Hermione came to Prince Hall the next morning, bearing gifts for Harry, Ron, and even a potions book for Severus which she handed to him rather shyly.  Harry presented her with a book of historical fiction by her favorite author, while Ron gave a scroll of rose-scented parchment and a pretty necklace of gold and topaz beads.  Severus gave her a school bag, identical to the ones he had given to Ron and Ginny.

He left them alone for a few minutes after the gift exchange, saying that he needed to put a stasis spell on an elixir he was brewing.

"We will take a portkey to Boscastle in a few minutes so be ready to leave," Severus advised as he swept out of the library.

Harry took a deep breath and turned to look out one of the windows, staring at the barren gardens with unseeing eyes.  He was excited about going to the match, and he wanted to go.  He had looked forward to it for weeks now.  But it was the first time he was venturing out in public since people had learned that he was under the slavery spell and now that the moment was at hand, he was worried about it.  Yes, his classmates at Hogwarts had been supportive, but they had known him for years and he was friends with many of them.   

Facing complete strangers was another matter entirely.  For a moment Harry considered telling his father that he wanted some polyjuice potion after all.

"Harry?  It'll be all right."  Hermione's soft voice broke through his thoughts.

He turned to see that she and Ron had stepped close.  They both watched him with eyes that were warm and concerned.  Hermione reached to take his hand and give it a squeeze. 

They really did know him as well as he knew himself, Harry reflected.

"Everyone's going to stare and talk," he mumbled.

"Nah, mate.  People will be too excited about the match to pay you any mind," Ron tried to reassure him.

If only that were true, Harry reflected wryly.  He shot Ron a disbelieving frown.

"Well, maybe they'll stare and talk a bit, when they first see you," Ron admitted.  "But once the match gets going, everyone'll be busy watching it."

"And we'll be there with you...your father, too," Hermione added.  "We won't let anyone bother you."

"Especially your dad," Ron put in.  "No one will dare come close with him to glare at them."

"Quite true."  Severus had slipped back into the library and re-joined them.   "It will give me a chance to practice my intimidating stance before school re-opens."

"Um, sorry, sir," Ron hastily apologized.

Severus' lips quirked as he nodded and then turned his attention to his son, speaking gently.  "Harry, your friends are right.  Everything will be fine. "    

Harry wasn't so sure.  He hoped his father and friends were right, but his stomach was still tied in knots.  He really did wish he had insisted on taking polyjuice, but it was too late now.  And he didn't want to act the coward anymore. 

He resolutely pushed back his sleeve, revealing the silver gryphon and snake bracelet that Draco had given him.

"Oh, Harry, that's beautiful!"  Hermione exclaimed.

Momentarily distracted from his fears, Harry smiled.  "Thanks.  It is, isn't it?  Draco gave it to me for Christmas.  But it's not just a bracelet.  It's a portkey."

"Wicked," Ron breathed in admiration.

"Draco said he wanted to give me something to keep me safe, since I always seem to attract danger," Harry told him.

"I already said I knew he had changed," Ron replied.

At the same time, Severus said firmly, "Your days of attracting danger are over, Mr. Potter.  Now, why don't you activate the portkey and we'll be on our way?"

He laid his hand on Harry's shoulder, speaking to the other two teens as he did so.  "Ron, take Hermione's hand.  Hermione, place your other hand on my arm.  Everyone, keep a firm grip. "

Harry started to tap the bracelet with his wand when he paused and glanced at Severus uncertainly.  His father had already told him what to do and Harry didn't doubt him, not really...but Draco had said for Harry to think of a place he wished to be and Harry had never been to Boscastle, or anywhere in Cornwall before.  He hoped just thinking of the address would be enough.

"Just think of ‘the north field by River Troll Lane', " Severus assured him.  "If you think clearly, the portkey will work fine."

"Did you say Troll?"  Hermione asked uneasily.  She had had a fear of trolls ever since her narrow escape in first year.

