy of their dreams and ask them to the dance because Sirius Black likes men too. You want a scoop, you neutered kneazle? You'll have a bloody sexual revolution! And I say bring it on! So you had better say it, or I will buy the Prophet and burn it to the ground and bury you in the ashes. I will end you."

He snatched the quill and parchment out of the air and thrust it at her. When she hesitated, he drew close again.

"Take it, or I'll choke you with it."

She snatched the parchment out of his hands and bolted.

"READ THAT AND REMEMBER!" he shouted after her, as she ran.

With the roar of his pulse dying in his ears, Sirius caught his breath and became aware of a deep, impenetrable silence. He looked behind him; Remus was standing a few paces away, Harry in front of him. His arms were wrapped protectively around Harry's shoulders, and both of them were staring at him in jaw-dropped amazement.

"I swear to god if you don't kiss me -- " Sirius began, but Remus had already come forward and cut him off in mid-breath with a kiss.

"I love you," Remus said.

"Yeah, well, read the Prophet tomorrow and you'll know what I think about you," Sirius replied, and Remus smiled. "Harry, c'mere."

Harry came forward, smiling uncertainly. Sirius pulled him into the embrace, stroking his hair. They stood there until Remus began to laugh.

"This is not how I expected to come out," he said, around his laughter. "Front page of the Prophet!"

"Well, it was that or take out an advert, and adverts are expensive," Sirius replied, breaking down and laughing as well.

"Ex -- ex -- " Remus tried to get the word out and couldn't. "The front page," he gasped. "Bring on the sexual rev -- revolution..."

"The only homosexual in Wizarding Britain!" Harry hooted. "Men are going to kiss you on the mouth!"

"They'd better not," Remus added, and rested his forehead against Sirius'. "I'LL END THEM!" he added, and burst into laughter again. "Did you call her a neutered kneazle?"

"And a fester on the populace," Harry said.

"Good use of the word populace. Full marks for vocabulary," Remus said, wiping his eyes. "Oh, Sirius. You are trouble wrapped up in skin. Tomorrow's going to be a nightmare."

"I don't care."

"Well, then I don't either." Remus took his hand and kissed his cheek. "Take me out to dinner."

"With pleasure."

"I just have one question..." Remus said, as they began to walk.

"Only one?"

"Did you seriously use the word lover?"

***

The next morning, Sirius was woken with a tremendous hangover by Andromeda banging on his bedroom door.

"SIRIUS AEDELBERT BLACK!" she shouted. "REMUS JOHN LUPIN! YOU COME OUT HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"

"Oh god," Remus moaned. "Make it go away."

"I can't," Sirius replied.

"I think I'm still drunk."

"I'm not. Stay here."

Sirius threw a dressing-gown around his shoulders and pulled some trousers on, opening the door. Andromeda thrust a fistful of Howlers under his nose.

"They're going to explode soon and I won't be responsible," she said. Sirius took them and flung them out the window.

"Let 'em," he grumbled. "Where's tea?"

She held it out to him with her other hand, and he kissed her cheek. She leaned around his shoulder.

"Remus, get up."

"Can't," Remus groaned, burying himself in the blankets.

"Remus, you want to see this."

Sirius heard bedsprings creak, and then the rustle of clothing. He gently shoved Andromeda out into the hall and felt Remus touch his shoulder, following blearily.

They emerged into a living room full of owls. They were perched on couches and chairs, on the light fixtures, on the mantelpiece. Somewhere in all the piles of owl were Harry and Dora, Anne, Julian, Ted, and the rest of the werewolves.

When the owls saw him, as one they dropped the letters they were holding and flew out through every available window. Feathers drifted down in the silence that followed.

"They were waiting for you," Andromeda said. "Though a bunch already left."

"What time is it?" Remus said.

"Noon or so."

"Jesus Christ!"

"You're such a Muggle," Sirius said, leaning back to kiss him. Harry, sitting in the middle of a pile of opened envelopes, snorted.

"I like this one," Anne said to Harry, passing it across.

"Dear Mr. Black," Harry started.

"Oh no..." Sirius said.

"This morning I read the newspaper," Harry continued, "And then I kissed my wife. Best wishes for the wedding. Love, Andrea."

"Wedding?" Remus asked in alarm.

"I think it was figurative," Sirius said. "Do you want to get married?"

"No, and even if it were legal, werewolves need special pass. Do you?"

"No."

"Fine then. Living in sin forever," Remus said, flopping onto one of the recently owl-infested couches.

"Dear Mr. Black, this morning I read the newspaper and then I kissed my wife. Just because. Yours sincerely, Eric Jackson," Dora said. "Well, that's nice of him."

Julian held up another. "Dear Harry Potter, Will you go to the dance with me. That's a bit sick, he's only thirteen," he said. "Still, well-intentioned I'm sure. Oh, the kid's only fourteen himself. That's all right."

"Dear Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, I think you are -- well, not all of them are kind," Ted added hastily. He picked up another and opened it. "Here we go. Mr. Lupin, I knew you weren't a valet and we all had bets on when everyone would find out. I won the pool. We think you are adorable. I am a..." he squinted. "Bad handwriting...oh! I am a barman at the Owl's Roost in Knockturn Alley and if you ever want a drink ask for Nathan. You can bring Mr. Black too."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius asked.

"Some people like a well-groomed man," Remus said loftily, taking a handful of letters from Ted. "Here's one for you, Sirius, and there's a photog -- oh, my." He tucked the photo back in the letter and hastily put it in the envelope.

"This one's from Anthony," Harry said, eyebrows rising.

"Who's Anthony?" Andromeda asked.

"He just left Hogwarts, he was in Ravenclaw."

"Anthony Leeson?" Remus asked. "Let me see."

"Tall bloke, messy hair?" Sirius asked.

"That's the one, he played Beater for Ravenclaw for two years. Dear Professor Lupin, I fancied you for six months..." Remus blushed. "...but now that I know you have a boyfriend I've decided to fancy someone else instead. I reckon you'll get a lot of letters so if you get any from people who like Quidditch and Herbology please forward them. Cheeky bastard. Too clever for his own good by half."

