“Sirius…”

In a deep, agitated sleep, a messy haired boy was fiercely fighting against his blanket.

“Come back… Sirius… No! The veils… wait… I’m sorry!” Suppressing a cry, the teenager woke up with a start. Staring into space, it took a moment to gater his wits. It was summertime, and he was back again, at number four Privet Drive, his uncle and aunt’s place...and Sirius was dead. Dead. Fallen through the veil. Because of Harry.

Bellatrix, the mirror...dead.

Harry groped around for his glasses, with no luck. He sighed, ‘Never mind’. It was night, it was dark, and he hadn’t cried out loud. Vernon was not going to slam the door open and shout at him to let them sleep in peace.

Just like Sirius was.

Sirius, at peace ? How could he, after having been so stupidly killed at the Ministry? It had been for no reason, he was neither cleared of the charges for murder, nor free to enjoy his life. And his godson, Harry... he could only see his death now.

Harry held back a sob. Night after night, Sirius came back to die in his dreams. Of course, he could have asked for a dreamless sleep potion from the Order, but... he didn’t deserve it. Sirius could come back every single night, and it wouldn’t make up for Harry's errors. The only person who had wanted him since his parents’ deaths was dead, and it was Harry's fault... just like his parents, wasn’t it?

Unable to go back to sleep, Harry walked to the window. Behind the bars, the full moon was glowing.

‘Remus must be in bad shape right now,’ he thought. He leaned his forehead against the bars for a while, wishing he could just slip through them, jump to the street, and run far away. Somewhere where he wouldn’t know anyone, somewhere no one would die. Just for a while, to forget...Well, why bother?

Better go back to sleep. Tomorrow, there would be a lot of chores to be done. Or Dementors to fight. Tomorrow would be his birthday, for what it was worth.

Harry Potter slipped back in his bed, and sank into a dreamless, dark sleep. He didn’t hear midnight striking. He did not see the three pale shadows appear like mist in his room, and gather around his bed. “Harry…forgive me…”

The boy shuddered in his sleep.

“Don’t wake him, Sirius. He shouldn’t see us; it would just make things more difficult.”

“I know” sighed the figure with the long, dark hair. There was deep regret in his gaze. “And yet, if I could just tell him how sorry I am…”

“Sirius, James is right,” replied the soft voice of the feminine shape standing by his side. “He will understand; one day, he will know. But we just have tonight, and we’ve got to choose.”

“I know” Sirius said in a stronger voice. “We discussed this already. It’s just hard to see our own mistakes weighing down the very one we wanted to protect”.

The shadows of James and Lily stepped closer to him, until the three of them became a single, protective shape. They kept silent for a while, watching the sleeping boy unaware of their presence.

“I am sorry, Harry.” Lily said in a soft voice.

“For all of our mistakes, for your fears, for leaving you alone...We only have tonight, my love. And you will probably never know about this... Sirius’ death will not have been in vain, in the end. Tonight, my child, receive our gift, the only one we can still give you, and make good use of it. Never forget that we love you, that we willingly gave our lives for you and are so proud of you. My little lion... Happy birthday.” The young woman turned toward her companions who answered her with a nod.

The two men stepped toward the sleeping boy, their hands outstreched. “For you, my son; be brave. Stand tall. I trust you, you will find the way. I love you, Harry...”

“Forgive me Harry, for I wasn’t the godfather I wanted to be...My death shouldn’t be a weight on your shoulders. I was already living on borrowed time and getting getting to know you was a great privilege. We will meet again... when everything will be at peace.”

A moonbeam filtered through the bars, shining down on the three ghostly shadows leaning over the bed.

A soft voice arose, crooning an old lullabye, it notes reaching deep into the boy’s unconsciousness. A profound sense of peace seemed to permeate the room. From the outstreched hands of the two men, a golden haze spread out to hover above the body lying on the bed. As the song ran filled the air, as time seemed to stand still, the haze came to rest just above the boy, slowly dancing, glowing under the moonlight.

The lullaby became softer, slower, before dying away on a breath.

As if sensitive to the music, the haze also quit dancing, and stopped, then quickly melted into the boy and disappeared. In his sleep, Harry trembled.

“I love you, Harry.” Lily whispered a last time, before fading away. At his bedside, the two other figures vanished without a sound.

Outside, a dog howled his distress to the full moon.

And at number 4, Privet Drive, the now sixteen year old boy seemed to, for a while, glow with a strange light.

BAM...BAM

"WAKE UP!"

Harry woke in a start at the thumps on the door and leaped to his feet. Uncle Vernon seemed to be in an even worse mood than usual...Of course, Vernon was not one of those people who woke up singing in the morning, but since the begining of the summer, his mood had been literally murderous. Well, to look on the bright side of things, he seemed to have decided to ignore Harry most of the time.

The problem was the rest of the time.

The chores did not really bother Harry. On the contrary. As long as he was busy cleaning, cooking or gardening, he could at least push the thoughts of Voldemort and Bellatrix, and Sirius falling throught the veil, to the back of his mind. Sometimes, when he was exhausted enough, he could even sleep without dreaming for a while, for which he was deeply grateful.

However, Harry wasn't the only one here who had problems. If Uncle Vernon remained totally ignorant of the war and of the threat Voldemort represented, his own Muggle problems were enough to make him more quick tempered than ever; the impending closure of the factory, Dudley's bad grades, Marge's car accident... and his own rheumatism which was now almost as bad as his high cholesterol rate.

All those calamities could only have one cause...Potter. The damn kid who had been foisted upon them at the age of one, with his abnormality, his arrogance, his...

Vernon saw red. It was the brat's fault; this little ungrateful whelp, who had been ruining their lives since the day he arrived !

So Vernon decided to do his best to ignore him this summer; and to have him spend the hols in his rooms, as if that would even help... However, his godfather was dead, and the brat screamed every night, waking them with a start...

To hell with those freaks who'd threatened him at the station; the kid needed discipline, and he was going to take care of that; Nobody could blame him for keeping the peace in his own home!

Shaking the boy a bit seemed to help. A few slaps across the face to calm his hysteria had considerably lessened his own stress, and it obviously did not harmed the boy much. In fact, he seemed to take the thrashings with a measure of resignation, as if he knew he deserved it... Finally. Vernon might have found the right way to deal with that living picture of arrogance. He'd always known that a bit of 'well-applied' discipline could only be good for children... and their guardians' nerves.

The door slammed open and Vernon came into the small room. Harry was nervously standing on his bed, waiting for what would come next.

"Boy! You don't move. You don't breathe. You don't touch anything. We are going to the hospital to see Marge. We will be back this evening. DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE THIS ROOM!" he barked

Relieved, Harry relaxed and nodded.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon hesitated for a moment. Leaving the brat a whole day alone in the house...Well, he had no choice. Figg was ill, Marge was in a sorry state at the hospital... Out of the question to leave Dudley with the little freak, and Marge was asking for him anyway. With a last threatening glance, Vernon shut the door of the room and started fastening the locks. The boy wouldn't wander far with those on anyway...

Harry could scarcely believe his luck. A whole day alone, it was a real birthday present! Sure, he wouldn't be able to sneak food today, but he was counting on Hedwig to bring him his usual birthday cakes that Mrs Weasley, Hagrid and Hermione never failed to send him.

Of course, there would be nothing from Sirius this year... he felt the familiar knot in his stomach; One more milestone that would go by without Sirius...

Harry stiffened. Outside, car doors slammed shute and a motor started up. A moment later, the car left the alley and the boy relaxed. He was alone for the day, free to do whatever he wanted! Or rather, he thought, not to do anything at all.

Sighing, he lay on his bed. He'd had a strange dream last night, after he'd fallen back to sleep. He couldn't remember the details, but it'd seemed that Sirius was in it, as well as his father and mother, wishing him a happy birthday. Strangely enough, the dream hadn't left the same bitter taste it usually had whenever he dreamed about them. They hadn't blamed him for anything this time... he had felt at peace, loved, and he'd experienced a warm sensation suffusing his skin...

Yes, that had been a strange dream. Too bad Vernon had woken him up just to tell him not to leave.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to recapture the warm sensation, to remember the details, but the dream was fast escaping him. He was just starting to fall asleep when a familiar noise woke him up; a beak was angrily knocking on the glass!

Harry opened his eyes and rushed to open the window: a white owl hurtled into the room in a mess of feathers, furiously angry that she'd had to wait.

"Sorry, Hedwig, I should have left the window open!" the boy apologized.

The owl let out an angry cry in agreement, but then perched on his shoulder at once, nipping Harry's finger affectionately, causing Harry to smile.

"Thanks, Hedwig. I missed you too."

He stroked the snowy head, and noticed a small package tied to her leg. Smiling, he untied the package and put it on his bed before lifting Hedwig into her cage. He handed her a biscuit that she eagerly ate, proud of her accomplished mission, she settled on her perch for a nap.

Harry smiled at the sight; Hedwig was not only his only link to the wizarding world during hols, but also a very endearing companion! He suddenly felt a bit less depressed, and started to open what must have been his first birthday present.

A letter slipped from the brown paper: neat handwriting with straight lines... it had to be Hermione!

Dear Harry,

I hope your summer is going well with your family, and that you are not thining about what happened at the Ministry too much.

I have just arrived at the Burrow, after a month spent in southern France with my parents: it is a very fascinating place, as much historically as magically; the protection spells on those old castles are incredible! I learned a lot about local traditions, and I met some Beauxbatons students (not Fleur though-)

I am affraid I am a bit behind with my sixth year readings, but I am just so nervous waiting for the OWL results! They should not be long now.

The bracelet (in the package) comes from a small shop in a village I visited this summer: it is an Portable Aid. The shopkeeper, a French wizard, he told me it was used in the last Muggle wars by wizards: when the person wearing it is seriously wounded, the bracelet will lead him to the nearest person capable of healing him while slightly levitating them. I thought you would be the one for whom it would be the most useful!

I hope you are not having any problems this summer, and that you are having a nice birthday anyway. Ron and I cannot wait to see you, Mrs Weasley asked Dumbledore to get you to the Burrow as quickly as possible; Ginny is very impatient too and the twins are dying to show you their latest invention (Mrs Weasley threatened to disown them if they use them at the Burrow!)

Take care!

Happy Birthday!

Hermione

Harry smiled as he put letter back on the bed. Hermione was certainly not one to spend her summer getting a tan!

He curiously opened the package, and found a little silver, braided bracelet, which slid easily agains his fingers. Harry examined it carefully: there was nothing to distinguish it from an ordinary jewell, but trust Hermione to know what she was talking about! A warmth of well-being filled him as he put the bracelet on his wrist: Sirius and his parents were not there anymore to look after him, but his friends never lowered their guards...

The bracelet stretched and naturally adjusted around his wrist. Harry did not have time to put Hermione's letter away: a tornado of feathers came crashing into his kness, breathless as it collapsed under the weight of a large package.

Harry quickly set Errol free and gave him some water; Errol was far too old for long hauls!

Grateful, the owl sank into the water bowl and nearly drowned. Harry held him, patting his wings, under the outraged stare of Hedwig.

When he was sure the bird could stand on the perch by himself, Harry hurried to open the package that had nearly caused the owl to collapse.

He smiled at the sight of the enormous cake that Mrs Weasley, true to tradition, had baked him. He gratefully helped himself to a large piece of cake, his starved, empty stomach was growling with hunger!

He opened the envelope that was stuck on the side of the box:

My Dear Harry,

Professor Dumbledore promised me that he would bring you to the Burrow himself as soon as the Order is less busy, which should not be too long. We are all impatient to have you here, I hope that everything is going well for you with your family. Even if it is not an enjoyable time, please remember that you are safe there, and do not wander out of the house!

See you soon, Happy Birthday!

Molly Weasley

Harry was feeling better by the minute; he was sure to be at the Burrow soon, and the summer holidays would finally begin!

Before he could help himself to a second helping of cake, a crashing noise at the window made him jump to his feet: he turned just in time to see three heavily laden owls collide and then struggle to enter through windowsill.

Harry could not help laughing when the smallest of the three, Pig, only slightly bigger than a baby chick, let out a shrill cry, stuck as it was between Hagrid and the twins' larger owls.

He quickly took him in his hand to comfort him, but it only took a minute for the tiny owl to gather himself and start cheeping with all his breath, at the two birds that had knocked him over!

Harry thanked Merlin that the Dursleys had decided to leave for the day: not only had the five owls transformed his room into an owler, but they also seemed to have decided to make as much noise as possible to celebrate his birthday! He tried to calm down the loudest one, Pig, by untying his package and rewarding him. He quickly opened the letter that had come from Ron's, of course:

Harry,

What are you waiting for? Hermione is already here and Fred and George have brought all sorts of incredible stuff! Are the Muggles holding you prisoner? If that's the problem, we will come for you! We already know the way!

Have a look in the box: I know it's not as great as Sirius's mirror, but I think we can find a way to use it!

Get here soon !!!

Ron

Curious, Harry hurriedly opened the package. A miniature broom slipped out and flew to alight atop his hand. When he closed his fingers aound it, a long roll of parchment unrolled from the stick:

"Note-broom: make your messages fly! Rewritable up to 10 000 times per roller with a standard quill! Forbidden in official examinations!"

"No joke!" Harry thought, laughing at the prospect. The idea of going back to Hogwarts had never filled him with such anticipation!

The second was a heavy package, held out by an odd-looking owl; was filled with homemade cakes from Hagrid. The third revealed a large sampling of Weasley Twins products, with the promise to show him more as soon as he got to the Burrow!

Harry sighed; he hadn't had any news from Dumbledore all summer. When was he intending to come and collect him?

However, there was no reason to be discouraged: the news was good, and he would more than likely be at the Burrow before the end of the week.

The day passed quickly, writing thank you letters and playing with the miniature broom. The broom was fast and for lack of a real one, he happily fashioned a makeshift Snitch!

Harry was feeling almost light-hearted when he heard the car park in the alleyway again. The doors were slammed loudly, and the boy felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Overcome by a sudden, bad premonition, he opened Hedwig's cage.

"Go!" he whispered. "Go wait for me at the Burrow; it is not worth you staying here. I won't be long."

The owl worriedly bit at his fingers. He stroked her head to reassure her, and then opened the window once again. With a regretful look, Hedwig took flight. Harry watched as she disappeared, as footsteps were echoing on the staircase. He could tell by his weight that it was Uncle Vernon, but it was not his usual way of walking...

As the locks opened one by one, Harry felt the lump in his throat.

The door opened and shut to admit by Uncle Vernon.

Harry had always feared his uncle, most especially when he was cross. However, Vernon's face at this moment was more than frightening... the boy could feel a wave of hatred fill the room. Vernon's face was beet red and splotchy: the angle of his jaw and the circles around his eyes were white, while purple spots were splattered over his face. He was nearly mute from pure rage.

"She's dead," he managed to say.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Harry stammered. It took him a few seconds to realize who had died: Marge. Marge was dead. So it'd turned out that she was not as indestructible as he'd always thought.

"Sorry!" Vernon finally shouted, "You should be! It's all your fault! Your bloody fault!"

Harry was speechless. He did not know the details about Marge's accident, but he was quite sure that he was in no way implicated!

"You, your abnormality... your fault... always...You bring destruction and death wherever you go!"

Harry wavered on his feet. The sight of Sirius falling through the veil hit him full force.

"Never... we should never have taken you in. Thrown you in the street, that would have been reasonable... how many times I wanted to... but no!" Vernon still couldn't speak, wild with anger.

"Destruction... death... you should have been the one to die! Ungrateful, horrible little freak! Rotten to the core, you are! Evil as can be... worse than a bug, should have crushed you long ago!"

Stunned, Harry was fighting for breath. His vision suddenly went blurry as he watched uncomprehendingly as Vernon took off his belt and fixed him with a nasty look.

"You killed her. You killed them all... you parents...you bring bad luck! You are worthless; you don't deserve the air you're breathing! You ruin everything! You kill everything!"

The belt whistled in the air before landing on Harry's chest with the full force of an enraged Vernon. The words were still echoing in his head, and he did not register the pain of the first blow until the second one hit him full in the face. Then the third. Finally coming out of his trance, Harry lifted an arm to protect himself; his glasses had fallen off and he could not follow Vernon's words and gestures at the same time.

Something had once again just unravled in his mind...

"Killed! How many more? My family who took you in! You little monster, what else are you going to do to us? You're nothing but a curse!"

And the words sounded so right. And the blows felt so right.

And so, he did not try to resist anymore, just tried to accept the punishment, trying not cry. Maybe somehow it would be enough to pay for what he'd done? Enough to be forgiven? No, that was impossible...

Vernon's continued, unabated. He was right, and the little freak knew it... kneeling in front of him, he was waiting for the blows, and he would get them.

After a long time, when he did not have any strength left, he stopped to look down at the crouching figure as it moaned and bled at his feet. lying at his feet. He kicked him away disgustedly one last time, then wiped the sweat from his face, trying to calm himself enough to speak.

"Tomorrow... tomorrow, you ungrateful freak, you will be gone! Pack your things. Tell your friends to come get you. Either they do, or you go and sleep on the streets, I don't give a damn. You do not live here anymore. Don't you ever dare come near my family again. Never."

After spitting on the boy, the man turned on his heels and left the room, this time without doing the locks.

It was almost nighttime outside, an icy wind swept alongs the street... two silent, black silhouettes appeared and stepped closer to the. Seeming both impatient and triumphant, they stopped a few feet away from the garden.

In the smallest room of number 4, Privet Drive, Harry Potter was lying in a blessed unconsciousness... black, red... but he had to leave. Before he caused something bad to happen again. A death. Many deaths. He wanted to stand up, but could not move, nor feel his body... He had to go, though. Quickly. He felt the bracelet warming on his wrist, as if to wake him up gently. Yes, he had to follow the bracelet, but first... there was something he had to do.

But what?

The lyrics of a lullaby drifted back to him in the haze of his memory.

When the night comes... a star...

An instant later, he opened his eyes. It was dark, but he could see if it were daylighty. He got up, surprised and happy to find that he could stand on his legs. His four legs. His whole body was aching, but... but? He was missing something. What was he doing here? He had to go, but why?

Something soft and comforting was shining around his neck, and he suddenly felt lighter. He knew where to go... or at least, somebody knew it for him.

A moment later, a skinny black cat threaded itself between the bars of the window of the small room et number 4, Privet Drive, jumped into the garden then crept away under the freshly painted fence.

At precisely the same moment, two Death Eaters stepped through the front door, as furtively and gracefully as the cat had sneaked out of the house.

Severus Snape didn’t like summer.

It was hot, and his black robes felt heavy and stiff. Potions were unsteady if not watched carefully, and the students... well, the students were on holidays. The dunderheads were enjoying their summer getting on their parents' nerves, for which he was grateful.

Leaving his Slytherin rooms for Snape Manor, he was finally able to focus on his potions, in the cool of his own personal dungeon. The idea would have been more attractive if not for the excessive quietude.

Of course, students made him lose his temper a hundred times a day, especially those idiot Hufflepuffs and the arrogant Gryffindors... but to their credit, they kept him on this toes.

With a look at the Dark Mark on his arm, Snape found himself daydreaming once again of what his life would have been like... if he had made a different choice... if he had listened...

No matter. The choices had been made long ago, and all that remained now were the consequences. The Dark Lord could summon him at any moment, and his potions had to be ready.

They always were...

He glanced upward through the small dungeon window and could see the sky lightening. The sun was about to rise. Leaving his lab for a while, Snape climbed the stairs that led to the garden.

The Order members would surely laugh at the idea that Severus Snape, spy, Death Eater, irascible Potions professor, liked to leave his dungeon to watch the sunrise.

Whatever they would think, it wouldn’t change in the least what he felt. For a few minutes, Snape could harbour the illusion that all hope wasn’t lost, and that the world could still be unspoiled for a moment.

Just until the day started, when he would return to the darkness of the lab.

The sun was late to appear today, and a fog had settled over the countryside. A fog that strangely cooled the summer and made Snape shiver...

His attention was suddenly caught by the bush before him: there was definitely something moving around in there... Snape drew his wand at once and furtively stepped closer.

He moved the branches apart and stood still for a second: two green eyes were staring at him, both fearful and hopeful... a vision quickly swept through his mind: a smile, a laugh…of other green eyes... He shook his head and re-gathered his thoughts.

From under the bushes, a little black cat was intensely staring at him, immobile.. There was something shiny around his neck; obviously the cat belonged to some neighbourhood farm and was out making the rounds of his territory.

Amused, the Potions Master caught the cat by the scruff of the neck and pulled him closer. It was not a kitten anymore, but it was not fully adult either. It was as small as it was light, and Snape could feel its fright as it trembled.

The sun finally pierced through the fog, and Snape could see the cat more closely.

His amusement vanished at once. The cat was not only small and fearful; he was also skinny and covered with blood. It was a wonder that he hadn't fought his captor.

Snape had no sympathy to waste on students. He was not paid to play babby-sitter or even to be nice; he was a Death Eater, a spy, and his sordid past did not predispose him to pity or compassion.

But the professor still didn’t approve of mistreatment, either of children, animals, or any creature incapable of defending itself, even a first year Hufflepuff student.

Afraid of hurting the cat, the Potions Master loosened his grip, releasing him on the ground. The cat seemed relieved, but did not try to flee as Snape expected, but only raised a strange, lost look at him.

Snape hesitated for a moment.

“Well, I suppose that if I can heal a half-dying wizard, I can try to fix a cat that looks like he lost a battle to a hippogriff ?”

The cat did not move.

Snape cautiously lift the feline and took him off towards the dungeon. The cat appeared to be bleeding from several wounds, but his black furr made it difficult to assess. Grabing a jug of water and a clean cloth, he undertook to gently wash the cat.

“I’m afraid that your kind does not like of this kind of treatment, but it's for your own good. Stay still,” he ordered the animal, attempting a reassuring voice. The heart of the cat was furiously beating, but he still did not move.

Snape found himself thinking that the cat was actually smarter and more cooperative than most of his students; he felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the young cat.

A surge which came to an abrupt halt when he finally cleared the head of the cat of the blood covering his fur.

Contrary to what he had thought, the cat was not totally black.

On his forehead was a white, lightning-shaped mark.

Snape clenched his teeth, the picture of a certain Gryffindor student flashing through his mind.

“Merlin ! Am I doomed to save every single Potter in the world, even the feline version of the precious savior ?”

The cat blinked and cowered at his threatening tone. Snape waved his hand, as to dismiss the thought.

"Very well. If I am destined to be chased after by all the stupid and arrogant creatures with green eyes and a lightning bolt on the forehead…”

He grabbed the cat and lifted him to eye-level..

“Then, you will be the Cat Who Lived.”

The cat blinked in answer.

Daylight came slowly, the haze not seeming to want to fade away. Snape was anxiously waiting for the familiar burn on his forearm, indicating that his master was summoning him. Something was wrong, he could feel it, and that made him particularly nervous. It has been more than a week since he'd last had any contact with the Death Eaters, and the Order was getting worried.

Did Voldemort have any suspicion as to where his loyalties lay ? Was he planning a new attack on Muggles, or on the Golden Boy?

Snape sighed in frustration. He had no way to know... what was the use of risking his life spying if no one ever told him anything?

On the table, the cat cautiously moved a leg to change his position. The animal was obviously suffering from his wounds. Who could have reduced the cat to such a sorry state ? His owners?

Snape studied the strange silver collar around his neck. It looked like a rather precious object, so surely his owners must care about him... Butt short of a name tag, and given the uncertainty surrounding the origins of the wounds, he could not return their animal..

He considered the question: he had already healed wounded animals in the past, but they had always been magical creatures... well, weren't all cats supposed to have some magic in them?

He opened a cupboard and took out a small blue vial and a clay jar that he then opened.

To make a cat drink a potion and stay still as he applied the salve would not be an easy matter... better to immobilize him beforehand. He looked at the cat and hesitated. The cat seemed to understand that he wanted to help him and had not tried to fight him thus far...

“Cat. If you know what is good for you, you will not move. The salve I am going to put on your wounds will cool them and help them heal.”

The cat listened to him with an attentive and surprised look on his face. Snape mentally cursed; here he was , talking to a cat as if he could understand... with a bit more time{,} he'd have a pink rubbon around the cat’s neck!

Grumbling, he put a hand on the cat's back, trying to be reassuring.

"Good. Be still. There… "

The salve barely made its way though the thick fur of the cat. Despite his collar, the cat looked more like an alley cat than a purebred champion making the circuit of feline beauty contests. Snape held out his hand to grab the collar and then slid it though his fingers, looking for the opening.

The cat, who had been still until then, suddenly started and thrashed furiously; the Potions Master let go of the collar to hold the cat in place, surprised by his reaction.

The animal stopped moving but still did not relax.

“Very well, I get it, I will not remove your collar,” the Potions Master said in a conciliatory voice. Curious reaction that the cat had just had... Well who knew what went on in a cat’s mind ? He probably thought he was being strangled.

His mind wandering, Snape applied the salve on the last visible wounds. Really, whoever had taken it out on this cat had the soul of a real sadist... his skin was shredded on almost all of its body; not even its face and head had been spared. He also seemed to have difficulty bearing weight on one of his legs and was limping pitifully.

Snape shook his head. If he was to be part of a raid against Muggles tonight, at least he would have helped to relieve a cat’s suffering. Maybe that was the path to redemption...

He didn't have anything against animals. They were silent most of the time and did not ask stupid questions. Dogs, obviously, were loudest and a bit of a nuisance, but cats had a proud and independent manner that found a kinship with his own demeanor..

This one, however, was neither proud nor mysterious right now. Exhausted, the cat was lying on the table, legs folded up under his frail body.

Far too skinny, Snape thought… Taking out his wand, conjured a small plate and poured the potion he wanted the cat to drink in it. He probably should have dissolved it in milk, but its effectiveness would have been lessened.

He gently put the plate in front of the cat. Cautiously, the cat stretched out a curious nose, before pulling away with a disgusted look on his face.

‘Foiled,’ Snape thought

“Come on, cat. That will help you.”

The cajoling tone only earned him a tired look from the cat. Snape sighed; he didn’t want to have to force the potion down the cat’s throat. An idea suddenly came to him; he opened a cupboard and took out a box full of little vials of all colors.

"Strawberry… honey… rose… No, that won’t do… grapefruit…… wood… Sardine! "

With a satisfied smile, the Potions Master put two drops of it into the cat’s plate.

These artificial flavour samples had not been a waste of time, after all; everything ever came in handy, one day or another !

Intrigued by the smell, the cat stepped toward the plate again and… started to lap at it avidly.

Snape chuckled ; this cat was truly a valuable distraction, in spite of his annoying resemblance to a feline Potter. Whether it was a human or animal issue, he liked to find solutions, and most of all potion-based solutions !

Fortified by the potion, the cat started to limp about on the table, smelling the vials and tools there with curiousity.

Snape quicky caught him.

"Easy there, Potter, you will not destroy more of my posessions today ! "

The Potions Master broke off and snorted, thinking of what he had just said. This awful green-eyed cat was a perfect caricature of the hero of the wizarding world... quite funny, when one thought about it. He would have been all the rage at the pet shop on Diagon Alley!

Maybe he belonged to a wizarding family, yet, Snape thought. That would not be surprising, really...

Tha cat was watching him with an innocent and astounded look. The slightly lost look of someone wondering where he was, who he was, and what he might be doing here...

Snape shook his head.

“Very well. I suppose that I can’t put you back out in the wild like that, can I, Cat Who Lived ? Accio jumper.”

With a determined gesture, he laid an old jumper on the edge of the fireplace and firmly settled the cat on it.

“Accio fish.”

Some fish leftovers he had used to prepare a potion joined the plate from which the cat had drunk and Snape put it near the jumper.

The young cat rushed on the tin and devoured its content with the full enthousiasm of a starved cat.

Snape amusedly watched him. A starved, beaten cat... he prefered to think that his owners were searching for him right now, and had nothing to do with the animal’s misfortunes. One Potter martyr was enough !

Satisfied, sated, the pain finally gone, the young cat collapsed heavily onto the jumper.

“I presume that is what is called feline grace?”stated the Potions Master, raising an eyebrow.

The cat blinked in reply, before falling into a deep sleep, a young cat asleep with a full belly…

The cat didn’t awake for the rest of the day.

Leaving his potions for a moment, Snape stopped to look at the young sleeping cat and was overtaken by a sudden urge to yawn. This cat was contagious... how long had it been since he'd slept like that soundly, without a worry on his mind?

Some years, he thought, far too many years.

He reflexively grabbed his Mark. Nothing. Nothing yet. What was happening? The fog had still not faded away, chilling the air.

He had a sudden urge to contact Malfoy; maybe he would know something… He abandoned the idea, it was too dangerous. He could not risk arousing his suspicions. After the Ministery fiasco, everything had become frustratingly complicated..

A sound pulled him from his thoughts: something was tapping on the small windowpane. . He raised he head: an owl was knocking with the full force of her beak, an envelope tied to her leg.

Snape was to her in a second and instantly recognized the writing on the parchment.

" Severus,

"Meeting of the Order of the Phoenix tonight.

Your attendance is required,

"Albus Dumbledore”

Snape groaned; this meeting was not planned, it could only mean two things: either the Dark Lord had attacked again, or the Golden Boy had got himself into trouble, the two situations not necessarily being mutually exclusive.

Worried and annoyed, he threw the parchment into the fire. He didn’t like the look of this mist... He would have to go back to the Death Eaters this evening, whether he was summoned or not. He had to know.

He looked at the sky again : the day was nearly over.. Before leaving the dungeon, he made sure the cat was still asleep; he probably should have left him in a safer place; Merlin only knew what mischief he could get into while he was not watching him... but the cat did not seem to be ready to awake, and Snape decided to be indulgent..

After all, the cat had diverted him with his presence and had not moved the whole day. Let him sleep, tomorrow he would set him free so that he could go back to his home.

He threw a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace and stepped through the green flames. The next moment, he was at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and he instantly knew by the faces around him that he had been right.

The trouble was starting again..

“Severus, we were waiting for you,” Dumbledore welcomed him, his gaze solemn. Around him, the tense faces of the Order members were staring at him, their expressions a mixture of accusation and doubt.

Snape nodded in greeting. "The meeting notice just reached me. What has happened?”

Dumbledore sighed.

“Sit down. All of you,” he added to include the other members, who settled around the table reluctantly. Tension in the room was palpable.

“Have I missed something?” Snape snapped.

“That’s what we would bloody like to know,” Moody roared, his magical eye staring fiercely at Snape.

“Alastor, there is no need to raise your voice, Severus will be able to have his say as soon as he knows why we are all gathered here tonight,” Dumbledore said with a conciliatory gesture.

“ If someone would just speak up,” the Potions Master said curtly. He sensed the Order members tense at his words.

“Harry’s gone missing! That's what you missed, Severus!” Tonks spat out, her hair changing from color to color in her agitation.

Stunned, Snape held his breath for a moment. Strangely enough, the first thought that crossed his mind was to offer them a Potter Cat as a replacement. He caught himself just in time, but Tonks had leapt out of her chair.

“Just look at him! It made him smile! He’s a traitor, I told you he was! He knew! Where’s Harry? Where is he? Answer at once, you sorry…”

Molly Weasley stood to hold the young woman back, as Dumbledore raised his voice to be heard. There was no longer any trace of humor left on Snape’s pale face. What had he been thinking? There was nothing laughable about Potter's disappearance, as irritating as the boy was!

“Severus, do you know anything about this?”

The piercing blue eyes of Hogwarts’ headmaster scrutinized him intently. All of the other faces around him were hostile and accusing. They all worshiped Saint Potter, and despite of his antipathy for the boy, Snape had to admit that his moment of distraction, however short, had been ill-timed and inappropriate. What if he had suffered a similar moment of weakness in the presence of the Dark Lord? He would've been dead in a moment, he thought.

An irritating feeling of guilt overcame him. He shook his head.

“No, not at all. I've had no contact with the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters in over a week. Potter was being watched, as I've informed you, but the wards around the house were strong and no attack was planned for the near future.”

He paused. Molly Weasley's shoulders seemed to bend under a heavy burden, Dumbledore looked ten years older, and the mood in the room had suddenly morphed from anxiety to discouragement.

“I believe you, Severus,” came the calm voice of Dumbledore. “But we will need more information...”

The spy nodded.

“Maybe we could start with this? What exactly happened?”

“Harry disappeared last night.”

“On his birthday,” added Mrs. Weasley with a sob

“Yes, Molly, but we will find him again… Severus will see to that,” Dumbledore said, his trusting blue eyes fastened on Snape, who swallowed with difficulty.

Yes indeed, he seemed condemned to have to save Potter’s neck at least once a year, to keep the earth on its axis.

“In any case,” Dumbledore went on, “Harry actually disappeared during the night. What we do not understand is how.”

“Did he willingly leave the house?”asked Snape, resisting the urge to add, “in a bid for attention.”

“It is not that simple,” the headmaster sighed. “It would seem that after a violent argument, Harry’s uncle, with the consent of his aunt, told him that he was no longer welcome. After ordering him to pack and leave their house, his uncle said he left him alone in his room. He did not see him come out, and the window, although open, has bars on it; Harry could defenitely not have fled that way. What's more, all his belongings were left behind, including some things to which he is very attached...”

“Those bloody Muggles,” Moody grumbled. “Can’t trust them. I told you, Albus, you can’t rely on Muggles!”

“His family, Alastor,”Dumbledore quietly replied. “What seemed to be the safest and most appropriate place..”

Snape thoughtfully tapped his finger against his cheek. One could hardly blame those Muggles for not being able to stand the arrogant brat, but to deprive him of the blood wards that were protecting him seemed a bit excessive. What could the boy have done to make himself so unbearable to his relatives?

“I suppose that's not all of it?” he asked.

“No,” Dumbledore agreed. “A few moments after Harry’s uncle told him he was no longer welcome, two Death Eaters arrived.”

Snape straightened in his chair. They certainly hadn't wasted any time! And what was the Order of the Phoenix doing at that time?

“And so?” he asked, afraid of the answer

“Well, there lies the mystery. Apparantly, the Death Eaters did not find anything. They scared the Dursley family, but did not waste anymore time with them. It seems that they left empty-handed... but as for that, my boy, there is only one way to be sure.”

Snape nodded.

“I am surprised that the Dark Lord has not summoned me yet. There would be nothing strange in my going to him by myself, though I will not hide the fact of this meeting nor its purpose...”

Dumbledore lifted a hand and squeezed the professor’s shoulder.

“It is necessary, Severus. We need to know. If Harry has been captured...”

At that moment, Snape grimaced and suddenly grabbed at his Mark. All eyes turned to him.

“Behold the solution to the problem,” he said in a dull voice. Then, he turned to Dumbledore. “If I learn that the Death Eaters have actually captured Potter, I will not be contacting you until I can bring him back, or at least locate him. If that is not the case, I will let you know as soon as possible.”

The old wizard nodded gravely. The Order members around him were watching Severus a bit guiltily. Snape's eyes swept over their faces with a contemptuous look.

“Get the infirmary ready. If Lucius or Bellatrix have got their hands on Potter, they certainly will have earned the right to play with him...”

Without waiting for a reaction, he threw a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace and announced,“Snape Manor!”

The potions were on the table, tucked in a leather bag, ready for a hasty departure. Snape glanced at the fireplace : the cat had cracked an eye open at his arrival, but had not so much as got up. For the space of a second, the cat’s presence had the odd effet of untying the knot that had formed in his chest. Without wasting anymore time, Snape grabed the bag and put his hand on his Mark.

With a loud crack, he Disapparated from the laboratory.

The cat lazily flicked an ear. With a loud noise, the Man In Black had just disappeared right before his eyes! Was that strange…or what?

The question could wait. He yawned, displaying a wide mouth equipped with small sharp teeth. He was feeling good, warm, and comfortable; he was not hungry anymore and his injuries were nothing but a distant memory.

He vaguely mused that the situation was exceptionally pleasant. He felt a little befuddled… something was scratching his neck. He raised a leg before awkwardly putting it back on the ground. Scratching… ah yes! Frantically kicking with his hind leg, he rid himself of the unpleasant sensation, making the strange thing around his neck jingle. Ah, relief!

It was strange, really, how the least little move seemed unfamiliar. He snorted and sat up on the jumper, dispelling the last traces of sleep. He quickly glanced around him: the room was huge, illuminated only by an air vent and torches affixed to the stone wall. A cauldron was heating slowly in a corner, there were shelves everywhere, along with small vials, odd instruments, and books… The room was full, yet orderly.

Familar, and yet foreign.

He whipped his tail in frustration. Had he ever been here before? No.

But where had he been before?

He thought he could remember a small room, a window, bars, the full moon… and after that? Everything was a blur. He could see himself runing toward a large building, light, so light, and yet his leg pained him with every step... something kept telling him that he should find refuge there, at the manor. He'd heard a noise and hidden under a bush. Then the Man In Black had caught him and brought him here... Right, but before that?

The cat licked his nose with his tongue. He couldn’t remember before that. Did he even have a name?

Cat, the Man In Black had said.

Strange person, this Man In Black. He had a deep, sometimes threatening, and at the same time, entrancing voice. A voice that frightened him, but discouraged him from runing away. Where did he know this voice from? Something deeper resonated in his memory, but he couldn’t put his finger on it... or his paw, rather.

Leaving the matter for now, the cat looked at his dish. Empty. Too bad, maybe there would be more fish when the Man In Black returned? What to do in the meantime? Well, what were cats supposed to do? And why was he even wondering? He was a cat, for Merlin’s sake!

His fur stank of the salve that the Man In Black had put on it, and he decided that thorough bath would be a good way to remedy that. Concentrating, he gave an enthusiastic lick to his leg, then started to cough : no way! This was totally absurd, he had hairs on his tongue! What was he thinking? The Man In Black had washed him eariler and it had been fine that way! How on earth did cats manage to... damn, he was a cat!

Perplexed, he lounged for a moment. The vials definitely reminded him of something... they were definitely worth having a closer look.

Gathering his courage, he tried to jump onto the table, before crashing to the ground with a total lack of dignity.

Appalled, he checked quickly around him: great, nobody had seen him. Well, he had miscalculated the distance; that could happen to anyone, couldn’t it?

Gathering himself, he crouched and made a leap that landed him on the table, one leg giving out under his weight. His heart was pounding in his chest; maybe his leap had been lacking in grace, but here he was! He paused briefly; the leap had appeared phenomenal. When he'd jumped, his take-off had been incredible... how many times higher than his height had he sprung? It was like flying with a ... a... he couldn’t remember. No matter, it was perfectly normal for a cat. Cats were good jumpers. And elegant, too. Indeed.

Sensing that his legs would obey him again, he started to explore the huge wooden table. Staggering a bit, he navigated himself between the vials. A plethora of smells accosted his nose, and the fumes made his eyes blurry; his head was starting to spin. He had to sit for a moment... He sat his behind on the table when he felt something against his... his what? His tail, damn it, his tail which he had totally fogotten, and which had just knocked over a vial! He jumped to catch it, and stretched out his... paw? Stunned, he watched as the vial crashed to the stone floor below him, and then fragmented into thousands of tiny bits, making a frightening sound.

“Potter! You are not here to destroy everything you touch! Fifteen points from Gryffindor !”

From the depth of his mind, the voice paralysed him. Who? What? But the doors of his memory had shut again, and the cat could only stare, dismayed, as the potion seeped in between the tiles. Something told him that the Man In Black wasn't going to like this…

Opting for the innocence card, he hastened to jump to the floor and climbed back onto his jumper, where he curled up in a ball, his tail around him. He would best remember its existence, as it was useful for balance when jumping , but also took odd liberties when he forgot to control it!

His nose tucked under the object of his concern, he eventually went back to sleep.

It was the same noise that awakened him again : CRACK!

He started. He didn’t like waking up with a jump. His eyes sought out the origin of the noise: the Man In Black had just reappeared! Oh, maybe he was going to have something to eat! The memory of the vial crashing to the floor suddenly hit him, and he hid his nose in his fur again, pretending to sleep. Not him. Didn't do anything. No no no, slept on the jumper, didn’t move ! At all.

Assuming the most innocent of expressions, he waited, tracking the Man In Black out of the corner of his eye.

Snape put the heavy leather bag on the table. He would have to quickly find the necessary ingredients for the Dark Lord's potions; he was going to run out of time… and the master was not by nature a patient man. Especially now that Potter had once more slipped through his fingers.

His eye was caught by fragments of glass on the floor.

" Potter!” he roared, before correcting himself, “Cat!”

The cat lifted an innocent and surprised nose.

" Who else, you little hypocrite!”

Grabbing the cat by the scruff of his neck, he lifted him to eye-level.

“So? I can’t take points from you, you stupid and disgraceful animal, but I am very tempted to put you outdoors!”

The cat gave him an unhappy and confused look. Snape examined him more closely: his wounds were beginning to heal, but they were probably still painful. Why did cats have to be so curious and systematically ruin the potions most difficult to brew?

Groaning, he put the cat back on the floor and started to gather up the debris.

It was definitely a bad day. And now, he had to go and find Dumbledore to make his report, which would only afford him a measure of relief. At least, Dumbledore did not have that dreadful habit of cursing people with Cruciatus when he was unhappy...

He threw a suspicious glance at the cat who had taken refuge under a closet.

He had taken on the responsibility to heal this cat and could not decently put it back outside in this state… The corner of his lips curled slightly.

" Very well, my little friend. We are going to kill two birds with one stone.”

Cutting a new piece of fish, he put it in the bowl, followed quickly by two potions. A few drops of artificial flavoring on top of it...

" Dinner is served! "

Forgetting his fear, the cat rushed to the dish and began to empty it as quickly as possible.

"No style, no dignity. The spitting image of your human counterpart. "

He watched the cat finish its food with a slow smile. Hardly had he swallowed the last bite, than the cat suddenly felt drowsy… He had no time to think about reaching his jumper before he was already asleep, his head in the empty dish.

Snape lifted him and gently laid him on the jumper.

" Lion or cat, one is never wary enough with a Slytherin, let that be a lesson for you...”

For a moment, he watched the black cat who had curled up into a ball. One less thing to worry about. What a pity he couldn’t deal that easily with human problems, in particular a certain Gryffindor student...

Snape scowled. Potter. It was time to go and find Dumbledore... With a determined gesture, he threw another fistful of Floo poweder in the fireplace.

“Dumbledore’s office, Hogwarts!”

One stride later, he was in the Headmaster’s office. The portraits watched his arrival with curiosity; Fawkes greeted him with a welcoming song to which he had become accustomed. The Potions Master was surprised to realize that this very room was the most soothing place he had ever known. The only place where he could, for a few moments, stop pretending and feel safe.

A feeling that was mainly due to the presence of the long, silver-haired wizard who was looking at him benevolently , a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

" Severus, what a pleasure to see you! Come in, take a seat!” The man's relief was obvious.

Snape did as he was told. He suddenly felt very tired and accepted the comfort of armchair with gratitude. Dumbledore seemed to understand, and he gave the Potions Master a moment to relax.

"Tea, Severus?”

Snape shook his head and straightened up. The muscles in his back were aching; the sleepless nights had not been kind to him, and the Cruciatus curses the Dark Lord seemed so fond of hadn’t helped much, either.

" He was not captured,” he finally announced, forestalling the questions to come. He saw the old wizard relax in his turn, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His relief was short-lived, though, and worry, even if slightly lessened, returned to his weary look.

" Thank Merlin. Are you sure?”

" Absolutely. Your information was correct, Lucius and Bellatrix left empty-handed. "

Snape saw the Headmaster frown.

" Yes, they were on duty that night. They are the most diligent watchers of Privet Drive. A great privilege... the Dark Lord bestows on them a high degree of trust. In any case, they actually witnessed the destruction of the wards that protected Potter, when his uncle told him he was no longer welcome at home. It took them only a few minutes to make sure that the coast was clear and enter the house of these damned Muggles… "

He paused to take a deep breath.

" Apparently, Potter took advantage of those few minutes to flee, however he did it. Probably by Disapparating, I can’t figure out any other explanation...”

Dumbledore nodded.

" That is a possibility. However, Harry doesn’t know how to Disapparate on his own, someone would have had to come and collect him; someone who would have known about the failing of the wards before Lucius and Bellatrix, and been faster than they. Anyway I look at it, I do not think it is plausible.”

" Not very likely, no, " Snape acknowledged. “Lestrange and Malfoy are not what you could call beginners, and their zeal was beyond reproach. Evidently, that was not the Dark Lord's opinion...” he added with a dark smile.

"No," Dumbledore said softly , "I suppose, in fact, that Voldemort has not appreciated the outcome of this little adventure…"

" Mild understatement,” Snape muttered. “Bellatrix and Lucius were terrified at the idea of having to explain to their master how close they came to handing him Potter on a silver platter. They'd thought for a moment that they won the Death Eater Finale Cup... just before the Snitch escaped. It is safe to say that even if Potter was still at Privet Drive, Lestrange and Malfoy wouldn’t have been in any shape to ensure their guard there for a long time. The Dark Lord was very upset, and he generously shared his disapointment with his circle.”

Dumbledore’s expression became pained as he intensely watched his Potionsteacher.

" And I suppose, Severus, that you were not immune to his wrath…”

Snape didn’t blink.

" Voldemort seems to share the common belief that I am responsible for Potter’s fate. It was thus logical that I would equally share Lucius and Bella’s punishment; all the more because I didn’t have any satifying news to bring to appease his dissatisfaction.”

Dumbledore suddenly seemed even older and more tired that a moment before.

" Severus, my boy… I know we are asking much from you… a bit too much, perhaps. "

Snape shrugged in annoyance.

" My choices were made a long time ago, and I didn’t need anyone to enforce them. No need to waste your pity on my fate, Dumbledore. You and I know perfectly well it is still too merciful compared to what it could be... and we don’t have more time to waste on this matter. Now that we know what did not happen to Potter, we need to know what actually occured in that house. As exceptional as this child is supposed to be, he couldn't have disappeared in the blink of an eye.”

Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, it's unlikely. It is a great relief to know that he is not in the hands of Voldemort, but his disappearance remains alarming. I have no doubt that Harry would have headed straight for the Burrow or Hogwarts if he had had the opportunity to do so, and if he had been rescued by an ally… why did this one not bring him back to us? No, I am afraid that Harry, wherever he is, is not safe … but if Voldemort has not yet managed to find him, there is still room for optimism. We must now begin to consider all possibilities, to follow all leads. Can I count on you, Severus?”

“Of course,” he dryly replied.

.

Snape sank a little deeper in his chair as he thought. Over the years, the boy had become an expert on sneaking around the castle, but could that really have helped him to escape the Death Eaters? James' invisibility cloak would have been useless…
He tapped his finger against his cheek. A very distrubing idea had just crossed his mind...

“Albus, is there a possibility, even a slight one, that Potter could be an Animagus?”

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow.

“An Animagus, Severus? Well, although his father and godfather managed to become one right under my nose and beard, Harry has been nearly constantly under watch since his arrival at Hogwarts. Considering all that has happened to him since then, I doubt very much that he was able to acquire that skill without me knowing it.”

Snape kept on staring off into space, unsettled.

" Any reason for you to think about that, Severus? "

" Perhaps,” the Potions Master said. “I trust your judgment, Albus, however, I ask you to consider my question carefully ... Is there any chance it could have happened?”

The old wizard threw him a piercing glance through which a growing curiosity sparked.

" Well, I think there is only one way to be sure. It is ten in the morning, I think that Mr Weasley and Miss Granger must be awake by now.”

He stepped to the fireplace and threw in a handful of Floo powder.

" The Burrow!”

Pushing his head into the green flames, Dumbledore cast a quick glance around him.

" Molly! I do hope I am not disturbing you? "

" Professor Dumbledore! Do you have any news of Harry? " asked the plump woman who was busily preparing the breakfast table.

" Severus just came back with some reassuring news ; we still don’t know what happened to Harry, but Voldemort played no part in his disapearance. "

Molly Weasley let out a loud sigh of relief and threw herself into the nearest chair.

" Thank Merlin… Ron and Hermione will be so relieved ! I'm at a loss over what to do to keep them from trying to find him on their own! They're sick with worry... as we all are.”

" Precisely, Molly. Are the children awake? I would like to talk to them for a moment in my office, if you don’t mind.”

" Of course. I’ll get them. "

A moment later, the voice of Mrs Weasley could be heard, and Ron and Hermione rushed into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger.”

" Professor Dumbledore! " they both exclaimed at the same time. “How is Harry? Where is he?”

"I regret to say that I do not know yet, but we are now sure that he was not kidnapped by Voldemort. "

The two teenagers let out a cry of relief.

" If you have a moment, would you two come to my office, please?”

Puzzled, the two children nodded, and then stepped through the fireplace as soon as Dumbledore’s head had disapeared.

The first thing Ron saw as he stepped into the Headmaster's office was the Potions professor, sitting in his armchair with his legs crossed. Ron couldn’t help but make a face and then turned to Dumbledore with a questioning look.

A reassuring smile on his lips, the Headmaster motioned for them to sit down.

" Ron, Hermione, I know that Harry’s safety is your main concern.”

Both teens nodded with conviction.

" I also know that he considers you as his best friends and keeps no secrets from you. " Dumbledore went on, “However, I have a question to ask you. A very important question about Harry. No matter the answer, I beg you to tell me the truth... You understand, I think, that it is now a matter of life and death, don’t you?”

Again, Ron and Hermione nodded, more and more intruigued.

" Good… the friendship between the three of you shares many common points with the one that once bonded Remus, Sirius and James. I also know that you do not disagree with that comparison, and that you will gladly follow in their footsteps. Ron, Hermione, did Harry ever think about becoming an Animagus like his father?”

Ron and Hermione stood with their mouths gaping. The two wizards were watching them closely, mindful of their reactions.

" No! " Ron was the first to cry out. " No, not at all! We talked about it when we found out about Moony, Prongs and Padfoot, but... no, we would have never had the patience, the time...” He shot Hermione an apologetic look. “Well, I suppose it would have been easy for Hermione, but... no!”

.

Hermione, recovered from her surprise, agreed.

" No, Professor. Harry never seriously considered it. And he couldn’t ever have done it without us knowing,” she said in a firmly.

Dumbledore nodded and turned to Snape.

“Does this answer your question?”

Snape nodded. He had carefully watch the two adolescents and he was sure they were not lying.

The idea was stupid, really, but the coincidence of this cat showing up at his place the very same day Potter had disappeared, with that mark on his forehead and his green eyes...

Bah. It was ridiculous, of course; half of the cat population had green eyes, and the mark itself was not extraordinary. It was probably rare, mildly amusing, but nothing exceptional.

He sighed; he'd been asked to explore every lead, and he would do it, even the most unlikely of them.

" Thank you for your time, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley. You can go back to the Burrow, and tell Molly that I thank her for the pies she sent.”

" Mum doesn't know what to do to keep her mind busy,” Ron groaned. “But... Professor, as you just said, you can trust us about Harry’s safety. Couldn’t we help with the serach?”

" My boy, you just have. I'd like nothing better than to ask for your help, but we don’t have the slighest lead right now. You will be more useful by staying available in case we need other information about Harry.”

Ron nodded his head reluctantly, and Dumbledore saw a glimmer of understanding flash in Hermione's eyes. The girl was not fooled by the scheme to keep them at the Burrow, but the pretext had been genuine nonetheless.

They both said goodbye to the Headmaster, and with the promise that they'd be contacted the moment he learned something about Harry, they went back through the fireplace.

Snape hadn’t budged an inch, but had sunk back into his armchair. The accumulation of strain and tension had finally got to him.

Dumbledore looked at him sympathetically.

" Severus, may I ask you what made you think that Harry might have become an Animagus? "

Snape suddenly felt ridiculous. A black cat with a funny mark on his forhead, who was good at breaking potions vials ? He would rather die than to admit he was sheltering a feline version of the Golden Boy, and that he had even entertained the notion that this skinny fleabag could have been the boy...

He shook his head to get rid of the idea.

" No matter. Albus, if you don’t need me for the moment… "

" Of course, my boy, " Dumbledore hastened to answer. “You deserve some sleep! I will contact you if we need your help. Do not worry about anything, you’ve already done a great deal for us... and for Harry.”

Severus groaned.

" Potter is nothing but a symbol. A symbol and a weapon that I am not ready to give up. As for sleeping, that is not for today. The Dark Lord might not be happy with my spying for the Order, but he still needs his Potions Master. Now, if I may...”

Dumbledore nodded reluctanctly, and watched the professor walk stiffily to the fireplace. Snape worried him. Physical and nervous exhaustion would get the better of him, if his anger didn’t do him in beforehand...

The first thing Severus Snape did on entering his lab was check that the little monster was still asleep. He was relieved to see the cat peer up at him with the bleary-eyed look of one who has slept deeply: nothing in the room was out of place, so at least disaster had been averted today.

The cat stretched sluggishly on his jumper, finding it hard to wake up. That fish had had a strange, bitter aftertaste… and he'd fallen asleep again. There was something not quite right here … The little voice that ceaselessly kept telling him not to trust the Man had woken up.

But was it really so bad after all? He'd never slept so much in his life! Cats were said to sleep a lot… cats. Cats?

He dismissed the thought ; his mind was too foggy to think right now. The Man In Black was back ! Maybe he'd get something else to eat? He headed toward the Man unsteadily.

Snape had no time to waste. He didn’t know when the Dark Lord would call him again and it was out of the question to give him another excuse to torture him. Not that he needed an excuse anyway…

He pulled out his wand and lit a fire under a cauldron. What was he going to need ? His thoughts wandered back to the Death Eater meeting. Lucius and Bellatrix had already been in a sorry state when he arrived, but their master’s rage had not as of yet cooled. Much on the contrary…

Snape’s ignorance of Potter’s fate had aggravated his wrath. Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort and his closest Death Eaters had settled, now looked like the seventh circle of Hell, terror and suffering poisoning the atmosphere. Some Death Eaters, Lucius and Bellatrix among them, had been lying on the ground, moaning, while others had been trying to appear inconspicuous and escape Riddle's murderous rage. Broken furniture and the charred remnants of paintings littered the floor.

Snape had briefly thought that, all things considered, the Order meeting hadn't been all that bad.

He shuddered, remembering what had followed. The icy, smooth voice of the Dark Lord calling him to his side, asking him how he could have missed such an important piece of information… how could he not know what had happened to Potter, how he had escaped ? Nothing frightened Severus more than that artificially friendly voice…

When he'd finally admitted that he hadn't been able to extract any more information out of the Order, Voldemort had stopped feigning sympathy.

He'd no doubt made it very clear what he thought of his spy’s incompetence, but Snape hadn't heard it. At that point, he'd been too busy trying to withstand the Cruciatus curse.

Yes, the Dark Lord had been particularly upset. When he'd finally let him go to prepare his potions, it had taken Snape several minutes to get to his feet and gather enough strength to head for the fireplace.

Now, he had to remember what the Dark Lord wanted in his next delivery…

He turned towards the cupboard and jumped. A few feet away from him, the cat was watching him, sitting on his backside, his large green eyes full of hope and curiosity.

Suddenly, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the pain, the anguish disappeared, leaving only the comical sight of this animal watching him with his strange bleary look, with those eyes which reminded him so much of another set……

He let out a long breath, realising only then that he had been practically holding his breath back since the meeting at Grimmauld Place, breathing only shallowly.

How was this cat able to stand out in such sharp contrast to the room he was in, given this day? It was just a black cat, one of those cats who were supposed to bring bad luck and stare at you with piercing eyes, like a Legilimens, to make you ill at ease.

But this one just looked as though he didn’t know what to do with himself, as if he'd just fallen from the sky with absolutely no idea of how he was supposed to act. Or be.

Kittens were always funny, he thought, and this one had still not quite grown out of being one.

"You can’t be hungry already, you only ate a few hours ago!" he told the cat, who watched him, his head cocked to the side..

"Hmm. I suppose that in your case, a little extra food wouldn't hurt."

The cat watched the Man In Black as he filled his bowl with fish, adding a strange liquid to it. He licked his chops : the man truly understood him ! He'd been afraid the man would forget him, busy as he was with his potions. He had seemed tenser with each pass though the fireplace. The cat could tell from his posture that he was in pain, and even more clearly, that he was nervous.

Something told him that it would be best not to draw attention to himself when the man was like this, but he couldn’t help sitting quietly, a few steps away. He would have actually enjoyed some food, but even more than that, he wished confusedly to be able to do something to calm the man…

The Man In Black had taken good care of him and given him food. Still, something deep inside of him told him that the man didn’t like him. Not at all.

Yet he'd let him stay comfortably by the fire, his belly full and his wounds taken care of……

All of this confused the cat. He stayed there, watching the man as he worked, not knowing what else to do, until the man turned around and caught sight of him.

For a moment, his expression seemed pained and troubled, but then the light in his eyes gave way to a measure of amusement. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and… he'd remembered to give him some fish !

The cat was doubly pleased: not only was his bowl full, but the Man In Black seemed less upset now!

He knew that cats were not supposed to be grateful and something deep inside him told him to be wary of the man and his food. But for now, gratitude and hunger silenced all his inner voices.

Snape watched as the cat devoured the fish with its usual enthusiasm. The cat was eating as if it was afraid he’d never see food again… The more he thought about it, the less he liked that. If not for the odd collar, Severus would've without a doubt categorized it as an abused and abandoned cat. The animal never rubbed against his legs, it tensed when his hand reached out, and showed all the signs of having been mistreated.

He was tempted to examine the collar again, but gave up the idea. It would be a shame to bother the cat during his meal; the show was simply too funny.

Funny ?

Yes, the cat was funny. How anything could still manage to entertain him after recent events, and especially while the saviour of the wizarding world was still missing and maybe even dead, he didn’t know which it was, but he welcomed the distraction.

If anyone ever learned that he was smiling over the antics of a young cat that evoked Harry Potter, he swore that he'd Obliviate them.

The cat licked his chops. He waited a while to see if sleep would come again, but nothing happened so he looked around with satisfaction.

The Man In Black had returned to his potions. He seemed less nervous now, but also more tired. His movements were precise but weary, as he manipulated the ingredients in silence.

The cat stretched out to watch him. His silhouette seemed familiar... those black wizard's robes, the long hair that fell to his shoulders...

His greasy hair...

Why did the idea amuse him? Like an old joke he would've forgotten where he'd first heard it...

A few black strands fell into his face, which was focused on his work. A veritable mask, the cat could read only determination there. What could be troubling the man so much? He didn't smile, his voice was often threatening. But somehow, this seemed both natural and familiar to the cat.

The cat lost himself in a contemplation of the man's hypnotic gestures.

"Open your books to page 208 ."

The cat blinked.

"Too light. Add another root, Weasley."

Things jumbled together in the cat’s head. The Man In Black, with potions, in a dungeon, but not this one... other people...

"Potter! If you spent as much time studying as you do signing autographs, your potions might perhaps resemble something other than soup! Five points from Gryffindor!"

A sudden feeling of hatred for the Man In Black took the cat by surprise, then faded away. He got up and turned around in a circle..

Potter, the Man In Black had called him Potter when he'd yelled at him. Was it some sort of insult? Probably.... ' Potter ' did stupid things. The Man didn't like Potter. But when he was ' The Cat ', he gave him food and paid him attention to him. Since he'd been, he'd felt safe and had no longer worried about anything.

In his memory, it seemed to him that a black cloud hovered over him menacingly... something which never went away, which oppressed him, against which he should have fought, but could do nothing...

Here, all of that no longer mattered. When he'd crossed over the dungeon's threshold, he'd left the hovering cloud behind. The Man In Black had chased it away by taking him in his arms...

After several hours spent grinding, mixing, stirring and boiling, Snape was finally able to look up from his workbench. Everything was ready; the only thing left to do was to wait for his potions to finish heating or settling. He was finally going to be able to take a potion to relieve the pain that Cruciatus had seared into his muscles. He'd been afraid that without that constant burning sensation, he wouldn't have been able to concentrate enough to finish his work. He'd never needed much sleep, not even when he'd been a student at Hogwarts, but Voldemort's little games had drained his energy.

The worry, as well…

He settled himself carefully in the room's only armchair, opposite the fireplace. The cat watched him, eyes half-closed, while he drank the potion. The tension bled slowly out of his body, leaving his mind free to wander.

He reviewed the course of his long day. First of all, this cat, come out of nowhere, covered in blood. Then the meeting at Grimmauld Place and Potter's disappearance. The general hostility. Voldemort's call, his interrogation, his dissatisfaction – once again. No matter what he did, it never seemed to be enough.

He looked at the cat, which hadn't taken its eyes off him. It looked half-intrigued, half-afraid to see him up so close. He stretched out his hand to touch it and the cat hunched slightly away from him.

"Let's see how you're doing... your wounds look better. They're not fully closed yet, but they should heal up well. It looks like you haven't tried to lick them... odd little cat".

He thought for a moment. Yes, the wounds had responded well to the salve. The cat seemed more comfortable, more lively than when he'd found it, which wasn't at all surprising, considering how much he'd eaten. But Severus felt that he might fall asleep, and a lively, curious cat in a lab full of unstable potions was exactly what he didn't need. He thought about shutting the cat in a room... But the day was so lovely, he said to himself, looking out the basement window. Surely a young cat would be better off playing outside, now that his wounds weren't troubling him so much.

Of course, there was always the chance that the cat would go home and never come back... But it would be just as well, Snape decided..

He looked at the little black body curled up on his sweater. The animal had been the only positive thing in these past two days of vigil. Who knew, maybe it would come back when it was hungry, now that it had found a full bowl?

The Potions professor stood and took the cat in his arms.

"Time to go. You must be wanting your freedom. I hope that you'll have the intelligence not to go back to whoever did this to you..." he said, running his hand over the fur of the trembling cat.

The cat's heart was beating like it would burst. All his muscles tensed as he felt the Man In Black carry him up the stairs, open the heavy wooden door, and set him down in the grass.

"Take care of yourself, Cat," said the man in a low voice, before turning on his heel and closing the door on the cat..

Paralyzed, the cat didn't dare to move at first. He felt the wind in his fur, then heard a crackling from somewhere behind him and leapt into the air.

The lab! He wanted to go back down, to be warm, on the sweater, near the Man In Black! Why had he put him outside?

He looked around. Where to go? What to do? He wasn't afraid, but he didn't feel safe either. Even though his wounds weren't really hurting him anymore, he still needed rest. Caring. Food. Protection? Just for a little while, before the black shadow came back….

Lost, the cat took a few steps in the grass. Trailing along the wall, he looked despairingly for another opening.

A few meters from the door, he finally found a break in the wall, an arch with bars over it... He shivered. He didn't like bars... But beyond the bars, there was a window. And behind that window, he could see the familiar shadows of the dungeon, the fireplace, the table, the shelves... and the Man In Black who had finally fallen asleep in his armchair.

“Better than nothing," he thought.

And he curled up in a ball against the window.

Snape dreamt of the Dark Lord.

Not too surprising, giveng recent events, he mused, vaguely aware he was dreaming.Voldemort was unhappy. Lucius and Bellatrix's faces were twisted. Dumbledore was disappointed. Tonks, Moody and the Weasleys were glaring at him accusingly.

"You must protect Harry! Where is Harry?"

The faces swirled around him.

The eyes... and in the middle of them, a pair of green ones that looked at him differently..

"Thank you... "

Lily?

But the face changed. No, not Lily; Potter. No, not Potter either...

The cat sprang from the circle of his accusers and bounded to his side. It winked at Severus conspiratorily, then took up a stand between Severus and the others.

“He took care of me! Don’t you dare say anything!"

Snape woke up with a start.

That cat!

His gaze drifted to the deserted jumper at the side of the fireplace. He felt a moment of doubt, but no, he had put the cat out before going to sleep. Feeling slightly guilty, he thought that he could have fed him beforehand… if only to reward him for having defended him in a dream.

What was the time? He looked up at the air vent and startled.

Two green eyes, full of hope, were watching him. It had started to rain and the cat was trembling slightly, but seemed to have no intention of moving,looking into the lab through the window, as if he would've liked to Apparate to the inside..

Grumbling, Snape climbed the stairs and opened the door. The cat left his niche, soaked with rain, and gave the Potions Master a distraught look.

"Why didn’t you go home? Are you still too weak? It’s ridiculous to sit there in the rain like that!"

Severus was troubled; this cat truly didn’t behave like an ordinary cat. He motioned to the door with his chin.

“Come on, go in.”

The cat seemed to hesitate, but didn’t move, his gaze more questioning than ever.

Snape grumbled again and went to pick up the cat. The cat froze, but didn’t try to fight as the man took him back into the dungeon.

Snape refused to admit it, but he felt somewhat satisfied…

Snape soon had to admit to the evidence: the cat had absolutely no intention of leaving. He'd immediately retaken possession of his jumper, of the laboratory, and obviously of the Potions master himself.

At the beginning, Snape had put the cat outside each time he'd had to leave for a while ; the animal hadn't liked it at first, but then, realising that his exile was only temporary, it had used the time to take a bit of sun..

But he was always at the door or the air vent when the Man came back to get him…

The rest of the house didn't interest him. He'd been tempted to follow Snape when he invited him to do so, but he didn’t like the thought of leaving the protection of the dungeon. So, he'd contented himself with watching worriedly as the man walked away, wishing he would stay with him by the fire…

Snape hadn't insisted. In a way, the cat was now part of the decor of the laboratory. He watched him brewing potions for hours, lying on his jumper or seated on a chair, a discreet and friendly presence and… yes, comforting too, as strange as that might seem. The green eyes blinked each time their eyes met, as if to say, "Well done!” and while the whole world seemed to reproach him for his incompetence, this look of approval had a value all its own..

And Snape got used to the cat’s presence far more quickly than he would have thought. Outside, the wizarding world was shaken and shouting. Potter’s disappearance had not been made public, but the rumour was spreading like wildfire…

The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters had both pulled out all the stops to be the first to find the precious brat, and Snape, stuck between them, was playing mediator. Both sides intended to make him an active participant, and to get him to extort as much information as possible from the other.

Of course, neither Voldemort nor the Order was given the slightest lead, and both were both equally unhappy with his services.

Only Dumbledore and Molly Weasley still took the trouble to encourage him, acknowledging his thankless part in this affair ; but the more time passed, the more tensions mounted and tongues became sharper.

The chances of finding Potter alive were dwindling. Many thought that he had splinched himself, trying to Apparate alone, or that he'd ended up in the middle of an ocean or in some other place just as stupid as well as dangerous.

The Dark Lord himself started to believe it. Only the fear of a trap prevented him from spreading the news of Potter’s death. Nothing could better demoralise the wizarding world than the loss of its hero and hope…

Snape himself was becoming more and more pessimistic. As arrogant as Potter was, he had this vision of wanting to try to save the world that made him almost credible in the role of Champion of the Light. And now, because of this untalented and uninteresting brat, the wizarding world was on the verge of collapse…

The cat was for the moment the only living being of his acquaintance that was not shaken by the whole affair, and who still considered him a perfectly respectable and interesting person. Snape was very grateful to the cat for this.

After a week had passed, Snape had to admit that the animal had decided to set up house in the laboratory, and not just for a temporary visit.

He looked at the cat who seemed lost in the contemplation of his gestures.

"So, Cat? Do you like it here?"

The cat blinked.

“Then I suppose I have no say in it. Or, perhaps, just one thing. If you must stay here, we will have to find you a more fitting name than ‘Cat’. ”

The cat looked up again at the familiar word.

Snape thought, “Hmm’ Cat’ seems to suit you…. Catsbie, Caton? No, ridiculous. It should be something more appropriate for a laboratory cat.”

He pondered for a moment.

“What would you say to Shadow ? ”

The cat inclined its head and blinked.

“Shadow it is, then.”

Severus returned to his potions. He had rarely felt so ridiculous in all his life, speaking to a cat and giving it a name. But, the animal had managed to soften him. He could blame the tension of the last few weeks, the hopelessness of the situation, the hostility or the general antipathy towards him; the result was the same. He had developed an affection for this black cat who did not behave like a cat and who had Potter-like mannerisms.

People might think whatever they wanted, he had every intention of keeping the cat for as long as it wanted to remain.

It seemed to Snape that the cat wanted to prove that it deserved the status of Potions Cat. Snape had dozed off in its presence several times or had forgotten it when leaving hastily, but the animal had never again got into mischief. It sat or lay quietly where there was no risk of breaking or disturbing anything and did nothing to draw attention to itself.

It was altogether strange, mused Snape, more than a week after he had recovered Shadow. He had never heard the cat meow, neither to ask to go out or come in, nor for food. It contented itself with sitting by its bowl or by the door, waiting almost apologetically to be noticed.

In many ways, it didn’t behave like its fellow cats. For example, it did not seem very keen on the idea of cleaning itself. Snape had seen it try to give its fur a lick or two several times, before coughing and spitting in disgust, which never failed to make Snape smile in spite of himself.

One day during a downpour, when the cat sat by the door, the Potions master wondered what was going through its head. He climbed up and opened the door, watching the animal as he did so. He saw it run into the rain towards the outfall of a gutter and jump happily under the falling water, with the satisfaction of someone showering after a trying day.

Snape had never claimed to understand animals, but his jaw dropped nonetheless. After a few minutes spent soaking itself under the water, the cat had seemed satisfied and rejoined the Potions master, who had stayed to watch the cat in the rain, not able to keep from observing the spectacle.

“Shadow ! Are you sure you didn’t forget your soap? Are you the only one not aware that cats are supposed to hate water and wash themselves? What are you doing outside? "

The cat looked at him with its head cocked to one side, as it always did when it listened attentively to the Potions master.

The man sighed.

“I suppose I'm going to have to carry you downstairs, soaked through like that? Very clever, actually, worthy of your double, Mr Potter!”

The cat hung its head a bit more. He didn’t like that name.

The man took the cat in his arms. Shadow climbed the stairs alone, but always seemed to fear going down, so Snape had got into the habit of carrying it. At first, the cat held itself stiffly in his arms until it was put down again, but after a while was able to relax and now seemed to appreciate being carried.

Once on the ground again, the cat ran to the hearth to warm up again. The fire was low and the cat almost had to scorch its fur in its efforts to get dry.

Snape hesitated. All the evidence suggested that the cat had no intention of licking itself. He shook his head and took{del sp} a clean towel from his wardrobe. Sitting in the armchair, he caught hold of the cat and settled it on his knees, wrapping it in the towel.

Shadow stayed still. What was happening? He felt like a prisoner, as hands started rubbing his fur with a type of blanket… He relaxed a bit. It was the Man In Black, who never hurt him and it wasn’t so unpleasant really…. Not unpleasant at all, in fact!

The cat melted into the towel and closed its eyes.

Snape smiled in spite of himself. Shadow didn’t seem to be used to being touched, much less rubbed, but from his expression it seemed there was no objection. Snape massaged the cat’s head gently, so as not to hurt it. The cuts had closed up, but they'd been deep enough to still hurt… though not at the moment, judging by the cat’s blissful demeanor .

Something was missing, though. Yes, Snape realized, a normal cat would've purred. This one purred no more than it meowed.

Something told him that this animal had had little reason to purr in its lifetime.

Snape was not a demonstrative person, neither with people nor animals, and he appreciated the fact that the cat was not of the sort to stick close to him all the time, begging for pets. Still, he would have preferred that the animal not startle at the slightest sudden movement or tense when he reached out to touch it..

A sudden pain in his forearm made him jump. The Dark Lord was calling him. He felt suddenly guilty. He was busy looking after a cat while a war was on the horizon. Thank Merlin, all his potions were ready. He looked at the cat who was almost asleep on the towel. He lifted it carefully and put it on the armchair. He hoped the cat would stay there so he wouldn't be in danger of stepping on it when he returned.

Throwing a fistful of powder into the fireplace, the spy reluctantly enunciated the name of Malfoy Manor and disappeared.

The cat opened an eye. Where was Man In Black ? Why had he stopped the massage? The cat didn’t like it when the man left. He always came back nervous and out of sorts. He would've truly liked to have been able to do something for him. The cat was sorry he couldn't understand what was wrong. The Man In Black didn’t talk much and the cat didn’t always understand everything. The words made sense individually, but put together, they were often a bit confusing.

But there was one he understood very well : Shadow! This was the name the man called him and he liked it very much. It made him feel as though he belonged a bit in this place and with this man, as though he had officially offered him his protection.

Only the Man in Black called him this , of that he was sure. His own Man in Black, the one who fed him fish, who let him stay close by , where he was safe, and who carried him down the stairs. . His front leg still hurt when he had to go down the stairs, but over time, he'd mostly learnt to like being in the arms of the Man who held him firmly so he didn't fall. .

Yes, his name was Shadow. He was under the protection of the Man In Black, and he intended to do his best to protect the man as well. He'd known instinctively that he shouldn't disturb him when he was working with his vials. He had this look of concentration, brow furrowed, face hard, a look Shadow feared deep inside.

So when the Potions master turned to look at him him, he tried to put as much trust and calm into his eyes as he could ,and he saw the man relax a little, just because of the look they shared.

That made Shadow feel satisfied, even happy.

Truth be told, even if his memories before his arrival at the manor were vague; he could not recall having been so happy, so at peace.

The only thing that he still had to do was to help the Man In Black.

When the man came back through the fireplace, Shadow jumped off the armchair. He wasn’t at all certain that he was allowed to be there.

The man shot him a troubled glance before collapsing in the armchair. The cat watched him breathing rapidly, his body tense and trembling slightly. The Potions master often returned tired and on edge, but never to this extent.

Shadow hesitated. With eyes closed, sprawled in his armchair, the man didn’t seem to be able to catch his breath. Gathering its courage, the cat jumped delicately onto the arm of the chair and stretched out against the man’s shoulder, trying with all its might to give him its calmness and warmth.

Snape jumped and looked to see what was moving against his arm. Shadow. Shadow, who looked up at him with his big green eyes full of worry. .

He tried to breathe more deeply, focusing his attention on the cat pressed against him, on the calm it radiated and on the eyes which resembled Lily’s more than ever.

A few minutes later, he felt his body relax and the pain dissipate little by little. He was familiar with the Cruciatus, but rarely before had he been subjected to it for so long. Things were deteriorating, little by little,at the Order of the Phoenix as well as at Malfoy Manor.

Slowly, he succeeded in regaining control of his muscles. Grateful, he lifted a hand and scratched the cat's head. Shadow seemed as surprised as he was by the gesture, but did not shy away. For an instant, they looked at each other, an exchange of gratitude and affection.

When Snape felt himself sink into a healing sleep, he heard what he had believed to be impossible.

Shadow was purring. .

After two weeks on a diet of fish and potions, the cat appeared less terribly thin, though its ribs were still prominent. The potions seemed to be working perfectly, contrary to what Snape had feared, and the cat seemed to be adapting well to its new life. It no longer tensed as much when Snape wanted to touch it, and the lost, fearful and resigned look had become more peaceful and serene.

Snape had finally decided to transfigure a chair into an armchair identical to his own and had put the cat’s jumper there. This stopped him from crushing the animal each time he used the fireplace, which was becoming more and more frequent as Potter’s absence dragged on.

He was surprised to feel himself impatient to return home , no longer just for the tranquility of the dungeon, but for the silent presence of the cat. For the little flash of relief in its eyes when he returned, for its warmth against his shoulder when he relaxed in the armchair, and especially for Shadow’s calm and trusting gaze.

Strangely, he had never felt so close to a living being since…. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that, not tonight.

He got up and walked toward the door.

“I’m going to bed. Don’t get into mischief. Goodnight, Shadow.”

The cat blinked and jumped onto its armchair.

Shadow.

He liked his name and the sound of the Man’s voice when he said it. He liked their routine, the bowls of fish, the fire, the naps on the arm of the chair next to the Man In Black.

Of course, the man was nervous and tired, more so each time he returned. But that was Outside; here they were safe, and Shadow truly liked that he could comfort the man.

Tonight, he had left by the door to the corridor, so he would not be gone long and he would not be wounded when he returned. Perfect.

Everything was perfect, thought the cat. The black cloud which had been weighing on him was far away. For the first time, he thought that perhaps this respite might last. That the black shadow would never return.

He fell asleep, curled in a ball, with an almost human smile on his face.

When, some hours later, Severus Snape opened the door to his laboratory and looked for the cat, he could only stand, frozen in place, his mouth hanging open.

In the armchair where Shadow normally slept was an adolescent, huddled up and sound asleep.

Not just any adolescent… The messy black hair, the glasses, the scar… It could only be….

“Potter!” he shouted, in a voice more threatening than he would've liked..

The boy woke up with a start, frightened. His green eyes met those of the man, and as Snape watched, he transformed into a cat, the same black cat that had become so familiar to him, who had chosen to stay with him since the day of Potter's disappearance...

Shadow.

Harry Potter.

In the dungeon time seemed to come to a standstill. Man and cat stared at one another, frozen like statues.

"Potter!" Snape shouted.

The cat jumped. That name again? The Man In Black seemed furious, his expression darker than ever. The cat could read anger there, and something else like ...betrayal ?

The cat made itself even smaller on the armchair. The man had never hurt him, but he had also never looked at him like that.

Snape didn't know if he should feel relieved or furious. The stupid child had been there for two weeks and had not bothered to show himself! He had taken advantage of his appearance to fool him, and had let himself be treated like a cat, laughing up his sleeve, no doubt, at the naivety of his professor. Snape clenched his teeth as he remembered the last few days... the way he had talked to the cat, had cared for and comforted it... even petted it.

That said, he could never have imagined the boy looking at him in the same way the cat did. A mixture of respect and trust, both of which were unusual for him.

Snape snarled.

"That's enough, Potter, your disguise has been discovered, resume your usual form at once. You thoughtless idiot, do you have the slightest idea of the worry you have caused everyone? The Order and Voldemort have given you up for dead and have been searching for you night and day for the last fortnight!"

Looking lost and afraid, the cat watched him. Snape realised he was shaking slightly. All the anguish that had been building since Potter's disappearance transformed slowly but surely into rage. He was hard pressed to resist the urge to throw the first thing that came to hand.

"That's enough, you blasted coward, I'm taking you to Dumbledore, and certainly not with you as a cat. This farce has gone on long enough."

The cat's eyes widened, but it didn't move.

"Very well. If I have to carry you by the scruff of the neck, I will." And he moved with deliberate steps towards the cat.

Shadow panicked. The little voice murmuring that the man meant him harm returned with a vengence. Now, here he was, advancing menacingly.

Following his instincts, the cat leapt to the floor and fled to hide under the wardrobe.

Snape gritted his teeth. Shadow had never been afraid of him before... no, not Shadow, Potter, lousy Potter who had been slipping him the mickey.

"Potter! Stop this childishness at once! You are absolutely pathetic!" he hissed.

He couldn't quite believe that the Gryffindor had fled to hide under a wardrobe. Where now was the legendary courage of lions?

"You are nothing but a thoroughly spoiled brat, incapable of thinking of anyone but yourself. Have you thought for a single moment of the consequences of your behaviour, you little wretch?"

Shadow heard the words, and these words resonated in his memory. As did the tone of voice.

The Man In Black was very, very angry. And there was no doubt about the fact that he hated him.The cat didn't know what he had done, but had no intention of leaving his place of safety to find out. He pressed himself as far away as possible against the wall.

"Very well, Potter. If that's the game you want to play..."

Snape halfheartedly got down on all fours to look for the cat, swearing fervently that he'd make him pay for that.

What he saw surprised him.The cat was hidden as far away as possible from him, breathing rapidly, slightly trembling and watching him with wide, terrified eyes.

Nothing that he saw resembled the cowardice of a spoiled 16 year old boy. This was the terror of a beaten cat who did not understand what was expected of it.

Snape sat back on his heels to think. Potter would rather have spent his holidays with Voldemort than seek refuge with him. The way the cat had acted, seeking him out, not fearing his voice... the way the cat watched him and reacted... none of this matched the boy he knew.

Was it possible that Potter didn't know he was Potter? How could he transform into a human, then back to a cat, if he didn't know he had this ability? If he didn't know who he was?

There was only one way to find out.

He got up and cut a piece of fish, which he put in the cat's bowl.

"Shadow! Dinner time!" he called, forcing himself to use the tone he normally used with the cat.

He knelt down again and watched the animal. The cat seemed confused, looking from the bowl to the Potions Master.

"Come, Shadow, come here!"

The cat didn't know what to think anymore. First the man shouted at him and acted like an enemy, and now, for reasons he didn't know, he was offering him food and speaking softly again.

The cat hesitated for a long time, watching and listening to the man. His voice and face suggested a trap, but... this was the man.The one who protected him. He didn't want this to end, he still wanted to believe in him.

Slowly, without taking his eyes off the man, he left his hiding place and moved towards him.

Snape watched, trying to hide the turmoil he was in. Potter? Shadow? Was the boy once again making fun of him or did he really believe he was a cat?

He watched the animal cautiously approach to sit in front of his bowl without touching it, casting him a look that was both wounded and full of hope

Strangely, Snape felt his heart ache. A few minutes ago, he himself had felt betrayed, but now he was certain the cat felt the same way. Even Potter would not have been stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick. He couldn't keep from stroking the animal's head. For the last time perhaps? All this was going to become very embarassing when Potter got his memory back, but for the present, he had in front of him an anxious and unhappy cat. He watched as the cat, reassured, dug into the fish.

No, all the evidence suggested that Potter had no clue of the situation he had got himself into.

Snape headed for hearth, then threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire.

"Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts!"

He put his head in the flames and met the questioning gaze of the headmaster.

"Albus. Call the Order to Grimmauld Place immediately! It's about Potter. I'll join you there in ten minutes. Gather all who can join us."

Dumbledore raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Severus?"

Snape forced a smile.

"Ten minutes, Albus. Let everyone know."

And he pulled back into the dungeon, rather satisfied and more than a little relieved.

After two weeks of reproachful, furtive looks and sly remarks, he was going to deliver their precious Potter on a silver platter. Potter wasn't dead after all. He had been here since the beginning, right under his nose... but what could have happened to the boy?

Snape was convinced he couldn't have become an Animagus at Hogwarts, but in a month, on his own, living with Muggles? Absolutely impossible. He thought back to the injuries of the cat when it'd first arrived. Had they happened before or after his transformation into a cat?

He sighed. Only Potter could answer that... still he had to remember who he was.

"Shadow," he murmured to the cat, which had emptied its bowl. "Come here," he said, tapping the arm of the chair.

Happier now, the cat jumped up close to the man, who picked him up and held him up in front of his face.

"Listen to me well, Shadow. I don't know what you've done, how you managed to get yourself in such a situation, here of all places, in my house. But you're going to have to work on getting your memory back. You aren't a cat at all, which incidentally explains a lot. You're a boy, a completely human one, at least that's what everyone claims; a complete disaster, yes, a pain in the neck, absolutely, with an enormous propensity to jump head first into trouble and not respect the rules. But, an adolescent who responds to the name Harry Potter, when he feels like it. An adolescent with huge responsibilities, an important part to play in this war and who, in any case, cannot allow himself remain curled up next to the fire. Have I made myself clear?"

He felt the cat's heart beat faster during his little speech, and noticed a strange glimmer in the depth of his eyes. Defiance? Fear? Understanding? Something small, but which reminded him more of the boy he'd known.

Shadow had listened carefully to all that he'd said. The words then formed sentences that made sense somewhere in the depths of his consciousness. Something seemed to be knocking at the door of his memory, a small hesitant sound that wanted to be understood, and that made him afraid. He didn't want to open up, not yet! He wanted to stay here, in the dungeon, with the Man In Black.

He looked at the man, searching his face. He found there something akin to pity or a hint of affection, but now the eyes were hard. The man had called him Shadow, then Potter. No more Shadow.... he saw it clearly in the man's eyes.

Something broke in the cat's heart.

Very well. It couldn't have lasted forever anyway, could it? That dark cloud was still out there somewhere, and he couldn't escape it.

He let his muscles relax. What was to come would come.

Snape watched the cat, as its gaze suddenly became blank..

"Potter... you're going to have to resume your normal form. I'm taking you to Grimmauld Place where everyone is waiting for you. One way or another, you know you cannot avoid this."

The cat gave him a resigned look, which only scarcely resembled Potter. Something was deeply wrong with this cat.

Snape stood up, the animal in his arms.

"Well. I suppose I'll have to take you like this? No need for a cat carrier, no? Hold on, then."

With a heavy heart, he threw a handful of powder into the fireplace. He no longer had any desire to be furious with Potter. And he did not want to say farewell to Shadow.

At Grimmauld Place he found the members of the Order of the Phoenix waiting for him impatiently and with outright curiosity. .

"Severus, I managed to contact the majority of the members. What have you learnt?" asked Dumbledore quickly, his eyes shining.

"I've done better than to bring you information. I've brought you your famous deserter, slightly changed, I'll grant you."

He put the cat on the table amidst loud exclamations.

"I present to you Harry Tomcat Potter!"

Several cries rang out around the table, then silence. Everyone was watching the cat, not knowing how to react.

"Is this a joke, Snape?" barked Moody

"Not in the slightest," he responded in a silky voice. "For the last fortnight, I've been sheltering this flea-ridden animal. This, Albus, is the reason why I asked you if Potter could possibly be an Animagus."

Dumbledore nodded in comprehension.

"Having been assured this was not the case, I investigated no further. The cat had no real distinguishing features, apart from a rather suspect attitude regarding personal hygiene.... up until the moment I found a sleeping adolescent in place of the cat, and said adolescent then transformed into a cat, right before my eyes. I'll leave it to you to guess the identity of the boy in question," he finished with a sardonic little laugh before releasing the cat.

For a second, everyone seemed paralyzed, until they digested the information. Then everything happened very quickly: Tonks started to laugh hysterically, Mrs Weasley began to cry, Moody shouted at the cat, and Mr Weasley started to ask questions no one could make heads or tails of, while Dumbledore tried to calm everyone down.

Satisfied with the reaction, Snape laughed softly as he leant against a wall and watched.

Until the frightened cat sought refuge behind his legs. Snape stopped laughing at once ; it was one thing to have kept the cat without knowing it was none other than the Precious Potter, it was quite another to see him turn to Snape for protection, in front of the entire Order.

Clearly, the movement escaped no one's notice.

"So, Severus, it appears that Potter has adopted you," Kingsley said, smiling.

"The cat only recognises the hand that feeds it," Snape grumbled..

There were several outbursts of laughter. Around the table the relief was palpable : Molly and Arthur supported each other, as though they had just escaped a sinking ship, and Dumbledore's face relaxed for the first time in two weeks.

Tonks got down on all fours to try to get the cat.

"Harry, Harry, come here!" She made kissing noises.

"Don't bother, Miss Tonks. Here's a second piece of critical information for you: your dear Mr Potter has not the slightest memory of being the boy who lived. As far as he is concerned, he is the 'cat', he likes fish and sleeps on a sweater near the fireplace. In other words, what you have is a stubborn cat with amnesia."

His words elicited a gasp from all those gathered.

"By the way, he loves sardines," ended Snape in a smug and sure tone of voice.

A shocked silence followed his declaration.

"Are you sure, Severus?" asked Arthur Weasley in a trembling voice.

"Practically certain. The cat has, in any case, never behaved like Potter in my presence. The mere fact that he came and sought refuge with me bears this out. In addition, he doesn't seem to understand half of what I say. Though, given this is Potter we're talking about, such facts have little value."

All eyes were on the cat, still hidden behind the Potions Master's legs.

"Of course, there's still the possibility that Potter is nothing but an arrogant, pretentious and completely ungrateful brat who feels no appreciation for those who care about what happens to him.. I haven't ruled out this option."

"Don't be stupid, Snape, anyone can see that this cat is terrified. Poor Harry must have no idea what's happening to him," exclaimed Tonks indignantly.

"And I must admit I would find it difficult to reprimand him for it," said Dumbledore. "I myself am having difficulty understanding what could possibly have happened. Severus, you say the cat arrived at your house the day Harry disappeared?"

Snape nodded

"I found him a short distance from my door the morning after the wards were destroyed. He was injured and obviously lost, but allowed me to catch him without trying to escape or fight. I don't know if he'd already habituated himself to being a cat by then."

"Injuries?"

Snape nodded again.

"Cuts, from what I could see. Rather difficult to see on a black cat, but there were many of them, and were fairly deep. I thought he had been beaten or caught in a trap. Whatever the cause, they are for the most part healed now. What I don't know is whether he received them in human or cat form."

Mrs Weasley let out a cry of horror.

"The Dursleys?"

Dumbledore shook his head uncertainly

"Such a thing never happened before... at least that I know."

"The cat is easily frightened, Albus," said Snape after a moment's thought, "He is wary of sudden movements and raised voices. I would prefer to think that this behaviour is that of a frightened cat with amnesia, but the reflexes seem well entrenched... I don't really know what to make of that."

"Well, the only thing to do is ask him, then!" bellowed Moody. "For Merlin's sake, we've found the boy. We'll have Harry return to his normal form and ask him the question to his face!"

"Don't count on him to cooperate, though," said Snape. "Mr Potter is very much at home in his new skin.You will have to force him."

He looked at Dumbledore in question, who nodded. Putting a few steps between himself and the cat, Snape raised his wand.

" Animagus revelio!"

A blue streak of light hit the cat, who transformed quickly into a black-haired teen-ager, right in front of the dumbfounded Order members. The boy had lost his glasses, and his torn and bloodied clothing hung pitifully on his body.

"Harry!" exclaimed Tonks, rushing towards him.

The boy jumped backward, his hands raised to protect himself. As one, Moody, Tonks and the Weasleys moved forward to comfort him. Without his glasses, Harry could only make out a confused mass of dark figures coming toward him. He tried to retreat but fell with his back against the wall. He looked around desperately and...

An instant later, a black cat dashed under an armchair, hidden from view.

"Potter in all his glory," concluded Snape, but his heart wasn't in it. The boy's eyes had looked too much like Shadow's, even more than they did Lily's: the look of a trapped animal, a look he'd have preferred to never see on the face of the famous, arrogant little Potter.

The boy who had lived... to become a cat. Snape shut his eyes. What could've possibly happened to Potter? This new ability, this distrust? To what extent was he truly amnesic?

Without a word, the others sat down again wearily.

"I don't understand...Harry has never, ever, had any reason to be afraid of us!" sniffled Molly Weasley.

"Molly, it would appear that Harry has undergone a very traumatic experience," said Dumbledore comfortingly. "What's more, he wasn't able to recognise you at that distance without his glasses."

"Where are the bloody glasses, by the way?" growled Moody

"I don't know," replied the headmaster, "I found no sign of them at the Dursleys'. Severus?"

Snape shook his head.

"No. But the cat seemed to be able to see all right. Perhaps not as well as he should, but adequately enough for a human."

"Should we try to repeat the experiment?" asked Arthur Weasley, looking at the armchair uncertainly.

There was silence as everyone contemplated the new situation: Harry Potter had been found, but was there cause to celebrate?

"Kingsley, Alastor, Arthur, Tonks... could I ask you to leave the room for a moment? I would like Harry to feel as unthreatened as possible when we force him to resume human form again," Dumbledore instructed.

"In that case, I think it prudent for me to leave as well," said Snape, stepping towards the door.

"Not to contradict you, my boy, but you seem to be the only one Harry trusts at the moment. It would be better if you stayed."

Snape scowled.

"If Remus could hear that..." scoffed Tonks

"If Remus were here to hear it, Miss Tonks, half our problems would be solved," replied Dumbledore gently.

The young woman bit her lip. Remus had a lot of experience with Animagi and with Harry...Yes, she missed the werewolf more than ever. Off on a mission amongst his own kind, it would take too long to reach him.

She followed Kingsley out, taking care not to make any abrupt movements. Under his armchair, the cat tried to make himself inconsequential, aware of the commotion around it.

As soon as they'd arrived, he had known he didn't like this place. It was gloomy and filled with memories of a presence which made him sad, though he didn't know why. And all these people...Too many people, What did they want with him ? The Man In Black was tense too, he could feel it. And then, he'd cast a spell at him, which had made him grow...All of a sudden, so many pictures and feelings had crowded his head and made him feel sick. He had a flash of a man lifting a hand to hit him, a familiar face, and bars... When the hazy figures suddenly came towards him again, he'd panicked, without knowing how, he'd resumed his cat form and hidden himself.

For now.

He heard the door close again and knew that several people had left the room. Not enough, though; he had to be careful, all this felt like an out and out trap...

"Harry... Harry, my boy?"

A woman's voice that he recognized... It was synonymous with comfort, tenderness and food... and it seemed sad, worried, perhaps.

He would've liked to leave his hiding place and reassure her, but he couldn't manage to move. If he wanted to talk to her, he would have to use his voice... a different voice....in a different way. He didn't want to go through what he had felt when he'd transformed a few minutes before. He didn't want to remember.

But he had to try to do something...

He took a few, hesitant steps, pulling half of his body out from under the armchair. .

"Oh Harry, yes, that's very good! Come a little bit closer!"

He tried to say that he couldn't, but the sound that came out of his mouth, a sort of strangled meow, surprised even himself.

On the other side of the room, the Man In Black watched impassively, a hint of surprise in his eyes. The cat would've liked to run and hide behind his legs, but he couldn't. He didn't know what would happen if he took one more step... the woman, Mrs Weasley, he suddenly remembered, reached out her hand and he couldn't decide if he should be afraid or not.

A voice said that she was a safe refuge, but she seemed huge and unfamiliar. The Man In Black, on the other hand, seemed hostile and distant. As for the man with long grey hair who was at his side, he couldn't decide if he was imposing or reassuring.

The only thing he was sure of was that he had a splitting headache.

He heard someone murmur a spell and he felt himself pulled forward. When he opened his eyes, he was in the middle of the room.

"Animagus revelio!"

Once again, he felt his body transform against its will. In the next instant, he was standing on two legs and his vision was blurred.

"Harry! Don't be afraid, no one here wishes you harm!"

He wanted to believe Mrs Weasley's familar voice, but the images spilled over in his memory, making him want to scream. Vernon hitting him. Sirius's death, the Ministry. Bellatrix. Voldemort.

The black cloud engulfed him again. He seized his head with his hands and collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Later, when he thought back on that scene, he had the benefit of hindsight to curse his Potions master reflexes.

Potter had only just returned to his human form when he started to wobble, as though he had forgotten how to stand on two legs. His pupils dilated, his jaw clenched, he wore such a crazed look of pain that it made the hairs on the back of Snape’s neck stand up. Then Potter clutched his head in his hands and collapsed to the ground.

In one step , Severus was at his side, just in time to keep his head from hitting the ground too hard. Meeting Dumbledore’s look, he caught the glint of satisfaction in the headmaster's eyes, and it made him grind his teeth: why was it that Potter thrust him routinely into the role of saviour of the widowed and orphaned?

For now, he needed to assess the damage. He laid the boy on the ground and pressed two fingers to his neck: his heart was beating and his chest rose and fell slightly. Snape sighed with relief; if he had killed the boy, no one would ever have forgiven him. Perhaps not even himself, actually...

Dumbledore let go of Molly Weasley, who had also tried to fly to the boy’s aid, and moved towards the Potions Master.

“How is he ?”

“Breathing.”

Snape lifted Harry up gently. He didn’t seem to weigh much more than the cat… Something had clearly gone wrong with the transformation.

He worriedly placed the unconscious boy on the settee. Perhaps it would be best to start by giving him a Calming Draught? Severus lifted a hand to open his bag and started: his palm was covered with blood! He looked back down at the teenager: contrary to what he'd thought, not all the blood on his t-shirt was old. All over his body, he could see fresh spots of blood slowly saturating the fabric.

Snape swore under his breath and, with a wave of his wand, vanished the boy’s clothes. He heard Molly cry out from behind him; he himself barely managed not to recoil: the boy’s chest was covered by lacerations which seemed to have been made only a moment before. He could almost see them opening up right before his eyes, while he desperately looked for their cause.

The picture of Shadow covered in blood immediately superimposed itself on that of the boy in his mind. Yes the marks matched… But they had been healed, Merlin knew, taken care of and closed a long time ago. What was happening to this child?

He quickly muttered a healing charm and was relieved to see the blood stop flowing. Drawing a breath, he turned to Dumbledore.

“Albus, I'm not sure I understand what's happening. Perhaps it would be best to call Madam Pomfrey or a healer…”

But the headmaster shook his white-haired head.

“That would not be advisable until we know more. The longer Harry’s condition remains secret, the greater our opportunity to deal with it. You are managing admirably, Severus,” he concluded.

Snape grunted nervously. The boy’s wounds had stopped bleeding, but should they be treated like normal wounds? Such treatment would only make things worse if it were a magical wound.

“No. That would not be wise,” he decided finally. “I must know more before trying anything else.”

We can’t leave him like that!” exclaimed Mrs Weasley.

“Any treatment would prove suicidal as long as we don't know the cause of these wounds. For now, I will give him a sleeping potion to keep him from waking up and worsening them. The only thing we can do while we wait is to clean the wounds with fresh water. Nothing more.”

Dumbledore sighted, but acquiesed.

“Molly, if you could go and alert the others?”

White as a sheet, Mrs Weasley left without a word.

Alone with the Potions Master, the headmaster moved closer to Harry, who'd still not moved.

“What do you think, Severus?”

“The injuries look very much like those I previously healed on the cat. They didn’t seem to be of magical origin and they healed rapidly with care… until they reopened tonight, of course.”

“I agree that they don’t appear to have been inflicted by curses. And the phenomenon we have observed could perhaps be explained by Harry’s new powers…” mused the headmaster.

“We must make Potter talk, but I doubt that will be possible with him in this state. He seems as disturbed mentally as he is physically. I doubt he would be much use to us. Albus, you’ve seen his family, how far did you get in your interrogation of them?”

“I did not subject them to Legilimency if that is what you are asking,” replied the headmaster calmly. “Harry’s uncle was clearly speaking the truth when he stated that he didn’t know what had happened to him, and his aunt and cousin did not see him that day. Nevertheless, given recent events, I agree that further clarification is necessary.”

“What do you know about them, Albus? What could have provoked them to get rid of Potter ?”

“Gross misunderstanding. They are Muggles, Severus. You're in a position to understand. You yourself knew Petunia well, after all.”

“‘Well’ is an overstatement,” replied the Potions Master with a frown. “I often saw her with Lily when we were children, around the neighbourhood where we grew up. But Petunia hated that she was different from her sister, and she hated anything that reminded her of the magical world. When Lily and I became friends, she resented me terribly. She thought I was taking her away… until her departure for Hogwarts, after which she no longer wanted to have anything to do with her sister outside of their home. When I saw Lily during the holidays, I only saw Petunia from afar. She always seemed bitter and vindictive, but it was clear that she loved her sister. I don’t know what caused her to push Lily away. Lily was very hurt by her rejection.”

“Perhaps this would be a good thing for you to discover. That and the information we need to understand what is happening to Harry.”

Severus hesitated. Going to visit the Muggles, seeing Petunia again, Lily’s sister, after all these years? Meeting the family of Precious Potter? He would have gladly taken a pass. On the other hand, he had to understand at all costs the origin of the injuries and Potter's behaviour if he wanted to treat them, and he would be most able to do this if he went himself.

Dumbledore saw the Potions Master’s hesitation and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“To be frank, Severus, I would prefer not to leave Harry alone. We don’t know if Voldemort has noticed his return to human form, and even though Grimmauld Place is well hidden, the wards might not prove sufficient in the case of an attack.”

Snape nodded reluctantly.

“Very well. I’ll pay them a visit tomorrow. Potter might need tending tonight.”

The door opened and the Order members filed in. It appeared that Molly Weasley had faithfully recounted the dramatic scene that had just taken place in the sitting room, since all wore sombre faces as they approached the boy.

“What can we do?” asked Kingsley.

“Sit down, so we can examine the options,” suggested Dumbledore.

While everyone took their places around the table, Snape took out a green potion from his bag, that he carefully made the boy swallow. It would keep the boy asleep for a good twelve hours. Severus couldn't keep himself from examining him again.

He had seen similar marks before, but they'd had nothing to do with magic… And how to imagine Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, being thrashed the Muggle way? And how had he managed to become so thin… His new power wasn't helping him any.

He quickly applied a warming charm to the boy. It was best not to cover the wounds. What could he have missed when healing the cat? He was limping, he recalled… The left front paw.

He gently lifted the sleeping teenager’s arm and palpated it for a contusion. Near the shoulder, the bone was at an odd angle…

‘Broken and badly healed,’ he mused. The cat had borne the pain with the help of potions and Potter had probably not realised the extent of his injuries while he was a cat. This explained the cat’s lack of enthusiasm for acrobatics.

Snape suddenly felt disheartened. He had missed that as well. What else had slipped by him? Potter had been under his protection for fifteen days without him knowing it, the cat had a broken paw, and now the boy was unconscious, covered in injuries he didn’t know the cause of and which he could not treat.

He was a spy, a Potions professor and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He was failing in all his missions. The Order of Merlin had never seemed so far away. Off somewhere wandering with his self-esteem…

A glint of silver suddenly caught his eye. Potter’s bracelet. Why did it seem familiar to him? Shadow! Snape quickly straightened and turned towards the waiting group.

‘Has Potter always had this bracelet?”

All eyes looked to the boy’s wrist.

“No, I’ve never seen it before, Harry doesn’t wear jewellery,” replied Mrs Weasley. Arthur nodded in agreement.

“I don’t believe I have seen it before either,” added Dumbledore. “A birthday present perhaps?”

“The cat was wearing it as a collar,” said Snape, in response to the headmaster’s questioning look. “And he struggled every time I tried to examine it. Wherever it comes from, there's a strong likelihood that it's tied to this affair. Is there a way to obtain a complete list of the presents Potter received during his stay with the Muggles?”

“It wouldn't be a long one,” said Tonks. “Hermione, Ron, Fred and George, you, Molly, I’ve still got Remus’ present with me… I was supposed to give it directly to him on his birthday.”

Mrs Weasley nodded.

“Yes, I think that’s everyone. I know that the twins sent him some products from their shop, Merlin help us… Ron was vague, but he probably sent a similar type of present. I don’t know what Hermione chose… As for me, I sent him food as I do every year, the poor boy starves there every summer.”

Snape frowned. The stupid boy refused to eat Muggle food? That would explain his thinness. That was still preferable to a problem with transformation, he mused, slightly reassured.

“Should I go and get the children to give more detail?” asked Mrs Weasley.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Their letters were still on Harry’s bed at the Dursleys. I put them in his trunk after verifying myself the recipients. I did not read them, out of discretion, but it's not too late for that.”

Dumbledore got up and opened the wooden trunk in the corner of the room. He pulled out an assortment of parchments which he put on the table. He handed Ron’s to Mrs Weasley, the twins’ to her husband and took Hermione’s for himself to read.

Kingsley, Tonks and Severus tried to read their faces while they quickly scanned the parchments. Mr and Mrs Weasley shook their heads, but Dumbledore’s face lit up with joy.

All eyes turned impatiently to him.

“It seems that Miss Granger has just proven, once again, how vital she is. The bracelet you noticed, Severus, is indeed the birthday present from her.”

“And by your manner, I deduce that we can expect the worst,” said Snape ironically, aware of the twinkling glance that the headmaster was sending his way.

“Much to the contrary. Miss Granger’s idea is excellent and particularly welcome. I think it is safe to say that she saved young Harry’s life.”

Curiosity was now etched on every face, including Snape’s, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“This bracelet is indeed charmed. It is a Portable Aid, a gem which allows an injured wizard to find assistance. This explains how Harry was able to find his way to your door, Severus.”

His explanation was met with a chorus of cries: admiration for the young girl, but also astonishment.

Snape leant back in his chair, slightly paler.

“There is however one flaw to this interesting theory,” he said after a moment’s reflection. “Even if my Manor is also in Surrey, it is many miles from Mr Potter’s summer residence. I can scarcely imagine him completing such a journey, especially injured, whether in cat or human form. The Portable Aid does carry a body gently, in such a way as to shield the bearer, but this is not just a matter of a Portkey.”

“Whatever happened that day,” replied Dumbledore, “I think that powerful magic was involved. We don’t yet know the particulars, but if Harry was able to acquire Animagus abilities in a short period of time, probably unknowingly, then the magic of that transformation could've unleashed the power of the bracelet. And brought him to you, Professor,” concluded the headmaster in a soft voice.

Snape grimaced.

“Isn’t St Mungo's closer?” hazarded Kingsley.

“It is,” replied Dumbledore calmly. “The hospital is, in fact, closer to Privet Drive than Snape Manor. Not to mention the presence of several Healers near London who could have helped Harry. However, the bracelet chose to take him to Severus. The bracelet or whatever was guiding it.”

The table was silent as everyone tried to digest and assimilate the information.

“Oh, come on,” grumbled Moody. “Harry hates Snape, Snape almost sicks up every time he says Potter's name, why the devil would the boy have thrown himself so precisely underfoot?”

A baffled silence followed his question, interrupted by a few coughs. Severus remained impassive, and said nothing to contradict him. Moody had just spared him from a long explanation filled with euphemisms.

“Appearances sometimes hide unsuspected realities,” replied Dumbledore with a half-smile.

Snape frowned. That he agreed to care for the boy did not mean that he would concern himself with his fate. The converation was taking a rather disagreeable turn.

“Be assured that I did nothing to provoke this situation in any possible way,” retorted the Potions Master.

“No one doubts that…” murmured Tonks.

“Well, well,” said Molly hastily. “This doesn’t explain the most important thing. How was Harry able to take the form of a cat? Could he actually have become an Animagus?”

“All doubt of that was dispelled, from the moment when Harry reacted positively to the Animagus Revelio,” replied Dumbledore. “Which indeed leaves the big question: how?

“And when. And where. And why,” added Tonks.

“Indeed, Miss Tonks,” agreed Dumbledore politely. “Those as well, of course. Now, here is what we know on the subject: Harry made no attempt to become an Animagus, his closest friends have assured us of this and I trust their word.”

Snape nodded.

“Furthermore, it was impossible for him to practice magic while with his family, as he would have violated the Ministry Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. In whatever manner Harry gained this skill, it was very quickly. Given his attitude, I'm inclined to think that this also occurred without his knowledge.”

“I don’t understand,” Kingsley interrupted. “Becoming an Animagus is a learnt skill, like any other, it is never innate and cannot be passed on… by magic !”

“Indeed,” admitted Dumbledore. “It is a heretofore unobserved phenomenon. Understand, until we have a definite explanation, all this is but a theory. It remains that Harry had a very short time to become an Animagus, since he was seen in his Animagus form for the first time the day after his birthday, and he doesn’t seem to have possessed this talent before this summer. I am not ignorant of the fact that all this defies the laws of magic, but this is Harry Potter we are talking about, the boy who lived…the only person in the world to have survived Avada Kedavra. It does not seem prudent, in these circumstances, to reject any theory, no matter how absurd.

Silence once again.

Snape could not keep himself from silently cursing the boy. What Dumbledore had just said was perfectly correct. One could expect anything when it came to Potter… even completely irrational explanations. What could have pushed the boy to land on his front steps? What more could he've come up with to make himself interesting? Did he have to be so like his father in everything? He mulled this over.

“Another point, Albus. Potter has a substantial family history when it comes to transformation into wild animals. His father and his godfather, not to mention the rat… whatever there was, Potter was aware of this and could've very well himself built a legend out of this legacy.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I am indeed aware of this, Severus. One way or another, the fact that James and Sirius, his primary father figures, had both been Animagi cannot be a coincidence. I don’t know, though, how this links with his own transformation… And whether we should consider this as a gift or an attempt to harm Harry.”

“So many questions, so few answers… but at least we have got Harry back,” concluded Molly Weasley.

“Very true, Molly, it is a great relief. But we must still remember that no trace of Lily’s sacrifice now protects Harry. What's more, we don’t know how his mental and physical health have been affected, nor what really happened to him. We need to know the answers to these questions as soon as possible. A great many things rest on Harry’s shoulders.”

The headmaster’s piercing gaze sought the Potions Master. Snape met his eyes without flinching. He could almost hear the familiar, “Can I count on you?”

Karma, he mused.

Sybill Trelawney would not have contradicted him.

It was a beautiful morning, far too beautiful to waste in as depressing a place as Little Whinging.

Severus Snape walked purposefully through the deserted neighbourhood, casting a disheartened glance at the identical little houses, closely lined up one after the other. It was even worse than the Muggle town where he and Lily had grown up.... How did one not die of boredom in such a place?

He thought about the boy he had left in Grimmauld Place. With his unruly hair, his scar standing out in the middle of his forehead and his rebellious behaviour, he would have had to seem strangely out of place in this quiet and ordered town.He had hoped to draw the information out of the boy when he awoke, and so save himself a foray to Precious Potter’s Muggle family, but his hopes had quickly been dashed.

The potion he had administered to him had worked beautifully, plunging Potter into a profound state of sleep, which was by far the way Snape preferred the boy. As all good things must come to an end, the teenager had finally woken up twelve hours later, or rather, he'd emerged from that blessed state of deep sleep.

Because it would've been an exaggeration to say that Potter had regained consciousness. He had scarcely opened his eyes, under the watchful gaze of Dumbledore and the Potions master, when he'd started to groan and press his hands to his forehead again. For once, Severus could not suspect him of faking the pain to attract attention; the boy’s groans were far too pathetic to leave any doubt. Albus, being himself, could not stop from reaching a hand towards the boy to comfort him. Severus could have told him ahead of time what would happen, but he didn't have the chance: the boy proved Snape correct as he literally threw himself backwards to avoid the contact and ended with his back against the wall, fingers knotted in his hair, rocking back and forth while muttering nonsensical words.

Snape would gladly have pointed out to the headmaster that trying to cajole a traumatized and shell-shocked boy was a bit unwise, but the pain and guilt on Dumbledore’s face dissuaded him. Yes, Dumbledore loved the boy. But he had no idea of how to handle an injured animal. Severus approached the boy without making any sudden movements. He had to at least try...