"There is nothing to worry about.  There has not been a troll sighting in that area for over a hundred years," Severus remarked.

Hermione looked relieved.  "Oh, that's good."

Harry touched his wand to the bracelet and concentrated as hard as he could.  He felt a jerk, as if a hook had grabbed him behind the naval and then everything swirled about, faster and faster,  colours blending into a wild kaleidoscope. 

Just as Harry thought he might be ill, they landed in a rocky field near a cobbled lane.  Overhead, the winter sun shone in a pale blue sky.  It was a little warmer here than in Yorkshire, or would have been if not for the brisk breeze that whipped by.  The lane led to a village a short distance away, a cluster of stone buildings and whitewashed cottages with thatched roofs.

"So this is Boscastle?"  Ron asked, looking around eagerly.

"Oh, I'm glad we came early," Hermione said happily.  "Can we see the Museum of Witchcraft?"

"If you'd like," Severus answered.  "But that's in the Muggle section of town, Hermione, and it doesn't contain any artefacts having to do with the true wizarding world.  You might be more interested in the Magical Creatures exhibit.  There's a particularly fine section on sea monsters."

A nearby ‘pop' sounded and they all spun around to see a family appear, parents with a boy and girl who, though of school age, seemed too young for Hogwarts.  Apparently they had used a portkey as well, for they were all clutching a metal pail which the father quickly shrunk and slipped into his pocket.  The children were chattering about Quidditch and the parents looked cheerful, but harried as they shepherded their little group down the lane.  The children waved as they passed by.

Harry, Severus, Ron and Hermione glanced at one another, the teens grinning ruefully as they realised that they had all surreptitiously fingered their wands.

"Old habits die hard, huh?"  Ron murmured.

Severus gave them a serious look.  "Being prepared is a good habit to have.  However, this field is a common spot for portkeying and apparition.  I imagine people will be arriving all morning long."

The four of them set off towards town and in a short time they were meandering along crooked, hilly streets between houses and shops.  It reminded Harry a bit of Hogsmeade, with cafes and taverns, an apothecary, a bookstore, and a post office.  And Quidditch shops.  There were quite a few Quidditch shops, selling everything from broomsticks and supplies to hats and clothing items.  Harry supposed that made sense as the national team was based nearby.  Ron had already pointed out the silver stadium that could be seen in the distance over the rooftops.   

Of course they stopped in several shops.  Severus needed some ingredients from the apothecary, Hermione wanted to browse through the bookstore, and Harry and Ron bought red and white jerseys bearing the English team's logo.

"Remember there will be vendors at the stadium, too.  Don't spend all your pocket money at once," Severus told them.

One of the most interesting sights was the museum that Severus had mentioned, the Boscastle Exhibit of Magical Creatures.  It was housed in one of the tallest buildings, a three-story stone house and must have been under expansion charms which made it much larger on the inside.  It contained both live and artificial exhibits of all types of animals, aquariums of flying fish and miniature hippocampi, fosslised remains of a leviathan, and a nursery where workers tended to an orphaned baby sea serpent.

"It's huge," Ron remarked as they watched the shimmering green creature glide through the water.

"Actually, it's still quite small for a sea serpent," the docent, a young woman in colourful robes, explained.  "We're caring for it here now but when it grows a bit bigger, we'll have to set up an outside pen on the coast.  Of course our goal is to eventually release it back into the ocean once we feel it has a good chance of survival."

"Hagrid would love this, wouldn't he?"  Hermione commented.

Harry felt a sharp guilty pang at the mention of Hagrid's name.  He hadn't thought of the groundskeeper in a long time.  He and his friends had not had much contact with Hagrid this past fall.  He had been upset when none of them had signed up for his NEWT class and then he had disappeared from Hogwarts before the news of the slavery spell had broken, taking care of some family business, Dumbledore had said.  Harry suddenly felt terrible that he had not tried harder to patch things up with Hagrid sooner.

