‘Well it sounds risky to me,’ Molly said frowning.

She and most of the other members of the Order – Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin, Tonks, Arthur and Sirius had gathered for a meeting. They had been discussing their plan for over an hour. They were sat round the huge, round table in the dining room of Grimmauld place. Many years ago this had been the grand location of the Black’s frequent dinner parties; but the years of neglect and its occupation by a rather nasty crowd of Chizpurfles and their fangs, had left their traces and the room was now dull and decaying. The jade, velvet curtains with their silver silken trim – once the pride and joy of Walburga Black - hung threadbare and lifeless; the table, previously sturdy and imposing, creaked under the mere weight of the pots of tea and plates of ham sandwiches Dumbledore had provided; the floorboards were dull and unpolished, and Molly had had to remove several layers of dust from the upholstered chairs simply to make it possible to sit in them, and even then they had to shake the cushions out to avoid receiving a painful nip from one of the niffler babies that were keeping warm in the stuffing.

Worse from the physical appearance of the room, a strange feeling seemed to hang over it. All the members of the Order had remarked on it at previous meetings. Sirius felt worse of anyone. He had remembered when he was young and he used to sneak out of his bedchamber and listen at the door to his parents and their guests discuss unthinkable things. It was as though the malicious chatter and laughter from years ago still remained like ghosts in the shadows.

‘There is no question that it will be, as you rightly say Molly, “risky”’ Dumbledore said. ‘However, I believe that if we do not take action soon then the children will be killed. If indeed,’ he added, ‘they have not already.’

From his seat at the end of the table Snape stiffened, then just as immediately he forced his composure. He felt irritated with himself – he didn’t know why the fate of these children mattered so much to him.

‘What about you, Severus?’ Molly said hopefully, turning to him as she absentmindedly sipped the dregs of her stone-cold tea, ‘After all it is you that will be in the most danger …’

From the opposite end of the table Sirius snorted, ‘Though typically he will be far from the real danger!’ he spat. Living in his old home – especially sitting in this grim room - where he had also been admonished countless times by his father over breakfast – was getting to him. His temper was short and he could scarcely keep the bitterness out of his tone. Even the presence of Dumbledore had done nothing to clam him.

Snape turned to Sirius, tilting his large nose upwards with disdain. ‘And where exactly will you be, Black,’ he drawled, ‘safely tucked up in your childhood home with a cup of tea in your hand and perhaps the morning paper between your teeth?’

Sirius slammed his fist on the table and opened his mouth to retort, but Lupin, sensing yet-another bickering session between the two old enemies, beat him to it. ‘Perhaps we should take a vote on the matter?’ he suggested.

‘An excellent idea,’ Dumbledore agreed, ‘All those in favour if you would please raise your hands.’

Every hand but one shot into the air. Molly turned pink as she regarded her husband incredulously.

‘I’m sorry my dear,’ he said gently, ‘but there does seem to be no other choice. Just think how we would feel if it was three of our boys.’ A tense moment passed between husband and wife before, with resolve, Molly raised her own hand.

‘If you think it is the only way, Albus,’ she said. Everyone pretended not to notice as Arthur grabbed her other hand under the table and squeezed it.

‘Then we are all agreed,’ Dumbledore smiled. ‘Perhaps we should go over the finer details …’

Before the discussion could return to the problem at hand, however, a small voice interrupted them. It was Harry. He had woken up for the nap that he had been put down for less than an hour ago.

‘Nape!’ he said urgently.

Harry had managed to crawl easily out of the toddler bed Severus had placed him in and follow the sound of the grown-ups talking. He couldn’t wait, like he’d been told, for someone to come and get him because when he had woken up he had realised that he had wet himself. His trousers were cold and dripping and he felt very uncomfortable. He had been very angry with himself when he realised that he’d wet the bed, but Cheep-Cheep had made him laugh by turning loops and so he hadn’t burst into tears as had been his first instinct.

He walked shyly into the room with Cheep-Cheep tucked under his arm, keeping his legs as far away from each other as he could, so that he looked quite comical – as though he was wading in a muddy ditch.

‘Nape …?’ he pressed, his nose wrinkling up. Though he wanted to be dried and cleaned up by Snape as soon as possible, he didn’t want to announce to the crowded room exactly why he needed him; he was oblivious to the fact that the reason was very obvious, and that seven pairs of eyes were now watching Snape with amusement.