"They're still coming," Ted said, as another letter flew in the window. "And there's Howlers, too."

"Let 'em howl," Sirius replied.

"It'll be trouble sooner or later," Remus said. "I did warn you."

"Well, every time someone's nasty to us, show 'em a letter," Sirius said. "Go on then, give me one." He unfolded the letter and scanned it. "Merlin, this one wrote a novel."

Dora burst out laughing, and everyone looked at her. She waved an envelope that was marked TRANSATLANTIC EXPRESS.

"You've been asked to Fire Island for the summer," she said, giggling. "Apparently the American papers covered it too, or someone in America gets the Prophet."

"And....an advert for a bath house in Exeter. I had no idea bath-houses even still existed," Ted said.

"When did you go to a bath-house ever?" Andromeda asked.

"Never, my own," Ted assured her.

"Dear Sirius Black," Harry said, holding a thick piece of parchment and frowning. The others heard the tone of his voice and fell silent. "My daddies say they would vote for you for Minister for Magic. They said I should write to you because this morning Daddy Alex brought over all his boxes and he's moving in with us and they say it's your fault. I hope you have a nice day. Sincerely, Maggie." He offered it to Sirius. "She's five."

Remus rubbed his eyes.

"Are you crying, you big nancy?" Sirius asked.

"I'm hung over," Remus replied, sniffling.

"Budge down," Sirius said, prodding him, and sat down next to him.

"It's not a revolution," Remus said. "After a few days things'll die down and go back to the way they were. You know that, don't you?"

"Not for Maggie and her daddies," Andromeda said. "Or for you, I guess."

"Slow revolutions are better," Sirius decided. "Pass us some letters, Harry." From below, the indistinct sound of bursting Howlers drifted up, but they were too far away to be heard clearly. "I want to see if there are any more naughty photographs. I think I'll send them to Rita Skeeter."

***

All this being said, Remus does end up leaving Hogwarts, mainly because he has Harry to consider. Dumbledore is more than willing to keep him on and fight for his rights, but Remus feels it's better for Hogwarts if he steps down.

BOOK FOUR: THE CRUCIBLE

I have to admit I had very little idea of what to do with book four. I do know that Snake is at this point going to get too big to be carried around easily, so he goes to live in Snape's snake-room.

I know that I was planning on having Barty Crouch Jr. come to the school as an inside agent of Lucius and Peter, but the plot was a little less....well, let's face it, less stupid. The reason Lucius and Peter wait until the end of the year to capture Harry again is that they have to, because it takes a lot of spellwork to set up what they want to do.

I was going to introduce some amusing little touches here and there, but window-decoration is most of what I have: things like tomtens (Scandinavian elves) serving as valets for the Durmstrang kids, and the slight war between the Hogwarts house-elves and the Tomtens. I'd toyed with the idea of Dobby falling in love with one. I also wanted to play with the sophistication of the Beauxbatons students, making them a bit more permissive than the Hogwarts kids -- I had planned a scene where Fleur makes a pass at a totally oblivious Padma.

Interpersonally, Neville is formally adopted as a member of the Tonks household in book four -- until now he's been essentially a long-term foster child, but Ted and Andromeda are both looking to the future and they want to secure the family name for him. There may be some back-and-forth about this because Neville doesn't want to abandon his biological parents, but he loves Ted and Andi a lot.

This causes Sirius to consider adopting Harry, something he's never wanted to do because he wants to be Sirius, not Dad -- he doesn't want to step into James' shoes. Harry himself is ambivalent because of the Black inheritance laws, which would be complicated by this. If Sirius were to die without adopting Harry, the Black estate would legally HAVE to go to Draco as the next male heir, but if Harry is adopted that estate HAS to go to Harry. Essentially it's a case of Neville, Harry, and Draco all being potential heirs to the estate, as well as best friends -- Neville through Andromeda, Draco through Narcissa, and Harry through Sirius. Draco's somewhat jealous over this, because Harry would get the inheritance (ie, the power Draco needs to break away from his mother) as well as a loving home.

Draco has other things to worry about however, because he's been working really hard on Transfiguration. Everyone has always thought he's really bad at it, and there is some truth to that, but only because he's actually really good at it. Draco's always had a natural flair for Transfiguration but he's never done well in class because he can't do consciously what he does instinctively. McGonagall's been well-aware of this for some time -- that Draco will be a genius at it if she can get him trained in the basics -- and all of his hard work is starting to pay off. He's a bit absentminded with the group in fourth-year because he's working with McGonagall on the Animagus transformation. In part because he desperately wants to be like Sirius, who he sees as everything he isn't: strong, charismatic, witty, someone that people love on sight.

Anyway, about 2/3 of the way through the book he achieves it...becoming a white ferret. :D

Initially some of my betas objected to the idea, because ferrets are kind of mean and sneaky, but they're also clever and good at hiding -- and by the end of the fifth book, especially, Draco can be cruel and vicious when he wishes to be. Draco's also still dealing with the fallout from being abducted by his father, and tends to shy away from pranks where they go out after hours or alone because he never wants to be far from a teacher.

Fourteen is a time of Grate Hormones and that is definitely going to start affecting the kids. Draco has had a crush on Padma practically since they met, in one way or another, and in book four actually summons the courage to ask her to the Yule Ball. I do have a snippet of this scene:

***

"All right," Harry said. "Well, we'll draw lots for Padma, and the losers will just have to find someone else."

"No," Draco said suddenly. Neville and Harry looked at him.

"Why not?" Neville asked. "It's only fair that way."

"We can't draw lots for her," Draco replied.

"Sure we can," Harry said. "Long as you don't go doing something stupid like telling her we did it."

"Even if we did, and I wouldn't do that to her, it's too late," Draco said. "She's already been asked."

"What?" Harry and Neville said in unison. "Who asked her?" Harry added. Draco looked down at his hands.

"I did," he said. "And she's said yes."

