July 9, 1996

The clearing came into his vision, as did the dark robed and masked figures that stood in a circle and awaited their leader. Severus Snape walked to his esteemed spot next to Lucius Malfoy who stood next to a shorter figure Severus had never once seen at a death eater meeting, though there was no doubt by the way he held himself—his actual height—and that he was standing next to Lucius Malfoy, that this boy was Draco Malfoy. Severus felt a sinking feeling. Was Draco attending to get the mark himself? He kept his face expressionless as always behind his mask, but the thought was driven out of his mind when Voldemort entered the clearing, his red eyes moving from each of his death eaters, eyes resting solely on each appreciatively.

“Everyone is here, I see,” Voldemort said.

Severus followed him with his eyes waiting for anything to give him even the slight clue, what he was planning; what he was feeling; his reason for the meeting—everything.

No one said anything to agree with him. He walked towards the middle of the circle and stood within it, looking around himself again.

“Severus,” Voldemort said, then, his voice almost a hiss.

Severus not surprised at being called forward first, quickly walked onward and bowed to Voldemort, his movements precise—planned—though they did not appear this way to the rest of them.

“My Lord,” Severus said, clearly, his voice void of any emotion but respect—hate interlaid within in it in the back of his mind.

“What news, then, from the order?” Voldemort asked casually as if the matter had ceased to be important. Severus knew better than to believe that.

“Dumbledore called a brief meeting yesterday to discuss the matter of the wards around Harry Potter’s home and the reason they may be failing. He did not seem sure, of course, that they will fail undoubtedly but they are getting weaker. As for the reasons, they weren’t fully given but Dumbledore clearly knows them. He, as far as I know, has not shared his concerns with anyone.”

Voldemort nodded slowly but even though he seemed completely and utterly calm, Severus continued on with caution as he waited for Voldemort to say something.

“Potter’s protection grows weaker,” Voldemort said, finally. “Was there anything else, Severus?”

“No, My Lord, nothing that is urgent or new. They are waiting for a move from you, My Lord.”

Voldemort nodded and dismissed him back to his spot a moment later, seemingly to contemplate something. Once Severus stood once more in his spot he wondered what Dumbledore had in mind telling him to share such open information with Voldemort, but he dare not pay attention to the rest of the meeting for mindless thoughts.

The meeting continued on. Severus watched as Voldemort called each and every one of his death eaters forward until only Lucius Malfoy remained uncalled.

“And now, my death eaters, the real reason for today’s meeting,” Voldemort said almost with glee. “One more shall be added to our ranks today.”

Disregarding proper decorum, most of the death eaters looked towards Draco, standing at his father’s side. Neither Malfoy seemed to notice this, but Lucius smirked when Voldemort chuckled, regaining all eyes to him.

“So, young Malfoy, shall we test this allegiance you have to me?” Voldemort asked, almost mocking.

Draco did nothing, Severus noted, but from shifted from foot to foot until his father pushed him forward, and almost stumbling, he knelt in front of Voldemort and kissed the hem of his robes. Severus could see the boy was scared, as much as he tried to hide it, but Voldemort seemed to want this from him.

“Stand up, Draco,” Voldemort said.

Draco shakily stood before him.

“Before you take the mark I want you to prove yourself, Draco,” Voldemort said almost gently, and then turning away from him, “Wormtail!”

Severus watched, disgusted as two muggles, both already beaten to a pulp were lead into the clearing, pulled and pushed until they were on their knees in front of Draco. Draco’s eyes were wide as he pulled back from them, though his eyes remained on them—transfixed.

“Kill them,” Voldemort hissed. “Kill the worthless meaningless muggles.”

With his neutral expression Severus took both of the muggles in. The youngest one was seven or eight. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and blood covered part of her face, and even more than that she was holding her arm in a strange angle—broken, he knew. Her companion was in a worse condition, his clothes were practically in shreds, his eyes weren’t streaming tears but crimson blood. Terrible gashes covered part of his face, and he was trembling. Severus recognized the after affect of the cruciatus. His eyes moved away from the victims and towards Draco.

Draco looked paler now than ever. His eyes remained trained on the two muggles in front of him, but he did nothing.

“Kill them, Draco,” Voldemort said.

Draco opened his mouth. “I—” He looked away finally, his eyes seeking his father.

Severus looked to Lucius as well and noticed the strange way he clenched his fists and held himself. Had it then not been Lucius’ idea to bring Draco to Voldemort? He glanced at Lucius from time to time, but his eyes were trained on Draco for the most part.

“Kill them,” Voldemort insisted, this time his voice had a dangerous hint to it.

Draco didn’t seem to realize this but he lifted his wand regardless, but the words didn’t want to come to him, he didn’t want to kill them.

“Kill them,” Voldemort repeated, almost giddy.

Severus followed Draco’s expression as he pointed his wand directly at the victims.

“Ava—” Draco began, shakily, but before he could continue Voldemort had placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

Severus looked to Lucius who looked calmer than before, now, but still tense and worried. Draco stood in front of Voldemort cringing at the hand on his shoulder. When it dropped, however, his facial expression did not change and then Voldemort was bringing out his wand and shooting the killing curse at the two muggles. Voldemort laughed, and then he was pulling Draco’s left arm toward him, pressing his wand hard against his pale white skin.

“Morsmorde,” Voldemort hissed, watching the dark mark appear on Draco’s skin.

Draco screamed in agony, his features twisted. Voldemort let go of his arm. Draco fell to the ground, clutching his burning arm. Voldemort was laughing.

“Collect your son, Lucius,” Voldemort said, then, and dismissed them.

Severus heard the sounds of disapparition around him, and noticed Voldemort too had left, before he approached the Malfoys, while reaching into his robes to pull out two potions.

“Here, take these,” He offered Draco.

Lucius was the one to take them, however, before uncorking each phial and putting them at Draco’s lips.

Draco gulped down each potion and felt immediately better though he said nothing.

“Thank you, Severus,” Lucius said. “We—we should get going, Draco, come here.”

Severus watched as father and son apparated together leaving him in the clearing alone. With a quick shake of his head he too turned on the spot and apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy was a death eater and he didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but it was news to the order that he needed to get to them at that very moment.

-

-

-

July 17, 1996

Harry Potter woke up to the sound of gentle knocking coming from the door to his bedroom. Confused yet curious, Harry opened the door to the hallway and found himself looking at a smiling Remus Lupin who stood next to an overly exuberant Nymphadora Tonks who styled electric blue colored hair and violet eyes. For a moment Harry found himself wondering how the Dursley’s had taken seeing her like this.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks said.

“Hi,” Harry returned. “What are you two doing here?”

Tonks ignored the question and instead stepped into the room, bringing out her wand. “I’ll start packing your things, then,” She said.

“We’re here to take you to headquarters. We just managed to get the place back to sorts; after Sirius”—he gave Harry a calculating look—“died we weren’t completely sure about how the house would be of use to us. He had been prepared for this—who isn’t at times of war—and he overrode the magic that would give all his belongings to his relatives to leave them to you. Everything was determined to be fine, Dumbledore added a few more spells and luckily we can still use the place.”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ever set foot in 12 Grimmauld Place ever again even though now he was pretty sure that he would have to. It was his house now, not Sirius’.

Tonks had managed to put nearly all of Harry’s things in his trunk and was finally just gathering a last few things when Remus spoke again.

“I’m proud of you, Harry,” He said, almost as if he didn’t want to bring the subject up but felt he had to. “I am very pleased at just how well you are coping with the events that took place in the Ministry. Sirius would also be very proud of you, you know.”

Harry could say nothing, but he didn’t think Remus expected him to say anything. He couldn’t tell Remus how much it had hurt, how he had practically locked himself in his room every day and even skipped meals, and that until a week ago he hadn’t even bothered to clean his room, not that it was a mess, but he could spot a number of things throughout the room that should have been put in the trash.

“Done,” Tonks announced.

Harry grinned as she levitated his trunk out the door and followed with Remus.

“Where are the Dursleys?”

“They left the house right after we arrived. I don’t think they liked my hair,” Tonks said.

Harry grinned, before asking his next question. “How are we getting there?”

“Portkey,” Remus answered, looking at his watch. “In fact, it should activate in two minutes.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of ribbon.

Tonks took one end of it while Remus held onto the other. She pulled the trunk towards her and laid a hand on it, while Harry reached to touch the remaining part of the ribbon. It didn’t take long for it to activate and then they were in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Only two other people were in the kitchen—Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. The former smiled with the ever-present twinkle in his eyes; Snape did the opposite—he scowled.

“No trouble, I take it?” Dumbledore asked.

“None,” Tonks said, taking a seat.

Snape sneered at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. Remus shook his head at them before he waved his wand at Harry’s trunk.

“Take a seat, Harry,” Dumbledore offered. “There is something we need to talk about.

Harry nodded and sat next to Tonks, directly across from Snape whom was now watching him impassively.

“The wards around number four Privet Drive have begun to become weaker ever since the events that took place in the department of mysteries,” Dumbledore said.

“But how, I thought as long as I believed that was my home it would continue working.”

No one said anything, and then it was Snape who spoke, even though it was clearly only directed at the headmaster. “What did Black do in order for Potter to receive this house? Could that have intervened?”

Dumbledore frowned. “I don’t quite believe that would have, but Sirius must have done something.”

“And quite like always the rest of us must clean up his messes,” Snape remarked.

Harry said nothing but he glared at his potions professor.

“Severus,” Albus said as if in warning, before he changed the subject. “We must once more bring up the subject of occlumency Harry. Have there been any dreams concerning him?”

“No. My scar throbs occasionally but that is to be expected, now, it comes with his moods. He felt particularly happy last Wednesday.”

They were all looking at him. Dumbledore was amused; Remus and Tonks looked worried; Snape at first seemed confused and surprised but then his face was a blank.

“When it starts to hurt I usually get some sort of feel at his emotions, sometimes everything is too much for him that I’m able to discern why he’s feeling. This time around he was just simply happy about something, but it wasn’t too strong.”

Dumbledore gave Harry a smile before standing. “Professor Snape will once more attempt to teach you occlumency this summer, Harry, you shall start tonight by learning to trust each other.”

Harry frowned. “But—” He began only to be cut off.

“Unlike you, Potter, the headmaster does have things to do other than hear your complaints,” Snape said only to receive an irritated glance from both Remus and Dumbledore.

“Severus,” Dumbledore once more said in warning.

The potions master nodded, but said nothing more. Harry had the impression of a sulking child and fought hard to not laugh at the thought that had crossed his mind. After saying good-bye to the headmaster and watching him floo back to Hogwarts, Harry turned to Remus and Tonks.

“I’ve got to go as well,” Tonks announced. “Kingsley most likely wants me back by now.” She smiled at Harry with a wink and also stepped into the fireplace.

“And I shall leave the two of you to bond, and put your trunk in your room, Harry.” With that said Remus walked out of the room, with the trunk floating behind him.

Harry didn’t know what to say, so instead of saying anything he remained silent, staring at the table. He nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and glared at Snape who merely gave him a look.

“Come along, Potter, we have much to do, and little time to accomplish it in,” Severus said in a low tone.

-

-

-

Two hours later found Harry sitting in the library of Sirius’s—his—house, sitting in a comfortable chair sipping his second glass of firewhiskey while his least favorite professor sat in the chair opposite his, nursing his own glass. They hadn’t really talked, but they hadn’t fought either, which was something.

“Potions, Potter,” announced Snape suddenly. “Is a precise art, much like occlumency, I fear, because of your deficiency at Potions that you may never understand occlumency properly.”

Harry shot him a glare. “If you were a better teacher I could probably get it right. All you did was yell at me, you know, you never told me what to do.”

Snape considered him. “Learn by experience,” Severus said. “It was how I was taught and it was how I attempted to teach you. I imagine, now, maybe I should have explained more about how to do it.”

Harry merely nodded and set his glass on a table next to him. “I didn’t try to learn,” He admitted. “I wanted to see what was behind that door.” He looked away from Snape and added, “If I hadn’t wanted to believe everything in those dreams Sirius would never have died. No one says it but I think we all know it, it was my fault he died.”

“Don’t be so arrogant to believe that the death of that mutt was anything less than of his own doing,” Severus said, almost with silent understanding.

Harry blinked at him but said nothing as he remembered what Hermione had said when he had said that to her in a letter. Her reply had been five pages long describing how Sirius’ death had not been his fault. But it hadn’t been her letter that had finally allowed him to get over it. Instead it had been when he had thought about Sirius’ character that his decision to stop sulking had become possible. Sirius would have wanted him to live instead of mourn him for the rest of his days.

“You are willing to learn, now, then?” Severus said, breaking into his thoughts.

“I guess,” Harry said, adding, after a moment, “If you’re a good teacher.”

Snape gave an almost imperceptive nod, and then he stood up. “It comes then to point out that we both shall need to work at this then, and it should best begin here.” With that said, he walked towards a shelf. “Occlumency,” He said a moment later, muffled almost. “Takes meticulous discipline. You must want it, and you must work hard at it.”

Harry said nothing, but stood up, left his glass on a table and walked into the rows of shelves. Snape was holding a number of books and still looking at more.

“Here,” Snape handed him half of the books he had taken. “It does not surprise me that there are so few books on the subject.”

“Few?” Harry asked.

Snape gave him a look and took two more books. “Back to our chairs now, I think.”

Harry set the books down on the floor next to his chair, and grabbed the first book. “You’re almost as bad as Hermione,” He muttered when he noticed Snape had already begun writing things down on a spare piece of parchment and yet he hadn’t even opened the book he had on his lap.

Snape glared at him. “Do not compare me to that bushy haired know-it-all.”

Harry laughed but said nothing while he looked at the contents of the book. “Does this have anything to do with occlumency?” He asked.

“It’s about memories, is it not?” Snape asked, glancing at the cover of the book Harry was holding.

“Yes, but that isn’t going to help me, is it?”

Snape glowered at him. “If it wasn’t going to help, I would not have you the book, just read it.”

Harry didn’t argue further as he began to read the first chapter which spoke about how certain memories when brought to the forth most part of your mind they could compromise any dire situation if they were emotionally painful. As Harry read he continued to make the certain connections that had obviously been reason enough for him to read this book. As he continued reading, he couldn’t help to look at Snape across from him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry heard himself say.

Snape looked up, giving him a piercing look.

“I shouldn’t have gone into your penseive, last year, I felt awful after that, but it opened my eyes to who my father was. I never told anyone, not my friends anyhow, just Sirius and Remus but I needed to know more about him. Sirius excused it as his age but that isn’t an excuse.”

Snape was watching him with a strange expression on his face and then he said in almost a whisper, “You’re not your father.” And then he was leaving the room, his robes billowing behind him.

Harry looked after him and laughed when a strange thought crossed his mind. How did Snape make his robes do that?

James Potter glared at the blank piece of parchment sitting in front of him. Only three words were written on the page, and they had yet to give him inspiration for the letter he was writing.

"Any luck with that, sweetheart?" Lily Potter asked, running one of her hands through his messy hair while her other arm supported their one year old son who looked exactly like his father.

"No," James groaned. "I just don’t know how to begin—what to explain."

Lily smiled sadly. "It’s a precaution, James," Lily said. "We can only hope that he won’t have to read this, that we’ll be there to explain everything to him."

James nodded slowly. "Has he been good this morning?"

Lily smiled at her son fondly. "When is this wonderful boy ever not good?" She asked.

"He takes after his father," James said.

Lily’s smile grew. "I’m so happy you can accept this so easily," She said.

James ran both his hands through his hair making the already messy hair messier, if that was possible. "How could I not, Lils, with this amazing boy for our son." James took Harry from his mother and set him down on his lap. Harry almost immediately reached for James’ glasses and took them off, waving them around before he threw them to the ground.

"What have we told you, Harry?" Lily asked as she retrieved the glasses. "No playing with your father’s glasses."

Harry chortled happily as if nothing had gone wrong and reached out for his mother. Lily’s kind green eyes looked at the parchment in front of James as she took Harry once more in her arms.

"Maybe telling him how much we love him," Lily said gently. "He’d want to know how much his father loved him if we were to die before he could understand our love for him."

"Always the smart one, Lily, it is why I married you," James told his wife and then he began writing once more, this time knowing just a little more of what he wanted to say.

-

-

-

"He just left as if the entire world made sense to him," Harry told Remus.

He had found the lycanthrope cleaning Sirius’ old room; mere moments after Snape had left.

"Ah, well," Remus said with a sigh. "I was going to have you help me with this stuff tomorrow before your lesson but we can very well start today. A lot of the stuff in here is from back before he even moved out of here to your father’s, he couldn’t very well take it all with him. He was surprised when he found most of it still here."

Harry nodded. He’d been in the room only a couple of times; both had been while Sirius was alive. He had believed that entering the house where Sirius had been practically imprisoned would be hard and hurt him, but it hadn’t been, instead, entering the house had almost given him more closure, but his room—even seeing it—drove a hole into his chest. He didn’t allow Remus to see this in his expression but continued into the room.

"Where are we putting all this stuff?" Harry asked, looking towards Remus.

"Up in the attic. I thought maybe you’d like to have his room," Remus said.

Harry shook his head. "I don’t think I could handle it, really, I rather stay in the room I shared with Ron."

Remus smiled gently. "Alright. I wasn’t sure, you know, if you wanted it or not. I was expecting something completely different from you. You’re even getting along with Severus."

Harry snorted. "No one but the headmaster could get along with him," He laughed. "But I did grow up this summer. After he died I spent a lot of my time alone brooding but then I realized he wouldn’t have wanted that, and then once deaths began to be reported on the Prophet I figured with a war going on out there that I could be next and if I was, I would have wasted a long time just away from my friends."

Remus was looking at him strangely and then he was hugging him, but before he could open his mouth to say anything a silky voice came from the doorway.

"Excuse me for interrupting such a sickeningly sweet moment, but I do believe we have work to do, Potter."

Harry flushed and couldn’t look at Remus as he walked to the potions professor.

"I really am proud of you," Harry heard Remus say before he followed Snape once more to the library.

-

-

-

Harry was nearly halfway through the book. Snape had finished two books and was starting on a third; he was also unusually quiet and kept giving Harry strange glances.

"What?" Harry asked when Snape had done this for the fifth time.

Snape considered him, opening his mouth to speak, but then he said nothing. Harry had found his both irritating and confusing.

They worked in silence until voices from the first floor drifted towards them.

"Is there an order meeting?" Harry asked.

"No, Potter, I do believe those are your friends," Snape said almost as if he hated the very idea of Harry’s friends being in the house. "No, matter, it is almost time for dinner, but I will like to impress upon you the importance of learning this. Has the book been helpful at all as to controlling your emotions? We will attempt something more practical tomorrow, I believe."

Harry nodded and after marking his page closed his book and stood up, he made to walk to the door but noticed the potions master remained seated with his book.

"Aren’t you going to eat, Professor?"

Snape shook his head. "Go greet your friends, Mr. Potter, I have no place with half the people that have arrived."

"Are you staying here, as in for the night?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Potter, it will make it that much easier to work with you that way. Now go before I decide you need to keep me company, terrible as your company may be, now go, you are welcome—in fact I encourage it—to read the book about memories and any other we pulled off the shelves."

Harry nodded slowly, but frowned as he was leaving the room. Severus Snape was something. He had always appeared to be an evil bastard—to put it plainly—but then there was another side to him. The sarcastic funny side that while still harsh at times was easier to understand and deal with, and yet he seemed to hate anything social. Harry found himself almost pitying him, but he couldn’t quite allow himself to, not when he knew Snape didn’t need anyone’s pity.

Harry’s thoughts went astray when Hermione shouted his name and then he was lying on his back and he heard Hermione groan an, "I’m sorry" while in the background Ron was laughing with Ginny.

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione said once she was standing and holding out a hand for him.

Harry took her hand and brushed himself off. "You’re not allowed to hug me, anymore," He told Hermione. "I fear you’ll kill me that way."

They all laughed.

"It’s just so good to see you, Harry, really," Hermione said. "So early in the summer too, what’s happened? We were all really surprised Dumbledore had sent Lupin to get you."

"Something about my mother’s protection no longer working. Snape said it may be about how Sirius got around the spells that would make this house Bellatrix’s in favor of it becoming mine as according to his will. It could have messed around with how I see the place, but I don’t see how, either way I had to come here. So, how about you three? Are you staying here for the rest of the summer?"

"Nah," Ron said. "Mom doesn’t want us to distract you, apparently you’ll be quite busy this summer. Anyway, we’re only here for dinner tonight, we’re staying until tomorrow night."

Ginny spoke next, coming to stand next to Harry. "Do you know what you’ll be working on?"

Harry considered telling them, but talking about occlumency would lead Hermione to bring up Sirius and the letter of earlier in the summer that he wished to put behind them. So instead of telling them he would be working on his occlumency with Snape he shook his head.

"You’ll find out soon enough," Hermione said. "But come on, we should go to the kitchen I promised to help Lupin."

Harry grinned. "You know how to cook?"

Hermione said nothing but lead the others to the kitchen.

