Archive of Our Own

Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts had been awful, with four years before that already being pretty bad too, and he was tired of it.

He sat in silence with his face pressed against the cool glass of the window, staring off into the distance for the entire duration of the train journey back to London from Hogsmeade station.

An awful woman refusing to teach anything useful, being looked upon by his peers to teach them instead, despite all of the nasty things they'd said about him in the years past, their gawking and judging, and he'd had to ignore it all and put it behind him, when he really didn't want to, all of which was followed up by Voldemort luring him to the Department of Mysteries which ended in Sirius' death and the injuries of his friends.

The five of them were sat in the same compartment as he was, joking and laughing as though he hadn't caused them to be in a life-threatening situation.

They didn't blame him, and he couldn't understand why.

He was so tired, and all he wanted to do was take a break from it all, he was fifteen, sixteen in less than two months, it would be so nice to just get out there and see the world before he had to put his life on the line again.

Harry blinked.

What was stopping him from doing exactly that? He had money and magic after all.

Family Magic

Once the train pulled to a stop, Harry dodged his friends and people he knew were from the Order of the Phoenix, people he knew would push him to return to his relatives, instead he let Hedwig out of her cage, making sure she flew out of the building, and slipped into the bathroom, pulling his necessities out of his trunk, his wallet, vault key, photo album, and wand all went into a pocket, while he threw his invisibility cloak over himself and closed his trunk, quickly slipping out of the bathroom when he saw the door open.

He'd gotten out just in time, as he saw the same Order members walk over to them, likely to get him to hurry up.

He knew that taking his trunk with him would just slow him down and make it easier for them to catch him, he also knew they would have to grab his items before they could search for him, and so he took the opportunity to slip out of the train station and make his way to Diagon Alley.

The streets were busy, and he moved with the flow of the people, carefully making sure he didn't run into anyone, and made it to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron with just a few hours of daylight remaining.

There were four things that Harry decided he needed from the Magical districts, a backpack that he could carry as much stuff as needed, money in various currencies, a way to disguise himself, or at least his most recognisable parts, temporarily for now, and false documents.

There was no way in hell he was going to be travelling as Harry Potter, so he'd need a Passport with a false name, which would also require things such as a Birth Certificate, National Insurance Number, NHS Number, fun things like that, just in case someone decided to dig deeper on his existence.

Harry took a deep breath and walked into the pub behind an older man, and quickly made his way to the entrance to Diagon Alley, tapping the brick wall with his wand and slipping inside once it was open.

As he walked through the street, he made note of a luggage shop that appeared to sell bags, suitcases, briefcases, trunks, and other similar items, a quick glance at one of the bags in the window and the prices made him realise he'd have to make at least two trips to Gringotts, one to get the money for a bag, another to get the rest of the money for his trip, as he didn't think his wallet would hold enough money, and something in him told him that it would be a good idea to take all of his money out, that something would happen in the future that would mean he'd lose access to it.

Another shop he spotted sold cosmetic charms and potions, things similar to hair dye and colour contacts but with the added effect of being permanent until manually removed, the shop also somewhat surprisingly sold Muggle style makeup, including concealer.

There was also an Optometrist, and Harry decided to add that to his growing list of places to visit before getting out of the Magical World before he arrived at Gringotts.

He made sure to take off his cloak before entering the building, quickly making his way over to a free teller and passing his key over.

He was waved over to one of the cart operating Goblins who took him down, and he hummed as the vault was opened, grabbing as much gold as he could before his wallet was full, which gave him around five thousand Galleons.

His parents had been well off, he knew that but he also knew that the amount wasn't unlimited, there had been no financial gain in at least fourteen years, and the vault had been slowly losing money due to his spending it on school equipment and the like, and it was about to take a rather large hit from his trip, especially from the false documents as they most definitely wouldn't be cheap.

Harry planned to enjoy himself for as long as he could, and when he was done, he'd worry about making money to cover what he'd spent.

Once they were back up at the surface, Harry made his way out of the building, keeping his head down as he rushed over to the cosmetic shop he'd seen, grabbing some concealer, a hair dye potion, and an eye colouring potion quickly paying the bored-looking woman before she took notice of who he was, and throwing his invisibility cloak over himself once he was out of the shop.

He hurried down to the Leaky Cauldron, which was the only place he knew had a bathroom in Diagon Alley, and slipped inside, locking the door and pulling his cloak off once more.

