Severus glared at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. It didn’t look any more inviting through a snake’s eye than it did through a wizard’s.

“I suppose we should be going.”

He felt Minerva’s words as much as heard them—an odd sort of vibration where he thought that his ears should be—and then he felt his bones begin to twist and shift. Despite what it sounded like, it wasn’t actually painful, and a moment later he stood as a human beside her. “I would just like to point out that this is an asinine idea.” Made even more idiotic by the fact that she was going to have to transfigure him into a snake at least once more this evening in order to enter those hidden rooms. He had no idea what he’d been thinking when he agreed.

“I believe you mentioned something of that sort before. Now, would you like to go first, or shall I?”

He shook his head and stepped forward. “I suggest that you levitate the brooms down after me and then come yourself.” Not that he particularly wanted to go first, but if the landing was bad, her landing on him would do far less damage than the reverse. Besides which, he was younger and with marginally better reflexes, which meant he was the logical choice to go first if something unpleasant was waiting for them down there. He sighed and stepped through the entrance. And began to fall. I detest logic.

Somehow he’d forgotten about the pile of bones at the end of the tunnel, and he picked himself up and dusted himself off quickly before flicking his wand to summon a light.

Two brooms followed shortly after, and then Minerva joined him. In cat form, surprisingly, but then she had been down here before, and to be fair her landing was better than his had been.

“Well, that was refreshing,” she said, releasing her Animagus form and sounding far too pleased for his tastes.

I wonder, if I could convince her to become a cat while I was a snake…. Of course, eating her would mean that he would be left in snake form for the foreseeable future, but under the circumstances he thought that that would be an acceptable compromise. “Shall we go?”

They reached the Chamber on short order, and the cavern looked just as forbidding as it had before, even lit only by the faint glow from the walls and the light from their wands. Minerva was right about the thing being far too elaborate to be simply a basilisk den. He just hoped that he was right and that most of the decoration had been put in simply because Salazar had had far too much time on his hands rather than for a more sinister reason. Whatever that might be; I don’t see interior decorating as a requirement for evil plots.

“I have no idea what he was thinking,” Minerva said, glaring at the form of the basilisk as they made their way down the walkway.

The man kept a basilisk for a pet; I’m not sure I care to spend much time thinking about it. He was opening his mouth to point that out when she continued.

“Honestly, at twelve years old!”

Oh. Harry. “I expect that it was more desperation than thought. Unless of course you’re talking about him coming down here in the first place, in which case I have no idea.” Severus approached the basilisk and pulled the collecting jars out of his robes, kneeling to cut himself a skin sample before drawing a vial of blood. He wouldn’t be able to shrink the jars again, not without risking damage to the samples, but he could leave them here and collect them on his way out.

Minerva smirked. “Oh, now I see why you agreed to accompany me. Shall I get comfortable, or will this only take a moment?”

“As long as I’m being used as a rather absurd sort of key, I fully expect to get something out of the deal,” he said firmly. He frowned at the snake carcass for a moment and then reached up and cut out a portion of one eye. It was badly mutilated—Fawkes’ work, if he remembered correctly—but given what newt eyes could do to a potion he was more than willing to overlook appearances. He lingered over the remains a bit longer, more because he found Minerva’s increasing impatience amusing than because there was anything else he wanted a sample of, and then set the jars aside and nodded to the opening in the wall. “Shall we go?”

She sniffed something that might—might—have been interpreted as ‘finally’ and then flicked her wand again to increase the amount of light it was emitting and began to climb towards the entrance.

Severus followed as she took the right hand fork, and the two of them found themselves once again in front of the room that Harry had found. The door was shut; the only reason it was at all visible was because when it had been opened before the action had torn apart the layer of moss that had grown on the rock and it remained clear enough to see the outline.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at him, and he put his wand safely in his pocket and then held still as she flicked her wand in the complicated pattern that ended with him becoming a snake. Just imagine what we could do as sideshow entertainers.

When the transfiguration was complete, he twisted and raised the upper portion of his body up to examine the door. As a snake, his eye didn’t seem to be capable of distinguishing the outline from the rest of the wall—at a guess, there wasn’t enough contrast—but as long as he had a direction to aim his words that shouldn’t make a great deal of difference. “Open up.” It had worked on the entrance, after all.