Harry was appreciative of his friends, he really was, and truth be told he was glad for everything they had ever helped him with throughout his years at Hogwarts, but he was still trying to figure out if telling them about the prophecy would be a good idea. So far only he and Dumbledore knew about it unless the order had been informed and he doubted Dumbledore had told them.

-

-

-

"Is Severus coming down, Harry? Merlin knows when the man eats." Remus asked half an hour later, after the meal had been completed.

"No, I don’t think so, he was pretty engrossed in some book," Harry said. "I pointed out earlier that he was almost as bad as Hermione when it came to researching and he was completely offended," Harry replied in an undertone. "Oh, Remus, I don’t want to bring the subject of occlumency back up with them, could we not talk about it. It’s just—"

Remus lifted a hand. "Don’t worry about it, Harry."

Harry smiled and went to take his seat next to Ron. "Are we expecting anyone else?" He asked.

"Tonks and Kingsley said they might come by, but seeing as Kingsley took over for Scrimgeour as head of the Auror office in the department of MLE he’s been kept busy, not as busy as Scrimgeour—mind—he is trying to rectify Fudge’s mistakes and is doing as good as job as any, but they might not make it."

"MLE?" Hermione asked.

"Magical Law Enforcement," Ron told her.

Dinner was more fun than anything Harry had done since the beginning of the summer. Ron had told stories about Fred and George’s new products and the shop they had obtained in Diagon Alley, which he had yet to visit but knew would be great regardless. Ginny brought up quidditch which served for conversation for the better part of an hour, at least between the two Weasley siblings and occasionally Harry whom had also become interested in Hermione’s and Remus’ discussion on werewolf rights and how the narrow-mindedness of the ministry was giving Voldemort more and more allies this way.

"It’s preposterous!" Hermione exclaimed. "With the use of the wolfsbane, which the ministry could easily distribute to the werewolves on every full moon they wouldn’t have to worry about anything."

Remus chuckled. "Ah, but that is the thing, Hermione," Remus said. "Even if the ministry managed to have wolfsbane for every werewolf in Britain, not many would go for it. They’d be telling the ministry who they are and they would be the first blamed for any attack despite the wolfsbane. The thing is, the ministry is scared and werewolves are dark creatures for the most part, that many join Voldemort isn’t even questioned and now they have a leader."

"A leader?" Harry asked. "But I thought most of them just roamed free."

Hermione turned to him, "For the most part yes, sometimes werewolves mate with other werewolves but it isn’t very common, and then there are occasions where some live together because of what they are, but most like to live life as normal as possible."

Remus smiled at Hermione. "Hermione’s completely correct. As for their leader, Grayback is not a death eater but he’s good as. He works with Voldemort at least but werewolves, while they are promised freedom in this new world he is building, are not good enough to receive his mark."

-

-

-

"Love you, mum," Harry Potter whispered, wishing—not for the first time—that he could actually express the sentiment to his mom, than that of her picture, even though that was—he knew—an impossible feat considering that both his parents were dead. Harry closed the leather bound book—a gift from Hagrid at the end of his first year—and placed it on the table in front of him before glancing at the muggle digital clock he had found in Sirius’ room while cleaning, that would tell him in the matter of minutes that it was his sixteenth birthday.

He’d been a bit thoughtful lately concerning the whole birthday thing and everything that this particular birthday meant—that the last year was over and he could move on. He stared at the clock for longer than necessary and sighed at the slow movement of time.

It was strange, he realized, how slow two minutes seemed in comparison to two weeks, even with spending most of his time in the library with Snape whom he had come to trust more. It had begun on the first day they had begun using occlumency.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Harry asked.

Snape had taken a long look at him before answering, "As you read in the book I gave you last night, the best way is to have a meeting of our minds. So, what you will do first is remove any memories that you do not wish for me to witness."

Harry shook his head. They hadn’t brought the topic of the last time they had attempted occlumency up since Harry had apologized the first day, so Harry didn’t feel particularly good at bringing the subject up.

"What have you not seen in my mind? The last few months after we stopped the last time? There’s no point."

"There isn’t anything you rather not replay in your mind tonight?"

Harry’s first thought was the prophecy, and his eyes widened. Snape surely didn’t know about that. He nodded slowly, no other memory coming to mind.

"Just the one memory," Harry said.

Snape nodded, and pulled out his wand. "I’ll just put it in this phial for the time being. The way this works is that you won’t know what the memory is, but you’ll realize it’s missing, as if you forgot it. Just think about that memory now and nothing else."

Harry did as he was told and felt Snape press his wand against his temple and then the memory was pulled away and he found himself wondering what he had just been thinking about before coming to his senses and remembering that he had done this to protect his knowledge of the prophecy.

"Is there nothing else you do not wish me to see?"

Harry shook his head. He was sure Snape had already seen everything anyhow.

"Alright." Snape seemed almost nervous.

Harry looked up into Snape’s black eyes. "How—" Harry began but stopped when he felt Snape’s hands come to his face, touching the sides of his face gently.

"Relax," Snape said. "Just allow everything to flow through your mind normally. Allow yourself to calm down. Keep your eyes open. Don’t think just be."

It was his voice that finally made him relax, the silky, calm undertone that he had never heard in his potions class; the almost comforting tone of his voice that seemed nearly meant for him.

"Legilimens," Snape muttered.

Harry felt memories drift between them. Some were his; the others were Snape’s. He saw a pale scared woman standing in front of a sallow skinned, thin boy with overly large clothes, with a bloody nose. Then in a flash Harry was seeing a younger version of himself, five—maybe four—years old crying, crouched in his cupboard. Another number of memories flashed between them and then they were in the department of mysteries. Bella and Sirius were fighting and then Sirius was falling back.

"NO!"

Sirius dead. Bella laughing. Pain.

"Potter, Potter."

Someone was calling his name.

He couldn’t cast the cruciatus.

"Potter! Harry!"

Harry blinked. He was gasping and until he reached up to right his glasses he hadn’t even noticed the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

"I thought that was the memory I took out," Snape said from somewhere next to him.

Harry didn’t trust himself to be able to say anything, specially considering what had just happened, what Snape had seen him do—crying of all things.

"Now I wonder what you did take out of your mind," Snape said. "Clearly it had to be important."

Harry wiped his eyes a final time with the sleeve of his shirt. "I wasn’t thinking about him. I forgot about that memory, the possibility of…of it coming up."

Harry glared at the clock; there was still a minute left. He was still thinking about Sirius now, after bringing the memory forth in his mind that day. It had been his fault. That much no one would admit, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t know—didn’t expect that they didn’t think so, not even Snape held him at fault.

Harry stood up and stretched, walking from one side of the room to the other. He sighed. It would be the beginning after midnight. He would grow up. He would change for the better even if it meant going to someone for help when he needed it, like he had needed it the year before. If he had just gone to Snape, or remembered the mirror, or…done a number of other things everything could have been different.

Snape. Harry sighed. He didn’t know what to think about the man anymore. He was better, now, probably on Dumbledore’s orders but he had begun to see him not in any new particular way, but he’d seen something different about the man.

He took another glance at the clock, and smiled—it was midnight. Officially—or maybe still unofficially—he was sixteen.

Harry grabbed his book and put the clock back in its place. He left the kitchen and walked down the hall to stairs. He did not get far before the door to the house was opened and Harry saw the outline that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else stumble into the foyer.

"Professor!" Harry gasped and rushed forward.

Snape grasped his shoulder. "Harry?" He questioned.

"Sh-should I get Remus?" Harry asked, dropping his photo album on the floor, as he led the obviously hurt potions master to the drawing room.

Harry gently put his professor on the couch.

"What should I do?" Harry asked quickly.

"Get Lupin, then floo Dumbledore," Snape said, shakily.

Harry nodded. "Right." And then he was running up the stairs to Remus’ room.

The door was closed but Harry didn’t knock instead he rushed into the room and to the bed against the wall. "Remus, wake up!" Harry said, shaking the last remaining marauder.

"Wh-what is it? Harry, what’s wrong?" Remus rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed.

"Snape. He’s hurt or something, he was shaking terribly. Anyway he told me to call you and that I should floo the headmaster afterwards. He’s in the drawing room."

Remus stood up quickly and put on his shoes before grabbing his robes and throwing them on. "Quickly, Harry, something is going on no doubt and it must be important. Go floo Dumbledore, I’ll be down in a minute."

Harry nodded, watching Remus walk to another room down the hall before he once more headed to the kitchen, grabbing floo powder from a colorful jar next to the fire.

"Dumbledore’s office!" Harry shouted and stuck his head in the fire.

In mere moments he was looking at the floor of the headmaster’s office. He couldn’t help but remember the last time he had been there, but pushed the thoughts away.

"Professor Dumbledore! Headmaster!"

A minute after he had called for him, Dumbledore was kneeling before him.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked concerned.

"Professor Snape told me to call for you, he’s hurt, I think, Remus is with him," Harry said quickly.

"I shall be there shortly, Harry," Dumbledore said. "And, Harry, happy birthday."

Harry nodded but pulled back out of the fire, shaking himself slightly before he walked back to the drawing room.

Snape was drowning a purple potion when Harry entered. "He said he’d be here shortly. Are you alright, Professor."

Snape merely glared at him but nodded slightly.

"That’s all I can do, Severus," Remus told him.

Snape nodded and opened his mouth to say something but there was a loud crack suddenly, followed by the sound of something falling on the floor above.

"What was that?" Snape asked.

Remus shrugged. "I’ll go check it out," He offered, leaving Harry alone with Snape.

"It was Voldemort, wasn’t it? You went to a meeting with him, that’s how this happened. He tortured you."

Snape nodded. "He wasn’t happy with the lack of information on when you left your muggle relatives. Needless to say, the wards fell completely tonight and Voldemort thought to attack the house."

Harry gasped. "Are—what about my aunt and uncle?"

Snape closed his eyes. "I’m sorry to say that the whole house was destroyed, including everyone living inside it."

Harry nodded slowly. He couldn’t believe it. The Dursleys were dead, just because of him, and yet he couldn’t feel bad about it, not like how he had felt when Sirius had died or even when Cedric had died. But there was a feeling, he just couldn’t identify it, and then it hit him. It was relief.

"I’m sorry for your loss, I did not know you felt anything akin to caring for them."

Harry laughed. "It’s not that I feel bad, I mean I do, but it’s just I can’t help but feel relief, and maybe that isn’t a good thing to feel when you hear someone you knew had died."

Harry had been looking at the wall while he spoke but he looked at his potions professor when he was finished.

"You forget that I know how they treated you," Snape said. "I can understand your relief. My father, when he died, it could have been one of the best days of my life."

Harry made to reply but Remus had come back. "A birthday present for Harry," Remus said. "I imagine Sirius arranged it,"—he frowned, looking at Harry—"Something left by your parents. There was nothing dangerous about it, as far as I could tell but Dumbledore should take a look at it first."

Harry was shocked more than anything but he said nothing, and then Dumbledore was entering the room.

"What has happened, Severus?" He asked. "I suspect this is urgent."

Snape nodded and begun, "I was called for the meeting at—" Dumbledore cut him off.

"Harry, this is order business, I do believe you should be in bed."

Remus taking a cue from that took Harry’s shoulder and steered him towards the door but stopped when Snape spoke.

"No, Lupin, let the boy stay. This is as much his business as it is anyone else. Have we learnt nothing from what happened last year? If he is to be involved"—He shot Dumbledore a glare—"then he should have as much information as possible. He works better knowing things than not." He and the headmaster shared one more look and then Dumbledore nodded.

Harry found the entire exchange strange enough. Why did Snape want him to stay? Why did he care enough that he have information that was supposed to be for order members only?

July 30, 1996

Severus Snape hissed in pain. The book he had been holding fell with a thump to the ground, but he didn’t look to the book, instead he had pulled his sleeve up and his eyes rested on the mark that burned against his arm, the snake moving—slithering—on his arm, attached to the skull. He grimaced, gritting his teeth and then as if coming to a decision he was up and he was walking out of the room, through the doors, down the stairs. As he went he brought out his wand and he changed his clothes with a flick of it, his mask appearing in his hand.

He could hear no one was awake even though there was a light from the kitchen. He ignored it, however, and instead walked out the door and apparated from the step.

They were mostly already there, except for two of their group. Severus knew who they were immediately from the spots that were left open. Nott and McNair had gotten a mission during the last meeting and it appeared they were not back yet.

“Late, Severus,” Voldemort said.

Severus said nothing until he was standing next to Draco who once more stood stiff next to his father, though this time he had the cover of his death eater garment to hide more of his facial expressions if anything.

“I am sorry, master, for arriving late but I was not in the position to leave the moment I felt your call.”

He had been stupid to let his thoughts get the best of him. He hadn’t been sleeping great lately or at all. He could blame that on Harry Potter—the occlumency lessons were affecting him far more than he wanted to admit.

“At eleven o’clock in the evening, Severus?”

If he had felt any fear at the almost calm voice that Voldemort was using Severus did not show it. “Yes. I was brewing with Poppy Pomfrey for the infirmary.” He said, his voice unwavering.

Voldemort seemed to have taken the excuse, but he said nothing to admit he did. Severus, however, knowing fully well how the dark lord’s mind worked knew he had taken it and felt better, even though now he knew that anything would get him tortured.

“Did you know, Severus, that the wards around Potter’s home weakened a great deal on this night? That at this very moment they are getting so weak that I could probably walk into them.”

This was news to Severus. The shocked expression that came to his face was not fake.

“Ah, I see you did not know,” Voldemort said. “Pity for Harry Potter, then.”

Severus took a moment before asking the question. “Are you attacking his home tonight?” He asked casually.

“Nott,” He announced to all of them. “Has taken a group of death eaters to four Privet Drive, in fact he should be back now with Potter.”

Severus nodded, but said nothing.

“It is perhaps an interesting fact, that on the night—mere hours—before Harry Potter’s birthday that the boy should die. A fitting present for the boy, I believe.” He laughed, his death eaters joined him.

Severus did not laugh, but he noticed the fake sound to Lucius Malfoy’s and the fact that Draco Malfoy did not laugh but clasped his hands together, wringing them.

Their cruel laughter had died out before the crack of apparition came from somewhere to the left of Severus, and he could see, as had been expected that the man had come empty handed.

“He wasn’t there, My Lord,” He said. “Potter was gone, none of his belongings remained. He was simply gone. We killed his aunt and uncle; his cousin threw himself out the window and died instantly. The house was burnt, by the time we were gone aurors had arrived but none of your faithful have been caught. I dismissed them, My Lord, soon after and came straight here.”

Voldemort’s eyes flashed. Severus already knew what was coming. He accepted it; it was part of the role he played. He could do nothing about it, but take it in stride and he was ready. The spell was shot at him, no explanation was needed, they both knew what it was about. Severus had withheld information in the eyes of Voldemort, and even if he had not had the information, he should have had some idea as to what was happening.

Pain wrestled through him—excruciatingly he screamed. He felt as if his body was burning and needles were being pushed into every inch of his skin, and then the spell stopped.

Severus remained on the ground for a couple of minutes before he stood up gingerly. He held himself as normally as possible, ignoring the pain that still ran through him.

Voldemort had already finished punishing Nott and then he was calling Lucius forward. Severus couldn’t hear what Lucius had said but then he was writhing on the ground and his screams echoed around them.

-

-

-

July 31, 1996

They were still sitting in the drawing room, even though Snape had finished telling them the events of the meeting. Dumbledore was staring into the fire, while Remus looked thoughtfully at Snape. Snape had his eyes closed and was looking at the ceiling, calmly, even though Harry knew that the man couldn’t possibly be calm. From time to time he could still see him shudder—after effects of the cruciatus.

“Albus,” Remus broke in a moment later.

Dumbledore turned to look at Remus. “Yes?”

“If there is nothing else, a box arrived for Harry earlier, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, but it would be best if you checked for any spells I might have missed.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Where is it?”

“Harry’s room,” Remus answered and walked to the door, leading Dumbledore out of the room.

Harry looked after them and continued staring at the door long after that. He shifted in his chair and looked away from the door, surprised to meet Snape’s eyes on him.

“Why?” Harry found himself asking.

“Why did I let you stay,” Snape said. “What I said to the headmaster is true. Black often said, during meetings, that you needed to be told at least certain things, but there are many people that care for you who do not understand the difference between what you need and what they want you to need.

“Molly Weasley and many others felt you needed a childhood, you needed to just be not with so many worries. It’s clear to me that you need something like this too but you can’t have it, and that is stronger. To protect you from knowledge of what is going on would be like handing you to him.”

Harry frowned, but said nothing and allowed Snape to continue, but Snape did not but instead he stood up and walked to the window.

“I hated you,” Snape said. “Hated you for who I thought you were. Misconceptions on my part but for the last two weeks, sharing the thoughts we have shared, I understand who and what you are, Potter—Harry—, and maybe this changed what I know is needed for this war.” With that said Snape turned and left the room.

Harry once more wondered—like he had in the past few weeks—if Severus Snape knew about the prophecy, it wasn’t like he could be completely sure Dumbledore had told no one.

Harry entered his room a few minutes later to find Dumbledore pointing his wand at a medium sized wooden box.

“Nothing on it as far as I can tell, except for the remnants of a time-send spell. Can’t be completely sure as to the time it was put on but it seems perfectly fine.”

Remus nodded while stifling a yawn. “I’ll be heading off to bed then,” he announced. “Night, Harry.”

Harry nodded and watched him go.

“It is a precious thing, a gift from someone in the past or the future,” Dumbledore told Harry and turned to leave the room.

“Professor,” Harry said.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Who knows about the prophecy other than the two of us, that is?” Harry asked.

“Professor Snape. Sirius also knew it, as did your parents. No other order members have heard it, and they won’t unless they need to.”

Harry nodded and said nothing else. He shouldn’t be so surprised that Snape not only knew about it, but also knew what it was. Dumbledore trusted Snape beyond anyone else, which had always been something that bothered him before but now didn’t bother him in the least.

Dumbledore left the room and Harry listened to his footsteps recede before he turned to the box and set it down on his bed, opening it. The first thing he noticed was the worn thin black leather bound book which sat next to two potions phials filled to the rim by something he recognized as memories. Harry reached for the book first, knowing he would have to wait for the morning to view the memories if Snape was in any sort of good mood. Despite the fact that he and the potions master were on better terms these days, their relationship was far from a good one. Snape was still a snarky bastard even if Harry was starting to recognize more of his more morbid humor.

Harry had been wary of diaries and journals since his second year but this one did not seem to have any sort of dark magic interlaid with it, so as he opened it, Harry was not in particular worried as to what would be written inside.

The first page was blank but Harry found an envelope in between the cover and that page. He decided to open the envelope first and read what was inside it before proceeding with the book, so with that thought with trembling fingers he opened the envelope and pulled out five pieces of folded parchment. He unfolded them, slowly, and quickly looked for the signature of whoever had send him this, when he found it he dropped the pieces of parchment and with eyes wide, hands shaking, and a number of thoughts running through his head, Harry picked up the letter and took in the three words at the beginning of the letter.

My Dearest Son,

Harry felt a tear roll down his cheek and wiped it away. He folded the letter and threw it back into the box with the book, closing it and setting it down gently underneath his bed so he didn’t have to see it. He wouldn’t read the letter, he wouldn’t look at the memories, he wouldn’t even bother with the book.

-

-

-

“We shall not be having a lesson today, it seems,” Snape said the next morning with a sneer directed not at Harry but Remus.

Harry frowned. “Why not?” He asked.

“It’s your birthday, Potter,” Snape told him. “Apparently celebration is needed.”

Harry grinned at the man sitting across from him drinking tea though he made no move to thank him. Harry knew better than to expect a happy birthday or Snape to admit that it had been his idea to let him off occlumency lessons for the day, but he appreciated it all the same.

“So what exactly will happen tonight?” Harry asked Remus.

“Ah, that would be telling,” Remus said, then as if to change the subject. “I’m curious, what was in the box.”

This sobered up Harry instantly. “I rather not talk about it,” he muttered.

Snape looked at Harry with an odd expression but said nothing. Harry was grateful for that as he finished his breakfast and left the room.

He didn’t know where he was going until he was in Sirius’ room, sitting in front of Sirius’ bed, leaning back against it. How many times had he wished to have something from his parents even if it was the smallest of things? This letter was nothing short of a miracle, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want whatever it was they were giving him, not when that would be the end of it.

Harry closed his eyes. Curiosity, he decided, would be the death of him, but for the time being he would ignore it. He didn’t need to read the letter his father had written him, neither did he need to look at that diary, whose ever it had been. He wouldn’t look at the memories either, not when they no doubt would hold them within—for him to see and not touch.

An hour later he heard the screams of Mrs. Black begin when the doorbell rang.

“Why did you ring the doorbell?” Someone shouted.

“Bloody Gryffindor!” Snape yelled.

Harry found himself smiling as he heard even further arguing, but the shouts of Mrs. Black being put to rest. Then the voices quieted and Harry heard four people climb the stairs. He heard a door down the hall open and a shout of his name.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door. It was Fred who saw him and grinned, poking his twin brother but putting a finger to his lips. Harry heard Fred say something about going to check something out in another room and that Harry was probably in the library before they took Harry each by the arm and closed the door to Sirius’ room behind them.

“Guys, what—”

“We hoped to get you alone,” Fred said. “This is as good a time as any.”

