Draco was in a remarkably good mood that evening as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room after dinner. He'd just received a letter from his father Lucius telling him that Lucius had managed to sway the appeal court round to his way of thinking, which meant that the oaf Hagrid had lost his case and the vicious hippogriff was slated to be executed, as was only proper for such a dangerous beast. The execution would occur sometime within the next month, as soon as a space could be cleared in the docket. Currently the executioner, MacNair, was out of the country on private business.

"Too bad," Draco was saying to Crabbe, one of his ever present hulking friends, who was rather dim-witted, and allowed Draco to boss him around something awful. "I'd of loved the execution to take place right now, no sense in letting a vicious beast like that live. What an idiot that stupid Hagrid was, thinking he could claim an appeal for that creature! No jury in their right mind would take the side of a hippogriff against a Malfoy."

His two cronies smiled and sniggered in agreement.

"Maybe that's because the jury wasn't in their right mind, Malfoy," said a soft voice from behind them.

Malfoy spun about, they were almost to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, to come face to face with the girl he least wanted to see, the one who had spurned him in front of half the student body at Hogwarts.

"What's that supposed to mean, Beast Girl?"

Aria stiffened, but she did not react to the cruel nickname he'd coined for her. "It means that the jury was probably paid off by your father, Malfoy. He was afraid that Hagrid might have a shot at winning, so he made sure the deck was stacked in his favor. How much did he pay them to buy their silence and their verdict, hmmm?"

"What makes you think my father needed to do anything of the sort?"

"Because he's like you, Draco, a self-centered, wicked, manipulative bastard who delights in seeing others suffer. He knew how much Buckbeak meant to Hagrid."

Draco sneered at the amber-eyed girl. "Boo hoo, poor Hagrid! I should've known you'd be a bleeding heart and take the side of the vicious beast, seeing as you're half beast yourself, Lupin!"

"That's the pot calling the cauldron black, Malfoy," Aria said angrily. "Because the way I heard it, you deserved everything you got that lesson, since you ignored Hagrid's instructions and tried to treat a hippogriff the way you would a house elf. Then, when it clawed you for being an arrogant brat, you went running to your daddy like a big baby and got him to sentence an innocent animal to death. Who's the beast now, huh?"

Draco had turned a rather interesting shade of pink by this time and his gray eyes were burning with fury. "Who are you to lecture me, Lupin? You're nothing but two-bit trash from the swamps of Louisiana, where they sleep with their cousins and their dogs. No wonder you're a shape-slipper, Lupin, must run in your bloodline, the affinity with animals. You're a disgrace to purebloods everywhere, you know that?"

Aria snorted. "That's rich, Malfoy, considering you were ready to go out with me just a month ago! You weren't too worried about the Malfoy name and honor then were you, Boy Toy?"

Draco flushed an even deeper red. "That was before I knew what you were, Lupin!"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, buster?"

Draco looked her up and down scornfully. "It means that a Malfoy has more pride than to associate with a furry, no telling what kind of diseases or fleas I could pick up from you, right Goyle?"

"Yeah, only Potter would lower himself to associate with a furry!" brayed Goyle. Then he froze in mid-laugh, his eyes growing very wide in his round flabby face.

"Too true!" chortled Draco. "Potter grew up with Muggles, he's used to lying down with dogs and waking up with fleas!"

Goyle went white as a dead fish, his eyes focusing on a tall figure standing behind Aria, glowering at them fit to kill.

Severus had followed Aria hoping to catch her alone and invite her to his quarters along with Harry and attempt to figure out what was troubling the girl. He had just caught the last few remarks Draco had thrown at Lupin's niece and he was ready to strangle the little brat. The sheer cruelty and nastiness of the remarks made Severus's blood boil and he had to clench his fists together and remind himself that he was a teacher, and not permitted to beat a student within an inch of his misbegotten life, no matter what. But oh, how he longed to take the spoiled snot by the scruff of his neck and wallop the living daylights out of him!

Since that was not an option (at least not one if he wished to keep his job and not be arrested for assault on a minor), Severus did the next best thing.

"Mr. Malfoy," he hissed in a deadly soft tone, one that any member of his House knew spelled doom for the one it was directed at. "Is this proper behavior, to malign and degrade one of your own House?"

Draco went pale as an ice sculpture upon hearing that dreadful tone from his Head of House. "Professor, I-I . . .uh . . .was merely pointing out that, uh, Miss Lupin shouldn't hang around Mudbloods and stupid Gryffindors," the boy floundered, trying desperately to climb out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

"Indeed?" Snape's eyebrow lifted and he fixed Draco with a glare that could have cut glass. The boy quivered. "Then you think my son is a stupid Gryffindor, Malfoy?"

