Vernon Dursley looked at the letter in his hands that one of those pestilential birds had just dropped on his head. A letter from those freaks! He ripped it open and quickly read the contents, and an unholy gleam came to his eyes as he looked at the boy cowering against the wall in front of him. After all these years of putting up with the freak, finally justice was going to be served!

“Read it!” He thrust the piece of parchment at the whelp. The boy timidly took the letter from his uncle and read it quickly, eyes becoming bigger behind the round frames in surprise; and what colour remained in his face, drained, leaving him as pale as the parchment the letter had been written upon.

Vernon crossed his arms, kneading his biceps with his meaty hands. “Conveniently forgot to tell us, didn’t you boy! Forgot to mention that you aren’t supposed to do m – m – m – that unnatural stuff outside of school!” he growled, face slowly starting to change colour.

“But I didn’t…” the boy whinged, peering up at the humongous man.

“Don’t lie to me, boy! I’ve had enough of your freakishness, I tell you, ENOUGH!” Vernon’s voice raised in volume at the same rate as his blood pressure; his neck and face turning purple as the vein at his temple throbbed so much that Harry thought it looked like it was going to rupture any second. “I am going to make sure this never happens again!”

Harry took a step back away from the monster in front of him, but ran into the corner of the wall. He could hear his fat cousin giggling in malicious gleefulness from the top of the stairs at the prospect of him getting punished by Vernon. His aunt had disappeared after cleaning the mess the house-elf had made of her pudding and parlour. He never could count on her to help him; she always let Vernon deal with Harry as he saw fit. His eyes darted everywhere looking for an escape route, but saw none as his uncle closed the small gap between them. Involuntarily, he started shaking in fear, scrabbling with his hands at the unyielding wall behind him, fingernails ripping in his desperation. He even knew it wouldn’t help when he pleaded with his uncle, “Please, please, noooo…”, but the words tumbled from his mouth as the oldest part of his brain took over.  He had never seen his uncle this furious before. It certainly surpassed the time when he had set the snake free at the zoo.

His uncle finally reached the boiling point and struck out at Harry with a surprisingly quick cuff to his nephew’s head, bouncing it off the wall and dropping Harry like a stone to the hallway floor. Before Harry could react, the man had strode over to him, kicking and pummelling the small boy while yelling as to how this would be the last time Harry would ruin anything for this family.

Harry screamed, trying to protect his face and head with his arms, but Vernon kept up his own shouting and kicking, saying he would beat the unnaturalness out of the boy! Harry could feel, and hear, bones snapping, although he knew Vernon probably didn’t, the man’s rage overshadowed all his other senses. He kept trying to protect himself, curling in to protect his organs, but it didn’t seem to help. It just made Vernon angrier and more aggressive as he tried to find someplace he hadn’t already pummelled into a pulp. Harry thought, perhaps, this time he would probably die – but he wouldn’t give up trying to desperately protect some part of himself.

Vernon kept on like this for a few minutes until he tired of the game and then pulled his belt off, using it to whip the boy anywhere he could get the huge silver belt-buckle to reach. The boy had stopped screaming and was only whimpering as the massive piece of metal kept whistling through the air to land on the cringing child, causing welts and dents in the flesh to tear open and bleed all over Petunia’s pristine floor. The activity purged the man’s system of his fury and, running out of steam, he finally opened the cupboard door under the stairs, threw the limp bundle of weeping rags into it; barely noticing as it landed haphazardly across the padlocked school trunk, striking its head against an exposed two by four along the back wall with a loud crack.

He slammed the door behind him, shot home the bolt, and locked the padlock on the hasp before entering the kitchen where his darling Petunia was dishing up some ice cream for the delayed pudding. Dudley laughed maniacally again as he hopped down the stairs, making sure to jump several times on each middle step that lay over his cousin’s jail. Unfortunately, for the baby whale, his efforts went unnoticed by his victim, who was currently unconscious.

***

Severus Snape, premier Potions Master of the United Kingdom, was thoroughly enjoying his summer. Well, as much as a former Death Eater - who taught children he despised for most of the year, and hated most of his life otherwise - could enjoy. He had the dungeons at Hogwarts all to himself; he had already finished Pomfrey’s restock order of potions for the infirmary and was spending the remaining weeks experimenting before the brats reappeared in September.

He added the next ingredient to his potion, checking his notes as he did so. Yes, four ounces of ground monarch butterfly wings gently dusted evenly across the surface of the potion. Perfect. The iridescent rainbow shimmers were just the right consistency and matched his theory perfectly. He began to stir with the gold rod, so that it added just the right amount of reaction to the potion. One… two… three… four… five… six…

“Severus? Are you there, my boy? I need to speak with you urgently!”

He was not thrilled when he heard the headmaster’s voice coming from the floo in his private quarters. The moment of hesitancy caused him to lose count in his stirring of his latest experiment and the potion congealed right before his eyes into a glutinous mess as he apparently took one rotation too many.

With a disgusted sigh and a wave of his hand, he evanesco-ed the contents and levitated the cauldron over to the sink sideboard to await cleaning. If it wasn’t weeks until the start of term, he might even have left it for a detention – but it was one of his favourite cauldrons and he wanted to keep it in its pristine condition. Maybe he would wait for school to start and assign it to Potter’s first detention; the boy always managed to clean his cauldrons the best… No, too long to wait, he mused as he turned to leave his private lab.

“Albus, this had better be something dire for you to call and make me ruin an experiment!” he thundered as he stormed into his sitting room.

“May I step through?” the old wizard asked. Severus waved him in with a muttered “Fine, you may as well,” and joined his mentor in the wing chairs in front of the fire.

“Alright, Albus, what is it?” Snape asked, while resting his elbows on the armrests and clasping his hands over his midriff.

“Harry has just gotten a warning for underage use of magic…” the wizened old man began.

“So? That happens all the time with Muggleborns, I don’t see the urgency,” sniffed Severus with disdain. In fact he was surprised it didn’t happen more often than it did, especially with Potter.

“And normally, that would be the case – a warning from the department of Misuse of Underage Magic and that would be that. The urgency comes in, my boy, with the fact that the blood ward warnings went off soon afterwards. Something has happened to jeopardize the boy’s safety in the home.”

“Safety!” Snape sneered. “Albus, I told you at the beginning of term that Potter did not look right! I suspected abuse then, but you wouldn’t listen to Minerva or me.”

“Yes, yes, I know – but none of it was physical abuse that threatened his life,” he said sounding totally reasonable in his convictions.

Severus just looked at his headmaster incredulously. He would never get Dumbledore to understand that deprivation and verbal abuse was just as bad as physical blows – sometimes worse. He had given up trying, as a matter of fact, after years of trying to get the man to see reason, and just handled what cases he could find on his own, in his own Slytherin way. For instance, with Potter he had the elves spike his juice all year with a nutrient potion, as the boy appeared to be malnourished when he had arrived at the school. He would’ve taken a more direct hand in the situation if he could, but the boy had not been sorted into his house, and he had to maintain his distance from James’ son; it was expected of him. Besides, he wasn’t completely convinced that Potter was only verbally abused and woefully neglected; he was too skittish at times, suggesting that physical abuse may be mixed in with everything else. How he wished the boy had been sorted into his house so he could have taken a more direct hand.

“And I take it you believe this has changed?” he enquired dryly, not letting his thoughts play out on his face.

The old coot popped a sweet, from some hidden pocket in his robes, into his mouth, nodding in the affirmative. “I need you to check on his well-being and remove him if you think the situation warrants it.”

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why me?” he mumbled to himself.

“You have more experience with Muggles than I do…” Albus started to reply.

Severus glared over at the other man. “That was a rhetorical question,” he stated flatly.

“Oh.” Dumbledore paused a moment. “Then you’ll go?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, I’ll go,” he sighed. I owe it to her, he thought quietly to himself.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore grinned.

***

Harry was caught in a nightmare. He twisted and turned, moaning in his sleep as he relived his uncle’s beating. He felt himself trying to protect his body and head by holding up his arms, only to get them strapped by Vernon’s belt buckle. He writhed in his dream, and on top of his trunk, unable to escape.

His dream morphed into that of going after the stone. He tried to yell out warnings to his dream self, but he was ignored. He screamed when Ron was hit by the queen and went down with the rubble of his knight. And he screamed even harder when Quirrell removed his turban and Voldemort’s face appeared at the back of his teacher’s skull, the red eyes piercing his brain as they came closer and closer… He heard his mother’s scream and a flash of green light, as he screamed even more!

A loud pounding on his door startled him to a semi-awake state as his uncle yelled through the air vent to shut up or Vernon would do the shutting up for him. Then Vernon did the worst thing he could do to Harry in the middle of a hot summer night: he shut the vent, effectively shutting out any fresh air. Harry hovered for several minutes between the land of sleep and painful wakefulness wondering, not for the first time, if there was anyone who truly cared for him. He hadn’t heard from his friends – but he soon remembered that it was Dobby’s fault he hadn’t received their letters. He wished he had an adult he could turn to, but he had yet to find one… none of them cared, none of them wanted a skinny, runty kid… Harry fell back into unconsciousness, unshed tears glistening in his eyes, as the air got warmer, and more foetid.

***

Snape flooed to Arabella Figg’s house, frightening the numerous cats into setting up a yowling when he stepped out of the fireplace into her parlour. Obviously an effective intruder alert, he thought amusedly.

Arabella quickly walked into the room, hastily shoving her arms into her dressing gown, exclaiming when she saw the tall, dark and menacing Potions Master, “Well, it is about time!” She glared up at the dour man, hands now placed firmly on her hips.

That startled Snape, and he turned his gaze upon her. “About time?”

“I’ve been complaining to Dumbledore constantly about that poor boy’s home life with Pet – but he just shrugs it off, and then the wards went off tonight!” She huffed to herself, crossing her arms across her chest in peevishness.

Severus thought quickly; he needed to get over to Potter’s house and did not have time to waste, but maybe Arabella was the linchpin he had been looking for all year.

“Arabella, could you write down all your observations for me and owl them to me at the castle? If Potter is really in trouble, I will need corroborating evidence later.”

“Of course, of course…” she nattered at him. “I’ve been doing that all this while – Dumbledore would never accept them!”

Severus strode to the front door, avoiding the cats like a pro. “Thank you, Arabella, it will be an immense help!” He opened the door, and after performing an invisibility charm on himself, strode down Wisteria Lane to where it connected with Privet Drive.

Stepping over the low garden wall of number four, taking in quickly the almost military precision of the landscaping, he hurried to the front door where a quick Alohamora gained him entrance. He gently closed the door behind him, muttered a Finite and then Lumos to light his wand tip.

Photos adorned the hallway of the immaculately kept house – all of them showing Petunia’s humongous get. The boy definitely took after his father: same fat face, same abundance of blond wavy hair, same small piggy eyes. Severus had met Vernon at Petunia’s wedding – still going out with Lily at the time – and had not been very impressed with the man. He remembered that his love hadn’t been either – and she had felt that Tuney could have done better for herself. But the horsy woman had insisted that Vernon loved her, and she him and nothing anyone in the neighbourhood said could change her mind. He snorted at the abundance of photos and noted that not a single one showed Potter.

Some sort of sixth sense urged him to use a point-me spell to find Potter, rather than heading straight upstairs to the bedrooms. He was therefore none too surprised when the wand pointed to the cupboard under the stairs. ‘They wouldn’t have…’

He shook his head slightly at the padlock on the hasp and vanished it immediately. It had not been a recent addition, showing wear and tear. So this was not something new. Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, he slid back the bolt, carefully opened the door and nearly gagged at the miasma that wafted from the tiny space. He reached to pull the string for the light and muttered an oath when it didn’t come on; they had removed the bulb.

He lit his wand again and found the limp bundle of rags that was a beaten, broken, bleeding and battered Harry Potter, huddled in the corner under the stair risers on top of his chained school trunk. He gently levitated the boy off the trunk and onto the hall floor, sneering at the padlock and chains around it, which he promptly vanished and, knowing the owl had to be somewhere nearby, Accio-ed the rest of Harry’s possessions. He heard a door creak open above him and soon a pitifully small parade of items – including the caged owl who peered around curiously, but thankfully stayed quiet – floated down the stairs into the now open trunk. Letting the owl loose out the front door with the instructions to fly to Hogwarts, Snape shrunk the trunk, placed it in his pocket, grabbed the Portkey from his other pocket and lifted Potter into his arms making sure he had a firm hold on the boy before whispering the activation phrase that whisked them off to Hogwarts infirmary.  'Merlin, Lily – what have they done to your son?’ he thought to himself as the magic pulled them forward.

***

Severus deposited the boy on the closest bed and was about to start cleaning him up when the head nurse walked in.

“Severus, what… who is that?" she demanded, tightening the belt on her dressing gown, as if girding herself for battle, and throwing her greying plait over her shoulder, pulled her wand out of her front pocket.

“Potter,” he answered shortly as he proceeded to vanish the boy’s clothes – obviously hand-me-downs from the whale boy – and cast a Scourgify afterwards.

“Potter? What happened? Who did this?” she questioned him as she looked down at the small battered form.

“His relatives,” Severus snapped out then lit the area better with an hanging orb of light.

This let the adults see the extent of the damage done to the pitifully small body. His innate magic had already begun to heal the myriad of small cuts and bruises, but the gash on the side of his head was clearly evident and had broken open again to seep blood onto the white hospital sheets. Fractures in the legs, arms and ribs were clearly visible, as well as the welts, and puncture marks, that had risen from Vernon’s studded belt.

Pomfrey looked horrified for a moment before her training kicked in and she began to take wand readings and Accio-ed potions and salves as well as Potter’s already well-padded chart from her office filing cabinet.

Severus helped administer the medicines by spelling the potions into the boy’s stomach and set the broken bones as she catalogued the numerous injuries that had occurred recently as well as in the past. She had never done this before, not suspecting physical abuse of the boy, but with the evidence clearly in front of her she could now officially use the deep scans to determine how many, and the age of each offence to the boy. Only her training kept her from exclaiming, and her eyes dry, as she watched the information begin its lengthy list down the pages of his chart. Instead of tears, in fact, her eyes hardened as she took in the degree of the abuse. Those Muggles should be incarcerated at the least!

Snape noticed that the headmaster had wandered in at some point and was standing nearby, silently watching the proceedings, his eyes sorrowful as they peered over the half-moon glasses. Poppy finally stepped back after conjuring a set of pyjamas on Harry and tucking him in under the warm blankets – the castle still a bit draughty despite it being the summer.

Dumbledore finally cleared his throat to gain their attention.

“Yes, Albus, I know you’re there,” Poppy said wearily, without looking at the headmaster, as she finished making notes in the chart, her lips pursed in disgust.

“How is he?”

“He’ll live,” she snapped, slamming the folder down on a nearby nightstand, finally turning her wrath on him. “No thanks to his guardians! Blood wards or not, Albus, he can’t go back there.” She waved her finger under his nose.

“Not this year, at least,” he prevaricated, stepping back from the angry witch.

“Never!” she declared, jamming her fists on her hips as she leaned towards him. “He should never go back there!”

Severus just stood at the head of Potter’s bed, watching Pomfrey give Dumbledore the dressing down they both felt he deserved. Maybe he wouldn’t need Figg’s journals – but no, he probably should read them; they may yet serve some purpose.

“Perhaps. It may be a moot point – the wards have fallen,” Albus said with a sigh.

Severus sniffed at the news; served tuna-breath, and that monster husband of hers, right. He sent a silent thank you to the heavens for the karmic balance and vowed he might tilt the balance a little more in Harry’s favour by letting this little bit of information loose to certain people and letting them handle the problem. It was the least he could do.

The headmaster turned towards his potions professor. “You’ve been silent, Severus.”

Severus looked askance at his superior, raising a haughty eyebrow. “What is there to say, sir? I have retrieved Potter for you, we have healed him of his physical injuries.” He waved a hand to include Poppy in his comments. “However, with the wards failing, what are you planning to do with him for the rest of the summer? What do you have in mind to help heal his mind, seeing as how it most likely will be nearly shattered – not that I blame him, after seeing how his loving family pampered him – and don’t you dare twinkle at me, old man!” he warned, as he saw the beginnings of a sparkle in his mentor’s eyes signalling that Albus had, what he obviously thought, was a splendid plan. “You haven’t read that report yet, I have!”

“Severus, you are the only one staying here the rest of the summer – well, except for Sybill…”

“Perish the thought!” the dark man snorted in derision at the thought of Potter being looked after by the dingbat of the divination tower.

“My thoughts exactly. You know Lily would want you to watch over and guide her son…”

“That is low and dirty even for you,” growled Severus, looking thunderous at the manipulation.

“But I’m right.” His eyes dared to twinkle as the edge of his mouth turned upwards.

“Yes, damn you, you’re right,” he said under his breath. He glared at his mentor for several moments. “All right, I’ll take over his guardianship - for the time being,” he added as a caveat.

”Splendid! I’ll go ask the house-elves to add a room to your suite.”

“Fine,” Severus surrendered. “Here is Potter’s trunk.” He handed the headmaster the shrunken trunk from his pocket.

After the man had left, Severus conjured a comfortable chair and reading lamp and, summoning a few journals from his rooms, settled in next to his new ward to wait for Harry to wake up. Well, he could also daydream about James rotating in his grave; he snickered quietly to himself.

The first thing that Harry noticed, as he slowly came awake, was the late afternoon light filtering through his eyelids. He was confused: daylight never entered his cupboard. Then he noticed he lay on something soft and warm. That was odd; he distinctly remembered being thrown into the cupboard onto his trunk, which was anything but warm and soft.

Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked quickly as he began to recognise the infirmary at Hogwarts – albeit a bit blurry. Before he could reach for them, a potion stained hand in a black sleeve handed him his frames and he reflexively shoved them on his face, blinking his eyes quickly to shed the sleep sand out of them.

Looking to his right he was astonished to see Professor Snape sitting there gazing at him, as if Harry was an interesting potion ingredient, with a slight uplift to his lips on one side. It wasn’t quite a sneer, and it wasn’t quite a smile. Harry was confused.

“Finally awake, Potter,” stated the silky voice. “I’m sure it will interest you to know it is nearly dinnertime and you’ve been here for two days, in a healing sleep.”

“Professor,” Harry acknowledged quietly. He looked around the room some more. “Erm, sir? Why am I here?” While he could recollect being thrown into the cupboard, he had a hazy understanding of what went on before. He remembered the house-elf coming and dropping the violet pudding, but everything after that was a blur – until he was thrown in the closet.

Severus steepled his hands as his black gaze studied Harry. “Apparently, after your little bout of underage magic, your uncle decided to retaliate physically against you; repealing the blood wards around the house in the process as your aunt declined to intervene. This alerted the headmaster and he sent me to pick you up before more damage could occur,” he stated calmly, still studying the boy in front of him.

“The wards failed?” Harry asked a bit dazed.

Snape shrugged a bit. “Apparently.” He changed the topic. “How are you feeling, Potter?”

“Erm – fine, sir?” Even if he did feel sore in some places, he wasn’t about to admit that to the one man guaranteed to sneer at him for it.

“Madam Pomfrey will be gratified.” He set aside his journal and leaned in a bit towards the Gryffindor; interested to see the boy was still wary of him as he leaned back away from his professor. “She and I spent quite some time the other night healing you. By the way, Potter, just out of curiosity – what bit of magic did you do?”

Harry coloured at the question, looking down at his hands folded in his lap, although Severus noted the knuckles were white with tension. “I didn’t sir – it wasn’t me, I swear it!” he hastened to explain at his professor’s raised eyebrow, which he had just caught as he looked up. “It was a – a – a…” He screwed up his face as he tried to remember. “He called himself a house-elf, sir, named… Dobby?”

“A house-elf named Dobby?” Snape asked with a certain scorn in his voice. Harry curled back on himself, nodding his head vigorously, as he pulled his knees up in an unconscious protective stance. Snape saw the move for what it was, but chose not to comment at this time, however he did settle himself back in his chair and noticed the boy visibly relaxed a bit as he did so. He would have to be careful in the future until Harry began to trust him more.

“Y-y-y-yes, sir,” the boy stammered. “He said he came to warn me to stay away from Hogwarts this year, that something bad would happen to me if I came back.” He frowned to himself as he remembered the argument he’d had with the strange little creature. “When I refused, he caused my aunt’s pudding to land on top of her dinner guests. Then he just disappeared with a snap of his fingers, making it look like I did it!” Harry looked over at his professor to see if the man even believed his story and was astonished to see that, for once, the professor was not sneering at him. “They’re funny little creatures, aren’t they, sir? I’d never seen one before – never even knew they existed…” he commented half to himself, half to his professor.

Severus had to control himself to not laugh outright at the vision the fallen pudding evoked. However, he knew this particular elf, and he wondered why he had taken it upon himself to risk the wrath of Lucius Malfoy to warn Potter. Something was up with Malfoy – but finding out could wait. “And that is when your uncle retaliated?”

Harry, if it was even humanly possible, shrank into himself even further, wrapping his thin arms around his stick legs and resting his cheek on top of his knobbly knees as he swiftly remembered the beating. “Yes, sir,” came the timid reply.

“Hmph.” Severus scrutinized the skinny boy for another moment before seeming to come to a decision. “Madam Pomfrey will be by in a moment for one last check on you, then you are to join me in my office for dinner. We will go over what will happen to you for the rest of the summer at that point.”

Harry popped his head up and looked at the teacher in front of him. “Why, sir?”

This stopped Snape as he rose from his chair. “Why?” He looked bemusedly down at the boy.

“Why you, sir? Why not Professor Dumbledore?” Harry clarified his question.

“Because, as it currently stands, I am the only one staying in the castle who can keep a proper eye on you. And before you ask,” he raised a hand to stop Potter who had opened his mouth, “with the wards down at your relatives’ abode, the castle is currently the only place that is safe enough to protect you.” Harry shut his mouth with an audible snap, but his eyes got large as he noticed the amused look his professor gave him as the older man vanished the chair and reading lamp.

“Ah, right on time, Poppy.” Harry turned to see Madam Pomfrey bustling over, wand at the ready. “Potter, I will expect you in my office in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.” With a courteous nod to the Medi-witch, he turned, letting his robes billow behind him as his long strides took him quickly from the infirmary. Harry leaned forward on his bed to watch him walk away.

“Wish I knew how he manages that little trick…” he murmured as Pomfrey came to stand beside him, and pushed him back on the pillows.

“Don’t we all!” she said sotto-voce. “All right, Mr Potter, lay back so I can get some readings on you… very good… yes, yes… that is fine. Up you get now, how is your head feeling? You had a nasty slice and concussion.” Harry sat back up against the pillows as he felt his head with his hands.

“Fine, Ma’am.” It was still sore, but he didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary in the ward. He spent enough time there during the school year; he didn’t need to spend his summer hols there as well!

“Good.” She summoned some bottles to the table beside her. “Drink these, please.” She smiled at Harry’s grimace of distaste as he quickly downed the potions, one by one. She handed one last, very large bottle to him and his eyes got huge as he stared at it, a visible lump jumping in his throat. “No, Mr Potter, you do not need to down the whole thing,” she chuckled. “Just a tablespoon full with each meal until it is finished – it does best when mixed with pumpkin juice,” she confided conspiratorially. Harry gave a huge sigh of relief and nodded at her explanation.

“Now, let’s get you into some clothes.” She waved her wand, transfiguring his pyjamas into a pair of denims and a t-shirt while two pieces of tissue became a pair of trainers. Harry pulled these on and, thanking the witch profusely, headed out the infirmary doors at a run – he only had five minutes to make it to Snape’s office.

****

Arriving out of breath, Harry steeled his nerves with a few deep breaths to calm down before he knocked on the office door and pushed it open when he heard the muffled “Enter.” Harry really wasn’t thrilled to be back in the man’s office. He had spent enough detentions this past year with him, and the dungeons always felt creepy to him.

“Take a seat, Potter,” commanded his professor. Harry hoisted himself onto the hard wooden chair in front of the desk, dangling his feet. He quickly hooked them around the chair legs so they wouldn’t swing, and gazed at the man who had the reputation of being the meanest teacher in the school, and who had shown his clear contempt for Harry during the past year. He had, however, saved Harry at least twice now, and this just left him confused about the wizard. As a result, he tried to carefully school his expression to one of wary anticipation. If he had to spend the rest of the summer with the wizard – he wasn’t going start things off wrong by provoking him now!

Severus finished up his writing, placing the quill in the pen stand and capping his inkwell before pushing the papers aside and taking a long look at his charge seated in front of him. He saw a small-for-his-age boy who appeared barely nine years of age instead of nearly twelve. Underweight, terrified of his fate and yet a glint of Gryffindor bravado shone in his green eyes. He was twisting his hands in his lap and had bitten his lower lip to keep it from trembling, but he met Snape’s eyes straight on. Severus grudgingly approved of that. It would not do to have the boy cowering the entire summer.

“Before we head into my quarters for dinner, I thought we should go over the specifics of your remaining summer weeks,” he began.

“Yes, sir?”

Severus reached for a blank piece of parchment and a never-out quill, which he set to dictation mode. “Let’s start with basics,” he said as the quill began to write on its own accord, taking notes. “Albus has transferred your guardianship to me for the time being. As such, it is my responsibility to you to make sure you are well fed,” he began ticking off the points on his fingers as he paced in front of the desk, “cared for, provided for, and I carry the overall responsibility for any disciplinary action that may need to be taken. Do you understand?” He halted and faced Harry, arms crossed on his chest.

Harry was dumbstruck for a moment. Snape was his permanent guardian? And he just told him what rules Snape had to abide by for Harry? No one had ever laid out this information for him before. “Erm… I think so. You can’t be any worse than the Dursleys…” Harry offered quietly, looking down at his hands, tangled in his lap.

“I should hope I am better!” Snape snorted. “Do you have any questions?”

Harry wriggled a bit on his chair; he did have a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. Best to get it done with now. “What kind of ‘disciplinary action’ sir?” he whispered.

Snape raised his eyebrows at that. “It depends on the infraction, Potter. Knowing you, most of the punishments will be of the sort you get during detentions during the school term.” The small boy sighed in relief. “However, if you place yourself in mortal danger, I reserve the right to use corporal punishment. This would involve my hand meeting your bare behind for a minimum of five spanks. That is the only place that would get smacked. I do not believe in beatings for the sole reason of hurting a child, Mr Potter. It is to be used as a deterrent and a reminder only – not as a reason to abuse. I prefer not to use that method – but you do need to know that, should you endanger yourself, that would be the consequence. Is this acceptable?”

Harry looked surprised; Snape was asking him? What bizarre world had he entered into? “Erm… yes, sir. Thank you, for letting me know?”

Snape sighed. “Potter, contrary to popular opinion, I do not delight in abusing children – I do believe in making sure that they are aware of the consequences of their actions.”

Harry found himself having a bit of a revelation. “You mean like in class, when you are so strict – it’s because of the potions, isn’t it? They could be really harmful?” he asked the stern man in front of him.

“Exactly so, Potter. Last term, your potions were simple affairs – if one blew up, it was not truly life threatening – but safety habits need to be learned now so that as you progress, you will be able to handle the more potent potions where a slip-up could mean loss of limb or even life. Is this clear, now?” Harry nodded his head vigorously. A lot of things were clearer now – although he still thought the professor was a bit too strict, and should’ve explained it more in the beginning of term.

“Let’s hope so, Mr Potter. After dinner we will go through your clothing and school supplies and determine what I need to get you…”

“I’m fine sir, I don’t need anything,” Harry jumped in with a look of trepidation in his eyes as his head snapped up and he watched the man pace again in front of him. He didn’t need Snape to see his cousin’s hand-me-downs, adding more fuel to the fire of Snape’s reasons to ridicule and sneer at Harry. Besides, he never wanted to be indebted to the man; he had his own money to get supplies.

“I shall be the judge of that, Potter,” he snapped out and Harry flinched a bit at the severity of Snape’s voice. Severus modulated his tone when he noticed the involuntary movement. “I understand that you feel that you can take care of yourself, and have done so for the last year, at least.” He stopped his pacing and faced the boy, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring down his nose at him, as he sat on the front edge of his desk. “However, as your guardian, I am supposed to see to those needs. It is part of my responsibility to you to make sure you are outfitted adequately. Now, have you finished your summer work yet?”

Harry shook his head. “No, sir,” he admitted truthfully as he knew there was no way he could get away with a falsehood with Snape. He was convinced, after several incidents during the previous term, that the wizard could read minds. “Uncle Vernon locked all my books up in my trunk with my wand and school clothes and I wasn’t allowed to go near it.”

Snape nodded at the confession; it verified what he had already deduced was the answer. Arabella’s journals had arrived while Harry was still unconscious and healing in the infirmary, and he had barely begun perusing them; but already he knew that Dursley was not a fit guardian for anyone, much less the saviour of the wizarding world. The man was unnaturally lucky that Potter’s accidental magic hadn’t blown up in his face during the beatings. And Dumbledore would have to answer a lot of questions in the future. However, he needed to get the boy sorted out first. “Well, as part of your responsibilities as my ward, I will be setting a study schedule for you and I will be checking your work as you go. After we check your trunk, we will go to Diagon Alley in the morning for your supplies and next year’s books so that you can get a head start. Now, follow me.” He rose from the edge of his desk and made his way to a portrait hanging in the back of his office of a severe medieval gentleman surrounded by two snakes.

“Salazar,” he greeted the portrait. The snakes hissed at Severus and Harry’s green eyes grew sharp as he heard them.

*Master has a young one with him.*

*Issss he taking it home?*

Before Severus could even give the password, he heard a hissing from beside him and startled, looked down at his ward.

*My name issss Harry* he hissed. *What’ssss yourssss?*

The portrait answered instead of the snakes. * A ssspeaker! It hasss been a long time ssssince we have had a ssspeaker! I’m Sssalazar Sssslytherin, young ssssnake ssspeaker, and thessse are my familiarsss – Ssssthor and Ssssthan.*

“Potter,” Severus interrupted, his voice low and even, “when were you going to tell anyone that you are a Parselmouth?”

“A what, sir?” asked Harry, quite surprised at the question.

“A Parselmouth, Potter; you speak with snakes.”

“I know,” Harry said non-chalantly. “Wait, you mean it sounds different?” He looked incredulous.

“Didn’t you hear yourself just now? That was Parseltongue.”

“Really? It sounds just like English to me, professor. I talked to a snake in the zoo, once… but I bet loads of wizards can do it, can’t they?” He looked up at his professor, honestly puzzled by this new information.

“No, Potter, ‘loads of wizards’ can’t. It is a very rare talent. The Dark Lord had that ability, and Salazar Slytherin did as well.” He deliberately ignored the chuckling of the painting in front of him.

“Don’t scare him, Severus. ‘Tis a noble trait to have, young snake speaker,” the portrait chimed in, winking at Harry.

Severus sighed at the look of consternation on Harry’s face. “Come along, Potter, we will discuss this later. Right now it is time to eat.” He finally gave the painting the password, which he told Harry to memorize, and led Harry through the hole into a short passageway, lit by a few torches, that led to yet another door which opened onto his quarters.

Harry looked around at his professor’s quarters as Snape shut the panel behind him. It certainly did not look as he had imagined. He had figured, being in the dungeons and the fact that the man was so nasty, that the room would be dank and wet, with sparse furnishings and maybe some chains and manacles, like Filch, on the walls. At least that was the rumour according to the Gryffindor common room gossips – namely Fred and George - who delighted in scaring first-years with that speculation. He couldn’t wait to tell those two how wrong they were!

Instead, the walls were lined with dark, warm, mahogany bookcases in the main room; a couple of dark leather wingback chairs flanked a comfortable sofa with a low, highly polished coffee table, and faced the floo with matching ottomans. The main door was off to his left and to his right a corridor t-squared into the room and beyond that opening was the dining area with a round pedestal table and four chairs surrounding it. Steam from the food platters was rising from where they sat in the centre of the table.

Severus moved past Harry and led him to the table. As Harry took his seat, Severus served the boy half portions of the food, knowing he would be lucky to finish even that amount. Harry placed his potion bottle on the table after stirring in the required one tablespoon into his juice and, taking a deep breath before tasting the potion laced drink, was surprised that he could detect no change in taste when he took that first sip.

“Something surprise you, Potter?” Severus asked slyly as he served up his own portions of Shepherds pie and a salad.

“Just my juice, professor. I thought the taste would change when I added the potion… hold on…” He dipped a finger into the neck of the bottle and tasted a drop of the potion. He made a face at the taste, and gulped some more juice. “It tastes exactly the same as it has all year… someone’s been adding this to my juice all year?” He looked over at his professor, who just shrugged as he resumed eating. Harry narrowed his eyes in quiet accusation.

“You appeared here a bit undernourished; Poppy and I agreed to take matters into our own hands,” Severus finally explained. “You’re not the first student we’ve done that for,” he pointed out.

Harry wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that information. He took a few bites of pie as he mulled it over in his head. It was surprising to realise that someone had been watching out for him all year, and had been concerned enough to spike his juice with nutritive potion. A strange warm feeling glowed in his chest, as he understood the meaning of this for the first time: an adult actually cared about his well-being! Finally he looked up at the man and said a quiet “Thank you”.

“You’re welcome. Now eat up, that potion needs to have fuel to work with.” Harry obeyed the man, but still was unable to finish the portion he had been served; his stomach had shrunk too much during the time he had been at the Dursleys. Severus took note of the amount eaten and reassured the boy.

“Don’t worry, Potter. You’ll soon be eating regular portions. The potion will help in the meantime.” Harry just nodded his understanding and finished sipping his juice until it was gone.

When they were finished with dinner, Severus tapped the table twice with his wand and the dishes vanished back to the kitchens. “When it is meal time, just tap the table once and the food will appear,” he explained. “From now on, no skimping on meals! Try to eat a little bit more each day until you can eat a full portion.” Harry nodded at the new rule. “Leave your potions bottle here and I will show you the rest of the rooms.” He led Harry on a short tour, showing where the door to his private potions lab was – which Harry was under strict orders to never enter unless specified by Snape, and led him down the hall where he pointed out his own room – again with the same restrictions - and the new room for Harry.

“This will be your room, Potter. That door, over there, leads to a bathroom and that one next to it is your clothes cupboard. If there is anything in here that does not please you, blame it on the headmaster – he decorated it.” He snorted, looking around at the decidedly Gryffindor furnishings and colour scheme.

Harry was beside himself in happiness – a whole room with an ensuite all to himself! “It’s brilliant, professor. I wouldn’t change anything!” He saw the owl perch standing next to his desk where his owl’s empty cage stood. He almost smacked himself for forgetting about Hedwig until now. “Professor, my owl…” he said, slightly panicked.

“Is upstairs in the Owlery, Mr Potter. You may go and see her when we return tomorrow afternoon, if we have time. Otherwise you may see her the next day.” Harry heaved a sigh of relief at this bit of information and walked over to his trunk; he really needed to write to Ron and Hermione and explain everything. Ron was going to blow when he found out Harry was staying with Snape. That brought up a question, though.

“Ah, sir? What can I tell my friends?”

Severus thought about this for a moment before answering. “You may tell them what happened as to why you never received their missives. You may also say that you have been removed from your aunt and uncle’s; but you may not tell them where you are now, nor with whom you are staying.” The boy actually looked satisfied at this answer as he nodded his understanding. He returned to his original task of actually opening his trunk.

He was a bit embarrassed at the state of everything; he had just thrown his stuff in at end of term. Snape watched him for a moment before deciding to lend a hand.

“Granted our leaving your relatives was a bit hurried, but after this I don’t ever want to see this trunk in this state again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said resignedly. Well, with a caring adult came the expectations, he supposed.

Severus actually began looking at the clothes that were being pulled out of the trunk. “Potter, what is this? Why are these in your trunk? They are at least six sizes too big for you!”

“Erm, these are my clothes, sir. They’re my cousin’s hand-me-downs; that’s all I was allowed to wear.” He coloured up as he looked down at his transfigured trainers. He really hadn’t wanted to reveal that – but he knew the professor wouldn’t tolerate a lie.

Snape pinched his nose in consternation. So, those Muggles had another thing to answer for: he knew Albus had been paying them a monthly stipend to cover such things as food, clothing and other items for the boy. Obviously they had been pocketing it all and denying everything decent and necessary for the child. He conjured another dicta-quill and parchment to start, what was sure to be, a lengthy shopping list.

“Potter…” he began, then thought better of it. “Never mind, just pile up your cousin’s rags over there… is that all of them? Fine. Incendio!” Harry jumped back as his cousin’s old clothes caught fire with a sudden whoosh, and turned to ash in a matter of seconds, which Snape vanished with a wave of his hand. Harry grinned – he had wanted to do that to those stinky old things of Dudley’s for years! Snape then turned to the pile of school clothes and underwear that was left; the boy’s first-year books being placed neatly on the desk with leftover parchment, some ragged quills, and quarter-full bottle of ink. Hagrid’s gift of the photo album held a place of honour on the nightstand and Harry’s wand was back in his rear pocket of his jeans. He felt more complete with it back where it belonged.

“Two robes – decent shape – they should last this year, but we’ll pick you up a couple more, just in case, as hopefully you will grow. Definitely need more jumpers, shirts and slacks as well as several more pairs of pants that actually fit.” The quill flashed along the parchment as he threw the greying pants on the floor and those followed the previous pile of clothes into ash. “Those transfigured trainers will last you, but will then revert back tomorrow evening, Madame Pomfrey always uses temporary spells for that sort of thing – so, a few pairs of shoes and socks.” He went on muttering to himself as he continued the list for the shopping trip. Harry, meanwhile, was counting up the galleons in his head. Why did he need a new grooming kit? So what if his comb was missing a few teeth and his toothbrush bristles were mushed; they did the job, didn’t they? Why so many clothes? Snape was even talking about casual clothes now, much less school supplies! Harry just shook his head to himself; he wasn’t worth all this fuss.

“Professor, you don’t have to do this. I’m really fine with what I have,” he attempted to interject pleadingly.

“Potter, trust me when I tell you, that what you possess is not even the bare minimum required!” the professor sneered.

“But I bought what was on the list…” he tried to point out.

“You bought?” Snape twirled around to face Harry, eyebrow raised to the highest mast, as the quill screeched to a stop, nearly ripping a hole in the parchment, and hovered in midair, fletchings quivering as it eagerly awaited more instructions.

“Yes, sir. Last August, when Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies, I got money from my trust account and bought everything that was on the list…”

“Potter, that list is a guideline. Most parents would know to get more of each item for their children.” He pinched his nose and tried another tact to make the boy understand, as Harry was giving him a totally bewildered look. “How many sets of clothes did your cousin go off to school with?” He let a partial upturn of the mouth proceed when he saw Harry begin to realise. “But you didn’t have a parent with you, so you wouldn’t have known that,” Severus dismissed with a wave of his hand. He liked Hagrid, the man was absolutely brilliant, if a bit barmy, with magical creatures – but he was not a fit person to be taking a young boy shopping for his first school supplies, he was so childlike himself in many ways.

“Oh,” Harry looked taken aback. “Still, sir, I have money to pay for all this…”

“I’m sure you do, your father being quite wealthy when he was alive. However, I am perfectly able to provide these for you. Remember: it is part of my responsibility to you as your guardian. Something your relatives never bothered with, despite being given money to do exactly that. Yes,” he clarified, drawing the word out, as the boy’s eyes got wide in surprise at that revelation. “Let’s leave your trust fund where it is for now – perhaps taking out a little bit for pocket money for the school year. But, I will monitor what you spend, understood?”

Harry bristled at the comment for a moment, but then, after a moment of thinking on it, realised his professor was right. He decided to give in gracefully for the moment, nodding his understanding, and listened as the professor went over his books, writing supplies, and potions kit with a practiced eye. The quill began happily writing again, almost purring with satisfaction as it busily made the notes Snape would need. He caught Snape giving him a calculating look after he looked at the latter item of Harry’s supplies.

“I think, Mr Potter, that we will spend some of our time this summer practicing potions. Your performance this year was barely adequate.” Harry sighed at the criticism – just par for the course from the potions Master; but his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline at the next sentence. “I know you know what the potions should do – your written work exemplified that, sparse in content though it was, and the handwriting was simply atrocious. But, I got the gist of what you were saying. However, your practical applications were woeful. So, we will definitely work on potions and penmanship for the next month; hopefully bringing your understanding of both subjects up to acceptable standards before the start of term.” Harry sighed again; he should have expected this bit of news as he was staying with the Potions King for the rest of the summer.

Then Harry grew pale as Snape reached the bottom of the trunk and pulled out his dad’s old cloak that Professor Dumbledore had given him at Christmas.

“Ah, yes…” the man purred, “…the infamous Potter invisibility cloak. What to do with this?” He looked over at his charge, noting the sheer fear in the boy’s eyes. He thought a moment before handing down his decision. “I am going to go ahead and leave this with you for now – however,” he held up his hand to forestall any backtalk, “if I discover you have been using it, it will be confiscated until further notice. Am I understood, Mr Potter?”

“Yes, sir.” Severus nodded at the answer and, after carefully folding the cloak, placed it back in the bottom of the trunk.

“All right, I believe I know what you need now.” He pocketed the list and vanished the dicta-quill as he gazed at the clock on the nightstand. “Eight-thirty; I believe that will be all for tonight, Potter. You may stay up reading if you wish, but I expect lights out at ten o’clock.” Snape Accio-ed a pair of pyjamas from his room and handed them to the boy. “Go change into these and brush your teeth, you will find a new toothbrush on the sink. When you come back out, I will shrink them to fit.”

Harry nodded and headed for his loo. When he came back out, he placed his jeans and t-shirt on his desk and walked to where his guardian was standing. A quick flick of the wand had the nightclothes shrinking to fit and Harry was in possession of a well fitting set of blue cotton pinstriped pyjamas.

Snape handed him a small bottle of potion. “This is Dreamless Sleep, Potter. I daresay you will need this for the next few nights. One swallow only, though. Understand?” The young boy nodded. “Now, if you wish to read before sleeping, there are novels on the shelves next to the Floo, otherwise, good night.”

“Thank you, sir. I think I will just go to bed now. I’m still feeling a bit tired.”

“Very well. Breakfast at seven-thirty.” Snape turned and left the room, leaving the door cracked open a bit. Harry headed to his bed and burrowed under the wonderful thick and warm covers. Setting his glasses on the table, he picked up the potion and took one swallow before succumbing to sleep.

****

The next morning after breakfast, Severus led Harry through the thick oak door into the dungeon hallways beyond, and then up to the doors of the castle and down the crunchy pea gravel of the carriageway to the main gates. There, Snape grabbed hold of Harry’s forearm and Apparated them to Diagon Alley. Harry staggered at the suddenness of the transportation and nearly lost his breakfast on Snape’s shoes, but managed to swallow it back before he disgraced himself.

“What was that?” he asked breathlessly, when he felt he could speak without sicking up.

“Apparition; the quickest way a wizard can travel,” Severus replied.

“I think I’ll stick to a broom,” he coughed as his stomach attempted to reassert itself.

Snape peered keenly at his ward’s face and had to admit it had a slight greenish tint to it. “You’ll get used to it,” he commiserated as he placed a hand on Harry’s back and steered him over to Madam Malkin’s shop.

Harry’s face slowly returned to the correct shade, and possibly over-corrected a bit too much, as the shop’s proprietress worked quickly to fill Snape’s order for Harry’s new clothes. The man had told her that his ward needed a ‘complete kit’, and this seemed to be some sort of code that she understood, for she brightened up with glee. Harry found himself following her around the shop letting her fill up his arms with piles of trousers, jeans, shirts, robes, underclothes, pyjamas, casual shirts, cloaks, coats and jackets with Hogwarts insignias, and so on. Everything – and more, as far as he was concerned – that a young wizard would need for a year of school at the United Kingdom’s finest wizarding academy.

Severus sat back on one of the little armless chairs scattered around the shop and watched stony-faced. Although if anyone had taken the time to actually look in his eyes, they would have seen bemusement.

Snape paid for the clothing after adjustments and growth charms were placed on them. He then shrunk the packages and placed them in his pocket and led Harry out to continue their shopping trip.

Harry found himself suddenly wary of all the people in the streets, and found himself gravitating toward his professor as, ironically, someone safe and protective. He tried to shake himself out of these paranoid feelings, he certainly hadn’t been this agoraphobic last summer, but now he was looking at everyone as if they were a potential threat. As a result, he caught the looks that people were giving him, and the professor, as they proceeded down the Alley in search of various items.

It seemed that some people went out of their way to avoid his teacher – even to the extent of crossing to the other side of the street as they approached. Some raked Snape with their accusatory eyes, murmuring under their breath or avoiding his gaze altogether; and some even spat on the ground before moving out of the way. Others, which included some students or former students, nodded politely to Snape and just gave Harry a cursory appraisal, raising eyebrows at the oddity of the Boy-Who-Lived out and about with the strict instructor.

The third bunch, realising who Harry was, fawned all over the boy. Snape ended up having to extract the trembling boy from numerous well-meaning clutches of maternal witches attempting to bury his face in their bosoms as they crooned over the ‘poor bairn’. Thus, Harry was ecstatic to run into Hermione in front of Flourish and Blotts a little while later - someone who would treat Harry as a normal person.

“Harry! I’m so glad to see you!” She grabbed him to give him a huge hug. He did his absolute best not to flinch from the contact, but it was hard. He just did not feel comfortable being touched that closely by anyone, right now. “Why didn’t you answer any of my owls?” She looked up at Snape as he came up to the two young lions. “Oh, hullo, Professor Snape.”

Severus had seen the way Potter’s shoulders had tensed when the girl had grabbed him and felt he should intervene on his ward’s behalf. “Miss Granger,” he acknowledged, giving a mere hint of a head nod in her direction. “Mr Potter never received your missives this summer; his relatives… I’m sure you understand.” He saw the boy give him a grateful look over his friend’s shoulder.

Hermione’s eyes opened wide at this revelation. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. I should have realised… Ron has been trying to get you to come over all summer!”

“I’ll write to him tonight, Hermione, I promise. I can’t leave where I’m at right now. The professor is taking me out just today to get my school stuff. But I’ll see you both when term starts, all right?”

“Of course, Harry. Are you staying someplace better now? You’re all right?” she asked with concern in her voice as she glanced quickly at their Potions professor who stood glowering over her friend.

Harry glanced up at his guardian, then looked back at his friend and nodded. “I am, Hermione. I’ll tell you everything on September first, all right? Your owls should get to me now.”

“I’m glad for you, Harry.” A voice could be heard calling Hermione’s name from a shop down the street. “That’s my mum, I’ve got to go. Will I see you on the train?” she asked hurriedly.

He looked up at Snape who gave a small shake of his head. Harry quietly sighed. “I don’t think so, I’ll see you at the feast though,” he reassured her as she jogged away to join her parents. She gave him a little wave of acknowledgement and he smiled as he watched her go.

Severus led Harry into the bookstore to purchase his second year texts, where they ran into a long line leading to the back of the store. A placard placed just inside the door announced that an author was to be signing books today. Snape sneered at the picture of the wizard who appeared to be all teeth, and wavy blond hair, grinning from the poster, and steered his ward away from the ravening hordes of housewives clamouring for a look at the infamous Gilderoy Lockhart.

“The man is a fraud, Potter. Unfortunately, Albus has gone ahead and hired him for the Defense position – half the books on your list this year are his volumes of drivel.”

“I’ve always said, Severus, that you should be teaching the Defense course,” a voice drawled in perfect patrician tones next to them. “But the rest of the school governors agree with Dumbledore, and you stay in your dank dungeon. And who do we have here? A poor little orphan being escorted?” the voice continued on in mock-concerned tones.

“It’s Potter, father,” came a sneering, younger version of the voice. Harry narrowed his eyes as he peered around the back of Snape, staring at his nemesis, who glared right back at Harry from behind his father.

“I know who it is, Draco!” Lucius Malfoy quickly snapped at his son. He turned his attention back to Snape and moderated his voice again. “I was just curious as to why you are escorting him, Severus; this seems a bit out of your purview?”

“Dumbledore’s wishes, Lucius. I had no say in the matter.” Knowing this was a patent lie; Harry watched the interplay between the two adults. He knew Malfoy’s reputation as an evil git who had supposedly supported Voldemort in the past, and was highly influential at the Ministry and on the School Board of Governors.

The younger Weasley boys had given him chapter and verse, according to their father, last term. He wondered at Snape’s manipulation of the truth around this man. He decided to keep quiet for the time being and let the situation unfold.

He spared another glance for Draco who also seemed to be watching the sparring match with a jaundiced eye. Now that was interesting, Draco almost looked like a normal boy. If Harry had met this version last summer, things might have been different. He decided at that moment to keep an eye on Draco during the rest of the year.

Lucius turned to look at Harry, raking him up and down with his gaze and then dismissed him with a turn back to Snape.

“Not much to look at is he, this boy-wonder. I feel even more certain than ever that his survival was a fluke. I don’t feel any special power in him. Just another dirty, little half-blood orphan.” Draco sniggered sycophantically at his father’s cutting remark, causing Harry’s anger to stir up dangerously near the surface. He clenched one hand into a fist but quickly released it when he felt his teacher’s hand squeeze his shoulder in warning. Draco was definitely worth keeping an eye on, good or bad.

“Lucius, I would love to stay and chat, but I want to get back to the castle sometime before the millennium. I will bid you good day?” Snape said smoothly as he deftly guided Harry in front of him.

Malfoy senior sighed in resignation that no one was going to play his verbal games today. “Fine, I’ll see you later this week. We’ll talk then.”

“As you wish.” The two groups parted company and Severus led Harry over to the section of Hogwarts texts and loaded up Harry’s arms with all of his second year required texts as well as supplemental readings. Harry groaned at the sight of all these books. It was going to be a long four weeks. Four weeks? Was that correct?

“Sir?”

“What, Potter?” Severus replied a bit distractedly as he perused more books trying to decide which would help his ward.

“What day is it?”

“What day? Monday,” he answered, placing some basic, but well written, defense volumes on the stack.

Harry was surprised, then disappointed. If it was Monday, then his birthday had passed without him even knowing it. He must have been out longer than he thought. “Happy Birthday to me,” he muttered, not realising his professor had heard him.

“Is there a problem with the date, Potter?” Snape asked him as they left the bookstore and headed towards the Apothecary’s. Harry’s reduced books now resided in Severus’ pockets beside his shrunken clothes.

“No, no problem. I was just out longer than I thought and I turned twelve without realising it. It’s all right, though – birthdays don’t mean that much. I had just forgotten.” He shrugged his indifference as he continued to gaze into the stores they passed.

Severus grunted in response and continued on over to the Apothecary’s where Harry was hard put not to start sneezing at all the different smells tickling his nose. Severus greeted the Herbalist behind the counter and gave the man several orders, which included new potions ingredients for Harry’s school kit as well as replenishing his own stock.

Harry looked around the store, but his eyes were caught by a splendid set of weights and measures that included a full set of various stirring rods. He thought, with a set like that, he would have no problems getting his potions correct; but he was sure his guardian wouldn’t let him have it - he had already bought him enough things today, as it was. The old training that Vernon had pounded into him over the years asserted itself and Harry knew deep down that he wasn’t worth a wonderful set like that, not unless he paid for it himself – and he had already had that discussion with Snape; he wasn’t about to trundle down that road again. He sighed in envy and started to turn away.

Severus had turned around to look for his charge while the clerk put his orders together, and saw Harry eyeing the potions set with longing. Then he saw the look of dejection on his ward’s face as he sighed and turned away. Severus got a thoughtful look on his face as he turned back to the clerk when the man reappeared.

A few minutes later they were on their way to the Leaky Cauldron for a bite of lunch before Apparating back to the main gates of the school. Harry handled the transport better this time around – his stomach didn’t rebel nearly as much – but he still felt he preferred brooms. They made their way quickly across the grounds and into the castle to Snape’s quarters where the professor gave Harry the password to get through the oak door’s guardian portrait.

Snape gave Harry a push between his shoulder blades, after handing him his packages and teaching him the unshrinking charm, towards his new room. Harry obeyed and, after enlarging the packages, slowly put his new things away.

He couldn’t quite believe how his snarky potions professor was acting towards him. He had been resigned to the fact that he was now under the man’s guardianship, and had expected little better from Snape than he had received from his Uncle Vernon, especially after the way Snape had treated him all year during school. However, ever since he had woken up yesterday, Snape had been uncharacteristically well… kind was a bit much, but maybe understanding? As if he understood, all too well, what Harry had lived with for the last eleven years. And the man had laid out the rules nice and clear. Living with the Dursleys, Harry was never quite sure what the rules were – as they constantly changed depending on Vernon’s whim. But Snape had told exactly what was expected of him, what the punishment would be if he disobeyed; and, in turn, what Harry should expect from Snape as far as what he would be receiving from the dour man. That was the real eye-opener: an adult being concerned that Harry had the basic necessities of life and more.

He carefully hung his new clothes, caressing fabrics he never dreamed of owning, and placed his folded things in the drawers in the cupboard. His new shoes he placed at the bottom in a neat row, then he turned to his desk. He piled his new books on one side with reams and rolls of new creamy parchment and several new quills and bottles of ink. Snape had been generous with his spending on Harry’s behalf and had refused any offer of payment. He had acted as if it was an insult to him for Harry to even think of paying his new guardian back for what the man had spent.

Harry did not understand that; he’d had it drilled into his head by the Dursleys that he was not worth any amount being spent on his behalf, but he decided it was best to leave it alone. Maybe he could come up with some other way to show his gratefulness? He would have to give it some thought. He changed into some new casual clothes before his transfigured ones from the infirmary lost their charms, and headed back to the main room with one of his new schoolbooks. One of the places they had stopped at was the oculist’s to have Harry’s glasses adjusted, something that had never been done before. His glasses had come from a bin of used frames – Petunia wasn’t going to spend the time, nor the money, on fixing his eyesight properly. Now that he could see without straining his eyes, he could enjoy reading.

Severus looked up from his desk as Harry entered the room, pleased to see him in clothes that fit, for once. He made a few more adjustments to the schedule he was drawing up for the boy then went to sit across from him in the other chair. Harry looked up at him expectantly, closing the book over his finger to hold his place.

“I have drawn up your schedule for the rest of the summer. Take a look, and I am open to reasonable adjustments to it.” He handed the piece of parchment over to the young man.

Harry looked it over. It really wasn’t that unreasonable, considering it had been Snape who had drawn it up. Except for one thing… there didn’t seem much time for flying.

“Erm, just one thing: flying time?” he asked apologetically, a bit afraid to even bring the subject up.

“Let’s consider that a reward for good behaviour. When you finish your assignments each day, to my satisfaction, then you will get at least one hour of pitch time. If you don’t – extra penmanship lines. Agreed?”

Harry brightened at this offer, concentrating on the positive rather than the negative. “Thank you, professor.”

“Let’s get some dinner – it is getting late.” He led Harry over to the table where he had Harry try the summoning charm.

Harry tapped the table once with his wand and the serving dishes arrived piping hot on the centre of the table. Severus served a bit of everything to both of their plates and watched as Harry began to eat. He noticed that Harry still held his silverware like a five-year-old. He sighed to himself as he realized that he was going to have more teaching to do than just academics. He cleared his throat and got his ward’s attention. “Potter, you are holding your cutlery incorrectly. Try to copy what I’m doing.” Harry looked at him as if he was from Mars.

“Why does it matter… sir?” he added hastily as Snape’s left eyebrow hit midlevel.

“It matters because you are expected to act correctly in polite wizarding society. As the purported ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, and the heir to the Potter fortune, you will be expected to act the part of a well-bred wizard at certain functions. This includes knowing how to use your eating utensils correctly. I’m assuming your – relatives - never taught you how to use them?”

Harry looked down at his plate, his hands now hidden beneath the table, balling up his serviette. “They never let me eat with them at all,” he murmured. He felt Snape’s finger raise his chin gently to look at him.

“I figured as much,” he said quietly before releasing his chin. “Therefore, I will teach you what they didn’t. Now this is how you hold your knife and fork.” He demonstrated for Harry. “It will feel uncomfortable at first, but you will get used to it fairly quickly. Now, you do it – go on, Potter, pick up your knife and fork – that’s right. You cut your meat in this manner… that’s right, stretch your index finger along the back of it, you can control your knife better that way… correct. Well done, now continue on.” He kept one eye on Harry as he attempted to use his silverware correctly per Snape’s instructions. Snape nodded in satisfaction at his successes, and gently corrected him as to where to place his utensils when not in use and so on, as well as the universal rule of no-elbows-on-the-table. When Harry had eaten his fill, the professor tapped the table twice and the dishes disappeared back to the kitchens.

Snape chivvied his charge back to his room to get ready for bed.

“Take a shower, and you may read in bed – if you so wish – until ten. Do you still have the vial of potion… ah, good. I suggest you drink it when you are ready to sleep, it will block any nightmares.” Severus turned to leave the room, after he saw Harry nod his understanding.

“Professor?”

Severus turned back with a sigh, “Yes, Potter?”

“Thank you, sir, for everything; for saving me and taking me in, and the trip to Diagon Alley. I know you didn’t have to do it…”

“You’re right, Potter, I didn’t.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he stood in the doorway.

Harry screwed up his face in a perplexed look. “Then why did you?” he asked quietly.

Severus pinched his nose before he waved Harry to sit on his bed and he walked over to the desk chair, turning it around and sitting in it to face the small, messy-haired boy sitting on the bed. He truly wanted to tell the boy it was none of his business, but felt that he needed to gain some rapport with the child – and telling him the reasons just might aid in that endeavour.

“It’s complicated, Potter,” he took a deep breath before continuing. “Will you believe it if I told you I owe it to your parents?” Harry shook his head ‘no’. “I didn’t think so…” Snape muttered under his breath.

“I was told you hated my parents.” Harry plucked up the courage to say.

“Not so,” Severus replied. Now it was Harry’s turn for his eyebrows to rise in disbelief. “No, it’s true,” he insisted. “Yes, there was a rivalry during our early years at the school – that was with your father and his gang of friends; but never your mother. I’m quite sure your aunt never told you, but I grew up in the same neighbourhood as your mother and aunt. I’ve known them since your mother and I were eight or nine.” He paused a moment as he considered his next statement. Yes, the boy deserved to know the truth in order to understand. “We were even married secretly for a time.”

“But… Hagrid said…” Harry got up quickly and went to his night table where he grabbed his photo album and handed it to his professor. “Why aren’t you in here? I know all these photos by heart and you aren’t in any of them.” Severus took the proffered book and flipped through the pages, seeing the pictures of his darling Lily smile up at him. The pictures grabbed at his heart and he hurriedly shut the book, holding it in his lap. If he looked any further, he would lose his composure – something he did not want, or need, at this moment.

“No one knew. Well, two people knew, but no one else; that is the nature of a secret.” He almost sneered – but caught himself in time. “I am only telling you this because you need to understand, it is not for general consumption.” He took a deep breath before continuing on. “We were married secretly, for a short time, until it became evident that I would be putting her at great risk if it should ever come out. The marriage was never registered, it was just between the two of us – but we counted it as a true marriage. We thought that with my spying for Dumbledore, it would be safer for her to marry James legally and live with him. Then she got pregnant with you, almost immediately, and you know the rest.”

He paused, looking at Harry to see his reaction. When the boy made no sound, just continued to stare at Severus, he continued on, gently setting the album aside on the desk next to him. “Lily told me that if anything should happen, she wanted me to care for you. But you have to understand; there was nothing I could do at the time. I was a known Death Eater and barely managed to keep myself out of Azkaban with Dumbledore’s help. There was no way the Ministry would let me have you. Merlin, they wouldn’t even let Lupin take you!” he muttered to himself.

“Lupin?” Harry asked.

“Another friend of your parents who wanted to care for you.”

“What was wrong with him?” Harry asked curiously.

Snape looked hard at his ward, should he tell him? No, not yet, this whole bit with Lily was more than enough for now. “He has a condition that makes him ineligible for adopting minors,” he said dismissively and Harry realised he wasn’t going to get a further answer from that line of questioning.

“What’s a Death Eater, and Azja…” Harry stumbled over the word.

“Azkaban: a wizarding prison in the middle of the North Atlantic Sea. A Death Eater is a follower of the Dark Lord.”

Harry looked fearful, and almost angry. “You were a follower of Him?” he accused, backing up a bit on the bed. Severus eyed him from beneath lowered brows.

“For a very short time – until I woke up and realised your mother was more important. I went to Dumbledore and he convinced me to be a spy for the light. So, I played double agent for nearly three years until you defeated him.”

“Then why didn’t you try later?” he cried, jumping off the bed and taking a few angry steps towards his guardian. “Why didn’t you check to see what my aunt was doing? If you knew her, you knew what she was like! Why didn’t you save me then?” Unnoticed, tears streamed down his face as he stood and accused his professor. “Didn’t you care?”

“Of course I cared!” Snape shot back. “But Albus assured me you were safe! And, Merlin help me, I believed him!” He shook his head, letting his hair fall forward shadowing his eyes as he wrapped his black robe-draped arms around himself. “Of course I knew your aunt, and what she felt towards wizards. Merlin knows she hated me when we were growing up – but he told me that she was taking good care of you, and she was your blood relation; she had more claim on you than your mother’s secret spouse,” he snapped. “Not even Dumbledore knows we were married, he just assumes I am interested in your welfare because of our previous friendship.”

That stopped Harry cold in his tracks. “He doesn’t?” He finally realised he had been crying and rubbed his face with the sleeve of his jumper, as he sniffed back the mucous in his nose. His face reddened, as he felt embarrassed about crying in front of Snape.

“No, Harry, he doesn’t.” Snape walked up to the boy and knelt in front of him. Harry’s eyes grew wide as he watched his professor lower himself to the boy’s level, and heard him say Harry’s given name – things the man never did! “This is something only very few knew – your mother, James and Lupin knew; and now you know.”

