Blah. That’s all he said. Blah, blah, blah, blah. One would think a ghost would be much more interesting, but no, he wasn’t. Maybe if you considered the way he said ‘blah’, in the different tones and different lifts of his transparent lips, like Harry was currently doing, but normally one didn’t reach that stage of boredom.

Instead the reached the stage of boredom where they dreamed with their eyes open, they drooled without realizing it or humiliation, and they gazed unseeingly at the back of the heads of their peers. Dandruff even offered more interest then ‘blah’ at the moment.

Eyes drooping shut, Harry attempted to keep his attention locked on the back of his friend’s head, the fiery red hair so loud and rude it was bound to blind anyone to stay awake, yet, alas, it failed him in that one dull moment. Chin dragging along the slick crease of his palm, he started to fall forward…

Bang!

The classroom door banged open to Professor Binns room, starting everyone out of their bored stupor, either violently, rudely, or unwelcomingly—if not all three. Blinking, everyone blinking in the suddenly bright light, they looked up to see Professor Snape stalking the isle of the room, glowering and sneering his lip at everyone.

Well that was one hell of a rude awakening. Make a mental note: Never get Snape to wake you up in the morning, especially if his entrances in the afternoon were that cracking.

“Why hello Professor…Shark,” Binns breathed, blinking large, un-daunting eyes at the sneering man, who scowled darkly at those who dared to chuckle of the mistaken name.

“Professor,” his lip curled, obviously not buying into that obvious fact. “The Headmaster requests Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger in his office,” several students swivel in their seats, to stare at them, wonderingly.

“Well,” Harry growled in annoyance at Dean Thomas. “You want me to do a trick or somethin’?”

“Actually,” Dean grinned ruthlessly while Professor Binns huffed out a bit.

“Very well, very well,” he said dismissively. “Mr. Weasel, Mr. Dot…Dotter and Mr. Ginger please accompany Professor Lark here to the Headmaster’s office.” He was looking at a group of very affronted looking Slytherins.

The Potions Master turns without a word, his robes wiping out behind him dramatically while the trio pushed back their seats, dutifully piling up their books into their packs. The man spared them naught a glance as he stalked by, obviously expecting them to follow like trained dogs—which all were loathed to admit, but they did.

The walk through the corridor was silent, the loathing of Harry and Ron vibrating off of them in the direction of Snape, while Hermione looked genuinely puzzled to the reason they were being dragged to the Headmaster’s Office in the middle of class. Though her two friends were glad for the interruption.

The portraits muttered as they passed, several convinced they had finally upped and gotten them expelled, while the others worried what trouble surrounded the trio once again. Always in trouble they were, either caused by them or caused by someone else.

“Why are they always in trouble, especially that Potter child?” a quiet Monk whispered as they walked by, looking pointedly at Harry, who pretended to have not heard the suggestive question.

“Karma,” responds the other Monk with the shiny bald head. “Has to be Karma, honestly.” Hermione caught Harry’s eye and rolled it. Smirking at her, the boy tipped his head back to study the corridor’s ceiling, which was just as boring as Professor Binns.

Not many would find boredom in a life where the Dark Lord was after his very blood, but then again not many knew Harry Potter and not many knew Professor Binns either. And if they had—had being the keyword—they would’ve died of resolute boredom.

Finally, the silence still thick and cracking between them, they reached the statue of the gargoyle.

“Cotton Butterflies,” Snape uttered, inwardly wincing. Gods, that old man and his sweets. The gargoyle instantly jumped aside, allowing them passage up to the Headmaster’s office, and they troop up the steps, Snape in the lead, his usual face of pure impassiveness set in place.

Harry discreetly looked around as they entered, seeing a slightly bare emptiness to it since his little ‘outburst’ last year, and instantly felt a burn beneath his cheeks.

They weren’t alone when they entered—well, of course Dumbledore would be there—but to their surprise Ginny was too, along with Neville, and Luna.

All those involved in the Department of Mysteries fiasco. Well that was quaint.

Dumbledore was perched behind his desk, stroking his red phoenix, and a short, stocky man with a hell of comb-over stood before the desk, clasping and unclasping his hands. He was sweating slightly, which was understandable seeing how he was wearing a thick winter cloak in the midst of Dumbledore’s cozy, warm office, and he smiled at them weakly.

“’Ello,” he instantly said as soon as they were all gathered, Snape moving to the side to stand next to McGonagall, who had her lips pressed flat in utter annoyance at the man. “I’m Stewart Stuffy,” he grasped Neville Longbottom’s hand, who happened to be the closest.

“Rather unfortunate name, isn’t it?” Ron muttered quietly to Harry, who snorted quietly in agreement.

“Yeah, just a bit,” he whispered in response while Hermione discreetly stepped on her foot.

“Anyhow,” Stewart ran his hands over his baldy head, ruffling up his comb-over. “I’ve come here to distribute an invitation to you six in hopes of reconciling what happened at the Department of Mysteries.”

“What?” Hermione and Harry started in surprise.

“Reconcile?” Harry voice came off a bit harsh, with the raw memory of Sirius hanging over his head. Steward involuntarily flinched at the voice.

“Well, I’m a representative of the Department,” he murmured weakly and Harry raised an eyebrow. Now that wasn’t the kind of stock he expected from the Department of Mysteries. “And with the unfortunate accident of Sirius Black,” Harry inwardly winced. “We want to extend you an invitation to a Halloween Ball…”

His voice was lost.

Blink. Blink. How…blink…How the hell did that work out? Harry was deaf to the man’s blubbering mouth, seeing it moving up and down in grotesque slants and slits, his mind pulling nothing but uncomprehending confusion at the statement.

Sirius is dead, through the Department’s Archway, and this, this badly named man thought they could reconcile with inviting them to a Halloween Ball. Well wasn’t that just dandy.

What next? Voldemort was going to admit a chronicle of defeat at Harry’s hand by having a slumber party? Harry felt his eye twitch and clenched his hand, angrily.

“Now,” Stewart breathed. “Dumbledore has agreed to the invitation, but as formal to invitation, I had to tell you of it directly.” He seemed immensely relieved to be finished.

“Well…” McGonagall griped in annoyance, staring at the man accusingly. “Aren’t you done?”

“Yes, yes I am Minerva…”

“Then get out!” she snapped causing great surprise to the children of the office, but not the adults. Flushing a bright red, he ran his jittery hands over his head again and hurriedly grasped hands with Ron—who was closest this time—and bustled off, waddling and murmuring quietly, insanely, to himself.

Once he was gone, they teenagers turned to the old, wrinkling man wide-eyed.

“Reconcile?” Harry snapped darkly as the old man’s eyes fell instinctively upon him. “How the hell does a Halloween Ball…”

“Potter,” Snape barked out. “Watch how to speak to the Headmaster. And if you were wise enough to use your brain, which rarely happens, then you would realize that the Department of Mysteries would’ve hounded you six until the end of your days until you gave in to go to some ball or another.”

Harry’s eye twitched again. Damn eye.

“The Department of Mysteries,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Isn’t exactly known for its…understanding, you could say, of how to deal with people’s emotions.” McGonagall snorted. “Now, however, I do find this Ball to be a rather good chance to let you briefly escape hectic and worrisome lives at the moment.”

His eyes twinkled sadly, wishing deeply that they didn’t have to have those lives.

“That’s…nice,” Ginny said awkwardly. Dumbledore inclined his head somewhat.

“Please forgive me,” the man said heavily. “But this meeting really was just for Mr. Stuffy’s invitation. I do believe you have classes to get back to and I most finish my conversation with Professors Snape and McGonagall.”

“Of course,” Hermione said, smiling. “Thanks for letting us go to the Ball.”

“You deserve it,” Dumbledore returned the smile. With that, they were dismissed once again. Turning they left the office quickly and silently, until they reached the base of the stairs.

“Being invited to a Ball by the Department of Mysteries is a big honor,” Hermione said approving.

“But their reasons sucks,” Harry muttered and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Well, I’m sure it shall prove to be interesting,” Luna concludes before drifting off like some physical form of a ghost. Harry watched her walk off, incredulous.

Leave it to Luna.

The calendar no longer had dates on it.

He sat on his bed, staring at the wall calendar, blinking on the occasional interval, but somewhat content. The calendar no longer had dates on it. He had scrubbed them all off, on every month, every week, every day. No longer would a number reside in the corner of the little box, marking each passing day like a catalogue.

He felt like someone trapped in that box when the numbers were there, but when they weren’t, he could crawl out through their scrubbed hole, and disappear into the realm where he wasn’t trapped in day to day life.

Wasn’t trapped the catalogue of his days till he met Voldemort, till the Prophecy made its stand.

He liked it this way.

Sure, he knew that the rest of the world had dates on their calendars, and always would, but somehow, just his one calendar, his calendar not having dates was good enough for him.

Yes, indeed, it was good enough for him.

Scrubbing his face, he laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Downstairs was a mess of gossip and rumors, for Hogwarts, true to its word on holding secrets, had spilt the beans about Harry and company having an invitation to a Halloween Ball. Yeah, they spoke in awed whispers behind hands (for the hand was a soundproof barrier that no one else but the speaker and the listener could hear from) and they all gossiped it of being Harry’s…

Well something.

He wasn’t sure what exactly it was at the moment that led them to the Halloween Ball, because it changed just as quickly as Tonk’s hair color, and he wasn’t too up to going and finding out. Instead, he would sit on his bed, gazing longing at the ceiling.

He was still ticked that he had to attend the stupid Ball, because he wasn’t going to be able to get over Sirius’s death by dancing his troubles away, traipsing in some ridiculous costume that he had to dream up in two days lest he, god forbid, have to go just as plain ol’ Harry.

Not that’d rock before off their rockers wouldn’t it?

The door slowly creaked open, and Ron popped his head in. “Oy, mate, there you are,” he smiled his abundantly freckled face. “I just figured out a costume for you and me, whatcha say to that?”

“Bloody wicked,” Harry snarled in dripping sarcasm that amazingly mirrored Snape’s own sarcasm.

Ron overlooked the comment, knowing his friend’s bad humor, and pounced forward, landing in a heap at the end of the bespectacled boy’s bed. “We’re going to be Pirates.” Harry just blinked. “I’ve never been a pirate,” he said, almost wistfully. “I want to be Captain…Captain Hooker though.”

Harry broke in a barking laughs at that, his face reddening and flushing, his stomach hurting. Ron flushed red, seeing himself being made fun of, and frowned. “What?” he demanded. “What did I say? Oy, stop! Come back!”

Yet it was too late, Harry had rolled off his bed, laughing so heavily one might think he had been hit with a laughing curse, and stumbled off in a run out of the room. He had to find Hermione.

Bounding into the Common Room, barely noting the startled, wary looks of the house mates, and he shoved through, still wheezing in laughter, while Ron chased him. Dropping before Ginny, he looked imploring at the girl.

“Hermione?” he gasped at the bemused girl, who just dumbly pointed out the portrait.

“Library,” she breathed. “Is somethin’ the matter Harry…” but he had already taken off running, straight for the portrait. She looked questioningly at Ron, who just ran by in hot pursuit, flushed a turnip red.

Once they were in the corridor, however, it became not a search for Hermione, but for a race to reach her first. Still broken over in laughter, Harry was nearly doubled over as he ran, laughing for what felt the first time in ages, while Ron ran after him, shouting out profanity—causing many seventh years to blush and Professors to yell off house points.

At one point or another, the smashed past Snape—who let his face flicker somewhat in surprise, before concealing it quickly—and went on their merry way, Ron’s words coming out in a mix that sounded slightly like he might’ve—to the trained ear mind—included Snape in his insults.

Especially the words ‘greasy’, ‘git’, and ‘pansy’ seemed to be directed at him—if he had indeed included the Potions Master in his stream of profanity as he chased down his best mate.

However, as quickly as that came, it went, and just as quickly as they ran into the Library, that went too. Obviously making too much noise to be accepted into the library by Madame Pince, Harry and Ron were in and just as quickly pounced out, sprawling painfully on their bottoms.

The woman glared at them waspishly before disappearing with her nose held high, leaving two momentarily dumbfounded boys in her wake.

“Mate, did we just get kicked out of the library before even sitting down?” Ron whispered and Harry nodded, awed. “Broken a bloody record we have, that’s for sure.”

Hermione came to the door, having followed the ruckus, and frowned at them, disapprovingly. “What might I ask are you two doing?”

“Oy, Hermione, it’s happened,” Harry grinned toothily. “Ron’s told me his heart’s desire.”

“I did no such thing!” Ron protested, confused.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. “What?”

“He wants to be Captain Hooker,” Harry declared proudly causing Hermione to flush yet start forward with a very uncharacteristic snort and Ron to flush.

“Do not!” he thundered angrily. “I just wanted to be that Captain from that muggle book for kids. Captain Hooker…” he crossed his arms stubbornly, but his eyes flickered unsurely.

“Suure,” Harry laughed, causing his friend to swat at him. “We know the truth.”

“Hooker,” Hermione shook her head, unable to hid the smile that crossed her face. “Ron, it’s Captain Hook.”

“Kill joy,” Harry muttered sourly while Ron made an ‘oh’.

“What are you two doing talking about pirates anyway?”

“We’re going to be pirates for Halloween,” the freckled, red-headed boy declared triumphantly, smiling grandly at his ‘superb’ idea.

“Well, you have good timing,” Hermione informed them. “I just found a spell to turn our robes to look like our costumes, instead of having to buy things. We’ll try it out with your Pirate costumes. Now get off your bottoms.”

Sheepishly the two boys climbed off their arses and brushed themselves off. Turning, Hermione gestured them down the corridor to an empty classroom.

“I wonder,” Harry wondered aloud. “What Ron’s Captain Hooker costume will look like.”

888

They stood in a bored gaggle in Dumbledore’s office, plucking and messing with their costumes while they waited for the old wizard. Neville and Ginny were discussing something of utmost importance it seemed, yet when Harry stepped closer he found it was of flowers.

Blinking, he hurriedly backed away.

Hermione choose not to be a Pirate with Harry and Ron, who were finding their costumes so amusing that they had taken to talking so much like a ‘Pirate’ that Hermione threatened to curse them into talking like girls if they hadn’t stopped. Instead she had chosen to be a Carnival Master.

A Wizard Carnival Master that is, and even though Harry had never been to a Wizard Carnival, it was assured that she looked very much the part. She wore a set of black robes that was striped with silver lines that looked more like a suit then a robe. With a crooked top hat on her bushy brown hair, she wore a bird-beaked mask that shifted between smiling and frowning.

She even had a whip in her hand, and a large, silver loop earring in her left ear.

It was a surprising choice of costume, though Harry really thought Ginny took the cake on who was most surprising. She had come as no one other then Death himself. The blackest robe imaginable, with a hood that shielded her face and fiery red hair, and a scythe in hand.

Seriously, Harry mused. Strange girl.

Neville was a simple vampire, flushing the whole time that he hadn’t too sure, while Luna had decided to be a Medieval Queen that had been beheaded. Mind, no one had ever heard of the Queen that she was, but that was that. She carried a basket in hand, saying that when she got tired of propping her head on her red neck she could put it there.

And well…it was Luna.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Dumbledore walked in, smiling grandly, eyes sparking at the sight of their costumes. “Lovely, lovely,” he said aloud in what could’ve been a wondering voice.

Then he stepped into the middle of the office, and bunched them together. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said, bowing his head. “But I feel I must have a Colin Creevy moment, and take a picture of this.”

Snorting at the statement, they all bunched together, making faces or in Harry and Ginny’s case, pretending to try and scare the other, they allowed themselves to be taken hold of in a picture. Once two flashes subsided, leaving them blinking and dazzled somewhat, they all turned expectantly to the old wizard.

“Now, in ten minutes, you shall be joined by Tonks and Moody, and twenty minutes after that Kingsley and Arthur,” he smiled at them. “Must have your security as inconspicuous as possible. Now, I’m sure you six can stay out of trouble for ten minutes, hmm?”

Somewhere, deep within the castle, there was a resounding snort from a certain Potions Master.

“Of course sir,” Hermione instantly piped up and Dumbledore beamed.

“Good, good,” he smiled at them again, his eyes twinkling. “Do enjoy yourself, very much, please.”

“How are we getting there?” Ron asked, curious.

“Portkey, of course,” in response to his own words he pulled an old boot from his back pocket—seriously arousing suspicion in Harry—and held it forward. “Touch it,” he requested and obeying they all attached fingers onto the muddy rim of the boot. “Now,” he drew back. “Enjoy yourself.”

And the familiar tug behind his navel jerked Harry away and the others away from the office in a whirling rush.

They all landed with a thump outside a large, wooden house that seemed to gleam with…well, nothing. It was empty.

Having all collapsed due to Neville’s uneasy balance, they barely had time to acknowledge where they were, when Steward Stuffy dropped before them—like he had just fallen from the sky.

“Oh sorry,” he breathed, all awkwardness gone and a malicious glint in his eye. “I gave dear ol’ Dumbledore the wrong address. Here, let me correct that.”

Instinctively, the six attempted to recoil, but it was too late, the man had replaced the boot they were all still attached to with another portkey, and they were jerked off again, whisked painfully into the nighttime sky—yowling in rage.

888

Severus Snape looked up from his shimmering potion, the laughter and ruckus from the Great Hall washing over him like silence, but his eyes were looking off somewhere else.

Somewhere distant.

It was like he was gazing down a tunnel and there was a light at the end.

And he knew. He knew what it meant the moment he saw the light. The moment he felt the sting on his arm, growing and screaming, calling to him thirstily.

He knew.

He knew like Harry Potter had known the moment the Portkey had been changed by Stewart Stuffy, and he was jerked off once again to something inevitable.

Like Dumbledore knew the moment that his spells for the six teenagers’ safe arrival at Stuffy’s Manor went haywire before completely canceling out.

And the three that knew beforehand what was going to happen would soon be joined by millions of others who knew afterward what happened.

Yet, it was only those three, who knew, that really realized that as they set to perpetrations—one last minute and desperate, one walking through the hoards of Hogwarts students, and the other sitting behind a large desk, whispering to his Phoenix—that their future wasn’t set.

Whatever was going to happen would happen…

No one the wiser until it happened…

And then everyone would know…

888

They landed in an ungraceful heap before Riddle Manor, sprawled out over each other, chilled by the sight over them.

Faceless, taunting and gathering Death Eaters, deathly silent, standing over them, watching with no emotion—and if there was emotion, it was bloodlust.

And as they untangled, gripping their wands so tightly at their knuckles turned white, the Death Eaters parted like the Red Sea, giving them perfect view of a demon.

A clapping demon.

“My, my, those costumes are quite splendid,” Voldemort’s smile wasn’t a smile; nonetheless the tilted lips of a monster rose gracefully and highly into his pointed cheekbones.

Dumbledore ‘enjoy yourself’ echoed dully and ironically in their ears.

‘…either must die at the hand of the other…’

Those words echoed in Harry’s head like a badly tuned record player, but in his bones, he knew if it weren’t for those words, he would’ve never been able to stand and face what someone else had—either purposely or unwittingly—deemed his destiny.

A short, stocky fellow with a quivering silver hand, stood slightly before Voldemort on his right, his wand raised and pointing. “Now, now,” Voldemort kept his malicious smile in place. “Let the children have a fair chance. Let them keep their wands.”

Ron was pale beyond belief, as was Neville, and vaguely in the back of his mind, a dry voice told Harry that he was the only one among the group that had ever truly faced Voldemort. The others had always been off somewhere else.

Lucky them.

Hermione and Ginny’s faces were unreadable behind their mask and darkness, respectively, but Harry had the impression that it was the same—except Ginny. She’d face Voldemort before, his younger self mind, but still she had.

“Tell me Potter,” Voldemort continued, his voice talking as if they were old chums. “Do you like the irony of it?”

“Of life, Tom?” Harry asked snidely as the Death Eater’s shifted about him. “No, not really, life’s just toopredictable to be ironic anymore.”

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes somewhat. “Of the dates, Potter, of the dates.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry briefly bowed his head, feigning sincerity. There was laughter from the Death Eaters, until Harry looked up again, eyes glinting. “I happened to have erased all the dates from my calendar, therefore I don’t know what the date is, nor do I care.”

That was a lie. He knew it was Halloween, but then again, didn’t mean he knew the date—just the day.

“Though, I do know it to be Tuesday, and if you anything into Lewis Carroll it would be my Un-birthday, oh,” Harry pretended to have hit a realization. “And your un-birthday too. Imagine that.” Harry smiled sweetly at the demon.

The monster had to take a breath briefly while the Death Eaters growled and murmured threats from beneath their masks. They were contained from acting, however, until Voldemort gave them word.

Such loyal puppies.

“Cheeky, Mr. Potter, cheeky,” Voldemort tilted his finger back and forth; tutting like Harry was a naughty boy. “I don’t approve of cheek, especially from those I’m going to kill. I prefer,” he tapped his chin, sardonically. “Groveling.”

“Then get on your knees and grovel,” Harry shrugged. “Get your kicks wherever you can, doesn’t bother me.”

There was a bellow of holy rage from the Death Eaters as they all made to surge forward, and Voldemort’s eyes narrowed so darkly that the red light of them gleamed lowly to an even more unearthly, devilishly glow.

Yet, just as he whipped out his wand, his lips perched on the perfect spell, Hermione’s whip cracked down, breaking his right cheek.

“He’s not alone,” Hermione growled. “Don’t be foolish to forget that.” Blood trickled from the cut of the whip down Voldemort’s cheek, while the surging Death Eaters froze in shock.

“Her-Hermione,” Ron whispered, voice quivering in shock.

“Suck it up, Ron,” Hermione hissed, eyes still locked with Voldemort’s. “Won’t do yourself, nor Harry’s, any good to piss your pants in fear—fight,” she smiled lopsidedly, at Voldemort not Ron. “And fight ‘till they grovel.”

Having never heard Hermione speak like that, everyone but Harry—who had never been there—was shocked out of the dumbfounded, horrified stupor, and their bodies straightened up for a hell of a battle.

The end maybe, even, possibly.

Then, Hermione cracked her whip this time, hitting Voldemort’s other cheek, and that was that.

Not many in history would ever believe that it was Hermione Granger, whipping the whip of her Halloween Costume, that started the battle, but it was true. And all those present or who knew Hermione and really thought about it knew it was true.

And as the resounding crack of the whip echoed around, it was the teenagers, lured into the trap, that truly started the fight. Shouting out spells in unison, stunning and shocking the dumbfounded Death Eaters, who didn’t react until Voldemort recovered enough to wave them along.

He, however, was watching Hermione with the deepest lust—not of love, but of blood. Wiping his hand across his cheek, smearing the blood, he joined the fray of the battle, something he rarely did, his eyes only for Hermione.

She wouldn’t get away with that…

Harry, engulfed in a plague of Death Eaters, fighting them off quickly, skillfully, looked wild-eyed around, attempting to place where Voldemort was heading, suddenly had a sickening jolt to his stomach.

“Hermione!” he hollered, fighting off the hands that attempted to grab him and shielding the spells. “Hermione!” she was fighting with her wand and whipping her whip with the other, while Ginny, not but a few feet away did the same thing with her scythe.

The bushy-haired girl looked over, distracted for the briefest of seconds, and found Harry wildly gesturing around, but frowned, not understanding.

Swearing a low word, the boy rammed the nearest Death Eater in the stomach, and sprinted forward, pumping his arms, feeling his breath hot on his lips, his wands damp in his palm, but he ran.

Ran to a premature badly with Voldemort—to save his friend…

“Tom!” Harry hollered just as the monster raised his wand, to curse the unprotected back of Hermione Granger. “Your fight is with me.” The man didn’t look at him, just drew his lips back in a lethal curse.

Harry ran faster, skidding and cursing Death Eaters out of his way. “Tom!” he screamed about. The monster was listening.

How annoying.

Gasping for breath, Harry did the only thing he could think of. Tipping his wand to his throat, he murmured “Sonorus.” Then, he took the deepest breath he could. “Oy!” his voice boomed out. “Tom, you bloody whore, your fight is with me…”

That got Voldemort’s attention, who turned to him in such a deadly spin that half the Death Eaters about him froze in fear. But Harry was moving too quickly and his tennis were worn to the point that he couldn’t stop.

He careened forward, unable to stop, and Voldemort, unsuspecting, wasn’t able to move out of the way as Harry crashed into him, attempting in vain to get away from the monster of a man, only to get entangled in his limbs, tackling him like an American football player.

Fancy that. Harry Potter tackled Lord Voldemort. Now that was a headline.

Smashing head over heels, and the Death Eaters too preoccupied with their battle to do anything, the hero and the villain smashed their faces heavily into the dirt, slipping down the side hill that rolled toward the basement of the Manor.

Finally slowing down, they flipped off each other quickly, their bodies burning from the contact, Harry’s forehead naturally bubbling painfully. Yet, before the boy could fetch his fallen wand, Voldemort had attacked.

He lunged forward, wrapping his hands about Harry’s neck, and pressing in darkly.

“I can’t,” the pale monster panted as the fight in the front yard raged, unknowing of this single battle. “Beat you with magic, it seems, so I’ll do it the muggle way. Imagine that.” Pressing his thumbs down, he broke into Harry’s windpipe, causing the boy to gasp and grope blindly at his hands.

Writhing, he pried and shoved at the hands, his lungs begging and burning for air, while throwing out one hand in an attempt to grab the discarded wand. Yet it was feet away from his fingertips.

Nothing like the movies, eh?

Tears streamed down his emerald eyes, his face reddening painfully, even his lips tingling, and slowly his thrashing against the ruthlessly grinning demon died down, his lungs pumping the oxygen that was already in his body hurriedly and panicky.

He was dying.

It was ebbed in his bones, his blood, his failing limps and breath, he was dying. He was going to die, Voldemort was going to succeed.

The Prophecy would fall through on the worst of the light and he was going to die…

His hands fell limp at Voldemort’s grasp and he stared at the man’s pale face, seeing that large smile that wasn’t really a smile, and the red eyes that he had once witnessed a-raising from a cauldron.

He’d been the man’s first death, then he’s rebirth, and now it was his time to die. Yet, when he, Harry Potter, died, it would only be once.

Voldemort was chuckling now, pressing down even harder, and Harry felt his eyes droop.

Death…

Painful in the sense of what he was leaving behind…

Then, suddenly, the hands were ripped off his throat, and oxygen flooded with mouth such extreme force that he erupted in hacking, burning coughs, rolling over as spittle rolled from his mouth and blood drained weakly with it.

Vaguely, he could see the blurred shape of two men fighting, with fists, not wands, and as his focus came back, he groaned with a hoarse coughing hack. Yet, he could just barely make out his savior through the shadows, he felt familiar, but who…

Then there was a jet of colorless light and his savior went flying backwards, landing rather ungracefully on his arse. Harry blinked dumbly for a second.

Professor Snape.

“You don’t think I knew it wasn’t you, Snape?” Voldemort hissed, stalking forward with Severus’s wand in hand. His and Harry’s still lay discarded a few feet away. “I knew you were the spy the whole time—but I used you to make Dumbledore feel safe, like he had control.”

Voldemort flicked a glance at Harry, narrowing his eyes. “You were so useful to me, I was really hoping to get you back under my wing. Taunt you with the things that you loved so much when you first joined, but…” he shook his head sadly, raising his wand. “I failed, I see.”

“Dogs don’t like abusive masters, that’s all,” Snape bite out, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Voldemort’s mouth twitch, but nonetheless he kept his wand raised.

“Goodbye, old dog,” he said, almost gravely, before setting his mouth to the lethal curse. Yet, before Harry could act, someone else did.

She swung out of nowhere, like Death himself, and brought her already bloodied scythe straight into Voldemort’s chest—barely damaging him for the force of the swing was weak from her angle—and caused the man too stumble backwards, trip, and fall onto the rotten doors that led into his basement.

As the crash of splintering wood echoed up, taking Voldemort from view, Harry blinked up at Ginny, startled.

“Are you all right?” she asked, looked between the two startled men.

Snape seemed to snap himself out of his stupor the quickest, and climbing haphazardly to his feet, he gestured to Harry, indicating Ginny should help him. “You two hurry leave these grounds and go around to the lightning struck tree. It’s a left turn, you can’t miss it.”

“What about you sir?” Ginny asked, tentatively.

“I’ll get the others.” He turned a hard eye onto them. “I said GO!” Instantly Ginny jumped forward, just as Harry swooped up the wands.

“Sir,” he called out and the man turned to him, glaring. “Here.” He tossed him his wand. “My wand—I’ve got Tom’s,” he waggled the Dark Lord’s wand. “My will be more willing to accept your hand at use…trust me.”

But before Snape could question the ‘trust me’ part, there was a sudden flare of black light from the basement and Voldemort leapt out like the devil himself. Swearing, Snape instinctively slid before Harry and Ginny, urging them to go with hisses.

Ginny grasped Harry’s arm, to help support the breathless boy, and made to lead him away, stealthily into the night, when they froze, dead in shock. Voldemort hadn’t paused in his leaping pounce, but had dived forward, straight at Snape, who engaged him quickly in a countering battle that consisted of fists and magic this time.

They were fighting in a circle, fists pounding into already made wounds, and spells making fresh ones. They seemed to titter in their own clash of magic, stalking and fighting blatantly in a vertical angle that inevitably took them back to the basement’s shattered doors.

Just as they almost lost their balance over the doors, Voldemort lashed out, slamming Snape’s whole wand straight into the man’s gut. Ginny and Harry weren’t too naïve—they knew the sharp, pointed wood pierced the man’s flesh.

He hunched forward, gasping, and almost gently Voldemort stroked his head.

“You were such a good servant—spy or not,” the man seemed to coo. Breathing heavily, eyes hot in anger, Harry gripped Ginny’s arm till it hurt her.

“When it’s clear,” Harry whispered as Snape was slowly lowered to the ground by a crouching Voldemort. “Use that spell Hermione taught us, that stabilizes blood wounds on Professor Snape, understood?”

“But Harry…”

“Understood?” he barked and she nodded, confused.

With that, Harry broke her grasped, and ran forward, his whole body side-tackling Voldemort, who had just drew out Snape’s wand from the man’s gut. Surprised by the attack, they flipped over the basement’s brim, straight into down the stairs littered with shards.

Breathlessly, they struggled for a moment, attempting to overpower the over, until Voldemort once again gained the upper hand, but Harry was ready for it. Curling his fist about a shard of wood, he slapped it upside the man’s head, sending him reeling to the side, and rolling over, he took advantage of the man’s defenselessness.

It would never happen again.

“Can you really kill me, Harry?” Voldemort asked quietly as the boy dug his wand into the man’s temple, seething. Voldemort laid out beneath him, gingerly coxing his fingers to where Snape’s wand lay discarded.

“You’ve killed so many,” Harry rasped hoarsely, fighting with morals. He couldn’t kill could he? “You killed my parents,” his throat was so raw. “You killed Sirius. You might’ve killed Snape. You killed Cedric. That other old man, the keeper of your house. YOU DESERVE TO DIE!”

Voldemort chuckled, his longer fingers still reaching for the wand. “Yes, I have killed, but Harry, can you?

‘…either must die at the hand of the other…’

Harry’s breath tightened in his ill-used throat and water stung his eyes. Could he? He twisted Voldemort’s wand a bit, palms sweating. Could he kill?

The man’s wiry fingers laced about the wand, a ruthless smile brimming his face.

“I thought as much,” he breathed softly. “You can’t kill, Harry, but I…”

A scream erupted from outside. Harry’s insides boiled. His friends were in trouble. They might die. Die…

Because of Voldemort.

“Avada Kedavra!” Harry shouted it with all his heart, the injustice of all those that died at Voldemort’s hand flaring into his emotion, his love for those that died spilling his bones, and the green light of the lethal curse broke the evil wand, straight into Voldemort’s head.

There was blaring, sickening moment as Voldemort’s life was knocked form him, but once it died down, Harry gazed down at the body of his dead foe.

He glanced at the wand, still driven into the man’s temple.

‘The wand chooses the wizard…’

The wand kills the wizard too…

Tears washed Harry’s face, as the rumbling of the building above him, having taken the force of the killing curse and Voldemort’s last and wordless curse badly.

Wood rained down on his beaten body, and the dead body, and as Harry looked up, blinking, he frowned to himself.

They weren’t both supposed to die…

888

The Death Eaters knew their Master was dead the moment he died—their arms burned like fiery ash and the mark vanished…for good this time. They ceased their fighting, stunned, and the teenagers fighting them stared at them dumbfounded.

Then it clicked. And they too knew.

Yet there was no time for questioning or rejoicing—on the teenagers’ part—for the Riddle Manor suddenly shuddered darkly before collapsing in on itself, pouring in like some impounding fist had punched it from above, slamming the roof down and collecting the rest of the house on the way down.

It was a beautiful scene, really.

Yet it was ruined as the Death Eaters began to flee and the four Hogwarts students shot off spells, stunning and binding them. Once most of them were caught and the Riddle Manor was settled, they heard the yells.

“Ginny,” Ron gasped in panic, and despite his numerous wounds, he took off running, his feet smacking out from beneath him. Hermione, Neville, and Luna hot on his trail. Skidding down the hill, they slide to a halt at the scene of Ginny and a very groggy Severus Snape.

Ginny had tears streaming down her face and was ruining her hands as she feverishly dug through the rubble of the house, and Professor Snape watched her, his mouth dry, his hands itching to help her.

“Wh—what’s going on?” Hermione asked, fearful.

Ginny looked at them, her eyes washed out in tears. “Harry’s in there.” She croaked. “In the basement—under it all…”

There was nothing else to say, for suddenly everyone dived forward, wands ablaze, flinging off wood and worked in a fervor to get to The-Boy-They-Hoped-Lived…better known as their best friend, Harry.

It was like he was encased in a bubble.

He would never forget the numb horror of the house falling on him, or his weak attempts to shield himself from the debris, but even then it had been useless. Voldemort had tainted Riddle Manor with so much magic, the place was near to immune to it, like Hogwarts almost, and it just broke through his pathetic attempts.

Yet he was alive.

How?

Gazing up with unsteady, green eyes, he found that a large beam had fallen across, getting caught in the fall, and had shielded him from the rest of the debris.

Damn, life was ironic, wasn’t it? Hardly predictable like he had declared it to be. Then again, he’d done that just to annoy Voldemort. Now, it was Voldemort’s very own house was the saving him.

Though he fought the urge to look around for Voldemort’s body.

In the fall, he had rolled off it, realizing that he was on a dead body and that wasn’t where he wanted to be. Yet, somehow, he was sure Voldemort’s body had been impaled by his own house—maybe he had been cruel to the house and this was its revenge.

Nutter. He was going to become a nutter.

Gasping for ragged breath, he kept on staring at the caught debris before him. He can’t do anything though. Voldemort’s wand had been snapped by a plank of wood that Harry had narrowly avoided in being beamed with, and his wand hand—well he’s wand hand wasn’t good.

He wasn’t sure he could even get it to twitch at the moment.

It’d been impaled. He was too far into all that happened, the rush, the adrenaline, and the fear of death to feel the pain, but he was sure it was going to come back and bite him on the arse. He was afraid of that.

Tears cupped the corners of his eyes.

He wanted to know how his friends were. He wanted to be reassured that killing Voldemort hadn’t been wrong. Well, he knew it hadn’t been wrong, just…murder—that was a lot.

But at the moment, all he really wanted to do was rub his itching nose, but he couldn’t. One hand was impaled and the other was definitely broken from his fall down the basement stairs. He hadn’t realized that when he was fighting, of course, but what did that matter?

Hadn’t stopped him then, but that wasn’t the case now.

And that itch was really terrible.

Yet, he was alive.

Alive…

888

So long…it felt like he had been there for so long. Overheard he thought he heard people shouting, but he couldn’t make anything out about it. Maybe they were still fighting? He hoped not.

Don’t wars end when the Leader dies?

Of course not. If they were really loyal to Voldemort’s cause…well, then they wouldn’t’ve just stopped, now isn’t that right?

His nose still itched though and that was distracting.

There wasn’t much to do, lying there, beside sleep—but Harry didn’t want to sleep lest he wake up to find Voldemort standing over him or something—so all he could do was remember.

Ron’s face, his hair flashing in the sun, and Harry was remembering so well at the moment he could almost count all of the boy’s freckles. Then, vaguely he remembered the first time he grasped a broom and flew. The feeling of being free, of flying beyond the boundaries of what muggles didn’t think possible.

The feeling of doing magic for the first time. Finding out he was wizard by a half-giant.

Everything. He remembered it all—the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful.

Snape—the first time he met the man.

Sigh.

Snape really did seem to hate him, yet that didn’t account for all the times he had saved Harry’s neck. So many times. Almost once every year, he was sure, and if he missed it a year, it was probably because he did it twice in the last year or something strange of the like.

Funny, he thought bored. Snape was it all—the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful.

Though not as much as Hogwarts. Hogwarts was truly it all. It was in her—yes a her—that he first became a wizard, first had friends, first did magic, and first flew. It was in first in her that he met his enemy, and remembered it, first time he had his real reckless adventure and survived, been seriously injured yet survived that too.

It was the first time he had met an enemy his own age that he could stand up too, or a professor that hated him—not just Snape—or learn dirty things that people had done with magic. The first time he got a glimpse of the dark side to the Wizarding world. The first time he heard of murdering prophecies.

Yet, it was her that brought him Sirius, then took him away—in the sense of Umbridge messing things up—and the first time he found a grandfather-like figure. It was where he had his first real Christmas, or schooling, his first real winter and summer days.

Yes, Hogwarts as it all: the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful.

Flutteringly, Harry closed his eyes somewhat, relishing in all the thoughts of what he was going to do when he got back to Hogwarts. He was going to bath in the Prefect bathroom—Ron would give him the password—he was going to go recline in the Common Room, basking in the homely feel, and then go to the Kitchen, to bask in the homely smell.

Then he would set up his life again. Doing homework, studying, playing Quidditch, laughing with friends. He was going to teach Ron poker—he and Ginny had endeavored to learn it over the summer and Remus had taught them, surprisingly—and he was going to mail the ol’ werewolf.

So much. He was going to do so much.

Up till then he had taken it granted. The boredom of Professor Binns classroom. He would’ve loved to have gone on an adventure then, but not this time. He will love to sit in that resolute boredom again.

He would have a lot to do, but he was definitely going to do that. All of that.

His eyes close more deeply, his breath hummed in his chest. He would definitely do that…

Maybe a few other things to involving people, but he couldn’t figure it out just then. Maybe another time.

Yet, he had to make up with McGonagall. He shouldn’t’ve shouted at her like that the day before last. Nope, nope.

Sighing, he reclined further back into his deadened state, eased with the world, uncaring what lay in the basement next to him, and let his eyes completely close.

999

“Professor,” Ginny dropped beside her Professor, her hands bleeding freely now, her forehead covered in grim, sweat, and more blood. She was wracked up, especially with her hood down, revealing her scraped up face, yet at the moment she was too busy fiddling with the man to care.

Ron and Hermione were still digging with their wands to get to Harry, though much more calmly now. Neville had cast a spell that showed that there was a weak spirit still alive down in the basement, and the way it ebbed—he had explained—it had to be Harry’s. He learned the spell from Madame Pomfrey one day when he had been bedridden for a day due to an exploding cauldron.

Luna was standing outlook in the front yard, waiting for the Order to come. They had just received a message from Fawkes that they were attempting to break the barriers and get inside. All and all, it was very calm, yet Snape knew, vaguely in the back of his mind, that if the students didn’t get medical attention soon—well it wouldn’t be pretty.

He wasn’t even thinking of himself.

Ginny was talking to him, quietly, but he hadn’t been listening too her until that moment. “…that spell really stabilized the blood, so you needed worry about any more blood loss.” She sighed, the motherly sense that all Weasley women get spilling out of her easily. “If I had a Blood Replenishing Potion, you’d be right okay to move about. Damnit.”

She glared at him, almost accusingly. “You should really carry one in your pocket you know? Suure, a calming draught is nice, ye-ah, for a stressed out Hufflepuff, but Jesus, start carrying a Blood Replenishing Potion too, you never know when you’ll need that.” Snape could read her stress easily, especially in the way she rambled.

He hid a smirk. She would’ve done well in a Slytherin.

“What’s so funny?” she suddenly snapped, having caught Snape’s twitch of the lips. If his mouth wasn’t so dry, he would’ve retorted. Instead, he gave her a level glare that clearly stated when he was capable, they were having words.

“Ron,” Hermione panted, exhausted. She was barely standing. “We have to stop, or we’ll kill ourselves.” Ron, however, kept on digging, pushing himself to the brink. He wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t blink. “Ron!”

“Ronald!” Ginny snapped herself. “Sit down, now. You’ll do Harry no good if you kill yourself trying to rescue him. What use is a dead best friend, eh?”

Ron wasn’t easily coxed though and it took all of Hermione’s strength to draw him away, and that was only by stumbling him into a ungraceful heap beside the lying Professor Snape. The red-headed shot a look at Snape, but remained silent.

“I hope he’s all right,” Ron mumbled dejectedly as Neville set beside him, succumbing to his wounds.

“Of co’rse he is,” the boy declared lopsidedly. “It’s Harry—he always survives.”

“Yeah, you know,” Ginny grinned feebly. “Just to annoy all his enemy he has to survive.” Ron gave her a weak smile in return while Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Still,” she murmured. “I can’t believe it was a trap.”

“Should’ve figured it was,” Ron growled. “You-Know-Who and only him would find it ironic to kill Harry on the sixteenth anniversary day of his parent’s death and his defeat.” The boy clenched his hands. “I hope it hurt…him dying.”

Hermione opened her mouth, to scold him, before falling silent. She hoped it hurt too.

Ginny offhandedly rubbed Professor Snape’s shoulder, keeping his quickly chilling body warm—though Snape wasn’t sure she realized she was doing that. He couldn’t point it out though nor could he very well escape the touch seeing how he was completely useless to moving anything but his neck at the moment.

So he had to let her rub his shoulder, giving him the much needed warmth, yet he was loathed in how he received it.

“I hope Harry’s doing OK,” she breathed.

“He’s living…”

“I meant mentally,” Ginny cut in. “He just killed someone…”

“You-Know-Who is a monster, not someone…” Ron snapped, eyes flashing.

“No,” Ginny snapped. “Tom was inevitably a human being. Maybe soulless, maybe not. He was still someone, and while everyone else in the effing Wizarding World and Muggle World might think like you, Harry Potter won’t. He was raised too nicely.”

“It’s a wonder at even that,” Neville grumbled. “If I was raised in a cupboard with an Uncle like that,” he flinched. “I’d be bitter I think.”

“Hmmm…I agree,” an old, aged voice suddenly said, giving them all a start. Flipping around—or in Snape’s case, lolling his head to the side—they found Dumbledore standing on the grounds behind them, the rest of the Order members swarming in through the front gates. “Then again Harry’s a special case.”

Suddenly Luna ran up to them, breathless, before stopping. “Oh, well, nevermind, you seem to already know.” Then, unable to stand for long bouts of time on her injured legs, she sat down, promptly.

Dumbledore looked at them all with a glint of pride, his eyes taking in the scene of Ginny and Snape with flickering amusement, before his frown creased upon his face. “Where’s…”

“Headmaster,” Ron blurted, regaining himself. “The house collapsed and ‘Arry’s done there!”

“Get him out!”

“Neville did a spell, says he’s alive!”

“He killed Voldemort but we don’t know his condition!”

“Dig him out, please!”

Chuckling, Albus stepped forward and without so much as a flicker of his wand, he vanished the wood from the fallen Manor away, or at least what needed to be vanished, and gazed into the basement proudly.

From where he stood, he could see the resting Harry Potter, eyes closed, oblivious to whatever pain he was in, while behind the old wizard the other seven survivors sighed in relief, slumping completely into their injuries while Order members rushed up.

“Headmaster?” Remus Lupin asked carefully. He had appeared alongside the old wizard and was looking down at the boy fondly. “May I get him?”

Dumbledore nodded. It was Remus’s job, no matter how much he wanted to do so. As Remus scrambled down into the revealed basement carefully, Dumbledore turned to see Ron and Ginny being gingerly lifted by Arthur and Bill Weasley.

Tonks was grabbing Hermione while Moody—though he couldn’t figure out why or who the hell she was—was picking up Luna. Kingsley was crouched over Snape, assessing his injuries with a worried frown.

“Take them back to Hogwarts,” he instructed. “I’ll deal with the Ministry and Tom.”

“What’s happened to You-Know-Who?” Tonks asked, squeaking slightly.

“Why, he’s dead.” And through the startled silence he pointed a finger down at the once claimed body of Voldemort, now breathless, soulless, and impaled by wood.

Harry’s nose itched still when he came too, but alongside that annoying detail, he could smell the overwhelming stench of sterility and herbs and knew where he was. Inwardly he sighed. One day he just really wished he could walk into the Hospital Wing with the injury, really.

Blurrily he cracked open his eyes, squinting about the busy Infirmary that was festered with men and women alike, Aurors by the looks of it, breathless Ministry officials, and what appeared to be lots of Healers transferred from St. Mungos at the moment.

Yet, there had only been six of them—seven if you counted Snape, which one really did have too—and there was hardly a need for more Healers unless…

Harry’s heart suddenly jolted and he would’ve set straight up had a hand not had the fortune to befall his forehead at that very moment. Dazed, slightly surprised, he tilted his head, glad for the contact, to see Remus Lupin sitting beside him, worn but smiling nonetheless.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly, his frayed, thinning hair wafting briefly before his face. Twisting up his own face, attempting to assess his condition, he shrugged.

“Just stiff, that’s about all,” he murmured—Madame Pomfrey really was killer at her job. “But…what’s going on? What happened?”

“Do you not remember…”

“Voldemort I remember,” Harry informed hurriedly, not caring about the man’s flinch. “Yet there are so many people here.”

Remus made a silent ‘oh’, before settling more on the bed. “And how are the others,” Harry suddenly started, wanting to sit up but finding it near impossible with Remus’s restraining hand on his chest.

“You can’t move too much just yet, you’re still recovering Harry,” the man chided. “And everyone else in fine—they’re all currently asleep, grateful to miss of this commotion, I’m sure, and—”

“What of Snape?” Harry pressed. “Voldemort stabbed ‘m—is ‘e alright?”

“Professor Snape is just fine, thanks to yours and Ginny’s quick action,” he frowned though, not liking what the ‘quick action’ had entailed. “As for the rest of the stuff,” he gestured around. “While You-Know-Who had you, thoroughly distracting Dumbledore, luring him and the Order from Hogwarts, he had a group of strong Death Eaters attack the school.”

Harry’s eyes went wide in daunting horror and he looked around, almost shakily, at all beds of the Hospital Wing, most of which were actually empty. “Not to worry,” the werewolf pressed on quickly. “Thanks to the quick attention of Dumbledore’s Army,” he smiled wistfully. “The students were safe, hardly anyone was seriously injured. They had very good leadership.”

“Didn’t teach ‘em leadership,” Harry said awkwardly. “Just spells.”

“Ah, well, Ravenclaws do tend to combine well with leadership, especially alongside Gryffindors.” Remus nodded offhandedly to himself. “So not to worry about that anymore—how…”

“Why is my right hand so…” he frowned to himself, staring at his hand without really understanding. It was wrapped up tight, but not tight enough that he shouldn’t be able to move it.

“Unresponsive?” Remus supplied and Harry nodded weakly. “It was, um,” he took a breath. “Impaled straight through—Poppy says you didn’t feel it though, because your body had basically shut down at the time, yet…” he trailed off sadly.

“Yet what?” Harry demanded, needing to know.

“She did all that she can, Harry, but it’s not very likely your hand will be of any great use anymore beyond that of gripping a wand, possibly.” Harry’s stomach felt cold and if there was any color to his face, it drained out immediately.

“Does…does that mean…” he choked on his words.

“It’ll just take some practice Harry,” Remus consoled. “But you can adapt to it, many have. Though Poppy believes it best if you learn to write left-handed.” He winced. “However, if I’m inclined to believe that your handwriting hasn’t changed since third year,” Harry flushed. “That might be a bad idea—seeing how illegible it already was.”

“But I can still do magic with it right?” the boy demanded, fearing one of the worst things in his life. Being unable to work his magic.

“Of course,” Remus hurriedly reassured. “It’ll just be weaker for now until you can train your hand back up into the practice of it.” Harry sighed deeply, settling farther back into the white sheets of the bed.

All this time he had been awake, hardly a rushing soul spared him a glance, and he was glad for it.

“So everyone’s all right?” he questioned again, for good measure.

Smiling softly, Remus nodded his head. “And Voldemort?” Harry’s voice cracked. “He’s really…”

“He’s really gone this time,” the man inclined his head causing Harry to smile largely. He would’ve started whooping and dancing at that very moment in time if he wasn’t bedridden and if he wasn’t dying to avoid the attention of the Hospital Wing’s occupants.

“What else, eh?” Harry asked, lounging. “What of the Death Eaters? Of Dumbledore? Of the Ministry?”

Remus laughed out loud at this. “My, my Harry, you can’t just give up can you? Have to know it all?”

“That way I don’t have to worry about it later,” he responded smartly, a cheeky smile breaking his lips.

Shaking his head in amusement, the werewolf settled down some more. As his body shifted, Harry caught a glimpse of Ginny laid out in the bed across from him, sleeping soundly, her mother sleeping in the chair next to her. He figured Ron was on the other bed, opposite Mrs. Weasley’s side—that way she could sit in-between her children.

“Well,” Remus breath, bringing him back to attention. “The majority of the Death Eaters were caught—here and at Riddle Manor. Some still got away, and we’ve yet to know if they pose any threat.” He rubbed his jaw line. “Dumbledore’s as strange as ever,” Harry snorted. “He assured that You-Know-Who is dead this time, so it’s official.”

He reclined back farther and Harry saw that it was right about Ron’s bed. “The Ministry doesn’t know what to with itself. Seeing ‘ow it just acknowledge he was alive and then…well he’s dead now, so things are a bit chaotic at the moment.” He paused, considering his words. “You don’t have to worry about giving the telling of what happened—the others had the misfortune to be awake when Mr. Fudge came by.”

Harry grimaced. “Professor Snape covered your side of the tale of the strangling,” he peered closely at the boy, his eyes somewhat glistened with the obvious knowledge that he had almost lost Harry—twice actually, yet the choking was a bit different then the house collapsing. “The only thing you’ll have to tell is You-Know-Who’s death.”

Harry paled slightly, staring at his hands with a sort of awed fascination. “Other then that, everything is known. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were reward Order of Merlin Second Class for their fighting, honor, and courage. Ginny, Severus, and you were rewarded Order of Merlin First Class for your direct battle with You-Know-Who.”

“The others should’ve gotten First Class too,” Harry growled darkly.

“Second Class, Harry, is a big honor, and they didn’t deal directly wit You-Know-Who like you, Ginny, and Severus did.” He gave the boy a pointed look that clearly said there was a difference and he needed to know it. Harry wasn’t so sure, but he made no comment.

“What of the DA in Hogwarts?”

“Given Special Awards for their outstanding courage and leadership in protecting the school.” Remus nodded and Harry smiled slightly. At least everyone was getting acknowledged for their triumphs.

Sighing, he succumbed even farther into his pillows, staring dreamily up ahead of him. Everything was over…he couldn’t believe it.

“You happy Harry?” Remus asked quietly and the boy glanced over.

“It’ll take a while to truly get use to it,” he informed tiredly. “But I will be.”

888

“Bloody hell ‘Arry, you write terribly with your left hand,” Ron breathed, staring at the parchment that Harry had just scribbled on. It was two days after he had awoken to the chaotic Hospital Wing, and since then everything had calmed down.

The Wing had actually been closed off the day after Harry awoke and all the students of Hogwarts had been sent home to their families. Dumbledore felt they needed to be with their families at such a time in History—that and they needed to repair Hogwarts in several places.

The Weasleys hadn’t even asked to take Ginny and Ron home, seeing how their injuries would keep them bedridden the whole impromptu break that Hogwarts was having. They had been pumping off so much adrenaline that it hadn’t been until they rested their bodies that their injuries had been really shown.

Luna shouldn’t have even been walking with the state her legs were in, same thing with Ron and his chest, while Hermione and Ginny were lucky to see be moving after some of the blows to their ribcages they took.

“Thanks,” Harry grumbled sarcastically as he shoved the parchment away. Madame Pomfrey had set him to learning to write with his left hand, telling him it would take a very long time to master it, and seeing how they had spare time he might as well start.

Ron had gotten a new bed, after much pleading and grumbling, and it was right next to Harry’s. Harry was rather annoyed with the change now.

“You should keep practicing Harry,” Hermione declared purposely from her bed, laid out with a cast wrapped about her knee, keeping it straight.

“Later,” Harry said sourly, shifting restlessly on his bed. His back had taken most of the damage during the fight, and now, along with his salved over neck, he couldn’t move much to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure what his back looked like, but he had a suspicion that Madame Pomfrey had just tapped the bandages in lumps to his back they way they felt.

“Oy, Ginny,” Ron smiled longingly. “Can I ‘ave one of those Chocolate Frogs?”

“Nope,” the girl said without a glance up from her book.

“What?” Ron openly gaped at her. “But you’re not even eating yours!”

“Eat one of your own,” she snapped.

“Don’t ‘ave anymore.”

“Then whose fault is that?” Ginny peered over the rim of her book, smirking. Ron huffed out, gaping momentarily like a fish, before settling on glaring darkly at his younger sister.

Finally, before anything else could be said, the doors opened and the usual swarm of families collided in. The Grangers had been called the very night of Halloween, while Luna’s Dad, somewhat in his own daze of life—Harry no longer wondered where she got it—had seemingly rushed in without any having sent him word of what had happened.

He had just known. Something or another about an informant of an animal or another that Hermione didn’t believe existed. All and all, it worked out. Neville’s Gran even came, along with a brief visit from his Uncle—you know? The crazy one that held him out of a window by the ankles in hopes of him showing magic. Yeah that’s right.

Harry had Remus, which was good enough for him. He might’ve died in shock had the Dursleys came—though he was informed quietly by Professor McGonagall that they had been sent a letter.

