As it happened, McGonagall had been right. It had not been long at all before the carriages arrived and the returning students descended upon the previously empty school in a swirl of noise and chaos. Everywhere were students shaking snow off their cloaks and stamping mud and ice off their boots as they greeted each other boisterously and made inquiries about the just-past holidays.

Harry waited for his friends in his usual spot at the Gryffindor table with just a touch of apprehension and a great deal of impatience. He was just beginning to wonder if they were ever going to get around to finding him when they burst through the open doors of the Great Hall. Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face when he saw them.

Hermione smiled brightly and began waving energetically. She was not content until Harry had waved back, and even then Harry was certain that she had used her prefect status to cut a path through the milling students over to him. “Hello, Harry!” she exclaimed as she bounced up to him. “How were your holidays?”

“All right, thanks. Yours?” Harry didn’t really want to discuss what had happened over break and he didn’t want to think about the fact that he had just lied to one of his best friends.

“Great, thanks.”

“Harry, mate!” Ron slapped him on the back. “How are you?”

“Fine thanks,” he replied.

Before he could make his own inquiries Harry found himself greeting Neville and Ginny and even Luna drifted up to him. “I’ll send you an owl,” she promised him before wandering over to the Ravenclaw table, although he wasn’t quite sure why that was so important. He finally just decided that if she wanted to keep in touch he wouldn’t really object. He owed her, he supposed, for assuring him that he wasn’t loosing his sanity last year. Funny as that statement sounded.

Harry didn’t have long to spend on the incongruous thought, however, because Dumbledore was calling for everyone to take their seats. “I’d like to welcome you all back to Hogwarts,” the smiling, old wizard said. “I sincerely hope that you’ve all had most excellent holidays and that you’ve gotten your brains ready to cram lots of new knowledge into. Not forgetting that your end of term exams are cumulative, of course.”

He twinkled knowingly at them. “But fortunately those final exams aren’t for quite a while yet, so on that happy note, I’ll let you all eat.” He gestured emphatically and the tables were suddenly filled with practically anything a hungry teen could want.

“Harry,” Ron said around a mouthful of chips. “Why were you glaring at Dumbledore?”

“I wasn’t,” Harry said.

“I saw you,” Ron said in surprise.

“Impersonating basilisks again, Harry?” Ginny asked airily.

“Something like that,” Harry muttered. His joy at seeing his friends again seemed suddenly far less fulfilling than it previously had.

“Well, you’ll just have to tell us about it later, eh?” Neville said. “We want to hear all about your holidays, you know.”

“I didn’t really do much,” Harry replied evasively.

“What, no pranks? No portable swamps?” Ginny asked. “Gred and Forge would be most disappointed in you.” She gave him an examining and reproachful look that reminded Harry inordinately of the manner in which McGonagall looked over her glasses at miscreants.

He smiled a little but shrugged. “It’s been pretty empty around here. Why don’t you tell me what you guys did, instead?”

They started off slowly and with many exchanged glances, but eventually his friends began telling him all about their vacations, and the recounting managed to get them through dinner and back to the common room. Neville was just finishing up an amusing story about a plant that he had been breeding that suddenly and unexpectedly showed a definite propensity to mimic Muggle Christmas lights. “Great Uncle Algie kept trying to take it down, but every time he got one section loose another had taken root again.”

When they had stopped laughing and were leaned back against the couches and chairs they occupied near the fire just breathing Ginny looked carefully around the room. “Okay, Harry. It’s just us now. Spill.”

He was a little taken aback at how abruptly she began demanding answers, but after a few minutes thought, he decided that really he owed them something. After all, they had put up with his evasiveness all last term. And he really wanted a chance to complain to someone who wouldn’t try to make him be responsible and see that maybe Snape hadn’t meant to hurt him. If nothing else, he could depend on his friends, most of them anyway, to roundly curse the man, strictly figuratively speaking now that the twins were gone, and give him lots of sympathy.

“I suppose,” he began hesitantly. “I suppose it really begins at the end of last term, right after we got off the train in London. You may remember, a couple of the old crowd decided to have a chat with my Uncle.”