“Alright, what then?” Harry asked.

“Well,” George began. “It’s like this.” He stopped and shared a look with his brother.

Fred sighed. “Fine, I guess I’ll tell him.” Fred nodded to himself and seemed about ready to tell Harry whatever it was, but the door opened and Ron and Hermione glared at the twins.

“You can talk to him later,” Hermione said, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him out of the room.

Curiosity killed the cat. That was his mantra, right? So, if he was going to go with that, he would not be curious about what the twins wanted to tell him, instead he would push away the curiosity. He wasn’t curious about the box under his bed and he was not curious about what the twins wanted to tell him, and lastly he was not at all curious as to how he would be celebrating his birthday.

-

-

-

“We’re going to Diagon Alley,” Ron told Harry half an hour later as he won their game of chess. “We just have to wait for Tonks. She, Remus, and the twins are our so called guard, but tons of aurors patrol Diagon Alley daily there’s like no point to it. Anyway, we’ll finally get to see Weasley Wizard Wheezes.”

Harry said nothing but watched transfixed as one of his pieces was thrown off the chessboard.

“Harry?”

Harry looked towards Hermione lounging on his bed with a book propped open.

“What are you studying with Professor Snape?”

“You’re getting lessons from Snape!” Ron said outraged.

Harry sighed. “Occlumency.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “But, wouldn’t Dumbledore be better at, you know, teaching you.”

Harry answered almost immediately, “no.”

Both Hermione and Ron stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Harry didn’t know what he could say to them. They would never believe that he trusted Snape, or even that Snape was remotely human.

“Well, I’m kind of mad at Dumbledore for a lot of things, and really Snape is doing much better this time around. I don’t know, maybe it’s that I want to learn but we’re getting somewhere.”

Hermione nodded, yet frowned, but she said nothing.

-

-

-

“Surprise!”

Harry was not surprised, not after Fred and George had warned him about it when he had gone into the back room of their shop to look at the things in development.

Fred and George had finally got to talking to him privately as well as given him quite a large bag of new items so that he could advertise once Hogwarts begun again. Harry was thinking of simply giving them away.

“You didn’t have to,” Harry told Mrs. Weasley who seemed to have instigated the entire thing.

“Nonsense, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling him into an embrace.

Harry pulled away moments later and suddenly found himself being passed from person to person until he was suddenly pushed into Snape, who sneered at him and pushed him to the side.

“Professor!” Harry said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Yes, so am I, the day I get bullied by a werewolf into going to a birthday party will no doubt be the strangest day of my life,” Snape told him. “So far, it has been very strange indeed.”

Harry grinned. “Well, thank you for being here.”

Snape did not smile; he did not show appreciation for what Harry had just said, but the slight quirk of his lips allowed Harry to see that Snape was nevertheless glad that Harry appreciated his coming. The next thing that Snape said—Harry was sure this was the way Snape meant it—was meant to stipulate any remotely non-Snape like actions Snape had done.

“I shall however stay no longer than ten minutes, Potter, I do have more important things to do than celebrate your birthday. Now, go on, talk to the rest of this motley group of people.”

Harry smiled and walked away.

“Do remember, Potter, I gave you a day off today, we shall work harder tomorrow.”

-

-

-

Two hours later everyone had been fed and watered. Snape had remained in a corner throughout the entire night reading though Harry had seen him levitate two pieces of cake.

“Present time!” Chirped Ginny.

Harry smiled at the red head and nodded in agreement. A pile of presents appeared in front of him. He reached for the first box and began unwrapping it. Inside he found a book and a note from Hermione.

To help you close your mind.

Harry smiled and mouthed a thank you to Hermione, handing the book to Snape who had been lurking in the corner behind him. The man raised his eyebrows and looked towards Hermione, before nodding at Harry. No one noticed the exchange.

Ron handed Harry the next present, but before Harry could open it, there was a loud crash and in the middle of the room, the wooden box Harry had stashed under his bed sat.

“What the—” Ron began.

“No,” Harry groaned turning away so that no one could see the tears that lingered in his eyes, and then when looking towards it again, he shook his head. “I don’t want to see it,” He said to the room. “Just—just take it away. I—I’ll open the rest tomorrow.” With that said Harry walked to the door. “I want to be alone,” he added lastly before leaving.

-

-

-

“Everyone’s gone,” Snape said from the doorway.

Harry barely nodded. He’d been staring at the wall for the past hour and continued to do so, now.

“It wasn’t for you,” Snape continued. “It was for me.”

Harry swirled around to face him. “For you, but—”

Snape stepped farther into the room. “I haven’t opened it,” He told Harry. “I won’t open it until you open yours.”

“I have,” Harry said. “There’s nothing in there that I need nor want.”

Snape looked at him oddly. “You are not a coward, Potter!” Snape snapped at him. “Now you will take out the box from where ever it is you are hiding it and you will look at what is inside it, and I will stand right here until you do it.”

Harry was surprised at the strange ferocity that Snape was giving him, and he wasn’t even calling him names or telling him how worthless he was.

“No,” Harry said, however.

“Then I shall remain here all night,” Snape told him matter-of-factly.

Harry glared at him like the petulant child, but climbed under the bed and retrieved the box, with shaking fingers. He didn’t want to know what the letter said. He didn’t want to know what they could possibly want to tell him through their diary, and more importantly, he desperately wanted some idea as to whether everything in the letter would make his life worse or better.

Harry tried to ignore the other presence in the room as he took out the envelope again and took the letter out. Without glancing at Snape he read the first three words out loud.

“My Dearest Son.” Harry looked at Snape. “Interesting enough for you?” He asked, bitterly.

Snape said nothing but he walked towards Harry and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It is rather ungrateful to not read that letter which was no doubt as hard for you to read as it was for them to read.”

Harry shrugged Snape’s hand off. “I want to be left alone by the dead.”

“That will never happen. Read it. I’ll leave you to it,” Snape said, picking up his own box. “Something must be important for James Potter to send me something. I must say I rather am curious.”

Snape turned to leave.

“Stay,” Harry said in a small voice.

“Whatever for?”

“I won’t read it if you don’t,” Harry explained.

Snape looked unsure of what to do. Harry motioned for him to sit, and looked once more at the letter.

“My Dearest Son,” He began reading.

October 15, 1981

“My Dearest Son,” James Potter read. “Do know that I—we—love you.”

Lily nodded smiling, but did not motion for James to continue reading. Instead she extended her hand, not looking at Harry whose head rested safely on her lap. James handed her the letter and closed his eyes. Lily read the letter.

Lily had tears in her eyes as she folded the letter up again. “This works,” she said softly. “I didn’t write the one to Severus yet. I will soon, oh god, he’ll hate me for this.”

James reached towards his wife and took her hand. “He wouldn’t hate you, love,” he whispered. “He loved so much.”

-

-

-

July 31, 1996

Harry looked at Snape, speechless, before he stood, looking bewildered around his room. He had only read the first few sentences to Snape before succumbing to reading to himself. Snape had said nothing but simply clutched at his box and watched him. Snape didn’t know the contents of the letter. Snape didn’t know that he was Harry’s father—he didn’t know understand that Harry’s whole world had been turned upside down. Here was the man that had hated him since he had first set foot in the Great Hall; the man that had made his life miserable all throughout potions, and he was—Harry didn’t even think he could say it or think it to himself again—his father. He could shudder at the thought of the implications that brought forth.

Harry felt himself being led to his bed. He blinked a couple of times, coming back to focus. He said nothing, however, and simply stared at Sna-his father, then he laughed. Snape was his father! It was stupid, it was laughable, it was—true.

“Potter?”

Snape sounded almost worried. This bothered Harry. Snape should not be worried about him, Snape wasn’t his father—not where it counted—he had never cared before—Harry needed him not to care.

“I’m—I’m okay,” Harry muttered. “Just a shock, I need time alone.”

Snape nodded gently. “Alright, then, I’ll go,” He said and watching him hesitantly he left the room.

Harry wrung his hands. He shifted nervously in his bed. Snape would no doubt go to his room and open the box. Then he would know exactly who Harry was to him, and then life like he knew it would change, not that he expected Snape to take him or anything, but Snape would know and Dumbledore would then find out, and knowing Dumbledore he would force Snape to spend even more time with him and then when someone found out Snape was actually Harry’s father Snape would be killed in an attempt to get to him.

Harry sighed and curled into a small ball. He liked Snape, well, he was tolerant of Snape, at most, and really the man had always been a constant in his life since he began at Hogwarts.

Snape had been there for him in his first year. The only teacher to notice Quirrel was trying to throw him off his broomstick. Snape had tried to save his life; in fact he had saved his life. He’d always acted towards him as if he was normal as if he wasn’t Harry Potter the boy who lived. To Snape he had been just another foolhardy boy in his class. Thinking back Harry found he appreciated everything the man had done for him. He had stood in front of he and his friends when Remus had turned into a werewolf, and he had been trying to keep him alive when he went into the Shrieking Shack even if he had been a bit unreasonable. Snape had argued with Dumbledore to keep Harry out of the Triwizard Tournament and now that Harry thought about it, Dumbledore should have been able to. And then, the year previous he had tried to teach occlumency, Harry just hadn’t wanted to learn it, but Snape had tried.

Snape had always been there. In the background mostly, but he had been there, unchangeable and acting his part, but there nonetheless. And Snape was his father. What did that mean exactly? What did it entail?

Harry heard a large crash and jumped. Then a door slammed and footsteps carried someone to his door, and past it, down the stairs and out the front door. Harry knew it was Snape, and Snape knew the truth.

-

-

-

August 1, 1996

Harry had a fitful sleep that night, and upon waking up didn’t feel as if he even wanted to get out of bed, but one look at the letter that lay on the floor, and the open box containing the memories and the journal and he was slowly sitting up, and swinging his legs out of bed and kneeling down next to them, reaching for the worn diary.

He stared at it for a long moment and then closed his eyes, dropping it back into the box and moving to grab fresh clothes to change into. He glared for a moment at the box before changing quickly and leaving the room, headed to the kitchen. When he passed the drawing room he noticed his pile of presents remained there unopened.

“Good morning, Harry,” Remus greeted him, while pouring a cup of tea for Harry and setting it on the table.

Harry took his seat and pulled the sugar towards him, before lifting his gaze to look at Remus. “Did Professor Snape arrive back, yet?” He asked.

“I wasn’t aware he left.” Remus frowned.

“Didn’t you hear him slam his door last night and then leave the house?” Harry asked, feeling almost glad that Remus had not noticed, but also glad the man was not back. He didn’t know how he would possibly deal with him when he returned. How he could deal with the situation as a whole.

“No, I heard nothing. But, if he’s not back then, want to open all those presents after breakfast?”

For a lack of anything better to do, Harry nodded. He wanted as much distraction from everything as possible.

It took them the better part of an hour to get through all the gifts his friends had showered him with, though Harry was less than pleased to find Dumbledore had gotten him a penseive; now the temptation to see what the memories his parents had sent him contained swallowed over him.

“I’m surprised he didn’t give you this before,” Remus said when he saw the object. “It was your father’s. I don’t believe anyone’s ever told you, but he was a great at occlumency and legilimency. His—your grandmother—taught him how during our seventh year, he was quite a natural. This was his back then.”

Harry frowned but said nothing; instead he just picked it up and a few other items and carried them to his room. After depositing them on his bed he turned to go, but when his eyes landed on the potion phials that contained the memories he stopped and walked back picking both phials up. He set them down on his bedside table and put the penseive next to them before he poured them into the basin. Then, before he could lose his nerve he moved as close as he could and made to enter the memories, but the door opened before he could.

Harry stepped back and looked towards the door. Severus Snape stood there, looking at him with an odd expression.

“So, Potter,” Snape said. “You’re my son.”

“Yes,” Harry said, not quite looking at the man in front of him anymore.

Neither said anything. Harry inched farther away from the penseive and as soon as he was far enough from it, dared to look up at his father—his father!

“Wha-what happens now?” Harry asked.

Snape took a moment to consider something before speaking, “I have informed Dumbledore of the development. It is quite an unfortunate turn of events considering my job for the order if anyone were to find this out. A plan is being devised in that case. Either way, we need not worry about that yet. Dumbledore does on the other hand offer congratulations and wishes that we perhaps learn more about each other.

“I have considered everything and I do think it is in our best interests to get along far better than we do now, even with the lessons. The ministry will not be in particular happy about this, but it will all come to light.”

Harry took in all he had said, and spoke only after he had managed to calm down somewhat. “My appearance, it’s supposed to change, to show my real self, I guess, anyone would be able to tell after a few big changes, if they paid enough attention.”

“Do not worry about that,” Snape said, and looked towards the penseive. “What were you planning on viewing?”

“Something that came in the box,” Harry said as if that served for explanation enough.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Snape said. “This does not excuse you from your lesson.”

Harry almost smiled as Snape left, but then he glanced at the penseive. The liquid swirled within it and Harry frowned, stepping towards it. He had to see what was inside those memories. He moved to stand in front of it. His hands clutched the sides of it and then he leaned towards it and he was twirling, falling, and he was inside the memory.

July 31, 1996

Severus Snape looked curiously at the box in front of him. From the reaction that Potter had had to the letter his parents had written him it had been quite clear to Severus that something Potter hadn’t liked had been in the letter and it had to do with him. This more than anything worried him and made him curious. James and Lily Potter had sent him something from the past and it was bound to be important.

He opened the box with care, waiting for the worst to happen. Even in death he wouldn’t underestimate James Potter and his penchant for pranks.

The box held a number of phials filled with what he recognized as memories, at least fifteen. He picked one up, looking at the label. He read it with a frown. “Month two,” he said to himself and put it back in the box, picking up another and reading it, “Month five.”

He spotted the envelope, then, with his name written directly across the middle in the neat spidery handwriting he recognized almost immediately as Lily’s.

With almost trembling hands he picked it up, weighting the heavy parchment in his hands before he opened it. He didn’t read it. Instead he set it down next to the box and stood up. He didn’t want to in essence read the letter to find something that if he were to go by Potter’s reaction would be terrible for him. But he had to know. He wouldn’t put it off like Potter had if only to be forced to read it by someone.

His hands reached for it and he picked it up, unfolding it, and then he began to read.

Severus,

It’s strange to write a letter to someone that will not be the person I know at all. Sixteen years is a long time, but even with that I cannot even begin to imagine the man you will become. Silly thoughts, I know, but as you always reminded me, this was for the best, and I can only hope that when you read this letter Voldemort has long been a part of your past. I can’t even try to picture you sixteen years from now still serving him, even if it would continue to be for the cause.

James continues to tell me this letter is a precaution so that the truth doesn’t die with us. That’s my main reason for writing this and maybe to tell you how much I hated the plan. How much I now regret agreeing to it.

Someone’s memories are precious, but know that you wanted it this way, that you came up with this plan despite how much it hurt you. I think that’s why you, such a great occlumens, asked James to obliviate your memories, so you wouldn’t be tempted by what you lost. James lied to you, you know, I was surprised that you didn’t catch on. He didn’t obliviate your memory but he took your memories and now I return them. Yes, James was your enemy, but you’ll find within those phials the memories of months upon months during which you nearly even became friends.

He respected you, Severus, truly, and I must say it was as much a surprise to me as you, but I think he always knew that what you gave us made you the better man. He wouldn’t have made done it. He was too selfish to give up something that he valued so much like you did. He’ll never say it, but I think I know him well enough to say this, James Potter was jealous of you. Why he picked you I will always wonder though I have some idea, I still doubt he’ll ever tell me.

I know I skirted the subject many times already, and I must get to the point quickly. I think if some of your mannerisms weren’t lost to time by now you’d be impatient with me. So, I’ll just write it out.

You have a son.

Now you’re probably shaking your head and denying even the possibility but still thinking about Harry whom you know to be my son. But it’s true, Severus, I wouldn’t play some prank on you like this. You have a son and he’s Harry Potter—Harry Snape.

An explanation is in order, I imagine.

To start off, I was the one that found the spell and showed it to James. We’d been trying to have a baby for months but it wasn’t really working. This spell called for a substitute. It called for someone that shared the same blood as James to impregnante me. I told James it was his choice to continue on. When he picked you I knew you’d either say no or be offended. I still loved you and James knew this. Maybe he felt our baby should still be created by love rather than because of family loyalty.

You remained around us for that time, making sure I was alright, mostly. James became almost fond of you as I’ve mentioned before. The two of you were very alike and could have interesting conversations even though some topics were far from being open for conversation between the two of you.

I was never sure how you would view Harry, but James was sure that you never wanted to be a father, and with my knowledge of you I couldn’t help but agree with this. You’d claimed before when asked the question that you were far from wishing that you could be a father. You didn’t trust yourself to not be like your father—like Tobias.

But when Harry was born you were in love.

You’re probably scoffing and rolling your eyes, especially if you know him or you’ve seen him. I will admit that he looks exactly like James, your spell might have taken even the few features he got from me in favor of James.

I will not take claim for the spell or even the plan you came up with.

When we heard about the prophecy and that it could apply to Harry, and that Voldemort was aware of Harry, we knew you’d be in danger if anyone ever found out your connection so you decided to change his appearance and then before you left to never see him again you asked James to obliviate your memories.

James took them instead and because I hated the idea of you losing such memories, and I think James might have felt the same way, we time-sent them to you, with a few things for Harry in case that something happened to James and I.

I wish I could share with you this time I have with Harry, now, that you could see how big he is, and just how wonderful this boy, your son, is.

I ask that you care for him. That you at least give him a chance. He’s your son and even though he has James, to him when he finds out that you are his father, he’d need you especially if James and I are gone. If you do not do it for me.

Lastly and I will say it again: I love you.

Yours,

Lily

P.S. The charm will wear off in six to twelve months. That in part is why I tell you this. Please look at the memories, if only to appease your curiosity.

-

-

-

Dumbledore sat in Harry’s usual chair in the library when Harry entered it for his occlumency lessons that afternoon. Across from the headmaster sat Snape—his father, Harry reminded himself with something akin to disgust—glaring at the fire.

“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore said smiling, the ever present twinkle in his eyes brighter for some reason.

“Good Afternoon, Headmaster,” Harry said, taking a seat on the chair next to Snape that usually held Snape’s stack of books which Harry saw sitting on a table in the far corner.

“Well,” Dumbledore said, with clear bluntness. “We have quite a bit to talk about, don’t we?”

Harry said nothing, but Snape spoke, “I hardly doubt anything more than the change of plans concerning the death eaters is needed.”

“Severus,” Dumbledore said in what sounded like a warning.

The potions master rolled his eyes and looked away from the other occupants of the room towards the fire.

Harry found he was smiling slightly at Snape’s actions, but wiped that off his face when he turned to look at Dumbledore.

“What exactly are we discussing?”

Dumbledore considered Snape before answering Harry, “You’ve had little time to consider the ordeal, not to mention the deaths of your relatives,” Dumbledore stated. “You are without protection, now, even here.”

“I’ll be at Hogwarts soon and then I’ll only have a couple of months afterwards for my birthday when the protection would have failed regardless.”

“You put too much faith in the castle, Harry,” Dumbledore said sadly.

“What do you suggest then, Professor?” Harry asked genuinely curious.

“I’ve been looking for a reason the wards failed before the Dursleys were killed. Sirius could not have affected the spells to that point, but something else could. Lily’s spell failing…” Dumbledore seemed to be talking to himself more than to Harry, and now stopped while he thought about something. “I’ve considered,” He said, looking intently at Snape, “if perhaps she was more connected to you as long as her spell remained intact.”

Snape spoke, then, turning to actually look at Dumbledore, “What exactly does this have to do with me?” He asked.

“You are his father,” Dumbledore stated rather bluntly.

Snape gave the headmaster a dark look and then looked away again.

“If the case is that Lily’s spell failing brought that on, then, the only thing we could do at this time is make another protection ward for you, a more permanent one. Voldemort”—Snape flinched but did not look away from the fire—“grows stronger and the war is becoming much harder to keep at bay and hidden from the muggles. He is planning something and we cannot leave you unprotected.”

Harry nodded in concession but instead of looking at Dumbledore, he looked at Snape who was still facing the fire, looking thoughtful.

“You want me to somehow offer him that protection?” Snape asked not facing either of them.

“Lily loved you.”

Snape scoffed. “That has nothing to do with anything, Albus.”

Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He knew his mom had loved Snape—his father—at some point but hearing it laid out like this bothered him.

“It has everything to do with everything, dear boy,” Dumbledore said. “Lily and you had a connection. That alone will allow us to set the spell. That you are his father makes things even simpler.”

Snape stood suddenly, looked at Dumbledore and walked to stand at the other side of the room as if he was thinking something through. Harry watched him.

“If this works, then what?” Harry asked, thinking about living with the Dursleys. Would this mean living with Snape? Snape couldn’t be much worse than the Dursleys, right?

“It would mean that you will have to consider any place Professor Snape considers as home as home. In fact I would have encouraged this even if the spell were not needed. I rather think it would be best for a relationship to grow between the two of you. You are family and you will need each other in the future.”

