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The editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet slumped in his chair and rubbed his throbbing temples with ink-stained fingers. The 'Harry Potter Scandal', as Rita Skeeter was calling it, had been news for all of twenty-four hours, and people were sending his office Howlers about the damned thing. As if it was his fault the Boy-Who-Lived had been living with /Muggles/, of all people - abusive ones, at that.

He snorted. Some dotty old granny from Yelverton wrote in claiming to have spotted 'dear little Harry' wandering around the market with a pretty young woman. /You and everyone else has seen Potter alive and well, luv/, he thought. Ah well. At least the bickies she sent in with the letter were tasty.

A pounding on his office door jerked him out of his wallowing.

"Come in," he called, straightening in his seat.

One of the young interns flung the door open, wild eyed. "'Ere, Chief, you need to read this," he yelped. He waved a Ministry memo in his face frantically.

"What's all this about, then?" the Chief asked. He tugged the memo from the intern's tight grip and scanned it. The blood drained from his face as he read the brief notice.

Confidential to Minister:
Imprisoned Death Eaters found dead late tonight. Apparent suicide pact. Black still alive. Awaiting instructions.
Auror Savage, Azkaban

"Get someone on this, fast," he barked at the intern. Oh, Merlin. He could feel his headache growing by the second.

"I'm on it, Chief!" The intern rushed to the door, then stopped and turned back questioningly. "Er, Chief? Anyone you want coverin' this story?"

"Not. Bloody. Rita," he groaned. "Get out."

What a hellish way to start a new day.

**

Erich chuckled at the headline of the morning's Daily Prophet. "Did you get a look at this, Augustus?" he said jovially. "We're dead!"

Augustus cast a cynical eye at the paper his friend was holding. "Mm. Apparently Lucius remembered Severus's experiments with barbiturates, Muggle physiology and potions. Deadly combination, that."

"Who's dead?"

The two early risers turned to smile at young Harry, who was standing in the doorway looking very sleep-rumpled in his striped pyjamas.

"We are, apparently," Erich said. He pulled out the chair next to him for the boy. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Sausage, please, with ketchup," Harry said eagerly, sliding into the seat. "And toast and jam." He grinned. "Does the paper always say people are dead when they aren't? It said I was dead yesterday."

Augustus's hand stilled over the jam pot. "What?"

Harry nodded. "Yesterday's paper is over on the sideboard, if you want to read it. It was a funny article." He accepted his plate from Augustus and took a large bite of sausage.

Erich traded a long look with Augustus. "Harry...that article is about Harry /Potter/. Is that-"

"Not something up for discussion outside of this house," Tom interrupted from the dining room door. "And yes, it's quite true." He strode in and took his seat at the head of the table, Rabastan and Antonin trailing behind sleepily.

"My Lord," Augustus said respectfully.

"Good-/hnnh/!-morning, Uncle Thomas," Harry said with a bright smile, punctuating his greeting with a yawn.

"Coffee, please, Erich," Antonin begged. "Tell me I can have coffee again."

Erich pushed a steaming carafe across the table. "Have at it. We didn't stint in making it."

The three men grabbed at the carafe with pleased murmurs.

"Augustus, my friend," Tom said. "Did you draw up those papers I was asking for?"

In response, Augustus tossed a thin folder onto the table. "Everything you requested, my Lord. Birth records for you and the boy, school letters and test scores from Durmstrang for you, even a childhood visit to St Mungo's for dragon pox. I filled out a proper adoption certificate for one Henry Peverell, as well."

Tom allowed himself a satisfied smile. "Excellent. I'll have Walden slip the records into the Ministry's files today."

"If you like, my Lord, I could deal with Karkaroff," Antonin said gruffly. A cruel light shone in his eyes. "He needs to learn what happens to traitors."

"I won't risk you being recaptured, Antonin," Tom said firmly. "Let Lucius have him."

Rab laughed and rubbed his left forearm. "He's probably shaking like a leaf up in that school of his, wondering why his Mark is back."

"Let him shake," Augustus growled. "He owes me eight years of my life." He stabbed at his eggs violently.

Everyone at the table nodded.

"I would have him removed from the picture," said Tom, "but he could be useful where he is. We will make him pay, though. I promise you."

"Good," the former Unspeakable grunted, turning back to the Daily Prophet.

"My Lord, how do you plan to disguise Harry?" Rab asked. "He is...very distinctive."

"I thought I'd have Narcissa and Bellatrix handle that," he answered. "They'll be by later this morning."