He pulled out the concealer and looked in the mirror, squeezing out a small amount onto his finger and carefully spreading it across his scar, making sure to blend the colour so it matched his skin and didn't look strange.

Once it looked natural, he closed the tube and slipped it into his pocket, then pulled out the hair dying potion, he'd picked out a white colour, and downed it, grimacing at the taste, he waited the thirty minutes that the lady had told him to, before pulling out the one for his eyes, this one a violet in colour, and downed that as well.

Without his scar, and with white hair and violet eyes, he looked like a completely different person, which was perfect, grinning, he shoved the empty potion bottles into his pocket, along with his invisibility cloak, unlocked the door, and cheerfully walked out of the bathroom.

No one gave him a second look as he made his way back into the alleyway, no one called out 'Harry Potter', no one tried judging him for existing, it was refreshing.

He quickly made his way to the luggage shop, spotting a black leather bag in the style of a muggle backpack with plenty of expanded room inside and a charm to make it remain light in weight no matter what was put in it.

He made his purchase, and wandered back to Gringotts, grinning at the teller, and later the cart Goblin as they rolled their eyes, seeing that he'd come back.

Once at his vault, he made his way inside and began shovelling the money into his new bag, gaining a confused look from the Goblin who'd escorted him down when it became obvious that he was emptying it, but ultimately didn't say anything, escorting him back to the surface in silence when he was done.

Harry grinned as he confidently strode out of the building and down the street, walking straight up to the optometrist, a quick half-hour stop there, and he left after downing a potion feeling somewhat bitter.

Why had no one told him that there was a potion available to heal his eyes? That he didn't truly have to wear glasses if he didn't want to.

Sighing, he stalked down the road, turning off into Knockturn Alley, after all, where else would he find somewhere to forge himself a new identity?

And he was right, none of the shops were very subtle in what they offered, having posters up in their windows showing their available goods.

Harry Potter entered one of those shops, and two hours later, Harold Starr left it.

Family Magic

Harry had never been more relaxed in his life, drifting from country to country, exploring new places, trying new foods, and just generally enjoying himself.

Days turned into months, and soon September was just around the corner, and Harry decided to just... not go back to Hogwarts, at least not for that year, he had his OWLs after all, and thus wasn't legally required to return to his schooling, and so, while all of his friends and peers boarded the Hogwarts Express on September 1st, Harry wandered around the German Magical District.

A small bookshop caught his eye, shrugging, he decided to check it out.

A bell chimed above his head as he wandered into it, and he started to look at all of the different books available, frowning slightly when he realised that they were all blank.

He searched a few nearby shelves, and finally caught sight of a single book with writing on it, walking over to it, he grabbed it and pulled it out, frowning down at the title on the cover.

The Mortis Family Grimoire.

"Ah, you've found one that's written then?" it took him a moment to understand what the cashier had told him, as the translation charm he was using did its job before he turned to face the young man.

"I did," he agreed, "what does it mean?"

The man blinked, before he grinned, "it's a family grimoire, the only people who can read them are part of that family's magic, whether they know it or not," he grinned at Harry, "don't tell anyone the name on that book, there's a pretty nasty climate for these things at the moment," he informed him, "if you want to know more about your family, there's a lady two shops that way," he pointed to the left of the shop door, "she does tests, they show up to your grandparents on all sides of the family, plus any prominent families they belong to."

Harry hummed, before walking up to the counter and setting the book on top of it, swinging his backpack off of his back to grab some money.

"How much?"

"Twenty Gold," he informed him, "we not only keep the books in our shop but make sure it's preserved throughout however long it's kept here," he explained to him, as Harry counted out the Gold requested, which had been converted from Galleons as soon as he'd gotten to Europe, apparently Galleons were only used in Britain, since nowhere else trusted the Goblins with their economies.

After the gold was placed on the counter, the man passed him a written receipt, and Harry placed both it and his new book into his bag.

"Thank you," he spoke, walking back out of the shop.

"You're welcome!"

The door shut with another chime and Harry looked to his left, before shrugging and making his way to the shop the man had informed him about, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious now since he'd never heard of the Mortis family before.

The lady at the counter beamed at him as he entered the shop, "here to check your family history?" she asked.

Harry just nodded, and she beckoned him over.

