Harry served his detention with McGonagall at seven o'clock, right after he'd eaten dinner. Not that he ate much, he was too upset to do more than pick at his food. He made sure Rosie was fed again and asked Ron and Hermione to play with the beagle while he was gone. "Hopefully I'll survive," he threw over his shoulder just before he left the common room.

He went to McGonagall's office first, where he received a thorough and pointed dressing down that made him cringe. Then the Transfiguration teacher led him into her classroom and made him write I must remember to control my temper two hundred times on her blackboard. Harry soon discovered the old-fashioned punishment was much worse than writing lines with a quill, since by the time he was done, his back and his wrist were one furious aching mess. But he had learned his lesson, and McGonagall dismissed him with a partial smile.

"I trust we shall not have a repeat of such an incident, Mr. Snape?"

"No, ma'am," Harry was quick to reply, rubbing his wrist.

"Good, now I believe you have an appointment with your father, right?"

Harry nodded glumly. "Yes, Professor." He felt his stomach start churning just imaging his father's anger at his latest escapade.

"Good luck, Harry," Minerva said with a touch of sympathy in her tone. She did not envy the boy being on the receiving end of Severus's temper. Although, the child did deserve it, for he had been wrong to attack Malfoy that way, provoked or not. Discipline over emotions was paramount for a spellcasting wizard, thought the Transfiguration professor, a fact which she knew Severus would be sure to impress upon his son.

Harry went down the stairs to the dungeons and past the Slytherin portrait hole at a snail's pace, knowing with each step he took that there was no delaying the inevitable. He dreaded his father's anger, for he had come to value Severus's opinion highly, and he hated disappointing the man like this. I should've remembered to control my temper, damn it all! Why didn't I?

He approached the door to his father's quarters and lifted a hand to knock, knowing it was warded against any chance entry. Snape was cautious even now, when he had forsaken his spying duties forever, and Harry knew better than to try and enter Snape's quarters unannounced.

Harry knocked sharply on the door, feeling his stomach do a flip when he heard a soft voice speaking in Latin, cancelling the ward over the door. "Enter."

Harry pushed open the door and walked into Severus's apartments, shutting the door quickly behind him. His father was waiting for him before the fireplace in the den, a scowl dominating his features. Harry fought to look the man in the eye. Sometimes Severus in a temper made him want to cringe and hide under a table.

"You've served your detention with Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes sir." Harry surreptitiously rubbed his wrist beneath his robes.

"Sit," Severus ordered, indicating the couch.

Harry obeyed, grateful for the command, since sitting would hide his shaking knees. He didn't know why he was so blasted nervous, it wasn't as if he was afraid Severus would beat him, and he'd weathered the other's sharp tongue before, but the fact was that an angry male figure of authority always roused in him feelings of utter anxiety and fear. It was a legacy of his time with the Dursleys and even six months with Severus had not completely erased the instinctive reactions.

"Suppose you tell me why you felt it necessary to inflict such painful bodily harm upon Mr. Malfoy, Harry?" Severus began, keeping his tone low, but it was sharp with disapproval.

"He tried to hex Rosie," Harry answered defensively. "I was coming into the hall for lunch with Ron, Hermione, and Aria and he had a wand pointed at her. He was going to curse her, I could tell, and not anything harmless either! He meant to hurt her good, Dad. What did you want me to do, let him?" queried his son, his green eyes now stormy, his nervousness vanished with the rekindling of his temper. "Nobody hurts my dog, I don't care who the hell he is, or what she's done."

"Of course not, but I did expect you to act like a mature individual, which meant getting a teacher, not attacking Draco like a maniac. How many times have I told you to control your temper, son? I wasn't talking for the sake of hearing my own voice, young man."

Harry hung his head. "I know that, sir. But it was Malfoy, Dad! You know I can't stand him, the arrogant twit!"

"The feeling is mutual, I think," Severus remarked dryly. "However that doesn't excuse your actions after you disarmed him, Harry. He was helpless without a wand, so why did you continue attacking him?"

"I told you, Dad, he was trying to hurt Rosie. After I knocked his wand away, he went up to her and tried to kick her in the head. Only reason he didn't hurt her was because I grabbed the back of his robes and pulled him away. Then I just got mad and I kicked him just the way he tried to kick Rosie."

"God grant me patience," Severus muttered, rubbing his temple with one hand. "And was it necessary to kick him in the privates, of all places?"

Harry flushed, feeling the tips of his ears turn pink in embarrassment. "Er . . . I wasn't aiming there, but somehow my foot ended up there." Then he scowled. "Come on, Dad, so what if I kicked the slimy ferret in the balls? It's not like he needs to have kids any time soon-if he could ever find a girl willing to put up with his crap anyway."