Remus smiled a crooked smile at Harry as he limped by, but he didn’t stop, making a straight line for the very sullen, irritated Severus Snape, who wasn’t allowed out of the Hospital Wing, due to his injuries either.

Clearly he was pissed at having to spend time in the same room with no escape with a group of irritating students that he rather not look at, let alone inhabit a room with. All and all, it was very sweet.

Mrs. Weasley bustled over to Ron, tutting over his disinclination to the medicine he was supposed to drink and scolding him for his whines over it tasting bad, before rounding onto Harry. The boy inwardly cringed.

The night he had awoken to Remus, Mrs. Weasley had woken an hour later. Then, after asking if he was all right, proceeded to lay into him about what he did with You-Know-Who, and how foolish it had been, tackling and fighting him so barbarically.

Yes, barbarically—she said that. Then said she was going to figure out who had control of his punishment and was going to request a sever grounding on his part. Remus had conspicuously snuck away.

When Ron had found about this, he had just snorted over a chocolate frog, and said: “Only Mum can chew someone out for getting rid of the Darkest Lord of the Century, honestly.”

Rubbing his nose tiredly, Harry propped himself up better when he suddenly felt the timing air of a very annoyed mother standing beside him. Glancing sheepishly to his side, he found Mrs. Weasley towering over him in all her plump glory.

“Why aren’t you working on your writing?” she demanded, her voice carrying a very sharp edge, causing almost everyone to fall silent.

“Heh,” Harry flushed red in awkwardness. “Just, erm, you know, taking a momentary break,” he looked at his clock-less wrist. “Oh and look at the time, it’s over.” Instantly he reached forward, with his bandages right hand that was still weak to respond, and pulled the parchment forward.

“You need to work on that—how else do you expect to do you school work, hmmm?” but she didn’t wait for an answer, making it clear that it was a rhetorical question and that he should think it over, before bustling off to fret over Ginny.

Cutting a sideways glance at Ron, who was looking at him sympathetically. “I’d just prefer not to do it really.”

Ron snorted and nodded in agreement. They could almost hear Hermione’s scoffing from where she lay, talking with her father. Luna and Mr. Lovegood were just sort of staring at each other, obviously having a silent conversation.

Finally, Dumbledore arrived, easing Harry’s hand down greatly—then again he’d only written one line, but to anyone watching carelessly it would’ve looked like more—and everyone fell silent to watch the aged wizard.

“It is now official,” he declared, lifting up a document that was printed with ivory lining and so official looking Harry half expected it to be laminated. In the other, he held up a Daily Prophet. “Tom has been declared dead to the world.”

Instantly everyone let out whoops of cheering—or rather the children did, while the parents did so in a more dignified way, smiling largely—and Harry and Ron swung out of bed, smacking each other’s hands.

Silent from his corner of the Hospital Wing, relieved but not wanting to show it, Severus Snape watched it all, Remus Lupin sitting beside him, discussing some infernal topic that he could’ve cared less about. Moving his onyx eyes about the Wing, he settled on Harry and Ron, who were slapping hands laughingly.

Just a boy.

That’s all Harry Potter had been. Just a boy.

Killing would take some of that away. But still, he was just a boy.

Dumbledore gilded all the way forward, passing off the document and Prophet, consulting some of the parents or students, but it was written in his eyes.

Snape sighed slightly in relief and Remus looked at him. The werewolf merely raised an eyebrow in questioning.

“So it ends,” Snape breathed and Remus inclined his head, roaming his eyes back to Harry.

Thankfully.

“Oy, listen to this,” Ron said, scanning his letter in slight disdain. “This bloke says that I fought ‘very well, but let’s save that conversation for another time’,” Ron snorted. “I’m not having a chat with this bloke ever. And then he proceeds to ask me what sort of herbal tea I drink? What in hell does that have to do with anything?”

Harry glanced up from his pile of letters—actually it wasn’t really a pile, not for any of the seven bedridden at the moment, it was a nifty box at the end of the bed, piled high sorted letters—and smiled at his friend.

“Say you drink it Irish,” he declared causing Hermione and Ginny to instantly snort loudly, Madame Pomfrey, who was missing with her medicine cabinets to glare at him sternly, and Ron to smirk evilly.

“That I might just do,” he breathed.

“I would reframe from such an act, Mr. Weasley,” Snape’s silky voice slithered out abruptly. “It would spread rumors.” Ron glanced at the Professor, annoyed, while Harry rolled his eyes before sitting down his letter.

Snape was a strange fellow and that was that. There was no way about it. They all been in the Hospital Wing for three days, and he barely uttered a word—beside the occasional insult, sarcastic remark, or ‘helpful advice’ that really sounded like ‘just go shoot yourself’ advice.

Though Harry would never forget the look he had when Dumbledore declared that he was going to let the letters of the public come through to the Hospital Wing so they could sort them out, read them and figure out who they wanted to respond to, and the man looked like he was ready to spontaneously combust, or rather, leave the Wing and turn anyone who dared to interfere with his departure into ingredients for his next potion.

Somehow he did neither, yet, the look was still there. Since then he had enclosed himself in his curtains of the bed, neither touching nor looking at the letters. It wasn’t until they were nearly overflowing and Madame Pomfrey kept stepping and nearly slipping on them that he even considered looking at them.

Apparently, from Ginny’s quick fingers having stole one when the man slept, they just letters of praise for finding the ‘light’ and being the responsible adult in a bad situation. Other then that, many were just requesting proper potions ingredients.

A bit like several of Harry’s requested helpful tips on Quidditch, or Ron’s being herbal tea.

“Well,” Luna’s dreamy voice suddenly woke up. “You know what they say, the more herbal tea you drink, the more freckles you have.”

Ron just blinked at her, while Ginny and Harry shared a long, amused look, and Hermione just ignored her. Neville didn’t seem to have heard, engulfed in a terribly long letter that dropped from his hands onto his bed.

Poor boy.

“Erm, right,” Ron cleared his throat awkwardly as the girl turned back to her letters. “You know, mate,” he hissed at Harry. “Starting to become fond of the little nutter.”

Harry snorted in his letter, successfully showing that old man from Newberry what he thought of teenagers ‘this day and age’ before tossing it to the side. He had a pile of letters he was going to respond to, and ones he wasn’t.

The ones he wasn’t was infinitely higher then the ones he was.

“Hey,” Fred suddenly bounded into the Hospital Wing, earning a disproving look from Madame Pomfrey. “Guess what,” he waved a group of Daily Prophets in his hand. “You’re all stars.”

“Yeah!” George leapt in after him, frog-hopping his twin.

“Well honestly,” Madame Pomfrey huffed out, stalking off.

“Stars?” Ron asked, annoyed with a letter.

“Aye,” Fred threw a Prophet at him. “Whole issue, dedicated to just you guys.” George and Fred passed out all the Prophets to the bedridden souls, Fred being the brave one and daring to walk past Snape’s glaring shield, before setting back, laughing almost.

Looking down, Harry found a picture of the group of them all standing and laughing in their Halloween Costumes. The one that Dumbledore had taken.

HALLOWEEN FIGHTERS THAT DESTORYED YOU-KNOW-WHO

Well that was a, um, nifty headline.

Flipping the pages, he found himself staring at him from the first page, blinking and waving slightly, his smile weak. It was a picture he had never known had been taken. He was sitting in the Great Hall during a study period apparently.

Skimming the page, he found that it recited his side of the story, and some of his back history. He had that longest section—go figure—but soon the rest of the ‘seven’ had their parts, each with their own page article.

All of the teenagers’ pictures were somewhat bemused, never having known their picture was taken, except Luna—who just hadn’t cared—and Snape, who just glared at the camera, scowling and glaring at any who dared to look at the picture, let alone in real-life.

Snape was the only adult in the whole ‘seven’ and therefore, next to Harry, he had the longest article himself. Secretly Harry grinned to himself—whatcha think of the fame, ‘our new celebrity’ Professor Snape? Yet, his story was highly abridged, and he wasn’t known as the spy that he had been, nor was he receiving the acknowledgement of what he had done as a spy.

Tossing the Prophet aside, uncaring, Harry glanced about the Wing.

All the others, beside Snape—who merely glanced at his article and tossed it aside himself—seemed to be rather taken with their articles and their limelight. He sighed to himself.

Maybe they would be more content with the fame then Harry himself was.

Casting his eyes around, he briefly met Snape’s, and for a moment they just stared at each other, neither loathingly, angrily, or anything really—except there was a slight silence of an agreement to each other.

They had accepted each other’s ‘thanks’.

Then Harry broke eye-contact, and went to his hand lessons which weren’t improving.

Harry stretched out his left aching leg, his breath vibrating quietly in his chest. Crouched down, caught between the beds of the Infirmary, he and Ron evened out their breath in the seeping darkness of the night.

All around, the other souls of the Wing slept, Neville snoring somewhat, while Ginny and Hermione puttered slightly with their breath. Sharing a sideways look with each other, the two mischievous boys nodded in agreement, and using a stealth that they really shouldn’t’ve contained, they crept forth into the open and out of the Hospital Wing without a fault.

Once they were out of the Wing, they relished in their impromptu freedom, smirking and swatting hands briefly. They had been cramped up in the Wing for six days straight, and while they seemed completely healed, Madame Pomfrey didn’t dare to believe so.

So they had taken matters into their own hands in getting out.

Sure, it was at midnight when they found their freedom, but it was better then nothing.

“Come, mate, let’s check out this Party thing in the Great Hall,” Ron gestured them down the corridor, and smiling at each other, they walked off. “You know, I still think sneaking about under the Invisibility cloak is better, but it’s good to know we can without out.”

“Ron,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “The castle’s empty—literally. I think we could’ve just walked out of the Hospital Wing and have survived.” His freckly friend burned a bright red but stubbornly remained silent as they walked the rest of the way.

In no time at all they were creaking open the doors of the Great Hall and peering in. The four house tables were no longer there, and only the Head Table was still there—yet from where the two boys stood, it looked like the hall was littered with round tables and center pieces.

Decorations of the Hogwarts Houses hung about the hall, with banners, with streamers, with signs and with lots of litter tidbits here and there. There was a fashioned banner that Harry had the suspicion the twins snuck up that read: THE DEMISE PARTY in large letters laughingly.

“Can you believe it?” Ron breathed, straightening up as he walked all the way in.

“Overdone if you asked me,” Harry muttered as he stared around blandly.

“Not that,” Ron turned to him, his eyes glinting. “You-Know-Who being dead, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, his throat strangely tight. Glancing down at his hands, he cringed and looked away. “I guess it is—we can really get to life, can’t we?”

“What are we going to get around to doing then?” Ron fiddled with the fabric that was spread over a round table. “I was thinking of doing somethin’ else then being an Auror Professional Quidditch player, eh?” Harry smirked. He wished Ron the best of luck with that.

“How ‘bout Captain Hooker?” he asked, causing the boy to swat at him.

“Oh buggar off,” he grumbled sourly causing Harry to laugh at him. Yet, he quickly looked away, caught in his own confusing thoughts. Did he want to be an Auror anymore? It was all he had thought about being…maybe, maybe he could change it.

He glanced at his hands again.

Voldemort might’ve been a monster to all—but he was still a breathing human and Harry had taken his life. Briefly he closed his eyes, taking deep calming breaths.

“Oy, mate, let’s move some of this around,” Ron grinned wickedly causing Harry to momentarily forget his hands.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Yet, you know,” he rubbed his cheek. “It’ll be back to the same by tomorrow night.”

888

“Harry,” a hand shook his shoulder, bringing him out of his daze. Shaking his head, slightly surprised, he turned away from the Hospital Wing window, turning to look at Ginny. “Can’t start this party without you, ya know?”

Rubbing his unruly black hair, Harry smiled lopsidedly. “Yeah, right,” he chuckled distantly. Turning, he looked at everyone that was shifting about the Hospital Wing, all restless in their new, itchy dress robes.

Ron looked slightly flushed in his new, brand new dress robe that didn’t have lace or tears in it, while Luna was smiling elegantly in her green dress robe, though she seemed off balanced without her bottleneck necklace.

He watched them all with a sort of detachment, feeling slightly drawn from them all, his head somewhat pounding with something he knew wasn’t a headache. Hermione was talking amiably with Remus Lupin, smiling and gesturing with her hands about something amazing she had just read in a medical book, while Luna was talking lopsidedly to Neville, who was attempting in vain to explain the true properties of some plant.

“Harry,” Ginny’s hand gently touched his elbow, startling him. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” he smiled weakly at her. “Just, erm, you know, not really looking forward to this.”

“Truly, Mr. Potter?” a voice drawled from behind them suddenly. Pivoting harshly on their heel, they found Snape standing there, donning his usual black robes, they just looked a bit silkier this time. “And here I thought you would like the added fame.”

Ginny instantly growled, her lips twitching with a comment.

Yet, before she could speak, Harry just shrugged indifferent. “Think whatever the hell you want to.” Then he turned and walked off, leaving two surprised souls in her wake. Twitching, he rubbed his hands on his robes, feverishly.

It hadn’t happened—the stains he meant. They hadn’t come until he had explain to Dumbledore how Voldemort was killed. Until then, maybe he really hadn’t thought about it, or maybe he had been repressing it, but thinking about it…caused them.

Taking a breath, he saddled up alongside Ron, who gave him a sheepish smile and pulled at the neck of his robes, worried. “Think it’ll be bad?”

“Nah,” Harry said, attempting to add something to his voice. “It’ll be over before we know it, right?”

Ron didn’t look relieved but Harry was saved from further conversation when the door to the Hospital Wings opened and Dumbledore, trailed by McGonagall and Flitwick—their respected Head of Houses. The Headmaster was smiling largely, giving Harry the impression that he might just throw out his arms at any given moment.

“Come, come,” the man beckoned. “The party is to begin when you arrive.” Harry wondered if the man knew half the people there didn’t want to even attend the ‘Demise Party’. “Now some of the students of the school have taken an early train back to be here, but most of the people you probably won’t know.”

For a moment he looked somewhat sympathetic. “But we mustn’t stall.” This time he waved his hands around, indicating that they should follow their Head of Houses. Luna being the only one not from the same house was instantly swooped up in Flitwick’s small arms and lead out.

McGonagall was much more formal with the affair, though there was no mistaken the proud twitching of her lips. Hermione took the lead, seeing that no one else was, quickly followed by Ron, Ginny, and Harry.

The youngest Weasley shot Harry a concerned look, but the boy gave her a feeble, reassuring smile that wasn’t half believed by the girl. Instead she roamed her eyes behind the boy, meeting eyes with someone who was behind him, and then they started to walk off.

It was a jittery affair to the Great Hall, everyone fiddling nervously with their new dress robes, especially the louder that the noise got the closer they got. Harry had a feeling he was drawing backwards, slowly down his step until a hand pressed into the small of his back, pushing him forward.

Frowning, he looked over to see who it was, but the swarm of everyone bundling up before the Great Hall doors crowded the mysterious hand away, and he was stuck looking at Luna’s and Neville’s tinted faces.

“Whoa, it’s loud,” Neville said breathless. “Think there’s a lot of people in there?” There wasn’t a need for that question.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dumbledore smiled slightly before opening the doors to the Great Hall with a wave of his hand. Instantly the chatter and the laughter fell silent, only broken by the scraping of chairs as everyone stood up, and in a silently line they all walked in.

For a moment, the light of the hall blurred out their faces, making the hundreds of people faceless, somewhat relieving Harry, and then as the silence broke with an eruption of applause, causing everyone in the line to blush—excluding Snape.

Settling themselves at their designated seats at the Head Table, the six teenagers glanced about at each other, slightly flustered, though Ron—despite his burning cheeks—seemed somewhat taken with all the limelight that was shining down upon him.

Awkwardly rubbing his hands, Harry turned to see Dumbledore standing up, in the center of the table, his arms held wide for silence.

“A great deed was done for us by these seven—six of whom are students and one of whom is a trusted employee and friend—and seeing how they did us a greatdeed, we should return this favor to them tonight. A dark evil had been killed, so come and celebrate the ‘Demise Party’—or so the lovely Weasley Twins have so elegantly put it,” several people chuckled. “Let’s come to life again.”

Clapping his hands, a swarm of food appeared. “Tuck in!” he called out, before taking a seat. Loud, gracious chatter filled the air as everyone clattered to grab food and talk to their neighbors.

Skimming the hall, he found that the Weasley twins were secretly passing out Fire Whiskey to all those students underage. Harry caught Ron’s eye and smirked laughingly.

“Well honestly,” Hermione huffed out tightly, staring at the twins with amounting annoyance. “Always breaking the rules.”

“Hmm…this coming from who?” Ginny asked, flicking her fork at the bushy haired girl.

“Hush,” Hermione flushed a bit through the chatter. “You know as well as I do, I just go to keep those two boys out of trouble,” both Harry and Ron gasped indignantly.

“Us?” Ron gestured to the two of them. “In trouble?”

“Never?” Harry scoffed. Hermione rolled her eyes while Neville laughed over his steak. A slight, eased silence fell over them as they ate and greeted the people that they knew and didn’t know came up to them.

Harry found frustrating that he could barely get through a bite without a man or woman swaggering up to them, while Ron found it grand, recapping several stories and Hermione finally just settled on pretending to be talking to Ginny deeply so that they weren’t bothered.

“What do you think of You-Know-Who being dead?”

“What was it like, getting rid of your greatest enemy?”

“Do you think you got revenge for your parents?”

“Do you feel his death atoned for all his wickedness, Mr. Potter?”

“What to plan on doing, now that You-Know-Who is dead?”

“Were you scared when you fought him?”

The questions whirled and swam about Harry’s head, engulfing and gnawing at him. Every time someone said ‘You-Know-You’ and ‘dead’ in the same sentence, he had to bite back a cringe. He fended off the questions with murmurs, and if the asked him to repeat, he would murmur again.

After a while they backed off.

Eventually, as all the others got up to go talk to the DA table, which was getting acknowledgement too, Harry slipped off to the side. Making sure no one was watching him, he escaped out of the Great Hall, vigorously rubbing his hair, fraying it out, horribly, completely distraught.

Looking at his hands, he grimaced and without a backwards glance he fled the Entrance Hall, making beeline for Moaning Myrtle’s Bathroom. Skidding across the slightly wet floor, ignoring Myrtle’s wails of despair, he fell before one of the sinks.

Turning on the water, he scrubbed his hands with soap, vigorously washing away at the stains. Yet, they weren’t going away—his hands blistered red, not the blood, dripping red that came from stealing a life, but red from rubbing his hands raw.

Tears cupped the corners of his eyes, but it wouldn’t go away.

Make it go away!

“Hello,” Myrtle sniffled. “What are you doing?” she floated over, her pigtails jittering about her head waspishly. “You never nipped in to see me, you know? Like you promised.”

“Go away,” Harry snarled, at his hands, not at Myrtle, but the poor ghost took offense nonetheless and huffing out sourly she glided away.

“Fine, fine,” she sniffled. “Be rude like that—all boys are.” She floated back into her toilet and wailed even louder.

The read wouldn’t go away, it was still there, rippling and dribbling across his hands, and all he could see was the blood stain. Back and forth, up and down, scrubbing, rubbing, breaking them raw and bloodied. Soap stung his the raw, dryness, water washed away nothing that he wanted it to wash—it wouldn’t stop.

“Potter!” a voice shouted suddenly from behind him. “Potter, you imbecile stop,” someone ran forward, prying a hand into his shoulder. “Stop this.”

“It won’t go away,” Harry ground out, fighting against the hand. “Hafta make it go away.”

“You can’t, Potter,” the arm shifted, wrapping around his chest and yanking him backwards. The boy thrashed against the arms, trying to get back to the sink, but his feet were too slippery on the bathroom floor and he lost all gripping.

Stumbling backwards, straight into the chest of the man, he stared in horror at this hands. “Make it go away,” he moaned in disdain.

“It won’t Mr. Potter,” the voice said easily in his ear, quiet and subtle. “It’s there for life…”

“He was a monster.”

“Still he was a human.”

“He said I couldn’t do it.”

“You did though.”

“Make it go away,” he dropped a bit, but the arm across his chest heaved him up.

“It won’t Mr. Potter,” the voice informed, harsher. “You need to snap out of it, too. What’s done is done. Destroying your hands will make no difference, understood? One hand is weak already, you don’t need to handicap yourself anymore.”

Harry blinked for several moments, staring at his hands, slowly unseeing them, allowing the words to settle in, before raising his eyes to look in the mirror. He started in surprise.

It was Snape.

Instantly the boy pulled free and he turned around to face the man, who was gazing at him with a slight sneer. “Dumbledore sent me after you,” he informed impassively. “Make sure you didn’t do something drastic. He’s worried about your mental health.”

“I’m not a nut,” Harry muttered feverishly.

“Hmm…well could’ve fooled me,” Snape informed crisply and Harry glared at him.

Silently, he turned, brushed out his dress robes somewhat, and made to walk away. He glanced helplessly at his hands though. “Potter,” Snape called out to him, dragging him to a halt. “Don’t let it control you—it’ll just eat you alive if you did.”

Harry tipped his head back, eyes bowed down so not to meet the man’s reading eyes. “I wasn’t ready.”

“No,” Snape concurred. “You weren’t ready—however, it’s done. Live again, boy.” With that last snarl to his word, he stalked by the boy, his robes billowing out dramatically. “Get back to the party—if I have to be there, so do you.”

Harry didn’t go immediately, instead he lingered a bit to allow Snape enough time to get back there himself, before leaving the bathroom himself.

It wouldn’t be so easy, he realized. Getting back to his life. Those plans that he had were going to be harder then he thought. Wincing he looked down at his hands. They were scalded from his scrubbing.

Pulling out his wand, he weakly murmured a spell over them, shielding their damage for the time, before returning to the party. As soon as he slipped through the door, he felt Snape’s eyes bore into him, having been waiting darkly for him to return, but Harry didn’t grace him with a look.

Taking a breath, he walked over to the DA table and joined the chatter with a plastered smile.

“Hey, Harry,” Neville smiled at him, imploring. “We’ve been talking, about the DA and all, and we were wondering if we could keep it running.”

Harry smiled at them, feeling his spirit lift just a bit. “Well of course,” he laughed toothily at them. “Wouldn’t dream of getting rid of it.”

Invigorated by the news, instantly the table got louder, and soon everyone was swooned up in conversation. Offhandedly, Harry got into a conversation with Ernie and Justin over some DA issues—they were explaining how certain lessons had inevitably helped him—while Ginny glowered at Cho Chang, who that the misfortune to say something against her Quidditch team.

All and all, it seemed to be settling down…something per se to a new life.

Harry didn’t even remember the end of the party, the retreat to Gryffindor Tower, or falling into his bed, completely clothed, and instantly asleep.

The cackling fire of the Gryffindor Common Room filled it lazily as the students streamed in and out. It’d been a week since the Demise Party and the impromptu Hogwarts break had finally ended.

Everyone had returned on a Sunday, ready to go back to classes tomorrow, and Harry had been hounded by nearly all of them, as were the others. For the first time he had found a chance to recline, and was doing so not in the most conventional way—yet the most effective way he could think of.

Doing homework.

No one bothered a student doing their homework, interrupting their studies for they understood how annoying and tiresome it was to have it happen to them, so they didn’t do it to anyone else.

Ron, however, thought him mental.

“Why are you doing it mate?” Ron hissed over the table. “I mean, we got it before Halloween, which was a Thursday, and we would’ve had enough time to turn it in had it not been for the You-Know-Who thing, so you know…we can get out of it because of that.”

“Just don’t want people bothering me,” Harry informed causal and Ron rolled his eyes.

“Then read or play chess…”

“They’ll still bother me,” Harry retorted causing Ron to flush. “Why does it matter? It’s my homework, not yours.”

“Hermione’s got two essays she hasn’t even done,” Ron breathed quietly, so not to attract that girl’s attention. “She’s not going to do it. We can get out of it by using the excuse of the You-Know-Who incident.”

“Sorry Ron,” Harry bit out. “I’m not gonna use Voldemort effing death to get out schoolwork.” The boy flinched a bit before sitting back, heatedly.

“Fine,” he spat. “Be that way.” Then slamming backwards, he stormed off. Harry watched him walk off with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s the matter with him?” he asked Ginny, who happened to be sitting the closest to him.

“For once, you’re equal in the limelight,” Ginny informed quietly. “Ron feels like you two will agree upon more things and do more things ‘cause of this. Not to worry, he did it with Bill when they both met the Goldberg Brothers.”

“Who?”

“Another band for Wizards,” Ginny said patiently. “Everyone in the Weasley household, beyond that of me, was obsessed. When Ron and Bill met ‘em, they were heroes. Give Ron time, he’ll come around to remembering how to hide from the light.”

“’Kay,” Harry rubbed his jaw line, tired.

“Why are you doing your homework?”

“It’s really the reason I told Ron,” Harry shrugged. “Get people to bugger off, ya know?” He glanced darkly at a group of second years that were lingering about.

“Give it time,” Ginny said softly. “They’ll back off, they always do.”

Harry snorted—they haven’t backed off from sixteen years earlier, why should they back off now? Rubbing his eyes tiredly for a moment, he leaned back.

“You glad to be getting back to life?”

“To the schoolwork of a fifth year student,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Ooh yeah, just dying too.” She flipped the page of her book, roughly. “Hermione’s a bitch with studying—hounding me every second I get.”

Smiling at her apologetically, Harry stretched back and started once again on his Potions homework. The sad part, really, was that he was halfway good at it—or at least in understanding.

A few weeks before the ‘Ball’, he been wracked with insomnia and so in a desperate attempt to get to sleep, he’d gone into the library, grabbed the first book that was in the potions section, and prayed it would make him fall asleep like most potions books did.

Unfortunately, yet somewhat fortunately, it hadn’t. Instead it held his interest, showed him a different way to look at potions, and far from put him too sleep—which really was bad for his test in Transfigurations the next day.

888

It was quiet when Harry woke up the next morning, all his roommates sleeping soundly and deeply, and with a quiet padding of his feet, he collected his things and cut into the bathroom.

For a brief moment, as he changed his clothing, he flexed his hand, cringing from the tight, stiff ache that had been created in it, and twisted his left hand. He couldn’t write with his life hand still and it took a lot of effort to curve his right hand to the skill of a quill, so until his hand worked up to spam, he was given a talking quill.

They weren’t allowed in Hogwarts expect for special cases, and Harry’s case warranted one. It was simply a quill that you told what to write and did.

Sighing from his aching hand, Harry rolled the rest of his body, stretching it out somewhat, before quietly leaving the dorms. Escaping through the dawn-lit corridors of the school, Harry nodded a greeting to the other wandering ‘Dawn Risers’ before cutting outside.

Once he reached the Quidditch pitch, he stretched out his legs, and set off in an alluring, escaping, brisk jog about the field. It freed his mind, allowing him nothing but peace to escape it all. He didn’t have to think about what happened or what was going to happen.

Voldemort never died at his hand. The others never almost died themselves. His hands were stained red and he wasn’t a savior. When he ran, he was just Harry. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was exhilarating.

After a while, he started to work on speed. Doing straight, slowly increasing sprints, relishing in the natural high he got, breathing in the fresh crisp air. Back and forth he ran, hard as he could. Possibly he was running to escape, but he didn’t care.

It was nice, just running.

Finally, he drew to a stop, hunched over and panting for breath. Sweat trickled down his brow, and propping up he smiled largely. It felt good, he felt free.

Shaking his legs out, he stretched slightly toward the sky, and started a warm-down job toward the school. One day he would fast. Real fast. So fast maybe you couldn’t even see him run.

That was his plan.

To run fast.

Jogging back to the school, he cut through the slowly filling corridors, and into the showers. Once he was done there, flexing his right hand in and out, he walked lazily down to Breakfast.

Ginny and Hermione smiled in greeting to him as he flopped down, piling up his plate with eggs and toast.

“Morning,” he smiled at them causing the girls to glance at him suspiciously. “What?”

“What’s the matter if you?” Ginny prodded. “You’ve been silent and acting all week—what’d you do this morning, eh?” She smirked wickedly. “Been getting into Snape’s Pepper-Up potions?”

Harry snorted, hurriedly covering his mouth to keep food from flipping out. “Snape…” he choked. “Pepper-Up…Potions?”

“Yeah,” Ginny crossed her arms. “How else do you think he manages his glare all throughout breakfast—he’s here before anyone is too. Just look at the smugness of that glare,” she nodded her head the Head Table. “Has to be Pepper-Up induced.”

Laughing, Harry glanced over his shoulder at the glaring Snape, who seemed to find threatening his toast before he ate was the wisest action. “I thought Pepper-Ups make you preppy though…”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “It’s Professor Snape we’re talking about here.”

“Yeah, that means everything,” Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione grunted sourly into her plate, but made no comment to the conversation that was being held. “Anyway, where’s Ron?”

“Where do you think?” Hermione shook her head. “Sleeping in as late as he possibly can.” Harry nodded in agreement and went back to eating.

As more and more of the school filed in, they talked and waved at him, Ginny, and Hermione like they were the best of friends, having never been apart from each other for more then a moment.

To say they weren’t all flustered angrily by the time they got up to leave for their first class was a lie. Though Ron was too busy thinking over the way to swing ‘the excuse’ to truly notice any of it.

Yet, he hadn’t needed to think about swinging it, Flitwick gave them—he, Neville, Harry, and Hermione—automatic leave-way for all of their homework for the next week, insisting they have time to settle and get use to it.

McGonagall’s nostrils flared, but she gave Ron an extended time leave-way with homework for the rest of the week too, before cutting a glance at Harry, expecting the same thing, but the boy stubbornly remained silent. Hermione requested just a day extra.

Ron and Harry couldn’t stop gaping.

Ginny apparently used ‘the excuse’ to her best extent with all the homework piling up on her, while Luna just seemed oblivious to the chance. Neville more or less followed Ron’s suit, who seemed to take the nervous boy under his wing.

Hermione was disproving of it all, and as they walked into Snape’s classroom on Wednesday afternoon, she laid into Harry and Ron—who were only in Potions by requests from Dumbledore, though they could be kicked out at any time—and while Ron had the grace to look ashamed, Harry didn’t pay attention.

Instead his eyes traveled to Malfoy, who was jeering at him snidely as he consulted Blaise, and then he moved on to the rest of the small class that was mainly Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Hermione, Ron, Harry were the only Gryffindors in that particular class.

There were two other N.E.W.T level Potions classes in the week, one where Harry was just with Neville, and the other where Harry was conspicuously alone. He had a feeling that was Snape’s doing, but didn’t say anything about it. Ron luckily was never alone, or he might’ve had a heart-attack, while Hermione had to deal with Ron in both other classes.

She seemed a little stressed about that.

Settling down at their desk in the back, Harry was settled on the table by himself, while Ron and Hermione set up directly next to him.

“Think I should try it on him?” Ron asked, gesturing his head toward Snape, who was sitting in the front, scribbling away at parchment.

“Only if you wish a short-lived life,” Harry hissed back and the boy groaned.

“Well honestly, you deserve it for abusing it so badly,” Hermione scolded causing the red-head to roll his eyes.

“Give it up, ‘Mione,” he groaned. “I’m only doing it for my health. You know studying causes brain damage.” Harry winced while Hermione instantly rounded on the boy.

“Not the smartest thing, mate,” the boy mumbled as he drew a foot to the side, allowing Hermione’s timing rage to only engulf Ron.

“Class!” Snape’s voice suddenly barked out, startling everyone out of their idle chatter. Yet, it was his sudden control of the class that saved Ron a brutal tongue-lashing. “You’ve had a break, I know, but I severely hope you didn’t let your small brains rot anymore then they have.”

Harry felt Ron’s grimace from where he stood. “Today’s potion will be easy enough, I regret to inform you. However, you’ll have to figure out what potion it is to be exact—ten points will be added if you get it right.” He waved his hand, conjuring up the ingredients. “Now, begin!”

Instantly there was rummage of movement as everyone got out their books and set to gathering up the ingredients. Walking with Ron, they gathered their ingredients, before retreating back to their cauldrons and quietly setting to their work.

Flipping through the book, his mind tingling a bit with the familiarity of the potion, Harry stared at the ingredients for a quizzing moment before realizing it. In the book he hoped would make him fall asleep, it had spoken of a potion that added dragon hair and bat wings together with a counter-clockwise turn.

A rare combination…

What had that potion been?

Distracted, he started to make the potion, his mind spinning circles around the information, trying to place it to a certain, specific potion.

Blue-Jay Blues

Struck with a realization, Harry let his potion stew a shimmering red for five minutes before flipping quickly through his Potions book. Then on page 126 he found it.

Ha!

It was exactly the same potion that had once been on the blackboard, though Snape had gotten rid of it by then, and inwardly Harry smirked to himself. Now, imagine that.

By the end of the class, everyone had a potion that was shimmering a milky white color that was either slightly off or on cue. Hermione’s, of course was, as were Malfoy’s and Parkinson’s. Most everyone else had a bit of a off-white color.

Snape stalked, quipping out comments, before stopping before Harry’s desk. Distracted by Hermione’s gripping to Ron, he didn’t pay much attention to Snape’s roaming eyes that took in his whole work area, before the man cleared his throat.

Involuntarily, Harry looked at the man, narrowing his green eyes somewhat. “Amazingly, it’s somewhat presentable,” the man growled quietly. “But I suggest you improve you act, Mr. Potter, if you want to stay in my class.”

With that, he swooped off, leaving Harry to share a long look with Ron.

“Seeing how you’re all done, you can bottle up your potions,” everyone started to move. “After I get the answer for what this potion is.” Instantly hands shot up, but knowing that the Potions Master was going to ignore him Harry didn’t even bother.

Why waste his energy?

Instead he set to the tedious task to scribbling out his name on a tag with his left hand. It was only the ‘H’ and the ‘P’ that were readable though. Then again, not many had the initials ‘HP’, so he figured it would be all right.

“Miss Parkinson then?” Snape asked, as Malfoy answered wrongly.

“That’s terrible, mate,” Ron whispered, looking back at his tag. “Want me to write it out for you?”

“Wrong, Miss Parkinson, but five points for trying. Mr. Boot?” Snape’s voice rose a bit, to gain attention of several of those he had lost.

“’Cause you know, that git would probably just take off points for illegibility or somethin’.” Ron turned and fished out another tag from his pack. He was bluntly ignoring Hermione’s tittering hand that was held high in the air.

It was routine anymore.

“Wrong, Mr. Boot. Miss Bones?”

“Here mate,” Ron passed him the tag and Harry took it with a grateful smile. Pulling off his old, illegible tag, he tied on Ron’s tag, which wasn’t nearly as bad chicken scratch as it usually was.

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape suddenly barked out. “If you feel the need to talk so, why don’t you tell me what it is. And rest assured, if you repeat an answer already said then I will take off ten points.”

Ron cringed, hurriedly racking his mind for what had been said and glancing feverishly through his book. Frowning, Harry discreetly drew back, pulled out his wand, and making sure no one was watching—especially Snape, he muttered the spell that flipped Ron’s page to 126.

Through Ron’s shuffling, only he was the one to notice the spelled change. Resisting the urge to glance around to see who, Ron shrugged and glanced into his potion.

“The, erm, Blue-Jay Blues,” he stated, attempting to make his voice firm.

Snape lifted an eyebrow and stalking forward, he peered down at the boy’s book, his face going impassive. “Correct, Mr. Weasley,” he sounded like he never thought the sentence possible.

Ron discreetly smiled but the man raised an eyebrow. “But no extra points for the outside help,” and before Ron could protest, or Hermione—who assumed the Snape was accusing her—the man stalked off.

“Dismissed,” he waved his hand, and there was a clamber of movement.

“Well that was ruddy unfair,” Ron grumbled as he bottled up his potion and packed up his bag. Yet, before either he or Harry could leave, they had to wait for Hermione, who was cramming her bag darkly and furiously.

Harry looked at Ron with a raised brow but didn’t comment.

By time the girl was done, they were the only ones left in the classroom. Much to Ron’s and Harry’s annoyance. Eagerly they dumped off their potions, homework—in Harry’s case—Ron hadn’t done his but McGonagall had written him a leave for all homework before the event.

Yet, Hermione wasn’t done. “Professor,” she said in a steely voice. The man looked up with his dark eyes, bored.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“I didn’t help Ron,” the girl huffed out. “Therefore I think—”

“Miss Granger,” Snape cut in lazily. “Try not to be too self-absorbed and realize that had you helped Mr. Weasley then I would’ve taken off points, like I usually do. It was someone else.” He glanced up, relishing in Hermione’s flushed face. “Now please leave, class is over.”

“Sorry Professor,” she nodded curtly, threw her pack over her shoulder and walked off. Ron glanced at Harry, dumbfounded, but scrambled after her.

“Oh and Mr. Potter,” the boy paused at the door as Snape called him back. “I expect you to raise your hand from here on out when you know the answer.” Harry stiffened before sighing.

“Yes sir,” and then he ducked out.

Later that night:

“Harry,” Hermione slide up out of nowhere. “I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, you and Ron know this, but lately I’ve been considering becoming an official in the Department of Magical Creatures Bureau.”

“Alright,” Harry breathed, raising an eyebrow at the girl, confused.

“It’s my secret, Harry,” the girl said with an imploring look.

“Nice secret,” he said awkwardly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to know,” Hermione pressed. “That you can tell me things.”

“Such as?”

“Things, Harry, things…” she stared for a moment longer before sighing. “Whenever you want to.” Awkwardly Harry inclined his head.

Turning the bushy-haired girl walked off, in the direction of the Common Room. “Oh and Hermione,” Harry called out. She paused. “Being an official in the Department of Magical Creatures Bureau…it fits you.”

She smiled at him before walking off.

“Uggh!” someone shouted, awakening Harry very rudely from his tense slumber. Rolling over, he promptly crashed out of his bed, landing in a very grainy bed of what felt like sand.

Around him, in a backward swirl of curses and estranged comments, people were shouting, and as Harry cracked open his tired eyes, gazed down into the ground, and found his face inches from rubbing raw into a pile of sand—well he was willing to say those curses and estranged comments weren’t so nutty anymore.

Propping up, a bit sour, looked around at his fellow housemates, seeing them all moving about, shoving into one another, cursing out comments that could’ve been considered pre-meditated murder in muggle court, and dumping sand out of their clothing.

Neville and Dean seemed the most heated up, shouting the most, arguing their foul humor out on each other’s poor souls, and no one seemed to be able to gather their own good mood, or even somewhat acceptable mood, to stifle all their shouting.

Even the Quidditch game for the day wasn’t any good source of calming the aggravated tempers at the moment.

Flushing off his own sand, eyes glinting their own distemper, Harry looked over in time to see Ron throw a rather large, brittle ball of sand at Seamus, who didn’t duck in time. This, needless to say, led to a counter attack that—like all bad cartoons—ended up hitting the wrong target, thus dragging everyone into the fray.

The thing with sand was, unlike snow, it was brittle, painful, and a sand-ball was nothing was appeasing to get hit with as a snowball. Therefore, again as it was needless to say, the sand-ball fight was not pleasant and set everyone else into an even more foul temper.

It wasn’t until Harry, screaming as loudly as he could that he was going to go invite Professor Snape up for tea that the fight ceased.

“That’s rather cruel to say,” Seamus grumbled tightly but nonetheless acknowledged that they needed to calm down.

“Yes, well, it’s a rather cruel time,” Harry said lopsidedly. “Now, I’ve been at Hogwarts several years now, and I’ve grown to accept some very bizarre things…” everyone muttered in agreement. “However, two inches of sand is not one of them.”

“You think it’s only us then?” Neville asked, calming down some more. “Or the whole school ‘cause I’ve read Hogwarts: A History and this has only happened once before, like two hundred years ago or somethin’, and it was the whole school.”

“This has happened before?” Dean asked, shocked.

“You read Hogwarts: A History?” Ron questioned, dumbfounded.

“Well what are we hanging about here for then?” Seamus asked. “Let’s go see if it’s only us, or not.” With that, the sixth year Gryffindors, stinging from their sand-ball fight, but greatly calmer now, trooped through the sand, which was soft enough to eat their ankles, and out the door.

The sand spilt out through the door and onto the stairs that seemed trekked with sand too. A very good, yet bad sign.

Once down in the Common Room, they found what they feared—for had it only been in their dorm, it would’ve been a funny story—yet now that it was in the whole castle, nearly a half a foot in the Common Room, it wasn’t funny.

Several harassed looking students glanced up at them before bustling about, kicking up the sand, grumbling to each other, and asking what they should do. Hermione looked up from an armchair by the fire, next to Lavender and Parvati. In her lap she had Hogwarts: A History opened.

“Go figure,” Ron mumbled while Neville and the others shot over.

“Figure anything out then?” Dean asked the bushy-haired girl.

“Well, no,” she frowned. “It’s only happened once in all of Hogwarts history, and then it had been a very big, very large joke played by all of the seventh years.”

“And I can fess up,” Katie Bell chimed in from her seat. “It wasn’t us this time. Wonder if we’re still having Quidditch though…” she trailed off, lost in her own thoughts. For one distracting moment, Harry forgot the sand and remembered that due to his hand he couldn’t play Quidditch any more.

He could grasp the broom with it, not tightly enough, nor could he grasp the snitch with it.

Yet…

“Then was it a repeat joke?” Ron demanded. “’Cause it wasn’t very funny.”

“Isn’t,” Parvati corrected, gesturing around. “Still going on isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Seamus interjected, breaking up a fight before it began. “We should go down to the Great Hall. The Professors should definitely have something to say on the matter.”

Everyone nodded and grumbled, standing up awkwardly on the sand mind, and trailed out of the Common Room. Several of the students were so determined to the know that they didn’t pay any heed to the fact that they were wearing their pajamas still.

As they walked, like a giant wave of Gryffindors, they found the sand getting higher and higher, until they reached the Entrance Hall, which was packed full of students, and found it to be well into the range of being a foot high. In the Great Hall, which was swarmed over by demanding, jittering students, they found the sand to be up to the seat of the benches.

Anyone caring to sit down on the benches might as well have been sitting on the ground for all the good it did them.

The whole place with timing with very harassed looking students, all demanding answers of one another before discovering that they couldn’t very well get an answer out of their fellow student, and turned expectantly to the conspicuously empty Head Table.

“Well,” Harry said cheerily to Ginny. “This is a fun morning.”

“Fun?” the girl demanded, incredulous. “Fun, Mr. Potter? I hardly call this a fun morning—actually it’s anything but a fun morning!” She glared at him pointedly, but finding that he wasn’t going to drop his laughing smile she turned away.

Fun indeed it was, for Harry. For not only was Voldemort forgotten about, no one was staring at him, and it he was getting a well deserved distraction from it all.

What he didn’t know was there was one other who thought the exact same thing.

Finally the doors to the Entrance Hall banged open and Dumbledore, along with the rest of the Teaching Staff walked in. The whole hall fell silent at their arrival.

“Now,” Dumbledore began instantly. “I imagine you’re all wondering what’s going on, and I assure you, we are too.” Yeah, that was re-assuring. Ginny snorted. “However, we’re as lost to these proceedings as you are.”

A grumble went up as students whispered to their neighbors. “Many of you might remember this having happened in Hogwarts: A History, but seeing how no year has owned up to the trick—and none will I believe for it wasn’t a year’s doing—we are at a lost. If anyone does know, we’d be greatly appeased if you would inform us, seeing how we can’t charm the sand away and it’s ruining several things—mainly, clothing and sweets.”

Groans erupted all over the Great Hall, from all the students that hadn’t even considered the danger that the brittle sand was putting their candy in. Dumbledore’s eyes, Harry noted, never lost their twinkle.

“Bloody hell, my chocolate frogs,” Ron groaned beside him.

“Now, we can’t let this sand deter us though, and we insist that the day proceed as it usually would,” he clapped his hands and instantly food appeared on the tables, some of which students were standing on to get a better view. “I believe we have a Quidditch game today, so I implore you all to eat and have fun. This sand crisis shall be resolved soon, hopefully.”

Rumbling to each other, the students set in a mindless walk to their tables, questioning and kicking the sand as they walked. Many kicked sand too hard and it landed into the food, where people proceeded to shout at them in annoyance.

“I wonder who would do such a thing.” Neville asked, grabbing a handful of sand with a look that clearly said it was ‘evil.’

“It could be worse,” Hermione said in a bright, almost cheery voice. “It could be mud.”

CRACK!

Suddenly every ounce of sand in the whole Great Hall changed, and there was a ruckus of screams and yells as every single student, save the few still standing, were suddenly tilted backwards from the lack of sandy support in their flat sitting positions, sinking thoughtfully into the mud.

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, glaring at her accusing from the foot of mud that they happened to be sitting in. All over students were shouting, jumping up, and/or throwing mud angrily at the person next to them.

“Everyone!” Dumbledore hollered. “Outside!” Not many failed to notice that beside the Professors had a table seated higher then the House Tables and were in chairs, not any of them were covered in nearly as much mud as the students, wading to get out, were.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Ron snapped again at Hermione, who glared.

“I didn’t do a thing!” she snarled.

“You said mud and it turns into mud,” the man pointed out.

“Oh honestly, hardly my fault,” Hermione huffed out, wading forward a bit.

“Yeah, Ron,” Lavender chimed in agreement. “It’s got to be a time spell or something, and the floor just changes periodically. Hermione just had the misfortune to say mud at the time it changed.”

“That was strangely smart,” Dean muttered into Harry’s ear, causing him to snort.

“Riiight,” Ron drawled but made no further comment.

“Why mud?” a fifth year Hufflepuff shouted. “Jesus, my stuff is all ruined! Why not something nicer! Honestly!”

“Yeah, like honey! At least that smells better!”

CRACK!

A new shout of screams went up as the students set to a horrified, jumbling dance that could’ve been mistaken for insanity as a sticky, gooey, brownish-yellow stuff filled the hall in replacement of the mud and sand.

“Honey!” someone screamed, outraged. “All my shit is ruined now for sure!”

More and more people screamed while the sixth year Gryffindors shared a funny look.

“Why couldn’t it be water?” Seamus tempted the air.

CRACK!

It was water. Everyone screamed again, mainly flipping backwards, dunking themselves in water. Professor called for peace, but no one was listening.

“Why couldn’t it be Chocolate Frogs!” Ron shouted.

CRACK!

Suddenly the hall was filled with…well chocolate frogs. But not the sort Ron was wishing for. Instead it was filled with frogs…that were coated in frogs. Seeing how everyone had been standing nearly a foot and a half into all the other stuff, there was a foot and a half of chocolate coated, croaking frogs.

The screams echoed for miles.

“Why couldn’t it be cotton!” Hermione shouted, giving Ron a very pointed look. Yet, nothing worked for her. Staring around bemused, Neville shouted Hermione’s sentence again…

CRACK!

White fluffy cotton suddenly piled up, much to the relief of people’s ears, and everyone slumped down a bit eased.

“Come on,” Hermione urged. “We have to talk to Dumbledore.”

Yet Dumbledore was on the other side the Hall, fighting with the other Professors to reach the students, and their journey other there was very eventful.

While many of the other students did put two and two together about saying something that it could be changed it, several others had and were using it to their advantage. Yet, what one person liked, someone else undoubtedly hated, and it was changed.

CRACK!

Kool-Aid.

CRACK!

Orange Jell-O.

CRACK!

Marshmallow—needless to say, this one held up the traveling sixth years quite badly.

CRACK!

Grass clippings.

“Honestly,” Hermione grunted.

CRACK!

Tennis Balls.

CRACK!

Mud, again.

CRACK!

Milk! This erupted in disgusted screams.

CRACK!

Oatmeal.

CRACK!

Scrambled eggs.

They were nearly there. Seeing the group of students heading beeline for them, the bemused Professors that were too far away to coherently hear the shouts of the students’ commands, paused to look at them.

Several seeing hat Hermione Granger was among the group looked relieved, while many took Harry Potter being in the group as a bad sign—mainly Snape.

CRACK!

Fire-whiskey.

Cheers erupted with this and several students dived into the alcohol, lapping it up with cupped hands, while many frowned down disapprovingly. How many students had trekked through that, hmmm?

Next to the mud and the sand, it was by far the longest substance they had yet to have. Taking quick advantage of having a liquid substance, they sixth year students took off running into the Fire-whiskey, only having to drag Seamus and Ron by the scruff of their robes.

Then…

CRACK!

Dog food.

Harry grimaced at the food, but pressed on until they were nearly five feet from Professor Snape—the Professor who had the misfortune to be the closest to them.

“Professor,” Hermione gasped. “We know how everything is changing.”

“So it’s you eight then?” Snape demanded, eyeing them all darkly. His best set of black robes was now ruined because of this little trick.

“No,” Seamus shook his head wildly. “We just figured it out on accident…”

CRACK!

Suddenly they were up to their knees in butter.

“Well?” McGonagall snapped impatiently, having tittered over during the dog food. “What’s going on?”

“Whatever someone requests, it turns into. Only once though,” Hermione informed breathlessly.

“So if I said, why not oil, it wo…”

CRACK!

Oil.

Screams shout up again and someone shouted something else.

CRACK!

Ice cream.

“Dear me,” Dumbledore said, walking over with a twinkle in his eye. “We must stop this then, before someone requests something outrageous.”

He cast a look over his students, all swarming in a pack to get out the doors of the Great Hall, but whatever food substance that happened to be up was slowing them down tremendously.

“Well, I’ve never heard of a spell like this,” Flitwick chimed in, the ice cream nearly up to his chest. Poor little guy. “Nor have I seen magic like this.”

Harry frowned. “You know,” he wondered aloud. “That ‘crack’ noise sounds awfully familiar.” He rubbed his jaw line.

“To stop the spell,” Madam Hooch declared. “We’ll have to find the original caster.”

Instantly the Professor took up a serious conversation that somehow included the six year students from Gryffindor, who were all eager to add their own opinion.

CRACK!

Cream cheese.

Harry wrinkled up his nose, but nonetheless grabbed Ron’s elbow.

“Oi,” the boy yelped.

“Come on,” Harry hissed, casting an eye out to find Hermione deep within a conversation with Professor Vector on the size of the spell and what it was capable of producing. So far it was only capable of producing food with the exception of chocolate frogs, tennis balls, mud, and sand.

Everything else had been food.

“Where are we going?” Ron demanded as they waded through the cream cheese. Harry, finding Hermione at a lose to help them, settled on only Ron, which was fine.

“I think I know,” Harry gasped breathlessly.

“Then why don’t we tell the Professors?” Ron asked, gesturing over his shoulder to the consulting Professors.

Sighing, realizing Ron was right, the boy looked over but found all the Professors too engaged in a conversation to spare him a glance. Except Snape.

Grinding his teeth, inwardly cringing against the idea, Harry waded back over. “Professor,” he said, dragging the man’s unwanted attention to him. “Think I might’ve figured it out,” the man raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Figured we should go check into it...”

“We?” Snape echoed. “Pray tell, where did this ‘we’ come from?”

“I meant,” Harry ground out. “We as in Ron and I…I was merely informing of you where we were going in case someone wondered.”

Snape stared down at him. “Not many would wonder Potter, you’re not alone in this crisis. I’m sure several are stranded in corridors or bathrooms.” Harry cringed. Now that was a thought.

“Fine,” Harry spat out and turning, he waded back to Ron. “They don’t care, come on, let’s go.”

“Where to?” Ron asked, nodding.

“The Kitchens.”

CRACK!

Mash potatoes.

“Bloody hell, who says this shit?” Ron demanded as they exited through a secret Entrance that led to a level above the kitchens.

“I don’t know,” Harry grumbled as he picked at his pants. “Betcha everything’s ruined that had the misfortune not to be protected by our trunks.” Ron groaned.

“Why the Kitchens anyway?” Ron demanded as they got farther down the passageway.

CRACK!

Lettuce.

It was a crisp and cracking beneath their feet. “And whose bright idea is it to have the floor filled with someone’s current desire? And I want to know who started with sand!”

“Mate,” Harry laughed. “Calm down. Shesh, it’s not that big of a deal. Whoever it was...well I dunno, but still.

CRACK!

Condensed milk.

“Shite,” both boys groaned just as someone cleared their throat behind them. Startled, they turned to find Snape standing there.

“Headmaster sent me after you, just in case you indeed did find the culprit.” He looked like he rather be anywhere else.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “Going to the Kitchens.” Then without further ado, he and Ron turned to keep on wading through the condensed milk.

“You know,” Ron grunted as he almost slipped on a stair.

CRACK!

Ketchup.

All three males couldn’t hold back a groan. Yet they pressed on, as all good adventurers do—mind, one really wasn’t welcome there or wanted to be there.

“Know what Ron?” Harry questioned as he pushed open the passageway door onto the level before the kitchen.

Ron blinked at him, slightly confused. “Don’t remember.” Snape snorted.

CRACK!

Mayonnaise.

“Think someone wants a hamburger?” Harry asked, incredulously. Ron snorted as he picked up his leg and looked at his shoe.

“And they were brand new,” he whined. “I’m gonna kill whoever it was…”

“Threats, Mr. Weasley?” Snape asked and the boy flushed. “That’s considered bad manners.”

Harry snorted. “Look whose talking,” he muttered, at the perfect moment no less too for suddenly there was another change.

CRACK!

Tomato sauce.

They turned down the stairway that led to the kitchen level and hurriedly walked it.

“Oh, I remember now,” Ron said, as if struck by an epiphany.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, loudly to cover Snape’s snort.

“The kitchen, mate, its only full of House Elves.” Ron looked pointed at Harry as they saddled up before the picture of the bowl of fruit.

“Yep,” Harry said, showing white teeth in a grin. “I know.” Ron blinked at him as his friend tickled the pear. “Think about it, Ron,” he said almost tiredly. “What’s that ‘crack’ sound like?”

CRACK!

Butterbeer.

The unlikely trio waded into the chaotic kitchen, where the house-elves were running around, jumping on tables to avoid drowning or suffocating to death in whatever substance that was there.

“Like a house elf’s magic,” Snape breathed for Ron and Harry nodded.

“Yep,” he looked around. “And I only know one house elf who would do such a thing…accidentally, mind.”