Snape’s eyes darkened as he looked at the toddler. Harry’s purple play-trousers had a dark patch that spread right over the front and down the legs and he was pulling at the material awkwardly. Inside Snape grimaced. This was the first ‘accident’ in a few days. Snape had hoped that the boy was getting used to using the potty. Still, he reasoned, it had occurred during his nap. Snape was putting nappies on the boy at night and so Harry could have been confused. He would, however, be having a little ‘chat’ with the toddler. He got up from his chair.

‘It’s alright,’ Molly said rising, ‘I’ll deal with this. You’re needed here.’

Snape paused for a moment. From the corner of his eye he saw Harry’s chin stick out. He didn’t know why, but Harry seemed to want him to do everything for him at the moment; he got into a sulk when Snape left him for even a moment and whined when anyone else – even Hermione – tried to contribute to his care in any way. Earlier that day when they had arrived at Grimmauld place, for example, he had run away and hidden under the table when Sirius tried to help him off with his travel-robes (Snape had been quite pleased at the look of hurt that crossed over Black’s face), and then he had followed Snape around like a puppy-dog till he had been put down for his nap.

Snape weighed up the probability of another tantrum if he didn’t clean Harry up himself against the satisfaction of allowing Molly to do it - and not giving the brat-who-lived everything that he wanted. In the end the latter won. Besides, if he left the others he was concerned that Molly would be able to convince them to ‘take more precautions’ or ‘wait a few more days’, and Snape knew that if they were to save the Pickles then there was no time to lose. He had grown increasingly irritated by the doubts and insinuations that he was not capable of carrying out with precision everything that he had told the Order that he would. He wondered if they quite realised exactly what he already had to do spy for them. If they realised what was involved in going against the powers of his former master then perhaps they would have more faith – not that he was in a mind, however, to convince them.

‘Very well,’ he said, sitting back down.

‘Nape do it!’ Harry said quietly. He was still intimidated by the room full of grown-ups, but he wanted to make it clear that he didn’t want the firewoman to dry him – he wanted the batman.

From the opposite end of the room, Sirius rolled his eyes and turned away from the toddler in disgust. A small part of him realised it was bravado, but stubbornly he refused to take any notice to it. He was furious that Harry had allowed himself to be taken in by Snape, and even more furious that Dumbledore had allowed them to get so close. He was confident that the elder Harry would be in full agreement and made up his mind to talk to Dumbledore about as soon as he had the chance.

‘No dear, Snape’s busy,’ Molly said brightly. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll get you cleaned up in a jiffy.

For a moment Harry was about to protest. He opened his mouth to whine again that he wanted Snape, but before he knew what was happening Mwolly had hold of his hand firmly and was escorting him from the room, chatting to him cheerfully. She wasn’t like Nape when he’d had an accident – he was usually quiet and moody, cleaning and changing Harry’s clothes with as few words as possible. Soon she had him giggling. She taught him a magic word that she said Moo-gels used: Abwa-cad-bra, or something like that.

The pair walked through the house back to Sirius’s room where Harry had been having his nap. Molly frowned as she saw the spell Snape had cast on Sirius’s bed to make it fit for Harry - it was a permanent charm. Really! she thought. They were like children themselves.

‘Say the magic word,’ she said as she stopped in front of the bed and pulled Harry round to face her, pointing her wand at him.

‘Abwa-cad-bra,’ Harry shouted. Instantly his trousers felt dry and he clapped his hands happily. ‘Mine!’ he said, holding his hand out for the wand.

‘One day,’ she said laughing. She then pointed it to the bed, ‘say it again,’ she said.

‘Ab-ca-da-bra’ Harry repeated. Molly felt the bed –

‘Bone dry,’ she said, ‘Well done you! Now, let’s get you out of those trousers.’

Molly tried to help Harry out of the trousers, but they seemed to have shrunk slightly with the spell and so, in the end, she picked him up and put him on the bed on his back so that she could get at him better. He watched her quite contentedly, and unusually still, as she removed his dirty things, lifted his legs in turn and cleaned him with several wipes – that were cold and made him squeal slightly – then finished the job properly with her wand. She chatted to him throughout. It was only when she asked him to put his feet in the leg holes of his yellow underpants that he started to kick. An idea had occurred to him. Being on his back, being talked to and being fussed over reminded him of being on the changing mat. He realised that he had missed that – it was yet another thing that he’d had to give up because he was ‘big’. All he got to do now was sit on the stupid potty with a boring book, concentrating on ‘going’. Perhaps he could persuade Mwolly to give him a nappy instead? Then he would definitely get more attention and he wouldn’t have to stop playing to sit on his potty.

‘Nappy?’ he said as she tried to guide his foot into the pants.

