Harry Potter had just left King's Cross station after his first year away at boarding school. If he had been going home to a normal family, this would likely have been a joyous event. As it was, even Harry and his school were far from normal. Harry Potter was a wizard, and in his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had already met and escaped from Lord Voldemort, the great Dark wizard who had killed Harry's parents and sent him to live with his horrible Muggle (non-magical) uncle and aunt, Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

So, as Harry dragged his feet, dreading getting into the Dursleys' car and returning to number four, Privet Drive, he thought of Hogwarts, and wanted to return there more than anything. Granted, while he was at school, he couldn't seem to go five minutes without being stared at or whispered about, because Harry Potter was the Boy Who Lived, the only person ever to survive a Killing Curse, much less one delivered by Voldemort's own wand. And it certainly didn't make him any less famous because Voldemort had disappeared when he could not kill Harry, and, up until a few weeks ago, had not been heard from since. Harry's was a household name among wizarding circles because of all this, and it meant that he got hardly a minute's respite from the whispering and pointing at Hogwarts; but the school was home, much more than Privet Drive could ever be.

But Privet Drive was where Harry was headed now, whether he liked it or not. It was because he didn't like it that Harry dragged his feet on the way to his aunt and uncle's car, taking his time, and it was also for this reason that Vernon Dursley chose that moment to his him in the back of the head with a flat palm and growl, "Hurry up, boy! We haven't got all day to wait on freaks like you."

Harry just shook it off, but he did walk a little faster as he lugged his Hogwarts trunk and his owl, Hedwig's, cage toward the waiting car. Petunia and Dudley Dursley, Harry's aunt and cousin, were already inside, and it was partly because he would have to sit next to his cousin in the car, where there was no possible means of escape should Dudley decide to find courage and go back to his old routine of hitting Harry, that the young wizard was dreading it.

As it turned out, Harry was partly right, at least. Dudley was certainly no longer going to run screaming from a room just because Harry entered it, but he didn't show any signs of trying to hurt him -- yet. Harry felt like smiling inside; the Dursleys were afraid of him! After all, they knew he was a wizard, but they did not know that underage wizards, like Harry, were not allowed to use magic outside of school except in life-threatening situations. Actually, Harry didn't even know that last part yet.

So, for a few days, the Dursleys weren't quite as horrible as usual. Dudley didn't hit him, Uncle Vernon didn't yell at him, and Aunt Petunia didn't.. well, anything. She didn't speak to him or even get him food, but Harry could do that well enough on his own, so he didn't particularly mind. Of course, his trunk and all his things were locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and Hedwig was padlocked inside her cage, but for the most part, the Dursleys were still ignoring Harry, and he much prefered it that way.

Harry knew it would never last.

It had been two weeks since he had come back to Privet Drive for the summer, and there had been no letters from his best friends Ron and Hermione, or from the Hogwarts gamekeeper Hagrid, or from anyone else Harry knew the whole time he had been home. All three of them had promised to write, and Harry began to wonder darkly if they had forgotten him. Then he began to wonder if his uncle was stopping the owls who delivered wizard mail somehow; but that was ridiculous. If Uncle Vernon had been able to stop the letters, he would have done it last year, when Hogwarts had been trying to despereately to inform him that he was a wizard. Harry wished that Hedwig was free, so that he could send out a letter, but then he thought that he wouldn't want to do it, anyway. If they wanted to talk to him, they would have sent him a letter.

Dudley was quick to notice this, as well as the fact that every time Harry threatened him with magic, nothing happened. He seemed to love tormenting Harry more than anything. Harry supposed it was because Dudley couldn't get to the boys at Smeltings, the private school that the Muggle boy attended, and he was no longer afraid of his cousin's empty threats.

Harry was always good at dodging Dudley's gang, but he couldn't do it forever, and at last they caught up with him. When he came home covered in dirt and blood, Aunt Petunia just told him to be careful not to get it on the carpet. Naturally, he hadn't expected anything more; but he did wish that he could use magic to fix his glasses instead of tape.

The next thing Harry knew, it was the day before his birthday. Dudley, Piers, and Gordon had found him again two days before, so he again looked rather like he had been hit by a slow-moving car. Of course, the Dursleys didn't notice (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they didn't care), and they had much more important things on their minds than Harry's birthday.

"Right," Uncle Vernon said as they sat down to breakfast. "Today is all planned out. Petunia, you make dinner and wait for the Masons to arrive. Dudley, you wait for them at the door. And as for you, boy," he shot a death glare at Harry -- "you will keep very, very quiet in your room if you know what's good for you."

If that wasn't the most perfect birthday present in the world -- getting to spend one's birthday pretending they don't exist! Perfect, just perfect. But his aunt and uncle were beginning to follow Dudley's lead, fearing his magic less and less as he had as yet not proven his ability to use any, and he didn't want to make them too angry. Yet. When he was seventeen, though, he planned to take them to a highly wizard-populated area and leave them there just for the amusement of it.. but that would have to wait.

So, at dinnertime, Harry walked grudgingly up to his room, wanting very much to tell Uncle Vernon exactly what he thought of their precious little dinner guest. He wouldn't dream of actually doing it, of course; but that didn't stop him from wishing with all his might that he could. So it was with a weary sigh that he opened the door to Dudley's second bedroom, now his -- and then stopped dead in his tracks.

There, sitting on his bed, was one of the strangest creatures Harry had ever seen. It looked like some kind of dwarf with no hair, batlike ears, and a very long nose. The fact that it was wearing what looked very much like a ragged pillowcase didn't help, and Harry found himself wondering in shock what his aunt and uncle would think if they found this -- well, whatever this was -- inside their house.

"Harry Potter, sir, I am Dobby, sir, Dobby the house-elf, sir!" The creature said in a squeaky voice. "Sir, I come to warn you, sir, that danger is coming to Hogwarts, sir, and that Harry Potter, sir, must not go back to school this year, sir!"

Harry stared at the house-elf, probably trying to decide whether or not to say anything about the fact that about every other word out of the elf's mouth seemed to be 'sir,' before he finally said, "Dobby, is it? Dobby, I can't stay here. I'm a wizard. My aunt and uncle are Muggles. They'll kill me, I don't belong here."

"No, sir, no! Harry Potter, sir, must not go back to Hogwarts, sir! There is a plot, sir, to make most evil things happen, sir!"

"A plot? About what? Who is plotting it?"

Dobby promptly threw himself toward the window and started hitting himself in the head with a lamp. In the dining room below, Vernon Dursley could be heard saying loudly, "Dudley probably left his television on -- I had best go turn it off!"

Harry grabbed Dobby and hid the elf in a wardrobe just as his uncle walked in the door. "What the devil are you doing, boy!?" Uncle Vernon demanded. "One more sound from you and you'll wish you were never born!"

Vernon Dursley disappeared back downstairs, and Harry let Dobby out of the wardrobe. "You see!?" Harry said earnestly. "You see what they're like? I have to go back to Hogwarts, I have to go back to my friends!"

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry's green eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

"Sir.. Dobby.. Dobby only wanted to protect Harry Potter, sir!"

"You have my letters!?"

"Yes, sir, Dobby has them, sir." Dobby proceeded to pull a stack of letters from inside the pillowcase, and Harry stared.

"Give them back to me!"

"No, sir! Not unless Harry Potter, sir, promises not to go back to school, sir!"

"Then no, sir! No, you cannot have them, sir!"

Dobby promptly disappeared out the door and Harry ran after him, terrified that he would be blamed for such a strange little creature being found inside the house. He gasped when he came to the foot of the stairs to see that Dobby was causing the huge pudding that Aunt Petunia had spent all afternoon making to float in midair.

"Dobby, put it down, please!" Harry begged. "They'll kill me, put it down!"

"Harry Potter, sir, must say that he will not go back to school, sir!"

"Dobby -- I can't --"

"Then Dobby must do it, sir," Dobby said sadly, "for Harry Potter's own good, sir."

The pudding promptly began to float toward the sitting room, and Harry ran after it, trying to be quiet and catch it before it dropped at the same time. Unfortunately, just as he had almost caught it, the pudding dropped on Mrs. Mason's head and Dobby disappeared with a crack.

Aunt Petunia gasped and ran off toward the kitchen. Then: "I'm so sorry," Uncle Vernon said apologetically. "It's my nephew -- he's very disturbed -- he hurts himself, as you can see, and strangers upset him..."

On the pretense of escorting Harry away, Uncle Vernon grasped the boy's arm so hard that he seemed to be trying to snap it in two and hissed just loud enough for Harry to hear, "You wait until the Masons are gone, boy.. you just wait..." And there was a manic gleam in his eye that made Harry dread whatever it was that he was waiting for.

They had barely reached the doorway to the kitchen, however, when an owl suddenly swooped through an open window and dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's pudding-covered head. Apparently, this was the last straw; with a scream that could rival a banshee, she ran from the house, leaving the slightly stained letter and a trail of pudding behind her.

Uncle Vernon grabbed the letter and tore it open, to Harry's protest. It was obviously meant for the only wizard in the household, and by the evil grin that was spreading across Uncle Vernon's face, Harry had a very bad feeling. Turning back to Harry, Uncle Vernon shoved it into his hand. "Read it, boy," he said dangerously, and Harry, his heart pounding, did so.

Even after reading it, Harry continued staring at the paper, even though he knew he couldn't do this for long. At last, he looked up at Uncle Vernon, who was now smiling as if Christmas had come early.

"You know what this means, boy?" he growled, and Harry shook his head meekly. "This means that we can keep you here -- lock you up -- do whatever we like -- and if you try to magic yourself away, you won't get to go back to your freak school, anyway!" Then, with a laugh like he hadn't given since he had found the hut on the rock where he thought he was safe from the wizard post a year ago, Vernon Dursley proceeded to grab a handful of Harry's jet-black hair and drag him up the stairs by it.

Harry found out quickly that it is very hard to climb stairs while another, taller person is trying to pull you up them by your hair. He stumbled on the fourth step, fell on the sixth with a gasp that Uncle Vernon ignored, was dragged up five more, and at last managed to regain his footing three steps before the second story landing. He wished Uncle Vernon would let go of him, but it seemed unlikely that that would be happening any time soon.

Uncle Vernon stopped rather abruptly in front of Harry's door, which refused to open, sending Harry crashing into him and him crashing into the doorframe. "Blasted door," he growled before turning back to Harry and continuing, "Watch where you're going, boy!"

His hand thudded on the back of Harry's head, and the boy saw stars, but still managed to say, "The door opens the other way."

Grunting to admit that his nephew was right, Vernon Dursley flung the door open and threw Harry inside, where the boy managed to trip over a book in the floor, back into the foot of the bed, and fall spectacularly into a pile of Dudley's broken toys which were still stacked along the wall.

Uncle Vernon ignored this and said in a dreadful voice, "Best get used to it, boy; you're going to be in here for a long, long time." Then, with another maniacal laugh, Vernon Dursley slammed the door and there was a click as it was locked.

It was very late -- well after four in the morning -- when Harry finally fell into a fitful sleep. This was rather hard, considering that the only thing he had eaten that day was a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese. He had been given a small dish of canned vegetables, as well, but he had given those to Hedwig. If he had been in his cupboard last year, he would have been able to sneak up for a snack; but this year he was in a bedroom, a bedroom with a lock, and there was really no way of getting out without magic -- at least, no way that Harry could think of -- so at last he had resigned himself to trying to rest.

However, rest did not come easy. Harry's dreams were haunted by images of his parents' smiling faces, disappearing in a flash of green light as Voldemort's face loomed out of the back of Quirrell's head and laughed, high and cold... Then that laugh turned into his uncle's, as Vernon Dursley dragged Harry out of bed by his hair and threw him down the stairs... Aunt Petunia and Dudley were waiting in the hallway and looking up at Uncle Vernon, laughing... Then Harry became aware of another voice, a low hiss, whispering from some hidden corner of the room: "Potter."

The voice had no trace of laughter in it at all, and it seemed out of place in this dream. Harry tried to get up from where he had fallen, to see where it was coming from, but Dudley put a heavy foot on top of him, pinning him to the ground... Then a hand grasped his shoulder tightly, causing him to wince due to a bruise there, and the cold voice hissed again, "Potter."

Harry jerked awake to find that both the hand with the death grip on his shoulder, and the whispering voice, were quite real. Standing there above him, the pallid face and greasy black hair illuminated by a sliver of moonlight that had found its way through the bars that now covered Harry's window, was one of the last people he wanted to see while he was hungry and sore: Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts.

Snape had loosened his grip on Harry's shoulder, and Harry noticed that the man's black eyes lingered on it as the twelve-year-old got up and turned a lamp on, then looked around skeptically, as if trying to detect other wizards hiding in the room. Upon failing, Harry opened his mouth to say something, but had no idea what it was, and closed it again without uttering a word. He was at a complete loss as to why a man who hated him had suddenly turned up in his bedroom in the dead of night.

"Do try not to look so stupid," Snape said harshly, though his voice was still quiet as a whisper. "You look enough like your father as it is, Potter."

Harry stared at him, slightly angered by this comment, but he decided that it would be best to ignore it for now and try to figure out what in the world was going on. At last, he found his voice and said abruptly, "What are you doing here?"

"I was sent here, Potter, being the only staff member free, to attempt to divine why in Merlin's name you would do such a stupid thing as using a Hover Charm outside of Hogwarts -- and in front of Muggles, no less! Now, explain yourself -- and I strongly suggest that you employ whatever manners you have in the doing."

Harry glared at Snape and made his voice forcibly calm as he tried to explain without raising his voice what had happened. Snape looked skeptical upon the mention of a house-elf, and Harry noticed it immediately. "Look, I'm not lying!" he said to the unvoiced objection. "I didn't even know what a house-elf was before that one came in, you think I could make it up?"

"Watch your mouth, Potter," Snape said dangerously, his black eyes glinting. "The truth of any tale you come out with is to be decided by Professor Dumbledore. Most unfortunately, he is away at the Ministry, and the task of watching to be sure that you perform no more illegal magic has fallen to me."

"I told you, I didn't --"

"Silence!" Snape hissed, and Harry's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Snape went on, "Regardless of whatever your excuse may be, it remains my obligation to stay here until such time as I can take you to Professor Dumbledore this afternoon."

"Th -- afternoon!?" Harry asked, horrified. It seemed that he would not only be spending a very long time with Snape -- quite too long for Harry's liking -- but that the surly Potions Master would still be there when Uncle Vernon opened the door in the morning to give his nephew whatever he was trying to pass off as a suitable breakfast and to allow Harry one of his two daily trips to the bathroom.

"Yes," answered Snape, sounding rather bored, seeming not to notice the fact that Harry was lost in thought. "I assure you, Potter, I am no more happy about this than you."

"But surely -- you won't be -- you have other things to do?"

"Unfortunately not. I am afraid that Dumbledore gave me specific orders to remain here."

There was a long silence. Snape looked at Harry. Harry looked at Snape. Snape was still wondering about why the boy had flinched when his shoulder had been touched. Harry was trying to figure out a way to get Snape out of the room when Uncle Vernon came in. At last, he decided that honesty was the best policy.. at least, a bit of it.

"Sir," he began, knowing this would make Snape more receptive to what he had to say. "Sir, you will be here until then?"

"I have already said so, Potter."

"But, sir -- my uncle -- he won't be happy," Harry said at last.

"Your uncle is a Muggle, correct?" Harry nodded, and Snape went on: "Then I am certain that he will oblige a wizard sent by Dumbledore."

"You don't understand," Harry said quickly. "Uncle Vernon despises magic. He won't want you here, and if he finds you, he'll take it out on me."

Snape's right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly and Harry bit his tongue, realizing what he had just said. Immediately, he wished he hadn't, but he couldn't take the words back.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked quietly, his voice icy.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, shaking his head. "I didn't mean anything."

Snape looked skeptical, but he did not say anything immediately. Harry got tired of waiting for a response. "There isn't any way you could leave? For a little while?" he asked desperately.

It had been growing steadily lighter outside since Snape had arrived, although Harry hadn't realized it because of the lamp he had turned on earlier. As a ray of light sifted through the bars on the window, however, Snape was suddenly given a clear view of Harry's face, and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

"Where did that bruise come from, Potter?"

Harry's veins were flooded with ice until his very heart seemed to freeze. "I -- what bruise is that?"

"Don't play stupid, boy. The bruise on your face."

"Oh -- that! I -- I walked into a door..."

"Don't lie to me, Potter," Snape said, his eyes black slits in that pale face. Noting that Hedwig was padlocked inside her cage, Snape decided to work on a hunch. He crossed the room to the door and, despite Harry's protests, tried to pull it open. As it was locked from the outside, the door did not budge.

"You are locked in this room," Snape observed coldly. "Why?"

"I -- I --"

"Why are you locked inside, Potter?"

"Because I -- that is, when the pudding crashed -- I --"

"Answer me, Potter!"

"Because Uncle Vernon found out I wasn't allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts!" Harry blurted out before he even knew what he was saying.

Snape looked at him with cold black eyes, and Harry tried to avoid that gaze, but he couldn't. He didn't want Snape to know even what he already did, he should have kept his mouth shut... Then Snape said something quite unexpected.

"Get your things, Potter. We are leaving."

Harry stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe or understand what he had just heard. "I -- what --"

"Get your things," Snape repeated, and Harry was surprised at the lack of venom in his voice.

"But I -- I can't."

"And why not?"

"I don't have them -- Uncle Vernon -- they're locked away," Harry tried to explain, but his brain was still somewhat numb from shock.

"Where?"

"The cupboard under the stairs..."

Harry was going to continue, but Snape was already unlocking the door with his wand. He disappeared, and Harry paused for a moment before following, still completely dumbfounded by what was happening.

He found Snape unlocking the cupboard, and there was a look of disgust in those black eyes as he saw how the trunk and broomstick were stacked haphazardly inside, obviously with no care for them at all.

"Take this," Snape said when he saw Harry, and thrust the Nimbus Two Thousand into its owner's hands. Snape then pointed his wand into the cupboard and said "Locomotor trunk," and the heavy trunk that held almost all of Harry's belongings in it lifted into the air.

Snape sent Harry back upstairs, and directed the trunk back to Harry's room. Upon settling it on the floor without a sound, he said to Harry, "Bring your owl and broomstick, and keep a tight hold on them."

Harry did as he was told, though he had no idea why; he settled Hedwig's cage on top of the trunk and held the Nimbus Two Thousand in the other hand. While he was doing this, Snape had chosen a copy of Moby Dick from the floor, tapped it with his wand, and murmured, "Portus."

Looking back at Harry, Snape said, "This book is now a Portkey; it will transport us out of here."

"Sir, where are we --"

"Keep hold of your owl and broomstick, and place a finger on the Portkey."

After a glance at Snape, Harry did so. There was a jerk behind his navel and his finger was suddenly glued to the book, his hands seized around his broomstick and Hedwig's cage. He felt his feet leave the ground, and he knew that he was leaving Privet Drive behind, but he still had no idea where he was going...

Harry's feet hit the ground hard, and his knees buckled. He saw only a swirl of green and gray as he fell, dropping both his broomstick and Hedwig's cage. The snowy owl hooted loudly, her amber eyes disdainful, and she flapped her wings against the bars of her cage.

"Alohomora."

Hedwig's cage flew open, and Harry looked up just in time to see the owl take flight. "What are you doing!?" he demanded, glaring at Snape. "Where will she go? How will she find us?"

"I released a caged owl," Snape said coldly, "and unless I am much mistaken, she will go to the Owlery. Have you not noticed where you are, Potter?"

Harry looked around, and his heart leapt; he was back at Hogwarts! Snape's Portkey had brought them right to the gates. Immediately, Harry felt a twang of guilt; he had just blown up at Snape after the man had taken him from the Dursleys and brought him to Hogwarts, no less. Of course, Harry wasn't going to say that. All he did say was, "Oh. Right."

Snape sneered and repeated, "Right. Come, Potter."

The Potions Master then set off across the Hogwarts grounds, levitating the trunk and the things stacked on top of it and making a straight path for the castle, his black robes billowing behind him. Harry had a hard time keeping up, because Snape seemed to be in some sort of hurry. Or did he always walk this fast? Harry didn't know, and he wasn't about to ask.

Snape didn't slow down any when they came into the castle, but he did leave Harry's things at the door. He seemed to only be paying attention to where he was going and to whatever it was that he planned on doing once he got there, because he didn't even notice as he almost stepped on Mrs. Norris or pay any attention at all when she hissed at him and streaked off somewhere, presumably to look for Filch. But even a hurried Severus Snape could not ignore what waited for them as they turned onto the path that led to the dungeons.

There, wearing huge glasses that magnified her eyes and countless strings of beads and heavy shawls, was the Divination teacher, Professor Sibyll Trelawney. Harry had never met her, and so he wondered who she was and what she was doing in the school. Snape, however, knew Trelawney well -- at least, as well as it was possible to know someone who rarely left their room -- and seemed as shocked as Harry was to find her there, although for different reasons.

"Sibyll," he said, surprise in his cold voice. "What, may I ask, are you doing in the dungeons? Your room is in a tower, is it not?"

"Mine is, yes, Severus," Trelawney answered in her mystical tone. "Septima's, however, is not. And seeing as the two of us and Minerva are the only teachers left in the school at the moment, when the fates informed me that I should go for a visit, I came down here."

"I see," Snape said, his voice uncaring again. "In that case, we shall we going, Sibyll."

Trelawney, however, grasped Harry's arm as he went by. Harry probably could have broken away from her grasp, but something in her eyes held him fast. They were wide and manic, almost frenzied, and suddenly Harry realized what had stopped him: the look in her eyes now was just like the one that had been in Uncle Vernon's a week ago, when he had dragged Harry up the stairs and thrown him into the room, when he had put in the bars on the window and the extra locks on the door, when he had given Harry the slice of sandwich meat that was his first "meal" under the new regime and seemed to dare him to object. It made Harry cringe inwardly, and it was what froze him in his tracks as he stared into those eyes.

A hand clasped onto his shoulder, firm but gentle, and Harry snapped out of it. There was only Sibyll Trelawney standing in front of him, now looking off to Harry's left; and there, meeting her gaze with a venomous stare, was Severus Snape. Harry registered vaguely that Snape's grip was not as harsh as it had been only an hour or so before, but he did not have time to wonder why. Snape was trying to pull him away by that shoulder while Trelawney still held onto the opposite arm.

"We must be going, Sibyll," Snape said in the lethal tones that he normally reserved for students who exploded cauldrons in his Potions classes.

"But, Severus --"

"There is no need to inform us of any grave danger or imminent demise that you think you have foreseen."

"Very well, then," Trelawney said huffily, her voice losing its mystical quality. "I can see when my Gift is not appreciated."

She released Harry's arm and put her nose in the air. Unfortunately, she failed to see the suit of armor in front of her as she tried to leave the dungeon path and, as a result, crashed right into it. Harry couldn't suppress a laugh, and a cold sneer played across Snape's face.

Trelawney picked herself up, looking distinctly ruffled with her thick glasses ajar, and said quickly, "Laugh if you will, but I have Seen! You have both been brought here by the hand of fate, and fate may yet lead you to your doom!"

Harry stared after Trelawney as she stalked away, looking harrassed. Just as she turned a corner and went out of sight, Harry realized that Snape still grasped his shoulder. Apparently that fact dawned on Snape at the same time, because he withdrew his hand as if an electric shock had run through it. Turning on his heel, he began down the path into the dungeons again, saying, "Come, Potter."

As he followed Snape through the dungeons, Harry thought about everything that had happened and wondered why Snape had brought him here. Would he be allowed to stay at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer vacation? Surely Dumbledore wouldn't send him back to be locked up in Privet Drive, but would the headmaster believe him when Harry told him about Dobby? If no one would believe him, would Harry be expelled? Snape certainly didn't believe a word of Harry's story.. at least, he didn't think he did...

Then Snape stopped, and Harry looked around. They were outside Snape's office, and the Potions Master was unlocking the door. Harry wondered what Snape had brought him here for. Maybe he just thought it would be more comfortable to wait in his own office than at the Dursleys? Did that mean that he would send Harry back after they had met Dumbledore?

"Sit down, Potter," Snape told him, gesturing at the chair in front of the professor's desk. Harry did as he was told, but he kept glancing back at Snape, who seemed to be looking for something on the shelves behind him.

Finally, Snape took his seat behind the desk, and Harry met his eye uneasily. There was a long moment of silence. Harry wasn't sure why he was here, and the dead creatures floating in jars of liquid that lined the walls certainly didn't put his mind at ease. He wanted to know what was going on, but at the same time he dreaded it, because he was afraid that he was about to be expelled or sent back to the Dursleys. He knew that Uncle Vernon must know he was gone by now, and he didn't want to think about what his uncle would do when he realized that locking Harry up in a room with barred windows didn't help to keep him inside.

"When is the last time that you ate, Potter?" Snape asked suddenly.

Whatever Harry was expecting, this wasn't it. "I -- it was -- what?"

"When did you last eat?"

"Yesterday, I suppose," Harry said uncomfortably, remembering the piece of bread and hunk of cheese. "It was early when you came, you see," he tried to explain, but he fell silent quickly under Snape's stare.

There was another long silence and, at the end of it, Snape spoke again. Again, it was something Harry had definitely not expected.

"How long has your uncle been locking you inside that room?"

"He -- it was just, when the house-elf levitated the pudding -- he lost a business deal, and he was angry."

Snape seemed to pause for a moment, and then said, "I see." Then he drew his wand, and Harry stiffened; but then a plate of bacon and sausages, a silver goblet, and a jug of pumpkin juice appeared on the desk. Harry paused and then looked back at Snape, as if he didn't understand what this meant.

"Eat, Potter," Snape told him. "Professor Dumbledore will not be happy if I take you to meet him undernourished."

Harry glanced toward the plate and then back at Snape again before finally picking up a sausage. This wasn't like Snape at all, Harry thought. It was almost nice; and the day that Snape was nice to a Gryffindor, especially a Gryffindor with the surname of Potter, was the day that Voldemort married a Muggle. Perhaps he was just following orders; but that didn't explain why he had brought Harry to Hogwarts, either. None of it made sense at the moment, and Harry's head was starting to hurt from trying to figure it out. Or maybe it was just that, because he hadn't eaten much at all in a week, his body couldn't figure out what to do with the food.