Harry considered what Dumbledore had said. What would happen in the future when he could be easily recognized as Snape’s son? He was sure Snape would have to cease being a death eater by that point—Voldemort would see it as betrayal if he ever found out about Snape’s intrusion on Harry’s life without hurting him. And then when the public found out—Harry didn’t think he could handle even thinking about how everyone else would take it—they would want them to get along, and if they didn’t things would go from bad to worse.

Harry sighed audibly and looked at Dumbledore. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Somehow we must come to an arrangement regardless if only for the sake of the ministry.”

“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I think I will always wish things could have been different for the two of you.” Then he stood, looking at the strange watch on his wrist. “Alas, I really must get going. Severus, are you willing to do the spell?”

Snape didn’t answer.

“I will expect an answer by tonight, Severus.” Dumbledore gave the man a pointed look. “Do not disappoint me.”

It seemed to Harry, between watching the two, that Dumbledore had already decided for Snape, but he said nothing about the matter instead muttered a good-bye to Dumbledore and watched him depart via floo.

-

-

-

August 2, 1996

His eyes were closed as he pressed his forehead against the cool pane of glass that made up the only window in the small nursery, looking out into a cobbled street, watching a couple strolling peacefully with a small dog that didn’t really seem to require the walk as it was attempting to lie down on the street and rest. His black eyes followed the two innocent muggles as the woman picked up the small dog and cuddled him in her arms, receiving happy buoyant licking from the canine.

Severus moved away from the window, letting the curtains fall into place. He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand and then crossed the room to the wooden crib from which a baby looked towards him with interest.

“Harry,” Severus said with fondness and reached to pick of the miniscule body, cradling him in his arms. “Oh, look at you, you wonderful boy.”

Baby Harry gurgled happily, one of his arms reaching clumsily upwards as if attempting to grab something from the air.

“Silly child, I’m not James,” Severus told him as if Harry could understand perfectly well what he was saying.

Harry looked up at Severus perplexed.

“You know I love you, Harry,” Severus told his son. “Even though you do not understand me, I wish you could somehow always know that I’ll love you, but maybe that is what will make this better—your lack of knowledge. So I will talk freely, even though I am quite aware of what will happen in two days. I will have lost you from my memory.

“I can only hope that when, if, there is a moment in time when we know who and what we are to each other that then we will not lose our heads and that we can try to get this back, because at this moment I don’t know if I could live without you in my life. You are my son, even if James will be your father in that perfect way that will make it so much harder for you to allow me into your life. I’m surprised at myself, really, at this attachment, because this was always the plan. You were supposed to be his not mine, maybe it’s just you are so easy to love…”

Severus dropped a kiss on Harry’s head. “Merlin, this is harder than I imagined.”

Harry looked at him with his big green eyes as if he knew what would happen.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Severus told him. “Years from now I’ll probably hate you and I won’t even remember you trusting me so much, and you’ll probably hate me too.”

Harry moved slightly in his arms and Severus smiled at him crookedly before walking to Lily’s chair and sitting down, holding Harry close. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to forget you,” he told his son.

Harry gasped into awareness. It took him a moment to figure out where he was but then after he had processed this, he was engulfed by the vivid dream that he knew had actually happened in the past for it had been one of the memories he had viewed earlier that morning, or rather the previous morning, he realized, when he looked at his muggle wrist watch and it read, “3:12”.

Harry sat up slowly, and reached for his glasses, slipping them on while pondering if he should get out of bed and do something constructive instead of lay in bed for the next hour or so, overanalyzing the memory while still trying to figure out how he should feel about Snape after viewing what had happened in the past.

Sliding his feet out of bed, Harry wondered what he could work on before he spied the book Hermione had gotten him for his birthday. He picked it up and after finding the slippers Hermione had knitted him last winter when he had complained to her about the cold dormitory floors and having to use his shoes when he woke up in the middle of the night, Harry slipped his feet into them and then he was walking down the hall and entering the library.

The fire was blazing, with candles littering about the room. It was the first sign that someone else was in the library, but Harry either ignored that or didn’t notice as he continued onto his favorite chair, where he would curl up to read the book.

The slight coughing noise alerted Harry to the fact that he wasn’t alone, and as he looked over to the chair across from him, he almost allowed himself to groan. He just couldn’t escape the man.

“That, Potter,” Snape told him in a voice that meant he wasn’t pleased to find himself with a companion. “Is the reason that it is doubtful you will ever truly vanquish the Dark Lord.”

“Alright, then,” Harry said with a resigned expression, as he stood up once more. “I’ll be reading elsewhere.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Sit down, Potter!” he snapped.

“Snape, isn’t it?” Harry asked.

“Forgotten who I am, have you?” Snape asked before he seemed to have garnered what Harry meant, and then he shot Harry a glare.

Harry found this almost amusing, having been on the receiving end of most of the potions master’s glares for the past five years.

“Well, it is,” Harry said.

Snape chose to ignore it. “Sit down,” He repeated instead.

Harry sat, dropping his book onto his lap. He looked at Snape—his father, he reminded himself—and waited.

“I think a drink is in order,” Snape said. “A nightcap, if you will.” He stood and walked to the other side of the room and walked back carrying two glasses filled to the rim with some sort of amber liquid.

Harry didn’t ask what it was as he took the glass and brought it to his lips, tasting it. The warmth feeling that he had recognized as coming from drinking the alcoholic drink sank into him and he looked towards the man he hated calling “father” and awaited whatever it was that Snape would tell him.

“Dumbledore and I have spoken again, just under an hour ago, in fact, and as painful as it is to even

think about sharing my home with you, Potter, he feels that it is within our abilities to get along and perhaps form some sort of working relationship.” He stopped, took a large gulp of his drink and spoke again, “I am not your father. I will not act like your father. I do not care for you, Potter, and I will not be a parent to you. James Potter was your father. I will ask only that you follow my rules while in my house and that for once you learn to listen, but nothing will change. It will be as if none of this was uncovered. You are my son in name only.”

Harry was more than ready to agree with that and nodded as he finished the drink he had been sipping at nervously.

“I can agree to that,” Harry said. “When are we going to your home?”

Snape looked as if he didn’t want to answer the question, as if he wanted to just forget about the entire world and just be left alone to mind his own business.

“Tomorrow, Potter,” He said. “Dumbledore and Lupin will be the only ones that know of your location. The spell will be cast by the three of us tomorrow morning.”

An hour later found Harry still sitting in the library, though this time the book Hermione had given him was open and he was intently reading about how while occluding it was easier to have some calming image in your mind that would at some point wind up being the wall that helped keep everything out.

Across from Harry, Snape was watching him. Harry could feel the potions master’s eyes on him but didn’t look up, continuing his reading.

“It’s late,” Snape said a moment later. “You should go to bed. There will be a lot to do tomorrow morning.”

Harry shrugged but stood up, marking his place in the book before closing it.

“Good-night,” Harry muttered and left the library.

As he got into bed a minute later, Harry couldn’t help but once more consider Severus Snape. At some point, even though he, Harry, couldn’t remember it, the man had cared about him and had known that he would at some point hate him even if at the time he had wished that it wouldn’t happen. Shaking the thought that Snape could maybe change because of the past he turned on his side and closed his eyes thoughts still mulling over his father.

-

-

-

The house was normal, far too normal than what Harry had expected it to be like. He was sitting on a wooden chair that Dumbledore had conjured up when they had arrived, nibbling on a piece of toast while watching Snape, Lupin, and Dumbledore as they waved their wands around Snape’s house in strange partners.

“I think everything is in order around the house,” Snape remarked, coming to stand next to Harry. He sneered at him as he looked at the piece of toast. “Potter, I will not have you eating like a mouse in my house!” He snapped.

Harry stared at him and opened his mouth, not quite knowing how to respond. Not only had Snape rhymed but…He turned away, spotting Remus walking towards them.

“Is there anything else we need to do?” He asked the werewolf.

“No. All set.” Remus Smiled.

Harry had been wondering since he had woken up that morning, if there was more to the warding than the spells, but it seemed that nothing more than the usual process was needed.

“We should head inside,” Snape said, once Dumbledore was headed their way.

Harry stood up, still clutching his toast and watched as the chair he had been sitting on disappeared. He turned to look at Snape, but he was already walking ahead, next to Dumbledore, looking as if he was arguing about something.

Remus smiled at him and threw an arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the house.

“It’ll be fine, you know,” Remus told him. “Even if it is Severus that wound up being your father.”

Sighing, Harry looked up at the man he had believed to be his father’s best friend. He’d been surprised when Remus hadn’t changed upon learning the news of Harry true parentage.

“I don’t care, Harry,” Remus told him. “You are still you, nothing changes that. I am still as proud of you as I was when we believed you were James’ son.”

Harry smiled at the werewolf wider and Remus gave him a half-hug. “Now, come on, I’ve been dying to see the feared potions master’s digs.”

Harry laughed and walked alongside Remus to his new home.

His new home, where he would live with Snape—his father—and have what he expected to be, the strangest summer of his life.

He and Remus stepped inside the house, trailing after Snape and Dumbledore who had continued on, to a room directly next to the entrance. As Harry took in his surroundings, Remus led him to the drawing room. Dumbledore was standing by the hearth, still talking to Snape in low tones.

“I must say good-bye for this time,” Dumbledore said. “You’ll be alright here, Harry,” He said in an assuring tone towards Harry. “I shall see you later tonight, Remus to discuss your return to Hogwarts.”

Harry whirled to look at Remus. “You’re teaching again?”

“Well, it hasn’t been officially decided,” Remus said.

Harry rolled his eyes, but gave Remus a fond look. He’d loved Remus’ classes back in his third year and to have him back was great news to him. He’d always thought of Remus almost like an uncle that couldn’t always be there to help him out on things, but truly meant well.

“Defense is going to be great!” Harry exclaimed with zeal. “I mean after Umbrige last year you’ll have a lot to catch everyone up to, even with the DA.” Harry looked as if he could have continued on but stopped when Remus looking at him amused shook his head.

“I have a feeling,” Remus said. “That we’re going to have to talk a bit about those DA members of yours.”

Dumbledore who had been lingering by the fire, nodded at them and stepped into the fire shouting his destination. Harry watched the flames engulf the headmaster, and turned away to look at Snape who was sitting thoughtfully, ignoring him and Remus.

Harry shrugged and once more looked at Remus, absentmindedly bringing his toast to his mouth. It was as he did this that Snape jumped up.

“That is hardly breakfast, Potter!” He said. “Come along, now.” And then he strode out of the room.

Harry looked to Remus who was just as befuddled as he was, before following, muttering to Remus as he went, “I’m not even hungry.”

Remus doubled up in laughter as if he had found some meaning in the situation that Harry had not. Harry glared at him.

“Well, go on, if he actually starts making breakfast this would make my week.”

August 1, 1996

Draco Malfoy bit into his apple and continued along his walk, taking in the well cared for roses that his mother loved and the albino peacock that flew above him that his father was quite fond of, and then he looked down at his left arm, his eyes closing as they went over the hidden mark on his forearm under his long sleeved shirt. He was a death eater. The thought still made him shudder.

Draco shook himself and brought another apple out of his pocket and brought it to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it, before continuing on his stroll. He hadn’t gone much farther before his name was being called. He stopped but didn’t turn to look at his mother.

“Draco, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Narcissa Malfoy said. “Come inside, dear, you must get ready to go to Lydie’s.”

Draco suppressed a groan and instead nodded, trying to find a way to get out of going. It wasn’t that he hated social visits like this, just that this particular one involved Lydie Parkingson and her daughter, Pansy whom his parents continually insisted he would marry. Draco could shudder at the thought, and regardless, even if he were interested in Pansy, which he wasn’t, she was in love with Blaise Zabini, not that Blaise was interested in her, who would be? But he hated being paired off with her. If he had to hear Pansy whining about how Blaise didn’t like her one more time he didn’t know what he was going to do.

Draco followed his mother back to the house. His mother was rambling on about something or other, gossip—he recognized—when she mentioned Mrs. So-and-so’s son who had just married a muggle-born.

“The nerve of such people!” Narcissa exclaimed when she had finished telling the story and they were upon the house.

Draco nodded slightly, and moved into the foyer, trying to find an excuse for his not going, and then he felt a shock go through his arm, but the usual pain didn’t follow. Still he gasped in shock. His mother looked at him questioningly.

“My arm feels—I don’t know…weird—” He trailed off.

His mother looked at him concerned and then, “If he were to call you,” she said, thoughtfully, then shook her head. “Fine, get your way then, Dragon.”

Draco nearly smirked at how lucky he was, even though it came with Voldemort’s doing. He looked at his arm warily and sighed. His mother gave him another look and walked away calling for her

personal house elf.

Relief filled Draco as he walked up the stairs to his room. He wouldn’t have to see Pansy and pretend to act as if he liked her and laugh about the last few muggles that had been killed by death eaters. In fact he didn’t want to see any of his friends. He couldn’t hold his mask forever and not end up as messed up as his father. He wasn’t a death eater—he wasn’t a killer.

Draco pushed his bedroom door open and closed it behind him, leaning back against the door as he looked around his grandiose room. It was stupid, he knew, to even consider wanting to give everything up for a future he may or may not get to have being not only the son of a death eater but a death eater himself—as reluctantly as he had become one. He had considered changing sides, becoming maybe a spy for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, but for one didn’t know

how to go about it, and for two, he didn’t know how he could betray his family. It was simply put, a suicide attempt. He’d have to wait until he got back to Hogwarts to even attempt considering betraying Voldemort and his family.

His room was too big. Draco had always thought it was too big, looking empty in its almost too clean state the house elf took care of. It looked like an unused room, almost. He walked across the room and threw himself into his queen-sized bed and leaned back against his numerous pillows and closed his eyes. He’d have to wait just one more month and then he would be at Hogwarts where—if he played his cards right—he could get protection from Dumbledore or—if he could hope to convince him he had changed—from Harry Potter.

Harry Potter. He’d contemplated Potter since the beginning of the summer holidays. Potter had everything. He had the whole wizarding world at his feet and yet he didn’t seem to use this power. Draco sighed. He would need to get on Potter’s good side soon. He needed to stop thinking so critically of him.

-

-

-

Harry’s room was larger than Dudley’s second bedroom, and only slightly bigger than the room he had shared with Ron at 12 Grimmauld Place, but Harry had found a certain peace come over him when he had entered his new room in his new home.

“I take it this is to your liking, then, Potter,” Snape said, watching Harry as he looked around the room.

“Yes,” Harry said simply.

“Probably less than you’re used to with the muggles,” Snape sneered.

Harry glared at him, but quickly turned away. He hadn’t been expecting one of his cutting remarks, so as he looked at the room he tried to remember that this was still Severus Snape—even if he was his father. “You more than anyone,” Harry found himself saying as he stepped forward, “should know that isn’t true.”

Harry barely saw him nod before he turned and left, though not before Harry recognized that he had wanted to say something else but hadn’t.

Harry walked farther into the room, wishing that Remus had stayed and could be there talking to him, but the werewolf had Order stuff to work on, that he wouldn’t identify to Harry as it was confidential. Harry had found it almost amusing to see Snape as confused as he was about whatever Remus was working on which had clearly showed him that Dumbledore didn’t trust Snape as much as he claimed.

Harry sat down on the window seat, to look out into the back of the house, which he was surprised to see had extensive grounds. It would be perfect to fly out there, and he’d been missing quidditch.

-

-

-

July 17, 1996

Severus Snape stepped out of the fireplace in the drawing room of the 12 Grimmauld Place. He walked forward and turned back to look at the hearth, waiting for it to turn green and Dumbledore to step out. He didn’t have to wait long before the headmaster did, and putting an arm around Severus, Albus Dumbledore led him to the kitchen.

“Tea, Severus?” Albus asked.

“No, thank you, Albus,” Severus said, looking around the kitchen with something akin to disgust. “You said you had something to ask of me.”

“Yes.” He waved his wand at the table, where a cup of tea appeared. Snape rolled his eyes and sat down, watching the headmaster as he too took a seat, brought his cup of tea to his lips, and sighed with pleasure.

Severus waited with as much patience as he could, watching Dumbledore.

“I shared with you, two weeks ago, what I had suspected about Voldemort’s mortality,” Dumbledore said. “I told you that my suspicions were correct that night you helped fix my hand, even if the cost for this knowledge was—will be—my life.”

Severus shook his head. “I’m working on a potion for you, you won’t die, Albus.”

Dumbledore smiled sadly. “Severus, not everything can be solved with potions.”

Severus glared at the glamour around Dumbledore’s hand that gave the impression nothing was wrong with it.

“And so what do you need of me?”

Dumbledore hesitated a moment before he spoke, “To take care of Harry once I’m gone.”

“Potter!” Severus Snapped. “Take care of Potter, of all people. I can’t stand the attention seeking, self-important brat, and I need not care for him, not to mention he hates me too.”

Dumbledore listened to this without interruption, and then when Severus had stopped talking and spoke, “Assumptions are never good, Severus, you of all people should know that. You’ve seen his memories, my boy, he is far from being this boy you describe.”

Severus scoffed.

Dumbledore continued, “I want you to continue your lessons in occlumency with him this summer, and I wish for the two of you to get along. Harry is not James, Severus, and spending just one day with him in a civil nature will show you this.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Albus, wouldn’t it be easier for him to learn to block his mind from you?”

“No, my boy, I wish for Harry to not rely on me, not what my fate is so decided.”

“You wish him to rely on me.” Snape all but snapped, sounding scandalized as if the matter was to do with something worse than someone possibly learning to depend on him. “I don’t want bloody Harry Potter anywhere near me.”

“Severus, that boy is not who you think he is, and he is in need of someone. After Sirius died—”

Severus interrupted Dumbledore with a mutter of, “his death was his own fault.”

Dumbledore gave him a weary look, and continued, “—Harry was broken, Severus, I have not seen him since he unleashed his anger onto my office but I doubt Harry is over the death of his godfather. I love him too much to watch him in pain, to see him changed so much. Harry needs someone that will understand him in a way I can’t.”

“And I am that man.” Severus laughed. “How about Lupin? He cares for the boy.”

“Yes, Remus cares, but Remus is also busy with his own things and doesn’t know occlumency as well as you, my boy.”

Severus made a face.

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, cupping the cup with his aged hands. Severus could see the shimmering around the headmaster’s left hand.

“Promise me, Severus,” Dumbledore insisted. “Promise me you will do your best to take care of him.”

“I gave my word to Lily once that I would care for her and hers.”

Dumbledore nodded. “He isn’t James,” he repeated to Severus. “Far from it.”

Severus rolled his eyes.

-

-

-

August 1, 1996

Dinner was an interesting affair.

When Harry entered the dinning room, he found Snape sitting at the head of the table reading. He didn’t look up, but raised a hand to stop Harry from speaking, his eyes moving across the page. When he looked up his black eyes met Harry’s.

“Sit,” He instructed.

Harry walked to the table Snape had motioned to and pulled it out, sitting down.

“What’s for dinner?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure,” Snape replied. “In any case, it should be here soon.”

Harry gave Snape a befuddled look.

“House elves, Potter. The Hogwarts house elves often provide food and other help for the staff, even away from Hogwarts as they don’t have much to do during the summer holidays.”

Harry, who had never wondered what the house elves did during the summer holidays—like Hermione probably did—thought it was somewhat logical for them to continue helping out the professors, even in their own homes.

When the food appeared ten minutes later, silence had fallen upon them. Snape had picked up his book again, and Harry had silently stared at the wall wondering if dinner would always be like that, with them both just sitting there not talking; only sometimes bringing up a subject that could only be considered as small talk.

“I have a potion for you,” Snape told him, when he had once more closed his book to eat his dinner.

“A potion? For what?” Harry asked.

“Nutrition,” Snape stated, reaching into robes to pull out a blue colored potion, which he set in front of Harry.

“From certain eating habits observed by Lupin in the past week we have noticed that you are terribly malnourished.”

Harry stared at Snape—no, his father—had that been the reason Snape had made him a late breakfast, even after he had pointed out that he wasn’t hungry.

“You’ve always been small for your age, Potter, not at all like—” He trailed off and frowned.

Harry looked at the blue potion warily as he ate him chicken, savoring the Hogwarts food that he nearly always missed during the summer unless he was with the Weasleys. That thought made his eyes widen. He felt Snape’s eyes on him but ignored them.

Ron and Hermione. What would he tell them? First Ron would laugh and tell him he was joking, and then when he recognized Harry was serious, the trouble would begin. Ron would turn as read as his hair, first, and then continue on to tell him how terrible it was for Harry to find this out. Harry could see him acting sympathetic, and then upon further realization that Harry was okay with it—he imagined at some point he would be okay with it or at least used to it—he would scream and act as if Harry had committed the worst treason. Harry groaned. He didn’t want to deal with that. Hermione would listen to him, at least, but Harry couldn’t imagine her understanding any of it. Knowing her, she would nag at him about it and annoy him to no end until she either got him to totally agree with her or she understood every last detail. Harry groaned again.

“Potter!”

Harry nearly jumped, and looked towards Snape.

“You were staring into space for quite a while,” Snape told him, “Anything you’d like to share, Potter?”

Harry considered it, took another bite of his dinner, and then spoke, “My friends,” He said. “What should I tell them? I mean, I doubt I’ll see them until school but they won’t take these news as well as I have—I guess. I could keep it a secret like…anyway, it would be hard, knowing them, but—I don’t know.”

