Severus awoke the next morning and reached for his lover, but the bed was empty and the sheets beside him were cool to the touch. Harry’s dressing gown was folded neatly over the arm of a side chair. Severus was mildly surprised; he was normally a very light sleeper, but the calming draught they both ingested must have caused him to sleep sounder than usual.

He cocked his head, listening carefully but he heard no sounds inside the townhouse, just muffled street noise beyond the window. His sensitive nose caught the scent of freshly brewing coffee. Harry must be cooking again.

He was concerned about his young lover. Smethwyck had followed them to the privacy of the town house and cast healing charms on the obvious internal and external injuries, but it was Harry’s sanity the Potion Master was currently worried about. Harry had suffered years of sexual abuse and Severus hoped that the incident with Ron would not send him over the edge. The wizard kept too much locked inside of himself and that was not good for his mental health. Severus decided he would give Harry a little time to cope with the assault before broaching the subject of counseling.

The dark wizard paused at the closed kitchen door. He could smell coffee and the heavy scent of charred paper. As he touched the knob, a ripple of magic tickled his palm – a silencing charm.

Severus opened the door, his wand in a loose grip. A thick haze of smoke, exploding Howlers and what sounded like the Hogwart’s Owlery, assaulted his senses. His jaw dropped. There were dozens upon dozens of Postal Owls filling the air and perched on all surfaces of the small kitchen, hooting somewhat indignantly for someone to relieve them of their burdens. Perched on a curtain rod were Aconite and Hedwig, both visibly distressed at the sudden invasion of their domain.

Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen, the remains of exploding Howlers at his feet. The slender wizard seemed to be somewhat amused by the chaos around him. As he relieved an owl of its correspondence, he gave each item a cursory glance before depositing it into one of three piles – "Severus Snape", "Harry Potter" and "Corvus Corax". Howlers he simply tossed into the air, ignoring their verbal explosions.

Severus brushed a stray feather from his lank black hair, taking in the mayhem. Harry gave him an impish smile.

"I could use a little help here, Sev."

Severus set aside the morning edition of "The Daily Prophet" and stabbed at his mediocre breakfast, express ordered from a Diagon Alley Take-Away. With the invasion of the owls, the kitchen would need a through cleaning before Harry would ever consider cooking anything in there again. Owls were still arriving, but at a much slower pace, not the earlier onslaught of thirty or forty at a time.

The Ministry of Magic controlled newspaper was filled with frivolous articles and photographs of the Ministry Ball. Severus skimmed these with little interest. He cared little what designer robe was worn by which society maven and Cornelius Fudge managed to insert himself into nearly every photograph. Severus noted with amusement that although he and Draco were one of the few wizards awarded an Order of Merlin above the Third Class, their presence was blatantly missing from the pages.

What did interest him were several side-bar articles buried in the inside pages. "Prophet" reporters were sometimes able to tuck in a story or two of actual relevance to the informed reader. The missing savior, Harry Potter, was featured in two of them – one a glowing account of his defeat of "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" and the second a complete transcript of both his letter to Fudge and Ministry Decree Twenty Eight Thousand Seven Hundred and Thirty One. A third article was a rehash of the original story run weeks before in "The Quibbler" listing the names of witches and wizards who had had their lives destroyed and reputations tarnished by callous M.O.M. actions.

The Potion Master blinked at the headline screaming from the sports page – "Drunken Cannon’s Keeper Suspended Pending Investigation". Beside the article were several photographs headed by a warning to squeamish readers to not look. There was a moving photograph of a bleeding Corvus Corax pinned to the restroom floor by an angry Ron Weasley. Draco, with wand drawn entered the frame just before Oliver barreled in, tackling Ron.

The older wizard grimaced at the second photograph, showing Corvus being slammed face first into the tile floor when tackled from behind by Ron. From the angle of the graphic photo, it looked as if the attack was entirely unprovoked.

The article was filled with misinformation, but Severus was gratified to see that the attack was listed as an assault, not as an attempt at rape. Harry, in his guise of Corvus, did not need his private life splashed across the pages of a useless rag. Source after source was quoted citing Ron Weasley’s growing history of violent behavior. The owners of the Chudney Cannons expressed their regret and apologized to both of the victims of Weasley’s malicious attack – St. Mungo’s Apprentice Corvus Corax and Photographer Colin Creevey.

