Disclaimer: All the characters, places, creatures, spells,... that you know from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and I guess her publishing company, but they certainly don't belong to me. I mean no offence to anyone and I don't make money with this, either.

Author's Note: Hey there! Thanks for clicking on my story! I hadn't planned on posting another story for a while as I'm going to move soon, but since I'm pretty bored and have nothing to do for the next few months I thought this would be a good way to get rid of both problems...

Warnings: Slash, threesome, (slight) incest, violence, rape, suicide attempt, OOCness, language... (I think that's all, but you never know what my muse might decide on later)

Please, bear in mind that English is not my native language and that currently I have no beta. On that note, if you want to help improve my story, I'd be very grateful if you would contact me, either via a review or a private message.

I also know that the comma should be put inside the quotation marks, but in German it's like I did it. I personally don't see that as a huge problem and I have no particular motivation to change it.

Updates: I'll try to update at least once a week, but I don't promise anything. It certainly would go much faster if someone would help me with spell-checking the chapters #wink#...

Thanks to Silver Lady this chapter is now betaed. Thank you so much for your help!!!!


Lucius Malfoy was bored and not even Peter Pettigrew's continued attempts to make the feather in front of him levitate steadily served to amuse him. Well, maybe it amused him, but it didn't ease his boredom. Honestly, even first years were able to perform that charm and he was by no means a first year, and he would even deny that Pettigrew was a first year if only because the despicable little Gryffindor was older than him.

It was a sad day indeed that he had to occupy his mind with that simpering fool. But what was he to do? Flitwick had deemed it necessary that they revise this spell to help them with the new spell they were to learn and, obviously, revising implied, in his opinion, that they spend three whole hours on this. Admittedly, it was a good time for sleeping, but every time the dwarf either toppled from his stack of books or squeaked an absolutely unnecessary comment, he woke up again. Besides, Malfoys never waste their time with such plebeian things as sleeping- at least that was what everyone was to think.

Not to mention that Narcissa Black was staring at him again. Honestly, just because they were to marry once out of school didn't mean that he was even remotely interested in her and the marriage contract between their two families didn't include that he had to date her during school or couldn't date someone else. It seemed like that whole family was incapable of reading. He just wished his offspring inherited his brains and hopefully his looks too because although the blonde was rather pleasing to the eye, she was nothing special and one look into her eyes told you that there was nothing going on in her perfectly formed head.

He stretched his long legs, rearranging them so that they lay under Severus' chair, who was reading a Potions book from the Restricted Section or his family library, and allowed himself to slump a little, debating if the remaining five minutes were worth it to get out the book on Magical Rituals he had borrowed from Flint earlier, but then decided that watching the Charms teacher choke on the feather Pettigrew had shoved down his throat would be entertaining enough.

The blond was almost disappointed when Evans performed a Summoning Charm, ending the spectacle, but then something happened that not even his bored mind had thought of yet. There was a loud thud that almost sounded like the beat of a drum and, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding bright vortex over all of their heads. Before one of the girls could decide to let out an alarmed shriek, a small black bundle dropped from the centre of it and landed with another sickening thud, that seemed to be accompanied by the cracking of bones. The vortex then disappeared as if nothing had happened; that is, if there hadn't been the black bundle lying between Lucius' desk and Avery's to the left.

Lucius grabbed his wand tighter, for the first time in this lesson, with the intention to use it if necessary, and peered at the thing that had been dropped next to him. He drew back shocked as he realised that it was indeed a man, no, more like a boy, fifteen perhaps, that was dressed completely in black. Black trousers, black combat boots, black bandages around his wrists, black turtleneck and a black hoodie sweater over it. His hair was also pitch black and quite unruly, spreading around him like a crown, but there was also a black cloth wrapped firmly around his head, covering his eyes, eyebrows and part of his nose. All of this inky blackness contrasted sharply with the pale milky white skin making it seem like the boy glowed with an eerie light.

"Shouldn't we help him?" Lily asked the professor carefully.

The diminutive teacher seemed unsure for a moment, but then nodded in approval and carefully approached the boy, bending down a little to look into the stranger's face. "Miss Prewett, please, fetch the Headmaster and Madam Talda."

The small, red-haired girl left immediately, closing the door quietly behind her, while the others slowly moved a bit closer. Lucius sneered at some Hufflepuff who had dared to invade his personal space before turning his eyes back to the mysterious boy. Suddenly the whole circle around him wavered as the boy groaned painfully and shifted a little.

