Harry Potter was walking through the unurbanized part of Little Whinging, ignoring the coldness and strong wind piercing his exposed skin, mainly his face and hands. Surprisingly a cold front had come in a few hours ago and now it was getting to its worst. Normally, if he had been wearing a coat or long sleeve shirt, he might have been alright but as he was wearing neither and didn’t even have one, even at his relatives house, he was obliged to walk about slightly shivering in the cold afternoon.

"What are you doing?" The voice asked him and Harry, who was used to the voice, answered back.

"Taking a walk," Harry told it, but in his mind, where the voice was.

He wondered when all of the new houses, buildings and stores had been built. During the summer breaks, he had never really gotten out of Privet Drive or let alone Number Four so he had no recollection of anything being built. He remembered when he was little and used to go "exploring" all of the town and most of it was rural, but now, it was the complete opposite. There was a large mall where tall trees, vines and bushes used to be. There was a whole new neighborhood with black Cadillacs and carpet grass where a fifty acre corn field used to be. Harry remembered it was that particular cornfield where he used to go and lay in the middle of it, deciding what the clouds above him resembled. But now there weren’t any vines or clouds. There was nothing. Even though it had all been taken over by industrialization, it was completely barren to him now.

"It's all gone," Harry told the voice.

As he stood on a large, tall hill that overlooked the last remaining cornfield for miles around, he felt ironic. Being so high at elevation, but yet so low in mood. For weeks now, he had felt so alone, so miserable at home, causing him to just lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling. Or perhaps, even on a better day he would lay on his side, so numb that he thought about nothing. Nothing at all, he would just stare into oblivion and forget everything; who he was, what he was doing and why he was even doing it at all [not that he knew].

For a few moments, or even hours, he sat on a rock at the peak of the hill and watched the cars drive by on the highway wondering about the muggles driving them. Where were they going? What was their purpose there and who was going with them? Though trying not to admit it, he desperately wished someone would get into a crash, but not die though, so he could rush down and worry for them. At least, he would get to feel something today, and see something exiting at the same time. But nothing of the sort happened.

He decided that since it had already begun to drizzle a little, he might as well walk back home since his aunt hated it when his shoes got muddy and he walked all over the carpet. He knew he could never blame it on Dudley since his shoe was obviously several sizes larger and the one time he tried and his uncle found out, he was forced to clean out the basement, mow the lawn then repaint the living room.

However, as he was walking home using the alley shortcuts through town, he heard someone, or people behind him. It was a fairly damp and dark alley, if he screamed no one would hear him. He hoped they were just looking for someone to beat up since he didn’t have any money with him and he wondered if they were muggers and found no money, what they would do besides just beating him up.

"They're following you," the voice said.

When he heard someone kick a can out of the way, he began to quicken his pace holding his breath and counting, not really knowing why though, probably just to loosen the anxiety. He was almost in the light. One Two Three-

"Hold his arms!" He heard someone say as another grabbed him by the collar. He could smell the cigarettes and liquor on their breath. He could smell the sweat in their hair and he could hear the wheezy breathing coming from the boy, about 18, feeling around in his pockets.

"I don’t have any money-"

"Shut up," the bald boy with a tattooed head said and punched him squarely in the face. Harry was very much used to blows not only to the face but several other body parts from his cousin. Though Dudley never really hurt him bad, just to move him out of the way or make him shut up or calm down in the middle of the night when he would have nightmares and scream or cry loud enough to wake his cousin who was sleeping in the next room, he recovered quickly and glared at the empty handed 18 year old boy who now grunted as he pulled his hand out from Harry's pocket.

"Are you hurt badly?" The voice asked concerned.

"No," Harry told him reassuringly. "Not that bad."

"He's got nothing," he said disappointedly to his comrades and shoved Harry against the wall, making his head hit the brick hard, and spit on him. Then another boy, one he hadn’t seen came at him with a knife and held it at his throat but Harry closed his eyes shut...

"It's ok," the voice told him. "They're gone. Open your eyes now."

Harry, who was grateful that they didn’t stab him or beat him up, watched them go and it was only then did he realize how much bigger they were compared to him. He realized that they probably didn’t even feel him try to struggle or squirm from the headlock he had just received.

"Did you run into a little girl," Dudley laughed as Harry, who had finally made it home, came through the kitchen door for tissue for his bloody nose and aspirin for his throbbing skull.

"He's mocking me," Harry told the voice.

"Ignore him," the voice ordered.

He didn’t say anything to Dudley, he just browsed through the drawers and found nothing that would be any help to him. Frustrated, he marched out of the kitchen and went to the upstairs bathroom to see if there was any pain reliever in the cabinet. However, like his 18 year old friend, he didn’t find anything.

Realizing that there probably wasn’t any at all in the house, he washed his face and wiped the blood, dried and sticky, away from the bottom of his nose and leaned closer to the mirror and peered at his reflection.

The bruise wasn’t as bad as it felt. It was just a little red now and Harry, who knew the pain in this head wasn’t from the punch but from his head when it hit the wall, rubbed the back of his skull and found there was more blood on his hand when he looked at it.

"What happened to you," Dudley asked as he appeared in the doorway. Harry jumped and turned around and saw the smile on his face. He was smiling, not concerned. He wasn’t concerned that he came home with a bloody nose and a concussion. He didn’t care that he was almost stabbed. He didn’t care that he was punched and pushed and spit on.

"Get out of here, Dudley." Harry made his words strong and firm. He was angry and wanted to be alone. However, Dudley's smile widened.

"What, are you going to cry now?" He laughed. "Are you going to cry like you do at night? You really are pathetic-"

"SHUT UP!" Harry yelled and pushed Dudley out of the door. However, Dudley stopped laughing and marched back to Harry and grabbed his shirt.

"Don’t you ever push me," he said angrily, and then he punched Harry in the ribs so hard there was a small crack and Harry fell to his side and couldn’t breath for a little while.

"Get out," Harry croaked and Dudley gave one last kick to Harry's shin and walked out of the restroom and made his way down to his own room.

"Are you ok?" The voiced asked.

Harry was still on the floor, trying to get back up when he heard Dudley walking down to hall going downstairs. Then there was a click, a faint click that he felt more that he heard.

Something snapped.

He didn’t even know he was going to do it, it just happened. He didn’t even know he had pushed himself off of the floor just as Dudley walked past the door, not even glancing at him. Harry stumbled first a bit, but when he regained strength, he walked to where Dudley was right about to go downstairs...he was at the top of the flight and Harry didn’t even know what he was doing. He didn’t even know he had done it until he blinked and saw Dudley lying in an awkward position at the bottom of the stairs, a trickle of blood flowing out of his mouth.

It took several minutes for Harry to understand the entire situation. And when he did, the dirties feeling crept over him. He began breathing in uneven gasps.

"Maybe he isn’t dead," the voice told him. "You should check-"

Harry, who he himself didn’t really believe it would work, stood and looked around the hallway, making sure no one was there even though he knew there wasn’t anyone in the house. He looked at his watch, it was 2:08, his aunt and uncle left around eleven and it took thirty minutes to get to the mall, but Harry knew he had to do it fast if he wanted to be dead by the time they got home. But how? He walked to his aunt and uncles room and sat on their bed that was made up nice and neat with its silky sheets and clean scent. He laid back and thought of ways.

"Will you help me think of a way?" Harry asked.

"Fine," the voice said. "But there probably aren’t many ways that are painless and clean."

"Don’t forget quick, either."

"How about death by hanging? It’s clean and quick but it isn’t exactly easy and I don’t know if it was painless or not. What do you think happens in that split second your head breaks away from the spinal cord?

He tumbled off of the bed and began looking through her things. First the closet- nothing, then he began looking through her drawers.

In the second drawer, he pushed several of her shirts to the side but stopped when he hit something hard and it made a noise as if beads were in it. He dug his hands in the clean apparel and found an orange prescription bottle with white pills that filled to the top.

"What are those for?"

Harry knew they were the pills his aunt was prescribed after she miscarried her baby. He stared at it for a long while. "For me...No scarf."

He closed the drawer and took the bottle to their restroom. He scavenged around and found a cup and filled it with the water from the sink and went back to the bed and sat. He put the bottle and the cup of water on the nightstand and stared at it for a long time.

"I'm doing everyone a favor," he told himself more than the voice. Harry found himself crying again and snatched the bottle and opened it, 'push and turn' exactly like it said. He lingered for a moment wondering if he was being weak getting the easy way out, but dumped a pill on his hand anyway deciding that he wouldn’t care less when he was dead.

He put one pill in his mouth and tasted the bitterness of it, then swallowed and had a sip of water. He took two more and then two more then dumped a pile into his hand and threw them in his mouth and finished it off with some more water. Handful, then another then half of one, the last of them and after he drank the last of the water, he laid back in his aunt and uncles bed deciding this is where he wanted to do it. He wanted to die here since he had died all this summer locked away in his room and he had died in the cupboard when he was little and now, he wanted to die on the nice bed with its silky sheets and clean scent. It was almost comforting. It was something he had never done before; lie on a nice bed.

He had stopped crying now.

He closed his eyes and waited. He wondered if there really was a light at the end of the tunnel like they said or if it was all a lie to just try and make themselves feel better. He wondered if Death would even take the time to come and sever his head with he sickle he carried. He wondered what would happen to him once he died. Would he join the others on the other side of the veil or just vanish into oblivion. Either of the two possibilities would satisfy him, as long as he was dead and away from here.

"Yes," the voice said gently.

Then he felt a little strange, as if something were funny. His senses were tingling. It felt a little cold so he turned to his side, but found himself being dizzy as if he had fallen a few feet. He found it terribly difficult to open his eyes, but once he did, everything was blurry and he just waited for them to get heavier and heavier and eventually they shut. He shivered a little and then felt himself floating on a cloud. It was a wonderful floating feeling. He just stopped thinking all together and felt himself float away on the cloud, or even the raft as it went away with the receding tide out into the endless blue....

But someone was shaking him, trying to pull him off from the raft. He couldn’t make out who was screaming from far away or who was shaking him and crying. He couldn’t open his eyes to see who was disturbing him, but he did eventually see a light, it was bright and he saw it through his eyelids..... They were telling him to come back, who ever it was and he tried to move his lips, to tell them it was too late...but he was already gone.

His lips felt funny. He tasted something like paste in his mouth and his throat hurt. He heard the beeping, he felt something small and cold in his arm and something closed around his finger. He felt plastic around his wrist and again, he saw the same light through his eyelids. He groaned and shifted. His head pounded.

"He’s waking," he heard soft whispers that weren’t far away anymore, but close to him. And it wasn’t the voice. Half of him felt like he was still on the raft and half of him felt like he had drowned and he wanted his body to choose for him where he was supposed to be.

"Harry," he heard a man say. "Wake up now." Harry groaned and shifted again, his eyes were shaking and finally they opened.

A middle aged man was peering into his face. He had white hair and wrinkles on his forehead and under his eyes. He put his thumb under Harry's eye and shone a light in front of it, then he did the same for the other. Harry was cold and nervous. He just wanted to fall back asleep, and maybe if he did, he would find the raft again and escape-

"Do you know where you are?" The man asked seriously and sat on his bed and held a stern gaze with him. Harry of course knew he was in a muggle hospital and he nodded.

"Do you remember what happened?" Harry, who unfortunately did, nodded again. He wished he didn’t remember though.

"Tell me what happened." Harry opened his mouth to try and protest, that he didn’t want to talk about anything but nothing came out. He found his throat incredibly dry and he tried to swallow the paste he felt, but every time he did, there was still some there.

"Tell me, Harry, what you did." Harry began to feel pain in his chest, and not from his broken ribs, but from despair. He knew no matter how long he laid there without speaking, the old man would continue to push him.

"I killed him," he croaked. "I killed Dudley." Harry waited for the man to nod, but he didn’t.

"From the beginning, try and tell me what happened." Harry tried to think of where to begin, but couldn’t.

"I..W-...I got beaten up a little," he started hoping that this was a good place to start. "I came home and Dudley laughed at me then I went upstairs to clean myself up and he came and taunted me, made me angry and we fought a little and he punched me in the ribs and I fell down." Harry swallowed more paste and continued. "Then he went to his room and I tried to get back up and when I did, he passed the restroom in the hall and I... I followed him and I ...I think I pushed him down the stairs."

"You think you pushed him down the stairs?" Harry nodded and looked down to his hands. They were so white...

"I don’t really remember myself at all pushing him, only he was in front of me, then at the bottom of the stairs, dead." The old man nodded.

"Then what did you do?" Harry sunk into the hospital bed and clenched his fists. He wished he could just feel numb like he had before....

"Harry, what did you do next?"

"What do you think I did," he quietly snapped without looking at the doctor.

"You tell me." And the doctor smiled patiently for Harry to speak, but he didn’t.

"What did you do next, Harry-"

"I took my aunts pills, all right." And Harry looked away from the doctor and his hands off to the side to hide the tears in his eyes but froze when he saw shadows from the curtained windows outside of the room.

"Why?" The doctor asked and Harry looked back at him, not really knowing what to say, then he glared at the man for not letting him die.

"I already told you!" He yelled. "I killed m-"

"Oh, he isn’t dead, Harry." Harry, who didn’t believe him, shook his head.

"No, I saw it. He was at the bottom of the stairs and he had blood coming from his mouth-"

"He got a concussion and bit his tongue when he hit the floor," the doctor said. "He's already being released in an hour or two." Harry took in a slow deep breath, exhaled and looked away.

"Can I be released too?" He saw the doctor shake his head.

"Not now," he said. "First I need to hear you say what you did." Harry narrowed his eyes and focused on a counter that was at the side of the room.

"I overdosed."

"How," the doctor asked and Harry wondered if he was mentally challenged.

"With pills obviously," Harry snapped.

"Why?" And Harry, now angry with frustration turned back to the doctor and gave him an ugly look.

"For the what? Third time? I told you! I thought I killed him! Why cant you understand the simple words I'm telling you?" Harry began breathing hard and fast and before long, his chest hurt and he had tears down his face again. The whole time the doctor remained seated on the bed calmly looking at him patiently, waiting for him to calm down. When he did, the doctor spoke.

"Now," he began. "I need to hear you tell me what you did to yourself." Harry's chest tightened and he closed his eyes.

"I overdosed."

"What did you try and do?" Harry took in a deep breath of the clean air that smelled like alcohol.

"I tried to...to kill myself. I wanted to die." Harry opened his eyes and looked at the doctor who merely nodded.

"Now I want you to tell me why you wanted to die," he calmly said.

"I don’t know," Harry told him.

"Was it because of your godfather?" Harry looked back up at him. The Dursley’s didn’t know about Sirius.

"How do you know about him?" He asked.

"A few friends of yours told me he had recently died." And Harry went cold. They were here....

"A few friends?" The doctor nodded.

"They arrived a few hours ago, they're outside now. Several of them too," the doctor chuckled. Harry went colder and colder and then he heard the beeping noises from his IV get a little faster, then faster.

"Calm down son," the doctor said. "Would you like sedatives?" Harry nodded and the doctor injected something into his IV and Harry felt himself beginning to feel calmer and calmer. It felt good, but not as good as the raft. Then the doctor patted his arm.

"My name is Doctor Ryan, Harry. If you need anything, tell a nurse to contact me." And he turned and as he was walking to the door, Harry stopped him.

"Doctor Ryan?" He turned.

"What do you need, Harry?"

"What is this paste stuff in my mouth?" Ryan smiled and walked to the sink and filled a small cup with water and walked back to Harry with it and also a small tub.

"We needed to push a tube down your throat to pump it," he said handing Harry the cup to rinse. "The paste was added to the tube to protect your esophagus and help it slide down easier and quicker." Harry rinsed and spit the water into the tray and laid back in bed.

"Are you tired?" The doctor asked and Harry nodded.

"Then you better get some rest. I wont let anyone see you until then." And he walked to the door and turned off the light and left with the nurse Harry didn’t even know was there, leaving Harry in a semi-dark room with several blinking lights around him.

"He's asleep," Harry heard Doctor Ryan from the other side of the door say to someone. "You can see him when he wakes."

"Thank you, sir," he heard a woman say, and it sounded like Tonks. Harry's chest tightened again. Not only were the Weasleys here, the Order was probably here to. Harry turned to his side being careful not to pull the IV cords too much and sighed into his pillow. Then he silently cried, not wanting them to hear.