"It's fifteen Gold for the test, and you'll be given a private booth to go over the results before you leave," she told him, quickly gathering a few ingredients and other items, "some people have a negative reaction to what they find on their results," she informed him, after seeing his confused look when she mentioned a private booth, "also it's a highly private affair anyway, I provide everything needed, help you perform the ritual, and then once the results are developing I'll leave."

Harry nodded and passed over the fifteen Gold she'd requested, and quickly followed her to the booth she'd pointed out.

It took half an hour to complete the ritual, and, as she'd promised, as soon as the results began developing, she left.

Ten minutes later and he had the results back.

And also, the biggest shock of his life.

His mother, as expected, was Lily Potter, formerly Lily Evans, her parents were also listed, and, as it turned out, it was Lily who was descended from the Mortis family through a squib line from what he could understand.

But that wasn't his biggest shock, oh no, his biggest shock was sitting where James Potter should be.

Instead of the man he believed was his father, an intricate-looking pattern of circles stood, above that were two more names that followed the same style, just in different places.

Harry remained at that booth, staring blankly at the paper for a solid hour, before he shook his head and slipped it into his bag, making his way to the front, he thanked the shopkeeper, and headed directly to the hotel he was staying at.

He had a lot to think about.

Family Magic

The Mortis grimoire was filled with different Necromantic rituals, spells, and potions.

Normally Harry would have thrown a book like this away or given it to the authorities, but this was different, it belonged to his family, who'd written into it, added new spells, made changes to old ones, left comments on entries long past, all over the span of countless centuries.

The last entry in the book was dated around a century prior, the person who'd last had it worrying about the future of their family, as all their children were turning out to be squibs.

Harry loved it for its character, loved how it made him feel closer to a family that would have truly wanted him.

It was as he was flicking through it for the fifth time while he was passing through Spain on a train, that he realised that one of the rituals could give him some answers.

It was to be cast on a new moon, just as the clock turned to midnight, with it he could summon up to five spirits.

A new moon was nearing, and with it, he could summon his Mum... Dad, and Sirius.

He could apologise to Sirius for getting him killed and get the answers he needed about his... Dad situation.

Looking at the page, he realised that he had all of the needed items, apart from moon purified chalk, which he could easily grab in the next Magical town, then all he'd need to do is find somewhere he could perform the ritual in peace on the new moon.

Looking out of the window, he watched the scenery fly by and frowned.

Would he really do this?

Family Magic

The answer was, of course, yes.

Harry finished his chanting, stood at the edge of a white circle with runes carefully written around the inside edge, the clearing in the middle of the woods in the middle of absolutely nowhere in Europe kept him safe from prying eyes.

Light filled his vision for a moment, before dying down, leaving three ghostly figures standing in the middle of the circle.

Harry smiled at them but didn't dare to walk towards them, knowing that breaking the circle would send them off.

"Harry," the only woman in the group, his mother greeted him.

The man next to her grinned at him and waved, and next to him stood Sirius.

Sighing, he flopped down to the ground and sat cross-legged, watching as the three ghosts did the same.

"You have... questions," James finally spoke after some time had passed where they just took in the sight of each other.

Harry frowned, but nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling the test out, showing it to them.

He heard his mother sigh, "we didn't want you to find out like this, Harry, we very much wanted to be able to sit you down to talk about it, and had hoped that somebody," she smacked Sirius on the arm, ignoring his whine, "would have told you where we couldn't."

"I hope you don't think Lily was unfaithful or anything," James spoke up, "we were young and only just out of Hogwarts, teenagers who'd just finished schooling, leaving everything we'd known for seven years behind to enter the adult world where we didn't know what to do."

Harry hummed as he listened to him speak.

"It was actually me who suggested we take a break," he told him, "I was struggling to figure out what I wanted to do, this was before we joined Albus Dumbledore's fight against Voldemort," he pointed out quickly, "I was just some dumb teenager who'd only really messed around for seven years, only just realising that I'd have to grow up, and quickly."

"I agreed to the break," Lily cut in, "I wanted to work on getting my GCSEs and possibly taking a Muggle college course, possibly even University later, I didn't want to forget my roots in the Muggle world, after all, and so we separated, with the agreement that after a few years, if we were still interested in a relationship with one another, then we'd try it out," she hummed, "we kept in contact throughout the years too, maintaining a friendship."

"So, I was..." Harry trailed off, unable to finish his question.