There was a long moment of silence while Harry and Neville digested this unexpected news. Finally, Harry turned to Neville.

"Right," he said. "I'll go rock-paper-scissors with you for Parvati."

***

Draco in the end gets Padma to set Parvati up with Harry, which is not entirely successful because Harry still isn't interested in girls. Harry and his parents all think that this is probably just late-blooming, but given a scene I wanted to write where Harry has some serious sexual tension with Cedric, it should start to become obvious that Harry Isn't Interested In Girls.

There's an interesting scene I was working on where Padma wears a gorgeous formal sari to the ball, but Parvati turns her nose up at it and wears an incredibly frilly, hideous dress, which isn't helping Harry's interest in girls at all. I never really dealt with Neville's romantic entanglements this early, but I think essentially he's the Neville of the books, shy around girls and working hard to keep up in classes. From the Yule Ball, Draco and Padma do begin a very quiet, very casual relationship, which we'll see expanded on in book five.

So much for the kids. In book four Remus and Sirius do open another bookshop in Hogsmeade, and are struggling with various things -- being Out in a very conservative world, trying to help Harry with the Triwizard Tournament and with being the very famous son of two (now) very famous gay men. I hadn't fleshed this out much, I admit. Much of the adult interaction in this book comes in the form of Remus and Sirius worrying about Harry and trying to be good parents to a teenager, as well as becoming surrogate parents for the others; I also had a subthread of McGonagall being furiously jealous of them because she's been basically married to Madam Hooch for years and is envious that they can afford to be Out. Dora and Snape, of course, are busy trying to help and protect Harry as well, but also working on their own really fairly new relationship.

The labyrinth scene at the end of book four, in this case, is used by Lucius and Peter to capture Harry and help him find Voldemort. The labyrinth itself becomes a magical sort of scrying tool; Harry has to find his way out of it, and at the end lies Voldemort, the Voldemort that Peter in the real books found dying and weak. Harry triumphs, of course, and I intended to have Cedric survive, but Peter and Lucius have found Voldemort now.

One side effect of this kidnapping is that Narcissa insists not even Sirius and Remus can protect Draco; she demands he be returned to her at the end of the summer, so Draco has to go back, after almost two years without her, and live in the horrible Malfoy mansion again.

BOOK FIVE: THE ORDER ASCENDANT

I have the opening of book five written, actually.

***

"Parvati, answer the door!"

Parvati Patil, fifteen and very much a fifteen-year-old, rolled her eyes as if getting up from the couch and walking ten feet to the door was an imposition on her civil liberties that was not to be borne. The doorbell rang again.

"PARVATI!"

"Yes, dad," she called, setting aside the magazine she was reading. It was pouring down rain out; only salesmen and fools went out in this weather.

Draco Malfoy stood on her doorstep. Well, fools then.

"Hi, Parvati," he said. "Can I come in? It's pissing down out."

"Sure," she said. "Padma's out, though."

"Yeah, I know -- her last letter told me your mum was taking her to Cornwall for the week-end," Draco said. "Sorry, I'm dripping on your floor..."

"It's fine, we have drying charms," she replied. He shrugged out of his sodden overcoat and hung it on a hook. Underneath, he was dry but dressed very strangely; trousers were a concession to travelling in the Muggle world, but he wore a high, stiff collar and a formal black coat over his crisp white shirt.

"Just come from the opera, have you?" she asked.

"Cheek," he replied. "Your dad's around, isn't he?"

"Who is it, sweetheart?" Ram Patil asked, poking his head through the doorway from kitchen to living room. "Draco, hello."

"Sir," Draco said, smoothing down his wet hair.

"Here, let me -- " Ram flicked his wand out of his sleeve and idly dried the boy off. "Caught out, were you?"

"Started to rain when I left the train station," Draco replied.

"I'm sorry you've come all this way for nothing; Padma's gone for the week-end..."

"Oh, yes, I know, sir," Draco replied. "I came to talk to you."

The older man stared at him, looking concerned. "To me, Draco?"

Draco glanced at Parvati, who looked very interested in the goings-on. Ram followed his gaze.

"Right -- well, come into the library then," he said, jerking his head towards the stairs. Draco followed him up, Parvati remaining curiously downstairs.

The little room off the landing was well-lit, even with the blue and foggy light coming through the wide windows; the Parvatis had electricity, which Draco was only passingly familiar with from the River House in Betwys Beddau. Ram sat down comfortably in one of the chairs and waved Draco into the other.

"I'd prefer to stand, sir," Draco said. Ram grinned at him.

"All this state, Draco -- it must be something serious," he said. The young boy before him wasn't any older than his daughters, but he was well-grown for fifteen; slim and serious, with a sharp, foxlike face and white-blond hair that could rather use a haircut. And those clothes...

"You see -- well, sir," Draco began, "My family's very big on Tradition, Mr. Patil. English Tradition, I mean -- pureblood tradition, I guess you could call it," he added apologetically.

"Yes, I'm aware," Ram said. "I suspect this has something to do with Padma, Draco, but you'll have to explain it to me a little more fully than that."

Draco nodded. "It's customary, sir, to give honourable notice of intent -- which is to say I've come to ask you as the paterfamilias for your permission to court your daughter."

Ram blinked.

"I'm prepared to make the usual oaths of chastity and temperance if you want them -- "

The older man, who understood the onus of tradition, tried not to laugh. Chastity, temperance, and courting. Oh dear.

"I don't think that will be necessary, just yet," he replied. "Do sit down, Draco."

"Yes, sir," Draco sat and tapped his fingers nervously on his well-pressed trousers. Ram smiled reassuringly.

"And according to Tradition, Draco, what ought I to do now?" he inquired.

"Question me about my intentions, activities, breeding, and wealth," Draco replied promptly. "And then give or refuse your consent."

"We aren't discussing arranged marriages or anything like that, are we? I'm fairly certain your mother would have to broker that particular deal," Ram said.

"No sir. Just courting, sir."

"Which consists of?"

Draco frowned. Apparently the definition of courting was not something he'd prepared ahead of time.