“He knew about my cupboard,” Harry whispered, green eyes wide with revelation.

“What do you mean?” Snape narrowed his eyes towards his ward. “How do you know that?” He swore silently to himself, if Dumbledore had known all along what those people had been doing… but Harry was already explaining.

“My first Hogwarts letter came addressed to my ‘Cupboard Under the Stairs’. That’s where I lived until the letters came. My aunt was convinced people were watching the house and I was moved up to Dudder’s second bedroom that evening. The rest of the letters were addressed to ‘The Smallest Bedroom’, but my uncle took every single one of them and destroyed them. And there were hundreds of them – even came through the fireplace!” His eyes brightened in remembrance at the silliness of it all. “I didn’t get to read my letter until Hagrid brought it to me. We were hiding out in this shack on this tiny island in the sea.” Harry paused and looked straight into his guardian’s eyes. “So, he knew where I lived and what they were doing,” he snapped out in clear accusation of the headmaster.

“You lived in that cupboard where I found you? The entire time you were there? Merlin!” he swore, his eyes becoming hard pieces of coal. “Harry, I don’t know how the first-year letters are addressed, but I assure you I will find out,” he promised.

He placed his hands on the young boy’s shoulders, impressing on him the sincerity of his next words. “I am sorry that I believed Albus and never went to check on you. I am sorry for last year – but you need to know that I was watching out for you then, even though you never knew it. Professor McGonagall and I both noticed how malnourished you were when you arrived and took our concerns to the headmaster, but he insisted you were fine. So, Minerva and I kept an eye out for you. Poppy and I spiked your pumpkin juice, and I saved you on your broom when Quirrell was hexing it. I couldn’t do anything overt – I do have a reputation to keep with the Death Eater children.”

“You’re still a spy?” asked Harry, having to whisper over the queer lump in his throat that had formed as he heard the man apologising; Severus Snape – most feared man in Hogwarts – apologising to one damned Harry Potter. It boggled the mind.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” Severus said as he nodded his head. “There is still some speculation that he is out there, biding his time, too weak to make any moves yet.”

“He…he…” Harry stumbled a bit on this confession; he wasn’t sure what the professor knew about the stone escapade. “He was in the back of Quirrell’s head when I rescued the stone. … He drank unicorn blood last year in the forest…” He raised worried eyes to his guardian’s face. “He is still alive,” he said quietly.

“It appears so, Potter,” Snape agreed, without any hint of sarcasm or snideness. That alone hammered the truth home for Harry.

Harry sighed in resignation and he stepped away from his guardian to sit back on the edge of the bed. Snape stood up and sat back in the chair, ignoring his creaking joints as he did so.

“So, does that… what does it mean?” Harry asked, a bit confused.

“Let’s just see how the next month goes and take it from there, shall we?” Snape suggested. Harry nodded his head but didn’t look back up at the man. “Good. Now go take your shower, and don’t forget to drink the potion. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus left Harry’s room, leaving the door cracked open and headed to the main lounge area. He pulled the latest copy of Potions Monthly from his desk, and setting a nice blaze going in his floo, settled back in his favourite chair for a nice read. He found, after staring at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes and not remembering a word it had said, that he was not going to be allowed that nice quiet read.

Why had he told Potter about his marriage to Lily? Those green eyes did it – they made him want to explain, because it had been necessary for the boy to believe his motivations, and to explain them, in a way, to Lily – at least that is what he told himself. He got up from his chair and walked to his bedroom.

On his bedside table was a picture he had taken out the previous morning when he knew Harry would be moving in with him; his wedding picture with Lily. Merlin, they had been so young! But they had been so in love, as well. He caressed a finger down the side of her face as she smiled up and waved at him, blowing him a kiss, then hugged the younger version of his smiling self in the photo.

“I make this vow to you, Lily: he will never go back to Petunia. I will care for him as if he were ours. It will be hard; he is so damaged by that Neanderthal your sister married, but I swear I will do it,” he whispered fiercely to the photo.

He had let himself grow old and bitter after the Potter’s murders. He had tried to save them, but the Dark Lord had lied to him – as he knew deep down he would – and he had let himself fall into the pit of depression and self-loathing for the last eleven years. He had to admit he had been stunned at the shape Potter had been in when he had arrived last September.

He hated having to show contempt to the boy – if only he had been sorted into Slytherin… the boy could easily have been his and Lily’s, but the timing wasn’t right. He had told her to move on, and she had – he couldn’t blame her in the slightest, as much as it hurt. And the boy was an exact replica of James, all except the eyes – those were hers.

He shook himself out of his reverie. Well, now he had a chance to right some wrongs. Harry understood a little better, and Severus himself was letting his young charge melt some ice from his heart. He let the corner of his mouth rise a bit in a small smile as he did his own nightly ablutions before checking one last time on Harry and going to bed himself.

He padded to Harry’s door, the hard leather soles of his slippers clicking on the cold stone floors. He tightened the belt of his dressing gown and opened the door. Harry was sound asleep, his transfiguration book lay open on his chest, glasses askew on his face and the bottle of dreamless sleep empty on his bedside table. Severus gently took the glasses off and placed them atop the now closed book on the night table. Tucking the blankets more securely around the small body, he brushed back the fringe to uncover the mark with the gentlest of touches. How he wished that this boy had been his, but James had won. All he could do now was make sure the man’s sacrifice was not in vain. He sighed and Nox-ed the light as he left the room.

Remus Lupin slipped through the Great Doors of Hogwarts on his way to report to Dumbledore concerning his latest mission for the headmaster. It felt good to get into the cool, nighttime corridors of the old castle after the stifling, August heat of Scotland. His greying hair was plastered against his head and he’d repeatedly set cooling charms on his robes, to very little avail.

He made his way to the seventh floor wing where the gargoyle took one look at him and slid aside, letting him ascend the circular staircase without requiring the password. Remus didn’t think he could remember it at this point, if he had even tried; he was too exhausted.

“Come in!” he heard after his knock on the office door. He pushed it open and took the seat in front of Albus’ desk.

“Remus! How did it go? Have a chocolate patty?”

“Thank you,” said the exhausted man as he stuck the ambrosia-like sweet in his mouth, savouring the Honeydukes chocolate, before accepting an ice cold drink that felt so good going down his parched throat. “It went very well, the wild packs are beginning to organise. There are, of course, a few holdouts – Greyback and his group will never listen to us – but that was to be expected,” he began.

Dumbledore stroked his beard with one hand, closing his eyes to mere slits while he took in the rest of the young man’s report. He asked several pointed questions, which Lupin did his level best to answer – but some things he was unable to muster the required information and Dumbledore set him the task of some research the next day in the restricted section of the library. After nearly a half-hour of discussing the finer points, he eventually led Lupin to a nearby guest chamber and bade him a good evening.

Remus gratefully slipped out of his damp, perspiration infused robes and fell arse up onto the bed, becoming comatose almost instantly, not even bothering to Nox the lights.

***

Harry awoke to the sounds of silverware clinking beyond his door. It took him a moment to remember where he was and then it all came back to him in a rush – Snape was his guardian now! He let out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes and relaxed back in his warm bed. A knock at the door startled him back awake, however.

“Potter? I know you’re awake!” Bloody Hell! The man knew everything! “You have fifteen minutes to get showered, dressed and seated for breakfast,” came the stern voice of the professor.

Harry flung aside the covers, grumbling, “I’m up, I’m up!” as he danced his way across the cool flagstones to his bathroom.

Fourteen and a half minutes later he slid into his seat, hair still damp from the shower – but clean - and dressed in some of the casual clothes Snape had purchased for him the day before.

Snape nodded at Harry’s punctuality and served the boy up some breakfast while Harry fixed his pumpkin juice. Harry eyed the large bottle of nutritive potion warily.

“Problems?” enquired Severus.

Harry shook his head. “I was just trying to figure out how long it will take to finish the bottle?”

Snape smirked at the boy’s sigh. “Quite awhile, Potter. You have a lot of ground to catch up on. Now eat up!”

Harry complied, paying especial attention as to how he held his utensils after a sharp, remindful look from Snape. When they were done, Harry tapped the table twice, pleased when the charm worked.

Severus Accio-ed a piece of parchment from his desk and placed it in front of his ward. “Your finalised study schedule; but first we have to go up to Albus’ office to sign the transfer of guardianship papers – he flooed me earlier this morning to say they were ready - so get a set of robes.”

Harry nodded quickly and headed back to his rooms. He placed the schedule on his desk and grabbed the first set of robes he came to in his wardrobe, shrugging into them as he hurried back to the main room.

Severus gave him a once over, reaching out to straighten the robes on the shoulders, but dropped his hands when Harry inadvertently flinched. He settled for giving the mop of hair a scathing look. “Is there nothing to be done with that?”

Harry grinned at Snape. “Nothing yet! Although, it seems to be straightening out lately!” he pointed out helpfully.

“Cheeky!” he snarled; however, the boy was right – the hair was straighter than when they had rescued him Friday evening. “Let’s go.” He led the way out of his quarters and up the myriad stairways to the headmaster’s office. Harry was suitably impressed with the gargoyle and laughed at the password, “Chocolate Frogs”, while his guardian simply rolled his eyes. He stood behind Snape as he knocked on the oak door at the top of the revolving staircase, and received permission to enter, but was nearly bowled over when his guardian attempted to turn around to leave.

“Severus, you will stay!” came the commanding voice of Dumbledore and the door shut itself behind them, with a distinctive squelch of a sealing charm.

Harry heard his teacher take a huge intake of air and looked up to see him roll his eyes again before the man twirled back around to face the room.

“Albus, is that… Harry?” came an unknown voice, and yet it sounded familiar, as if Harry should know it. He peeked around Snape’s robes and felt the professor place his arm firmly around his shoulders, suppressing his reflex to flinch again and propelling him forward. He heard the man whisper under his breath. “If I have to put up with this, so do you.” Harry spared a quick glance over his shoulder, but Snape had set his face in granite, and was unreadable.

Harry turned back to face the man coming towards him from out of the shadows of the room. “Hullo, Harry. I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I knew your parents; I’m Remus Lupin.” His guardian’s fingers dug into his shoulders and Harry wiggled free from them as he gazed at the wizard. The man had on shabby grey robes over an equally worn-out set of clothes. Patches could be seen on the elbows, and his shoes had obviously seen better days. Several scars seemed to criss-cross across the lower portion of his face leading from the mouth back towards the ears, but his smoky blue eyes seemed kind as they gazed upon him. Greying hair that seemed haphazardly groomed topped the slightly bent frame.

“I’ve heard of you, sir,” he said politely. However, as Lupin moved closer holding his hand out for a shake, Harry scooted back until he ran into Snape and felt safer when the man placed an arm around him, pulling him in closer.

Lupin stopped his approach, dropped his hand, and took a step back at this protective stance. He studied the pair a moment, looking quickly at Severus and then back at Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll just take my leave then, shall I? I have some research to do in the library, and I prefer to be in there when Madam Pince isn’t around to scowl disapprovingly at me,” he said with a conspiratorial wink to Harry. Harry grinned back despite himself. “Albus,” he nodded farewell to the headmaster. “Severus, is it possible we may talk this evening?”

“Is it necessary?” the dour man ground out between clenched teeth.

“It is. I’m curious though, why is Harry here? Shouldn’t he be at Petunia’s?” He looked pointedly between the two men. Severus just kept a grip on his ward, who was finding great interest in the oriental carpet patterns, and didn’t give an answer – but shot a look over to Albus instead. Dumbledore finally cleared his throat after the atmosphere became too tense.

“Ah, perhaps that is something Severus will discuss with you tonight, Remus, I will just say that I may have made a grave error in placing Harry with Petunia.”

Remus, startled, looked back to Snape, feeling as if he was watching a tennis match. Snape snorted at the Headmaster’s response but shrugged in acquiescence and moved himself and Harry to the side as Lupin walked over to the now-opened door.

“Nine-o’clock, then, Severus?” Another nod. He quickly took his leave of the room.

***

“Headmaster, why is he here?” Severus enquired, loosening his grip on Harry, who rubbed his shoulder to ease the knot left by his teacher’s fingers. He stood there looking at the room around him while the adults held their conversation.

“Making a report. You two are here to sign the papers? Good, I have them right here.” He rummaged around his desk as Harry ventured away from Snape’s side to look around the fascinating room. He was enticed by all the glittering and whirling devices scattered around the circular office, as well as the headmaster portraits who were looking down at him and muttering to each other, and then he let his eyes pause on the sorting hat, high up on a shelf; but he felt especially drawn to the magnificent red and gold bird that was perched near an open window. He gently reached out to run his hand over the bird’s head. The bird closed its eyes in pleasure and gave a little trill of contentment.

“He’s warm!” he said, astonished at the sensation. He missed the glare that his guardian threw in his direction.

“Fawkes is a Phoenix, Harry,” Dumbledore said without looking up as he rummaged further on his desk. “A very special magical bird. Capable of great loyalty, carrying heavy burdens, with tears that heal any wound; they regenerate themselves and are born from their own ashes. He should be having a burning day sometime this year, perhaps you’ll get to see it… ah, here we are!” Albus pulled a sheaf of parchment from a stack and handed it to Snape.

“Potter, come here,” commanded the potions master. Harry obeyed after giving one last pat to Fawkes and being rewarded with another trill from the familiar, and came over to sit in the chair next to the dark man.

Snape quickly read through the papers that transferred full guardianship from the Dursleys to himself. Signing the sheets, he handed them to Harry to read – pointing out where the boy needed to sign.

Signing the last page, Harry looked up at his professor. “Does this mean I’m yours, now?”

Severus looked deeply into the green eyes turned up at him so trustingly, and nodded. A small smile lit Harry’s face.

“Brilliant!”

Snape lifted one eyebrow at the boy’s language and handed the papers back to Dumbledore as he stood up and motioned with his hand that Harry should do the same.

“Thank you, my boys,” said the headmaster, his eyes twinkling madly underneath his bushy eyebrows.

“If that is all, Albus, Potter has to get started on his summer homework.”

“No, no, nothing else, Severus. Don’t forget the staff meeting next Tuesday at two, though.”

Severus gave his patented nod of the head as he chivvied his charge out the door and down the stairs to the dungeons.

***

“All right, Potter, get your books and assignments; you may work here at the table where I can keep an eye on you.”

Harry walked down the corridor to his room where he hung his robes up and grabbed his materials from his desk. In the dining area he piled his books to one side, his paper, quills and ink to the other and took a look at the schedule Snape had drawn up for him.

The man was clearly as obsessed as Hermione, but without the colour coding she was so fond of. Harry sighed and grabbed his History of Magic text and began to take notes. This was obviously a downside to being the ward of a professor at your own school.

Three hours, and one essay later, Harry was startled to see his books and paper move over to the far side of the table.

“Lunch, Potter,” said the mildly amused voice of Snape. “Go wash your hands.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry hurried down the hallway and was back a few minutes later, presumably with cleaner hands, since he was rubbing them dry on his slacks. Severus frowned at the bad manners.

“Potter, next time use a hand towel, that is what they are for!”

Harry had the grace to look abashed as he realised what he was being chided for. “But I thought those were for decoration! That’s what my aunt…” he fell silent as he quickly came to the conclusion that this was just one more thing his relatives had neglected in his upbringing.

Severus nodded. “They are not for decoration, they are there to be used. It just appears slovenly to have wet stains on your trousers or shirts from wiping your hands dry on them. Try not to let it happen again. You have a station amongst Wizards to maintain – sloppy manners will not be tolerated. Now, did you get your essay done?”

“Just about; need to proofread it, but I think I got what Binns wanted.”

“Professor Binns, Potter,” Severus automatically corrected.

“Sorry, sir,” muttered Harry, just as automatically, as he buttered a roll.

“This afternoon we will move to the classroom to begin your potions tutorial.”

“What will we be brewing?” asked Harry as he bit into the soft buttery bread.

“You are going to start with the first potion of the previous term and work your way forward – making sure to do each potion to my satisfaction before moving to the next. Understood?”

Harry sighed at the thought of close to thirty potions in less than thirty days. “Yes, sir.”

After lunch, Harry retrieved his newly restocked potions kit and followed the professor along Salazar’s corridor and through his office to the classroom.

Harry was stunned when he discovered the weights, measures and stirring rod set he had eyed at the Apothecary’s. He warily approached the lab bench they were set upon. Cautiously, he looked up at his teacher as Snape came over to stand in front of him.

“For me?” he whispered, hardly daring to believe his good fortune. Surely the professor only meant for him to use them during the summer, they couldn’t be for him… but his professor was now nodding his head.

“Yes, Harry. Happy belated Birthday.” The saturnine man was startled when the boy threw his arms around his teacher. He tentatively patted the boy a couple of times before stating, “Enough, Potter!”

Harry quickly pulled back after saying his thanks. “It’s my first Birthday present!” he declared. “Well, not really – Hedwig was, last year; but it’s my first for this year!”

“Just be sure you treat them properly,” Snape said gruffly, barely managing to handle the swirl of emotion he had felt during the hug. “Now, turn to page twenty in your book and lay out your tools and ingredients as stated.” Harry worked diligently for the next hour and a half with his teacher actually willing to answer questions as he proceeded. At the end, Snape declared the potion passable, which was high praise coming from him, and let Harry free to have an hour of flying time on the pitch.

Harry fairly flew back to their quarters, grabbed his broom, and ran out of the castle to the Quidditch pitch. Severus followed behind and took up his watchful post at the bottom of the stands watching the boy-wonder dip, dive and complete derring-do turns in the beautiful blue sky, as if born riding a broom. He nearly gave Severus several heart attacks with his stunts.

***

Another man in the castle looked out from the library window where he was seated, studying some books for the headmaster. He paused in his reading to watch the young Gryffindor fly as if he had wings, instead of a broomstick. His heart flew right alongside the boy as he dipped and raced all around the pitch. The boy flew as well as his father.

He shook his head to himself and returned to his research, soaking in the late afternoon warmth of the Scottish sunlight pouring through the open leaded window. Tonight would be soon enough to speak of such things.

***

Harry went to sleep almost as soon as dinner was over with, having exhausted himself with the flying; and Snape answered the door when a knock came precisely at nine. He motioned for the man to enter and closed the door quietly behind him, not wishing to disturb the sleeping student.

Lupin came in and sat in the divan in front of the fire, taking the proffered glass of elf wine when offered by Snape.

“So, Lupin, what did you need to see me about?” Severus took his favourite seat by the fireplace, sipping on the wine and enjoying its varied flavours as it flowed over his tongue.

“Severus, I’m just going to come out and tell you this. You do know what day Harry was born?”

“July thirty-first – everyone knows that!” he huffed into his wineglass. “It’s practically a wizarding holiday!”

“True.” The werewolf took a sip. “But, what everyone does not know – as Lily only told James and me – is that Harry was a month late.”

“A month late? But that would mean…” He collapsed in his chair and shook his head in denial. “No…” he groaned. “She was sleeping with Potter before…” He couldn’t finish the thought; he was becoming so incensed! In his anger he began clutching the wine glass causing the glass to begin cracking under the pressure.

“No, Severus, no – that’s not what I meant!” Remus leaned towards the other man, reaching a hand out, desperately trying to stop Severus from the dangerous line of thought.

“Then say what you mean, wolf-boy!” Severus shot back, black eyes glowering from under his hooded eyelids, knuckles white as they clenched the wineglass that now showed numerous spider-web-like cracks.

“Severus, Harry is your son!”

Snape shook his head. “That’s impossible. He looks just like Potter, Lupin.” He finally noticed the glass in his hand and, after muttering a Reparo, set the glass gently down on the table at his side; it was one of his favourites.

“And Lily was gifted in charms and potions,” Remus quickly pointed out. He shook his head, as if to himself, as he thought about the extraordinary bit of magic his friend had performed – especially as it had lasted this long. “She charmed Harry specifically to look like James to keep him safer. It was her creation: a cross between wand-work and potions. At least that is what she thought would happen; she just didn’t want any of your acquaintances to know that Harry was yours – to keep him from being pledged to Voldemort’s service. This was before the news about the prophecy came out – and by then it was too late, they had to go into hiding and you were deep within Voldemort’s ranks, spying.” He sat back a bit, as Severus showed no further signs of attacking Remus. “She truly regretted never being able to tell you, Severus. She told me that, the week before they were killed.”

Severus collapsed back in his chair, holding his face in his hands.

“Oh, Gods, Lily…” he moaned.

“She never betrayed your marriage, Severus,” Remus pointed out softly. “I wish I could have told you sooner, but she had me under an oath until Saturday when Harry turned twelve.”

Snape just mutely nodded. His wife had been tremendously accomplished in the fields of potions and charms. She had used a combination of both to achieve Harry’s appearance and to make it last so long. Now that he thought about it, Potter’s looks were beginning to change as well as his bend toward academics. Today had been an eye-opener for Severus; the boy had never seemed this talented or studious during the previous term…

A scream from the corridor behind them propelled him straight out of his chair and down the hallway to Harry’s room, cursing a blue streak under his breath, with Remus right behind him.

Remus stood in astonishment as he witnessed Harry writhing in the bedcovers, sweat pouring from his pores and soaking his nightclothes, screaming his head off between whimpers and cries of  “No, no, Uncle Vernon. No, no, please! I’ll be good… please don’t…”

“Merlin, Snape, what is happening!” Lupin growled.

“Nightmares. He’s remembering his abuse – now shut up, Lupin!” demanded Severus as he moved to the boy’s bed.

Severus sat down on the edge of the bed and, reaching hesitantly at first, gathered the boy gently to him; restraining Harry as he fought Snape in his nightmare induced delirium, kicking out and trying to cover his face with his arms; but Snape, with upper body strength born from carrying cauldrons for the last twenty-odd years, had them under control. Severus talked quietly to him as one strong arm held Harry against his chest and the other gently stroked the sweat soaked head in a calming manner that slowly, ever so slowly, got through to the teen. Harry visibly relaxed and began to take great shuddering breaths as he slowly woke up and tried to bring himself under control.

“Harry, didn’t I tell you to take the potion?” Severus chided gently, when he noticed the boy was finally becoming aware of his surroundings.

“I – I fell asleep before I remembered,” the boy responded sheepishly.

“Hmm, well better late than never; open up!” He Accio-ed the forgotten potion bottle from the nightstand on the other side of the bed and handed it to Harry who downed the dose immediately. Snape stroked the black hair one more time and made as if to get up, but a noise from Harry stopped him.

“What was that?” Snape enquired quietly.

“Please, don’t leave yet,” came the small voice.

Severus settled himself back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and gathered the child to him again. “All right, Harry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry sighed as he settled against his guardian’s chest, burrowing under the black robes and letting them engulf him; content in the strength the man exuded and the sharp potion smells that wafted from his robes and smelled oddly comforting to him. The combination pushed the wispy tendrils of the nightmare far away, as the potion began to relax and calm his mind. The long fingers that stroked his hair just felt right to him.

Lupin discretely left the room and went back to the lounge where he waited for Severus to appear. He didn’t have long to wait. Severus was back within fifteen minutes and took his seat, refilling his glass and taking a long drink before facing his guest.

“Lupin, you are certain of your facts?”

Remus nodded his head. “Yes, Severus.”

Snape closed his eyes and leaned back. “Oh, Merlin help us,” he mumbled.

“Severus, why is Harry staying with you? What was that crack about abuse? Who’s abused him?”

Severus snorted in dark humour without opening his eyes. “Petunia neglected her duties. Pot – huh! My son – was being abused, starved and beaten by that family. The wards went down a few days ago and Albus sent me to check as to the reason why.”

“Was this a recent development?” His protective wolfish self was rearing it’s head as it caught the scent of danger to a cub.

Remus jumped a bit when the black eyes flew open and nailed him with their glare. “No, Wolf, they’ve been doing it all along – for eleven solid years! It just came to a head the other night, and Petunia did nothing to stop it.” He closed his eyes again in weariness, seeming to deflate in his chair, as his head fell back against the cushion, dark hair splayed outward, as if an India ink bottle had been tipped over onto the fabric.

“So, you are watching him?” Lupin enquired.

“I’m his official guardian now.” He gave a mirthless chuckle at the irony of the situation. “I’m the only one capable of it,” he snarled, eyes still closed.

“Are you going to tell him? He deserves to know,” asked Remus after a long moment.

Severus finally dropped his chin and looked over at the other man. “I’m going to have to, won’t I – those charms won’t last forever.”

“Actually,” Remus leaned in, “the changes should start appearing quite soon. Noticed anything different since the weekend?”

Severus nodded distractedly. “More of an interest in his studies and today he brewed a potion to near perfection – something he was unable to do last term. And his hair… his hair seems less… messy!” He grimaced to himself.

Lupin relaxed back in his chair. “Then it has begun; Lily figured it wouldn’t last past his twelfth birthday – if it wasn’t removed before then. He’ll start physically changing even more over the next month.” He grinned as Severus served him a dark look. “Oh, trust me, Severus – he does look like you; I saw him before Lily cast the charms. There is no doubt he is a Snape.”

He chuckled as Snape touched his hooked nose in reflection. “No, not your nose – that he got from Lily as well as his eyes.” Severus sighed gratefully, and Lupin chuckled again as he got up to pour himself a dram more of the wine. He tipped the bottle toward Severus’ direction in a silent enquiry, but Snape waved it off, so he poured his own portion and recapped the crystal decanter. As he did so, he gazed over at the Potions Master. “No, Harry gained your fingers, your hair colouring and the length in your face. It will be interesting to see how that has all manifested.” He sat back down in the chair to nurse his drink.

“I’ll have to tell Albus at some point, I suppose,” Snape said after a few moments. “And McGonagall and Pomfrey,” he added wearily.

Quirking his head, Remus stared at Severus. “With the changes, everyone will see he is yours by September first.”

“That soon?” The dark haired man paled even further than his normal shade of dungeon white.

The silence stretched out between the two men as they each contemplated the news they had each learned that evening; the only sound in the room were the logs spitting and hissing in the fireplace as the flames danced merrily, unaware of the paradigm shift occurring this night.

Remus finally broke the silence. “What are you going to do about the Dursleys?”

“Turn them over to the Muggle authorities,” his companion said wearily. “Pomfrey is drawing up a report of her findings and will turn that information over to the child welfare department. We are including some journals from Arabella who was watching Harry for Dumbledore. She had reported a lot of neglect and abuse to Dumbledore and he had waved it off. I, on the other hand, plan to take matters into my hands.”

 “What do you have in mind for the Muggles?” Remus was frankly curious; over the years he had become well acquainted with the fact that an angry Snape was a dangerous Snape, and Severus was obviously seething underneath his cool, Slytherin exterior over what the Muggles had done to his son.

“Oh, a word here and there in the right ears…” Severus intimated in his silkiest of tones that caused Remus to shiver at just the thought of what Snape could do in retaliation. “We have another, more immediate, complication, however,” Snape pointed out. “Lucius is up to something.”

“How do you know? I mean, other than the fact that Malfoy lives for schemes,” he snorted.

“That’s how this all came to a head,” Severus began to explain. “Lucius’ house-elf, Dobby, showed up at Privet Drive to warn Harry that he would be in danger if he returned to Hogwarts. Harry refused, of course, and Dobby retaliated. Of course Dursley thought Harry had sabotaged his dinner party and took his rage out on the boy.”

“That’s when the wards fell?” the werewolf guessed.

“Mmm, hmmm…” Snape agreed thoughtfully.

“Do you know what he is planning?”

“No idea, but I have a meeting with him later on this week; I hope to ferret something out then,” he conceded.

“What about Albus, then; why did he wave off Arabella’s reports?”

“I have my suspicions, Lupin, and I don’t like them at all. I haven’t confronted him yet – I’m still gathering information – but when I do, he will have a lot to answer for,” was the curt reply. “I’m still angry at him for not checking on the boy earlier, not taking Figg’s reports to heart, nor taking our concerns seriously last term. I’ll deal with him later.”

Lupin shrugged. “It’s your decision; but you know he’ll figure it out before too long.”

Severus gave a slight nod in agreement. Oh, he knew – Dumbledore was too clever by half. He needed to discover Albus’ motives for ignoring all the signs. Remus finally stood, quaffing the last of his wine in one swift move and setting the glass on the mantel. “I better get going, I need to leave before sunrise for my next mission. You know how to get in touch with me if you need any help with Harry?”

Severus gazed at the man from where he sat for a long moment, and then nodded his thanks. He stayed there, as Lupin left the apartment, staring into the fire. It wasn’t until the flames had been reduced to mere embers, glowing on the hearth, that he finally got up, vanished the drinking paraphernalia and headed for his bedroom – after checking one last time on his… son.

When he entered his own bedroom, he sat down on the bed and picked up his picture of Lily in her wedding outfit.

“So, you had one last surprise for me, my darling. And what a surprise! Will you forgive me for last year? Will he? What am I supposed to do, Lils – how am I supposed to be a father?” He clutched the photo to his chest for a moment before setting it gently back down on the nightstand. “Help me, Lily; help me figure out what to do!”

Harry hurried up the steps to the Owlery, his new trainers slapping on the stone steps, the sound reverberating along the narrow staircase shaft that wound its way up the tower. He was finally going to see Hedwig! He hadn’t had a chance until now to really take some time to come and visit her. He had used her on Wednesday to send letters to Ron and Hermione. He explained what little he could to them about what was going on, but they had felt a bit flimsy, since he could not say in detail what had happened - other than the part about Dobby.

But that visit to his owl had been a very quick one, and he hadn’t had a chance to come up to the Owlery again until today. His guardian had kept him quite busy, writing his essays, brewing last year’s potions all over again – except this time correctly – and being taught wizarding etiquette, or at least basic etiquette. Harry snorted to himself; he’d had no idea how little of the social graces he actually knew, nor how important they were. He almost felt like the ‘little Heathen’ that Aunt Marge always called him. But he was learning now.

Snape had acquired Harry a book, during their trip to Diagon Alley, on etiquette for young wizards and Harry was expected to have the book read by Sunday, which was tomorrow. Harry had surprised himself when he had finished the book by Thursday night. He never used to be able to read that quickly – Merlin, he was turning into a male Hermione! As this had left him extra time in his schedule, he was here to finally have a good long visit with his owl.

He ran up the last few steps and slipped under the low hanging doorway into the dimly lit chamber. Mouse bones crunching underfoot and rustlings from the owls in their niches, punctuated by several sleepy hoots, sounded gently around him. He gazed around the room trying to spot her, but couldn’t find her.

Well, maybe she’s out hunting, he thought to himself. I’ll just go fly on the pitch and come back later.

As he turned a bit dejectedly toward the entrance again, a joyous hoot from outside caught his attention. He walked out to the balcony and spotted Hedwig coasting towards him. Beaming at the sight of his familiar, he put his arm out for her to land on and reached into his trousers pocket for the handful of treats he had brought her. He scattered these on the ledge and lowered his forearm for her to step down, after he had retrieved the packet of letters from her leg.

“Hey, girl,” he said as he stroked the soft feathers along her head and back. She hooted happily at him and went back to nibbling her treats. Harry perched himself in a neighbouring balcony arch so that he could read his post and enjoy the warmth of the summer sun as well.

Dear Harry,

It was good to see you in Diagon Alley on Monday. I wish you could’ve met my parents, I’ve told them so much about you and Ron, but I know neither of us had the time – maybe next year.

I’ve sent a letter to Ron to let him know you never got your letters from us, and that you wouldn’t be able to visit the Burrow this summer.

I’ve already read most of the new books for this year – there are ever so many for Defense – and I’ve already finished all my essays. I don’t think Ron has even started his yet! I hope you have begun yours!

I have to cut this short; Hedwig is giving me glares. Be well, Harry, I hope that where you are staying is much better than your aunt’s. I’m going to do some research for you on that house-elf. I wonder if there are any at Hogwarts?

See you on the first, save us a spot at the table!

Hermione

Harry smiled at Hermione’s note; leave it to Hermione to have all her homework done already, and to soothe Ron about Harry not answering his letters. He folded the letter back up and stuck it in his pocket, then broke the seal on his next letter.

Harry,

I got your note, and Hermione’s, today. Glad to see you’re alright, mate. Dad was about ready to come and get you himself! Good thing Dumbledore contacted him and told him you were safe, but he wouldn’t say where. Even Fred and George were ready to nick Dad’s flying car to rescue you! I kinda wish they had, as it sounds like it would’ve been a great bit of fun!

Did Hermione get on you about your homework? Merlin, we still have four weeks left – plenty of time!

I wish you could come out this summer, but Dumbledore said no – you needed to stay where you were. Maybe next summer, hey? Sorry to hear the relatives were such gits, and how did you end up with Snape taking you to purchase your school supplies? Bet you and he were both thrilled about that!

Hermione says you won’t be able to ride the train this year, so I guess I’ll see you when we arrive. Enjoy the rest of your summer!

Ron

Harry chuckled over Ron’s note, agreeing that it would’ve been fun to see his dad’s flying car. He would’ve liked to see where the Weasleys lived; from Ron’s descriptions during the previous term, it sounded like a place where Harry would fit right in – black hair and all.

He carefully folded this up and placed it in his pocket next to Hermione’s and sat back against the pillar, dozing in the sunlight, soaking the heat into his bones that were chilled after spending so much time in the dungeons. He ruminated on how different the professor was this summer, compared to last term. The man was strict, but he was also fair – something he definitely was not during the school year. So what had changed?

***

He was startled awake by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Professor Snape standing there with a half-smile – well, that was what Harry had determined those little upturns at the side of the man’s mouth were – on his face as he gazed down at his ward.

“Nice nap?” he asked, a tad sarcastically.

“Mmm, hmmm…” Harry nodded, as he stretched his back and legs. He took the professor's proffered hand and levered himself off the railing. “Wow, I didn’t realise I had dozed off professor, I’m sorry! What time is it?”

“Nearly six. I was getting worried.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I won’t let that happen again. I was just so comfortable, and the sun was so warm…” he trailed off, looking down at his shoes as he scuffed the tip of one through the dust on the floor. “Are you going to punish me?”

“For what? Taking a nap? On a Saturday? I think not, Potter.” Harry raised his head in shock at this. He had been sure he was headed for some cauldron scrubbing. “I knew where you had intended on coming, which is why I checked here first. Besides,” he added in a conspiratorial tone, “your broom is still in your room.”

“Oh,” replied a chagrined Harry.

“Come along, it is time for dinner and we are dining in the Great Hall this evening; the Headmaster is insisting upon it. So, we need to get you presentable.” Severus headed for the stairs with Harry reluctantly following behind.

***

Snape insisted that Harry wear a good set of clothes and robes for dinner with the staff, so Harry hurriedly washed and changed, tucking in his shirt tail as he hurried down the hall to Snape’s sitting room, and carrying a set of school robes.

“We don’t have all day, Potter!” Snape bellowed just before Harry turned the corner. “Well, it’s about time! Let’s go.” Harry rolled his eyes at his teacher’s tone as the man opened the door wandlessly, and billowed through it. Harry was right behind him, straightening out his own set of robes as he partially jogged in order to keep up with his guardian’s long strides. As he jogged he pushed his hair behind his ear; it was getting a bit long, and was starting to tickle his cheek.

He was amazed lately, that his hair was actually behaving somewhat; at least it wasn’t as messy. Maybe it was Snape’s shampoo. He’d asked the man about it the other day, but had just gotten a grunt in answer. He really thought it must be the product he was using; and if so, he wanted to get some for the rest of the year! He’d been trying for years to get his mop to behave, and this was the first time he’d found something that worked! As he was musing on this, they entered the Great Hall and headed up to the single round table that sat near the dais where the staff tables usually were during term.

Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and a professor Harry had never met, much less seen, were already seated and the last two seats were open for Harry and Professor Snape.

The new Professor had the appearance of a very flighty type of person; dressed in numerous clashing paisley shawls that seemed to float around her on their own accord. Her hair was messier than Hermione’s and she wore large thick glasses that gave her an owl-like appearance. She seemed a bit timid, sitting there amongst the other teachers.

“I’m sorry we were late, Headmaster, Potter was napping. Sybil,” he said curtly as he took his seat beside the strange teacher. She nodded at him, but only had eyes for Harry.

“No trouble, Severus, we all just got here ourselves; have a seat, my boy. Harry, have you met our Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney? She has decided to grace us with her presence this evening,” Dumbledore said whilst passing a jug of pumpkin juice to Harry. “She rarely comes down from her tower,” he explained as Harry mumbled a “hullo” to the teacher and took his seat between the Headmaster and Snape. “Now Harry, it’s been nearly a week since you arrived, how are you getting on?”

“Erm, fine sir?”

“I see great trials and tribulations ahead of you…” Trelawney said all of a sudden, causing Harry to jump in his seat with shock at the prediction, nearly spilling the juice on the table as he poured some into his cup. “The cards foresee death for you. Yes, it stalks you like a cat stalks its prey; ever following, ever watchful…” Her eyes, wide and frightening, were magnified into huge orbs by her glasses as she stared off past his shoulder. This entire statement had the effect of causing Poppy and McGonagall to hide their smirks, unsuccessfully, in their cups; Snape stiffened – if possible – even straighter in his seat and Harry shivered; the woman gave him the creeps!

“No problems, I take it?” Dumbledore enquired calmly, as if nothing had been said, his eyes twinkling. Harry decided to take his cue from the headmaster and ignored the strange woman.

“No, sir, I’m fine.” He wasn’t quite sure what Professor Dumbledore was looking for, but he supposed by the look in the old man’s eyes, and the way Snape relaxed in his seat, that his answer was satisfactory. But apparently the questions had irked his guardian, even though his stance did not show it, for he picked up the conversation from his ward.

“What are you wanting to know, Albus? Checking to see if I’ve turned him into potions ingredients? I assure you, it hasn’t gotten that far – yet.” Severus speared some meat off of a plate as it was passed to him by Trelawney and shoved two large slices onto Harry’s plate as well. Harry spared a glance at Snape to see how serious he was, and was surprised to actually see warmth in the man’s eyes, although his face was as stern as ever.

Harry had already discretely poured a vial of his nutritional potion, that Snape had palmed to him on the way up from the dungeons, into his cup and he nearly spewed a mouthful of juice as he saw his guardian continuing to load up his plate. He would never be able to finish all of that! He glared up at Snape as the man began to fork several long roasted asparagus spears onto Harry’s plate.

“Why nothing, dear boy,” the headmaster continued blithely. “Just making sure that Harry here is settling in, that’s all.” He appeared not to notice the glares being parried between the two dark haired men over the amount of food on Harry's plate.

“I assure you, sir, that we are both doing tolerably well in that regard. He is well aware of the rules and, so far, has been diligent in keeping them in mind.” He shot a glance over at Harry, and Harry swallowed hastily, nodding his head in agreement. In fact he was surprised himself, if he thought about it, as to how well the week had gone. There had been no major arguments, no punishments – except once when he had used an epithet and Snape had washed his mouth out with soap.

That had tasted bad, and just the thought of the punishment brought the remembered taste of the soap sliver back to his tongue; so Snape was right when he said that Harry would think twice before saying those type of words in the future.

“Good, good. I’m glad all is in order. Minerva, have you tried these rolls? They’re heavenly!” he said, passing a basket to the woman next to him.

Severus looked down at his ward, who was making eyes at him, and pointing his chin at all the food Severus had piled onto the boy’s plate.

“Just eat what you can,” he whispered. Harry seemed to ease up a bit at that and began to concentrate more on his table etiquette, unfolding his serviette and placing it neatly in his lap. Severus sighed and started in on his roast, while half listening to Trelawney’s dire predictions from her seat on the other side of him. Merlin, he thought, it’s going to be a long dinner.

***

“Severus, can we have a word with you?” Minerva said to him, Pomfrey right behind her as Sybil floated past and started up the stairs toward her tower, mumbling about needing to check the cards. Severus sighed and nodded, but turned to the boy before joining the ladies.

“Potter, you have one hour pitch time – starting now.” Harry whooped and ran for the dungeon stairs to grab his cloak and broom. “And be back in the dungeons before dark!” he called after the boy. A faint “Yes, sir” floated back to him.

“Ladies, why don’t we retire to my rooms?” He swept a hand forward to indicate that they follow Harry to the dungeons.

“Actually, Severus, I would prefer we use my office.” Pomfrey stated.

Snape raised an elegant eyebrow at this, but nodded, “As you wish.”

The three headed for the hospital wing and were soon settled in some comfortable chairs in Pomfrey’s office. A window looked out towards the Quidditch Pitch and Snape could see Harry doing dips and dives in the early evening twilight. He shuddered at the sheer recklessness of the manoeuvres, but he turned his attention back to Poppy when she cleared her throat.

“Severus, it has come to our notice that Harry’s outward appearance is changing quite a lot. And too, I noticed, when I had to give him some blood last week while you were making more potions for him, that his blood type is very rare…”

“AB negative,” Severus murmured, trying to keep his face as stony as possible, not giving any sign that he knew where this conversation was leading.

“Correct, and neither James, nor Lily, had that combination. James was O positive and Lily was A negative. In fact I have had only one other student come through these doors who is AB negative…”

“Me,” he said resignedly. The Medi-witch nodded her head as she sat back in her chair.

“Care to tell us what is going on?” Minerva asked. “If we see something different, Albus will too, very soon,” she gently pointed out.

Severus sighed and ran a hand over his face, feeling the beginnings of stubble making his face rough.

“All right, I was going to tell you two soon, in any case, as you will need to deal with the repercussions.” He took a deep breath. “Lily and I were married, quite secretly, for about seven months before I convinced her to marry Potter legally, hoping it would keep her safe – at least more safe than being my wife. I was already spying for Dumbledore at the time. What she never told me, was that she was already six weeks along with my child when she married Potter. Everyone thought Harry was a month early, even I did until a few days ago; he was actually a month late.”

“So Harry is truly your son?” Minerva asked, a hint of a smile lighting her face, her eyes softening as she gazed on the man who had just discovered he was a father.

“Yes. Lupin was the only one who knew – well, I suppose Potter knew – and he told me only because the charms were due to wear off after the boy’s twelfth birthday. I’m assuming the changes are becoming evident?” he asked, fairly curious. Both witches nodded their heads and Snape grimaced to himself. He had been with the boy almost constantly all week, and so had not truly noticed all the changes taking place.

“Does Harry know?” Poppy asked.

Severus shook his head slowly. “No, but I was going to tell him soon. He has put down any changes to the nutrient potion and my shampoo.” He grinned a bit at this last and the witches chuckled for a second, as well. “He’s gone through a lot this summer, what’s this going to do to him?” he wondered aloud.

“I think he will handle it fine. Does he know about you and Lily?” Minerva queried.

“I told him. And he asked the obvious question as to why I hadn’t checked up on him. He was quite distraught.” The women nodded in sympathy. “I told him that I had asked after him and that Albus assured me he was fine.” They all grimaced as they remembered just how fine he had been just one week ago. Then Severus remembered a question he needed to ask. “Minerva, how are the first-year letters addressed?”

“Automatically by the Book. I certainly don’t do it, although I sign the letters by hand. Why?”

“Do you ever check to see what the addresses say?”

“No, should I?”

“It might have saved us all a lot of strife last term and this summer – we certainly wouldn’t have let him return to that demon-hole,” he commented. “Harry told me that his first letter was addressed to his ‘Cupboard Under the Stairs’…” he explained.

“His what!” she fairly growled in anger.

“Yes. Apparently the cupboard where I found him had been his ‘room’ up until when the letters came, and so he was rightfully angered last Monday when we had our little talk. He assumed that we knew what was going on in the house, actually that Albus knew, and didn’t care enough to remove him.”

“I knew there were some problems with him getting his letter – I ended up sending hundreds of them until Albus finally said to send Hagrid, as he felt that he was the most intimidating person and would be able to actually hand Harry his letter. I never realised… Oh, Merlin!” She buried her face in her hands and Poppy rushed over to comfort her friend.

“Minerva, it’s water under the bridge. We can’t worry about this now; it’s in the past,” her friend said. McGonagall finally straightened up and looked over at Severus.

“I’m so sorry, Severus. I promise that I will be more diligent in checking the accuracy of those addresses. The letters go out this week, as a matter of fact.” She used the hanky, that Poppy conjured, to dry her tears. “I told Albus that first night, when we dropped Harry off, that I felt Petunia wasn’t the right person to care for Harry. I knew she didn’t like magic, and I could tell she overindulged that beastly son of hers. I should’ve pushed more. I should’ve checked on him… I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Minerva. I appreciate that. It’s partially my fault too. I also knew how Tuney could be – I grew up with her, for Merlin’s sake! I knew all too well how she felt towards Lils and Potter. But I wanted to believe Albus; believe that Lily’s son was being cared for properly. Perhaps this will teach us to be far less complacent. Maybe this way we can catch some problems before they arrive here.”  He sat up straighter in his chair. “If you detect any possible problems with the new batch of letters, let me know. I can recognize the signs of abuse far more quickly than the other teachers,” he insisted.

McGonagall nodded her agreement, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes as she looked out the window at the child who was currently flying patterns around Hagrid’s hut. Fang was running underneath, barking up a storm and Hagrid had his arms up in the air, clapping them in delight as he cheered Harry on.

Snape followed her gaze to the happy scene outside. “The changes will be complete in three weeks,” he said quietly. “Just as the students arrive. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what this will mean,” he reminded them, and Minerva turned her gaze back to her younger colleague. “Harry will be the butt of many cruel jokes, and I’m sure that there will be many attempts at hurting him. If it gets totally out of hand, I will remove him from school and will either transfer him to another academy or teach him at home. Prince Manor is mine now, since my grandfather passed on – although I’ve never fully taken possession. I lived there for only a short time with Lily, and have only been back periodically, since. This might just be the reason to take hold of my inheritance.” He chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny,” Minerva said with a frown. “I don’t see anything humorous in this entire situation; Death Eater’s will consider you a traitor, and Harry is going to be persecuted for a supposed affair his mother had with you! What’s funny in that?”

“I’m sorry, Minerva, I was just thinking about Dumbledore’s face when I tell him this news,” he elaborated for their benefit. Both ladies smirked as well.

”Oh, my, you’re right – it will be a sight to see. Can I be a cat in the corner?” She almost purred in anticipation, humour restored.

“If I can arrange it, of course.” The three chuckled at the imagined sight. “I’ll even provide you with a bowl of cream!” They all laughed outright at that picture.

“You know Albus will want to reapply the charms,” Poppy pointed out, after they had regained their composure. “Just so he won’t lose you and your abilities.”

“He can try, but these are charms Lily created. I don’t think even Filius could recreate them.” He glanced out the window and noticed that the light was fading quickly. “Well ladies, if I’ve satisfied your curiosity, I need to go collect Potter.”

“Let us know what we can do to help, Severus.” Poppy said as she ushered her fellow staff members to the infirmary doors.

“I will, Poppy, thank you. Minerva,” he said in farewell as he turned to the left at the doors and Minerva to the right.

“Today you will be brewing this.” Snape pointed his finger at a parchment set out at Harry’s workbench. Harry took a look at the instructions and blanched: This was the most difficult potion he’d had to make in the last ten days. Twenty ingredients meticulously timed and prepared, and they were only a third of the way through the book. Why spring this on him now? Was this, like, a midterm?

“You’re sure I’m ready for this?” he asked his teacher, scepticism clear in his voice.

“Positive, now get started.” Snape moved away to his own cauldron and Harry took a deep breath before beginning to study the instructions. As he did so, he realised he could brew this potion, it was tedious – but he just knew he could do it. Brushing his long hair out of his eyes, he began to set out his ingredients and set the flame under his cauldron.

Severus watched him, covertly, for a moment then went back to his own brewing. He had decided that today was the day he would let Harry know about their true relationship; and he was frightened to the core of his being. Would the boy accept him? Would they be able to become a family? He attempted to put those worries aside as he began work on some base potions for the coming year. Something mindless while he watched his son work.

During the last two weeks, he and the Medi-witch had finished their report for the Muggle authorities on the abuse Potter had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. The report had resulted in the family being taken into custody. Harry did not know of this turn of events, yet. He would eventually need to know, as he would be required to make an appearance in court – but that was in the future. They needed to get through Lupin’s news first.

A meeting with Lucius had been the perfect opportunity to casually drop the information that the wards had dropped on Privet Drive. By happy coincidence, the residence at number four had been invaded, ransacked and – when discovered that no one was home – burnt to the ground.

Unfortunately, Lucius had not been as forthcoming as Snape had wished; despite the fifty-year old Brandy he had brought to share. The man had boasted that he was carrying out a mission he had been given years ago by the Dark Lord, but that was all he was willing to reveal. Snape was frustrated, but did not let that show. He wasn’t sure if Malfoy truly knew what was going to happen, or if he was full of hot air. But there was no need to alarm Malfoy with his scepticism, or his curiosity; instead, he praised the man for his resourcefulness, stroking his ego every step of the way.

He had visited with his godson after that, to check up on him and make sure Lucius hadn’t been meting out his usual discipline of the boy – but all looked well, and Draco had only asked him a few questions about his homework and when he could come and visit Severus in the dungeons. Severus had put him off with a murmured “We’ll see, Draco – I’m quite busy this summer”. He did not need the angst in the dungeons that a meeting between the two boys would create. Not until he could buffer it beforehand.

Potter had improved in his tutorial, enough to amaze his sour professor. He even had nearly all his summer essays finished – to Severus’ satisfaction, which was a feat in itself. His handwriting was improving, with the forty-five minutes set aside each afternoon to practice penmanship with the quill. Repetitive lines of single letters, following an example parchment showing the strokes needed to form each letter - then full words - honed the hand and set the flesh memory into the fingertips.

They had also started in on some meditation exercises in the evening – after working out in Severus’ personal gym. Harry had been amazed that his professor had taken an unused classroom in the dungeons and had turned it into his own personal workout room. And the exercises Snape had set him had him physically wrung out after just an hour, which made the meditation work even better. Between the two, he needed the Dreamless Sleep less and less. What the boy was unaware of was that the meditation exercises were helping to create a bond between the two, a magical bond that linked their souls together as father and son. As the bond grew, their ability to detect what the other was feeling would grow as well.

The boy had also begun his physical changes, as the ladies had noticed earlier, although he was unaware of them yet – putting them down to the nutritive potion, or Severus’ shampoo; Severus had a good laugh to himself after that question had come up one night. Severus, however, was quite aware of the changes: Harry’s hair was less messy, he had gained length in his face and fingers, and he was starting to grow taller. It wouldn’t be long before Harry really started wondering what was going on. Thus, it was time.

So, today the professor had written out the receipt for the afternoon’s potion – a potion called Familiatas. This particular brew analysed the blood from two donors and determined their consanguinity. A colour change indicated how close the familial relationship was, with a royal purple hue indicating a parent/child bond. Severus kept that portion of the potion’s information on his desk, until needed later. He did not want Harry to know, just yet, what he was brewing. In fact, the last step – adding the blood – was omitted on Harry’s version of the potion.

The two worked quietly as they both concentrated on their tasks. Snape was nervous: what if Harry rejected him? Over the last two weeks it had seemed as if the two were getting along; Harry had shown his teacher respect, although a bit shyly, and he had even relaxed to the point of teasing his guardian with some sarcastic remarks that had been followed up with a small smile when Severus had teased back in kind. It had almost become a game between the two – who could be the most sarcastic before breaking a grin. Snape always won, but Harry was starting to give him a run for his money.

He snuck some looks at his son; watching with a feeling, akin to pride, as he saw how confidently the boy brewed the complicated potion.

***

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I believe I’m finished,” Harry announced a while later, stepping back from the potions bench so his guardian could check his work. Snape wandered over to the workbench and peered into the cauldron, gently simmering. The potion had been perfectly brewed and Snape nodded to himself as he Accio-ed the results parchment from his desk and placed it beside the cauldron.

“Well done. Now, take your silver knife and add three drops of blood from your index finger.” Harry looked warily at the man, but complied – wincing as the knife bit into the tip of his finger and he watched three small, ruby-red drops fall into the centre of the cauldron. It stained the top of the potion as it spread out in a thin film. “Good, now stir three times clockwise with your glass rod.” Harry did this as well, and looked back up at his teacher.

“May I?” Severus asked the boy while reaching for the knife. The child nodded mutely and his eyes grew wide as he watched his teacher pierce his own finger and add three more drops to the brew. Harry stirred the potion again when requested, and the two leaned forward over the cauldron, watching the potion darken from a light pink to a royal purple.

Snape leaned back, sighing in satisfaction as the werewolf’s information was confirmed; not that he had doubted the intelligence was true - he just liked to verify things his own way if he could. He sat down on the stool and handed the parchment to his son.

“What’s this?” Harry asked as he took his own seat.

“These are the potion’s possible results. The potion determines the degree of familial relationship between two people.”

“‘Familial…’” He gazed back in the cauldron and then down at the paper in his hands. “‘Royal Purple indicates a parent/child relationship,’” he read off the sheet. He was quiet for a long moment before he slowly raised his eyes to look at the man seated next to him. Taking a huge gulp of air, and gathering his Gryffindor courage, he asked, “You’re my father? That's what this means, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Snape simply said, watching the child carefully.

“How – how long have you known?” The child’s voice cracked with his suppressed anger.

“Only since last Tuesday night; Lupin told me after he realised you were staying with me for the summer. He knew the charms your mother had set on you to make you appear to be James Potter’s son were going to wear off this month.”

That took the wind out of Harry’s sails. “Oh…” He stared back at the parchment, then up to his professor. “That’s why I look like James Potter?”

“Yes, your mother was quite good with charms; this is one she created. However, the glamours are starting to wear off; they should be completely gone by the end of the month.”

Harry suddenly stood, tears bright in his eyes – but not from happiness. “Is there anything in my life that is not a lie?” he choked out. “I don’t know who I am anymore! Do you… do you even want me?” His arms had unconsciously gone around his torso, hugging himself in his confusion.

“Want you? Of course I do!” Severus eased himself off his stool and took a step toward his son. He gently enclosed the boy in his arms and let the child sob into his robes. He quietly began to reassure the pre-teen.

“I was unaware you were born a month late – I lost all contact with Lily during that time period. Besides, she was trying to protect the both of us – she wasn’t going to let that be jeopardised. I was still spying on the Dark Lord. Potter apparently knew, and yet he loved you as if you were his – don’t ever forget that. However, the truth is – you are my son; my flesh and blood with Lily, conceived when we were still married. I want you more than anything in this world! Can you understand that?” Slowly he stroked the raven head, waiting for Harry to settle down.

“I – I – I just feel that the world has been turned over so many times the last few days,” the boy sobbed as Snape pulled back a bit.

“Harry, look at me,” the older man commanded. Harry raised his head and met the black eyes that now showed concern for him. “Things are now the way they should have been years ago. This may take us awhile to sort out, and get used to, but we can do it. I will acknowledge you – yes, even if it means giving up my spying,” he said to the concerned green eyes. “Your mother thought she was protecting us – I can’t fault her for that. How could she have known you would end up at Petunia’s?” Harry flinched at the memories that name evoked. “But you are never going back there!”

That startled Harry. “What? Why?”

“By acknowledging you, I gain full parental custody, not just the guardianship that we agreed to earlier. You would stay with me over the holidays. Besides,” he said with a partial lift to his lips, “The Dursleys have been taken into Muggle custody for their abuse of you. Somehow, the shadier side of wizardom found out the wards were down and got – shall we say – a little enthusiastic in their investigation.” He delighted in making the boy’s eyes go round in surprise, and this news nearly had them popping out of their sockets.

“Are you serious?” exclaimed his boy.

Snape refrained, with great effort, from snapping back a sarcastic retort, as it would have gone clean over the child’s head. He settled for a sincere “Yes” instead.

“Bloody hell!” Harry murmured in pleased surprise. Severus cuffed him across the back of the head for his use of language, but then gathered the child against his side in a surprising show of affection.

“So, what do I call you?” Harry asked as they later walked along Salazar’s corridor back to their quarters. The portrait had been ecstatic with the news, and promised not to tell the Headmaster on pain of being burnt.

“Let’s stick to Severus, or sir, for the time being. Anything else can come later, when you’re ready.”

Harry nodded as he opened the door to their quarters, but then gasped as he espied Dumbledore sitting in the lounge area.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the headmaster before giving his son a push between the shoulder blades. “Go wash up for dinner, Harry. Albus, what can I do for you?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry murmured, rapidly disappearing down the corridor to his room.

“‘Harry’ now, Severus?” the old man asked, stroking his beard, eyes twinkling.

“When I feel like it, what do you need?” he asked coolly, not bothering to sit down – although Albus had already taken the liberty of Snape’s best chair.

“I heard about the Dursleys,” he began, going straight to the point, the twinkle gone from his eyes; instead they were like hard blue stones.

“And you came to see if I was responsible for it?” Snape said as he walked to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a small brandy. He deliberately did not offer one to the Headmaster, but went to sit behind his desk, keeping the expanse of polished wood between him and the old man.

“I’m positive you were; you take your guardianship duties seriously. Was it necessary, however, to deprive them of their home?” Dumbledore said sadly.

“They deprived Harry, Albus. They abused him, starved him, and used him like a house-elf. Good riddance. Besides, they’re in custody, they have no need of that… abode.”

“We don’t know that for sure, Severus…”

Severus nearly lost it right then. “Don’t know for sure? Dumbledore – are you living with your head in the sand? Did you not read those reports that Pomfrey put together; did you not see the damage with your own eyes? Are you deliberately trying to be obtuse?” He paused in thought, calming himself down. “Or,” he drawled out, “did you know and you left him there anyway?” he asked, almost positive he was right. And apparently he was correct as his superior paled, collapsing in on himself as the accusation hit home.

“The blood wards… they were his only protection… his mother’s sacrifice. Petunia knew what was at stake…” Dumbledore mumbled to himself. Snape was having none of his excuses, though.

“And she repudiated him, breaking those wards. McGonagall and I told you numerous times that Petunia was not a fit guardian. Think, Dumbledore, think!” he growled. “You knew Petunia was jealous of Lily’s gift, and that jealousy turned to hate after their parents were murdered. Why would you think she would care for Lily’s son? You are exceedingly lucky they hadn’t killed him – although it was damnably close!” he spat.

“And where will Harry stay next summer?” asked the headmaster faintly, slowly coming back to his senses.

“With me, Dumbledore, I am his guardian…”

“For this summer only…” he pointed out, his tone gaining more vigor.

“No, Albus, permanently. He. Is. My. Son!” He slammed a fist down on the desk in emphasis, causing a few piles to start sliding. He waved his hand quickly, setting a non-verbal, wandless charm on them to keep them in place. He hadn’t planned on telling the old busybody this news so quickly, but he had to take the upper hand. And it felt good to stun the old man, almost as good as it felt to take him to task for Harry’s injuries.

This news surprised Dumbledore. “Your what?” Snape was amused, the man actually sounded angry and aggrieved; as if his plans had been toppled over in one fell swoop.

“My son,” said Snape quietly and firmly. “Lily and I were married – quite secretly – but decided with my spying that she would be safer if she were married legally to Potter. Harry was born eight months later and everyone assumed he was a month early. In reality he was a month late.”

“When did you find out?”

“Last Tuesday night.”

“Lupin,” the old man said flatly. The two men looked up as Harry re-entered the room, curious after hearing the shouting. “This complicates many things, Severus,” he said, turning back to his potions master, ignoring the young man. Severus hooded his eyes at the slight to the boy.

“I’m aware of that. However, the charms will be gone by September first and the problem becomes a moot point – everyone will see the change and know he is related to me. Just to let you know, I have already filed the corrected paperwork with the ministry through a discreet contact I have there.” Snape leaned back in his chair, swirling his brandy sniffer in one hand. “I’m afraid the minute this news gets out, my spying days are over,” he stated with a bit of pleasure in his voice. Lately, all he wanted to do was teach and get to know his son better, not necessarily in that order.

Harry took a seat at the table, watching the two men discuss his life. He had been surprised, but pleasantly so, when Severus revealed that the paperwork acknowledging Harry as his son was already on file at the ministry. For a moment, though, he felt like he was a superfluous person in the room until he noticed the headmaster looking away for a moment and Severus catching Harry’s eyes, giving him a short nod. So, Severus was playing Dumbledore; Harry decided to sit back and watch the master at work.

“I need you to spy, Severus, you’re the only one…” Dumbledore pleaded.

“I am not,” he snapped. “There are other people just as capable of maintaining contact with those Death Eaters who are still free.”

“Perhaps; but none with your experience, or as highly placed in the organisation. We could replace the charms…”

“No, actually, you can’t. They were Lily’s creation,” he stated proudly. “I have absolutely no idea how she created and manipulated them. Nor am I even going to attempt to fathom them.”

“But surely with the charms off, you two will be more at risk…”

“I said ‘No’,” said Severus sharply. “If you are not willing to work with us on this, then I will take my son elsewhere; Hogwarts is not the only game in town,” he threatened, black eyes steely in their glare.

“It’s not?” Harry suddenly piped up in surprise, before remembering he should’ve stayed quiet. But his father just raised an eyebrow at him before answering smoothly.

“No, it’s not. There are many other institutes of wizard learning, or you can be home schooled.” His voice was silky and unruffled, but his eyes said, ‘Now hush up, and let me deal with him.’ Harry looked contrite as he settled back into his seat, tucking his hands under his legs, and sucking his lower lip under his teeth to remind himself to keep quiet and still.

“In fact, home schooling may be the route to go,” Severus mused, looking up at the ceiling and leaning back in his chair, swirling the brandy some more, as he contemplated Harry’s options out loud. “Or perhaps Durmstrang… yes, he could learn many defensive techniques at Durmstrang. Hmm, I do believe my old friend, Karkaroff, is now headmaster there, I’m sure I could get Harry transferred for next term, and get a teaching position as well.” He looked thoughtful, but he was watching Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. The old man was definitely fuming in his seat, the eyes gaining a hard blue edge, instead of the usual twinkle. He gently warmed the brandy once again before taking a long sip. He knew Dumbledore would rather walk on flaming coals than have Harry under Karkaroff’s tutelage.

