“Hey, Harry.  There’s an owl here for you.”

Harry looked up from the boom box (he almost had the magic-sucking issue fixed) and saw a very ruffled looking owl perched on Niamh’s shoulder.

“Who’s it from?” he asked.

Niamh shrugged and replied, “I don’t open you mail, mate.  And I don’t recognize the owl.  Mik maybe?”  She handed him the letter then sent the owl off up one of the small passageways in the ceiling that lead outside.  Harry watched her for a moment then sat down his tools and opened the letter.

“It’s from Sirius,” he whispered as Niamh settled beside him.  Jardin suddenly appeared from a dark area atop a bookshelf and flapped over to his bonds shoulder.

< He has returned? >

Harry growled, eyes glinting, “If he has, I’ll kill him,” before scanning the rather short letter.

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o’clock on next Hogsmeade weekend.  Bring as much food as you can.

“That’s ominous,” remarked Niamh as Harry angrily crumpled the letter and stuffed it in his pocket.  “Mate, what’s wrong?”

“Sirius is what’s wrong!  He’s come back and now he’s running the chance of getting caught!”

Niamh smiled and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry.  Sirius’ll be fine.  And you’d better write back and tell him the next Hogsmeade weekend is this week.”

“Right,” said Harry sullenly.

< Don’t worry, Harry, > said Jardin.  < It’ll be fine. >

Oh, shut up, grumbled the teen as he grabbed up a scrap of paper and searched for something to write with.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

When Potions class rolled around a few days later, Harry deliberately spilled armadillo bile as an excuse to have a short talk with his father after class.  He had meant to tell him about the meeting with Sirius but Karkaroff slipping into the room as the rest of the class bustled out.

“We need to talk, Severus,” said Durmstrang’s headmaster.  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Snape’s black eyes flicked over to where Harry was crouched behind his cauldron.  He knew he was there but Karkaroff – thankfully – could not see him.

“What is so urgent?” asked Snape.

“This,” replied Karkaroff and Harry heard the rustle of cloth.  He peered around his cauldron and saw Karkaroff showing his father something on the inside of his left arm.  “Do you see?  It’s never been this clear, never since – ”

“Put it away, you fool!” hissed Snape.

“But surely you’ve noticed - ”

“Do you wish to be caught?  If you don’t recall, there is an Auror in the school with us.  Were he to walk in right now we’d both be in Azkaban.”

“But, Severus - ”

“Later, Igor!”

Karkaroff stood there for a moment then turned on a heel and strode out.  Harry watched him as he went, thinking of what the more visible Mark meant.

It means Voldemort is gaining power, answered his brain.

That thought sent a cold shiver through the teen’s body.  He did not fear many things but he did fear the idea of Voldemort’s possible return to power and form.  Not only because of that dream and the Cup, but because that damned Mark.  Some part of his father was bound to the Dark Lord and Slytherin knew what that lunatic would do – and could do – to the elder Snape should he find out of his “betrayal”.  Plus the oh-so-tiny fact that he had sired the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord not once, but three times.

“Harry.”

Harry gave the floor a last swipe and stood, looking across the room at his father with an unreadable green gaze.

“He’s getting stronger, isn’t he?” said the teen softly.

Severus nodded slowly and looked towards the closed classroom door.  He then said, in Elven, “Come to my rooms tonight.  Then we’ll talk.”

Harry nodded and hurriedly packed up his things, taking a hastily scribbled note from his father’s hand that excused his being late for Transfiguration and dashing out of the room past a group of third year Ravenclaws.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

That night, Harry slipped out of Arx Serpens under the cover of his invisibility cloak and headed down to the entrance to his father’s rooms.

Inside, he sat down by the merrily crackling fire to wait.  A few minutes later, Severus slipped out of the passage leading from the classroom, smiling at his son as he took off his outer robe and threw it over the back of the chair across from Harry before sitting down in it.

“Is he?” asked Harry, addressing his question from earlier in the day.

Severus nodded grimly and the teen sighed.

“I thought so.”

“Just because he’s getting stronger, doesn’t mean he’s a danger, Harry,” said Severus.  “According to what you’ve told me about your first year run-in with him, he’s bodiless.”