Snape pursed his lips. “It is best no one but Remus, Dumbledore, and the two of us knows about this, at least for a time. It is harder to keep something secret if there are many more people in the secret.”

Harry didn’t like lying to his friends, in fact he didn’t really think he should do it, but he was already keeping the prophecy from them. Keeping the fact that Snape was his father from them was just one more thing that they did not need to know, for their protection.

Harry nodded. “I hate lying to them,” He muttered. “I’m not very good at it.”

Snape looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I shall of course. They wouldn’t take it well anyway, and if Ron got annoyed at me, who knows who he would tell.”

Snape nodded once, and returned to his meal. Harry had the impression that Snape had been waiting for him to protest more, from the way he seemed to just take in what Harry said without bother.

-

-

-

August 7, 1996

Harry had a strange dream some nights later.

He was in the middle of a forest, walking along as if he had nothing to worry about. Then he came to a stop, looking with wide eyes at two people arguing, though not loudly enough for him to head them. Another person he had missed when he had first seen the other two, came into his vision a second later, almost as if he had appeared out of thin air. He was hooded, standing stiff, hidden half in shadow, though Harry could make out his platinum blond hair.

“Father,” the recently added person said. Harry could tell as he continued to spy on them, that this one word was said with a muffled groan that the boy—for he was shorter than the other two and Harry could tell his age from his voice—was trying to hide, perhaps from the two men, or only one of them.

“In a minute!” One of the other two hissed.

“Tend to the boy, Lucius,” Harry was surprised to hear the voice of Severus Snape say.

Lucius lowered his hood and Harry recognized the man instantly. The last time he had seen him had been months previous and he had taunted and made fun of him then with his sister in law. Harry had seen the man captured by death eaters and yet, there he was, standing next to Severus Snape.

Lucius turned to his son and lifted his hand to the boy’s head, pulling his hood down. Harry was surprised to see the strange paleness to his skin, the bags under his eyes, and the strange clammy like way his skin looked.

“I’m fine,” Draco insisted, answering the unasked question.

Lucius said nothing to this, but instead looked to the remaining man. Snape had lost his former expression and instead looked almost concerned as he walked closer to the two. Harry followed the man he should call father with his eyes and watched as he performed a diagnostic spell on Draco, nodded to himself, and began searching his robes for potions which he handed to Lucius.

Draco drank two full phials of potions before grimacing at the sip he took of the third, though Harry could clearly see a change in his enemy.

Snape having come to the conclusion that Draco was fine after giving him a long searching look, turned to Lucius.

“What do you want, Lucius?”

Lucius moved slightly. It could have been a nervous gesture only noticed by one that knew him well, but Harry could not be sure of this.

“You’ve skirted the subject since you asked me to remain behind.”

Harry did not hear Lucius’ response. At that moment, he had felt eyes on his back and something slithering towards him.

“Nagini,” Harry hissed.

The snake moved its head to the side and gave Harry a questioning look.

“Go back, Nagini, you have no business here. Tell no one you met me.”

The snake hissed at him threateningly. “You speak to snakes like my master,” she observed.

Harry nodded. “You will not tell him you encountered me, Nagini.”

“Much nicer than my master, you are,” the snake hissed back.

“So you will listen to me.”

Nagini gave what could be considered a vow and then she was slithering away in search of something to eat. Harry couldn’t believe his luck and turned back to looking at Snape, Lucius, and Draco.

“No, Lucius!” Snape had just said.

“Father,” Draco was whispering in an urgent voice.

“Severus, please.”

Was Lucius Malfoy actually begging? Harry would never have thought that even possible.

“He is nothing. He will lose and we will lose everything with him. We must do something.”

Snape seemed to consider it. “Forget your thoughts, Lucius, and do not speak of them to me again!”

Lucius said nothing, but he looked worried.

Draco spoke instead. “Do you care so little for people, professor, for that is what they are, people!”

“Do you care for them, then, for the muggles and mudbloods? Or is it only your skin that you think worth saving?”

Harry listened to this intently. Where the Malfoys trying to switch sides? Why had Draco looked so sick?

The dream changed suddenly and he was standing in a library, and Draco Malfoy was waving at him from across the room.

“Harry!” He suddenly called. “Oh, come on. We have things to do.”

Harry, however, did not walk towards the blond and instead headed towards a bookshelf, muttering to himself.

“What’s wrong with you?” Draco asked, coming up behind him.

“Nothing,” Harry said, almost stiffly. And then he turned, and it no longer was Draco before him, but Voldemort, and he dived at him.

Harry heard screaming around him. It took him a moment to realize it was his screams that he was hearing. His forehead was in searing pain, and a few words remained coherent in his mind. “Pleasant dreams, Harry Potter, you have given me quite some insight in certain matters.” Then the cruel laughter of Voldemort, and a scream that wasn’t his own. Then, Harry heard through his haze of pain, pleading.

“Azkaban for you, Malfoy! And your miserable son shall now suffer your sins.”

Another scream.

And then Harry was sitting up in bed. Two hands were on his shoulders and seemed to have been shaking him. He looked up at the eyes of Snape—his father—and sent a plea. Snape’s hands moved to Harry’s face. He hesitated as if asking if it was alright. One look at Harry gave him an answer, and then he plunged in. Harry felt a calm feeling came over him and he almost smiled at the comfort.

August 7, 1996

Lucius Malfoy shifted in his sleep, allowing himself a groan as he came to consciousness. He lifted his head gingerly and looked around. He was in a cell like room, though the door to the cell was non-existent. He slowly sat up and groaned once more.

In the dim light from the small window for above his head he could make out his hands, his pallid skin caked with bits of dried blood. He wiped his hands on his clothes as best as he could without making much movement, before he closed his eyes and pressed his face against the cold stone wall. He had hoped to never be in Azkaban again, but there he was—sitting in a cell in Azkaban.

He heard a wail from somewhere to the left of him, and then a man wearing nothing but rags appeared before him. He was dirty, and had a somewhat foul stench, but Lucius ignored this.

“Lucius,” the man drawled. “Back again. And you were the dark lord’s favorite.”

Lucius said nothing.

“What did you do to wind up in here, again, eh, Malfoy? Slip away again to help some muggle?”

Lucius remained silent.

The other man continued, “Of course the great Lucius Malfoy would never admit to being a muggle lover. Malfoys are better than scum like the Weasleys, aren’t they?” He allowed himself a smirk. “She died, didn’t she, Lucius,” He stopped for dramatic effect, or so it seemed. “Screaming; pleading for her life at our lord’s feet, where she belonged.”

Lucius simply stared into the distance, though a glint in his eyes showed that he was listening, and that he was remembering something—he was deep in a memory.

“Poor little Lucius,” the prisoner went on, “stuck in Azkaban replaying your worst memories.”

Lucius moved slowly, until he was facing the other man. “What do you know about me, Rookwood?” You know nothing!” Lucius hissed.

Rookwood smirked. “I know more than you can ever expect, about you, Lucius.”

Lucius looked at him blankly. “You know only things that remain irrelevant today.”

“Do I, Lucius?” Rookwood laughed. “I know you still are not loyal to the Dark Lord. And how can you be? After what he did to you, does it matter that you deserved it? I know your old mate Dumbledore was the reason you left this place last time.”

No one knew that. Lucius didn’t give away his surprise. Rookwood laughed again, and he continued laughing as he walked away. “You will pay for your betrayal, Lucius, you or that son of yours. A half-blood, isn’t he? How would Narcissa react to those news?” Rookwood sneered at him.

This time Lucius had a harder time keeping his surprise from his face. Rookwood couldn’t know about that. He just couldn’t possibly be aware of that!

With thoughts running through his head, and pain hitting him every time he shifted to a different position. Lucius found himself wishing that he hadn’t been as stupid as to approach Severus. The greasy haired potions master had no doubt gone to Voldemort. There was no other excuse to why Voldemort had known about his betrayal. Dumbledore wouldn’t get him out of this one, this time and now his son—his dragon—was going to pay for his stupidity. If he could only die so that Draco could live.

Lucius groaned again, this time it wasn’t the pain of moving that made him so, but the cold feeling that had come over him. And then he spotted the hooded, gliding figure. Everything inside him went cold, and then he could hear her screams within his mind; the calls of his name, and of their dragon. Her dying breaths, and then, finally, his cold, cruel laughter. He could almost picture her dead, slumped body, surrounded by a pool of blood lying at Voldemort’s feet. Her beauty unblemished by everything Voldemort had put her through.

“No!” Lucius screamed.

He heard the laughter from across the room and then everything went completely and utterly black.

-

-

-

Severus dwelled into Potter—no, Harry’s—thoughts and found the right string of thought; the dream—nightmare—that had just clouded the boy’s night. He grabbed onto it and was soon watching it. That Potter had allowed him this much was still a surprise to him, and then all thought was driven out of his mind. His eyes widened considerably, and he began to try and put everything together. Part of it had to be a dream—part of his imagination perhaps or his subconscious trying to figure out the other part of the ‘dream’—but other parts had happened, that very night in fact. Severus shuddered. Potter—Harry, his son—had dreamed his and Lucius’ entire conversation earlier that night.

Severus pulled back and let go of the sixteen year old’s head, crossing the room to the hearth. With a wave of his hand the fire came to life. He reached for a flower pot atop the mantle and drabbed flood powder from within it, throwing it into the fire. Without turning to Harry, he put his head in the fire and shouted, “Dumbledore’s office.”

Albus Dumbledore, as Severus had expected, was in his office, wearing a nightgown in a shocking purple, but still in his office.

“Severus,” He said when he saw him, stuffing a few pieces of parchment within a drawer that Severus noted almost at once, had some sort of protective shield around it.

Ignoring this for later consideration, Severus spoke quickly, “Headmaster, I’d appreciate you stepped through in a few minutes. There is much to be discussed.”

When Severus returned to Potter’s room, he found him sitting up at the side of his bed, eyes closed, gripping tightly to something that Severus couldn’t see. It was best, he decided, to let him be. He walked across the room, to the window. He still couldn’t wrap his mind completely about it. Harry Potter—no, Snape, Severus rolled his eyes at himself—had seen as clear as it had happened, a conversation between himself and Lucius Malfoy earlier that night, and even though it had been mixed within a dream from parts of it that he knew could never be remotely close to the truth, there had been the end which he didn’t know if he could doubt or not. The Dark Lord being there in his dream, and Lucius’ screams. It had been accurate enough, and it wasn’t like Potter—Harry! He really had to get a hang of the name thing—didn’t have a connection with the Dark Lord.

Severus turned when he heard Dumbledore step into the room.

“You sounded urgent, Severus, what’s happened?” Dumbledore asked at once, before he spotted Harry.

Severus followed his gaze to where Harry was sitting. His head was resting against his knees now, as he had pulled his legs up against his chest, while his eyes remained closed, but his lips were moving, whispering something that Severus could not quite hear and then Harry let out a scream.

Dumbledore rushed to the sixteen year old’s side, asking all the while, “What happened, Severus?”

“I arrived from the meeting just a few minutes ago. He was having a nightmare. I came in around when he woke up. I then proceeded to view the dream through legilimency—”

“You used legilimency on him?” Dumbledore looked aghast, almost murderous at Severus, as if Severus had committed a heinous crime, which Severus though ironic, considering the number of things he did as a spy. He shook his head at the thoughts. He needed to focus.

“With his permission,” Severus continued. “His dream, it was more of a vision. I was asked to stay behind by Lucius, he wanted to talk to me. Po—Harry saw the entire even just as it happened, I believe. Part of it could be a dream, but I do think the Dark Lord was there near the end, or at least he allowed Harry to know he had seen the dream near the end.”

Dumbledore turned back to looking at Harry and reached to him. He grasped Harry’s shoulder.

Harry opened his eyes and gasped. He looked disoriented and for a second it seemed as if he was getting ready to attack, and then he relaxed.

Severus watched this with a blank expression, wondering—not for the first time—exactly how much he didn’t know about one Harry Po—Snape, he wasn’t a Potter, he was a Snape and it was time he accept it. Harry was his son! He wasn’t Potter’s son.

“Professor Dumbledore!” Harry explained suddenly.

Severus watched as Dumbledore allowed Harry to calm down and then spoke in a low tone to him. Harry nodded, and laid back down into bed.

“A calming draught, and maybe dreamless sleep will help him now, Severus, in the meanwhile, I do believe we could talk about the meeting tonight and what Lucius wanted with you.”

Harry settled back into his bed.

After Harry had drunk his potions, and he had fallen back asleep, Dumbledore took Severus by the elbow and pulled him out of the room.

“I can see that maybe you’ve begun to see him in a different light.”

Severus stopped and stared at the door leading to the boy’s room.

“You told me he wasn’t his father.” Severus stated. “Even without knowledge of who his father truly was. It is true that he is not James. But he isn’t me. In the time I’ve had with him, I’ve begun to see the difference between the boy I’ve made myself see and the boy that actually is. That is all.”

Dumbledore was smiling.

“I cannot, however, be a father to him. I need to focus on this war. I never wanted a son and I don’t want one now. For the sake of the order, I took him in, but as much as I could maybe tolerate the boy, I will never care for him the way that maybe he needs someone to care about him. Lupin will be better in that front.”

Dumbledore gave him a somewhat disappointed look and then he walked farther down the hall, opening a door on the right hand side and entering without waiting for Severus.

Severus followed with a scowl. Dumbledore didn’t seriously expect him to become a father figure to Harry blood Potter—alright, Harry Snape. He couldn’t even imagine that. Harry calling him—he could shudder at the thought—father, or even worse, dad. Harry coming to him whenever he had a problem. He actually did shudder at that thought. How could Dumbledore ever think that he would be open to any sort of relationship with the boy he had thought was the son of his enemy; the boy he had hated for five years, or at least shown every amount of the notion of hate to. He hadn’t even looked into the memories Lily had sent him yet, for fear of what they would contain.

“What happened? Anything of importance?” Dumbledore broke into his thoughts.

“It was the usual stuff. He was quite angry at the lack of information, and seems to have some sort of plan. At least he seemed very happy at something. Maybe that’s a bad thing, but he has shared nothing with me.”

Dumbledore shifted in his chair, and Severus was not surprised to see Dumbledore bring out a familiar bag. “Lemon drop?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, thank you, Headmaster,” Severus said, choosing to instead watch Dumbledore pull two lemon drops apart that had been stuck together, before popping them both into his mouth, with the zeal of a five year old.

“I have said it, time and time again, headmaster,” Severus announced a few seconds later, when he was sure that Dumbledore was no longer distracted by the sweets. “Lucius as much as he has helped the order, is not fit to be a spy. He cares too much for his son, and from what I saw he could very well be in Azkaban right now.

“I have no idea if this is true, but I have been lucky enough by the fact that I need to keep my agenda hidden from everyone.”

Dumbledore pursed his lips. “Severus, my boy, Lucius is a good man. You know this.”

“Yes, but he is still not fit to be a spy.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Says the spy,” he said. “Severus, he doubts you as much as you doubt him. Maybe it is time to put differences aside. Lucius had nothing to do with her death.”

“He knew about his plans to attack them and he didn’t warn me, he didn’t warn them!” Severus snapped.

Dumbledore sighed. “You love her still, then?”

Severus laughed a humorless laugh. “Every day I see her. In everything I do,”—he allowed himself a falter in his usually blank expression—“in him,” he whispered.

Dumbledore smiled to himself, sadly.

Severus took his wand out and waved it at the floor.

Dumbledore nodded. “I’m sorry my boy,” he muttered.

-

-

-

Harry woke up to smell of bacon. He smiled into his soft pillow and slowly opened his eyes with a yawn. Everything that had happened the night before suddenly hit him like a bolt of lightning and he sat up. Not even the bright light that drifted into the room could make him grin; the day before it had been raining and he hadn’t been able to go out and practice certain quidditch maneuvers he had found in a book in Snape’s—his father’s—library. But he was sure he would have time that afternoon to do so, even though the dream of the night before would be haunting him the entire day as those things often did.

He stretched and quickly threw on some fresh clothes, slipping his feet into his trainers as he left his room to get himself some of the bacon he had smelt upon first waking.

The sight that met him in the kitchen was not unusual. Snape was standing by the stove, cooking, but the strange serene expression on his face was somewhat unusual.

“Good morning, sir,” Harry said, picking up a piece of warm toast and biting into it.

“Harry,” the potions master said in way of a morning greeting which was more than Uncle Vernon had ever done.

Harry nearly dropped his toast at the realization that Snape had not only said his first name, but that two he had said without a snide remark following or preceding it and in a tone that did not give away any frustration with Harry that he might have.

Harry said nothing to show he had even heard him and continued onto the kitchen table, were he proceeded to pile as much food as he could onto his plate. It wasn’t like Snape minded and to be truthful, at times Harry felt as if Snape were trying to fatten him up, which he knew was a big possibility considering the nutrition potions the man kept making him drink. Disgusting, vile things they were too. He’d asked once if he could maybe make them taste better but his only answer had been a grunt.

During breakfast, things got somewhat stranger. Conversation was rarely something anyone would hear if they happened to stop by for breakfast at the Snape house hold, but Snape seemed to be in a good mood.

“Have you begun on your summer assignments?” Snape asked.

“Not yet, sir. I though I might begin in a day or two,” Harry answered.

Snape nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else but a tap on the window interrupted him, and he set down his napkin and fork to open the window.

Two owls flew into the small kitchen. One directed to Harry, and the other for Snape. Harry recognized Pig at once and groaned.

He had yet to send a letter to either of his friends, and had been putting it off for a while. Clearly they had gone to 12 Grimmauld Place to find him gone.

Harry took the letter, and gave Pig a piece of bacon to eat as a treat, and then he opened the clean unaddressed envelope. He recognized Hermione’s neat handwriting on the parchment inside.

Dear Harry,

Mrs. Weasley says we can’t really write much in here just in case. No one told us where you’ve been taken, but its part of your studies? Well, our old pal Moony said that. Ron was beside himself when he found out you weren’t staying with Snuffles’ dear old mom anymore. But as long as you are alright, and you’re well protected I guess we’re fine with it. Ron would love to know if this has anything to do with what happened to the Dursleys. I know you didn’t like them much, but they were your family and I guess you must have been somewhat upset about their death. Just don’t do anything stupid, Harry! Tom will pay for what he has done to them.

Hoping you’re okay, where ever you are,

Hermione

Harry sighed. At least she hadn’t pelted him with questions. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to see her. Not when it was somewhat possible that she would bother him until he accidentally let something important out. He knew she had restrained herself somewhat in her letter but in real person he didn’t know how he would be able to handle Hermione.

He looked up after he was finished reading her letter and folded it. He set it down next to his plate and proceeded to continue eating. Not even Hermione could put him off eating the amazing breakfast sitting in front of him.

Snape perused the Daily Prophet with a frown, and Harry waited for him to start talking about it. It was almost ritual like, the way the potions master would cut down the wizarding paper, be it for their miscomprehension of an event, the outright lies that had obviously been put out there by the new minister whom Harry was slightly surprised had yet to contact him, which was in itself a relief.

“Blundering idiots!” Snape let out a moment later as expected. “Of course it is alright to take credit for Lucius bloody Malfoy being found within Azkaban earlier this morning.”

Harry stopped with his spoon midway to his mouth. “He’s in Azkaban,” He whispered once he had shaken himself.

“Well of course he is, boy, where else would that buffoon be?”

Harry didn’t answer.

Snape rolled his eyes unceremoniously. “They don’t seem to find it suspicious at all that he was, again I repeat, found in Azkaban. Of course the ministry is attempting to cover up how or why Lucius is back, but to take credit for it.”

Harry was tempted to point out that allowing people to believe the ministry was in charge was the best way to do things. Especially with everything that was going on. It had become far different than that of the previous summer, when Voldemort had been hiding and using that as a weapon to hurt Harry. This summer he was out there, displaying his power for the world to see, making more people grow to fear him all the while destroying everything in his path that could give anyone hope.

They finished their breakfast in silence. When Harry stood and took the dishes to the sink to wash them as was usual for him the morning, however, Snape brought out his wand and muttered a spell that began washing them.

"Thank you," Harry said.

Snape barely nodded his way and then strode out of the room.

Harry remained in the kitchen for a while longer and then when he had heard his father's footsteps recede; he walked out of the house. He didn't bother heading to the broom shed and instead simply walked around the grounds, wondering just what he had done to deserve the messed up life he had.

August 15, 1996

"Again, Harry," Severus said, though his voice sounded weary, as if he didn't in particular want to continue.

Harry seemed to notice this at once, but Severus was glad the sixteen year old was smart enough to figure out that Severus did not need or want him mentioning how tired he looked. He knew he was tired, of course he did. He'd been the one to stay up all night brewing.

"Ready?" Severus asked.

Harry gave a sharp nod.

"Legilimens!" He shouted.

He was within his son's mind in a matter of minutes, but before he could plunge further, something snapped at him and he was pushed back. And then, he was staring at a brick wall. The corners of his lips lifted up, slightly, showing his pleasure, before he fought harder against the wall, looking for a weak spot. It took him at least a full minute before he found it, and then he was pushing against it, trying to break through, but suddenly he was pushed back, and then he was no longer even in Harry's mind.

