A/N: I did say I wouldn't abandon it...it just took me a couple of years to update...*hides in shame*

The collar of Harry's robe rubbed uncomfortably, as they waited by the stone steps for Agatha to arrive. Being Hogsmead weekend, the castle was devoid of students, barring those who were not old enough, and as a result it had a strangely silent feel to it.

Dumbledore, who had not seen his great niece for nearly ten years, looked up eagerly at the sound of an approaching carriage.

It was an elaborately decorated vehicle, painted in colours of black and gold, and as it came to a halt in front of them, a young man jumped down from the side and opened the door.

"Agatha!" said Dumbledore, moving forward to embrace the woman descending the steps.

She was tall, with long black hair and grey hawk-like eyes, and as Dumbledore hugged her, she smiled displaying a set of perfectly white teeth.

"Ah of course, I haven't introduced you," said Dumbledore turning to Harry, "Agatha this is Harry Potter, Harry my great niece Agatha."

"Pleased to meet you" said Harry extending a hand. He thought he saw something of a frown momentarily cross her features at this gesture, but next moment it was gone as a young boy stepped out of the carriage beside her.

"May I introduce my son, Caleb" said Agatha, ushering him forward.

Once again Dumbledore hugged the boy, and once again Harry noticed a slight coldness in the way the second guest greeted him.

Thoroughly confused, he looked questioningly towards Dumbledore, but the elder man had already turned away to lead them inside.

As they walked along the corridor, Harry glanced at Caleb. The boy looked vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen him.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

Caleb raised an eyebrow at him, "I've been told I look like my grandfather" was all he said, as they turned into the great hall.

Frowning at this bizarre response, Harry followed him to a table laid out for them in the middle of the hall.

He pulled out the chair beside Dumbledore, but before he could even move, Agatha came and promptly sat in his place.

"Why don't you go and sit by Caleb?" she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Do help yourself Agatha" said Dumbledore, as Harry sat down.

The woman turned her nose up at the large pot of stew and loaf of bread in the middle of the table.

"I was under the impression that you had house elves in this castle uncle?"

"Yes, that is true, why?"

"Well, it's just such a shame that none of them seem to have any real culinary skills-"

Harry choked on his piece of bread.

"-our elves back home prepare at least 5 different dishes per meal" she said indicating the lone pot on the table.

Dumbledore looked slightly put out, "I can have them send up something more to your taste if you wish" he said.

Agatha pulled a face as she tried a spoonful of the stew.

"On second thought, perhaps it is best if I take a light lunch today."

Harry stared at her disbelievingly. How could anyone be so rude? And why did Dumbledore seem to take no notice of it?

"Well many of our elves have been rested recently, to prevent them from becoming exhausted during the year you understand," he said patiently, "perhaps they were not up to standard today."

"Elves given rest? What is this nonsense uncle? The whole point of elves is to serve witches and wizards, to work so that we may rest and relax. Mind you, I'm thinking of giving my lot clothes and sending them on their way. Sappy creatures, far too pathetic for my liking."

"There's nothing wrong with elves" Harry said fiercely. He was beginning to get irritated by her comments, particularly having struck up a close friendship with Binker.

"Now Harry," said Dumbledore gently, "that's no way to speak to guests."

Harry stared at the elder man, frowning. There was definitely something wrong here.

"No, let the boy speak Uncle," she said smirking, "I'm sure a seven year-old understands the wizarding world more than I do."

Glaring at her, Harry dropped his eyes to his plate without replying. Why wasn't Dumbledore saying anything?

Thankfully Hagrid chose that moment to enter the hall.

"Afternoon professor! Afternoon Harry!"

"Ah good afternoon Hagrid, what can we do for you?" replied the Headmaster.

"Well I'm jus' moving the hippogriff herd, and I thought young

Harry here might want ter help me."

"Yeah, I'll come!" said Harry at once, eager to get away from his current company.

"Why don't you take Caleb along with you," Agatha said from behind them, "I'm sure he'd enjoy spending time with someone his own age."

The younger boy didn't look too enthused about this prospect, but after a quick glance from his mother, he slid down from his seat and followed them both out of the hall.

