The alarm on his door alerted him to a visitor, and he raised and eyebrow as Harry slipped in. “Mr. Potter.”

“Professor.” The boy was doing his best to keep his face blank, but he was failing fairly miserably.

Gryffindors. Severus didn’t even need Legilimancy to determine what he was feeling—primarily anxiety. Considering that the last time he was here I threw him out, more than fair. A little bit of…something…as he took in Severus’ injuries, a widening of the eyes, a quick hiss of breath, but not enough that Severus could take offense. He saw the worst of it in the hospital wing, I suppose. Something he still hadn’t quite forgiven Poppy and Albus for. “Well?”

“I…Professor McGonagall said you were going to keep giving me Occlumency lessons?”

“For the sake of not only you but the rest of the students at this school, yes,” Severus agreed. At least Harry was looking at him as he spoke, bandages and eye-patch and all, rather than a staring at a spot two inches over his right shoulder like a few of his colleagues. Harry shifted slightly, still only a few feet from the door and looking a bit like he wanted to bolt. Not that he ever would, but he looked it. Severus hid a smirk. “However,” he nodded to the two Pensieves sitting on the table, his which he’d just put a few memories back into and Harry’s which had never had the memories taken from it, “I assume there will be no more incidents like the last?”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, it won’t happen again,” he said hurriedly. “It really was an accident—”

“You’ve already apologized for the indiscretion. I only ask that it’s not repeated.”

Harry relaxed slightly. “Yes, sir. I…you can look at mine if you want.”

Severus shook his head. “Not necessary.”

Green eyes met his levelly for a moment, and he remembered that the boy occasionally managed to be not as thickheaded as he appeared. “It’s fair, I guess.”

“You did offer.” Not until after he’d done it, but still. “I didn’t view all of them.” Not that I wouldn’t have if the Dark Lord hadn’t called, but that isn’t the point.

“Neither did I. Just the one with my parents…and one with your parents.”

That’s something anyway. The boy already knew about his family situation, such as it had been. “May I ask why you felt the need to hide your family and the Mirror of Erised? I would have thought it was incidents with your uncle that you wouldn’t want me viewing.”

Harry shrugged. “You already know about that. With the Mirror it’s…I don’t know quite how to explain. I know it wasn’t real, the Mirror, but it’s the first time I ever really saw them, and I didn’t want somebody else to have that.”

Severus wasn’t entirely certain that he understood the logic, but then he’d had difficulty understanding the logic of fifteen year old boys even when he’d been one. He nodded sharply. “It’s settled, then. Take a seat.” He waited until Harry had done so. “Your wand, unless there’s anything else you’d like to put in your Pensieve?”

He considered for a moment and then shook his head and offered his wand. There was a moment of awkwardness as Severus had to put down his own for a moment in order to accept it, but at least the brat had the sense not to comment.

“Legilimens.” Making contact with only one eye was a little odd, but it wasn’t long before Severus found himself in the attics. He roamed for a short while before applying a bit more force and ended up in a relatively small bedroom—muggle—staring out a window with bars on it. And then a most bizarre contraption floated into view, and Severus pulled back as he recognized the flying car owned by the Weasley family. “You held the image of the attics better than you had been, but if I do push past your defenses you have to be able to force me back. Or, better yet, don’t let me out in the first place. If you feel force, just continue to redirect the attention to another attic.”

Harry nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Legilimens.” Attics—a briefer flash since he applied more force from the start—and this time he and Diggory were both reaching for the Goblet of Fire at the end of the maze. Severus wasn’t surprised to find himself in blankness immediately after they touched it—he’d seen the memory of it in the boy’s Pensieve after all—but he allowed himself to be pushed back into the attics before forcing back into the boy’s mind.

They continued to work for most of an hour, before the door indicated he had another visitor. For once he wished Harry had his invisibility cloak with him—his cover as a spy might not mean much any more, but that didn’t mean he wanted news of the boy’s lessons spread all over the Wizarding world. Or that I’m tolerating visiting students.

“Shelve the books.”

“Professor?”

“Now!” Harry grabbed his wand on his way past and began to stack books on the shelves.

“Severus,” Minerva greeted, slipping in quickly. “Ah, Mr. Potter. If you’ve finished your detention….”