“Fine, fine…” the old man finally broke. “I guess I can find someone else to spy.”

“Good,” said Snape, apparently satisfied. He straightened up in his chair, setting the brandy glass down on the polished wooden surface in front of him, and folding his arms across the edge of the desk as he leaned toward his mentor. “Now I can give you some information from Lucius and Harry. Apparently Lucius is planning something for the school year. I was unable to discover what, but it was dire enough to make his house-elf, Dobby, take it upon himself to warn Harry not to return to school. It has something to do with a mission that the Dark Lord gave Lucius before he was defeated. That’s all I could get from him.”

Dumbledore’s eyes grew calculating, the twinkling, that had come back momentarily, settling into a hard gleam. “Then Harry wasn’t the reason for the misuse of magic, I take it.” He finally sent his piercing gaze over to the boy hunched in the chair. Harry took this to mean he could finally talk.

“No sir, it was Dobby; he did the hover charm, and crashed my aunt’s pudding all over my uncle’s guests.”

“I see.” Dumbledore looked back over at Snape and sighed. “Alright, I will take the warning as it stands. There is not much else I can do until the school term starts and we see what turns up.” He stood and ambled his way over to the door.

“Albus,” Snape called, with a warning in his voice.

“Yes, my boy?” He halted with his hand on the doorknob.

“I hold you partially responsible for what happened to Harry at Petunia’s. If you so much as step one toe out of line again, where it concerns my son, I will make good my threat; I will remove him from this school, and you won’t be able to find him until I say so.”

Dumbledore looked sad at this pronouncement but he nodded his head. “I understand, Severus.” He slowly opened the door and headed out into the dank dungeon corridor beyond.

Harry and Severus were enjoying an evening in front of the fireplace in mid-August playing a game of wizard’s chess. Well, Severus was playing. Harry was scowling at the board; attempting to get the men, he had gotten last Christmas, to obey his requests. Severus was trying to work on his son’s strategic skills by teaching him the finer points of the game. It appeared he needed to teach him the more elementary skills as well.

“Harry, that move is not going to work – I’ll have you checkmated in three moves,” he pointed out to the child.

“Bloody…” Harry swore under his breath.

“Harry! Do I need to summon the soap bar again?”

Harry quickly looked contrite. “No, sorry.” He propped his chin on top of his hand as he studied the board again.

Severus tried another tack. “Let your pieces help you, they do know what they are supposed to do. For an inexperienced player, they can be most helpful.”

Harry looked over at his father with a gobsmacked expression on his face. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?” He wiggled his way straighter in his chair, gazing back down at the board, a little more intently. “Alright gentlemen – and lady, start making your recommendations!” He listened closely as the knights, rooks and royalty began making intelligent suggestions. He started following their advice and the game took on a more competitive aspect.

The two dark men were deep into their strategies when the floo flared green and a small blond form tumbled out of it onto the hearthrug, coughing and moaning.

Severus moved, quick as lightening, almost overturning the chess table as he nearly apparated to the side of the young man curled up in a tight ball, crying and coughing up blood.

“Merlin’s beard, Dragon, what has that bastard done now?” He gently lifted the Slytherin student over to the divan coaxing him to straighten out so he could run the diagnostic charms. “He’s broken your ribs again, and bruised some internal organs – ah, and a punctured lung. Harry, floo Poppy and tell her to get down here with the Slytherin kit.”

Harry, who had been watching this scene with his mouth hanging open, stumbled over to the fireplace and, after throwing in a pinch of powder from the box on the mantelpiece, called out to the Medi-witch. She answered quickly and he moved out of the way, standing behind the divan as he watched his father, and then the healer, work quickly on his hated rival, pouring potion after potion down his throat and casting spells in rapid succession over the small student’s body. This is what it must have looked like when Severus had saved him from the Dursleys.

Harry didn’t know what to think – he had been through so many paradigm shifts the past few weeks; now to see his nemesis apparently had as bad a home life as himself… well, it just added another shift to his ever changing world. Apparently this was a common experience: his father had said something about it happening again. How many times had Lucius Malfoy beaten his son into a bloody mess? Was this some sort of pure-blood way of disciplining kids?

“Severus? Is he going to be all right?” he timidly asked his father, as the man stood up after covering Draco with a blanket when the child had finally fallen asleep. Severus looked up into the scared eyes of his son. It was obvious Harry was flashing back to the Dursley’s abuse.

“He’ll survive,” he said quietly. He nodded to Pomfrey as she laid a hand on his shoulder in sympathy before flooing back to the hospital wing. She knew Draco would be in capable hands.

“Why… why’d he come here?” Harry had adopted his protective stance of wrapping his arms around himself as he looked up at the older wizard.

Severus took a long breath. Harry was his son; he would have to know about Draco and his relationship with Severus. He would’ve preferred to have had more time to prepare Harry, but those were not the cards he had been dealt. He led the boy over to the dining table and sat him down, taking a seat opposite him.

“I’m his godfather, Harry,” he said quietly, watching for the reaction he was sure would come.

“His godfather?” Harry tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. He had just found his father and now he was learning he had to share him with Malfoy, of all people? How more twisted could his life get?

Severus seemed to understand what was going through Harry’s mind. “Harry, I love you – I will always love you, you can not be supplanted in my heart. However, I love Draco as if he were my own – this is not the first time he has come to me out of fear of his father, nor will it be the last. I know you two do not get along, normally, but for my sake – while he is here – please try to bury the hatchet.” He placed a hand on the boy’s knee, giving it a slight squeeze in emphasis.

Harry nodded glumly. Obviously Malfoy did not lead the charmed life he led everyone to believe. Wealth did not buy decent parents. Well, he wasn’t going to tease the boy about it, Merlin knew he wouldn’t want to be ridiculed about his home life with his relatives; he would just wait and see what happened.

“Why don’t you put him in my room tonight, I can sleep on the couch,” he offered.

His father gave him a rare warm smile. “Thank you, Harry. That is a generous offer, but unnecessary. I’ll merely transfigure the couch into a bed. I want Draco to stay here so I can monitor him closely and keep him warm. I appreciate the gesture, though; and I’m sure, if Draco was coherent enough, he would as well.”

Harry didn’t think that was rather likely, considering their past, but he let it slide and didn’t make the comment. “I’ll just go to bed then. Do you need me to get you anything?”

Severus stood up and walked around the table to his son, placing a congenial arm around the youth’s shoulders as they strolled to the hallway. “No, Harry, I don’t need anything. Go on to bed! And don’t forget your meditations!”

“Yes, sir!” Harry grinned shyly up at the man and entered his room.

***

Severus had placed a warning spell on Draco, and thus he was awake and quickly at the boy’s side when the blond began to thrash around.

“Shhhh, Dragon, it’s just a nightmare…” he soothed, stroking the hair back from his godson’s sweaty brow. Draco took a few hitching breaths before the grey eyes quickly opened to stare at his godfather.

“Uncle Sev? I made it?” the fear in his face broke Severus’ heart.

“Yes, Draco, you made it. Gave me quite a scare, but you are healed now, and safe.” He continued stroking the boy’s head to calm him down and was rewarded with a contented sigh.

“Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed, Dragon, you are welcome here at any time. What happened this time?”

“I don’t know…” the boy murmured as tears began sliding down his cheeks. “For all I know he made something up – or assumed I needed the yearly beating. Mother just walked away after giving me some sort of pitying look,” he ground out.

“Well, someone sent your school trunk over – so you’ll be staying here for the rest of the month.”

The blond head just nodded his acceptance of this fact; it had happened before.

“Now, try to get more sleep. Do you need a sleeping draught?”

“No, I’ll be all right. Thank you, Uncle Sev.”

Severus nodded and, after giving the head another soothing pat, left the boy and headed back to his room. He found Harry standing sleepily in the hallway. He motioned to keep quiet and beckoned the boy to follow him into his room where he closed the door and cast a silencing spell at the door.

Harry followed his father and sat on the bed when told to, dangling his socked feet over the edge. He knew his father hated fidgeting, so he drew his feet up under him before Severus noticed. He gazed over at the picture of his parents on their wedding day. Severus had shown it to him a few days before and he loved it. It helped heal a lot of empty places in his soul when he thought about them together. It seemed… right… somehow. His father had promised him that soon they would go through some more photos of his mum when she was young, and he couldn’t wait. But right now that paled with what he had heard in the hallway.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Severus asked as he conjured a cup of soothing tea for the boy.

“Mal –Draco. His father beat him for no reason?” he spluttered out. “At least my uncle always had a reason…”

“Oh, I’m sure Lucius had a reason; most likely one of expectations not being met.” Severus snorted as he joined Harry on the mattress. “Lucius was always one for expecting perfection, and punishing harshly when perfection was not reached. But, Harry, just as it is wrong for Lucius to beat Draco, it was wrong for Vernon to beat you and treat you the way he did. Have you not ever seen that?”

“Not until recently… it was just the way things were. He always told me I was worthless and a freak, and that my parents were good-for-nothing drunks who had gotten themselves killed in a car crash; and until last year – I believed it all. I only began to really question it after Hagrid came for me.” He looked down into the cup, but did not drink.

Severus took Harry’s chin in his hand and turned it gently towards him. “You are none of those things, son. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, you are not a freak, and your parents were some of the bravest people in our world.” He removed the saucer from his son’s hand before he gathered the tearful child against his chest and let the boy hold onto him for a few moments.

“Harry, the authorities contacted me this week about the trial. It’s to be right after school starts. Because you are a minor, they want you to have an advocate in court with you. He would be someone there just for you, representing just your interests – not mine, not the Dursleys. He would like to talk to you this week. It could help…”

“Why can’t you? I don’t mind talking to you – I don’t know about someone else. You’re the only one who has ever believed me – other adults just… Well, they would get intimidated by my relatives, and believed them when they said I was a liar and should appreciate the home my relatives had so graciously provided for me.” He said this with a sneer as if it was a common thing for him to hear, and he detested it. What he didn’t say was that it had only taken one instance of him going to a teacher for help, and getting rebuffed in this manner, that had convinced him that no one would ever be able to help him.

“I’ll be there as well,” Severus reassured him. “But I’ll be looking out for both of our interests. This is just some added protection for you, and I think he would help. His name is Whitney McDonald, and he specialises in Child Advocacy. He works with the wizarding courts as well as the Muggle ones. Will you let me invite him over?”

Harry finally nodded from his spot on Severus’ chest. Severus gave one last pat on Harry’s back and then eased the boy up.

“Come on, then, get under the covers; you might as well stay here the rest of the night.” Harry gave him a weary smile and scrambled under the duvet that his dad held invitingly open. Severus Nox-ed the lights and walked around to the other side of the bed and stretched his lanky frame along the length of it. He was pleasantly surprised a moment later when Harry cuddled up to him in his sleep. He sighed contentedly and closed his own eyes as a thin, warm arm wrapped itself around his torso.

***

Harry was sitting at the table the next morning, putting the final touches on his transfiguration essay, when their guest woke up. The blond sat up, stretching his arms and legs and gently fingering his ribs. He smiled when a deep breath did not invoke the pain he was expecting and, giving a little bounce, stood up. The bed immediately reverted back to its couch form and the blankets neatly folded themselves, settling on the cushions. Harry blinked rapidly at this – magic still stunned him sometimes – and then gave a wary look at the other boy. Malfoy had just noticed him.

“What are you doing here, Potter? Already in detention? During the summer?” the blond sneered. “Merlin, I knew you were idiotic, but I didn’t know you were stupid!”

Harry snorted as he set his quill down before it could drip ink on his parchment. He would restrain himself from punching Draco before the other boy had breakfast; but after that? All bets were off. “I’m neither, but I think you should ask Severus that question.” He indicated down the hallway towards his father’s room with his quill tip, which he had picked up again. “He’s down there.”

“I’ll do that,” the other boy retorted as he stormed across the lounge area to the corridor beyond. Harry heard him murmuring to himself “Severus! That’s rich! Who said Potter could call Uncle by his first name…”

“He gave me permission,” Harry retorted. “ And while you’re at it,” Harry called, “your trunk is in my room. You might want to shower and change before talking to Severus,” he suggested pointedly. He heard a snort in reply and a mumbled, “Your room, hah!” Harry tried to contain his snicker, but was mostly unsuccessful. He nearly fell off his chair laughing when a loud, “Bloody Hell!” came carolling down the hallway as Draco opened the door to the red and gold bedroom. A warning, “Draco! Language!”, from his father’s room, had Harry completing the manoeuvre, and he was giggling his fool head off while seated on the floor.

Severus stuck his head out of his door and saw his son laughing happily. He just shook his head in amusement, rolled his eyes once and pulled his head back in before Harry saw him.

Ten minutes later, Harry was re-seated in his chair when he heard a knock on the door to Severus’ room and a muffled “Enter”, before the door snicked open, then closed. He heard nothing else and assumed Severus had cast another silencing charm, so he proceeded on, finishing the final draft of his last essay for the summer. McGonagall, along with all the other teachers, had told him that he could turn it in early if he wanted to, and he did.

She had been remarkably supportive of their news; and he’d had some pleasant talks with her over the last week, with her reminiscing about Severus and his rivals, the Potter gang – or, as they called themselves, The Marauders.

“Oh, yes. They put the Weasley twins to shame – although those two are fast approaching their sheer… audacity.” He remembered her saying. He had discovered there had been four Marauders; Remus Lupin had been one of them, as well as his dad – or rather his step-dad. She didn’t say much about the other two, and he had gotten the impression that their stories were not happy ones.

Another half hour found Harry rolling up his essay, and gathering his books. As he wandered back down the hallway towards his room, his father’s door opened to reveal Severus with his hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s face revealed his inner consternation about having to live in the same rooms with Harry.

“Let’s head to your room, boys,” Severus stated and indicated with a push on Draco that he was to follow Harry to the other bedroom.

When they entered, Harry found that the room had already been expanded a bit more to accommodate another bed, wardrobe, desk and nightstand. A peek into the bathroom revealed another sink had been added in front of the mirror. It was clear the new area was Draco’s, as the bed was adorned in green and silver and a green oval rug was on the floor next to his red one.

Harry walked over to his desk and set his books down before taking a seat. Draco went to sit on the other side of the room at his new desk; as far away from Harry as he could get, it seemed. Severus surveyed them both before speaking.

“Gentlemen, for the next two weeks you will be sharing this room. You both now know, generally, how the other individual has lived at home,” he said, ignoring the glare from his son, as the child realised he had revealed some of his problems to the young Slytherin. “And I expect both of you to be civil to each other while in my home. Draco, I don’t think I need to warn you that the information you now possess, about the relationship between Harry and I, is confidential. However, should you even think about passing this information along to your father or his associates at any time, you will suffer my wrath. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Uncle Severus.”

“Do I need a Wizard’s Oath from you?”

“No, sir,” said the blond, respectfully.

“Good. Harry, I expect you to be a good host while Draco shares your room with you. Please keep your Gryffindor tendencies down to a minimum for the duration, please, or cleaning cauldrons will be the most pleasant of your punishments.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Lunch in ten minutes, gentlemen.” He turned around, his robes billowing behind him as he stalked back down the hall.

Harry sighed to himself as he fiddled with his quill on top of his desk. What a situation to be in. Here he was - having to share a room, and his father - with Malfoy. He looked over at the blond who was sitting at the desk trying to look pompous and failing miserably. Harry sighed to himself and set his quill firmly back down on the desk blotter. He had promised himself to give Malfoy a chance, back when they had met in Diagon Alley. Before he could back down out of cowardice, he stood up and walked over to stand in front of Draco, who stood up with a hint of self-defence in his stance.

Harry stuck his hand out to the other boy. “Hullo, I’m Harry Potter-Snape.” Malfoy stared at the hand for a moment, as if it was going to turn into a snake and bite him; but a grin suffused his face, erasing the snootiness, as he clasped the hand and replied, “Hullo, Harry Potter-Snape, I’m Draco Malfoy.”

Harry sat down on the edge of Draco’s bed. “So, I bet you were surprised when Severus told you?”

“Surprised is putting it mildly; I nearly had a seizure,” he admitted. “I bet you were troll-stomped. How long have you known?”

“Mm, a little over a week, now. And yeah – it had me floored. Apparently my mum had some kind of charm on my appearance – it broke on my birthday. I’ve been changing ever since. I’m sorry about… you know…” he waved a hand vaguely in the air to indicate Malfoy’s injuries.

“My father?” Draco said with a sneer, understanding Harry’s hint. “Yeah, I’m sorry too – that he’s my father. Severus said you’re here originally because your family beat you? Everyone supposed you were pampered and coddled by those Muggles. Why didn’t you ever tell anyone about it – like your head of house?”

“Well, I wasn’t coddled. Far from it.” Harry got a frown on his face, before looking at the other boy. “I’m sorry, I’m not ready to talk about it. I haven’t really got a good track record when it comes to telling adults things. I tried to tell McGonagall about last year – and she didn’t believe us at the time.” That was one of things she and Harry had spoken about, as well as her not noticing where his letter had been addressed. She had apologised in her brusque no-nonsense way, but he could tell she was sincere: her brogue had gotten quite thick with the emotion she had been holding back. “I pretty much figured no one would believe me if I said the reason I didn’t want to go back to my relatives was because they treated me like dragon dung,” he quietly explained. “I did try to get the headmaster to let me stay – but he said I had to go back, because of protections.”

“Huh, doesn’t work too well against those who live with you, does it?” Draco nodded in understanding as they heard Severus calling them to the lunch table. “Well, I know what you’re going through – a little bit; if you ever want to talk…” he offered.

“Thanks, Malfoy, I’ll keep you in mind,” Harry said as they headed towards lunch.

***

“Harry, Draco, come down, it’s five o’clock and Mr McDonald is here.” He turned to the wizard beside him who was carrying a muggle briefcase. “Sorry about that, but both boys are Quidditch crazy and Draco is vying for a position on the Slytherin team this year. Harry already plays on the Gryffindor team; he’s been helping Draco hone his snitch seeking skills this week. Any chance they get, they’re out here,” he said shaking his head. Whitney McDonald just chuckled as he watched the boys catch the snitch one more time - Harry actually caught it - and direct their flight paths over to the two older men.

The boys dismounted a short distance away and walked towards the wizards. Severus made the introductions.

“Whitney, this is my son, Harry…”

“Good catch, my boy!” Whitney praised.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, stuffing the snitch into a pocket. His father had gotten him the little golden ball to use for practicing with Draco. It was a top of the line practice snitch and he was quite proud of it.

Severus continued, “And my godson, Draco Malfoy.”

“A pleasure meeting you, Mr Malfoy.”

“Mr McDonald,” Draco acknowledged in his best patrician tones.

Harry had to restrain himself from elbowing his roommate; Draco could be such a prat at times. They were getting along better, after a few days of rooming together – although Harry still thought Draco could be a stuck-up prig about things, mostly grooming and food choices; he spent inordinate amounts of time in front of the mirror, and complained constantly about Harry’s culinary tastes – much too plebeian for the pure-blooded boy.

But, they had found common ground in Quidditch and Chocolate Frog cards – of all things – and Harry had discovered that Draco liked studying about magical creatures, so he’d introduced him to Hagrid. After a few awkward moments, the half-giant and the Slytherin had begun chatting up a storm about their mutual favourite subject.

“Shall we go inside and have a spot of tea while we go over things?” Whitney suggested, and they all headed towards the castle, and Severus’ quarters in the dungeons.

After they all had warmed up with some tea, Severus began to suggest to Draco that he should take his books to the library and study, but Harry stopped him, laying a hand on his sleeve, and glanced over at the blond.

“It’s all right, Dad, Draco can stay. He might as well hear it all. He won’t understand my nightmares, otherwise.” Draco paled at that, but sat resolutely in his chair, looking from Harry, to Severus, to Whitney and back to Harry again. Harry’d had a few nightmares over the past several days, waking Draco up – but Severus had always gathered Harry up and taken him to his own room, so that Draco could resume sleeping. Both Snapes had been reluctant to relate the subjects of those dreams, and Draco hadn’t pressed – although he was curious.

Severus looked deep into Harry’s eyes, seeing the sincerity there, and reluctantly agreed. Whitney lifted his briefcase onto the table and, after opening it up, took a Muggle spiral notebook and biro out.

“There are some things that Muggles have improved upon,” he said as explanation to the incredulous look on Severus and Draco’s faces. Harry just smiled along. “Shall we retire by the floo? Harry I want you to sit here on the divan next to me, Severus if you will sit next to him and Draco, the other chair please. Good. Now, Harry, in order to be your advocate, I need to understand what your relatives did. This is going to be hard for you, I know, and it will bring up some very nasty memories; but we have to do this. The medical scans that Madam Pomfrey took, tell me what injuries have occurred to your body over the years, but not how they occurred.”

Harry gulped hard and nodded his head. He felt Severus cover one of his trembling hands with his own and he soaked in the comfort his father was offering. He didn’t think he’d be able to do this without Severus being there.

“Fine, now I want you to think back to your earliest memories of living with your aunt and uncle. When do you first remember them treating you different from your cousin?”

Harry cast his mind back to his earliest childhood and answered the question. “When I was a baby. Dudders always got seen to first; Diaper always changed, bottle presented when he screamed… I was left in the playpen in a dark corner of the room. She only changed me when my diaper overflowed, and I didn’t have any toys… just my blanket that I was wrapped in when I came to them. I might get a bottle once or twice a day. When I was old enough to toddle around, she put me straight to work, giving me more and more chores to do as I grew. When I got too big for the pen, they put me in the cupboard. I stayed there until my letters came from Hogwarts.”

“Letters? I thought they only sent one?” Whitney enquired. So, Harry explained about his uncle destroying all the letters, and the lengths he went to in order for Harry to never receive the letter and read it.

“…so Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies,” he concluded. Whitney chuckled at the image of Dudley with a pig’s tail.

Whitney looked at his notes before addressing Harry again and Harry took the chance to look over at Draco. The boy was buried in the chair, face nearly as white as his hair, eyes wide with fear on Harry’s behalf. Harry gave him a reassuring look, then turned back to the advocate when he asked another question. “Harry, it says in the notes from Madam Pomfrey that you were undernourished when you arrived last month and that it was a chronic condition; erm, it had been going on for awhile,” he clarified. “How long had that been?”

“Always,” came the quiet answer. “I never was allowed to eat with them, I always had to get food when and where I could. Uncle Vernon would withhold food if he felt I didn’t measure up to his specifications on chores, which was almost every day. He would pour chemicals over the leftovers in the garbage so I wouldn’t even think about scrounging around in there to get some. That started after he caught me one night. Sometimes I had to beg for food, just to be able to complete my chores, otherwise I would’ve been too weak.”

“When did the physical beatings start?”

Harry felt his father’s hand grip his harder. He stared down at the rug on the floor, tracing the pattern with his eyes as he answered, his body trembling in remembered pain. “When I was three. I was taking a cup of tea to uncle and Dudley tripped me, making me spill it on uncle. He thrashed me right there and threw me into the cupboard. After that, I was made to sleep there.” He heard a gasp from Draco’s chair, but didn’t look up.

“And when did the other abuse start?” Whitney asked gently. Harry started at that; how did they know? They couldn’t, shouldn’t know! No one was supposed to know about that! Then he remembered that Madam Pomfrey had to document everything she found in her scans, and of course she would have found something…. there. Not only were there signs… there… but his soul felt like it had a black mark on it, twisting it wrongly, befouling its entire substance. Severus gathered his son into his side and wiped the tears from his face, as the boy sat rigid in absolute terror of the question and everything it represented.

“Harry?” Whitney asked again.

“I have to answer?” he asked his parent.

The man nodded. “You have to try, son.”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to force himself to talk. He tried to convince himself that it was to his benefit if he told. They were in custody; they couldn’t reach him… Could they? He took a deep breath before whispering, “When… when I was nine. He was drunk and Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley and a friend to the cinema for his birthday.” There, that was easy enough. He continued on in a quieter voice – not wanting to shatter the stunned silence in the room. “I was locked in my cupboard. I could hear him shouting around the house about losing a client, and blaming it on me… then he opened the door and… and…” He looked pleadingly into his father’s eyes; he couldn’t say it, he couldn’t admit it. He had tried and he just couldn’t do it. He shook his head in negation as he buried it in his father’s robes, trembling and sobbing.

Severus stroked his son’s head as he stared at Whitney, the two men sombre. They had both seen what perversions, such as Dursley, could and would do to a small boy or girl. They both understood why Harry could not vocalise the abuse. Draco, turning whiter than before, had bolted from his chair and tore down the hall, barely making it to the toilet before throwing up his lunch.

“I’m sorry, Harry, Severus. Unfortunately, I have to know in order to help; perhaps we can work later on this, or find some other way to retrieve the information, short of drugs.”

“I understand, Mr McDonald, I may have some suggestions for later.” Severus summoned a calming draught from his stores and coaxed his son into drinking it. “I think that will end today’s session, however.”

“I agree, professor. Harry, I want you to have this.” He handed Harry a blank notebook and Harry took it with a puzzled look on his face, as he scrubbed his eyes with Severus’ hanky. “It’s a journal, Harry. I’ve found that writing down your feelings and thoughts at the end of the day helps you put things in perspective and to acknowledge them. It might help you to acknowledge what your uncle did, at least to yourself. You see it is charmed so no one else may read it – only you. Anything you write will be between you and the journal. I want you to promise me that you will write every night before going to bed, even if it’s only ‘I hate to write in this stupid journal’.” Harry smiled wryly at the man’s attempt at humour. “Can you do that for me?”

“I think so,” came the whispered answer.

“Good. And you may want to read the poem I have charmed to the inside of the fly cover. Only you can read it, and I have found that it can have a profound impact on abuse survivors, such as yourself. Give it a read later. Severus, can I talk with you at the door?” Severus settled Harry on the couch, clutching his notebook and laying on a throw pillow with an afghan tossed over him, staring into the small fire that danced in the floo.

“I’ll be right back, son.” Harry just nodded and closed his eyes.

Severus walked over to the door where Whitney stood waiting, his briefcase clutched before him.

“Severus, I couldn’t help but notice – is your godson also a victim of abuse? I only ask because he seemed to relate only too well to Harry’s narrative.”

“Yes. Unfortunately politics dictate that I cannot accuse his father just yet. I try to do as much as I can. Fortunately the school year is almost upon us and his father will have limited access. I’m going to insist Draco stay here for the winter holidays. I consider him as much a son as Harry – I just wish it could be so for real.”

Whitney shook his head in sympathy. “You have your hands full, professor; I don’t envy you. Perhaps the same exercise will help him? Here is another notebook and pen. And, I would suggest including Mr Malfoy in our sessions; it will help him. And if you ever decided to take those steps you wish to take, don’t hesitate to contact me – I may be able to help, I am Slytherin!”

Severus agreed, taking the proffered book and Muggle pen. After seeing Whitney out of the Dungeons, he checked on Harry who had, thankfully, fallen asleep on the couch. He removed his glasses and the journal, placing them on the table, then went down the hall to the boys’ room to check on his other son. He found Draco hunched up on his bed, chin on his knees. He looked up as his godfather sat on the edge of the bed.

“Merlin, Uncle Sev – he raped him, didn’t he? That’s why he couldn’t go on. Not even my father is that depraved. How come Harry isn’t a catatonic mess? How can he be so… functioning… after all that?”

“That is one of the greatest mysteries of the wizarding world, Draco. How does that child survive the things he does, and still be intact? Are you still jealous of him?”

“No, far from it.” He shook his head vigorously, dislodging a few well-placed locks of hair. “I don’t think I could ever survive his life.”

“I’m glad to hear that. However, he wouldn’t want your pity, either. I think, though, he might like your friendship. He could use a friend in Slytherin,” he suggested, rubbing a hand along the boy’s back. “I think there may be many problems when his friends find out our secret next week,” he admitted.

“You can’t restore the charm?” his godson asked curiously.

“No, my wife was too clever; only she knew how to apply the charm. Besides Harry and I don’t want to hide this. But we felt that September first was soon enough to reveal it.”

“We’ve been getting along this week, not too many fights,” the blond pointed out.

“And I, and my sanity, appreciate it, I assure you. However, was the pillow fight necessary? I’m still finding feathers in the unlikeliest of places!”

Draco grinned at that. He and Harry had started the fight when Draco had thrown a pillow at Harry after his roommate had made a snide comment concerning Draco’s insistence on good grooming. Harry had thrown it back, hitting Draco square in the face. Before either of them knew it, they were pummelling each other in the centre of the room, while calling each other names; laughing hysterically as the names got ruder and more inventive by the minute, and feathers were flying everywhere.

Severus had stormed in, only to get caught in the stomach by both pillows, which split open further, showering the man in thousands of goose feathers. The boys had ended up rolling on the floor and laughing at the sight until Severus had dumped a bucket of cold water over each of them and made them clean up the resultant soggy mess, without magic.

They had each spent the next afternoon preparing the most disgusting potions ingredients, but they still had grinned at each other as they remembered the fun they’d had.

Severus chuckled at the grin on Draco’s face and stood up. “Are you going to be all right for now?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Very well. Harry is napping on the couch, why don’t you finish your essays before dinner and I can forward yours and Harry’s to the other teachers at the staff meeting? Oh, and Mr McDonald has suggested you do as Harry will be doing, and keep a journal. It is totally private – for your eyes only,” he said, holding out the book.

The boy nodded, taking the book and pen and, unfolding himself, headed to his desk.

Severus Snape billowed into the staff room, sneer firmly in place, for the last of the staff meetings before the children arrived that evening. The castle was polished top to bottom, his base potions were all prepared for his classes, Poppy was stocked for the fall term, and he had his curriculum all prepared.

The boys had survived their nearly two weeks together without too many disagreements, although he was still finding feathers in odd places… How one had managed to float all the way into his bathroom still boggled his mind.

He shook his head to himself as he went to the sideboard to prepare a cup of strong black coffee. He’d already had two cups at breakfast this morning, but it had the feeling of a possible five-cup day.

He was the first to arrive, but Minerva and Filius soon joined him, with the rest trailing in after them. Sybil sort of wafted in on her own paisley cloud, humming gently to herself and fingering a well-worn deck of Tarot cards. Dumbledore finally arrived, sitting at the head of the table and calling the meeting to order.

“I believe everyone is here; for the teachers who weren’t at the last meeting earlier this week, I’ll introduce our new Defence teacher, Professor Lockhart.” The man, in a set of frilly, green, silk robes, stood up and bowed to the room at large, his teeth shining in all their glory. Snape just rolled his eyes at Minerva who sat across from him. She pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything.

“Yes, welcome professor. Now onto the various department reports…” Severus attempted to stay awake as the department heads gave their ‘everything is ready for the students’ speeches, including his own.

“Now for those of you returning late, we have a change in the student body. Severus would you explain?”

Snape snorted to himself as he straightened in his leather-padded chair. “At the end of July it was necessary to remove Mr Potter from his relatives house for his own safety. As I’m sure you have all read in the paper, the house was burnt to the ground by Death Eaters after the Dursleys were taken into custody.” Murmurs and nodding heads met his explanation.

He continued on, “Mr Potter has been staying with me for the month, and during that time it was discovered that he was my biological son.” He twisted his upper lip, and raised his eyebrows as the protests started. He let it go on for a few moments before talking over them all. “Lily was my wife before she married Potter – which was done primarily for safety reasons. Harry was conceived prior to their wedding – a good two months prior, if you must be so nosy. He is my son! All I ask is that you respect his wishes and refer to him as Potter-Snape.”

“Thank you, my boy. We will all respect your, and Harry’s, wishes in this matter. I must also point out, to those of you who have Mr Potter-Snape in their classes, that while the majority of the student body won’t really care who his father is, the genetic changes will be obvious to everyone and there will be some who will attempt to cause trouble for the boy. Please be alert. Now that’s taken care, let’s move on to the next agenda item: Mr Filch’s list of banned products…”

Severus leaned back in his chair with a mental groan, prepared for the meeting to last until lunchtime.

***

“Sir? You’re certain?” Harry asked that afternoon as he viewed the potions receipt in front of him.

“Yes, Harry, you are ready for this. We weren’t able to get to this potion last term so it is the perfect test of your abilities after your tutelage this month. I will be in my office; you have two hours to brew, starting… now.” He watched as his son carefully read the instructions and set out the implements he would need, pouring the purified water into the pewter cauldron and setting it to simmer as he walked over to the student stores to get out the few ingredients that were not in his own kit. Draco looked up from his bench where he was working on a potions project of his own, but soon his head was back down, concentrating.

Severus nodded to himself in satisfaction and, with one last look at his sons, swirled away to his office, leaving the door cracked open. What Harry didn’t know was that Severus had given him a fourth-year potion, just to see if his son’s abilities had blossomed as much as he thought they had.

Harry brought back his ingredients to his bench and laid them out in order, starting in on the milkweed pods. He pulled out five of the delicate, lacy seeds, being careful not to breathe on them, and placed them one by one, in a star pattern, into the gently boiling water of his cauldron. He set the pod aside and took a look at the next instruction.

Two hours later, Severus came out of his office and advanced on his son, raising an eyebrow in satisfaction as he noticed the clean desk and the cauldron now sitting on the surface, cooling. He took his own glass rod out of his sleeve and peered into the cauldron.

Harry had stepped back from the desk with a satisfied look on his face; as far as he could tell, the potion was absolutely correct. Draco came and stood beside him, his own project finished a while ago, lending him moral support. The boys watched as the professor stirred the contents and eyed the potion dripping off the end of the rod.

“Well?” Harry ventured to ask.

“Hmm….” Severus looked a bit startled. “I’m sorry, son. It’s well made, Harry; one too many dingle claws – which is why the colour is a shade dark – but overall, well done. Now, how could you correct for your mistake, if you needed to?”

Harry racked his brain for a few moments as he thought about all the properties of the potion ingredients. “Another milkweed seed?” he posited. “I thought maybe the ones I pulled were a bit small…” He stopped as he noticed his father’s grin – or what passed as such for Severus, and Draco clapped him on the back, a little too forcefully, as the smaller boy lurched forward. But Harry recovered quickly and gave the other boy a grin.

“Very good, that is the solution exactly. Now, what do you think this potion does?” Harry had been annoyed a bit at that lapse on the parchment: no name and no description of properties. Now he knew this was part of the test and went over what he knew about the various ingredients and how they reacted with each other. His eyes grew bright as he grinned up at his teacher; sure that he had the answer.

“Dreamless Sleep?”

“Correct. Now take it over to the sideboard and bottle it up, then clean out your cauldrons and you two shall join me in our quarters for a hearty tea as we all missed lunch. By the way, just so you know, that was a fourth-year potion.” Severus patted Harry on the shoulders once, sniggering at the expression on his son’s face, and went back into his office, very satisfied with his son’s performance.

Harry heard the door to the secret corridor close and sighed with relief. He had passed. He had redone every single potion from first year to his father’s satisfaction - granted some of them had taken a few tries - and then he had done one more and had figured out what it was and how to correct it! And it had been a fourth-year potion! He had to admit he was starting to like the subject, but he wondered how it would be when it wasn’t just the three of them, and he had to share his dad with the rest of the class, and the Slytherin’s. He thought about this as he bottled his potion and cleaned out the cauldron, setting it upside down on the drain board to dry next to Draco’s.

“We’re all done, Severus,” he called out as the two entered their quarters. He was startled when he saw Mr Lupin standing in the sitting room talking with his father.

“Hullo, Harry. I see the changes are complete. Mr Malfoy,” Lupin acknowledged Draco’s presence as the Slytherin moved in front of Harry, but to one side – placing himself between Harry and Lupin; effectively guarding him and warily watching the other man.

“Hullo, Mr Lupin,” Harry said politely, but not venturing any closer. He tugged at his hair self-consciously, pushing it behind his ears – it had gotten quite long as it had flattened out over the last month. “Yeah, I look more like my father, now, I like it.”

Remus gave the boy a sad smile as he noticed his temerity, but turned back to Severus. “Thank you for your help, Severus, I’ll see you next month,” he said as he placed a large bottle in his jacket pocket.

“Just make sure you take all of it tonight. We don’t want any accidents.”

“Of course, Severus. I’ll just see myself out then. Good afternoon, Harry, Draco – I hope next term is a good one,” he said in a low, polite voice.

“Sir.” Harry replied, still staying on his side of the room, but managing to be polite. Draco stayed silent, arms crossed as he watched the older man leave the room.

Remus left quickly through the massive oak door and Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Severus noted this as the boys joined him at the table for tea, setting their potions kits on the floor next to their chairs.

“Has Lupin ever bothered you, Harry?” He would kill the wolf if he ever came near one of the boys inappropriately.

Harry reached for one of the small sandwiches on the plate in the centre of the table. “What? No, he just scares me a bit – I don’t know why. It’s not as if he reminds me of Uncle.” Harry cut his sandwich diagonally and began eating.

“Hmmpf,” Severus snorted. “A little healthy dose of wariness never hurt anyone. Listen to your gut – it can keep you out of trouble,” he advised both boys.

“Well, I don’t like him, he gives me the creeps,” announced Draco as he placed some crisps on his plate, and removed the crusts from his sandwich before picking up a tiny triangular section and started eating.

Harry nodded, agreeing with his friend and his father, his mouth full of cream cheese, cucumber and bread. He swallowed as he remembered a question he wanted to ask. “Is it okay for me to meet my friends at the station?”

He looked crestfallen when Severus shook his head. “Not this time, son. You’ll see them soon enough at feast. Have you warned them you’ll look different?”

Harry nodded his head. “I did, but I didn’t tell them why – although I bet Hermione’s already figured part of it out,” he said, proud of his friend’s intellect.

“I’m sure she has.” Snape replied dryly. He glanced at Harry’s empty plate and his eyes softened to a pleased look. “Well, done, Harry – you’ve finished an entire portion! How do you feel?”

“Good. Not over stuffed at all.”

“Madam Pomfrey will be pleased. You are still taking your potion? Good.” He tapped the table twice and the plates disappeared. “Time to go pack your trunks for tonight.” He halted when he noticed the look on Harry’s face. “What is it, son?”

“Are we going to go back to the way it was last year?” This was his biggest worry. He’d had such a wonderful month with his father, and then gaining Draco as a friend and pseudo-brother. Would they now have to forsake him for appearances sake?

Severus looked startled. “What? No, Harry we won’t. Come here, boys.” He led them over to the seating area near the floo and sat his son down on the divan, taking his favourite wingback and angling it closer to Harry’s so he could look eye to eye. Draco sat on the divan near Harry looking concerned as well. “What is troubling you?” Severus asked.

“Well, what is it going to be like now with everyone back? Is class going to be the same, you ridiculing my house and favouring the Slytherins? Is Draco going to go back to being my rival? Are people going to hate me now that I look like you?” And he really did now; Lupin’s predictions had come true. Harry had Snape’s hair, fingers and facial shape and he had his mother’s nose, and eyes. “And… and will I be allowed to come down here and see you? Will my room still be here…”

Snape placed a steadying hand on his son’s knee. “Slow down! No, I will not be treating the students the same as I did in the past – but I also can’t show you favouritism, you know that. However, I think you’ll find some changes you will like in my classroom.” Harry smiled shyly at that. He wondered if his friend, Neville, would improve if the pressure was relieved a bit.

“As for what people will say? Well, we’ll weather that together, all right? Yes, there are people who are not going to like the fact that we are related and that, in fact, I am your father, and it will be hard. I’m not going to pretend that it won’t be, it will be hard for both of us. I have many former associates whose children are in the school and will report back to their parents tonight that you look like me now.” He paused, gathering his thoughts and courage – Harry would have to face this as well. “And there will be people who will see you and suspect, and make innuendos, that your mother cheated on Potter with me. You will have to ignore them, Harry. After tonight, everyone will see the proof and we will have to tell the truth – but there will be many who won’t believe or won’t want to believe, and you can’t hex them on a whim! I’ll set you the most disgusting detentions if I find out you have! If someone vexes you about this, just come to me and we will talk it out, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded, with a slight grin on his face.

“Draco?” Severus turned towards his godson.

“You know, Harry, you can be a right prat at times. I could care less what my father wants me to do, or how he wants me to behave; I’m your friend, Potter-Snape, and I dare anyone to challenge me on that!” He mock-punched Harry in the arm, and Harry gave him a sheepish grin.

“Thanks, Draco. Are you going to be in danger from the Death Eaters?” Harry asked his father seriously.

“Probably – but that is for me to worry about, not you. Now, what good is a home when you can’t call it a home ten months out of a year? This is your home now, Harry. Your permanent room is here. You can leave anything you want here for safekeeping and no one will bother it. Were there things you wanted to leave here?”

Harry brightened up at this news and turned his happy face toward his father. “I… I wanted to store my first-year texts here, and Hagrid’s whistle and some other things…”

“Of course you can; that is your room, son, it will always be there for you – as will I. You can come down to visit me whenever you need to, that goes for you as well, Draco. I’ll keep the room in its current configuration for the two of you.”

“Thank you, Uncle Sev.”

Harry launched himself at his father, throwing his arms around the man who was startled beyond words. “I’m so glad I found out that you’re my dad!” he whispered into Severus’ ear causing the Potions master to tear up suddenly. He squeezed his son a little tighter then released him, giving him a small swat on his bottom to hurry him from the room. “I’m glad too, now go pack your trunk, brat – and don’t forget to take a shower and change into your school clothes and robes,” he said a bit more loudly as Harry rushed down the corridor, Draco hurrying after, calling dibs on the shower.

A faint “Only if you can beat me!” was heard drifting back to him from the long hallway. He grinned in spite of himself as he sat back in his chair and pulled a potions journal from the top of the stack onto his lap to read.

***

Harry stood in the Entry Hall waiting for the first carriages to make their way to the school. His trunk and broom had already been sent to his dorm in Gryffindor tower and he had changed into his school robes to greet his friends, back from the summer holidays. Draco was already in the Great Hall sitting at the Slytherin table. They both figured it wouldn’t be good to advertise their new friendship just yet. He stood off to the side of the large open doors, nervously tucking his long hair behind his ears, and pushing his glasses back upon his nose.

What would Ron and Hermione say when they saw him. What about Neville and the other boys in his dorm? He dreaded their remarks when they saw the changes that had come over him. He took a huge breath as the first carriages disgorged their passengers and the students began filing noisily into the castle and heading to the Great Hall to take their seats for the feast. Several people waved good-naturedly at him as they hurried past, and he gave them nods or small, one worded welcomes as they passed. But he was waiting for a certain group to appear. Eventually, he began to see heads of red hair making their way up the stairs and steeled himself.

“Hey, guys!” he said softly as the group approached him.

“Hey, Harry!” the twins said before they halted right in front of him, jaws dropping in astonishment, causing Ron to run into them from behind.

“You gits,” Ron started, but then his eyes got round as he saw the reason. “Harry, is that you?”

“Yeah, Ron, it’s me. Erm, you might want to move out of the way, mates, you’re blocking the entrance.” He led the group over to the side of the hall where they could get a better look. Neville and Hermione followed.

“Harry, what happened?” Neville squeaked.

“I found some things out this summer.”

“Like what?” George asked.

“Like the fact that Professor Snape is his real father, I suspect,” Hermione pointed out shrewdly. “Right, Harry?”

Harry blushed, but looked at her thankfully for pointing out the obvious. “You’re right, Hermione,” he said quietly.

Ron exploded, Neville paled, and Hermione punched Ron in the arm to shut him up, as the twins began plotting how to best use this new information to their advantage for playing pranks on the Slytherin’s. Percy hurried over to the group and shooed them into the hall – barely noticing the centre of their speculation.

“Hurry up, you lot, Sorting will be starting soon, we don’t want to miss Ginny!”

The group made their way into the hall and found seats at their table with Ron still muttering under his breath about how Harry had betrayed them by turning out to be Snape’s son, and throwing dark glances in Harry’s direction. Hermione sat between the boys and whispered to Harry not to worry while shooting glares in Ron’s direction.

But Harry couldn’t help but worry, the mutters had started as soon as he had entered the Hall and people could clearly see his face. His seat faced the Slytherin table and he could see Draco giving him a sympathetic look before looking at his head of house for a moment then began whispering to his tablemates. Soon, Harry could feel the eyes of the entire school staring at him and he buried his head in his arms to escape the scrutiny.

He could hear Ron muttering something about how Harry was obviously sitting at the wrong table and was terrified to hear Seamus and Dean agreeing with him. His heart fell to his feet at that point and he felt dizzy with worry. It hurt so much to have Ron feel this way about him, even after he had warned him about the changes. Was the boy truly his friend? Had he ever been? He knew the hat had wanted him in Slytherin from the first place, and now he knew why. Could Ron be right? He felt tears prickling his eyes and felt he had to leave before he broke down in the hall. He apologized gruffly to Hermione and with a quick glance at the Head Table, ran from the hall just as the first-years filed in after McGonagall.

Harry heard a rebuking “Mr Potter-Snape!” come from his head’s mouth, and the buzz in the room rose to a feverish pitch as her statement all but verified the speculation, but he ignored it. He just had to get away from all the accusatory stares. He didn’t want to go to the tower, and he didn’t want to run whinging to his father, so he ran up the steps to the Owlery instead, seeking solace from his one true companion. Hedwig didn’t care who he resembled, or did not resemble; she loved him for himself.

***

Severus watched from the teacher’s table as the students began filing into the hall, keeping an eye out for his son. He finally spotted the boy among the sea of redheads – although the youngest Weasley appeared to be shunning Harry, and had the look of curdled milk on his face. As Harry was revealed to the rest of the hall, Severus could see the whispers begin and spread, like a wave, around the room. All heads turned, at one point or another, look first at Harry and then at him. He made sure all emotion was erased from his features as he glared at the brats.

At one point Harry buried his head in his arms and Severus could see him stiffen, probably at some remark made over his head. Finally, the boy had enough and Harry bolted from the table, nearly running Minerva down in his haste to get out of the Hall. This just fuelled the whispers further, when McGonagall rebuked him, until Minerva used a silencing spell on the entire hall. She lifted the spell when she was satisfied she had everyone’s attention and got the sorting underway. No one saw Draco slip away from the Slytherin table and through a side door, except Severus.

Severus stayed where he was – Harry needed some time alone to settle down, and hopefully his godson would be able to help his son, but as soon as the sorting was over, he stalked over to the Gryffindor table.

“Weasleys – not you Miss Weasley, just your brothers - Thomas, Finnegan, Granger and Longbottom – follow me,” he said in a voice that brooked no nonsense.

“But, sir,” the know-it-all started. “The feast…” Her eyes indicated the mountains of food that had just appeared along the long house tables.

“Now, Miss Granger – or do you want to be the cause of Gryffindor starting the year off in negative points?” He smirked in satisfaction as the girl wisely shut up and followed the redheads and the boys from Harry’s dorm.

***

Draco slipped away from the table while the confusion caused by Harry’s abrupt departure swept through the school. He made his way silently to a door, hidden in one of the wood panels of the wall, and quickly took the hallway beyond to the main hallway. Now where would Harry go? He quickly dismissed the dungeons and the Gryffindor hallways and settled on the Owlery as his first place to try. If his friend wasn’t there, he’d be at the pitch – and he’d be able to see that fact from the tall tower. He turned to take the appropriate staircase and raced his way up the levels until he reached the tower that held the post owls. He slowed his pace as he ascended the narrow stone treads and held his breath as he approached the doorway. A stray step on a fumet, which crunched beneath his shoe, alerted the other boy to his presence.

Harry quickly dashed the tears from his face and turned around to see a blurry Draco. He put his glasses back on and looked at his friend. “Hey,” he quietly said.

“Hey. Gryffindors being prats?”

“For the most part – Ron especially. The twins think it’s a lark, and Hermione’s all right with it. But Ron…” he shook his head; just thinking about Ron’s reaction caused a huge lump to form in his throat, and the tears threatened to fall again.

Draco bit his tongue to keep from letting a snide comment out. He knew Harry considered Ron his closest mate, and had been worried about his reaction to the news.

“Look, Snape, if he can’t see past your father, then he’s not worth having as a friend. You’ve managed to look past my chequered past – if you can, he can. It may just take him awhile to come ‘round.”

“Yeah, probably not in this lifetime,” sneered the Gryffindor, looking very much like his father.

“Well, if he doesn’t, you’ve got me!” Draco puffed out his chest in mock stuffiness. Harry gave him a watery half-smile, but turned to look back out over the darkening countryside.

Draco walked over and slung an arm around the other boy in companionship and stood next to him, lending silent support. Harry leaned his head on the other boys shoulder and sighed. Draco looked down, surprised at the good feeling he got with Harry under his arm like this, wondering what it meant, but decided to just enjoy giving his friend support.

Severus led the troop of Gryffindors to a little used anteroom off the entryway. Conjuring hard wooden chairs for all of them, he took his seat behind the small desk, hair falling forward and casting his stern face in shadow, so that only his black eyes shone. He knew he’d set the stage correctly when he saw several of them shiver involuntarily.

“I want to know, right now, what was being said that caused Potter-Snape to leave the table. Not from you, Granger, I believe Mr Weasley needs to speak up. Well, Mr Weasley?” He directed his iron gaze at Ron.

Ron mumbled something under his breath that caused Hermione to scoot her chair away from him and gasp in horror.

“I don’t think I caught that?” Snape prodded, his voice low and threatening.

“I said, sir, that Harry should’ve been sitting in Slytherin since it’s obvious he is one.”

“I see. And who agreed with you? Mr Thomas, Mr Finnegan?” The boys in question coloured up, but didn’t say anything. “And what are your opinions, Percival, Frederick and George; do you feel Harry should now be resorted as well?”

“No, sir!” Fred looked at his twin for verification. “We think it is brilliant! We’re guessing that Hermione was right and you’re really Harry’s dad?”

“I am. It occurred in an above board fashion, but I was unaware of it until this summer. Lily and I were married before she married Potter. She kept Harry’s true conception a secret from everyone.”

“Excellent!” George exclaimed.

“Why didn’t Harry tell us?” Ron whinged.

“Honestly, Ronald, you are such an ignoramus sometimes,” Hermione exclaimed, before Snape could even open his mouth, working herself into lecture mode as she faced her friend. “Because he didn’t know until Professor Snape did; and because if that information got out, he would’ve been in danger. I’m sure they have safeguards in place now.” She looked at her professor for confirmation and received a slight bemused nod in response. Really, she was on a roll and he wasn’t going to interrupt a good tirade – her's was much better than the one he had prepared. “He couldn’t send information out like that with an owl!” the irate girl continued. “What if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s supporters got hold of it? He would’ve been in more danger than he is now!

“Do you guys honestly believe Harry is any different as a person just because he looks different? He’s the same person we became friends with last term – he just has a real father now! And I say, it’s about time! Congratulations on becoming a father, sir!” Severus gave her a small nod in thanks as she crossed her arms with a small snort, glaring at her year-mates and receiving sheepish looks in reply. Now Snape knew why she had been sorted into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.

Ron had turned as bright red as his hair but still didn’t say anything. He ignored looking at Granger, and Severus could tell that Hermione’s lecture had fallen on deaf ears. He felt that the friendship would be sorely tested over the next few days, but that he’d staved off disaster in the long run with the others. He really didn’t want to take Harry out of school, he felt that the boy needed his friends – he was very much a Gryffindor in that regard. He sent the students back to the Great Hall to get some food except for Longbottom and Granger.

The two of them stood before the little desk, the chairs having been vanished with a mere swipe of the professor’s wand.

“Mr Longbottom, we are going to try something different this year.”

“S-s-sir?” The child visibly paled as he stammered.

“I have been told, repeatedly, by Professor Sprout that you are a genius in Herbology. With all of that intellect, surely you can do better in my class – where all of those plants are used? You obviously know their magical properties – your essays for her class demonstrate that admirably. However, you and I seem to be at odds with each other in the classroom. Therefore, we are going to arrange extra tutoring sessions for you and you will be partnered permanently for this term with Miss Granger.”

The boy looked stunned. “Who will be tutoring me, sir?”

“Someone other than me,” he stated pointedly, and the boy seemed to relax a measure. “I will find you a suitable Ravenclaw and you will adhere to their lessons. I expect to see improvement from you, Mr Longbottom. You have the potential – use it!”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!” Neville appeared to like the new arrangement, as he actually offered up a shy smile to his feared professor. He dismissed the two students and decided to look for his son.

He eventually found him, leaning on Draco in the Owlery, looking out over the grounds and absently stroking his owl.

“Harry?” he asked cautiously.

“Hey, Severus.”  Harry glanced over at his father for a second then settled his gaze back on the grounds, watching as the first stars twinkled in the sky and a bright full moon was peeking over the top of the forest. A howl in the distance sent a shiver down the two Slytherin’s spines, but Severus ignored his own reaction.

Draco gave Severus a look then murmured to Harry that he was heading back to the feast. Severus stopped Draco, as he moved past his godfather, and gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze in gratitude before sending him on his way. He was glad that at least these two were getting along. Severus moved to stand beside Harry and when Snape put an arm around Harry’s shoulders, he was gratified to have his son lean into the comfort, instead of an initial flinch, as he was wont to do. They had come a long way this last month.

“What happened after I left?” Harry eventually asked.

“Not much; sorting, food, announcements, me having a talk with your dorm-mates.” Harry looked startled at this bit of news then groaned.

“You didn’t take points, did you?”

Severus smirked. “No, I didn’t take points, although I was sorely tempted. No, I can’t deduct points for people’s opinions; but I did have a long talk with them about their attitudes. Miss Granger was quite vocal in her chastisement of them. I felt positively superfluous!”

Harry chuckled in spite of himself, “That’s Hermione!” Then his face darkened in thought and he voiced his concern to his father. “Is Ron ever going to come around?”

“Are you sure you want him too?” Severus asked gently.

“Yeah, I still consider him my friend – even if he is being an idiot. But I’m not sure if he wants to be.”

Severus sighed as he considered his son’s problem. “I’m not sure if I can give you any good advice; I was never one to cultivate friends. Acquaintances, yes – but friends? Never deliberately. If he is truly your friend, Harry, he will eventually learn to accept your situation. As to how long that will take – I can’t say. Weasley’s tend to be volatile when ired, but they will defend those they consider their own to their last dying breath. So you may have a short wait, or a long one. Are you willing to wait if it takes a while?”

Harry nodded his head. “But it will be hard…”

“Indeed,” Severus sympathized, then he changed the subject. “I also am arranging for Longbottom to be tutored by an older NEWT student, as we spoke about. Hopefully he will gain confidence from this arrangement.  Now, are you ready to come back down? It’s starting to get a bit cool up here.” Severus gave a false shiver that brought a slight grin to Harry’s face.

“Yeah, I guess. I really don’t want to go to my tower, though,” he said a bit more seriously.

“I understand, but you’re going to have to face them sometime – it’s better if you get it over with quickly. Like ripping a plaster off of a scab.” He gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before releasing it as they started down the circular staircase that wound down through the tower back to the main part of the school.

“I saw the Slytherins, sir,” Harry began a few moments later. “They did not look happy at the news. Is Draco gonna be alright?”

“No, I would say they weren’t,” his father agreed. “And Draco will be fine. He was born to be Slytherin, that one; he will stay safe – he knows exactly what to say and how to say it. However, he will never betray a friend, or a brother, and that is how he considers you now.”

Harry smiled at this. “I think I consider him in the same way, even though it’s only been a couple of weeks. But he knows things even Hermione and Ron don’t know.”

“And he will keep that trust, Harry.” Harry pondered this as they continued down the circular staircase that curved along the inside of the tower. He worried at his lip with his teeth as he considered his next question. Severus knew the boy wanted to ask something, but he waited patiently.

“I’m worried for you in the dungeons, sir,” Harry finally blurted out.

“I can handle myself, Harry,” he reassured. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to worry about my snakes attacking me. I have my ways of protecting myself from their machinations. Now, do you have your Portkey with you?” he asked.

“Yes, Severus. I keep it on its chain at all times.” Severus had taken the precaution of the Portkey for Harry in case hostile students backed him into a corner. It deposited him straight into his bedroom in Snape’s quarters and set off an alarm to notify Severus of its activation. Severus had also taken the time in the last week to teach both boys some simple, but effective, hexes - only to be used in the direst of circumstances.

“Good. All right, I’ll walk you back to your dorm; everyone should be coming up soon. Do you want me to send anything up for you to eat?”

“No, sir, I’ll be fine. I’m not that hungry anyway.” Harry looked at him gratefully as they headed down the seventh floor corridor to the entrance to the Gryffindor tower.

***

Harry took a deep breath before stepping through the portrait and heading into the common room. As he expected and dreaded, all conversation ceased. Ron took one look at him, turned bright red, and set off for the stairs with a disgusted look on his face. That seemed to be the signal for everyone to resume their activities and the murmurs gradually increased to normal levels. Harry found Hermione at her customary study nook with a young redhead sitting near her with Fred and George hovering nearby.

“Hey, Harry!” George welcomed him. “Have you met our sister yet? This is Ginny, she made it into Gryffindor!” the big brother said proudly.

“Hullo,” Harry said, friendly enough, and he gave the younger girl a little smile. She squeaked, however, and her eyes grew round as she blushed furiously. She hastily got up from her seat, nearly overturning it, and rushed up the stairs toward the girl’s dormitories.

“Harry, you smooth talker! You have such a way with the ladies!” Fred said while laughing.

“Yeah, mate, you really ought to patent that approach!” George chimed in.

“Oh, stop it you two!” Hermione chided – but she was failing miserably at holding in her snickers. “Harry, don’t worry; Ginny is just in awe of you. You know, ‘The Boy Who Lived’ legend.”

“Oh,” he said, a bit deflated.

“Yeah, Harry, she’s had a crush on you since she was little.” George – or was it Fred – explained.

“Drove us nuts!” agreed the other twin. “Well, we’re off – have some planning to do!” The twins saluted the two second-years and went off to the other side of the room where their friend, Lee Jordan, was sitting and chatting up Angelina Johnson.

Hermione made room for Harry and he gratefully sat down next to her, heaving a huge sigh.

“I’m sorry about Ronald,” Hermione started.

“Don’t, Hermione. Don’t apologise for him. I pretty much expected it – it just hurts, you know?”

She did know and she nodded her head in sympathy. “How was it this summer? With your Dad, I mean,” she asked quietly.

Harry smiled. “Not bad, actually. He’s pretty strict – but you’d expect that. Won’t let me swear at all around him, washed my mouth out with soap once. But he was also – understanding – about what it was like with the Dursley’s. I’m pretty sure he was the one who let the word leak out about them abusing me, and everything. And when the changes started happening, I found out I really liked to study. He had me redoing all the potions from last year, and then had me brew Dreamless Sleep this afternoon.”

“Dreamless Sleep? But Harry that’s…” Her eyes were wide in wonder.

“Fourth-year; yeah, I know. And I did it perfectly,” he related.

“So, all your essays?” she enquired incredulously.

“Done, turned in and already marked. The joys of having a professor for a father, and living in Hogwarts for the last month. Academics were nearly the number one priority.”
The two young lions sat comfortably in silence as the common room started to empty. Neville came over though and sat across from them at the table.

“Hey, Harry. I wanted to tell you what Professor Snape is doing for me…”

“Teaming you up with Hermione and getting you a tutor? Yeah, he told me. I think it’s brilliant, Nev,” Harry said sincerely.

“I hope so. He just really scares me, but my Gran really expects me to do well… keeps quoting my dad’s marks at me.”

“I think you’ll do fine, Neville,” Hermione said. “Just listen to me in class and I will lead you through it.”

“Yeah I can give you help, too; especially after this summer. But I won’t be able to in class. He’s already told me he’s pairing me up with Malfoy.”

“Why?” Hermione asked.

Harry was prepared for this question; he had wanted to ease his friends into gradually accepting that he and Draco had ceased hostilities, and he and his brother had easily come up with a clever explanation. “Severus wants us to get to ‘know’ each other better. We’re god-brothers,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Neville sympathised.

“Thanks, Neville – so am I,” he easily lied. “But really, he wasn’t that bad. Yeah, surprising, huh?” he said at Neville’s spurious glance.

“If you say so, Harry,” his friend said.

They decided at that point to head up to the dorms, their three dorm mates had already gone up a while before and Harry was hoping they were asleep by now. They said a sleepy goodnight to Hermione as they went separate ways at the top of the stairs, and climbed to their floor – grinning to each other at the sign “Second-years” posted on their doorway.

Harry was not surprised to find the other three snoring, or at least feigning sleep, but he was ticked off when he found his bed had been treated. The smell hit them as they had opened the door.

“Very funny!” he murmured, and could swear he heard a giggle from Seamus’ side of the room. Neville made a face at the acrid smell.

 Harry sighed and stripped his bed, dumping the dampened sheets, comforter and pillow into the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. It disappeared as soon as the lid closed. He wished he knew a charm to dry the mattress and get rid of the ammonia smell as well, but he didn’t; he’d have to let the elves handle it. He’d learnt about the elves while living with Severus – but he’d yet to spot one.

He returned to the dorm room, gathered up his pyjamas and headed out the door, back to the common room. He had reason to know that the sofa was comfortable to sleep on, and it looked like he was going to be spending several nights there. He made sure to lock his trunk magically before he left. No need to leave temptation behind.

Neville gave him an apologetic shrug as Harry whispered goodnight and shut the door behind him.

The next week was pretty tough for Harry. Ron still was not talking to him, and went out of his way to avoid Harry, taking seats far away from him in classes and making sure they were never alone in the same room. If they did get caught near each other, Ron would look at Harry as if he was something Ron had stepped in, and move away as quickly as possible – sometimes leaving a choice comment behind. Hermione was almost smothering in her concern for him, until Harry finally asked her to back off. She had given him a pitying look, but had toned down her lectures.

