It wasn’t—quite—a full Order meeting, Severus discovered as he reached the Black estate, but it wasn’t far from it. The mutt and the werewolf were even in attendance, despite the fact that they’d been dispatched to the Continent to make contact with several disparate groups at about the same time the term began. The rest of the Order had seen it as a good way to keep them safely away from England while still doing useful work; personally Severus had supported the idea simply because it kept the two of them far, far away from him. Albus, on the other hand, seemed to be absent. Unusual but not unheard of, although without him to distract some of the more impetuous members…. Perhaps I should have made up some more of the headache potion. It seems rather much for a kidnapping attempt, especially bringing that mutt in.

“Snape,” Alastor greeted. “What do you make of this?”

And Minerva complains of my manners. He took the item that had been thrust in his direction cautiously. ‘This’ was a rather innocuous looking clear stone with some kind of dark center. A dark liquid center, he realized upon closer examination, and the casing was more crystalline than stone. “It doesn’t look like anything I’m familiar with.” An offensive weapon, perhaps? An inefficient means of transporting an explosive—the crystal would dampen the effect. But a hallucinogen? Or poison, perhaps—some crystals will dissolve in a liquid. He frowned as he picked it up. It wasn’t precisely heavy, but it was far too large to be easily slipped into someone’s teacup. Arthur Weasley came in behind him—Molly was already seated—and he passed the item on. “Where did you find it?”

“Found it in the remains of a house in Altimera, Spain,” the werewolf answered. “One of the Deatheaters abroad we’ve been keeping an eye on. Not…not much else was intact.”

“Who? Has be been confirmed dead or was just his property destroyed?”

“Why do you want to know?”

He sneered right back at the mutt. “I forget sometimes, not all of us are capable of logical thought. If he is dead, we’re looking at three possibilities. Number one—the Dark Lord didn’t do it, and we have a possible ally. Number two—the Dark Lord did kill him, in which case we know little more than we did before.” He certainly wouldn’t be the first follower disposed of for one reason or another. “And number three—he was working on something for the Dark Lord that went wrong.” Just because he didn’t recognize that thing as an offensive weapon didn’t guarantee that either it or something else that had been in the house wasn’t one, and trial and error wasn’t the way to find out. Rather ironic actually, the majority of those resisting the Dark Lord incinerating themselves for him while trying to figure out how his henchman died.

“Or he—the name is Marcus Dantello—isn’t dead,” Alastor put in. “According to your reports, no body was every recovered. And if he isn’t dead…well, someone went to some trouble to make it appear he is. Being dead is a wonderful cover.”

“I’d say he’s dead,” the werewolf offered. “After that explosion…well, there wouldn’t have been much of a body left to find. A lot of power to expend just to fake a death when a simple fire would have worked just as well.”

“Either way, I’d personally like to know how that thing, whatever it is, survived,” Arthur Weasley put in. “It’s no kind of muggle creation.”

He’d know if anyone would. “I know Dantello only by reputation,” Severus said after a moment, taking the object to examine again. “He’s not known for any particular creativity, but he has obtained some interesting toys for the Dark Lord in the past. Mostly from the wizards in the Orient and northern Africa.”

“He’d just gotten back from a trip to Eastern Asia when we were assigned to watch him,” the mutt confirmed with some reluctance. “One of the attendants at the long-distance floo station said that he’d brought back a large trunk with him.”

Severus nodded slightly. “Can we open it?”

“Why?”

How he ever completed seven years at Hogwarts is utterly beyond me. “The crystal doesn’t seem to have any attendant power—obviously—which means if this does anything the power is contained in the liquid. Granted your scholastic abilities were abysmal, but even you should realize that visual examination is hardly the most efficient means of determining the properties of a potion.” The mutt opened his mouth to respond and was silenced by the werewolf. Probably the most intelligent thing Lupin’s done all month. “Alastor?”

“I haven’t tried. Do we have any guarantee that it won’t kill us all?”

“I doubt it’s explosive,” Severus said. “Even as a failsafe that’s rather…extreme. And difficult to keep stable if other ingredients are being added. By the same reasoning, I doubt it contains poison, not if it’s supposed to have any function other than poisoning people. I’m not suggesting we drink it, obviously….” Although if the mutt wants to volunteer I wouldn’t object. I wonder if anyone’s mentioned to him that Harry is staying with me until Hogwarts reopens. He suspected that the mutt’s reaction to that would almost be amusing enough to balance out his irritation at keeping the child in his quarters, but he didn’t particularly want to bring the subject up in front of so many bystanders. Perhaps I should encourage Harry to mention it in one of his letters…. He had no doubt it hadn’t been done already by virtue of the fact that he hadn’t had to deflect any hexes yet.

