#wills

So what else do Liam's school pals remember about the young rock rebel?

The Daily Mirror tracked down all 12 of the boys in our exclusive picture and asked them What's Their Story on Liam's rise to fame and his turbulent childhood.

On the facing page the team tells all:

MARK SHENTON

Mark Shenton blames young tearaway Liam for introducing him to crime.

Builder Mark, 24, says: "By the time we'd moved to secondary school, we were nicking anything we could get our hands on."

"We were constantly skiving off and getting into trouble. Liam was one of the hardest lads in the year."

Dad-of-one Mark, who still lives on the rough Burnage council estate that Liam and Noel left behind, says he's lost touch with his old pal.

"He was one of my best mates. I last saw him 18 months ago at his mam's house but these days he's got no time for his friends.

"I used to go to Oasis concerts, but not now. Liam's sold out."

KEVIN BURKE

Sound engineer Kevin Burke couldn't believe it when he bumped into Liam four years ago at a recording studio. Kevin, 24, says the then unknown Oasis were rehearsing.

"To be honest, I didn't particularly like their music then and I still don't," he says. "I remember Liam being quite a hard kid at school - definitely Cock of the Year.

"But he was younger than me so I never paid him any attention. I went to a different secondary school so there wasn't any more contact until I saw him at the recording studio and we had a chat.

"Looking at Liam and all he's gone through, I think I'd rather be rich than famous."

ANDREW HOGAN

Andrew Hogan admits he's insanely jealous of Liam's fame and fortune - and wouldn't mind a slice of it himself.

To prove it, he greedily demanded four pretty models, a limousine, a Gucci watch, champagne, a tuxedo and pounds 200 before he'd have his picture taken by the Daily Mirror.

After much fuss and time-wasting on his behalf, he then refused to do the photograph.

Unemployed Hogan, 24, who still lives on the Burnage estate, then blasted his old pal Liam.

"What's Liam so good at?" he asked. "All he does is ponce about singing a few tunes, doing the V-sign to everyone and going on about Manchester City."

PATRICK DEVANE

Painter and decorator Paddy Devane says Liam loved to be the centre of attention from an early age. "He was always in the middle of fights," says Paddy, 24, from Burnage.

"I went to the pictures with him once and he ran on the stage and started touching the screen - everyone was going mad at him.

"He just used to lose his head every now and again. I know he loves women but underneath he's a softie.

"I knew Noel had brains but not Liam. I wouldn't know what to say if I saw him now - probably get an autograph for my sister. Oasis are all right but they should be careful not to spoil it all."

THOMAS RANAHAN

Thomas Ranahan, now languishing in his cell at HM Prison Haverigg, Cumbria, has to settle for hearing Oasis on the radio.

Not surprisingly, 24-year-old Thomas, inside for aggravated burglary, was unavailable for comment. But his mother, Mary, told the Mirror she has fond memories of Liam.

"He used to come round here for his tea. Thomas was a year older than Liam and he actually knew my other son Shaun better.

"Liam was a lovely lad, so polite and quiet ... never any trouble. He insisted on calling me Mrs Ranahan.

"When I read all this stuff in your paper, I can't believe it's the same little Liam."

DAMIEN O'TOOLE

Damien O'Toole was reluctant to reveal details of his friendship with Liam.

Art student Damien, 23, who now lives in Cheltenham, says: "If I were to talk about Liam, it would be betraying an old friend.

"I don't want to discuss those days - it was a long time ago and I consider it part of my private life."

But according to old school pals the two were as thick as thieves.

One mate said: "Liam and Damien were always larking around. Sometimes they'd get on your nerves because they'd never let up and it would be the same joke over and over."

And Damien's mum recalls: "Seeing the picture reminded me of how sweet they all were then."

MARK SARGINSON

Mark Sarginson has not only named his baby son after Liam but turned his home into a shrine to Oasis.

Jobless Mark, 24, who lives with wife Corinne and baby Liam, says: "I called my kid after him because he was such a good lad at school.

"He was quite shy but would always be there to back you up if there was any trouble.

"Oasis inspired me. My house is full of Oasis stuff, even my son's bedroom has posters and memorabilia everywhere."

Mark has started his own group with his three brothers. He says: "We haven't got a name yet. We play similar music to Oasis. I'd love to get Liam and Noel's opinion on it."