"Harry!" shouted Severus, feeling a massive headache coming on. "Whether or not Malfoy can reproduce is not the issue here, your behavior is! You know the rules, Harrison Remus Snape. Any kind of dueling or brawling is strictly forbidden here, and you ought to know the reason why. Discipline over your mind and body is essential for a wizard, because only then can you control your magic. I had thought you'd learned your lesson about controlling your temper months ago, but now it appears I was wrong."

"I have, Dad. It's just-"

"No, no more excuses, mister," Severus cut him off. "I've warned you before about your temper. This time it only injured one person, next time it could kill someone, especially if you've got a wand in your hand when you lose it. You cannot afford that, Harry! These childish outbursts have got to stop, otherwise when you finally face Riddle, he'll dominate you and destroy you. You must be in control of yourself, every aspect, mind, body, and especially emotions. Riddle is an expert at possession and mind magics, son, and he'll crush you unless you can keep your head and block him out. And in order to do that, you must control your damn temper. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm sorry. But I couldn't help it, he was gonna hurt my dog," Harry said, ashamed and defiant all at once. Surely his father could understand why he'd lost it with Malfoy like that?

"Harry, you must learn to help it, for the Dark Lord will threaten more than just your beagle before he is done." Severus pointed out mercilessly. "And you can't afford to let mere threats deter you from your purpose." He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at his child. "Your actions today have shown me that you have a long way to go before you are ready to face even one of his Death Eaters, much less Riddle himself. Not only that, but you're a danger to everyone around you with your loss of control. What do I have to do to make you see that? Must someone die before you see the seriousness of my orders, young man?"

"No sir. It won't happen again."

"It better not, otherwise you'll have detention with me for a month. As it is, you're going to see me tomorrow evening and be prepared to write an essay for me about how else you could have handled the situation with Malfoy and also I have several cauldrons and bottles that need scrubbing. Seven o'clock sharp, Mr. Snape. If you're late I'll take twenty points as well."

Harry groaned and nodded, he really hated writing essays and to be scrubbing blasted cauldrons on top of it . . .he wished he'd kicked Malfoy to the moon. "What about Malfoy, Dad? You're not gonna let him get away with trying to hurt Rosie, are you?"

"How I punish Draco is none of your concern, Harry," said his father sternly. "I'm perfectly aware that he was at fault too, and I shall address that issue at a later time. Although this all might have been avoided, young man, if you had done as I told you when we first arrived at school and left Rosie in Hagrid's care while you were in class."

"I was doing that, Dad," Harry protested. "But today Hagrid was in London and I didn't remember that until Hermione reminded me of it . . .and I, uh, forgot to feed Rosie this morning. So that's why she went after Malfoy's box of sweets like that."

Severus frowned severely at his son and Harry stared at his shoes, feeling about five inches tall. He knew he deserved every scolding word his dad had spoken, but it didn't lessen the fact that the words hurt, they stung his pride and his self-esteem like a sound spanking. Severus's disapproval hurt as bad now as it had when he was two, he thought glumly. "I'm sorry, I know I was stupid, and this whole mess is really my fault," he began, trying desperately to alleviate the sudden pangs of guilt he was feeling.

"It is partly your fault," Severus corrected, unwilling to let his son flagellate himself for the entire incident. "And you aren't stupid, son, merely forgetful, like most teenagers. Perhaps I need to make up a chart for you to remind you to walk and feed your dog, hmm? Then perhaps you won't repeat this mistake."

Harry blanched. "No! I'm not a little kid, Dad, I can remember to take care of Rosie myself." That would be all the others needed to see, his dad posting a chart on the wall to remind him when to feed the dog like he was some five-year-old. He'd never live it down.

"See that you do, Harry, or else I'll draw up a large chart with colored stickers just for you," his father warned silkily.

"No, please!" his son begged, looking utterly horrified.

Severus relented, coming over and patting Harry on the shoulder. "All right, quit acting like I just told you to walk naked into my potions class. Teenagers! You're all so dramatic," he clucked his tongue, shaking his head.

"M' not dramatic," murmured Harry sulkily. "You're just mean, Dad."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Do tell. I wouldn't need to be mean if you'd quit being so bloody impulsive, boy."

"You were just like me at this age, I'll bet."

"Maybe so, but that's exactly why I'm so hard on you now, Harry," his father said softly. "So you don't make the mistakes I made." Then he reached over and ruffled his son's dark hair. "Quit pouting and learn from your mistakes, won't you? Then I won't need to lecture you like this."

"Okay. I'll try."