"Can you hear me, my boy?" Flitwick gently patted his cheeks.

"If you aren't the old coot who got me into all this you should really stop patting my cheeks and calling me 'my boy', Professor Flitwick, sir," the boy said as he swatted away his hand, "and since when don't I even get a bed? I knew Poppy wanted revenge, but this is a bit drastic."

"You must be a bit confused..."

"I assure you that I'm not," the boy said as he sat up, ignoring the cracks from jostling his ribs as if it didn't matter. "So, how did it end?"

"How did what end?" Flitwick asked, seemingly the one confused of the two, though Lucius couldn't really hold this against him.

"The last Slytherin-Gryffindor match of course," the boy snorted sarcastically, "please don't tell me she put me in a room with all the people with amnesia."

"How would you know about the game?" Severus asked suspiciously, "and why do you care?"

"Sev?" the boy's head swivelled around, "is that you?"

"I'm Severus Snape," the Slytherin sneered, "I'm certainly not 'Sev'."

To his surprise the boy started chuckling at that. "That's fine. I'm glad she got you too. I guess we had it coming...but now tell me, how did it end?"

"Slytherin won."

"Don't be stupid, Sev," the stranger scowled at him, "besides the fact that Slytherin never wins and that this joke is really old, this is not the time for joking anyway. How did the war end?"

"He must have hit his head pretty hard," the Charms professor murmured to himself, "he thinks the war has ended."

"Okay," the boy said as he pulled his knees to his chest, "I'm not liking this game anymore. Just tell me; it can't be that bad."

"Mr. Malfoy, please hold him still, while I stun him," the Charms professor requested, drawing his wand.

"Dray?" the boy's head snapped up hopefully, reaching out a hand, "tell them to stop, please."

Lucius carefully enveloped the smaller boy's hand in his own, sliding closer as he was tugged on gently. "I don't know any Dray," he murmured, as the boy's other pale hand started to comb through his blonde hair and caress his face- Merlin, that felt good!

In the next moment the boy reacted in a way none of them had foreseen. Flitwick had just poised his wand, aiming at the heart of the stranger, when he pulled his own wand from within his sleeve and pushed it against the hollow of Lucius' throat, forcing him to stand up so that the boy could lean his back against the wall, Lucius between him and his classmates.

"What sick game are you playing?" he snarled dangerously. "If one of you reaches for his or her wand, or comes even one step closer, he will die."

"That wouldn't be such a great loss," Sirius Black muttered under his breath, but the stranger obviously heard him because he pointed Lucius' own wand in his direction. "Even I would have thought better of him, but seemingly he found new dresses for his Death Eaters. Do you think you can hurt me with this?" he shouted the last part out, facing the ceiling: "What now, too afraid to face me?!"

"I'm sure we can talk about this," Flitwick tried to mediate.

"Sure, we'll talk about this as soon as you stop impersonating my friends," the boy mocked quietly. "This little plan of his won't work, you can tell him that."

"There is no plan..."

"Oh, yes, my fault, forgive me," the boy taunted, his wand still pressed against Lucius' pulse point, "I guess it was just a coincidence that I wake up in a room full of Death Eaters in the bodies of my friends..."

"We don't even know your friends," Severus pointed out and Lucius would have loved to strangle him when the wand was pressed down even harder.

"Exactly. You could have at least bothered to learn your roles better," the boy then shifted a little, leaning more heavily against the wall. "Who else is here? Hermione, perhaps? Oh no, you wouldn't want to be trapped in the body of a mudblood, would you?" he laughed harshly, "but Ron, surely; you wouldn't even have to change your body, would you, traitor? Where are you? Say hello to your old friend," no one answered that call and the small boy continued. "Oh, it doesn't matter, there are a lot of other friends, I'm sure. Remus? Oh, I do hope you have a Remus."

"I'm Remus," Lupin spoke up, though his friends tried to stop him, "how do you know me?"

The boy laughed almost happily at that. "I'm starting to enjoy this. I really have to congratulate Voldemort later," everyone in the room winced, including Lucius which made the boy laugh even harder. "Oh, that never fails to amuse me! Death Eaters afraid to hear their Master's name...It would make quite a heading if it weren't for the fact that everyone else is afraid too. I guess Voldemort," he drew out the name on purpose, "can't even stand his own name."

"Look, I don't know you," Lucius finally had enough; as much as he normally enjoyed being embraced by another wizard, being held at wandpoint was not one of his hobbies, "none of us does, and I don't know who you are mistaking me for, but I'm not impersonating this Dray-person. You must be a pretty bad friend if you can't tell us apart."

