9

Chapter 9: End of Book 1

The headmaster had been called to the Ministry for some conference concerning the Boy-Who-Lived. It seemed the Ministry was swamped with letters about Harry Potter: where he was, why he was, who he was.

Initially, Dumbledore had taken responsibility for the child and placed him under his Aunt and Uncle's care, but as soon as his disappearance came to light, Albus had to let the Minister in on a little secret...the Daily Prophet was more than happy to resume printing nonsense about the Boy-Who-Lived, whether it be Harry or Neville, and did so amiably, with approximately 278 newspapers within the year on him! It seemed that the team (shaky alliance) of Fudge and Dumbledore had hoodwinked the magical community, but not for long! Fudge couldn't possibly put up with this much unrest in his Magical world! He demanded Albus do something, and quick, summoning the headmaster as soon as possible- meaning right after the final exams.

Consequently, that left Minerva and Severus in charge of the school. The two teachers were currently locked in their respective offices, grading one of the millions of the exams. Severus had just ladened Raven with the two Muted Sights potions, and was due back any minute so that he could give the tiny black owl the vial of Animagus Solution.

"The potion is stirred thrice to ensure the separation of substances, not to create a mixture!" Snape growled to himself as he marked up yet another abysmal essay with a red pen. He did enjoy these muggle contraptions, especially when they saved him time. This way, he didn't need to worry about dripping ink onto his precious students' words. Severus continued to mutter the corrections to himself, as well as some dry insults, before a furious pounding began at his door.

What in Merlin's name? Who dared knock on the feared Potion Professor's door? Let alone that obnoxiously!

He flicked his wand and two of the least likely people he ever expected to see, stared back at him in clear distress.

"Draco-!" Severus shouted, knowing immediately that something was very wrong.

"Professor! It's Hasan and Neville! They said to get you if they didn't return in ten minutes! It's been fifteen!..." Hermione continued to rattle frantically on as Draco pleaded with his godfather to come.

Suddenly everything clicked into place: Hasan and those three had gone after the stone. Something must have happened, Quirrell must have made his move! He flicked the essays protected from theft and altercation before urging the two children out and running past them to the third floor corridor.

Oh shit! He couldn't be late! Dumbledore would kill him if something happened to his golden farce! That was...if Snape didn't kill him first for conveniently being out of the building!

Hermione and Draco let him continue forward as they slumped against opposite walls and slowly began to fall asleep...

Severus was panting. Fluffy, plant, keys, chess, troll, potions, well damn. He summoned the potion from within his robe (he always wanted to be prepared) and downed it quickly as his blood turned to ice. He felt the flames lick around him harmlessly, as he ran through to the chamber. Snape had known the mirror was going to be used from the beginning. He did admit to being ignorant of the rest of the staff's chambers and obstacles, though they were all predictable and somewhat obvious to match, but Dumbledore had been particularly clear that the mirror of Erised would be in use. It was quite another thing to find it here, highlighted in the chamber's darkness, with the most terrifying of scenes playing out before him. Neville was on the ground, seemingly unconscious, as none other than Hasan Castell was clawing fiercely at the neck of...Voldemort.

The Dark Lord screeched, awful and terrible, as a black fog was ripped from Quirrell's abused body. Quirrell lay motionless on the ground as the black mist disappeared, moaning in agony with his hands covering his furiously blistered face. Then suddenly, the man went very still, no longer to be able to exist without Voldemort. But Severus paid this no attention.

He was captivated.

Brilliant emerald green eyes flashed sharply on Hasan's wary face. Not jade. Not blank. But beautiful, beautiful emerald. Like Lily's eyes, and yet so different. They locked onto him, triumphant, beaming, heartbroken, embarrassed, proud, thankful, angry, disbelief, joy, relief,...and then they were shut. His eyelashes fluttered delicately on alabaster skin as his body shut down from magical strain. Severus was quick to cast a cushioning charm as his head hit the floor, and then conjured two stretchers for both boys. He levitated Neville onto his, but scooped Hasan into his arms, wondering 'How.'