“Potter.”

The boy had buried his head between his knees, rocking back and forth even faster.

“Potter, listen to me. Concentrate on my voice. You’re at Grimmauld Place, you’re safe. Albus Dumbledore is with me.”

But the boy was too far gone. On hearing his name, he started to tremble.

“I’m sorry... sorry....sorry... I didn’t want.... I’m sorry...”

After an especially ridiculous Potter-cat, a pleading Potter brimming over with guilt. What was the world coming to, and where was that Gryffindor dignity now?

Snape mused that he had just gained sufficient material for cutting remarks for years to come, but the thought gave him no pleasure.  Why was the boy ’sorry’ ? Was he overcome with guilt, or did he believe he was pleading with his executioner ? For a brief instant, Snape would've pitied him. But neither was that appropriate. He sighed. Caught between two wrongs, it was best to choose the lesser of them.

“Could you leave us alone for a moment, Albus?”

Dumbledore appeared surprised, but asked no questions and left, leaving the Potions master and the boy in private. As soon as he heard the door close softly, Snape knelt down a few feet from the boy.

“Shadow, calm yourself. Everything will be all right, there’s nothing to fear,” he said in the voice he used to speak to the cat.

The boy stiffened and stopped muttering his apologies.

“That’s right, cat. Everything is fine. I’m here.”

Snape thought to himself that if anyone ever found out about this scenario, he would be forced to verify whether inflicting an Avada Kedavra on himself were a possibility. But he was rewarded as he saw the boy lift his head, his pupils dilated.

“Shadow,” the Potions master said softly, “become Shadow again.... for now.”

He saw a flicker of relief cross the boy’s face before he transformed into the black cat once again.

Snape could not hold in a soft sigh. The solution was not ideal, but Potter’s emotions were less intense in cat form, in which he also seemed better able put up with his injuries. On seeing the cat’s blank gaze, he thought for a moment he’d made a terrible mistake. Had he only made him even more confused?

Then the cat’s eyes settled on him. Not entirely Shadow, not entirely Potter, but a mix of the two, which was the best that he could've hoped for.

“Everything’s fine. I know that you don't understand everything and, believe me, you’re not the only one. But we’re going to make sure we change that as quickly as possible. We’re going to need your help, though... You're going to have to try to remember what happened to you, from the beginning. For now, you need to rest and try to stay calm. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order will keep watch over you here, at Grimmauld Place.”

He wasn't sure that the cat had understood everything, but the sound of his voice seemed to have calmed him. If Potter still retained a small sense of himself, perhaps he could begin to calm down and make himself useful. The cat was trembling, but did not try to flee. In fact, it was watching Snape with a bit of hope, and something akin to trust...

Proof, thought Snape, that Potter was not in complete control of his faculties. He took a quick look at the cat’s injuries. Yes, he recognized that they were indeed the same ones he had already healed... Were they going to reopen when Potter had to transform back? Something to worry about. All of this he truly was not happy about.

If he discovered who had hurt his cat...

He got hold of himself quickly. Very well.  Very well, he was tired and decidedly under stress. Potter was going to stay safely in the room in cat form, the devil take him, and Snape was going to find a way to solve this problem and then that could be the end of it! With Merlin’s help, the boy would have no memory of his stay at the manor, even if it meant Obliviating him at the first opportunity.

Potter, Shadow, goddamit, with his luck, the animal undoubtedly had fleas.

Snape left the room quickly and rejoined Dumbledore in the kitchen.

“Very well. Potter has returned to his cat form. It was preferable, both for his mental and his physical health. We'll see about turning him back when we know more about what’s going on and how we can care for him. For now, he’s in his bedroom and doesn’t seem too agitated. Try not to disturb him. If anything happens, I’ll be in Surrey, Legilimising the Muggles who serve as family for this insufferable source of problems you call Potter.”

“You seem nervous, Severus. Is everything all right?”

Snape groaned.

“Clearly. I haven’t slept more than an hour in two days. I am responsible for looking after a boy who is supposed to save the world, but who isn’t even capable of remembering his own name, let alone telling us how he came to be injured, the Dark Lord is likely to call me at any moment and his potions aren’t ready, and to top it all off, I’m preparing to spend the morning with the most disagreeable Muggle family I have ever known.”

“And you don't know the half of it,” replied Dumbledore, unable to hide a smile. “Severus, I will never know how to tell you how grateful I am for everything you do... for Harry and for us all,” he said emphatically.

Snape relaxed slightly.

“You have no need, Albus. I am at the top of the list of those interested in Potter's survival and success. What worries me most at the moment is the way the boy pressed his hands to his forehead. I suspect the Dark Lord has become aware of his return to consciousness, however weak and troubled, and is trying to connect their minds...”

“In which case, you did well to make him change back into his Animagus form. Your decision was the most reasonable, all things considered, even if it hurts me to see Harry like that.”

Snape nodded. He understood the headmaster’s concern, his worry about disturbing Harry’s peception of his identity even more.... but for his part, he had to admit that he was much more comfortable with the feline version of the boy. A bit too much, perhaps.

He checked that his wand was well secured in his belt and put on his cloak.

“Would you like a Disillusionment Charm, Severus? Muggles, especially in Little Whinging, are hardly used to seeing this sort of attire...”

“Unnecessary. No one will die from it, and my appearance could provoke some interesting reactions if other wizards have been hanging around the area recently. Death Eaters always remain invisible...”

“You intend to search the area ?” Dumbledore asked, surprised.

Snape smiled bitterly.

“I don’t want to leave anything to chance. Time is too precious... and when I am next called to Malfoy Manor, I don’t know how long before I’ll be able to return. We need answers quickly.”

Dumbledore raised a hand to squeeze the Potions master’s shoulder, but restrained the movement when he saw him stiffen.

Dumbledore sighed. If he had for an instant doubted the value of Snape’s decision to push Harry to resume his animal form, all doubt would have disappeared now.

Each in his own way,  the professor and the student, had a sense of honour and a certitude that they could count only on themselves, which brought them closer to each other than either could have imagined. It was this bond that had compelled Snape to make the right decision regarding Harry, and Dumbledore would've been happy for this reason had he not been so worried about them both.

Seeing his dismay, Snape graced him with a look meant to be reassuring, matched with the shadow of a smile.

“And to answer your question, yes, you can count on me, Albus.”

“I've never doubted it, my boy,” replied the headmaster softly.

“If Potter ever.... if there were an emergency of any sort, let me know.”

Dumbledore nodded and watched as the Potions master headed for the fireplace.

He had a strange premonition that any problems to occur would not be coming from Grimmauld Place that morning.

“Snape Manor!”

When Snape appeared in his laboratory, something seemed wrong to him. It felt as if years had passed by since he had left the last time, with Shadow in his arms.

Shadow. That was what was different. He looked at the cat’s jumper on his armchair... He sighed, incapbable of knowing whether he was annoyed, frustrated or worried. Whichever it was, it was Potter’s fault once again. He took a last look at the jumper. The cat had only been there for two weeks, after all; it wouldn't take much to get used to his absence.

The cat...Potter! He cursed silently. Lack of sleep was really not doing him any good. He grabbed a vial and quickly swallowed the contents; he was going to need all his energy and clarity to visit  the Dursleys.

The idea made him feel increasingly uneasy; this whole story didn't add up... But he had no time to waste in speculation. Putting a few potions in the inside pocket of his robe, he Disapparated with a great 'crack'.

As he'd expected, his presence in the streets of the housing estate prompted no reaction from its inhabitants, apart from a few disapproving looks. The chances were slim, but he especially needed to mull things over before confronting the Muggles and one excuse was as good as another.

Number four, Privet Drive. From the other side of the road, Snape contemplated the house. So it was here, then, where the famous Potter had grown up... truly far from Godric’s Hollow.

He crossed the road and the perfectly kept garden in order to knock on the door. The man who opened it, by contrast, certainly did not look like the average Muggle. As wide as he was tall, he took up the full frame of the doorway and turned crimson red as he recognized his visitor. Sticking out his chest, he tried a bit more to forbid access to the house.

“The boy’s not come back!” he barked finally, when he'd calmed himself enough to speak. “We’ve had no news from him and that's fine with us! If he were to have the nerve to set foot here again, I’ll send him to hell myself. Now, leave my family the bloody hell alone, before I call the police. Do freaks like you have no respect for families in mourning?” he bellowed at the top of his voice.

That was a tirade as explicit as it was rich in information, pondered Snape.

So then, someone had died... and Potter was probably mixed up in it. Why the devil had Dumbledore not seen fit to inform him of this? How could he have neglected such a vital piece of information before sending him here? Had he feared that Snape would refuse to help Potter if he found out what he had done?

The pieces of the puzzle were rapidly falling into place. The infernal child had evidently found a way to get on the wrong side of his only family, and probably by a horrible crime that even the headmaster, with all the indulgence he accorded the odious boy, couldn't excuse.

He felt a nameless resentment rise up in him. Dumbledore and Potter. A right pair of deceivers…

“Unless you intend to keep on shouting from your doorstep and alert the whole neighbourhood, I'm afraid you'll want me to come in; I have certain details to go through with you and I have no intention of leaving until I have all the answers,” he said, his face unfathomable.

Vernon Dursley stared at him for a few seconds before finally letting him in with a ‘humpf’ which spoke volumes about his desire to offer hospitality to the man in black. He stepped to the side and slammed the door behind the Potions master. Crossing his arms over his large chest, he looked him up and down obstinately. If he had not been so annoyed, Snape would have almost found the man's childish attitude amusing.

“Are your wife and son here ?” he asked.

“No, thank god, they’ve gone out to buy a new computer for Dudley, give him something else to think about. Since his aunt's death, he’s been...” Vernon gestured exasperatedly. He wasn’t going to discuss his life with a freak, was he?

Snaped nodded. It was best that he be alone with Vernon at first; if Petunia recognised him, things were going to become even more complicated.

“My condolences,” he said perfunctorily. “Your sister, I assume?”

“You assume correctly,” grumbled Vernon, “and whatever you’ve got in mind, don’t think for a second that I’m going to take that little freak you managed to force on Petunia fifteen years ago back under my roof. It’s over with, you hear? I don’t care if all the legions of hell are after him, it’s all he deserves! As far as I’m concerned, I wish them luck. If this Lord-I-Don't-Know-Who wants to catch the boy and wring his neck, he can have him, believe you me!”

Snape stiffened. However deep the man’s pain, it did not lesssen the shock of his words. Did he truly understand the danger his nephew was in?  The contempt and hardness in the Muggle's face when he spoke about Potter were positively deranged.

“May I ask about the circumstances of her death?” Snape asked as courteously as he could.

“Car accident. Of course, what else!” thundered Vernon, torn between rage and grief.

Snape did not know the answer but was longing to know. What did this have to do with Potter? The boy was not supposed to leave the house during the summer.

“And Harry’s role in the accident?”

“His role?” grumbled Vernon. Then he said, louder, “You dare to ask me what he did?” His face became even redder while he waved his hands menacingly in the air.

“It’s all his fault! All of it! From the start! The contracts, the factory, my poor disturbed Dudley, Marge’s accident. He’s bad, bad like a plague, he brings misfortune on everyone around him!”

Snape tried to hide his incredulity.

“You will have to excuse me, but I thought Harry wasn’t allowed to leave the confines of the house this year. In such circumstances, how was he able to cause this accident? Did it take place in the alley?”

“In the alley! What a joke, in the alley! On a motorway, Marge lost control of her car on a motorway in Scotland ! In Scotland, you see, what a strange coincidence! That’s where that school for delinquants that takes Potter off our hands for most of the year is, isn’t it?”

This man is completely mad, thought Snape. Or perhaps just blinded by pain, but in any case completely irrational. He suddenly realized that he'd just called the boy Harry, whereas his uncle had referred to him as being ‘Potter’.

No, something was definitely wrong with this day. He would have liked to have been able to stop time for a moment and summarise all the contradictory information he had gathered in the last few hours... But he didn’t have the chance, as Vernon had gone off again and there was no stopping him.

“Lost control of her vehicle, Marge... as if that could happen... If you had known her, you would have known right away that couldn’t happen! Certainly not! That dirty little brat bewitched and killed her. As surely as if he’d shot her, point-blank!”

“Why would he have done such a thing?” asked Snape, half-intrigued, half-annoyed.

“Ah! Revenge, of course! A nasty piece of work, that boy... nasty, just like his parents. Marge knew it and she always made a point of putting him back in his place. Like we did, not that it was enough, when you look at what happened... He had already blown her up like a balloon, just because she tried to make him admit the truth about his parents! And now this, a car accident...to make us realise just how fiendish he is, of course. A car accident!”

“I’m afraid I still don’t see the relationship,” Snape persisted, battling against the beginnings of a migrane.

“The car accident. The Potters. That’s what we told the boy, so we didn’t have to talk about...” Vernon shot a look at Snape and the wand he was playing with reflexively and decided not to voice his opinion about wizards.

“You told Harry that his parents were killed in a car crash?“ asked the Potions master, trying to put together the cock and bull bits of information that the Muggle was throwing at him.

“On the dole, drunk as skunks, the accident... the two losers killed and their freak of nature son given to us to look after! This burden for years and all that for what? Dudley’s traumatised, Marge is dead, all our family soon to be on the streets... I should have abandoned him somewhere that first evening, as I said to Petunia, but we had to ‘protect’ the demon, so we kept him. And what good did it do? Hmm, what good?”

Certainly not for him, thought Snape. It was no longer just a migraine, but nausea that was overcoming him now. Where had he gone wrong? Or more precisely, where had Potter gone wrong?

He took a deep breath and tried to suppress the furious desire to cast a Legilimens at the man to extract from him the information he wanted. Patience, he had something to do first…

“I would like to see the boy’s room,” he demanded abruptly.

The man grumbled.

“You’re not coming any further into my house! You and your sort have already done enough harm here. I’ve told you the boy’s not here, now leave!”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” replied Snape dryly. “The room. Now.” He rolled his wand between his fingers, whilst fixing Vernon with a penetrating gaze.

The Muggle grumbled out a few words that were supposed to be insulting, but moved reluctantly towards the stairs.

The house was as meticulously well-kept and traditional on the inside as it was on the outside. With the exception, however, of the door the man stopped in front of: it was covered with solid locks and seemed poorly fixed to its hinges, as if it had been regularly slammed or broken down.

Snape experienced an instant of doubt: was this really Potter’s room? Did they think he was a wild animal? The lack of understanding Dumbledore had spoken of seemed to have reached rock bottom. Vernon opened the door and gestured with his chin that he could enter.

“After you,” the wizard signaled him.

The man grumbled, then after a second’s hesitation, went through the door, Snape on his heels. The first thing the Potions master noticed were the bars on the window. Dumbledore had alluded to them, but strangely the image hadn’t really registered. At this hour of the day, the sun came through the window, projecting their shadow across the room, making it difficult to see anything else.

The bare walls, the battered mattress, the empty wardrobe, it all conspired to make the room seem like a cell. And it had only been two weeks since the boy left… So this was where the famous Harry Potter grew up. A new story, a new puzzle was slowly taking shape in the professor’s mind.

He was going to get to the bottom of this.

“What happened the last time Harry was here?”

Vernon ground out a few words, then seeing the Potions master's expression, he cleared his throat.

“I’ve already told all this to that old fool. I told the boy to pack his bags and leave, that he wasn’t welcome here anymore.”

“How exactly did you phrase it?”

Vernon figeted, visibly ill at ease. Now was a good time.

“Legilimens!”

An instant later, Snape found himself once again in a slightly different version of the room. A few belongings were lying on the floor, the wardrobe was shut, and a fatigued-looking teenager was watching a redder-than-ever Vernon Dursley pace towards him.

The boy was thin, he saw, thinner even than the version resting at Grimmauld Place. There were large dark circles under his eyes and Snape thought he could make out the shadow of a bruise on his cheek.

“She’s dead,”

The boy seemed as surprised as Snape had been, but he apologised without seeking clarification.

“Sorry!” Vernon finally shouted, “you’d better be! It’s your fault ! Your fault!”

Yes, it looked as though even Harry didn’t see how he could be implicated. Snape couldn't help but feel relief.

“You, your abnormality… your fault… always! You bring bad luck! You attract death!”

While Vernon was endeavoring to inform the boy just how he was responsible for all the misfortune in the world, Snape was able to watch as Harry's expression became more and more empty and sorrowful. Guilt was now written all over his face.

Snape groaned: the boy made it a point of honour never to believe a word adults said to him, but he accepted without objection the irrational accusations made by his uncle. Where was the logic in that?

His guilty appearance was not lost on his uncle either. Snape watched the man slowly unbuckle his belt with a malevolent smile on his face before winding it around his hand, letting the buckle swing free. Potter did not seem aware of what was coming, but Snape couldn't help but shudder: the boy’s wounds! No, it wasn’t possible, he hadn't dared!

Vernon confirmed his fears by swinging the strap as hard as he could against the boy‘s chest. The boy scarcely reacted, lost in a haze of guilt. A second blow seemed to pull him out of his stupor, and Snape thought for an instant that he was finally going to fight back, but he could only stand helpless in face of the boy's capitulation.

Without trying to further protect himself, he accepted the punishment as if he'd deserved it.

The Potions professor could not believe his eyes. Potter… Potter, who had faced Voldemort as regular as clockwork, who had defied a dragon and the Dementors and who endured no authority if he'd decided not to. Without a word, Potter accepted being accused of murder and being beaten mercilessly, in the most humiliating manner, for a crime about which he hadn't the slightest idea!

The belt struck again and again, the iron buckle tearing his skin and the boy still did nothing to defend himself. Out of strength, he ended by collapsing semi-conscious to the floor. This did not seem to calm Vernon, whose fury doubled, a perverse gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

Finally tired of having to bend over to hit the boy, and worn out himself, he kicked viciously several times to finish the boy off.

‘And there’s the cause of the broken arm,’ mused Snape, watching a particularly violent kick land on the boy’s shoulder. Then on his sides…

‘Yet another thing I didn’t notice,’ he thought to himself bitterly as he heard a dull crack.

“You don’t live here anymore.”

With a last glance filled with contempt and hate, the man spat on the boy’s unmoving body and left without looking back.

No, Potter didn’t live there anymore; that would have been certain even if the brute had not wished it. He, Severus, would've never permitted it… As for Dumbledore, he didn't even dare imagine his reaction when he learned the details of his protégé's eviction.

The vision became blurry. Snape now felt rather ill, but he had no intention of staying there. Why hadn't the boy defended himself against a mere Muggle? He'd seemed so fearful and resigned... Refusing to break the Legilimency link, he searched Vernon’s memory for other recollections of the boy.

And he found them…

Potter that summer, crying out in his sleep and being hit as his consolatioon.

Potter a bit younger, cooking and cleaning the house into the middle of the night.

Potter starving, trying to filch food and ending up locked in his room.

Harry, definitely smaller, crying because his cousin, ressembling a nasty baby elephant, had beaten him and Harry'd received a slap for having provoked him.

Freak. Good for nothing. Son of an alcoholic. Delinquent. A mistake of nature. Burden.

And to finish, the image of a small boy who couldn’t have been five years old, cowering, terrified, deep in a cupboard, face dripping with tears, closing his eyes as an enormous hand flew towards his face.

That was enough. Oh yes, that was definitely enough. Snape had just skimmed fifteen years of Potter’s life and he hadn't the least desire to dig any deeper.

How could he, this Muggle, this poor excuse for a human being! He who should have been honoured beyond his wildest dreams to have the privilege of raising the boy who lived. Survived, that was the well-chosen word, and more than once, by all accounts.

Any wizarding family would have raised the boy like a son, and this Muggle who was supposed to be his uncle… Only, did he know what he was risking if the wizarding world ever one day came to find out?

How could the boy be so arrogant at Hogwarts and yet so submissive in front of his family ? For certain, Snape had been able to see a few outright attempts at rebellion in the adolescent Harry in Vernon’s memories, but nothing that held a candle to the resignation and anguished submissiveness that he'd shown all these years.

At Hogwarts, however… In his memory Snape ran through different scenes of Potter in the castle. Potter, yes, but which one? he mused for a moment. James and Harry, who resembled each other so much that that they blurred into one another… And yet.

What would the arrogant James Potter have said if he’d been able to see his his terrorized son in the back of a cupboard, or being beaten by a belt by the one who was supposed to raise him as his own child ? He would turn over in his grave… but Snape was incapable of feeling glad about it. His old enemy was no longer in a position to avenge his son, but, he, Snape, was. And he had never had such a good opportunity to repay his debt to James.

Opposite him, Vernon Dursley was breathing heavily, his breath short and his eyes unfocused.

Aware that the wizard was scrutinizing him, he jumped and started to mumble.

“It isn’t… I didn’t… it’s not like that.”

“Not like that ?” replied Snape softly, taking a step towards him.

“No! It’s not what you think!” shouted Vernon as panic overtook him. “Listen, that boy Potter, he’s not normal!”

“No, indeed. He’s a wizard, a hero in our world, Merlin forgive me and, in any event, the only person to have survived the Dark Lord on several occasions. His destiny is to save our world… A child. An adolescent with responsibilities too great for him and with many more problems than most people realise…”

“He’s a freak!” interrupted Vernon. “He’s brought nothing but misfortune since he day he arrived! He’s bad, it’s in his blood, he…”

“I’ve heard enough,” said Snape dryly. “I am sufficiently well-placed to know that Harry is not a model teenager. But still, even if he had been a reincarnation of the Dark Lord himself, I would still be unable to find any excuse for your abominable treatment of a child. And I speak only for myself… I would not like to be in your place, Vernon, when Dumbledore and the rest of Mr Potter’s fan club learn how you have systematically and methodically ruined his life. Do you have even the faintest idea what that child represents?” he hissed.

“Nevertheless, Mr Dursley, we have something in common,” he continued in a calmer voice.

He thought he saw a glimmer of hope in the man’s eyes, but this was quickly replaced by panic when he realised that his feet were not touching the floor.

“We both experience certain difficulties in suppressing our murderous impulses.”

Vernon’s eyes literally bulged with terror when he found himself thrown against a wall. Then against another. And then another. Or was this the ceiling?

When he opened his eyes, he was stretched out on the floor, panting. He threw a wild look at the Potions master, who looked him up and down, a disgusted look on his face.

“I would stay longer to discuss the benefits of education with you, Dursley, but I believe that your belt and yourself have much to talk about,” said Snape before murmuring a spell in the man’s direction.

Vernon let out a little croak as he felt the heavy belt slip from his waist and float up into the air.

“I don’t want to interrupt your tete-a-tete. On the other hand, I still have to meet your charming little family; I'm going to wait for them in the sitting room, if you will excuse me,” sniggered Snape as he left the room with a brief nod of his head.

He had scarcely shut the door when he heard the familiar sound of a leather belt violently striking skin. The same sound he had heard repeated endlessly, in Vernon’s memories a few minutes earlier. He looked at the door with a certain degree of satisfaction, fastened the locks one by one, taking care that each click resonated mercilessly.

A good deed accomplished.

“Don’t ever again presume to lay a hand on my cat,” he murmured.

Then, to the sound of Dursley’s screams, he calmly went down the stairs, and into the sitting room to await the rest of the family.

Snape made a circular scan of the overly clean room. Everything here looked artificial, right down to the photos covering the walls and the pedestal tables. A fat blond boy surrounded by his smiling parents; a perfect little family with their fixed smiles. Nothing to hint that Harry belonged here, and without a doubt, that had effectively been the case.

Snape thought briefly back to the incessant allusions to the spoilt-boy Harry that he'd generously made all these years. If it hadn’t been so pathetic, he would have almost laughed.

Snape, who'd thought he'd mastered the subtle art of a well-placed insult, was going to have to reevaluate his standards anew. In more ways than one.

The front door opened and voices could be heard in the hall.

“Vernon! We’re home! Can you come and give us a hand?”

Snape stood, a small smile on his lips, and moved nonchalantly towards the new arrivals.

In the foyer, Petunia and her son were struggling with some large boxes. She hadn’t much changed, thought Snape. Even thinner, her face fixed in an unpleasant expression, her movements stiff… how could this woman be related to Lily? Petunia caught sight of him suddenly and jumped, dropping a package.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Where is Vernon?”

Snape continued to stare at her without saying a word. Petunia frowned, a little glimmer of understanding deep in her eyes.

“Dudley, go to your room, dear.”

“But, my compu…”  The enormous teenager, almost hidden beneath rolls of fat, noticed the intruder and froze as he saw his clothes and the wand he held in his hand. He squealed like a pig and ran up the stairs, leaving his mother to face the wizard alone.

What a fine example of filial devotion, thought Snape.

Petunia continued to stare at him, an expression of disgust and hatred on her face.

“I know you. You’re that horrible boy who turned Lily into a freak.”

“Is it an obsession in this family to impute imaginary crimes to others?”  Snape asked dryly.

Petunia clicked her tongue.

“Where is Vernon?”

“He is not available at the moment. You will find him in your nephew’s bedroom, but not before we have had a little chat.”

Petunia let out a horsey little laugh.

“About what? That little freak my sister left us, I presume? He’s not here. And he’s not coming back again. Vernon made sure of that.”

Snape felt his anger growing. Petunia… Lily’s sister, this gangly girl always hanging onto her little sister's arm, whether to protect her or hold her back, no one knew.

Given, Vernon was a bully....but the same blood as Petunia's ran in Harry's veins.

One more time, Snape returned to the same question; how could she?

“Yes, I am aware of that,” he said finally. ”Your husband and I had a little chat... a heart to heart."

The woman frowned suspiciously.

“Mr Dursley gave me, quite involuntarily I must admit, the opportunity to see some particularly significant scenes in Harry’s life with you.”

Snape was silent, awaiting a reaction. Petunia froze.

“We took him in under our roof. We fed him, gave him clothes, sent him to school. He had everything he needed,” she hissed.

“That’s not what I saw,” replied Snape softly; “Why, Petunia?”

The woman’s face twisted with rage and frustration.

“I never asked for this burden! If he was that precious to you, all the fools of your sort, why didn’t you keep him? It wasn't enough to have such abominations in the house with Lily and everyone thinking she was so great. If our parents hadn’t worshipped her, her and her abnormality, perhaps she would have stayed normal! Like me... but they didn’t care about that, did they? And then the boy... as if we needed a freak in our family!”

“And you saw to it that he was never pampered, as Lily had been...”

“Of course,” replied Petunia shortly, “I wasn’t going to allow the slightest chance that he’d turn out like my sister.”

“So you would claim to have mistreated the boy to save his life ?” asked Snape, with a smidgeon of hope.

But Petunia one again looked disgusted.

“Save him? That’s what we did by taking him in, the little snake, isn’t it? If he’s managed to get himself killed, for all that I care, good riddance. Perhaps, we’ll finally be able to live in peace.”

Snape felt overcome with bitterness. Regretfully, he asked the question that burned his lips.

“This is Lily’s son, Petunia. How could you not love him?”

He tried to hope that the woman would insult him, protest, shout that he had no right to say it and that, of course, she loved him, in spite of everything...

But Petunia’s expression destroyed his every hope.

“Why should I have? Dumbledore was able to make me take him and keep him under my roof, but he couldn’t force me to love him, could he? Especially when I had my wonderful little Dudley, so beautiful, so kind, so normal. As for Lily... the boy is nothing like my sister. He’s the spitting image of his good for nothing father. I want nothing to do with that freak.”

Snape was speechless.

That he would find this a pertinent argument was one thing, but Petunia? Lily’s sister, who had raised Harry? What was wrong with this woman?

She had loved her sister, he was sure... After her death, she should have felt honoured and deeply moved to find herself entrusted with her son, and should have cherished him in memory of Lily.

As he would have done.

Oh, Lily, he thought... how many times will you have been betrayed?

He looked at the narrow-faced woman with a mixture of disgust and sadness. She was so different from her sister. Harry, even though for all intents and purposes he had never known his mother, and looked so dangerously like his father, was actually more like Lily than Petunia had ever been.

Seeing the way the Potions master was looking at her, Petunia scowled.

“You, why did you not take him, if you care so much about him? After all, my sister was forever talking about you, every time she came home. He could just as easily have been your son.”

“He could have been, yes, but for a few years,” Snape replied impassively.

‘He should have been,’ he thought.

“So keep him if you find him. Don’t count on me to take care of him. I’ve done enough for the little ingrate, I never want to see him here again. Not after what's happened.”

“You're in a postion to know that Harry had nothing to do with that accident,” said Snape.

“Perhaps. But Vernon doesn’t know that....Nor does Dudley.”

Her tone of voice clearly indicated that the conversation was finished.

Severus rather agreed. He felt more exhausted and stiff than after a round of Cruciatus at the hands of Voldemort. Everything about this house, about this family was unhealthy.

And Harry...Merlin. Harry should never ever return here. He would see to it. For who had really looked after the boy?

Certainly not his so-called family, who wanted nothing more than for him to disappear. Not Dumbledore either, who had let him grow up and return here... Did he even know the half of it? Snape hoped with all his heart that such was not the case. Otherwise... what was he to think?

In every case, one fact remained, Potter could have had as many admirers and purported bodyguards that he wanted, but no one had really taken care of the boy.

And he firmly intended to change that.

He would not allow Lily’s death to have been for nothing.  For so much suffering. He would not allow anyone to hurt his cat.

In any case, whether the boy wanted it or not, he intended to keep a close eye on Harry, and not just during Quidditch matches.

When he finally stepped into the street, the sun was still shining. Snape found this almost strange. Disturbing.

The world had just tilted slightly, say five degrees to the right. His world, which revolved around Potter since he'd arrived at Hogwarts five years earlier. Potter, who was not Potter, in the end. But Harry, rather. Or if necessary, Shadow.

With one last glance at number four, Privet Drive, Snape concealed himself in the shadow of a wall to Disapparate.

At the moment he disappeared, a face suddenly appeared before his eyes, making him jump. For a second, he could see Lily’s face smiling at him, her lips forming the words ‘thank you’.

And behind her, the familiar and yet different face of James Potter, who graced him with a look full of gratitude.

When Snape Apparated into his lab, it felt once more as though years had passed since he was last there. And still, yet again, it had been no more than a few hours...

He saw the jumper and tried to envision Shadow sleeping on it, through the new perspective he had gained of Potter.

A timid cat, who didn't like sudden movements, who didn’t draw attention to himself and who never meowed... who had taken up with the first person to show him a hint of kindness, offering his loyalty in exchange.

A cat who did not complain about his injuries and who devoured his food as though he had never had any before.

Potter. His cat. He couldn’t help but feel suddenly possessive towards the animal... and the teenager. He was going to have to come quicky to his senses, however ; this was Potter, Harry Potter, there wasn’t a living soul who wanted to see him hanging around the boy any more than was necessary. With the exception of Dumbledore, perhaps, but the old fool had an annoying habit of wanting to go against nature and create improbable associations.

And an even more irritating exception was that of Voldemort, who, if he started to become suspicious of Snape's intentions regarding Potter, then the Potions master would be the first to suffer. The Dark Lord would use him to get hold of the boy and his position would be compromised. He was going to have to use all his Occlumency skills.

He was a spy and had been for years. If he had managed to fool the Dark Lord concerning his loyalty up until now, he could still do it. He knew to remain discreet and aloof, in all circumstances.

But he was still going to have a serious discussion with Dumbledore about his methods of keeping the boy safe.

He cast a final look about the room before throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace.

Yes, the world had tilted on its axis... and he was going to have to reorient himself.Quickly.

When he arrived at Grimmauld Place, the place was empty. It was now not much past noon, but apparently the Order members hadn't eaten there today. Dumbledore had no doubt stayed alone with Potter...

He was going to go up and join them, but needed a moment to himself. A moment to put his thoughts in order and think about what he was going to say to the headmaster... and how he was going to say it.

Up above, a door closed softly and he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later Dumbledore entered the Blacks’ sitting room.

He looked inquisitive, a small smile on his lips as he joined the Potions master next to the fireplace. Lost in thought, Snape did not immediately look up.

“Severus ?”

Snape finally looked up at the headmaster, whose smile disappeared instantly. Quite suddenly he seemed to age several years and his shoulders fell as he stared at the professor.

“Perhaps we should sit down ?” he suggested.

Snape nodded and sat down on one of the comfortable armchairs, his legs crossed, and took a deep breath while Dumbledore took a seat opposite.

“Where are things, Severus ?” he asked in a low voice.

Snape could not restrain a grimace of disgust.

“How often did you check on the living conditions of your little protégé, Albus ?”

“This summer, or before he started at Hogwarts ?” asked the headmaster.

A sneer answered him.

Dumbledore sighed.

“Judging by your reaction, not often enough. Harry wrote regularly this summer and gave no impression of having been unwelcome,” he said.

“Unwelcome ?” queried the Potions master incredulously. “Unwelcome, Albus? Do you have any idea how the boy is treated at home ? Or what his so-called family thinks of him, and makes him think of himself ?”

“Severus, they are his family ! Their way of life is undoubtedly very different from ours and there is no doubt that Harry’s presence there is a disruption, but he is still their nephew and they have protected him until now!” protested Dumbledore.

Snape stiffened, his hands clenched on the arms of the chair.

“Protected him ? By throwing him out at the first opportunity?”

The grey-haired wizard opened his mouth to reply, but didn't get the chance.

“I don’t want to know anything about their reasons ! The loss of a close relative is always painful, but to blame this death on a child already in mourning... Oh yes, they knew, Albus ! Harry wakes up every night crying from nightmares of Black’s death!” snarled Snape, leaping to his feet.

The headmaster leant back a bit more in his armchair, eyes half-closed, but the Potions master did not give him time to form an answer..

“As to his injuries, I have discovered their origin and I can treat them,” he continued more calmly. “And you were right, they are not magical injuries.”

Dumbledore cast him an almost imploring look, but Snape continued, teeth clenched.

“They were inflicted, one by one, with a belt, wielded by his uncle.”

The headmaster closed his eyes completely this time, resting his forehead on a hand. But Snape had no intention of finishing there. Dumbledore himself had not wanted to use Legilimancy on the fat bully who'd masqueraded as the boy’s uncle, but he would not necessarily escape a detailed account of his misdeeds.

“It would seem that Vernon Dursley was truly convinced of your little protege’s guilt, Albus. Petunia said nothing to contradict him, but we’ll come back to that charming woman later. Be that as it may, Vernon went straightaway to tell his nephew what he thought of him and his habit of bringing misfortune upon people. Of causing their deaths. And in order to ensure his point of view was fully understood, he beat the lesson into the boy’s head with his belt before breaking several bones by kicking him. So, what do you think now of their manner of protecting him, Albus ? And of loving him?”

Snape stopped, having run out of breath, and stared at the old man opposite him. Now, he had his head in his hands and looked nothing like the powerful wizard whom even Voldemort feared, nothing like the respected headmaster of the famous school of witchcraft and wizardry. Snape saw nothing but an old man, broken by his mistakes, who could have very well done with a stiff drink.

Muttering, Snape opened the drinks cabinet, got out a bottle of whisky and filled a glass. He hadn’t meant to shout at the headmaster in such an accusatory tone. The naive and casual manner with which he'd considered Harry’s safety at the Muggles had made Snape see red. How could Dumbledore have been so negligent towards a child he seemed to hold so dear ? On whom rested the future of the wizarding world ?

He held the glass out to the headmaster, who took it with a slightly trembling hand.

Reluctantly, Snape sat down again in his chair, giving both himself and the old man time to calm down.

“Never before this,” Dumbledore said finally in a weak voice, “I 've had no reason to suspect that Vernon Dursley could be violent towards Harry. Have you delved into his memories, Severus ? With respect to Harry ?”

Snape nodded, but did not immediately reply. Should he tell him all of it? The man already seemed weighed down by what he had learned so far. Snape sighed… He scarcely had a choice; Harry’s safety depended on it.

“Yes, I searched his memories for several representative scenes showing his relationship with the boy. From the day he first arrived, up until this summer…”

He paused once again, gathering his thoughts. The famous Harry Potter, hated and neglected his whole childhood…. The Daily Prophet would have a field day. In any event, Potter had been careful not to draw attention to himself and, to some extent, Snape understood perfectly. It was a certain sense of propriety that Snape would not himself expose.

He had to give Dumbledore his report, but nothing required him to go into great detail. If the man absolutely had to have his fill of sordid anecdotes, he could go to the Dursleys himself for them ; Snape was sure that he'd seen but the tip of the iceberg.

Meeting the headmaster's eye once again, Snape saw there his expectation and apprehension. No, it definitely would accomplish noththing to give more detail than strictly necessary.

“Apparently, Vernon Dursley ratcheted the violence up a notch following Harry’s return this year. I don’t think he'd beaten him so severely before this point, though it appears he never had any hesitation over applying a well-placed slap. On the other hand, depriving the boy of food and overburdening him with chores… That seems to be the normal routine of this household. But it’s not only that, Albus…they truly hate the child. All of them. None of them has ever really thought to protect him, they've all just tolerated him… his fate doesn’t concern them in the slightest. There is no way he can go back there.”

Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair.

“Petunia is Harry’s aunt, they share the same blood. I know that Vernon Dursley holds a very negative image of the magical world but Petunia grew up with Lily, and you know how attached she was to her. She will be able to make her husband see sense once tempers have calmed down, I am certain of it. Nevertheless, it seems evident that Harry cannot return. The protection has proven to be too weak and after what you have just told me, Severus…”

Snape interrupted him, his voice dangerously calm.

“You haven't listened to me, Albus. Or rather, you don’t want to hear it. Yes, Petunia loved Lily. But she never transferred any of that love to Harry. To coin a phrase, ‘You cannot force a person to love’. Listen carefully to me this time : that woman has never considered her nephew as anything but a burden and a nuisance. She, like her husband, did everything in her power to make his life miserable. By mutual agreement, they mistreated him, deprived him of food, treated him like a freak, and I probably know only the half of it. Petunia has no intention of making anyone see reason : one way or another she wants to get rid of Potter, and encourages her husband in this.

“She was present when Vernon literally pounded the boy, and she did not intervene. After that, she threw out the boy’s glasses so you wouldn’t find them, and would deduce from that that the boy did not leave of his own accord. The woman is a monster….the whole family are monsters . I would on no account permit the boy to set foot in that house again, not even if the wards were reestablished even better than before,” he concluded, almost hissing the last sentence through his teeth.

He could see a glitter of amusement in the headmaster’s eyes, well hidden by the shock his words had caused.

“My, my, Severus, what a passionate plea that was… and I don’t blame you a bit,” he added, seeing the Potions master’s eyes harden.

“My mistakes regarding the boy are so numerous that the simple sight of him will make me blush with shame. I sent you to the Dursleys without giving you all the information in my possession, for which I am without excuse, Professor. It seemed to me that your view of things would be more complete and objective if you discovered them without prior knowledge. I had not realised how brutal the revelations would be, however, and…for that I am sorry.”

He sighed. Snape frowned, preparing himself to listen to the headmaster’s story.

“I have always known that Harry’s family was not ideal in a number of ways. Mrs Figg, a Squib neighbour, was tasked with keeping an eye on him. Her reports indicated that the boy did not seem to be treated as an equal with his cousin and that the care accorded to him left something to be desired. However, it was never a question of mistreatment, strictly speaking. Considering the strengthof the wards which protected him, it seemed a small price to pay.”

Snape clenched his teeth, but did not reply. What had the old fool been thinking ?

“In addition, I shared your fears, though for different reasons, that Harry would become arrogant and weak if he were raised by people in our world who would know his value all too well.. A wizarding family would have raised him as Harry Potter, famous hero, no thanks to himself …and a worthy successor to his parents. By staying with his Muggle family, Harry had the chance to grow up like a normal child.”

Dumbledore watched the Potions master freeze in his chair again, ready to leap up.

“But I realise now that he never had that chance, not in the way I intended it, » he added. “When term starts again at Hogwarts, and Harry is once again safe, I will visit the Dursley family myself. After which, wizarding social services will have the task of removing Harry from their guardianship. By all accounts, this should not be a problem,” he concluded with a sigh.

Calmer now, Snape nodded.

“To whom will you entrust the boy ?” he asked.

“That question merits some reflection, but I think that the Weasley family presents as a first choice. They have regularly raised the question in the past and already consider Harry as a son. I don’t think Harry will object either…”

“No,” agreed the Potions professor, “he would no doubt even see it as a veritable birthday present .”

The two men smiled slightly. The storm had passed… For now, Harry was going to have to be taken care of, and the problems related to this had only just begun.

“How has Harry behaved in my absence ?” asked Snape, more relaxed now.

He thought he saw a flash of mischief flicker in the headmaster’s eyes.

“It is quite obvious that Harry the cat trusts only you, Severus. I wasn't able to get near him….but I did not try for very long either. My presence seemed to disturb him, but I did not want to leave him alone in his room. I followed your advice, but he didn’t want to touch the fish I offered him. When I left him, he was hidden under a chest of drawers and glared at me as if I were Fang’s long-lost cousin.”

Snape sighed.

“He must be hungry, though…I'll go up and see him. His wounds being exactly what they seem to be, it won’t be hard to heal them, but we'll still need to sort out his transformation problems. If the wounds reopen each time Harry returns to human form, they could rapidly get worse.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“We're going to have a great deal of work to do with this boy before term starts . You saw nothing in the Dursleys’ memories that could explain this new ability ?”

Snape thought pensively for a moment.

“Not in their memories, no, but there was something else…. In the boy’s bedroom, I felt traces of magic which could not have been his. Something powerful, ancient and yet recent. I couldn’t identify it, but I think the two could be connected .”

Dumbledore’s eyes were sparkling now.

“Your extraordinary sensitivity to magic is not the least of your talents, Severus… I myself did not detect it on my trip there. Your gift was no doubt developed largely by your Muggle environment where you grew up.”

Snape picked up the implication and frowned.

“I have never claimed that growing up among Muggles was a hardship, Albus. But the way Potter was brought up, on the other hand, definitely was one.”

Dumbledore nodded and waved his hand in a conciliatory gesture. This was probably not the time to remind the professor of the many things he and the boy had in common.

But did Snape really have need of that? Seeing how he had defended Harry, and the rage that overtook him when he'd recounted the abuse Harry had suffered at the hands of his family, the professor’s opinion had just taken a completely different turn.

And this situation quite suited Dumbledore.

If he had failed Harry for so long, he had scarcely watched over Severus any better, from his arrival at Hogwarts as a mere student. The headmaster heartily intended to remedy that now, and it seemed more and more evident that the solution was to be found in this possessiveness the professor suddenly had when talking about the boy, and in the blind confidence the cat had towards this same professor.

He followed the Potions master into the room where they found the cat hidden under the chest of drawers, in the exact spot where the headmaster had left him. Snape took the bowl of fish and smelled it.

“It is fresh... Mr Potter is being paranoid.”

He bent down .

“Come on, don’t be stupid, this fish is very good.” He put the bowl down in front of the chest this time.

The cat kept his eyes trained on the professor, seeming hesitant.

Snape knew what was confusing the cat, but he was certainly not going to change his tone of voice in front of the headmaster. He felt that he had given enough of himself away today while reporting in the sitting room.

It was Dumbledore, however, who addressed the problem.

“I think Harry as he is now is no longer accustomed to your way of speaking. You probably don’t speak to a cat as you would a student...” he suggested gently.

Snape groaned, but ended by resigning himself. Just as well to get this over with quickly, and it would remain strictly between him and the headmaster.

“Come on, cat. Come here. Dinner time,” he said in his 'Shadow' voice. Seeing the cat hazard a fearful step towards him, sensitive to his change in tone, Snape suddenly realised that he had only ever used such a tone of voice for Shadow. He had never had a pet before and even less reason to address anyone in such a soothing voice.

He watched as the cat came towards him to eat the fish in the bowl at his feet. He had to stop himself from automatically petting the animal. He hadn't the least desire to turn around and see the look in Dumbledore’s eyes just then, Merlin save him from this absolutley ridiculous situation.

When the cat had finished with its bowl, he finally decided to get up. Contrary to Snape's expectations, it was Shadow that the headmaster was staring at…nostalgically? Was he rueing the fact that Potter had waited for Snape's permission to eat, refusing the food offered to him by the old man, who saw himself as his protector?

Snape couldn't help but feel a mixture of triumph and satisfaction, that he quickly tried to suppress.

Potter was going to have to resume his human form, and the thought of it was in no way amusing. Truly not.

“What do you think, Albus ? He seems calm. There are only two of us and the room is familiar to him... Should we change him back ?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Do you have your potions with you ? I'm afraid there'll be a repeat of what happened earlier, whatever precautions we take.”

Snape nodded. Yes, everything was ready, he had no reason to postpone it.

“Potter. Cat. Listen to me carefully... I know that your last transformation didn't leave you with a good impression, but we’re going to make sure that everything goes well this time. No one is going to hurt you, you are safe. Trust us.”

He took a step backward and looked at Dumbledore, who indicated he should start.

“Animagus revelio!”

A moment later, an unsteady and lost-looking Potter stood before them in his ripped clothes, his injuries still visible but not bleeding, Snape noted with relief.

The boy leant awkwardly against the chest of drawers, trying to find his balance and his wits. Squinting, he seemed to be battling to regain his awareness.

It looked as though the world had tilted for him too, and by more than five degrees, mused Snape.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak to Harry, but Snape silenced him with a wave of his hand. Better to give the boy time to resolve his dilemma himself before interfering.

He was rewarded a few moments later when he heard a weak voice mumble : “Where...” The boy held a hand on his forehead, eyes half closed, as though he were suffering the start of a migraine.

Snape opened a potion and pressed it into the boy’s hands.

“Drink that, Potter ”

Hearing his name, the boy pushed the vial away and tried to retreat.

Snape sighed.

“Harry. Take it, it should make you feel better.”

Taking advantage of the boy’s hesitation, Snape shoved the potion into his hands and lifted them gently towards his mouth.

The boy swallowed without a fight. He felt sick, he was no longer sure who he was, but the voice was reassuring .

A moment later, he felt his headache fade, and then he relaxed slightly.

“And to your question, we’re at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” continued the voice in the same even and comforting tone.

“Sirius...” he murmured.

“Yes,” replied another voice which made him jump. “Sirius’s house... yours now, Harry.”

The hazy silhouette who'd spoken remained on the other side of the room. That voice... he knew it, it was synonymous with safety, with authority too, and Hogwarts. That voice stood for Hogwarts. An old man. Dumbledore, yes, it was Dumbledore, the headmaster, who had watched over him since he'd arrived there.

But then, the other voice? He liked it and feared at the same time. He couldn’t work out if it was unpleasant or comforting.

In a way, more comforting than the headmaster’s, because... because? Images flashed through his mind, too fast, too many...

He heard Dumbledore’s voice call his name.

“Harry, would you like to sit on the bed for a few moments ?”

It was actually a good suggestion. He let himself drop onto the bed, a good distance from the two figures. He hurt everywhere in spite of the potion... nothing unbearable, but he felt like he’d been trampled by a hippogriff.

He jumped when the old man's voice called to him again.

“How do you feel, Harry ?”

He really didn’t know what to say to that question, or rather how to say it.

“I....fine. Sort of,” he heard himself respond. Was that truly he who'd spoken? Yes, it must have been.

“Could you tell us your name ?” the other voice asked, that of the man in black near the chest of drawers. The man in black...the dungeons...Snape ! His name was Snape and he was... Oh Merlin... how could he....how was he…?

His memories were all jumbled up again.

“Harry James Potter,” he replied rotely.

He sensed more than saw the satisfied look that passed between the two men.

“Cat...” he added, without knowing why. He had wanted to say another name, but held it back at the last minute. He didn’t want to say this other name. It was his, and it was also ...Snape’s ?

He stared at the professor, trying to get a clearer picture of the silhouette. Was it really the same person as was in his memory ?

Harry saw the man startle when he said his other name. He had confusedly sensed that neither did the man want him to reveal the name he had given the cat... Was he afraid of being ridiculed ? Probably... his memories were starting to sort themselves out in his head. He had spent a great deal of time with Snape in recent weeks, and the man hadn’t acted as he usally would've.

“Harry, do you remember who we are ?” asked the voice of the man with the long beard. The one who had offered him fish earlier... Oh, god. What had happened ?

“You’re Professor Dumbledore and...” he hesitated. How should he say it ? “Professor Snape. I think,” he concluded miserably.

“Very good, Harry,” Dumbledore reassured him. “You had us very worried. We'd lost track of you for a long while and were afraid you had come to harm.”

Afraid ? Yes, probably... The two men seemed tense. There'd been that scene in the sitting room... in the dungeon... and before that ?

“Do you remember anything, my boy ?” asked the voice.

“Yes...” replied Harry without moving. “But it’s all fuzzy...as if I were seeing it through someone else's eyes.”

“The eyes of a cat perhaps ?” suggested Dumbledore.

Harry thought about that. The word resonated familiarly in his head. Yes, that made sense... He'd thought cats were good at jumping, but that it was difficult to lick himself to get clean…

Oh Merlin.

The teenager suddenly went beet-red as as the memories returned full-force to his mind. Memories that now made perfect sense.

“It’s all right, Harry, you have nothing to worry about. We still don’t know what happened to you, but you are safe now and we are going to take care of all this,” Dumbledore said comfortingly.

It suddenly struck Harry that he would never dare look the Potions professor in the eye again. He had... oh blimey, he had taken up residence in the professor’s lab for...how long ? A good two weeks, if one was to believe the man’s shouts when he'd discovered Harry's identity.

He had never so badly wanted the ground to swallow him up. Of all the embarrassing situations he could've lived through, this one took the biscuit. Even the appearance of Moaning Myrtle in the prefects’ bathroom hadn’t made him feel so ill at ease.

The worst thing was that he couldn’t bring himself to entirely regret his two weeks of amnesia. For possibly the first time in his life, he had felt safe. Protected. He was safe at Hogwarts, of course, but that was different... Something could always happen in the corridors, a basilisk or an escaped prisoner...and in the dungeon, he'd felt...oh, very well, he'd felt at home.

By the fire, in his armchair, on his jumper, with the Man in Black to protect him. It was completely pathetic...and yet he was already missing it.

How he'd been able to come to consider Snape as a symbol of safety, he didn’t know...There might be something to be said for amnesia, after all.

Thinking hard about it, the professor had had indeed contributed to this situation. He’d welcomed and cared for him... He'd had this way of speaking to him, paid attention to him, of seeking out his company, even.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Not only did the situation make him feel sick with shame, but...it was over, wasn’t it ? Snape was going to be furious with him. Really furious... The business with the Pensieve had been but a small foretaste of what was waiting for him now.

Harry was, at least, almost sure that the professor had no intention of hitting him. He'd had plenty of opportunity to do so and, even, to wring his neck…but he had brought him here, and cared for him.

“Harry ?” Dumbledore called to him.

The boy jumped.

“Harry, we'll need your help to piece together the last few weeks. We now know where you were when we were looking for you and the reasons you left, but there are many parts we don’t know. Could you, please, search for your memories since, say, the moment you arrived this summer at Privet Drive ?”

An irritated clicking of a tongue answered the headmaster, and Snape's voice, colder this time, interrupted him.

“Potter, how do you feel ? Do you need a potion ?”

Snape was worried about his health ? That was new... no, not new, he revised, the man had been more concerned about his well being for the last two weeks than all the rest of the world had been for… what ? His whole life ?

“I think I’ll be all right, thanks. It’s just that everything is a bit hazy.”

“Try to concentrate on memories that don’t cause a problem. Your arrival at home, for example,” Snape recommended.

Harry nodded.

“In fact, everything is quite clear until, I think... My birthday. Until then, everything was going normally.”

Snape groaned at these words. Normally ? What exactly did the boy mean by 'normally'?

“Potter, before you go any further, I must tell you that I paid a little visit to your family. More precisely, I subjected your uncle to Legilimency. Understand from this that there is nothing of how your family acted 'normally' with you that Professor Dumbledore and I are unaware,” he said dryly.

Harry felt himself flush violently Very well, after all, he'd been wrong, things could get even more embarrassing.

“They aren’t... Well...things were complicated this summer, with Marge's accident, and Dudley's problems, and Uncle Vernon had health problems too...”

“Which didn’t seem to bother him when it was a matter of inflicting you with a punishment more suited to a champion fighter, so it seemed to me,” Snape said ironically.

He regretted his sarcasm immediately when he saw the boy’s face crumple. If he was to watch over Harry, he was going to have to begin by not hurting him every time he spoke to him.

“Potter,” he said more gently, “we will talk more about that later. For the moment, focus on your memories.”

Haryr shrugged and continued, avoiding looking at the two men.

“No matter... nothing special happened before... Marge’s death. Uncle Vernon was furious, he thought I had... well, yes... that it was my fault. And he...”

The boy swallowed with difficulty. Snape was tempted to tell him that they already knew, that it wasn't necessary for him to tell them, but the boy needed to say it... even if it was difficult.

"He got angry, he hit me. Hard. For a long time. After that, I don’t remember very well... I remember that he told me to leave, that I didn’t live there anymore. I thought about the wards... but, I don’t know... I wasn't really thinking. It was....hazy.”

He glanced apologetically at the two men before staring down at the floor once again.

“It doesn’t matter, Harry. You have good reason not to remember that night precisely but please continue. It is very important.”

The teenager took a deep breath.

“After that, I just remember having looked at the window, having wished I could escape that way. There are bars, you see, so...oh. Yes, you know that already. Well whatever, I think I really did get out that way... I know it’s unbelievebale, but I really think I transformed into a, erm, cat.”

He felt even more stupid saying it than remembering it, but the look on Dumbledore's face reassured him.

“We believe you, Harry. What we want to know is how it could have happened. Do you have any idea ?”

Harry shook his head.

“No... I wasn’t trying to do it, not really, it was just...what I had to do, and I could do it. After that, I don’t remember... Just that something really wanted to take me somewhere else, it was as though I was floating. In the end, I saw a big house in the distance, and I realised I was walking. On all fours, I mean, finally as a cat. One of the front paws really hurt, it hurt to walk, but I felt light and eventually I got there. After that, I saw Professor Snape come out of the house, but I didn’t really recognise him. And, um...”

Harry felt himself blush again. And then ? Snape had picked him up ?

Dumbledore saved him by tactfully changing the subject

“Did you decide to try to find Professor Snape, Harry ?”

“No !” he cried before catching himself, with an apologetic look for the professor, “I mean, I didn’t even know where you lived, Professor. I wasn’t really thinking. I don’t think I was really thinking of anything at that moment, except saving myself.”

He was astonished when the Potions master didn’t retort that Harry never thought about anything anyway, but Snape contented himself with a pensive nod of his head..

Evidently, he'd thought he'd heard a voice in his head, telling him to go to that place. But it'd felt more like an internal voice, nothing like the visions that Voldemort sent him or the Imperius curse. Still...his eyes sought out his wrist. Yes, it was indeed there, so strange and yet so familiar.

“But there was something unusual , that night ! I put on the bracelet that Hermione sent me!” he said, brandishing the object. “From what her letter said, it was supposed to lead me to someone who could help me !”

“Which it did, my child, more effectively that anyone could have imagined ! Do not forget to thank that remarkable young woman, Harry. She probably saved your life.”

Stunned, Harry looked at the bracelet. So he had been in real danger that night. From his uncle, of course, but he had also been aware of that other presence, dark and menacing...

He suddenly felt very tired.

“Harry ?” called a serious voice. Worried, it seemed to him. Far away. “Is everything all right ?”

He felt the silhouette of the man in black move swiftly towards him, but his sight had suddenly become more blurred. His thoughts too...

Brutally, the pain returned, much more intense. With a cry, he brought his hands up to his scar, throwing his head back.

A voice...red eyes... Voldemort was happy. No, excited.

“Potter !” The eyes stared at him intently, piercing his scull, triumphant. “Oh Potter, how I have missed you !” He could feel the demented laugh and the hate wash over him in waves of pure suffering, while he tried to tear away the scar from which they were coming.

For a moment that felt like an eternity, there was nothing but the laugh and the eyes, his scar... He was aware of a voice from far away, but it didn’t belong to this world.

Then suddenly, a word, a voice broke through and he understood it.

“Shadow ! Become Shadow again ! Now !”

He felt a firm hand on the back of his neck and he knew that he should listen. Even if the words didn’t mean anything, they signified safety, an end to the pain...

A moment later, the eyes disappeared and the world reappeared. Not exactly the same world, though, it was the same room and he knew there were two other people there, but nothing was the same.

He tried to move and felt the warmth of a body against him. A familiar smell...black cloth, a grip that protected him from the world.

Shadow...he was a cat once again and he was in Snape’s arms, held so firmly against him as he struggled to catch his breath.

If he had been in human form, he would have without a doubt blushed to the tips of his ears. But he was Shadow...

Without thinking anymore, he pushed his nose into the hollow of the man’s arms and, finally safe, succumbed to sleep.

Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, the two men left the room and returned to the sitting room.

The cat firmly wedged in his arms, Snape sat by the fireplace. Shadow liked the heat.

Snape knew he wouldn't have been able tolerate seeing the cat suffer, but Potter...no, Harry. He had not expected the pang in his chest when the boy had cried out with his hands pressed to his forehead, before collapsing onto the bed.

Snape had thought for a moment that nothing would work, that he wasn’t' going to be able to hear them calling, and then Snape had let the name slip out... and Potter, for it really was about Harry this time , aware that it was Snape, had responded. He had transformed, thus cutting off the connection with the Dark Lord.

He hadn’t realised that he had grabbed the cat, at the risk of being scratched, but he was almost certain of what he'd seen when Harry had finally regained his awareness... It was definitely Harry who'd had that gleam in his eyes before finally losing consciousness.

Snape sighed. At least he was sleeping peacefully at the moment. The day had been emotional enough, and thank Merlin he had been able to get the cat to eat before Voldemort decided to pay a courtesy call.

“We are, at least, clear on one point,” Snape said calmly. “The Dark Lord is aware that Harry is alive.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Which is a good thing, in that he will not seek to spread the rumour of his death to the public...but this is what makes Harry’s situation very perilous.”

Snape pondered. Yes, it was... The wards had definitely been destroyed and Voldemort knew it. They were going to have to be doubly cautious. He didn't doubt that the Dark Mark woud call him before the end of the day, and they had to come up with a good story to offer the Dark Lord. Nothing that would truly satisfy him, of course...If he were to learn that he had known where Potter was, things would become seriously complicated.

Dumbledore could not help but be touched as he looked at the professor and the cat. Severus had grabbed Harry as soon as he'd transformed and had kept him in a firm embrace, as though to protect him from any external attack...which was probably the case.

For now, the cat was asleep on his chest, his nose tucked into the robes, all his muscles relaxed. The professor absent-mindedly stroked his fur, his worried expression directedinto the flames of the fire. He had forgotten the headmaster’s presence, all his thoughts occupied by the cat he had named Shadow.

The cat he had saved and to which he had become attached, the boy whose distastrous family life he had unexpectedly learnt of that very day.

“Are you angry with me, Severus ?” asked Dumbledore suddenly.

The professor raised his head, surprised.

“Angry at you ? About Potter ?”

Dumbledore nodded.

Snape wasn’t sure he understood the question, but he was suddenly sure of the answer.

Yes, he was angry with him. Very much so.

But at that moment his forearm started to burn, and his reply was lost in a groan.

“Take him,” he'd said, handing the sleeping cat to Dumbledore.

But Shadow held fast to him in his sleep and he had to gently remove each claw from the cloth one by one… after which, the cat seemed vaguely aware that something was happening, and tensed his entire body, as he felt himself being handed from one person to another.

Snape gave up. Taking the cat back, he'd murmured a few calming words and put the cat on the armchair, regretting that he did not have the jumper. The exhausted cat soon fell back to sleep.

Dumbledore had an odd look on his face, half-hurt, half-moved, and did not try to pick him up again.

“Be careful, Severus.”

“You should not stay here alone with Potter. Call one of the Order, Moody or Kingsley for a start,” he'd replied, slightly nervous now the moment had arrived.

Dumbledore had nodded, but shot him a trusting look, as he did sometimes and which never failed to both exasperate and comfort him. Actually, these looks and the few words that accompanied them were the only recognition he aspired to at present… The only reward even.

But when would the old man stop being so desperately naive and sure of himself ?

“I trust you, my boy.”

Severus himself didn’t really share his confidence, but had neither the will nor the time to discuss it.

Grabbing his bag of potions, he threw a handful of powder into the fireplace and refused to think about how little the satchel weighed….

“Malfoy Manor.”

The atmosphere at the manor was markedly different from his last visits.

The faces he passed on his way were closed, piercing him with curiosity, and excitement had replaced nervousness.

Actually, the atmosphere at the manor was electrified and seemed to grow moreso the closer he got to the Dark Lord.

He felt a familiar calm come over him. He had been in this position before and had survived. He would face him as always, with his head held high and all his mental barriers raised. No matter what happened.

Coming to a stop in front of the Master of the Death Eaters, he bowed deeply. The first few minutes would quickly reveal for him the tone of the meeting…

“Severus…” hissed the Dark Lord’s voice.

“My Lord…” murmured Snape.

The dead-yet-alive wizard observed his spy whilst drumming his fingertips on the armchair, a dangerous smile on his lips.

“I am disappointed, Severus. Your services leave something to be desired,” he drawled.

Off to a bad start, thought Snape. But then, what had he expected?

“Master, be assured I have done my best, but Dumbledore and the Order don’t trust me,” he said defensively in his humblest voice.

“Incompetence is no excuse. There are no limits to the old codger’s naivety; that he has no confidence in you only confirms my opionion. I was wrong about you...”

Snape couldn't help but trembe.

“When I generously agreed to forgive you and take you back into my service, Death Eater, it was solely due to your status and skill as a potions master and spy. It certainly wasn’t because of your wavering loyalty…” Voldemort arose and approached the spy, who fell to his knees.

“My Lord, my loyalty belongs only to you. My only ambition is to serve you to the best of my ability, but Dumbledore has become particularly distrustful since Potter’s disappearance,” he hastened to plead.

But Voldemort didn't seem to be listening.

“Your skills, then. Your intelligence. Your cunning. Your duplicity. All the qualities that make a good Slytherin…”

“Thank you, Master,” murmured the Potions master, not so stupid as to draw hope from the comment.

“The potions you have delivered to me recently, Severus, have turned out to be particularly weak. How do you explain this?” asked the Dark Lord coldly.

“I’m not exactly sure,my Lord. I thought them as strong as possible, but fatigue could have caused me to make small errors in dosage; the brewing of them is especially complex,” replied Snape.

“And I assume it is the search for young Harry that has exhausted you to such an extent...”

Snape heard sniggering behind his back. So, the Death Eaters were aware of Potter’s reappearance.

“Yes, my Lord,” the Potions Master dared to say. “It seemed to me that this mission was a priority.”

“And sufficiently demanding that it induced the most sought after Potions master in the country to produce potions of such mediocre quality?” Voldemort let out a, 'Sss, Sss', a bad omen.

“Forgive me, my Lord. I will not disappoint you again.”

Snape concentrated on strengthening all his mental barriers. The situation was critical; Voldemort could decide in an instant that he no longer needed his services and unleash an Unforgivable Curse that would render him incapable of spying... and protecting Harry.

Deliberately formulating the Dark Lord’s potions to render them as ineffective as possible had been a serious strategic error...

“Really, Severus? Well then, let’s see the new delivery,” said the wizard scathingly.

Snape froze. This was going from bad to worse.

“My Lord, I beg your forgiveness, it is inexcusable... I have not been able to prepare the potions you asked of me. However, I have been able to obtain some information about Potter, at the expense of my time.” This wasn't going to work and he knew it, but he had nothing better to offer.

“Something I don’t know, Severus? I doubt that very much. A Potions master with no potions... a spy with no information... tell me, Death Eater, why should I keep you in my service? Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”

“Potter is alive,” Snape was quick to say. “Dumbledore announced it to the Order this morning. I do not know the circumstances in which was found nor where he is at the moment, but he is apparently in a bad way. The headmaster asked me for numerous potions to get him back on his feet, but I don’t think they had the desired effect; they were probably too weak, my Lord.”

“Continue,” said the wizard dryly, his cadaver-like face fixed on Snape’s eyes, searching his face.

“Dumbledore asked me to interrogate Potter’s Muggle family, to subject them to Legilimency. I was thus able to ascertain that his uncle had beat him violently, leaving him unconscious in his bedroom the evening of his disappearance. From what I could learn, Potter must have sustained numerous injuries, as well as several fractures. He appeared very weak and despondent, even before his uncle’s punishment.

“Upon my return, Dumbledore asked me for more potions, more specific this time, in order to treat the boy. He did not know the cause of the injuries before my intervention. He refused to let me see the boy, but I know that no mediwizard was authorised to be at his bedside... From what I could see, only Dumbledore is caring for the boy and knows his hiding place. However, he asked me not to leave the house and to prepare potions there for Potter. I doubt he was there, though, the old fool Apparated each time he went to him. Only seeing my Mark, at your call, Master, was able to convince him to let me go.”

Having finished his account, he lowered his head again in a gesture of submission, awaiting the verdict. His story was credible, his defences had held, at least, he hoped they had. But he doubted it would be enough to assuage the Dark Lord’s dissatisfaction.

The heavy silence which followed his report seemed to last for hours. Then Voldemort’s voice put an end to his wait.

“ Crucio.”

As he collapsed to the floor, trying to hold back his cries of pain, Snape heard the voice calmly follow after him :

“I don’t believe you. You’re hiding something from me.”

And, as if to add weight to his words his words, Voldemort maintained the curse until the Potion’s master finally lost consciousness.

Severus pulled himself up on his elbows, all of his nerves afire. His vision was blurred and he wasn't sure he could speak, but after a few attempts, he managed to say :

“For you... my Lord....always loyal.... I swear it.... on my soul...” he gasped.

“What soul, Severus?” replied the Dark Lord softly. “I think you sold it a very long time ago...”

Snape didn't think any differently. It was an oath that meant nothing, but what else could he've sworn on? What was left? No one, nothing. Exactly what he had left to lose.

“To serve you... is my only reason for living. My life belongs to you...”

“That's a fact,” replied Voldemort. “But it’s not enough. Crucio.”

A few moments later, a black, blessed veil covered the professor’s mind as he slipped once again into unconsciousness.

“Help him! Help him, do something!” shouted the boy.

Dumbledore grabbed his shoulder in an effort to calm him.

“Harry, please, calm yourself. There is nothing we can do.”

“But he’s torturing him! Snape! He’s in a really bad way, I’ve seen it, he can’t last much longer. You’ve got to do something!” exclaimed Harry indignantly, his right hand scratching at his forehead.

Without the headmaster knowing how, the boy had finally woken up in human form, before starting to scream as a new vision hit him. Voldemort... and Severus. His heart constricted.

“Harry, Professor Snape knows what he’s doing. He went there of his own accord, fully aware of the risks,” the headmaster stated firmly. “I am sure he will return soon, in a better shape than you think. The professor has a great ability to rise above the... moodiness of his master.”

“No, you don’t understand, Voldemort thinks he’s betrayed him, he thinks that he deliberately made the potions too weak and that he isn't telling him everything he knows about me. He’s killing him!” shouted the feverish boy, still trembling from the connection that had just tied him to the Dark Lord.

“I saw it!”

Dumbledore froze painfully at his words.

Voldemort knew...Merlin protect them. And Severus was there...

“Harry, listen to me, are you sure Voldemort is convinced of Professor Snape's betrayal? Has he accused him of being a spy?”

The boy hesitated.

“No, not in so many words, he said Snape was of no use if his potions weren’t strong enough and if he had no interesting information. He asked him to give him a good reason for letting him live.”

Dumbledore sighed. It was bad, but not as bad as he’d feared. Tom Riddle was undoubtedly too arrogant to imagine for an instant that he was being double-crossed by his spy. He had accused him of incompetence and cowardice, but not yet of treason. Severus could still get away with it.

“Are you going to send someone?” asked Harry, his eyes full of hope.

“No,” replied Dumbledore calmly.

At this, Harry leapt off the chair, grabbed the first object that came to hand and threw it to break against the wall.

“You can’t leave it at that and do nothing !” he shouted. “He....he...”

“Harry,” the old wizard said gently, “you have to understand... it would be too dangerous to send reinforcements just now. Voldemort would already have killed Professor Snape if he really thought he was a spy, which he would do instantly on seeing the Order come to the rescue.”

The boy clenched his teeth, pale with rage.

“He doesn’t want to kill him like that... he wants to make him suffer, so that he’ll tell him everything he knows...”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Believe me, Harry, Voldemort would have killed him on the spot, information or no. Not only as a point of honor, but out of rage. Professor Snape is the best Occlumens I have ever met, and an excellent spy. He’ll know how to get out of this fix. Please, my boy, trust me.”

Harry searched his face for a long time and reluctantly nodded his head.

“He, you know, he…” The boy took a deep breath. “He took care of me. When I was a cat, when I didn’t know, he was amazing. It was as though nothing could happen to me while he was there… and now… this is because of me. It’ll be my fault if he dies.”

He swallowed with difficulty. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to say all that. But Dumbledore was Dumbledore, wasn’t he? He had to understand, he had to do something.

“Oh, Harry,” said the headmaster with a sigh. “I’m truly sorry. For not having been able to prevent all this, for not being able to do more right now than ask you to trust me. Believe me, Harry, when I say that Professor Snape would be mortified if he thought you believed that he'd not willingly made his decision, with full knowledge of the risks. Do not underestimate him, Harry; that would not honor him…”

Harry would've liked to explain that Snape, of all people, couldn’t die, not now, and certainly not like that. But he could find neither the strength nor the words and a moment later he ran across the room, which had suddenly become larger…

No, he had become smaller. He jumped on the table, his tail whipping in the air. In this form, he felt more alive, more agile. He leapt onto the sideboard, then to a chair, scratching the fabric with his claws as he went.

When he'd galloped round the room several times, he finally felt better. His Man in Black would come back, he had to. He trusted him. And he could, once again, snuggle up against his shoulder while the man recovered from his injuries.

For the moment, his own injuries hurt, but it was good to feel them. It made him feel closer to the professor, and in a way, it was almost a talisman, wasn’t it? Snape would have to come back to care for him.

Yes, he would come back. And he would never let him go again, if he could help it.

“I am disappointed, Severus. Extremely disappointed.”

Snape let out a sigh. Why did it have to be that his two so-called masters persisted in calling him by his first name, but with such different results?

He bent his back a little more. He no longer had the strength to talk. Two days of torture and interrogation without respite had succeeded in sapping all of his strength. It was better in any case to await the verdict, he had done his best, he had let nothing slip. He would have no regrets if it wasn’t…. no, no regrets.

“I am finally beginning to believe that you are really as stupid and inefficient as you claim to be.” The Dark Lord actually sounded disappointed. “As time passes, you seem to lack courage... How old are you, Death Eater? Thirty-seven? Aren’t you a little young to be such a coward already?”

Snape flinched. If there was one insult he could not tolerate, it was that one! But what did it matter, really? All the better if he believed that; cowardce was less dangerous than treason when faced with the Dark Lord. Wasn't Wormtail the best example of this?

“I will do better, Master... to serve you…” he managed to croak. He would have willingly given up ten years of his life for a glass of water. Though of course, it was highly unlikely that he'd manage such a bargain, in any case...

“That would be better for you, Severus. Much better. You don’t want to see this little scene repeated, do you? Or even worse, to fail me in a more permanent manner…”

Past the point of intimidation, the Potions master felt hope again.

“No, my Lord. Never.”

“You will return there. Make the potions again, good ones this time. You will get back into Dumbledore’s good graces, whatever the cost, and bring me the information I requested. Where is he hiding the child, why did I lose touch with him for several weeks. I will not accept any further failure, Severus. Is that clear?” hissed Voldemort.

“Yes, Master... thank you…” the professor murmured.

He started when he felt a hand brush through his hair in a familiar gesture. The touch was repugnant and he had to use all over his willpower not to throw it off. Now was not the time to lose his nerve.

“Yes, you may thank me. I am far too lenient with you, Severus… That’s why I’m going to keep an eye on you. A careful eye… The least misstep will be your last. You are quite aware of that, aren't you, loyal Death Eater?” the Dark Lord whispered.

At the end of his strength, Snape could only make an inarticulate sound in reply.

“It would be better for you if your loyalty is never again a subject for discussion. We will all be watchful. Our big family.”

There was some sniggering in response to this declaration. There was no doubt that most of the Death Eaters would be delighted to keep an eye on the Potions master who had long benefited from preferential treatment….

Snape finally felt the dark wizard's presence move away.

“Go home. When I call you next, Severus, your potions will be ready and you will have answers to all my questions. If that is not the case…”

Severus looked up to see the reptilian face break into a smile brimming with menace.

He felt hands lift him up and carry him towards the fireplace. Somone shouted the name of his manor for him, and a moment later he was lying on the floor of his laboratory. The tiles had never felt so comfortable…

Thank Merlin, he was finally home…the fireplace was protected, which meant no one except himself and Dumbledore could come through, and he thought the wards around the Manor were strong enough to withstand any intrusion for a long while.

He was safe.

He hadn’t leaked any information. Potter was not in danger.

He had succeeded. He had survived.

For now.

Two days. Two days since Severus had answered the Dark Lord's{del sp} call and had not returned. Two days during which Harry had been waking up periodically in human form from nightmares of torture.

The boy had lost whatever control he'd been able to have over his transformations. Dumbledore had tried to care for his wounds with the salve the Potions professor had left, but the teenager couldn't tolerate his touch, and had announced that he could care for himself. Given the number of cuts on his back, the headmaster doubted this, but did not have the courage to contradict the boy.

Who had been literally beside himself since his professor's departure.

Transforming from animal to human form generally during his sleep, he was nervous and irritable, unable to understand the Order’s lethargy. When the visions from Voldemort overcame him, he refused to hide from them by transforming : but these visions sent him into a state of rage and frustration, leading to an involuntary return to his cat form.

His rage had only been magnified tenfold and the sitting room at Grimmauld Place now looked like a vast battlefield : precious objects and paintings lay on the floor, the furniture bore signs of scratches and the tapestry hung in shreds.

On the evening of the second day, Dumbledore came to a decision. They couldn't afford to wait any longer… By all accounts, things had gone very badly at Malfoy Manor, and Severus wasn't going to be able to get out of it alone this time.

He'd got it into his head that if something permanent happened to the Potions professor, Harry would never forgive him... and he himself would find it hard to sleep well again if he committed yet another error of judgement with regard to the Potions master.

Severus had long ago atoned for his mistakes and he could not help but feel a growing sense of guilt for having him risk his life yet again.

Alastor and Kingsley took turns keeping company to ensure the safety of Grimmauld Place, while Tonks had chosen to stay at the Weasleys. If Voldemort decided to search actively for Harry, he would without a doubt start with the Burrow.

But nothing arrived to threaten the two houses and it was now time to change strategy.

“Albus, everyone’s here.”

The wizard nodded and rejoined the Order members in the lounge, leaving the cat asleep in the room that had been Sirius’s.

In the sitting room, the central core of the Order of the Phoenix was waiting for him. The atmosphere was strained, the tension around the table palpable.

“Snape’s been found out, eh?” said Moody.

Several groans sounded from around the table, and all eyes turned towards Dumbledore. Misty with guilt , he realized.

“I fear that the last Death Eater meeting indeed went badly. It would seem that Voldemort has strong suspicsions about his spy’s loyalty and at the very least, is accusing him of concealing information. Harry’s visions have allowed us to establish that he is still alive, but has been subjected to torture and is in a bad way. I have waited as long as possible, but I fear that we can no longer hope that Severus will be able to return safe and sound.”

Faces tensed with worry, but avoiding looking at each other. After having questioned the Potions master’s loyalty on so many occasions, and openly making sure that he knew this, the situation was at the least embarrassing.

“Do we know where he is?” Tonks asked softly.

“Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort has set up his headquarters.”

A group of distraught expressions answered this declaration. That didn’t help the situation.

“In order words, if we want to get Snape back, we’re going to have to get past the nutters and his little friends,” Moody summarised.

“Indeed, Voldemort is in residence there at the moment and the wards are optimal. It comes down to considering our options, but it is clear that a frontal attack would be too risky.”

“It’s not just risky, Albus, it's suicidal. We have no chance of successfully getting him out of there alive, if he even still is...” Kingsley said.

“He is,” replied a voice from the other side of the room.

Everyone jumped. Engrossed in the conversation, they hadn't noticed Harry slip discreetly through the open door.

“I saw him an hour ago. You can’t leave him there... he’s really weak and Voldemort’s not giving him any time to recover. After everything he’s done for us, you can’t just decide it’s too risky and leave him to die there! That'd mean we're no better than they are!” the boy almost shouted.

He trembled slightly, looking at the faces around the table. He could see guilt there, pity too and a dilemma.

To save Snape, risk it all out... it wasn’t just about the spy, they all knew that. It was, above all, about them and the way they wanted to conduct the war.

“Snape knew what was at stake. He sacrificed himself for us and we'll remember that, but I’m convinced he wouldn’t have wanted us to risk more lives to save him,” Moody said, staring Harry straight in the eyes.

But it wasn’t the boy who answered, it was the people around him at the table.

“It's out of the question to leave Severus there!” exclaimed Molly Weasley indignantly.

“I'll never lie down to sleep again with a clear conscience if we didn’t try to save him,” Tonks added.

“He has never hesitated to put his life on the line, and more than his life to save Harry. We owe him a debt,” interjected Arthur Weasley.

The hubbub of protests continued, finally easing the tension in the little group.

Looking up from the table, Dumbledore met Harry’s eyes, calm and confident for now. For a few short moments, they smiled at each other, and it seemed to the headmaster that in the end, hope and trust were indeed the best things he could give to the boy.

If Severus died today, Harry would be devastated. But he would continue to have faith...

“We need to think about this, Albus” said Moody, his voice rising above the others. “We can’t rush blindly in and expect to get out alive. Idea of a plan?”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but something caught his attention and he stood abruptly from his chair, under the questioning looks of the Order.

“Albus?”

“It would seem that, in the end, we don’t need to rush to our Potions master's rescue. The alarms have just this minute informed me that he has returned to Snape Manor.”

Cries of relief and surprise brok out, and Harry was at his side in an instant.

“Professor! We need to get there! Quickly!”

“Yes, Harry, I'm well aware of that. I'm asking all of you to remain here in my absence to watch over Harry. I will return as quickly as possible with Severus, if his condition allows,” Dumbledore said as he threw a few potions into a bag.

“Are you sure, Albus? He might not be alone!” grunted Moody.

“It will be fine, the Manor is protected against all entry by anyone except me and the owner. Harry, promise me you will stay here until I return and not attempt anything dangerous!” Dumbledore insisted, his piercing eyes searching the boy’s.

“Take me with you,” replied the boy in a voice both calm and firm, surprising the wizard.

“Impossible, my boy, Professor Snape will need taking care of and I risk not being able to look out for you both if something should...”

“Take me with you, they won’t know anything. Trust me. Please.” His pleading green eyes riveted on the headmaster’s, Harry transformed into a cat before he was able to reply.

A collective exclamation of surprise greeted this performance, but Dumbledore ignored it. He didn’t have the time to discuss any longer. The boy was right, his cat form would hide him...

The day had been truly unique, he mused. Each of them had had their say... and much had been played out as they answered each other's questions. If he had to ask the boy to trust him blindly, then he had to accord him the same consideration when circumstance demanded it. And the look on the boy's face told him that this was one of those moments.

He nodded.

“Very well.”

The voices got louder, but again, he paid them no attention.

“I would ask you nonetheless to remain here,” he said, addressing the Order members who stared at him nervously. ”It could happen that I'll have need of you quickly. As I said, I'll try to return with Severus...and Harry as quickly as I can. However, I doubt that Severus can be moved right now.”

With a nod at Harry, he went to the fireplace and announced his destination. Relieved, the cat leapt into the green flames, followed immediately by the headmaster.

Merlin, let this be the right decision, he thought as he took his place in the hearth. Because this was one of those choices that could have serious consequences.

A moment later, he almost stumbled over the body of his spy. Severus had never looked particularly healthy, no Potions master had, but his deathly pale and tortured face was positively frightening.

He quickly bent over to take the man’s pulse : his heart was beating, weakly, but it was beating. His breathing, however, was much too fragile ; he quickly grabbed a potion from his pocket and forced it between the professor’s lips. The man let out an almost inaudible groan, as the headmaster massaged his throat to aid the liquid to be swallowed.

“Severus, can you hear me?” he asked

But there was no sign that the man had heard him.

Dumbledore quickly transfigured the armchair into a bed and delicately settled the still body of the Potions master on it. He hastily scanned the laboratory and assembled a collection of vials on the table. He nodded after he'd rapidly smelt them; these were exactly the ones he needed. It would seem that the professor had anticipated that his return would be painful...

Dumbledore sighed. This foresight of Severus' hinted of something fatalistic that suddenly made him infinitely sad.

He turned back to the bed where Snape was lying and froze at the sight before him.

Harry, in cat form, had jumped on the bed and was curled up against the Potions master’s shoulder.

Severus' face still reflected his intense suffering, but his features had relaxed and his face was slightly turned towards the cat purring next to him, trying to give him all its warmth and comfort.

At that moment, Dumbledore knew that Severus was going to survive.

That they were all going to survive.

It took a day for Snape to completely regain consciousness and have enough energy to open his eyes.  In the safety of the dungeons and under Dumbledore’s watchful eye, he'd  finally been able to lower his guard fully and let  himself  sink into a healing sleep. As {sp} healing and wholesome as it was, waking up was no less  difficult...

The first thing he saw when he managed to get rid of the fog in his head was a cat curled up in a ball against his shoulder. No, not a cat, THE cat.

Shadow-Potter, ensconced there like an old house cat who had done so all its life. He didn’t know whether to snigger or feel annoyed at this intrusion into his life and, good god, his bed, but he had to admit that the feeling was not entirely disagreeable.

He tried to sit up and let out a groan. The room spun around him... how long had it been since he'd felt this ill ? Images of the previous days played in his memory. Voldemort, Cruciatus, the interrogation... Very well, he had the right to feel a bit under the weather. He let himself fell heavily back onto the pillow.

Under the weather, nice euphemism, he mused as he felt all his muscles waking up and acute pain with them. He wasn’t going to be able to stay conscious much longer if his whole body decided to remind him how allergic he was to the Cruciatus... If only he could just...

“Severus?”

The calm voice made him jump. He opened his eyes again to see Dumbledore’s face leaning over him. Worry and relief were mixed in his gaze... It made Snape feel strangely glad.

“How do you feel?” asked the old man.

“I'm all right. He doesn’t know,” the Potions master managed to articulate. His vocal chords protested vigorously; it occurred to him that he must've used them more than was reasonable recently...

“I know, my child, I never doubted it. How are you?” the wizard asked again.

Snape made an irritated gesture. Did he look like he was ready to dance at the Yule ball? There was indeed something he needed to do, but he felt himself weakening bit by bit.

“Albus...fireplace...cupboard...” he tried to explain to the headmaster with a glance towards the wooden door he wanted opened.

Without a word, the headmaster went to the cupboard and opened it, before turning back to the Potions master.

“At the top…box…”

Without hesitating, Dumbledore seized the iron box that looked as though it had been there for years. He opened it carefully and took out an assortment of multicoloured potions that he instantly recognised.  It was exactly the same collection of vials that Severus had given him several years before, in an identical box…

He returned quickly to the Potions master, who was fighting to stay awake. Without delay, he opened the first vial and pressed it against the professor’s lips. It was swallowed without a word.

Coughing, struggling not to choke, Severus let the potion run down his throat and enter his bloodstream... Thank Merlin, he’d kept the box intact for all these years, in readiness of the day when he would have to use it. Four potions, of which the preparation was lengthy and complicated, for which the formulation was practically unknown… one he had carefully hidden from the Dark Lord. The means to wake the living dead, and this was exactly what was expected of him, wasn’t it ?

He seized the second potion. The first had given him back his energy; this one was going to reduce the pain.

With a sigh of relief, he felt his muscles and nerves relax. Finally! It felt like ages had passed since the last time his body had been completely without pain.

Without waiting, he opened the third vial. This one was a healing potion, far more effective  than those that Pomfrey got her patients to drink, and one which he himself made for to the Dark Lord.

Without touching the fourth vial, he closed the box and turned to Dumbledore.

“Thank you.” He felt much better now; well enough, in any case, to give the headmaster a detailed report.

Dumbledore nodded.

“That was very far-sighted of you, my boy. I used the potions you left on the table, but their effectivenss turned out to be limited, given the extent of your injuries.”

Snape grimaced. Few obvious injuries, but the effect of the Cruciatus and other curses, combined with severe poisoning… The potions he had prepared for his return had probably been no more useful than a glass of milk.

“This last Death Eater meeting was more…eventful than expected,” he replied soberly.

“Yes, I suppose that that's indeed the least that one  could say. Harry brought us several episodes by way of his visions over the last few days,” said Dumbledore.

The Potions master looked over at the cat that was sitting uncertainly at the other end of the bed.  He should have suspected… If Potter had returned to human form, he would not have been able to avoid the connection with the Dark Lord, whose rage had been particularly intense and prolonged…

He was surprised to feel concern for the boy: had it really been necessary for him to see and feel so much at such an early age?  

“Potter, do you need a potion?” he asked abruptly.

The cat hung its head, but didn’t answer, its gaze still troubled.

“Harry has received the necessary care. His Animagus form enables him to escape the mental connection, but he's still experiencing some difficulty mastering his transformations. It is a problem we will need to take care of quickly.”

Snape nodded pensively. Where was the boy in all of this? To what extent had he been able to assimilate his two forms and the memories that  went with them? And, why the devil was he currently sitting on his bed?

Yes, they were going to have to take care of the problem quickly, but for now he needed to  bring Dumbledore up to date on the situation.

He sat up cautiously and transfigured the bed back into an armchair, before pouring himself a glass of water. The simple fact of being able to stand on his legs and swallow something  seemed like the pinnacle of good health to him ; some days, his job  as potions master  seemed  to have a [] useful yet terribly realisctic side to it...

“We're going to quickly need to find a secure location in which to hide Mr Potter. The Dark Lord is aware of his return and has decided to channel all his efforts to find him before term begins again at Hogwarts,” he stated calmly. “In addition, my position as a Death Eater enjoying a certain amount of freedom has been compromised. My usefulness and loyalty were topics of discussion and I was ordered to very soon produce concrete evidence of my good faith. As well as adequate potions, that goes without saying…

“Severus,” said the headmaster, in a voice that made the professor look at him,  “you  aren’t going back.”

The spy’s face froze as he clenched his glass so tightly that it almost broke in his hand.

“Of course I am,” he replied firmly.

“It is too risky. This last meeting demonstrated the limits of our strategy. You are more use to us alive, Severus…”

“In  light of recent events, we cannot afford  to be ignorant of plots being hatched in the enemy camp. I didn’t play the repentant Death Eater for two days to give up now, Albus, it makes no sense. The next time the Dark Lord calls me, his potions will be ready and I’ll have enough information to be useful to him. In the meantime, I need to  guard my every move when I’m away from the manor. The Death Eaters have been ordered to watch me closely, and it’s exactly this kind of order that every good Death Eater longs for… The chance to bring down  a traitor and so rise up in the ranks.”  Snape smiled darkly.

“It’ll be all right, Albus,” he surprised himself by saying in response to the look on the headmaster's face. “I won’t make the same mistakes again…”

“Those mistakes were inevitable in the circumstances and I am not convinced that they won’t  be so in the future. We will speak again about this later…for the moment, you should rest, Severus,” said Dumbledore.

“After what I’ve just taken? Even if I wanted to, I'd be unable to sleep for a good twelve hours. There are certain things we should talk about in private, but Potter should not remain here, it is not safe,” said the Potions master.

“Harry was keen to follow me when I learnt of your return to the manor. In cat form, of course…which he has mastered wonderfully, I must say, since our arrival here. He's ensconced himself rather familiarly by your side, Severus, but I’m afraid I didn't have the heart to remove him. His presence seemed to bring you calm somehow,” Dumbledore explained.

Snape took a long, thoughtful look at the cat. Really? He shook his head. Shadow had done that before, of course, but that was Shadow….what was Potter after?

“You did well,he said curtly. “I would prefer nonetheless to speak to you in private ; perhaps it would be better if Mr Potter returned to Grimmauld Place.”

“I promised the Order that I would bring both of you back when you were able to travel,” replied Dumbledore. “If you feel well enough now, perhaps we could Apparate ?”

Snape groaned. A meeting with the Order, just the thing to cheer him up. “I suppose there is no way of getting out of it?”

Dumbledore laughed gently. “After you!” he said.

Snape rolled his eyes.”Potter?” The cat looked at him with a tilt of the head, but did not move. “Very well,” said Severus through gritted teeth, “Harry, come here.”

The cat trotted happily towards the Potions master, who took it in his arms before he Apparated with a 'crack!'

Alone in the dungeon, Dumbledore could not help but laugh a bit more loudly than he would have allowed himself in front of the professor.   It had not occurrsed to Snape  for an instant that Harry could have travelled alone by Floo or Apparated with the headmaster…

Their arrival at Grimmauld Place bordered on resembling a diplomatic incident. Severus had barely Apparated into the sitting room when five people leapt up with a shout, their eyes trained on the Potions master and the cat he held in his arms.

The spy's instantaneous reaction was to whip out his wand and use his body to protect the cat, which huddled against him, just as alarmed at the sudden movement around him. In the next instant, a Protego  shielded Snape,  crouched down to ward off any potential curses, and the black cat  firmly sheltered against his chest.

A shocked silence greeted his performance. Everyone was looking at the duo , their mouths hanging open, while the Potions master tried to regain  his composure.

“Splendid,” scowled Snape, standing up and letting go of the cat. “The next time you expect a visitor, would you be so kind as to avoid looking as if you were practicing how to ward off an attack?”

“A bit nervous, Snape?” sniggered Moody.

“No more than any bearer of the Blessed Cat would be,” retorted Snape. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to put considerations of appearance before the safety of your precious Potter ?”

“That’s enough Moody,” Tonks scolded. “I was rather impressed myself, you have amazing reflexes, Severus!”

“Comes with the job, perhaps?” Snape replied ironically, hardly humored by the compliment.

“Potions master or spy? Oh, I suppose in both cases, it'd be best to have quick reaction times...” the young woman said thoughtfully.

“Brilliant conclusion. Harry?” the Potions master asked, looking questioningly at the cat.

A blink of the eyes told him everything was fine.

A second later, Dumbledore arrived, making everyone jump.

“Good, good,” he said, “I see everyone has made it here safely.”

The Potions master scowled in response. “Were you expecting the imminent arrival of Death Eaters? Judging by the reaction of your glorious Order, the place is not secure!”

“Reaction?  Is there something I should know?” asked Dumbledore, his piercing eyes seeking out those of the Order members.

An embarrassed silence was the only response, while the Potions master crossed his arms. The cat, the headmaster observed, remained sitting at his feet, looking just as accusingly at the rest of the Order. It was Arthur Weasley who finally spoke.

“We were a little surprised. We had been waiting an entire day and we didn’t know precisely what to expect when the three of you returned.”

Snape raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oh, that’s enough,” said Molly Weasley with a sigh. “We were truly worried, Severus!”

“Truly?” he responsed sarcastically. “An yet it appears that Potter was not out of Albus' sight. The manor remains secure, Molly, I’m not mad enough to leave the door open to Death Eaters or their master.”

“We were worried about you, Severus,” replied Molly softly. “Harry had such frightening visions about you. We were afraid we’d never see you again… In fact, we were preparing to go and rescue you, or at least  try to, when Albus told us of your return. We did not know what state you’d be in when we saw you again…”

Snape had paled noticeably and all trace of irritation disappeared from his face, replaced by an expression of incredulity.

”Albus?”

Dumbledore nodded to confirm Molly’s words. “It is true. We had not yet managed to put a definite plan in place for your rescue, but we were getting ready to consider the possibilities before us.”

“For Malfoy Manor? Do you realize just how foolish that idea is?” shouted Snape, with what seemed to be anger in his voice. “Even if you had succeeded, my cover would have been blown and I would have lost all usefulness as a result; such a suicidal plan would've been completely pointless! When will you lot stop acting like Gryffindors? This is a war, not a gentlemen’s duel!”

“I told you!”  Moody grumbled triumphantly

.

“We decided, particularly after Harry spoke up, that we could not, under any circumstances, consider losing you, Severus,” Dumbledore stated firmly.

Snape stared dubiously  at the headmaster for a moment before turning to look at  the cat. Pressed against his legs, the cat seemed to be placing a barrier between him and the others, at the same time seeking his protection.

“And who, then, would have protected Potter during your heroic assault? Really, Albus, basing your decisions on the state of mind of an adolescent disturbed enough to think he’s a cat seems excessively dangerous,” said Snape.

“We didn’t need Harry to decide that we had to get you back, Severus,” Molly’s soft voice interruped. “Whatever the case, we are very relieved to get you back in such good shape!”

Snape cleared his throat. The conversation was taking a turn that left him feeling definitely ill at ease….”Thank you, Molly. I am unfortuneatly afraid that this…good shape is only temporary. Albus, if I could have a word with you in private?”

But, again, it was Molly who spoke. “Is there anything we can do, Severus?”

Snape thought for a moment. “No. But Potter must remain in his Animagus form as long as possible. Could you keep an eye on him?”

“Erm….I don't think Harry has actually gained control over his transformations,” said Molly hesitantly.

“Talk to him, try to keep him from losing control over his emotions and keep him awake. For the moment, that’s all we can do. Harry, do you understand?”

The cat blinked uncertainly.

“Albus,” Molly said, “the children are at the Burrow. I would prefer to have them here if that will not disturb you too much. They could also help keep Harry awake...and in his current form.”

“Excellent idea, Molly,” Dumbledore agreed. “I will leave it up to you to get them. We will be in the study on the first floor if you need of us. Are there any more questions?”

When there was no response, the headmaster led the Potions master to the stairs. Snape felt a flicker of hesitation as he met the cat’s worried gaze.

“No nonsense, Potter. I will take care of your injuries shortly. And someone give this cat a bowl of food, for Merlin’s sake, I can’t spend my time forcing nutritional potions down his throat!” he ground out as he went up the stairs, leaving behind a rather annoyed cat.

No, he wouldn’t do anything stupid and he wasn’t a cat with a bottomless pit. He didn’t like that his Man in Blace was leaving, it'd been proven before that no good ever came of that.  Snape, goddamit, Snape…

He switched his tail back and forth, signaling  his irritation. His Snape. After everything the man had endured to save him, he had the right to call him that. Well, perhaps not in front of him, of course, but no one needed to know that, did they?

 At the other end of the room, Mrs Weasley threw a fistful of Floo powder into the fire before putting her head into the green flames.

A moment later, the familiar silhouettes of Ron and Hermione appeared in the sitting room  and Harry felt his heart beat faster. His friends were here, summer could finally start! He heard Mrs Weasley murmur some advice and then the two adolescents moved towards him hesitantly. Wide-eyed, they stopped a moment to look at him, torn between excitement and bemusement.

Harry jumped gracefully onto a chair to bring himself up to their level and turned in a circle before sitting down and miaowing with satisfaction. Hey, they hadn't seen that one coming!

“Harry, that’s great!”  Ron cried.

“Really, Harry, you should be careful, don’t rush anything, these transformations are dangerous, stay as  you are!” said Hermione worriedly, shooting Mrs. Weasly a furtive look.

“Give him a break, Hermione, he’s not an invalid! Incredible, you’ve even kept your scar! But shouldn’t you have marks for your glasses, like McGonagall?” asked Ron.

“You know full well he didn’t have them on at the moment when…well… when he transformed,” replied Hermione carefully.

”Oh,” replied Ron a bit coolly.

“But Harry, you’re injured. Can we do anything? You have several cuts that look serious, especially that one there on your, erm…nose,” Hermione finished, all of a sudden  embarrassed.

Harry shook himself to show them that he was fine and then went off  on a series of jumps around the room to demonstrate his new talents. When he got back to where they were, he could tell that his little show had had an effect. Ron was looking at him with admiration and envy, while Hermione seemed both worried and amused.

“Bloody hell, do you realise what all we could do at Hogwarts? Filch is going to have a fit, you won’t even need your invisibility cloak anymore!”  Ron said enthusiastically.

Hermione, obviously, didn’t see things in quite the same way.

“Oh Harry, really, now’s not the time to mess around! Are you all right? Really all right? We were terribly worried about you,” she scolded.

Harry would've liked to reassure her, explain to her that she had saved his life and tell her how precious her gift had been , but he wasn’t supposed to speak… He leapt onto the chair : he knew what to do. Sitting up on his back legs, he moved his head towards Hermione, miaowing soflty to get her attention. Understanding the message, the girl came near and instinctively reached out her hand, as if to stroke the cat. Before she had the chance to change her mind, the cat had almost jumped onto her hand, rubbing its head and neck against it. She felt a metallic object slide against her fingers…

“The bracelet,” she murmured as she suddenly understood. “That was it, wasn't it?”

Harry nodded. The gesture felt strange for a cat, but he knew she understood him.

“I’m really happy, you know,” she murmured. “I'd never imagined…I thought it might come in handy one day, obviously, but  not so soon and not in that way!” She looked across at the Order members, who were now back in the sitting room  but paying little attention to them. “I assure you I didn’t do anything to make it take you to Professor Snape, you do believe me, don’t you Harry? I would've never wanted that, I really don’t understand how it happened!” she whispered forcefully, her worried eyes fixed on the cat’s.

No, that wasn’t working, Harry told himself. They didn’t understand…Snape had taken care of him, the bracelet had done a good job! Obviously, he couldn’t explain that to them, but it was still clear after what had just happened that they were mistaken about the professor, at least in part.

The cat turned in a circle, upset, then seeing the wounded look on Hermione's face, he realized that she had had misunderstood him. He didn’t want her to hurt her; he would have the chance to explain to them later. He tried hard to put on his most serene expression and gave a friendly butt of his head against the girls’ arm, which was stretched out towards him. A wan smile thanked him.

“Bloody hell, Harry, you must have so much to tell us!” moaned Ron. “It’s really frustrating not to be able to, er, really see you! Are you going to be able to change back soon?”

Harry tilted his head, hoping that the boy would understand his answer: he didn’t know, he wasn’t even sure he could do it…

“Never mind, you’ll tell us at Hogwarts, won’t you? Things’ll be quieter there anyway,” Ron said, looking at Moody, whose magical eye kept rotating towards them. “In the meantime, I have to tell you…Fred and George, do you know what they’ve invented?”

Harry would have preferred to hear about Ginny’s latest inventions, but even if he'd been in his human form, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to say so.

All three of them squeezed into the armchair and Harry let himself enjoy the familiar feeling of well being. His friends, all there together  to tell him the latest news from the Weasley family and  the wizarding world, his world. Feet tucked under, ears perked towards the familiar voices, he let himself enjoy being on holiday. After a few minutes, he could've sworn that cats could smile.

”Sherbet lemon?”  Dumbledore offered.

“Merlin, don’t tell me you always carry them?” groaned Snape.

After more than an hour reporting on the last Death Eater meeting, if it could be called that, and the two days he'd spent at Malfoy Manor, Snape  felt more exhausted than he would've thought, after taking the potions. And he certainly was not in the mood for a sherbet lemon.

Dumbledore laughed softly. “But, Severus, what wizard worth his salt leaves home without sweets or potions?”

Snape rolled his eyes. The comparison was outrageous! “Whatever, Albus, this does not solve our main problem. Where do you intend to hide Potter?  But perhaps it would be better if I don’t know, it might be too risky,” said the Potions master.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied Dumbledore. “No one has proven to be more trustworthy than you have, Severus, when it comes to Harry, even without taking into account your immunity to Veritaserum.”

“An immunity gained at the expense of a splendid intoxication every time the Dark Lord feels it useful to administer it to me. If he didn’t insist on combining sessions of Cruciatus with his interrogations, my cover would have been blown long ago. It’s a miracle no one has noticed yet,” replied Snape.

“As always, your remarkable talent for dissembling saves lives.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” Snape said with a half-smile.

Dumbledore smiled in return.

“Severus, are you really sure you want to continue with this?” he asked, “You really are too precious to us as an Order member and potions master; your position as spy is only one of the many services you perform for us, and lately that has become very precarious.”

Snape sighed. “I must. We have already discussed this, no one else is in a position to report this information and we cannot do without it, not now. In spite of my recent disgrace, I remain part of the inner circle closest to the Dark Lord, in the best position, should it be necessary, to act from the inside.”

“Must I tell you again that you have my full trust?” asked Dumbledore calmly.

Snap frowned and waved aside the declaration. He really felt tired now…

“You should have been their Secret Keeper, Severus. None of this would have ever happened,” said the headmaster in a low voice.

The Potions master jumped. “What are you talking about?”

“You understood perfectly. The Potters should have chosen you to protect them, when they went into hiding to protect Harry. More loyal than Pettigrew, obviously, but I suspect you would have defended their secret more ferociously even than Sirius,” replied Dumbledore.

Snape looked away. “That’s ridiculous. Their choice was unfortunate, but Black would never have given away the Potters, even under torture… That blasted Gryffindor had too much honour for that,” he said, much more awake now.

“Perhaps not under torture, no. Nor under Veritaserum, it would seem. But under pressure, emotional blackmail, hallucinations? How long would it have taken until he let slip his secret? But that would not have been the case with you, Severus, even if it hadn’t been Lily’s life at stake. You would not have succumbed to torture nor any curse, as you have proved to us over the last few days, and no illusion or attempt at emotional extortion would have been able to sway you. Your Slytherin spirit immunises you against manipulations that would've had every good Gryffindor giving in from the start.”

This time, the Potions master laughed softly, thinking about the rescue plan the Order had plotted for him. Stupid sentimentality and chivalrous bravado that had no place in this war…

“That is why I see no one in a better position than you to take care of Harry for the rest of the holidays,” concluded Dumbledore.

Snape literally jumped out of his chair. “You’re joking. Have you lost your mind? It's out of the question, you hear! It’s utter madness!”

‘It is,’ mused Dumbledore, and not ‘it would be’…

“Voldemort would never think of looking for Harry at your house, Professor, he is far too convinced of your hatred for the boy. What's more, your manor is solidly protected by your wards and I would, of course, be your Secret Keeper. Such an arrangement would only be temporary as term starts at Hogwarts in two weeks time.

“I am sorry to impose this task and particular burden on you, Severus, especially in your current condition. But I have pondered this dilemma long and hard, and I see no other solution even remotely as sure that would keep Harry safe. You would be doing me an enormous favour, my boy. In addition, I have no doubt that should things take a turn for the worse, you would be the most able to defend Harry. He trusts you completely, he will listen to you.”

“You don’t understand,” grumbled Snape, troubled. “Potter only trusts me because he thinks he’s a cat, a cat that I have cared for and taken in, but it won’t last. When he has properly processed recent events, Potter  will fight tooth and nail against me, my rules and every word I say to him. And, believe me, it’s a subject in which he is particularly talented.”

Dumbledore smiled.

“I am not sure Harry is as confused about his different forms and…experience with you as you think he is. He is an intelligent boy, and a Gryffindor to the tips of his toes, or perhaps I should say claws… He knows better than anyone what he owes you after his visions, and he was the first to demand that we mount an expedition to save you. His speech would certainly have given you a migraine, my dear boy, he made us all out to be worthy heirs of Slytherin!”

Snape groaned. “Honestly, Albus, can’t you see that we're heading for disaster? Potter  needs to be in a familiar environment, like this house, and he'll need help to learn to control his transformations,” he pleaded.

“Exactly,” replied Dumbledore calmly. “Harry will never feel comfortable here. This place reminds him too much of Sirius and his absence. As for the assistance he will need, I am sure that you are more than able to give this to him.”

“If the boy listened to my advice, it would show in his Potions marks! I was thinking of Minerva, Albus, who is the most appropriate to instruct him in the subject of Animagus tranformations!” argued Snape, sensing that defeat was in the offing.

“Minerva will have plenty of time to see to Harry at Hogwarts,” replied Dumbledore firmly. “I know I am asking a lot of you, Severus, yet again… but you are the only person I trust to keep Harry safe and I know I am not the only one to think so.”

Snape snorted again. “Really? I still doubt that your beloved Order will willingly accept your decision, Albus.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Don’t you believe it, I think this arrangement will meet no objections. But, in reality, it was not of them I was thinking.”

The Potions master looked questioningly at him.

“I returned to the Dursleys' : I wanted to feel for myself the traces of magic you told me about. You were right, Severus, it was  there, it is  still there in fact…”

Snape straightened in his chair, all his attention focused on the old wizard. “Were you able to make anything out of it?” he asked.

“Some impressions, at the most. But one thing for certain, at the least. I identified the magical signature from which the magic came. You yourself would have recognised it, Severus, if it hadn’t been so similar to Harry’s.”

The Potions master felt a lump rise in his throat.

Dumbledore nodded when he saw the look on his face.

“Yes, it was indeed Lily’s. I was also able to detect, though much more faintly, those of James Potter and Sirius.”

“That’s….that’s impossible!” croaked Severus, paler than ever.

“Indeed it should be,” replied Dumbledore. “I have done some research…though I haven’t had much time, of course, and my ideas on the matter are but supposition. Even though I doubt it is possible to find any more evidence on the subject, in any case…” Faced with the impatient Potions master, he continued, “I think that the origin of recent events lies with Sirius’s death or, more precisely, his passage through the Veil.”

“The infamous Veil…what is it for, exactly?” asked the Potions master, who seemed  to have suddenly aged several years.

“It is both complex and vast, the extent of its powers remains unknown. But it definitely allows passage between the two worlds, in certain circumstances… This is why it is kept under guard at the Ministry of Magic. Its use is completely uncontrollable, but its powers are too great to risk it being used ill-advisedly,” replied the headmaster.

“But Lily and James? They had nothing to do with the Veil,” argued Snape.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed. “But Sirius, Lily and James had their very deep emotional bond with Harry in common. We are entering the realm of hypothoses here, but without a doubt extraordinary circumstances, extraordinary bonds that allowed the only people who loved Harry as parents to offer him what they never had the opportunity to give him : his heritage.”

Snape was silent for a long time, comtemplating the headmaster’s revelations. A picture came to mind…

“Albus,” he said flatly, “the day I myself visited the Dursleys and after having… disciplined that odious pig who masquerades as the boy’s uncle, I had a brief vision of Lily and James at the moment I Apparated. I thought I had dreamt it, but only so far as Lily… No, I cannot believe I could have imagined James’s image in such circumstances. Do you think that…?” He could not finish the sentence.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. “One thing is certain, my boy. A very powerful and ancient magic was manifested the night Harry turned sixteen. It would appear that from this he acquired the ability to transform into an animal, like his father and godfather before him, thanks to a combination of their magic and their love. They wanted to protect Harry, at any cost…  Just after this, Miss Granger’s bracelet transported the boy hundreds of miles away, far beyond its normal capacity. I have no other explantion for this phenomenon than that same magic. And the magic was guided by Lily, Severus. It is her power which catalysed the magic of  James and Sirius. The bracelet does not possess a will of its own, and Harry did not know where you live. It was Lily who wanted Harry to find refuge with you, my boy. Lily trusted you, even before you avenged her son.”

The Potions master was speechless.

Lily…if he had only understood earlier…if only he had been their Secret Keeper.

If only he had been Harry’s father.

“Very well. Potter will come to the Manor. But a safe solution will need to be found for when the Dark Lord calls me again.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“There will always be time to have him come to Grimmauld Place or the Burrow in an emergency. It is not a problem, Severus. You are doing me a great service.”

 At any other time, Snape would have agreed completely that he was doing the headmaster an enormous favour. But now, he felt especially as though he was protecting his own interests. His cat, to be precise.

Lily’s son, his cat. He had a promise to keep and little did it matter what would come along the way.

“You have tamed the cat,” concluded Dumbledore. “Now you need to tame the boy!”

The headmaster and the Potions professor were about to rejoin the other members of the Order of the Phoenix when shouts from the floor below made them jump to their feet.

“Albus!” bellowed a voice they recognised as Moody’s.

A cacophony of shouts accompanied the voice and the two men rushed into the sitting room with their wands in hand, ready to face an orchestrated Death Eater attack.

But, arriving on the floor below, they found only five adults completely besides themselves as they shouted in all directions, while the two teenagers looked on, aghast, sheltering a black, green-eyed cat that seemed just as worried and surprised by the Order members' behaviour.

“What’s going on here?” shouted Snape in turn.

“Bloody hell, the nerve of those Muggles! I can’t believe it!” Moody replied.

“Albus,” said Kingsley, “a letter has just arrived from the Ministry. I think you'll want to read it quickly… and in private,” he added with a meaningful look at the children.

The headmaster took the letter he held out to him. The Ministry seal left him in no doubt as to the sender.

“It came through the chimney,” Kingsley explained. “Apparently, it was sent to your office and redirected here. It was addressed ’To whom it may concern,’ and given the ‘urgent’ label, we took it upon ourselves to open it without waiting for you.”

Dumbledore nodded as he rapidly scanned the letter. When he finally looked up, all eyes were fixed on him and the entire room was silent.

“What are you going to do, Albus?” asked Tonks impatiently.

Beside her, Snape coughed to remind the headmaster that, unlike the others, he still did not know what had provoked such an outcry…

Dumbledore turned towards the teenagers sitting in the armchair and searched the cat's eyes. “Harry, a new problem seems to have arisen, and it's best that you be informed. This news might upset you, and I would like you to do everything possible to remain calm and avoid another transformation. Can I count on you?”