Her surprise at seeing him shelving books was obvious, and Severus smirked. Serves you right. She clearly wanted to speak to him about something, though, and he dismissed the boy with a curt gesture. “Tuesday, eight o’clock. And practice.” Harry ducked out the door and he turned back to Minerva. “Well?”

“Albus just received a message from the Ministry of Magic—Umbridge has been recalled.” Now that he studied her more closely, he could see her almost dancing with pleasure.

“What?” Despite their best efforts, Albus and Minerva hadn’t been able to prevent the woman from return to Hogwarts, and although he’d been spared her company—probably because he couldn’t do anything for her—one of the few things each of his unwanted visitors had commented on during their visits was what a hash she was making of everything. Knowing Fudge, that was a situation that he’d have encouraged, not…. “Why?”

“One of the papers found out about the Dementors abandoning Azkaban, and some of his supporters are starting to shift. I don’t know all the details, but she will be returning to the Ministry tomorrow.”

“This is unexpected.” Now that the news was out, Fudge would have to make some statement about the Dementors. I can see it now—a long, pointless speech about how replacing the Dementors with Aurors is safer for the Wizarding world and it was all part of his brilliant plan. No doubt it would fool plenty of the idiots out there, but the rest…he’s probably pulling most of his power base in close. Unless—“Who is she being replaced with?” There were a few even worse choices that he could come up with. Not many, but a few, and most of them wanted him dead.

“She isn’t,” she replied, pursing her lips. “Which is the only thing that worries me.”

Would that that was the only thing worrying him. Still, it was odd…surely Fudge would appoint someone to the position in her place. It wasn’t as if they had to be competent, not considering some of the people who’d held the position in the last few years.

“Albus was thinking about asking Remus to fill in—he was a popular professor and the students did learn—but since word got out that he’s a werewolf I’m not sure it’s such a wise idea.” She shook her head. “Fudge could throw out a few choice comments about the safety of the children here and draw quite a bit of attention away from himself.”

“Considering what happened the last time the werewolf was teaching, he’d be justified,” Severus pointed out, ignoring her glare. Besides which, if he came back no doubt the mutt would as well. They were quite possibly the last two people—and he used that term extremely loosely—that he wanted seeing him like this.

“It’s not like there is a line of other applicants. You could perhaps—”

“It’s not an option.” Not now, not when he was still too weak to stand for more than fifteen minutes without support, or more than an hour even with, and especially when he had trouble gauging spell distances. He’d never live down a student out-spelling him.

“It is an option in the future,” she returned.

I don’t particularly want to leave Hogwarts when the year is done. At this point, I may not even be able to leave Hogwarts and expect to live more than a day, which would make taking a cursed position remarkably stupid. “Regardless, it does us no good in the short term, unless you’d like them to be without any instruction at all.” Which, she knew as well as he did, was a very bad idea considering that a war was coming.

“I believe Albus was considering asking one of the Aurors to fill in, but with so many of them having to be assigned to Azkaban they just don’t have the time.”

Subtlety really wasn’t her strong point, and he read the next logical conclusion in her eyes. Without the use of Legilimancy. “He’s going to ask Alastor back?” The idea didn’t thrill him in the least…it was marginally better than bringing back the mutt and the werewolf, but the ex-Auror wasn’t currently one of his favorite people either.

“He never actually taught anything so the curse shouldn’t be in effect,” she pointed out. “Besides, there’s no doubt that he knows the material.”

“He spent the last year locked in a trunk; even assuming Albus can convince him to return, I’m not sure how much confidence that’s going to engender.”

“Oh, somehow I doubt he’ll have too much trouble. This is Mad-Eye Moody we’re talking about.”

Severus snorted. “Have a good evening, Minerva, I think I’m going to turn in now.”