He was human again a moment later, and the two of them moved to examine the small room. There were no more papers—they’d all been removed on the last visit and were presumably still locked up somewhere in the library—but Minerva spent some time examining the few pieces of slowly-crumbling furniture that remained before shifting her attention to the walls, while Severus scanned both the floor and ceiling. He had a moment’s thought that perhaps she should have left him in snake form and he could have gone around hissing at things just to see if any sort of secret passages existed, but given that she’d probably have done it, he decided not to bring it up. If they didn’t find anything on this trip, he could always suggest it later. When someone else is being used as a key.

“There was at least one room down the other fork,” Severus said when Minerva ceased her examination. “I suggest we try that next.” Otherwise he would just be slithering down the hall hissing and hoping that something would open. And that no rocks would fall on him. Alastor had been the one to identify the room down the other fork—he’d been able to see that the stone wasn’t solid—and Severus wondered idly if he’d be able to get an eye with the same properties. Except, of course, in a slightly less hideous form. If he wasn’t, they’d probably have to bring Alastor down again, in which case Minerva was definitely getting someone else to act as the key. Although perhaps a poisonous snake….

He shook his head, dismissing the matter of eyes that could see through walls for the time being. He’d gotten a tentative reply from a second prospective supplier, but as of yet he hadn’t committed to either. The Easter holiday had seemed like the best opportunity to get the work done, given that there was going to be recovery time involved—unless, of course, he wanted to wait until summer—but if he was going to be drafted for Order business down here in the Chamber it might well be summer before he had the opportunity. He frowned. It wasn’t ideal, but if it was necessary then it was necessary. He simply couldn’t afford to take another week off teaching without a competent substitute available, not if he wanted his students to achieve OWL and NEWT scores that didn’t make him look like a complete dunderhead.

“All right; I don’t want to go too much father back in the tunnels on this trip anyway,” Minerva agreed. She dusted off her robes—to absolutely no effect, given their surroundings—and then preceded him out of the room.

Finding the second room was as much trial and error as anything…he was able to gauge the approximate distance based upon how far down the right-hand fork the other room had been, but the little moss he had scraped off on their last visit to reveal the image of a snake had long since regrown. He was reduced to hissing threateningly the walls at random and hoping that something opened before Minerva noticed his uncertainly. From her smirk as a panel swung open and he was returned to his normal form, he hadn’t entirely fooled her.

“Well, that’s an improvement,” she said as she stepped into the room. Severus followed behind her as she flicked her wand, and a lamp sitting on one of the tables flared obligingly to life.

Why in Merlin’s name didn’t it occur to one of us to bring one? I wonder, is whatever nonsense has been floating around in Harry’s head lately catching? He shook his head and moved past her as she leaned over to examine a stack of papers lying neatly beside the lamp.

It was cleaner in here than it had been in the other room as well, he noted. There was still dust—a great deal of dust, in fact—but this room didn’t have the signs of the centuries of disuse that the other room had clearly been a victim of. Aside from the lamp, there was more furniture, all of it in much better condition than that in the first room. Minerva was occupied with the tables on either side of the entrance, and he moved to examine a desk on the far wall, decorated with the sort of inlaid patterns that had been fashionable half a century ago. Nothing rested on top of it, and when a few basic diagnostics didn’t reveal anything immediately dangerous, he began sorting through the drawers. Half a dozen quills, nearly reduced to dust, an inkwell whose contents had long since dried, a few blank scrolls…. The bottom drawer on the right appeared to be stuck, but when he gave it a hard tug he heard wood splinter and realized that there had been some sort of latch on it. “Ah, Minerva?”

“Hm?” Her attention was clearly focused on the papers in front of her.

“You’re more knowledgeable about history than I am, so tell me, was Slytherin the tiara sort?”

“Tiara?” She put the papers back down on the desktop and moved to stand beside him. “That’s…interesting.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Severus frowned down at a thin circlet in lying in the bottom of the drawer, on top of a scrap of cloth. “Don’t touch it!” He glared at her as she reached downwards. Gryffindors! Honestly!

She pulled her hand back but seemed more amused than anything. “Calm down, Severus. It’s in a hidden chamber under Hogwarts that was guarded by an ancient basilisk. Do you really think Slytherin—or Riddle—would have bothered to add hexes as well? I think you’ve been spending too much time with Alastor.”