“Dobby,” Ron said, struck with realization.

“Dobby,” Harry looked around, searching out his little elf friend.

“Can we helps sirs?” a squeaky, brown house elf asked loudly from a top a table that she dared not venture down from.

“Yeah, can you fetch Dobby please!” The little elf squeaked, nodded, and scampered away.

“But why?” Ron asked, dumbfounded.

“Not a clue,” Harry shook his head slightly. “But it’s Dobby, remember he tried to save my life by killing me?”

“Yeah,” Ron’s face broke into a laughing smile. “That was grand. But he can be quite helpful…” he waded forward.

“At times, yeah,” they were making for the tables. “Especially with the second task, would’ve been dead without it.” Ron snorted.

CRACK!

Vegetable soup.

“Well honestly!” Ron cried out.

“Harry Potter sirs!” a squeaky, blur of a creature suddenly squealed, shooting out of nowhere and tackling Harry backwards into the soup. Coughing and sputtering, Harry set up, shaking his head like a dog and groaning.

Damn, he had remained so clean up till then.

Holding Dobby by the armpits so that the little creature didn’t drown, he stared at the laughable house elf. He had socks on his ears, tea cozies on his head, and his eyes were as wide as saucers and his bottom lip was quivering.

“Is Dobby in trouble Harry Potter sirs?” he quivered. “Dobby know he did bad, but Dobby hadn’t meant to be so strong.”

Sighing, Harry shook his head. “You’re not in trouble—just tell us what you did?”

“You are talking about the floor right?” Ron asked, just for good measure. Instantly Dobby wailed and fought hard against Harry’s hands to escape and punish himself. Harry held on tighter, not letting go.

“No, Dobby, stop!” Harry panted. “You’re not in trouble, no need to hurt yourself. STOP!” Instantly the little house elf ceased struggling.

CRACK!

Vanilla frosting.

“Harry Potter is too goods to me,” Dobby cried and the boy rolled his eyes.

“Dobby, just tell me what happened, please,” the house elf cried a bit more but nodded all the same.

“Dobby just wanted to makes peoples happy—give them one request with no ties…” Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron. As far as he could tell, everything being requested would be gotten in the Kitchen any time. “It was only supposed to be little, in their hands, but Dobby’s magics is too big. It messes ups and makes floors…this.”

“Why, Dobby?” Ron asked and the little house elf shrugged.

“I was tireds I guess,” Dobby informed and Ron closed his eyes briefly.

“I meant, why give everyone something they wish for?”

“Because Harry Potters sirs is unhappy, I’ve seens it,” Dobby wailed. “I thoughts if I gives him somethings he wants then he be happys. Then I thoughts the whole school would be happys to have the same things.”

Awkward now, Harry shifted in the frosting. “I’m fine Dobby, you didn’t have to…” the house elf was wailing. “But it was a good idea, and I’m greatly, erm, honored…” he looked helplessly at Ron, who shrugged.

Dobby sniffled a bit. “Honored?” he squeaked and Harry nodded vigorously.

CRACK!

Sour cream.

“Harry Potters sirs is honored!” Dobby smiled broadly. “I will dos whatever Harry Potters sirs wants!”

“Uh, can you cancel the spell? It’s kind of interfering,” Harry suggested and Dobby frowned.

“I haves tried, but it no works...” Ron and Harry look at each other desperately.

“Maybe we should get Professor Flitwick…” Ron trailed off helplessly.

“Or,” Snape suddenly interrupted. “Dobby, tell me, must everyone request something or most something just request the right thing?”

“I was ables to make it be the rights thing requested but that is all, sirs,” Dobby bowed his head slightly to Snape, still sitting in Harry’s hands.

“Then,” Snape sighed tiredly. “Why couldn’t it be nothing….”

CRACK!

Harry was sitting on the floor, covered in every food imaginable, and Ron had tittered haphazardly. Dobby bowed his head, ashamed, while all the other house elves squealed and jumped up to their work hurriedly.

Sitting down the small house elf, Harry stood up and placed his hand on his head. “Thanks for thinking of me Dobby, really,” he smiled at the hopeless house elf. “But next time you want to, erm, help me out…just give me a sock, ‘kay?”

“OK!” Dobby piped up. “Thanks Harry Potters sirs, but I must gets going sirs, to helps with the cleaning.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry stepped back and instantly Dobby disappeared, vanishing with the all too familiar crack.

Ron and Harry grinned goofily at each other, but their amusement was short-lived. Snape cleared his throat.

Turning to face him slowly, they found the man staring down his crooked nose at him. “We need to report this to Dumbledore,” he declared, relieving them greatly. “Come.” They had been afraid they were in trouble for who knows what.

“Well,” Ron breathed as he climbed out of the Kitchen. “That was an interesting morning.”

“And you’ve still got a Quidditch match,” Harry pointed out, smirking. Ron groaned and instantly paled, desperately wishing they hadn’t figured it out so quickly. “You’ll do fine,” Harry clapped his back.

Once they reached the noisy Great Hall again, Ron took the lead, determined to talk to Katie Bell, the Quidditch Captain, about something. Yet, before Harry could enter, Snape rounded on him. Grasping his shirt, the man crouched before the boy.

“I’m serious Potter,” he hissed. “Watch what you say about me, understood? I don’t want to have this conversation with you again.” Then he straightened back up. “Oh and a detention for saying I have bad manners.”

That cleared some things up.

Grunting, Harry nodded curtly and pushed passed the man into the Great Hall. Everyone looked a mess—a variety of things and all in bad moods because of it.

Yet, somehow, Harry wasn’t. It had all be so distracting and funny that he…well he almost wished he hadn’t figured it out so quickly either.

Hermione pursed her lips over her breakfast, staring around the buzzing Great Hall with an air of annoyance. In her hand she gripped the Daily Prophet, while in the other she gripped her Potions essay. Harry couldn’t tell which was annoying her.

The students, the paper, or the essay. Possibly all three? Maybe none? Whichever it was, it was resulting in Colin Creevy being glared at by a very annoyed looking Hermione Granger. Wisely the little fifth year moved away, tugging his brother’s collar of the neck.

“’Mione,” Harry groaned as the said ‘Prefect’ stared yet another second year. “What the hell is the matter? Or do you just feel like being an imitation of Snape today? ‘Cause I have enough of him coming up in tonight’s detention.”

“No,” the girl growled before looking at him and instantly letting her face soften up. “It’s just,” she flipped the Prophet over. Ah, so it was the paper. “You see, Harry? V-Vo-Voldemort’s dead,” she sighed somewhat. “But it’s not ending.”

The scarred boy looked over the front cover, seeing the headlines to read: SERIAL KILLER MURDERS 15! Then, underneath, it went into a detailed description of the serial killer being a known follower of Voldemort and how it was believed it was continuing with ‘his old master’s game’ despite his master’s death.

“Dumbledore didn’t think it would, not this time at least,” Harry rubbed his face, pushing his glasses up and down. “Said there was a good chance that, that many of the Death Eaters that escaped might continue this time. Too rallied up they were or somethin’ and they won’t stop this time. Not until something stops them.”

“At least it’s not you this time, right?” Hermione peered closely at him. He gave her a weak smile and nodded.

“Yeah, not me,” he hoped it wasn’t him that was. Not this time. He didn’t want to get involved this time. Rubbing his hands on his robes, something that was becoming almost habitual, he picked up his fork again.

The school had finally settled down from Dobby’s little ‘Desire Spell’, though amazingly enough only a select few knew it was that particular house elf. Though the whole school did know that it was a house elf. Though the chatter about all the substances they had to wade through, or the fact that all their ruined clothing had been saved from the house elves splendid efforts hadn’t ceased.

And Harry feared it never would.

“When’s your detention with Professor Snape anyway?” Hermione asked, chewing over some eggs thoughtfully.

“Tonight, nine o’clock.” The boy shrugged helplessly. “He’s the only Professor I know that’ll assign them on Sundays.”

“Hmm…” was all the girl responded in saying before eating some more. Rubbing his face again, tired, Harry fought to not look at his hands, wondering if he would never actually escape it, before giving up on eating all together.

Nodding a goodbye to the girl, who was now glaring at the prophet, Harry walked off, mindlessly rubbing his palms against his robes. Dobby had been a nice distraction really, which was his only desire at the moment to make him happy, but without the ability to play Quidditch to distract himself, and his running past time hidden, he was at a lost of what to do.

God forbid he should read something though.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get into it. Not like Hermione. Not like all the charming fifth years, who all had new vocabulary words. Which, Harry was sure, were supplied by none other then Ginny Weasley.

“What’s going on here?” Madam Hooch’s voice suddenly called out, breaking the chaos like the Red Sea. Startled, Harry looked up, jerking himself from his stupor, and stared around the corridor, barely noting the crying girls, some of whom were screaming in soft moans, and the panicking forms of other house students.

“Someone has to get Madame Pomfrey!” a seventh year Slytherin shouted, jerking a Ravenclaw by the robe and more or less throwing him in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

Intrigued, for curiosity killed the cat and Harry had very few of his nine lives left, the boy walked forward, just as Madam Hooch reached the scene and cringed at the same time the woman did.

Laying on the ground, splayed out like a fallen body, was a four year Hufflepuff with slashes across her chest, three giant ones—almost like a cat with massive claws had appeared and had clawed her down. She was breathing, but only mildly, and her eyes weren’t even closed.

They were rolled into the back of her head.

Harry jolted.

Eyes weren’t closed…his world swam, he felt like a detached object, sitting across a dead body. He was staring down at the girl, but it wasn’t the girl anymore, it was Voldemort, his eyes were open.

They were lifeless…they were red…they were murdered…

“Who did this?” Madam Hooch finally gasped, her hand on her chest for her throbbing heart. “Who did this?” she rounded in a wild horror on everyone.

“We don’t know,” piped up a distraught, bawling second year. “We just…we just…we just found her like this,” she broke into renewed sobs.

“Gods,” Hooch breathed before shaking herself out of it.

Harry couldn’t. All he could see were the murdered eyes, all he could feel was the blood dripping from his hands. Horrified, he turned and fled, running before anyone even registered that he had been there, and he stumbled into the nearest bathroom, uncaring if it was boy or girl.

Stumbling into the nearest stall, he smashed it open, fell over the toilet and lost all his breakfast with a painful gasp. His breath wouldn’t come, it constricted in his throat and with each attempt to breath, he lost his meal until there was nothing left, and he was only dry heaving. Closing his eyes briefly, he brought his hands up to steady himself, then slowly he opened them, still feeling queasy.

Red. Dripping, milky red liquid, oozing from his fingertips, streaming down every single one, staining them. Hurriedly, he wiped at the blood stain, smearing it away, but it didn’t move, it didn’t smear, it just remained there, trickling down.

Breath panicking in his chest, Harry crashed backwards, out of the stall, feeling his stomach threatening to dry heave again. Gasping, rubbing his hands with renewed vigor, he stumbled over to the stall and flushed his face under the water.

Slowly, his panic slowed, and he felt himself slump down, his knees touching the cool school floor, and his eyes threatening to water. Dropping his forehead against the rim of the sink, he sucked in his breath.

“Make it go away…” he whispered in despair.

888

“Good of you to show up on time, Potter,” Snape sneered as the boy entered the classroom. “I was afraid certain things had gotten to your head…”

“Haven’t forgotten how to read a clock,” Harry snapped, annoyance tickling him.

The man narrowed his eyes to slits, before he stood up. “I told you, Potter,” he hissed in a seething tone. “You better watch how you speak to me. You and Miss Weasley seemed to have a problem if controlling your tongue around adults.” He stalked over to Harry, until his breath was fanning over his face. “Is this understood Potter?” the man continued, his eye twitching somewhat.

“Yes sir,” Harry grated out, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Good,” the man stepped back. “Your detention is simple enough,” he gestured to the far wall that was always lined with cauldrons. There was a good stack of them before the wall now, all gleaming with grim and crusty with who knew what. “Clean those.”

Taking a slow breath, Harry nodded mutely before walking over to the cauldrons. Taking a sprawled seat on the ground, the boy grabbed the rag, the cleaning fluid that Snape had so ‘nicely’ set out for him, and set to cleaning.

The silence between them was pounding.

One just grading essays, the other just cleaning without really thinking about it. It was like both had just drifted off into their own little havens of their minds, which actually, at the moment in time, might not have been very good havens, without a care to the things around them.

The attack on the Hufflepuff was still unexplained, beyond that of it not being a magical attack, and that was that. She was in a coma, at St. Mungo’s, and whoever the attacker was hadn’t been caught and wouldn’t until she woke up. The school was very near to the brink of panic until Dumbledore assured them that they were quite safe.

Harry really hoped no one else was attacked—if just for the old wizard’s sake of mind.

Finally, getting half way through the cauldrons, he heard Snape shift in his seat and looked up to see the man grabbing a new pile of essays.

That was one job Harry wasn’t going to do. Teaching. Never, ever. He couldn’t stand watching someone grade essays, let alone actually grade them himself.

“Potter, kindly stop watching me and get back to work,” Snape suddenly snapped and jerking out his mindless thoughts the boy tinted a bit as he set to working again. Ruddy luck. “Actually,” Snape said, startling the boy.

Actually? When the hell has the man ever said ‘actually’ after ordering someone back to work? Harry forced himself not to reach out and touch the floor, to see if Hell had frozen over.

“On Dumbledore’s account.” Ah, now that explained a bit more. Like why his eye was twitching. “He wants to know if you feel your mind defenses are up enough.”

“What?” Harry asked, genuinely startled.

Sighing, the man pinched the bridge of his nose. “In simple terms Potter, he wants to know if you’re having nightmares.”

“Oh,” Harry shrugged. “No, not really.” Though a nagging, dry voice in the back of his mind echoed ‘not yet’.

The man nodded and waved him back to work. Effing strange that was. “And what about your—keep working boy!—what about your hands?” Harry tensed. “You can’t pretend that they’re not stained, Potter, I know they are. You’re not still rubbing them raw, are you?”

“Why do you care?” Harry couldn’t help but snap.

Snape snapped his eyes onto Harry, the onyx orbs glinting dangerously. “Because, Potter, as loathe as I am to admit it—I can’t, when I have the knowledge—let a student destroy himself or herself. Despite their house, or status,” he sneered his lip.

Harry clenched his hands darkly around the rim of the cauldron. “Can you get off that!” he snarled. “I did nothing for my status as you so elegantly put it! I don’t want it! I don’t need it! I would love for it to rot in hell! So. GET. OFF. IT!”

Snape stood up darkly. “What did I say about how you talked to me?”

“I’ll talk how I bloody well want when it concerns my character!” Harry retorted heatedly. “I can’t stand it! I can’t stand the way you flaunt it in my face all the time! I HATE IT! Do you not get that! Can you not understand something so simple. YET ALL YOU DO IS HARP ON ME ABOUT IT! I never asked for it, I never wanted it. If it was up to me, I would’ve never had it!”

He was on his feet now, but he wasn’t sure when he gotten up. Snape opened his mouth angrily, to say something, but Harry cut him off. “No! It’s my turn! For five, nearly six years I dealt with it from you! And I can’t—not after all this, I can’t take it anymore. GET OFF OF IT! Leave me the hell alone about it. I don’t want to be famous and if I had to punch Dumbledore in the effing face to get people to hate me, you know what? I’d DO IT!”

Breathing heavily, he clenched his teeth again. “So just leave me the hell alone,” he muttered weakly, falling backwards onto his arse once again, and staring at his hands mutely.

Red. Always red.

Why did he have to do it?

There was a movement, and he looked up to see Snape standing over him, his face so unreadable that it was actually scarier then when he was openly glaring and sneering. Harry didn’t like it. He didn’t want to see the man like that. He liked knowing some of the man’s emotions.

Crouching down, the man grabbed the front of Harry’s robes. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again, understood Mr. Potter?” he snarled and Harry mutely nodded. Instantly the man let go of his robes and stood up.

Reaching into his pockets, Harry fought the instinct to recoil in fear the man was reaching for his wand, Snape pulled out a set of black gloves. “When it gets real bad,” Snape said indifferently. “When you feel you can’t see anything beyond the red, put this one.”

He threw them into Harry’s lap. “They’ll cover it, somewhat. They’ll help, somewhat. Don’t become dependent on them, however.”

“W-why?” Harry breathed, shocked.

“People, namely the Headmaster, frown upon willingly allowing a student to go insane—which stains will do.” The man shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “Though I do suggest, Mr. Potter, that you don’t punch Albus, he might take personal offense.”

With that the man stalked off completely, leaving the classroom which Harry dully noted had gone cold with his icy temper. Rubbing his head, somewhat confused about the man, he stared down at the gloves and sighed somewhat.

“Thank you,” he said the air before tucking them away in his robes and setting to work on the cauldrons.

Harry slipped into the Great Hall softly, his body sleek from the damp shower of the early morning. Glancing about, noting the stifling emptiness of the place, he made a quiet beeline for the Gryffindor table before veering off course.

Instead he settled at the Ravenclaw table, hardly caring. Actually, he found it a bit thrilling. He rarely took up residence for a meal at another House Table, though he knew many that did. The drawbacks, apparently, of having friends, basically, all from the same house.

Reaching forward, he shoveled some eggs and bacon onto his plate from the steaming, fresh food, sitting so far back upon the bench that his legs swung a bit. He felt almost like a little boy, swinging his legs like so, but had a picture been snapped of him, it would’ve been quite apparent that he looked rather strange indeed.

Sitting so far back that his arse was on the very edge, his usually cropped legs swung back and forth, utterly swaying the mere imagine of him being a Hero—an Adult. He was the Savior of the World, he was even a murderer (even if no one acknowledged that part.). Heroes, murderers (unless mentally ill) didn’t sit on benches, swinging their legs, secretly enjoying a simple meal of eggs and bacon.

Alas, no one truly knew the mind of Harry Potter, now did they?

Though as a few minutes drifted by, the thick, rigid silence of the Great Hall was bothersome. So unusual it was, so irksome even, having to sit in complete silence in a Hall usually so filled with chatter, laughter, and people that it crawled, creakingly, into his bones.

Setting his fork down, he straightened out, legs firmly planting themselves upon the ground, and he cupped his forehead, staring at the table tiredly. Lost? Was he lost?

As if in answer to his question (rather disputing it or confirming it) the door to the Great Hall creaked open and someone slinked in. Not too caring to lift his eyes up, he frayed out his hair a bit more, dragging his fingers through it.

“You do realize, Mr. Potter, that your table is Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw?” Snape’s silky voice seeped over him, causing his shoulders to tense. Uggh, he didn’t want to deal with that man.

“Yes sir, I very much recall that,” he looked up scathingly. “I’m merely failing to acknowledge that.”

“You’ll do well to watch your tone, Potter,” the man growled out darkly. “I daresay we’ve had this conversation far too many times for my liking.” He turned away, sharply. “The consequences of having it again will not be pretty.”

With that stated, he stalked off, robes billowing out behind him as he made toward the Head Table.

“Is a simple, ‘Good Morning,’ beyond your witty reach, Professor?” Harry sighed quietly, though a dry voice mockingly told him that it was so. Ever so.

The silence between the two of them in the Great Hall was just as bad as the solitude silence, but luckily, it didn’t last long as Ginny seemed quick to respond to Harry’s silent pleading for company.

She stepped in, took one sweeping glance, walked over and joined Harry at the Ravenclaw table, seemingly empty of questions. “Morning, Harry.”

“Morning,” he smiled at her lopsidedly. Collecting her plate full of food, they fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the meal.

“What do you want to do today?” Harry asked as he slipped through the door leading into the Room of Requirement. All the DA members turned to him, a bit surprised. Usually Harry knew what they were going to do.

“Can we do a joint attack?” Ernie asked curiously. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Sure,” Harry said. A joint attack was when everyone just attacked each other, like a real battle. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna were usually the ones that stayed up the longest, so they had stopped participating in them and just commenting on the others style.

All the members got into stance. “Go,” Harry called out and instantly they started to attack. Harry watched as Cho spun around and attacked Ernie who just barely blocked it. Justin took Ernie’s lack of defensive to shoot another spell at him, causing the boy to fall over. But before Harry could comment, Neville did.

The rest of the DA meeting went as usual. After the joint attack, Hermione taught them a new spell, which took several of them only two tries to learn. When Hermione and Harry taught they always found that the others seemed to learn quicker. Maybe it was the way they taught.

Harry had the feeling that because he had a hard time of adapting the concept himself, it was easier for him to teach it on a level they understood. Hermione was just a born teacher.

Finally, the meeting was over and only the six of them were left in the Room of Requirement.

“Harry,” Neville called out as the others began to pick around the room. Hermione was already pouring over the Defense book for Sixth years. “Thanks for sending me down there, to the Hospital Wing.”

“I didn’t do anything. It was Hermione’s idea and I just pushed along with it.” Harry commented as he picked up a pillow and threw against to the wall with the others. “So, what happened? She tackle you?”

Neville grinned. “Nah, she offered me a position as a helper. She’ll show me the basics, all I do is go down on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday after dinner.”

“That’s great,” Hermione said from her side of the room. Obviously she had been listening in. Neville turned and smiled at her, then walked over seeing Hermione wanted to talk about it. In her lap was a book Harry had gotten for her from the library. ‘Societies of Magical Creatures,’ she hadn’t taken her nose out of it in a while.

“I’ve got Prefect duty,” Ron announced before he left. He looked disappointed and a bit bored. “See you later,” he declared before leaving.

“I’m going to go work on my History of Magic essay,” Luna declared herself before leaving. Ginny and Harry just shrugged at each other and went back to working on arranging the room. It wasn’t that necessary, seeing as the room was usually orderly when they came, no matter the night before, but for some reason they just liked doing it.

“Harry, can we talk,” Ginny whispered and Harry nodded.

“I’ve got Prefect duty, see you.” Hermione called out and Neville looked around, a bit bored.

“Hey, Neville, have you finished your Potions?” Neville’s eyes suddenly went large and he dashed from the room. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“It’s just,” Ginny paused, trying to form her words. Harry respected her silence and went on cleaning up. “I need to talk to someone...about...about what happened.” Harry tensed, she didn’t mean him did she? He wasn’t going to be much help. “Don’t you ever feel like that?”

“That I just need to talk to someone about it all? Yeah, all the time. Especially...well especially at certain times.” Harry breathed, pausing as he put up a book. For a few seconds Ginny and Harry just stood there, in a thick silence.

“But its no use,” Ginny finally began again. “Talking to Hermione, Luna, Ron, Neville, or you I guess because we’re all having the same problems. I just want to talk to an adult...” she trailed off and Harry caught her drift. He wanted to talk to an adult, someone like Sirius, someone who would understand. “Mum’s no help, she’ll just be motherly, and well Bill, Charlie, and Dad...they’ll just be awkward.”

“McGonagall’s no help, she’ll just try and be motherly and Dumbledore...well he’s a hard man to talk too.” Harry continued. He turned around and saw that Ginny was slumped against a wall.

“I just need to talk to someone,” she muttered. “I keep having these nightmares, and they’re getting worse. I need someone...I dunno...who’ll understand.” Harry stared at her, and understood. All six of them were wrapped up in this misunderstanding of what had happened and what was going to happen. They all felt it, they all felt lost.

“Someone like Sirius,” Harry muttered, falling backwards against the wall. Ginny looked up.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” She mumbled.

“No, it’s okay, really. It’s just, I know, in a way he’d understand...” Harry trailed off, staring blankly at the wall. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

“No, Harry, Sirius would understand.” Ginny said hurriedly but Harry shook his head.

“Not in the right way,” Harry muttered. “There’s only one person...one person I can think who’d understand.” Harry whispered, his head spinning.

“Who?” Ginny whispered.

“Snape,” Harry replied but Ginny didn’t respond like Harry thought she would. She seemed chew on the idea, and then realized that it was true. He had been the only adult there, he’d be the only one to understand how they felt. Inwardly, Harry groaned. Great, they would never get any help.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Ginny suddenly declared and Harry gaped. “I need to Harry. I know how he hates Gryffindors, hates Weasleys more like, but he’s still a professor, I need to talk...he might listen.” Ginny trailed off, but her Gryffindor determination kicked in again and she walked out of the Room of Requirement without a glance backwards.

Harry was tempted to chase after her, join her or drag her back with him saying it was madness to comfort Snape for help. The man probably didn’t help his students from his own house.

But Harry didn’t. This was Ginny’s ordeal, he’d let her deal with. Sighing, Harry stood up and walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room and sat down next to Neville. He pulled out his Potions and started to work on it.

He was getting the gist of Potions, ever since he read that book and paid more attention. He understood the ingredients, but the problem was, he couldn’t make the potions. Even when he did understand the ingredients, it was like the potion didn’t want to work for him.

Beside him Neville, leaned forward and pressed his forehead into the book. Harry wished he could help, but he was having his own problems.

Slowly, the common room thinned out but Ginny hadn’t returned. Harry was a bit worried that Snape might’ve just given her detention for disturbing his time, but on an after thought Harry realized that not even Snape was that mean.

“I’m going to bed,” Neville muttered in distaste, slapping his finished essay into his pack. It was a bit short, Harry noted.

“G’night,” Harry yawned, before turning back to his own essay. After a while, he found he couldn’t keep his own eyes open and retreated to bed. He hit the bed with a thump. And fell asleep seconds later.

Someone was screaming.

Harry set up with a jolt, looking around for the source of screaming. Ron was doing the same and Dean and Seamus were already up. Harry scrambled for his glasses and looked to where the others were looking.

Neville.

He was caught up in his sheet, twisting to and fro, sweating like mad and letting out a low scream of terror.

“Wake ‘m up!” Ron shouted, diving from his bed. Harry dived after him and together the boys tried to wake him up. All that happened was he stopped screaming and began to whimper and thrash about. “Get someone!”

Harry nodded and ran from the dormitory. The common room was empty and the clock on the far side of the room showed that it was almost midnight. He dived through the portrait hole, the Fat Lady mumbling a rude word after him. The problem was, he didn’t know where McGonagall was.

Spinning around a corner, he spotted a ghost, the Grey Lady.

“Excuse me!” Harry shouted after her and the Grey Lady turned to face him wonderingly.

“Aren’t you wandering the castle a little late at night Potter?” A voice suddenly demanded. “And not with your invisibility cloak. Tutt-tutt.” Snape was standing behind him, his face a bit disapprovingly and a bit gleeful at having finally caught Harry.

“No, sir, it’s Neville!” Harry gasped but he didn’t explain any further. Snape would just have to do. Leaping forward, Harry grabbed Snape and pulled him back to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Well I see you’ve gone and got yourself caught,” the Fat Lady said disapprovingly.

“Right, right,” Harry muttered. “Chippernuts!” Huffing a bit, the Fat Lady swung open and Harry, no longer dragging Snape, scrambled in. Without bothering to check to see if Snape was still following, Harry took off for his dormitory.

“Harry, did you McGonagall?” Ron asked as soon as Harry entered.

“No, I couldn’t find her. I got Snape instead.” Right then Snape entered the dormitory. Without so much as a glance at the other boys, Snape swept over to Neville’s bed, who was still whimpering and muttering.

“Mr. Longbottom!” Snape ordered. “You must drink this! Open up!” But Neville didn’t respond. With an impassive face, Snape more or less pried open Neville’s mouth and dripped a black liquid into it. After a pause, Neville suddenly sat up with a yelp.

He looked around, at his roommates and then looked at Snape, who had stepped back from the bed. “W-what h-happened?” Neville whispered, glancing again and stopping on Harry, who just shrugged.

“Come with me, Mr. Longbottom,” Snape demanded.

“N-now, sir?” Neville stuttered and Snape nodded.

“The sooner, the better, come.” Snape ordered and rather shakily Neville followed him. Snape glanced around, meeting each boy with his eyes, then looked at Harry. Harry knew what he was going, or at least had a fair idea. When their eyes met, Snape narrowed them slightly and Harry looked away.

Once Neville was gone, Ron and the others turned onto Harry.

“You had to bring him!” Ron hissed darkly and Harry shrugged.

“Neville needed help, and he was the first teacher I met.” Harry yawned and started to climb back in bed. Dean and Seamus nodded a bit uncertainly as they too climbed back in bed. Harry stood back up and walked over to Ron.

“He’ll help Neville,” Harry breathed and Ron seemed to instantly understand. His mouth made an ‘oh’ and he looked around at Neville’s bed.

“But why him?” Ron whispered.

“Really,” Harry muttered and together they stared at their empty friend’s bed. “But maybe...maybe it’s for the best—that’s it him.”

The next morning they woke up to find Neville sound asleep in bed. Harry looked around and Dean shrugged. “’eard ‘m come in ‘round two in the morning.” Dean yawned as they all began to get ready. Once they were down, Neville was still asleep.

“Should we wake ‘m up?” Seamus asked and Harry shrugged.

“Just let him sleep,” he said and they walked out of the dormitory, not before Ron set Neville’s clock to wake him up before the first lesson.

Hermione and Ginny were waiting for them in the common room. As Dean and Seamus pulled ahead with the others, telling the same story, Harry and Ron hung back. Soon it was only Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Harry left in the common room.

“Where’s Neville?” Hermione asked. Glancing at each other, Harry and Ron quickly explained their story. They started walking sometime in the middle of the story, and by time they finished they were back in the Great Hall.

“How’d he just ‘ave that potion on him?” Ron asked as he gathered toast.

“I bet all professors carry it. In case something like this happens, they need a potion to wake them up.” Hermione stated matter-of-factly. Harry leaned over to Ginny and she looked at him closely.

“He wasn’t there,” she whispered. “I waited for him, even. But he never came. So I just went to the library. Do you think he help Neville?” Harry shrugged.

“Ron didn’t you set the alarm?” Hermione asked and Ron nodded. “He should be here by now.” Classes were going to start soon, breakfast was thinning out and Neville wasn’t there yet.

“I’ll go see,” Harry jumped up and took off running.

“Don’t be late,” Hermione called after him.

Back in the Gryffindor Tower, Neville was still sleeping soundly. “Neville,” Harry whispered shaking the snoring boy some. He moaned, rolled over and looked at him blurrily. “You need to wake up,” Harry insisted. “Class begins in a few minutes.”

Instantly Neville sat bolt up, his eyes wide. “Thanks, Harry.” He breathed, clambering around to get dressed. Harry stood back and waited. “Go on, Harry, it’s okay. I have herbs, Professor Sprout will forgive me for being late.”

“You okay?” Harry asked and Neville nodded.

“See you in potions,” Neville called out after Harry as the boy scrambled back down the stairs. Harry ran through the corridors, already late, and stumbled head first into Defense against the Dark Arts. He had that class twice a week, one time with Neville and Hufflepuffs, the other time by himself with Ravenclaws.

“Sorry, Professor, really. I was...” he trailed off as he realized that it was Snape who was glaring at him from the desk, rather then Gary.

“Now that Potter’s graced us with his appearance, we can began. Ten points from the Gryffindor, for your tardiness, by the way, Potter.” Snape snapped, turning back to the class. “Now, I all know you covered boggarts in your third year, but this is good practice, since one had unwittingly stashed itself in a cabinet.” He gestured around, and a cabinet, as if on cue, rattled.

“Now, you’ll fight it in turns, and since you’re sixth years, I expect you to know how.” With that he gestured for all the students to get up. Harry found himself stuck near the end of the line. “Now,” Snape’s wand unlocked the cabinet.

The whole thing was pretty boring for Harry, who couldn’t help but feel this was trivial considering they did this in their third year, but it was a good waste of time. He knew they were going to start anything new today, so maybe that was why Snape felt the need to entrain them, rather then review spells that they liked to shoot to the left.

Finally, it was Harry’s turn. He stepped forward, not even realizing it, and watched as the boggart, a pink mummy, turned on him. With a crack the boggart transformed. Harry expected it to be a dementor but found to his surprise that there was nothing there.

Everyone took one involuntary step backward, except Snape who narrowed his eyes. To everyone in the room, the boggart had just disappeared. But Harry suddenly felt it.

It felt like an invisible fog, pulling him away from the others, into loneliness. He shuddered, the feeling of being all alone was horrifying. The others began to mutter, there was nothing there, but Harry looked panicked.

“Say it Potter!” Snape suddenly spat.

“R-riddikulus,” Harry stammered, not sure what the boggart would turn into. He hadn’t pictured anything, but suddenly with a crack Snape dressed in Neville’s grandmother’s clothing appeared. The boggart Snape glared at Harry as everyone burst out laughing.

With another crack the boggart burst. Harry stared at the place the boggart had once been without really seeing it. When had he started to fear being lonely? It didn’t make sense.

“Take a seat,” Snape snapped harshly, instantly silencing any chatter between the Ravenclaws. Harry slumped into the seat at the very back of the class and watched as Snape, obviously peeved now, began to lecture on some sort of spell. Harry wasn’t listening.

When the bell rang, Harry was up and out of the classroom before anyone could blink. Yet, as he walked through the halls, he could already hear the telling of the boggart story spreading through.

“Bloody hell, that was fast.” Harry muttered as he turned a corner and ran into Ron and Hermione.

“You turned your boggart in Snape in Neville’s grandmother’s clothing!” Ron instantly laughed and Harry shrugged.

“I didn’t know it would happen...it was weird. The boggart just seem to disappear, but I could feel it.” He didn’t tell them what he felt, knowing it would hurt their feelings. “Then, I said the incantation and it turned in Neville’s.”

Shrugging, Harry walked to Care of Magical Creatures with his friends. Hermione was trying to make sense of it and Ron was just laughing.

“Wasn’t Snape the teacher?” he finally gasped. “Bet he was angry, finally seeing what we had seen all those years ago.”

“Yes, and Potions will be grand.” Harry said sarcastically. Ron moaned, realizing this, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

Potions wasn’t fun.

Harry couldn’t make the potion, as usual. He kept getting confused, even though he knew why he had to use the ingredients, but he kept messing it up.

Professor Snape walked by, squinting darkly at Harry’s potion, and then looked at Harry’s book. Snape had done the same thing he had done last time, ordered them to figure out the potion for themselves.

Harry, staring at the ingredients for a while, had figured out the potion. Seeing as eye of newt and crushed bat wings were only mixed in with certain potions. He had figured out the potion but he couldn’t figure out how to brew it.

Finally, class was finally coming to a close and Snape was standing in front, demanding the one who knew the answer.

“Mr. Malfoy?” he asked, turning sharply on the blond-headed Slytherin.

“A Conducting Locking Potion?” Malfoy suggested hopefully.

“No, but five points for effort.” Snape remarked. “Anyone else?” no raised their hands. Not even Hermione, who couldn’t figure it out and was still feverishly looking. Harry wasn’t sure if he was right, it was a choice between three and he was just assuming this one. He didn’t want to say though, Snape was already mad enough at him.

“Fine, all of you, expect Mr. Malfoy, who at least tried, have homework.” Malfoy grinned like an idiot. Harry rolled his eyes. And Hermione looked over.

“Wait a minute,” she mumbled and then began flipping her pages until she was on the same page as Harry. “Is it the Blooming Iris Potion, sir?” She called out and Snape froze.

“Yes, but seeing as you didn’t answer earlier, it doesn’t count.” But Hermione didn’t care, she was glaring at Harry. She rounded on him once class was dismissed.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You knew the answer since the beginning of the hour!” Hermione accused and Harry shrugged.

“I wasn’t sure,” Harry hissed and glanced at Snape. “And if I was wrong, Snape would’ve loved it, especially after today’s Defense.” Hermione seemed to understand but pursed her lips in annoyance.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape called out as the class filed out. “Stay after.” Harry hung back, sharing a quick glance with Ron before his red headed friend left. Once the class was gone, Professor Snape looked at him. “You’re failing my class Potter.” Snape commented dryly. “You have two choices, one, drop out, or two, take Remedial Potions with me on Tuesdays. I dare say, if you want to become an Auror, I’d chose the latter.”

“Who says I do?” Harry muttered to himself.

“What was that Mr. Potter?” Snape demanded darkly.

“I’ll take Remedial Potions, sir.” Harry said, on split second decision. Snape’s eyes narrowed, obviously spending his Tuesdays with Harry Potter wasn’t his greatest idea of fun.

“Fine,” he spat out darkly. Harry figured that this hadn’t been his idea to begin with. “See you on Tuesdays, at eight. You may leave.”

Harry left without a glance back. He caught up with his friends in the Great Hall as they sat down to dinner. “So, what’d he want?” Ron demanded.

“I have to take Remedial Potions,” Harry muttered and Hermione shot him a quick glance. “Real Remedial Potions,” he cleared up, knowing that Hermione was thinking of Occlumency.

“Why?” Neville asked, horrified.

“Failing his class,” Harry commented and that was the end of the conversation. Neville didn’t explain what Snape had done, they never talked about it actually, figuring if Neville wanted too, he’d bring it up on his own.

It was later that night, Harry found himself sitting on the boulder by the lake. He kept thinking about the boggart. Why did was he afraid of being lonely? He had Hermione and all of the Weasleys, it was an almost ludicrous fear. But yet, the boggart doesn’t lie.

Harry shuddered. He wasn’t sure he liked his new found discovery.

Harry’s days went in a bit of blur. He found himself constantly outside, sitting on the boulder by the lake, trying to make sense of things but never getting anywhere. After a while, he realized that when he was distracted, he seemed to feel better. So he found himself working harder at Quidditch and wasting his time on homework or playing wizard’s chess.

The first Tuesday he had with Remedial Potions was a disaster. Harry’s potion, though halfway decent, wasn’t good enough to even be considered by Snape. In the end, the whole session was horrid. Harry figured he was lucky to get out of there with House Points still in the hourglass.

At first, Harry was heading to go back outside when he found himself detouring to the library instead. The library was crammed full of fifth years, all scrambling to do their piles of homework. Harry found himself sympathetic with them.

He nodded at the ones who greeted him, which Harry had the suspicion was almost everyone in there. But he didn’t mind, for once, probably because he was in there for a reason. Nodding at a third year Ravenclaw, Harry walked down a row of books, his fingers stumbling over their binds.

He wasn’t sure if he’d find it, but he wanted too. The farther back he got, the more wheezy the books seemed to be. He randomly picked up books, scanned them, and found that they weren’t what he was looking for and shoved them back into place.

After a while, Harry was just about to give up, when he picked up a book and found to his relief that it was the one he as looking for. Scanning through the spells, Harry realized the spells were terribly hard. It would take him a while to learn them.

His trek back through the library wasn’t quite as slow as it was before. And back in the common room, Harry found Hermione and Ron gone on Prefect duty, and Neville still away with Madame Pomfrey.

Yet, he didn’t mind. He ran upstairs, grabbed the knife Sirius gave him, the one that unlocked any lock, but instead he was using it for something different.

He grabbed a wooden box, one he had ordered via owl and without much thought to anything else, began to carve into the lid.

Harry wasn’t great at carving, he hadn’t really done it before, but he found himself working with it at times. Mostly when he had been bored and under the cupboard under the stairs. He stole a kitchen knife and carved into the wall. He found he wasn’t bad.

He hadn’t carved in a while, but he found a sudden urge too. A way to distract himself. The book was a book on the muggle way of carving, if he needed it, and then some very complicated spells on making the carving move (if he wanted too), or to start over if he messed up.

Sirius’s knife, sharp and charmed a bit to unlock anything, made a great carving knife. Harry found, if he could pull it off, he could make very fine details.

He wasn’t sure how long he carved, but he did, engraving finely into wooden box’s lid. After a while, he heard the footsteps of the others coming up to the room, and he put everything up, hurriedly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted them to see what he was doing. They’d probably think he was mad, seeing as he could easily do with magic but he was doing it the muggle way.

Yet, Harry found it relieving to do it the muggle way. It took his mind off everything he seemed to be confused and caught up in. He felt oddly at peace, but not in the bad way, where he just became oblivious to everything, it was like he found a way of doing something that allowed him to just be himself, at the current moment at least.

“You okay, mate?” Ron asked as he walked in. “Snape try and kill you?” He laughed.

“Almost, I think.” Harry responded sheepishly as he flopped into bed.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Ron smiled. “It won’t be forever.”

Harry found himself walking back into the castle one day, after spent a while by the lake carving, when Ginny came out of the Great Hall.

“Hey, Harry, Whatcha doing here?” she asked and Harry looked at her startled.

“Walking,” Harry commented causing Ginny to scowl.

“Yes, I noticed.” Ginny said darkly. “But do you realize it’s Tuesday?” Harry’s eyes went wide.

“What time is it?” Harry demanded.

“Eight oh five,” Ginny informed.

“Bloody hell!” Harry cried out and he took off running. He skidded to a halt outside of Snape’s classroom door seconds later.

“You’re late,” Snape snapped as soon as Harry entered. “What’s your excuse, because I’m doing this on my own time Potter? If you don’t want to be here, then tell me. I have several better things to do, rather then spend my time teaching you how to do potions when you’re in an un-required N.E.W.T. level class!” Snape glared at Harry, leaning over his desk daringly.

“I—I,” excuses ran through Harry’s head. All more far-fetched then the last. “I forgot,” he finally stated truthfully. What did he care if Snape stopped teaching him Remedial Potions? He didn’t want to be an Auror anymore, he was sick of fighting. He had come to that conclusion when Ron declared himself no longer wanting to be an Auror. But Ron could get out of it, Harry couldn’t. Everyone expected him to an Auror.

So, what better way to get out of it, then to get kicked out Potions.

“Five points from Gryffindor, for your forgetfulness.” Snape snarled. “Now, set up your cauldron. But believe me, I would love to kick you out of Potions, but this was McGonagall’s idea.” Harry, a bit in disappointment and a bit startled, gathered up his cauldron and ingredients.

“Now, it’s obvious that you understand the ingredients, but that doesn’t make a difference if you don’t understand how to use them in the potion.” Snape lectured as he observed Harry starting. “Think of it this way, Potter, the potion is a spell, or curse that you’ve got to break through.” Harry froze. He didn’t know did he? “You go through stages,” Snape continued. “To break a spell, or curse, you take it slowly, doing this at this certain time and that at that certain time. A potion is much like that. You add the ingredients then and there because that’s their stage.”

Snape turned around and went to his own potion that he was working on. Harry eyed him warily before turning back to his own potion. What Snape said, it made more sense then anything Harry had thought about before. And it seemed to be working.

As Harry imagined the potion as a curse he was trying to break, the Potion seemed to follow his lead. For once, Harry knew what the hell he was doing.

They worked in silence, for a longer time then the last Remedial Potion session, and every now and then Harry glanced up to see what Snape was working on. But Harry couldn’t place the potion.

Finally, after what seemed hours, Snape walked over and looked carefully at Harry’s potion. Harry glanced down and found that it was actually right.

“It’s Acceptable Potter, but you need to keep working.” Snape declared. “On Thursdays I’ve been requested to help restock the potions for Poppy. She’s running low. Every other Thursday you will report here and help. You just need to practice Potter. Dismissed.” Snape ordered.

Harry left a bit startled. He came in with the chance of didn’t kicked out of the Potions for good and left with extra sessions. “Great,” he muttered, as he rubbed his neck. It was hurting a bit from craning so much over his carving.

His trick step was acting up a bit, so much indeed that Harry was tempted just to have Madame Pomfrey reset it the muggle way. Then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to re-break his leg. If it was a muggle way, then Madame Pomfrey more then likely didn’t know how to do it properly and who knows what will happen then.

The Common Room was packed when Harry entered. He looked around and found Ginny, Neville, Ron and Hermione, crammed into a corner.

“Hey, guys, why’s it so packed in here?” Harry asked wonderingly.

“Madame Price had a fit and kicked everyone out of the library,” Ron informed, smiling stupidly.

“How was your session?” Hermione asked and Harry rolled his eyes.

“First, I’m almost kicked out of Potions for good, and then I end up getting more sessions. Thursdays, every other week.” Harry moaned as he sat down with a flop. Ron looked stricken, Neville was horrified, while Hermione had a look that said it was all for the best.

“When’s the next Hogsmead weekend?” Ron finally asked.

“Not for a while,” Ginny commented sadly. Harry had pulled out his Transfiguration homework and was working on it slowly and listening as they all talked. “I’m not too sure why,” she continued. “We haven’t had one in a while.”

“They haven’t change the schedule from when Voldemort was a threat,” Hermione informed, making quite a lot of sense. Ron moaned slightly, obviously he wanted a Hogsmead weekend, just as badly as everyone else.

So, slowly, Harry’s life began to become routine.

Whenever he had free time, he found himself carving. On Mondays they had Quidditch practice, Tuesdays he had Remedial Potions, and Wednesdays were usually the DA meeting or just Quidditch practice. Thursdays, every other, he had Potions with Snape again, and Fridays varied.

However, Harry found it wasn’t that bad. And his carving was slowly drawing to a close. He wasn’t sure why he took on this project, the carving was turning out worse then he thought it would, but he still found himself working on it. He was already trying to learn the spell to erase the carving. It was harder then he thought.

A few weeks later, Harry was sitting on his bed, the carving before him, Sirius’s knife buried in the bed sheets and he was lost. He wanted to do something, but he had already finished the carving, and was sick of working on the erasing spell.

Glancing at the calendar, he found it was Thursday, not his average Thursday to go help Snape, but it was something to do. Hermione and Ron were layered with Perfect duties; Neville went ahead and went down to help Madame Pomfrey, even though it wasn’t his day. Sighing, Harry shrugged.

“It’s not like Snape will kill me or anything, and I could use something to do.” Harry muttered to himself. Jumping up from his bed, leaving everything where it was, Harry left the dormitory and made his way down to the dungeons.

“Harry!” Ginny cried out, trying to get Harry’s attention. “Do you know what happened to the sweets the twins sent?” she asked once she had attention in the middle of the Entrance Hall.

“Oh, Ron has them, on the nightstand beside his bed,” Harry said offhandedly and Ginny growled.

“Well, honestly!” she scowled and turned around, making a beeline for Ron’s Prefect route. Harry chuckled. Every since the beginning of the year, Harry, Ron and Ginny had all been selling Fred and George’s tricks. Flitch had banded all Wizard Wheezes, or at least anything in the catalog. But seeing as they got new tricks from Fred and George, not yet in the catalog, what they were doing wasn’t against the rules.

Harry found himself in front of Snape’s door in no time. Sighing, he knocked lightly.

“Enter,” Snape’s voice called out. “Mr. Potter?” Snape asked in disbelief. “It isn’t the right Thursday.” He commented as soon as Harry entered. Harry shrugged a bit.

“Just...erm—you need any help?” he finally asked.

“You must truly be bored,” Snape commented but gestured nonetheless for him to set up a cauldron. A thick silence fell between them.

“Is it true?” Snape finally asked. “McGonagall won’t stop talking about it, but has Mr. Weasley truly strayed from the path of being an Auror?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry breathed. He wanted to stray from that path too, not that he would say anything. “Wants to be either a professional Quidditch player or part of the Magical Reversal Squad.”

“He should try for both, if he leans more toward the Quidditch player idea.” Snape commented with an impassive voice.

“That’s what Hermione said,” Harry said and a silence fell between them. Harry had the impression Snape didn’t like being told he thought the same thing as Hermione.

“Tell me, what does our Miss Granger want to be?” Snape finally asked.

“She wants to go into the Protection of Magical Creatures Bureau,” Harry informed. Hermione had finally decided that that was what she was going to do, and had told everyone in their group. So, it was no longer a secret.

“Truly,” Snape seemed intrigued. Nothing much was said after that. Harry found he no longer nervous or annoyed when around Snape and his potion. It was easier, somehow, working next to Snape rather then having him breathing down his neck.

Then, suddenly, right as Harry was bottling one of his potions, the door burst open and in stumbled Ginny. Harry looked at her startled, Snape hardly reacted.

“There you are,” Ginny gasped, staring straight at Harry.

“Here I am,” Harry commented.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Ginny continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “I went up to get the sweats back and I found it.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been working on it?”

Harry started, she found his carving.

“I-I—err—you see—not long—err...” Harry found himself stuttering. Suddenly, he was very aware of Snape staring at him and Ginny too.

“How come I’ve never seen you working on it?” Ginny demanded, hands on her hips.

“You’re never around,” Harry muttered. “Listen, does it matter this much. Why’d you come looking for me...just because of it? How’d you know I here by the way?”

“Of course it matters!” Ginny snapped. “And I went to the last place most people wouldn’t check, I know how you work Mr. Potter. Now, why’d you work on it when I wasn’t around? Or do you mean no one was around?”

Harry was still very aware that Snape was still in the room.

“Err...” he began and beside him Snape straightened up.

“I need to get these to Poppy,” he declared. “I’ll just leave you two here to get over your spat, don’t ruin anything Potter.” Snape snapped as he billowed out of the room.

Ginny crossed her arms. “Why? Did you feel it was necessary to find it or something?”

“No,” Harry began sheepishly. “I was doing it the muggle way, and I figured you’d all think I was mental. It was just something I was doing anyway.” Harry said, waving his hand offhandedly.

“No, Harry, we wouldn’t think you were mental. It’s bloody brilliant,” she muttered. Digging into her bag, which was crammed full of fifth year books, she pulled out the wooden box. Harry glanced down at the carving and shrugged.

“It’s bad,” he muttered and Ginny laughed.

“Yeah right, and Snape can’t do Potions...Harry’s this is brilliant. I didn’t know you could carve.”

“I can’t; well not really, I use to carve when I was little. I carved on the walls in the cupboard under the stairs.” Harry set on the edge of a desk and Ginny did the same thing, the wooden box still in her hands.

On the cover, was a very detailed picture of Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix. At the moment when Harry started, he hadn’t been sure what to carve, so he carved the first picture that came to mind. It was of Fawkes flying, as he had seen the bird do a few times.

“Is it charmed?” Ginny finally asked.

“No, should I charm it?” Harry asked offhandedly. “I know the spell.”

“No, I like it this way. I almost think it’s moving. You should keep doing this.” Ginny suggested and Harry shrugged. This was a weird conversation to have in a Potions Classroom. “Will you carve me one?”

Harry glanced up, wonderingly. “I’ll buy the wooden box and all. Can you carve anything?”

“Don’t guarantee that it’ll be any good, but yeah, I guess.” Harry muttered sheepishly.

“Do you remember that time when we were all just sitting in front of the lake, at the end of your third, my second, year. After we figured out the truth of Sirius and we were all content?” Harry nodded, he remembered that because they had all talked about what it would be like for Harry to leave the muggles. He found the memory pleasing.

“Can you carve that?” she asked and Harry shrugged. He wasn’t going to take the carving thing seriously, but he’d do it for Ginny. It was just a side, far side, hobby.

“Sure, just let’s keep it between us...for now.” Harry suggested and Ginny nodded in agreement.

“So, what did you talk about with Snape?” Ginny asked and Harry shrugged.

“Ron and Hermione’s jobs after Hogwarts...what do you want to become?” Harry asked, and for a minute the both forgot they where in Snape’s classroom in the dungeons.

“Either a Healer, not Herbalist though, or what Charlie does with dragons. Either way, I have to have potions and I’m not good at that.” Ginny sounded anxious. “What do you think?”

“Think you should do the dragon one, it’s much more you. Plus, Charlie can help you get started. I’m not sure what your mum will say though.” Harry laughed and Ginny nodded in agreement.

“I’ve been leaning more in that direction, but that means I’ll have to start trying harder in Potions and Care of Magical Creatures. I’m sorry, flobberworms are hard to take seriously.” Harry nodded in agreement. Hagrid had reached the area of flobberworms with fifth years. Sixth year class wasn’t much more fun either. “How ‘bout you? Do you want to still be an Auror?”

No one had asked Harry that question that way before. At first he opened his mouth to lie, but Ginny had told him the truth, so he should too. “No, not anymore. I’ve been thinking and I want to become a curse breaker for Gringotts, much like Bill.” Ginny looked startled. “But I’ll probably stick to being an Auror, that’s what everyone expects anyway.”

Ginny looked like she was about to say something when the door to the classroom opened and Snape walked in.

“Still here?” he asked in surprise.

“Err—just leaving,” Harry said, jumping to his feet. Snape watched him, then looked at Ginny, his eyes falling on the wooden box. Ginny must’ve followed his eyes because she thrust the box into Harry’s hands, instead of hiding it.

Harry shot Ginny a lot that said ‘I’ll get you for that’ and shoved the box into a large pocket of his robes. Snape stepped aside and let them pass by. He was eyeing Harry carefully, who in turn was carefully avoiding his gaze.

Ginny and Harry didn’t speak, though Ginny looked like she was going too, several times. But Harry took her off topic. Finally they met up with Neville and Luna, and walked to the library together.

Later that night, before Harry climbed the steps to his dormitory, Ginny stopped him. “I’ll order the box in the morning,” stating that she wasn’t about to forget. Harry grinned at her sheepishly and climbed the steps.

He fell asleep, a bit relieved. At least someone knew what he truly wanted to do, not that being an Auror would be bad, but he was just sick of having to constantly fight. He had planned his life on having to fight Voldemort, but now that it was over, he could do what he wanted but he everyone expected him to be an Auror and fight more.

He wasn’t sure he wanted that.

“You’re mental!” Ron cried out as Hermione presented him with a study table. They were sitting in the common room, Hermione pouring over her books while Ginny paced nervously rereading some important essay for Charms.

“Ron, considering we’re in N.E.W.T. classes, we’re given exams to make sure that we are legible to continue in say class.” Hermione lectured as Ron gaped at her.

“Meaning,” Harry commented, “that if we fail we can get kicked out.” Ron pursed his lips together darkly and stared at the study chart. She only left them a few hours of free time each week.

“You’d almost think we were taking the N.E.W.T. s,” Ron snarled as Hermione slapped down a chart in front of Harry and went back to her own essay. Harry realized that she had left open the times for Remedial Potions. He sighed slightly. The truth was, he didn’t need them anymore, but either it was him, not requesting to get out, or Snape, not bothering to tell him to stop coming.

Either way, Harry found himself at ease when he did them. In a way, he rather enjoyed it because he didn’t have to worry about anything and if, by some odd chance, they started talking, it was always about something trivial.

Outside it was snowing heavily, which meant bad weather for their Quidditch game this coming Saturday.