How was it that for just one moment, a trick of the light perhaps, those dead eyes had sparked with more emotions that Snape thought possible? How was it that they were the exact shade as the killing curse?

Why had he seen them? Had he seen them?

Severus levitated the stretchers to follow behind him as he ascended the chamber steps. He passed out the way he came, and gently roused Draco and Miss Granger to follow him to the Infirmary.

They had been sleepy, but their excitement and agitation had returned once their eyes laid on the stretchers. Draco went to Hasan first, an unfathomable expression on his face, as Hermione likewise went to see her housemate.

The three walked in silence to Poppy's Hospital Wing, and the two boys remained as unconscious as ever.

At the wards alerting her that someone had just entered, Poppy got up tiredly, exited her office, and shouted, "What is- Oh my! Severus, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

To be perfectly honest, Severus himself was unsure...

.oOo.

Albus had returned exactly three hours later, and then had remained in his office until he was alerted of the boys' return to consciousness, which was three days later. He wasn't so concerned about Hasan as he was Neville, in fact, he didn't even ask about the other's health progress. Yes, he knew Hasan Castell's name. How could he not when the boy had been praised nonstop by McGonagall?

"Oh, Neville!" Albus cried, striding authoritatively into the hospital wing. He wore sweeping magenta robes and his long grey beard was tied near the bottom with a pink ribbon. "I've been so worried about you! How did you know to go after him? How are you feeling? Voldemort has fled a second time! How did you defeat him?"

Albus invited himself down in the white chair beside Neville's bed, peering proudly at his golden boy. Severus and Minerva followed behind, consciously hiding their disgust behind their naturally stern features. Hermione and Neville had already returned to their dormitories and had been in to check on the two unconscious boys earlier. Now however, they were packing and trying to fend off curious students who had somehow heard that they were involved. Apparently the ghosts and portraits had been busy spreading around the gossip, and by the third day nearly everyone knew that the Voldemort-Quirrell hybrid had tried to steal the philosopher's stone.

Severus' lip curled up in dry amusement as he took in Neville's bewildered and uncomfortable appearance when he tried to scoot away from the headmaster, but didn't have the courage to offend him. Severus tore his eyes away and strode discreetly over to Hasan who appeared to be asleep, but Snape's practiced eye told him otherwise.

"I know you're awake." Severus murmured, looming ominously over the bed.

Hasan bit his lip, in an endearing way (Snape was reluctant to admit,) before cracking open his pale jade eyes. Something in Snape's heart fell then. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but...surely not emerald. That would have been ludicrous...

"Hello, Professor Snape." Hasan said presently, his mouth barely moving as the words floated.

"Hello, Hasan." Severus whispered. "I'd like to ask you a few questions." In actuality, Severus wanted to strangle the little urchin and demand what the hell had spurred him to do something like that, but Albus was within earshot and would most definitely not miss the manhandling of a student.

"Are you-?" Hasan asked lightly. Snape mentally tacked on a '-going to' to the sentence.

"Yes. What happened?" Severus demanded as gently as he could.

Hasan tilted his head, "I believe in quid pro quo...could you be a bit more specific?"

Severus fought hard not to bang his head against a nearby wall. He could very easily demand that the miserable boy answer him because he was his teacher, but Severus was a Slytherin and knew that the best answers came from willing (or drugged) interrogation subjects.

"Alright, Mr. Castell." Severus sighed heavily, "What would you like to know?"

"Is that your question?" Hasan wondered.

Oh, Salazar! Severus moaned inwardly.

"No, my first question is: Who was really on the back of Quirrell's head?"

"Hm, well I suppose it doesn't matter anyway since my question and your question cancelled out..."

"What are you babbling about?" Snape asked sharply.

"Even numbers, Professor! Whether the first two questions counted or not shouldn't matter because it would have still just been your turn."

"-Just answer the question!" Snape snapped.