Severus was wise enough to leave it at that for now. Lecture over with, he then offered his son a cup of tea and some shortbread biscuits, Harry loved them as much as he did.

Afterwards, Harry bid him good night and returned to Gryffindor Tower, where Ron was anxiously awaiting him in the common room.

The red-haired wizard breathed a sharp sigh of relief when he saw his friend come through the portrait hole unharmed.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at his friend. "What's up with you, Ron?"

"Just glad, is all, that your dad didn't skin you and hang you out to dry."

Harry's mouth twitched into a lopsided grin. "Well, he nearly did. I've got detention with him tomorrow night."

"Rotten luck, two detentions in a row. Makes me glad my mum's not a professor here," said Ron feelingly. "Otherwise my brothers and I would be in detention the whole year. Either that or be getting a smacking with a wooden spoon."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "Ron! Your mum hits you with a wooden spoon?"

"Uh, only if we've really made her mad. Why? You telling me your dad never turned you over his knee?"

"Not recently! When I was two, then yeah," admitted Harry.

"Lucky you. Last time Mum walloped me it was second year, after that stunt with Dad's flying car."

"I thought she only sent you a Howler."

Ron shook his head ruefully. "That was just while I was in school. When I got home though . . .she made damn sure I never committed uh, what do Muggles call stealing a car, Harry?"

"Grand theft auto."

"Right. She made damn sure I never committed grand theft auto ever again." Ron declared, wincing. "Good thing Snape didn't know he was your dad then, huh, mate? Otherwise you wouldn't have been able to sit down for a day either, I'll bet."

Harry nodded. He suspected Ron was probably right, given how angry Severus had been that night. "Well, I'm for bed. Got to get up early tomorrow and walk Rosie." And see Aria again, he added silently to himself and smiled.

• * * * * *

Aria reported that Malfoy had been an absolute bear upon his return to the Slytherin common room the previous night. "Honestly, he milked his . . .uh . . . injury for all it was worth," she said, her lips quivering. "He had those two lumps Crabbe and Goyle fetching him everything and waiting on him hand and foot like slaves. You'd have thought he'd gotten a foot amputated the way he carried on, the big baby."

Harry snickered. Malfoy's attitude didn't surprise him. He didn't think the other boy knew how to deal with physical discomfort, he'd been coddled and spoiled his whole life, never suffering true physical hardship the way Harry had. Growing up with Uncle Vernon had taught Harry how to endure pain at an early age, silently and with a minimum of tears. "Did you offer him an ice pack?"

Aria's eyes widened. "No, but Pansy did!" Then she shook a finger at him, smirking. "For shame, Harry Snape! Making light of another's . . .um . . . misfortune."

"He had it coming."

"Sure did, which is why I don't feel the least bit sorry for him," said the shape-slipper. "Anybody who could almost hex a defenseless puppy that way deserves not to be able to sire children. Because any kid of Malfoy's would be the worst brat in the universe." She shuddered. "I pity the poor girl who marries him. Merlin and all the angels help her."

"Thank God it won't be you." Harry said quietly.

"Not on your life, Snape! I'd hang myself first!" Aria looked revolted. Then she shook her head and asked if Harry wanted to go flying.

"Sure." He summoned his broom.

"Uh, and don't forget to feed your dog," Aria reminded, laughing.

"Shut up, Lupin!" Harry growled. "You sound like my mother."

"Well, someone has to, because Merlin knows you need one," the girl teased, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief.

Harry made a face at her. Then he summoned a bowl of water and some dry kibble for Rosie before mounting his broom and soaring after the golden hawk.

• * * * * * *

Harry spent the remainder of that evening scrubbing cauldrons in his father's potions lab after he'd written his essay. That took longer than he expected, because there had been more than the usual number of accidents by the first years, which meant burnt and stuck on goop clung to the inside of most of the cauldrons, requiring Harry to use an extra amount of elbow grease along with a stiff brush to get them sparkling clean again.

By the time he was done, his back felt like hot coals had been applied to it and his hands were wrinkled from being plunged repeatedly into hot soapy water. But his detention was complete and he could honestly say that he'd never kick Malfoy in the nuts again (or if he did, he'd make damn sure his father never found out about it!)

He straightened up from the sink with a groan, one hand going to his back.

Severus picked up on it immediately and came over. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing, Dad. I'm just a little stiff."

Severus eyed him knowingly. "More than a little, I'd say. Come with me."

Harry followed him from the lab back into his quarters, where Severus told him to remove his shirt and robes and lie on his stomach on the couch. "What for?" his son asked warily, for that command during his childhood had always preceded a whipping.

