Snape was gone when Harry woke up late the following morning.

The professor had gone back to Grimmauld Place, Mrs. Weasley informed him, “to see to Order business.” But Harry knew he’d really left to get away from him. Nobody was treating Harry any differently, not even Kneader, so he doubted Snape had said anything about their fallout…but the man had clearly meant it when he’d said that he was done.

Harry miserably played his words over again in his head. Had he meant that he was done with Occlumency? Or done with Harry?

Did it really matter? Done was done. He’d lost Snape’s trust, and rightly so. Was there even anything he could do or say to get it back? While he genuinely regretted having violated Snape’s privacy like that, he also grieved the loss of any chance to get permission to use the Potions lab next year. And whenever his mind wondered to the thought that he’d lost any and all chance to find out about his mum, he felt like going back to bed with the help of Dreamless Sleep.

He miserably stabbed a bite of scrambled eggs with his fork and brought it to his lips, chewing without tasting. He’d slept late due to the potion’s effects, so that everybody else had finished breakfast before he’d started. Only Ginny sat at the kitchen table with him, books and homework spread out before her.

He was glad that Hermione was chatting up Kneader in the living room, because she was too perceptive about Harry’s moods. She’d know something was wrong, and she’d try to get it out of him, and he really didn’t want to talk about it. Ginny was observant too, but she didn’t know him quite like Hermione did. And even if she did notice Harry’s depression, she wasn’t likely to press him for answers. She would give him space to work through it on his own. So yeah, Hermione might be one of his best friends, but sometimes spending time with the sister of his other best friend was a welcome relief.

He leaned back in his chair to look into the living room, but he couldn’t see from his vantage point. Remus had been on the sofa when he’d emerged from his room, but the man was still groggy from finally being cleared from his quarantine, or whatever that was. Harry still thought he had seemed fine all along, if tired, but Snape had insisted. Thankfully, Kneader decided that he’d spent enough time under the wards to break any hold a wizard’s curse might have over him.

It figured that when Harry finally got Remus back alive and awake and in one piece, it was Snape who he really wanted to talk to.

But then there was Ron, who also needed worrying about…

Harry desperately wanted to ask if they were going to be moved again and if they were going to be split up into different safe houses. He also wanted to know if Kneader had any more ideas about that Dual Curse theory, but that would involve admitting to more people that he’d spied on the men the night before. He didn’t think he could handle more censure and disappointed looks.

In the end, he excused himself from the table to spend time with the only person in the house who wouldn’t judge him or make him talk about what was bothering him - Ron.

Mrs. Weasley was standing over Ron’s bed saying a spell when he entered the makeshift hospital room. Harry recognized it as the nourishment spell they’d been using to keep him healthy. There were also cleaning spells and diagnostic spells and hydrating spells… He’d stopped by to visit Ron enough over the past week to be passably familiar with them all.

“Oh! Harry dear!” Mrs. Weasley put a hand over her heart. “You startled me.” Her face softened and she waved him in. “I’m nearly done here, and I’ll give you some time alone with him.”

Harry nodded, taking a seat on one of the beds as he watched her run through a couple more spells. She was still broken-hearted over her son, but she had a determination about her as well. She was strong, Harry knew, and it would break her heart if they couldn’t ever cure Ron, but she would survive. As long as she had other children who needed her, she’d stay strong for them.

Would Harry be as strong if he lost Ron?

He’d already lost Sirius, and he was still here. That was different though, he supposed. Sirius wasn’t his dad. He hadn’t even known the man all that long before he died, to be honest, and much of their time together consisted of each of them wanting to see James in the other. When he’d lost Sirius, he’d lost someone he loved, but as far as family went…he’d lost the idea of family more than actual family. With Sirius, with how damaged he was after Azkaban, he couldn’t be the parent or mentor that Harry had wanted or needed. He’d been more like an incorrigible big brother. And losing a big brother had hurt. But how could he compare it to losing a parent or a child? He didn’t know either loss. He only knew the lack of parents, not what it felt like to lose them.

Maybe Harry would be stronger if he could remember his loss. Or maybe, on the flip side, it would have made him weaker. He supposed he’d never know.