ROBERT FERRY

Many might disagree with him - but Robert reckons Liam has managed to keep his feet firmly on the ground despite his fame. Robert, 22, an engineering consultant in Manchester, says: "I was two years younger than Liam so we were never really part of the same crowd.

"But I really admire the fact that he still comes back home to see his mam and he goes to the local kebab house and drinks at the same pubs he did as a lad. It shows that he's down to earth and a real Burnage boy.

"I've been to see Oasis twice and I think they're very talented.

"But I would never go up to Liam and say `Hello' - he wouldn't remember me. It would be too embarrassing."

MICHAEL COLLINS

Liam was a spoilt brat who bullied other kids, says Michael Collins, a human resources adviser. "Our mams used to work together at the McVities factory," says Michael, 24. "But Liam and I were never that friendly.

"At the McVities Christmas party, he moaned about the present Santa gave him. He tried to wrestle away presents from the other kids and left a lot of them in tears."

Michael, who was captain of the football team, says Liam considered a career in soccer.

"We all had ambitions to be footballers but we all went on to other things. Oasis are very talented but Liam must be under a hell of a lot of pressure at such a young age."

ANTHONY WALSH

Anthony Walsh was with Liam when they both pierced their ears - with disastrous results.

"We used earrings we'd nicked from our mams," the 24-year-old lorry driver recalls. "We got two ice cubes, froze our ears and stabbed the earrings through. We had to wear plasters on our ears after that to cover them up."

Liam professes to idolise the late John Lennon, but that's not how Anthony remembers it. "Noel was the one in his bedroom listening to the Beatles and playing the guitar. Liam and I were into Ska."

On his last night out with Liam, they ended up at a drunken party. "We were 17 and getting up to all sorts. I did once try to say hello to Liam after an Oasis concert but I couldn't get near."

PATRICK BREEN

Patrick says he hardly had anything to do with Liam - because the future pop idol was an avid Manchester City supporter. "I wouldn't have been a friend of his because he and Paul Walsh were really into Man City," says Patrick, who works for a firm of chartered accountants in Manchester.

"I can't claim to be a good mate of Liam's - in fact, I barely remember him. But there was nothing remarkable about him. I would never have guessed that he would end up a singer."

Patrick says Liam was no different to most kids of his age.

"He did have a few scraps at school, but most kids do."

PAUL WALSH

Electrician Paul Walsh reveals Liam was taunted by other kids about his nickname - Wills.

"He hated it," says Paul, 24. "But the only time I ever saw Wills cry was when he started school and a kid hit him over the head with a mallet. After that he toughened up a bit.

"He was never actually the ringleader but was always involved in everything. He used to get really embarrassed when he was in the choir - he certainly wasn't a better singer than anyone else.

Could he even consider himself as having a home, now? Beacon was all but destroyed, Vale was in disarray and he wasn’t even there. Couldn’t be there. Would they even welcome his eleven-year-old self, though? They hadn’t been happy when he first showed up, so disappointed in the fact that he was small and sickly. That he limped and had vision issues… that he was everything Ozymandias wasn’t.

Those issues were still there, for all that his aura helped. He didn’t yet have the stamina he had as an adult, he couldn’t even hide the symptoms as he could back then. He was more emotional now than he had been later, too, though that might have more to do with the fact that he almost felt safe, here in Atlas. It was strange, he had been welcomed so lovingly into the family he couldn’t even remember, offered so much. He didn’t deserve it, not really… how could he? They’d been so happy to have their missing member back, but though he looked more or less as he must have done when he was first snatched, he couldn’t be that child anymore. Too much had happened between then and now, and he was terrified that soon enough, they would all see it.

He wasn’t certain how he would deal with the eventual rejection, the hatred that he’d been expecting to have already received. The others had despised him for weeks, back in Mantle… how could his family love him? Surely he didn’t deserve it, he was putting them all in danger through his existence.

Oh, he knew that a lot of this was the nightmares speaking. The horrific images he saw sometimes, when he closed his eyes. Old images of those previous incarnations had loved, tortured and broken by Salem and her people. The same images, but bearing the faces of his family, his friends. Qrow, though he’d always been well represented in those sorts of dreams. At least Qrow could probably look after himself, even if he’d had to learn second hand about just what he’d gone through by Tyrian’s hands. He’d come so close to losing him, and he might never even have known exactly what had happened. He shuddered, thinking about that. It would have been Summer all over again. And just like Summer, he would have been blamed by the others almost as much as he’d always blamed himself.