“If I was going to kill someone, I wouldn’t do it with that,” Alastor said, bringing him back to the subject at hand. “It’s an inconvenient size.”

“And material,” Severus agreed. “Of course this leaves us with the issue of how to open it.”

Alastor shook his head. “I think I would prefer to take it back with me to the Ministry and examine it in the Department of Mysteries. There are protections available there that we don’t have here.”

“And mediwitches on hand,” Arthur Weasley added.

“Watch who is aware you have it,” Severus warned. “The Dark Lord may have spies we don’t know of. I’ll see what else I can find out about Dantello.”

“And see to it that Potter stays out of Diagon Alley without a proper guard from now on,” Alastor said, giving Severus a half-glare.

He wasn’t sure whether it was for the incident with Harry or the warning he’d just given—quite unnecessary considering the person he was speaking to—but Severus nodded slightly. “I’ve notified the rest of the staff that he should be kept on Hogwarts’ grounds until further notice.”

“What are you talking about? What happened to Harry?” the mutt demanded. “Is he all right? I swear, if you’ve done anything to hi—”

“Aside from having a godfather with the mental capacity slightly less than that of the average flea, he’s perfectly fine,” Severus interrupted.

“Remind me again which one of us fell through a portgate and—”

“Lucius and several unidentified supporters of the Dark Lord attempted to kidnap Potter today,” Alastor interrupted, splitting a full glare between the two of them. “Severus notified Kingsley who arrested Kapshaw. After he was reconstituted, of course. We’ll be making a full report after we’ve had time to do an interrogation under Veritaserum.”

“Kapshaw?” the werewolf asked. “The name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“We hadn’t recorded him as a Dark Lord supporter,” Kingsley said, “but he was splinched trying to pull Potter away from Snape while Snape was in the middle of disapparition. Hence requiring reconstitution before I could complete the arrest.”

Probably the man he’d seen a few doors down that had prompted him to turn into the Zellers’ shop in the first place, Severus decided after a moment as the werewolf and Molly Weasley insisted—over the nearly incoherent ranting of the mutt—that Kingsley explain himself more fully. He hadn’t seen the man again from the shop window, but if this Kapshaw had been standing against the wall waiting for the door to open he probably wouldn’t have.

The questions turned to him as the Auror insisted that he had no more information, but there wasn’t a great deal that Severus could add at this point. He didn’t think it had been a planned attack, aside from the fact that Lucius had probably organized things he didn’t know who was involved, no, he didn’t have a recipe for splinching side-alongs. And no, he didn’t have to ‘explain himself’ as far as taking Harry into Diagon Alley went, no matter what the mutt seemed to think. Lupin was doing his best to be his usual obnoxiously conciliatory self, but even he clearly wasn’t pleased with that development, and Severus was getting quite annoyed when Minerva finally broke in and suggested that they wait until the interrogation had been completed since the conversation was clearly going nowhere. The idea obviously didn’t thrill any of the others, but they acquiesced more or less gracefully.

Much less, Severus observed as the mutt and the werewolf exchanged glances, but they’d apparently only come to the meeting for information about the stone because they got up and headed for the door as Tonks brought up a case possibly linked to Deatheater activity that the Aurors were working on. Maybe I won’t encourage Harry to tell him who he’s been staying with—it would be amusing for the first five minutes and then I’d be forced to hex him into oblivion just for the sake of my sanity. The rest of the members at the table also offered short briefings about their current activities and then Alastor turned back to Severus. “Anything else?”

From his tone he seemed to think that an attempted kidnapping was more than enough for one day; as it happened, Severus agreed. Unfortunately, there was the little matter of Malfoy’s ‘negotiations.’ “As it happens, I had an interesting conversation with the younger Malfoy in Diagon Alley today. Before the excitement. Apparently Lucius has been trading for rare potions ingredients.”

“The unicorn blood?” Minerva asked.

“He didn’t say which ones, but I’m going to assume that he will have access to that. Draco did specifically say negotiations though, so I think we’re looking at something outside the Dark Lord’s normal channels.”