Probably both, Harry thought wryly, putting down a half-eaten piece of bacon. It was then that he noticed that Snape was watching him, and Harry almost jumped, but managed to just flinch. Something glinted in Snape's black eyes then, and Harry wondered if the Slytherin Head of House was laughing at him behind that expressionless mask. He could just hear Snape's cold voice biting at him for it, just like it had last year in Harry's first ever Potions class.

Snape, however, did not say anything, but continued to look at Harry as if the Gryffindor were a book that he had yet to finish. It was rather unsettling, not least of all because Harry kept half expecting him to start snapping at him about not studying or taking points from Gryffindor. Finally, after a minute of looking back at Snape and shifting uncomfortably, Harry spoke.

"Sir, what -- er, what time is it?" He had almost asked 'what now?' but he didn't think Snape would take too kindly to the question.

"It is six-thirteen." Then, as if anticipating Harry's next question, Snape went on, "Professor Dumbledore will not return until four in the afternoon."

That was almost ten hours! Harry couldn't believe it. Ten hours of waiting down in the dungeons with only an oddly silent Snape for company. Of course, it was a thousand times better than the Dursleys', and at least Snape wasn't yelling at him or insulting him -- yet -- but it still seemed like an eternity. Again, as if on cue, Snape spoke up.

"You may walk about the castle, Potter, on the condition that your wand remains in the trunk by the castle door."

"Am I allowed to visit Hedwig?"

"So long as you send no letters. They could easily be intercepted, and the Ministry should not know that you are here."

That was all it took; Harry was on his feet in an instant. He could go and see Hedwig, and maybe even get one of his books out of his trunk and work on the homework that the Dursleys hadn't even let him start. He already had the door open and was on the point of walking through it when he paused and looked back. Snape was still sitting behind his desk, watching silently. Harry glanced at him and said quietly, "Thanks." As he walked out the door, he was certain he saw a look of astonishment on Snape's face.

*~*~*

Somehow, that day seemed to move more slowly than almost any other that Severus Snape could remember. He couldn't decide what to tell Dumbledore, and so he couldn't predict what Dumbledore would say, either. If half of what the boy had said -- and what he hadn't said -- was true, then Harry couldn't go back to his aunt and uncle, whatever Dumbledore had thought was the best for him eleven years ago.

Eleven years! It was hard to believe that it had been that long. James and Lily Potter were gone, and after all that time, their son was being locked up and all but starved by Lily's own sister and brother-in-law. Grudgingly, Severus had to admit that James did always protect the ones who were close to him; and Lily might have seemed quiet at first glance, but she was a fiery powerhouse if you crossed her, Severus knew that first-hand. Neither of them would have allowed their child to be treated that way had they been alive. So did that leave it down to Severus Snape, who owed them so great a debt, to help? Certainly Albus or Minerva could manage it much better than he. It would be enough that Severus had taken Harry away from his aunt and uncle, brought him to the people who could help. He wouldn't even have to have anything to do with it.

Severus looked at the clock on the wall, half hidden behind a jar of pickled murtlap tentacles: eleven-forty-five. With a sigh, he stood up and went to find Potter; the boy would probably not know where to go to find lunch, and he needed to eat whatever he could. Just looking at him, you could tell that he hadn't had a decent meal in a week.

Having expected to be forced to search the entire school over to find him, Severus was surprised to find Potter as soon as he came up from the dungeons. Yet there he was, right in the corridor, his back resting against the wall and a book propped open on his knees. At first, Severus thought that he was reading; but he didn't move as the Potions Master approached, his glasses had slid down on the bridge of his nose, and his breathing was too fine and even.

He paused to put the cap back on the bottle of ink that Harry had been writing with and looked down at the paper he had been writing on. Beneath a large drop of scarlet ink was half a Potions essay, and Severus was surprised to see that most of the information was correct. Interesting. Perhaps he isn't entirely like his father, after all.

"Lunch, Potter," he said, shaking Harry by the shoulder. As he opened his eyes, Severus was taken aback by how startlingly green they were. They were Lily's eyes, not James's, at all. He had never noticed that before.

"What?" Harry asked sleepily as he sat up. He straightened his glasses and found himself looking up at Severus Snape. For a moment, he didn't remember where he was or why this man of everyone on earth was standing over him; then he remembered what had happened that day, and he realized what Snape had been saying. "Oh, right. I thought there were only a few people left here, though? Sir?"

"Minerva McGonagall, Septima Vector, Sibyll Trelawney -- and now, you and myself," Snape answered. "The house-elves who prepare the meals always remain at Hogwarts, however; they have prepared a meal in the staff room."

Harry nodded and followed Snape to the staff room, thinking all the way about something he found quite curious. Snape was actually acting civil toward him, and when the Potions Master had awoken him a few moments ago, there had been none of the usual loathing in his eyes. It didn't make sense, but Harry was tired of trying to puzzle it out by the time they reached the staff room and a smaller version of lunch in the Great Hall laid out on a table inside.

*~*~*

It seemed like another long eternity before four o'clock drew near, but it came at last. Harry had finished his Potions essay, as well as his Transfiguration one, by the time Snape came to get him. He had been sitting in the corridor again, since he didn't know a password to get into his common room and the Great Hall was just too big and empty to study in, and this time he was awake, reading A History of Magic and frowning at the blank parchment on which he was supposed to be writing an essay about some goblin rebellion for History of Magic.

Harry had never been to Dumbledore's office before, and as Snape gave the password -- Lemon Drop -- he was startled to find what looked like a stone escalator waiting to take him up. He stepped onto it, and Snape came up after him; then, when they reached a door, Snape knocked.

"Come in."

Dumbledore was waiting for them, sitting behind his desk and watching them with those blue eyes that seemed to x-ray whatever -- or whomever -- they were turned on. He motioned for Harry to sit down opposite him, but Snape remained standing, and Harry thought he could feel those black eyes through the back of his head.

"Harry," said Dumbledore sadly, "You know the rules as well as every other student at Hogwarts. What could have possessed you to use a Hover Charm while in the room with Muggles?"

"I didn't, sir," Harry said earnestly, and he began his long explanation. Dumbledore, however, did not look skeptical when Harry mentioned a house-elf, merely curious.

At last, when Harry had finished, Dumbledore actually smiled. "Thank you, Harry," he said, nodding as if he had hoped for something like this all along. "I shall speak with Cornelius, though I doubt he will accept the explanation of a house-elf in a Muggle house. No, I do not doubt you, Harry," he added as Harry began to open his mouth, "but that does not mean that everyone in the wizarding world will have no objections."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said gratefully.

"Well, then," Dumbledore began briskly, but Snape interrupted him: "Professor, there is another matter that I wished to discuss wtih you, before anything else is said."

"Of course, Severus."

"If Potter could wait outside...?"

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry nodded. He crossed the room and left, closing the door with a snap behind him; but then Snape began to speak, and Harry froze when he heard what he had said.

"Headmaster, I do not believe that Potter should return to his aunt and uncle. You sent me to check on the boy this morning, and I arrived to find him locked in a room with bars on the window. He had not been given proper food for at least a week, and I suppose you noted the bruise on his face and the cut on his eyebrow?"

"The Dursleys?" Dumbledore's voice asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes. He would not admit it, and he would not give me any answer at all; but I found it in his mind, for it was the first thing to come into his head when I mentioned it."

"You used legilimency on him?" Dumbledore sounded disapproving.

"I had no other choice. Would you rather I had not found out what was going on in that house? That I had sent him back, to be thrown around and starved? They were not going to allow him to return to Hogwarts, Headmaster," he added, his voice suddenly dangerous. "No one would have known until he did not return, assuming he managed without food until then."

"I see," Dumbledore said slowly, and Harry could just picture him sitting there with his fingertips pressed together, thinking. At last, he spoke again: "He cannot remain at Hogwarts, Severus."

"Surely there is somewhere he can be sent. Minerva --"

"Must remain here. She has much left to do before the school year begins. Sibyll and Septima have no other home. Where would you send him, Severus?"

"There must be somewhere, Albus."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, and then he said quietly, "You could take him."

"I!?" Snape asked incredulously. "You wish me to take the son of James Potter!?"

"He is Lily's son, too, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. When Snape failed to respond, he added, "It would be only three weeks."

There was a long silence, and at last Snape sighed and said, "Very well..."

Harry practically ran down the stairs from Dumbledore's office, and stopped at the foot of them with his heart pounding. Snape knew -- how could he know!? This legilimency -- Harry didn't like the sound of it. It seemed that Snape really could read minds.

"Potter," Snape's voice said, and Harry did jump this time, nearly losing his balance as he tried to turn around quickly. "You will be coming with me."

"Coming -- with you? Where?"

"Would you rather return to your aunt and uncle?"

Harry was silent for a second, as if debating this; but it didn't take long. Snape might not like him, but the man had never raised a hand toward him and he had given him food -- real food -- twice already that day. And anyway, it meant that he was in the wizarding world, and that he wouldn't have to face Uncle Vernon's anger until next year, at least. So he met Snape's gaze and said slowly, "No.. no, I wouldn't."

Harry hardly knew what he was doing as he carried the empty cage up to the Owlery and finally found Hedwig asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't believe what was happening any more than he could understand it. Snape was still far from nice, but he hadn't snapped at Harry since before they had taken the Portkey to Hogwarts. And then there was the whole matter of this legilimency thing; Harry didn't like the idea of Snape being able to know what he was thinking, and that sounded very much like what Dumbledore and Snape had been talking about.

"Come on, Hedwig," Harry coaxed, and the snowy owl pulled her head out from under her wing. When her amber eyes found Harry, she hooted and flew down to land on his shoulder and nip his ear. He held up her cage and said, "Get in, Hedwig."

Hedwig's eyes narrowed and she hooted disdainfully at the cage. "Don't worry," Harry reassured her. "You won't be locked in this time. We're going with Professor Snape -- he's the one who let you out earlier today, remember?" But Hedwig still just looked at Harry, so he said encouragingly, "Go on, it'll be all right. He can't be worse than the Dursleys, can he?"

Hedwig seemed to believe him, for she landed neatly in her cage and allowed Harry to close the door; but Harry was really trying to convince himself as much as the owl. The decision was made, but he was still not quite sure about Snape, whatever he kept telling himself. Things still seemed more than a little strange, and he couldn't get over that feeling. Maybe he was just being paranoid; Harry hoped so.

"Have you found your owl, Harry?"

Harry turned to see none other than Albus Dumbledore standing there, framed in the door to the Owlery. "Yes, sir," he said automatically, raising Hedwig's cage a little so that the snowy owl was clearly visible.

"Ah, so I see," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "We had best begin the walk downstairs, then, Harry; I believe Professor Snape is waiting rather impatiently by the castle doors."

This seemed to worry Harry, who didn't want to make Snape angry at him already, and it did not escape the headmaster's attention. "You are uncertain about spending the rest of your summer vacation with Professor Snape," Dumbledore observed as they walked down the stairs from the Owlery.

"A little," Harry admitted after a short pause. "He always seems to hate me so much..."

"Professor Snape does not hate you, Harry. If he hated you, he would likely have left you to your aunt and uncle. Do you not realize that?"

"I guess."

Dumbledore sighed and said quietly, "Severus Snape and James Potter detested each other from the first time they met on the train to Hogwarts. That dislike only grew with time.. for many reasons. At the same time, it was the fault of neither of them, and of both of them."

Harry tried to decipher what this meant, but he had no luck. Dumbledore seemed to like speaking in riddles.

"I must ask you to remember this, Harry," the headmaster continued. "Professor Snape despised James Potter, and he holds a grudge against him to this day. But, Harry, however much you may resemble him in features, or even in actions from time to time.. you are not your father. Professor Snape will realize that in time."

Harry was silent, thinking to himself. He hoped that Dumbledore was right, and that whenever "in time" was, it came soon.

*~*~*

Contrary to whatever Dumbledore might have thought, Severus was not even thinking of where Harry was now as he stood still as a statue by the front doors. His mind was in the past, thinking over things that had happened and things that had been said. Most of them were quite depressing, and even those that weren't were still saddening, because they filled him with regret when they came to mind.

Severus didn't know why, but on top of those memories, he kept thinking of finding Potter asleep in that corridor. Was it because he had realized then that the boy wasn't entirely his father made over? Or was it perhaps because he had seen Lily in those eyes, not just Potter himself? They were her eyes exactly, as much as the rest of the boy's face was James's.

Then again, there was another possilibity. It could also have something to do with the fact that the boy seemed so at peace in Hogwarts, just like Severus himself had all those years ago. Maybe he was beginning to see himself in the boy!? Severus shook his head at the thought; it was absolutely ridiculous. The boy was too much like James Potter to be at all like anyone else.. except maybe Lily. Maybe. Severus wasn't sure yet.

"Ah, there you are, Severus," Dumbledore said serenely as he and Harry appeared at the door. "I hope we did not keep you waiting for too long?"

"Of course not, Headmaster," Severus answered, turning to face them. "You have your things, Potter?" he asked, and Harry nodded. "You repacked your books and parchment?"

Harry froze, looked thoughtful, and then set Hedwig's cage down on the steps. "I think I left them in the corridor," he said apologetically. "I'll, er, be right back." He disappeared back inside, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"You find this amusing, Headmaster?" Severus asked quietly.

"Oh, I don't know," Dumbledore answered bemusedly. "Perhaps interesting would be closer to the mark."

"What is interesting about it? I see only that the boy would forget his own head, were it not so securely fastened to his neck."

"Because that is what you want to see, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "You expect to see the man you hated in him, and so you do. However, this causes you to overlook the greater part of him, the part which does not resemble James at all."

Severus was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. "I... am beginning to see Lily in him," he admitted at last. He seemed to be about to go on when Dumbledore interrupted: "Ah, but Severus; Lily is not the only one who could look at Harry and see herself inside him."

There was a pause; Severus did not know what to say to this, and Dumbledore seemed content just to let his thought hang in the air. Then Harry was back, stuffing the books, homework, and quill with ink bottle back inside his trunk, and Severus turned his attention away from what Dumbledore had said.

"Did you take anything else out of your trunk?" he asked and, upon a negative answer, instructed, "Then we will be going. If you will carry your owl to the gates, I shall manage the rest." Harry nodded, picked up Hedwig's cage, and set off across the grounds. Severus raised his wand to levitate the trunk and broomstick, but Dumbledore held him back.

"You must give him a chance, Severus," Dumbledore said almost imploringly. "Let him show you who he really is. Don't look for James in him; look at Harry himself, and you might be surprised at who you see." Then, with a small smile and a twinkle from his blue eyes, he said "Have a good summer" and went back inside. But, as Severus brought Harry's things to the gates, the headmaster's words resounded in his head.

*~*~*

Harry wasn't sure what to think of the next place to which Snape brought him. Upon releasing the Portkey (this time a rather large stone which looked like it had once been a part of the walls around the castle), he found himself in what looked like it had once been a subdivision of fine brick houses, laid out by a river and overshadowed by an old mill. Now, though, the mill was a crumbling ruin and most of the houses looked like they should have been condemned long ago.

"Where are we?" Harry asked as he gazed with vague interest at the huge chimney which had once been part of the mill.

"Spinner's End," Snape said simply, glancing at a weather-worn street sign to his right which bore that very name. He did not seem to be in the mood to elaborate, however, and Harry did not press the matter; he just followed the Potions master down the rather run-down cobblestone street, right to the very end of it.

"Is this where you live?" Harry asked curiously as he looked up at a two-story brick building, the last no the street. It seemed considerbaly better-kept than the others and, as he spoke, Snape was unlocking the door with magic.

"Yes," Severus answered blandly, sounding completely unconcerned about whatever Harry might think of the place. The door opened silently and Harry peered with interest around Snape and into the room beyond.

His first thought was that it looked rather like an old, rarely-visited library. Bookshelves lined every wall, leaving gaps only for two doors (one of which they had just come through) and a single, curtained window facing the east. There was an old sofa and armchair in the middle of the room, along with a spindly table that looked as though it should already have collapsed beneath the weight of several large leatherbound books that lay on top of it.

It was nothing at all like the Dursleys', and definitely not like old Mrs. Figg's. Harry didn't think that all wizard houses were like this one, though; he couldn't see Ron existing in a place with so many books, it would be like trying to lock him in the library at Hogwarts. Actually, Harry hadn't really thought of Snape as the book type; he had pictured some sort of dark dungeon-like room, full of potions supplies and maybe a couple of cauldrons. Now, he realized how silly that idea was. No one could live underground all the time, no matter how much they might seem at home there.

Harry had just realized that this was the first house he could ever remember being inside that didn't belong to the Dursleys or Mrs. Figg when he noticed that Snape was watching him again. It was rather unnerving, how he kept standing silently and watching Harry, as if expecting him to suddenly go berserk and start throwing things. Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, and in truth, Severus himself didn't, either. Perhaps Dumbledore's words were finally beginning to get to him; or maybe he still didn't trust the son of James Potter. At the moment, even Severus could not really tell.

"Come, Potter," he said, levitating the trunk and broomstick again. "I will show you to your room."

Harry expected Snape to head for the only other door leading from the room, but no; he pointed his wand at one of the rows of books and another, hidden door flew open, revealing a staircase leading upward. Now, this seemed like something one might expect from a wizarding house, Harry thought as he followed Snape up the stairs with Hedwig's cage.

At the head of the stairs was a long hallway with peeling, light blue wallpaper, illuminated by several tall candles whose stands were fastened securely to the walls. There were no windows, only doors -- one at the end of the hall, and two on each side. That made five rooms; Harry wondered how many people had lived here at one time. Did Snape have siblings? It was a strange thought, but it wasn't impossible.

Severus proceeded to the second door on the left and turned the knob with his free hand. As he levitated the trunk and broomstick inside, he thought that the place didn't look as empty as he remembered. Then again, that could be because he hadn't opened this door in years.

There weren't any cobwebs or even much dust in the room, however; it was as if spiders avoided the place. The wallpaper was pale gold, with thin white lines running vertically across it. There was a bed against one wall, and the quilt on top of it was of the same gold as the wallpaper. Against the other wall stood a tall wardrobe, and next to it, a door which stood slightly ajar to reveal a bathroom with tiles of pale green. There was only one window in this room, as well; and it, too, had a drawn curtain over it, hiding whatever was behind it from view. There was a hardwood desk and a spindly chair beneath the window.

"Wow," Harry said softly upon entering, the green eyes behind his glasses taking in every inch of the room. It was a lot bigger than Dudley's second bedroom, and even though there wasn't much in it and it seemed to have been deserted for a while, the room looked nice. After a moment, he looked back at Snape, half wary and half curious. "This is my room?"

Severus had been watching the boy again as he stared around the room. He didn't like the look on Harry's face; it was as if he had never seen anything of the sort before. Then again, Severus reminded himself, he probably hadn't, after being locked up in that Muggle dunghill for eleven years. Something like anger (but that couldn't be it, Severus told himself, there was no way he could feel defensive of James Potter's son) sprang up inside him when Harry asked if this was his room.

"Of course it is," Severus answered coldly. "Were you expecting a cupboard?"

Harry turned red and Severus's black eyes narrowed. He had to fight back a sudden desire to look into the boy's mind; but that was not a good idea, he told himself. Dumbledore did not approve of legilimency, and Severus needed Dumbledore on his side. So he just resigned himself to trying to work out for himself why the boy had seemed so embarrassed by this suggestion. Naturally, none of his conclusions were good ones.

Meanwhile, Harry was trying to understand what he had done to make Snape angry again. Had it been just because he had asked a question? It was very possible, he thought; the Dursleys had hated questions more than anything. Maybe Snape was the same way. Suddenly Harry was dreading the next three weeks; he had only been here for two minutes and already he had made Snape angry!

It was Severus who broke the silence first. "You should unpack your things and open the door of your owl's cage," he said, his voice perfectly void of emotion again. "I don't imagine that she is very happy with it after being locked inside all summer. You may use the wardrobe," he added, glancing at the object as he spoke. Then he turned on his heel to face the door, saying as he did so, "Dinner is at seven o'clock, Potter -- that gives you twenty minutes, I suggest you use them wisely."

Harry had one more thing he wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue at first, not wanting to make Snape angry as he seemed to have a minute before. He had to know, though, so just as Snape had begun out the door, he spoke up: "Sir -- Professor Snape? Am I -- am I allowed to send a letter with Hedwig, now?"

Severus stopped in the doorway when the boy spoke, and he turned around with a strange look in his eyes at the tone of voice. Potter seemed hesitant, as if he were afraid he was going to be shouted at; but then again, was that really surprising, considering where he had just come from? That strange feeling like anger burned inside him again, but this time when Severus spoke, his voice did not betray it as it had the last time.

"Yes, I suppose so; it would hardly be advisable to cut you off from the rest of the world entirely. You may send letters, so long as you agree not to mention Hogwarts."

"I won't," Harry promised. Severus nodded and left, closing the door behind him as he went.

Harry had no doubts about what he was going to do first now that he was alone and had permission to send a letter. He opened Hedwig's cage, and she hooted happily and took flight, landing after a moment on top of the wardrobe. Then he threw open his trunk and pulled out a roll of parchment and the same quill and ink bottle he had been using earlier. He took a seat in the spindly chair, laid the parchment out before him, and began to write:

He signed his name in an almost illegible scrawl and gave the letter to Hedwig. He had thought about asking Ron about legilimency, but he didn't know how to spell it and he figured that he would have a better chance of finding out what it was if he asked Hermione later, anyway.

The view behind the curtains was actually not that bad. The bit of the river that you could see through the window wasn't entirely muddy, and there was only a little rubbish thrown along its banks. It wasn't as bad as the place they had passed on their way to Snape's house, at least.

Harry felt a little lonely as Hedwig soared out into the sky and out of sight. She might have been trapped in a cage all summer, but she had still been there, and for a long time he had thought that she might be his only friend. Still, he was hopeful that she might come back the next day with a letter from Ron, and that made him feel a lot better.

As he turned back from the window, he noticed something that he hadn't before: there was a clock on the wall next to the door, and it read two minutes till seven. With a jolt, he realized that Snape had said dinner was at seven and hurried downstairs. He might not have known where to go after that if Snape hadn't left the door to the dining room open.

Dinner was a very quiet matter, not that either Harry or Severus had expected any different. Both of them were wrapped up in their own thoughts, and neither was about to go out of their way to make conversation with the other without prompting. Harry noticed that Snape's cooking was actually pretty good; Severus noted that the boy still wouldn't eat much, and wondered just how long they had been half starving him.

Harry tried to eat as much as he could without making himself sick, but he was still stuffed long before Severus had finished. So he sat and pushed a piece of carrot around the plate with his fork and tried not to think about the three weeks left before he could go back to Hogwarts or, worse yet, what might happen if he had to go back to the Dursleys' next summer. Uncle Vernon had been bad enough when he had thought that bars and locks could keep his nephew in, and Harry personally didn't want to know what would happen if he tried to keep him in again.

At last, Severus cleared his plate and looked up at Harry, whose fork was still chasing the same piece of food around the plate that he had been five minutes before. "Not hungry, Potter?" he asked, and Harry thought he saw some sort of glint in those black eyes as he shook his head, but it was gone before he could be certain. "Very well, then. I have some work that must be done in the basement; you may remain on this floor or go back to your room. Do try your best not to destroy anything."

There wasn't any venom in his voice now, though, and if anyone but Snape had been speaking, Harry might have thought it was a joke. So as Severus cleared the table with a sweep of his wand and disappeared behind a second door that led off from the kitchen, Harry went back upstairs. There was nothing on the first floor but books, and if Harry wanted to read, he would have read his Hogwarts textbooks so that he could finish his homework.

As it was, though, Harry didn't feel like doing homework. Instead, he moved his clothes from his trunk to the wardrobe, taking care with his Hogwarts uniform even though his robes were too short for him now. Despite the fact that it was barely eight-thirty by the time he finished, Harry was dead tired, and finally he collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep instantly.

*~*~*

It was nearly midnight when Severus finally came back upstairs, his robes smelling faintly of smoke. He was brewing a potion in the basement for the first Potions class of the year. It wasn't the potion that the students were supposed to be making, but an antidote in case they got it wrong. It now had to simmer for eighteen hours, which meant that he could finally get some sleep.

It felt like his head had just hit the pillow when there was a shout from the next room and he sat bolt upright. It took him a split second to realize where it had come from, as it had been years since there had been anyone else sleeping in that house. Then he was on his feet in an instant, picking up his wand from the bedside table and crossing the hall in a flash.

With a wave of Severus's wand, the oil lamp at the head of Harry's bed lit itself, and he relaxed a little when he saw no hint of any intruder in the room. Why had the boy been shouting, then? His question was answered when his black eyes found Harry himself, the bedcovers wrapped around him at least three times, half falling off of the bed, and jerking as if he were being tortured.

Severus blinked once, as if uncertain of what to do, and then approached slowly, as if Harry were a wild animal that might have rabies. There were sweat beads on the boy's face and he was saying something under his breath. He was having a nightmare? What in the world was Severus supposed to do about that?

Deciding that it would be best to try to wake him up, Severus took hold of the boy's shoulder and shook it. That didn't seem to work, though; Harry mumbled something incoherently and then yelled, "Let go!" He threw his arm out, knocking Severus's hand away and hitting the wall hard.

"Potter, wake up," Severus said firmly as Harry threw another blow that grazed the side of his face. "Wake up, Potter. Wake up."

He caught Harry's arm as it swung toward him again, and held it at bay with one hand while he grasped Harry's shoulder with the other. "You're having a nightmare, Potter," he said a little more loudly. "Wake up."

Harry's eyes opened at last, and when he realized that someone actually was standing there with a firm hold on him, Harry jumped and pulled away. However, he only succeeded in tangling himself further in the sheets and almost falling off the other side of the bed.

"Calm down," Severus said quietly, and when Harry heard his voice he did indeed begin to calm down; it reminded him of where he was.

"What.. happened? What are you doing here?"

"Your shouting must have raised everyone within a mile, Potter. What in Merlin's name have you been dreaming about?"

Harry fell silent; he didn't want to tell Snape, though he didn't think it would do any good not to. And indeed he was right; Severus didn't even have to use legilimency, he could read the answer in the boy's eyes. "Your uncle," he said coldly, and there was venom in the last word this time.

After a moment, Harry nodded. "It was like the dream I was having when you came to the Dursleys', only worse. It -- it felt like it was real this time."