"No! Of course not!" Draco said swiftly. "I meant everyone in Gryffindor except Potter, sir."

"Did you now? I find it hard to believe you have the slightest bit of respect for my son when you can't even remember to use his proper name, Mr. Malfoy. He is a Snape, not a Potter. Do try and remember that, Malfoy, it really isn't that hard, unless your brain has become stagnant from the company you keep." Here Severus cast a meaningful glance at Draco's two companions, who were shaking like leaves in a windstorm.

"Yes sir." Malfoy was eyeing his teacher the way a mouse might eye a hungry cat, with fear and trepidation. "May I go now, sir?" He made as if to scurry inside the portrait hole.

"Stay where you are, Mr. Malfoy!" snarled Severus. "I haven't dismissed you yet."

Draco froze, all the blood draining from his face, until he resembled a vampire's offspring.

"Sir?"

The professor remained planted firmly in front of the now nervous child, his hands on his hips in the classic lecturing pose of a parent ready to dole out some serious punishment. "Don't try and play innocent lamb with me, boy! It never worked before Malfoy, and it won't now. I heard every word that came out of your mouth before-every one! And what did they tell me about you, young man? That you are thoughtless and cruel and filled with the worst prejudices of our kind-in short, you're a disgrace to my House, Malfoy! What is the fourth Slytherin House Rule, boy? Answer me!"

Draco gulped, then stammered, "Uh, it's . . ummm . . .Show malice and prejudice towards none of your fellows, for your reputation precedes you. Practice tolerance towards one another."

Snape's lip curled. "And would you call what you said to Miss Lupin practicing tolerance towards one another, Malfoy?"

"But sir, she started it, defending that stupid hippogriff of Hagrid's that nearly bit my arm off!" Draco cried, trying to sidestep answering the question.

"Did I ask you what started your little squabble?" Severus demanded harshly.

"No sir."

"Then answer my first question, mister! Yes or no?"

"No sir." Draco admitted, lowering his eyes to study the floor. "But Professor, everything I said about her was true! You can't trust furries, my father says they're unpredictable-a beast in human shape."

"Mr. Malfoy, you will never use that term in my presence again, is that clear?" spat the irate older wizard. "Nor any derivative of it, otherwise I shall do something your father should have years ago, and wash out your mouth with a bar of soap. Miss Lupin is a shape-slipper or shifter if you're being informal. As for the rest of what your father told you, he was misinformed and mistaken. Miss Lupin is certainly not an animal in a human body, she is a very talented witch who deserves your respect. She is also a Slytherin and you should feel some loyalty towards her, at least enough not to fight in public. Instead I find you picking a quarrel with her in the middle of the corridor, Malfoy!"

"I wasn't! I was just-"

"Just taking advantage of the new student, the way your father once did to me," stated Severus frostily. "Don't bother to lie to me, Malfoy, I know you too well! I won't tolerate that kind of behavior, not at all. You will cease harassing Miss Lupin immediately, all of you, and act like a true Slytherin. Or else I shall dock points and make you wish you were Sorted into Gryffindor." Then he gave Draco a scathing glance and added, "As for your punishment, Mr. Malfoy, you now have detention with me every night for a week, including this weekend."

Draco gaped at him in disbelief. "But-but Professor Snape-this weekend is a Quidditch game!"

"Too bad. You will have to miss it, since you will be spending all day tomorrow scrubbing down the Owlery. Until all of the perches and the woodwork and the feeding dishes are so clean I can see my reflection in them. After that you shall be cleaning the bathrooms down here."

"What? But that's-that's a job for-for house elves!" Malfoy sputtered, outraged and horrified. "You can't make me . . ."

"Can't I?" Severus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "As your Head of House I most certainly can, boy, and I shall." He gave Draco a sharp smile. "I have had it with your little rebellious escapades and your disregard for my rules. It ends now. In fact I think you need a lesson in respect starting tonight, Malfoy." Severus reached out and grabbed the blond boy expertly by the ear. "Come along, Mr. Malfoy. You can start on the bathroom down here tonight. Without magic, mind."

Draco yelped. "Oww! Let go, sir!"

Severus ignored him. "March, mister!"

The professor began dragging the protesting Draco down the corridor towards the Slytherin bathrooms.