Harry thought that it was difficult to respond, since he didn't know what was happening, but he didn’t really have much choice. He nodded again, a movement that seemed so strange in this form. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Snape come closer to him. Strangely, there was something reassuring about this… Hermione put a hand gently on his shoulders and he suddenly felt ready to serenely face all worst news in the world.

He was wrong.

“Harry, the Ministry has sent me this letter as a result of a complaint from your family. Your uncle and aunt have stated that we took you from them and they want you returned as quickly as possible,” said Dumbledore in a serious voice.

Harry felt as though the sky had fallen in. He scarcely heard Ron and Hermione’s cries, or her hand tightening on his back, but Snape’s voice, on the other hand, could not be ignored. A voice that wouldn't have been more filled with menace and rage if Neville had made the dungeon explode, and Harry could almost hear, ‘One hundred points from Gryffindor!’. But in the end, it was the same idea.…

“Albus, I told you to let me take care of that family of degenerates!”

Harry wanted to protest; it was his family after all! But on second thought, he had to admit that the insult was not totally undeserved. Why, then, did they suddenly want to see him again? Certainly not to assure his wellbeing.

“I thought I had been sufficiently convincing during my last visit… but I see that someone else made a better argument than me,” sighed Dumbledore, glancing at Snape.

“Undoubtedly,” the latter murmured.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Molly nervously.

“It seems obvious that these Muggles, who have no relationship with Potter except on paper, only want him back for a single reason: to hand him or, more likely, sell him to the Dark Lord,” the Potions professor replied darkly.

A low murmuring answered him.

Harry froze. He knew very well that obviously the Dursleys didn’t really want to see him again… but to leap from that to givng him to Voldemort?

“No one will find you here, Harry,” Arthur Weasley said reassuringly. “There is no question that these Muggles will get anywhere near you after what’s happened. Bloody hell, Albus, the Ministry should be after them! Don’t they remember that they were the ones who drove Harry away?”

“Not to mention leaving him almost for dead,” replied Snape. “That’s probably the idea, by the way... this excuse of a human didn't have a problem informing me that he'd be glad to cooperate with Voldemort if he intended to sort Harry out once and for all. I suppose the Dark Lord took good note of this.”

“I'm ready to wager that Voldemort himself sent the letter to the Ministry,” murmured Tonks.

“More likely their Squib neighbour” replied the Potions master. “Whichever it was, it doesn’t make a great deal of difference to the original plan. Harry must be hidden for the remaining two weeks of the holidays, after which he will return to Hogwarts. Between now and then, things will surely have been sorted out.”

“They will be,” agreed Dumbledore, “But it won’t be easy… Harry, I was planning to remove you from your uncle and aunt’s care anyway; I can promise that you will not return there.”

Harry felt a strange warmth spread through him. He suddenly felt like sleeping… He was never going back to Privet Drive. Never. He would never see Petunia’s face twist in disgust every time she saw him, Dudley would never push him around again, and Uncle Vernon would never again raise a hand to him. Never.

He felt his paws weaken beneath him and wisely lay down on the armchair,stunned. It was over. He hadn’t been saved for good, but that precise nightmare was at least behind him. Never again the cupboard nor the bars...

He saw someone put a bowl in front of him. He sniffed it: a repugnant liquid was floating in there. He looked up to the person who had put it downand found Snape looking at him, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“Drink it. You''ll feel better. We can’t risk you changing form now...”

After a brief hesitation, the cat lapped up the potion.Revolting, of course, but Snape had been right: he felt more in control of himself, the shock had passed. The Potions master nodded and returned to where Dumbledore was standing.

Beside him, Harry heard Ron grumble: “Since when does he call him Harry?”

“However,”continued Dumbledore, “the situation is delicate. In order to remove guardianship from the Dursleys, it would be necessary to prove that Harry has not been well-treated there, and of course provide his eye-witness account... This would require Harry to go to the Ministry. I do not think this would be a wise move at the moment. In addition, the fact that the letter came to my office indicates clearly that the Ministry suspects we know where Harry is... possibly even that we are hiding him ourselves. We need, therefore, to be particularly vigilant. Of course, Harry’s new powers give us a comfortable headstart.”

“I was hoping that Harry would be able to come to the Burrow,” sighed Molly Weasley, “but I suppose that is the first place they’d look.”

“Indeed,” agreed Dumbledore. “The problem has already been resolved, however, as Professor Snape has agreed to take Harry with him for the rest of the holidays.”

While the Order members’ faces betrayed only surprise and a certain understanding, the same could not be said of the two adolescents.

“No!” shouted Ron before flushing violently. Hermione had said nothing, but her expression clearly showed that she thought no differently. “No,” repeated Ron more calmly. “You can’t do that to Harry! Not after everything that’s happened during the holidays! Surely there must be another solution, Hogwarts, I don’t know...”

“Harry will be perfectly safe with Professor Snape,” replied Dumbledore. “He would even be the best to care for and protect him, should the need arise. It is true that Harry’s holidays have been very eventful, that is why he now needs rest and safety, as well as a few Animagus lessons. I think that you would agree with me on this, Mr Weasley?”

Ron murmured something incomprehensible.

“Will we be able to see him?” asked Hermione.

“His place of residence will be protected by the Fidelius charm,” replied Dumbledore. “Depending on how things turn out, we will see if it is reasonable for Harry to leave to see the two of you.”

He turned to Harry. “I'm sorry, Harry, I know that these aren't the holidays you had hoped for, but I am sure that you understand your safety is paramount?”

The cat miaowed its agreement.

But Ron hadn’t finished. Taking a deep breath, he seized his courage with both hands. “Listen, I know you want to do what's best for Harry, but honestly... Harry hates Snape and, er... I think that everyone knows that Harry isn’t, erm, Professor Snape’s favourite student. There must be another solution!”

He exhaled sharply, as though he had just finished a particularly long and difficult race. He looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was watching and smiling at him almost... proudly? He instantly felt better. “In short, I don’t think this is a very good idea,” he concluded, breathing in once again.

Molly Weasley seemed on the verge of saying something, but Dumbledore stopped her with a raised hand. As was usually the case, the adults seemed amused rather than indignant at Ron's little outburst, Ron was slightly disappointed to realize.

It was Snape who answered him, in a much calmer tone than he'd expected. “I was able to abide Mr Potter’s presence in my rooms for two weeks. I think I can do so again without being overly tempted to send him to the Dark Lord or force him to eat cat food. Although, the latter, of course, would be at his discretion.”

At these words, Harry jumped off the chair and went without hesitation towards the Potions master. He looked at him for a moment before blinking his eyes and sitting on his paws, then turned toward his two friends.

The priceless look on Ron and Hermione’s faces when he miaowed with determination would make him laugh for months afterward whenever he thought about it. Eyes wide, mouths hanging open, it was clear that they couldn’t believe their eyes. Harry could hear Snape laugh sofly beside him. It seemed that this memorable sight would stay with him as well.

“Albus,” the Potions master said finally, “given the circumstances, I think it would be preferable to sort out the Fidelius problem as soon as possible so that Potter can be kept safe.”

“A wise idea, of course. It will only take a moment. Molly, Harry’s things are in his room, could you bring them down so they are ready when I return?”

Molly headed for the landing while Snape and Dumbledore Apparated. To the Manor, Harry thought to himself... He was going to go back to Snape’s house.

Two more weeks there... The first two had been perfect in his opinion. Snape had been friendly, kind even, and had taken very good care of him. But he hadn't really known then who he really was, and when he had found out, his reaction hadn’t been the most positive...

Had the man really agreed to take him back or had Dumbledore forced him? How was he going to act around him now? He had called him Harry... but that didn’t mean anything, did it?

He rejoined Ron and Hermione on the armchair. It was almost certain this time that he wasn't going to see them again this summer... The idea was a little depressing; he had hoped to stay at the Burrow for a bit and have a few days of proper holiday.

But, Dumbledore was right, he would be safe at Snape Manor, and more than anything... he wanted to go back there. He'd thought he’d never see the dungeon again, the fireplace and the armchair where he had spent all his nights listening to the sound ofclinking vials and mixtures bubbling in cauldrons. He had felt safer during those few days than at Hogwarts and more at home than he had ever been at the Dursleys. That he could consider Snape’s quarters as ‘home’ was especially troubling... but Snape had transfigured an armchair for him, had given him a name, a jumper... He hadn’t contented himself with begrudgingly taking him in.

He had offered him a place to stay. He had adopted him. Come to think of it, he had never seen the professor with a pet; the idea of the Potions master stroking an animal was, in itself, very strange. And yet...

He would have truly liked to be Shadow. Just Shadow... a cat with no prophecy, no power, but who had a home, a master and no worries apart from when he’d get his next bowl of food.

The idea of a bowl of food made his stomach rumble. He was hungry and his cuts were prickling his skin...of course Snape was going to take care of them in a moment, as he had promised.

Evidently, things weren't going all that well.

He tried to chase away this notion by turning to Ron and Hermione. The disappointment was clear on their faces.

“Harry, we won’t get to see you this summer!” lamented Hermione. “Term starts in two weeks, fortunately. You mustn't worry, I’m sure Dumbledore will find a solution.”

“And we can catch up at Hogwarts,” Ron chimed in. “I’ve already got loads of ideas on what we can do with your new form... We can talk about it again when we get back to school, but just think! Think about the Slytherin dorms!”

Hermione shook her head but didn’t protest. “Harry, if there’s a problem with, you know... Professor Snape, or anything else. Don’t forget that we’re here. If the bracelet could make you Apparate you once, perhaps it can do it again!”

Indeed, thought Harry, there were a lot of things to tell them the next time he saw them in his human form.

“And above all, don’t do anything that could annoy him. Try to stay... a good cat,” Hermione said with a smile. “I think he likes you, you know, in this form in any case. But... you be careful... that’s all,” she finished.

Harry was fully decided to do that. He rested a black paw on the young girl’s face before turning to miaow at Ron. He didn’t really know what he would have wanted to say if he’d been able, but his cat form solved the problem.

His two friends smiled.

“You know, I think that it’ll take a bit to get used to this,” admitted Hermione.

“But it’s great!” added Ron enthusiastically.

Mrs Weasley had come back down and put Harry’s trunk in the middle of the lounge. “Harry dear, I’ve put all your things in your trunk and added some supplies. Not that I doubt Professor Snape’s competence when it come to cooking, but all the same, you should remind him that fish does not constitute a balanced diet! You need to regain your strength…and some weight!”

Harry jumped onto the trunk and miaowed softly at her in thanks. Her face softened.

“Oh Harry, I'd so much wanted you to be able to spend some time at the Burrow… you will behave for the professor, won’t you?” she asked.

Harry was annoyed. He wasn’t a child and so why did they all have to say that to him? It wasn’t as though he continually went at it with Snape; they should have rather said it to the professor.

“He takes your safety very seriously, you know,” Molly Weasley added.

Yes, he knew it. And he had no intention of making things difficult for him; he thought he’d made that abundantly clear by going to the professor.

Mrs Weasley gave him a smile that melted his irritation; yes, he too would have liked to spend some time at the Burrow and enjoy Molly’s kindness and delicious cooking. Sometimes he even felt almost as though he had a family, surrounded by Mr and Mrs Weasley and their children.

Hogwarts was a bit like his home and the Weasleys were a bit like his family… The Dursleys had never really been his family, though he had thought they were when he was younger. A family who had probably just concluded an agreement with Voldemort to get rid of him. He really wasn’t too sure anymore where he belonged. His real family was dead and the only place he could really call his home at the moment was, if he had understood correctly, this house. The house that Sirirus had hated and where he'd been unhappy; Sirirus, whose death was his fault...

He suddenly felt relieved at the prospect of spending the coming weeks with Snape: the professor would surely give him a quiet sanctuary where he wouldn’t have to think about all these things. He fully intended to sleep, sleep and sleep some more, as much as one could with Voldemort, the Dursleys and everything that went with them. He was going to roll into a ball next to the fire and not move away from itfor two weeks.

Snape and Dumbledore returned a few moments later, obviously satisfied. The Potions professor seemed more tired now; not surprising, thought Harry, when one knew that only a few hours before he’d been unconscious and incapable of stringing more than two words together.

“The formalities have been taken care of,” announced Dumbledore. “Harry, do you wish to say anything before you leave? I am sorry to cut short your reunion with your friends, but the situation is particularly delicate and we would all be happier knowing that you are safe.”

Harry thought he would've had a million things to say…but cats didn't talk. Without hesitation, he jumped onto the trunk and took a final look at his friends. They seemed disappointed, but they waved good bye to him .

“‘Til the start of term, Harry, or perhaps before. Take care yourself!”

For his part, Snape nodded goodbye to the Order members and reached down to pick up the cat, in a way they suspected had become familiar to the two of them.

A moment later, the room disappeared in a whirl of darkness and Harry recognised the telltale smell of the dungeons, a mixture of wood smoke and acrid potions.

Snape put him down again on the trunk which had Apparated with them, and stretched, clearly relieved to be back at the Manor. Harry was surprised to feel the same sentiment and the same need to relax the muscles taut from the pervasive tension of Grimmauld Place.

“Well, Mr Potter, I shall show you to your rooms, but first we're going to deal with the matter of your injuries. Given that dinner isn’t for another two hours, I think you could very well do with a snack.”

The professor took a pot of salve that Harry recognised instantly: it was one he'd used on him before. And now that he thought about it, he had used it himself over the last few days… But why, then, did he need to do it again? How had the wounds reappeared?

Snape seemed to understand his confusion because he answered the questions Harry hadn’t been able to put into words. “It seems that your transformations cause certain problems. Perhaps you do not recall, but when we forced you to resume your human form at Grimmauld Place, your wounds reappeared without our knowing why. It's probably linked to the problems you have with assimilating your two forms… whatever it is exactly, we should be careful. We'll see about transforming you back this evening to ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Harry wasn’t at all sure he wanted to transform back, but didn’t let it show. He was feeling silly enough as it was… yes, he really had believed he was a cat and, yes, he'd had trouble facing his adolescent memories. Something told him that now he was also going to have trouble facing his cat memories...

“Potter, jump up on the table and try not to knock anything over,” the Potions master asked.

Potter. No, that wouldn’t do. If he was going to spend two more weeks here, he refused to be treated like he was at Hogwarts during the school year! He didn’t move and stared challengingly at the professor.

The latter got the message and rolled his eyes. “Very well. I suppose that I only have myself to blame… Harry, then, on the table, if you want me to take care with your wounds.”

Satisfied, the cat leapt smoothly. The Potions master, however, seemed annoyed.

“Harry, did someone give you a pain reducing potion?” he asked.

The cat blinked in response. Yes, Moody had made him drink a particularly strong potion that had quickly made all the pain disappear from his body. The cuts stung, but they didn’t really hurt.

Snape sighed. “Listen, Harry, the cuts aren’t the only problem. You also have a broken arm and rib. The rib should have healed quickly, but... unfortunately your arm, or rather your paw, as things are now, has not healed properly. I am going to have to rebreak it to set it correctly. After that, you’ll have to be careful with it for a while; that’s why you will need to remain in human form so that you don’t put weight on it. I'll do it in such a way that it won'thurt, but you really will have to be careful,” he said.

Harry suddenly felt depressed. A broken arm and rib? How? When? He knew where all the cuts had come from, but...oh.

Uncle Vernon. He vaguely remembered having slid to the floor, half-conscious, and that Vernon had continued to hit him... He winced. A kick. Well then, he supposed he knew ‘how’ now.

Strangely, this memory hurt him more than the idea that they wanted to get send him to Voldemort. His uncle hated him so much that he had kicked him repeatedly while he was on the ground, all the while continuing to insult him... and Petunia had been there, downstairs, and hadn’t said anything. They'd not only sought for another wizard to kill him, they had almost managed to do the job themselves.

He now felt slightly sick. He folded his paws underneath himself and lay down on the table.

Snape didn’t say a word, but the hands that began to apply the salve were particularly gentle and light of touch as they massaged his injuries, as if he want to try to comfort him.

And in a way, it worked. At least someone was concerned with taking care of him and not wanting to hurt him...

When Snape had finished spreading the salve on, he went without a word to find the cat’s bowl, and filled it with fish. Harry jumped to the ground and rushed towards it with as much dignity as his stomach would allow.

He heard the professor laugh quietly behind him. “I see that no one at Grimmauld Place followed my advice. I assure you that Molly Weasley lectured me soundly on the fact that an adolescent should not just eat fish. A complete meal will be served in two hours, but for now I will indulge this professed penchant for sardines in oil.”

Snape went to the armoire and pulled out a few bottles. The day was still far from over...

The effect of the potions Snape had ingested earlier was starting to wear off; he should have known, as the potions in question worked miracles, but they couldn’t work fully on someone who took them and manipulated them so frequently.

It would be best for Harry to sleep deeply through the night, because he himself would probably be in no condition to keep an eye on him if he decided to go wandering around the Manor. He quickly swallowed two potions and turned towards the cat who was licking his chops.

“Good. I suppose it is time to show you your rooms and the rest of the Manor, for as much as that will interest you. It’s also time to resume your human form, Harry.” He was definitely going to have trouble getting used to speaking to Harry informally, he thought. Be that as it may, it would have to stop at the start of term.

The cat watched him, seeming lost and ill at ease. From all appearances, he didn’t have the faintest idea of how to proceed.

“It isn’t a difficult technique to assimilate, but nevertheless, it is necessary to understand how it works. It is basically grounded in the will. We will have time to go more deeply into it in the next two weeks, but you have already managed to transform several times on your own. Let’s see what you can do,” said the Potions master.

Harry knew he had done it before...but he hadn’t thought while he was doing it and at that precise moment, he had neither the desire nor the faintest idea how to proceed. He tried to visualise a brown-haired adolescent, then closed his eyes...

Nothing.

He glanced apologetically at the professor.

Snape sighed. "Very well, we'll have more time for this tomorrow. Is that your final word, Harry?"

The cat blinked.

Snape pointed his wand at him. “Animagus revelio.”

The moment after, Harry felt his body rapidly transform. He had still never had the chance to approach the change calmly enough to pay attention to it, and he had to admit that the feeling was very strange. Not only did his body change in appearance, but he also felt his mind connect to a different frequency, with more subtleties, more nuances...

But when he found himself on two feet, he had to admit that it was not as unsettling as the first few times. He had all his memories, cat and human, and he knew who he was and what had happened to him. He even managed to keep his balance, more or less, and offered Snape a hesitant smile.

He was surprised to see the professor nod in approval. His expression, though, remained sombre.

Snape was relieved to see that the boy’s wounds had not started to bleed again. It would seem that it'd been the shock of the first transformation that had caused them to reopen. But, Merlin, the boy was terribly thin and his blood-soaked clothes made him look as though he'd come straight out of a dungeon of Death Eaters.

“Harry?” he asked.

“Yes? Oh, er, I’m all right. I think,” replied the boy. “It’s a bit strange to change bodies, though I suppose I should be used to this one,” he said with a small forced laugh.

“The superficial wounds seem to be under control for the moment. We'll look at the others later, if they aren’t causing you any pain now?”

“No. Moody gave me something really strong, judging by the taste... but I think that a shower would do me good, if that’s possible. And, er, I had better change,” he added, looking at his clothes.

Snape murmured a quick spell in the direction of the trunk, which disappeared with a “pop.”

“Oh, just one thing,” the boy added, “I promise I’ll listen to everything you say, but… I don’t have my glasses anymore, so I can’t be sure I’ll catch everything right. My eyesight is really terrible,” he apologised.

Snape frowned. The boy didn’t know what had happened to his glasses… well, it was for the best. There was no point reminding him how dreadfully shameful his family was. He took something out of his pocket and held it towards the boy, who squinted to try to see it better. His face brightened.

“You found them!” he exclaimed, putting on his glasses, a big smile on his face. It was great to see again!

“Actually, the headmaster took the liberty of ordering you a new pair. The old ones have disappeared, and these will adapt automatically to your vision.”

The boy smiled as he nodded. ”In fact,I think I can see the difference already. It’s strange, when I’m in my Animagus form, my eyesight is much better. I had almost forgotten how bad it really was!”

“Cats see much better than we do. You probably don’t see well for a cat, but that would be very adequate for a human,” explained the professor. “Shall we begin?”

The boy replied with a nod of his head.

“Very well. No need to show you my laboratory, I assume?” Snape asked ironically while the boy looked around, clearly embarrassed. Yes, not much point…

“Normally, I would forbid access, but I suppose that won’t be necessary. So, you will be able come in here as long as you don’t touch anything, as I believe you have a habit of doing.”

Harry cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

Snape opened the heavy wooden door and the boy followed him. They climbed up a stone staircase that led straight into a wide corridor. The Potions master gestured towards the first door.

“My room. In an emergency you must not hesitate to disturb me, but my quarters are off-limits the rest of the time, just to be clear.”

Harry nodded. The idea of skulking around the tyrannical Potions professor's bedroom was at once terrifying and very tempting…

But the Potions master had already moved on, pointing to the door opposite the last one, on the other side of the corridor. “You will stay here.” He opened the door.

Curious, Harry took a few steps in and found himself in a plainly furnished room, the window with wide-open curtains showing a view of the grounds. The bed was made and his trunk was waiting in the corner of the room. He could also see that some paper and a few books had been placed on the desk. Had Snape prepared the room for him? The idea was strangely…well, both comforting and embarrassing. He noted a second door at the back of the room. The professor answered his question before he had time to ask it.

“There is an en suite bathroom. Should you need it, the laundry is the door to the side.” Without losing any more time, the professor went out again. Harry left the room reluctantly; he’d as of yet never had the chance to stay in such a spacious and comfortable room… and it'd been quite a while since he'd been able to wash himself.

Snape continued by showing him the sitting room, dining room, library and, to finish, the front door which, surprisingly, he had yet to use.

“There we go. You already know the grounds, I believe. Questions?” asked Snape.

“Er, yes… if it’s not too indiscreet, are there house-elves in the Manor?”

The professor pursed his lips. “Certainly not.”

Harry wondered for an instant if Hermione hadn’t just found a new member for SPEW, but Snape made quick work of dispelling his illusions. “You see how sorry I am, Potter, but you will have to clean your own room and put up with my cooking.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry said defensively, “It’s just…the Manor reminded me of Grimmauld Place or, I don’t know, Malfoy Manor. I imagine it must be difficult to keep up…”

The Potions master relaxed slightly. “The example of Grimmauld Place and your friend Dobby should suffice to convince you that these creatures are not reliable. A spy certainly cannot allow himself to take this sort of risk,” he replied more calmly.

The memory of Kreacher and Sirius hit Harry full-force and he felt himself growing angry. Oh yes, he understood the Potions master perfectly.

“Besides,” the latter continued, “the Manor was built recently, unlike those you mentioned. It is not a family estate.”

This last remark awakened Harry's curiosity, but he didn’t dare ask. He didn’t want to alienate Snape by being indiscreet…

“Anything else?” asked the professor.

“No, it's fine. Thanks,” replied the boy.

“Good. Dinner will be ready in two hours, in the dining room. If you need me, I will be in the laboratory.” With a wave of the hand he signald to the boy that he had the run of the house, before heading back for the stone staircase again.

Harry felt strangely frustrated, seeing the professor head to the dungeon. Yes, he really wanted a good shower and was very happy about the bedroom, but this part of the Manor was unknown to him and he felt slightly ill at ease there. One would've said that these rooms were rarely used, much less lived in. He would rather have gone back down to the laboratory as well.

Thinking hard about it, he couldn’t exactly recall having seen Snape leave the dungeon during the weeks he'd spent here. He went up only to sleep and rarely to eat—always a quick bite-- in the laboratory. Why then did Snape live here if he hadn't inherited it? Because that was what he'd seemed to mean. The Manor wasn’t as big as he had thought it was when he was a cat, but it was sufficient to comfortably house a large family. The Potions master had not seen fit to tell him what was hidden behind certain doors, and he didn't doubt that many rooms were in fact empty. But for now, he felt exhausted and really dirty; he slid delightedly under the hot water jet in the little bathroom.

He carefully felt his arm for the fracture. It wasn’t hard to find: near his shoulder the bone was at a strange angle… He winced. He should have noticed it earlier…

Didn't matter. Snape would take care of it.

The hot water running over him relaxed his muscles and made him strangely sleepy. The emotions of the day had worn him out, just as much as the transformations. Even if they appeared less trying to him now, it seemed as though they drained his energy very quickly, especially when they were precipitated by magic.

He closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation of warmth. He would have liked to be in an armchair down below, curled in a ball next to the fire. Before he had time to react, he felt himself suddenly shrink and change.

Oh no, no, he mustn't, not now! He opened his eyes wide in a desperate attempt to stop the transformation. In vain.

The moment after, a rather miserable black cat escaped from the bathroom, its fur soaked and its tail drooping.

Well, all right, so, he was starting get an inkling of how these Animagus transformations worked. And now, he really, really wanted to transform back into a human before Snape noticed and yelled at him! Even so, he couldn’t take points from Gryffindor during the holidays, could he?

He tried with all his might to return himself to his original form, but ten minutes later, there was still a soaking wet black cat dripping onto the bedroom carpet .

And on top of that, he was really starting to feel cold.

He sighed. It would be better to go to Snape now than to leave the surprise until suppertime.

Still fortunate, he thought, that the door to the laboratory was at the foot of the stairs. But, bloody hell, he hated going down steps.

Once at the bottom he started to miaow weakly… it wouldn’t do to make the Potions master jump in the middle of a preparation. A few moments later, the door opened to a rather resigned-looking Snape. "I suppose I should've expected it," he said as he stepped aside to allow him in.

“So, I can't leave you alone for five minutes without you finding a way to put yourself in an impossible situation?”

The cat looked at him, half-contrite, half-defiant. After all, he wasn’t the one who'd found himself imprisoned at a stupid Death Eater meeting. In comparison, finding himself temporarily trapped in his cat form didn't seem like the end of the world.

Snape looked at the slightly trembling cat. He seemed exhausted and it reminded him terribly of Shadow in those first days …

Remembering the broken paw, the Potions master decided it would be better not to take any risks. He threw a towel onto the second armchair, grabbed the cat and put it on the towel, without further ado.

“Ready, Shadow, you stupid alley cat?”

They both jumped. No, the professor hadn’t wanted to use that name…it had slipped out and he already regretted it. Calling the boy by his first name was one thing, but to go back to the ridiculous name he had given him…

He groaned. Enough nonsense. “Animagus revelio!”

From the expression on the boy’s face as he sat in the armchair, it was clear that the use of his cat name had shaken him as well. He suddenly remembered why the second armchair was there, the way he liked to curl up against Snape’s shoulder and…

His hand felt the towel on which he was sitting. Snape followed his gaze and the boy knew immediately that they were thinking about the same thing. The shower under the gutter, being dried on the professor’s knees.

“Potter, if you even think about saying a single word, I swear I will throw you head first into the chimney without the benefit of Floo powder!” snapped Snape.

Harry made a small strangled sound, before jumping abruptly up from the armchair.

“And go and brush your teeth, your breath reeks of sardines!”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice and hurtled out of the laboratory, taking the stairs two at a time, his heart racing. Oh, Merlin. He was never going to be able to look the professor in the eye. Finding himself on Snape’s knees, being gently dried with a towel… and he had started to purr, he was almost certain…

He was going to shut himself in his room and pretend to be asleep when Snape called him for dinner. If he called him at all.

Of course, he could have laughed about it, but it was obvious that the Potions master didn’t find the episode particularly comical, anyway. He had to admit that, at the time, he hadn’t found it that unpleasant, far from it...

Hands gently rubbing with a soft towel to dry him, he'd had the impression of being….what exactly? A child being dried gently after a bath. Yes, that was it exactly. But that had never really happened to him, had it? Not before Snape.

Merlin. It was even worse than he thought. He opened his trunk and searched feverishly for some clean clothes. He quickly threw his wet ones into the laundry basket in the bathroom and threw himself, exhausted, onto the bed. If he could only disappear under the covers and make the world forget about him…

If only he could just be a cat, who allowed himself to be dried and carried…

With these thoughts, sleep overtook him and he fell asleep with his head buried in the pillows.

Dreaming about cats and potions…

Somewhere in his dream, he heard muffled knocking, and perhaps someone calling his first name, It wasn’t Ron, the voice was male, but more serious… His dad, perhaps…but he didn’t know what his voice sounded like and this one was familiar… no, not exactly familiar…

He felt a hand gently shake his shoulder and awoke with a start.

"Harry? Are you all right ?"

Snape. It took a moment for the boy to remember where he was and what he was doing there.

"I’m fine," he responded automatically.

"I did not mean to wake you," the professor explained. He seemed worried… That's what was unusual in his voice, Harry told himself.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, but he meant it this time, “I fell asleep. I don’t think I really heard when you called me."

Snape nodded. "It has been a trying day. If you feel ready, dinner is served."

The Potions master watched as Harry slowly stood, worry lingering in his eyes. The boy was weak - it would be best to wait until the next day to take care of his arm… He himself would have a clearer idea of how to proceed with that delicate intervention. It was a good thing that the boy was tired, as Snape was dying to sleep and would feel much better if he knew the boy was sound asleep.

Dinner passed in silence. To Harry’s surprise, the meal was really good. Although, as was a Potions master, that shouldn't have surprised him. He had never seen the man cook before, though, before the time in the dungeon. Probably because he lacked the time. He suddenly felt slightly guilty.

"Professor… if it doesn't bother you, I could take care of the meals. I know how to cook well," he added.

Snape frowned. "You don't like my cooking, Potter?"

"Yes, of course I do!" he hastened to reply. "I haven’t eaten this well since the beginning of the holidays, honest! It’s just that… I thought that you had other things to do. I really don't manage things all that badly, you know."

The professor slowly nodded. "Well. I suppose that we can take turns. There is no need to arise on schedule tomorrow morning; I think we both need extra sleep. You could cook breakfast if you are the first one awake. You will find whatever you need in the kitchen."

Harry nodded and dipped once more into his plate. He had no desire to ruin his first meal…a question of honor!.

When they had finished dinner, Harry expected Snape to want to take care of his fracture as he’d mentioned earlier, but the man no longer seemed to intend to do it. With a flick of his wand, all the dishes vanished, and then he stood.

"Do you need anything before bed? A potion?" he asked the boy.

"No, thank you. Um, what about my arm…?"

Snape tilted his head to the side. "That is for you to decide. I thought that we were both sufficiently tired after today, and that it would be best to put it off until tomorrow, but if you wish for us to fix this problem tonight, we can take care of it immediately."

"No," the boy quickly replied, "I prefer the first solution too. It doesn’t hurt right now and I think I’ve had enough strong emotions for the day."

He hesitated for an instant.

"I… I wanted to thank you, for all that you're doing for me. I know that you don’t really like me much and… well, I assure you that I'll do my best not to disturb you. Just tell me what I must do."

Snape gave him a strange look.

"For the moment, sleep. And in the second attempt, learn to better control your transformations and avoid the particularly dangerous and idiotic situations in which you routinely find yourself," he replied. "Whether in your cat or human form, I would like you to remember that it's out of the question to ever go beyond the Manor boundaries. That would be excessively dangerous for everyone. The Manor is watched very closely."

"I don't go looking for trouble, it's trouble that finds me," Harry defended himself. “And I don’t have any intention of leaving the Manor. I- I'm happy here."

Harry felt himself flush furiously. When he looked up, he saw Snape's black eyes staring at him, his face inscrutable.

"All the better. The Dark Lord is unaware of your new Animagus capabilities, and that must continue as long as possible. In any case, practicing transforming and preparing for the return to Hogwarts should be sufficient to occupy the remainder of your holiday."

Harry grimaced. As for the time for quiet hols by the fire…he should've suspected.

Snape rose from his chair and the boy followed suit. Both headed for their rooms, their steps echoing in the large corridor.

"If you need anything... You will find Dreamless Sleep potion and others for pain in the bedside table. Their names and dosage are marked on the bottles. Don't hesitate to use them. I'll be in my room or the laboratory if you have a problem. A genuine problem," he concluded, wrinkling his brow at the boy. He did not intend to be disturbed for a glass of water or an untimely transformation, not tonight.

The boy smiled at him, his green eyes boring into his own, Lily’s eyes, soft and determined…

"I’m sure I’ll be fine. I only want one thing: to sleep for the next two weeks. Thanks a lot, Professor. Really," Harry said, without blushing this time[.] He really had to let the man how much he appreciated being able to sleep in safety here.

Snape nodded. "Good night."

"Good night, Professor."

The two doors closed on their occupants and silence fell over the Manor.

A part of Harry would've liked to collapse on the bed and to go to sleep there, fully dressed, until sleep was done with him. But this was his first night at the Manor… officially. He moved towards the window to shut the large curtains; he didn’t want to be awakened by the sun tomorrow morning. It was nighttime now, but he could just see the silhouettes of the trees beneath the moonlight. The estate grounds… it would be strange to take a walk out there in his normal form.

He pulled the curtains closed. Everything was going to be weird… and even better if Snape was too. This first evening hadn't gone all that badly, all things considered. Their conversation had remained polite as a whole. And Snape had called him Shadow! It seemed to him that his heart had stopped beating.

Could the Man in Black still think of him as "his" cat? Hi didn’t seem to hate him as much anymore… even if the towel episode had been especially embarrassing…

They were both completely exhausted tonight. Tomorrow things would be different again.

Harry searched his trunk for his pajamas. His hand bumped into a box he didn’t remember having put there: the twins’ gift. He smiled – it would be best to wait for Hogwarts to open that one! He doubted Snape’s sense of humor would appreciate this kind of joke. Far from it.

With a sigh of contentment, he slipped under the covers. The bed was soft, comfortable… definitely an improvement compared to his room at the Dursleys’.

He felt his heart constrict at the thought. No, he would never again return to Privet Drive. They definitely did not want anymore to do with him. In fact, they clearly wished for his death. All that because of Marge… really? Was there something to it, could he have somehow caused her death?

Dumbledore had not seemed very optimistic about this thing with the Ministry… Perhaps he'd have to see the Dursleys again after all. But Dumbledore would not let them take him and hand him over to Voldemort, of that he was sure.

But if he didn't have a choice? What the Dark Lord had done to Snape would be a joke in comparison to what he would do to him if he managed to at last get ahold of him. Voldemort certainly wouldn't be content with just killing him…

Snape… he had rarely seen the man as tired as he’d been tonight. All his features had been strained and he’d delayed repairing his arm until tomorrow. That wasn't like him. And Snape was going to have to re-break his arm. That was certainly not going to be a walk in the park...

Sleep finally managed to get the best of his thoughts, and he sank into a dream where Snape had to finally re-break all his bones, and contrary to what he’d said, it was painful. Vernon was firmly holding him down, laughing coarsely, as he assured Snape that he also needed to crack his skull into order to show his support.

It was Voldemort who had the last word, assuring them that a Cruciatus curse would have a much better effect and then proving it.

In the end, Snape was no longer in agreement with them about damaging his cat; it would put hair everywhere and ruin his potions. Vernon advised him to drown it, but Snape didn't want to. Voldemort also wanted to have him, but Snape wouldn't budge. Finally, the furious Dark Lord decided to break the Professor’s bones in the cat’s place.

If Severus had counted on getting a good night’s sleep, he was quickly disappointed. It seemed as if he had scarcely gone to sleep when cries from the other side of the hall woke him.

He swore under his breath: Harry…

Wand in hand, he leapt from his bed and in a few strides he was in the boy's room, ready to face Death Eaters, or worse, Voldemort in person.

With a flick of his wand, he opened the curtains wide, and moonlight filled the room.

But Harry was alone and nothing was moving except the boy himself, screaming as he struggled violently in his bed.

Snape sighed: a nightmare. He supposed that he could hardly hold him resonsible after the day he'd had. He should have been more insistent about the Dreamless Sleep .

Anyway, the nightmare had to be frightening, as the boy seemed to be truly suffering.

"Harry, wake up," he called gently.

The boy moaned but didn’t wake.

"Harry! It’s a dream, everything is fine, you're safe!"

Again, no reaction. His face contorted, the boy gound his teeth in his sleep, before letting loose another agonizing cry.

This time Snape grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him as gently as he could. Just as well, as the boy jumped and literally threw himself out of reach to the other end of the bed. Hunched up, arms covering his face, he didn’t even look at the man standing at his side.

"Sorry! Sorry, Uncle Vernon, I didn’t do it on purpose. I won’t do it again! I’m sorry! Sorry!"

Snape shook his head. The pitiful voice suddenly reminded him how very young Harry was. Maybe Snape hadn't given enough of a lesson to that bloody Muggle after all.

"Harry, everything is fine, you are not at Privet Drive anymore, you are at Snape Manor and you're not in danger. It was a nightmare," he said in the soothing voice used with Shadow.

The boy’s breathing didn't calm, but at least he stopped his long litany of apologies. Or he nearly did…

"I'm sorry," he said hesitantly, half-aware this time.

"Harry, please look at me," said Potions master firmly.

Slowly, the boy lowered his arms and blinked at him.

"I have no intention of hurting you. I am here to protect you, and no one will be able to reach you here. Everything's fine." Snape felt rather ridiculous, but the boy was truly distressed. Were his nightmares always so violent?

The boy seemed to regain consciousness little by little, but his eyes were still confused.

"I’m sorry. For everything."

"Sorry? For what, Harry?" Snape inquired, intrigued.

"For all the deaths. For what Voldemort did to you. Everything." His voice was choppy and hoarse. Close to tears, the Potions master thought.

"You are not responsible for the death of your aunt, Harry. It's only a terribly hurtful and cruel excuse your family found to throw you out…"

"Not just her. Sirius and my parents… Cedric."

"Harry, you cannot feel responsible for all the deaths that occur and will continue to occur around you. Sirius and your parents knew the risks. They all made their own choices, and you cannot not offend them by denying them their courage. Voldemort was the cause and the originator of these deaths, and no one would ever think to reproach you for them. The same goes for me. I have chosen my position and have accepted the risks. You have nothing to do with either my choices or their consequences," Snape calmly said.

"If I wasn't there… nothing would have happened."

"True. There would have been many more deaths, much more horror, and as for myself, I would, in all likelihood, have been long since dead. Certain things were inevitable and horrible… but that doesn't mean they weren't worth it, in a way."

Snape was not sure that the boy understood, but he had to try. This child could not live and struggle with such a huge weight of guilt.

"It was still my fault,” the boy murmured. His breathing was calmer, now but he seemed at the end of his strength.

"How is that?" Snape questioned softly.

"I bring bad luck to everyone around me," the boy replied with a sob in his voice..

Here we have it, thought the Potions master. What could he say to that? He moved closer to the boy who didn't try to flee this time.

"That's ridiculous, Harry," he said. "You're not responsible for everything that happens."

The boy sniffed. "Black cats bring bad luck, everyone knows that," he said bitterly.

In the moonlight, Snape could see the tears running down the boy’s cheeks.

The gesture came to him almost naturally. Fatigue, he thought later.

Wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders, he started to stroke his hair as he would have done with Shadow.

"I would not want a cat of any other colour," he murmured.

Exhaustion probably got the best of the boy as well, because the moment after his head rested against his professor's chest, Snape could feel his trembling ease.

Several minutes later, his breathing was regular and Snape knew he'd dropped back to sleep.

Damn it, he probably wasn't going to sleep in his bed again that night.

But, strangely, he felt calmer and more at peace than he'd been in a long time, his hand caressing the brown hair of the boy sleeping against him.

At the break of day, Snape awoke, aware of a weight on his chest.  He gently lifted his head.

The child hadn't budged.

And yes, he was indeed a child, Snape thought, as he looked at the sleeping face that seemed so much younger without the usual furrow of worry creasing his forehead.  He weighed far too little for the sixteen year old teenager that he was….

What was he going to do about him?

After Harry'd finally fallen asleep, he hadn't had it in himself to abandon him there, to risk awakening him, or let him suffer through another nightmare.  When he'd at last decided to get more comfortable by leaning back against the pillows, the boy had clutched at his arm in his sleep, refusing to let him go.

The gesture had left Snape strangely disturbed.

Had he done the right thing? When was the last time an adult had comforted the boy after a nightmare? Had anyone even held him like this since his parents died?

Snape doubted it.

But of all those around the boy, why did it have to be that he—Severus—was the one to do it?  He'd sworn to protect the boy, obviously, but beyond the promise to Lily, he had to admit that the boy himself had touched him.

When Harry'd turned his back on those two insolent brats and come to Snape instead, he'd suddenly been proud of the boy. He knew how much courage it took for a teenager to stand up to his friends, even more so when it was over a hated Potions professor!

But Harry's loyalty was at once touching and worrisome.  The boy had this infuriating tendency to experience things to an extreme, and that risked causing a problem.

Of course, he was going to make the boy drink potions to help him more easily block Voldemort's intrusions, but that wouldn't be enough to cloak emotions that were too strong.

If what Dumbledore had told him was true, the boy's visions were affecting him at the exact moment that Voldemort himself was feeling intense happiness or anger.  Harry possessed neither this hatred nor violence, but he was all too sensitive in matters of attachment, kindness, and safety—in short, all that'd been lacking in his brief life.

It was here that the channel between Voldemort and Harry was at risk of being opened, if Harry allowed his new emotions to unsettle him. The result could only be catastrophic.

Yes, Snape had to watch over Harry, but he had to take care not to encourage a relationship. This applied to both of them.

And he was certainly going to have to begin Occlumency lessons again.

He sighed. It was going to be a long day. But then, weren't all of them?

Snape surprised himself by smoothing a hand over the boy's hair. Everything would've been so much simpler if he'd actually been a cat.

He managed to reluctantly extricate himself from the bed without waking the child.  Harry really didn't weigh much; Snape was going to have to adequate feed him.

It turned out that Snape was the one who'd be taking care of the first breakfast in their new living arrangement.

And if the profound sleep into which the boy had fallen were any indication, he'd not be touching pots and pans that day.

Snape smiled at the idea. He was curious to see the teenager's talents when it came to cooking…and hoped that his love of fish would be confined exclusively to his cat form!

oooOOOooo

When Harry opened his eyes, he felt more rested and at peace than he'd been in a long time. In fact, he didn't recall ever having slept so well, full stop.

He took a long time to stretch, smiling. The bed was really comfortable…

The bed?

What bed?

He opened his eyes, his mind foggy as he groped for his glasses.  A thin sliver of sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, dimly lighting the large bedchamber.

Snape Manor.  He was at the Manor, and….

Snape. He'd spent the night here as well.

Harry buried his head in his pillow as the memory came back to him. Snape had consoled him, had held him in his arms and comforted him like a little child…and he'd spent the night at his side. Merlin.

He couldn't decide if he should die of shame on the spot, or wait a bit and enjoy the feeling of well-being spreading through him, at just the memory of the night before.

It'd been like being Shadow, but better.  So much better.

But still…Snape? What was up with him? The episode with Shadow had probably shaken them both up a bit.

He was all of a sudden not in a hurry to see the man again. What was Snape going to think of him?  Was he cross because Harry'd wakened him? He'd seemed really tired last night, and had strongly lectured not to disturb him unnecessarily.

Guilt washed over Harry. It was probably too late to apologize by making breakfast.  Best to get up right away. It wouldn't help matters to annoy the professor further by spending the day in bed.

Harry jumped out from beneath the covers and nervously put on the clothes that'd remained on the chair. It was only ten o'clock by his watch, but it hadn't been nine when he'd gone to bed last night.

Nightmare not included, of course.

He quickly opened the curtains, with a glance at the park as he did so: in the daytime, it seemed even larger than he remembered.  Snape Manor was lost in the countryside: surely a good thing for a Death Eater…or a spy.

Wasting no time, Harry headed for the dining room.  As he'd expected, it was empty. The professor had probably eaten several hours ago.

But for all of that, the table was not cleared away.  Harry could see a still-steaming plateful of eggs and rashers, pitchers of milk and fruit juice across from him, and what he could identify as yogurt.

It looked like Snape hadn't taken any chances concerning Harry's tastes. As he started in on his eggs enthusiastically with his fork, Harry was thankful for the magic that'd kept his food hot. The meal had been there for hours, perhaps, but it seemed straight from the frying pain.

His stomach full, he wanted nothing more to eat, and was about to clear the table, when it emptied on its own.  Intrigued, he decided to take a look at the kitchen: the fruit was back in its basket, the plate and glass in their cupboard, and not a single crumb was to be found on the floor.

Did Mrs Weasley herself know such housekeeping spells? the boy wondered.  Clearly, the Potions professor had plenty of hidden talents.  Did Death Eater training have a section on 'Housekeeping for Fussy Wizards'?

Harry stifled a laugh as he imagined a Snape and a Lucius Malfoy in aprons, wooden spoons in their hands, listening attentively to a Voldemort sporting a chef's hat.

If Snape happened to one day get a glimpse of this small vision of himself, it'd be fruitless for Harry to think of running, because death would surely be instantaneous!

It was senseless, too, to wonder where the professor was just now.  It was only natural for Harry to find his way to the dungeon.  With a light heart, he went down the stone steps; it was without a doubt so much easier in his human form.  As he got closer to the door, the bitter odor of brewing potions reached him.  He smiled; if someone had told him there'd come a day when this smell would seem comforting….

There…the sound of clinking bottles and a knife chopping roots.  So many things forcefully reminded him of the softness of a jumper.  He only had to knock at the door, and Snape would open it.  And that was a good thing as well.

He covered the last meter and lifted a hand to knock, but it suddenly seemed as if the small space in front of the stairway had grown much too large, and that the door had become huge.

No!  No, not again, it was ridiculous.  Nothing had happened.  So, didn't he have any control over his transformations?

He had no time to think about it, as the door opened from within to show a mocking Snape.  "Are you sulking, Mr Potter?"

The cat meowed in protest.  That wasn't funny!

"If I'd known, I'd have contented myself with opening a tin of tuna instead of cooking.  Did you find your plate, Potter? Or should I say, your bowl?"

The cat stubbornly refused to answer or look at him, and then took off, its tail rigid, to sit in front of the fireplace.

Behind him, he heard the Potions professor laugh softly.  "Very well, Harry.  Are you all right? Have you eaten?  Need a potion?"

The cat turned its head to give him a curt meow. Yes, everything was fine, outside of the situation itself.

"Perfect," the professor said mockingly. "We know, then, where to begin our lessons this morning."

Harry suddenly knew that what he wanted to do most at that very moment was to jump on the table and knock over a few potions, just for the pleasure of seeing that taunting smile wiped from his professor's face.

But his irritation didn't last long.

"It's nice outside, all the better to make use of the park. I think a small change of scenery will do us good. We'll stay close to the Manor—foolish to take unnecessary risks."

Without waiting for the rest of it, the cat took the dungeon steps, four at a time.

"Harry! I recall having told you to take care of that paw! We'll see to your arm afterward, but I don't want any foolish games outside. You'll stay within a meter of me at all times. No jumping, no racing.  Understood?" Snape asked in his best of Potions professor voices.

The cat impatiently flicked its tail and blinked in the Man in Black's direction.

If he had to…  But he wasn't a doggie following at its master's heels!

When Snape at last opened the door, letting in the sun, Shadow had to fight the urge to run off at a gallop into the grass.

Fresh air! After the confining atmosphere of the dungeon and the dim light of Grimmauld Place, he'd almost forgotten how good it was to feel the wind in his fur.  Or his hair, whatever.

Holding himself back to a little trot, he followed Snape as he walked a circle around the Manor.  A little path brought them quickly under the cover of the tress, only several dozen meters from the building.

"This is far enough," Snape said as they came to an open space.  "So.  For now, I want you to concentrate on this place. The trees, the wind, the sounds, the smells.  Try to grasp them with your cat senses, at the same time being aware of how they're different from your human ones.  You must completely separate the two forms."

Harry had understood.  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to catch the smells around him.  Stronger, in a way, but also more intense, each one standing out instead of forming a confusing medley.  The earth, the humus, and even Snape, a few steps away from him.

The wind blew his fur in the wrong direction, prickling his skin, where before it'd only ruffled his hair; the earth beneath his paws seemed alive.

He opened his eyes again and met the professor's calm expression.  He seemed taller, of course, but Shadow could also pick out each little detail of his hands, his face, the way his jugular pulsed at his neck.  Yes, his eyesight was much sharper than that of his human form.

A few moments later, Snape began to speak again.

"Just as your senses are different, your mind does not work the same way. That's what keeps the Dark Lord from being able to find you. But in spite of all that, in your different forms you are no less the same person."

Harry felt a weight leave him. Yes, he and Shadow were one, and Snape accepted that.  He accepted him. At least, that was what he was seeming to say.

"Not being an Animagus myself, I could not be very precise on the manner of controlling these transformations. However, from what I do know, focusing on a specific image, a particular thought, can help to concentrate and channel your intent.  Something motivating enough to make you want to change forms.  Why not try to concentrate on a particular feeling, unique to your human form?" Snape suggested.

It wasn't difficult.  The best feeling in the world?  Flying, of course!  He missed Quidditch, and flying too.  He could've used the park to practice before the start of term.  There, high above the Manor, grazing the treetops, his hands gripping his broom, with the wind in his hair.

He returned from his daydream, aware that Snape was watching him with a small smile.

A satisfied smile.

Harry lifted a hand…. Yes, a hand, not a paw! He'd done it!

"My congratulations, Mr Potter, you've just accomplished your first voluntary transformation."

The boy smiled at him gratefully. Something told him it wasn't just by chance that Snape'd brought him outside for this particular lesson.

"Now, let's move on to transforming back. Take your time. Think of the difference in sensations between the two bodies, and look for a thought to channel the transition," the professor reminded him. But not that professor's voice he'd dreaded for all those years; it was the Potions master's calm voice, the one he used when he talked to the cat.

To Shadow.

What could represent Shadow? The fireplace, the jumper, the comforter, the potions…Snape. The man who'd given him all that, and who'd allowed him to feel safe for the first time in a long while.

Even if those moments were to never occur again, they'd always remain in his memory, attached to his cat form, to the incredibly pleasant feeling of having a home, of having someone.

Yes, Snape represented all that he could hope for, in his cat form.

A moment later, a green-eyed cat stared at the Potions professor, who seemed thoughtful and satisfied. Snape nodded.

"I see that you've understood. That's excellent, at least for this session. I can't confirm with any certainty that you'll always be able to control these transformations—either to avoid or elicit them—that require mastery, and a long apprenticeship…which you've been the first to dispense with altogether. But at least you have the foundation to train yourself, which you will not fail to do as often as possible. It's important that these transformations be quickly brought under control."

The speech cooled the boy's enthusiasm a bit. Evidently, it'd been too easy…  Just like the scar on his forehead, there without his consent, and it gave him powers he'd not asked for, ones he didn't control.

At least he knew where the scar had come from. As for his Animagus ability, he didn't have the slightest idea, and no one had bothered themselves to clue him in on the matter.

Focusing on the thought of flying in his teen-aged body, he tried to transform again.  To his surprise, it took more time and effort this go-around. It seemed that being upset didn't help things. He probably had to have a clear mind, like with Occlumency.

Still, Snape gave him a slight nod of approval. "It's fine, Harry. Don't be discouraged if it's not always easy. In a while, it will seem wholly natural; it's just a matter of practice, I suppose."

"Professor, there's still something I don't get about these transformations. How was all of this able to happen to me? I mean, I never set out to become… I didn't know I could do it before the night when Uncle Vernon…and…well, even afterward. I didn't really know it. Couldn't all of this come from Voldemort? A sort of trap, or a new tactic…."

Snape stared intently at the boy. He could read the anxiety in his face, the tense crease furrowing his forehead again.

How long had Harry been thinking this? Was he so used to living with the unknown that the origin of his powers was occurring to him only now?

In one of those rare instances of his life, Snape didn't know what to say.

Tell the boy the entire truth, all that Dumbledore had reported to him of his findings, and risk shocking him and opening his mind to Voldemort? For a child with no memory of his parents, to learn it had been them who'd given him this last gift, that they'd been there, they and his godfather, whose death he still cried over…

No. It wasn't the right thing to do. Not yet, not here.

But he couldn't leave him in total ignorance either, not if this would trouble him again in his transformations… and his peace of mind, for as much as he had.

"No," Snape said at last. "It's out of the question that Voldemort has anything to do with this.  Believe me, he knows nothing about your new abilities, and he would've never given you such a gift.  Because that's what this is, Harry, that you can be sure of.  Wherever it came from, it's a gift that's helped you and will help you again. An extremely precious trump card."

"Still, I'd feel better if I knew where it came from," said the boy with a sigh. "Is it possible that I've always had the ability without knowing it? Like…Parseltongue?  After all, Voldemort did give me that gift unintentionally," he said reluctantly.

Snape nodded. The boy wasn't wrong. "That's right, but the Dark Lord has never been an Animagus. Your father and godfather, on the other hand, were Animagi. If you inherited it, it could only be from them."

And unnecessary to say exactly how, the Potions master thought.

"Professor Dumbledore fully intends to figure it out and do some research on the subject as soon as he has the time. It's really something that must be found out, but we're not worried about this, Harry. You shouldn't be either."

The boy searched Snape's eyes. The tension in his shoulders seemed to lessen.

A few weeks ago, though, his professor's little speech would've only fueled his mistrust.

Over time, the virtues of fish, and evenings in front of the fireplace…..

Snape gestured toward the Manor. "Perhaps it's time to take care of that broken arm."

Harry made a face. "I suppose. I dreamt of it last night. Wasn't very pleasant," he admitted.

"No, I imagine not," Snape said.  "With an adequate potion, however, it shouldn't be painful. You mustn't hesitate to ask for it if you feel the slightest discomfort, Harry.  Your body was severely strained and weakened by your transformations. You must absolutely regain your strength before the start of term."

They slowly made their way back to the Manor, or more precisely, to the laboratory.  Did the professor sometimes use the real entryway? Harry wondered.  He doubted it.

Harry was once again about to ask him about the Manor's history, and why the Potions master had chosen such a large building, when he didn't use it.  Simple pride?  Had Snape intended to start a family?

Again, Harry didn't ask his question.  He had an idea he'd not like the answer…and that his professor wouldn't want to tell him.

They took the stairs down to the dungeon, and Harry surprised himself by being careful.  He didn’t want to change forms just now; it would be too frustrating, and Snape would be disappointed.

So what?  After all, he wasn't there to impress his professor. Well, maybe just a bit.  But only out of pride.

The smell of potions hit him, and he focused on the thought that he wanted to stand on two feet, his glasses firmly planted on his nose.

His glasses….

"Professor, when I transform into a cat, now that I’m wearing glasses again, will that make a difference?"

Snape looked at him with a slight smile. "Would you want to look like your Head of House?  No, Mr Potter, your form was fixed the first time you took it, and it will no longer change.  No circles around the eyes for you, then."

Harry smiled.  He had to admit to feeling a bit relieved.  No, he didn't particularly want to look the same as McGonagall!

"Really, as a black cat that likes living in a dungeon, surrounded by potions…  It's more as if I look like you!" the boy joked.

He didn't miss the face his professor made. Touché!

"Take care not to draw hasty conclusions, if you don't want to end up as an ingredient yourself, young man.  Cat eyes and claws are essential elements in several potions of quality, which you can't help but know, seeing that it's fourth year material," replied the Potions master.

Harry grimaced in reply, his eyes laughing.

"Sit here," Snape said more gently as he pointed to an armchair.

The boy obeyed apprehensively, then took the bottle that the professor handed to him.  More painkiller, maybe.  He swallowed it without thinking.  The thought of having an arm re-broken wasn't a nice one….

"You've done this before?" he asked nervously.

Snape lifted a mocking eyebrow.  "Broken bones? Have no fears on the matter."

Harry swallowed with difficulty. 

"Everything will be fine," the professor reassured him with his 'Shadow' voice. "I'll do it so that it's quick and painless.  Just the opposite of Potions class, in short."

Harry's eyes widened.  It was the sort of joke he could've made!  Snape had just now said something funny, and not only that, he'd poked fun at himself!

The professor sniggered softly.  "Shut your mouth, Potter, before I get the notion to make you try one of those potions that are so dear to you. And take off your t-shirt."

The boy abruptly closed his mouth, as he desperately sought for a reply.  In vain.  He quickly pulled his t-shirt over his head, trying to hide his embarrassment.  Beaten by Snape at his own game!

Beside him, the professor was murmuring spells in a low voice in the direction of his shoulder.  He finally pointed his wand and took Harry's arm in a firm grip.

"Ready, Harry?"

The boy nodded as he clenched his teeth together. This wasn't the time to make a joke….

His arm felt soft and shapeless as Snape used his fingers to prod the place where the bone had knit badly.

Without apparent effort, he pushed his fingers into the flesh to stabilize the arm, before breaking it with a sharp crack.

When he heard the sound, the teenager let out a little yelp.

"Harry?" queried the professor.

"It's all right.  I had…it was the sound, pretty impressive."

Just as it'd sounded when it'd broken the first time, he suddenly remembered.

Snape frowned, but nodded.  Once again, he murmured some spells toward the shoulder, then handed the boy a potion that he downed in a single gulp.

"Tomorrow, you'll be able to use this arm easily. While you wait, I'd prefer if you avoid using it.  Fractures that have not healed are always delicate to fix."

Harry nodded as he pulled his t-shirt on. After that scene yesterday, he hardly wanted to stay half-naked in this same chair for any longer than was necessary.  He was about to stand, but the professor stopped him with a wave of his hand, then sat in his own armchair, facing Harry.

His mocking demeanor had given way to a somber expression, all traces of the smile gone.  "Harry, there's something we must talk about."

The boy squirmed in his seat, and replied with a gesture of his hand.

"What happened this summer with your family?" the professor asked in his most neutral voice.

Harry scowled right away. "It's not important. Anyway, Dumbledore said I wouldn’t have to go back there."

"Professor Dumbledore.  No, you won't be going back, but you're well aware that you'll still have to explain to the Ministry all that went on there, aren't you?  No, just this summer—the way they treated you since you got there," Snape explained calmly.

Harry frowned as he looked at him. "What do you know about it?  It's not…what you think."

"Indeed, probably not.  And that's why I'd like you to explain it to me," answered the professor.

"Why?  What about it interests you—you in particular?" Harry felt himself becoming angry.  What was Snape going to do once he was back at Hogwarts?  What was he going to tell them there—Malfoy and the others?

"That's not what's important. What's important is that you be able to tell the Ministry people in charge of the inquiry, and it appears that might present a problem."

"I thought you used Legilimency on Uncle Vernon," Harry said.  "You know all there is to know, and even more, if you want my opinion."

"I'm probably far from knowing it all, but what I saw was enough to convince me that many assumptions about you had been terribly wrong.  And not only my own.  I cannot believe that Dumbledore knew all that went on in that house.  Why didn't you speak of it before, Harry?"

"What good would it have done?  I had to stay there because of the protections against Voldemort. Didn't matter that Vernon hates me, the wards held up…until Marge's death, in any case," the boy said reluctantly. Marge's death, yes, his fault, in short.

"And why does he hate you?" the professor asked quietly.

"For the same reason you do, bascially," grumbled the boy.  "Because of what I am, what I represent—it doesn't matter.  They never wanted me, they were forced to take me.  I tried for so long to do what was expected of me, but I can't change what I am.  That wouldn't have changed anything anyway.  They hated me too much."

"Be that as it may, they've no excuse for what they did to you, Harry.  None," Snape said gravely.

"It wasn't…it didn't happen often.  Uncle Vernon was really beside himself because of Marge's death.  I really don't know what he was thinking."

"He had enough presence of mind to beat you methodically for an extended period of time, in a way much too harsh for a child.  It was cruel, premeditated and unjustifiable.  It wasn't just an accident, Harry.  It was dreadful, and he should be called to account for it," Snape tried to explain.  The boy didn't seem to realize in the least how badly he'd been mistreated.

"It's not worth the trouble," Harry said, now nervous. "It's not as if, I dunno, I was his son or anything.  He supported me for a long time, and he truly thought I'd killed Marge."

Harry felt frustrated.  Snape didn’t want to understand.  It wasn't like he'd been part of their family, after all.

"He almost beat a child to death.  Can you find an excuse for that?"

"I'm not a child!" Harry protested. "I'm sixteen, and I've never been a child."  He felt himself flush.  The words had just slipped out.  He didn't even know why he'd said that.

But Snape didn't laugh, and he didn't lift that ironic eyebrow as he studied him.

"That's correct, Harry, you were never treated like a child, and that's regrettable.  Even if the physical mistreatment didn't start until later, the way your aunt and uncle raised you bears no resemblance to what's expected of a normal family—to know love, and care, and protection."

"They protected me," Harry murmured.

"In a way, yes, by taking you in.  But as for the rest?  Did they protect you from their little brute of a boy?  Did they treat you fairly?  Did they give you attention?  Did they ever show affection?"

The conversation was definitely extremely strange, Harry thought.  These questions, coming from Snape?

But he knew the professor was right; Harry had to get ready for that interrogation.  And somehow, here, in his armchair, with Snape, things seemed different.  The Dursleys couldn't get to him.  Not their scorn, nor their hatred, not when the Potions professor looked at him like that, so calmly.

The same look he'd had when Harry was a cat, when he was taking care of him.

It wasn't so much different from what Harry'd done earlier, when he'd had to look for the difference between his two forms. Snape had taken him in; the Dursleys had taken him in; and everything had been different.

"No," he finally said.  "No, they never showed me affection, nor attention.  And not love, for sure.  They kept me in a cupboard for eleven years. And no, that's not a metaphor," he added, when he saw the professor's eyes grow larger.

"The cupboard under the stairs, that's where I slept.  That's where they shut me in when they didn't want to see me.  It wasn't so bad, most of the time, but when I was sick or whatever, I really wanted to get out…it was suffocating.  And there was nothing to do in there; I didn't have toys or books, except for Dudley's old ones, ones he'd broken, but I had to be careful, if they saw me playing with them…oh well, they threw them away.  I got his old clothes as well."

He looked at the t-shirt he was wearing: three times too large for him, washed-out, it'd belonged to Dudley a few years ago.  He let out a small bitter laugh.

"Certain things didn't change.  But when I got my first Hogwarts letter, Uncle Vernon made me move into Dudley's second bedroom.  He was afraid of trouble, I think."

"And did they start to feed you a bit better?" Snape asked.

"Not really.  I didn't have time to find that out…because every holiday…they seemed to forget that I needed to eat."

Snape looked at the boy. He'd pulled his legs in against himself, chin propped atop his knees, and seemed lost in his memories.  Snape sighed. He hardly liked it, but he had to do it….

"About your uncle, Harry.  Did he always have this compulsion to vent his frustration on you every time something bad happened in the world?"

The boy grimaced again.  "Not really.  I mean…if something happened at the house, if Dudley did something stupid, of course it was my fault," he explained. 

Of course.

"But…he didn't hit me, not like that.  He was quick with his hand, but most of the time I managed to avoid it; a few times it happened…where he took his time, with his belt or something else.  But that almost never happened, and never like what happened this summer.  Really."  He shot Snape a sincere look, in which Snape could read guilt.

The Potions master pinched the bridge of his nose.  How could he make the boy understand that he wasn't responsible for all the misfortune in the world, and even less, most of his own?

"Harry, have you already thought about what your parents would've thought about this mistreatment?"

The boy's eyes widened.  "Not really.  I don't know, I don't remember them at all, so it's hard to imagine…."

"Do you think they would've treated you the same way, and that would've been all right?" continued the professor.

"No!  No.  I don't think so, but that's not….   Listen, Dudley was their son, and they took good care of him, they adored him, a bit too much probably.  They're not bad people, it's just that they didn't want me."

"And that's normal, is it?" Snape asked gently.

"Yes!" Harry shouted.

He hunched himself up, furious.  He hadn't wanted to answer that.  Snape….   What was he going to do with all this information?  And Harry didn't want his pity either!

But the professor held his tongue, and when the boy finally decided to look up, he saw that Snape was watching him, his face showing neither pity nor ridicule.  Just understanding and something that looked like regret.

Their eyes remained locked on each other for what seemed an eternity.  Snape didn't say anything, bit it seemed to Harry that his eyes spoke for him.  No, it wasn't normal.  Yes, you deserve a family.  Yes, you are normal.

After a long moment, it was Harry who looked down.  He felt even more tired than when he'd gone to bed the night before…and the day had only just begun.

"Many people do not see in you, nor will they ever see, the Boy Who Lived, the savior of their world, or the son of your parents," the professor said at last.  "It's enormous baggage to carry, with all that it implies.  But what they're going to think, Harry, absolutely does not define who you are or what you are worth.  Most of the bad things that happened to you were grossly unfair.  And I must admit that conversely…the credit for your victories is fully yours."

Harry wasn't very sure that he understood what the man was trying to tell him.  But it sounded good, almost like something a father could've said to a son.  Or Dumbledore.

The thought almost made the boy laugh.

Snape had gone to a lot of trouble for him, and Harry appreciated it.  But he wasn't so naïve as to imagine that he wasn't doing it on Dumbledore's orders.

No matter, it was good to be able to enjoy it.

He glanced up at the professor, who'd not looked away.

The protections due to his mother had fallen.  He'd never felt so alone.  He would've gladly welcomed protection, even of the mental sort, from anyone.  Even from Snape.

Especially from Snape. 

Harry was so tired. He wanted a break, a little break in his life, before going back to the battle, since he couldn't get out of it.

A moment later, a black cat jumped awkwardly from the armchair, and leapt to the one opposite.

The Man in Black could read in the cat's eyes all the hope and despair he was incapable of hiding at that moment.

The mans' face tensed, and he briefly closed his eyes.  For an instant, the cat thought he'd push him away, or worse, hit him.  But the hand that was raised rested lightly on his back.

The Man in Black had opened his eyes again, and he seemed as tired as the cat.

He gently lifted the cat, who weighed next to nothing, and laid it against his chest in the shelter of his arms.

Without another thought, the cat buried its head in the crook of his shoulder, and let loose a sigh.

He fell asleep, his last thought sounding like an echo in his head.

'Let me believe it for a moment…for just a moment.'

The familiar sound of clinking phials, the crackling fire, a cauldron being moved.... Harry knew right away where he was when he started to wake up.

He'd felt Snape gently move him in his sleep to his armchair, and had felt the comforting hand upon his head.

Still, something wasn't right, he just knew it. The whole time the man had held him, firmly pressed against his chest, he'd been tense. As if he were afraid of both letting him go and keeping him there

Harry stirred a bit on his jumper. He felt like he didn't have much space. Nothing surprising about that, he thought, as he noticed he'd changed forms in his sleep, and was now hunched up in the chair in his human form.

Without a sound, he looked up to the Potions master who, so like himself, was bent over a cauldron, observing the mixture as it boiled.

Was it the fume s that made his hair so greasy? the boy wondered. Another question he wasn't ready to ask his professor.

Watching him like this, moving quietly from a cauldron to an open book on the table, his movements precise and sure, Harry couldn't help but feel a vague sense of well-being spread through him.

Snape's silence had become more precious to Harry than Dumbledore's reassurances were meant to be.

"Since you're awake, Potter, come help me."

The boy jumped, startled. Potter? That wasn't a good sign. Had he gone too far earlier, searching for comfort once again from the Potions master? Come to think of it, Harry's reactions had been especially childish and over-familiar.

Harry swallowed hard as he got up.

Snape handed him a long wooden spoon without looking at him, his eyes fastened on the spell book. "Gently stir the cauldron behind you in a clockwise direction."

Harry obeyed without a word. It seemed the Potions master was annoyed and anxious. He kept bringing his hand up to his forearm.

The Death Eater Mark, Harry suddenly remembered. Had Voldemort summoned him?

"Professor," he risked saying.

It took Snape a few moments to reluctantly look away from the pages. Only then did it seem he actually noticed the boy was there. "Harry. How's your arm?" he asked, holding out a hand to verify for himself.

"Um...better, thanks. The break aches a bit, but it doesn't really hurt."

The professor frowned. "The potion's worn off. I should've woken you earlier, but you need to get your strength back. The potion I gave you to soften then regrow the bone is especially exhausting to the body."

Harry nodded; he understood better now.

"You must be hungry. You skipped the noon meal. Your plate is still up there, if you'd like it. Supper is in three hours, but it'd be best for you to get stronger more quickly," Snape continued as he finished examining his arm.

"The fracture is correctly reset. Here, drink this," he directed, giving the boy a potion. "And, ah, that one should restore your strength. But nothing takes the place of a good meal," he stopped when he saw the boy's expression.

Harry smiled slightly, but more than that, it was his eyes that smiled.

Very well. He'd deserved that. Snape knew he shouldn't let the teenager suspect him of being kind, but wouldn't it be worse to let him face this summer and his nightmares alone? So why hadn't anyone ever taken care of the boy's mental state?

Perhaps he didn't need to overprotect him like a second Molly Weasley.

But to be honest, Harry needed his care and supervision, not to mention a nutritious and balanced diet.

Oh very well, he was making too much of it. Good god, if the Dark Lord were to know a tenth of what went on here, his next Death Eater meeting might very well be his last.

By Merlin, he'd no intention of reliving the last one.

"I feel completely able to handle two meals, Professor. Would it..." Harry stopped, hesitant to continue.

"Yes, Potter? Make an effort. It's your arm that's disabled, not your brain."

"Would it bother you if I ate here?" he finally got out. "I feel more at ease here than up there, maybe because I ate most of my...bowls downstairs."

Snape stared at the boy, who had dark circles under his eyes, and was pale....

"This time. But let's not make a habit of it."

With a quick incantation, he made the plate appear on the laboratory table, and invited the boy to sit down.

"I'm sorry, I missed preparing the first two meals, Professor, really. I'll take care of supper for sure," Harry said eagerly. "If there's something else I can do...."

"Eat," grumbled the professor. "As I've already told you, you're here to regain your strength and learn to better control your transformations. We'll also see to taking up Occlumency lessons again, but I'm a bit pressed for time today."

"Professor...you don't have to.... I...."

"Of course you do," the Potions master replied sharply.

Harry cleared his throat. "Professor, I'm really, really sorry about what happened the last time. The Pensieve...I thought.... Doesn't matter. I truly regret it, I wanted you to know."

Snape let out a small snigger, his head still bent over the top of the cauldron. "Keep your apologies to yourself, Potter. Or save them for future failures. You'll be taking lessons again, you can be sure of it. And it'd be best for you to prepare seriously for them this time."

The boy sighed. "It's not that...I really know that now. It's what my father did. It was...Slytherin, I think. I don't know. Maybe I had prejudices myself as well, and in the end they had nothing to do with reality."

This time, Snape looked up, his eyes suspicious. "What do you mean by that?"

"I thought my father...everyone tells me I'm so like him, but I'd never have done such a thing. It's the sort of prank I can picture Malfoy doing, not my father or Sirius. And Remus didn't say a thing...and my mother seemed to hate him." He shook his head.

"If someone had told me that story, I would've thought the roles had been reversed, that you were the one who'd attacked my father, not the opposite. I'm sorry...I mean, for that too," he apologized. It was going from bad to worse.

But when the Man in Black abandoned his cauldron and came to sit opposite Harry, he no longer seemed angry. Instead, he was thoughtful and intrigued.

"And what did your friends think?" he asked casually.

This time, it was Harry who shot him a reproachful look. "I didn't tell them anything! No one. I didn't want them to know...about you or my father. I only talked to Sirius about it. I needed to know, you understand."

"Might I know what the mutt had to say?"

Harry sighed again. "Please...I know what he did, but he'd dead now, so...."

Snape made a move of his hand that strangely resembled a gesture of apology.

"Anyway, Sirius said they were imbeciles. That they were fifteen and that everyone is stupid at fifteen. I don't think that's true, but in a sense, it's hard to imagine my parents, and even Sirius and Remus, at fifteen."

They were silent for a long moment.

"That's correct," Snape finally said. "It's hard to imagine that we all were fifteen. And even harder still that we eventually changed."

Harry gave him a questioning look.

"I suppose it's time to leave certain things where they are, twenty years in the past," the professor concluded.

But the boy's mind seemed only partially put to rest.

Because that didn't change the most important thing, after all. His father had probably been nothing like the idea Harry had of him.

But yes, in a way, Snape was right. How important was it now, when he was dead, and at any rate would never be a part of Harry's life?

He finished his plate in silence, with his professor looking on.

"Have some fruit," Snape ordered him, pointing to the basket in the center of the table.

"Thanks," murmured the boy. "I'm really not hungry anymore."

The Potions master seemed about to say something in reply, then changed his mind.

"Very well. No more Animagus transformations today, so your arm has time to heal. You could perhaps make some headway with your homework...or assist me," he added when he saw the face the boy made.

Harry seemed all of a sudden oddly enthusiastic at the idea of brewing potions. That was a first.

"Read me this paragraph while I finish chopping these roots. Don't jump a line or miss a word."

Once again in pain, Snape raised his had to his arm. The Mark burned....not to summon him to the Dark Lord, but to remind him that he could be at any moment, and that the potions had better be ready when he was.

Oh, they would be. No negligence, ever again...no more torture again either. Not like the last time. If he had to submit to that treatment a second time, he wasn't certain he'd manage to keep his mental barriers intact until the end. And if he allowed but a single gap, then Harry would be in grave danger.

And Snape would die for certain. Not that it mattered that much from then on, but he had to finish what he'd started.

He listened to Harry reading the paragraph to him, his voice calm and clear. The boy was full of good will...and willingness, full stop. Enough to follow his destiny to the very end, if he were given the chance.

But he wasn't so sure that from here on out Voldemort would be the boy's chief problem. If no one was vigilant, he'd be in considerable danger of breaking down alone, a victim of his own anxiety.

Snape shook his head. Dumbledore was an old fool. He was too obsessed with his war to notice that his hero was on the verge of losing his own war....

"Go and get me two griffin feathers from the cupboard, first shelf, third jar on the right. That's it. Cut off the tuft and throw it in the cauldron. Perfect."

Perfect? It had to be the first time Snape had admitted that a Gryffindor could do something correctly. When Snape wasn't shouting, brewing a potion was almost pleasant, especially since he couldn't take points or give him detention...or could he?

Whatever the case, the Manor dungeon was much more pleasant than the one at Hogwarts.

For the first time in his life, Harry wasn't in such a hurry to return to the castle. He'd miss the peaceful ambiance of the laboratory, and Snape as well...his Snape.

Harry was apprehensive about seeing his professor take up his hated role of tyrant again. To have himself called out and insulted again, after all that'd happened. He really didn't want to think about it. He'd have plenty of time to bite his fingernails over his attitude later on.

"Professor," he asked after two hours of peaceable stirring, reading and cutting, "if it doesn't bother you, could I start to make supper?"

"Excellent idea. You'll find all you need in the kitchen. The menu is up to you."

Harry nodded, and with a happy smile, headed for the kitchen. It was now or never to impress the professor.

He quickly rummaged in the cupboards to come up with an idea. Something he'd never eaten at Hogwarts...that the Dursleys had served to their guests... What had he cooked the last time Uncle Vernon had given a party?

A stupid paella. Nothing very brilliant.... But that would do the trick!

The boy set rapidly to work, looking for ingredients and utensils. Nothing was missing...except for an oven. How in the devil was he....

Oh. The fireplace. Okay, he could make do with that. Wizards probably used spells to fix all that, but he wasn't afraid of the challenge. He'd pull a paella out of this cauldron, even it he had to use pure Dark Magic spells to do it.

An hour later, Harry was contemplating the worship of gas stoves and microwave ovens, but the table was set, and a steaming, appetizing dish was waiting when Snape finally appeared, obviously curious about the result.

"Well, I see wizarding cooking has no secrets from you. Should I be thanking Mrs Weasley?" he asked with a slight smile.

"I would've liked her help," the boy grumbled. "It's a good old-fashioned Muggle meal. I I'm sorry to say electric ovens are something wizards ought to discover right away."

Snape laughed softly. "Victus Cocere is a good spell for basic cooking. Adaptable to the dish...."

Harry sighed. "I'll try to remember that."

The two of them took their seats at the table, and Harry did the serving honors, worrying over the professor's verdict.

A few mouthfuls later, his wait was finally over.

"I have to say that given your Potions' marks, I'd've never suspected your ability to cook, Potter. You've gone up in my esteem. I'm almost sorry about the anti-poison potion I took just before coming up."

Relieved, the boy smiled. "So change that to a digestive potion. I was a bit heavy-handed on the quantity...."

"All the better. I won't have to beg for more tomorrow at lunch."

It was probably the greatest compliment that the professor had ever given him, and Harry couldn't help but feel proud.

Snape must've noticed, because his slight smile, which he'd only begun to wear recently, returned instantly. "You've just earned the right to cook more often than when it's your turn. If this first attempt isn't a happy coincidence, I could go so far as to reconsider the results of your recent exams."

Harry's eyes widened. Was he serious? He really needed to continue with Potions if he wanted to become an Auror.

"Yes, sir!" Without daring to add anything, out of fear he'd change his mind, Harry returned to his plate. If he'd known, he'd've made dessert as well!

Snape smiled to himself as he saw the hopeful twinkle in Harry's eyes. The boy was an open book, and an excellent cook, by the way. Evidently with a great deal of practice under his belt. Certainly another legacy of his childhood at the Dursleys'.

But for now, he certainly wasn't going to blame them.

If only the sharp, shooting pain in his Mark had stopped, the day would've almost been pleasant.

He sighed.

"Harry, I must finish potions tonight. I'll be downstairs if you need something. You have free rein this evening, provided you stay in the Manor and don't put a strain on your arm. There are some books in the library that might interest you.... Your meal was excellent. Thank you."

The boy hesitated for an instant. "Thank you.... Would it bother you if I read down there? I promise not to disturb you. I can help you if you like."

Snape hesitated for a moment. No, he shouldn't let the boy get attached...but he preferred keep an eye on him. One never knew what could happen.

"Very well. Go find a book and meet me down there."

The boy smiled gratefully. "Thanks!" he said as he hurried off for the library.

The Potions master turned to head for his laboratory, slightly perturbed. That hadn't gone as he'd wanted it to.

The boy was so used to being pushed away that he hardly paid attention, and on the contrary, considered the slightest sign of attention as a favor. In these circumstances, how was he supposed to maintain his role as the cold and distant professor? It was pitiful.

And the pain in his arm was making him nervous. The Dark Lord was frustrated and agitated, he was sure of it. Had he sensed something? Was he trying to break through to the boy's mind? The potions he'd made Harry drink seemed to be working.

He had to keep an eye on the boy at all times...this equilibrium was much too fragile, Harry much too unstable....

Snape ground his teeth. Let Dumbledore hurry and find a solution. And let this bloody affair be wrapped up as soon as possible and be done with.

In the evening of an almost perfect day, he couldn't help but feel the shadows close in around the Manor. And they weren't there to hide them from Voldemort's eyes.

A few minutes later, as he checked the cauldrons, he heard the boy slip soundlessly into the laboratory, careful not to disturb Snape. He curled up peacefully in his armchair, and opened the book. Snape almost expected to hear him purr....

He was rapidly becoming as accustomed to the boy's presence as he was to the cat's. It was best that he concentrate on the idea of the cat. The Dark Lord wouldn't be long in calling him. The burning in his Mark had intensified as the day had gone by; he'd have to talk to Albus about it.

But did Dumbledore have the slightest idea of how to proceed? He'd sent Harry to the Manor, knowing full well what a risk that was for the boy, as well as for Snape.

Did he know what he was doing? Was he content to trust him? Did he realize how upset Harry was by all of this?

But for now, Harry was dozing off in front of the fireplace, just like any other boy on holiday, without a care in the world.

Yes, this day hadn't been a bad one. Something told him that they'd done well to make good use of it, and his spy's instincts rarely let him down.

He kept an eye on the boy as he worked. It didn't take long for the book to finally fall to his lap, and his head to the arm of the chair.

The Cat Who Wasn't One had fallen peacefully to sleep.

As Snape had feared, this tranquil sleep didn't last long. The boy hadn't been asleep a half-hour before Snape heard him moan as he dreamed.

Worried, Snape went to him: his facial features contorted, his fists hands balled into fists, and he seemed to be suffering, but probably not physically. The professor hesitated; should he wake him?

"Sirius...no...."

Black. So that was it.

Snape sighed. The dream had probably not been sent by Voldemort. Without making any noise, the man sat on the arm of the chair and lightly placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Everything's fine, Harry. You're safe."

It was the truth, after all. At that exact moment, everything was still all right.

The moaning stopped, but the boy's face remained tense.

"There, there, Harry, for tonight, all will be well. Go back to sleep."

All of the sudden, Snape caught himself checking the Manor wards. No, no one had tried to breach them. And no one had heard him.... Merlin, was he still a fifteen-year-old, afraid that his little friends would make fun of him in front of the class?

They could go to hell, he didn't give a damn. As long as Harry calmed down, let the entire Order of the Phoenix wear their little knowing smiles if they wanted.

Running a hand through his hair, he felt the boy relax, little by little, even as his own body began to relax.

What if Lily had lived? If he'd not said that word...if he'd not joined the Death Eaters....

This black-haired boy would've been slightly different, but perhaps not all that much, after all?

Snape would've stayed awake at night to rock him when was a baby. He would've applauded his first steps, and he would've taught him how to fly a broom.

He would've never allowed him to lack for food or affection.

Lily would've never left him to cry alone. She would've laughed at his nonsense, and she would've tucked him in each night.

They would've both gone with him to platform nine and three-quarters, and they would've waved to him as he left, pretending they weren't sad.

There would've never been a question of beatings with a belt, nor of a cupboard. No threat of death or of basilisks.

He would've been Harry Snape, and he would've been happy. Snape would've made sure of it.

But for now, there was only a Severus Snape and a Harry Potter-whose hope to remain alive was the subject of wagering in Diagon Alley-and their existence was summed up by doing their best to save the world with what they had.

And Lily slept in her tomb at Godric's Hollow.

Even so, Lily had left it, it appeared, in time to grace her son with a new ability, and to entrust him to her former childhood friend.

It was only a little cat. It was but a boy.

Perhaps, if they survived this vacation, all would not be lost.

The boy's breathing was even and regular for now, his face calm.

"Try to have good dreams, Harry. I'm here...."

He quietly left the armchair, leaving the boy to sleep.

The potions risked keeping him up at night...all the better. He'd make sure Harry didn't suffer through another nightmare, that he not be left alone for a single moment to face them. Perhaps he'd eventually not have them anymore? It was still his best protection against Voldemort.

When daylight broke through the basement window, he'd comforted the boy two more times, and the potions were ready. He was finally going to be able to sleep....

But first, the sunrise.

Without making a sound, he took the stairs, which a few weeks earlier had led him to a black cat trembling in front of his door.

That morning seemed so far away now...but this morning was hazy too, and the Mark on his arm had never stopped burning.

The sun finally came up, pale and indistinct...disappointing.

Very well, he thought, so much for going to sleep. Downstairs, the boy hadn't budged, and seemed to be sleeping soundly now. With a quick spell, Snape made sure he wouldn't wake up, then bent down to lift him up. He could've pushed him to transform into a cat again...but after all, he still wasn't so old, nor the boy so heavy, that he'd not be able to carry him like that!

Harry probably wouldn't like what he'd done, but that truly made no difference to them now!

The Potions master laid the boy in his bed, adjusted the covers and ended with a charm that would warn him if Harry had another nightmare.

Somewhat reassured, he verified one last time that the wards around the Manor were strong and intact, then retired to his own room.

All would be well. He would've liked for someone to reassure him that all would be well.

But whatever the shadows pressing in upon the Manor, the Potions master fell asleep when his head had scarcely hit the pillow.

And for the last time in a long time to come, Severus Snape slept the sleep of the just, confidant of having done his best.

oooOOOooo

The first question that occurred to Harry that morning wasn't to know where he was, but how he'd managed to get there.

He recalled having chosen a book from Snape's library, rather randomly, really, something on the history of magic in Ireland. Then he'd gone down to the laboratory, had settled himself in front of the fireplace and had probably fallen asleep. When had he gone back up to his room, and how the blazes could he be here, tucked in his bed?

He opened the curtains he'd not pulled shut the night before.

The sun was already high in the sky, so it must be mid-morning. Snape was surely awake.

Snape.

Who besides the professor could've got him back up to his room? He seemed to remember having heard his voice through his dreams, having felt his presence.

But he'd not had nightmares last night, not really. He'd dreamt of his parents.

He was almost certain of it...

Could Snape be right, had he inherited his new ability from them? He'd clearly seen his mother's face that night, and she'd been worried. She'd repeated over and over for him to be a good cat.... A cat. His father had transformed over and over into a stag, his eyes riveted to Harry's, as if showing him how to do it.

He'd wanted to tell them that he knew already, that Snape had explained to him, but he couldn't talk, the fog was so thick and he couldn't speak a word.

And Sirius...he'd seen him as well, later. Or earlier? In his dog form, he barked furiously and refused to listen to Harry's excuses. He wanted at all costs to show him something, to take him somewhere...but Harry didn't understand.

These dreams were truly bizarre, suffused with fog, in what seemed to be the park....

Harrry shivered.

If Snape was awake, he'd find him in the dungeon, and he could talk to him about these dreams. Maybe they had something to do with what was happening to him?

He groped for his glasses, and his hand bumped against two bottles standing on his bedside table. The same ones Snape was making him drink three days a day. He swallowed them down quickly, and felt his mind clear, as the dreams faded.

Only dreams, after all. Surely. But all the same....

He slipped to the stairway, pricking up his ears to listen for the familiar sounds.

But all was silent, and his light knocks on the wooden door echoed in the emptiness. No answer.

Intrigued, he decided not to pursue it. What time had Snape gone to bed? Had he stayed and slept in his armchair?

He stopped for a moment at the door to Snape's room, listening for the sound of breathing. He heard nothing, but he sensed the man's presence behind the door.

No reason to disturb him over dreams that Voldemort had surely not sent. It was a good chance for him to fix breakfast!

Harry'd hardly had time to finish setting the table when the Potions professor appeared, sufficiently awake that it seemed as if he'd been up for hours. The boy smiled; could it be that Snape was in a foul mood on awakening, if only for five little minutes, his eyes blurry and his hair unruly, without his mask of uncompromising professor?

No, probably not. Snape was a sort of robot that surely slept with his wand in his hand, laid out on his bed like an 'I'!

"Hullo, Professor!" he said as he handed him a plate of hot pancakes.

"Already at the stove?" he replied as he took hold of the dish. "Did you find the potions I left on the bedside table?"

"Yes, thanks. I'm sorry, I think I fell asleep, um, downstairs last night."

Snape waved with a hand as he took a mouthful of pancake.

"Let's go over your programme for the day. You must work on your transformations, and we'll go to the park to start. I also want you to get ready for the start of term; there's only a week and a half left. If we have time, we'll start in on Occlumency lessons again this evening. Until then, I'd like you to practice a few meditation exercises. Any comments?"

Harry grimaced as he served the tea. "No, sir. Outside of the fact that I've never done meditation."

"That won't be a problem. I'll give you some instructions, and you'll go practice in the park, in the same place as the other day. You can consider the clearing as your training place, in general."

The boy nodded thoughtfully.

His training place? Snape had got it ready for him? He'd probably know soon enough.

"And Harry, if you like, you must not hesitate to take the Dreamless Sleep. That could only help for you to concentrate during the day."

The dreams of last night came back to him. Should he talk to the professor about them? That had been his first inclination, but what to say to him...that his mother wanted him to transform into a cat, that his father transformed over and over, and that Sirius was barking in the park? No, it was ridiculous....

But he didn't want to get rid of these dreams either. They'd seemed so real! He didn't remember having dreamt of his parents so clearly beforehand. Usually they were just vague shapes that gestured to him from far away....

He shook his head. "No, thanks. I prefer...I'm used to..." he finished.

Snape seemed annoyed, but let the matter go.

"Very well, go take a shower, and then join me in the laboratory in a half-hour. Brush your teeth."

Harry grumbled. "Yeah, I know, sardines...."

And as he got up to go to his room, he found himself exchanging a knowing look with the professor.

A few meters farther away, a black cat meowed in frustration; no, really, it was irritating to no longer have control over his own body. He had to quickly do something about it; if something like this ever happened to him during a Quidditch match. Merlin, he'd die of shame!

He galloped toward his room, defusing his frustration with feline leaps. Arriving at the door to his room, he focused: Quidditch, flying...success!

It wasn't so hard, after all, he just had to avoid thinking of Snape as someone...nice? Reassuring? If the professor came to suspect that he found him 'nice', he could be sure of cleaning cauldrons for the next two years.

And yet. Had Snape really tucked him in? If Ron were to know that, Harry would never sleep peacefully in Gryffindor Tower again.

But Ron wouldn't find out a thing. This was his Snape, and it was good that way. The Snape at Hogwarts...would be what he would be.

While the steam filled the bathroom, Harry began to think of his dreams again. The fog that shrouded them made the terrain confusing, but he was convinced as he thought of them again that it was the clearing where Snape had taken him.

Was this his subconscious at work? He'd talk to Hermione about it; she'd surely have an answer.

After all, wasn't it his bracelet that'd led him here?

He dried off quickly before returning to the dungeon. Snape seemed to intend to make him work hard, and he really wanted to prove to him that he was worthy of another chance. If he could ever bring his Potions marks back up, that would change everything!

Surviving this summer would already be a good start, come to think of it. Whatever happened, it would most certainly be his strangest summer up until now.

The dungeons were very busy this time, filled with their usual activity. Harry smiled...he had to train, right?

Without a sound, he changed into the cat and quietly approached the Potions master.

Taking advantage of a moment when the professor had his hands empty, he leapt agilely to his shoulder, making him startle.

Snape closed his eyes for a second, before seizing him by the skin of his neck.

"On my life, I've never seen such a fleabag! You think you're funny, Potter? If I'd not heard you come back, you'd already have a broken neck and be roasting slowly in the fireplace! Does the idea still seem so entertaining?"

He put the cat on the floor and Harry hastily retook his human form, sheepish.

"Sorry...it was just to show you..." he stammered.

"That you know how to act like a circus animal? I never doubted it, Potter! And I'm still more than convinced that you should be boarding in a circus school and not at Hogwarts. You should show Dumbledore that little trick, you'd be doing me a favor," replied the Potions master icily.

Harry swallowed with difficulty. So much for joking. He wasn't there to have fun. Definitely not, given the professor's irritated expression.

"But since you're sure of your momentum, let's see how many times it'll take you to execute three back-and-forths. Now!"

The boy took a step backward, and focused.

One time. Two times. Three times. Four...five...

The cat fell heavily onto its posterior, gasping for breath. He felt as if he'd played a Quidditch match with at least four Bludgers in play...

"That's all?" Snape asked, watching him with his arms crossed.

The cat shot him a murderous look. Let the professor amuse himself by transforming into a bat five times and they'd talk about it...though he doubted that transformation would take much effort!

"Very well, it's perhaps time to move on to another lesson. In the park."

Harry got up, wobbling a bit on his legs, then headed for the stairway.

Before he was able to reach them, he felt a hand lift him and then found himself in the professor's arms as he was already on the steps.

"Senseless to put too much of a strain on this broken paw. Nothing worse than steps," he justified himself.

The cat perked up its ears. Was Snape suddenly feeling remorse?

Outside, the fog valiantly resisted the morning. Harry quivered; when it was like this, the place seemed so much like his dream.

All of a sudden, he sensed that his mother would've been relieved to see him in this form, and he himself felt strangely more confident: he was faster, smaller and more agile.

Snape set him on the ground and gestured for him to follow. "We're going to make use of your cat form to test your performance. I'd like you to jump up on the stone wall."

The wall in question was narrow, and to balance himself there wasn't easy, but the cat managed to make it after a moment's hesitation. Snape nodded approvingly. "To the first tree branch now."

Curiously, Harry had no trouble climbing into the tree like a cat, all of his claws out. His instincts were amazing even to himself!

On the other hand, the branch seemed much higher, seen from atop it.

He shot Snape a questioning look.

"Come down the same way, using the trunk, it'll be safer."

Him, who already hated going down stairs. He'd barely lowered his head and stretched out a tentative paw, when he changed his mind. Still better to jump, it'd be quicker.

Snape saw him crouch in order to jump, and stopped him with a gesture. "No! No jumping with your broken paw!"

Harry relaxed his muscles and cast him a mocking look. If he had to spend the day in the tree, a lot of good it'd do him!

"Must I call for help, Harry?"

His professor's taunting expression gave him the sudden whim to use the man as his landing point, but he had to take care if he wanted to see his Potions mark go up. His performance of a while ago hadn't been overly appreciated.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

A moment later, the cat gently touched down on the ground.

"Very well, since your reflexes seem more like those of a lap-cat than a lion. Let's see what you have in the way of hunting instincts."

Murmuring a spell, the professor made a small, glowing, lively ball appear, which moved quickly to hiss under the cat's nose. His paw shot out into the air, narrowly missing the ball. All his energy suddenly restored, he was off on the chase, moving in leaps and spins, tapping the ball often without managing to capture it.

Finally, trapping it with his two paws, he succeeded in pinning it to the ground, and the ball disappeared.

"One hundred-fifty points to Gryffindor. Perfect, I see that this part won't present a problem," Snape said ironically.

The cat blinked. Being a cat didn't mean he was about to let the Golden Snitch get away!

The exercises continued, testing the agility and speed of the cat, forcing him to use all the abilities of his form. As lithe and agile as he was, it wasn't, however, always easy to coordinate paws, tail and head.

The morning passed quickly, with the professor seeming satisfied with his progress, dispensing advice and sometimes encouragement that never failed to surprise Harry.

"Very well, it's time to return to fix lunch," the professor finally said. "You can resume your normal form."

Harry didn't have to be told twice; he needed to talk. "Professor, how long do you think I'll be able to keep my new abilities secret?"

"Not much longer than these holidays, I'm afraid. I unfortunately don't think you'll be able to completely control the transformations. There'll come a time when things get away from you and you'll change in spite of yourself. In a castle full of students, I doubt that'll go unnoticed."

"But isn't there a way to block the transformations? A potion, a spell..?" the boy asked.

"That wouldn't be desirable. There's actually a potion that hinders the Animagus effects, but it's only temporary, and can't be taken on a permanent basis. You'll probably end up using it shortly, at the Ministry."

Harry frowned. "For the Dursleys. You...you really think they made a deal with Voldemort, don't you?" he asked hesitantly.

Snape turned to him and looked him directly in the eyes. "Yes, I'm certain of it. Whether the Dark Lord offered them money or something else, I think he indeed made a proposition to your family and they accepted it. They didn't seem very eager...to see you come back when I visited them."

"No, I suspected as much," murmured the boy. "I still didn't think...doesn't matter. The protection from my mother definitely fell, didn't it? It won't come back, even if they want to take me?"

Severus clenched his teeth. "No, Harry. Their feelings for you have betrayed the blood link. It's definitely fallen."

"I see. Will I...will I really have to see them again, at the Ministry?" His voice was almost begging.

"I'm afraid so," Snape replied calmly. "Professor Dumbledore will do all that he can to avoid this confrontation, but it mustn't be forgotten that numerous Ministry officials are controlled by the Dark Lord. Whatever the case, be assured that they'll not be able to do you any harm. Albus would never allow it."

Harry didn't answer, but nodded.

Finally, he asked, "Will you be there as well?"

The professor took a long while before he answered. "If you like, yes, I'll go along with you."

The boy felt a weight leave him. Small, but significant. Snape would know what to tell him to do when the appointed time came. He wouldn't have to prove that he was able to manage on his own. He truly didn't think he had the courage to do it.

"Thanks."

Snape nodded.

"Do you think that my aunt..." the boy abruptly said, then sighed. "No, forget it. It's not important."

"That your aunt what?" the professor insisted.

"That's she in on it too...or is it just Uncle Vernon?" Harry finished reluctantly.

Severus mulled over his answer for a moment. "Harry, I don't think your aunt was dragged into this affair against her will. She didn't strike me as the type of person to go along unwillingly. I've good reason to believe that it was she whom the Dark Lord contacted first."

Harry abruptly lifted his head to stare at him. For an instant, Snape thought he was about to say something, but his face dropped and he started at his shoes.

"I'm sorry," said the professor.

"Uncle Vernon hated me, that's all right. But I thought that even if she didn't love me, since she'd known my mother.... I guess that doesn't mean anything. Family's what one makes of it, after all."

The bitterness and resignation in his voice surprised Snape. What had become of the boy who shrugged off all criticism? So...Snape had been wrong on another point.

This trial should be neither slapdash nor hasty. The boy still realized only half of what'd happened to him.

"The family they offered you wasn't one, Harry. You only have to look at the Weasley family to realize that."

"What'll happen to them if they don't manage to get Voldemort what he asked them to? Will they be in danger?"

Snape grumbled. "I don't see why you should concern yourself with that. But to answer you, it's likely that he won't do anything to them, as long as they pose a potential threat for you."

Harry felt his stomach knot. How utterly nasty his life was!

"But Harry, you can be certain that we'll not let anything happen to you. In any event." The professor's voice was gentle and reassuring as he looked Harry in the eyes.

The boy held his gaze for a long moment, and Snape could see all the doubt, all the pain and insecurity that the teenager was struggling to face. And also the remains of hope, and the desire to believe in something...in someone.

But wasn't it too late?

Harry severed the connection with a nod of his head. "Thanks for everything. I know you hate me, you too, and in a way, it's reassuring to know that despite that, you don't plan to hand me over to Voldemort. Or kill me. Or I don't know, take points," Harry said with a grimace, trying to make his declaration less pathetic.

"No," replied the professor.

"Oh, well, thanks," said the boy, a bit upset now.

"No. I don't plan to hand you over to the Dark Lord, and no, I don't hate you," he said in a harder voice. How was he supposed to handle this?

"I know, I mean, you don't like me, or, I don't know...doesn't matter. Thanks all the same."

Snape groaned and fidgeted for a moment; he had to do it-if the boy had to trust him, he didn't want him to see him as another Vernon, and by Merlin, Harry would certainly need to trust him if he wanted to stay alive until the start of term.

He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to force him to turn and face him. He had no intention of allowing this little speech to be interrupted.

Harry looked up at him, surprised.

"Harry, listen to me well. You're not here because I was forced to take you. Certain of my opinions about you since you arrived at Hogwarts have proved to be decidedly false, and, it seems, very far from the truth. Sometimes, wounds from the past don't allow us to see things the way they really are...or to at least give them a chance. It's a mistake that I regret, one that is no longer in play. You are neither your father, nor your mother, nor that spoiled little boy, proud and insolent, that you would've been if everything had been as I'd imagined it. You, what you are...there's nothing there I could hate. I regret not having understood it before."

The boy's expression, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, was in the end wholly worth the cost to his pride of having said his mea culpa in front of James Potter's son.

When he could finally get a word out, the boy was unable to find a thing to say that would truly express what he was thinking. At that instant, he was absolutely incapable of rational thought.

"Th...thanks," he managed to stammer.

"Your favorite word, it would seem. There's no need to thank me. Rather the opposite,a seems to me... Now, time to cook."

By all appearances, the boy had been shocked by Snape's confession, so it was best to occupy his mind before he began to think too much of the implications.

"Oh, and one last thing. If you really need to jump to my shoulders in your cat form, for one reason or another, think about making it the left one. I'm right-handed," he said casually as he flicked his wand.

Without really knowing why, the idea made Harry burst into laughter. Snape smiled at him, and time, which had seemed to stop, suddenly took up again.

But bizarrely, the seconds no longer seemed to tumble together.

A few moments later, Harry had found his usual sprit and voice again, as Snape gave him a demonstration of wizarding cooking. The spells were truly incredible, and he was going to save an obscene amount of time. He was going to be able to launch himself into more complicated recipes and really impress the Potions master.

He truly intended on bringing up his Potions mark, and all the while make the professor gain a bit of weight; Harry wasn't the only one here who needed to eat better.

The meal was appreciated by both parties, and even Snape's interrogation on his homework didn't manage to spoil the boy's good mood. Not only did the professor prepare a full schedule for him for that afternoon, but his knowledge of the programmes also allowed him to tell Harry which chapters to begin to study, to best prepare him for the start of term.

Afterwards, sated, they opted for a break to digest their food, in the shelter of the dungeon, before returning to work.

Each seated in his armchair, with a book in hand, they seemed lost in their thoughts.

Was this holiday truce going to last?

Would the boy succeed in regaining his trust in him before the start of term?

Would Occlumency lessons work this time?

An hour passed tranquilly. With a sigh, Snape closed his book. "To work. Go and get your books and set yourself up where you like. The library is well-lit at this time of day." But as he'd expected, the boy looked at him pleadingly.

"I can stay here?"

"May I stay here."

"May I stay here, please, Professor?" Harry asked again in his politest tone of voice.

Snape nodded, refusing to admit his satisfaction. "Very well. Go get what you need and try to concentrate. Don't hesitate to ask if you have questions."

The boy smiled and took off at a run up the staircase. He was at least halfway up the steps when he suddenly found himself on four paws, smaller and his vision sharper.

Okay, okay, Snape was right, he was going to need a great deal of training and concentration, as well as not thinking of Snape like a nice uncle who'd indulge all his little whims. Uncles weren't nice, that was a proven fact.

The afternoon passed peacefully, and Harry was surprised to find that it really was much easier to concentrate here, in the dungeon, than in Hogwarts library. Maybe because he didn't have Ron at his side to talk to about Quidditch, or Hermione to correct him at every turn.

Snape himself took the time to explain the points on which Harry had doubts, but refused to give him the answers.

When the sunlight started to fade, Harry let out a satisfied sigh. Half of his holiday homework was done.

As for Snape, he'd not once left his work table. The potions he was preparing seemed particularly complicated to Harry, but the professor hadn't stopped for a second. Outside of a few questions the boy'd asked him, the only thing that seemed to exist at that moment were the potions being brewed and the Mark on his arm.

Harry couldn't help but notice that the professor rubbed it more and more often, without seeming to pay attention to it. If the tension in his face and hand were anything to go by, it had to still be hurting him....

"Finished, Harry?" he asked, when he saw the boy had closed his books.

The teenager nodded. "I've made progress on half my homework. This'll be the very first time I'll be handing them in finished the right way," he said with a grimace. The Potions professor was in a position to know that!

But Snape smiled slightly. "Leave them on the table, I'll check them over later."

"Check them?" Harry spluttered.

"Certainly, Mister Potter. The entire faculty at Hogwarts will know all too soon that you've spent a part of your summer here. Out of the question for you to hand in bad homework written under my watch."

The boy frowned. "No one ever checks my homework, if that'll make you feel better. I don't think anyone would imagine you were going to correct what I write!"

"Well, they're wrong," Snape concluded firmly and decisively. "For now, I suggest you go take a turn in the park. Stay within sight of the Manor, on the path that goes around the house. When you're feeling more rested, you'll be able to go to the clearing where you trained this morning, to practice the relaxation exercises I told you about."

"All right," Harry said, thinking that a few turns around the Manor would probably be necessary after Snape's revelation about his homework. "What exactly does that consist of?"

"Nothing very elaborate, I assure you. For this time, simply seat yourself comfortably, close your eyes, and take deep breaths. Focus on your breathing and try to empty your mind, and relax your body."

"Hmmm. If I don't fall asleep first, I think I should be able to manage that."

"Good. Come back in an hour, two if you need it. Take your time, but do all that you can to think of nothing. I've already seen you do it in Potions class, so it shouldn't give you major problems."

With that last cutting remark, Harry rolled his eyes and left, exchanging a slight smile with Snape, who'd not let go of his bottles.

If only the professor would wear that reassuring smile in class, his sarcasm wouldn't be so disagreeable.

Relaxing and letting his mind empty weren't as difficult as he'd first thought. Of course, there was Voldemort, the Dursleys, the Ministry....

But there was also the sun, the park, and the dreams he'd had the night before. His mother and father had seemed real, close to him, and Sirius, even though he'd barked, hadn't seemed angry with him. It'd been the first time Sirius hadn't come to reproach Harry for his death.

But still....

At last, satisfied with his relaxation session, he decided to go back to the dungeon earlier than expected. Snape would probably be happy to save some time....

Assuming his cat form, he backtracked to the dungeon. The door was closed, but before he had time to take his human form, a familiar voice escaped through the half-open window, making him stop in his tracks.

Dumbledore was there, downstairs, with Snape, and the conversation seemed agitated.

"It's out of the question! He's not ready!" hissed Snape's voice.

"My boy, be reasonable. He'll never be ready for this," replied the conciliatory voice of Dumbledore.

"You don't understand. Harry must face many things: his childhood, the betrayal of his family, his new abilities...he's bewildered and that's very understandable. He needs a bit of time to get himself together before having to face all of that!"

"Ideally, that would be the case. But the sooner we dispense with this trial, the sooner Harry will be in relative safety."

"He has nightmares every night, Albus! He refuses to let it show, but he's terrified at the prospect of seeing his family again!"

"Severus, your worry is to your credit, but Harry's nightmares are not a recent thing. He's had them regularly for years."

"And that didn't bother you unduly? What are you thinking, then, to throw your hero in the lion's den when he doesn't have the strength to overcome his own traumas? Albus, this isn't like you."

Snape's voice was impassioned, and Harry stood, frozen to the spot.

Dumbledore appeared to have a reaction similar to Harry's. "I see that dealing with Harry has fortunately made you change your opinion concerning him," he said gently.

Snape grumbled, "My opinion is of no importance; anyone would see that this boy needs much more than the minimal safety that you offer him. He needs time and support to get back on his feet. I won't let you throw him unprepared into one of these ambushes organized under the control of the Dark Lord! He's a brave boy, and he's doing his best to make a good impression and not disappoint those who believe in him, but he's just a sixteen year old teenager who never had a childhood, Albus. You entrusted me with his care for the remainder of the holidays, so trust me to the end!" Severus almost begged.

"I don't have a choice. The hearing is set for tomorrow. And that's the final date before the Ministry undertakes sterner measures. I'll come to collect Harry tomorrow morning."

Harry heard Snape pacing in the laboratory, obviously furious. "I'll go with him. He'll take an Anti-Animagus potion to avoid transforming during the course of the trial. And whether you like it or not, Albus, Harry will be returning with me to the Manor at the end of the hearing. It's out of the question that he spend the night anywhere else, even more so in that place!"

"I'm finding you all of the sudden very protective of the boy, Severus. Not that I reproach you for that," Dumbledore said softly.

"Someone has to protect him," said the professor sharply. "You're determined to consider him an adult, responsible and able to face his fate alone. You're wrong. And if no one's able to see him as he really is, to recognize a teenager who's full of self-doubts and who's struggling to hide the little, traumatized boy, then yes, I'll do it. Whatever the cost."

"I understand," Dumbledore murmured, "probably not as well as you, I'm well aware. But I understand what you mean. I don't intend to take Harry away from you for the rest of the summer; indeed, he seems to be doing completely fine here. You have my complete trust, Severus, as always."

"And yet, you don't want to have the date of the hearing changed," Snape said between his teeth.

"No. I have my reasons, my boy...and they're as valid as your own. I will come for Harry tomorrow, then. Trust me...one more time," said Dumbledore gently.

Snape nodded reluctantly. A moment later, Harry heard Dumbledore announce the location of his office at Hogwarts, and the voices fell silent. Cautiously, he drew near to the window, and could see Snape sitting in his armchair, legs crossed, chin resting in his hand as he darkly watched the flames, obviously upset.

Harry pulled away.

He knew, since Snape had told him, that the professor no longer hated him. He'd also understood that the man seemed determined to take care of him, since he'd gone so far as to tuck him into bed, something no one had ever done before him.

But what he'd said to Dumbledore.... The boy decided that he finally needed a bit more time to empty his mind.

He returned soundlessly to the clearing, where he retook his human form.

Snape...the Potions professor who'd always been the first to make him feel miserable, who never missed an opportunity to throw his pampered existence in his face....

Who'd saved him more than once at Hogwarts.

And who now was accusing Dumbledore of not seeing him for who he was, and who'd asked for Harry to have more time to pull himself together, who spoke of him as a courageous boy...

Who stood up to Dumbledore for him. Who wanted to protect him.

And without having been ordered to do it....

Harry knew that Snape was right, that he should've been worried about the trial the next day, but he cared nothing about it just now. Someone wanted to take care of him. Someone defended him. Someone didn't see in him just his role in the war.

And for the first time since Sirius' death, Harry suddenly felt happy. Truly happy. Even if tomorrow Voldemort should finally capture him, if Vernon beat him again, if he were to find himself shut up in a cupboard....

Well, someone would be worried about him. Him. Not the war. Him.

An hour later, he headed at last for the dungeons, in good spirits. He found Snape there, just as he'd left him a few hours earlier, leaning over a cauldron, as if Dumbledore had never come.

Was he even going to talk to him about it? Probably not before the Occlumency session; he'd probably think that the news would upset him too much. He wasn't wrong, basically.

"Professor?"

"Harry. Did you succeed in doing what I asked of you?" His voice was perfectly calm and even. The boy couldn't help but feel a certain admiration for the professor. Without a doubt, his role as a spy suited him wonderfully.

"I think so."

"Very good. Go sit in your armchair."

A moment later, Snape came and sat opposite him.

"I want you to focus on emptying your mind while I reach out for one of your thoughts. You must make it disappear before I have time to take hold of it. Ready?"

Harry nodded.

"Legilimens!"

A moment later, Harry found himself at the Dursleys'. He was eight years old, he'd just finished scrubbing the kitchen floor, and Dudley and his friends were coming in with their muddy shoes...an instant after, Petunia was shouting at him for his shoddy work. He groaned...too late to avoid that one.

Snape moved on to the next memory. Dudley and the Dementors. Quickly, Harry imagined the image going up in smoke, and to his great surprise, he felt the thought escape the professor. So that was it!

Right away, he sensed the Potions master's approval.