Hermione nodded, and then frowned. “He didn’t, well, they didn’t do anything, did they?” she asked.

“Not exactly. You see, they left.”

“What?” Ron sat up straight.

“For Merlin’s sake, Ronald, keep your voice down,” Ginny hissed, flicking her wand in the gesture for a conversation bubble.

Ron glared at his sister for a split second before he said, “What do you mean they left?”

“They went to Majorca, on holiday. I wasn’t invited. Long story short, I ended up spending the summer with Snape.”

“But why did they stick you with Snape? Instead of letting you stay at Headquarters or coming to the Burrow?”

Harry shrugged. “Apparently someone thought it was a good idea. He wasn’t so bad after a while. I even sort of thought we were…” Harry trailed off and stared into the fire.

“Thought you were what, Harry?” Neville probed hesitantly.

“I dunno. It doesn’t matter anyway. It turns out I was wrong.” His friends exchanged glances that he pretended not to notice over his head. “When we got back here, he was all buddy-buddy, and I thought everything was all right. Even when Malfoy started acting weird and palling around with me I didn’t suspect anything, but then, right after term ended, I found out.”

Harry broke off and shook his head furiously, eyes gleaming. “Turns out it was all an act. See, Malfoy wanted me to get his mother to accept custody, some loco parentis thing, from Sirius. And Snape wanted me to make friends with Malfoy so that maybe poor little rich boy wouldn’t turn out to be all Dark, and Dumbledore didn’t want Snape to tell me what was going on.”

Harry slouched further down in his chair. His friends were exchanging glances again. He tried to pretend it didn’t bother him.

“Well,” Hermione tried, “at least that explains why you were glaring at Professor Dumbledore.” Her smile was a wan, small thing and disappeared after a moment.

“So, you and Snape, you were, what, friends over the summer?” Ron asked slowly.

Harry snorted. “Well, I thought he wasn’t so bad, you know. He tutored me in potions a bit. And spoke to my Aunt and Uncle. And he didn’t lie to me. Not at first, anyway.”

Everyone was silent. “So, I take it you aren’t speaking anymore?” Hermione ventured.

“No,” Harry said emphatically.

“Speaking?” Ron mouthed at Hermione. She shook her head at him.

“Oh, you may as well tell him,” Harry said without looking at either of them.

“I don’t know everything, you know,” Hermione said. “Just that you were going to talk to him sometimes.”

“Is that what that remedial potions thing was?” Neville asked.

“Yeah.”

“But, if you only just stayed with him this summer, how come you were taking remedial potions last year, too?”

“Last year I was studying Occlumency. It didn’t work out at the time,” Harry grinned bitterly.

“How about now, mate?” Ron asked.

“I’m pretty good, I suppose. I don’t get visions anymore.”

They all nodded, although Neville had a vaguely unsettled look on his face.

“So, that’s it, then? You just hung around and glared at Snape and Dumbledore all break?” Ginny asked.

“Mostly, yeah. I avoided them a lot. Got my homework done.”

“How has Snape been treating you?” Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. “He apologized for a while, but the other day he said that he’d got orders from Riddle to make me miserable. So it’s back to the way things were, I reckon.”

“Oh.” His friends were quiet again. They hadn’t complained as much as he had expected, but then he supposed that it really hadn’t sunk in yet. He was watching the hypnotic flames dancing in the fireplace when he yawned.

“We have classes in the morning,” Hermione remarked.

“Yeah,” Ginny said. “I’ll walk up the stairs with you.”

Hermione nodded and rose, crossing over to kiss Ron on the cheek. She straightened, but he pulled her back down for a proper goodnight-kiss. When they pulled apart the pair was blushing, especially when Ginny catcalled and Neville surprised them by letting out a wolf-whistle. Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“Goodnight, Ronald, Harry, Neville,” Hermione said primly. “Coming, Ginevra?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Coming, Hermione. ‘Night guys.” The boys bid her goodnight and sat before the fire a few minutes longer.

“Suppose we ought to go to bed too,” Neville said.

“Yeah,” Ron said without moving.