"The Dark Lord." Hasan answered simply with a shrug.

Snape hesitated. (He didn't even register the use of His name because he was so worried about the confirmation.)

"Did he...talk to you?"

Snape knew that the Dark Lord was a seducer and worried genuinely for Hasan's young (and therefore impressionable) mind. Men greater than him had fallen, and Snape knew firsthand how tempting the Dark Lord's offers could be. Yeah, just a lifetime of pain and servitude...

"That's two questions. My turn!" Hasan protested with a slight smile. Severus sighed and nodded. "After we take the Animagus Potion, is there anything else we need to do to complete the transformation?"

Did the boy not know how to stay on topic?

"Practice. And make sure you take them in a large and open space." Severus instructed seriously. "How did you receive the stone?"

"Neville threw it." Severus arched an eyebrow, and Hasan smiled sheepishly, "I am unsure...but I believe that the mirror gave Neville the stone. He was fidgeting violently but something in the mirror made him freeze. The Dark Lord lunged at him...I caught it."

Hm, that was fascinating. Not the stone so much- he knew it must have been either one of the boys- but that a simple physical indication made the Castell heir elaborate. Hm, he'd have to try it again!

Hasan cleared his throat. "Is the Dark Lord back?"

Snape twisted his lips, "Yes."

"Oh." Poor Neville...well, if they had to go through that a few more times it wouldn't be so bad. Just...unbearably troublesome.

"Indeed. Who is your mother?"

Hasan blinked at the curveball. Severus smirked: he wasn't the only one that could stray off topic.

Hasan frowned at his hands twisting in the infirmary sheets. Should he trust Professor Snape?...he thought quickly for a second: if he said Lily Potter, then his identity would not be hard to find. Then again, if he said Lily Potter, he might think, oh Merlin, that Altair and Lily (shudder)...he didn't know why the thought was so repulsive, but it just was. The last option was to say he didn't know and that he was adopted...but would this give Snape the clues he needed to piece together Harry Potter and Hasan Castell? The adoption? The orphanage? The disappearance?

"I am unsure...I am adopted." said Hasan slowly. Snape arched his eyebrow again, hoping for an elaboration, and Hasan recognized how one could be manipulated by body language... But there really wasn't much else he could say! "Altair didn't...have me." Hasan finished lamely. "But I am his...son."

"Why hesitate?" Snape prodded.

Hasan smiled softly. "Not your turn, Professor. What do you see in the mirror of Erised?"

Severus' breath hitched in his throat.

"I've got all the information I need." Hasan smiled with a tilt of his head.

Oh, so that's how he wanted to play. This was Hasan's way of warning 'too close,' that he could very well back out now if Severus didn't tread very softly.

"Very well, Mr. Castell...Hasan." Severus whispered as he got up. "Make sure you do not forget Raven."

Hasan beamed with an eager nod, and the two simultaneously turned their attention to Neville.

"-foolish! Are you alright?" Minerva was fretting over the bed.

"Yes, Professor." Neville said uneasily, glancing over at the many gifts left at his bed with a look of disgust and horror.

"Well good." Minerva locked Albus in a stern gaze. "I hope this doesn't become a regular occurrence."

With that, she glanced at Snape, and the two departed. Albus winked at Neville, gave a cursory wave to Hasan and exited the room.

"Hasan?" Neville wondered aloud when the footsteps had ebbed away. "Did you see the Daily Prophet yet?" (Hasan shook his head.) "We're in deep trouble," Neville groaned, holding up the paper. "Dumbledore released part of the prophecy and..., well, I'll just read it: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. We don't need hope, we need Harry Potter! It's him the prophecy's referring to!" Neville said in a panic. He ripped the newspaper down the middle and started brushing back his hair.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Hasan said apathetically, though he was already thinking of the prophecy and where he could hear the rest.

Neville sighed. "Dumbledore also sent the invisibility cloak; he told me...It belonged to James Potter. I feel disgusting! L-like I stole! Harry doesn't have anything from his parents and here I am-!" Neville choked weakly.

