“How brilliant is this?” Ron exclaimed excitedly. He, Harry and Hermione were walking towards the Great Hall for Harry's first evening back amongst the other students. It had been two days since the news of the Slytherin's restrictions had spread throughout the school in a plague of gossip, contempt and, most often, good cheer.

It was a rather horrifying display to watch.

“Hardly brilliant, Ron. How would you feel if you were in their position?” Hermione scolded impatiently. She'd regarded the whole situation as 'highly discrediting and undermining'. Harry could nearly smell the S.P.E.W.-like badges in the making.

They were slowly walking the final flight of steps to the Entrance Hall and Harry could barely stomach the thought of eating. He felt far more nervous now then he had been before any Quidditch match.

It will be all right, he assured himself nervously. The noise and chatter from the Great Hall became louder as he neared the open double doors, the warmth spilling out into the deserted hall. According to Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning, requesting that they didn't badger him or ask him questions about the Tournament. Harry was eternally grateful.

The last stragglers that hadn't left for dinner skirted him in the corridors, he noticed, refusing to meet his gaze. Others whispered behind their hands as he walked by. They obviously believed Skeeter's articles about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. Perhaps they were formulating their own idea's about how Cedric died, Harry thought sardonically. He found he didn't care very much.

The three walked wearily into the Hall. A wave of silence descended with the occasional mutter and pointing finger in Harry's direction as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. The tension was almost palpable.

They took a seat near the end of the table amongst Neville, Ginny and Seamus, all of whom were nodding at Harry warmly. Harry took the seat between Hermione and Neville, sitting across from Ron and his sister. He attempted to make himself as small and insignificant as possible and awkwardly began piling food on his plate.

Gradually, the buzz of gossip began again and most of the students turned back to their meals. Harry dared a glance towards the staff table, catching Dumbledore's eye. He gave Harry a reassuring nod, his eyes slightly less jubilant than they could have been.

Harry returned the nod and brought his attention back to his full plate, most of which, he noted, had been Hermione's doing. He glared at her while she returned a highly innocent expression and Ron snickered. Harry sighed and slowly began to cleave through the mound. Conversation around him restarted and flitted into his mind occasionally, mostly Ron and Seamus discussing Quidditch.

Eventually the topic changed to the Slytherin's and their newly imposed regulations.

“It's the best thing they could've done!” said Seamus, his voice dripping with sadistic happiness. Ron agreed profusely.

“Too right. Malfoy won't be able to flaunt that wand of his around any more,” he said happily. Harry had to grin at that. Malfoy wouldn't have the courage to begin harassing them now.

“Really, you're being very narrow minded,” said Hermione, an expression too alike their Head of House for comfort.

“Fudge must've had a good reason, even if it is a little extreme,” said Ginny matter-of-factly. Neville nodded in agreement.

“Don't tell me you've joined the bloody 'we love Slytherin' band wagon and all?” Ron asked him.

“We don't love the Slytherins. We're just saying it's a bit unfair,” said Ginny defensively.

“A bit unfair? It's Death Eaters we're dealing with. Nothing's 'a bit unfair,” exclaimed Ron haughtily.

Harry didn't say anything. He stared at his still full plate, picking at some of the roast pork.

“We're well aware of who -” Hermione kicked Ron's shin beneath the table, “we are dealing with, Ron,” she said warningly. She gave him an exasperated expression and inclined her head towards Harry (who was blatantly ignoring them).

“Oh,” he said feebly, his ears reddening slightly. He returned his attention to his meal.

“Well, it's still bloody marvellous. No more late night detentions with Snape,” said Seamus happily. Too much of their evenings were being spent scrubbing cauldrons in the frigid dungeons.

“Never thought about that,” said Neville quietly, as though he were afraid that the Potions Master might over hear. “What do you think he'll do now?”

“Dunno,” said Ron eagerly, “maybe he'll have to stop giving detentions out altogether.”

“Or send you to another teacher for them,” sighed Hermione, “do try to use your mind Ronald.”

“I would but someone's made me lose it,” he shot back. Hermione huffed indignantly and angrily pierced a new potato.

Harry glanced towards the teachers table expectantly, waiting to find the obsidian gaze of the Potions Master upon them as though he knew exactly what they were discussing. Snape's seat was vacant.

“That's strange,” Harry muttered to himself. Hermione glanced at him.

“What is?” she asked curiously.

“Snape,” said Harry, “he's still not here.”

“No,” said Hermione matter-of-factly, “but I expect he'll be back soon or Dumbledore would have found a replacement before now. I'm sure of it.”

“And just when we were getting used to a peaceful life without Potions,” said Ron wistfully. Neville laughed nervously.