But already, the man was searching Harry's mind for another memory...then another.... Harry successfully countered his attack twice, but three scenes got away from him.

Snape didn't let up, taking memories randomly, insensitive to the boy's growing fatigue. Harry tried to reinforce his defenses. He was safe, everything was fine, this was Snape. Snape who'd said he'd protect him... At the moment, even, when the thought brushed over him, Harry understood his mistake.

Snape took hold of the memory that just crossed through his mind, and Harry, panicked, wasn't able to disperse it in time.

A very recent memory, since it was only several hours old...

"I'm finding you all of the sudden very protective of the boy, Severus. Not that I reproach you for that," murmured Dumbledore's gentle voice.

"Someone has to protect him," Snape's voice responded sharply. "You're determined to consider him an adult, responsible and able to face his fate alone. You're wrong. And if no one's able to see him as he really is, to recognize teenager who's full of self-doubts and who's struggling to hide the little, traumatized boy, then yes, I'll do it. Whatever the cost."

And suddenly, Snape was out of Harry's mind.

When Harry opened his eyes, he felt himself shrinking in his armchair, but not because of a transformation this time.

In front of him, Snape had stood and was staring at him, his eyes filled with anger. Harry thought he saw the clenched fist holding his wand tremble slightly.

The memory of the Pensieve and the last Occlumency lesson came back to Harry abruptly.

"I'm sorry...."

"How dare you...Potter! You allow yourself to spy on me here, in my home! It wasn't enough for you to nose around in my memories at Hogwarts? You're sorry, are you?" Snape hissed, his voice simmering with rage.

Harry scrunched himself a bit further into the armchair. He didn't dare look at the Potions master any longer. For it was indeed him right now, and no longer his Snape.

Of course, he'd spied without having the right, he knew that. He'd just not been able to stop himself.

"Potter, I'm waiting for your explanation! What do you have to say in your defense, you insufferable little busybody?"

Even during the incident with the Pensieve, Harry hadn't felt so ill at ease. He'd not only betrayed him, but he'd also disappointed the professor. He felt tears of frustration well up in his eyes, but he quickly held them back. That would be the worst, and certainly wouldn't help the Potions master's temper. And yet, everything had started out so well...

He opened his mouth to repeat how sorry he was, that he hadn't really intended to spy, especially such a personal conversation, but Snape didn't give him the chance.

With a gasp, he abruptly brought his hand up to his Mark, his eyes all of a sudden full of apprehension.

He groaned and with a quick gesture, threw a fistful of Floo powder into the hearth.

"Albus! Come get the boy! I must leave. Immediately!"

Then an instant later: "Very well, as you wish, but make it quickly!"

Without a look at Harry, Snape headed for the potions waiting on the table and quickly shoved them into a large leather sack.

Dumbledore stepped through the fireplace a moment later. "Hello, Harry...if it's all right with you, I'm going to stay with you here until Professor Snape returns."

Unable to say a word, Harry nodded.

Snape finally turned around, and threw an expressionless look at the headmaster. "I don't know when I'll be returning. Probably tonight."

Dumbledore nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't have the chance.

Snape had disappeared with a great crack¸ without even looking at Harry.

Among the things that Severus hated about being at the Dark Lord's—right after Cruciatus and being in constant worry for his life—was never knowing what to expect when he was summoned.

Of course, Voldemort was generally his usual self: cold and cynical, and perpetually two seconds away from pinning you to the ground with a curse, whether friend or foe.

But the difference between a Voldemort satisfied with his day and one who was cranky could quickly move you from life to death.

Today, Snape had his potions, and he had information. But he'd rarely before felt as nervous approaching his master. Too little time since the last visit…too little time to recover, for his mental barriers to become sufficient again.

But enough time for him to prepare his own healing potions. He felt a stabbing pain in his spinal column as he bowed before the wizard in black.

"Master…."

"Severus. I assume my potions are ready this time?" asked the Dark Lord, his voice almost amused.

"Yes, master."

"Good. I see that my lesson bore fruit. All children need to be sorted out from time to time, isn't that so, my boy?"

Snape shuddered. "Probably, master."

"Probably, Severus?" asked Voldemort, his voice full of menace.

"Without a doubt, my lord. Thank you," the Death Eater replied humbly.

"That's better. Now, stand. What else have you brought for me?"

Snape stood, feeling his knee almost give out. Upright, he had to remain upright. Voldemort must not see his weakness.

"The boy Potter, he's been entrusted into the care of an Order member. I still don't know which one, but I believe he's well-protected."

"Indeed," said the Dark Lord calmly. "He's well-protected."

The Potions master felt a shiver run through him. Did Voldemort know?

"I've not yet succeeded in locating him," he added, trying to hide his distress. "but I've strong suspicions."

"Suspicions, Severus? Suspicions are not enough for me!" Voldemort bit out, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair.

Snape couldn't help but feel relief. He wasn't the cause of it…for now.

"I have good reason to believe that the boy's in the care of Remus Lupin," he stated.

"Lupin? The famous werewolf who tried to teach at Hogwarts…and a friend of James Potter's. One of your old acquaintances, Severus," Voldemort murmured.

Snape nodded. Let him amuse himself by running after the werewolf if that kept him busy; if Dumbledore himself hadn't been able to find him when Harry'd desperately needed his help, then no one could do it.

"Yes," the Dark Lord finally said, apparently satisfied. "It's likely…very likely. The boy knows him and trusts him. Much too much."

Once again, Snape felt his entire body tense. What did he mean by that?

Riddle seemed to guess his question, because he shifted his eyes, brimming with satisfaction, to Snape again.

"Whatever dear Dumbledore is doing to keep me from Potter's mind, he can do nothing about the connection that links us. Not completely, and certainly not when the dear boy is as upset as he is."

"Upset, master?" Snape asked softly.

"Clearly upset and unstable. For now, Dumbledore has succeeded in denying me direct access to Potter's mind, but his emotions recently have been strong enough to breach those protections.

"It would appear that Lupin enjoys playing substitute father to the boy. Potter feels surrounded, and that upsets him. Add to that a feeling of false security that is foreign to him. I can almost sense it now. Several hours ago, something upset him enough to make him let down all his defenses.

"It's the most hilarious paradox that our dear Dumbledore has ever given me…love, love, love; it's the only word the old fool knows how to say! But it's exactly these cheap sentiments that will fail him; will it not be exquisitely delicious to see old Albus' strategy backfire and work against him?"

Snape felt himself grow pale.

He knew it. He'd known from the beginning, he'd known that he shouldn't let the boy grow attached to him, that he shouldn't have shown himself as so protective, nor even friendly.  But it was his own fault; he'd complacently let go of his own inclinations in favor of not letting the boy be afraid, and look where it'd brought them!

As for a few hours ago, it was an easy enough guess; it was the moment when Harry'd eavesdropped in on that little conversation between him and Dumbledore!

Bloody hell, if he'd had the slightest suspicion that the boy could hear that, if only he'd sensed his presence, if…

He had to get ahold of himself. Harry wasn't in immediate danger; there was still time to get him to safety if he got out of here.

"Master, that is excellent news, which should help you during the trial…." he managed to say in a gleeful voice.

"Ah, the trial. That's right, you'd know about that…."

"Yes, master. Dumbledore's bright idea is to try and push the hearing to as late in the summer as possible, so afraid he is of the meeting," Severus said.

"He might. Potter's Muggles were particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of once and for all getting rid of him for a reward. Isn't it ironic? The prodigal son of the of the wizarding world, the hero of all wizardom, Dumbledore's precious protégé, whom you're barely permitted to justly punish, Severus. How his own family hates him! They're positively astonishing…they'll stop at nothing to belittle the boy. Really, I should've already rewarded them; they've contributed significantly to my cause by making him so unstable and emotional. It will truly be child's play to have him in my power when the moment comes," Voldelmort concluded in a satisfied voice.

”Master," Snape replied, "I beg you, however, to be wary of Potter's powers. Dumbledore was not explicit, but I suspect he's carefully hiding what really happened to Potter during his absence…probably something dangerous enough to be considered as a weapon to be kept secret."

The Dark Lord drummed his fingers on the armrest again, observing his Death Eater thoughtfully. "Indeed, perhaps there's something more to that. Might I know, Severus, why you've not brought proof of it to me?"

"Master, I had too little time, and Dumbledore hardly let me near him. I was able to ascertain that Potter wasn't with the Weasleys, nor in Kingsley's care. I'll try to find out more as soon as possible, my lord," he pleaded.

"I heartily agree. You've done good work, Severus," said the Dark Lord in a soft voice that didn't persuade the Death Eater to relax.

"However, not enough to excuse you. Crucio."

In a split second, just before he gave up holding back his screams, Severus thought that, all things considered, he would've been better off, in the end, had he drunk the fourth and final potion in the box…

ooooOOOOoooo

"So, Harry, how is your stay at the Manor?"

Dumbledore's voice was polite, but Harry sensed that there was more to it than a routine question.

"Good. Really good. At least, I think it is," he sighed in spite of himself.

"You think it is?" the Headmaster repeated encouragingly.

"Professor, I…when you came to talk to Professor Snape earlier, I overheard your conversation. I truly didn't do it on purpose, I swear! I was…in my other form, and I was simply coming back to the house and the window was open, so I could hear. I mean, listen."

He glanced apologetically at the old wizard, who nodded.

"And what exactly did you hear then, Harry?"

"You talking about the trial at the Ministry. The Dursleys. And Professor Snape didn't want me to go there just now. I…" he stopped, frustrated. There were too many things to say, and too many things he didn't want to say out loud.

Dumbledore seemed to understand.

"Harry, that conversation must've shaken you, but you must understand. Professor Snape and I have different opinions on the matter, and we both probably see you in different ways. For my part, I believe that the sooner you face your family and this hearing, the sooner you'll finally feel free. Isn't that right?"

"I don't know," the boy murmured. "It's hard for me to even imagine…."

"Precisely my point. Professor Snape also has your best interests at heart. However, he's not known you nearly as long, and his recent view of things…compels him to want to protect you more than is probably good for you."

With his words, Harry clenched his teeth. "Did anyone think of asking my opinion?" he asked. "You just can't stop making my decisions for me, without asking me! It's not like…you're not my parents! No one is, I'm sixteen now, and I think I'm able to make my own decisions!"

"I can understand that, my boy," Dumbledore replied calmly. "In this instance, what would you like to do?"

"I…I don't know. I need time to think about it. I'd like to talk to Snape about it…I mean, Professor Snape, when he comes back. If he'll actually talk to me."

"Is something wrong?" the Headmaster asked.

"Earlier, during our Occlumency session, the professor realized that I'd overheard your conversation. He was furious…even worse than with the Pensieve, if that's possible," Harry confessed, more and more upset as he recalled the scene.

"Indeed, that vision probably reminded Professor Snape of that bad memory you both shared in your recent past," suggested Dumbledore.

"I suppose…but I really didn't do it on purpose, Professor, I swear it! I was walking by, and I heard your voice. I don’t know. Everything was going so well, it was almost as if it was a different Snape, and all of a sudden…everything's like it was before," the boy finished morosely.

"Am I to understand that things between you and Professor Snape are much better now?"

"Yeah, I think so. Well, they are. He's different; he doesn't look at me the same way, as if I were a Blast-Ended Skrewt contaminating his personal space; he's even nice, most of the time." He coughed, embarrassed.

Professor Snape, nice? If the Potions master were to hear that, Harry wouldn't have to worry about the incident of a while ago; there'd be nothing left for him to do but pack his bags. Preferably for another country.

But Dumbledore contented himself with simply nodding, a slight smile on his face.

Encouraged, the boy went on, "He's really taking good care of me. But I think after what's just happened, I'm going to deserve the Potions professor again," he grimaced.

"Professor Snape has his reasons, Harry. This entire situation isn't particularly easy for him either; don't forget that just a few days ago, we feared for his life. The professor's always made it a point of honor to hide his weaknesses, but it's not hard to see that he's still not recovered from his last trip to Voldemort."

"And he's there again…" murmured Harry, a familiar weight settling suddenly onto his chest. He was worrying about Snape being angry, while the man was at this exact moment risking his life…for him.

"In your place, Harry, I wouldn't concern myself too much over this matter," said Dumbledore reassuringly. "The professor has your security very much at heart, and I doubt he'll remain angry with you for very long."

"I don't know," murmured Harry. He had a sinking feeling that there was something much deeper behind this anger. "I just hope he doesn't hate me as much as the last time. I was starting to get used to…" he finished, his voice becoming bitter.

"Oh, Harry," said the Headmaster gently. "No, Professor Snape won't hate you. Believe me, whatever my powers of persuasion, he'd have never agreed to bring you here, to his Manor, if that'd been the case. And what's more, I certainly would've never left you in his care if I'd suspected that the unfortunate episodes of Hogwarts that the two of you lived through could've been repeated."

Harry nodded, his mind put to rest a bit.

"I just wish he'd come back quickly."

Dumbledore smiled and, by way of a reply, held out a package of Every Flavour Beans.

ooooOOOOoooo

Barely a few minutes had passed when the room was filled with the sound of a familiar crack!

Harry and Dumbledore jumped to their feet, and instinctively headed for the figure that'd just appeared in the middle of the room. Snape seemed on the verge of staggering in the empty space, then caught himself and turned toward them, his face cold and haggard.

"Severus, is everything all right?" Dumbledore inquired, obviously worried by the sight of the Potions master's contorted face.

"No. Potter, in your room, and don't even think about leaving it again this evening!"

Harry swallowed hard. "Professor…."

"Now!"

His tone left no room for a reply, and after meeting the professor's crazed eyes, the boy headed for the stairs, with an apologetic look for Dumbledore.

"Severus, surely Harry has the right to know what it's about," pleaded the Headmaster.

But for now, Snape didn't seem inclined to discuss it.

"Absolutely not. You'll have my report tomorrow. I assume the boy's eaten? Perfect. In that case, lights out and if you even think of putting a foot outside of your room, Potter, I assure you it'll be the last time. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Harry's eyes grew wider. That Snape sometimes allowed himself to direct cutting remarks tinged with irony to the Headmaster was one thing. But that little speech had been completely disrespectful and hostile.

Be that as it may, Dumbledore didn't seem to be offended, and contented himself with a nod of his head. "Tomorrow morning, Severus, I'll come to get Harry."

"Perfect," replied the Potions master through clenched teeth. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the Headmaster and then headed for the stairs.

Stunned, Harry managed to wrench his eyes from the two men, and hurried toward the stairs, which he took four at a time. Rushing into his room, he quickly closed the door.

Snape was just a few steps behind him, and Harry heard him murmur some obscure spells as he walked past the room.

The Potions master slammed his door, and silence once again reigned in the Manor.

Sitting on his bed, his knees drawn up, Harry tried to think about the situation.

He could understand Snape being furious with him—he was used to it. But the way he'd treated Dumbledore?

And yet, the Headmaster hadn't seemed to take it badly. Surely this wasn't a common occurrence…Dumbledore had always appeared to be the sole living person whom Snape respected.

Was it because of the conversation that they'd had earlier? Probably not.

The Death Eater meeting? What had happened there? Snape had refused to give an immediate report on it, and he'd clearly been shaken.

And he'd gone to bed right away…Harry was in a position to know that the professor only left his dungeon to sleep. Not a book or a potion in the bedchamber…

Evidently, Voldemort had really laid into him.

Because of him. Harry felt a shiver run through him. Of course, Snape was angry with him. He'd just been tortured for the second time in the space of several days because of Harry.

All right, Snape had excellent reasons to hate him, and he wasn't at all sure he wanted to know the details.

If he'd been able to take him something to eat…but it'd be best to follow orders and not leave his room. This really wasn't the time to annoy the professor.

ooooOOOOoooo

Severus wondered by what miracle he'd managed to Apparate without being splinched.

He'd barely managed to make out the familiar contours of the laboratory when he noticed the two figures coming to meet him.

No, not them, not now. Every single one of his nerve endings screamed for the strongest painkilling potion that'd ever been conceived, and he wasn't certain his legs would hold up for more than a few minutes.

For certain, his departure from Malfoy Manor had been less than dignified; Disapparating during a moment when the Dark Lord's attention had wavered fell far short of glorious, but he hardly cared what the Death Eaters' thought of him.

On the other hand, he was absolutely not inclined to show his weakness to the only two people whom it was still important for him to impress.

And good god, did they need to look at him with such worry and compassion? Did he appear to deserve their pity?

All he wanted now was peace, to collapse ungracefully into bed and gulp down the stock of painkilling potions he kept in his bedside table. And if possible, die from them. He groped with a hand for the bottles, and swallowed their contents, one after the other.

Was it possible that the Dark Lord had really let him off so easily? Had he really seen what he'd seen?

Impossible. No, it was impossible…and yet, hadn't Voldemort himself reacted? And the Death Eaters?

That big black dog that'd jumped from out of nowhere as Severus was stretched out on the ground, and that'd started to bark insanely at Voldemort, interrupting his incantation… That dog that wasn't one….a simple shadow of what had been an Animagus, of him who'd been one of Severus' worst nightmares: Sirius Black.

The black dog had lunged for the Dark Lord, its bared fangs even more impressive in this phantom form, and the wizard had retreated, casting a useless spell at the shadow.

The Death Eaters, at first stunned, had finally drawn their wands and tried to stop the beast, just as unsuccessfully.

And while all eyes had been on the phantom dog, Severus had seen her.

Lily. Her pale, translucent form had come toward him, and smiled at him again, before stooping down beside him to place a hand on his shoulder.

Severus had abruptly regained the strength and will to stand up. When they were upright, face to face, she'd stared fixedly into Snape's dazed eyes, and her mouth formed a single word.

"Leave."

The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were too busy trying to master the ferocious apparition of the dog to even notice. Severus knew she was right, he had to flee then…like any other Death Eater who'd have the chance to escape his master's punishment. Quickly, and in cowardice.

But to leave Lily there?

Before he had the time to think about it, he felt himself Disapparating in spite of himself. He almost panicked; he didn't have the strength, not yet. But it was already too late, and gathering the last of his strength, he visualized the laboratory where he'd left his other master and the boy.

There, he'd be safe…the boy as well. Lily's son.

For her, it was already too late.

And now? What should he do about Harry, about Dumbledore and the trial, about Voldemort?

Would Lily come back? What did she want? Had Black really meant to save him?

He felt his body relax as the potions started to work.

A few moments longer, and his mental barriers would've fallen. Yes, Black and Lily had saved them all.

Tomorrow, he'd be able to think better. For now, he had to sleep, to rest before the boy took his turn to fall asleep and the alarms sounded to warn him that he was having another nightmare.

If only Harry could stay up all night….

ooooOOOOoooo

On the other side of the hallway, the teenager seated on his bed was almost of the same opinion as his professor.

Tomorrow, he had to present himself to the Ministry. Today, he'd managed to make Snape apoplectic, to very nearly provoke a disagreement between the professor and the Headmaster, and the aforementioned professor had then had to face Voldemort because of him.

Now, Snape was asleep in his room at an early hour, which wasn't like him, and was furious with him.

Harry didn't know what bothered him most in that list, but he'd rarely felt so vexed and disappointed. Why was it that everything he did invariably turned out wrong? Just as he was starting to like the Potions professor, he'd managed to get Snape's back up, even though, truly, he'd not tried to.

If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he'd feel unhappy because he'd disappointed Snape, he'd've rolled laughing on the floor.

Now, though, the idea wasn't funny at all. If only he'd been able to talk to him.... Tomorrow, before the hearing, he'd have some time. Snape had said he'd come if Harry wanted…and Harry wanted him to. He'd need him there if he had to see the Dursleys again.

Seeing Dumbledore and Snape together had all of a sudden made him realize how different the two men were.  He respected Dumbledore and knew perfectly well that the Headmaster wouldn't let anyone harm him.

But Snape…. He'd know what to tell Harry to do, by a gesture or a look, and Harry suspected that the professor would be even quicker to draw his wand than Dumbledore, if the occasion called for it.

Even if angry with him. Even if injured because of him.

Dejected, Harry went to the window. It was night now, and only moonlight lit up the park. From his window, he could see the little clearing where he'd trained that afternoon…calm…wait.

Harry squinted. He could've sworn he'd seen something move. A few seconds later, a movement caught his eye again; he was sure of it this time, something was moving beneath the trees! He took a step back, ready to awaken the Potions master; if the wards protecting the Manor had failed, they were both in danger!

But a second glance changed his mind. He recognized this shape that ran and jumped in the moonlight… a big black dog, soon followed by a stag, and the two of them played together in the clearing. Watching them more closely, Harry was sure he could see the trees through their shapes….

A moment later, they'd disappeared, and the weight in the boy's chest grew heavier. He was dreaming, wide-awake… If Sirius and his father had been alive, the hearing the next day would've been a formality.

He closed the curtains and turned toward his bed again. Without conviction, he took a Quidditch book from his trunk and began to leaf through it, his mind elsewhere.

Voldemort… Snape… Sirius… Lily and James… Snape….

Before he had the time to take the Dreamless Sleep potion that he'd intended to drink before bedtime, Harry finally fell asleep.

ooooOOOOoooo

Severus heard the magical alarm resonate in his head like a bell.

As he'd predicted, Harry'd neglected to take his potion. Bloody hell…. He quickly checked the time: it'd been five hours since he'd fallen asleep. An adequate night's sleep, all in all.

He sighed as he opened the door to his room. Even without the magical alarm, the boy's cries would've soon awakened him.

Soundlessly, he entered the room opposite his own, then went to sit on the edge of the bed. With a rapid charm, he made sure the teenager wouldn't awaken. Now wasn't the time for it….

He gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Everything's all right, Harry. Calm yourself. Everything's fine."

To his surprise, the boy calmed down right away. Without opening his eyes, he reached out to Severus and grabbed hold of his sleeve, his fingers clenched in the fabric.

"There. I'm here. You've nothing to fear…."

Smoothing a hand over the boy's tousled hair, Snape watched his features relax, little by little.

Yes, Harry trusted him. Much too much. On that account at least, the Dark Lord had been right.

But he didn't comfort the boy any less, still caressing his hair. What Harry didn't know couldn't hurt him…

ooooOOOOoooo

Harry awoke with the strange feeling of having slept well. It didn't make sense…when he's fallen asleep, he'd felt bitter and overwhelmed, and he knew perfectly well that he never slept soundly under those conditions.

He shook his head. Maybe the Manor was more comforting than Gryffindor Tower after all.

Even if that didn't explain how his book had found its way to his bedside table…

Gathering his thoughts, Harry felt a knot begin in his stomach.

The Ministry hearing…it was today.

He quickly checked the time, using a charm: it wasn't seven o'clock yet. He'd gone to bed early last evening. Might as well fix breakfast and put Snape in a good mood. The ban on leaving his room had only been for the evening before, after all.

But as he passed by the closed door to the professor's room, Harry was fairly certain of what he was going to find in the dining room. Breakfast was already ready, and Snape had left the room long ago.

So much for eating meals together, he thought. He had much less of an appetite now, and quickly ate what was on his plate.

Without waiting any longer, he headed nervously for the dungeon. The familiar sound of phials being moved about didn't reassure him, though. How would Snape be this morning? Recovered? Faithful to his role of tyrannical professor?

He knocked three times quickly, then waited for a response.

"Enter."

Enter. That wasn't good.

Harry reluctantly opened the door and stepped into the room.

Snape was indeed there, with his back to him, seeming much busier than usual with his potions.

"Professor…" the boy began.

Snape turned around, a suspicious look on his face. "Potter, are you ready?"

Caught off guard, Harry stammered, "I, yes, I suppose…so, for what?"

Snape let out a growl of contempt, so familiar to Harry "For your hearing, naturally; certainly not to go off on a dragon hunt!"

Harry nodded, unable to speak a word. His professor's tone of voice was undeniably one from the old days…one from the worst days.

"It really has to be today?" Harry finally asked.

"If Dumbledore wasn't able to change the date of this meeting, I doubt that even the Famous Harry Potter could do it, even with stacks of autographs. Now, go and pack your bags, then come down quickly. I'm going to alert Dumbledore that you're ready."

Harry felt his head spin. His bags?

"You…think I'll have to stay there long?"

"That's none of my affair. But I don't believe so," the professor replied dryly.

"But…why do I have to take my things, if that's the case?" Harry asked, with a quaver in his voice that he would've liked to have hidden.

"You're moving out, Potter. Relieved?" Snape sneered.

"No! No, I don't want…I'm fine here, Professor, please, do I really have to leave?"

"Certainly. I would've thought the idea would make you jump with joy."

The boy shook his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. No, none of this was right…it wasn't possible. Snape couldn't have changed his mind so quickly, over such a little thing…

"Professor, I'm really, really sorry for having listened to your conversation yesterday. I had no intention of eavesdropping, and I swear it won't happen again," he tried.

"That's for certain," the Potions master sneered once again. "You're not half as sorry as you think you are, Mister Potter. Be that as it may, Dumbledore will find you another refuge until the end of the summer, if that proves necessary. Now, go up and pack your bags and be back in ten minutes."

ooooOOOOoooo

Severus heard the boy's footsteps fade on the stairway. Uneven. Hesitant.

He sighed. Bloody hell, since when did he feel badly after having put Potter in his place?

Probably since Potter was no longer Potter. The look the boy had shot him had been positively disarming, and Severus had caught himself having to make an effort to not soften his voice or his words….

He had to no longer think of Shadow. He had to no longer think of the boy who had nightmares. He had to supply Harry with his best weapons to face what was waiting for him at the Ministry. He'd be disappointed, yes, certainly furious with his horrible tyrant of an obnoxious Potions professor, but at least his mind would be closed to Voldemort.

He had to firmly chase away the sentimental little voice that wouldn't stop telling him that Harry needed him.

And he had to especially set aside, for a few minutes more, the pain that the Death Eater Mark was causing in his arm.

The Dark Lord was calling him again, and he'd not be happy with Severus' delay. He was obviously excited enough as it was, if the burning in his forearm was anything to go by.

Of course, since he was thinking of abducting the boy this very morning….

Hopefully Dumbledore knew what he was doing….

Hopefully the old fool wouldn't make another mistake with the boy….

Moving quickly, he threw a fistful of Floo powder. "Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts!"

Without hesitation, he pushed his head into the flames. "He's ready, Albus."

The old many looked at him kindly. "I'm on my way, Severus. Everything will be fine, my boy."

Snape grumbled and pulled himself back into the dungeon.

A moment later, the Headmaster followed.

"He'll be here in a few minutes," the Potions professor said curtly.

"Severus… have you thought this over? Don't you wish to reconsider your position?" Dumbledore asked, almost pleading.

"No, Albus!" the professor almost spat. "That was all a mistake, a grave error since the beginning! I should've never agreed. The boy…no. I don't want to see him again. Take him, do what you will with him. I don't want him here ever again."

Sighing, the old wizard nodded. "I understand, Severus. I was just hoping that…."

"That's enough. Do what you have to do, Albus, and I'll do the same. You've no idea of the danger…no."

The Potions master's tone was sharp and decisive.

Deciding not to argue, Dumbledore seated himself in a leather armchair and waited, his pained expression lingering on the professor, who turned his back, busy with packing phials into the large leather sack.

nbsp;       ooooOOOOoooo

On the other side of the heavy wooden door, sat a cat, transfixed.

Once again, he'd not done it intentionally.

He'd transformed without wanting to do it, as he was getting his things together. His heart heavy, he was thinking of Snape, of those last days in the dungeon…and he'd become Shadow again. Worse, he'd not been able to resume his human form; as hard as he tried, thinking of Quidditch and his broom, all that he'd managed to see had been the spark of pride in Snape's eyes when he'd succeeded at his first transformation.

Despairing, he'd gone back down the stairs for help. And once again, the voices had made him stop….

A grave error since the beginning. I should've never agreed. I don't want to see him again. Do what you will with him.

Snape.

Snape hated him. He'd been right.

Like a sleepwalker, he went back up the steps and sprawled out on his trunk. It was all he had, just now. The room that had been his during these few days would be shut off to him forever. He wouldn't be coming back to the Manor. Snape would no longer be…what?

His Snape.

He closed his eyes. There was nothing dramatic about it. Snape was only a horrible professor with greasy hair, bad-tempered and cruel, and what'd happened this summer had only been a digression…a plan. Dumbledore, no matter what he might've said, had forced Snape to take him home, and it'd all ended in the spy being tortured and putting everyone in danger.

All right, he was going to leave, he had to. Maybe to the Burrow, with a bit of luck. He doubted it, though. That wasn't how things worked, after all. He wasn't going to risk putting the Weasleys in danger, or Remus, or whoever else was in the least bit concerned about him.

He barely heard the door open and the steps approaching. When he finally lifted his head, it was to see two bright blue eyes observing him with kindness and amusement from behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Well, Harry, do you have a problem?"

The cat meowed uncomfortably. A problem? Why not several hundred?

"Can I help you?" the Headmaster asked.

Another meow answered him.

"Animagus revelio."

In an instant, Harry was sitting on his trunk, a bit stunned.

"Are you ready to leave, my boy?"

Harry nodded, his throat constricted. Dragging his trunk, he went down the stairs again.

When he was finally to the dungeon, he hesitated for an instant. Snape seemed busy…he had promised….  He certainly wasn't going to change his mind now, that wasn't like him.

"Professor…are you coming with us?" he asked, his voice more begging than he would've liked.

"With you, Potter?"

"To the Ministry. You said you'd come if I wanted you to."

Snape gritted his teeth and shot him a glance, a mixture of contempt and irritation.

"Potter, you really do think you're the center of the world, don't you? Professor Dumbledore is already doing you the honor of accompanying you. Whether you believe it or not, there are wizards with occupations in life other than granting you an escort. You're going to the Ministry, not to Malfoy Manor. Pull yourself together," he ground out.

It was as if the last hope that Harry'd held onto had just suddenly crumbled away to nothing. A weight of lead dropped to his stomach, and he felt as if Snape had just struck him with a solid slap.

He tried to meet the professor's eyes, looking for what he'd read there recently, but the man had already turned his back to him.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and jumped; at his side, Dumbledore was looking at him, his expression kind and full of understanding. "Harry, it's time to go."

The boy turned one last time toward the Potions professor, who still had his back to him. His shoulders were strangely tense, it seemed to Harry….

Harry searched for something to say, something that would've softened the professor, even one last time…

He shrugged. Snape. Snap was Snape…so what?

Refusing to stay any longer in the dungeon where he'd felt at home for a time, Harry turned to Dumbledore and nodded.

He wouldn't say a word. His voice would shake, and he refused to give that to the professor.

The Headmaster seemed to understand, because the arm that circled around Harry's shoulders as they passed through the fireplace brought him more comfort than the trip warranted.

As they disappeared from the laboratory, Harry thought he saw in the Headmaster's eyes, which hadn't left the Potions master's back, a spark of regret and sadness that he'd never seen there before.

The arrival at the Ministry didn't make Harry as anxious as he'd thought it would.

Actually, the confrontation with the Dursleys almost didn't interest him now.

He'd never again be Shadow. After this hearing, he'd be taken somewhere, to another house, under the responsibility of someone else who'd he once again put in danger.

When he'd see Snape again, it'd be at Hogwarts, and he'd definitely be the Potions professor that he should've never ceased to be.

Oh, and he supposed his Potions mark would stay the same in the end…he could never be an Auror.

What was he complaining about? He'd deserved it, after all. He brought misfortune and death to people. Even to the Durslesys who didn't love him, even to Snape who hated him….

Harry, though, couldn't bring himself to hate him. If only he could keep the memory of those few days intact, when he'd been a cat, and welcomed….

Dumbledore pushed him gently with a hand.

Across from him, Fudge was speaking, but Harry didn't hear his words. Actually, he barely saw Fudge himself…but that didn't seem to bother him, and after a few moments, he and Dumbledore moved away.

The room seemed bathed in fog, and everything was fine. His eyes blurry, Harry was seized by a sudden urge to check what was behind the door that stood across from him. He was suddenly certain that someone was behind it, waiting for him….

Something…no, someone was telling him that it would be him. Yes, him…Sirius…or James…or Snape, his Snape, whom he'd prefer. Lily, even, if he wanted.

He moved forward as if in a dream. Yes, he was going to open the door, and he'd be on the other side of it, and everything would be over, all would be peaceful. Slowly, he turned the doorknob. He shouldn't make any noise, he shouldn't be noticed.

On the other side, they were waiting for him, and he'd never be in pain again, he'd never hurt anyone again. There'd be someone there…a family.

He went through the door and closed it softly behind him. Across from him stood a figure that he had trouble recognizing, through the fog in his mind.

He blinked and the figure came toward him.

A tall man with long blond hair.

The voice sniggered, giving a name to the figure: Malfoy

"That was too easy, Potter, much too easy."

Lucius Malfoy rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, and the crack that followed absorbed Harry's cry.

The door opened once again, a second too late.

At Malfoy Manor, a shout of triumph rang out when the two figures appeared in the middle of the sitting room.

Narrowing his eyes, Severus tried to focus. It was a nightmare, an absolute nightmare…

The burning in his Dark Mark, which had lasted all morning, finally subsided. The Dark Lord was satisfied. He had Harry Potter.

How had he been able to snatch him right out from under Dumbledore?  Nothing, absolutely nothing had happened as he'd foreseen. Once again, Severus Snape had chosen poorly.

Not just one bad choice, but a whole series of misjudgments and mistakes that had led them straight to this catastrophe.

Not to panic…he had to find a way. He had to get Harry out of here at all costs, by Merlin.  He'd not let the boy out of his sight until the Dark Lord was reduced to a pile of harmless bones.  No, not until the boy himself was old and grey with a beard as long as Albus'.

Harry….

If only he'd responded right away to the call of the Mark.

But he'd waited for the boy to awaken on his own.  He'd made sure he'd eaten, and especially that Harry'd been stripped of any notion of kindness or affection on Severus' part.

Good god, the boy had a gift for attaching himself to those who could do him the most harm.

Harry had scarcely disappeared from the dungeon, in Dumbledore's so-called keeping, when he'd Disapparated himself, finally answering the Dark Lord's summons, which had been calling for him for several hours.

What could he possibly want of him?  Certainly not potions; even Voldemort knew he couldn't demand they be ready in such a short time.

To punish him for his hasty departure?  Possible, but unlikely.  Any reasonable Death Eater would've done the same.

And indeed, if the dark wizard had been annoyed enough with Severus' attitude to make him feel it through the Mark, that had done nothing to hide Voldemort's good mood.

But Snape's tardiness had still been long enough to ruin his chances of saving the boy before it was too late.

"Severus.  Finally," the Dark Lord threw at him, displeased, when he saw him appear.

"I apologize, master, I was trying to get your potions together, and Dumbledore asked me…" the Potions master attempted to justify himself.

"How many times must I repeat that excuses don't interest me, Severus?" Voldemort hissed.

Snape bowed in silence. 

"I intended to entrust a mission of the greatest importance to you…but you've just proved yourself unworthy of it.  Lucius is hardly any better, but at least he responded to my summons in time.  Since only one of you could accomplish the mission, I'll have to be content with it."

"I apologize, master.  Can I be of service at the moment?"

"We'll see about that in a few minutes.  Dumbledore is due to arrive at any moment at the Ministry of Magic.  Lucius is waiting for him there, since he knows the points of entry.  He'll have the honor of bringing the boy back to me.  That could've been you, Severus.  This will teach you to be punctual.  If Lucius succeeds in bringing me Harry Potter, he'll be amply rewarded."

Snape felt a shiver run down his spine. Lucius was there… and it could've been him!  This plan could've been thwarted so easily, and he'd let it slip by!

But Dumbledore was with Harry, so he had nothing to fear.  He'd sufficiently shaken the boy so that he'd seal off his mind to Voldemort.

Voldemort, though, didn't seem to share his point of view.  For the very first time, Severus heard him let out a low laugh, not that little cynical, cruel snigger, but one of pure happiness.

"And Harry…  Oh Harry, how weak he is! A rag doll, a marionette in my hands.  Dumbledore hasn't the slightest idea of how defenseless his protégé is!" he chuckled.

Snape swallowed with difficulty. "Master, can you sense him?" he asked.

"Sense him?  Only Dumbledore's potions are keeping me from reading his mind like an open book. That's the only thing resisting me, and how interesting…the channel between our minds completely opened again this morning.  All the boy's defenses fell without my even touching him."

He was still laughing softly, his face split by a bizarre and worrisome smile.

"I don't understand…My Lord," Snape continued, "how can he feel safe when he's about to see his family again?  Does he trust Dumbledore that much?"

"In the end, this feeling safe and sound wasn't our hero's greatest weakness.  Or was it?  Whichever the case, no, the boy doesn't feel safe.  He feels completely vulnerable, abandoned and unhappy.  It would seem that something went terribly wrong with Lupin!"

He laughed outright this time.  "Can you imagine that, Severus?  Even the werewolf can't stand Harry Potter for more than a few days!  He broke the poor boy's heart; I'm almost tempted to feel sorry for him!"

Snape felt the room spin around him.  He didn't know which made him sickest: Voldemort's demented laughter, or the thought that he'd just offered Harry to him on a silver platter.

He who prided himself on being a fine strategist, he was going to have to reconsider his tactics.

How had he managed to underestimate Potter's capacity for taking his words to heart?  He'd recently had plenty of chances to observe how excessively emotional and sensitive the boy was.  How long had it been since he'd so miserably failed to manipulate a teenager…and Voldemort?

 Perhaps precisely since he'd tried to manipulate them instead of following his instincts… But he didn't have anymore time to ponder the question; the Dark Lord had abruptly stopped laughing, and let out a small cry of triumph.

A moment later, he went into a trance, ignoring Snape as he murmured softly, "Everything's fine, Harry…everything's fine…listen to me, hear only my voice…that's perfect, everything will be fine.  Look at the door in front of you.  Yes, that one, go, my boy, go and open it.  Behind it, you'll find what you're looking for.  The one you're looking for.  All that you want…a family, isn't that right?  There, behind it.  But be careful, go quietly…yes, that's very good, just behind it, someone's waiting for you, open it.  Good, close it now…that's perfect."

No, that couldn't work, what was Dumbledore doing…he had to stop him before…

But it was too late. With a resounding crack, Lucius Malfoy appeared in the Manor sitting room, holding the boy by the shoulder.

Harry seemed haggard, his eyes glazed, as if he'd just awakened from a dream…or rather, a nightmare.

"No!"

With a jump backward, Harry pulled himself from Lucius' grasp.  He didn't get much farther, though; looking around, his eyes found Snape and the dark wizard at his side, and he stopped, frozen in his tracks.

"Do not stay here, master, I beg of you," Snape cried out, thrusting himself between the boy and the Dark Lord.  "Remember what I told you!  His powers!  Do not risk yourself!"

Snape felt a cold wave run through him, but his argument seemed to strike home.  Voldemort took his turn to seize him by the shoulder, and they disappeared, leaving the boy in the hands of the master of the house.

Bought a bit of time, the Potions master thought…  How much, exactly, before Voldemort decided that the boy wasn't dangerous?

Severus immediately recognized their landing spot: Nott's cottage, sufficiently isolated and protected to serve as a fallback refuge for the Dark Lord.

"Master, give us time to make certain Potter doesn't post a threat to you!  We still do not know what he…."

"Severus," the Voldemort interrupted calmly. "I don't like the way the boy looked at you.  He was clearly looking to you for help.  Since when does Potter consider you an ally?"

Perfect, this was all that he needed.  How was it possible for things to go this badly?

Thank Merlin, no other Death Eater was gifted enough in Legilimency to break into the boys' mind.

"Master, he's aware I brewed the healing potions that put him back on his feet, and that I'm an Order member. He surely hoped that my loyalty was such that it would save him."

"Really?  His mind indicated that it's more than that.  It'd be best for you, Severus, if it turns out the boy has  illusions."

"Give me the chance to prove it to you, master."

"You'll have it.  But for now…."

The familiar crack rang out, and Nott appeared in the middle of the room where they now were.

"So quick, my faithful Death Eater…that's perfect. Follow his example, Severus," said the Dark Lord mockingly.

Snape bowed without answering.

"Nott, return to Malfoy Manor.  Have Lucius keep the boy shut up in the dungeon where he and Bellatrix can watch him.  You can help them as well.  I want Potter to be weak, in every possible way.  Use any method you like; in two days, I want him broken and begging.  If he really has any power, find it out for me. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, master," Nott answered eagerly.

"Perfect.  However, I want the boy to be able to talk to me when I return.  He might have some interesting revelations to make…on top of the pleasure of hearing him beg for me to spare him.  Enjoy yourselves…this is your reward, Death Eaters.  Make use of it!"

Nott sniggered and bowed in thanks to his master, before Disapparating to Malfoy Manor.

Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other for a moment.  "Master, would you allow me…"

"No, I need you here.  My potions.  You'll use Nott's supplies, he's well-stocked.  You'll be my personal guard for these next two days.  An honor that will well compensate you well for not being able to amuse yourself with Potter, I hope?"

"Of course, master.  If I could just Apparate quickly to my laboratory to collect the necessary ingredients."

"You'll make do with what you find here.  If need be, Nott himself will go to retrieve your supplies.  Get to work."

Once again, the Potions master bowed, then headed for Nott's sehelves.  Yes, he had what was needed to work with…and no excuse to return to Malfoy Manor.

He had to warn Dumbledore…warn him?  What good would it do?  As if he didn't already know!

Two days, that was how long he had to get Harry out of there.  It was useless to hope that the Order would manage to break through the Manor's wards, now that the boy was being held there.

Among the potions he'd had the boy drink that morning, the Anti-Animagus potion should prevent him from transforming for an entire day.  After that, he could only pray that the boy would manage to use his powers at the right moment.

Short of a miracle, Severus' only chance would be to accompany the Dark Lord when he returned to the Manor in two days.

The boy would survive.  Lucius was watching over him…but at what cost?

He quickly glanced over his shoulder.  His eyes met the red and piercing ones of the wizard with the serpent-like face.

Severus himself was on tenterhooks.  Two days…he couldn't make a single misstep.  If the Order didn't come up with something, he'd be the boy's last chance.

May Lily forgive him, but from now until then, he had to leave Harry in Death Eater hands.

                                                    ooooOOOOoooo

Harry Potter wasn't particularly afraid of the dark or confined spaces.  After ten years of sleeping in a cupboard, he knew he was immune to claustrophobia.

So, when Malfoy sneered and threw him down into the windowless dungeon, telling him to take a deep breath while he still had the chance, Harry's first thought was that Lucius had grossly underestimated him.

But when he watched the walls come together, forcing him to pull his knees in against himself, Harry felt ready to change his mind.  Hands tied behind his back, stone walls closing in on him from all sides, he felt a vague sense of panic wash over him.

Trying to control his breathing, he propped his chin on his knees. He had to calm down…

Exactly what had happened?  Voldemort could've killed him on the spot…but Snape had told him to be wary of him and his powers.  His powers?  How could transforming into a cat help him to vanquish Voldemort?

Maybe…  In any case, he would feel less cramped in his cell as Shadow; the chains around his wrists would certainly fall off, and he'd be able to slip through Malfoy's legs when he opened the door.

Closing his eyes, he visualized a picture of Snape….then opened them again right away.

Snape? What did Snape want from him exactly?

So, this was why he'd not been able to come with him to the Ministry; he'd chosen to go back to Voldemort.

The traitor!

Or was he?  After all, he'd tried to take Voldemort away…

Remembering this, Harry rubbed his forehead against his knees.  The dark wizard's presence had sent waves of pain through his scar.  Even now, he could feel the wizard's hatred and impatience.  He wasn't far away…and he was jubilant.

Was this why the professor's mood had abruptly changed recently?  Had he known what was going to happen today?  No, he'd tried to get Harry out of the going to the hearing…

No.  No, Snape had kept him safe.  He'd had every chance to hand him over to Voldemort when he'd been at the Manor.

Snape was on his side, he was sure of it.  Because otherwise…he didn't stand a chance, did he?

And if he was wrong about the professor, then there was no longer a reason for Shadow to even be.

Even though he'd slept and eaten only several hours ago, Harry felt exhausted.  Everything had become terribly confused since his arrival at the Ministry, when he'd seen that door, with that voice talking to him inside his head.

Voldemort.  Obviously.  How could he've let him manipulate him like that?  Oh, while on the subject, how could Dumbledore have let them kidnap him right from under his nose?

Dumbledore and Snape!  If those were the two who were supposed to save him, he'd better start to think of a plan of his own!

The boy's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor.  Already?

There were several of them…three, he counted.  They were talking with their voices lowered, laughing…

The door was swung open wide, and light flooded the little cell.  Harry blinked, trying to see their faces.  Lucius, obviously, and over his shoulder, the demented smile that'd remained etched in his memory.

Bellatrix.

Sirius' cousin, who'd killed him only a few weeks ago…  The episode at the Ministry, of just a few hours ago, seemed like decades in the past to him.

But now, Harry had to bite his lips to keep from screaming with rage, the picture of Sirius falling through the Veil because of Bellatrix Lestrange's curse more vivid than ever.

If he had a chance, the slightest chance…he'd transform into Shadow and disfigure her before ripping her throat out!

Ignoring Harry's venomous look, Malfoy grabbed him by the collar and pulled him from his cage.  "So, Potter, happy to see us?  Do you like your new room?  You'll have all the time in the world to get to know its length, and width and depth, not to worry…."

Behind him, Bellatrix Lestrange's laughter rang out, as well as that of a Death Eater whom Harry didn't recognize.

"We're going to enjoy ourselves together, Potty!  Oh yes, you will see, we're going to get along very well.  I'm sure you'll have plenty of things to tell us!" chuckled Bellatrix, her face so close to Harry's that he could feel her breath.

With an abrupt gesture, Malfoy pushed him back into the dungeon. The boy braced himself to hit the wall, but to his surprise, he fell flat out onto the floor.

One look around the room, and Harry understood: the walls had slid back, giving way to a large, gloomy, windowless room.

The three Death Eaters entered and surrounded the boy, clearly satisfied with themselves.

"It seems I forgot to wish you welcome to Malfoy Manor," Lucius said with a small, polite smile.  "Be our guest for the days to come…you will have the huge honor of being received by the Dark Lord in person.  Until then…we're going to try to get you ready to meet him, all right?"

Bellatrix's hysterical laughter began again.

"Whenever you want," Harry replied calmly.

"Oh really, Mister Potter?" whispered Malfoy, clearly amused.  "You're very sure of yourself….  Was Snape right, do you have something to hide from us?"

Snape.

Harry's mind worked rapidly: Snape had made them believe that he had a hidden power with the capability to counter Voldemort.  He surely hadn't meant to speak of his Animagus form; the Potions master had only sought to give him an advantage.

He shouldn't lose it…and he shouldn't betray Snape, either.

"That traitor…" he hissed between his teeth, trying to bring to mind all the anger and frustration he'd felt about the professor.  This shouldn't be that hard, after all…

The three Death Eaters burst into laughter.

"Oh, Harry, you're so charmingly naïve!  It's all right if I call you Harry, isn't it?  Draco's talked to me so often about you that I feel I know you well.  Really, who doesn't talk about the Boy Who Lived…."

Harry gave no reply.  The less he spoke, the less he'd risk betraying himself….

"My cousin's godson, dear little Harry Potter!  That almost makes us relatives, doesn't it, Harrrrrrrrry?" asked Bellatrix with a big smile.

"Don't talk about Sirius," grumbled the boy, forgetting his resolution.

"Oh, we've hit a sensitive spot!  Sirius, brave Sirius Black, who loved Gryffindors and Mudbloods so much!  What a huge loss, wasn't it, Bellatrix?" teased Malfoy gleefully.

"Don't talk about Sirius!"  Harry growled.  He felt the blood pounding at his temples.  It was no longer fatigue that troubled his eyesight, but rather anger now

"Awww, he misses his godfather, the poor boy.  You shouldn't, love, it won't be long before you join him, take my word!  But first, you must show us your new talents.  Come, a little demonstration, Harry dear, your godfather would've been so proud of you!"

In a groan of rage, Harry managed to get back up on his feet.  It was only when he tried to attack Bellatrix that the revelation seized Harry: not only were his wrists tied behind his back, but his wand had disappeared.

How?  When?  Who?

An instant later, the question evaporated as he found himself thrown to the ground by an Electro generously cast by Malfoy.

"Tsk, tsk, my boy, who told you to get up?  So, the Muggles didn't teach you manners?  No, indeed, I suppose one can't expect that of Muggles…no matter.  Let me help you."

Grabbing Harry by the hair, he pulled him to his feet, where he stood unsteadily.

"So, Harry, you have something to tell us?"

Staring at Bellatrix darkly, the boy didn't answer.

"No?  Crucio!"

Harry fell to the ground again, all his anger forgotten…   Crucio, Voldemort, the cemetery, Cedric….

He gasped when he could breathe again, and wasn't sure anymore of where he was.  The three figures above him were laughing, it was dark, and every one of his nerves was on fire….

A hand grabbed him by the hair, and once again he was standing, supported by powerful hands.

"Harry, Harry, this could be so much easier…do you want something to drink?" asked the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy.

The boy gritted his teeth and shifted his eyes to Bellatrix, who was laughing out loud, a few steps away.  If only he could transform right now…but thinking of Snape would be too dangerous.

A hand seized his jaw and forced him to look at Malfoy.

"Look at me when I talk to you.  Anyway, you don't need these glasses, do you, to look insolent?"

The glasses went flying and broke under the sole of the unknown Death Eater's shoe.

"Thanks," Harry said with a smile, looking Malfoy straight in the eye this time.  "I was just looking for a good reason to get new ones.  The frames didn't look good on me."

Malfoy laughed softly, as if he thought it a good joke.

But an instant later, Harry felt a Cruciatus once again toss him to the stone floor, and he clearly heard his own cries echoing off the dungeon walls.

No, Lucius Malfoy definitely didn't have a sense of humor.

                                                     ooooOOOOoooo

Night fell, and the calm of Nott's cottage threatened to drive Severus to the edge of a nervous breakdown.

No one had Apparated since Nott's departure, and spending an entire day preparing potions under the constant, watchful eye of the Dark Lord was a new experience that he never wanted to repeat.

Not that the dark wizard was intrusive.  Actually, he'd not spoken a word all day, content to stare at Severus with his red eyes, drumming his fingers on his armchair, sometimes getting up to walk a bit.

But he wasn't all that silent.  The first time he'd heard the little laugh behind his back, Severus had swiftly turned, looking to find the cause of this sudden hilarity.

When he saw the Dark Lord's vacant, half-closed eyes, the Potions master froze.  It wasn't himself, nor anyone in the cottage who was making the dark wizard laugh.

It was Potter, undeniably.  And that certainly wasn't a good thing…

The bursts of nasty laughter, mixed in with phrases in Parseltongue, made the hair on the back of the professor's neck stand up every time he heard it.

What were they doing to the boy?  To his cat?  He'd sworn he'd not allow it…if only he could get to Malfoy Manor!  But even then, he'd not be able to get the boy out that easily.

Between two potions and two of the Dark Lord's sinister laughs, Severus had time to consider his options.

He knew he couldn't Apparate; the anti-intrusion wards had certainly been reactivated after Nott's arrival.  Floo powder definitely wasn't a consideration; so, there remained only two solutions.

The first was certainly the weaker: the good old-fashioned method, escape on foot.  But to take Potter, running away right out from under the noses of Death Eaters and Voldemort?  It was totally suicidal.  He'd need more than one dose of Felix Felicis to pull that one off.

Which left the Portkey.  Dumbledore's so-called gift, his last resort…

Distractedly, Severus touched the bottle through the fabric of his wizarding robes.  For fifteen years it'd been there, carefully kept in a pocket, waiting for a desperate situation to present itself.

But would it still work after all this time?  Would it really manage to take him outside the wards around him, as Dumbledore had reassured him it would?  He doubted it.

Be that as it may, there was one last problem.  The Portkey had been configured to carry only one person: himself.  No passenger, and no one but Severus Snape.

Yes, Dumbledore had foreseen everything…except that the desperate situation would consist precisely of saving his Precious Potter.

Which left Shadow.  In his cat form, perhaps the Portkey would allow him to take this second passenger, if he himself held on to him firmly?

It was their best chance.

On the face of it, their only chance.

Behind him, the Dark Lord let out a gleeful laugh again, one that chilled him.

"Oh yes, Harry, scream…nothing pleases me more…soon you can beg me to let you die, but for now, show us what you can do…"

Snape clenched his teeth, fighting a violent urge to throw the bottle of bubotuber pus he was holding onto the figure behind him.

Lucius knew how to be creative.  Would Harry be able to transform when the moment came?

His hand shaking slightly with rage and frustration, the Potions master bent over the cauldron to pour in the liquid.

Patience.  He had to bide his time…

                                                     ooooOOOOoooo

"What a shame that Severus isn't allowed to join us; he certainly would've loved playing with Potter!" said Bellatrix regretfully.

"That remains to be seen," Malfoy replied skeptically.  "Recently, the Dark Lord has not been as happy with his services.  I wonder…never mind, we'll know in short order.  Do you think he's ready?"

Harry sensed Bellatrix crouch down close beside him. She ran a hand through his hair and all the boy's painful muscles stiffened.

"Yes, I think we can begin," she finally said.

Begin?  Harry clenched his jaw hard.  What did she mean by that?

He felt like he'd been there for an eternity…the dungeons were black now, but he knew it wasn't a matter of what time it was.  He simply no longer had the strength to distinguish anything but vague outlines.

How much time had passed since he'd arrived at the Manor?  Hours, certainly, maybe days.   The three Death Eaters were taking turns, as they'd said it so well, so that Harry wouldn't get bored.  He'd hardly had the chance.

He'd lost count of the number of incantations cast at him; he didn't know most of them anyway.  But at this point, he was persuaded he had at least an arm and an ankle that were unusable, a few broken ribs and blood in his mouth.

It was also very likely that the liquid he could feel with his fingers was his own blood.

This wasn't the first time that Voldelmort had managed to capture him, and to be used as a target for the attacks of this happy band of sadists wasn't a great novelty for Harry either.  Grinding his teeth, he'd tried to imagine himself flying on his Firebolt, far, far away from this dungeon….

That worked sometimes with the Dursleys, and the vision could also keep him from changing into a cat in spite of himself.

Snape would've been proud of his idea…

No, he mustn't think of Snape.  Especially not Snape.

But the Death Eaters had much more imagination than Uncle Vernon.  Cruciatus couldn't be an end in itself, according to Malfoy, so they'd deployed a large variety of curses whose effects were as diverse as they were painful.  Nott, unsurprisingly, took the initiative in the game 'throw Potter to the opposite wall,' but the party didn't last long; the walls quickly won with a K.O.

Bellatrix finally found a contest that they all agreed on: make Harry shout the loudest, or the most often as possible.

Harry made it a point of honor to not give his torturers, such as they were, this satisfaction.  But despite his efforts, that contest was becoming easier and easier to win…

When he'd started to feel his mind become clouded, worn down by suffering, he tried hard to hang onto to a few simple thoughts.

Above all else, not to think of Snape.  If he wanted to get out of here alive, it was his best chance, and no one was supposed to know.  If only he'd had more time to practice Occlumency.

His next thought was that he had two advantages in reserve.  All right, maybe the word 'reserve' was a bit of an exaggeration…but Snape had bought him some time—how much, he didn't know, but a reprieve all the same.  Finally, he had Shadow…when the moment came, the element of surprise could be decisive…if he managed to transform!

And then, he had to think of Dumbledore.  And of the Order.  They wouldn't leave him to die here; they were surely on their way.  He probably wouldn't even need to transform or escape on his own, that option being rather compromising…

Finally, and especially, he daren't give up.  Whatever happened, whatever they did…he wouldn't plead. He wouldn't beg them, and he wouldn't obey.  They couldn't force him.  And if he wasn't mistaken, the Death Eaters were forbidden to kill him; their role was to wear down his resistance.

Oh well, they wouldn't win.

When Bellatrix finally decided that he was ready, Harry was no longer sure he knew his name.  Dumbledore was a distant shadow, the Order just a vague notion.

If someone was determined to get him out of here, he would've much preferred that they do it before Bellatrix started….

"Drink that, my little one, you'll love it…a potion from you favorite professor!"

Harry steeled himself to fight against the phial he felt pressed to his lips, but the reference to Snape made him stop, and he reluctantly swallowed the liquid.

In a few moments, the pain seemed to recede from his body, and his vision became clearer.

Faithful to his mania, it was Lucius Malfoy who grabbed him by the hair to force him to stand; to his great surprise, Harry managed to keep his feet.

He was still hurting; he felt exhausted, and his voice was hoarse from having screamed too much, but he had enough strength to hold himself up and look the Death Eater in the eyes.

Too bad, he thought, not enough saliva to spit in his face….

But did he need it? He smiled slightly as he ran his tongue over his cracked lips.

Doing his best to aim for the Death Eater who'd not let go of his hair, he spat a stream of blood that hit the man's face with a splat, very satisfying to Harry.

Once again, Malfoy smiled at him cruelly, and Harry knew that gesture of defiance was going to cost him dearly.

But he decided it'd been worth the trouble, as Malfoy calmly wiped his face.  Without saying a word, he released Harry from his chains.

Then he turned to Bellatrix.  "He's ready."

Suddenly, the room changed, and the light reappeared, streaming in through a window.  A window?  Harry blinked, trying to get used to the brightness.  The room was richly decorated, full of furniture, curios and paintings, and there, standing in the middle of the room, the desk he knew so well...

A sweet?

Dumbledore's desk.

How?  Had he succeeded in getting out of there?  By what miracle…

Noticing two figures in a corner, Harry stopped short.  He didn't have his glasses, but he'd seen those silhouettes often enough in recent years, that he knew them from far away.

"Professor Dumbledore!  Professor McGonagall!  How did I get here?  I don't understand…."

The two of them came to him silently, calmly.

"Professors?"

"Harry, I'm happy to see you," Dumbledore said gently. 

"Professor, please, how did I get her?" Harry asked feverishly.  Something wasn't right, he could sense it.

"You don't remember, my boy?  We went to free you, the Order, everyone was there."

"Everyone?  You mean…is everyone all right?"

Dumbledore slowly shook his white head, his eyes half-closed.  "Remember.  Make an effort, Harry.  They died for you, after all.  Because of you."

Harry staggered, stunned. "Dead?  But who?"

"Everyone, Harry.  But you're safe, that's what counts, isn't it, my boy?" asked Dumbledore almost reassuringly.

"No!  No, it's not possible, I don't want, I…."

Harry pulled back, looking desperately for a way out of the room, out of this situation.  But Dumbledore came toward him and grabbed his jaw like Malfoy had done earlier.

"Look at me, Harry.  They're dead because of you.  What are you going to do to deserve your life now?"

Harry let out a strangled sound, covered by the noise of McGonagall laughing from behind Dumbledore.

"Harry, Harry, I'm so disappointed, all that for this?  Look at you, you hardly had the strength to stay on your feet…and you're the one who has to conquer the Dark Lord?  Merlin, might as well say the war is lost," said his Head of House.

"After all we've done for you, Harry," Dumbledore said, a threat in his voice, tightening the grip of his hand a bit more. "With all who've died for you.  I'm terribly disappointed."

His eyes wide, Harry couldn't look away from the Headmaster.  He seemed so angry, so disgusted to see him…and suddenly, the impossible happened.

Dumbledore finally released him, and for an instant, Harry thought he was going to let him leave.  But the old wizard's hand balled up in a fist that struck Harry in the face with surprising strength, sending him roughly to the floor again.

The boy turned over, hand at his cheek, a lost expression on his face.  And McGonagall was laughing hysterically…

"You don't deserve to be a Gyrffindor, Potter.  No, actually, you don't even deserve to be a wizard.  Hogwarts should've never accepted you as a student.  Crucio."

As he clung to the rug, trying desperately not to scream, Harry tried to figure out what was wrong with this scenario.  Dumbledore had never lifted a hand in violence to anyone, not this way.  He'd fought Voldemort at the Ministry, yes, but using magic!  And McGonagall…

Was disappointed.  Just disappointed.  People were dead because of him, and he had to pay.

"Sorry…sorry....  I'm sorry!"

Time seemed to stop for a moment. Looking up, he thought he saw a satisfied smile on McGonagall's face…had he said the right thing?

But Dumbledore, who'd come close, left him no illusions.  With a well-placed kick, he sent Harry rolling further away.

"You'll never be sorry enough, Harry.  Being sorry doesn't bring back the dead."

"I didn't want that to happen, I'll do anything you want, give me a chance!"

"A chance, Harry?  Did Lupin and Tonks, did the Weasleys have a chance?" said the old wizard menacingly.

"The Weasleys?" Harry choked out. "No!  They can't be, I just can't, it's not possible!  Is it?"

"All of them, Harry.  The whole family, from father to the young girl, including your dear Gryffindor friend.  What's left now, my boy?  You?  Look at you, you're pitiful…what a waste!"

Harry didn't think McGonagall's shrill laugh strange.  Actually, he didn't hear her.

Kneeling on the ground, he sobbed in misery, not even feeling the pain in ribs anymore.  Ron…Ginny…Remus…all dead…what did he have left?

"Potter!" McGonagall's voice cut in after a while.  "Up, Potter!  Stop lying on the floor, we don't have time for your whinging!"

Like a sleepwalker, Harry managed to get up, wobbling, his eyes blurred with tears.

"All we have now is a weepy little boy, Potter; what do you think, that tears will save the world?  No one wants to wipe your nose for you; a bit of pride, eh?!"

The boy tried to raise his head, but the tears still flowed in spite of himself.

"Pathetic, Potter.  Crucio."

When McGonagall finally ended the curse, Harry almost regretted it.  At least the pain kept him from thinking about the rest of it….

"I am…sorry," he murmured, which required a great effort.

"Really, Mister Potter?  Then say it again.  On your knees.  Ask for forgiveness for your faults…for what you are."

For a moment, Harry thought about gathering all his remaining strength, but….

No.

It wasn't fair.

He'd not wanted this to happen, and McGonagall…would've never asked him to do such a thing.  To ask forgiveness from the witch and wizard who were watching him cruelly, satisfied smiles on their faces, wouldn't afford him any redemption.

Dumbledore must've seen something in Harry's face, because he seized him by the hair and forced him to his knees, his blue eyes now hard and contemptuous.

"Well then, Harry?  We're waiting."

"No," the boy murmured.

"No?" the man repeated softly.

"No."

A moment later, a different spell struck him, aimed directly at his scar, and he finally fell into a black and blessed unconsciousness.

Everything was dark…he was floating, finally free of the pain that'd afflicted him for…hours.  Days?

He didn't know anymore.  Someone had died…many people had died.  Dumbledore…he didn't want to go back there anymore.

He preferred the blackness.

But the blackness wasn't complete, actually…there was something that glimmered, in the distance.  Mildly curious, Harry directed his mind toward the light.

A room…a lamp.  It was almost nighttime.  A man…no, two men, dressed in black, busy doing something in silence.

But one of them wasn't really a man, was he?

Harry went closer.  The larger of the two was the one who wasn't human.  Not entirely…     Harry's mind lingered on the pale face pierced by two red eyes, the pupils vertical slits…his hatred, his euphoria, his cruelty.

Harry was almost floating as he walked the length and width of the vast room.  He knew this presence, it was so familiar that it was almost a part of him….

He hated him, probably not as much as the wizard with the serpent-like head hated Harry; he wasn't capable of it, but all the accumulated resentment resurfaced as he watched the creature's reptilian smile.

So much glee.  So much triumph.  So much malevolence.

Harry drew back and turned his mind toward the other wizard.

He could sense this one as well…how he didn't like the creature skulking behind him.  He feared it, but even more, it disgusted him.  It wasn't toward the creature, though, that the man in black's thoughts were directed.

He was worried.  Even more than that, he was trying to hide a deep anxiety over the same object that was the source of the other wizard's elation.

Someone.  A cat…no, a boy.  Harry allowed himself to be cradled by the feeling that he found there.

The man in black was worried about someone for whom he cared.

Someone who was now in danger….

Himself.

Harry felt the scene dissolve.  Snape, Snape was worried about him; he was with Voldemort, and was biding his time to come and save him!

When everything disappeared in a dark tunnel, the boy had one last vision.  Something had attracted the Potions master's attention, and he'd looked up, troubled.

For a brief moment, Harry had the impression that their eyes had connected, that Snape saw him and really sensed he was there.

What was in that look, Harry would've never imagined seeing in his professor's eyes: worry, relief…and the promise that all would end well.

Without knowing why, this vision had seemed so much more real than his visit to Dumbledore's office…maybe because he hadn't had the feeling that everything about it rang false!

But he didn't have the time to mull over these details.  His entire body became aware of itself as he regained consciousness…

The room wasn't the same one, and this time he didn't recognize it.

He struggled up onto his elbows, trying to see the décor.  Probably a child's room.  There were toys lying on the floor, and a crib completed the peaceful and serene picture that the place inspired.

Once again, Harry saw two figures coming toward him.  They seemed vaguely familiar…where could he've seen them?  If only he had his glasses.

As if they'd been able to read his mind, both came to crouch next to him.  "Oh, Harry," said a soft, female voice.

The boy blinked. Red hair, green eyes like his own…  He knew where he'd seen this face: in the photos of the album Hagrid had given him.

"Mum?"

"Yes, my little one.  Your father is here as well."

Harry felt his heart squeeze.  This was so good…but why was he here, in this room?  "Am I dead?" he asked weakly.  His body still seemed painfully real and alive.

"No.  But we are," James replied.

There was something in his voice that made Harry start.  Reproach…

"I…I’m sorry," he offered.

"Sorry for what, my dear?"  his mother asked gently.

"That you're dead.  I would've really liked to know you."

"Us too.  We were happy, you know," Lily said gently.

"I know…  I regret not having more time," Harry murmured.

"We didn't have time either, Harry.  We were twenty-one when he killed us.  We wanted to live, we wanted to have lots of children.  We loved each other, but it all ended that night…and you survived."

"Yes…" said the boy uncertainly.  "I'll avenge you.  I promise."

"What good is vengeance?" asked James.  "We're dead.  It's too late to change what was done."

"It was my fault, wasn't it?" asked the boy with a sigh.

"I don't know, Harry, what do you think?" Lily asked gently.

"If I hadn't been there, he wouldn't have attacked you."

"That's true.  We could've lived long lives, had many children…normal children."

Harry's throat constricted.  "I'm sorry."

"For what, then?  For existing?  Yes, you'd probably have been better off dying that night.  But it appears you're special."

"I don't know…I don't feel special."

"No," James said doubtfully. "You're small, not brave or intelligent…hardly makes you worth it."

A third shadow came to join them, and Harry was able to recognize Sirius.

"I thought you were different, Harry.  I thought you were like James…but James would've never let me die.  I loved you, I considered you like a son, I would've done anything for you.  And you?  You killed me. Why?" he asked accusingly, his lively eyes wounded, full of anger and disgust.

"Sirius, no! I didn't want that!  I'd do anything to have you alive again, I swear…."

"Apologies, pledges….  That's all you're capable of doing?  You kill everyone around you, Harry!  You let them die for you…and you, what do you do?"

The three voices combined to accuse him, but Harry didn't hear them anymore.  He couldn't take anymore.  Not Sirius, not his parents…not them, not this….

"Ask for forgiveness, Harry," James demanded.

"Get up and ask us for forgiveness," Sirius echoed implacably.

He would've never imagined his parents this way…never had Sirius looked at him like this.  He wanted it to change, but he no longer had the strength.

Harry opened his eyes and stared at each one in turn, looked for encouragement or a bit of consolation…but he saw only the closed faces, and the cold and disappointed eyes of his parents.

Losing patience, Sirius stood with a disgusted look on his face, and kicked him viciously in the ribs. "You don't deserve for us to linger any longer…."

"No, please…don't leave me!"

"You can't even ask for forgiveness?" queried Lily sharply. "After all you've done to us?"

And Harry realized she was right.  He couldn't.  Not this way…something made him hold back, without his knowing why.

He closed his eyes, and when a Cruciatus finally hit him, he found his answer.

The vision of black eyes watching him, full of worry and still seeking to reassure him….  It was that expression that he should've seen in the three people surrounding him, and not this coldness and contempt.

And it was that glimmer that he held onto when the black once again invaded his consciousness.

There wasn't any light this time.  He felt himself floating, but the darkness was total.  He could only wait…

But the wait wasn't long.  He felt his aching body drained of strength, his mind more and more befuddled.

He had enough strength, though, to lift his head, which he did reluctantly.  He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to see what awaited him…

Bars.  That was the first thing his eyes encountered, and it seemed as if his heart stopped beating.  The old, so familiar bed where he was stretched out, the open wardrobe…he was in his room at the Dursleys!

No, not anymore. He'd escaped, and he'd been promised that he'd never go back again!

Footsteps rang out and he jumped.  The sound of locks being opened…  If only it could be…no, he shouldn't think of him.

Snape wasn’t' there, he'd never again be there.

His Snape no longer existed; he hated Harry.

He'd never come back.

Harry shouldn't think of it, especially not….

The door opened wide, and Uncle Vernon's massive silhouette came closer, like a threat.

"Back again, eh?" he growled.

"No…" Harry answered.  "No, I won't stay."

"Oh really?  I'd like to see that," Vernon sneered.

"I don’t' know what you want from me.  I won't burden you…."

"Burden us, really?  Do you think I called for those proceedings to get you back because of your pretty eyes, boy?"

"Proceedings…the trial?  No, what happened…no, Dumbledore would've never allowed it!"

"That old fool had nothing to say about it.  He was glad to get rid of you presence in his school.  Even the freaks don't want you, hmm? Not surprising.  Even to them, you bring trouble."

Harry felt his entire body begin to shake. He remembered well a scenario in Dumbledore's office, where the old man had been so disappointed, so furious, disgusted…he'd even hit him.

Hit?  Dumbledore?

Yes.  So much for them considering him a favorite.

And McGonagall…had cast a Cruciatus on him.

Oh Merlin, so it actually was true…they'd abandoned him, even they didn't think he was worth the effort.  Even Dumbledore thought he brought trouble.

And he'd sent him back to the Durseleys.

"Why?" Harry murmured.

"Why what, little moron?  Why don't they want you there anymore?  You must know why, eh?  Why did I make you come back here?  For several excellent reasons, boy."

Vernon's snigger sent shivers down Harrys spine.  Vernon screamed, shouted, laughed loudly, but snigger?  That couldn't be a good thing.

"The first is that I've been compensated to do it.  Someone who wants you to pay your debts, boy…like the rest of us, eh?  Someone who thought I'd treat you according to your true worth. And believe me, after what happened with Dudley, I'd know how to accommodate you."

"Dudley?"

"My Dudley. My son. A tall, handsome boy, with great qualities…just the opposite of you, little rat!  Even your parents didn't want you!"

Which wasn't false, Harry thought.

"Your so-called Dementors…they came back. They were looking for you.  But it's Dudely they found instead of you," Vernon said softly at his ear.

Then he fell silent.

It was at that moment, it seemed to Harry, that something definitely broke inside his chest.

Dudley.

Insufferable, horrible Dudley, who'd been the dreaded obsession of his childhood…dead, or just as good as, because of him.  Once again.

What could he say to that?

Nothing, especially when he saw a shadow come close to join Vernon: a figure that looked remarkably like him.

But as much as Vernon's eyes were full of fury and accusation, the new arrival's were even more so despairingly empty and lifeless.

Dudley.

Harry closed his eyes.  He couldn't look at them anymore.  He couldn't take anything anymore, full stop.

He heard voices, but he didn't listen

A hand shook him until he opened his eyes again, but only to close them instantly, just enough time to see the disgust and hatred on Aunt Petunia's face as she stroked the cheek of her dead son.

He didn't hearing anything more now.  He didn't see anything more either.  He felt someone removing his tee-shirt, but he didn't pay attention.  When the almost familiar sensation of a belt striking his back registered, it was joined by another sentiment that was just as familiar.

He'd deserved it.

He'd have thought he'd lose consciousness much sooner, but it seemed that his body refused to let him sink into it again.  He didn't know how long Vernon had been laying into him when the man finally decided it'd been enough.

Grabbing him by the arm, Vernon dragged him unceremoniously into the hallway, before hurling him down the staircase in the same manner.

Harry could've cried out, but not a sound came from his throat.

Through his dazedness, he saw a little door open in a tiny cupboard.  Hadn't it been larger before?  Had he simply grown?

Vernon literally threw him inside, and shot him one last nasty look. "You're never coming out of there.  Ever."

With that, he slammed the door violently, and Harry could hear the sound of the lock as it was fastened.

This time, it was black, truly black.  And so Harry was certain of one thing: whatever happened now, the light would never return.

                                                         ooooOOOOoooo

In the sitting room at Malfoy Manor, three very satisfied Death Eaters congratulated themselves over their cups of tea.

"I think we can now confirm that the boy presents no danger," said Lucius Malfoy, taking a mouthful of his drink.

"I've not had such a good day since the last battle at the Ministry," chuckled Bellatrix.  "Oh no…I even think this one was much better!  Potter is such an adorable little plaything!"

"Thanks to Snape's potion," Lucius agreed.  "Credulo. It makes every situation real for the one in it.  It's the first time that I've seen its effects, and I must say I'm impressed.  The boy didn't seem to have the slightly doubt."

"Your dungeon deserves all the credit, Malfoy," Nott corrected.  "Its effectiveness was incredible!"

"The equivalent of the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts," explained the master of the Manor.  "Except that it only obeys its owner…and to a much greater extent."

Bellatrix nodded.  "I really loved taking the place of that old cow, McGonagall.  I always thought I'd look good in a bun.  Wasn't I perfect in my role?"

"I think we were all convincing," Lucius said.  "The Muggle's accounts concerning Potter were particularly useful. A cupboard…the Boy Who Lived In A Cupboard, it's to die for!"

"All our Lord's information was precious," said Bellatrix fervently.  "He knows how to manipulate this stupid boy so well.  It was so easy, it was pathetic!"

"That leaves only two things for us to verify," Lucius concluded as he took a biscuit. "Let's allow him to recover for a few hours…as soon as the sun comes up, we'll finish this little comedy.  If all goes well, tomorrow at this time, the precious wizarding savior will become the Boy Who Succumbed Lamentably, and we, my dear friends, will become kings.  Believe me, we will…"

The three Death Eaters let out the same confidant and satisfied laughs.

Tomorrow, the world will have changed….

A few stories below, the boy was lying on the ground, unconscious.

His mind was far away, but his body, in spite of himself, refused to abandon him.

He'd not felt the walls close in on him, he only knew that he was shut away, and that he'd never see the light of day again.

It was better that way.

There was no time…no people…no memories…just resignation, a bit of fear, and pain.

Nothing mattered now.  

Nothing mattered.

When the door opened and the walls pulled apart, Harry thought confusedly that he shouldn't expect anything good of that…  But he was indifferent to even that now.

A potion was forced down his throat, and he heard someone incant a Rennervate.

His eyelids opened in spite of himself, and he automatically lifted his head up.

It was dark.  He'd expected that.  But he could still make out two figures in a corner of the room, two black, threatening figures….

The pain in his scar abruptly increased, and he recognized the presence.

Voldemort.

He took a few steps toward Harry, followed closely by the second shadow.

Harry recognized it as well now; he'd seen enough of him recently…Snape.

That was just as well.

"Potter… so here we are at the crossroads.  They were all so confident, so proud of you…and look at you, not even able to stand and face me.

The soft, scornful tone of voice almost sounded like pity….

If he'd been himself, Harry would've probably looked for a scathing reply.  But the time for that had passed.

Gathering his strength, moving a bit at a time, he finally managed to sit up, cross-legged, opposite the wizard who was looking him up and down, taking his measure.

Harry wasn't afraid.

Yes, perhaps he was going to die.  But he thought maybe not.  Simply dying would've been too easy now.

"So, Harry?  This is it?  You're going to let me kill you without a word, without a gesture for posterity?"

The boy looked toward Snape.  What was he supposed to think of the Potions professor?  Friend or foe?  He wasn't sure any longer.  But whatever he was, Harry shouldn't betray him.

Without a word, Harry shifted his indifferent gaze to Voldemort.

"Are you waiting for help from Severus, my boy?  It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" hissed the dark wizard with a laugh.

Harry didn't have the will to shrug his shoulders.  His eyes fixed on the red ones; he was just surprised that his scar wasn't making him suffer more, as Voldemort was getting ready to kill him.

"Very good.  No sense in going through the grand finale if Dumbledore's hero deigns not to participate.  Ready, Harry?  If you have a last great declaration to make to the world, now's the time."

But he didn’t' have one.  Contenting himself with holding his eyes steady, Harry thought that at least he'd not begged anyone.  He couldn't struggle, or hide, and the insults he could've offered would've in any case probably not be included in the story.

So let him try to kill him and be done with it.

"Severus?"

"Yes, master?"

"Put his chains back on.  Let him die like a prisoner."

The man nodded, and hurried to obey.

Harry didn't try to prevent him.  What did it matter?  Wasn't he a prisoner anyway?  The request seemed strange though….

And Snape as well.  He fastened the irons on Harry's wrists as tightly as he could, without a glance at the boy, without hesitation.

The image of the dark, worried look that he'd intercepted earlier struck Harry anew.

That look, that was his Snape.  Not the person at his side at this moment.

From this person, whoever it was, he expected nothing.

When he'd made sure of the chains, Severus returned calmly to his master's side.

"The last moments of your short, unfortunate existence, Harry.  And if I may add, totally useless and disastrous," said Voldemort amusedly.

On that, Harry wouldn't have disagreed.

The wizard with the reptilian eyes finally lifted his wand.

"Let's end this.  Avada…"

Harry's eyes didn't waver, his shoulders didn't shake.

But the red eyes gleamed only with  satisfaction, as the wand was lowered, the incantation unfinished.

An instant later, Voldemort's figure transformed into that of a more slender, blond Lucius Malfy, as Snape at his side took on the appearance of Nott.

"I believe we know all we want to know," said Malfoy with satisfaction.

"Our precious guest has no hidden power.  We have here nothing but a pitiful, defenseless little boy.  It's perfect, Potter.  Tomorrow you will truly meet the Dark Lord.  And your death, on the same occasion."

And with that, he left the dungeon, Nott at his heels, and the walls took their cage-like form again.

Harry took a moment to contemplate the idea.

So it'd all been an act.  There was something deeper there…but Harry was too exhausted.  He'd never been so thirsty in all his life.  The healing potion that someone had made him drink earlier was starting to lose its effect, and the boy was losing his train of thought at the same time.

It wasn't important anyway.

Tomorrow, Voldemort would really be there. He'd finally finish him off, and it was highly unlikely that anyone would come to his rescue.

For a moment, Harry felt rather disappointed.

Just tomorrow.  He still had to wait for that…

Letting the darkness take hold of his mind, Harry allowed himself a last reward.

For this last night, he permitted himself to take hold of the only thought that was still comforting, that of black eyes that called for him to hang on.

That of a gentle voice that called him Shadow….

At Nott cottage, the night had been long and trying.  The silence, the red eyes, the sinister laugh echoing in the room…

Severus could almost hear the boy's cries.  Actually, at one point during the night, he was even persuaded that he'd felt Harry's presence.  He'd turned around, looking feverishly for some sign of him, and it'd seemed for an instant that he could see those green eyes that'd haunted him for so long.

He'd obviously been dreaming.  From the anxiety and fatigue of having to continually Occlude his mind.  But those eyes, full of despair, were too troubling for him to simply forget them.

If Potter died there, that look would haunt him for the rest of his life…a life that wouldn't last long enough for him to lapse into a depression, he thought.

If something didn't happen quickly….

As if in fulfillment of his wishes, a flash of green flames appeared at that very moment in the fireplace, and Lucius Malfoy made his entrance into the cottage, obviously satisfied.

"My Lord, we've done what you asked," he said with a bow.

The red eyes glinted furiously.  "Come here, Lucius."

The man looked up and went to the Dark Lord, a slight trace of fear in his walk.

Without needing to hear the incantation, Severus knew immediately what the dark wizard was doing: a well-placed Legilimens for the Death Eater.

A few minutes passed before he finally broke the contact. Then, turning toward Severus, he said, "I take back what I said, Severus.  The boy expects nothing from you."

The Potions master bowed deeply. 

"Lucius, you've executed your mission perfectly.  I'm very pleased with your service…your choice of method has proven to be particularly wise.  Leave him locked up without disturbing him today.  I'll take care of finishing off his resistance.  This evening, at nightfall, have everything ready for…what did you call it, Lucius?  Ah, the grand finale.  Yes, it will definitely be grandiose.   Warn everyone that the ceremony will take place this evening.  We'll need a specially chosen place, won't we?  Severus, an idea?"

Severus felt his heart pound harder in his chest. "The Forbidden Forest would be ideal, my Lord.  Right under the eyes of Dumbledore and all those imbeciles who defended his cause."

The Potions master saw a gleam in the Dark Lord's red eyes.  "Interesting idea.  But I'd prefer something more symbolic…Godric's Hollow.  The cemetery at Godric's Hollow would be perfect.  At nightfall.  Lucius, have everyone gather there.  You'll bring me the boy; tonight, we will have come full circle."

Malfoy bowed, oozing satisfaction.  "Would you like me to prepare Potter, my Lord?"

"That will not be necessary, Lucius.  Leave him in his dungeon, I'll personally see to keeping him company, in my own way.  Simply make certain that no one comes near the Manor."

With a last gesture of reverence, Malfoy disappeared in a flight of green flames.

"Don't be frustrated, Severus," Voldemort said smoothly.  "You will have your chance to play with the boy tonight as well."

Severus murmured a few non-incriminating words before going back to work.

He'd taken his chance, without much hope…   Godric's Hollow?  It was truly the last place he'd expected.

What could Dumbledore and the Order really do at this point?  Were they counting on him to bring Harry back alive?  He really, really had to have a word with Dumbledore about the Order's effectiveness and priorities.  Because if Voldemort seemed reassured of his loyalty and the little hope that Potter had seemed to have in him, he still hadn't given Severus the chance he'd hoped for: to go and check on the state the boy was in.

No, the Dark Lord didn't fear for the life of the boy Who Was Going To Die Anyway.  The link that connected him to his mind was enough for him to know that the boy was at the end of his strength, but that he'd survive at least until this evening.  No, it was unnecessary to give an energizing potion to ensure he was conscious during the ceremony.

What Voldemort needed was a Theft of Magic potion.

Severus chilled at the thought.  Yes, he knew this formulation; he'd already prepared it.  The Dark Lord knew this since he always kept a bottle of the potion on his person.  But he'd need it fresh, potent, specially prepared for this evening, for his greatest enemy.

He wasn't going to be happy with just killing the boy; he also wanted to benefit from it: to take the power and strength that the boy'd stolen from him fifteen years earlier, thanks to his mother's sacrifice.

Yes, tonight, all would come full circle.

And Severus felt the weight of fate struggle within him.  It'd be useless to claim to not have the potion; there were available reserves of it anyway.  Impossible to weaken it as well; he could only make it correctly or fail to do so, because its inky blue characteristic color made it impossible to falsify.

Hiding his confusion as best he could, he threw himself into the brewing of the potion.  And of another as well…one he had to do correctly, at all costs.

The one he had to slip into the boy's mouth when the moment came, before activating the Portkey.  Just a few drops would be enough to make Harry take his Animagus form, and then, all that would remain would be to find a way to flee and escape Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and the wards.  A walk in the park.

Thinking quickly, Severus tried to imagine a plausible scenario…and after all, yes, this Theft potion could very likely turn out to be useful.  For it to be activated, and the powers transferred, the victim's blood had to flow, from the thief's hand or from one of his faithful.

He had to be the one.  Ha had to claim this honor, in the name of his loyalty, to be the one to approach Harry and make him discreetly drink the other potion.

Then make use of the confusion in order to flee….

He sighed.  Flee where, at what distance were the wards weak enough, how much time would they have?  How much of a chance did they have?

He'd succeed.  He had to succeed, even if it were the last thing he ever did…

Frowning, he bent over his cauldrons once again, the viscous fumes running down his face.  He sighed. It was inescapable: whether he died or returned to Hogwarts a hero that night, it would be with greasy hair!

                                                          ooooOOOOoooo

The doors to the dungeon hadn't opened again in what seemed an eternity, and that was a good thing.

If it were possible, Harry would've greatly preferred not to see anyone before the end came.  People…weren't good for him, and he wasn't good for them either.  People made him hurt.

And yet, he didn't feel alone in this cell…it was too small for another person to fit in there, he knew.  But he heard that voice…those noises…that laugh….

He preferred to focus on sensations: mostly the thirst he felt, the pain in his arm, his ankle…oh well, everywhere, really.

But the voice became more and more insistent, whispering words he understood without really grasping them.  A voice hissing in Parseltongue, like him….

"Harry…do you have regrets?  Have you understood now?"

Harry stiffened.  He didn't have the strength to speak, but it wasn't necessary: after all, the voice was in his head.

"Understand what?" he answered.

"That you can't defeat me.  That you've never had the power to do it."

"Probably," Harry answered a moment later.  "But I would've tried."

"And what good would it've done for you to play the hero?  You've lost everything: your family, your friends…  You're alone, and no one believes in you anymore."

"I never asked them to believe in me. I only wanted everything to be…normal."

"And is it normal that you're here now, alone and wounded, in the bottom of a dungeon, without anyone to rescue you?  Is it normal that you're getting ready to die for them, who've done nothing for you?" murmured the voice.

That wasn't exactly right, Harry thought.  But he was too tired to think clearly.

"Yeah, that's probably fair," he finally said.

"You're wrong, Harry.  Things could've been different…if you'd listened to me, if you'd come to me."

"Come to you?  For what? To kill and torture Muggles, and lord it over wizards? "  In his mind, he almost found the strength to laugh at this.  Join Voldemort…the idea was somehow quite grotesque and funny.

"We're one and the same, Harry.  And we both want the same thing: for the world to finally be just and normal"

"I don't think we have the same ideas about justice and normality," Harry said through his dazedness.

"Perhaps you listened too much to that old fool Dumbledore's stories," retorted the Dark Lord.

But Harry no longer wanted to play this game. He was tired, so tired….

"Doesn't matter.  Leave me alone.  Or kill me, whatever you want," he sighed.

"Yes, I'm going to kill you…unless you want it to be otherwise.  It's your choice, Harry."

"What choice exactly?  Follow you, become like you?  Not much in it for me," the boy ground out.  He only wanted to be left in peace…a bit of peace before dying, was that really too much to ask?

"Things aren't always as black and white as Dumbedore makes them out to be.  You still have a choice, Harry.   Submit yourself to me, become my ally, and you'll no longer be alone.  How could you be, with the link that connects us?  Everything can still be different.  Only you can decide," Voldemort finished calmly and soothingly.

To no longer be alone.  But he didn't feel like he was.  There was someone, somewhere…and it wasn't Voldemort.

Did he really think Harry would consider his proposition?  It was utterly ridiculous…after all he'd done to him, starting with killing his parents.

The Weasley twins probably would've already come up with a half-million sarcastic come-backs, but he didn't have the strength for it.  He took the simplest route.  "Go to hell."

"So, Harry. You've made your choice."

The presence seemed to disappear for an instant, and Harry felt relieved.  Then a huge sensation of cold swept through him, and as he tried to curl up a bit to warm himself, his scar suddenly seemed to split open in two on his forehead, sending an explosion of pain throughout his head.

Without knowing how, Harry found the strength to scream and bring his hands up to his scar, in a useless gesture to lessen the pain.

"Give up.  Call me your Lord and I'll stop making you suffer."

"No."

"You're not a hero.  No one sees you.  Give up now!"

"Never," the boy groaned in his mind.

"Never is a stretch of a word for the few hours you have left.  That could almost become an eternity," the voice sneered softly.

Harry waited for the world to go blank, to lose consciousness again.

But that moment never came.  The light had left, yes…but now, even the darkness wanted nothing more to do with him.

                                                            ooooOOOOOoooo

Studying the two bottles in his hand, Severus Snape thought that his profession had seldom so aptly reflected his life.

He held there the means to both save and lose the hero of the wizarding world, the only one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, if one believed an obscure prophecy.

One bottle to lose him, one bottle to save him.  And he was going to have to use them both.  Alternately Death Eater, professor, and spy—the duality of his existence was perhaps finally going to come to an end with these two potions.

To kill or to protect Harry Potter, his choice had already been made years ago, and he'd sworn once again sworn his faithfulness…with conviction.

Because he had to right his wrongs.  Because he owed it to Lily.  Because it was the only solution…and because he was able to do it.

The sun dropped lower in the sky, and the Potions master knew that the hour approached.  Before it was completely dark, their fate would probably be decided.

But the anxiety didn't intimidate him; he was eager to move on, anxious to have it over with.  He didn't feel able to bear one more day in the company of his master, as he leant back in an armchair, his red eyes gleaming, murmuring in Parseltongue and laughing to himself.

Torturing Harry.

The more time passed, the more Severus wondered if there was actually going to be something left to save that night.  After Lucius' handling, which Voldemort had qualified as having been particularly effective, the Dark Lord had spent the entire day undertaking the destruction of the boy's mind.

Would he even be capable of understanding what was happening, if he managed to flee with him tonight?  Nothing was less certain…and in any case, Severus couldn't count on him to help.

Setting the inky-colored potion on the table, he carefully stowed the second phial next to Dumbledore's Portkey in the lining of his sleeve.  The Dark Lord had scarcely paid attention to his work, and he hadn't had to explain the preparation of this second potion.  Not that this would've been a problem…he would've by far preferred to draw the wizard's attention away from the boy for a moment.

Severus just about jumped when he heard his master abruptly get up and walk toward him.

"Is it ready, Severus?" he asked lightly, as he examined the potion on the table.

"Yes, my Lord.  It will be perfect for tonight."

"I don't doubt it.  Of course, Lucius will bring several extra bottles in case there would be a problem with the formulation of this one," said the Dark Lord, with a furtive glance at his Potions master.

"There won't be, my Lord.  But of course, best to be prudent."

Voldemort looked at him piercingly, and finally hid the bottle in his wizarding robes.

"It's almost time.  Take what you need."

Snape quickly took up his leather bag.  The so familiar gesture suddenly seemed almost bizarre to him; it was perhaps the last time he was doing it…this bag would probably fall with him when….

No, he daren't think of it.  Even if he Occluded with all his might, he shouldn't think of being able to fail tonight.

An instant later, he felt the familiar sensation of Apparition seize him, as Voldemort pulled him to his side, then on to the cemetery at Godric's Hollow.

The place was strangely calm, without being peaceful.  How could that be?  He somehow had the impression that the village, which stood only a few steps from the cemetery, had been deserted.  Only for tonight?

He saw that Voldemort was slowly, almost reverently, drawing near to a tombstone. He had no difficulty guessing which one it was: the Potters' grave, where Lily lay…   A violent wave of hatred swept through him as the Dark Lord smiled, reading the names engraved on the tombstone.

Yes, someone had to die tonight…but if it was up to him, it wouldn't be Harry!

Already, Voldemort had done an about-face, feet planted in the middle of a pathway, releasing the summons for his Death Eaters to come to him.  It took but a few seconds to see twenty-some wizards appear, which constituted the Dark Lord's Inner Circle.

Quickly, they all positioned themselves in a circle, according to the pattern they all knew by heart.

Without a word, Severus went to stand to Voldemort's right, leaving a space between them for another Death Eater…the most faithful right-arm of the Dark Lord, one of the most dreaded as well, Bellatrix, Lestrange, who was waiting with Lucius for the moment to Apparate.

On the other side of the circle, Severus easily made out the Animagus, who could've provided him with an excuse, were he to need it: Wormtail, in all his splendor, bent over and jigging with pleasure, his silver hand shining in the last rays of the sun.

What could he be thinking, here, just a few steps from the tombstone of those he'd betrayed? Severus wondered.

But Pettigrew didn't seem consumed by remorse.  His tiny rat eyes flicked impatiently from his master to the tombstone, which had become the circle's center.

When all of them had found their place, and once again, not a thing moved in the cemetery, the Dark Lord finally lifted his voice.

"Here you are gathered once again, Death Eaters…among those most faithful to our cause, who will finally witness its consecration tonight.  Here, in this cemetery that shelters the bodies of James and Lily Potter, I will finally bring this digression to an end, fifteen years of it, during which my domination was contested.  Tonight, I will bring an end to the life of the one who is the cause of it…Harry Potter!"

An incredulous and enthusiastic murmur arose from the circle, and Voldemort smiled.

"In this very place where Lily Potter's sacrifice allowed her to almost annihilate me, I am going to take back what's mine by right, and thus finish off this mistake that bears the name of the Boy Who Lived.  And you, my faithful Death Eaters, you are going to be rewarded," said Voldemort in a low, confident voice.

Once again, a murmur ran through the gathering.

"Today," concluded the Dark Lord, "I take back my power.  And you, you will have his strength."

Raising his hand, he quieted all whispering in the circle, pointing at the Potters' tombstone with a finger.  "Lucius, Bellatrix.  How is our guest?"

At these words, Bellatrix burst into laughter of pure joy.  She came closer, her gleaming eyes fixed on her master, a big smile on her face. "My Lord, we couldn't get a word out of him. But he's alive, and ready for to receive you!"

Voldemort bowed his head slightly and smiled at her. 

Beaming with pride and maliciousness, Bellatrix went to take her place to the right of her master, without a look at Severus.

In the middle of the circle, Malfoy was firmly holding on to the boy, not to keep him from running away, Severus noted, but to keep him from falling.

"Have you followed my orders?" asked the Dark Lord.

"Completely, my Lord.  No one's opened his cell door since last night.  However…"

Seizing the boy by the hair, he forcefully jerked his head up, revealing his face to the onlookers.

"He seems to have been in good company," Malfoy finished.

Once again, a murmur swept through the gathering, but one of shock this time.  Severus restrained himself from taking a step toward the boy.  He didn't know what horrified him the most….

It would appear that the boy had been more than severely mistreated.  His limbs stood out at bizarre angles in several places; he didn't seem to have the strength to stay up on his knees any longer, and his breathing was weak and irregular.

But his face was the most striking.

Without his glasses, his eyes appeared larger…or was it just his face that made them look that way?  Because his eyes were empty, despairingly dull, without a glimmer of hope, or challenge, or contempt, or hatred, or whatever one would've expected to find there.

How many times had Severus ground his teeth when he'd seen that infernal gleam of insolence or mockery?  He would've given anything to see them there now.

The boy seemed to make out the shadows around him, but had no sense of what he was seeing, his large green eyes staring at the emptiness.  Between them flowed a rivulet of blood, falling straight from the reopened scar adorning his forehead.

Severus shuddered.  How long had his scar been bleeding?

Probably since the Dark Lord had been weakening his mind with the persistence and subtlety that characterized him so well, he thought.

Again, the question: what actually remained to be salvaged?  Wasn't it already too late?

He felt his hope waver.  He'd never before felt such pity as he did now, in face of this lost and resigned expression…what was left of the wizarding savior?

It didn't matter. He would go on to the end of it, whatever happened.

Voldemort's low, ragged laugh at his side almost made him jump.  One glance at the circle of Death Eaters confirmed that he wasn't the only one lost in the spectacle of Harry Potter, kneeling on the tombstone of his parents.

"Harry, do you recognize this place?  Have you ever even been here?" asked the Dark Lord ironically.

But the boy didn't even seem to have heard him.

"No?  You're home, my boy.  Isn't it very generous of me to have brought a little lost boy home?  I would've taken you to visit your house, but I'm afraid that it's now just a pile of stones. Be that as it may, you're more at home now, where you are.  With your family.  Your dear parents are only a few centimeters away, Harry, there, under your feet."

Once again, he got no reaction; not even a glint flashed through the boy's empty eyes.

"Tonight," Voldemort continued, "I'm giving you back to them.  There where you should've been long ago, and now things will be put back in order.  You'll no longer need your magic…or should I say my own.  So, I'll be taking it back again….  Wormtail?"

Pettigrew stepped forward, bent over and quivering, and held out a silver knife to his master.

"The same knife that allowed me, several years ago in a different cemetery, to end Lily Potter's desperate sacrifice.  Today, there will be neither combat, nor help from another world, nor evasion.   That era is definitely over."

The sun was now almost below the horizon.  Lifting the knife in the light, Voldemort let the rays play across the blade.

A bit of ceremony, Severus thought, but less than he would've expected.  Evidently, the state Harry was in made all commentary superfluous…and any attempt to humiliate or subjugate the boy as well.

Pulling the phial of inky-blue liquid from his robes, the Dark Lord slowly approached the boy, whom Malfoy was still firmly holding onto.  He had no trouble forcing the potion down the boy's throat, and with a brisk gesture, he traced a bloody line on the boy's forehead, cutting the scar he'd left there fifteen years earlier.  Soon, a light gray mist began to escape from the wound, which then circled around Voldemort.  Smiling, he took a deep breath, breathing in the surge of magic and strength that was leaving the boy.

Then, holding the phial in between the teenager's still apathetic eyes, he gathered a few drops of blood oozing out, joining the remainder of the potion.

The liquid instantly turned to mauve, bubbling furiously in the bottle.

Satisfied, Voldemort restoppered it and returned to his place between Bellatrix and Wormtail, both of them frozen in place.

Smiling, he addressed the Death Eaters again. "As you've been able to witness, each wound inflicted on Harry Potter will make me recover his magic.  As for he who spills his blood, he will possess the boy's life, or what's left of it.  You who have served me up until now, you will have the privilege of partaking of it, and by that action, of strengthening your bond with your master.  Each in turn, you will use this knife to this end.  When there's nothing more to take…."

With a solemn gesture, he lifted the remainder of the potion into the rays of the dying sun.

"Then, the world will belong to us," he concluded.

A bit ceremonial, thought Snape.  A bit grandiloquent.  But in a certain sense…oh well, he wasn't that eager to nitpick on the correctness of it.

The Dark Lord used his hands to play with the knife, grabbing it by the blade, and Severus' heart leapt.  Bellatrix!  He had to start with Bellatrix!  That way, he'd be the second to have a turn, and he'd still have a chance to get Potter away alive!

It seemed that the wait lasted an eternity, but when Voldemort finally held out the silver dagger, it was to Wormtail at his left that he handed it off.

As the little rat-like man headed, chuckling, for the boy, Severus felt the hope within him slip farther away.

Twenty-three additional wounds: that was what Potter would have to survive, before Severus had a chance to get near him.

Once again, a little blanket of mist escaped from the cut that Wormtail had just made on the boy's shoulder, and wafted toward the Dark Lord.  Then Pettigrew turned around, obviously relieved, and held the knife out to Nott.  Who himself, a few seconds later, gave it to his neighbor.

Strangely, Snape noted, everyone seemed determined to wound the boy just slightly, only making a few drops of blood flow from the mild gashes.  Had Harry's expression shaken them as well?

Still, when the turn came to a place left vacant, Severus believed that the cause had been lost.

Noting the absence of the Death Eater who should've been there, Voldemort turned nonchalantly to Bellatrix.

"Well, not a loss for everyone.  Bella, you've greatly earned having a double ration."

And with a sinister smile, he offered her the dagger.

Seeing Bellatrix's look of pure adoration, Snape knew that the witch was going to show she deserved this honor.  Advancing toward Potter with a sure step, she placed a hand on his forehead, and without hesitating, left a large slash on his throat that started to bleed profusely.

Eyes shining, she turned toward the Dark Lord, seeking approval.  A reptilian smile and a nod rewarded her, and seemed to give her even more energy than that which she'd just stolen from her victim.

The dagger was on its way again, inevitably, but despite their master's approval, no other Death Eater seemed to try to imitate Bellatrix.

Finally, the dagger reached the place left vacant by Malfoy, directly to Severus' right.

Without a word, the next Death Eater carried the knife to him, and Malfoy broke into a cruel and sardonic smile.

Letting go of Potter's wrists, he turned around to face him, and without releasing his grasp from his hair, pressed the knife at the corner of his lips, and drew a grotesque half-smile on the boy's cheek.

Satisfied with his masterpiece, he finally let go, and Harry limply let his head fall, only a hand on the ground keeping him from collapsing completely.

Obviously delighted, Malfoy turned his back to him and went to take his place in the circle, handing Severus the dagger with a complicit smile.

Severus returned the smile, his eyes shining, and took hold of the dagger.

Malfoy was a sadist, but he'd just offered him an un-hoped for opportunity.  He was waiting for him to complete his masterpiece; Severus was going to do exactly that… and in so doing, slip the potion into the boy's mouth.

For the first time in two days, luck, albeit slim, seemed to turn in their favor.

It seemed as if miles separated him from the boy.  Unhurriedly, he crouched in front of him and, grabbing his chin, lifted his head.  When their eyes met, it seemed to Severus that something deep in Harry's consciousness awakened…like a glimmer of recognition, an infinitesimal dash of hope that lasted only a second….

Lifting the knife, he took his turned to press it to the boy's cheek.  Then, with a long-practiced skill, he quickly unstoppered the little bottle on the inside of his left sleeve, hidden from their eyes, and drained the contents of it through the boy's half-opened lips.

The dice were cast.

In a second, the boy lying in the center of the circle disappeared, leaving in his place a black cat that slumped into the grass.

Around him, Severus heard the gasps of surprise and a few shouts, but he didn't waste time by turning to see the Dark Lord's reaction: closing his eyes, he said a quick prayer to whomever could hear him, and holding the cat firmly against himself, he unstoppered the second bottle, activating the Portkey.

Then waited.

And waited.

A cry of rage forced him to open his eyes again and verify the inevitable: the Portkey hadn't worked.  The wards erected by Voldemort were too strong, and the Portkey too old…

They were lost.

Severus Snape was perhaps a man without illusions, and without a doubt expected nothing more out of life.  But he wasn't a wizard who'd give up in the face of a desperate situation.

Protecting the cat the best he could, he brandished his wand, and bent down to avoid the attacks that would surely be erupting shortly; he dashed forward, determined at least to break the circle.

He'd scarcely taken several strides when a hissing sound made him look up, and he noticed, unsurprised, Voldemort's red eyes burning with fury as he lifted his wand in his direction.

The last rays of the sun died in the cemetery, as he heard the wizard pronounce the killing curse. No, Severus Snape thought, however this story was spun, it'd definitely not been a good day to die…

But Avada was never connected to a Kedavra, and all of a sudden, time seemed to slow, almost to the point of stopping.  There, where the last streak of sunlight lay in the little village, something had glittered, catching his eye.  Someone was sending him s signal….   How was it even possible for him to see it from this distance?

But he saw it. Or rather he saw her.  Lily.  Over there, in the ruins of a house, Lily was beckoning for him to come, and to hurry.

The revelation abruptly struck Severus: if anywhere near this place would be susceptible to skirting the wards erected by Voldemort, it was the Potters' house, there where they'd given their lives to save their son.

All he had to do was get to her.  All he had….

And suddenly time seemed to speed up, accelerating.

One look at Voldemort told him why the curse had never reached him: in the middle of the now-dispersed circle stood an enormous black dog with no more substance than a ghost, harassing the Dark Lord with all of its fangs bared, while a stag that seemed made of the same substance was wreaking havoc amongst the Death Eaters.

Without wasting time, Snape cast a temporary Protego before continuing on, desperately making for where the ruins of the house had appeared.

Streaks of magic flew all around them, and it didn't take more than a few seconds for the Death Eaters and their master to gather their wits about them again.

"The traitor!  Kill the traitor!  Bring me the boy!"

Needing no further encouragement, the Death Eaters who'd overcome their fear took off after him, hot on his heels, and despite his protective charms, Severus felt a throbbing pain spread through his shoulder.

Clenching his teeth, he hunched down and picked up the pace a bit, throwing several spells randomly.  A shrill laugh behind him informed him of the author of the attack: Bellatrix Lestrange was finding another way to prove her loyalty.

But the Marauders seemed just as determined to repay their debt to their former victim, and save the life of their protégé.  Doubling their efforts, they managed to buy several precious moments for the fugitives, sowing confusion amongst the Death Eaters.

The village seemed to be miles away; he felt the cat's heart beating feebly as he held it in his arms.

The house!  He saw it now.  Out of breath, refusing to look behind him, Severus ran as hard as he could for the ruins in front of him, within range now, a refuge where he could perhaps hope to get them out of this nightmare.

His eyes were clouded by the blood from a wound he'd not felt; he started to feel hope again.  He couldn't fail, not now, it was only a few more steps….

"Animagus revelio."

The spell had been cast at his back, but it didn't fail to find the right victim.

Before he had time to react, Harry had retaken his human form and collapsed to the ground when Severus was unable to hold him up, just a few meters from the threshold of what had once been his home.

Carried by his momentum, Severus stumbled over the boy's inert body, avoiding a spell that grazed his arm.  Regaining his balance, Severus pushed at the stone door.   The wall.  The house.  He'd just crossed the threshold without realizing it.

"Rennervate.  Imperio."

Glancing back at the spot where he'd just come from, he saw the boy stand up in spite of himself, and head in the Dark Lord's direction.  Swearing under his breath, Severus lifted his wand and, seeing his former master, shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

But a laugh answered him when the spell bounced off the wards, missing him by just a little.

Severus blinked, and the revelation hit him full force.  He'd left the outside perimeter of Voldemort's wards when he'd entered the Potters' house.  And he could no longer go back, now that his betrayal was known.

And as he watched powerlessly, Potter tottered along with the most unlikely of gaits, wobbling on his broken ankle toward the Dark Lord.

He had lost.  All was lost: Lily's sacrifice, Shadow, Harry.  He couldn't let him go, not now!

"Harry!" he shouted, and it felt as if all the accumulated despair of the past fifteen years was contained in that name.  "Harry!"

Against all expectations, fighting the Imperius and the linking of their minds, Potter managed to turn his lost eyes toward him, tinted now with a huge question.

Riveting his eyes to the boy's, Severus tried communicate through them all he'd hidden from Voldemort.  His worry, his hope, his regrets, all that he wanted the boy to know, no matter what happened.

Something in his expression must've reached Harry, because his eyes became more focused, as if he'd suddenly just recognized him.  Two steps away from the Dark Lord, it seemed as if the sight of Severus had given the boy hope again.

Still, they had lost.  There were lost.

Without breaking their connection, Severus shouted once again the only name that came to mind at that moment.  "Shadow!"

Somewhere in Harry's mind, it was if a switch had been thrown.  The black eyes…he knew this expression. He'd seen it in that vision, that man who was worrying about him, who told him with a simple look not to give up…it was him.  It was thanks to him that he hadn't been alone.

It was his Snape.  He was going to save him, and they were going to go back to the house…to the house.

An instant afterward, a black cat fell into the grass, incapable of keeping to its feet; it tried to crawl toward the Man in Black, over there, so far away…

Behind him, the other wizard let out a cry of rage, and the cat felt his threatening presence as he came closer to him.  He curled in on himself a bit, but even so, he didn't stop creeping forward. He had to concentrate on Snape.  There he'd be safe. He knew it.  It was the Man in Black who was telling him so.

But even without him being aware of it, the last of his strength left him, and he collapsed in the grass, without hearing the laugh that accompanied his fall.

Out of the dark wizard's reach, he finally discovered that the darkness truly wanted to welcome him….

                                                             ooooOOOOoooo

He'd believed it.  For a moment, he'd believed it a miracle: Harry had transformed, right in front of his eyes, when he'd called him Shadow.  Breaking the link that connected him to Voldemort, he'd tried to come to him under the stunned expression of the Dark Lord.

Severus was so very proud of him.

But the cat, no more than the boy, didn't have the strength to go the distance that separated them, and at that moment when he'd collapsed again, Severus Snape stopped believing in miracles.

He simply closed his eyes so he wouldn't see what was going to happen next.

But curiously, nothing happened in the seconds that followed the collapse of Shadow, along with his hopes, and Severus opened his eyes again, only to realize that once more, he'd been wrong on the matter.

There truly were miracles, and this one, for once, was directed at him.

The wind that'd been blowing a few minutes before had stopped, and the leaves in the trees swayed slowly…much too slowly…

In front of him, Voldemort and Shadow were still there, two figures frozen, just like in a Muggle photo

The only movement in this setting was the pale silhouette of Lily.

Slowly, she passed by Voldemort without even a glance.

Then she knelt beside Shadow, and with all the tenderness and care of a mother, she gently gathered the inert body of the black cat into her arms.  She stopped for an instant to look at him, an infinitely sweet look on her face, then got up and headed towards what had once been her house.

He eyes fastened onto Severus'; she walked tranquilly toward him, without paying the least attention to the world around her that had abruptly stopped.  Gently cradling the cat, she smiled, a bit sadly, no doubt, but determinedly.

When she halted a step away from him, Severus realized he'd held his breath since the moment she'd first appeared.

"Lily…."

But with a shake of her head, the young woman, who'd eternally be twenty-one, made a sign for him to be silent.

Then, like she would've done with a newborn, she stepped forward and held the cat out to him.  Without thinking, he took it carefully and settled it comfortably in his arms, as he'd so often done at the Manor.  The cat was still breathing, he noted, and his heart was beating weakly.

Looking up again, he searched Lily's eyes.

She was smiling outright now, and tilted her head to the side, just like she always did when she was happy.

She didn't tell him to take care of Harry, she didn't wish them good luck. She didn't need to.  But her lips moved slightly, and Severus thought he could read there, "He's yours now."

Taking a step backward, she left the house, her feet barely brushing the ground.

Behind her, a dog and a stag were calmly waiting in the midst of the Death Eaters frozen in time.

Before Severus had the time to realize, Lily made a small gesture of goodbye, and her hazy silhouette evaporated at the same time as her companions disappeared.

Suddenly, the leaves were rustling once again.