Severus's right eyebrow twitched at that last sentence, and his black eyes darted for a split second to the gash on Harry's eyebrow. It didn't take mind reading to know that the dream had seemed more realistic because the boy had thought that he had been sent back to Privet Drive.

After a moment Severus stood, and his jaw was set firmly now. "Go back to sleep, Potter," he said quietly, his tone somehow reassuring. "You won't be going back there again."

Harry didn't know how he ever managed to go back to sleep that night, but somehow he did. Severus blamed sheer exhaustion on the boy's part, as well as his own. Thankfully, no one started screaming in their sleep again, which was a relief for them both. However, when Severus arose at six o'clock to go downstairs, he heard the scratching of a quill from Harry's room.

It surprised him, but he did not stop to knock on the door or to try to guess what Harry was writing. He just continued on downstairs, wondering as he did so about James Potter's son. Severus had no expected the boy to be an early riser, mostly because he knew that James Potter slept away half the Saturdays he had spent at Hogwarts, sleeping until after lunch. But Lily, he reminded himself, had always been up early; often, she had beaten Severus to the Great Hall in the mornings.

Dumbledore was right, little though the Potions Master wanted to admit it: Severus was seeing less and less of James in the boy the longer he was around him. He could see Lily clearly in her son already, but what had Dumbledore said about Lily not being the only one that Potter resembled...?

Severus suppressed a laugh at the thought. Had Dumbledore meant to say that a part of the famous Harry Potter resembled him, Severus Snape!? It was ludicrous! And yet...

Hadn't Severus himself been thinking the same thing, for one brief moment, before Dumbledore and Potter had even come out of the castle? He had thought the idea absurd then, as well... but yet he kept thinking of it anyway, and never more clearly than last night...

At last, he managed to put it out of his mind as he went to check on his simmering potion. By the time he came back upstairs to think about making breakfast, he had forgotten all about Dumbledore's words and any resemblences between himself and Harry Potter.

He forgot about it until he went to call the boy down to eat, anyway. When Severus knocked on the door and opened it, he found Harry sitting cross-legged on the bed with his homework. It wasn't this fact that bothered, however; it was that the boy was dressed in an oversize blue sweater and jeans that looked like he could have fit into twice. Severus had a sudden image of a pallid boy with long, greasy black hair wearing a coat of his father's and a dirty smock, lying on the bed in the room across the hall and shooting down flies with his wand. Then he became irritated with himself when he realized it.

Harry ate a little more this time, but still not enough for Severus's liking. Again, it made him inexplicably angry, though of course he wouldn't admit it even to himself. He would barely admit that he could see Lily in her son, but he certainly would not say the same thing about himself.

While Severus was busy contemplating eating habits, Harry ate as much as he could, thinking about the night before. Snape had seemed almost.. concerned. But was that possible? Snape hated him! Then again.. Dumbledore had said that Snape had hated James, not Harry.. he had said that Snape would realize that... Could it be true? Or was Harry imagining things?

The next thing he knew, Snape was standing up to retrieve the Daily Prophet from a tawny owl who was pecking on the window. Harry looked down at his hands again, wishing that he could go back upstairs, or that Snape would at least say something. It was getting a little unnerving, just sitting there in silence, mostly because it reminded him of meals with the Dursleys. After Hagrid had given him his letter, they never talked to him if they could help it.

At last, the meal was over and Harry sought refuge in his room while Severus sat down in the old armchair to read the paper. There was nothing spectacular in it, and most of it he already knew. Then his forehead creased as he frowned at a particular article; it was about Dumbledore, but no one was supposed to know about what it said. How could Rita Skeeter have found out?

He didn't have long to ponder it, however, because just then there was a loud crash from upstairs and he was on his feet at once. The Prophet fell to the ground, unnoticed, as Severus disappeared upstairs. Was it just another false alarm? Or had the owl been intercepted, and someone knew where Potter was?

The door to Harry's room flew open as Severus reached the top of the stairs, and he was surprised to see a huge, hardback book -- One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi -- flying into the hall. Then, as he reached the doorway, Severus had to duck to avoid being hit in the head by a copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration; then he took in the room with a glance. The contents of Harry's trunk had been dumped all over the floor -- that must have been the crashing sound Severus had heard -- and Harry himself was searching through the pile frantically, throwing discarded items over his shoulder and to the sides as he went.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing!?" Severus demanded, utterly dumbfounded.

"I can't find -- but it has to be here --"

Harry continued to rummage through the contents of his trunk, his eyes wide, and at last Severus had to use a Freezing Charm on a brass telescope that came pelting for his face. Grasping the object out of the air, he crossed the room, dodging Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them as he did so.

"Stop this before you break something," Severus said, watching as a copy of Magical Theory flew across the room and hit a wall. "What can you not find?"

"Several things," Harry said, continuing to sift through the pile, though slightly less violently now. "Phials -- scales --"

"Those can be easily replaced," Severus said calmly, as if trying to reassure Harry.

"Yes -- but, that's not all!" Harry stood up to face Snape, looking positively frantic. "My wand's missing!"

Dead silence followed, during which the eyes of both wizards flickered to the pile of things in the floor. "You have lost your wand?" said Severus at last, as if he thought he might have heard wrong.

"I didn't lose it," Harry objected. "I put it in my cauldron, so I could find it easily -- because it was all that was in there except my potions things -- but it's gone!"

Severus didn't say anything, but glanced around for the cauldron; it was leaning haphazardly against a wall, looking as if it might fall over at any point. He examined it, but there was nothing inside but fragments of a few potions ingredients that had escaped from their containers. He turned back to Harry, who looked very white.

"They're not here," Harry said, looking half miserable and half frightened now that the manic look was gone from his face. "But if they're not -- they must be -- but the Dursleys couldn't have --"

Snape looked exceedingly angry again, and Harry fell silent beneath his gaze. But the Potions Master didn't appear to be angry with Harry, because just then he walked furiously toward the door, and Harry was sure he heard him say as he left, "Filthy, thieving Muggle..."

Harry stood, petrified, for a brief moment before tearing out of the room after him. He found the professor, still looking incensed, retrieving his traveling cloak off a peg and marching out of the front door as if ready to go to war. Harry had never seen him this angry before; it was rather frightening.

Severus had just selected a rusty old tin can from the rubbish that littered the side of the river and had his wand pointed at it when Harry came out the door. He knew immediately what Snape was doing; hadn't he already seen him do it twice? Severus could not hear any outside noises for the pounding in his ears, but as he reached for the Portkey, he felt something grab onto his robes, saw another hand reach out and touch the tin can at exactly the same moment...

When Severus's feet hit the ground, someone stumbled into him, nearly knocking him headfirst into a hedge. He regained his balance and turned to face Harry Potter, a frown already on his face.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he demanded, the look in his black eyes dangerous.

"I'm keeping you from going off and getting in a load of trouble," Harry answered. "You're acting like you've gone mad, don't you see that?"

Severus met his determined gaze and realized once again how very much like Lily the boy was. The words and the look in those green eyes were just like Lily's; she had even fixed him with that same look before. This realization didn't really sate his anger, it just sent a bolt of regret through him; regret which overwhelmed the anger, at least for the moment.

"Maybe I have," Snape said, and Harry stared at him. There was a pause, and then Severus said in a level voice, "You must go back."

"And let you go turn the Dursleys into toads or something? Yeah, right!"

"It would be no less than they deserve," Snape said in a low voice. Another pause, and then: "You must go back, Harry."

Harry froze; had he just heard what he thought he had heard? "Did you -- did you just call me Harry?" he asked incredulously, staring at Snape as if the man had just announced that he was from another planet.

Severus blinked. He hadn't, had he?

"You did -- I know you did!"

Severus remained silent; Harry remained open-mouthed, staring at him. At last, Severus said, "It doesn't matter. You can't go back there."

This only made Harry stare more. Was Snape concerned about him!?

"I'll send you back myself if you don't agree, Potter."

"No," Harry said suddenly, determination in his voice. "If you're going back, I'm going with you."

There was a pause. "If you go back, they may not let you leave again."

"They're Muggles! What are they going to do, write to Hogwarts and tell Professor Dumbledore not to accept me back?"

"They might. I doubt that would dissuade the headmaster, however; he is rather determined that you get in your full education."

"Then it's settled; I'm going. You said yourself that I won't go back to stay there. And I won't, I'll run away and live as a Muggle before I let him lock me up somewhere again."

Severus surveyed the boy; he had his mother's stubbornness, Snape had to give him that. Still, he didn't like the idea of Potter going back there, even for a few minutes, even if Severus was there, as well. It could hardly be helped now, though. What could he do, take the boy back and Stun him to keep him from coming along?

"All right," Severus said at last, his voice grim. "But you will do exactly as I tell you, and you will not leave my sight. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

And so the two of them set off, Severus still fuming and Harry unsure of exactly what he felt, aside from uneasy.

*~*~*

Petunia Dursley received quite a shock when she answered the knock on her front door and found a man dressed in black robes standing before her. In fact, she was so surprised that she seemed too busy glancing from his cloak to the wand in his hand to spare the time it would take to look at his face.

"I'm sorry -- er, what are you doing here?" she asked uncomfortably. Then, recovering her distaste for wizards with her bad temper, she added nastily, "If you're here about my nephew, you may as well clear off. He's gone, found his bedroom empty when we got up yesterday."

"I know that quite well," Severus said silkily, "as I am the one who took him from that prison cell you call a bedroom."

Petunia looked up suddenly when he spoke, and her beady eyes narrowed. "I know you," she said softly, looking quite angry now. "You were that Snape boy who lived on Spinner's End!"

"What!?" Harry asked loudly, stepping out from behind Snape so that he could stare at him better. Petunia jumped, as she obviously had not expected to see Harry, as well.

"Brought him back, have you?" she asked Severus viciously. "You expect us to take him back, even now?"

"I expect nothing of the sort from the likes of you," Severus said in a lethal hiss, sounding a thousand times more dangerous than he had earlier and apparently not realizing that Harry was still staring at him. "We have returned for the items which you took from this boy's trunk."

"Accusing me of being a thief, now!?" Petunia shrieked. "Why don't you get off my property!?"

"Not until his things are returned."

"Who is it, Petunia?" called a voice from the sitting room, and as Vernon Dursley appeared, his face turned red with anger. "What are you doing here?" he asked, looking at Harry.

Harry's gaze shifted from Snape at last, landing on Uncle Vernon warily. Severus noticed this, and he spoke up instead: "We are here for Harry Potter's things, which you took out of his trunk."

"We did nothing of the sort," Vernon snorted, but Snape narrowed his eyes and looked deadly.

"Don't lie to me," he hissed, looking very much as if he would like nothing more than to curse the man who stood in front of him. "You will tell me where they are, or I will blow your house apart until I find them."

It was quite obviously a bluff, Harry knew, but apparently Uncle Vernon didn't. The Muggle man's face lost all its color and he stammered, "You -- you wouldn't --"

"Harry Potter may not be able to use magic outside of school, but I am no underage wizard. I expect that any magic I might perform could easily be written off as a gas explosion, or something similar."

Harry didn't know how Snape knew about gas explosions, but he didn't ask. Uncle Vernon's face was fading quickly to gray, just like it had the day he had opened Harry's Hogwarts letter, and he pulled his wife out of the way. "Come, Petunia -- let them in --"

Severus walked through the doorway, but stopped in front of Vernon. "Where are his things?" he asked coldly, his black eyes staring into the other man's.

"In -- in the spare room," Vernon sputtered.

"Why did you take them?"

"So that the little freak couldn't run off, of course!"

"We'll see about that," Severus said, sneering. He swept past the Dursleys, Harry right behind him, and into the living room. Dudley was there, watching television; but at the sight of Harry and another man who was quite obviously a wizard, he let out a sort of squeal and ran off toward the kitchen.

"Where is this spare room?" Snape inquired, and Harry showed him the way. The place was done out in pink, for Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, but at first glance there was no sign of Harry's things. Then he opened the wardrobe and there they were, piled in a dark corner.

"Very original place to hide something," Harry muttered, thinking of his father's Invisibility Cloak, which he had hidden in his wardrobe, and made a mental note to move it as soon as he got back.

"Indeed," Severus agreed darkly. "We should go; I don't think either of us enjoy being in this house any longer than is necessary."

The first thing they saw upon coming down the stairs was Vernon and Petunia Dursley, standing very close to each other and looking at the pair of them as if they thought they were going to steal everything in the house. "Good, you have your precious things," Vernon said loudly. "Why don't you get out of my house now?"

"Gladly," Severus said coldly, both his voice and his dark eyes full of venom. Then he pulled a scrap of ordinary parchment from inside his robes, set it on the kitchen table, and pointed his wand at it. Harry came to stand next to him, more than ready to take the Portkey out of Privet Drive.

Severus had already cast Portus and was on the point of instructing Harry to reach for the Portkey when Petunia said, "Go back to your world of freaks and stay there! And then when you've gone the same way as my wretched sister, tell her that I warned her about those wizarding types!"

Sparks shot from the end of Harry's wand, and Severus looked up, a look on his face that plainly wished the woman a slow and painful death. With one swift movement, he grabbed Harry's arm and shoved the boy's hand down onto the Portkey. He released Harry's arm just in time, so that only Harry was taken away in a whirl of color, leaving Severus Snape in the Dursleys' kitchen.

"What did you just say?" he asked in a lethal voice, glaring at Petunia Dursley. "What did you just say about Lily Evans?"

"That she was a fool and a freak who should have listened to what I told her!" Petunia shrieked, though she looked positively terrified just the same.

"Never call her a wretch in front of me," Severus hissed, his wand pointed at a spot directly between Petunia's eyes. "Never. How dare you insult her, mistreat her only son after she died to save him, and then think you can get away with saying whatever you want about her!"

"Now, see here," Vernon began, gathering his courage, but Severus shifted both his eyes and his wand toward the man and suddenly ropes sprang out of the wand tip, binding his legs, arms, and mouth. Vernon Dursley promptly fell over, unable to hold up his own great weight, and Petunia screamed but didn't move.

"I know what was in the letter that Dumbledore left you," Severus went on as if nothing had happened, his wand now pointed at Petunia again. "I know that he left him here so that you could raise him, treat him like your own son. But you didn't do that. You treated him like vermin, when you're really the rat, aren't you, Petunia?"

She made a muffled sound and suddenly something hit Severus in the back, causing him to stagger forward. He turned on his heel to face Dudley Dursley, who had both his fists raised but looked absolutely petrified because his initial attack had not worked properly. Severus barely even had to think the spell this time, it was as if the ropes sprang forward of their own accord.

"Dudders!" Petunia cried, taking a step toward him; but Severus whirled to face her again, his wand again pointed at what seemed to be its favorite spot, right between Petunia Dursley's eyes.

"You will never have a chance to hurt that boy again, any of you. And if I ever hear that you said another word against Lily Evans.. I'll be back."

And with that he turned on the spot and was gone with a loud crack.

Harry had barely realized what Snape had done when there was a jerk behind his navel and he was thrown forward in a swirl of color and a sound like rushing wind. His feet hit the ground hard and, as he had not even begun to brace himself for it since he didn't know what was coming, he fell forward and actually flipped over. He ended up landing on his back, the breath knocked out of him.

As soon as he had managed to get a little air back in his lungs, he stood up quickly and looked around. He was right in front of Snape's house, but there was no sign of the Potions master anywhere. After a moment, he knew without a doubt that Snape had not come with him. Really, he had known it from the moment that his hand hit the Portkey; but that didn't mean he hadn't hoped otherwise.

"You idiot!" Harry yelled to the sky. "What are you gonna do!? You're gonna get your wand snapped in half, you're gonna get fired, you're gonna get chucked in jail, if wizards even have them..."

He groaned, exasperated, and tried not to imagine what Snape might be doing to the Dursleys. Poisoning them, probably, that would be right up his alley. Then Harry shook his head and tried to think. Could he get back somehow? He couldn't work Portkeys, and he had no idea where he was, so that didn't seem like a very likely idea. So was he just supposed to sit here?

Infuriated, he kicked a rusted old pot that lay nearby. Unfortunately, it was half buried in mud and a lot heavier than it looked, so it caused Harry to limp around with what felt like a broken toe for a moment. Then suddenly there was a familiar screech overhead, and he looked up, his heart pounding. It was Hedwig! She must have flown back double speed to get here already; or maybe this place was just closer to Ron's, he had no idea.

She landed gently on his shoulder and offered her leg, which had a letter tied to it. "Thanks, Hedwig," Harry told her, stroking her back as he removed the letter. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any food for you right now. There's fresh water in your cage, though," he added encouragingly.

Hedwig hooted thankfully and nipped him on the ear before taking off again. Grudgingly, Harry decided that he might as well go inside and wait, since there wasn't anything that he could do, as much as he hated to admit it. He unrolled the parchment as he was walking back into the house and sat down on the threadbare old sofa to read it.

Harry,

You're at SNAPE'S? How can you be at Snape's? I didn't even think he had a house, I thought he lived in the dungeons or something. How could Dumbledore send you with SNAPE? Doesn't he know how much Snape hates you?

Is there any way they would let you come here? I've already asked you to come stay about a dozen times, but I guess now I know why you didn't answer.

Why would there be a house elf in your house? It's a Muggle house! House elves only live with wizards. Really old, really rich wizarding families, at that. Mum always wishes we had a house elf, but we just have a lousy ghoul in the attic and a load of gnomes in the garden.

So this house elf didn't want you to go back to Hogwarts? Maybe someone sent him to stop you, do you think? I know Malfoy has an old family manor. You think he could have a house elf? He would think it was funny to try to stop you from going to Hogwarts.

We all knew about the warning from the Ministry, Dad works there. Percy thought you'd gone bonkers, and Fred and George said you had a lot of guts to do something like that. I didn't think you would have done something so stupid, so now I guess that makes sense anyway.

It's a good thing we got your letter, Fred and George were wanting to take Dad's car and come get you. Man, would we have looked stupid if we had gone all the way to Surrey for nothing.

You'd better write Hermione soon, she was going mad with worry the last time I heard from her. I would send her a letter, but Errol would never make it all the way to France again and Hermione is on holiday there. (Errol is our family owl, by the way. He's old and useless, he can barely make deliveries anymore.)

And you'd better write me back, too. If you don't, I'll send Errol and Fred and George can track him in the car and we'll come get you that way.

Ron

Harry shook his head as he finished reading the letter. Somehow he had predicted Ron's reaction even before he had sent the letter, but that didn't make it any less amusing now. It was the fact that Snape was probably off torturing the Dursleys that kept him from laughing.

It was just as he looked up from Ron's letter that he saw a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on the floor. Harry didn't know why it was there, especially since Snape was usually quite neat. "Wonder if there's anything interesting going on in the wizarding world?" he murmured, picking it up. He glanced over the front-page headlines and one of them immediately caught his eye.

"Dumbledore was in Albania?" he asked of no one in particular, staring at the story as if expecting it to speak aloud and answer him.

Albus Dumbledore, renowned headmaster of Hogwarts School

of Witchcraft and Wizardry, seems to have taken a liking to

the forests of Albania, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspon-

dent. He returned from a week-long holiday to these woods

yesterday (his third this summer) and reports of trouble follow.

It seems that a small wizarding village on the outskirts of this

particular forest had been plagued by a series of werewolf at-

tacks -- but if they expected our famed headmaster to assist,

they were sadly mistaken. Midge Blackwell, a wizard who often

enters the forest to scavenge for edible mushrooms, tells this

story: "Well, I was going into the woods day before yesterday,

and I seen that tall wizard with the silver hair -- Dumberbore,

did you call him? -- walking on the path ahead of me. I didn't

know who he was, see, but it's not smart to talk to strange

folk in them woods, so I didn't let him know I was there. I just

walked behind him a little ways, and afore long, he went off

the path into the forest, just as quick as you please! I didn't

know what he was up to, but I wasn't going to let him walk

off and cause all kinds of mischief, as strangers are prone to

do, so I went off after him. Real quiet like, I was, so that he

wouldn't know I was there and turn and curse me or any-

thing. So I followed him, I did, for a long stretch of time and

forest, and finally he stopped in this one clearing where there

was a little pool. There's all sorts of things what live in them

pools in that forest, so I didn't go very close, just kept close

enough to keep this fellow in sight. Then wouldn't you know

it, but here comes that werewolf what was coming after the

villagers!

"Well, I thought maybe he might have the sense to get rid of

the beast for us, but he just pointed his wand at it and did

some sort of spell -- turned him back to a man, he did -- and

then what did he do? He left him there, next to that pool, and

just walked off like nothing had happened! And that werewolf

man got up and he ran off like his cloak was on fire, and next

thing you know, we got werewolf attacks in the village again!"

The story was continued on page four, but Harry didn't turn there; he put the paper on the spindly table and thought about what he had read. He found it all rather hard to believe. Anyway, he didn't see how a werewolf that had been transformed back into a man could attack anyone, at least not until the next full moon. Or did they even change back at the next full moon if that spell was used on them? Harry wasn't sure, but he thought they must, or else all the werewolves in the world would have had it used on them and there wouldn't be any left.

That did explain where Dumbledore had been, though. It made sense now, why Dumbledore hadn't sent Snape after him sooner. He had only just realized what had happened. But why would he have been in Albania, anyway? And why did he want to send Snape after him a whole week after the spell had been cast? Harry still didn't understand that part. Maybe Dumbledore or Snape could explain it later.

As if on cue, there was a loud crack and Severus Snape reappeared, his face still contorted with rage. Harry stood up, dropping Ron's letter, and was taken aback; Snape looked even angrier than he had before. There was a long silence, during which Severus continued to stand, staring at the wall, with his fists still clenched and shaking. He didn't even seem to realize that Harry was there.

"You sent me back alone," Harry said at last, doing his best to keep his voice level. He didn't think it would be a good idea to sound like he was accusing Snape of anything -- yet.

"Yes," Severus said, his voice sharp.

"Why?"

"That is none of your concern."

"It is if you've done something to the Dursleys," Harry said, walking over to stand in front of Snape and meeting his gaze. "What did you do?"

Severus continued to stare at the wall until something moved in front of him. His eyes met another pair -- and for one wild moment he half expected to see Lily standing there in front of him. Then he took in the rest of the face and remembered: Lily was gone, and it was her son who stood before him.. Lily's son, who had those same vivid eyes...

"S -- Professor Snape? Sir?"

Severus blinked and seemed to rediscover his ability to speak. "Nothing that will cause any lasting harm -- unfortunately."

For some strange reason, Harry had to fight back an urge to laugh. "Lasting harm?" he asked warily.

"Perhaps they might be a little more reluctant to insult Lily Evans after this."

Harry paused, looking at Snape carefully. "What do you mean?" he asked at last.

"Precisely what I said, Potter."

Again, Harry just continued to look at him. This didn't make any sense. "Why would you do that?" he asked quietly, watching Snape's eyes. "Why would you defend my mum like that? I thought you hated her."

Anger surged through Severus at this. "I do not hate Lily Evans. I never did. She --" He paused, and Harry noticed that there was something like pain in his eyes.

"What is it?" Harry asked slowly. "Did you -- did you know my mum?"

Severus was silent. At once, he wanted to tell the boy everything, and to take the information with him to the grave. Then again, even if he didn't tell the boy, there were others who could. Dumbledore, for one, but he had given his word... But nonetheless...

"Yes," he said at last. "I knew Lily Evans."

"Is that how Aunt Petunia knew you?"

"Presumably. I must admit, I would have thought that she had forgotten me by now."

"So does that mean -- you knew my mum before she went to Hogwarts? Before Aunt Petunia got so angry with her?"

Severus paused again, but after a moment he answered, "Yes."

"But then -- you were her friend!?" Harry asked incredulously. "How come no one ever told me!?"

Severus sighed and shook his head. Then he sat down in the old armchair and stared at the floor for a moment before saying quietly, "Come.. sit down."

He gestured toward the sofa and Harry sat, still looking puzzled. What was going on around here? First Snape was taking him from the Dursleys, then telling Dumbledore that he shouldn't be sent back, and now it seemed that, all along, he had known Harry's mother!?

Severus turned his wand over and over in his hand, thinking. The boy had already pieced together part of the story, he had to tell him -- but how to go about it? He had never told anyone.. anyone, save Dumbledore...

Harry was quiet, and for once, he waited without pressing for speech. If Snape was going to tell him, he would, and it wouldn't help to try to make him talk. If anything, it would make him decide not to, and Harry wanted to know the story behind what was happening now.

At last, Severus looked up and met Harry's eyes. He had to make himself see Harry behind them instead of Lily, because it was Lily whom he most wanted to see.

"When I was a young boy, I thought I was the only wizard in this area. Then, when I was around nine or so, I discovered that I was wrong -- there was a girl of just my age, living not far away, who was unmistakably a witch. That is, it was unmistakable to me; she had no idea what she was.

"It took me a while to finally speak to her and, at first, she didn't take very kindly to being told that she was a witch. She warmed up to the idea, though, and pretty soon we were both looking forward to Hogwarts. Her sister, Petunia, was very jealous; she wanted to go, too, and she even wrote to Professor Dumbledore. He couldn't let her in, though; she was a Muggle, not a witch, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"It certainly didn't improve after the two of us went to Hogwarts. In fact, she became much worse, didn't even want to be in the same room with her own sister. Lily was very sorry about it." By the way he said this, Harry could tell that Snape hadn't been.

"Then she was Sorted into Gryffindor," Severus said regretfuly. "I went to Slytherin. For a while, we were still friends; but it became strained very quickly, even if we couldn't -- or didn't want to -- see it then."

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and emotions, and at last went on: "Lily was my best friend -- my only real friend -- for a long time. Then one day in our fifth year, I said something stupid.. and she never forgave me.

"She went off and married James Potter, and she had you, and I knew I had lost her. Then..."

His voice drifted off, and Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's why you hated my dad, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "Because he fancied my mum." He paused and then added even more softly, "And you loved her."

Severus closed his eyes and nodded. He wasn't going to tell the boy that James Potter was the one who had put him in that situation; Harry didn't need to know that. In fact, it was a mark of how much he had begun to see Lily in the boy that he didn't want to tell him. A year before, he would have delighted in telling Harry Potter what a spoiled bully James had been at fifteen; but such was not the case now.