The wizard behind him snorted, but thankfully didn't attack.

"I don't think you Death Eaters would know what friendship was if it hit you in the face, but let's play a game, shall we? What, Mr. Death Eater, would be your current hair colour?"


"Ah, that explains a lot," the boy chuckled, before he continued. "See? That alone proves that you're not Dray- he would have killed me for that comment, but let's continue. What's your eye-colour?"


They had to wait a bit longer for the answer this time and it surprised and calmed them a little when the wizard talked much more seriously this time. "You're taller," Lucius had to struggle to control himself as the boy's free hand started to glide over his stomach again and finally slipped under his shirt, but he held still, not in the mood to provoke the mysterious boy. "Where did you get this scar?"

The blond shivered slightly as the thin, cold fingers caressed the scar on his abdomen. "I fell from my horse and landed in a trap," he stated evenly. "If you would kindly release me now?"

To his surprise the boy did indeed let go of him, even pushing his wand back into his hand as he turned around after he had brought some distance between them. The boy seemed to be in deep thought and not even aware of the wands that were trained on him.

"Ah, our mysterious visitor," Dumbledore, followed by the school nurse, said as he entered the room with a beaming smile on his face. "Everything seems to be under control here."

Lucius snorted at that. If you could call a dangerous and obviously insane wizard in a classroom full of students with an incompetent teacher in charge, under control, then yes, everything was just peachy!

"Who are you, my dear boy?"


"Yes, that's one of my names, though I always liked Wulfric best," the old wizard smiled pleasantly, "you can, of course, also call me a senile old fool. Now, who might you be?"

"Don't you recognise me?" the boy asked almost pleadingly.

"I'm afraid not, my boy," Dumbledore stated, "maybe I'll just need a bit of help to figure it out. What is your name?"

"You want my name?" the boy chuckled and slid down to the floor, his wand dangling loosely in his hand. "My name is Harry James Potter, but no one calls me that anymore. I'm the boy-who-lived, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor, or the Chosen One. I'm the second-in-command of the Order and my code name is Phoenix, though since everyone knows it's me, it's not much of a code name any longer. You can chose one."

"Harry," Dumbledore scowled slightly, "what Order are you talking about?"

"Your Order, of course," the boy, Harry, reached under his shirt, making them all tense in suspicion, and pulled out a small necklace in the form of a phoenix.

"How do you know of it?"

"It would seem rather logical since I'm the second-in-command," Harry sighed, "but if you want to know the details, you had to tell me in my fifth year because Voldemort is after me. I became an official member two months ago when the real war started."

"Why is Voldemort after you, Harry?"

"Because I'm dangerous to him," Harry shrugged nonchalantly, "I defeated him once already and I think I just did it again, this time for good."

"You defeated You-Know-Who?" Lily asked incredulously.

"Well, I would call it that," the stranger shrugged his shoulders, "but maybe there's another word for his ending up in a smoking pile of ashes, but to me he seemed rather dead."

"What about the second time?" Severus asked suspiciously.

"What is this?" the boy asked annoyed, "story time? Read it up, there are lots of books about it in the library."

"Harry, this is important for us," Dumbledore intervened and the boy sighed.

"The killing curse rebounded from me to him when I was a baby. It threw him out of his body. He returned in my fourth year. Now, do you mind? This floor is rather cold and if you think sitting around with cracked bones is anywhere near comfortable then you're sorely mistaken."

The nurse looked doubtful, but approached him reluctantly when the headmaster made a sign.

"Where's Poppy?"

"I don't know a Poppy, Harry," Dumbledore stated soothingly, "but Madam Talda will fix you up in no time."

"Well, of course you don't know Poppy," the boy sighed, "and don't you dare come near me," he pointed his wand at the stunned nurse, "you will not touch me as long as I'm conscious."

"You said yourself that you're hurt, my dear boy," Dumbledore dared to object.

"Then give me a potion or something," the stranger shrugged, "or leave me alone, I don't care, but since you all seem to have amnesia I really don't think letting you perform some stupid healing charms on me is a good idea."

"Harry, we don't have amnesia," Dumbledore spoke up, "Voldemort was never defeated, I never initiated you in the Order, and as far as I know, there's no Harry Potter either."