“Well, goodnight,” Neville said as he climbed to his feet and headed toward the stairs. Halfway there he paused. “Harry?”

Harry looked up. Several unidentified expressions flickered over Neville’s face before he shook his head. “Nothing. Get some sleep.”

Harry blinked and nodded. He sat there with Ron for perhaps another ten minutes filled with a sort of expectant silence before the redhead stood up. “C’mon, mate.” He offered Harry a hand. “We really have got class tomorrow and you look as if you could use the sleep.”

Harry glanced at the hand before him, slightly calloused from holding a broom and a quill and covered with the ubiquitous freckles. Then he took it and let Ron pull him up. Instead of releasing him right away, however, Ron peered into his eyes. “Harry, mate. You never talked about Sirius, and you never said anything about any of this, either. You can talk to us, you know. We’re here for you.”

Harry shook his head. “Everyone’s been saying that lately, you, McGonagall, even Remus when he was here.”

Ron quirked an eyebrow at hearing that Lupin had come to Hogwarts. “Well, it’s true. And if you ever want to talk about Sirius, or about Snape, you know just to insult him, or not, I’ll be around.”

Harry stopped himself from making a sarcastic comment and said instead, “Thanks, Ron. I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Ron looked like he didn’t quite believe him but let go of his hand anyway, in favor of slinging an arm about his shoulders as they crossed the common room.

---

Luna Lovegood was as good as her word.

The next morning Harry stumbled out of his bed, got ready, and made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast with Ron. His sleep had been surprisingly restless. Whoever it was that said that talking would make it better was clearly lying. It was somehow as if baring his soul to his friends had served only to crystallize his anger.

He’d not been seated five minutes, however, before a single owl swooped down to the table in front of him, seemingly not noticing that it was standing in a platter of eggs. Harry had barely time to untie the note from its leg before it took off again.

“Is that from Luna?” Ron asked as he fitted his mouth around half a pastry.

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry said as he unrolled the scroll.

“Her owl’s as loony as she is.”

“Luna’s not loony,” Harry protested.

“Yeah, she is,” Ron said with a grin.

“Luna is abstracted, Ronald.” Hermione peered at her boyfriend over the top of her Arithmancy text.

“Yeah, Ronald,” Neville teased gently. “Luna is abstracted.” He had a lofty and superior expression on his face that seemed entirely out of place on the gentle Herbology student.

“Can it,” Ron mock-growled as he nudged Hermione’s knee with his own under the table. She smiled but did not look up again.

Harry, meanwhile, was perusing Luna’s note. It had a rambling salutation, which was no more than he expected, but it soon got down to business. Apparently Luna had nicked several items from her housemates. They were not entirely essential things, but their owners would soon notice their absence. In their place she had left bits of parchment with riddles that told where the items were hidden. The answers were written at the bottom in the invisible ink that she had purchased earlier in the year. All of the parchments had been written out before hand, but the prank was actually in motion right now.

Harry couldn’t help but look over at the Ravenclaw table. Several of the students were wearing frowns and Cho Chang seemed to be asking everyone if they had seen her favorite hairclip. Harry couldn’t help breaking out in a large grin that soon devolved into barely repressed laughter.

“Just read Luna’s letter, did you?” Ginny asked as she plunked down on the bench across from him.

“Yes,” he answered. “It seems so fitting,” he said.

“That’s what I thought. Her house really does underestimate her. I doubt anyone will ever guess it’s Luna.”

“Yeah. That’s good though. It’d be a shame if she got in trouble for it.” Ginny nodded in agreement.

“Speaking of trouble,” Ron said, “I notice you managed to behave well enough over Christmas hols. The hourglass hasn’t changed at all.”

“Yeah, it was a struggle, but in the end victory was mine,” Harry said gesturing grandly.

Ron snorted with the unfortunate side-effect that he inhaled the egg he had been chewing.

“Honestly, Ron.” Ginny said and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why Hermione puts up with you.”

Hermione looked up. “Well,” she said thoughtfully. Her long pause made Ron look up at her nervously. “I suppose it’s because he’s rather cute at times, and quite brave,” Hermione said at last, her brown eyes dancing with humor. Ron smiled at her and, having thoroughly cleaned his face with his napkin, leaned over to kiss her.