"Taking her to Hogsmeade," he said. "And studying with her. Fighting with people who don't like her. I mean, I do all that anyway, but this would be in a sort of...more exclusive setting."

"I see. I suppose your intentions are honourable?"

"Yes, sir. I like her very much, Mr. Patil."

"I'm sure you do. It's difficult not to. Well, let's see, breeding I think I'm already aware of -- " he hesitated when Draco frowned, and realised his gaffe. "You'd like to give explanation for your father, I suppose."

"I've dissociated myself with him; my parents are fully divorced," Draco said. "I have declared myself his enemy and am prepared to act accordingly."

"I'm sorry, Draco," Ram said gently. Draco bit his lip and inhaled sharply. "Very well, that leaves wealth."

"On my majority at seventeen I will receive a one-third share in the Malfoy family interests, including retail property in Knockturn Alley, investments with Gringotts Bank, and the Malfoy estate, currently held by my mother," Draco recited. "At the age of twenty-four the share rises to two-thirds with the remaining to my mother while she lives. In addition, I am partial heir to the Black family, with properties and investments to be distributed at the discretion of our paterfamilias, Sirius Black."

Ram listened to the young man -- still a boy, really -- recite these statistics, but he didn't really hear them. He was thinking, quite suddenly, of the burden Draco carried. The burden, he supposed, that Padma had equal part in, along with Potter and that Longbottom lad.

He smiled at Draco. "Has Tradition been satisfied, young Malfoy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very well; I shouldn't mention this to Padma if I were you, since I believe it's out of date to have the menfolk arranging womens' lives for them, but as far as I'm concerned you have my consent if you need it that badly. Now," he added, as Draco opened his mouth to speak, "let me indulge in a little tradition, please."

Draco sat back, watching warily.

"If you hurt my daughter -- oh, I don't mean spats and breakups, those things happen when one is fifteen -- if you abuse her, injure her, or are cruel to her, you will find yourself hanging by your ankles from the nearest tree," Ram said. "I won't say what you can and cannot do with my daughter, Draco Malfoy, but so help me if my brilliant child has an unexpected baby, the only thing saving you from death will be the fact that you will need to be alive in order to support her."

"I -- " Draco's mouth opened and shut. "I wouldn't -- I would never -- we've hardly kissed!" he blurted. Ram realised he may have reacted more strongly than the situation warranted.

"I believe that," he said. "I do. But you ought to know beforehand that Patils do not brook with their family being maltreated. Not that I think this matters, really; if you hurt Padma she's likely to hurt you back herself before I can get to you."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, regaining a little composure. "She -- yes, that's true."

"There's that done, then. Will you stay for tea? Sarasvati left samosas, Padma's told me you like them."

Draco looked glum. "I'm afraid I can't -- mum's expecting me home soon."

Ram sensed a lie in what he said, but he didn't press; Padma had also told him that Draco and his mother had myriad problems between them, and that was none of his concern.

"I do have a letter for Padma..." Draco dug a slightly creased envelope out of his pocket. "Would you give it to her when she gets back?"

"Of course," Ram said, accepting the letter and rising to see Draco to the door. Parvati was dancing with anticipation and curiosity, but a look from her father warned her not to ask questions. He offered Draco an umbrella, which was accepted gratefully, and helped him into his overcoat.

"Safe travel home," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Patil," Draco replied. He offered his hand, manlike, and Ram shook it.

But when the blond boy was out the door and halfway down the street, Ram took the envelope up to the bedroom he shared with Sara and studied it. It was unsealed, and while Ram was a trusting father he was no fool either. He opened it and unfolded the parchment inside.

***

July 2
Malfoy Estate

Dear Padma,

Sorry to come while you were gone, but it couldn't wait and I had to get out of the house while mum was gone to even come to London. I wish I could have seen you though. I'm giving this to your dad to give to you because I'm not allowed to use the owls anymore without mum reading through my letters first, coming and going. Please explain things to Harry and Neville so they don't write anything bad to me, because Mum will read it.

Mum found the last letter you sent and we had an enormous row about it. She doesn't think I should be writing to girls, she's got plans to arrange a marriage for me with some distant cousin. Five years ago I would have said fine -- three years ago, even. That's tradition and I'm supposed to respect her wishes but I can't anymore. She doesn't like you writing to me either, she said awful things that I won't repeat but -- well, Pureblood to her mind means English, or European at any rate. I know you're as English as I am but she's stupid about stuff like that. You're more important than tradition.

I miss you like anything and all I want to do is sneak up to the music room and sit with you like we did last year. I had Dobby sneak a bunch of stuff out of the house so I don't even have the photograph we did at the Yule Ball but I think about it all the time. You looked so pretty. Don't I look pale, too? I was terrified.

It's going to be awful, not being able to write to you for two months, but I'll see you at the platform when school starts and once we're on the train it won't matter who we are, will it? And when I'm seventeen I'll be rich and there won't be anything mum can do about it. I'm going to buy a house in India and study Eastern Magic like your mum does. But I'll come visit you while you're at Oxford, promise.

Anyway, I hope your salamander is doing ok. When you go to India to visit your gran in August will you take lots of pictures for me?

Your boyfriend,
Draco

***

Ram sat in the bedroom with the letter and thought long and hard, until Parvati gave up in disgust and fixed her own tea. Then he made a copy of the letter, refolded it, and locked both copies in his desk drawer. Padma could have the original when she got home. He didn't know how Sara would take to the idea of Padma dating a young white boy, the son of an infamous lunatic, but if she didn't like it she could read the letter for herself.

Draco was an upstanding kid, if a little wild, and he was a Hufflepuff. He had a good head on his shoulders and was interested not just in Padma but in her life -- her heritage. Possibly as much as Padma was, and certainly more than Parvati was. Moreover, he would be a wealthy man one day and he respected Padma. Ram swelled with pride at the thought of his daughter studying at Oxford. She hadn't even confided that dream to him.

Yes, Draco Malfoy certainly had his consent to court his daughter.