"Relax, I'm not going to beat you, child," Severus said calmly, interpreting his son's reluctance correctly. "I'm going to give you a quick massage, so you'll be able to move tomorrow morning when you have Quidditch practice."

"Oh," Harry mumbled, feeling like an idiot. He did as Severus had requested, lying face down on the couch.

Severus gathered an oil of wintergreen, rue, and eucalyptus from a chest and heated it with a warming charm. Then he poured a small amount on his hands and began to work it into Harry's back, using gentle circular motions.

Harry whimpered at first, but gradually the soreness in his muscles was eased by the combination of the warm oil and Severus's deft fingers, which found all the knots and kinks and removed them with a few firm touches.

"Better now?"

"Much. Who taught you that, Dad?"

"Poppy Pomfrey," he replied, applying pressure along Harry's spine. "Claimed I had just the right hands to be an excellent masseuse."

Harry had to agree with her, his father's hands were like magic, strong yet gentle. Within moments, his back felt as good as new. He yawned, drifting into a half-doze, until Severus gave him a rather hard swat on his behind.

"Up, mister! You're done and now it's time for you to go to bed."

"Okay, okay," his son grumbled, stretching and pulling his shirt and robes back on. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, brat," said his father, then shooed him gently from his apartments.

The Potions Master followed his sleepy son at a distance until Harry entered the Gryffindor Tower, not trusting Harry to be alert to his surroundings. Then he departed, going to check on his snakes before getting some sleep himself.

• * * * * * *

Harry stumbled into his room, careful to light only the tip of his wand with a Lumos spell, since his five roommates were snoring and he didn't wish to wake them. He quickly changed into pajamas, though he was almost too tired to bother, and crawled into bed, dousing his wand and shoving it beneath his pillow. He nudged Rosie off of his pillow, she growled softly and snuggled beside his elbow, and he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, worn out from the long day of classes and detention.

He would have sworn nothing short of a bomb hitting Hogwarts would have wakened him, but Ron's screech of terror and Rosie's sudden snarl brought him bolt upright, one hand snatching up his wand, while speaking a quick "Lumos!"

The first thing he saw was Rosie, standing half on top of him, her fur bristling, and her lips drawn back in a snarl. He'd never seen the gentle dog react like that before and was uncertain what to do. Shoving aside the red hangings on his bed, he stuck his head and wand out cautiously, the words to a Shield Charm on his lips.

But the only thing he saw was Ron's face, white and terrified, shivering in the middle of his bed.

"Ron? What's the matter?"

"It was Sirius Black, mate!"

"Where?"

"Right here, standing beside my bed!" gasped the youngest Weasley son. "With a KNIFE, Harry!" His voice rose on the word knife until he was almost shrieking. "Look at what he did to my bed hangings!"

Ron waved his hand at his hangings, which looked shredded and torn.

Harry slipped from his bed, and Rosie followed, still growling. He bent to examine the hangings and his beagle sniffed about the floor, her fur bristling.

In the other beds, the other boys stirred and woke, muttering sleepily, and very annoyed.

"What's the bloody idea?"

"It's not morning yet, is it?"

"Who screamed?"

"Ron did," answered Harry softly.

"Why? Had a nightmare?" asked Neville.

"No. He thought he saw Sirius Black here."

"I DID see him, Harry!" Ron insisted. "He was right there!" He pointed to the spot Harry was standing on. "With a bloody knife the size of my arm! It wasn't a dream, it was real!"

Rosie snuffled around Ron's bed, growling and yipping.

"See? She knows I'm telling the truth, right, girl? You smell him, don't you?" Ron said to the beagle. "He's nasty and a filthy murderer, right Rosie?"

Harry eyed the dog wonderingly. "She smells something she doesn't like, all right," he conceded. "I've never heard her growl like that. She doesn't even growl at Crookshanks like that." Crookshanks was Hermione's ginger cat.

Rosie had her nose on the ground and was following a trail to the door of the dorm.

"Look! She's tracking him," Ron declared, jumping out of the bed and running to the door, throwing it open.

The beagle raced down the stairs.

Ron, Harry, Neville, and the other boys followed.

Rosie led them to the portrait hole, where she stopped and bayed abruptly.

That brought the other occupants of the Tower down to investigate, including a very cross Minerva.

"What on earth is going on here?" she demanded.

"Rosie's tracking Sirius Black, Professor," explained Neville timidly.

"Sirius Black? Don't be ridiculous, he can't get into the tower," snorted the Head of Gryffindor.

"He did, Professor!" cried Ron. "I saw him. He was standing beside my bed holding a knife!" He waved his hands about wildly. "I woke up and there he was, his knife had slashed my hangings to shreds."