"I was lost without Lily," Severus went on at last, this time without opening his eyes. "I fell deeper into the Dark Arts without her there to talk sense to me. I.. became a Death Eater."

"A what?" Harry asked, puzzled.

His black eyes opened incredulously as another wave of anger crashed over Severus, but he hid it and explained in a level voice, "Death Eaters were the Dark Lord's most trusted followers. His inner circle, so to speak. There were many of us then, but few of them were as stupid as I."

Harry was suddenly feeling very sorry for Snape. How could he not have known that something like this had happened? There had to be a reason that Snape hated his father so much, and now him. Or did Snape hate Harry now? He certainly wasn't talking like he did, and he didn't have that old look of loathing in his eyes...

"I betrayed her," Severus said quietly, as if he could barely believe the words. "I handed the Dark Lord the information that made him go after her family -- after you. I begged him to spare her. I went to Dumbledore, I told him everything and asked him to protect the Potters. He tried.. but he failed."

Harry shook his head as if to clear it, and looked back at Snape dubiously. He didn't know what to say, but he felt as if he should say something. Finally he settled on, "You know.. if you didn't know what would happen, you didn't betray anyone."

Severus laughed humorlessly and stared at Harry as if he had never seen anything quite like him. "Didn't betray anyone? I betrayed everyone. The entire wizarding world. But Lily -- and you -- most especially."

Harry didn't know what to think anymore. This wasn't anything like what he had expected. Then again, what had he expected? He hadn't even known what to expect when he had asked. But this definitely wouldn't have been on the list of the top 100 things he had ever expected to hear from Severus Snape.

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Severus suddenly stood up and turned away, a strange look on his face. "I should check on an antidote that's brewing in the basement," he said. "We can talk later, Harry."

Then he started for the kitchen door, and Harry said suddenly, "You just did it again! You called me Harry!"

Severus paused with his hand on the doorknob. He seemed to consider this statement before saying slowly, "So I did." Then he was gone and the door snapped shut behind him.

*~*~*

It was only after Harry was upstairs again, trying to think of what to say to Hermione, when he remembered about Dumbledore and Albania. He had meant to ask Snape about it, but had forgotten. Would Hermione know anything? It was worth a try, so he picked up his quill, dipped it in his scarlet ink, and began to write.

Hermione,

I've already written Ron to tell him, but guess where I am? Snape's house! It's a really long story, but here goes.

I didn't get anyone's letters for ages after I came back to Privet Drive, and I thought no one had sent any. Then on my birthday, this weird creature showed up that called itself a house elf. (His name was Dobby, I think.) He had been nicking all my letters! He kept trying to convince me not to go back to Hogwarts, but of course I wouldn't agree. Then he levitated a pudding and dropped it on top of my aunt and uncle's dinner guests! I didn't even do it, but I still got a warning from the Ministry of Magic.

Well, Uncle Vernon read the letter first, and I'm sure you can guess that he found the fact that I'm not allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts VERY interesting. He locked me in Dudley's second bedroom and put bars on the windows. He said he wouldn't let me go back to Hogwarts, and if I tried to magic myself out, I would be expelled.

Then Snape showed up in the middle of the night a week later. Dumbledore had sent him, and when he found out that I was locked in, I think he got angry. He brought me back here, and he says they're not going to let me go back to the Dursleys. I don't know whether that means that I'm going to stay here or go somewhere else, but it can't be as bad as the Dursleys' so I'm not complaining.

Do you know if there's anything special about Albania? I was reading the Daily Prophet today and it says Dumbledore was there last week. That must be why he didn't know about the house elf's magic until yesterday, and why Snape didn't show up till then. So why would he have been there, do you know? I don't know anyone else to ask except Snape, but I don't think I should try to ask him just now.

Anyway, I hope you're having a good time in France.

Harry

Harry looked at it. He hadn't said anything about legilimency.. but he still didn't know how to spell that, and it wasn't at the top of his priority list at the moment. He hadn't said anything about his mother and Snape, either, mostly because he didn't even know whether he wanted to tell Hermione yet. He would probably tell Ron and Hermione the next time he saw them in person, he didn't fancy telling someone that with an owl.

Hedwig was asleep in her cage, her head under her wing. Harry watched her for a moment before he folded the letter and put it down on the desk. He would give it to her later; she deserved a good long rest before attempting a flight all the way to France.

So Harry lay down on his bed, thinking. There were so many things that had happened, and that he had found out, that it was hard to believe it wasn't even lunch time yet. There were a lot of things that he still had to try to figure out. He wasn't even sure what he felt about this connection between Snape and his mother, even if it had been years before he was born. It definitely still affected Snape, he thought as he bit his lip, so that obviously meant that it affected Harry, as well.

Harry lay there, thinking, for a long time. He knew Snape wasn't lying -- the cold Head of Slytherin would never show that much emotion in a lie -- but part of him wanted to believe it was. It did explain a lot, pretty much everything that Harry had wondered about for the past year; but it brought up more questions, more thoughts and feelings, and Harry was completely lost in them. He didn't know what to think or to feel because there were so many conflicting thoughts and feelings.

What exactly should he be feeling, anyway? He had just assumed that his parents had always loved each other. If that wasn't true, then what? His parents were still his parents, nothing Snape said could change that; but yet it made Harry think differently. Had his mother really come that close to falling in love with Snape, instead of James Potter? If she had really stuck by him until fifth year, they had to have been good friends at the least. Harry had always thought that Lily would have disliked Snape as much as Dumbledore said James had. Was it possible Snape had been lying?

And yet, Snape's story even explained Aunt Petunia. If she had been jealous that Lily was a witch, it would explain why she had taken it out on Harry all those years. All the pieces seemed to fit. So why was Harry so reluctant to believe Snape's story? Was it just because he didn't want to believe that it could be possible?

As Harry was trying to decipher his thoughts, Severus was downstairs attempting the exact same thing. He was also preparing lunch, but his head wasn't there. Twice, he almost sliced a potholder instead of a slice of bread with the knife he had charmed.

Severus, however, was not debating whether this story was true or not, because he knew it was. He was trying to understand what had made him tell it just then; he certainly hadn't intended to. It was as if, as the Muggles put it, it just slipped out. But long hidden secrets did not just slip out, particularly from the mind or mouth of Severus Snape.

It must have been because he saw Lily in the boy, Severus decided. That was the only explanation. He had never been able to say no to Lily, and so while he had been thinking of Lily and looking into those eyes that were so like hers, he hadn't been able to refuse that knowledge to Harry, either. At least, that was the only possibility he could see.

Before he even realized it, lunch was ready and laid out on the table. It was strange that time seemed to move quickly when one was lost in thought. Maybe it was because time seemed to be of no consequence when one was thinking of the past.

Severus barely realized what he was doing as he walked through the house and up the hidden stairs. However, he paused before the door to Harry's room. He didn't know what the boy's reaction would be, now that he had been given enough time to take it in. Would he even believe it?

There was a knock on the door and Harry looked over toward the door. It didn't open, and his eyebrows twitched upward slightly. "Er.. hello?"

Now the door swung open, and Snape stood framed in the doorway. He did not enter the room, just stood there and said, "Lunch is ready downstairs, Harry."

Harry stared. "What?" he asked incredulously, looking at Snape as if he had never seen anything quite like him.

"I said that lunch is waiting in the kitchen."

Still, Harry didn't seem to register what had been said. He just stared at the black-robed figure standing in the doorway and blinked once, as if in surprise. At last, he seemed to find his voice and said in amazement, "You knocked on the door. Then you didn't come in until I answered. And you called me Harry."

Now it was Severus's turn to pause, astounded. He hadn't even realized that he had done any of that aside from knocking on the door. Yet now he realized that he had, even though he hadn't thought anything of it at the time. Was seeing Lily in the boy really changing Severus's perception of him so much that he was beginning to treat him differently, as well?

"Perhaps I did," he said at last, in a rather quieter voice than usual. Then he regained his composure and went on in his normal brisk tones, "However, that matter is of no consequence. I came to inform you that lunch is ready."

This time, Harry shook his head. "I.. don't want anything to eat."

Severus paused. "You should eat," he said quietly. "It isn't good for you to skip meals when you already haven't been eating properly at the hands of that filth."

Then, as much to his surprise as to Snape's, Harry smiled. Snape was being protective! He hadn't really stopped to realize that earlier, though he didn't know now how he could have missed it. Somehow it was very amusing, now that the initial shock of being taken away from the Dursleys and brought here had worn off.

"No, thanks," Harry answered. "I couldn't eat if I wanted to. And I don't want to."

There was another pause, and Severus nodded. "All right," he said slowly. "But you will be expected to eat dinner, Harry."

Harry agreed, and Severus left. This time he was very aware of each step as he went down them, of his black robes billowing behind him, of the thin beams of light filtering through the cracks around the door ahead of him. Then, when he opened the door, there was the smell of food wafting in from the kitchen on the draft that had always run through the first floor. It was as if his senses were trying to make up for the last hour or so, when he hadn't noticed anything around him.

For some reason, Severus left Harry's share on the table until after he finished. Maybe he thought the boy would change his mind, or maybe it would just be easier to clear everything at one time. He debated bringing a plate up to Harry, but decided against it. Severus didn't want to give the boy a reason to hide up in the room for the rest of the summer should he decide that he would rather avoid the Potions Master.

Harry didn't resist, though, when Severus came five hours later to bring him down for supper. He seemed to have become even quieter while he was upstairs alone, and Severus wasn't sure what that meant. He doubted that it could be a good thing, at any rate.

Then, a few minutes after the two of them sat down to dinner, Harry suddenly spoke up.

"Professor Snape? Can I -- can I ask you something? Sir?"

Severus's right eyebrow raised, but his voice was inscrutable as he said, "You may."

Harry looked down, ran his tongue over his dry lips, and at last took a deep breath. It was obvious that he either didn't know what to say or how to say whatever it was that he wanted to communicate.

"I really don't know.. what you expect me to think about all this," he said at last, staring at the table as he was seemingly unable to look at Severus. "I don't know what I should think. It took me this long to try to figure out what I do think, and I still don't think I really know yet."

Severus just watched him; he wasn't about to interrupt or try to tell Harry what to think. He wanted to know what was going through the twelve-year-old's mind. Severus was trying to catch the boy's eye, but he would not look up.

"I don't understand why no one told me all this before. It makes me a little angry that people are hiding things from me again. I got enough of that in eleven years with the Dursleys to last me a lifetime, but it doesn't look like people are going to stop any time soon.

"I don't know what I feel about you and my mother. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you told me.. but it's just so confusing. I always thought.. everyone always acted like my parents were always..." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. I just don't know."

Severus was silent. Harry was both confusing him and giving him greater insight into the boy's thinking, but he had yet to hear a question. However, as he watched the boy, he suddenly looked up; and Severus was startled to see that there were streaks on Harry's face, leading down from those vivid green eyes.

"If you're telling me all this," Harry said through clenched teeth, "what does it mean? Are you being civil toward me because of all this? Are you going to start hating me again as soon as you forget about it? And if you're not sending me back to the Dursleys, what is going to happen?"

Suddenly Severus stood straight up, knocking his chair backward, and Harry's head jerked up so that his eyes stayed on the Potions Master. Severus, however, did not notice; he had turned and was gazing out of the kitchen window, toward the rubbish-strewn river.

Was the boy expecting.. comfort? He seemed to be uncertain about a lot of things, and Severus didn't have answers for all of those questions. Really, he barely had answers at all. How was he supposed to answer questions if he needed them answered himself? Yet, he had to say something. It was his fault that Harry was so worried and confused in the first place.

Severus took a deep breath and turned around. When he did, he nearly jumped; but he managed to limit his reaction to a widening of the eyes. Harry was now standing on the side of the table Severus had just vacated. The boy looked astounded at his own daring, but no less confused than he had a moment earlier.

"You're not going to answer me, are you?" Harry asked.

"I never said that," Severus answered quietly. "But neither did I say that I knew all the answers."

"So then you're not going to answer my questions."

"I cannot answer all of them. I did not say that I wouldn't try."

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. Snape was beginning to sound a little annoyed, and that didn't bode well.

Severus could see something akin to fear in Harry's eyes, and the Potions Master didn't like it one bit. He knew he had betrayed a hint of impatience in his voice, and he was angry with himself for that. This time, though, he was careful to keep his voice level.

"Listen to me, Harry," Severus said quietly, making a point of maintaining eye contact as he spoke. "I'm not going to hurt you. I swear it." He paused for a moment, then put a hand on Harry's shoulder as if for reassurance. "Do you believe me?"

Harry was completely stunned, both by Snape's declaration and the fact that he had put a hand on Harry's shoulder. That certainly didn't seem like the Snape that Harry knew. At least, the one he thought he knew. Was it possible that he had been wrong? For a long moment, he just stared at Snape; then, at last, he nodded.

"Why do you think I didn't want you to go back to your aunt and uncle, Harry?" Severus asked earnestly. "Why else would I have taken you out of that place? I know what they were doing. No one deserves it."

Harry looked surprised. "I -- but -- what do you mean?" he stammered.

"Precisely what I said. Harry, do you really believe that I would stop those Muggle fools from throwing you around and half starving you to death just to bring you here and mistreat you myself?"

For a moment, Harry seemed to survey Snape, as if trying to decide what to think. Then at last Harry said softly, "No. No, I don't think you would." He paused for a second, as if trying to decide if he wanted to say something else, before at last he asked, "How.. do you know?" He already knew the answer, but he wanted to know if Snape would try to lie to him.

Severus was silent for a few seconds, during which he gazed at Harry as if sizing him up. "There are many areas of magic that you have not learned of yet," he said at last. "Some of them, you might already know if those Muggles hadn't kept the truth from you for so long. Not everything, however; and many things you would do better not to know.. until you are ready."

"So you used some kind of magic on me?" Harry asked.

Maybe he was wrong, but he thought he saw a hint of amusement in Snape's black eyes. That certainly wasn't anything that Harry had ever seen before, and so he had decided that he must have imagined it when Snape asked wryly, "Does your inquisitiveness know no bounds?"

Harry stared. "Did you just make a joke?" he asked incredulously.

Severus crossed his arms and inquired, "Which question would you prefer that I answered? Would you rather know if I made a joke or would you prefer that I answered what I could of your original questions?"

"What I asked you before," Harry answered immediately, looking quite somber again.

Severus frowned slightly and said, "First you must understand that I cannot answer all of your questions. I can't answer what I don't know myself, and I don't know what will happen now. All that I do know is that you will not be going back to those Muggles while I have any power to prevent it," he added in a low, determined voice.

"If my.. attitude toward you has shifted somewhat, there are many reasons, most of which you can likely guess yourself. Professor Dumbledore was right; I have never hated you. In fact, I protected you last year, protected you for Lily. I am sure Professor Dumbledore told you that."

"He told me, yes," Harry answered quietly. "He didn't say.. that is, he didn't tell me the real reason why. I suppose he does know?"

"Of course he does. There are not many things that Albus Dumbledore doesn't know."

Harry fell silent, but Snape seemed to guess what he had been thinking. At any rate, Severus chose that moment to say, "He had given his word not to tell anyone, Harry. He was not trying to keep anything from you, except by my request."

Harry's green eyes found Severus's black ones, and suddenly Harry asked, "Were you ever going to tell me this, if you hadn't come to the Dursleys? If Aunt Petunia hadn't -- said the things she said?"

Severus paused, thinking. After a moment, he answered, "I.. cannot really answer that. I don't know what I might have chosen to do. I suppose it would have depended on the situation."

*~*~*

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, but there was a definite shift, nonetheless. Now it was a thoughtful silence, as both Harry and Severus were trying to clear up their own thoughts. It was no longer the ringing, uncomfortable silence that it had been, whether the two who were sitting in the middle of it realized that yet or not.

Not much was said after dinner, either. Severus went downstairs to tend his potion while Harry retreated upstairs to his quiet bedroom. It was quite different from Privet Drive, where he had to listen to the Dursleys snoring or Aunt Petunia squealing about how cute Dudley's newest school photograph was.

It was the dead of night when Severus came wearily upstairs. Late as it was, he was surprised to see that light was filtering out from the crack beneath Harry's bedroom door. Perhaps he had fallen asleep with the light on?

Severus rapped gently on the door with his knuckles; there was no answer. He knocked a little harder, but still nothing. Finally he opened the door, and as he did, the corners of his lips twitched. Had he almost smiled?

The contents of Harry's trunk were back inside it, although it appeared that they had been packed in no particular order. Several books and as many rolls of parchment were laid out on the bed, but the quill beside them was dry and the ink pot corked. Harry was in the chair by the desk, his wand clutched loosely in one hand. It appeared that he had been sitting there, looking out the window, with his chin in his hand. Now he was asleep, slumped onto the desk and breathing rhythmically.

Severus crossed the room and stopped beside the spindly chair. Why in Merlin's name had the boy been sitting in front of the window long enough to fall asleep? There was no sign of a book or parchment anywhere nearby, so he must have just been looking out of the window.

For a moment, Severus debated leaving Harry there, but decided against it. He would probably have a crick in his neck in the morning as it was, and he was an easy target for a curse from the outside if he stayed there. There was still every chance that the owl -- or just the information -- had fallen into the wrong hands.

Again, Severus found himself shaking Harry's shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. This time it was easy, thoguh. Harry wasn't deeply asleep -- how could he be, in that position? -- and sat up almost immediately. He looked quite bleary-eyed, and his glasses were lop-sided. "Hm?" he asked unclearly, blinking several times to try to bring Snape's face into focus.

"It is very late," said Severus. "You must have fallen asleep in front of the window."

"Sleep? I was asleep. Wasn't I?"

"Yes. You fell asleep in front of the window."

"Oh, right," Harry said, stifling a yawn and straightening his glasses.

"You should go to bed," Severus advised. "You need to rest. It has.. been a very long day."

Harry chuckled grimly and murmured, "I'll say."

*~*~*

There was no scratching of a quill when Severus passed Harry's door the next morning, no swishing sound as pages of a book turned. Perhaps the boy was still asleep, Severus thought. It made sense, since Harry hadn't slept much in at least the last two days.

Much to Severus's surprise, however, just as he was about to go fetch Harry for breakfast, the twelve-year-old came walking down the stairs. This time, it was Harry who seemed to know what the other was thinking, because he grinned slightly and said, "It's the same time you called me for breakfast yesterday. You're a creature of habit."

The corners of Severus's mouth twitched again. Yes, Harry definitely had Lily in him; James Potter would never have caught on to something like that so quickly. Learning a curse he wanted to use on someone, or various flying skills, yes; but not something like that.

Of course, Severus didn't say any of this out loud. He just nodded and said, "Clever." Then he led the way toward the kitchen, but Harry figured that was as close to a compliment as he could ever hope to receive from Severus Snape.

Breakfast started out as quietly as the meals before it. This time, however, Harry broke the silence.

"How do you do it?" he asked suddenly, and Severus looked up.

"How do I do what, exactly?"

"Stay awake. You've gotten up every morning before I have, and gone to bed after me. How do you do that?"

Severus smirked. "I expect you will find out yourself, before too long. Third years at Hogwarts take on extra classes, and the amount of homework greatly increases. I daresay that you and your little friends will be staying up at least until midnight and waking with the dawn before too long."

Harry didn't like the sound of that very much, but he didn't suppose there was anything he could do about it. At least he wouldn't have to think about extra classes this year.

"What new classes?" he asked curiously, stabbing a sausage with his fork. "How many do we take?"

"These are elective classes, Harry; you take whichever ones you prefer, and whichever ones will help you get the job you desire. There is Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Muggle Studies.. It's virtually impossible to take them all, there isn't enough time in the day. Most wizards in training ask for advice from their families and consider their options for what they wish to do after school."

"Hm!" Harry murmured, nibbling thoughtfully on his sausage. Then he suddenly grinned and said, "I bet you Hermione will have a field day with that! She'll want to take every class, wait and see."

"I doubt that is possible."

"That doesn't mean she won't try. Hermione would take a class on how to go to class if they had one, and she's an expert at that. I wouldn'tbe surprised if she tried to take Muggle Studies."

Severus looked confused. "I thought Granger was Muggle-born?"

Harry grinned again and said, "Exactly." Then all traces of amusement slid off his face as he overlong sleeve of Dudley's old shirt fell into a pool of pancake syrup.

Severus's black eyes followed this movement, and he frowned. "Are those things all that you have to wear?"

Color rose in Harry's face at this. He dropped his gaze to his plate and murmured, "Yes.. They're Dudley's old things. The Dursleys never spent much on me if they could help it."

Instantly, Severus's frown became more of a scowl. He had expected as much, but hearing Harry admit it aloud was quite another matter. It brought up an anger inside Severus like he had no felt for a long time.

"We'll have to remedy that," he said when Harry had finished speaking. "You need some proper clothes, not hand-me-downs frmo a conceited swine."

Harry stared as Snape went on to say, "Your Hogwarts letter should come soon. After that, I will take you to Diagon Alley to get your things. Twilfoot and Tatting's sells clothes that are evry much like a Muggle's. Similar enough to fool a Muggle, at any rate."

"Twilfoot and Tatting's," Harry repeated blankly.

"Yes. I expect you've only been inside Madam Malkin's, for your uniform. She makes finer robes and cloaks, but she doesn't sell anything else."

Harry blinked and tried not to gape. "Er.. thank you," he said uncertainly, not knowing exactly what to say. He wasn't accustomed to this sort of thoughtfulness on Snape's part -- or anyone else's, for that matter.

Severus just nodded and went back to his plate. A moment later, though, he remembered something else that he had intended to ask.

"Why were you sitting in front of the window last night?"

Harry looked surprised at this question, and it took him a moment to find his voice. Even when he did, he spoke in an embarrassed sort of mumble. "Well, I... You said that my mum grew up close by, and I was just trying to imagine where she might have lived, is all."

If Harry was surprised by the question, then Severus was stunned by the answer. He had expected that Harry would have been waiting for an owl or something of the sort.

"Well," Severus said at last, "I'm afraid that your window faces the wrong way. The Evans family lived on this side of the river, in a place called Longriver Court."

"Oh," Harry said slowly, trying not to sound disappointed. "Are there still Muggles there?"

"Yes, I believe so. I don't frequent the place, any more." He paused for a moment, watching Harry stab moodily at the last piece of sausage, and then said suddenly, "Perhaps you would like to pay a visit?" Harry looked up immediately, wide-eyed, as Severus continued, "The antidote I am brewing will be finished soon. Then I could take you there, to see where she lived."

Severus didn't know what had made him say that; it wasn't at all like him. Yet it sounded right as he said it, though he couldn't even attempt to divine the reason why.

"Really!?" Harry blurted out, dropping his fork completely. "You -- you would do that? Take me there?"

There was a couple seconds' pause, and then Severus said in a voice that sounded a lot more sure that he felt, "Certainly."

It was two and a half more days before Severus's potion was completed. By that time, he had to begin preparing dinner, and after that it was nearly dark. However, he told Harry that the antidote was complete, and promised that they could go the next day.

It was an exciting prospect for Harry, who had always wanted to learn more about his parents. Really, it was more than he could have hoped for, to get to see where his mother had lived. He didn't exactly know what he expected to learn from it, but he felt like seeing the place would help him to make sense of all the conflictig thoughts and emotions in his head and heart.

As Harry fell asleep thinking about the upcoming day, Severus was lying in his bed thinking about exactly the same thing. Unlike Harry, however, he was quite uncertain about what he hoped to achieve with this visit. In fact, he still couldn't figure out why he had volunteered to take Harry there. After all, Severus had avoided the place for years. Why was he suddenly volunteering to take Lily's son to see the place? If anything, it would make the memories harder to bear; because, even after all these years and all that had transpired within them, Severus Snape still loved Lily Evans with all his heart.

Severus barely slept that night, even though he should have been dead tired after staying up and brewing that potion the past several nights. Then, when at last he got up to go downstairs and begin preparing breakfast, his heart picked up the pace and started beating double-time. Was he nervous!? Severus shook his head and tried to put the thought out of his head, though he found that rather hard at the moment.

It seemed that Harry was anxious, as well, because Severus could hear footsteps in the room across the hall when he opened his door. He's pacing, Severus thought as he walked down the stairs. He doesn't know what to expect.. and, for that matter, neither do I.

Severus was perhaps halfway through his breakfast when he glanced up and nearly choked on a mouthful of toast. Harry's plate was empty! This was the first time he had eaten all of what Severus had put on the plate, and the Potions Master was pleasantly surprised. At the same time, however, he was still apprehensive about what was coming next. From the expectant look on Harry's face, it was obvious that he was waiting rather impatiently for Snape to finish his own breakfast.

Trying his best to neither rush through the food or eat slowly on purpose, Severus cleaned his plate and then cleared the table. By this time, Harry's heart was hammering, as well. It was nearly time! He could hardly contain his excitement any longer, and when Snape turned around, Harry practically jumped out of his chair. He thought he caught a fleeting glimpse of an odd half smile on Snape's face at this, though it was hard to be sure.

"I don't suppose there is any need to ask if you are ready," Severus said in an amused sort of way. At least, it was an amused sort of way for him.

Harry grinned guiltily, nearly knocked over his chair as he tried to push it up to the table, and then looked strangely at Snape as if seeing him for the first time. In fact, Harry had just noticed that Severus was wearing Muggle clothes. Black jeans, a dark gray t-shirt, and black sneakers took the place of his usual sweeping black robes and dragonhide boots.

"Yes?" Severus asked with a note of curiosity in his voice, though there was a knowing glint in his black eyes.

"Er.. you look.. very.. Muggle..ish.. sir," Harry said slowly, making a valiant effort not to stare. It was hard not to, though, as he thought that had surely never seen anything quite so odd as Severus Snape in Muggle attire.

Severus's right eyebrow raised ever so slightly and the smallest trace of amusement filtered into his voice as he answered, "You do realize that, when I was a young boy, there were Muggles still living here?"

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. Then he admitted, "Actually, I didn't even think of that."

Severus shook his head, but the corners of his mouth turned upward nonetheless. After a moment he said, "Well, I hope you have your walking shoes on."

"We're walking?" Harry asked, excitement welling inside him again at the mention of leaving.

"It's not that far, there's no sense in a Portkey; and if we did use one, there would be a chance of popping up right in front of a Muggle. There's the Statute of Secrecy to take into account, after all."

Harry nodded. He knew very well about the Statute of Secrecy now, because that's what he had been accused of breaking when Dobby had used magic in front of the Muggles.