"Oww! Not so hard, you're going to rip off my ear!" whined the brat.

"Perhaps that would teach you to listen better. Now come along."

Their footsteps receded further down the corridor, and they could hear Draco, still whining, " . . .my father will . . .won't be happy . . ."

"By all means, boy, go running to your father like a cringing tattletale," sneered Snape, his voice just audible. "After you serve my detention, that is."

Crabbe and Goyle took one look at each other then at Aria and both of them scrambled into the portrait hole together.

Aria suppressed a giggle. Probably going to hide under their beds or something. Guess I would too if Uncle Sev was that furious with me. She allowed herself a small smile, pleased that at least Severus was willing to stand up for her. It had been a long time since she'd had an adult who would support her that way.

She was just about to enter the portrait hole herself when she heard Harry calling from behind her, "Aria! Wait!"

She turned about. "Hey. What ‘s up, Harry?"

"Nothing much. Thought you might be up for a quick study hour. I could use some help in Transfiguration," he said quickly, knowing full well that Transfiguration was her best subject.

"And I could use some help in Defense," she allowed. "I still haven't mastered using a wand for certain spells."

"Uh, we could go to my dad's apartment," suggested Harry. "He won't mind us studying there as long as we're kind of quiet."

"Okay," she agreed and followed him to Professor Snape's quarters, which were practically right next to the Slytherin dormitory.

Harry was delighted, for he hadn't seen much of Aria in the past three weeks, except briefly in the morning when she went for her daily run and in class. But lately it seemed as if she was avoiding him, for he could not find hide nor hair of her after class was done, and no one else knew where she was either. It had been sheer luck he'd run into her when he did.

Once they'd gained the relative privacy and safety of Snape's quarters, Harry asked, "Aria, are you mad at me or something? Because you barely spoke to me at all for weeks. What did I do?"

She gaped at him in astonishment. "Nothing, Harry! I didn't mean . . .I wasn't avoiding you, just some other creeps in my House and some in yours. It's not important."

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded. "People have been saying stuff again, right? About me being your friend."

"No. This time it was me. Somehow they found out I was a shape-slipper, and now they hate me for it." Aria admitted. "I scare them, I guess. Anyhow, that's not important." She quickly changed the subject. "Your dad just chewed up Malfoy and spit him out tonight."

Harry blinked then cried, "About time! What did the big idiot do, wear a Death Eater mask to bed?"

"Nope. He called me a furry and some other stuff as well and your dad heard and gave him a sound scolding and detention for a week, I think. Pretty cool, huh?"

Haryr nodded. "You bet!" he knelt to remove his Transfiguration text from his book bag. He was glad his dad had punished Malfoy so severely, he deserved it for talking trash about Aria. "All right, here's what McGonagall assigned us for tonight . . ."

Aria pulled out her own text and nodded.

By the time Severus returned to his apartment, he found his son and Aria studying, a sight which pleased him to no end. It was a sight which Hermione would have smiled at and Ron fainted dead away-Harry actually volunteering to study and do homework. But Harry didn't mind studying with Aria, oddly enough.

Severus smiled to himself and settled down at his desk to mark some papers, pleased with the positive influence Aria was having on his homework-avoiding son. Hopefully, Malfoy's punishment would get around to certain House members and they would be discouraged from harassing Aria any longer. Though he couldn't control the way other students in the other three Houses behaved outside of his class, he hoped his discipline of his own snakes would send a message to the others as well. The persecution had to stop, for Severus would not permit another child to endure what he had-the endless humiliation and taunts day in and day out, for years. A professor's work is never done, Snape, he thought wryly as he continued to grade his tests.

• * * * * * *

Word of Draco's God-awful detention soon spread about the school and as Severus had hoped, it did indeed curb the more nasty Slytherins, who recognized Malfoy's punishment was a warning from their strict Head-shape up or else that will be you next! It also put a bit of a damper on some of the other girls and boys campaign of ostracizing the shape-slipper.

However, that just meant that now they had to find a new target, which they did in the form of one Harry Snape. "Daddy's pet" soon became his nickname among Malfoy and his cronies, who attempted to sabotage him every chance they got, in class or out of it. Harry was used to Malfoy's campaigns, they had always been rivals and loathed one another, so that was nothing new. But what did bother him was the sudden increase in hostility from some Gryffindors. Dean and Seamus were the most vocal about it, calling him Slytherin lover and a traitor to the lion, but Harry could sense a current of disapproval running through them whenever he chanced to be back in the Gryffindor common room.