"I guess he's still not back at school," he remarked, feeling certain that one of his friends would have mentioned it if Hagrid had returned.

"Oh, no, he' s not, but I did mean to tell you that I asked Dumbledore about him before the holidays and he said that Hagrid was fine and would probably be back this term," Hermione answered.

"This term's going to be a real reunion, isn't it?"  Ron asked.  "With Harry and Professor Snape and Hagrid all back."

"I hope he's not still angry with us," Harry fretted.

"We'll just have to make him talk with us and work things out," Hermione said firmly.

At the same time Severus asked, "And why would Hagrid be angry with any of you?"

"I think he was hurt that we're not taking any classes anymore," Harry explained.

Severus frowned.  "None of you are seeking a career with magical creatures and the class simply did not fit into your schedule.   Any reasonable instructor would understand that.  Perhaps I should speak with him."

As much as he adored his father and knew how much he had changed, Harry had to admit that it was a bit funny to think of Severus preaching to someone about being a reasonable instructor.  From the gleam in Ron's eyes, Harry knew the irony had struck him too.

"No, that's all right, Dad.  We'll work it out," he hastily assured his father.

After leaving the museum they walked down the street and crossed a stone bridge over a muddy creek to a white-washed cottage with a thatched roof and a painted sign, reading "The Green Kelpie", hanging over the door.

"I've heard that this cafe is a good place to eat," Severus told them.

Inside the light was dim and the brick floor was worn unevenly from long use.  They seated themselves at one of the round wooden tables scattered about the room and a few minutes later a waitress came to take their order.  They had fish and chips, and Severus had been right.  The food was delicious.

There had not been many people about in the morning, and those that they had met had seemed intent on their own business, but now, as the time for the Quidditch match approached, more people were arriving and apparently quite a few of them had also planned to dine at the Green Kelpie. 

More and more visitors crowded in as Harry and his companions were eating, and he supposed it was inevitable that someone would recognize him.  He could tell when they did because there was a sudden hush, and then an excited burble of chatter.  He could feel eyes staring at him and hunched down in his seat, wishing he could sink through the floor and disappear.

"It'll be all right, Harry," Hermione said softly.  "Just keep eating and ignore them."

Severus glared fiercely at the crowds and for a time that seemed to keep people at bay, but then a small group of young adults braved the potions master's scowl and approached.

"Harry Potter?  You are Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"My son is..." Severus began in a tone so cold that it could have frozen flames.

A young man, who either was exceptionally brave or exceptionally obtuse, or both, interrupted, "My friends and I...well, we just wanted to thank you for getting rid of You Know Who, and we wanted to say...well, that we're sorry about all of that other stuff and it's really good to see you."

Harry looked up at the man and his friends.  They were smiling but not in a sneering malicious way.  No, they seemed friendly and caring.  He glanced beyond them, letting his gaze roam over the people in the café.  They all wore similar expressions, supportive and concerned for him.  It touched him so that he risked giving them a tiny smile back.

Then he turned his attention back to the group standing beside him.  "Um, thanks.  Thanks a lot.  I really appreciate it."

When they had left, Harry looked at his father and friends.  "They were nice about it, the slavery spell, I mean," he said in surprise.

"We've been telling you," Ron pointed out.  "Most people, just about everyone, in fact, is on your side.  No one's going to be mean to you."

Severus just reached to gently squeeze Harry's hand.

After lunch it was time to head over to the stadium, a big silver dome across a field from the village.  By now there were hordes of people about and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all gazed around eagerly as they followed Severus to the entrance gates.  Many people, including Harry and his friends, were dressed in red and white, but quite a few wore red and green in support of the Portuguese team as well.  The atmosphere was not as wildly festive as the World Cup had been, and Harry saw no camping tents set up nearby, but everyone seemed excited and in good spirits.