***

I admit that I don't have much of a plot outlined for the rest of the books, and I am finally realising why.

One of the effects of writing an AU like this, which parallels the books, is that you start to see very clearly where the plot holes, the patches, and the failures are. I wrote a bit about this when I was working on book two. Comparing where Laocoon's Children was headed to where the rest of the books went, I can see a sea-change between the first four and the second three, with Goblet of Fire as the turnpiece.

In the last three books, I suspect JKR realised that Voldemort couldn't be the only big bad; there weren't three books left in that idea. So she had to shift some of the antagonism from Voldemort to the Ministry. In a way it works because when you're fifteen-sixteen-seventeen you are rebelling against authority and there's a lot of impotent anger at the seemingly pointless restrictions placed on you as a young adult. It's what makes the last books so difficult to read, at least for me, all that rage and all that restriction and at the time it seems like there's nothing you can do about it. But regardless, they are very difficult books to read because they introduce this horrific police state that can't really be fought against effectively. That's not where I would have taken Laocoon's Children, especially since a major theme of the story up until now has been how Harry could have flourished if he'd had a loving and supportive parental group to guide him. At the same time, are there three more books' worth of story in the battle against Voldemort?

I suspect in book five of Laocoon's Children a major theme would have been a battle Remus had to fight, because he returns to teach Dark Arts now that Crouch is gone. The Ministry certainly doesn't want the Boy Who Lived to be raised by a pair of homosexuals, so Remus teaching at Hogwarts is one way to secure his parental rights over Harry. This would be a major fight, both externally and internally -- every move Remus made would be watched by the public and by the government, and he would face a lot of discrimination from Hogwarts itself. Harry would have to have a hand in that too, giving him a very clear look at the kind of thing Remus has had to deal with all his life.

I think Harry would still start to see visions connected to Voldemort, who don't forget at this point is still very weak. Instead of that useless, ridiculous prophecy, Voldemort would need something in the secure archives of the Ministry for Magic that could revive him, bring him back to his full power. That's what Harry will be seeing, the quest for that item.

I certainly didn't intend that Sirius would die, though I think he would survive only because Remus would begin to have screaming nightmares about him dying, and thus be well-informed enough to be there to save him before he could be hit by the Avada Kedavra -- in LC canon, don't forget, Remus can take a direct hit from an Avada Kedavra and survive. But in saving Sirius he allows Voldemort the time to get hold of the item he needs and revive himself, so there's also a guilt there: he saved the man he loves, but put the world in danger.

Harry and Snape's relationship would also definitely have to change in this. For one thing, Harry would be made captain of the Quidditch team, which is a heavy responsibility. More than that, however, there are the legilimency lessons to consider. I think with Harry less antagonistic towards Snape, and Snape more as a mentor, we would get the story of Snape's history much sooner. Bearing in mind that LC was written and plotted well before books six and seven came out, I'm not sure how to incorporate Snape's crush on Lily, but I would imagine this is where that story would be told. Snape and Harry are coming to see each other, in book five, more on the level of fellow-soldiers than as teacher and student, so it's something they'd have to work through, and something that Snape would have to deal with as well because -- this is the love of his young life, and now he has a new love for the first time in years. How does he explain to Dora that the woman he loved as a boy is Harry's dead mother?

Most of the concrete notes I had made at the time I was writing were relationship notes, to be honest. Not necessarily romance, just relationships. Harry and Sirius are still discussing formal adoption, and I did have a scene in my mind where Sirius takes Harry to the Black family tomb to explain to him what happened to his family, especially Regulus, and how if Harry is adopted it's more than just inheriting money. Harry becomes the presumptive paterfamilias of the House of Black, with rights and duties to perform.

I sort of had Padma and Draco ticking along as a couple, with all the troubles a couple faces, especially an interracial couple. Harry, meanwhile, is definitely coming to realise that he's not a late bloomer, that he's interested in boys, which is complicated by Sirius teasing him that he has a crush on Padma -- because Harry is actually hugely jealous of Padma since he fancies Draco. There's a scene I never wrote, which was nonetheless often at the forefront of my mind, where Harry finally blows up at Sirius and goes off for a sulk, leaving Sirius totally confused about why Harry's angry with him over some gentle teasing. Remus catches on a bit quicker and has a heart-to-heart with Harry where Harry finally admits he might be gay.

I was a bit hesitant to do this at first, because I truly dislike the Everyone Is Gay! trope, but it makes sense to me that if a child were gay, they'd be more likely to be open and comfortable with it, or even realise it, if they had gay parents. I think this shows in some of the arc I had set up for Remus, where he really does worry for a while that it's somehow his fault. A side-arc resulting from this is that Harry takes up with Neville, who is sort of casually bisexual; he's a bit reluctant, but he and Harry fool around a little.

Fifth year is OWLs time and I'm not sure how those go -- Padma of course does extremely well, but Neville gets inches from a nervous breakdown and needs a heart-to-heart from Remus to set him right again. Harry is sort of...uninterested in academic achievement, so he basically does average, and Draco is likewise average except for being able to demonstrate his Animagery. He's on the actual books as an Animagus, unlike Sirius, so he can be aboveboard with it. I suspect he might be offered a scholarship to a special school for Transfiguration and turn it down.

At the end of the book I do know that Draco, having battled his father outright and at least for a little while had him at his mercy, feels strong enough to reject his mother and send her packing, much as Sirius did when he himself was fifteen. When she comes to collect him directly from Hogwarts, he publicly repudiates her on the platform, in front of the school, and renounces his claim to the Malfoy inheritance. Remus manages to stop him before he renounces the Blacks, as well, which means he's still blood of the Blacks and can still go back to Betwys Beddau with them.

BOOK SIX: SOLDIERS AND PRINCES

You need to bear in mind, again, that books six and seven didn't exist when Laocoon's Children was begun. We knew that book six would be called The Half Blood Prince, which is where I took Soldiers And Princes from as a title. So from here what I have is a mixture of my own notes and what I now know about the last two books, or can remember from the single time I've read each of them. I literally have no plot outline at all for book six.