///////////

The chime at the door—the student version—startled him into dumping juice onto the tablecloth rather than into the glass he’d been aiming at, and he leveled a glare at the door panel. He’d actually managed to stay conscious despite Poppy’s dosing and had planned to spend some of his free time this morning practicing. Practicing table manners of all things, but getting used to this single-eye existence was proving a bit more difficult than he’d anticipated. Last night the mediwitch had come to see him and had started made some muttering noises about him beginning to take his meals in the Great Hall again. He didn’t want to. Letting everyone gawk at him, whisper behind his back…better he just stay here. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get away with ignoring her for too long, and if he was going to be forced to be in public view he wasn’t about to disgrace himself by being unable to cut his own meat or pour his own drink. The drink was actually more of an issue—he could cast a cutting charm in the general vicinity of the plate and provided he didn’t put too much force behind it only the rest of his breakfast would suffer if he missed the sausage—but he’d splashed liquid onto the tablecloth twice so far attempting to pour a drink. Deciding—rightfully—to blame that last splash on whoever was at the door, he set the jug down, banished the mess, and snapped at the visitor to enter. Probably one of the little idiots took a dare from friends to come and see the crippled bat. We’ll see if they try that again.

“Professor?”

He definitely hadn’t expected to find Harry at the door. What the boy was doing here when he should be off cavorting in Hogsmeade with his little friends….

“I’m not allowed down to Hogsmeade,” the boy said with a frown, answering that question before it was asked. “Professor McGonagall said it wasn’t safe, even if I did promise to stay within sight of a professor.”

Which you probably wouldn’t have done, Severus didn’t bother to say. And regardless she was perfectly correct. He should have thought of it himself. “So you decided to come visiting down here because…?”

“Well, um….” He shifted uncomfortably.

“What did you do?”

“What? No, it’s not like that!”

There’s a first. The boy made no move to elaborate, and he raised an eyebrow. “I do have other things to do with my time than sit here and have a staring match with you, you realize?” Not many of them, I’ll grant, but a few.

Harry flushed, and then blurted out, “I…you are going to be okay, right Professor? I didn’t have time to ask you yesterday, but….”

“I’m not likely to pass away at any point in the near future from injuries sustained.”

The boy frowned. “Well, I kind of figured that since you’re up and about and stuff, but…I don’t know, Professor McGonagall’s looked really worried these last couple days, and the headmaster wouldn’t say anything.”

“I am…recovering.” As much as possible, given the circumstances. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with a child. Or anyone else. “Was there anything else that you wanted?”

He produced a package and shoved it towards Severus. “This is for you.”

Severus stared at it for a moment, wondering idly if it contained something explosive. “What is it? Some kind of get-well present?” Merlin forbid his coworkers ever got a similar idea, his quarters would be flooded with all manner of nonsense in a matter of hours.

“No, it’s a thank you present. You’re supposed to open it.”

“I think I’d rather hear about it first.” The boy shifted, glaring slightly, and Severus indicated the chair across from him. “Consider that an order.”

Harry dropped down into the seat gracelessly. “Well…when we first got back from Brazil, I told Ron and Hermione that I had to stay with you until school opened. Don’t worry, they promised not to tell anyone.”

Not his major concern at the moment, but he nodded his understanding.

“Hermione owled back and said it would be appropriate to get you a thank-you card and gift for letting me use your spare room.”

It stood to reason that the brains of the trio would be the one to recommend basic social courtesies. He hated to think what the Weasley brat had suggested. “And?”

“Well, a card sounded kind of dumb, but I definitely owed you something since you didn’t want me here in the first place.”

True enough that he’d have preferred the boy stayed elsewhere, although it was not something that he would vocalize. “Midnight escapades aside, you were a tolerable houseguest.” No need to bring up the Pensieve incident since that had been settled between them. “A gift was unnecessary; a simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.”

“Well, you’ll have to take it anyway, because I don’t know what else to do with it.”

That’s encouraging.

Harry flushed slightly. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right, it’s just that I wouldn’t know what to do with any of it.”

“Bringing us back to what, precisely, that is.”

“Well, you said stuff—blood and hair and such—from a unicorn was valuable partly because it was so rare, right?”

“Yes.”

“I figured blood and scales and things from a basilisk were probably pretty valuable too.”

Basilisk blood? He glanced at the packet again as Harry continued to speak.

“I looked in the library and only saw a couple potions that used any parts from a basilisk, but it sounded like there were probably more in the Restricted Section that I wasn’t allowed to look at so….” He pushed the package across the table.

Basilisk blood. His fingers twitched. “Where, precisely, did you manage to find this?” There was no way he could have bought it—not without emptying his vault, at least, and he wasn’t that idiotic. I hope.