‘No dear,’ she said, ‘don’t worry; I won’t put a nappy on you. You can still wear your big boy pants. Accidents will happen but you’ll get there in the end.’

Harry’s face fell slightly. He kicked his feet slightly as she tried to pull his clothes on.

‘Keep still Harry,’ she said, ‘there’s a good boy.’

‘No pants!’ Harry said petulantly.

Molly mistook Harry’s eagerness for a nappy as apprehension that he would have another accident. She spoke words of encouragement as she deftly lifted him to his feet and dressed him. Harry struggled slightly, but Molly was used to resistance from toddlers and managed to keep him distracted enough that when he was dressed he wondered exactly how it had managed to happen.

‘There, that wasn’t so difficult now, was it?’ she said, admiring her handiwork. She had dressed Harry in his red and gold jumper with the lion on - which she hoped would remind him of his potty - and a pair of cotton trousers with an elastic waist which could be easily pulled off.

‘I baby,’ Harry said. He pushed his lip out sulkily as he imagined that a baby would.

‘No, you’re a big boy,’ Molly said, putting him on the floor, ‘Now stop worrying – no one thinks you’re a baby. You can come and play with your toys under the table if you want.’

Though Harry realised that his idea hadn’t worked very well, the prospect of playing in the ‘den’ he had built under the table was too much to resist. With a last look of disdain, Harry stalked off towards the room, his arms swinging violently at his sides. Grown-ups were so stupid. Didn’t the fire woman realise that Harry didn’t mind being a baby? Babies had much more fun than ‘big boys’.

After the meeting of the Order had eventually broken up, Molly prepared a bowl of hot stew for everyone in the kitchen. Snape reluctantly agreed to join the others. His patience was at breaking point, but he had the feeling that if he left before everyone else then he might miss something important.

‘Potter!’ he called as Molly put the hot-steaming bowls down on the table, ‘come to the table!’

Harry looked up from the corner where he was playing but didn’t move. The beardy-smiley man had cast a spell on an old pipe so that every time Harry blew in the end of it a cloud of bubbles filled the corner; he could then jump up and pop them all. It was very, very fun and he was reluctant to leave it.

‘Potter!’ Snape said, still irritated with the small boy, ‘I said it was lunch – Now! - If I have to come and get you then you will be sorry.’

‘Don’t speak to him like that!’ Sirius snapped at once.

‘Oh, by all means, Black, if you can do a better job then please go ahead,’ Snape snarled. Lupin beat them both to it. He stooped and picked Harry up on his way into the kitchen.

‘Come on trouble,’ he said, hoisting Harry over his shoulder, holding him by his feet like a sack of potatoes.

Harry giggled. His hair fell over his face and the blood rushed to his head as Lupin took him to the table and then pulled him upright and sat him down on his booster chair – Mwoony was silly.

‘Be careful with him,’ Molly warned.

‘I wouldn’t drop him!’ Lupin said, winking at Harry.

‘Well not on purpose,’ Molly muttered as she turned back towards the stove.

As the gathered members of the Order sat down to dinner the mood lightened considerably. Everyone chatted amicably with everyone else - with the exception of Snape, who remained quiet, not being inclined to ‘chat amicably’ with anyone – and the meal progressed pleasantly. Snape noticed Arthur wink at Molly as the pair of them watched Nymphadora and Lupin laughing together, oblivious to the conversations going on around them. He raised an eyebrow - it was obvious that they thought there was something going on between them. Privately he thought that the girl would be hopelessly naïve to even consider getting involved with someone who transformed at every full moon; but then again, she herself was something of an oddity. The other thing he noticed was the pale twinkling eyes that constantly lingered upon him - though he tried to shrug them off, refusing to make contact. He knew that Dumbledore would want to speak to him alone at the first opportunity. What he had to do to save the Pickles could have enormous repercussions and the elder man would want to give him the opportunity to rethink it. It annoyed him. Dumbledore knew him well enough to realise that he would decline, but for some reason felt he had to ask him anyway.

It was always the same when he and Dumbledore had meetings about his ‘spying’. Snape could sense the guilt that surrounded his mentor. He often wanted to reassure him that he was doing what he wanted to – what he had to - but felt in the end that it was easier to pretend that he didn’t notice. It made him uncomfortable. He was not used to concern and his natural instinct was to scoff at it – after all, it was such ‘feelings’ that made a person weak against their enemy. He knew from experience that sentimentality and his stringent belief in the ‘good’ in people was the only thing that could cloud the headmaster’s judgement, and he sometimes had the nagging feeling that it would one day be his downfall.