“C’mon Harry, seeing let’s go get use to this conditions,” Ron muttered, bluntly ignoring the time slot that declared it time for studying Transfiguration. Hermione shot them a dark look, but Harry, not up for studying, leapt to his feet and took off quickly.

“We’ll cream Slytherin, I’m sure of it!” Ron said, pounding his fist into his hand as they trudged through the snow. Ron had a quaffle under his arm, so he could work on blocking.

The Quidditch pitch, charmed to not let snow rise above a foot, was thickly layered. Harry smiled slightly. What he told Snape was true, he’d never make it as a Professional Quidditch player; he loved the game but not that much. Yet, he’d play it until he left Hogwarts.

They spent almost two hours playing. After a while, they abandoned throwing the quaffle and started to throw snowballs at each other. Ron made tight, small ones and threw some for Harry to dive and catch. Yet, soon it was just a snowball fight.

Finally, they gave up there game, from just being cold stiff, and went indoors. They sprinted into the Entrance Hall, laughing and ducking a few scattered snowballs. Ron threw one, just as they entered, and Harry dodged it easily. Ron turned and watched the ball of white soar through the air and landed on the back of an unwitting professor.

Ron’s eyes had gone wide, and Harry was already backing away slowly.

Slowly, and in the most deadly way, Professor Snape turned around, his black eyes flashing. First they dug themselves into Harry’s eyes, and then they snapped onto Ron, who gulped.

“Mr. Weasley, will you please accompany me to my office?” It was the farthest thing from a request Harry had ever heard. Ron nodded a bit.

“It’s my worst nightmare come true,” Ron gulped as he trailed after Snape, slowly and anxiously. Snape had already charmed the snow from his hair. Harry waited until his friend was out of sight before walking off.

“Where’s Ron?” Hermione demanded the instant Harry sat down at the table in the Common Room.

“Threw a snowball and it hit Professor Snape,” Harry informed, and Ginny looked up horrified.

“Will I ever see my brother again?” she asked, her voice easily teasing.

“Depends, really,” Harry laughed but Hermione had already stood up, and was slamming her books closed. “What’s up with you?”

“Have Prefect duty, sometimes this duty stuff really bites into my time.” With that she left and Harry turned to Ginny, wide-eyed.

“Did she just insult being a Prefect?” he asked and Ginny nodded a bit. “We’re just going mental.” Harry mumbled darkly. After that, he joined Neville in a game of Globstones and then headed to bed. Tucked away in his trunk was what he had been carving for Ginny, but it was coming along slowly. His free time seemed to be waning.

Ron wasn’t there by time Harry fell asleep, but Harry had gone to bed early.

The problem with going to bed early, for Harry at least, was that he always ends up waking at ungodly times in the morning. The next morning, he woke up at six o’clock and couldn’t go back to sleep.

Finally, after lying there for a few minutes Harry pulled himself out of bed, got dressed and went into the common room. He worked on Ginny’s carving for a while and then decided to go downstairs.

He knew breakfast ranged from seven thirty to eight thirty. Upon entering the hall, he found it deserted but food popped up on the table at his entry. Shrugging, he sat down and began to eat, slowly.

After a few minutes of an unnerving silence, Harry having buried his head into his right hand and eating he just barely didn’t notice the door open and someone enter. He felt oddly alone, like how the boggart had made him feel that one day. He had until that time, tried not to think about it but yet he seemed to understand it.

He knew he’d never be alone, with the Weasleys and Hermione and everyone else that were his friends, but this was a different sort of alone. One he couldn’t explain. Shuddering a bit, Harry pressed his head into his hand a bit more.

Suddenly, someone sat across from him. Startled Harry looked up and found the Potions Master, Professor Snape, sitting opposite him, his thoughts all seeming set on buttering his toast.

“Err—morning, Professor,” Harry said, his voice a bit grateful. He wasn’t sure why, but he was glad that the man had sat down with him.

“Morning, Mr. Potter,” Snape said with a quick glance up. They sat in silence after that. But it wasn’t the usual silence that fell between them as it was during Remedial Potions, just a comfortable silence.

They ate like for a long time, before the voices of the students began to drift down. Professor Snape stood up and retreated out of the hall, Harry having no doubt as to why. A student walking in and seeing Professor Snape and Harry Potter eating breakfast together wouldn’t be the best thing. They might, if Hufflepuff or Neville, faint, or just think they’re mental.

By time Ron and Hermione came down to breakfast the whole student body seemed to already be there. “Hey, mate, how long have you been here?”

“Hmm...a while, I just woke up early.” Harry mumbled as Ron rolled his eyes.

Later, Harry found himself walking into Potions class with Ron and Hermione flank on each side of him.

“I’m telling you, mate, if we teach ‘em ‘o to do that charm, we’ll never win a duel again. I don’t think I can stand to lose to Ernie,” Ron complained.

“I don’t think it works that way, mate!” Harry sighed. “Anyway, it’s the next spell in the book, and Gary’s not doing any better, Snape only subs the days that Gary had nothing planned, so we’ve got to teach it. And if you’re worried about losing to Ernie...well, just don’t duel him.” Hermione snorted at this while Ron glared.

Neville motioned for Harry to set up next to him, while Ron and Hermione continued the arguing about teaching the DA the spell or not.

“This is a burning potion, if made correctly it’ll burn your skin quicker then you can blink. So those who are prone to accidents might want to be extra careful.” Snape informed glancing pointedly at Neville.

“Great,” Neville moaned as Snape put the ingredients on the board.

“The ingredients will disappear from the board in thirty minutes.” Snape called out and instantly the students scrambled to write down the list.

“I still don’t see why we should,” Ron continued complaining. “It’s a hard spell; we don’t even have it down completely.”

“Ronald, stow it!” Hermione finally snapped, startling half the class. On a quieter note, Hermione added. “Ron, they look to us to teach ‘em, so we should. Not hold back because we don’t want to risk them getting stronger then us.”

Ron looked annoyed but didn’t say anything. After a while a tempered silence fell between them. Harry shared a look with Neville that clearly stated that the next DA meeting would be bad.

Snape was making his rounds, eyeing each potion with his usual praises for the Slytherins and sneers for the Gryffindors. Hermione seemed to be doing okay and as she added ingredients, she made sure that she didn’t splash up any of the liquid.

Harry leaned back, his potion stewing for a few moments and looked around at his classmates. Ron looked horrified, his potion was orange instead of bright red, Hermione looked calm and Malfoy looked bored. He was just slopping his ingredients in without a care.

Snape leaned over, whispered something and Malfoy stopped tossing his ingredients. Harry raised an eyebrow; he had never seen something like that before.

Glancing sideways, he found Neville’s potion actually the right color. Neville had pulled Harry aside one day and told him Snape had pulled him aside for an extra lesson in potions and showed him a better way to make the potion. He suggested to Neville to think of the potion as a plant, which he was growing.

Harry smiled to himself at that thought. He had suggested one day to Snape that he did what he had with Harry and breaking a curse, or spell, and comparing it to a potion. It had worked. Apparently he had taken the advice. Not that Harry would ever comment on it.

Harry watched as Neville grabbed some spider legs and made to add them. Staring, Harry glanced at Neville’s potion list and then back at the potion. Suddenly, Harry realized that Neville had missed an ingredient.

“Neville, no!” Harry cried out, but it was too late. Neville had dropped the spider legs into the potion. Without a thought, Harry grabbed the collar of Neville’s robes and dragged him down, and Hermione instantly cast a shielding charm around her and Ron.

The potion exploded not a second later, showering the place where Harry and Neville once stood and sprinkling Hermione and Ron. Yet there was too much potion and it was moving too fast. Harry found himself placing himself between the Potion and Neville.

He closed his eyes, expecting the worse, and for a minute he felt only pain as the potion splattered his back lightly. Then it stopped. Sighing, he shook his back the best he could and the pain disappeared.

Turning, Harry found Snape standing between him and the potion, his wand raised. The potion was frozen in the air, inches from being splattered onto Snape’s chest. Harry stood up slowly, dragging Neville up with him. He instantly regretted the move.

Hissing in pain, Harry stepped backwards, Neville pushing a bit into him. The boy was shaking and pale with horror. Neville’s movement caused Harry to stumble a bit and slam his right hand into some of the potion that was onto puddles on the desktops.

Snape spun around instantly at Harry’s cry of pain, which was something that he couldn’t hold back when slamming his hand into a skin burning potion. “Miss Granger, watch the class.” With a wave of his wand all the potions in all the cauldrons disappeared. “If anyone tries to make this potion while I’m gone, you’ll wish you never heard the word Hogwarts.”

With that he grabbed Harry by his shoulder and led him out of the classroom. Snape led him quickly to the Hospital Wing without a word and then pushed him onto a bed; Harry was surprised to find it was the one he pointed out as being his favorite, before calling Madame Pomfrey.

“Again, Mr. Potter? Back so soon?” Madame Pomfrey demanded with a raised eyebrow.

“Burning Potion, on the back and right hand,” Snape informed and instantly Madame Pomfrey scuttled away. “I’ve got to go back to class, Mr. Potter, before who knows what happens.” Snape informed before turning and whisking off.

“Take off your shirt Mr. Potter; I need to see to your back.” Madame Pomfrey ordered, and for the next hour Harry’s back was pasted over in cream while his hand was bandaged up lightly. It hurt, stung, whenever he closed it into a fist. “This cream will make you tired Mr. Potter, make sure you take it easy.”

Finally, after a good hour and a half, Harry was free to go to the Great Hall. Neville instantly dived forward, his face pale and his eyes near tears. “I’m so sorry Harry, I really am.”

“It’s okay Neville, really.” Harry said sheepishly. Ron was eyeing his hand.

“Will you be able to play Quidditch with that hand?” he asked, worriedly.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, but he looked at his own hand in worry. Squeezing it into a fist was one of the most painful things ever. But he wouldn’t admit it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t play,” Hermione commented worriedly.

“Are you kidding me?” Ron asked in horror. “We’re playing Slytherin, without Harry we’ll die.”

“You’re mental,” Harry muttered. “Anyway, my hand should be fine by Monday.” Neville was still pale and he was looking down sadly. “Neville it’s really okay, I’m fine.” Neville didn’t respond, but Harry couldn’t say much beyond that. To a point, it really was Neville’s fault, but Harry couldn’t really blame him too much.

“C’mon, Harry, let’s go work with your hand and catching,” Ron said as Snape stalked by.

“I better not, let’s do it tomorrow. Poppy said the stuff she put on my back will make me tired.” Hermione nodded in agreement, and Ron looked a bit put off.

Harry fell asleep not long after they entered the common room. He was slumped in a chair in the far side of the common room, oblivious to most in the room. Around midnight, the common room was empty and Harry was curling into himself, not close enough to fire to be warm.

Shivering, he rolled over, digging his face into the fabric of the chair. He almost felt like someone entered the common room but he was too tired to look around. The clock chimed midnight.

“Harry...Harry—wake up!” a voice called out and Harry started. Blurrily he opened his eyes and found Ron and Hermione standing in front of him.

“C’mon mate, you’ve overslept.” Ron said, backing up as Harry climbed out of his seat. Harry was startled to find himself wrapped in a blanket, tightly.

“D’you put this on me?” he asked Hermione and Ron who both shook their heads. “Wonder who then,” he mumbled, as he shook his head and straightened out his robes best he could.

“We’re going to work with your hand tonight, right?” Ron asked as they scrambled through the portrait hole. Harry nodded and his friend grinned stupidly. “We’re going to cream Slytherin!”

The Quidditch game was upon them in a matter of days, and the Gryffindor team was on edge. It was still snowing outside, lightly, and Harry’s hand kept letting the snitch get through. He couldn’t keep a tight enough grip on it, because every time he tried to close it, a searing pain soared through it.

Yet, Harry refused to drop out of the game. So, he found himself, soaring above the sky on Saturday, in the light snowflakes, watching as the two rival teams battled it out.

“Hey, Potter,” Malfoy called out, swooping to a stop beside him. “You think you’re so great.”

“Yes, I tend to think that when I’m up so high, above so many people.” Harry replied cheekily.

“You’re going to lose, you’re hand’s ruin. Heard you can’t keep hold of the snitch.” Malfoy jeered darkly.

“Really?” Harry asked, crushing his hand into a fist causing Malfoy’s eyes to narrow darkly. Obviously he thought Harry couldn’t do that. Growling, he flipped around, and flew off. Instantly Harry let go of his fist, wincing in pain.

The Slytherins were getting vicious as the game progressed. Ron was having a hard time, and Ginny and Katie, obviously the most important players to the team, were getting beaten. Yet, Gryffindor, more by Ron’s skill, was maintaining a tight lead.

“Harry, find the snitch and fast,” Ginny gasped as she flew by. Harry nodded and started to scan for the snitch harder then usual.

Malfoy and Harry were keeping an eye out on each other while they soared, close, but at a good distance from each other. Glancing to his side, Harry watched Ron make a spectacular save.

Smiling slightly, Harry spun around, snowflakes whipping his face, and saw a glint of gold. His eyes instantly flashed. He stared, hard, in the general direction where he saw the glint. Then, he spotted the snitch. Malfoy had also spotted it.

Now, it was just a dive of skill.

Harry instantly fell into a quick dive, the snitch glittering inches from the ground, on one of the clothed sides of the pitch. The dive was going to be tricky, so tricky indeed that Harry might not be able pull out of it in time.

A buldger flung out of nowhere, causing Harry to spiral out of his dive to avoid being knocked completely out the dive. Malfoy jeered loudly, as he pulled ahead.

“It won’t work,” Harry mumbled to himself. Then, did something he never thought he’d do, he pulled out of his dive, and instead flew in a horizontal line, much to the annoyance of the fans. “This is going to be hard.”

First sign of madness, Mr. Potter, talking to yourself. Snape’s voice suddenly flittered through him. He smiled sheepishly, somehow Snape’s voice made him want to pull this off more then before. Gritting his teeth, he flipped into a perfect vertical angle, going in a perfect dive down straight down.

The crowd roared, anyone could tell what Harry was doing was crazy. He wouldn’t be able to pull out of the dive, but that wasn’t what Harry was going for. Malfoy was coming at an angle, and suddenly Harry, at amazing speed, dropped before him.

Then, Harry did something even more insane. Using his back legs, he kicked upward, and dropped down hard onto the back of the broom, bringing it to a sharp horizontal angle. Malfoy hollered a curse and veered out of the way, losing himself into the snow.

Harry, still dropping quickly, shoved his trick leg into the snow himself, spun around and found himself flipping sideways to grab the snitch as he shot by. He winced as his bad hand clutched the flapping ball hard.

Then, he slipped off his own broom, having lost all grip and crashed into the snow. There was a pause of awe from the crowd, and then applause and cheers of the likes Harry had never heard before erupted the crowd.

The whole Gryffindor team was upon him seconds, all shouting and hollering like mad. Ron and Ginny were the first to tackle him, then Katie Bell, who more or less crushed him.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron shouted.

“You should’ve seen Malfoy, he was bloody furious!” Ginny laughed as everyone more or less dragged Harry off the field.

“How’d you do that?” Katie demanded once the team was in the locker room, lounging around and laughing with excitement.

“I have no bloody idea; I just knew I wouldn’t’ve been able to get it with the way I was going.” Harry was laughing.

“C’mon, let’s get to common room before they start partying without us.” Ron declared, more or less dragging Harry out of the locker room.

And he wasn’t wrong. By time they had gotten into the common room the party had already begun and it was in full swing.

How long they party, no one was sure, but hardly any student made it back to their bed. Most just fell asleep lounging around the common room. Even Hermione. All the Quidditch players were decked out in banners, trick ones made by Fred and George Weasley, and quite obviously Harry, Ron, Katie and Ginny were the heroes of the night. Ron and Harry more so.

All in all, it was one brilliant night.

Everything calmed down the next day, but that was probably due to the fact that half the Gryffindors woke up in the common room to a very stern looking Professor McGonagall standing over them.

“Mate, wake up, we’re in trouble,” Ron whispered, shaking Harry groggily. Harry turned over, and found Professor McGonagall standing in the entrance of the portrait hole, her hands on her lips and her nostrils flared.

Others were already rising up, looking around at each other, laughing at their friends’ riled hair. Then, they too noticed Professor McGonagall.

“I know it was a good Quidditch match,” McGonagall began, startling a few of the younger ones who’ve yet to notice her. “But this is ridiculous!” Her nostrils narrowed and flared all in one move. “I’m tempted just to take points off of Gryffindor because of this. Clean this up!” she ordered, before turning around and storming off.

All the Gryffindors looked at each other, shrugged and slowly they began to pick up their mess of a party. Hermione was beaming as she gathered Fred and George’s banners.

“Why are you smiling?” Ron demanded as he reluctantly began to tidy up. “Isn’t this what the House Elves are supposed to do?”

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione gasped, turning to glare at Ron. “How dare you? Do you know what House Elves have to go through, what they do...?” Harry drew away as his two best friends started to fight. He joined Neville and Ginny on the other side of the common room, and together the three of them avoided Ron and Hermione’s corner.

Finally, after half an hour the Common Room was clean, though not as clean as it usually is when House Elves do it. After everyone had left, leaving on Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny in the common room, they turned and looked at the poorly picked up room.

“Last night was quite the party,” Ron commented as they finally left through the portrait hole. It was almost lunchtime. “Well, that explains why McGonagall came.”

“Yes, I guess no Gryffindors showing up for breakfast on a Sunday would be suspicious,” Ginny giggled.

Sunday was a slow day, all the Gryffindors lounging around without a care in the world, even the fifth years gave up trying to study. Harry found himself, along with Ron and Neville, lounging around in an empty classroom. They were trying to avoid Hermione, who was insisting that they cleaned up the Common Room more than before.

Outside the snow at picked up. “Let’s go have a snowball fight,” Ron suggested and they all nodded. Harry slung his cloak, which was getting quite shabby with the passing years, and retreated outside with the others.

“I swear, we had more then half the school out there in that fight,” Ron panted as Harry and he stumbled up to the portrait of the Fat Lady. They had started, in Ron’s words, the largest snowball fight of Hogwarts history.

“Mr. Potter, come here,” Professor McGonagall ordered, appearing beside the boys like a ghost. Ron started a bit and the Fat Lady snorted. “Come,” she ordered again, and Harry giving Ron one last look, followed after her.

They walked down the corridors, passing students and professors alike, until they were in her office. “Take a seat, Mr. Potter.”

Harry sat on the edge of his chair, a bit nervous. “Now, I have two things to talk to you about,” she stated plainly. “Your Quidditch game yesterday, and this club of yours, which do not deny Mr. Potter you are continuing.” Harry nodded solemnly.

There was suddenly a knock at the door. “Enter,” McGonagall called out, shooting a look at Harry that clearly said ‘this-is-far-from-over.’ Harry sunk back into his chair somewhat.

Professor Snape entered the office with a stack of parchments. He glanced at Harry eyebrow raised and put the parchments on McGonagall’s desk. “Thank you, Severus.” Snape made to leave. “Oh, could you stay for a few minutes Professor?” Snape looked as if that was last thing he wanted to do, but did so anyway.

“Now, Mr. Potter, which topic do you think I should start on first?” McGonagall demanded. “You’re recklessness on the Quidditch pitch, or your illegal club?”

“Err—‘ow ‘bout neither.” Harry mumbled first. “Quidditch?” he suggested just as quickly.

“Now, Mr. Potter, you know I usually don’t get involved in Quidditch games seeing as it is indeed Quidditch. But I can’t overlook such a dangerous stunt.” McGonagall commented darkly. “Have you ever practiced that move?”

“Err—which answer would make you feel better?” Harry asked and McGonagall’s eyes flared. Beside him Snape shifted his weight obviously bored and a bit annoyed.

“Mr. Potter, if you ever pull a stunt like that again...I’ll reinstate your Quidditch ban.” McGonagall snapped and Harry started.

“What?” he gasped. “Wasn’t like I got hurt or anything! Plus, I couldn’t catch the snitch from that angle so I had to go at it differently.”

“Next time, Mr. Potter, figure out another way in which not so many dangers are present.” Harry shrugged hopeless and McGonagall’s eyes flashed. She paused, as if expecting Harry to say something, and Harry was on the verge of pulling out Ron’s old ‘excuse’ but decided against it. “Now, as to your club.”

“We started it last year, because of Umbridge, and the others just wanted to continue it this year.” Harry informed warily.

“Yes, yes, I heard all about the club.” At Harry’s wondering stare. “Black, Mr. Potter, Black. All the Order members knew, and he told me.”

“Oh, that would make sense,” Harry mumbled, sitting farther back in his chair.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were going to continue it this year?” McGonagall demanded.

“Err—that was their choice, and I just went along with it.” Harry informed, shrugging half heartedly.

“Well, I don’t want to have you stop the club, but I insist that it was observed under the eye of a Professor.” McGonagall declared. “Maybe you should ask Professor Gary.”

“What?” Harry sputtered. “Ma’am, half the reason we continued the DA this year is because of ‘m. He, I’m sorry, doesn’t have a clue of what he’s doing...ma’am.” Harry informed hurriedly. McGonagall’s eyes narrowed darkly.

“He’s right,” Snape suddenly informed. “I’ve only filled in twice for him, and it’s apparent that he’s not doing too great with his teaching.”

“When’s your next meeting, Mr. Potter?” McGonagall demanded.

“Err--,” Harry muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the coin which Hermione had charmed last year. He turned it a bit and stared. “Monday. Hmm...we’ll have to change that, Ernie and Justin have detention.” Forgetting for a moment that he was in the presence of teachers, he tapped his wand and changed the day.

“It’ll be Wednesday,” Harry finally informed, looking up to see both McGonagall and Snape staring at him. “Hermione made it, last year when we had to keep the club hidden and random.”

“Sometimes Miss Ganger never ceases to amaze me,” McGonagall muttered. “Well, Mr. Potter, you’ll need a Professor to observe you...maybe Professor Vector?”

“Really?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

“What does DA stand for anyway Mr. Potter?” McGonagall demanded.

“Ginny’s idea...Dumbledore’s Army...we figured we’d do it to spite Umbridge, Fudge, anyone afraid of that sort of thing.” McGonagall’s lips curled up in a faint smile.

“Well, Mr. Potter, tell us the location of your club and we’ll have a professor there to watch you.” McGonagall ordered and Harry shrugged.

“Room of Requirement,” Harry informed.

“Alright, Mr. Potter dismissed.” McGonagall ordered and Harry stood up.

Harry was back in the Common Room before anyone knew what was going on. He dashed over to Hermione and Ron and told them the whole story before they could even ask.

“Great!” Ron cursed. “Now we’re going to be observed. We’ll never get anything done!”

“Actually, if it’s Gary, we might get away with anything,” Hermione commented causing Ron and Harry to snort.

“Well, it’s been an odd weekend,” Harry sighed as he leaned back in the chair.

888

On Tuesday Harry found himself in Remedial Potions with Snape. At first, Harry was a bit worried about going because of the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch game, but Snape showed no signs of caring about it.

The usual silence was between them; Harry’s mind half on the potion, the other half on the DA meeting tomorrow.

“Good work, Potter,” Snape finally commented as Harry started to finish his potion. Just then, however, there was a knock at the door and Dumbledore walked in.

“Aha...Harry, just who I was looking for,” Dumbledore smiled. “You’ve got a letter? What are you doing down here?” he asked as he handed a letter to Harry. He was glancing between him and Snape.

“Remedial Potions,” Harry commented as he stared at the letter.

“I would say, Mr. Potter, that now you’re just doing extra potions.” Snape’s snide remark cut through him, but for once Harry didn’t react.

“The Dursleys?” Harry asked in shock, glancing up at Dumbledore, who just nodded. “H-how?”

“Owl, Mr. Potter, as must letters are delivered.” Snape remarked coldly.

“Yeah, but from the Dursleys?” Harry muttered before leaning against a desk and ripping open the letter. Dumbledore leaned over and engaged Snape in some sort of conversation.

Harry Potter:

It’s come to our attention that the madman who was the reason you had to stay at our house is finally dead. Therefore, the blood protection which your Aunt had over you no longer matters. Seeing as you no longer need that protection, we are writing you to inform you that you never have to return Number Four Privet Drive. Actually, do not return to Number Four Privet Drive.

Vernon Dursley

Harry gaped at the letter. Two feeling ran through him. Relief...relief in never having to return to the place he despised so much. Then, another feeling ran through him. An odd feeling of loneliness.

“What is it, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Here, I don’t want it...I—I’ve gotta go.” Harry shoved the letter into Dumbledore’s hands and left hurriedly. But he didn’t get far, before he turned down a deserted corridor and leaned against the wall.

He had never liked the Dursleys, he loathed going home for summer vacation, but it still struck him hard, being kicked out. He might not have like the place, but up until Hogwarts it had been the place he had called home. The Dursleys to a point were the only true family he had.

A wave of loneliness flooded over him. It was like the boggart all over again. He turned around and pressed his forehead into the stone wall. It was a sickening feeling and he didn’t even want to feel it just because of the Dursleys, but he was.

Tears leaked down his cheeks as he gritted his teeth. He hated that feeling, no wonder he feared it so much.

“Mr. Potter!” A sharp voice cut through him.

‘Great!’ Harry thought. ‘Every time I find myself crying, Snape just has to be there.’ Hurriedly, Harry wiped his eyes and turned around. Snape was standing at the end of the corridor, his face impassive.

“Yes, sir?” Harry asked.

“Are you lost?” Professor Snape demanded his voice unreadable.

“No,” Harry mumbled. Harry grabbed his bag and made to walk by Snape, back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Does it matter that much, Mr. Potter?” Snape demanded. “You didn’t seem to like them.”

Harry paused and sighed. “I—I didn’t...but I dunno how to explain it. They were my only family, in a way.” Harry sighed, and leaned against the wall, his back to Snape. “I knew they wanted to kick me out. I think since I got the Hogwarts letter...but more than likely before Third Year when I blew up Aunt Marge. I don’t know why I care so much that they kicked me out; I mean all they ever did was insult me...but...” Harry trailed off.

“You blew up your Aunt?” Snape asked his voice slightly amused.

“Err—I lost control because she was insulting mum and dad. Mostly mum.” Harry gritted his teeth at the thought. “Everyone talks about my dad, tells me everything they knew about him. But no one ever speaks of mum. Aunt Petunia was mum’s sister, and she just let Aunt Marge...she’s not even my aunt...insult her. I got angry. I figured since Aunt Petunia was mum’s sister, even if she didn’t like her, she wouldn’t allow mum to be insulted.” Harry paused, and looked around as he realized he was rambling.

“I think that’s why I care so much, that I was kicked out. They might’ve treated me like scum, but it was the closest I ever got to mum...or any family. It makes me feel weird...lonely.” Harry shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, really.” And with that Harry walked off, without a glance at Snape.

In the Common Room, he retreated to a corner and began to idly flip through a spell book. Ron and Hermione were off on Prefect duty, while Neville was still with Madame Pomfrey and Ginny in the library. This routine was becoming a common occurrence.

After a while, Harry couldn’t take it anymore and he retreated upstairs to go to bed. But he only laid there for hours on end. He hadn’t fallen asleep by the time he heard the others all come up to bed. Not even by the time Ron was snoring.

A clock chimed midnight by time Harry fell asleep and he woke up at seven. Sighing, he pulled himself through this usual routine of getting dressed and washing. By time he was finished it was seven thirty.

The Great Hall was empty, as it had been last time. Sighing, Harry grabbed some toast and started to butter it. However, he was only halfway through that when someone entered and sat down before him.

Glancing up he found it was Snape.

“Morning,” they said in unison before falling into a comfortable silence.

It went in much the same way as it had the first time, and when the voices of the students began to arise, Snape stood up and left. After he was gone, Harry felt that he wasn’t quite as lonely as before. Harry just couldn’t explain it.

888

“Do we have to wait for the Professor?” Ron asked as all the DA members sat around wondering.

“McGonagall never said anything along those lines,” Harry commented.

“Alright then, let’s begin,” Hermione jumped to her feet. The others followed her example. “Break up into two groups,” she ordered and instantly the members divided. Harry, Ron, and Ginny took one half while Hermione, Neville and Luna took the other half.

It was a slow practice. Ron and Ernie kept getting into fights while Cho kept losing control of the spell. It turned out Ron and Neville only had a sketchy idea of the spell which annoyed Ernie.

“They’re going to kill each other!” Harry commented to Hermione, as he backed up to the door of the room, avoiding a spell from Cho. “Cho, get a stronger grip!” Harry called out, just as the door swung open and smacked him hard in the back of the head. He stumbled forward and crashed into a cushion.

Instantly everyone started to laugh causing Harry to flush.

“Door there, Harry,” Ron laughed as they all turned to see who opened the door. Standing in the doorway was Professor Snape, his face slightly amused and his eyes on Harry, who hadn’t gotten up yet.

“Professor?” Hermione began.

“I’m here to observe you,” Snape declared and the others nodded in understanding. “Continue,” he said with a wave of his hand. Jumping up, Harry walked back over to his group. Ernie was grinning like a fool and Harry glanced around to see Ron growling.

“Ginny,” Harry called out. She looked over, eyed Ernie and Ron, and nodded. Harry switched with Ernie and started to work with Justin. After a minute he could hear Ginny shouting, much like the twins, at Ron and Ernie.

“That’s cruel, Harry,” Hannah laughed as he turned to help her.

“I’ll watch my back,” Harry informed, glancing sideways and at Ernie and Ron, who seemed to be plotting.

Snape didn’t comment, he just stood there and watched.

By the end of the lesson, all the members had learned the spell and could perform it without a flaw. Laughing and talking, the members began to file out of the room leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville in there. Luna had wandered off somewhere.

Ginny and Ron kept glaring at each other as they all began to pick out books and scan them. For a minute all of them forgot Snape was still in there.

“Sometimes you forget there brother and sister, other times you wonder how the hell the live with each other.” Harry commented to Hermione as she poured over a book. “What are you doing? We’ve already got next lesson figured out.”

“I know...I’m just trying to figure it out a bit more.” Hermione commented.

“Ok,” Harry shrugged and turned around to see Snape still standing there. “Are you our watcher, sir?”

“Only on certain days.” Snape snarled. He didn’t seem pleased about that. “Can I have two of those coins? One for me and the other for McGonagall.” Hermione nodded, reached into her bag and pulled out two spare coins. Snape took them silently and left.

“Harry,” Ginny began. “Did Dumbledore ever find you? He was looking for you yesterday.” Harry nodded mutely.

“He was giving me a letter...from the Dursleys.” At this everyone looked up, interested. Sighing, Harry told them what was in the letter and instantly Ron jumped to his feet.

“Those damn muggles!” Ron hissed.

“Are you okay Harry?” Hermione asked and Harry shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Ron asked in disbelief. “They’re just stupid muggles, I’d be glad to get away from them.”

“I am,” Harry informed, smiling halfheartedly at Ron. Ginny stood up and made to leave.

“I’ve got to go, see you.” Ginny said, casting a sympathetic look at Harry.

“Bye,” Hermione called out. She looked back at Harry, but it was obvious that Harry didn’t want to talk on about it. So, they just spent an hour deciding how to go about their next DA meeting.

“Do you think...,” Neville began slowly after a while. “You know how they said Harry was safe...the muggles I mean. Voldemort gone and all...what about the other Death Eaters?”

Everyone froze, they had never thought about that.

“We shouldn’t worry about that...I’m sure the Order’s got that under control.” Hermione declared and the others nodded in agreement. “Dumbledore would tell us if we were in trouble, I’m sure of it.”

Harry watched quietly. He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t thought about the remaining Death Eaters, but from what he knew the ones that were free were the weak ones. They really didn’t need to worry. Just be aware.

The Friday before the Hogsmead Weekend found the DA members in the Room of Requirement with Snape sulking in a corner.

Next week was the final week before Christmas and for the past hour and a half the members had worked on reviewing spells and curses. After that, Harry, Ron and Hermione found himself slumped off to a side of the room as the rest of the members, sixth years that is, took up the challenge of helping the fifth years.

From time to time, one of the members would come over and sit with them and either leave or one of the trio would leave to go help. It was, what most would say, a very boring night.

“Harry do you have ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’?” Ron asked as Hermione looked up glaring

“You still haven’t bought yourself a new copy?” Hermione huffed and Ron shook his head. “Well, buy one this weekend at Hogsmead instead of all those dungbombs!”

“Dungbombs rule!” Ron whooped.

“Funny,” Harry commented causing the two, along with Ernie, who had joined him, to look over.

“What?” Hermione demanded.

“What you guys just said is exactly the same thing that’s written on the first page of my book!” Harry laughed as both Hermione and Ron dived to snatch it.

“Harry, give it here!” Hermione demanded as Harry leapt backwards, dancing out of their way. The others stopped to watch them.

“Don’t worry ‘Mione, it’s the only thing you’ve written in here. But Ron, I wish you’d stop writing Chudley Cannons all over my book.” Harry laughed, as Ron along with Ernie’s help tackled the Boy-Who-Lived to the ground.

Ron started to flip through the pages, as Hermione frowned disapprovingly. He kept nodding in agreement and laughing heartily.

“Honestly, boys,” Hermione whispered.

“Hey, Harry, here it is,” Ron laughed. “Written proof.”

“What? That anything Hagrid likes is the most dangerous animal...don’t think we need proof for that.” Almost everyone in the room nodded in agreement.

“No, the dunderhead, this...Harry loves Moaning Myrtle!” Instantly everyone was laughing.

“What?” Harry shouted and he dived forward, as Ron flashed the page it was written on toward Harry. “That doesn’t count! You wrote that!” Harry cried out as Ron fell back laughing.

“W-what was it she said in our second year?” Ron gasped, diving out of Harry’s reach. “Right after we got out of the Chamber of Secrets...oh yeah...she said that she was hoping if you died you’d share her toilet with her.”

“I remember that,” Ginny laughed, as everyone fell backwards howling, even Hermione. “I bet Lockheart even remembers that. Myrtle fancies you Harry...and she hasn’t stopped either. What’d you do?”

“You kidding me, Harry’s the only one who could get a ghost to fancy him.” Hermione howled.

“Well, it wasn’t like it was that bad of a thing...she helped me with the Triwizard Tournament of course she was spying on me in the bathroom...rather unnerving really and kind of creepy...” Harry trailed off at the new batch of laughter.

“Never told us that Harry, keeping secrets are we?” Ron taunted.

“Oh yeah, Ron, about your crush you had on the Grey Lady!” Ginny laughed causing Ron to blush.

“That doesn’t count, I wasn’t at Hogwarts yet and Fred and George didn’t tell me she was dead.” But everyone was laughing already. Hermione was flipping through Harry’s book. She tossed it to Ron when he motioned for it.

Pulling out a quill he flipped the book open to Centaurs and wrote several more ‘X’s by the danger level. “At least the Forbidden Forest ones are.” Ron laughed, passing the book to Ginny who motioned for it.

“The Grey Lady? Really?” Ernie laughed, causing Ron’s ears to boil. Everyone was sitting down now.

“C’mon, Ron, is that really you’re most embarrassing memory?” Hermione laughed.

“No, but second year holds most of them...like the Howler mum sent.” Everyone remembered that.

“Didn’t you fly that car in your second year?” Cho asked as Hermione pulled a dark look.

“Yeah...” Harry laughed, remembering that flight.

“Why?” asked Justin, intrigued.

“Did we ever find that out?” Ron asked Harry who nodded.

“Don’t you remember, I told you Dobby blocked the barrier from us. Didn’t want me going back to school.” Harry grinned happily. Hannah dropped a bag of sweets in front of everyone, blushing.

“Happy early Christmas,” she blushed. A chorus of thanks soared through the air.

“Anyway, I think Neville’s got the best memory ever.” Ron declared, popping a sweet into his mouth.

“No I don’t,” Neville said, flabbergasted.

“Harry you should send this book in, you could get all the mistakes fixed.” Ginny laughed, tossing the book to Harry, who glanced at it and tossed it away. “I mean, it should be known that Acromantula isn’t rare at all.” She laughed.

“Uggh...I don’t think people want to know about Aragog.” Ron said in disgust.

“Anyway, what’s Neville’s best memory?” Ernie asked as Harry shot Ron a wide grin.

“Hmm...one of two things really, either his Boggart in third year,” roars of laughter all of them forgetting the one they were laughing at was in the room with them. “Or when Lockheart let out all those pixies and they picked you by your ears.”

“I still can’t believe Lockheart did that,” Hermione said disapprovingly.

“What are you on about?” Ron demanded. “You fancied him!” Hermione blushed as all the boys laughed and all the girls mumbled something of the same lines. “Really? I rather date Parkinson then even think of Lockheart as anything but a sweltering big head.”

“Well, Lockheart is alive, unlike your two crushes, Harry and Ron.” At this more gales of laughter.

“Now, I don’t think Myrtle counts, because it was your fault I ever even talked to her.” Harry pointed out. “And anyway, I thought you didn’t like her because she laughed at when you turned...” Harry trailed off, but he was saved as Neville accidentally swallowed a candy that made him steam out the ears.

Everyone fell over laughing at this.

“Well, Harry’s worst moment...well there’s so many...how to begin.” Neville laughed causing Harry to growl.

“Was it first year...um...you know nothing bad happened in first year. Except Fluffy, and that’s not embarrassing.” Ron mused.

“Second year, now that was bad,” Hermione continued. “First the bookshop with Lockheart, Harry looked ready to kill the man. Then, Lockheart again. Mostly Harry’s problem in second year was Lockheart.”

“Third year,” Neville mused.

“Would have to be when that m—parchment insulted Snape.” Ron finished off, causing everyone to grin. That had spread quickly around the school.

“Don’t,” Harry warned, “even start on fourth year, because we’ll be here forever.”

“Well, we could just outline it.” Ron grinned darkly. “All and I mean all the articles by our one and only Rite Skeeter. Or...no has to be the articles. Maybe when Snape read them in class...oh man that was bad. Also, Myrtle spying on you in the bathroom.” Instantly everyone was howling in laughter again.

“Thanks,” said Harry dryly. “For summarizing all my embarrassing moments, I did need a reminder.” Instantly everyone laughed again. Glaring, Harry popped a sweat that made him roar like a tiger into his mouth.

Instantly Ginny popped one of Fred and George’s latest, which made you sound like a train and when you opened you mouth the illusion of a train came out happened. Harry just laughed; an odd sprouting tiger-roar laugh.

“Mr. Potter!” Snape’s voice suddenly rang through his head. Everyone froze, for they all had forgotten, including Hermione, that there was a professor in there with them and that it was indeed Snape.

“Yes...sir?” Harry asked, gulping down the tingly roar that wanted to arise.

“What do you mean I’ve never read this book?” he demanded causing Harry to look at him stupidly. He thrust the book under his nose and quite clearly in his own scrawl were the words, ‘Snape hasn’t read this either’, and it was right next to Kappa.

“When did he say it?” Harry asked Hermione who looked over his shoulder. “One Defense class, someone...was it you Hermione? Whoever. You said that Kappa was not Japanese or something along those lines.” Harry shrugged as everyone sucked in their breath. Snape’s eyes flashed and he looked back at the book, drawing into the shadows.

Harry turned around, slowly, and met Ron’s eyes.

“Myrtle, what a disgrace,” Ron tutted and instantly everyone started to laugh again. They talked on for a while, more careful about not mentioning Snape, and did what they had done to Harry, talked about their most embarrassing moments. Most moments Harry realized he had never even heard about.

“Ginny, you have anymore of those train candies from the twins, my brother would love those.” Ernie asked and Ginny shook her head.

“I do,” Harry said, remembering the package he got from the twins that morning.

“Great,” Ernie breathed as Harry dug in his pack for them. Glancing up he found Snape’s eyes on him.

“They aren’t illegal,” he informed, as he withdrew the package. “Flitch hasn’t found out about them yet.” Snape just raised an eyebrow and went back to the book. Harry had half a bag full and Ernie bought part of it.

“Thanks, you’re a life savior. Steve’s harder to buy gifts than my dad.” Ernie grinned stupidly as Harry shoved the rest of the treats back into the bag with Fred and George’s money.

“I’ve gotta go,” Justin suddenly cried out, jumping to his feet. “Bye,” he said as he dashed out of the room.

“Hey, Harry, stop putting your wand in your back pocket?” Hermione suddenly ordered as she noticed Harry’s wand there. Harry removed it with a dark grin.

“Alright Mother, or Mad-Eye Moody.” Harry informed, as Hermione glared.

“Harry,” Cho and Justin and Ernie were all leaving. Glancing over his shoulder he looked at Ernie. “I’m not sure it’ll be a good thing for you do to...asking Myrtle out.”

“Ernie!” Harry jumped to his feet and instantly Ron and Ginny grabbed him. Ernie dashed out of the room quickly. After that everyone filed out of the room, slowly and it appeared reluctantly.

Soon, it was only Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Neville.

“Will you be having a meeting next week?” Snape demanded from his usual spot in the shadows. Harry looked at Hermione who shrugged.

“No, Professor, I don’t think so.” Snape nodded and swept out of the room.

“He left with my book,” Harry pointed out as soon as he was gone.

“Really?” Ron asked in disbelief.

“Probably an accident,” Hermione commented and Harry shrugged.

“He’ll probably write comments over all my other comments.” Harry laughed. “So, what should we get the DA members, seeing as they’ve all been frequently giving us sweets?”

“I think...” Hermione began slowly. “We should get Snape something.” Everyone froze. Neville, Harry and Ron were all staring at her as if she were insane while Ginny seemed to think it might be a good idea.

“Are you mental?” Ron gasped in horror.

“No,” Ginny snapped before Hermione could speak. “Think of how much he’s helped us. First, he risked his life to help us in that fight against Voldemort, and then he’s helped us cope with it.”

No one spoke, but Harry found himself eyeing them all carefully.

“He has helped us, and it isn’t something you’d expect Snape to do.” Neville commented.

“How’s—how’s he helped?” Harry asked.

“Well, I—err—sought him out,” Ginny mumbled. “I needed to talk,” everyone nodded in agreement. “I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, maybe a detention or just him making snide insults, but he helped. Not in the way I expected, mostly in his own way.”

“Ginny told me she sought his help, and I did the same.” Hermione mumbled. “The nightmares have stopped.”

“He did it after he woke me up from my nightmare and sometimes stopped me in the hall.” Neville informed.

“I just walked into his office one day, after Ginny talked to me, and he just set back and listened.” Luna informed.

“Happened after I hit him with the snowball, he chewed me out for a good long time, and then he sat back, buried his head into his hands, and after about five minutes of that he asked if I was having nightmares.” Ron said sheepishly. “It did help.”

“Yeah,” everyone except Harry mumbled.

“Didn’t it help with you Harry?” Ginny asked and Harry shrugged.

“I’ve never talked about it with him, we don’t talk really. Just sort of work in silence.” Everyone stared at him as if he were insane.

“I-I thought you were getting help from him...that’s why I went. Figured if you could do it, then I could.” Ginny mumbled. “No wondered he seemed a bit surprise when I first went to him.”

“Really? You didn’t talk, but you seem so much more at ease lately.” Hermione commented and Harry shrugged.

“We didn’t talk, but the silence helped a bit I guess. And I’ve been carving more.” Ron, by sheer chance, had stumbled upon Harry carving Ginny’s box and now they all knew.

“Well, you should try talking too,” Ginny said confidently. Neville nodded in agreement. “Anyway, I think it’s a great idea to get him something.”

“All together,” Ron suggested hopefully.

“No, separately. He’s helped too much that buying one all together would be a bit tactful.” Hermione declared, obviously having put some thought into it.

“Well, when he comes after us to kill us, we’ll stand behind you.” Ron commented snidely. “You know as well as I do, he’ll kill us!”

“Yes, but you’re a Quidditch player, you should be able to run.” Hermione said sarcastically. At that, everyone leaned back in thought.

Harry hadn’t told them about what Snape had done over the summer; he figured Snape would hate it if he did that. But Hermione was right, Snape had done a lot. In a way, he had helped Harry more then the others.

Since first year, even though he instantly hated Harry, Snape still helped him. He did Occlumency lessons too but that hadn’t turned out well. Yet, all this year, after Voldemort’s defeat, he had helped, even if Harry hadn’t spoken to him like the others, Snape was still there for him in a way. Mostly, he just kept Harry company.

In a way, Harry felt he owed Snape more then just an average gift, but what?

“This,” Ron said voicing Harry’s thoughts. “Is going to be bloody impossible.”

888

Hogsmead was crowded and it was snowing heavily. Harry and others found themselves trooping up to Hogsmead with more than one mission. One was to find a gift for each other and the other was to find one for Snape. The latter was going to be the hardest.

“We should split up,” Hermione called out over the gale.

“She’s right, how are we going to buy gifts for each other when we’re around each other?” Ginny asked, grinning through the snow.

“Alright,” Ron called out, detouring in the other direction.

“Meet at Three Broomsticks in two hours,” Harry suggested and they all nodded before breaking up.

Harry found himself going straight to the bookshop where he knew he could get Hermione’s gift. Rolling his fingers over books binds, Harry found himself trying to find two gifts, one for Hermione and the other for Snape. Snape would probably enjoy a book on something or another.

However, to his surprise, he found himself finding Ron’s present there. A special volume on the Chudley Cannons. It was their twenty-fifth anniversary. There were three thick volumes, and Harry bought one, while imploring to the manager that he keep the other two hidden. The man didn’t seem to mind, since no one wanted to buy them anyway.

Two hours wasn’t enough time, Harry decided as he trooped toward Three Broomsticks. He had gotten gifts for everyone and the most he could find for Snape were some sweets from Honeydukes. They were the only sweets Harry had ever seen Snape eat and actually enjoy.

They were sour black droplets that looked like water and they made your eyes completely black. But Harry knew that wasn’t nearly good enough as a present.

He found the others sitting at a back table in the pub. Sitting down with them, he found that they all looked relieved.

“Did you find one for him Harry?” Ginny asked as soon as Harry sat down.

“Err—no, I’ll look in some catalogs when I get back to school. Did you guys?” Harry asked and they all nodded. Ron explained how he found his by complete accident while Hermione informed them that she talked to the owner of the bookstore. Luna and Ginny needed up meeting each other in some shop Harry had never bothered to enter and there they found their gifts.

Neville said he found his by sheer luck, much like Ron, and he found it seconds before he came to Three Broomsticks. Harry suddenly felt stupid. They all had gotten Snape gifts, and he, the one that probably owed Snape the most, had only gotten him some Black Eyed Droplets. Even Ron had managed to get Snape a gift.

After a while, they left the pub and made their way back to Hogwarts, joining swarms of students on the path. Once back at school, the six of them broke off from the others and slumped down in front of a random portrait on an empty corridor.

“Who’s going home for the Holidays?” Luna asked and everyone but Harry rose their hands.

“You could come back to the Burrow, I’m sure of it.” Ron and Ginny chanted in unison. But they also knew it wasn’t possible. The whole Weasley family, including Percy who had apologized sometime after Voldemort’s defeat, were going to be there and the Burrow couldn’t manage someone else.

“It’s okay, really,” Harry insisted. “Just think of it this way, when Snape finds out we got him presents, I’ll be killed first and you’ll be warned.” Harry laughed but Hermione and Ron were frowning doubtfully. “Really, it’s okay.”

Later that night, Harry found himself pouring over some catalogs but was getting nowhere in his search.

“This,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair. “Is an impossible gift search.”

“Don’t worry mate, you’ll find something.” Ron remarked as he glanced up from his Charms book. Harry nodded slightly.

He sure hoped so.

Harry was standing in the Entrance Hall seeing off Ginny, Neville and Luna. He had his shoulder buried into one side of large oak doors, his shabby winter cloak wrapped tightly around him.

“Can’t believe you’re leaving me alone with those two!” Ginny hissed darkly, nudging Harry in the ribs harshly. “You’ll pay.” Ahead of them Neville and Luna were already engulfed in each other.

“Yes, two knuts.” Harry laughed as Ginny huffed out and walked out in the snow. Harry watched her walk away sadly. He didn’t want to spend the holidays by himself, especially since there were only a round of two others, Harry didn’t know who, that were staying behind.

After a while he realized that Ron and Hermione had yet to walk by to leave. All the other students had already walked by. Turning he saw them walking down the marble stairs quite slowly.

“Well, I know you guys have a tendency to like running late, but this is pushing it.” Harry commented turning around and smirking.

“We’re not leaving,” Hermione said pointedly.

“What?” Harry asked in shock. Professor Snape and Dumbledore were walking down the stairs behind them but they hadn’t noticed.

“Harry,” Hermione began in a patronizing tone, “do you really think we’d just leave you here over the holidays?”

“What about your families?” Harry asked.

“You’re kidding me, right? As soon as mum found out you were staying, she more or less ordered me to stay here too.” Ron laughed and Harry grinned stupidly. “Let’s play some Exploding Snap,” Ron suggested and Hermione nodded along with Harry.

Reaching into his robes, he pulled out the game and just sat down. Harry gaped at him as did Hermione. “Ronald! What do you think you’re doing?” Hermione demanded.

“Playing Exploding Snap,” Ron laughed.

“In the Entrance Hall?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Well? Why not? I don’t want to go back to the Common Room just yet and we’re here, aren’t we?” Ron demanded and Harry shrugged.

“Alright,” Harry said, sitting across from Ron. Dumbledore and Snape had stopped on the stairs and were staring. “C’mon Herm, how many times will you be able to say you played Exploding Snap in the Entrance Hall?”

“Well I never wanted to say that I had, but I guess it’ll have to do. Honestly, can’t we move it into the Great Hall?” Ron shook his head as Hermione sat down. He already had the game set up.

“Yes, the Great Hall would make more sense then the Entrance Hall,” Snape’s voice suddenly cut through them. Ron flinched, Hermione sighed, and Harry smiled stupidly.

“Now, Professor Snape, I think it’s an okay idea. Actually, I’ve found myself wanting to do the same thing on several occasions.”

“What?” Snape asked in horror. “Play Exploding Snap in the Entrance Hall?”

“No, just wanted to play Exploding Snap.” Dumbledore waved his hand and a table, along with several comfy chairs appeared in the Entrance Hall. Ron and Harry instantly scrambled into their seats and began to set up the game again. Dumbledore sat down next to Hermione and looked at Snape. “Will you join us, Severus?”

“No!” Snape snarled, before spinning around causing his robes to billow out.

To say the next couple hours weren’t interesting would be a lie. Ron had admitted that playing Exploding Snap in the Entrance Hall had only been a joke to play on Hermione, seeing as she would seriously disapprove, he hadn’t actually expected it to go as far as to actually playing the game.

But not only were they playing Exploding Snap in the Entrance Hall with the Headmaster, but as time progressed more professors joined them. They were only staying one night in the school before going to their home. All in all, Harry realized that with the professors that were leaving, only Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey, Trelawney, and Sprout were staying behind.

“What are you doing?” McGonagall demanded when she walked into the Entrance Hall to find not only the trio playing Exploding Snap, but Dumbledore, Hagrid , Vector, Gary, and Sprout all playing too.

“The most random thing our Mr. Weasley could think of at the moment,” Dumbledore laughed as Ron flushed red. Harry rolled his eyes and ducked as the game exploded. Hermione frowned. She kept losing. “Care to join?”

“Fine,” McGonagall said, sitting herself between Gary and Sprout. It was surprising but Gary seemed quite keen when playing Exploding Snape and it was a game on skill, hand and eye coordination, and speed. Not something one would take bumbling Professor Gary to have.

McGonagall turned out to be quite fierce when it came to Exploding Snap and soon it was between Ron and McGonagall on who would have the skill of winning. In the end it was Ron, by a pure chance of speed, and the game exploded in McGonagall’s face. Dumbledore chuckled merrily.

Harry had the suspicion that this was something the old man had been wanting to have happen for a long time.

Finally, Snape came storming into the Entrance Hall, a scowl on place. “Albus, I can’t believe you’re still doing this stunt. It’s almost an hour passed dinner.” Snape snarled and Dumbledore chuckled.

“My, it is isn’t it?” Harry had the feeling Dumbledore already knew this. The man just had far too much free time to scheme things. “Well, we’ll just eat here.” With a wave of his hand, the food that was meant to arise in the Great Hall appeared with a pop on the table in the Entrance Hall.

“Well, this really is taking it too far,” Hermione grumbled as Snape was forced to sit down and eat. Harry nodded. This was starting to seem a bit odd. And you didn’t get odd things in the Wizarding World too much. But he had to admit, this was going to be one tale to tell.

Dinner was a loud affair, as the Professors all talked with each other about everything and anything. Ron and Harry fell into a conversation about Weasleys Wizard Wheezes while Hermione chatted about some incident in history with Professor Vector.

Finally, the food was gone and Dumbledore smiled around the table.

“I do believe this should conclude our afternoon of Exploding Snap in the Entrance Hall. If I ever find the time,” his eyes darted to Harry making the boy almost think he had read his thoughts. “I’ll be sure to record this for ‘Hogwarts: A History’ seeing as I doubt that anyone had ever played Exploding Snap in the Entrance Hall for such a long time.”

Standing up, everyone laughed and the table and chairs disappeared. Snape glowered and whisked away quickly.

“Really!” Ron laughed as they retreated back to Gryffindor Tower. It was odd being the only students in the castle. “I had only meant it as a joke. That was totally unexpected.”

“Well, we made history,” Hermione commented dryly.

“Hermione, I think we’ve all made history since our first year. I highly doubt playing Exploding Snap in the Entrance Hall will be the greatest thing.” Harry laughed and Ron raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe we’ll be surprised,” Ron chuckled.

They sat in the Common Room after that, in a comfortable silence. Harry was more then overjoyed that Hermione and Ron had stayed over the break and he knew Ron’s excuse was probably a bit of an exaggeration. He really did have caring friends.

In Harry’s lap he had the book for carving. He had carved Ginny’s name into the inside of her box and completely messed it up. He needed to figure out how to erase it from the wood. Letters were different then pictures.

And so began the Christmas holidays.

