The dungeon corridors all looked the same. Harry was hopelessly lost.

With a frustrated huff, he sat down on the bottom step of what appeared to be an unfinished staircase carved into the stone wall. There were only six steps, and each was more rough-edged than the previous. There was no getting around the fact that he had never been in this part of the dungeons before.

"Brilliant."

An echo answered him.

Brilliant

illiant

liant

He rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I'll just sit here until someone finds me."

Silence answered him.

Harry frowned. "Wait a minute..."

"Ickle lost boy... Oh, ickle lost boo-o-y...!"

Harry shut his eyes and let out a pained breath. This was just what he did not need.

Peeves popped out of nowhere, dive-bombing with a piercing whistle.

Harry ducked, rolling to the side. He leaped to his feet. "What do you want, Peeves?"

Peeves cocked his head, squinting one eye. "Ickle boy knows my name."

Harry made his ugliest imitation of Snape's sneer. "My father's told me all about you, Peeves. He also told me that the Bloody Bar--"

"AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

With this ear-piercing screech, Peeves flipped mid-air and splattered through the nearest wall, leaving a trail of oozing slime."

"Huh," said Harry, confused but pleased. "How odd. Well, he did seem to come from that direction, so I might -- AAAAAAaaaahhhh!"

With his single step he was standing in the midst of a pale, silvery mist, and it was as cold as an ice bath.

What was worse was the fact that the mist was watching him.

He stepped back at once, clutching his chest where his heart was hammering like mad.

For a long, silent moment, the Bloody Baron continued to look down his nose at Harry, his eyes pale and milky within a corpse-like face. Then he made a graceful turn and floated away slowly down a dark corridor.

With nothing else to do, Harry followed him, staying well back.

Two turns, three -- he tried to keep track -- then suddenly he saw Bathsheba the Beady-eyed.

The Bloody Baron did not wait, or even turn to see if Harry had found his way. By the time Harry reached the next corner, he was gone.

Harry stopped at the fork to catch his breath and get oriented. He knew which way to go now. If he turned right, he would be on his way to Snape's office. His room was ahead, down the wider of the corridors.

A few minutes later he was at his door, struggling with the heavy key. It turned, finally, and he went quickly inside.

He couldn't help noticing that more lights were lit than he had left burning that morning.

Cautiously, he checked the shadowy corners, but the room was empty. The only sign of a disturbance was a scrap of parchment on the desk, held down by his own ink pot.

Hadrian,

 

Please join me for tea later this
morning. The staff meeting should
be over by half past ten.

My office.

R.J.L.

Harry crumpled the note and tossed it into the rubbish bin.

What did Lupin want?

He had no way of knowing what time it was. He reckoned he had been wandering around the dungeons for at least the better part of an hour, but he hadn't checked the time since that morning, so this didn't help.

His shirt was dirty and damp with sweat. He could practically feel the grease mixing with sweat in his hair. What he really needed was another shower.

He had to settle for changing his shirt and running a wet comb through his tangled hair.

"Shut up," he told the mirror, just in case it was the kind that made unwanted comments about your appearance.

This time he didn't get lost. He muttered Lupin's directions under his breath until he reached the part of the dungeons he was most familiar with.

"Straight down the corridor until I reach the beady-eyed hag. Turn right. Fork; turn right. Next is the ugly dwarf's head. Right again. There's Snape's office on the left... To hell with this -- I need a map."

The best map, of course, was in Lupin's safekeeping, and Harry doubted he would see it again until it was safe to be Harry Potter again.

Whenever that might be.

His boots made a terrible amount of noise on the polished floor of the Entrance Hall. He was trying to get as quickly as possible to Lupin's office, without attracting any more attention.

Fortunately, there seemed to be no one about.

Soon enough he was in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office. A shiny new plaque on the door read, R. J. Lupin in bold brass letters.

He knocked.

"Come in."

The door swung open before Harry could reach for the handle.

Lupin was behind a messy desk, surrounded by mounds of papers and books and a cage containing something large and furry that was the color of Tonks' hair.

"Er... you wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Lupin said, and the door shut behind Harry with a soft bang. "Sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come..."

"I got lost," Harry said defensively. "Peeves nearly took my head off, and then the Bloody Baron let me walk right into him."

"Hmm," Lupin said, shuffling some papers around to make room for a tea tray. "Sounds like quite a morning."

Harry sat down on the only available chair; every other piece of furniture in the room was just as occupied as Lupin's desk was.

"How did things go with Ron?"

"Fine. We hardly had any time to talk, of course."

"Did he mention Hadrian?"

Harry nodded, remembering with a scowl. "Yeah. Tonks did a fine job."