“All done here, dear,” Mrs. Weasley murmured and gave him a brief hug on the way out. “Have a nice visit.”

Harry perched on a small chair next to Ron’s bed and watched the steady rise and fall of his friend’s chest. It was barely noticeable, but it was there.

“Can you hear me?”

No answer, of course.

“I’ve got to tell you something, and if you can hear me, it might be enough to shock you awake.” He quirked up a corner of his mouth. “That or you’ll think I’m insane and never want to wake up again.”

Harry bowed his head in the silent room, thinking where to begin. “Snape’s been teaching me Occlumency. And shock of shocks, he’s a pretty decent teacher when he wants to be. I know. I wouldn’t have believed it either.” He paused. “That’s not the main thing I wanted to tell you though. The thing is…I’ve been enjoying the lessons.”

He gave Ron the opportunity to blink or twitch or wake up and yell at him, but he was as still as ever.

“Snape’s been different. I mean, he’s still Snape, but…I think I understand him better now. And he’s been…maybe not nice exactly, but…better to me. Helping me, listening and making sure I’m safe, that sort of thing. It’s been good, having a grown-up around who cares enough to do all that. I’ve never really had that before, not outside of school, and school doesn’t count. Oh, and your parents are great, don’t get me wrong. It’s just…not the same, when it’s your friend’s parents.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “I know. Talking about Snape and caring parents in the same sentence? I am insane.”

On impulse, he reached out and lifted Ron’s hand, dropping it back onto the bed. It fell onto the sheets with a plop and was still.

“Still not faking, huh?” He slouched back into the chair and sighed. “I messed it all up. Snape couldn’t give a hoot if I lived or died now, I’m sure of it.” He blinked fast until the urge to cry passed. “I thought I was the good guy, you know? I mean, I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. A lot of mistakes. But Snape was the unreasonable one, the git out to get me for no good reason. You have no idea how good it felt to see him starting to get it - that there was no good reason to hate me. And then I had to go and prove him right after all.” He resisted the urge to kick the hospital bed. If Ron had any awareness, he probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

“D’you think there’s anything I can do?” Harry absently flattened his fringe with one hand. “Yeah, probably not. He wouldn’t believe another apology. He’s an ‘actions speak louder than words’ sort of person.” He groaned and cradled his head in his hands. “Think your mum would think Voldemort was attacking if I screamed right now? One scream would feel really good.”

He resisted the urge to scream and sat in silence for a while. He noted absently that there was no ticking clock in here, like there was in Ron’s room back at Grimmauld Place. He would have thought he’d prefer the silence, but he missed the noise. Being annoyed by a stupid ticking clock might have distracted him from his thoughts. Instead, he’d have to try to distract himself.

“I hope you’re better in time for Quidditch tryouts. We’ve got some spots to fill. It’d be good to get some fresh talent, and you’ll want to be there for that.” He fished for more to say about Quidditch but came up empty. “Think we’ll have a new Defense teacher? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course we’ll have a new Defense teacher. Wonder if this one will try to hand me over to Voldemort on the first day of term or wait at least until Christmas break. That would be nice, give me some time to alienate a few more Occlumency tutors first.”

If he pulled out all his hair right now, would Snape hear about it? Would he feel pity and give him another chance? Or would he stay away and ignore him anyway?

Ignore, definitely.

“I heard something last night…something I probably shouldn’t tell you.” He swallowed, unsure how to continue, even knowing Ron most likely couldn’t hear anything right now. “Kneader and Snape…they think you might have been hit with two curses. Well, not two, exactly. They called it a Dual Curse. Sounds like two curses linked together and cast as one. I’m not sure how it works exactly, but maybe now that they have an idea, they can start working on finding a counter-curse?” He didn’t want to say out loud what Kneader had said - that they couldn’t do anything without first finding the Death Eater who had cast the curse.

“They also think one of the curses might be some sort of tracking or locating spell. That that’s how they got so close to us in Grimmauld Place. They’re probably going to move us soon, to separate places. If they do, I don’t know when I’ll see you next. I’ll be thinking of you though. Even if I can’t visit, I want you to know it’s not because I don’t want to. It’ll be because I can’t.”