“But still a danger,” said Harry.  “And there are potions and spells that could give him back a body, aren’t there?”

Severus sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand.

“Unfortunately, yes.  But the spells are few and far between and require a power like Voldemort’s to allow them to work to their full potential.  And they cannot be cast upon oneself.”

“That’s good.”

“Not likely.  The potions are far more numerous and are known by a great many of the greater Potions Masters.”

“One of which is you,” said Harry with a slight tilt of his head.

“Yes.  But Voldemort cannot Summon the Death Eaters without a body.  Else he would have already done so.  Or he can and is simply waiting for the right moment.  Merlin knows what goes on in his…well, what would you call a creature without a body’s mind?”

Harry shrugged then said, “So we’ve got nothing to worry about?  I doubt that.”

Severus nodded in agreement.

“As do I.  But as of now Voldemort is still spirit and as I doubt he could get his claws into a Master who knows those potions that would help him.  Many were those betrayed by men like Karkaroff to save their own hides and others have hidden.  I only know of one that isn’t hidden and she won’t be of any help.”

“Why not?” asked Harry.

“Because she’s in St. Mungo’s,” replied Severus bitterly.  “And even if she wasn’t, they’d not get a thing out of her.  Auror’s are hard to break.”

Harry blinked.  Could he…could he be talking about Neville’s mother?

“Mrs. Longbottom?”

Severus’ head snapped up and his dark eyes locked onto his son’s face.

“What did you say?” he demanded.

“Mrs. Longbottom,” repeated Harry.  “Neville’s mother.”

“How do you know about the Longbottom’s?  Very few do.”

“Amanda,” said Harry.  “I went in the common room one night and she was there crying.  She told me.  She was there.”

Severus leaned back into his chair, nodding slowly.

“Yes.  The Brethel’s.  William was always a good friend of Frank’s.”

“You knew them?  The Longbottom’s?”

“Two years ahead of me,” said Severus.  “Frank Longbottom and William Brethel, both Gryffindors.  Melissa Jessup was a Slytherin.  Merlin knows how she and Frank got together.  But they did.  William’s Neville’s godfather as well.  I doubt Miss Brethel told you that.”

“Then why didn’t they take…nevermind.  I think I know why.  Grief-stricken.”

Severus nodded and said, “Both of them.  Miss Brethel’s mother is Muggle but a believer in magic.  She was good friends with Frank and Melissa.”

The elder Snape shook his head slowly then gave a little shake, as if to brush the old memories off.  He looked at his son and asked, “And what was it you spilled armadillo bile for?”

“Sirius is here.”

“Black?  Here?  Well, I always did say he was a loony as a loon.”

Harry glared mildly and said,” I told him about the Tournament.  He’s worried.”

“Worried about you or worried I’m going to go back to my “Dark Ways” and snatch you off to Voldemort?”

“Probably a little of both.”

“Slytherin knows.”

“Should I tell him…about the streets?”

Severus looked seriously at his son.

“Only if you want to.  And if you do, I suggest you owl those relatives of yours and tell them to get out of the country.”

“I don’t know.  I’d rather like to see Aunt Petunia and Dudley mangled beyond recognition but Uncle Vernon was rather nice to me.  He just needs a bit of a backbone.”

“Do you intend to tell him?”

“Only if he asks.”

“Ah,” said Severus, looking at the fire.  He then said, with a glance towards the clock on the mantle, “You’d better get to be.  It’s almost midnight.”

Harry nodded and rose, wrapping the invisibility cloak about himself.

“’Night, Da.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry slipped out of the rooms and down the hall to Arx Serpens, where he fell asleep on the couch in the Hexer’s Corner rather than chance waking one of his dormmates (not that he cared, but to avoid questions of where he’d been).  Severus, meanwhile, stayed up far into the wee hours of the morning, pacing in front of the fire and praying to every god that he knew of (and some he didn’t) that Voldemort would never return to cast a shadow on the world.

His, and his son’s, lives would be in great peril if that monster clamped his iron fist back upon the wizarding world.