888

It was Christmas Eve and Harry had yet to get Snape a gift. Harry was more or less panicking as he poured over a catalog. Beside him Ron and Hermione were wrapping gifts. They could’ve done it with magic but Hermione insisted on teaching Ron to do it the muggle way.

Hermione had a thick book, a potion book for Snape, flopped before her. According to her, it was a rare book that the manager had just gotten. It was written by a Norwegian Potions Masters from the middle ages and it had just been translated to English.

She said it would’ve cost a fare deal but the owner of the store recognized her as one of the ‘saving seven’ and when she told him the purpose he more or less deduced the price in half. She smiled a bit guilty as she spoke, but she said later that sometimes you just had to do it. Pull out the ‘excuse’ that is.

Ron had gotten Snape an odd little cauldron that could sit in the palm of one’s hand. It looked pretty useless but Hermione knew all about them. Those small cauldrons could hold up to five gallons of potions and barely weigh a thing. Plus, it was easily transportable and made a better convenience then bottling the whole potion. They were rare. Ron admitted that he bargained with the owner of the shop for it too.

Neville had been too embarrassed to show Harry what he gotten Snape, and he forget to ask Luna. Ginny on the other hand showed him her without a problem. It was a record book, one that if you cast a spell, the one explained at the beginning of the book, then it would record all the ingredients in that storeroom. When some where taken it would say why and how much. Those were rare too, but Ginny didn’t have to bargain. The owner didn’t know what it was.

“You know,” Harry remembered saying. “Now we can’t swipe ingredients without him knowing why they were swiped. And knowing Snape he’ll figure out who was making the potion.”

Ginny had just grinned and shoved it into her pack.

“Harry,” Hermione suddenly said interrupting his thoughts. “You really should hurry.”

“I know!” Harry moaned as he dug his head into his hands.

Ron was pouring over the carving book. “Neat!” he called out. “This spell erases carvings in wood, cement, carpet and stone.”

“Stone?” Harry suddenly asked, looking up quickly.

“Yeah,” Ron said, shoving the book over to Harry.

“I know!” Harry suddenly called out and he jumped to his feet. He sprinted upstairs, grabbed his invisibility cloak, threw it over his shoulders, and ran back downstairs.

“Going out are we?” Ron asked as Harry’s head floated downstairs.

“Yeah, be right back.” Flipping the cloak over his head, Harry took off running. He ran to the dungeon quickly, not meeting a soul in the corridors. Then again, there was no one in the school.

Harry only slowed down once he was in front of the Potions classroom. He listened closely and heard no sign of Snape. Smiling, he pushed open the door and snuck in. He kept his cloak on in case he tripped some alarming spell Snape had set up so he knew when people broke into his classroom.

After several minutes of no cursing Snape appearing, Harry realized he was safe.

Sighing, he retreated to the cauldron wall at the back of the classroom and shifted the cauldrons until he found the plaque. He remembered during a Remedial lesson one day Snape had told him to get a cauldron and he grabbed the one concealing the plaque.

“Why don’t you get rid of it?” Harry had asked.

“Don’t know how,” Snape snarled, obviously not wanting to stray into that area. Harry could tell it was just putting salt into the open wound whenever the plaque was mention. But Harry had figured out how to get rid of the plaque...no not great rid of, change.

It took hours to do. Obviously whoever charmed it knew what they were doing. Harry had the feeling it might’ve been his father or Sirius.

Harry had to charm each letter in turn, and then with a lot of effort, dragged it around until it was the letter he wanted. He found joining two letters together took of more area and got rid of the words faster. Yet, it still took a good two hours for him to get it done.

In reality, Harry didn’t realize that he was breaking through more then just a carving charm, he was breaking through some holding charms and some school-wall charms. That was why he had to drag his wand. It was just lucky he didn’t pass out from the effort.

However, Snivellus’s plaque was gone and was replaced with a plaque that read:

Professor Severus Snape,
The Potions Master
Of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry H.P.

Harry smiled slightly to himself as he reread it.

Jumping up, he grabbed his invisibility cloak, but instead of putting the cauldron back up he left it down. Working his arm forward and backward, he dived from the room and back to the Tower.

Ron and Hermione were waiting up for him.

“Where’d you go?” Ron demanded as Harry stumbled in.

“Just to take care of some things.” He glanced at the clock and saw it was almost midnight. Ron shrugged, leaned over and wrapped his last present the wizard way.

“Let’s go to bed,” Hermione yawned and Ron nodded in agreement.

“Best get one night’s sleep before Snape kills us,” Ron teased as he threw the gifts in the Christmas Gift Transportation pile.

“Agreed,” Harry yawned, as he reached over, grabbed Snape’s candy and scribbled a note for him to look on the back wall of the Potions classroom. “If he doesn’t kill me for this,” Harry muttered softly to himself. “Who knows what he’ll kill.”

“What about Snape’s gift, Harry?” Hermione asked at the base of the stairs leading to her dormitory.

“Don’t worry,” Harry yawned waving a hand at her offhandedly. Hermione shot him a quizzing look before shrugging and going to bed.

“Yeah, let’s just hope I get some use out of my presents before Snape kills us.” Ron yawned climbing into bed. Harry nodded in agreement.

888

The next morning Harry woke up to Ron throwing his pillow at him.

“C’mon mate! It’s Christmas!” Ron laughed and Harry sat up to look at his pile of presents on the end of the bed. Ron made to open his.

“No,” Harry gasped, and in a hurried movement he gathered his presents into him and with Ron, catching on, they ran together into the Common Room where they dumped them onto an armchair each.

“Hermione!” Ron called out. “Bring your presents down here!” There was a long paused and Hermione appeared walking down the stairs carrying a bundle of presents.

“Happy Christmas,” she greeted happily.

“Happy Christmas,” Ron and Harry chanted in unison before diving into their presents.

Harry more or less got the basics as he had all the years before. He got a deep bottle green sweater from Mrs. Weasley that had a H.P. knitted into it, and a box of sweats. The twins had given him a box of tricks for thanks with helping with the company. While the DA members had gotten together and bought him a box of Honeydukes treats. He sighed when he realized that there were no sugar quills. He loved those the most though no one seemed to know that.

Hermione got him a great book on Quidditch, a rare volume that would have some collectors drooling to get. Ron had gotten him a cloak signed by the England Quidditch team. He had obviously used the ‘excuse’ to get it signed.

Ginny had gotten him a book on carving techniques that were brilliant and old looking. Luna had just gotten him a box of chocolate frogs and a year subscription to The Quibbler. Neville stuck to the basics with Quidditch.

“Brilliant Harry!” Both Ron and Hermione chanted at the same time. Hermione was holding the box Harry had carved for her with tearing eyes and Ron was holding the Chudley Cannon book and more or less drooling.

The carved book for Hermione had the time when he and her were flying on Buckbeak to go save Sirius in their third year. It had been hard to carve and he had started over around four times, until the last time when he thought it was decent. Inside the box was the official guide to the Protection of Magical Creatures Bureau. Harry had asked Mr. Weasley to get him one.

“Oh, Harry, it’s so beautiful.” Hermione more or less cried while Ron became absorbed in the Cannon book. Harry could almost see Ginny’s reaction to the wooden box. He had started over on Ginny’s more then Hermione’s until he got the hang of it. Inside the box was a small, charmed dragon Harry had bought at Hogsmead. He had scribbled on some parchment saying: Tame this one and we might allow you to move onto bigger ones.

“Thanks, both of you!” Harry said turning back to the presents they gave him. For the rest of the morning the spent their time messing with their gifts. Ron mostly in his Cannon book, Harry mostly in his Quidditch book, and Hermione mostly in her Guide.

“Oh, dear, we’re going to be late for the Christmas Dinner.” Hermione gasped. “No, we are late.”

“Oh well, at least Snape can’t kill us up here,” Ron commented. All of them had started to feel a bit foreboding now that Snape had gotten his gifts. It was one thing, talking about it, but a completely other thing doing it.

Harry even felt more worried than Ron because Harry’s note was a bit more personal. He shuddered at the thought. He hoped he lived to see seventh year.

Finally, after just leaving their things where they were, the trio ran from the common room. As the slide into the Great Hall the found the house tables gone, as they had been in third year, and a small table crowded with professors. There were only three seats left open. All next to each, but the outer ones were next to Trelawney and Madame Pomfrey.

“Ahh...Happy Christmas,” Dumbledore said as they entered. Instantly Harry, Ron and Hermione scrambled for the seats farthest from Trelawney. In the end, Harry was stuck next to her.

“Happy Christmas,” they all gasped in unison.

Dumbledore beamed and clapped his hands together so that food appeared. Harry glanced warily at Snape, but he was buried in his food and didn’t look up. Ron must’ve done the same because he sighed a bit in relief. At least Snape wouldn’t kill them at the table.

“So...did you get any good presents?” Dumbledore asked, trying to bring conversation to the table. Harry rolled his shoulder back and forth, trying to loosen it up. It had been stiff and sore all morning because of last night and the two hours of pushing, dragging and prodding the wand along.

“Yeah!” They all gasped in unison.

“Where’d you get that book anyway, Harry?” Ron demanded as Dumbledore turned to Madame Pomfrey.

“Bookstore,” Harry responded. “At Hogsmead, I had the owner hide the other two so you wouldn’t find ‘em.” Hermione snorted and Ron flushed.

“My dear,” Trelawney’s voice suddenly said, cutting through Harry. Turning he found the Divinations professor staring at him.

“I know, I know...I’m going to die soon,” Harry sighed as Hermione snorted. “But don’t worry; I’ve decided to avoid all murdering fiends in Hogwarts at the moment, so I should survive a bit longer.” McGonagall’s lips twitched, Ron snorted, and Hermione looked ready to burst.

“You shouldn’t mock what the inner eye says,” Trelawney said sternly. “Yes, you’ve predicted my words, but I was also going to say that you’re area of aura is very foggy.”

“I told you Ron!” Harry snapped, turning to Ron. “We didn’t perform the fog spell right!” Instantly McGonagall snorted, Hermione burst out laughing and Ron began to choke on his food. Professor Trelawney looked put out and turned away from Harry darkly.

“I think I angered her,” Harry whispered to Ron as the conversation around the table picked up. Ron just nodded again as Hermione snorted.

“Now, I do tend to find this room in the dungeons, but it’s the oddest thing. I can’t enter it, and it looks like it’s about to collapse in on itself.” Dumbledore tutted slightly. “Travels behind a solid black portrait I do believe.” Dumbledore sighed. “This castle never ceases to amaze me.”

After that everyone started talking about secret rooms they had found on accident. Ron and Hermione, being Prefects and wondering the castle more, had several hidden rooms that constantly move too.

Finally, dinner ebbed away and Ron was becoming restless to get back to the Common Room. Harry, leaning back in his chair, glanced to his side at Trelawney and snorted.

The Divinations teacher seemed to have dozed off in the middle of an inner eye’s trances and was now drooling and snoring.

“Err—Professor?” Harry ventured, looking at McGonagall.

“Yes?” she asked, looking over.

“I think Trelawney’s fallen asleep...no, she has fallen asleep.” Everyone turned to look at the sleeping teacher.

“Well, I guess I’ll take her to her rooms,” McGonagall sighed but Madame Pomfrey intervened.

“No, Minerva, take her to the Hospital Wing, she hasn’t had a check-up in a while.” Madame Pomfrey almost seemed devilish as she spoke. McGonagall nodded, and standing up the two levitated her out of the Great Hall. Leaving on Dumbledore, Snape, Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“Well, I guess that concludes our dinner. Happy Christmas, everyone.” Dumbledore stood up, nodded in turn to everyone and swept out of the room. Harry, Ron and Hermione, not wanting to be left alone in a room with Snape instantly dived from their seats and left.

Back in the Common Room, they started to mess with their presents again.

“At least Snape hasn’t tried to kill us yet,” Ron yawned as Harry stood up. “If you leave though, he might corner you.”

“Yeah, I’ll take my chances; I just want to give Dobby his present in person.” Ron nodded and Hermione beamed.

“That’s great,” she cried out.

“I’m not going with you, though. Dobby’s a bit too mental for me when you give him presents. Good luck though.” Ron grinned stupidly and Harry laughed as he left.

The trip to the Kitchens was quiet and long. Harry decided he didn’t like the castle much when there weren’t students running around and making bangs and booms. Though, he was sad to find he would leave Hogwarts in a year and a half.

Finally, however, he made it to the Kitchens. Instantly House Elves swarmed him with shouts and questions to what he wanted.

“Err—is Dobby here?” Harry asked and instantly Dobby appeared.

“Harry Potter requests Dobby sir.” Dobby cried out, his eyes overlarge.

“Yeah, I wanted to give you your Christmas gift in person.” Instantly Dobby began to cry. “No, don’t do that, Dobby. It’s okay, really.” Harry sighed as he handed Dobby a crudely wrapped package.

“Harry Potter is too good to little Dobby. Too good indeed.” Dobby cried as he opened the package and found a set of mismatched socks, gloves, and a small hat. However, it was inside a box Harry had carved. On the front was a carving of Dobby, wearing a stack of Hermione’s hats and mismatched socks. Ron had laughed when he saw that carving and Hermione beamed.

Instantly Dobby began to howl. Harry had to fight the House Elf off of him as he hugged him tightly.

“Harry Potter is too good,” Dobby started to cry so hard that he collapsed. Instantly other House Elves swarmed in.

“Is he okay?” Harry asked in horror.

“Oh, yes, Dobby is just crying, sir, crying a whole lot. Master Sir, do you want anything?” the small brown House Elf asked and Harry shook his head.

“I’ll just get going then,” Harry said and the House Elves nodded. Once in the corridor, Harry could still hear Dobby’s wails. “Great, now I’ve gone and done it, he’ll try to save my life again.” Harry mumbled, turning around and walking straight into something quite solid.

Stumbling backwards, Harry landed hard on the ground and found himself looking upward at Professor Snape. His heart instantly flipped.

‘Ron’s right,’ Harry thought. ‘He’s going to kill me.’ And it did look like Professor Snape was going to kill him.

“How’d you do it Potter?” Snape spat darkly.

“What?” Harry asked innocently.

“Get rid of that plaque?” Snape didn’t seem at all pleased.

“W-why? I figured you’d want it gone.” Harry mumbled, backing up some.

“Did you get Granger’s help?” he demanded, taking a step forward and suddenly Harry understood. To get outside help, Harry would’ve had to explain or let them draw their own conclusions.

“No, I swear,” Harry said. “I didn’t get any help from my friends. I had a book, you see, and it was on erasing carvings because I’ve been working on something, and it said it worked on stone.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that you just used an erasing charm on the stone wall, Potter?” Snape hissed darkly, stepping even closer. “Because Black and your father put several strong spells on it, not even I could break today, and then there’s the school-wall spells.”

“I couldn’t just tap it...” Harry admitted. “I had to drag my wand. I swear I didn’t get any outside help. It took me two hours,” Harry rolled his shoulder back and forth a bit. Snape’s eyes bore their way into Harry’s bright green eyes and for a minute it stayed like that.

Finally, Snape broke eye contact, reached down and heaved Harry to his feet. Harry winced a bit as he landed on his trick leg. It had been bothering him for a while now. Actually since the Quidditch game, but Harry didn’t want to admit it.

Dobby had stopped wailing.

“Sir,” Harry nodded and made to go when suddenly Snape’s hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Thanks, Mr. Potter, you don’t realize how much it means to have that plaque gone.” Harry nodded slightly, glanced at Snape and for the first time saw that the man was grateful.

“I owe you more than that,” Harry mumbled and then before Snape could say anything, Harry left.

Once he was back in the Common Room, Ron and Hermione looked up.

“You missed it,” Ron said. “Snape walked in and gave us three boxes. Mine had a bunch of candy in it, along some potions that’ll help...with my nightmares...and a Magic Reversal booklet.”

“I’m had some candy also, some Protection of Magical Creatures things, and a book on defense against the dark art spells. He just walked right in and gave them to us, without a blink, and his face was blank. Barely mumbled thanks and left. A very Snape action, in a case like this.”

“Open yours,” Ron demanded and Harry did. In his box was a booklet on Aurors, which disappointed Harry a bit, and then a bunch of Sugar Quills, and then there was his Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them book.

The note read thus:

Dear Mr. Potter:

By time you read this, you will have either explained yourself and lived, or reading this while in a lot of pain. ‘That’s Snape for you, Harry thought.’ I know, even if you friends don’t seem to notice, that you love Sugar Quills, don’t see why though. And you will find that in your Beast Book, I’ve made some of my own comments that will help you in up coming Care of Magical Creatures classes, trust me.

Happy Christmas, Mr. Potter.

Professor Severus Snape

“What did you get him Harry?” Hermione asked as she read the letter. “I didn’t know you like Sugar Quills; I guess that would explain why you’re always swapping for them.” Ron laughed as he read the letter too.

“What’d you get him?” Ron asked.

“Let’s just say I found something he didn’t like and couldn’t get rid of, and I did it for him.” Hermione stared at him long and hard and then decided Harry meant it so she didn’t respond. Ron just shrugged, realizing he was going to get nothing out of Harry anyway.

“I’m going to bed; I’m tired, and a bit shocked from Snape’s behavior.” Ron laughed slightly but bid them goodnight.

“Thank-you Harry, for the book, and helping me decide to be part of the Protection.” Harry nodded and blushed as Hermione gave him a tight hug and kiss on the cheek. Then, she went up to bed.

Harry found himself grabbing the Auror booklet and staring at it. Sighing, he opened it up and found to his surprise it wasn’t an Auror booklet at all. A piece of parchment stumbled out.

Not always good to expect things, Potter. S.S.

“How’d he find out?” Harry muttered as he began to flip the pages of the booklet for Curse Breaking at Gringotts bank. “This is one hell of an unexpected Christmas.”

Harry found himself two days later sitting at the table in the Great Hall. Dumbledore hadn’t bothered to replace the house tables and just let the small one stay there.

Ron and Hermione had been given the chance to go home to their parents for a day. Harry had felt bad that they had stayed behind and mentioned, in a conversation with McGonagall, about Ron and Hermione staying for the holidays for him. She must’ve caught the hint and offered them a day and a night trip home by floo powder.

So, Harry found himself sitting by himself during lunch. In front of him he had Ginny’s carving book and was slowly eating a sandwich as he read. To say he wasn’t bored would’ve been a lie.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and in stalked a teacher. Harry barely glanced up, he could tell Snape’s swagger anywhere. Snape didn’t say anything; he just sat down and started to make his sandwich.

“Mr. Potter...” Snape’s voice suddenly said. Harry, his movements’ automatic, reached over, grabbed the mustard and passed it to him. “How do you know I was going to ask for that?”

“Only thing not near you that you add to your sandwich.” Harry commented as he flipped the page.

“Hmm...” Snape said as he finished making his sandwich. Nothing was said after that. After a while, Harry found himself no longer reading but just staring blankly at the page before him.

Harry’s mind wasn’t really thinking of anything but kind of distracted.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape suddenly said. “You’re either having a very hard time of reading or you’re just staring at a page.” Harry shook his head a bit and looked around.

“Err—just staring at the page I guess.” Harry mumbled and Snape raised an eyebrow. Sighing, Harry slammed the book shut and sat back.

Snape stared at him for a couple of minutes before shaking his head a bit and looking around. “You’re causing me to go mental Potter.” He snarled and with a wave of his wand the food disappeared from their area. He then accio- ed a Wizard Chess set.

“I’m warning you, sir, I’m horrible at chess.” Harry commented as Snape set up the board.

“Yes, well, if you’re as good as Chess as you are in Potions, I’m sure you are.” Snape said snidely and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“And here I thought I was getting better at Potions.” Harry commented sarcastically.

“Yes, well, should that come to someone’s attention...,” Snape trailed off, rolling his eyes. Harry smirked slightly and moved his chess piece.

There was no doubt to who was better in the game, but it was obvious that Snape was taking it slowly in beating Harry because the game lasted a while. Professors walked in to eat lunch and to say their surprise at seeing Harry and Snape playing chess was anything from shocked to the conclusion that Harry or Snape might be under the imperious cruse.

McGonagall was clearly shocked the most while Dumbledore just walked in and smiled with a bright twinkle in his eye.

Finally, the game was over and Snape was the victor.

“See,” Harry said as he sat back and saw just how dismal the defeat was.

“Well, considering your partner is usually Mr. Weasley, an obviously skilled player, and I was your partner today, who usually plays Dumbledore, I’d have to say you just don’t have partners on your level.” Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Come, let’s play again, and I’ll help you with your strategy.”

He set up the board again. “Don’t look at me like that Potter, I know very well that I’m going mental, or as Mr. Weasley might say, off my rocker.” Harry looked closer at Snape and was surprised to find the man was somewhat smirking, and not in his usual cold way.

“Alright, but I warn you. I’m not quick with this stuff,” Harry chuckled and Snape rolled his eyes again. Something Harry wasn’t use to seeing the man do.

“Can beat the Dark Lord, but you can’t figure out Wizard Chess. That’s irony for you.” Snape snarled.

“I did it all on luck, sir, not strategy.” Harry commented dryly and Snape glanced up quickly. “Don’t deny it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he looked like he wanted to say something more but decided against it. Harry didn’t comment and for the next hour Snape helped Harry with his chess skill and by the end of the game, Harry had improved a bit though Snape still creamed him.

Before either of them could decide if they wanted to play another game or pretend that this had never happened, the doors leading to the Great Hall burst open and in trooped Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, and Dumbledore.

Kingsley had a large book under his right arm which looked strangely like a photo album.

“Ahh...good you’re here Potter.” Moody said as his magical eye swiveled onto him. Then it darted to Snape and then the chess set in between them. If Moody was surprised he didn’t show it.

“You were looking for me?” Harry asked, bemused. His gaze landing on Lupin. He hadn’t seen the man for a while and looking at him caused an odd pang of guilt. Sirius had been Lupin’s friend too.

“Yes,” said Kingsley. “Do you happen to remember Number Nine Privet Drive, Mr. Potter?” he asked and Harry raised an eyebrow. “As in who lived there?”

“Some odd lady,” Harry said clearly confused. “No wait, I remember Aunt Petunia saying something about her leaving for France, and a new guy moving in. Mr. Jenkins or somethin’. Why?”

“Harry, there are a lot of un-marked Death Eaters; Voldemort had decided not to mark all his followers when he rose again. Not until later that is.” Dumbledore informed and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that got to do with Number Nine?” he asked as Kingsley shifted the book in front of Harry.

“We fear one of the un-marked Death Eaters might be living there.” Lupin informed. “Did you ever see this Mr. Jenkins?”

“Erm—I really couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know my neighbors names.” Harry muttered sheepishly.

“Really?” asked Kingsley.

“Yeah, they were afraid of me.” Harry chuckled a bit and Tonks looked intrigued.

“Why?”

“Once I got accepted to Hogwarts, Uncle Vernon spread the rumor that I attended St. Brutus’s School for Incurably Criminal Boys.” Tonks started to laugh, Lupin shook his head, and Moody growled. Harry didn’t dare glance at Snape.

“Yes, well, look through those pictures, Potter, and tell us if you recognize any of them.” Moody ordered.

“Why does it matter?” Harry asked. “I’ve never seen him; from Aunt Petunia’s words he never left the house.”

“He could be a danger to you Potter. Being so close to the Dursleys.” Moody growled and Harry raised an eyebrow. Glancing sideways, he looked to Dumbledore whose face was grave.

Not wanting to comment, Harry flipped open the photo album and looked through. The pages were lined with blinking pictures and underneath there were their names, where they lived or if they were missing or dead. Several were dead.

Harry was trying hard to concentrate on the pictures, not wanting to meet Lupin’s questioning gaze. Harry hadn’t told anyone beyond Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna about being kicked out. He knew Lupin’s feelings would be hurt, but Harry just found he couldn’t tell the man.

“What’s happened with the Dursleys?” Moody demanded as Harry flipped the page again.

“Vernon Dursley requested that Harry never return after he discovered Voldemort was dead and Harry really didn’t need the blood protection anymore.” Harry’s ears were burning as Dumbledore explained what happened.

“What?” Lupin and Tonks cried out at the same time.

“He has to go back!” Lupin declared. “There’s still Death Eaters roaming, especially the un-marked ones.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Dumbledore said gravely. “By requesting that Harry never return, Petunia Dursley broke the blood protection. And anyway, judging from our reports, there’s only a total of ten roaming marked and un- marked Death Eaters.”

“How long has this been?” Lupin asked, his eyes turning to Harry who was staring blankly at a picture. Beneath the picture was an address that was completely opposite of Privet Dr. Next to that picture was one of his brother, who was missing.

“A month now, I do believe.” Dumbledore informed causing Harry to lean even farther forward in embarrassment. The picture of a gangly man with speckling grey hair and deep blue eyes stared back at him. The picture of his brother was older, greyer hair, but the eyes were brown with odd speckles of white in them. Harry had seen the same style of eyes on other people.

Only people who had been submitted to the cruticus curse for long bouts of time had those eyes. Neville’s parents had the same type of eyes. Harry shifted his gaze back to his brother’s picture.

He seemed familiar.

“Harry,” Lupin began and Harry glanced up. Their eyes locked and Harry instantly saw Lupin was a bit hurt with him not telling him about the Dursleys.

“I think this guy might be Mr. Jenkins...I remember running into him one day.” Harry commented pointing to the brother’s picture. The name said Lincoln Jones. His brother was Sebastian Jones. “I know it says he lives on the opposite side of England, but I recognize the eyes and the nose. Especially the nose. He was right up in my face and his nose looks like something tried to pull it off.”

“Well, I have a report on my desk that he went missing at the beginning of last summer. I’ll check that out.” Kingsley commented, reaching over and grabbing the book. Harry’s eyes lingered on Sebastian Jones...that man looked familiar too but he didn’t know how.

“He’s dead,” Moody declared bluntly when he saw where Harry was looking. “Dementors they say. He was able to control ‘em.”

“Dementors?” Harry asked aghast. “You can’t control ‘em? Can you?”

“He was brilliant when it came to certain spells and one allowed him to contact Dementors.” Kingsley declared and Harry gaped. “But you’re right, you can’t control ‘em, and it’s the belief that he was taken by ‘em.”

“What about--?” Harry began.

“Dementors power?” Moody interrupted. “You have to have happy memories to begin with for them to take Potter. And anyway, he was put under the cruticus curse so many times that he was too deranged in his own mind to be affected. That’s probably why Voldemort valued him so.”

Harry paled slightly at the thought of all having no happy memories, being deranged, and then being taken by the ones who you tired to control.

“See you later, Potter,” Moody said as he walked off.

“Yeah, bye Harry,” said Tonks cheerfully as she backed into a chair.

“Bye, Mr. Potter,” said Kingsley. Harry nodded at them and then turned back to Lupin. Snape and Dumbledore got up and left with the others.

“Why didn’t you tell me Harry?” Lupin asked after a pause and Harry shrugged.

“I guess I really didn’t think about it.” Harry instantly regretted the words because Lupin’s face tried hard to hide the hurt. “I’m sorry, really, Professor.”

“Harry—call me Remus, please.” Lupin begged, his face worn and his voice weak from strain.

“Alright,” Harry mumbled. They fell into an awkward silence.

“Why...why, please tell me the truth Harry, why didn’t you tell me?” Lupin begged and Harry sighed.

“I-I just couldn’t,” Harry whispered. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Lupin reminded him too much of Sirius, and Harry knew he reminded Lupin too much of Sirius.

“W-why?” Lupin croaked. He looked worn and tired; Harry wondered when the next full moon was.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. “I really am.”

“You can talk to me Harry, really.” Lupin mumbled and Harry nodded.

“I know...it’s just whenever I’m around you—” Harry choked. “I remember Sirius.”

“I know it’s hard on you,” Lupin said, looking through his hands. “Especially with all that’s been happening. You’ve been through so much. Sirius would be proud.”

“I know...” Harry muttered and Lupin reached over and held Harry’s shoulder.

“You can talk to me Harry,” Lupin declared again. “About anything.” He removed his hand and looked at Harry carefully. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that when Sirius...well you know...his money split in half between your vault and mine.”

“What?” Harry gasped. “I don’t want anything! You take it all.” Harry jumped to his feet. Sirius’s money in his vault! He didn’t want Sirius’s money and anyway Lupin needed it more.

“Harry,” Lupin jumped to his feet too. “Listen, of all things Sirius wanted for you, is to be set in life. Even if he couldn’t be there. He arranged when he was appointed godfather for you to get his money transferred to your vault if anything were to happen to him.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I don’t want it! You take it...I don’t want it.” With that Harry turned and ran from the Hall. He had come to terms with Sirius’s death already, but it was like the plaque Harry had found in the dungeons, what Lupin had just said dug up painful memories.

“HARRY!” Lupin shouted as Harry dashed up the stairs right pass Snape, Dumbledore, and Moody. But Harry didn’t listen, he just ran down corridors until he came upon the Room of Requirement. He dashed back and forth three times and then dived into the room.

There were two large armchairs, so large that they engulfed Harry when he flopped into one. In front of him was a large cackling fire. He just sat there, staring into the fire as if it wasn’t there.

He didn’t want to think about it. Not about Sirius’s money. He couldn’t explain why it affected him so badly, it just did.

After a minute he couldn’t think about it any longer. Sighing in frustration, Harry jumped to his feet and grabbed the book that was on the small table between the two armchairs.

“Great, just my luck, it’s Arithmancy.” Harry hissed darkly. He had been flipping through the curse-breaking booklet and realized that he needed Arithmancy. The one thing he didn’t have, and the one thing he needed. He might as well stick to being an Auror.

Yet, he found himself, picking up the book, settling back in his chair and reading it. Hermione was right, it was interesting.

‘Sometimes,’ Harry thought darkly. ‘I hate this room. It always gives you what you need, even if you don’t want it.’ Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair, trying harder and harder to concentrate on anything other than Sirius’s money.

After a while of reading, Harry found himself no longer able to concentrate. And it was at that moment that the door to the room swung open.

Harry jumped a bit. He was half expecting it to be Lupin, but found to his surprise Snape standing there. He didn’t know rather or not it was a good thing it was Snape.

“There you are,” Snape hissed snidely.

“Here I am,” Harry mumbled.

“What’s the problem this time Potter?” Snape snarled and Harry flinched a bit. He knew it was just Snape’s way of things, how he worked, but he still found it annoying. “The Dursleys? You and the werewolf have a brawl over them? Or over being an Auror?” His eyes fell onto the Arithmancy book.

“No, and why does it matter, sir?” Harry snapped and Snape took a step forward.

“Obviously it matters when you take off running from Lupin, and stash yourself in the Room of Requirement.” Snape responded, his voice not as cold as before. “What was it about? Lupin wouldn’t say.”

“Sirius,” Harry mumbled.

“Hmm...” Snape sat in the armchair that Harry wasn’t occupying. “That’s an open wound for both of you.” He stated in Hermione’s matter-of-fact voice. “He’s not trying to be Black, so what’s the problem?”

“It’s stupid really,” Harry mumbled. He figured he’d already cried in front of Snape three times, there wasn’t much else that the man could hold against him. “Just it bothers me, I don’t know why.”

“What?” Snape pressed and Harry sighed. He slapped the Arithmancy book close and tossed it onto the table between them. Snape’s eyes landed on it.

“Sirius’s money,” Harry stated and Snape seemed to understand what he meant. “I don’t know why, it just...gets to me.” Snape shifted in his seat. Harry wondered if he was uncomfortable.

“No,” Snape stated. “It makes sense.” Snape didn’t elaborate and Harry was thankful. In a way, he didn’t want to know why it made sense. Harry stood up, suddenly intent on getting back to the Tower. Snape stood up too.

“Have you talked to Professor McGonagall?” He asked, blocking Harry’s path. “About not being an Auror?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not taking Arithmancy.” Harry mumbled. “That’s what I need. I should just stick to Auror,” Harry’s voice shook a bit.

“Potter, talk to McGonagall.” Snape ordered. Harry stared at him, and shrugged.

“I’m telling you!” Harry snarled. “It won’t do any good!”

“Potter,” Snape’s voice was warning him.

“Leave it alone!” Harry snapped trying to step around Snape. Snape’s grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Potter, stop!” Snape growled.

“Why?” Harry demanded. “Why the hell do you care so much?”

Snape seemed startled by the question. Harry was staring at him, his face demanding to know why. All these years of hatred toward him because he was James Potter’s son, all these years of torment with insults, taking of points, and detentions. And now, suddenly, he seemed to care.

“Because,” Snape began slowly. “Y-you made me realize you weren’t your father, but more of your mother.” Harry stared at him, his face the famous impassive expression Snape always wore. Then, it broke.

Harry seemed to fall forward, as if it was all too much for him, and it probably was. Snape caught him slightly, and pulled him so that Harry’s forehead rested on his shoulder. Harry wasn’t crying; he was just caught up in a wave of emotions.

“Let’s make a deal Mr. Potter,” Snape suggested after a few minutes. “You talk to McGonagall about your future, trust me on this, and I’ll teach you how to play Wizard’s Chess.” Harry pulled away and looked him in the eye.

“What kind of deal is that?” he asked, his voice highly amused. “Talk to McGonagall, who to my understanding took it onto her being to make me become an Auror, and then learn how to play Chess with you, the bane of all existence to all Gryffindors.”

“Seeing as you, Mr. Potter, are the bane of my existence, I feel it would be an even trade.” Snape commented sarcastically. Harry stared him in the eye for a few moments and then nodded.

“Alright,” Harry mumbled.

“You’ll have to talk to McGonagall before the holidays are up, Mr. Potter. If you don’t you’ll have detention until you’re too old to apperate to the school.” Snape declared.

“You can’t,” Harry began.

“You’d be surprised Mr. Potter,” Snape snarled.

“Apperate to the school,” Harry finished off and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“So you do know some things?” he remarked snidely.

“Hermione more or less beat it into my head in my third year,” Harry retorted as he began to leave the room.

“Hmm...that makes more sense,” Snape commented and Harry shot him a dark look. “Don’t forget to talk to her, Potter.” Harry nodded and disappeared out of the room.

888

Ron and Hermione had similar ideas when they cornered Harry the night after their return to Hogwarts.

“Harry, we’ve been talking,” Hermione recited.

“And we’ve decided to make you talk to McGonagall; rather you like it or not, mate.” Ron said sternly. Harry had the feeling that they rehearsed it. “Ginny agrees too. She says if you haven’t by the end of the holidays, you’ll have to deal with her.”

“Same with us,” Hermione snapped. “You don’t want to be an Auror anymore, so there’s no need for you to. You just have to talk to Professor McGonagall. If you don’t, you’ll have to deal with more then just Ginny.”

“Alright,” Harry said startling them both. They obviously weren’t expecting this type of reaction from him. Or for him to relent so easily. “And you’ll just have to get in line if you want hurt me for not talking to McGonagall by the end of the holidays.”

“Really?” Hermione asked intrigued. “Who else?”

“Snape,” Harry smiled at Ron’s dumbfounded expression. “He cornered me in the Room of Requirement.” Hermione smiled, obviously pleased by this and Ron looked a bit horrified. “Anyway, you missed it,” Harry said as he launched into the story of Number Nine Privet Drive and the un-mark and marked Death Eaters.

“Blimey, controlling Dementors, didn’t know it was possible.” Ron whispered.

“It’s not,” Hermione informed. “Seeing as he ended up being killed by them in the end.”

“Do you really think he’s dead?” Ron asked, wonderingly. “Maybe he’s just living with them, and controlling ‘em.” Harry shuddered at the thought of living with dementors.

“No,” Hermione said sternly. “I highly doubt that.” And the subject was dropped.

“Wizard’s Chess?” Ron offered and Harry grinned. He wondered if Snape would be able to help him. That was definitely the last thing Harry had thought Snape would offer. Maybe ‘extra potions’ like Harry had been doing for a while, but not Wizard Chess.

He shrugged a bit to himself. It could’ve been worse and he’d like to see Ron’s face when he finally challenged him a bit in a game.

Harry decided to talk to Professor McGonagall as soon as possible, afraid that he would lose his nerve if he waited too long. So, the weekend before the holidays were over, Harry found himself standing before the Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor House’s office.

Steeling himself, Harry knocked on the door and waited for the curt ‘come in.’ Sighing, Harry pushed into her office.

“Mr. Potter?” McGonagall glanced up, her eyes rising above the rims of her glasses. “Can I help you?”

“Err—you remember last year, the career advice meeting?” Harry asked and McGonagall nodded slowly.

“A bit hard to forget,” she informed with a twitching smile.

“Well, I know you pledged to make me an Auror and all...” Harry trailed off as McGonagall nodded. “Err—I don’t want to be an Auror anymore.” The boy finally stated bluntly. To say McGonagall was surprised would’ve been a bit of an understatement.

“Truly, Mr. Potter, for it came to my attention that that was all you truly dreamed of these last couple of years. Why the sudden change of heart?” her voice sounded like she was hiding something that Harry couldn’t place.

“Well, it was,” Harry said tiredly. “But only because at the time I figured I’d have to because of Voldemort, but now he’s gone. I just don’t really want to fight anymore and plus it’s too much authority...judging by Mad-Eye Moody...not sure I like that.”

“Hmm...well Mr. Potter, I must say I’m not terribly surprised, and to that fact, Severus’s conversation suddenly makes sense.” She smiled faintly and Harry relaxed. He had been sure McGonagall would be disappointed in him for giving up on being an Auror. “What do you want to be?”

“A curse breaker for Gringotts...Bill Weasley is that and I’ve always thought it might be a bit interesting.” McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

“Well, Mr. Potter, to achieve that you’ll need Arithmancy and you aren’t in that class. An ‘E’ on your O.W.L.S. I do believe.” Harry’s face fell. That had been his one shot.

McGonagall sat down and stapled her fingers in much the same way Snape did when he was considering things. Harry leaned back in his chair sighing. Why hadn’t he just dropped Divinations like Hermione and joined Arithmancy. He had to admit, he had been intrigued by it when she talked of it, yet he hadn’t thought about it.

“How serious are you Mr. Potter?” McGonagall demanded.

“Completely,” Harry declared.

“Serious enough that’ll you take tutoring in Arithmancy on weekdays and on weekends, drop one free period and join the class, study hard and be ready to take the O.W.L at the end of the year?” Harry gaped at her. Could she really do that?

“Of course,” Harry breathed. “And Hermione could help me, too.”

McGonagall studied him for a few minutes and then nodded. Her lips were twitching. “Alright, Mr. Potter, I’ll talk to Professor Vector and see what can be arranged. As long as you are serious to your studies.” Harry nodded firmly. “You may leave, Mr. Potter.” She was smiling and Harry, quite grateful, hurried out.

He couldn’t find Hermione and Ron after he McGonagall’s office, so he just found himself wondering around the castle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Flitch suddenly said causing Harry to spin around.

“Err—walking,” Harry replied.

“Oh you better be glad that Professor Umbridge’s decrees were disbanded because for your lip you would have found yourself hanging up by your toes.” Flitch stepped forward with beady eyes pinned on Harry.

Harry rested the urge to take a step backwards as the greasy caretaker stepped closer. Why Dumbledore let Flitch stay at the castle was beyond Harry.

“Potter you’re always up to no good...” Flitch snarled. “What do you think you’re wondering the castles corridors for?”

“I’m not,” Harry informed snidely. Flitch took a step forward.

“Up to no good Potter? Like you always are?” Flitch snarled. “I don’t like you Potter, cause too much trouble. What’s up your sleeves?” his movements were quick, so quick that Harry didn’t have time to react. Flitch’s hand shot out, grabbed Harry’s pocket that usually contained the Twins’ sweats, and withdrew their newest products.

“Hey!” Harry protested, trying to step away but Flitch grabbed him by the scruff of his robe collar and pulled hard. It was obviously a trained move because it startled Harry enough that he jerked his neck which caused a sharp, stinging pain.

“Aha,” Flitch snarled. “Caught you red handed, you won’t get away with this Potter. Not this time.”

“Flitch, unhand that boy!” a voice suddenly ordered.

“Not this time, Professor, caught him red handed. He’ll pay this time.” Flitch snarled, tightening his hold so that Harry almost cried out.

“As far as I am aware, Flitch, those tricks you have in your hands are not yet illegal, nor were they going to be used, seeing as there’s no use using them when no one is around. Now, unhand him!” Harry instantly recognized the Professor’s voice. It was Snape.

Flitch growled slightly and pushed Harry away from him. Ms. Norris hissed darkly at Harry from her position in the shadows and with her master turned and walked away.

“Must you, Mr. Potter, constantly get in trouble?” Snape demanded once Flitch was out of ear shot.

“Err—I seem to have a hard time avoiding it.” Harry rubbed his neck a bit and looked back at Snape. He was standing half in and half out of the shadows, his face a deep snarling scowl (his usual face) but the way he was perched in the hall made him look ten times more menacing.

“Apparently so,” Snape commented dryly and Harry shrugged.

“Thanks for helping, who knows what would’ve happened otherwise.” Harry smirked slightly showing that he probably had a good idea and he turned to go.

“Heard you talked to McGonagall,” Snape said suddenly. Harry nodded and kept walking. “I expect you at my office on Tuesday at eight.” Harry stopped in shock. “Do not think I’d forget about our deal Mr. Potter. Now, however, I regret it.” His voice seemed to say otherwise.

Harry turned around and found Snape was turning to walk away himself. “I do, however, wish you had prolonged your wait to talk with Professor McGonagall. I would’ve loved to give you detention until the end of your days.”

“Are you saying you still can’t sir?” Harry asked, his voice highly amused.

“I can, Potter, I can.” With that Snape was gone. Harry smirked to himself. He was sure Snape could, but he wouldn’t want to, seeing as it meant he’d have to put up with Harry until the end of his own days. But Harry didn’t dare say so.

888

Hermione was beyond pleased to help Harry with Arithmancy. Ron looked a bit disappointed that Harry had lost his only free period that they had together but he was the nonetheless glad that Harry was getting what he wanted.

“Won’t take away from Quidditch, will it?” Ron asked after Hermione ran off to find some books.

“No,” Harry said hopefully. Ron nodded all too pleased about that.

They could hear Hermione’s thumps and clunks as she dug through her trunk, looking for something. Harry had the feeling it was another book, probably a large book on Arithmancy.

“Mate, you’ve gotten yourself in deep now. Hermione’s bringing out books already. Chess?” Ron laughed, producing a chess board. “If you’re in the middle of a game, she can’t bother you.”

Harry laughed and obliged to a game. He hoped that with Snape’s lessons would give him a surprise advantage one day.

888

The rest of the school came back on Sunday, all hollering and shouting as usual. Harry found to a point that the noise was bothersome and at the same time a bit relieving. Yet, with the holidays over, Harry as were the others, were all suddenly famous again. This annoyed Ginny and Harry to no end, while Ron and Neville seemed to enjoy it.

Yet, it was Sunday evening that Harry found himself cornered by McGonagall.

“Here’s the deal,” she said in a curtly, businesslike manner. “You’ll take up the fifth year Arithmancy class, seeing as they’ll be preparing for the O.W.L.S. On Wednesdays after dinner, you’ll report for tutoring from Professor Vector. On Sundays, from one to three, also. Is that okay? Also, ask Miss Granger for help.”

She smiled slightly as she thrust Harry’s new timetable into his hands. It hadn’t changed, expect his free period on Tuesday was no longer there. “Don’t make me regret this, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded and smiled slightly to himself. It was an odd feeling, knowing suddenly that he had a chance to be what he really wanted to be.

888

Harry, however, felt oddly uncomfortable when he walked into the fifth year Arithmancy class. He didn’t know nearly as much as they did, though Hermione had more or less been cramming the basics into his head sense she found out, so he had some knowledge.

Professor Vector, to Harry’s relief, didn’t announce him as a new student to the class, just treated like it had been there the whole time. Luna Lovegood was in that class, which surprised Harry a bit, but gave him a bit of comfort. He wished he could’ve got into the one that Ginny had, but that was during Charms.

Arithmancy class was oddly fascinating and Harry wasn’t half bad. Yet, he lacked serious theory logic and was obviously behind. At first, all the fifth years gave him odd looks and whispered, and Harry could already tell rumors were starting, but by the end of the lesson no one seemed to care anymore.

However, Harry was immensely relieved to be free of that class. It was a great lesson, but the looks were annoying. At least sixth years knew him well enough not to shoot glances and stare.

Ron and Hermione met him in the Great Hall.

“Well?” Hermione demanded. “How’d it go?”

“Okay, aside from the glances and rumors, it was quite fun.” Ron muttered ‘mental’ under his breath while Hermione beamed.

Later that night, Harry found himself at Snape’s office. “Come in,” Snape ordered. “You’re two minutes early Potter.” He said, almost as if in disgust.

“There’s just no pleasing you, is there?” Harry sighed. “Either I’m two minutes early and you’re annoyed, or I’m a minute late and you’re peeved.” Snape didn’t make any comment, so Harry flopped down in a chair and waited two minutes.

“Alright,” Snape finally said, sitting back and brushing his parchments aside. He noticed that they were Sixth Year Potion essays. Harry rolled his eyes as he thought of Snape marking him even farther down for being early. But no, Harry thought, Snape wouldn’t do that, well not now at least.

“How was your Arithmancy lesson?” Snape asked as he set up the board.

“Fine,” Harry replied and that was the end of the conversation. They didn’t talk much beyond chess, which made sense to Harry. If he was there for Remedial Potions, or working on Madame Pomfrey’s potions it seemed to be a different meaning. It was to help Harry in school.

Yet, for him to be there for Wizard Chess lessons it was in a way a truce of some sort. At least out of the classroom and that went against everything both of them knew to be. It was uncomfortable, and it would take time to adjust yet in a way they both needed it.

“Ginny, you’re mental. You too, Harry. How to you think we’ll pull this off?” Ron asked in a quiet whisper. They were sitting in the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower, pushed up to the back corner and all leaning in and whispering. Hermione was on Perfect duty so she wasn’t there.

Dean and Seamus had taken the chance to use their own boredom for some good Twin tricks.

“We got to,” Harry declared.

“For the twins, in honor of them.” Ginny smiled darkly. “It’s their birthday Wednesday; I do believe we owe the school a good prank in their honor.”

“Yeah, but what and on whom?” Ron hissed quietly.

“Flitch,” Ginny declared, shooting a glance around for eavesdroppers. “He’s gotten worse over the weeks,” Ginny declared darkly

“Yes, and pulling a prank on him will make that much better.” Ron whispered doubtfully.

“No, but he won’t know who it was. He’ll be suspicious, as usual, but who knows what’ll happen. Anyway, we’ve got it planned out, just need a third person.” Harry chuckled, meeting Ginny’s eyes. They had had it all planned out and planned to have several people write out their view on the prank and send it to the twins.

“Oh,” Ron suddenly pouted. “Just a third person...last minute, eh?” Ginny and Harry looked at it each other and grinned.

“Ron, mate, you were our first choice and we’ve been planning it for weeks. We didn’t want word getting out ‘cause everything will just be ruined. That’s why it’s last minute.” Harry paused as he leaned back, stretching a bit and making to get up. “But if you don’t want too...I’m sure Dean’s always up for it.”

Ginny had broken it off with Dean sometime over the summer, saying it just wasn’t working out, but Ron had yet to be informed of this. Though he had the suspicion that they weren’t together.

The words had the wanted effect because instantly Ron’s eyes bugged out and leaned farther forward.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked in a dark whisper. Ginny shot an amused look at Harry before leaning forward to explain.

“It’s a simple spell, but we need two distractions while Harry does the spell. That’s why we need you. I’ll be one and you’ll be the other.” Ginny informed slyly. “You’ll be on one side of the corridor and I’ll be on the other. Harry will be under the invisibility cloak because he’ll have to dive to and fro a lot. Can you do that?” Ginny demanded of Harry.

“No problem,” Harry waved off sheepishly.

“Yes, I get it,” Ron said with an annoyed nod. “But what’s this spell going to do? And why does Harry have to dive to and fro?”

“Oh, it’s an awesome spell. A Quidditch spell to be exact,” Harry chuckled. “It’s a training spell for Chasers.” Harry and Ginny’s grins were wicked. “It’s an image of a quaffle that just drops before you, so you can catch it and throw it. It’s a reaction spell. But you see...” at this point Ginny and Harry could barely stop grinning and holding in their laughter.

“No one...” Ginny said.

“Can see it.” Harry burst out laughing and Ron grinned wickedly. “The reason I have to dive to and fro is because it needs to be timed for dinner and it also needs to be cast on both sides.”

“So...” Ron’s face was splitting into a wicked grin. “He’ll think he’s seeing a quaffle going up and down during dinner?” Harry nodded and instantly Ron was howling in laughter. Ginny and Harry were having a hard time of containing their laughter.

888

All during Potions Snape was in a spiteful mood toward anyone not in his house, and he was handing out points to Slytherin like they were candy.

Ron and Harry met each others eyes when Malfoy successfully ruined both their potions and Snape didn’t so much as blink at Malfoy instead insulted them.

“We’re meeting Ginny,” Harry declared in a dark hiss as Snape poured over Neville’s potion with insults. “Just up the corridor, and the person is changing.” Ron nodded while Hermione attempted in vain to calm down Neville. Ron understood what he meant.

“What’s the problem Longbottom? Can’t stop dreaming of dark nights.” Neville paled instantly. “Or clowns.” Instantly the Slytherins roared in laughter while Neville more or less shook with horror.

“I can’t believe he did that! Neville told him that in trust.” Harry hissed.

“What’s his problem?” Ron asked as Snape snapped again.

“Maybe he ran out of greasy shampoo,” commented a Ravenclaw who had the misfortune to be overheard by Malfoy.

“Sir!” Malfoy cried out in mock disgust. “Weasley and Potter are making fun of you. Potter said that you ran out greasy shampoo in answer to Weasley’s question to what your problem was.” Snape whirled around at Malfoy’s words while the two accused gaped like fish.

“Potter detention with Fli—” he paused, his eyes sliding onto Harry. “With me at eight tonight. And twenty points for your comments.” His eyes ere flashing as Harry tried to say that he never said such a thing.

“Sir!” Harry protested.

“Well, Potter, if you didn’t say it, who did?” Snape ordered and Harry gaped. His eyes glanced quickly at the Ravenclaw who was ungodly pale. Locking his jaw in annoyance, Harry didn’t respond and went back to his potion. “Thought so,” but Snape’s tone was different.

“Thanks,” the Ravenclaw murmured as Harry shrugged. Ron sighed a bit and muttered about his friend having too soft of a heart. Hermione shot him an apologetic look while Neville was shivering.

“This joke is a go,” Harry whispered in Ron’s ear.

Until the end of class hardly anyone beside the Slytherins spoke. Most of the other houses were peeved at Snape for assigning detention when he didn’t have an valid proof of Harry saying that, while most Ravenclaws were a bit annoyed at their own classmate for sticking up for Harry.

“Well that was an enjoyable class.” Hermione commented dryly as they trooped out of the classroom. Harry and Ron had odd smiles plastered on their faces, which was causing Hermione to give them odd looks. “What are you two grinning about?” she demanded suspiciously.

But neither boy could answer, and rounding the corner not far from the Potions classroom they met Ginny and some of her friends. Harry nodded, which was the signal that it was a go, and the redheaded girl’s smile widened.

“What the hell do you me that you hate my hair?” Ginny screeched turning on a fourth year boy who hadn’t known what he was agreeing to when she asked if they could get into an argument in the dungeons. Hermione’s eyes widened and she dived forward.

Harry had already slipped off to the side, into a nook where no one could see him. He threw his cloak on and waited for Ron to start.

“Why does it matter?” Ron randomly shouted at Neville, having whispered a warning to start a good argument, which luckily Neville caught on to.

“IT JUST DOES!” Neville shouted back, obviously a bit relieved at being allowed to shout at someone after a horrid potions class.

“MY HAIR’S RED! SO WHAT!” Ginny continued and together her and her brother stirred up an impressive rant that drew more then just Flitch, but Snape too.

“What’s going on here?” Snape demanded, pushing through the crowd that was forming. He frowned when no one paid him any attention. Harry moved into position, from Ron’s side while Snape turned his attention on Ginny. Flitch wasn’t far away, standing behind Snape. But Harry went for Snape instead of the caretaker.

“Drafled,” Harry muttered under his breath, his wand inches from Snape’s left shoulder. Snape seeing that he was getting nowhere with Ginny, he turned his attention onto Ron. “Drafled.” Harry murmured on the right shoulder and drew away.

He ran back to the nook and tore off his cloak before shoving it back into his bag. Then he snuck around the crowd and then smiling darkly shoved his way through. He pulled a face that looked like he had run all the way.

Snape’s eyes swiveled onto him darkly.

“Ron!” Harry panted.

“What?” Ron snapped, rounding on his friend.

“Nothing,” Harry said. “Just wanted you to stop yelling, it’s annoying.” Harry grinned darkly. That was the line that told Ron and Ginny that he had succeeded.

“Git,” Ron snarled before turning around and storming off. Everyone, including Ginny and her debtor were staring after Ron in shock and then glancing at Harry who was just staring after his friend in what he hoped was a dark look.

He stormed after Ron and caught up with him going to the Tower. Their eyes met and they snorted. “Brilliant,” they both whispered before falling into a highly amused silence.

After dumping their things off, they joined in with the throng of students heading into the Great Hall. They sat next to Ginny, Neville and Hermione. Upon sitting down Ron, Ginny and Harry had to instantly avoid each other’s gazes to keep from laughing.

“What was that all about in the dungeons?” Hermione asked and Ron shrugged.

“Just needed to rant,” he said as everyone waited for an answer. After that the topic wasn’t brought up. By now, everyone had heard about the Potions lesson. That was why Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw were down so many points and Slytherins were up by many.

“You changed to Snape didn’t you?” Ginny whispered and Harry nodded. Ginny didn’t seem to mind, she had heard about Neville too.

Snape stalked in, obviously not pleased and sat down. Harry shot him a glance and counted down the seconds.

“Eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three...two...one...” He chanted and instantly Snape shot back in his chair, his eyes wide in shock. The screeching noise caught everyone’s attention.