"So Caleb," said Hagrid, clapping his reluctant helper on the back, "firs' time at Hogwarts from what Professor Dumbledore tells me? How do yeh like it?"

The young boy untangled himself from the gamekeeper's giant arm and looked around distastefully.

"It's alright I guess…" he replied none to enthusiastically.

Harry looked at him incredulously, alright? Hogwarts was surely the most incredible sight any young witch or wizard could ever experience. Hagrid however, merely chuckled good-naturedly at the reply.

The surface of the lake rippled suspiciously as they passed by, and Harry craned his neck trying to catch a glimpse of the giant squid. He was rewarded after a few moments, when a long tentacle rose up and snatched at a passing frog, before disappearing back into the murky depths of the water.

"All right boys," said Hagrid coming to a halt in front of them, "here they are."

Harry and Caleb peered around Hagrid's sizable frame, and caught sight of the dozen or so creatures grazing amongst the shrubbery near the gamekeeper's hut. Each hippogriff had been tied to thick wooden posts embedded into the ground, for which Harry was immensely thankful. Beautiful they might be, but Harry didn't fancy his chances against the long talons, and razor sharp beaks.

"This here is Silverwing" said Hagrid walking towards the hippogriff closest to them. They watched as he bowed low before her, and on receiving one in reply, moved forward to pat her fondly.

"She's a real beauty," he said, lifting a wing to show them her glistening silver feathers, "folk down at the Hog's head have been tryin' ter get me to sell her for ages, but I keep tellin em' she's not for sale. I raised her from an egg, and I plan on keepin' her. She's my favourite of the bunch too."

Fang, who had trotted out to greet the group, let out a displeased bark at seeing his master giving so much attention to the hippogriff.

"Now listen up you two," said Hagrid, turning to face them, "I'm going inside ter get some meat, and then I'll show you how we bait em' into their new homes. In the meantime, no messin' around, and I don't want you getting any closer to the hippogriffs than you are at the moment, understood?"

He waited for both boys to nod and, after instructing Fang to stay, strode off towards his cabin.

As soon as the half-giant was out of sight however, Caleb sidestepped Fang and moved towards the hippogriff herd.

"Hagrid told us to stay here" Harry called out, but the other boy wasn't listening. He had reached the wooden post where Silverwing was tied, and had taken hold of the knotted rope.

With one eye trained on the beast, Caleb untied the rope from the post. The hippogriff, who had so far been oblivious to his presence, looked up suddenly.

"What are you doing?" whispered Harry furiously.

Without replying, Caleb bowed, and then pulled on the rope. Silverwing lowered her head, and dug her heels into the ground, refusing to budge. As they both pulled in opposite directions, Harry saw the rope sliding over the hippogriff's neck.

"Stop it," said Harry moving forward, "it's coming loose!"

"That," said Caleb with a smirk, "is the point."

With one final tug, the rope slid over the hippogriff's head, and came off completely. For a moment Silverwing remained frozen where she was. Then suddenly, realising her newfound freedom, she took off galloping across the lawn and with a powerful sweep of her wings, soared into the air.

Harry stared dumfounded at her rapidly disappearing silhouette in the sky, before rounding on Caleb.

"What did you do that for!" he said angrily.

"Me?" said Caleb feigning a look of incredulity, "I didn't do anything. It was you."

He threw the rope he was holding towards Harry who caught it instinctively, just as Hagrid came back out of his cabin.

"Mr Hagrid!" said Caleb running towards him and pointing to the hippogriffs, "it's Silverwing, she's escaped!"

"Wha-' said Hagrid looking over to the where the creatures were grazing. Catching sight of Silverwing's empty post, the gamekeeper let out a great cry of despair.

"Silverwing," he cried, looking around desperately, "where'd she go?"

"What's going on here?" came a crisp voice from behind them.

Harry looked around and saw that Agatha and Dumbledore had finished their lunch, and had come outside to find them. Caleb moved to stand by his mother, and Harry thought he saw the briefest of looks pass between them, but next second it was gone as Hagrid sank, blubbering, to the ground.

"Silverwing, my poor beauty. Gone forever."

Dumbledore stepped forward, pulling out a purple handkerchief, and gave it to the half-giant.