“Have you been asked to supervise?”

“No.”

Her lips tightened at that, and several other faces went grim. He didn’t delude himself that it was all—or even mostly—due to concern for his well-being. He was their only reliable source of information inside the Dark Lord’s circle, and if he was removed…. Well, they would be reduced to what the rest of the Ministry was doing. Reacting to what the Dark Lord did rather than planning any kind of preemptive strikes. Fudge is an idiot, but even with someone competent running things that’s hardly the most efficient strategy.

“We need someone else on the inside,” Mungdungus said.

“And how do you propose we do that?” It wasn’t the first time that particular observation had been made. Occasionally it was made by someone who wanted more information, things he wasn’t in position to observe, other times by the mutt or another who thought like him and didn’t fully trust Severus. Don’t even remotely trust me, more like. Neither impetus gave them a means of accomplishing it, though. The Dark Lord burned through the mind of anyone who took the mark which meant that—at least when it was happening—they had to want to be a Deatheater. That negated the possibility of sending someone in as a spy from the start and reduced them to turning someone who was already one of his followers. Severus had come over of his own volition when he’d realized just how bad things were—it had been desperation that forced him to the Dark Lord in the first place when he’d been a scared, stupid child—but…well, the vast majority of the rest were far to cowed by the Dark Lord’s power to work against him. Of those who weren’t…well, the options weren’t particularly good.

Who could it be? Bellatrix, gone utterly mad between serving him and her time in Azkaban…assuming she wasn’t well her way long before she’d ever heard his name which quite frankly I doubt? Lucius, driven by power and power alone? Or Danziger, who’s frighteningly sane for a man who enjoys the pain of others as much as he does? Ellia, Davis, Jorgenson…the day one of them comes over to our side they’ll be selling ice boots at the doors of hell.

The rest of the Order seemed to be rehashing the old arguments—putting someone under Imperius to get through the Dark Lord’s screening being the current most popular theory. Justifying the use of the forbidden curse by the fact that the person it was placed on would know and consent to its use. He shook his head. It wouldn’t work. The Dark Lord was an accomplished enough Legilimens to notice that something was wrong even if he didn’t detect that particular curse, and he was more than paranoid enough to simply dispose of a new potential recruit rather than ferreting out the actual cause. Which, now that he thought about it, would actually mean a much kinder death for the Order member going in than he would get if the real plot was uncovered. Much kinder than my death will be if I’m ever found out. He shook his head and pushed away the thought with years of practice. Those bridges have already been burned; no sense fussing about it now.

Caution, in the forms of Minerva and the Weasleys, seemed to be winning over the rest, although Alastor was holding out hard for capturing a known current Deatheater and putting him under Imperius on the grounds that the Dark Lord wouldn’t be expecting such a thing. Severus knew better than to expect a little thing like the law against using Imperius to stop the older man—by his judgment they should all be condemned to Azkaban, or better yet Kissed, anyway. Not that I precisely disagree, but…. He shook his head. There was too much that could go wrong with that plan, not the least of which was the Dark Lord realizing that something was wrong and deliberately feeding them misinformation. Of course, it was far more likely that the unlucky victim would be killed offhand. Unpleasantly. Albus would be able to talk sense into Alastor if any of them could, but until he got here it looked as though the old Auror planned to just sit and growl at anyone who disagreed until the others gave up.

Severus stood. There were other things he could accomplish tonight. “Alastor, if you find out anything about that little toy of yours, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know. I’ll look through my books and see if there’s anything that might be relevant.”

“If we can discover what ingredients the Malfoys received, how likely do you think it will be that you can identify what Draco is working on?” Arthur asked.

“I should be able to give you a family of workings, at least. Beyond that—” Severus shrugged. “It depends entirely on what the ingredients are.” With a nod, he took his leave of the rest of the group and apparated back to the Hogwarts boundary. I should have mentioned the possible floo trap to Minerva. She’d been spending her nights in London since she had the morning ‘shift’ annoying Fudge…he summoned an owl and penned notes for both her and Albus. They would ensure that proper precautions were taken.

His note to Potter sat folded on the back of the couch and the door to his spare room was shut. Not particularly late, but then with none of his little friends to get up to mischief with…. Severus shrugged. He needed to jar several of the potions he’d been working on before he could retire himself, and perhaps take a glance through the books he kept hidden away as well. He’d prefer to take them out into the sitting room, but since he did currently have a guest in his quarters…. I suppose I can read in bed. Less comfortable than his couch—he didn’t particularly care to do multiple transfigurations on his furniture since the pieces never seemed to go back to exactly how they were—but it would be private.