"Neville, listen to me. Maybe Harry doesn't want the cloak because he doesn't remember his parents. I wouldn't waste emotion over it."

There was a long pause before Neville said,-

"I envy you, Hasan."

.oOo.

The students had piled into the Hogwarts Express with their familiars, trunks, and homework. Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Lavender made up one compartment, while Hasan, Draco, Tracey, Daphne, and Theo made up the other. Neville had no problem, however, flitting from one to the other under the pretense of bathroom breaks. Despite being unconscious nearly days before, Neville and his Gran has somehow managed to whip up a birthday party for the end of July. Neville ran around telling his friends all the details, and promised to owl people later with invitations and portkeys if needed. All of the Weasley's still in school, including Ginevra (Ron's little sister), were invited, as was some other friend of Neville's that was yet to come to school. Even some of the Slytherins were invited such as Theo and Tracey, so that Draco wouldn't be too bored. Really, Neville's Gran just wanted to forge connections. Her grandson was the Boy-Who-Lived! She was just so proud!

The train groaned to a slow stop at King's Cross Station at approximately two in the afternoon. Hasan's wizard's robes had again reverted to his usual black, gray, and white attire, with his brunette hair in a Dutch crown braid falling elegantly down his back. Daphne had simply raved about his hair for a good ten minutes, and Tracey attended to Draco's own ego by making comments about his grey eyes.

Hasan and Draco hopped off the train together, and were immediately greeted by a beautiful blonde-haired witch. From the front, Hasan could admire her regal visage, graceful sky blue eyes and thin pink lips that pulled back to reveal stunning white teeth.

"Hello, mother!" Draco drawled sweetly as she scooped him up in a tight embrace.

"Oh, Dragon! I've heard such things through the Ministry! They say you and your companions saw the Dark Lord!"

"They're just rumors, mother!" Draco said trying to disentangle himself from her arms. Draco was actually not so sure what had happened in the last and final chamber. Neville wouldn't speak and Hasan would only tell him that Quirrell was an idiot. The rest of the school learned bits and pieces of the truth from the rumor mill, but at this point, Narcissa Malfoy probably knew more than him.

"Oh, and who is this?" Narcissa's voice turned suddenly sharp as she caught sight of Hasan. Her keen eyes took in his pleasantly blank face, dull jade eyes, and braided brunette hair and her expression melted. "Oh! You must be Mr. Castell!" Narcissa gushed, releasing Draco to hug this other boy. Hasan stiffened into the hug, not entirely understanding what was going on. He supposed it had something to do with the dagger he held in his sleeve, or perhaps it was because her eyes had widened when she registered the name 'Castell'. Logically, this witch must have known Altair if Lucius did, which meant she probably was startled at the lack of semblance between them (save for the hair).

"Hello, Lady Malfoy." Hasan said, not sure if it would be offensive to choose Mrs. off the title rack. She was wizarding nobility (despite the dissolution of the nobles) and it was better to be safe than sorry!

"Narcissa is fine dear." the woman told him kindly, pulling away to study his face intently. "You're as good as family now, Hasan Castell. The dagger ties you to our family."

Well wouldn't that have been nice to place on the Christmas card! Draco's lack of detail really irritated him sometimes. Looking over Narcissa's shoulder, Hasan could see Draco turning around, looking for the Malfoy patriarch.

"Mother, where's father?"

Her stance seemed to tighten as she righted herself and met Draco's silver eyes.

"He's a little unwell."

.oOo.

That was the understatement of the century. Lucius Malfoy was more than a 'little' unwell. Currently isolated in his private chambers (he slept separately from Narcissa), he summoned Dobby to bring him some ginger snaps and apples thinly sliced, and had them placed on his large and unbelievably cluttered desk.

"Master Lucius is wanting Dobby to be bringing him anything else, sir?" the house-elf squeaked, floppy ears hanging on either side of his bowed head.