“Down in the Chamber of Secrets. I just left it—the basilisk—lying there after it was dead, and Hagrid told us in Care of Magical Creatures that some things could stay preserved for years after their deaths so I figured I could at least look.” He frowned. “It took me forever to figure out how to get to it though. I was afraid if I jumped with my broom it would get broken and then I’d be stuck unless Fawkes came and got me again, and I couldn’t fly my broom down that way without going too fast and crashing at the bottom. Except the closest I could other than the entrance in the girls’ bathroom was that stupid self-locking dungeon.”

“Self-locking dungeon?” He should probably be angry about the boy going back into the Chamber, but the thought of what might be sitting on his table stilled his tongue.

“The one you and Professor McGonagall found me in? I’m almost positive the Chamber was right on the other side, but I couldn’t blast through the wall. And then the door wouldn’t open and let me out.” He shrugged.

Which would make sense if a caretaker was using it for particularly unpleasant detentions, Severus had to admit. “You managed to get into the Chamber somehow, obviously.” He was having trouble keeping his gaze off the package.

“Ron and I went down the way I knew about last night, and then Hermione floated our brooms down after us. We flew back out after we had everything.”

Probably after curfew, Severus knew, but for once thought he could overlook that. At least he didn’t go down alone.

“Anyway, there’s plenty more down there if you want it, but…thanks for letting me stay with you.” He shifted awkwardly.

“You are quite welcome, although….” He shook his head. “You are aware you could sell the remains of the basilisk and probably make enough money to buy a good portion of the Wizarding world?” It hadn’t occurred to him for some reason that there was a dead basilisk ripe for harvesting down in the Chamber or he’d have suggested it to Albus. Why it didn’t occur to me…. Well, no sense worrying about that now.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of money, and it’s not really my basilisk anyway since it’s at Hogwarts. I can just get to it.”

And the hat wanted to put you in Slytherin? It must need respelling. He bowed slightly from his seat anyway. “If that’s how you feel. As I said, a gift was in no way necessary, but it is appreciated.”

“Tuesday then, Professor.”

“Ah.” Severus held up a hand. “In the future, I would suggest that you inform a professor if you plan to enter the Chamber of Secrets. There may be nothing left down there that would harm you, but at least that way should we need to find you we have some idea where to begin looking.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry was gone a moment later, and Severus picked at the twine holding the package together. It was well and truly tied, and he snatched his wand and tapped it sharply. The cloth fell away, and he found himself very nearly salivating over the contents. Not only a vial of blood, but also a square of scaled skin. And a fang. A fang that still contained venom. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. All mine. He actually bounced slightly before he caught himself, well aware that he was acting like a child, but for the moment he didn’t care. His copy of Moste Potente Potions had several that he’d like to try, and there were half a dozen other books that at least made mention of basilisk ingredients. Not a great deal of research had been done, and since he was currently on leave from teaching….

He rewrapped the package and took it into his workroom, setting it carefully on the laboratory bench. This was not the time to miss and drop something. What to make first…. There were several specially-designed non-reactive cauldrons tucked up at that top of the cabinet, and he reached for one without thinking. And bumped the stub of his left arm on the shelf. No. Elation faded as quickly as it had come. A mistake in an OWL level potion had nearly wiped out a good portion of his laboratory, a NEWT level error had flooded the room with semi-poisonous gas…with something like basilisk ingredients any kind of fault in the brewing would very likely kill him. And without two hands, it was all but guaranteed he’d make one. He glanced back at the ingredients. It figures that I would get my hands on potions’ ingredients that any decent master would kill for, and I can’t trust myself to use them. Not only does the universe hate me, it’s having quite a laugh at my expense. He could hire someone else to use them in making something for him, of course, but it was the creation that had always mattered more to him than the end result. The wyrsa venom as well…. Granted he’d lost most of that when his experiments had failed while he was lying unconscious in the infirmary, but there was still a bit left. I’m better equipped now than I have ever been, and I can’t do a damn thing! ‘Fair’ was an idiotic term as he well knew, but a refrain that sounded suspiciously like ‘it’s not fair’ kept playing in the back of his mind.