It was unsettling to say the least and Harry was grateful both for his mum's charm and his father's insistence on being prepared and alert at all times. Harry now carried his wand with him everywhere, even to the loo or the shower, and slept with it beneath his pillow.

Ron and Hermione looked at him askance, they probably thought he was a wee bit paranoid, but Harry took his father's advice to heart for once and did as Snape had suggested his first night back at school. He hated the fact that he had to behave that way, for he had always thought of Hogwarts as his second home, actually it had been his only real home until Severus claimed him.

Why is my life always so bloody complicated? He wondered irritably upon returning from Herbology one day. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. There were times he felt as if he lived in the center of a whirlwind, events swirled and floated around him and every so often one would hit him in the face. Nothing was ever normal for him, ever since Voldemort had etched that lightning scar into his forehead. The closest he'd ever come to normal was six months ago, living with his dad and aunt in New Jersey.

Thinking about New Jersey made him realize that he hadn't written Neil a letter in ages, and he headed back to his room after dinner to compose one before he started on his homework. Only to discover that his favorite ostrich feather quill, blue with a violet streak through the center, was missing. He searched through his desk frantically, wondering where he could have mislaid it. He never took the quill to class, always preferring to use the regular gray goose feathered ones for writing down assignments and notes. The ostrich quill was self-sharpening and re-filling, it had been a going away present from Neil. "So you won't forget to write, Harry," his friend had joked just before Harry had left.

How could he have been so careless? He got up to check on his father's desk, perhaps Severus had borrowed it?

But no, the quill wasn't there. At a loss, Harry forced himself to sit down and think about when he'd last seen the quill. Organize your thoughts in a chronological fashion and most times a solution to a problem will occur, or so his father was always saying. Harry took several deep breaths, shut his eyes, and concentrated.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced, and then Harry knew where the quill was. Hermione had borrowed it. She'd been writing invitations for Roberta Merrick's birthday party and had needed the ever sharp point.

Whistling happily, Harry headed up to Gryffindor Tower.

* * * * *

He found Hermione studying in the common room, as usual. Harry sometimes wondered if she was the most conscientious student in the school, for she started her homework right after her classes were done, not even pausing for a half-hour break. Ron called her mental and said she wasn't normal. Hermione answered that was why she got better grades than Ron, because she actually did the assignments. Right then, the brown-haired girl was busy reading her Arithmancy text and making notes with Harry's quill.

"Hey, Hermione, what are you working on now?"

She glanced up from her notes, which appeared to be one big mess of numbers and odd calculations that Harry was happy he never had to deal with, it looked like murder. "Hi, Harry. Is it dinner yet?"

Harry checked his watch, he still wore a Muggle one. "Uh, no. But it will be in another half-an-hour."

"Oh good. Then I've time to finish up my Arithmancy. Then I can get started on my Care of Magical Creatures, that should be easy compared to my Muggle Studies paper."

Harry just looked at the pile of books and the three foot essay spread in front of the girl and shook his head. "Mione, you're going to drive yourself crazy taking so many courses. How can you do it? There aren't enough hours in a day."

Hermione chuckled, glancing away. "Uh . . .well you know me, Harry. I've always been good at managing my time well. But it's a lot of work."

"Mmm, I can see that. Why don't you drop a course or two? Then you'll have some free time to, uh, read or whatever," Harry suggested, only then realizing he didn't know what Hermione did for fun.

"Oh no! I couldn't do that!" she gasped, scandalized.

"Says who? Hermione, there's more to life than just books and class."

"Yes, but I like my classes, Harry, so this isn't like real work for me."

Harry slanted her a disbelieving look. "All right. If you say so." Then he changed the subject to the news of poor Hagrid and Buckbeak, who had lost their appeal.

"That's awful!" cried Hermione. "Poor Hagrid! What can we do?"

"Uh, just visit him, I guess. There's no way we could stop an execution," Harry said sadly.

"I feel so bad for him, Harry! I know what it's like to lose a pet, I lost my cat Mittens when I was ten, he was old and sick and we had to put him down, but it was dreadful and I cried for days. That's one of the reasons I got Crookshanks, because I missed having a cat."

"Where is Crookshanks, anyhow?"

"Around, I guess. I don't bother to keep him confined to the common room, he goes where he will, like every other cat I've ever known." Hermione answered. "Speaking of pets, where's Rosie?"

Harry looked by his feet, but there was no beagle sitting there. "Uh, dunno right now, but I'm sure she'll turn up."