Harry rested his chin on the top of Severus’ head. He handed him "The Quibbler".

"Luna and her father wrote some very nice things about you." Harry’s finger pointed to a lengthy article listing Order of Merlin recipients by class, their contributions to the war effort and a brief synopsis of their post-war activities. For once, the article did not gloss over the personal danger, ongoing public hatred and moral crisis suffered by wizards selfless enough to have risked torture and certain death to spy deep inside the Death Eater organization.

A long article dealt with Harry, his war efforts and the personal demons that caused his withdrawal from the wizarding world. Lovegood was blunt about the questionable subject matter of the Muggle cologne advertisement that caused so much heartache. He quoted a number of respected Muggle experts who attempted to give insight into the bizarre Muggle practice of using the illusion of sex to sell products. To give his story balance, Lovegood also quoted outraged responses by the staunchly "moral majority". But Lovegood did not blame Harry for his lapse of judgment; he portrayed the entire incident as a tragedy. A Muggle-raised orphan, thrust into a world he did not understand at the age of eleven, could not possibly have known the unwritten moral expectations drilled into a pureblood child from infancy. Lovegood ended his article with an admonishment, not of Harry, but of an educational system at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that offered no real-life training for Muggleborn students.

"Mistaken Identity Leads To Arrest of Quidditch Player", Severus read. "The Quibbler" used only one photograph – that of Healer Smethwyck kneeling beside a visibly bruised and bleeding Corvus, a protective Draco hovering in the background. Luna handled the article sensitively, with none of the gossip-rag mentality usually associated with "The Daily Prophet". The dark eyes scanned the brief story.

"The diminutive Mr. Corax, who bears a striking resemblance to Harry Potter"..."Unprovoked attack"...Mr. Weasley, with his history of violence"..."Tried to reason with him, said Mr. Creevey"..."Use his fame to escape justice"..."Suspended pending thorough investigation"..."Mr. Corax was rushed to St. Mungo’s for treatment of two broken wrists, a broken nose and jaw."

Severus looked up from the tabloid, meeting Harry’s bright green eyes. Although Smethwyck had cast healing charms, the bruising was still quite severe. The blue-black discoloration stained his pale skin. Harry swept his hair back nervously, thick purplish-black bruised bracelets marring both wrists.

"When exactly were you rushed to St. Mungo’s with broken wrists?" Severus asked conversationally and Harry shrugged.

"Creative license, I guess...under the guise of objectivity, Luna’s made Ron out to be even more of a monster than that "Prophet" photo showing me slammed face first to the floor. Wonder how Ron’s enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame?" Harry poured himself a cup of tea. "I guess it’s time to sort through all this correspondence."

Severus looked up from his small pile of correspondence as a Postal Owl delivered still another Howler. Harry’s amusement had long since faded. Owls had been delivering mail sporadically all morning, the majority of the post addressed to Corvus.

As the Howler completed it’s tirade and exploded into a pile of red confetti, Harry looked up tiredly. "I am really beginning to hate Quidditch. That has to be the eightieth one berating me because Ron was suspended from the Chudney Cannons. It’s hardly my fault the Cannons may lose their chance at the championship because of it."

"Is that the gist of most of those letters?" Severus asked, looking at the growing pile of unread parchment littering the library table. If that was the case, Harry could just as easily dispose of it all, unread.

"A few of them are from Quidditch fans expressing their outrage, not necessarily with me, but at the situation and the management of the Cannons has sent us four season passes to the Top Box as well as their deepest apologies. I am planning to send them to one of the Ministry Orphanages – the orphans will like to see a Cannons game – Merlin knows I don’t ever expect to attend one." Harry tossed a handful of letters into the fireplace. "I’ve received a number of Get Well cards and vials of bruise reducing potions as well as a marriage proposal or three....Oh Merlin..."

Harry paused, inhaling a quivering breath, the color gone from his face.

"What is it, love?" Severus asked.

"This...um...fan...thinks I should be gang raped by members of the entire Professional Quidditch Association as a punishment to teach me not to seduce innocent wizards..."

"Give me that." Severus barked sharply, examining the messily written parchment. He noticed it had, of course, been sent anonymously.