Severus closed his eyes for a few seconds, and upon opening them found Harry grinning at him, tiredly. They were both in need of some rest—but not yet.

"We cannot stop yet. We're here now, we're gone this far. It's important to continue. But I do believe some chocolate is in order."

Harry laughed.

"What?"

"You sound like Remus, chocolate is a medicine for everything in his book."

Severus rolled his eyes but said, "Chocolate has certain properties that are very helpful in certain situations."

Severus turned away, then, shaking his head. Chocolate gave off endorphins that gave people the feeling of being in love, but it also helped keep people awake and aware of their surroundings. He walked around his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a long bar of chocolate. No one would ever guess how much of a sweet tooth he had. He closed his drawer and walked back to Harry. He split the chocolate in half, before unwrapping his piece and biting into it.

They ate their chocolate in silence and then once more faced each other in Severus' study.

"Alright," Severus said. "This time I want you to try and lead me into your mind. Don't worry about attacking me, just slowly push back your wall so that it is protecting a memory, any will do. I will be trying to get at it. You need to lead me away from it, show me other things that you want me to see."

Harry nodded. "Alright," he said.

Severus gave a nod in return, and then whispered, "Legilimens."

He was again in Harry's mind. He pushed a little harder and found himself suddenly looking at flashes of a conversation involving Harry and Hermione Granger.

"Stop it, Harry," Granger laughed, hitting Harry lightly on the arm.

"What? It's completely true. Ron fancies you," Harry teased his friend.

The memory changed suddenly and Fred and George Weasley were looking at Harry incredulously. He was pushing something towards the twins and nodding.

"Just buy Ron some new dress robes with part of it."

The memory changed again. Harry was younger now and sitting on a stool in front of the great hall, staring into the inside of the sorting hat. The hat was talking.

Severus listened, interested. During his sorting, the hat had threatened—told him, really—he would do well in Gryffindor. The second choice had been Slytherin , though the hat had argued he could have also been great in Ravenclaw before stating, "Your cunning, however, might mean you’ll do well in Slytherin—far too well."

"Hmm," said the Hat to Harry. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh, my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting….So where shall I put you?"

Severus heard Harry whisper, or rather think, 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.'

The hat replied, "Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—no? Well if you're sure—better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Severus was shocked and for a moment didn't fight Harry's will, and then he caught a glimpse of a wall.

Severus pulled back a minute later, and then he was staring at Harry standing in front of him.

"It would have been interesting, I think, back then, had you wound up in Slytherin."

Harry laughed lightly. "Did I do better this time?"

"At the beginning, but once I stopped fighting to find the missing information and just remained watching your sorting, the wall was visible. If I didn't find what I was looking for and you kept it up longer I would have almost been convinced that you had just let me within your mind. We'll have to work on that and a few other things."

Harry nodded with a yawn.

"Sleep is in order, now, I think," Severus said.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Good-night."

Severus watched Harry leave and quickly straightened up the room before he too headed to his bedroom, through a different door, hidden behind a bookshelf that he waved his wand at. As he walked into his room, he couldn't help but ponder how the last week had changed some of his views on Harry. He could now even think of the boy as Harry without forcing himself to, and he had begun to even see a different side to him.

They hadn't spent more time than the usual at mealtimes and when working on Harry's occlumency, and sometimes in his small library where Harry would sit to read while he worked on his own reading or potions journals. Maybe, he decided, it had to do with the more time they had been living together and getting comfortable with each other.

Settling into bed for the night, after not having slept the night before, Severus found to be amazingly relaxing, before he saw a glinting potion phial on the table in the opposite side of the room, sitting between a number of other potion phials, filled with his memories from 1980. He wouldn't be able to run away from them. He needed to put his memories back and soon. His last thought before falling asleep was that those memories better not have any more surprises.

-

-

-

Harry fell asleep almost at once, but woke a couple of hours later, his scar throbbing. He rubbed at it first and then, just as he had earlier that night, he put his brick wall up within his mind. The pain disappeared a moment later, and he was back asleep.

Harry didn't remember the occurrence of his scar hurting in the middle of the night until he had dressed after a quick shower, and walked into an empty kitchen.

Usually Snape was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, or waiting for a house-elf to serve breakfast from Hogwarts, but rarely had Harry woken up before Snape. The man had been tired the night before, sure, but Harry had come to realize that Severus Snape never slept past seven. With a shrug of his shoulders he began pulling out ingredients for pancakes.

Harry had just managed to finish mixing everything together and pulled out a skillet, when he heard the fire come to life in the drawing room, followed by a muttered curse and then a groan before the sound of a loud crash. Harry ran out to the other room.

Snape was lying on the ground breathing erratically. Blood covered the floor.

He wasn't unconscious, this was the first thing Harry noticed. The second thing was that he was gripping an uncorked potion phial.

Harry rushed to his father's side and grabbed the potion from his hand.

"What is this? What can I do?" He asked.

"Potion…get Albus," The potions master croaked.

Harry nodded, lifted the potion to Snape's lips and helped him down it before he quickly turned to the fire and grabbed floo powder.

The headmaster was in the middle of a conversation with Fawkes when Harry's head popped into the fire.

"Headmaster, Professor Snape, he's hurt," Harry said. "He told me to call you."

Dumbledore moved quickly and shot his patronus out at the window. "I'll be there in a moment, Harry," He said.

Harry nodded and pulled his head back. Snape was still on the ground and Harry rushed to his side. He slowly helped him sit up. Snape attempted to stand up. Harry helped him and allowed the older man to lean on him. Harry led him to the sofa and helped him sit down.

"Thank you, Harry," Snape muttered.

"Do you need anything else?" Harry asked.

Snape seemed to consider this. "There is a potion," He said at last. "It will help. It is in my bedroom. It's clear and will be found on my bedside table."

Harry nodded. He quickly ran up the stairs towards Snape's room. He found the potio at once and grabbed it, not stopping to look around the unfamiliar room, but instead rushing to give Snape the potion. When he returned Dumbledore had entered the room and seemed to be glaring at Snape, at times turning to look at the fireplace as if willing someone to enter the room through it.

"I gave nothing away, Albus," Snape said.

Dumbledore said nothing, his eyes falling on Harry.

Harry handed Snape the potion.

"Thank you," Snape said, with a quirk of his lips before turning to Dumbledore. "I gave away nothing, Albus, I shall repeat that. He was angry I did not go directly to him after talking to Lucius and he questioned me on the whereabouts of Harry. You could say that was the least he was worried about. He's more worried about the fact that Lucius was betraying him and the Dark Lord is very fond of revenge." He looked around darkly at this thought and Harry felt as if Snape was thinking of a different event.

Remus Lupin stepped into the room at that moment, looking around in a worried manner. He spotted Snape on the sofa and rushed forward.

Harry was startled at Remus' still worried expression, and he became even more surprised when Snape allowed the lycanthrope to wave his wand at him.

"He can barely remain awake, he is in pain, and still he sits here talking to you," Remus said with a snort.

Snape rolled his eyes at the other man but said nothing as Remus proceeded to pull at Snape's cloak, muttering "accio" under his breath so that a bag flew to his hands from a room in the second floor.

Harry watched in silence as Remus fixed up Snape while Dumbledore looked out the window seeming to wait patiently.

"He's planning something," Snape said at last. "I am not sure what it is, but I do believe, Albus that you remain the constant messing up his plans. I think maybe he might wish to kill you far more than Harry."

Dumbledore seemed to find this amusing, it was as if the very topic of his death was a strangely amusing topic. Harry didn't comprehend this, or the bitter look that had crossed Snape.

After Remus had finished fixing up a Snape that admittedly looked far better than he had minutes ealier, Harry noticed that some sort of dark cloud had fallen upon them.

"He called me in the middle of the night. He wanted nothing more than to ask me about Lucius, the whereabouts of Harry, and oddly enough, how well I knew Draco Malfoy. He punished me for Lucius. I managed to apparate to the floo and get here, luckily Harry was awake."

Harry had grown very curious about the elder Malfoy after his dream the week previous but had yet to be sure on Lucius Malfoy's true intentions. Was he really against Voldemort? Or was that a trick?

"Is Lucius a spy for the order?" Harry asked.

No one answered him. Dumbledore looked almost as if he wanted to tell Harry it wasn't his business. Remus looked to be as interested as Harry was in the entire matter. And Snape held his usual blank expression.

Snape was the one to answer. "Yes," He stated, hiding a grimace. "Lucius has always been more concerned with his own affairs. His switch to the order was more for personal reasons, change in certain beliefs. He has helped the order, however, and, to be fair, he has not betrayed the order, even if few know of his work for us."

-

-

-

August 17, 1996

"Harry!"

Harry stopped on his way to his room and walked to the slightly open door to Snape's study.

Snape was sitting behind his desk, staring at a penseive filled to the rim with memories. Harry spotted the box that had arrived for Snape on the desk next to it, filled with empty potions flasks.

"Just wanted to inform you to get your things together for tomorrow. We shall be returning to Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon."

Harry couldn't help but grin.

"I do believe, we will have much to do, Harry," Snape added, glancing once at the penseive. "You have yet to start on your summer work, from what I gathered, and"—he looked distastefully at Harry's clothing—"we must do some shopping. I also will be in need of your help preparing my lessons."

"Me? Help with potions work? I'm terrible at the subject."

Snape said nothing to that. Instead he gave the penseive a look that could only be described as a glare and then spoke to Harry again, "Time it seems has passed us rather quickly. Already the school year is upon us and there is still much to be done." Snape then waved his hand at him in clear dismissal.

Harry turned and made his way out of the room. He stopped at the door. "Thank you, sir, for everything. I think maybe we will never be father and son in the traditional way, but you've been a great professor."

Harry did not see Snape's frown at those words before he once more glared at the memories within the penseive.

-

-

-

August 18, 1997

Harry stepped out of the fire with a flourish. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and a number of books stacked up in his arms. He looked around the room. It was unfamiliar, with numerous bookshelves covering the walls. In fact, not one wall could be seen. Other than the books there were two comfortable looking chairs, one near the fire, and the other sitting by a writing table that sat directly across one of the oak doors in the room. A sofa sat next to the chair by the fire, and a coffee table sat in front of it, almost at the hearth.

Harry set his books on this table and dropped his bag next to it. Then he waited. Snape was supposed to come through any moment with Harry's trunk and a few more things. Harry had been set with the task of bringing Snape's things.

The fire did not turn green for another half hour, and then a very irritated Snape entered the room. Harry knew better than to inquire after what had delayed him, so he let the matter go.

"Dumbledore has informed me you will remain with me until classes begin in September. He had expanded my rooms somewhat and your room should be through"—he looked around—"that door."

Harry stood up. "Sir, could you levitate my trunk to my room?"

Snape gave him a look. "You can use magic here."

Harry nodded silently.

Snape had been acting odd all morning he hadn't once addressed him by his name and at strange times, seemed to just stare at him as if he was off in some unknown memory. Other times Snape had the most peculiar exoressions—mixtures of what Harry could only call disappointment and anger.

Harry reached into his robes pocket and pulled out his wand. He could feel his magic running through it and he dasped slightly at the recognizable feeling that had only happened once before—when he had picked up his wand for the first time. Sparks escaped the wand into the air, gave a small whistle and then disappeared.

Harry shrugged at his wand and attempted a levitating charm, but failed to lift his trunk even an inch. He tried again, but nothing happened. He waved his wand for the third time at he unmoving trunk, using a different spell this time, but once more his trunk did not go up into the air.

Harry was now frowning. He couldn't believe it. His magic just didn't seem to want to work for him. He tried a different spell. Nothing. He tried another. Once again nothing happened.

Harry opened his mouth to say another spell but did not get past the first syllable before he felt Snape's hand come to rest on his shoulder. Harry turned to look at his father.

"My—my magic," Harry whispered.

Snape said nothing. Harry doubted the potions master could have comforted him. Snape on the other hand quickly let go of his shoulder and moved, extracting his own wand out of his pocket. He swished it towards the trunk and hovered it to Harry's room.

"Come," Snape said once he had put Harry's trunk in his room.

Harry looked up. "Where?"

"The infirmary. I do believe Madame Pomfrey must have a say about this."

Harry nodded. There was nothing he could do. His magic was failing him. He'd relief on it for the past five years and now it wasn't working for him. He allowed Snape to lead him down an unfamiliar corridor, he let him continue pulling him along past his classroom and then past the great hall.

Poppy Pomfrey was cleaning, when Harry and Snape walked in.

"Severus!" The nurse exclaimed, in Harry;s opinion the woman was too happy to see the snarky potions master.

"Poppy, I need you to check Mr. Potter over."

The matron frowned. "But nothing looks to be the matter, Severus, the boy is fine."

Snape said something to her that made no sense to Harry but seemed to have given Madame Pomfrey a minute later she was leading him away from his father.

It was strange, Harry decided after he had been told to sit down on a rather comfortable plush arm chair, to be in the hospital wing without having a physical injury.

Madame Pomfrey waved her wand at him and muttered to herself. She then walked across the room, went into her office and didn't come back for another ten minutes carrying a heavy looking book. She didn't even glance at Harry and instead walked towards Snape and handed him the book. He didn't say anything but instead bent his head to read it. Harry was pretty curious as to what the two of them could be reading about, but didn't dare ask them to tell him. Instead he waited as patiently as he allowed himself to for them to finish their reading.

"Very strange," Madame Pomfrey said.

"Indeed. I've never heard of this happening, but then we are talking about the boy-who-lived. Who knows what could be possible with him. Are you sure?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded and mumbled something to herself that Harry didn't hear. She continued talking to herself for quite a while and then looked up at Snape. "I should inform the headmaster about this," She said.

Snape nodded. "Is there anything that can be done?"

The nurse shook her head. "Unless the headmaster is aware of something I am not, this is just something that he will have to wait out."

Snape seemed reluctant to accept this, but he nodded at her nonetheless. Madame Pomfrey gave him an odd look as she walked back into her office. Harry doubted Snape had noticed it, but Harry had seen it. Now they were both acting odd.

"What-what happened to my magic?" Harry asked once the nurse had left.

Snape looked at him and sighed. "It appears that your magic is expanding," he said. "However, it is not in the usual way."

Harry who hadn't even been aware of the fact that magic could expand looked at him questioningly and opened his mouth to ask about what that meant, but the nurse had re-entered the room and walking behind her was the headmaster.

"I hear you've been having some problems with your magic," Dumbledore said. "I believe I have the answer that the two of you have been looking for," He added, motioning to the nurse and potions master who looked at him with interest.

August 17, 1996

Severus glared at the offending basin and its whirling blue liquid. He rolled his eyes at himself. He was being stupid. He knew he was. And it was just as well. He sighed. They would change nothing of his perspective. They were just memories—his memories. He wasn't a coward, he knew this, and a bunch of memories would not harm him in the least. He moved his hand cautiously and traced the strange markings on the edge of the basin, and then with a small amount of trepidation leaned forward and fell into the memories within.

-

Severus opened the wooden door and quickly closed it behind him, though a few flakes of snow still managed to make it into the small kitchen. He quickly brushed a few snow flakes off his shoulders and shook his hair at the hearth, before bringing out his wand and cleaning up his mess. After this he took off his heavy winter cloak and scarf and draped them over a chair, before he walked through a door across from the one he had just entered through.

Two people sat in the next room. The woman in the closest chair to the fire with a book propped up in her lap; the man staring at her from a writing table where he seemed to be constructing a letter.

"Severus!" Lily jumped up with a grin, and rushed to his side. "I didn't think you would come."

Severus just raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her emerald eyes at him and reached for her hand. He allowed her to pull him out of the room. As he passed the other occupant he gave him a nod and continued on following her.

Lily led him up the stairs and into the closest room to the stairs.

"We just finished it yesterday," She announced with a smile.

Severus looked around the room and nodded. He walked farther into it, looking down at the small crib sitting by the wall.

"Perfect for it," Severus said.

Lily grinned. "I know it's strange," she said a second later, "to be planning this so ahead of time, but James really is excited and I think he may just be okay with you as his father."

"He?" Severus asked.

"James thinks I'm being silly but I just have this feeling. I just know it will be a boy."

Severus found himself smiling gently. Only Lily could achieve to put a true smile on his face.

-

Severus Snape moved his rook and smirked at James Potter. James groaned, but stared at the chess game spread out in front of him, seemingly to take in every piece, and then he sent his cousin his own smirk.

"I've got you now, Snape," James said and reached forward. He moved a piece.

Severus did not look as if he had just been bested, instead an amused look played across his face and without a second thought moved his queen.

"Playing that dratted game are you, now?" Lily entered the room, and even though she seemed disgusted by the chess game, a soft smile was on her lips.

Severus looked up at Lily and gave the red head a saint smile.

James didn't seem to have noticed the appearance of his very pregnant wife, but instead was frowning over the chess board. Lily smiled at him fondly.

"If you could leave that game for just a few minutes, I would appreciate help," Lily said, her eyes never leaving James' figure.

-

He was a small pink think wrapped up in a green blanket. That was Severus' first impression of his son. But despite the strange look to him, Severus couldn't hide from himself that he at least cared for the boy—his son.

"Isn't he beautiful?" James came up behind him.

Severus turned to look at the man that he had learned to hate at a young age. James was almost in tears as he looked at the boy that wasn't even his son.

"Thank you," James said.

Severus had nothing to respond to that. He couldn't very well say, "you're welcome." As he searched for a reply, however, James had moved towards the baby lying in a small basinet.

"Come here," James called in a whisper after a pregnant pause, motioning to Severus with his hand.

Severus hesitated for a moment, but then he stepped forward and joined James at standing in front of his son.

"What is his name?" Severus asked.

"Harry," James whispered. "Lily picked it out. Harry Severus Snape."

Severus shook his head. "Harry James Potter."

James gave him a dubious look, but said nothing, instead gently he reached towards Harry and brushed his hand against the soft rosy cheek of the boy he would always consider his son, and then he pulled back.

"He's yours," James said, walking away. "He always will be."

Severus found he could say nothing to this.

-

Severus pushed the hair out of his face as he stepped out of the fire. He quietly moved across the room careful not to wake up the red haired woman o the couch with an open book lying on her stomach, her hand carefully sitting atop it. He walked to the kitchen but found no one, so he continued back to the other room and then walked up the stairs. He heard giggles. A small smile crept into his face and he walked to the nearest room.

James was sitting on the floor with Harry on his lap, while bubbles floated around them and Harry was trying to grab them.

"Having fun?" Severus asked.

James grinned. Harry looked up, wide eyed at Severus. Severus rolled his eyes at the boy and watched him get interested in a bubble that came close to his nose, nearly brushing it. Harry let out a huge squeal and joyous giggles.

"I've been waiting for you," James said. "It didn't feel right, waking up Lily, but I do have to leave soon."

Severus nodded. James slowly stood up, holding Harry to him, and then walked towards Severus. "They're sending us out to a relatively normal patrol tonight. I should be back within two or three hours."

"Alright," Severus said and reached for Harry. James dropped a kiss on Harry's head and handed him to Severus, and then with a nod to Severus walked out of the room.

Severus gave Harry a small smile and then sighed. "Are we going to have fun tonight, Harry?"

Harry cocked his head to the side and reached forward with his small hand. Severus pulled his head back. "No, Harry, not my nose."

Harry giggled as if he understood and did not try to reach the potions master's nose again, but he pulled at his hair. Severus merely pried it off his fingers, and sent a spiral of Harry's favorite bubbles his way. Harry followed them with his glinting eyes and Severus simply smiled. It was wonderful to see his eyes light up at the smallest of things, when out in the world it was chaos that ruled everything.

-

His eyes were closed as he pressed his forehead against the cool pane of glass that made up the only window in the small nursery, looking out into a cobbled street, watching a couple strolling peacefully with a small dog that didn’t really seem to require the walk as it was attempting to lie down on the street and rest. His black eyes followed the two innocent muggles as the woman picked up the small dog and cuddled him in her arms, receiving happy buoyant licking from the canine.

Severus moved away from the window, letting the curtains fall into place. He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand and then crossed the room to the wooden crib from which a baby looked towards him with interest.

“Harry,” Severus said with fondness and reached to pick of the miniscule body, cradling him in his arms. “Oh, look at you, you wonderful boy.”

Baby Harry gurgled happily, one of his arms reaching clumsily upwards as if attempting to grab something from the air.

“Silly child, I’m not James,” Severus told him as if Harry could understand perfectly well what he was saying.

Harry looked up at Severus perplexed.

“You know I love you, Harry,” Severus told his son. “Even though you do not understand me, I wish you could somehow always know that I’ll love you, but maybe that is what will make this better—your lack of knowledge. So I will talk freely, even though I am quite aware of what will happen in two days. I will have lost you from my memory.

“I can only hope that when, if, there is a moment in time when we know who and what we are to each other that then we will not lose our heads and that we can try to get this back, because at this moment I don’t know if I could live without you in my life. You are my son, even if James will be your father in that perfect way that will make it so much harder for you to allow me into your life. I’m surprised at myself, really, at this attachment, because this was always the plan. You were supposed to be his not mine, maybe it’s just you are so easy to love…”

Severus dropped a kiss on Harry’s head. “Merlin, this is harder than I imagined.”