Draco kept his distance during classes, but he no longer sneered at Harry, and didn’t try to mess up his assignments. On rare occasions they were able to meet and talk, usually in the Owlery, or sometimes in a deserted classroom. In potions, Severus had used the excuse of mixing the class together to assign the boys to a bench with each other, and they appreciated it. Unfortunately, Ron could tell that the two were getting along better than normal, and it just fuelled his assumption that Harry needed to leave Gryffindor tower and go live with the snakes.

Harry was constantly fielding questions, and ignoring the rumours going around about his origins. The hardest to ignore were the Slytherins, who tried repeatedly to hex him in the corridors. Nott was the worst, although Flint – who was repeating his sixth year – came close. Harry had used his Portkey - oddly enough, a little gold key on a chain - twice already, just to escape ambushes. He was so grateful when the weekend came around and he could escape to his father’s quarters for two days. He headed there straight after potions class was over, waving off his friends.

“Harry, I don’t mind you staying here on the weekends, but you shouldn’t use me to hide from your classmates,” his father said at dinner that evening.

“I know, Severus, but this week has been so rough, I just needed some breathing room.”

“Are your dorm-mates still giving you problems?”

“Ron still is. Neville has been great, and Dean and Seamus don’t seem to care one way or another – they aren’t entirely pleased, but they aren’t hexing me over it either, unlike the Slytherins.” Harry stirred his potion into his goblet and took a sip. He didn’t feel like revealing the fact of the treated sheets three nights in a row, forcing him to sleep in the common room on the sofa. Besides, it had been dealt with – why bring it up?

Neville and Harry had finally taken care of the problem when they couldn’t stand the stench anymore: they had drunk two full litres of water each, and held it in until right before dinner break, then paid the three back. They felt it was well worth a fourth night of stench and he and Harry had ended up with the room all to themselves that night. The laughter from the twins the next morning, after spotting the three coming up the stairs in their nightclothes, was well worth it. He groaned as he heard a knock at the door and Severus went to answer it.

“By Slytherins, whom do you mean?” his father asked pointedly as he let Draco into the room. Harry gave his brother a smile as the blond sat at the table with a sigh.

“Nott, Flint, Zabini and some others,” replied Draco for his brother. “What? I assumed you were talking about the attacks on Harry here,” he said as he served himself some roasted herbed chicken and steamed vegetables.

Harry chuckled at Draco and picked up the explanation as his father served him the dinner. “Its getting to the point where it seems like I can’t go anywhere without one of them showing up and trying to either injure me or say nasty things about you and mum.” Harry pointed out.

“We did talk about this happening, son. Do I need to interfere?” Snape asked.

“No, that will only make things worse. I can handle it, for now; it’s mostly annoying.” Severus nodded in acknowledgement of his son’s feelings, but vowed to himself he would keep a closer eye on him. “Besides, Draco and I tend to share most classes together, except Herbology, and he’s been good at manipulating the others to stay away – but there’s always a random attack.”

Severus accepted this and decided to change the subject. “We need to discuss the trial next week. Poppy and I will both be there with you,” he assured when he noticed the colour draining from Harry’s face. Draco reached over and laid a hand on Harry’s arm in sympathy. He didn’t think he could face Lucius across a courtroom and testify to the man’s abuse of him. Another difference between himself and the boy he considered a brother.

“I understand. What day?” Harry said, his eyes cast down on his plate, not even seeing the food in front of him.

“It starts on Monday. You’ve already been excused from classes for the duration, but each of your teachers will be giving you make-up essays to complete while you miss the practicals. You can stay here until the trial is over, if you wish,” Severus offered. Harry nodded his thanks, but picked at his food, shoving it around his plate with his fork, never really eating.

“May I be excused? I’m not really hungry and I want to get started on my homework,” Harry asked a moment later, his eyes haunted with the remembered pain that would be brought up in a few day’s time.

“Of course. You can borrow the table here, if you wish.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just study at my desk. Good night, Severus, Draco.” Harry headed down the hallway to his room, his steps slow and pensive.

“Good night, son,” Severus murmured. He watched pensively as his son walked the short distance to his room, gently shutting the door behind him. He knew the news was one that Harry had dreaded. They had spoken about the prospect of this trial several times over the last month, and Snape knew that Harry was frightened over the thoughts of meeting his family in a courtroom. In a bit of Muggle-wizard cooperation, the family had been remanded to the wizarding court, as the minor involved was a wizard.

Severus cleared the table, shaking his head at the little that Harry had eaten, and settled in front of the fire with a good novel, that he had started the evening before and was about halfway through, and a glass of fine wine. Draco settled in the divan to read a Quidditch magazine, knowing Harry wouldn’t want to talk to him either. He was slowly learning his god-brother’s moods, and this was one he knew he could not penetrate. Two hours later, Severus put down the finished book, finished off his glass of wine and headed down the corridor to check on his son. He knocked on the door, and not receiving an answer, pushed it open.

“Harry…” he stopped and chuckled to himself when he noticed the boy curled up on the duvet, glasses askew, transfiguration text flipped open and a parchment full of scrawled notes next to him. Draco came up behind him and also snickered behind his hand before moving further into the room and, grabbing some nightclothes from his wardrobe, disappeared into the bathroom.

Severus placed the book and notes on the desk, took Harry’s glasses off and placed them on the nightstand then gently woke his son up so the boy could get ready for bed. Harry yawned tiredly, but stumbled into the loo to change while Severus folded back the linens. Harry was just making his way out of the bathroom when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Did you hear that?” he asked quietly.

“Hear what?” Draco asked, coming out of the bathroom behind him.

“Someone just said something about ‘rip, tear, kill’.”

“Are you certain? Maybe you were still dreaming…” Severus pointed out.

Harry shook his head, “No, sir, I’m wide awake now. You didn’t hear it?” he asked both of them. When Severus shook his head again, Harry looked perplexed, “But it was clear as day to me.” They were all startled when they heard the whoosh of the floo in the next room and they hurried to the parlour to see who it was.

“Severus, we need you on the second floor, quickly!” called Professor McGonagall and in the next instant she was gone.

Snape turned to his sons, “Stay here boys, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He headed for the portrait that connected to his office – it matched the one at the other end of the short corridor. The boys followed him into the main room.

“Sir, do you think this could have something to do with that voice I heard?”

“I don’t know, Harry…”

“You heard it too, young speaker?” Salazar interrupted. This stopped Severus in his track. Harry hurried up to the portrait. Draco stood at the entrance to the hallway with his arms crossed and watching the play by play like a Muggle tennis match.

“Yes, you did too?” Harry asked excitedly.

“Of course, it was in Parseltongue!” Salazar stated. “Sssthor and Sssthan could hear it, as well.”

Severus huffed at the situation. “We will discuss this when I get back, I’m needed on the second floor. Boys, I mean it – stay here!” he said sternly.

“Yes, sir,” Harry agreed. He had no intention of getting close to a snake that was talking about killing something.

Severus gave him a look meant to pin the boy in place and with a swirl of his robes was heading down the short corridor to his office to collect his travelling potions bag, and thence to the second floor.

“So, Harry, did I understand that conversation you were having with our illustrious founder correctly,” Draco drawled as he came over to sit near Harry on the divan. “You’re a Parselmouth?”

“Apparently.” Harry shrugged.

“You talk to snakes… you’re not even a Slytherin!” the blonde exploded. “Merlin’s beard, what I would give for that ability!”

“Well, that’s not quite true, you know…” Harry hedged.

“What’s not true?”

“About not being a Slytherin; the hat originally wanted to put me there.” He snuck a look at the boy next to him. “But see, I had met you then, and you had been such a prat – first in the robe store, and then on the train… well, and I knew Voldemort had been in Slytherin… so I kept saying ‘not Slytherin’ over and over until he finally put me in Gryffindor. I think it was a better fit, anyhow,” he concluded.

“Not with the way they’ve been treating you lately!” Draco retorted. Harry just shrugged and settled back into the cushions to await his father’s return.

***

An hour later, Severus returned to his rooms to find Harry curled up on one of the wing back chairs with his duvet wrapped around him, reading one of his supplementary potions texts. Draco had apparently gone back to bed.

Severus walked over and eased himself down in the other chair, as Harry straightened up to face him.

“What happened?” the boy asked.

”Well, I think I know what Lucius’ plan involved; how he is accomplishing it, is another matter entirely. When I got to the second floor, there was water all over the floor, Mrs Norris was hanging from a torch bracket by a knot in her tail and on the wall was written ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.’”

“Was she dead?” Harry asked in an excited whisper, half hoping and half dreading. That cat was the bane of every student.

“No, although Filch was absolutely convinced she was dead – until Albus pointed out she was petrified. That idiot of a DADA teacher kept spouting off as to how he knew right off she wasn’t dead, and could cure her in a trice. Dumbledore pointed out, however, that only Mandrake Draught could cure her. Luckily Professor Sprout has a good crop of mandrakes growing.”

Harry agreed. “We just started studying them this week – had to re-pot some babies. ‘Enemies of the heir?’ Heir of what, and what is the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked, leaning forward in excitement.

“My heir,” came a reply from the other side of the room before Severus could reply.

“Yours?” Severus asked. The two Snapes looked at each other and, as one, got up to move over to the portrait, Harry dropping the duvet on the floor in his haste.

“Explain, Salazar,” Snape demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest, giving the portrait his best stare. The ancient wizard actually looked sheepish before attempting to answer.

“Before I left the school, I had created a chamber deep in the bowels of the castle where I stored many of my magical artefacts. You have to understand that many of these were quite dangerous and I did not want them to land in students’ hands, much less enemies of the school. To guard these items, I had set a dangerous creature. She was not supposed to roam the castle, only the chamber and the tunnels adjacent to it. The rumour was set about that only those of my bloodline could open the chamber. This is ridiculous, you only need to be a Parselmouth – but those are quite rare, so the chamber, I felt, was safe from intrusion.”

“Salazar,” asked Snape dangerously, “what is the creature in the chamber?” Although he felt that he probably already knew the answer.

“A Basilisk,” came the smug answer.

“Merlin’s beard!” Snape exploded. “And now it is loose?” Severus began pacing before striding over to the fireplace and throwing in some floo powder. “Albus, get down here now!” he yelled. A moment later the floo fire turned green again and Dumbledore came into the room.

“What’s the matter Severus? Hullo, Harry.” Harry gave the Headmaster a quick nod.

“Did you know, sir, that the Chamber of Secrets is real, and that what petrified Mrs Norris was a Basilisk?” Snape blustered to his mentor.

“A Basilisk, you say? Well, that clears up some matters.” Harry noticed the old man did not mention the Chamber. He narrowed his eyes in contemplation.

“Sir, this is obviously what Lucius was plotting about this summer,” Severus felt compelled to point out.

“Oh, I’m positive it is, although I’m at a loss as to how to combat it at the moment. Has Draco said anything about what Lucius is plotting? No? Pity. For instance the rumour spreading around the corridors is that Harry, here, must have opened the chamber as they noticed he was the only student missing.”

“Harry? He’s been here since after potions ended. In fact he heard the Basilisk. And he was not the only student missing: Draco was here as well!”

Albus perked up at this, sending a quick glance to Harry’s scar that Harry missed, but Severus did not. “Really, Harry? You’re a Parselmouth? How extraordinary. That is a very rare talent to have, indeed.” He turned back to Severus. “We need to discover who opened the chamber and how. We can keep closing it back up with Harry’s help here, once we find it, but the person responsible for tonight’s actions will only keep opening it, until they get what they want. We will need to be more vigilant in our wanderings of the castle. I’ll call a staff meeting for the morning. I don’t think we need to alarm the students just yet. For now, the students are confined to their dormitories for the rest of the evening. If that is all? Good evening, then.” He stepped back into the floo before anyone could gainsay him.

Snape huffed to himself in agitation. Sometimes he wanted to wring his mentor’s neck.

“I’m sorry Severus, Gertrude was supposed to stay hidden,” Salazar said, contritely. “You know, this is the second time this century that the chamber has been opened,” he mused.

“The second? When was the first?” Severus demanded.

“Fifty years ago. A girl died that time, and then the attacks stopped. I never knew who opened up the chamber then, and the castle has changed so much, I have no clue as to where the entrance is anymore.”

“Fifty years ago… wasn’t that when Hagrid was expelled?” Severus murmured to himself. He had forgotten Harry was still standing there.

“Hagrid was expelled? Was that when his wand was broken?” Harry asked as his father steered him back towards his bedroom, giving him a scathing look when he noticed the duvet on the floor. Harry hurried over to gather it up, along with his book, and joined his father back in the hallway.

“From what I remember of the story, yes. Why don’t we pay a visit to him tomorrow?”

“Sure!”

They reached Harry’s room and Harry climbed into bed as Severus settled the covers over him, tucking him in.

“Goodnight, Harry,” he said as he brushed his hand over his son’s head, noticing the boy was already half asleep.

“ ‘Night… dad…” Harry murmured as he rolled over, his breath even and quiet as he fell asleep completely.

***

After breakfast in Severus’ rooms, the three donned light capes and headed to Hagrid’s hut down the hill. Harry and Draco ran all the way with Severus following more sedately after them. He secretly enjoyed watching the boys act like the twelve-year olds they were; chasing each other, whooping as they jumped off of the small boulders that littered the hillside. When Severus finally reached the gamekeepers hut, he was greeted enthusiastically by the half-giant and the boys, as they were inspecting the pumpkins in Hagrid’s garden.

“…so these are for the Halloween feast?” Harry was asking as Severus walked towards them.

“Yeh, ‘Arry. Yeh’ll see some of ‘em suspended in the ceilin’, an’ some are used fer pies and such; they’re dead useful, pumpkins are,” the large man expounded. “ ‘Ullo, perfesser. I was just showing young ‘Arry and Draco me patch here.” He grinned as the stern professor arrived.

“Good morning, Hagrid. Your patch is looking very good; quite the healthy specimens. Harry and I have some questions for you, do you think we can go inside?”

“Of course, perfesser, lemme just call Fang.” Hagrid placed two fingers in his enormous mouth and whistled for his dog, who came lumbering around the side of the house. “C’mon you dousy dog; tha’s right.” He led the group into the cottage and, filling the kettle at the sink, hung it over the fire to warm up for tea.

“It’ll just be a mo’, ‘ow about a rock cake?” he asked bringing over a large tin full of his specialty. Harry, swinging his legs off the tall bench, politely reached for one but barely took a nibble, he remembered them from last term and they were just as hard. Hagrid grinned widely and moved to Severus, who declined as did Draco – who tried his best not to sneer at the offering.

“No, thank you, Hagrid,” Severus said.

“So, what’d yeh want to talk about?” Hagrid asked as he placed the tin on the table and got out four cups and saucers from his cupboard.

“You heard about Mrs Norris last night, I presume?” Severus began.

“Aye, I ‘eard.” Hagrid looked downcast as he fiddled with the crockery, then went to take the water off the fire. “Sprout told me las’ ev’nin’. Said the Chamber of Secrets ‘ad been opened.”

“That’s correct. We discovered earlier this summer that Harry can speak Parseltongue…”

Hagrid perked up at this with a grin. “Can ‘ee now! Tha’s a great skill to ‘ave, ‘Arry,” he praised. Harry just shrugged; he didn’t truly consider it great – more annoying than anything else.

“Yes, well he heard something speaking in Parseltongue last evening before the attack. We spoke with Salazar’s portrait, which stated that he had built a chamber deep in the bowels of the castle, to store dangerous items, and had set a Basilisk to guard it. However, he also said that… Gertrude…” Severus made a face at the name as Hagrid’s brightened up, “…was last released fifty years ago and that a girl died. Harry remembered that you had your wand snapped at roughly the same time and was expelled. Did you release the Basilisk last time?” he asked the half-giant point-blank.

Hagrid had gone through a gamut of emotions on his expressive, shaggy face as he listened to Snape’s story. It had started with excitement at the mention of the Basilisk, amusement when he heard the beast’s name, and finally sorrow when the death of the girl was mentioned.

“No sir, I didn’t release any Basilisk. Yeh see, it were like this: I owned an Acromantula who they all thought ‘ad caused the problems. But I told ‘em, Aragog wouldn’t ‘urt nobody, but they didna listen and ‘ee ‘ad run away so I didn’t ‘ave any proof. I didn’t kill Myrtle, perfesser, she was … my friend.” Huge tears had begun running down his face, soaking his beard, at his remembrance of that time, and the Hufflepuff who had been kind to an adolescent half-giant. He took a big sniff, blew his nose in a tablecloth-sized handkerchief, and wiped the tears from his face. “Dumbledore believed me… great man, Dumbledore… but ‘ee weren’t Headmaster then. All’s ‘ee could do was get me this here job as assistant gamekeeper to Ogg.” He looked over at Severus, totally forgetting to pour the tea.

“What’re yeh goin’ to do, perfesser?”

Severus leaned back in his seat on the bench, eyeing Hagrid with intent in his black eyes. “I’ll be talking to Dumbledore this afternoon. I’ll remind him of the previous situation, and hopefully get it remedied. As for the current state of things, it helps to know what we are facing.” He looked down at his son. “Do you want to stay here and help Hagrid until lunch, or come back with me and speak to Dumbledore?” he offered.

Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth as he thought about his options. “Do you mind if I stay here?” he asked quietly.

“Not at all, Harry. What about you, Draco?”

The blond gave a smile to his friend before saying, “Actually, I think I’ll stay down here, Uncle Sev; keep Harry company.” Hagrid grinned at that, he had a new batch of Hippogriffs he wanted to introduce the boys to.

“I shall see you both at lunch in the Great Hall, then. We have your homework to go over this afternoon, and then I believe you have Quidditch Practice before dinner, Harry?”

Harry brightened at this reminder – although he could have done without the homework. “Yes, sir,” he replied happily.

“Then I shall you leave you to it. Hagrid,” he said, extending his hand. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, perfesser. I’m glad someone knows the truth now.”

Severus nodded to him as he gave Harry’s hair a stroke in affection then strode out the door. Hagrid clapped his great meaty hands together in enthusiasm. “C’mon boys, le’s go see what is ready to be pulled in the garden! An’ then I have someone I want yeh tah meet.”

Fang barked as the boys hopped down off the bench and the four headed out into the sunshine to pick vegetables.

****

Lunch in the Great Hall was still a bit strained at the Gryffindor table; Ron was still sitting as far away from Harry as he could get, sending furious glances the dark-haired boy’s way. Seamus and Dean were all right with Harry, now, and sat as buffers between the two strained friends. Hermione and Neville sat across from Harry trying to be supportive. Ginny, Ron’s little sister, who had just started her first year, was writing away in a little brown diary, while eating her sandwich. He caught her, sometimes, sneaking glances her way.

“Harry, just ignore Ronald,” Hermione advised. “He’ll come around eventually.”

“I know. I could just use his support right now,” Harry grumbled.

“Why? What’s going on?” Neville asked, picking up a second roll from the basket on the table and reaching for the butter.

“Just on Monday, my Aunt and Uncle go on trial, and I have to be there,” he said resignedly with a sigh.

“Why, Harry? Why are they on trial?” his pudgy friend asked. Harry looked a bit disinclined to answer, curling in on himself a bit; and Hermione, giving him a knowing, but sympathetic look, explained for him.

“Because they abused him, Neville,” she whispered so no one else could overhear. “Harry has to be there to testify. Harry, are they getting you an advocate?”

“Yeah, I’ve talked to him a couple of times over the summer. Severus will be there as well.” He hunched his shoulders as he hugged himself tightly, he wished Draco could be there as well, but there was no way he would say that out loud at the Gryffindor table. “I just don’t want to face them, Hermione.” He raised pleading eyes to his friend, who also saw resignation in those green orbs.

“I know, Harry. Is it a Muggle trial or a wizarding one?” she asked, quite curious despite her worry for her friend.

“Wizard. Since it was a wizard they…” He shook his head, he hadn’t been able to vocalize the fact that what they had done to him was abuse. He felt like a victim if he acknowledged it out loud – and he didn’t like feeling like a victim.

Severus and Whitney, his advocate, had gently worked with him prior to school starting to show him that the way his relatives had treated him all these years had been wrong, and in his head he knew they were right; but in his gut, he still felt that he somehow deserved all the punishments the Dursleys had heaped on him. He was a freak. Look at all the weird things that he could do – talking with snakes! Who, besides him, could talk to snakes? And surviving Voldemort – that had to be the freakiest thing ever, and he’d done it twice now. And what about his real family? It was great to have Severus as his dad, and Draco as his partial brother, but it just increased his freakiness quotient in the school and had caused Ron to shun him, even a week after the big reveal. He pushed his mashed potatoes around on his plate, sculpting them into various shapes then smashing them down with his spoon.

Finally, he gave a great sigh and pushed his plate away to have it vanish from the table. A bowl of mixed fruit arrived in its place and Harry grabbed an apple for later, tucking it away in his robes as he rose from his seat.

“I’ll see you guys later, I need to go do my homework. Erm… I’ll be down in the dungeons if you need me.”

“All right, Harry. See you at dinner?” Hermione asked, concern blossoming on her face.

“Don’t know. I have Quidditch practice this afternoon. It depends,” he equivocated. Hermione nodded at this and, after a quick glance at Head Table to give his father a nod in the direction of the dungeons, he hurriedly left the Great Hall.

Snape watched his son leave and then noticed Miss Granger round on the youngest male Weasley. He cast a wandless eavesdropping charm; this promised to be good.

“Ronald, you are a sorry excuse for a friend,” she started.

“Me?” he asked, spitting food in astonishment that she was venting in his direction. Snape winced at the repulsive table manners. “What’d I do?” He scowled at her.

“It’s what you haven’t done, Ronald. Harry is going through quite a lot right now and your shunning is not helping! You’re supposed to be his best friend, but it doesn’t seem like it right now.” She leaned in his direction, keeping her voice low – but direct.

“Some friend, turning out to be a Snape. What else hasn’t he told us, Hermione? Maybe he’s the heir of Slytherin – seems to be acting a whole lot like one! I saw him down at Hagrid’s this morning, palling around with Malfoy; seems like he’s going Slytherin on us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Ronald, Harry is not the ‘Heir of Slytherin’; and he told us when he was allowed to. He didn’t know until this summer – and he did send us hints in those letters, or couldn’t you understand what he meant by his ‘appearance was going to dramatically change’? Merlin’s sake, Ronald – after your reaction last weekend, it’s a wonder he doesn’t hex you six ways from Sunday; but he hasn’t, and you know why?” she asked, crossing her arms in abhorrence at his attitude.

Ron was turning bright crimson in shame, and he shook his head. “No…”

“Because he still wants you for a friend, although it’s beyond me why he should. I heard what you three did to his bed all last week! You’re lucky he didn’t peach on you guys to McGonagall, or even worse – his dad!” Ron reddened even more at this accusation and Severus could just bet he knew what had happened to Harry’s bed.

Why hadn’t the boy told him? Did he think in some twisted way he deserved to have his bed urinated upon? He had to stop himself from physically smacking himself in the head – of course Harry thought that. Maybe not in those words, but deep down in that area that was still programmed in Dursley’s voice.

As he was ruminating on this, Hermione continued her tirade, getting a look of comprehension on her face. “Are you that jealous of him?” she asked in a sudden burst of insight.

Ron looked stunned at this. “Jealous? Me?”

“Yes, Ronald Bilius Weasley, jealous. You must think it is absolutely glorious to be Harry Potter-Snape, well let me tell you – it isn’t.” Her voice began to rise, catching the attention of the Gryffindors around them and soon the rest of the room, as the verbal thrashing became the focus of the entire great hall.

“He doesn’t want all that fame, all the press and gawking,” she continued. “He wants to be a normal person, with a normal family and normal friends. It is up to us to provide that for him, but you’ve had your head so far up your arse, you can’t see daylight! Get a clue, Ron – Harry has been envious of your family, because up until now, he has never even had a semblance of one. The Dursleys certainly wouldn’t count as such. Now he has someone: a father who cares for him. Who gives a rat’s arse if it is your most hated professor?”

Murmurs arose as a slow wave behind her tirade, gaining momentum as she leaned in towards the gobsmacked boy, oblivious of the attention she was attracting. “And who cares if he’s a friend with Malfoy – maybe that is what this school needs is a little bit more interhouse cooperation! The important part is that Professor Snape obviously cares for Harry and Harry cares for him. A family, Ronald – something you are blessed with an overabundance of. Get your blinkers off, Weasley, and start acting like a friend! Otherwise, you may lose him as one of yours – if you haven’t already!”

Ron sat there spluttering, too dumbstruck at Hermione’s tirade to say anything. She huffed and, pushing her bench back, stalked out of the hall, waves of applause and cheering accompanying her to the doors from three of the tables. The Slytherin’s were laughing outright at Ron’s expression, Pansy Parkinson nearly falling off her seat in hilarity. Fred and George took Hermione’s vacated seat after they finished their own raucous applauding of her, complete with whistles and mock kowtowing in her direction.

“She’s right, little bro…” George started.

“You messed up big time,” Fred chimed in.

“Yeah, Snape can be a right git in class – but he has to be, to ensure safety.”

“We should know; after our first cauldron meltdown, he took us aside and gave us a lecture on why we should follow the safety rules. Then he gave us tips on our own brewing.”

“Yeah, we were supposed to be in detention, and it ended up as a brewing session.” His twin grinned in remembrance – as did Severus, although he wiped his mouth with his serviette to hide it.

“We owe the man a great deal – but don’t let anyone else know, have to keep up appearances, don’t you know!” Fred said conspiratorially.

“You need to apologize to Harry, Ronniekins,” said George, in a matter of fact tone, and the twins rose as one with the rest of the fourth-year Gryffindors leaving Ron alone at his section of table, contemplating his half-eaten plate of food.

Snape cancelled the charm, smirking to himself. He would have to find some surreptitious way to award Granger ten points this week…

Harry shoved aside his charms book with a groan, dropped his quill on it and ran his hands through his hair, causing it to stand on end. He just couldn’t concentrate.  He let his head fall forward and smack the table with a bang, adding a few more bounces for good measure. He popped back up when his last bang was cushioned by a throw pillow that had appeared, along with a chuckle behind him. He glared at his father as the man entered the dining area and took the seat across from him.

“What’s so horrible that you’re trying to knock yourself out?” Severus asked, placing a stack of essays on the table.

“Nothing. I just can’t seem to concentrate,” Harry explained. Severus re-transfigured the pillow back to his son’s textbook. “I know I have to get this done – but my head is not wrapping around it. I keep worrying about Monday…”

Severus nodded in understanding. “Harry, that’s perfectly reasonable. If I had my way, you wouldn’t have to see that monster again. Unfortunately, the law requires it. There are so few cases of abuse in the wizard community…” he began, but Harry interrupted with a frown on his face.

“Why is that?” he wondered aloud.

“Hmmm? Well, because of the damage it could do to the magic in the child; or due to the damage the child could possibly inflict on the abuser in the case of accidental magic,” he explained. “The Weasleys excluded, Magicals are not a very prolific bunch – so anyone born with magic is usually cherished. Probably one of the reasons why the Headmaster was so blind to your abuse – he just couldn’t conceive of it. However, as you know, corporal punishment, as a disciplinary tool, is still used in many wizarding households, some of whom take it to extreme lengths. Unfortunately, a high number of my Slytherin students are still subjected to this type at home despite the parents knowing the possible consequences. Lucius Malfoy is very lucky Draco has never struck back.”

“So, why didn’t I ever do that to Uncle Vernon?” Harry asked, clearly disgusted with himself; if only he had used the magic on Vernon that first time when he was nine!

“It’s not all that simple, son. The Dursleys never let up on you from the time you entered their house. You never knew that you were magical; they made sure of that. Remember, you did use magic to get yourself out of trouble with Dudley.” During the few sessions he’d had with Severus and Whitney, they had managed to get Harry to open up about his life with his relatives and Harry had told them of the few instances of accidental magic he had performed.

“Yeah, but never with Uncle Vernon,” Harry sulked.

“Because you saw Dursley, in a way, as the alpha male in the house. He had complete reign over his little kingdom. If you had known from the beginning that you could do magic, and if Dursley had been more cognizant of the danger he was placing himself in by abusing you to such an extent, you would have been able to fend him off. However, you weren’t and you didn’t. It was a survival instinct kicking in – be passive and submissive to the alpha to ensure your survival. It wasn’t because you were incapable, son; you were unaware that you possessed the ability.”

That seemed to ease Harry’s mind a bit, but he still had a question. “So, this summer…”

“Harry… son…” Severus leaned closer to Harry, taking the boy’s smaller hands in his. “That man had you so brainwashed as to his superiority and your worthlessness in his eyes, that you were too frightened to retaliate. It was not your fault, do you understand?” He took one look at the tearful eyes of his son, and pulled the slight youth over to sit on his lap as he held him, running his long fingers through Harry’s hair, and pushing his love for this boy down their burgeoning link. It took only a few moments, but the shaking soon started, followed by Harry burying his head in his father’s shoulder, sobbing hot, gut-wrenching tears while clutching the man’s robes. Harry had cried before, but never like this, with such heart breaking sobs.

Severus settled back, gently holding the boy, encircling him with his arms and robes, letting him pour out his tears and frustrations for the first time in weeks, if not years. He murmured nonsense into his son’s ears, encouraging him in this purging that would help set Harry on the road to emotional healing. It was a very needed first step, one he and Whitney had been waiting for.

It took a long while, but Harry finally stopped crying, even though he still had Severus’ robes clutched in his hands. His eyes were closed and his breathing still had a hitch in it every now and then. When Severus finally looked down at his son, he realized Harry had fallen asleep. He rose up and carried the youngster into his bedroom and placed him on the bed, having to pry his robe out of his son’s hands, and placing a throw rug over the sleeping child.

It was after four o’clock and he doubted if Harry would get up in time for practice, so Severus floo-called the Gryffindor tower and told Hermione that Harry would not be at practice that evening and would she please tell the team captain.

“Is Harry alright, Professor?” she enquired with a touch of worry in her voice.

“He’s fine, Miss Granger – he is just catching up on some much needed sleep. By the way, Miss Granger…” He looked around the common room and noticed none of the Weasleys were there.

“Yes?”

“Ten points to Gryffindor for your performance at lunch today.” He smirked as the second-year reddened.

“Th… Thank you, sir,” she stuttered in complete and utter shock.

“I should be the one thanking you. Please make sure Mr Wood gets my message.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” She put her book down and headed for the dorm stairs as her potions professor left the fireplace.

Two hours later, Harry – looking still a bit sleepy – ambled into the sitting room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He slumped onto the couch next to his father, then pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his head down on them, blinking blearily at the older wizard next to him. This was more of a comfort position rather than a defensive one and Severus could tell the difference by the relaxation in his son’s body.

“What time is it?” Harry asked groggily.

“Six-thirty.”

Harry’s eyes shot wide open as he took that information in. “I missed…”

“I already told your captain that you would not be there.”

Harry relaxed again, but looked sheepish. “Oh. Thanks, Severus.”

“You’re welcome.” He set the book down that he had been reading. “Are you hungry?”

Harry nodded his head in assent. “But I don’t want to go to the Great Hall,” he added.

“I was planning on eating down here.” He rose from the couch and offered a hand to the boy to assist him in rising as well, as Harry unfolded himself, then led the way to the table where he tapped the top once. Steaming plates appeared and the two silently served themselves.

“Where’s Draco?” Harry asked, looking around the room for his brother.

“Slytherin has tryouts today, he should be back in an hour or so, hopefully triumphant.”

“He better; I didn’t teach him my moves for nothing!” Harry jested. Severus smiled at his son’s attempt at light-heartedness.

“Dad?” Severus felt his heart flip, Harry rarely used this appellation for him – although it was coming more often.

“Yes?”

“I’m scared about Monday. I don’t know if I can face…” He struggled against the lump that had risen in his throat, to no avail; he couldn’t even voice his fear out loud.

“Whitney and I will be right there next to you. They will not come anywhere near you.” He had to constantly assure Harry of this. “I will also have some calming draught with me if you need it,” he reminded him.

Harry smiled at this. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll try to be a Gryffindor about this,” he jested.

“I know you will; much to my chagrin, I’m sure.” They both managed a slight smile at his attempt at humour. “Now, eat up – we can’t have you fainting from lack of nutrition!”

“Yes, sir,” Harry responded and followed it up with action, eating everything that was on his plate, and drinking his modified pumpkin juice.

After dinner, they relaxed with a game of chess – Severus had begun to teach Harry the finer points of the game in the evenings over the summer, and Harry had been stunned to find out he really liked the game now. He wanted to challenge Ron to a match to show him how much he had learned, but didn’t dare approach him.

Severus decided to use this time to talk to his son about what had happened in the dorm over the week while he calmly made his opening moves. “So, I heard a rumour today about a certain Gryffindor dorm smelling like a urinal this week. Care to let me in on it?”

Harry gazed up at his father. “Not particularly. It was a someone’s idea of a nasty joke.”

“I see. So, how many times did you have to sleep on the couch?” He received a glare as an answer.

“Harry?” he pushed.

“Three. It’s been taken care of, and they won’t do it again.”

Severus sighed. “Son, you could have come to me, or your head of house…”

“Why? That would be grassing on them; and I didn’t see any reason for it. Besides, they got the message that Nev and I weren’t going to tolerate it any longer.”

Severus felt a bit of pride, a touch of annoyance that his son hadn’t thought to come to him, and some apprehension as to what the two had done.

“You didn’t bring the twins into this, did you?”

Harry grinned evilly as he studied the board. “Noooo, although they really wanted to do something. No we just paid them back in kind – threefold.”

Severus groaned. “Oh, Merlin – you didn’t.”

“Of course we did! One night sleeping in the Common Room, and they declared a truce straight off,” he said proudly. Severus just shook his head and made his next move, forcing Harry back to paying attention to the game.

He studied the board in front of him, trying to think ahead a few steps as Severus was teaching him to do. Severus leaned back in his chair, watching his son slowly see the trap he had set.

“But that can’t… No, if I move my rook to there, he’ll… Ah, I see!” He looked up at his father with a grin on his face. “Thought you had me, didn’t you? But what if I do this?” He reached out and advanced his knight.

Severus leaned in to study the suddenly new configuration of the board; he hadn’t expected Harry to see this move… Damn, he was checked – and if he moved away from it, checkmated in two moves. He tipped his king over in defeat and leaned back in his chair.

“Well done, Harry!” he praised. Harry soaked in the praise, grinning from ear to ear that he had managed to outsmart his father in chess. They both looked up as the door to Severus’ quarters opened to admit an ecstatic Draco, practically bouncing in his excitement.

“I made it! I made the team, I’m Seeker!” he twirled around the room and ended up landing on the divan stretching out arms and legs in a burst of enthusiasm, beaming from ear to ear. He looked over at Harry, a superior sneer on his lips. “I’m so going to wipe the pitch with you, Snape!”

“In your dreams, fly-boy!” Harry retorted, with a snort. “I may have taught you some of my moves, but I didn’t teach you all of them!”

Draco tossed a pillow in Harry’s direction, but it was intercepted by Severus, who tossed it back on the couch; he didn’t need another pillow fight in his quarters.

“Congratulations, Draco – you’ve made me proud. Now, off to bed with you two, it’s getting a bit late, and we still have your mind techniques to work on.”

”Yes, sir.” Harry helped his father reset the board for next time and followed his brother off to their bedroom to get ready.

A half-hour later Severus knocked on his sons’ door, and heard a muffled “Enter”. He pushed it open and found Harry, hair still damp from a shower, and pyjamas sticking to damp spots on his skin, sitting at his desk and writing in his journal. Severus was quite pleased to see Harry doing this – it was one of the coping mechanisms that Whitney had devised for his son. Draco was still in the shower, humming quietly to himself.

“How’s the writing going?” he asked as he came to over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Fine. I didn’t like it at first – but now I’m used to it. It helps me clear my mind before bedtime.” He put his quill down and closed the notebook, satisfied that he was done with the exercise for this evening and turned to face his father. “I really like the poem in the front of it – have I ever read it to you?”

“I don’t think so – you don’t have to share it…”

“But I want to, at least parts of it – it speaks so clearly to me and to Draco, it’s in his notebook too, we’ve sort of made it our own pact.” He flipped open the notebook to the front page. “Whitney told me last week it was written by a woman in America – he doesn’t know if she was abused or not, or just knew people who were – but she speaks so passionately about the subject… well, listen:

Broken, bruised, shattered and torn,
scarred, blistered, battered, unborn.
Incest, rape, no more trust;
You call it love, you call it lust.
Terrorized, hypnotized, rooted to the spot;
Eyes wide open, soul is cut.
Fear, nightmares, numbness, pain.
Betrayal, violence, terror, flame.”

Severus was quiet as his son recited, with an inborn passion, the words that spelled out his own inner and outer demons. The boy fairly spit out the words that he knew most about, and could identify with, in his own pain.

“And here – this is what Drake and I are making as our own pact:
 

‘It stops here, it stops today,
Your little game, I won’t play.

I swear by the earth, and all I hold dear,
I will not stand by and watch this slaughter,
I will intervene; I will stand in your way.
You will not strike your sister, your’ – we put in son, here; it’s supposed to be wife – ‘or your daughter.’

I hold this body Holy,
I hold this body Sacred,
I hold this body Inviolate.
I reject your violence, your hatred, your story.

And then at the end she says this: ‘I claim my life, my love, my rage!’” Harry and Severus were both quiet for a moment in reflection on the strength of the words. Harry remembered back to the night earlier in the week when he and Draco had met, in an empty classroom, after one of the more harrowing attacks by Nott and his gang.

“Harry, are you all right?” Harry had looked over at his god-brother who was sitting in the window embrasure with him. It was a deep windowsill, wide enough for them to sit Indian style, facing each other, with the window open to the night breezes wafting in the perfumes from the flower gardens below them.

“I’m fine, Drake. I was able to get off a few hexes before I could activate the Portkey.”

“Good,” Draco said, taking a deep breath before continuing on. “Harry, I think we need to make a promise to each other not to let the monsters in our lives take over. We have to control it!”

“Like the poem?” Harry asked timidly.

“Exactly. We can make a Sacred Vow, just like the poem. We can’t let them win – it’s our lives, we have to let them know they have no hold on us.”

“But they do, Drake… I’m always afraid…”

“I know, me too. But we can start by making our own vow and repeating it when it gets tough.”

Harry grinned over at his brother. “Since when did you become a Gryffindor?”

“When you became a Slytherin and haven’t told Uncle Sev about your dorm-mates!” he shot back.

“I’m handling it…”

“Like hell you are, Harry. You are letting them gain control. You can’t – you don’t deserve this, you need to stand up for your rights. Isn’t that what Whitney is always telling us?”

Harry nodded. It was true. “All right, I’ll make this vow with you. I know you’re right, it’s just hard.”

“I know…”

They had then gone to a secluded spot in the classroom, away from windows and doors and sat down on the floor, knees touching. They conjured a lighted candle and set it between them and, grasping hands, they closed their eyes and repeated the final stanza of the poem, setting their Vow in their souls. It had felt like a magical oath.

“I think that it is an excellent sentiment for you, son.” Harry came back with a start as his father spoke up. “I’m glad it speaks most poignantly to you two, and that you can use it as an expression of your experiences, and hope for the future.” He lifted a hand to caress Harry’s face, cupping his cheek before running his hand down his son’s head in affection and love. Harry leaned in to the loving touch – one of the few people he would let touch him in any sort of manner – closing his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of his father’s love spark along the bond they were forming with each other. He felt much the same for his brother – but their beginning boyhood bond was much more tenuous, only passing along vague emotions.

“Nightmares?” Severus asked concernedly as he studied the face that so mirrored his own.

“Not lately. …” He scrunched his face up in thought. “Although… tonight I might have some…”

“Hmmm…” Severus had expected this and pulled out a small vial from his robes, placing it on Harry’s bedside table. “Here is some Dreamless Sleep if you need it, however let’s try your mind clearing exercises and see if that doesn’t do the trick.” This was another thing Severus had begun with Harry: relaxation exercises to clear the mind, and visualization techniques to help him order his mind in preparation for the more advanced study of Occlumency.  With their solid knowledge that Voldemort was still around, Severus felt the need to prepare his son for the monster’s eventual rise back to power; it was just a matter of time. Severus knew that the Dark Lord was skilled in Legilimency and if Harry ever had to confront him again, the beast would stop at nothing to destroy the boy’s mind. So, Severus was teaching him the basics of protecting his mind with the added benefit of reducing the nightmares.

Harry bounced onto his bed, landing cross-legged in the centre. Severus smiled at the boy’s limberness – ah, to be twelve again. The older man resettled himself as well and faced his son.

“Alright, Harry. Tonight we are going to work on compartments. So, breathe in… that’s correct, close your eyes… find your centre and relax into it… breathe out, well done. Continue…” When he had determined that Harry was deeply relaxed, he began the visualization techniques. Harry had chosen to visualize a forest with overgrown foliage as his barrier; he had recently added hunting beasts that prowled the perimeter as further protection. Now, they were going to work on separating his thoughts into well-ordered compartments that were scattered throughout the forest; the real start of Occlumency. He would be interested in seeing what Harry was going to devise for that.

“Now Harry, open your eyes and I shall show you how to order your thoughts and memories.” His son opened his eyes and Severus was struck again by the sheer potency of those green eyes staring so trustingly into his. The bond they had forged over the last few weeks strengthened each time Severus entered his mind, to the point that he could now enter without the spell. He fell into those green pools and encountered the forest.

He stood at the edge, taking in the expanse of the construct. It had the appearance of the Forbidden Forest, but Harry was starting to add hanging vines and undergrowth so that is now resembled a tropical jungle. Severus took a step towards the trees and found his way blocked by a large Hippogriff – his son had read his old school copy of Newt Scamander’s beast book and had peppered his construct with the roaming beasts. As Severus looked, a huge python snake lowered itself from a branch above to peer at him, flicking its tongue in his direction.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Harry, I’m here.” He looked down to his left as a young boy came up to him. “Your forest is looking much more complete than the last time I was here – and it responded quite well when I made an attempt to enter. Well done, Harry.”

The young child grinned up at the older man. “Do you like my guardian?” He nodded towards the snake. “He will only let those who know the password in Parseltongue to pass. Voldemort would never be able to get to the password – I have it buried deep in the forest.”

“Good, shall we see how deep and what else you have tried to do?” his father enquired.

Harry nodded and led his father past the python and Hippogriff. They made their way along no discernable path – as far as Severus could see, although Harry led the way unerringly - to a spot that seemed relatively central. A deep blue pool, that seemed fathomless, was in the centre of a glade. Harry stopped at the edge and Severus continued on his way around, peering into the azure depths and feeling the strength of the wards around it. He was impressed, Harry had done this naturally, without guidance – this boded well for the future.

“I modelled it after a picture I saw of a geyser pool in the Americas. It was very deep and blue, and you could never see the bottom.”

“And the password?…”

“At the bottom.” The boy grinned his satisfaction. Severus nodded his acceptance.

“Very good. You have the beginning sense of what I wanted to discuss. If you like the idea of pools, you can use these, scattering them around the forest to hide your thoughts in. Use certain pools for certain types of memories. It doesn’t matter how you order them, how you separate them by types – just that you do – and then drop these in the pools where they can be safe.”

“I think I understand, Dad. I’ll work on this during the week – but I’m pretty knackered now…”And to emphasize that, the projection-Harry cracked a huge yawn, that caused his father to do the same. They laughed a second afterwards, and then Severus took his son’s hand and led him out of the forest towards their separate selves.

Severus opened his eyes and stared into Harry’s green orbs, studying his son as he waited for the boy to become aware of his surroundings. He marvelled at how well Harry was picking up this study; last year he would never have picked Harry Potter as having the capacity for this type of mind discipline. How wrong he was. Harry soon gave a little shake of his head and yawned again.

Severus noticed the shower had stopped while they were absorbed in their exercise and saw that Draco was already asleep in the other bed. They had been under a bit longer than he thought.

“Excellent, Harry. You are making true progress. Soon, we’ll be able to erect true barriers and progress into real Occlumency where you will learn to defend your mind from attack. Right now, your barriers are passive. Now, do you think you’ll need the potion?” Severus whispered as he stood up and, after helping the boy under the covers, tucked his son into bed.

“I don’t think so, but leave it there just in case; please?” Severus gently brushed his son’s hair away from his forehead, then bent down to leave a quiet kiss on his head.

“Of course I shall leave it. Sleep well, Harry.”

“G’night, Dad…” Harry closed his eyes as he snuggled into the pillow. One last pat on the head, and Severus went over to check on Draco, tucking the covers more firmly under the boys chin and dropping a kiss on his head as well, He then took his leave, Nox-ing the lights and closing the door to just a crack.

“Harry? Come here, please,” Severus called down the hallway for his son after showing the court advocate, Whitney McDonald to a seat. The man had arrived to go over the preparations one last time prior to the start of the trial the next morning.

Harry hurried down the hallway, tugging at the hem of his school jumper to straighten it and giving Severus a rueful smile as he walked over to Whitney, holding his hand out for a welcoming shake.

“Hullo, Whitney,” he said pleasantly as the two shook, and then took their places on the chairs. Severus sat on the divan after summoning a full tea service for them all.

Whitney McDonald was a pleasant middle-aged fellow, with thinning, sandy hair that always seemed to be the permanent perch for a pair of reading glasses that periodically were placed on his nose. He had pale blue eyes that, while merry, also held deep emotion when the man was moved by the cases he had to represent. Remus, of all people, had recommended him to Severus, and Harry got along well with the man, for which Severus was grateful.

Whitney had gently helped Harry understand the court procedures and, with his Muggle degree in psychology, had been able to get Harry to open up about what had happened during his years with the Dursleys. Whitney had been a few years ahead of Severus in school, and was a Slytherin – although he had never been tempted in the seventies to follow Voldemort. Instead, he had devoted his life to helping children who had to face the court system, and helping them heal.

“It’s good to see you Harry, are you ready for tomorrow?” Whitney accepted the cup of tea Severus handed him, and reached out to choose several biscuits from the wide array the elves had provided.

Harry sat back in his chair, a guarded look coming over his face. “Not really, but I know I have to do it. I just don’t like it,” he groused.

Whitney chuckled kindly at that. “You don’t have to like it, Harry – people rarely do – all we ask is that you are prepared for what could happen in the courtroom. Are you?”

Harry thought a bit, thinking about all the information Mr McDonald had given him over the last couple of weeks, and the exercises he and Severus had gone through to keep him from panicking when he got into the room itself and had to face those people. He felt that now he could do this.

He nodded his head at the advocate. “I think I’m ready. I should be able to handle it,” he assured the man.

“Good. Severus, you two will need to be there at nine a.m., with all the paperwork to hand. Is Madame Pomfrey joining you as well?”

Severus nodded. “She is, she has all the documentation from earlier in the summer when we rescued Harry, and Harry has allowed us to extract memories from his time with his relatives. I also have journals from a squib that lived nearby, Mrs Figg, and she is also willing to testify. She was placed there, at Dumbledore’s behest, to watch over Harry.”

“Good, good. And the solicitor has duplicates of all of this? Excellent.” He drank off the rest of his tea and sat the cup and saucer back down on the table. “I will take my leave then and see you in court tomorrow.” He stood up and walked over to Harry’s chair, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder and giving it a companionable squeeze. “It will be alright, Harry. You’ll see.” He nodded over at Severus and then walked to the front door and let himself out.

“Harry?”

“I’m okay, Dad, really…”

Severus was going to say more, but a knock sounded on his door and he stood to go answer it. He was surprised to find Marcus Flint standing outside.

“What is it, Flint?”

“Sir, Professor… there’s been another attack. Professor Dumbledore sent me for you,” the boy blurted out.

Severus looked over at his son, who had stood up from his chair at the news. “Did you hear? …” he asked the boy, but Harry shook his head in the negative, terror clearly written on his face.

Severus turned back to the upperclassman Slytherin standing in his doorway who was clearly upset at seeing Harry in his head’s rooms. “Flint!” he growled, catching the older boy’s attention. “Head back to the common room and tell everyone to stay there. No one is to leave until the all-clear has sounded. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir!” The Quidditch Captain retreated hastily and headed back down the corridor towards the Slytherin territory. Severus turned back to his son.

“Stay here, Harry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He didn’t wait to see if Harry obeyed or not, but took off at a run towards the upper reaches of the castle, slamming his door behind him.

This time it was several hours before his father returned, and Harry was beside himself with worry. Draco had left their quarters earlier in the afternoon and headed back to the dorms, so Harry had no one to talk to. He even briefly considered using his cloak, to see what was going on, but he knew if his dad caught him, his punishment would make potion ingredients preparation look like gourmet cooking. He stayed put instead. But he couldn’t help worrying over why he hadn’t heard Gertrude this time. Who was letting her out and why? Why was he the only one who could hear the big, honking snake? They needed to find out where she was coming from and who was letting her out. He curled up on the sofa, letting the fire in the grate mesmerise him until his dad came home.

“It was Justin Finch-Fletchly,” Severus remarked as he finally re-entered his rooms a few hours later, soon after the all-clear had sounded. It was now close to curfew. Sitting wearily behind his desk, he summoned a glass of brandy. “And Nearly Headless Nick,” he added as he took a deep sip of his brandy, letting the liquor settle his nerves.

“Justin? But I just saw him in the library earlier,” Harry exclaimed, sitting up. He’d had a run-in with the Hufflepuff earlier in the day when he’d gone to the library to meet-up with Hermione. The boy had stated out loud that he thought Harry had let the beast out on Friday night, taunting him to his face. Harry had gritted his teeth and explained he’d been in his dad’s quarters at the time, and had stomped out of the library after apologising to Hermione and before Madam Pince could swoop down on him. He had felt as if every eye in the place had followed him out.

“Yes, and enough people overheard that conversation to think you were behind this attack again.” He took another sip, savouring the taste as it slid over his tongue. “Oddly enough, Flint is letting it be known that he saw you here, and couldn’t have been at the scene of the attack; unfortunately, very few are listening to him.”

Harry sighed as he grabbed his knees in his customary shield position, rocking a bit in place.

Severus mentally groaned as he took in Harry’s posture, and went to sit down beside him. “Harry, I don’t want you worrying about this right now, you have enough on your plate with tomorrow. This isn’t going to be solved tonight… Come in!” he called out irritably as a knock sounded on his door.

Draco rushed into the room, walking quickly over to the sitting area. He took in his brother’s anguished face and sat down on the edge of the divan facing the smaller boy.
“Merlin’s beard, Harry, this is not your fault! Tell him it’s not his fault, Uncle Sev!”

“I have told him, Draco; perhaps you can get it through that Gryffindor, self-sacrificing hide.” Severus said, throwing his hands in the air and settling back in his seat.

Draco took in the miserable form of his friend and in a swift move, had Harry surrounded by his arms as he hugged his brother. He ignored the feeling of contentment he felt with Harry safe in his arms, and concentrated on easing the boy’s suffering.

Harry sniffed as his arms reluctantly snaked around Draco’s torso, and his head lay on his brother’s chest. He could hear the soft heartbeat, and feel his brother’s magic licking at his shields and surrounding him with warmth. He finally pulled away and smirked at the wet spot he had left on the blond’s robes.

“Sorry,” he said, nodding his head toward the spot.

“Shut it, git,” Draco said good naturedly, cuffing Harry on the shoulder. “Look, it’s late, and I need to get back to the dorms before curfew. I just wanted to check on you before tomorrow. Are you going to be alright now?”

Harry nodded, touching his brother’s arm gratefully.

“Good, I’ll just see myself out then – good luck, Harry.”

“Thanks, Draco,” Harry said quietly.

Severus got up to walk his godson to the door. “Thank you for your help Draco, I wasn’t sure I was getting through to him. He feels responsible for everything. Are you sure your father never mentioned his plan to you?” he tried once more.

“No, I only knew he had one, but not what it was, or how he had gone about it. I do know he has things belonging to the Dark Lord hidden underneath the dining room, but I’ve never been allowed down there. I’m sorry, Uncle Severus.”

“No matter, I’m sure all will be revealed in time. I’ll pass on the information about the dining room; in the meantime, you need to hurry on along to your dorm.”

“Yes, sir. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Draco. Goodnight.” He opened the door for his student and watched a moment as he travelled in the right direction for the Slytherin dorms.

When he returned to the room, Harry had already headed for bed, so Severus Nox-ed the lights and headed for his bedroom after sneaking a look at the already sleeping teen.

****

The next morning found Severus and Harry walking to the gates of the school after breakfast. They had eaten in the Great Hall, or at least attempted to eat on Harry’s part. He had managed a piece of toast and his juice before giving it up as a lost cause. Hermione had tried to encourage him, in her own inimical way, but a pleading look from him finally shut her up.

Neville had given him an encouraging smile and Ron was apparently avoiding him, as he hadn’t shown for breakfast. Ron’s little sister, Ginny, whispered a good luck to him, before heading to classes, hugging her books to her chest – looking a bit pale. He liked Ginny, in a brotherly way, and he wondered why she was looking so bleak when it was only the second week of school – but he had too many things to worry about without adding another one. He shrugged to himself and continued nibbling on his toast.

Harry had sat facing the Slytherin table, so he caught the supportive look Draco gave him and felt better knowing his brother was going to be with him, at least in spirit, for the duration. He just prayed the trial would be quick.

When they reached the road just outside the gates, Harry allowed Severus to hold him as they turned in place and apparated to Diagon Alley. They hurried through the Leaky Cauldron and exited onto a busy Muggle street where they quickly took the underground to the Muggle government’s ministry complex. Harry nearly burst out laughing when he saw his father heading for an ordinary red call box standing on the corner of the street, but Severus motioned him over to enter with him. Harry looked aghast at the disconnected handset wondering how they were going to call. Severus solved the mystery when he dialled in a set of numbers and a voice came out of the air.

“Welcome to the Ministry for Magic. Please state your name and business.”

Severus calmly responded, “Severus Snape and Harry Potter, prosecution witnesses in the trial of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley.”

“Thank you. Please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.”  Harry watched as two metal disks rolled out of the change slot. Severus pinned one to the front of his robes and handed the second to Harry. Harry saw that his read ‘Harry Potter, witness’.

He nearly jumped as the floor began to drop and the inner workings of the call box dropped like an elevator.

The pleasant voice came on again letting them know they needed to have their wands scanned at the security desk and wished them a pleasant day as the box hit the floor of an underground complex that reminded Harry of an old tube system.

Harry marvelled at the sheer enormity of the complex, and all the people flooing in with bursts of green flames through the numerous fireplaces lining the walls, Ministry employees hurrying everywhere, and the fountain of magical brethren in the centre of the atrium with its golden statues with the water splashing merrily into the pool at the bottom. Harry could see gold, silver and bronze coins glistening beneath the water and read a sign saying that all donations went to a hospital.

Harry followed Severus to the guard desk where their wands were weighed and registered, and where they obtained information as to where the trial was to be held.

“Courtroom nine, professor,” the guard relayed. “It’s scheduled to start in a half hour.” Severus gently took Harry’s forearm and began leading him across to a bank of elevators that led down to the courtrooms. They ran into Whitney on the way, and picked up Albus and Poppy as well.

“Albus, what are you doing here?” Snape asked sharply.

“I’ve been called as a witness, for the prosecution,” he explained. Severus sighed, he supposed that it was necessary, and led their little band onto an elevator pressing the button for the lowest level. Harry watched in amazement as paper airplanes buzzed around the ceiling lamp, exiting on their own as they stopped at various floors. Whitney explained to him that they were memos.

When they reached the correct level, Dumbledore led them to the courtroom, through the phalanx of reporters yelling their questions and snapping pictures. Harry paled at the number of journalists, and felt the beginnings of his agoraphobia starting again. He was grateful when they walked past the courtroom doors, and they entered to find a large chamber with tiered seating that all faced the central, parquet floor.

On that floor was a hard wooden chair with black iron chains dangling from it. Two tables faced what appeared to be the court – Albus whispered it was the full Wizengamot, before stepping toward the group of officials to speak with them before the trial began – and they took seats next to their Barrister, one Jason Allgood, a recommendation from Whitney. At the other table sat another wizard in Barrister robes who apparently was the representative for the Dursleys.

Harry looked around the room and saw that all the benches were practically full, and he turned and saw Madam Pomfrey join Mrs Figg behind him. Mrs Figg gave him a watery smile and a little wave of encouragement while clutching her handbag in her lap and looking nervously around herself at all the other people in the chamber. Severus had told him that they might have to use her as a witness.

As he looked around the chamber some more, he saw Ron’s mom off to the left with a balding redheaded man, wearing glasses, sitting next to her. He assumed the man was Mr Weasley. They gave him a sympathetic smile, which he returned. He pointed them out to Severus, who took note in order to have a word with them later. Harry’s gaze continued past the similarly robed members of the Wizengamot and around to the right side of the chamber where his eyes landed on a man who looked like an older version of Draco. He tugged again on Severus’ sleeve.

“Dad, is that Draco’s father over there?” He indicated the direction with his eyes. Severus let his gaze follow his son’s and spotted Lucius immediately. They gave each other barely imperceptible nods; Lucius letting a frown mar his visage for a slight, unguarded moment before returning to its smooth, patrician lines.

“Yes, Harry, that is Lucius Malfoy,” his father confirmed.

“And the stick?” Harry asked fearfully.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what he can do with that walking stick. It also contains his wand in the handle,” he pointed out. Harry shivered as he imagined Draco being beaten with the shiny, ebony surface. He got a brilliant idea all at once and whispered it into his father’s ear. Severus looked thoughtful for a moment before looking down at his son.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I think we need to do this,” his son insisted.

“I will look into it after this is all over, it may take some doing. All right?”

“Thank you!” Harry said before giving his father a quick hug. His happiness was short lived, as it died a moment later.

A witch stood up, at the stroke of nine o’clock, pounding her gavel to gain the rooms attentions. When that was obtained, she motioned for a clerk to read from the parchment in front of him.

“We are gathered here for the trial of Vernon William Dursley, Petunia Rose Evans-Dursley, and Dudley Vernon Dursley – minor, in the matter of the abuse of minor Harry James Potter-Snape. Secretary for Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Winterveil, presiding. Will the accused enter the courtroom?”

A huge oak door to the side of the chamber clanged open and the sound of chains dragging and clanking preceded the actual view of the Dursleys entering the courtroom. They were dressed in grey prison shifts and seemed to have lost some weight. Petunia’s hair, usually well-coifed, was now pulled back in a severe bun at the back of her head and she looked more homely than usual without any makeup on. She glanced over at Harry, but quickly looked away again, only to be caught by Severus’ gaze. She gave a little start, bouncing her eyes between the boy and his father before narrowing them, pinching her mouth, and taking her seat.

Dudley looked scared out of his wits as he looked around the room, and whimpered all the way to his seat, his hands covering his arse. Vernon looked daggers at his nephew as he crossed the floor, rattling his chains in the boy’s direction as if to say, ‘See, look what you’ve done to us!’ Harry swallowed hard, but let his eyes show the pity mixed with disgust he felt for his uncle as he gazed back at the man.

The Auror in charge of leading the family, yanked roughly on Vernon’s arm in order to get the man to take his seat.

The witch in charge shuffled the notes in front of her before looking towards Jason Allgood. “Mr Allgood, I believe you wish to amend your charges?”

Jason stood up and walked around the table to stand in the centre of the room. “If it please the court, Mr Potter-Snape would like to drop the trial of his cousin, Dudley, in favour of the boy going to a remedial centre for the duration of his schooling, along with probation for a period of six years after leaving school, a tracking spell to be used during that time to monitor the child’s activities. He would be assigned a counsellor and it would be mandatory that he take certain classes concerning anger management, along with community service at a Muggle Abuse Crisis Shelter.”

The witch turned to the Barrister at the other table who had leaned in to confer with his clients. Harry could see Petunia nodding her head and shooting Vernon one of her glares before he acceded as well, blustering all the way.

“Well, Mr Ragger – do your clients agree to this offer?” Madam Winterveil asked.
 
“We do, your honour,” said the councillor as he too stood up at his table.

“So be it. Auror, please take Mr Dursley back to his cell, and get him ready for transport to St Brutus’ Academy.” Dudley meekly followed the Auror out of the chamber, but looked back at his cousin, and then his parents, with fear in his eyes before he disappeared behind the massive door that led to the holding cells. The deal had been one that Harry had initiated when they had spoken to the solicitors office. He truly felt that Dudley was only following the example set by his parents and, if he had a more positive environment to encourage him, he might be able to change. His parents were adults, however, and should face the music.

Severus laid a hand over Harry’s as they watched the formalities proceed.

“Mr Allgood, do you have any further recommendations before we continue?” the presiding witch asked.

“No, your honour.”

“Then we may proceed with opening remarks. Mr Allgood, I believe you are first?”

“Yes, your Honour. The prosecution intends to show that Vernon and Petunia Dursley did wilfully neglect, abuse, starve and embezzle funds of their nephew, Harry James Potter-Snape. Further we will show that this was done with full knowledge of Mr Potter-Snape’s status as a wizard, and an understanding of the consequences to them if they ever intended harm to him.”

Jason sat back down with a gesture towards the other table that they could take the floor. Mr Ragger stood and faced Secretary Winterveil.

“Madam Secretary, I will show that the Dursleys feared for their lives and were only protecting their family from a person they believed would harm them. He had already shown wilful destruction of their property, and to their persons. Mr Dursley only attacked the boy in self-defense.”

“Right, like there was much an eighty pound boy could do to him,” Severus snorted in an undertone to Dumbledore, who had rejoined them when Jason had begun his opening remarks.

“Patience, Severus. That Barrister knows it is a flimsy defense, as does the court,” Albus soothed.

The trial dragged on through the morning as Jason brought forth testimony from Madam Pomfrey, showing the court the numerous injuries discovered on Harry’s body as well as all of the abuse. Vernon leered over at Harry at that point, before Reggie Ragger could tell his client to stop badgering the victim. Harry nearly lost his composure, and his breakfast, at that point, starting to tremble and sweat.