....

....

"I'm here."

The entire Weasley family, excluding Percy, Hermione and most of the Order were there. Seated in small uncomfortable blue waiting chairs, walking back and forth a few feet or just leaning against the wall waiting for their friend to wake up.

They had got the news a few hours ago, that he had tried to kill himself. They were all convinced it was an accident however, they didn’t want to believe the painful truth but when Dumbledore asked the Dursley’s excessively what had happened and also about his mood that summer, he was the first to realize that it was true, that Harry was in fact suicidal. The Order and his friends didn’t take it well though.

When Albus had explained the situation, based on information from the Dursley’s, only Hermione and Mrs. Weasley sobbed a little bit, but the rest were completely quiet. This was something none of them had ever dealt with before. Even the aurors who were used to unfortunate surprises had never been faced with it.

Now they were waiting for Harry to wake up. They were nervous and didn’t know how to handle the situation or how to act around him anymore. They knew there were some things they just couldn’t say anymore, things they couldn’t bring up and they all hoped something wouldn’t accidentally slip and push him over the edge again. They were desperate.

However, Dumbledore, as he paced back and fourth nervously, knew of an even bigger problem than Harry's attempt suicide. One he hadn’t informed anyone about because he didn’t think they could take it just yet, but he knew he couldn’t avoid the situation forever since it involved Harry's future living arrangements. The Dursley’s had simply refused to take him back.

He hurt Dudley, not badly, but enough to make the family realize what a potential threat Harry was to them, to his environment. The Vernon man, when Dumbledore interrogated him, he was enraged at Harry and kept making threats to kill him himself. Petunia however seemed sympathetic for Harry and her son and though she didn’t seem to want to agree with her husband on kicking Harry out, she did anyway. And Dudley, he seemed sorry. He told Dumbledore it was his fault for taunting Harry and tempting him to do what he did. He said if he hadn’t messed with him, he wouldn’t have pushed him and overdosed.

But no matter how much Dumbledore ordered, or pleaded with Vernon, he just wouldn’t have it. He said he just couldn’t have the boy living with them with his problems and all but he said he would allow Harry to fetch his things when he left the hospital but he had to do it quickly. And Dumbledore understood the mans concern for his family and after two hours of debating, Dumbledore lost and Harry had no where to go. The blood protection, the security he had when he lived at Number 4 ended swiftly and silently, like a lamb about to be sacrificed. Harry had nothing, no one and Dumbledore didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t know what to say.

They were all silent when they heard talking in Harry's room. Doctor Ryan and the nurse were in there and they could faintly hear Harry say something, then something louder as if he were upset. For what was only about ten minutes felt like years. Their hearts sank deeper and deeper and they all had seemed to have lost hope, not only for the boy but for the war that was going on.

They all went pale as Doctor Ryan came from the room and the ones sitting in the chairs stood, but Dr. Ryan held up his hand.

"He's asleep," Ryan said. "You can see him when he wakes." And as disappointed as they were they nodded until Tonks with fiery hair mustered strength to speak.

"Thank you, sir," she said and the doctor nodded and departed.

"What's going to happen now, mum?" Ron asked as they were all standing in Harry's room ignoring the Dr. Ryan’s orders about not seeing him until he was awake. Technically, they weren’t breaking any rules. They were simply waiting until he did wake up.

Mrs. Weasley, who was on the bed sitting next to Harry, who seemed to be sleeping under the blankets, shook her head.

"I don't know, dear," she said and patted Harry's arm gently. After a while, Hermione, for the first time in hours, spoke up.

"Don't they have to keep him here for a while now," she asked the adults which consisted of Mad-Eye, Tonks and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Bill and Charlie were outside the room with Ginny, the Twins and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"What are you talking about?" Tonks asked.

"You know, for observation," Hermione asked with a hint of confusion in her voice. "Isn't that muggle hospital policy, Mr. Weasley?" He nodded faintly.

"Yes," he said. "Muggle hospitals do tend to keep people who have...well, they keep them for a while to see if they have any noticeable signs that they might...do it again, yes-"

"The hell he will stay here," Mad-Eye barked. "Once the doctor says he’s ok, we're going to take him from this damn place-"

"And take him where?" Mr. Weasley asked assertively. "Dumbledore said the muggles didn’t want anything to do with him and You-Know-Who will be after him since he no longer has the blood protection from the-"

"We have to hide him," Made-Eye interrupted. "Until school starts." Then Mr. Weasley spoke again.

"Yes, but where? You-Know-Who will be looking everywhere for him. There isn’t a place in the world-"

"In the least likely place you could ever find Potter," Mad-Eye assured.

"And where is this place," Mr. Weasley asked and everyone looked at Mad-Eye hoping they would get the answer. They were disappointed for now however.

"Dumbledore says he knows of a place where no one would ever think to look," Mad-Eye told him.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley began. "But where exactly is this place?" Mad-Eye shook his head.

"He hasn’t told us yet," Mad-Eye said. "But he was convinced it was the safest place-"

"Oh!" Hermione shrieked. "Just like he was convinced Godric's Hallow was the safest place for Harry's parents? Look what happened to them! How do you know it wont happen again?" But Mad-Eye glared at her.

"There was...conflicts before. They were stabbed in the back-"

"Harry," she cried. "Was stabbed in the back! By Dumbledore! And by us too!" She began panting hard and Ron rubbed her back to try and calm her down.

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Tonks asked. "When did we, or Dumbledore ever betray Harry?" And Hermione’s face twisted as she spoke.

"This summer," she said quietly. "Now. Everyone assumed he was ok, that he was fine and well...but...but now look at him. Look where he's at." She looked down at her hands.

"He was alone for yet another month, but unlike last year, it was worse. He wanted information then, but he needed help now and no one, not even Ron or me...we weren’t there at all for him."

And no one spoke. They either looked away or sat in a chair with their heads in their hands. They knew she was right. She was exactly correct.

Harry was beginning to get uncomfortable lying in the same position and it was a little too warm under the blanket. He had been awake when they first came in, but couldn’t confront them then. And now, now that he heard the conversation that made him want to sick up, it was even harder now.

He wanted to just tell Hermione she was wrong. That they were the best friends anyone could have, but she was wrong. He was the one who betrayed them. He betrayed them all, his friends, his parents, the Order and the entire Wizarding World. He wasn’t a Gryffindor. He wasn’t a Ravenclaw; he couldn’t even be a Hufflepuff. He was lower than the Slytherins. He wasn’t a wizard. He wasn’t even himself anymore. He was a puppet. And Voldemort, Voldemort was the puppeteer, the ventriloquist.

For Harry, every second he had to keep quiet, every second he had to keep still and try not to stir, built up apprehension and he tried to fight off the sick feeling in his gut. He was embarrassed, he was marked and no matter what, no one would forget what he did. And the rest of the wizarding world, he knew the word probably got out; they would forever see him as weak and selfish. Ignorant and immature. Lazy, always wanting the easy way out. He desperately wished he hadn't done it. He wished he could just go back in time and redo what he did but he knew that was never going to happen. Ever.

If any conversation took place after this, Harry wasn’t paying attention enough to hear it. He was trying to comprehend what they had just said. The muggles kicked him out and now, Voldemort could get to him. He could even enter Number Four and the thought made Harry's stomach hurt worse. If this was true, Voldemort could easily harm the Dursleys and even though Harry wasn’t completely fond of them, he didn’t want them dying for his mistake. And what is this place Mad-Eye spoke of? Harry hoped it was somewhere relaxing. Somewhere he could clear his head and think about everything. Somewhere nice, like a remote island that was warm and sandy and had coconuts. Somewhere he could be alone, and be free for a few months. Harry desperately wished that was the place...

When Harry woke, the first thing he saw was Mrs. Weasley with a sad, concerned gaze on him. Instantly, he sat up in bed and moved away from her like she was some sort of dangerous convict and for a split second she showed the hurt caused by his action, but then she went back to her normal demeanor again. He nervously looked around the room and noticed them all looking at him. And now, Dr. Ryan was there. And the nurse too.

"It's ok," the voice told Harry. "I'm right here."

"Harry," Dr. Ryan greeted. "How are you feeling?"

No answer.

"Well I'm sure you're pleased your friends are here."

No answer.

"However, they can return in a few moments when I'm done asking you a few questions," the doctor said just as kind. Obviously taking the hint, everyone left the room, except for the nurse.

"Well Harry," the doctor began. "I hope you wouldn’t mind answering a few more questions about yesterday?" And Harry looked at him with large pleading eyes, and shook his head, but not because he was answering his question, but because he was protesting. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t speak of yesterday. Not while they were here... He didnt want to tell the doctor, and for the doctor to tell them....

"Harry?" Dr. Ryan asked when he noticed his trepidation.

"No..." he whispered nervously, but held his gaze with the doctor hoping he would understand. But he didn’t. Or maybe he did, but didn’t say anything.

"Please, Harry. Just one tiny question?" And Harry, who wanted nothing more than to leave the room, nodded after about a minute. After all, it was just a tiny question...

"Before you found your aunts pills in her drawer," and Harry deeply regretted his agreement. "What were you looking for?" And Harry shrugged.

"If you answer, he'll go away," the voice told him.

"Nothing," he said quietly, but the doctor frowned.

"Then what was your purpose at all in her bedroom if you weren’t looking for something? I believe the stairs were located at one end of the hallway, and the master bedroom at the other? I know I said only one question, but please, I know it's difficult." You have no idea, Harry thought. "But try to cooperate." And Doctor Ryan moved closer and sat at the end of the bed.

"Now," he began. "What were you looking for in her room before you found the pills? I believe Mrs. Dursley said they were safely tucked away, but if you came across them, you must have been searching for something." But again, Harry shook his head, trying to fight the nervous feeling in his stomach.

"Nothing," he lied. Doctor Ryan held his gaze on Harry for a long while before he briefly glanced away, but then he reunited with Harry's eyes and he asked again.

"There must have been something you were looking for," he pushed. "I don't believe that you just stumbled into her bottom drawer and your hand magically found the pills." When he said magically, Harry almost laughed, but he didn’t. He didn’t even smile.

"A phone perhaps? To call your relatives?" Harry shook his head hoping it would stop there. That everything would just stop. But it didn’t.

"A gun?" And Harry narrowed his eyes, shook his head and scoffed. But the doctor was convinced Harry was indeed looking for a gun.

"He think's you're crazy," the voice said. For a while, Harry thought he should leave it at that. Make the doctor think he was looking for a gun rather than something to hang himself with, but knew a shooting yourself was worse than hanging yourself. The sick feeling rose from his stomach to his chest and lingered there for a moment before Harry took a deep breath and spoke.

"A scarf," Harry told him and the doctor lowered his eyebrows.

"A scarf...?" And Harry nodded twice.

"Wh-" Then the Dr. Ryan froze his mouth as he understood and left it half open for a while, halfway through a word and looked up at the nurse that was standing against the wall. He nodded, then she nodded obviously this was some sort of signal because next, she drew out her small walkie-talkie from her nurse uniform pocket.

"Send Ms. Reeves to room 232 please," and let go of the talk button and calmly smiled at Harry as she stuck the pathetic muggle technology back in one of her front pockets.

"Who do you think Ms. Reeves is?"

"I don’t know," the voice answered.

"Harry," Doctor Ryan called. Harry, who was still trying to understand why the nurse was calling Reeves, looked back at the doctor. "Ms. Reeves specializes in youth mental health evaluations. She is going to ask you questions that you must answer as best you can, ok?" But Harry shook his head.

"No," he said. "It's not ok." But the doctor smiled sadly.

"It's not as bad as it seems. The questions are fairly simple-"

"Tiny questions, right," Harry said sarcastically but Doctor Ryan paid no attention and instead stood up and pulled a chair from the far side of the room next to Harry's bed, obviously for this Reeves broad.

Harry scoffed angrily and shook his head at they way the doctor was treating him, like if he was really some crazy kid with problems. As if he really needed to be here at all.

"What do I do?" Harry asked the voice, panicky.

"But what if it is? What if it's worse?" Harry protested. The voice didn’t answer.

Then Ms. Reeves walked in, pretty, wavy brunette hair and young around 25, holding a blue clipboard with a pink paper attached to it. She smiled at Harry, nodded at the doctor and sat down at the chair that had been previously set out for her. She crossed her legs and smoothed out her skirt before holding out her hand for Harry to shake it. He didn’t shake it though, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just cleared her throat, scooted her chair closer and remained smiling.

"Hello," she began and glanced at the paper. "Harry," she finished looking back at him with the same overly happy smile. "My name is Anni Reeves, but you can just call me Anni." Harry nodded.

"Now," she began. "There are a few questions I'd like to ask you. But before we get to that, there are a few things we should discuss before I begin." Harry nodded again.

"The questions I'm going to ask you are part of a basic psychological evaluation. Do you know what a psychological evaluation is?"

Harry, who was now fidgeting with his plastic bracelet around his left wrist, spoke. "Nope," he said, and as casual as if someone had asked him 'Have you seen my other shoe?'

"A psychological evaluation is sort of like a test, Mr. Potter. A test to determine if the patient may be diagnosed with one or more of various behavioral, emotional or mental disorders. The main three mental disorders are Depression, Bi-Polar Disorder and Schizophrenia. However, several people who feel that they may have one of the three undergo a psychological evaluation and find that they aren’t diagnosed at all." She cleared her throat again and continued.

"Do you have any questions?" When Harry shook his head, she cleared her throat yet again, and looked at her clip board for a little while, then smiled back at him.

"First, Mr. Potter," Anni said kindly. "I'd like to start off with some simple yes/no questions."

"Sure," Harry agreed and sat up straight in the hospital bed.

"First question," she began. "Have you thought of committing suicide before?"

"This is going to be horrible," Harry commented.

"No," he said clearly, though his mouth was dry and his hands were sweaty. He wished nothing more than to be away from here. He could feel the choking feeling in his throat rise. He could even hear and feel his own pulse... and Anni, she just marked his answer on the paper that was attached to the clipboard and smiled back up at him, ready for the second question. Knowing how bad and unnecessary the entire situation was, he just decided to take the voice's advice, ignoring his intense mixed emotions and the horrible sick feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"Have you ever had any other suicide attempts before?"

"No," Harry said, thinking if that he had said 'no' to the last question, why he was being asked this one. However, he felt sweat between his fingers and thought if he began to rub his hands, it would appear as if he were nervous and he didn't want anyone to doubt his answers.

"Good Harry," the voice said encouragingly. "Just like that, and you'll be done with this. Possibly even out of the hospital as well. Just a few more." But Harry knew the voice was just trying to make him feel better.

"This next question Mr. Potter will allow me to determine which questions will be appropriate to ask later on during the test." She fidgeted in her seat and continued.

"Are you sexually active?" And Harry, though he felt like his heart couldn’t sink any lower or his throat couldn’t hurt any more, found himself trying not to smile. He felt himself turning red with embarrassment.

"No," he mumbled and waited for the next question.

"More recently, do you find yourself engaging in inappropriate activates such as drinking, using drugs, illegal drugs or sex?"

"No," Harry told her and Anni glanced at her clipboard then looked back at him. He felt too warm with his legs under the blanked and wished someone would lower the a/c in the entire hospital.

"Now Mr. Potter, these questions may take a little more effort to answer. And instead of yes/no, I'd like you to answer them on a scale of one through five. One being never, two being rarely, three being sometimes, four being most of the time and five being always. Was that clear to you?" Harry nodded.

"First question," she began. "On a daily basis, do you have trouble getting dressed?"

"Zero," he said, thinking that was such a dumb question.

"See how easy that last question was? It'll be much easier now, don't worry." The voice told him comfortingly.

"Do you have dizzy spells?"

"Zero," he said not knowing if he liked being asked overly personal questions better than obvious questions like the ones he was being asked now.

"Do you have trouble walking in circles?"

"Zero" Harry answered, wondering if she was just making things up to be funny. But she looked quite serious.

"Do you often have strange mood swings? Like being happy one minute, then angry the next?"

Harry didn’t know if he should answer zero or four. Often, he did have these mood swings.

"What should I say?" Harry asked the voice. "I do have them a lot."

"Say two," the voice said. "It's not that bad. I'm sure everyone has them anyway, and if you say zero, it might seem like you're lying."

"Two," Harry told Anni, taking the voice's suggestion, and Anni smiled and marked it on her clipboard.