Harry looked at him with his big green eyes as if he knew what would happen.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Severus told him. “Years from now I’ll probably hate you and I won’t even remember you trusting me so much, and you’ll probably hate me too.”

Harry moved slightly in his arms and Severus smiled at him crookedly before walking to Lily’s chair and sitting down, holding Harry close. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to forget you,” he told his son.

-

Severus held Harry in his arms. The boy was calmly staring at the wall as if he knew what was going to happen. Severus smiled fondly at him and ran a hand through the boy's thin black hair.

They just had to wait for James now, and then everything would be done. The Potters would go into hiding and he wouldn't see them until the war was over, and then he wouldn't even remember them. He wouldn't know that their "son" was actually his. He wouldn't know that James and he had begun to have a slightly better relationship. In fact, he would know nothing at all that would make a difference even if the Dark Lord were destroyed the next day.

The door opened with a creak and Severus looked up.

Lily was in tears, and James seemed to be smiling grimly with his arm around her shoulders. They both looked reluctant to do it.

"If I let even one little thing slip, he will know," Severus said. "It will make things worse for Harry, then. This is something we must do."

It had been his idea. He'd been the one to decide their course of action, and they would do it the way he wanted it to be done. He would be the only one losing anything out of all of this. They wouldn't be hurt by this, and more importantly Harry would not get involved with the Dark Lord and everything else going on, out in the world.

Lily nodded. "I know," she whispered.

"Potter," Severus said. "Let's get it over with, shall we."

He stood up and gave Harry a bounce. The boy smiled but did not giggle as was his usual reaction.

Lily sobbed and walked forward. Severus handed her Harry. Severus moved towards James and watched his cousin bring out his wand. James muttered a spell

-

Severus pulled himself out of the penseive. He sat back in his chair and groaned slightly. The onslaught of emotions had been too much for him. For he who had pushed away all emotion for so long. He hadn't once imagined how much that little boy had made him feel. He had loved Harry. Loved him. And now it was an emotion that he couldn't even ponder, but now, looking back he couldn't stand how he had treated his son. He hated how much grief he had caused the green eyed boy.

It had been strange to witness those memories, to see himself hug and cuddle Harry Potter—Harry Snape—to see himself allow him so many things that he would never have allowed anyone else. He had told the baby so many things that granted he would never have understood anyway, but that he knew he would never have mentioned to anyone else.

Severus sighed. How different would his life had been had he been able to retain those memories? If the dark lord had killed Lily and James regardless he would have readily taken in Harry had he been aware of who the boy was. How would that have changed him? But still the question of whether he would have slipped haunted him. It would have ended up so much worse had that happened. He sighed. There was no changing the past. Nothing he did would bring them back or change the fact that he had asked James Potter to take his memories.

It was different to see the memories after so many years, not having felt what came with the image of the people involved before that very day, and having held an undying grudge against his cousin for the past twenty years, at least—in his mind.

He didn't know now how to even approach perhaps getting a somewhat better relationship with his son, if he even wanted to try that, but he knew he could at least try something for Lily, and—he grudgingly admitted, even though he had seen the different James in the memories—James. They wouldn't have wanted Harry to not know him, they obviously didn't, otherwise they wouldn't have gone through all the trouble. That was something else that bothered him, now. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know if he could look at Harry and not bring back all the memories to the forefront of his mind.

Severus took a deep breath. He needed to stop over thinking it. He needed to just accept that the boy that now was his son was not the same boy that he had hugged and held as a baby. He also needed to accept that Harry did not need him as his father. He had said so earlier that night, though not in so many words. Severus frowned. Did he want to be Harry's father?

Severus rolled his eyes at himself. He brought out his wand and waved his wand at his memories and brought them up to his temple, letting them all enter his brain at once. It took a few minutes for them to set themselves and then he sighed, getting up. He needed to stop over thinking everything.

-

-

-

August 18, 1996

Madame Pomfrey was muttering something from her office. It was loud enough that Harry could catch some of the words, but not loud enough for him to know what she was talking about. Snape was sitting in the other side of the room, reading, while Dumbledore sat next to Harry with some sort of pensive look on his face. Harry had been sitting in the plush armchair he had been led to when he entered the hospital wing hours earlier, and simply looked around himself, deep in thought.

It was odd to think that his magic was just growing, and that the reason it had stopped working was more to do with Snape than with him. Apparently he had been completely and utterly charmed to look like James Potter, that even his magic had been altered and now, that was the beginning of his metamorphosis.

Harry sighed. That was why his wand had given out the strange sparks and whistle. Not only had it recognized his signature, but it had also denied it. That had been the part Snape didn't understand, that his wand hadn't wanted to work for him even though it had bonded—picked him—to begin with. Dumbledore, too, had not been completely sure about that part of it even with his extensive knowledge of wandlore. The entire point had been that his magic had only ever been in part, not that he hadn't been strong magically before, but, and this was the big thing, he'd had more power at his grasp but the spell his mother had put on him had hid that not only from him but everyone else around him.

Harry sighed.

Snape looked up at him.

Harry rolled his eyes at the man and turned back to simply staring at the wall opposite him. He was bored, and with Snape attempting to read an entire book so that he could figure out some way to help with the problem, and Dumbledore taking the entire thing as if it was just a walk in the park, and Madame Pomfrey worried out her wits about him, not to mention the fact that she wanted to know everything there was to know about his mother's charm on him.

"Do you wish to do something to entertain yourself, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry frowned at him, but nevertheless nodded.

Dumbledore seemed to almost be as excited about this as a child learning a new game as he brought out four strange objects from his cloak.

"Well," Dumbledore said. "I haven't played this game since I was, well, I can't even remember. I do think I know the rules, but if we have any trouble, I'm sure your father will help us out."

Snape who had been watching them snorted and hid behind his book, as if the book being between him and the headmaster would protect him from having to do anything if Dumbledore had forgotten the rules to his game.

-

-

-

It had taken the better part of two hours, but Snape had finished his reading at last, but he said nothing about the book. Instead as soon as he had closed it, he sat as still as possible in his chair before standing and leaving the room altogether. Harry who had been in the process of reading one of the magical cards that came from one of the objects Dumledore had brought out earlier had jumped at the sound of the door and his father's footsteps.

"I do believe he has some idea what might be going on," Dumbledore said with a shrug.

Harry found the headmasters entire attitude towards everything somewhat disturbing. He was too mellow!

"We will have to postpone our game, I think, Harry," Dumbledore said a moment later. "You look as if you want to rush after him. Curiosity is not always a good thing, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes, but nodded regardless.

Dumbledore waved his wand around and all his things went back into his cloak, before he stood up. "Shall we?" He asked.

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes but instead followed the headmaster out of the hospital wing.

Snape was in his classroom when they got down to the dungeons, but he was not brewing, instead he was moving papers around atop his desk and muttering to himself.

"It has to be here, I know it does," Snape said with a groan.

"What could you be looking for, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape said nothing in response but continued throwing papers about on his search for whatever it was that would be useful to him. Then suddenly he stopped as if a brilliant idea had come over him, and he was rushing past them towards his office.

"It must be here," He said again, and then after a few minutes of looking around on his desk he found what he had been looking at, he sat down and he began to read.

Harry and Dumbledore watched him from the door and waited for him to say something, but Snape didn't, because mere minutes after he had finished reading his overly important paper, Voldemort was calling him, and Harry felt his scar burn.

"Occlumency, boy!" Snape said to him, rushing past him.

Harry barely nodded, and then closed his eyes, pulling his thoughts within his mind, especially the recent development of his loss of magic, and then he pushed everything behind a tight wall. The pain was gone almost at once, and Harry opened his eyes to see his father in death eater robes rushing out the door. Dumbledore still standing next to him had a worried look on his face, Harry was surprised to see, but did not express any more concern than that.

"I'm afraid he took his precious new development with him," Dumbledore said.

Harry looked at the man and shook his head, and then said, "How can I get back into his rooms?"

"Yes, I imagine you'd like to be more comfortable. Your first day here has not exactly turned out to be the perfect day. Just through there," Dumbledore said, he showed Harry how to get back into Snape's quarters and then without further ado claimed to have a meeting with his phoenix and left.

-

-

-

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes at his mother. He'd just arrived home from the latest meeting, where thankfully Voldemort had been in a good mood, for he had not punished one of them. His mother of course, would hear none of it as she grabbed him by the shoulders and led him to the nearest chair.

"Oh, but, Draco," she cried, "there could be all number of things wrong with you."

Draco rolled his eyes at her, but allowed her to lead him away. He didn't care really, it was just that he had gotten his first assignment that night, as it were, and it was not one that he wanted or felt as if he could accomplish. He knew Voldemort was just hoping he would fail, it would be punishment for his father, for his so called treason. Draco groaned.

"What's wrong, what hurts, Draco?"

"Nothing," Draco muttered. He hated how annoying his mother had gotten lately. He blamed it on his father mostly. Most of it hadn't begun until he had wound up in Azkaban, but it had been there in the background.

"I have to kill Dumbledore," Draco muttered absentmindedly.

His mother stopped smoothing over Draco's hair and looked at him with wide eyes. "What?" She asked, then, "No. No. He can't ask you to do that. You're just a boy. You can't be expected to kill someone like Dumbledore…unless…" And realization dawned on her. "He expects you to fail, to hurt that fool of a father of yours." She groaned. "Oh, my baby!" She cried and threw her arms around him.

Draco struggled to get out of her hold, but finally relented when he felt her crying against him.

"It's alright, mum," Draco said gently and patted her almost awkwardly on the arm.

His mother cried harder. "I hate your father," she said after a moment. "He's gotten us into this mess and now he's not even here to get us out of it."

"I can do this, mother," Draco said. "I can fix this."

"You think he won't kill you, that he won't punish you when you fail?" His mother said, then, "I'm glad at least you aren't happy with this."

Draco barely gave her a nod.

"Severus!" She said suddenly. "Yes." And then she was standing and she was muttering to herself as she walked away from him.

Draco frowned. He didn't want his mother getting far too involved with the entire thing, but he wanted a way out, but that didn't mean he wanted help from Severus Snape. From what he had seen so far the man was on Voldemort's side. It was his fault his father was in prison and his fault that Draco now had the task to begin with.

Draco stood up and with a frown walked to his room. First, he needed sleep. There were only two weeks left of summer and he was going to enjoy them, especially with what he had to do once the year began.

August 19, 1996

Dear Harry,

Haven't heard much from you lately, Harry, Ron says it's because you're busy doing some sort of training. I dunno, but Dumbledore hasn't said anything at any order meetings, granted mum doesn't really like us being there. Anyhow, Fred and I were wondering if you'd like to come by the shop, show you our new merchandise. You have to do your shopping anyways, for school. I'm so glad to not have to go back this year. Mom was actually threatening to make us go back, but after she saw how much money we're making I think she's convinced that it wouldn't make a difference. Ron says he's going to Diagon Alley with Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Tonks, and Lupin the day after tomorrow, so if you could come then that'd be great. Can't say much more here, but I must say I'm very curious as to what you are up to currently.

Love,

Your favorite Weasley twin, and Weasley period (George)

Harry read the letter with a small grin that he knew only one of the twins could put on his face, especially in light of everything that had happened to him in the past few days. He still couldn't understand how his magic could have just disappeared, even if he had been assured that it was only a temporary thing. Harry reached for his piece of toast and bit into it. Across from him, his father read the Daily Prophet with his usual frown.

"Anything interesting in there?" Harry asked.

Snape gave a snort. "No," He said.

Harry nodded. He hadn't expected anything, really.

"Fred and George want me to stop by their shop in two days. I do need to get my new books and I need new robes. Could we go then, my friends will be there as will Tonks and Lupin, as their protection, I assume."

Snape nodded. "Yes. Lupin informed me of this last night. I shall of course be there, but for the sake of keeping out secret I will be there on the orders of the headmaster. Your friends will just have to deal with it."

Harry laughed. He could already picture Ron's face when he saw Harry with their feared potions master. "Alright, then," He said and continued with his breakfast.

"How are your summer assignments coming along?" Snape asked a moment later as he folded his paper closed.

Harry shrugged. Truth be told he had only worked on his History of Magic essay which he hadn't exactly finished. The transfiguration had confused him, and the potions he hadn't even bothered to look at seeing as he knew that he wouldn't understand it, or be able to do it for that matter. He was terrible at potions.

"That tells me you haven't worked on any of it," Snape said. "Maybe I can offer some help."

If Harry was surprised he did not show it, but he nodded readily. Maybe Snape could make his own assignment make sense to him, as well as the transfiguration, and who knew, maybe he knew his history of magic.

"Bring it into my lab," Snape said after they had finished their breakfast. "I'll be working on quite a number of potions in there."

Harry nodded and walked back to the room Dumbledore had put in Snape's quarters for him. It was the same size as the room he had used in Snape's house. The walls were made up of blue colors as was his bedspread.

Harry walked to his trunk and opened it. He hadn't really unpacked but knew that he would have to at least to find his books for his homework. After throwing a few things on his bed he brought out his history of magic book, followed by his transfiguration, and lastly his potions text.

When he entered Snape's lab he found the potions professor gathering ingredients next to a black cauldron.

"Sit anywhere," Snape told him. "I forgot to ask," He added a second later. "Has there been any change in your magic?"

"How would I be able to tell?"

"Have you tried your wand?"

Harry shook his head, but reached into his jeans pocket where he usually kept his wand. He waved it at his book but nothing happened. He tried to light his wand, but again—nothing.

He sighed.

"It will come back to you eventually, Harry," Snape said.

Harry nodded. He was nothing without his magic. He needed it—desperately. "What are you working on," He asked instead of bringing up anything else concerning his magic.

"Pepper-up potion," Snape replied.

Harry found the entire thing odd. Snape was being nice to him and going to help him with his homework, and added to that he wasn't snapping at him while doing so.

"Have you started on any of your homework?" Snape asked, as he pulled out his knife.

"The history, but I can't really concentrate on it. I think I know what I'm writing about so it's just about getting myself to do it. What I don't really understand is Transfiguration. I don't understand the theory behind it, to even write the essay, and really I can't see how this could possibly work."

Snape didn’t say anything while he cut some sort of root. Once he was done and he had equal pieces of it, he looked at Harry. "What form of transfiguration of it, is it?"

Harry opened his book and looked for the term. It took him a few minutes but then he had it. "It's referring to changing things into their opposites as in water to fire, but the way the theory is stated is what confuses me."

"Ah," Snape said. He waved his wand at his cauldron and slowly stirred something in with a stirring rod. "Well, I won't be much help to you with transfiguration, but Professor McGonagall would be happy to help. You could ask her about it. Any trouble with anything else?"

"The potions," Harry said almost in the form of a question.

Snape let out a rare laugh. "As expected. Have you even looked at the assignment? For all you know it could just say, 'have fun'."

Harry gave him a perplexed look, but shook his head. This amused Snape further.

"Potions has never been your thing," Snape said. "Not many understand them."

Harry chose this moment to argue. "I would understand them had you taught the class better. Yelling at us and expecting us to know certain things the moment we come into class doesn't help. Neither does it help that other students sabotage other's potions."

Snape sighed, but said nothing until he had finished counting his stirring under his breath. Harry watched him. Potions were enthralling. There was a lot more than just a set rule, there were possibilities that could be explored and that had interested him from the beginning, but potions had turned into a nightmare for him, with Snape and his remarks, and Malfoy getting away with everything. He'd given up on ever appreciating the class and what he could do with potions.

"I think we're going to have to start with the basics," Snape said, wiping his hands with a white cloth. "We don't have too much time, but your mother was brilliant at potions and I am a potions master. It is unthinkable that you don't have any idea what to do with them even with the little instruction of mine that seems to have gone to your head."

Harry almost smiled.

Snape looked around the classroom. "Alright. I think it should begin with brewing a potion."

Harry was surprised at this.

"I think it will be safe enough to trust you with following simple instructions," Snape continued, and then with a wave of his wand summoned a book from across the room. He flipped to the table of contents and quickly scanned it. He flipped the pages until he was somewhere in the middle of the book and then he handed it to Harry. "Try that, then we'll talk about the summer assignment."

Harry nodded and turned to the book. He scanned the page. The potion looked simple enough. He moved to one of the nearest cauldrons and set the book down next to it, and then he walked to the open cupboard that he knew would contain all the ingredients he needed.

-

-

-

It was an odd thing to watch his son measure and cut ingredients for a potion. To watch him meticulously put in the most reacting ingredient and then as he observed his potion. He had never noticed that in the boy before. He'd never seen himself in his son, and now he was. In fact—Severus frowned at the revelation—Harry didn't quite look like before. They were subtle changes, small little things that one would never have seen had they not been looking. His hair was darker and less messy, of course it was still sticking out all over the place, but Severus would not doubt that it could be tamed if someone ever gave it a try. Then there were other things, like the fact that Harry had gained at least two inches in height and did not look as thin as before.

Severus continued watching him. He didn't know how to be a father. He'd never expected to be a father. It was funny, he realized, how much had changed since he had viewed those memories, but still the fear of rejection remained. Harry didn't need him, he had made that clear, and he had made it clear to him that he would not act like a father to him. They both had so much at stake.

"I'm finished," Harry said suddenly, startling him.

Severus walked towards where Harry stood, looking down at his potion. It was perfect, Severus admitted to himself. The green color was right down to the slightly blue hints of color that were supposed to sit around its corners. He gave his son a rare smile that made Harry frown and then brought out two potion flasks to bottle the potion.

"This is what I expect of only some students," Severus told him. "Granger and Malfoy are the only ones in your grade actually capable of brewing a proper potion, but now I wonder if you have more talent for this than I have given you credit for."

Harry said nothing.

Severus nodded to himself and frowned slightly before he picked up the book he had given Harry and he flipped it to the last few pages in the book.

"Brew that one," He told his son and then turned away, walking back to his pepper-up potion which he still needed to bottle.

While ladling the potion into flasks Severus watched his son gather ingredients for the potion he would be working on. He was almost startled when he heard a tapping on the door, but quickly set his potion phial down and went to open the door.

The eagle owl flew in and landed on his shoulder, extending his leg out to him. Severus untied the letter from his leg and opened it.

Dear Severus,

I fear this letter is not the kind of letter I wished to pen to you, my friend. After all these terrible events that have occurred around my family I wish to ask of you a favor. You once said you would do anything for your godson, I wish that you spoke true. I rather not write anything else within this letter lest it be read by someone other than you. I wish to have tea with you, however to discuss this matter. I am available at any time this week, owl me when it would be best to meet.

Narcissa Malfoy

Severus stared at the letter disbelievingly. He hadn't talked to Narcissa Malfoy in a number of years and yet she wanted to have tea with him, and of course ask him a favor, one that would help Draco. He didn’t really like the idea of giving his word to Narcissa that he would help Draco in whatever way he needed. He sighed. He needed to talk to the headmaster, but even Dumbledore wouldn't be much help.

He folded the letter and put it in his robes pocket. He'd have to talk to Dumbledore before writing back to her. He turned to look at Harry and saw him slowly dropping belladonna into the cauldron and stirring as he went.

"I trust you can remain here by yourself and not explode the room. I need to talk to the headmaster, I will be back shortly," Severus told Harry.

Harry nodded.

-

-

-

August 20, 1996

"He is my son, Severus," Narcissa said in a pain filled voice. "My only son." She wrung her hands.

Severus did not say anything to this, his expression did not change. He only sipped quietly at his tea.

Narcissa continued, "You cannot understand the love a mother has for her son. To me he is just a boy. He is far from ready to kill someone. In fact, I think he's expected to fail, a fair punishment for Lucius, wouldn't you say. The dark lord wishes to only punish Lucius, nothing more. He could care less if Draco died!"

It was strangely enough exactly what was meant by the task set on Draco. And Narcissa did have a point. The boy was much too young to take on something as that. He would never get the courage enough to kill Dumbledore.

"And what do you intend to ask me to do, Narcissa? I cannot interfere with our lord's wishes. I cannot ask Draco to be spared."

"But you could lead him. You could help him. You could do everything in your power to make sure he succeeds," Narcissa said. "If not for me, do it for Draco. He does not know what it truly means to be involved in this; at least he doesn't act like it. He would appreciate help eventually, if that is the least you can do."

"I will look after your son, Narcissa," Severus said not completely reluctant.

"Will you give me an unbreakable vow?"

Severus hadn't expected this, but as he mulled the thought over Severus noticed at once that she seemed to want something else but didn't know how to bring it up or if she even should. His curiosity got the better of him. "What else is on your mind, Narcissa?"

"I want you to protect him," She said. "I want you to tell me, to promise me that you will protect him even if it means doing his task for him."

No. He wouldn't be the one to kill Dumbledore. He would not do it. He couldn't do it. But when the other option was that Draco would kill him, that he would become a murderer.

"Promise me, Severus!" Narcissa said frantically. "Promise me that you will help him, that you will protect him. That you will complete the task if he is not able to."

Severus knew he couldn't say no. Saying no would give Narcissa some idea that he wasn't completely loyal to Voldemort. With a short nod he sighed.