Some time later, a fierce pounding on the door interrupted him. “—fessor? Professor, are you in there?!”

Severus jerked his head out of the current volume he was examining, stuffed it under his pillow, and stalked towards the door. “What is it, Mr. Potter?”

“It’s Professor Trelawny. I went to deliver her things and she was just lying there!”

Severus glanced at his clock. “And you’re informing me of this now? Why didn’t you call the one of the rest of the staff? Notify Madame Pomfrey?”

“I tried, she’s asleep!”

“Of course she is; it’s less than an hour until midnight. Why didn’t you tell someone when you found her?” he demanded. The child wasn’t that idiotic….

“I was just there! I didn’t tell her about not making it to the shop earlier because…well, mostly I didn’t want to talk to her. I was going to leave a note in her classroom before I came back here since I figured she’d be in her quarters asleep then. She’d get it tomorrow. When I put the note on the table I heard someone moaning, and that’s when I saw her laying there on the floor.”

“Did she hit her head?”

“I don’t think so—it didn’t look like it. I mean, it didn’t look like she had any bruises, and she wasn’t bleeding or anything.”

“Brilliant.” He took a step backward, pulling two jars off the closest shelf and forcing them on Harry. “Take these and come with me. No—wait. Give me those.” He snatched them back. “You go down to the infirmary and bang on the door until Poppy answers. The entrance to her quarters is just inside so it shouldn’t take long; she’s been the mediwitch here long enough that she couldn’t sleep deeply if she tried.”

The interior castle doors sprang open obligingly at his approach as he headed for the Divination classroom. Why that idiot woman chose this location…. He finally made it up the last flight of stairs and into the classroom proper and found Sybil in the same position that Harry had described. She was muttering though, not moaning, something about—“Brilliant, she prattles on in her sleep.” It was basically her usual—the coming darkness, something about a serpent, wandering eyes…. Well, the last was new, but knowing her they were probably evil wandering eyes bringing death and so on. Something in the way she was speaking was bothering him, but it wasn’t anything he could immediately place his finger on. He dumped some of the oil in the first jar onto a square of cloth and waved it under her nose.

“Severus? Are you up here?”

“She’s here, Poppy? I think she must have slipped and hit her head on the floor.”

“Hm.” The mediwitch was beside him, examining the other woman’s skull with probing fingers. “A bit of a bump, but nothing to fuss about.” She took the cloth and dumped more oil on it before repeating his movements. “Sybil? Sybil, wake up?”

The divination teacher’s brow wrinkled and the muttering stopped abruptly. “Poppy? What—where am I? What happened?”

“It looks like you took a little tumble,” Poppy said firmly. “Easy, now, you might still be a bit dizzy. Let’s get you down to the infirmary so I can check you out properly.”

Severus did a slightly more thorough examination of the room as Poppy eased her to her feet but didn’t see anything that would have caused the divination teacher to have fallen. Just a simple accident then. After Sybil was on her feet he passed over the jar of the bruise salve the mediwitch had been harassing him abut and waved his student towards the door. “Mr. Potter, I believe it’s time we go.”

“Is she going to be okay, Professor?”

“She’ll be fine,” Severus assured him.

“Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. He could have sworn he’d heard something like she was muttering before, but he couldn’t place it. That little shot of adrenaline had pretty neatly ruined his plans of getting to bed at any point in the near future, though, and he glanced down at his student. “I don’t know about you, but this is hardly how I expected to spend my night.”

“Me either.”

Severus picked up his pace as he heard Poppy give up on her attempt to help Sybil walk and speak the words to hover her down the stairs. “Poppy will keep her in the infirmary overnight which will no doubt give her plenty of time to concoct a whole host of new prophecies. I trust you managed to amuse yourself with your new broom this afternoon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you awake enough to practice your Occlumency for a short while?” As long as he wasn’t going to sleep, Severus figured that he might as well do something useful, and he had had enough of looking through his books for the night. They wouldn’t do much, but it would give him an idea of how much the boy had progressed. They could start officially tomorrow and try and get at least some solid grounding done before the rest of the brats returned.

“Sure,” Harry agreed after a moment. “I guess we’d better.”