"Do you now think or engage in sexual activities more often now than before?"

"Zero," he said, feeling as if he could be sick. Frustration and embarrassment arose in his stomach more than ever.

"Do you often feel like you haven’t accomplished anything great in your life and never will?"

"Zero," he told her, though he felt worthless most of the time. He was glad she was a muggle and didn’t know of his destiny, or about the prophecy or about anything like that.

"Have you ever cut, scratched or purposely harmed yourself? If so, one through five."

"Zero," he said, finding this question extremely easy even though it was still quite personal.

"Do you often have trouble making new friends or meeting new people?"

"Zero," Harry told her.

"Just a few more now," the voice said again and Harry was glad the voice was there to push him along. He wondered how much harder it would be if the voice wasn’t with him.

"Do you ever feel sad, blue, unhappy or 'down in the dumps'?"

"I cant lie on this one," Harry told the voice.

"Three is reasonable," the voice said to him and Harry found he thought the same, even though he felt it should be five.

"Three," he lied.

"Do you feel tired, having little energy, or fatigued?"

"One," he said, hoping that was normal.

"Do you ever feel uneasy, restless or irritable?"

"One," Harry told her, knowing for a fact that everyone felt these things from time to time.

"Do you have difficulties making decisions?"

"Zero," he told Anni calmly, finding himself less and less nervous and sick.

"Do you have trouble sleeping or eating whether it being too little or too much?""What do I say?" Harry asked the voice. The right answer should have been five, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer correctly.

"Three," the voice told him. And Harry answered what the voice told him to answer.

"Do you feel that you are not enjoying the activities that you used to?"

"Zero," Harry said, knowing he never really enjoyed much activities to begin with.

"Do you ever hallucinate, like seeing or imagining things that aren’t there?"

"Zero," Harry said, knowing it might as well be a yes/no question since if you answered at least a one, there was obviously something wrong with you.

"Just one more question, Mr. Potter." Anni said and Harry felt relieved, as if he had just emerged from being under for a minute, then took a breath.

"See," the voice told him. "That wasn't as bad as you thought. It's already the last question. You can do it."

"Do you hear voices in your head?" Anni asked.

"No," Harry lied, and as calmly as ever. Anni smiled, marked the last question on her clipboard, shook hands with the doctor and left.

"See Harry," Doctor Ryan said once Anni was gone, and he and the others entered. "It wasn't that bad." And Harry felt embarrassed with his comment, like Harry was a little kid getting a shot on his arm.

Harry didn’t know where to look now. He would feel stupid if he looked around the room at the others and feel like he was making them believe he was hiding something if he looked down and messed around with his hospital bracelet.

"What am I supposed to do now," Harry asked the voice.

“How are you feeling, Harry dear?”

“Fine,” Harry mumbled, gaining more confidence to look up at her. She was smiling faintly at him and gave rubbed his shoulder gently for a few moments. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mad-Eye and Tonks standing near the door, whispering quietly to each other. He hadn’t even realized his head had moved completely towards them until he saw them stop whispering and move away from one another, as if they were hiding something.

Harry looked down at his hand and found it red. He then knew he was probably tugging at the plastic hospital bracelet they put on patients the entire evaluation, but hadn‘t known he was even doing it.. Thinking it was probably stretched a little, he tried to pull it off but it still wouldn’t slide off and this just made his hand redder.

“What time is it?” Harry asked looking around at the people who were looking at him. There wasn’t a single clock in the room, and he wondered if it was around a meal time because he felt strangely empty, but not like he had been all summer, but because he was hungry.

“It’s almost eight past morning,” Mr. Weasley informed him, looking at his watch.

Harry was surprised it was so late. He thought it was around noon, one at latest. He wondered how long he had been sleeping and how long he had been there. A day? Two?

Minutes passed, but for Harry they seemed like hours. He wanted them to say something. To yell, scold, anything. But there was a part of him that wanted to say something as well. That he was sorry, maybe. That it wont happen again. That it was a spur of the moment thing. But he didn’t know exactly what to say. He knew they didn’t either. What would anyone say at a time such as like that?

“Perhaps.”

It took a while for Harry to think of what to say. He wanted it to be half an apology and half an explanation, but he didn’t think he could explain. He, himself didn’t even know why he did it. Thinking he could go along with the way it went, he spoke.

“I-” he began, but Hermione cut his sentence off.

“Can we be alone with Harry for a little while?” Hermione asked all the adults in the room. “Me and Ron, I mean.” And Harry was thankful that she was trying to imagine how awkward it was for him to have them there.

They gave each other a questioning glance and Mad-Eye nodded and they each departed. Mad-Eye, Tonks then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Once the door was shut, Hermione turned to Harry with an agonized look written on her face.

“Oh, Harry,” she cried and went over to where he was sitting and put her arms around him gently. Not knowing how to react, he rubbed her back a few times and wanted to pull away, but she was still firmly embracing him.

He let her hug him for as long as she liked, and wanted to see what Ron was doing but his face was buried in her bushy hair and all he could see was stringy brown.

It was several moments later when he felt his neck becoming wet and knew it wasn’t because he was sweating.

“Don’t cry, Hermione.” He told her gently and he heard her sniffle.

“I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you,” she said unevenly and slowly let go of him and pulled away. Harry found that he no longer felt the same way as earlier about the situation. They way she said it actually made him believe they were bad friends and he didn’t even bother saying what he wanted to say earlier. Though he knew he was being selfish, he wondered why they hadn’t come to check on him at least once.

“What happened,” Hermione asked after Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to tell her about it. About how Dudley provoked him and how he didn’t even know he had pushed Dudley until he was laying at the bottom step. How he wanted to hang himself at first before he found his aunts anti-depressants. And even about his voice. He knew he would never tell her, or them or anyone else for that matter.

However, right on cue, the nurse from before walked in the room with a new IV. Harry looked at his current one and found it was almost completely empty.

“Do I have to have another one,” Harry asked the nurse as she was taking the old one out. “They make my arm cold.”

“Yes,” she said without looking at him. “You have to.” And she replaced it.

Harry looked at where they inserted the needle. In one of the veins on the front of his hand. Tape held it in place and it was noticeably red. It hurt a little too and when Harry moved the needle around with his finger, he felt it as it moved from side to side.

“Don’t mess with that,” the nurse scolded, and left.

“Can we call the lot in here?” Ron asked Harry after a few minutes.

“I don’t care,” Harry lied and Ron went to go fetch them. Minus Tonks and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Ginny and the twins came in with Mad-Eye.

Harry noticed how the twins smiled at him as if nothing had happened and wished everyone else would act the same way instead of treating him like he was crazy.

“Hey Harry,” Bill greeted and Harry shook hands with him, but with the hand that wasn’t freezing from the IV.

“Hi Bill,” he replied and Harry patiently waited for someone to do something. Mr. Weasley came in the room, that was about it…

“When can I leave from here?” Harry asked either Mad-Eye or Mr. Weasley casually and the two men looked at each other.

“The doctor said that none of his internal organs were affected by the pills,” Mr. Weasley said to Mad-Eye and Harry’s stomach churned.

“Isn’t that what you wanted,” it asked. Harry didn’t reply.

“Then until Dumbledore gives the ok to move him,” Mr. Weasley asked and Mad-Eye nodded.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Mad-Eye told Harry. “The hospital probably wont want to release you for a few weeks, so we’re just going to have to take you. It’s not like they can find us anyway.” And Harry smiled for the first time in a long time. It was almost funny the way Mad-Eye said it.

“But Harry,” Mr. Weasley began. “You should know your relatives said they wouldn’t take you back.”

“I figured,” Harry mumbled.

“So you really aren’t protected at your aunts house anymore-”

“Or anywhere else,” Mad-Eye interrupted. “Dumbledore said you’re going to have to be hidden until what I’m thinking, school starts.”

Harry listened as they told him what he already knew, what he had overheard from earlier. There wasn’t that much conversation after that and Harry was glad they didn’t press the issue of his suicide attempt at all. He hoped that they had just forgotten completely, but knew that was unlikely.

At ten, a nurse came in with a food tray and most of them left except for Ron and Hermione who said they would stay there overnight with him. He was ok with the idea and didn’t object since he really didn’t want to be alone in the hospital room all night.

The meal was surprisingly good, even though Harry had heard from muggles that hospital food was quite disgusting. It was a lot too. There was a small carton of milk, a small carton of apple juice, water, meatloaf, a roll, mashed potatoes, green beans, pudding and a small cold brownie and while he ate Hermione sat by him and read a book while Ron walked around the room and messed with random hospital supplies.

When he got drowsy, he went to the bathroom dragging the monitor that the IV was attached to. He washed his face and when he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed he was slightly paler.

He was satisfied with the way everything had turned out today. It really wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be and he was pleased that he didn’t have to confront any of them, excluding Ron and Hermione, but that was hardly a confrontation at all. He wondered what everyone thought of him now.

Harry peered at his reflection in the mirror for a long time.

“What are you thinking about?” The voiced asked Harry, who was seated apprehensively on his hospital bed, looking at the door, waiting for someone to come in.

“The doctor wanted to put me on anti-depressants,” Harry told him.

“I know,” it replied. “A bit ironic, isn’t it?”

But Harry wasn’t paying attention, he was thinking of what was yet to come and what had already happened.

...Several minutes ago, only Harry, Mad-Eye and the doctor were in the room and Mad-Eye, who had fooled the entire medical staff with faux documents stating that Harry was his nephew and under his care, stood seeming bored waiting for the doctor to speak.

“I believe it is in Harry’s best interest if he were put on ant-depressants,” the doctor told him in a very business-like tone.

“Of course,” Mad-Eye said vaguely and nodded.

“And it would be best if he stays here for four weeks for observations, and to see how his medication is affecting him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever he needs.”

“And therapy sessions while he is here would be good for him,” the doctor added.

“Right,” Mad-Eye agreed, but vaguely.

Harry, who sat, finding the current situation humorous wondered if he was going to wake up from this dream he was having already. He wondered if that whole day of boredom had actually happened because it was hardly believable that he was learning he was going to have to stay here for almost a month.

“You really aren’t going to make me go through with that,” Harry asked Mad-Eye once the doctor had left. He just raised an eyebrow however.

“The hell you are,” he grunted and Harry felt relieved. “I just agreed with the doctor so he wouldn’t get in the way later.” He coughed and continued.

“Dumbledore is already here, and he’s given the ok to take you, but he said he wanted to speak to you first.”...

Then again, Harry thought of what had just happened a few moments ago again, but only to stop himself from thinking about what was going to come.

“He just wants to talk,” the voice tried to comfort, but didn’t say the rest since the doorknob was being turned.

“Harry,” Dumbledore greeted and closed the door behind him.

As he waited for Dumbledore to speak, he wiped his sweaty hands on his knees and tried to build a wall around himself, but he knew there was no avoiding the situation. However, Dumbledore walked to the end of Harry’s bed and placed a hand on the metal frame.

“So Harry,” Dumbledore said sadly. “Here you are, for the reason we’d never thought you’d be here for.”

“I’m sorry professor,” he began, but was interrupted.

“You must understand that I cannot find it in my heart to blame you for what happened the other day, but I will say this.” And he moved his hand from the cold metal frame to where Harry’s foot lay under the blanket.

“I was thoroughly convinced from our discussion last term that you would be able to handle this anguish well, that in time you would have healed”

“Professor, I-” but he was cut off again as Dumbledore raised a hand up to quiet him.

“But it seems I was wrong in my judgment and I must admit I should be the one to blame for your misery, as I have not experienced a great loss in some time, however,” and here, Harry saw the alteration in his demeanor and instead of a sad gaze, it was stern scrutiny.

“You were, without a doubt responsible for your own actions and I declare my disappointment that in your grief, you failed to contact me or even one of your friends and let them know how you were really feeling and what exactly your intentions were-”

“But-”

“And I cannot have this lack of communication from you to ensue any further and here, I must hear from you that this will never happen again.”

Harry, who didn’t know if ‘this’ meant his distance from everyone or his suicide attempt. However, he didn’t think he could promise that neither might happen again, but to relieve the pressure he was being put under, he nodded and Dumbledore patted his foot twice.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said and nodded.

“Well, I’m afraid that we simply cant apparate you from here,” he said. “There are cameras all over the place and to have a muggle see such a thing would be disastrous, so until we can get you to an elevator with no cameras…” and Dumbledore walked to the door and opened it.

“Have you found one, yet,” Harry heard him ask and couldn’t hear the response to his question, but a few moments later, Mad-Eye, Tonks, George, Mr. Weasley, Ron and Hermione came into the room and George tossed Harry what seemed to be a t-shirt and jeans.

“Here,” he said. “You might want to change from that dress before you go.”

The plan was simple. Make it to the end of the long ward, where the elevator was, go to the fourth floor which was one floor down, and make it to the elevator which was at the end of that ward and that elevator was the closest without a camera and once they were safely inside, they would apparate.

Harry was to along side apparate with Mad-Eye, Ron with Mr. Weasley and Hermione with Tonks. George was there to help if anything went wrong.

But first off, Harry was to remove the IV from his hand. But everything had to be quick since the doctor really didn’t specify when he would be back.

“Ready Potter?” Mad-Eye asked and Harry nodded and began to peel of the tape, then when only the needle was still in his vein, he took it out, but wrong and a small amount of blood squirted to the floor.

“Come,” and he followed everyone out of the room.

The ward, which had a few seats next to every door as well as posters of overly-happy actors hugging their friends, seemed to be empty, besides a nurse talking with another at the end, but fortunately, it was at the end they didn’t need to go. It smelt to clean to Harry in a way. Too clean and alcohol.

In a huddle, they made it down the hallway smoothly and once in the elevator, Tonks pressed the fourth floor button and Harry felt himself being moved down. Everything was going as smoothly as they hoped and Harry was glad for that. Then it stopped and once the doors opened they all stepped out and began walking to the last elevator when the sound of Harry’s name was being called.

“Harry!” Doctor Ryan called about twenty feet away. “Stop!” But they didn’t, they began to quicken the way they walked, almost like a run and nurses moved out of the way for them.

“No,” the doctor cried at the nurses. “Stop them! Security!” And as they heard people running to them, they pressed the button for the elevator but the sign above said it was still on the fifth floor and they had to wait anxiously for it to come to their floor.

The guards were so close….

Doctor Ryan was making his way too them…

The guards were a few meters away….

Five…four….three meters….

Then the elevator doors opened slowly and they made their way in, but had to push a young couple out and once the elevator doors closed, the trio grabbed on to whoever they were assigned to and they were gone.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were still laughing even after they let go of whoever they were along side apparating with.

"What's funny?"

"I escaped from the hospital."

Harry's first thought was that they had apparated to The Burrow, since it was the most obvious place. But then suddenly, he thought it should smell like cinnamon now, since that was what The Burrow smelt like, but it didn’t smell like it at all, or any other spice. It smelt dusty and moldy and once he looked around the room everyone was standing in, he wanted nothing more than to just go back to whatever hospital he was at. Intensive Psychotherapy would have been better than this, he thought, but he knew it was too late to tell Mad-Eye that.

"Where are you?"

"At my godfather’s house," Harry replied.

The hallway of Number 12 Grimmauld Place was exactly the same as it had been the last time Harry was there. The wallpaper was faded and about ready to just fall off, the chandelier was still dusty with cobwebs, the paintings were barley visible and still, it was so dark. Even after the old lamps flickered on. Harry backed away but bumped into Mad-Eye's broad chest and jumped. However, Mad-Eye just looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Move along, Potter," he said and pushed Harry farther into the hallway and he heard voices in the dining room, but decided to follow Ron, George and Hermione upstairs.

The stairs creaked with every step and movement. Harry watched their shadows dance along the peeling wall and once they were headed to the bedroom where Ron and Harry had slept when they were here, Harry grew tense as he passed what he knew to be as Sirius' room. With a small glance at the door, he then sped up his pace and walked on the right of Ron rather than behind him.

Once they were in the room, Ginny and the Fred were there as well and once Ron closed the door, George went over to Fred’s side and Hermione leaped at Harry and gave him an awkward hug.

“Again?” he thought.

"Oh Harry," she began and Harry wanted to push her away since he knew what she was going to say, but she let go when she felt him tense. "Tell me everything. What you were feeling and what you were thinking when you swallowed those stupid pills. It won’t happen again." No, Harry thought. It wont...He knew if he ever did try to do what he did again, he would succeed at it but right now, he really didn’t have any plans to do it again anyway.

