A/N: Hello, wonderful readers! I'm thankful to say it didn't take me as long to update this time!

Thank you to Teri for pointing out my mistake.

HoneyBear84, if you're reading this, please PM me! You were my 50th reviewer, and thereby won a one-shot of your choosing, which will be completed within 2 weeks of your request (I promise!)

Here we are, precious readers. Thank you all for sticking with me!


Slowly, the turban unraveled and fell to the floor. Inch after inch of fabric came loose, revealing the bald head of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. From the front, it looked normal. The back, however, was a different story.

"Hello, boysss." Came the hushed whisper. The voice was barely there, but Deimos's skin crawled in anxiety. He knew who this was. This could not possibly be an imposter. It was him.

Draco was having a similar reaction. Father had told him all about their lord. How his voice was soft, but could carry through the Great Hall without the aid of a sonorous charm. This voice was weak, but the potential power thrummed below the surface. As if through reflex, Draco stood a little firmer in front of his shorter brother.

Voldemort saw this and chuckled, "I mean no harm to you, child. Nor do I intend to harm that brother of yoursss, provided he meansss me none."

Deimos gently pushed Draco aside and stood before the man who had killed his birth parents. The man who could make his father quake.

"I mean you no harm, my lord." He murmured quietly. Voldemort's eyes widened.

"My lord, eh? Thisss is wonderful, child. Luciussss has raised you well. I do not believe there isss any need for fighting between usss, isss there?" he asked soothingly. Deimos raised his head and smiled shyly.

"No, my lord. I have no desire to harm you, and I am sorry about destroying your body." His apology was sincere. He had seen his father looking through photos from "the good days" and reminiscing. He wanted nothing more than to make that smile come back.

Through Quirrell, the Dark Lord patted the boy's head and bid them leave. However, he made them swear, upon pain of death, that no man would know of his return until it was time. Not a soul would know, until he returned to his full strength. However, he did have an assignment for them.


Several days later, the Malfoy heirs were racing through the halls, desperately trying to reach the dungeons in time.

They were almost there! They would make it!

Or, so they thought, until they slammed into something broad, but soft. Draco took the brunt of the impact, but Deimos caught him and smiled apologetically at their Uncle Sev. The older man did not look amused.

"You boys are late." He stressed the world late. The siblings shared a wince. One thing that was prided amongst pureblood culture was impeccable punctuality. The boys were led inside Severus's office to his sitting room

"Blippy! Tea for young Masters Malfoy! At once!" he barked. The brothers seated themselves in the overstuffed armchairs across from Severus's usual spot.

"Is there are reason you two asked to see me, on a day we usually do not have tea?" their uncle asked as he took a lump of sugar and dropped it into his teacup.

Deimos cleared his throat, "Uncle Sev, what do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?"

The raven-haired man in front of them choked on the tea he'd just sipped.

"Why do you want to know about the Philosopher's Stone, Deimos?" he asked dubiously. This conversation could lead nowhere good.

"I was reading about it in a book. I thought maybe you would know more about that I did." Deimos replied smoothly. The relief on Severus's face was almost comical. Little did he know, young Deimos was nothing if not a skilled, cunning liar. Usually, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. But when lying, he could make himself appear an innocent little angel.

"Ah, I see. I will explain to you what I know. It was created by Nicholas Flamel himself. It produces the Elixir of Life, which has allowed him and his wife to live as long as they both have. It can also turn metal into gold. It was, at one point, housed in Gringotts. However, it was nearly stolen, and is now housed somewhere far safer. Do you have any questions, Deimos?" he asked his nephew/godson. Those eyes sparkled up at him, shining with curiosity. Those eyes! Lily's eyes! They were nearly hypnotic. He knew that, should Deimos ever want him to do anything, all he would have to do is look up at him with that innocent and imploring gaze.

He was no fool. But he was a fool for his lost love's eyes. He would move the heavens and the earth for those eyes.

"No, Uncle Sev! That was almost what the book said, except the part about the robbery." He gave his favorite (read: only) uncle a wide grin and pulled the book out of his bag. Severus placed his teacup back onto its saucer and bid the boys leave, lest they be stuck scrubbing cauldrons all day.

They were gone in a flash, with shouts of farewell thrown behind them. Severus hid a wide grin.

Those two were, as the Muggles would say, hell on wheels. But they were two of the greatest things to ever happen to him. When the door slammed shut, he whistled quietly a lullaby he'd sang to them as he headed down to his lab.

Not many people got the privilege of seeing this facet of his personality.


He stalked angrily down the halls. However, it was long after midnight, so there were no students to block his path of righteous fury. Ghosts moved out of his way and eyed him warily; he paid them no mind. They were not important. He felt the eyes of the portraits following him, and resisted the temptation to take out his frustration on one of them. That would only lead to more trouble.

He had been to the Ministry, and seen that thrice-damned life-force globe glowing strongly. It had only taken a few strategic tugs on a few well-placed strings to view that globe. Harry James Potter.

The boy was healthy.

The boy was strong.

The boy was not here!

He hadn't shown up on September 1st. No one had seen him board the Hogwarts Express. He knew. He'd asked.

The Dursleys had no idea the brat had even been placed on their doorstep. He had been taken that night! But by whom? And why?

And, most importantly, where was he now!? He'd tried everything he could think of. Even a well-cast "point me" spell had failed.

Albus Dumbledore was one angry man. But he would find Harry Potter and force him to save them all, come hell or high water. It was for the greater good, after all. Right?