"Very well, then," Severus said, starting toward the door. "We should be going."

Harry followed, trying his best not to let his excitement show. Truth be told, however, he wasn't doing the best job of it. There was a light in his wide green eyes that spoke of poorly hidden anticipation. Even the decrepit buildings in Spinner's End couldn't dampen his spirits, though Snape certainly didn't seem impervious to their gloom.

A dark look came over Severus's face as his black eyes slid from one house to the next. Harry wondered whether there were bad memories going through the Potions Master's mind as he glanced from one place to the next. Was he seeing again neighbors who had been suspicious of a young wizard, or children of his age who had ridiculed him for being different? Harry had known many people like that. Might he some day walk along Privet Drive with this same look on his face, seeing shadows of things that had been?

It might have been a sobering thought under normal circumstances, but Harry was too excited just then to let it bring him down. It wouldn't have been unexpected if he had been bouncing on every step. Exactly how he managed to avoid it was anyone's guess.

After a few minutes, the houses started to look more like they had been inhabited some time this decade. These houses didn't have broken windows, but weren't exactly well kept, either. Harry began to see that almost all the houses down by the river had been uninhabited for some time. He wondered if there was a reason, or if the place had just fallen out of favor with the Muggles.

Next there came a few houses that looked like someone still lived there. One even had a wizened-looking old lady who tugged a lacy living room curtain shut as they drew near. Harry had to fight back a grimace; he was forcibly reminded of the neighbor across the street on Privet Drive, an ages-old woman who could rival Aunt Petunia in nosiness and loved to hit neighborhood pets with her cane when she ventured outside.

Another house was painted a garish shade of vivid yellow that made Harry gape. The paint was fresh, but otherwise the house looked was in quite a state of disrepair. The bright color only served to draw attention to it, which if anything made it seem more horrible.

The houses started to get nicer after that, though, and the unoccupied ones were still well kept and had for sale signs in their yards. Harry was relieved; he had thought for a while that perhaps when they got to this Longriver Court, there would be nothing left but dilapidated old houses like those on Spinner's End. It had been years since Lily Evans had lived there, after all.

While Harry was noticing these interesting facts, Severus was listening to the sound of his own heart beating as quickly as if he were running instead of walking. It was actually rather surprising that no one else had noticed it yet. For there were people out in this little neighborhood now, going out to retrieve their morning papers and, in a few cases, leaving for work. Then, up ahead...

"The playground," Severus murmured, his black eyes lingering on the rather battered old swingset and slide. The bushes were gone now, though, and because of that, so were the flowers.. the flowers that Lily had been playing with that day when he had first spoken to her...

"Hm?" Harry asked, looking up at Snape. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing..."

But now imagse were passing through his mind, as if he were seeing them again: Lily on the swings, going as high as she could and jumping off, landing so gracefully that she might have actually flown... the flower in Lily's tiny hand, opening and closing its petals as it spun like it was dancing on a music box... Petunia looking with disgust on a young Severus, dressed in clothes many sizes too big... and Lily loyally following her sister, the sister who would one day refuse to speak Lily's name and refer to her only as "my sister, the freak." It made Severus's chest burn with anger again just to think of it.

They were passing the playground now, though, going on to a side street. This was Riverview Lane, and Longriver Court was at its end. It wouldn't be long now...

And the next thing he knew, Severus was stopping in front of a two-story building with a neatly trimmed front lawn. The house was painted seafoam green and looked neat and cozy even from the outside.

"They've painted it," he observed aloud. "When she lived here, it was pale blue. It blended into the sky when the sun was overhead." Harry listened as Snape spoke, trying to imagine the house as it was back then. "There was a flower bed below the window then.. and a climbing vine that bloomed on the gate. Morning glories, I believe she called them. The neighbors said the vine was too rugged for such a neat, new house. Lily said it looked perfect."

"Hello," a voice said, bringing both wizards back to reality. "I haven't seen you around here before."

Severus turned to see a Muggle man with neatly combed blond hair who was wearing a bright blue jogging suit. A friendly-looking golden retriever stood at his side.

"You haven't bought the old McBrayer place, have you?" the man inquired curiously, gesturing toward a house a few doors down.

"No," Severus answered shortly. "I live on Spinner's End."

"Down by the river?" the man asked, and he was putting on a valiant attempt to keep his friendly smile even though he was obviously perturbed by this news.

"Yes."

"Oh, really? I didn't think anyone lived down there anymore."

"I do."

"Oh," the man said, his smile faltering for a half second, but he recovered it again. "It must get lonely down there, if you're the only one left."

"Not really."

"So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? Visiting a friend?"

Severus paused, and for the first time, a trace of emotion began to show in his dark eyes. "No," he answered. "The only person I knew who lived here died some time ago. Lily Evans. She was Harry's mother, and she once lived in this house."

"Oh, really?" the Muggle man said, sounding genuinely interested again. "She lived in this house? My wife and I have lived here for six years, so she must have left some time ago."

"She did."

"Was she your wife?"

Severus blinked, seemingly quite shocked by this question. "No," he said quickly. "I was -- just her friend. I knew her when we were children."

"Oh, I see."

"Mike?" a woman's voice called, and all eyes turned to the house they were standing in front of. A young woman with short brown hair was standing by the front door, looking concerned as she asked, "Is something the matter?"

"Oh, no, Laura!" the Muggle man, Mike, said quickly. "Just having a chat with these folks."

Laura came over to join them, and Harry noticed that she had friendly, twinkling eyes that were almost as dark as Snape's. "I'm sorry," she said with a smile. "I didn't realize we had company. I'm Laura Hanson."

"Severus Snape."

"Harry Potter."

"Oh, and this is Joanie," Mike Hanson said, petting the golden retriever gently on the head.

Harry grinned at the dog, but Severus's expression remained unreadable. "I apologize if we have disturbed you," he said blandly. "I was merely showing Harry the house where his mother lived --"

"Oh, your mum lived here?" Laura Hanson asked, looking down at Harry kindly. She really wasn't even that much taller than him, which was saying something.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said quietly.

"Is she waiting at home for you and your dad?"

Harry blanched. "She -- she died when I was little," he said at last, "and Pr -- Severus isn't my dad."

Severus raised an eyebrow pointedly, but Harry kept his gaze locked on Laura Hanson, pretending not to have noticed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Hanson said, and she really looked it. "Would you like to come in? I just made a batch of cookies, we're expecting our son Todd home any time. He stayed overnight at a friend's house -- he's about your age, I'd guess."

"That's a wonderful idea!" Mr. Hanson boomed, without giving Severus or Harry a chance to answer. "Come inside, I insist --" And the next thing Harry knew, he was being ushered into the house behind Severus, who looked rather harrassed.

"We really can't --"

"Nonsense, it's no imposition!"

Whatever Severus said, one of the Hansons cut him off before he had managed to get out more than a few words. His brow furrowed slightly in annoyance as he was made to sit beside Harry on a sofa in the Hansons' living room. Mrs. Hanson hurried off to retrieve a plate of cookies, and a girl who looked a lot like Mrs. Hanson, only with longer hair, appeared from another room.

"Oh, this is our daughter Beverly," Mr. Hanson said, gesturing toward the girl. "Come over here, Bev..."

And Beverly walked over shyly, a paperback book clutched in her left hand. Harry was reminded strongly of Hermione, except that this girl seemed much less bossy.

"Hi," she said with a slight smile, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling back. "I'm Harry Potter."

"I'm Beverly Hanson. How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Oh, really? You're my age, then. I thought you would have been Todd's age, he's eleven next week."

"No, I'm twelve. My birthday was last month."

Mrs. Hanson was back now, carrying a plate heaped high with chocolate chip cookies. Beverly managed to get one before Mrs. Hanson forced the plate on Harry and Severus, insisting that both of them try one.

"They're my own recipe," she said happily as Harry took a bite and Severus eyed his malevolently.

Twice they nearly managed to leave, but the first time Severus was pulled back by Mr. Hanson, who wanted to brag about a golf tournament he had won; and the second time they were interrupted by Todd's return home. Todd then sat and talked with Harry for a quarter of an hour about television and basketball before they finally managed to escape out the front door.

Harry started laughing as soon as they were out of sight, and he didn't stop for almost a full minute. "Well," he said at last, "that was interesting."

"That was annoying."

Harry grinned. "You just didn't like them because Mrs. Hanson made you eat a cookie."

"They are far too.. cheerful. About everything."

"Yeah, that's really kind of true. I didn't know there were people that cheery and happy."

Severus shot a side glance toward Harry at this, but he was now munching on one of the cookies that Mrs. Hanson had insisted they take with them and didn't see it.

*~*~*

The first thing Harry noticed when they got back to Spinner's End was that Hedwig had returned. The snowy owl was flying in circles and hooting loudly, as if calling for her owner. Upon spotting Harry, she flew directly for him, landing rather hard on his shoulder and nibbling his ear as if glad to see him.

"Sorry, Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her feathers. "I didn't think you would be back so soon. I thought it would take you a week to go to Hermione and come back."

Hedwig hooted in a dignified manner as if to say that Harry had no faith in him. She didn't leave his shoulder until they were back inside Snape's house, where she landed on the back of the sofa and held out her leg to Harry.

He took the letter and unrolled it. Hermione's neat script was unmistakable.

Harry rolled the letter back up slowly, thinking about what Hermione had written. He was surprised that writing to Hermione hadn't supplied him with new information, but she hadn't said much that Ron hadn't already. Of course, she had a better view on Snape than he did, but that was just the kind of person Hermione was. Anyway, Harry was certain now that she was right. Mind, he wasn't going to be the one to tell Hermione that she had been right all along.

That reminded Harry, he should probably write to Ron and tell him not to go flying around in a bewitched car. That definitely shouldn't make front page of the Daily Prophet. Ron didn't need that sort of attention.

Harry reread the letter, trying to figure out which Wednesday Hermione had meant, when he realized that this was Tuesday. The Wednesday to which Hermione had been referring was actually the next day. At least, he hoped it was; it was hard to tell with mail between countries. She might have meant next Wednesday. Harry didn't think so, though.

So dd that mean that Hermione had already got her letter from Hogwarts? Why hadn't Harry, then? Had it perhaps been part of the mail that the house elf had snatched? And if it was, what could he do? Send Hedwig to Dumbledore and ask for another letter?

That wasn't necessarily true, though. Maybe Hermione had just been assuming that the letter would be waiting at home for her. Maybe she had even got hers early, because Dumbledore knew she was out of the country and wanted to give her time. Or maybe she had meant the next Wednesday, after all.

"Oi, Hermione," Harry said, exasperated. "You really need to be more specific. Especially when you're in France."

"And what does being in France have to do with being specific?"

Harry turned around so quickly that he might have gotten whiplash. Severus was standing only a couple of feet away, his right eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Well," Harry began slowly, "it means that I don't have time to send a letter back to see which Wednesday she meant when she asked me to meet her and the Weasleys in Diagon Alley."

"What exactly did she write?"

Harry picked up the letter and read aloud, "'Oh, and I'll be in Diagon Alley on Wednesday to buy my school things. Ron's already said he can come, so do you think you can meet us there?' Only she didn't say which Wednesday. It could be this Wednesday or next."

Severus looked thoughtful for a long moment. Then a rather confident look came over his face and he said, "Well, there's a simple way to be sure; contact Mr. Weasley."

"Hedwig couldn't make it there and back before tomorrow," Harry objected.

"There's a faster way," Severus said quietly, his anger at the Dursleys returning again as he was reminded of how naive Harry was about common forms of magical transportation.

"There is?" Harry asked curiously. He had never heard of any such thing, but then again, there was a lot he didn't know about the magical world yet.

"Yes..." And then he pointed his wand at another bookcase; it moved forward and slid to the left to reveal a rather dusty-looking fireplace. Harry stared at it, looking confused, as Severus approached and peered into a canister on the hearth.

"Er -- sir, what are you doing?" Harry asked as Severus started a fire.

"Preparing to use floo powder."

"Floo.. powder?"

Severus straightened up, holding the canister he had taken from the hearth, and looked at Harry. "Yes, floo powder. It is generally used for the purpose of traveling from one wizarding fire to another; but it can also be used to communicate without actually leaving the place where you are. It will be a simple matter to contact the Weasleys in this manner."

"Oh," Harry said after a moment, still unsure of exactly what that meant. "Right."

A dark eyebrow twitched upward, but aside from that, Severus gave no response. He just took a handful of glittering powder from inside the canister and threw it into the fire, which turned green. Then Harry stared as Snape put his head in the fireplace and said commandingly, "The Burrow."

There was a whirl of smoke and flame and then Severus was looking into the living room of the Weasleys' home. Molly was bustling about, folding and sorting laundry, but she turned around upon hearing the floor. Her eyebrows raised, but her voice was quite level as she observed, "Severus."

"Molly," Severus returned, trying to keep a smirk off his face. "Harry recently received an owl --"

"What?"

Severus blinked. "I said that Harry recently received an owl --"

"You called him Harry."

"So I did," Severus answered coolly. "Might I ask my question now, Molly?"

Molly still looked surprised, but now slightly abashed. "Of course," she said rather stiffly.

"Thank you. As I was saying, Harry recently received an owl from Miss Granger saying that she and your son wished to meet him in Diagon Alley on Wednesday."

"Yes."

"Harry was unsure whether she was referring to this Wednesday or Wednesday next."

"We'll be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

"Thank you, Molly. You may tell Mr. Weasley that Harry will meet him there."

"I'll do that."

"Good day."

"Goodbye."

With this, Severus pulled his head back out of the fireplace and dusted off his robes. Then he turned around to see Harry standing and staring as if he had never seen anything quite so strange.

"We will be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow," Severus said promptly, as if he had done nothing spectacular at all.

Harry gaped for a moment before his found his voice. "What -- how did you --" Then he finally he seemed to give up on this line of thought and said, "So -- so it is tomorrow, then?"

"Yes," Severus said, seeming to ignore Harry's stammerings. However, after a short pause, he answered those, as well: "As I said, it is floo powder. Normally, it is used to move an entire person or object from one wizarding fire to another. However, it is also possible to use it in other ways, such as communicating with just one's head in the flames. That way you never truly leave your original location."

Harry just nodded and pretended to understand that, because he wasn't entirely sure that he did. The majority of the magical world was still very much uncharted territory in Harry's eyes. However, the fact that they were going to Diagon Alley the next day reminded Harry of something.

"Er -- sir? I forgot to tell you earlier, but.. I don't have my Hogwarts letter."

Severus frowned. "It has almost certainly been sent out by now," he said slowly. "The Headmaster rarely waits until this late to send out the letter, unless he can't find a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. However, I happen to know that he has already found one. You should have received your letter by now."

Harry bit his lip and at last voiced his concerns aloud. "Sir, you don't think.. that house elf might have taken it? He had a lot of letters, I couldn't see who all of them were from..."

Severus seemed to mull this over for a minute. At last, he said slowly, "It is possible; but I daresay you can borrow the supply list of one of your friends."

A strange look came over Harry's face at that. "You believe me?" he asked incredulously. "When I told you, you didn't believe me. Why do you believe me now?"

Again, that one dark eyebrow raised before Severus spoke. "When you first told me your tale, you had given me no reason to believe you."

"And I have now? How?"

The eyebrow went higher, but otherwise, Severus's expression did not change. "You have not lied, Harry. Even about things which you obviously did not want to admit."

Harry turned red; Snape was talking about the Dursleys, he had to be. A shadow of an emotion that he had not felt for some time crossed Severus's pallid face; but like all the others, it disappeared quickly as he again brought his features under control.

"Don't concern yourself with it," he said quietly. "It wasn't your fault. Don't let it become your problem."

Harry's eyes darkened as he murmured, "That's easy for you to say."

Severus gazed at Harry for a moment. Then he said softly, "No, it isn't."

And then he turned and swept off toward the kitchen, leaving Harry standing beside the fireplace and looking curious.

*~*~*

Lunch was ready early that day, probably because Severus had retreated to the kitchen before he normally would have. However, he had needed to reorganize this thoughts, and that had seemed the perfect excuse.

Not wanting the food to get cold before they ate it, he went to fetch Harry, but was surprised to find him sitting in the living room. He had never remained downstairs alone before, but yet there he was -- sitting quietly on the old sofa and reading the Daily Prophet.

In his surprise, Severus accidentally let the door swing shut behind him, instead of catching it and easing it shut as he normally did. It gave a soft thud and a click, and Harry looked up. Almost instantly, he was on his feet, dropping the paper on the sofa as if it had scalded him.

"Is it time for lunch already, sir?"

"No, not really time for lunch," Severus said. "It's a few minutes early, yet. However, lunch is ready." He paused, and the merest trace of a smile crossed his face. "So, no, Harry -- you are not late."

Harry smiled, half grateful and half amused, and followed Severus back the way he had come. However, when they sat down, a complete silence fell, broken only by the clink of Severus's silverware. It didn't take him long to realize that the lack of such sounds from Harry's side of the table meant that he wasn't eating.

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

Harry looked up from his still untouched plate and toward Severus. Had that been concern in his voice?

"Just thinking, sir," Harry answered quietly.

Severus's right eyebrow twitched upward again. "About?" he prompted in a voice as quiet as Harry's own.

Harry was silent for a long moment, but then he finally answered, "About the Hansons. I didn't realize that people like them really existed."

"Annoying people?"

"No," Harry began, but then he gazed at Severus strangely. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Of course not," Severus answered, but there was a strange look in his black eyes just the same. "What sort of people were you talking about, then?"

Another long pause, and then: "Happy people. People who are always that cheery, no matter what. It's.. a little odd."

"I believe you mean annoying, Harry, not odd."

Harry couldn't help it; he had to laugh. Then at last he shook his head and said, "You know, it's still strange to hear you call me Harry."

Severus's eyebrow twitched again. "And speaking of me calling you Harry -- I don't believe I ever gave you permission to call me Severus."

A cold fear washed over Harry, sweeping away all the amusement he had felt before. Snape was about to get angry at him, he knew it. "Well, I almost called you Professor Snape," he said apologetically, talking to his plate, "but they were Muggles, so I -- I didn't know what to say."

He chanced a glance at Severus, and was surprised to see that there was no anger in Snape's eyes. Actually, if Harry had to guess, he would have said that it was something closer to curiosity.

It wasn't just curosity that Severus felt, though. Again, his newfound hatred for the Dursleys cropped up at Harry's discomfort; then there was that strange wave of protectiveness that Severus was still denying; and maybe even a twinge of regret for having been a contributor to that same discomfort himself. Granted, he had done (and would do, he told himself firmly) nothing that the Dursleys had; but he had never exactly given Harry a reason to feel comfortable, either.

"It was a sensible decision," Severus said at last, and he had to restrain his amusement at the look of great surprise in Harry's eyes at that statement. "It would have been appreciated if you had asked my opinion beforehand.. but I admit that it would not have been sensible in that particular situation. For the record, however, you may call me Severus this summer, if you choose; but bear in mind that you must still call me sir, and at Hogwarts I am still Professor Snape."

Harry's face suddenly broke into a grin. He didn't really know why; maybe it was just relief that he hadn't been yelled at. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but doubt that Snape would have done anything short of blow up if Harry had called him Severus at any time before. Maybe Snape really was all right.

"Thank you.. Severus." Harry paused there, and shook his head. "Wow, that sounds funny. It'll definitely take some getting used to."

"It sounds almost as unusual as you calling me Harry."

Severus's right eyebrow twitched again. "Would you prefer I went back to calling you Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry said instantly, without even thinking about it.

That tiny trace of a smile graced Severus's pallid face again. "I thought not. Now perhaps you should eat your potatoes while they are only moderately cold."

And Harry did as he was told, though mostly to hide the grin on his face.

*~*~*

"So, how are we getting to Diagon Alley, Severus?"

Harry and Severus had just sat down to breakfast, and the latter was already beginning to wonder if the former would ever run out of questions.

"We'll be using the Floo Network," Severus answered coolly.

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean that thing with the green fire like you did yesterday? Sir?"

"Were you this talkative when you first received your Hogwarts letter?"

There was a short silence and then Harry said slowly, "Actually, no. I wondered why the house was being filled with letters the Dursleys didn't want me to open, but it took me a while to get used to the giant who knocked down the front door of the shack we were hiding in."

A crease appeared in the middle of Severus's forehead, but he said nothing.

Harry finished his breakfast quickly again that morning, and sat looking rather anxious while he waited for the Potions Master to do the same. Then when Snape stood up to clear the table, Harry could barely stand still as he waited. Apparently it was painfully obvious, because Severus seemed to be disguising his amusement as he turned and said, "I take your eagerness to mean that you're ready to go?"

A look of excitement in his eyes, Harry nodded. Severus was suddenly reminded of the day before and wondered why on earth the boy was so enthusiastic about a trip to Diagon Alley.

"So, how exactly do you do use this Floo Powder?" Harry asked as Severus again revealed the hidden fireplace.

"It's quite simple," Severus explained as he lit a fire. "You throw the powder into the fire, step inside, and speak -- clearly -- the name of the place you wish to go."

"Sounds easy enough," Harry said, but he still seemed uncertain.

"It is," Severus said, and his words seemed almost kind. He offered the canister to Harry and instructed him to throw a handful into the fire. Harry was heartened somewhat when the fire turned green; he had half expected that even that wouldn't work.

"Now step inside and say 'Diagon Alley.' It is likely that the Weasleys and Grangers will not be there yet, but I daresay you remember what the place looks like; I will follow momentarily. Should you go astray, wait where you are; I shall find you."

Harry wasn't sure if this was a comforting thought or not, but he did as he was told nonetheless. Unfortunately, when he opened his mouth to speak, he got a mouthful of ash and had to cough out his words.

As he disappeared, Severus had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Harry hadn't spoken very clearly at all; in fact, Severus himself had barely been able to distinguish the words. So had the Floo Powder swept the boy off somewhere else?

The first thought into Severus's mind was that he should try to say exactly the same thing that Harry had. If it worked, he would end up in the same place. If it didn't, however, there was no telling where he might turn up. There must be many possibilities, for the Floo Network connected wizarding fires all over the world. Yet, what other choice did he have? It was, after all, the only option that made much sense.

Finally he decided that he might as well try it. He had to find the boy before he managed to get into trouble -- and Harry Potter had already proven himself quite adept at getting into trouble.

However, upon emerging from the fire, Severus found himself in Diagon Alley with no Harry anywhere nearby. That could mean one of two things: either Harry hadn't listened, and had wandered off by himself, or it hadn't worked and Severus had wound up in a different location. The Potions Master found himself much more inclined to believe the latter than the former.

Yet, where to begin looking? It might be possible to try the Floo Network again, but it was highly unlikely to work the second time when it hadn't the first. So should he just begin looking here? Harry might have gone on to the next grate, and Severus's jaw tightened as he thought of that, for the next grate was Knockturn Alley. It was the best shot he had, though, so Severus set off toward Gringotts, turning down the dark side street next to it.

The place hadn't changed much from what he remembered: still dark, dreary, and almost entirely dedicated to the Dark Arts. Where was the grate in here, Severus wondered? He couldn't remember, even if he had ever known. The most likely possibility was Borgin and Burke's, he decided; it was the oldest shop around, as well as the largest. And sure enough, when he reached the store, there was Harry Potter, standing near the fireplace and looking warily at Borgin's wares.

Harry caught sight of Severus in the window and practically ran to the door. "Severus! What is this place!? How did you find me?"

"It is Knockturn Alley, and I found you by using my head -- but I can explain later, we should get out of here quickly."

Harry didn't object, and he was never happier than when he saw Gringotts towering up to one side of the road. He wasn't sure that he breathed until he was back on the friendly, winding path that was Diagon Alley.

Once their feet were safely back on the cobblestone path, Severus finally stopped to actually look at Harry. He was covered in soot from head to toe, and his glasses had snapped in two right at the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be holding his glasses to his face with one hand so that he could see.

"Your glasses are broken," Severus observed. Then he held out his hand and said, "If you'll let me see them, I can fix them for you."

Harry did as he was told, and Severus repaired the glasses with a tap of his wand and a murmuring of, "Reparo." When he handed them back, Harry could hardly believe it. They were actually whole! He couldn't remember the last time he had worn glasses that weren't taped together; Dudley had made sure of that.

"We should go to Twilfoot and Tatting's first," Severus said after a moment. "That will take the longest, and your friends will likely not be here for another hour or so."

There was no plump, smiling witch like Madam Malkin in Twilfoot and Tatting's. The witch who took Harry's measurements was rather sober and not exactly the friendliest woman Harry had ever met. She hummed a beautiful tune as she worked, though, and when Harry received his clothes, the seams were flawless. He wasn't sure Madam Malkin could have done it. Severus was right, however, that it would take a while; in fact, the estimated hour before Ron and Hermione turned up had almost passed by the time the witch was finished.

"Now what, sir?" Harry asked as he carried a towering armful of wrapped packages back to the waiting room.

"Now I will pay for these and shrink them."

Harry turned red again. "Sir -- I have money that my parents left me --"

Severus's right eyebrow twitched again. "I know that; I took the liberty of getting some out of your vault for you. You really shouldn't leave your key lying around, you know." That tiny trace of a smile crossed his face again, but after a short pause he said seriously, "I will be paying for this, though, Harry. You should not have to buy all this yourself. Even if your aunt and uncle refuse to be proper human beings and provide something as simple as proper clothing for their nephew."

*~*~*

"HARRY!"

A grinning, tanned girl with a load of bushy brown hair ran and hugged Harry, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Harry laughed and said, "Y'know, Hermione, I'm glad to see you, too, but if you don't let go of me you're going to kill me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said apologetically, stepping back. "I didn't know if you would make it, I only just realized last night that I didn't say which Wednesday we wanted you to come --"

"It's all right, he's here," Ron said impatiently, rolling his eyes.

"But he might have gotten confused and come next week instead!"

"But I didn't, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "It's okay."

Severus was just standing beside the archway of Diagon Alley and watching the three second years talking, Arthur Weasley interrogating the Grangers about electricity, and Molly berating the twins about some prank they had pulled earlier in the day. It was actually rather amusing, but of course he wasn't going to reveal that.