"There, there, Hagrid" he said, patting him on the shoulder.

Agatha looked down at her son.

"What happened darling?"

The cunning expression Harry had seen earlier had vanished, and Caleb now put on a great show of looking frightened and confused as he answered his mother.

"I-I don't really know," he said in a shaky voice, "Harry thought it would be a good idea to try and fly on that thing, but when he untied the rope, it escaped."

"No I didn't" said Harry furiously. He felt everyone's gaze turn towards him.

"Why do you have that piece of rope in your hands Harry?" said Agatha suddenly.

"It was him," said Harry pointing a finger at Caleb, "he untied Silverwing and then threw the rope to me."

"I see…" said Agatha, clearly disbelieving of him.

He turned towards Dumbledore, but the headmaster seemed reluctant to get involved with the conversation.

"Harry...are you sure?" asked the old wizard softly.

Harry gaped at the elder man in disbelief. How could there even be a doubt in the headmaster's voice? Didn't he trust him?

Dumbledore was staring at the floor, whilst the gleam of triumph in Agatha's eyes gave away her otherwise impassive face. A horrible emptiness stole across Harry in the silence between them, and before anyone could speak, he turned and ran back towards the castle, trying to put as much space between himself and the headmaster as possible.

Only when he reached a set of deserted classrooms on the third floor did he stop. Panting heavily, he leaned back against the wall and almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking around, he saw the owner of the hand was in fact Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration professor.

"What are you doing here Harry?" she said surprised.

Harry remained silent, not wanting to talk about Dumbledore or about what had just happened. McGonagall raised an eyebrow when he failed to answer, but didn't press the matter further.

"Do feel free to come in," she said turning back towards the classroom. Harry followed her inside curiously. Since the students had returned from their holidays, he had tended to remain either in Dumbledore's quarters or his own when he returned from his tutoring. Despite the headmaster explaining who Harry was and his living arrangements in the castle, many of the students often stared at him as he passed, and being the subject of such scrutiny was something he greatly disliked.

"Ginger newt?" she offered, holding the tin in front of him.

Harry took one gratefully, and pulled up a chair from one of the desks near the front of the classroom.

"So," she said, indulging him with a rare smile,"Albus tells me you've been doing very well with your tuition. Are you enjoying it?"

Harry shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of biscuit.

"Yeah, I guess so…" he said half-heartedly.

Minerva waited patiently, sensing the boy had something more to say.

"It's just Mr Mortimer gets angry with me sometimes" he continued, "when I do things wrong, and I don't know why."

The deputy headmistress straightened slightly on hearing this, and made a mental note to speak to Dumbledore about Lucien's behaviour.

"They're really nice most of the time though" added Harry, seeing the older woman's concern.

The transfiguration professor gazed at Harry for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether to tell him something.

"Harry, both Lucien and Isabelle have only recently recovered from a very difficult period in their lives. They suffered the loss of their son Lawrence, who was brought before the Wizengamot, and convicted of death eater activities during You-Know-Who's reign of terror. He was sentenced to the Dementor's kiss. It broke Albus to have to make that decision as Chief Warlock, particularly given how close he was to the Mortimers, but the evidence against their son was irrefutable."

McGonagall paused here for a moment to gaze out of the window. She looked sad, Harry noticed, and it was something he was wholly unaccustomed to. During the few times he had seen her around the castle, she had always maintained her strict and professional persona. But he was beginning to see, like many of the professors who inhabited the castle, that she was a very different person outside of her classroom.

"I'm telling you this" she said, turning back to him, "because I think that having you around may be very difficult for them sometimes, a reminder of the son they lost, and maybe that is the reason Lucien loses himself from time to time. Then again perhaps it is something else entirely, I do not know."

Harry nodded, and realising he probably ought to be getting back to his quarters, wiped the last of the crumbs from his jeans and made towards the door.

"There is one more thing Harry," McGonagall said hesitantly as Harry reached the door, "you might find that during her stay, Albus will overindulge his niece Agatha."

"Why?" said Harry, thrown by the change in topic.

"Guilt," she said simply, "you see Lawrence Mortimer was Agatha's husband."