Harry shivered as a thin, biting breeze blew its way through the owlery, pinching his cheeks into a ruddy red, as he pulled his coat tighter about him. Around him a hundred yellow eyes were watching, blinking at him expectantly as he read the letter back. He knew that the Veritaserum had been clinging to his veins as he had written; after he had left Snape pacing awkwardly in his dungeon, muttering under his breath. As Harry read it back to himself now, he knew that it was stupid to send a letter that no-one would read. Yet something about the way the ink had left the impression of his words, words of truth in the yellowing parchment, comforted him. As he read them over now, his heart seemed to drain of the pain of last night; the pain of remembering the night his parents had died. All that mattered was that this letter would be the first Harry had sent in a very long time. It was the act itself that was important.

Snape slipped some Veritaserum into my pumpkin juice at dinner last night before my detention with him. He asked me so many questions; things he should never have asked. He wanted to know about the night my mum and dad were murdered. I tried to fight it. I tried not to tell him. I just thought that maybe this is the kind of thing you should know. I know you’ll say I should tell Dumbledore, but I just needed to tell you first.

That was it, and as Harry folded the parchment and gestured to Hedwig to fly over, something made his stomach lurch as he whispered, “I want you to take this to Sirius.”

Hedwig blinked confused, nipping at one of Harry’s fingers as if to reassure him.

“I know Hedwig…” Harry’s voice was small in the wind that seemed to run its fingers through his hair, “I know that you can’t.” Hedwig’s eyes were wide as Harry held out the letter for her to take, “But please…”

If Hedwig had been just an ordinary owl Harry wouldn’t have even asked. But, knowing that she understood, without question, some of Harry’s strangest requests, he hadn’t even hesitated before waking her up. With a ruffle of her feathers Hedwig took the letter and, after stretching her wings out to test them, she swooped off of Harry’s arm and out into the air.

Harry tightened the red and gold scarf about his neck as he stood watching Hedwig fly off in the distance. Soon, all Harry could see was her graceful black outline etched against the sky, which was becoming rich with the golden sunlight that was slowly creeping over the top of the Forbidden Forest. He knew what he had asked had been impossible; he hardly expected Hedwig to understand. Yet he found comfort in watching Hedwig disappearing into the distance, carrying a letter that was addressed to Sirius; a letter with no destination.

“What do you think?” Ron asked, shaking out an overly sized moron jumper which had arrived for him first thing this morning. Harry had just entered the room in time to see Ron unwrap it and as he sat watching Ron holding up the jumper against his chest, he could still clearly see the impression of Hedwig against the early morning sun.

“It’s erm…” Harry wanted to say nice, although Ron would know this was a lie. “It’s…erm…interesting…”

“It’s blooming awful that’s what it is,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes as he let the jumper fall to the bed. Harry glanced at the clock that was projected on the ceiling; a present to Neville from his grandmother in a vain attempt to make sure he was always on time for classes. Harry had at least fifteen minutes before he had to get ready and, after throwing a well rehearsed sympathetic glance in Ron’s direction, he flopped back on the bed and opened a copy of “101 Illegal Quidditch Moves.”

“What do you think of Lavender?” Ron asked with a forced flippancy which caused Harry to stop reading and peer at him over the top of his glasses.

“I don’t know…I mean she’s alright I guess…quite pretty in an average kind of way.” Ron seemed to nod in agreement before responding, “Yeh, she is quite pretty, isn’t she?”

“And silly…” Harry offered, not sure he liked the way Ron was carrying on with this topic. Ron screwed up his nose as he said this, before replying, “Oh yeh…I guess she’s no Hermione is she? Taking everything dead seriously I mean.”

“I don’t think there is another girl at Hogwarts like Hermione.” Harry watched Ron very carefully as he said this, for any of the tell tale signs of something which Harry had long suspected. True to form, a subtle blush had spread across Ron’s cheeks; his eyes had grown distant and glazed all of a sudden.

“She’s alright though isn’t she?” Ron said, breathy and (dared Harry even think it) lovingly. Harry hesitated, forgetting the magazine he had opened by his side.

“Who…who are we talking about Ron?”

Ron blushed, his eyes once again clearly focused on Harry as he rapidly tried to save him self from any further embarrassment, “Lavender of course!” Harry smiled to offer Ron some kind support before turning his attention once more to the pictures of Quidditch players performing moves that Harry hadn’t even dreamt about. He was only giving the magazine half of his attention; his mind was full of unwanted images of his two best friends…together…and not in the kind of way that Harry could approve of. He had seen this coming along way off, although any suggestion he had ever made about this to either Ron or Hermione had always been met with scoffs of disbelief. Yet it wouldn’t be long before they stumbled onto the inevitable truth; probably by accident knowing them two; and then everything within their little, close knit group would change. Something would go wrong one day and Harry had already experienced what it was like to be the go between towards the two; if they broke up after going out it would be a hundred times worse.