"Mr. Weasley, are you sure it wasn't a nightmare?"

"Yes, I'm sure! I really saw him, it wasn't a dream!" He pointed at Rosie. "Look at Harry's beagle, Professor! She knows Black was here, she's tracking his scent."

Rosie whined and scratched at the portrait hole.

McGonagall frowned at the eager beagle. Then she turned to Harry. "Mr. Snape, does she do this sort of thing often?"

"No, ma'am. Only when she's hunting."

"Restrain her, if you will," the professor ordered crisply. "I need to question Sir Cadogan." That was the new portrait placed on the tower door, since the Fat Lady was being repaired. Apparently this was not the first visit Sirius Black had paid Gryffindor Tower, Harry recalled Ron telling him the convict had invaded the castle two months ago, tried to get into the tower and slashed the Fat Lady's portrait with a knife when she refused to let him in. Afterwards, Black had escaped, and had not been sighted since. Until tonight.

Harry shivered, kneeling down and grasping Rosie by the collar. Had Black meant to kill him and mistaken Ron's bed for his own? Beneath his shirt, he felt the soft glow of his mother's amulet on his chest. The silver lily only warmed when danger threatened, and it was faintly warm now.

McGonagall opened the door to the common room and stepped outside.

Rosie whined and tried to follow.

"No, girl," Harry ordered. "It's not time for you to hunt. Stay!"

Rosie sat, but she was clearly unhappy and gave him a reproachful look. Why won't you let me hunt, silly boy? That's what I'm born to do, her eyes said plainer than words.

"Sorry, but I don't want you to get hurt," Harry told the dog, stroking her ears.

Rosie shook her head, whuffing in annoyance.

Behind him, Harry could hear Ron arguing with his brother Percy.

"You just had a dream, Ron. Like you did that time when you were six and thought a spider came and sat on you," Percy was saying condescendingly.

"I'm telling you, it WASN'T A DREAM! Bloody damn hell, how many times do I have to say it?"

"You watch your mouth, little brother." Percy snapped. "You're not too old to spank, Ronald."

"You wouldn't dare!" snarled Ron. "Who do you think you are, Percy, our mother?"

"Leave the kid alone," said George.

"You two stay out of this!" ordered Percy. "I'm the oldest here."

"And the biggest prat!" Fred retorted. "Touch Ron and we'll tell Mum what you were really doing with Annie Bliss on holiday."

"And it sure wasn't studying!" chimed in George. "Least not the academic kind!"

"That's-blackmail! Why you rotten snarky-" sputtered their older brother.

Harry turned an ear back towards the open portrait hole, where the professor was still questioning Sir Cadogan.

"Sir Cadogan did you let a man into Gryffindor Tower tonight?" demanded Minerva.

"I certainly did, lady!" responded the knight in the portrait.

Minerva gasped. "You did what? How could you let an intruder into the tower? You have failed in your duty, sir!"

"I most certainly have not!" cried the knight, insulted. "He had all the passwords, knew ‘em all."

"All the passwords?" repeated McGonagall weakly. "For the whole week?"

Sir Cadogan nodded. "Indeed, lady. And he who knows the password may enter the tower."

McGonagall went pale. Then she stormed back into the common room, her eyes blazing like the fires of hell. She slammed the door shut and said in a lethally soft tone that reminded Harry of his father at his worst, "Who wrote down the passwords and left them where anyone could find them? Well? What infernally stupid person is guilty of such negligence?"

There was dead silence in the room.

None of the students met her eyes.

McGonagall tapped her foot impatiently against the floor. "Well? I'm waiting," she snapped, and her tone implied that she would wait for ages until she got an answer to her question.

At last there came a soft cough and Neville whispered, "It was me, Professor."

McGonagall pinned the shaking boy with a glare worthy of a hunting cat or her fellow professor Snape. Neville went white and quivered like a mouse. "Merlin save us all, foolish boy, but you nearly killed us with your scatterbrain ways!"

"Sorry," Neville muttered to his fuzzy slippers.

"Oh you'll be sorry all right, boy," growled the Deputy Headmistress. "All of you stay here, I must alert the Headmaster. Perhaps we can still locate him." She darted a swift glance at Harry, who was still holding Rosie. "Snape, may I borrow your beagle? I promise no harm will come to her."

Harry nodded. Then he released Rosie and snapped a leash to her collar. "Here you go, Professor. Be good, Rosie, and find Black, okay?"

Rosie wagged her tail, bayed loudly, then pulled Minerva out the portrait hole, eager to hunt down the stranger that had invaded her home.