How much of this was nerves about today? Willow had told him that they needed to visit the lawyer’s office, that there were things they needed to go through now Jacques was dead. That didn’t make any sense, though. His late, entirely unlamented brother-in-law had assumed that Tip was long dead. There should be nothing for him to sort out, unless Willow needed the moral support. But in that case, wouldn’t it be better just to take her children, or at least Winter? He suspected the others would be there, since they were Jacques’ children as much as they were hers, but still… why would they need to include him? Ah well, he’d probably find out.

He dressed quickly, grimacing at the inch or so of gap between the ends of his sleeves and his wrists. Things were starting to fit less well than they had in Mistral, but he wasn’t sure if he could justify new clothing right now. There were surely more important things than his growing pains? Though the idea of not being quite as small anymore certainly had its allure. He missed being able to be intimidating through height and presence alone. He could still flare his aura if he had to, but gone were the days most people saw hm as anything other than the child he currently appeared to be. Even his students sometimes seemed to forget that he wasn’t actually a little boy. Hell, even James had seemed oddly helpful since he’d arrived here, it an annoying and slightly patronising way. He doubted his friend meant to do it, but it was still galling after so long looking after himself.

Willow was waiting downstairs, along with Winter, Weiss and Whitley as he’d expected. That at least made sense, though he tried to ignore Winter’s raised eyebrow, tucking his hands behind his back in the vain hope that none of them would notice that he was growing out of the combat uniform he’d bought in Mistral. They were more or less his only clothing outside the set he’d worn to Jacques’ ball, but he couldn’t really afford a replacement. While he’d had a small stipend while he’d been head of Beacon, those funds would have been quickly reclaimed by the council, after all, they didn’t owe him money anymore. Not that most of what he was pretty sure was meant to be his salary had ever actually been paid out. He was all but certain that most of that had already been being rerouted, though he doubted very much if Glynda would stand for the same treatment in his place.

He really hoped they were okay, but it wasn’t like they’d welcome him either, like this. He was too small, too vulnerable. He shivered, thinking about it. Even with his aura, this less developed body presented a set of problems that he couldn’t fully work around. He was still sickly, got the same shakes he had as an adult with far less ability to hide them. His eyes were still very sensitive to any light, but he thought they might actually be slightly better at present? That was an odd thought, that his eyes could have gotten worse as he stayed at Beacon. He doubted the sunnier weather really did much to help that, though the way the snow reflected the light in Atlas wasn’t really much better.

How much damage had it truly caused, his time in Vale? Things ached differently now than they had when he was older, but though they weren’t the same, he thought that they ached less. He hadn’t really noticed just how much things hurt, sometimes. He was aware that Qrow and Glynda likely had, but… as said, it was far easier to hide things when he was an adult. He never wanted any of them to worry about him, he really wasn’t worth the attention.

“Oh, little uncle. Why didn’t you say anything? We’re going to have to go shopping, you need fitting clothing!” Winter sounded exasperated, even as Tip felt his cheeks heating up in mortification. He knew that this would happen, Winter had never really managed to rein in her protective instincts around him. He suspected a lot of that was due to Jacques, too, but it wasn’t like he could resurrect the man in order to kill him again even more slowly. He really wanted to at times, though. He’d always hated him before, but now? Knowing what he knew of the mess he’d made of his family… he could comfortably list him on the same page as Salem, of people he actually hated. Even the death that Jacques had been given wasn’t enough to make up for things.

“It’s not really that bad? They still sort of fit…” He trailed off as Weiss turned to glare at him too. If both of his nieces thought that he needed new clothing, he probably couldn’t really fight them on it. It didn’t help that there was a steely look in Willow’s eyes, too. He winced, looking away.

Winter’s eyes softened slightly at just how cute he looked, not that she was going to point that out to him any time soon. It was bad enough that others did, without her joining in on it. Her uncle knew how others viewed him by now, it wasn’t really a good idea to try to rub it in.

As they entered the lawyer’s office, Tip couldn’t help but marvel at just how open it was. The whole building was, actually. Even though it wasn’t really that old, it was obvious that the architecture took after a much older style, some of the brickwork looking rather like it had been recycled from other, older constructions. He was almost certain that one of his previous incarnations had seem a specific carving before, there had been a sudden rush of shock, though it had quickly faded away again. That had been happening more and more recently as the merge slowly recombined his soul with what he was going to term Ozma’s. It wasn’t really Ozma anymore, but there was no way to explain it in any other way. At least he’d been more or less shielded by Ozymandias for a while?