“Indeed.” Soon enough there would be a summoning, and the sooner the child learned not to view those meetings the better. They settled themselves on the couch, Harry passing over his wand without comment. After a moment of consideration, Severus handed it back and stood.

“Professor?”

“A moment.” He knew he had at least one unused Pensieve in his workroom and another that was slightly less than half full. It contained memories of the Dark Lord’s activities that Albus had wanted to view and he hadn’t particularly wanted to put back into his skull. The things were ridiculously expensive—for good reason; he’d been required to complete the liquid portion as part of his final year of Mastery training and it had been the second most hellish week he’d ever had without the Dark Lord having been involved—but they were useful enough that he didn’t begrudge the money overly much.

“What are those for?” Harry asked as he carried them back into the sitting room.

“Do you know what a Pensieve is?”

“The Headmaster showed me the memories of Crouch’s trial last year in one,” he said after a moment. “Is that what those are? They’re awfully small.”

“Travel size,” Severus said dryly. Capacity increased dramatically with size, but so did expense.

“What do you want to show me?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Hence bringing out the things in the first place. There were a few memories he had that he didn’t want to chance the boy finding if he managed to turn Severus’ Legilimancy on him a second time. “Although the primary use for a Pensieve is to give another access to your memories or permit you to examine them from a third-person perspective, it also allows you to remove memories from your mind. When one is placed in the Pensieve you will remember the basic content, but the actual memory will be gone and thus not available for a Legilimens to find. If there is anything you truly do not wish me to see, you can put it in here for the time being and return it to your mind after we finish.”

Harry seemed to consider the idea for a moment and then nodded. “How do I do it?”

Severus demonstrated quickly with the first of his memories—the memory of his initiation into the ranks of the Deatheaters—and with a nod and a frown the boy went to work. Severus added that horrible day back in fifth year and the last explosive confrontation between his father and himself and his mother before pushing his away. The Pensieve would hold one more, but among the rest of his memories he couldn’t determine one specifically worse than the rest so there was really no point. “Are you ready?”

“How many will it hold?”

“Six to eight, depending on the length.”

“Hm.” He considered for a moment and then added one more before pushing it aside. “I guess that’s it then. Do you want my wand?”

“Most certainly.” Not that Potter hadn’t proved capable of causing physical damage without it, but there was no point in making it any easier. “Clear your mind.”

“Ready.”

“Legilimens.”

A flash of attic, and then he was standing in the Great Hall with a group of other children…in preparation for sorting, it appeared. Eyes swept the High Table, taking in the faces staring down at him, and Severus jerked at a spike of pain from his forehead when the boy looked in his direction. Well…his and Quirrel’s direction, rather. He pulled out of the boy’s mind and glared. “You were doing much better previously. You need to be able to Occlude your mind every night, as well as any time you begin to feel the Dark Lord’s presence. That requires you to practice on your own as well as when we are having these sessions.”

“I have been practicing.”

Severus glared. “Obviously not enough. Again.” Harry shifted slightly, and he raised his wand. “Legilimens.” The attics again—an even briefer flash—and he was standing in front of a group of primary school children being yelled at by a woman with…blue?… hair. He pulled back again. “Concentrate, Mr. Potter.”

He sighed and shifted yet again. “All right, I’m ready.”

This time the boy managed to hold the image of the attic foremost in his mind for perhaps ten seconds before Severus was able to push through, and he gave a quick nod as he pulled back out. “Better.” Still not as well as he’d been doing back in Brazil, but it had been several days. “I’m still not impressed with your definition of practice, however. I suggest that until school resumes you spend at least an hour a day working on clearing your mind, and fit it in that much time at least a few days a week after as well. I’m sure Miss Granger would be happy to help you schedule it.”

Harry shrugged noncommittally, and Severus’ eyes narrowed.

“This is your life we’re talking about. Not only your life, but also those of all your little friends, your Godfather, and possibly everyone else at Hogwarts,” myself included. “You’ve seen the Dark Lord; what do you think will happen when he realizes that he is able to access your mind? And I assure you, at some point he will notice. You. Must. Practice. Now, again. Legilimens.”

