Though Harry has never been here like -- never as a wolf -- Northumberland is in him bone-deep and deeper. Even in this not-winter-not-spring season, he can smell it, what makes this place home, and his. The further north they've come, the more eager and excitable he's grown. When the castle walls came into view, it was all he could do not to race toward them, as fast his horse could go.

He beams at Kate as he pulls his horse up. "Beautiful old thing," he says, then cranes his neck up at the ramparts. "What ho! Wilt thou open, at long last?"