Bill Apparated in mid morning to check on Harry’s condition and apologized profusely for his brother’s violent attack, but the Cursebreaker could not stay for more than a few minutes. The Weasley men attempted to conceal the news of Ron’s latest crime from his mother, but Molly had found out when The Burrow was flooded with Postal Owls and Howlers. Her already fragile emotional health crumbled; Bill didn’t know if the witch would shatter if she discovered Corvus Corax was actually her missing Harry.

On his hands and knees, Harry scrubbed the kitchen floor in true Muggle fashion. Aunt Petunia would have been so proud. Severus had cast several strong Scorify Charms to remove all traces of the earlier owl invasion but Harry was not content. He desperately needed to cook to calm his frayed nerves, but he was not yet satisfied all traces of the avarian contamination were removed. Severus watched his young novice sadly, wishing Harry would lower the wall he had rebuilt around his feelings.

A haughty Ministry of Magic Postal Owl landed on Harry’s immaculately scrubbed countertop and held out its leg.

"Not another effing bird," Harry cursed, nerves gone. Severus untied the scroll and broke the official seal.

"The Aurors have summoned you to the Ministry for questioning. We have just enough time for a quick shower and shave."

Harry settled gingerly into a plain wooden chair in a Ministry of Magic interrogation chamber. Healing spells or no healing spells, his bottom was still tender. His wand had been confiscated as a matter of routine, so Harry could not cast a simple cushioning charm on the hard slats.

Beside him perched Madam Jones and Severus. A Junior Auror attempted to order the ancient Healer and the Potion Master from the room, but they steadfastly refused, citing their Master/Apprentice privileges. Madam Jones’ distrust of the Ministry bureaucracy ran even deeper than it did in the two wizards.

Kingsley Shacklebolt mulled over his notes while idly toying with a teaspoon. Back from his forced sabbatical as a Hogwarts DADA instructor, the bald Auror sipped on herbal tea and tried to determine the best way to diffuse the latest debacle of Ronald Weasley.

Kingsley hated himself and the onerous task that awaited him, but Arthur Weasley was his oldest friend and he would do whatever it took to keep Arthur’s youngest son out of Azkaban. His eyes were drawn to "The Daily Prophet" photograph showing Corvus Corax being slammed to the floor and Kingsley felt uneasy. Growing up, Ron had always been quick tempered, but the boy had never been vicious. He did not understand what had changed Ron and each time the redhead tangled with the law, the charges grew more serious. It was getting harder for Kingsley to cover up the trail.

The burly Auror scowled as he leafed through a thin dossier. Investigators could find almost no information on Corvus Corax. The young man seemed to have appeared from thin air the moment he began his apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s. It didn’t give Kingsley much to go on; he needed to find a chink, a past history, a secret about the wizard that he could exploit. Fear of public ridicule had kept Ron’s last three victims from pressing charges.

Through a one-way glass, Kingsley examined the wizard in question. He was a tiny thing that looked as if a breeze would topple him, but the black wizard knew he had to be made of stronger stuff. Dual apprenticeships were extremely rare and Kingsley knew that neither Siobhan Jones nor Severus Snape would waste their knowledge on a fool.

"The Quibbler" article was correct. The young wizard did bear a striking resemblance to the missing Harry Potter, but Kingsley knew this could not possibly be Harry. Corvus’ hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, revealing a heavily bruised right jaw and cheekbone but his forehead was unmarked by any curse scar. A discrete Revealing Charm cast by another member of the team showed the presence of only one glamour – a charm used to straighten and lengthen curly hair. A Glamour Charm might make a wizard vain, but it did not make a wizard evil.

The Auror examined the other two occupants of the room. He had known Severus for years. While an acknowledged Dark Wizard, Severus’ reputation as a master brewer was impeccable. Kingsley did not particularly like the tall man, but he had always trusted him. Siobhan Jones’ reputation as a Healer and Potion Mistress was unsurpassed in the modern wizarding world. There had once been nasty rumors that she was related to Grindlewald, but anyone meeting the wizened witch knew the rumors had to be false.

Both were considered to be the best of the best; Corvus Corax had to be an extraordinary wizard to have caught the attention of both of them. Why was it then that the young man seemed to have no past?

Cornelius Fudge hid in his office, ignoring the growing piles of correspondence toppling over his In Basket. Beyond his door, his harried assistants struggled with a room filled with angry owls and exploding Howlers.