"No, leave me, dammit!" Lucius screamed, slamming his fist on the table. The cookies rattled on the plate and Dobby vanished with an odd look on his face. He hadn't been punished, just yelled at like usual...this was so odd. Master must really be sick...

Back in the bedchamber, Lucius was running his hands through his thin blonde hair, sighing out pitifully as he squeezed his eyes shut. He snapped them back open a minute later, fierce silver scanning the mess of letters and documents in front of him. His dragon hide boots slapped the cold marble floor sharply as he drew himself up in his chair. Letters...the ones nearest to him were from Draco, and magical copies of the ones he sent himself over the course of the year. The entire correspondence was written out in alternating red and black ink over a thick sheet of parchment, and the words popped out at him now, clearly as if someone had hammered them into his brain. He picked it up and read aloud:

"...September 2nd: Father, he's weird. I don't understand why you want me to follow him. He's boring and is friends with an awful mudblood!...but he got sorted into Slytherin...September 12th: I can't believe him! He nearly broke my shoulder! I want him expelled, father!...October 31st: Wait till you hear this, Neville Longbottom's the Boy-Who-Lived! Have you heard anything more ridicules? He was crying in the bathroom (again) and Hasan and that muggleborn Granger dragged me along to save him...November 17th: He shows absolutely no emotion! It's like he's a doll or something! But he's not that bad. He and the muggleborn study together- we make the top three of our year- and he's friends with most of the house. He's got a vocabulary to rival Snape's...December 1st: He's alright. I think I'm beginning to understand why I'm following him. He's always levelheaded and no one ever picks on him- but mostly because no one really notices him. Even Dumbledore who's constantly watching Longbottom's movements...December 2nd: Hasan's a friend...December 3rd: Hasan and Neville taught me to identify poisonous odors...December 4th: The Weasley kid's a git. I hope he gets expelled. I don't know why I put up with him, but sometimes he's with Hasan because of Hermione...December 5th: I want to get him something special for Christmas. I'm still spying, rest assured, but I want to find something unique...(Many entries pertaining to the same topic later) December 20th: Please! I'll do anything! I'll beat Hermione in every class, I promise! Just, I really want to have something of our own! He's practically a brother, why not make it official?...December 21st: I'm not an ignoramus! I know it's not adoption, but I want him to belong sentimentally...December 22nd: Please! Please! Please! I promise I won't get into any more detentions!...December 23rd: FATHER! ARE YOU GOING TO OR NOT?...December 24th: Father, I know this is a very mature decision and I'm only eleven but if you could please reconsider? Hasan's my best friend, my first true one, and he's the model Slytherin! He only speaks when needed and gives just the right words! Father! I swear he's worth it!...Thank you, father, I won't disappoint."

Lucius rested his fingers on his temple and sighed. How was it that Hasan Castell managed to turn this entire mission on him? One minute the prey, the next, family! It was worth it, he supposed, for Draco had stayed true to his word. But that was hardly what was pressing so heavily on his mind.

What his true sickness was, the stem of all his issues, was himself. He magicked Draco's letters into a drawer, before turning his attention on the next few. His marriage contract with Narcissa, Draco's birth certificate, his Hogwarts diploma,...Tom Riddle's diary. Something wasn't adding up, something wasn't right! He graduated Hogwarts in 1972, he married Narcissa in 1979, and she had given birth to Draco in 1980...what had happened in the in-between? Where were those years of his life?

Daily Prophet clippings, newspaper articles. The rise of Lord Voldemort around the year 1946, so he must have been within the ranks of Voldemort's followers then! So why was it, that from 1972 to 1979 Lucius could not recall a single thing about the Death Eaters or Voldemort for seven whole elusive years? He glanced at the diary of Tom Riddle again, and remembered clearly when the Dark Lord had gifted it to him a little over ten years ago, before his fall. But there was also a niggling, a niggling of something he had forgotten that had to do with a man named Tom Riddle and a diary he had crea-no- written. Why had he thought created? He flipped the journal open again, seeing nothing but blank pages- Salazar! He hadn't even touched the diary in ten years!