Leaping up, Severus didn't take time to gather his wits.  With one last look at the enraged red eyes seeking out the cat where it'd disappeared, he seized the Portkey in his sleeve and unstoppered it again.

This time, he felt the familiar hook snag him behind the navel and pull him backwards; he tightened his grip on the cat as they disappeared.

At that moment, Severus knew he'd just kept his promise.

They were going to get out of this.  They were going home.

The world took shape around them again, and Severus instinctively bent down before casting a Protego, prepared to face another attack.

Merlin only knew where that old fool Dumbledore had planned to land him fifteen years earlier… But one look around was enough to reassure him.

Staggering slightly, he righted himself, standing in the midst of the portraits watching him, intrigued. A fire was burning peacefully in the fireplace, and from his perch, Fawkes greeted them with a rustling of wings.

Dumbledore's office—where else?

With a sigh, he turned his attention to the still-unconscious cat in his arms.

He'd got it right—the Portkey had been fooled by Harry's Animagus form.

Without losing any time, Severus searched for a pulse…if Shadow tolerated superficial wounds better than Harry's human form, then obviously it didn't bode well for these.  His heart was beating weakly and irregularly.

Severus only hesitated for an instant.  The transformation would exhaust the boy a bit, but…he was out of time.  "Animagus revelio!"

Groaning, he slid the bag from his wounded shoulder.  It had survived as well, in the end.  The same thing couldn't be said for the potions on the inside…most had been destroyed by the Death Eater curses, or by knocking against the tombstones as he'd tried to escape from the cemetery.

Severus feverishly rummaged through the bag to find a potion still intact—finally!

He examined the boy lying on the rug.  His pallor was frightening, and he'd lost much too much blood.  His heart seemed to be faring better in this form, but….

One knee on the floor, Severus sat him up slightly.  Rubbing his damaged throat, he tried to make him swallow a potion.

"Harry, listen to me, one last effort, you have to swallow this.  Harry, try to stay awake for a moment. One more minute."

But that had already been a losing battle for many minutes now.

Cursing his broken phials, Severus was getting ready to fall back to what he considered his last resort when it came to healing—spells—when the sound of a door being shut made him swing brusquely around, wand in hand.

"Protego!"

"Unnecessary, Severus.  Thank Merlin, you're here…how is he?"

The familiar voice resonated like a gong in the Potion's master's mind.  Dumbledore was here.  This time, they were truly safe.

But he couldn't rest yet.  Harry still wasn't out of the woods.

"Poorly.  Where's Pomfrey?  He needs healing immediately; my potions didn't make it through the fight," said Severus, still holding onto the boy.

Frowning, Dumbledore murmured several incantations in Harry's direction.  The wounds stopped bleeding immediately, and his breathing became more regular.  Without wasting time, the Headmaster threw a fistful of Floo powder in the fireplace and plunged his head into the flames.  "Poppy!  We need you right away; bring all that you need and join us in my office!  Quickly please, Poppy!"

His tone brooked no delay, and in a few moments, the nurse came through the fireplace to stand in the Headmaster's office.

"Really, Albus, wouldn't it be simpler to…Merlin!" she squealed, as she noticed the figure on the rug.  "I thought that…what's happened to him?" she asked, casting a diagnostic charm.

"Just about everything, I suppose.  All they were able to imagine, in any case.  I made him drink an energy potion, but he's lost a great deal of blood."

"And he's not the only one," Poppy concluded, with a severe look for the professor.  "Several broken bones, dehydration, contusions, exhaustion, and especially the effects of Cruciatus.   And that's just the half of it.  Make him drink this," she said, handing several phials to Severus.

While the nurse cast the first of a series of healing spells, Severus did his best to make the boy swallow the potions.

"His heart rhythm is better, but he doesn't seem to want to regain consciousness," she said, her voice more anxious that Severus would've liked.

"He's exhausted his strength.  He's going to need plenty of sleep, in addition to continuous care," Poppy said.

"I'm sorry, Albus," the Potions master finally said, looking the Headmaster straight in the eyes.  "I wasn't able to act until the very last moment.  He spent two days with Lucius, Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord.  By the time I succeeded in getting us out of there, it was too late to minimize the damage.  I'm afraid his physical condition will quickly become the least of our problems."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but the witch was quicker; she had things to say as well.

"Severus Snape, you're incorrigible!  The boy is in good hands; I'd be grateful if you'd save your mea culpa until later, and go straight away and put yourself in your usual bed in the infirmary, instead of soaking the Headmaster's rug with blood!" she bellowed, her expression belying the harshness of her words.

Severus didn't know whether he should feel shocked or angry.

"It's nothing, just a shoulder wound, courtesy of Bellatrix."

"And another to your head.  And another to your leg.  And that's only what your robe permits me to see.  I suspect the only reason you wear black is to hide the extent of your wounds!"

Severus groaned.  What a time to critique his choice of wardrobe.  Had he really been wounded several times?  He hadn't been aware of it.

"I think Poppy has summarized the situation well.  It's out of the question to reproach yourself for anything, my boy.  You've pulled off a remarkable feat, and it won't be kept in the dark.  Might I presume that your career as a spy has come to its end?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus nodded. He was going to have a great many things to tell, and he felt fatigue cloud his mind as the tension he'd had to maintain recently finally fell away.

Still supporting the boy's head, he checked his pulse and breathing again.  He seemed less pale now, his features more relaxed.  The road ahead for him was going to be a long one, before he'd be able to feel normal again…if that were to happen one day.

"You can leave him, Severus," said Poppy Pomfrey more gently.  "He can be moved now; I'm going to take him to the infirmary."

"No!" Severus cried, a hand on the boy's forehead, startling the nurse.

"Albus, the situation is complicated; we're going to need all available wards. No one can know where Harry is!  It won't be long before they know anyway, but we must buy some time." He frowned, looking up at Dumbledore.

"Albus, would you have a Pensieve?  I'm not certain I'll be able to accurately relate everything that's recently occurred.  A Pepper-up Potion or two wouldn't be untimely.  In any case, the Dark Lord wasn't content to just torture Potter.  He sought to destroy him in every way, more particularly by stealing his powers.  We were treated to another of those little ceremonies Voldemort seems so fond of holding in the middle of cemetaries .  I prepared a Theft of Magic potion that he used on the boy.

"You know these potions, Albus.  They transfer the magic and strength of one wizard to another.  Voldemort used it to reinforce his connection to the Death Eaters.  He couldn't kill Harry without ending the ritual at the same time.  He has three days left to finish it.  I don't need to tell you what that means…."

"Voldemort and his henchmen are going to do all that they can to finish with Harry in the next three days," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Severus nodded.  If Poppy could only go to collect the potions in his office….

"You have nothing further to worry about, my boy.  Rest.  We're going to watch over both of you."

The Potions master groaned again.  Did he seem like a teenager in need of protection?  On the other hand….  "Potter is staying with me," he said, looking the Headmaster in the eyes, and challenging him to disagree.

A gleam sparked in the Headmaster's eyes, and he nodded.  "Very well, Severus.  Harry will remain with you."

And it seemed to the Potions master that as usual, Dumbledore had understood more than he should've from Severus' explanation.

                                                     ooooOOOOoooo

Severus had only a confused recollection of having traveled through the fireplace to return to his rooms.

Nothing had changed since his departure at the beginning of the holidays; still, it seemed as if something about the familiar rooms was different…and that was before Pomfrey decided to add a bed to his room for Potter.

They were there, now, in the dungeon, safe in Dumbledore's keeping; he had to remind himself that everything was all right.  But everything really wasn't all right….

Beside him, he could hear Harry breathing, who still hadn't regained consciousness.  Regular, still wheezing a bit.  The throat wound that Bellatrix had inflicted was still oozing, even after Pomprey's attention, as well as the grotesque smile that Lucius had tried to draw there….

Severus shook his head.  He wasn't at all certain about pushing the boy to wake up.  That empty, hopeless expression the boy'd worn during the ceremony.  What could they've done to him?  He was acquainted with the limitless imaginations of the Death Eaters when it came to torture, and Voldemort had seemed particularly pleased with Bellatrix and Malfoy.

There was only a week left until the start of term. Would Potter be in any shape, even physically, to attend classes?

There were still things to come before that day arrived.  He was under no illusions about the fact that if Voldemort had to pull out all the stops, it would be in the next three days, and the Death Eaters would've never been more motivated than they were now.  Hogwarts was well-protected, Dumbledore saw to that, but the entire affair had proven that the wards weren't infallible.

If only he could find an antidote to that potion, then perhaps…

Frowning, he arose from his chair and opened the door leading to his private library.  Perhaps he could find something…on the defense against the dark arts shelf, of course.

Behind him, he could hear stealthy footsteps.

"I seem to have heard Poppy tell you to rest while she went for the potions in your office, Severus?" Dumbledore said.

"Which is the only reason why I myself am not brewing fresh potions," retorted the Potions master. "I suspect that woman of possessing coercive methods vastly superior to those of the professors in this school."

"You're wounded and too exhausted to realize, my boy, but I think it truly wiser for you to put off your reading until later."  The tone of voice was definitely that of the Headmaster this time.

Severus groaned, pulled a book from the shelf and began to leaf through it. He was never too tired to brew a potion; it'd been years since he'd been trying to instill this notion into his students' heads.

"I'm the one who brewed that potion, Albus.  I must find a way to neutralize its effects…or at the very least shorten its duration.  Which I would've done from the start, if I'd only had a chance to—"

"Severus." The sharp voice made him look up.  "You did all that you could.  Now, if you want to help Harry, I need to hear your report.  I'm still having trouble believing that the Portkey worked after all these years.  It would seem…yes, I was very negligent towards both of you. I owe you both an apology, and doubly to you, Severus," Dumbledore sighed.

The Potions master frowned. "It's best not to leave Harry alone," he said, gesturing with his chin toward the door.

Dumbledore nodded, and without a word, he returned to sit in the bedchamber.

"I'll admit that several details of this affair escape me," said Snape.  "How was Harry able to be kidnapped by Lucius?  At the Ministry, no less?" And in your keeping his expression clearly communicated.

The guilt-ridden look that Dumbledore gave him was enough to quell Severus' growing anger.

"There's no explanation other than the one you've thought of, Severus.  I was not sufficiently vigilant," replied the Headmaster.  "Harry was by my side while I discussed the details of the interview with Cornelius Fudge…I didn't see him walk away.  I don't know why he wanted to leave; he seemed very troubled by what'd happened at the Manor just before our departure."

Severus ran a hand across his face.  He was really feeling tired now. "I know.  It's all my fault," he sighed.

He felt a hand on his arm.

"It would seem Harry's had an influence on you," Dumbledore said gently.

Yes, thought Snape, that was for certain this time; Potter had really had a bad influence on him.

"He didn't react as I'd hoped," he explained.  "At least not the result I expected.  Voldemort took advantage of the weakness I'd created in Potter's mind, to control him and push him into Lucius' hands.  That took only seconds and he tried not to attract any attention.  I don't know why all of a sudden the insufferable brat took my words to heart," he finished with an annoyed gesture that reawakened the wound in his shoulder.

What was Pomfrey doing, then?  An official inspection of his office?

"Here's the beginning of the story," Dumbledore sighed.  "It would seem that with the best of intentions, we both failed Harry.  It's clear now that I should've never agreed to the hearing.  But let's move on.  Were you there when Harry was taken to Voldemort?"

Snape nodded.  "At Malfoy Manor. I was the one who should've been at the Ministry, if I had responded sooner to the summons."  With another gesture of irritation, he swept the idea aside.  The whole affair was a huge fiasco from start to finish.  Or almost had been.

"Something aroused the Dark Lord's suspicions when Lucius retuned with Harry.  I was able to buy some time, but I was not permitted to stay with the boy.  I'm ignorant of what they could've done to him during those two days…when next I saw him, he was catatonic.  He didn't react, he didn't seem to see anything around him. I thought he'd recognized me when we came face to face, but I might've been wrong.  There's not much about those two days of which I'm certain," he finished.

"Be that as it may," said Dumbledore," I'm relieved that the Portkey worked despite the wards."

"It didn't work," Severus replied tersely.

"I'm not sure I understand…"

"You heard me. It didn't work.  Not until we were outside the perimeter of the wards.  And believe me. It was a long way," he said ironically.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment, incredulous.  "Do you mean to tell me that you fled with Harry Potter, right out from under the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?  Alone?"

"A fairytale to make Gilderoy Lockhart green with envy," Snape sneered.  "Yes, I snatched Potter right in the middle of a Death Eater gathering.  And no, I wasn't alone.  Definitely not alone."  For a moment, he played with a long lock of his hair, hesitating over what he should say.  Or believe.  In reality, he didn't want to relate that episode…  Lily…  That moment belonged only to him…and to Harry.

He shook his head.  There was no place for sentimentalism here. There had never been.

"The Marauders' last stand, I suppose one could call it," Severus murmured.

His eyes met the undecipherable ones of Dumbledore.  "You're right, Severus; perhaps a Pensieve would be useful," he said gently.

Snape allowed himself a slight smile.  He couldn't be cross with the old man for finding it confusing.  He himself wasn't entirely certain of what'd happened that evening.

At that instant, the door opened and Poppy Pomfrey burst in breathlessly, loaded down with potions.  "Albus, I believe there's something you should see," she said with a pointed look at the Headmaster.

"Poppy?" he answered.

"Really.  Professor Snape, if you'll take these potions yourself, this one as well, and make Potter swallow the rest of them.  Now, Albus, if you'll follow me?"

With a last look at the Potions professor, Dumbledore fell in behind the nurse and left.

Finally alone, Severus let out a sigh of relief.  First things first…Harry.

Seated on the bed, he sat the sleeping teenager up, taking care not to worsen his wounds.  One by one, he emptied the potions down the boy's throat, murmuring words of encouragement that he knew the boy couldn't hear.

When he laid him carefully back to the bed, the boy seemed less pale, but his emaciated features and the multiple marks scattered over his body left no doubt about the state of his health.

The professor pursed his lips.  All he could do now was wait…and brew potions.

Grimacing, he finally decided to take off his robes and the shirt sticking to his skin, soaked with blood.  Bellatrix had definitely had the upper hand, but Poppy was right, he could feel his body burning in different places.   Swallowing the potions in single gulps, Severus got out clean clothing and quickly applied some cooling charms to himself.

All things considered, he'd managed to get off very lightly.  An interrupted Avada Kedavra and not a single Cruciatus…the week had almost been a calm one.

Sitting again, he undertook an inventory of what he'd just consumed.  Blood-Replenishing Potion, Wound Healing, Painkilling Potion.  That old bag had forgotten the Pepper-up!  Did he have to do everything himself?

And what was Dumbledore up to?  Fatigue was beginning to gain the upper hand, and he didn't want to leave Potter unattended.

Before he had a chance to leave on the search for other potions, the door opened and Dumbledore appeared.  One look at the Headmaster's face was enough to confirm what Severus suspected.

"The Dark Mark?" he asked tonelessly.

The wizard nodded. "You and Harry are no longer safe here, not as much as I'd like.  All will be fine for tonight, but tomorrow, we'll have to hide you elsewhere.  Lucius Malfoy has his ways into Hogwarts, and with the support of the Ministry, I cannot guarantee that he won't manage, one way or another, to become a threat, even here in the heart of the castle.

Severus nodded.  In danger at Hogwarts…he'd never had this feeling, and paradoxically, the solution was simple.

"Snape Manor is protected by the Fidelius Charm.  We will be out of reach there," he proposed.

Once again, Dumbledore sighed. "History repeats itself," he murmured, his eyes suddenly older by ten years.

Or younger by fifteen, Severus thought, which, now that he thought about it, looked about the same.

"I know you must be tired, and Poppy asked me to make sure you drink this Dreamless Sleep Potion," he continued, "but before that, I would like to hear the end of your story, Severus, if you have the strength.  And if it's all right with you, I'll bring a Pensieve."

But the Potions master had straightened, indignant.  "That woman has no common sense at all if she thinks I'm going to sleep while Hogwarts is being threatened by Death Eaters!  I have a potion to brew, and the sooner it's finished, the sooner Potter will be out of danger.  As much as he can be, in any case.  This boy's always got problems."

"Severus," the Headmaster replied calmly, "how long since you last slept?"

Snape swept the argument away with a wave of his hand. "That's why Pepper-up Potion was invented.  Unless you have another Potions master handy, Albus, I don't see another solution; and in any case, I was the one who made that potion.  I would've thought your protégé's life more important to you than that," he said bitterly.

"Your life is just as important," replied Dumbledore, slightly startling the professor.

"My life is not in danger," Severus answered, avoiding the Headmaster's eyes.

"I know you take Harry's health very much to heart, Severus, even more so since this summer.  But you've lost a great deal of blood and you're out of strength, whether you admit it or not.  You must rest; we're all going to need you, Harry in particular.  You're of no use at all in the state you're in."

Dumbledore's tone of voice, even more than his words, made an impact on Severus.

Emptying his lungs, he fell back in his chair, his hands on his knees.  "She confided him to me, Albus. Lily.  She's the one who saved us.  Everything was over; we no longer had a chance, but she made one for us, she succeeded in freezing time and carrying Shadow to me so I could use the Portkey.  She carried him to the house to put him in my arms."

When he looked up, Dumbledore was looking at him again with that impenetrable gaze.

"Severus…whatever happened tonight…I've no doubt about what you believed you saw, but Lily is at most a ghost now, the pale reflection of what she once was…"

"You don't need to remind me," Severus growled.

"What I'm mean to say, my boy, is that if Lily were there tonight, and I truly wish to believe that she was, it's not impossible that she was able to play with time.

"But for her to carry Harry?  That's impossible; you know very well that ghosts have no real hold on our world," he finished.

"Still, she did it," retorted Severus.  "I couldn't leave the house; the wards prevented me, and Shadow was nearly thirty meters from there.  Lily froze time, took Harry in her arms, and carried him to me."

"The house at Godric's Hollow, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Realizing the Headmaster hadn't understood a word he'd said, Severus made an irritated gesture toward the Pensieve.  "Give me that," he grumbled.  "Let it be done with, and I can finally get to work on this bloody potion."

"Severus," Dumbleedore replied, his eyes hardening suddenly.  "Finding an antidote for the Theft of Magic Potion will very likely take you months of research, and its effects on Harry will have dissipated well before that.  Now, all you can do for Harry and myself is to put the entirety of you memories in this Pensive and then sleep!  Is that clear enough for you?"

Severus frowned as he stiffened in his chair; he'd not abandoned one tyrannical master, only to end up with an authoritative Dumbledore.

But now that he thought about it, the old wizard wasn't wrong.  Severus was deluding himself if he hoped to find an antidote tonight…and the healer in him knew that he needed sleep more than potions.

There was still another good reason for him to refuse to sleep now.

"I want to be here when Harry wakes up."

"I will stay here," Dumbledore replied, softening.  "I'll come and warn you."

"No, you don't understand.  I want to be here, the moment he opens his eyes. It's important."

Dumbledore gave him a questioning look, but then he could only shrug.  If the man didn't understand, Severus wasn't going to explain it to him.

"Done," the old wizard gave in.  "In any case, I'm going to need to study your memories."

Severus nodded.  Taking the Pensieve, he lifted his wand and began to gather all his memories of the past two days.

When he finally handed the basin to Dumbledore, he suddenly felt lighter, and ready to succumb to sleep.

"Thank you, Severus. You've been a great help.  I'm sure Lily would agree."

Frowning, the Potions master shifted his gaze to the boy who was still sleeping soundly.

He had to know.  He wanted to see the boy's eyes when he awakened, to be certain that the lost look he'd worn in the cemetery had only been a passing illusion.

And from the time he regained consciousness, he wanted Harry to know that he was no longer alone.  That Severus would never leave him again.

Afterward, only afterward could Severus sleep.

While Dumbledore immersed himself in his memories, Severus transfigured his armchair, and settled in at the boy's side, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

Outside, the Death Eaters were skulking around the castle. The Death Eaters, to whom Severus would never again belong.

                                                                  ooooOOOOoooo

He'd given his all, up until the very end; he'd given all his strength and he'd not realized it was failing him.

He only knew that he had to wait for the Man in Black, and that a creature that wasn't a man stalked him from behind, ready to kill him.

And then the blackness.  Softly and soundlessly, he'd slipped into unconsciousness.  Then something had glittered, and he felt himself floating, and everything around him was white.  That was what he'd seen.

She had long hair, a smooth face and her eyes as she looked him were both gentle and sad.

"Everything will be fine."

He wanted to believe her.  All around him, the world had burst apart like a shattered mirror.  He no longer remembered exactly how, but he knew he was more alone than ever.

"He'll take care of you," she said, pointing to a far-off figure.

The Man in Black.

Yes, his Man in Black was there…he'd come, just as he'd promised. He'd saved him.

Something warm surrounded him, and he saw the young woman's face move away.

"Everything will be fine now, my baby.  Everything will be fine."

Then the blackness again.

And the voices…

"They're all dead, Harry.  Because of you.  All dead.  You'll never be sorry enough…."

The blue eyes pursued him, even in the blackness.

"Pathetic, Potter."

Dumbledore…He'd come after him.  Hit him.  McGonagall too….

"Why, Harry?"

He didn't have an answer.  There'd been nowhere to hide...wherever he went, they'd find him.  Vernon was dragging him out of his cupboard, belt in hand.  Sirius was looking at him scornfully, evicting him from Grimmauld Place.

The Burrow was destroyed, and the dead bodies had nothing to say to him, but their pale, lifeless faces, in the midst of the smoking ruins, accused him without saying a word.

Hogwarts.  The castle had been his home since he'd arrived.  But Hogwarts was Dumbledore's school, and now, the old wizard's hate for him persisted, and he refused to be in Harry's presence.

He understood them.  After all, even his parents hadn't wanted him….

Crucio.

And Bellatrix was laughing…laughing….

And the knife kept slashing at his skin…

                                                            ooooOOOOoooo

Snape had allowed himself to fall into a semi-sleep, his eyes half-open, but the boy's agitation woke him completely.

Harry was moaning in his sleep, his hand weakly gripping the sheet.

Bending over him, Severus put a hand to his forehead.  The boy had a fever.  That was something to think about.

"Harry, do you hear me?  Everything is fine, you're at Hogwarts.  Calm down, you're safe."

His voice seemed to instantly calm the teenager, but not enough for him to open his eyes.  His skin was damp and his breathing irregular.

"Albus, could you stay with him for a moment?  I have what's needed in the next room."

The Headmaster nodded and went to the bed, then took the boy's hand in his own. "There, there, my boy, everything will be fine," he took his turn to murmur.

But unlike with Severus, his words seemed to alarm the teenager even more; he began to kick out with an energy ten times his usual strength, trying desperately to get away from the Headmaster.

In the blink of an eye, Sevuers was beside him.  "Harry, everything's fine.  It's only Professor Dumbledore…we're here, no one will hurt you," he promised, with a hand on the boy's forehead to hold him in place and keep the wound in his throat from being made worse.  Frozen, he seemed to be in the grip of a dilemma.

"My boy, you're at Hogwarts, safe and sound," Dumbledore added calmly, patting the hand he'd let go.

Soon, Harry was struggling again, evading the Headmaster's touch.

Seeing the blood soaking into the sheet, Severus rapidly scanned the boy's wounds: several had reopened due to his agitation, and were bleeding again.  Without hesitating, he wrapped the boy in his arms, holding him against himself to keep him still.

"Quiet.  Quiet there, Shadow.  Everything is fine, I'm here, no one will hurt you, I'm here," he murmured at Harry's ear.

The boy moaned but relaxed his arms, letting his head fall back to Severus' shoulder.

Severus slightly loosened his grasp and ran a hand through the boy's hair.  "There.  That's very good, you're safe, I promise you."

Continuing to stroke Harry's hair, he murmured a quick spell to clean and re-close the wounds.  Especially his throat had suffered from his abrupt movement.  He was going to need Scar-healing salve.

Lifting his head again, he suddenly remembered the Headmaster was there, and couldn't help but blush slightly.

But one look at Dumbledore was enough to reassure him; far from the mockery he expected to see there, it was a glimmer of sadness that passed through the old man's eyes. 

"Albus, could you go to my office and get some salve?  A white jar, on the shelf…and some fever potions and Blood-Replenishing ones as well.  You won't have any trouble recognizing them, I think."

The old man nodded and left without a word.

With him gone, Harry seemed to relax a bit more. Sitting back on the bed, Severus was thoughtful.  How unaware was the boy?  Was it really possible that….

Dumbledore once again crossed the stoop into the room, and it seemed to Severus that the boy tensed.

"Fever potion, please," Severus said.

The Headmaster held out a red-orange phial that Severus carefully put to the boy's lips, supporting his chin with his other hand.  "Harry, please, do it for me, you must swallow this."

The boy moved his head slightly, but didn't otherwise react.

"Severus, do you want me to help you?" Dumbledore proposed.

He'd barely spoken when the boy became agitated again, and the Potions master had to tighten his grasp to keep Harry from hurting himself.

Groaning, Harry seemed to want to both flee from the Headmaster's voice and hide against Severus, who was holding him against him.

"Albus, I believe it'd be best if you stay away," he suggested, reflexively stroking the boy's arm to calm him.

Reluctantly, Dumbledore withdrew to the other end of the room, his step heavy.

Severus thought it particularly ironic to see Precious Potter hide against him to get away from the Headmaster, but he didn't quite experience the triumph that he should have.

Harry'd been afraid of Dumbledore…the wizard whom the boy had always seemed to consider as a sort of too-indulgent grandfather, accepting only the Headmaster's and McGongall's authority; here he was now, dreading his presence….

What could Malfoy and Lestrange have done to him, then?

Shaking his head, he took the potion he'd placed on the bedside table.  After all, it'd be easier to hold his head this way.  "Drink, Harry, this is for the fever.  Very good.  This is for your blood, now…  That's perfect."

Come to think of it, he'd never showered the boy with so many compliments in five years of class.  But things were different now.  This was his cat.  His boy.

It was his turn to swallow hard.  Very well, he'd said it, or at least thought it.  Because yes, it was how he thought of him.  For the first time in a long while, he'd found a real reason to keep on fighting, and he wasn't going to abandon him.  He wanted it this way…and Lily did too.

And speaking of Lily.

"Albus, did you find what you wanted to see in the Pensieve?" he asked the Headmaster.

The man nodded.  "Your conduct was positively heroic, my boy," he answered.

Severus groaned.  What was the old fool thinking now?  He'd done nothing more than what he'd done so many times before…and it'd taken him two days to save Potter.

"As I told you earlier, I owe you my apologies," Dumbledore continued.  "I should've long ago given you a new Portkey, a more powerful one…and I should've foreseen that circumstances might require that you carry a passenger.  I almost caused both of you to be lost, it's unforgivable."

Severus sighed; if this night should turn into a group therapy session, they'd never get to the end of it.

"Albus, we all made mistakes, myself first and foremost.  The important thing is that Harry is safe now.  Did you see…"

But the name remained lodged in his throat.

"Lily?" Dumbledore finished for him. "Yes, I saw her."  Under the professor's glittering eyes, he went on, "There's no doubt about the fact that Lily and the Marauders definitely came to your rescue, Severus.  I'm still not sure I understand how all that managed to unfold…but in more than one sense, I believe that we've come full circle."

"You don't think she'll be coming back again?" Snape asked quickly.

"I think Lily finished what she came here to do," Dumbledore said gently.

The Potions master didn't reply, but caught himself stroking the boy's hair again.  

"You were also correct that Lily brought you Shadow, as you call him," continued the Headmaster.

Snape shot him a look, a mixture of exasperation and satisfaction.

"However, she didn't carry him in the true sense of the word.  You missed a detail, and considering the circumstances, it'd be hard to fault you for that."

"Might I know what it was?" Snape asked curtly.

"Just as I told you," Dumbledore said with a small smile.  "Spirits, ghosts and other apparitions cannot take hold of the physical realm.  Freeze time for an instant, yes.  Carry a body, even that of a cat, is unfortunately impossible.  By the same means, the Marauders were able to frighten the Death Eaters, but not wound them physically.

"Lily used the same strategy that fist time she entrusted Harry to you, a few weeks ago."

"The bracelet," Severus murmured.

"Yes, the bracelet," Dumbledore confirmed. "Harry was still wearing it, and it's a good thing. Miss Granger deserves a medal for her find."

"She'll have it," Snape agreed thoughtfully.  "I always thought that child was much too intelligent for her own good…at least as intelligent as Lily."

Dumbledore nodded.  "Women have this way of knowing what's good for those they love."  And seeing Harry with his face pressed against his professor's shoulder, Dumbledore didn't doubt it for an instant.

                                                           ooooOOOOoooo

He'd come…the one who'd thrown him out, he was there again, close to him.

Harry wanted to flee, but he couldn't manage it.  It was like running through thick mud; he knew the man didn't want anything to do with him, that he'd done something bad, that he didn't have the right to be there, but what could he do?  He didn't want to be hurt again…

And then he'd heard the other voice.  The one he dreaded and sought at the same time.   He'd sent the threatening presence away and then had talked to him.

What he'd said, exactly, he wasn't sure…but he was there.  He was speaking softly, as if he were purring, and he was there, arms around him, to protect him.

Protect him?  Really?

He knew that voice, it was the Man in Black's.  The man who shouted at him in class, who hated him for what his father had done…and his black eyes glittered with contempt.

The same eyes that'd burned with worry just a few hours ago.  Hours? Days?  Weeks?  Didn't matter.

No, what was important was…was this the same man?  What was he supposed to think?  Friend or enemy?

But he couldn't have a friend; they were all dead.  They hated him, they'd thrown him out of everywhere….

Of everywhere except the dungeon.  By the fire, the cauldrons were heating up, and the Man in Black was busy with his potions.

The Potions master.  Snape.  Snape hated him, he knew it.  But he'd saved his life several times, and….

He'd let him stay at the Manor.  He hadn't thrown him out.

Except when Dumbledore had come for him.  Then he'd become the scornful Potions professor again, and had told him that he had to leave.

But Harry'd seen him after that, when Lucius had taken him away, Snape was there, somewhere; he was watching over him and waiting for the chance to save him.

That was really it, wasn't it?  He couldn't hate him, not his Snape; it'd all been an act, a sinister comedy, but indispensable.

He couldn't throw him out.  He was the only thing that'd held him together when the world seemed to fall in ruins around him, the only thing that'd kept him from going mad, from giving up.  He would smell his scent, the comfort of his arms when he carried him, and the tone of his voice when he talked to him, the one he kept for Harry alone….

It had to be true.

For once, for one single time, something had to turn out right.  He wasn't asking for anything more; besides, he didn't have anything else.

Bit by bit, and in spite of himself, he felt himself being pulled from this emptiness that was both frightening and comfortable, in which he'd bathed for what seemed like an eternity.  H could hear the fire, the sound of breathing close to him, and that scent that was so familiar.

Summoning all of his will, he finally managed to open his eyes, blinking to make the world a bit less blurry.

When at last he could make something out, the first thing he saw was Snape's face, his features drawn, bending over him, and those black eyes brimming with worry, watching him, almost fearfully.

Then Snape spoke, just two words.  "Forgive me."

And with the slightest of smiles on his face, Harry Potter closed his eyes again.

It was hot and suffocating.  There was something in the air that made the night electric.  A storm?  No…maybe.  That light in the distance, he recognized it; that house, he'd seen it before.  But he wasn't the only one making for the door; ahead of him, a furtive shadow was already opening it.   A large black silhouette, two red gleaming eyes…  No! The room, there was still time, he wouldn't let him do it; from within, James Potter shouted for Lily to save Harry, and she was there with the baby, much too fragile and defenseless… No. Already the steps echoed in the stairwell, and he brandished his wand, standing between Lilly with the baby and the man who'd just appeared, his red eyes glittering like they always did when he came to kill.  When he was going to kill. No! But the scene froze, and a hand came to rest on his own, lowering his wand. He turned his head reluctantly, knowing in advance what he was going to see.  The dreams were always the same, after all. Lily, so pale, she who was so full of life, and so peaceful as well, even though she'd screamed just a moment ago. She smiled at him. "It's too late." No. He didn't want the dream to go on, not yet; he didn't want to see the smoking ruins again, Lily's lifeless body, on that night…and the stars sparkling as if the universe could still continue to exist. It was always too late… He was there, though, in the ruins again.  Not smoking, this time.  The ivy had grown through the walls, and the furniture had disappeared.  There was indeed a body, however, a teenaged body…and he was still alive.  No, he didn't look all that much like James, seen from here, not as much as he'd always thought. And he wasn't too late. Raising his wand, he turned around.  The red eyes stared at him, dissecting him.  And in his turn, Voldemort lifted his hand. "Protego!" shouted Severus, positioning himself above the boy's inanimate body. The black silhouette was thrown through the wall, and melted into the night with a cry of rage. But the eyes remained there, glowing red in the darkness of the house's ruins, and Death Eater masks surrounded them, empty and threatening. "Always too late," hissed the wind…or was it a voice? The masks began to rotate slowly around them. "Too late," they chanted, "much too late." "No," he replied calmly. "You will not have him." At these words, the pale faces became transparent, until they evaporated like steam.  The red eyes lingered for an instant, then they, too, disappeared. The ruins weren't really there now, and the high perimeter walls of the castle surrounded them.  Here, they feared nothing; they were under Dumbledore's protection.  And yet, he could still hear the wind hissing, and a pounding at the walls.  He lowered himself to better protect the body at his feet. "I have to go." Go?  Why?  Where? To protect him. "I have to go." So, he would go.

Dumbledore's face was just above his own, so close he could almost feel his breath.

Severus jerked backwards, fumbling for his wand, before realizing where he was.

"Severus, I'm sorry to have to waken you, but you have to go."

Yes, he'd understood that.  What time could it be?

"It's almost noon," Dumbledore answered his unspoken question. "I would've liked to let you rest much longer, Merlin knows you need it, but a delegation from the Ministry is due to arrive at any moment.  It wouldn't be wise for you to still be here."

Severus groaned and tried to get up, but a weight on his chest held him down.  With a glance, he identified it: Harry.  Had they fallen asleep this way?

"Harry hasn't awakened since you yourself fell asleep," continued the Headmaster."  "I've had some provisions prepared for you, and Poppy insisted on leaving you a supply of potions; she thinks they could be useful to you straight away.

"She did well," Snape admitted reluctantly.  His own supplies had been very diminished lately.

Moving the boy to the pillow, he quickly examined him. He was still pale and his breathing was worrisome, but at least he seemed to have stabilized.  He wouldn't have trouble transporting him, with the help of a few charms to keep him asleep.

There was still something indefinable that wasn't right about the teenager.  Thinking for a moment, Severus murmured a rapid incantation.

In response, Harry began to radiate a weak, pale yellow aura.

"Albus, come and see this."

"A problem, Severus?"

"It's Harry. His magic is weaker than it was when we returned yesterday.  The Dark Lord is continuing to steal his powers."

The Headmaster frowned.  "I'm fairly certain that Voldemort has entrenched himself just outside in the Forbidden Forest.  I don't know it that proximity is necessary; however, we've perhaps neglected a small detail: the connection that exists between their minds."

Severus pressed his lips together.  "We're leaving.  The further we are from that, the better.  Albus, keep me up to date, send us supplies.  I have what'll be needed to make potions on the spot.  If Harry needs something in particular, I'll let you know."

"No need for me to remind you how dangerous it would be for you to leave the Manor, Severus?  Your life is in as much danger as Harry's now."

The Potions master swept the argument away with a hand. 

"I doubt that even Voldemort would dare penetrate your hideout, Severus," Dumbledore said with a smile. "The rumors concerning the protective spells gracing the grounds are the stuff of first year students nightmares."

"Only those in Hufflepuff, I'm afraid.  That's never stopped certain Gryffindors," growled Severus.

Their eyes met, and it would've almost been easy to believe that the start of term was only a week away, and that it was just a matter of preparing for the students' return.

Almost.

Just beside them, Harry was restless in his sleep, and Severus leant over to place a hand on his forehead.  Without a word, Dumbledore handed him the bags of provisions and potions; the Potions master took them and bent down to lift up the boy.

Definitely much too easily….

Harry in his arms, he headed for the fireplace.  "Be careful, Albus  On top of it all, we don’t  want to see history repeat itself," said Severus, his voice full of hidden meaning.

"I'll be in touch as soon as possible," Dumbledore reassured him. "In the meantime, you've nothing better to do than to rest. Make good use of it; start of term is only a week away!"

Severus nodded, thinking that this week strongly chanced being the longest of his existence.  Between the Death Eaters and Harry…how was he going to react, once he was conscious again?  After what had happened to him the last time he'd been at the Manor, he shouldn't expect to find Harry very enthusiastic.

Not to mention his reaction to Albus.  There was something behind all of this that made him guess some difficult times lay ahead.

But one problem at a time.  He nodded to Dumbledore, who threw a handful of Floo powder for him, then stepped forward into the fireplace without hesitation.

"Snape Manor!"

It seemed the boy flinched when he heard the name; tightening his grip, Severus stepped out purposefully into the laboratory he'd left several days ago.

Unlike his rooms at Hogwarts, the dungeon didn't seem to have changed.  Not in the least.  Especially now that Harry was here….

And yet…

He quickly transfigured an armchair into a bed and laid the boy there.

So, here they were now.  The supplies would last for the next three days, and the potions shouldn't present a problem.

Rummaging in the sack that Poppy had stocked, he pulled out several bottles. Then, turning toward Harry, he ended the spells keeping the boy asleep.

"Harry?"  No response.  "Harry." He shook his shoulder slightly.

This time, his eyelids opened sluggishly.  He blinked his eyes, his expression dazed, before he noticed the Potions master at his side.  Frowning, he tried to gather his wits about him.

Snape.   That smell…the dungeon. Really?  Since when?

Hands helped him to sit up, and he didn't try to escape them. 

"Drink this," said the professor as he pressed a bottle to his lips.

He obeyed without thinking.

"Very good. Another."

Three bottles later, he felt the world become blurry again, and lost touch with reality.

It wasn't important.  In his dreams, he was in the same place, after all.

Severus watched the boy drop off to sleep again.  Better that he fully regain his strength before being faced with his memories.  On the other hand…Severus needed some time to think as well.  Things had never before been so complicated; whether he had to hide information or recite the depths of his thoughts aloud, the end result was clear, and the means as well.

Spying and irony held no secrets for him.

Psychology, on the other hand, was a different matter.

It wouldn't have presented a problem if he'd had to manipulate Potter, but he wanted something else.  He wanted the boy to understand.

Could he make a potion for that?

Perhaps. Most likely.  There was a potion for everything.  Except for the most important things, he thought bitterly.  Like preventing someone from dying, or having his powers stolen from him.

But for the moment, there were more urgent matters to attend to. He had to build up a new stock of healing potions.  He hesitated: should he take the boy up to his room?

He couldn't watch over him that way…and then, Harry had seemed to like the ambiance of the laboratory, he remembered with a slight smile.

Yes, the boy was perhaps repairable after all.

Pulling the coverlet back up to the boy's chin, he brushed the hair from his forehead.  Life truly was ironic, wasn't it?

All because he'd taken in a cat.

He didn't know how he was going to resolve this situation, and get Harry out of danger, but he was going to do it.

And right away.

As it usually was when Voldemort wasn't there to watch him, preparing potions relaxed him considerably, allowing him to think on the situation.

The healing potions were the most pressing, but he needed to quickly stabilize Potter's magic.  If it continued to drop despite their change of domicile…well, the situation would be serious.

He'd not wanted to think about it anymore while they'd been at Hogwarts, but

what would happen if the link between their minds truly allowed Voldemort to continue to draw on Harry's powers?

The answer was simple: short of killing him, he'd turn him into a simple Squib, and without magic, the boy would have no chance of fulfilling his destiny.

Severus felt his stomach knot.  That idea, when one came down to it, wasn't all that unpleasant.  Harry without power, without a prophecy, would be a Harry without the risk of getting himself killed from one moment to the next, wouldn't he?

He shook his head.  It was stupid and ill-advised.  And somewhat egotistical.

Lost in his thoughts, it took Severus several moments to realize there'd been a change in the boy's breathing.

He nearly jumped when he saw the two green eyes staring at him from beneath a frown.

Abandoning the bottle he was getting ready to fill, he went to Harry, who seemed even more agitated.

For an instant, the two of them stared at each other, the Potions master assuming his most neutral expression.

"This isn't real, is it?" the boy finally asked.

"On the contrary, all of this is very real, Mister Potter.  Welcome back to the land of the living," Snape replied calmly.

"It's got to be a dream," Harry murmured.

"I can assure you that you're wide awake.  Perhaps not in full possession of your faculties, however," said the professor.

"Sure, you'd say that even if you were a dream," the boy argued.

"That's highly likely, indeed.  Is there something I can do to convince you that you're awake, or will you be content with just drinking the potions you need."

"You're supposed to shout at me."

"Really?" asked Severus with a slight smile.

"And I don't have the right to be here anymore.  You never change your mind.  It's still a dream…  I'd really like to dream about something else.  I think.  For sure.  About the Burrow, for example…no, not right away, it's too noisy there, I have a headache…or Hogwarts, then.  No.  I don't know."

Harry sighed and covered his head with his arms.  "I don't know."

No, clearly he didn't know anymore, Severus thought.  And that was a large part of the problem.

"There'll be many things we will have to talk about when you're better, Mister Potter.  While we wait, just know that you're welcome here, and not only in your dreams. In fact, for the moment, it's even extremely inadvisable for you to leave the Manor.  As for changing my mind, that's one of the things we'll be discussing.  For now, rest, and try not to torture your mind with…whatever it is."

The boy moved an arm just enough to be able to look at his professor.  His eyes seemed to have difficulty focusing, giving him that uncertain expression he'd worn so often recently.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what, Mister Potter?" Severus replied.  There were certainly a huge number of 'whys' to which he was going to have to answer.

"I don't know."

Severus sighed. "Try to sit up and drink this," he said as he held out a potion.

With difficulty, the boy tried to come up on his elbows, before falling back heavily to the bed.

Wordlessly, Severus slid an arm behind Harry's shoulders and lifted him, then gave him the potion. 

Harry sighed. "What's this one for?"

"Nutritive potion.  I doubt you're in any shape to eat just now," the professor replied.

Harry drank the potion without a protest.  Then, looking at the Potions master again, he asked, "Why?"

Severus sighed. "Why what this time, Mister Potter.  This little game risks quickly becoming irksome for everyone, you realize."

Silence, then, "Why arm I here?"

"Ah, a pertinent question, I must say.  Primarily for your protection, Harry, and to allow you to recover from your injuries.  Does that answer your question?" Severus asked, not very hopefully.

"I’m not sure.  No, not really," said the boy.

"As eloquent as ever, I see.  Very well, elaborate on your question."

"I…I shouldn't…I know…" Harry stopped.

"What do you know, Harry?" Severus insisted gently.

"I know you don't want me here," Harry let out, frowning as he waited for the professor's answer.

"Potter…Harry, certain things are definitely not what they seem to be.  Recently, the situation has been particularly delicate, requiring more…acting on my part than I would've liked."

"I don’t' understand," Harry answered.

Which wasn't very surprising, Severus admitted to himself.

He swallowed visibly.  "I told you I regret what happened, and I did believe that.  My attitude toward you, although arising from good intentions, had been misguided and inappropriate, as the facts demonstrated," he said, hesitating over the dignity and degree of sincerity the statement required.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd so openly and sincerely made such an apology, and he didn't intend to repeat the experience for a very, very long time.

"I still don't understand," Harry said. Utter confusion was clear in his expression.  "I don't remember…or I thought that…oh."  He seemed to come to the answer on his own, evaluating the last of the information.

Severus waited patiently for the boy come out of his reverie and pay attention to him once again.  "I'm truly sorry for all that happened.  The circumstances surrounding your capture are actually to a great extent my responsibility.  Wanting to sever the link that allowed the Dark Lord access to your mind, I in fact reinforced it," he explained.

"Oh," Harry said.

Severus raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of it.

"I…I'm sorry," the boy took his turn to say.  "I'm not sure I understand.  No, in fact, I'm fairly certain that I don't understand.  But that's really not important, is it?" he finished in a breath.

"How so, Mister Potter?"

"You have the right to hate me, just like the others.  Like before.  Well, even more, I suppose." Harry sank back to the bed again.

"Precisely what others are you speaking of?" Severus asked.  At this rate, the enigmatic conversation could last for days without them getting anywhere….

"I don't know.  Everyone," Harry sighed, curling up on the bed as if to go to sleep.

"Might I know what gives you the impression that everyone hates you, Potter?" Severus persisted, raising his voice.  Out of the question for the boy to fall asleep with that on his mind….

But Harry didn't open his eyes again, content to snuggle a bit more into the coverlet.  "I just know it, that's all.  You too, in spite of what you say…what I think you're saying…doesn't matter."

"Potter," Severus said again, feeling his patience drain away.  "Harry. Having seen the reactions of both the Headmaster and Madam Pomfrey when you reappeared after your little adventure with the Death Eaters, I can assure you it's completely firm that these two people, at the least, do not hate you.  And I can assure you with an even greater certainty that I do not hate you either," he finished gently.

But Harry had already fallen asleep, his face contorted.

Severus sighed again.  His explanation had clearly not had the effect he'd hoped for.

When the boy began to struggle in his sleep, he decided that the potions had to wait.  If he were ever to see the day when he'd succeed in reassuring Harry, he was probably going to have to start with his subconscious.

Seating himself more comfortably on the bed, he pulled the teenager against him and began to stroke his hair to calm him.  After all, that worked well with Shadow.

Dumbledore had been right about his lack of sleep, because the Potions master awakened several hours later without remembering having fallen asleep.

Beside him, something was moving. Harry, obviously, fighting in his dreams.

"No…please…I didn't want that…."

That's for certain, Snape thought.

Severus shook him gently by the shoulder, saying, "Harry, wake up.  Potter. It's a dream."

The boy convulsed brusquely before freezing, his eyes once again unfocused.

He really was going to have to find him a pair of new glasses.

"Potter?  All right?"  No answer.  "Potter?"

"No."

But something in that 'no' made Severus think that it wasn't in answer to his question.

"Harry?" he tried.

"No."

Hmmm.  "Shadow?" murmured the Potions master.

The boy seemed to relax, pushing his forehead against Severus.

Oh, Merlin, Severus thought.  This really wasn't the way he'd planned on approaching things…no, it really wasn't.

Come to think of it, the strangest part of it yet was that the boy hadn't transformed into the cat.

Struck by a premonition, he cast a quick diagnostic charm.  The pale aura surrounding the boy made Severus turn pale as well: the level of Harry's magic had dropped again, leaving him a weak reserve.

He held back a wave of panic; he shouldn't worry Harry, but he had to do something…

"Harry?  Harry, wake up."

The boy groaned and moved slightly.

Effortlessly, Severus lifted him and propped him into a sitting position, his head lolling back an forth.  "I didn't want that.  Sorry," grumbled the teenager.

"You didn't want what, Potter?" Severus asked, at the same time casting a series of spells.

"To kill them. I'm sorry."

"Who, then, this time?" Snape couldn't help but ironically ask.

He regretted his words right away as he saw Harry withdraw into himself.

"Harry…" he sighed.  "You didn't kill anyone.  I don't know what's making you think the contrary, but no one in the vicinity has recently died, and certainly not because of you."

His first spells began to show their effects.  He'd not been mistaken, the boy was continuing to lose his powers, little by little.  He could distinctly make out the halo of light mist leaving his body, a bit at a time, especially more concentrated around the damnable scar which adorned the forehead of the Boy Who Couldn't Manage To Live Or Die.

As for stopping that flow….

"He knows it.  They all know it," Harry burst out abruptly.

Severus frowned. "You'll permit me to be the exception to that rule, Mister Potter.  Enlighten me."

The boy grimaced, but didn't answer.  So much for the academic approach, Severus realized.  "Harry, explain it to me.  Please," he added.  At the point where they now were, politeness was a lesser evil.

"I…my fault.  All dead.  Dumbledore said so.  I saw them," Harry finally said, his voice ragged.

He was once again huddled up, his head between his knees. Neither truly awake, nor truly asleep, Severus realized.

At all cost, he had to find a way to keep Voldemort from continuing to suck out the boy's powers; but in this state, Harry was quite simply an open door….

What could Dumbledore have wanted to say?  Most likely, nothing, but Harry thought otherwise…

"What did Dumbledore say, Harry?" Severus began again patiently, fighting against the urge to just simply use Legilimency on the boy.  In his current state, that probably wouldn't do much good…

"Disappointed.  All dead.  My fault.  Couldn't ask for forgiveness…no."

Shocked, Severus stared at the boy's contorted face.  What the devil was he talking about?  He'd not left Harry since they'd returned, and he was very certain that Dumbledore have never said such a….

Unless…

"Who's dead, Harry?" he asked softly.

"The Weasleys…Ron…Ginny…Hermione…Remus…everyone…."

"And when did Dumbledore tell you this?" Severus insisted, struck by a bad feeling.

"In his office.  With McGonagll.  Furious…he hit me."

And that would explain Harry's reaction to the Headmaster.  Severus was beginning to have a vague idea of what Lucius and Bellatrix could've thought up to torture the boy.

"Harry," Severus started slowly, "do you remember when you found yourself in the Headmaster's office again?"

"Afterward."

"After what, Harry?  After being taken by Lucius Malfoy?"

Harry nodded. 

"No, you must listen to me now; that never happened…Harry, listen to me.  After you left Hogwarts, you were at home first, at Privet Drive, then you came to Snape Manor. Do you remember that?" the professor patiently asked.

Again, a nod of Harry's head was his reply.

"You were at Grimmauld Place as well.  Then at the Ministry.  That's where Lucius kidnapped you."  He paused for a moment so the teenager could digest what he'd just told him.  "After that, you stayed at Malfoy Manor.  Two days. I met up with you again in the cemetery and we were able to escape.  We went back to Hogwarts, to the Headmaster's office."

Under the effect of these images, Harry tensed up all over again.  The office…Dumbledore….

"There were several people in that office, but you were unconscious, Harry.  Professor Dumbledore was there, as well as Madam Pomfrey and myself.  The Headmaster was very worried, we all were.   Poppy took care of you as best she could. I made you drink some potions, and we retired to my rooms in the dungeon.  Harry, at no time did Professor Dumbledore try to injure or accuse you. Minerva McGonagall wasn't there.  That scene you have in your head never happened," he finished.

But for all of that, the boy still hadn't calmed down.  Shielding his face with his hand, he struggled with an invisible enemy, fighting to stay conscious.

"It was true," Harry finally said after a short internal debate.

"No one died," Snape said calmly. "The Weasleys, Miss Granger, Remus Lupin and the other members of the Order are quite well.  You'll see them soon.  The last person around you to die, Harry, was Sirius Black.  Just before summer, at the Ministry.  Long before your kidnapping.  All that was just a macabre act to destabilize you."

The boy moaned softly, but he didn't relax. 

"You could see them soon, I promise you," said the professor.

"You're lying," Harry murmured.

Severus ground his teeth, but he couldn't be cross with him. "No, you can write to them as soon as you'd like, and you'll be seeing them very soon.  The term starts in just a week.  Everything is fine now," he said with all the reassurance he could muster.

"It's over…" Harry said.  "Never again…."

"No," Severus agreed, "no one will hurt you anymore.  You're safe."

"That's false," the boy said hoarsely. "No more magic.  No one.  It's over."

It was one of those rare times in his life when Severus felt helpless.  What was he supposed to do to reassure the boy, who was only half-conscious?  The urgency of the situation pressed him to act quickly, but he didn't want to stress him even more.

"Harry, whatever happens, I can promise to never leave you alone, and to protect you the best that I can.  But now, you have to trust me…listen to me, do you feel up to Occluding?"

The magic was continuing to escape the boy in spurts.  Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it quickly.

But Harry didn’t' seem to be listening to him anymore.  Captive to his nightmare, he shivered and sweated as if he had a fever.

If only he had some Animagus potion in his stocks.  Pomfrey hadn't thought of that.  Leaving the boy alone for a moment, he hurried for an empty cauldron and rapidly prepared the ingredients.  I would take hours for it to be ready, but he couldn't not try.  Quickly checking the other potions in progress, Severus went back to Harry, who seemed to be in a trance.

"Potter."  He took the boy by the shoulders and forced him to face him.  "Keep trying. This isn't the time to give up. You have to close your mind, now!"

At the sound of his voice, Harry opened his eyes and looked at him, confused and frightened.

"That right, look at me.  Don't let him steal your powers.  Focus, push him out!"

Harry seemed to experience a surge of willpower, but he probably didn't have enough energy: his head fell back to his chest and his breathing became raspy again.

Clenching his teeth, Severus took hold of him gently by the chin and forced him to look up. "Open your eyes.  There.  You have to help me, Harry. For now, become Shadow again; I know it's hard, but it's the only solution!"

The boy's eyes widened, a gleam of hope in the depths of them.

"Shadow," Severus repeated, in the voice he reserved for the cat.  "Be Shadow."

The boy stared at him, as if he were desperately looking for something in his face.

"Harry," Severus insisted, "transform now!  Remember, focus on the image that helps you change into the cat.  You do it so well!"

The teenager's hung his head limply into his hands.

"The cat…try, Harry…the armchair, the bowl, the fish, the fire…the towel, remember that day, the shower under the downspout, transform, Shadow, you must!"

But his pleading was in vain, and he knew it. Even if he'd been able, the boy's magical reserves were quite simply insufficient.

Summoning all of his energy, Severus concentrated on erecting the best wards he could around the boy, calling on white magic as much as on black, murmuring incantations learnt years ago.

All in vain.  Neither the potions he forced him to imbibe, nor the spells he wove around the boy, managed to stop the magical flow that continued to escape through his scar.

The boy's color paled at the same time as the magical aura around him.  He was barely struggling now, lost in the feverishness of a troubled sleep, while Severus became more and more agitated over him.

The sun was just about to set when the Animagus potion finally achieved its characteristic violet color.  Wasting not a moment, Severus filled a phial, then sat Harry up in the bed.  Voldemort couldn't access Harry's powers in his cat form; if Severus could keep him that way during the three crucial days, they would've saved….

Tipping the boy's head back, he poured the liquid down his throat, and waited anxiously.  The potion had only taken a few seconds to work the last time, but in his current state, it might take longer….

A minute passed by without any change.  Then another.  Severus felt his grip on the boy's shoulders tighten.

When five minutes had gone by without any transformation, the Potions master knew he'd failed.

It was too late.  The level of the boy's magical reserves were too low for the potions to have an effect.  A few hours earlier, perhaps….

Harry's skin was almost freezing to the touch.  The spurts of magic that Severus had made visible continued to escape, but now they were only the last vestiges of the boy's powers.  Before midnight, there'd be nothing left of them, and he couldn't do anything about it.

The sun set on the Manor, and Sevuers cast a tired glance at the dungeon window where he'd first noticed Shadow.  What he saw there made him freeze, and he couldn't help but stay close to Harry, in a vain attempt to protect him.

Outside, above the Manor, the Death Eater Mark glowed in the sky, brighter than ever.

He knew.  He was there, outside, as close as the wards allowed him…

One look at Harry was enough to calm Severus. Eyes wide open, the boy was staring at the same place in the sky, glassy-eyed.

He knew as well. Along with his strength, his magic was leaving him, and with them, probably, the last of his hope.  Severus didn't recall having seen such resignation in anyone's eyes before, and certainly not in a child of sixteen.

With a sigh, he went to sit on the bed, beside the boy. "I am sorry," he murmured for the second time since they'd returned.  "There's nothing I can do. He won't be able to enter here, but I can't stop him from taking your powers.  I've tried everything," he apologized.

Harry didn't look away from the window, but he moved slightly toward the professor, as if seeking comfort from him, without completely daring to.

Powerless, Severus did the only thing left for him to do.  Without looking away from the Dark Mark either, he wrapped the teenager in his arms, giving the only protection he could offer him.

Harry allowed him to do it, perhaps too weak to protest, Severus thought.

"I'm truly sorry," Severus murmured, stroking the boy's hair. "I didn't think we'd come to this point so quickly. He can't come close to the Manor, but that won't keep him from stealing your powers.  Whatever happens…I won't leave you.  With or without powers, we'll find a way, and it's not important.  That really isn't important, all right?"

A faint moan answered him, as the boy's head rolled against his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, so as to not see anything more.

"It's not important, child.  You don't need magic to be who you are.  You're going to get well.  Everything will be fine," Severus heard himself say, and part of him wondered how he was able to find the strength to speak such insipid words, and even more, to think them.

But he was tired.  Much too tired and drained.  The teenager he held against him like a little child, even more so than Severus was.

He was right.  All of this wasn't important. 

Laying a hand on the boy's forehead, he pressed him a bit more tightly against himself.  If the boy had to touch the depths of despair, he wouldn't be alone.

Harry trembled slightly, but he didn't push him away.  His eyelids firmly shut, he clung to his professor's robes with all his might.

In turn, Severus looked away from the Mark glowing in the sky, to the teenager.

Then he began to sing, soft and low, stopping to repeat phrases he wanted the boy to understand.  He wouldn't abandon him. He'd always be Harry Potter, even without magic, and no one would think less of him.  He'd always have a place at Hogwarts, and at the Manor, for as long as he liked.  No one had died, no one was cross with him. They'd find a way to work everything out.

And in the end, everything would be fine.

He didn't know if the boy would end up believing him, or if he could even hear him, but his own words served to calm him at least.

Because finally, he'd been persuaded to believe them.

Harry must've ended up falling asleep, because the hand firmly holding on to his robes had relaxed, and the boy's face appeared almost restful now.

Something had changed….

Severus felt his heart speed up.  He slightly spread his fingers, still pressed against the boy's forehead, taking care not to wake him.

It was indeed that.  The flow of magic had stopped…but even more surprising, he could see that a reserve of the boy's magical energy remained, very weak, of course, but still present.  The halo was almost imperceptible, but it was there…

And Harry seemed to have also regained his color.

Severus moved slightly to better see the boy, who opened his exhausted eyes.  "Shhh, Everything's fine," Severus said without removing his hand from Harry's forehead.

"It's nighttime…." the boy said softly.

"Yes, the sun won't be up for several hours."

"No, it will never come up again.  No more light," Harry said, laying his head down on the professor's chest again.

Sevuers held back a sigh. He'd already thought of that himself.  But not anymore.

For the first time in a long while, he had a real reason to fight.

Even if he had to go look for the bloody sun in China, it would come up.  Since Harry needed it to….

Desperate situations truly did call for desperate measures, he thought decidedly.  Things would probably seem different by the light of day...when it returned.

Whatever had happened, Harry was sleeping now, and the slight mist that embodied his powers was floating around his fingers, near the boy's scar.

It was no longer escaping, and it even seemed now that it was attaching itself to Harry's skin, as if to flow back in.

Perhaps all had not been in been in vain in the end.

After all, the best potions were never the simplest to prepare.

When the sun finally came up, Severus was still humming the same refrain.  Fearful of breaking the fragile balance that'd allowed Harry to conserve his magic, he'd not budged the entire night.

He didn't know if the boy'd finally fallen asleep; he hadn't moved, and his breathing had become regular, but his body still seemed rather tense.

Through the window, Severus watched the sky as it slowly changed color.

They'd made it through the night.  His spell, still active, showed him that Harry hadn't lost anymore of his magic.  His reserves were low, but not exhausted.

It was time to make him drink some potions.  Severus gently extricated himself, laying the boy on the bed.  He saw his eyelids flutter, but he didn't make a move to sit up.

Stretching, Severus was thoughtful as he took a few steps in the laboratory.  What had actually happened last night?  He didn't believe for an instant that Voldemort had stopped draining Harry's powers.  Something had stopped him, most likely Harry himself, but how?

A remnant of magical mist still flitted around his scar, hesitant.  Taking the necessary potions from Poppy's stores, he returned to the boy.

"Harry…wake up."

The teenager carefully moved one limb after the other.  Lifting his head, he stopped for a moment to stare at the professor.

Severus wordlessly handed him a potion, but Harry didn't make a move to take it.  Sighing, Severus took a chair and moved to sit beside the bed. "Harry, do you know where you are?" he asked.

His answer was a shrug of the shoulders.

"You're at Snape Manor.  Do you remember?"

He thought the boy wasn't going to answer, but he was finally rewarded by a slow nod.

"I'm Professor Snape," he added. "I've no intention of harming you in any way. Take these potions, they'll help you to feel better."

Again, he had to wait a long moment before Harry responded.  Finally, he lifted his hand to take the potion that the professor held out, and swallowed it in a gulp, without making a face.  Severus nodded approvingly, then held out the rest, which he drank without protest.

"That's perfect.  The sun's just come up; do you want to go out and walk a bit in the park?" he suggested.

At these words, Harry startled and shrunk back in the bed.  "No.  No light."

"Do you have a headache?" Severus asked with a frown.

The teenager's mouth twisted, but he didn't answer.

Still, it was progress, of a sort, thought the Potions master.

"Harry, I'm aware you must be suffering, and I'm going to brew some potions as quickly as possible.  But before that, I need to understand.  Last night, the Dark Lord tried to steal your powers, and he came very close to succeeding.  Something finally prevented him, and I'd like to know if it's you, Harry?"

"Yes.  No.  A bit."

"How?"

The boy finally decided to meet his professor's eyes.  What Severus saw there make him shudder; in place of that empty and confused look he'd had since his kidnapping, his eyes now brimmed with a mixture of heightened emotions that seemed to well up from his very soul: anxiety, fear, uncertainty, and something that resembled hope, a mute entreaty…

"You," came the answer at last.

"Me?" Seveus replied, disconcerted. He'd been persuaded there'd been nothing he could do to counter Voldemort's attack.

Harry nodded.

Still watching the boy, Severus sat back in his chair.  He needed to think for a moment.  What had he done, exactly? Potions?  No…  He'd been content to hold Harry in his arms.  A totally unproductive and foolishly sentimental gesture, but he'd not found anything better to do at the time.

"Harry, explain, please," he said gently.

The boy hesitated for a moment, then moved closer to Severus.  With a slightly trembling hand, he took the professor's and placed it against his forehead.  More than ever, his eyes looked like Shadow's, Severus noted, filled with fear and doubt.  If the boy would've had enough magic, then without a doubt, he'd have a cat in front of him just then…

Could Harry be right?  Had this simple contact been enough to repel Voldemort's attack?

No, Harry couldn't transform into a cat…but an instant later, Severus almost had the impression that Shadow had taken the upper hand in spite of him.  Shaking all over, the boy slowly stretched out to prop his head on Severus' knees, his eyes fixed on the window.

More touched than he'd like to admit, the Potions master automatically began to stroke the boy's hair.

"All right, Harry. It's fine.  You're safe now. I wouldn't leave you," he tried to reassure him. Then, his voice hoarser, he said, "I regret I wasn't able to intervene any sooner at Malfoy Manor…the situation was extremely delicate. I had to wait until the last moment, I didn't have any way to keep Lucius and Bellatix from doing…what they did.  Can you talk about it, Harry?"

No answer, but he felt the boy tense.

He continued to massage the back of the boy's neck and his shoulders for a moment, letting him relax, bit by bit.  He hadn't liked to have to ask him so soon, but he couldn't permit himself to wait.  Voldemort was outside, and Harry had to get himself togehter as quickly as possible.

"When Lucius Malfoy kidnapped you at the Ministry, where did he take you, Harry?" he asked as calmly and as neutrally as he could.

As if resigned, the boy sighed. "Malfoy Manor."

Severus communicated his approval with a slight pressure to the back of his neck. "What happened then?"

"Voldemort. You were there," the boy pointed out.

"Yes, I was there," Severus replied softly. "And after that, Harry?"

"You made him leave.  You left, too."  There was a trace of reproach in the teenager's voice.

"That's correct.  You stayed with Lucius and Bellatrix."

"And Nott."

"And Nott," Severus agreed.

"They put me in solitary. In the dungeon.  The walls came together to…just enough.  He talked to me, you know. Voldemort. In my head.  At the Ministry," the boy let out.

"Yes, I know," Severus sighed. "That was especially my fault…I'm sincerely sorry, Mister Potter.  My strategy turned out to be perfectly deplorable, an error that I should've definitely not made," he admitted hoarsely.

He felt the boy's shoulders tense again, but not in the same manner.  It wasn't apprehension this time, but anticipation. Harry knew Severus had something important to say….

"That little act, even here before you left for the Ministry, was only to force you to keep your distance from me.  To not consider me as someone worthy of your trust.  The situation that had evolved here….had unfortunately directly affected the link between you and the Dark Lord."  He shook his head. No, this wasn't the right way to go about this….

"Harry, Voldemort sensed that you'd been lowering your mental defenses since your arrival here at the Manor.  That you felt safe.  In opening yourself to me, you also allowed Voldemort access to your mind.  Knowing that, I wanted at all cost to put an end to it, in a brutal fashion, so as to immediately and definitively sever that connection.  It turned out that my decision was totally erroneous, and the consequences disastrous."

At these words, Harry turned around, his head still propped on his professor's knees, to look at him directly, the question burning in his eyes.

Riveted to the boy's face, stopping short of Legilimency, Severus tried to put all the sincerity he could into the words he spoke.  "I didn't believe a word of what I said that morning in the dungeon."

Harry closed his eyes, and Severus could see his face relax for the first time since he'd arrived.  For a moment, there was only the sound of the fire in the fireplace, and a strange sensation of calm, as his hand stroked the tousled hair.

Then the boy moved slightly to bury the top of his face in his professor's robes, and finally, he began to speak.  "I thought I'd never come back," he said, his voice hoarse and tired.  "When I heard you tell the Headmaster that it'd all been a mistake, that you didn't want to see me anymore, I don't why that was so hard. I thought you didn't hate me as much, because of Shadow.  I felt safe here.  I should've known what would happen.  But I didn't want to believe it, until you refused to go with me."

"Voldemort had already been summoning me for hours, Harry," Severus said gently, "and I couldn't go with you, for fear of making you even more vulnerable."

"But it was just the opposite!" the boy protested.

"I know that now.  My lack of judgment is unforgivable."

He felt Harry relax again, a hand clutched in a fold of his robes.  "It doesn't matter.   At the Ministry, I felt this sensation, not really a voice, but more like someone was taking control of my brain, telling me that if I opened the door, everything would be fine, I could go home.  But it was Malfoy, behind it.  Lucius Malfoy."

Severus continued to thread his fingers through his hair, not making a sound.  Better to let him talk….

"And then Voldemort, at the Manor.  And you.  When the two of you left, they put me in that dungeon with the walls that…that…with the walls that shrank."

Severus stiffened. He knew that room, Lucius' pride and joy, a perverse invention that seemed to be the heart of the old dwelling.  A veritable chamber of nightmares….

"When you told Voldemort to be wary of me, I didn't know anymore what I was supposed to believe.  What you were trying to do. But it didn't make much sense to think you were protecting him, so I preferred to believe that it was to protect me."

"Obviously, stupid child," Severus murmured. "I wanted to buy some time. I was hoping the Order could pick up your trail, or that I'd have a chance to act before Voldemort did."

Harry nodded.  "That's what I thought afterwards. I think. At the time, it wasn't easy, especially when they started with the Cruciatus and all the other stuff."

He stopped for a moment to think back on it again. Yes, all the other stuff.  "Malfoy was there, and Bellatrix and Nott. I didn't recognize him right away.  They made up some games…  They seemed to enjoy themselves," he said bitterly.  "They never stopped.  They took turns, always coming up with new ideas, and Bellatrix laughed the entire time.  And then, in the end, they decided it was enough.  That they could start."

He swallowed hard, and realized after a moment that he couldn't find the words anymore.  He tried to focus on the fingers lightly massaging the back of his neck, relaxing his muscles.

"Harry?" asked the voice above him.  It was comforting, finally.  It was there.  Just there.

And the knot in his throat dissolved.  "I thought about escaping, you know.  But I knew I daren't think of you, in case Malfoy or Voldemort would've sensed it."

Severus wasn't certain that he fully understood the implications of what Harry'd just said.  He was tempted to push the subject a bit further…but it was better not to interrupt him.

"After that, I'm not very sure," the boy said at last with a sigh.

"After what, Harry?" asked the professor.

"Bellatrix…they decided that I was ready to 'start'.  Start.  Like they could still start whatever it was right then.   Yeah, rather, finish it."

It was the first time since his return that Severus sensed anger in the boy.  In a way, he was relieved by it; he still had enough rage to fight for himself.  As with his magic, it would just take time for his strength to build itself up again.

"And then they made me drink one of your potions."

Severus drew in a sharp breath. Oh…oh…one of his potions in the hands of Bellatrix and Lucius?  Now he could truly expect the worst.

"After that, I don't know anymore," Harry said. "I seemed to see things…but that doesn't make any sense."

"For example?" asked the Potions master.

"I think at one point my parents came back to help me, except they didn't do that…and then I got away, or someone saved me, but it wasn't really possible, since it was you who…  And Uncle Vernon…  I don't know anymore if that was before or after…it doesn't make any sense."

"Perhaps it does.  Do you recall the effects of that potion you drank?"

"In the Mafoy's dungeon?  No.  Everything was confusing, but at the same time, it wasn't.  I don’t know anymore.  Am I really here?" he asked abruptly.

"I can verify that you are most certainly at Snape Manor, Mister Potter," Severus replied with a hint of irony.

"It's the only place that seems real," Harry murmured. "Even when I dream, it seems real."

"And that's not the case with Hogwarts?" Severus ventured.

It took a moment for the reply to come, as if Harry were studying the question.  "No," he said at last, his voice suddenly tired. "Not Hogwarts anymore."

"What happened with Professor Dumbledore, Harry?"

"I want to sleep now." There was something desperate in his tone, a hand still clutching the fabric of Severus' robe, as if to tether Harry to the reality of the place.

"I'm going to give you a potion.  But I'd like you to answer me first; it's important, Harry.  What's the problem with the Headmaster?"

"Please, don't send me back there, all right? Not now.  Please," murmured the boy plaintively.

Perhaps he was asking for too much.  Harry had already given so much…but Severus felt frustrated, seeming so close to the crux of the matter.

What was the potion that Malfoy had made him ingest?  What could they've done to provoke such a reaction in the teenager?

It wouldn't do to force things. He would find a way.

"You're not going anywhere, Harry.  I won't send you back.  You'll stay her for as long as you like.  Drink this, and rest, I'll stay here."

Harry drank the potion gratefully, and his hand soon let loose its grasp on the professor's robes. An instant later, he was sleeping soundly.

Severus laid him gently on the bed, and thoughtfully headed for the fireplace.

Should he risk contacting Dumbledore?  The Dark Mark above the Manor was a sign that Voldemort knew of their hideout. On the other hand, this could be a Death Eater bluff.  Whichever it was, the risk was too great; if someone from the Ministry was watching the Headmaster's office at the moment he tried to contact him, which was surely the case, they'd be in serious danger.

No, he had to wait, and hope that Harry's situation wouldn't worsen again.

In one way or another, he suspected that only the boy knew the answers that would allow him to progress.

Talking a jar of salve from Pomfrey's stocks, he returned to Harry.  He used a spell to make sure that he wouldn't awaken, and began to heal the cuts that covered his body.  Again.

With a quick flick of his wand, Severus made the pyjama tops disappear and couldn't hold back a groan: yes, this was definitely beginning to become a habit:  How many times was he going to have to heal these wounds?  Because these were the same ones, it would seem.  These characteristic long red any marks that covered his torso were similar to those that his uncle had inflicted on him, only not as deep, and more numerous.

Frowning, Severus tapped the jar.  It wasn't Malfoy's custom to use such Muggle methods, unworthy of a wizard, and even more of a Death Eater.  What had he been hoping to accomplish, torturing him in this way?

Perhaps he'd just put his finger on something.  The potion, the room under Lucius' control, Harry's confusion about the events, his reaction to Dumbledore.   They'd tried to mentally break him, utilizing his fears. To make him bend, and bring down the potential barriers, and to impact his mind.

Seeing how disoriented Harry seemed, they'd succeeded, in a way. And his expression in the cemetery, that'd been more than despair; it'd been the total absence of hope and light.  The perfect work of a Dementor.

But Harry hadn't given up.  He was certain of it.  He just hadn't got over it.

It remained to discover what he could do to set the boy to rights once more.

Shaking his head, disillusioned, Severus began to cover the lacerations with salve again.  Vernon's work, in some form or another.  A version of Vernon even worse yet than the original, and probably wearing Malfoy's tight-lipped little smile, that amused sadistic gleam he always had, deep in his eyes, during raids against Muggles.

Dumbledore had also been implicated, as well as James and Lily, if one were to believe the fragments of Harry's memory.

The perfect torture, all in all. Severus himself would've never believed it a few weeks earlier, but nothing could affect the boy more than the people who, in one way or another, represented his family.

Without taking into account the Weasleys, whom Harry believed to be dead now...  Brilliant.  Truly brilliant.

And now? he wondered as he covered the last wounds with salve. 

Voldemort was probably there, just outside. He certainly wasn't going to let Harry escape when he was so close to attaining his goal.  The fact that he'd been able to steal his powers, only to have the door slammed in his face at the last minute, and because of a former Death Eater….

The Dark Lord had probably never been so determined to get what he wanted.

Of course, he knew about the Manor. He'd even been there in person, the day when Severus had moved into the newly constructed building.   Nothing as grandiose as Malfoy Manor; he hadn't needed it.  In truth, he didn't use it, save for the dungeons.  That was the only part of the Manor that he liked, the only part in which he didn't feel bothered or ill at ease.

In fact, he'd never liked this place and all it stood for….

He liked the park, the stretches of garden and forest that surrounded the dwelling, and could return to his dungeon without feeling that familiar knot in his stomach that never failed to materialize when he walked though the great door.

When he was tired enough, he could even go up to his bedchamber, through the laboratory exit, and forget where he really was.

The furniture and paintings had remained unchanged since the day he'd first arrived.  Nothing had changed, really, before Harry came.

Even so, he couldn't put the boy in a room prepared by a Death Eater, could he?

Just the idea of Harry in this manor…he seemed to be so at home here, though, running about the rooms with an ease that Severus had never felt in this place…

But Harry also preferred the dungeon.  He was truly a good cat…and a good boy!

Not making a sound, Severus climbed the steps and opened the door to the park. The entire property was warded, of course, but he still didn't want to risk going beyond the boundaries of the garden.

As he expected, the air was cool for the season, and the still thick fog prevented him from seeing more than ten meters in front of him.  Suddenly, the Mark on his arm began to burn intensely, with an unparalleled fury.

A powerful, deafening roar vibrated in the fog, seeming to fill the air around him; Severus looked up into the sky, his hand clenched on his forearm.

Magnified like the continuous rumbling sound, two red eyes cut through the mist, intently scrutinizing the Manor that they couldn't see.

No, Snape repeated to himself, he couldn't see a thing, it was impossible.  But he knew!

Pain radiated from the burn on his arm, pulsing angrily.  Was it fury that was increasing the Dark Lord's powers ten-fold, or was it the powers he'd stolen from Harry?

Harry!  He shouldn't be left alone down there. Turning on heel, Severus quickly went back down the stairs.

The boy was sleeping, still under the effects of the potion.  But he was struggling in his sleep, kicking under the covers, his face protected by an arm. Without hesitation, Severus rejoined the teenager on the bed and held him in a firm embrace. Unacceptable for his wounds to reopen now.

"Harry.  Be still.  You've nothing to fear here, he can't get in."

But good god, if the boy's scar hurt him as much as his Mark did…  The spell he'd cast to visualize Harry's magic was still in place, and he could see the slight but blue mist that still hovered at the boy's forehead suddenly move away, as if pulled by another force.

Clenching his teeth, he pressed Harry against himself, holding him with one arm while he rested the other on his forehead, in a gesture that was beginning to become familiar.  Childish, perhaps, as he wasn't going to hold his magic back with his fingers, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

"Harry, take control again, wake up, Shadow, try!  You've done it before!"

The boy had twisted in a spasm when Severus had wrapped him in his arms, but at the sound of his voice, he'd instantly stopped struggling and now pushed with all his weight against the Potions master's hand, as he groaned in his sleep.

So much for resting; best that he be awake for the moment, Severus decided.

"Accio potions bag!

Rummaging quickly in Pomfrey's bag, he pulled out a green bottle that he forced between the teenager's clenched jaws.

He felt Harry shudder, then rapidly regain consciousness.

"Ow!"

"Harry? You have pain?"

"I, yes, my scar, he's trying to get back into my head, I don't know…."

"He's trying to take your powers again. You must stop him, like you did the last time."

"Don't let go of me, please!" the boy pleaded through his teeth.

"Not a chance," Severus promised. "Focus!"

For a moment, it seemed that the world around them ceased to exist, except for the little bit of blue-tinged mist stretched out endlessly before them, caught between two forces.

Then noticeably, almost hesitantly, it began to turn around, moving back toward Harry with unbearable slowness.

Relieved, Severus briefly squeezed the boy's arm with his free hand to encourage him. "Those are your powers, Harry.  They want to come back to you.  Stay well-focused, don't let him have the upper hand!"

He could see drops of sweat forming on the boy's temples, evidence of his effort to fight Voldemort.

Letting go of the covers he clenched in his fists, Harry's hands moved to grab the arm that steadied him, as if holding onto a life preserver.

Severus couldn't help but startle when the boy's fingers clenched his forearm, digging into the burning Mark through his sleeve.

Harry didn't miss his reaction; even with all his attention focused on the powers trying to escape him, he couldn't fail to notice this reflex that was so common to his professor.

The hand on his forehead moved slightly, as if to try and lessen the pain in his scar, and Harry understood.

Mentally reinforcing his defenses, Harry looked away from the scrap of magic still suspended in the air, and with a rapid gesture, bared the professor's forearm.

Severus saw it coming too late.  Moving quickly, he tried to pull his arm away, but Harry gripped him with a strength he didn't know he had; one look at his Mark gave him his explanation.

The Potions master always despised the blackened appearance of the scar on his arm, since the very first day.  It had probably been the first outward symbol of what he'd wished for and achieved, and in the end, absolutely not wanted.  The horror of mutilation in all its splendor, the branding to mark a slave, absolutely nothing glorious or wonderful in all of that.

But what they were seeing now evoked a response far beyond the disgust and revulsion that the Mark normally inspired.

Instead of being uniformly black, the scar was almost bright red at the edges, which had become swollen and ill-defined.  The Mark was spreading, devouring the flesh around it, eating away at it like an acid.

And the slight but undeniable odor it gave off, that of burning skin, left no further doubt.

Very well, thought Severus, a painkilling potion would perhaps be welcome, after all.

But before he could rummage in the bag in search of the precious phial, Harry turned brusquely back to him, his green eyes glittering with a new light.

"He's attacking you," he stated.

"Yes, it would seem so," the professor calmly replied. "That was foreseeable. Nothing very serious, in any case.  Stay focused, this isn't the time to let him get the upper hand.  It's a tactic designed to distract me, don't lose your concentration."

"But your arm…" murmured Harry.  "I didn't know he could…not to that extent…"

"Me neither," Severus answered ironically. "Now, work on closing your mind, and hold on to all of your strength and your power."

"He's doing it because you betrayed him, isn't he?" Harry asked.

"That much is obvious, yes," Severus said, annoyed. "And if you intend to indulge yourself, now, in your little predilection for self-guilt, I warn you straight off that I'll be forced to set your priorities right with more than a few kicks to your behind; have I made myself understood?"

For a moment, Harry was speechless; how could Snape speak so lightly about what was happening to him, and threaten him with what?  Kicks to his behind?  It was positively not Snape-ish of him!

"Harry," Severus finally said, more gently. "Your scar and my Mark are the only ways he has of getting to us.  I'll take care of my Mark, and you, keep him out of your head."

With an agile movement, he took a potion from the bag at the foot of the bed, and downed it in a single gulp.  Without looking away from Harry, he addressed him with a small nod. 

No, it wasn't understood.  Snape was in the process of burning, for Merlin's sake!  How could he sit there and tell him to concentrate, and use his arm as if it were nothing?

The potion didn’t' seem to have much effect on the burn itself anyway; he could still smell the horrible odor of burning meat, and the hand holding the potion was shaking slightly as the professor drank it.

"It's because he has my powers", he suddenly realized aloud.  "Isn't it?  He's stronger with my magic, and that's the reason he can do that to you!"

The professor pursed his lips. "Most likely, indeed. And the only thing you can do is to stop him from having access to even more power," Snape replied.

Harry nodded thoughtfully.  His own magic, used against Snape.  His own powers used against the man, against the professor who'd risked his life for him.  After all the misfortune for which he'd already been the cause….it was out of the question!  They wouldn't have Snape too, not if he could help it!

Resting back against his professor, Harry tried again to concentrate.  He felt so weak, so weak.  It wasn't just his powers that were lacking, but also his strength that the Death Eaters, one by one, had stolen from him.

Sighing, he looked for something to hold onto.  Not Snape's arm, no, nothing that would hurt him any further.   Merlin, he should've cried out when Harry'd gripped his arm, precisely on the spot where the Mark was eating away his flesh!

But what he really needed was something else altogether….

His hand hesitant, he took hold of Snape's right wrist, which didn't try to pull away.  Then he placed the man's palm on his forehead, above his own scar.  It hurt him, yes, but strangely less when Snape had his hand on it.  He'd always hated for anyone to try and touch his forehead, even to look at it.

But Snape…it wasn't out of morbid curiosity, or that sort of fascination that people had when they learnt he was Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Snape himself couldn't care less.  He was just trying to protect him.  Him, not a prophecy.  Harry was sure of it.  After all, he'd tried to disagree with Dumbledore, that Harry shouldn't go to the Ministry.

Things were different now. It was his turn to help Snape, and he could do it.  If Snape stayed at his side, he could manage it.  He needed his strength….

Refusing Voldemort access to the least of his thoughts, Harry began to close the doors to his mind.

Then those of his magic.

It was strange how easy it was to visualize all those tiny doors closing and locking, with a muffled sound that inevitably reminded him of the locks on his door at Privet Drive.

Closed, sealed against all intrusion, with Harry on the inside.

When he'd finished, it seemed that the slight aura surrounding him started to shine more intensely, much stronger.

Finally focusing on the ribbons of power that remained hanging in the dungeon, he tried to draw them to himself. This time with determination.  Once again, he leant heavily against the hand pressing against his forehead, and gathered all his willpower.

He needed his powers; Snape needed them.  If he managed it, he could stay here in the dungeon with the Man in Black.

He felt the ex-Death Eater's arms encircle his chest again, leaving his own arms free this time.  It was good that way, as he no longer needed the strength to sit upright, and he could stretch out his hands toward the scraps of magic.

Even more noticeably than before, the thread headed nonchalantly toward Harry, finally coming to rest against the forehead it'd left a while ago.  It pirouetted for an instant near his scar, then seemed to hesitate, before dissolving against his forehead.

More, he had to have more….

Something seemed to glimmer for an instant in front of the window, before entering the laboratory.  A thin, loose wisp that seemed made of mist-like matter stretched slowly toward him, fluttering lazily.

His powers, he could sense them, his powers were coming back to him because he was calling them, because he needed them.

The opaque thread slowly came closer, ignoring his outstretched hands, and traveled to alight on his forehead, through the Potions master's hand.

Harry felt drained by the effort the task demanded of him, but excitement carried him onward.  His powers were returning to him in the same way they'd left him, and he felt more whole, second by second.

Behind him, he could sense the regular movement of Snape's chest rising with each breath.  The fingers on his forehead moved slightly, like a caress, and Harry knew the professor was encouraging him.  That he was happy that Harry was doing what had to be done.

Harry could feel the heat his Mark was giving off against his chest, despite the thickness of the cloth that separated them.

Redoubling his effort, Harry tried to focus solely on the long blue-tinted thread crossing the laboratory.  He had to think of nothing other than utilizing all his resources.

In the silence of the dungeon, time seemed to have stopped.  Not a sound troubled the slow magical ballet, rocked only by the crackling fire and the two of them breathing.

Severus was amazed by the boy's willpower.  Even half-broken by fatigue and the nightmares he'd had to endure, he was still finding the courage within himself to struggle…and he was doing it for him, of all people, the professor who'd made his life at Hogwarts uncomfortable by any means at his disposal.  Who'd constantly insulted him, belittled him, and tormented him in the name of an old grudge of which Harry'd not even been aware.

And now the boy was holding onto him as if his very life depended upon it, looking for him to save him.

Was he so desperate?  What could it be in him that pushed him to all of a sudden attach himself to an ex-Death Eater, to the professor he hated most of all?

But for the moment, Severus couldn't ask the boy to be rational.  He was there, struggling with all of his strength…and with Severus' as well.

Magic and strength, the two things that Voldemort had stolen from him, and that he now was attempting to take back.  Magic was not bounded by distance, of course, but energy, on the other hand, was constrained by proximity.  Harry was taking what he could, without distinguishing the source, and it was fine that way.

He only hoped that his own strength would be enough to nourish the boy until the end.

For that, he obviously had potions.  He just hoped that Poppy's stocks would be enough to last.

He was truly proud of Harry, yes, proud to see him fight this way, so soon after his kidnapping, to see him apply all his willpower to the only objective that mattered.

The boy was truly a hero after all.  But those imbeciles at the Ministry and the Prophet didn't really know why.

After what seemed to him like hours, Harry felt the hands that'd held him since the beginning move to rest on his shoulders, to force him to turn around.

His questioning eyes met those of the Potions professor.  He seemed much more exhausted than when he'd taken that potion earlier.

"Take a break, Harry. You're doing very well; a few potions will help you not to fall asleep."

Harry took the phials that Snape held out to him, and downed them without a word.  The times when he'd suspected the professor of wanting to poison him seemed afar off.

Severus dosed himself with potions as well, his movements stiffer and wearier now.  He turned to Harry again.  "Do you think you can maintain a status quo for a few minutes, while I check on the potions brewing?" he asked.

His voice was slow and tired, Harry noted as he nodded.  "I feel better, Professor.  I think recovering my powers has the same effect as a potion.  I feel…fuller."

Severus nodded. "The level of your magic has risen considerably.  You can see by the color of the magic reentering your body; it's green now, almost yellow."

Harry looked toward the current of magical mist hanging in the air. "I didn't realize that," he murmured.

"The change occurred almost imperceptibly," Severus explained. "When it's orange, you'll have recovered all your powers.  You're doing very good work," he finished, watching the boy.

There was something so lighthearted and childish in the smile he received in reply, that he felt his lips curl slightly with the hint of a smile.  Sixteen years old or not, the boy needed to hear, more than ever, that he'd done well.

Severus quickly made a round of the cauldrons, adding several ingredients, lowering the flame under certain ones, then turned to Harry again.  "Do you think you could eat something?"

A grimace answered him. "Thanks, but I think I'd prefer to stick to potions for now.  The idea of eating is a bit…no, thanks."

Severus nodded as he handed him another potion, which he swallowed greedily.

Harry was feeling his strength return to him at the same time as his powers, but his body was calling for something more substantial to cope with this sudden influx.

He watched Snape for a moment, busy with his cauldrons.  With precision, like always, but also with a sort of weariness that wasn't usual for him.  "Professor, your arm?" Harry suddenly asked.

Severus automatically brought a hand up to his forearm.  "The pain is less.  He must not be using as much power as before," he replied casually.

Harry nodded. There was something in the professor's eyes to which he wasn't accustomed.  A sort of respect, with something that seemed like affection, perhaps.

He was all of a sudden struck by a familiar sensation, as the room abruptly changed shape, his eyesight sharpened, but something wasn't right, though; he felt pulled every which way, stuck between two worlds.

"Harry!" The anguish in the professor's shout only added to his confusion.

Something was really wrong, and he hurt everywhere, as if skin no longer fit his body…

"Shadow, stupid cat, now's not the time!"

Shadow.  Oh, Merlin!  He'd transformed!  Or rather…  Really?"

He lifted a hand up in front of his eyes, fearing what he'd see.  It was indeed an arm he saw, a human one, for the most part.  The upper half was covered in black fur that he knew very well, having tried to clean it several times with his tongue.  As for the hand, it'd now been replaced by a large paw with elongated fingers, from which extended a set of dreadful claws.

Harry jumped backward, and the cry that came from his throat was a perfect mixture of a meow and a shout of horror.

He turned to Snape with a panicked look, just in time to see him raise his wand.

"Animagus revelio!"

There was a 'pop', and Harry felt his entire body stretch, trying to obey the spell, but in vain.  Rubbing his face against his shoulder to get rid of the horrible itching sensation, he was horrified to feel cat whiskers tickling his skin.

Merlin, if Hermione could see this, she could definitely forget her humiliating experience with Polyjuice; he had to be so much worse off right now.

He heard Snape swear, and an instant afterward, a hand forced open his jaw to pour down the contents of a bottle.

Finally, his body decided to choose: a moment later, he was on all fours on the bed, shooting Snape an imploring look.

For a split second, he thought the man was going to give him one of those scathing tirades that'd earned him his reputation; his mouth opened, then closed abruptly, once, twice…

"Very well, Mr. Potter.  So, we can conclude from this that your powers are partially restored.  Partially.  Take note of this detail for the next time."

The cat meowed weakly, uncertain of what it was supposed to think.  That was it?  No reproaches or sniggering?

But Snape continued to observe him thoughtfully.  "Perhaps it'd be best for you to regain your strength under this form, now that you're there.  Take your time.  When you feel ready to begin again, let me know."

With these words, the Potions master turned back to his work.

But this wouldn't do, Harry thought. He didn't have the right to let the professor suffer when he could do something about it.

Slipping to the bottom of the bed, he approached the professor bending over a cauldron, and delicately stretched out a paw towards his leg.

Snape turned around, and Harry was almost certain that he saw a glimmer of affection pass through the eyes that met his green ones.

"Not now, Harry.  You have to recover your strength. In this form, he can't reach you."

But he can reach you¸ the cat thought.

His thoughts were probably clearly readable on his cat face, because Snape then bared his forearm.

"It's not any worse.  The burning has lessened considerably," he said.

But it's still painful, Harry understood, thinking of his own scar.  The potions had never done much to help it, and probably it was the same for Snape.

He hadn't stopped looking at the professor, who sighed.  "It's a small price to pay, Harry, really.  The choices we make always have consequences; this is one of them, and I've no right to complain.  Things could be much worse, and you did excellent work today.  In truth, I hadn't hoped for so much, far from it.  I'm very impressed," he finished with an appreciative nod.

Shadow stayed still for a moment, flabbergasted and disconcerted.

Was there still a chance that all wasn't lost?

Was there a small, a very small chance that he could still live in the light somewhere?'

That he, Harry, could truly do something that didn't end in total disaster?

 In any case, Snape had been right about one thing: he felt exhausted now.  A bit of sleep could only do him good, if he wanted to make it to the end without losing the hold he had on his powers.

He was getting ready to jump to the bed again when two hands grabbed him and placed him carefully on the covers.

"No need to put a strain on your joints while they're not correctly healed," Snape said.

Yes, Snape.  Always Snape, wasn't it?  Who else?

Not Dumbledore who'd struck him, nor McGonagall who'd cast a Cruciatus at him.  Not his friends who were dead, either, and even less likely, the Dursleys…

In a way, it was hard to believe he was no longer in the cupboard.  It was down there that he lived, not here, in Snape's peaceful dungeon.

He really didn't have a right to this comfort, and the professor's attention; it wasn't logical, not right…

But for the moment, he was Shadow.  He didn't need to think of anything else, just of sleeping, eating, and watching the Man in Black.  It was all that he asked.

Curling up in the covers, he fell instantly to sleep, and dreamed only of the dungeon.

When he awoke, he'd not the slightest idea of how he could've ended up on Snape's knees, who was also sleeping in his armchair.  He didn't remember having woken up, but even more, having been moved in his sleep.

But he felt rested, and if he'd not had the subdued pain that began again when he moved a paw, he would've felt rather good.  His bones seemed to creak like an old door, and his muscles felt as if they'd been put through a grinder…not to mention that burning sensation.  Oh, all right, he hurt everywhere.

He slipped softly to the floor so as to not awaken the Potions master, and set off in search of a bowl.  That always seemed to make the pain go away, he'd noticed.

Nothing was on the floor where the Man in Black usually left it, though, but he heard Snape awaken and stretch out slowly behind him.

He didn't look good, Shadow noticed.  He features were drawn with fatigue, and the circles under his eyes had never been so pronounced.  Was it his fault?  No, he remembered, he'd done all he could to help him; Snape had been happy with him.

He had to do better today.

The Man in Black had already got up and was coming toward him. "How do you feel?"

The cat blinked its eyes in reply.

"Hmmm, I suppose that can be arranged.  However, I fear that potions would be more effective in you human form.  Do you want to eat beforehand?  It seems that cats always have more of an appetite than what's reasonably possible."

An enthusiastic meow answered him, provoking Severus to smile slightly.

"Tuna? Sardines? Mackerel?  Lucky for you that so many potions require fish extracts.  And that Muggles are more than masters in the art of canning them," he grumbled as he emptied a tin of sardines into the bowl for the cat, who eagerly set to it almost before its feet hit the floor.

"Behave yourself, Mister Potter, your total lack of manners is appalling!" he muttered.

The cat ignored him completely, and emptied the bowl in a matter of seconds, before turning its satisfied expression toward him and conspicuously licking its chops.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Very well, can we proceed, Mister Potter, or would you first like to clean yourself up in the feline manner?" he scoffed.  The face the cat made was so human that he had to suppress a smile.  Still scrutinizing the cat, he contented himself with lifting his mouth in a questioning smile.

A hoarse and disapproving meow answered him.  Yes, he was ready….  The cat blinked to let Snape know it understood, and got to its feet in preparation.

The transformation was more difficult than usual, but still less so than the last one.

"Thanks," he said, after regaining his balance. "At least I don't have a mustache this time."

"Don't despair, Potter," Snape said ironically, "that will come."

Harry fell to the bed with a grimace.  For a short moment, their eyes met, and it seemed to the boy that the entire matter of the kidnapping had never taken place.  He'd never left the Manor, Snape had never rejected him, no one had died…

But hadn't Snape precisely said that no one had died?

Everything was too confusing for him to think about it now.  In his human form, things were definitely blacker and more complicated.

Snape must've sensed this, because an instant afterward, all track of humor left his face, as he leant over him.  "Harry, are you all right?"

The boy shook his head.  There were too many things, and…he didn't want to discuss them, not now.  Never, if that were possible.  "I…I don't fell very well.  I don't think the potions are working anymore, Professor."

"Indeed, it's time to take additional doses.  This one first," he said as he held out a bluish phial.

His expression hadn't lost its trace of worry, Harry saw.  His gaze lingered a moment on the hand holding the second bottle; it wasn't shaking, but he could see by the way the fingers clenched the phial, that Snape was still suffering.

It was time to move on to serious matters.

"Professor?" he asked when he'd swallowed the last potion. "I don't see the magic in the air anymore like before."

"That's normal," Snape agreed. "The spell stopped acting when you transformed."  Lifting his wand, the Potions master let out a long incantation that trailed off into a prolonged murmur.  Almost a song, Harry thought.

A moment later, the thin thread of green mist materialized once again, more diffuse, motionless across the room.

"It's not moving," Harry stated, disconcerted.

"Voldelmot can reach neither your thoughts nor your powers when you are in your Animagus form.  In truth, he can't even tell if you're alive.  I tried to make you take that form earlier, when the situation seemed critical, but you didn't have enough magic in you to respond to the potion."

Harry nodded slowly.  That made sense.  Now that he was back in his human form, Voldemort wasn't going to take long to start up the fight for his powers again.

But he had no intention of letting him call the shots.

Snape was staring at him, and seemed to follow his train of thought.  "Ready, Harry? If things go badly, if you feel you must rest, let me know and I'll give you another dose of the Animagus potion.  You seem strong enough for it to work now.  Understood?"

"Understood. You…you'll stay near me?" Harry asked, his voice more pitiful than he would've liked.

Without answering, the professor sat on the bed with his back against the wall and made a gesture for Harry to join him.

Harry obeyed and went to settle in against him, his face turned toward the window.  Hard as he tried to think, he didn't remember having felt such a sense of security before.  When Snape rested a hand on his forehead, letting Harry's head rest on his shoulder as he wrapped a protective arm around him, Harry thought that this was surely the way James would've held him if he were sick, had he lived.

The image of James and Lily reproaching him for being alive, so disappointed in their son, flashed in his memory, and he found himself pressing against Snape a bit more.

Like Shadow did, he thought.  But he wasn't Shadow. He was Harry and he had a task to finish.

A task largely made easier by Snape's presence, though.  Yes, the professor was there, and he could trust him.  Things were truly happening too quickly this summer…

But certain of them were definitely for the better.

Yes, truly for the better.

Without waiting any longer, he applied himself to once again closing each door in his mind. Then, preparing himself mentally for the battle awaiting him, he called the wisp of mist that was stretching out again.

And he absorbed it, slowly at first, then more rapidly as the task became easier.

His powers were returning and his strength with it; it wasn't so difficult anymore, almost exciting to feel the waves of magic break over him, rekindling every fiber of his being.

The mist became yellow, then, as Snape had predicted, orange.

But for all that, the magic in the mist didn't seem to weaken—much the opposite.  When the orange suddenly changed to mauve, Harry felt that something else had just changed , something in the nature itself of the powers he was absorbing.

It was magic, certainly, a powerful magic.  But it wasn't his own.

Behind him, he could feel Snape tense as well.  His fingers brushed across his forehead for an instant, as if he didn't know what to do.

Then he spoke, calmly, but Harry could intuit the hint of fervor in his tone.

"Harry, it's no longer your own magic you're absorbing now.  It's the Dark Lord's powers."

Silence reigned in the dungeon of Snape Manor, where time seemed to have all of a sudden come to a standstill.

"His powers?" Harry murmured with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He felt Snape nod his head behind him.

"Mine are back, aren't they? I've taken them all back?"

"Yes, your magic has been restored to its initial level." Snape's voice was tired and slightly uncertain.

In front of them, the influx of magic still hung in the air. The thick, mauve fog was furiously trying to leave by reversing its direction, but the boy's powers prevented it.

"I can take his powers, like he took them from me. Professor? Can that really work? Can I really steal his magic from him?"

There was an instant of silence, then Snape answered, "It would seem so. The potion shouldn't allow it, but it shouldn't have permitted him to continue to steal your powers that way either. The connection between the two of you is a unique case in magical history, you must understand. It would appear that the balance of power has been reversed, even if we don't know why. It's impossible to predict what might happen now. I can only assure you, without being positive, that this link between your powers will end when the potion's effects wear off in two days."

"And until then—"Harry began.

"Until then, anything is possible," Severus concluded.

"I want to do it," the boy said firmly. He felt the Potions master stiffen behind him.

"Harry, you must fully understand what that means. Each wizard's magic is unique, and it's absolutely not made to be mixed with someone else's. Even if a magical link connects you, your powers have nothing to do with each other's. You magic will fight against this intrusion."

"But he did it very well!" Harry replied.

"That's different. Voldemort is neither totally living, nor truly dead. He's no longer a wizard as you and I are. How he uses magic is very different, and he's powerful and corrupt enough to absorb powers of a different nature and assimilate them without damage. That's not the case with you, Harry," Snape explained.

"But I could deprive him of his powers," Harry said thoughtfully. "Weaken them, at least for a moment. If I manage to steal all his magic, what would happen? To him, I mean?"

"He will not die," Snape replied. "If you managed to absorb all his powers, then perhaps he could definitely be without magic. But Harry, that won't happen. Even in this fashion, stealing another wizard's powers is extremely exhausting, even more so for someone so young. As for draining Voldement of his magic completely, that would take a considerable effort, just to break the last link that ties him to his magic. It's impossible, Harry, even for you. At the most, you could deprive him of part of his powers for a time, until he builds them up again. It's not worth it. Content yourself with preventing him from taking your powers again. That will be already prove exhausting enough to keep up during the two days that remain of the potion."

"But I have to try," murmured Harry. "I can't not do it, it's a chance I'll not have again."

"No, indeed, and that's a good thing," Snape answered.

"I really feel better. Please, let me try?"

The professor sighed. "It's not as if I can stop you, foolish child."

"Sure you can!" said the young wizard. "I need you…." He felt the blush begin in his face. "I can't do it without you. Really. So if you're against it…." He shrugged. "Please, help me."

Severus sat silently for a moment. Then he slowly nodded. "You can try. But if you experience the slightest trouble, the least difficulty, you will stop. Is that clear?"

The boy smiled. Yes, it was a good thing, to ask permission…and to almost be refused because someone was worried about him. If someone had told him there'd come a day when he'd be happy to see Snape keep him from doing what he wanted!

"Yes, Professor."

He felt Snape's hand rest on his shoulder and give him a gentle shove. The Potions master got up with difficulty and headed for the bag containing Pomfrey's potions. Now there only remained some painkilling potions, some Dreamless Sleep, and a few others meant for Harry…but nothing for Snape to regain his strength.

Snape turned toward the simmering cauldrons and slowly went about the preparations. Each movement seemed to require an enormous effort. All the energy the Death Eaters had taken from Harry had been restored to the boy, at the cost of his own this time. It was a small price to pay, but still, it wasn't as if he'd been physically up to par before that. Without the aid of potions, he couldn't support Harry in his battle for Voldemort's powers.

Not that he was sure that he approved of this about-face in the situation. The benefits of this operation seemed more than uncertain; Harry could just as well suffer from this influx of foreign magic as he could profit from it. But if things turned out badly, he could force the boy to transform into his cat form, and in that way stop all outside influence.

The chief advantage that Severus saw in the maneuver was the psychological benefit. Harry needed to fight, to take the upper hand, to direct his aggressiveness and desire to vanquish toward a precise goal! A despondent and terrorized Harry was the worst of situations.

If the boy encountered problems, Snape would handle them in due course. In the end, these problems would not be so serious, or at least that was what he was convinced of now.

It suddenly came to him that Dumbledore would completely approve of his decision to let Harry try to steal the Dark Lord's powers, because he had to give all that he had, didn't he, try everything, even at the risk of his own life?

But Albus was wrong—Harry wasn't a weapon. He was a target, and right now, a victim…a wounded teenager who needed to believe in himself, in someone, and in something. Even if that something had to be the convictions instilled into him by an old, war-weary wizard.

But he knew he was being unfair; Dumbledore wasn't like that. He had more affection for the boy than anyone else probably, outside of his friends.

Good god, and of himself, perhaps…surely.

The boy was his responsibility now. He wouldn't let anyone, even the Headmaster, steer his life per a prophecy uttered by a scatterbrained hysteric, universally known for her systematic and catastrophic erroneous predictions!

That prophecy which had already done harm enough…and because of Snape.

He shook his head. He was much too exhausted to think about that now. But he was beginning to fathom why Albus had been so indulgent with the boy all these years.

Merlin help him, he was starting to become like Dumbledore.

He turned toward Harry, who was resting, stretched out on the bed.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" he asked brusquely.

The boy started. "A bit. But I think the potions are still working," he answered after a moment.

Severus nodded. Pomfrey's potions probably weren't strong enough to completely wipe out his pain. His own potions were ready now; he'd have enough for the immediate future.

He was pleased to think that he was still capable of preparing a potion with his eyes shut, but in the end, he was surprised to note he'd guessed rightly. Incapable of focusing on the measurements and exact gestures required in their preparation, his reflexes had taken over, and the potions were there, as powerful and perfect as ever. He'd been able to prepare the Theft of Magic potion under Voldemort's constant surveillance, after all, so this shouldn't have surprised him. Yes, it'd all definitely started with potions, and would end with them…

With stiff steps, he returned to the makeshift bed and handed the potions to Harry, who swallowed them without a word.

The green eyes staring at his face seemed to scrutinize him intently and inquisitively. Something was bothering him…

"Professor…your Mark?

Snape nodded, his hand moving reflexively to rest on his left forearm. "The summons has lessened greatly in intensity. Nothing unbearable. Do you want to rest a bit before starting again?"

But the boy's eyes suddenly began to shine with a renewed glow. "No. I'm going to take his powers now, and he won't be able to reach you anymore! Never again," he hissed.

Severus felt his throat constrict. That wasn't what he'd expected. What was going on in Harry's mind? Did he really mean what he was saying? Did he even want to protect himself from another attack like the one he'd suffered? Too much rage, too much instant aggression inside him….

"Harry. No," he said firmly. With his good hand, he grasped the boy's chin and forced him to look at him. "Don't ever fight that way."

Harry clenched his teeth, holding Severus' eyes, a bit disconcerted. "What do you mean?"

"To throw yourself into battle, you must possess several things. The will, the courage, and the strength, whatever your weapon. You must know why you're fighting, and be convinced that it's worth it. Rage can be an asset, especially in desperate situations, but there's a very fine line between the rage to vanquish and this impulsiveness that makes you forget why and how. Composure, Harry, and clear-mindedness—you cannot allow yourself to set them aside."

"But I want him to pay, I want him to leave you alone! I sense that I can do it, I know it!" the boy said through his clenched teeth.

"One can win a fight, and lose his soul. Voldemort's the best proof of that."

Harry's face was almost sorrowful now. "I'm not like him…" he murmured.

"No, certainly not. And you never will become like him. If you've taken this notion of absorbing his powers to heart, then do it; but let it be done in a reasoned way and in all conscience. Not out of inner rage. You're not in any shape to withstand this sort of confrontation," Snape said decidedly.

"What do I have to do?" Harry gave in.

"You've managed quite well up until now. Concentrate, don't let your emotions get in the way of your task."

The boy nodded, but Severus sensed his uncertainty.

"Get yourself ready while I finish putting the potions in phials."

Harry sat back against the wall, but still watched Severus, who had the unpleasant impression of having each and every one of his stiff and economical movements examined.

Obviously, if Harry understood he'd be using Severus own strength in the process, he'd give up his plan…

No, he had to let him try. Ever since he'd gained the upper hand in the battle for his powers, the boy had shed that lost, vacant look that disturbed the Potions master so much.

It was worth it. Truly.

He'd anticipated the quantities of potions needed to see them through a week at this rate, and all the available phials were quickly put to use. Pepper-up, painkilling, sleep and, of course, healing potions… Yes, that would be enough; no need to get any other preparations underway. At that point, they'd be back at Hogwarts.

Taking an assortment of potions, he returned to the bed and set the extras close at hand, in anticipation of what was to follow.

Potions were never enough, he knew, and perhaps he wouldn't be able to get up the next time they'd need to take one. In truth, he'd rarely felt himself so close to the verge of exhaustion. If only he could sleep…

It seemed as if years had gone by since the last time he'd really rested. Spying for Dumbledore, at the same time acting the part of a Death Eater, brewing potions, classes, watching over the Slytherins….

No, ever before that, he'd not been in the habit of sleeping soundly.

The worry of his days at Hogwarts, dogged by the Marauders' footsteps , and the anguish that'd grabbed him by the throat as soon as he'd stepped into that familiar house, had hardly offered him a chance to fall into a restorative sleep. Neither the shadow of his mother, nor the protective presence of Dumbledore later on, had succeeded in convincing him that he could be safe while he slept, even in the heart of the Slytherin dungeons.

No, he didn't need to spend an hour each evening, setting up warding spells like Moody. He simply waited, his wand within reach of his hand.

And now, more than ever he felt the weight of his resistance to sleep; he was so worn-out, so exhausted by recent events, that he was no longer sure of being able to make the right decisions.

Lily forgive him if he was wrong, but this time he had to trust his instincts.

Once again, he sat on the bed beside Harry, requiring more flexibility of his muscles than was reasonably possible. The boy didn't appear to be fooled, though, his eyes fixed on him with a fierce expression.

"Professor?"

"Do you feel ready?" Severus asked evasively.

Harry nodded, seeming to hesitate over adding something, then decided not to.

"Eat a bit of something beforehand," Severus said as he handed him a bowl of soup.

The boy swallowed it down without a word, as if it were a potion, glancing furtively at the professor. "You're not eating?" he finally asked.

"Later," Severus dryly replied. He certainly wasn't about to start having his eating habits scrutinized by a sixteen year old teenager whose own were more than questionable!

Harry didn't press him, but the mutinous expression on his face didn't lessen. He bent over to place the bowl on the floor, then turned to Snape with determination. "I'm ready."

Severus searched his face for a moment. They were going to fight, harboring so many uncertainties and erroneous assumptions, all in the pursuit of a goal, the consequences of which they still didn't know.

"Harry, do you know why you're doing this?"

There was an instant of hesitation in the boy's eyes, then a calm assurance. "Because it's important."

Snape couldn't have given a better reason. He nodded and, positioning himself so he'd be able to remain immobile for a long while, motioned for Harry to join him.

Harry slid onto the bed to get closer, then turned toward him. "Professor…I just wanted to tell you thanks, and…I know that it's stupid, but if something ever goes wrong, I want you to know that I really appreciated everything you've done for me. Being here, these last few weeks, have probably been the best hols I've ever spent. It was almost like…." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm sorry for all of it. I promise to do all I can to fix things…thanks for everything."

"Foolish child," Severus murmured. "Or rather, foolish cat. You certainly have no need to fix anything; how many times must I repeat that you you've done nothing wrong in all of this?" he grumbled before he sighed.

"Harry, there are still many things that are very jumbled up in your mind, and that's completely normal. I don't know how…there's not a simple way to consider things. Do what seems important to you, Harry; the most pressing matter at the moment is for you to regain your strength and get back on your feet. The rest is really of little importance."

Speaking was beginning to require a considerable effort, and thinking, even more.

"I want it to stop," the boy said, subdued. "So that no one else gets hurt or killed. I'm the only one who can do it…but I don't know how. I'm going to try, of course, I promise," he repeated.

Snape shook his head and pulled Harry against him. "Whatever happens, Shadow…I'm proud of you."