"Look, you play your roles pretty well, I'll admit that", the boy sighed tiredly, "and if this is some plot to drive me insane it will most likely succeed sooner or later, but once Voldemort musters up the courage to come here I will kill him or die trying, whether I'm insane or not. It's as easy as that. Maybe it would be easier for you if you just left me alone until then."

"Can you tell me what's the last thing you remember, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently, exchanging a look with the confused Charms teacher.

"It was the day of the last battle," Harry groaned, "the battle we agreed upon. Both sides. It was supposed to end the war. We fought for hours." The black-haired boy took a deep breath before he continued, "Voldemort wasn't even there. So many fell; I don't know if they're still alive. Then he came with his Dementors and everyone who could still muster up the strength conjured his or her Patronus. We were winning. The Death Eaters had either been knocked out or changed sides, the vampires fled at dawn, Greyback was chased off by the centaurs and his werewolves were put out by a ritual we had worked on, the giants fought on our side, as did the Ministry, but no one dared to go near Voldemort and he made our lines waver. They were so afraid. I don't know how I managed to come to stand in front of him," Harry rested his head in his hands. "We fought and I think the others stopped fighting. I don't know if it was because there were no more opponents or because they were curious. I lost my wand, but then one of my spies gave his to me.. We continued fighting, I don't know how long. Curse after curse, block after block, nothing seemed to stop him," Harry's voice trembled slightly, "then Fawkes brought me the sword of Gryffindor and I plunged it into his chest," the boy choked, "he burnt. His wand exploded then, he said something I didn't understand, and then I passed out."

"Harry, when exactly did that happen?" Dumbledore asked concernedly as the boy had buried his head between his knees. "What date is today?"

"The morning after Halloween," Harry said in a small voice, "the date is, I think, the first of November 1998, but I don't know how long I was out."

There was a collective gasp and the boy's head snapped up. "Oh no, don't tell me what I think you're going to tell me, Albus."

"You travelled back in time," Dumbledore answered calmly and the boy groaned softly.

"I said don't tell me...What year is it?"


"But...that's the year my parents were in their seventh year," the boy seemed to be struggling not to pass out or lose his temper and Lucius had to say that he thought passing out would be a much better option right now.

"Am I assuming correctly that James Potter is your father?" Dumbledore asked kindly and the boy nodded faintly. "He's in this classroom."

"Really?" the boy perked up hopefully.

"Yes," James Potter spoke up, looking somewhere between confused, stunned and really proud that his son had shook them all up so completely. "I'm standing to your right."

Harry was up in a matter of seconds, weaving through the other students until he stood in front of his father unsurely. "Can I touch you? Please? I want to know what you look like..."

"Okay," James answered hesitantly and the small hands of his son carefully pressed against his chest which was on level with Harry's head.

The hands slowly slid upwards, till he was cupping James' face, his thumbs caressing over his father's slightly coarse cheeks, over the closed mouth, his straight aristocratic nose, and then the thick eyebrows, until they buried themselves in the thick black hair that was just as unruly as his own and he chuckled. "Everyone always told me how much I looked like you; now I ask you, do I?"

"It's pretty hard to tell since that cloth is covering half of your face," James remarked. "Are you really my son?"

"If you're really James Potter, then yes, I am," Harry laughed, pulling back slightly and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

James joined in immediately, grinning like the Easter bunny on Christmas Eve and shook the hand exaggeratedly. "Very nice to meet you, indeed. Now, who would be your mother, kid?"

Harry laughed at this, swatting him over the head. "Oh no, Daddy Dearest, I won't tell you, you have to find out for yourself and make an effort to get her."

"I'm your father," James tried to use an authoritative voice, but Harry only chuckled happily.

"And? I'm your son." Sirius barked out laughing at this exchange and Harry swivelled around, throwing his arms around the taller boy's neck. "Siri! It really was you..."

"Of course it was me," Sirius puffed his chest out proudly, "I'm unique."

"I know," Harry smiled, still hugging him, "you are my godfather."

"Ha!" Sirius punched the air triumphantly, "I'm sure it was me who taught you all this cool stuff."

"Nope, sorry," Harry laughed, "you didn't corrupt me. Where's Remus?"

"Here," the werewolf touched the wizard's arm lightly and at once found himself with an armful of the delighted boy. "I'm sorry I acted like that earlier, Remus."

"I guess it must have been a bit confusing," Remus admitted, cautiously sniffing the new boy; he did indeed smell a lot like James. "So if Sirius is your godfather, then who am I?"

"You are my Uncle Remus," Harry smiled up at him.

"And what am I then?" Pettigrew squeaked and Harry growled dangerously in his direction.