"How about we go downstairs instead and make Mum cook food-"

"Ron," Hermione said annoyed. "There’s a meeting going on right now. Are you mental? Anyway, I’d rather talk with Harry-”

"Maybe later would be a better time-"

"Ron!" She interrupted. "I'm only doing my duty as a friend-"

"Then start by shutting the hell up! If Harry wants to talk and I'm sure he doesn’t, then let him be, Hermione!" And she pushed him hard and he stumbled against the wall, and then made a rude hand gesture at her. She scoffed at him, waved him off and looked back at Harry who felt as if he were about ready to crack. The new weight that was on his shoulders now was purely from the fact that he, because of what he did, caused his two best friends to fight. Even Hermione, who was rarely ever violent excluding the time when she slapped Draco, showed how hurt she had been by the whole situation. And now, there was a meeting tonight, occurring at that moment and Harry knew it was because of him. Everything bad that had happened for years now was all from his mistakes.

"Harry?" She asked, and Harry looked away and glided his index finger along the fireplace border collecting dust.

"Maybe another time," he said quietly, thankful he had Ron as a friend.

"Harry!" She cried at his refusal and Harry turned around angrily.

"What," he spat and Hermione jerked her head back as if offended. Then Ron jumped in.

"Hermione," he said aggravated. "Why don’t you go and wash your hair or something?" And Hermione who seemed fed up stormed out of the room and after sending daggers flying with her eyes at Ron, slammed the door shut. Her stomps were still heard even after she left, down the hall, into her and Ginny's room, then another door slam. Ron sighed with relief and Harry, who felt sick now, sat slowly on the bed then realized the twins and Ginny were still there.

"Don’t mind her," Ron said sitting across from Harry who was looking at his shoes, "You know she's a pisspot," and Harry laughed lightly at the term Ron had used to describe Hermione.

"Yea," he agreed shyly and rubbed his cold, sweaty hands together.

"Move along, Potter," Mad-Eye told Harry and gave him a little push. He, Tonks and Mr. Weasley watched as the trio went up the stairs, then proceeded into the kitchen where the rest of the Order was waiting to begin.

"Upstairs?" Mrs. Weasley asked her husband, and he nodded.

"But is it true?" The question was heard throughout the room, coming from an Order member by the name of Alice Lowry asking Dedalus Diggle who was seated across from her at the long kitchen table.

"Yes," Mad-Eye announced. "But that is not the main problem here," he added, and everyone shot silent questioning glances at each other.

"Then what exactly is the main problem, Moody?" Diggle asked "If not a very serious suicide attempt?" And Dumbledore, who had been watching everyone very attentively spoke up.

"Now," he began. "Everyone knows the reason that Voldemort cannot touch Harry when he is at the muggles' home. However, they have solemnly announced that he is no longer to stay there." And a rush of whispers flooded the room.

"So what you're saying is that...he has no home?"

"Partly, Ms. Lowry," Dumbledore said. "Yes, but he no longer has the blood protection he needs."

"Then why can’t he just stay at Hogwarts-"

"Because Voldemort knows that is where he will be-"

Everyone looked up, they heard stumbling as if someone had been pushed against the wall, but tried their best to ignore it.

"But he knew that last year," Lowry started again. "Why is it any different this year?" And everyone turned to Dumbledore.

"Last year," he began. "He didn’t have the strength to find a way into the school. Last year, he didn’t have almost all of the werewolves and vampires working for him. Last year, he didn’t have the same number of followers and last year, he hadn’t shown such an aptitude to capture Harry as he has shown recently, namely the incident that occurred last week at the Ministry."

Then they heard loud stomping that shook the chandelier in the kitchen, then a door slam. Then more stomping, then another door slam. Then it was finally silent.

"He can stay here cant he?" Diggles asked. "Here at headquarters." But Dumbledore shook his head.

"The current house elf that was servant here has forsaken us," he said. "And since Sirius didn’t leave a will stating where the house elf was to go, the house elf will be allowed to go with the remaining blood relatives of the Black family, The Malfoys and since it will be two months since Sirius' death the day after tomorrow, he will be allowed to leave the house and live with The Malfoys and will most likely inform them that headquarters is here." Low mummers occurred between the Order now.

"So why don’t we just kill the little demon?" Someone asked loudly.

"He has a tendency to...hide," Tonks informed them.

"So what did it feel like?" Ginny, who had been quiet the entire time, suddenly ask.

"What did what feel like?" He asked and she sat next to Ron on the opposite bed.

"When you were dying-"

"Ginny," The twins scolded simultaneously but she paid them no attention.

"So?" She asked. "Did it hurt?" Harry shook his head quietly and looked at the floor and focused on one of the small black uneven dots that were found all over the wooden floor trying to remember exactly what it felt like. He smiled.

"No," he said, referring to the question about pain. "It felt pretty good," he said now remembering the raft and how he was floating away...

They were all giving each other concerned glances, but Harry didn’t realize or care. He was still looking down at the floor at the black dot.

"So what is this safe place Harry is to stay?" Dodge asked, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"There are just some things even the Order must not know, but I assure you, it is the safest place for him now."

"Will he be attending school again, once the term starts?" Tonks asked, and Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, but he will learn everything he needs to," he stopped and positioned his half-moon spectacles and continued. "But what I need you all to know is that it will soon be reported that Harry has simply gone missing. That no one, not even I, knows where he is."

"So what do you think this place is? Some sort of new headquarters?" Ginny asked them all. Everyone shrugged.

"Maybe its Hogwarts!" Ron exclaimed and Harry, who was considering whether or not Dumbledore would allow him to live there, smiled at the idea.

When the meeting was over, only a certain few remained. Mad-Eye, Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Kingsley, Lupin, Bill, Charlie and Severus Snape. They all remained seated at the table and waited for Dumbledore to speak, but Mad-Eye beat him to it.

"So?" He asked. "The place?" Dumbledore smiled.

"Snape Manor." And everyone looked over to Snape wide eyed and wide mouthed, and he glared at Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," he began angrily, but Dumbledore raised a hand.

"Severus. I know what you're thinking," he began and Snape continued to glare. "But I feel it is the safest place-"

"How do you, Headmaster, feel that it is the safest place? What makes you think this?" He asked agitated, but Dumbledore kept on smiling.

"Who in their right minds would ever assume that he has taken refugee at your home? Of all the places, that would be the last place anyone would look. Even Voldemort-"

"And how do you know where The Dark Lord will first look? How do you know he isn’t already suspicious of me-"

"And do you feel that he is beginning to become suspicious about your loyalties?"

"No, but-"

"Severus please," Dumbledore said, raising a hand again. Snape just sulked back in his chair and moved his glare to the other Order members in the room.

"Noone would ever look there. Of all the places. He will be safe there until we can sort some things out." Then he turned to Mad-Eye.

"Alastor, go and fetch Harry, will you?" And Mad-Eye nodded and departed from the room.

And it was dead silent for a while. Lupin said he had urgent business to attend to and left, but then again no one spoke. They were all too shocked, worried or angry. Dumbledore, who was watching Snape, and how he seemed he could kill the boy himself, spoke up.

"Severus," he began. "Please. It's only temporary. He is very quiet-"

"Yes," he snapped. "He may be very quiet. But the last thing I need to do is take care of a suicidal fifteen year old-"

They were all quiet when Mad-Eye walked in the room. They all looked up at him, thinking it was Hermione but weren’t disappointed at all. The Twins stood up.

"Great," Fred said. "Is the meeting over?"

"Yes," Mad-Eye said curtly. "But everyone needs to come downstairs. It's urgent-"

"What happened?" George cut in and Ginny clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Is it Percy? Is he hurt-"

"No," and the twins did a fake 'aww', "But maybe if you come downstairs, you will find out." And he lead them down the hall and again, Harry looked away when passing Sirius' bedroom door.

Down the stairs, Harry felt strange and was apprehensive about going into the kitchen. However, right when Mad-Eye was about to open the door, Snape's voice was heard.

"The last thing I need to do," And Mad-Eye opened the door, "Is take care of a suicidal fifteen year old-" And the room fell silent when they all walked in and everyone who was already in the kitchen looked towards the door where the group was standing. Harry however, felt his heart beat stop. No, he thought and began to back out but Mad-Eye, who was keen and had quick reflexes after being an auror for several years, caught him by the arm and pulled him in.

Harry, first looked at Mrs. Weasley for support, but she was looking down. Then he looked for Lupin in the crowd. Surely he won’t allow this, but Lupin was no where to be seen and Harry felt a small pang in his stomach.

Then he turned to Dumbledore, but found none there.

"No," Harry said angrily. "I wont-"

"Harry," Dumbledore said, almost as if he were as angry as either Harry or Snape. "You will."

"Headmaster, I do believe I should be leaving now. When you're ready, you can simply floo." And Snape left without so much as a glance at the boy who hated him as much as he hated the boy.

"No," Harry began angrily when Snape was gone and Dumbledore looked as mad as he had been the night in his fourth year when they all learned of the imposter Moody-

"Hey," Hermione said as she walked in the door, but slowed her walking pace when she saw everybody's demeanors.

"What’s going on-"

"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore greeted, quickly changing his facial expression again. "I hope you will assist Harry in gathering his things-"

"I don’t have anything," Harry interrupted. "It's all at the Dursleys." But Dumbledore shook his head.

"I had Kingsley bring them over, your things are in the drawing room."

"This is ridiculous!" Harry cried and was about to say something else when Hermione spoke.

"What," Hermione cried. "Is going on?"

"Dumbledore is making me stay with, with..." But he trailed off, somehow finding it that describing it to her was just as hard as thinking about it...accepting it. "With that damn git-"

"Harry," he said sternly. "Enough of this. Go and get your things, now." And Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny left the room when Harry stalked out mumbling something under his breath.

"That, that crazy old coot!" Harry shouted as he was collecting his things that were in an unorganized pile. "That stupid damned-"

"Harry!" Hermione chastised and Harry glared at her with a parchment and old shirt in his hand.

"What?" He snapped, and Hermione snapped back.

"You don’t have to call him that. If he believes it's for the best-"

"Dammit, Hermione," Ron interfered. "You were saying the most horrible things about Dumbledore at the hospital, but now you're siding with him-"

"Oh, just shut up, Ron!" She shouted and Harry threw his things on the floor angrily.

"How about both of you, just shut the hell up? You've been fighting ever since I got out of that damn hospital! Just shut up!" And he threw the rest of his things that were in his hand into the trunk, so hard it shook it and closed, hard.

"You don’t have to talk to us like that, you know?" Hermione told him quietly, but Harry ignored her.

"I'd rather live at the Dursleys," Harry mumbled and Hermione shook her head.

"You know Harry," she began. "If you were reallythat depressed, to...to do that, you should have simply owl'd us-"

"Go to hell Hermione," Harry shouted, his head snapping up from throwing things in his trunk. "It's not like any of you have lost someone or would know how I was feeling." And he chuckled a little bit before he continued. "I can just hear you now, and he began in a mocking tone. 'Oh Harry, I know how it feels. I read about it you know, since, you know my life has been pretty good I'd thought I'd do research on it-" And Hermione slapped him, hard and Harry felt something warm trickle down his nose. She left up the stairs crying and the rest didn’t say anything, but Ron tossed him a small towel that was on a coffee table and Harry wiped under his nose and found blood when he looked at it.

"She was just trying to help, Harry." Ginny said but Harry shook his head.

"Leave me alone," he told her quietly and grabbed his trunk handle. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took in a deep breath, looking as if he were ten years older. Angrily, he threw himself on a dismal couch and put his head in his hands.

"Why are you so upset?" The voice asked.

"They're making me live with someone I hate."

"Why do you hate him so much?"

"Good question," Harry said. "I'll be sure to ask him for you."

“He can’t be that bad,” the voice insisted but Harry paid no attention.

“Come on, mate.” Ron said. “Mad-Eye said it was only for the summer. It’s not like you have to be there forever.”

“Come Potter,” Mad-Eye called from the doorway. It took Harry a little while before he actually stood from where he was sitting. With a few deep breaths, he grabbed his trunk and made his way from the room.

He just wanted to break something.

He just wanted to scream.

“This really cannot be happening,” he told the voice just as he was about to push open the door to the kitchen. The voice didn’t reply.

“You will be flooing to Professor Snape’s home, Harry.” Dumbledore said as he walked in and Harry scoffed, making Dumbledore frown, but he didn’t say anything.

Harry calmly put his trunk in the hearth and gave a small farewell smile to Ron and his friends siblings before he went and stood by Dumbledore.

As Dumbledore took a handful of the floo powder in his hand, Harry felt odd, as if he were flooing to his death, and he almost jumped from the hearth to tell Hermione he was sorry for the things he had said, but it was already to late. They were making their way through the floo network and to Snape Manor.

Snape Manor stood in the middle of the woods in the southern part of England. Though it was located in a muggle area where the majority of the population was consisted of muggles, here the old and rather peculiar house stood deep into the thicket.

Most people thought it was haunted or dangerous. Muggles didn’t dare go further than the entrance gates ten miles into the forest and no one had in over a decade which pleased the successor of the home since he would rather be left alone.

But this night, as rainy and misty as it was, this night and for several nights to come he would no longer be in solitude. Tonight he was expecting a ward that he would be guardian of for a long while. Though he was forced to take in the imposer, he agreed swiftly and here in deep regret, he paced in the main dining room that was shadowy from the lack of light the candle-lit chandelier provided, waiting for the dependant.

It wasn’t too long, however, until he heard the floo roar and saw the green flames with two figures standing in the hearth.

It took seconds before Harry's eyes adjusted to where he was. Obediently, he followed Mad-Eye out of the hearth and avoided looking at Snape, but instead around the room.

He found it, if possible, gloomier than Sirius' house. It was dim lighted and almost eerie, just like Number 12, but a bit more cryptic. There were old, moth-eaten drapes covering large windows, tattered family portraits, dusty vases with dead, decaying roses in them, bricks that were chipping from the fire place, the long wooden table in the center of the room had a thick layer or dust on it like it hadn’t been dined on in years and it's mahogany chairs that were neatly pushed in looked as if they wouldn’t support even Harry's weight.

The rusty chandelier above him looked as if it would fall down any second, the torches on the wall made him feel as if he were in some sort of dungeon as a prisoner, waiting to be executed for a crime he was falsely accused of.

"How is it?" The voice asked, but Harry didn’t bother responding.

"Severus," Mad-Eye greeted and Snape curtly nodded. It was then when Harry moved his eyes toward Snape, and it was almost as if he was pretending he wasn’t even standing there in the room at all, making Harry feel both hate and awkward. But then, he noticed something that was darkly humorous. How right the scenario was, that Snape looked as if he belonged here, shadowed in the darkness of his own home. Harry could imagine Snape sulking here day after day, being tormented and ridiculed at the sight of the empty rooms that filled the large house, with it's long, narrow wards that contained nothing besides dust and blackened paintings withering away in their old age. Harry could see Snape dwell, day in and day out, diminishing in his own seclusion, having forced to face the empty space beside him every day, and to know that no one would ever fill the void gaps in his life. Harry almost smiled.

"Karkus," Snape called to the old house elf waiting patiently in the corner of the room. "Show Mr. Potter to his room."

And Harry followed the house elf out of what seemed to be the dining room.

The long hallway that Harry found himself in instantly lit, one torch at a time. There must have been about three other doors the opposite way Harry was going and there was still a few more to be passed until he reached the staircase Karkus was leading him to.

Harry was surprised to find this ward unlike he thought it would be. He expected it to be as old and dark as the dining room, but there was more of a medieval feeling to it, like he was walking through the ruins of an ancient castle that used to have a wall around it with tall trees outside, extravagant canvases, beautiful statues and elegant landscaping designs. But he was walking in such a place that was no more. It might have been great some time ago, but what used to be, and what was left of it made Harry feel like there had been a great war that made the king flee this castle-like section of the house.

The staircase Karkus led him up didn’t creak as Harry assumed since it was, after all, made of marble. Though the marble obviously hadn’t been waxed in a good while, maybe decades, Harry noticed the fine detail of the design drawn on it. It was white, but there were extraordinary darker printings on it. Harry wanted to stop to sit and examine the stairs more closely, but Karkus was already a good way ahead, so he quickened his pace until he had to slow, or walk over Snape's house elf.