Ron and Hermione wanted Harry to go shopping with them, and Severus agreed to get their potions supplies since he needed to go to the apothecary, anyway. It would be good for the boy to spend time with the friends he had been isolated from over the summer. Anyway, Severus was less likely to run into the Weasley twins this way, and those two ranked at the top of his list of intolerable students.

So after agreeing to meet Severus in Flourish and Blotts in an hour, Harry left with Ron and Hermione. Predictibly, as soon as they were out of earshot, Ron picked up the same line of thought he had been following in his letter.

"How could Dumbledore send you with Snape!?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore thought it was the best option, Ron," Hermione said gently.

"Actually, he seemed to think it was the only option," said Harry. Ron and Hermione looked at him questioningly, and he quickly filled them in on what he had overheard outside Dumbledore's office as they walked. Ron's jaw dropped five seconds into the explanation and didn't close until Harry had finished speaking.

"Snape stood up for you!?" Ron demanded, wide-eyed.

"Why shouldn't he?" Hermione argued. "He saved Harry's life last year, I told you that he couldn't be that bad --"

"Come on, Hermione, he hates Harry!"

"No, he doesn't."

Hermione and Ron stopped arguing immediately and looked at Harry. Ron looked incredulous and Hermione grateful. However, they both looked rather surprised when Harry said, "Severus doesn't hate me."

"What did you just call him?" Ron asked, staring.

"Severus. Hadn't you noticed that he calls me Harry now?"

"Well, yeah, but.. you call him Severus?"

"If they've been living in the same house for a week, why would Harry keep calling him Professor Snape?" asked Hermione. "I mean, it's different at Hogwarts, of course, but it wouldn't make sense to keep calling him professor."

"Well, that, and it would have tipped off the Muggles."

It took nearly the entire hour to fill Ron and Hermione in on everything that had happened. It didn't help that he had to keep repeating himself, since he had to whisper as they brought their things and as a result they often missed whole parts at a time.

"Well, you've had a busy few days," Hermione said when he had finished his story in front of Florean Fortescue's as they enjoying ice cream cones to pass the last ten minutes.

"Can't say it hasn't been interesting," Harry agreed with a grin.

Ron had fallen suddenly and mysteriously silent, and Harry suspected that his friend's dislike of Snape was having a battle with the facts he had just heard. They were already on their way back to Flourish and Blotts before Ron grudgingly said, "Maybe he's not a complete git..." Harry had to grin; for a comment from Ron about Severus, that was practically a compliment.

There was a surprisingly large crowd in Flourish and Blotts when they reached the place. Hermione gasped and pointed out a sign that explained it: someone named Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing copies of his autobiography. "He's written almost all of the booklist!" she said, pulling out the very piece of paper she had referred to and showing it to Harry.

"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a witch," Ron commented blandly, shaking his head.

The Grangers, the Weasleys, and Severus -- the latter looking exceedingly reluctant -- were all standing midway along the line when Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined them, clutching stacks of books. Hermione and her mother began whispering under their breath and Harry suspected that it was something to do with Lockhart. Mrs. Weasley was keeping a firm hold on Ginny's hand and seemed to be rearranging her hair.

It took a while to get anywhere in that line, but eventually a grinning wizard with wavy blond hair came into view. Lockhart was sitting behind a desk that was piled high with his own books. Upon catching sight of him, Mrs. Weasley looked flustered; Severus, on the other hand, looked disdainful.

"Have you met him before, Severus?" Harry asked curiously.

"Twice," Severus said darkly. "Once, several years ago, when he tried to convince me that he knew much more about Potions than I; and once, earlier this summer."

"I take it you didn't like him much," Harry said with a grin. Severus looked at him strangely and seemed to be on the verge of answering, but just then a voice gasped, "Harry Potter!?"

Suddenly Harry found himself being dragged up in front of the group of people as he tried not to go red in the face. By the burning sensation he felt, he could tell that he was failing miserably.

Gilderoy Lockhart had him pinned to his side, grinning at a Daily Prophet photographer who was jumping around to get different angles. Harry tried to get away, but it was like trying to escape from a vice. Lockhart had such a firm hold that he might have been part lobster.

Then another, familiar hand gripped his shoulder, and Harry was suddenly reminded of that morning at Hogwarts after he had first left the Dursleys. He looked around to see that Severus was again standing there, gazing at the person on Harry's other side with distrust and, it seemed, dislike.

"I don't believe that Harry asked to be brought up here, Gilderoy," Severus said coldly.

"Oh, you can't begrudge the boy a bit of fun, Severus," Lockhart answered, attempting to wave it off.

"I suppose not," Severus went on in the same icy voice. Then he looked at Harry and his tone changed as he asked, "Harry, do you find this experience fun?"

"No, sir," Harry answered immediately.

"There you have it," Severus said, his voice becoming icy again as he addressed Lockhart. "I believe Harry would prefer to go back to his place in line."

"Yes, sir," Harry added for emphasis.

Lockhart blinked, and then he released Harry. "Yes, of course..."

And Harry retreated to the line as Lockhart addressed them all. He groaned when Lockhart announced that he was going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.

"That's where you met Lockhart this summer, isn't it, Severus?" Harry asked as he and the Potions Master were walking back to the fireplace in Diagon Alley.

"Yes," Severus answered darkly.

Harry shook his head and was silent for a moment. Then he looked up at Severus and said suddenly, "You know something, Severus? I don't know what it is, but every time I go somewhere with you, you end up playing tug-of-war over me with somebody."

Maybe he was imagining it, but as he looked at Severus, Harry was almost certain that he saw the Potions Master smile.

For some reason, Harry had never been happier to know that he was about to leave Diagon Alley. Maybe it was just Lockhart; that certainly hadn't been a comfortable experience. It hadn't helped that Fred and George had nagged him about it the whole time they were in line to buy their books, either. All in all, Harry was quite glad to see that the fireplace was within sight. Then --

"Severus!"

Harry and Severus both whirled, and Harry's eyes widened. A fet feet away was none other than Draco Malfoy, following sullenly in the footsteps of a man who had to be his father.

"Lucius," Severus said in a level tone, inclining his head ever so slightly. "I didn't see you there."

"No doubt in a hurry to return Mr. Potter here to his home," Lucius Malfoy said with a smirk. "I realize that the boy has no parents to speak of, Severus, but must they burden busy wizards with taking him to Diagon Alley?"

"Of course, they couldn't let you wander around by yourself after last year, could they, Potter?" Draco asked, his expression a mirror image of his father's.

"I don't know," Harry answered coolly. "I just might win the House Cup for Gryffindor again if I wander around by myself, Malfoy."

Draco's eyes narrowed, but Lucius put a hand on his son's shoulder and the boy remained silent. "The boy does have quite the mouth on him, doesn't he?" Lucius asked coldly.

"Obviously." Both Draco and Lucius were glaring at Harry, and so did not notice that, as Severus spoke, his eyes lingered on Draco, not Harry. However, Harry had noticed, and he shot a questioning look at the Potions Master that Severus did not acknowledge.

"Oh, yes," Lucius said at last, turning his gaze back to Severus. "There was something else I wished to ask you; I had nearly forgotten."

"And what would that be?"

Lucius Malfoy's pale eyebrows raised slightly and he said slowly, "If we could talk over here for a moment, Severus...?"

Severus nodded and obliged, leaving Harry standing with a smirking Draco who obviously saw this as his chance to say whatever he liked to Harry without any interference.

"Having a nice summer with the Muggles, Potter?" Malfoy asked with a sneer.

"It's gone downhill since seeing you and your father, I'll tell you that much," Harry answered coldly.

A pink tinge came to Malfoy's cheeks. "Shut up about my family, Potter."

"Why? Are you gonna go running to daddy? 'Oh, Daddy, Harry Potter was being so mean --'"

"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy hissed, and by the twitching of his fingers, Harry could tell that the blond boy was longing to reach for his wand.

"You shut up, then, Malfoy, or maybe I'll do an impression of your mum next."

The fact that Harry had never even seen Draco's mother didn't seem to occur to him just then. He looked ready to dive at Harry when suddenly a huge shadow towered over the both of them.

"'Lo there, Harry!" a booming voice said.

"Hagrid!" Harry forgot all about Malfoy as he grinned up at the giant of a man who was Rubeus Hagrid.

"I didn' 'spect to see you here," Hagrid said pleasantly, apparently not having noticed Draco Malfoy. "Were Ron an' Hermione here, too?"

"I expect the Mudblood's already gone home to the Muggles."

Hagrid certainly noticed Draco this time. His friendly black eyes narrowed darkly as they landed on the boy. "Yeh'd best not say things like tha', Malfoy," he said in a low voice. "'Snot civilized."

Draco snorted with derisive laughter and muttered, "Because you're one to talk about civilized..."

"He's got better manners than you, Malfoy," Harry said coldly. This time it was Harry's hand that was itching to grasp a wand.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you're an expert on manners, Potter, living with a bunch of Muggles."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Hagrid beat him to it, his voice dark and foreboding. "'S wizards like you that let You-Know-Who get hold, Malfoy. An' you can bet i's wizards like you tha'll go ter Azkaban fer it."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Malfoy asked, his pale eyes narrowing.

"Not a threa', no. A warnin'. Yeh'll show yer true colors soon enough."

"Hagrid!"

Harry turned around again, this time to see the entire Weasley family trouping down the cobblestone street. Ron was grinning up at Hagrid, but then caught sight of Draco and his grin turned into something more like a look of revulsion.

"What's he doing here?" Ron asked coldly.

"It would probably be a better questions to ask why you're here, Weasley. I would have thought that your family would have to sell their house to pay for this year's books."

"At least our dad works, Malfoy," George said heatedly. "What does your dad do? You know, besides bribing Ministry officials?"

A slight tinge of color came into Malfoy's pale cheeks, but he didn't flush like Fred and George already had. As Draco fell silent, Harry took a stab at resuming normal conversation.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Hagrid?"

"Jus' bin down ter Knockturn Alley --"

"Knownturn Alley!?" Fred and George asked in unison.

"What on earth were you doing down there, Hagrid!?" Harry asked, rather a lot of disdain in his voice for a place he had only ever visited once.

"Why, I had ter get flesh-eatin' slug repellent," Hagrid said with a wave of his hand. "They're ruinin' th' school cabbages."

"Cabbages," Ron repeated blankly.

"Well, o' course! Yeh didn' think tha' I only look after th' creatures, did yeh?"

"Actually, yeah," Ron answered. Fred kicked his younger brother, who immediately added, "Except for the plants, I mean! And the castle, and, er.. stuff like that."

Hagrid looked pleased, but Draco laughed derisively. "That oaf, in charge of anything?" he asked Ron scornfully. "You must be joking! He has less brains than you have gold, Weasley."

Hagrid's smile collapsed and Ron's ears turned red. Fred started toward Draco with a murderous look on his face, but seemed to freeze when Mr. Weasley's voice said suddenly, "There are many more important things than money, Mr. Malfoy."

"Unfortunately, Weasley, you have neither," said a cold, bored-sounding voice that heralded the return of Lucius Malfoy. Draco sneered as his father put a hand on his shoulder and they faced the Weasleys. Mr. Malfoy's pale eyes were glittering almost as maliciously as his son's.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Lucius," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. "I have everything that matters most: a family that loves me, and a means to provide for them."

"Provide?" Mr. Malfoy asked in mock skepticism, reaching into Ginny's cauldron and pulling out a very battered old book. "You call this providing? No, Arthur; I provide for Draco and Narcissa. You disgrace the children of your name."

It happened so fast that Harry thought Mr. Weasley must have suddenly learned to bend space-time. One second, the two men were standing feet apart; the next, Mr. Malfoy had been knocked backward as Mr. Weasley crashed into him. They both collided with the side of the brick apothecary, and then the air was full of voices.

"Father!" Draco gasped with wide gray eyes.

"Go, Dad!" Fred yelled, and then George finished exuberantly, "Get him!"

"Arthur, stop it this instant!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked as she hid Ginny's face.

Then Hagrid was upon them, pulling Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. He came rather close to choking them both by lifting them to their feet via the necks of their robes. And somehow, in the middle of all this, Severus had wound up standing beside Harry again, a perfectly unreadable expression on his face.

"We should go," the Potions Master said in a barely audible whisper.

Harry blinked and looked over; he hadn't even noticed when Severus had moved. "What?" the young wizard asked, sounding confused. "Now?"

"Yes."

"But -- but why?"

"This is not the time. Just go."

There was a hint of the old impatience in his voice, and Harry obliged, not wanting to spend the remainder of the summer holiday with the old Snape. The fireplace wasn't that far away, anyway, and at least he could look over his shoulder to see what was happening as he went.

"Quickly," Severus said in the same low whisper that he had used before. It gave Harry the impression that they were sneaking away, which just made him all the more curious. He wanted to ask more questions, but had the distinct impression that doing so might result in getting his head bitten off. As it was, Harry barely had time to steal a single glance back at the group, all of whom were looking mutinous, before floo powder was thrown into a grate and he found himself standing in the fire.

"Speak clearly this time," Severus said. "And take your glasses off, so that you don't break them."

Harry removed his glasses and tucked them away in his pocket before carefully calling out, "Spinner's End!"

When he fell out of the fireplace back at Snape's house, Harry was glad that he had taken off his glasses. At least, he was until he tripped over the threadbare rug as he tried to hurry away from the fireplace.

Picking himself up and feeling extremely foolish, Harry was glad that Severus wasn't there to see (and probably make some snide remark). But then, where was Severus, Harry wondered as he put his glasses back on. The Potions Master had certainly been in a hurry to leave Diagon Alley; shouldn't he have been right behind Harry?

It was nearly a full minute before Severus emerged from the vividly green fire. He had a distinctively sour look on his face, but managed to mask it as soon as his dark eyes found Harry. However, it wasn't quite quickly enough.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked slowly.

"Nothing is wrong," Severus said in a would-be offhand voice, brushing a bit of soot from his sleeve.

Harry frowned. "I'm not stupid, Severus. If nothing's wrong, then why were we rushing out of Diagon Alley like the place was on fire? What was that look you had on your face just now, and why did it take you so long to get back here?"

Now it was Severus's turn to frown, though admittedly his was more like an ever-so-slight narrowing of the eyes as his jaw set. Nonetheless, after a look at this expression, Harry knew that he was in trouble; he had already made Snape mad. However, Severus merely retained that expression for a moment as he stared at Harry before finally breaking the silence. Harry was quite surprised that his voice didn't sound angry.

"Lucius required a favor of me which I did not wish to carry out. It is not prudent to refuse a favor of Lucius Malfoy. I wished to leave before he could ask whether I would help him."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "But you didn't, that's why you were late. Isn't it?"

Severus nodded, and a strange look crossed Harry's face. Yes, Severus Snape was definitely very different from the man Harry had thought that he was. The question was, if he wasn't that man, then just what kind of person was he?

"So what are you doing for Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked slowly. "He doesn't seem like the type of person who would ask you to do anything.. constructive."

A familiar smirk twisted Severus's lip. "Are you asking if I intend to use Dark magic?"

"Well, yeah."

There was a silence, during which Severus continued to smirk at Harry, but yet there was something different in his black eyes. They weren't cold and empty like they had been when he had used that smirk on Harry before, though Harry couldn't tell exactly what it was that he saw in them. Perhaps amusement?

Finally, Severus said in his usual quiet but unreadable tone, "I will not. So you have nothing to worry about."

And maybe Harry was imagining it (Again? Was that likely?), but he thought certain that he saw a real smile on Severus's pallid face as the Potions Master turned away.

*~*~*

"Binns is evil," Harry complained to himself as he lay on his stomach on the bed in his room and tried his hardest to focus on the copy of A History of Magic that lay open in front of him. Why exactly did he have to write such a long essay, anyway? Hermione was probably the only student at Hogwarts who even cared about goblin rebellions -- and what did they have to do with the Ministry today, anyway? It wasn't like they had had a huge impact on the course of government, after all. The only thing you could really learn from them was that it was not a good idea to make goblins angry, and Harry had figured that out for himself the first time he had met a goblin the year before.

"Who was Bandor the Bloody, anyway?" he grumbled as he searched the lengthy text that was spread out over five chapters for a particular goblin rebel whom Binns had asked about in the assignment. It was likely that he had done nothing more important than inventing some sort of swear word for 'wizard' in Gobbledygook or something stupid like that. It certainly seemed to be the type of thing that Binns would ask about: something completely obscure that had absolutely nothing to do with the rebellion itself.

After five minutes of fruitless searching, Harry finally gave up with a disgruntled sigh and just wrote in exactly what he had imagined that Bandor the Bloody might be famous for, making up the "gurthan" for the swear word that he was supposed to have invented. From what he had heard of Gobbledygook (and probably Gobbledygook swear words, though he couldn't be certain) when Griphook had been hit in the head by a falling rock on the way back up from Harry's vault last year, it sounded about right.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry just said, "Yes?" without even looking up. He knew who it was behind the door, because Severus always knocked in exactly the same way. Harry supposed it was a strange thing to have noticed, but didn't really think about it. At the least, he would be able to tell the difference if someone else knocked on the door and, as Severus still seemed paranoid that some renegade Voldemort supporter was going to turn up at any moment, it wasn't likely that he would complain.

The door swung neatly open and, sure enough, there stood the Potions Master, standing with his usual black robes billowing about him in the draft through the doorway. "It's time for dinner," he said tonelessly as his dark eyes swept disdainfully over the mess of coursebooks and parchment that were spread out on Harry's bed.

Harry jumped as if he had been yelled at and glanced at the watch on his wrist that he had repaired after Dudley had thrown it away. "Already?" he said uncertainly as he stared at the time. "I didn't realize it was that late."

"Yes."

"All right," Harry said with a shrug, getting off of the bed and somehow managing not to knock the entire haphazardly-stacked mass of books and papers into the floor. Severus eyed the mess darkly, but said nothing. It was obvious that his idea of studying didn't quite match up with Harry's.

As the smell of stew wafted out of the kitchen and into Harry's nose, it was suddenly painfully obvious that he hadn't eaten for five hours. He didn't know how he could have ignored the growling of his stomach or what felt like the clawing of some small creature at his insides.

Dinner tasted just as good as it smelled; or maybe even better, simply because it quelled the protests from Harry's stomach. He was just beginning to wonder how Snape had ever learned to cook so well when Severus said, "Breakfast may be late tomorrow. I have work to attend to in the basement."

Harry forgot about the food as he looked at Severus in a confused sort of way. "I thought you were finished."

"I finished the antidotes for common miscalculations in the potions that the first through third years will be attempting, yes."

Harry suddenly looked suspicious. "Does it have anything to do with whatever Mr. Malfoy wanted?"

Severus's right eyebrow twitched upward slightly. Yes, the boy was certainly quite a bit brighter than he had once thought him to be. "Perhaps," he answered calmly.

The fact that Snape didn't answer clearly one way or the other just served to make Harry more suspicous. "And you're sure it's nothing bad?" he asked slowly.

Again, the eyebrow just went higher. "Are you suggesting that I lied to you?"

"No, sir," Harry answered quickly. "I just -- er, wanted to make sure, is all."

There was definitely amusement in Severus's eyes as he answered, "Then be certain. And on a different note -- perhaps we should talk about that essay you were writing back at the castle..."

"You said that Bandor the Bloody invented the curse word 'gurthan'?" Severus asked incredulously. He was staring down at the parchment, as if expecting to have misunderstood what he had read.

"Well, yeah," Harry answered, looking around shiftily. "I'm sure I read it somewhere..."

"Are you sure you didn't invent it because you didn't want to spend a few minutes searching out the real answer?" Severus asked wryly.

"Er... Well, come on! There are a hundred and thirty pages on the goblin rebellions!"

"One hundred thirty-four."

"All right, then, a hundred and thirty-four. Wait," Harry said slowly. "How do you know that?"

"I was a student at Hogwarts once, too."

"Yeah, but that must have been years ago. Professor Dumbledore said you went to school with my parents. How could you remember something like that?"

"I still have my copy of A History of Magic, Harry," Severus said as he continued to look over the parchment.

Harry gaped. "You mean, you actually read that? When you don't have to?"

There was definitely amusement in Severus's black eyes as he looked up at Harry this time. "You know, Harry," he said slowly, "it has been said that those who fail to lean history are doomed to repeat it."

"And those who fail to lean history correctly are simply doomed," Harry said with a hint of resentment in his voice. "Yeah, I know; Hermione's said."

"Then she's a smart girl."

Harry stared. Had he just heard what he thought he had? Had Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin, just complimented a Gryffindor -- a Muggleborn Gryffindor? Harry tried to catch his eye, but Severus seemed engrossed in the essay.

"Urg the Unclean," Severus repeated disbelievingly, looking from the essay to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

This time Harry really looked confused. "Wha -- but Ron said that was one," he objected.

"Then he was wrong."

Harry repressed the urge to sigh. This already had the makings of a very long day. After Severus had looked over Harry's Potions essay the night before, he had insisted on reviewing all of Harry's essays -- and picking them apart as he went. It might have been incredibly annoying, if Harry weren't so used to Hermione doing the same thing.

"How long is this going to take? Sir?"

Severus fixed Harry with a stare reminiscent of the average crocodile eyeing its prey. There was a momentary silence and then he said quietly, "As long as it takes."

"Do you really not care what kind of grades you get, Harry?" Severus asked slowly. Harry looked up to see the Potions Master gazing at him over the top of the essay. Was it his imagination, or did Severus actually look concerned?

"Well, yeah," Harry admitted, "but I'm no good at History of Magic. Nobody but Hermione can stay conscious in Binns's class, it's impossible."

There was a flicker of amusement in Severus's black eyes as he asked, "And did it never occur to you to read A History of Magic?"

"I did!" Harry objected. "Well.. most of it. But that's not the point, it's almost as boring as Binns. There's just a lot of fact, it's not interesting..."

"Then make it interesting."

Harry stared. "What do you mean? How can you make that stuff interesting?"

Severus put the essay down at last and fixed his gaze fully on Harry. "If you look at it all as assigned work that you have to do and know that it's going to be boring ahead of time, then you could have the best professor in the world and not learn anything."

"So how am I supposed to find anything that Binns says interesting?"

"You do realize, Harry, that not everything is black and white? You don't have to love history, just find the interesting parts of it. If you can do that, you will be able to read through it and keep at least those details in mind. Then, before you know it, you'll learn to find something interesting in even the somewhat -- duller historical records. And if you can find something interesting in every chapter, then you will remember details of every chapter."

"That's easy for you to say," Harry grumbled. "You don't have to care about history if you don't want to."

"But I do," Severus said honestly. "A lot of the novels and even the music out there today finds its roots in history. Doesn't that tell you that other people have found the value of their history?"

Harry frowned and fell silent. He had to admit that Severus had a point -- but, of course, he wasn't going to tell the Potions Master that.

*~*~*

"You're still not finished with that -- well, whatever?" Harry asked exasperatedly at dinner three days later.

"No," Severus said simply, placing his fork down on his plate. Two weeks ago, he would have had a long and lengthy, and probably none too polite, answer ready for a question such as that, particularly if it came from Harry Potter. And yet, somehow, the tone of Harry's voice didn't make Severus angry at all. A little exasperated the the boy still hadn't learned proper respect, yes; but not angry. And, if he had been thinking about it, he would have realized what a great change that was. At the moment, however, he wasn't -- which was, if anything, an even greater proof of the progress that had come about in such a short time.

"Why is it taking so long?" Harry asked.

"If you are still trying to make me tell you what it is that I'm doing, you're wasting your breath, Harry."

"Why?" Harry asked again. "Did you tell Mr. Malfoy that you wouldn't tell me? Or do you just not want to?"

"Do you never run out of questions?" Severus asked, but there was no anger in his voice as there might have been a few days before. "It seems that you never tire of beseiging me with pointless inquiries. You know that I will not tell you, so therefore it should not matter what my motives are."

"Of course it does. I want to know why you won't tell me anything so I'll know whether it's you who don't trust me or just Mr. Malfoy."

"Harry, just because I don't tell you something doesn't mean that I don't trust you."

"Then what, exactly, is it supposed to mean? Why else would you not tell me?"

Severus's eyes looked weary as he gazed at Harry now. "You still refuse to understand," he said quietly. "There are things that are too important to tell everyone, and many of these are dangerous. You are twelve years old, Harry, you cannot expect to be told everything."

Now it was Harry's turn to look exasperated. Why did everyone insist in keeping him in the dark just because he wasn't of age? Severus was acting like whatever he was doing didn't affect Harry at all, just like Dumbledore had when he had refused to answer Harry's question in the hospital wing last year. But, there wasn't really anything he could do about either of those facts at the moment. Nothing except concede defeat... for the moment, anyway.

"All right," Harry said at last, picking up his fork and spearing a carrot. "I'll stop asking." He noticed the skeptical look in Severus's eyes and said wearily, "I promise, okay? I'll quit bothering you about it. It doesn't do any good, anyway."

And he was too busy stabbing moodily at the carrot pieces to notice that the corner of Severus's mouth twitched as he picked up his own fork to continue eating.

*~*~*

Harry should really have been used to these dreams about the Dursleys by now, but somehow they always caught him off guard. At least he could take some solace in the fact that he wasn't yelling in his sleep anymore. It had been incredibly embarrassing to have Severus come running in that time before, even if it had somehow been oddly comforting to know that there was someone out there -- even if Harry had thought that Severus hated his guts at the time -- who cared about what happened to him.

And so as Harry woke up with his hair sticking to his forehead and was quite surprised for a moment to find himself somewhere that wasn't Privet Drive, he sighed wearily and sat up, trying to sort out his thoughts. This had to stop eventually, or it would drive him crazy. He couldn't keep thinking that he was going back to the Dursleys and all but having a heart attack every night. Although he doubted that he would be going to sleep any time soon, so he might as well get something to drink since his mouth felt about as moist as the average desert just then.

Heaving a sigh, Harry sat up in bed and reached for his glasses. By now, he was finally used to finding them in Severus's house, but it took him a moment to find them nonetheless. Maybe he was thrown off because he kept expecting to see Vernon Dursley burst through the door and find that he had never really left Privet Drive to start with. He wanted to turn the light on, more to convince himself that he wasn't still in Privet Drive than anything, but decided against it. If he turned it on, he ran the risk of awaking Severus, who was apparently a light sleeper, and then that would be almost as bad as having him come in and almost knock the door down.