As they drew near to the stadium, there were a number of carts and booths with vendors selling programs, banners, omnioculars, and T-shirts.  Harry and Ron wanted new pairs of omnioculars to watch the match and Hermione bought a program and a banner while Severus waited rather impatiently.

They had to stand in line to show their tickets and climb what seemed like a thousand stairs, but finally they were seated in a box near the top of the stadium; Severus had gotten very good seats, and ready for the game to begin.

Harry remembered the veela and the leprechauns from the World Cup and he had hoped that there would be a similar show here, but apparently the national teams didn't bother with that during their regular seasons.  Instead each country's players just flew a circuit around the stadium when they were announced.  Then everyone took up positions, the referee blew a whistle, and the match began.

Both teams were skilled and it was an exciting game.  The Portuguese chasers took the Quaffle right away and were off like a shot towards England's goal hoops.  Only the quick action of the keeper, Casey Lyle, kept them from scoring.

"Wooo!  Yes!"  Ron shouted, pumping his fist into the air.  He turned to Harry.  "Thank Merlin we've got Lyle.  Their chasers are better but Lyle's the best keeper in the League, or one of the best anyway.  The Seekers are about equal, I think."

Harry nodded in agreement, but before he could say anything, England's chasers Jessica Murphy and Philip Shaw snatched the Quaffle and flew across the field. 

And so the game went.  The chasers battled back and forth across the field while the keepers defended their goals and the beaters struggled to protect their teammates from flying bludgers.  But Harry concentrated on watching the Seekers, admiring their agility and daring as they spun and dove and performed aerial acrobatics high above the others.  He kept squinting, trying to find the snitch, but from such a distance it was virtually impossible.  Now and again he could glimpse it through the omnioculars, but only rarely.

The score remained close, with first one side and then other pulling ahead.  Harry and Ron shouted themselves hoarse and even Severus and Hermione seemed tense.  There were a few minor injuries both from bludgers and from flying mishaps, but no one was seriously hurt.  And of course, no Quidditch game would be complete without scuffles and disputed fouls.

Ron threw himself into defending his team wholeheartedly.  "Ref, are you blind?  Harry, did you see that?"  He howled, gesturing wildly towards the field.  "It was a blatant..."

"Mr. Weasley," Severus broke in, using Ron's surname for emphasis.  "I assure you that screeching like a banshee is not going to affect the referee's decision."  He scowled at the pitch and crossed his arms.  "Asinine as it is."

In the end the Portuguese seeker, Ramon Eduardo Tavares, captured the snitch first, using a breath-taking variant of a Wronski move, and Portugal won.  Once the match had ended Ron seemed to take it all in stride.

"Oh, well, it was a good game and Tavares was awesome," he said as they left the stadium. 

"I wonder if I could learn that dive," Harry mused.  "He started out twisting to the right and then took a nosedive, and then spun upside down."

"It looked dangerous," Hermione remarked.

"It did indeed," Severus agreed, shooting his son a stern look.  "I do not believe that move should be added to your repertoire, Harry."

They left the stadium behind and Severus ushered them to a spot away from the crowd.  "Harry, would you like to do the honours?"

"Sure."  Harry held his wand over the bracelet.  "Hermione, if I think your address, what part of your house do you think we'll show up in?"

"I have no idea," Hermione admitted.

They all looked at Severus.

"Perhaps you should think of a specific room, such as Hermione's kitchen?"  He suggested.

"Yeah, okay.  I'll do that."  Harry nodded and tapped his bracelet.

A second later they were standing in the Grangers' cheerful yellow and white kitchen, but immediately they all knew something was wrong, horribly wrong.  Cabinet doors were flung open and dishes and glasses lay in broken shards across the floor.  Most ominous of all, dark red streaks of blood led through the door into the living room.

Hermione's face was the colour of chalk and she exclaimed sharply, but her cry was drowned out by a piercing, agonized scream.

"Stay here!"  Severus hissed at the teens.  He drew his wand and darted towards the door.