There weren't many places for the beagle to hide in the Gryffindor common room after all.

As if on cue they heard a beagle's soft bay ring out. Harry cocked his head. "Sounds like it's coming from upstairs. Hope she didn't get locked in one of the dorm rooms. She'll go crazy."

"Ron's up there, looking for some Quidditch book, I think. So if she's on his side of the tower, he can let her out." Hermione said, finishing up her notes. "Otherwise, I'll go up and let her out of the girls' dorm myself."

Harry watched the girl cap her ink bottle before asking, "Uh, Hermione, you done with my quill now? ‘Cause I sort of wanted to use it to write a letter to my friend Neil back in New Jersey, see what's going on with him and stuff."

"No problem, Harry. I've finished, you can have it back now." Hermione handed it back to him and he tucked it in the pocket of his robes. "It writes like a dream, I love it. Where did you get it, anyhow?"

Before Harry could answer that question, they heard a shriek and the sound of paws and footsteps running down the stairs. "Uh oh. Wonder what Rosie chewed this time?" groaned Harry.

But the little beagle raced into the common room with nothing in her mouth, though her muzzle was oddly flecked with something red. She ran and crawled underneath Hermione's table, huddling next to Harry, her huge eyes pleading.

"All right, troublemaker, what did you do?" Harry demanded sternly.

"I'll tell you what she did!" yelled a furious Ron, coming into the common room looking like he wanted to throttle someone, his eyes bright with anger and his face flushed with the Weasley temper. "She KILLED Scabbers!" He held a white sheet in one hand, stained liberally with red stains that Harry dimly identified as blood stains.

"Ron, don't be ridiculous-" Hermione began.

"Ridiculous!" yelled the boy. "Look at that!" he shoved the bloody sheet on top of Hermione's homework.

"Ron, she's only been up there ten minutes," Harry said, knowing full well it took no time at all for the adventurous beagle to get in trouble. But still, he couldn't picture the dog killing another animal, despite her natural hunting instinct.

"Plenty of time to KILL my rat, Harry! I was up there, looking under my bed for my book and I didn't know she had followed me until I heard her bark. Then I stuck my head out from under the bed and saw her standing on her hindlegs on the bed, sniffing and licking at something. And when I went to see what it was, I found blood all over the sheet and some of Scabber's hairs on it and SHE-" he stabbed a finger at the dog, who was sitting under the table. "-had blood on her mouth! Scabbers was gone and she killed him."

"Ron, she's never killed anything before," Harry objected. "Not even a squirrel."

"Well, maybe she got hungry and decided Scabbers looked like a good snack!"

Harry knelt and called the beagle to him. Rosie came, her head lowered, but not really acting ashamed or guilty, the way she usually did if she had done something she knew was wrong. He gently took the dog's muzzle in his hands, examining it closely. It was indeed speckled with drops of blood.

Harry gently pried open the beagle's jaws, peering at her teeth and tongue. There was no blood on them. "Ron, she only has blood on her muzzle, not her tongue. If she-if she bit Scabbers, there'd be blood in her mouth."

"Maybe she swallowed it," Ron insisted stubbornly, glaring fit to kill at the dog. "I know what I saw, Harry!"

"Ron, you saw her licking a bloody sheet. If she killed Scabbers, where's the body?" Harry demanded, releasing the dog, who snuggled next to his knee.

"I told you-she ATE him! Swallowed him whole or-or whatever."

"Ron, she couldn't have, she's not big enough. Scabbers was a pretty good sized rat. That'd be more like what a cat would do, like Crookshanks," Harry pointed out.

"Hey!" Hermione cried indignantly. "Nice one, Harry, blaming my cat!"

"Sorry, but it does make sense," Harry said apologetically. "Crookshanks never liked Scabbers."

"Neither did Rosie," Hermione reminded him, glaring at him. "She used to growl at him sometimes."

"There, you see! It was a conspiracy!" Ron shouted. "They probably divided up poor Scabbers between them. One got the front and the other got the rear end!" He waved the sheet around some more angrily.

"Ron, you have no proof either of them killed your rat," said Hermione quietly. "You're overreacting."

"Overreacting! Bloody HELL, Hermione! I'd bet you'd not be so calm if some dumb beagle ate Crookshanks!"

"Rosie's not dumb!" snapped Harry. "And she didn't eat your blasted rat!"

"Where is he then, Harry? He was in a locked room, how did he get out?" Ron accused. "You telling me he vanished into thin air?"