Here are some of the things I know. Snape and Dora get married in book six, probably a sort of hasty war-wedding analogy; marrying because they might die any day and they want what little they can grasp. I suspect this would have been the opening -- everyone attending the Snape-Tonks wedding, which allows me to reintroduce the characters and what they've been doing all summer.

I know that Draco has been in Betwys Beddau, where he got a summer job because he needs the money. He's too proud to accept much from Sirius, having already accepted his protection. His job, I think, was probably low-paid intern at the Betwys Beddau weekly newspaper, as a sort of lead-in to the career I'm going to give him later. Harry has spent the summer carefree, except for missing Neville, and living with Draco has more or less destroyed the crush he had on him. :D Neville has been working at Tonks & Tonks with an eye towards going into magical tailoring, and Padma spent her summer taking classes in Diagon Alley, so that she could have a leg up when they begin their sixth year.

At the wedding, Neville also runs into Ginny and immediately falls for her, which wrecks his growing relationship with Harry. I have the two of them messing around for a while before Harry finds out and is crushed, leading to a rift between the friends, but it's patched over relatively quickly when they realise they have to stand united or Voldemort's going to win easily.

I have in my notes that Tonks finds a copy of Salazar Slytherin's journal, translated by Phineas Nigellus in the 17th century, but I'm not sure where I was going with that. I also have a note that the Music Room the children know about can be charmed to "play" everything that's going on in the castle, but you have to be trained to pick out the bits you actually want to hear, and I have a note to "use that" but I didn't know where, even then.

One solid arc I wanted to put in was Remus's visions intensifying and becoming inceasingly upsetting. At one point he sees himself in a relationship with Tonks, which is baffling to him because he's never fancied women. Makes things awkward for a while. :D

I had not counted on anything approaching Horcruxes at this point, especially since I'd essentially ALREADY INVENTED THEM for Amid My Solitude, which was also written before book six. I was envisioning the clashes between Voldemort's forces and the Order simply increasing in scale and intensity. I had also planned for Remus to continue teaching Dark Arts, not counting on Slughorn being key to book six. But in the end -- is he, really?

So I imagine that book six would have a similar plot to the real book six: finding out about Tom Riddle's past, and about the horcruxes. I also have it in my notes that Remus knew about them (ala my fic in which he studies them at school) but I don't know where that was going either.

I think it's key that in book six Dumbledore would not die. That entire subplot sucked, and there's no reason to 1. make Draco evil at this point or 2. kill Dumbledore. The point of killing him was to take away Harry's last real vestige of support, but Harry already has a strong support in LC -- the Tonkses, Snape, Remus and Sirius, and the support of the other Houses in the form of his friends. So killing Dumbledore is pointless.

BOOK SEVEN: HERE BE DRAGONS

(At the time I didn't know what the title of book seven would be, so I titled it appropriately.)

I very strongly want to keep Harry in school for book seven. I think taking him out of school and sending him on the run was a mistake and a waste of time and good storytelling. In rewriting this book, I would base everything out of Hogwarts, a Hogwarts under siege from Voldemort's forces -- subtly at first, of course.

I had the opening written in a way -- it's present-tense, which I would have altered, but I was planning to open it with Oliver Wood, newly-recruited by the Order, coming to bring Harry news as Harry shelters in Betwys Beddau. This begins a sort of dance that Oliver and Harry engage in all year, circling each other. Harry fancies Oliver, but he was burned by his half-relationship with Neville and he knows how hard it can be for a gay man in the wizarding world. Plus he can't think about this shit now, he has a war to win, and yet he wants it. Oliver, on the other hand, is merely sort of in awe of Harry and also feels that perhaps Harry is a bit young for him, despite knowing that he's falling for him. Here's the opening.

***

The cottage in Betwys Beddau is safe, which is why they're there, but when Oliver touches down he thinks it's awfully morbid, as well. He likes the moors and the heath as much as the next cityborn Scot, but out here it can't be much fun for the kids.

He hasn't seen Harry in years, except in photos, and to him Harry's still one of the kids, with his curly little black head bent over a book next to Draco, or further back, eight-year-old Harry afraid of the wind outside the tower and clutching Frog tightly for comfort.

There's a young man standing on the porch, and Oliver doesn't realise it's Harry until one of the callused hands grips his and Harry smiles and tosses his hair off his forehead.

"Good of you to come," he says. "You're looking well."

"Harry?" Oliver asks, because this whip-thin rangy man with a smile like a shark isn't the Harry he recalls at all.

"It's been a few years," Harry agrees. He looks tired, and he moves like a -- more like a snake than a panther, with muscles that seem to slide under his skin. It isn't natural to move that gracefully. "Come inside, there's tea and sandwiches."

"Ta," Oliver replies, unnerved.

But inside, it's warmer and brighter and Remus is in the kitchen with Draco, frying sausages while he assembles turkey-and-cheese sandwiches. When Harry turns back to re-introduce him, the smile is more genuine. Oliver sees that Frog has been placed in a position of honour in the bookshelf, next to all seven Standard Books of Spells, and he smiles back.

***

In book seven, along with the quest for the Horcruces (as in Cartographer's Craft) Harry is searching for items of power to help him in his fight. Possibly these powerful items are drawn from the diary of Slytherin that Dora finds. At any rate, they're not quite the Deathly Hallows, which baffled me and never made all that much sense. I was toying with Harry finding Excalibur, oh so British, but I also did have firm plans for them to locate something called the Servant's Key.

***

"What is it?" Harry asked, eyeing the iron ring cautiously. Snape continued to pull roots and filth away from an object on one end.

"A tool of some power," Snape replied. "It's known as the Servant's Key."

"What does it do?"

"There's an ancient belief that it will summon an army," Snape said with a shrug. "When England is endangered. You find them all over the country -- the beliefs, that is -- about various things. This one is wizard-forged, so it may actually be true. For the Dark Lord to be able to summon an army instantaneously would be disastrous; it's good we've found it first."