“What the...” Snape’s words trailed off as he looked up and watched the Quaffle drop again, either slower or quicker. Judging by the snap of his head, it was a quicker time. Everyone stared. “What the hell is this quaffle doing?”

All the Professors stared at him while all the students giggled. Again Snape’s head shot up and followed the quaffle only he could see down. “Why is there a quaffle attacking my dinner?” he demanded again, his neck snapping up and down.

Students were having a hard time of containing their laughter. It wasn’t everyday that you saw your professor, and not just any professor but Professor Snape, the dreaded Potions Master of the dungeons, going crazy.

“I demand to know what this quaffle is doing!” He grabbed the quaffle and threw it. Students could no longer contain their laughter. Upon seeing Professor Snape throwing nothing but air had been the breaking point. Several professors were having their own time containing their laughter.

“What?” Snape hollered, standing up and watching the quaffle he had thrown drop back down in front of him.

“Severus, there isn’t a quaffle in front of you!” McGonagall snapped and Snape’s glared.

“There is to!” Snape cried out. He once again grabbed air and thrust it toward McGonagall who didn’t flinch.

“Severus,” Dumbledore began slowly.

“What’s with this thing?” Snape roared in anger, his eyes following the quaffle again. Everyone was laughing now, especially when he grabbed it and threw it again. Ron and Harry were almost out of their seats while some actually were. Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling and Sprout was already laughing out loud while McGonagall seemed to be trying hard not to laugh.

Snape was glaring, and he kept grabbing the quaffle and throwing it.

“Cruel,” Hermione snorted but Snape’s attitude lately caused him to deserve it. All the students, even Slytherins, were rolling around and laughing.

Then, as Snape grabbed the invisible quaffle again and threw it only causing more laughter, something dawned on him. His eyes flashed and his face pulled such a dark look that it silenced several students, even in the upper classes.

Waving his wand, the spell was cancelled and Snape was glaring.

“Who did this?” he snarled darkly, as McGonagall catching onto the joke, also stood up and glared around. Not a student moved, though several were having a hard time of not laughing. Snape’s eyes scanned each table before landing on the Golden Trio. Ron and Harry had their faces buried in their food, trying hard not to start laughing again.

“Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter!” Snape suddenly shouted causing them both to look up startled. “Come here,” the whole hall watched in silence as the two shot each other worried looks and crawled off the bench.

“Do you know anything about the joke played on Professor Snape?” McGonagall demanded once Harry and Ron were had the Head Table.

“No,” Ron gulped, not daring to glance at Snape.

“Yes you do,” Snape snapped. “You always do.”

“Do you realize that a prank like this, Mr. Weasley can cause you to lose your Prefect badge?” McGonagall informed darkly and Ron paled quickly.

“He wasn’t part of it,” Harry declared. “It was my idea, I cast the spell.”

“You would have to get inches from him, Mr. Potter. I’m sure Professor Snape would’ve noticed that.” McGonagall snapped and Harry shrugged.

“Ron and Neville were fighting, and I had err-been planning this.” Suddenly he felt bad. “So, I had my cloak on me, and I used his distraction to do it. Read about the spell in a book.”

“And you knew nothing of this Mr. Weasley?” Luckily Ron was quick and a good liar because he shook his head, mumbling that he didn’t know anything about it. “Well, Mr. Potter, I’m highly disappointed in you,” her lips were twitching. “And I’ll leave your punishment up to Professor Snape.”

“Come,” Snape’s eyes flashed and he turned around. Harry shot a look at Ron, and then at Ginny, who looked on the verge of proclaiming herself part of the group too, but Harry’s look shot it down. Ginny was already on probation from Quidditch for a fight she had with a Ravenclaw not but a week ago.

Once outside the Great Hall doors, the whole hall burst out laughing again, along with the teachers. No one could help it. Snape had for the passed ten minutes shouted about a quaffle he could only see and was grabbing and throwing air. Not something one is use to seeing Snape do.

Snape didn’t glance at Harry as they trooped down into the dungeons. Not until they got before the Potions classroom and he pushed Harry into it. “Clean,” he snarled.

Harry grunted and started to gather the cleaning material. Turning, he found Snape still staring at him.

“Yes?” Harry demanded as he was a bit peeved now. If Snape hadn’t been acting like such a git lately then he would’ve done it on Flitch.

“Why’d you do it?” he demanded in a voice that quite clearly said ‘that joke shows you to be more like your father’. Harry glared.

“For your information,” Harry snarled. “That joke was planned for Flitch, so don’t flatter yourself with the consideration of a good joke. Yet, this whole week you’ve been acting like a complete git toward anyone not in your house. You used what you knew of Neville, who’s trusted you enough to confide in you, to embarrass him in front of a class of ruthless Slytherins. Of all the things I’ve come to expect of you that wasn’t one of them.” Harry snarled, as he grabbed the cleaning rag and ran it over the first countertop.

Snape stared at Harry for a minute, his face suddenly impassive, before he walked forward, grabbed Harry by the shoulder and dragged him out of the classroom.

“Leave, Potter, now!” He snarled and Harry turned around to watch Snape stalk back toward his office. Sighing, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and walked off. He went off toward the lake and stared out toward the water. The giant squid was flapping his arms around loudly in the water.

The silent truce between him and Snape which they held during Harry’s Wizard Chess lessons was suddenly emerging. Maybe he shouldn’t have said what he said, or done what he done. He could’ve gone about it differently. He moaned and buried his head into his hands. He suddenly felt like his father.

Harry had completely humiliated Snape.

Grinding his teeth, Harry suddenly took back off toward the dungeons. He found Snape in his office, pouring over parchments.

He didn’t bother knocking, knowing that Snape would just ignore it. He just entered and Snape glared at him.

“Your detention was cancelled,” he snarled darkly.

“I just wanted to say I was sorry,” Harry choked out. This was harder then saying thanks. “I shouldn’t’ve done it. It could’ve been handled differently. But I swear I’m not my father in that way.” With that he spun around and marched out of the office. Yet, he didn’t get far.

“Potter,” Snape called after him. “Send Mr. Longbottom down here.” Harry nodded slightly. “Oh, and Potter,” Harry looked back. “I never accused you of being like your father; I stick to what I said over the holidays. You’re more like your mother, and you prove that everyday. But you can stop taking the blame for others, such as Ravenclaws.”

Harry smiled a bit and glanced at Snape whose face was impassive. He nodded, showing that he accepted Snape’s own apology and went off to find Neville.

“Nev,” Harry called out when he found Neville walking down the corridor. “Snape wants to see you.” Neville looked horrified. “It’s okay,” Harry reassured. Neville nodded sadly and walked off toward the dungeons.

Shaking his head, Harry turned the corridor and ran into Professor Gary.

“Oh, sorry, sir.” Harry stuttered as Gary grabbed him to keep his own balance. Harry stared him in the eyes and found to his surprise that they were brown and sprinkled with white. His head ran wild. He knew he had seen those eyes before but his mind was too confused at the moment.

“Oh, no problem lad.” Professor Gary laughed, looking a bit to the left of Harry’s face. Shaking his head, Harry walked off.

888

The next day there came a surprise announcement.

Neville had caught up with Harry the next day before he went into the common room and told him, a bit mystified, that Snape had apologized to him for using what he knew about Neville’s dreams to taunt him.

“I’m not sure what came over him, but it looked painful.” Harry chuckled at Neville’s words. It probably took all of Snape’s willpower to say that.

As the entered the common room, they could it crammed packed full of students.

“What’s going on?” Harry demanded of a third-year girl. She squeaked at being addressed but answered anyway.

“There’s going to be a dance, the weekend after the Quidditch final. It’s going to be an early end-of-the-year dance. I think Dumbledore did that to relieve some stress on the castle.” She squeaked before taking off.

Harry raised an eyebrow. It was true; there had been an uncanny amount of stress lately upon the castle. No one exactly knew why, Harry had it was a feeling to do with all the Ministry officials that kept showing up. Harry had the impression Fudge was failing and the Ministry was relying on Dumbledore, which put pressure on him and the professors, who in turn put pressure on the students.

“Well, that’s something I wasn’t expecting.” Harry mumbled as he flopped onto the arm of an armchair.

“I hate dances,” Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Neville all said in unison as they gathered around. Instantly they started to laugh.

Harry had the feeling he was the only one that understood why Dumbledore had announced the dance as being so early. He figured it would take the students’ minds off of things that were too stressful, plus it gave everyone time to realize that they had the ask someone to the dance thus giving almost two months notice rather then two weeks.

The only problem was that Hermione and Ron were starting to get in more and more fights with each other. Ginny and Harry always found themselves sitting in the common room rolling their eyes as the two oblivious lovebirds squawked over who was clearer Sir Nick or the Blood Baron.

“This is ridiculous,” Ginny mumbled as Ron shouted about the Bloody Baron being taller then Sir Nick. “They’re arguing about bloody ghosts. When will they realize that they like each other, and ask each out, thus saving us pain?”

“I have no idea,” Harry mumbled as he fingered a rook in his hand. He had stolen from an old chess set he found up in the attic in the North Tower. Almost all the pieces where in shams except the rook. Harry found it as a stupid metaphor but somehow the rook reminded him of how he left. An outcast survivor of something great, something he still couldn’t place yet. Even though he knew killing Tom Riddle was great, there was something else, something that he was missing. The rook was like that, too.

“I’m about to blow up at him!” Ginny hissed, looking at Ron with a dark look. Harry, still fingering the rook, looked over that them. He had been realizing it ever since Halloween that Ron was often looking at Hermione with odd glances while Hermione was caught once of twice doing the same thing.

“It wouldn’t work,” Harry mumbled disdainfully. “Not you or I, somehow it wouldn’t get through to ‘em. I’ve been dropping subtle hints to ‘em all the time, even Hermione’s oblivious. No, has to be someone else.”

“Who?” Ginny asked. “’Cause I’d give ‘em all the chocolate frogs I had for ‘em to do it.”

“Really? That’s a lot of chocolate frogs,” Harry mused as Ginny made a face at him.

“Who could it be?”

“McGonagall?” Harry asked.

“No, she’ll be too motherly.” Ginny mused. “Hagrid?”

“He’d probably blubber all up before he could get them to make sense of anything.” Harry informed and Ginny nodded in understanding. “How ‘bout Dumbledore? He’s always up for a challenge.”

“I think Snape would be more eager to get ‘em together, then Dumbledore. He likes to meddle, but in love affairs?” Ginny asked skeptically.

“So, then, how ‘bout Snape?” Harry mused and Ginny grinned wickedly.

“He might just enjoy it; I think he gets just annoyed about it as we do.” Ginny giggled. “I still don’t know rather it’s crueler to Snape or them.”

“Oh, knowing Snape...we’re being horribly cruel to Ron and Hermione.” Harry grinned wickedly as Ron snapped something about ghosts. “I say we confront Snape about it tomorrow.”

“Yes, send the two lovebirds off to Hogsmead and we’ll confront the snarling Potions Master. My dream comes true, spending my Hogsmead weekend with Snape.” Ginny giggled darkly and Harry smiled heartily.

“Oh yes, after that’s filled, my next dream of marrying Pansy will come true.” Ginny laughed and threw a pillow from the armchair at him hard.

“Well, you two are sure acting mischievously.” Ron commented as he gave up his argument with Hermione and flopped down next to him.

“Truly, and here I thought I was just being Peeves.” Harry remarked as Ginny snorted.

888

It took all of Harry and Ginny’s convincing to get Ron and Hermione to go on ahead without them to Hogsmead but after a heated debate they got them too. However, all their efforts were in vain because Snape wasn’t at his office when they got there.

“Great,” Ginny mumbled. “Any other time Hermione or Ron will be suspicious to us coming down here. I think we’ll find it hard to get detention together too.” Ginny moaned and Harry shrugged.

“So, let’s wait.” Harry sat plop down on the ground and Ginny looked at him in horror.

“And what’ll we do if a Slytherin walks by?” Ginny demanded.

“Tell ‘em we got in trouble by Snape and he sent us down here to wait. And he has yet to return to punish us. That’ll please them.” Ginny nodded and sat down.

“Well, now what?” she asked as she leaned her back against the wall.

“Simple, let’s play Rock, Paper, Scissors,” Harry suggested and in response to Ginny’s raising eyebrow he explained. “It’s a muggle game and it works like this.” Harry began to explain the muggle game and soon he and Ginny were engulfed in a battle.

Without realizing they were slowly adding new rules to the game and after about an hour of playing it, the had officially changed Rock, Paper, Scissors the muggle game to Rock with a Bang, Parchment with a slash, and Scissors there’s a bat coming the wizard version. It was quite a battle, so much in fact that when the paused to tell passing Slytherins there story it changed about three times. They couldn’t keep it straight.

“Ha, I win; Rock smashed Scissors, even bats.” Ginny declared and Harry glared.

“Yes, I still get a point ‘cause bats splatter rock with blood and make it slippery. Not a proper death.”

“Brutal,” Ginny nodded and nodded in agreement. “I heard you stick up for Snape at breakfast with Dean and Seamus. Why’d you do that? I mean I’ve never seen anyone, not even professors, stick up for him.”

“Ha, blasting rock knocks parchment into cindering fire. Five points.” When points came into the game they weren’t too sure. “Why’d I stick up for ‘m? Cause what they were saying wasn’t true and it was annoying.”

“Yes, but I believe you use to be one who took part in those conversations...” Ginny was grinning wickedly but Harry missed this for he was fumbling with the rock that he had conjured. They were conjuring the items rather then using their fists.

“So?” Harry shrugged. “Maybe I was wrong,” he shrugged again and Ginny snorted.

“Why, of all the people I expected the great Harry Potter...ha I win, five points...I never thought Professor Severus Snape would be the one to gain his trust.” Harry corked an eyebrow up at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?’ he demanded as the silently counted to three and with a wave of their wands Ginny conjured a rock that leaked lava (how she did that, Harry didn’t know) while Harry conjured a pair of scissors that were too strong to be broken by a rock but melted by the lava.

“Fifteen points, ten for beating you and another five for creativity.” Ginny grinned wickedly. If either of them were bothering to look around they would have noticed a rather tall menacing shadow appear at the end of the corridor. “And what I mean is...ever since Sirius...erm, died. I never, we actually, thought you’d find someone you could trust like you did with Sirius. Sure, you might not talk to Snape, but you still find him in the range of trusting him like you did Sirius...”

“Ten points, for my parchment smothering your rock and choking it. And I’m not sure what you mean about trusting Snape like I did Sirius.” Harry commented but somewhere inside of him he did understand. He just wasn’t sure he wanted too. In a way, it’d be like admitting that Snape was slowly replacing Sirius, something Harry figured Lupin or someone else would do. Snape just didn’t seem the likely candidate.

“Who’s winning?” Ginny asked and Harry shrugged.

“I thought you were keeping count...now how’d you come to that conclusion about Snape?” Harry demanded and Ginny frowned, not wanting to say something.

“You know, I think we just told the last Slytherin that Snape was mad at us because she flooded the Potions classroom, while we told someone else that we were in trouble for calling him an overgrown bat.”

“He isn’t?” he asked jokingly, as he and Ginny conjured up another game.

“He can be...depending on his mood.” Harry nodded in agreement. “What I mean is, if Snape hears word of why we’re down here...won’t he—err—try to punish us for those things even though we didn’t do it?”

“Yep,” Harry chuckled. “No doubt he’s gathering up every story we’ve fed out right now, gathering reasons for detentions. As long as they aren’t with Flitch, fine by me. D’you know Snape’s stopped giving me detentions?”

“What?” Ginny gasped as Harry scissors started to do a victory dance. “Stopped giving you, Harry Potter, detentions!”

“Ha, I doubt that. I meant with Flitch, usually he just passes me on to the caretaker but ever since he found Flitch threatening to hang me by toes in the corridors, and about to call up on that threat, Snape stopped giving me detentions with ‘m. He usually passes them onto McGonagall, who’s just as bad.”

“Ha! I win that and I get five points for creativity!” Ginny declared.

“You do not!” Harry retorted. “That bloody parchment was not that creative, Neville could do better.” Ginny grew an offended look and Harry made a face. “Anyway, what is it you’re not telling me? You know something...about Snape and me? Which is just creepy.”

“You’re not having Remedial Potion lessons anymore, but you’re still having lessons. Hmm...about what?” she demanded, turning to look at him wickedly. Harry raised an eyebrow but knew better then to deny it.

“Dancing...Snape’s teaching me to dance.” Harry responded coolly. Instantly Ginny’s face pulled such a brilliant look of shock, horror, surprise, shock and yet more surprise. It was a fabulous look; Harry wished he had a camera.

“A-are you serious?” she whispered.

“Yep, Snape’s quite the ballet dancer.” Harry somehow remained calm as he spoke and his voice was so confident he was sure that Dumbledore almost would’ve bought it.

“B-ballet?” she whispered, her voice not getting out properly.

“Oh yes, you should see it. He can stand on his tiptoes and manages to pull of a triple spin without so much as a flutter. Ever heard of the butterfly move? He can pull that off without a flinch too.” Harry was suddenly having a hard time containing his mirth. “Arm like this, standing on his tiptoe, other leg out behind him. Looks almost like an agile fountain statue!”

Ginny’s look was priceless now as she pictured the dreaded Potions Master pulling this kind of move off. Harry was speaking with so much truth, she found it hard to doubt.

“A-and he’s teaching you this?” Ginny choked, now trying to picture Harry learning to do this sort of thing from Snape. The picture Harry painted of Snape like a fountain statue was far too real in her head.

“Oh no,” Harry said. “He teaches me the tango.” Now Ginny’s head was reeling and her face must’ve been a look of pure shock and horror.

“T-the tango?”

“Yeah, you know...arm and arm, stretched out, and an odd marching style. Then the spin. Usually Snape spins, his ballerina moves kick in then.” Ginny looked shocked. And Harry couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He started to laugh, hard. So hard that he fell backwards on the dungeon floor and soon his laughter become blurred and a stuttered silence. Ginny was staring in shock and slowly it dawned on her. She jumped up in anger. “HARRY JAMES POTTER!” she shouted as Harry rolled over laughing hard. Not able to calm himself down.

“Oh Merlin, you should’ve seen your face.” Harry panted as he fell into a fresh wave of laughter. “I can’t believe you actually thought Snape taught me the tango. Or for that matter that Snape actually knew ballet.” Ginny’s lips twitched.

“You’ve corrupted me,” Ginny snarled. “Now every time I look at Snape I’m going to see that image of him dancing into a move like a fountain statue!” Harry fell over laughing even harder. He was laughing so hard he didn’t see Snape emerge from the shadows where he had been hiding.

Ginny hadn’t either. “You stop laughing right now!” Ginny ordered. “That was cruel; I serious thought Snape was giving you dance lessons...”

“No, he would never do that for me...just for McGonagall. You know how she likes to dance...they’re made for each other.” At this Ginny laughed, imagining Snape and McGonagall dancing.

“Still...it was cruel. I never be the same again.” Ginny said.

“Still, you should’ve seen your face. It was priceless. That look at the thought of Snape giving me dance lessons, and then him being a ballerina. Merlin, it was brilliant.” Harry rolled over laughing again.

“You’ll pay for this Potter...I might just tell Snape what you said.” Ginny hissed.

“No need to tell, I heard it all.” Instantly Harry stopped laughing and his face paled considerably fast. Ginny even paled a bit. Snape was standing in the shadows just as menacing as ever.

“Blood hell,” Harry mumbled. Snape’s eyes were piercing into him. “Err—I was kidding.” Harry suggested hopefully.

“Into my office, both of you.” He ordered in a curt voice. Harry pulled himself up and with Ginny behind him scrambled into the office. “Sit,” he ordered.

Ginny and Harry sat down without a word and glanced reluctantly at Snape. He stared at them over his desk, his eyes shifting between them.

“Why were you sitting before my office playing a violent game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, a muggle game I do believe, and then talking about me as a ballerina?” his voice was deadly calm. That wasn’t a good sign. It never was and probably never be.

“We needed to talk to you and the Rock, Paper, Scissors kind of needed some interesting points to it and...and Harry was joking I do believe.” Ginny declared. “I hope so,” she mumbled quietly to herself.

“I assure you that Potter was joking,” Snape’s eyes swiveled to Harry who tilted his head lopsided waiting for Snape to comment. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”

“Hermione and Ron,” Harry said taking his cue.

“You’re the only one,” Ginny began.

“Who’ll make them realize,” Harry interrupted.

“That why they fight...” Ginny trailed off.

“Is because they...”

“You’re the only one they’ll listen too,” Ginny declared.

“Because you’re usually blunt enough to be correct,” Harry smiled sheepishly.

“So, it’ll make ‘em realize,” Ginny carried on.

“If you say it,” Harry began.

“That they love each other.” Harry and Ginny said at the same time. Snape raised an eyebrow, obviously amused by their statement.

“And you want me to do something about it?” Snape asked.

“Yes sir,” Harry informed. After the ballerina thing, he wasn’t sure Snape would be up to doing anything for them, especially Harry.

“What do I get from it?” Snape demanded.

“They’ll stop arguing in your class,” Harry offered.

“Yes, they’ll start being mushy and sappy, much better.” Snape snarled snidely.

“But Professor,” Ginny pleaded. “You’re the only one they’ll listen to about it, and Harry and I are seconds from killing ‘em if they don’t stop fighting soon.”

“What do I get?” Snape demanded again as Harry and Ginny sighed. Harry was fiddling with rook as he tried to figure something out. Then he grinned wickedly.

“I’ve got a picture of him from the Demise Party and he’s dancing with McGonagall.” Harry whispered quietly into Ginny’s ear, so quietly that she had to lean in to hear it. She grinned wickedly.

“Sir,” she said cunningly. “You’ll want to do this for us.”

“Why?” Snape demanded.

“Because we happen to have a picture of you and McGonagall dancing, and what would happen if Harry accidentally let this picture lying around and say...Peeves or the twins got a hold of it.” Ginny was far too much like the twins at that moment, Harry realized.

“Blackmail?” Snape whispered. “Could get you expelled for that.”

“Don’t have proof,” Harry butted in and Snape glared.

“How about this,” Snape snarled. “You give me that picture, get out of my office before I count to five, and you won’t get detention until the end of the school year, just all of next week.” He was standing up and glaring down at them. “NOW!” he ordered and Ginny bit her bottom lip.

“Well that didn’t work,” Ginny mumbled.

“Accio picture,” Harry mumbled and a few seconds later the picture came flying into the room. Snape grabbed it before Harry could. He looked at it and sure enough he and McGonagall were dancing, and not just dancing, dancing the foxtrot. He frowned; he sure didn’t remember doing that.

Both Harry and Ginny jumped up, making to bolt. “Sit, now!” Snape drawled, crushing the picture in his hand. Harry didn’t seem to mind that. “I’m not sure rather to be completely peeved at you, or slightly proud. A true Slytherin side you have, blackmail. It’s interesting. Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter...would’ve never expected it.” His lips were twitching. “I’d like to think I’ve corrupted you a bit.”

And as Ginny and Harry looked at their Potions Master, they realized just how much Snape seemed more human and like an Uncle catching his niece and nephew in a dirty trick. It was an odd thing indeed.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he suggested. Harry and Ginny looked on mutely. He reached into his desk and pulled out two collars, dog collars, no flea collars, no just oddly thick necklaces. Harry eyed them warily. “I’ll get Granger and Weasley together, and you’ll wear these.”

“Why?” Ginny and Harry demanded instantly.

“I have a feeling that you two are going to be getting into a lot of trouble this week,” both Harry and Ginny shot each other looks. They had pranks planned in memory of Umbridge. It was twins’ idea. They had come up with a lot of new things and sent them all to Ginny and Harry, deeming them the pranksters because of their prank on their birthday. But how’d Snape know that?

“I don’t want to have to chase two students down through the castle, especially since I a bit intrigued to what you’re pranks might be. So you’ll wear these for the week, and if you’re out, I know it, and I can’t catch you, I just say the magic word and you’ll get a bit of a magical reminder to get back to bed.” Snape informed with a gleaming smile.

Ginny and Harry looked at each other wonderingly. Was it worth it? Wearing thick necklaces that let Snape send shocks through their body just to get their two best friends together?

“Fine,” Ginny breathed.

“But there’s rules,” Harry declared and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t believe I gave you that privilege.” He commented snidely.

“Yes, but I’m taking it.” Harry retorted and Snape looked him darkly. Harry glared at him definitely and their eyes locked for the longest time. Finally Snape seemed to relent.

“At least you’re starting to think Potter.” Snape snarled.

“Amazing, eh?” Harry commented sarcastically. “First, if we wear these necklaces things you can’t just zap us any ole time for the hell of it. Only when you think we’re running around the castle, or doing something we aren’t supposed to. Just this one week. In turn, we won’t tell Dumbledore about these necklaces because I highly doubt he knows about ‘em. I know you’re doing this in trade of Hermione and Ron, but once that’s settled; it still doesn’t give you free range to zap us. Okay?” Ginny nodded firmly in agreement and Snape seemed to fiddle with the idea.

“Alright, Potter, deal.” Snape said, and he held out his hand to shake it with both Harry and Ginny. “Come, let’s get these things on.”

“Ginny, we’re mental.” Harry commented as they watched Snape take one last look at the necklaces.

“You can both back out now.” Snape commented dryly. “I won’t help you with Granger and Weasley though. Or you can trust me with these,” Snape waved the necklaces offhandedly. Ginny eyed them but Harry stared at Snape. He was hiding something from them. But what? Was there another purpose to the necklaces?

Snape seemed to be reading his thoughts because Harry swore he saw the slightest of nods from the Potions Master saying that there was indeed something more to the necklaces.

“Fine,” Harry declared, glancing at Ginny to see if she noticed Snape’s nod. She hadn’t. Sighing, Harry climbed to his feet. “We’ll trust you.” And with that he walked around the desk and let the necklace be snapped in place. Harry found it oddly comfortable and hardly noticed it.

“It’s not there,” Ginny gasped.

“Of course, you think I’d just let you two walk about with thick pieces of magic strapped to your necks for the world to see. As Potter said, Dumbledore doesn’t know about this, don’t want to raise suspicions.” He smirked darkly and Ginny suddenly looked nervous. But Harry was still playing with the thought of why Snape truly thought they needed the necklaces. If not for Ginny, but for him.

“It’s okay, Gin.” Harry mumbled as Ginny hesitated. Sighing, she nodded slightly and let Snape buckle the necklace around her neck.

“Good luck with Ron and Hermione, if they’re arguing about ghosts, just think of it as hidden love fights.” Harry smirked as Snape’s face grew disgusted.

“Leapigh,” he muttered and instantly both Ginny and Harry leaped into the air with a yelp. A sharp, almost icy feeling had just plunge through their body. “Just checking.”

“Will it always effect both of us?” Harry asked and Snape shook his head.

“If I say only your name of Miss Weasley’s then it’ll only effect that person. Such as Leapigh Harry.” Instantly Harry jolted with another yelp. “That was for calling me a ballerina before you accuse me of abusing this power.” His grin was wicked and he ushered them out into the corridor.

Once they were in the Entrance Hall, Ginny and Harry looked at each other. They hadn’t realized Snape was following them.

“Ron and Hermione better be worth this,” Ginny muttered, itching to mess with her necklace.

“They are, and who knows...maybe Snape knows something we don’t about this up coming week. How’d he figure out anyway?” Harry said vaguely.

“Don’t know, but he actually wants to see some pranks?” Ginny echoed. “Now that’s new. You know, I think you’ve broken him Harry. I mean think about it, last year had we even thought of going to Snape for this sort of problem, or even dare what we had done with the picture...which was rather brilliant if we hadn’t forgotten it was Snape, shame a waste of picture....”

“Nah, I’ve got copies.” Harry said offhanded.

“Anyway, had we done that last year we’d probably find ourselves in detention forever and no longer wanting to be Ron and Hermione’s friends. But this year...there’s something different about you two. It’s like you understand each other, and somehow when that understanding is happening, you break through Snape. Honestly Harry, can you just not affect one person’s life for once?” Ginny giggled.

“Nope, come on, let’s go find Ron and Hermione at Hogsmead, it’s probably already spread that Snape’s mad at us...they’ll be worried.” Harry glanced at Ginny and grinned wickedly.

“D’you read the Prophet this morning?” Ginny asked offhandedly as they headed outside.

“Nah, Hermione didn’t get it and no more around us did either, so I didn’t bother. Why?”

“Just wondering, I hadn’t read it either.”

But if either of them had bothered to read it, they would’ve found out that there were more then a discovered dozen unmarked Death Eaters, all in the midst of planning something in revenge.

Yet, this was nothing to Harry and Ginny as they walked to Hogsmead. All they could think of were their pranks, Snape’s necklaces and for Harry, Snape in general.

Ginny was right, there was something different about him. He seemed almost as if enjoyed being threatened with blackmail and even more when he got to put the necklaces on. But on top of that, he just seemed to be oddly different, as if he had just realized something that struck an odd cord in his heart and he couldn’t exactly deny the feeling as he usually did.

Harry just wondered what it was.

“I just don’t want to feel a jolt when I’m asleep,” Ginny mumbled as she picked at her invisible necklace. “You know Harry, you talked back to Snape sarcastically and then set down ground rules for these things. A bit amazing, for a minute I thought he might hex you. He really is breaking for you, isn’t he?” “No, I just think...” Harry wanted to tell her what he thought but he couldn’t put it to words. It was too complicated. “I just think I’ve confused Snape.”

“Yes, and you’ve confused yourself too.” Ginny reported. “I’m still worried about the necklace thing.”

However, it wouldn’t be until later that Harry and Ginny realized just how much Snape was saving them from with the necklaces.

The rumor as to why there were a series of pranks going off was spread quickly. Harry couldn’t walk through the corridors without a whisper about the pranks being pulled in memory of Umbridge. Though to his pleasure no one knew who were pulling the pranks.

Yet, right now, as Harry walked through the corridors toward the fourth floor corridor he had on his mind something that no one, but the twins, would’ve ever dream of doing. He was going to ask Peeves for help.

Ginny had thought he was mental, asking Peeves for help with their scheming, but they were the only ones who knew what was going on and they needed a bit of help. Ron and Hermione would love to help but if they were suspicious then everyone would figure out who did it rather quickly.

“Ohh....look it’s ickle Potty.” Peeves cried out as he swooped over Harry’s head in a twirling circle. “What’s Potty Wotty doing up here when dinner’s down there.” He cackled darkly as he swooped down in a gesture to the Great Hall. Harry ducked to avoid the cackling poltergeist.

“Peeves...” Harry snarled as Peeves took to chanting his favorite Potty Wotty Dotty theme song. Peeves danced a one man tango over his head as he chanted. “Peeves!” Harry shouted loudly but Peeves didn’t stop swooping around. “I need your help!”

“What?” Peeves cackled. “Potty Dotty needs some help. With what? Charms?” Peeves cackled pulling back his arms darkly.

“No! With the pranks!” Harry snarled, gripping his wand tightly. Peeves stopped in mid-swing and looked between his legs at Harry darkly.

“So, it’s Potty who’s doing the tricks around the school.” Peeves cackled darkly, swooping to and fro again.

“Yes, and I need your help with some of them...if you’re willing to.” Harry waved his hand offhandedly. Peeves had frozen again, his back to Harry, but Harry could tell he had struck a cord.

“What is it you want my help with?” Peeves asked in an oily voice.

“Scheming and pulling jokes,” Harry said with a mischievous smile. “It’s a week in honor of Umbridge, so we’re trying to make a fool of anything Umbridge happened to do. Are you in?” Peeves had the oddest look that Harry had never seen. It was different from wicked and mischievous, something odd.

“Alright, Potty, I’m in.” With that Peeves swooped forward, grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him into a small empty classroom. “Let’s get a-scheming.” Harry grinned. Well that wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be.

888

Harry found himself slipping into a seat next to Ron and Ginny for dinner almost an hour later. Ginny shot him a look that clearly said, ‘did you do it?’ and with the vaguest of nods Harry said yes. Ginny’s face twisted in a look of glee and a bit of disbelief.

“I wonder what prank will happen next?” Ron mumbled, glancing around curiously. Harry and Ginny had decided to spread their pranks out erratically and play them on everyone.

“Well, if we think about it,” Hermione began as their end of the table looked over at them. “All that’s happening is in honor of Umbridge, so everything she did and said will be made fun of.”

“Yes, and so far we’ve had the ‘ahem’ thing, which was hilarious.” Dean commented.

“Also, a few other things, but seeing as it’s only Tuesday who knows what’ll come up.” Lavender commented a bit distastefully. Harry and Ginny didn’t dare glance at each other, knowing all too well that they were burst out laughing. All around the hall everyone was talking about the same thing.

Finally, Harry decided he was finished and got up. “We’ll meet you in the Common Room.” Hermione muttered and Harry nodded. He shared one quick glance with Ginny and walked out of the hall.

He was at his spot by the lake when Ginny found him. “I can’t believe you got Peeves to help us.” Ginny said in disbelief.

“I know,” Harry muttered. “But after I told him we needed his help with the jokes he was more than glad to. Must be a poltergeist thing.” Harry grinned sheepishly. “He’ll help us with the prank on Friday and the small ones all week.”

“Has Snape done anything about Ron and Hermione?” Ginny asked. “No, wait a minute, I know he hasn’t. But when will he?”

“Soon I hope,” Harry muttered. “I’ve got dance lessons; meet me in the Common Room around eleven.” Ginny nodded with a grin and with Harry they walked back inside. Harry had started calling the chess lessons dance lessons because of the inside joke between him and Ginny.

They split up in the Entrance Hall as Ginny went to the library and Harry down into the dungeons.

Snape already had the chess set put up and he was looking idly over an essay from a first year class. “You’re on time,” he commented snidely and Harry rolled his eyes. He sat down opposite Snape and waited while he finished grading the essay, which wasn’t long.

“You and Miss Weasley sure are erratic about your pranks.” Snape commented as he moved his knight.

“Don’t want to be figured out. We’ve decided not to be acknowledge for our tricks.” Harry shrugged as he moved his pawn. “We’ve even got Peeves helping us.” Snape looked up horrified.

“You’ve got Peeves to listen long enough and then agree to help you?” Snape asked in shock.

“Yeah, weird huh?” Harry asked and Snape nodded mutely. The rest of the time passed in silence until Harry remembered something. “Sir? Do you remember how over Christmas break I had to look at those pictures for Number Nine Privet Drive?”

“Yes,” Snape said slowly. “Don’t move that...look at my knight. What about it?”

“Well, was he there?” Snape looked up and studied Harry closely. Harry looked back with a bit of grim determination to know.

“He was there,” Snape finally said in an odd voice that caught Harry’s interest. “But he was already dead.”

“What?” Harry gasped. “How?”

“It wasn’t a forced entry...actually he was sitting with some scotch in his hand in an armchair and across from him there was an abandoned mug of brandy.” Snape informed coldly.

“So...they were friends?” Harry asked and Snape corked an eyebrow.

“Or brothers,” Snape commented impassively. “I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you this...but you have a tendency to get into a lot of trouble, so it’s best you’re on your guard.” Harry looked up a bit startled. “Potter, if you can avoid getting into any more trouble with some murderous fiend for the rest of the year, I’ll excuse your potions class from finals.”

Harry gaped. “Seriously?” he asked and Snape nodded.

“But you have to Potter, no exceptions.” Snape snarled.

“Yes, well Voldemort’s gone, who else can cause me problems?” Harry muttered and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“I do believe your third year fiasco had nothing to do with Voldemort...you know what I mean.” Snape snarled. “Though you do tend to display Slytherin traits, you’re overall Gryffindor.”

“Actually, the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I had met Malfoy before that and it...it didn’t seem too pleasing.” Snape raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “You know, all the ones involved in Voldemort’s defeat weren’t meant for the house we were put in.”

“Even the Weasleys?” Snape asked ironically.

“Ginny was to be put in Slytherin also, Ron in Hufflepuff, Hermione in Ravenclaw, Neville in Hufflepuff, Luna in Gryffindor...kind of makes sense though. Hermione’s smart, Ginny had Voldemort possessing her and she’s quite cunning, Ron can be very loyal and so can Neville. Luna’s a bit dazed but pretty brave.”

“Well, I must admit, that’s a bit of a relief. I just thought the Sorting Hat was losing its touch.” Snape commented dryly and Harry pulled a face.

“Alright, no final for Potions,” Harry commented and Snape snorted.

“That’s if you can pull it off.” Snape snarled and they lapsed into silence. Harry’s head on the Jones man.

Finally, Harry left the chess lesson, having come close to winning for once, and went up to the common room.

888

Harry crept out of the dormitory with his invisibility cloak shoved under one arm and down into the Common Room. Ginny was lingering in the shadows. No one was up.

“C’mon,” Harry whispered as he slung the cloak of him and Ginny. The Fat Lady snorted in her sleep as they crept out.

“Peeves helping us with this one?” Ginny asked.

“No,” Harry replied quietly.

“Still hard to believe,” Ginny muttered and Harry nodded. Indeed it was hard to believe that Peeves had agreed to help them.

Finally, they reached the Great Hall. They were creeping quietly, especially since Flitch seemed to be on the prowl. Once in the Great Hall, Ginny pulled out a bag of Fred and George’s pranks.

“This’ll work,” Harry muttered, pulling out a certain potion. “Still can’t believe they figured how out to do this one.”

“Sometimes they’re brilliant.” Ginny muttered and dropping the cloak on the Gryffindor house table the two of them set to work. Harry was halfway down the Hufflepuff table with the potion, which he was carefully pouring when suddenly a jolt ran through his body. Ginny tensed and yelped too.

They stared at each other for a minute before realizing what the jolt meant. Snape’s necklaces. They had forgotten about the necklaces since they Snape had yet to use them and they were quite comfortable around their neck.

“Damn,” Ginny mumbled as he rubbed her neck. “Why’d he do that?” Harry shrugged and went back to pouring the potion.

“Must be a warning, it’s almost midnight.” Harry muttered and Ginny nodded. The potion made a hissing noise as it spread out over the tables just loudly enough they couldn’t hear much else.

Just as Harry finished with the Hufflepuff table Harry suddenly felt another jolt that caused him to yelp loudly. Ginny leaped about a foot into the air.

“Why does he keep doing that?” Ginny snarled darkly as she rubbed her neck. Harry shook his head, suddenly regretting that he allowed Snape to put the necklaces on them.

Then he heard it.

A thick grumbling roll of curses and insults and coming straight for them. He dived forward, grabbed hold of Ginny and with a shove threw them both into the shadows. And not a second too late because Flitch came bursting into the Great Hall snarling and grumbling.

“Students out of bed,” Flitch muttered. “They’ll pay this time. Ruddy kids and their pranks. This time I’ll hang ‘em up by their toes and they can’t do a thing about it.” He was looking around with a dark look, almost a deranged one that sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

Flitch then began a search of the Great Hall, looking in almost every corner and shadow for the students. The whole time he grumbled about hanging them by their ears and toes. He seemed so serious; Harry found himself pushed farther and farther back into the shadows, Ginny behind him.

Flitch was a few inches from Harry and Ginny’s hiding place when suddenly the greasy caretaker whipped around.

“Ohh...look it’s filthy Flincher.” Peeves cackled as he dived through the Great Hall as he carried a knight’s helmet. He swooped out the Great Hall doors and with Flitch flying after him.

“That was close,” Ginny shuddered and Harry nodded.

“Peeves helped us,” Harry whispered in disbelief.

“I know, so did Snape. The jolts were a warning of Flitch.” Ginny whispered in about as much disbelief as Harry. The two most unlikely people helping them was something hard to believe.

“C’mon, let’s finish up with this...” Harry muttered.

“He’s deranged? Isn’t he?” Ginny whispered after a pause. She was working on the Slytherin house table.

“Flitch? Yes, and I think after getting what he wanted all his life from Umbridge and then having it taken away made him mad. And that’s in two different ways.” Ginny grinned sheepishly.

“Maybe he won’t be back next year,” Ginny said hopefully.

“Dear Merlin I hope so,” Harry muttered. They worked in silence after that. More aware and using the potion a bit more quietly. Yet, Flitch didn’t come back which was a relief to them.

Midnight had already come and gone and both he and Ginny were still working. They hadn’t realized that the house tables were so long. Finally, around one in the morning they were finished.

“That was a bit more difficult then I thought it would be,” Ginny commented as she sat down on the Gryffindor table. “When will it start working?”

“Breakfast, I think. I’m having Peeves swoop over the Slytherin and Ravenclaw house table, chanting songs but muttering the signaling the password. We’ll handle the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.” Harry yawned.

“You invited Peeves into the Great Hall?” Ginny asked aghast. Harry shrugged. It was a well-known rule that Peeves could only enter the Great Hall if invited and no one did that.

“We made a deal with the pranks,” Harry shrugged helplessly. He sure hoped he didn’t do anything stupid by allowing Peeves into the Great Hall.

Suddenly, the third jolt for that night sent both of them reeling.

“Sure,” Ginny hissed as she glanced around warily. “The one night he decides to use the bloody necklaces he just has to do it a million times. What’s he on about now?”

“I think he wants us to go back to bed,” Harry yawned as he fiddled with the necklace. “How he knows we’re still up is the problem. There must be a locator charm or something on it.”

Ginny shook her head. “We were mental to agree.” Ginny yawned and together, this time with the cloak, they headed back to the Tower.

888

The next morning when Peeves came swooping into the Great Hall, it was a complete frenzy. He dived to and for, chanting and shouting, grabbing food and throwing it. Professors were hollering for him to get out and demanding who invited him in, while Harry crept over to the Hufflepuff table and said the key word.

Ginny eyed him slightly and Harry gave the slightest of nods. He glanced up and found Snape eyeing him too.

“Peeves! Stop this instantly!” McGonagall shouted and no sooner had she shouted it then there was a pop and all of the tables began to crump like a frog does. The potion flashed and carved the word ‘crummp’ all the way across it.

There was another pop and a banner of Umbridge kissing a frog appeared. Everyone howled in laughter and Peeves swooped down, and landed square on Harry’s head, sitting cross legged in his unruly hair.

Everyone was laughing too hard to notice this and Harry didn’t mind because while he and Peeves had been scheming Peeves had sat this way the whole time. Harry got use to it after a minute or so.

“Good one, Potty,” Peeves cackled in Harry’s ear.

“Thanks for drawing Flitch away last night,” Harry muttered back and Peeves chuckled. Yet, the poltergeist didn’t respond.

“Alright, everyone calm down!” McGonagall shouted but she was having a hard time containing her own laughter. After about a good ten minutes of the frog shouting tables, it all died down. Everyone was starting to calm down and they were starting to notice Peeves in Harry’s hair.

“Peeves, out of the Great Hall...now!” McGonagall ordered loudly. “And get out of Mr. Potter’s hair!”

“Oh, but I love this bird-like nest that people claim is Potty’s hair!” Peeves cackled as Harry glowered. Everyone started to laugh, even Snape.

“Out,” McGonagall growled and Peeves jumped up laughing and swooped out of the Great Hall. After that everyone calmed down enough to finish with their food and head to class. Harry just barely caught Ginny as they passed by the Staff table.

“He complimented our joke,” he whispered and Ginny giggled.

“Who would’ve thought,” Ginny giggled as she ran off to Charms and Harry went of to Care of Magical Creatures. Snape hadn’t been lying, the book and his comments turned out to be quite helpful. Actually, very helpful.

As Harry joined Ron and Hermione as they walked outside, he found them talking about the prank.

“Brilliant,” Ron laughed. “I need to write and tell the twins about this. They might be out of a place in history if this keeps up.” Harry just chuckled. He could see the twins comment to Ron’s letter. This was starting to turn into a good week.

888

Snape waited until last minute to get Hermione and Ron together and Harry wasn’t even there. Professor Gary had given him detention so he was stuck with the confused old man while Ron and Hermione truly realized they loved each other. He even missed the final joke which Ginny, Harry and Peeves had spent hours planning.

He was sorting out books, shivering from the unnaturally cold room and listening intently for the joke to be played. Sure enough, there was a large bang and a dozen frogs; all captured or stolen by Peeves and fed Head- Changing-Not-For-The-Good-Way treats were dropped all over the Great Hall.

Soon the castle was overrun by frogs with Umbridge’s head on them. The students took pleasure in blasting the poor frogs and laughing heartily. It was the final joke. What Harry didn’t realize that was somewhere along the blasting of Umbridge frogs, Hermione and Ron started to fight and then Snape stepped in.

“Here, Mr. Potter, drink this,” Professor Gary said, stepping over and handing him a cup of what appeared to be hot coco. When he stepped closer to Harry, Harry suddenly felt an odd chill run over him. Why was this room so cold? Harry thought.

“Err-thanks,” Harry mumbled as Gary looked a bit off to the left, nodded, and retreated back to his stack of parchments. Harry drank the hot coca fast and was instantly relieved to find himself warming up.

After a while, Gary looked up and dismissed Harry.

Harry took off running quickly, and slid into the Great Hall in time to see the Umbridge frogs. Peeves cackled and swooped down so that he was in Harry’s hair again.

“Well, what do you think Potter?” he asked and Harry laughed.

“Brilliant,” Harry commented and grinned a bit more when he realized Peeves wasn’t calling him Potty. Maybe he earned some respect from the poltergeist for asking him to join in on the pranks.

“I know,” Peeves cackled and swooped off to start a chanting song about some second year. Glancing around Harry found Hermione and Ron, holding hands and walking around. He spied Ginny grinning stupidly at them and Snape sulking off.

“What happened?” Harry asked Ginny.

“Snape more or less insulted them about their love. Said he didn’t want their love fights getting in his way while he was trying to walk and Ron demanded to know what he meant. And Snape, in probably the most embarrassing way, pointed it all out. Yet, Ron and Hermione realized it and Ron asked Hermione to the dance.” She giggled. “I guess we forgot to set ground rules for Snape getting them together. Oh well, it worked.”

“Yeah, it did.” Harry smiled as Ron and Hermione blasted a frog together. Ron glanced back at Harry and flushed red when he saw that he was watching.

“Mind you, Ron blasted a frog at Snape for making it so embarrassing and got detention.” Ginny giggled as Ron and Hermione trooped over. “See you.”

“Hey, mate,” Ron said sheepishly as Ginny scampered off after a frog.

“It’s about time you two got together!” Harry more or less shouted. “Took you long enough.”

“You don’t mind?” Hermione asked and Harry shook his head vigorously.

“No, I’ve been waiting for this to happen for quite some time. Now, come on, let’s blast some Umbridge frogs.” Harry laughed as Hermione and Ron looked relieved. He guessed that they were worried about how he would react.

“Alright,” Ron laughed and they set to blasting frogs. McGonagall could be seen a few feet away, also blasting frogs but claiming that they were in her way.

“She said that about one that was on the other side of the hall,” Ginny whispered as she came back. “By the way, I’ve got to warn you...Fred and George have something special planned for you because you got Peeves to help. They claim that was brilliant and should’ve thought of that themselves.”

“Oh great,” Harry mumbled and Ginny grinned darkly.

“At least we get to take off the necklaces tomorrow. I did a count, he zapped us around ten times this whole week.” She rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled.

“Yeah, warning us from obvious danger and reminding us to get to bed. Let’s see him tomorrow, to get him to take it off.” Ginny nodded and blasted a frog.

He was running, but he didn’t know why. Everything around him was all blurred as he sprinted down the corridor and he was cold. Ever so cold. He swung left around a corner and found himself skidding to a halt.

In front of him was something unbelievable. Lying on the ground was Lupin, worn, tired, strained, bloody, wounded, and...and dead. He cried out in fear, in pure horror. No, he thought. Sirius was gone, not Lupin too. He dived forward, his hand groping around for Lupin’s pulse but it wasn’t there.

He was just lying in the middle of the corridor, dead. A wave of cold over came him as he crouched next to his dead friend. “Remus...” Harry moaned trying to shake him awake. He had to wake up! He couldn’t be dead. Yet, as he shook Remus a trickle of blood flowed out of the corner of Remus’s mouth and he knew the man was long gone.

Then a scream jolted him to his senses. He spun around; looking for the reason for the scream and another wave of cold over came him again. Shuddering, he jumped up, closed his eyes tight to rid himself of Remus’s lifeless body, and then took off running. He was following the scream.

As he skidded another corridor he arrived at the Entrance Hall what he saw made him plunged into horror. Standing in the Entrance Hall were all of his friends and several students he didn’t know, and in the middle was Dumbledore and the professors. However, they were surrounded by dementors, and everyone was dropping...even professors.

‘No,’ he shouted and he took off running quickly. He was fumbling with his wand, watching in horror as ten dementors swooped down and grabbed Dumbledore within their billowing robes. He had never heard Dumbledore scream before, but now he did. He screamed as every happy memory was ripped from his body.

His wand was falling out of his grasp. He was trying hard not to fall victim to the horrifying cold. He saw Ron and Hermione, grabbing each other, trying desperately to hold each other up and comfort each other, but they couldn’t last. They abandoned any spell to get rid of the dementors...they were too weak to conjure a patronus.

He had to help them. He could see Neville falling over an already limp form, lost to a world of despair. He shouted again and tried to run forward. McGonagall was trying in vain to pull the dementors off of the Headmaster, whose screams had stopped

He eyed the old man weary. He was weak and limp. He had never seen the man that way...it was horrifying. Then the dementors noticed him and they started to fly at him. He screamed in pain as his memories were whipped from his mind. He stumbled forward, his wand lost from his grip as he rolled the rest of the way down the marble staircase. He landed limply next to someone and glancing over he found it was Ginny.

She looked like Lupin with the exception of the blood. Limp, cold, and gone to the world. He cried out and tried to find a wand, any wand. He didn’t care whose, he just needed a wand.

Then...then, suddenly a figured draped in a black cloak appeared and grabbed him. Grabbed him hard and glancing around he could see Death Eaters, the ones that weren’t captured yet, swarming the school. The one with the black face dived forward and grabbed him by the hair, laughing.

He lifted his head so he could see, and what he saw was death. Students were dropping like flies, Dumbledore, having been engulfed by ten dementors was already gone, and that took all other students sense of security away. And he was forced to watch them all slowly drop into a subdued death.

‘NO!’ he screamed and tried to fight for a wand. Voldemort was gone; this wasn’t supposed to be happening. THEY WERE SAFE. But they weren’t...they never had been. Death Eaters that hadn’t been caught were pissed, angry beyond belief, and they had in their hands a power to get revenge, a way to give the world a taste of the Dark Lord. They weren’t safe, they never had been.

The black cloaked figure hissed darkly in his ear. Telling him to stop...and the voice was familiar. He couldn’t place it though. He had to fight though, get a wand, he couldn’t give it all up because a man in a black cloak.

Then, with one last jerk, his head was brought up and he was forced to watch as the dementors swooped in for their final attack, the deadly kiss. They grabbed everyone, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Justin, Malfoy, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sprout, McGonagall, and everyone else. And they kissed them.

He screamed, screamed out no and tried to find a wand. His body was shaking, but he couldn’t find one. The black cloaked man just chuckled menacingly and thrust his head down so hard that he hit the ground with a crack.....................

CRACK!

Harry slammed right into something and stumbled backwards. His world was spinning and his head was caught in a whirlwind of loss. He just had a nightmare...he knew it, but he couldn’t place his finger on what happened. Something bad...yes, something bad and wrong and horrifying...but he couldn’t remember.

He shuddered darkly. He glanced around, desperately and realized he wasn’t even in Gryffindor Tower anymore. No, he was in some corridor, lying flat on the ground with a bloody nose from running straight into a wall. His was sweating like mad and it was drenched in cold sweat.

He shuddered again.

Then there were footsteps and Harry glanced around. To his horror his neck suddenly gave a violent jolt and Harry tried not to yell out. He clamped his hand on the necklace that Snape had tied around his next. He hadn’t gotten it taken off since that week; actually he had forgotten he was wearing it.

When he and Ginny had gone down to his office he wasn’t there, and whenever they tried for the next two days he was never there. So, in a way they had both forgotten. That had almost been a month and a half ago. And it had been a month and a half that Harry had been having weird dreams. Never so long and frightening, but nightmares nonetheless. He had, however, never walked out of the Tower before.

Harry was trying to climb to his feet, taking the jolting necklace as a warning, but they collapsed out from under him. It was too late anyway. The footsteps were on him in a matter of seconds.

A brittle hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him to his feet. He turned around to find himself face to face with Professor Gary.

“What are you doing out of bed?” the man demanded. Harry was surprised to see he was looking straight at him. Usually he was looking to the left.

“Sleepwalking,” Harry mumbled. There was no other explanation. He had to have been sleepwalking.

“Hmm...well get back to your Tower and I won’t take points off. And get that nose looked at...what’d you do? Run into a wall?” Gary looked odd as he stared at Harry and Harry found it uncomfortable. “Run along,” he suddenly ordered, giving Harry a bit of a push.

“Err—alright,” Harry mumbled. He picked at the necklace as he stumbled away. Why was Snape warning him of Gary? Or did he just think Harry was out and getting into trouble again? Harry didn’t get to talk to Snape much. They had to cancel the Chess Lessons because of all the things Snape was doing and because of all of Harry’s homework. It appeared all the teachers had put off the homework until the end of the year.

Once he was back in the Gryffindor Common Room, he found Peeves waiting for him, hanging upside down. Harry thought for a moment he saw the oddest flash of relief and concern on the poltergeist’s face, but he was surely mistaken.

“Potter,” was all Peeves said before taking off and not a second too soon because Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all came stumbling down the boy’s dormitory stairs toward him.

“Where have you been?” Ron demanded just as Harry opened to ask his friends about Peeves.

“Sleepwalking, how’d you know I was gone?” Harry said instead.

“Ginny,” said Hermione. “She came scampering into my room, saying we needed to check on you and then ran off. Did you have another nightmare?”

“Yes, and this time I ended up halfway through the school. Professor Gary found me. He’s different at night, he doesn’t look left.” But his friends shook off those last words and instantly demanded to know about the nightmare. Harry couldn’t tell them much, because he didn’t remember much.

However, soon they were all sitting in the Common Room, struck in a deep silence.