"And our old comrades?" Antonin looked to him eagerly.

"Lucius has been told to spread the word discreetly. Marcus, Simon and the Carrows should be dropping by within a day or two. I'm not sure how to handle our comrades with children Harry's age."

Erich set his coffee cup down. "What of young Severus?"

Tom shook his head. "I give it a month or so. He teaches at that infernal school, after all. The old man will have his eye on him, 'redeemed' or not." He sneered elegantly at the thought of Dumbledore.

"Sweet Salazar," Erich said, startled. "Is it December already?"

Augustus checked the date on the corner of the paper. "Mmhmm. The month just changed."

The four escapees exchanged intense looks. "We've just missed our anniversary party, then," Rab said, a slight grimace-grin on his hollow face. "I hope you're not too put out about that, Augustus."

"Damn," Augustus said dryly. "And I was so looking forward to another year crossed off."

"It's over," Tom told them. "It can only get better."

"My Lord," Antonin said gruffly, "it has improved greatly already. We thought we would die in there for you. Travers and Crouch did. Now we can live for you, instead."

The other escapees echoed his quiet declaration.

Tom was startled by the intensity of his followers' devotion. "I am honoured," he said simply, slightly overwhelmed. Rab gripped his hand beneath the table.

The enchanted bell rang out twice, effectively cutting through the high emotions at the table. Harry perked up.

"It's Narcissa and Bella!" He turned to Tom with pleading eyes. "May I be excused, Uncle Thomas?"

"Off with you, Harry," he chuckled. He shook his head at the boy's eagerness.

Harry flew from the room, his cheery voice flying back to the men still at breakfast. "Narciiissa! Belllla! Good morning!"

"He is a remarkable boy, my Lord."

Tom looked to Antonin and smiled faintly. "He is indeed, my friend. He is indeed."

**

The sisters stifled their giggles at the sight of the pyjama-clad boy with un-brushed hair bounding towards them.

"Good morning to you, too, dear," Narcissa said as he skidded to a halt inches from them. "Did you have a nice breakfast?"

Harry nodded emphatically. "I did! And guess what, Bella?"

The dark-haired witch smiled down at the excited child. "What, Harry?"

"The Daily Prophet said all of you died," he said, eyes dancing. "The Muggles were a perfect switch!"

Bella laughed and hugged Harry. "Dear, clever boy. You've made my morning."

"Severus's experiments, I suppose," Narcissa commented idly.

"That's what Augustus said," Harry replied.

"Shall we go upstairs?" Bella suggested. "I haven't seen your room yet."

Harry's eyes lit up, and he beckoned to them. "My bedroom's next to the library," he said happily. "Come see!"

The Black sisters followed him up the stairs and down the hall, smiling widely. The boy's enthusiasm was contagious.

Bella went straight to Harry's wardrobe. "You might be fine romping about in your pyjamas when it's early morning," she said, "But you've plenty of nice clothes, and it's past breakfast for you." She passed him a long-sleeved blue shirt and black wool trousers, and gave him a gentle shove in the direction of his bathroom.

When he emerged, neatly dressed, hair as messy as ever, he asked tentatively, "Narcissa? Uncle Thomas said you were going to help disguise me."

"I came prepared, dear." Narcissa reached into her pocket and pulled out a small glass jar with an ivy leaf embossed on the top.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Cover up? Like Aunt P-like women use?"

Bella snickered at the disgusted look on his face.

"It's charmed to stay on until your blemish is gone," Narcissa informed him. "It's nothing like that dreadful Muggle woman you used to live with wears. You'll never notice it - or need to reapply it."

"I suppose you can put it on my scar, then," Harry said dubiously. "Just-please don't make it all gloppy-like?"

"I won't," she reassured him gravely, fighting down a smile.

"Narcissa!" Bella gasped as her sister swept Harry's fringe to the side. "Is that-is-"

"No," Harry retorted. "I'm a /Peverell/." He flinched at the cold, creamy feel of the charmed cover-up. "It's much better than being a Potter."

Bella watched in fascination. The famous lightning bolt scar was rapidly disappearing under Cissa's deft ministrations. With an unmarked forehead and those rectangular wire-rimmed glasses, the boy could easily be someone other than the celebrated 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

"Have a look, dear," Cissa said, conjuring up a hand mirror.

Harry stared at his forehead in the mirror. "Wow," he breathed. He touched a finger to the hidden scar tentatively. "Thanks, Narcissa."