The boy held out a bit longer than the last, maybe, but not much more, and Severus found himself in what appeared to be another early school memory. He hung around a for a few minutes, waiting to see if Potter would be able to evict him, but although he could feel the push it wasn’t yet strong enough. So if the Dark Lord manages to access one of those memories he prefers to keep hidden as I did before he might get angry enough to get rid of him, but with run-of-the-mill unpleasantness he just doesn’t have the force. Not really a surprise—it was the same reasoning by which he was insisting that Potter use the attics or a similar image to keep the Dark Lord at bay rather than a simple wall—the power for it simply wasn’t available. Anger was a potent force, useful for short periods of increased energy, but as a long-term source of strength it just wasn’t practical. The small children were pelting him with round balls approximately the size of bludgers, and he pulled out with a grimace of disgust. “Concentrate on the attics, Harry, and on the attics alone. It will be difficult once he is actually in your memories, but you stand a better chance of being able to redirect him back into them as opposed to throwing him out of your mind.”

The boy didn’t look convinced, but he nodded slightly. “Again?”

“Tempus.” Severus frowned for a moment and then nodded. This exercise was just supposed to be a check as to Harry’s strength, and it was late. “Once more. Legilimens.”

Attic, attic, attic—so this was where the Headmaster had put the Mirror of Erised, good to know assuming it was still there—and then…well, it was probably part of Hogwarts since he couldn’t think of where else the boy would have encountered stone tunnels, but he’d never seen the door the boy was approaching before. The part of him that was still Severus heard the hissing that caused the door to open, but the part that shared Harry’s mind only heard him tell the door to open. Interesting. The door began to swing open and then there was blankness for several moments before he found himself back in the attic. “You managed to visualize nothing, Harry?” he asked as he pulled out. It was more impressive than it sounded, actually; holding an image in one’s mind was much simpler than holding the lack of one.

“I put the rest of it in the Pensieve,” Harry admitted. “But I managed to get you back into the attic.”

Most probably because he’d had nothing else to focus on and hadn’t bothered to attempt to push any deeper, but he nodded slightly. “Practice tomorrow and we’ll try again the day after. Perhaps take a walk through the attics and make sure you have strong images of them.”

Harry nodded slightly, and he stood. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

Apparently Severus had been more tired than he’d realized because he actually managed to sleep through breakfast, waking to find that the brat was already gone for the day. Which meant that his question about just what the boy had been doing out so late would go unanswered—it hadn’t occurred to him last night, but eleven was not a reasonable hour at which to be running errands. And Minerva was worried about him. I predict that when the rest of the Unholy Trio returns they’ll be causing twice as much trouble as usually just to make up for lost time. He returned the three memories he’d put in his Pensieve last night to his head and stowed both it and the one still containing Harry’s memories in his workroom. He’d show the boy how to put his memories back into his mind whenever he returned.

Since it was too late to take his meal in the Great Hall, he called for a house elf and continued to peruse his collection of Dark Art books for any mention of the artifact the mutt and the werewolf had brought to the Order meeting. In the end he’d come up with nothing particularly useful; it was unfortunate but not particularly surprising. He hadn’t truly expected to find anything—as a strictly spelled object he might have overlooked it in an earlier pass, but he’d paid special care to those items with potion components with an eye to any that the Dark Lord might have an interest in. He’d moved on to combing through his more public library—sorted by subject as he’d ordered—when a knock interrupted him. “Enter.”

“Severus,” Minerva greeted.

“Hello. I thought you were going to be at the Ministry this morning.”

“I was, but when Albus and I got your message about checking the floo network we got a few of the ministry wizards—ones we trust—to check it. When they didn’t find anything, well…I’m the first test subject.”

“It does our cause no good if he captures you!” Severus objected. Bloody Gryffindor.

“My, my, I didn’t know you cared.”

He glared, but as usual she paid no attention. “Finishing your redecorating, I see.” She lifted one off the top of his discard pile. “The Wizards’ Guide to the Ultimate Lifemate? Why Severus, I wasn’t aware that you were looking.”

He sneered in return, refusing to rise to her bait, but was mildly relieved that Minerva was the one visiting. At least she confined herself to snide comments; he hated to think what Rhiannon would have come up with. “Flotsam. I haven’t looked through this mess in years. Was there something you wanted or are you here simply to critique my living quarters?”

“I came to see Harry, actually. I’ve heard he’s been helping some of the others with their classrooms and I was wondering if I could borrow him.”

If this wasn’t an attempt to convince the boy to talk to her, Severus would eat his best cloak. “He got a new broom yesterday so I’m not sure how much luck you’ll have. According to his note he was headed for the Quidditch pitch.”