His mouth opened and shut as debated several possible replies to that—all of which involved vehement denial and most of which included grievous bodily harm as well—and then drew himself up stiffly. “Given who we may be speaking of,” and if the Dark Lord hadn’t left that thing here then he would eat his best cauldron, “I don’t care to speculate.” Loose pieces of parchment were one thing; it didn’t make a great deal of sense to booby trap objects that something as simple as a stray wind could disturb. Which wouldn’t necessarily preclude the Dark Lord doing just that, but even he was unlikely to put anything too harmful on them. An apparently valuable object sitting in a latched desk drawer, on the other hand? If Severus wanted to keep something like that safe, the first thing he’d do would be put a couple curses on it, regardless of what other protections the room might possess. Frankly, he was lucky that the drawer itself hadn’t been spelled. “Why a tiara?”

“It’s a diadem, actually,” Minerva corrected, leaning over to examine it more closely, although at least she didn’t reach for it again. “They became popular in Roman times, as I recall, and men wore them at least as often as women.”

“Fascinating.”

She knew him more than well enough to read the exact opposite in his tone, and she glared at him. “Actually, I think this might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Rowena, that is.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing that Rowena Ravenclaw spent much of her time in a basilisk den.”

From her deepening glare, there was no doubt that she felt he was being deliberately obtuse. Which, to be fair, he was, but…. “I never said that she put it here, I said that I think it might have belonged to her at one point. Each of the founders had a focus object of some form, most of which have been lost over the years.” She shook her head. “I’d have to do some research to tell you exactly when, but Irma probably knows.”

“I daresay I could venture a few guesses of my own.” Say, as a general estimate, any time from Tom Riddle’s eleventh birthday onwards. He frowned, drumming his fingers against the desktop lightly. “What about those papers you found? Was there anything interesting there?”

“A NEWT schedule—no year—and some notes on Charms and Ancient Runes. It looks like someone was revising down here.”

Three guesses as to who that was. Severus shook his head. “Do you have any suggestions for how we might get it out of here? Without touching it?” Someone was bound to notice if they tried to levitate it to Albus office—assuming any spells on it didn’t react very, very badly with the addition of another—and he had a sneaking suspicion that wrapping it in his cloak wouldn’t protect them from it. If they knew what spells were on it, they could find the appropriate countercurses, but….

“Actually I would suggest that we leave it here.”

“Excuse me?!” Was she being deliberately obtuse? “Even if it isn’t a Horcrux—and if you aren’t harboring the same suspicions that I am, you ought to visit Poppy on suspicion of a possible head injury as soon as we get back to Hogwarts proper—you think that just leaving it lying here is a good idea?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not? You and I are currently the only ones who know about it, and the only other person in the school who can access the Chamber is spending most if not all of his free time in detention. I’m certainly not suggesting that we leave it here permanently, but I can’t see that another few days are going to do it any harm.”

Severus frowned but couldn’t deny her logic. As much as the idea of just leaving it sitting down here bothered him.

“I’m not as certain as you seem to be that it’s cursed, but surely between you, Albus, Alastor, and myself, we can cancel any spell on it,” Minerva continued. “We could easily bring in Shaklebolt or Tonks as well.”

Nymphadora Tonks in the Chamber of Secrets. Severus had a sudden vision of the pillars crashing inwards and all of them being crushed by the weight of the stone. “I would think that the four of us already at Hogwarts will be sufficient.” And given Harry’s ridiculous penchant for being in just the wrong place at just the wrong time, he thought that he would make it clear that staying out of the Chamber in the near future was an order as opposed to simply a wise idea.

* * * * *

“Mr. Potter, would you kindly pay attention?!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I am!”

“Well, you could certainly have fooled me!” Severus gritted his teeth and flattened his hands against the floor, forcing himself to lower his tone. “Perhaps it has escaped your notice, but you have yet to shield your mind from me for more than two minutes this evening. I can assure you, the Dark Lord will not be impressed.”

“It’s not like I’ve had any more dreams,” Harry returned. “Not since the Department of Mysteries.”

Severus sneered. “And so you’ve decided that the Dark Lord has just given up, and therefore you don’t have to practice any more? Typical Gryffindor arro—”

“I never said that!” Harry interrupted.

“Well, perhaps you’re thinking it. Shall I check? Judging by your progress this evening, it certainly won’t take more than a minute.”

Harry gave him a decidedly sullen glare, and Severus decided that there had been enough Occlumency work done this night. He had another topic that he needed to speak to Harry about anyway, and perhaps the knowledge of that would convince the little idiot to focus.