The words sounded harsh in his mouth, and Severus was almost surprised to hear them. Then relieved. He should've felt irritated or ill-at-ease, but he was too tired for that.

Harry tensed at his words, so Snape closed his eyes and laid his hand on Harry's forehead. At the contact, he felt him relax, until he melted against him.

Severus smiled slightly; it was almost easy to believe, like this, that it was a ten year old boy snuggling against his shoulder. Or a cat. No, a child, definitely a child.

It was a very strange day. Another one. But wherever this matter took him, for once he wouldn't be ending up alone. And someone else needed to hear that as well.

"I won't leave you. You're not alone. Whatever you do or whatever happens, I'm here with you."

And it was a blessed state of exhaustion that allowed the words to flow so freely.

Nothing happened for several seconds, then Harry took a deep breath, and started to systematically close his mind and ready his defenses.

And his attack.

For once in his life, he was going to take the offensive! Oh, of course, it wasn't as if he hadn't already fought a basilisk, or , let's see, Voldemort. But this time, he was on the attack, fully aware of why—not to defend himself, not really.

He had the will, he had the courage, he had the strength, and he had Snape. Oh yes, he had Snape, and he had no intention of losing him. The man was positively ashen, his entire demeanor stiff and pained. Voldemort wasn't content to torture him through his Mark; he was draining his life away as well!

Oh well, Voldemort wouldn't be taking him. Because Snape had done so much for him, because Shadow or Harry needed the professor, desperately needed his presence, the safety and comfort he gave him, and because Harry had no one but him anymore.

No one but him.

Hogwarts was only a refuge, his life a cemetery, but he certainly wasn't going to let Voldemort take the last thing from him that he had.

Whatever that was. Be it a huge empty manor, even a cynical Potions professor who'd become his last defense against madness. Or against emptiness, if that made a difference.

The long thread of mauve mist started to slowly come nearer. It was fascinating to watch, this little dance of the Dark Lord's powers, struggling to return to their master, and yet unable to resist the attraction that Harry imposed upon them.

At the beginning, he only felt a slight tingling, like a mild electric current running through his veins, but nothing really unpleasant…but troubling, perhaps.

The more he absorbed the influx of magic, the more he had the impression of the prickling morphing into a torrent, into a storm inside his body. Actually, he could hear the noise of violent wind beating against all the obstacles in its path! No, it was impossible….

He opened his eyes again; the room was much darker now. And yet, he didn't feel as if much time had passed since they'd started.

What time could it be?

Looking up at the window, he understood. The storm wasn't actually inside his body; it was really the sound of wind he'd heard, blowing wildly around the Manor. The sky was obscured by the gathering clouds, hiding the sun from the last of the evening.

Harry sat up to better see what was happening outside. The hand that'd been on his forehead all along was withdrawn, only to reappear a moment later to hand him a potion.

He took it without thinking. "Is it a real storm?" he asked.

"If your question is whether or not the wind and rain outside are real, they are. As for their occurring naturally, on the other hand, it would seem not. Voldemort is trying to throw you off balance. Or destroy the Manor, I'm not exactly sure," Snape said ironically.

"You really think so?" Harry asked worriedly.

"About the Manor? No. A storm will have no effect against these walls and he knows it. It's a demonstration of strength, probably sustained by the group of Death Eaters gathered around the grounds. Nothing that should worry you. Drink."

Without looking away from the window, Harry drank the potion. "I don't like this," he murmured.

"It's only wind and rain, Harry. The Manor is sound, you have nothing to worry about," Snape said reassuringly.

"It's not just that; I feel like the storm is inside of me as well."

"You've absorbed a great amount of power, so that's not surprising. It'd be best to stop here, at least for the moment."

Harry looked around him, as if he'd lost track of time. "How long have I been doing this?" he asked.

"Five hours. It's time to repeat your treatment," the professor replied.

Harry stretched, then moved to give Snape more room. He really felt better now, despite his wounds and the pain in his reawakening muscles. He could feel the foreign powers struggling to find their place in him, stirring his own magic, sharpening his senses. At least he wasn't exhausted now.

He turned to Snape to share his enthusiasm, but his smile quickly froze when he saw the Potions master's face. He was strikingly pale now; in fact, his entire body, of which the Potions master always seemed in complete control, resembled a marionette that'd been abandoned after its performance. Snape had aged ten years in the space of several hours.

But like Harry, he didn't feel in such bad shape. In truth, if it weren't for fact that he felt vulnerable and poorly in control of his movements, he would've been rather satisfied with the situation.

The potions hadn't been enough, in the end. He'd not thought to have to use so many, and like any good Potions master, he'd expected they'd not be as effective the third time around.

He'd been right. But there was certainly one positive thing about total exhaustion combined with an excessive intake of potions: they'd considerably reduced his stress level.

Oh, he was aware that the Manor was protected adequately, that Voldemort couldn't reach them directly, and that Harry was for now out of immediate danger.

But there were risks: the not so immediate danger, the diverse factors to take into account, and the various levels of analysis and understanding that the situation warranted.

Ah well, Merlin forgive him, but now a single avenue of thought occupied him—that of the current situation, and he was perfectly satisfied with it.

Harry was doing fine. Snape was going to take care of him, make him eat, sleep, and all would go well. Until the next morning at least. After which, there remained a day for them to live through, but that could wait. If Voldemort had nothing better than a miserable storm with which to distract Harry, let him continue to work his mischief.

As for himself, he'd had more than enough of that mischief these past few years.

He reached out for the potions and took three, which he gave to Harry

For a moment, he contemplated the idea of taking one last Pepperup to make sure of staying awake while Harry slept…but he knew it would've been ineffective.

"Do you feel able to eat something solid?" he asked the boy.

Harry jumped to his feet with an energy that would've made the professor smile if the muscles of his face hadn't been completely numb.

"I'll take care of the meal, Professor!" the teenager said enthusiastically.

"I'm not sure…."

"Hey, I manage all right on my own, you remember?" Harry protested.

"I'm not calling your culinary competency into question. On the other hand, the storm might've caused damage to the upper storey, nothing more than broken glass, most likely, but it's unnecessary to take risks," Snape explained. "See what you can do with the stores in the back of the cupboard."

Harry nodded. "Do you need anything else?  A potion?"

"No," Snape said tersely. "How do you feel?"

"Much better, thanks. I feel like I've downed an entire cauldron of Pepperup! And I can feel my powers…it's a rather strange sensation, as if my powers and his got bigger when they came together.  But it's not unpleasant, just the opposite!"

Severus nodded. The boy's aura was a deep, radiant mauve now, nothing abnormal at first glance.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other for a moment, saying, "Don't mean to offend you, Professor, but you look terrible. Is there anything I can do?"

Snape grimaced. "Even more than usual, you mean? No, Harry, I just need sleep, and you do as well."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape didn't give him the chance.

"You surely feel in fine form, but your body needs sleep to recover and correctly assimilate the powers. You'll take a potion if necessary," the professor finished decisively.

The boy nodded reluctantly and headed for the cupboard. Some food supplies occupied the shelves, along with various questionable potions ingredients. He selected two items, and then began to look for pots.

With a quick incantation, Snape made them appear on the table. The professor seemed downright pallid and exhausted. He should've already felt better too, with all the powers Harry'd taken from Voldemort. Harry noticed several empty phials at the end of the bed. Energy potions, what remained of them.

So, what was going on with the professor? Snape had to know what he was doing, though, like he always did…

Harry nervously emptied the contents of the boxes into a pan and said a series of incantations. A bit of flame couldn't hurt; this certainly wouldn't be high cuisine, but it'd be enough for the moment.

And now that he saw the food cooking, it struck him that he was really hungry; his stomach growled approvingly.

If only that bloody storm would stop, the evening would've almost been perfect….

Satisfied with the result, Harry held out a plate to Snape, and sat in the nearest armchair. The professor hadn't budged an inch since Harry'd begun to cook, and didn't make any move to eat, his eyes fixed on the window.

Harry took a few mouthfuls, fighting the urge to devour his plate, and then cleared his throat. "Professor? I can vouch that it's edible," he said with a gesture at the still-untouched plate.

Snape nodded. "I'm sure it is, thank you. I'll do your meal justice later; I'm not hungry right now."

Harry resisted the impulse to tell him that whether he felt like it or not, he certainly wouldn't have had a choice. Best not to venture into that terrain, though; Snape didn't seem in the mood to be patient with him.

Now that his stomach was full, he had to admit that the professor was right; he felt his body relax and become sluggish, ready to fall asleep.

He was startled when Snape finally got up, motioning him to the bed with a hand. "An application of salve to your wounds, and you can sleep. Do you think you need a potion?" he asked.

Harry shook his head and went to sit on the side of the bed. He didn't much like the idea of the salve, but he remembered that Shadow had found it especially helpful on his burns…

"Take off your tee-shirt and lie down," Snape directed as he opened the jar. "It will be easier that way."

What was harder, on the other hand, Harry thought, was to not fall asleep.

Despite the potions, the marks on his back still burned. Like the last time that Vernon….when he'd…  He didn't want to think about it. "I won't have to go back there again, will I?" he croaked out, half-asleep.

"Go back where, Harry?" the Potions master asked calmly.

"To the Dursleys. Vernon said Dumbledore wanted me to stay with them to punish me…but you won't let them, will you? You said I could stay here!"

He felt the fingers on his back tense for an instant, before resuming their gentle motion.

"No, Harry, you're not going anywhere. Dumbledore most certainly doesn't want to punish you, and it's out of the question for you to go back to that family of dengen…  To your family."

"Vernon said he won the trial. To keep me. That Dumbledore didn't want me back at Hogwarts anymore. He has the right, I guess…" the boy sighed.

"Certainly not," Snape sighed in return. "None of that ever happened, Harry. It was…a macabre farce. The hearing was adjourned, obviously, after you were kidnapped."

"No, I saw them, I…he…you know it, you were helping them!" Harry said in cry of frustration.

"That was Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy in the guise of your uncle," Severus said as clearly as he could.

"I was at Privet Drive. In my room…and the cupboard. And Petunia and Dudley…" He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He didn't want to see Dudley's empty eyes again, his soul sucked out by Dementors, all because of him,  all because….

Snape understood that he wasn't going to rectify this problem very quickly. He obviously should've waited. There was far too much to sort out, and Harry was still too confused, despite his surprising form that evening. He'd truly been impressed by the boy's capacity for surmounting all that he'd had to endure recently. But he mustn't try to go too quickly.

For now, what counted was to reassure him.

"Harry, I promised you I wouldn't leave you, and I intend to keep that promise. You're at home here. I wouldn't allow anyone to take you away against your will, or mine. Is that clear?" he asked.

He felt the boy's muscles relax bit by bit, as his words sank into his mind.

"You're my cat, after all," he said with an attempt at levity.

But Harry didn't laugh. He slowly turned his green eyes to him, and stared at him intently for what seemed like an eternity. Then he smiled, and Severus felt something settle in his chest, something that hadn't been there in a very, very long time.

The eyes closed again, but the smile lingered on the boy's drowsy face.

Severus continued to massage the back of his neck and shoulders for a moment, trying to unknot the muscles cramped by the tension of these past few days. How Harry was still able to find the courage to fall asleep so quickly was a mystery to Severus.

Pulling up the covers to tuck the boy in, Severus finally fell into his armchair.

Harry. His cat. What had the boy been thinking? Whatever it was, it clearly had been something positive.

Merlin, what was he to do about all of this?

But he wasn't worried. No, truly not worried. He knew he'd been right, that for once he'd done what had to be done.

Voldemort could very well blow a tornado around the Manor, and Albus could throw all the prophecies he'd like at Harry, but they couldn't change a thing about what tied him to the boy.

Nor what he felt for him.

Merlin, he was really too tired…

He got up and went to the boy again, running a hand through his hair as he murmured, "Shadow, become Shadow again."

His words must've touched Harry's subconscious, because an instant afterward, the black cat curled up in a ball on the pillow.

Satisfied, Severus hesitated over transfiguring his own armchair into a bed. No, that wouldn't be necessary. He was too tired to do it, in any case.

He fell heavily into the armchair, checking one last time that all the wards were in place, that the cat was sleeping peacefully, and then allowed his own body to succumb to sleep.

oooOOOooo

Though not for very long, it appeared, when he opened his eyes again.

Something was wrong. The storm outside seemed much more impressive, now that it was the dead of night, the leaves and broken branches knocking against the window panes, and the wind whipping in through the fireplace.

But that wasn't what had awakened him.  He leapt up: Harry was in the middle of the room, his back to him, heading resolutely for the stairs leading to the park!

"Harry!"

The boy started, and turned around toward him. His face was immobile, expressionless, his eyes befuddled and vacant.

"Harry, where are you going?" Snape asked with all the calm he could muster.

The teenager turned back to the stairs, without seeming to move, though caught in a dilemma.

He had to go. He had to leave. If he stayed there any longer, something horrible was going to happen to Snape, to him, to everyone. Outside, everything would be fine, he knew it, the voice was telling him, over and over…

Snape swore to himself.

Bloody hell, how could he've forgotten that Harry often transformed in his sleep? Something was wrong with the boy's behavior, almost like a sleepwalker. Voldemort? Probably.

"Harry, come to me, please. You cannot go out, there's a storm outside."

Of course, he could, he had to go out. The storm wouldn't do anything to him, but if Snape got close to him, the man was going to suffer because of him; if he wanted to help Snape, he had to go out and stop Voldemort from continuing to harass him.

"Harry, please? Shadow?" Snape said in that gentle voice he'd not heard before this summer.

Snape.  He wanted to listen to him; he knew he could trust him.

"Shadow?" Snape repeated.

Harry felt the familiar sensation of comfort wash over him, as he used his powers to find the cat within himself…but a portion of his powers absolutely didn't want him to, and struggled fiercely to stop him. It wasn't a lack of magic this time, but an excess, and a clash of powers!

He felt the tension grow inside himself, running through his entire body like electricity, trying to leave, to boil over, to fight…

Voldemort, the red eyes, the dungeon, Snape, the Manor, Lucius, the smell of potions, and Bellatrix who laughed and laughed, Snape who let him fall asleep, safely against him, who promised him he'd be there, Snape so tired; he had to fight, he'd done it before, he wouldn't let the professor down either!

This was his Potions master!

Hand at his wand, Severus forced himself to stay still. He didn't know whether he wanted to run for the boy, or recoil from the flood of magic filling the room in violent shock waves, black and mauve, electrifying the air.

No, this wasn't only Harry, even if Snape could see the waves radiating from his entire body. From under the door and through the window pane, the fog entered like sand swept along by the wind, swirling helter-skelter throughout the room, fighting angrily to find a master.

"Harry, look at me, listen to me; you must get the upper hand; tell me what's happening!"

The response finally came, despairingly. "I have to go out!" Harry shouted. "He can't have you! I have to go out!"

"That's not your decision; keep him from accessing your mind, Harry, push him away! You must not listen to him!"

"You don't understand!" the boy groaned, torn between the two voices.

"The same thing happened at the Ministry, remember, he wanted you to go through the door and everything would be fine, but it was a lie, a trap! Fight, throw him out of your head! Now!"

"I don't want to lose you as well!" Harry shouted.

"I spent the day telling you again and again that I won't leave you.  Must I make an Unbreakable Vow or sign a contract in good faith?" hissed the professor.

"But you're dying. If I don't stop him…."

"I'm not going to die, foolish child!" Snape took his turn to shout. "I'm simply tired; a bit of sleep will be enough to put me to rights, and my Mark is almost silent, now that the Dark Lord is focusing his powers on the storm! You're not obliged to save the world, for the love of Merlin! Nothing will happen to either of us, so long as you don't leave this place! If you go through that door, Harry, I'll be forced to follow you, and we'll both be in grave danger of dying!"

"No, you have to stay here!" Harry answered, struggling to clear his mind.

"I let you go to the Ministry alone; I'm not making the same mistake twice.  For the hundredth time today, I will not leave you."

It was perhaps the hundredth time, but for Harry, it was the decisive one. Snape wouldn't leave him, and he wouldn't leave Snape—it was as simple as that. All that remained was to make the voice understand.

No, he had to make it leave…fight it….

Severus wasn't at the Ministry. He doesn't know. Oh, Harry, he doesn't need you; he's only doing this because he's required to…he's lying to you. He's been lying to you since the beginning.

No…

In the space of an instant, two red glittering eyes, and a scene, flashed through his mind.

Hogwarts, Dumbledore's office, and Snape was there, furious as he paced the room.

"It's out of the question for me to concern myself with this little brat any longer, Albus! I kept him with me because you required it, but it's done now; I don't want to hear anymore about it! It's bad enough to have to play the spy with the Dark Lord, but to pretend to put up with Potter on top of it all? You ask too much of me! Save him from the trap he's got himself mixed up in, or leave him to manage on his own—it's no longer my concern! Good riddance if he gets himself killed, he'll never be able to fulfill his destiny anyway—he much too stupid and incompetent!"

"Severus, he trusts you, and we must make use of that!" Dumbledore replied.

"You're asking too much of me. You know very well that he'll be of no use anyway. Leave him there where he is; we've already wasted too much time and energy on him. I'll not suffer his whinging a moment longer; I've never known a child as obnoxious and unlikable as that one!"

The vision faded away, and the laboratory reformed around him…more or less. The waves of magic swirled more furiously than ever, breaking against the walls to roll back again, making the surrounding air hazy.

The first thing he saw, just a few steps away, though, was Snape's face, watching him, his features etched with worry.

Snape. It would've been so easy to believe that vision a few weeks ago…even a few days ago.

But that scene had never taken place. He didn't doubt it for a second. Like Sirius tortured by Voldemort in the bowels of the Ministry, it had been created from start to finish to torment Harry. Once again.

But Voldemort had no right, no right to take it out on the professor, not after Sirius, not after all the others.

No, he wouldn't let Snape down, and that involved this vision as well.

Voldemort didn't have the right to sully Snape. He didn't have the right to take it out on him. On them. And Harry was going to let him know it. Boring his eyes into the professor's, he endeavored to summon it from deep inside of himself, all that he felt for the man who'd saved him and taken him in.

The hardship, the fear, the anxiety, the joy, the affection, the trust…

And all of a sudden it was too much. For Voldemort, for him…just too much. The presence in his head brutally fled with a scream of rage, and the air around him began to vibrate.

Too much. Too many things, too much time, too much pain, too many emotions, too much…

First it was the slight tinkling of crystal, then a combined noise of breaking glass, bursting forth as all the phials and window panes exploded, shooting hundreds of small shards of glass throughout the room.

Severus had very little time to think. He knew that Harry was doing battle with Voldemort for his powers, and now for the control of his mind. The Dark Lords' magic that had accumulated in Harry's body had probably made the intrusion easier.

Whatever he was trying to do, the boy had the upper hand.  Severus could sense it by the tension in his face. He'd thrown him out, but the delicate balance between his mind and his powers had broken. Harry had brutally set them free, and all this accumulated power wasn't going to be content with just destroying glass….

The protective wards. Harry and Voldemort's combined magic, savagely released against his wards? He wasn't sure if even a Fidelius would still stand after that….

And Voldemort was outside, surrounded by his Death Eaters, ready to kill the boy. In the physical state of exhaustion in which Snape now found himself, he could hardly sustain more that a few moments of attack…even taking into account the fact that Voldemort had been weakened.

Before the shards of glass could even reach the floor or the boy, Severus had made his decision.

He had time to see an emerald-colored shield form around the boy, as his own body fell, as if in slow motion, onto the stone floor of the dungeon.

Ah well, yes, Lily, you were right. Nothing like a bit of sacrificial magic to solve a problem. Totally Gryffindor, of course….

When his head struck the floor, he was already unconscious, a slight smile at his lips. He was finally going to be able to sleep.

oooOOOooo

Everything had happened so quickly. Harry'd instinctively raised his arm to protect his face, when he heard the glass breaking across the room.

But before it could reach him, someone had shouted out something, and Harry found himself imprisoned by a green, iridescent ball that held back the shards of glass.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape collapse to the floor, and then the reality of what'd occurred struck him.

Protego. He'd shouted Protego.

Merlin! What was happening? Protego wasn't supposed to create this type of phenomenon, and the one speaking it wasn't supposed to lose consciousness. At that instant, the shield surrounding him began to swell like a bubble, all the way to the dungeon walls that completely enclosed it. The green flash lasted an instant, before melting into the stone and disappearing.

Not bothering with the potions leaking out onto the floor around him, Harry rushed to the Potions master.

His face was perfectly still, his features relaxed for the first time since Harry'd known him. It wasn't possible, he couldn't be….

Feeling panic overtake him, Harry tried to find Snape's pulse. No, he couldn't have done this, he hadn't….

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Snape's heart was beating, and he was almost certain he saw the professor's chest rise slightly as he breathed.

He hesitated briefly…the potions were unusable now, and he didn't have the slightest idea of what could've happened to the professor.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, he undertook to try and rouse him. "Professor Snape?" he tried. "Please? Professor?"

Not the slightest sign of life.

Harry glanced desperately around him, looking keenly for something that could help him. Come to think of it, he wasn't all that sure he wanted the professor to wake up right away. The dungeon was a disaster; the table as well as the floor were covered with liquids and ingredients, most of them not seeming to appreciate their proximity to each other.

A less than inviting smoke rose up from the floor, and the wood of the table seemed to poorly withstand contact with the potions that'd covered it.

Best to get Snape on his feet quickly. Harry hesitated for an instant. He could've probably carried the professor to the bed, but he risked worsening his own wounds that way.

"Sorry, you surely wouldn't approve, but I really don't have a choice," he murmured. He grabbed Severus' wand from the floor and pointed it at its owner.

In a second, he'd placed the professor's inanimate body onto the bed. He hesitated over whether or not to place his wand beside him, before finally slipping it into his belt. If he had to defend himself, it'd be best if he at least had a chance.

Once again, he wasn't entirely certain that Snape would've approved of seeing his student borrow a wand…but he didn't have to inform him of that, did he?

He certainly didn't need to know that Harry had rolled up his sleeve one more time to see how painful his Mark was.

Painful enough, the boy concluded at the sight of the black scar, its borders still a bright red. Voldemort hadn't left his post.

Another look around him told him several things.

First, the tornado of magic that had run rampart in the laboratory was now calm. And as a result, the storm blowing outside seemed to have subsided as well.

Oh really? Subsided? Voldemort had expressed himself enough for now, so he mustn't have seen the point of continuing to threaten them this way.

Harry felt a flush of anger rise to his face. The dungeon, his refuge, was devastated, and Snape was there, obviously unconscious for a while, because of the half-living, half-dead wizard trying to steal his powers!

If Voldemort wanted to play it that way, he wasn't going to be disappointed. Harry certainly wasn't in any frame of mind to let him regain his strength. Snape's spell was perhaps no longer active, but Harry could feel the waves of power coursing through his body, and he felt in full possession of his abilities!

Snape wouldn't be there to support him this time, but it was his turn to protect the professor.

Once and for all.

Harry took a deep breath and got ready to refortify his defenses, when his eyes came to rest once more on the ex-Death Eater's forearm.

A mistake. The man had done the same thing as well, after all. Still, the advice he'd given seemed to make good sense…

No rage. No impulsiveness. One could win a battle and lose one's soul.

Harry felt his throat constrict. He had the will, the courage and the strength…but he didn't have the self-control.

Had Snape lacked it as well, the day he'd chosen to have this Mark placed on him?

One thing was certain: Harry couldn't let himself ignore Snape's warnings, not after what he'd just done for him…

No rage. He took a deep breath, and then another. He was doing this to save both of them. Because he couldn't sit and do nothing. Because he had a chance of winning.

He was doing it because it was his duty.

Securing the locks to his mind, one by one, he began again to draw on the magic he still felt around him. Slowly, without impulsiveness…without rage.

I promise you, Professor, without rage.

Through the window, he could see the stars slowly shift in the sky as the night deepened. There was nothing left of the storm, and he felt the bits of magic he was absorbing become more and more resistant and desperate to return to their master.

But the more he acquired them, the less effort the task required. Snape was right, though; he probably couldn't deplete all of the black wizard's magic. He didn't even intend to try to break through the last barrier. After the demonstration of the night before, it seemed too risky to try that alone…

That didn't stop him from trying his best to empty Voldemort of his resources. There was still that to occupy him, wasn't there?

He would've really liked for Snape to wake up, though. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen, once the effects of the potion wore off. Were they going to find themselves suddenly cut off from one another's powers?

Why was it all of the sudden so easy for him to take the Dark Lord's powers?

The sun was just rising when a movement in the fireplace made Harry jump to his feet. The telltale noise of Floo powder rang out, and the black wand was in Harry's hand before he had time to think.

The intruder entered the dungeon confidently, though, and his green robes had scarcely become visible when Harry understood why: hadn't Dumbledore said that he was the only one who could enter the Manor without being invited?

The boy took a step backward, without lowering his wand. The Headmaster froze in front of the fireplace, his eyes both pained and understanding. "Harry, my boy, I'm happy to see that you're safe and sound. What's happened to Severus?" he asked as he took a step toward the bed.

He had no chance to go any farther.

"Stay where you are! Don't go near him or you'll regret it! And don't think I won't do it, not after…" Harry clenched his teeth, his hand clutching the wand, his eyes boring into the Headmaster's blue ones.

"That's completely unnecessary, Harry, I have no intention of harming either you or Professor Snape; however, it seems urgent that he be examined."

"Not by you. Go back to where you came from; I won't let you touch him," the boy hissed.

"Harry, that's entirely irrational…"

"Don't go near him. Leave us alone!" Harry said determinedly, his eyes more threatening than ever.

"This is very regrettable, my boy, but you leave me no choice," Dumbledore answered, before reaching a hand out to him.

Wandless magic…and nonverbal, Harry had the time to think, before seeing the spell bounce off of him and slam into the walls, which immediately turned green.

"Sacrificial magic," Dumbledore murmured, clearly shocked. "Oh, Severus…."

He cast a glance full of regret at the Potions master lying on the bed, then turned his attention to the teenager coming toward him, wand in hand and eyes full of fury.

"You have three seconds," Harry hissed. "Don't ever set foot in here again, or I swear you'll pay dearly!"

"It's not what you think, my boy, but I believe it's actually preferable for me to go back now. Madam Pomfrey will send you some potions at once. When Severus awakens…could you tell him to contact me straight away?"

Harry didn't answer, his jaw clenched and clearly only a hair's-breadth away from casting a spell at the Headmaster.

Nodding, Dumbledore finally decided to throw another handful of Floo powder, and stepped into the fireplace with one last worried look at the professor. "Harry, I beg you, don't hesitate to call me for even the slightest problem. The situation has turned out well and…."

But Harry'd had enough. Murmuring a spell, he pointed the wand at the Headmaster's chest; the man disappeared in flames, propelled by force of the blast.

The boy smiled. He was fairly sure that this time Snape wouldn't have disapproved of Harry using his wand.

With a sigh, he sat in the armchair. Dumbledore was right about one thing, though; the professor needed healing. He didn't seem to have been injured by his fall or by the glass, but his comatose state couldn't be a good sign. Harry himself really didn't feel all that well, he realized.

The potions had stopped having any effect, which his entire body reminded him of painfully. There was really no point in listening to it, though, as all the potions were now in the process of eating away at the stone floor.

If only Snape could wake up… Whom else could he call? Not the Weasleys, all dead. Not the Order, for the same reason. Certainly not Dumbledore or McGonagall, and Remus was far away on a mission…

"Professor? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you hear me," he tried, vaguely remembering a first-aid course back in primary school.

Here too, no response. In fact, the professor didn't even seem to be sleeping; his face was much too placid, his body much too still and relaxed; he almost seemed to be dead…

Harry was on the verge of considering going through Snape's bedchamber in search of a potion, when green flames appeared once again in the fireplace.

Feeling his anger grip him, Harry pointed his wand at the grate, ready to cast a spell at the first one who dared to step over the hearth.

But the wait was in vain, as no one tried to force their way through, and when the flames died away, Harry could see a large wicker basket filled to the top with various potions, all labeled.

There was a note from Madam Pomfrey with them:

So, then, Dumbledore had had time to verify that Snape wasn't in real danger. That shouldn't have surprised him, obviously.

But Pomfrey was right; he shouldn't risk the professor's life… If he didn't see any improvement between now and noon, he'd come up with a excuse and call the Headmaster for reinforcements. Which wouldn't keep him from holding him at wand's-length.

After all, Dumbledore hadn't seemed able to attack him—an interesting development! But what had he meant by sacrificial magic? What exactly had Snape done by casting a Protego?

Harry shook his head. There were more urgent matters…the potions. He rummaged through the large assortment of bottles, looking for what might be useful. Madam Pomfrey had suggested a stabilization and healing potion, which seemed completely logical.

All that remained was how to make the professor swallow them.

Ill at ease, Harry went back to his bedside. Remembering the way Snape had done with him, he sat by his head and awkwardly tried to sit him up. The Potions master didn't resist, of course. Supporting his head, Harry carefully opened his jaws and emptied the contents of the phials down the unconscious professor's throat.

"I suspect you're going to hate me for that," the boy murmured.

Pepperup potion would probably be welcome, but considering the empty phials lying at the bottom of the bed, Snape had already greatly abused it; an overdose was really the last thing he needed. If his memory was correct, it took four hours for this potion to wear off.  The usefulness of Potions homework suddenly occurred to him like a revelation.

No, Potions wasn't just a boring, uninteresting class; it really had a real-life application…who would've believed it? A wave of regret ran through him. So much time wasted, complaining about Snape, instead of applying himself to classes that could save lives…one more thing he should tell the man when he awakened.

That…and thank you. Again.

But for now, he couldn't see anything else to do but wait. Carefully lowering the professor's head to the pillow, he took up his place in the armchair and took his turn to drink down several potions. A healing potion and one for pain couldn't do any harm, that's what Snape would've given him, after all.

Relatively satisfied with the result, he settled himself comfortably amongst the cushions and prepared once again to take up the silent fight against Voldemort.

Calm and straightforward. He could do it.

And he did. Hours passed by slowly, smoothly, the magic gliding toward him without interruption. He could sense it weakening, and felt a feeling of triumph steal over him: maybe he was going to be able to vanquish Voldemort after all. Perhaps it wouldn't be any harder than this, sitting in an armchair and calmly changing Voldemort into a Squib! Without magic, his Death Eaters would desert him, and he would quickly be captured, probably killed.

What if it were as simple as that?

It was almost noon when a thick fog began to form around the window. Harry'd already noticed this phenomenon before, but this time, he felt a shudder run through him, forcing him to break his concentration.

It was time to take additional potions anyway…but what could have given him this bad feeling all of a sudden, this anxiety that seized him by the throat?

He went to Snape, who still hadn't moved. No apparent change…the professor seemed neither better nor worse. Harry still couldn't help but feel nervous; something was wrong, and the feeling was becoming more pronounced.

Trying to ignore his anxiety, he began to make Snape drink his potions. Healing, stabilization…and two Pepperups wouldn't be too much. After all, Pomfrey had expressly said he wasn't in danger of poisoning him!

This time, it seemed as if something worked. The wizard's face tensed slightly, making him look more like the professor whom Harry knew. His eyelids fluttered, as if he were dreaming.

"Professor?" Harry tried.

No reaction. Perhaps it was a bit too soon.  Even so, he wasn't pleased by that. He went toward the window to take a better look at the fogginess surrounding the Manor. Suddenly it was really cold, though it was still noon, in the middle of summer.

And all of a sudden Harry understood. The revelation left him breathless and his entire body froze.

Dementors. Voldemort was calling Dementors to the rescue, and he was gathering them around the Manor, probably as close as the wards would allow him.

He couldn't get in, at least Harry didn't think so, but all of them assembled around the property, the effect of it would be enough to make him lose his wits! He didn't want…he couldn't….

Oh, Merlin, Snape! He had to wake up!

The sound of groaning broke into his thoughts. He turned toward the Potions master, full of hope. Although still unconscious, the professor seemed to have emerged from the coma in which he'd been for hours. His head hanging down, he seemed trapped in a

 nightmare, a matter in which the Dementors were surely not innocent.

Harry came closer, torn between curiosity and worry. Snape seemed to be mumbling something, but Harry couldn't make out the words.

He felt an icy sweat break out on his back when the echo of a woman's scream rang out deep in his memory. And when he bent over to hear the words Snape was saying, he felt the rest of his body chill as well.

"Lily…no…not Lily…I beg you…"

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be that.  Snape couldn't be dreaming of the same thing as Harry right now, could he?

But the images of the green light and a young woman named Lily, begging for her life, swept through his mind in a flash, and Harry could feel the almost familiar despair steal over him. If only Snape would wake up….

"Lily… Harry…let him alone, you have no right, not Harry…."

Harry felt his legs crumple beneath him. Snape was dreaming of him. Having a nightmare of someone hurting him. Snape. Him. Even more than the reference to his mother, these last words left him speechless.

The Dementors no longer existed, no more than the dungeon or Voldemort.

Snape's hand closed into a fist, and Harry saw himself take it in his own to open and look at it.

The same hand that had rested on his forehead for hours, as he'd fought for his powers. The hand that had taken care of him.

A moan escaped from Harry's lips, but he didn't know if it was out of despair that the Dementors were seeping into his soul, or out of a relief so huge that it supplanted everything else.

"Professor, please, wake up."

Snape groaned again, but his eyes remained closed.

The fog outside was becoming denser and denser, and was now oozing into the laboratory through the window with the broken pane, lapping at the stone walls of the dungeon.

Harry had to do something now.

 A stag erupted at once, off toward the fog at a gallop, pushing it out of the dungeon before disappearing into the park in the pursuit of Dementors.

Harry felt the oppressive sensation that was gripping him draw back a bit, but the feeling didn't last. He didn't know how many Dementors were gathered outside, but if Voldemort had called them in as reinforcements, he could expect that the entire staff of Azkaban was about to hold its annual conference at the Manor entrance! His Patronus, as successful as it'd been, wouldn't keep them all away for very long.

Indeed, a few minutes later, the fine fog mounted a fresh attack, and Harry felt his throat constrict. Beside him, Snape was restless in his sleep as well.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry cried out again, with more conviction this time.

The reprieve lasted longer than before, but inevitably, the fogginess seeped once again into their hide-out.

An hour and numerous Patronuses later, Harry felt exhausted and close to despair. He wasn't going to be able to do it, there were too many of them, and he was too weak.

But at least he was trying. With a hand that trembled slightly, he lifted the black wand again, and opened his mouth to speak the incantation, but it was a shout that he let out, when he sensed something close suddenly around his fingers.

He quickly turned and then froze, his mouth hanging open. The wand's rightful owner was looking at him, a slight smile on his face, looking more exhausted than ever, but wide awake this time.

"Professor!"

Snape slowly nodded without loosening his grip. He looked up toward the window, trying to get used to the light. "What time is it?" he asked.

Caught off guard, Harry stared at him. Why would the time be important at all? "It's the beginning of the afternoon; it must be two or so," he finally answered.

Snape nodded again. "That's fine."

"Excuse me?" the boy stammered.

"In a few hours, the potion will lose its effect. Everything will be fine," Snape said, his voice strangely calm.

Harry blinked several times, staring at the professor's face.  He didn't know precisely why, since the Dementors' fog was once again threatening to enter the laboratory, but he believed him. Yes, everything would be fine.

Struck with remorse, he cast a guilty look around the room. "I'm so sorry," he said quickly. "Your laboratory. I think I decimated everything."

To Harry's great surprise, Snape laughed softly, almost soundlessly, but a laugh all the same.

"You're not hurt?"

Harry shook his head. "No, when you cast that spell, it was like…I don't know, a green bubble surrounded me, before smashing into the walls. They were green for a moment, but that didn't last, until Dumbledore attacked me and then…"

"Dumbledore?" Snape asked, all trace of humor gone from his face.

"He came a little while after you lost consciousness," Harry explained with an apologetic look. "When I didn't want him to go near you, he cast a spell at me, but it was strange, because it bounced off me and then hit the walls, and they turned green again."

Snape nodded thoughtfully.

"After that," Harry went on, "Madam Pomfrey sent some potions through the Floo. A stockpile of them, but I wasn't sure which I should give you. I, er, I made you drink a healing and stabilization potion, and two Pepperups."

"Perfect. One more wouldn't be too much, I think," Snape said, helping himself to the basket.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked worriedly. "I mean, you'd already taken a lot, before…"

Snape shot him an ironic look, his eyebrow raised.

"Obviously you know better than I," Harry added quickly.

"So it would seem."  The professor's eyes drifted back to the wand that the boy still had a hold of.

Harry felt himself blush, and he held it out to him. "I didn't have anything else handy," he apologized.

Snape took hold of the wand and studied it thoughtfully for a moment. "Were you able to use it?"

Harry answered with a nod.

Without a word, Snape stuck a hand into his robes and pulled out an object, which he then handed to Harry.

His wand.

The boy took it with a smile. "It was there all along?" he asked.

Snape nodded. "Dumbledore found it at the Ministry where it'd been dropped, and I kept it, waiting for you to be in shape to use it."

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling again. "I missed it." Actually, he'd thought it lost. Snape's wand had worked, but it simply wasn't the same thing.

Despite everything, he couldn't help but feel a vague anxiety spread through him. "Professor, I think I need…" He motioned with his head towards the fog creeping progressively into the laboratory.

The professor handed him a potion, and Harry swore inside himself. He should've thought of it earlier; clearly Snape wasn’t the only one who needed a Pepperup.

An instant later, he felt himself calm again when he faced the window. Without a word, Snape came to stand at his side, and graced him with a half-smile that gave Harry even more energy than the potion had.

Together, they lifted their wands and incanted with a single shout.

A moment afterward, a stag and a doe leapt out, shoulder to shoulder, onward toward the park, pushing back the fog and the cold sensation around them.

Harry turned to Snape, and could finally ask the question that he'd so much wanted to ask that day.

"And now?"

Snape nodded toward the bed. "Now, we wait."

Comfortably situated on the mattress, safe from the Dementors, the two wizards remained silent for a moment, surveying the laboratory.

With a few incantations, Snape had cleaned and repaired most of the damage, and the dungeon once again resembled a potentially inhabitable room.

"Professor," Harry said at last, "the spell that showed my magical aura disappeared, and I'm wondering where my powers are?"

Pointing his wand at Harry, Severus murmured the incantation again. Both of them were silent for a moment, in face of the color emanating from the younger wizard.

"Is…is that a good sign?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"It's impressive, to say the least," Snape replied. "You've probably depleted the Dark Lord's principal magical reserves. At his highest potential, his own aura would be black. The mauve around you is very close to that."

"Do you think I could finish him off before the potion loses effect?" asked the boy.

"Probably not. As I told you, to completely tear away a wizard's last bit of magic requires considerable energy. Voldemort could do it, but it'd be too dangerous for you in the state you're in," Severus explained.

"But…" Harry tried.

'"But you've done excellent work. It will take him some time to regain all his strength again."

"I don't understand why he's staying there instead of going away," murmured the boy. "I don't think I'd be able to take his powers if he were far away."

"At the beginning, he most likely stayed because he thought he could recover them. When it was your Patronus that went on the attack against the Dementors, he probably understood that I wasn't in any shape to fight, and he thought he could reverse the situation. A mistake, obviously," Snape said with satisfaction. "And now…"

"You think he's left?" asked Harry, full of hope. He'd actually felt lighthearted for the past several moments.

"The Dementors couldn't come onto the property, in any case, and our two Patronuses were sufficient to scatter them far enough to lesson their influence. They no longer have any interest in staying. On the other hand, I'm ready to wager that a good number of the Death Eaters are on the lookout nearby."

Harry allowed himself a smile. Because they were safe, weren't they? They'd done it. Really.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by peaceably, Snape seeming to clearly have trouble getting his strength back, and preferring to sit in his armchair as he questioned Harry on his classes…making him put the repaired phials in order.

Wand in hand, the boy obeyed, as he carefully avoided thinking of anything else. When the sun was just about to set, he'd almost forgotten his nervousness and how anxious the day had made him.

He was placing a series of bottles in the cupboard when he felt his muscles stiffen all of a sudden, before relaxing, his legs suddenly weak as jelly. Falling to the floor, he felt every fiber of his body begin to glow, as if charged with electricity, before subsiding, leaving him feeling more peaceful and whole than he had in days.

The storm that had never really abated in his head finally stopped, and his entire body seemed to synch into place, like a completed puzzle.

Snape came to him, and Harry took the hand he held down to help him up. "What happened?" he asked.

"The potion no longer has any effect. Your powers are back in place, and won't be moved again. Or I should say, rather, your new powers," Snape replied.

"They'll really stay. His powers, I mean?"

"Yes," Snape agreed. "You've probably just doubled your own magical level. It's something that will take some time for you to master, though. You've just managed a most singular feat. Harry. I think Voldemort will think twice before he attempts an attack of this sort on you in the future!"

"But his powers?" the boy insisted.

"His magical level is low right now, but it's just a sort of temporary depletion. He'll get it back with time and care. The change in you, on the other hand, is permanent. What I don't know is what effect these new powers will have on you; we'll have to keep a careful watch on that."

"If only I'd had these powers before," Harry murmured. "If only I could've done something."

"What you've done is already extraordinary, Harry; you don't seem to realize this," Snape said with a frown.

"But it's far too late, now that they're all dead. I could've saved them, if only…."

Severus grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and forced Harry to look at him, putting as much conviction into his words as he could. "Harry, listen to me well this time: all that you saw during your captivity never happened; no one wants to get rid of you, and no one is dead!"

But as the boy stared at him, troubled and mournful, a burst of green flames illuminated the dungeon; Dumbledore's head and chest appeared in the fireplace.

As Severus instinctively took hold of the boy's shoulder, his first thought was, 'Merlin, don't let it be the Weasleys, or Lupin, or anyone whom Harry considers his family!'

His next thought was expressed aloud, and in a much more accusatory tone than he would've liked. "Is this really the time, Albus?"

The headmaster sighed as he took a step forward into the dungeon.  Right away, Harry leapt backward, his wand in his hand in the space of a second, pointed at the old wizard.

"Harry!" Snape growled, surprised by his reaction.  Obviously, the boy's belligerent side once again had the upper hand.

"I warned you not to come back!"  Harry grumbled without dropping his guard.

"There's a good reason why the Headmaster is the only one able to enter without invitation," Snape said dryly.  "I trust him completely, and he's welcome here.  I bit of decorum, Harry, put your wand away immediately!  I will not tolerate my guests being treated in this manner!"

Harry blushed slightly and lowered his wand, although he kept it in his hand.

Snape nodded at him approvingly, then turned to Dumbledore. "I'd appreciate it if you kept your distance," he said curtly.

The Headmaster raised a conciliatory hand.  "Harry, I deeply regret what happened yesterday.  The situation, as well as Professor Snape's condition, spurred me on to handle things in a highly inappropriate fashion, and I'm afraid I reacted in the very worst way. I beg you to accept my apology.  I'm glad to see you're doing better, Severus."

Snape nodded, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye.  "Might I know precisely what went on between the two of you?  I hardly appreciate having to play the arbitrator," the Potions master said coldly, before sudden realization struck; this was probably how the Headmaster had felt all those years, when Snape and Potter were continually at one another's throats.  He suddenly felt a rush of sympathy for the old man.

Perhaps the old wizard's patience and endurance were in keeping with his reputation after all.

"Perhaps we could settle in a bit more comfortably," Dumbledore suggested.  "It appears there are several things that must be discussed."

"In the sitting room," Severus said as he gestured to the stairway.

The three of them headed for the heavy wooden door, the Headmaster leading the way.  Snape wisely insinuated himself between Dumbledore and Harry, giving the latter a warning look in passing as they started up the stairway.  Harry made a face, but followed them.  He was going to be well-mannered, yes, but if Dumbledore dared to try anything…Harry was going to quickly demonstrate his quick reflexes!

Severus had apparently not been mistaken; short of having done serious damage, the storm had broken several window panes, and the debris of glass and broken things littered the sitting room floor.

Harry thoughtfully realized that he'd never before had the occasion to spend time in this room…everything really centered around the dungeon, evidently.  The sitting room was somberly but tastefully furnished in a rather impersonal style, compared to the Dursleys, or most other families.

But clearly Snape didn't have family, did he?  None that Harry knew about anyway.  None worth hanging a photograph on the wall, not a single useless knick-knack given by friends or an elderly aunt. Actually, the furniture almost seemed as if it'd never been used.

Now that he thought about it, that was probably the case.

The master of the dwelling murmured a few incantations, and the sitting room's tidy appearance was restored.  With a gesture, he pointed the Headmaster to a chair, before casting a soothing look at Harry.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry sat nervously in the armchair farthest away from the Headmaster, his wand still in his hand.

"Does the news require that I break out a bottle of firewhisky?" Snape asked when everyone was settled in.

"That would hardly be reasonable," Dumbledore sighed. "We're going to need every bit of our clear-mindedness for this conversation, I’m afraid."

Without a word, Snap went to sit at Harry's side.

"Is it necessary to draw out the suspense any longer, Albus?" Snape asked.

"Actually, a bit of context would be rather helpful.  Perhaps we might review the events of the past three days?"

Snape groaned, but waved a hand for him to continue.

Dumbledore turned and calmly looked at Harry. 

How had these kind blue eyes been able to show so much contempt and cruelty that day in his office? Harry wondered, ill at ease.  It was almost fascinating…

Harry blinked, suddenly aware of having stared at the Headmaster for what had to be a long moment.  The old man hadn't budged, continuing to scrutinize him with those gentle and reassuring eyes that had often calmed Harry.

Not today, though.  Harry turned nervously to Snape, who was watching him as well, motionless.  The nod Snape gave him was almost imperceptible, but Harry caught it, if only for the fact that the man was on his guard, ready to jump up at any moment, whether to protect him or keep him from making a move he'd regret.

The boy relaxed noticeably, and answered him with a slight movement of his chin, before turning to Dumbledore again.  He'd never thought to see the day where he'd count on Snape to protect him from the Headmaster.

The sparkling in the Headmaster's eyes was completely familiar this time, with something like mirth and a certain satisfaction…

And a gleam that annoyed Harry. Did the Headmaster find the situation funny?  Well, he didn't.  Really, he didn't.

Dumbledore must've noticed something, because in his most serious voice, he began to speak again.  "Harry, do you remember your return to Hogwarts?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, stopped in his tracks.  Which one?  The one when Dumbledore and McGonagall had attacked him, or the one when Snape had protected him?  Because that was indeed the question.

But the professor had told him that none of that had really happened. Still, he could remember it perfectly….. Curling up slightly in his chair, Harry let out a noncommittal groan.

"Professor Snape took you back to the castle, and Madam Pomfrey tried to heal you the best she could.  Unfortunately, the situation became more complicated when Voldemort and the Death Eaters surrounded the castle.  The Ministry's emissaries were expected the next day, and it would've been unwise to keep you at Hogwarts, so Professor Snape proposed to bring you here.  Do you remember that visit to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Not really," the boy replied. "I remember you were there, both of you, and waking up for a moment…hmmm.  I knew it wasn't here, but I didn't recognize Hogwarts."

Dumbledore nodded understandingly.  "It appeared that Voldemort was continuing to steal your powers.  At that time, he was on guard in the Forbidden Forest, and we thought distance would keep him from carrying on.  Was that indeed the case?" the Headmaster asked, turning to Snape this time.

"We had no chance to find that out.  Riddle quickly followed us here," the Potions master answered.

"That's exactly what was reported," Dumbledore murmured.  "What I don't know is how Voldemort was able to locate you so quickly."

"Most likely due to the connection between his and Harry's minds, reinforced by the Theft of Magic potion.  Thanks to that, he sensed that Harry was at Hogwarts, and would've detected his absence in the same way.  I presume he made a quick trip to the Burrow and Privet Drive before coming here."

"Actually," Dumbledore said, "the Death Eaters were spotted near the Burrow.  So, that's how Voldemort was able to sense your magic in spite of the Fidelius charm.  I assume he didn't succeed in getting what he wanted?"

"He tried," Snape said irritably. "But Harry reversed the process and captured the Dark Lord's powers before the potion stopped working.  Voldemort will regroup, but it will take him a while to regain his normal level of magic.  As for Harry, he's increased in strength, quite clearly."

The little note of pride in his voice didn't escape Dumbledore's notice, who stayed silent for a moment, considering this news.  It would appear that this was a turn of events that the Headmaster hadn't foreseen, something else that would also have to be dealt with…

"Severus, when I came to see you last night to bring you the latest news, you were unconscious, although in good keeping, I must admit.  Alastor reported to me that a cadre of Death Eaters had formed in the vicinity of your Manor. Is there a relation between the two?"

"Hardly.  The Dementors were there to support Voldemort's efforts to steal Mister Potter's magic.  They couldn't enter the property, but their magic was strong enough to reach us, given their numbers.  However, my condition was a different matter altogether.  Harry reversed the magic-stealing process and took back both his own and Riddle's, but he needed my strength as well to do that," Snape explained.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry startle in his armchair. 

"Your strength?" Harry asked, his voice choked.

Snape sighed.  Best to get it over with right away.  "Harry, the powers you were absorbing were truly those of Voldemort.  But he'd also stolen your strength, and you took it back where you were able to find it.  As I was the person closest to you physically, it was mine you drained."

Harry paled at these words. "That's why you were so tired; I thought it was Voldemort attacking your through the Mark.  I didn't know…you should've have let me…"

"It was important.  And a good thing, in any case," Snape said, looking directly into his eyes.  "I did it completely willingly, Harry, you have nothing to reproach yourself for.  I didn't even give you a choice."

The boy didn't answer, but pressed himself a bit more deeply into the armchair.

"So that most likely explains the phenomenon that occurred when I wanted to disarm Harry," Dumbledore continued.

"Meaning?" Snape asked as he narrowed his eyes.

"I regret to say that I made a very unfortunate move against Harry when I arrived at the Manor last night.  Harry, you were very hostile towards me, and you refused to let me near Severus to examine him.  I thought it necessary to force things by casting an Expelliarmus at you, a mistaken decision in every way.  The spell bounced off you without effect, and the walls responded in a characteristic fashion…for sacrificial magic."

His statement was met with silence.

"You surely shouldn't have attacked Harry," Snape finally replied. "But it's good to know that the spell reacted to the slightest threat."

"Protego," Harry murmured.  "That's what you cast.  But why?  How?  I mean, that isn't supposed to…I don't understand."

Snape let out a resigned groan. "When you found yourself in danger after making the glass in the laboratory explode, I no longer had enough strength to protect you adequately. That's why I cast that incantation, so that it would be useful in a different way, by sacrificing my strength and my magic.  It's an ancient magic, which has already been proven.  It's now tied to the walls that sealed the sacrifice, and to you, whatever attack you find yourself the victim of."

"You could've died," Harry murmured.

"No need to be melodramatic, Potter.  I'm here and fully alive, as you can see.  This spell was but a weak replica of the one that'd already saved your life."

"But it was a possibility, wasn't it?" Harry insisted.

"That's the idea behind a sacrifice, yes.  Everything, to the very end, whatever the price.  But there was little chance of that really happening…"

The boy stared at him, his eyes wide, and Severus noticed that his hands were shaking on the arm of the chair.  He was getting ready to reassure him, when Dumbledore cleared his throat to speak again.

"And it's fortunate thing, Severus.  I'm very grateful to you for your devotion.  I must confess that I didn't in any way expect this possibility.  Unfortunately, this new battle has already brought about some deaths."

Count on Albus to raise the troops' morale! Snape thought.  Before he realized….

"Deaths? Plural?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "As I told you earlier, the Death Eaters indeed went to the Burrow.  The Weasley family was there, as well as Tonks and Alastor.  After a brief confrontation, they were withdrawn, without causing any casualties.

"They gathered around Hogwarts as well, Grimmauld Place, Snape Manor and Privet Drive.  The Dursleys had refused Ministry protection, believing themselves protected by their new ally, but Kingsley was tasked with posting a guard in the likely event of a reversal in the situation.  When the group of Death Eaters reformed at the Manor, however, he judged that there was no longer any reason to fear for their safety."

Harry had paled even more, if that were possible, and Snape arose silently to go and stand behind his armchair, his hands on Harry's shoulders.  The boy didn't even seem to notice, his eyes fixed on the Headmaster.

"He was wrong," Dumbledore finished with a sigh. "Voldemort seems to have decided that the Dursleys hadn't fulfill their part of the bargain by handing you over to him. I'm sorry, Harry, all three of them are dead."

Snape's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders, as a long moan escaped from the boy's lips.

Good, at least one thing that I'll not have to do, the Potions master thought at first.  But of course, he was wrong. The Durseleys' deaths would only reinforce Harry's sense of guilt, and that was going to complicate his task considerably.

It was a shame: the one time that Voldemort decided to make himself useful, really.

Wordlessly, Snape sat on the arm of the chair, without letting go of Harry, who was now wracked with nervous trembling.

"How?" the boy finally asked.

"Avada Kedavra," Dumbledore replied. "They didn't suffer…"

"How could you know that?" Harry hissed between his teeth. "Maybe he tortured them beforehand!"

"I doubt it."

"They'd not done a thing to him!  He had no reason to do that…this…this…"

Snape was rather of the opposite opinion, but he kept himself from saying it.  "I deduce from this that the question of my Harry kidnapping has been sorted out?" he asked.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed.  "The Ministry concluded, in all urgency, given the situation, that Harry had been taken in by you after he'd run away, and not kidnapped, and that he couldn't be returned to his family for obvious reasons of security."

"So you still have enough influence at the Ministry to carry that out, Albus?" Snape asked skeptically.

"That and then some, my boy.  Because the demise of the Dursleys raises a new problem, that of Harry's guardianship."

Harry let out a small gasp.  "Why?  No, I don't want to go back there."

Dumbledore shot him a compassionate look.  "No, Harry, you will not go back there.  That's finished now. They won't be able to do anything else to you."

"But you want me to go there!  I know it!  Vernon told me you asked him to!"

"I'm not sure I understand…" Dumbledore began, before being interrupted by Snape.

"They're dead, Harry," he said calmly. "Your uncle, your aunt and your cousin.  You'll never see them again. They can't do anything to you.  But you're still not of age, and you must be placed under someone's guardianship.  That's what the Headmaster is trying to tell you."

Harry looked at him, dazed. 

Snape had never claimed to be an expert in psychology, but he would've hoped better of the old man…obviously, he must've been as worn out as Snape by the days they'd just gone through.

"The burial?" Harry suddenly asked.

"It took place yesterday," Dumbledore said gently.

"I should've been there…"

"That was impossible and you know it," Snape said, gently kneading his shoulder.  "You'll go to see their graves as soon as it's safe, if you wish."

Once again, the boy let out a long moan.  "Yes…but before…I have to go see the…"

Snape sighed.  He'd expected it, but he would've preferred to put it off until later. "Albus, how are the Weasleys faring?"

If the Headmaster was surprised by the question, he didn't show a thing.  "Very well, thank you.  Arthur and Molly are at the Burrow with the children, and Miss Granger has joined them there.  They're a bit shaken up by recent events, but anxious to see you again, Harry."

But Harry didn't appear to have heard him, sunken deep in his chair, his eyes vacant.

"They offered to watch over you, Harry…unfortunately, that wouldn't have been wise, for reasons of security."

"And who, then, is Mister Potter's new legal guardian?" Snape asked, annoyed by the suspense.

"It's only a matter of temporary guardianship, while waiting for everything to be sorted out and until the Ministry representatives are able to meet with Harry.  The Ministry wanted the Minister himself to take responsibility for Harry, but I was able to convince them to change their minds, and to confide this charge to me."

Harry sat up in his chair, all his muscles tensed, searching the Headmaster's eyes.

"Until further notice, I'm your guardian, Harry!" he said enthusiastically.

"No!" Harry jumped to his feet this time. "No, no, no!"

"Harry, calm yourself…' Snape began.

"I want to go back downstairs, please!" the boy urged, his eyes flashing.

"Harry…."

"Please, there's too much light…"

Severus motioned with his head, and the boy took off at a run for the hallway.  An instant later, a door slammed, and the two wizards looked at each other.

"I must say I didn't expect that reaction," stated Dumbledore, who'd also risen to his feet. "Must I conclude from this that Harry does indeed hold something against me?"

"It's not as complicated as all that," Snape answered. "Harry is persuaded he experienced, saw and heard certain things, and he is still too weak, too upset to accept that these episodes were all only acts designed to break him."

"Lucius Malfoy, I presume?" Dumbledore sighed.

Snape nodded slowly.  "As far as Harry's concerned, you hate him.  You struck him, you put him under Cruciatus, and sent him back to the Dursleys, if I correctly understood the scenario that Lucius and his acolytes concocted for him.  I only know part of it…but Harry is persuaded that he really lived those scenes."

"And I just told him I've obtained his guardianship…"the Headmaster murmured.

"Actually, I don't think it reasonable to expect the news would make him jump with joy.  Oh, you'd best alert Minerva of having been your accomplice in this little torture scene that Harry suffered at your hands."

Severus thought he saw the Headmaster wince.  What he was certain of, on the other hand, was that the old wizard's face seemed paler and more aged than usual.

"Best to find Harry and explain the situation to him more clearly," the Potions master suggested.  "To set aside one final doubt…were there other victims in the course of these last confrontations?"

"No, everything was concentrated around the Burrow and Privet Drive, and Snape Manor, of course.  There were no wounded, other than the Dursleys."

"Perfect.  Before we go down…  Harry is convinced that the Weasleys were killed, as well as Tonks, Remus, and the whole of the Order.  Because of him, of course," Snape said casually.  "By chance, it would seem that Lucius and Bellatrix's imaginations spared me."

"Harry appeared very possessive and protective of you, Severus.  When I came to visit you last evening," Dumbledore said softly.

Was that a note of regret, or perhaps envy, that the Potions master detected in the Headmaster's voice?

"He thinks I'm the only person he has left," Snape admitted. "A misconception he'll have to correct soon.  Until then, I suppose he's entrusted his need for safety to myself."

"Perhaps, perhaps," the old wizard murmured.

"If you'll follow me," Snape grumbled with a gesture towards the door.

They returned to the dungeon in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing heavily in the stairwell.

Severus expected to find the boy once again in his cat form, or perhaps throwing things against the walls, as seemed to be his habit.  But when he saw Harry, he felt his chest constrict painfully.

The teenager had taken refuge in his armchair, hunched over with his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth without seeming to be able to stop.  Even from where he was, Severus could see he was trembling.

Soundlessly, he went to sit on the arm of the chair, and carefully wrapped him in his arms.  "I won't leave you, Harry.  Everything will be fine."

The boy didn't answer, but allowed himself to be held by the professor.  Automatically, Snape put his hand on the boy's forehead and pulled him against himself.

In his turn, Dumbledore went to the fireplace just opposite them, his demeanor more humble than ever.  "Harry, I'm sorry to have upset you that way. I never intended to take you from Professor Snape's protection, not even before knowing that sacrificial magic was protecting you here.  The guardianship I obtained is purely administrative; I just had to exert my influence so there wouldn't be any question.  The professor's reputation as a Death Eater would've unfortunately not allowed that to be done directly."

Harry turned his eyes, at once confused and gleaming, toward the Headmaster.  "You wanted for him to make me pay, isn't that true?" he said through his teeth.

"Harry?" asked the Headmaster.

"You wanted me to pay for what I did. But he won't do it.  He's not like Uncle Vernon…."

"I don't doubt that for a moment, Harry.  If I entrusted you to Professor Snape's keeping, it's precisely because he seemed the person best qualified to protect you.  There's nothing anywhere in my intention to make you unhappy…even if I confess I'm curious to understand from where this assumption came?"

"I would never be sorry enough, would I?  That's what you said. But I am. I have regrets. About everything—my parents, Sirius, the Weasleys, and now the Dursleys.  I'm truly sorry, but I can't ask for forgiveness.  Not from you.  It's them that I should…but I can't…they're dead."  The boy's voice broke as he buried his face in the professor's robes.

The two wizards couldn't look away from the trembling teenager, even under the shock of the words they'd just heard.

When Snape had gathered enough courage to put his hands on Harry's shoulders and force the boy to look at him, he was just about certain that his own hands were shaking slightly.

"Harry, do you remember what I told you about all of this?  Lucius Malfoy, that room at his disposal in the dungeon?  None of that was real, Harry.  The Weasleys are alive, and you'll be able to see them in a few days at Hogwarts.  And the Headmaster never asked you…to ask for forgiveness, for Merlin's sake!  I was with you the entire time, you remember?  Can you truly imagine Professor Dumbledore casting a Cruciatus at you?"

The boy stared at him anxiously and confusedly.  Severus could've sworn that it was a boy of nine he had before him.

"Come now, Harry, you know perfectly well that it's impossible.  If you had to imagine someone treating you this way, it would be me, wouldn't it?  Your abominable Potions professor.  Not the Headmaster, who's continually protected you and covered for those catastrophes you've regularly brought upon yourself since you came to Hogwarts.  As for McGonagall, she'd be ready to dance a tango on the table in the Great Hall, just to create a diversion if someone sought to punish you, even rightfully.  And believe me, I'm in a position to know it, Harry, nothing's changed…not in that regard, in any case.  I'm always here for you, but I'm not the only one.  No one's betrayed you, other than the Dursleys, and they've paid a high price for their betrayal."

The boy was still watching him uncertainly.

A flash of panic shot through Harry's eyes, but a familiar hand came to rest on his forehead; he felt his entire body relax.  He could do it.  Slowly, he turned his head to face the Headmaster, who was sitting on the bed, on the other side of the fireplace.  He'd rarely appeared so fragile, Harry thought…almost vulnerable, and so old, with his long white beard and wrinkles around his eyes…eyes that seemed to be almost begging right now.

"It is I who asks for your forgiveness, Harry," the Headmaster said softly.

"I've made some deplorable decisions concerning you, from the day I entrusted you to your family, after the death of your parents. I can only understand that you're angry with me, and that the last thing you want in the world is to find yourself in my keeping.

"However, Harry, I want you to be convinced of one thing: I never sought to do you harm in any way; all my mistakes were made as I tried to do what seemed best for you. It would appear that in this mission, I've failed you terribly…and I can't help but be glad that you've found a more reliable and efficient protector than I was able to be," he finished with a look at Severus.

"Even though decisions concerning you are officially my responsibility now, I promise to not make a one that hasn't been approved by Professor Snape and yourself.  It seems clear that your place is here, especially now that sacrificial magic has been established within these walls.  The beginning of term is only two days away, but I don't intend on changing things at Hogwarts, be assured.  You will in no way be forced to deal with me. Professor Snape will take care of the formalities, if you're both in agreement on this point."

Snape could sense the Headmaster's tone become more desperate as his speech went on, in face of the lack of a reaction from Harry.

The boy was now no longer trembling, but he was still tense.  Discreetly, Snape ran his hand over Harry's back, who turned toward him, his eyes vacant.

"What do you think?" he asked the boy.

An incomprehensible groan was his answer.

"Harry?" he insisted.

"I don't know," Harry murmured. "I believe you…but what happened in the office…  It was so real to me.  I don't know anymore.  I'm sorry."

"I understand," Dumbledore agreed kindly.  "Tell me, do you have reason to believe that this scene here, in the laboratory of Snape Manor, could also be an illusion?"

"No, of course not, I know you're really here, that you're really saying what you're saying, but…"  He shrugged. "I don't know anymore what I should believe. Or think."

"In that case," the Headmaster continued, "I perhaps see a solution.  Severus, do you have a dose of Veritaserum left?"

Harry sensed the Potions master stiffen, as he himself froze, his mind suddenly refusing to work.  Veritaserum?  The Headmaster would agree to take it to reassure Harry of his intentions?  Now he understood better the question he'd just asked him, if he realized that he wasn't in a dream now, so he'd have all the proof he wanted….

The professor's voice broke into his thoughts.

"No.  All the potions I kept here were destroyed last night."

Harry felt himself blush.  Most of the potions he'd destroyed had probably been valuable, not to mention the ingredients.  Snape hadn't had the chance to scold him for it, but Harry'd catch it, sooner or later!

"In your office at Hogwarts, perhaps?" Dumbledore suggested.

Snape nodded reluctantly. 

"Would it bother you to go and bring me back a dose?" the Headmaster asked politely.

"Is that truly necessary?"

The Headmaster responded with a confidant smile, as he turned to the teenager still pulled in close to Snape.  Harry's face had flushed crimson, but he looked up when he felt Severus' eyes on him; the Potions master could read the boy's answer there, as clearly as if it'd been spoken aloud.

Yes.

Clenching his jaw, Snape got up and took a handful of Floo powder, which he then threw into the grate.  "I'll be back in a moment," he said with a reassuring look for Harry, and a more pointed one for Dumbledore.  Announcing his destination, he disappeared in the green flames.

At the same instant, Harry felt his heart pound in his chest. He was here alone with Dumbledore.  Should he really trust him, or was he going to try and attack him again?

But no, he suddenly remembered.  He was protected here, no one could attack him, thanks to Snape and the spell he'd cast to protect him.

Once again, someone had sacrificed themselves for him…and if Snape hadn't survived?  Harry shuddered.  He wanted Snape to come back, there, now, he wanted to be sure the man was all right.  What proof was there that there weren't any more Death Eaters at Hogwarts?  Or some other sort of ambush…

Harry felt his breathing become more rapid as he panicked, and shot a quick look at the Headmaster.  No, he hadn't budged, or made the slightest move for his wand.  But conversely, what if he were waiting to be sure that Snape was really dead, and that the wards were falling?  What if…

The green flames crackled once again in the fireplace, and the Potions master stepped out into the dungeon, a flask in his hand.

One look at Harry sufficed for him to understand that his fears had not been unfounded.  The boy's breathing was ragged, and he was paler than ever, his fingers clenched on the arm of the chair.

He should've told Dumbledore to go himself for his bloody potion, he swore to himself.

"Albus, could you leave us alone for a moment?"

"Certainly, certainly," the Headmaster replied hastily, before taking the steps up to the park.

As soon as the door had shut, Severus leant toward the boy and forced him to stand, then pulled him against himself, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.  Desperate situations called for desperate measures.  The potion was no longer working, of course, but he would've liked to be able to transfer some of his strength, or at the very least make him understand that he had nothing to fear.

He'd barely embraced the boy, when Harry started to shake again, clinging desperately to Snape's robes.

"I don't want you to leave," he said hoarsely. "You have no right to die.  Not now…"

Oh Merlin. Die?  Because he'd disappeared for scarcely a few minutes?

"Harry, that's completely irrational.  You heard me give the destination for my office, I was at Hogwarts. I was only gone a few moments, and I wasn't in any danger, nor were you!"

"But you almost died, throwing that spell yesterday!  Everyone dies, and I don't want … I hardly know you, and…."

Unable to finish the sentence, Harry allowed his whole body to relax, his forehead pressed against the professor's chest.  "I can't do it anymore.  Please."

At that precise instant, it seemed to Severus that once again the world had tilted slightly on its axis.  Even more…a bit to the right…  But it wasn't a somber revelation this time.  The room seemed all of a sudden a bit larger, a bit brighter, and the boy who'd surrendered himself to him was neither James Potter's son, nor Lily's, but just a child at the end of himself, who desperately needed someone.  Him.

It was just Harry.  Not the Boy Who Lived, not Shadow, not Potter…but Harry.

And Snape was going to do the right thing.  Yes, he was going to accept what the boy was offering him—his destiny, his responsibility…and he wasn't going to do it so he could be forgiven or some other such thing, or for a cause, or for a memory. He would do it for Harry.

His Harry.

It was no longer only the world that had changed, he suddenly realized, but himself.  After having taking his turns at Death Eater, spy, professor and Head of Slytherin, Severus had never expected to one day be surprised at himself.

He'd been wrong.  And for once, he suspected that that this chance would not be a cause for bitterness.

"If you'd like to rest, Harry, you're free to do so," he said, his voice steady.  "But if you feel able, I think it'd be wise to accept the Headmaster's offer.  I'll stay with you the entire time.  This infernal dilemma must be dealt with once and for all; the quicker you have a clear idea of things, the quicker you'll be able to get back on your feet."

The boy nodded, then turned toward the window.  Snape transfigured the bed back into an armchair, then went out in search of the Headmaster, who was calmly observing the park.

"You're settled in here nicely, Severus.  I understand why Harry felt comfortable here."

"Do what you have in mind, old man.  But if you have the slightest doubt over whether your revelations might hurt Harry…then abstain.  I have no intention of watching one of your dubious strategies ruin his equilibrium once again!"

There it was again, that little sparkle of amusement in the Headmaster's eyes, which didn't fail to exasperate the professor. 

"Have no fear, Severus.  I ask only that you trust me again this time."

With a skeptical snort, Snape opened the door to allow Dumbledore to enter, then both of them proceeded to the dungeon.  Harry was waiting for them, clearly nervous as the Headmaster took his armchair.

"Harry, can I ask you to promise me not to ask any questions having to do with the Order, or any others, except for those that concern our subject at hand?"

Without looking away, Harry nodded slowly.

"Good.  I trust you completely, my boy. Severus, administer the potion, if you please?" he asked courteously.

Snape handed him the flask, and the Headmaster swallowed it down without hesitation.  His eyes suddenly became vacant, and the Potions master signaled to Harry with his head.

The boy paused for a second, then pressed his lips together.  "He won't remember anything, will he?"

Severus shook his head to signal that he wouldn't.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began, "Did you ever cast a Cruciatus at me?"

"Never," answered the Headmaster calmly and neutrally.

It seemed to Harry as if a weight had just left his chest.  He could've stopped there, really, but…

"Did you hit me?"

"No."

"Did you try to have me sent back to the Dursleys this summer?"

"I would've, if Severus hadn't warned me of how badly they were treating you there.  After that, I definitely gave up the idea."

Harry let out a long sigh. But now that he'd started, the questions churned in his mind.  "Why did you leave me with the Dursleys to begin with?"

"Because they were your family, and because the wards would protect you."

"You really didn't know they hated me?"

"I knew they didn't appreciate you presence there, but I didn't know the extent of their animosity."

So that was it? Harry thought.  Because of stupid presumptions, his childhood had been irrevocably spoiled…for nothing?

"Did I disappoint you?" he asked, before even forming the question in his mind.

"No, never," came the firm reply.

Harry was silent for a moment.  He probably should've started with that question, because the weight in his chest was replaced with a gentle warmth.

"Why did you leave me with Snape?" he continued, as he avoided looking at the professor.

"Because he was the most qualified to protect you, and I was hoping that your relationship would profit from it."

"Are you really going to allow the professor to make the decisions about me?"

"Certainly."

"Do you…"  Do you think of me as a weapon, or do you have my best interests at heart? he'd meant to say.  But he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.  Not here, in any case, and not now.

Shaking his head, he turned to Snape.  "Do you have questions?"

Severus seemed disconcerted for a moment, then stared thoughtfully at the Headmaster.

"Do you intend to give me carte blanche with Harry, or do you plan on exercising your right if things don't turn out as you'd like?"

"I'd only do that as a last resort, but I wouldn't hesitate if the situation required it."

Snape digested the answer for an instant, then turned to Harry. "Could you leave for a moment, please?"

The boy looked at him questioningly, but headed without a word for the stairway to the upper storey.

Severus waited a few moments, then moved to face the Headmaster. He only had time for a single question, but it was going to put it to good use.  "Albus, would you support me if I applied to adopt Harry Potter?"

It took a second for the answer to come.

"Yes."

Stretched out on his bed, Harry watched the shadows play on the ceiling of his room. This day had been truly bizarre…but come to think of it, what was a normal day supposed to be like?

Voldemort attacking, Snape flirting with death, Dumbledore announcing a new catastrophe, and himself in the midst of it all, trying to cope.

All in the space of twenty-four hours. Snape was now sleeping in his room on the other side of the hallway, and Harry was fairly certain that he had to be experiencing the soundest of sleeps, if only because of the sleep potion that Dumbledore had poured into the professor's cup.

To Harry's surprise, Snape hadn't protested. He'd given him a long, thoughtful look, to which the boy had responded with a smile, affirming that, for his part, he intended to sleep non-stop through the last two days of the hols.

He didn't really believe that, but he'd had the sudden intuition that Snape wouldn't agree to rest as long as Harry didn't feel safe.

Which he did, he supposed. He'd even managed to not grit his teeth when Dumbledore had offered to keep guard while they rested.

All right, he really wanted to believe that the Headmaster didn't actually mean him any harm, but to fall asleep there, Snape out of commission in his room, with Dumbledore just a few feet away, reading in the sitting room?

Not a chance. Not after what'd happened. An illusion, certainly, but a very realistic and painful one. He wasn't ready yet.

He'd managed, though, to put on a good face, good enough at least to convince Snape to swallow the potion down in a single gulp and close himself up in his room, with the promise he'd be awakened for the slightest problem. And if the long, pointed look he'd received were any indication, the Potions master was thinking more of a likely Potter crisis than a Death Eater attack.

But no, he certainly wasn't going to let Snape stay up because of him. Merlin, one look at the professor was enough to realize that he was at the end of himself, not only physically, but mentally. Those circles under his eyes….

Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He was the only one responsible for those…and not only because Snape had tried to defend him; Harry'd outright drained the man of his strength, willingly, without scruples, without taking time to question what he was doing.

And despite it all, Snape had tried to protect Harry by sacrificing himself. His strength and his magic…two things that were most likely as precious to the professor as his very life.

Harry felt his heart constrict, but in a less unpleasant way than he'd've expected. A bit of guilt, yes, but especially…an undeniable and comforting warmth that made him want to curl up in the duvet despite the heat.

He felt good. Comfortable. It was totally absurd, people were dead and…oh. The Dursleys.

All of a sudden nervous, he went to the window to look out at the park. Would he end up imagining he saw them too, in the street, somewhere, maybe in a Muggle store? Or watching the telly….

The setting seemed right, but the faces were blurred. He'd seen them just a few days ago, though, but it felt like years had gone by since then. Forget them? Was that possible? He didn't even have a photo of them…  Anyway, why would he've wanted one?

Vernon was a horrible pig, yes, and he'd enjoyed putting Harry in his place, or rather the one he'd picked out for him. As for Petunia, she'd probably sold out to Voldemort, indifferent to his fate, like she had been when Vernon lit into him.

And Dudley…oh, Dudley was Dudley.

But they'd not asked for anything, and certainly not for Harry in their lives, and now, they were dead because of him. He couldn't even manage to be sad, not really, not like he should've been. Was it really so horrible for him to feel relieved?

No more cupboard. No more Privet Drive. No more lashes with the belt, or scoldings, or disgusted looks…not from them anyway. His family. The only one he would have, if he didn't count the Weasleys. They'd been there for him, of course, and he'd felt more accepted by them than he'd ever felt at the Dursleys'.

But the Weasleys made up a complete family, which had grown and taken shape over the course of years and births, and despite all the affection they could show him, Harry would always remain a sort of adopted cousin in a family that was already full to overflowing.

One day, perhaps, he'd start his own…but for now, that idea was especially scary and far off. Merlin, he still couldn't see to his own protection!

Outside, the wind was playing in the trees, and Harry was seized by a sudden whim to transform into the cat and climb up to the highest branch, up to the sky, up toward the sun.

Harry winced. No, what he wanted was to stay in the dungeon, away from the light, there where nothing could happen to him…nothing worse, anyway.

He was so tired…he'd've gladly been in Snape's place, snoring peacefully in his bed.

Hmmm, was it really possible that Snape snored? There was something about the idea that was strangely bizarre, but with a nose like that…oh all right, that was probably a bit disrespectful on his part.

Whatever the case, snoring or not, he'd have been more likely to sleep, with Snape beside him. It was probably childish, but the notion of the professor not being there to reassure him if he had a nightmare made him anxious.

It wasn't as if Snape had coming running each and every time he'd had a bad dream, but Harry still had this impression of a protective and caring presence that'd he'd just recently begun to associate with the professor.

And with all that he'd been through…he didn't have the courage yet to face a restless, sleepless night. Of course he needed sleep, and Snape did too, but he was fairly certain that the Potions master wouldn't be cross with him if…hmmm. Maybe he would, on second thought. He was taking a risk, but he'd face the consequences after he was rested and had a clear enough mind to figure out an excuse.

Without making a sound, he opened the door to his room. No one in sight…  Dumbledore must be keeping guard in the sitting room at the end of the hallway. Harry softly closed the door behind him, and an instant later, a black cat crossed the hallway and jumped agilely at the doorknob of the door opposite. With a bump of his head, he pushed the door far enough open to slip into the room. He pushed it shut behind him, applying all of his weight against it.

The door shut with a little click. He held his breath, listening for the slightest sound. Nothing stirred. The potion that Snape had drunk was apparently will working. Harry was pretty sure that at any other time the spy would've jumped up, wand in hand, the very instant he'd crossed the threshold.

He waited for a moment, while his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, then crept stealthily forward. No, Snape wasn't snoring… He wasn't sleeping in a night cap either, or a brocaded night shirt, nothing that would allow him to blackmail the professor at Hogwarts. Actually, the sight the professor made was rather frightening. Clearly, one could count on Snape to be impressive even while sleeping.

Harry couldn't decide if the potion had acted too quickly or if it was Snape's custom to sleep fully clothed. Whichever it was, the man was completely stretched out, still wearing the clothes he'd had on when he'd come up to his room, his robes spread out on the bed, his hand still clenching his wand. He hadn't even taken the time to take off his boots, Harry realized.

His face was pale and fixed, his posture stiff…the cat felt his heart skip a beat. Was he dead? What if exhaustion had finally got the best of the Potions master? What if Dumbledore's potion had poisoned him?

With a single leap, he was onto the bed and stealthily crept up to the professor, almost touching the man's face with his nose. He waited a moment, his muscles tensed…before relaxing with a sigh of relief: yes, Snape was breathing, nothing remarkable like the snoring he'd hoped for, but his chest was rhythmically rising and falling slowly, breath after breath.

Reassured, Shadow sat to look around him. So what could the terrible Potions master's lair look like? But a quick glance was enough to disappoint him. In contrast to the laboratory overburdened with shelves, books, and sundry ingredients, Snape's room was nearly empty, almost monastic. A simple bed without curtains stood facing the door, a nightstand where two books lay, a wardrobe, a chest in a corner…and no windows.

Rather sinister, Harry thought… Another door at the side surely led to a bathroom, but the only light in the room was coming in from underneath the door that opened into the hallway.

Did Snape like confined spaces this much? No decorative touches ornamented the room's walls, which wasn't at all surprising, given the rest of the Manor. It would seem the professor wasn't a domestic man.

Harry would've probably pondered the implications of this discovery a bit more, but Shadow himself found that he couldn't care less. He'd found his Man in Black again, safe and sound, and the Manor's decor wasn't important at all. He was there, and the wave of tenderness that washed over him as he placed a paw on the man's shoulder didn't raise a single question or protest in the depths of his consciousness.

The Man in Black belonged to him, like Shadow belonged to the wizard. Nothing was simpler. He wouldn't let anyone harm his human, and he knew the man would defend him the same way.

What else did he possibly need to know?

When the next meal was, perhaps….

Curling up against the wizard's shoulder, the cat fell soundly to sleep, a slight purring in his throat.

 ***

It wasn't hunger that awakened Shadow, but a change in the rhythm of the Man in Black's heart. He felt him take a deep breath, his muscles suddenly regaining control of his body, and an instant afterward, the wizard was sitting up on the bed, with his wand in his hand.

Shadow pulled away and went to sit on the edge of the bed, then yawned widely.

He'd really slept well; he wondered what time it could be now, hard to know with no windows…

His eyes met the Man in Black's, and the yawn died in his throat.

Hmmm, it would appear that the wizard didn't appreciate his intrusion. The dark look he bestowed upon the cat was laced with irritation and menace.

"I suppose the hopes of maintaining a minimum of privacy in my own Manor would be too much to ask?"

Shadow flattened himself out on the mattress, his heart racing.

"That's quite enough, Potter, outside, now!"

The cat didn't budge, but contented itself with staring at him, its pupils dilated.

With a hiss of anger, Snape got up in a flash and threw the door open wide. "Out-side!"

Without delay, the chat jumped from the bed and bolted into the hallway, without as much as a by-your-leave.

With a sigh of ill-temper, Snape slammed the door. He hadn’t even noticed that the brat had come into his room. Merlin, was he going to be forced to lock his door? He should've never agreed to that potion; anything could've happened! What good was it to forego windows if the door remained wide open? Obviously, access was usually restricted by protective wards, but he'd truly been too exhausted to think of them the night before.

And Dumbledore was supposed to be keeping watch. Merlin, he hoped the Headmaster hadn't deserted his post during the night; was that why Harry had come to him?

Come to think of it, Severus suspected just the opposite… He sighed. They'd won a battle, as much against Voldemort as for the boy's healing, but they'd not won the war.

At the very least, this night's rest had done him a great deal of good; he could feel the ache in the muscles of his back, and his magic still seemed weakened, but he felt able to cut a good figure.

And have a serious talk with Harry about the boundaries of his territory. Shaking his head, he opened the door to the bathroom. At least the boy hadn't checked out his brand of shampoo. In any case, he hoped he hadn't.

***

When Snape entered the sitting room, he felt a slight sense of déjà vu at the scene awaiting him. Dumbledore, his demeanor slightly piqued, was trying to coax the black cat out from under an armchair where it'd taken refuge; the cat didn't seem to have the slightest intention of leaving

"Severus, I'm pleased you're awake! It would seem that Harry's had a few small transformation difficulties this morning. Did you sleep well?"

"As I usually do with a potion," Snape replied dryly. "Potter, come out from there before becoming totally ridiculous. You already manage that quite well enough in normal circumstances."

The cat flicked an ear, but didn't make a move otherwise.

"Potter, you're aware that you're hiding under a chair, aren't you?"

The total absence of reaction in the cat awakened Snape's concern.

"Harry, come out," he said again more calmly, which only seemed to make the cat nervous.

"Hmmm. You tried to feed him, I assume?" he asked the Headmaster. With a contrite smile, the man handed him a bowlful of fish.

Snape groaned as he made half of it disappear, before placing the bowl at his feet. A second later, the cat crept cautiously toward him. With one last hesitation, it threw itself at the bowl, no longer bothering with the two wizards watching it.

Snape frowned. This was a typically Shadowesque way of doing things…but on the other hand, there hadn't been the slightest trace of Harry in the way the cat was acting since Snape'd awakened.

That really didn't sit well with him….

"Did something happen last night?" he asked the Headmaster.

"Absolutely not. Everything was very calm. I stayed here the entire night, and Harry joined me barely a quarter-hour ago, in his present form. He didn't seem happy to see me," he finished.

"Harry left his room last night."

"Oh, really?" asked Dumbledore innocently, a smile in his voice.

"You heard him, didn't you?" Snape growled. "And you let him, of course."

"It seemed to me that Shadow's…presence wouldn't disturb you," Dumbledore replied.

Severus grimaced when he heard the name. What right did he have….

"Severus, don't take this so badly," Dumbledore continued in a conciliatory tone. "It seemed to me that Harry was having trouble getting to sleep. I understand that his intrusion bothers you, but consider it for what it is: the actions of a child who didn't feel safe, alone in his room, after what he'd been through. This will pass once he's back on his feet, I'm certain of it."

And as soon as you're gone, Snape thought.

Hadn't Dumbledore appreciated the extent of the problem? He didn't know, but for once Snape hadn't the slightest desire to see the Headmaster meddle. Reporting a problem, waiting for Dumbledore to suggest a solution, and applying his orders to the letter to resolve it—Snape knew all too well how to do that. Carrying out his mission, not overly concerned with the details, playing his part without questioning the Headmaster's motives…and why not?

He knew his role in the war, and he was only a pawn, not an end unto himself, nor a knight in shining armor fighting for a better world. The most loyal mercenary in all of history, at the most.

But Harry? That was different. This time, it was his battle, and no one would take it from him…no one could, in truth.

"I don't think Voldemort will attempt to attack the Manor so soon. Thank you for watching over it, though," Snape said with a nod at the old wizard.

Catching the hint, Dumbledore gathered his robes and glanced one last time at the cat.

"Will you need potions? Poppy had a bag of them sent last night; I put it on the table in your laboratory."

"Nothing I can't make myself. I'll contact you if that proves necessary."

Dumbledore nodded, and with Snape at his side, headed for the dungeon.

"You'll keep me up to date, Severus?"

It was more an order than a question, the Potions master decided, but that barely bothered him. Albus had understood.

"I doubt there'll be much to tell. Harry needs to rest and regain his strength, and he's going to do just that. He's more than earned it."

"Certainly, certainly…and if I may, my boy, he's not the only one in that case," Dumbledore said.

For an instant, Snape was tempted to retort sharply, but the jolly little twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes stopped him

"I'll keep you informed of how things are going," he said at last, when they'd arrived in front of the fireplace. "Let me know if Voldemort spreads rumors about him in any way. Not that I'll be able to do much about it…"

"Take a rest, Severus," the Headmaster answered firmly, a hand on the professor's arm. "You've accomplished your mission, and well beyond. I can't express how grateful I am for your actions; without you, Harry would've probably been dead long ago…and our hopes along with him."

Snape couldn't hold back a snort of disgust. Their hopes, yes… He would've decidedly preferred that the Headmaster see a bit less hope and a lot more teenager in Harry. But this was Dumbledore. The only wizard truly capable of countering Voldemort, the only one possessing the courage to lead the war. What should he've expected?

Albus was hugely fond of Harry, probably more than the Headmaster himself would've liked. But that fact changed nothing concerning the war, nor of the boy's destiny.

And that, even Severus had to admit.

"I'll take care of him," he finally said.

"I don't doubt it," Dumbledore agreed. "In that case, I'll see you in two days."

"Perhaps," Snape said thoughtfully. "Probably."

With a last incline of his head and an understanding smile, the Headmaster disappeared into the flames of the Floo powder.

Snape chased away the irritation that'd plagued him so often nowadays when he was with the Headmaster, and focused his thoughts on Harry. He had to get to the truth of the matter, but he strongly suspected that a new problem was looming on the horizon. And speaking of the cat…

Snape turned around, and was unsurprised when he noticed the animal hesitating at the doorway to the laboratory. "Enter."

The cat trotted happily to him, his eyes a bit uncertain.

"Harry?" he asked, when the cat was seated in front of him. "If you understand me, I'd like you to resume your human form."

For a few long moments, the cat and wizard observed each other without anything happening. Snape let out a long, annoyed sigh.

"Harry? Do you hear me?"

The cat flicked a questioning ear, but its cat eyes only reflected incomprehension.

An instant later, a disoriented teenager stood before him, trying to regain his balance. Obviously troubled, Harry glanced around the room, then turned his attention to Snape.

"Um…Dumbledore's gone?" he asked.

"Professor Dumbledore. Yes, he's gone back to Hogwarts."

"Oh. Good."

Harry started to feel ill-at-ease under Snape's assessing eyes. Clearly, it would've perhaps helped if he could've remembered how he'd got there…in his cat form, it appeared, but he wasn't entirely sure about that.

"Might I know why you didn't answer me, a moment ago?" Snape asked.

Harry tried in vain to wrack his memory, but he couldn't even remember the professor speaking to him since…since…

"I'm sorry. Did you want something?" he said at last.

"Yes, to know what's wrong. Harry, is there a problem with your transformations?"

"Excuse me?" the boy asked, stunned. What transformation? "Oh, I bothered you, then?" he said, with sudden realization as his last memory came back to him. Night had just fallen when he'd slipped out of his room…what time could it be now? It was broad daylight, anyway.

"That's a discussion for later, but indeed, I hardly appreciate the intrusion into my rooms. However, for this time, I believe I can understand. But that's not the issue at hand. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Hmm…leaving my room, with the idea of going to yours," Harry confessed, feeling the blood rise into his cheeks. He really had to grow up…what was he thinking?

"And afterward?" Snape asked, indifferent to the boy's embarrassment.

"I changed forms, but the rest is rather hazy. I think that I, um, got up on your bed. I'm really sorry, Professor, I couldn't get to sleep and I was afraid of…well…"

"That's not important," Snape interrupted in irritation. "Concentrate. What do you remember from when you were in your cat form?"

"Not much, actually," Harry answered. "Meeting up with you again. Seeing Dumbledore…Professor Dumbledore, later, and following you here. It's a bit confused," he apologized as he shook his head.

"Indeed," Snape said. "Is this normal? Up until now, it seems to me that you were perfectly aware of everything, whichever form you took."

"Hmm," Harry agreed thoughtfully.

In truth, the few memories he had of his last time as Shadow were more than confused. It was if he'd once again forgotten that he really wasn't a cat, and that Shadow had a way of seeing things that was completely personal. The few impressions he'd managed to recapture were of an intense feeling of security, of belonging, and of deep affection…and a total absence of anxiety.

He'd felt so good, frankly. And now, back in his true form, he no longer remembered how such a miracle could've occurred.

"Harry?" Snape prodded.

The boy hesitated; the professor's frown and the worry in his eyes were the reason for his reticence. "Well, I didn't have this problem before, not since Grimmauld Place. This time, it's like I forgot that I could be anyone else but Shadow…"

"Harry, despite this ridiculous name I've given you—"

"It's not ridiculous!" the boy protested.

"No matter," Snape said, annoyed. "Despite this name, you are but one and the same person, whatever your form. There is no reason to dissociate them."

"I know," Harry answered thoughtfully, "but I didn't know that at the beginning, when I first came here. And the way things turned out, all that's happened in the meantime, I don't remember the rest anymore. That changed everything, you understand. When I take my cat form, I experience things differently, so it's not surprising I feel different as well. And…good," he huffed out in an audible breath.

"Good?" Snape continued.

"Better, anyway," Harry sighed. "Last night, I wasn't thinking anymore about everything that's happened, and all that's yet to come; all that mattered was the here and now. That I remember, at least. And it was nice, really, and restful."

"You couldn't get to sleep last evening?" the professor asked.

"No. Too many things to think about."

"You could've taken a potion. Those I left in your room are intact."

"With Dumbledore nearby? No, I don't think so," Harry replied. Then, regretting his words, he added, "Listen, I know it wasn't true, that he didn't really do all that to me. But for now, it's just too…recent, concrete. It's hard to take all those things into consideration when I still hurt everywhere."

Seeming slightly guilty, Severus headed for the table and opened the bag of potions that Pomfrey had had sent to them.

"No need to suffer in silence, Harry. There are potions for that. Drink," he said as he handed him several phials.

The boy took the potions and swallowed them without a word, while Snape took some for himself. He didn't feel that bad, really; he'd known worse. The situation bothered him much more than the diffuse pain in his muscles.

"Harry, it's normal for you to have trouble keeping your thoughts straight, after all that's just happened," Snape said, as if he'd read his mind. "I'm certainly not going to scold you for having appropriately reacted to a potion that I myself designed and made. It will take some time before you'll be able to gain some perspective on all of that, of which I'm perfectly aware. You have the time. The only thing you should concern yourself with now is feeling the best you can, in your mind and in your transformations, as well as with your powers. The rest of it isn't important right now."

"But Voldemort..." Harry began.

"Is out of commission, thanks to you. Not definitely, I'll grant you, but enough to give you a serious reprieve. I'm not claiming that you're out of danger, or that nothing else can happen, but the chances of that are limited for now, and I ask you to leave the responsibility for that to me. Do you think you can do that?"

The boy shot him a perplexed look. "Protect me? I think you've already done that…and then some."

"What I've done is one thing. What I'd like to know, Harry, is if you trust me to keep you safe?" the Potions master calmly asked.

"Seems clear to me," the boy retorted. When Snape continued to stare at him, he started to think for a moment. Maybe the professor was right after all. Maybe he didn't trust him completely. "Listen…it's not like that." He sighed. "I trust you, all right? Really. You managed to save me, several times, you've defended me, and what you did yesterday was…no one's ever done such a thing for me. Besides my mother, obviously, but…that's the problem, you know? I'm not used to that. The people I grew up with didn't really bother about my safety."

He felt a new wave of bitterness wash over him. He didn't have the right to speak ill of the Dursleys, not now that they were dead. "And the ones who wanted to protect me are dead. My mother, my father, Sirius. So I suppose, given all that, I prefer to take care of myself," he said with a shrug.

"Understandable," Snape agreed.

"But I trust you," Harry added. "That much is clear. Shadow wouldn't allow me to think otherwise," he offered with a smile.

But Snape frowned at what he said. "Harry, I insist that you don't differentiate between your two forms, anymore than you already have. I understand you feel the need to do that, but it would be an escape and a weakness. Do you understand?"

"I'm not a coward!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn’t' try to do it, it just happened! And rather a good thing, I'd say, I'd never have come here if I'd remembered…."

He fell silent, avoiding the professor's eyes. Since when had he been afraid of hurting Snape? And since when had he been ashamed to admit that he'd hated him? It wasn't as if he'd been responsible for their dislike of each other this summer…

"Far be it from me to treat you like a coward," Snape replied calmly. "I understand completely that you don't have any direct control over your Animagus form and the way you experience it; my remark was only a warning. I can protect you from Death Eaters, Harry, but not from yourself."

Harry nodded, troubled. The professor wasn't wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes just now.

"By the way, I apologize for not being there for you last night," Snape continued, in what Harry recognized as his 'Shadow' voice. "I suspected that you weren't comfortable with the arrangements that the Headmaster and I'd made, but I was too worn-out to reasonably guarantee the Manor's safekeeping. Taking that potion was in hindsight an error, and I regret it."

This time, Harry couldn't help but look the professor in the eyes. Snape was apologizing? To him?

"Of course not," he said as he shook his head. "I have no excuse for going into your room, Professor. I apologize. I was worried about sleeping, after all that'd just happened, and…I suppose that you have proof now that I trust you. I knew that I'd feel safer if you were close by."

He thought he saw a little gleam of satisfaction in Snape's eyes as he said the words.

"All right, it would seem we're both sorry. Just as good a way as any to get off to a new start, I assume," the professor said with a slight smile.

Yeah, Harry thought bitterly, as good a way as any. It'd almost been easy to hide in Snape's arms, and to beg him not to leave when he'd been exhausted and despairing. But now that they were here in the dungeon, talking about him taking his time, and apologizing…everything seemed more difficult.

But that wasn't Shadow's opinion, of course…and Shadow was never far off. He gave the Potions master a smile.

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked.

Harry was about to answer when his stomach spoke for him.

"Apparently, yes," he said, with a little embarrassed laugh. "Do you want me to fix something?"

"Two will make that go more quickly," Snape said as he turned toward the hallway. "I believe we've both earned the biggest lunch in the history of wizardom…and the nap that goes with it."

"Are you still tired?" Harry asked worriedly, with a frown.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," the professor replied calmly. "But I suppose you didn’t have a chance to look in the mirror this morning?"

"A mirror?" Harry asked. "Do I look as bad as all that?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary there either."

"Oh, thanks," the boy grimaced.

He really wanted to believe Snape. Despite the good night he'd spent, he felt achy and exhausted. And if Harry felt that way after absorbing energy and powers, the professor certainly had to feel worn-out.

But that was going to change, Harry decided.  From now on, he was going to make sure Snape recovered as quickly as possible, starting with a good meal prepared with his own hands!

Famished and impatient, Harry got his hands on the bacon, and his stomach growling in anticipation, put it in the pan.

Before he had time to react, a black cloud escaped from the pan with a menacing sizzle, spreading through the room. Coughing, Harry threw the utensil away from him, his hand against his chest.

"Owww!" he yelped.

In the same instant, he heard Snape cast, "Aguamenti," and the acrid smoke started to dissipate.

"Did you burn yourself?" the wizard asked.

"Yes! I don't understand! I just cast the spell you taught me!" Harry said, annoyed, looking at the pan lying on the floor. The bottom seemed like it'd been dipped in acid, warped and almost eaten away.

"The same spell, but with different powers," Snape explained. "I should've warned you. It will probably take you some time to master them."

"In the meantime, the bacon's ruined, not to mention the pan," Harry said, bending down to inspect it. "It's rather frightening. That was just a simple cooking spell; what would it have been if I'd tried something more powerful?"

"That's why we'll begin to work on your powers after eating," Snape replied.

"And after naptime," the boy added.

"Your sense of priorities still astounds me, Potter," Snape said as he handed him a jar of salve for the burns.

"Don't call me that," Harry said, making a face. "You've saved my life. You could at least call me by my first name, even when I irritate you."

"If that were written in Hogwarts' rules, I would've had to call you by your given name since your first year," Snape said offhandedly.

Harry clenched his jaw a bit more, applying the salve to his hand. "You know very well what I mean. What you did yesterday…that was different."

"That seems to upset you," the professor observed.

"Yeah. I don't know. It's not like you only saved my life. You did the same thing as my mother…and you could've died."

Snape looked at him for a long moment, his arms crossed. "I don't intend to lose you now," Snape said at last.

"Me?" Harry asked brusquely. "Or the war?"

The question that had seemed so difficult to ask of Dumbledore had slipped out on its own to the Potions master.

"It's not just a war, Harry, it's a matter of the fate of thousands of people. It's about freedom and all the other values that it's right to fight for."

Snape saw the boy's shoulders slump. "But sometimes," he continued gently, "one can't help but think that the fate of a single person is more important than that of a thousand others. That spell yesterday wouldn't have had any effect if, at the time, I'd been thinking of your usefulness in the war."

He knew the boy wasn't about to transform into the cat, but he could see the attitude of his entire body change to the point of being hardly recognizable.  Could a simple phrase truly have so much of an effect?

The emotions running through him were clearly visible on the boy's face: gratitude, relief, happiness, and something Snape was having trouble putting his finger on. Harry blinked like Shadow did, and an instant afterward, it was finally a black cat who was watching him, seeming completely trusting and tranquil.

The same eyes, but such a different expression. Much too different….

"Harry?"

The cat craned its head forward, intrigued.

Snape shook his head. What was he supposed to do in this situation? But whatever he decided, he had no right to make a mistake. If he wanted to get to the bottom of things, he had to deal with this single problem, and what was the most difficult part, without hurting Harry.

The teenager wobbled for a moment before regaining his balance. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. What's the problem, Harry? I don't have the feeling that this transformation was voluntary," Snape said.

"No…I suppose I'll need more practice. I didn't see that one coming…"

"One more time: this could be an effect of your new powers. More power, less mastery…" the professor stated. But he wasn't certain he believed it, not completely. And he was convinced that the boy was thinking the same thing as he was.

"Let's eat," he decided at last. Taking out another pan and some slices of bacon, he himself incanted the cooking spell.

A few minutes later, the table was overflowing with food, and the two wizards seemed determined to finish it all off.

Stomach full, Harry thought that things definitely seemed less melodramatic. Or maybe that was because of the potions Snape'd made him swallow. He was fairly sure that the purple potion had been a remedy for anxiety. He certainly wasn't going to complain about it. If he had to test his powers that afternoon, he was going to need a goodly dose of self-control. Merlin, what he'd done to that pan…and he'd only tried to gently fry the bacon!

"Ready, Harry?" Snape asked, seeming more alert after having swallowed a round of potions that would've made any other average wizard pass from life to death.

Definitely a Potions master, the boy thought. "Ready. But it'd be best for me to go outside if I have to test my powers. I don’t want the Manor to look like that pan."

"Precisely what I intended," Snape said.

"You don' think that could be dangerous?"

"Not anymore, no. The park is as protected as the Manor. Without the connection created by the potion, Voldemort would've never been able to come so close."

"Good thing," Harry agreed. "Maybe I could fly a bit, if everything goes all right?"

Severus shot him a scathing sideways look. "And risk accidentally leaving the boundaries of the property? Brilliant idea."

"I could stay right around the Manor," Harry protested, then, at the professor's dark look, he added, "…or not."

"Or not," Snape finished. "One thing at a time, Harry. Do you have your wand? Good. Never be without it; that would be a grave mistake."

"Hmm. Even in the Manor? That doesn't seem necessary. I mean, no one's going to attack me here. Not with the Fidelius charm."

"That's exactly what your father thought," the professor replied tersely. "With the result we both know."

Harry froze in place. "My father didn't have his wand on him?"

"Not the evening when Voldemort went to find you, no," Snape confirmed pointedly.

It was perhaps a hard lesson, but it was out of the question for the boy to become careless on this matter. Moody was perhaps an old paranoid fool, but at the very least, he was right about one thing: constant vigilance was required.

"But he fought him! I know it, I hear it when the Dementors are close by, I hear my father tell my mother that he's going to hold them back, just before…" He swallowed with difficulty. "Just before my mother dies."

"He was trying to buy time, Harry. For your mother and yourself. But he wasn't able to fight or defend himself. His wand was lying in another room."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, subdued.

"I know it," Snape answered simply. And with a wave of his hand, he motioned him toward the hallway.

Mulling over what the Potions master had just told him, the boy headed for the dungeon stairway. James had believed himself safe in his house, and he'd been wrong. He'd done everything possible to protect his family, only to fail and end up dying defenseless.

Snape would've never made a mistake like that. However much he hadn't liked Harry, the man had protected him without fail, well beyond his limitations.

But that wasn't entirely correct. Snape had made a mistake by pushing him to present himself at the Ministry. And it probably wasn't true, either, to say that he didn't like Harry, because that's what he'd meant by what he'd said just before the meal, wasn't it? It wasn't only because of the war. It was him. He'd made that mistake while wanting to protect him, and he wanted to protect Harry himself, not because of what he stood for.

All of a sudden, Harry wanted to be out in the sun, out of doors, flying maybe, or simply feeling the wind and warmth on his skin.

As he navigated the stairs, Harry turned to Snape, a little smile on his face. "You never use the front door, isn't that so? That would be faster…"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I was planning on getting a few potions underway. But you're free to go out the front door, of course; I'll join you in a few minutes."

Harry shook his head. "No, I prefer to go out from down here too…It's weird, but I have this feeling that if I went out the front door, it wouldn't be the same place anymore."

The professor shot him a strange look, but didn't answer.

After grinding up a few ingredients, the two wizards exited the dungeon, leaving the cauldrons on the burners. The sun was at its highest, and it was hard to believe that only a few hours earlier, an icy fog had filled the park.

"Almost like nothing happened," Harry murmured to himself.

"That's always the way of things," Snape replied. "The world still goes on, whatever happens."

His tone was neutral, but Harry didn't doubt that the professor had a very precise thought in mind as he said the words.

He'd learnt so many things about Snape since the beginning of the hols, but it nevertheless remained true that he hardly knew the man. And the more time he spent with him, the more he wanted to know. Still, asking him questions about his life would've probably been premature.

"Why don't you start with a simple spell?" Snape suggested, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Harry nodded. Taking off his glasses, he threw them into the grass, a few steps away, then raised his wand. "Accio glasses!"

They came to rest in his hands with a bit more force than he would've liked.

"Did you cast the spell more gently than usual?" Snape asked.

"Yes. I'm going to have to get used to decreasing the intensity of my incantations, but that wasn't anything like what happened in the kitchen."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "A Diffindo now, at that tree," he said as he pointed to a large oak in front of them. "Being careful, of course."

Spotting the tree, Harry lifted his wand and spoke the incantation. For a second, he felt his hand sting intensely, as if under the effect of a slight electric charge, before taking a step backward, as he held his wand in two hands against the backlash. In front of him, the tree whipped about in a crashing of branches.

But not just split in two like he'd expected. No, the tree was literally chopped into pieces, in a bizarre and disorganized fashion that made him shudder.

"Here's something that could prove useful next winter," Snape stated. "Did you modify the spell like I asked you?"

"Yes," Harry murmured. "It should've only slashed the bark, the way I was picturing it…"

"Rather impressive. Did you feel anything in particular?"

"Hmm, yeah, it was like my hand got numb, right when I cast the spell. Do you think that's coming from the new powers?"

"Most likely," Snape agreed. "Or rather a conflict between your powers and the ones you've just acquired. The latter didn't exert any particular influence on a spell as neutral as Accio, but Diffindo is different, as it can be considered an offensive spell, and it's there that Voldemort's powers come into play. Not only in their power, but also in the way the spell is carried out. You're accustomed to using magic that's as white and light as possible, but such is not the case with the Dark Lord. He always exploited his powers in the most destructive manner possible, tainting them with his soul and his will to dominate. That's what is awakened when you cast a spell that could be offensive in nature…"

Harry had paled at these words. "But that's not my way of using my powers! He can't do that in spite of me, can he?"

"First, I'm afraid so. But your own powers help to neutralize this aggressiveness, and of course that will not last forever. A period of adjustment will still be necessary."

"Not only in their power…" Harry murmured as he processed the information.

"No. You know that each wizard has a magical signature. It allows the creator of a spell to be identified, as well as a wizard who casts it. Magic is only a neutral energy; the way it works is changed by the one using it. If you'd absorbed all of Voldemort's powers, this assimilation would've been even more difficult…"

"Is that why you didn't want me to do that?" the boy asked.

"Partially. My first reason was equally legitimate."

"But what could this do, outside of a battle? I'm going to have to be careful about every spell I cast; I'd've never imagined that Diffindo could produce this type of result!"

"Indeed," Snape said. For an instant, he seemed to be thinking intently, his index finger tapping his cheek in a familiar gesture. "I'd like you to try a different spell on the tree to the side. Sectumsemptra," he said, demonstrating the wandwork in the air.

"Sectumsempra? I don't now that…"

Fixing the neighboring tree, Harry did his best to imitate he's professor's movements.

 The same stinging sent pins and needles into his hand, more intensely this time. A flash of light struck the tree, which fell to join the one already on the ground.

In comparison, Harry thought, the first tree could count itself fortunate. The second seemed to have been the victim of a mad axe-murderer, who'd swallowed down one Pepperup too many.

More and more ill-at-ease, he turned to Snape, who himself seemed more than ever lost in his thoughts.

"Professor?"

The wizard looked at him, clearly troubled. "This spell is not supposed to have an effect on plants or inanimate objects. Your new powers are more than impressive. You'll have to be very careful, Harry…and train yourself."

The boy made a face. "You don't need to tell me that. No hopes of taking up dueling again, or even Defense class right now. I don't like this, not at all…and I won't put anyone in danger!"

"Indeed, it would most likely be very easy for you to kill or torture, Harry. That's what the powers you've acquired are used to, and what they're going to try to do. But you'll be the one controlling them, and the one casting the spells. With a bit of training, everything will be fine."

"I don't know," the boy said. "It's a bit scary, I don't get much of a feeling I can control them, not when I see the result…."

"Don't be impatient. These powers will become accustomed to you, I assure you. You've gained considerable strength; consider it as an advantage, not a handicap! This could make all the difference on that day when you'll have to confront Voldemort."

"So long as they don't turn against me," Harry said somberly.

"Out of the question. The powers aren't self-aware…they are only influenced by their wizard. They fought, just as your own did, to return to their rightful owner, as long as the spell didn't intervene. They recognize you as their owner now. It's just a simple question of magical influence. Trust me."

Harry searched the professor's eyes for a long moment before nodding. "I'd be more reassured, though, if I didn't have to fight right away," he said.

"That would be preferable in any case. But there, too, it's best to know what to expect."

Lifting his wand, he began to murmur a group of spells in a low voice, before taking several steps backward.

"Try to disarm me."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Harry answered nervously.

"It's not really an offensive spell. My defenses are at their maximum. An effort, Mister Potter, I know you want to do it!"

"Don't call me that," the boy grumbled.

"If Gryffindors spent less time laying blame and looking for reasons not to fight, this war could've been over long ago. I don't have all night, Potter!"

Clenching his jaw, the boy reluctantly lifted his wand.

There wasn't actually a jolt of electricity in his hand this time, but he could feel the spell's power as his wind vibrated with the incantation.

The spell reached Snape, and despite his shields, Harry could see that the professor had to grip his wand with all of his might to keep from being disarmed. He staggered for an instant under the force of the shock.

"Perfect," he said approvingly. "Now, I'd like you to focus on blocking my attacks."

Harry felt the wand shake in his hand, but nothing more.

There again, nothing more than a far away, tickling sensation.

This time, absolutely nothing happened.

Snape lowered his wand and shook his head.

"Perhaps you should try something more…aggressive?" Harry suggested. "I didn't feel any effects from those."

"All the better," the professor replied, his voice strangely neutral. "That will be enough for today."

Intrigued, Harry shot him a questioning look. Since the beginning of the hols, Snape had seemed to relax his usual mask of impassivity, letting his emotions show distinctly in his face. But now, his expression was completely unreadable, and the boy sensed he was trying to hide something from him.

"Why?" he insisted. "I managed pretty well; I really think my defenses are more powerful! I'm not asking you for an Avada Kedavra, but something a bit more powerful, just to test it? I trust you to stick the pieces back together if I don't manage to block it," he said with a smile.

The professor's face remained fixed, but Harry was able to see a flash in his eyes.

"That will be enough for now. I suggest that your work on something else. Your transformations perhaps."

"But why?" Harry protested.

Snape turned to face him, and Harry thought for an instant that the wizard was going to answer his question. He opened his mouth, but then closed it.

"Do what I say."

But before he had the chance to turn away, Snape felt a familiar sensation invade him…someone was leafing through his thoughts, searching in his memory for… No!

Harry was using Legilimency on him, without even having lifted his wand or spoken a word! Good god, he'd not even taught the boy the spell… Not waiting any longer, he abruptly raised all his defenses, attempting to empty his mind and push the boy out.

It was hopeless, however. Harry's powers were much too strong to be resisted. Snape had been able to keep the Dark Lord at a distance, using all of his will, but his power combined with the boy's was simply impossible to withstand.

He could only try his best to resist, in the hopes that Harry wasn't digging into the darkest corners of his memory…

Harry wanted to know. Snape had no right to hide information from him, not now, not like this! He'd never tried to use Legilimency, but he'd recognized the spell right away when he found it in the Potions master's thoughts. Hence, their roles were reversed now. Oh well, it was now or never! So, why had he wanted to stop the testing session?