Walking up the stairs behind a house elf was something Harry had never done before. He had never noticed how ugly they looked from behind, namely this house elf. Its crusted ears and crusted feet looked like something from hell. The way it moved and walked up stairs was almost horrific. It even grunted when it made it over the last step, reminding Harry somewhat of a baby troll.

The next hallway that was located up the first floor stairs, the one Harry and Karkus had just went up, was nothing like either the last hallway or the dining room. It was a ward that might have been stolen from some remote palace. It was only dusty, like it had been abandoned for several years. Upscale paintings were still located on the walls and though they were only just a little faded, they were graceful just the same.

The wallpaper was a faded mossy pink with gold trimmings, looking hardly tacky. The mesh copper lamps above them that were separated by a several feet hung from the ceiling at brightened up the long hallway, making the few shadows visible and Harry paused to examine the small collection of fine lamps that sat on an expensive looking end table.

However, he was about to run and catch up with the lurid house elf, but noticed he had stopped in front of one of the many doors located in the hallway. He was only a few feet away and waited as the Karkus unlocked that door and opened it. Harry stood there for a few moments and realized he was holding the door open for Harry, so Harry quickly went in with his trunk.

"Thank you," he told Karkus who's grim face showed some sort of amazement, but as Harry turned to enter the room fully, he noticed it was a bedroom.

"This is where you sleep," Karkus slurred to Harry and Harry almost didn’t believe that his room would be located in the most decent part of the house he had seen so far. Karkus, who hadn’t even come in Harry's room, quietly closed the door and Harry paused to see if he was going to lock it again, but no sounds of anything like keys locking the door were heard, so Harry set down his trunk and looked around the room.

His new room was noticeably larger that his old one at the Dursleys. There was a full sized bed rather than a twin sized bed, in the center of the room. It was neatly made with off white sheets and he was surprised to find not a trace of dust on it, and he wondered if Karkus was told to get a room ready for him before he came.

There was a dark wooded wardrobe against the opposite wall of his bed that had a desk beside it. The desk was a darker color, something like ebony, with a lamp and a chair pushed in under it.

There was a door, almost completely opposite to the one he had just entered and Harry at first thinking it was a closet, opened the door and found that it was a restroom instead.

Realizing that his wardrobe was the only clothes space he had, he began putting his clothes in it and didn’t even bother to mess with the stuff under the thick layer of apparel in his trunk.

It was several minutes later when he heard his door open and quickly looked to see who it was, and found Mad-Eye there.

"I'll be leaving now Potter," he told him and Harry nodded, knowing he couldn’t do anything about having to be alone with a crazy house elf and his most hated teacher for a long while... his new home.

"Severus said he wants you to go downstairs when you're done here," and Harry nodded again and waited for him to leave the room,

"Take care of yourself, Potter," was the only thing Mad-Eye said to him before he left, making Harry, for some unknown reason, feel emptier than he had ever felt. It was just now occurring to him that this was real, everything and it wasn’t some horrible nightmare. He wouldn’t wake up, ever.

"I'm in my room," Harry told the voice, not wanting to feel alone.

"How is it?"

"Decent enough. I was expecting something less."

"How is the house?"

"It's big."

"But how is the house?"

"I haven’t seen it all."

"Then tell me about what you have seen," The voice urged.

"I've only seen the dining room apart from my room and two wards," Harry explained. “It was all right, I suppose.”

“What are you doing now?” The voice asked after a few moments, then Harry remembered he was needed downstairs.

“Shit,” he cursed. “I need to go back downstairs, I’ve just remembered.”

“I'll be here,” the voice told him, and Harry felt deeply comforted.

"I know," he told the voice, and walked out of his room.

Harry found Snape standing, in what he thought was the same exact spot as before. Harry only walked a few feet into the room, then stopped, trying to keep his distance from the man. Harry bit the sides of his tongue as he waited for Snape to speak, which wasn’t long after.

"Are you settled in?" Snape asked monotonously and Harry nodded, almost shocked he even asked but knew he had to act at least decent to him since Dumbledore would probably report from time to time, and it would go much easier this way too.

"Very well," he continued. "I do not expect you to be staying long, Potter. I'm sure we both are." Snape crossed his arms as he shifted and continued.

"But seeing how you are here, there are things that I'd like to make clear to you before anything else," he said sternly.

"Things in this house are very old, and you are not to touch anything that does not belong to you." When Harry didn’t say anything, he didn’t think there needed to be a response, Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Do you understand?" Snape asked, almost harsh, and Harry nodded quickly.

"You are not to find a way into any doors in this house that are locked, for any reason." Harry nodded again, finding the fact that he had things to hide was almost frightening.

"You are not to enter the woods," Snape began, but Harry interrupted.

"Why not," he asked, disappointed that he would have to stay in the house all day.

"Do not ask questions, Potter. Do as I say." Then Snape, gave a frustrated growl.

"It is unlikely that anyone would be wandering the woods, but in any case, it is best that you don’t either incase the wrong people find their way past the detection charm the Headmaster put around the house." Harry, who understood that it was for safety reasons, nodded.

"You may however, go into the yard but only when being supervised by either me, Karkus or Grib."

Harry felt offended by the word supervised, and wondered if he had to be watched for his safety from other people, or safety from himself. He didn’t ask about it, but instead about the name Harry was not familiar with.

"Right," Harry said. "Who's Grib?"

"The other house elf," Snape snapped, giving Harry the impression he despised Grib for some reason and Harry hoped he wasn’t as crazy as Karkus.

"Have I made myself unclear about anything?" Snape asked, and Harry shook his head.

"Good, then I expect you to not contravene any regulations." Then Snape pocketed a skeleton key that was on the table and turned to him.

"Follow me, Potter." And Harry obliged, trying to keep up with his long strides that took him the other direction in the first ward. They came to a corner, and turned revealing the house to be much larger than Harry thought. There must have been several wards on the first floor besides the one leading to the staircase that led to the second floor.

Finally, after going up a new flight of stairs, then another all the way up to the third floor, Snape stopped in the middle of the main ward in front of a long woven rug. He then, kneeled down and pushed back an end of the rug revealing a keyhole in a compartment door that couldn’t have been seen unless you moved the rug. There was also a small metal handle couldn’t form a bump in the carpet since there was a holder carved into the door.

"This Potter," Snape said, standing back up. "Is an den that is not known to anyone, and it's not in the blueprints of the house. Though it is highly improbable, if anyone came to search the house for you, you are to hide in here until I get you. It can only be opened with a certain key which there are two of. I have one and you are to carry the other around with you at all times," and Snape reached into his pocket and handed him the key from earlier, which Harry put into one of his own pockets, finding it lighter than expected.

"That is all, Potter," Snape told him. "You may leave, but dinner will be ready sometime within the hour and attendance is compulsory." Harry nodded, then exited, heading back to his room.

"I have to live with him," Harry complained to the voice. "I have to listen to him, and now, now I have to actually dine with him?"

"Well you have before," the voice replied.

"Well, yea," Harry said. "But that was at school. He was far enough at the teachers tables where he was easily ignored. Even during holidays, we weren’t alone."

"Well if you don't say anything to him, he won't say anything to you. Just sit, eat, and leave."

"You make it sound so simple."

Harry was laying on his bed with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him when there was a knock on his door, quickly making him sit upright. However, he found it was just a house elf, and it wasn’t Karkus.

"Master Harry?" The small house elf squeaked. It inexplicably reminded him of Dobby and wondered how a house elf could look so sane in such a place.

"Are you Grib?" Harry asked the elf and it nodded nervously.

"Yes, Master Harry," he said. "Master ordered me to tell you that dinner is ready." And Harry nodded and slowly made his way off of the bed.

"Here we go," Harry told the voice.

He walked downstairs using the same route he had first been led up by Karkus. However, as he made his way to the room he had assumed was the dining room, he was stunned to find it completely empty and as dark as before. He walked back out of the room and felt dumb as he looked in every room on the first floor until he found one that was not empty. Luckily, it was only about six doors from the first one.

He walked in nervously and found how different it was compared to the other room he had thought was the dining room. The floors were of white marble and the wallpaper was also white. The chandelier above them seemed to be made of crystal and gave tremendous lighting to the room.

The table was just as long as the table in Sirius' house, with even a fine vase centerpiece in the middle and Snape was seated on the left side of the table at the closer end and didn’t even look up as Harry came in. He thought how strange it was to see Snape, dressed all in black as usual seated in such a bright room.

Quietly, he sat opposite to him. Without looking at the boy in front of him, Snape took his fork and gently tapped it against a wine glass. The ring vibrated for a few seconds, then like it usually did at Hogwarts, food appeared on the plates that were set out in front of them.

It did look good but Harry wasn’t feeling at all hungry, so he mainly picked at the food and moved things from one side of the plate to the other to avoid being chastised by Snape.

After a while, Karkus entered the room with a glass bottle and poured Snape more wine.

“Do you need anything else?” Karkus asked.

“No,” Snape said vaguely and then turned to Harry who was looking down, picking at his plate.

“Potter?” Snape asked and Harry, who shook his head, and Snape turned back to the house elf.

“That is all, Karkus.” And the house elf left the room silently.

“This is so boring,” Harry admitted to the voice who didn’t respond immediately.

“It’s almost going to be over,” the voice told him, reminding Harry of that day when the voice was trying to soothe him. The sentence was almost completely identical to one the voice said to him before he took the pills. Angrily, he held the fork that was in his hand as tight as he could to try and relieve the ache.

After long, dinner seemed to finally be over as both Grib and Karkus entered the room and asked if they wanted their dishes taken. Both Harry and Snape nodded and carelessly, Harry said, “Thanks,” to Grib.

It was as if Harry had said ‘Voldemort’ rather than thanking the house elf. Snape glared at him from across the table, looking as if he were ready to spit venom.

“Potter,” he growled. “You do not ever thank a house elf.” And Harry almost laughed at such an absurd comment.

“Why not?” He argued and Snape narrowed his eyes.

“That is why they even exist,” Snape told him angrily “To serve, not to be thanked.“ And Harry, even though he was no house elf, felt offended. He didn’t press the matter further however.

“Can I go now?” Harry asked rudely after a while and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Is anyone stopping you?”

Without a word, Harry stood up and left after pushing the chair back in.

“Can you believe his nerve?” Harry asked the voice as he explained what Snape said about house elves on his way back to his room.

“Well, maybe that’s how most people see them,” the voice replied. “If they didn’t, there wouldn’t be any more who were forced to work under a master.” Though Harry didn’t approve, he did agree.

“But it’s still wrong,” Harry said. “I don’t care what he says.”

It wasn’t until one in the morning until Harry actually felt drowsy, but he couldn’t fall asleep. It was too much of a change for one day and he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. It was then when he began thinking about his old home at the Dursleys.

He hated it there, that was a fact. He was always unwelcome and mistreated, but home was home, no matter how bad. There was always a certain feeling when in new surroundings, but when at your home, you never thought anything of it. There was never that strange awkwardness as you tried to fall asleep at home, and Harry wasn’t home. He didn’t even have one anymore and as he rested his head against the pillow, he found it almost unbelievable that he, for the first time in his life, actually missed Number 4.

“Get up, Harry.”

Harry Potter had been awake for hours already, but had only slept for two last night and now, he wished nothing more than to sleep again, but the voice wouldn’t let him.

Harry slowly got out of bed and rubbed his tired eyes, making him feel, if possible, more drowsy, then stood up and stretched as the lights magically spelled on.

He walked over to his wardrobe and looked for a shirt to wear. Last night, he hadn’t even bothered to change into his night robes and was still wearing the pants he had on the day before.

Changing in his bathroom, he shivered as he slipped his new shirt on. It was deathly cold in there and his hands felt frozen as he let the faucet water run into them so he could wash his face. The water stung as he gently splashed it into his eyes to try and wake himself up.

Digging for his watch in his trunk, he found it was nearly eleven. He wondered how annoyed Snape would be with him if he continuously woke in the afternoon. Maybe he wouldn’t even care.

With a headache that had been with him since late last night, he sat close to the edge of his bed with his knees bent upward and began tying one of his shoes that he slipped his foot into.

He barley noticed how slow his fingers moved as he bound the two laces together. The throbbing above his eyebrow literally hazed his mind disallowing him to actually think clearly. He let one of his legs that had been propped on the edge of the mattress slide off and by not having any control whatsoever of the velocity due to his stupor, his sole hit the hard wooden floor with a pang that shot through his leg starting at the arch of his foot.

“Shite,” he muttered as he recovered from the fugacious twinge. He tied the other lace as well and stood up but swayed slightly from his fatigue.

He opened his door and peered out through the small crack, checking to see if anyone was there, then stepped out fully. It was noticeably warmer in the hallway so he pulled his long sleeves up with two fingers, making the cloth form ripples above his elbows.

He really wasn’t hungry at all, and didn’t want to go down to the dining room anyway. He felt agitated with his headache and bored with his lack of something to do, so decided to explore the house. After all, it was big- no, it was huge but there was always the possibility he would run into Snape, so he thought his fathers cloak would do nicely.

He pushed open his bedroom door and went to his trunk and fished around for his cloak. He rubbed his arms to warm them a little since it was chilly, but once he found what he was looking for, he wrapped it around him like a shawl, making him look like an amputee.

He stopped right at his door and pulled the cloak over completely before venturing out. The hallway was still empty, but he walked slowly anyway to avoid making the floorboards creak, just incase.

In the hallway where his room was, all of the doors were unlocked, though the rooms located there were of no significance to him. They were old, dusty bedrooms just as his was, though the beds and dressers were arranged differently.

All six rooms there looked as if they hadn’t ever been used, or if they had, not in several years. There was one storage closet though, but was empty except for cobwebs and spiders. However, at the end of the hallway and after a right turn, there was two large double doors at the end of a ward that caught his attention. He rattled the doorknobs but found them locked. Maybe if he could just lock pick it… but decided to try that later, along with some other doors he wanted to open.

But his boredom quickly vanished once he was out of that ward as he found there was three stories to the house, an attic and a basement that was locked.

The first floor had a few locked doors, but the rest were open. There was of course the dining room, he’d been there already, a large bathroom and in muggle terms, a living room though he didn’t know what the wizarding world would call it. Perhaps a family room or a drawing room, but he didn’t like the sound of that one… he thought he’d have nightmares from seeing whatever was drawn in that house.

There was something like a studio, it was just a big open room with very little in it. Though there were windows everywhere, it was still dim due to the thickness of the drapes that covered them. Even when he moved them aside, the glass wasn’t all that transparent and anything he might have been able to see was blurred, probably from the grime on them from outside, nothing was visible.

There was a study on the first floor as well, but no books in it. Just a small room with a desk facing a window. There was a desk chair, but it was dusty and looked wobbly, as well as an armchair that looked uncomfortable and also an easel in the corner and three blank canvases that leaned against the wall.

He went into the room where he had first flooed to, the one with the shabby looking table and chairs. Directly in front of the fireplace as a sofa with an adjoining armchair on the side of it with an area rug beneath them. A dusty suit of armor was located in the corner of the room and a series of torches were aligned on the wall.

There was a medium sized room beside the dining room, which contained a sitting area that faced an enormous window. There was an empty birdcage, a bookshelf and a writing desk all on different sides of the room.

When he made his way up the marble staircase from the first floor, he skipped the second since he had already seen it but looked all around that story for another stairway he had seen when he was exploring that section of the house. It was a good while from his own bedroom, but once he walked up it, he found the third floor irrevocably dreary.

There was too many ways to part from the main hallway which was connected with several others, so he only went down a few to avoid getting lost. Every once and a while, he’d check if a door was locked but stopped after a while; they were all locked.

He was began to get tired of walking a little while later and decided that after he explored the attic, he’d call it quits and maybe take a nap.

He had trouble finding a way to the attic again, all the corridors on the third floor were clones of themselves and often found himself confused and asking himself if he’d been here or there before.

He eventually did find the place with the small flight of stairs and walked up them into the attic. He found that it wasn’t as big as he’d expected it to be, considering how large the house was, it could have been ten times bigger, maybe even more.