"You are a nuisance," he spat, approaching carefully, following the frightened boy's path of retreat, until he had him cornered. "You are a traitor," he whispered in his ear, "and you are dead. Revenge is so sweet. Do you want to know what I did, Wormtail? I told Voldemort you were the traitor. I didn't even have to lift a finger, I just watched you be punished."

"Why did he believe you?" Peter squeaked, "I bet you are the traitor."

Harry laughed harshly at that. "He thinks Gryffindors don't lie, but he never understood what you were willing to do when you had no other choice... and now I will tell you this once and only once, keep away from me."

The fat boy shrieked in terror before running from the classroom and Lucius concluded that this was even more amusing than watching him fail, though he would really love to know what Harry had said to him.

"I would really appreciate a potion now," Harry stated, hopping up on one of the desks.

"I can't give you a potion if I don't know what your injuries are," said Madam Talda, a broad-shouldered old witch with a motherly attitude.

"My right arm and my right leg are broken," Harry enumerated, "three of my ribs are cracked, I have a slight concussion, and I was hit by more than twenty Cruciatus curses; and if you want to know the details, it hurts."

The nurse hummed, more or less used to such patients, and rummaged through her bag, hauling out two bottles, one of which Lucius recognised as a Bone-Mending Potion.

"Here, dear, drink these," she handed him the Bone-Mending Potion first which he sniffed suspiciously before grimacing and downing it in one go, "and now this one."

Harry uncapped the second bottle, sniffing at it once again, before recapping it and handing it back. "No, thank you, it has a Sleeping Draught in it and I have no intention to sleep until this whole mess is cleared up and solved."

"But, dear..."

"No," Harry crossed his now healed arms stubbornly, "I don't need a pain-reliever, it's okay like this."

"Harry," Dumbledore, too, tried to convince him, but Harry cut him off.

"I appreciate it, really, but I don't need anyone to mother me and right now I'd much rather like to know how you intend to send me back."

"I fear we have to wait for a message from the future," Dumbledore sighed. "In this time time travel is merely a theory and if you can't remember what Voldemort's last words were it's impossible to reconstruct what happened."

"And then what do you suggest I do?" Harry answered, seemingly not all that happy.

"Why, go to school of course," the headmaster clapped his hands happily, "what year would you happen to be in?"

"No," Harry stated, "this plot won't work, Albus. I won't go back to school just because you think I should enjoy my childhood or something like that. I have my OWLs, I have my NEWTs and I've already learned more than I'll ever need. I won't go back to school."

"That's my son," James declared proudly, patting Harry on the back.

"Potter, that is not funny," Lily scoffed, "everyone should finish school. Your son obviously inherited your brains."

"Actually," Harry spoke up in amusement, "I think I have more of my mother in that aspect. It's just that I did everything they teach here already."

"How?" Lily asked confused, "you can't be older than a fourth year."

"Ah, yes, I wondered when this would come up," Harry sighed, "I'm sixteen and would be starting my sixth year now, but I got special training because of Voldemort."

"Well, then you can join the sixth years," Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, which was of course completely lost on the blind boy. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't approve of you skipping school."

"Oh, I do approve," James exclaimed happily and Sirius nodded emphatically.

"I fear we have to assume that you grew up, James," the Headmaster twinkled at him, "and, so since I don't have the approval of your adult guardians to let you loose, you will have to stay in school, Harry."

"You can't force me," Harry stated stubbornly, "I'll be out of the door before you even find your wand in your beard."

"My dear boy, I don't doubt that," Dumbledore chuckled, stroking his beard in thought, "but you will have to stay at Hogwarts so that your friends from the future will be able to find you. See it as a chance to spend some time with your parents and find new friends."

"And how is that supposed to work out, Albus, if they're one year over me?"

The Headmaster seemed thoughtful for a moment before he smiled once more. "If everything you told us is correct, I guess you could join the seventh years instead...Is it?"

"Is what?" Harry scowled at him, but no one saw it because the blindfold hid so much of his face, "I didn't lie."

"You have to forgive me, my boy, but it is not everyday we have a time traveller who not only claims to have defeated Voldemort and passed his NEWTs at sixteen, but also says that he's the second-in-command of the Order. Why would I instate a boy as the second leader of the Order?"

"Because I have the spies," Harry laughed, "I usually have the information first and some time ago you decided that you were done with being awakened in the middle of the night just to let me decide anyway."