“You never know,” added Seamus hopefully, “we might have a substitute tomorrow. It's been ages since he disappeared, hasn't it?”

“Maybe it's just been difficult to find a replacement at such short notice,” said Ginny.

“Can't help but wonder where he's gotten to, though. Not even the Slytherins know,” Seamus said suspiciously. Hermione huffed indignantly.

“You'd think after four years you'd get past this trust issue with him. Dumbledore has his reasons, that should be enough for everyone,” she said haughtily.

“Yeah, but I'm still worried,” said Harry quietly.

“About Snape?” Ron asked disbelievingly.

“No. That he's betrayed us.”

*

Wednesday. It meant early morning Potions for the Slytherins and Gryffinors, who walked towards the dungeons in relatively high spirits, Snape not having made an appearance at breakfast once again. Harry was slightly more subdued as he trudged towards the familiar classroom.

They all took their seats and began talking amongst themselves, without any anticipation for a lesson that day. How wrong they were.

The heavy door to the classroom slammed open noisily, startling everyone in the room into a stunned silence. They all stared toward the entrance when no one entered. Harry and Ron shared a quizzical look. In the doorway a short, heavyset figure hovered before taking a single step into the room. It obviously wasn't Snape.

This man was significantly shorter, about a head shorter than Harry and was wearing what appeared to be a Muggle suit beneath his open outer robes. His stern face portrayed no emotion except mild irritation, as though the presence of the students was nothing but a fly he couldn't seem to swat. Harry instantly disliked him. The man took another, slow step into the room and surveyed them.

“Remain in your seats,” he said sternly, his voice pompously educated, “do not move, do not speak.” With that, he turned towards the door, nodded to a companion no one had noticed and walked fully into the room.

Sounds of a struggle from outside drew the attention of both the Gryffindors and Slytherins as another man, taller and apparently the muscle of the two, dragged a thinner figure in. They wrestled with each other for a moment before Butch, as Harry decided to call him, lifted one meaty fist and brought it forcefully against the other's face. A face Harry barely recognised.

The curtain of black hair was greasier than ever and the large hooked nose was swollen and bruised, as though it has been broken. One obsidian eye was tinged with black and blue and the lip began bleeding anew from the blow. Again, Butch raised his hand making his captive flinch away from him and fight with renewed vigour.

The other students began to piece together the identity of the Butch's prisoner and a resounding gasp echoed throughout the room. Hermione placed a hand over her mouth in horror. The Slytherins were outraged. They began to rise from their seats to protest but the shorter of the two men rose a hand.

“Please, remain in your seats,” he said forcefully, not an ounce of politeness in his tone despite the words. The Slytherins hesitantly lowered themselves back into their chairs. He then turned to the bound Snape, “where?”

Snape stared at him disdainfully, his lip curling in a snarl. The shorter man took a threatening step towards him. “Where?” he asked again, angrily. Snape glared at him, then looked away. The man pursued his gaze. He stepped closer, straightening himself to his full height, locking eyes with the Potions Master. Snape spat in his face.

Crack. Butch had struck him again, this time sending him to the floor where he landed awkwardly on his left arm. He hissed at the searing pain while Tweed, as Harry named him, wiped disgustedly at his face with a handkerchief. He tutted at him as though he were nothing more than a misbehaving child.

“Fine, I was willing to do this on your own terms. As this is not the case ...” he pulled out his wand, “Legilimens.”

Harry looked to Hermione in confusion. He'd never heard of such a spell. She shook her head at him, a gesture which said she'd tell him later. He returned his attention back to Snape who seemed to be fighting an internal battle. He and Tweed seemed to be in some sort of trance, their eyes were locked and unblinking. Tweeds finally lifted his wand, breaking the spell.

Snape shuddered and his shoulders slumped. He didn't move from his position on the floor. He was breathing heavily and had closed his eyes. Harry couldn't sit there any longer. He rose angrily from his seat.

“Sit,” Tweeds barked, not even looking at him.

“No,” said Harry defiantly. Tweeds turned to him impatiently. Snape glanced at him but Harry couldn't fathom the emotion in his eyes.

“Well, well, well,” Tweeds muttered. “If it isn't Harry Potter.” Harry glared at him. “This doesn't concern you, lad. Sit down.”

“It concerns all of us if it concerns Hogwarts,” countered Harry stubbornly.

“It doesn't concern Hogwarts. It concerns him,” he nudged Snape with the tip of a boot, “and myself.”

Snape sneered at the man and gave Harry a warning look. Harry ignored it.

“He's a part of Hogwarts. All of the Professors are.”