There was only one window in there however, located in the center of the wall farthest from the staircase, and as he made his way towards it, he found it overlooked a vast forest. Of course, there was some sort of yard in the back of the house, but any land after that was consumed in woods and he was itching to go and explore it, but Snape’s words from yesterday were ringing in his ears:

With a sigh, he went away from the window and out of the empty, dust ridden attic and after what seemed like an hour, he found his way back to his room and collapsed on the bed with a groan.

He pushed himself further up the bed and kicked off his shoes and laid numbly on his back, staring at the ceiling. He tried to pull the cloak off, but some of it was stuck beneath him so he just remained there laying on it, too lazy to lift himself up and pull it out from under him, but he did close his eyes. There was no escape from the headache he had been ignoring all day.

It was like he had only closed them for a minute or two, but the next time he opened his eyes, he was laying on his stomach with his head in his arms, shivering. He wished he had covered himself with his blanked before he’d fallen asleep.

Groaning, he squinted his eyes as he pivoted his wrist so that he could read his watch. It was 6:34.

He sat up, lifting himself with his arms and rubbed his eyes, then noticed that his head wasn’t throbbing for the first time that day. He smirked when he realized that all he needed was a nap.

With it still being chilly, Harry stepped off from his bed and walked over to his trunk. He put his cloak that he had in his hand beside him and began fishing around for a sweater he could wear.

At the bottom, he found one, a knitted sweater he was given by Mrs. Weasley last year and pulled it over himself. He took out a Charms book and threw it on his bed. He thought it was better to try and get some homework done to kill time rather than be bored out of his mind. As he was about to close his trunk, something shiny caught his eye.

He moved some old junk, like parchment and ink bottles aside and found fragments of glass hidden beneath the clutter and tracked them to find a shattered mirror, still in the brown paper bag it had came in though some shards of glass had ripped through it and they seeped out onto the floor of his trunk….A gift, from Sirius. He realized that this mirror, in it’s current state, did not only reflect his eyes, his nose, his face but it also reflected what he was feeling inside; broken.

As quickly as he could, he covered the bag with anything he could find in his trunk, old clothes, books, socks, feeling more desolate than ever. Right on top of the pile he spotted three chocolate frog boxes and took them out, scooping them up in his hand and pocketed them as he stuffed his cloak back into his trunk and closed it.

Sitting cross legged on the floor, he picked one of the frog boxes and opened it, not caring what card he got, he threw it aside as the frog immediately jumped out once the package had been broken, causing Harry to try and catch it, missing several times, his palms banging the floor as it jumped around before he actually caught it; his fingers gripping its legs in midair.

He smiled as he nibbled on it, starting from the arms onto the face until he consumed the rest whole. The second chocolate frog box had already been open; it was empty. The third did have a frog, but he cupped it in his hands once it flew out and avoided the trouble of having to snag it before it jumped away.

He moved his blanket to the side and laid down on his stomach pulling the text book towards him, then his blanket over his back. He stuffed a pillow under his chin to get more comfortable before beginning his homework; a Charms essay on:

The next thing Harry knew, his head jerked up, his glasses were askew and his neck was stiff.

He sat up and wiped the side of his face and looked down at his drool-clad book. It was barley opened to page 13 and his essay was a whole one sentence in.

Harry rubbed the side of his neck that was hurting and went to the bathroom to wash his face. He looked at his watch; it was 3:07.

“Yes, actually. It does. Maybe you wouldn’t sleep for a short time every few hours if you’d eat something besides candy every once and a while-”

“So maybe I’ll go downstairs and get something besides candy. When I’m actually hungry, that is.”

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. There were shadows under his eyes. He rubbed his face with his hands that were cupped with water and after, took a long shower with hot water.

Once he dressed himself, along with his sweater, Harry grew bored but knew he’d fall asleep again if he started reading that boring textbook again. He looked around his room. He could use new scenery, he thought…

Halfway between trying to push his wardrobe to the opposite wall, he sighed and sat on the floor. If only he were allowed to use magic outside of school.

After five more minutes, it was against the wall, though not at the spot he would have liked. His bed was easier to move, however. It didn’t weigh ten tons like his wardrobe. In fact, the bed frame had wheels, that was surely a plus.

His desk was pushed on the side of his bed and he moved back the bedside table on the other… then he realized he liked his room better the old way, but didn’t think he could push that stupid wardrobe back all the way to the other side of the room. He sighed and sat at his desk, scribbling on an old parchment.

“Er… Grib?” He asked out loud, though quietly. Then there was a pop next to him and he turned around to face the small house elf.

“Master Harry was needing something? Breakfast? His clothes washed? His-”

“Um, no. I was wondering if there were any tubes of paint anywhere.” Grib smiled, his brown eyes wide.

“Yes Master! Should Grib be bringing a easel and canvas as well?” Harry nodded, unsure of why the house elf would be this enthusiastic about painting. Grib apparated away, leaving Harry grinning in his chair. The house elf looked a lot like Dobby, or even Winky for that matter.

Grib returned with an easel, five canvases, an assortment of paint tubes, a small glass and a clear, lidless container with several different sizes of paintbrushes.

“Thanks,” he said and examined a brush.

“Would Master Harry be needing anything else?” Harry considered the offer. Here he was, bored out of his mind, and here was a house elf that would give him practically anything he wanted. Knowing he would take advantage of the situation later, he rubbed his stomach. Now that he thought of it, he was kind of hungry.

“Yeah, is there anything to eat-”

“Yes Master! Breakfast is already made! Grib-” Grib’s eyes became wide again, but not with excitement like with the painting, wide with fear.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Grib interrupted a wizard,” he muttered quietly. “Grib has to be punished.” Harry wondered why Grib extended his arms, trembling, but then realized why. Harry knew how wizards generally treated house elves, and that disobedience was something punishable. He felt saddened that Grib would think he’d ever harm him, but was angry that this was Snape’s house elf, and already knew when he was supposed to be punished.

“I’m not going to punish you,” Harry told Grib sternly.

“Then Grib is to go to Master Severus to be punished?” Harry shook his head.

“You aren’t to be punished at all,” he told him. Grib looked confused but relieved. “I think I’ll just go down and eat breakfast, though.” Harry turned to walk out of his room, and Grib apparated, supposedly downstairs.

Harry went down into the dining room, grateful no one was there. Just as he sat down on the chair he had sat in the first night he had arrived, a plate full of breakfast appeared in front of him, as well as a mug.

“Would Master Harry be needing anything else,” Grib, who apparated beside him asked.

Harry peered into his mug of coffee and grimaced. He hated the taste of the drink.

“Yeah, actually.” He said as he dug his fork into his eggs. “Do you have anything that I could drink that’s not coffee?” Grib looked afraid when Harry asked.

“Yes Master,” Grib squeaked, coiling, making Harry wonder why the house elf would be scared at all. The question was asked politely. “Grib was not knowing Master Harry Potter did not like coffee. Master Severus always has it for breakfast. Grib was not knowing what Master Harry would want!”

“Its ok,” Harry said, trying to avoid making Grib scream. “I’m not mad, but do you have anything like… lets say pumpkin juice?” Grib looked disturbed at the question.

“No, but Grib is making some now-”

“No, its fine, Grib.” Harry told him. “I’ll just have tea then.”

“Yes Master!” And Grib was gone with a slight pop. Harry began eating his food again and wondered where Snape was off to. Not that Harry would ever want him there, but he wondered what he was doing, or what he had been doing all of yesterday.

“Is this alright, Master?” Grib asked once he apparated back, then handed Harry a small steaming tea cup that contained unfamiliar scenting tea.

Harry tasted it finding it surprisingly delicious, even before adding sugar or crème. It tasted like a mix between blackberry, peach and smelled slightly of clove.

“Yes, thank you,” he said pulling the sugar towards him, not caring that house elves weren’t supposed to be thanked. That, to Harry, still seemed completely ludicrous.

“Anything else, Master?”

“No,” Harry replied as he began sipping his tea. “I’m fine.”

Harry’s breakfast consisted of beacon, eggs, toast and pancakes. He really didn’t eat all that much, but he did drink a lot of the tea Grib, who was gone now, had brought for him. He really, really liked this drink. Though he did like Pumpkin Juice, he’d had it at almost every meal at school, this… mystery tea was certainly a lot better.

When Harry was full, he stood up and all of his dishes disappeared. He wasn’t feeling all that bored now that he knew he had something to do today.

Once upstairs, he set up the easel with a canvas and arranged the paint on the desk beside him. He went to his bathroom and filled the empty glass with water and dipped a paint brush in it.

He stared at the canvas for well over a minute. He had a solution to his boredom for a while, but he didn’t know what to paint. He had never painted before anyway. Well, except the times when he was little and he’d paint on sheets of manila paper with water colors, but besides that, all he had was his childhood house-with-smoke-coming-from chimney experience and he really didn’t want to paint something like that.

So he started with painting a wardrobe. Funny it looked exactly like the one he had been having trouble moving not an hour ago. Halfway into it, he realized it was one-dimensional, so started painting a book that looked just like his charms text book as it sat on the floor. When he was done, he stepped back to examine the wardrobe and book…well, if you could call it that. From where he was standing, it looked like a big box, and a small box.

Sighing, Harry put up a new canvas and tried painting a house with smoke coming from its chimney, but when he was done, he felt as if he’d seen this picture several times before.

His legs became tired from standing for an hour and a half, so he sat cross legged on the floor with the canvas with the two boxes and began mixing paint colors together anywhere that was white.

He liked the way that orange and yellow mixed together best. It looked like the sun as it was setting and that’s how he came up with his new project. To paint the sun setting, exactly how it was. Of course, the sun wouldn’t set outside for… well, all day. It was only about nine in the morning right now, so it was too late to see the sun rise instead. So he started painting little ‘rough drafts’. Of course, he knew he’d have to try and get colors blending in right before he painted his ‘final draft’ of the sun set.

For about two hours, he tried painting layers of color around the sun. Like red, yellow and orange, but nothing really seemed right. It looked to…animated. It didn’t look real to Harry, but he knew that was because this was his first time trying to paint. He was practically self teaching himself. Then he thought of that saying ‘practice makes perfect’. He scoffed as he lifted his brush onto the canvas and tried to paint over a mistake; that was just another way to say ‘you really suck’.

It was eleven thirty by the time he knew it, and he really wanted some more mystery tea. His stomach was slightly growling anyway, so he decided to go back downstairs to the dining room.

Again, once he sat down, a plate of food appeared in front of him as well as the tea. Lunch, for Harry, was grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

Harry ate lunch slowly, drinking a lot of tea along with his meal. He didn’t care for the soup that much, but did eat about a one and a half sandwiches before becoming full. He was about to stand up and leave when Grib popped in the room looking proud, and handed Harry a cup with unknown contents in it.

“What’s this?” Harry sniffed the contents of the cup. It was all orange and gunky and smelled like… rotten pumpkin.

“It’s pumpkin juice, Master Harry!” At first, Harry didn’t understand but when he did, he burst out laughing. Grib took the term literally this morning. He didn’t know what it was and actually juiced a pumpkin. When he got control of himself, he looked back at Grib who looked hurt. He hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings and felt bad.

“Oh, er… thanks Grib.” He said quickly. Grib just looked back from him to the glass of pumpkin juice in his hand.

“Isn’t that right, Master Harry?” Grib asked. “Grib did what he thought might make pumpkin juice. Grib took a pumpkin and carved out all the insides, mixed it with water and sugar and cooled it-”

“No, no,” Harry said. “This is exactly right, Grib. Thank you…”

Grib was still staring at him, waiting for him to taste it. Harry, who would feel bad if he sent it back, gulped hard and took a deep breath as he put the glass to his lips. Slowly, he let some of the contents pour into his mouth; it tasted like something an amateur chef with a big imagination would make on Halloween. He forced himself to swallow and bit down on his tongue trying not to grimace or gag. He smiled at the house elf who looked like he was about to explode with glee, which would have been disgusting as he blew his guts and pillowcase attire all over Harry as well as Snape’s dining room.

“Wonderful, Grib,” he said as he put the glass on the table, looking away from it since he thought he might be sick. He decided to talk his way out of the nauseous state he was in.

“Where did you get the pumpkin for this, anyway,” Harry asked him. He doubted Snape would have a hidden garden in the back of the house. Grib frowned.

“It’s ok, Grib. I wont get mad if you tell me.” Grib looked scared but spoke slowly as he stared at his feet.

“Grib knew Master Harry wanted pumpkin juice this morning, so he went to a pumpkin patch he knew was about ten miles from home and took one.” Harry felt a little horrible that he would make Grib want to walk ten miles for a mere pumpkin, but was half relieved that this would give him an excuse to tell him not to make the drink anymore.

“That was really nice of you, Grib,” Harry began. “But I really don’t want you to have to walk ten miles just to make this. I actually prefer tea, anyway.” Grib looked up and nodded, looking guilty. Harry smiled sadly at him and with all of the Gryffindor courage he had, took another gulp of the pumpkin juice. Grib looked happy again at that.

“Well,” Harry began, standing up. “I think I’ll go back to my room now.” Just as the plates disappeared, Grib stopped him.

“Master Severus ordered Grib to tell Master Harry to go to his office after Master Harry had eaten lunch.” Harry stared at Grib, considering his words. He had to go to Snape’s office?

“For what?” Harry asked, though he didn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it did. Grib flinched.

“Sorry,” he quickly added. “Do you know why…Snape wants me to go?”

“Grib is not knowing, Master.” Harry nodded and looked down at his sweater. It was splattered here and there with paint. He’d just take it off before he went to his office… but he didn’t know where it was.

“Er, Grib? Do you think you can show me where his office is?”

“Yes, of course Master Harry.” Grib began walking toward the door, beckoning Harry to follow, which he did as he took off his sweater.

Grib led Harry up the marble staircase and as they passed his door when they were going down the hallway where it was, Harry stopped and threw his sweater inside before he continued to follow Grib all the way up to the third floor and down a dark brick corridor with lit torches on the walls. Grib stopped in front of a dark wooden door and knocked for Harry, who didn’t know why he was even nervous. If he could drink Grib’s pumpkin juice, then seeing Snape should be no problem.

“Come in,” Harry heard a dark voice say on the other side of the door.

“Come in,” Harry heard a dark voice say on the other side of the door.

Harry, with Grib close behind, pushed open the door and stepped into a medium sized office, bookshelves covering most of the walls, a fireplace on the right and a door beside it. There was also a sofa near the wall that framed the entrance door, though it wasn’t completely against the wall or in the middle of the room.

There was a large desk with two armchairs facing it, and behind the desk was Snape, who had been looking over some parchment but was now facing Harry, his black eyes cold.

“Potter,” he acknowledged, raising an eyebrow. “What brings you to my office?”

Harry glared. Clearly the man was playing games with him, trying his best to taunt him without actually having to taunt him. Grib wouldn’t lie when he said Snape had wanted him to go up there. Harry wouldn’t let Snape get to him.

“Well, Grib said you wanted me to come up here after lunch, sir,” he said. Snape’s eyes became malicious and his lip curled, though for once, his anger wasn’t directed at Harry.

“And when, Potter, did Grib inform you of this,” he asked quietly.

“A little while ago, after I’d finished-”

“A little while ago?” Snape was glaring at Grib now, the same glares Harry had received from the moment he first arrived at Hogwarts.

“Yes Master, yesterday you said ‘tell Potter to come to my office after he is finished eating lunch’,” Grib squeaked.

“And you didn’t,” Snape said icily.

“But Master Harry didn’t eat lunch yesterday, but he did today and that’s when Grib told him.” Snape glared at Grib for while longer before he began glaring at Harry, who‘s hands were becoming sweaty. Now Snape knew he didn’t eat lunch yesterday and he hoped the man wouldn’t ask if he bothered to eat anything at all, because he didn’t other than the chocolate frogs. If only Grib didn’t take things so literal, he thought, like with the pumpkin juice and now this.

Snape stood from his desk and went over to one of his bookshelves and retrieved a wide, long box.

“Come here, Potter.”

Hesitantly, Harry walked over to where Snape was now opening the box, revealing several different wands that were all crammed inside and Snape angrily turned to Grib.

“Give the wand to me” he growled and Grib looked down at his feet, but shakily, his hand reached into a small side pocket and pulled out a short beige wand and as Snape reached for it, Grib pulled back.

“But it’s the Mistresses wand,” he cried. Snape paid no attention and snatched it out of his hand, muttering something about an ‘imprudent house elf’ as he threw that wand with the rest of them.