He stood and touched Ron’s hand briefly with his fingers. “Hang in there, okay? We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

He took in a deep breath and made his way to the door. Maybe it was time to talk to somebody who could talk back.

It took a while of walking through the rock and grass to find his new friend, especially since he wasn’t certain that he was speaking in Parseltongue unless he was looking at the snake. He found him not too far from the tree that formed the Apparition boundary, but thankfully on the safe side.

As soon as he had the snake’s attention, he sat in the grass with his legs spread out in front of him. It wasn’t the most comfortable place - a rock was digging into his leg - but it would do.

“Sssnake-human is upssset,” the snake said.

Harry heaved a sigh. Great. He was so bad at hiding his emotions that even a snake could read him like a book. Snape would have a field day with that information. If Snape even cared at all anymore. And then Harry had a worrisome thought. What if instead of hating him like before, Snape just ignored him altogether, all the time? For forever? As much as Harry would have given anything for Snape to take no notice of him in previous years, that sounded like the worst punishment to him now. If Snape hated him, some part of him still cared enough to react, right? If he shut Harry out, pretended as if he didn’t even exist, then he really, truly was done with Harry.

He swallowed a lump of emotion. “I am,” he admitted to the snake. “I made a mistake. And now my teacher - the one you met the other day - is angry with me.”

The snake slithered closer. “Do you want me to bite him?”

Harry laughed despite himself. “Is that your answer to everything?”

“It isss effective,” he said simply.

“No,” Harry sobered up. “If you see him, please don’t bite him. Not ever.”

“If you wissssh,” the snake bobbed his head once.

“I do.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair, probably making it more messy than usual in the process. “Do you have a name?” he asked, ready to talk about anything other than Snape.

The snake cocked his head at Harry. “Name?”

“Yes. Something you call yourself. Something that other people - well, snakes, I guess - call you. My name is Harry. So, instead of calling me snake-human, you can call me Harry.”

“Harry…” the snake said slowly, as if puzzling through the concept of names, and Harry wished he knew what his name sounded like in Parseltongue. It simply sounded like ‘Harry’ to him. “I have no name.”

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip. “Is there something I can call you? It feels weird to just call you ‘snake.’”

“That issss what I am.”

“I know. I just-” Harry scratched his chin, thinking about how to explain it. “Can I give you a name? Maybe…” The words that ran through his mind were associated with the wrong sort of snake - Nagini, the Basilisk, Slytherin - and he fished for something innocuous. “Basil? Griffin? Sam?”

“Thessse are namessss?”

Harry nodded. He snapped his fingers. “How about Hunter? Since hunting is what you like to do.”

The snake bobbed his head. “You may call me Hunter. If you wissssh.”

“Hunter it is!” He grinned. It wasn’t the most creative name, but it was descriptive and would do for his purposes. He couldn’t spend all day dreaming up the perfect name, after all. “You have a name now.”

The snake started to coil himself up, settling in for a chat. Harry was certain that he didn’t really care one way or another about having a name, but it was nice of him to humor his new human friend.

“So, Hunter, do you see many humans around here? Or only Kneader? Oh, he’s the man in the house that you like to stay away from.”

“Humansss come sssometimesss. Not often. I like it when they ssstay away. More hunting.”

“Hmm. Yeah, I can see that.” Harry leaned back on his hands, getting comfortable too.

“Most only come in the light. Not like dog-human. He disssturbed me in the dark.”

Harry frowned. “Dog-human?”

“Yesssss. He ssscared away the miccce lassst night.”

“Remus?” That’s the only person he could possibly mean. “He came out here last night? I wonder if he would if he knew there were snakes about.”

“I did not ssshow myssself to him,” Hunter informed him.

“Yeah. Um. Well. If you see him again, do me a favor and don’t bite him either, okay?”

“I mussst bite if he attacksss, Harry.” The snake stumbled over the name, obviously not used to the idea of names but trying to do as Harry asked.

“Um, well, just don’t go seeking him out, okay? Don’t show yourself to him, and he won’t have any reason to hurt you.”

