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Harry and Lily followed the aging Headmaster past the stone gargoyle and into his office. Dumbledore gestured to the two plush chairs as he took a seat behind his desk. They sat that way for a short time, until Dumbledore broke the silence.

"Sherbet lemon?" he asked innocently. Lily, behind her shadow charm and voice mask, sighed.

"Always with your lemons," she said, showing minor irritation. "It amazes me that your face hasn't turned into one big pucker." Dumbledore frowned, twinkling eyes drilling into what lay beneath the cloak. The eyes lost a bit of twinkle and he turned to Harry, studying him intently. Sighing heavily, the white beard wobbled as Dumbledore spoke.

"You've been practicing your Occlumency, Harry," he said softly. "And your companion has excellent mental defences as well."

"I would appreciate it if you would stop. I am entitled to my privacy, Albus, as is everyone else." Lily said angrily. "I believe I have said this once before." Dumbledore frowned, but said nothing. Lily continued. "And the leader of the Light Side does not, of course, claiming 'the good of the many'. How the good of the many is determined by what secrets a fifth year student holds, I will never know."

Dumbledore changed the conversation abruptly, ignoring the insults thrown his way. "Harry, these were sent for you. Please refrain from performing magic at your relatives' house." Harry was given a trio of identical envelopes, all addressed to him, care of the Ministry of Magic. Harry tossed them all into the air, and they landed in the fireplace and burned to a crisp. Dumbledore gaped, appalled.

"My dear boy, those could have been important!"

"Hmph," Harry retorted. "Could have are the operative words. Mafalda Hopkirk's fondest wishes are very important. Vital, even. Also the letters inviting me to casual sex are no doubt important to the safety of wizards and witches everywhere. Besides, I did not perform any magic at that hellhole. My companion here did."

Dumbledore frowned. An unknown person capable of performing things with a wand that even Filius Flitwick could not do. The people on that list were very numbered, especially after the death of Lily Potter. Suddenly remembering the Hufflepuff ghost's words, Dumbledore was shaken. "Lily?" The twenty-one year old whipped off her hood. With the removal of the hood, the voice masking and shadow charms were neutralized, and the visage of the long dead redhead appeared.

"Boo," she said for comic effect. Dumbledore was shocked, and made no effort to hide it.

"My word!" he exclaimed jumping up. He whirled on Harry. "How could you do such a thing, to your own mother no less?" Harry fought to not go red. Luckily Dumbledore turned to Lily as Harry failed miserably. "Bringing someone back to life... how could you, Harry? This is the darkest of magics!" Harry's blood left his face as Lily jumped up, outraged.

"Don't you dare scold my son!" Lily shouted. Dumbledore winced, remembering the details of the shouting matches at Godric's Hollow. "He's done nothing wrong! Voldemort captured him and forced Harry to perform the ritual! And don't 'how could you' him, as you went against our will and gave my only child to my bloody worthless sister!"

"Blood wards..." Dumbledore managed to get out, however weakly.

"Blood wards? As Godfather, Sirius was blood-bonded to Harry! You, of all people, should know that!" Dumbledore tried to escape by sliding under his desk, but Lily towered magnificently over him. Dumbledore looked appropriately ashamed.

"Hagrid got there first?" he tried.

"Gee," snarled the redhead. "Harry seems to remember a flying motorbike - and. Hagrid. Doesn't. Have. One!" The elderly headmaster wanted to crawl away and sob softly to sleep.

"I'm sorry," he said lamely.

"That's a start. A very small start."

"Now," Harry started, "about keeping Mum alive," Harry, hoping he could use Dumbledore's intimidated state to use as leverage, was promptly interrupted by Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said the man. "We cannot allow her to remain alive at the cost of others. She will remain alive for whatever time whatever ritual you used allows."

"But what about victims of the Kiss?" Harry asked frantically.

"No," Dumbledore said sternly. "They still might have a chance to be cured." Harry rolled his eyes.

"We can't just let her die!" Harry pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"How about Death Eaters in Azkaban?" he begged.

"They still have a chance to make things right," said Dumbledore firmly. "You will just have to accept that what you did will bring about consequences like these. There is nothing you, I nor anyone else can do. I'm sorry, Harry."

"You mean there's nothing you will do," spat Harry. Dumbledore said nothing. "It's funny how I have to pay for Voldemort's actions."