So Harry just felt his way along the wall, opened the door as silently as he could, and prayed that he wouldn't wind up falling down the stairs, which was still a great possibility. After all, it had taken him a month to get used to sneaking out of the bedroom in Privet Drive. Of course, part of that had been because he had to remember which step had the squeak in it, but it was the point of the thing.

He managed to reach the bottom of the stairs without tumbling down them, and from there on it was an easy matter to find the kitchen; he just had to follow the rows of bookshelves. But, as he pushed the door open, he found that he was no longer in the dark; there was a thin beam of bright, neon yellow light snaking across the kitchen. At first, his heart leapt and he thought that Severus was down here; but no, because Harry had heard the Potions Master come upstairs hours before. So, what was this light, then?

Upon closer inspection, Harry realized that the light was coming from a crack in the wall. No, it wasn't in the wall -- it was the door! The door leading downstairs, to the basement, where Severus had been doing whatever he was doing for Lucius Malfoy. Harry's curiosity got the better of him, and he pushed the door open wider. It wasn't like he had actually opened the door, after all.

But, unfortunately, he couldn't see any more looking down from the head of the stairs than he could with the door closed: just that bright yellow glow. What could it be!? The thought was driving Harry mad. He wanted to know what Severus was doing down there, and he also didn't want to make him angry.. but, at the moment, Severus was upstairs, asleep, probably more soundly than usual because he had had so little sleep lately...

After a short pause, Harry moved. Not away from the door, as his brain kept telling him to do, but down the stairs, as his curiosity was urging. He carefully tested each step before putting his weight onto it, tested the thin railing with his hand, making certain that he wouldn't fall, that he would make no sound to give away what he was doing...

And then, at the foot of the stairs, Harry could at last see where the light was coming from: a silver cauldron, hanging over a small fire. Inside the cauldron there was some sort of potion, a potion that was glowing yellow and giving off a fine silver steam that was snaking its way around the room. Somehow it looked both beautiful and menacing at the same time, though for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out why.

Suddenly, as he was debating taking a step closer to check if he could see the bottom of the cauldron, there was a hissing noise and the potion suddenly began to bubble furiously, turning a poisonous-looking green reminiscent of acid. It looked at the same time as thick as mud and as light as air, and the steam that it was giving off turned green, as well, and Harry was sure that, if the cauldron weren't giving off so much light, it would have glowed in the dark.

This sudden change startled Harry, who suddenly began to wonder if his appearance had somehow triggered it. He turned and hurried back up the stairs as quickly as possible, and yet trying his best not to make any noise. His idea of getting a drink completely forgotten, he didn't stop until he was back in his room with the door safely closed.

What was that potion, the potion that Severus had been so desperate to hide from him? It couldn't be anything good, Harry could tell just by the look of it. And, he suddenly realized, there was one person who he could ask who wouldn't stop until the potion was identified, just because she hated not knowing something. And so he finally switched on the lamp, since this time he had no intention of opening the door, and sat down at the desk. Picking up a quill and dipping it hurriedly into an inkpot, he began to write while his memory was still fresh.

By morning, Harry was doubtful about his decision to go snooping the night before, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment. He had already done it, and he had already sent the letter to Hermione asking her about it. And in the back of his mind, there was still that voice that said nastily, "If Severus won't tell me, then I'll find out from Hermione." Because Harry had no doubts at all that Hermione would be able to tell him what the strange potion in the silver cauldron was.

And yet, the next day, all he got was a very angry letter from Hermione, telling him that he shouldn't have been looking around where he shouldn't have been in the first place, and what if Snape had caught him!? But she admitted at last (after a foot and a half's length of parchment spent telling him all the things that could have gone wrong) that the potion didn't sound like anything good at all and that she would try to find out what it was if she could. Harry was slightly disappointed that Hermione hadn't known what was in the cauldron upon getting the letter, but knew that she would figure it out soon.

However, as the days went on and no letter came from Hermione, Harry begin to wonder if she would figure it out at all. Really, when had Hermione become so unreliable? She was supposed to know everything immediately, she always had! It was only now that Harry began to realize how very much he had counted on that. He was dying to know what the potion was, but he wasn't about to make another trip down to the basement, either.

Needless to say, Harry was quite taken off guard when Severus looked over at him across the table one day and asked if he had all of his things packed yet.

Harry blinked and tried not to look suspicious, but was completely taken off guard. Had Severus found out about the cauldron? Was he angry? Was he wanting to send Harry away?

"Tomorrow is September the first," Severus elaborated after a moment's pause. Had it really only been a short moment? Somehow, to Harry, it had seemed like at least five minutes. Nonetheless, a wave of mingled relief and shock washed over him. Severus hadn't figured it out, but.. how could he possibly have forgotten the date!?

"Oh, right!" Harry said, unable to hide his surprise. "I guess I.. forgot."

A slight crease appeared between Severus's eyebrows, but at the same time, the corner of his lip curled. It was definitely a curious expression -- mingled confusion and amusement -- but it was nothing to the myriad of emotion on Harry's face: relief, surprise, bewilderment, embarrassment, and even a hint of regret. Really, it was a small wonder that Severus didn't find it suspicious.. or perhaps he did and was simply more adept at hiding it than Harry.

"You.. forgot," Severus repeated slowly.

"I guess so," Harry said uncomfortably. "I didn't realize it was time to go to Hogwarts already."

A strange look entered Severus's black eyes at that, but his voice was level and betrayed nothing of his thoughts as he said, "I see. Well, you should probably begin packing when you finish eating, then. Knowing you, it will probably take that long to get everything together."

The corners of his mouth twitched, and Harry looked back down at his plate and tried to eat, fighting a smile, too. When had Severus Snape started making jokes, anyway? Was it that day they had gone to Longriver Court? Or had he always done it, and Harry had just never caught on before? He did remember wondering if Severus had intended to make a joke when he had first showed Harry through the house. It certainly seemed very unlike Severus. But then again, it wasn't very much like Harry to forget about going back to Hogwarts, either.

Somehow, he hadn't really thought about going back to Hogwarts since Dumbledore had said that Harry wasn't expelled. Well, there was that brief moment, right after he had come to Spinner's End, when he had thought that Severus was angry at him; but that somehow seemed like a distant memory already, after all the events of the summer. And now, Harry didn't know what to think.

Of course, he wanted to go back -- Hogwarts was his home, the place he really belonged -- but yet, no matter what Severus had said before, Harry couldn't help wondering if things would change. Or, more specifically, if they would go back to the way they were before.

It was probably at that point when Harry first realized just how different things were from the year before. By this time last year, he was so anxious to get away from the Dursleys that he could hardly do anything but count down the hours; the Dursleys were busy thinking he was crazy for talking about Platform Nine and Three-Quarters; and Harry was soon to find out that the Potions Master at Hogwarts detested him.

At least, Harry had always thought he did.

So what about now? It was.. well, bizarre to think that he hadn't been miserable this summer -- or for the last three weeks of the summer, anyway. He had found out a lot about the magical world and even more about himself, and especially about his parents.

But yet, Harry still wasn't sure if that would remain the same after they went back to Hogwarts. Once they were back, Severus would probably be putting on that act for the Slytherins again, like he had done with Lucius Malfoy that day in Diagon Alley. And if he did that, he would have to be horrible to Harry again, just because that was what they expected. Or maybe just because it was an old habit.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Severus looking at him strangely, a crease between his black eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"

For the briefest of moments, Harry debated saying something about it. But, really, what had he expected? It was better just to say nothing, and so he simply shook his head and murmured something along the lines of "Just thinking" before going back to his lunch.

*~*~*

Reluctant though Harry was to admit it, Severus's observation was probably true. It would take a very long time to get everything that had been scattered out of the trunk in the past three weeks back together and packed in any sort of reasonable order -- and, to put it lightly, Harry wasn't looking forward to it.

Why did he need all of these books, anyway, Harry wondered as he stacked them together to one side of the trunk. Surely there must be copies of them in the library at Hogwarts; they were coursebooks, after all. It wasn't like he would ever use them after he left school, anyway.

Casting a last glare at the books, Harry moved on to potions ingredients. He really should alphabetize them so that he could find what he was looking for without searching forever, but.. well, frankly, taking the time to alphabetize them sounded like a waste of time at the moment, too. Hermione would probably have a heart attack just from seeing that Harry had actually managed to keep his supplies together this year.

With a sigh, he looked down at the assortment of broken quills and crumpled parchment at the bottom of the trunk. If the stupid thing weren't so heavy, he could just empty it into the rubbish bin. Maybe he should just leave it that way and ask Hermione about a spell to empty the bottom of his trunk after he got to Hogwarts.

Shrugging, he decided that would probably be the best -- and easiest -- option, and glanced at his watch. It was almost time for dinner already! How had time already passed so quickly? Harry had always thought the expression went something like 'Time flies when you're having fun,' not 'Time flies when you're trying to get all of your stuff ordered properly so that you can go away to magical school.' And, regardless of what a good time he always had at Hogwarts, Harry certainly didn't find cleaning and packing to be fun at all.

It wasn't until after Harry had eaten and hurried back upstairs to try to get everything stuffed inside his trunk that he started to clear out the wardrobe. Honestly, he would rather have burned Dudley's old clothes than packed them, but he didn't know what else to do with them. He couldn't leave them here, because he probably wouldn't be coming back. So it was with a disdainful look that he grabbed the last armful of oversized clothes and turned back to the trunk.

At least, he tried to; but the sleeve of a horrible green-and-brown sweater was caught on something. Frowning, Harry jerked on it -- and the back of the wardrobe came flying out and hit him in the chest, knocking him back half a step and making him drop the armful of clothes.

Harry blinked once, as if taking a moment to convince himself that this had actually just happened, and then straightened up slowly and looked at the piece of the wardrobe that lay on the floor. He had broken it!? But how?

He stooped to pick up the piece of wood and frowned. It was perfectly square, each side about a foot long, and the edges were smooth. But he couldn't have broken it off completely smooth! And it was then that he looked back at the wardrobe itself and noticed that he couldn't see the wall behind it. So maybe he hadn't broken a piece off the back of the wardrobe at all.

Upon closer inspection, Harry was surprised to find that the piece of wood had come from the wardrobe, but that it was just a false back. There was a compartment behind what appeared to be the back of the wardrobe, and a fairly sizeable compartment at that.

Harry's curiosity was instantly sparked again. A secret compartment in the wardrobe! It sounded like some mystery story, like one of the ones that Aunt Petunia had used to watch on TV when it was too hot out to spy on the neighbors. Harry wished briefly for a flashlight, then that he was allowed to use Lumos outside of Hogwarts, but finally just reached into the compartment to see if there was anything there.

At first, he thought it was empty; all he felt was the cool wood grain in every direction. Then, in one corner, his fingers touched what felt like a folded piece of paper.

Upon retrieving it, Harry realized that it wasn't paper at all, but parchment. So whatever it was, wizards had something to do with it. For a moment, he just looked down at it and wondered if he should open it. He didn't even know whose it could be. But finally (as per usual), his curiosity got the better of him.

Harry didn't recognize the handwriting, but it was definitely written with a quill by someone who knew Severus.

Harry suddenly thought he knew who this letter was from and really began to wonder if he should be reading it, but he couldn't make himself stop reading now.

Yes, definitely Aunt Petunia. It was even the same cover story that had been given to the neighbors for Harry's sudden disappearance to Hogwarts.

Harry blinked and stared at the letter. Bandor.. the Bloody. That was the same goblin Harry himself had been asked to write about in his History of Magic essay. Did that mean that this letter was written after his mother's first year? It was oddly amusing to think that Binns was still giving out the same assignment after all these years, but at the same time, the letter brought up a strange feeling that Harry couldn't name. He didn't know what it was, just that it confused him.

After a short pause, Harry folded the parchment carefully and put it back into the compartment, then fitted the door into the false back of the wardrobe carefully. Yes, this was definitely the proof that Severus's story was true.. but somehow, Harry thought as he picked up the clothes he had dropped earlier and shoved them into his trunk, finding the letter had just made him feel more uncomfortable about the whole situation.

*~*~*

Breakfast was more of a hurried matter the next day. Harry realized halfway through his pancakes that he had forgotten to pack his telescope and the writing utensils that he had left on the desk beside it, and Severus kept listing potions and ingredients and books under his breath that he had to have at Hogwarts to be sure that he hadn't forgotten anything. Really, it was a little amusing, Harry thought, to hear the Potions Master muttering about roots and herbs; he had never thought that Severus was the type to talk to himself.

Then there was the matter of Hedwig. When Harry went upstairs to try to find space for the telescope, ink pot, quill, and parchment, he realized that the snowy owl had yet to come back from hunting. And it was already eight-thirty!

Okay, it was a little early yet to panic, Harry thought as he forced himself to stay calm and do his best to fit the items he had forgotten into his already overstuffed trunk. Hedwig sometimes didn't come back until later, and there was still time.

But by the time Severus came to ask if Harry was ready to leave, Hedwig still hadn't returned and Harry was frantic. Fortunately, just as Severus had finally calmed Harry down a little and was about to suggest that they go ahead to King's Cross and he would come back for the owl when he got his things, Hedwig flew in through the open window.

Harry was relieved and quickly locked the owl in her cage, much to her disdain, and Severus hurriedly levitated the trunk down the stairs while Harry followed with Hedwig. As they came through the door hidden behind the bookcase, Severus glanced at the clock; it was late, much later than he would have liked to leave, but they still had time...

"Where are your things?" Harry queried as Severus made for the front door.

"I'm not going on the train," Severus explained as he dropped the trunk onto the ground. "I must leave immediately after getting you to the Platform, and be at Hogwarts before the students arrive. I'll come back here for my things and then Apparate to the school."

Harry didn't ask what Apparition was, just looked around for a car or some other sort of Muggle transportation. Surely they couldn't be taking a Portkey to King's Cross Station!?

Yet that seemed to be exactly what they were doing, because Severus chose another piece of debris from the ground and cast Portus. Harry didn't question him, but Severus caught the look on the young wizard's face.

"There is a designated spot for Apparition and Portkeys in a cloaked empty lot not far from the station," he explained, motioning for Harry to come over and bring Hedwig's cage. "It's bewitched so that Muggles can't see it. Mainly for those who live far away, but it's convenient for those who get a late start, as well."

Harry nodded, still wondering what Apparition could be, and held on tightly to Hedwig's cage as Severus caught hold of the trunk. They disappeared in that familiar swirl of color, and Harry was quite proud of himself for not falling over when his feet slammed into the ground this time.

It looked like an ordinary unoccupied lot, except that there was none of the usual Muggle rubbish strewn around; instead, there were several random objects which seemed to have been used as Portkeys, a few of which were clearly magic-related. Harry didn't have long to look, however, because Severus quickly set off at a brisk pace down the sidewalk and Harry nearly had to run to keep up.

"Is it far? Sir?" Harry asked as he hurried along.

"Not too far," Severus said, but he still looked grimly at every clock they passed along the way.

It was five minutes to eleven when they finally made it to King's Cross, and the Weasleys were piling out of a blue Ford Anglia at just the same time. Harry raised his eyebrows at the car, but Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Harry guessed this was the bewitched car Ron had mentioned, and flying wasn't the only thing it had been charmed to do.

"How'd you end up as late as us?" Ron asked as Harry caught up to them.

"Hedwig came back late from hunting," Harry explained a little breathlessly, more from the walk than from excitement for once. "Couldn't leave her..."

"I'll leave you with the Weasleys, then," Severus put in as he loaded Harry's trunk onto a cart. "I am expected at Hogwarts by the time the train leaves."

Harry nodded his agreeance, and Severus set off in the opposite direction while Harry and the red-headed family dashed for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Mrs. Weasley directed them all toward it in pairs, then finally grabbed Ginny's hand and took her through. Harry and Ron were last, but when they tried to go through --

CRASH! Both carts bounced off the now very solid wall, Hedwig's cage went flying, and everyone within twenty yards stopped to stare.

Harry lied about losing control of the trolley, then collected Hedwig in her cage and hurried off to a safe distance with Ron.

"What's going on!?" Harry hissed in a barely-audible whisper, pretending he didn't notice all the people who were still gawking at them.

"I don't know," Ron answered, his terrified gaze switching between the barrier and the clock and back again. "The barrier shouldn't have sealed itself!"

"Maybe it seals.. a minute before eleven?" Harry asked fearfully, looking at the clock.

"But it can't, it's not supposed to!"

"The train leaves at eleven exactly," Harry whispered, watching the clock tick closer. Ten.. nine.. eight...

Frantic, Ron dashed over and pressed against the barrier, but somehow Harry knew it wouldn't work. Anyway, it was too late now...

"The train's gone," Ron declared miserably, coming back. "We've missed it, Harry, we missed the train --"

"I know, I know," Harry said, locking a hand in his hair and pacing back and forth. "Okay, let me think..."

"Think faster, people are staring..."

"I don't know," Harry said at last, resisting the urge to stomp his foot like a frustrated four-year-old. "Your parents are on the platform, Severus is at Hogwarts by now, everybody here are Muggles..."

Suddenly Ron's face lit up. "Hey, Harry.. you know how I was talking about Fred and George wanting to come and get you?"

Harry blinked, completely confused as to what this had to do with the current predicament. "Yeah..."

"The car!"

This time Harry was sure Ron had lost his mind. "What are you talking about?"

"The car, Harry," Ron whispered, giving the Muggles a sideways glance to be sure they weren't eavesdropping. "The car can fly..."

*~*~*

It was five o'clock, and Severus was sitting in his office at Hogwarts and mentally preparing himself for the upcoming school year. Another year of teaching witless wonders who couldn't care less about the fine subleties of Potionmaking. It almost made him want to sigh.

He nearly did sigh, too, as he got up and began the walk upstairs. There wouldn't be any dinner in the Great Hall until the feast, but the Evening Prophet should be arriving soon, and at least it might serve to distract him from the perils of educating a new flock of eleven-year-olds who would likely have no talent for the subject.

And distract him it did, but not in the way he had hoped. Upon paying the owl and looking at the front page of the paper, his eyes widened and he had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping.

Severus reread the article again, and then again after that. It did seem to be heading for Hogwarts, and it did match the description of the Weasleys' old blue automobile. It must have one of the Weasleys inside. But it couldn't be their youngest son, and there was no way that Harry would go with him...

And yet Severus tucked the paper into his cloak before heading out toward the gates, where he could Apparate to Hogsmeade Station. He needn't wait for the carriages to reach Hogwarts to find out if Harry was on the train or not, and he wanted to know.

Most of the school had already passed by, toward the carriages -- a few pausing along the way to case fearful or suspicious or just plain inquisitive glances -- before Severus saw the person he had been looking for: Hermione Granger. There she was, the same bushy-haired, big-toothed know-it-all she had been last year; and neither Ron nor Harry was anywhere nearby.

Of course, Severus could have gone over and talked to her. He could have waited for the train to empty completely and roll away, belching smoke. He could have done many things, but he just turned on his heel and was gone with a swish of his cloak.

Hermione caught a moment's glance of a very angry-looking Potions Master as she left the train with Parvati, Padma, Lavender, and Neville. For a second, she didn't realize what she had seen; then she looked back to the place where he had been standing, but there was no one there. Were it not for the fact that Ron and Harry were nowhere to be found, she would have been sure that she was imagining things.

-----

Severus didn't go back to the Great Hall. If he had, he would probably have cursed (or poisoned, more likely) Gilderoy Lockhart the first time the man opened his mouth. Of course, it would have been rather entertaining (and he doubted many of the staff would really mind), but not very prudent.

So, what else was there for him to do but take a walk? He couldn't very well go wandering around the castle (it was far too noisy in there, anyway), so he set off about the grounds. It did have rather a calming effect, at first.. until the thought struck him that the Ford Anglia should be arriving soon, and he began to wonder just where it would land.

Just why was he so angry, anyway? He had said all along that Harry was just like James -- and a stunt like this was definitely worthy of James Potter. Ron Weasley even had the makings of the next Sirius Black, though hopefully he would turn out to be more faithful than Black had been.

Severus paused, then. Why should he care, anyway, if Weasley did someday turn traitor, like Black had before him? James Potter was arrogant, overconfident, self-righteous -- he had put too much faith in one person, practically begged to be betrayed. He had deserved what he got.

... But yet Severus did care. How could that be? He hadn't cared last year... or not really. He had protected the boy, of course, but that was only for Lily. It was what she would have done, what she would have wanted. But it wasn't Lily he was thinking about now, and he couldn't quite comprehend that yet. Had his manner of thinking really shifted so much in the past few weeks that he was... disappointed that Harry would do something so irresponsible, so -- so stupid? It seemed to be the only logical conclusion; and, whatever Severus wasn't sure about, he was sure of logic. It had never failed him.

Or had it? It wasn't logical for him to think this way. It wasn't logical for his hatred of James Potter to suddenly be thrust aside, as if it were of no consequence.

His musings were interrupted by a sudden, loud crashing from the other side of the castle. It was impossible, Severus told himself; there was no way that was what it had sounded like. And yet his feet flew as he headed for the front lawn, his mouth a grim line and his black eyes hard. A crash... that had definitely been a crash...

And Severus tried to ignore the fact that his heart picked up the pace at a rate not entirely proportional to the effort it was taking to run. However, this was complicated by the fact that he was also attempting to silence the voice in the back of his head that was thinking that crashes meant destruction and destruction all too often meant injury, or worse.

-----

"My wand," Ron whimpered as he picked himself up off the ground.

"The car," Harry added with wide eyes as he watched the Ford Anglia head off into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.

"My wand and the car," Ron amended, looking like he might be sick. "Mum's gonna kill me!"

Harry froze, then. It wasn't the thought of Mrs. Weasley that had stunned him into silence, but the fact that it wasn't the Dursleys he had first thought of when considering the prospect of who might kill him for this. What in the world was wrong with him, anyway?

Ron was ranting about the many ways his mother would torture him (a list including everything from taking away his Chudley Cannons memorabilia to making him drop out of school) when Harry finally snapped out of it, picked up the end of his trunk that he could actually lift, and said, "We should get out of here."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Maybe if we wait outside the Great Hall, nobody will notice we weren't there?"

"Of course they will, nobody will have seen us on the train," Harry went on, new beads of perspiration breaking out on his forehead as he tried to think of a good explanation. "Anyway, they'll see the tree and the tire marks... Oh, man, we're dead..."

"We're not dead yet," Ron said suddenly. "Maybe we could say it wasn't us. Maybe we could blame it on Fred and George somehow, Mum'd never believe them..."

"They're your brothers, and they didn't do anything," Harry disagreed. "We can't blame them."

"Harry, they live to get in trouble! They'd probably love to say they were responsible for something like this!"

"Let's just try to think of some way out of this that doesn't involve getting your brothers expelled."

"The truth would be a good start," a cold voice interrupted. Both boys froze, and Harry's blood ran cold. He hadn't heard footsteps, this time. Had he been too distracted, his heartbeat too loud in his ears, or was actual effort being put into their silence again?

There was no disguising the guilty look on Harry's face as he and Ron slowly turned -- just as there was no hiding the fear in Ron's gaze and no masking the cold fury in Severus's black eyes. His voice was that chilling, expressionless tone again when he spoke. Harry wasn't sure what scared him more, the fact that the potions master sounded so lethal... or the fact that he had almost forgotten what that tone sounded like until now.

"Where.. have you been?" Severus all but hissed, his voice a low whisper and his eyes narrowed to black slits.

Ron swallowed hard and looked sideways at Harry, perhaps expecting his best friend to pull something out of his hat or maybe just talk to the professor he had spent half the summer with. Harry, however, seemed to have something stuck in his throat, because he couldn't make his voice work and he couldn't avert his gaze. It didn't matter much, though, because Severus didn't really pause long enough to give either of them time to answer, anyway.

"Perhaps I should guess? Not that there's much room for drawing conclusions, with considerable damage to the Whomping Willow and tire tracks leading into the forest. Where did you get the car!?"

"Wh-what c-car, sir?" Ron lied pathetically.

Severus's eyes flashed dangerously as he clarified in a voice of deadly quiet, "The flying blue Ford Anglia."

Ron gaped. "You can tell all that from tire tracks!?"

"No, I can tell all that from this!" Severus snapped, pulling the Evening Prophet from his robes and holding it up where they could see the front page headline. Ron's jaw seemed stuck in the open position, and his eyes were close to bugging out of his head. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't sure whether to stare at the newspaper or at Severus, so he settled for looking back and forth between them with cold dread flooding his veins.

"We -- but we -- we were careful," Ron objected, more than a little pathetically with the evidence of their carelessness displayed before his eyes.

"You were seen," Severus spat, shaking the paper emphatically. "By Muggles! At least a half dozen, that we know of!" The disgust in his eyes switched to frustration and lack of understanding as his gaze flickered over to Harry's face, instead. "What.. were you thinking?"

Harry found himself suddenly unable to meet Severus's gaze, and so he was staring at his shoes as he objected feebly, "The barrier... sealed itself.. before we could go through... and we missed the train.. and we didn't know.. what else to do..."

"Did you try waiting for Molly and Arthur Weasley to return?" Severus demanded in response, in a tone as if this was the most obvious thing in the world... and really, Harry thought with his heart sinking, it probably should have been. "Did you try to send your owl to them? To the Ministry? To Hogwarts?"

"Uh -- w-well, we -- uh... Not... exactly," Ron admitted after much stammering.

"So the first thing your minds jumped to was hijacking a flying car and crashing it into a priceless tree," Severus hissed.

"Well, we didn't plan on crashing it into the tree," Ron pointed out. "Anyway, that tree hit us back! It --"

"That tree is a Whomping Willow," Severus growled. "That is its instinctive response to anything it views as a threat -- and certainly to things that fall out of the sky and slam into it!"

"It was an accident, I swear!" Ron added, looking fearful. "Harry, tell him it was an accident!"

"It was a severe breach of the Statute of Secrecy... and an incredibly stupid thing to do," Severus ground out through clenched teeth. Harry's mouth remained shut tightly, his eyes still locked on the laces of his sneakers. Of course, Severus was right. It was very, very stupid. How could they possibly have overlooked such obvious things as sending an owl? And yet, it was the only thing that made sense, looking back at it...

"What's going on here?" another voice demanded, this one low and hateful and incredibly annoyed. "There should be no loitering on the castle steps, you -- oh, Professor Snape! Teaching these ingrates a lesson for sneaking out of the feast, are you?"