“I will try,” Hunter agreed, bobbing his head slightly.

“Wait, why do you think Remus would attack you but that my teacher won’t?” Harry wondered. The snake hadn’t added any caveat with Snape.

“Teacher sssaw me before and did not attack,” Hunter said straightforwardly, and Harry supposed he couldn’t fault that reasoning. He added, “Dog-human sssmellss of evil.”

Harry started at that description but stopped himself from explaining about werewolves to the snake. He might not understand what it meant, and it might frighten him more into striking out at Remus when he didn’t need to. He settled on, “His name is Remus, and he’s my friend. He might smell funny to you, but he won’t hurt you unless he thinks you’re going to hurt him, I promise.”

He’d never thought a snake could show skepticism like a human could, but he could tell that Hunter didn’t quite believe him by the way he shifted. Ah, well. Chances weren’t huge that they would be here long enough for the snake to have a run-in with any of his friends anyway.

“Why issss Teacher angry with you?” asked the snake. “Did you sssteal his miccce?”

Harry grinned. He was glad he’d come here. His little friend was already cheering him up. “No. We don’t eat mice, not like you do. I…” he faltered, trying to figure out how to explain it in a way that the snake would understand. “I broke a promise.” That wasn’t precisely it, but it was close enough. His earlier apology to Snape could have functioned as a sort of tacit promise to respect his privacy from that point on. Harry just hadn’t considered how Snape would feel about him using the Wall Watchers. He’d been so intent on finding answers, he hadn’t stopped to think about whether he should.

He pulled a few blades of grass and let them sift through his fingers. “He trusted me not to do something, and I did it anyway, and now he doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Thisss trussst isss important to you?”

“Yes.” It was true, he realized. Snape’s trust did mean a lot to him. More than he’d thought it did before he broke that trust. It was depressing to keep thinking about it, so he changed the subject. “Do you have any family?”

“Yessss.”

When the snake didn’t elaborate, he prodded, “Where are they?”

“I do not know,” Hunter answered. “My brothersss and sssissstersss left the nessst when I did. Do sssnake-humansss not do the sssame?”

Harry almost replied that he didn’t know what it was like to have a nest in the first place. A nest sounded like a warm, lovely place, which Privet Drive had never been. But he thought that might be a difficult concept to explain to a snake, so he settled on, “I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I don’t have a mother or father either.”

“How ssstrange,” said the snake. It uncoiled slightly and settled in on a thicker patch of grass, closer to Harry. “Do humansss not have family?”

Harry dug out a clump of dirt along with a handful of grass and watched the dirt fall through his fingers back to the ground. Kind of like his dashed hopes, he thought and nearly rolled his eyes at his own over-dramatic thoughts. He focused back on the conversation. “Most do. I did have a mother and father once, a long time ago. They died.” He paused, then added, “I don’t remember them, but I miss them.”

“I did not know my sssnake parentsss long either. I do not misssss them.”

Harry almost pointed out that…well, he was a snake and that was different, wasn’t it? But he wasn’t sure if that would come across as rude. On the other hand, maybe snakes didn’t get offended the same way humans did? He settled for explaining, “It’s different for humans. We don’t leave the nest right away. We take longer to grow up, and we stay with our mothers and fathers for many years.”

“How ssstrange,” the snake said again.

“Yeah. It is,” Harry agreed, having never known what that was like himself. “But other human kids have parents, so I always wished I did too.”

“You are still in the nest,” Hunter said as if puzzling out a mystery that didn’t make sense, “but you have no nest-mates?”

Harry shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“You are not in Teacher’s nest?”

Harry gave the snake a wry grin. “No. Definitely not.” He didn’t know how to elaborate on that, so he didn’t. Instead, he spoke what was on his mind. “My teacher knew my mother. I hoped he would tell me about her. But then I made him angry, and now he won’t talk to me. That’s also why I’m sad.”

And that hurt. Every time he got close to knowing something about his parents, he felt such a sense of hope…but these days, that hope was always tempered with dread. Not only did he rarely find the information he sought, he knew that nothing could bring them back or make up for the lack of them in his life. He wanted to feel closer to them, but in the end…he was still alone, wasn’t he?