“You never sleepwalked before when you had nightmares...why now?” Ron muttered and Harry shrugged. Ron had caught Harry several times sleepwalking out of the dormitory. Hermione walked over and cuddled with Ron.

“The necklace woke me,” Ginny whispered in Harry’s ear.

“He hasn’t used it in almost a month and a half now and then he just randomly does.” Harry muttered. “Don’t know why...I wasn’t getting into trouble and Gary’s hardly worth a warning. You think he just muttered the word in his sleep?”

“I hope not because I don’t like being jolted out of my sleep. It was horrifying because I couldn’t remember I was wearing it. I swear next time I catch him alone, he’s taking it off. A week was too long, but a month and a half!” She sat down in annoyance and looked around. Harry had a feeling they weren’t going to leave the Common Room tonight.

He stared into the fire, trying to make sense of the nightmare but it was too jumbled up. He liked it better when they were just usual nightmares, he could remember them and he wasn’t sleepwalking into walls.

Sighing, he glanced around and found Ron and Hermione asleep and curled into one another and Ginny lying comfortably on the couch. Harry knew he wouldn’t get to sleep anytime soon so there was no point trying.

888

Morning arrived quickly and Harry woke up his friends before their classmates could walk in on them. Ron grunted and tried to punch Harry but his friend dodged and went to take a shower.

Finally, they were walking groggily into the Great Hall for breakfast. In the Entrance Hall Harry paused and had an uncomfortable feeling as he glanced around. He shuddered. It was something to do with the nightmare that much he was sure of.

All day Harry was having a hard time concentrating on anything. Transfiguration was a complete disaster when Harry accidentally transformed his rat into an alligator head instead of an owl. McGonagall was not pleased but Ron found it hilarious.

On his way to Potions he found himself behind the others. A small boy was whimpering because his bag was torn and his parchment and quills were everywhere. Harry glanced ahead, found his friends already gone and paused to help him.

“You OK?” Harry asked, not bothering to see what house he was in.

“I’m going to be late and lose House Points and Professor Snape’s going to kill me. He said if I lost any more house points today I’d be in detention for a week.” The boy whimpered and Harry raised an eyebrow. He glanced up for the first time and realized that he was in Slytherin.

“Oh? And how many house points have you lost today?” Harry asked in a conversational tone.

“Around seventy,” Harry started a bit and corked his eyebrow higher.

“How’d you do that?” Harry demanded and the boy flushed.

“I yelled at a Professor, Professor Binns to be exact, he was getting something wrong, something I would know...about Norway...and I tried to correct him. He wouldn’t listen so I shouted at him.” The Slytherin boy grinned sheepishly and Harry chuckled.

“Well that should be marked done as a good deed, that ghost hasn’t been corrected in years and if he needed a correction the ones able to do so were always asleep. Here...” he reached forward, took the boy’s bag and muttered a spell to re-sew it.

“Thanks,” he gasped and Harry nodded. And for the first time the boy glanced at him properly. Seeing that he was Gryffindor, at least not Harry Potter, was surprising.

“Get to class, take all shortcuts and if the teacher asks, say Harry Potter can vouch for why you’re late. And if they ask where I was going, say Snape’s. They can’t argue that.” Harry smiled and the boy in a bit of numb surprised nodded, muttered incoherently and took off running.

“Sometimes Potter, I don’t understand you.” A drawling voice commented and Harry glanced up to Malfoy standing in the shadows.

“Malfoy,” Harry snarled a bit and made to get up. “Just helping him, he looked like he was about to cry. And detentions from Snape aren’t fun.”

“I know, Potter.” Malfoy snarled. “I’m just a bit surprised that you helped him...guess it’s something to do with your good-boy side.” Harry snarled darkly and Malfoy cackled.

“I just figured he needed some help nothing with being a good-boy.” Harry swung around and made to walk off.

“Wait! Potter!” Malfoy called out and rather reluctantly Harry turned back toward him.

“What?” Harry demanded. “I’m going to be late and I’m not up for a duel right now.” That was when Harry realized Malfoy’s usual bodyguards weren’t flanking him.

“Nothing,” Malfoy snapped again and Harry raised an eyebrow. The blonde boy made to step past him but Harry blocked him.

“Tell me, we’re already late, might as well make it worth it to face Snape’s wrath.” Harry muttered and for a minute he thought he saw Malfoy’s lips twitch into a smile.

“I’m just having problems,” Malfoy admitted surprising Harry.

“Well, I’m no help...I have enough of my own.” Harry said but Malfoy shook his head.

“I wouldn’t come to you anyway Potter, not about these...” he trailed off, adverting his eyes. Harry was surprised to see Malfoy this way. He must be bothered, if he was willing to talk to Harry Potter about it.

“Then why are we talking like this in the corridor, almost five minutes late for Potions?” Harry demanded snidely. Almost like Snape.

“I’ve seen you...you go to Snape.” Harry raised an eyebrow angrily.

“Spying, eh? So you can go off and tell you father about the traitor Death Eater and the bloody Boy-Who-Lived!” Harry snarled, again in a Snape-like manner. Malfoy glared and for a second Harry saw something flash through the boy’s eyes at the mention of his father. Somewhere inside of Harry, it dawned on him. This was about Malfoy and his father. How odd.

“I knew I shouldn’t’ve even tried,” Malfoy muttered darkly. “Little Potty can’t get passed anything can he? You and you mudblood, muggle loving friends just can’t do anything.”

“Don’t talk about my friends that way, Malfoy!” Harry snapped.

“Why not, it’s true!” Malfoy hollered back and Harry glared. It was true, with Malfoy, he and his friends couldn’t see past what they’ve grown to know of him.

“It’s the same with you,” Harry muttered and Malfoy for a few wild seconds looked about ready to curse Harry, then he just nodded. “Fine, then, you obviously have a problem that you want my help with somehow...so let’s make a deal. A truce...for now. A starting over point...just for this brief moment in time and afterward not a word of this conversation is mentioned. Ok?”

Malfoy studied Harry for a minute. “Why? Why must you help so much?”

“You came to me,” Harry pointed out with a sheepishly shrug.

“Fine, but only because we’ll never breath a word of this again.” Harry nodded and struck out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry Potter, nice to meet you.” Malfoy growled a bit but took the hand anyway and shook it.

“Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you too.” Malfoy said politely.

“Now, you have a problem with you father...how may I assist you?” Harry asked in a mock, almost secretary voice. Malfoy tried to hide an amused smile.

“H-how’d you know it was about my father?” Malfoy asked and Harry shrugged.

“Saw the flash in your eyes...so?” Harry prompted while Malfoy studied him closely.

“Again, I’ve seen you go to Snape,” he pause but Harry made no comment. “And you get help from him.” Harry nodded a bit. “H-how do you do that?” Harry started and couldn’t help but gap.

“Are you serious? I mean, he’s your Head of House, can’t you just go in and talk to him?” Harry asked and Malfoy shook his head.

“That’s just it; he’s my Head of House. Head of Slytherin! Slytherins don’t have problems or weaknesses.” Malfoy snarled and Harry laughed. “Stow it!” the blonde boy snarled and Harry tried to calm down.

“It’s just...what the hell do you mean Slytherins don’t have problems or weaknesses? You’re human! All humans have those things. Who cares what house you’re in! Doesn’t mean a damn thing when it comes to problems!” Harry informed and Malfoy’s eyes widened a bit and then went back to normal. Obviously he hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Listen, Draco Malfoy, it doesn’t matter what house you’re in. If you’ve got a problem, and need to talk about it...go to someone. I know Snape’s...a bit hard to approach...trust me on that...but he’ll help. And knowing you...you’re probably exactly like I am when it comes to needing help. Don’t want it, but need it, so go to the one person who won’t be motherly, wrong, or annoying...”

“Go to Snape,” Malfoy grinned this time. A real grin as he caught Harry’s flow of word. “Are you sure? He won’t...won’t mind?” Harry had never seen Malfoy so insecure and unsure.

“He helped me, the bane of his existence, I’m sure he’ll be more then willingly to help a Slytherin. Plus, now he’s use to it, so when you go to him...he won’t be shocked.” Harry grinned sheepishly. He could still Ginny’s description of Snape’s shock when she walked in looking for help. “Listen,” Harry said still seeing Malfoy’s disbelief. He could understand it...this was a Slytherin seeking help, not common, from Snape, another obscure thing. It was amazing Ginny, and the others have done it. Harry still hadn’t talked to Snape about too much.

“Listen,” Harry said again. “Just try it...the worst that will happen is a jar of newts will fly at you and you’re a Quidditch player so I’m sure you’ll be able to dodge it.” Harry grinned and Malfoy shook his head.

“If this is what you’re always like with your friends, I can understand why they’re always fighting.” Malfoy muttered.

“That’s my job,” Harry muttered sarcastically. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Malfoy let alone it staying civil. Malfoy must’ve realized this too judging by the sudden look on his face.

“Alright, I’ll go to him...but if he throws two jars and I get hit by the second one, I’m hunting you done. And if he kills me, I’m haunting you.” Harry grinned and nodded.

“Deal,” Harry said and with that he made to leave but the blonde boy stopped him.

“Listen, knowing that this conversation will be forgotten once we get to the classroom, I feel I can be a bit out of character and say I’m sorry...for all the insults to your friends. It’s just hard to resist and you and Weasley anger so easily.” Malfoy grinned wickedly and Harry gaped. Malfoy just apologized to him. Not that it matter too much because this conversation would be forgotten, but in a way it wouldn’t.

“Right, and sorry that I’m such a git sometimes. I can’t vouch for Ron though.” Malfoy nodded and together they headed toward Potions, fifteen minutes late. They accepted the apologizes, though they knew they wouldn’t effect their attitude in the future toward each other.

“Just talk to him...you’ll be surprised. He’ll listen.” Harry muttered and Malfoy nodded.

“This conversation never happened,” Malfoy murmured and Harry nodded. “Who should go in first? If we go in at the same time...” he trailed off and Harry nodded.

“I’ll go in second, wait five minutes so it’ll look that we were nowhere near each other.” Malfoy nodded thankfully and waited until Harry had rounded the corner out of sight before slipping in. Snape didn’t yell or comment.

Harry was a bit surprised by the conversation, truth be told. He never thought Malfoy had it in him. Though he remember those brief seconds in the robe shop before first year when he and Malfoy had talked civilly. It had was mostly house rivalries that did it really. And house prejudice. He wondered what it would’ve been like if he had been put in Slytherin. How different things would’ve been.

Finally, five minutes passed and Harry walked toward the Potions classroom, to his doom. Snape would be furious, and he was.

“Mr. Potter do you not have a watch, a sense of time, or for that matter ears!” Snape snarled when he walked in. “You’re around twenty minutes late to class! I don’t even want to hear the excuse. It’ll be dribble and lies anyway. Detention with McGonagall and forty points from Gryffindor, double the minutes you were late.” He paused, his face pure venom. “Well, are you just waiting for more attention and fame to knock down the door? Get to work. The Golden Boy doesn’t get to out of work for any reason.”

Harry glowered; he hated it when Snape called him Golden Boy or talked to him about his fame. Whipping around, he retreated to the back of the classroom, next to Ron. Malfoy caught his eye and for a lingering moment their truce was there and Malfoy’s face was apologetic. It clearly said that he should’ve come in second.

But that was only a lingering second and it was replaced with the usual taunting, smug face. “Potty and his fame,” he snarled and his Slytherins sniggered.

“Mate, where’d you get to?” Ron hissed as Snape began to stalk the classroom.

“I was helping a student with his bags and then...I lost track of time.” Harry finished of lamely and Hermione shot him a suspicious look.

“You just shouldn’t’ve come...just skived off. Would’ve been better then detention and lost house points.” Ron muttered as Snape stalked by.

“Nah,” Harry shook his head and Ron muttered mental before slinking off to get some more ingredients. Hermione crept over.

“Malfoy was late too,” she pointed out.

“Do I truly care?” Harry asked and Hermione shrugged.

“Malfoy’s never late, nor are you. And the one day you’re late, he’s late. Did you to get in a fight?” she demanded. “You only came in five minutes apart.” Harry was aware of Snape pausing behind them and Malfoy tensing up before them.

“Hermione, I didn’t even see Malfoy. So what if he’s late and I’m late. Snape’s right, I need a bloody watch. I started to think and wander and lost myself.” Hermione corked an eyebrow and Malfoy relaxed. So much from absolute trust from the boy about their conversation.

“Think about what?” Hermione demanded. Harry searched for a suitable answer. One that she would believe. He opened his mouth to say school work and realized that that wouldn’t work.

“The nightmare,” Harry informed and Hermione sighed.

“Harry you don’t remember it, and you’ve been having them everyday so far. It’s probably the same thing as the others. Try not to dwell.” Hermione lectured.

“That’s just it ‘Mione! It isn’t the same. This one was longer, and it struck closer to home then somewhere in the desert. This one was here, at Hogwarts, I’m sure of it! And it was different. I never sleepwalk that far, and I remember shoving my head down into the ground just as I ran into the wall!” Hermione grounded her teeth slightly.

“I don’t know, Harry. Why now? Why are you having nightmares now? It just doesn’t make sense. You haven’t had any for a long time and suddenly you’re having them. Yet, the only one you think matters, is the only one you can’t remember!” Hermione frowned and looked her Potion.

Beside her, Harry began to sway. He just caught a thick smell of unicorn hair which if smelled too closely by someone especially distracted and tired, caused that one person to faint.

“Lupin’s here, he came yesterday but you were at Quidditch. You should speak to him. I think he came to talk to you. He can help you with these nightmares, and Professor Snape might be able to help you with sleepwalking. It isn’t safe you for to sleepwalk around the castle.”

“We thought we were safe, but we’re not.” Harry murmured under his breath as he swayed a bit more. His potion was slipping in and out of focus.

“What are you talking about, Harry, we’re safe.” Hermione snapped.

“They’re kissing them all,” Harry mumbled and Hermione started.

“What?” she was too involved in her potion to look up at the moment and if she had she would’ve seen Harry slipped out of consciousness and fall head first into his potion. There was a splash, but Snape who was talking to a Slytherin a few rows over, and Ron and Neville who were arguing and Hermione who was involved in her potion didn’t notice that Harry was drowning in his potion.

Then, suddenly, Peeves came swooping in. Snape straightened up and hollered at the poltergeist.

“Stop breaking my wards and get out, Peeves!” Snape hollered but Peeves paid him no heed. He swooped forward and with a twirling somersault, he grabbed the drowning Harry by his hair and jerked him backwards.

Everyone stared as Peeves saved Harry’s life. They weren’t sure which was more of a shock: Peeves saving Harry’s life, or the fact that Harry’s life had been in danger and they were oblivious to it. Malfoy acted first, he dived forward and with his wand cleaned Harry’s face of the potion and then Snape flew forward, grabbed Harry as Peeves dropped him.

“Granger and Malfoy, you’re in charge while I’m gone!” Snape declared and he took off. Except he didn’t go to the Hospital Wing, Harry wouldn’t live long enough to get there, no he dived into his personal chambers and dumped Harry on his bed.

Before flooing Madame Pomfrey, telling her to get there, and then setting to work on Harry himself. The boy had been drowning a clogging potion and his breath was no longer coming.

Yet, as Snape labored over Harry, Harry was caught in another nightmare. The same one as the night before...the one with the dementors. Yet, this time when his head was bashed into the ground, he didn’t wake up. No, the black cloaked figure left him moaning on the floor to go sort out some other things and Harry turned.

.........

There were the dungeons doors and he knew he had to go into them. Something was pulling him down there and he had to go down there. His head was reeling, the soulless bodies seemed to be swimming, but he had to get into the dungeons for some reason.

He pulled himself up, and began to walk, oblivious to everyone and everything that drifted by him. No one seemed to notice him and as he reached the dungeons he felt an odd chill.

A chill of foreboding crossed him as he stumbled into the dungeons but he kept walking. He would later wish he had never walked down there. For as he turned a corner, he saw something so horrifying that he was frozen to the spot, and a horrified scream escaped him.........

Harry sat up quickly, catching himself in mid-scream, drenched in cold sweat, and choking for breath. Arms instantly grabbed him and pulled him back down. With a jolt, Harry realized he didn’t have a clue of where he was.

Lupin was pushing him back down in the bed, with a sad face, and the gloomy room had dancing shadows.

“Harry...Harry are you OK?” Lupin asked and Harry nodded mutely. He had a nightmare again, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Something horrifying though.

“W-where am I?” Harry crooked and Lupin smiled grimly.

“Professor Snape’s chambers,” he chuckled slightly at Harry’s face. “You passed out into your clogging potion and wouldn’t’ve made it to the Hospital Wing...so Professor Snape brought you in here. You’ve been out for almost a whole day. Gave us all a fright.”

“I-I passed out into my clogging potion?” Harry echoed and Lupin nodded grimly.

“Yes, are you okay? Don’t feel clogged anywhere do you?” Harry shook his head and Lupin sighed in relief.

“When’d you come?” Harry asked, a smiled creeping his face. It was good to see Lupin again.

“Last night, but you were at Quidditch practice. Here on a special request for Dumbledore. Trust me; it wasn’t good being told that you passed out into your clogging potion. A bit horrifying really.” Lupin’s face looked pained. “Why were you screaming?”

“I had a nightmare, but I can’t remember what it’s about.” Lupin shrugged a bit in a way that said not to dwell on it, but Harry couldn’t help but dwell.

Harry opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the doors to the room opened in bolted Hermione, Ginny and Ron, followed by a glowering Snape.

“Oh good! You’re awake!” Hermione cried out and she dived onto Harry in a tight hug.

“Let go, ‘Mione!” Harry cried out muffled and Ron pried her off.

“Hey, mate, good to see you awake.” Ron smiled and Harry nodded back. Snape glanced between them, his face pulled a disgusted look and Lupin catching this jumped up.

“Let’s—err—go Severus and get some food.” Lupin suggested and before Snape could respond, Lupin dragged him out.

“Mate, you won’t believe what happened!” Ron declared once Snape and Lupin were gone.

“You passed out into you clogging potion,” Hermione began. “And no one noticed!”

“Then, Peeves came swooping in and dragged out. You were drowning.” Ron commented.

“Then, Malfoy dived forward and cleaned you face of the potion so no more could get in. And Snape took action.” Hermione concluded and Harry blinked.

“I don’t know which is more odd...Peeves saving you, Malfoy helping, or Snape allowing you to use his chambers.” Ron said dazedly and Harry shrugged, not knowing which either. But in a way, he’d have to say Peeves. Ginny seemed to think the same thing, but she didn’t say anything.

They talked of everything else beside the incident and they would’ve kept talking if Snape hadn’t stalked back in and sent them scampering. Once they were gone, it was only Snape and Harry left.

“Err—thanks for helping me,” Harry mumbled and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Drink this Mr. Potter,” he ordered and without a question Harry drank the potion he was given. Snape then sat on the edge of bed and studied Harry closely. “You were having a nightmare.” It wasn’t a question. “Care to enlighten me on what it was about?”

“I don’t remember,” Harry mumbled. “Only bits and pieces and even those are blurred.”

“How long have you been having nightmares?”

“Why do you ask?” Harry asked wonderingly.

“There’s only one way you could’ve passed out from smelling unicorn hair, and that’s not enough sleep. And you were having a fit in here earlier. No other way to explain it.” Snape snarled.

“I’ve been having nightmares for almost a month and a half now.” Harry muttered sleepily.

“Why didn’t you come for a dreamless sleeping potion?” Snape demanded and Harry shrugged. It really hadn’t crossed his mind. “Hmm...nightmares for such a long time. Sleepwalk any?”

“You should know,” Harry mumbled and Snape raised his eyebrow.

“How so?” he demanded dryly.

“Last night...well my last night...you...” but Harry trailed off as Snape moved a bit so that the light reflected off of him differently. Harry’s mind whirled for a moment and terror flooded through him. Snape must’ve caught this look.

“Potter!” Snape said curtly as Harry seemed to slip dazedly between thoughts. “Potter!”

“H-how is it possible?” Harry mumbled.

“What?” Snape demanded hotly.

“Y-you’re part dementor...” Harry mumbled and Snape’s face paled and wide in horror. “How’s that possible...it’s not...but you are.” Snape was trembling but Harry didn’t know why. How could someone be part dementor?

“H-how’d you find out?” Snape demanded and Harry blinked.

“It c-can’t be true...no...it can’t. Not possible.” Harry was dazed and in a flash Snape had him by the front of his robes.

“How’d you know?” he hollered and Harry winced. Snape’s eyes flashed darkly and the temperature dropped a bit.

“How can you be?” Harry asked again.

“I’m not part...stupid boy. Dark lord liked to invent things with potions, and he made me drink one potion. It gave me Dementor traits, but not in the way the Dark lord wanted it too. I’m not part dementor...I just have some traits that I can call up...how’d you find out. NOT EVEN THE HEADMASTER KNOWS!” Snape shouted but that was too much for Harry to handle. He passed out.

Snape dropped him back on the bed and buried his head into his hands.

“Damn Voldemort!” he snarled. “And his experiments!” Snape hollered and Harry winced slightly. It had just been a potion, Voldemort tried his potions on everyone, and Snape was no exception. The Dark Lord wanted to make a human dementor, so he tested his first experiment on Snape, because Snape had said it wasn’t a smart idea.

But it didn’t turn Snape into a human dementor; it just gave him traits of a dementor. Potions like that weren’t unknown; people took them to get traits of vampire, dragons, goblins, giants, anything. Snape just now carried a few dementor traits, but he didn’t suck out people’s souls or steal happy thoughts. He just had some traits...some that him in bad moods or very weak periods everything very cold and his face could hollow out darkly.

It was his belief that Sebastian Jones also had these traits and more, those giving him leverage over the dementors. To the dementors, Snape was a worthless one that needed to be killed. He would be slaughtered in Azkaban.

Now...now, Harry knew...the one person in the world he didn’t want his secret known to. He liked it better when people thought of him as vampire or something.

But Harry knew. What’s going to happen now? And for the first time in a long time Snape cried. He didn’t like to think about the traits, they weren’t him, they were just a potion. But it almost too much to even know that he had dementor traits.

Unknown to him, Harry had slowly came back to reality and he watched, rather dazedly as Snape cried. He knew he should’ve done something, but he couldn’t...not knowing what he knew. It was too horrifying.

Slowly, the potion Snape gave him took over and he drifted back asleep.

Next time Harry woke up he was the Hospital Wing and the morning sunlight was creeping in. For a minute it took Harry a while to figure out why he was in the Hospital Wing and how he got there.

And then he remembered.

Snape had dementor traits! An unnatural wave of terror spread over Harry as he realized that. He remembered Snape shifting in the light and his face for the briefest of moments reflected the human looking dementor in his nightmare and when Snape freaked, grabbed his robes in flash of anger the temperature in the room dropped. Harry shuddered. How was it possible that Snape had dementor traits?

Then Harry remembered seeing Snape crying. Why was he crying? Harry’s head was reeling in circles, everything was too confusing. It didn’t seem possible that someone could have traits of another being, especially dementor traits.

“Oh good you’re awake,” Madame Pomfrey said bustling over.

“How’d I get in here?” Harry asked and Madame Pomfrey raised her eyebrow.

“Snape said he wanted his chambers back and since you were better...he brought you in here.” Madame Pomfrey chortled slightly. “You’re free to go,” she declared with a wave of her hand.

Harry paused, did she know about Snape? No, he realized. Snape said that no one knew about him. Now Harry did. What was going to happen? Harry shook his head slightly and left. Of all the people he had to discover a secret about, it had to be Snape and his deepest one. Harry shuddered slightly. Dementor traits, it wasn’t possible.

Hermione was perched on the marble stairs in the Entrance Hall when Harry exited the Hospital Wing.

“Harry!” Hermione squealed when she saw him. “What are you doing in the Hospital Wing...I thought you were...” she trailed off slightly and corked her eyebrows up. Harry shrugged.

“Guess he wanted his bed back,” Harry said sheepishly.

“Well, it doesn’t matter; you’ve got a lot of homework to catch up on! Let’s get to the library.” Hermione ordered and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Joy to the world!” he muttered sarcastically.

“Come, you’ve got loads of Potions homework, you missed a double period, and Arithmancy, and transfiguration...” she trailed onward with a thick description of all the classes and homework, but Harry found he couldn’t concentrate on her words. His mind kept wandering to Snape.

As he walked up the marble stairs he caught a flash of black and he turned in time to see a quickly retreating Snape. He shuddered and sighed a bit. Why did he always have to find out things?

The rest of the day passed in a blur as Harry poured over his homework and tried his hardest not to concentrate on Snape. At one point though, his concentration broke and he got up, found a book on potion oddities and found that it was indeed possible to get traits from other creatures.

Vampires and werewolves were the most usual, keen eyesight and strength, but there was nothing about dementors. Yet, now that he thought back to it, Snape had said something about the Voldemort’s experiments. If you could give a person vampire traits, it wasn’t completely impossible to give someone dementor traits. Especially if it was Voldemort’s idea.

Yet that knowledge didn’t help Harry feel any better. The mere fact that he wasn’t wrong and that Snape was indeed like a dementor was horrifying. It made sense though, for when Snape was angry, peeved, in a dark mood, didn’t the dungeons always seem to be colder and suddenly drop in temperature. And how many times had Harry seen Snape’s eye flash in anger.

Again Harry found himself shuddering and Hermione glanced up.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“Yeah, just thinking that’s all.” Harry mumbled.

“Has something happened between you and Professor Snape?” she asked quietly.

“Why?” Harry asked quickly, a bit too quickly. Hermione corked her eyebrow again. Harry was starting to think that they were around Snape too much because they seemed to have perfected Snape’s way of corking the eyebrow.

“Because he seems to be avoiding you,” Hermione pointed out.

“I just woke up,” Harry pointed out and Hermione shook her head.

“He walked into the Entrance Hall, spotted you and walked out quickly. And he just walked into the Library, spotted you and walked right back out.” Harry moaned and buried his head into his hands. This was too much. Snape was avoiding him and Harry was suddenly horrified of Snape. “Harry?”

“It’s nothing...really.” Harry couldn’t tell Hermione, he couldn’t tell anyone. First, it was too horrifying to him, let alone telling his friends. Second, he was sure Snape would kill him for even daring to mention it to anyone. Third, it was Snape’s secret, Harry had learned enough over the years to respect secrets.

Hermione pursed her lips but decided to drop it. Harry took one last glance at the book of potion transferring traits and without truly realizing it; he shoved it into the pile to check-out.

888

Potions was a hard lesson. It took all of Harry’s willpower not to just skive off and even more when he realized Snape wasn’t in a great mood. Malfoy was eyeing Harry oddly, as if expecting him to suddenly burst into flame.

Actually that had been happening since Harry woke up. First, Harry thought it was just because word had gotten out that he was roomed in Snape’s chambers while healing but instead it turned out it was all about Peeves. Apparently people found it unnervingly weird that Peeves saved his life.

Peeves had yet to confront Harry about what he done; actually he seemed to be on the opposite side of the school of wherever Harry was. Ginny said that Peeves didn’t know what to do or say. And to redeem himself for his good deed, Peeves apparently was making the most of everything and anything. Becoming more of a nuisance.

“What?” Harry snapped as a Ravenclaw girl stared at him with wide eyes. He was getting sick of people staring at him. Hermione clucked her tongue in annoyance at Harry’s attitude while Ron shot the girl a glare.

“It’s Peeves, he does to a point...a very faraway point...have feelings. Obviously those arose for Harry, don’t know why though.” Ron said and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Thanks Ron, that’s a big help!” Harry snarled sarcastically. Ron just shrugged hopelessly that said that that was the only excuse he could come up with.

Snape was eyeing them all, except Harry, he was almost desperately avoiding Harry’s gaze, which was fine by the boy. Harry found himself suddenly very wary of the man.

“Turn in your homework,” he ordered and there was a scramble of movement as everyone dug for their homework. Harry pulled out his while hiding a yawn. He was having worse nightmares, but they were normal except for the problem of Snape and his frightening appearance was in all of them. He was starting to loath nightmares.

“Harry!” Hermione snapped and Harry flushed. “You said you didn’t have a nightmare last night!”

“I—err—didn’t,” Harry said helplessly.

“You’re a horrible lair, Harry,” Hermione snapped. “Plus, you’re yawning like mad. What was it about?”

“The usual stuff,” Harry mumbled and Ron, who had been listening in, looked over.

“As in? Harry you haven’t told us about one of your nightmares for the past week!” Ron snapped and Snape drifted over.

“Talking in class?” he said snidely.

“Sorry, Professor,” Hermione said hurriedly and Snape corked an eyebrow.

“Truly, talking in my class and you’re sorry? What were you talking about?” he demanded darkly as Hermione flushed red.

“Err—Harry?” Ron prompted.

“We were talking about my—err—nightmares.” Harry mumbled, not daring to look at Snape. He buried himself in his potion.

“Is that a truly appropriate? Talking of nightmares in my class?” he demanded snidely. Harry felt a bit of relief flood through him when he realized that Snape was acting about as normally as he usually did.

“No sir,” Harry responded hurriedly. “Hermione just doesn’t seem to know when to leave one alone,” Harry shot Hermione a dark look and Hermione glared back.

“When you go sleepwalking into walls, I feel we deserve to know what you’re dreaming about.” Hermione retorted and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Told you, I can’t remember!” Harry lied.

“No,” Ron said slowly. “You remember, because when you don’t you’re dazed looking when you wake up.”

“I spend way too much time with you guys,” Harry muttered as he made to leave to get ingredients. At the ingredients cabinet he suddenly felt someone behind him. Before he could react, something was pressed into his shoulder.

“I can understand if you don’t trust me,” Snape whispered in his ear. “But this will get rid of the nightmares.” With that he swept away and Harry found a Dreamless Sleeping potion in his hand. He looked at it a moment and then put it into his robes.

He turned in time to see Snape blow up at Neville for making a potion that if it blew up would cause severe damage to everyone in the room. As Harry swept by he felt a distinct drop in the temperature and closed his eyes tight to ignore it. Usually he wouldn’t have noticed it but now that he knew...it was all too obvious.

Snape must’ve sensed him passing because if it was possible the man seemed to shrink away from Harry.

Finally the lesson was over and Harry was free for the night. He caught up with Lupin in the corridor and they chatted away happily. Hermione and Ron dropped by for a while but slipped off after a while to go do ‘perfect’ duty. Harry shared one knowing look with Lupin and they both had to look away to stifle their laughter.

“So Harry, how’s Arithmancy going?” Lupin asked and Harry shrugged.

“Okay, I guess. Nervous about the O.W.L though.” Lupin sat forward with a smile and before Harry knew it Lupin was quizzing him in everything he knew of Arithmancy. Hermione had been a big help lately, even Luna, so he was able to get through all of Lupin’s questions with only a few errors.

Finally, Harry got up and left Lupin’s corridors. It was a bit after curfew but Harry didn’t care too much. And it turned out the only Prefect he met was Malfoy, who just pointedly ignored him as if he wasn’t there.

“Err-Malfoy,” Harry called back and the blonde boy paused. He didn’t turn though. “Thanks for helping when I fell into the clogging potion.” Malfoy did the vaguest of nods in recognition and kept walking.

The castle seemed to be getting decidedly colder as Harry walked back to the tower. He was shivering slightly, his memory drifting to Snape slightly but he shook his head. He thought back to what Snape had said earlier.

Did he still trust Snape?

“Potter?” Harry spun around to see Professor Gary leaning against the doorframe of his classroom. “What are you doing?” He was staring vaguely over Harry’s left shoulder.

“Err—just going back to the Tower,” Harry shrugged. He watched as Gary’s eyes twitched slightly, as if directing something. Harry glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing.

“Good, good, get to bed Potter,” Gary said offhandedly.

“G’night,” Harry mumbled and he turned around. For a minute he felt as if he had walked through a ghost but he shook his head to rid himself of the feeling. Behind him Gary did an odd cluck with his tongue, but when Harry glanced over his shoulder Gary was walking away.

“Mental,” Harry muttered.

Later, Harry found himself crawling into bed, Ron already there and snoring like mad. Harry shook his head and reached out to fiddle with the potion Snape gave him. He wasn’t sure at first, but Snape just wouldn’t do something like that would he? Just poison him. Maybe it was to make him forget.

For a brief minute, Harry didn’t mind if he forgot what he knew.

Then, Peeves swooped in and dangled before him. Harry started at first and then raised an eyebrow.

“You saved me,” Harry said bluntly.

“I did,” cackled Peeves.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled slightly and Peeves shook his head.

“I still owe you, Potter, I still owe you.” Peeves said in an oily voice.

“What?” Harry gasped. “What the hell do you mean you owe me? You’ve never owed me!”

“Oh but Potter, I did and I do.” And before Harry could demand an explanation Peeves swooped off. Sighing, Harry looked one last time at the potion, rolled his eyes and gulped it down.

He collapsed back into his bed and fell asleep heavily.

888

The next morning Harry woke with a start and one glance at the clock he realized he was late for class. Horrified, Harry jumped to his feet, dressed hurriedly, and took off running.

He was running down the corridors quickly, not running into anyone or anything. He was flying to History of Magic, not bothering to slow down but sprinting.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that this was familiar. As if he had done this before. A sickening feeling over washed him as he rounded another corner.

And to his horror, and with a sickening jolt, his worst nightmare came true. Remus Lupin was lying on the floor, bleeding and barely breathing. He wasn’t dead though, like he had been in the nightmare, but he was seconds from dying.

“Lupin,” Harry whispered as he shook the man. “Remus wake up!” he ordered but Lupin just moaned and rolled over a bit. Harry felt tears streaming down his face. “Remus you can’t die, you can’t leave me. I just loss Sirius, I can’t loss you too!” Harry sobbed but Lupin didn’t respond.

And then there was a scream. An earth shattering scream that jolted Harry. He climbed to his feet, another wave of something familiar about all this washed over him. And he shuddered darkly.

With one last glance at Lupin, he took off running toward the scream. In a matter of seconds he was skidding to a halt at the top of marble staircase. To his horror, he watched as a swarm of dementors swarmed into the Entrance Hall and as Professors ushered students into safety while spouting out patronus.

He began to run down the stairs, fumbling with his wand as he saw Death Eaters, not many but enough, swarming in after the dementors. There was an odd glimmer about them that startled Harry. That glimmer, he just knew it, was protecting them from the effects of the dementors.

A hand grabbed Harry was he ran down the staircase and Harry turned half expecting a man in a black cloak but he didn’t know why. But it was Dumbledore. His eyes were brimming with a fierce hatred and determination.

“Go get Snape; we need all professors out here.” He ordered before swooping on by Harry, his wand out and attacking the Death Eaters who just dodged behind dementors for protection.

Harry eyed them warily but did what he was ordered. Yet, as he dived into the cold dungeons and sprinted toward Snape’s office, he knew something was wrong.

He was being followed.

But he noticed it too late; he didn’t have time to react. And in a flash the black cloaked figure had grabbed him, disarmed him, and slammed him hard onto the corridor floor. It wasn’t like the nightmare but it was close enough.

“Dear me Potter,” the voice whispered in his ear and with a start he realized it was Professor Gary. No! Harry thought. It wasn’t Professor Gary; it was Sebastian Jones, the deranged Dementor tamer. The eyes...how could Harry have forgotten about the eyes? They were so obvious! “Realize who I am?”

He jerked Harry over and stared hard into his eyes. The man was deranged that was obvious. “You killed the Dark Lord, Potter. You’re too weak to kill the Dark Lord, but you killed the Dark Lord!” He snarled and behind Harry he heard another scuffle as someone else was dragged into the corridor.

“I didn’t kill Voldemort,” Harry snarled. “He killed himself when he defied the Wizard’s Debt!”

“Stow it!” Gary snarled as he backhanded Harry across the face. “It doesn’t matter; we the Death Eaters will get revenge for the Dark Lord. We will yet to make a mark upon the world. And we’ll start with you. You see Potter, I control Dementors.” Harry snarled but Gary shook his head to keep him from talking. “Okay, I tame them, then. You’re think like my brother, don’t you Potter. He was stationed at Surrey, but he failed so I had to kill him. We don’t accept failures.

“So I came to Hogwarts, under the name of some Hufflepuff fool. No one had seen him for years, so I didn’t even have to disguise myself much. Just my age. But that doesn’t matter. I’ve been watching you...seeing who you trusted and who you hated. How you worked and how you thought. You’re almost like a dementor, Potter, hard to figure out but once that’s done easy to read.” He cackled darkly and looked up.

“You’ve noticed the Dementors, you know. I’ve had them here since Christmas. Only time the wards were weak enough to sneak them in. Every time you were near me, or in my classroom, you were near them. I controlled them enough to keep them at bay, and they listen to me. So easy to get into the mind of a dementors, when you’ve got part of a dementor in you. Sound like someone you know?” He eyed Harry as the boy tensed up slightly.

In the Entrance Hall there was a battle going on and everyone was shouting and screaming. Harry tried to block out the screams. They reminded him too much of his nightmares.

“I gave you the nightmares, Potter. I knew you thought of me as too much of a fool to waste your distrust on, so I gave you hot coco. You were getting too aware of the dementors, you’re so prone to them and they’re so prone to you. But the hot coco contained a potion to give you your worst nightmares. Why? Because I needed you moving around at night to successfully get the plan done. With you screaming in terror in your sleep, and sleepwalking the castle, all eyes were on you. So I could slowly break any wards that gave any problems. You’re such a wonderful distraction Potter. Dumbledore cares far too much for you. And to see you terrified in your sleep and walking the castle, he can’t keep watch for too much more.” He grinned wickedly and Harry glared darkly.

“However, enough of this chatting Potter, it gives me headaches. Have too many links with too many dementors. I was a prize to the Dark Lord until you killed him. You will pay for that!” Gary hollered darkly.

Harry took advantage of the man’s lack of grip for the moment and knocked him backward. There was a quick scuffle, Harry fighting hard and Gary fighting back. It was a pop to the nose that sent Harry reeling. Startled, Harry lost his balance for a minute and Gary grabbed him. Locking Harry’s arms behind him.

They were face to face for a long dark moment. Harry’s breath ragged and the screams of the Entrance Hall bursting loudly in his ears.

“Now, Potter, let’s put you, the one who beat the Dark Lord, to the ultimate test of trust.” With that he thrust Harry around and the boy found himself face to face with what had been plaguing his nightmares.

Snape was being held by a dementor, all his dementor traits called up, his face sunken, his eyes flashing, everything around him crisp with coldness, his eyes pure black, his robes flapping with ragged wind that only dementors can have, and a hollow hunger for happy feelings.

“Do you trust Professor Severus Snape, Potter? Look at him closely, do you trust him enough right now...not to kill you for his own hunger?” Gary’s voice was like burning oil and Harry was horrified.

Gary then did the odd clucking noise that Harry had heard last night. And before Harry knew what was going on, Snape’s body went rigid as Gary used his power over dementors to control the dementor side of Snape.

Then, both Snape and the dementor holding him, dived right for him.

Gary then did the odd clucking noise that Harry had heard last night. And before Harry knew what was going on, Snape’s body went rigid as Gary used his power over dementors to control the dementor side of Snape.

Then, both Snape and the dementor holding him, dived right for him.

Gary held Harry tight until both Snape’s gnarled hands and the dementor’s gnarled hands were clawing at him. Then, with a thrust, Gary shoved Harry forward, hard into the folds of the robes and a sickening wave of cold over swept Harry.

“Kill him,” Gary ordered.

In the distance the oh-so-familiar scream from his past erupted in Harry’s head. Harry had never been so cold in his life as the folds of the real dementor’s robes engulfed him. His whole world wanted to give away, to drop out beneath him and for him to collapse and faint to the world.

Then, just as he was about to receive a horrid lesson in how to kiss from a dementor, hands grabbed him and pulled him away. If dementors screamed, Harry just heard it. As Snape’s gnarled hands dragged him away from the clasp of the dementor a horrid sound erupted from the dark being.

“Listen,” Snape’s voice was crocked and hollow. Harry found himself trying to fight free of Snape’s grip. Somewhere over the long years of dealing with dementors Harry had built up a strong immune sense against fainting in front of dementors. However, right now, that immune sense was about to collapse.

“Run!” Snape crocked and he shoved him. Gary had already run away to deal with the dementors in the Entrance Hall. But the other dementor was obviously not as rebellious as Snape because it dived forward in a desperate attempt to grab Harry.

A sickening wave of cold over swept Harry again and the final screams of his mother sent him reeling forward. Yet, the dementor never grabbed him as yet another scream erupted in the dungeon corridor and Harry turned around to see Snape wrestling with the dementor.

Harry didn’t know how to react. He had never seen anyone ever come into a wrestling contest with a dementor, especially someone with dementor traits inside of them.

As they wrestled, Harry tried to climb to his feet and run. Snape had fought Gary’s control over him trying to save Harry and all the boy could do was sit on the dungeon floor to watch him.

There were footfalls and Harry spun around to see a panicked Gary running down the corridor, shouting. He didn’t even spare a glance at the sprawled boy on the ground, just ran toward the wrestling duo and tried to yank them apart.

Shouting, he grabbed Snape by the scruff of his ragged robes, and threw him backwards. The other dementor rose up and flinched as Gary began to cluck his tongue and muttered under his breath. Harry could see his wand peeking out of Gary’s robe sleeve and without hesitation he dived forward.

Gary’s spell went spiraling off sideways but Harry didn’t see where as he crashed down onto the ground. Having broken the man’s clucking of the tongue and spell, the dementor was jolted free its containment. With another scream, it dived forward and grabbed the screaming Gary.

Harry jerked off of him, and spun around in time to see Snape gasping and panting as an odd black film filed into his stomach. With a sickening jolt, Harry realized that Gary’s spell had hit Snape.

“No,” Harry panted, wiping away a stream of blood that was leaking from his nose. He turned around in an attempt to run and saw to his horror the dementor leaned down and give a hell of kiss to Gary. The man stopped screaming and his body went limp from the pulling of his soul. It was one of the most horrifying things Harry had ever seen.

Then Gary was dropped to the ground in a soulless lump and the dementor, carving more souls, turned toward Harry. Realizing the sudden danger Harry was in, he tried to scramble to his feet, but Snape got to him first.

Harry knew that somewhere inside of him that Snape couldn’t suck out his soul but Snape could kill him. Gary hadn’t ordered them to suck out his soul, take all his happiness away, but to kill him. And Snape was under Gary’s control.

Snape gnarled hands were dancing around Harry’s throat while the dementor glided forward and began to struggle with Snape for the soul of Harry. The dementor only sensed Snape’s dementor side; it didn’t realize that Snape was human.

Snape hissed darkly at the dementor and tried to push the dark being away while choking Harry.

“Snape, listen to me!” Harry crocked. He had to get through to Snape. “I’m Harry Potter! You know me.” That didn’t help much, if anything it made everything worse. “Listen to me, please. You don’t want to kill me, please Snape, please.” Tears were streaming down Harry’s cheeks.

In the background he could hear the screams of his mother, the screams of his friends, and the screams of every person alive. They were horrible screams and Harry was receiving them through the dementor’s claw that was wrapped around his shoulder. He was pressed hard against a wall, and soon he would lose himself to the sorrow and depression that tried to beat its way into his head.

No! He had to hold on! He had a reason to live now. He was going become a curse breaker. He had friends who loved him. The Weasleys, Hermione, Dumbledore, Neville, Luna, Lupin, and all his friends. He had people who cared. He didn’t have to return to the Dursleys and Voldemort was dead. He was free to live his life. He had people who cared...he had Snape...

“Snape! Please, listen!” Harry pleaded. “I’ve come to trust you, in the same way I trusted Sirius. I don’t even trust Lupin that much. Oh, please, Snape. I don’t know why, you understood me. You helped me in the way I needed help.” Snape’s hands were tightening around Harry’s neck. “You taught me chess, you helped me. I trust you like I trusted Sirius! This isn’t you! You know this!” Harry pleaded but he wasn’t getting through.

“Please...” Harry’s breath was coming in short gasps. “I trust you,” Harry gasped and for a minute Snape’s black eyes seemed to jolt a bit. He seemed to loosen his grip but Harry couldn’t tell. The dementor’s gnarled hand had already crept up onto his neck right next to Snape’s. Harry was so cold and he knew...he just knew that he would never ever be happy again.

“Snape...” Harry pleaded as Snape’s hands fiddle a bit with his neck. Then suddenly Harry remembered. The necklace! “Snape...listen...you’ve got to say leapigh. Please, Snape...say it!” Harry cried out as the dementor dug his hand hard into Harry’s neck, lifting his chin upward so that Harry could get an improper lesson in kissing.

“H-Ha-Harry?” Snape crocked and for the first time Harry realized just how far Snape was under Gary’s control.

“Leapigh, please just say it...trust me.” Harry murmured groggily. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake.

“Leapigh!” Snape suddenly shouted in a deep hollow voice. What would follow would be something Harry would never forget.

Harry’s necklace jolted harshly, much more harshly then ever before, but Harry had been messing with an enhancer spell one day and it had hit the necklace. So the jolt that followed was much more enhanced and much more powerful then ever.

Snape’s hand, which had been curled around the necklace, suddenly seared up and Snape screamed. But not a hollow scream like the dementors, but a real scream. A human scream. Yet, the dementor, which had also been holding the necklace, screeched in an inhuman way and flew backwards.

The jolt from the necklace seared Harry’s neck too. He cried out in pain, dropping to his knees as the hands holding him up abandoned their hold, holding his neck and sobbing. The intense cold had left him.

He glanced up in time to see the dementor screeching and flying backwards. A solid black painting jerked open when the dementor came in range and the dark being soared back into. Holding it’s hand and screeching.

For a brief second, Harry was relieved, and then he remembered Dumbledore talking about a hidden room with a black painting as its entrance and how it seemed seconds from collapsing.

Horrified, Harry turned around, not wanting to see a dementor crushed, he wasn’t sure if it was possible but if it was he sure as hell didn’t want to see it. Yet, that was the least of his worries.

For as the hidden room was jolted free and able to collapse down...the whole dungeons shook and above Harry, stone began to slip.

“That room was one of the main supports of the ceiling in the dungeons!” Snape hollered and Harry glanced at him to see to his immense relief that the man was normal looking. “MOVE!” he shouted and with a lunge he grabbed Harry’s robe collar and dragged him.

Suddenly, the dungeon ceiling collapsed and there was a scrambling of movements. Harry found himself slammed hard against a corridor wall as stone skidded down his back. For several minutes, Harry sat crunched up against the corridor way, his eyes slammed shut, until all movement stopped.

“Potter?” Snape’s voice was close but strained. “Potter?” he called again but Harry didn’t move. “Harry!” Harry jolted and looked around through the dust. There was a gap between the end of the corridor and the crumbled ceiling. They were blocked in.

Snape was sitting crunched up against a corridor, holding his arm, which from Harry’s angle could be seen as completely smashed.

“Are you OK?” Snape asked weakly as he shifted his weight. Snape was horrid looking. He was completely torn and beaten up, probably from his wrestling match with the dementor, his arm was crushed and he was shivering like mad. Harry was shivering too, probably from all the coldness he just went through.

“Yeah, I’m not even going to ask you.” Harry said weakly, staring straight at Snape’s arm. Snape didn’t respond, he was eyeing Harry wearily. “I’m fine,” Harry muttered. “We need to dig our way out of here,” Harry mumbled, climbing to his feet and stumbling toward the cave-in.

“Potter, stop moving now! You’ve just been nearly choked to death, you’ve been in the grip of a dementor, and me...you are not fit to move!” Snape ordered and Harry leaned heavily against a stone.

“Do you remember?” Harry asked weakly, rubbing his neck slightly. Snape looked away with an ashamed face. “It wasn’t your fault, he got control of you.”

“Yes it was Potter!” Snape hollered. “You could’ve died! I would’ve killed you! It’s my entire bloody fault!”

“Well you didn’t!” Harry shouted back, his voice raspy and strained. “You didn’t kill me and you tried to save me at first. I just didn’t run like you ordered me too! And for your information, if you hadn’t been in that dementor’s way then I would’ve been kissed! Also, if it hadn’t been for that bloody necklace of yours then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You couldn’t help it and you know it!” Snape glared at Harry as he yelled and then he slumped backwards.

“So it was the necklace?” he asked weakly and Harry nodded painfully. “How was it so strong?”

“Flitwick was teaching us enhancing charms on Tuesday and one hit the necklace. Guess that’s lucky now. Feel sorry for Ginny, bet she got a jolt.” Harry mumbled. “We’ve got to get out of here! The Entrance Hall, the dementors, the Death Eaters, what if they need help.”

“Potter, we’re not getting out of here!” Snape hissed. “Not at least until Dumbledore or someone else comes down here to get us out. So sit down and stop straining yourself!”

Harry slide down onto the ground and sighed.

“Potter...I’m sorry.” he trailed off and Harry shook his head.

“It wasn’t you fault. How’d you wrestle with the dementor?” Harry asked weakly.

“The dementor traits give me the advantage that humans don’t have. I can touch a dementor without feeling the side effects. Jones had dementor traits, and a way of controlling them with spells. He spent years, I do believe learning to do so, and then subjected himself to several cruticas curses to get so he didn’t feel too many side effects. Only someone deranged can do what Jones did.” Snape informed.

“And he got kissed for it,” Harry mumbled. Snape nodded. “It’s horrible, seeing someone kissed...” He shuddered slightly.

“You shouldn’t have been subjected to that. Anything you been subjected too.” Snape sighed and he shivered violently. His arm was too painful as were all the other injuries.

“Guess my year doesn’t get out of end-of-the-year exams, eh? I didn’t last the year without meeting a murderous fiend.” Harry sighed. “And I was so close.”

“That’s wretched,” Snape muttered sarcastically. “Potter what are you doing? I told you to sit down!”

“Sir, if we just sit here, you’ll not make it before they find us. You need help. I’d give you a mirror if I had one, but you’d just break it anyway.” Harry retorted as he began to climb to the cave-in and dig his way from the top.

“Potter, you’ll pay for that remark.” Snape snarled. “You’re insane for thinking you can dig your way out of this. It’s stone, Potter. Heavy, charmed, dungeon stone!” The dusty outline of Harry shrugged.

“I’m stubborn, sir,” Harry replied and Snape growled to himself. But seeing that he was going to get nowhere with the boy he decided not to argue. He didn’t have the strength to anyway.

“Potter, if you manage to dig us out of here, I will excuse your class from the end-of-term exams. But since I know that won’t happen, I don’t have to worry.” Snape chortled and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’ve got a goal to shoot for don’t I?” Harry retorted and set to work. Snape wasn’t lying, it was hard work. After around half an hour of laboring on it, he hadn’t made much of a dent and his fingers were scraped.

“Told you,” Snape growled as Harry set back on the rubble panting. Harry didn’t respond. “Potter...” Snape trailed off a bit. “What you said to me...did you mean it?”

“That you’d break a mirror if you looked into it?” Harry asked. “Yeah, you haven’t seen yourself, trust me on this.”

“Not that Potter!” Snape snapped. “What you said about trusting me...”

“Yeah, why? No one trust you or something?” Harry asked weakly.

“Not many,” Snape replied and Harry looked at him. Snape was paler then usual and his arm seemed have taken a shape of its own. “Why do you trust me?”

“I-I’m not sure,” Harry muttered. “I’ve always, in a sense, but only till this year did I realize I truly did. I can’t explain it...but I meant everything I said.” Harry whispered and Snape fell quiet. Harry groaned, pulled back up, and started to dig again.

The silence was thick between them and Harry kept working. After a while Harry realized he was doing it more for his own sake of mind, something to keep himself occupied, and a sense of trying to help Snape.

Snape must’ve drifted off after awhile because when Harry glanced back, Snape’s head was rolled against the wall and his breathing was shallow. The sight made him remember Lupin and his heart jolted. He sure hoped Lupin wasn’t dead.

Harry kept working without even realizing that he was. After a while everything became blurred and he was barely seeing his hands move. They were scraped up and bloody, and after one roll backwards for a rest his glasses fell off. After that he couldn’t see very well, but he kept working.

Finally, almost two hours later, Harry knew he couldn’t go any farther. Panting, he stumbled backwards and slipped down the rubble. He shivered when he hit the ground and slowly he pulled himself up. Snape was shivering too, Harry could see his blurred outline shivering.

On a split second decision, Harry stumbled over to Snape and leaned against him. He leaned perfectly so that Snape’s arm wouldn’t be crushed, but so that Harry was using Snape’s chest as a pillow. His rhythmic breathing caused Harry to slip into slumber.

888

Harry woke up with a jolt when Snape shifted. He didn’t even need a second to remember, for everything flooded through him instantly. He sat up quickly but Snape’s good arm pulled him back down.

“Lay still, Potter. You’re weak and that foolish digging didn’t help.” Snape snarled and Harry found himself tensing up against Snape chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Potter!” Snape snarled and Harry snorted.

“Sorry, forgot,” Harry mumbled. There was a long pause and Harry thought after a while Snape might’ve fallen back asleep.

“You’re a lot like your mother,” Snape suddenly said and Harry jolted. “You’ve been told several times, I know, that you look exactly like your father but you have Lily’s eyes, but you’re more like your mother then you know. Stubborn like your father, but stubborn in the same sense as your mother.” He paused and checked to see if Harry was even awake. He was.

“She and I didn’t get along, but she would help me when I needed it. After some of your father’s pranks, she would help me, no matter how mean I was. She had a good soul, and she put everyone before her, before herself. Much like you. Though she seemed to think things through more.” Snape chuckled and tensed as Harry relaxed against him. Harry had been tense earlier, he didn’t mind that.

“Sir?” Harry muttered weakly.

“Potter?” Snape said softly.

“Thanks for telling me about my mother, no one ever does.” With that Harry completely relaxed against Snape and fell asleep, no longer able to keep his eyes open. Snape smiled slightly, tightened his hold on Harry, and fell asleep too.

888

Vaguely, Harry woke up later to see Peeves bobbing up and down before him.

“Oh no, Potter, just go back to sleep. You’ve been found, I’ll just go tell headmaster.” With that Peeves bobbed off and Harry, no longer worried about, fell once again into sleep.