“Ah.” She nodded and rose. “I will try there, then.” She glanced at a few more of the books in his discard pile and smirked. “My First Year in the World—The Entrance of Gilderoy Lockhart? You know, he was nice enough to leave me an autographed copy of his encounter with the boggart clan. Would you like me to drop it off?”

“Out!” He pointed sharply at the door, and, smirk deepening, she gathered her robes and swept out. “Obnoxious feline.” He’d finished tying up the books he was planning to be rid of and was beginning to reshelve the rest when there was a loud bang on the door. “Come in, Hagrid.”

The half-giant came in, smiling cheerfully. “How’d you know it was me?”

“You have a rather distinctive knock. When did you get back?”

“Came in late this morning. Been gone awhile you know—Order business.”

Severus nodded, waving at him to take a seat. Hagrid had always been kind to him, even when he’d been a more-or-less friendless, and considerably less than friendly, student. “It went well, I hope.”

“Well enough, I suppose. Heard you and Harry had a spot of trouble.”

“It’s been sorted out, I believe.”

“Classes start again next week,” Hagrid said with a nod of satisfaction. “Be good to have the children back.”

“I, personally, wouldn’t mind a longer holiday.” He saw the other man shift slightly. “Is there something you need?”

“Well, not need, precisely, it’s more on the lines of a favor…. It’s really not important, I suppose.”

“Well, what is it?” He knew better than to agree immediately—this was the man who kept hippogriffs and baby dragons as pets—but if it wasn’t ridiculous he would do his best. In my infinite spare time.

“I, uh, brought a friend back with me, you might say, and he’s having a spot of trouble with his throat. Climate change and all that. Was wondering if you might have any medicine on hand.”

“I’d think Poppy would be of more use—she has cures for almost every ailment the students seem to come down with, I’m sure that includes sore throats.” He paused for a moment. “Your friend is human, correct?”

“Well, now you see that’s where the trouble is.”

Severus spent a moment envisioning himself making throat remedies for any of the numerous fire-and-or-acid breathing creatures on the face of the planet.

“He’s a giant.”

Severus nodded, more than slightly relieved. “Normal remedies should work well enough. Poppy probably doesn’t have that much in stock, but I’ll make up a special batch of the standard throat cure for him this afternoon.” It wasn’t a difficult potion to make, and since most of the time required to brew it was spent letting it simmer it wouldn’t take too much time away from his own work.

Hagrid gave Severus a broad smile. “There’s no need to go to any trouble, whenever you’ve got the time I’d appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble.” He could set it up and have it done by dinner. Although he was curious why Hagrid’s Order business had led him to bringing a giant back to Hogwarts. Granted the man occasionally interpreted things…differently…than most people, but going that far was rather unusual. He debated trying to get the full story—it never took much—but decided against it. I have more than enough of my own problems to deal with, thank you very much. At least he was fairly certain that he could count on Minerva to handle whatever problems she seemed to think Harry was having now that she’d decided to speak to him.

“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time,” Hagrid said with a quick nod. “Need to see how the animals have gotten on without me.”

See how many of them have gotten lose and wreaked havoc on the Forbidden Forest in your absence, more like. But he liked Hagrid and saw him to the door with more courtesy than he’d shown the rest of his uninvited visitors. The oversized cauldrons are in the spare room…. Harry’s temporary quarters were neater than he’d expected; the boy’s trunk sat against one wall with his owl cage hanging from the ceiling. Hedwig pulled her head out from under her wing for a moment when Severus entered but didn’t seem to find him worth her attention and went back to sleep just as quickly. The cauldrons he wanted were stacked in a corner and he was pulling out the largest of the lot when a shimmer on the nightstand caught his attention. A book—an old one. So this is what he was trying to get from my bookshelf. It was recognizable enough, an addendum to Hogwarts, A History. Not a particularly popular one, mostly because rather than the factual information that the original contained this one was made up mostly of rumors and supposition, but as with the Lockhart book this one had somehow found its way into his possession. There was a marker in it, and he considered for a moment before opening it. “Secret rooms and hidden passages.” Wonderful. At least Harry was out flying rather than getting into places he shouldn’t in the castle—his broom was gone so Severus judged he’d been truthful in his note. He put the book back down and hovered the cauldron out of the room. He still needed to ask Harry what he’d been up to last night; he could ask about the book then as well.