Suddenly Harry was drawn out of this train of thought by someone almost falling into the room, attempting to steady them selves before stumbling over one of the many pairs of shoes that littered the floor.

“Neville!” Ron scooted over to the edge of his bed, holding out his hand to pull Neville to his feet. Harry threw his magazine aside and jumped to his feet just in time to see Neville, his face a deep red, appear from over the top of Ron’s bed.

“I…I…” Neville muttered, his eyes wide as he looked down at the pieces of parchment that had slipped out of his hands and had scattered across the bedroom floor. Harry and Ron began to help Neville pick them up and Ron, who had most of the pieces now in his arms, was screwing up his eyes as he tried to read what was written upside down.

“What is this?” As he said this however, Harry had seen the title page on the floor and had bent down to pick it up. “Discuss the importance of the Mandrias Balancing System in the construction of a successful potion.”

“It’s just Neville’s potion essay,” began Harry before noticing the mark which was written in a small circle in the corner of the page. Harry gulped in disbelief before turning to Ron and handing him the page. Harry waited for Ron to see what Harry had and, true to form; Ron reacted exactly as Harry had expected he would.

“Bloody hell Neville! You got full marks!”

When Ron told Hermione that lunchtime about Neville’s spectacular achievement in his potions essay, Hermione nearly choked on her sandwiches. After throwing Neville a congratulatory glance where he was sat further down the table, Hermione could barely contain her shock as she said, “I never helped him with his essay. It was the first time in ages that I hadn’t. I don’t know how he could have done it without me.”

“That’s why I like you Hermione, you’re just so modest.” Harry grinned; Ron added an affectionate dig of the elbow just for good measure, to be met with a look of complete contempt from Hermione.

“She’s got a point though Ron,” Harry offered in an attempt to prevent the argument from even starting, “When have you ever known Neville to get full marks? In anything?”

“Especially Potions…he’s hopeless!” Ron took a sharp intake of breath and even Harry was shocked at the bluntness of what Hermione had said. “Well it’s true! And let’s not forget who it was that marked that essay…”

Ron and Harry looked at each other. Snape. They had forgotten that rather large detail. Asides from Harry, Neville was Snape’s other favourite target for double potions on a Monday afternoon; and this was probably due to the fact the Neville was absolutely hopeless at it. No, hopeless was maybe a bit unfair. It was the presence of Snape that made it worse for Neville, who had revealed in the DADA class in the third year that Snape was the thing that frightened him most. It was therefore virtually impossible that he would ever achieve anything above half marks in his essays for Potions, let alone a perfect score.

“He’s lost it then,” Ron said, taking a swig of pumpkin juice before continuing, “Snape must have gone mad…or made a mistake. There is no way he’d ever give anyone full marks, let alone Neville.”

“What was he like in detention last night?” Harry, who had been silently contemplating things to himself, looked up at Hermione. For a moment he almost told them everything; about the Veritaserum, about the questions that he had asked, about his own reaction. But something inside him held him back. No…he couldn’t tell Ron and Hermione; not this time. This was something he knew he had to conquer on his own.

“Oh you know…he was his usual charming self.”

“But he didn’t do anything, did he? You didn’t notice anything…odd?” Something about the way Hermione asked this made Harry think that maybe she had seen him this morning, making his way across the grounds, the letter to Sirius in his hands. Maybe Hermione had already guessed that his detentions with Snape had not exactly been normal.

“Odder than normal?” Ron smirked, pushing his plate away from him and patting his stomach satisfactorily. Hermione struggled to suppress a smile. “Oh come on Hermione, you know Snape isn’t exactly…well…” Ron didn’t even need to finish his sentence. Both Harry and Hermione knew exactly what he meant.

“I just don’t understand it,” Hermione glanced at her watch before beginning to push her books back into her bag, “One minute Neville can hardly breathe straight in Potions, and the next he’s getting full marks.”

I don’t understand it either Harry thought to himself, trying to remember back to the night before last when he had seen Snape marking their essays.

“Ron, what are you doing?” Hermione snapped at Ron, who had leant across the table and was now in the process of taking yet another sandwich. “You haven’t got any time to sit and stuff your face. I thought you’d agreed to use this free period to work on your Transfiguration.”

“It’s not like we can go to the library.” Harry winced in expectation but, to his surprise, Hermione’s voice was completely cool as she replied, “I made enough notes when we where in there on Monday. We can work in the common room, no problem.”

Reluctantly Ron pushed out his stool, rising to his feet as slowly as possible in order to prolong his departure. Harry looked at him with sympathy; even if Ron did fancy Hermione it still didn’t make him any more enthusiastic about the prospect of studying with her.

“I guess I’ll see you later then,” Ron said as dejected as possible. Harry took a bite out of the sandwich which Ron had been forced to leave on his plate and smirked as he said, “Have fun.”