No, he corrected himself. He wasn’t alone. He didn’t have a loving family, but he did have his friends. He had Ron and Hermione, his other friends in Gryffindor, Luna, Remus, and the Weasleys. Even if he hadn’t known parental love, he did have love in his life. And anyway, he knew that his parents had loved him. Even if he didn’t feel that love, knowing it meant something. There was a world of difference between thinking your parents were deadbeat drunks who died in a car crash and knowing that they were heroes who sacrificed themselves to save your life.

He couldn’t remember that love, but knowing it had been there meant something to him.

He sighed. If only he could have experienced it.

Hunter slithered closer and lay his head on Harry’s knee. “I have no nessst to offer you,” he said, “but I can help you find a good ssspot for one.”

“Thank you,” Harry gave his friend a genuine smile and reached out a hand to graze along his smooth scales. They sat in silence for a while, Harry stroking Hunter’s back while the snake curled up closer to Harry’s warmth.

He didn’t know how long they had been there when his snake friend hissed and reared back at something behind Harry.

Harry whipped his head around but was relieved to see Remus walking towards them from the house. Well, maybe not completely relieved… He looked back at the snake, who looked ready to strike. “He’s a friend, remember? He won’t hurt you.”

Hunter looked as skeptical as a snake could look. “Will the dog-human hurt you?”

Harry was touched. He smiled. “No. A friend means someone who won’t hurt you. You know how I said that Teacher was my mother’s friend? Well, Remus was my father’s friend. He would never hurt me.”

“You do not ssssmell of evil.”

“Um. Thanks?”

“You ssshould ssstay away from evil.”

Harry felt like he was trying to explain something to a little child who just couldn’t understand. “Remus isn’t evil, no matter what he smells like. Look, why don’t you go on home and maybe later I’ll come look for you and we can talk again. Okay?”

He could tell Hunter was reluctant to leave, but he finally did, slowly uncoiling himself and slithering off into the grass. He looked back at Harry before disappearing completely.

“Were you just talking to a snake?” Remus’s voice came from a short distance away. He still looked tired and was breathing heavily, as if the short walk had exhausted him.

“Yeah.” Harry stood and wiped the dirt and grass from his trousers. “He’s a friend.”

Remus stopped next to him and stared at the grass where the snake had been. “A…friend.”

“Yeah,” Harry repeated, not sure why he was having so much trouble explaining that word today. “He’s nice. He seems to like talking to me. I think he’s a little bit lonely.”

Remus gave a noncommittal sound.

“You don’t have a problem with Parseltongue, do you?” Harry shot him a sideways glance. Of all people, he didn’t think Remus would have an issue with Harry’s rare power. His former professor knew what it was like to be judged for something he couldn’t help, after all.

“Not at all.” Remus gave him a small smile and looked around them at the grass. “I would prefer not to be near a snake, however. Personal preference, you understand.”

“You’re not alone in that,” muttered Harry, thinking of Snape’s reaction. He smirked at the thought that the men had something in common.

“I have been wanting to talk to you, Harry. Perhaps now?” Remus gestured to the tree.

Harry hesitated, as much because he was worried Remus might know what he’d done as he was about the wards and boundaries. “Um. Are we supposed to…”

The man smiled as he walked the short distance and then slowly leaned against the large trunk in the shade of its leaves. “The boundary is just beyond where we are. We are perfectly safe as long as we stay on this side of the tree.”

Harry nodded and joined him in the shade of the tree’s branches. He didn’t sit, preferring to kick at a loose rock with the toe of his shoe.

Remus leaned his head back against the tree. “You’ve had a trying summer, haven’t you?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. Obviously, he thought, but said instead, “Yeah. Well…a lot’s happened, that’s for sure. But…um, I can’t think that it’s been as trying as yours. How are you feeling?”

Remus shrugged his shoulders and said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You-Know-Who was not exactly hospitable, but I will be fine.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry looked his dad’s friend over. At least his injuries were all healed. Other than being tired and sluggish, he didn’t have so much as a bruise or a scratch on him. But Harry knew how deep wounds could run. Emotional wounds took far longer to heal.