***

I was toying with the idea of Snape also getting into Voldemort's good graces by presenting a supposedly "brainwashed" Draco to Lucius and Voldemort. I'm not sure Draco could pull this off but I like to think he could. It's part of a theme of trinity that I was exploring for the last book, two trinities: Lucius-Sirius, Draco-Harry, and Voldemort-Remus as father, son, and spirit. With Draco's defection at the end, Voldemort's power would be weakened.

He would still be strong enough to lay a full-on siege against Hogwarts, an idea I had long before the battle of Hogwarts in the real book seven. I wanted to actually divert the siege from Hogwarts to the Creadonagh Valley, which is the valley that Sirius and Remus's house in Hogsmeade looks down on. That house would become a base of operations for the Order, and the final battle would take place in the valley itself.

While Voldemort's forces are amassing, so are Harry's. The Servant's Key, as it turns out, does summon an army -- of House-Elves. Draco's veneration by the House Elves has been leading up to this all along. There's a code amongst the House-Elves that if the country is in danger they can abandon their duties to fight for its safety. Which would be well and good, but they're not sure they actually want to. Draco is the one who has to talk them into it, because they do adore him. But I was really always very disappointed with JKR's treament of House-Elves, so another attachment to this code is that those who fight for Britain's safety are freed afterwards. I want the House-Elves to go free, and I think it's important that they make the decision for themselves.

***

"Harry," Padma said, looking out the window, "I think Draco's army finally arrived."

The others ran to the window and stared down at the road. There were easily twenty-thousand bodies on the march; they were walking in formation, weapons of various sorts slung over their shoulders, up the path. And they were singing as they went.

"An army of House Elves?" Harry demanded, staring at the little green creatures that were moving with such military precision.

"Why not?" Padma asked, grinning. "Draco's always said house-elves could do anything."

***

Before Harry can defeat Voldemort, however, one of the relics he's unearthed tells him that there's something he has to do. He's known for a while that the Forbidden Forest can not only transport people to different places but also to different times, and at Christmas -- or rather Yule, the longest night of the year -- Harry knows that he has to go into the forest to ensure that this world actually exists.

For some time, Remus has been building a sort of vision of the world he dreams about, a terrible dystopia where Sirius and Dumbledore are dead, he himself has spent years struggling to survive, and Harry is a fugitive. Remus is seeing the canonical books as a kind of horror story. He knows that their world will cease to exist and that world will be the one that triumphs, unless they can find the point where the two worlds diverged. Which, as we who have been reading know, is the "lost owl" that never made it to Remus and thus kept Remus in Britain, allowing him to prevent Sirius from going after Peter.

Harry realises he has to divert the owl on its course, and the only way to do that without a time turner is to go into the Forbidden Forest. This is the plot of the never written Lost Owl short story -- Remus stops Sirius because he never left Britain; he never left Britain because he never got the train ticket; he never got the train ticket because the owl was knocked off-course by a strange hooded figure on a broomstick.

In the Forest, of course, Harry meets his counterpart -- the canonical Harry of book seven, grieving, lost, and battle-weary. I wrote this scene years ago, long before we knew that Harry would have to go into the forest to die in book seven. It is in many ways the crowning scene of Laocoon's Children, and not just because I'm in it. :D

In this scene, Harry has met his counterpart. He's trying to find a way back sixteen years, to the night the post-owl was sent; Harry is (well, now anyway) trying to find his way to the place where he meets the ghosts of his family. They meet the Author, as well as a few other alternate realities...

***

"Shh, do you hear that?" Harry asked the other boy, who stopped and cocked his head, listening alertly. There had been birdsong in the little clearing, but now a pattern was emerging, underneath the birds, coming from one of the trees. As they listened it evolved into a tune, a simple, lilting thing.

Harry hesitantly walked the few feet towards the tree it seemed to be coming from, looking up in the branches. A fair-haired man was sitting on a low bough, and when he saw Harry he stopped and smiled.

"Hello," he said, easing himself off the bough and dropping eight or ten feet to the ground. "Harry. Harry."

He might have been mistaken for a student in the Muggle clothing he wore -- a white Oxford shirt and dark trousers, black shoes. No robe or tie, though, and no Hogwarts crest on his shirt. He carried a small Muggle penny-whistle pipe in one hand.

"Never did learn much skill on it," he said, glancing at the whistle. "Funny, isn't it? Everything's patterns, you know, ways of fitting things together, but some patterns are so much easier than others. Music...not so easy."

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Mmh, that should be obvious..." the man's blue eyes scanned the shadows at the clearing's edge. "You may as well come forward," he called. "It's all right, no-one's going to be hurt here."

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw two or three people come out of the trees from a few different directions. One was Firenze, looking sleeker and much more glossy than Harry recalled him, and with him came a dark-haired man about his own age, which Harry recognised as Sirius, a much younger Sirius, the Sirius of photographs in albums, wearing a red cloak.

A middle-aged man with a narrow, handsome face and grey edging through his hair emerged next, and then -- Remus, looking even more old and careworn, with pale white hair. It looked like he leaned on Dora's shoulder for support, and Dora -- Dora was visibly pregnant.

The pale-haired man smiled and walked past Harry and his counterpart, offering his hand to Sirius first.

"Hallo, Sirius," he said warmly. "How's the map? Firenze, you look well. Looking after our young Tutor, are we?"

Firenze nodded. The young man clapped Firenze on the shoulder, a move that would have terrified Harry, and turned to the middle-aged man who stood alone.

"Tom," he said softly. Harry's companion gripped his arm.

"That's Tom Riddle," he hissed.

"But not Lord Voldemort," the young man called back without looking. "Just Tom Gaunt, Professor Tom Gaunt, eh?"

"So they say," Tom replied. "Pleasure to see you again."

"Pleasure's mine. And here we have -- hullo Tonks, feeling all right?"

"Yes, thank you," she said quietly. "He's not, though."

"Mm, fatherhood weighs heavy on the soul." This was directed at Remus, who smiled with odd pride and glanced at Dora possessively.