"Why do you have the spies?" Lucius asked interestedly, pondering whether he too was one of the spies.

"You know the saying 'sleeping with the enemy'," Harry asked innocently, "well, it can get a whole new meaning."

The room lapsed into a shocked silence while Harry tried to keep from bursting out into laughter, but finally he couldn't hold it back anymore. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to see your faces right now," he gasped, clutching his sides.

"Prongs, you can stop hitting your head against the table now," Sirius said as he pulled his best friend away from the desk, "he was only kidding."

James still looked a bit dazed and quite horrified, but he understood Sirius' words at least so far that he looked up and at his son, who was still laughing. "So you didn't sleep with Death Eaters?" he asked hopefully.

Harry stopped laughing immediately turning in his direction. "I never slept with anyone just so they would support me in the war," he said seriously, "I had other arguments," he replied as he smirked again.

"But how can you lead others if you're blind," a Hufflepuff asked confusedly.

"Just because I can't see," Harry said slowly, "doesn't mean that I can't notice things or that I can't fight. For instance, I know that there are twenty-four people in this room. I know that only half of you would be able to draw your wand before I'd be able to knock you out. I know that six of you are not even remotely dangerous. I know that only two of you wouldn't hesitate to kill me. I know where to attack first to assure that I make it to the door unscathed, and I know that I could take all of you out with only minor injuries. I don't need to see to fight."

"He has your big-head," Lily said to James, who looked offended.

"It's not big-headedness," Harry shrugged, leaning back slightly, "I know my abilities and so do those who follow me. It may sound arrogant, but it's the truth."

He answered several more questions about his life, being as evasive as he deemed necessary, and about the war, but he was not really there, while he talked he thought about his friends who hopefully had survived the war as well. He remembered Moody going down, after being surrounded by three vampires, but it hadn't been the Killing curse which had been seldom used in the whole battle since it called for so much energy, but that didn't mean anything- they all knew spells that could do more than enough harm. He concentrated on his friends and his spies, which were also his friends, trying to feel them, but it didn't work and so he could only hope that the protection spells hadn't failed in their time of need.

"Who's that Dray you kept me for?" Lucius asked suddenly, startling Harry from his thoughts just as he thought about said boy.

He smiled softly. "Your son, Lucius. Draco Malfoy, my best friend."

"Why are you friends with Slytherins?" Sirius whined.

"Firstly, just because Lucius is in Slytherin doesn't mean that Dray is a Slytherin, too," Harry scowled darkly, though once again no one saw, "and secondly, I'm friends with Slytherins because they are funny, they can make me laugh and because I appreciate it that they tell me to my face if I do something wrong instead of stabbing me in the back because they're afraid to hurt my feelings."

"So is my son in Slytherin?" Lucius asked, slightly dreading the answer.

"Of course," Harry smiled warmly at him, "no house would be better for him."

"And what house are you in?" Dumbledore asked.

"Gryffindor; at least at the moment," Harry yawned cutely, putting his head on the neighbouring table so that his back hung free, "but I would mostly likely be sorted into Slytherin now...The war changed people."

"We shall have you resorted then," Dumbledore nodded in thought, but Harry gave no reply, "and I think you should all go down for dinner," he smiled at the assembled students, "while I will talk to Mr. Potter privately, okay, Harry?" the boy once again didn't react.

"Um, sir, I think he's asleep," one of the Ravenclaws offered and everyone once again turned towards the small boy, who lay curled up on top of the tables.

The nurse tutted disapprovingly while checking Harry's pulse. "He's unconscious, Headmaster, but stable, I'll bring him to the hospital wing."

"Just check to see if he's really who he claims to be," the Headmaster ordered.

Lucius watched in fascination as the nurse murmured a spell, gently tapping the boy's palm with her wand. Glittering gold letters began to hover over the boy's unruly black head: Harry J. Potter. Flitwick let out a sigh of relief, but Dumbledore moved closer to Harry, pushing up the left sleeve of his shirt, revealing a slender, unblemished, pale arm.

"It seems you are indeed the father of a quite remarkable young man, James," Dumbledore smiled at him, "I will contact your parents so that they can meet their grandchild."

"For now I think Harry would be best off in the infirmary," Madam Talda magicked the sleeping boy onto a stretcher, letting it levitate beside her. "It must have been quite a strain for him," she looked down concernedly, tutted again and then left the room, Harry floating beside her.

Dumbledore followed her, whistling happily.

And now the promised nagging: Please review and tell me what you think of it... Pleeeease!!!!