Molly’s voice roused him from his musings.

‘Harry, you haven’t touched your stew,’ she said, ‘don’t you like it?’

Harry smiled angelically, pleased that someone had eventually noticed that he wasn’t going to eat the ‘big boy’ food. Not only was it mildly disgusting, but it was part of his plan.

‘Milky …’ he said in his best baby voice.

‘You can have some milk to drink later,’ Molly said firmly, ‘after you eat up your stew like a good boy.’

‘Milky!’ Harry protested, again in a baby voice, ‘Me baby.’

‘No Harry,’ Molly said. ‘You’re a big boy. Big boys eat stew with their spoon.’

Harry decided that Mwolly wasn’t getting the message. He tipped his bowl all over the table – causing a startled Lupin and Tonks to abruptly turn their attention away from each other - and rubbed his hands in it, smearing it in circles like he used to do when something was yucky. ‘BABY!’ he said.

‘He’s certainly wilful!’ Tonks said laughing.

‘That’s naughty Harry,’ Molly said as everyone (with the exception of Snape) tried not to laugh at the toddler – even Dumbledore’s lip seemed to twitch under his beard. She pointed the wand at the boy, rapidly cleaning the mess and pouring him a fresh bowl of stew. ‘Now come on, show everyone what a big boy you can be.’

Harry, however, was enjoying the attention, and was not about to give up his quest. He tipped his head forward and, before anyone could stop him, put it into his bowl, giggling. When he looked up his hair was sticky with stew and it was all round his face.

‘Bad baby!’ he announced.

‘Potter!’ Snape spat.

‘Its okay,’ Molly said quickly. ‘Harry, I want you to eat your food and stop playing with it please,’ she said, cleaning him with a flick of his wand. ‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ she said, ‘he’ll soon get bored.’

Five minutes later and it was obvious that Harry wasn’t about to get bored. He continued babbling in a baby voice and playing with his food and demanding ‘milky’ and ‘bobba’. Snape had been gritting his teeth and glaring at him, hoping the toddler would get the message, but to no avail. Harry seemed to sense that he didn’t want to shout at him in front of audience.

The last straw was when he messed the stew into his hair. ‘Waaahhhh’ he said, in a mock-baby wail ‘I want milky!’

Before Molly could say anything, Snape got to his feet and stalked round the table to Harry.

‘I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense,’ he said. He picked up a kicking Harry (who was starting to wonder if he’d pushed it too far). Carrying him over to the corner of the kitchen, he summoned a stool and put him on it facing the wall. ‘You will sit here for five minutes,’ he said, ‘then you will eat your food or go without.’

Of course as soon as Snape let go of Harry’s arm, Harry shot off. He didn’t want to be punished in front of all the big people. He searched the faces of the grown-ups, and then went to Sirius, holding up his arms, hoping that the funny man would help him. He got the feeling that he didn’t really like the batman much.

Sirius stared down into the little red face. He hesitated. He knew that Harry probably deserved to be put in the corner really, but, then again, he was pleased he had run to him. He reached down.

‘Don’t, Sirius!’ Molly warned. As Sirius hesitated, Harry realised that he probably wasn’t going to help him now. He darted off towards the door, but unfortunately his chubby little legs were not match for Snape - he grabbed Harry and walked him back over to the corner.

‘Five minutes, Potter,’ he said. In reply, Harry kicked the batman’s shin as hard as he could and ran off again. Snape closed his eyes for a moment in pain and then snapped them open again. Harry realised, almost immediately, that he’d probably gone too far. He ran and tried to hind behind Balbus’s legs. Unfortunately, Snape could still see him. He grasped Harry by his arm and reached down and walloped his backside. He wasn’t just angry that the toddler had kicked out (and hurt) him, he wasn’t about to go through a chasing debacle in front of the Order. Sirius looked towards Albus incredulously, but the elder man simply sat as serenely as if he was waiting for a night bus.

‘Awww,’ Tonks whispered to Lupin as Harry began to really wail, ‘poor Harry.’

‘Poor Severus, I say!’ Lupin said smiling.

As Harry clutched at his bottom, Snape walked him back over to the corner. ‘Five minutes Potter!’ he snapped.

Crying and feeling sorry for himself, Harry finally admitted defeat and sat screaming in his corner. He hated being smacked! This time it had even hurt a bit and it was even worse having an audience. His cheeks flamed; he felt very naughty - and, he thought uncomfortably, he probably had been.

‘Are you just going to let that happen?’ Sirius demanded, raising his voice over Harry’s screams.