Argus Filch sneered at them from where he stood between the huge double doors, his cat, Mrs. Norris, curling around his ankles. Both were very obviously gloating at the idea of students getting into trouble for something so early in the school year.

Severus didn't answer, just switched his gaze to the caretaker and ordered, "Filch, go into the Great Hall and tell Professor Dumbledore that I have found Potter and Weasley. He can find us in my office, we are going there now."

Filch nodded gleefully and hurried off toward the Great Hall. You could almost hear him thinking that, if the headmaster was involved, someone might be getting expelled tonight. Severus, on the other hand, maintained the same expression before, but his voice was louder than earlier as he went on, "You two -- come."

Ron gulped and nearly whimpered, but followed without a word as Severus turned on his heel and stalked through the doors and down the path to the dungeons. Harry was silent as he trailed behind them both, a strange sort of dead weight settling into his stomach and making him feel, if it were possible, even worse. So things were going to go back to the way they were before the summer, then.

Because Severus had called him Potter.

-----

The potions master and the two Gryffindors had barely reached the room whose walls were lined with pickling jars when Albus Dumbledore himself had walked in -- followed closely by the Head of Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall. Much to his displeasure, McGonagall had asked Severus to leave, and Dumbledore had gently requested that he comply. Though he did go up to the Great Hall, Severus found quickly that he had no appetite, and merely glowered darkly at whomever had the misfortune of addressing him until McGonagall resumed her usual seat a long twenty minutes later.

She had not expelled Harry Potter or Ron Weasley, she informed him, undoubtedly expecting him to be disappointed by this news. However, Severus felt strangely relieved to hear it, for reasons which he himself could not fathom. The only good thing about the whole matter was that his lack of visible reaction had puzzled and annoyed McGonagall, who had pursed her lips and resumed picking at her now quite cold turkey.

However, it frustrated Severus, as well, that he could no longer understand his own thoughts and reactions. Just how drastically had his perceptions been altered during three short weeks with Harry Potter in his company? The boy was obviously still the same -- thoughtless, naive, quick to jump to conclusions or do something rash -- so it could only be Severus who had changed. Perhaps he could make more sense of things once he had a chance to actually hear Harry's side of the story, now that he had gotten over the initial shock of it all.

By the time Severus returned to his office, it was empty. After disposing of the ever-filling plate of sandwiches and goblets of pumpkin juice, he stood in front of the grate and stared into the fire, deep in thought. Perhaps, he thought after a while, he had been wrong. Perhaps he had been wrong for all these years, and Harry, twelve-year-old Harry who always seemed so prone to making stupid decisions and overlooking the obvious, was really right.

Perhaps Severus had been wrongly passing on his hatred of James to Harry. However, that view seemed to have been damaged over the summer; whether Harry realized it or not, Severus's reaction had come, not from hatred, but from worry -- something Severus himself wasn't sure he was ready to admit. But, supposing that he accepted that... what would it change?

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asked worriedly for about the thousandth time as they all sat down to breakfast at the Gryffindor table.

“I’m fine, Hermione,” Harry lied, making himself sound exasperated at the repetition of the same question so maybe she wouldn’t notice the deception. Apparently it worked because she made that huffy sound Hermione made when she was offended and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like it included the word ‘boys.’

Of course, Hermione was right and Harry was in no way okay. At breakfast the previous morning, a bright red envelope called a Howler had arrived from Ron’s mum, and her voice had screamed out of it for the entire Hall to hear about how irresponsible and stupid taking the car had been. Stupid—that was the same thing Severus had called it, Harry realized as he stabbed a sausage with far more malice than was technically necessary. No, that was what Snape had called it, he amended mentally. If Harry was back to being ‘Potter,’ any right he had gained over the summer to using the Potions master’s first name had obviously been revoked, as well.

“At least you didn’t get a Howler,” Ron said consolingly. When actual empathy failed, he grinned and tried to joke instead, “Although, a couple of the girls in class might send you one now after you got another photo taken with Lockhart yesterday…”

“Lockhart can bugger off,” Harry grumbled moodily. But it was hard for even Lockhart to distract him from the fact that Ron’s dad was facing an inquiry at work, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office of the Ministry of Magic, because they had taken the car. It was stupid, Harry had to admit it, especially with Severus’s voice in his head repeating all the more logical options they could have tried before doing something so rash and un-thought-out as stealing an enchanted car. Then again, thinking things out before doing them was Hermione’s department, and she hadn’t been there or she probably would have stopped them.

“Well, you’re in a fit state for potions today,” Ron muttered, shoving half a waffle into his mouth.

“Oh,” Hermione said, looking at Harry with the air of someone who had just realized why two and two made four. “Snape was angry, wasn’t he?”

“Pretty much as angry as Mum, only in that quiet way that makes you think he might poison your pumpkin juice,” Ron managed to get out in a muffled voice.

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, glancing at Harry as if to gauge his reaction.

“What?” Ron asked, oblivious. “It’s not like he wouldn’t know how…”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Harry said, shoving the last sausage in his mouth and grabbing his bag off the floor, then heading off toward the dungeons without another word. Ron looked at Hermione in confusion, and she just made an exasperated sound that sounded like she wondered just how thick he could be before hurrying to catch up with Harry.

Harry led the way toward the far corner of the room, where he put down his things by the very last cauldron. Ron joined him, and Hermione hovered nearby looking as if she still wasn’t really convinced nothing was wrong, but that she wasn’t about to let that interfere with her schoolwork.

Naturally, the next person into the dungeon was Malfoy.

“Well, well; look who didn’t realize over the summer they were in over their heads and decided to show up again this year anyway,” he drawled as he took a seat in the middle of the room, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him on either side.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Ron snapped, pulling his book out of his bag and slamming it down on the table. You could almost see him picturing Malfoy’s face underneath it.

“Have a good summer then, Potter?” Malfoy leered as if he hadn’t even noticed Ron. “Spend some quality time with Mummy and D—ohh…”

Ron started to stand up. “You little…”

“Quiet,” a voice warned impatiently as Severus emerged from the shadows by his office and swept his gaze across the still half-empty dungeon. His eyes locked with Harry’s last, but they were as black and fathomless as ever. Harry could take a little comfort in that, he decided; at least they weren’t full of spite. For some reason he didn’t quite understand, it hit him at that moment that emotionlessness was far better than hatred. He was all too used to the looks of enmity, but he realized suddenly that over the summer, he had come to hope that they wouldn’t be aimed at him again.

“I had thought that bickering like petulant children should be behind you by your second year at this school,” Severus continued, looking daggers at Ron as he did so. “If not, perhaps you should get back on the train until you learn to act like wizards and not quarreling kelpies. Now, assuming you have not destroyed your textbooks over the summer, turn to page one hundred and twelve and someone do tell me the properties of valerian sprigs and their subsequent use in a basic sleeping draught… You.”

A stunned Dean Thomas stopped dead in the entranceway so quickly that Seamus Finnigan walked into him and both nearly stumbled into Pansy Parkinson, who shot them a poisonous look but continued haughtily to her seat. Dean cleared his throat and managed, “Me, sir?”

“Yes, you, Thomas,” Severus said impatiently, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I’m waiting.”

Dean coughed again. “I—I didn’t hear the question, sir.”

“I thought not,” Severus seemed to muse, one long finger tapping his desk as if in deep thought. “Now, which of you decided that an extra pastry was worth being late to class?” An arched brow elicited no response aside from an exchanged glance between Dean and Seamus, and finally Severus concluded, “Well then, take your seats and decide between yourselves which of you it was who lost five points for Gryffindor.”

Seamus visibly bit back a response as Dean shoved him toward the last cauldron, and Harry found himself grinding his own teeth, as well. Startlingly, it wasn’t just anger at the injustice of Gryffindor being punished when Pansy Parkinson had been just as late, he realized; something about the situation stung more than that. Had he actually come to think of Severus Snape as just in these past three weeks? Certainly, that was an adjective he never would have applied to the Potions master before…

“Potter,” Severus’s voice snapped into his thoughts, and Harry looked up in surprise. Did he imagine the expectant look half hidden behind that curtain of black hair as the professor prodded, “Valerian sprigs?”

Harry swallowed hard and found his voice. He knew this; it had been part of his summer essay, and he wasn’t going to let this new attitude Severus had taken up erase that from his mind. “Valerian relaxes the mind,” he explained, his voice starting off quiet but gaining in confidence as he went on uninterrupted. “It’s commonly mistaken as a sedative because it’s used in all kinds of sleeping potions, even Draught of the Living Death. But it’s also used in forgetfulness potions, to put the mind at ease and allow memories to seep out.”

“Very good, Potter,” Severus said, before turning back to the class without another word. He hadn’t awarded any points to Gryffindor of course, like he would have to Slytherin if Malfoy or Blaise had answered, but was Harry imagining the look on the Slytherin House head’s face just as he had turned away? Because the twelve-year-old could have sworn, just for a split second, that there were traces of pride in Severus Snape’s black eyes.

As if on cue, Ron nudged him and muttered, “I think that’s the first time a Gryffindor has spoken in Snape’s class and not gotten points docked and detention.”

Hermione gave him an encouraging smile from where she stood at the next cauldron with Neville, who was in turn staring at Harry like he had just leapt off the Astronomy Tower and landed without a scratch. The Slytherins, on the other hand, were looking outraged. Draco Malfoy in particular had a look on his face that suggested only foul and devious things were going through his mind. Harry had the sudden inkling that his day was not getting any better.

His suspicions were confirmed perhaps ten minutes later when, as he was crushing lavender in his mortar, a paper airplane floated across the room and landed directly inside with a wet sort of plop. He barely had time to recognize the words, “Think you’re hot stuff? BANG!” scripted across it; then he recognized what had caused the wet sound. Infusion of wormwood oozed off one wing, a single drop teetering on the edge, and Harry had just enough time to gasp and shove Ron toward Hermione and Neville before a mushroom cloud of sickly green-and-purple smoke erupted directly in his face.

The effect was immediate. Whatever these two ingredients were used for, Harry imagined they were never meant to be mixed at this stage, because the stars that erupted behind his eyes were nothing to the lightning bolts of pain that shot up his spine. Yet the pain was not the most frightening part, for it only lasted a second; the next thing he knew, he couldn’t feel his legs at all, and they were giving away beneath him. He tried to command his arm to reach for the table to steady himself, but it seemed that they weren’t obeying him anymore, either. Only his eyes reflected his look of panic as he started to fall, because he couldn’t even convince his mouth to form a cry.

That one moment seemed to stretch on forever. He could just make out the Slytherins nearly climbing over each other for a better view in the background, behind Ron and Neville, who had fallen into a tangled sprawl on the floor. Hermione’s hand was over her mouth and her eyes were wide, but she seemed too wise to step forward and try to catch him and risk falling victim to the cloud of toxin herself. The last thing he saw before crashing down to the stone floor was Severus’s widening eyes as the Potions master reached out a hand, as if to catch him from across the dungeon.

At the very last second, a large cushion appeared out of nowhere, breaking what would surely have been a nasty fall and preventing Harry’s head from slamming into the cauldron behind him. Sound came rushing back in an explosion of noise; a couple of girls were screaming, more than a couple of Slytherins were making disappointed sounds that Harry hadn’t at least cracked his head open, the sounds of Ron and Neville’s struggle to disentangle themselves provided background noise, and Hermione shrieked her friend’s name over all of the others.

“Granger,” Severus’s voice rang out authoritatively, his wand snapping out to point at one of the cabinets behind his desk. It unlatched immediately and opened, revealing a store of at least thirty tiny bottles inside. “Second row, third vial from the left. Now,” he added with a scowl when she just continued to look at Harry.

As Hermione rushed off after the potion bottle he had indicated, Severus turned his attention to the mushroom cloud that was slowly dispersing across the classroom. Sharply drawing with his wand three neat crescent-shaped arcs, he hissed an incantation under his breath, and the venomous mist drew in on itself, then disappeared in a puff of gray. Hermione hurried forward with the vial Severus had indicated, and he instructed, “That reaction created a paralytic nerve toxin. You’ll have to pour it down his throat.”

By the time she had pulled Harry’s head onto her lap and was trying to get the antitoxin past his lips with shaking hands, a crowd of Gryffindors had gathered around their fallen Housemate. Then, something happened that had never occurred in the decade Severus Snape had been teaching Potions: he whirled on the Slytherins on the other side of the dungeon with venom in his voice.

“Which one of you insolent fools just tried to poison us all?”

For the most part, everyone was too stunned to speak. Even over at the little circle around Harry, a few Gryffindors turned with wide eyes as if they thought they must be delusional, because Professor Snape would never in a thousand years use that tone against his own House.

Severus’s black eyes narrowed, scanning each face and fighting back the urge to use Legilimency on them all. “None of you saw anything?” he continued, his tone dangerously soft. “Nott? Draco? No one?” His nostrils flared, a sign of anger none of the Slytherins had ever stared down. “Ten points from Slytherin.”

None of the second years standing before him could have looked more stunned had they, well, actually been Stunned. Draco Malfoy’s mouth fell open, his gray eyes wide with shock. “Professor Snape! You—but you must be joking!”

Severus’s obsidian eyes were cold as he stared back at the Malfoy heir, his voice coming out in a growl from between his teeth: “You or one of your Housemates just set off a toxic explosion with the potential to cause permanent nerve damage to every wizard in this room, had I not acted quickly. Does that sound like a joke to you?”

Draco swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away from his House Head’s. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Severus took two steps backward, seeming to regain a little composure. “Then all of you get out.”

The Slytherins didn’t have to be told twice; they grabbed their bags and bolted like the cloud of toxin was still spreading, all except for Malfoy, who backed away slowly, never taking his eyes off Severus until he reached the doorframe as if he suddenly no longer knew what to make of his favorite instructor.

Once they were cleared out, Severus turned his attention to the Gryffindors. “You too, all except Granger and Weasley,” he snapped, and they all followed suit. By this point, Harry was sitting up, but didn’t quite look up to the task of walking to his next class yet.

Severus seemed to pause a moment to consider his next move before asking in a slightly less venomous inflection, “Can you two get him to the hospital wing?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, nodding and pulling one of Harry’s arms over her shoulders. Ron followed suit on Harry’s other side, and between them, they managed to pull their friend to his feet.

“I will write a note for Professor Binns, though I doubt he will notice your absence,” Severus informed them. He half expected Granger to argue that they would be missing an important lecture on Blodgharm the Brute, but she merely blinked her surprise and said slowly, “Thank you.”

Only after Granger and Weasley had helped Harry out of the classroom did Severus allow himself to collapse into his seat, cup a long hand over the lower half of his face, and force his breaths to even out again.

“Severus,” Madam Pomfrey said in surprise, blinking at the dark-cloaked Potions professor as if she wasn’t quite sure that he was real. Harry tried to look up at the name, but found that his eyelids were too heavy. Just barely, through his eyelashes, he managed to make out the vague shapes of two adults clad in robes, but he was unable to do much else.

“Poppy,” Severus’s voice greeted smoothly in return. “I’m here for Harry Potter. He was a victim of a potion sabotage in my class today, and I wish to ascertain the identity of the culprit from him.”

“Potter’s been given a Sleeping Draught,” Pomfrey responded with a shake of her head. “He’ll be out for at least an hour while he recuperates.”

There was the briefest of pauses, and then Severus decided, “I’ll wait.”

Madam Pomfrey seemed to shrug with a suit-yourself type attitude and bustled off to deal with a third year who had tried to manicure her nails by magic and instead turned her fingers into talons.

Harry heard Severus pull a seat up beside his bed and sit down with a soft sigh, but still the Gryffindor couldn’t get his eyes to open. Silence echoed for a few long minutes, and then a near whisper escaped Severus’s lips before he even realized he had been giving voice to his thought: “How very like Potter you look when you’re sleeping.”

It wasn’t the words themselves that were surprising; Harry had heard often enough that he looked for all the world like a younger version of his father, except for his eyes. But the tone in Severus’s voice, though admittedly bitter, wasn’t the harsh, hateful intonation that Harry had always heard when the professor spoke James Potter’s name. Severus’s words were regretful and almost sad, or as close as Harry could ever imagine that voice being to sorrow.

Harry could almost see it then, how a younger Severus must have felt about Lily Evans. Hadn’t Hagrid always said how Harry’s mother had been beautiful and brilliant and the best witch in her year? And his father had been liked by everyone who spoke about him, except of course the surly Potions master. Harry couldn’t imagine what it felt like to love someone that much, to still lament that future that had never been after she had been dead for ten years… and yet, suddenly he found it hard to resent Severus for his anger of the previous year.

But even if Harry had been able to wake up before, he would have been stunned into stillness anyway when he felt the tips of Severus’s fingers on his forehead, brushing aside his bangs from matting to his skin. “No… not just like Potter. She wrinkled her brow like that when she was sleeping, too.”

Severus stood up slowly, his arms crossing across his chest, and suddenly Harry saw that what he had always assumed was a gesture of anger was actually an attempt to hold the Potions master together. “Maybe I couldn’t protect her,” Severus whispered hoarsely, “but I’ll be damned if I let them do the same to you.”

At some point, the Sleeping Draught did truly whisk him away to unconsciousness. And when Harry awoke, Severus had gone.

---

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked for the third time since classes had let out and she and Ron had come to visit.

“Fine, I swear,” Harry assured her. “Really, only my toes feel like they’re asleep, but other than that I’m good as new.”

“You gave us a right scare though, mate,” Ron said, munching on a chocolate frog that had been sent to Harry’s bedside by one of the Patil sisters.

Harry grinned. “No, I think I just gave you a right shove. You’re welcome, by the by.”

Ron looked abashed. “You should have just jumped for it yourself. Neville broke my fall well enough.”

“You know, Harry,” Hermione broke in, looking thoughtful. “I really think Snape was worried about you.”

“Rubbish,” Ron scoffed. “He was just upset he was standing so close when it went off.”

“He docked ten points from Slytherin, Ron,” Hermione said with a look that asked if he had gone nutters. “When has Snape ever even reprimanded a Slytherin in Potions before?”

“Well they almost got him with that evil mist stuff too,” Ron pointed out.

“But he conjured a mattress to protect him and everything,” Hermione countered.

Feeling an argument of truly epic proportions brewing, Harry sighed and cut off their bickering. “Hermione’s right, Ron. He really isn’t that bad.”

Ron gaped. “Are you joking? After everything he put us through last year!?”

“Well…” Harry looked away, uncertain how to explain what he had learned these past few weeks, or even if he really wanted to. “He’s kind of explained that, a bit. And it’s really hard to explain, but he’s not been like that since, and, well, I understand. And if I do, can’t you?”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said, beaming. “We trust you.” Noting Ron’s silence, she frowned and nudged him. “Don’t we, Ron?”

“I don’t know, mate,” Ron said slowly. “If you’re really sure, I guess I can try to not hate the bloke, at least. But say he’s not like that all you want, he still shouldn’t have picked on Dean and Seamus like that.”

“McGonagall would have docked them points for being late too,” Hermione argued. “She might have even been as sarcastic about it. You would just think it was fairer because she’s our Head of House and you know she doesn’t like doing it.”

“But that’s just the point!” Ron objected, tossing a sweets wrapper toward the bin and missing, but turning back to Hermione anyway. “Snape really, really enjoys docking points from us.”

Hermione fired back with a retort, and Harry sighed, settling back into bed and staring out the window. They wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t paying attention when they were bickering like this anyway, and the only way he could think of to distract them from it was by divulging the secret Severus had shared with him over the summer… and Harry was certain now that he wasn’t ready to do that yet. Merlin knew Harry didn’t even really understand it yet anyway.

Madam Pomfrey came to collect Ron and Hermione at six o’clock, saying that dinner in the Great Hall was beginning and that meant visiting hours were over. Harry wasn’t exactly sad to see them go, at the moment, as they were still arguing on their way out the door.

The healer brought him his own dinner on a tray, and he was pleased to see that it included his favorite treacle tart. He was still only halfway through with it when Severus appeared at the door, only to be cut off promptly by Madam Pomfrey.

“I told you I need to talk to Potter,” Severus said simply.

“Visiting hours ended ten minutes ago,” Madam Pomfrey asserted, trying to block his way in.

“Poppy, go eat your dinner. I’ll only be a few minutes, and it’s not as if the boy is going to fall asleep at six o’clock.”

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, but allowed him to pass and returned to her office, where presumably she ate in solitude.

Severus took the same seat he had been in earlier, Harry noted, and he paused for a short moment before asking, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Harry said shortly, trailing his fork across his plate like it had a purpose, though he didn’t take his eyes off Severus. It was hard enough to puzzle out what the Potions master was thinking even when he was within eyesight.

Severus looked at him for another long moment, then sighed. “It was Draco, wasn’t it?”

“Probably,” Harry admitted ruefully. “I don’t know what his handwriting looks like, but there was a note on the paper aeroplane that sounded like it was from him.”

Severus’s eyebrow raised. “Paper aeroplane?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. They threw it into the mortar with infusion of wormwood in the seams.”

Severus looked surprise. “You realize what it was, and what would happen, in enough time to push Weasley out of the way?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said, sounding a little surprised himself. And there on Severus’s face again was that odd look, like when he had gotten the question right in class earlier. Harry really needed to stop imagining that he could see pride behind that well-practiced façade of impassivity.

“Impressive,” Severus said out loud, and Harry stared at him for a moment.

“Was that… a compliment?”

Severus raised one eyebrow. “I suppose it was, though I don’t exactly agree with your handling of the situation.” He paused, his gaze shifting from one of Harry’s eyes to the other, and when he spoke again, his voice was a touch quieter. “You should have gotten yourself out of the way first, Harry.”

Harry was just about to argue when he picked up on another thread of what had just been said, and a crease appeared between his eyebrows as he frowned. Severus almost missed what the boy said next, remembering how Lily had used to frown in exactly the same way when she was thinking very carefully.

“So I’m Harry again, am I?”

Severus blinked, but that was the most confusion that he let slip into his visage. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re back to calling me Harry now? What, only when no one else is watching? Only when Malfoy or Zabini or Ron isn’t going to call you on it?”

For a few breaths, Severus was silent. Harry was just thinking he wasn’t going to answer when the Potions master said quietly, “I thought we had established that, at Hogwarts, I am still your professor.”

Harry remembered that conversation; it had been his first day in Spinner’s End, and he had still been very unsure where the two of them had stood. Then again, he still wasn’t very sure about that… but maybe it was just about time that he did.

“In class,” he began slowly. “When you asked that question about valerian… You knew I would have the answer, didn’t you?”

“I was fairly confident you would remember the topic of your summer essay, yes.”

“So you gave me a question on purpose that you knew I could answer.” Harry paused. “You never did that before. You always asked me things only Hermione would know, and then docked points when I didn’t.”

Severus sighed softly. “So I did.” A very faint smirk turned up the corner of his lip as he added, “But you did spend a good deal of your summer in your Potions master’s house. You were bound to pick up a few things.”

“Just a few,” Harry agreed, but even by the tone of his voice, it was obvious he wasn’t just talking only about school topics. He bit the inside of his jaw for a second, then smiled wryly. “Thanks, Severus.”

A crease appeared between Snape’s eyes now, too. “Whatever for?”

“When I was falling, you Transfigured that cushion out of the air, didn’t you?”

Severus made a soft hmph sound, as if this little detail was of no consequence. “You would have split your head open on the stone.”

“Yeah, I would’ve. And you would have let me this time last year.”

Severus’s black eyes bored into Harry’s for a moment, and for the tiniest of moments, they almost looked like they held a trace of regret. “Perhaps I would have,” he agreed quietly. “But this time last year, it was James Potter I kept expecting to see in my classroom. You have… surprised me.”

Harry looked a little uncertain. “In a good way or bad?”

A smirk twisted Severus’s lips, but it wasn’t the condescending one that Harry had grown accustomed to seeing; no, Severus Snape seemed to be just genuinely amused as he said, “Both, I assure you.” He let the smirk fade until it could almost, almost pass for a slight smile, and then added in a softer tone, “But mostly for the better.”

The incident with the Weasleys’ flying car replayed in Harry’s mind at that moment, and suddenly in the light of what had happened this day, it made a little more sense. The way Severus had been seething with rage at the Slytherins today matched exactly the anger that had been aimed at Harry on the first of September. He didn’t actually mean to voice his realization, but without thinking, he murmured, “So that’s why.”

Severus’s eyebrow rose again. “What?”

Harry almost looked away, but he found himself meeting Severus’s gaze instead, again trying to read the thoughts in them before they vanished away behind that Occlumens shield. “Why you were angry,” he said quietly. “You blew up at the Slytherins today just like you blew up at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Just like you did at me, after Ron and I hit that tree.”

“Mm,” was all that Severus said for a moment, and he seemed to debate for a moment whether he wanted to say more. Finally, he allowed another faint almost-smile and said, “That’s exactly what I meant about surprising me. You’re more observant than I realized.”

Something bordering on disbelief showed in Harry’s eyes as he asked more than stated, “You were worried about me.”

Severus tapped one long finger on the arm of his chair—once, twice, three times. Finally, he said in a quiet voice, “Someone should be. You obviously don’t worry nearly enough about yourself.”

A long silence followed, broken only by the sound of an owl outside the window. At last, Harry swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry. For the car. I wasn’t thinking; I guess we just panicked and it seemed like the thing that made the most sense at the time…”

“Harry.” Severus sighed softly and waited for the boy to look up before stating plainly, “Harry, you’re twelve. You’re going to not think everything through. You’re going to make mistakes. Merlin knows I did… do. Did you really think I hated you for that?”

Harry avoided the professor’s gaze again. “Maybe a little.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.” The boy looked up, those bright green eyes Severus had loved behind the glasses he had hated, and suddenly the Potions master knew how true that statement was. Harry was not James Potter, and neither was he Lily Evans. He had part of both of them, certainly; but Harry was Harry. And with a jolt that almost made him sit up a little straighter in his chair, Severus realized that it was because of that, because of Harry himself, that he had stood up in the boy’s defense today.

Severus Snape was no longer protecting Lily Evans’ son only because of the oath he had made to her. Sometime in the past month, between realizing the situation the child had been held in that he didn’t deserve and attempting to free him from it, Severus had come to care not only for the pieces of Harry that had come from his mother, but also the traits that were entirely his own.

Somehow, right in the middle of trying to reassure the boy that nothing had changed, Severus was hit with the epiphany that everything had.