Lupin looked up sharply. "What's that?"

"I mean, Ron doesn't suspect a thing. Tonks asked him where he was going right before he got to Hagrid's, and then we watched Tonks through the window, so I don't see how he could think Hadrian is me."

"Good," Lupin said, waving his wand over the tea pot, which began to steam. "Then everything went according to plan. Tea?"

Harry nodded, and Lupin poured him a cup.

"Sugar?"

Harry took three lumps.

"I think we can consider the possibility of making these short meetings a very regular event."

"Huh?"

"Maybe twice a week to start with..."

"Really?" Harry said in disbelief. "I can do that?"

"I don't see why not. With the Weasleys here, quite a few things will need to be changed to suit the situation. After all, the less they worry about you, the less the chance that Hadrian will come under suspicion."

Harry nodded; he didn't care what the reason was.

"Good, then I'll make the arrangements."

Harry nodded again, but it occurred to him suddenly that the arrangements must have already been made without his input, between Lupin and Snape, or else Lupin wouldn't have suggested it.

He drowned that thought in a long sip of hot, too-sweet tea.

"Is there anything you need? Does your room suit you?"

"It's... fine," Harry said, thinking of the gloomy little bedroom. "I could really use a watch though. I had a Muggle wristwatch before."

"I'll see what I can find."

"Thanks." His eyes wandered around the cluttered office. "Do you need help in here?"

"I'm afraid it wouldn't look right to have you spending too much time in my company, Harry."

"Oh. Right."

"I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, of course, so over time we will be able to see one another much more freely."

"Right," Harry repeated.

"In fact, I was hoping to organize a little advanced study group. What do you think?"

Harry stared at him. Was Lupin seriously suggesting he participate in a study group that would almost certainly include both Ron and Ginny, seeing how there were only four students at Hogwarts besides Harry himself? And, if what Ron had told him was true, Fred and George might have to be included as well.

"No?" Lupin prompted, looking slightly disappointed. "It would be a good way of introducing yourself to the Weasleys in a neutral, adult-supervised setting."

"Oh, we've been introduced," Harry muttered darkly, thinking of his run-in with the twins. Aloud, he said, "I'll think about it."

"Well," Lupin said with a short sigh, "I'll let you know prior to making a general announcement. That is, if I even find the time to get something together. Umbridge did leave a mess, didn't she? I can't find anything resembling a lesson planner or even a schedule of required readings..."

"Lesson planner?" Harry scoffed. "We didn't do a single thing all last year!"

"You did read the book, did you not?" Lupin countered, raising an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that plenty of class time was devoted to... ahem... self-paced study of Defense theory."

Harry snickered.

Lupin seemed to be fighting a smile as well. "I thought I would follow up some of last year's lessons with practical instruction in the same subjects. That way your work will not be wasted."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Yes... if I can just figure out what was taught, and in what sequence. Now," Lupin said, changing the subject, "it's almost time for you to go, but I still have a number of things to tell you."

Lupin's eyes darted to a piece of paper tucked under a paperweight. Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Lupin had a list.

"I have the password to your room." Lupin handed him a folded square of parchment. "Burn it once you've committed it to memory; it wouldn't do to leave it lying about, even in your own room. Turn in the key to Professor McGonagall when you have the chance."

Harry accepted the paper and looked at it. There was a single word.

Chameleon

Harry made a face.

"You can change it if you wish," Lupin said. "The password is set to this poster, which you will put up on or near the door." He placed a roll of glossy paper on the desk in front of Harry. "Careful, the sticking charm is very strong."

Harry unrolled it just enough to see that it was a Quidditch poster bearing the heading, The Prides, and featuring a team wearing purple robes with a gold star emblem.

"That's your team, by the way," Lupin said. "The Pride of Portree."

"I don't know anything about them," Harry said, frowning.

"Not much to know -- they haven't had a win since the 1960's. The lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters is the son of a former Captain. Do you still have those Quidditch magazines I gave you?"

Harry nodded. He'd kept them; they were an interesting read.

"Should be a lot on The Prides in them. That was the height of their popularity. For anything more recent you can search the Daily Prophet archives in the library."

Harry was about to say that he hadn't even known the library carried an archive of the newspaper, when a buzzing sound interrupted.

"Excuse me."

Lupin stood, stepped over a stack of books blocking his way, and made his way to the fireplace. A moment later a head appeared in the midst of green flames.

"Lupin."

"What can I do for you, Severus?"

"Is the boy with you?"

"Yes, he is."

"Keep him there."

With that command, Snape's head vanished and the flames died with a hiss.