Severus pulled a tiny vial of calming draught from his robes and got Harry to drink it, before pulling the boy closer to him and rubbing a soothing hand over his back to get him to calm down, effectively shielding him from seeing the Dursleys. He could hear his son murmuring over and over, ‘I claim my life; I claim my life.’

Jason showed the court the Pensieved copied memories from Harry, then he brought forth Mrs Figg’s journals and the court had to recess in order to peruse the many entries from over the years and also to look over the medical records, as well as review the Pensieve testimony.

The Weasley’s came down from the stands, at Dumbledore’s summons, and Arthur led the group to an employees only lunchroom where they were able to obtain trays of hot food for lunch. Dumbledore ate quickly and left the table, citing a need to take the opportunity to speak to some colleagues and Harry and Severus were left with Mr and Mrs Weasley. Arthur offered to take Harry on a short tour of the Ministry, which left Molly and Severus alone at the table.

Molly broke the silence. “I must say, Severus, I was amazed at the reveal of Harry being your son, but I saw today that you two have seemed to bond. I confess I’m a little protective of him – I was the one who showed him how to get on the train last year. He looked so lost, I just wanted to take him home, feed him up properly, and take care of him.”

“Yes, Harry told me the story – he was very grateful that you were there to give him the proper instructions. Hagrid forgot to tell him how.”

Molly tsked before taking a sip from her cup. “Well, alls well. … Severus, I wanted to ask you how the children are doing this year?” Molly continued.

Severus took a sip of his tea as he considered his reply. He couldn’t have hoped for a better opening. “Percival is doing well, maintaining his ‘O’ so far – but it is only the second week of class. The twins seem to be working themselves up to some mischief, but I have them well in hand. I’ve discovered that if I give them ‘detentions’ on a regular basis and let them brew to their hearts content, it curbs their prankster side. Ginevra is quiet in class, a bit tentative in her brewing – but not too bad, so far.”

Molly noticed the absence of her sixth son immediately. “And Ronnie?”

“Ah, there we seem to have a problem. He is inattentive in class unless Miss Granger prods him along from her station behind him, he is very disrespectful of me in particular and most of the other teachers in general – except for Professor McGonagall, who seems to be the only one who can make him behave. He has also shunned Harry since our relationship was revealed at Opening Feast.”

“He WHAT!” she blasted. Severus nearly smirked to himself, but managed to keep his face impassive.

“Yes; apparently he has decided that Harry has somehow turned traitor by being my son and has made it clear that he thinks Harry should be re-sorted. Miss Granger has already pointed his errors out to him, twice, and the twins have also told him he needs to shape up, but it does not seem to have gotten through to him, yet.”

He could almost see steam pouring from the mother’s ears as she listened to his explanation. Molly Weasley in a good tirade was a sight to behold.

“If he was at home, my spoon would be walloping him a good one!” she growled. “I take it a howler from me probably wouldn’t help at this point, would it,” she asked, almost hopefully.

“As much as I am sure it would satisfy you to send one, I sincerely doubt that it would do any good, and it may actually hinder. I’m just letting you know so you are aware of the situation – we may be in for a long haul on this one; Ronald strikes me as being able to hold a grudge for long periods of time,” he observed.

“Aye, he’s one who likes to dance on the grave – that one. You will let me know if it escalates, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’m glad Harry has more adults like you on his side. He hasn’t had much of that in the past.”

“Aye, that is truly obvious – those people are evil, Severus.”

Severus nodded his agreement as he finished off his tea and reached for the pot to pour another, but he noticed Arthur returning with Harry in tow.

“Well, Severus, Harry seemed to enjoy the tour, eh, my boy?” Arthur asked as he gazed down at the small youth.

“Yes, thank you, Mr Weasley!”

“You are quite welcome, Harry. We ran into your Barrister on our way back here, he says court will be resuming in ten minutes.”

“We better return downstairs then,” Severus stated and stood up from the table. Arthur gave Molly a hand up and this seemed to be the signal to the table that they were done, as the dishes vanished with a little pop.

****

When the court returned after lunch, looking very grim indeed, Jason conferred with Whitney and Severus and then, after calling Albus to the stand to have him relate why he had placed Harry with his relatives, he called Harry to the stand. He deferred the questioning to Whitney.

Harry let Whitney lead him to the stand, and Severus allowed the court to administer one drop of Veritaserum after downing another tiny vial of calming draught. Harry kept his eyes down as he passed where his uncle sat glowering at him – he could hear the man mumbling under his breath - and his stomach churned with acid as he sat down in the hard chair facing the court. He didn’t like having Vernon behind him; it made him feel vulnerable when he couldn’t see where the man was. The chains rattled once, causing Harry to jump, but fell silent without ensnaring him. He kept his eyes on his advocate the entire time he was in the chair.

Whitney smiled at him as he came close to Harry. “Doing alright, Harry?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whitney pushed his glasses up so they perched on his forehead. “Now Harry, they’ve given you a potion called Veritaserum. Do you understand what that is?”

“Yes, sir. It ensures that I only tell the truth.” The room was starting to go a bit hazy at the edges.

“Correct, Harry. I think the potion has taken effect. Shall we test it out? Try to lie to me, Harry; who is your real father?”

“James… Severus Snape.” He had tried, but it was as if the truth was being pulled from him like taffy; he was physically incapable of lying.

“Well done. Now Harry, I’m going to ask you some questions about your home life with your relatives. These will be just like the questions I’ve asked you over the past few weeks. Just concentrate on me, and talk only to me. Try to pretend that no one else is around us, alright?”

“I’ll try, sir.” Harry wasn’t sure if that would be possible, with Uncle Vernon growling behind him, but he would try.

Whitney began asking Harry the same questions about his life with the Dursleys, focusing on the abuse, the starvation, the endless chores. He asked questions about his clothes and where they came from – causing several court members to shake their heads and murmur, as they realized that this tiny child, this saviour of their world, was expected to wear his humongous cousin’s cast-offs.

“Harry, when did you realise that what the Dursleys were doing to you wasn’t what other children experienced.”

“When I started primary school. I tried to tell a teacher, but she called the Dursleys and told them what I was saying, and they told her I was liar. Uncle Vernon beat me really hard that day, and I wasn’t given anything to eat for three days and they kept me in cupboard all that time.”

“The entire time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They didn’t let you out to use the loo or go to school?”

Harry shook his head. “I had a bucket,” was his quiet answer.

The court nearly exploded with gasps, and the Aurors had to restrain several maternal-looking witches, Mrs Weasley included, who had their wands out ready to hex Vernon and Petunia.

Vernon just sat calmly in the chair as if he had not a care in the world; Petunia pursed her lips, but that was her only reaction. Secretary Winterveil had to pound her gavel several times to quiet the court down.

“When did you get to clean your body, Harry?” Whitney asked after the furore had died down.

“Once a week, five minutes under cold water,” was the automatic answer. Harry had never known a hot shower until he had come to Hogwarts, and he still revelled in them, taking even more, now that he had inherited his dad’s hair.

“Did you ever break anything or hurt any of your cousin’s toys on purpose, Harry?”

“No sir. There were a few times when my accidental magic made things happen, but I didn’t know what that was until I learned I was a wizard.”

“And what about Dudley’s toys?”

“Dudley broke his own toys and would always blame it on me, so I would get punished,” he stated.

“What about the incidences of accidental magic, what would bring those about?”

“One time, Dudley’s gang was chasing me and I tried to leap behind some trash bins and ended up on the roof of the school. Another time, I set a snake on my cousin, and then one time I turned my teacher’s hair blue and…”

Whitney grinned indulgently as Harry let the Veritaserum run his mouth. There were several titters from the gallery as the child revealed normal instances of accidental magic. Whitney and Severus both thanked Merlin, silently, that the audience and court did not know exactly how Harry had loosed the snake. “That’s enough Harry,” Whitney told him and Harry cut off mid-sentence, as if a switch had been pulled. “Now, Harry, did you ever do any accidental magic against your Aunt or Uncle?”

“Not that I remember, sir. I was too frightened of them, I think.”

“Harry, I am going to direct this next question to your last day at the Dursleys. What happened that particular day?”

“Uncle Vernon had me do all sorts of yard-work and housework as he and my aunt were going to have a prospective client of his over for dinner that evening. Everything was to be absolutely perfect.”

“Did anyone else help with the chores? Like your cousin, perhaps? Or your Aunt?”

“Dudley? No, he was never given any chores to do – just me. Aunt Petunia cooked the dinner and made this magnificent pudding and Uncle Vernon sat on the couch and watched a football game with Dudley.” Murmurs arose again, chasing around the gallery.

“Were you going to participate in this dinner?”

“No, sir. I was never allowed to eat with them. When I was done with all my chores, my aunt gave me a piece of bread, a slice of cheese and a glass of water and I was told to go to my room and stay there, not to make a sound, and pretend I didn’t exist. The clients weren’t supposed to know I existed, you see.”

“What happened when you went to your room?”

“Not my room,” Harry clarified, still under the effect of the truth potion. “Dudley’s second bedroom – I just slept there. Err, when I reached the room, there was a house-elf there. Well, I didn’t know it was a house-elf at first, I didn’t know what he was. He had to tell me.”

“And why was he there, Harry?”

“To warn me not to go to Hogwarts. He said there was something dangerous there and that I shouldn’t go back, it wouldn’t be safe for me. I tried to explain to him that I had to go back, but he made such a racket that Uncle came up. The house-elf hid in my wardrobe and I passed it off as a chair tipping over. When Uncle left, the house-elf still insisted I had to stay there. He said it was for my own good. I refused.”

“What did he do then?”

“He left my room and I chased after him down the stairs. He used his magic to make my aunt’s pudding float into the lounge and land directly on the clients; then he disappeared making my Uncle think I had done it. I even got a warning from the Misuse of Magic office. That’s what really set my uncle off. He began beating me all over, and using his belt buckle. Then he threw me into the cupboard on top of my trunk. I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in the infirmary at Hogwarts.”

“Why did the warning set him off?”

“I didn’t tell them I couldn’t do magic over the summer. I thought it would make it safer if they thought I could hex them if they did anything to me,” he said sheepishly. There were whispers of commiseration and some good-natured chuckling at this revelation.

“Did it work?”

“Some… Dudley was scared of me, but Uncle didn’t let up,” he admitted.

“So, what did your aunt do when your uncle began the beating?” Whitney gently asked.

“Nothing,” he stated in a monotone voice.

“Nothing? She didn’t try to stop her husband?”

Harry was puzzled, Aunt Petunia stopping Uncle Vernon? “No sir, she cleaned up the pudding while he was beating me, and didn’t look at me at all.”

“She didn’t check on you in your cupboard?”

“No, sir. Not that I know of.” Whitney peered down at Harry then patted him on the arm.

“Thank you, Harry, I believe that is all. Mr Ragger will not be questioning you – this was only to have you state what you experienced in your own words. Let’s go back to your seat now.” He led Harry back to his father who gave him a bit more calming draught, before drawing his son close to his side, letting him hide in the folds of his robes so no one would see him shaking.

Secretary Winterveil consulted her notes before continuing on. “I believe we will take a short recess before we return. Mr Ragger, you will be up next.” She pounded her gavel three times and the Wizengamot filed out of the chamber.

Madame Pomfrey made her way down out of the gallery to the floor of the chamber and walked over to the table to check on Harry as Aurors removed the Dursleys for the short recess.

Severus was doing his own examination as she approached.

“Severus, how is he?” she asked, flicking her wand out and taking a reading.

“Not good, Poppy,” he replied, not taking his eyes off of Harry. The boy, despite calming draughts, was still trembling and his eyes were still glassy in appearance. He looked pleadingly up at his father, though.

“Dad, I just want this to end. I can last the rest of the day,” he insisted.

“Are you sure? We can ask for a delay…” he offered.

“No, let’s get it over with.” He looked up at his advocate. “Please, Whitney. I can’t stand to drag it out; I never want to see them after today.”

“Alright, Harry. Let me check with Madam Winterveil and see if we can expedite this today.” He walked away from the table and headed towards the cluster of senior Wizengamot members who were milling away at the other end of the chamber.

A young junior Auror, with bright fuchsia hair, made her way over to their table with a tray of tea for several people floating in front of her. “Mr Allgood? This is for you and your clients from Madam Winterveil, she said the boy looked peaked and probably needed some refreshment.”

“Thank you, Auror -?”

“Tonks, sir – just call me Tonks.” She smiled down at Harry and backed away from the table, tripping over her feet as she attempted to leave the area hastily. Severus and Poppy sighed in tandem as they watched the young lady leave.

“That child was in my infirmary more times than I care to think about. Appears maturity hasn’t fixed that problem,” Poppy murmured to Severus.

“How she managed an ‘O’ on her NEWTs in my class, has me boggled to this day,” Severus agreed. Harry watched them with an incredulous look on his face, which Severus finally noticed. “What? The child is a walking disaster!” His son managed a tiny smile at his father’s jest and began to relax a bit, letting the potion work it’s magic. He accepted a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit from the lawyer as Whitney made his way back over to them.

“Alright, Harry. They are going to have your Aunt’s trial first – then your Uncle’s. If it gets too much for you, you’re to let me know immediately. Understand? Good.” He turned to Allgood as he was offered some refreshment. “Thank you, Jason, a spot of tea is just what I need.” He accepted the proffered saucer and cup and chose a biscuit from the plate.

Harry relaxed against his father’s side until a bong sounded in the chamber, indicating that everyone was to retake their seats. The tea tray disappeared and a water carafe and cups replaced it. As soon as the gallery and Wizengamot were again seated, the prisoner’s gate was opened and Petunia was led over to the chair in the centre of the room. The chains immediately snaked around her chest and arms, holding her in place. She looked small and vulnerable in the large chair, but Harry was not looking; instead, his head was down, staring at his hands clenched in his lap. He had flinched when he had heard the chains, but that had been his only reaction. His lips moved as he repeated his mantra under his breath. Severus kept a hand on his boy’s back – willing calmness down their bond.

The clerk stood up and approached the accused. “Petunia Rose Evans Dursley; you are accused of child neglect, child abuse, embezzlement of funds rightfully belonging to Harry James Potter-Snape, and child abandonment. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty!” she declared, sitting upright in her chair and staring at the clerk in defiance.

“Auror Shacklebolt will apply the Veritaserum.” The clerk motioned to Kingsley Shacklebolt who came over with the small vial of clear liquid. He applied the three drops onto her tongue and watched until he was sure she was fully under the influence. He gave Allgood a quick nod of his head and Jason approached the chair as the clerk retreated back to his desk.

“Mrs Dursley, why did you agree to take in your nephew?”

“Because I was told to by Albus Dumbledore.”

“Why didn’t you say no, if you felt you couldn’t care for the boy like a parent?”

“Because he made it sound as if we were in danger if we didn’t take him in. The whelp was nothing but trouble from the first day, taking food from Diddikin’s mouth, placing a burden on our family, making us put up with his freakishness,” she stated. “I understood all too well what we were hiding him from; they killed our parents, for heaven’s sake! All because Lily was a witch. Dumbledore made it sound as if we would be next if we did not take the boy in and allow the wards to be placed on the house. So, I took him in. But Vernon and I swore we would not have any magic in the house, so we figured we would beat him down so much that it would disappear.” She had said all this in a monotone voice, devoid of most emotion.

“You say he took money and food from your son, and yet you were paid a substantial sum every month to feed and clothe Harry. What did you do with the stipend?”

“No amount of money would have been enough to recompense us for sheltering him.”

“I see, so you pocketed the money, used it for yourself or your son, and spent none on your nephew?”

”Of course not! He wasn’t worth spending the money on. He should have been grateful that we gave him what we did! He had a roof over his head, clothes to wear, and enough food to keep him alive. We made sure that he earned every piece of clothing he wore and every scrap of food he ate. We were trying to make him normal!” she insisted.

“Earn… so he worked for you?” Jason looked down at his notes before raising his eyes to meet hers.

“He did the chores…”

“And most of the cooking?”

“Of course, he had to…”

“Earn his keep,” the lawyer said with her. Jason paced for a few moments before deciding on his next line of enquiry.

“How did you punish Harry?”

“Withheld meals, more chores, locked in his room…”

“Room? You mean the broom cupboard, don’t you, Mrs Dursley?”

“Room. He fit in there, Dudley needed the fourth bedroom for his toys,” she explained as if to a child. A low murmur arose along the gallery seats and Mrs Weasley could be heard snorting in derision.

“I see, and how was he disciplined?”

“Vernon took care of that, I would lock Harry in his room until Vernon could deal with his misbehaviour. I’m sure it was well deserved, whatever punishment my husband mete out to the boy.”

“I see, so kicking, thrashing with belts and large, dangerous belt buckles, and breaking bones as well as sexual abuse were well deserved punishment?”

She looked affronted. “I have no idea what you are talking about, I never saw any of that!” The Wizengamot began murmuring amongst themselves. She must’ve been telling the truth, they saw the serum administered!

Jason looked at her in disbelief, until understanding dawned in his face. “Mrs Dursley, were you ever present when your husband disciplined Harry?”

“No, that was Vernon’s purview; I let him handle it. At times I heard the boy crying like a puling little baby, but he was always fine the next morning and able to do his chores.”

“Mrs Dursley, I am going to show you some pictures of your nephew, the night he was rescued from your home.” He Accio-ed a pile of photo’s that Poppy had taken prior to her and Severus healing Harry. He held the stack facing her and slowly filed through them, showing each one of them to her. Her facial structure never changed as she watched the pictures shuffle. “This, madam, is what your husband did to your nephew that evening. Was this deserved?”

“He lost Vernon a very prominent account; he deserved what he got. He’s a freak; he needed to be shown that we do not tolerate his abnormality. He has been nothing but trouble and a burden. His parents were abhorrent and so is he. He should have died when his parents did,” she declared. Then she turned as far as the chains would let her, letting her gaze fall on Severus. “It was all your fault, you know, Snape! If you hadn’t filled her head with all those tales when we were children, she wouldn’t have gone to that school and would have been normal, like me. But, no, you had to go and tell her all the wonderful things that magic could do, and look where it got her and my parents: Dead!” She whipped back around to face the barrister standing in front of her.

Severus took the verbal lashing with equanimity, holding Harry tighter as her vitriol dripped from her tongue in an attempt to drown him in guilt. He was already there – he didn’t need to hear it from his ex-sister-in-law.

“I see. You do realise, Mrs Dursley, that when your husband beat Harry nearly to death, and you did nothing to help your nephew, that the protection wards that protected you from harm, were destroyed. As a result, you are on trial for numerous charges of child abuse, and you no longer have a home on Privet Drive, as the very elements you were being protected from were able to infiltrate and destroy your home. The punishment for aiding and abetting an attempted murder is the Dementor’s kiss. You might think on how, if you had only treated your nephew as you did your son, your soul might not be in such jeopardy.” Jason turned sad eyes on the woman still seated regally in the seat in front of him, before walking back to his seat and sitting down.

Madam Winterveil stood up. “Mr Ragger, do you have any questions for your client?”

“No, ma’am.” He looked dejected; the Veritaserum was ripping his case to shreds.

“In that case, Aurors, take the prisoner away while we determine a verdict.” She set up a silencing charm that effectively blocked the gallery and the floor from hearing the councillor’s debate and vote.

Harry had sat quite still in his seat, ignoring Severus’ attempts to calm him, flinching every time he heard his aunt disparage him. He seemed to be totally unaware of the tears running down his face. Severus eventually picked the boy up and placed him in his lap, curling his arms around his son as the child hid his face in his dad’s robes and closed his eyes as silent tears continued to pour out of his eyes. Severus sent scathing looks over at Albus. He felt that Albus was to blame for placing his son with these hateful Muggles without ever checking on his welfare in person, and ignoring all the warning signs that Arabella had notified him about. Severus was more determined than ever that Dumbledore would have minimal contact with Harry. He had done enough harm as it was.

When the council cancelled the charm and had returned to their seats, Madam Winterveil gavelled for attention after standing up.

“Petunia Dursley, you have been found guilty of all charges. You are to be sent to Azkaban for a period of eleven years, one for each year of abuse and neglect towards your nephew, after which time you will have your soul removed by the Dementors. Aurors, remove the prisoner to Azkaban.”

Petunia stood stiffly as soon as the chair released her. The Aurors grabbed hold of her elbows and marched her from the room via another door that Harry had not noticed before. He had looked up as the verdict had been read, turning his head so he could watch the proceedings, but still clinging to his father’s chest. As she was led away, without even a backward glance toward where he was sitting, he felt a huge lump of grief rise in his throat. Letting out a choked sob, he sank back into the strong arms protecting him, hiding his face again.

“Harry?” his father asked, solicitously.

“She… she never loved me, did she?” came the whispered question.

“I don’t know, son. But I do love you, so does Draco and Minerva and Poppy – you have lots of people who love you for you, Harry. Never forget that. Your friends love you, and your true family loves you.” He tightened his hold on his boy, and felt grateful when he felt his son relax just a smidgen. He conjured a hanky and handed it to Harry so he could dry his eyes and blow his nose as the clerk ordered Vernon to be brought to the chair. “That’s it; sit up now and don’t let him have a hold on you. Remember, I am here to protect you.”

Vernon struggled against the Aurors as they marched him to the seat; at one point having to restrain him magically as he made a bid to escape and attack Harry. They had caught him quickly, but the damage had already been done, and Vernon smirked as he saw the whelp cringe in terror in his daddy’s lap. As they wrestled him in the chair he had caught the boy’s eyes for a moment and gave a sleazy rake with his eyes while licking his lips in a lascivious manner. He saw the boy shiver and laughed as his head was whipped around and three drops of a liquid was forced onto his tongue.

Shacklebolt watched as the eyes glazed over, and when he determined that Vernon was under the influence, nodded to Allgood, retreating to his station near the Prisoner’s gate, wand at the ready, where he could watch Dursley for any sudden moves.

“Mr Dursley, you are in quite a situation here. You are under trial for attempted murder, first and foremost, along with sharing in all the charges of which your wife was just convicted. Are you aware of the consequences of your actions?”

“I was protecting my family from his unnatural behaviour. We didn’t want him; he was nothing but a bother, stealing from my son, and a burden on all of us. But he was decent with the chores and could cook a decent meal when he put what little mind he had to the task.”

“Did you ever let him share in the meals?”

“Of course not, he was a worthless piece of trash – not worth wasting the food I had spent my hard earned cash on. That was for my family, not unwanted lay-abouts.”

“Hard earned cash? May it please the court, I have details as to Mr Dursley’s wages he earned whilst employed at a Muggle factory, as well as the amount he received each month from Dumbledore to defray the cost of Harry’s upkeep while in the home. As you can see,” he pointed out as he conjured duplicates in front of every court member, “the stipend was more than he was paid each month at his regular job. The Dursleys were living off of Harry rather than the other way around.” He had turned to Vernon on this last statement and Vernon only smiled viciously at him.

“Well, he caused us more trouble than Dudley ever did,” he declared. “And my son was constantly afraid of him and his weirdness, as were we all. I had to beat normalcy into him.”

“Ah, is that what you call what you did on July thirtieth? Beating the normalcy into him?”

“Of course! That boy is vile and a waste of space; he was the death of his parents and we were making damn sure he would never be the cause of our deaths. We were too good for him, if truth be told. I was all for just leaving him in the street somewhere, didn’t want his kind around my son – what would the neighbours think if they ever found out he was a murdering freak? But Petunia insisted we had to keep him; some such claptrap about weirds and things.”

“Wards?” suggested Jason.

“Possibly, I wasn’t paying much attention.”

Jason decided to hurry the proceedings along, after sneaking a look back towards his client. Harry was breathing too quickly, moving his lips silently, and Severus had a death hold on the boy, glaring at the prisoner with such venom in his eyes that he was surprised Dursley was not dead yet. Ragger had slumped in his chair after throwing up his hands as his client had quickly and decisively built a hole so large, there was no way he would get out alive.

Jason took a huge breath and looked over at Harry. Harry had finally gone quiet as he listened to his uncle’s testimony. He had curled into as small a ball as was possible, next to Severus.

“If the court would excuse me a moment, I need to have a word with my client.” Winterveil nodded her assent and he quickly walked back to the table and approached McDonald.

“Whit, my next line of inquiry will be into the sexual abuse. I don’t think it would be a good idea for the boy to be here for that. We’re done with his statements, in any case.”

Whitney agreed with the advice and leaned over to Snape. “They are about to start the section on the abuse. I think it’s time Harry goes home. I’ll come over and let you know the verdicts.”

Severus agreed and, after coaxing his son to stand, walked the two of them out of the courtroom and back to Hogwarts. Whitney nodded to Jason, who had returned to standing in front of Dursley, that the coast was clear.

Jason Allgood cleared his throat before returning to his questioning. “Mr Dursley, did you use your nephew as a sexual release?”

“Yeah, I like ‘em young and tight,” he grinned. “Pet kept giving me excuses: headaches and that time of the month, so I decided to use the boy. Don’t let him fool you, he liked it – they always like it. Loved it when I would whip him first and then fuck him. The screams were delightful. He owed it to me! He was the reason Petunia stopped servicing me, so he had to pick up the slack!” he leered again over towards his nephew, and was surprised to see that the boy wasn’t there. He frowned, he was sure the boy had just been there. The gallery had exploded in outrage at Dursley’s statement, and Arthur Weasley was seen physically restraining his fire-headed wife, casting a silencing charm on her with a slight apologetic shrug of his shoulders towards the court. Winterveil was sympathetic and wished she could have vented like the Uber-mother.

Jason let the uproar die down before he continued with the questioning, covering the night Harry was rescued and various other incidents just to be thorough, but enough had been said already.

****

Severus took Harry home, Poppy following after, and they placed Harry in Severus’ bedroom, tucking him in after spelling a few draughts into his stomach. Whitney showed up an hour later to give them the results of the trial.

“Pushed through the veil after a Dementor’s kiss. Jason and I stayed and watched to make sure the sentence was carried out. The entire courtroom was placed under an oath not to reveal the contents of the trial and Harry’s abuse, so the details should not end up in the papers. I’m sorry Severus, we should have sent Harry out of there sooner. How is he?”

“Still unconscious. I can’t get through to him at all – even with our growing bond. Merlin, that man is vicious!” he ranted, raking his fingers through his hair in agitation.

He laid a gentle hand on Harry’s head then led Whitney out to the lounge area, closing the door until only a crack of dark shown around the edge. He wanted to be able to hear if Harry needed him. He went over to his liquor cabinet, unlocking it with a wave of his hand and pouring out two snifters worth of brandy. He handed one to Whitney and sat in his favourite chair, staring into the glasses contents, watching the light reflect in the dark amber depths.

“Whit, how far is this going to set him back?” he asked the child psychologist.

Whitney took a sip before answering the older man. “I won’t deny it is going to be a setback for him. I think he had us all convinced he would be able to handle the confrontation better than he did; however, we also weren’t taking into account Dursley’s sheer maniacal pleasure in torturing Harry, blaming him for everything that went wrong in their life.

“We rarely see a pathology, such as his, in the wizarding world; not that it doesn’t exist – but it is quite rare. It is much more common in the Muggle world, for some reason. These types of paedophiles, such as Dursley, tend to find each other and share their obsession, passing around the victims among each other. What is surprising is that Dursley acted alone, only used Harry, never shared him. Perhaps he felt that as Harry was his ‘property’, only he should be allowed to torment the child. We shall never know – nor do I really want to. The amount I do know is daunting on its own.

“At this point the only thing we can do, Severus, is just to continue with the therapies that we had started; continue to tell him, and show him, how much we care for him and eventually that shell will crack once again. He will probably not want to be touched for awhile – perhaps just you and your godson – but don’t refrain from punishment if he acts up; he’ll eventually want to test the waters, see how far you are willing to go. You need to set the boundaries and stick to them. He told me last week that you had originally set those boundaries when he first moved in – how are they holding?”

“We haven’t had any disasters with them. The worst punishment the boys have had is cleaning cauldrons and preparing ingredients, other than an occasional mouth washing. I…” He broke off as Draco came bounding through the door, book bag swinging from his shoulder.

“Where is he? What happened?” he asked breathlessly, pale eyes flicking between the two older men.

“Draco, sit down,” Severus commanded.

“Uncle Sev, I want to see him!” he insisted, pouting slightly at being denied.

“Draco,” Severus growled in warning. The blond gave him a look then plopped down on the divan, dropping his bag to the floor next to him.

“Harry is asleep in my room. I don’t want you disturbing him. He had a very bad reaction to the trial; he learnt that his relatives truly didn’t want him, and in fact hated his mere existence. I think he knew that, intellectually, but he was forced to acknowledge it emotionally as he heard it come out under Veritaserum. It was just too much for him. Add to that, his uncle tried to come after him in the courtroom several times, scaring him.”

“What was the verdict?”

“His cousin is in reform school, and will be on probation afterwards for quite some time; his aunt got eleven years in Azkaban with a kiss at the end, and his uncle was kissed right after the trial and sent through the veil.”

“Good!” Draco said viciously. “Uncle, please – I’ll be really quiet, I just need to see him for myself!”

Severus sighed. He was glad the boys were bonding, but sometimes Draco got very possessive. “All right, brat, go check on your brother – but don’t you dare wake him up!” The boy bounced up in glee, beaming at his godfather as he headed towards the man’s bedroom.

“I won’t! Thanks!”

Draco gently pushed open the door and let the light from the lounge spill across the large four-poster bed that took up most of the room’s square footage. He could hear Severus and Mr McDonald talking in low voices behind him, but he was fully concentrated on his friend.

He eased himself past the door, closing it quietly behind him, and walked up to the bed where he could take a look at his brother for himself. He studied the small face, reposed in sleep, taking in the messy shoulder length hair that so resembled Severus’. The duvet was tucked up under his chin and he had it clutched around his scrunched up body in a death grip.

Just as Draco reached out a hand to push back some hair that had fallen in Harry’s face, Harry let out a huge sigh and opened his eyes. He shook his head to move the offending lock, and caught sight of the other boy.

“Hey,” Harry said as he began to uncurl and force himself to sit-up.

“Hey, yourself. How do you feel? Uncle Sev said you didn’t do too well at the trial.” He sat down on the end of the bed as Harry drew his knees up to his chest in his customary guarded position, and wrapped his arms tight around them.

“I, uh, did alright until Vernon came out. It was really hard to hear Aunt Petunia say she’d never wanted me, but then Uncle Vernon…” he whispered, shaking his head.

“I understand,” Draco said, reaching out to touch his brother, but Harry skittered back against the headboard.

“Sorry, I just don’t want anyone touching me right now, alright?” came the quiet explanation. Harry’s green eyes were wide with fear, barely held in check.

“Merlin, if he wasn’t dead already – I’d kill him!” Draco exclaimed.

“He’s dead?” Harry couldn’t believe that it was over. How could it be over?

“Yes, son, he’s dead.” Severus had entered the room, unheard by either boy, and was followed by Whitney.

Draco was immediately on his feet. “I didn’t wake, him Uncle Sev, I swear!”

“I know, Dragon. I felt him awaken along our bond.” He stopped and gave Draco’s shoulder a pat before continuing on.

He walked around the bed to sit on the other side and Harry hesitated a moment before letting his father lay a comforting arm over his shoulders. After a moment, Harry looked up at his advocate.

“I’m sorry…” he started.

“What for, Harry?”

“For breaking down in court. I thought I could handle it… I just wanted it over…”

“Harry, that was not your fault. Anyone faced with that would have reacted just the same. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did. But it’s over now, he can no longer get to you, and you will never see your aunt again, either.” Harry nodded before leaning his head on his father’s shoulder.

Whitney motioned to Draco that it was time to leave. “Draco, let’s leave Harry alone for now with Severus. He needs to get more sleep. You may return tomorrow, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” said Draco a bit reluctantly, but he got up anyway and after giving his godfather a hug and giving his brother an encouraging smile, he left the bedroom, walking past Whitney, who held the door open for him.

“Severus, I’ll be by tomorrow morning to check on Harry. I’ll see Draco and myself out.”

“Thank you, Whitney,” Severus responded gratefully. After the two other Slytherins left his room, he scooted himself closer to Harry and began carding his hand through the teen’s hair. “Do you want to talk at all?”

Harry just shook his head.

“I understand; you don’t have to say anything, just take your time. Whitney has assured me that nothing will be reported tomorrow. Do you want to take tomorrow off? You can, but it might just leave you brooding.”

“I don’t know. I just feel wrung out, Dad.” He was silent for a little longer. “How… how could they feel that way? What did I do to them? Am I that bad of a person? I used to try anything to get them to approve of me – just give me some praise; but if I made good grades, I was horrible for showing up Dudders, and if I did poorly, it just verified to them that I was a stupid, good for nothing freak. I just don’t understand. Nothing I ever did satisfied them.” He sniffed for a moment and started to wipe his face on his pyjama sleeve, but Severus halted that movement and handed him a handkerchief instead.

“Manners, son – even when we are alone,” he chided softly.

“Yes, Dad.” Harry wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “I think I just want to sleep, I’m not even hungry. I’ll just head off to my bed…” He made to get out from under the covers, but Severus held him back.

“Sleep here, son. I don’t mind, and this way I can monitor you. I think a dose of Dreamless sleep is required and I shall let you skip this meal, but you must eat tomorrow.” Harry agreed to this readily and drank down the vial of potion that his father had summoned then let the man settle him back under the covers. Severus sat down on the side of the bed, running a loving hand along his son’s head and down along his back, soothing the boy off to sleep. Within minutes, Harry’s breathing had evened out and he was oblivious to everything around him.

Severus walked out to the lounge, and was startled to see Draco still there.

“Aren’t you supposed to be up in the Great Hall for dinner?” he asked, retaking his seat in front of the floo.

“Not hungry. I’m worried about him, Uncle Sev.”

“As am I, Draco,” he admitted. “However, as Mr McDonald correctly pointed out, we need to show Harry that people really do care for, and love, him. With time, hopefully, he will heal enough to realise that. As you know, you can’t completely heal from injuries such as these – oh, the visible scars can be removed, or hidden, but the emotional scars take a long time to lessen in their pain. We have to be there for him, when he eventually reaches out. We had made such progress over the last few weeks, and this has just set him back. Can you be patient with him?” he asked his godson seriously.

“Of course I can.”

“That’s all I ask. Now, it is time you head off to your dorm – I know you haven’t finished my essay for tomorrow, have you?” The momentary panic that showed on the young Slytherin’s face was answer enough for the stern professor. “Then, off you go.” He shooed his godson out the door and watched until the boy disappeared around the corner that led to the Slytherin common room.

Sometime in the night, Harry had awoken – a little confused as to where he was – but soon the rhythmic breathing of his father laying next to him reassured him and, after placing his back up against his father’s, letting the warmth seep into – and comfort – him, he was soon back asleep.

****

The next morning Harry arose to the smells of bacon and coffee wafting past his nose. His father had already left the bed and had apparently ordered breakfast instead of heading up to the Great Hall. He fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and after putting them on, grabbed his dressing gown, slid his feet into his slippers and headed out to the lounge, shrugging the robe over his shoulders and leaving the ties to dangle loosely from the belt loops.

Severus was sitting at the table, with a copy of the Prophet in his one hand while sipping coffee with the other. He was already washed, shaved and dressed for classes, only needing to don his teaching robes, which hung near Salazar’s portrait.

“‘Morning, Severus,” Harry mumbled as he slumped into his chair and began measuring out his potion into his juice before serving himself some breakfast from the still steaming servers.

Severus lowered the paper to look at his dishevelled son. “Is it good? I’m not sure, looking at you,” he said, concerned.

“I guess I’m still a bit depressed about yesterday.” He looked up from where he had been fiddling with his eggs, not really eating them as much as shredding them. “Is he really gone for good?”

“Yes, Harry, he is,” the older man reassured him. “Whit told me last night he watched as they had him kissed by the Dementors and pushed through the veil.”

“What’s the veil?”

“A chamber down in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry. It is a very ancient portal that leads to the underworld – never to return. The Ministry was built over this bit of otherworld magic; it has been there since before Merlin’s time – no one quite knows where it came from. However, they do know that anyone who goes through it, dies. It has been used as the death penalty for wizarding Britain for centuries,” he explained.

Harry mulled over this while finally taking a few bites of his breakfast. “I guess – I guess I can’t quite believe he’s finally gone, that I don’t have to ever worry about being sent back there, or look over my shoulder wondering if he’s going to ambush me. I should be happy, but I’m not. Why is that?” he wondered.

“I’m sure it has to do somewhat with relief and the fact that you haven’t quite internalised the knowledge. It will take awhile, son, trust me – I know.” He opened the paper again as if to return to his reading.

“How?” Harry asked after a moment.

“Hmm?” Severus answered distractedly. He had spotted an article in the Potions Weekly column on the newfound properties of Dragon Lichen, which was only found in the dragon preserves of Romania.

“How do you know?” Harry insisted, dropping his fork on his plate. “How do you know I will be better and that I’ll eventually be okay with this. …” He waved his hand in the air to indicate the entirety of his situation from yesterday.

Severus gazed over at his son for a moment before folding his paper back up and setting it down beside his breakfast plate. “Because, I went through much the same feelings when my father was killed in a dockside brawl, soon after I left Hogwarts. He abused me much like your uncle did to you – although without the rape. His specialty was his belt and his fist. With people like that, who have treated you as dirt or lower, you should not be expected to have to feel much regret at their demise. I mourned what my father had been – when he had first married my mother - but not what he became; I had no compassion for that.”

Harry had totally abandoned his breakfast in favour of studying the worn-down stones of the floor beneath his feet. “Then it’s alright to feel what I do? Because, in a way, I’m glad he died, as he won’t be coming after me! Isn’t that wrong? Shouldn’t I feel some sort of remorse?” His haunted eyes sought out his father’s, and Severus felt a renewed sense of protectiveness and love for this child of his.

“No, Harry, it isn’t wrong. You can feel sorry for them, that they were so prejudiced and small minded that they couldn’t see what a wonderful child you are, and how special you have been and shall be. That was their loss. You can feel sorry for that – but don’t try to look for feelings for them that you don’t have, they don’t deserve the consideration. You are not a bad person for feeling this way – just very normal.” He tapped the table to send the food back to the kitchens.

“Dudley’s probably going to hate me now, he’ll blame me for tearing his family apart. He’s essentially an orphan now…”

“Yes, he is. However, you are not to blame, Harry. Your aunt and uncle, and Dudley, chose to treat you the way they did. They wrought their own rewards for that – not you. You suffered their tyranny and abuse; you are not to blame. Perhaps, instead of blaming you, your cousin will learn that such actions have consequences; serious consequences.”

“I can only hope,” Harry said quietly. Severus came over and gently drew his son into a hug, letting the boy linger there a moment. He felt along the bond that they both drew strength from the simple act of compassion and love. He resolved that they should do this more often. He eventually let go with a squeeze to Harry’s shoulders as he looked into his son’s eyes.

“Do you want to go to class today?”

“Not yet. Tomorrow,” Harry explained.

“Alright, why don’t you go get ready for the day; Whitney will be here at ten o’clock to check on you and then we shall have lunch together. Draco will probably be by this afternoon with your missed lessons from yesterday and today.” He laid a hand on top of his son’s tousled head. “I’ll see you at lunch, I need to go prepare for the second-year Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff class, they’ll be arriving shortly.”

He was startled as Harry suddenly threw his arms around the man’s waist, giving him another huge hug. He was momentarily startled, throwing his arms outward, but soon they were returning the affection.

“Thank you, Dad,” came the muffled response from his son. He patted the boy on the back for a moment then managed to disengage himself. “You’re welcome, Harry. I only do what any normal father would do for their son.”

Harry laughed; the sound was music to his father’s ears. “Dad, we are anything but normal! I can talk to snakes! That is not normal!”

“But a very useful skill to have, as we’ve found out. Now go take a shower, brat, whilst I go teach.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, heading towards his room. Severus shook his head and gave the password to Salazar as he grabbed his teaching robes off their hook.

“He’ll be right as rain with time, Severus,” commented the portrait as it opened for the Potions Master.

“I hope so, Sal, I truly do hope so,” he said with quiet conviction as he aimed one last look at the retreating form of his son before closing the portrait hole behind him.

****

Harry wandered around his father’s rooms that day, a bit bored really, but unwilling to face the students just yet. He had read the paper after he had washed and dressed and was pleased to discover that there was no mention of his relative’s crimes and trials, and the furore had died down from the revelation of him being the son of a supposed Death Eater – although Dumbledore had been quoted as saying that Snape hadn’t been a Death Eater since 1979; instead, he had been working as a spy. That had put the cat amongst the pigeons, as Hermione had said. The dirty looks Harry and Severus had received from the majority of the Slytherin’s had been murderous after that had been revealed. Harry’s two worst ambushes last week had occurred after then.

But Severus had maintained his stoicism, and still held an iron hand over his house. He constantly cast revealing charms on his food to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, and it appeared as if he had developed eyes in the back of his head – more so than normal – as no one was able to ambush him.

No, Harry was more worried for Draco than Severus. The boys had been seen together the previous weekend and it was obvious to nearly everyone in Gryffindor and Slytherin that hostilities had ceased. Draco said he had told everyone that Severus was forcing his son and godson to get along. This seemed to work for now, but Harry wasn’t sure how long they’d be able to maintain that fiction.

He had spoken to Whitney for about an hour and his dad had joined them for lunch. He was glad he could talk to Whitney, it helped to get things off of his chest – and the advocate had reassured him, just as Severus had that morning, that what Harry was feeling was perfectly fine considering the situation. He had also apologised again for not getting Harry out of the courtroom sooner – which Harry had waved off. He didn’t blame anyone for that; who could ever predict what Vernon would do or say. He’d lived with the man for eleven years and he still had been able to startle Harry.

After lunch Harry headed back to his room to start some reading for later in the week, leaving the adults to talk for a few moments.

“Well, Whitney?” Severus asked.

“I think he’ll eventually do fine, Severus. I would like to see him once a week for a while, perhaps in the evenings? We can have them down here to make him more comfortable. I notice he still flinches some – that will pass. Just keep showing you love him, that’s the best medicine for him. So, when should I show up next week?” he asked as Severus walked him over to the door, collecting his cloak from the back of the couch on the way.

Severus considered his and Harry’s schedule both before answering. “How about Sunday nights, say seven o’clock?” he suggested.

“That will be fine. I’ll see all of you on Sunday evening, then.” He swirled his cloak on and headed out the door.

Severus walked back to his son’s bedroom to check on him, knocking on the opened door to announce his arrival. Harry looked up with a shy smile from where he was studying at his desk.

“I just wanted to let you know that Mr McDonald will be coming by, for the foreseeable future, on Sunday evening’s at seven. You’ll be meeting him here. Also, Draco has orders to gather your class assignments today for you, so he should be here sometime after three. Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No, I’m going to finish my reading, then take a nap – I’m still tired after yesterday.”

“Alright, I’ll see you this evening. I want you to stay one more night, then you may return to the tower tomorrow after classes.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No thanks are necessary, Harry, this is your home,” Severus stated, receiving a beaming smile in return before he left his child to his own devices for the afternoon.

****

“C’mon, Snape, wake up!”

“Oomph!” was Harry’s response as his brother landed on him and began tickling him awake. “Draco - ha, ha – stop that! I can’t breathe!” Harry wheezed from under the covers. He was laughing so hard he couldn’t get a full breath. Draco finally let up, with a pillow thrown at Harry’s head, and Harry untangled himself from the sheets, reaching for his glasses.

“What’s the big idea, waking me up with a wrestling match?” He glowered at his brother, doing an excellent imitation of his father.

“Uncle Severus told me to wake you up if you were asleep when I came in,” Draco defended. “That just seemed the easiest way.”

“Prat! All right, I guess since I’m awake you may as well hand me my assignments.” Draco dug around in his bag as they headed out to the large round table in the lounge where a bit of afternoon tea already awaited them. “I can’t stay too long, practice starts in an hour. But I can explain things to you, if you need it…” he offered.

“Thanks, Draco.” And Harry meant it, too. Draco handed the dark haired boy the stack of homework assignments from the professors and they bent their heads over it. This was how Severus found them an hour later when he came in after his last class.

“Draco? Don’t you have…” he began.

“Practice! Merlin’s beard! See you later, Harry!” He grabbed his books and bag and ran out of his head’s rooms ignoring the snickering from Harry behind him.

Severus just shook his head at his godson’s antics then headed for his home desk where he set down his stack of essays and quizzes and went over to check on his son’s homework.

“Do you have any questions about the classes you missed?”

Harry looked up from Draco’s notes. “No, Draco takes good notes – I should be fine tomorrow. No essays are due, other than yours – but I turned that in to you on Sunday; there is a quiz in Transfiguration – but I know the material. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, I’ll just start some marking and we’ll have dinner in an hour – unless you wish to eat upstairs?” he asked hopefully, but was disappointed when Harry shook his head. But he couldn’t fault his son’s reason.

“I just want one last night with you, Dad.”

“Then we shall have it. Now get back to work.”

“Yes, sir!” came the grinning response and the two Snapes both bent over their work for the rest of the afternoon.

****

Draco had come back from practice worn out, dirty and wet, and Severus had sent the boy to the shower before letting him sit down to dinner. Harry didn’t mind having Draco spend the night as well, he was getting used to having the young Slytherin around now, and it wouldn’t feel like a family meal without him. So, he and Severus waited patiently for an extra ten minutes before Draco emerged from their bedroom, impeccably dressed and hair dry and slicked back. Harry just shook his head ruefully at his god-brother and joined his family at the table.

“So why were you so wet?” Harry asked, but his question was answered when a rolling bit of thunder finally made it’s way through the thick walls of the castle and into the dungeons. Draco just held up his fork, pointing at the ceiling at the same time. “I get it,” Harry said, grinning.

Draco swallowed his food first before speaking. “It started raining mid-way through practice, Flint refused to call us inside.”

“Wood’s the same way,” Harry commented. “The guy is a fanatic – wants us out there no matter what the weather; says it prepares us for anything.”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed. “So, that’s how I got wet – then I saw the Snitch and followed it… all the way to the ground. It skimmed along the top of the grass and as I caught it, my foot caught on something in the ground and I ended up pitching off my broom into the mud.”

“But you caught the Snitch?” Harry asked pointedly.

Draco grinned at his brother. “Of course! And kept it through the fall.”

Harry nodded, satisfied with the answer as he served himself some gateau for pudding. “Then that’s all that counts,” he declared. Draco nodded in agreement. “But I’m still going to beat you during our game next month,” Harry added, smirking.

“In your dreams, Snape…” Draco murmured.

Severus just rolled his eyes to himself, but kept quiet.

Draco ended up spending the night, and the two boys departed Severus’ rooms early in the morning to head up to the Great Hall for breakfast, managing to skirt an attack by Peeves on some unsuspecting Hufflepuff first years.

The boys were brought up short, however, by Theodore Nott; flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Well, well, well gentlemen, what do we have here? Draco palling around with Potter? Tell me, Draco, you were planning to hex him weren’t you? You aren’t friends with him are you? That’s what the Weasle inferred the other day at lunch: said he saw you two being mates down at the gamekeepers hovel.”

Draco put on his best pureblood manners and looked down at his dorm mates. “So what if I am, Nott? He’s our Head’s son – and his name is Snape, not Potter, if you haven’t noticed.”

“A traitor’s son, Malfoy,” Nott spat out.

“My Godfather is NOT a traitor, Nott!” Draco said at the same time Harry retorted that his father was not a traitor, as well.

“He supports Potter–Snape, he’s a traitor. And so are you, Draco, if you continue hanging out with him!”

Harry had his wand already in hand and was getting ready to hex Nott, but Draco placed his hand over Harry’s and pushed it back down.

“He’s not worth it, Harry,” Draco said, sneering at Nott. “I know which side I’m supporting and it isn’t my father’s, nor the Dark Lord’s, should he ever come back. Let’s go.” He grabbed Harry’s forearm and started to lead him away but a movement he caught, in the corner of his eye, caused him to push Harry away from the incoming hex, and raise his wand in a low-grade protection charm.

Harry fetched up against the wall, but spun around to find his brother exchanging hexes and jinxes with the three other second-years. He pushed himself off the wall and stood next to Draco joining him in the counter-attack. With the new spells Severus had taught them, they were able to quickly disarm the other Slytherins, but not before Professor McGonagall had caught the fight.

Minerva had come down the grand staircase just in time to hear the boys yelling that Severus was not a traitor. She turned the corner as the first hex was thrown, and she caught Harry and Draco facing off the other three boys, and winning; but rules are rules and she had to intervene.

“Potter-Snape, Mr Malfoy! And you three! Come with me at once!” Without looking to see if they followed, she led the miscreants to her office. She made Harry and Draco stand to one side of her desk and Nott, Crabbe and Goyle on the other. She walked slowly around the desk to sit in her comfortable, old-leather chair, peering over her glasses at the set of three Slytherins.

“You deliberately hexed a student, Mr Nott – behind their backs. Not very sporting of you, was it? You know the rules, Mr Nott: no spell work in the hallways. Ten points each will be taken from your house hourglasses and, Mr Nott, you and Mssrs Crabbe and Goyle will be serving detention with Professor Snape tomorrow night – you are dismissed.” She waited until the three had closed the door behind them before turning to the two in front of her.

“Have a seat boys, have you eaten yet? No?” She headed to the floo and, after throwing a pinch of powder into the fire, called down to the kitchens for a breakfast for three. Harry and Draco sat in numbed silence.

“Now, I have to take the points, gentlemen – and I have to give you a warning.” She smirked at them over her glasses. “There, you’ve had your warning. Now eat up,” she said as the steaming hot plates of food appeared on her desk. The three of them dug in, enjoying the meal.

“Now, Harry, are you planning on returning to classes today?” the professor asked as she sipped her tea. Harry nodded, mouth still full of toast. “Good, best to get back to a normal routine. You received all your homework last night? Well done, Draco; five points to Slytherin for helping a fellow student. You’d best be getting to classes now – I’ll see you later today.”

Before the boys knew it, they had been fed, watered and turned out of the room faster than you could say Firebolt. They shrugged at each other in utter bewilderment and headed off towards class.

Harry slowly got back into his normal routine: attending classes, practicing Quidditch, doing homework, and dodging hexes from the Slytherins; but some things had changed, and Harry thought they had changed for the better. He had a father who loved him, a new friend in his god-brother, and he no longer was bottom in potions.

Every Sunday Whitney came by for dinner in the Snape rooms and then he sat Harry and Draco down for some group and then individual therapy. The boys were slowly coming to term with their past abuse and Whitney was proud of their progress. He especially liked the fact that they had each made their own vow to stop being victims, face the abuse and begin to stare it down. It would still be a long time before he could declare that the scars on their souls were no longer open and bleeding, but the path was before them and they could see the light at the end of it. Both boys had strong characters and were very resilient in nature, whether they realised it or not, and they would recover. Having each other to lean on helped tremendously.

Harry was able to relax in his tower with most of his friends. Ron was simply ignoring him, but not being outright hostile. Harry missed the boy’s friendship, but he managed to get on without it. Instead he studied voraciously with Hermione, helped Neville and played games with Dean and Seamus, who had declared a truce after Neville’s retaliation. The twins were still pulling pranks on unsuspecting students and their favourite targets were the second-year Slytherin’s – although Draco was considered off-limits for the more vicious pranks. They still would pull an occasional funny one on him, just for laughs and he was a good sport about it, most of the time. They had whispered once to Harry that if Neville hadn’t taken care of the problem during their first week, they had been prepared to prank the other three themselves – in the Great Hall at dinner the next evening. Harry was glad that hadn’t come to pass; sometimes the twin’s pranks bordered on nasty.

Harry also kept an eye on the youngest Weasley, Ginny. She didn’t seem to be making many friends in her year – although a young Muggle-born, Colin Creevey, seemed to have a bit of a crush on her. Of course he also had a case of hero-worship for Harry, and Harry found himself trying to escape the younger boy’s ever-present camera. But the girl was quiet and kept to herself most of the time, writing in an old diary she carried around with her when not doing homework. In the meantime, Gertrude was keeping quiet and almost everyone had passed off the two attacks as flukes.

Some nights, Harry would use his cloak and sneak out of the dorm to meet up with Draco and they would start exploring the castle after curfew. Many times they had close calls with Filch, but the cloak seemed to protect them. Once they nearly had a heart attack after almost running straight into Dumbledore and Severus. They had to flatten themselves up against the wall and hold their hands over their mouths so no sound escaped. Harry was sure, though, that Dumbledore knew they were there as he had shot a twinkling look in their direction as he had passed. The boys waited until the two older wizards were past, then returned quickly to their dormitories. They cut down their explorations to maybe once a week after that adventure.

Quidditch was also gearing up, and the week before the Gryffindor/Slytherin game was one of the worst for Harry. Slytherins had ramped up their attacks to include the entire Gryffindor squad, but saved their most vicious attacks for Harry. On Friday that week, after Herbology, Harry had been pinned to the wall from a well-placed hex and left dangling there. The deadly trio – as he and Draco had named Nott’s gang – had laughed all the way towards the entrance to the dungeons on their way to potions. Harry had managed to mutter the activation phrase to the Portkey that was hanging under his shirt against his skin, and was whisked away to his room.

Severus banged open the door a moment later, muttering a Finite under his breath, as he took in his son’s condition.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, Dad – just a bit bruised. Merlin, I’ll be glad when this game is over!” Harry said as he scrambled off his bed, book bag swinging in his hand.

“You and me both! Who was it this time?” Severus asked as they headed toward the lounge area.

“Dad, I’m not going to squeal… it’ll just make things worse. I just want to get to class. The look on their faces when I’m sitting there before them will make it worth it.” This statement, of course, clarified the identity of the perpetrators for Severus, but he just nodded. They headed out through Salazar’s portrait and cut through Severus’ office where Harry gingerly took his seat, the first student there. The look on the trio’s faces when they arrived was well worth it.

Severus had been looking for the reaction and smirked in satisfaction, and since the three were abysmal potion makers, he delighted in making their afternoon especially hellish. Draco looked askance at first his Godfather, and then his brother, not knowing what had happened – but Harry shook his head, concentrating on their potion instead. He would explain later.

****

The game day dawned bright and chilly, frost gilding the edges of the grass, and the slates on the roofs of the castle. The trees seemed to be putting on an especially colourful show for the Gryffindor spectators, flashing their fall colours of red and gold, with touches of orange sprinkled amongst them.

Harry had slipped down to breakfast early, not able to stay asleep any longer. His stomach was roiling in anticipation of his first game of the season and he ended up just picking at his bowl of oatmeal. He was looking forward, and also not looking forward, to his coming test of skills against his god-brother, and it just increased the amount of acid in his stomach. He eventually gave it up as a lost cause, grabbed some toast and his broom and headed out to sit on a rock near the lake until game time. He shredded the toast, instead of eating it, and threw pieces of it absentmindedly to the Giant Squid who was languishing in the shallows, while contemplating the game ahead.

He eventually entered the team locker room to find it in an uproar.

“What’s going on?” he asked the twins.

“Wood found out that the Slytherin’s all have new brooms, Nimbus two thousand and ones,” Fred answered.

“Where’d they get them from?” Harry asked as he began to lace up his Quidditch vest and pull on his pads and gloves.

“Funny you should ask that,” said George, conspiratorially. “Apparently from Malfoy senior.”

Harry gawked at the older boy. “You’ve got to be joking!”

“Nope, they arrived this morning at breakfast and Wood’s all in a dither since this throws his strategies right out the window. It’s all up to you, Harriekins,” Fred pointed out. And sure enough, as Harry was pulling on the last of his Quidditch uniform, Woods was at his side, jabbering a mile a minute, giving last minute instructions to his smallest, but keenest weapon.

Finally, though, Harry’d had enough. “Oliver, I get it! Get the Snitch or die trying!” he growled to his leader.

“Well, not die…” the captain hedged. The twins just snorted as they walked past, on their way to the starting platform. Harry brushed his captain off, grabbed his broom and stormed off after the redheads. Woods could really annoy him at times with his fanaticism.

Madame Hooch blew the whistle and the teams flew off their platforms into the cheering crowds, taking a couple of laps around the field while the announcer, Lee Jordan, listed off the team rosters. Harry felt the rush of adrenaline that always came when a game started. It pushed away his annoyance with his captain, his worry over competing against his god-brother, and replaced it with eager anticipation instead. He felt good, and the smile on his face showed it. He nodded to Draco across the circle as they waited for the balls to be released, and Draco smiled back, then they both returned their concentration to the centre field.

Hooch now stood in the centre of the field, hand on her own broom, and released the balls with a kick to the trunk, causing a mad scramble for possession of the Quaffle before mounting her own trusty conveyance. Harry looked around for the snitch, flying circles around the top of the action. He spotted Draco doing the same thing on the other side of the pitch. They gave a quick nod to each other before resuming their searches.

A glint of gold caught his eye and he dived for it before realising it was someone’s watch glinting in the rapidly overcast sky. Unfortunately this brought him closer to the other players and he had to swerve to avoid a Bludger that nearly parted his hair for him. George managed to catch the ball and gave it a mighty whack with his bat that should have aimed it at a Slytherin chaser, but it reversed direction midway and headed back towards Harry instead.

Harry rolled over on his broom in a classic sloth grip, and came back up only to find the ball heading for him again.

This time it was Fred who blocked the ball, attempting to send it elsewhere, only to have the ball whip back around toward the small, black-haired seeker. While this was going on, Slytherin was scoring points on Gryffindor and were soon up by sixty, to the general groans from those wearing red and gold.

Harry tried to search for the Snitch while the twins ran interference, but it was impossible. To add insult to injury – it began to rain. At one point Draco flew by his brother and gave him a searching look.

“Snape, what in Merlin’s name is going on?”

“Wish I knew – that Bludger is acting bewitched! It keeps coming after me… WATCH OUT!”

Draco swerved just in time to avoid the rogue ball, which Fred hit off in to the nether reaches again.

“Don’t expect me to save your arse again, Malfoy!” the twin yelled as he got back into his self-appointed guard position.

“This isn’t much of a game, Harry!” the blond complained.

“Tell me about it! Gotta go!” Harry ducked as the iron ball came back. He and the twins flew around the pitch some more until Wood called a time out.

“What the hell is going on?” he yelled when the team gathered in a corner.

“It’s that Bludger, Oliver, it’s acting like it’s hexed,” George yelled back over the sound of the rainstorm.

“It can’t be, Hooch has had the balls since our last practice. They’ve been locked up in her office,” Wood explained.

“That may be, but it’s acting like it’s been hexed now. Maybe we should call the game – it keeps going after Harry, I think it’s trying to kill him!” Fred added.

“We can’t call the game…” Oliver started, but Harry cut him off while trying to dry off his glasses on his jersey.

“Look, this isn’t working with Fred and George guarding me. I need to just find the Snitch and get it over with – and I can’t do it with them flitting around me.”

“Flit? Do we ‘Flit’ Forge?” One twin looked over at his counterpart in mock concern.

“I think we’ve just been told that we do, Gred…” and the boys began flapping their hands at shoulder height until the girls hit them across the back of their heads. Harry smirked.

“I’m not kidding guys, I can outfly that thing – but not with you around me,” he explained.

“Harry, that thing is out to murder you! You can’t go back out there!” George said before turning on their captain. “You would have to insist he catch the Snitch ‘or die trying’, didn’t you? It’s your fault he has this attitude!”

But the captain ignored his beater, and instead Oliver gave Harry a keen look before nodding his head. “Alright, Snape, but you better catch that ball! And quickly!” he added as he spotted Madam Hooch heading in their direction and raising the whistle to her mouth. “Let’s go!”

The team rose as one and Harry began flying complicated patterns all over the field trying to outsmart the Bludger. Draco sat on his broom and laughed. “Trying out for the ballet, Snape?”

“Yeah, Swan lake… in the air; catch me if you can, Malfoy!” and he barrel rolled under the Slytherin as he finally spotted the little golden ball below him. Draco cursed and began his dive as well when he finally realized Harry wasn’t faking, but Harry was well ahead of him, reaching for his prize when the Bludger came out of nowhere and smashed into his outstretched arm.

The pain was excruciating, causing the edges of his sight to fuzz out, but he sucked in his breath and, cradling his shattered arm against his chest, he let go of the broom with his remaining hand and reached out with it for the fluttering, winged ball. It was the greatest feeling of all when that little golden Snitch smacked into his hand and he dropped off his broom the remaining two feet to land groaning on the wet turf, Snitch raised to the cheering crowds.

He could see Draco above him and gave the blond an apologetic shrug and grin, before his screaming team surrounded him. Oliver led Madam Hooch over to where Harry lay, and Lockhart and McGonagall soon joined her, Snape being held behind by Dumbledore.

“Albus, is this really necessary? Harry was hurt by that Bludger – I need to see to him.”

“He’s alright, Minerva will get Pomfrey to attend to him. We need to see about this ball however, it appears to have been cursed…” but he was interrupted by a collective groan of disgust by the students surrounding Harry on the field.

Severus, fed up with his superior and wanting to see what had happened now, walked over to the ball resting innocently on the ground, blasted it into bits and walked past the stunned headmaster toward his son.

“Now we don’t need to worry anymore!” he snapped to his superior. He shouldered his way through the ring of children and found Minerva rounding on Gilderoy.

“What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing? You are supposed to wait for the Medi-witch!” she chided in a tone all to familiar to the surrounding Gryffindors. They all backed away, allowing their head more room to bluster at the flushing, blond professor.

“Well, it’s clearly not broken now!” he pointed out helpfully, trying to back pedal away from the angry head of house as well.

“Because there aren’t any bones left, you fool!” she barked, advancing on him.

Severus raised his eyes at this and looked down at his son. Sure enough, the boy’s arm resembled nothing more than a shapeless, flesh-coloured sack that quivered in his sleeve like gelatine.