Images streamed before him, before stopping. Snape was casting a first-year spell at him, and had to use all his strength to do it. His second spell, even weaker, hardly grazed the boy's shield, with the third one ineffective.

Snape simply didn't have any more magic at his disposal.

Struck with remorse, Harry wanted to withdraw from the professor's mind, and apologize, if that were possible, but already the images had changed. Snape sitting on the bed, holding him in his arms as he felt his strength leaving him unrelentingly. Trying to hide his weakness so as not to alarm him, and drinking potion after potion so Harry could continue to suck him dry. Casting a Protego with all of his soul, draining his magic and what remained of his strength.

Alarmed, Harry reached out his arms to stop him, but it was hopeless, obviously, just a memory he could no longer do anything about…once again, the picture changed.

Godric's Hollow… He only had hazy memories of the place. He'd been too weak then to realize that he was in his parents' village, at the very place were they were laid to rest. But Snape was there, coming toward him, a knife in his hand. Harry remembered that he'd not been afraid, but he could feel the professor's apprehension as he came closer, dressed in Death Eater garb, in order to discreetly pour a potion down Harry's throat. He was trying, against all hope, to break the Death Eater circle and leave the grip of the Anti-Apparition wards.

He knew he didn't have a chance, but he wasn't any less determined, and ran as fast as he could, holding Harry against him. And behind…behind them, Harry could see the silvery silhouette of a huge dog and a stag, throwing themselves on the Death Eaters, sowing panic amongst their ranks.

The scenario seemed to speed up, and an instant afterward, Snape was standing on the threshold of the house, unable to leave, calling Harry by the name he'd given him, the despair in his cry giving Harry goose bumps. And then the figure of a woman was bending over Shadow, taking him into her arms, Snape's heart pounding so hard, it seemed about to explode…

Lily.

His mother! His mother had come to help him? And he'd not told him anything? His mother, handing the unconscious cat to the professor, who murmured a word to him…

What had happened? Why? Why not tell him anything? He didn't have the right to hide this, and behind them, Prongs and Padfoot were watching them, satisfied. No, it wasn't possible!

And yet, he could feel the professor's intense relief, mixed with regret, with sadness, with suffering, with joy as well, and a profound feeling of gratitude… How could one feel so many things, all at the same time? He'd always thought Snape a cold and relatively indifferent person… His opinion had changed this summer, of course, but what he'd just felt in the professor's memories was so intense, that he had the sensation of a sharp blade digging into his chest.

The professor's face, though, showed hardly any more emotion than it had recently, only his eyes speaking for him….

Before he had time to adjust, the images changed once again. Snape, preparing a potion in a vast room, tired and tense, but his motions precise. Someone was laughing behind him, a long, satisfying laugh…  Voldemort. The pale face was even more hideous, split by a sickening smile. The professor didn't think differently, given the tension in his shoulders, but something suddenly caught his attention, and he nervously looked up.

Harry couldn't help but startle when he saw what Snape was looking at…a face, far away, confused, two green eyes peering out from it, brimming with pain and fear.

His own…and Snape, mad with worry and rage, powerless to help him, forced to wait for the right moment, swearing to get him out of there….

Snape. Since when had the man begun to be so protective of him? Harry wondered, and couldn't help but feel strangely comforted by the thought.

He'd just barely asked himself the question, when the reel of Snape's thoughts moved on and accelerated.

Privet Drive. He gave a start. Snape, at Privet Drive?

Vernon opened the door, and Harry felt himself draw back at the sight of the man…but Snape wasn't impressed, and the door shut behind him.

Vernon explaining the situation. Harry could sense the professor's bitterness as the man accused Harry of murder. Snape believed it, Harry understood, and the thought filled him with anguish. The idea didn't even surprise him, that Snape could see him as a murderer.

But everything wasn't turning out like Vernon would've liked. With the string of questions, Harry could feel the professor's mind trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

And then they were there, in Harry's room, Snape questioning Vernon, and suddenly….

Before he had time to understand what was happening to him, Harry found himself in Vernon's mind, Snape's still resting at the surface.

Harry and Vernon, in the little room…the insults, the blows. Vernon's twisted satisfaction, Snape's fury. The hatred of the two men. And himself, on the floor, allowing himself to be beaten without protesting.

It was yesterday. He could still feel the sting of the belt. And he'd been right. But the perverseness of Vernon's feelings, Snape's devastating anger, it was too much, much too much…

Now it was Vernon screaming at the blows of the belt enchanted by Snape, and the professor shut him in there, doing up the locks with a satisfied smile.

His cat. Harry thought he felt himself smile weakly. Yes, this was truly His Snape. He was sure of it now. Who else would've avenged him this way?

The scene changed, Petunia now in the tidy sitting room…accusing Snape of having corrupted Lily. How could Petunia know the professor? But by the feeling of disgust he sensed in the professor, it was clear that they weren't meeting for the first time.

Harry stiffened at the question.

The boy felt the same bitterness that he'd noticed in the professor spread through him. Snape, though, seemed more shaken that he was. Upset, actually.'

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. Snape? His mother? His son?

And the regret…the betrayal he felt in the Potions master as he said those words…

Not able to take anymore, Harry closed his eyes and with all his might, threw himself out of the professor's mind.

Vernon. Voldemort. Death Eaters. Lily. Snape.

He was going to explode. He had to explode, do something…but before he had the chance, he felt his mind connect with someone else's once again, and the images forced themselves into his own mind.

A dark room, where a strong odor of blood lingered. A bed, a figure…and the fire. Hatred.

"Potter!"

"Don't believe you'll get away like this! We're not finished! Oh no, we haven't finished!"

But he could sense the wizard's body, how his magic was broken, and only the Dark Lord's rage still gave strength to the waves of pure hatred that had just painfully spilled out into Harry's mind.

"I will kill them all, all whom you love, those who've protected you, those who've helped you, and yourself at the end, yes, once you've seen them all die…and it'll be you who will beg me to take your life! I already know whom to start with, Harry…"

But the connection was abruptly broken, and Harry opened his eyes wide, gasping. He was stretched out in the grass, his hands clenched in a clump of grass; he could hear Snape's voice behind him, his hands on his shoulders.

"Harry, push him out, come back, listen to me!"

But Harry'd already done it. He'dve liked to reassure Snape, but he realized he wasn't able. Too many things, too many visions, too many emotions. Refusing to think, he closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting out a long scream with all the force of his lungs.

For everything. For the mother whom he hadn't known, and who'd saved him, for the Dursleys who'd hated him and who were dead because of it, for Snape himself, for all that he'd endured…

When he had no voice left to scream, the stone in his chest was still just as heavy. He gasped for a moment, regaining his breath, and an arm came to gently wrap around him.

Before he had time to think, he felt his muscles relax as he leant back against Snape. A moment afterwards, something damp dropped onto his hand, and Harry realized that he'd started to cry, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks, while the professor held him, pressed against him.

When the familiar hand came to rest on his forehead, the stone that was keeping him from breathing seemed to shatter into thousands of pieces, and Harry found himself sobbing despairingly against Snape's chest, while the man whispered comforting words in a low voice.

Part of him was horrified at the idea of crying this way, like a child, in front of the Potions master he'd so wanted to impress…but he couldn't find a way of stopping the hiccoughs shaking him, or the tears flooding down onto the wizard's shirt. But even more, another part of him was shouting for him to take advantage of this moment, of the warmth and comfort that Snape was offering him, of the sun, of his own weakness…to have someone to support him as he cried, just this once. To let out the pain, the despair and anguish, just his once.

Abandoning the effort to regain his composure, he gave himself up to the soft hum of words coming from the professor, his body still shaking with sobs that refused to quiet.

"There, it's going to be fine. It won't be easy, Harry, but you're not alone, I wouldn't leave you. It's probably not a big thing, but we're going to do our best, and in the end everything will be fine. At the least, I promise you that."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced that everything would turn out fine. But it was enough for him to do his best, and if Snape promised to be there, well…

The tears still flowed, but he was fairly certain now that most of them were tears of relief.

The sun had almost set by the time the boy's sobbing finally subsided, with one last hiccough. For an instant, Severus stopped rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back, something he'd been doing for hours now, and bent over to see his face better.

Harry'd fallen asleep, exhausted by tears and emotion. His eyes were closed as he frowned in his sleep; Severus remained in place for a moment, rocking the boy without thinking.

He'd expected for Harry to end up by exploding, in one way or another, after all that'd happened to him since the beginning of the summer. The boy was perhaps stable, but no sixteen year old teenager could remain perpetually stoic in the face of such a deluge of calamities.

But as for what'd happened…Snape didn't know what he should think. He'd been able to feel Harry's emotions as he sifted through Snape's memories, while he saw the world through the Potions master's eyes. Confusion, of course, incomprehension, fear, and shame as well.  And above all, hope. Hope that he placed in him, Severus Snape.

If only things could've remained that simple, but he was going to have to answer questions, of course. He couldn't get out of it this time, not after Harry'd seen Lily and Petunia, James and Black.

Nor after he'd been able to experience the way Snape had lived through those things.

With a sigh, he began to get up, Harry in his arms. Even in his weakened state, he had no trouble carrying him. He should see that he ate more, even at Hogwarts. He remembered often seeing the boy leave a half-full plate. Every time he was shaken or upset, in fact.

Snape shook his head. Harry needed to be watched over. It was time for someone to decide once and for all to take care of the boy, starting with his eating habits, his clothes, and Merlin, his bedtimes, if one were to believe the number of times he'd found him wandering the corridors!

He slowly made his way toward the dungeon, regretting not being able to cast a sleeping spell to keep Harry asleep. But the boy seemed too exhausted to awaken anyway.

Clenching his jaw, Severus laid him carefully in the chair, before swallowing down a Pepperup potion.

Then, with a quick motion, he transformed the chair into a bed again, straightening the boy out and covering him with a blanket. Placing his glasses on the small table to the side, Severus turned to his cauldrons again.

He'd need another potion if he wanted to have enough magic to finish his work, as he was unable to cast the smallest spell without a battery of potions to sustain him. Actually, in this condition he was almost a Squib.

Refusing to allow himself to be discouraged, the professor quickly swallowed down the contents of several phials, shooting one last look at the sleeping boy. He really seemed younger like this, traces of tears still visible on his cheeks.

To think the little devil had managed to Legilimize him without a wand or incantation. Once again, felt a wave of pride wash over him. He had to teach Harry how to control himself, though; that scenario should've never happened—not with himself nor anyone else. It'd taken Snape a long time to accept that this ability, used indiscriminately, could be a curse. Complete truth wasn't always a good thing to possess, and Legilimency carried a price of its own.

At this memory, Severus absentmindedly rubbed at his temples. Yes, he was going to have many things to explain to the boy…many more than he'd have liked.

What if, after that, Harry decided that he couldn't trust the Potions master anymore? Or even talk to him, or want to spend time with him?

A completely uncharacteristic tugging at his heart strings made the wizard shudder. It didn't matter; he had a promise to keep. Even if the boy didn't want to have anything more to do with him, he'd take care of him in his own way.

Like he had before, in short. It would be just another year at Hogwarts.

Snape shook his head, frustrated.

No, certainly not. Lily hadn't wanted to listen to him, and Snape, for his part, had never been able to bring himself to talk to her, not like he should've done. But he wasn't seventeen now, and he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He'd take the time and energy required, because he was in this to the end, and wouldn't let Harry pull away like Lily. Merlin, not now.

Without thinking, Snape began to look for a calming potion, before stopping himself. He didn't hurt anywhere just now, and his hands weren't trembling from any secondary effects of Cruciatus, so why the bloody hell would he need a potion?

Because he was nervous, he realized. Anxious. Troubled. Severus Snape…anguished, the thought drifted slowly through his mind.

By burying certain things, there where they ought to have remained, fifteen years in the past, he'd also caused others to rise to the surface. One way of seeing things, perhaps. One way of living.  Or was that just living?

Snape caught himself laughing softly and disconcertedly. Almost bereft of powers, and now a new sentimental vision of the world. Voldemort had no need to try and kill him after all. Snape was going to manage that very well on his own.

A bitter smile on his face as he stirred a potion in the cauldron, Severus felt his neck bristle with a familiar sensation. He turned around toward the bed, and was unsurprised to see the green eyes staring at him.

"How do you feel?" he calmly asked.

The eyes didn't blink, and the boy's face remained immobile

Severus took three potions from the table, and went to sit beside Harry. "Drink these."

The boy obeyed without looking away for even an instant.

"Is that better?"

His answer was a rapid blinking of eyes. The two wizards remained still for a long moment, faces unmoving, their eyes riveted on one another.

Then Severus got up unhurriedly from his chair, and headed for the same small cupboard near the fireplace, where he'd asked Dumbledore to go for potions. Manipulating a stone as he murmured a quick incantation, he lifted the board that served as the bottom, then lifted out a wooden box embossed with leather, which he stroked with his palm.

A box to contain potions didn’t surprise Harry; a serviceable cask made of rough wood, unadorned. But this one was different…the mahogany glittered gold in the firelight, and the curved lines of the box, its delicate inlays, stood out in contrast to the angular man holding it.

Carrying the cask as if it were something precious and fragile, Snape returned and took his place beside Harry, who hadn't moved. His movements were neutral, his bearing deliberately relaxed, but Harry could sense that the moment was a solemn one.

The professor opened the box sitting atop his knees, and Harry had to fight the urge to crane his neck to see what was inside.

Trying to keep his expression unreadable, Snape lifted a piece of paper from the box and handed it to the boy.

For a second, Harry thought his heart had stopped beating. A photo…it was an old black-and-white Muggle photo, and despite the absence of color, it only took him an instant to recognize the two children there, perched upon a fence, one of them laughing, the other smiling with uncertain eyes. Lily and Snape. They couldn't have been more than ten, and were posed like two Muggle children on a summer day.

Without thinking, Harry took the photo the professor was handing him, and then sat up to better look at it.

Yes, there wasn't any doubt, even if ten years had passed between this photo and the ones he had in his album; he could easily recognize his mother, her long red hair blowing in the wind, her smiling, soft face lit up with laughter. And Snape…how could he be so similar to and yet at the same time so different from the man sitting beside him, watching his reaction?

The little boy watching Harry's mother seemed torn between the joy of her company and his obvious discomfort at the presence of the camera. His hair was longer than it was now, and framed his face, giving him a closed-off look that contrasted with the open expression of the little girl at his side. But all the affection and admiration the boy had for Lily could be seen in his eyes as he watched her.

Snape and Lily as children. It was surreal.

With his hand, Snape pointed to the photo. "That was taken the summer before we left for Hogwarts," he explained in a measured tone. "It was your grandfather who wanted to take it, so that we'd have a souvenir of the house when we were away. I think this is the only Muggle photo I've ever owned."

"You knew my grandfather?" Harry asked, shocked.

Snape nodded. "He was a good man. Your grandmother as well. I stayed to dine with them sometimes when Lily and I got home late. They were aware that my family situation was a bit…oppressive. They were always very generous to me; their deaths probably affected me as much as that of my own parents. They were murdered the very same day, actually, and for the same reason. Lily was inconsolable.

Harry only stared at him, his eyes wide, his mouth half-open.

"We lived in the same neighborhood as children. You mother didn't know she was a witch until I told her. I must say that the revelation didn't have the effect I'd anticipated," he said with a slight smile.

"But over time, we became friends. Very good friends. We left together for Hogwarts, where we continued to spend time together. Our friendship wasn't well-received, of course…her in Gryffindor, myself in Slytherin. That didn't keep us from studying together, and remaining friends, at least at the beginning. As time went on, things changed. We grew up, and formed other friendships, each in our own circles. Her with your father and his cohorts, and me…with other Slytherins," he said simply.

"What you saw in the Pensieve," he continued after a moment. "I think that was the beginning of the end. She forgave me that time. But she'd understood…when I asked her to forgive me, she listened, and begged me to break off all contact with Voldemort's followers. For a while, everything was fine…we became close again, more than we'd ever been before. Up until the day when the Death Eaters decided it was time to put me back on the right path. When I refused to follow them, they took drastic measures. That's the day your grandparents and my parents were murdered, in the same attack."

Harry let out a gasp of shock. Eyes bulging, he couldn't speak a word, incapable of even making his brain work.

Snape nodded. Harry thought he could see a hint of fear in the somber eyes as he began to speak again.

"And yes…it was because of me that your grandparents died, Harry. They would've no doubt taken you in when your parents died…also dead because of me, by the way." He took a deep breath before going on.

"After that, I understood that Lily was no longer safe. I distanced myself abruptly. When she wanted to come to me, I pushed her away. When she told me she loved me…I laughed in her face. I told her I'd never want to have anything to do with a Mudblood, and I let her go, crying.

"And then, when my position with the Dark Lord was cemented, I thought that it was time to go back and find her, that she was no longer at risk, and that she'd be proud of me. Yes, proud of me…  That time, she was the one to laugh. She didn't try to listen to me, and I certainly can't blame her for that. If I'd had the courage to tell her, perhaps…but I didn't, and she went off with James. We left Hogwarts, her on the arm of your father, myself with the Mark on my own. We'd both chosen our fates. A few years later, I sealed both theirs and yours, without knowing it…until afterward.

He waved his hand in the air. "Nothing has ever been the same."

Severus leant back in his chair, feeling even emptier than after having cast his last Protego. How long had it been since he'd last recalled all of that? No, he corrected himself. He'd quite simply never done it. He'd reported the essential facts to Dumbledore, but he'd never spoken of Lily in this way.

And now her son was looking at him, mouth hanging open, confusion filling his eyes.

Resigned, Snape endured his gaze. He waited for the anger to come, then the hatred, perhaps sadness, pain, and betrayal…

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then Harry abruptly closed his mouth, only to open it again. "But she came back, didn't she?"

"Came back?" Snape asked uncertainly.

"She's who I saw…in your memories…at the cemetery, she came to help me. Help us."

Severus didn't know exactly if it was the mention of Lily's ghost or the 'us' that Harry'd just used, but he had trouble swallowing before he continued. "Yes, she came back for you…as well as your father and Black. They were probably the ones who gave you the gift of your new Animagus powers."

"Really? You're sure about that? That makes sense…" the boy murmured.

"There's nothing certain, but the Headmaster shares this opinion."

"I don't have any memory of them…just what I hear when the Dementors are around. My mother screaming, trying to save me."

Snape nodded. "I don't know if this will help you…but my memories are at your disposal."

With those words, he held the open box out to the boy, who took hold of it with a trembling hand, with the same reverence that the professor had demonstrated as he handled it.

Harry held his breath as he lowered his eyes to look into the box.

Photos, he saw immediately, and letters too… and a few objects lying at the bottom of the box like forgotten treasures.

"This was my mother's?" he asked breathlessly.

"The cask was. I'd made it for her, one summer…she returned it to me just before her marriage."

His eyes were far away now, lost in his memories, Harry didn't doubt.

"Did you love her?"

The tone of voice was too indifferent, too innocent. But Severus answered all the same.

"More than anything."

"And you never told her that, did you?"

Snape smiled slightly, bitterly. "Of course not."

"Because Death Eaters never say things like that?" Harry asked in a challenging voice.

"Not to a Mudblood, no," Snape replied.

"Don't call my mother that," Harry muttered.

Once again, that pained, small smile.

Gritting his teeth, the boy picked up a random photo. A wizarding photo this time, and in it, one could see the same children, a bit older now, on the banks of the Hogwarts' lake. Both of them were laughing this time, and Harry thought that he'd never seen this expression on the adult version of Snape.

In the photo, he seemed to be about thirteen, and was standing in water up to his knees, soaked from head to foot, splashing a hysterically laughing Lily trying to shied herself. Both of them were in shirts and trousers, the colors of their respective Houses clearly evident in the color photo.

It was nice weather, and they both seemed happy. It was almost easy to imagine the scene: a Saturday afternoon in the spring, they must've been talking as they neared the lake, and suddenly, Lily got that little mischievous gleam in her eyes, and had pushed Severus into the water, bursting into laughter as she watched him get up again, soaking wet. He'd held out a hand for her to help him up, but instead of grabbing it, he'd retaliated, splashing her in turn, while Lily laughed even harder.

So, who then, could've taken this photo?

"McGonagall," Severus answered his unspoken question, making Harry startle.

"Dumbledore had just given her a camera, and she spent her time taking photos of everything that moved…or not. A veritable curse for many couples at Hogwarts that year. But she was tactful enough to give all the photos she took to her victims."

"You…you were dating?" Harry asked.

"Not at the time, no. We were just friends…it was only after the episode you saw in the Pensieve that things changed."

Now it was Harry's turn to swallow hard, as he replaced the photo into the box.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, their eyes lost in the contemplation of the bit of sky that the window let in.

"I'm sorry," Severus finally said wearily.

Harry forced himself to meet his eyes. "I saw them, you know. My parents and Sirius, when I was a prisoner at Malfoy Manor."

Snape looked at him impassively.

"They…told me I'd disappointed them. That they were dead because of me, and that it hadn't been worth it. That they regretted being my…" He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

"Harry, they came back for you. Without their intervention, I would've never been able to get us out of the cemetery, let alone get you away from Voldemort. They love you, Harry, much more than you know…"

"They did it so I can finish whatever I have to do, what everyone's waiting for me to do. But they're angry with me, I know it, they told me so…."

It was Snape's turn to shake his head in frustration. "Harry, you don't seem to realize. To accomplish what they did, your parents and Black summoned up all the love they had for you, all their desire to protect you and save you. There was nothing calculating about it; they did it for you, and for you only. That scenario you saw, where they told you… I know I'm not mistaken in telling you that it was certainly all an act on the part of Lucius and Bellatrix. Lily would've never said such a thing, let along thought it. And your father….would've been very proud of you, Harry. Truly very proud."

Was it all in his mind, or had Snape's voice become husky as he said those last words? Harry wondered. But what he'd just said had made sense. If the episode in Dumbledore's office had never taken place, nor the one at the Dursleys'…then certainly this one could equally have been a macabre act as well.

And yet….

"I saw you, you as well. Just before they came…you were with Voldemort. Did that really happen, I saw it in your memories…"

Snape nodded. "I seemed to see you, that's correct. Or rather your eyes, Lily's eyes. I was looking desperately for a way to get you out of there, but I had no other choice but to wait."

"I know," Harry said gently.

Snape let out a low groan. Clearly, Harry knew. He'd seen the scene through Snape's own eyes just several hours ago.

"Are you upset with me?" the boy asked.

Disconcerted, Snape sighed. "Where to begin? No, Harry, I'm not cross with you…I think I'm right in saying that you weren't trying to break into my mind?

The boy shook his head sheepishly. "I wanted to understand …but not that way. I don't know how I was able to do that."

"Voldemort is an expert in Legilimency. You've most likely acquired a brand new mastery of this power. It's sometimes difficult to control; we'll work on that. Until then, I'd appreciate it if you'd do your best to see that this sort of situation doesn't happen again."

Harry nodded his head, stunned. After Snape's reaction when Harry'd looked at the contents of his Pensieve, he'd expected an explosion over this new transgression...but was this so surprising, that there wasn't one? Because things had changed between the two of them as well; he'd had a front row seat to see into the professor's mind. The wizard was attached to him, and to Shadow, and anyway….

"When my mother carried me to you, at Godric's Hollow, after the cemetery, she said something to you…"

Snape nodded slowly. "She asked me to take care of you."

Which isn't entirely correct, the Potions master thought. But not completely false either. Even if Harry needed to hear certain things, it was much too soon to tell him that Lily wanted Harry to be with Snape.. The boy was still much too upset to know what to make of this sort of revelation.

"I'm sorry," Harry suddenly let out.

"Harry," Snape sighed, "it rather seems that it is I who owes you an apology…but so be it, enlighten me, what are you sorry for?"

"You really don't have any more power, do you?"

Snape felt his jaw clench. "Of course I do. My magic is simple weakened just now, and I'll have to rely on potions to preserve a sufficient store of it, but my powers will increase, bit by bit, over time."

"Like with Voldemort," murmured the boy.

"Yes, like with Voldemort," Snape confirmed.

A long silence settled between them. At the end of the room, a cauldron bubbled, a peaceful sound in the quiet of the dungeon.

"Do you think I look like my mother?" Harry asked abruptly.

"Certainly," Snape replied.

"And my father?"

"As well."

"Whom do I resemble most?" the boy insisted.

"Neither in particular—you're fully your own person, and it was hard to see you otherwise…once past my initial prejudices," Snape said.

"Your initial…" Harry murmured.

"Those first years—perhaps I should say," the professor answered softly.

"You hated me because of my father, isn't that right? And now you accept me, thanks to my mother…"

"Harry, it's not that simple," Snape said as he sat up straighter. "It's true that your resemblance to your father, what you stood for, clouded my judgment up until this summer. I really don't have any excuse, except that I didn't want to think of the past anymore, and your arrival forced me to, in a way. But you're the one who's made me change my mind, not Lily…."

"Me, or Shadow?" Harry asked with a hint of challenge in his voice.

"I assume it was Shadow at the start," Snape admitted. "But strangely, I remember often thinking that Shadow looked a great deal like you, even before knowing…"

"You're a spy; I imagine you're used to noticing everything."

Snape nodded. "Whatever the case, you're the one I care about  now. And I'll repeat what I've already said: I'll always be there to help you, Harry."

"Always?" the boy asked.

"As long as you have need," Snape promised.

"It's weird, isn't it? All of this…you, being here…I don't know if it's really sunk in yet…"

"No, I imagine not," said the Potions master. "But I hope that'll come with time."

"Time? Term starts at Hogwarts tomorrow. I can't say I'm really in a hurry to be back in Potions class…" Harry murmured.

"Harry, I'm not going to claim that my attitude was entirely dictated by my role as Voldemort's spy…but a great many of my personal attacks toward you were acts for the Death Eater children present. I no longer care about any of that now, and I'm the first to feel relieved," Snape said.

"That's a bit flippant…" Harry let loose, before abruptly looking away.

Severus found himself feeling more wounded by the remark than he would've believed. It was totally deserved, however…

"I apologize for that as well."

The words slipped out almost naturally, and he wasn't entirely certain of having planned to say them. Simply astonishing, and astonishingly easy to say…

It would seem that Harry was just as shocked to hear them; he stared at Snape, wide-eyed. "No, I…you didn't…" the boy stopped. "Yes," he continued slowly, "I suppose you could say that. It's not as if nothing ever happened. But I feel bad, saying that to you after all you've done for me. I mean…things have changed."

"Certainly," Snape answered, "but that doesn't in any way excuse the mistakes of the past. I simply hope they won't keep you from accepting my help."

"No," Harry said. "After all, you're…"

He shrugged. "I trust you."

Snape smiled at him slightly.

Harry held the wooden cask out to him reluctantly. "Could I see it again later? I'd like to look at the other photos, but…not all at once. If it's all right?" the boy asked, full of hope.

But Snape pushed the box back toward him. "It's yours, keep it. Try to take care of it…"

Harry was stunned speechless for a moment. "I can't accept…it's yours, these are your souvenirs!"

"Most of these things belonged to your mother. They're rightfully yours," Snape answered gently.

"But you won't have anything left of hers…."

"You are here; that will always be the best souvenir of Lily I could have. I know these photos and letters by heart, Harry; I won't miss them," said the professor.

Harry didn't know what to say, but the lump in his throat kept him from speaking anyway.

Snape apologizing and giving him is photos of Lily. Talking to him as if he…as if he…

With shaking hands, Harry placed the cask beside him. He would've liked to have been able to tell him, explain to him…but explain what? That he didn't know what to make of things anymore, that he needed him, that he was afraid as well, that his powers frightened him, that he felt like a tightrope walker toeing a taut wire…

But he couldn't. And not only because of the lump in his throat. It was all simply too, too much for him, too much for the moment…

Everything was jumbled up in his head, to the point of becoming a black, indistinct mass, and when he opened his eyes again a moment later, the room was bathed in soft light, and things were suddenly much simpler and clearer.

The Man In Black was there in front of him, and the fire was pleasantly warming his fur, and it was a fine day. He fell to his back, rubbing his fur against the coverlet to mark his territory.

He was home.

***

Severus Snape watched the clearly contented cat rolling on the coverlet, like any other pet cat would've done. The contrast with the boy's pained expression of just a few moments ago was bothersome.

"Harry?" he tried.

The cat didn't react.

"Harry Potter?"

The cat raised its head at his voice, but it was obvious that it hardly cared.

"Harry, if you understand, I'd like you to transform back again."

The cat rubbed its paw against its head without paying him any attention.

"Shadow?" Snape said with a sigh.

This time, the green eyes questioningly sought out Snape's.

Severus leant back in his chair. This time, it was conclusive. There wasn't any possible doubt, and their conversation of just minutes ago hadn't changed a thing.

He'd expected it, obviously. Otherwise, it would've been too simple…

The Potions master got up and threw a handful of Floo powder into the grate. "Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts."

Sticking his head and chest into the flames, he glanced around the familiar office. The Headmaster was there, quill in hand, looking up at him, his eyes full of kindness.

"Severus, I didn't think to see you so soon! Come in, come in!"

"Thank you, Albus, but that won't be necessary. I just wanted to alert you that Potter and myself will be late for the start of term at Hogwarts."

His statement was met by a long silence. "And how late will you be?" Dumbledore finally asked.

"At the very least, two days. I'm sorry, Albus, but Harry is still too fragile, and I don't want to leave him alone. I'll do what I can to meet the Slytherins tomorrow evening after the Sorting Ceremony, but I cannot promise you anything."

"You're taking your role as protector very seriously, my boy…" Albus began.

"I take my position as Head of House just as seriously, but Harry needs me more than my students just now. I'm sure you can understand that," Snape retorted.

"My remark certainly wasn't a criticism," Dumbledore said with a conciliatory gesture. "You both need time to get back on your feet, which I understand completely. I'll take care of your Slytherins, Severus, have no fear. I hope, though, that your absence won't be for too long…we need you, and I'm sure Harry'd like to see his friends."

"That's part of the problem, Albus," Snape explained. "He's still not convinced they're alive. He's still having trouble putting together all that's happened…and what never really happened. Best to take these things a step at a time. I suggest that Weasley and Granger come to the Manor to see Harry first, when he's well again."

"Well again? I'd somehow had the impression that our young friend was progressing nicely under your influence, Severus," Dumbledore said, surprised.

"Albus, just a few days ago, he was in Voldemort's clutches. Don't ask too much of him. Even heroes must break down from time to time, and yours is only a teenager."

The little sparkle in the Headmaster's eyes had brightened at the word 'hero', but Severus didn't bat an eye. "And what's become of the symbol, Severus, the weapon you didn't want to abandon?"

"A cat," the Potions master replied laconically. "If you have nothing else to tell me...?"

"Nothing else, Severus," the Headmaster said in a jovial voice. "Other than to thank you, and tell you to take care of yourself…and your cat."

With a growl, Snape pulled out of the fireplace. Why was it that Dumbledore always had to have the last word?

"Very well, Potter, just the two of us," he said as he turned toward the cat. "Shadow—Harry, look at me. I want your undivided attention. You-are-not-a-cat," he hammered out. "You are an Animagus: uncontrolled, illegal, come from who knows where, but an Animagus all the same."

The cat listened attentively, its big green eyes full of curiosity.

"Potter," Snape began. "Harry," he sighed, "why do I have the feeling that I've seen this expression on your human face before? And more precisely, during Potions class, when you feigned great interest in the lesson, all the while planning strategy for the next Quidditch match?"

The cat hung its head, seeming to concentrate.

"Yes, exactly like that," Snape murmured. Quidditch. This was the thought Harry attached himself to in order to resume his human form. He had to use it.

"You remember, Harry, Quidditch? Flying through the air, avoiding Bludgers, capturing the Snitch?"

Severus groaned at his own lack of enthusiasm. It most likely wasn't the best way to summon up memories…

An idea suddenly flashed through his mind. Dumbledore had left him the things he'd recovered from Harry's Muggle family, his class things, some clothing…and the birthday gifts he'd just received           !

With the hint of a smile, Severus made the boy's trunk appear in front of him. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. With a quick move, he threw the miniature broom into the air, a gift from the youngest Weasley boy.

The little broom began to circle around them, clearly searching for where to go.

Snape noticed that Shadow, as if hypnotized, intently followed its comings and goings. A good start, he thought; perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult after all. It was a matter of finding the right triggers…

He felt his heart jump in his chest when the cat got up to head after the flying broom.

"That's good, Harry, look at it, you remember?" he encouraged the cat.

The cat looked at him briefly, before returning its attention to the broom. Then, crouching, it launched itself at the object, trapping it agilely between its paws, before nailing it to the floor and gnawing at it, its eyes glowing with satisfaction. It lost its concentration for a moment as it heard the groan that the Potions master let out, and the little broom used this chance to once again take to the air, spinning around the tomcat.

Ignoring the Man In Black, the cat took off across the room in wild pursuit, Snape's disconcerted eyes following it.

This wasn't at all what he'd expected. He would've liked to believe that these were Harry's Seeker reflexes at work, but seeing the quintessentially feline jumps of the cat, he doubted it.

Quite simply a young cat at play.

And could he be upset with Harry? Shadow didn't seem worried about anything but his cat life; it would seem he was happy and carefree, while Harry was struggling to find his sense of equilibrium after the trials he'd just had to live through.

If he himself had been able to transform into a cat…  Getting a grip on himself, Severus raised his wand. "Accio miniature broom."

The broom crossed the room to come to rest in his hand. A bit begrudgingly, the cat trotted to him, and jumped onto the chair again.

"Well, so much for Quidditch. Clearly, it will perhaps require…" The terribly vivid image of himself perched on his broom with a black cat on his shoulder flitted through his mind; he shook his head as he made a disgusted face. This wasn't Salem, by Merlin, and he strongly doubted that this sort of experience would help them much!

 Lacking conviction, he opened Harry's trunk. He loathed ransacking through the boys' belongings, and for some reason, he doubted the solution would be there.

It wasn't the positive parts of Harry's life that would make the boy come back to himself, but it was the darkest periods that were going to keep him from doing so.

Severus tapped his check with his finger. He'd known he'd end up approaching it this way. The solution was truly extreme, and he would've dearly loved to be able to avoid it, but he was only losing time by hesitating.

Tensing his jaw, he threw another handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, and stuck his head into the flames.

***

Shadow never ceased to be amazed by the Man In Black's abilities. He could capture the little flying broom with a single gesture from the other end of the room, and he went through flames as if they weren't even there!

His admiration for the wizard knew no bounds. A light purring in his throat, he fell onto the jumper. If he'd just give him something to eat, he'd be completely content!

The Man In Black pulled his head from the flames, then his black eyes moved to locate the cat's. They seemed darker now, his expression resigned and his teeth clenched.

"Listen to me well, Harry. I was hoping to be able to put this off until later, but it'd be a mistake to let this situation go on. You're probably not going to like what's about to happen, at least initially, and believe me, you will certainly not be the only one. Try not to distance yourself, and no nonsense. Ah. I don't know. Try…to be yourself."

Slightly worried, Shadow looked at him, his head cocked to the side. The Man In Black's tone of voice clearly told him that this was a critical moment.

Stepping out with determination, Snape went to the cat and took it in his arms. Everything was arranged; he couldn't back out now. Throwing a handful of Floo powder, he enunciated once again, "The Burrow!" and dashed into the flames, the cat pressed against his chest.

An outing to the Weasleys. Merlin preserve him…

The Burrow's tiny kitchen had always struck him as the most abominably friendly and disorganized place he'd ever seen. Each time an emergency meeting had taken place here, he'd felt more uncomfortable in the family décor than in the Malfoy dungeons.

The sensation began again as soon as he saw Molly Weasley trotting toward them, when they'd scarcely entered the room.

"Severus, Harry, I'm so happy to see you! Come in!"

The Potions master felt Shadow tense against him, so he forced himself to assume a more relaxed attitude. He was there to reassure Harry, so it was senseless to add to his anxiousness.

Mrs. Weasley was already coming over to pet the cat, and Snape saw panic get the better of the animal.

"Molly, it'd be better not to rush things. Harry isn't entirely himself just now," he said to the woman, who pulled back, disappointed.

"Of course, of course…where would you like to start? A tour of the house, perhaps? I asked Arthur and the children to stay outside for now; they were a bit upset, actually." She nervously twisted the tea towel in her hands. "Oh, it's so frustrating…we'd hoped to take Harry for part of the summer; but of course, after all that's happened, it's a wonderful thing that he was able to stay with you, Severus. We're all very grateful to you."

"Molly," Snape interrupted. "Could you try to act naturally? The reason for this visit is to convince Harry that no one is dead, and believe me, that isn't clear at all, just to listen to you!"

For an instant, Mrs. Weasley seemed torn between indignation and guilt, before taking refuge in more familiar territory. "Would you like a spot of tea? Some milk for Harry?"

"He doesn't take milk, but a cup of tea would be welcome," Snape agreed as blandly as he could.

Leaving Molly to busy herself at the stove, he tried to set Shadow on the floor, but the cat didn't have the least intention of leaving his Man In Black.

Heart racing, he clung desperately to the wizard's black robes. This place didn't suit him, and the woman who talked nonstop seemed particularly nervous.

Agile fingers detached his claws from the fabric, and he found himself standing on the paved floor of the kitchen, examining the room with caution as he searched for potential threats.

The roomed seemed somehow familiar…a smell, perhaps, an uncertain quality that gave him an impression of comfort and wellbeing, despite the tension filling the room.

But something was going on here, something that had nothing to do with the décor…

Shivering, he went to take cover between the Man In Black's legs. Whatever occurred, he knew the man wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, but he also knew that the anxiety filling him wasn't coming from an outside threat.

He heard the sound of voices, coming from a different time.

The cat shook its head. The only sound filling the room just now was that of the conversation between his Man In Black and the woman with the lively gestures. Still, he could almost see the shadows of silhouettes around the table, pale ghosts that left his stomach in knots and his mouth dry, without him knowing why.

Without thinking, he jumped to the Man In Black's knees.

"Well, Severus," said Molly Weasley, dumbfounded, "it seems that Harry is very used to you!"

"For now, it's just a matter of the cat's personality. He's much more outgoing in this form, even though our relationship has indeed changed in recent weeks," the Potions master replied.

"After all that's happened, I don't doubt it. Do you think he recognizes the house?"

"It's possible. But he certainly doesn't realize it completely," said Snape.

"Should I have the children come in?" Molly asked, clearly ill-at-ease.

Severus hesitated for a moment. Shadow was slightly shaking, probably from memories trying to come to the surface again. Reluctantly, he agreed. As painful as it was, they had to see it through to the end.

"Only your youngest boy and Miss Granger, to start off. You've brought them up to speed on the situation?"

Molly nodded sadly. "They know that Harry won't recognize them right away, and that they should take care not to rush him. To be honest, I'm counting on Hermione to keep Ron from being too enthusiastic!"

"Indeed, that would be more sensible. Can your kitchen withstand a possible feline escape attempt?"

"That shouldn't pose a problem," said Mrs. Weasley. "Should I call the children?"

"Please." While she went to the window, Snape stood from his chair and once again placed the cat on the floor.

"Stay calm. You've nothing to fear here; I just want you to do your best to remember who you are; let your memories guide you," he murmured.

An instant later, the door opened and two teenagers silently entered the kitchen. Molly must've truly lectured them before their arrival, because they appeared nervous and uncertain, not daring to make a move.

For once, Snape doubted that he was the cause of it.

As for the cat, it pressed against his leg, watching the new arrivals distrustfully.

"Hullo, Harry!" Hermione finally said, putting a knee on the floor so she could be at the cat's level.

"It's really nice to see you, mate," Ron added hesitantly.

Shadow flicked his ears, but nothing indicated that he recognized them. He didn't appear to be as bothered as Severus had feared, though, so he took a step farther away from him.

"Molly, I think it'd be best if I go somewhere else," he said evenly.

"Of course. I'll go to the sitting room with you," Mrs. Weasley said. With a glance of warning toward the two teenagers, she opened the door and followed Snape out, leaving the three friends alone in the kitchen.

The door had scarcely closed when Ron let out a groan of relief. "Really, Harry, I don't know how…are you all right? He's not done anything to you? Snape, I mean, is he treating you well?"

The cat crouched down, its ears flattened. His Man In Black had left him alone, so did that mean he had nothing to fear from these two humans? He didn't like this.

"Ron, that's enough! You know very well that Professor Snape saved Harry!"

"That doesn't necessarily mean he's nice to him; he'd already saved his life in first-year—that didn't keep him from being nasty afterward!" the boy retorted.

As the dispute continued, Shadow's head was a jumble of thoughts. On the one hand, he was fairly persuaded that the two humans were saying bad things about his Man In Black, and that was making him furious. On the other hand… these voices and this conversation had a familiar ring that he couldn't quite put his finger on; it made him think vaguely of a different place, with long corridors, a fire, and for some inexplicable reason, the colors red and gold.

The more the sensations bombarded him inside his head, the more he felt his heart race and his breathing spiral out of control. Where was the Man In Black? He needed him, he wanted to go home…he shouldn't be here, the two humans shouldn't have found him here…it wasn't normal…

"He doesn't seem in that great a shape to me," the boy continued.

"Obviously, Ron, you're doing this on purpose, by Merlin! Harry was with Voldemort only a few days ago!" the young girl answered, appalled.

Harry… The Man In Black…he too had called him that, as if he'd expected something by calling him by that name.

"I don't trust him, that's all! Look at Harry, he doesn't even recognize us!"

"That's exactly why we're here, and you're not helping much!"

"Who knows, maybe this isn't even the same cat!"

"Oh, enough," the girl groaned. "Harry, I'm sorry, all of that's so ridiculous.  We were terribly worried, you being kidnapped right after what'd just happened, it was really horrible! Is there something we can do for you?"

Her voice was shaking now, and new images came to flit through the cat's head. She cried often, didn't she? This human was rather emotional…the boy, on the other hand….

"Hermione, he can't understand you," Ron said as he slid his arm around her shoulders.

…the boy was in love with her. Amusing.

"He understood us fine at Grimmauld Place," she sniffled.

"That was different, 'Mione," the boy tried to console her.

"Oh, you still have your necklace, Harry!" Hermione remarked.

The necklace. He knew this word; they were talking about the silver thing around his neck. Sometimes he scratched at it, but he liked to feel it there; it was comforting…

This time a much clearer image than the ones before insinuated itself into his mind, and Shadow had to sit down under the force of the shock.

The necklace. The girl. He was perched on a chair, in a different room, and the human, her eyes wet, was telling him how happy she was that the necklace had helped him. And he'd not been afraid of her; on the contrary, he'd gone closer and placed a paw on her face, and had rubbed against her….

The necklace. The bracelet…a letter, an envelope, an owl; he knew that window, he'd fled through its bars. It was she, the girl who'd sent…the bracelet. He'd put it on his wrist…his what?

Suddenly seized with panic, the cat jumped back violently, until its back hit the wall. Just in front of him, the two teenagers were watching him, wide-eyed, stunned speechless.  His heart about to beat out of his chest, Shadow reflected their bewildered looks back to them. He shouldn't be there…they were…they….

This entire place shouldn't be here! The images were all mixed together in his head; a smoking ruin, the scattered bodies, these same faces now watching him, covered in blood, eyes that were fixed and vacant…and despair, the unbearable despair that'd spread through him…

Panic-stricken, he took a single leap to the window ledge, throwing himself against the glass pane to break it, letting out a meow of distress. He had to get out of here immediately!

He heard someone open the door, and the human start to shout, "Professor! Professor Snape! Come quick!"

The sound of footsteps followed, and an instant later, the Man In Black appeared in the room, slamming the door behind him. Without hesitation, Shadow streaked toward him, jumping into arms that caught him in mid-air, before holding him against his black robes.

Safe…at last.

"It will be all right, Harry, calm yourself. Everything's fine. Look around you, everything is real, you understand? Let your memories come back…"

Despite himself, Shadow opened his eyes again and met those of the two teenagers watching him with their mouths hanging open. He'd seen those expressions before on those same two faces…and in the same circumstances: when they'd been surprised to see him go to the Man In Black. But that the time, things had been different.

And now, things were wrong, terribly unreal…because they should've never been there, watching him; they were dead, and this house had been destroyed!

This realization struck him full-force. They couldn't be there, that's what was wrong! But his wizard was there too, and he was very real….

He felt hands carefully pick him up and place him on the table. He turned to look at the Man In Black, and read the calm determination in his eyes. He had something to accomplish, and the wizard would be at his side, whatever happened.

The two young wizards stealthily approached the table and stayed there, unmoving, their faces full of hope and doubt.

Gathering all of his courage, Shadow crossed the table and got close enough to almost touch them, his body completely tense, ready to flee at the slightest sign of a threat.

But they didn't move; actually, they hardly seemed to breathe. H felt his heart pound even harder. They were still alive, then? They had to be! He'd promised….

Who? The Man In Black, surely, and someone else as well. They had to be real, this had to be the truth; so many things depended on it…and these people were…important. Very important.

With one last step, he was within reach of the redheaded boy. He stuck out his nose to sniff at his arm…his scent was familiar and, especially, alive. He could sense his warmth, hear the beating of his heart. He looked deeply into the boy's eyes, and felt something melt inside him at his kind, friendly expression.

With unsteady steps, he headed for the girl. Like he'd done in his memories, he placed a paw on her arm, and when she leant in toward him, instead of fleeing, he placed another black paw on her face. The bracelet. Hermione. Alive…so, Dumbledore had been right.

He would've liked to wrap them in his arms, explain to them, but he couldn't; the mixed-up emotions in the cat's head kept him from doing so.

Jumping to the floor, he turned to face Snape, then meowed softly. He saw the wizard smile with what strongly resembled pride, as he lifted his wand.

A moment later, a brown-haired tornado grabbed him around the neck, while Ron clapped him enthusiastically on the shoulder.

"Not a moment too soon, mate. A bit longer and we were going to get out the cat food for you!"

Harry smiled at them, suddenly not knowing what to say. "I…thanks, Hermione, the bracelet…I'll explain it to you later. You're really here, aren't you? And this is really the Burrow… Oh, Merlin. I've been so stupid, haven't I?"

"Much to the contrary, Harry," Snape said gravely. "You've just shown proof of remarkable analytical abilities…for a cat, certainly, but not any less valuable. Excellent work. My congratulations, Mr. Potter."

The boy graced him with a smile. Snape felt his heart constrict at the sight of that radiant face. They'd done it, this time. Harry was going to heal; he was going to have his friends back again, as well as his life. He wouldn't need Snape any longer, and would gradually pull away as he regained his self-confidence, like any other teenager his age.

Harry needed someone to watch out for him, yes. But he no longer needed an adult in his life. Snape'd come along much too late for that.

He still seemed so fragile there, his sparkling eyes a bit lost, joking animatedly with his friends.

"Severus," a voice said softly at his side. "Would you like more tea?"

He pulled himself from his thoughts to turn to Molly Weasley, who was watching him kindly.

"Gladly, thank you."

After all, Harry had some catching up to do with his friends…but he still seemed a bit uncertain, a pained spark flashing in his eyes from time to time. No need to prolong this session for too long; Harry had already made considerable progress, so he didn't have to push things too much.

"You've done excellent work, Severus," Molly said gently as she served him another cup of tea, and then sat beside him.

"He won't be ready for the start of term," Snape replied. "We'll arrive in a few days, if all goes well. He's not had enough time to recover."

"After all that's happened, no one's expecting that he'll be entirely the same, that much is clear," Molly agreed. "But given the circumstances…I find him remarkably serene. Much of that because of you, Severus. It's obvious that Harry trusts you, cat or human."

Snape nodded as he took a mouthful of tea. As much as he appreciated that Molly had noticed, he all of a sudden felt very protective of his relationship with Harry. That was solely his business, really, and the boy's, of course. But Harry appeared to be discussing other subjects, laughing with his friends over Merlin only knew what silliness.

Obviously relieved, the youngest Weasley boy came toward them.

"Mum, can I tell Fred and George to come in? They have things to show Harry!"

Molly opened her mouth to reply, but Snape interrupted her. "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but are going to have to go."

"Oh," Ron said disappointedly.

But seeing the gleam of relief that passed through Harry's eyes, Snape knew he'd made the right choice. Harry'd experienced enough emotion for today.

The boy said goodbye to his friends with a contrite smile.

"See you tomorrow, Harry!" Hermione said. "I suppose you'll be going directly to Hogwarts?"

"Um, I'm not sure…" Harry replied. He turned hesitantly toward Snape.

"We'll be a few days late. Not to worry, Miss Granger, you're soon be reunited with Harry."

Ron and Hermione nodded their heads regretfully.

"Well, see you later. Take care of yourself, mate," Ron said, with a furtive glance for Snape.

"Don't worry."

With that, Harry went, his steps sure and a happy smile on his face, to join Snape by the fireplace. Severus couldn't hold back the gesture that came to him spontaneously. Throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, he placed an arm around the boy's shoulders as they stepped calmly toward the grate.

And though he didn't miss the chorus of alarmed gasps behind him, Harry, on the other hand, let himself lean against the man, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

***

Home. They were home, Harry thought as he stepped into the laboratory. He liked the Burrow, and he'd been more than a bit relieved to see that it hadn't been destroyed, but this place…it was different.

He looked up to the professor, who'd reluctantly removed his arm from his shoulders.

"How do you feel?"

That question occurred often nowadays.

"Good. Thanks. Thanks…I mean, for everything. I'm still having trouble grasping it, but the fact of being able to see them and know they're alive.  It was really a relief. I think I was really apprehensive about seeing them again," he confessed.

"Nothing surprising about that," Snape agreed. "That confrontation was by necessity painful, especially in those circumstances. You really did well with it, Harry."
Then, a moment later, he added, "I'm proud of you."

Saying the words aloud had cost him, but he was rewarded when he saw the expression on Harry's face. Surprise at first, then a mixture of childish joy and intense relief, which lit up the boy's features.

There ensued a long, comfortable silence between them.

"I'm glad about not leaving tomorrow…" Harry finally murmured.

Snape nodded. "You'll need some time to be sure of mastering your transformations, and simply to be ready to go there."

"You're staying too?" Harry eagerly asked.

"A few days of rest won't do me harm. I'll still return, though, to visit the Slytherins after the Sorting Ceremony and have a look at them. If it doesn't bother you, you could wait for me in my office at Hogwarts."

Harry hesitated for an instant. "Could Ron and Hermione stay with me?"

Snape narrowed his eyes inquisitively. "So as not to be alone, or to ransack my office?"

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. And that was good, really good, he thought.

"Just so I can talk to them, Professor, really! Find out how the start of term went, and…what people are saying."

"About you?" Snape asked.

The boy nodded.

"Everyone will know, most likely. I think you suspect that already…" Severus said. "The newspapers have had it in the headlines since your disappearance, the day of your birthday. Harry Potter has disappeared, Harry Potter was taken by Voldemort…everything's been said, and then some, as usual. You'll hear more false rumors than actual facts, Harry. Don't forget that. People like to talk…"

"Is that why you don't want me to go back to Hogwarts right away?"

"In part," Snape admitted. "But that delay will create as many problems as it solves, though. Your friends and professors will have time to straighten out certain facts and dispel a few rumors, but your absence will spawn others. Nothing very amusing, in any case."

"And you? What have they said about you?"

Snape smiled somberly. "In the end, the Death Eater isn't one…or perhaps he is. Most people remain convinced that I worked for your loss. Only the sons of Death Eaters will be completely convinced of my innocence, or of my guilt, as it happens."

"And these are your students…" Harry murmured.

"Worse than that, these are my protégés. This year will probably be more difficult to manage than others, yes. But it's really not important. Never having to spy again is a huge compensation."

"Do they know that…that you're lodging me?" Harry asked, the implications of what Snape'd just told him becoming clearer and clearer.

"No, not at the moment," Snape answered, all the while staring at him with piecing eyes. "No one needs to know, Harry, so don't worry."

"That's not what I meant!" the boy protested. "I don't want…I mean, I'd like to stay in touch with you at Hogwarts, if that's all right with you, and I don't want to have to hide it."

It seemed to Harry that the Potions master's eyes became considerably warmer at these words.

"My door is always open, here as well as at Hogwarts," he said calmly and reassuringly.

Harry bit his lips. That wasn't exactly what he'd meant, but…it would have to do.

"I don't want to cause trouble for you either," Harry said at last.

"The only troubles that you'll most certainly cause me are the knowing looks that Dumbledore has already begun to send my way, and which risk spreading rapidly through the rest of the teaching staff. I think I can deal with that, however," Snape finished with a small sly smile.

"You…oh. I suppose I won't be spared that either. After five years spent insulting each other, it must look a bit strange to see us talking normally to each other," Harry said with a forced smile. "But I'll miss this place…the Manor, the laboratory especially. I really feel good here."

He sensed Snape tense at his words.

"You like the Manor?" he asked, as if he found the idea inconceivable.

Harry looked at him curiously. "Of course. It's peaceful, at least when Voldemot isn't trying to steal my powers. The park is huge, I like the view from my window and…I don't know. It's mostly the dungeon that I like." He shrugged. "It's the first place where I've ever felt at home, even if it was as a cat. But you can be sure I have no intention of marking my territory!"

Snape smiled at the joke, but Harry could tell that it was forced. Something in what he'd said had just upset the man.

"Your room, Harry, it will remain yours. Do what you like with it, change the décor, leave your things there, I won't meddle. Consider yourself at home."

The boy remained speechless, stunned.

"I can't accept, I mean, it's your home. I know very well that I'm not a cat, I simply meant…"

Snape stopped him with a hand. "Actually, Harry, this place belongs as much to you as to myself. I know you already have Grimmauld Place. Albus has perhaps not yet had the chance to tell you, but you've inherited all of Black's possessions. Be that as it may, whether you use it or not, that room will remain yours. I've enough empty rooms here; it will not cause a lack, believe me"

Harry shook his head. He wasn't sure he understood. Dumbledore had sent him a letter at the start of the summer, advising him that he was the legitimate owner of Grimmauld Place, but the house only held bad memories, and the shadow of a bitter and worn-out Sirius; he'd never thought to return there.

He'd never thought to return to the Manor after the hols either, but not for the same reasons.

"That won't put you out? I can do the cooking, you know, and everything you want me to…"

"I'd be glad to sample your cooking, but that's not necessary. You don't have to earn the right to come here. As I told you, this place belongs as much to you as to myself. More so, certainly…" Snape murmured.

Harry shook his head, dumbfounded. "I don't understand."

"Certainly not," Snape replied. "But it's truly beginning to get late; a good meal and night's sleep seem in order."

"And a shower," Harry added as he spied the state of his clothes.

Snape nodded. "Your list of school supplies is in my office; we'll make use of a trip to Diagon Alley to get them and buy you new clothing."

"That's perfect for wizarding robes, but I've never been able to find a single pair of decent jeans there…" Harry lamented.

"A trip to London as well, in that case," Snape said.

"You'll go with me?" Harry asked with a wide smile.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, Potter, if I went to look for you in Voldemort's lair, I can indeed escort you to a few clothing shops, fashionable amongst Muggle teenagers, Merlin help me!"

Despite the memories, the boy couldn't help bursting into laughter. "Wait until you get there before you say that!" Then he continued, "Thanks, Professor. Really."

"Severus."

"Excuse me?" Harry said, disconcerted.

"If you are to regularly come to stay in your room, best remember that I have a first name. An offer good only in this territory, Potter!" the professor said with a dark look.

"I…er…yes, of course, Professor…Severus!"

The Potions master gave him a little smile. "Not so easy, was it? Use it as you like. Really, Harry, however you feel most at ease."

The boy nodded, clearly still shocked.

A room. Severus. Did that mean that he was really home? Not only within these walls, but at Snape's side, and even after they were back at Hogwarts?

While the professor was preparing a meal with a few quick incantations, Harry let himself be cradled by the idea. A home. A family. Not just someone, he corrected himself, but someone who'd take care of him, and who wanted him there…not because he pitied him, or for what Harry stood for, but for himself, he recalled, as he remembered the memories he'd seen in Snape's mind.

He felt a smile appear at his lips, but not just at his lips, in truth. His entire face was all of a sudden more relaxed, and his eyes smiled as well. It had to be contagious, for when Snape…Severus turned to him to hand him a plate, he also began to smile, his expression almost serene.

They ate in front of the fire, not speaking. It wasn't necessary, Harry thought with a yawn; they were comfortably settled in their armchairs, basking in the warmth, and after this long day, they savored the pleasure of simply feeling good.

Well, and in good company.  Harry closed his eyes for an instant to engrave this moment in his memory. The crackling and warmth of the fire made him drowsy, little by little, and he didn't feel his chin fall to his chest, nor when the plate that was taken carefully from his hands.

He still had a slight smile on his lips when Severus took off his glasses, and he didn't even awaken when the Potions master took him in his arms for the second time that day, and carried him to his room.

His room, yes, thought Severus as he pulled the curtains. Hopefully it wouldn't remain an empty shell, a vague souvenir of his stay, after the boy returned to Hogwarts.

Pulling up the coverlets, Snape idly moved a strand of hair from the boy's forehead. It seemed to him that the boy had pressed his forehand into his hand a bit; but he himself was exhausted just now. Placing a few potions on the bedside table, he left with soft steps.

"Good night, Harry," he murmured.

And he gently closed the door on the boy who was still smiling.

The sun was shining, and a golden streak in the sky suddenly attracted his attention. The Snitch! Bent over the handle of his broom, he accelerated to the Firebolt's maximum speed; he could feel the wind in his hair and hear the roar from the stands as the Seeker of the opposite team tried to catch up to him. But it was too late; Harry was already reaching out a hand to capture the Snitch, his fingers closing around the precious object. Letting loose a shout of triumph, Harry raised his fist to the sky, before being joined by the rest of the ecstatic team.

Ron was laughing, his face red from shouting, and Ginny grabbed Harry around the neck, almost making him fall from his broom. The twins were there too, pounding him hard on the back. He could see Dumbledore and McGonagall in the grandstand, clapping enthusiastically. They'd just won back the Quidditch Cup!

The Gryffindors were exultant…but not only them; in the staff grandstand, Harry would see Snape, who'd stood up suddenly to salute his victory, and was applauding—certainly with more restraint, but with as much enthusiasm as the others, his eyes seeking out Harry's.

'Well-played,' Harry could read in them. Never had victory been so sweet; when had he ever had a parent there to congratulate him after a match? He returned the professor's smile and was ready to join him, when he saw Snape's face tense in fright. His hand moved to grip his left forearm, just over the Dark Mark. And under Harry's horrified eyes, Snape slowly began to fade away, his features twisting, his cry muffled by the noise of the crowd.

Harry wanted to run to him, but he couldn't extricate himself from the crush of his teammates. And no one seemed to notice that Snape had just disappeared! But everything suddenly became very calm, he observed, or rather very silent. The sky had suddenly changed to orange, and the people in the grandstands were immobile. He turned to look for Ron, and encountered his empty eyes, his much too pale face, just like everyone else around him. No, they weren't pale, they were dead, he realized in horror as he grabbed at Ginny's lifeless head, which had rolled onto his shoulder. Their haunted faces were turned toward him, but their eyes were slowly sinking into their sockets, while their cheeks caved in, their bodies slumping like rag dolls.

Snape, he had to find Snape—he'd know what to do! He couldn't let them die! He was at Hogwarts, bloody hell! But that wasn't entirely true, he realized; he was simply in the middle of a field of smoking ruins that had been Hogwarts…and bodies everywhere.

Snape, Severus, he had to come back, he would know… In front of him, from behind a curtain of smoke, a figure slowly came forward. He knew it well, he'd so often seen him in his dreams….

"Dad, please, I need help, help me to find him!"

"It'll be all right, Harry."

He was having difficulty coming closer, as if he were walking through thick mud.

"Dad, help me!"He couldn't make out his features, but the figure was so comforting that he had no doubt as to its identity.

"Harry, everything's all right, you're safe."

The gentle voice never failed to calm him, and he felt his body relax. The hand resting on his forehead was just as familiar, and Harry felt the nightmare lose its hold on him. With a deep breath, he half-opened his eyes.

Snape. He was at the Manor. Safe, yes, and not all alone.

Before he had time to thank the wizard, he fell back to sleep, a smile on his lips, his forehead pressed against the welcoming shoulder.

***

The first sensation that accosted him upon awakening was the familiar odor—a mixture of spices, the cloth of sheets, and gentle breathing. A comforting smell that was without a doubt tied to the Potions master.

Harry finally decided to open his eyes, and suddenly forgot to breathe: Merlin, he'd fallen asleep in Snape's arms!

Once again, he didn't remember having climbed the stairs to go to bed, and bloody hell, it was already embarrassing, to think that the professor had carried him there.

Wait a second. Embarrassing? As he thought of it…yes, a little. All the same, he was sixteen, he was a good dozen years past the age of being carried to bed! Not that anyone had ever carried him to bed, obviously, but now that he thought of it, there was nothing in any way appealing about being carried to a cupboard either…

On the other hand, the idea that Snape had done it…was a good one. Pleasant, like a cup of hot chocolate by the fire in winter.

As for falling asleep with Snape at his side…the professor was half-seated on the bed, with an arm around his shoulders, as if he'd comforted him in the middle of a nightmare.

Oh. The nightmare. Severus had probably come to him then, just like he'd most likely done on all those other nights. He'd never before stayed until morning, though.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turned slightly to try and see the Potions master's face without awakening him. One look at his drawn features was enough for Harry to understand. Snape had simply fallen asleep, exhausted, and hadn't had the chance to make it to his own room.

He seemed almost vulnerable this way, without his usual mask of impassivity. Less of a spy, and more of a wizard…but the spy didn't delay taking the upper hand again. Feeling himself being watched, Severus abruptly opened his eyes, meeting the green ones that haunted his dreams.

"Sleep well?" he asked with the most natural nonchalance he could muster. What the devil was he doing in Harry's room? Merlin, he must've fallen asleep when he'd come to comfort the boy in the middle of the night… A night's sleep spent partially seated on a bed, holding a teenager in his arms, was probably the last thing he needed, but at the very least, Harry seemed rested. Hopefully the teenager wouldn't be too embarrassed by the situation.

"I...I think so, yes," the boy replied, without making any attempt to move. Severus held back a smile. No, Harry didn't appear to have any objections about being comforted. After all, he'd spent more than one night sleeping in his lap as a cat, without taking into account all the times Severus had carried him in his arms. But all the same…

"You had a nightmare last night," he felt obligated to explain. "I'm afraid I dozed off a bit after awakening you…"

"Dozed off a bit?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of the Potions master.

"Dismally collapsed," Snape conceded with a slight smile.

The boy laughed soundlessly, but looked at him with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry I disturbed you. I forgot to cast a Silencing Charm on my room last night."

The professor shook his head. "Harry…you don't have to do that. It's unnecessary and uncalled for. I have my own alarms on this room, which awaken me each time your sleep becomes agitated."

The boy's eyes widened. "Why?"

Snape looked down at him indulgently. "So you don't face your nightmares alone," he answered.

"Why?" the boy repeated, dumbfounded.

Because that's what parents do, Snape would've liked to reply…but no, this wasn't the moment. Not yet.

"So that they'll stop. I'd like you to feel safe here; I'm here to watch over you, Harry, day and night.

"But I'm not really in danger," the boy protested. "You don't need…you should rest, that's really more important, Professor. I've always had nightmares, they're not important."

"Very much to the contrary," Snape said as he stretched slightly.

Realizing that he was still leaning against the professor, Harry sat up quickly as he blushed.

"It's important that you sleep well, so you can regain your strength. A good breakfast won't hurt either, if you feel up to it," Snape suggested.

Harry jumped from the bed. "I'll take care of that. Take your time, I'll take care of everything!"

Severus grimaced as he took his turn to get up. A long hot shower certainly wouldn't do any harm… "Perfect, nothing like being waited on to start the day right. You can go check in the laboratory, in case Albus has sent food, and start by taking your potions," he said with a wave toward the nightstand.

The boy obeyed, his movements quick and nimble. At least he'd been able to get a good night's sleep, Severus thought. As for himself, he couldn't say as much; his stiff muscles creaked like an old door, and he felt as if his vertebra were knocking together with each and every step he took.

Merlin, he wasn't even forty. Hiding his stiff walk the best he could, he made as dignified an exit as possible. "Try not to burn anything. I'll be back in a quarter of an hour."

The boy smiled happily, and Severus caught himself feeling more lighthearted. Harry really had a frightening ability to make him smile, and render dramatic situations almost normal…

He was going to have to be careful after their return to Hogwarts; it was a matter of his reputation at stake…

A shower and about ten potions later, Severus felt less achy, and ready to face a new day. Harry was bustling about in the dining room, obviously determined to impress him when he'd appear.

"A fruit salad?" Severus asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"It's full of vitamins," the boy explained enthusiastically. "Dumbledore sent a basketful of fruits and vegetables; there's enough to last a week!"

"I'll don't think we'll need that much time," Snape said as he sat.

"Oh." The boy seemed almost disappointed.

"Later we'll work on your transformations. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Much better. It did me good to sleep, even if that nightmare was really scary."

"What did you dream, Harry, if that's not too indiscreet?" Snape asked.

The boy hesitated for an instant. "Can Voldemort summon you? I mean, through the Mark, he can't force you to go?"

"No," Snape confirmed. "He can only send a signal. I must place my hand on the Mark and desire to respond for it to work, much the same as a Portkey."

Harry nodded. "That's what it seemed like. But dreams don't always make sense…"

"Is that what you dreamt, Harry?" Snape asked gently. "About Voldemort summoning me?"

"More or less. At the beginning, it was a simple Quidditch match; I'd just caught the Snitch, Gryffindor had won the Cup, and everything was really perfect. But when I looked in your direction, I saw you holding your arm, and then you disappeared." He shuddered.

"And afterward?"

"Afterward…everything changed. It wasn't the same place anymore, it was all in ruins, and everyone was dead. I wanted to save them, but I didn't know how. I was hoping you could do something, so I was looking for you…"

…and his father had come to his rescue. But that really wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to tell Snape…not now that they were getting on so well. The memory of James could only come between them.

Harry swallowed hard. "And that's the moment when I woke up."

"I see," Snape said thoughtfully. "It would seem that you're still very anxious over all that's happened. That's entirely normal, and that's why I don't want you to cast a Silencing Charm on your room, Harry. The nightmares will come to an end much sooner if you don't let them go too far."

"And if someone reassures me when I wake up," the boy agreed. "Thanks, Professor. Really."

Snape thought about reminding Harry to call him by his first name, but it clearly wasn't the moment.

"No one's ever done that before, at least that I can remember," Harry went on, looking him straight in the eye, even if his cheeks were slightly flushed. Severus could only be gratified by his effort. "Maybe that's why I still have them."

The professor gravely nodded his head. "Nightmares are more destructive than they seem. It's important for you to face them as calmly as possible. Never hesitate to talk to me about them, and for my part, I promise to be there when you awaken, whenever possible."

At the troubled look the boy gave him, Severus knew that his words had disturbed him, but he didn't give him time to dwell on them. "Excellent meal," he began. "Which brings us to a suggestion I made several weeks ago, concerning your Potions marks."

He could almost picture Shadow's ears perking up at his words. "What would you think about helping me this morning with potions? That would allow me to evaluate your competency, and revise your mark."

"Really? I mean, sure, but is that still possible?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Excellent question, Potter. Let's think about that. Will Dumbledore agree to let me raise the Boy Who Lived's mark at the last minute? Hmmm, surely deserves some reflection. At least ten seconds, in any case, the time it takes to offer me a sherbet lemon," the professor quipped ironically.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he imagined the scene. How could life be so totally dramatic one day, then so lighthearted the next?

Snape, he decided, or rather, Severus. He had to get used to that…or was it just the fact that someone was taking care of him—not only his health and wellbeing, but also his future?

Whatever, it was definitely thanks to the Potions master, who was leading him down to the laboratory, after having cleaned and put away the dishes with an expert flick of his wand.

Preparing a potion was definitely easier when one wasn't on their guard, Harry decided after several hours of work. The peaceful atmosphere in the dungeons helped him to concentrate, and Snape's instructions, stripped of his sarcasm and menacing tone, were completely clear and understandable.

When Severus finally leant in over his cauldron and nodded his head, saying, "Good work," Harry felt a heavier weight than he would've imagined leave his shoulders.

"Enough to raise my mark?" he asked eagerly.

Snape lifted an ironic eyebrow. "Exceeds Expectation, shall we say?"

Harry felt his heart pound. "Thanks, Professor. Severus."

At these words, he saw the ends of Snape's mouth lift slightly. "This potion is correct, but I'll expect nothing less in my class this year, understood?"

"Understood. And same for the cooking," Harry added.

"You do realize that constitutes contributing to the corruption of a professor?" Snape groaned as he poured the potion into a phial.

"And that's before you're tasted my chocolate soufflé," the boy said, upping the ante.

"Bad choice, Potter, I've never been fond of sweets."

"Oh…I suppose I should've guessed. Let me see…liqueurs?"

"I don't approve of strong drink, nor of their use in cooking," Snape replied.

"You really have a character flaw there!" Harry protested, who would've given anything for some Chocolate Frogs. "Ice cream? No, that's sugared….spices? Asian dishes?"

"I have a weakness for coffee," Severus finally confessed reluctantly.

"Coffee. Drinkable?"

"In all its forms, actually," Snape muttered as he put away the last phials.

"That doesn’t leave many possibilities," Harry said thoughtfully. "Coffee ice cream…white coffee, cream with coffee, coffee pudding…"

"Coffee poisoning?" the Potions master suggested. "Good, that's enough for this morning. I'd like to check out the park before starting training exercises there. Perhaps a good chance for you to change and go get your broom. You might have need of it."

"I'm going to fly?" Harry asked enthusiastically as he took off for the stairway. "Oh, is there anything else I'll need?"

"Perhaps a good shower," Snape said, amused. "You don't realize it in your human form, but potions vapors adhere to skin and hair, and a simple Tergeo isn't enough to get rid of them. You'll be much more sensitive to them in your cat form."

"Oh," Harry said as he ran a hand through his hair. "That explains why…."

He stopped, blushing furiously. It probably wasn't the time to make a comment about Snape's hair, when the man was in such a good mood…

But the Potions master laughed soundlessly. "Hurry and go up, before I decide to experiment with a new shampoo formula, rather than taking my cat out for a walk."

Harry didn't wait to be told twice, then took the stairs four at a time.

Flying! He was going to fly! Just like in his dream, he realized. The idea dampened his enthusiasm slightly. Was that why Snape had asked him to bring his broom? The professor wanted to help him, of course, but his methods were sometimes a bit harsh.

Rummaging in his trunk, he took out the broom that'd out of necessity been shrunken for travel. What mattered was that he trusted Snape, and the prospect of flying erased all of his fears.

He was about to shut the trunk again, when he noticed the cask on the table. Snape had probably set it there the evening before. He stroked the wood with the palm of his hand, hesitant to open it. No, not now; he'd look at it this evening, when he'd be able to take his time. But he had to go back to Hogwarts in two days…

He could take the box with him, of course; Severus had made it clear that it was his, but it seemed to him that the cask belonged in this place. And it seemed especially at home in this room…his room.

Because that's truly what Snape had called it, wasn't it? His room. His room. He glanced around it, a slight smile on his face. It wasn't large, but certainly of a suitable size, moderately but adequately furnished. And he could decorate it as he pleased, if he decided to come back…

His very first room, he thought, because the one the Dursleys had finally given him had never really stopped being Dudley's.  And the bars on the windows hadn't been all that friendly…

He hadn't left anything there; the Dursleys would've burned it. But here? He could not only leave the box and be sure of finding it again, but all that he wouldn't need during the year as well! His trunk was so loaded down with old things that it barely closed.

But when? Harry's face darkened. Was he really coming back here? Snape truly seemed to want him to, but there was nothing to say that he still wouldn't change his mind about Harry. After all, he'd already done that before. Just a few weeks ago, the professor would've probably thrown him out of the Manor, head first.

No, it was best to take advantage of the present moment and not count on anything further. It'd only be a bigger disappointment, and Snape had already done so much for him. Harry certainly didn't have the right to be upset with him if he turned away again.

Harry went to the window and pushed the curtain aside. At the edge of the woods, he could see the dark silhouette of the Potions master, wand in hand, as he methodically paced in an inspection of the park.

He couldn't help but smile. Yes, he was going to make the best of these days while he could, and do all he could not to alienate Snape when they returned to Hogwarts.

Suddenly in a hurry to join the professor, he opened the window and slipped outside, his broom in his hand.

It felt good to run, and it was even better to see Snape turn a calm face toward him.

"Do you feel up to a training session? No aching, pain in your bones, or dizziness?" he asked as he examined the boy with his expert eye.

"In top form," Harry confirmed, a bit out of breath from his run. He really needed to get back in shape before time for Quidditch matches.

"The park seems secure, the wards are fully in place. I'd prefer, however, if you don't go too far, especially in the air. Don't fly higher than the Manor roof. Content yourself with sticking to the grass as well, and don't venture into the woods. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mother," said the boy with a grimace. A slight silence passed between them, then was quickly broken.

"Do you really want me to fly? Oh, I've not brought my broom back to size; I thought it'd be best if I didn't do any more magic than necessary, in case, you know, the Ministry decree…

"No longer applies to you," Snape answered. "After all that's happened this summer, it was impossible to enforce it. Each of your Animagus transformations is an act of magic, you realize."

Harry paled considerably. "Am I going to be in trouble?"

Snape sighed. "No, not this time. It would appear that the Ministry has agreed to look the other way on this decree so far as you're concerned, in even-numbered years."

Harry looked at him blankly.

"Dumbledore has arranged for them to forget about you this summer, by reason of exceptional circumstances," he translated. "But be that as it may, today is the start of term, and so the decree no longer applies. You have no worries there."

"But I've not gone back to Hogwarts," the boy objected. "Does the Ministry know that as well?"

"Don't forget that Dumbledore is now your legal guardian," Snape said softly.

Harry shuddered at the idea.

"Does that present a problem?" the professor hastened to ask him.

"I don't know…" Harry confessed. "It's rather ungrateful on my part, I suppose, but I don't like the idea. I know Dumbledore was trying to protect me from the beginning, but…I don't really know. I suppose it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Nothing surprising about that," Snape agreed. "You didn't have any say in this change in guardianship, and after what happened this summer, your reaction is completely understandable. Keep in mind that the Headmaster has promised not to abuse his new role in order to interfere any more in your life than you want, Harry. I hope you don't hold what you suffered at Malfoy's hands against him?"

Harry shook his head. "No, of course I don't. But in a way, that's what's making things so unpleasant. On one hand, Dumbledore will keep his distance, and it's rather good like that. On the other…that doesn't give me any more of a chance of having a family than being kept by the Dursleys did."

The last sentence had slipped from his lips so quickly that he wasn't entirely sure of having said it. But seeing the troubled look that Snape gave him, there was no doubt…  The Potions master opened his mouth to say something, before closing it again, then opened it once more.

It would appear that Harry's declaration had thrown him off balance. "Is that important to you, Harry?" he asked all of a sudden.

The boy shrugged. He wasn't six years old anymore, and with the war on the horizon, it certainly wasn't the time to play the unhappy orphan.

"Not really. I've never had one anyway. Can I go fly, Professor?"

Snape studied him for a long moment, before nodding his head. "Stay within the limits I set for you. Take to the sky, let off as much steam as you need to. Clear your mind.  After that, I'd like you to do some relaxation exercises. I'll stay here to watch; try to remain within my line of sight."

With a quick motion of his wand, he brought the broom back to its original size, then nodded at the boy, who took off precipitously.

A bit too much for Snape's liking…  This wasn't the time for him to break his neck, by Merlin; he'd not yet fully recovered from his recent wounds, and there he was, performing aerobatics. Wand in his fist, Severus watched the boy nervously, ready to rescue him from a free-fall. Harry'd done well to accuse him of acting like…like a mother. Oh, bloody hell.

He'd been left speechless by the boy's confession about wanting a family. That was one thing he'd been wrong about after all. Harry truly needed someone. But more than just someone, he wanted what every child needed—a family. And what could Snape offer him in that regard? Surely not his paltry experience, nor those fatherly qualities he'd never possessed.

He could take care of him, yes, but Harry needed much more than that. Much more than he could offer him. Once again, there was a tugging at his heartstrings. Regret? Bitterness? Probably one of these sentiments that he'd never tried to suss out, which had come to beset him when he'd let a cat and a boy enter into his life.

He'd have to deal with it. Yes, he'd face what was to come in due time. And whatever happened, he'd do his best for Harry, and to hell with the rest. He'd done his best for Lily, after all.

When Harry finally landed, he was pink and out of breath, but wearing a big smile. "I've really missed that!" he said as he stretched. "I'm anxious to get back into the matches, if Dumbledore lifts the ban on me, of course."

"I doubt that'll be a problem," Snape replied. "Do you feel ready for a bit of meditation?"

Harry nodded, and they began to walk toward the clearing where they'd practiced the exercises before.

"Professor, I was thinking of Sirius' house again. Professor Dumbledore wrote to tell me I'd inherited, but I don't know what I should do with it. Does that create a problem with the Fidelius?"

"No, not at all. Albus is the Secret-Keeper, so the Order members will always be able to go there. On the other hand, the wards and the house-elves will recognize you as their new owner."

"Kreacher? Certainly not! At least…does that give me the right to cut off his head and stick it up on the wall?" the boy grumbled.

"Certainly," Severus said calmly. "As well as torturing him to death or ordering him to kill himself."

He saw Harry shiver despite the heat.

"But I'd advise you to send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchens instead."

"Yeah, I suppose," the boy murmured. "I don't want the house either. I could maybe give it to Dumbledore; that'd be fairly simple."

"It was your godfather's house, Harry. It seems to me that the two of you got on rather well?" Snape asked gently.

"Sirius hated that place. He was always unhappy there, you know that."

A moment of silence lengthened between them at the memory of the many arguments that the two wizards had had at Order headquarters.

"Wait a while before making a decision," Snape finally advised. "Nothing obliges you to go there, and you'll be happy to have it later on, perhaps. Set it to the side, focus on what's important right now.

Harry nodded. It was true—the house could wait, but Sirius…Sirius was important. He had far too many questions to resolve, so far as his godfather was concerned. Nothing that he could ask Snape, though.

Starting with what Sirius would've thought of Harry's new relationship with his worst enemy. Oh, Merlin. He probably would've never forgiven him.

Without thinking, he looked up at the professor walking at by his side, and met his dark, calm eyes.

"Don't dwell on it too much, Harry.  Especially if there's nothing you can do about it."

And as strange as that seemed, Harry realized as he nodded that he could to that. It was beautiful weather, Snape was with him, and he'd just finished flying. He'd have time to think about all of that later. Or if possible, not to think of it at all…

Emptying his mind to meditate was easier than he would've thought. The transformation exercise, on the other hand…

"Ready, Harry?" Snape asked when Harry'd stood again after the meditation exercise.

"I hope so. Shadow, then?" the boy asked nervously.

"Yes, but this time try to keep your mind on something that isn't part of your cat life. You think you can do that?"

Think of Snape, but a different Snape…the one who shouted at him at Hogwarts, perhaps. No, that wouldn't work. Perhaps simply the one who came to comfort him in the middle of the night.

Focusing on an image of the bedchamber, Harry put all his will into taking his cat form. An instant afterward, he was standing on four paws, facing Snape, slightly confused.

Snape. The nightmare. The bedchamber. Pictures of the sweater and the fireplace flitted through his mind, but he pushed them away. There was no way he was mistaking himself for a cat this time!

When he looked up at Snape again, he was just about certain of having mastered his form and its personality, but he wasn't any less grateful to the professor for his neutral and attentive expression.

The cat let out a short meow as it sat.

"Harry?' the Potions master tried.

Another meow answered him, and Snape felt relief spread through him. It wasn't totally a lost cause, after all.

"Can you transform back again?" he asked the cat.

For a long moment, the cat sat there, looking at him, his green eyes focused on Snape's own. He could almost see the thoughts tangling in the cat's head. Finally, the cat was replaced by a frowning teenage, obviously upset.

"The return seemed to take longer this time," Snape commented.

"Yeah," the boy admitted. "It was harder to find the mechanism to make it work the other direction. It wasn't too difficult, but I'm afraid it'd be more complicated if I transform involuntarily. It took me a moment to get ready and get my thoughts straight after changing form."

"It's bothersome, but all the same encouraging. Take some time to relax, and we'll begin again, this time for a litter longer. Were you completely aware of who you were?" the professor asked.

"At the end, yes. But I have the impression that Shadow's only waiting to push to the front, if I give him the chance."

"No fish at meals, then," Snape said in an attempt to lighten the mood. "And stop disassociating your two forms, Harry. The way you see things as a cat is no less a part of you. The expectations, desires and fears that you experience as Shadow are your own as well. Accept that."

But what did Shadow really want? the boy wondered. Fish, of course. The peacefulness of the dungeons, the warmth of the fire, Severus' presence. A home…someone…peace.

But what Shadow managed to achieve so easily, Harry couldn't, or at least he couldn't resolve to. Snape had told him that he'd always be there, but until when? He'd offered him a place to stay, but he could just as well move away at any moment, whatever he said.

As for peace…like all the rest of it, he should earn it.

Yes, he wanted the same thing as Shadow. But the cat hadn't had to struggle to have it, and that would make all the difference.

He confusedly felt his body slip into a more comfortable skin, but before he was able to finish the transformation, a shout attracted his attention.

"Harry!"

He jumped, staggering on his feet, and looked at the Potions master.

"Harry, are you all right?"

His vision blurry, he stared at the professor's tense face. "I think so. Just a moment of…fuzziness," he finally replied.

"To say the least…is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Snape's voice was sincere, his eyes tinged with worry. And just because of this little incident… Yes, it was worth being Harry, and not Shadow.

He shook his head. "No, not for now anyway. It's still a bit confused at times. I still need to train, I think."

"Go and walk a bit. I'll stay here," Snape told him. "My offer stands at any time, Harry. You need to talk. It's important."

As the boy walked away, Severus, in one of those rare moments in life, did something he'd neither foreseen, nor calculated, and even less, anticipated.

"Harry?" he repeated. The boy turned back, a questioning look on his face.

"You are important," Snape said, his voice neutral, but his eyes intense.

For an instant, he saw a streak of pain pass through the boy's eyes, and he wondered if he'd made a mistake. Since when had spontaneity been a worthwhile solution, by Merlin?

Then Harry smiled weakly, but something in his expression made him seem younger, and Severus felt strangely happy at the sight. With a gesture of his head, he signaled for him to go on, and the boy took off again, he steps a little uncertain.

The afternoon passed more quickly than they would've thought.

When suppertime arrived, Harry felt exhausted and mildly anxious. On the whole, his transformations had turned out well, and Snape's exercises had proved helpful, but if the same thing happened in different circumstances? Harry wasn't certain of the outcome.

"Are you sure Ron and Hermione will be able to come?" he asked as they tucked in to the roast Harry'd carefully prepared with his own hands.

"Everything's arranged; you have nothing to worry about. They'll wait for you in my office. If there's the slightest problem, I won't be long."

"I'm returning directly to the Manor, I know," Harry said. "I realize I don't have any reason to worry, but the idea of going back to Hogwarts is a bit…strange."

"Everything will turn out fine. You just need to pace yourself," Snape reassured him. "And in any case, it's only a matter of an hour or two, and we'll be back at the Manor. You're still not ready to start classes again, and I'm aware of that."

"Honestly, Professor…I feel good," the boy admitted. "I really don't want to, but I'm ready to go back to Hogwarts. It's just cowardice."

"Have you ever felt apprehensive at the idea of going back to school before?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, then you're not ready," Snape concluded. "The fact that you're on your feet and can manage to control your transformations doesn't mean that everything's fine. After what's happened this summer, no one would consider you a coward, Harry."

"But they don't really know all that's happened, isn't that right?"

"Since when has what others think become so important to you?" the Potions master retorted.

"But it always has! I don't have the right to make a mistake, no right to disappoint them, ever since I set foot in Hogwarts. You're in a position to know it very well. I hate that…but I can't ignore it."

Snape sat silently for a moment, thoughtful. "In a sense, I understand, and I can respect that. I suppose it's far from the arrogance I so long attributed to you."

Harry couldn’t' help but shoot him a dark look.

"I suppose one must acknowledge his mistakes from time to tome. And that was one of them, an extremely crude one. I allowed my judgment to be clouded by prejudices that didn't concern you. For a spy, that's a grave shortcoming."

Harry looked away and shrugged, ill-at-ease. "You've already apologized, so that's not necessary. Everyone does the same thing anyway."

Snape's lips thinned. "All the more reason not to pay attention to what others think, Harry. It's the best way of allowing yourself to be thrown off-balance."

But clearly, if wasn't as if the boy had ever had a stable life, or a positive opinion of himself. No one had taken the trouble to give him one either, and in view of his family's behavior, this fragility in the face of what others thought was, all in all, entirely natural.

Severus sighed. He had a long way to go if he wanted to help the boy effectively.

"It's easy for you to say—everyone respects you," Harry said at last.

"Respects me? The infamous professor, ex-Death Eater, the Potions master with the greasy hair?  They respect my talents, at most. But more commonly, they fear me, which doesn't have much to do with respect," Snape replied.

"That's not true! The Slytherins thing you're a god…"

A bitter snigger answered him. "I'll be curious to see how my dear Slytherins welcome their god after his fall from darkness. Their respect, such as it is, is but a reflection of my position with Voldemort. A goodly number of my students are children of Death Eaters, or sympathizers, Harry. I think you'll find their notion of respect for me strikingly changed this year."

The boy swallowed with difficulty. "I'm sorry. I hadn't thought… That'll turn out rather hard, hmm?"

Snape gave him a small, sly smile. "Probably. But after having spent the summer with a Gryffindor, I suppose I'm ready to face anything."

"Even what other people think," Harry said.

"Make no mistake. I'd have never been drawn to the Death Eaters if the opinion of others hadn't mattered to me. I'd have never strayed from them, either, if that of your mother hadn't driven me."

"But you left them in the end," the boy pointed out.

Severus almost had to smile. Here was Harry Potter, trying to restore his self-esteem. Merlin, the world was tilting precariously on its axis. "What others think of you influences you a great deal, Harry. But your choices remain your own. Have you had enough to eat?'

The boy looked blankly at his plate, as if he was having trouble extricating himself from his thoughts. "Yeah, I wasn't all that hungry anyway. Do you think the Sorting Ceremony's over?"

"Most likely," Snape agreed. "Ready to forge into the lion's den?"

Harry smiled. "The snake pit's more like it."

"Hmmm. From the moment we leave until we return, no transformations, is that understood? Whatever you have to say to Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger will have to wait," Snape continued.

"A cat and nothing but a cat. Understood. And if I have something urgent I have to let them know, I'll wait until you come back."

"You'll wait in any case until you're back at the Manor, Harry. It's not simply a matter of a disguise. I'd prefer you not to have to test your Occlumency abilities right away."

The boy swallowed hard. "Do you think Voldemort could try to attack me at Hogwarts?"

"Voldemort, probably not. He's most likely still too weak. But he's not the only one who knows how to use Legilimency, and many Death Eaters would pay dearly to be able to siphon information from you."

"But at Hogwarts? Do you really think they could reach me there?"

"I don’t' know," Snape said with a certain measure of irritation. "It's simply unnecessary to take the risk. It's the start of term, the best day to attempt such a thing."

"No one will know that I’m there," the boy retorted.

"No one will know that you're not there! Your absence wasn't reported in the Prophet, Harry. As far as everyone knows, you're at this very moment somewhere in Hogwarts, well-hidden. If you're not sure you can control yourself, then perhaps it'd be best for you to stay here."

"No," Harry capitulated, his spirits dampened. "I'm sure I can control myself; I'm just afraid of not doing it if…but it'll be fine. And if I lose control, I'll just have to come back to the Manor straight off."

Snape scrutinized him for a long moment, as if searching for something in his eyes. Harry didn't try to hide himself. Finally, the professor nodded and threw a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace. "Severus Snape's office, Hogwarts."

His head disappeared into the flames, then reappeared a few moments later. "Everything seems normal. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are waiting for you on the other side, as well as the Headmaster. Do you feel ready?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

The boy smiled, and an instant afterward, Snape was facing a black cat with glossy fur, its green eyes sparkling as it looked at him.

This time, they'd got it right.

With a jerk of his head, he signaled for Harry to join him, and the cat gathered itself for a precise jump to his left shoulder.

Snape caught himself finding the situation strikingly natural, and as he enunciated his destination and stepped into the fireplace, he thought that it probably wasn't going to be long before he was known as 'the professor with a cat.'

***

Harry had always despised traveling by Floo powder, and Shadow didn't think any less. But arriving at Hogwarts on Snape's shoulder was largely worth the sacrifice, if only for the shocked expressions on Ron's, Hermione's and Dumbledore's faces when they made their appearance.

Hermione let out a gasp of surprise, Ron's eyes grew large, and Dumbledore rapidly blinked twice, before resuming his imperturbable façade.

By the tension in the Potions master's shoulders, Shadow could tell that the man was at least as satisfied by their entrance as he was.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," he said with a curt nod.

Regaining their wits, the two teenagers managed to speak. "Good evening, Professor."

"Might I entrust my cat to you while I am gone?" the professor asked courteously.

If Harry hadn't been in his Animagus form, he would've burst into laughter at the sight of his two friends, their mouths hanging open, watching Snape as if he'd suddenly grown another head.

Hermione was the first to take hold of herself. "Of course, Professor. We'll take good care of…"

She glanced at him, amused, with a question in her eyes.

"Shadow. His name is Shadow," Snape replied.

Shadow jumped to the floor at last, and went to join the two teenagers who seemed to be struggling to fit suitable expressions on their faces.

"Albus, I presume the Slytherins are waiting for me?" the Potions master asked.

"In your common room, Severus. Would you like me to go with you?"

Snape sniggered. "That won't be necessary. Shadow?"

The cat answered him with a blink of his eyes. Yes, everything would be fine. All his nervousness had gone when he'd found his two friends there, and even the Headmaster's presence didn't spoil the joy of being here at Hogwarts again with them.

With one last look at the cat, the Head of Slytherin strode purposefully from his office.

The door had hardly shut behind him when Ron and Hermione let out sighs of relief, bending down to get a better look at him.

"Are you all right…Shadow? With all that's happened, we weren't sure we'd see you today, since…."

Suddenly remembering the discreet presence of the Headmaster, Hermione stopped, annoyed.

"Ah well," Dumbledore said happily. "I believe the two of you have things well in hand. Don't forget what we talked about, and take care not to move or break anything in the professor's office. I could be mistaken, but I doubt he'd blame his cat!"

They all smiled as they looked at Shadow, who was nonchalantly licking his nose.

Then directly addressing the cat, the Headmaster said seriously, "It's a relief and a pleasure to have you back again and in good health, Shadow. I'm happy to see that you and your new master are getting on so well."

The little mischievous glint in his eyes was impossible to miss, but Harry appreciated the caution all the same. Was the Headmaster trying to tell him he fully intended to keep his word, and respect Snape's authority over Harry Potter?

But did Harry himself acknowledge it?

Shadow shook his head, and let out a short meow for the old wizard.

Dumbledore smiled at him kindly, before turning to the two teenagers standing impatiently at his side.

"I'll leave you to it. Try not to…oh, well, go beyond the limits. I trust you, do I not? Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Shadow, welcome back to Hogwarts!"

The two youngsters told him goodbye, waiting in silence for the door to close again, leaving them alone with a very clearly excited black cat.

He jumped to a chair in a single leap, then let out a series of short meows that pulled a smiled from Ron and Hermione.

"Sorry you can't talk, mate," the redhead said. "But bloody hell, with all you have to tell us, believe me, you're not the most frustrated one here!"

"Har…Shadow, are you doing all right?" Hermione asked, barely correcting herself in time.

Merlin, did everyone feel obligated to ask him that question? Did he seem to be in agony? He let out a commanding meow, and the girl smiled.

"Yes, Professor Snape seems to be taking good care of you…"

"Er…Shadow, then?" Ron said goofily. "I'd have expected something a bit more like Veritaserum, Beelzebub, or let's say…Salazar!"

The cat shot him a scornful look.

"Oh, but for sure, Shadow is completely…cute, yeah, that's the word I was looking for!"

The boy broke out into wild laughter, while Hermione looked on, somewhat fondly and half-annoyed.

"Forgive him, Shadow," she told the cat. "He doesn't know how to act…boys, you know."

Ron only laughed harder, managing to miss knocking over a bottle on shelf with his back.

"That's enough, Ron!" Hermione decided to finally grumble. "It's certainly not funny to…er…Shadow," she finished pitifully.

"Oh, he'll have to forgive us!" she continued, confused. "We've been very worried about you, all these stories, we didn't know whether to believe them or not…it's just nerves coming out; it's so good to see you, safe and sound and…in good company."

The cat blinked to tell her that he understood, and then spun around once. Were they determined to tell him what'd happened while he'd been gone?

Ron, who'd finally regained a bit of self-control, wiped a tear away and took his turn to come close. "In very…good company," he said with one last hiccough. "Oh Merlin, I can't wait for all the details…oh bloody hell, I know I shouldn't laugh, mate, I'm sorry, don't take it the wrong way. Hermione's right, we've been a bit tense lately…um." He shot him a sheepish look. "There're plenty of things to tell you, but seeing how you can't talk back…I think you'd really prefer if we wait. And believe me, it'll be worth it!"

Exasperated, Shadow spat. Were they trying to kill him with the suspense? News, he wanted news, stories without Voldemort, without stealing powers, without sacrifice…just Fred and George's fireworks, and Ginny's latest news. Was that too much to ask?

"It won't be long, you know," Hermione said with a conciliatory gesture. "I suppose that you'll be coming back to Hogwarts soon…with Professor Snape?"

Shadow nodded.

"The least we can say is that your absence at the meal was noticed," Ron said.  "The Slytherins didn't hear even half of the Sorting Hat's speech, or Dumbledore's either. Too busy whispering amongst themselves after seeing that Snape wasn't there for the Ceremony. A first for him."

"Harry's absence was noticed as well," Hermione told him casually. "And not only by the Slytherins. Dumbledore explained that Professor Snape would be back soon, but he didn't say a word about Harry. Many people think they're in hiding together."

Harry understood the necessity of not attracting attention to his true identity, really. But was this act that Dumbledore and Snape insisted upon really necessary? Merlin, anyone would've understood straight off, just by seeing them together…

But he didn't let any of his irritation show, and continued to listen to them talk about him in the third person.

"It's not known exactly what happened this summer, but plenty of rumors are circulating.  Voldemort was severely wounded and in hiding, the Death Eaters were on the run…"

"But the most interesting," Ron elaborated, "is that there're a lot of empty chairs at the Slytherin table. Apparently, certain families have suddenly decided to send their children to Durmstrang!'

"And that would have something to do with the fact that Professor Snape betrayed Voldemort," Hermione finished.

Shadow started.

"Yes, everyone knows about that," Ron said simply. "What's not clear to everyone is his role before that… Well, the Slytherins seem rather unanimous on that question," he added. "And honestly, in Snape's place, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to throw myself into the snake pit."

"Many people seemed to think he'd not dare come back," Hermione explained. "As for the Gryffindors…certain of them think he kidnapped or killed Harry Potter, or both. No one really seems to think that he could've saved him like the papers claim. Certain of them think that Harry's dead, and that Dumbledore's trying to hold back the news, or cover for Snape. I think they'll be more reassured, seeing him back safe and sound."

Ron had trouble stifling a laugh, and Harry knew he'd just been spared another joke on his cat status.

But before he could meow a retort, their attention was attracted by a noise in the corridor, and the two teenagers instinctively brandished their wands. Sounds of running, a frantic and panicked flight, several people trying to flee as shouting rang out in the dungeons. Out of pure and simple terror, Harry realized, feeling the fur on his back stand up on end.

The noises sounded muffled to them, but there was no doubt that something was happening, just fifty feet from the office. Ron and Hermione looked at each other hesitantly; someone was obviously in danger.

That was when the shouting began in earnest, and there was no longer any question of someone going to their rescue; these screams were definitely not human, and the number of them, as well as their ferocity, left little room for doubt: whatever the creatures were that were at this very moment running in the corridors, the two teenagers couldn't do anything against them.

All three of them exchanged panicked looks, their wands still pointed toward the door. An attack, the first day of term? It was impossible…but Snape had dreaded this, Harry recalled. His paranoia hadn't been so unfounded, in the end.

"Shadow, go back to the Manor, it's too risky!" Hermione said, without looking away from the door.

But she was interrupted by another shout, closer and definitely human this time. Terribly human, and terribly young… A shout of sharp pain, covered by a growl of triumph, as screams of all sorts seemed to fill the air.  The teenagers looked nervously at each other; how many could there be? And especially, what?

The door was flung open full-force, and before they had time to think, Ron and Hermione had both cast a Petrificus that bounced against a shield thrown up in haste. Snape, out of breath, his black robes disheveled, looked for Shadow, before letting out a sigh of relief. With a flick of his wand, the heavy door was violently slammed shut, and the room's owner turned to quickly cast up wards.

Then, turning to the two teenagers and the cat in shock, he said, "Fifty points to Gryffindor for excellent reflexes. Granger, Weasley, read this!" he said tersely as he threw them a piece of paper, on which Ron and Hermione could read, 'Snape Manor,' in Dumbledore's fine and elegant handwriting.

"Hurry up," he said as he pushed them urgently toward the fireplace.

Blood-curdling screams echoed even closer, and a dull thud sounded against the door. The noise of a body being used as a battering ram.

Snape swore in a low voice, and threw a handful of powder into the grate. Then, taking Shadow into his arms, he called out, "Snape Manor! You two, go on! Merlin, what're you waiting for? A written invitation?"

With a jump, the two teenagers rushed into the green flames, immediately followed by the professor holding the cat as if his life depended on it.

And this was no doubt the case, Shadow thought, as they stepped into the peaceful laboratory at Snape Manor.

Ron and Hermione at the Manor…he'd expected anything but this. But that furious beast screaming in the dungeon corridors at Hogwarts?

Without delaying any longer, he retook his human form.

"Professor, what was that?" he pressed.

"An attack. I can't tell you more just now, but you're out of danger here. It was a huge mistake to make you come on the first day of term…but I'm out of time. Don't move from here, none of you, promise me!"

Ron and Hermione nodded distractedly, but Harry took care to look the professor in the eyes. "We're not going anywhere, I promise you. But please…do you have to go back there?"

For a brief moment, Snape's eyes softened, then he nodded. "I won't be long, Harry, the walls will protect you in case of an attack; do not go out for any reason, do you hear? Dumbledore or myself will come to get you. If no one's come within twelve hours…" He hesitated. "Send someone," he said with a wave toward Ron and Hermione, who were waiting behind Harry.

The boy vigorously nodded.

"Harry, it's possible that it's you they're looking for. Do not go out for any reason; have you understood me? Or this protection will have been placed in vain."

The intensity of the professor's eyes told Harry more than his words. 'I would've done all that for nothing.'

And that…no, Harry couldn't allow it. Nodding his head, he gave in. "We'll wait. But I won't be sending anyone. Come back quickly."

And once again, his eyes said more to the professor than the words he'd just spoken.

Snape struggled for a moment against the sudden desire to rest his hand on the boy's forehead to calm the spark of painful worry lighting up the green eyes. Harry would've understood…but remembering the presence of two other teenagers, he contented himself with just a nod.

"Everything will be all right," he said in his calmest voice.

Then, with a great crack¸ he Disapparated.

"Merlin, what was that—the end of the world?"

Stunned, the three teenagers stared at the place where the professor had been standing, only ten seconds earlier.

"I don't know…" Harry said as he shook his head. Everything had happened too quickly. "Severus talked about an attack, but he was convinced that Voldemort couldn't try anything himself tonight."

"That's not what I'm talking about," retorted Ron. "Bloody hell, he gave fifty points to Gryffindor! Fifty! Since when does Snape give points to any House but his own, huh? Wait a minute…Severus?"

"Really, Ron!" Hermione said indignantly. "Hogwarts is being attacked this very moment; maybe we're safe, but that's not the case for the rest of the students, nor the professors!" she added with a sympathetic look for Harry. "There are more serious matters at hand than the use of a first name."

"I'd really liked to know where Snape went," Harry said, nervously twisting the corner of his tee-shirt. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he reluctantly looked away from the spot where the professor had disappeared.

"Not to Hogwarts, in all likelihood," the girl answered calmingly, gently pushing Harry toward an armchair. He felt into it heavily, while his companions sat a bit more carefully on the arms of the other chair.

"What makes you say that?"

"You can't Apparate into Hogwarts," she replied simply. "But I'm sure the professor knows what he's doing, Harry; you have nothing to worry about. He promised to come back quickly."

"There are promises that can't always be kept," Harry grumbled. "Blimey, and he didn't even take…he couldn't…" He stopped, annoyed. That was Snape's secret, and he doubted the professor would approve of him sharing it with his friends. But he knew perfectly well that the Potions master needed to take his potions regularly to have access to his powers. What was he intending to do like this?

He looked up and noticed that his friends were watching him worriedly.

"Harry, it'll be all right.  Professor Snape knows what he's doing."

"I suppose so…I, er… Do you want something to drink? Tea? I don't think we have any butterbeer left."

The two of them looked at each other then, even more disconcerted.

"No, thanks," Ron said at last. "You, er…seem really comfortable here, I'd say."

"Oh," Harry said as it dawned on him. "Yeah, I suppose. It's…a good place, really."

"This is probably a stupid question, but just to be sure…are we really where I think we are?"

"Ron…Snape Manor," Hermione told him, irritated. "What do you think—that we're at Honeydukes?"

"Yeah, Snape brought us to his home," Harry confirmed before Ron could answer. "There are special wards here; no one can attack us."

"Is this where you spent the summer? I mean, after…" the redhead said with an embarrassed gesture.

Harry nodded.

"As for a manor, it looks more like a first class dungeon. Just what you'd expect of Snape," Ron snickered.

"This is the laboratory," Harry said, annoyed. "The basement. The rest of the Manor is above, but I'd prefer to stay here just now. It's more secure."

"Did you hear that screaming earlier?" Hermione quickly intervened. "I've never ever heard anything like it before. I wonder what sort of creature could've made it."

"Not Death Eaters, in any case," Harry said. "It sounded more like animals, something big."

"And there wasn't just one, by the noise they were making; there were at least a dozen. I wonder if they only went after Slytherins, or if they attacked all of Hogwarts…"

"They couldn't get to the dungeons without crossing a goodly part of the castle," Hermione pointed out. "What I'm wondering is how they could've got in and gone so far without being stopped."

The three of them were silent for a moment, running the pictures through their heads.

"Maybe they were looking for me," Harry finally said in a grave voice. "That's what Snape anticipated."

"If that's so, why did he bring you?" Ron asked skeptically.

"So I could get used to it, I think…I…I wasn't in a much of a hurry to go back to Hogwarts; it was supposed to be a quieter way of starting term than the usual one. He wasn't expecting this, that's for sure."

"Rather botched, so far as the quiet part…"

"And the worst is that now that I want to go back, I hate not being able to do anything," Harry groaned. "Merlin, I hope no one was hurt."

"There was at least one, from the shouting we heard in the corridor." Hermione shuddered. "But you promised Professor Snape, Harry. It's not an option for you to leave."

"I don't intend to. But maybe I should try and Floo-call Dumbledore."

"Harry, I sincerely doubt that the Headmaster is in his office at this hour. He's certainly out fighting the attackers, whoever they are, and I don't think now's time to disturb him."

"And it's not like I could actually help," Harry sighed. "I suppose we're going to have to wait here."

"Wow, just wow," Ron said with a slight smile. "Not that I'm wild about riding on Thestrals, especially when I can't even see them, or running through Hogwarts' dungeons with a three-headed dog hot on my heels, but you're really talking about doing nothing?"

Harry shot him an annoyed look, not knowing if he should laugh or get angry.

"I don't know what Snape did to you during the hols, but I like it. No more giant spiders or traveling through time, and fifty points for Gryffindor. I think I'm going to like this year," Ron continued, wearing a big smile this time.

"…and a horde of monsters invading Hogwarts. And Snape gone off only Merlin knows where. Yeah, fantastic, thanks," Harry said dryly.

"Oh, he'll come back," Ron said confidently. "Good old Snape is indestructible, and it's not for lack of trying…"

"He's tried so hard that he almost died, just a few days ago!" Harry shouted. "And to save me, for a change! Not even counting everything that happened in the cemetery, when Voldemort tried to sacrifice me in his little voodoo rite! I don't know what you did during the hols, but Severus spent his time saving me and risking his life for me! So don't you dare say a single word about him to me… He's just saved you too, after all!"

"Harry," Hermione said, her eyes wide, "we had no intention of speaking badly of Snape; Ron was joking. Of course we hope he'll come back safe and sound. I'm truly sorry about all that's happened over the hols, but we didn't have any way of joining you. We asked Dumbledore to help with the search, but he refused. In fact, he asked us if we thought you could be an Animagus, but we told him no. I'm sorry, Harry, really, it must've been really hard for you."

The boy cut her off with a wave as he fell back into his chair, his anger extinguished.

"I know, 'Mione. You don't need to apologize; you had nothing to do with it. I'm just…a bit stressed recently," he said, staring at the fireplace, as if he expected to see someone enter at any moment. "The summer was horrible, but in a way, it was still the best one I've ever had. Thanks to Snape. It's…" he sighed. "I've got so many things to tell you."

Without a word, his two friends moved closer, as Harry tried to summarize his summer for them, avoiding the events and details that would've taken too long to tell, which turned out to be more complicated than he would've thought. When he finally was silent, a half-hour later, the two Gryffindors had at least as many question as when he'd started.

"So it's because of the bracelet that you were able to escape, both times?" Hermione asked, clearly moved.

Harry nodded. "I'll never be able to thank you enough, Hermione. I'll never give it up, in any case. Even when I'm in my cat form, it stays there, but as a necklace, oddly. I really don't know how that happens."

"I still don't understand why it didn't lead you to the Burrow," Ron interrupted. "I'd have thought that'd be the first place you would've wanted to go."

"It wasn't really a matter of what I wanted," Harry explained. "It has something to do with my mother… She wanted it to be Snape."

"Harry, this isn't easy to say, but are you sure you want to believe all these stories?  I mean, I know that ghosts exist, but…Snape? I don't see why your mother would want you to end up with him. He's not exactly the most pleasant person in the world," Ron said.

"It's a long story. My mother and Snape knew each other at Hogwarts, and even before that.  They were friends. And Snape's really taken good care of me; I can't tell you everything, because I don't think he'd be all right with that…but he's not like you think he is."

"After all you've told us, I don't doubt this was the best possible choice," Hermione said gently.

The two boys looked at her, one of them with relief, the only with surprise.

"Still…" Ron said. "Snape? After the way he's treated you since you came to Hogwarts? It's hard for me to believe he's totally changed."

"Me too," Harry admitted reluctantly. "But I have no right to doubt him. And…I want to believe him, I suppose," he said.

"I still say you have a screw loose, mate," Ron said amicably. "But if it makes him want to give points to Gryffindor…I'm certainly not going to be the one to complain."

"Does he really think Voldemort's been weakened?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "I saw him in a vision…I don't think he'll pose a problem for a while. But that still leaves the Death Eaters and the others. Dementors…do you think that could be them at Hogwarts?"

"I doubt it. I didn't get the feeling that a blizzard had come up, or that the last clown in the world was dead," Ron said. "I'd wager it was animals, maybe bears?"

"Anyway, this isn't the time for you to go back to Hogwarts," Hermione said firmly. "Professor Snape is right; it's too dangerous."

"That really wasn't the problem," Harry said. "I'm not afraid to go back, not because of that…but I'd have liked a bit of time to rest before going back to classes. Really rest, without attacks from Death Eaters, Voldemort, bears or whatever. Apparently, that's too much to ask…."

"Just rest by the fire, with your paws tucked in, huh?" Ron said sympathetically. "But imagine how great it's going to be to wander around Hogwarts in your cat form! Actually, what's with this Shadow stuff?"

Harry smiled. "It's the name Snape gave me before he knew who I was…but I'd prefer you don't repeat it, all right? It's just something between him and me."

"And now us," the redhead added. "Shadow…not bad. I think that'd make an excellent last name."

"Honestly, I'd like it better if you'd avoid using it," Harry confessed.

Ron rolled his eyes, but by the look Hermione gave him, Harry knew she understood.

"So what are we supposed to call you, then? Kitty?  Blacky?"

Harry shrugged. "Why not?"

"I sort of like Blacky," Hermione said with a smile. "And besides, I'd have never thought that Snape lived in a manor. How big is it?"

"Big," Harry said. "And the park around it is huge. It's a bit far away from everything, but I like it a lot. It's really peaceful. This is probably going to seem bizarre to you," he said. Then, after hesitating, he added, "Snape said I can come back whenever I want, that the room I'm in will stay my own. And I think I really want to accept."

"Snape offered you a room in his house?" Ron asked, flabbergasted. "Bloody hell, mate, what's going on between the two of you? Are you sure he's not…I mean…you know?"

"No, I don't know," Harry said, fairly sure he wasn't going to like what was coming.

"Interested? In you, I mean?"

"Excuse me?" Harry choked out.

"You know very well what I mean. He hasn't tried to…flirt with you or anything?

"Ron!" Hermione cried.

"Listen, mate, I'm saying this for your benefit. I wouldn't want you to find yourself in his bed without seeing it coming," the redhead protested.