‘Attach a damn spoon to what’s left of your arm,’ a gruff voice had suggested a few days ago, and Severus frowned for a moment. It had sounded idiotic at the time—not quite as idiotic as leaning over a cauldron and stirring with his teeth of course, but still not particularly intelligent—but it was true that if he did that he’d be able to handle ingredients with his other hand. He had enough wandless magic to remove caps and stoppers if he chose to exert himself…granted he’d have to be careful with potions that reacted with ambient magic, but it might be doable. Damn you, Alastor. He couldn’t just let this opportunity go to waste, but he didn’t particularly want any reminders of that conversation. And he hated having to admit that the old Auror might have been right. About anything. He’d have damned Potter as well, for giving him a reason to try, but that would have to wait until the thrill of what sat on his counter faded.

The basilisk parts were carefully stored in one of his more heavily shielded cabinets, and he cleaned the remains of the Calming Draught from the counter—and wall—before sitting down to determine what he’d need. He hadn’t particularly wanted to do a detailed examination of what remained of his arm before, but given that he was planning an attachment he’d best know what he was dealing with. It ended at the elbow, now…he could feel some twitching in his muscles that indicated that the joint might still be in place, but not enough bone to do much with. He wasn’t going to take the bandage off until Poppy agreed that it had healed—he didn’t need to lose more pieces of himself—but…well, she might have her own ideas about attachments. Or the healers at St. Mungos; he couldn’t possibly be the only wizard in existence who’d been through this. He’d never heard about one who worked in potions, but….

It was rather pathetic; he could remember talking with the man he’d been apprenticed to once upon a time and a phrase the man had always used. ‘I’d give my right arm’ for this or that. He’d said it was a muggle saying he’d picked up while studying at one of their universities. Well, Severus had given his left arm, had gotten the ingredients, and was now unable to do anything with them until he scrounged a replacement for said arm.

Poppy would be more likely to cooperate with him—and keep her mouth shut about it—if she was pleased with his progress, and to that end he headed back into the sitting room and sat down to give the jug another try. After all, if I can’t cut food or pour a drink, I can hardly manage more precise motions over a cauldron.

///////////

A week or so after his first clumsy attempts, Severus felt confident enough to attempt dinner with the rest of the faculty. Poppy was delighted with how he was progressing and in fact had been the one to suggest he find an attachment for what remained of his arm…pros-thesees, she’d called them. A muggle term, because muggles had considerably more experience with these types of injuries than wizards. Severus felt that that only made sense considering that they apparently had weapons that could remove entire limbs with only a roar. He didn’t have any kind of pros-thesees yet—wouldn’t have one until the limb had finished scarring over and he’d had a chance to look at the options available—but knowing what was waiting for him made him rather more eager than he cared to admit. Especially since he’d had time to peruse a few of the journals he remembered and had half-a-dozen experiments planned out to try. Still…there was dinner to get through first, and he considered the staircase with a frown before starting up. They were doable if he didn’t look down, he’d discovered yesterday; if he didn’t look at them he didn’t have a problem with his judgment being off by a few centimeters. It’s not as though I ever needed to watch my feet when climbing stairs before.

There was a hush in the hall as he appeared at the door and then rapid whispered conversations—as well as some less-than-discrete pointing and staring—began to take place among the students, but with the exceptions of Hagrid who was beaming nearly widely enough to split even his formidable jaw and Trelawny who looked like she was about to stand up and preach doom to the entire room, the High Table was acting reasonably normal. Then again, for Sybil that is normal. Poppy probably warned them to expect me. He kept his eyes forward, pretending not to notice the commotion among the students as he walked up the aisle to the High Table. I should have come earlier. He’d remember that from now on.

“Decided to live again, boy?” a voice muttered as he made his way to the open seat between Hagrid and Slughorn.

Since hexing another professor—even a temporary one—at the dinner table would make even more of a stir than his appearance had, he decided that ignoring Alastor was probably the wisest course of action. It looked as if the meal was to be roast, with potatoes and carrots. He could manage that. Even better, Albus was somehow managing to refrain from making any kind of speech about his injury or recovery despite a smile that kept creeping out when he thought Severus wasn’t looking. Hagrid had dumped a measure of pumpkin juice in Severus’ cup at the same time he filled his own—and, thankfully for Severus’ pride, Rolanda’s who was sitting on his other side—which removed his last major concern for the evening. Well, except for the possibility that one of the Deatheaters’ children might leap up and curse me, but there’s only a remote chance of that all things considered.