“Oh, Harry…” he moaned. Harry looked up at his father.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Son, what am I going to do with you? Let’s get you to Pomfrey.” He helped the boy stand, throwing his own cloak around Harry’s shoulders to cover up the flopping appendage and began to lead him through the crowd of gawkers and up to the castle, sending a patented Snape glare, guaranteed to make a number two pewter cauldron melt on contact, at Lockhart – who had the grace to look chagrined.

Hermione and the team followed them up to the infirmary where Pomfrey fussed over him, put him into a bed after transfiguring his uniform into pyjamas, and served him the most disgusting potion he had taken yet, which his father told him was called Skele-grow, causing him to nearly spew on the spot. Only his father’s eyes on him forced him to swallow the foul draught.

“There now, you are going to have a night of it, Mr Potter-Snape. You have thirty-three bones to re-grow, and it is going to take all your strength. So, it’s off with you lot – you can see him tomorrow!” She bustled the team out the door as they called back ‘goodnight’s and ‘get well soon’s to him.

Snape Accio-ed a chair and sat down, preparing to spend the night at his son’s side. Harry was drifting off when he heard a small cough at the end of his bed, and he blearily opened his eyes to see Draco standing there.

“Hey,” the blond greeted him.

“Hey, yourself. Sorry about that, but the Bludger was pissing me off and I just had to get the ball before the Bludger killed me.”

“I understand. Not sure if my father will…”

“Those are cool brooms,” Harry began.

“Bribes. Call them what they are. He’s heard what I’ve said about him, and whom I support – he has spies all over Slytherin. He wants my affections back, and is trying to buy his way. It might’ve worked in the past – but not now. I know what he is, now.” Draco looked over at Severus. “I know what a real father should be like. I should’ve seen it sooner – but there you are.” He turned his gaze back on his injured friend. “Guess I was brainwashed as much as you, eh Snape?” He shrugged, and Severus gave him a rare smile before standing up and coming over to ruffle Draco’s hair affectionately before the blond could duck away in embarrassment.

“C’mon Draco, it’s time to head to dinner. I’ll walk you down. Harry, I’ll be back in a few minutes; try to rest, please.”

“I will, Dad. See you tomorrow, Drake.”

Draco nodded and let Severus lead him out of the infirmary while Harry leaned back into the pillows.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but apparently he had since his father was asleep by his side in the chair, and the infirmary was dark except for a hurricaned candle on his bedside table. He was startled to see numerous boxes of sweets and cards scattered across the table’s surface, but wasn’t awake enough to want to investigate them. Instead, he stared for a moment at the dancing flame, wondering why he had woken up when a small sound caught his ear. He jumped when his father’s hand moved quicker than lightening and snatched forward a familiar face.

Harry blinked a moment before exclaiming, “Dobby!”

Harry blinked a moment before exclaiming, “Dobby!”

Severus’ hand tightened on the back of Dobby’s dirty pillowcase, as the little elf wrung his hands and worried at his ears, whimpering.

“Dobby what are you doing here?” Harry enquired in a hoarse whisper, wincing as he moved his healing arm.

“Harry Potter did not stay home. Harry Potter came to school, and now there have been attacks,” the elf whinged, tears floating in his ball-like eyes. “Harry Potter must leave, he is in great danger!” he pleaded.

“I was in greater danger at the Dursley’s,” Harry murmured to himself, although Severus heard and frankly concurred with the thought. “Let him down, Dad, he won’t hurt me,” Harry requested. But Severus shook his head.

“I want some answers from this elf, Harry, answers only he knows.” He flicked his wand with his left hand and Harry could feel a ward go up around them. He raised questioning eyes at his father. “A silencing ward, son, so we don’t rouse the good matron.” He turned his attention back to the elf. “Alright, Dobby, we know about the creature hiding in the depths of the castle – and it has already attacked a few times. What do you know? What are Lucius’ plans? Oh yes,” he purred when the little creature turned its huge, round eyes on him, obviously terrified. “I know exactly who you are, and who your master is; now talk!” Severus gave Dobby a small shake, ignoring a protest from his son, concentrating all his listening skills on the house-elf.

Dobby wriggled in the Potions master’s grip, tears dripping down his nose in his despair at being recognised.

“Master doesn’t know I’m here! But I must try to get Harry Potter to go home, get away from school…”

“But Dobby, my home…” Harry stopped when Severus motioned to him to be quiet with a curt shake of his head.

“I’m asking you again, elf, what is Lucius’ plan?”

“He had the Dark Lord’s things in hiding, under the dining room,” Dobby began, clearly under duress, as he wouldn’t look the Potions master in the eye, and his face kept screwing up as if under terrible mental torture. “Master took one of them and planted it on a student coming to the school. Master said it would release a creature that would kill the students who weren’t pure-bloods. Master hoped the creature would kill Harry Potter… Aaarrrgggghhh!!” the little man squealed, trying to punish himself against Harry’s metal bed frame. Severus yanked the elf away from the bed and hauled him up in front of him.

“What was the object?” Severus queried in a deadly serious voice, one he reserved for scaring the living daylights out of first-years.

“A-a-a book,” said the trembling Dobby, more tears welling in his huge eyes.

“A book?”

The elf nodded his head vigorously, before slamming his hands onto it, boxing his own ears.

“What kind of book?” the Potions master persisted.

“Diary! Bad Dobby, bad Dobby, squealing Masters secrets!” He stuffed his fingers into his mouth and began chomping on them. This answer struck a chord of familiarity in Harry, but he could not remember where he had seen a diary recently.

“Dobby, stop!” Severus commanded.

“Bad wizard tell Dobby stop?” he mumbled through his fingers.

“My dad isn’t a bad wizard!” Harry protested.

This stopped Dobby in his chomping, and he pulled his inflamed and bleeding fingers from his mouth. “Not a bad wizard? Harry Potter is wrong. Dobby saw Bad Wizard at Master’s house. Saw him do things with Master. He’s an evil wizard, Harry Potter, you should not be with him!”

“No, he isn’t. Trust me, Dobby. My father is not an evil wizard.” Harry raised an eye to his father, silently asking permission. He received a short nod after a short interval.

“Besides being my father, Dobby, Severus was a spy for the light in Volde – sorry, Dad – He-who-must-not-be-named’s camp.”

“Bad wizard not bad wizard?” Dobby asked incredulously, the tears stopping in his curiosity.

“Not a bad wizard, Dobby. Mr Malfoy knows this and is probably not too pleased about that.” Severus privately thought that his son was vastly underestimating Lucius’ reaction. ‘Not too pleased’, indeed. More likely, incensed! But he kept quiet as he watched his son interact with the little creature. Harry seemed to have an instinctual manner in how best to handle a house-elf.

Dobby shook his head in disbelief for a moment then looked at Harry again. “Dobby sorry, Harry Potter.”

“For what, Dobby?”

The little elf began wringing his ears again, not looking at Harry in embarrassment. “Dobby sorry for Harry Potter’s broken arm…”

“You bewitched the Bludger?” both Snapes asked simultaneously, in much the same tone of disbelief. This caused the elf to fall off the bed in fear and begin banging his head again against the cast iron railings at the foot of the bed. Severus whipped around the bed, snatched up the elf again and placed him back on the bed.

“Dobby, you’ve got to promise me, no more trying to save me! You nearly killed me instead!” Harry insisted, grabbing Dobby’s hands to keep him from beating himself again.

“Dobby didn’t mean too…” The elf’s eyes were threatening to overflow again as he stared in awe at Harry, and down at Harry’s hands. A great wizard was protecting him and touching him? Dobby lost his heart right then and there to Harry Potter-Snape, the greatest wizard he’d ever known.

“I know, Dobby. Just don’t anymore, okay? The last two times really didn’t work out the way you wanted, so just quit it, alright?” Harry pleaded, before squeezing the house-elf’s hands once in concern and releasing them.

“Dobby promises…” He cut off suddenly, looking off past Harry’s shoulder. “Dobby must go, he is being called!” And before Harry could say a thing, Dobby vanished with a loud snap of displaced air.

Harry let out a huge sigh, “Merlin!”

“I agree. Well, now we know what to look for – a Diary,” his father commented.

“Yes, but there must be hundreds of diaries in the castle,” Harry pointed out, although he just knew he had seen one recently, but where?

“Indubitably, there are,” Severus agreed. “We will have to keep a look-out, though. Now, back to sleep, young man.” He handed Harry a measure of Dreamless Sleep mixed with a pain-relieving potion, which Harry gratefully downed, despite the taste, and quickly fell asleep.

Severus kept watch the rest of the night, running the conversation with Dobby backwards and forwards through his mind, but coming to no worthwhile conclusions.

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey released the boy, after checking to make sure all his bones had regrown. Severus banished the cards and sweets to Harry’s room in the dungeons, most had yet to be opened – but Harry said he would read them when he found the time.

****

The rest of October whizzed by, with the Halloween feast featuring Hagrid’s prize pumpkins adorning the hall, capping it off. Harry and Draco barely had a chance to enjoy the sight, however, as they and Hermione had been invited by Nearly Headless Nick to attend his 500th Death Day Party. Already being dead, Nick had only been stunned by Gertrude, much to the annoyance of everyone who had to hear him repeat his story, not that he had seen much: he hadn’t been facing the direction she had approached; he had been talking with Justin. He had recovered after a few days time and resumed his usual hauntings; now with a new story to add to his arsenal.

Hermione had considered the party as something extremely novel to do, and Harry had managed to promise Nick he would attend to bolster the ghost’s standing amongst the other spirits. Draco tagged along in order to keep an eye out for his brother.

They had been totally disgusted by the rotting food, and had the willies run up their backs with the screeching of the ghost musicians. Nick had been pleased to see them though, and everything seemed to be going well until the headless hunt showed up and trampled through everything. Myrtle had fled, moaning up a storm, while Peeves cackled as he zoomed back and forth across the room throwing things through the ghosts, and Nick was so dejected he never saw the three students take their hurried leave.

It was on their way back towards the real banquet when Harry heard the basilisk again.

**Come to me, let me rip you, let me eat you…**

“Can’t you guys hear that?” Harry asked his two companions.

“Hear what, Harry?” Hermione asked. “I don’t hear a thing.”

Draco looked over at his brother. “You’re hearing it again?”

“Again?” Hermione squeaked.

Harry nodded absently; shushing the two of them with his hand, as his gaze wandered the corridor looking for the direction the voice was travelling in. He finally heard the sibilant whisper again leading upwards past the Entrance Hall.

“C’mon, it’s going this way!” he said as he began sprinting after the voice. Hermione’s exasperated “Harry!” fell on deaf ears as he ran to keep up with the monster. His flight took them to the second floor where they came upon Colin Creevey lying in a puddle of water near the girls’ bathroom with his camera frozen near his face. Hermione ran to get a professor while the boys guarded the area.

“Harry, this is where they found Mrs Norris…” Draco began a bit worriedly. Harry looked interested.

“Is it?” He hadn’t heard this information. He knew the first attack had been on the second floor, but not where.

“Yeah, and the other two were found just a corridor away.” Draco pointed out. Further conversation was stymied however, as they heard the running of feet on the stone floors approaching them. Severus and McGonagall came to a screeching halt in the water, splashing the boys, followed by Hermione who was panting and trying to catch her breath as she leaned over resting her hands on her thighs.

“Oh dear,” McGonagall stated when she saw her student on the floor. “I need to get him to the hospital wing with the others. I’ll leave these three to you, Severus,” she snapped out, pinning the three in their place with a glare. Then she looked around the corridor, seeming to notice the water for the first time. “Merlin, it looks like Myrtle has flooded the bathroom again.”

She tsked to herself as she used her wand to lift the boy up and float him along in front of her towards Pomfrey’s lair as Severus turned to the three students. With arms crossed on his chest and, with his hair falling forward casting his face in shadow, he looked positively sinister. All three children took a step back as he advanced on their position.

“Where were you tonight?” he asked sternly.

Harry gulped hard before responding. “Don’t you remember, Dad? We went to Nick’s Death Day Party.” Harry reminded his father.

“Of course, but that was down in the dungeons – what are you doing up here on the second floor?”

“I heard the basilisk again and I followed the sound…” he stopped when he saw his father’s visage roil in anger. Draco just shook his head ruefully on behalf of his idiotic god-brother who tended to walk where angels feared to tread.

“Are you crazy? What would make you do a fool thing like that?” Severus yelled. All three students cringed.

“I don’t know – it just seemed like I should; perhaps figure out where the entrance is? I think it has to be somewhere around here, Dad, all of the attacks have happened around here!” Harry tried to explain, but realising at the same time that it was a pretty lame excuse.

Severus turned to Draco and Hermione. “And you two just followed this hare-brained scheme? I thought you were smarter and cleverer than that!” he accused.

“Someone had to keep him safe,” Draco pointed out, trying to cover his arse as much as possible. Hermione just whimpered, she hated being in trouble with the teachers.

“No doubt,” Severus murmured. “Despite the fact that you most likely have deduced the location of the entrance – leaving us with a viable means of catching the perpetrator, you still placed yourself in mortal harms way. Do you remember, Harry, what I told you at the beginning of summer if I determined that you had done something to place yourself in mortal danger?”

Harry’s face blanched as he remembered the rules. “A – a – spanking?”

“Correct. Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy will receive detentions and twenty-five points docked apiece, as will you. But for leading this little expedition – without clearly thinking it through – you will receive a spanking.” Hermione looked askance at the sentence being heaped on her friend, forgetting her fear of detention.

“Sir, don’t you think…” she began, but was silenced by Severus’ hand.

“Miss Granger, I specifically spelled out to Mr Snape what his discipline would be, as his guardian and his father, if he should ever place himself in Mortal Danger. I do believe that following a voice that he specifically knew to belong to a basilisk qualifies as such, don’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in emphasis.

Hermione slowly nodded her head, giving Harry a sympathetic look that clearly said ‘I tried’. Harry shrugged his shoulders at her in resignation; he had been doomed the second his father had found him there.

Severus watched this little interplay before intervening. “I am going to escort Miss Granger back to her tower, and I expect you two gentlemen to be waiting in our rooms when I get back. Am I clear?” All three students nodded their heads and Harry and Draco headed back for the dungeons as Severus escorted Hermione to a nearby shortcut to the seventh floor.

When he returned to his rooms, both boys were sitting quietly at the table, neither speaking.

Severus hung up his teaching robes on the hooks just to the side of the entryway and approached the table, rolling up the sleeves of his white linen shirt.

“Draco, go get ready for bed. Harry, follow me, please.”

Draco gave a commiserating look to his brother before heading slowly down the corridor as Severus led Harry to his bedroom, conjuring a hard wooden chair in the middle of the chamber. He sat down in it, with Harry standing before him.

“Drop your trousers and pants, Mr Snape,” he commanded.

Harry worried his lower lip as he silently opened his belt, unzipped his trousers and shoved everything down around his knees. Severus motioned for him to bend over his knees and, after raising his hand for a moment, commenced the spanking.

Harry was glad the man counted as he suffered through the punishment; it helped – a little bit. But, Merlin, Severus’ hand was hard! Harry squirmed a bit as the numbers got higher, and gave a gasp when, at the tenth swat, Severus readjusted his knees so that he could reach a little lower on Harry’s buttocks – putting a whole new definition to his understanding of receiving a spanking. At the end of the fifteen total swats, with bright red butt cheeks to show for it, Harry was crying – though he was making no sound – and with his past, Severus didn’t expect him to. It was just the tears flowing non-stop down the boy’s face, and they broke Severus’ heart – but the child had been warned. Severus stood the boy up, helping him gingerly to redress then he transfigured the chair into a cosier one, and drew the child into his lap.

“Alright, Harry, it’s over.” He handed his son a handkerchief to dry his eyes with, while rubbing the boy’s back. Harry had curled into his father’s chest, breathing in the comforting scents he always noticed: cloves, cinnamon and wood smoke permeated the cloth.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Harry whispered.

“I know you are, son. Just try to think next time. Now, what would have been the correct course of action to take?”

“Get a professor.”

“Correct. Hopefully there will not be a next time, but knowing you – there will be. And if there is, I want you to get an adult. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” came the sniffled response.

“Good.” The two just sat there, together, for several minutes more. Harry was revelling in the novelty of being comforted after a spanking. Vernon had never comforted Harry – neither had Petunia, they had pushed him away when he was a toddler and needed comforting. He had learned quite quickly that comfort was not something he would ever earn. And Vernon had never spanked either; he had slapped, kicked, or pummelled Harry – but never just a spanking. And he couldn’t resent Severus for the punishment – the man had spelled out what would happen and had followed through. He could always count on Severus to be fair. He snuggled deeper under his father’s arms, wrapping his own comfortably around the older man, letting out a huge yawn that nearly split his face. His father chuckled.

“Come on, brat, let’s get you to bed.” He reluctantly helped his son to stand up, vanishing the chair, and followed the boy to his bedroom. Draco was still awake, writing in his journal when the two entered. Harry gave his brother a watery smile before grabbing a set of nightwear from his cupboard and heading to the bathroom to change. When he returned, Severus bade both boys goodnight and headed back to the lounge for a nightcap. He needed one after this night.

As November drew to a close and December blustered in across the Scottish highlands, a buzz went up in all the common rooms as it was announced there would be a duelling club starting up. Draco and Harry were especially keen on this development and nearly gained a detention from Severus for constantly whispering back and forth as they brewed their potion on Friday morning – but he only restrained when he saw that theirs, besides Hermione’s, was the only correct potion in class, so he resorted to taking ten points each instead, and giving them his disappointed-father-glare. They both gulped loudly and fell silent for the rest of the class, only speaking when they needed to for the potion.

Severus noted that Weasley smirked at the two boys when they received the points loss – apparently the boy still hadn’t come to terms with Harry’s new family. That would need to be resolved soon, he thought to himself as the second-years placed their phials on his desk and hastily left the dungeons. He truly wanted it resolved before the holidays started – he didn’t want to notify Molly Weasley that her youngest son was still being an arse.

****

That evening the students returned to the Great Hall where they found Professor Lockhart standing on a raised duelling platform that now took over the majority of the hall. The man looked especially natty that evening: wearing duelling robes over his clothes, everything matching in various shades of lavender. Most of the girls sighed in admiration as they gazed up at the handsome professor, and most of the boys groaned under their breaths. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Neville all stood near each other, and Ron stood a few feet further down near the twins, who were pointedly still ignoring him.

When the last of the students gathered around the platform, Lockhart swirled his cape off and threw it into the crowd, making several young girls nearly swoon as they tried to grab it from the air.

“Professor Dumbledore has graciously allowed me to teach this little duelling club, in order to prepare you for the future. Now, I will show you how a duel is fought; there are many rules of etiquette to be followed and we are lucky to have Professor Snape as my assistant this evening.” He bowed towards the far end of the platform where Severus ascended the stairs to stand with his wand at the ready, to a smattering of applause. While his teaching methods had improved, somewhat, his reputation was still that of the Greasy Git. Harry, Draco and Hermione clapped enthusiastically, however, and Severus granted them a quick nod of appreciation. He strode purposefully along the platform until he stopped near Lockhart who had begun speaking.

“Yes, yes, your professor has some slight experience with defensive and offensive spells, and has allowed me to take him away from his favourite potions for a few hours this evening.” He looked over at the dark man and hastily began the lesson when he noted the man glowering at him. “Now, Professor Snape and I will bow to each other like so,” he said as the two men bent toward each other formally with a stiff bend at the waist while whipping their wands forward to an upright position in front of their faces, eyes locked on each other – never blinking. They quickly straightened and turned around in a smooth move that left them with their wands still upright, and their backs touching.

“Now we will take twenty steps forward, turn and face each other, and release our first spells!” The two older men walked away from each other for the required twenty paces, performed military turns and lowered their wands, arms straight out in front of them, angling their bodies to present the least amount of target area to their opponent. Harry was reminded of when they’d had two fencers come in for a demonstration during gym class at his primary school. He wondered idly which rules had been developed first – wizarding or Muggle?

“Uncle is going to wipe the floor with that glad-rag,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear. “Just watch.” Harry could only agree as he watched his father’s face, who was intently watching the Defense professor. Just as Lockhart raised his wand to start a spell, Severus let loose with an “Expelliarmus!” that had such force behind it, the other professor was knocked clean off of his feet and into the padded wall behind him, dropping his wand in the process.

Harry and Draco slapped hands as Harry pronounced the move absolutely “Brilliant”, and they laughed with most of the other boys as Gilderoy untangled his limbs, found his wand, and struggled to stand up in a dignified manner – which he wholly managed to miss. Harry caught Ron’s eye and they both grinned at the ridiculous man’s antics – before looking away, embarrassed. Harry thought they both felt that the estrangement had gone on long enough, but they were both unwilling to make the first move to reconcilement. The girls all cooed in sympathy at the professor’s ungainly attempts. Harry looked up at his father and caught the man’s eye, beaming as the professor gave him a sly wink before schooling his expression into one of bored disdain. He watched his colleague finally regain his feet, smooth back his flustered hair, and twitch his duelling robe back into place.

“That, children, was a well performed disarming charm – an excellent move to show them that, Professor; but if you don’t mind me saying so, it was quite obvious what you were about to do and I could have stopped you… well, yes…” he ended up spluttering in the end as he noticed the murderous look Severus was sending his way. He flushed to the roots of his blond hair. “Enough demonstrations! Let’s pair everyone up and let you have a go at it, eh?”

Draco and Harry paired up. Harry would’ve normally asked Ron, but the boy was still giving him the silent treatment, although he no longer deliberately moved to a different location whenever Harry came near him. Besides, he and Draco were pretty much evenly matched.

All around them chaos reigned as hexes, jinxes and charms were thrown about with abandon, causing several injuries to occur. Some older Slytherins thought that they would be sly and try to injure Snape ‘by accident’, but he managed to block every single ‘stray’ hex that came his way while each and every miscreant found themselves removed to the chairs along the side of the room, wands confiscated for the duration.

Draco and Harry calmly exchanged spells and shield charms – this was something they were very familiar with, having studied this way during the summer. Severus had them practicing on the weekends, ever since, in the abandoned classroom in the dungeons that he had transformed into a personal workout area many years earlier. It was complete with mirrors along one wall, and with mats in front of it for fencing and other gymnastic activities, as well as free weights, rabbited swords and epees, and various other devices both magical and Muggle. Severus had added quite a number of devices and weapons to his personal training arsenal as he was making sure the boys would survive to adulthood. He truly did not trust the level of DADA masters the headmaster had been hiring so far.

Professor Lockhart was soon pulling on his hair and screaming, “Stop!” at the top of his lungs, sounding very nearly like a banshee. His face was turning an interesting shade of purple, in his frustration. For the most part, the students ignored him – although with Severus present and watching, his two boys stopped immediately, dropping their wands to the proper waiting stance. Severus just stood back, smirking at the mess around him. Lockhart couldn’t lead a duelling club if his life depended upon it, and Severus was more than willing to let the man self-destruct on his own.

Several students were sprawled on the floor recovering from various jinxes and hexes. Harry was especially gleeful to see Nott flat on the floor but still moving his legs from a well-placed Tarentellegra that a fourth-year Hufflepuff had thrown at him. Insult on top of injury: beautiful! Across the room from him, Ron was spouting several tentacles on his face from a jinx by Hermione; but he seemed to be unaware of the eight waving appendages that haloed his face like sunbeams, as he stared at his wand, which was hanging by a thread of unicorn tail hair. His mouth was hanging down to his knees, almost literally – if you counted the tentacle that extended from his chin - and he just held the fractured piece of wood with an expression of horror, while several nearby Slytherins were laughing at his misfortune.

Harry totally forgot that he was supposed to be ignoring Ron, and his attitude, as he hurried to his friend’s side, Draco following discretely behind him. By the time they reached him, Hermione had already placed a comforting arm around Ron and was trying to calm him down.

“What happened?” asked Harry as he looked at the pitiful object. “Your spell didn’t do that; did it, Hermione?”

“Nooo, I had just finished my jinx when this spell came shooting off from the left and hit Ron’s wand.” She murmured a Finite, and the squirming, fleshy protuberances disappeared. “I’m so sorry, Ronald,” she said quietly.

Ron just looked up into Harry’s face, tried to garble something and gave up, resorting to looking forlornly back down at his wand.

Severus, seeing the little group of children, sauntered over – in case anyone needed a stronger counter-curse or anti-jinx performed. He had to stifle a sigh, however, when he saw the reason of the little group gathering.

Hermione looked up as she felt the taller presence of the professor looming nearby. “Oh, Professor – a stray spell broke Ronald’s wand. Is there anything that can be done to fix it?” Ron was so desperate that, when he turned to face the professor, he actually looked hopeful that his most hated teacher might have a remedy.

Severus peered down at the sad sight and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Miss Granger. I believe Mr Weasley needs to owl his parents tonight and request a new wand be sent immediately.”

“My mum’s going to kill me!” murmured the still stunned Ron. “I don’t think we have any spare wands at home; and with Ginny in school now, too – well, I don’t think there’s a lot of extra galleons laying around,” he muttered, a bit embarrassed, looking back down.

“We’ll see what we can do, Mr Weasley. In the meantime…” Severus conjured a roll of spello-tape and handed it to the teen, “…take this and tape your wand back together. You’ll be able to practice movements, but I wouldn’t try casting any real spells except in an emergency – they will most likely backfire. I will let the Headmaster know what is going on and he will contact your parents to make arrangements. Now head on over to the seats over there – you can watch the rest of the evening’s demonstrations safely from them.” He placed a hand in the middle of Ron’s back and steered him firmly in the direction of the chairs. “Nott, come here!” he called out to the nearby Slytherin who promptly coloured up, but obeyed his housemaster.

“I observed your duel, Mr Nott,” Severus said in a low and menacing voice. “And that severing charm was not aimed at your opponent; it was, however, deliberately aimed at Mr Weasley, leaving yourself open for the Tarantellegra. From a Hufflepuff! Fifty points from Slytherin for a remarkable lack of judgement, and you have two weeks of detention, with me, starting Monday night.” He grinned evilly as a truly Slytherin solution came to mind. “And you will pay for Mr Weasley’s new wand – from Ollivanders, of course.” The boy turned white with this news; Ollivander wands were expensive – well worth their value – but expensive. “While this is a duelling club, you never aim – during the club – to deprive a student of their wand past the point of club meetings. In the real world, yes, you would try to disable your opponent in such a fashion, but not in the club. Now, go sit down – away from Weasley.” He watched as the second-year slunk over to the line of chairs and sat down in the one furthest from Ron.

Severus went around and performed the several remaining counter jinxes before rejoining Lockhart on the platform.

“Well, I guess we should practice shielding charms first, eh, Professor Snape?” the foppish wizard asked.

“Indeed,” Severus said stonily, with his arms crossed across his chest. “Perhaps a demonstration first, from the students? May I suggest my son and godson?” He motioned to the two boys to quickly join him on stage, and placing an arm around each of them, gathered them in to give them quick instructions.

“Keep it clean, gentlemen. Draco, cast Rictumsempra – Harry, you will cast Protego; just like you practice on the weekends. Understand? Good.” He walked them over to the centre of the platform where they bowed correctly to each other, turned and paced off before returning to the ready stance at either end of the platform. Harry had his spell ready on the tip of his tongue and watched Draco closely.

Draco, instead of the hex approved of by his head of house, used Serpensortia instead – sending a cobra across the platform toward his brother. He was curious to see what his Parseltongue-speaking brother was going to do. He had yet to see Harry demonstrate this capability and he was half unsure that the tale was even true, although leading them to the bathroom had nearly convinced him. He stood back with a smirk on his face as the students hastily backed away from the platforms edge – in case the snake came for them.

The snake had landed in a heap near Harry, and shook it’s head for a moment before flaring it’s hood and beginning to undulate in a mesmerising pattern in front of the younger boy, tongue flicking in and out. Harry took a deep breath, shot an annoyed glare at Draco, and warned his father back with his eyes when the older wizard stepped forward, wand raised, to interfere.

Gilderoy didn’t pay any attention to this interaction, and stepped forward himself. “I know the perfect spell to get rid of him, Harry.” And before anyone could stop him, his spell had sent the serpent flying in the air, only to come down with a loud thump on the platform. The snake, seriously angered, flared its hood even wider as it slithered toward the edge of the platform, causing several girls to scream.

Severus grabbed the front of Lockhart’s robes, lifting him up to face the angry father. “Are you that stupid, Lockhart! You never use that spell on a snake! Are you trying to provoke it deliberately and cause a riot? What kind of Dark Arts expert are you?” he spat in the fop’s face. “Get out of my way, and stay out of it!” He tossed the blond toward the far corner of the stage and turned back towards his son to see if he needed any help.

Meanwhile, Harry stepped forward; his own wand raised as he listened to the hissing coming from the great serpent. He spoke sharply to the animal to get its attention before continuing in a gentler tone to the animal, soothing it with his voice. His father conjured a burlap sack and held it at the ready. Harry approached closer as the snake lowered its hood and sidled up to the boy – listening intently, although it took the time to flare at the students again, some of whom were getting too close. Harry hissed in a rebuking tone at the animal, garnering its attention back to him. The other children eyed Harry warily, beginning to murmur to themselves. Hermione stood with her hands over her mouth in sheer terror.

Harry ignored them all, holding out his left hand for the bag, and coaxed the snake into it, quickly tying off the top. He looked at his father. “I told him we would transfer him to a zoo.” Severus nodded his understanding and straightened up to pin Draco with his stare, warning him not to move, then turned to a visibly shaken Professor Lockhart.

“I believe this concludes the duelling club, don’t you agree, Professor?” Lockhart agreed readily and shooed the remaining students out the doors as they tried to look at Harry, murmuring about this new facet of his powers. Whispers of “Parselmouth” and “Heir of Slytherin” were floating back to the three left standing on the platform. When the room was clear, Severus finally looked down at Draco.

“I specifically told you to use Rictumsempra, young man. What got in your head?” Draco would have preferred it if his godfather had yelled at him; instead, what he got was worse: the man was holding his temper barely in, and his voice was deadly calm, but low and threatening in its timbre. Draco looked a bit sheepish as he answered.

“I wanted to see what Parseltongue sounded like – I just couldn’t believe it when Harry said he was a Parselmouth… I wanted to see what he could do and I remembered this spell that father taught me last summer...”

“You could’ve asked me down in dad’s rooms, I speak to Ssthan and Ssthor all the time – they’re the snakes on Sal’s portrait!” Harry pointed out. “Now the whole school knows, and they really think I’m the Heir of Slytherin! Brilliant, Draco! Very Slytherin of you!” He turned away from his friend in disgust, dropping down on the platform to sit cross-legged. Draco paled and made as if to go over and apologise, but Severus’ lean hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I’m disappointed in you, Draco. You will apologise to Harry – just not tonight. Give him a chance to calm down. I’m afraid I will have to insist that you sleep in your Dorm tonight, we’ll see about tomorrow. I truly thought you had a better head on your shoulders than this little stunt shows. I will be setting you a punishment; I’m just too incensed to think straight. I will speak to you about it tomorrow. Come to my rooms after breakfast and we will speak then.” Draco had kept his head down during this rebuke, and with a last look at Harry - who had drawn his knees up to his chest, arms clasped tightly around them while resting his head on the bony pillows - he shuffled out of the Great Hall.

Severus walked over to Harry, crouching down until his knees screamed in protest and placed a hand on Harry’s back, stroking it a few times in sympathy. “Come on, let’s take your new friend up to Dumbledore – he will make sure it arrives at a proper facility.” Harry nodded once, surreptitiously wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his jumper – he would never admit he had been crying - before scrambling up, grabbing the squirming burlap bag, and joining his father as they walked out of the Great Hall. When they reached the doors, Severus turned and, with a wave of his wand, returned the room to rights for breakfast the next day.

Harry slept alone in his room that night, down in his father’s quarters. He missed talking to Draco as they slowly drifted off to sleep, sharing each other’s adventures during the previous week, as was their habit on the weekends; but he was still upset at his friend’s daring. He punched his pillow in anger and flipped himself over in bed, too riled up to sleep. He thought back to what had happened after the club: he and Severus had taken the cobra up to Dumbledore who had flooed a magical zoo to send over a keeper.

A young man, dressed in khaki short-robes that had large roomy pockets and various loops all over it that contained many different items, soon arrived and took possession of the sack, and after smiling at the Headmaster, and staring awestruck at Harry’s scar – which he hastily tried to cover up with a quick down-swipe to his fringe – flooed back out to the zoo.

They took their leave soon after and headed down to the dungeons where Severus sent Harry off to bed for the rest of the night.

But Harry couldn’t sleep. He tried counting sheep and dragons, but soon the imaginary dragons were devouring the imaginary sheep, which wasn’t very conducive to sleep. Eventually he remembered to try the mind techniques that his father had been teaching him.

He straightened out on his bed, tightening up his entire body then consciously relaxing all the muscle groups one by one: starting at his feet and working his way up to his neck and head. He felt himself floating along peacefully and began to imagine his inner jungle. He prowled along the outside of it, checking for any chinks or holes in his protections. Finding none, he walked towards the edge and entered past his guardians, deciding to check on his pools. The peacefulness of the walk eased him into dreams and when Severus came to check on him, he was fast asleep.

Severus pulled up the covers, bestowing a light kiss on top of the ruffled hair, and closed the door quietly behind him. He walked into the lounge, conjuring a glass of wine to sip on as he stared contemplatively into the fire that chased away the December chill filtering down to the already cold dungeons. What to do about Draco, he mused to himself.

He recognized the bit of jealousy that Draco had exhibited, coloured with the proud need to show off his brother’s abilities. But it was so unlike Draco to do such an un-Slytherin manoeuvre. Harry’s mental balance was tightly wound, as it was, without this added to it.

Perhaps if he showed Draco what it truly meant to be Harry? He would need Harry’s permission, and he would have to have a plan ‘B’ in place in case his son denied the request; but he thought it might just cure Draco of his slight jealousy and curb any future desires to see what Harry could do, just for the sheer novelty of it. That is what irked him the most about the incident. If Draco had only taken a moment to think about what he was doing… Obviously the boys were rubbing off on each other if Draco was starting to think like a Gryffindor and Harry was thinking more like a Slytherin.

A sound from the bedroom caught his attention. Damn it, Harry had forgotten his potion! Severus had specifically put out a dose this evening, as he knew Harry would have nightmares after the Duelling Club fiasco; the child must not have seen it.

He set his wine down, made sure a ward was set around the fire to keep embers from falling into the room, and headed quickly down to his son’s room.

Harry was thrashing around in his bed, the covers pushed down to the foot of it in a jumbled mess. Severus eased himself down onto the mattress and captured Harry in his strong arms. “Alright, Harry… it’s alright. Wake up, son; it’s just a nightmare. I’m here, listen to my voice, Harry, come to the voice… that’s it, that’s right… calm down…” He stroked the sweat-soaked hair away from Harry’s face, conjuring a damp flannel and wiping the tears and sweat from his son’s skin.

Another flick of the wand straightened out the covers and had lifted them up to settle back around the youth who was breathing slower now, but had not opened his eyes. Severus looked down and realised Harry was back to sleep – this time a quite normal sleep pattern. He resorted to spelling the potion into his son’s stomach then waited a few more minutes before tucking the boy back under the covers. This time he left the door open a crack and headed to bed.

****

“I don’t know, Dad,” said Harry the next morning at breakfast. “How can this help?”

Severus set down his knife after buttering a scone. “Look at it this way, Draco needs to understand what you go through just being you. He in no way is as jealous as Mr Weasley is over your fame, but I think he is a bit envious of your abilities.”

“Well, he can have them!” Harry declared. “I certainly don’t want them! They’re nothing but trouble. I wish they would go away and let me be just a normal kid – happy to have found his father, have good friends and a great school to go to – and never have to worry about the possibility of a madman and his henchmen trying to constantly kill me! Just because I didn’t die the first time! What the hell is there to be envious about?” He could feel the anger in him flushing his cheeks. He tried to take deep breaths to calm down.

“Language, Harry,” Severus chided calmly. Harry frowned at his father before nearly slamming down his silverware, but catching it in time to place it firmly on his plate with just a minor clatter. “Apparently, son, Draco wishes he were in your shoes and perhaps, by showing him what your life is like, we can show him that it is not all that he imagines it to be.”

“What, about my life, is there to be envious about? My relative’s manner of raising children? My uncle’s idea of having a good time? How about everyone whispering behind my back about how I’m obviously the heir of Slytherin? Oh, I heard them last night – thinking I was a dark wizard.” He got up out of his chair and began to prowl about the room. Severus watched him covertly as he sipped his coffee.

“Fine,” Harry finally agreed, feeling a bit reckless. “I’ll let him see; but this isn’t his only punishment, is it?”

“No, just the most important aspect of it. He’ll still get two weeks of detention with me before the holidays begin.”

Harry looked worried at that, and it had the effect of calming him down where nothing else would. “Does he have to go to the Manor for Christmas?” he finally asked.

“No, Lucius and Narcissa are apparently taking a long vacation to the continent and have requested Draco stay here. I would have insisted on it in any case. It is not safe for him to go back there.”

“Dad…” Harry began.

“I’m working on it, Harry, trust me. Alright?” Harry had to be satisfied with this answer. The two of them had decided to try and get custody of Draco – based on the abuse Lucius had subjected Draco to the previous summer. Whitney was helping with gathering the evidence and preparing the brief for the officials in the Child Welfare office at the Ministry. This was being kept a secret from the young Slytherin, as they did not know when, or if, they would be successful.

“Now, go get your books and start in on your homework. I’ve summoned Draco to show up in half-an-hour.” Harry nodded his agreement and headed to his room to get his book bag and some other research books.

A half-hour later a knock came at the door and Severus answered the summons, ushering in his godson.

“Harry, I…” Draco started quickly, but was silenced by Severus.

“Not yet, Draco. You need to understand what this betrayal meant to Harry, first. We mean to show you that life as Harry Potter-Snape is not all a bed of roses that comes with greater power and enviable magical traits.”

Draco frowned up at his godfather. “I know that, Uncle Severus. Aren’t we going through Whitney’s sessions together?”

Severus studied his godson a moment before answering. He raised a finger and tapped it on Draco’s head. “You know that here, son, but not here.” He lowered his hand to spread it against Draco’s chest. “You need to internalise this understanding before you can be truly sorry for what you put your brother through last night. I have borrowed Professor Dumbledore’s Pensieve – do you boys understand what this is? Ah, yes, Harry does from the trial; but not you Draco? Well, a Pensieve is a device wherein a magical person can place a memory and view it as if seeing it from the outside – rather than as a participant. This gives the added ability of being able to analyse a situation, or dream, to capture nuances previously unseen when the event originally occurred.”

He walked over to cabinet, unlocking it to reveal a grey stone basin, carved in runic glyphs around the outer edge of the central bowl. A thick, smoking fluid moved around in the centre. It reminded Harry of the vapour produced by dry ice when it was exposed to air. He’d had a science teacher in school freeze a sausage once by placing it on dry ice and the children then watched it explode when he hit it with a hammer.

Severus summoned him over to the basin. “Harry, I want you to think of several instances that you wish to show Draco how being you, with your abilities, isn’t exactly fun and games. Ready? Alright, think of your first one.”

Harry thought about his bouts of accidental magic and how he would get punished for it at the Dursleys. He nodded to his father he was ready and closed his eyes as he felt the wand tip settle against his head and pull the memory away from his head. This was repeated several times over the course of the next few minutes as Draco watched, stunned that they were even contemplating doing this. The contents in the bowl writhed and turned as the memories were added to its medium.

Harry sat for a moment after it was over, and was grateful for the strong hand that caressed his cheek for a moment before it reached for Draco’s arm to pull him closer.

“Now, Mr Malfoy, why don’t you and I take a trip down memory lane, shall we?” Severus led him closer to the bowl.

Draco balked a bit, staring wide-eyed at his brother. “I really don’t need to see this, Uncle Sev; Harry doesn’t need to show me…”

Severus stopped in his leading of Draco and turned back to the student. “I disagree, Mr Malfoy.” Draco flinched at his Godfather’s formal use of his name. It stung, as he only used that when he was severely disappointed with Draco. “I feel you could benefit greatly from this – and it is not up for negotiation! You will accompany me!” He began the pacing again over to the table.

Draco had no recourse but to follow along. Harry thought Draco looked like he was being led to the gallows – or the headman’s block.

Severus stopped with Draco next to him, facing the wide brimmed vessel. “Just place your face close to the bowl, like I’m doing and we enter like so…” Harry watched as the bowl sucked in his father and god-brother then trudged over to the table to finish his homework. It was going to be a long, few hours.

****

Draco landed next to Severus in a Muggle home – its lobby to be exact, small though it was. Draco sneered at the commonness of the abode, but noted it was as clean as the Manor – more so, actually. Every surface gleamed, and there was not a speck of dust anywhere.

He turned to his guardian. “Where’s Harry?”

“Just watch.” He had seen this memory before during his sessions with Harry, and so was prepared when Petunia calmly walked down the stairs and, removing a key from the pocket of her apron, unlocked the padlock on the cupboard under the stairs. She then proceeded to pound on the door. “Wake up, boy. Come and make breakfast!”

Draco winced as he heard the high, piercing, voice of Petunia; gasped when he heard a child’s voice answer “Coming, Aunt Petunia!” and paled when he saw a five-year-old version of Harry open the cupboard door and walk to the kitchen. The child was barely three feet tall, and had on the loosest clothing Draco had ever seen. Severus whispered that the clothing belonged to Harry’s cousin – he had none of his own. They walked towards the open kitchen door and Draco stopped a moment to look into the cupboard.

A thin pallet of a baby mattress, stained and dirty, covered by a blanket - that had more holes than material - met his eyes. He noted a scrawled legend above the pallet on the wall and nearly wept as he read it; “Harwy’s room”, it declared. A few broken green plastic soldiers stood on an exposed beam along with a cache of children’s books and a package of stubby crayons. He noted that one of the books was open and he could just read where, in the space where the author had placed a placard that stated, “This book belongs to:” the name ‘Dudley’ was marked out and ‘Harry’ was written next to it.

Draco shook his head and followed the insistent tugging on his arm by Severus. They walked into the kitchen to observe Harry, standing on a step stool, stirring a large pan full of scrambled eggs. As they watched, a large boy – nearly as round as he was tall – waddled into the room and deliberately went over to Harry, while his mother’s back was turned, and bumped into Harry making the pan of eggs fly into the air. Harry reached out a hand and stopped the tumbling pan, freezing the pan and flying eggs in mid-air. Dudley gulped loudly, growing as pale as Draco, then screamed for his mother.

“Mum! He’s doing it again! Mum!”

Petunia turned around from setting the table and seeing what Harry had done, grabbed the pan out of the air, scooping up the eggs with it and slammed them into the sink, making everyone jump in alarm. She then grabbed Harry’s hands and placed them on the hot stove top, causing the boy to shriek in pain.

“What have I told you? No funny business, you good for nothing…” She grabbed the boy by the ear, as he held his red and blistered hands away from his body, and dragged him off the stool and across the kitchen, down the hall and stopped in front of the cupboard. She pushed the tearful child in, then closed the hasp and snapped the lock shut. “No food for you today!” She screamed through the vent, before closing it off, effectively shutting out the whimpers behind the door.

Severus looked down at the boy trembling beside him. “That was a normal day for him,” he explained gently. Draco looked up with terror-filled eyes as they were whisked away to another scene.

They landed in Diagon Alley in front of Madam Malkins’ shop. Severus pointed towards the hulking form of Hagrid escorting Harry in front of him. Draco grew red with embarrassment as he realised what scene they were in and that he had a prominent role in it. He reluctantly followed Severus and Harry inside the clothing store and watched, as Harry looked around, all wide-eyed with wonder until he caught the eye of the witch. She bustled over and showed him over to the fitting station, grabbing a robe off the rack and threw it over his head, tugging it on his arms and smoothing it down before turning up the edge and began to magically set the pins. Severus had a firm hold on him as he listened to the conversation between the two boys.

“A bit full of yourself, aren’t you, Draco?” the older man enquired. “As you can see, Harry is everything you said you were against. Essentially Muggleborn, scared – yet entranced by everything around him – and obviously being turned off by someone who sounds like his cousin. Yet, he was Slytherin enough to never let you know how close to the mark you were hitting with your vocal prejudices – and yet Gryffindor enough to stand up for his friend when you insulted him.

“You see, Draco, Harry won’t ever stand up for himself – but he will always support a friend. This is part of the abuse cycle – he himself is worthless, in the eyes of his abuser, and he begins to consider himself that way. It is part of his psyche now. He knows intellectually that he is not worthless, but he has not internalised it – and probably, despite therapy, never will. In his case, he will sublimate it into caring for others, nearly to his detriment. Yes, attack someone he cares for, and the lion comes out. He will place himself in harms way, if need be, in order to save someone else. Are you starting to understand?”

Draco nodded as he watched his arrogant prick of his self behave abominably.

The scene faded out to be replaced by some quick scenes from the previous year: discovering Fluffy, being attacked by the troll, their first flying lesson – which Snape just gave him a withering look for; discovering about Hagrid’s dragon egg, getting caught and the subsequent detention in the forest where Voldemort nearly attacked Harry again and ultimately in the mirror chamber when Harry discovered that Voldemort was attached like a parasite to Professor Quirrell and the struggle for the stone. Draco nearly sicked up at the sight of the Dark Lord writhing on the back of the now-dead professor’s head.

The vapours passed in front of his field of vision again and this time he was seeing the attack on Harry by his uncle the previous summer, the subsequent rescue and discovering that Severus was his father, finding out about the Parseltongue ability and the fact that he could hear Slytherin’s basilisk, bits of the trial of his relatives and how he was mobbed by the press as they had left the courtroom – something Harry had never told him about - and the looks on his classmates faces as they realised Harry was a Parselmouth. All colour drained from his face as he contemplated the implications of his actions the previous evening. Severus caught him as he wobbled on his feet as the true weight of his actions hit him, and pulled them both out of the Pensieve.

Draco stumbled out of Severus’ grasp and fell to the floor near Harry’s feet, unable to stay standing. He grabbed Harry’s left hand and looked down at the worn stone floor below him, unable to meet his brother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry Harry, I never should have… I didn’t know… I… Merlin, when you said cupboard I was imagining something like what we have at the Manor, not…” He shook his head in denial of what he had seen.

“Can you ever forgive me?” the blond asked sincerely, finally letting his gaze be captured by the bright green one above him.

“Of course I forgive you, you great git. Just think next time, alright?” Draco nodded his head. “Now get up, you’ll get dust all over that fine wool.” The Slytherin grinned and finally got to his feet, but found his shoulders were being guided by a pair of large, lean, potion-stained fingers towards a nearby chair.

“Sit, Draco. Now, you are also going to be responsible for a fifty-point loss for Slytherin and will be on Detention with me for the next two weeks starting now. Go into the classroom and you will discover a large vat of dead rats that need their organs removed and sorted. Now march!”

Draco sighed but headed out the main door to walk to the classroom nearby.

“I will be back momentarily, son, to restore your memories,” Severus mentioned before following Draco. Harry wished that didn’t have to happen, but knew that it must.

0000

When his father returned and placed his memories back in his head, Harry took a few moments to sink them in his Occlumency pools, placing them in the deepest waters he could find. He hated reliving them and preferred not to think about them when he could.

Severus watched the boy concentrate as he gathered a stack of fourth-year quizzes to mark. He brought them over to the table and sat across from his son. When Harry returned to the here and now, Severus looked up from his marking.

“Better?”

“Mm, hmm,” Harry replied, turning back to his history notes.

“Good, I wanted to discuss what our plans were for the holidays,” Severus said as he placed his quill down.

“Aren’t we staying here? I just assumed…”

“We could stay here, or we could go to Prince Manor. It will be your inheritance some day.”

“Drake would come with us?”

“Of course.” Severus nodded his agreement.

“Can we go then? I would like to see it.”

“Then we will go. Draco’s detention will be over by then. Let me call the house-elves and tell them to clean the place. Runeskin!” he called out to the air. A moment later a pop was heard in the room behind Harry and he turned in his seat to see a small little creature, much like Dobby – but with a clean, white towel wrapped like a toga around his body. He bowed when he saw Severus, which Severus returned with solemn dignity.

“Harry, this is Runeskin: the chief elf at Prince Manor. He runs the entire estate for me.” He turned to the elf. “Runeskin, this is my son with Mistress Lily, Harry. He, Master Draco and I will be arriving in two weeks for the holidays. Could you please make sure the manor is ready?”

“Of course, Master!” said Runeskin in a high squeaky voice. “All will be as you prefer. I will set up the heir’s bedroom and Master Draco’s room as well. Shall I find a tree?”

“No, I think we will do that on our own once we arrive. Thank you, Runeskin, and we will see you in two weeks.”

“As you wish, Master Severus!” the little creature said enthusiastically before snapping its fingers and disappearing with a crack.

“So, as Draco is currently busy – shall we have some one on one practice in the work-out room?”

Harry grinned broadly at this offer and joined his father at the door.

During the last couple of weeks of term, the boys were quite anxious to finish up and get to the manor. Draco especially. He had managed to lose Slytherin fifty points in one fell swoop and his housemates were not happy with him, especially after Nott’s loss of the same number of points the same night. On top of that, the snakes were no longer immune to points being taken by Snape and so were now – with the added 100 points loss – at the bottom in the standings. Behind Hufflepuff.

Crabbe and Goyle had moved their loyalty over to Nott earlier in the fall, when it became clear that Draco still supported his Godfather; and the other younger years – who had nearly worshipped at Draco’s feet the previous year – now shunned him in the Common Room, and at the table in the Great Hall.

Most of the Slytherin’s suspected Draco of his change in loyalties; and the fact that he was cordial - if not downright friendly - with Potter-Snape, was not making life easy for him. The prominent son of the top, free, Death Eater, and said son did not support his father’s politics? That was like a declaration of war to the other Death Eater spawn. They couldn’t retaliate against their head of house; he was too clever by half, so they attacked the younger, weaker one.

Draco never talked much about his time spent in Slytherin territory with the rest of his impromptu family; he tended to be close-mouthed about the subject, insisting everything was fine when asked by Harry or Severus. It was hard, though, to keep quiet during the last two weeks of term – the other boys in his dorm having ramped up their attacks in view of the point loss and his declared political leanings.

It came to an end, however, when Harry found Draco unconscious, and curled in on himself, in a little alcove near the Gryffindor tower. Harry would never have seen him if the older boy hadn’t made a moan, just as Harry walked past on his way back from a late Quidditch practice – the last of the season.

The practice had not gone well, Wood was in one of his obsessive moods, working the team long past their normal quitting time, and then the snowstorm had started – the thick, fluffy flakes coming down fast and furious – nearly causing a white-out condition on the pitch; and still, Wood insisted on practicing. Harry and the twins had looked like Yetis as they had trooped into the entrance hall, covered head to toe in snow. Dripping melting water all over the floor, the sound of a meow caused all three to begin running with alarm to avoid the wrath of Filch. The twins took off toward the kitchens to wheedle some food from the house-elves, but Harry just wanted his nice warm bed in the dorm.

Thinking the moan belonged to an injured animal, Harry’s Lumos nearly sputtered out when he realised it was Draco who was wedged behind the squat statue of Matilda the Merry, whom someone had already decorated for the holidays with a crown of holly, and a warm Ravenclaw scarf around her thick throat. Dropping his broom in the hall with a loud clatter, Harry managed to pull Draco out by his ankles to get a good look at the boy. He had been hit with several hexes, his robes torn, his Slytherin crest half torn off the breast and hanging by mere threads, his tie had been split in two – one half used to tie his hands behind his back and the other tied as a gag.

“Oh, Merlin!” Harry muttered as he began to loosen the knots. Draco moaned again, although he never woke up and Harry was a bit desperate, not knowing what he should do. He nearly cried with relief when he heard chattering students approaching. He turned around to see Ron and Hermione approaching from the direction of the Library.

“Ron! Hermione! Please, I need help here!” he cried out.

“Harry?” Hermione asked as they ran towards him crouched on the ground near Draco. “What happened?” she enquired as the two finally reached him. “Did Gryffindors do this?”

“I don’t think so – I think it was left as a message for me,” Harry ground out. “Hermione, get help – please! Get my dad, Madam Pomfrey – anyone, but please, hurry!” he pleaded.

Hermione didn’t waste anytime as she shoved her books and bag into Ron’s arms, nearly causing him to topple over, and took off down the hall. Ron squatted down next to Harry, and gave Draco a pitying look. “Why him, you suppose?”

“Because he just lost Slytherin fifty points last weekend, and they know he supports me and Dad.” Harry said quietly. He had pulled his jersey off and had tucked it underneath Draco’s head. He sat down on the floor with his back up against the wall, keeping watch for an adult. Ron set his pile of books down and sat cross-legged on the cold, stone floor across from Harry.

“Harry, I wanted to talk to you.” Harry looked over at the redhead, waiting for him to continue. “I reckon I’ve been a prat about you and your… dad.” His face contorted as he said the word, as if it literally pained him to admit that Snape was related to Harry that closely.

Harry snorted. “You reckon?” he prompted, a tad sarcastically. He probably could’ve been a little nicer, but he was really annoyed at how long Ron had taken to own up to his mistake. He was ready and willing to put the redhead through a bit of hell, first.

Rob blushed. “Alright, I know I have been. I just couldn’t get my head around all the information. I thought this would change everything between us, mate, and that you would become just like him. Blimey, you even look like him, now!” he pointed out.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Ron, just because my looks have changed, doesn’t mean I have. It’s still me up here!” He tapped his forehead for emphasis. “What finally changed your mind?” he asked, quite curious. He knew the twins, and Hermione, had been putting the pressure on.

“Duelling club, with my wand. I had been thinking all along about it, after seeing the way you were with him, and especially after Hermione tore me a new one – twice,” he said, with a rueful look on his face – colouring slightly in embarrassment. “I just couldn’t figure out how to apologise. Then my wand broke, and the way the professor made that Slytherin buy my new wand… well, here – look!” He proudly pulled a brand new Ollivander wand out of his robes and, after giving it a quick polish with his sleeve, handed it to Harry. “Ollivander came out last Wednesday night and had a huge pile of wands for me to try… this was the tenth one.”

“Nice,” Harry agreed after he took a good look at it and handed it back.

“Yeah,” Ron said as he gazed lovingly at it before placing it back in his robes. “Rosewood and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, and it chose me!” he grinned. “Anyway, your dad was brilliant the other weekend and I’ve been trying all this time to apologise to you… well, sorry, Harry.” He kept his gaze down in his lap as he picked at a loose string on the knees of his jeans, while he waited for Harry’s response. He almost didn’t hear Harry’s quiet “It’s alright – just don’t do it again” over the sound of running feet as Hermione came back with Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape in tow.

Harry and Ron both stood up as the adults hurried over, Pomfrey had her wand out scanning Draco and muttering several charms under her breath as she cancelled out the hexes. She then conjured a stretcher that hung in midair and levitated Draco onto it, handing Harry back his damp jersey.

“Severus, he has a few contusions and a concussion, as well as a broken rib. I’m taking him to the hospital wing.” She matched action to words as she began floating the stretcher back along the corridor.

“I’ll be there in a few moments, Madam,” he said before turning to Harry. “What happened?”

“I don’t know – I found him behind Matilda and managed to drag him out, but he wouldn’t wake up. He was tied up with these,” he said, handing the remnants of the tie to his father.

“I see. I…” he began, then changed tact. “Weasley, Granger – get back to your dorm, it’s nearly curfew. Thank you for your aid this evening,” he added, almost as an afterthought, softening his previous words. “Harry, grab your things and come with me.”

Harry gave his friends a wry smile, shooing off a worried Hermione who was nearly being dragged along the corridor by Ron, as he hastened after his father’s billowing robes the opposite way.

****

Severus and Harry decided to spend the night in the hospital wing sitting by Draco’s bed. He had awoken long enough to take some potions that Madam Pomfrey insisted he imbibe, then was sound asleep again in a few moments. Pomfrey assured the two Snapes that this was a normal sleep.

Severus tried to insist that Harry go back to the dorms or even down to his room in Severus’ quarters, but he didn’t push too hard and eventually gave in, after a token protest, to his son’s insistence that he wanted to stay near Draco.

Harry even managed to give it a valiant Gryffindor try – staying awake until one a.m. – before succumbing to sleep himself. Severus had lifted the boy easily in his arms and transferred him to the bed next to Draco’s, tucking him in under the covers, before resuming his watchful seat next to his godson.

****

“Uncle Sev?” The raspy whisper jarred Severus out of his dozing and he opened his eyes to see Draco looking up at him. He straightened up in his chair and leaned towards the boy, concern etched on his face.

“Draco, how are you feeling?”

“Like one of Hagrid’s hippogriffs ran me over.” The child winced a bit as he pushed himself upright. Severus helped him arrange the pillows and eased the boy back up against them.

“What brought on the attack, son?” Draco’s heart warmed at the appellation – he truly wished he really was Severus’ son, like Harry, but for now he was satisfied with godson.

“What didn’t bring it on?” he grimaced, sipping some water Severus handed him. “They’ve twigged on to the fact that Harry and I get along, and I told them that I supported you and Harry, not Lucius, and then the points loss occurred and that was the clincher.” He shrugged, but then regretted the movement as his rib – while mended – was still sore. He winced as he tried to find a more comfortable position. “I could be wrong, but I think they’ve kicked me out of the dorm, Uncle Sev.”

“They can believe that they have, but you will always be a Slytherin, Draco – unless you wish to be resorted?”

Draco shook his head. “No, you’re right: once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. But I don’t think I should go back…”

Severus agreed. “No, not right now. We’ll see again after the holidays. In the meantime, I shall move your belongings to my rooms and you can stay there until end of term. It’s just a few more days. I’ll fashion you a Portkey, just like Harry’s, that will deposit you into the room and alert me.

“Thanks, Uncle Sev.”

“You should have told me, Draco, that things were getting intolerable. I may be your head of house, but that does not make me omniscient,” he finally chided.

“I thought I could handle it,” was the low explanation.

“Hmmpf!” Severus snorted, a little too loudly it seemed, as Harry rolled over in his bed and opened his eyes. They immediately brightened up as he saw his brother awake.
He launched himself out of bed and onto Draco’s, hugging the other boy, before giving him a light punch in the shoulder.

“You prat, Malfoy! You had me so worried last night when I found you behind the statue. What were you doing up there anyway?”

“Looking for you, if you must know. But the Weasley girl…”

“Ginny,” Harry supplied.

“Yeah, ok, Ginny. Anyway, she said you were at practice, and I had got maybe a corridor away when these sixth-year Slytherins ran into me, and… well… I guess you saw the result.” He coloured up and lowered his head, unable to look his brother in the eye. But Harry gave him another hug.

“I’m just glad you’re ok. What now, Dad?” he asked, turning to Severus.

“When Madam releases Draco, he will move to my rooms for the rest of term and will get a Portkey just like yours. We will see after that.” He rose up out of his chair. “I’m going to go alert Poppy that you are awake, Draco.” He strode away as Harry slipped onto the vacated chair.

“So, what did you want to see me about?” Harry asked in a low voice.

“Huh?”

“Last night, when you came to the tower… what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh, that… well, have you planned out what you are going to get for Uncle Sev?” he asked in a low whisper, conspiratorially.

Harry shook his head. “No, I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to get it. I wasn’t expecting any presents last year and so didn’t get one for Ron… I’ve never bought presents before,” he confided. “And I really want to get some for my friends, you and Dad.”

“Well, Uncle Sev may take us, after term is over, to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, or there’s the way I use – owl order.”

“Owl order?”

“Yes, you request some catalogues from the stores you want to shop at, and then there are order forms in the back. You just fill them out and place your Gringott’s vault number on the form and they take payment that way,” he explained.

Now that Harry thought about it, he had seen several students perusing large catalogues in the common room lately. The bookcases had several large tomes from the stores – he had just never looked at them, not being the acquisitive sort.

“Well that sounds easy enough,” he agreed. “So do you want to get Severus separate presents or something together?” he asked the blond.

“Both,” came the reply. “But I’ll tell you later, I see breakfast!” And sure enough, Harry looked in the direction that Draco was eyeing and saw Madam Pomfrey, followed by Severus, floating three trays of food towards the boys. Harry made to get up and let his father take his seat back, but Severus just waved him back and summoned another chair over to Draco’s bedside.

“Eat up, gentlemen,” the matron directed. “Then Mr Malfoy is free to vacate my premises.”

The boys grinned at this pronouncement and dug into the delicious food. Severus picked his way slowly through his eggs and toast, savouring the coffee afterwards. He was going to need the caffeine infusion to get through the rest of the day. And he had sixth-year NEWTs class today. He grinned evilly to himself as he decided that a change in curriculum was about to occur.

****

Lucius Malfoy was a patient man. He was willing to nurse plans along, letting them grow naturally, tenderly, until they came to full fruition. He did this with his colleagues at the ministry; cultivating his contacts with each and every one, using his vast wealth to ease consciences and place people in strategic positions for when he would need them at some vague, future date. His mind contained a vast network of these contacts and sycophants, ordered by position, influence and skill sets, as well as vital personal information on each person; he could recall the correct person he needed in any situation without a moment’s hesitation.

He loved secrets, too. He had numerous secrets about all sorts of people – and they all knew that he knew. He made sure of that. He was immensely proud that the Dark Lord had entrusted his secret with Lucius: his little diary.

His lord had never been specific as to when it was to be used – just that it contained the ability to open the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Lucius had been quite pleased with himself when he had managed to palm it off on Arthur’s youngest. The spawn of a Muggle-loving fool, loosing a monster that killed Mudbloods? Perfect. And from all accounts, she seemed to be falling under the book’s influence quite easily. Already there had been three attacks and the students, as well as the teachers, were quite frightened. Even the school governors were getting perturbed, and there were rumblings around council chambers – fuelled by Lucius – that Dumbledore was being quite slow in taking care of this matter and ensuring the safety of the students; that he was obviously losing his touch.