So why was it now that he felt a need to revisit it? Revisit all of it? He had a lovely wife, and an intelligent son and heir. Why disturb that? He was still in favor with the light, and in the favor of the dark, why disturb that? He had money! He had everything!

So why?

A flash of thick brown hair, beautiful blue eyes...no! He winced and banged his desk again before ripping a gingersnap in two. It was gone! It was all gone. He hadn't mentioned it to Narcissa-these, these flashes- because there was no need to worry her. He trusted no one else but...he was growing desperate. Things couldn't continue on like this. It was a perfect puzzle, and somehow, Hasan Castell, Draco's new friend was involved. Maybe not Hasan specifically, but...but another. His grandfather? No, that didn't make sense. His father?

That man in Diagon Alley with snow white hair and easy going disposition even in a state of panic. Castell. Something Castell. And he was sure of it, without a hint of a doubt, that this Castell was the one to erase his memories...

.oOo.

"Lucius?" Narcissa's sweet voice flitted into his chambers. "Lucius, darling?"

The Malfoy lord groaned and vanished the full plate of gingersnaps and apples with a wave of his wand.

"Father?" Draco's voice joined the mix, sounding suddenly so very mature. Gone was the whine of his little one, replaced by the coolness of a Slytherin's tone. Lucius glanced at his work turbulently (lovingly and yet with such loathing) and wrapped it up neatly with another wave of his wand.

"Coming, 'Cissa, Draco!" Lucius called as he descended the millions of stairs. As Draco came into view, he noticed a hint of suspicion in his eyes and his gaze lingered on the bags beneath his father's eyes. There really was no use disillusioning the symptom when the condition was palpable.

"Oh, Lucius..." Narcissa sighed and gave him a hug, "Your father's been very tired recently. It's just been so hard at the Ministry getting information from anyone these days!"

Draco glanced warily up at his father. "I regret that you couldn't meet Hasan." he said evenly, in a way that imitated Hasan and yet was all his own. "But the Boy-Who-Lived-to-get-all-the-credit is throwing a party next month at the Longbottom Estate. I'm sure you could meet him then."

Lucius froze. He could meet him.

"The Weasley's will be there too." Draco sneered, disgust evident in his voice. "The one's in school anyway."

"The Weasley's?" Narcissa hissed sharply. She knew of the bitter hatred between the Weasley's and the Malfoy's and wasn't so sure inviting Lucius to drop him off would be as conducive to his health as she had hoped.

"Oh, no matter, Narcissa." Lucius said, his usual drawl trickling back into his voice, "I'm sure it will be worth Draco's while." His grey eyes glinted as he thought of the diary and the many Weasley's that might just stumble upon it. Narcissa was too relieved to hear his normal self returning to pay much attention to Lucius' intentions.

Draco was just too absorbed in mentally bashing Dumbledore and his golden boy.

"Ah! It's a relief to have you back, Lucius. Now, why don't I set Dobby on dinner and Draco can tell us all about his new friends at Hogwarts!"

.oOo.

Altair was waiting at King's Cross station under the new and improved disguise of an aging woman. Not as creative as Snape, but the greasy man would just have to live with it. For the past few months, Altair's only connection to the Wizarding World was through Snape's acidulous comments that accompanied every potion, and of course, the Daily Prophet. Poor Raven was exhausted every time she arrived, and Altair would have to let her rest for a day or so before sending the creature back. He had missed Hasan terribly and had often stayed awake with Tina at night, reminiscing his own wonderful years at Hogwarts. But Altair Castell was used to being alone, and he was happy above all else that Hasan would be alive, and safe and well...

"Urgh!" Altair groaned as another wave of pain hit the back of his head. Damn ability! He had purposely chosen to postpone taking Snape's solution so that he could see Hasan's bright emerald aura once again. It really was a pretty color, but ominous, so very very ominous that it was the exact shade of the Avada Kedavra...Still, the abundant magical energy at the station pounding down on his brain would all be worth it once he reunited with his child!