Lupin sat back on his heels and looked over his shoulder uncertainly. "It seems our visit will be slightly longer than I expected."

"Has something happened?"

"I don't know. I think --" Lupin paused, frowning. "It might be wise to lock the door, as a precaution."

Harry watched as Lupin tapped the lock, causing it to glow momentarily. When he turned around, it seemed clear to Harry that Lupin was trying hard to appear unconcerned.

"More tea, Harry? I think I have some chocolate biscuits here, though I hate to spoil your lunch."

Harry accepted a refill and took three biscuits out of the paper sack Lupin produced from under the mess on his desk. "Thanks."

Filling his own cup and settling back in his chair, Lupin seemed more at ease. "Where were we?"

"The Prides," Harry supplied reluctantly. He really wanted to know what was going on out there.

"Right. Learn what you can about them, but no need to seem obsessed. Not every teenager is wrapped up in Quidditch... though most at least know something about their home team."

"I don't suppose I ever had the chance to play, myself," Harry said sourly. All the talk about Quidditch was depressing, really, considering he knew he wouldn't be playing at Hogwarts.

"No, you haven't ever played. Try to remember that if you're ever pulled into an impromptu game."

Harry thought it was decisively unlikely that the Weasleys would invite him to play with them, but didn't say so.

Lupin frowned slightly. "I did think we would have plenty of time to develop your new identity, but..."

"But the Weasleys are here," Harry finished for him. "So? What do I have to do?"

Lupin drew a breath and let it out slowly. "You'll need some new hobbies... interests... something to make you less of a blank slate. As Harry you had Quidditch, and you excelled at Defense Against the Dark Arts. As Hadrian... well, who are you?"

"The son of the most hated teacher in school," Harry said darkly. "I mean, that's all people will really see or care about."

"Some people, yes, perhaps."

"Like all my friends."

"Then you will make new friends."

Harry stared at him. "In Slytherin?"

"Yes, Slytherin... if that is where you will be sorted."

"Where else would I be sorted?" Harry asked, exasperated that Lupin refused to accept the obvious. "It's not like Snape would let me go to Gryffindor."

"Where the Sorting Hat chooses to place you, is where you will go."

That made Harry feel decidedly worse. What if the Hat offered him a choice again? Would he dare go against Snape?

"Now," Lupin said, putting down his teacup, "I want to --" But he was interrupted as a buzzing sound again filled their ears.

Snape's head popped into the green flames that flared before Lupin even stood up.

"False alarm. Send the boy to my office."

And before Lupin could answer, the flames hissed and snuffed out, leaving the grate as empty as before.

"Hmm. It looks like you'll be going," Lupin said in a falsely light voice. "Just one last thing I need to give you before you leave."

He took a small, flat box from a drawer.

"A few family photographs for your room."

Harry accepted the box and gathered up the Quidditch poster as well. "Thank you for the tea."

"It was my pleasure. I hope we can meet again very soon."

Lupin let him out, and Harry headed back to the dungeons.

Just as before, there was no one about.

He stopped in front of Snape's office for some much-needed deep breaths, then knocked.

The door swung open, just like the door to Lupin's office, but Snape was standing in the doorway, looking down at him.

"Come in and sit down."

Harry came in silently and found a seat. He kept his head down.

It had just occurred to him that Snape might have discovered the scorch mark on the floor.

Snape took his time shutting the door; Harry caught a glow of light out of the corner of his eye, so Snape must have locked and warded it.

Snape took his time settling behind his desk, as well, like he knew it was torture for Harry to have to wait for whatever was coming. He pushed aside the Daily Prophet and a stack of envelopes.

"Have you had occasion to use your new wand?"

Harry jumped, startled, but managed to keep his eyes from flying up to meet Snape's.

"Er... yes." Better just get it over with. Lying wouldn't work; Snape already knew.

"I thought so. The temptation to use magic during the summer is too great for the likes of you and the Weasley horde. Well? What was the result?"

"It -- it was a little out of control."

Snape was silent for a long moment, which made Harry squirm.

"Better that than an unresponsive wand. Wand control is strictly a matter of practice and habit."

Harry couldn't help it this time; he looked up. It didn't sound after all like Snape was about to start berating him over the ruined floor or, worse, the wasted potion.

"You will begin tutoring sessions immediately to bring you up to acceptable levels in all relevant subject areas."

Harry stared at him. "Wha-- what? Sir?"

Snape returned the stare with more than a hint of disapproval. "I realize the idea of excelling in your school work is foreign to you, but I'm afraid nothing short of excellence will be required now that you are no longer able to fly by the seat of your fame."