His associate’s sons were reporting to him quite regularly concerning the news from the school, but lately their reports greatly disturbed him. First, there had been the news that the Potter brat was really a Snape and that father and son were getting along quite well. So, the traitor was showing his colours! That had incensed him for weeks as he’d pondered all the implications. Then there had been the trial of the whelp’s relatives and now the whole world knew about Snape’s true allegiances. He had attended the trial and seen for himself the evidence that the brat had been ‘abused’. Abuse, hah! He obviously was a troublemaker at home and had been disciplined appropriately, just as he did with Draco.

Draco! Now there was a sore spot! He slapped his latest bit of correspondence down on his desk and began pacing his ornate, and well-appointed, home office, stopping every so often to pick up and admire some small object de arts that were strategically placed around the room. Draco was not living up to the Malfoy name and heritage. He had tried beating some sense into him over the summer, but the child had escaped - when Lucius’ back was turned - to his Godfather.

Almost from the first week back to school, he began hearing intimations that Draco was befriending Potter – obviously at Snape’s behest, Lucius had originally thought. Draco couldn’t possibly be doing this on his own! So, to remind the boy where his loyalties needed to be, despite the report he had received from Goyle the younger, he had rewarded his son for making Seeker by endowing the team with top of the line professional brooms.

He stopped to gaze at a painting of Narcissa, holding an infant Draco, which hung over the mantelpiece; gazing Madonna-like over the room. Once, the painting had reflected his pride that he had been given such a fine son to carry on his name, legacy and position in the Dark Lord’s ranks. Now that angelic little face was turning into the embarrassment of his family name.

It was all there in the latest news: Draco had renounced his father’s politics and goals and sided with Potter-Snape; he had disgraced his family. The older Slytherin’s had finally taken matters into their own hands and had evicted Draco from Slytherin last evening.

Now Lucius had to decide what his own actions were going to be. He sat in a leather chair near the blazing floo and stroked the heads of his boarhounds as he pondered his choices, a glass of port nearby; should he have the whelp removed? No, too messy – and it would be too obvious where the order had come from. However, Narcissa was still quite young – only thirty-five – she could bear him a better heir. He would have to insist on no coddling this time though; she had been too indulgent with Draco and look where it had gotten them.

Perhaps disowning? That way he could still get a new heir and be rid of the useless one. Twelve years invested in the child gone to waste. But Lucius was, if nothing else, a practical businessman. He knew when to rid the books of useless inventory, when it became too much of a risk to hold onto. He had gotten the reports from his plants in the Ministry that Severus was putting together a case to have Draco removed from Lucius’ custody. Well, if Severus was so keen on stealing his son away from him, teaching him to turn his back on his name and heritage – then he was welcome to him.

Flicking his wand, after contemplating the painting one last time, he reduced it to ashes, rose to walk back to his desk, and a waiting owl, and prepared to contact his solicitor.

Harry stood with the handful of remaining students, waving off the last of the carriages as they pulled away from the school. Carolling out to their remaining classmates, the departing children headed down the snowy carriageway towards Hogsmeade and the waiting train he could see puffing over the trees. The several students, who were staying behind this year, soon tore off into the thick, packable snow, to begin snowball fights and build snowmen. Harry turned back into the school to finish his packing. His dad had said they would be leaving for Prince Manor after lunch. He was the last remaining Gryffindor in the school – all the others joining their families for the holidays. Even the Weasleys had taken off.

Harry had spent the last few days in Gryffindor tower perusing the catalogues he’d found there. He had found several items for his friends that he hoped they would like. He still hadn’t found anything for his dad, or his god-brother, but he and Draco were going to peruse Draco’s collection of catalogues tonight to search for Severus, and Harry was hoping to get inspiration for a gift for Draco.

He ran up the staircase, which was gratefully cooperating today. When he passed the second floor he noticed that the floor was wet again – Myrtle must be having another bad day, he thought. He reached the seventh floor in record time, barely breathing hard. The Fat Lady was already celebrating, with a wreathe around her head – slightly tipped – and a glass of something bubbly in her hand, as she groggily peered at Harry then waved him in, hiccupping the whole time.

He hurried up to his dormitory and finished throwing things into his trunk; well, not exactly throwing – he remembered the admonition from the summer to never have his trunk look messy again – but he was packing quickly. He made sure his practice snitch was tucked away safely, and he shrank his broom to fit across the top of his clothes before closing the lid, locking the hasps and straps and hoisting the trunk up on end. He turned around and nearly fell over as his heart jumped in his throat. His father was leaning on the doorjamb behind him, smirk in place, arms crossed casually.

“Dad! Don’t do that! You nearly gave me heart failure!” Harry accused, regaining his equilibrium and breath. His father only chuckled.

“I wondered how long it was going to take you to realise I was there, scamp.” He walked over to run a loving hand over Harry’s long hair then gave him a swat for good measure. “Are you ready? Yes? Good.” He drew his wand and with a slight movement murmured, “Locomotor trunk” and Harry watched as his trunk floated up in the air and headed towards the door.

“That’s a great spell, Dad!”

“Yes it is, isn’t it? Now where’s your winter cloak – ah, here it is. Grab Hedwig’s cage and we’ll be off. Keep up now!” Severus strode quickly through the door and Harry followed quickly on his heels, the owl cage banging against his side. She had been told to meet him when they left after lunch.

They followed the trunk all the way to the front door where Severus’ house-elf awaited with an already large accumulation of luggage, all matching. Harry’s trunk lowered itself next to the pile, and Harry dropped the cage and his cloak on top of it.

“I see Draco is ready,” he said sarcastically, eyeing the huge pile.

“Indeed,” was his father’s only comment, but it was said with a resigned sigh. “Come along, Harry, we are dining with the staff for lunch.” He led the way up the short marble staircase toward the Great Hall and Harry, once again, followed in his wake – but well back from the billowing robes.

Dumbledore greeted them as they approached the large round table that replaced the house tables during the holidays, Harry seating himself next to Draco. The young Slytherin had recovered quickly from his attack, and now wore a set of plain robes with the Hogwarts crest on it as well as a multi-hued school tie. They still hadn’t figured out what Draco was going to do after the holidays were over, but for now they all felt this was the safest.

Thankfully, the meal was over quickly and Severus trailed behind the boys as they politely took their leave of the table and rushed to the pile of luggage to grab their cloaks. Harry had his on first and picked up his birdcage to step outside and call Hedwig to him.

She came floating down from the skies at his whistle, barely discernable from the large fluffy flakes that were falling. As she came nearer, though, she took on more substance and Harry braced himself as she landed on his outstretched arm, delicately taking the owl treat he handed her. She willingly entered the cage for him, after nibbling once on his ear in affection, and he returned inside to add her cage back to the pile. Runeskin, Severus’ loyal house-elf, nodded once in satisfaction and, laying a hand atop the pile, disappeared with a loud “snap”. Harry just grinned for a moment at the now-clear spot where the luggage had just been. I love magic! he thought to himself.

Severus nodded to himself, slung his cloak over his shoulders and pulled on his gloves, as he led the two boys out the main doors, into the snowfall, and the trio made their way down to the main gates slung between the guardian stone boars. As soon as they had passed the barrier, Severus gathered the boys to him and Apparated them to the Manor.

Harry was proud of himself: he managed to stay upright this time, and kept his lunch down. Draco, on the other hand, looked as if this was something he did everyday – not a hair out of place, and he stood there looking calm and collected. Harry threw him an annoyed look, but then looked at his father as the man chuckled above him.

“Son, you are the most graceful person I have ever seen on a broom, but your skills at the other types of magical transportation are woeful to behold.”

“Thanks, Dad – appreciate it,” Harry said sarcastically. He finally looked up and gasped as he took in the sight in front of him.

An old Seventeenth Century manor was spread out in front of him, complete with a large circular stone fountain in the centre of the courtyard. It was currently turned off for the season, but Harry could imagine it flowing, with sunlight sparkling in the water spray. Red bricks paved the courtyard and Severus led the boys around the fountain to the large front doors. Two wings boxed in the south and north sides of the courtyard and the main house faced east. Harry could count four different levels above ground and he was sure there was at least one level underground. He noticed a large dome on top of the roof, and when they entered the vestibule he looked up and saw that it was made entirely of stained glass, the colours sparkling as they were reflected on the various shiny surfaces of the large lobby.

Snape twirled off his cloak and hung it over his arm as he turned to face the boys. “Welcome to Prince Manor! Ah, Runeskin, will you please show the gentlemen to their rooms? Then lead them back to the conservatory, thank you,” he said sincerely to the house-elf as the little man bowed to his master. “Harry, Draco, I will see you in a few minutes and we shall go over the house rules.” Severus stalked off down the right-handed corridor and the boys followed the house-elf up the curving staircase that led to the next floor.

This floor was carpeted in thick Persian carpets that ran the length of the halls. Various doors led off the main track, which Runeskin described as being mostly guest rooms although there was a drawing room on this floor for the family’s use in addition to a larger one on the first floor, along with various smaller parlours. Both boys gazed at the myriad of family portraits that glared down at them from the walls, and murmured to themselves as they passed below them. Runeskin had led them along the south-running hall that ended in an east-west junction. Harry guessed that the house was in the shape of a large ‘H’. Taking the left turn, Runeskin led them eastward and stopped in front of a large oak door halfway down.

“This is the Heir’s suite, young Master Snape. Your father’s rooms are at the end of this hall, and Master Malfoy’s suite is directly across from yours.” The elf indicated the other door across from Harry’s.

Draco walked over and opened his own door. He seemed pleased with what he saw. “This suits me quite well,” he commented. “Well, Snape, open your door! What are you waiting for, an invitation? It’s your room!” he pointed out.

Harry grinned a bit at his brother and, taking a breath, grabbed hold of the knob and opened the door. He had never in his life seen a room like the one in front of him – at least not outside of one of Aunt Petunia’s decorating magazines. A huge four-poster bed dominated one side of the room with hangings in a heavy brocade of deep wine and silver threads and a matching duvet. Large French doors led to a balcony that was currently knee deep in snow, but Harry could see that the balcony was deep enough to accommodate a few chairs and table when the weather was better. Hedwig’s cage already hung on a stand near the doors. The owl was asleep, chest feathers fluffed up and moving with the slight breeze of her breath.

Across the richly carpeted room was an indoor seating area in front of the floo, with a small chesterfield sofa, a matching wing chair, and a low table in front of them. An old fashioned roll-top desk stood in one corner complete with writing supplies of paper, ink and freshly cut quills. A bookcase that already held several dozen reference books stood nearby. There were two doors that led from the sitting room; the one on Harry’s left, he discovered, led to a dressing room complete with built in armoires for his clothes, shoes and accessories. He could see his belongings were already put away and they barely took up any space in the large room.

The other door led to his own private bathing room that held a deep roman tub, a separate shower and stacks of fluffy towels awaiting his use. His kit was already laid out on the counter next to the sink.

“Nice, huh?” Draco asked over his shoulder. “Mine is set up just the same. You’d never know Uncle Severus lived like this…”

“I didn’t,” came the low voice from the main entrance to the room. “This was my mothers inheritance – I didn’t visit here very often growing up, my father wasn’t welcome. Once my grandparents died, it passed to my mother who only held it for two years before she passed away. I rarely stay here, but it has been in the family for generations and is one of the safest places in Britain, with layers upon layers of protective wards woven around it.

“The Dark Lord does not know where it is, nor does Dumbledore – although he is aware of its existence. Now, come down to the conservatory and we will discuss the rules for the next few weeks.” He beckoned them to follow him and he led them back to the first-floor and through some glass doors into a beautiful glassed-in room that arched up and away from them. Three stories high, it was filled with plants, trees and flowers. Several catwalks, with cascading baskets of flowers and ivies, crisscrossed above them. A black, wrought iron circular stair case led up to these, as well as to two separate balconies that were attached to the house. It was a stark contrast to the winter scene on the other side of the windows. A narrow paved path led amongst the flora to a hidden central gazebo that contained a table and four chairs. A steaming tea service was waiting on the table and Severus served the boys before sitting down himself.

“Today is basically a get-settled-in day. We will have dinner later in the main dining room; Runeskin will show you the way later. You may visit and explore most rooms except the lab down in the basement. It is well marked, so unless I invite you in, avoid it. There is a workout room, also in the basement, with the same equipment as the one I have at Hogwarts. I expect you to keep up in those studies. This floor also houses the library and I expect both of you to make good use of it, completing your holiday essays early.” Both boys groaned at that prospect. Severus just smirked.

“Now, I expect you to help out around here by keeping your rooms picked up and to help with the meal preparations. Any punishments you will receive whilst here will always include the cleaning up after meals.” He took another long sip of his tea before addressing his sons again.

“Tomorrow, we will go get the Christmas tree for the family parlour; we own a nice stand of evergreens on the property. Any questions?”

“Can we go flying?” Draco asked.

“If you insist. There is a pitch behind the house. Stay within the wards, gentlemen – you’ll be able to feel them when you head outside. Dress warmly, and for Merlin’s sake – no harebrained stunts out there!”

He smiled to himself as the two twelve-year olds made plans to go flying and he eventually shooed them off before heading back to his private study to catch up on some journal reading.

****

Later that evening, Harry and Draco were camped out in front of the fire, brightly dancing in the floo in Harry’s room; catalogues spread out before them. Draco had a huge assortment from all the popular wizarding stores, and Harry was frankly amazed at what was offered for sale.

“Draco, look at this… a cloak with shielding spells woven into the fabric as well as everlasting charms and weather repelling charms… Merlin! Look at the price!”

“Uncle already has one,” Draco smirked. “Got it for him last year. I was thinking on the lines of some rare books or ingredients for him,” he suggested.

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I don’t know… let’s look in this catalogue, it’s the premier potions listing.” He slapped a huge volume on top of the stack and opened it up. Harry abandoned the Madam Malkin’s tome and scooted closer to Draco to have a look, propping himself up on his elbows as they discussed various offerings. It took them a better part of an hour, but they managed to agree on a combination present of book, ingredients and a new gold cauldron and split up the purchases equitably. Harry had also gotten an idea of what to get Draco, after watching the blond eye several catalogues with longing.

“I’ll use Hedwig in the morning to take these orders,” Harry said as he finished filling out the order sheets while Draco gathered up the catalogues and prepared to head back to his room for the evening. “Good night, Draco.”

“’Night, Harry,” his brother said, grinning as he waved farewell to Harry.

Harry had kept back the catalogue he wanted to order Draco’s present from and when he was sure Draco was gone, he pulled it out from where he had stuffed it under the back of his shirt, and added that order to the pile for Hedwig. Satisfied, he whistled tunelessly to himself as he prepared to go to bed, entering his closet. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Runeskin in there, putting away some more things out of a box.

“I’m sorry, Master Harry. Your father had me return to Hogwarts to pick up some things and he said to grab this box from your room – I thought I would just put them away for you,” he explained. Harry went over to investigate the box and discovered it was all the presents and get-well cards that were sent over after the disastrous Quidditch game. He had never gone through the box, and was glad his dad had remembered it. He took the box from Runeskin, explaining he wanted to go through it himself. The old elf smiled knowingly before snapping himself out of the room. After changing into his pyjamas, Harry took it out to his bed and began sorting through it.

There were cards from all his dorm mates; even Ron had sent a small one with just his name signed to it. There were a lot of cards from girls, not just the Gryffindor contingent, but the other houses as well. That really embarrassed him, as he really wasn’t interested in girls just yet and he couldn’t for the life of him understand what they saw in his scrawny arse.

There were loads of chocolates and candies, even some joke candies from the twins. Harry tried out a few of the more innocuous looking ones, and decided that Fred and George needed some work with their recipes. He kept back some Frogs and a box of Every Flavour Beans and shoved the rest back into the box, while he opened up his cards.

The last in the stack was a singing card from Ron’s little sister, Ginny. Ron had told him the year before that Ginny’d had a crush on Harry since she was little, although she seemed rather shy around him in the Common Room. She was quiet and kept to herself, mostly, sitting at Hermione’s table and writing… Merlin! She was writing in an old diary! That’s where he had seen a diary before!

Harry catapulted off the bed and out his door and ran down the hallway to his father’s room, knocking loudly on it. When no answer came, he pounded his head with his fists – where could his father be? He suddenly remembered his father telling him that the bond they shared could be used to find either of them. He calmed his breathing and closed his eyes, reaching deep inside him for the thread of the bond. His father had said, when he could visualise the thread inside of him, he would be able to open his eyes and see it stretched out from his body. It took only a moment, but he found it, and opening his eyes he saw that he could actually see a glimmer of it running ahead of him.

“Brilliant!” he crowed, as he took off down the corridor, following the bright string which he could view with his enhanced wizarding sight. It led him on a merry chase along the floor and down to the first level along a corridor he hadn’t been down yet. It went through a set of tall double doors and, after knocking on them to announce his presence; he entered and found himself in the library wing. His father was ensconced in an old, leather, wing back chair, legs propped on a matching ottoman, reading in front of the fireplace.

“Harry? What’s the matter, son?” Severus put down his book to peer at his breathless progeny.

“Dad, I think I know who has the diary!” Now that he had reached his goal and the adrenaline rush was dissipating, Harry was beginning to realise he had left his room in just his pyjamas and had forgotten to grab a dressing gown or slippers, and he was getting cold. He shivered and Severus tossed him an afghan and indicated he sit on the ottoman.

“What do you mean, you know who has the diary?” Severus asked after he conjured a cup of hot cocoa for Harry, and summoned a pair of slippers for the boy’s feet.

So, Harry explained he had been going through the box and had come across Ginny’s card.

“She is always writing in it, Dad, and while I was thinking about it, she never turns the pages – always writing on the same page. Isn’t that kind of strange?” he asked.

“It is. Do you remember where she got the diary?”

“No, but I do remember the twins telling me a story about when they went to get their school supplies this summer, they ran into Mr Malfoy at the book store and he and their dad almost got into a fight. Maybe he managed to slip it to her then?”

“It is possible. Now that is interesting…” He rubbed his hand on his chin, feeling the stubble prickle under his fingers. “Is there anything about Miss Weasley that strikes you as odd?” he enquired after a moments quiet introspection.

Harry thought about this a bit before he answered. “Well, she’s pretty shy, doesn’t really talk to people, and is acting a bit… well… depressed. I know the twins are starting to get worried, don’t know about Ron – we’ve just started talking again and the subject hasn’t come up. Percy is off in his own little Prefect world; he has a new girlfriend and spends most of his spare time with her. I honestly don’t think he would notice if anything was wrong with Ginny. They never struck me as being close,” he added as a caveat.

“Alright, Son, let me handle this from here. Between this information and discovering the approximate area of where the entrance is, we may be able to finally nip this in the bud. I’ll call on the Weasleys in the morning – it’s too late, now. Go get some sleep.”

Harry placed his cup on the table next to his father and gave the man a quick hug. “Thanks, Dad. I hope she’ll be alright.”

“So do I, Harry.”

Severus waited until after breakfast to call on the Weasleys. Draco had decided to have a lie-in for the morning, so it was just Harry and Severus when Severus headed towards a small lounge on the first floor and its enormous floo connection. Harry watched as his father took a pinch of powder and threw it in the fire. After announcing, “The Burrow”, he stuck his head into the bright green flames.

Molly was just cleaning up from breakfast, with Ginny beside her, when Severus’ head appeared in the floo behind her. She smiled at the professor as Ginny went white and nearly dropped the mug she was drying.

“Severus, it is good to see you again! How is Harry doing? Ron isn’t still being an idiot, is he?” she asked, her hand automatically going for the spoon tucked in her apron.

“He’s fine, Molly, and no, Ron is not a problem any longer. I actually need to speak with you and Arthur about something; may I step over?”

“Of course! Ginny go get your father, please. I believe he is out in his shed.” She turned around as the flames flared higher and the Potions master stepped through. As they waited for her daughter to return with Arthur, Molly poured out some tea for them, which Severus gratefully accepted.

Arthur Weasley stamped in through the kitchen door a few moments later, Ginny following, divesting themselves of warm wraps and snowy boots. Arthur also took a long sip of the fortifying liquid and Ginny made as if to leave the room to the adults, but a summons from her professor stopped her.

“Miss Weasley this concerns you, if you would have a seat.” He indicated the bench next to her parents across from him. The youngest Weasley turned back to the table slowly.

“Severus, is everything alright with Ginny’s class work? Are things that bad that you need to have a conference now?” Molly asked, concern etched into her face as her youngest warily took the seat.

“Her class work is fine, Molly. This has to do with a certain small diary that is in your daughter’s possession.” He turned to look at Ginny Weasley who was visibly shaken, her face colourless.

“Ginny?” Molly prompted.

Looking terrified, Ginny’s eyes darted from her parents to Professor Snape and back again, clearly frightened. “I – I threw it away!” she sputtered. “Before term ended. Honest, Professor! It was awful, Mum!” The small girl burst into tears as she buried her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“Shhh, shhh,” Molly comforted. “It’ll be alright, sweetheart. What was so awful about this diary?”

Ginny lifted her head to stare at her mother with wide, anxious eyes. “It talked back! There were times where I couldn’t remember where I had been, or what I had done… One time I came back with chicken feathers all over my robes and what looked like blood – but I didn’t have any cuts on me! Right after that the message was found on the wall near the second-floor girls bathroom.”

“Myrtle’s bathroom?” Molly asked. “What message?”

Severus paraphrased, “‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, beware the Heir of Slytherin!’”

Molly gasped, then looked askance at the Potions master. “That’s an old wives tale, Severus; the Chamber never existed. Binns told us all about it when I was a student there. It’s just a legend to scare the students, all about some monster that Salazar Slytherin has guarding some imagined chamber of all his knowledge,” she insisted. “Poppycock!”

“Oh, I assure you, Molly, the Chamber is real and has been reopened,” he assured the sceptical Haus Frau, who only snorted to herself.

Ginny was nodding her head in agreement with her teacher, and kept going – trying to purge the entire story out of her system. “I was always finding myself near there without remembering going there at all,” she whispered. She finally looked over at the professor. “What is happening to me?” she pleaded as she began trembling again and her father placed a comforting arm around his youngest as well. Severus handed him a small vial of Calming Draught, which was one of the regular potions he kept stocked in his robes.

“Ginny, what have I told you about objects that talk to you?” he chided gently, handing the vial to his daughter, coaxing her to drink.

“‘Don’t trust anything, unless you can see where it keeps its brain’,” she murmured, after downing the draught. “But he was so sincere, and he listened about everything… but he kept asking odd questions, especially after I told him about Harry.”

“Like what, Miss Weasley?” Severus prompted. If this book had an interest in his son, he wanted to know why.

“He was really interested in Harry’s story,” she sniffled, finally gaining control over herself, the colour coming back to her cheeks as the potion took effect. “About how Harry had defeated You-Know-Who when he was barely one, and his adventures from last year and all. He was really interested in knowing he was your son, sir.”

“I see, and did this disembodied friend have a name?” Severus did not let his worry show on his face, but he really did not like this turn of events.

“Tom Riddle,” she whispered. Severus stayed quiet - although Arthur frowned at mention of the name - for Severus knew who Riddle was. Snape waited for the other shoe to drop, and it didn’t take long before Arthur’s mind provided the leather. The man turned to look at Severus with horror on his face and Snape only lifted an eyebrow and gave a slight nod.

“Ginny, honey, you say you threw the diary away?” Molly asked, ignoring the men. “Where did you get rid of it?”

”I flushed it down a toilet in Moaning Myrtles bathroom,” came the reply. Molly looked satisfied, but Severus wasn’t so sure they should be, knowing the tendency of the ghost to get perturbed at perceived slights. Ginny looked back up at her professor. “Sir, how did you find out it was me?”

“You have a good friend in Harry, Miss Weasley,” he said gently. “It was he who remembered last night that you had been writing in a strange diary, and that you were not acting the way a first-year should. He was quite worried for you; he knew what the diary was capable of and we’ve been trying to discover who had been letting the monster loose.” Ginny gave a slight upturn of her lips when she realised Harry was concerned about her, but it was quickly supplanted by guilt as she remembered she was the one responsible for the attacks.

“Tell him ‘thank you’ for me, would you please?” she asked quietly.

“I will, Miss Weasley. He’ll be glad to know the diary is no longer affecting you,” he assured her.

She nodded her head then asked the question uppermost on her mind. “Am I to be expelled, sir?”

“Whatever for, Miss Weasley?”

But before she could answer, her father jumped in instead. “Severus, what has been going on? What monster? This is the first I’ve heard of this!” Arthur demanded.

“I’m afraid your daughter has been possessed by the spirit that lived in the diary,” he explained. “She has unwittingly loosed a basilisk on several occasions, which hasn’t killed – but only by sheer luck. Nevertheless, she is not to be held responsible, and thus will not be expelled,” he assured the frightened first-year. “The spirit has duped many people in the past, and may yet again in the future. You see we were warned that a diary, containing a way to open the Chamber of Secrets, had been snuck into the school. The diary had originally belonged to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and was secreted on a student by Lucius Malfoy.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at this reveal, and he balled up his left fist as if ready for another fight with the aristocrat. “That fight, in Flourish and Blotts! Why that conniving little…”

“Indeed, Weasley,” Severus calmed. “You and your family were set-up. I’m sure Lucius would have thought it funny that the daughter of a ‘Blood-Traitor’,” he used his fingers to make quote marks in the air, “was letting loose a creature reportedly guaranteed to go after muggle-borns. I’m just thankful that your daughter finally had the presence of mind to get rid of the damned book. Do not go looking for it again, Miss Weasley! I can’t impress upon you enough, how dangerous doing so would be! You were being possessed by the Dark Lord himself.”

Ginny, who had regained some colour, lost all of it again at this statement, and her freckles shown starkly against the parchment white of her skin. “I won’t, Professor, I never want that feeling again!” she insisted. Molly clutched her daughter as if she was going to lose the girl right then, and Ginny, feeling vulnerable, didn’t put up a protest, but huddled in her mother’s arms.

Severus soon took his leave of the Weasleys and headed off to Hogwarts to report his findings to Dumbledore.

****

Dumbledore and Snape headed for the second-floor girls bathroom and discovered it had been flooded once again. Myrtle was moaning away in a corner when they entered, misery etched on her transparent face.

Severus was all for banishing the sobbing spirit, but Dumbledore motioned him to be quiet.

“Myrtle,” he softly called, walking slowly toward her alcove.

“Who – who’s there?” came the moist reply. She peeked out from behind her fingers, and saw Dumbledore.

“Oh, it’s you, Professor,” she sniffed, lowering her hands. “You aren’t supposed to be in here, you know; it’s a girls bathroom,” she said pointedly.

“I know Myrtle, and we will leave soon, I promise you,” he assured her. “Myrtle, a young girl was in here yesterday, prior to the students leaving, and she threw a book…”

“Right through my head!” the spirit screamed. Severus winced slightly at the sound as it nearly pierced his eardrums. “I was just sitting in the U-bend when it came crashing down the pipes! I was so mad, I exploded the toilet all over the room!” She whirled in place, diaphanous school robes flaring around her as she indicated the sodden floor.

“Yes, I see!” Albus said with a wry grin in place. “Do you know where the book is now?”

“Uh, huh…” Myrtle was losing interest quickly in the conversation, as she had really liked the way her robes had billowed when she twirled; she began pirouetting around the room, eyeing herself in the mirrors as she flashed past them. Severus was quickly losing his temper.

“Where is the book, you anno…” he modified his words and tone of voice after a glare from Dumbledore, “… ah, Myrtle?”

“Oh, it flew over there somewhere…” She motioned with her hand towards a rear stall and Snape moved as if to go to it. “But it’s not there anymore,” she said in a sing-song voice.

Severus counted to ten – slowly – before turning around to ask the obvious, “Where is it now?”

“A student came in, found it and took it,” she stated, continuing to twirl around, her head cocked to the side, watching as her hair streamed around as well.

“Which student!” Snape nearly yelled in frustration. That stopped her in mid-turn and she flew down to hover in front of him.

“How the bloody hell am I supposed to know?” she screamed at him. “Do you expect me to know every student that comes in here? I’ve been here for fifty years; I don’t keep track of them! I wasn’t even paying attention; I was contemplating my death. Some girl came in here and when she left, the book was gone. Oh, nobody cares about me,” she groaned in self-pitying tones, “and how I feel about this! I’m just old boring, moaning, miserable Myrtle. Nothing can hurt me, because I’m a ghost!” She turned away and started to drift, the sobs starting up again. Before she could get a good head of steam going, the headmaster stopped her one last time.

“Myrtle, was this before or after the students had left for the trains?”

“Before!” she cried, then dived into the nearest stall, nearly splashing them with her exit.

Severus looked over at Dumbledore, disgusted. “Well, old man, we are back to where we started!”

“Indeed we are, Severus. Although, we do know what the diary looks like, so we can at least spread the word amongst the Prefects, when the children return, as to what we are looking for. In the meantime, you have two boisterous teens at your home, and I’m sure you need to get back to them.” Dumbledore popped a sweet in his mouth from one of his cavernous pockets, and smiled knowingly at Severus.

Snape ignored his superior, rubbed his hands over his face in frustration and nodded. “Yes, I do. But we can’t let this go, Albus, we need to find out who has that diary!”

“We will, my boy. We will.” Dumbledore led his Potions master away from the wet bathroom, and up to his office so that Severus could floo to his manor.

****

“Ginny doesn’t have it anymore?” Harry asked incredulously as they all sat around the kitchen table for lunch. Draco had finally woken up and was just joining them for his first meal of the day.

Severus shook his head. “And it wasn’t in the bathroom when the headmaster and I went to check. Myrtle indicated someone else came in and took it before the carriages left, but she didn’t see whom.” He dug into his own portion of meat pie savouring the textures and spices as they rolled over his tongue. “For now,” he continued, “we’ll manage as we have been. Whoever has it can’t get into the school right now, so let’s enjoy the break – shall we?”

The boys readily agreed, and when lunch was over they kitted themselves out in warm cloaks and knitted accessories to trudge out to the evergreen grove.

“Do we cut the tree down like Muggles?” Harry asked his father as they hiked through the knee-deep drifts. He could almost hear Draco roll his eyes at his question, but his brother gratefully remained silent.

“No, we use magic to transplant the tree into a pot of earth. However, we do need to decide upon which tree would be best,” he explained. “Here we are. Alright gentlemen, start looking for likely looking trees.”

Harry and Draco wandered along the gently sloping hillside looking at all the trees, dismissing several as too short, some as too tall, too narrow or too fat. Harry was despairing until he came upon a tree a little further up on the hillside, set aside from all the others. It seemed perfect, so he called his family over. Severus eyed the tree suspiciously.

“I wonder,” he said aloud as he parted the branches nearly two-thirds the way up the tree and peered in at the trunk. “Come see this, boys,” he beckoned, and Harry and Draco joined him. “Do you see that piece of ribbon?” Harry came closer to where his father was standing and peeked in to espy a red and green ribbon that seemed as fresh as the day it was tied to the trunk. “That, Harry, was placed there by your mother the year we were married. It’s enchanted so that it expands as the tree grows and will never fall apart. She said she wanted to know this tree from all the others when it came time to bring it in for Christmas. She planted it as a seedling thirteen years ago. I think it is quite apropos that you have chosen it for our tree this year.”

Harry felt a warmth in the core of his being as the story was told. “Dad, maybe we shouldn’t move it; will it be alright?”

“It will be perfectly fine, Son, and we will return it to this spot before we return to the School.” Harry was satisfied with this answer and stepped back to stand next to his brother, who gave his shoulder a squeeze, before putting a companionable arm around his shoulders.

Draco realised what a special occasion this was for Harry, who’d never been allowed to participate in the Christmas celebrations where he used to live. And then to find his mother’s tree? If Draco had been an emotional sort, he would have had to wipe away a few tears. As it was, he drew out his handkerchief and blew his nose. Really, the cold air was getting to him.

The boys watched as Severus used a spell to bundle the tree, then place an ornament on it. Harry was confused until he saw his father aim a spell at the small object and the tree vanished, leaving a large gaping hole in earth. Severus conjured a tarp and laid this over the hole, weighting down the edges with large boulders.

“There, that will keep the elements and larger animals out of the hole until we return the tree. Shall we head back?”

The trio of wizards retraced their pathway back to the manor where Runeskin greeted them with large mugs of hot, minty chocolate and plates of holiday biscuits. The house-elf had already brought up several boxes of holiday decorations, and the rest of the afternoon and evening were spent going through the various oddments and decorating the large parlour that they were going to use for their holiday festivities.

Harry had never strung popcorn and berries, or been allowed to hang ornaments on the tree; and he had never, ever been allowed to place the star on the top! Severus encouraged all of these activities and even levitated Harry so he could use his wand to light the star. Then Severus nox-ed the lights, and with a murmured incantation, lit the everlasting candles on the tree, guaranteed to never burn down, or burn the tree. By this time the two boys were in their pyjamas, dressing gowns and slippers and were ensconced in front of the floo gazing up at the magnificent tree.

“It’s so beautiful, Dad,” Harry whispered, as he let his head rest on his brother’s shoulder.

“Indeed it is, son, indeed it is,” Severus agreed.

Harry and Draco had been stuck inside for the past week, as a horrendous blizzard had raged outside the manor; piling up snow nearly as tall as Harry, and keeping the owls away. Hedwig had managed to make it out before the storm had hit, but Harry had not seen her since, and he hoped she had gone somewhere safe to wait it out - like Hogwarts.

The little family had managed to keep themselves busy, decorating the parlour and their bedrooms with Christmas accessories that Harry had found one day when they had explored the upper rooms of the rambling abode. One room had been given over to holiday ornaments, for all sorts of holidays – Muggle and Wizarding. Harry was intrigued at some of the lesser holiday decorations; for instance, why did you have black and white chequered candles for an obscure holiday in May? He had just shaken his head and walked on to the largest pile, and he and his brother had floated the boxes down the stairs to the parlour they had appropriated for their Christmas celebration, and began sorting. Runeskin had managed to procure holiday greenery, and the mantles over the floos were all draped with evergreen garlands and red, puffy bows.

Candles shone under hurricane glass, and there was a candle in every window; to light Father Christmas’s way – Severus explained. Harry had never believed in Father Christmas, as much as he had wanted to when he was little. But his first Christmas with the Dursleys had killed that dream. Most children can’t remember their second and third Christmas celebrations – much less their first, but Harry couldn’t forget. He had been shoved in his cupboard while the rest of the family cooed over Dudley’s gifts, indulging the little tyke with everything that had been advertised for his age bracket on the telly. Harry had comforted himself by hugging his blanket to himself and wanting to remember what his parents looked like, crying when he realised he couldn’t.

So, when his dad had explained about the candles, Harry smiled politely but wasn’t too excited. He expected presents from his friends at school, the Weasley’s and his new family. Nothing more, and possibly less if the storm continued and the delivery owls could not make it through with their packages.

Severus noted his son’s resigned nature, and wasn’t entirely sure how to combat this turn of events. Harry seemed otherwise happy with the holiday so far; he and Draco had gotten their assignments done early, had obeyed the rules to a large extent, and then had played numerous board games to pass the time when they were not practicing their defence.

While it was true that the original Father Christmas was long gone - he had been older than Flamel when he had passed on - he had named a successor who, to this day, still visited many deserving Wizarding households, leaving the Muggle imitators to tend to the Muggles. Severus felt that if anyone deserved to have his faith restored in the magical Saint, it was Harry.

Christmas Eve, the storm had blessedly finally died down to leave the countryside shrouded in a thick blanket of white that seemed to cast a hush over the world. The boys had stared awestruck at the sight from the conservatory where the demarcation line stood taller than they were, against the glass windows.

The house-elves had outdone themselves with the food that day, serving three large meals that had all of Draco and Harry’s favourites amongst them. After dinner, Severus told them to get ready for bed, and then return to the parlour. While they were gone, he had opened the upper window to let the flock of owls in then had flooed the headmaster.

“Yes Severus, Richard has agreed to come by – he should be arriving at your place in the next half hour; don’t ask me how – he has his ways. Happy Christmas, my boy, and please, let the children know I wish them well.”

“Thank you, Albus, I will pass on your sentiments.” He pulled his head out of the fire just in time to see his sons troop into the room. Harry’s eyes brightened when he saw Hedwig on the back of the sofa, preening her feathers.

“Hey, girl!” he said as he hurried over to her, reaching out a finger to stroke her breast, which she affectionately nipped. Harry looked at all the owls perched around the room, realising that they all carried parcels. Draco had already begun to relieve them of their burdens and Harry and Severus went to help. One by one the owls left the house except Hedwig who stayed perched on the sofa and had fallen asleep. The boys placed the packages under the tree, barely containing their curiosity. Severus smirked to himself as he heard a loud knocking coming from the main doors. Runeskin had managed to clear off the area around the Great Doors in the afternoon in preparation for tonight’s guest.

“Dad, who would be knocking at this time of night?” Harry asked. “I thought you said no one could find us here.” He appeared wary, and was looking to Severus for reassurance.

“Let’s go see, shall we?” Severus led the cautious twelve-year olds to the vestibule where he nodded at the waiting Runeskin to open the door at the third set of summons. Harry and Draco peered around Severus, fingering their wands, as a very old man in an antique set of Bishop’s robes, complete with crosier and mitred hat, carrying a brown sack, entered the house. Outside, the boys caught a glimpse of a beautiful white stallion stamping his hoofs on the cleared off bricks. With each stamp of a hoof, they could hear a ringing sound, as if someone had struck a silver bell.

Severus walked forward, stretching out his hand to the Bishop as the young wizards relaxed their stance. “Your Excellency, welcome to our home this evening. I thank you for taking the time to visit with us,” the Potions master said graciously.

“Thank you, my son. Albus let me know that my services were needed this evening.” He angled his head to look beyond his host to the two boys standing gobsmacked in the centre of the hall. “Harry, Draco, it is good to see you both healthy and hearty. Are you excited for tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, yes, sir!” Draco gushed and Harry looked askance at his brother. Draco never acted this way around adults – except for Severus. Harry couldn’t figure the other boy out – he was acting like he was seven! Bishop Richard walked slowly toward the children.

“And you, Harry, are you excited?” he asked Harry a second time.

Harry bit his lip as he eyed the man. He looked friendly enough, Severus seemed to trust him, and his brother was over the moon with excitement; but Harry wasn’t quite sure what was going on and he took a step back. Richard halted his progress.

“Ah, I see, still wary of strangers. Very good, my son; do you know who I am, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. He knew very well whom the man was supposed to represent, but he didn’t personally know this man, so he had answered in the negative.

“I was told that you have never believed in Father Christmas, Harry, and I’m here to prove to you that I really do exist,” he gently explained.

Harry looked confused, then angry at the thought that his family considered him that gullible. “Sir, how can that be? You’re just a rented Father Christmas, right? Like the ones who came to my primary school when I was little? Your fancy dress is better than theirs, but if you were really Father Christmas, you would have come to me a long time ago,” he accused, but a slight doubt niggled at the back of his mind: if this was a fake, why had he come on a horse that had silver-shod hooves?

“But I am the real Father Christmas – or rather his successor. Bishop Nicolas passed on several centuries ago and passed the onus of his passion on to me. I am Bishop Richard, a wizard and the second Father Christmas. I am sorry about never having visited you before, son, but I can only visit wizarding households. That is the extent of my magic, and I must be invited.”

“Oh,” Harry said, realising that his relatives would never have qualified, and even if they had, they would never have invited Bishop Richard into their normal home.

“Now, shall we retire to your parlour and see what I have for you in my bag?” He smiled at Harry, and Harry felt as if someone had given him a huge cup of hot chocolate - the smile was so warm and inviting. Harry nodded and led the group down the hall to the parlour.

Richard took a seat on a straight-backed chair, his crook standing freely next to it. He pulled the bag forward and unwound the simple hempen rope that had kept the wide opening closed. The two boys sat on the floor at his feet, perched on soft pillows. Hedwig had awoken when they had come in, taken one look at the kindly old man and, when he had stood up his crosier, had flown to it and grabbed it with her talons, settling her wings down and resuming her nap. Everyone had chuckled at her as a younger elf had brought in refreshments for everyone, including a huge plate of decorated Christmas cut-out biscuits.

“Now, Draco, I believe this is for you,” said the current Father Christmas. He pulled out a small box wrapped in shiny paper with a green ribbon and bow. Draco took it with a polite “Thank you,” and quickly untied the bow. Inside, buried beneath a layer of tissue paper, was a medallion. On one side was inscribed a complicated labyrinth and on the other was a Chinese Dragon, that chased it’s own tail as it wound around the edge of the medallion surrounding a centre cabochon ruby. The piece was strung on strong chain that Draco used to lift it out of the box. Harry could feel the slumbering power of the magic in the amulet from where he sat.

“It’s beautiful, sir,” Draco murmured as he gazed at his present.

Severus quirked an eyebrow at the Bishop in a questioning gesture. Richard indulged him by speaking to Draco.

“That amulet, Draco, is a powerful warding charm. I would advise you wear it at all times. It protects from harmful influences and attacks. The labyrinth on the back is a focus tool to help you meditate. The catch that the amulet is hanging from is also a stylus and can be used to help you trace your path through the maze from the outer edge to the centre.” Draco looked closer at the top of the medallion and discovered the mechanism that released the stylus. It was quite clever and could not come loose on its own – it needed to be physically manipulated. When he had lifted the stylus up, he discovered it was made of ebony and fit into the grooves of the maze perfectly. “Brilliant,” he said as he began to trace the path, but Severus reached out a hand and laid it on top of his godson’s, stilling the movement.

“Later, Dragon. Put it away for now,” he gently chided. Draco reluctantly nodded his head, put the medallion back together and hung the chain around his neck. A warmth, not unlike having his Godfather hug him, suffused his body as he could feel the magic of the amulet key into his own power.

Bishop Richard reached into his bag again and pulled out another box, this one with holes on the top of it, and handed it to Harry. “I think you will find this gift to be a practical one, but with a hidden… sting… to it.” Harry cocked his head sideways as he considered the man’s statement and gingerly opened the lid. Inside, on a nest of fragrant shavings, was a small patterned snake, much like the cobra from earlier in the month, only in miniature. She had been sleeping, but as the soft candlelight hit her, she woke up. She hissed at the sight of Harry, but he hissed back reassuringly and she flowed out of the box, coiling her small body around his wrist.

“She says her name is Silicia,” he announced to the stunned room. Richard smiled gently as he looked upon the happy child.

“She is related to the cobra you rescued, Harry.” Draco coloured a bright red at the reminder of his folly. “That cobra actually came from a zoo in India and she was able to go back last week. Silicia was from her hatching this past spring and her mother wanted you to have a snake that you could bond to, and who would guard you in your future journeys,” the Bishop explained. Harry looked up at him gratefully as he stroked a finger along the top of her head.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll take care of her.”

“I’m sure you will, my son. Now, what do you boys say to some treats?” He pulled a wand out of his sleeve and waved it at the tree, causing bags of goodies, candies and small toys to hang from the branches.

“Yes!” Draco exclaimed as he positioned himself underneath one side. “Harry, you have to go to the other side of the tree, hurry!” he insisted. Harry shrugged his shoulders, but scooted over to sit opposite of his god-brother. When Father Christmas was sure they were ready he sent a cutting charm around the tree and the conjured pair of scissors circled around, snipping each bag to fall at the boys’ feet. Harry caught on quickly and grabbed as many as he could within his reach, laughing with Draco as they repeatedly tried to grab the same bags. They both ended up with a reasonable pile each, and Severus vanished the little gifts to their rooms where they could indulge later.

The Bishop, meanwhile, had finished his chocolate and biscuits and finally rose up from his chair, taking possession of his crosier, after gently moving Hedwig to Harry’s arm. “Severus, thank you for your hospitality, but I must take my leave. I have several other houses to visit this evening. I enjoyed meeting your family.”

Severus shook the proffered hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to visit, Bishop Richard. I know my sons are grateful as well.” Harry and Draco both hurried to reassure the kindly man of their appreciation and he allowed Severus to walk him back to the porch and his waiting steed. Harry and Draco watched as the stallion took off into the night, running faster than any horse they had ever seen, until he became a blur against the night. But Harry thought he could still hear the ringing of the hooves echoing back to him.

“Merlin!” Harry exclaimed as they closed the Great Doors, and headed back to the parlour to clean up.

“Close,” Severus deadpanned. “I believe Richard is related to both Merlin and Saint Nicolas.”

Harry’s eyes widened at that announcement, and it give him quite the food for thought as he collected Silicia and took her to his room. She told him she wanted to sleep near him so as to make the bond as strong as it could be.

**And you should carry me around as much as possible, as well,** she advised her new master.

Harry took her advice seriously, and she slept curled up next to him on his pillow as he dreamed of racing white horses with sterling silver hooves, candies that fell from trees, talking snakes, and kindly old men dressed as Bishops spreading their blessings all over the world. Harry had finally rediscovered part of the magic of Christmas.

****

The next morning, Harry found a sock, stuffed full of Christmas treats, hanging from the mantel in his sitting area. It seemed as if the treats were never-ending, but they did - eventually - stop pouring out. Silicia curled up in the pocket of his dressing gown as he headed down to the parlour, sucking on a red whip. Severus was already there, fully dressed in casual attire and reading the Prophet. Draco wasn’t far behind Harry, and his gift from Father Christmas was already hanging from his neck.

“Good Morning, Uncle Sev, Harry,” said the blond as he joined them on the sofa. “May we open presents, Uncle Sev?” he asked, excitedly.

Severus set aside the folded paper, and looked down at the child sitting next to him. “I suppose…” Any other snide remark he was going to make was lost as the two apprentices sprung from the sofa and landed in front of the pile of brightly wrapped gifts, on their knees. Severus just shook his head, but a grin did suffuse his features as he watched Harry and Draco squeal in glee at the gifts they had received from him, the teachers, and friends.

Harry had received an eagle-feather quill from Hermione, a book on Quidditch from Ron, and a huge care package from the Weasley’s, which included a hand-knitted sweater from Ron’s mum, tricks from the twins – which Severus almost confiscated, but instead told Harry not to bring them within twenty yards of his classroom, or they would be liberated from his possession – and baked goods from Ginny. Draco had given him a stack of new Journals, as the old one from Whitney was nearly full. These were leather bound blank books, with a self-inking quill for the writing. Inside the front flyleafs was the poem they had adopted as their own. Severus’ first gift to Harry had been a complete set of Dowripple’s Defence Manuals, the premier manual used by the Auror corp. Harry could have lost himself in those volumes for the rest of the day, they were so full of interesting theory and practical defence techniques.

Some Slytherins had sent some presents to Draco – although Severus had taken the precaution of making sure they were safe before placing them under the tree. He’d had to discretely banish three that had been hexed or cursed. But Draco hadn’t suffered in the present department and he seemed grateful for all that he found that Christmas morning.

Severus was quite pleased with the gifts the boys had gotten him of the cauldron stuffed with rare ingredients and manuals, and Draco seemed happy with Harry’s gift of a protection cloak for him. Harry had given Severus a huge hug when he had opened his additional gift of rare potions ingredients to supplement his school kit, as well as a small album of pictures of Severus with Lily. There weren’t many, but he had found a few, and had duplicated them for Harry to treasure.

Harry had run his hands reverently over the leather cover before opening it and slowly turned the pages, soaking in each picture. Draco had gone over to sit by Harry’s side, hugging him as they looked at the album together. Harry leaned a head on his brother’s shoulder and Severus noted that although the boys were quite opposite in looks, they did mesh well together.

Severus cleared his throat to get their attention. “Draco, you still have a gift to open from me. Actually, you could back-handedly call it a gift from Lucius.”

Draco looked very confused at this, as Severus handed him a scroll. “Harry and I have been trying to get the courts to declare Lucius an unfit father – and he rather pre-empted us by disowning you. So, my solicitor filed the adoption papers instead, and the court – based on the testimony we were going to use to gain custody – granted the petition late last night.” Severus looked gently into the eyes of his godson that were starting to fill with tears. “Welcome to the family, Draco – you are now and forever a Snape.” Both boys gasped in wonderment before Harry jumped up and began jigging around the room, whooping in pure happiness, while Severus found himself nearly buried under a blond twelve-year old who was laughing and crying at the same time while hugging his new father as hard as he could. Severus returned the hug, tenfold, patting his child on the back.

“I’m so grateful, Uncle… Dad!” Draco said when he had regained most of his composure and had settled down on the sofa, leaning up against Severus’ side. “I’m starting to finally feel safe,” he confided.

“I’m glad, Son. Now, let’s celebrate this fine Christmas with breakfast, shall we?” The boys agreed and they repaired to the dining room for a lavish breakfast that Runeskin, and his fellow house-elves, had cooked. Harry was happy to find out that his nutritive potion was also completed at this meal and he gladly returned the bottle to his father. After a year and a half, he was finally going to find out what pumpkin juice really tasted like!

He put some in a saucer for Silicia and she lapped up a little, declaring it was interesting – but she would rather have some meat. He handed her some diced up sausage and she pronounced that barely passable, preferring fresh meat instead – but she thought she could learn to like this substitute. Harry chuckled and left her to her own devices as he finished his own heaping plate of food.

When they were all finished, the two brothers returned to the parlour but Severus headed to his lab – claiming he wanted to get some work done. Draco pulled a chess set over in front of the floo, and the two played by firelight all morning, Draco giving Harry a good thrashing on the playing board.

“You’re almost as good as Dad,” Harry pointed out as they put the charmed pieces away.

“Who do you think taught me?” he stated. “He began teaching me when I was three.”

Harry frowned at that and slouched over to sit under the tree, his new familiar winding herself around his wrist. Draco carefully sat next to him, placing a hand on Harry’s knee.

“What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know if it is something the matter, per se,” Harry slowly explained after a lengthy pause. “It’s just that I realized you’ve known Dad all your life… like – like a son should know his father, and that…” he shook his head; he couldn’t express in words his mixed-up feelings that had overwhelmed him a moment ago.

But Draco was much more observant than he let on to people and he saw what Harry couldn’t say. “You’re afraid that now that I’m his real son, too, that you’ll be supplanted in his heart? Harry, that’s daft! How can you think that? He loves us both. So what if I’ve known him longer, you two have a bond that I could never hope to attain – merely by being blood related. And I’m not jealous of that!” he put up a hand to forestall Harry’s protests. “You need that bond, Harry. Really, truly, it is just as special as the familiarity I have with him.”

“You think so? I don’t know… I’m happy to have you as a real brother, and a Snape; don’t get me wrong, but it changes the family dynamics.”

“In a good way, I think!” Draco snorted, a slight haughtiness returning to his features as Harry bumped his shoulder against him in reproof. Draco grinned and pushed back, only to topple his brother over. Draco was over him quick as a flash, tickling Harry’s ribs as his brother tried vainly to find a tickle spot on Draco.

“Hah!” Draco declared, “I have no tickle spots – I can turn it off!”

Harry gasped for breath as Draco finally let up, only to collapse back on the floor – his head cushioned by Harry’s stomach.

“Huh? No one can turn off a tickle response,” Harry stated firmly. “I mean… isn’t that some sort of automatic response, or something?”

“I can. I’ve been able to for quite some time,” Draco stated flatly

“Why?”

“Do you really want to know?” Draco asked, a clear warning in his voice that Harry may not like the answer.

“Yeah, I do,” came the reply.

Draco was quiet for a moment before answering. “Lucius used to use Rictumsempra as a punishment when I was younger, tickling until I lost control of myself; you know, my bladder… It was humiliating, to say the least. So, I learned to turn it off. Which was the whole point of it, anyways: learning how to control your body and its responses to stimuli.” He moved his head so he could look at Harry. “I told you, I’m as messed up in the head as you are – just differently.”

Harry rolled his head to gaze at his brother, reaching a hand out to grasp Draco’s in sympathy. “That’s horrible; taking something fun and turning it into a punishment…” he stopped himself though as an upraised eyebrow and a squeeze of the hand from Draco reminded Harry that Vernon had essentially done the same thing when Harry had only been nine.

“So, I bet you’re immune to the curse?” Harry finally asked, he was remembering the few times he had thrown it at the other boy in practice – only to have it quickly deflected, or appearing to have little affect at all.

“Pretty much. Even if it is thrown at me out of the blue, I can control my response rather quickly, thus overcoming it.”

“Don’t you have any place where you’re still ticklish?” Harry queried, frankly curious.

Draco hemmed and hawed for a moment before admitting, “Yeah, I do. But I’m not going to tell you.”

A challenging glint came to Harry’s eyes as he listened. “So, is that an offer to have me discover where your one tickle spot – that you can’t turn off – is?”

Draco just shrugged his shoulders, but still grinned down at his brother. “You’ll never find it,” he declared.

“Oh, I take that as a Dare. And what do I win if I discover this reluctant spot?” Harry teased.

“More than you bargained for…” warned the blond. He gave his brother’s hand one more slight squeeze, then got up and left the room.

Harry had gotten up early; it was two days before the New Year, which meant only four days until they had to return to Hogwarts for the new term. He really did not want to return to school; the last two weeks had been idyllic, just being with his family – not having to worry about attacks in the hallway from Slytherins and their supporters, or from a basilisk set on trying to escape. He’d had a wonderful Christmas, received some cool presents, enjoyed games with his brother and father… His dad had even joined them in searching all over the manor saying he’d never really had the time before.

Runeskin had joined them on several of these jaunts, as he knew all the secrets of the house and its previous occupants. His clan had been serving the Prince family for generations and he had all sorts of stories to tell concerning the Snapes’ ancestors. As they explored all the different rooms, the house-elf would regale them with tales about the people who had lived in them: some funny, some tragic – but all of them interesting.

He wandered down the hallways, ignoring the mutterings of his Prince relatives as they slowly woke up. He loved the manor; loved the endless hallways, rooms with all sorts of hidden treasures in them. He especially loved the conservatory with its myriad of different plants that almost turned the glass room into a mini- rain forest, and the library with all its different books. He could lose himself in there for hours if his dad and brother would let him. But the room he truly enjoyed was the one he was heading to now: the exercise room in the cellar. His dad had not been exaggerating when he’d stated it was set up just like the one near his rooms at school; if truth were told, he was underrating the facilities. The room was better than its counterpart at the Scottish castle, and Harry enjoyed working out in the early morning hours, alone.

He grabbed a towel off a stack near the door, slinging it around his neck before entering the well-equipped room. He opened the door and was startled to see a house-elf going through katas on the floor mat. He stopped and watched the little creature move through the forms with such fluidity, he knew he was watching a master at work.

The elf was stripped to the waist, and wore breeches that seemed Indian in nature, loose fitting and gathered at the waist under a black cloth belt that was tied in a peculiar manner. The breeches left his shins bare, and he wore no shoes. Almost every inch of skin that was exposed - except for feet, hands and face – was covered in tattooed runes that seemed to move of their own accord: forming, breaking apart and reforming as the elf flowed from one position to another. It was likely watching a three dimensional piece of moving artwork, the way the runes moved complimenting the elf’s movements. Harry instinctively knew this had to be Runeskin, Severus’ chief elf – although he had never seen the tattoos before.

He waited and watched until Runeskin was finished, bowing in the direction of the rising sun then offered the elf his towel. The house-elf inclined his head in thanks as he accepted the flannel and mopped his face and body dry.

“What was that?” Harry asked.

“A form of martial arts, Master Harry. It aids me in keeping me limber, and is a form of meditation. I do it every morning – usually outside – to greet the sun,” he explained before tossing the towel into a laundry bin.

Harry nodded; he understood - having studied with Severus the last few months, and from catching glimpses of martial arts movies that were Dudley’s favourite genre. “Are house-elves allowed to fight?”

“My clan is a warrior clan, and we have always served and protected the Prince family. In centuries past, that included knowing defensive and offensive tactics. These have been passed down from generation to generation, as well as augmented by various other cultures.”

“And the tattoos?” Harry ventured.

“I am the chief of my clan, these denote the wishes and blessings of my clan. They move and change as the blessings and wishes change. I can also hide them when I need to,” he further elaborated.

“Do they carry power as well?” Harry shrewdly guessed.

Runeskin nodded sagely. “Very good, young Master, they do indeed carry power, and concentrate it. It helps me help my clan,” he explained.

“Would those work for me?” Harry asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so, Master Harry. It is very much a house-elf magic.”

Disappointed, but not too surprised, Harry sat down on the mats in order to place himself more at the elf’s height. “Runeskin, I’ve heard other elves speak – like Dobby, and some others at the castle – you don’t talk like they do… Why?” He didn’t want to sound rude, asking the question, but he was curious – the elf spoke nearly as well as his father! He watched as Runeskin sat down across from him, looking him keenly in the eye.

“House-elves are quite intelligent and powerful, Master Harry, but they have been serving wizards for nearly a thousand years. Many clans have given up using the intellect they are born with, and let themselves become complacent and servile in their manners. My clan still holds with the old ways and impress upon our young the need to always be learning and expanding their minds. We work alongside the wizards we guard, not below them. We work as a team,” he explained.

Harry was quiet for a moment as he thought about what the clan-chief had told him then asked a different question. “Can I learn those movements you were doing? I think they will help me train my body.”

“Very good, son, that is precisely why I had Runeskin meet you down here today.” Severus smirked as he watched his son jump out of his skin at the sound of his voice.

“Dad, do you have to insist on doing that to me?” Harry whinged, he absolutely hated it when Severus surprised him like that. He really needed to learn how to extend his senses so people could not sneak up on him. He made a mental note to check out the library on the subject later; he wanted to surprise his dad for once.

“Keeps you on your toes,” Severus replied, removing his own house jacket so that Harry could see his dad was dressed like he was, in a black sleeveless shirt, and loose black pants. “Now let’s learn these movements.”

The next hour was spent with Harry and Severus following Runeskin’s instructions and learning how to move with grace. By the end of the hour, Harry was exhausted, as if he had spent the time with one of his more vigorous morning workouts; but he and Severus could each do the moves fluidly without coaching by the elf, and he declared them ready to practice on their own. Harry could see how this would be a beneficial addition to his training program, aiding in his balance, fluidity and mental calmness, and he resolved to get his brother involved as well.

After saying farewell to the elf, explaining they would be ready for breakfast in an hour, Severus and Harry left the room and headed back up the cold stone steps that led from the depths of the deep cellar to the ground floor of the manor.

“Go take a shower, son, and make sure your brother is awake as well, if you would, please. We need to start putting the decorations away today and replant the tree.”

“I will, Dad,” Harry said as he climbed the stairs to the next floor and headed towards his room.

****

The day was filled with taking down the decorations, tidying up the parlour and their rooms, and taking the tree back to the forest to replant it. Severus estimated they would be able to use the tree for the next few years until it grew too tall for the room. Harry and Draco had brought their brooms along with them and, after the planting was over, raced back to the manor, giving Severus minor heart-attacks as they swooped around each other, chasing Harry’s practice Snitch.

Eventually, they were all back in the warm parlour, enjoying a late afternoon tea. Harry became pensive as he realized that in just a few short days, he’d be back at school – and they still didn’t know who had the diary, and what Draco was going to do for a house affiliation. He sighed as he turned a page in the novel he was reading. Draco nudged him.

“What?” Harry said irritably.

“What was that huge sigh for?” his brother asked.

“Oh, just worrying about next week, I guess. I mean… well, take you for instance,” he began, shutting his book on his finger to hold his spot. “What are you going to do about a house? Can you even go back to Slytherin?” he queried. “Would you even want to go back? Would it be safe?”

Before Draco could even open his mouth, Snape answered instead. “So many questions, son. Why think about this now?” Severus set down his book, settling back to give his whole attention to the topic at hand.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, turning his attention to his father. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, I guess. What is going to happen?”

“Well, this is as good a time as any, I suppose,” murmured Severus. “Albus and I have decided to have Draco live in my rooms for the time-being. It will be safer for him.” Harry nodded his understanding, and Draco just raised his eyebrow in surprise; this was the first he had heard of the plan.

“Am I allowed to attend classes?” he asked, a bit angry at them just up and deciding his life for him, forgetting that is what real parents do when faced with the safety of their children. Severus just raised his eyebrow at his son, reprimanding with a look, Draco’s tone of voice. The boy blushed in embarrassment, murmuring, ‘sorry’.

Severus nodded his acceptance of the apology then went on to answer the question. “Yes, you will attend classes as you always have. You have your medallion and Portkey to help keep you safe, if anything untoward should happen. If things get intolerable, we will move you over to Harry’s schedule – or the Ravenclaws, if that would suit you better,” their father suggested.

“Harry’s, I should think; we can keep each other safe,” commented the blond.

“Probably,” Severus agreed. He turned to face to Harry. “As much as you like staying with your friends, I’m going to insist you stay in my quarters as well.”

“But, Dad…”

Severus put up his hand to halt the whinging. “Only until the basilisk can be sealed up again,” he explained.

Harry agreed, grumpily. He was just starting to get along with Ron again, and now he was being hidden away… Just like the Dursleys. It was too close to the way they used to treat him, in his eyes. He couldn’t see that Severus was acting protectively rather than oppressively – to Harry, it felt the same.

“Alright, we will try this for awhile then,” Severus blithely continued. “Perhaps until the mystery of the diary is cleared up and we can neutralise the basilisk. I feel safer with you two nearby, at least until that is solved.” Severus could feel something wrong along his bond with Harry, but the boy was effectively shutting him out and he didn’t know what he had done wrong. He decided to wait and see if Harry would open up on his own.

Harry let Silicia slither between his fingers as he thought for a moment, enjoying the feel of his pet caressing his hand; he noticed Draco eyeing him warily.

“Draco, are you afraid of snakes?” he asked his brother in a burst of sudden insight.

“A little,” came the timid reply. “They really gross me out. And that one is a cobra – they’re poisonous!”

“You’re the one who wanted to hear me speak Parseltongue and summoned her mother all the way from India,” Harry chided. “Silicia would never hurt you, or dad, she considers you my nest-mate.”