"You were conceived around the end of this break," Lily admitted, "I'd gone out drinking with a Muggle friend I'd made, had a bit too many, next thing I remember I'm waking up in a room I don't recognise, first thought I had was to leave, and I did."

Harry frowned.

"She didn't know she was pregnant when we got back together," James told him, "when she found out, she was panicking, a lot, worried that I'd reject her," he grinned down at him then, "I told her not to worry about it," the grin slipped off his face at that moment, "I don't know if anyone told you this, but I was a very late child, my parents had been trying for decades to have me, but had been unable to conceive, I was worried that it would be a problem for me too, so I was happy to have you, even if you weren't biologically mine."

Harry swallowed, as tears pooled in his eyes.

"As soon as I could, I married Lily, and once you were born, I legally adopted you, you are my son, even if not by blood," the man told him, "and I wouldn't blame you if you decided to seek out your biological father."

Lily smiled at him from where she sat, "we love you, Harry, don't ever forget that."

Harry wiped his eyes and nodded, before turning to face Sirius, "I'm sorry," he muttered.

The man blinked, "what for?"

"If it weren't for me, you'd still be alive."

Sirius frowned, "Harry, you're just a teenager, you had no idea that it was a trap, and from what I heard you did try to contact us to see if I had actually left Grimmauld Place, I went to try and protect you, and I'll admit, I got very carried away," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "the thrill of a fight after being locked up for so long was fantastic, and I let it get to me, and because of that I was hit by my cousin, and that's what got me killed, not you."

Harry frowned, and the four of them sat there in silence for a bit longer, before Sirius piped up again.

"Where the hell did you learn Necromancy from, Pup?"

Harry blinked, before pulling out the Mortis grimoire.

"Apparently Mum's from a squib line of the Mortis family, this is the grimoire."

Lily, Sirius, and James all stared at the book with wide eyes.

"I thought the Mortis family had died out," Sirius finally squeaked out.

"So did I," muttered James.

Family Magic

Harry was aware that he was dreaming, or more accurately, wasn't awake, he sat on an armchair floating in the middle of nothingness.

Eventually, another person joined him, on an armchair floating opposite him.

"Hello, Harry," it spoke.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what the being opposite him was.

"Death," he greeted.

They sat in silence for a while, before Death spoke once again.

"There are things that I wish to share with you."

Harry gestured for it to continue, which it did.

"Fate... has been screwing myself, Magic, and Time over for a long time, taking our favoured and messing with them specifically to annoy us... One day Magic and Time came to me with a request... Fate had just made a prophecy, one which involved you..."

Harry scowled at the reminder of it.

"The issue is, you were always favoured by me, meant to become more... Fate did not talk to me about meddling with your life..."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that admittance, confused as to what the entity meant, but unwilling to interrupt.

"This prophecy about you also messed with Magic's people and caused the deaths of many of those gifted by her... At the same time, Fate has been messing with Time's children, almost causing the complete genocide of them... Both Magic and Time saw a very interesting event and came to me... Your mother had become... intimate..."

Harry scrunched his face up in disgust at the thought, he really didn't want to know about his Mum's intimacies.

"With one of Time's children, while they are typically infertile, Magic was willing to intervene, to lend a helping hand, and Time was very open to the idea of a new child capable of, ah, understanding Time, being created... But both agreed to talk to me first... When I agreed, I went back and made sure that your mother was from a squib line of a family deeply connected with me... Originally your connection to me came from your father, who would have been James Potter... But with the change, I required something else..."

He frowned and opened his mouth to ask a question when the entity chuckled.

"Your connection to me is simple, you will one day become my Master... Although now Time also has a claim upon you, although theirs are simple... They merely wish for you to look... Look upon Time and understand..."

Once Death had finished speaking, another entity appeared, and before Harry could say anything, a crack appeared, and he saw.

Everything.

Family Magic

Waking up knowing the time and also the exact rotation of the Earth beneath him was extremely jarring.

Sighing, he got out of bed and dug through his bag, finding a set of clean clothes, clothes that actually fit him and in a style that he enjoyed too, and wandered into the bathroom.

A quick shower later, and he was fully awake, and once dressed, he looked into the mirror.

He wore slightly torn black jeans with a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket on top, with a pair of black leather boots that went up to the middle of his shins, the hair dye and eye colouring potions had held up perfectly, and Harry had been informed that he looked like a 'punk rocker', which he'd decided to take as a compliment.