“Whose wands are these,” Harry asked nervously, but Snape ignored his question.

“The Headmaster feels it’s best that you are able to use a wand while you are here, but not your own.” Snape walked back to his desk and opened a side drawer. He pulled out a wand and gave it to Harry, finding that it was his. He didn’t know he had it.

“You had my wand?” He asked as he examined it, making sure it wasn’t damaged in any way.

“Indeed. Did you believe it was still in your back pocket as it had been when you… Ah, were hospitalized?” Harry’s ears became hot, but he didn’t look up at the man. Hospitalized.

“I thought it was in my trunk with the rest of my things,” he said, putting his wand in his pocket, pretending what he said didn’t hurt.

“I see. So if The Dark Lord was to raid this house and find you, you expected that he would let you go digging through your trunk to find your wand before he would attempt to kill you.” Harry angrily looked up, though he didn’t say anything.

“I thought so,” Snape snidely told him as he walked back and picked up the box with the wands.

“As I said before, Potter, the Headmaster thinks you should be allowed to use magic, but not with your wand as it would alert the ministry that you were doing underage magic-”

“So if I just use someone else’s wand, they wont know,” Harry asked, excited. If only he had known that before. He would have swapped wands with Ron or Hermione during previous summers.

“On the contrary,” Snape continued. “You cannot simply use anyone else’s wand. Whenever a wizard is pronounced dead by a ministry official, the data on their wand is automatically erased, thus allowing any underage wizard who is in possession of the wand to use it without the ministry being aware. Many wizarding families who wish for their children to master spells before attending school let them practice on deceased relatives’ wands.”

“And these are all of your, er… deceased relatives’ wands then,” Harry asked, biting his lip. Just because he had all of these wands didn’t make them his relatives’, he thought.

“Naturally. Now are you going to loiter here in my office all day asking questions or find a wand that doesn’t destroy everything with the simplest of incantations?”

Harry picked up a wand that was on top and studied it. It was long and ebony with dark green gemstones circling the end of it.

“What should I test it on,” Harry asked, looking around the room.

“You can attempt to stun Grib,” Snape suggested cruelly as Grib flinched and Harry didn’t know if he was serious or not, then again, his teacher wasn’t one to jest.

“How about if I just levitate something,” Harry insisted and motioned to a tin trash bin on the side of his desk. Snape nodded curtly and Harry raised his wand to it.

“Wengardium Leviosa,” he muttered and the bin wiggled a bit before it fell over, the crumpled parchments seeping out. Harry stood it back up after he put the parchment back and handed Snape the wand and reached for another. It was the short beige one that Grib had had in his pocket.

“Wengardium Leviosa,” he said with his wand directed at the bin, though it didn’t do anything.

Wand after wand, Harry attempted the levitating charm on the waste basket, all of which were unsuccessful. Snape just stood there and watched, half annoyed and half amused every time a trial caused the basked to do something like fly over and hit Harry or shoot parchment at him. Snape never spoke, unless it was a ‘I think not,“ after a wand didn’t work properly. Harry ignored him the entire time, however.

Harry found that testing the wands was quite interesting. He played a game in his head, guessing what his next result would be.

In the time it took to try about fifteen wands, the bin melted, hit the roof, sparked fire on the parchment inside it, crumbled, duplicated, turned into glass, shrunk, expanded and turned to stone.

There was one incident however, that made the bin go in the direction opposite to where Harry was pointing his wand. If he moved his wand left, it would go right and vice versa.

Eventually, he finally found a wand that suited him. It was a long, brown wand that’s end was twisted, reminding him of the roots of the Whomping Willow. It levitated the bin just as his old one would and Snape suggested to use a more powerful spell on it.

“Duro,” he muttered, and the bin turned to stone, only this time it was intended. He cast Lumos, and a light surged from the tip of the wand, and Nox that made the light fade back out. After he changed the color of it, making it turn from grey to black, and blasting a small hole in it, then repaired it, Snape spoke.

“I believe that wand will suffice, Potter,” he said and put the all of the used wands back into the box and went back to looking over the parchment on his desk. “That is all.”

Harry was about to turn and leave when he put the new wand back into his pocket, but stopped.

“Sir,” he asked. “Where is Hedwig and my Firebolt?” Since he had found out Snape had had his wand, he realized two of his most valuable possessions had been missing as well. It was incredible to him how they slipped his mind.

“To avoid you from being influenced to roam around the woods, your broom is being kept safe. As for your owl, he is outside, learning his way around the grounds.”

“She,” Harry corrected, angry about his broomstick though glad he hadn’t taken his cloak.

“She?” Snape asked without looking up.

“Hedwig’s a girl,” he said. “And cant I just fly my broom around the yard?”

“No,” Snape said as he began marking one of the parchments with his quill. “I doubt the Headmaster will be pleased if you crash.”

“W-” he cut himself off. If he had finished the sentence, he would have retorted that he wasn’t that bad of a flyer, which would have been fine, he hadn’t crashed for years, only he knew that’s not what Snape had meant.

The words hung between them, though unspoken. Harry was grateful that he cut himself off before he began to argue about his flying capabilities so Snape wouldn’t have to correct himself and say what he really meant, though the idea of crashing his broom sounded good at the moment.

Harry wordlessly walked out of Snape’s office. After all, before asking about Hedwig and his broom, he had been told he could leave.

As he began walking back down to his room, he debated two things in his mind, trying to figure out which was worse:

Snape actually ridiculing him about his suicide attempt, or just knowing that Snape had the advantage over him to do so at all.

Harry shook his head as he pushed his bedroom door open; they were both equally dreadful.

Well at least he had a wand now, he thought with some cheer as he cleaned away the paint mess on his sweater using the Scouring Charm. With a wand, it would be much easier to arrange his room like the way it had originally been and to finally be able to open a few locked doors he wanted to go in to. Harry smiled, but as he looked around his room, he realized he couldn’t stay inside for much longer.

At least he knew now that Grib wouldn’t say no if he asked to go outside with him. Snape said he couldn’t have his broom or go into the woods at all, but he did say he could go outside if he or one of the house elves was with him.

“Grib,” Harry called and the house elf apparated into his room, smiling up at him.

“Yes, Master Harry?” Harry chewed his lip for a few moments before he spoke.

“Er… will you come outside with me. I cant go outside alone and-”

“Oh, Yes Master! Grib wants to go outside too! Let us go right now!” Grib began tugging on Harry’s hand a bit and Harry followed Grib out of his room all the way down to the dining room where Grib stopped at the wide glass door he hadn’t noticed before because it was covered by curtains and he assumed it had been a long window. Harry, for the first time in a long while, felt sunlight on his skin as it came through the glass as he moved a curtain aside and Harry opened the door and stepped outside onto a small deck that looked over the wide yard.

The yard was obviously neglected. It looked like it hadn’t been tended to in years maybe. The grass was growing tall and weeds sprung about everywhere. Harry found the very sight of it dismal and melancholy and almost considered going back inside.

Harry walked down the concrete steps from the deck and stepped onto the ground, but was hesitant to go any further until Grib ushered him along, tugging on his shirt.

Harry felt the sunlight on the back of his neck and relaxed a little bit. It felt good to actually feel warm again. It had been so cold in the hospital and it was so cold in his room, but it was nice and warm out here and Harry considered laying down and taking a nap right there on the ground, but had second thoughts when he saw a spider crawl over his shoe then disappear as it ran back into the grass.

Harry walked around a bit, his head looking down as the sun heated up his back. He began kicking a few stones that were conspicuous enough to see until he noticed he was standing in front of an area that didn’t have foot long grass sticking up from it, though there were some random strands of it mixed in with the sprawling weeds.

The area wasn’t made up from dirt and Harry kneeled down and found it was sand instead. Confused, he stood back up and looked around. It was then that he realized he was standing before some sort of playground graveyard.

Everything was dilapidated and decaying. He walked further into it and noticed a wooden seesaw that was molding and broken in some places. There was a small monkey bar that had collapsed further ahead from what he could see. A side of it had fallen over to the ground while the other was still standing and connected to top that was now slanted, forming a right triangle with the ground. A crow rested on one of the bars but flew away with a ‘caw’ as Harry neared it.

There was a long slide that had given out. The metal ladder was rusted and had crumbled onto the ground as the plastic slide segment lay a few feet away, covered in grime. It might have been a shade of bright yellow once, like the sun, but now it was just brown and tainted.

Several yards away stood a small double swing . The metal legs were extraordinarily still standing, though rusted just as the chains that once held onto the leather seats were, but now the seats were on the ground, weeds wrapping around them as a snake would as some strands of grass poked out from the sides of them.

Somewhere nearby, Harry sat down at a stone bench next to a jungle gym that had caved in, knowing it was strong enough to hold and wouldn’t fall apart just like everything around it had.

He looked around again. It was different seeing everything from far away, and it made him sad just looking at the sight in front of him. He wondered if children who had died young ever came to play here.

Harry rested his elbows on his knees and he looked down at his shoes. It wasn’t so warm anymore, he thought and decided it was best to just go back inside. He was about to stand when he noticed a ball a few meters away from himself. Curious, he slightly peered at it and was astounded to find that it wasn’t a Bludger or Quaffle or any other sort of wizarding sports ball, but a round, grungy, deflated, muggle football.

But why, Harry thought, would a muggle sports ball be in the yard unless….

“Grib,” Harry called and the house elf who had been picking dandelions and other kinds of weeds for some sort of bouquet not to far away walked over.

“Master Harry,” he asked as he was messing with his ‘flower’ arrangement and not looking up.

“Grib, what can you tell me about the Snape family?” Grib stopped tinkering with his flowers and finally looked up at him, though with wide-eyes and he dropped the bouquet in his hand as they parted on the floor. His lip began quivering and he fingered something in his pocket. It was the same size as the wand he had taken from Snape and it most likely was that wand.

“Th-… The Snape f-family, Master Harry?” Harry nodded and Grib clutched the hidden wand. “What does Master wish for Grib to tell him?”

“Were any of them… muggles,” he asked. It was strange saying it. He’d always thought Snape was a pureblood judging by his magical ability, but then, that was just being prejudice. A powerful wizard could come from anywhere, a muggle family just as much as a pureblooded one.

“M-Muggles? Yes, Master. Yes.” Grib shifted in his place and for the first time Harry had seen, his eyes became shadowed. Even when Snape threatened him, he didn’t look this somber. “Master Callousen was a muggle.” Master Callousen?

“Who is Callousen,” Harry asked. “Did he live here?” Harry thought Callousen had to have lived there if Grib was calling him ‘Master’. It made sense if he were muggle. It explained the muggle influence on the house which he now remembered; none of the portraits in the house moved or talked as they did in the wizarding world, the house didn’t have any magical objects, minus the lights being able to spell on and the presence of house elves. Then there was the football.

“Master Callousen w-was the owner of the house before he died.” Harry felt guilty for bringing the subject up if it seemed to upset Grib this much, but he had a right to know, didn’t he? He would never ask Snape about his history, but Grib could give him the same information without biting his head off. Harry moved over to the edge of the stone bench and patted it on the other side where there was room. Grib hopped up and sat beside him, his feet dangling as the hovered a few inches from the ground.

“Grib, do you think you can you tell me all about Master Callousen?” Grib nodded faintly looking as he looked down.

“M-Master Callousen was Master Severus’ father,” he began. So Snape was half-blooded, Harry thought.

“His name was Callousen Snape, then,” he asked. Grib nodded again, this time clutching the wand again.

“Master Callousen was married to the Mistress and was Master Severus’ father. But he was always being mean to Master Severus and the Mistress-”

“Tell me about the Mistress, Grib. Why do you keep her wand-”

“Grib is sorry, Master!” Grib pulled the wand out from his pocket and held it out so Harry could take it, but he didn’t. He didn’t know why Grib was fond of the wand, but knew what it was like to have something of sentimental value be taken away, though in Grib’s case, it wasn’t really his to keep. If the Mistress had been Snape’s mother, then it was rightfully his, though Harry felt Grib wanted it a whole lot more if Snape had just stuffed with a bunch of other wands in a box. He pushed the elf’s extended arm back and spoke.

“I wont tell Snape you have the wand,” he assured him and Grib took it in his lap and caressed it gently with his fingers. Harry thought he heard a sniffle and knew, as selfish as it was, that he wouldn’t be able to learn about Callousen or the Mistress if Grib was crying so he patted his back and waited for him to continue.

“The Mistress was Master Severus’ mother. She owned Grib,” he said shakily. “Grib was given to her from the Mistress’ own father when she was turning of age. Mistress was always nice to Grib, even when he did something bad like break or burn something of hers. The Mistress never was cruel to Grib like…”

“Like Master Callousen was?” Grib nodded. “Mistress was always being kind to Grib, just as Master Harry is.” Harry smiled, knowing he had been good to Grib and proud he could be compared to someone he cared a lot about.

Grib seemed to be at ease when he talked about the Mistress in contrast to Callousen, so Harry decided he’d let him talk about her for a while before asking questions about her husband.

“I want to hear more about the Mistress, Grib. What was her name?”

“Mistress’ given name was Alexandra, and before she became a Snape, she was a Doyle.” Alexandra Doyle, Harry thought. He never heard of her.

“Mistress’ mother had died in childbirth and Mistress was raised by her father, Donovan, but he died a few months after Mistress graduated from the Hogwarts school. Grib was there when she met Master Callousen at her fathers funeral. Master Callousen was several years older than Mistress and was saying he was a family friend and he would help her with whatever the Mistress was needing, but… Grib was hearing Master Callousen speak to his friends saying he had never met Mistress’ father, but he knew Mistress was inheriting lots and lots of money and he wanted to marry Mistress so he could take it. One of Masters’ friends saw that Grib had heard them, and Master told Grib that if he told Mistress about what he heard, he would be murdering her. Grib didn’t want that! So Grib kept it a secret and had to watch as Master courted the Mistress and when they were being m-married”.

“You told me Callousen was mean to Snape and the Mistress. How so?”

“Master was always yelling at Mistress and Master Severus. He never came out of his office where he worked all day, and ignored them all the time. Sometimes, he was threatening to kill them both, but he never hurt them because Karkus and Grib would protect the Mistress and her son. Mistress’ father had ordered we do so before he died, so we always protected her, and even Master Snape because Mistress asked.”

“When did the Mistress and Callousen die,” Harry asked, hoping the question wouldn’t make Grib start crying again.

“M-Mistress died f-first, of D-Dragon Pox when Master Severus w-was fourteen and was away at school. Master Callousen didn’t bother to tell him until he came home during the s-s-summer.”

“I’m sorry, Grib.” Harry told the elf, feeling pity for Snape. Grib nodded and continued.

“Master Callousen died when Master Severus was eighteen. He was poisoned in a muggle bar in London.”

His pity stopped. Harry didn’t want to believe the atrocious conclusion he came up with. Snape didn’t… he couldn’t have poisoned his own father, could he? No doubt he hadn’t been loyal to Dumbledore then… but even though his father, from what Grib had told him, had been anything but kind, he couldn’t have murdered him…

“Grib? Do…do you know who poisoned him?” The elf nodded.

“Eliza Doyle,” Grib told him. Harry let out a sigh. He wasn’t living with a murderer after all.

“She poisoned him because he killed her husband, Donald Doyle. Donald was Mistress’ uncle.”

Harry nodded, thinking that was enough discussion on Snape’s family history, though he knew there was still more to hear. All he had wanted to know in the first place was how the football had gotten there, and that had been explained since Callousen was muggle. He rose to his feet.

“Well, I think we’d better go inside,” Harry told Grib and the elf nodded and followed Harry into the house before pocketing the Mistress’ wand.

“What?” Harry asked aloud as he reread what McGonagall wanted in her essay: Name ten inventions that were created by an error in a transfiguration spell, give details on each invention, its inventor and how the invention has impacted society.

He threw the note aside and lay back on his bed. Why the upcoming sixth years had to do summer work at all was just baffling. It wasn’t as if they knew what classes they would be in before their O.W.L. scores came in. Of course, he could hold off on his homework until they came, which should be sometime soon.

He wondered if Dumbledore would give Snape his scores to give to him, or if he would just get them from Dumbledore directly since they would probably get sent to Hogwarts seeing as no one knew where he was, minus the Order. Or maybe they would be sent to Privet Drive and his uncle would tear the letter to shreds and he would never get to know his results. The thought was daunting.