Cissa staggered a little as the skinny boy threw his arms around her exuberantly. "You're welcome, Harry dear." She smoothed his messy hair with a fond smile.

Bella visibly shook herself. Harry was right. He was a Peverell, not a Potter. If her Lord could accept him with open arms, she could as well.

"Bella?" Harry had noticed her distracted gaze. "Do I still have something on my face?"

"No, dear," she reassured him. "But that bird thatch you call hair must go."

Alarmed, his hands flew to the top of his head.

"She doesn't mean to scalp you," Narcissa told him. She glanced askance at her devious sister and said under her breath, "As far as I know."

"I'm going to charm that mess straight," Bella declared, brandishing her wand. "Morgana knows it needs it."

Harry rolled his eyes but stood patiently. A light, warm wind ruffled his hair and subsided, leaving him with tame, straight hair that fell to his shoulders.

Narcissa clapped. "Excellent!" She bent forwards and flicked strands of hair this way and that with practiced fingers. She frowned a bit. "Hmm. You're a bit young to have hair this long, dear. I'll cut it a little for you."

An amused laugh interrupted their machinations, and Harry ducked out from under Narcissa's reach and ran to the door.

"Rab!" he cried, relieved. "Did you come to rescue me?"

With a playful wink at Narcissa, he ruffled Harry's newly neatened hair. "I actually came to cheer you on. Moral support, and all that." He dropped an arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him in tight. "Changed his eyes yet?"

Bella giggled at Harry's efforts to free himself from Rab's grip. "We tweaked some of the vanity drops Severus brews for Narcissa when she goes to parties to be permanent, but we were still working on his hair."

"Traitor!" Harry cried. "You're supposed to be on my side. Don't let them keep playing dolls with my face," he pleaded.

"Sorry, Harry," Rab said. He slid inside the room, still holding tight to Harry. "You ladies want me to keep him here, or do you want him on the bed?"

"Rab!" Harry yelped.

"Just keep a hold of him a bit longer," Bella ordered her brother-in-law. Both Lestranges were sporting wicked grins.

Narcissa elbowed her sister aside. "What is our Lord planning, Rab?" she asked as she trimmed Harry's hair to a 'decent' length.

Rab shrugged. "He wants Severus and Augustus to work together on a project they'll present to the Wizengamot about the dangers of inter-breeding with Muggles. Something called jenticks, I think."

Harry giggled. "Genetics?"

"That's it," Rab confirmed.

"Eyes now!" Bella declared. She brandished several tiny glass bottles and a thin pipette at Harry. "Pick your colour, Harry."

Harry adjusted his spectacles and peered at the cramped writing on the labels. "Cer-cornflower? Coffee...gooseberry...jade...amber...pewter..." He looked up. "Which one's a lighter version of my eyes, Bella?"

Bella smiled. She was rather enchanted with his bright green eyes as well. "Why don't we use the jade, then? It's a very pale green."

Harry nodded, and she unscrewed the top of one of the bottles and stuck the pipette into the liquid, sealing the potion in the little tube with her forefinger. "Head back, lovey. Don't blink until I tell you." She swiftly let three drops fall into each eye. "Now."

"That stings," he said, blinking hard. The three adults watched his eyes lighten dramatically.

"Morgana," Narcissa said quietly. "You will be a handsome man when you grow up, Harry Peverell."

Harry grinned. "It worked?"

Rab pulled him closer for a moment in a brief hug, then let him go. "You look like quite the young gentleman."

"I have to go show Uncle Thomas!" Harry grabbed his cane from its resting place against his bookshelf and walked quickly from his room. He stopped a few paces down the hall, turned back, and said, "Thanks, Cissa! Thanks, Bella!"

"Should we feel sorry for Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix?" Rab asked the sisters bemusedly. "Their so-called saviour is our Lord's nephew."

"We should," Narcissa said dryly.

"We just don't," Bella concluded.

The three stared at each other for a long moment before bursting into laughter.

**

Lucius walked through the corridors of the Ministry's Hall of Records, sneering at the officials who looked at him with suspicion. Everything was alphabetized and stored in the shelves on the walls. He was still in the O's. He kept walking, public mask of genteel disdain prominent. P...P...Patil, Perks. There. He discreetly banished the file labelled 'Peverell' into the wall and watched in satisfaction as it glowed briefly white.

**

On the Hogwarts Registry, the name Harry Potter winked out of existence. A new name, Henry Peverell, was inscribed in its place.