They had yet to get around to removing the diadem from the Chamber of Secrets—as much as Alastor might irritate him on occasion, he couldn’t deny that he’d appreciated the ex-Auror’s immediate seconding of his insistence that the thing needed to be fully tested for curses before anyone attempted to touch it—but its knowledge of its existence had been nagging at the back of his mind for the past four days, and this was as good a time to discuss Horcruxes with Harry as any other.

He pushed himself to his feet abruptly, and Harry gave him a slightly alarmed look. “Professor?”

“Come along.”

“Where are we going?”

“To sit at the table and have a proper conversation.” He sat down and gestured sharply at the seat opposite his before summoning the house elves for tea.

“A proper conversation about what?” Harry’s tone was wary, but he did as he was told and sank down in the chair. “Professor?”

“You’ll recall Riddle’s diary in your second year?”

Whatever the brat had been expecting, that clearly wasn’t it, but he recovered from his confusion after a moment and nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“Do you understand that the influence that the diary was able to exert came from a portion of the Dark Lord’s soul that was contained inside it? A portion extracted when he was a student here?”

“His soul?” Harry frowned and then shrugged slightly. “I guess I never thought of it like that. I mean, I knew that part of him was in there—or at least I did when I stabbed it—but….” He shrugged again. “It’s gone now, though, isn’t it?”

“The soul fragment that was contained in the diary, certainly,” Severus said after a moment.

“The soul fragment that—there are more?” Harry demanded. “More diaries or…?”

“Not diaries, specifically. There were several different objects selected, most of which I believe had some sort of sentimental value to the Dark Lord.” As much as the creature had sentiments, anyway. He didn’t see any advantage in telling Harry exactly what the other suspected objects were at this point. With luck the Order would be able to locate them on short order, and even if they didn’t—and to be honest, it wasn’t as though they’d had a great deal of luck in the past—he didn’t particularly want the little idiot out searching for the things himself. And given his history, Severus had very few doubts that he’d do just that. The tea arrived, and he poured them each a cup.

Harry took his with a frown. “How did he get pieces of his soul into objects? And how do you get a piece of a soul, anyway? I mean, I can see how it would be possible for someone to lose an ar—” his eyes flicked guiltily at Severus’ clamp and he amended his statement—“a limb, but you can’t just go around cutting up a soul, can you?” His frown deepened. “Or is it like the Dementors, except the objects only suck out part a person’s soul rather than the whole thing?”

“I’m not all that familiar with the actual process myself, but the creation of a Horcrux—specifically the part that involves the splitting of a soul—is one of the darkest spells known since it requires the taking of a life.” He pursed his lips. “And it seems the Dark Lord utilized it rather more extensively than any of us realized in his quest for immortality.”

“A Horcrux, you called it?” Harry stared into his tea for a moment. “You know, Professor Moody mentioned those in class a couple days ago. It was kind of random; we’d been talking about vampires the day before, and we were supposed to have a quiz, but then when we got to class he just glared at all of us and then started talking about Horcruxes instead. It didn’t make a lot of sense, probably because he didn’t actually say all that much about them. Mostly just that they were really bad and we shouldn’t even think about them.” He shrugged slightly. “It was kind of odd; most of the time he gives too much information about everything, and it’s hard to keep it all straight.”

Severus bit back a groan. Oh, brilliant, Alastor. Telling a bunch of teenagers that they shouldn’t do something without any reason why. Why didn’t you just dare them all to try? He shook his head. The least you could have done was tell them that they’d break out in spots for all eternity.

“Hermione tried to look them up in the library the next day, just in case there were any questions about them on the Defense OWL, but she couldn’t find anything either,” Harry added after a moment. “Is there anything in any of your books? She’s kind of worried about it.”

Well, that’s good news at least—obnoxiously competent as Granger is, if she couldn’t find anything it’s unlikely in the extreme that any of the other students will. Unless, of course, they managed to get into one or two of the books in the restricted section, and the most likely culprit for that particular offense was sitting in front of him. He shook his head. “There is not, and you may assure Miss Grangers that Horcruxes will not be appearing on any OWL in the near future. I’m afraid that that lecture was simply a case of Professor Moody being…himself.” An unfortunate affliction. He frowned. “Nor, should she ask, will they be on your NEWTs.” Knowing the Granger girl, she probably would.