“Ugh,” Harry groaned playfully looking away. “Do you have to do that at the table?” There was no reply. “Do you think my professors will accept seared eyeballs as a reason to skip class?” he asked Ginny and Neville mock-seriously.

Ron and Hermione finally broke apart and Hermione smoothed her hair and straightened her blouse. “Professor Snape won’t,” she replied. “We have potions today, you know.”

This time, Harry’s groan was entirely real.

---

“Well? Enter!”

The moment he had awakened that morning he could feel the headache coming on. It was going to be one of those sort, and it was only a matter of time and dunderheads before it blossomed just behind his eyes with an enthusiasm that convinced him that there was justice in the universe, even if there was no mercy. There had been idiots aplenty in his previous classes, and no one had been safe from his sharp tongue. Given how truly miserable he felt, he thought that it was a wonder any houses had any points left. And he did mean any house. But here he was, opening the door to what was sure to be the worst class of the day. He had certainly dreaded it long enough.

Fighting the urge to rub at his temples or pinch the bridge of his nose, Severus instead growled out the directions, poorly worded and overly concise, and ordered them to start working. He ignored the raised eyebrows as he stalked around the classroom. Any moment now he was going to have to find something, anything, to criticize Harry about. Before he would have been only too eager to do so, but now…well. That was no longer the case.

Nevertheless, within fifteen minutes of the beginning of class he found a fault in Harry’s preparation technique. His ginger root cubes were just a trifle too large. Granted, it probably wouldn’t greatly alter the efficacy of the potion, especially if he waited an extra minute before adding the lavender sepals and tossed in an extra pinch of ground cactus spine. But those steps weren’t written in the text, and the cubes were too big.

“Potter!” Severus shouted from the opposite side of the classroom. He startled Finch-Fletchly, whom he had been standing next to, and the boy was lucky not to have cut himself with the knife he wielded.

Harry, to his credit, did not flinch as many might have, but his shoulders tensed noticeably. “Yes, Professor?” the youth ground out without looking up.

“Your ginger root is inadequately diced. Go and get a new root. And twenty points from Gryffindor for wasting class time and school materials.”

Harry shot him a venomous glare from beneath his eyelashes but moved to comply. If the class had been watching him with raised eyebrows before, they now looked like the innocuous bits of hair were going to crawl right off their faces. Twenty points was harsh, especially given the relative patience Snape had treated Harry and the rest of the class with all first term. Well, it was just as well that they learned rapidly that Severus Snape had not mellowed. And about time, too; if he had waited much longer they might have started coming to him with questions about class or, Merlin forbid, about life in general.

Harry, meanwhile, had gotten his root and moved back to his table. He was dicing again and this time the cubes were too small. Again, not by much, and it would be fairly easy to counter, but they were not the perfect eighth inch that the book specified.

“Potter!” Severus shouted again. “Are you utterly incapable of dicing ginger roots? Perhaps it is too much work for your single brain cell to accurately measure and cut a one eighth inch cube?” This time there was nothing discreet about the glare that Harry gifted him with. “Well, boy?” The class stared at them in fascination.

“What answer shall I give you, Professor?” Harry cocked his head to one side. “Either way you’ll find some way to make me look stupid.”

“Perhaps that would not be the case if you did not behave in a way that made it so very easy to point out your intellectual handicap.”

Harry’s lips paled as he pressed them firmly together.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter. And a zero for your daily work. You can spend the rest of the class period reading your text, supposing, of course, that that task isn’t too difficult for you?”

Harry grudgingly cleaned up his work station before perching on the stool and leaning over his book. Severus just sneered as he turned away.

Hermione scowled at him and cast sympathetic glances at Harry throughout the class, though she was careful to make sure that her head was bent over the cauldron anytime he looked her way. He did manage to catch Harry grimacing back at the girl though, and he descended upon them in an instant. “Is it possible, Potter, that you are incapable of reading without Miss Granger’s assistance?”