The Minister flattened the crumpled morning newspaper. How dare the Lovegoods defend that Potter boy? Couldn’t they see that what he had done was disgusting and immoral? The pompous wizard read the article again, a harsh smile twisting his features. He would foist all the blame squarely on Albus Dumbledore and Hogwarts. Then he could offer Harry Potter...he scowled. What could he possibly offer Potter? Certainly not an apology; the boy admitted he accepted money to pose half naked with a man.

A bedraggled assistant opened his door, bearing another basket brimming with parchments for the Minister’s attention. The screaming Howlers from the office beyond echoed off his walls. They condemned him for censuring a poor orphan, for not protecting their innocent savior, for being an idiot. Call after call came for his resignation.

An owl flew into the open doorway and perched on the Minister’s paper strewn desk. The bird seemed to dare him to ignore her. With a sigh, he removed the scroll of parchment. It bore the official seal of the Wizengamot.

Kingsley strode into the interrogation chamber, his face impassive. He indicated Harry should move to another chair, one away from his mentors and beside a sturdy wooden table. He cautioned Madam Jones and Severus not to move. He would permit them to stay in the interrogation room, against his better judgment, only if they remained silent. Master/Apprentice privilege notwithstanding, he could and would order them forcibly removed.

The large wizard placed a vial of Veritiserum on the table beside his pile of folders. The Auror noticed Harry’s eyes narrow at the sight of the potion. The young wizard had immediately identified what the vial held – certainly well versed in his potions knowledge.

Shacklebolt carefully measured the Veritiserum into an eyedropper. He motioned Harry to lean forward.

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue, Mr. Corax."

"No," Harry replied. He looked to Severus for support.

"This is standard procedure. I just need to ask you a few questions."

"I will not ingest the Veritiserum, Mr. Shacklebolt. I am the victim, not the perpetrator. I refuse to be drugged."

Kingsley’s eyes narrowed at the open defiance. Seeing Severus begin to rise from his chair, Kingsley swiftly cast a charm placing Severus and Madam Jones behind a security ward. They could still hear the proceedings, but the ward was one-way. Harry could see them, but no longer hear them. Trapped behind the barrier, they were prevented from rushing to his defense.

Harry’s startled protest was silenced by the look in Kingsley’s eyes. In that moment, Harry realized what a dangerous man Kingsley Shacklebolt really was. The large bald wizard rose to his full height. He rocked back and forth on his heels.

"I will not play games with you Mr. Corax. If you are unwilling to answer a few simple questions, I will be forced to drop all charges against Ronald Weasley. I do not have all day – make up your mind."

Harry’s eyes flickered to his trapped companions and then to the door behind the Auror. He was wandless and on his own. He licked his lower lip. How had he ever considered Kingsley to be a reasonable and affable wizard?

"I-I did not refuse to answer your questions. I am merely refusing to do so under the unwarranted use of Veritiserum."

Kingsley ceased rocking. With surprisingly quick reflexes for such a large man, Kingsley pulled Harry over the back of the chair, trapping him in a headlock. He forced Harry’s mouth open and placed three drops of the potion on his tongue.

"Wrong answer, Mr. Corax. Swallow."

"Sit down." Kingsley ordered sharply. He could taste Harry’s terror from across the table. Witnesses didn’t usually question the use of Veritiserum unless they were hiding something or lying and Kingsley knew Corvus Corax was not lying about being sexually assaulted by Ron. That could only mean the young wizard was hiding something he was desperate not to have revealed. Kingsley gave a predatory grin. Let the games begin.

Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to find his center. He could feel the edges of his mind blur as the effects of the forced potion took control. Behind the barrier, Severus looked at Madam Jones. He could not bear to watch the terrified face of his lover and know he was powerless to save him. Madam Jones pushed against the invisible shield. Even her considerable wandless magic could not alter it.

"Please state your name." Kingsley barked, a Quick Quotes Quill poised above a blank parchment. He wanted this interrogation over – victim willing or not.

Harry squared his shoulders, opening his eyes. The glassiness showed the Veritiserum had taken its desired effect. He licked his lower lip again, wishing for a glass of water.

"Please state your name," Kingsley ordered again, this time a little less harshly.

"Corvus Corax."