Remus sat in silence for several seconds before observing, “You’ve become close with Professor Snape.”

Harry had no idea how to answer that question, so he didn’t. He kicked at another rock.

“He left in a hurry this morning,” Remus went on. “I don’t suppose you know when he will return?”

Harry shook his head without meeting Remus’s eyes. How was he supposed to admit that he was the one who drove Snape away? Or that he knew the professor would stay away as long as he could? On the other hand, Snape did feel responsible for Harry, if only because of Dumbledore’s charge to look after him, so maybe he would return just long enough to make sure that Harry was sent off somewhere safe…somewhere they wouldn’t have to see each other. Or would he even bother, knowing that Remus was awake now and could take over Harry-sitting duties?

“You seem worried.” Remus was watching him carefully.

Harry shrugged. He was already confused about how he felt. He didn’t think that talking it over would help, even with someone as well-meaning as his dad’s friend.

“He didn’t say anything about when he would return?” Remus pressed.

“Why?” asked Harry, looking up. “Is something the matter?”

“Of course not,” Remus said so smoothly that Harry narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure that Remus and maybe the Order were keeping things from him again. He never liked that…but on the other hand, he felt so bad about spying on Snape and Kneader last night that his desire to mercilessly question Remus quickly dissipated.

“Professor Snape didn’t tell me where he was going or when he’d be back,” he said evenly, trying not to betray how much that bothered him. “Maybe Mr. Kneader or Mrs. Weasley knows?”

Remus nodded. “I’m surprised that the headmaster hasn’t been out to see you. Has he been in touch?”

Harry shook his head and kicked at a particularly stubborn rock. Dumbledore’s absence hadn’t really bothered him. Not like Snape’s did, and Snape hadn’t even been gone half a day yet.

“You’ve had no word from him at all? He hasn’t said when he will return?”

Harry gave him a skeptical glance. “No. Shouldn’t you be asking the Order or something? You know they don’t share much with me.” His usual annoyance at that fact gave way to shame when his mind immediately went to the Wall Watchers and how much he could have gleaned from Order meetings if he hadn’t destroyed them. He ducked his head. He didn’t regret destroying them. If he hadn’t, he eventually would have given into temptation to eavesdrop again. And he didn’t want to be that person that Snape had been disappointed in last night, he really didn’t.

“Yes, you’re probably right,” Remus said with a yawn, rising to his feet. “I’ll ask them later. Do you have your wand?” he asked, almost in the same breath.

“Course.” Harry patted his sleeve. “Why?”

“It may be best for you to leave it with me,” said Remus with a grin that looked very un-Remus-like. “Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s wand flew from his sleeve into Remus’s hand. “Remus! Wha-”

“Petrificus Totalus! Mobilicorpus!” The spells in quick succession knocked him over, stiff as a board, and levitated his body several inches from the ground. His mind was short circuiting, trying to figure out what Remus was trying to prove. It wasn’t like him to attack Harry, not unless he was teaching Harry and had warned him first. No, whatever Remus was doing, it wasn’t good.

But Remus wouldn’t ever do anything bad to him, so…a chill ran through his immobilized body. Had Snape been right? That Remus was cursed? Or worse, wrong, and Remus had been Polyjuiced?

Before he could think through that, his former professor’s face entered his vision. The man stood above him. “I am sorry, Harry. I have my orders.”

Orders?

No. Not Remus. This wasn’t Remus. Polyjuice, it had to be! He tried to move, to escape the spells, but he couldn’t. The most he could do was to widen his eyes in panic as he felt his body drift past the tree. He felt something press into his hand. His fingers shifted…his thumb brushed metal.

The ring. Snape. He focused as hard as he could through his shock, managed to press his thumb to the ring. Remus - NOT Remus - mumbled something, and just after his ring heated up, the world dissolved around him in a swirl of nausea and light.

He landed painfully on a cold, hard surface. Still unable to move, he tried to look around him but couldn’t. Ice filled his veins as he heard a high-pitched laugh.

A pair of red slitted eyes in a pale face swam above his eyes below a dimly lit stone ceiling.

“Harry Potter. How kind of you to drop in.”