"Lighter than you'd think," he said.

"That's the spirit, then. Hup!" called the man, as a final figure ran into the clearing. He caught the little boy in his arms and lifted him up, propping him on his hip and carrying him back to the tree, where both Harrys still stood.

"That's not my Remus," Harry said, pointing to the white-haired man.

"And that's definitely not my Sirius," the other one added, but he looked at the young man with hungry eyes.

"No -- they're mine," the blond man said. Harry studied the young boy in the man's arms, carefully. "Yes Harry -- here you are."

"That's me?" Harry asked. His counterpart was silent.

"This is you." A smile, and a tweak of the young boy's nose. "He has an appointment with a big black dog at Sandust Books tomorrow. Harry -- you," he said, pointing to the other Harry. "Have you found your way?"

The other Harry shook his head.

"It's all right, kid," the man said, gripping the other Harry by the back of the neck. "It'll be okay, I promise. You'd better go soon, though. The world's depending on you."

"It isn't fair," the other Harry protested.

"I know," the man said. "And I'm so sorry. But it'll be okay. You'll know that someday. As for you," he continued, moving on to Harry, "Have you found the owl yet?"

"Not yet," Harry said.

"Well, you'd better do it soon. This one," he tightened his grip on the boy, "Is depending on you. You have one chance to change history -- you won't be allowed to decide where and when, we never are. But how...how is always up to you."

"Who are you?" Harry asked. The young boy in the man's arms wrapped his arms around his neck and looked out shyly at everyone gathered in the forest.

"Isn't it obvious?" the man grinned. "I'm the Storyteller."

"The what?"

"There is a singular world," the Storyteller said. "His was created first -- that other Harry there, he comes from it. He isn't mine. In fact tonight, he's the only one in the forest who isn't. But you, Harry -- and these others -- are my handiwork, my stories, sculpted from a mould another made. They weren't mine, not back when the world was created, but they are now. You're one of them too; that's why you're here. After everything you've done, every story...well. I wanted to meet you. Just once. Here, where the centre holds."

He carried the child to Tom, Tom Gaunt, who accepted the young boy from his arms.

"Take him home safely," the Storyteller ordered. "In the morning this will just be a dream he had. Firenze?"

The centaur bowed his head and gestured for Sirius to come along. They set out back into the forest and were gone as soon as their shadows faded.

"Remus, how goes the war?" the Storyteller asked.

"We're winning," Remus answered.

"Hold onto that then. Off you go -- you too, Harry, and remember what I've said."

The other Harry nodded, looking confused, and after a lingering look at Harry he set off through the trees, in the direction the Storyteller had pointed.

And then it was just Harry and the Storyteller.

"If you follow the polestar, you'll end where you need to be," the man said, with a kind look. "Good luck, lad. You'll need it."

"Can't you come?"

"No! Dear me, no, that would never do. I shouldn't want that," he said with a laugh. "Besides, I have promises to keep. I'm due to watch the sunrise with a dear friend, from the tallest tree in the forest."

"But -- "

"Ah ah, Harry. Run on now." The man swung himself back up into the tree, and gestured with the little whistle for Harry to get a move on. "Go with my love."

***

Ultimately, of course, Harry does knock the owl out of its course, ensuring that his universe will continue to exist. When he returns, only Oliver is still awake, and they share a romantic moment before the sunrise.

The next day, Harry triumphs in the battle against Voldemort, leading his fellow students, some of the teachers, an army of House-Elves, and a last-minute cavalry of the Centaurs. I think a couple of flying motorbikes might be involved, too. :D

EPILOGUE: THE VALLEY HOUSE

I never really considered writing an epilogue, but I did have some idea of where the children would go from here, and the adults too. Remus and Sirius stayed on in Hogsmeade, Remus teaching and Sirius running a bookshop in the town. Dora and Snape eventually had a child, who I can now see is Theodore Snape, not an orphan at all but a smart-mouthed, sarcastic metamorphmagus who I have no doubt thrived as a Ravenclaw. Tonks & Tonks became Tonks & Son when Neville joined the family business as a tailor, settling down with Ginny in the upstairs apartment of the Black family home. They proudly employ an all-werewolf staff and shut down for three days out of the month, which makes them exclusive and very desireable as clothiers.

Draco Black, having discovered a flair for writing, eventually becomes a scholar and novelist like his hero Graveworthy, and divides his time between a flat in India and a townhouse in London where he makes sure things run smoothly for his wife, Minister for Magic Padma Patil, who always wears the latest Tonks & Son fashions. She recently signed legislation giving new legal status to the Union of Independent House-Elves, of which Dobby is the president.

Harry Potter and Oliver Wood go on to a life filled with excitement as they captain two separate Quidditch teams, and have made a pact never to talk about the games at home.

Apparently JKR has said that Remus and Tonks had to die so that their child could grow up a, well, I guess a HAPPY ORPHAN, to show that in the world Harry made in canon, someone got a better life than Harry did as a kid. That's...kind of a dumb reason for two of my favourite characters to die. Which is why in Laocoon's Children, Harry and Oliver adopt a child, A HAPPY ORPHAN IF YOU WILL, and given the great brotherhood of their parents this child grows up best friends with the Longbottom-Weasley brood.

I think I would have set this epilogue in the Valley House where Remus and Sirius live, a family reunion crowded with people: Sirius the amiable paterfamilias holding court with Ted and Andi, who are enjoying the retired life; a couple of werewolves from the shop playing cards with Severus and Dora; stroppy young Theo sulking about how embarrassing family reunions are until Harry plonks down his son in Theo's lap and makes him babysit, since even Theo can't resist making faces at a toddler. Padma would be in the kitchen arguing politics with Ginny while Draco and Oliver help Remus cook dinner. Harry would be blissfully in the middle of it all, tasting everything and stealing kisses from Oliver and laughing at Longbottom's kids getting underfoot.

And outside, maybe, Ellis and Dumbledore could have a pint together as they watch the sun set over Creadonagh Valley.

I think that's rather a nice epilogue, don't you?