The man behind the desk nodded at Willow, smiling at Winter, Weiss and Whitley before turning to Tip and freezing. Tip squirmed slightly at his gaze, he was really getting quite tired of people he didn’t remember reacting like that, though he’d expected a lawyer to at least be better at hiding it.

“The rumours are true then?” the man breathed, eyes still on Tip, as though transfixed. “You really are Winter?” There was a strange hope in his voice that Tip didn’t really understand. Why would this man be so desperate to find him? What was going on, why hadn’t he asked more questions before they got here? Whatever this was, it was at least unlikely to be a trap. He was fairly certain his family wasn’t likely to do that to him.

“I… used to be.” Tip replied, tentatively. From the slight widening of the man’s eyes, he hadn’t been expecting Tip’s Valean accent, either. He wondered what exactly he’d heard, considering that he was very aware there were various rumours about his survival. He blamed James for some of those, but it wasn’t as though he could easily have hidden his connection to his family. Sooner or later, questions would have been asked anyway. He couldn’t regret what he’d done during Robyn’s party, but it had certainly bought his existence to the notice of a lot of people that he really didn’t need.

“Well, welcome back. It’s an honour to remeet you, young Master Schnee. Has your sister told you why you’re here today?”

That was an odd question, if he’d been expected, why was the man so shocked. Was it because he was a child right now? That was certainly a possibility, though surely he would have been warned in advance?

“She has not. Might I ask why you’re so shocked to see me?” Tip was very curious now, none of this really made very much sense.

“Ah. Well, we were warned that you’d be here, however… there have been imposters in the past. None of them were ever backed by your family, but… the possibility existed.” He sounded deeply apologetic. “Would you mind if we took a geneprint, just to confirm your identity? I recognise that you appear to be Winter Schnee, but… it’s better to be sure.”

“Of course not! That makes sense, though… there have been impersonators? Why?” The fact that anyone had pretended to be him was even more confusing. From the things he’d learned over the few months he’d been in Atlas, he hadn’t even necessarily been expected to survive into adulthood at all. He silently thanked his aura, again, for ensuring that he had… but, there had been those who had pretended to be him? Why, what was the point? As the oldest child, surely Willow had been the only heir?

Or… had she? Was it possible that the father he only really remembered in flashes had left something for him after all? Willow had told him that he’d never given up on the idea that he was still alive, but the thought was more than a bit uncomfortable. He held out a finger for the machine, blinking as a tiny needle took his blood then the screen flashed green. He was hoping that was a good sign, as opposed to it just reading the colour of his aura.

The man relaxed, all the tension seemingly draining out of him at once as he stared at the screen.

“Right, then. Well, I’m Celadon Abbott, by the way. I expect you don’t remember me, but I knew you when you were younger. The first time, that is. I’m glad the scan showed a positive result, I would have hated to end this on a more sour note. To answer just why there have been impersonators over the years, were you aware that your father split the SDC down the middle? Half of it has been in trust for you for the last two decades.”

Tip went white, shock and horror combining in his gut. He really didn’t have time to have anything to do with the Schnee Dust Company, he had too many other duties, too many responsibilities for that. He had half been expecting something was off by the way nobody would tell him what the meeting was about, but… he turned a betrayed gaze at the others, noting rather sourly that Winter was working very hard to keep a straight face.

They’d obviously known about this all along. Maybe he could pass it to Weiss? Though that was less than likely right now, he was certain that the lawyer would claim he was far too young to make that decision.

He sighed, as half of the argument he’d had for not bothering to replace his clothing evaporated, though… what would those in Vale make of this? Would they try to claim it, claiming that he belonged to them? He couldn’t help but voice the question, blinking as Mr Abbott’s eyes hardened to flecks of grey ice.

“What your father left for you is What your father left for you is yours, young Winter. Nobody else has any claim on it, though I’d welcome them to try. It might be rather interesting…” There was a threat to his tone, yet Tip couldn’t help but be slightly comforted by it.

He’d been so used to nobody caring enough to protect him, was this what it was like to truly have a home? Could he build one here, even knowing that Salem was likely to try to destroy it, in time?