Sighing, he quickly applied his concealer, and washed his hands, then wandered back into his room, stopping by the open window to pet Hedwig for a moment, before gathering his stuff as she flew off to hunt.

There was another ritual in his grimoire that he wanted to try out, and if it worked then he wouldn't have to worry about Hedwig dying in his lifetime, if it didn't work there were no consequences, which was what led him to the decision to try it.

He didn't know what he'd do without her, after all.

Family Magic

Hermione frowned as she, Professor Lupin, Professor Dumbledore, Tonks, and another man, the Doctor, if Professor Dumbledore was to be believed, walked into a café in Austria.

It was a nice little place, decorated with calming colours, and was mostly filled with teenagers who'd decided to go backpacking.

"Harold Starr," the teenager who was working called out, and they watched as a boy with white hair walked up to the counter and grabbed his order, before walking over to a window seat.

The small group quickly made an order and found a table once their food had been handed over to them, the five of them looking around at the different people in the café.

Some of them were working on papers, others were talking, or reading, and a few, such as the boy with white hair, were looking out of the windows.

There was something about that boy that was familiar, but she couldn't tell what.

The small group had come to Austria since there were rumours that Death Eaters were attempting to recruit from the country, Hermione hadn't actually been with them, but with her parents on holiday, when she'd bumped into them, she'd been a bit too drawn into their conversation, and as her parents recognised Professor Dumbledore as her headmaster, had let her remain with them, with the promise of returning to their hotel later that day.

They'd just finished eating when a loud explosion was heard, followed by many people in black robes and white masks appearing.

Frowning, Hermione stood along with the rest of her group, but they were beaten to the door by the white-haired boy, who groaned.

"Fucking morons, don't know when to piss off," she heard the boy mutter and gaped at him.

"Language!"

The boy turned to face her, and she took in his unnaturally violet eyes on a face that seemed far too familiar for comfort when it clicked.

The boy behind the counter had called for Harold Starr, which he'd responded to.

Harry was a nickname of Harold...

Her eyes flicked to his forehead, and she frowned when she realised that there was no scar.

"What a strange coincidence," she muttered.

The boy huffed and gently nudged her out of the way, "sorry miss, I don't have time for this," he spoke and exited the building.

Instead of running off as she'd expected, the boy pulled out a wand and began to fight back, his spells growing progressively darker by British standards.

Eventually, the boy cast a spell she'd never heard of, and the ground began to shake.

The scene that followed was like a horror film, as skeletons of all shapes and sizes pulled themselves up from beneath the ground, hands smashing through concrete.

And despite the fear and screaming of the civilians around them, they only went after the Death Eaters.

The Death Eaters, seeing the horrors unleashed upon them, fled in fear, and the boy tutted.

"Cowards."

Another spell carelessly cast by the boy had the skeletons returning to the ground, the concrete filling itself back in, once everything had returned to normal, he cast another spell then disapparated.

When the local Aurors arrived, they all realised they were unable to speak of Harold Starr and his skeleton army.

Not even the Doctor, to his surprise.

Family Magic

"England," Harry muttered, scratching Hedwig behind her wing, where she was perched on his arm.

The ritual had gone perfectly, and she'd changed slightly from it, her feathers appearing slightly sharper and more ruffled, despite being perfectly groomed, and her feathers gained more black in them, giving her the visage of a star-filled night sky instead of the traditional snowy owl, her talons and beak became sharper to match, giving her a more wild look, and he thought she was perfect, not that he hadn't thought so before.

Harry looked around at the city centre, before walking in the direction he remembered Diagon Alley to be in, dropping his arm to his side once Hedwig took off.

He was quickly intercepted by a man he vaguely recognised from a Death Eater attack a few months ago.

"You need to come with me," he spoke, seeming tense.

He looked at the man and did a double-take as he realised just what the man was exactly.

Harry had learnt many things since the night Death had informed him about his being one of 'Time's Children', which he'd later learnt were called 'Time Lords', including the fact that he was still very much a child to them.

Once Time had shown him the fracture, his ageing had come to almost a complete halt, which was apparently normal for them, but had taken him by surprise, he was just glad that he'd gotten to an age where he could do a good amount of things without being treated like a small child before his ageing had been put on halt.