“What? I can read by myself, thanks!” the boy exclaimed indignantly.

Miss Granger appeared to focus on her brewing, but he could tell she was listening closely, ready to intervene, no doubt, by the way that her fingers lingered on her supplies as she reordered them.

“Really?”

“Yes!” Harry shouted, interrupting him. “I’ve handed in several essays at this point. Surely I could not write without being able to read. Unless, sir, it is you who are incapable of reading? Maybe you just didn’t see my name at the top of the parchment!”

“Detention, Mr. Potter. Be here at seven o’clock tonight. In the meantime, take your things and head to the Headmaster’s office.” Severus was furious, and only part of it was the insistent throbbing in his temples.

Harry slammed his things in his bag and stomped out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor!” Severus stalked about the room once more before seating himself behind his desk and marking essays, glowering up at the remaining students, most of whom were cowering behind their cauldrons.

---

Harry was certain that Snape would have taken points off for slamming the door, but he didn’t really care. He had known that the class was going to be bad, but that didn’t stop him from fuming over it. That greasy, slimy, bastard!

And of course he would send him up to Dumbledore! Who was going to say, ‘there there, Harry. It’s all Voldemort’s fault, you know. Severus didn’t mean to do it. Lemon drop?’ Hah! He did not want to deal with the barmy old man’s sympathetic mutterings.

Harry’s steps slowed. Why should he? Dumbledore couldn’t know that he had been sent up. And besides, Snape had said ‘head to the Headmaster’s office.’ He hadn’t said that he actually had to go there. Technically, all Harry had to do was go to the gargoyle and then leave, and no one would be the wiser. Harry smirked. There was another hour or so until his Transfiguration class. He could always head to the library and get some Defense reading done.

“Mr. Potter, what are you doing out of class?” Professor McGonagall had just come out of Dumbledore’s office and Harry knew he wasn’t going to be able to go the library that period after all.

“Snape threw me out,” he informed her.

“Threw you out?”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever for?”

Harry shrugged.

McGonagall looked at him closely through narrowed eyes before turning around. “Well, come along, then, Potter. Up to the Headmaster’s office with you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry muttered, following her up the winding staircase and into his second least-favorite office at Hogwarts.

“Minerva? Ah, and young Harry. What can I do for you two?” Dumbledore tilted his head to the side and peered over his spectacles at them, eyes mercifully free of the majority of their usual twinkle.

“I found Mr. Potter at the gargoyle, Headmaster. He claims that Professor Snape told him to leave class.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Is that so, Harry?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry glared at the edge of the headmaster’s desk so that he wouldn’t have to meet the old man’s eyes.

“I see.” The office was silent as Albus eyed Harry before speaking again. “Thank you Minerva.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow for a moment then pursed her lips and nodded. She turned and left, recognizing the dismissal for what it was, but determined to have a little chat with Severus. That determination was only strengthened later that evening when she happened to see the point counters.

“Sit down, Harry,” Dumbledore said at last. “Why don’t you tell me what happened in Potions class?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, sir.”

Dumbledore frowned. “Mr. Potter, I understand that this is a somewhat difficult time for you, but I really must insist that you cooperate in this matter.”

Harry’s glare intensified. “Snape lit into me again. After a while I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“Professor Snape, Harry. Would you care to elaborate any more?”

“Well, he just kept picking at me about how I diced my ginger root. At first I did what he told me to. I took a zero for the day and sat in class reading my text book. But when he started saying that I couldn’t read without Hermione to help me, well, I sort of snapped.”

“Snapped how?”

“Well, I said that I’d been turning in essays for the last six years and if he couldn’t tell that they were mine then perhaps he was the one who couldn’t read.”

There was a quickly smothered glint of amusement in Dumbledore’s eyes at that statement. “I see. I don’t imagine that Professor Snape was very pleased by that.”

Harry snorted. “No. He chucked me out of class and sent me here. And he gave me a detention.”

“Well, Harry, I am going to have to insist that you treat your professors with rather more respect than you showed Professor Snape. Magic can be a dangerous thing, especially for students. I am also going to leave your punishments intact. However, I will not assign any further punishments, and I will have a talk with Professor Snape.”