Time seemed to stop for an instant. Harry saw a quick flash of that evening, when he'd opened the professor's door and slipped in, searching for the comfort and security the man gave him. And the times when Snape had got up in the dead of night to comfort him after a nightmare, taking him in his arms as he would a little child, watching over him night after night.  How could it even cross Ron's mind, to see something unhealthy in all that?

A rage such as he'd rarely known took hold of him, and a moment later, a black cat, fur standing on end, jumped onto the boy with all its claws out.

Screams filled the room, bouncing off of the stone walls.  Ron cried out in pain as the sharp claws slashed his skin, while a panicked Hermione tried to trap the bundle of fur and rage ripping into the boy, the young cat growling in anger as it went after its best friend.

Hermione was the first to gather her wits. "Animagus Revelio!" she said desperately.

An instant later, the two boys were rolling on the floor, before suddenly stopping, Harry pinning Ron firmly to the ground, his fist clenched in his shirt. He was even paler than before he'd transformed, and the murderous look in his eyes left no doubt about his feelings.

"Don't. Ever. Again. Say. A. Word. About. Snape," he articulated, his voice shaking with anger.

A gentle but firm hand closed on his shoulder, and Harry quickly pulled back, still watching Ron.

With a worried look for the boy stretched out on the floor, who was watching them, stunned and speechless, Hermione gently pushed Harry away.

"That's enough, Harry. Ron said something stupid, but he certainly doesn't believe it," she said in her most soothing voice. "Calm down, please, I can't stand seeing you like this. The situation is already worrisome enough, don't you think? Please, Harry."

His eyes suddenly unfocused, the boy took two steps backwards, trembling slightly. "I…I'm sorry, I…"

Deciding that the worst was over, Hermione went to kneel next to Ron, who'd not dared to move yet.

"Nothing serious?"

"No," Ron said, still looking at his friend. "But I can't say I appreciated it much, being attacked by some sort of enraged puma. I don't want you to jump at my neck again, Harry, but seeing how you reacted, there really is something wrong."

"You can't understand," the boy murmured, his eyes looking lost as he contemplated the fireplace.

Why was it that every time something good happened to him, it all went pear-shaped? Wasn't that what was going to happen? If he went on seeking out Snape's presence and protection, people were going to think they were in a romantic relationship.

Clearly, he was no longer a ten-year-old looking for a parent, or something similar. And if he returned to the Manor without good reason, everyone would think he was sleeping with Snape. With Snape. All right, he wasn't a child any longer, but to make the leap from that to.... Merlin, Snape could've been his father. How mixed up was his life?

He closed his eyes, trying to feel the warmth of the fire on his face. All he wanted right now was for Snape to come back. For Ron and Hermione to go, and for him and Snape to finally be alone, safe, without anyone deciding what was good or bad for him.

Behind him, he could hear the murmur of conversation between his friends. Hermione seemed irritated, Harry thought. But she'd not contradicted Ron, had she? She probably thought the same as he did, without daring to admit it.

He heard her make a move toward him, probably to talk to him, but she didn't get the chance. Green flames appeared in the fireplace, and he was on his feet in a fraction of a second, his heart pounding. An instant afterward, he took a reluctant step backward from Dumbledore, whose robes were in disorder and his hair disheveled.

"Thank Merlin, you're here," he said, his voice full of relief.

"Professor, please, what's happening?" Hermione urged, stepping forward as quickly as Harry'd stepped back.

"Children, I'm afraid that Hogwarts suffered a new type of attack. Is Professor Snape with you?"

"No," Harry replied. "He Disapparated right away. He didn't tell us where he was going."

"Good, good," the Headmaster said, seeming not to believe a word of what he said.

"It's not good at all," Harry protested. "He can't…you know… He shouldn't have left again!"

Dumbledore rested his ever-kind eyes on the teenager facing him, his own flooded with worry. How could this boy, who'd only two months ago refused to drink a single one of the professor's potions without being forced to, be standing here in front of him, so concerned about the same professor as if his own life depended on it?

Oh, Harry had an enormous capacity to love, that was certain…and Severus was truly fortunate. No, he corrected himself, the word fortunate didn't apply to the Potions master. Severus had simply earned the right to a bit of peace, and he'd paid a heavy price for it. Hopefully, nothing would happen to spoil it all once again.

"Professor Snape knows what he's doing, Harry," Dumbledore said at last in his most confident voice. "I’m persuaded you have no need to be concerned."

"But he's not in any shape for this," the boy retorted. "He didn't take anything before he left. Merlin…does he always have to play the hero?"

The Headmaster couldn't help but smile. Yes, Severus and Harry definitely had every reason to get along…

"Harry, Professor Snape is an adult, a member of the Order, and an excellent fighter, among other things. I'm convinced he knows his limits perfectly, and all that implies."

His firm expression brought the boy's protests to an end. But not his worrying, the Headmaster noticed, watching as the boy turned his stubborn eyes toward his friends.

Something was wrong there as well, the Headmaster deduced from the embarrassed demeanor of the two teenagers.

But for the moment, there were more pressing problems.

"Harry, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I don't like having to leave you here alone."

"We've nothing to fear, with the wards," Harry interrupted him.

"You have nothing to fear," the Headmaster corrected, "but the wards only respond to your presence. Can I count on you not to leave the Manor and put your friends in danger?"

"For sure," the boy grumbled.

"It seems safer to leave you here for now, but you must not hesitate to contact me in my office at the slightest problem. Fawkes will find me right away if I'm not there. Could you tell Professor Snape to contact me as soon as he returns?"

Harry nodded reluctantly.

"Professor," Hermione said insistently. "What exactly is going on at Hogwarts? We heard shouting… Was someone hurt?"

There was an instant of silence, then a sigh. "Indeed, Miss Granger, there were wounded. I suppose it's senseless to hide it from you any longer. Hogwarts was attacked by a mixed horde of wolves and werewolves, led by Fenrir Greyback."

"Werewovles?" Ron gasped. "Ginny…is Ginny all right?"

"Your sister is safe and sound, Mr. Weasley; she's safe in Gryffindor tower, even as we speak, under the care of Professor McGonagall."

"We heard someone getting attacked just outside Professor Snape's office, Headmaster," Hermione explained calmly. "Are there many wounded?"

"There are, yes. The attack was sudden and very widespread; that's why we had to make certain that the attackers had left the castle. You understand that I cannot stay any longer; I'll come back and check that all is well, once things are a bit calmer. You should be able to quickly return to the Tower, rest assured. Do you need anything before I leave?" the Headmaster asked courteously.

"Where's Remus?" Harry asked slowly and icily.

The Headmaster appeared to stiffen. "That I do not know, Harry."

"You're lying. He was on a mission to the werewolves; he had to tell you something! Where is he?" His tone of voice was almost threatening now.

"Harry!" Hermione said desperately from behind him, but the boy didn't back down.

"I would've definitely preferred for Professor Lupin to inform us of this attack before it took place, but that evidently wasn't the case. I'm totally ignorant of what's become of Remus Lupin, Harry, you must believe me. We're currently trying to question the werewolves we've captured, but given their state, it's difficult to communicate with them."

"And if Remus was one of them?"

"No, his magical signature would've been recognized. He was not one of the assailants this evening," the Headmaster finished evenly.

"Which means he's in trouble…" Harry murmured.

"It's useless to draw premature conclusions…"

"If Remus didn't alert you, and he wasn't part of the attack, that's because he was caught, or maybe killed, you know that very well!" the boy shouted. "Why do you always have to play with the lives of people who're important to me? Why Remus? Why Snape?"

He knew he was on the verge of tears, and even closer to having hysterics, but he was completely incapable of stopping now that he'd started.

"I am sorry, Harry," the Headmaster said gently. "I've committed numerous offenses toward you, more than I could've ever realized, no doubt…but I beg you to consider this, my boy. Remus was a friend of your parents, but without the position that was offered to him at Hogwarts, he would've never had the chance to get close to you and form a friendship with you. In the same way, Professor Snape and you would've never had the opportunity to become close, and you must believe that I'm the first to be happy about that. But these are fully trained, adult wizards, Harry, Order members, and that before you were even born. We're in a war…and as much as I'd like, it's impossible to keep them out of combat. That would, however, be my dearest wish, my boy, for them as well as for you…."

"I don't believe you," Harry replied weakly as he closed his eyes. "You just want to win the war. Just win it. You couldn't care less about me, or Remus or Severus.  You just want them to fight for you. And die, if they have to. Oh, not me, of course, since I'm supposed to kill Voldemort first, isn't that right? But Remus or Snape, how important are they? Remus is because he'll help you get the werewolves' support, but that seems to have turned out badly, huh? And Severus for his potions. You're like Voldemort, exactly like Voldemort…"

A deathly silence answered him, and after a moment, Harry regretfully decided to do the only thing that was still possible: open his eyes. He'd expected to look into the Headmaster's hurt, blue, perhaps accusing eyes, but it was black and familiar eyes that answered him, making him jump up.

"Severus!"

The relief swept away all the emotions crashing together inside his head, and he rushed toward the Potions master before he stopped hesitantly, a step away from the man. Very well, he could hardly throw himself into his arms, especially given the circumstances.

"You're here," he said flatly.

The Potions master's lips thinned, before releasing a sigh.

"It would appear so. And we're going to have to have a serious conversation when I return, but I don't have time for that now. Albus, I must speak to you immediately, in your office, if it's possible?"

The old wizard nodded, before turning to the two Gryffindors who'd remained still and silent since the beginning of the scene. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Professor Snape will take you back as soon as all the danger has passed."

With a quick nod of his head, he threw a handful of powder into the fireplace and disappeared, leaving the two teenagers still in shock, and a Harry flushed with confusion, as well as a Potions professor whose face was inscrutable.

Silence spread through the room once again, even heavier than the moment before. Harry could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he stared at his feet and, just a step away, the toes of the black, muddied boots of the professor.

He would've given anything to be able to Disapparate, preferably to the other side of the country, or to a desert island, but that wasn't an option now. Gathering all the typically Gryffindor courage he could muster, he finally decided to look up and meet the black, impassivel eyes of the Potions master.

He stood there for a moment, trying to read something in them: disappointment perhaps, as well as anger and disgust. The moment he felt sure he was about to liquefy into a little puddle of shame on the laboratory floor, a hand lifted slowly and reached out for his face.

It was too much for Harry; before he could control his reflexes, he'd jumped, sidestepping backward to put himself out of reach…then he changed his mind, his face even redder, and moved back into place, letting his eyes drift to the floor again. Not so quickly that he missed the look on the professor's face, though: faint, really, just a slight tic of the cheek, his lips twisting as if he'd just received a slap…

Then the calloused palm came to rest lightly on the boy's forehead, making Harry look up, confused.

"Are you all right?"

The professor's voice was measured and calm. No anger, or scorn, nothing like Harry'd expected.

Feeling his shoulders slump as if a weight had just left them, Harry nodded, incapable of saying a word. The fingers on his forehead played with the unruly locks that covered his scar for an instant, and Harry closed his eyes, letting the relief course through him. He was there. Snape had come home, safe and sound, and he wasn't going to throw him out, or shout at him. He was certainly due for a good lecture on behavior, though, and even a punishment, perhaps, but everything was going to go back to normal. Mostly. As much as possible.

"I must go, I cannot stay any longer. Go up and fix something to eat for yourself and your guests. I'll be back in a few hours, at most."

Wetting his lips, the boy finally found the ability to speak again. "I'll set a plate aside for you. Come back, all right?"

His tone was much more pleading than he would've liked, but he couldn't care less. Ron and Hermione could think what they wanted at this point, and that was perfectly fine with him.

The professor took his turn to nod. "No nonsense. And Harry…thank you for not trying to leave."

Without a glance for the other two Gryffindors, he stepped into the fireplace.

Harry stared for a moment at the flames that'd returned to their normal color, breathing in and out deeply.

"How long was he there?" he finally asked as he turned toward his friends.

"He Apparated in just at the middle of Dumbledore's little lecture about the war and the professors," Ron answered. "Rather discreetly, but I don't know how you managed to miss it."

"Splendid," Harry sighed. "I'm in for the full lecture on respect for one's elders and how to behave in a crisis situation. Just what I was need."

Ron didn't answer right away, but something in his eyes caught Harry's attention. Something akin to hesitation, and a certain amusement.

Shifting from one foot to another, Ron finally decided to say, "Listen, mate, this might seem a bit strange, since we were just scratching each other's eyes out a few minutes ago, but…maybe I said something stupid before."

Lifting an eyebrow, Harry faced him, his arms crossed in front of him. "Maybe?"

His shoulders shaking with a small, embarrassed laugh, Ron finally decided to look him in the eyes. "Admit that's it's not very easy to imagine what you and Snape could have in common all of a sudden…I don't know how to start. When you're in your cat form, it's not as bizarre, but seeing the way Snape looked at you just now, and what he said…  I suppose I understand, all right? A bit," he offered with a smile, and an apology in his eyes.

"And what is it that you understand, exactly?" Harry asked, only half-convinced.

Once again, Ron had that little mocking glint in his eyes. "Let's say that if he wants to play mother hen with you and you're agreeable…I suppose everyone's happy with that, then. And, fifty points for Gryffindor, after all!"

"Excuse me?" Harry choked on the words. "But what…that's ridiculous!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a knowing look without trying to hide their little smiles.

"You're completely off the mark!" Harry protested.  "He's simply…he's taken care of me this summer, and really, we get on rather well when no one meddles in our affairs. That's got nothing to do with…  Do you have other stupid ideas like that one?"

He could feel his face flush to almost purple, but apparently waving his hands in the air wasn't enhancing his credibility. Taking a deep breath, he made it a point of honor to assume an open attitude, his arms crossed and his eyes as neutral as possible.

"Harry, there's noting wrong in that," Hermione said gently. "It's even good news if you…"

"That's enough," the boy interrupted. "You're both my friends and I adore you, but if this conversation goes any further, I'm going to end up angry. Please?"

"All right," Hermione gave in. "It's probably not a good time anyway. Professor Snape said something about eating: I'll admit I'm not really hungry, but if tea were possible, I'd not say no."

Harry nodded. "We ate just before we left as well. I suppose he just wanted to give me something to do. I'm still going to make something in case he…"

This time, Ron and Hermione tried to hide their knowing looks, but they didn't escape Harry's notice; he rolled his eyes.

"Come on, let's go. I'll give you the grand tour," he said with a wave toward the stairway.

Slightly relieved, they went up into the Manor with a lighter step. It was almost like going back up to Gryffindor tower after a Potions class, Harry thought…except he already missed the dungeon.

"My room is here," he said, pointing to his door on the landing,' and Snape's is just opposite. The dining room's at the end."

Ron let out a little whistle of admiration. "Rather impressive; it's really big and well-kept. I suppose there're house-elves."

"No, they wouldn't be of much use anyway. I don't think Snape uses many of the rooms when I'm not here. And even when I am…we sort of stick to the downstairs."

"That's strange," Hermione said pensively as she advanced down the hallway. "It doesn't look like the old family manors you see in magazines…"

The two boys stared at her in disbelief.

"Oh, enough, I don't see what's wrong with reading 'My Wizarding Home' or 'Magical Décor.'"

"Don't tell me you're already thinking about your future home," Ron groaned. "That's the sort of magazine my mother reads."

"She lends them to me when she's finished," Hermione confirmed. "Whatever, there're magnificent photos of old wizarding family dwellings, but nothing like this place. It's like it came directly out of a catalogue."

"It's not a family estate," Harry agreed. "Snape's said some rather odd things about the Manor; I'm not exactly sure how he came by it, but he doesn't seem to like it much. I wonder why he keeps it. It's much too large for a single person."

"Maybe," Ron said, "but it has class. Snape Manor…has a rather nice ring to it, and it's Snape's sort of…well, you know," he finished, embarrassed.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know, but there's something about it that isn't right. I'll have to try and learn more if I have the time. Who wants tea?"

Opening the doors in the kitchen, he took out a few pots and quickly began to fix an evening snack.

Opting for the warmth of the dining room, where a fire still burned in the grate, they sat around the table.

"I'm not complaining about being here, safely sipping mint tea, but I'd still really like to know what's going on at Hogwarts," Ron admitted. "Werewolves…if students were bitten, then parents are going to want to take their children home as quickly as possible."

"And they might want to have Hogwarts closed," Harry added. "Bloody hell, I really hope nothing happened to Remus; I can't believe he didn't sound the alarm beforehand. There's really something wrong there, no matter what Dumbledore says."

"It's the full moon, Harry. Maybe he's not really conscious just now."

"It's not just that. I know Remus, and if he'd known I was in trouble, he would've come right away. It's been a month since all of this started, so that means Dumbledore wasn't able to contact him, don't you think?"

Hermione fidgeted in her chair, ill-at-ease. "I'm sure he would've come if he could've…but apparently, the situation with the werewolves is rather complicated. No use in imagining the worst, Harry. Best to wait until you know more."

He shook his head. "At least if they close Hogwarts, I'll have someplace to go."

"Here, you mean?" Ron asked. Then, when Harry confirmed this with a nod, Ron added, "You know, my parents wanted you to come our house when they heard about the Mug…your family. Our door is always open, all right? You don't have to stay here."

Before Harry had the time to answer, Hermione jumped into action. "Harry, when your uncle and aunt died, the Weasleys offered to be your guardians, but Dumbledore said it was impossible, that you wouldn't want …"

The boy was silent for a long moment, staring at the wall in front of him. Dumbledore…

"He was right," he admitted at last.

"But then who? It's not the Ministry, is it?" Hermione pushed him. Then, seeing her friend's face pale, she added, "Oh, I'm sorry; it's really tactless on my part, I shouldn't have asked you that…"

"No," Harry interrupted. "It's fine. It's just…don't tell anyone, all right? If it were to get out, it would make things more difficult…bloody hell, I wonder how the Slytherins would take it."

Hermione let out a gasp. "It's not really Professor Snape?"

"No. Not really," Harry replied. Then he added with a sigh, "It's Dumbledore. He's obtained temporary guardianship, for the time it takes for things to calm down and until I can go back to Hogwarts. I suppose it'll last until my next birthday."

"Wow, but that's great!" Ron exclaimed. "You're officially the Headmaster's pet! But you're right, I don't think the Slytherins will appreciate the news," he said, bursting into laughter.

Harry sat frozen, staring obstinately into his cup.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked softly. "This doesn't seem to please you very much."

He shook his head. "It's not that. It's…complicated. And in a way, you're right. It's Snape who'll be making decisions about me, if there are any. Dumbledore promised him. It's just paperwork, nothing more."

A long silence stretched out after his declaration.

"Harry," Hermione said at last. "I know it's confusing right now, but I'm certain they're doing their best for you. Everything will work our, I'm sure."

He shrugged. "It's not really important. Once I'm at Hogwarts, it'll just be another year like any other. With werewolves on top of it all, apparently. By the way, you've not told me about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," he said, in an effort to redirect the conversation.

"Because there isn't one," Ron answered. "It's totally bizarre. With Snape absent, and one fewer professor at least, the High Table was rather empty. Dumbledore said he'd handle the classes until someone else takes over. He didn't say anything more, but the other professors didn't seem happy. McGonagall was livid…"

"With the curse, that's not surprising at all. But it doesn't make much sense—he'd not be here for a full year anyway. No one must want the position, after what's happened to the others."

"I don't know," Hermione said, "I had the impression that it was something else." She shook her head. "A Defense professor would've come in handy this evening, in any case. Oh, did you get your OWL results, Harry?"

He couldn't help but smile at her eagerness. "Not really, outside of my Potions mark, but I suppose I can guess yours! Let me see… O's in every subject?"

Hermione had the good grace to blush, all the while shaking her head in frustration. "Not in Defense, no."

"I wonder how many I got," Harry murmured. "I didn't get my marks, but I suppose Snape must have them."

"Do you think the owls lost track of you in your cat form?" Ron asked, interested.

"No idea," Harry laughed. "Hedwig is still at Hogwarts, but with the Fidelius Charm on the Manor, no owl can deliver post.  Snape must know about my marks, I suppose; I wonder why he didn't tell me."

"Maybe because you didn't ask him?" Hermione suggested.

Harry'd opened his mouth to ask her what she meant by that, when he heard a door close in the hallway. In an instant, he was on his feet.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione cried, pulling him back by his sleeve. She and Ron had already drawn their wands and pointed them at the door.

"This is ridiculous," the boy protested. "It's…"

"Unnecessary, in fact," Snape interrupted calmly as he stepped into the room. "But I appreciate your caution, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. You can lower your wands; Harry has nothing to fear here."

The two of them quickly put away their wands, slightly confused despite the professor's approval. The memory of the night when they'd attacked Snape in the Shrieking Shack in third year seemed to hover between them for a moment.

"Nothing out of the ordinary while I was gone?" the professor casually asked at last.

"No," Harry replied. "How's the situation at Hogwarts?"

"The assailants were pushed back, and the wounded taken to St. Mungo's. Most of them, at least."

"Most of them?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Snape considered him for a long moment. "We'll have certain matters to discuss. But for now, I'd like to take these two Gryffindor prefects back to their tower, so they can fulfill their duties and demand some order of their little housemates."

Hermione suddenly took a frantic step forward. "I'd almost forgotten. Merlin, it's our first day as prefects and we're here, peacefully drinking tea while…"

"Miss Granger," Snape intervened, "Professor McGonagall is in control of the situation; your primary role will be that of quelling the rumors concerning your death and Harry's."

The three teenagers froze at the words.

"Concerning that," the professor continued, with a pointed look for the startled dark-haired boy, "I'd appreciate if what Harry's told you—whatever he's managed to tell you—stays within these walls. Outside of the fact that he's alive and well, all the information about him must remain an absolute secret until he returns. Have I made myself clear?"

Ron and Hermione nodded vigorously, not inclined to challenge the professor.

"Mr. Weasley, your parents have been informed, and unless you do not feel safe at Hogwarts, they want you to remain at the castle for now."

"That's fine with me," the boy muttered.

"As for you, Miss Granger, your parents have not yet been reached, but if you would like to go home, the arrangements will obviously be made."

"Thanks, Professor, but I prefer to stay at Hogwarts," Hermione replied firmly.

"Gryffindor," Snape murmured. "Very well. In that case, if you'll follow me…"

"One minute," Harry interrupted, then turned to his friends. "Listen, I know that Hedwig can't come to me, but if you have something to send, ask Dumbledore, all right? And stop by and see if Hedwig's all right, if you can. I haven't seen her in a month."

Snape sighed, but not in irritation, Harry sensed. Something was bothering him…

"Mr. Potter will indeed not be returning to classes right away. However, I believe I'm not wrong in saying that you'll see him at Hogwarts very shortly."

Harry shot him a sideways glance. "I thought that was up to me," he objected.

"Completely," Snape confirmed. "That's exactly what's bothering me right now."

The boy opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the professor raised a hand for silence. "Later."

Harry reluctantly nodded and turned to his friends. "See you soon, then," he said with a shrug.

Both of them told him goodbye, their eyes bright and slightly tinged with regret as they followed the Potions master into the laboratory. He reappeared a moment afterward, alone, and hurried back to the dining room where he'd left Harry.

Harry'd sat at his place again, and seemed lost in the contemplation of his teacup. Tired, thought Snape as he met his eyes. He could easily understand it. Seating himself opposite the boy, he served himself a cup of tea.

"I suppose this quiet return wasn't as calm as I'd foreseen," he finally said.

"You knew something was going to happen," Harry said softly.

"I thought there might be an attempt this evening," Snape corrected. "But I thought it would take place at the feast, if at all, and certainly not that it'd succeed. I'd have never taken you if I'd foreseen that, Harry," he said, his black eyes fixed on the boy's.

"I know," Harry answered. "Ron and Hermione told me to come back here, but I didn't want to listen to them. I couldn't leave them there while someone was being attacked just outside."

Snape grumbled, "Clearly. I suppose I should've anticipated that. But we had an agreement, Harry, and I don't appreciate seeing you set it aside so negligently."

Toying nervously with his cup, the boy shot him a look that was both guilty and imploring. "Please…tell me what actually happened. Who was hurt? Where is Remus? Where did you go?"

Severus thought he could decipher a slight note of reproach in that last question. "Very well," he finally said. "First, the complete account, then the lecture on your behavior, I presume."

Harry smiled weakly. "I’m sorry about that scene with Dumbledore, really, I was…please, Professor?"

Snape nodded. "The attack took place just after we'd arrived. In other words, once the students had left for their respective common rooms, and the professors had dispersed. It would seem the wolves successfully got into the castle through several entry points. Most of them came from the garden, others from various underground tunnels. However it was, they attacked several parts of the castle at the same time, making defense more difficult, especially given their number."

"There were only wolves, weren't there?" Harry interrupted. "Dumbledore said something about werewolves."

Snape gave him an irritated look. "Werewolves and wolves, indeed. May I continue?"

"Sorry," Harry offered.

"Be that as it may, it was difficult to counter the attack. Fortunately, the pack that undertook the assault in the Slytherin dungeons wasn't looking to attack students."

"Wait a second, there's something I don't understand," Harry interjected. "How did the wolves, or the werewolves, while we're on it, how could they get into the common rooms? You have to know the password."

"They had them," Snape calmly replied.

"But that doesn't make sense! They can't even speak, they aren't really aware of what they're doing."

"Believe me, these were. And they could speak as well, at least enough to say the passwords."

"I don't understand…"

"Neither do I," the professor admitted. "The fact is that the werewolves present were as aware as any human. Perhaps not as intelligent, but completely masters of their will. This is an ominous development; it means they've found a way to use their strength in a reasoned manner…and even more destructively."

"Remus definitely knows something; he had to have tried to warn the Order and get himself caught; he was on a mission with them!"

Snape sighed. "Which brings us to your other question: the wounded."

Harry felt a lead weight drop to his stomach.

"Lupin took part in the attack," the professor continued. "When the werewolves came out of the Forbidden Forest, they went straight for Hagrid's hut. Lupin, ever the good Gryffindor, tried to protect him."

"Hagrid?" Harry murmured. "No! They didn't… Remus…"

"Before you twist your brain in two, Lupin is in the infirmary at Hogwarts, under Madam Pomfrey's care," Severus said. "He's not in very good shape just now—he's unconscious—but he should recover. You'll be able to see him when he regains consciousness."

"And Hagrid?" Harry murmured.

The professor's lips thinned.  "Hagrid was no longer there when I arrived."

"No longer there? What's that mean, no longer there?"

"There was evidence of a struggle, and…Hagrid's dog had been killed."

"Fang?" Harry choked out. "But he's the size of a cow!"

"Harry, he was attacked by a pack of wolves and werewolves…he didn't have a chance."

"But Hagrid…maybe he ran off into the Forest; other creatures could've come to his rescue. The centaurs, for example…"

"The centaurs don't get mixed up in these matters," Snape interrupted calmly. "I might be wrong, but I think Hagrid was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Harry gasped. "But that doesn’t make sense."

"It does if he knew something that might betray them. Hagrid is the first person I thought of when I wondered how this bunch of degenerate fleabags could get into Hogwarts."

"So, that's where you Disapparated to…"

Snape nodded. "Into the Forbidden Forest, about a hundred meters from Hagrid's hut."

"Straight into the wolf's mouth," Harry pointed out.

"That was more or less the idea, actually. But I arrived too late."

"Oh really," Harry hissed, "you would've been brilliant in the middle of a pack of wolves, without magic. Perfectly brilliant."

"The werewolves were all at Hogwarts," Snape replied dryly. "There was no longer anyone near the hut, and even so, I certainly wouldn't have had any trouble getting rid of them. Your confidence in my abilities is truly flattering," he said sarcastically.

"You know very well what I mean. You didn't take any potions before leaving; you could very well still be there, if you'd been attacked!" Harry shouted. The cup he was holding seemed about to break, but he couldn't seem to loosen his grip. There was no question that Snape saw his fingers shaking…either from frustration or fear, he realized afterward.

"Very unlikely. Whatever, that little expedition enabled me to take Remus Lupin back to Hogwarts before it was too late. I suppose the stakes were worth the risk," Snape said nonchalantly.

For a long moment, student and professor remained motionless, Harry searching Snape's eyes for all he could find there, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Please don't do this," he ended by saying.

"Excuse me?" Snape said as he raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask me to choose between you and Remus, all right? Because I can't lose you, either one of you."

The professor stayed silent for an instant, thoughtful. "Was this the topic of that little fit of hysterics earlier, in the laboratory?"

Harry looked away. "Doesn't matter. You promised to be here. Do you intend to keep that promise, or do you plan to charge headfirst into every single trap until you get yourself killed?"

"Harry, there was nothing as dramatic as you seem to think there was."

"Yes, there was," the boy replied stubbornly. "You and Remus, you're both the same."

"A comparison that I'm decidedly not certain I appreciate," Snape retorted. "Now, could you remind me of the reason why you didn't return straightway to the Manor when the situation deteriorated?"

"I've already told you, I couldn't leave—" Harry began before stopping abruptly.

Snape raised an ironic eyebrow.

"It's not the same thing," the boy muttered.

"No, indeed, I don't lapse into unnecessary heroics," the professor replied.

"It wasn't…"

"No matter. We'll discuss your personal notions of safety rules, and that little outburst with the Headmaster again tomorrow. It seems to me that a good night's sleep wouldn't be amiss to calm both our minds."

One in particular, Harry understood. Perhaps, yes, maybe he was slightly emotional and susceptible lately. Merlin, a cat's life was much less complicated.

"But before we do, I'd like you to promise me something," Snape continued.

Harry looked up at him in question.

"Stop putting yourself deliberately in danger.  I cannot fight effectively if I must think that you're perhaps off risking your life by playing the hero. You're sixteen, Harry. Don't do any more than is necessary, and do it carefully. Promise me to think before acting, to think of how to stay safe and sound above all else."

The boy stayed still, staring at him, his mouth hanging open. This was very nearly what he would've liked to make Snape promise. The idea struck him forcefully, and for an instant, he was simply incapable of answering.

Then the professor spoke again, his voice softer and lower than Harry'd heard it in a long while.

"I can promise to come back, Harry. But that would be useless if there were no one waiting for me."

And with that, the pieces of the puzzle seemed to finally fall into place in the boy's mind. Harry felt a smile overtake him. "Come home safe and sound. I can do that, if you do."

Severus slowly nodded without looking away.

"Home," Harry murmured.

This time, it was Snape who smiled. "Yes, home."

And for a few moments, it was almost easy to believe it.

The shadows barely stood out from behind the thick curtains, but Harry couldn't pull his eyes away.  Nothing but indistinct outlines cast by the full moon, but it was easy to imagine wolves there, or maybe the silhouettes of men, or even stags.

Sighing, he threw back the covers and headed for the window.  It'd been well into the night when he and Snape had gone to their rooms, and he felt exhausted now.  Enough, he believed, to fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow…but that hadn't been the case.

Pictures of the day swam through his head, over and over, not any less harrowing.  The shouts in the corridor.  Ron and Hermione.  Snape Disapparating.  Ron's insinuations.  Remus wounded.  Hagrid gone…   How could he sleep?

Drawing open the curtains, he sat on the windowsill, his eyes turned toward the park.  The room was located on the main floor, but the ground fell away, down towards the park, affording him a large open view of the surrounding area.

Yes, he could've almost imagined the shadows of a stag and dog out there, underneath the trees…and Remus with them, of course.  Maybe even Lily watching them with amusement.  Who would've thought of his mother in the midst of all that?  Remus and Severus risking their lives, Hogwarts under siege, his own life suddenly so complicated.  What good did it do him to have Voldemort's powers if he wasn't able to master them most of the time?  And if…

Light knocking at the door pulled him from his reverie.

"Come in."

The door opened and closed soundlessly, giving way to a wizard with drawn features.  Without a word, Snape came to join him, and sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.  Harry thought he could detect a trace of worry in the eyes searching his face.

"I couldn't get to sleep," he apologized.

Snape nodded. "It was a rather long day."

"I was tired earlier.  I suppose I should've taken a Sleeping Draught."

"Potions aren't the remedy for everything," Severus replied calmly.

Harry glanced at him in surprise.  It wasn't the first time the Potions master had said that…  And curiously, he couldn't help but experience a certain comfort in hearing it.

"It's just too hard to sleep while Remus is in the infirmary and Hagrid is maybe dead by now.  If only I could do something.  I can't even sense Voldemort's thoughts anymore."

"Which is rather a good thing," Snape said.  "That means he is still too weak to try anything, now that your new powers have mastered his intrusions.  You cannot always save the world, Harry.  No one expects that of you."

"Really?" Harry asked with a small, bitter smile.  "I thought that was still how it worked.  I save the world and you save me."

"Harry," Snape huffed out, "By now, I thought you understood."

"Understood what exactly?" Harry asked suspiciously.  He thought he knew the answer very well, but he needed to hear it.

"That's only the war, idiot child.  I'm not here to win a stupid battle.  I'm here for you."

The boy let out a long sigh.  "Yeah, that's what Ron seems to think as well."

"Ron?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"After you left earlier, he said something really stupid," Harry stopped hesitantly.  He wasn't at all sure he wanted to witness Snape's reaction to Ron's accusations.

"And how ridiculous did Mr Weasley make himself seem?" Severus asked.

Reluctantly, Harry continued, "Roughly…he wanted to know if there was, you know, something between you and me.  Like a romantic relationship."

He sensed more than saw Snape stiffen.

"And I lost control of my powers a bit," Harry finished, distraught.

"Meaning?"

"I transformed and then I jumped on him.  I mean, really, I scratched him and bit him like…what did he call it.  Oh, yeah, an enraged puma."

In the light of the full moon, he saw a slight smile stretch the professor's lips.

"I really didn't think," Harry continued.  "I was crazy with rage and that's what happened.   I don't even know if I could've transformed back.  Hermione took charge of, er, calming me down."

"I see," the professor said slowly before sighing.  "I don't know where to begin.  What's on your mind the most, Harry—your powers or Mr. Weasley's obscene insinuations?"

"I don't think I know," he finally confessed without daring to meet the professor's eyes.

Severus nodded solemnly.  For a long moment, he was silent, gathering his thoughts.  When he finally began to speak, it was in a calm and measured voice, heavy with regret.

"It's a bit strange to think that the person I actually loved, Harry, was your mother."

Harry's breath caught.  "The only one?"

Snape nodded.  "Your mother and I met when we were children.  She was my only true friend, and as we grew up, my feelings naturally evolved.  She was…everything to me.  In a way, she was the only person who really counted through all those years.  My parents weren't really the sort of people to whom it was easy to become attached, and as far as I know, they thought the same of me."

"I know what you mean," Harry murmured, pictures of Vernon and Petunia flashing through his mind.

"I don't doubt it," Snape answered gently.  "Like your aunt and uncle, my parents had never wanted me there.  In truth, I don't think they ever wanted to make a family."  He was lost for a moment in his memories, before going on, "Lily was always there for me.  When I later had to choose between her and what I thought to be the only way to achieve a glorious destiny…   I could've never chosen anything but her, Harry, you must believe me.  But everything turned out wrong."

He shook his head.  "Losing her was the worst thing that'd ever happened to me.  Even if she chose your father in the end, even if her feelings for me faded, I was never able to do the same.  I was never able to forget her."  He grimaced.

"The Dark Lord had long insisted on my meeting other witches, purebloods.  But I succeeded in convincing him that my work as Potions master could only suffer from it, and he ended by abandoning the idea.  A relief, you can imagine."

Then, searching Harry's eyes and fixing them, he went on, "There never was, and there never will be, anyone but your mother for me, Harry.  Rather pathetic, I know.  I've never been a great romantic, really.  Loving once was enough for me, I suppose."

Holding his eyes, Harry answered softly, "She loved you too, I'm sure of it."

Snape gave a small bitter smile.  "She loved your father, Harry, have no doubt about it.  Even more than she could've ever loved me.  They were a very close and happy couple, really.  Thinking about it, I can't help but say that she made the right choice.  Despite the tragic fate that befell your parents…"

He shook his head.  "They were perfect for each other, Harry.  You're the best proof of that."

Harry swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to be," Severus replied.  "Anyway, that part of me died with Lily.  Mr. Weasley's fears on that matter are entirely misguided and unnecessary."

Harry nodded.  He was relieved to have been able to talk to Severus about it, but the professor's account had left a weight in his chest.

"In reality," the professor continued a bit more hoarsely, "the simple notion of feeling fondness for someone became impossible for me after she disappeared.  Not that I'd ever been particularly sociable, obviously," he added with a slight smile.  "The risk of becoming fond of someone, and losing them…it wasn't worth it."

Yes, Harry could almost feel the pain in the professor's voice.  But it was his own fear that formed a lump in his throat now.

"And then you arrived," Snape added.  "Shadow.  You.  I don't know how I was able to deny seeing anything but James in you for so long…James who'd stolen Lily's eyes.  But that had nothing to do with you, after all.  And what you are, Harry, what's brought us closer these last few weeks, I know I don't want to lose it."

Harry felt himself relax all of a sudden as he met the professor's eyes.  "I understand, you know.  That you hated me from the start, I mean.  Everyone tells me I look like James.  In your place, I would've hated me too."

Snape shook his head.  "It was irrational and petty.  Completely inappropriate behavior for someone my age.  Albus told me often enough.   But none of that's important anymore.  I hope you can believe that."

"I know," Harry said softly, "your cat, huh?"

Severus tensed.  "I hope that jest didn't offend you," he said stiffly.

"On the contrary. I liked it.  Being your cat, I mean.  It was almost like having a family."  He hesitated for a moment.  "Do you think it would be possible for…"

"Yes?" Snape encouraged him when he stopped.

"You know, when I saw your memories the other day, not on purpose, when I, er, used Legilimency?"

"I remember very well," the professor grumbled.

"Uh, yeah, so, well…you told Petunia…oh, no, forget about it."  With a groan of frustration, he looked toward the window.  It would've been good to be out there, flying…

"Harry, go on.  I'm not going to be angry."

"It's not that.  It's…" He took a deep breath, and summoning his courage, he said, "Petunia said I could've been your son, and you told her yes, by a few years.  Is that really possible?  That I'm your son, I mean?"

The long look Snape gave him only increased his anxiety.  Something made the professor's lips twist, then he finally opened his mouth to answer.  "No, Harry, you're not my son.  It's enough to look at you to know that: you're the spitting image of James.  And more handsome, if I might say.  Lily's features softened his…   In any case, I never had a physical relationship with your mother, Harry.  Merlin, I couldn't even tell her I loved her, so how could there've been?" he groaned, feeling his stomach knot with the memories.

In front of him, he saw Harry's face fall slightly.  Merlin, at times the boy could seem so pathetic.  How could he want to be the son of an ex-Death Eater, one who'd caused his parents' downfall, nothing less?  And yet…  He cleared his throat.

"Harry, listen to me.  No, you certainly are not my biological son.  But the ties of blood aren't everything, at least when it comes to family.  Lily was more my family than my parents could've ever been.  If that's what you want…" He took a deep breath. "I'd certainly have no objection to us establishing this type of relationship between the two of us."

"You don't have to do that," the boy answered quickly.

"No, indeed," Snape replied. "It's a completely selfish and self-serving suggestion on my part."

"Self-serving?" Harry asked, astonished and disconcerted.  "I don't understand."

"The laboratory is overrun with mice; I desperately need a cat to hunt them down," Snape said in his most serious tone of voice.

Harry smiled at him, the tension he'd not even felt suddenly leaving his shoulders.  "I meant what I said, Professor," he went on.  "You don't owe my mother anything.  Even if she led me here, you've already done a great deal for me.  It's me who owes you a debt, really."

"And I also meant what I said, Potter.  A debt…do you think my life is ordered only by obligations and debts?" he asked dryly.

"I…no, that's not what I meant," Harry exclaimed quickly.

"I'm probably not the best model for a father figure you could imagine.  Actually, I don't have the slightest experience in the matter, and my knowledge of family theory is rudimentary.  But if you like, I'm ready to try.  You have no obligation either, Harry, let that be clear.  Only know that the door is open…"

Harry took a moment to look at him, his mouth open and his eyes sparkling.

"Are you serious?"

"As serious as I can be.  I know our relationship has changed much recently, and you have every reason to mistrust me and my steadfastness, but I can assure you that my intentions toward you are completely firm.  Whatever you decide, I will always be here if you need me."

The boy stayed silent for a long moment, and Severus could almost see the thoughts racing through his head. 

When Harry spoke finally spoke again, his voice was slow and earnest.  "When Voldemort tried to reach me the other day in the dungeon, to make me go out, he used you."

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but Harry lifted a hand to stop him.

"He sent me visions.  A little like in a Pensieve…and a little like what Malfoy and Bellatrix did.  Except this time, it was you.  You were with Dumbledore, and you were telling him that you couldn't stand me, that I was obnoxious and that you'd had enough of playing at this farce."

He fixed his eyes on Snape's to make sure he understood what he meant.  "But it didn't work.  I didn't believe it.  I couldn’t."  He sighed.  "I trust you, all right?  I trust you."

He easily read the new measure of respect in the professor's eyes, and something that almost looked like gratitude.

"Thank you, Harry," he breathed out.

"It's for me to thank you.  And if you're sure about wanting me…   I know I'm totally cracked, and I'm not sure I know more about it than you, but…  Yes, I'd like to try as well."

There was a sudden lull in the conversation as the two wizards studied each other, with slight smiles on their faces.  Then, with a flick of his wand, Snape made two bottles of butterbeer appear, then held one out to Harry.

"I suppose this is cause for celebration," he said as he uncapped his own.

Smiling outright now, Harry held out his hand to tap their bottles together.  "To the future."

"To the future," Snape echoed.

Turning their eyes toward the park, they drank their butterbeers in long gulps.

For an instant, Harry thought that this was probably the happiest moment of his life.  Just peaceful, he thought to himself.  Just peaceful, after a horrible day.  The memories of it flooded his mind, and he sobered.

"Professor…Severus.  About what happened earlier, I wouldn't want you to think…   I mean, I'm not afraid of you."

Snape looked at him, lifting an ironic eyebrow.  "You're going to have to be more specific if you want me to understand what you're saying.  The day's been very long and rather full."

"Earlier in the laboratory, when you came back," Harry explained.  "When you wanted to touch me and I stepped away.  It wasn't you.  It was just a reflex.  I know very well you wouldn't hurt me," he stated as firmly as he could.

But Snape, trained to notice everything, sensed the question in his declaration.  He shook his head.  "Merlin, Harry.  No, I'd never raise a hand to you, not in that way.  Whatever I might've done in my career as a Death Eater, I never had the slightest impulse to strike a child…not even you, despite our past history."

"I know, Professor," Harry repeated.

"I'm not so sure," Snape said.

There was silence, then Harry went on, "I'm not really a child, you know.  You could…I don't know.  You might say I always manage to hit on the precise thing that makes you beside yourself.  But I don't do it on purpose, I swear."

"Harry…"  Severus stretched out a hand to the boy's shoulders and pulled him close to himself.  After a second's hesitation, Harry let go and leant against the professor, who wrapped him in his arms.

Oh, Merlin.  Closing his eyes, Harry gave in to the feeling that filled him, that of being protected.

"Harry," Snape continued gently, "you're a child.  Clearly you are.  You've perhaps passed beyond your childhood years, but that changes nothing of the fact that you're still only a young boy who has the right to be protected, and to want to be protected. Perhaps you seem older than you are, but it seems to me that just yesterday you were eleven, and you narrowly missed falling from that bloody broom in the middle of the match.  Whatever you do, Harry, you could never push me to hurt you.  The idea of striking you has never crossed my mind, not even after that episode with the Pensieve."

Harry buried his head a bit more in the wizard's robes at these words.  If only he could forget that incident….

"On the other hand…you saw my memories the other day, didn't you?"

Harry nodded, unable to speak.  Snape was right. He was eleven and he only wanted to stay there, listening to the professor comforting him, without having to worry about the rest of it.

"So, you know what I think about the way your uncle treated you."

Harry shuddered and lifted his head, finally finding the will to speak.  "Thanks," he murmured.  "For what you did…avenging me for what he did…thanks."

The professor ran a hand through the boy's hair, trying to soothe the tension that this memory had created in him.  "It was only justice," he said.  "After all, he hurt my cat, didn't he?"

Harry smiled, closing his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Severus continued.  "I'll never raise a hand to you, and I wouldn't allow anyone else to do it.  If I'm able, I'll not permit anyone to hurt you, full stop.  That's a promise."

Whether or not Harry heard this last part of the professor's speech, the effect was the same.  His head on Snape's chest, the boy fell asleep, a peaceful smile on his face, and he didn't even awaken when Snape lifted him gently in his arms to put him to bed.

***

The curtains were drawn, but that didn't keep Harry from realizing that the sun was already well up when he opened his eyes.

Images of the night before immediately filled his head.  Hogwarts.  The attack.  Ron.  Remus.  Hagrid.  Snape…

Had all that actually happened?  At the thought of Remus and Hagrid, worry knotted his stomach, but it was Snape's words that stood out above all the rest.

It was probably selfish on his part, but…  Had he really said what he'd said?  Had he suggested being a family with him?  Snape…of all people…but that was exactly what he'd been looking for, of course. 

His Snape.

He buried his head in the pillow for an instant, a slight smile on his face.  Yes, Remus was bad off at Hogwarts, and Hagrid had disappeared.  No, the problems weren't going to magically disappear.  But now it seemed as if something stood between him and his nightmares, or rather someone.  An adult who was there to watch over him and take care of him.  Protect him.

He stayed a minute more, cradled by this new and comforting feeling, before finally deciding to get up.

A shower later, he headed for the kitchen, where he found lunch already made and waiting for him.  Snape was starting to know his tastes, it seemed.  Impatient, he quickly consumed his meal, then took the steps down to the dungeon, four at a time.

He couldn't deny a certain apprehension; how was it going to be, finding himself in Snape's presence after the scene of last evening?

But the knot in his stomach relaxed when the wizard turned to greet him, a slight smile on his face.  One truly had to know Snape to understand that he was smiling, he thought, so slight was the facial expression.

But Harry knew it.  Or rather, he sensed it.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks, and you?"

The wizard nodded. 

"Any news of Remus?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I spoke with Albus this morning, and Lupin hasn't awakened yet.  He promised to alert us as soon as that's the case."

"I suppose it's not worth it for me to go see him while he's unconscious," Harry sighed.  "And Hagrid?"

Severus shook his head.  "Nothing new there.  Lupin will no doubt be able to tell us more when he awakes."

"Could I stop by to see Remus today, even if he's not awake?  I know it's idiotic, but I really need to see him," Harry explained.

"We're going to Hogwarts today anyway.  I must stop by to see my Slytherins, and you have an apology to make to the Headmaster."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face.  This was it…the behavior lecture.

"I don't know what came over me yesterday."

"Harry, I thought you'd finally accepted that Lucius' visions were nothing more than just that?" Severus began.

"I know it.  Really.  I just reacted badly when I thought that Remus…   And you….   Listen, you can't say it's not true.  It's Dumbledore who directs everyone."

"From that to calling him Voldemort, Harry…"

"I know, I know," he sighed.  "I was hysterical, I think."

"At least you didn't find it necessary to destroy my laboratory like the Headmaster's office."

"I…no," he said pitifully.

"That time, Black had just died and your reaction seemed understandable, in light of the drama you'd just suffered through.  I know you've just gone through some more than trying times, Harry, but you must truly realize that this type of behavior has no place in our circumstances.  We're at war, and the world is dangerous.  It serves no purpose to condemn Dumbledore.  I'm not always in agreement with his choices either, but he does his best, that at least is certain."

"All the same," the boy murmured, "I'd prefer if he sent people I don't know to the front."

Severus came nearer and put a hand on Harry's chin to make him look up.  "I'd also prefer for you not to have to face Voldemort.  But certain things are inevitable.  All that we can do is to prepare, the best that we can, and that's what the Headmaster is doing."

Harry nodded.  "I'll apologize.  I'm not sure I'll mean it, but I'll apologize."

Snape sighed. "That's a start.  But I've never seen you so…emotional, Harry.  Is it recent events that have made you this way?"

"I don’t' know," the boy said nervously.  "There're too many things going on, and I don't know what to think anymore.  It's rather recent for me that you're the nice person in the story, and Dumbledore the bad one, you know."

"Things are not black and white.  Albus is still the same person you've known and respected.  Comparing him to Voldemort was a rather awful thing to say."

Harry shuddered.  "That was unfair of me.  I was just so afraid of…losing what I have.  What I have left.  I'm not even sure I know what I have to lose, really, but…"

A whoosh of green flames rose up in the fireplace, making Harry startle.  An instant afterward, Dumbledore's head appeared, a smile on his face.

"Severus, Harry, the very ones I wanted to see!"

"Most likely, yes," Snape said dryly.  "If that weren't the case, you chose the wrong fireplace."

"Ah, very true, evidently.  Remus Lupin regained consciousness in the infirmary a few minutes ago.  I thought you'd like to know.  He's asking for Harry, of course," the professor said with a kind look for the boy.

Harry immediately rushed for the fireplace.

"Wait."

Severus' voice from behind seemed to unsettle him.  Harry turned, his eyes pleading.

"We'll go," the professor said soothingly, "but I'd prefer that you transform, at least until we've arrived."

Harry made a face. "Give me a sign when I should transform back, all right?  I want to talk to Remus, if possible."

Severus nodded, and a second later a black cat jumped to his shoulder, obviously content.

"It's becoming a habit, isn't it?" Snape asked as he looked at the cat, his eyebrow raised.

The animal blinked. 

"I suppose I should get used to it.  Hogwarts infirmary!" he announced, throwing a handful of Floo powder.

The infirmary was deserted, other than a bed surrounded by white curtains.  Led by the Headmaster, they slipped soundlessly behind the partition.

It appeared that Madam Pomfrey'd had quite a bit to do for her patient: Remus' face and every visible part of his body were covered with bandages, leaving a glimpse of a pair of hazy eyes and a slight smile when Snape made his entrance, the cat on his shoulder.

"Harry, I presume?" the werewolf said weakly.

"No, Lupin, I always walk about with a black cat on my shoulder," the Potions master grumbled.  A quick glance at Dumbledore confirmed that all was well, so he nudged the cat downward with a slight move of his shoulder.

Understanding the signal, Harry took his human form again, and hurried to Remus' bed, a smile on his face.

"Wasn't that great, Remus?  Did you see?"

His former professor smiled a bit more.  "You seem very gifted, Harry.  But I confess I've not understood very well how you came about this new ability?  It's a terribly long process…"

The boy quickly sought out Snape's eyes.  What he read there confirmed his doubts: pointless to overload Remus with too much emotion just now.

"It's a long story," Harry simply said.  "I'm sorry, I've not even asked how you are.  You look awful," he confessed, his smile fading away.

"It's a good thing if you can see how I am underneath all of Poppy's dressings," Remus joked. "I'll be fine, Harry.  I've been better, but I'll soon be on my feet, Madam Pomfrey assures me."

"But what put you in such a state?  It was…the other werewolves, wasn't it?"

"More or less," Remus sighed.  "There was a slight misunderstanding when we got to Hagrid's hut.  What you must absolutely understand, Harry, is that you're not safe at Hogwarts, at least not as much as you should be. I want you to be on your guard constantly, never without your wand, and never go anywhere without at least one person with you."

"So it's true, then, they were coming for me?" Harry asked gloomily.

Remus hesitated slightly. "They were coming to look for you, yes.  And to give a warning."

"Voldemort?" Harry asked.

Remus nodded.  "I'm sorry, Harry.  From what I've heard, you did good work against him.  I was a bit cut off from the news out there; they didn't trust me, but I believed he was for the moment incapable of harming anyone…on his own."

"So he sent someone in his place," the boy finished.

"A demonstration of strength on the first day of term, to bring you back if possible.  I'm sorry, Professor," he said, addressing himself to Dumbledore.  "I wasn't able to warn you ahead of time.  I was being closely watched."

"I suspected as much, my boy.  We would've liked to have contacted you earlier this summer, but it proved impossible to locate you.  Harry's had a rather difficult summer, and your help would've been welcome."

Remus turned his worried eyes toward the boy.  "Harry?"

"Oh, everything's fine now.  And Professor Snape was there."  Remus' skeptical expression made Harry smile.  "I'll have plenty of things to tell you when you're better, but really, don't worry about me."

Remus looked up to Snape, before closing his eyes for a moment.  "I'm anxious to hear it, Harry.  But I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey's potions won't last much longer.  I hope to see you again soon; you'll be in the castle anyway."

"Oh well, actually, not really.  I've not returned to classes yet.  I’m staying at Snape Manor right now."

"At…?  Harry?" Remus was clearly fighting sleep, trying to seek an explanation for what he'd just heard.

"Oh, for god's sake," Severus grumbled, pulling a potion from his robes and handing it to Remus.

"Drink."

Without a word, the werewolf obeyed and seemed to regain his color.

"Thanks, Severus," he said softly. 

An impatient sigh was his answer.

"Professor Lupin," Dumbledore finally intervened, "Severus found you unconscious in front of Hagrid's hut.  He seems to have disappeared.  Have you any idea of what could've happened to him?"

"Yes, Hagrid was kidnapped.  It wasn't planned, at least to my knowledge.  When we arrived on the spot, he tried to stop the wolves before they got into Hogwarts.  They attacked him, of course.  I tried to object, but they turned against me.  I saw someone use a Portkey with Hagrid, but I don't know who it was, although I have a vague idea."  Turning toward Snape, he added, "Thanks, Severus.  I didn't know to whom I owed my rapid rescue.  According to Poppy, my condition was critical."

The Potions master shrugged.  "And who was responsible for this attack?  The wolves and werewolves together, that was a novelty. I doubt Voldemort was in any shape to organize this charming surprise."

Remus' eyes clouded over. "Fenrir Greyback was among the leaders.  Professor Dumbledore, might I speak to you privately?"

"Of course, my boy," the Headmaster replied. "But don't be uneasy about speaking in front of Severus.  His spying days are over, and he no longer runs the risk of having confidential information squeezed out of him."

Once again, Remus looked up at Snape, troubled.  "Congratulations, Severus.  That's a relief."  Then after hesitating, he continued, "Very well.  Voldemort found himself a new right hand man, a bit before his setback with Harry.  Someone in charge of coordinating attacks and…using his talents to conceive new tactics."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Is this someone known?"

Remus' face twisted into a grimace.  "Loki."

Intrigued, Harry glanced quickly at the two professors present.  Only a glimmer of curiosity sparked in Snape's eyes as he stared thoughtfully at Remus, but Dumbledore seemed to have paled considerably, his shoulders stiffening all of a sudden.

"Remus, my boy…"  Then, pulling himself together, he said, "Severus, I believe that Professor Slughorn wishes to meet with you about the Slytherins.  He should be in his classroom at this hour, I assume."

The hint was undisguised, but Snape didn't dwell on it.  "Indeed.  Harry, if you'd transform again, it's time to go."

"Remus…" the boy said, trying to understand what had just happened right before his eyes.  "I'll be back," he said at last.  "I've so many things to tell you, really, as soon as you're better."

"I'm looking forward to hearing it," the werewolf replied with a smile.  "Take care of yourself, Harry.  Come back soon."

With one last smile, the teenager reluctantly transformed and jumped to the Potions master's shoulder.  He'd definitely missed something in that last exchange, but he sensed that his presence had hindered it.  Snape's as well, it would seem, who said goodbye to the two men with a nod, before heading for the infirmary door.

"We're going down to the dungeons," he murmured. "Stay calm, and don't transform back for any reason."

The cat dug its claws a bit deeper into the wizard's thick robes.  He wasn't stupid enough to parade about in the Slytherin dungeons, looking like his actual self!  And first off, who was this professor whom Dumbledore had mentioned?  Probably the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he thought.  He was curious to see what he might look like.

The trip to the dungeons seemed long and tedious, but they didn't come across any students in the corridors.  At this hour, they were all most likely in class, Harry thought with a twinge in his chest.  Ron and Hermione were probably somewhere close by with the other Gryffindors.

But as they went further down into the dungeons, he couldn't help but recognize the path they were taking: the one to the Potions classroom.  What was this Slughorn doing in that dreaded room?

He held on tighter to the professor's black robes as they passed through the door and entered the Potions classroom.  In front of them stood a pudgy little bald man, who came to greet them jovially.

"Severus!  What a wonderful surprise!  I wanted to meet with you about our Slytherins!  But please, sit down, you're at home here, after all," he said with a little laugh.

"Yes, it would seem so," Snape said icily.

"You know I hesitated greatly over taking this position in the interim.  It's a bit annoying, isn't it, after having been offered the full-time position?  But I understand that the circumstances…  Oh, but would this be our young friend on your shoulder?"

Given the professor's tenseness, Shadow understood that this was neither the time nor the place to confirm the little, eager-eyed man's suspicions.

"Perhaps," Snape replied carefully. "Might I deduce from this that you've definitely refused the Defense position?"

"Oh, I don't possess your courage," Slughorn answered.  "I intend a long and happy retirement, which will take up again as soon as you've resumed your duties as Potions professor and Head of Slytherin.  On that matter, I regret to inform you that our House is experiencing a bit of trouble, given the events of yesterday.  It would no doubt be good for you to put in an appearance to confirm that you're still alive."

"Probably wise," Snape admitted.  "Although I doubt the news of my death would be the cause for profound mourning amongst the students."

"It's rather serious, Severus," the little man continued. "I suspect they're plotting against you, waiting for your return.  Your…defection wasn't well-received by the Death Eaters' children."

"What a surprise," Snape said sarcastically. "Ah well, they'll have to deal with it.  And they'll also have to learn what's off limits, with myself as well as my cat. Starting immediately.  The class hour will soon be over; summon the troops to the common room, would you?"

"Certainly," Slughorn said as he waved his wand.  Then, as one, the two wizards headed for the Slytherin common room.

It hadn't changed much since his last visit, Harry noted, but as it filled with hostile-faced students dressed in green, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.  Did Snape know for sure what he was doing?  One false move, and they were both going to find themselves haunting Hogwarts to the end of their days!  Familiar gray eyes made him jump: Draco.  So he was still there, and seeing the murderous expression he wore, he was definitely among the students who had it in for Snape.

When the room was full to overflowing, the professor crossed his arms on his chest, wand in hand, and silence fell, all eyes fastened on them.  Perched on his shoulder, Shadow felt all of a sudden terribly vulnerable.

But when Snape finally began to speak, the wave of danger and pride he seemed to radiate quelled the cat's fears momentarily.

"I see you're all present.  It would appear, according to what Madam Pomfrey's told me, that not one of you was wounded during the course of last evening's attack. I cannot say that surprises me, but I'm nevertheless relieved.  You will certainly be happy to learn that Harry Potter came out of that invasion equally unscathed."

Murmuring could be heard throughout the room.  Shadow sensed more than felt the wizard begin to smile slightly.

"I don't doubt that you're delighted by this news.  In truth, that's for the best.  Among the little details that will change this year, when I return as Head of this House, you will want to take note that I demand—and mark well this word—I demand respect and protection for Mr. Potter from each one of you."

A collective gasp of surprise met his declaration.

"We are engaged in a war," he continued. "The time for pranking and House rivalries is over.  Let one of you simply claim to want to pose a threat to Harry Potter, and it will be my pleasure to have you expelled from this school before the day is out.  Those for whom these rules are not agreeable are free to leave the castle immediately."

A long silence stretched out after his words.

"On another matter…let it be clear that whatever your ambitions or feelings concerning myself, the slightest lack of respect or the least attempt to harm this cat will be severely punished.  And by that I do not mean any punishment written in Hogwarts' rules.  You'll have to deal with me and me alone.  Have I made myself clear?"

The professor's drawling and menacing tone seemed to strike straight at the hearts of his students, who kept their mouths shut.

"I'll very shortly be resuming my duties," he went on. "As professor as well as Head of House.  I'll continue to guide you, to protect you, to defend you if need be.  None of that has changed.  You'll find me available, as I've always been, and as much as your wish is to learn and progress, you will have all of my aid.  And whatever pressures you might encounter…"  His eyes swept over the crowd of students, stopping for an instant on Draco's pale face.  "Know that only your motivations interest me.  Know that there's always a way out.  Always."

With this last sentence, which left more than one student perplexed, Snape took his leave, as dignified as ever, his robes swirling dangerously about his boots as Slughorn trotted along to keep up with him.

"Well, well," the little man said when they in the corridor, "that went rather well, I think.  The message was certainly delivered, in any case."

"I dare hope so," Snape said thoughtfully. "I'm grateful for your willingness to see to my students during my absence, Professor.  Do not hesitate to contact me in case there is a problem."

"When do you plan to return, Severus?"

"Soon.  Soon.  If you'll excuse me, Professor, I must meet with the Headmaster before I leave.  Watch the Slytherins closely, and don't hesitate to make use of my personal stock of ingredients, if necessary.  The key for the cupboard at the back is under the first drawer of my desk."

"Ah, I confess I'd thought to ask you for access to it.  Thank you, Severus, and…take good care of our young hero," Slughorn said with a wink for the cat.

"I'll be certain to do so."

Turning on heel, the Potions master strode purposefully towards the Headmaster's office, the cat clinging firmly to his shoulder.

"Croquette!" he enunciated to the gargoyle at the opening to the stairway.  Shadow almost choked; he definitely missed laughing in his cat form.

The sight of the Headmaster's office, though, was enough to quash his desire to laugh.  The last time he'd come here…   But he'd not really come here, of course.  An illusion, an act…   Snape must've felt that something was wrong, for a hand came up to lightly rest against his fur.  The cat turned to meet the wizard's eyes.  He blinked: yes, everything would be fine.  He had to believe it.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching, but instead of the Headmaster, it was the familiar silhouette of McGonagall entering the office.

"Severus, how did your meeting with the Slytherins go?" she asked politely.

"As well as possible," Snape replied laconically.

"Tense, I assume," the witch said sympathetically. "It will pass, I'm certain, but it will take some time, and some…  A cat?"

Her eyes began to twinkle with a new light.

Holding back a grumble, Snape moved his shoulder to signal to Shadow that he could transform back again.  But instead of jumping to the floor, the cat only flattened itself a bit more on its perch, its heart about to beat out of its chest.

McGonagall.  Here, again.  He knew…but the knowledge was in vain.  Everything was so similar, and so…

"This cat needs some peace and quiet," Snape intervened.  "Is Albus available, Minerva?"

"I'm afraid not.  He shut himself in his rooms when he came back from the infirmary, and instructed me to tell you that he'll be in touch with you later in the day."

"I see.  In that case, I'll make use of the office Floo to return home, if that's not inconvenient."

"Wait, Severus!" the Head of Gryffindor said as the professor went for the grate. "Is this really Harry?  Would it be possible to..?"

"I'm sorry, Minerva, we must go.  I'm sure you'll have an opportunity to see Harry very soon.  Good day, and tell Albus to be sure to contact me posthaste."

"Of course," the witch said regretfully.  "Take care of yourself, Severus.  And…"

"Of Potter, I know.  Goodbye, Minerva."

And in a flash of green flames, he disappeared from the office, the cat on his shoulder.

They'd scarcely set foot in the laboratory at Snape Manor when Shadow jumped to the floor, soon replaced by a restless teenager who fell gracelessly into his armchair.

"Harry," Snape began, "to what do we owe that bout of panic?"

"I'm sorry," he said mechanically. "It was…too much."

"Hmmm," the professor said thoughtfully. "Indeed, perhaps we pushed things a bit too far.  Did seeing Professor McGonagall bring back bad memories?"

"Not really memories.  You know.  But it was…the same place, the same person.  I panicked."

"Understandable," Snape sighed.  He took a phial from the table and held it out to the boy.  "Drink.  This will help you."

Harry obeyed without a protest.  "What's that for?" he asked.

"You have a fever," Snape simply noted.

"Oh." Harry took a deep breath. "It was…awful, I think.  Do you think Remus will recover?"

"Without a doubt.  He seemed in rather good form to me, for someone who was attacked only last night by a pack of wolves."

"Do you know this Loki they were talking about?" Harry asked.

Snape looked at him hesitantly for a second before he answered, "No, but I hope Albus will tell me more this evening."

"There was something off," Harry went on.  "Dumbledore looked strange when Remus mentioned Loki, and he didn't seem to want to take about it in front of you."

Snape's face clouded over slightly. "Indeed.  Which means that you probably aren't supposed to investigate any further either."

"Hmmm," Harry said, running the pictures through his head. "It's odd how I'm more in tune to movements and expressions when I'm in my other form.  By the way, who was that professor?  Stuborn or something?"

"Slughorn," Snape corrected.  "Horace Slughorn.  Former Potions professor and Head of Slytherin.  I took up his position when he retired.  He's replacing me during my absence."

"But he was talking about a year-long position that he didn't get?  As Potions professor?"

Harry saw Snape tense suddenly.  Clearly, he'd touched a sensitive spot.

"Slughorn was actually supposed to take the Potions position this year, but Dumbledore withdrew his offer when it turned out I'd definitely be continuing on."

Harry's mouth dropped open.  "I don't understand.  You were planning to resign?"

"Solely from that position, and only for a year," the professor said, refusing to meet his eyes.

"But what were you planning to do instead?"

"Well, Mr. Potter, do you think my only talent in life is the mastery of potions? Once again, your confidence flatters me," Snape sneered.

"Stop that!" Harry cried, jumping up from his chair.

"Once again, you're giving in to your deplorable tendency for emotion and anger, Potter."

"You know very well what I'm talking about, and don't call me that.  So, answer me—what were you supposed to do besides teaching Potions?"

"I don't like your tone, Harry, and I don't recall having agreed that I have to answer to you, concerning my professional affairs."

"All right," the boy sighed. "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have got worked up.  But will you answer me, please?"

Snape seemed to hesitate for a moment, before finally giving in.  "I was supposed to fill the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

"Supposed to?  Why not anymore?  You've always wanted that position."

Harry saw Snape tense his jaw, his eyes still avoiding Harry's.

"My…abilities are now no longer up to the demands of the position.  I had to withdraw, but Slughorn didn't want to make a switch; he preferred to give up teaching."

"Your abilities," Harry murmured.  "You mean your powers?"

Once again, he saw Snape's jaw clench.  "Yes, I mean my powers."

"Merlin," the boy said as he realized.  "It's because of me; you couldn't take the position because of what you did for me."

"And here's exactly what I wanted to avoid," the professor groaned.  "Harry, when will you stop wanting to take responsibility for all the wrongs in the world?  Not that my incapacity is a good thing, in all honesty, but it's at most a slight inconvenience—temporary, what's more.  Nothing will prevent me from applying again next year, if I so desire."

But the boy was staring at him, his eyes so filled with guilt that the professor sighed with exasperation at the sight of them. "Harry, it's of no importance at all."

"It is," the boy murmured. "But in a sense…I'm happy you can't do it.  You were forgetting about the curse on that position."

"I'm not forgetting it," Snape replied. "Albus and I were in agreement that I'd resume my position as Potions master at the start of the next year."

"And you were still ready to take the risk.  To get yourself killed," the boy answered obstinately.

"It seems to me that we've already had this conversation," Severus sighed.

"But you never stop.  You said that about me one day—that I jump headfirst into every single problem.  But you're doing exactly the same thing!  How can I depend on you when you're putting yourself in danger all the time?"

"It's a question of how you see things.  I could be killed this evening by a broken tree limb, just as I could live long enough to replace Albus and his damnable white beard.  Harry, I cannot, and I have no intention, of living shut away in the dungeons so as to avoid all danger, even if the idea is tempting.  You saw the Slytherins' reaction a while ago.  Living at Hogwarts is itself a test of constant vigilance, for you as well as for myself.  But I'm taking the risk, Harry, and it costs me more to let you go there than to return there myself.  It's simply a question of priorities, I suppose.  To allow those you hold dear to live their lives…in the same way that giving up that position was a worthwhile price to pay for what the loss of my powers gave me in return."

If Harry'd thought he'd been surprised before, this last declaration left him literally speechless.  To allow those you hold dear to live their lives.  Had Snape just said that?  In front of him?  Speaking…of him?  He probably shouldn't have been so stunned, after what they'd lived through recently, but…

"You really meant what you said last evening, didn't you?" he suddenly asked.

"I always mean what I say, Potter," Snape said quietly.

"Don't call me…  The Slytherins, earlier.  They knew who I was?"

"Without a doubt.  And yes, I made a point of being seen with Harry Potter, in the Slytherin common room, in front of my entire House."

"And you threatened to expel them if they attacked me," Harry added.

"I doubt that sort of grandiose declaration will stop someone who is truly motivated, but let's hope it will give pause for thought to those who think they have something to prove."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter," Snape answered with a slight smile.

Harry smiled weakly. "It's not even noon yet, and I'm dead on my feet.  I really have to start exercising again before the start of Quidditch."

"It's not physical fatigue," Snape pointed out.  "Besides, you really do have a fever, so it's senseless to push yourself today.  Eating would do you the most good, on the other hand."

"I'll take care of the meal," Harry sighed as he stood. "That'll clear my head.  Do you think…"  He shook his head.  "Would a pizza be all right?  Homemade, obviously."

"Hmmm," the professor replied, seeming unconvinced. "Without anchovies, in that case."

"Without anchovies," the boy repeated with a slight smile. "One deluxe pizza, coming up!"

He closed the door behind him, leaving the Potions master shaking his head, disconcerted.  This was what he got for taking charge of a teenager raised by Muggles; he only had himself to blame.  But it this could make Harry happy, then he supposed a pizza would do.

He'd scarcely had time to start up his cauldrons again, when the characteristic sound of a Floo being activated made him turn around.

"Severus, is Harry with you?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes searching the room.

"He's gone up to fix something to eat. Should I call him?"

"Not at all."   The Headmaster took a step forward and entered the room.

"Has Lupin finally succeeded in making himself useful?" Snape asked dryly.

"Severus, it's more than past time to set aside your rivalries," Dumbledore reprimanded, his tone sharper than what the Potions master was accustomed to.

Snape narrowed his eyes.  "Lupin getting himself half-killed by his own kind certainly is not going to attract my sympathy.  The sentiment seemed to me to be entirely mutual, by the way."

"Severus," the Headmaster went on tiredly, "it wasn't from you that Remus wished to hide certain elements concerning his return.  Matters are more worrisome than they appear."

"This infamous Loki, I presume," Snape drawled. "Would Lupin have something to hide from his dear Harry?"

He watched the Headmaster's eyes glitter.

"I suppose that Harry's presence isn't going to do anything to calm your rivalries.  But you're right.  Remus doesn't want Harry to get wind of certain information.  Promise me that this conversation and the information I confide to you will not reach his ears."

Snape studied the old man for a long moment before nodding.  "It will remain confidential as much as possible; I can't promise you anything more.  Hiding information from the boy has only complicated matters, instead of simplifying them in the past.  I do not condone this strategy, Albus."

"Things are different this time.  It's about Loki…and Remus."

"I would've suspected as much.  I heard the Dark Lord speak this name several times, but I confess to not knowing anything more. It didn't seem very interesting to me from a strategic perspective."

"The facts have changed," the Headmaster sighed.  "And the first thing you must know, Severus, is that I actually managed to contact Remus Lupin after we'd discovered Shadow's identity, just a month ago.  I asked him to return as soon as possible to help Harry…but he refused."

A spark of interest kindled in the Potions master's eyes as he settled comfortably into one of the armchairs, a weak smile on his face.  "You have my undivided attention."

When Harry reappeared a half-hour later, markedly upset and carrying a half-charred pizza, he didn't notice the professor's distractedness right away.

"Sorry, I think it's overdone," he said with a contrite smile.

Severus lifted an ironic eyebrow, waiting for the rest of it.

"But not as much as the first three," the boy confessed at last. "I'm sorry, but until I find a way to control the strength of my spells, I'm going to have to stick to mixed salads. I've become the worst cook in England." Frustrated, he threw the pizza onto the table.

"If this one's an improvement, it's because you're beginning to master your powers. No matter how many attempts this took, practice as long as you like; but don't dwell on the failure. Later, we'll see if you feel up to a few exercises," Snape said soothingly.

Then, pointing his wand at the pizza, he murmured several incantations to make their meal look more appetizing.

"Oh," Harry said, slightly disappointed. "If I'd known that before….  Could you teach me that?"

"First, a good meal. I believe we agreed not to eat down here except in special circumstances?" Snape said sternly.

"You didn't come up, so I thought you wanted me to bring the meal down," Harry said, puzzled.

Hmmm.  Perhaps the conversation with Dumbledore had lasted longer than expected…unless he'd been lost in his thoughts after the revelations the old man had set forth. Probably the latter, yes.  Snape shook his head.

"No matter. So cut this thing, so I can objectively critique your cooking."

"You're really sure you want to taste it?" Harry grumbled. "I mean…made with Voldemort's powers, I'm not certain that's a good idea."

"Your powers aren't going to poison the food, Harry. That's ridiculous. Now, the way you use the spells might make that possible, but not the spells themselves." And to prove his point, he bit into his slice with conviction, chewing deliberately before swallowing.

"Hmmm. All right with you if I wait five minutes and see if you drop over dead before I try it?"

"That's remarkably sarcastic for you," the professor said, laying his pizza back on the plate.

"I wonder where I could've learnt that," Harry murmured.

Again, Snape only raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh all right. I suppose you know what you're doing," the boy grumbled as he attacked the pizza.

"Indeed."

But perhaps more than Harry would've thought.

The pizza actually wasn't bad, but eating with his hands wasn't one of Snape's favorite habits. Harry didn't seem to have even realized that it was possible to eat the thing with utensils, and so had neglected to bring them.

He was really becoming too indulgent with the boy, Severus thought, but he didn't want to disappoint him by making utensils appear. Harry was already upset enough by his new difficulties.

And after what he'd just learnt, the Potions master was strongly convinced that they were going to have to start training as quickly as possible to master these powers. It was impossible to send Harry back to Hogwarts under these conditions; it would be dangerous for him and the other students, especially in Potions class. Albus was in agreement with him, that they should try to keep these new abilities a secret as long as possible. With a bit of luck that'd been lacking up until now, Voldemort wouldn't have realized the magnitude of his error.

But Severus doubted it, taking into account the dark wizard's latest exploits, with Loki in the front line.

"Are you all right?"

Snape looked up, realizing he'd been staring into space for several minutes. "Eat," he ordered in the guise of an answer. "Have you taken your potions?"

"Yes, and you?" the boy retorted.

Snape shot him a dark look. "I don't think that's any of your affair."

"And me, I think it is," Harry answered back.

"Let me rephrase that: it's absolutely none of your affair," Snape said dryly.

Annoyed, Harry sighed. "You have the right to worry about me, so why not the opposite? That's not how it works. Anyway, not after what I've come to understand."

The word 'family' didn't cross his lips, but his reproachful look was enough. Snape's features relaxed noticeably. "I'm an adult, Harry, and what's more, a Potions master. I know what I have to do and I do it."

"That doesn't keep me from asking."

It was Snape's turn to sigh. "Very well. Yes, I took them. I've no intention of taking the slightest risk. Is that sufficient?"

"Thanks," the boy answered as he lowered his eyes. He played with his pizza slice for a moment, thinking desperately of how to change the subject. "Do you think I could fly a bit this afternoon?"

Snape considered him for a moment. "If you feel up to it, I don't see why not."

"I know there're more important things," Harry told him apologetically, "but I really need to unwind."

"It's an excellent way to empty your mind; I don't see anything wrong with it. Anyway, you've earned a bit of time off. Remind me to show you the game room later."

"Game room?" Harry asked with interest. "Here?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed. "Upstairs. You'll find billiards, chess, that sort of thing."

"I'd almost forgotten there was an upstairs," the boy murmured. "Do you use it sometimes?"

Snape grimaced. "No."

Sensing that the time for questions had passed, Harry turned back to his pizza. No, really, no matter how he looked at it, it didn’t inspire confidence…and cold, it was even less appetizing.

Snape caught his look and cast a series of incantations. A few instants later, a perfectly roasted chicken landed on the table, surrounded by potatoes, and giving off an irresistible smell.

Harry felt his mouth begin to water as the professor calmly carved the meat, after making two plates and assorted silverware appear.

But a second later, it was a famished black cat that leapt onto the table to seize a chicken thigh, then fled to beneath a cupboard in a flurry of fur.

Snape sat with his mouth hanging open, the knife in midair.

"Harry?"

For a second, he thought nothing would happen. Then he saw the head of a black cat peep out from its hiding place, the chicken thigh still between its teeth; the cat returned sheepishly to the table.

Letting go of the bone regretfully, the cat transformed back into a crestfallen teenager.

"Enlighten me," the professor began. "Should I consider that as a return to animal instinct, or a new example of your deplorable table manners?"

"I can't believe I did that," Harry moaned as he sat, floored.

"You're not the only one. A slight analysis is in order. What provoked this transformation, Harry?"

"I…the smell, I think. The meat. It made me hungry, and I don't know…I've never done that before!"

"Indeed, but this reaction seems similar to the one that drove you to attack Mr. Weasley yesterday, in your cat form," Snape pointed out.

"I didn't think of that ahead of time either. It just came on like that….  Do you think it's a problem? I mean, a serious one?"

Severus thought for a moment. "Lack of control is always a problem. However, I dare hope this one is only temporary."

"I'll have to do some trial runs. I have to put myself in some situations where I could be surprised and where—"

"Start by working on your transformations," Snape cut him off. "That still seems to me to be the best way of mastering your forms; we have not put enough time into that lately."

"With all that's happened, and Remus…Remus! I have to talk to him about it; he'll certainly know what to do," Harry exclaimed. It seemed as if the Potions master's face suddenly clouded over, but he didn't answer.

"Start by eating your meal. From a plate, if possible."

"Sorry about that. I'll try to, er, restrain my instincts in the future," the boy stammered.

"I see it wasn't the pizza that got you all worked up. Next time, I'll know how to get you to transform into the cat in spite of yourself."

"Yes," Harry said, "always keep a chicken on hand to face Voldemort. Good thing to know."

The two wizards studied each other, with a look of challenge that a casual observer might've taken for complicity.

Feeling his appetite return, Harry enthusiastically started in on his chicken with his fork. Still, there was something about the act of tearing the meat into pieces with little pointed fangs that made the fact of being a cat exciting. He wondered idly if Sirius had felt the same thing in his dog form…and immediately lost his appetite.

Snape saw the young man suddenly set down his fork, his expression in stark contrast to his eagerness of just a moment ago.

"The chicken's not to your taste?" he asked.

"That's not it. Just the opposite. It's just…sorry, Professor, I think I'm not all that hungry, actually. Would it bother you if I go take a turn in the park?

Snape frowned. "I insist that you at least finish your plate. I don't care about your table manners when we're here, but you need to regain your strength, and a complete meal is necessary for that. Eat."

Harry pressed his lips together, and picked at the food on his plate for a moment, trying to summon the courage to take a mouthful. Unsuccessfully. His stomach had balled up at the thought of Sirius, and didn't seem about to let anything pass through.

"Honestly, Professor, if I eat something, it's not going to stay down. I don't think that'll be very helpful."

Severus set down his fork, clearly irritated. "A few minutes ago, you were sufficiently hungry so that you transformed into the cat and stole a chicken thigh from the table. An explanation for this sudden reversal of appetite?"

Harry looked for a moment at the man he'd come to appreciate, and who was waiting for his answer, noticeably concerned. He would've liked to be able to explain it to him…but telling Severus how much Harry missed his childhood enemy? That thinking of Sirius again upset him enough to steal away his appetite, when he knew perfectly well that the two wizards had hated each other?

No, that definitely wasn't a good idea. At best, Severus would say a few awkward and hypocritical words, at worst, he'd be angry.

It was truly the last thing Harry needed just now. So, he shook his head, refusing to meet the professor's eyes. "Could I make do with a potion?"

"On an empty stomach, no." Snape thought for an instant. "Transform, Harry. Whatever it is that's bothering you, it upsets you less in your animal form. So take this damned chicken thigh and go eat it outside, like the alley cat you are."

It wasn't a bad idea. He gave the professor a wan smile before changing into the cat and grabbing the bone on the floor. The door leading to the park opened, and the cat dashed up the steps without a backwards glance.

The wind! Finally! Intoxicated by the feel of the breeze in his fur, Shadow took off at top speed though the high grass, avoiding sticks and stones, to finally jump with a single leap to the highest branch of a tree, the chicken thigh still between his fangs.

Ah, satisfaction! The view was unobstructed, the sun warm on his fur, and the chicken had never tasted so good.  And Sirius…was a faraway memory. He felt his heart constrict confusedly, but refused to dwell on the thought. He had things to do. Powers to master. People to save. And maybe even a family to work on now…

Vaguely ill at ease, Shadow looked toward the Manor. From here he could clearly see the upper storey. He'd not paid it any attention when he'd been flying the other day, but most of the shutters had been closed, obviously for a long time; ivy had grown up onto the wooden doors, with the exception, though, of two dusty windows that seemed to look out from the same room. Green curtains hid the interior, but the cat thought it could see the outlines of a wardrobe and a bed. Nothing surprising, really, but why was this room the only one whose windows were unshuttered? Did Snape use it, contrary to what he'd claimed? Or someone else? Still, Snape didn't seem to be inclined to receive guests…

Intrigued, the cat finished devouring its trophy as he watched the house. It seemed fairly austere in design, and rather majestic as well. Had Severus himself drawn up the plans? Had he bought it for its imposing and isolated features? Had he wanted to impress the other Death Eaters? The Manor didn't cease to intrigue him, but curiously, Harry dreaded asking the Potions master questions. One day…later.

Full at last, Shadow finally decided to come down from his perch. Exercise, Snape had said.  When he was at the bottom of the tree, he retook his human form and glanced around. Hmmm, the way in which he saw things was really different when he changed form, so some time to adjust was in order. But he wouldn't have the luxury of this time when he was in danger, and that was one thing he had to consider from now on.

He began to run quickly across the lawn, focused, before transforming back to the cat in mid-stride.

Good, he'd not needed to think this time. A bit more difficult, perhaps…he retook his usual form, before taking off at a run for the tree. He waited until the very last second before throwing himself at the trunk, all of his claws out, his heart racing. Yes, that worked very well. So why couldn't he simply control his changes each and every time?

It wasn't as if he'd grown up in this form. By Merlin, why did he revert to it so often?

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a movement near the Manor. Snape had apparently come out to watch him. Jumping down from his branch, Harry retook his human form to join him.

"I made a few tries. I have no trouble changing at will, but it's a bit strange, don't you think? It wasn't that easy before. I really don't know how to explain it."

Snape considered him thoughtfully for an instant. "Could you try to switch from one form to the other as quickly as possible, and continue for as long as you can? Until you no longer feel comfortable, or become tired, if possible."

Harry nodded, and threw himself into a series of rapid transformations. He'd already done this exercise once in the dungeon, and expected to quickly run out of energy…but five minutes later, it was Snape who stopped him.

"That's enough."

Harry froze in his human form, his eyes questioning. "I'm not tired; on the contrary, I've lost count along the way. It was fast enough, wasn't it?"

"Rather, yes. You were at thirty-four changes."

"Oh. A good many, I think. The last time I only did…" He stopped. "Am I really supposed to progress this quickly?"

Snape slowly shook his head. "Your level of magic has increased considerably, and your endurance along with it. It's a good thing, but I suspect your unexpected transformations are linked to this greatly enhanced flow of magic."

"Could you try to remember that I'm not Hermione, please? You're trying to tell me that Voldemort's powers also affect Shadow?" Harry asked, perturbed.

"They affect your transformations," Snape corrected. "All of your magic is affected by it, Harry, which is normal. You don't have Voldemort's powers on one side, and your own on the other."

"I'm not sure I like that," the boy confessed. "Do you think it's just a question of training?"

"Largely." Then when the boy looked worried, he added, "It's not as if anyone's ever stolen the Dark Lord's powers before you, Harry. We'll have to study the matter, and remain cautious."

"Could I start now? Training? I feel in top form."

"Didn't you want to fly a bit first?" Snape asked.

Harry made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Not now. Running in Shadow's skin is almost the same thing. How do you want me to start?"

Severus motioned with his chin for them to head for the clearing. "List for me a few spells you could use."

"Hmmm…maybe simple spells to start, like Accio or Lumos…or something a bit more offensive, like a Stupefy, but I'll need a target that moves."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Anything else?"

"For the last one, I'd like for you to wait to be surer of your abilities. Accio seems to definitely be a good place to begin."

"And an Inpedimenta?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded, obviously satisfied. Harry couldn't help but feel a burst of pride. He'd passed the first part of the test.

When they finally stopped at their usual training place, Harry felt surer of himself than he had in days. Raising his wand, he pointed at empty space, but a hand shot out immediately and rested on his own to make him lower his arm.

"Above all else," Snape began, "think about what you want to produce. Visualize the effect and the power you want to put into your spell. Feel your magic and direct it."

Severus opened his mouth to point out to the boy that a Lumos in broad daylight would hardly have an effect, but he was quickly stopped by the blinding light pulsing from the wand.

"Wow," Harry said, "I suppose that'd be more spectacular at night, but did you see that?"

Yes, he'd seen it. Even with the summer sun at its highest, the difference in intensity hadn’t been difficult to see. What now illuminated the clearing had an unnatural quality that made the grass and foliage almost transparent.

"Did you start with a moderate spell?" Snape finally asked.

"Yes. Do you want me to try again with it stronger?"

"Focus yourself first. Stay in control of your powers."

Harry knew what he meant. Doing magic had always been exciting, but this sort of electricity that ran through his body to center in his arm, which wanted to come out of him, this feeling of power… It was exhilarating, truly exhilarating.

For a second, he had to close his eyes, with his arm across his face. When he opened them again, he thought for an instant that his vision was clouded by the blinding light surrounding him. Could her really see through that tree? His eyes widened as his mouth hung open.

Behind him, Snape told him quickly, "Harry, end the spell!"

The light disappeared, and once again Harry thought his eyes were playing a trick on him. The sunlight should've been brighter, shouldn't it have? One look at Snape confirmed that something wasn't right.

"Severus?"

The professor turned his head to him. "Look toward the Manor."

Harry obeyed. Beyond the clearing, the afternoon sun seemed to still be as strong. All around them, on the other hand…

"It's almost like it's night," Harry choked out. "I only cast a Nox to extinguish my wand; I don't understand."

"Finite Incantatem," Snape simply said.

To his great relief, the light became immediately normal again, just as it'd been around the clearing. Simple sunlight. Lowering his wand, he watched Snape as he bent over to pick up something. Intrigued, Harry drew closer, but it was only a simple blade of grass that the professor was examining, as if it were some new specimen.

Whatever he was looking at so closely, there was something strange about the plant, maybe in its color, or…

"Merlin, that's not…?"

Snape turned to him and lifted the blade of grass toward the sky. It was slight, certainly, but undeniable: it'd taken on a more translucent texture, letting the sun's rays pass straight through it. Harry could almost see the magic moving inside its cells.

"It would appear that I underestimated the power of your simplest spells," Severus only said. "We're going to have to think of all possibilities. Your level of power seems to give the incantations a new dimension."

"Will it stay that way?" Harry asked, unable to look away from the blade of grass.

"No, it's already starting to return to its normal color. It's…at the least, impressive."

Harry didn't know if he should feel flattered or uncomfortable. "Do you want me to try something more…offensive?" he asked.

"That's up to you. Do you feel able?"

He nodded. That was the actual goal, after all…testing his limits. "A Stupefy shouldn't do too much damage, I suppose. Only need to know what to use it on."

A large, ferocious-looking ghost of a dog appeared from the end of his wand like a Patronus, and began to skulk in circles around them, clearing looking for something to attack.

The watchdog froze in full-stride, but didn't fall to the ground as Harry expected. It seemed…petrified, Harry thought, as he drew near to see it more closely. Snape was there ahead of him, tapping the animal with his fingertips. Its hair seemed strangely hard and…shiny.

"Frozen," Snape said laconically.

Harry reached out then, refusing to believe it. He scratched the hair, loosening some flakes of frost. The dog was well and good fixed in place by a weight of ice.

"Since when does a Stupefy freeze the target?" he asked incredulously.

"To my knowledge, this is the first," Snape answered. "Dreadfully effective, without a doubt, although potentially very dangerous on a living being. I wonder what a Petrificus—" He was interrupted by a faint ringing filling the air in the clearing.

Harry was instantly on his guard, ready to face any possible assailants, but Snape didn't seem otherwise perturbed.

"That old magpie," Snape grumbled. "I didn't expect her so soon. She couldn't resist, evidently."

"What's going on?" Harry asked sharply.

"We have guests," Snape explained. "But before we return to the Manor, I'd like you to vanish this specter."

"A…specter?" Harry asked, looking at the dog in consternation.

"In a manner of speaking. It's rather close to a Patronus, actually. We'll talk about it later. Suffice it to say that it's much more difficult—not to mention impossible—to cast effective spells on these sorts of creatures. Your performance is admirable, Harry. Now, if you would…"

The boy raised his wand, vaguely annoyed. He didn't really deserve these compliments, and he'd certainly not tried for this result. He shook his head to clear his mind.

He probably should've paid more attention to what he was doing, for the dog did disappear, as well as a large part of the forest behind him, digging a bigger hole in the clearing. He stood, open-mouthed, for a moment.

"I…I’m sorry, I was aiming for the dog…I think," he stammered.

At his side, a slightly pale Snape observed the hole without a word.

"You controlled your power?" he asked.

"Not really," Harry confessed. "I just wanted to get rid of the dog. Do you want me to try again?"

But Snape shook his head. "Not for now. But we'll come back to it. There're be a great deal of work to do for you to be able to control your powers without danger. This session, however, has been most instructive." With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Harry to head for the Manor, and the two wizards took off in silence, lost in their thoughts.'''

"Where was that noise coming from?" Harry asked at last.

"It's an alarm that warns me when a guest arrives by the Floo."

"Oh. You were waiting for someone?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Evidently," Snape replied. "But it's a visitor for you."

"Me? Honestly, Professor, I don't really want a visitor right now."

"Do this to please me; give them a cordial welcome, as much as you can," Snape said gently.

Harry turned to him, searching his eyes for a hint of duplicity or manipulation. But all he met were the black and, yes, kind eyes of the professor. It was truly a request and not an order or attempt to maneuver him.

He swallowed hard. Why was it always these little details that touched him the most?

"All right."

Automatically, he went to Snape, whose eyes sparked suddenly when he heard Harry's answer.

Severus must've read his mind, because the instant afterward, he'd casually draped an arm around the boy's shoulders, just like that day at the Weasleys. And oh, Merlin, it felt good.

Just a summer afternoon, just someone who was proud of him and who cared about him enough to make this simple gesture. It was probably what James would've done, if he'd lived, but he'd not known James, had he? And it was Severus who was here for him now, Severus whom he knew well enough to appreciate that he wasn't adept at demonstrations of affection, Severus whom he'd come to respect and admire.

Yes, it was definitely one of those glorious moments he'd have liked to be able to hoard in a bottle and relive over and over.

He was so affected by the moment that he didn't see the figure watching them from in front of the Manor at the door to the laboratory, until the very last moment. A small figure, really, but as soon as he identified it, Harry sensed Shadow within in him spit in its direction. A cat! A cat on his territory!

But Snape didn't seem surprised by the intrusion, and briefly squeezed his shoulder before letting him go. A few feet from the animal, Harry realized there was something familiar in the markings of its fur.

"We weren't expecting you so soon, Minerva," Snape said.

Harry stiffened. McGonagall? Obviously, he should've recognized the circles around the eyes, but what was the Head of Gryffindor doing here at Snape Manor?

The cat blinked at the Potions master, before shifting its golden eyes toward Harry.

Ill at ease, the boy turned to Severus. "Professor, I'm not sure I understand."

"Professor McGonagall has come here to give you some lessons on…well, on mastering your cat form, I assume? If you have questions about your transformations, Harry, she would probably be the best one to ask. Despite her definite resemblance to a shabby old rug, Professor McGonagall is nevertheless the only living, registered Animagus."

The cat in front of them let out furious growl at the Potions master, before walking haughtily toward Harry, its tail held high.

The boy couldn't help but smile. This was so McGonagall. Yes, so McGonagall. His smile disappeared. Severus knew that he didn't want to see her. But when Harry turned to him{,} the professor only graced him with a confident smile, his head slightly tilted, as he shrugged and motioned toward the cat with his chin.

Harry understood the message, and nodded. It was true; in this form, the witch was decidedly less intimidating, and Harry was truly curious to see what it would be like to face another Animagus in his cat form.

The wizard narrowed his eyes imperceptibly, so Harry took a deep breath. A second later, Shadow stood facing the other cat, his heart racing.

And now?

"Perfect. If you don't find it inconvenient, I'll leave the two of you to your feline activities and take care of my herbs. By the way, Minerva, Potter hasn't finished his flea treatment. You're forewarned."

Turning on heel, he headed for the patch of ground where, he claimed, two months out of the year, to grow a few medicinal plants. A totally futile preoccupation that didn't even fool himself, but it was out of the question that he be caught cat-sitting, especially for Potter and Minerva McGonagall.

Potter…Harry, he corrected himself. That the old harpy was there wouldn't change a thing. The boy was perhaps a Gryffindor and an Animagus, but that she'd think for a moment that she'd have the upper hand over him when they returned to Hogwarts… After all, she'd proven during Potter's five years in her House that she was completely incompetent when it came to looking after him.

And it wasn't as if the boy trusted her. He held back a slight smile. No, he shouldn't think that way. It'd been his idea for Minerva to come to the Manor in her cat form to meet Harry on his own territory.  It was not an option for the boy to allow Lucius' torturing to impact relationships with the people he cared for. And whether he liked it or not, Harry cared for McGonagall. It was rather logical, after all. Minerva had always favored and overprotected her dear Gryffindors. He shook his head.

Perhaps. But she'd let Harry slip through the cracks. He himself wouldn't make the same mistake.

He glanced discreetly over his shoulder. The two cats seemed to be getting on. He shrugged, as if to deny the slight tug at his heartstrings he felt at the sight of them. He certainly wasn't going to start being jealous of an old mangy cat who probably had more fleas than his own cat.

Truly, it would've been better if he'd sprayed McGonagall with the product instead of telling her to take care of Shadow.

This time, he allowed himself a slight smile. Yes, the there was something definitely delightful about the idea. One day, perhaps….

The first thing Harry was aware of when he took his Animagus form was that McGonagall had the same scent as a cat as she did as a witch. A slight aroma of chalk, of violet perfume, and her own cat fur. The odor was more marked to Shadow's keen sense of smell, and there was something definitely reassuring about it.

The McGonagall who'd attacked him in Dumbledore's office hadn't smelled like this. It was probably the least of his worries just then, and she was too far away anyway, but he knew it confusedly. This old cat in front of him was neither going to attack him nor steal away his territory.

The golden eyes blinked. 'Pretty markings, Harry.'

'Shadow.'

'Shadow.' The other cat nodded.

'I can understand you?'

'A little. Not as much as in your human form, but it'll be enough.'

Shadow flicked his ears, troubled. He could communicate with McGonagall, but the thoughts he was deciphering seemed vaguer and not as easy to understand as if she'd spoken. Still, it was much more than he could express to Severus while in this form.

The other cat trotted away into the grass, and Shadow quickly followed it.

'Where are you going?'

'I'm visiting,' the tabby replied.

'This is my home!' Shadow protested, feeling his instincts coming to the forefront. McGonagall turned her head to look at him with eyes sparkling with humor.

'Your territory?'

'Yes. With Severus.'

It was the female cat's turn to be disconcerted. But only for a moment. "So, show me what you know how to do."

Spurred on, Shadow took off at a gallop across the lawn, his lawn, before streaking in the flash of a second to the top of a tree, then rushing down almost as quickly. Let the old witch try that! But McGonagall waited for him at the foot of the tree, barely impressed.

'That's all? What else?'

It seemed to him that the Animagus had smiled. Swishing her tail, the tabby cat crouched down in the grass, on the lookout. Shadow followed her with his eyes, astounded, until he noticed what had captivated McGonagall's attention. With a leap, the cat pounced on a field mouse, trapped it between her teeth, and dropped it triumphantly between Shadow's paws.

The rodent fled, squeaking in terror, right from under the black cat's bemused eyes.

'Well?' McGonagall asked impatiently.

'I've never tried that…but I can catch things that fly. Severus trained me.'

The tabby batted its tail, clearly annoyed. 'Severus knows nothing about cats. Find some other prey. Smell. Listen.'

That still seemed like what Snape had told him to do. Shadow concentrated on what was around him, his ears and nose straining. There, right there, something was moving. He flattened himself in the grass, like he'd seen McGonagall do the moment before, and crept soundlessly toward his victim. One step…two…three….he leapt, his claws out, and fiercely seized his prey before releasing it again.

'A beetle, Shadow?' He sensed the laughter behind the Head of Gryffindor's thoughts.

Vexed, he casually lifted his nose. If only he were to find a bird, and then he'd show her, the old magpie!

But it was something else that attracted his attention. Above them, the clouds had started to pile up in what threatened to become a good summer storm.

'Water,' McGonagall said as he followed his eyes. 'That's not good. Best not to linger.'

Shadow flicked his tail. The electricity charging the air, little by little, was making him nervous, but he had to first prove to McGonagall that he wasn't a housecat. Just a dungeon cat. Taking a run-up, he climbed into the tree without a sound. Slipping from branch to branch, hidden by the leaves and his black fur, he finally found what he was looking for…this little sparrow was either too old or too young, as it hadn't heard him coming. Oh well, too bad for him. With a single leap, he jumped at the bird, which flew off at the last moment, leaving Shadow to land, his paws empty, on the farthest fragile end of the branch, making it fold under his weight.

Off-balance, the cat found itself with its back end hanging in the empty air, attached to the swaying branch by only the strength of its claws. He glanced desperately toward the place where Snape was: the wizard had started to run immediately, ending his pretense of not paying attention to their little games.

Shadow saw him lift his wand and murmur a spell, then felt his behind raise gently until he regained his balance on the branch, his heart racing. It was just… How had he not realized that he'd gone so high? If he'd fallen… Merlin, how was he supposed to get down from here? If only he had his Firebolt. Paralyzed, he shot a pleading look at the Potions master.

The wizard let out a half-smile as he lifted his wand again and lowered the cat to the lawn, while McGonagall looked on disapprovingly.

'You could've got down very well on your own,' she protested.

'I thought I was going to fall,' Shadow admitted pitifully.

'You got down very well before. But you must pay more attention to where you land. That branch was too weak, even for a small cat like yourself. Start again.'

Shadow thought he felt the first drops of rain, but kept himself from protesting. He wasn't going to show himself the timid little cat in all of this! While Snape walked into the distance again, Shadow took a running start, and climbed the tree, not quite so high this time. His cat pride somewhat wounded, he set off on the quest of another bird to catch. It still wasn't nearly as complicated as catching a Snitch. What was she thinking—that old alley cat—that he'd been born yesterday?

It wasn't a drop that the cat felt now, but the beginning of a shower. Creeping farther out on the branch, he glanced at the sky that was now black.

He was thinking confusedly that staying up in a tree probably wasn't the best idea during a storm, when a muffled cry from further away attracted his attention: Severus, who'd stepped away again, was standing bent-over in the rain, desperately gripping his left forearm. His face was hidden by his hair, but Shadow guessed that he was doubled over in pain. And in fact, an instant later, the Potions master lifted his head in the rain, letting out another cry before falling to his knees. A cry of rage this time, the cat realized…and helplessness.

Without losing a moment, he jumped to the foot of the tree and ran with all his might toward Severus, flanked by McGonagall.

When they finally reached the wizard's side, he'd stood up, but his hand clenched his arm and his twisted features spoke volumes.

McGonagall transformed immediately. "Severus, what's happening?"

It was Harry's turn to take his human form again. "It's Voldemort, isn't it?"

"No, Potter," groaned the Potions master, "it's the Ministry inviting me to tea. Obviously it's Voldemort!"

Harry saw McGonagall startle on hearing the ex-Death Eater say this name. She took a step toward him, then placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Severus, let us help you go in."

But before he could answer, another streak of pain made him fall to his knees again with a groan.

It was almost like night now, under the cover of the clouds, and the sudden darkness made Harry anxious. Without thinking, he roughly pushed his Head of House away from Severus. McGonagall, Bellatrix…and that same pain that was now steadily throbbing in his scar. It was too much for him. Reflexively, he raised his wand at the witch watching him, her eyes wide.

"Harry!"

"Get away from him! Now!"

"Mr. Potter, stop this childishness immediately; we must take Professor Snape inside, an attack could be—"

"GET AWAY! I won't let you.  Leave! Right now!" Harry shouted.

"This is completely ridiculous! Harry, look at me, get hold of yourself; I've no intention of harming Severus or yourself. I simply want to help you."

But when she made a move to go to the wizard on the ground, the boy resolutely brandished his wand, and hissed like a cat…or a snake, thought the Head of Gryffindor.

He didn't speak an incantation, and yet it was indeed a spell that struck Minerva McGonagall full in the chest and propelled her into the distance with an unexpected strength. In spite of her surprise, the witch managed to transform in mid-flight, and land, uninjured, on four paws just a dozen meters farther away, before fleeing swiftly into a bush.

What spell could the boy have cast? She could feel a burning and a sharp, shooting pain in her chest, as if she'd been hit by something heavy that was shaking her entire body. Merlin, he'd not even spoken the incantation aloud, outside of that hissing…unless…  Did Harry know how to cast spells in Parseltongue?

She discreetly drew nearer, so the boy didn't notice her, but she was clearly the last thing on his mind. Snape, now doubled over with pain that'd clearly escalated, didn't seem aware of his surroundings. All his strength focused on not crying out, his face sallow and his eyes closed, he didn't realize the state Harry was in—watching him helplessly, panic-stricken and becoming more agitated from second to second.

Frantically looking around him, his wand raised, the boy tried to pinpoint the source of the attack. But the wall of rain and the half-light made it impossible, and clenching his teeth, he began to hiss an incantation.

Minerva felt her fur stand on end. It was indeed in Parseltongue that Harry was expressing himself. Was he even aware of it?  Merlin, what was he trying to do? Whatever it was, he'd clearly not obtained the desired result, because he was now staring at his wand, in a daze, not understanding why it hadn't obeyed him.

But a choked cry pulled him from his stupor. At his feet, the ex-Death Eater, still fiercely gripping his Mark, had rested a hand on the ground so as not to collapse, his shoulders shaking.

McGonagall felt her heart pound harder. Severus had already been suffering when she and Harry'd reached him, but he'd been lucid enough to talk to them; his pain seemed to increase, the more Harry……  An idea abruptly occurred to the cat.

Harry!

The Head of Gryffindor immediately retook her human form, without trying to hide herself any longer, while the boy spoke another incantation in Parseltongue. Around him, the air seemed to crackle, like a powerful, malevolent magical aura…

"Harry, no! You're only making things worse!"

The boy looked at her wildly, but to her great relief, without aggression. He seemed completely lost and without any idea of what to do in face of the situation, to the point of forgetting his resentment. "I…I don't understand, my spells aren't working. Help me, Professor. Please!"

Minerva opened her mouth to reply when a sudden peal of thunder rang out, making the air around them vibrate. Was it possible that the light had dimmed even more? And why did she have this abrupt impression that they were in a very, very precarious position? It was much too cold for a summer's day. And there was nothing natural about the cold chilling their skin, no more than the dark shadows floating above the park.

McGonagall felt the vaguely familiar sensation of despair fill her, and one glance at Harry was enough for her to know that he'd understood as well.

"Dementors," he breathed out.

"Severus," McGonagall said. "We must return to the Manor, inside the walls. Let me help you."

With a surge of will that surprised the witch, Snape did his best to nod at her through his confusion, his jaw still clenched almost to the point of breaking. He tried awkwardly to stand again, before falling back to the ground, overcome.

Becoming more and more nervous, Minerva seized her colleague by the arm, before looking up to ask Harry to help her.

But she stood stock still, mouth open, at the sight of the boy, his face, marble-like, turned toward the sky. His eyes vacant, lips half-open, he seemed to be listening attentively to something and…was it only the wind, or was Harry really making a hissing sound?

"Harry!" McGonagall cried out, desperate to attract his attention, but the boy didn't even startle at the sound of his name.

For a brief moment, Minerva wondered what Dumbledore would've done in this situation, but an instant afterward, it was the man she'd long considered a traitor and coward who took the situation in hand.

Gathering his strength, Snape had lifted his head and sought out Harry's eyes. "Shadow!" he called hoarsely.

This time, the boy jumped and turned to look in confusion toward the Potions master.

"Look at…me."

Harry took a hesitant step toward him to peer into Severus' black, glittering eyes.

"I can't do it, Severus," the boy moaned. "I've already tried three times; it doesn't work and there're more and more of them. I…I can feel them, but not like before. It's like they're waiting for something from me. Like I called them instead of making them go away!" he confessed at last.

Severus was silent for a moment, his breathing ragged. Then, with a quick gesture, he grabbed his wand and held it out to Harry. "Try again. Think…positive. You can do it, Harry. I've got confidence in you."

Ignoring Minerva's gasp of surprise, Harry seized the wand. It was the same black wand he'd used that day in the dungeon, trying to push back the Dementors. Severus' wand, which had sacrificed its owner so that Harry'd not be hurt. And now, it was his turn to protect his professor. No, not his professor, he corrected. He wouldn't allow the different word to form in his head, but the thought was nonetheless there.

Lifting the black wand high, he summoned all the magic coursing through his veins like an electrical charge, and directed it through his hand. Severus, he had to think of Severus, and the Manor, even Shadow.

For a fraction of a second, he thought he'd once again cast a Lumos in spite of himself. He had to lift his arm to protect his eyes from the blinding light. But when he opened them again, it was to the sight of a huge white stage, head held high, galloping full-out for the park, in the middle of what seemed to be a thick and shining mist.

It enveloped the three of them in a protective cloud, and the feeling of despair and freezing cold immediately drained away, leaving them relieved as well as stunned. The stag cantered in large circles around them, indefatigable, and even though the rain continued to fall, the shadows began to disperse, little by little, leaving only black clouds that made the sky the color of lead.

On the ground, Snape seemed to have regained his bearings and was trying to stand, his hand still clenched on his arm. Minerva went immediately to help him, but he pushed her away in irritation.

"Let's go in," he said, motioning with his head toward the Manor.

Then, catching Harry's worried eyes, he managed a faint smile. "I'll take my wand back. That was very well done, Harry."

The boy smiled at him as he handed him the wand. "Thanks." He hesitated for an instant, dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue. But the drawn features and the hand still gripping the Mark dissuaded him from asking them now. They first had to get back to the Manor. With a few potions in him, Severus would most likely feel better.

They made their way in silence, slowly, with difficulty, Snape clearly having trouble recovering his strength. When they were at last in the shelter of the dungeons, Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief.

 Minerva watched incredulously as the boy rushed to the wooden table, where he chose two potions that he immediately took to Severus. The professor swallowed them down without being asked, then fell into an armchair with all the dignity the situation and his strength allowed him.

"Severus, how are you?"

The Potions master gritted his teeth, holding back the sarcastic reply burning his lips. Did he look like he was basking in happiness? Merlin, he had to be covered in mud; did Minerva have to be there on the exact day this had to happen?

"Better. The attack's intensity is lessening," he finally said.

"Is there something I can do?" Minerva urged.

"No. You can go back. Your session should be reported anyway; the storm doesn't seem about to stop."

"Severus, I can't leave you in such a state," the witch protested. "Let me call Poppy or Albus, there's surely something to be done."

"That never seemed to have bothered you before," the Potions master lashed out. Then, he went on, "It's not necessary, Minerva. Voldemort doesn't have the strength to sustain this sort of attack for very long; it's almost no longer painful. Neither Pomfrey nor Dumbledore could do anything for it."

"You don't think he could attack the Manor?" Harry asked nervously.

"No, no need to worry. There was no one here, outside of the Dementors; the alarms would've alerted me if it were otherwise."

"Severus, I'm not certain, but I really had the impression that the Dementors came because I called them. I didn't really call them," he added quickly, "it's when I wanted to cast a Patronus, just in case, that I felt them answer…I don't understand!"

Snape sat up to look the boy in the eyes. "How, exactly?"

"It's hard to explain," Harry said, trying to order his thoughts. "Like an echo. A presence, but not a person, something more…vague?"

"A collective consciousness?" Snape suggested, still rubbing his forearm.

"Something like that. There were no words, at least I don't think so…maybe yes, after all. Something like, 'We're coming,' but more like a question, as if I had to tell them something. I don't know, I'm not even sure it really happened. I don't understand why my Patronus didn't work with my own wand," he finished with a lump in his throat.

"Harry," McGongagall said gently, "you didn't say a spell aloud when you did it, in the beginning. At least not in English. You said the incantation, but in Parseltongue."

Harry started, and the Potions master narrowed his eyes. "That was you?"

"I…" Harry swallowed. "I didn't realize that. Did I really do that? That's the first time…what does that mean?"

"You'd panicked, and Voldemort had activated my Mark. Did you feel a connection at the same time as I did?" Snape asked.

"My scar burned a bit, but it was really very slight. But my powers…I don't understand why nothing happened, when I've felt like I've been mastering them so well. Do you think I attracted the Dementors by wanting to send them away?"

"It's not impossible. I heard Parseltone being spoken, but I thought it was a repercussion of the attack. That explains it." Rubbing his forearm one last time, he finally released it, before looking disgustedly at the now black scar etched into his flesh.

"Did that really make things worse?" Harry asked, his eyes also fixed on the Mark.

Snape hesitated for a half-second. "It's difficult to say."

"Harry might've acted as a catalyst," McGonagall proposed thoughtfully. Her suggestion earned her a murderous look from Severus.