‘He has to learn, Sirius,’ Molly said gently, ‘And he had plenty of chances.’

‘He’s a toddler!’ Sirius said.

‘Even so, you can’t let him get away with kicking.’

‘Remus?’ Sirius said, looking for support.

‘It was only a tap,’ Remus said neutrally. He knew that had it been Molly, or anyone else for that matter, who had smacked Harry then Sirius wouldn’t have said a word.

Sirius got up glowering; the wildness his eyes had acquired in Azkaban returning as it always did when he was angry. ‘Well Snivellus,’ he barked, ‘I see that you’ve got James’ son exactly where you want him. And the rest of the Order. But just remember, you don’t fool me!’

From his place in the corner, Harry paused from crying and whimpered slightly; he swivelled round to see what the shouting was all about.

‘Turn round!’ Snape barked. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing to see. Black’s simply having one of his little tempers.’

Sirius stepped towards Snape. Arthur got to his feet as Snape drew his wand.

‘Gentlemen please!’ he said.

Sirius pulled his own wand as he shrugged Arthur aside to advance on Snape. He pointed his wand directly at his chest.

‘Well go on then, Black,’ Snape said fiercely, ‘I’m waiting.’

‘You’re not worth it,’ Sirius said after a few moments of tense silence. ‘Knowing what you are and what you’ve done is enough for me. I spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime I didn’t commit - but five times that wouldn’t be long enough for you to atone for the ones you did.’

‘That’s enough!’

Dumbledore’s voice encompassed the room. He got to his feet, his cloak billowing out like a storm cloud; and as he faced Sirius and Snape his eyes flashed with blue fire.

Harry turned instinctively and ran to Molly. She picked him up in her arms and cradled him protectively without a word of reproach. Every person in the room felt like doing the same. It was rare to see Dumbledore angry and when you did it was a thing to behold.

Snape, who had turned a deathly white, was jolted out of his anger on hearing Dumbledore speak. He realised almost guiltily that had the words come a split second later the curse that had died on his lips would have seriously injured the other man. He was the only person in the room to realise that the warning had been meant for him as much as Sirius.

Sirius felt a slight pang of guilt, perhaps realising he had gone too far, but remained stubborn. ‘You might have forgiven him, Albus,’ he said stiffly, not able to make eye contact with his old headmaster, ‘but some of us have longer memories. I listened for twelve years to his friends – Death Eaters - reciting their deeds to one another through the walls of their cells; chanting their loyalty to Voldemort - (everyone winced and Snape clutched his wrist) - like they were heroes. His name came up more than once. I’m afraid if you’re asking me to forget it, then you’re asking too much of me. Excuse me.’ With that he left the room.

Harry had watched the scene with wide eyes. He looked at Snape and twisted in Molly’s arms. ‘Nape,’ he said, holding his arms out. He didn’t really understand what Sirius had said, but he could sense that it had made the batman upset.

Snape took Harry wordlessly. The others were all looking away uncomfortably, trying to avoid each other’s eyes. Molly could feel her legs shaking slightly. Since Dumbledore had placed his confidence in Snape, none of them had let themselves think about what he might have done before he changed sides. They knew that he had stopped being a true Death Eater before Voldemort’s fall, and that he could not be accused of simply covering his own back by switching sides as some – Lucius Malfoy for one – had. They were also were aware that he had taken many risks since that time for the Order. Still, to have his past put the way Sirius had disturbed them, even if only temporarily.

‘Perhaps, Molly, you would be as kind as to send Harry’s things to my chambers,’ Snape said at last. The mask of composure had by now reformed the features of his face, and as he continued his lip curled - ‘I appeared to have outstayed my welcome.’

‘Severus …’ Lupin began, but Snape interrupted.

‘Good-day,’ he said sharply. He then turned on his heel to leave; Harry lay over his shoulder sucking his fingers thoughtfully as they left the room, his crying and the memory of his ‘smacking’ faded by the strange turn of events he had witnessed. He didn’t even protest at leaving.

As they left Dumbledore sighed. A few moments later they heard the clatter of the grate as Snape and Harry disappeared into the Floo network.

‘Perhaps it is time to adjourn the meeting,’ Dumbledore said at last. ‘Nymphadora – if you would OWL me when you and Mad-Eye are in place …’

‘Of course,’ she said quickly.

‘Very well – good day to you all.’

As Dumbledore left, the others stared after him; each of them wondered the same thing – whether the feud between Snape and Sirius would ever be resolved, or whether it would grow worse. Each of them tried to ignore the nagging feeling that it would one day reach a terrible conclusion.