Severus and Madam Jones exchanged a look of veiled surprise. They had both seen the potion administered and it was impossible to lie while under its influence. How had Harry circumvented it?

"That is your full name?"

"Yes sir."

"Are you a Muggleborn? I do not recognize the surname of Corax."

"It is not my real name." Harry replied, trying to focus his slightly glazed eyes. There was no hint of deception in his tone.

"What is your real name then?"

"I do not know." Harry replied simply.

"You know that Corvus Corax is not your real name and yet you do not know your real name? How can this be?"

"Before I was two years of age, Death Eaters murdered my family. I was discovered injured, but alive by a Muggle, not a wizard. When no one claimed me, I was placed in Muggle foster care. If they gave me a name, I do not know it."

"The family that fostered you – did they name you?"

"Not exactly. On good days they called me ‘Boy’ and on bad days they called me ‘Freak’."

"Did you name yourself then?" Kingsley could not imagine a child brought up with no name. What kinds of creatures were these Muggles?

"No. Uncle Leon named me when I was six."

Severus’ shoulders sagged. Depending upon how Kingsley asked his questions, Harry’s entire sordid history would tumble past his lips. He wondered how long it would take for Kingsley to discover he had the missing Harry Potter within his grasp.

"It was nice of him to finally give you a name."

Harry shrugged. "He had to call his pet something, didn’t he?"

Kingsley’s eyes widened. He found himself staring at the angry faces behind the ward. The young man could not have just implied what Kingsley thought he did.

"Excuse me, Mr. Corax. His pet?"

Harry looked angrily into Kingsley’s face, unable to stop his tongue from answering the question. "A pet name for his rosy, cozy little kitten...my Uncle Leon was a pedophile."

Severus heard Madam Jones gasp and saw Kingsley stare at the parchment before him. Harry had buried his face in his hands, ashamed he could not fight the Veritiserum.

"Your guardians permitted this to happen?" Kingsley sputtered.

"Of course," Harry replied coldly. "Why wouldn’t they? I was nothing to them and he paid them very well...for years."

Kingsley felt his stomach lurch. He had the damaging secret he had sought, but the secret was beyond his comprehension. Wizarding children were precious; they were rarely abused. At the height of their atrocities, Death Eaters murdered children, but even they drew the line at rape.

The bald Auror collected himself. There had to be another secret hiding behind those beautiful green eyes. His supervisors would have his head if he threatened to expose a victim of pedophilia to the public at large.

Harry could feel the effects of the Veritiserum beginning to fade, but not enough that he could control his responses. He could not look at Severus, still trapped behind the wards; the dark wizard must think him weak to spill his secrets so easily.

Kingsley positioned his Quick Quotes Quill above a fresh parchment. When Corvus Corax revealed his abuse by his "Uncle Leon", Kingsley noted the reaction of the duo behind the wards. Madam Jones was suitably horrified, but Severus was livid. He had not been shocked by the revelation, but by its disclosure. Severus had already known about the years of abuse and Kingsley suspected that that was why Corvus Corax’s past was nearly nonexistent. People often thought the Potion Master to be heartless, but Kingsley knew that it wasn’t true. Severus must have used his numerous contacts to alter history, to protect his novice in any way he could and the assault by Ronald Weasley threatened to expose the distasteful truth.

Harry sipped at a cup of water, hoping it had not been spiked with additional serum. He waited for the bald wizard’s next line of questioning with trepidation.

"Mr. Corax, what is the nature of your relationship with Severus Snape?"

Harry bit on the inside of his mouth to slow the words that wanted to tumble from his lips. He looked at Severus and gave him a weak smile.

"I am his apprentice and his companion."

"And this companionship? Is it of a sexual nature?" Kingsley leaned back, gauging the reactions of the other occupants.

"On occasion." Harry wanted to bite his own tongue off.

"Did Master Snape offer the apprenticeship on the condition that you permit him sexual liberties?"

"Oh no, Mr. Shacklebolt. Severus is an honorable man. When he discovered I had been abused as a child, he tried to offer counsel, but that was not what I wanted." Harry smiled. "I seduced him."