Another thing he'd learnt about was regeneration, something which Death had helpfully informed him that since he was going to be immortal in the future, apparently, would be unlimited, and come in handy for when he'd looked like one person for long enough that people were becoming suspicious.

Harry tilted his head slightly as he looked at the man, before grinning and happily walking up to him, "okay."

He gaped at him, "just like that?"

"Just like that," he agreed.

The man apparently didn't know what to say, and instead just held his hand out, Harry grabbed it and felt the tell-tale sign of a Portkey being set off.

They landed in the Burrow, and Harry wanted to laugh.

"Are you aware that your hands are cold? That's a sign of poor blood circulation in humans," the man informed him as he let go of his hand, and Harry wanted to laugh more.

"I'm aware," he said, grinning, "what's your name, anyway? I can't keep calling you 'the Man' in my head, you know?"

He blinked, "oh! I'm the Doctor."

"Harold Starr," he greeted, "better known in England as Harry Potter."

"I knew it!" he heard Hermione call out from behind him, apparently the rest of the Order of the Phoenix had assembled while he'd been getting the Doctor's name.

Harry turned around and threw her a cheeky grin as she looked up to his forehead in confusion.

"But your scar?"

Bringing the bottom of his t-shirt up to his forehead, he began wiping, not caring about the concealer staining his t-shirt, and exposing his scar.

"You... I..." she threw her hands up in the air and turned around, "you are impossible!"

He saw Dumbledore in the doorway, staring at him with a frown, turning to face him, he raised an eyebrow.

"Necromancy, Mr Potter?" he asked, disappointment colouring his voice.

Harry just rolled his eyes, "it's family magic, sir, besides, it's not like I'm just calling upon it every five seconds for a power trip."

"Family magic? The Potters aren't Necromancers," he heard someone speak up, but couldn't work out who in the sea of people it was.

Harry shrugged, "not the Potters, apparently Mum came from a squib line of the Mortis family," he ignored the shocked gasps that he could hear, "besides, James wasn't my biological father, despite his adoption, I couldn't access the Potter family magic if I tried."

"Impossible," Snape sneered, and Harry had to roll his eyes, "you look just like that man, act like him too, think you're so high and mighty."

"Ah yes, because everyone with messy black hair wearing glasses looks like James Potter," he snapped back, "and here I stand with dyed hair and coloured eyes, put a photo of James next to me and try to spot any similarities now," he huffed, "I took a familial test while in Germany, there's no faking those things, even summoned Mum and Dad, they confirmed it," he informed them, ignoring the comment about his personality as he'd heard it practically every day while at Hogwarts.

"What happened to your glasses, mate?" he heard Ron ask, and he blinked in surprise, not having realised he was there.

"Turns out my eyes were very much fixable, I went to that little optometrist in Diagon Alley, they took a test and gave me a potion and my eyes were fine."

There was silence as everyone processed this, and Harry rolled his eyes and turned to face the Doctor.

He was watching them all, an awkward look on his face as he sat next to the fireplace, a cup of tea in hand, he looked out of place in his suit, but then again, so did Harry.

He walked over and sat on the arm of the sofa next to him, "so, how did you get caught up with this lot?"

"Owed Albus a favour," he said, before muttering, "that man can't forget a single thing."

Chuckling, he pulled out a pack of cards and began shuffling them, he looked over at the assembled humans who'd begun arguing amongst themselves and sighed, before looking back at the Doctor, who'd taken a sip of his tea.

Well, there was one other thing that Death had mentioned.

Grinning he looked at the man, "did you know that you're technically my step-dad?"

Harry watched as he choked on the drink, spitting it out and coughing, as he stared at him with wide eyes and a sudden look of panicked understanding.

Harry stood up and walked away from him, laughing as he went.

"Hey, wait, you can't just drop something like that on me!"

Turning around to face him with a cheeky grin, he spoke, grabbing the attention of the other people, "I can, and I did."

"But I-" he sputtered at a loss for words.

"Do you prefer 'Papa' or 'Père'?" he questioned, "I'm afraid 'Dad' is taken by James Potter."

With those parting words, Harry darted out of the room, laughing as he went.

"What the hell did he mean by that?" Ron demanded, facing the Doctor.

The Doctor stared at the door in shock.

"Apparently the Master has a son," he muttered, before what the boy had said finally sunk in, "oh Rassilon, the Master has a son."

The only response he got was more laughter.