Apparently Harry had thought so as well, because he relaxed slightly. “Thanks, Professor. She’ll feel better hearing that.”

“I live to serve.”

Harry started to snicker.

With another shake of his head, Severus temporarily dismissed the idiocy of both the current Defense professor and the vast majority of the Hogwarts student population—although he made a mental note to check the library wards in the next day or two and suggest to Albus that he move a few books to his study for safekeeping, just in case—and tried to figure out how best to broach the suspicion of the Dark Lord’s accidental Horcrux creation.

“Professor, is something wrong?” Harry asked as silence stretched out between them.

Severus frowned into his tea, taking a long sip of tea to give himself a few more moments to think. When the Occlumency lesson hadn’t progressed, he’d made a split-second decision to tell Harry about what he was and see if that was enough to motivate him. Except that now, looking at him, he once again found himself at a loss for words. Discussing Horcruxes abstractly, as objects that could simply be destroyed, was one thing. Although I suppose ‘simply’ is a somewhat relative term, but that’s hardly the point. Discussing how a madman had embedded a soul fragment in a helpless child, powered by the death of said child’s mother…that was another. It wasn’t something that could be simply blurted out—even someone as socially inept as himself knew that—but he had absolutely no idea how to approach it.

“Professor?” Harry asked again, as Severus long sip drew out to the point where he had to lower his teacup or risk choking.

“In general, Horcrux creation is a deliberate act,” Severus began slowly. “From the information that we have obtained, the Dark Lord intended to create a very specific number of soul fragments. However, we believe there was an…accident.”

Harry frowned. “Well, that could be a good thing, right? I mean, if the bad guy did something wrong….”

“A rather simplistic view of things. If the Dark Lord destroys this village rather than that village, it may be an accident on his part, but do you think anyone on our side will be happy about it?” He shook his head. Gryffindors. The next thing you know, he’ll be insisting that ‘my enemy’s enemy is my friend’ is actually true.

Harry frowned and then nodded slightly in understanding.

“In this case, no, the accident was not a good thing. During one of his attacks, he created an extra Horcrux that he never intended to. One that—at least at the moment—we believe that he isn’t even aware of.”

“But you are. So…what? Does that mean you can use it against him somehow?” He frowned. “And why are you telling me? Nobody ever tells me anything.”

Severus glared. “As I recall, you’ve been told several times to concentrate on your schoolwork and leave fighting a war to those of use who are already grown and trained. Your absolutely abysmal listening skills are hardly our fault.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Except now you’re telling me this, and it’s kind of weird.” He shook his head and reached for his teacup, only to stop suddenly. “It’s…you said someone has to be killed to create a Horcrux, right? And that it happened during one of his attacks?”

“That is correct.” Severus tried to keep his voice steady as he saw Harry’s mind working. It wasn’t that he wanted Harry to figure it out for himself, but it was obvious enough that if Harry did, then he wouldn’t actually have to come out and say it. And maybe that would be the best option for all concerned, because Merlin knew that he had less of an idea of how to soften and emotional blow than he had of how to knit one of those absurd sweaters that Harry and Weasley lot were always wearing.

Harry blinked, his attention obviously elsewhere. “Can people be Horcruxes, or do they have to be things?” His voice was even, but it had an edge of pleading to it, and his face was rapidly losing color.

“A living being can be a Horcrux,” Severus confirmed after a moment.

“Then you’re telling me because it’s me, aren’t you?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “I’m the other Horcrux. From when he killed my mum and dad.” His voice dropped to just above a whisper, and it was obvious that he wasn’t really speaking to Severus anymore. “That’s why he can reach my mind even though he can’t reach anyone else’s—there’s part of him in me.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, and then green eyes rose to lock on Severus’ dark one, and Severus decided that he really was a coward. He should have just come out and said it himself—it would have been a shock, certainly, but it couldn’t have been as bad as the dawning realization that there was a Dark Lord soul fragment embedded in oneself. And due to the death of one’s mother, even better. He set the teacup he hadn’t realized that he was still holding down on the saucer in front of him, the clatter sounding absurdly loud in the silence, and rubbed his forehead. Perhaps Albus had been right, in this particular instance, in his insistence that Harry not be given details about what was occurring.