Harry bristled. He wasn't aware of a single time that his grades had been anything but deserved, whether good or bad. If being famous affected the way his professors treated his essays and homework assignments, he hadn't known about it.

"Among your shortcomings," Snape continued gratingly, "is a complete lack of aptitude in Potions. This must be corrected before the school year begins."

"But..." Harry said slowly, "... but I'm not taking Potions this year."

Snape's glare bloomed in full. "I assure you, you are. I assure you, also, that I do not intend to be humiliated by your incompetence. My N.E.W.T. level courses bar the unskilled and unintelligent for good reason."

Harry understood suddenly, and a sickened feeling spread in the pit of his stomach.

Harry Potter might be useless in Potions, but Hadrian was Snape's son, and Snape expected his son to follow in his footsteps.

"Well?"

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, looking down. "I understand."

"Good," Snape said, his tone inviting defiance. "Then we will begin at once. I have drawn up a schedule --"

He waited until Harry took the single sheet of parchment from him.

"As you can see, we will meet each morning and each evening. In the morning we shall review basic wand skill, spellwork, transfiguration, and practical charms up to fifth year level. In the evening we will attempt to correct your woeful shortcomings in the areas of Potions and Herbology." He paused, letting Harry look over the schedule and probably enjoying the expression Harry could feel blossoming on his face. "You will notice that three mid-afternoon sessions have been scheduled as well. We will address History of Magic, as well as other less pressing subjects, then. I have left plenty of time for homework assignments to be completed, as well as planned several sessions in the school library throughout the week. Should Lupin follow through for once and start a Defense Against the Dark Arts study circle, you will have no difficulty fitting it in."

Harry felt his mouth fall open in a sort of silent scream.

Snape had to be joking. Either that, or he was completely insane.

The schedule left just enough time for Harry to wolf down three meals a day and get half a night's sleep. Every other moment of every single day was solidly accounted for.

"Any questions?" Snape asked, his voice dripping with distinct mockery.

Harry gritted his teeth. He vowed to show Snape how unconcerned he was.

"No, sir, no questions."

"Excellent. Then you won't mind telling me what we will be doing this morning."

The only thing that sprung to Harry's mind was 'lunch', because after the morning he'd just had it had to be close to the noon hour, but that was clearly not the answer Snape expected. He looked down at the schedule.

"Uh... Charms?"

"Wand control," Snape corrected harshly. "Just how do you expect to succeed in any subject without basic control of your wand?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry said, forcing his voice to be steady.

"Take out your wand."

Harry took out the thirteen-inch hawthorn wand and tried to find a good grasp on the roughly carved handle.

Snape eyed him with disgust. "We will begin with the proper wand grip."

To Harry's horror, Snape came out from behind his desk and took up a position behind Harry's chair. His pale, long-fingered hand curled over Harry's on the wand.

"Thumb lower," Snape commanded. "Pinkie tucked in -- you are holding a wand, not a teacup, for Merlin's sake." He prodded Harry's fingers until they were almost extended along the length of the wand. "Point with your index finger to direct energies and confer decisive intent. Now, put the wand away."

Harry pocketed the wand.

"Take it out."

Harry took it out, trying to grip the handle the way Snape had shown him.

Not good enough; Snape's cold hand was back on his, prodding his fingers into the right position.

"Put it away... Take it out."

Harry lost track of the number of times Snape made him repeat the exercise. After the third or fourth time Snape no longer corrected him.

Finally satisfied, Snape did not tell him to put the wand away.

"We will move on to basic wand movements. The swish..."

Swish.

Flick.

Thrust.

Harry's empty stomach was grumbling by the time they had progressed to the basic swish-and-thrust common in defensive charms.

"We will adjourn for lunch," Snape said at last. "I expect you to use the afternoon to practice these wand movements, as well as to look up the properties of the eighteen plants most commonly used in first-year level potions."

"First year?" Harry asked with an annoyed sigh; it looked like they would be starting with the bare basics in Potions, as well.

"First year," Snape said firmly.

"Yes, sir," Harry said resignedly. "Er... where should I look them up? I don't have my textbooks."

His Potions and Herbology texts had been among those deemed too damaged for him to keep, lest they be recognized.

Snape frowned and stood up. "I shall lend you One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and Magical Drafts and Potions. These should be enough for you to begin."

The books Snape handed him were clearly from his personal library, and were well-worn.

"Thank you."

"You can thank me by coming to our evening session prepared," Snape retorted. He glanced at the clock. "You have time to wash up and make yourself presentable. Do not dawdle. I expect you to be on time for all meals. Dismissed!"

Harry scrambled to gather up his things and get out from under Snape's unforgiving stare.