“Summoning is not the same as playing with them.” Draco shuddered, and moved away from his brother, scooting to the far end of the chesterfield. Harry rolled his eyes and looked over at his dad, a sudden thought occurring to him.

“What if I tried to talk to Gertrude, Dad? I could…” but that was as far as he got with the suggestion before Severus exploded.

“Not on your life! You are to put that foolish Gryffindor suggestion right out of your mind, young man! Absolutely not! You are never to approach that serpent and try to talk to it!” he thundered, oblivious to Harry cringing on the couch. But Harry was secure enough in their relationship to bluster back, a little.

“I wouldn’t have to! I could talk to it through a wall – it could tell us who… oh…” He stopped as the realisation came to him.

“Precisely! Harry, it does not know who has it now, and I am hoping we will discover that information before they let her loose again,” he explained, a bit forcefully.

“I just want to help, Dad. Why have this ability if I can’t use it for good?” Harry almost pouted after the rebuke, this afternoon was not turning out well for him.

“Talking to your own snake is good, son. But attempting to talk to the basilisk is just foolhardy. Now, put Silicia away and go wash up for dinner, boys, I’ll meet you in the dining room.” As Harry slipped his cobra into a pocket of his cardigan and followed Draco to a nearby washroom, Severus summoned a glass with a double-shot of Firewhiskey and sipped at it to calm his nerves. How was he, the premier Slytherin, supposed to survive raising a Gryffindor son? The boy was going to give him grey hair before he hit forty! Talking to a basilisk, indeed! He finished his drink and banished the glass before heading to the dining room to join his sons.

****

Harry waited the next evening until he heard his dad close the door to his room. He waited another twenty minutes just to make absolutely sure the man would not be listening before slipping under his invisibility cloak and slowly opening his own door. He checked to make sure he wasn’t attracting any attention, nor had triggered any alarms, then moved quietly down the hall to the junction and from there made his way down the stairs.

He thought he must have held his breath the entire way because of the big one he took when he was finally safe behind the closed library doors. He stuffed his cloak under his pyjama top, and pulled out his wand, whispering, “Lumos!”

He wanted to find the book on extending his senses and he was sure there would be something in this library: it was a skill he knew his father possessed.

Luckily for Harry, the library was separated into subjects and the mind arts were on several accessible shelves. Harry pulled several likely looking candidates and piled them on a nearby table, lighting a small lamp while he was at it.

It took nearly two hours but he had found one book that had an extensive section on being able to train yourself to reach out with your magic and sense what was going on nearby. The instructions indicated that the stronger the wizard, the larger the sphere of influence. He placed that to the side. Another book had also caught his attention, one on Occlumency and Legilimency. He knew his father was a master of both practices, and that he was teaching Harry the beginnings of Occlumency with the exercises Harry did with the jungle in his mind. These were more advanced techniques, however, and Harry decided to borrow that one as well, setting it on top of the first book.

He quickly re-shelved the remaining stack, blew out the light, took out his cloak and, grabbing his books, headed back upstairs to his room. He had some reading to do.

****

Severus felt the tugging on the bond that meant Harry was upset over something. It was the last night before they left for Hogwarts and Harry had been acting moody ever since the night he had explained to both boys they would be staying in the dungeons. He set down his glass of wine, closed the book he was reading and followed the strand to the conservatory where he wound his way along the green shadowed pathways to the gazebo at the centre.

He found his son seated there, staring out at the moon-illuminated night, snowdrifts glimmering in the reflected light, while copses were thrown into stark blackness. Harry turned his head slightly to acknowledge his father’s presence behind him, but quickly turned his gaze outward again. Severus silently took the chair next to Harry and waited.

“I love it here,” his son eventually began. “I feel… connected here. To you, to the Prince family, to Draco; but I miss my friends, too.”

“I understand…” Severus began, but Harry was shaking his head and turning to face his father.

“I don’t think you do. I – I feel like I’m heading back to solitary confinement…”

“Harry! That’s not…” Severus protested. How could Harry think that?

Harry turned a pleading face up to his father, his distraught features silencing Severus. “Hear me out, Dad. Please,” he begged. “I’ve been agonising over this for days. When you said you wanted me to stay down in the dungeons, all I could think about was that it was just like the Dursleys… The minute I found a friend, they would be taken away and I would be locked up in my cupboard. I’ve just gotten Ron back, Dad; I don’t want to lose him again! I don’t want to lose any of them, and it just feels the same. I know it’s not right, or what you meant,” he murmured as Severus reached out a hand to lay it comfortingly on Harry’s shoulder. “But it is how I feel.”

“Harry, I just want to keep you safe; surely you understand that? And I think you will find that is much different than what your previous guardians intended. Merlin, Son, I wasn’t going to deprive you of your friends – you would be allowed to invite them down to our quarters; I just don’t want you wandering around.” Severus raised his hand to Harry’s cheek to give it a quick caress with the back of his fingers. “You’ll see your friends in class, and at meals – just like always – but at night you’ll be much safer in our quarters where I can ward it much more effectively than the dorms.”

Harry leaned into the caress and, at his father’s suggestion, moved to sit in the older man’s lap, hugging him tightly. Severus laid a kiss on top of his son’s head then rested his cheek against the black hair.

“You know,” he mused, “you’re going to get too big to do this pretty soon. You are small for your age now, but the nutritive potion is working and you are gaining back some of your height.” His son just sighed against his dad’s shoulder. “Feel better now?” Severus asked, although he knew that Harry did, from the calmness along their bond.

Harry nodded and made as if to get up, but Severus just said, “Stay, let’s enjoy this while we still can.” He turned the chair so they could look out on the grounds together, enjoying a small isolated instance of quietness.

****

Draco and Harry sat quietly at the Gryffindor table, talking in low voices as they waited for the carriages to arrive and disgorge the students in time for opening feast. While Draco did not sport any official badges still, except the school crest, they had decided that, for the duration, it would be safer to sit amongst his brother’s housemates.

Students began trickling in, and although several of the younger Gryffindors gave Draco sidelong looks, none of them outright attacked him. He began breathing easier, and Harry kept hold of his hand as his trembling slowed down. The Weasleys came in en masse, along with Hermione and Neville, and the six younger Gryffindors sat down around the two Snapes while Percy ignored them and headed to join his sixth-year mates.

Ron stared at Draco for a moment before addressing Harry. “What’s he doing here?” he asked in a hiss, wincing as Hermione and Ginny both slugged him in his shoulders. “What?” he protested, sending glares at both girls.

Harry waved Hermione quiet while he explained to the group. “Draco was adopted by dad at Christmas, Malfoy disowned him.” He waited for the stunned gasps from the group to die down. “And since the Slytherins kicked him out of the dorms before the end of term, he has no place to go.”

“Is he sleeping in our dorm?” Ron burst out, and Draco winced at the venom, but quickly recovered before stating in a snooty voice, “As if I would become a Gryffindor, Weasley! I’m still a Slytherin, just not staying with them – currently.”

Harry placed a calming hand on his brother’s arm. “No, Ron, but he may end up joining our schedule and, in the meantime, I am going to live in dad’s rooms with him and Draco. At least until the mystery of the Diary is solved,” he explained. Ginny paled at the reminder and Harry rushed to reassure her.

“Ginny, it wasn’t your fault – you had no way of knowing what that thing could do, alright?” She nodded and sucked in a huge gulp of air as George put a brotherly arm around her. Harry looked over to Hermione. “Did they explain what has been going on?” he asked his friend.

She nodded. “I even decided to take a stroll along the train to see if I saw anyone writing in a diary; Ginny joined me since she knew what it looked like. While a lot of girls were writing in diaries, none of them were the right one!” she whispered. Harry marvelled at her boldness and said so. “Oh, it was nothing,” she shrugged off. “We just acted like we were taking a constitutional, stopping and talking to people along the way. Nott was a right twit, but he was the only one who bothered us.” She smiled at the memory. “Ginny hexed him with a wonderful hex; what was it again, Ginny?” she asked the younger girl on the other side of Ron.

Ginny blushed at the praise and sat up a bit straighter. “The Bat-Bogey Hex. Bill taught it to me!”

“Absolutely brilliant!” Hermione gushed. “All these slimy bogeys came crawling out of his nose, and began flapping their wings. I laughed so hard – served the git right!”

Draco joined in the laughter of the little group, and Harry felt as if things were going to turn out all right.

At that moment the feast began and the food appeared on the table. The students began serving themselves and Harry felt Silicia slither down his arm and poked her head out from under his sleeve. Ron was the first to notice and nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

“Harry, you have a s-s-s-snake on your arm.” He pointed a finger at the animal, causing the rest of the table to stop and stare. Harry ignored them, petting his familiar.

“This is Silicia, she was a gift from her mother – the cobra from the duelling club? You remember her?” he looked up to find his dining companions leaning discretely away from him, paling. “She won’t hurt you unless you attack me. I’ll introduce you all later. I think she’s hungry though. Hermione, could you pass me that plate of chipolatas? She really likes those if I break them up into small enough chunks.” He hissed at his pretty little cobra and she slowly slid out and coiled next to his plate, waiting politely for her nest-mate to cut up her meat for her.

The students watched warily for a moment longer, and when it appeared as if she wasn’t going to attack anyone, they slowly began to ignore her.

“Is she coming to class with you?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded happily. “She’s magical, Ron. We’re bonding together and it works better if we’re together a lot. Dad’s going to explain it to the other professors, so they don’t freak out.”

Ron shuddered and Harry chuckled; apparently Ron and Draco had something in common – a revulsion to serpents. He contentedly finished his own dinner as he watched his little slithering companion finish hers.

“That’s it… yeah; bend your arms like you’re holding a giant ball, now twist to the left while raising your right leg… slowly… You can’t do this quickly, Draco, it has to be done slow and steady.” Harry reached out a hand to steady his brother as he wobbled on one leg, trying to find his centre of balance. Draco huffed in frustration, but he didn’t quit. It was hard, Harry had to admit; he and his dad had been practicing every morning for two weeks now, and they still fumbled sometimes, but Harry’s movements were much smoother now. He could actually feel his muscles starting to tighten and tone, each repetition getting easier.

Draco had insisted on joining them when he found out what they were doing before breakfast each morning. He had picked up the basic movements quickly and, even though he would grumble each morning, he had managed to join them every day for the last week. Now it was just a matter of finding his balance and perfecting the moves.

Harry was using this time in the morning to meditate and extend his senses, as the book suggested. It was the perfect combination; since the tai-chi-like exercises were a form of physical and mental meditation, Harry could submerge himself in the calming movements as he used his mind to extend his awareness of the world around him – feel the movements of his dad and brother next to him without ever looking at them, sensing where the furniture and other objects in the room were in relation to him. Lately he had taken to closing his eyes while he practiced, for stretches of time, forcing him to extend his senses in all directions to compensate for the loss of the visual. His current goal was to be able to do the entire exercise blind.

Already he was reaping the benefits – he had felt Draco falter, rather than actually seen him wobble. He had to be careful though; he didn’t want his father figuring out what he was doing too soon! He grinned inside at his own little personal victory; this was going to come in so handy as he furthered his martial arts studies with his dad. He let his mind roam along with his senses as he continued on in his routine.

He reflected on how, each morning, after they finished the movement sessions, Severus would work the boys out in a variety of exercises and practice sessions to continue honing their skills on different methods of offensive and defensive techniques. Draco was the better swordsman of the two boys, having studied the subject since he was old enough to hold a short epee; but Harry was better at the muggle defence and wizarding spells. Years of protecting himself from his cousin’s ‘Harry Hunting’ had made him quick on his feet and nimble in dodging blows. His innate sense of magic and sheer power made him one of the best defence students in the school, even at his young age. Of course the fact that he and Draco were probably the only students in school who were actually learning any defence technique that year could have had something to do with it.

Harry mentally rolled his eyes as he thought about the idiot they had as a DADA professor this year, and his body flowed into a praying mantis stance that he held for five seconds. Lockhart had continued his non-teaching lectures, which had the students falling asleep nearly as often as in Professor Binns’ classes. Even most of the girls had gotten tired of his narcissistic tendencies. Hermione was starting to get downright panicked at the thought of being behind next term because the professor hadn’t taught them one defensive move.

Harry had decided to use the DADA class for working on his Occlumency skills, strengthening his mind, building traps for stray Legilimens, hiding his most personal and painful memories deep in the recesses of his mind. He had brought them out only to discuss with Whitney, then had dropped them back into his deepest, blackest pools in his internal jungle.

Whitney had ended their sessions right after the New Year, reserving the right to occasionally visit to see how the boys were getting on. He had told them he was proud of them, glad to see them interacting as a family unit.

As they finished their movements for the morning and bowed towards the east, Harry reflected on how purely happy he was compared to this same time the previous year, and how much had changed and he counted himself one lucky boy.

Severus felt the contentment along the bond he shared with Harry, and glanced over to see his son smiling. He tucked the moment away as something special – Harry rarely smiled with such joy in his face, although it was coming more often these days.

“All right gentlemen, let’s work on shield charms this morning.” The groans he received at this announcement caused him to smirk evilly as he prepared to test his sons’ wand reflexes. “Ready? Impedimenta!”

****

Severus hurried up the stairs to the second floor where he had been summoned by Albus and Minerva. Another attack, merely a month into the new term. He was supposed to be refereeing the game this afternoon between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw; instead, he was heading up to investigate the latest onslaught by Gertrude. The basilisk was beginning to try his patience and he was almost tempted to let Harry talk to the beast. He squelched that thought as he ran along the corridor.

He was beginning to despair that they were ever going to find the new diary owner. As usual, he came upon the flood first before turning the corner to find Minerva levitating a pair of young girls – Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. Hermione was holding a mirror at an angle, which Albus was gently prying from her grasp. Lockhart was standing nearby, gaping with his mouth open like a fish. Severus dismissed him as utterly useless as he heard footsteps behind him. A gasp, then almost physical pain attacked him through his bond as Harry recognised who had been petrified. Severus turned and tried to hide the scene from his son’s eyes, but it was too late.

“Hermione! Ginny! No, oh no…” Harry began shaking in his Quidditch robes, his broom falling to the floor as he lost his grip. Severus gathered his son to his side, burying the boy’s face in his robes, Accio-ed the broom and led Harry around the corner where Dumbledore soon joined them.

“Foolish boy, why did you come up here?” Snape said gently, despite the words. “Deep breaths, Harry… that’s it. It will be alright, they’re just petrified… you know that,” Severus soothed. He looked up at the headmaster. “Did Myrtle see anything?” He grimaced as his superior shook his head.

“She said she was in the U-bend again when she heard the incanting. She couldn’t tell whether it was a young or an old voice. We now know, however, that the basilisk comes up somewhere near the central ring of sinks in the bathroom – but not who is doing it, and Myrtle is totally unreliable to keep an eye out,” the old man griped.

“We can at least close off the bathroom, seal the doors…” Severus suggested.

“Already done. I am hoping that this is the only entrance,” Albus qualified.

“Salazar indicated he had only created one entrance.”

“Good. I need to notify the Weasleys and send an owl to the Grangers notifying them of what has happened. Minerva will get the girls to the infirmary and let Miss Weasley’s brothers know of her… ah… malady.” His eyes twinkled for a second as he popped a hard candy in his mouth. But his seriousness returned. “Take Harry downstairs Severus… and don’t forget the staff meeting tonight.”

“Of course…” Severus murmured as he led Harry down to the dungeons and some calming draught.

****

The staff meeting that night was chaos, especially after Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy showed up. Someone had apparently gotten word out that the beast had struck again and Fudge was insisting that Hagrid be arrested, based on his previous involvement fifty years before.

Dumbledore and Snape had just managed to convince Fudge that Hagrid was innocent in both instances when Lucius Malfoy showed up with a letter of no-confidence from the school governors to Dumbledore.

Snape sneered at Malfoy as the school governor looked only too delighted to hand Dumbledore his walking papers. Hagrid had to be restrained and Trelawney was in her cups, wailing and bemoaning in her corner, McGonagall patting her on the shoulder, while Fudge blustered along about how the school couldn’t possibly get along without Albus at its helm.

Lucius came over to stand near Snape, ignoring the Minister, while Dumbledore insisted on reading over the document, half moon glasses perched on the end of his nose as he took his time.

“Severus, how nice to see you still doing so well. How is parenthood treating you?” Lucius asked in oily, sarcastic tones.

Severus had tried to ignore his former friend, but this was too much of a good goad, and he gave in to it, for the sheer amusement factor of being able to rub it in. “Quite well, actually. You really don’t know a good thing when you have it; do you, Lucius? My sons are my pride and joy – and I don’t have to beat them to get their loyalty and affection – unlike some people I know.” He let his eyes veer deliberately over to Malfoy, taking in the swelling of the other man’s nostrils and pursing of his lips, before he got his emotions swiftly under control. Snape let a small self-satisfied smirk rise to his lips.

“Besides, why should you care?” he continued after a moment. “You disinherited and disavowed Draco – you are not entitled to know a thing about his current accomplishments,” he whispered venomously. Actually he was quite proud of both his boys. They were adapting well to living all together again in the dungeons, settling into a school routine with Severus marking at night while the boys did their homework assignments. Afterwards, if there was time, they would play chess or read and then the boys would retire to their room to write in their journals, practice mind techniques and get ready for bed. Tonight had been a little different, with the girls being attacked. He had left both Draco and Harry in the infirmary where they had joined the Weasley clan in keeping watch over the lionesses.

Things seemed generally safer for both boys, too, if you discounted Gertrude; although, as they had predicted, Draco had ended up joining Harry’s schedule, which had – for the most part – stopped the Slytherin attacks. Academically, both of his sons were doing well – even better than the previous term, and infinitely better than their first-year marks. Yes, he had much to be proud about concerning his little family.

“Must you always pick up other peoples trash, Severus?” Lucius continued. “First, Little Orphan Harry, and now my leftovers? Well, I hope they bring you more satisfaction than I ever received! By the way, how do you like my little gift to the school? Albus seems incapable of handling its forays – the reason why the school governors have unanimously signed that little paper asking for his removal.” He smirked at Severus’ small frown.

“Hmmm, and I assumed it was because you probably coerced and bribed them into it, like you usually operate, Lucius,” Snape shot back, watching as the bolt slid home.

“How dare you imply…” Malfoy began to bluster, reaching for the head of his cane.

“Temper, temper!” Severus reprimanded. “Me, imply? Just trying to make conversation, Lucius. And don’t worry, we’ll neutralise your little… pet… soon.” Severus gave the older man one of his more vicious grins and Lucius wisely turned away, stepping towards Dumbledore who had finally rolled up the document.

“Everything in order, Dumbledore? Good, I shall escort you out of the castle then,” Malfoy offered, reaching out a hand – ostensibly to take a hold of the headmaster’s arm.

”No need, Lucius, I shall leave forthwith,” Dumbledore said, nimbly moving out of reach.

“But I insist, if only to make sure…”

“…I don’t fall down the stairs? Lucius, I would be more wary of you pushing me!” Dumbledore chided as the blond blushed in anger. “No, I shall leave peacefully right now. Come along Hagrid, walk me down to the gates, that’s a lad.” Albus linked arms with the half-giant and the two strolled out of the staff room towards the main doors.

0000

Tom,

The school is in chaos… I don’t know what to do… I don’t understand what is happening… The headmaster was removed this afternoon. I’m so confused.

Everything will be fine, my dear, you are doing so well with our little sessions.

You promise all will be well? I don’t remember where I was last Friday… I’m losing chunks of time, as if the fates have dropped a veil in front of my eyes.

Don’t worry, all will be revealed soon, and I will be there to comfort you in the flesh.

I can’t wait, Tom. You are the only one who understands me, who knows and sympathises with my burdens in this life.

Soon, my darling, soon… I must go now, in order to save my strength. We will speak again in a few days.

She closed the little brown leather book, placed a kiss on the cover and tucked it away in a pocket of her robes.

****

Draco slipped off his amulet as he waited for Harry to finish showering. He liked these few minutes alone in the morning to trace the pathway to the centre of the labyrinth, calming his mind for the day ahead. He sat Indian-style on his bed as he undid the catch, slid the stylus out of its hiding place and began to trace the pattern on the back of his medallion, relaxing his mind as he worked further towards the centre. There was only one way in and one way out, and it usually took him the same amount of time as his brother took in the ensuite.

Today the door opened just as he reached the end, letting out a cloud of steamy, clean smelling air as Harry strolled out, heading towards his wardrobe, still rubbing his long hair dry with a towel, while a second was wrapped around his hips.

“Your turn!” he carolled across the room. Draco dropped the amulet, still in pieces, on the edge of his bed as he did his characteristic bounce off the mattress – hurrying to the bathroom. Neither boy noticed the medallion pieces falling to the floor and rolling under the bed to lay hidden in a dark corner.

When Draco came out, ten minutes later, he dressed quickly and headed over to his bed for the protective necklace. Harry found him there, five minutes later, frantically searching all over the bed, tossing blankets and pillows all around.

“Draco, what…?” Harry asked as he peered around at the absolute destruction taking place on his brother’s side of the room.

“My medallion! I can’t find my medallion! It was right here; I swear it was! Harry, help me find it, please?” he begged.

“Draco, we don’t have time – we’ll be late to Herbology as it is. You can search for it tonight; we don’t have any classes with your housemates today, in any case. Come on, I’ve made you a breakfast sandwich – you can eat it on your way.”

“Damn, damn, damn…” Draco muttered under his breath. “Fine, I’ll be there in a moment. Help me straighten this mess, will you? Dad’ll have a Kneazle if he sees it.” Harry graciously came over and helped re-make the bed, then waited while Draco grabbed his book-bag and joined him at the door.

He handed the other boy the sandwich, wrapped in a serviette, which Draco initially sneered at – but he was hungry enough not to care. So, wrinkling his nose, he bit into it. The look on his face as the combined tastes wove together on his tongue caused Harry to burst out laughing as they walked across the grounds towards the greenhouses.

“Do you at least have your Portkey?” Harry asked as Draco lit into the meal with more gusto.

Draco got a panicked look on his face as he reached down and patted his trouser pocket, relaxing when he felt a reassuring lump in it. He nodded, not wanting to open his mouth while he chewed. Just because he was enjoying a plebeian meal, did not mean he had to act like one.

Harry sighed in relief and they ploughed on across the fields, joining their other classmates at the door to Greenhouse 2.

****

That afternoon, Harry, Draco and Ron were up in the infirmary visiting with Ron’s parents, who were taking turns with the Grangers watching over the girls. Not that there was much they could do, a petrified body did not function at all – it was in suspended animation; but it gave the parents a sense of helping, if only a little bit.

The girls had been petrified for over three months now, with no relief in sight – except for Professor Sprout’s Mandrakes, which were steadily growing under her watchful eye. Neville had taken to spending all his spare time in the greenhouses helping his favourite professor. Without Hermione in class, he was partnered with Harry and Draco in Potions – for his own safety and that of the classes; although his teacher acknowledged he had improved, and was learning quite a lot with the two potions geniuses helping him along; but he missed his bushy-haired partner.

Harry had brought along two nosegays of daffodils that he placed in vases on the girls’ nightstands. He had found them blooming by the lake that morning on his way back from Herbology. As they spoke quietly with Ron’s parents, Professor Trelawney came wafting into the infirmary and floated over to the little group.

“Sybil,” Molly acknowledged a bit curtly. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Molly and Sybil Trelawney had attended Hogwarts during the same time period in the sixties, and Molly tolerated the flighty woman to an extent; but thought her, and her subject, pure nonsense.

“Molly, how nice to see you! The stars are foretelling great things for your family, I read them just last night!” The professor ignored the disdainful sniff from the Weasley matriarch. “I needed some help moving some furniture and Minerva suggested that one of these gentlemen could assist me… how about you, my dear?” She turned towards Draco. “My wand-work is just not sufficient enough to accomplish the task, do you think you could help? It shouldn’t take too long…”

Draco looked at the others in the room, silently asking their opinion and when no one could offer any objections, he shrugged and agreed to accompany her. She was known to be totally harmless if a little bit daft.

“Thank you, my dear boy, I know you shall be ever so helpful, and you should be done in time for dinner. Perhaps I’ll give you a reading as a thank you…” she was heard saying as the two drifted out the infirmary doors.

Arthur got up an hour later and indicated that Ron and Harry should precede him, “I’ll escort you to dinner, boys – make sure you make it there in one piece. Come along, then.”

After seating themselves at the Gryffindor table Harry looked around for Draco, not seeing him anywhere. He nudged Ron. “Didn’t Professor Trelawney say he would be done in time for dinner?”

“Yeah, but maybe she wanted more things moved, or got caught up in his reading – she’s a weird one.” Harry agreed and just shrugged as he served himself from the platter of roast beef that had appeared. Perhaps Draco had already come and gone, he thought to himself. But his dad quickly dispelled that notion as he stopped by on his way down to the dungeons to supervise a detention.

“Harry, where is your brother?”

“Don’t know, Dad. Professor Trelawney asked him to help her, a couple of hours ago. Maybe her task took longer than necessary?”

“Perhaps,” Severus reluctantly agreed. “Keep an eye out for him, would you? I’ll see you later after I am finished with this detention for Mr Smythe-Whitley. The boy had to add lady-bug eyes instead of crushed dung beetle carapace to his skin-smoothing solution…”

Harry winced at the implications. “Let me guess, it blew up and caused volcanic acne eruptions?”

“Precisely – on half the class of third-years,” Severus informed him. “Now, finish your pudding, Son.” He gave Harry a small pat on his back, before squeezing his shoulder once and walking away.

Harry wasn’t going to ignore an order like that! He grinned at the retreating figure of his imposing father before reaching for a second serving of treacle tart.

He was annoyed when he got to their quarters and discovered that Draco was not there. He had felt sure he would have found the other boy eating dinner or at least working on his homework. It was getting close to the end of term and revision fever was taking over those whose marks were important to them. Harry and Draco both had set up schedules to follow until end-of-term exams in June, and they were supposed to go over their charms notes this evening.

Harry sighed as he dropped his book bag on the table and went to his room to fetch ink and a stack of parchment. Returning to the lounge, he pulled out his charms book and notes and started revising on his own, practicing wand movements on a stack of pillows.

He was just getting to the charm for changing a pillow’s colour patterns when the floo flared. He turned, half-expecting to see his errant brother, but instead he saw his head of house.

“Ah, Mr Potter-Snape, is your father around?”

“He’s in the classroom, ma’am, supervising a detention,” he informed her.

The older witch frowned at that news. “May I step through, Harry?”

“Of course!” he said, wondering what was going on that she would resort to calling him by his given name – she never did that, no matter what the provocation, unless it was followed by his surname. The fire flared higher and she stepped through, heading straight for the portrait across the room. Harry jumped up and followed her down the connecting hallway, staying several steps behind her. He was astonished when she didn’t rebuke him, just held the matching portrait-hole open for him when they reached the other side, and summoned Severus from his office door.

The Potions master joined her in his office. “What’s the matter, Minerva, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he commented and now that Harry looked, he realised that she did look a bit dishevelled – hair coming loose from her normally tight bun, face bleached of colour…

“There has been another attack, Severus; and this time they’ve taken the student into the chamber itself.”

“Who?” he enquired darkly.

“Draco and Sybil are both missing. I’m sorry, Severus, the message read that their bones would lie in the Chamber forever.” She looked kindly over her glasses at the younger wizard, who looked pole-axed.

“No…” The choked cry startled Snape out of the shock the dire news had placed him in. The bond pulsed with agony as Harry nearly collapsed behind the witch.

“Harry!” he cried, rushing over to his son who grasped his robes, hauling himself back up.

“Dad, you can’t let him die – I have to talk to her, convince her not to kill him…”

Severus gave in. It had been on his mind for weeks now when no progress had been made; it just needed that last little push to convince him. “Alright, Harry, we’ll both go. Minerva, if you would dismiss Mr Smythe-Whitley?”

She nodded, and headed for the classroom while Severus and Harry headed out of the dungeons and up to the second-floor girls bathroom.

Fawkes flew ahead of the little group, leading the way out of Slytherin’s chamber and down the tunnel to the cave in. The boys had talked quietly during the trip back, Harry explaining how they had found the entrance to the chamber, and how Fawkes had saved him. As they reached the pile of rocks, Harry could see that Severus had cleared away a much larger hole for them to climb through and he followed the Phoenix, standing on the other side to help Professor Trelawney down to his dad as she made her way slowly through the opening.

Draco followed afterwards and he and Harry soon found themselves encased in a tight hug from their father. They didn’t protest at all, squeezing the man back in shared relief that everyone was safe again.

Severus had been worried sick when he'd been cut off from Harry with the collapse of the tunnel. Sending him off to retrieve Draco was one of the hardest decisions he'd ever made, but he knew that if anyone could possibly survive what was in the chamber - it was Harry with his Parseltongue capabilities. He had spent the time like a madman, though, moving enough rock to let everyone back through. He had just finished getting the hole wide enough, shoring up the edges with spells, when he had heard the boys coming down the passage.

His heart had gone through several flips when he'd seen Harry climb through the hole, soaking wet, covered in green ichor, carrying a fancy sabre - also dripping in goo - and helping Sybil through the opening and down to Severus' waiting hands. She had looked more dazed than ever, as he had guided her to a rock near Lockhart to have a seat. Turning back, he had gathered both boys into his arms, not wanting to ever let them go again. When he finally did acquiesce to releasing his hold on them, Harry looked at the chamber they were in.

“How are we going to get out? And what about him?” he asked as he pointed over to Lockhart who was looking as if he hadn’t a clue in the world. Severus was unsure and was about to send his Patronus to McGonagall when Fawkes flew over to land on Harry’s shoulder. He absently stroked the warm bird and gasped as he remembered something that Dumbledore had told him back last summer. The Phoenix crooned at him as if he knew what Harry was thinking.

“Do you think you can do it, Fawkes?” he murmured to the bird. The Phoenix nodded its head and turned around on Harry’s shoulder to force his tail feathers in Harry’s hand. “Dad, dad! Fawkes can take us up the shaft!”

“What? Of course! Everyone – head to the first chamber and we can ascend from there.” He helped Sybil stand up and the two of them led Lockhart out, the boys following.

The flight up the tunnel was just as awe-inspiring as the tumble down it had been. They had made a chain behind Harry, and when he had touched the tail feathers it was as if a feather-light charm had been placed on all of them. He could feel his father’s hands around his waist, but he felt no weight at all tugging at him as Fawkes flew upwards. Lockhart, who appeared to have obliviated himself of all his memories, remarked constantly on how this was all so brilliant, just like magic!

All too soon, they had landed on the wet floor of the bathroom and Myrtle was lamenting over the loss of someone to share her toilet with her. Lockhart had screamed – Harry felt, like a girl – when he had spotted the ghost hovering nearby, but Severus had hurried them all out the door and down to Minerva’s office, giving Lockhart a scathing look that had shut him up.

They were pleasantly surprised to see Dumbledore sitting behind the transfiguration professor’s desk while McGonagall was receiving a tray of tea things from a house-elf in the floo.

“Ah, Severus! You were successful, I see,” Dumbledore said, his eyes peering merrily over the edges of his glasses. Since Snape was not entirely pleased with the turn events had taken, forcing his sons into danger, he did not appreciate the all-knowing jocular attitude of his superior, and he made his displeasure known as he stood, arms crossed across his chest, fingers tapping against his elbow as he glared down at the old man.

“Albus. When did you get back?” Severus asked evenly while indicating with a wave of his fingers that the boys should take a seat on the camel-backed loveseat near the fire. They hurried to comply, Harry still holding on to the hat, book and sword as they warily watched the adults interact.

“Oh, about five minutes ago. Seems the governors changed their tune when young Draco and Sybil were taken down to the chamber. But I see you had it well in hand.” He ignored the snort that had forced its way through his Potions master’s teeth, as well as the rolling of his eyes, and turned his attention to the two other young teachers in the room. “Gilderoy, is there something wrong?” he enquired of the obviously daft professor. It took a few more tries on his part before Lockhart actually understood someone was speaking to him.

“Is that my name? I don’t remember… Who are you?" he asked, staring at the headmaster. "You look like Father Christmas. Is it Christmas? " He clapped his hands in obvious joy. "I want a red fire truck; please …” Losing interest quickly, he wandered off to look at some of Minerva’s knick-knacks she had scattered on her bookshelves. "These are pretty..." he murmured, picking up and examining a shiral stone that glinted in the light of the fireplace, tossing fractal light in all directions.

Severus coloured quickly, but cleared his throat before speaking up for the obviously confused man. “You’ll have to excuse Professor Lockhart, sir, he tried to Obliviate Harry and myself and we used a mirror charm to shield ourselves. It reflected back at twice the strength and ended up erasing all his memories.” He couldn’t help the little smirk that lifted up the corners of his mouth and he heard a muffled guffaw behind him as Draco tried to stifle a giggle.

Dumbledore turned a pitying look on the former teacher, tsking under his breath and mentioning something about being hoisted on his own petard. He had Minerva call for Poppy who promptly stepped through the fire and led the man away, patting him gently across the shoulders, with a pointed look at the rest of the adventurers. Severus assured her that he and the boys would be up to see her soon.

The headmaster turned towards Sybil who was wringing her hands worriedly near the floo.

“Sybil?” he asked gently. “Why don’t you come over here and sit down.” He led her to a comfortable armchair, that hadn’t been there a moment before, and she gratefully sank down in it, accepting a cup of tea from McGonagall.

“Can you tell me what you remember, Sybil?” the headmaster asked.

She kept her eyes down as she spoke, seemingly finding her cuppa very interesting. Her glasses were nearly opaque with the steam from unshed tears and hot tea. “I found the… the book in December. It was just lying on the floor in the bathroom. So innocent looking…” she sniffed. “I picked it up and pocketed it, forgetting all about it. Then a few days later, I started writing in it as I needed a new dream journal, and it seemed perfect. I was so surprised when it talked back to me and offered its own interpretations. It was as if it could see right into my soul…” Sounding quite awed, she took another sip of the tea before continuing on, oblivious to the rapture of the audience in front of her.

“After the students returned, I started having black-outs, times when I couldn’t remember anything. Other times, I felt as if I was under a spell – I could see myself doing things, things I didn’t want to do, but I couldn’t stop it from happening. I talked to Tom about this and he reassured me it was alright.” The three other teachers shared a knowing look between themselves. Yes, they were sure Tom had been understanding, suave, and sympathetic; his charisma was famous.

“What happened today?” Dumbledore prompted.

Instead of answering immediately, she finished off her tea before setting the saucer down on a little table nearby. She grabbed the edges of her shawls, pulling them close in around her, as if she was cold. She trembled slightly as she finally continued on. “I don’t remember much. I went to get Mr Snape, on Minerva's recommendation, to help me move some furniture in my office and I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up underground.” She turned distraught eyes on the headmaster, the tears finally trailing down her cheeks from behind her owlish glasses, and he patted her hands comfortingly where they lay in her lap before handing her a conjured handkerchief.

“It’s all over, Sybil. Tom was destroyed – he should never bother you again. Why don’t you go on up to your tower and have a lie in tomorrow. You’ve definitely earned it and Severus will send up a dreamless sleep draught for you to take. We'll have someone take your classes for you. That’s a dear,” he said comfortingly as he led the divination professor to the floo as she profusely thanked him. “Minerva, if you would make sure she makes it up to her rooms? Thank you.”

He turned back to the room in general after the two women had left in a puff of green fire from the fireplace, and was about to open his mouth when the door banged open and Lucius Malfoy waltzed in, Dobby in tow, whom he kicked to the side when the little man moved too slowly. Harry frowned from his seat on the small couch; no one should be treated that way, even if it was the most annoying House-elf in history. He glared up at the blond man standing in the centre of the room.

“You! What are you doing back here?” Malfoy exclaimed as he saw Dumbledore standing before him.

“The governors rescinded their order for my removal, Lucius, especially when they heard that a student had been taken. Odd, they seemed to indicate that you had forcibly gotten them to sign the original order. I wonder why they would think that, hmmm?” he said as he walked over to sit behind Minerva’s desk again, steepling his fingers as he gazed at the wizard in front of him.

“I have no idea what you are implying, Dumbledore. I have nothing but admiration for you and this school.” He sounded sincere, but Harry really doubted that he was; the answer seemed a little too pat, and he could hear his brother mumbling under his breath, "Yeah, right."

”Of course, Lucius, of course,” the headmaster temporized, shooting a glance in Draco's direction. The boy wisely held his tongue.

“Well?” the blond asked.

“Well, what, Mr Malfoy?” Dumbledore slowly turned his attention back to the school governor.

“Is the beast secured?” he forced out through his teeth. “I’m assuming since you are back, the problem has been taken care of?”

Dumbledore smiled benignly at the patrician. “Oh yes, Harry here soundly defeated him – with that sword.” He pointed to the sabre – still covered in green gore – that lay propped up against the couch where the boys sat. “Harry, why don’t you take a look at the blade of that sword while I talk to Mr Malfoy. You might find it interesting.”

Harry, keeping an ear on the conversation that resumed, picked up the sword and finally got a good look at it. Etched scrollwork decorated both sides of the blade along the flat, and right in the centre of it was a name. Draco gasped as he looked over his brother’s shoulder and read the inscription: Godric Gryffindor. The sword had belonged to one of the schools founders! Harry couldn't believe that he was holding, and had used, such a venerable piece of wizarding history.

Lucius sneered at the gaudy sword, and the boys who sat looking at it. “And did you find out who had released it in the first place?”

“Oh, yes – the same one as last time, I’m afraid: Tom Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort.” The headmaster took great satisfaction in seeing Malfoy senior flinch as the name was said. "I do remember you being present when we presented the original testimony last fall that had reversed the expulsion of Hagrid fifty years ago. I had said at the hearing that Voldemort had been the actual student who had opened the chamber and caused the death of Myrtle Morehead."

Taken aback, Malfoy tried to recover lost ground. “I see… and if The Da… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is defeated, how could he have released the beast?” scoffed the school governor, catching himself before he said The Dark Lord.

Ignoring the man’s near gaffe, the headmaster explained. “Why, through this diary, of course.” Dumbledore wandlessly summoned the book lying in Harry’s lap. “Seems it originally was given to a young first-year in Diagon Alley this past August when she and her family were accosted by you in Flourish and Blotts.” He ignored the rising colour in Lucius’ face. “She realised that something was wrong with the book and sought to get rid of it, only for it to be found by one of our impressionable young faculty members who needed a new journal. Really quite a tragic set of circumstances, don’t you agree?” Lucius mumbled a reply as Dumbledore walked over to where the boys sat, handing the diary back to Harry.

“It’s just a blank book now, Harry, but I thought you might want to keep it as a keepsake.” Harry nodded as he reluctantly accepted the item. He noticed Dobby cringing behind Lucius, staring at the little brown book and then pointedly looking up at his master, who was still arguing with Dumbledore. He looked over at his brother who was frankly staring amusedly at the house-elf’s antics. Then he remembered a conversation he’d had with Runeskin before leaving the manor at Christmastime.

“You wear clothes sometimes; why don’t other elves wear them?” Harry had asked.

“Clothes indicate that a house-elf is free, sir. Master Snape freed us many years ago when he took over the manor. We stay because we want to; we are loyal to Master Snape. Other elves are bonded to their masters, and those masters do not want to free them – so they make sure they never hand a piece of clothing to an elf, for that would free them from their bondage,” the elf explained.

“Any clothing will do?” Harry had asked.

“Even something as small as a handkerchief or sock,” affirmed the clan chief.

Harry had a brilliant idea and he hoped that it worked. He tugged off his sock and stuffed the diary in it, before standing up and heading towards Mr Malfoy.

“What is it, boy?” the man asked, sneering down at Harry. When Severus moved as if to intercede, Harry gave a small shake of his head.

“I wanted to give this back to you, sir, I really don’t want it.” He handed the sock-wrapped book to the imposing man. Lucius shook the book out of the sock, throwing the smelly garment to the floor in the general direction of his elf. Harry surreptitiously motioned with his hand that Dobby should pick it up. Meanwhile Lucius was staring at the diary, now covered with ink and holes.

“Why would I want this… thing?” he scorned.

“Well, I thought you would want it back since you obviously left it with Ginny Weasley’s books by mistake. Sorry, I seemed to have messed it up down in the chamber while saving Draco’s life, but I’m sure a good Reparo should fix things. I don’t know how to perform one yet, or I’d do it for you,” said Harry in his most polite tone while he saw Dobby reverently pick up the sock, knowledge blossoming in his wizened little face.

“Master has freed Dobby!” exclaimed the elf in amazement. Lucius whirled around to stare at his former servant.

“I did no such thing!” he cried, but then he saw the sock resting in Dobby’s hands and saw red, turning around to curse Harry with his suddenly drawn wand, only to find himself facing four wands aimed straight at his chest.

Dobby walked around to join the little group of wizards, throwing his hand up – palm outward – as well. “You shall not harm Harry Potter-Snape!” he cried.

“Yes, Lucius,” drawled Severus. “I would think twice about that manoeuvre if I were you. I believe you’ve caused enough trouble this year.” He lazily spun the tip of his wand in a little circle, but Malfoy knew not to mess with his former mate; Severus Snape was at his most dangerous when he made you think he was relaxed.

Lucius only took a split moment to decide on his course of action, sheathing his wand with a snap, and walking backwards towards the office door.

“Lucius,” Dumbledore called out. “If I find any of Lord Voldemort’s possessions on students again, I will know where they came from. I hope you get my meaning?” Lucius nodded and retreated out the door quickly.

Draco let out a huge sigh of relief; he had been concentrating on making himself unnoticeable to Lucius, not wanting to draw attention. Harry went over to Dobby patting the little elf on his back as it sobbed thanks into Harry’s sock.

"I'm your elf forever, Harry Potter-Snape. You can always call on Dobby if you's ever in trouble!"

"Thanks Dobby, I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, bemused at the elf's loyalty.

Soon, Albus had managed to get Dobby to head downstairs to the kitchens for the rest of the evening and had hustled the Snapes out the door and over to the infirmary.

It had taken a bit of fast talking on his part to get the boys out of the matron’s clutches, but Pomfrey knew that Severus was more than qualified to see to his sons’ medical well-being and recovery from magical core drainage – on Draco’s part – and basilisk venom poisoning – Harry’s particular main problem. She’d let them go after mending their scrapes and bruises with promises that he would contact her if they had any problems over the next few days.

A weary group of Snapes descended slowly to the dungeons, Draco snickering at the sight of Lockhart’s trunk that had popped open when it had landed at the bottom of the stairs, spilling wigs, broken frames of self-portraits and garish robes all over the dungeon floor. Deciding to delay the inquiry until the next day, Severus saw the boys to bed insisting they shower first, giving each of them a vial of Dreamless Sleep after flooing an identical bottle up to Trelawney’s lair. He checked in on them a little while later and found both boys clean and sound asleep.

Harry woke up in the wee morning hours to the soft sounds of his brother snoring in the other bed. The charmed window between their beds showed that dawn had yet to break over the Hogwarts’ grounds and he yawned, stretching his arms over his head before settling his pillow into a more comfortable position. He smiled fondly to himself in the darkened room, remembering how grateful he had been when Draco had awoken, relatively intact, down in the chamber. He had originally felt his heart grab in his chest when he'd seen the teacher and his brother lying there, as if they were dead. To see them waking up had been joyous and well worth the fight he’d gone through beforehand.

Then there had been the hug from his dad. Harry snuggled under his warm blankets, remembering that his dad’s embrace had been everything he’d always wanted from a parental figure; something that he never remembered having until last summer. That evidence that someone you looked up to cared for you, worried about your safety… loved you. It gave him as warm a feeling on the inside as his covers did on the outside, and they both came from the same source: his dad.

As he lay there, beginning to doze off again, he heard his brother starting to thrash and moan in his bed. Harry sighed to himself; it appeared the Dreamless Sleep was wearing off. He shrugged out from under his warm covers and, grabbing his blankets and pillow, snuck over to Draco’s bed, climbing in next to his brother and holding him close until he slipped back into a restful sleep. This was something they did for each other and it had become a regular occurrence; but it seemed to work and Harry did not begrudge his brother the needed comfort the other boy needed. By the time Draco had calmed down, Harry was asleep as well, curled up behind his brother, black and silver hair mixing on the pillows.

****

“It’s time, gentlemen,” Severus began the next morning after a quiet breakfast, “to discover why Draco was able to be attacked and dragged down to the chamber. Especially when he was supposed to have a protection charm and a Portkey on his person at all times!” Both of his sons winced visibly at his tone of voice, but he chose not to moderate it; he was still upset that they had come so close to dying. He scanned both boys as they sat side by side on the chesterfield whilst he stood next to the floo – a cup of strong tea wafting its steam up into his face as he sipped from it. “So, who is going to speak first?”

The boys each looked at the other, and Draco began to open his mouth, but then shut it in embarrassment. Harry gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his brother’s hand before telling the tale.

“Well, I don’t know what happened after Trelawney asked him to help her, but yesterday morning he couldn’t find his medallion after his shower and we were going to be late to Herbology, so we took off. I thought the risk was low, as he didn’t have any classes with the Slytherins. Besides, he assured me he had his Portkey – he even checked his pocket to be sure!” He felt his brother shift uncomfortably beside him and he glanced over at him. “You did have it, didn’t you?” Harry asked, eyebrows rising in a perfect imitation of his father. He had thought the batty professor had nullified the Portkey or something like that so that Draco had been unable to use it.

Draco coughed a little, attempting to clear his throat. “I thought I did, but I didn’t really check. I just patted the pocket I normally keep it in and, when I felt the right size lump in there, I assumed it was the Portkey,” he said sheepishly.

“It wasn’t?” Harry asked, astonished. Severus narrowed his eyes as well – he thought he’d taught the boys better habits than that, obviously the rules needed to be gone over, yet again, and he would have a talk with Filius about adding Accio earlier in the curriculum – it might have saved them all from this problem.

Draco shook his head, looking down at his shoe tips. “When I realised that Trelawney had gone all weird on me and was going to attack me, I reached into my pocket and found an old candy there. That was when I remembered I had picked up the wrong pair of trousers. Merlin, I’m sorry, Dad – I was just so rushed yesterday morning I totally forgot… Can you ever forgive me?” Draco looked scared, realising the danger he had been in without any recourse to save himself. He hadn’t even been able to use his wand – the professor had been too fast: possessed, as she had been, by the world’s greatest git.

Severus came over to sit on the low table in front of the boys, taking their hands in his. “There is nothing to forgive, Draco. I am just thankful that neither of you were killed by that monster. That being said, however, I believe your punishment for not making sure you actually had your Portkey will be a three foot essay on what else could have gone wrong, and why you should always carry your protection totems with you at all times. It will be due before the end of term and I want extensive examples given, with a complete bibliography. In addition, I believe you will be helping me clean out the store room, for the next few evenings, of out-of-date potions ingredients.”

Draco mumbled a ‘yes, sir’ before sitting back against the couch cushions. He knew he was getting off rather easy compared to what his father could have done to him for such a nearly fatal slip-up. His back end was feeling very thankful at being spared, and he wasn’t going to push it by objecting to his punishments.

Snape turned to his other son. “Now, Harry, you never told me last night: what did you see when you went into the chamber?”

“I saw Riddle, Dad, a younger version though. He was dressed in old school clothes. He was standing right there, gloating that he was sucking off the life force of Draco and the professor. And then he summoned the basilisk.” Harry was quiet for a moment as he thought back to the scene. “She was so big, Dad, and Riddle commanded her so easily. I tried to talk to her – I really did, but she wouldn’t listen to me.” He turned agonised eyes up to Severus. “Then Fawkes came and saved my life – he blinded the basilisk and then, after I’d been bitten by the snake, he healed my arm.” He pulled up his sleeve to show Severus and Draco the small scar left on his forearm; the only thing that remained to show where a poisonous basilisk fang had impaled his arm. Severus reached out a questing finger to stroke the newly pink skin in awe at what his son had gone through, before laying his palm flat over the mark. He closed his eyes for a moment as Harry continued explaining, willing his heart to slow its frantic beating at the news that, if it hadn’t been for the Phoenix, Harry would have died. “I just got this idea to take the tooth and stab it into the diary; so I did, and Riddle disappeared – screaming,” Harry finished.

Severus slowly pulled his hand back and looked Harry straight in his eyes. “I thought I told you not to do any Gryffindor heroics?” Severus said, half in jest and half quite seriously. He needed to curb his son’s reckless qualities if the boy was to live to reach his majority. Severus knew he had his work cut out for him. Although, he had to admit the circumstances had dictated most of what had happened; he didn’t think he could have done any better faced with the same situation. Harry looked up in astonishment, protest dying on his lips when he realised his father was joking with him.

“I’ll try not to - next time,” he jested back, laughter bubbling along their link.

“See that you do!” Severus said, raising a hand to tousle his son’s hair, before turning it into a slight cuff at the back of the head. Harry leaned into the caress for a moment before batting his dad’s hand away. “In any case, well done.” Severus saw the effect those words had on Harry, nearly lighting him up from inside; and the burst of warmth along the bond told him he’d said the right thing. “Now, as you are both fully recovered, I do believe you two have classes today.” Severus said while standing up. “And I seem to remember that my class is first, so go get ready!”

“Yes, sir!” both boys stated, as they headed down the hallway to their room to grab their book bags; glad to be back to normal. Harry stopped at Slytherin’s portrait first though, after his dad had closed it behind him on his way to his office.

“Salazar, I’m sorry about Gertrude. I tried to reason with her, but she was only obeying Riddle – I had to kill her,” he whispered to the painted founder.

“I know, I’m sorry to see her go as well, but she was dangerous and needed to be dealt with. I’m glad you were unharmed, fellow speaker, ” assured the painted Founder.

“Thanks, Salazar. Gotta go!” He waved at the portrait and continued on to his room where he made sure that, this time, his brother had his medallion and Portkey in place.

****

By lunchtime, the rumour had circulated that the beast in the chamber was dead and that the petrified students would soon be revived Sprout’s upper level classes had spent the morning harvesting the Mandrakes and Severus was going to use the next few days to prepare the draught. They also knew that something had happened to Lockhart as Dumbledore had posted a note on the defense door cancelling classes for the rest of the term.

“You know, Harry, Hermione is going to go spare when she realises she’s missed out on so much school,” commented Ron as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. He was especially eyeing the stack of roast beef sandwiches on a plate in the centre of the table. He quickly scooped three onto his plate before adding a large handful of crisps and pickles. Harry just shook his head at his friend while Draco frowned at the redhead’s manners, delicately adding a sandwich to his plate. He quickly removed the crusts and cut the sandwich into triangular quarters before serving himself some crisps and a single dill spear. Harry sat amused between the two polar opposites, not sure if he had an appetite now; but he eventually gave in and served himself, since he could feel his father’s concern for him through their bond.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll catch up over the summer,” Harry commented. “You know Hermione, she won’t want to be behind next term.” The two other boys nodded their agreement.

“We’ve got Charms this afternoon,” Harry went on over his brother’s groans. “Yeah, Draco, you missed our revising last night – so I hope you’re ready!”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” He set down his unfinished quarter of sandwich. “I’m not hungry anymore, I’m going to look over my notes.” He dragged his charms book out of his bag and pushed his plate out of the way as he began going over the list of incantations they were to be quizzed on that afternoon. Harry surreptitiously moved his brother’s plate back into view and sure enough, as he thought would happen, a hand snaked over to snag a crisp before it disappeared behind the large tome. Ron snickered through his full mouth, nearly spraying Harry with crumbs.

Harry gave Ron a disgusted look before he gazed up at the head table. He felt pride flow along the bond and saw his father nodding thanks to him for watching out for his brother’s well being. Well, of course he would! Wasn’t that what brothers were for, to watch out for each other? That’s what the Weasley’s did; Ron could complain all he wanted about having so many siblings, but when it came down to it, he would never deny them. They were too much a part of his makeup and what made him ‘Ron’. Harry and Draco did the same thing for each other, and they both enjoyed having an adult who was exclusively concerned with their well-being.

Harry grinned back at his dad, then tuned in to the conversation Ron was having with Dean and Seamus over the prospects of the professional Quidditch Season just starting up.

****

“Hermione!”

“Ginny!”

The welcoming yells ushered the students in as they filed into the Great Hall after being released from the Infirmary. With only a few weeks to go before finals, everyone was glad to see the students who had been petrified returned to health. The Gryffindors made room for their friends as they shuffled in and found seats. Collin Creevey was enveloped by his fellow first-years, Ginny pulled into an opening surrounded by her brothers where they could check her over, and Hermione sat next to Ron and across from the Snape brothers.

Draco had given her a nod of recognition, earning himself a small smile in return and Harry had come close to jumping over the table to give her a hug – but was pulled back into his seat by Draco’s hand grabbing the back of his robes. “Decorum, Harry!” came the whispered admonishment from the blond.

Harry grinned apologetically over at Hermione and gave her a verbally warm welcome back, then tossed one down to Ginny as well since she was nearby. Dumbledore had declared the Friday one of feasting in honour of the returning students and the house-elves had not disappointed: filling all the tables to the point of groaning with all the food and puddings.

Afterwards, Dumbledore had made a stunning announcement: he had cancelled all the finals as a school treat. Hermione nearly had a fit, and Ron had to clap a hand over her mouth before she had gotten a word out in protest while the rest of the room cheered.

“Hermione! You’ve been petrified for over three solid months; give it a rest!” he explained. She had crossed her arms and huffed under his hand, eyes flashing a warning at him and, when he was sure she wasn’t going to ruin everything, he relented and removed his hand.

“How am I supposed to know what my marks are?” she whispered vehemently to her friend. “I’ve lost half a year, Ron! That could be crucial! Oh, I’m going to have to study twice as hard this summer to make up for it…”

Draco looked over at the girl, astonished at her outburst. He nudged his brother, who had his mouth full of gooey treacle. “Is she serious?”

Harry got his mouth unstuck long enough to ask, “Who? Hermione?” At his brother’s nod, Harry laughed. “Very!”

Draco just shook his head in wonderment and returned to his own plate of after dinner treats. He and Harry were both near the top of their class – behind Hermione and a few Ravenclaws – but neither boy was as obsessive as their Gryffindor friend.

He and Harry had spent a couple of nights this past week going over class brochures that Severus had brought for them to peruse. They got to pick their classes for the next term and both boys had taken awhile to choose their electives. In the end, though, they had decided to both take Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Divination – despite their run-in with Professor Trelawney. It was either that or Muggle Studies and Harry felt that he, in no way, needed to study Muggles since he’d lived like one nearly his entire life, and Draco saw no use in it, whatsoever. He figured if he needed information like that he could just ask Harry or Hermione.

Ron had stuck with just two electives, wishing he could’ve dropped some of his regular classes – but no such luck. Hermione couldn’t decide and had finally signed up for everything.

“Hermione, how are you going to be able to go to all those classes? It’s impossible!” Ron protested one evening close to the end of term.

“Oh, I’ll find a way. I’ll be fine, you’ll see,” said the lioness as she packed up her book bag and headed out the portrait hole for the library. “Now, are you coming or not? You said you’d help me go over transfiguration tonight,” she reminded the redhead.

“Yeah, yeah, all right – I’m coming. I thought Harry was helping you to revise your missed lessons?” he grumbled as he grabbed his own satchel and followed her out the door.

“He is, but he’s busy tonight and I really need to study.”

“Keep your knickers on; I’m coming along, aren’t I?” he pointed out as he trudged beside her down the stairs. He was rewarded with a shy smile from the girl, which made him stand up a little taller and walk with a little more confidence.

****

Severus handed the small wrapped box over to Draco. “Happy birthday, Son.”

Draco folded his napkin and placed it beside his desert plate of cake and ice cream before accepting the gift. He smiled at his father before carefully untying the bow and setting the ribbon aside. Lifting the lid, he peered inside to see a small black kitten, with a white bib and stockings, curled up asleep.

Harry’s familiar, Silicia, poked her head out over his wrist to taste the air and memorize the scent of the new family member. Harry had strictly told her she wasn’t to bother the new pet. Her reply had been a cautious she wouldn’t if he wouldn’t.

Draco thanked his father profusely after gently setting the box down on the table next to his brother’s present of new Quidditch pads and Whitney’s gift to both boys of more journals.

“He’s beautiful, Dad!” said Draco as he peered into the box.

“What are you going to name him?” Harry asked.

Draco took a moment to look at his new treasure before deciding. “I think I’ll name him… Onyx.” The kitten chose that moment to open his striking blue eyes and yawned, his tiny pink tongue darting out before settling back down again. Draco fell in love, then and there, reaching in with a gentle finger to pet the soft fur on top of Onyx’s head.

Whitney had come by to join the little family and check up one last time on the boys to make sure they were ready for the end of term. He was gratified to see them behaving well with each other. The three disparate factors that had come together in these quarters last spring had, through the making of vows and hard work, become a strong family unit; able to support and love each other. He sat back in his chair, sipping on some fine brandy that Severus had served him, content that his job was done, and had been done well.

0000

With the end of term so close, the boys had stayed with their dad instead of heading back to their dorms. Now, on the final day, Harry and Draco were getting dressed in their good school robes getting ready to head to the leaving feast. Severus called out for them from the lounge area, and they hurried, both vying for mirror time to make sure their hair was combed and their ties were straight.

“Harry, Draco, hurry up!” came the second reminder for that evening. The mirror blackened itself so they could no longer primp, and the two shot it a disgusted glance before heading to the main sitting area.

“Finally! Does it really take that long for you two to change robes?”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Severus just stood there, arms crossed, as he gazed between the two contrite teens. He finally humphed behind closed lips and led the way out of their quarters as they joined the small groups of students heading for the Great Hall.

Harry and Draco joined the Gryffindor table, sitting next to the other second-years who were waiting a bit impatiently for the feast to start. Ron was rubbing his rumbling stomach, sending pained looks up to the high table when he wasn’t staring at the empty silver platters arranged along the long house tables.

“Merlin, I’m hungry!” he mumbled after another especially loud gurgle echoed, causing several people nearby to titter. Hermione gave him a look that clearly stated she was totally unsympathetic.

“Well, Ronald, it’s your own fault. If you had come in for lunch when it was served…” she began.

“Hermione, it was Quidditch! You don’t quit in the middle of a game of Quidditch for lunch! Tell her, Harry!” he pleaded with his best friend. Harry just shrugged when the girl aimed her laser eyes on his slight form. He wasn’t going to get into the middle of this argument – he was doomed whichever side he chose, so he chose the third option: stay quiet.

The tables hushed down as Dumbledore finally rose from his seat.

“As you can tell by our decorations this evening, Ravenclaw has taken the House Cup this year and Gryffindor has the Quidditch Cup. Well done!” He began clapping and the students politely followed.

“As you already know, Professor Lockhart regretfully had to leave our Hogwarts family before the end of term. I’m told that he is getting the finest care available for his… ah… memory issues. That regrettably leaves us without a defense instructor once again. Never fear, we shall have one in time for next term.

“I want to commend all of you this year for maintaining relatively cool heads as we faced many challenges this term and hope that next year will be relatively quieter! Now, as I can hear young Mr Weasley’s stomach from here, let’s eat!”

Ron had sent a wry glance towards the headmaster, but it soon turned to a relieved smile as the silver platters were filled to brimming with delicious food and he began to shovel quantities of it onto his plate.

As they students eventually wound their way down to the pudding course, Ron slapped his forehead. “Oy, I nearly forgot, you two; Mum has invited you over to visit this summer!” he said to the two Snapes.

“That’d be great, Ron!” enthused Harry. “We’ll have to check with dad, though.”

“I think Mum and Dad have already owled the Professor, or were going to… in any case; think he’d object?”

“We’ll let you know before you leave tomorrow,” Harry assured the other boy. He wondered why Draco was staying silent on the subject but he let his brother be for the moment.

As the Great Hall slowly emptied of students, the seventh-years hanging back for one last chance at inter-house socializing, Severus led his sons back down to their quarters. Harry brought up the subject of going to the Weasleys house for a visit over the summer and his dad had indicated that yes, he had received the missive, but had yet to decide on an answer and there was no guarantee that he would have one before the train left.

Harry was left the next day telling Ron that he would owl him as soon as he found out Severus’ answer. He and Draco stood at the station, next to their father, as they watched their friends board the train. Harry waved to his mates as the train pulled away, not noticing that Draco hadn’t joined in.

He did notice the other boy’s quietness as they meandered home along the sun-dappled lane that led from the village of Hogsmeade to the winged boar guardians of Hogwarts’ gates.

Severus hung back a bit as his sons led the way up the gravelled carriageway, making the detour to Hagrid’s cottage; they had been invited for tea after the train had departed.

“Draco, what’s up?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know, I guess… I just don’t feel… Alright, I’m jealous!” he finally burst out, taking his brother aback.

“Jealous? Whatever for?”

“If you must know, your friends.”

“But – their your friends too, Drake!”

But Draco was shaking his head. “No they aren’t. They tolerate me, the Slytherin among the lions. They tolerate me because they don’t want to insult you.”

“Huh, seems a bit stupid considering they were insulting me right and left during the fall. But, Draco, you have your own friends!”

“Do I? The people I thought were my friends have totally shunned me this last term; I don’t really know where I stand with them.”

“Well, they seemed a bit too sycophantic to really be friends,” Harry insisted. They headed down the steep hillside along the jagged path that led to the half-giant’s abode. “Come on, come with me to Ron’s. I know it won’t be what you’re used to, but it sounds really homey… You never know, you and Ron could end up being mates!” He was walking sideways next to his brother so he could watch the blond’s face and he gave Draco a teasing grin. While Ron and Draco had buried the hatchet after Christmas, they still weren’t the best of mates. They were polite to each other for Harry’s sake; that was the extent of it.

Draco couldn’t help it – he couldn’t stay upset with Harry when he looked like that: delicious mischief twinkling in his eyes. He rolled his own eyes in response to his brother’s quip. “In your dreams, Harry!” he shot back.

Harry just laughed as he skipped the rest of the way down the path; it was going to be a glorious summer!