“Technically, Slytherin isn't,” said Tweeds slickly, “not any more.”

Harry gaped at him. Was that true? That couldn't be right. He glanced towards the other students in the room, all of whom looked just as startled and confused as he felt. Hermione stood then.

“Doesn't make them any less human,” she said furiously. Harry resisted the urge to smile at her.

“And who might you be, dear?” asked Tweeds sleazily.

“Hermione Granger,” she answered shortly.

“Granger. Muggleborn, am I right?”

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. Harry felt the same way. He wanted to know what Tweeds was getting at. The pompous man simply nodded, as though to say that that explained everything. Hermione bristled. Ron stood from his seat then, as did Neville and a few other Gryffindors, all of whom were fuming at the implication.

“Don't you dare even think it!” Ron snarled, his face becoming as red as his flaming hair.

“Don't I dare? I cast no aspersions, lad,” Tweeds took a step towards the three of them. He fell to the floor in a tangle of robes as he did. Harry stared in surprised, then looked towards Snape. As the man had lain forgotten he's swept the legs out from under Tweeds, which earned him a heavy smack to the back of the head from Butch. “I've had enough of you!” Tweeds shouted furiously at Snape as he brandished his wand.

He raised it, opened his mouth and -

“Expelliarmus!” There was a brilliant flash of light, and with a great splintering and crashing sound Tweeds was thrown backwards into a vacant chair at the other end of the classroom, smashing it apart. Everyone in the room turned to stare towards the doorway, where Albus Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody were standing, Dumbledore in front, his wand outstretched.

The look upon Dumbledore's face as he stared down at the unconscious and bleeding form of Tweeds was nearly as terrible as it had been when he's Stunned Barty Crouch. There was cold fury in every line of the ancient face, there was no benign smile or twinkling in the eyes behind the spectacles.

He stepped into the classroom and Butch shuffled hurriedly away. Away from both him and Snape, who still sat staring at Tweeds. Professor McGonagall went straight to Snape, while Moody went to inspect the unconscious man.

“Come along, Severus,” she whispered to him. “Get up ... that's it ...” She helped Snape to his feet where he swayed slightly, before she gripped him by his uninjured arm. She looked towards Dumbledore, “hospital wing?”

Dumbledore rose a hand and gestured for them to wait a moment. He was watching Moody intently. Mad-Eye was rifling through the pockets of the other Wizard, pulling out cards and other documentation.

“Dermot Aeger. Auror,” he said shortly. Dumbledore nodded and turned to the students.

“I must firstly apologies to each of you,” he said gravely to the class, “such events so soon after the Tournament – it is unthinkable.” He glanced towards Harry. “I must ask for your discretion with this matter for the time being, until the appropriate actions have been taken.”

The class nodded, wide-eyed and watched as Moody began prodding Butch for information in the background. “You're free to return to your dormitories,” said Dumbledore, and as everyone shuffled out of the classroom pointed to each of them in turn and said, “Except for Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, if you please.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other worriedly.

“Dumbledore, I really must protest -” began McGonagall sternly. Snape was leaning heavily against her now.

“I'm sure a moment can be spared, Minerva -” he paused at the muffled sound of protest from Butch as Moody bound and gagged him with a fierce, 'how does it feel?' before he continued, “Please take Severus to the hospital wing.”

She shook her head irritably but didn't say anything as she helped a nearly unconscious Snape out of the dungeons.

“Always in the thick of things, aren't we?” said Dumbledore kindly, gracing them with a sad smile. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncertainly. “I need to know how the situation got so out of hand before we arrived.”

They all began at once.

“They were hitting Snape -” Harry began.

“Called Hermione a Mudblood -”

“Abusing Slytherin's rights -”

Dumbledore rose a hand to stop the tirade of excuses and half-tales.

“One at a time,” he said patiently, “from the beginning. Harry?”

“Well, they were hitting Snape, taking advantage of him. It wasn't fair so ...” he hesitated, “I tried to stop him. He used a spell on him, I don't know what it was -”

He looked towards Hermione. She kept her eyes firmly on Dumbledore.

“He performed Legilimency on him, Professor,” she said.

“I see,” said Dumbledore knowingly. “And how did the tw of you become involved in this fray?”

Hermione and Ron recounted the tale of how they had gotten involved with Aeger and his croney.

“It seems you have been quite involved in a political battle,” said Dumbledore, “but I must ask the you refrain in the future. It is better to be thought a fool, then speaking and removing all doubt. One say there may be a battle you cannot win.”

With that he graced them with a kind smile and exited the classroom, with Moody in toe. Butch and Aeger were floating precariously behind them.