Ah! There he was, pulsing green glow around him. His braid was in a fancy crown, and his black blazer was back on his shoulders. But...there was a pulse of silver around it, like a protective ward... Something was definitely wrong. What had happened at Hogwarts? He watched as Lucius junior led Hasan to lovely Narcissa, and watched in awe as Narcissa not only embraced Draco, but his own son as well! The silver became stronger, not threatening, but comforting, joining the silver auras of the Malfoy's to his. How unusual! Altair watched as the three exchanged pleasantries, before the Malfoy's left, and a group of red heads, plus that Longbottom boy, and Hermione from Diagon Alley, bombarded Hasan with parting hugs. Soon, these friends too had passed on, and Hasan was left standing by himself. Altair roused himself to stand, and walked with more agility than a woman in their nineties would have (so much for his disguise). Hasan noticed immediately and turned towards him with a broad, radiant smile.

"Hello, dad."

"Hello, Hasan." Altair said, and reached to grab his trunk, when a little head poked out of his sleeve.

:Greetingssss, little one.: Tina hissed happily.

"It's like she's talking to you!" Altair exclaimed humorously, before shrinking the trunk and placing it in his pocket. "Imagine, a boy that can talk to snakes!"

Hasan smiled too. Yes, he could just imagine.

The two walked out of the station, down the road, and into a dirty little alleyway before Altair took down his disguise and apparated them safely to the Estate.

"You should really work on your disguises more." Hasan laughed dryly as he stepped back into the manor. Ah! It just smelled like home! He unlocked Raven's cage and the little bird hopped free, scuttering to where she knew the owl treats were hidden.

"What? I can't pass as a woman? Thanks, Hasan." Altair grumbled, and flung Hasan's trunk into his room.

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm really not." Hasan said. "Don't be offended. I like you as a man."

Altair chuckled deeply. "Yeah me too."

Over a dinner of coq au vin, Hasan quickly explained the questions Altair had gathered about the newspaper articles. Was Neville really the Boy-Who-Lived? Why did they think it was Harry Potter? Where was Harry Potter? Who won the house cup? Who were Hasan's friends?

They were all fairly easy to answer: Yes, Neville really was the Boy-Who-Lived, technically, he was a boy that lived, but details, details, it wasn't exactly a descriptive epitaph. The second Hasan had no answer to, and as for the third, Hasan answered 'hiding'. There was no way in hell he was going to volunteer himself up for Neville's job! Who won the house cup? Slytherin, obviously, what with Neville and Ron losing points for Gryffindor every Potions' class, there was never really any doubt. And then the last: friends.

"I've met a few people who I've grown close to." Hasan said, not elaborating on what close meant, or how close.

"Do go on!" Altair said eagerly.

"I've met Hermione first, the muggleborn witch. Then Neville the Boy-Who-Lived, as well as Draco Malfoy."

"Ah, so you have befriended young Draco." Altair sighed.

"Why? Was it that obvious? I certainly didn't know the pompous Slytherin would turn out pretty decent."

"But you knew from the start that you wanted to have him as a friend, someone who would trust you, non?" For someone who was supposed to be dead and going into King's Cross disguised as an agile old lady, Altair certainly had his moments.

"I really didn't know anything." Hasan said stubbornly. "And as far as being a complete ignoramus goes, how could you not tell me that Professor Snape makes your potions?"

"Oh, he told you, did he?" Altair said. Hasan continued to glare. "Well, to be honest, I wanted you to make your own opinions about him. Without me, you know? Snape is a many faceted being, just like all of us I'm sure, but life hasn't been kind to him. I like him because he makes me headache relief potions, but suppose he didn't. Would I like him as much then? Also, I didn't want to sway your sorting. Did you know that twenty percent of students request houses of the sorting hat? Interesting, I know!..." Altair babbled.