“You feeling all right?” Hagrid asked worriedly. “Wasn’t too sure when you weren’t up and about; was afraid Gr—my, uh, friend—was a little rough when he brought you to me. Haven’t been at the castle too much lately or I’d have come down to see you for myself.”

Severus vaguely recalled a memory of being hauled along upside down and wondered who or what Gr was.

“See, he smelled you on the jars of throat potion you’d made up, and when he saw you lying there….” Hagrid shrugged.

Ah. His giant friend. “No, I believe that all of my injuries are courtesy of the Dark Lord’s contingent. Healing took longer than usual because of the extent.” Hagrid half-snarled, the look obviously aimed at the Deatheaters, but Severus waved it off and tried not to smile. For a man who could easily be terrifying, Hagrid just doesn’t do threats well. Most of the rest of his meal was spent in a discussion with Slughorn about the classes he was currently covering for Severus. The man had been his Head-of-House when he was at Hogwarts and had always been a little distracted, but he was a fairly competent professor, and it was a relief to discuss something besides his injuries. It also kept his full attention away from the students’ tables where there was entirely too much pointing and whispering going on for his peace of mind. Less from the Gryffindor table, probably because Harry had already given them some warning; more and in a considerably darker tone from the Slytherin table for obvious reasons that he didn’t care to think too deeply on.

///////////

A scratch at the door to his quarters drew him out of his book, and he stood quickly. He was much steadier than he had been; he’d eaten both breakfast and dinner in the Great Hall today and made it through both without embarrassing himself. Well, mostly. There had been a bit of an incident with the toast this morning, but he was fairly sure that he’d banished the jam from his robes before anyone noticed. An advantage to wearing black.

Tonks and whoever among the Order members had been selected to impersonate him should have had their meeting with the Horace girl over two hours ago. No alarms had gone up about an attack in Hogsmeade, so he was cautiously optimistic that things were going well. Whether she would actually agree to join them or not…well, that was another issue entirely. An owl flew in as soon as the panel was open, landing on his table and holding out a leg. When Severus took his time getting back to his seat, it hooted impatiently. “A moment. Would you care for some dinner?” He snapped his fingers and ordered a house elf to deliver a plate of scraps; the next hoot the owl gave was considerably more content.

There wasn’t much to the letter—“SS. Met EH. Tentatively confirm useful. Gave letter. Next meet scheduled. Request phrase on the back off the snake-head table in seventh year dormitory as soon as possible. Interesting house. SP.”

“Interesting house.” Severus had to shake his head. SP…Sturgis Podmore. Podmore had been a good choice to impersonate him. They didn’t know each other well, but the other man had been only a two years ahead of him at Hogwarts so he was at least familiar with Severus’ mannerisms. And far more able to mimic his voice than Tonks could have. He’d been in Ravenclaw…sending a Slytherin would have worked better, but there weren’t precisely a large number of them in the Order. He scrawled, “Stand back,” on the back of the note and waited until the owl had eaten it’s fill before sending it back out.

Tentatively confirm useful. Nicely hedged phrase meaning…what, precisely? Would she willingly bring information for them, or could they simply draw information out of her without her notice. He would say the first; the second would be embarrassing in a formerly-Slytherin student. How useful that information would be they would have to wait to determine—as a new recruit she wouldn’t be privy to many of the Dark Lord’s decisions, though by the same logic he wouldn’t be putting her under the same scrutiny that he would his closer advisors—but it would be something, at least.

The door sounded again, and he checked the time. “Come in, Mr. Potter.”

“Hello, Professor.” He shut it behind him carefully. “Are you feeling better? You’ve been coming to meals again.”

“Yes, I had noticed that. You’re looking rather…absurdly cheerful.”

“Umbridge is gone which means we’re actually doing stuff in DADA again—cool stuff—and Quidditch practice starts next week.”

“Ah.” The important things to any child. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, sir.” He knew enough by now to set his wand on the table this time instead of trying to hand it to Severus.

“Legilimens.” Attics, attics, attics…ah, a muggle playground. And more being pelted with bludgers, it appeared. What is wrong with these muggles? He relaxed the amount of force he was applying and was pleased to find himself being pushed back into attics. Granted he was able to get back to the memory again fairly quickly, but at least the boy was thinking. He pulled back as one of the would-be bludgers struck him in the face. “Better. Keep concentrating on the attics. No matter what else is going on, they should be your primary focus.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Legilimens.” Attic, attic, att—ah, attic. Well done. He pushed a bit farther and found himself still at Hogwarts, Harry apparently writing lines. Except that his hand hurt, and—Severus pulled out immediately. “What was that?”