“It would be great to be excepted into the aurors program, wouldn’t it?” Harry asked the voice excitedly, staring at the ceiling.

“You’ve wanted to be an auror for some time. I’m sure you’ll get excepted. You’re really good at defense, anyway.”

“You should ask Mad-Eye or Kingsley, or even Tonks the next time you see either one of them about it,” the voice suggested.

“I doubt I’ll be seeing anyone for a while,” Harry said grimly, and turned his attention back to his homework.

“But you can, Harry.”

“Yeah? How? Do you mean to tell me that you have an entire bloody library up there with you?” Harry asked coldly.

“No, but has it ever occurred to you that Snape might have a few books on the subject? Or an encyclopedia or-”

“Or Grib could just get them for me,” Harry thought, pleased that there was someone who would help him with his current dilemma, without making him have to actually go and ask for help from Snape himself.

“Grib?” Harry called aloud, his voice etched with uncertainly to whether or not the house elf would come on command like he did before. But sure enough, a moment later the small, squeaky house elf appeared out of nowhere, standing on the foot of his bed no less, startling Harry as Grib was only a foot or two away from him.

“Master?” Harry quickly pushed himself up with an elbow and sat up straight, leveled evenly with Grib.

“Uh, hi Grib,” Harry began and pushed himself back until he was leaning comfortably against the headboard of his bed frame. He pulled his school notes on one knee and began to think of what to ask.

“Is Master Harry doing school work,” Grib asked, eyeing the papers resting on his leg.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to ask you about-”

“Oh! Grib would love to help Master Harry with his school work! Master Snape used to make Grib write essays, and find answers-”

“Well, that’s not really how I was hoping you could help me,” Harry explained, smirking at the thought of a teenaged Snape making a house elf do his homework for him.

“I was just wondering if you could get a book or two for me?” Harry asked, but Grib looked entirely remorseful a moment later and spoke.

“Grib is sorry, Master,” Grib began; he really did sound sorry. “But Master Severus said I wasn’t allowed to touch any of his things after he found that Grib took Mistress’ wand again,” Grib explained, though Harry watched as the house elf fingered something in his pocket. No doubt Grib had ceased to listen about the wand.

“I didn’t tell him that you took her wand,” Harry said, hoping that Grib didn’t think that.

“Grib knows, Master,” the elf said. “But Grib cant take any of Master’s books. Grib is willing to go and ask for them for you-”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Harry quickly cut in. He knew that that would make him seem like a bloody coward if Grib went and asked for something he could easily get himself. He just didn’t want to, that was the problem.

“I’ll just go and ask myself,” Harry announced nervously and stood from the bed. He lingered for a moment, Grib was still there watching him, but Harry paid no attention and walked out from his room.

Once he had found it, Harry cautiously rapped his knuckles on the oak door that lead to Snape’s office, feeling exactly the same as he had all those times he had to serve detention in Snape’s office at Hogwarts, or even when he had to go to do his Occlumency lessons; anxious.

Slowly and carefully, he knocked, as if he hit the door too hard it would crumble and fall at his feet. For a while there was nothing. Perhaps he didn’t knock loud enough, he thought and swallowed back his anxiety to knock again, only this time a little louder, but there was still no reply.

He’s probably not in his office then, Harry thought and turned to leave, half pleased about it, but a moment later, he heard the door open behind him, and he turned back around to face his teacher who was wearing dragon skinned gloves.

Snape looked down at him, almost surprised to see him there. “Potter?”

“Sorry sir, you must be busy-”

“I was in my labs and didn’t hear you knock. Come in.” Snape moved so Harry could go in, then he closed the door behind them.

“In here, Potter,” he said and went into the adjoining room that’s door was next to the fireplace. Harry followed, and found that he had been lead into the lab Snape had been talking about earlier. It looked much like Snape’s office at Hogwarts, with bottled potions and potion ingredients lined against the walls on wooden shelves.

“What was it that you were needing, Potter?” Snape asked, though not looking at him as he was engrossed in a potion that he was preparing.

“What potion is that,” Harry asked. It looked a little familiar…

“Wolfsbane,” Snape answered. “For Lupin.” An uneasy feeling swept through Harry at the werewolf’s name. A sort of guilt and nervousness.

“You still make him his potion, sir?”

“Since he taught Defense at the school,” Snape cleared up as he lowered the flames under his cauldron. Harry hadn’t known Snape made Lupin Wolfsbane still. Dumbledore probably made him anyway, it wasn’t as if Snape did it willingly because he liked Lupin, he knew he didn’t.

“Er, and how is Lupin, sir?” Harry hadn’t seen him since the night he was taken from the hospital, but even then they hadn’t spoke.

“Recovering well, I should expect.” Harry’s stomach crumbled.

“Recovering well from what?” Harry asked, though he couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. “Is he injured?” Snape looked up then, an eyebrow raised, but only to stare at him like Harry was a potion that had mysteriously gone wrong.

“The last full moon was three days ago Potter,” said Snape in a hard voice that told Harry he thought he was completely asinine. Harry began to color a bit.

“Oh,” Harry muttered. “Then why are you making it again if the next full moon is…” He cut himself off. Stupid question, Harry thought. He knew the answer to that; it took about a month to brew. “Never mind.” Snape seemed to have ignored the question, though Harry knew that he probably had at least ten different remarks for that. He never said them, though.

Remembering what he was here for, Harry cleared his throat to speak.

“Er, sir?” Harry began. “I wanted to ask you about the O.W.L. scores.”

“What about them?” Snape asked as he added powdered asphodel root to the cauldron.

“Well, where would mine be sent?” Harry asked, a little irritated that Snape was hardly paying any attention to him. “To Privet Drive?”

“No, I expect the Headmaster would have them be sent to the school, and then from there, be brought here.”

“Oh,” he muttered, not sure how to ask about the transfiguration book. Snape would probably yell at him, and say he should have gotten all the material needed for his summer work before school had ended.

Staring at the cauldron, hoping the burning flames below it would enlighten him on some way he could approach the subject… he really didn’t want to have to ask. He could just imagine the insults Snape could throw at him, it made him edgy and consider leaving and asking about the books another time, though he knew if he left he would never come back to ask.

Clearly Snape misunderstood why Harry lingered for a while staring at the brewing Wolfsbane when he asked:

“Would you care to assist in the brewing of your friends potion, Potter?”

It was the last thing Harry wanted to do. If he didn’t get enough of him for five years, plus the upcoming two, he certainly didn’t want to now, in the summer no less. He’d probably tower over him like a hawk and for every mistake, take points- no, make a note of all the points to take and then when September 1st came around, he’d dock them off then.

“But, but I-”

“Out with it Potter. You really are beginning to ramble more and more every time I see you.” Harry flushed.

“But I might ruin it, Professor,” he said. He really was worried that he would ruin it and Lupin would wouldn’t have his potion, but he also really didn’t want to help make the potion at all if it were with Snape. He didn’t think that his insinuation was caught by his teacher at all though.

“Yes, well. There is that,” Snape impassively told him. Harry stood there motionless until Snape summoned several ingredients Harry did not recognize.

“Come here, Potter,” Snape ordered and Harry went over to the lab table, thinking the grimmest of thoughts every with every step. He regretted lingering and damned himself that he couldn’t find the courage to object more clearly, then he damned Snape for not taking a hint. Once there, he flattened his palms on the cold wooden table and looked up at Snape for directions which he was given a moment later.

“Hew this evenly,” Snape began in a tone he would use while teaching a class as he handed him some kind of root that resembled a potato that had been rolled and mutilated. “And make sure each segment is about the same width as a galleon.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said, examining the weird root. He knew it was probably too late to back out of this horrible situation he found himself in. It wasn’t as if he had agreed to help him at all, and he wondered if he would’ve had to assist him by force if he had objected from the beginning.

Knowing none of that mattered now, he laid the root over a cutting board and looked around the table for a knife. At that moment, Snape reached over to the side of himself and retrieved a sharp knife that was hidden from Harry’s view as the now boiling cauldron blocked it. He handed it to him with the handle facing Harry, which he took and aligned it to chop one of the ends off so he could begin severing it into the even ‘coins’ Snape wanted.

But Harry swore he felt the root wiggle in his other hand that was holding it still the moment the blade of the knife pierced its outer layer. Not sure if he should continue, he looked to Snape who was paying no attention to his aide, but instead, dicing a root of his own and also decontaminating aconite. Harry remembered the exact class Snape taught a lesson on the poisonous plant.

Harry shook off the memory and spoke.

“Professor? What kind of root is this exactly,” Harry asked as he poked at it with some curiosity. It slightly squirmed a second time, and Harry peered closer at it, wondering if it were related at all to a mandrake.

“Why, did it move?” Snape asked with his eyes still fixed on the aconite he was dabbing a blue potion with. Harry assumed it was to take the poison out of it. He knew that if this step were ignored, his Wolfsbane would be fatal indeed. He wondered if Snape ever considered not decontaminating it, just to see how Lupin would respond. Harry shivered and shook thoughts of Lupin away as he answered.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It moved.” He looked at Snape who raised an eyebrow, though he was still tampering with the poisonous plant.

“Yeah, Potter?”

“I mean yes, sir,” Harry added quickly. “It did move.”

“It moved because it is not a root at all,” Snape said sternly. “It is a worm.”

“A worm? It looks like a root…”

“Are any members in the order Phasmatodea really sticks, Potter?” Harry stared at him, agape.

“What?”

Snape put down the glass dropper he was using to drabble the aconite with and glared at Harry, who bit his lip.

“Walking Sticks, Potter.” Snape growled. “Are Walking Sticks really sticks? Not every creature on this earth is what it appears to be. And I did not expect to have to use such a juvenile term, but I was clearly wrong.” Harry could have swore there was a compliment in there… somewhere, but that was overlooked by the fact that Snape somehow thought Harry would know such a thing. He still didn’t understand, but knew it was best not to mention it.

“So,” Harry began, trying to ignore Snape’s comments as he took the knife back up in his hand and motioned to the worm he had thought was a root. “It’s a worm then?”

“I do believe I had told you as much,” Snape dryly commented. Harry noticed that Snape did not continue with the aconite, but was watching in amusement as Harry nervously wiped the sweat that formed on his brow as he thought of the way the worm would struggle as he dismembered it. Harry ignored the mans tactlessness.

Harry tried cutting it where he had tried to before it had moved, but it only wiggled harder and Harry felt horrible torturing the worm while it was clearly still alive.

“You should try cutting its other end rather than its tail, which you happen to be doing. It will only live longer if you still decide to start chopping it from that side.” Harry quickly glanced at Snape who seemed to be smirking at him, but then turned back to the worm and took his teachers advice and in one swift movement, cut the worms head off. It ceased to move from then on.

Snape went back to his aconite a little while later, and Harry began to chop the rest of the worm into the ‘coin’ pieces Snape needed. He noticed the worm was more root like than he expected it to be. It didn’t have any organs or guts like a regular worm would, it was just solid inside which made it a lot easier to cut seeing how Harry wouldn’t have larva organs on his fingers when he finished.

“Professor,” Harry called once he had completed chopping the worm. He moved the head and its end to the side, but did not banish them since he didn’t know if Snape needed those parts as well. He looked over at Snape who was finishing the last of the long root he was cutting, and Harry thought Snape hadn’t realized he finished with his worm as well, so he called to his teacher again.

“Professor-”

“Yes, Potter, I know. Do you really feel you need to be congratulated?”

“I just thought you didn’t hear me,” Harry snapped.

“How could I not when you are standing three feet away?”

Harry didn’t bother to reply. He knew there was no possible way he would win, anyway. He watched as Snape flicked his wand, which made the worm excess fly into the cauldron, being devoured in the off white, boiling liquid. He physically added the other root he chopped, then stirred, then added the aconite a moment later. He lowered the flames under the cauldron as he spoke to Harry.

“Your assistance is no longer required,” Snape said. Harry felt unbalanced the moment Snape had finished speaking. Half of him was bloody relieved that his teacher wanted him gone and was asked to leave, but the remaining half of him couldn’t have been angrier that this entire time, he was sick with nervousness and anxiety as he thought he would have to remain in the lab all day, but in the end, he only needed to chop a worm that might was well have been a root. He was irritated by the fact that all the apprehension and worry was never necessary.

“Don’t ask me to help you chop a root when you cant have me in the same room with you for ten bloody minutes,” Harry snapped, only realizing he had not meant to say it at all a moment later when Snape smirked up at him.

“First Potter,” Snape began in a tone that could freeze water over. “It was not a root, it was a worm, if you had ever bothered to pay attention to anything I said. And, it wouldn’t have taken ten minutes if you had not acted so sentimentally and imprudent at the mere thought of killing a worm, and finally Potter, no matter how much I agree that I despise your mere presence, your assistance in the Wolfsbane is no longer required seeing as after aconite is admitted to it, it needs to simmer for twenty four hours before it needs to be stirred again. Does it truly break your Gryffindor heart that you are useless for an entire day?”

“Oh,” Harry quickly added and bit his lip. “N- no… I-”

“Need I remind you of your bothersome habit of rambling?” Harry colored a bit, but realized that this was a good time to ask about the book needed, the whole reason for him coming up to the labs in the first place.

“Well, sir, I was just wondering if you might have a book on transfiguration that I could borrow?” Harry asked, awkwardly leaning his weight on his palm that rested on the other end of the table, opposite to Snape. His teacher just raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

“How long have you wanted to ask that?” Snape asked with some amount of interest and amusement in his voice. Harry just bit his lip again, knowing he was making a habit of that, and remained silent until Snape figured out the answer to that and spoke.

“Yes, I do have a book on Transfiguration. Several in fact,” Snape said as he tucked his wand into his cloak. “Come with me, Potter.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief once he was walking out of the lab behind Snape. Now he would be able to get his Transfiguration homework done, and asking wasn’t as hard as he had originally thought.

Snape led him down to the second floor of the house, a floor that Harry was already far to familiar with, and Harry’s teacher stopped before two large wooden doors that were chained locked. Harry remembered the pact the made the day after his arrival here when he went about looking around the house. He realized he had forgotten all about his vow to somehow find a way through the doors.

He realized he fulfilled the promise to himself whether he had forgot about it or not once Snape raised his wand to the large rusting chains and they magically unlocked and disappeared as they were falling to the floor.

As Snape pushed the two doors open, Harry saw dust that had collected on the top of the door frame disperse around them, but a moment later, he forgot all about it once he stepped foot inside the library Snape had led him into.

Harry watched as Snape looked around the large room as if trying to remember something, but he waved it off a moment later and turned to Harry.

“Lets get a few things straight Potter before I allow you to freely roam such an essential part of this house,” he said sternly. Harry nodded.

“All the books in this library are very old, and if I find anything ruined, you will have me to report to, and don’t think about asking your good friend Grib to replace anything because I will know.”

“Ok-”

“And just because I do not have you in the same room with me does not mean I do not know what you are up to,” Snape began and Harry feared what he might be implying, but he was relieved when Snape continued on and explained what he had meant by it. “The house elves will report to me if they so much as see you with water in this room.”

“All right, bu-”

“Quiet. If you get a book off any of the shelves, you better remember to put it back in it’s correct location. Do not leave any books, trash, or anything else lying around. If you use the ladder to get a book off one of the top shelves, you better hope that you break your neck if you fall because if you prove to be careless and irresponsible, I will most certainly break your neck for you.”

Harry half expected for Snape to remind him he had to whisper in the library, but of course he would do no such thing.

“The books on this side of the library,” Snape began as he motioned to the right side of him. “Are all arranged according to subject. You will find everything on Transfiguration on the second shelf, third row.”

Snape turned to leave from the library, and before he knew it wouldn’t be wise, Harry called back to him.

“Sir?” Snape stopped and turned around with an arched brow.

“Th-”

“Potter,” Snape cut in, interjecting through Harry’s would be feeble attempt at a ‘thanks’. “If I find you have broken any of the rules I’ve set out, you might just find yourself banned from the school library once the new school term starts. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Harry said, and with that, Snape left the library with his black robes billowing behind him. He closed the door with an audible click, and Harry looked around the vast library half expecting Snape to come back in and laugh in his face saying something like ‘you really thought I’d let you have access to my library? Foolish idiot.’

Harry actually waited a full two minutes before realizing that Snape wasn’t going to do that.