Hasan stabbed some more mushrooms and chewed thoughtfully. He had like Professor Snape despite how he bullied Neville in the beginning. More so even than Professor McGonagall who had actually helped him a lot in his Transfiguration (and unknowingly Animagi) studies. It was good to know that Altair like the dour Potions Master too.

Altair was still talking about house statistics when he suddenly perked up.

"Hasan, I've got something to show you. You must have heard the blood prejudices firsthand, not only being friends with that muggleborn, but also being surrounded by Slytherins."

This piqued Hasan's interest. Where was he going with this?

"You have proof that blood is really just a myth?" Hasan asked tonelessly.

"As a matter of fact," Altair said, summoning a small black book with a wave of his wand, "I do."

Well this was a first. Finally some proof to his father's usual gossip.

"What is it? Who wrote it? When was it written?"

Altair cleared the kitchen table off with another flick of his wand, and the tome fell softly on the mahogany.

"This is an independent study written in my second year out of Hogwarts." he blew the dust off the cover and opened it reverently, careful not to so much as bend the thin parchment. "The data collected was based on a magical reservoir of sorts that a single person could contain. People from all walks of life sent in samples of their blood, everyone from students to Ministry officials to squibs, under the impression of medical research or other." Altair sighed contentedly as he pointed to a chart. "It shows how purebloods, halfbloods, and muggleborns have the same amount of potential power, their being's entire magical source. But their easy energy, the magic that flowed for everyday spells, had a different flavoring if you will. The halfbloods and muggleborns had a type of magic that I can only describe as new. Now I see it as red to yellow, depending on their genetics. If only I had had my power then. Ironic how these things come up, yes?"

Hasan inched around the table to better see the study, and was startled to find that the entire book was handwritten...Altair nodded proudly and ran his fingers down the yellowing parchment.

"Yes, it took one entire year to create. But as I was saying, purebloods are like dying flowers. They believe themselves to be high and mighty, but their colors fade each generation. They start off black, a healthy rich black, but it soon flows to dark gray, and the silver, and eventually white."

Hasan thought of Gandalf the Gray, and then Gandalf the White...it made sense, in a way. Perhaps Tolkien was a wizard with Altair's condition?

"What color are the Malfoy's?" Hasan enquired softly.

"Grey, or silver if you prefer." Altair said in surprise. "And before you ask, Dumbledore's white, the Dark Lord' sanguine, (the hypocritical bastard) and Snape's a lovely Gryffindor gold." Altair laughed.

Hasan nodded with a soft smile and flipped the book back to the smooth black cover. A.D.C & L.A.M were imprinted in bold silver font.

"And me?" Hasan asked quietly, tracing the initials with his fingers. He could feel Altair's eyes following them, and Hasan did not ask.

"And you, my son, are the most exquisite hue I've ever seen. But it's different now..."

"How?"

"It's, well it's got this silver mist around it. Not harmful, just, kind of there. I've never seen anything like it." Altair said slowly.

"Oh," Hasan said, immediately making the connection. "And the rest of me?

"Emerald, of course." Altair raised his fingers and tilted Hasan's chin up just slightly. "And yet, your eyes are jade. Imagine if your eyes were emerald...but pray tell. What happened at Hogwarts?"

Hasan bit his lip and slowly drew the knife out of his pocket. The emeralds glinted in the firelight, and the polished silver gleamed. Hasan looked up with concern when his father had yet to say anything, but instead, Altair was stock still. A deer in headlights, staring at the dagger.

"You didn't seem to mention how close you were to Draco." Altair finally whispered.

"We're just friends." Hasan said with a frown. "His mother said I'm part of their family now. What's wrong? Should I give it back?"

Draco hadn't given him a cursed artifact, had he?

"No. It'll do you good. It's protective by nature." Altair said, but inside he was moaning in the fields of nostalgia. "Keep it safe, Hasan. It's the last."

Hasan went to bed with Tina and Raven after a quick dessert of crêpes. But the dagger remained on the table, and Altair stared at it a long time. Remembering something very far away.