"You haven't tortured Harry on purpose, have you?" said Lily with conviction. "You're not sorry yet, Albus, but you will be,"
She whirled around and stalked out the door. Harry remained seated. Dumbledore looked at Harry wearily, looking for the very first time truly old.

"You'd better go after her, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "If I interrogate you any further, she'll yell at me again." Dumbledore shuddered and Harry fought a grin, thinking of all the fun he would have watching that.

"Good night then, Headmaster." Harry followed after his mother, and just as he reached the door, Dumbledore called his name.

"What?" he said almost rudely.

"I forgot, dear boy," he said as if none of the last ten minutes had even happened. "Your OWL results, courtesy of the Ministry." Harry was confused.

"Didn't I just burn those?" he asked.

"No, no," Dumbledore laughed. "Those were just Improper Use of Magic notices."

"Oh," said Harry, and just to irritate the headmaster, he tossed those into the fireplace as well. Without saying goodbye, Harry slammed the door leading out of the office and headed downstairs, ignoring the shocked face of Dumbledore.

Harry could hear guffawing and muttering coming from the portraits. "You just might do with another yelling," he said, cursing the old man.
Harry walked down the stairs and found his mother giggling at something. She turned to him.

"You know what I just realized?" she asked him. "I forgot to ask Dumbledore for a place to sleep." Harry shrugged.

"I know just the place, Mum." Lily grinned.

"All the secret passages stored in your head. Just like your father, you are." Harry couldn't help but grin.

"This is way better than just a secret passage," Harry said glowing. "Come on." He led her all the way up to the seventh floor. They had walked around a few times when Lily spoke up.

"I like touring the seventh floor as much as the next person, but the Astronomy Tower is back there," she teased. Harry blushed wonderfully.

"As fun as that was," Harry teased back experimentally, "what I'm looking for - ah. There she is." He walked up to a door and opened it wide. Stepping to the side, Harry gestured inside. Fighting back the remnants of an equally wonderful blush, Lily gaped at the current interior of the room. Two king size four-posters stood welcomingly within its walls, beckoning to be used. As they both stepped inside, the door to the room disintegrated behind them. In the corner was a luxurious bathroom, with a spa, a shower, and ceramic sinks. Also in the bedroom was a minibar, complete with both Muggle and Wizarding liquors. The pair were gobsmacked, as they both wandered about the large room. On each of the beds lay neatly folded silk pyjamas. On one pair, the letters H.P. were embroidered nicely in gold on the black left breast. The other pair was labelled L.E. in red over white on the right sleeve.

"Odd," Lily commented almost randomly.

"What's odd?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Oh," Lily said noncommittally. "These are labelled L.E. instead of L.P. Nothing too distressing." Harry nodded, still concerned as Lily walked into the beautiful bathroom and shut the door to change. Harry looked at his pyjamas uncertainly. Silk definitely wasn't his thing, he decided, so he shrugged off his jeans, leaving him in boxers and his t-shirt, and climbed under the covers contentedly. Lily had come out of the bathroom changed and ready for bed. She smiled as she saw the untouched silk pyjamas resting on a night table that wasn't there before. She leaned over and for the first time in a long time, kissed her son on the forehead. Harry's sleeping form smiled, basking in the glow of his mother's love. Lily felt stronger for some reason after the kiss. She wondered if that was a reaction due to the ritual, but shrugged it off unconcernedly, climbed under her own covers, and fell into a fitful rest.

She woke a few hours later, and glanced over at Harry, who was muttering things in his sleep. She got out of her bed, and groggily made her way over to Harry. She could clearly hear what he was saying now.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "No, no. Please. Not them..." Lily rushed over, and held her son to her chest, stroking his hair intermittently.

"Shh," she cooed. "Mummy's here. It's okay." She remembered Harry's favourite nursery rhyme, and softly sang that, even though Harry was a lot calmer. "Hush little baby, don't say a word; Mumma's going to buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing..." Harry awoke for a mere moment, and listened to the beautiful, melodic voice that hypnotized him. An image came to him, a white crib, above which floated brooms and carpets and snitches. A stuffed stag was closet to him, accompanied by a lion, a raven and a badger. And the same voice, singing the same song.

"Mum..." he murmured. Lily smiled softly, a tear leaked from her eye. Too tired to go back to her own bed, she climbed into the bed beside her son, and held him tightly as they both fell back into a deep sleep.