The absurdity of that thought was enough to draw him out of his uncertainty, and he shook his head sharply. Albus might be keeping quiet now, but Severus had absolutely no doubt that he would have brought the matter up himself at some point. And knowing Albus, it would have the most inopportune time possible, when a dozen other things were going wrong and there was no one available to help the fallout. Perhaps he hadn’t been as…sensitive…as he should have been, but he didn’t think that he had been wrong either. Although I certainly wish that there was someone else—anyone else—here, someone better capable of dealing with emotions and that sort of thing. Perhaps one of those mindhealers that Poppy insists upon forcing on me? But it was too late to call for one now, even if he was certain that one of them could be trusted, so he remained where he was and waited.

Harry licked his lips, his eyes dropping to his teacup, tracing the pattern on it absently with one finger. “Is there some way to destroy it? Or at least get it out of me? Or…?”

“Or what?” At least those were practical questions, rather than the breakdown that Severus greatly feared was coming. Practical questions he could handle.

“Are you going to have to kill me?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone, and Severus’ eye narrowed.

“Absolutely not! What kind of an absurd question is that?”

“The one with the power to defeat him…,” Harry began to recite. “What if destroying that soul fragment is what it takes to kill him? Killing me, like I destroyed the diary, would do it, wouldn’t it?”

“Idiot,” Severus snapped, with more force than was strictly necessary. “As the debacle with the diary should have shown you, destroying a Horcrux does not destroy the creator. Are we going to destroy the other Horcruxes—the inanimate ones—when we find them? If at all possible, yes. Are we going to do our best to destroy the Dark Lord himself? Certainly. Are we going to act like lunatics and run around sacrificing children for no purpose whatsoever? I think not.”

“But if part of him is in me, what if I become like him?” Harry pressed. “Or if the Horcrux takes over me and makes me do things, like the diary made Ginny open the Chamber?”

“As to the first, the fact that you are worrying about it is a very good indication that you’ll fight to keep it from happening, I would say. Nor, I suspect, would your little friends be inclined to let you travel down that road. And as to the second, you and I are going to continue to work on your Occlumency until the barrier in your mind is strong enough to keep the Dark Lord from affecting you in any way.”

“But with Ginny—”

“Miss Weasley was a helpless eleven year old with no idea of what was happening to her. You are neither eleven nor helpless, and we are all forewarned.” He drummed his fingers on the table lightly. “And I’d thank you to note that there was no talk of sacrificing her before, during, or after the mess with the diary.”

“That’s different,” Harry muttered. “Nobody even knew what was happening at first, and anyway, it wasn’t in her.”

“As foolhardy as I find most of your past escapades at Hogwarts, even I must admit that you have faced shades of the Dark Lord and won,” Severus said firmly. “I told you this—” or at least gave you enough information for him to deduce it for himself, as much as he now regretted that course of action—“to inform you of a potential threat. I was not in any way suggesting that you simply give up. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Professor.”

Harry’s tone was dull, and Severus pushed himself to his feet and dismissed the tea set with a flick of his wand. “I realize that this comes as a shock. Perhaps you would like go back to your room and lie down? We can speak again later, after you’ve had some time to think.”

He looked at the door for a minute, and then ducked his head slightly. “Yeah, I guess that would be good.”

“Harry?” Severus asked cautiously as the boy made no move to stand. Was he going to break down now? He’d seemed fairly rational after the initial shock, which was when Severus had more than half expected a rage—or, worse, tears—and very probably a strong bout of accidental magic, but aside from a pallor that brought his skin tone closer to Severus’ than his own typical appearance, he seemed to be all right. Of course, outward appearance was hardly a definite indicator of mental state…Severus was more than half-tempted to try a cautious Legilimancy probe, and regulations be damned, but Harry’s eyes remained locked on the tabletop.

“Could I maybe stay here?” Harry finally asked, his voice rushed. “Just tonight, I mean. I won’t bother you or anything, I promise, but I don’t really want….” Desperate eyes flicked up to look at Severus. “I don’t really want to talk to Ron or Hermione right now, and if I go back all upset they’ll make me. I know they will. Please?”

There was an edge of panic in his voice, and Severus decided that sending him out into the corridors in that state was hardly a wise idea. And the bed in the spare room was still made up. “I suppose that that would be acceptable.” He frowned slightly. “Although I suggest that you send some sort of note to your friends, because if any of them show up at some ridiculous hour of the night to ‘rescue’ you, I will not be responsible for my actions.”