888

Peeves did indeed get the Headmaster and after a few minutes, they had shifted all the rubble. Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood in the rubble of the cave-in, stunned by the sight before them.

Professor Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin House, the bane of existence of all Gryffindors, the dreaded Potions Master, was holding Harry Potter, the bane of the Potions Master’s existence, resting his cheek in the boy’s hair while the boy rested his head on Snape’s chest. They were sleeping peacefully, curled into each other.

Neither of them looked tense, and neither of them looked at all disgusted.

“That’s something I never thought I’d see,” McGonagall whispered and Dumbledore chuckled.

“They’ve done something I thought would take ‘em years to do.” He said merrily.

“What?” McGonagall asked. “Rest against each other, get trapped in a cave- in, fight dementors?” McGonagall demanded.

“No, go through a test of trust and pass.” Dumbledore chuckled as Harry shifted closer to Snape for comfort and warmth.

When Harry woke up there was a pulsing silence. Startled, he sat bolt upright and everything that happened swam into his head. Attack, Lupin, cold, dementors, Death Eaters, Gary, tamer, Snape, choking, jolting, Snape, cave-in, Snape, digging, cold, Snape, Peeves, dust, Snape...

Harry’s head was reeling and as he looked around he found he was somewhere he didn’t recognize. He was in a short ward, there were five other beds but they weren’t occupied. He was alone, in somewhere he didn’t know, alone.

Fear engulfed him for a minute. What happened? He remembered Peeves and that was it. Didn’t Peeves say he was going to get help? He must’ve. Harry was no longer trapped in the dungeons, but where was he? In an unfamiliar ward? Harry’s heart pounded.

Determined to figure out where he was, Harry swung out of bed and upon shaky legs he walked the length of the ward. It wasn’t long but in Harry’s weak state, he felt like he was running miles. Finally, he reached the door and wrenched it open.

The corridor in front of the ward was completely deserted and a bit empty. Any and all windows leading outside showed that it was late into the night, but shouldn’t there still be people out. What was going on?

Gritting his teeth against the bitter cold under his bare feet, he began to walk the corridor in a determination to find where he was. He passed several doors, and they were all wards too, but all empty. Harry’s heart pounded in a new tinge of fear.

Then he came to the end of the corridor, and there was a door off to the side. Curious, wondering if it was just another empty ward, Harry peeked in and gasped at what he saw.

It was indeed another ward, but two beds were occupied and they were occupied by the two people Harry had on his mind. Severus Snape was lying in the bed in the far corner, and Remus Lupin was lying in the one next to it. Neither of them looked good.

Remus was wrapped up in bandages around his shoulders and knees (he didn’t have blankets covering him, they were kicked off on the ground) and his breath was shallow. Too shallow for comfort.

Professor Snape wasn’t much better, actually he looked worse. His arm was cast and bandaged, along with several coating liquids on the cast, while his chest was layered in rags of dipped in different colors and different potions. He was pale, much paler then usual, and he looked like his teeth were gritted in pain. His chest didn’t seem to be moving.

Horrified, Harry dived forward, his knees wobbling badly as he stared over the bodies of the two he cared for most in the world (as adults). They both looked inches from death and didn’t seem like they were ever going to wake up. Snape looked in more pain, and Lupin just didn’t seem to breathing much nor was Snape for that matter.

Harry’s head was reeling. They weren’t dead were they? They still wouldn’t be breathing if they were, would they? Or were they trapped in coma? Would they ever wake up? If they didn’t, if they died...Harry shook his head. They had to be alive.

‘Then, why you on an empty floor and they’re the only ones here, and they’re inches from death?’ Harry thought. Why? They couldn’t be? But in his dreams, didn’t Lupin die? Wasn’t Snape dying in the cave-in? ‘That was why you were digging so much!’ Harry stepped forward and felt Lupin’s arm.

It was stone cold and unlike most people it didn’t prickle under his touch. Snape was even colder when Harry touched him. Harry stepped back in horror. Were they dying? Were they dead already? ‘Don’t be stupid! They wouldn’t be breathing if they were already dead!’ Harry chastened. No, they were just dying.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore; he had to get out of there. Find some answers. He ran from the ward, his body moaning under the strain. If he had been more observant he would’ve noticed he was covered in bandages like Snape and Lupin.

He stumbled back the way he came, his head in too much of a whirl to take in much of his surroundings. He needed to find someone. He called out but there was no response.

Putting so much strain of his already weak body, did nothing for Harry. Suddenly, his body couldn’t take much more and he collapsed forward in a thick moan. He managed to pull himself up against the wall, his chest heaving in pain, before he slowly dropped in unconsciousness.

“They’re dead,” he muttered aloud.

888

There were voices around Harry. He couldn’t figure out who they were or where they were coming from. But they were somewhere around him.

“He’s woken up?” a familiar voice asked in concern.

“Yes, Ron and Hermione found him passed out in the corridor!” Another familiar voice.

“Why was he in the corridor?” A new voice asked.

“No ones, he might’ve woken up and walked out.” The second voice said again.

“Why?” the third voice demanded.

“Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville had all gone out for a midnight snack and he must’ve woken up alone. Maybe he panicked.” The second voice said gravely.

“They left him alone!” the first voice called in. “I’m going...”

“Molly, calm down. He’s alright, and they needed a snack. St. Mungo isn’t known for its great food.” The second voice said again. Harry suddenly remembered as he listened to the voices. The empty corridor, the cold hallway, the two beds...Lupin and Snape!

Harry sat jolt up in his bed, his hand in a usual routine grabbing his glasses from the bedside table. Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley appeared before him. They all looked at him with kind, relieved faces.

“Harry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley made to bustle forward.

“Remus!” Harry gasped quickly. “Snape!”

“Calm down dear boy, they’re quite alright.” Dumbledore chuckled but Harry shook his head as he tried to escape Mrs. Weasley’s motherly love trying to push him back into bed.

“No, I saw ‘em...last night...they were cold and barely breathing...” Harry panicked.

“Drink this,” someone ordered and Harry turned around startled to see a Healer there. He shoved a potion in his hands and when he saw Harry wasn’t going to drink it, he forced Harry to drink it. Mrs. Weasley gently pushed Harry back into bed.

“But...” Harry began as the potion began to kick in. Harry suddenly felt calmer and everything seemed to slow down.

“Don’t worry, they’re still healing. Professor Snape’s been up and about several times, and grouchier each time he discovers he can’t leave.” Dumbledore chuckled.

“But they looked so dead...” Harry mumbled as the potion completely took control. He turned a questioningly gaze onto the two Weasleys and then the Healer.

“Calming draft,” he informed Harry, misreading the look.

“Yes, dear boy, I found them that way too. But not to worry, they’re perfectly healthy and going to live. Remus had a bit of a bad encounter with a Death Eater in the corridor and weak from the full moon the night before, he was easily beat. He’ll live, do not worry. As for Severus, well he was fine after about a day of rest, but he happened to find St. Mungo’s third floor equipped with a potion that takes certain traits away from the body...” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows knowingly at Harry and for a minute the boy didn’t follow. Then he realized and made a slight gasping ‘oh.’

“So, they’re OK?” Harry asked one last time.

“In perfect health, I do believe. Remus will soon be up and about, and joking around while I’m sure Severus will soon be up and taking points away with a new passion. Now, I must go, come Arthur, let’s go make sure Madame Pomfrey is handling all the students in the Hospital Wing.” He chuckled and with a nod of greeting at Harry, he and Mr. Weasley left.

“I’m in St. Mungo?” Harry asked Mrs. Weasley as the Healer bustled away to work in the corner.

“Yes, Dumbledore decided to take all those seriously injured to St. Mungo and leave the ones who just need chocolate to Madame Pomfrey.” Mrs. Weasley cooed as he fondly tucked Harry tightly into his bed.

“How long have I been out?” Harry asked sheepishly. He wasn’t use to so much attention.

“Almost three days,” she said sadly. “Now, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville are here, so I’ll let them tell you the story. I dear say they’ll want to.” She nodded her head. “You’re a brave lad, Harry, I’m so proud. Now I must go before Arthur does some childish thing with muggle methods.” With that she left the ward.

Harry felt an off stirring emotion when Mrs. Weasley told him that she was proud. Once she was gone the Healer walked over and checked Harry over. For the first time, Harry realized just how bandaged he was.

“Broken ribs, a bit of a burned and strangled neck. Bloody knees and scraped up hands.” The Healer informed as he checked Harry over. He then glanced up with an odd smile. “From your file, Mr. Potter, that’s not a bad list.” With that he left chuckling and Harry rolled his eyes. He bet it wasn’t.

Glancing down he found his chest wrapped in a hefty blue bandage, his knees wrapped tightly, almost like Lupin’s, and his hands tapped up. His neck was glazed down in a thick layer of green lotion.

He leaned back, intent on going back to sleep, when suddenly the doors banged open. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville came trooping in. Harry sat back up and watched them.

“I told you we shouldn’t’ve gone to the fifth floor for the food, that’s four floors up.” Hermione chastened as Ron panted heavily and limped a little to his bed. None of them noticed Harry.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that St. Mungo was a series of corridors and wards that lead all over the damn place?” Ron complained.

“What did you think?” Hermione demanded. “That there was only one corridor to each floor?” Ron nodded and Hermione sighed. “Honestly Ron!”

“Well, I’ve haven’t exactly been here too many times, how was I supposed to know?” Ron demanded and Hermione chuckled.

“Good thing, too, that you haven’t been here too many times.” She leaned forward and kissed Ron.

“Geez, get a room...people trying to heal in here and you two snogging isn’t helping.” Harry moaned and instantly everyone looked at him. Hermione blushed and ran forward at the same time.

“Harry!” she cried out, followed shortly by the others. Soon everyone was on his bed, staring at him eagerly.

“So, you okay there mate?” Ron asked and Harry nodded with a grin. Now that he knew Lupin and Snape were safe, and alive, he was quite alright.

“Yeah, so what happened in the Entrance Hall?” Harry asked eagerly and instantly they all launched into the tale.

“Well, the Death Eaters were protected by some shield that Gary created...so they weren’t affected by the dementors.” Hermione began.

“Yeah, so we were all fighting, and all the DA members produced a patronus so the dementors were held back along with the professors’ patronus helping too. It was amazing. Everyone was fighting, all houses and all years. McGonagall tried to get the students into the Great Hall but they weren’t having it so, and they started to help. It was amazing.” Ron said wildly.

“So? How’d you need up in here?” Harry asked, gesturing around the ward.

“We saved Dumbledore,” Ron muttered in a tone that almost said he didn’t believe it. Harry looked at him, wide-eyed. “A large group of dementors had swooped down on him, and he was too busy trying to help a group of second years to notice them. So Hermione and I dived forward, and tried to fight them off. We managed to drive them off with our patronus, but the Death Eaters were taking advantage of Dumbledore’s momentary lapse to attack, so we stepped in front of their spells. Hurt like blazes, but we saved Dumbledore.” Hermione nodded in agreement and Harry beamed. To save Dumbledore was one of the highest honors anyone could have, and his best friends had done it.

“I tried to tackle a dementor off of a third year...” Neville shivered. “Don’t touch a dementor, it’s horrifying.” Harry nodded in agreement.

“I helped Professor Flitwick with a group of first years, and ended up saving Flitwick from a Death Eater, but got hurt in the rebound. But Flitwick was like Madame Pomfrey over me. It’s kind of weird.” Ginny giggled and everyone else laughed.

“Anyway, we managed to hold them all off and beat them all until the Order members appeared and then we beat their asses. Well, a group got away, but that doesn’t matter.” Ron said happily.

“Oh, and Malfoy betrayed his father!” Hermione informed. “His father got a hold of him and cast the charm to repel the dementors ‘charm’ on him and then ordered them to fight on the winning side. Malfoy went sort of stiff and turned toward Luna, who his father was ordering him to curse, and then said quite plainly, ‘no’ and without another word, he turned and stunned his father, right in the mask.”

“Whoa,” Harry breathed and everyone nodded in agreement.

“What about you? What’s you story?” Hermione demanded. Harry thought for a moment and realized that they didn’t know anything about Snape, meaning that they didn’t know the proper story. Knowing that Snape would never forgive him if he told them of the dementor traits, Harry decided to make his story vague.

He told them everything of Gary, and the dementor. He just forgot to talk about Snape. He only came into the story when Gary was kissed. There Harry became wary of what he said, not sure how much they knew.

“Wasn’t it that necklace Snape was making you and Ginny wear that zapped the dementor off of your neck?” Ron asked and Harry sighed. So they knew about the necklaces. Good.

“Yeah,” and he explained about the hidden room and the collapsing ceiling.

“Of course,” Hermione said. “In Hogwarts: A History it says that the dungeons are supported by three different hidden rooms, and if one collapses it’s then the whole area collapses. That’s why it took so long to find you, half the dungeons collapsed. I heard Flitwick and Dumbledore talking, they’re working on that right now.”

“Yeah, well Peeves found us and that was lucky of we would’ve been there forever.” Harry said, glad he didn’t have to explain anymore. “No one got kissed right?”

“Nope,” Ron said grinning. “Hey, I’ve got some good food, help me Nev and Herm.” Ron said, diving from Harry’s bed and running to his. Neville looked pleased at the thought of food and Hermione rolling her eyes went to help her boyfriend.

“I convinced Ron to lay off about trusting Snape with the necklaces. Mind you, I was right in the middle of a curse when I felt that jolt, scared me half to death.” Ginny giggled. “Are you OK?” Harry nodded. “Dumbledore’s moved the dance till after finals, Ron’s been moaning about it day. But Dumbledore doesn’t think anyone will be up for a dance tonight.”

“It’s that close?” Harry asked in horror.

“No, he’s moved it until after finals,” Ginny giggled and Harry rolled his eyes. He still hadn’t asked anyone, but he did have someone in mind. Cho had asked him, but Harry turned her down, remembering last year. “Harry?” Ginny asked in a low voice and Harry glanced at her. “Will you go with me?”

“Where?” Harry asked bemused. “To the dance?” Ginny nodded and Harry grinned widely. “Of course, I was planning on asking you.” Ginny blushed and Harry grinned. What a weird time to be asked to a dance. Then again, after all that’s happen, anything’s possible.

“What’s up with you two?” Ron demanded as he walked over with a box full of food. “The twins snuck it in, not tricked at all.”

Hermione and Ginny shared a quick, knowing glance and instantly they began to giggle. “What’s up with you two?” Ron asked as he dug through his food.

“Nothing,” Hermione said evenly and Harry shrugged at Ron. For the next hour they spent an enjoyable time eating the twins’ food, which was indeed not tricked. They chatted about everything, the fight, the Quidditch final, the finals, the dance (wherein Ron asked who Harry was going with and Harry replied his sister, and that was followed with a series of questions), and then the summer.

“You can come home with us,” Ron said knowingly. “I already asked mum and she said yes.” Ron grinned and Harry did too. This wasn’t turning into such a bad day.

After around an hour or a half, Lupin suddenly limped in. Looking a bit peaky but much more healthy. He looked at the food and smiled.

“You saved me some, right?” He demanded and instantly found his arms full with food. He grinned, sat down on the bed next to Harry’s and looked around.

“So, how are you all?” he demanded.

“Great!” came the replies and Lupin smiled.

“You?” Harry demanded.

“Well, I’ve been stuck in a room with a furious Professor Snape, cursing everything in his path because he isn’t allowed to leave, but other then that I’m good.” Everyone chuckled and Lupin pulled a serious face. “Now, it isn’t funny, Snape’s not pretty when he’s mad.”

“When is he ever pretty?” Ron asked in shock causing more chuckling. Time passed slowly, everyone talking still, with Lupin this time, and it was enjoyable until the Healer came rushing in, and scolded them all for eating outside food that their weak bodies might not be able to hold right now.

Lupin was ushered out and the children shared a rolling-eye look.

Harry fell back in his bed, sound asleep and content.

888

By time Harry was back at Hogwarts, everything was normal. They had a weekend break before anything started up again and life was going back to normal. Though all anyone could talk about that the attack. Harry found prying questions of what happened to him were annoying, but they died down after a while.

Harry never did get around to finding Snape in the crowd, yet every now and then at dinner, Harry would glance up at the Staff Table and see Snape watching him. He would only nod in greeting and Snape would nod back. The trust that had formed in the cave-in was still there, but Snape just couldn’t drop his greasy git act. It wasn’t him.

Though Harry did see a change in Snape’s appearance. He didn’t seem as dark and sullen all the time. Though he was still pale and greasy, he seemed to have lost some of his appearance when he got the dementor traits taken out. Lupin told Harry the reason that Snape looked in pain and was barely breathing was because the potion was painfully striping away at Snape’s body.

That made sense, Harry figured.

Harry was more or less more content now. Yet, he found himself a bit odd. He remembered his boggart being loneliness and boggarts don’t lie. He wondered if he felt lonely. But why? Dumbledore had already assured him that he could go to the Weasleys, so why should he feel lonely. He realized all the people who cared for him when Snape was strangling him...was he wrong?

Harry found himself sitting on the edge of the lake on night, his mind trying to figure out what was going on.

“Nervous, Potter?” A snide voice suddenly asked from behind him. Harry spun around to see Snape standing there.

“Why?” Harry asked bemused.

“You’ve got a Quidditch Final coming up, and an Arithmancy O.W.L. and the rest of your finals.” Snape stated in a tone that asked if Harry had suddenly gone dim.

“Oh, no, not really. Just thinking,” Harry mumbled and he turned back to the lake.

“Here, Mr. Potter,” Snape said and he dropped something into Harry’s lap. Harry picked up and saw that it was his necklace. “I took it off in the cave-in, after you fell asleep. It would only come unhooked for me, if you were wondering why you couldn’t get it off yourself.”

“What do you want me to do with it?” Harry asked wonderingly.

“Well, Miss. Weasley crushed hers with a blasting spell, you can do what you want.” Snape said vaguely.

“Alright,” Harry muttered and he stood up, drew back and threw it at the lake. The giant squid grabbed it in a swipe and crushed it.

“I’m assuming you two didn’t like those?” Snape chuckled. “When I told Dumbledore of them, he found it amusing beyond belief and asked if I ever jolted you when I knew you were asleep. I said no, but the idea had occurred to me.” Harry glanced and saw that Snape was grinning darkly.

“Good thing you didn’t, I think Ginny would’ve hunted you down.” Harry chuckled and he settled back in the rock. A long silence passed between them and Harry found himself thinking back to earlier.

“Do you feel lonely, Mr. Potter?” Snape demanded and Harry jerked.

“H-how did you...?” Harry demanded, turning around to gap.

“It came to my attention that you found Lupin and I in our ward and thought we were dead, right?” Harry nodded slowly, his cheeks flushing a bit. “You’ve just confused yourself, but we’re not dead Potter, nor is anyone else. Come,” Snape ordered and turned around to walk off. Harry followed curiously.

They walked through the school, Snape growling and scowling at any student they met. Many took Harry for being in trouble and shot him sympathetic looks. Finally, the stopped in front of a classroom door on the fourth floor and a second year walked by. Snape growled darkly at him and he more or less took off running.

“Must you scare children?” Harry demanded and Snape turned to him, shocking Harry with a smile.

“Yes,” he said and gestured for Harry to enter. Harry walked in and looked around. Snape swept passed him and before Harry knew had had happen, Snape had thrust upon a cabinet door and out came flying a dementor. Harry reeled backwards in horror and Snape stepped forward.

“You know the boggart charm, I presume?” he demanded.

Harry realizing what it was, suddenly smiled, nodded and raised his wand. “Riddikulus!” he cried and instantly the dementor turned in a blue pig. Snape swept it back into the cabinet.

“See, Potter, you’re not afraid of being lonely anymore. When you saw Lupin and I, and thought we were dead, the feelings that you realized ended up getting confused. You’re a horrible person with emotions, Potter. You were just confused, you’re not alone. Remember that.” And with that Snape swept out of the room.

Harry smiled to himself, Snape was right. He wasn’t alone. Then suddenly a thought struck Harry and he dived forward into the corridor to see Snape just down the hall. “Professor!” Harry called out and Snape turned toward him, his eyebrow raised.

With a wave of his wand, a mirror in the far corner flew over to Snape and stopped before him. Snape growled and looked at Harry. “What’s the meaning of this Potter?”

“See Professor, it didn’t break. You’re healed!” Harry laughed and Snape growled.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for claiming that a mirror would break if it saw my face.” Harry stopped laughing and looked at Snape. He had waved the mirror back to its corner. “And ten points to Gryffindor, for having the nerve to show me that a mirror wouldn’t break without running away in fright.”

“Oh that works, the only time you give points is right after you’ve taken the same amount away.” Harry chuckled and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to take more points away, Mr. Potter?” Snape demanded.

“No!” Harry said and Snape nodded. He turned around. “Thanks, Professor!” Harry called out and Snape just vaguely nod in recognition.

“Did you know, Harry, I use to play seeker myself.” Dumbledore chuckled as Harry sat on the edge of an armchair.

“Truly?” Harry asked wonderingly. There were almost two hours before the Quidditch final against for once Ravenclaw not Slytherin. Harry was nervous, real nervous. Ravenclaw was turning out to be a brute of a team and Cho was on a drive to beat Harry because he turned her down for the dance.

“Yes,” Dumbledore smiled gravely. “I miss grabbing hold of the snitch, its wings fluttering inside my hand. Sometimes old age is a weary thing.” Dumbledore sighed a bit but turned to face Harry again. “Harry, I just called you up to say that I am very proud of you.”

“Err-thanks,” Harry muttered awkwardly. He could feel his face flushing a bit. “Sir?” Harry began. “Why does Peeves owe me?”

“Aww...I knew you’d ask that soon. You see Harry, Peeves doesn’t in truth owe you at all. He’s quite the liar and didn’t want you to know the truth.” Harry was intrigued and was leaning forward in his seat.

“What’s the truth?” Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed mischievously and his smile cricked a bit.

“He has the deepest respect for you,” Dumbledore chuckled at Harry’s stunned face. “No one has ever asked Peeves for help, no one has ever dared to ask Peeves for help. You’ve earned quite a lot of respect from the poltergeist. Also, have to ever noticed that he seems to follow you around, or at least appear at the most inopportune times?”

“Yeah, sort of, but Professor Snape does that too. They’re like pop-up books from hell.” Harry said with a shrug and Dumbledore chuckled as he sat back down at his desk.

“Peeves followed you, and he followed the twins because he admired their pranks, and he admires your bravery and for the most part your tricks too. As for Professor Snape, well I just think he knows you all too well. Pop-up books from hell, hmm, possibly.” Dumbledore was chuckling.

Harry smiled a bit, a little surprised to hear that. But thinking about it, it did make sense. Scanning Dumbledore’s desk he found to his surprise the picture of them all in their Halloween costumes. Harry watched as Ron jumped on top of Neville and Harry grabbed Ginny to swing her around. They were all jumping, waving and laughing.

Dumbledore must’ve followed his eyes because he smiled merrily. “Yes, my Colin Creevy moment, I’m quite proud of the picture.” He chuckled and Harry watched as Ron disentangled himself from Neville and swooped Hermione into his arms. “They truly make a good couple.”

“Yes, they’ve liked each other for a long time, it’s about time they realized it.” Harry smiled slightly, watching his own self hugging Ginny in a laughing manner.

“Harry at the end-of-the-year speech I’m going to talk about you.” Dumbledore informed and Harry blanched.

“Oh, please don’t.” Harry pleaded.

“No, Harry I am, truly. I felt you ought to have prior warning, and I would like it if you happened to come this year.” His eyes twinkled and Harry sighed. That was the last thing he wanted, Dumbledore talking about him. “Please, Harry.”

“Alright,” Harry mumbled before standing up. “I guess I’ve got to go, Quidditch, you know.”

“Aww...how I miss Quidditch. Go on, Harry, I really just wanted to say how proud I was of you.” Harry beamed slightly, slipped off his chair and left.

888

Everything passed in a blur after that. Fifth year O.W.L.S were the next two weeks, so all fifth years were stressed to the breaking point. Harry had never realized that finals weren’t until after the O.W.L.S but then again, he rarely paid that much attention.

Gryffindor just barely won the Quidditch match, Ravenclaw turned out to be a brutal team. Harry had the suspicion that they were just Slytherins disguised as Ravenclaws. Yet, Gryffindor won in the end, and Harry before Madam Hooch knew what had happened, had swiped the snitch and left the field.

Later that week, after doing a few touch up jobs to the box in which he had carved Fawkes, Harry put the snitch in it and sent it to Dumbledore, saying that he didn’t have to forget the feeling of catching a snitch anymore.

Harry’s Arithmancy O.W.L wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be, but then again he had Hermione, Vector, and McGonagall quizzing him on it everywhere he went. So, in the end, he managed a rather descent job. Harry also took to finding Ginny after each test and relieving her stress by a killer game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Every time they got into one of these games, Snape just suddenly appeared, making Harry think more and more about him being a pop-up book from hell. He never commented on the game, but he always appeared right when the game was getting particularly violent, and his appearance always ended the game.

The dance was the weekend before the rest of the school’s finals, much to the annoyance of teachers who claimed that the students wouldn’t study, but it went on anyway. Hermione and Ginny were beautiful as they entered the Common Room and Ron had knew dress robes that Fred and George bought him so he didn’t look bad at all.

The dance was fun, Colin Creevy turned out to the picture taker of everyone, and in the end, he had quite a few of Ginny and Harry slow dancing. On Harry’s assistance, Colin took a picture of McGonagall, who grabbed Snape when everyone was going from one partner to another, and was doing the foxtrot with him again. This time Harry had a plan, the perfect prank.

Harry had fun at this dance, he didn’t go running off and spent most of his time talking and dancing. Ginny was telling Harry about how she was going with Charlie over the summer to help with some dragons, to get a feel. It turned out that some Quidditch recruiters where in the stands of the Final and they found Ron interesting. So, Ron was going around several places over the summer for a few trial runs. He was absolutely ecstatic.

Harry was offered some trail runs too, but he decided he didn’t want to be a professional Quidditch player. The most Harry was worried about was when Ginny went with Charlie, Ron went with his mom to the trails, Bill and Mr. Weasley were in Egypt until the middle of July, the twins were at their shop, Percy was still at work, it would mean Harry really had no place to stay.

Ron had offered to take Harry with him on the trails, but Harry knew he’d just be too nervous with Harry around. Harry decided awhile ago that he wanted nothing to do with dragons, after Norbert, Hagrid’s dragon from first year. But he couldn’t just stay at the Burrow by himself. It wasn’t his home.

But he never brought this up, knowing how stressed Ginny and Ron would get. Harry already knew Mrs. Weasley was stressing over it, he severely wished she wasn’t. He was more or less sure that he could stay a few weeks at the Leaky Cauldron and be fine.

Yet, at the dance, all Harry’s worries were washed away. Though he did find himself utterly horrified when he changed partners in a swinging dance from Hermione, to Snape. Snape didn’t look at all pleased to be in this dance, but Dumbledore had dragged him into it. And at the current moment there was no escaping the dance floor.

“Don’t even begin, Potter.” Snape remarked snidely and Harry nodded. Glancing around him he found Peeves joining in the dance too. He was floating above the ground, but he had in his clutches a third year girl and was leading her in a humorous tango dance.

Finally, the dance was over and all the students trooped up to bed dead tired. After a goodnight kiss with Ginny, Harry crashed into bed and instantly fell asleep.

888

Finals of sixth year were important. Apparently it decided if you were to stay in that class or not. Everyone was worried, especially about Potions, though to their surprise, almost everyone had a passing grade in that class. Though Ron was sure that Snape was just going to instantly fail them all and not one, but maybe Malfoy, would get into seventh year potions.

McGonagall’s turned out to be the hardest, well their first hardest one however. Harry found his brain hurt as he walked out of that classroom and Hermione was murmuring something question number thirty-two and not sure if she put the right answer.

Ron and Harry shared a quick glance and rolled their eyes. They had Potions next and they were more worried about question number one on that test rather than number thirty-two on one they already took.

Harry, Ron and Hermione instantly took seats at the back of the classroom when they entered. Snape didn’t so much as look up as the class filed in. He seemed to be fighting his own inner battle, as if he couldn’t make a decision.

“Bet he doesn’t know if he made the questions hard enough and wants to change ‘em.” Ron murmured and Harry nodded in agreement. Too bad Gary had decided to attack before the finals, other then that they wouldn’t have to be taking this exam. Harry still hadn’t told Ron about that bet, seeing as his friend would probably go insane.

“Settle down,” Snape barked as he stood up. “You are not to look up, not to talk, not to do anything beside write. If you can help it, don’t breath. If you look up at any time during this final, or even make so much as a noise, you will instantly fail.” Everyone stiffened. They were given anti-cheating quills, didn’t Snape know hat. “Don’t look up!”

He ordered again and he began passing the test out, face down. Finally, everyone had one in front of them. “Don’t glance at your friends, make a noise, or look up. You may begin.” Harry flipped his paper over and instantly knew why Snape had been barking at them so.

On the test were four questions:

What is your name?

What is your favorite potion?

What potion do you despise?

Do you know why I am giving this particular test?

Indeed, it was hard not to look up and gape at your friends. Not to snort or rather burst out laughing and asked for the real test. Out of the whole thing, that was the most challenging part.

Trying hard to burst out laughing, Harry answered the questions.

What is you name? Harry Potter.

What is you favorite potion? Laughing Potion.

What potion do you despise? Skelo-grow

Do you know why I am giving you this particular test? Either you’ve gone mental, or you don’t count Gary as a murderous fiend who tried to kill me, so you’ve taken up your side of the bargain.

Once Harry was done, he put down his quill, as many others had, but didn’t dare glance up, knowing that he, of all people, would get into the most trouble. Finally, everyone was done and Snape was collecting the tests.

“You may now look up, but you are not to talk about the test.” Snape ordered and everyone looked up. Ron and Harry looked at each other, Ron’s mouth hanging open in horror, Hermione looked a bit put-out, and Harry was just shaking his head in disbelief. Neville looked incredibly relieved and several students were muttering about a waste of time studying.

“So,” Ron began. “Has mum told you what we’re going to do about your...err...living arrangements for the beginning of the summer?” Harry shook his head.

“I got a letter, saying she was terribly sorry, and that she was going to talk to Dumbledore about it. Sorry for all this trouble, mate.” Harry murmured and Ron shrugged.

“You’re not any trouble, just it’s ironic. We’re always trying to get you to come over at the beginning of the summer vacation, and the one time that happens...no one’s there.” Ron sighed and Harry shrugged. They’d figure something out. Harry felt bad for bumming off of his friends.

Snape put down his quill, obviously done grading the tests. “If you called me mental in that last question, I took off points.” Snape snarled. “If you gave me you’re middle name in the first question in the first question, I took off points, for I didn’t ask for that. If you told me why you liked and disliked those particular potions, I counted off. I didn’t ask why.” Everyone began to murmur.

“I put mental,” Harry and Ron both informed.

“I put why, and my middle name.” Hermione whispered.

“I put my middle name,” Neville mumbled. All around the classroom people were murmuring about what they did.

“Who called him mental?” Malfoy hissed to Blaise. Apparently no one could figure out who did that, beside Ron and Harry. They looked at each other and shrugged with a wicked smile.

“It was the only time that we could possibly get away with it, and not get detention.” Ron said under Hermione accusing glare. “So, what was you worst potion?”

“Skelo-grow,” Harry informed.

“I was going to put Polyjuice, but he’d get suspicious as to how I knew that.” Ron muttered sheepishly. Everyone was telling their answers, seeing that Snape wasn’t about to do anything to stop them.

“I can’t believe I wrote my middle name and got counted off,” Hermione murmured.

“Ah, give it up, ‘Mione. For all I know, I wrote the wrong name.” Harry said before bursting into laughter at his friends faces. Hermione scowled after that and Ron smiled stupidly.

Finally, the class was over.

“Mr. Potter, stay after!” Snape called out over the crowd. Harry detached himself from the crowd and motioned for his friends to go on ahead.

“We’ll save you a seat, Harry.” Ron called out and Harry nodded. He turned back to Snape who was looking over some papers. Finally the class was gone and it was just Snape and Harry in the dungeons.

“Tell me the truth, Mr. Potter; do you really not know why I gave this particular test?” Snape demanded and Harry shrugged.

“No not really, I mean Gary and all.” Harry mumbled and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Do you not remember the cave-in when I said that if you could dig us out I’d not give you class the final?” Harry nodded, still not following him.

“Yeah, and I said I had something to shoot for. But I didn’t dig us out, so why?” Harry demanded and Snape chuckled.

“Harry, how do you think Peeves would get in, with you didn’t manage to dig a hole?” Snape demanded and Harry gaped. “I have wards all over the dungeons to keep Peeves out, he can break them but a cave-in is not something that he could break, unless there was a hole for him to get through. So, you did manage to dig us out.” He smiled oddly and Harry chuckled. “So, I’m not mental, and I do consider Gary a murderous fiend.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Harry muttered sarcastically and Snape motioned for him to leave.

“Go, eat Harry, Mr. Weasley probably thinks I’ve put you in a potion already. Don’t, however, tell anyone the true reason for the exam. Let imaginations run wild.” Snape remarked snidely and Harry nodded. He trooped out of the dungeons, only to stop right before entering the Great Hall with an odd smile.

“He called me Harry, twice.” He shook his head slightly, he must be losing it.

As Harry took a seat next to Ginny, he could already here the rumors about the exam. Hermione glanced over at Harry but when he shook his head she didn’t ask. Glancing around, Harry found Dumbledore watching him with a crocked smile. He smiled back a bit and went back to eating his dinner.

888

A few days later, Harry received a package in the mail from the twins. Smiling, and instantly knowing what it was, he hurriedly unwrapped it and looked at the shirts.

On the shirt was the picture of Snape and McGonagall dancing the foxtrot and in curly, magically letters, it read ‘HE SAID YES.’

“Mate, why are you holding up a pink shirt?” Ron asked and Harry handed it to him. There was a black one too.

“Brilliant!” Ron roared in laughter and soon everyone at Gryffindor table was howling. Smiling, Harry jumped up, grabbed Hedwig who had fluttered onto his shoulder, wrapped up the black shirt hurriedly and tied it to her leg. Then borrowed a school owl that was hopping around on the table and tied the pink one to its leg.

The whole table was watching him.

He hurried scribbled a note that clearly read. ‘YOU’RE MADE FOR EACH OTHER.’ And he sent the owls off. He had walked in on a conversation between Dumbledore and Snape one day, where Snape said something and Dumbledore jokingly said ‘so McGonagall said yes.’ It turned out to be quite the joke throughout the staff.

The whole Gryffindor table was watching the owls as they swooped toward McGonagall and Snape.

“Don’t watch!” Ron hissed and instantly the table fell back into a stiff routine. Yet, Harry knew it was of no use. He had sent his own owl to Snape, there was no doubt that he wouldn’t know.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Snape raised an eyebrow at Hedwig but accepted the package. As soon as it was off her leg, she took off. Same with McGonagall’s owl.

Glancing at each other, McGonagall and Snape unwrapped the presents. An odd hush fell over the Gryffindor table and the rest of the hall curious to what they were looking at also turned toward the staff table.

Snape was holding up his shirt and his face flashing with anger while McGonagall was chuckling to herself. Snape threw the shirt aside and Dumbledore picked it up wonderingly. Smiling when he read it, he instantly pulled it over his head and was soon wearing the shirt over his robes.

Everyone in the hall roared in laughter and Snape jumped to his feet. He left the hall with billowing robes and McGonagall tossed the shirt aside herself. In the next second, Peeves swooped in, grabbed the shirt and much like Dumbledore, jammed it over his head.

“Brilliant,” Ron laughed as Harry smiled. Oh yes, he was in trouble now, he thought.

After dinner, everyone piled out of the hall. Though Dumbledore caught Harry’s shoulder and pulled him out of the crowd.

“Did you carve the box?” Harry nodded and Dumbledore beamed. “Thank-you Harry, I truly love it.” Harry found his face flushing. “Now, as for you prank with the shirts, I truly enjoyed that too. Can you have the twins send me a blue one?” he asked and laughing Harry nodded.

Dumbledore swept out of the hall and Harry followed him. Soon he was walking to Gryffindor Tower by himself.

Then, suddenly, someone appeared behind him. Startled, Harry turned around and found himself face to face with Snape.

“Follow me,” he ordered before turning around and billowing off.

“Merlin I was right,” Harry muttered to himself. “A pop-up book from hell.” They walked in silence until they reached Snape’s office, wherein Snape pushed Harry in. On his desk was a chess set.

“If you can beat me, you won’t get into trouble for you joke. If you don’t, you’ll have detention until the end of the school year and the beginning of next.”

“Are you serious?” Harry gaped and Snape nodded. “Alright,” Harry mumbled and they sat down at the chess set.

888

Almost an hour later, Harry was walking back up to Gryffindor tower with a smile on his face. He had managed to somehow beat Snape, which Harry had a feeling was more of luck then anything else. But he didn’t have detention the rest of the year nor the beginning of next. Now that was luck.

And to top it off, Snape had invented a potion that corrected Harry’s limp. It was a bit painful, but he no longer limped. Snape murmured something about having been working on it for a while, at McGonagall insistence, and he wasn’t too sure if it would work. But it had.

Harry had been second from hugging Snape, when he realized that it was indeed Snape and thought better of it. He settled on thanking the man gratefully and leaving. After a bit of thought, Harry decided that this wasn’t a bad year at all.

Harry let all the other students slide past him in the Entrance Hall. All his instincts told him that he didn’t want to go in the Great Hall and face the end-of-the-year speech from Dumbledore.

Last night Harry had been called up to the Headmaster’s office wherein he was told the whole speech. Dumbledore didn’t want him to be surprised by it. And nothing Harry said could convince the old man not to say that speech.

When Dumbledore warned him that it was speech about him, Harry hadn’t truly thought that it was such in a depth speech about him. It spoke of everything he had done over the past six years at Hogwarts and why he did them. However, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were always brought into play throughout the speech. In truth, it was a speech about Harry with a series of side speeches about his friends.

All in all, it wasn’t what he wanted.

So he stood in the shadows of the Entrance Hall, refusing to budge any farther, even though he said he would indeed come to the end-of-the-year speech. He hadn’t promised though, just said he would. Doesn’t mean what time he’d go.

Sighing, he watched as the hall cleared and one last Hufflepuff second-year scampered in. “What’s the problem Potter, forgotten how to walk?” Snape’s snide voice suddenly cut through Harry was a jerk.

“W-what?” Harry said. “Oh no,” he could sense Snape lurking in the shadows behind him.

“Then why aren’t you going to the feast? I hear the speech is all about you this year? Want to make an entrance?” he snarled and Harry sighed.

“Do you really believe that sir?” Harry demanded and for a minute there was no response.

“So, what’s the matter Mr. Potter?” Snape said, his tone no longer sarcastic just matter-of-fact.

“Nothing,” Harry lied and Snape sighed.

“Mr. Potter, I’m not going to stand here and go through this!” He snapped. “Tell me what the matter is, or get out of my way so I can go to the feast!”

Harry stepped to the side so Snape could go by. “Potter, do you truly think I was serious? I’m not going to the feast until you tell me what’s the matter.” Harry sighed heavily and shrugged.

“I just want to go and hear Dumbledore preach about my last six years of Hogwarts, I have enough attention as it is!” Harry snarled and Snape shifted in the shadows. “It’s just,” he paused for a second. “Everything was going fine, and then now it’s just seems to be falling apart.” He stopped talking and watched as another batch of students entered the Great Hall.

“Oh? How’s that?” Snape’s voice was almost sarcastic yet wondering at the same time.

“It’s just, after the dementor attack, when it was the school that fought back and I was off in the dungeons, for once I had no attention. I liked that. I never wanted this blasted fame,” Harry added for the sake of his mind in front of Snape. “Now, Dumbledore’s just going to bring that back without a thought. And to top it off, I have nowhere to go over the summer! I’m the reason Mrs. Weasley’s almost stressed to the limit. All of the Weasleys will be gone at the beginning of the summer, and I’m just...there. Damn the Dursleys. I really should be happy that I don’t have to see them, but at the same time it bothers me. So, I’ve got nowhere to go and I hate bumming off my friends, really. It just everything seems to be falling apart.”

Harry moaned slightly and he was steadily aware that the world was suddenly dropping. He couldn’t explain why, but the stress of having to worry about where he was going to stay over the summer, the stress of making other people stress over it too, and then the stress of having to deal with more whispers and pointing all over again, it just starting to get to him.

He hadn’t realized that his knees had buckled out beneath him. Snape’s movements were quick and in a second, he had caught Harry and was hoisting him up.

“You can face the Dark Lord, but...” he never fished his sarcastic remark. “Forget it.” He muttered more to himself then anyone else. Harry could feel Snape waiting while he gathered himself up again. He felt his cheeks flushing a bit but decided it was for the best that Snape didn’t just let him fall. A few minutes later, Harry had regained himself and was pulling himself free of Snape’s grip. Instantly Snape let go of him.

“Better?” Snape asked, impassively.

“Hmm...” Harry shrugged. He was still stressed. “I’ll deal, I usually do. I guess we better get to the feast, told Ron and Hermione to save me a seat.” He made to walk but Snape suddenly grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

“How ‘bout we make a deal Potter.” He suggested and Harry cocked his head slightly to show he was listening. “If you can survive this feast without complaining once, and make eye-contact with everyone without snarling, glaring, or scowling, which I’ve seen you do; on the last day of school I’ll wear that bloody prank shirt of the twins. The black one, of course.”

Harry turned around a bit, a smile on his face. “Can you handle that Potter?”

“Can you handle wearing that shirt?” Harry asked with a wicked smirk. “No scowling, no muttering threats, no complaining, and no glaring. I can handle that, possibly. I have been spending a lot of time with you, sir.”

“Deal,” said Snape but once again stopped Harry when the boy made to walk to the feast. “Just a few more things. Contrary to popular belief, I do not live in the dungeons all year long; actually I have a regular ole house on a regular neighborhood.” Harry corked and eyebrow.

“How very—erm—interesting.” Harry said and Snape growled a bit.

“Also,” Snape carried on. “Contrary to your own belief, you did not pass your final; therefore you did not make it into next year’s Potions class.” Harry gaped.

“Wait, how’s the possible? There were only four questions.” Harry gasped.

“You’re the one who failed.” Snape pointed out and Harry growled a bit. He really was spending too much time around Snape. “Fine, you told me your favorite potion was Laughing Potion, which I know not to be true. You’re favorite potion is Stone-Pop Potion, one you’re not supposed to know about but used during that week you and Miss Weasley played all those pranks. I also heard you comment to Miss Weasley how much you liked that potion.”

“Pop-up book from hell,” Harry muttered to himself as Snape carried on.

“Also, when I asked which potion you despised, I did not mean in the sense of taste, and I know for a fact that you despise the truth potion. Seeing as you’ve been threatened with it several times.”

“Yeah, by you.” Harry muttered again. Snape pretended not to hear.

“I’ve heard to comment on several occasions to your friends how much you despise it. On top of those two questions wrong, you also called me mental. That was more or less the draw for passing.” Snape pointed out.

“That’s not fair!” Harry protested. “You weren’t even supposed to give us a final anyway.”

“Actually, all I said was I wouldn’t give you the sixth year potion final, not a final. And you failed that anyway.” Harry glowered and Snape smirked darkly. “However, I am willing you make a bargain. Seeing as you need to stay in potions, and are starting to acquire a—ah how should I say it—a certain knack of potion brewing, I’m willing to tutor you.” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s—erm—good I guess. We should go, the feast is about to begin.” He made to walk off.

“Potter!” Snape barked and Harry turned around, startled. “Do you seriously think I told you that I lived in a house for no reason?”

“You tend to ramble at times,” Harry said jokingly and Snape glowered. “You know, when you get angry and it no longer gets cold...the effect is kind of ruined.”

“Yes, the one thing I do miss. And no I do not ramble!” Snape snarled and Harry sighed. “Now, as for my house, it tends to get a bit lonely during the summer, especially being surrounded by muggles, and seeing as you need to be tutored in potions and some place to stay...well...” Snape trailed of awkwardly.

“Err—are you offering...” Harry found himself trailing off and Snape nodded a bit stiffly. Harry had the suspicion that Snape was just now realizing what he was doing. Actually, Harry was having a hard time believing he had heard correctly.

“Only because you need tutoring,” Snape said stiffly.

“So you live in a neighborhood full of muggles, eh? Could be interesting...see how you are around muggles.” Harry chuckled slightly, still not believing what he heard and having an even harder time believing that he was agreeing. Snape seemed surprised that he was agreeing too.

“Well, I tend to avoid them. So it’s a yes?” He asked his voice almost desperate sounding.

“Yes, it’s a yes.” Harry declared quickly, knowing that if he waited any longer he might change his mind. “C’mon, it’s going to start soon and I want it over as soon as possible so I can see you wearing that shirt.”

“Potter,” Snape warned and Harry smiled lopsided at him.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“I’m not a pop-up book from hell,” Snape declared.

“Alright, you’re a pop-up book from the dungeons.” Harry informed and Snape glowered. A group of Ravenclaws scampered by them as they made their way into the Great Hall. Ever so slightly, Harry paused and someone pushed him forward, reassuringly.

Startled Harry looked over his shoulder and found Snape behind him. The other times that Harry had been pushed forward...it had been Snape?

Snape snarled at a Ravenclaw who dared to glance at him and as he made to walk in, he leaned over enough to whisper in Harry’s ear.

“Took you long enough,” he murmured and walked on in. Harry followed him and glancing at the Staff Table he found Dumbledore watching him with twinkling eyes. Harry sat down next to Ginny and Ron.

“This is going to be horrid,” Ron muttered. The Great Hall was decked out in Hufflepuff colors, seeing as they won the House Cup. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh I think there’ll be something good coming out of this feast.” Harry smiled darkly and glanced at Snape who was glowering at him.

888

“Look!” students muttered and hissed throughout the Entrance Hall was packed full of students and trunks. “Snape’s wearing that shirt of him and McGonagall dancing.”

Throughout the students were turning, muttering and gawking at Snape as he billowed through, his robes flapping out, but the shirt quite visible underneath it. He was walking quickly and making beeline for Harry, who was resting on his trunk and watching Ron’s antics in getting his trunk closed with amused eyes.

“Potter,” he snarled as he came up to the boy. Harry looked up wonderingly. “Detention for the beginning of next year. For making this bloody shirt and then failing in the deal to growl and snarl at people.”

“Not fair,” Harry pointed out.

“I’m not fair,” Snape snarled before walking off. Luckily, no one but Ron and Hermione had heard that and seeing as they already knew what had happened in the Entrance Hall before the feast, they weren’t surprised.

It had already been set, Harry was going to ride the train to the platform, get on the train that went to Yorkshire, from platform eleven at six o’clock, find Snape, and spend the summer at his house. Then, on his birthday, when the Weasleys would finally be back, Harry would join them at the Burrow, along with Hermione.

Harry had spent his the night before in Snape’s office with Dumbledore working out the details. Dumbledore’s eyes hadn’t stopped twinkling throughout the whole meeting and by the end both Snape and Harry were disgusted by twinkling eyes.

“C’mon mate, let’s get onto the train.” Ron finally said as he snapped his trunk shut.

888

The train ride was slow and fun. Harry kept challenging Ron to chess and they ended up spending quite a lot of time playing.

Malfoy and his crones didn’t make the annual trip to their compartment which was a relief to Harry. Neville and Luna found there way to the compartment after the food-cart witch came by.

“So, mate,” Ron finally said after a long pause. After Harry had told Ron, Hermione, and Ginny about his arrangements for the summer there had been a lot arguments, then a bit of understanding. Snape and Harry were both sticking strictly to the excuse of this as being nothing more then a basis of potion tutoring. “You think you’ll survive?”

“Hopefully,” Harry said as Ginny wrapped her arm around his waist.

“You know, if you told me this last year, that you’d be spending my summer with Snape, I would’ve had you committed.” Ginny informed and Harry laughed ruefully.

“I still might, myself.” Harry laughed slightly. Ron chewed his bottom lip, obviously wanting to say more then he already had in their argument but Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist to keep him quiet. Harry was grateful. He wasn’t sure he could handle Ron’s criticism. It was hard enough baring the fact already, and Ron wouldn’t help.

He knew he’d come to a truce with Snape, and was actually starting to look at the man as a slight mentor, or a very, very, very distinct uncle.

“So, did you hear the Chudley Canons won their match?” Hermione said, surprising them all, especially Ron.

“When have you taken up an interest in Chudley?” Ron asked, bemused.

“Just thought I might see why you’re so fond of them,” Hermione giggled and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Get a room,” he suggested as Hermione kissed room.

“Yeah, spare us,” Neville moaned. Glancing around Harry found that all the ones who had been part of the final battle were sitting there and they all had their arms wrapped around the one they loved. Funny, he thought, how they all loved the ones inside the circle.

Ginny must’ve been thinking along the same lines, because when Harry met her eyes she was grinning.

“Exploding Snap?” she offered and Harry nodded. The other detached themselves and began to play. Ron must’ve been remembered the Entrance Hall game over Christmas holidays and was smiling to himself a bit. Harry caught on to his thoughts as did Hermione because they all shared a glance and smiled.

888

Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry for about five minutes, muttering her apologies about not being able to take him with them but thankful that he found somewhere to stay. Finally, she pulled free and went over to Ginny.

The farewells were long and slow. Harry said bye to all the Weasleys, informing them all that he was fine and looking forward to coming over on his birthday. He hugged and kissed Ginny, which caused a lot of hooting from Charlie and the twins.

Mrs. Weasley hugged him one last time and they left. The twins asking him when his train left before grinning wickedly and leaving. He met Ginny’s eye and they shrugged.

Hermione left with her parents around the same time that Neville left with his grandmother and Luna left with her father. Glancing at the train station clock, Harry found he had an hour to kill before his train arrived.

Shrugging, he walked over to a snack-booth, bought some muggle chocolate bars and set on a bench to wait.

It was a rather eventful wait, Harry watching all the muggles scurry to and fro. He found he enjoyed it when no one looked at him as if they were his best friends and even more when he could watch muggles just run around in pure confusion when two trains were mixed up with their departure times.

Sometimes he felt completely Slytherin.

Finally, six o’clock rolled around and he watched as the Yorkshire train pulled into the station. Snape said traveling by muggle transport would be easier then traveling by magical means. Apparently he had watchful neighbors, just about as watchful as Privet Drive neighbors and there were wards around the house the prohibited magical entry. Snape would have to establish the floo network from inside the house once they were there.

Harry waited until the train stopped and the passengers that were leaving got off. Then he climbed to his feet. An odd feeling in thinking that he was going to live with Snape for the summer. He couldn’t decide if it was foreboding or relief.

After pushing his way through muggles who were just walking up and down the train, he finally found the compartment Snape was in. He was sitting the corner, bundled up in black cloak that Harry knew was hiding his muggle clothing. He was staring out the window as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

For a minute Harry thought someone was watching him but when he turned around there was no one in sight. Though he thought he heard someone sniggering. Rolling his eyes, he pushed into the compartment.

Snape looked over at him and nodded his head in greeting. Harry shoved his trunk into the racks above and flopped down into his seat. Snape glanced around, found that the area in front of their compartment was empty and cast a round of three spells. One to keep anything they said in the compartment so it wasn’t overhead, another to keep any and all muggles away and another to made the compartment look empty.

“We don’t have tickets, nor do we want company.” He informed as Harry raised an eyebrow. Harry didn’t feel like pointing that that the spell that kept muggles away would also keep the ticket taker away too. “It’s only a two hour ride, thank Merlin.”

“Yes,” Harry was looking out the compartment window on the door with an odd look. He swore he saw a flash of red or maybe something orange, he couldn’t be too sure.

“What? Muggles will just walk by, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Snape snarled and Harry rolled his eyes.

“No, I know that.” Harry said pointedly glancing back at Snape and seeing that he was wearing a plain black button up shirt. And a pair of casual black slacks. Of course, Snape wouldn’t wear any other color beside black. At least he knew what muggles wore. “You changed your shirt.”

“Yes,” Snape snarled in a voice that clearly said he was not to say anything about it.

Then, suddenly, the compartment door burst open and in rolled two crystal clear blue orbs. Snape jumped up, obviously to get rid of them but Harry was quicker. He jumped up, grabbed Snape was swung him into the farthest corner of the compartment.

There wasn’t an explosion but suddenly a blue fog filled the room and within seconds it was gone. The fog hadn’t traveled too far but it had hit Snape and Harry enough.

Drawing backward, Harry looked at Snape with wide eyes and Snape gawked at him.

Snape suddenly had hair like Harry, unruly and almost like a bird’s next, except the color was different. It was bright pink. And upon Snape’s black shirt was the design of a pink muggle stop sign that read in large letter, ‘No, Stop!’

Harry mustn’t have looked much better because Snape was gawking. Reaching up Harry could feel his hair was ungodly greasy and long, and a strand fell into his eyes. It was a deep violet color. Harry’s own brown shirt had a violet sign that read in large letters. ‘No, Go!”

“Hey, Harry, like the orbs, they change your hair with whoever you’re touching and gives you shirt a nice design.” Harry spun around and found the twins standing in the entrance of the compartment. In a flash they clicked a picture of them and took off running, laughing.

“I thought I saw Weasley hair,” Harry mumbled as Snape swept past him, his eyes flashing. Luckily for the twins, they had escaped and the train was starting to move. Snape’s eyes glided onto Harry.

“You’ll never breath a word of this,” he snarled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said pointing to his own hair. “Anyway, I think Fred and George will do that for us.” Snape sighed in a way that said ‘I know’ and then sat down in his seat, farthest from the window now.

Harry watched as the scenery whipped by as the train picked up speed and then reached into his trunk and pulled out a chess set.

“Chess?” he suggested as Snape sat forward, glowering still, and began to play.

Harry suddenly felt as if his life had fallen together. He hadn’t felt this way, ever. It was like he could live it anyway he wanted to, without any worries except teenage ones. He was living his own life. He smiled to himself.

“So it begins,” he said to himself as he moved his rook to take a knight.