"No, but don't go pointing fingers at my dog. Especially when you've no proof."

"I saw what I saw, Snape!" Ron indicated his eyes with a thumb. "Your bloody beagle's a murdering beast!"

"Don't you call her that, Weasley!" Harry growled, confronting Ron eye to eye.

"I'll call her whatever I damn well please!"

"Why all the shouting, little brother?" asked Fred, coming into the common room from the portrait hole.

"We could hear you shrieking from the hallway," remarked George.

"Ron thinks Rosie ate Scabbers," Hermione informed them. "Actually he thinks Crookshanks did too. He's utterly irrational."

The twins exchanged glances. "Ron, are you sure Scabbers-"

"-is gone? Maybe he's just hiding."

"He's not! He's gone and it's all her fault!"

Fred looked at Rosie, who was puzzled as to why Ron was shouting and pointing at her. Usually people only did that when she had chewed an article of clothing, but she hadn't chewed anything today.

"She doesn't look like she's been eating rat," Fred said thoughtfully.

"She was licking blood off of her face, Fred!"

"Oh . . .er . . .well you know Scabbers was an old rat . . ." began his brother softly.

" . . .and you used to say you wished you had an owl . . ." commented George.

Ron flushed an even deeper red. "I know, but I never wanted Scabbers to die! Especially not like that, George. Eaten by some vicious dog for an appetizer."

"Come off it, Ron!" Harry snapped. "Rosie didn't eat Scabbers. She was sniffing the blood on the sheet, that's how she got blood on her nose."

"Oh right! Defend your murdering mutt! I'm sure the cat and her were in on it! I found ginger hairs on the floor when I crawled out from under the bed."

"You're always ready to think the worst of my cat," cried Hermione, shoving her books back in her bag. "You never liked him."

"Why would I like a murdering rat catcher?"

"Just be quiet, Ronald!" Hermione rose and slung her bookbag over her shoulder. "I can't study here with all this craziness. I'm going upstairs." She strode angrily up the staircase to the girl's side of the dorm.

"Fine! But your cat's guilty by association, I'll bet!"

"Don't be a prat, Ron!" said Harry angrily.

Ron whirled on him. "I wouldn't talk, Snape! Ever since you've moved in with your dad, you act like you're better than the rest of us!"

"I do not. Where do you get off saying that?"

"For starters, you didn't even apologize to me for your stupid dog eating my rat!"

"That's because she didn't eat him, blast it!"

"Oh yeah? Then where is he?"

"How the bloody hell should I know? Do I look like a rat mind reader?" demanded his friend exasperatedly.

"Oh real funny! It's all a big joke to you, right, Snape?" Ron yelled. "Who cares if Weasley's rat has vanished, it was old and useless anyhow. I want that dog out of here and an apology from you, Snape!"

"Rosie goes where I do, Weasley!"

"Then you better stay far away from me, got me?"

"Fine! If you're so stupid as to accuse an innocent animal without proof, then I'll leave you be." Harry snarled, his temper igniting. "And you'll get your apology when hell freezes over, since my beagle's done nothing to apologize for."

Then Harry scooped up Rosie in his arms and stormed out of Gryffindor Tower, before he really lost his temper and drew his wand on his former best friend.

He arrived back at Snape's apartments still steamed and swept into the den like a tornado, slamming the door behind him. Severus looked up from correcting essays and raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong, son?"

Harry breathed in and out sharply. "Later, Dad. I'll tell you later." He set Rosie down and the beagle licked her muzzle and then ran up to Severus, sitting down and giving him a paw. "I need to write in my journal."

"All right. When you're ready to talk, you know where I am," said his father, then he tossed Rosie a dog biscuit from his pocket.

Harry just nodded, then headed into his room to write out his frustration and temper in his red leather journal. He'd started keeping the journal when he had moved to New Jersey and was undergoing informal therapy with his dad and aunt. In it he wrote about his feelings and other things, like dreams and nightmares that he didn't feel comfortable discussing out loud, as a way of reflecting and releasing tension. He hadn't used the journal for a while, but now he needed it.

He removed Neil's quill from his pocket, took the journal from its place in his nightstand drawer, and sprawled across his bed and began to write about how angry he was with Ron, who had the nerve to accuse Rosie of eating his rat. How dare he? She was a beagle, not a terrier, for Merlin's sake! He began to write furiously, channeling all his feelings of anger and hurt onto the paper.

Perhaps when he was done with that, he'd pen a letter to Neil. God knew he had plenty to tell him.