With the effects of the Veritiserum dissipating, Kingsley lowered the wards, but kept his wand at ready against the unarmed trio. Madam Jones was indignant, huffing angrily at the Auror. Severus wore his usual emotionless mask, thinking of a suitable hex to use on his former comrade once his wand was returned. Kingsley debated whether he should just Oblivate himself and the trio and be done with it.

Harry skittered away from the table and tucked himself under Severus’ protective arm. He didn’t care if he looked like a child. He gave the Auror a calculating look.

"So, Mr. Shacklebolt...In the course of the past hour you have asked me a series of inappropriate and extremely personal questions and not one of them dealt with Ronald Weasley and his attack upon my person. If the purpose of this interrogation was to provide you blackmail material, I have unfortunately provided it to you by the bushel-full. So, let’s cut to the chase..."

"I..."

"Arthur Weasley is a very important wizard in the Ministry and you the godfather of several of his children. I imagine you are getting very good at damage control. It is clear that you have absolutely no intention of bringing Ron Weasley to justice...You’ve managed to silence all his previous victims. So tell me, Kingsley, what are you prepared to offer for my silence?"

Harry sat at a small table in the Ministry of Magic Atrium, sipping on tea and nibbling on a biscuit Madam Jones insisted he eat, to help counteract the side effects of the Veritiserum. She and Severus sat beside him in silence. They could hear snippets of conversation as witches and wizards hurried past, returning to work or late for appointments.

The glass dome of the Atrium, like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, was charmed to show the sky beyond. Harry could see swarms of Postal Owls, some circling and others perched on the decorative iron fretwork supporting the dome. From the ill-concealed mirth of the Ministry workers, it was obvious that both Minister Fudge and the prominent members of the Wizengamot were being inundated with postal owls, admonishing them for their heavy handed and cruel treatment of "The Boy Who Lived" and demanding the Ministry Decree be dissolved.

Harry found it hard to swallow the biscuit. He should feel grateful for the support being shown to him, but for Harry it was too little and too late. Where were these owls two years ago when he truly needed their support to fight his exile? He had no use for the opinions of the fickle wizarding population.

Madam Jones re-filled his mug from a large stoneware teapot and looked at him expectantly. Harry knew neither Madam Jones nor Severus would back away from their unspoken questions. He returned her gaze.

"We saw Shacklebolt administer the Veritiserum. You were under it’s influence, were you not? You have no innate immunity to the potion, do you?"

Harry set aside the biscuit; it tasted like so much sawdust in his mouth anyway.

"To my knowledge, there is no innate immunity or antidote possible against Veritiserum. Believe me, if I could have controlled what came out of my mouth, my ‘Uncle Leon’ never would have come to light."

"Too bad that bastard is already dead. I would have loved to castrate him along with Vernon Dursely," Madam Jones muttered softly as she squeezed a slice of lemon into her newly refreshed mug of tea. "When he asked you your name, you lied to him. That is not supposed to be possible while under Veritiserum."

"I didn’t lie, Madam Jones." Harry’s palm patted his chest. "Inside I am Corvus Corax. I have been Corvus Corax since I was six years old."

"I don’t understand..."

"Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived? He has never been real to me. He was just a freak who lived in the Dursley’s cupboard. He was the victim of child pornographers. He was just a weapon for Albus Dumbledore to use to win his war. I played the role of his tragically flawed savior to the best of my ability for seven years..."

"An award winning performance," Severus interjected blandly.

"Yes, it was, wasn’t it? But Harry really isn’t me. Corvus Corax was loved and protected by Leon Shaw, even if the price of his protection was high. And Harry, poor Harry, used and abused, murdered by a wizard he thought was his friend."

Madam Jones and Severus exchanged a look, wondering if this bizarre conversation revealed a young wizard finally driven over the edge of sanity into madness. The novice looked at both of his sponsors and understood their consternation. He gave them a short, mirthless laugh.

"I am not crazy, you know, although it appears that I am. I have divided myself into two distinct characters for years as a defense mechanism. My therapist is aware of my dichotomy and although he hopes I can someday merge the two, he does not view it to be signs of mental illness.

"Once I realized Kingsley meant to administer Veritiserum, and I would be given no right of refusal, I tucked Harry into the back of my mind to keep him safe. I forced my mind to segregate itself. If I truly believed I was Corvus Corax, then I could truthfully answer all of his questions. Unfortunately, both Harry and Corvus share an overlapping history of sexual abuse..."