“Professor?”

“I will not tell lies?” He glared impatiently. “Where did you get it, and when?”

“I….”

“Harry, that was a blood quill.” He’d never actually seen one in action, but he certainly recognized what it was. “Those have been considered dark devices since before I was a student. Now where did you get it?”

He ducked his head. “I…it was Umbridge. She said that Volde—You-Know-Who— coming back wasn’t true the first day of class, and I called her a liar. She gave me that to write lines with, and….” He shrugged.

And it didn’t occur to you to mention this to anyone?! Severus put down his wand and held out his hand. “Let me see.”

“It’s not that bad. Hermione found some stuff for me to use on it.”

“Hm.” There was scarring, but not too extensive. “Essence of Murtlap?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” He gulped slightly when Severus glared at him but didn’t back down.

“To see the headmaster.”

“It’s really not that ba—”

“A professor at this school used a dark device on a student. I can assure you, it really is that bad.” If it had happened to one of his little friends the boy would no doubt be having fits, but as far as Severus could tell he had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Something else to lay at the feet of those muggles, I suspect. “Now, if you would?”

“Can I get my memories back, first? The ones in the Pensieve?”

It sounded like stalling to him, but Severus gave a quick nod. “Better in your head than my sitting room, I suppose.” Besides, it won’t take more than a moment. The walk from the dungeons up to the headmaster’s study took longer than normal, but Severus couldn’t quite blame Harry. Well, he could, but he simply wasn’t about to move quite as fast as he had been before he’d been hurt, either. Still, he would heal in time, and that was hardly his primary concern at the moment. The gargoyle swung aside obligingly at his snapped password—‘ice mice,’ yet another candy that Severus simply detested.

“Severus?” Albus asked, looking rather surprised at the interruption. “Harry? Is something wrong?”

“I would certainly say so,” Severus agreed.

Alastor was with him, and judging by a scrap of parchment that disappeared from his desk as they approached they’d also gotten some sort of message from Podmore. Alastor dipped his head sharply at Severus’ words. “I’ll be going, then.”

“I suspect you’ll want to hear this.”

His good eye narrowed, while the magic one began to scan a bit faster.

“Harry?” Severus prompted.

“It’s….” He glanced up at Severus and then dropped his head with a shrug. “I got detention with Umbridge before and she made me write lines.”

Albus frowned. “I’m not sure what….”

Do you actually think I’m going to let you get away with that? “Through less-than-creative editing, he’s managed to leave out the part of the sentence when he mentions that the lines were done with a blood quill,” Severus snapped when it became obvious that Harry didn’t plan to. “One she gave to him.”

“She did what?” Alastor snarled at the same time Albus expressed his dismay. “Are you certain?”

“Miss Granger proved to be her usual annoyingly resourceful self, but aside from seeing the memory myself the scars are there as well.”

“Harry, may I…?” Albus held out a hand, and the boy moved to stand in front of him.

“It’s not really that bad.”

“It most certainly is,” Albus insisted. “If you two wouldn’t mind, I’d like to talk to Harry alone.”

“Thursday, same time,” Severus directed.

Harry nodded slightly, and he turned to follow Alastor out the door. “How long have you known?” the ex-Auror demanded as the gargoyle swung shut.

“A week and a half, I just thought tonight would be an excellent time to bring it up.” He kept his expression carefully even.

“Did I, or did I not, suggest that baiting me while you are in less than top form is not a particularly wise idea?”

Severus privately had his doubts that baiting the ex-Auror even when in top form would be particularly good for his health, but when it came right down to it he’d lived most of his life taking chances. “I found out tonight during his detention.” Alastor already knew about the Occlumency lessons and was quite capable of connecting the dots. “I am many things, but condoning something of that nature violates even my principles.”

Alastor snorted. “Good to know you have them, I suppose. Watch your back; I didn’t like how a couple of those students were looking at you at dinner tonight.”

Neither did I. At least he refrained from shouting ‘constant vigilance.’ “I am.”