Harry continued scowling at the desk.

“Harry.” The aged wizard looked at him sorrowfully. “I do know that this is a most trying time for you. I hope that you and Severus can find some way to work around and through the current difficulties. If you cannot,” he sighed. “If you cannot, and you find that you cannot, or will not, talk to me, please, find someone. You have rather remarkable friends, you know. More than you realize, I think. And your head of house would always be happy to talk to you.” Dumbledore gave him a penetrating look. “You are not alone, Harry. It is important that you remember that.”

Harry made no reply, and the headmaster sighed again. “You may go, Harry. I’m sure you don’t want to be late to Transfigurations.”

---

Five minutes to seven found Harry standing outside Snape’s office, glaring fiercely at the door. He had a headache, and had had a slightly faint feeling all afternoon that only seemed to get worse as time passed. It had even prevented him from doing much more than playing with his food at dinner, though he had passed it off as anxiety about his detention. Much as he wished to be anywhere else, staring at a wooden door was not exactly the most titillating activity, so Harry raised his hand and knocked.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, how good of you to come,” Snape sneered as he let him into the office. It had occurred to him that detention was the perfect opportunity to talk to Harry without raising anyone’s suspicions. Once the door was securely shut behind him Severus gestured at the chair. “You may sit, if you like.” Harry stepped forward and dropped into the chair, but he did not speak, and he did not relax in the slightest as Severus seated himself behind the desk. The professor steepled his fingers and examined the youth before him. “I am not certain you wish to hear this,” he spoke hesitantly. “But I thought I owed you some explanation for today.” He paused and peered at Harry. “You may recall that I had told you about my assignment?”

Harry glared at him. “Yes,” he said grudgingly.

“Well, then I hope you understand why I had to do what I did.”

“Look, do you have any cauldrons for me to scrub or anything? Because I don’t really want to spend my detention sitting around talking about my feelings,” Harry sneered.

Severus frowned at him. “I had hoped you would be willing to discuss this in a rational and adult manner. I see that is not the case.”

“I don’t see why we need to discuss it.”

“Harry!” Severus said, leaning forward. “I have apologized and explained repeatedly. I am not in the easiest of positions.”

“Neither am I!” Harry shouted. “I am sick and tired of being lied to and taken advantage of, and told only what somebody else thinks I need to know!”

“I am attempting to tell you the truth! Why do you think I’ve told you anything? The wrong word to anybody about what you know and I could end up dead! I have trusted you, why won’t you return the favor?” Severus’s voice had started out quite loud and had progressed to a soft hiss by the end of his statement.

“Perhaps because you don’t deserve it,” Harry said in icy dignity.

Severus glared at him. “Your behavior does not merit the reward of mature conversation. You will write lines, Mr. Potter. You will write ‘I will respect my professors’ one thousand times before you leave this evening. There is ink, quill, and parchment on the table, there.”

Harry glared back defiantly but moved over to the small side table where the stationary Snape had described was set out. He had been writing for some time, inwardly fuming, when he noticed a spot of blood on the parchment. His first thought was that somehow Snape had gotten hold of Umbridge’s horrid quill, but he realized that that was not the case when another spot joined it. There was a sort of warm, trickling feeling in his nose. Harry raised his hand to his face and drew it back to stare in surprise at the smear of crimson.

“Why are you not…” Snape trailed off. With a flick of his wand he conjured a tissue and strode over to his student. “Here,” he said, holding the tissue in front of Harry’s face. Harry took it and put it to his nose. “Tilt your head back, boy,” he said, tipping Harry’s chin up so that his head was leaning backward. “Have you ever had a nosebleed before?” he asked after several minutes.

“No,” Harry replied, his voice distorted.

“Well, it will pass in a moment. Unless there is some sweet you should be eating?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“No,” Harry said indignantly.

“Very well. Just wait a moment then. I don’t think there will be any need to send you to Madame Pomfrey.” Harry nodded awkwardly. A few moments later the minor crisis was over and Harry was bent over his parchment again.