"Who will do the binding?" He asked.

"I will," Bellatrix said, coming out of the shadows with a strange smirk on her face. "For a moment there, I really thought you wouldn't do it, Severus, but then killing Dumbledore isn't want you want to do, is it, Severus?"

Severus gave nothing away when he spoke. "I am only loyal to the dark lord, as you should well know, Bellatrix, now let's get on with this. I have much to do before the school year starts."

Bellatrix gave him a doubtful look. Severus knew he had to go through with it now. He clasped Narcissa's hand. Bellatrix walked forward muttering to herself.

"You still don't believe I am only loyal to our lord, Bellatrix," Severus gave her a mocking smile.

She glared at him.

"Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?"

"I will," Severus said, feeling as if the world was crashing around him.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"

"I will," Severus said. He would would have done both of these things without the vow.

A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the fire, making a fine, flowing chain.

"And, should it prove necessary…if it seems Draco will fail…" whispered Narcissa, "will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"

A silence fell before them. Bellatrix looked to Snape, with a strange expression. Severus took a deep breath and then rather reluctantly, eyes never leaving Bellatrix he spoke, "I will."

The last tongue of flame wound around their hands, and interlinked with the others almost snake like, and then they all disappeared.

Narcissa was crying silently. "Thank you, Severus, thank you. I knew you'd be able to help us."

Severus nodded and stood up. "I really do have to go," He said and turned to leave. Before he had, however, Narcissa had clasped both his hands.

"Thank you, Severus," She said once more.

He nodded at her and then left the room without once looking at Bellatrix.

-

-

-

Harry grinned to himself. He'd just finished his Transfiguration essay with small help from Professor McGonagall and now all he needed to worry about was his potions assignment, but he couldn't start it until Snape came back from where ever he had gone off to.

"How has your summer been so far, Harry?" McGonagall asked.

"Odd." Harry grinned. "Not a bad odd, just odd."

McGonagall smiled at him. "I hope at least you've had a good long break before school starts up again. Looking forward to your classes this year?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really, but then I'm not Hermione."

McGonagall gave him a knowing nod. "There is that. How is Ms. Granger?"

"Fine. I haven't really had time to talk to my friends this summer. I've been busy with other things. Learning occlumency."

"Yes, Albus did mention that. Is that coming along well?"

Harry grinned at her. "Yes. I can complete block out Snape, now."

"Professor Snape, Harry," McGonagall corrected, then, "That is good, Harry, very good. Now, if you'll excuse me, Harry, I have quite a bit to do today. I still haven't finished with some schedules."

Harry nodded. "I should go then, I don't want to get in the way."

"Oh, you weren’t, Harry, really. I just need a lot to get done. I really did enjoy talking to you and explaining everything to you." She smiled at him. "You could help me, if you want. If I get this done faster I could give myself a break later on this week. I could then maybe pick a new quidditch captain." McGonagall gave him a wink.

For lack of something better to do, and the fact that he was now sure he would be the quidditch captain, Harry grinned and nodded at his head of house and said, "What can I do?"

"I think I can trust you, Harry, to not mention any of the information you will see in here today. Because I am the deputy headmistress it is I who take care of the schedules of all the students, this is mostly so because in years past lack of communication between the head of houses has gotten schedules completely mixed up. We needed a better system. I have finished the first through fourth years which is all that I should do until now, but I need to have a list of the classes each student can't take according to how they did in their exams. That is what you can help me with, Harry.

"I need you to list every class a student can't take, starting with the sixth years, while I deal with the fifth year schedules."

Harry thought that was easy enough.

"I haven't seen my O.W.L. scores," He thought to say a moment later.

McGonagall looked up. "They were sent out with the usual Hogwarts letter."

"I didn't get that either," Harry said. He'd found it odd, and until that moment had not thought to mention it.

"Odd, but there could be a number of reasons for this," McGonagall said. "I will get you a copy of the supplies list before you leave tonight, and you could start with yourself on the list if you want to know your scores."

Harry nodded and eagerly looked for the paper with his name on it. He found it at last a few minutes later and pulled it out and then with a small sigh of worry at what he could have possibly gotten he looked at his O.W.L. results.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: D

Potions: E

Transfiguration: E

Seven O.W.L.s! It was two more than he had hoped to expect. He hadn't doubted he would get an outstanding at Defense, and neither had he expected less than an E in Care of Magical Creatures. The E in Herbology hadn't been too much of a surprise, and the Transfiguration had been a little higher than his expected Acceptable. History of Magic he had known he would fail, after all, he had fallen asleep during the exam, what else could he have expected? But the astronomy grade, passing had been a surprise, especially considering he hadn't exactly finished that exam either. Charms was exactly as he had expected. He wasn't brilliant at the class but he wasn't terrible at it, but an E in Potions?

He had studied, there was that, and he had put a lot of effort into his potion, as well as the test so the grade shouldn’t have surprised him too much. He smiled slightly. Seven O.W.L.s!

"Happy with your results, Harry?" McGonagall asked.

"Oh, yes," Harry said. "I'm surprised I managed to get an E in potions as well as an E in your class, but then I was sort of expecting the rest." Harry stopped and looked at his grades again. "But then, I'm sort of disappointed," He found himself saying. "I got an E in Potions. There goes my chosen career."

McGonagall gave him a disapproving stare. "I'm sure if you talk to him. You've spent the summer with him after all, he might be willing to let you into his class."

Harry had no doubt about that, but he also knew that Snape wouldn't want anyone knowing that he had let the boy-who-lived into his class with his O.W.L. as a meager E.

"Professor?" Harry asked a moment later. "Could you not mention it to anyone that I got an E in potions, if he does let me into his class this year I doubt he would want anyone to think he has gone soft and allowed me into his class with only an E. Of course if he does allow me he will tell everyone that Dumbledore bullied him into it."

McGonagall laughed. "Ah, Harry, you have gotten some small understanding of the man that is Severus Snape."

Harry grinned and he turned back to writing down what classes he wanted to take that year that he was currently allowed to. "These are the classes I want, Professor," He said.

"That would be fine, Harry, you will tell me if you will be taking potions this year or not as soon as you get an answer won't you, Harry?"

Harry nodded, "Of course." And then he turned back to his work, starting with Hannah Abbot.

-

-

-

"You did what!" Draco said with exasperation as he glared at his mother. He couldn't believe her. She had gone and asked his professor, the man that in his mind was somewhat at fault for his father going to Azkaban, to help him. "How will Snape help me?" He asked.

His mother sighed. "He gave me an unbreakable vow, Draco. He will die if he does not help you or at the very least protects you. He is bound to me by the vow. He will help you even if it means for him to complete the task that you are meant to do."

Draco's eyes widened. He just couldn’t believe her. He didn't want to kill Dumbledore, he didn't want Snape to kill Dumbledore for that matter, in fact he liked the headmaster, as much as he claimed otherwise, and now the man was going to die, just because of his mother.

"A good lot that does to help me, mother," He said. "I can handle things on my own, you don't have to get involved in every little thing."

His mother said nothing to this, but instead shook her head and turned to leave the room. Draco stopped her. As much as he heated how involved his mother would get in his life, she was his mother. "I know you mean well," He said. "But I know what I am doing."

"You're sixteen, Draco. You don't understand the world as I do. A mother will always protect her son, at whatever cost," with that said she was gone.

Draco buried his head in his arms. It was stupid, he knew, to think that maybe he could get away with leaving Snape to do all the work now that his mother had done this. But he didn't want to become a murderer, he didn't want to kill the wizard that could mean his freedom. He sighed. There was no one that could help him. His father who had tried to leave Voldemort, or so it had appeared to him that day, was in Azkaban. Snape didn't seem like the person that would be remotely helpful to him, even though now that he was in that bind maybe he could become useful. And then there was Potter.

Potter was the answer. He knew the boy-who-lived would have to be his way into the order, or if nothing else his way out of Voldemort's claws. He just needed to somehow get on the good side of the raven haired, emerald eyed hero. He could already feel the beginning of the terrible year before him.

August 22, 1996

Harry literally ran into Remus Lupin on his way to the dungeons from the library, carrying a number of books that Snape had recommended he read to help him with his potions work. His books slipped out of his hands and were thrown to the ground at the collision but Harry managed to stop himself from joining them at the ground. Remus had also remained on his feet and gave Harry a smile.

"Sorry," Harry said. "Books obstructed my vision."

"It's quite alright, Harry," Remus told him "I was actually looking for you. Severus said you were in the library, that's where I was headed." Remus waved his wand as he spoke and Harry's books put themselves into a neat pile.

"Thanks," Harry said and then grinned at the werewolf. "So, is it official now?"

"I'm officially your professor again, yes," Remus told him.

Harry, still grinning, said, "We do need to have that talk, then, the one about the DA members."

"Right," Remus said and levitated Harry's books. "Would you like to come to my office? We can have tea and discuss this, among other things."

"That'd be great," Harry said enthusiastically. He'd missed Remus in the few weeks he had been apart from the werewolf and now he was back.

A few minutes later they stepped into Remus' office. Harry was happy to note that it was almost exactly as it had been back when Remus had been using it during Harry's third year, including a magical creature sitting in a covered cage in the corner of the room.

"How have the living arrangements with Severus gone?" Remus asked while he fixed their tea with a wave of his wand.

Harry shrugged. He fingered a loose thread on his too big muggle shirt, another one of Dudley's belongings, and then answered, "Alright, I guess. We get along somewhat, but it's Snape; and it's me, and"—Harry let out a small laugh—"no one should ever have expected the two of us to be father and son. I think we both decided it would remain being in name only."

Remus didn’t say anything for a while. When he spoke he was pouring their tea into two identical cups. "Do you wish it to be more, Harry, for him to maybe be a father to you?"

Harry didn't know how to answer that. Did he want Snape to be his father? That was basically the question. It wasn't like he hated the man anymore, but did he want to see him as his father, truly?

"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't need anyone, but he is my father, isn't he?"

Remus bought out the sugar. "How many?" He asked.

"Two," Harry said, absentmindedly, then, "He cared for me once, when I was a baby. There were memories they sent me, his memories. There was one, he was in my room, I guess, and he just told me all these things about what they were going to do and how terrible he felt about it, how he didn’t want to go through with it all and how he wished things were different. I don't know, but we're not who we were then, obviously, and maybe everything might have been different if I had learned of this earlier, when I was younger, but now…" Harry trailed off. He picked up his cup of tea.

"I think, Harry, that over time you have grown to not need anyone, maybe because you never had an adult around to help you, or because you grew self-sufficient. But let's move on to a better topic. What exactly have you taught those DA members of yours?"

Harry was glad at the change of topic and threw himself into the topic, describing what each of the members could do, what spells he had taught them, their weaknesses, as well as how he had taught them, how long it had taken each of them to learn a certain spell, and the power behind their spells.

After a while they stopped.

"Will you continue the DA this year?" Remus asked.

"I don't know," Harry said truthfully. "We all do need to be prepared for what is out there, but you're here now, and you're a brilliant teacher, not to add to the fact that I myself will be too busy to do much of anything much less add this to my pile of things to do."

Remus smiled. "Ah, Harry, I've never felt that any of this has been right, you being put on the spot. You're just sixteen, you shouldn't have to worry about him."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't very well tell him about the prophecy, the reason he was the one that needed to train and that needed to get ready for when the time came.

Remus seemed to have realized that Harry didn't want to talk about it, however, because he changed the subject.

"I was thinking of staring off this year with the patronus charm, after all the trouble with the dementors and everything, I think everyone should know the charm. I'm thinking of starting with that for the sixth years and bringing it in later for the fourth and fifth years. The seventh years should be introduced to it, too, of course, what do you think?"

"A couple of them will know how to do it, some of them in fifth year. Ginny Weasley, for one, and Luna Lovegood. Colin Creevey must know too."

Remus nodded. "That will most likely be helpful, actually. I think I may just have you there as my student teacher," Remus laughed, and then more seriously, "I could take you on as an apprentice if you wanted to do this, it would look good on your application. Your father—" Remus stopped and smiled sadly at Harry before continuing. "—James was an auror, I'm not sure anyone told you that. He and Sirius both were. Anyhow, the only reason James got in was because of his work with our defense teacher back then.

"It will help. Regardless, I do think you have enough knowledge of defense that you could teach first through sixth year, seventh year even, considering the lack of good teachers you lot have wound up with."

Harry couldn't help but grin. "Would I have time for this?"

"What classes are you taking?"

"Potions, Defense, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and I was thinking about maybe taking Care of Magical Creatures. I've got it all covered with Professor McGonagall."

Remus tapped his fingers against his desk. "You'd need the first five classes you mentioned, but Care of Magical Creatures, what are you gaining from that?"

"Nothing, really, I just needed another class and while muggle studies is as interesting as the next thing, I would have at least had fun with Hagrid."

"Meaning, you can drop that and turn it into a free period which added to your other free period could give you enough time to become my apprentice. Professor McGonagall would not be opposed to that, I think."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. It was reasonable enough, and he didn't think it would really affect him. It wasn't like he would use his free periods to work on school work anyway, knowing Ron and the other Gryffindors not counting Hermione, he wouldn't get enough peace to work on anything.

"Alright, I guess that's sort of settled." Harry grinned at him.

"I'll tell your head of house and Dumbledore later tonight, and we'll be set. I don't think anyone would have any trouble with this." Remus shuffled the papers on his desk and finally found what he was looking for. He pulled out a beaten up watch and read the time. "We're ten minutes late to the dinner."

Harry looked towards his pile of books. "Could I leave them here, pick them up after dinner?"

"Of course, but come along, we mustn't miss dinner," Remus said, standing up.

Harry stood up moments later and Remus threw an arm around his shoulders. "Ah, Harry," Remus sighed. "I can feel the beginnings of a strange year."

Harry grinned. "The summer has not been without its surprises, either."

-

-

-

August 23, 1996

"How is your magic this morning?" Snape shot at him that morning when Harry entered the small kitchenette in Snape's quarters. It was here that they had breakfast every morning, brought to them by Dobby.

"Better," Harry said with a weary sigh.

It had begun to show up slightly, weakly the day before when he had woken up, and he had been excited for the most part, but there hadn't been much of a change, except for the fact that now he could hold a spell for longer than the minute and a half he had been able to the day before.

"It will become better. Just a few more weeks," Snape said as he unfolded his usual paper.

"I changed my mind about Care of Magical Creatures," Harry said. He had been trying to bring the subject up since after dinner the night before but hadn't really gotten anywhere.

Snape looked up. "Two free periods a day might help you keep up your studies," He agreed. "Why the sudden change?"

"I know I'll get nothing done during my free periods. I don't think my friends—other than Hermione—would allow me to pull out any books unless they were about quidditch, so instead Remus offered me an apprenticeship."

At this, Snape frowned.

"It’s alright, isn't it?" Harry asked. "Professor McGonagall thinks it's a great idea, she said so yesterday and the headmaster is fine with it as long as it doesn't take time away from my other studies. I think as long as I manage my time, listen to Hermione mostly I could pull this off. We're done with the occlumency lessons, aren’t we? And I'll be learning a lot from Remus that will no doubt help me later on."

Snape was looking at him oddly. "I wish you had talked to me about it, before deciding on this," He said. "Dumbledore and I discussed maybe allowing you independent study so you could further study not only defense but the dark arts."

"The dark arts?" Harry asked, surprised.

"To know how to defeat them, one must have knowledge of what one is fighting," Snape said. "However, if you are more concerned with your future career I will not deprive you of this."

Snape then folded his paper up and walked out of the small kitchen. Harry stared after him for a long moment before he frowned at his breakfast and stood up. He walked to his room where he found his stack of potions books. He had started perusing them the night before and had found the subject quite interesting and he had been meaning to ask Snape some questions about part of it, but he didn't think the man would want to answer anything after their talk during breakfast. Harry still didn't understand exactly why Snape had been offended, or bothered by the fact that Harry would be working with Remus.

-

-

-

Severus knocked on the headmaster's office. He heard a muffled enter and proceeded to enter the familiar round office.

"Harry is taking an apprenticeship with Lupin," Severus announced. "I was under the impression that I would be working with him on the theory of the dark arts so that some understanding of the subject can help him defeat it."

Dumbledore nodded. "And Harry will be doing that," He said "As well as his apprenticeship. I think Harry needs more than just work, he needs something fun, something he will enjoy."

Severus snorted. "He has quidditch for that."

Dumbledore gave him a look.

"I am only preoccupied by the fact that he is taking too much into his plate. He is taking five N.E.W.T.s classes, demanding classes. He will also be helping Lupin every day for two periods a day, added to this he will have homework, and then he shall be working with me on his training. The boy will not be able to handle all of this."

Dumbledore muttered something, as if adding to the list, but when Severus looked at him he shook his head.

"He will handle it, Severus, there will be quite a few alterations to his schedule yet."

Severus frowned but said nothing before he stood and walked to the fire.

"Do not underestimate your son, Severus, he is a very powerful wizard," Dumbledore said.

"I don't doubt his power, but his sanity," Severus muttered.

-

-

-

August 24, 1996

Harry sat on a pile of books. He looked around the charms classroom and grinned.

"Enjoying the view, Harry?" Professor Flitwick asked, entering the room and making Harry jump slightly.

After regaining his balance Harry smiled at the short charms professor. "I kind of like it up here. You can see everything. When I came in I was sort of tempted to get up here, and I sort of did it."

"One of the reasons I use it," Professor Flitwick said. "Can I help you with anything this morning, Harry?"

Harry shook his head and made his way down from the pile. "I was wondering if you needed any help. I think I may have been pestering Professor McGonagall just a tad bit too much, and she sent me to help any teacher that needed it."

"Not really, but thanks for the offer, Harry. We could on the other hand have some tea if you feel up to it this early in the morning."

"Very up to it," Harry said. "How has your summer been, Professor?"

Professor Flitwick led Harry to his office and talked about his summer in France and the research he had been able to get done for a project concerning magical levels in magical creatures.

"And your summer, Harry?"

Harry shrugged at the tiny professor. "Nothing exciting happened, I was mostly inside, staying out of the way just in case what with everything going on these days."

Flitwick nodded understandably and opened his office door. Harry followed after him and looked around the unfamiliar room. He had never been in the charms professor office before and found that the office very much described his professor. It was all full of warmth and radiated kindness and welcoming.

"What will we be learning this year, Professor?" Harry asked, after a few subjects had been exhausted.

Flitwick clapped his hands enthusiastically. "I have a treat for you lot this year, but I won't ruin the surprise just yet! We will, however, be learning a lot more about the creation of spells. Miss Granger will enjoy that, I think."

Harry nodded, readily, wondering what the charms professor would have in store for them.

-

-

-

August 25, 1996

It was odd, shopping with Snape, Harry realized the moment he stepped into Gladrags with Snape following close behind under the disguise of Remus who had agreed to give Snape some of his hair as to make sure no one guessed at Snape's true alliances. Snape had a flask hidden in his robes that he would take sips from at every half hour just in case, to keep the polijuice working. Even though they had meant to go shopping with Ron and Hermione, due to a number of things, their plans had been changed and he and Snape had wound up shopping four days later, alone.

"Unlike those atrocious muggles," Snape said once they were in the shop and browsing through clothes. "I do wish you to have a wardrobe that would not embarrass anyone in your presence." And then he proceeded to gather clothes and hand them to Harry, pushing him towards the changing rooms to make him try them on.

After giving Snape a dark look, he tried some of them out and found he liked how he felt wearing clothes that actually fit him, not that he had always just worn the old clothes from Dudley, after all at Hogwarts he was nearly always in robes, but having muggle clothes that fit him without his having to roll the sleeves over or use a belt felt nice.

They spent more than half an hour in Gladrags and when they left, Snape was shrinking a number of bags of clothes that he had insisted Harry need, ignoring Harry's protests, and still they weren't done with their shopping.

Next Snape took Harry to Madame Malkin's to get Harry not only school robes, but other robes and a few extra cloaks other than the usual black one required by the school.

"I have more than enough clothes," Harry said in complaint as Snape made him don a green cloak that seemed to bring out his eyes, as Madame Malkin had proclaimed upon seeing Snape hand it to Harry.

"Yes, lovely, dear," She said, now, while looking at Harry.

The shopping did not stop after finally finishing the gatherings of Harry's new wardrobe, instead it continued. It continued on to the apothecary, where Snape gathered a number of herbs and gruesome potion ingredients, not only for himself but to replenish Harry's own potion stores.

Then it was to Flourish and Botts where Harry bought a number of books, not all of them for his classes, but some that had interested him on sight, and others that Snape told him would help him greatly in certain of his classes, as well as other books that Snape handed him and told him would help him with his extra lessons with him, which Harry hadn't until that moment known he would be having.

Snape also bought his own collection of books, a much larger pile than Harry even, and Harry wondered where Snape would put those books as well as when he would even have time to bother with reading them, but he said nothing as they paid for their belongings and moved on to buy Harry a new cauldron, and then parchment, ink, and quills.

By the time Harry once entered Hogwarts again right after lunch he was tired, and ready to go to sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Dumbledore had asked him to go to his office the moment he arrived from Diagon Alley, and Harry intended to do as he was asked.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk when Harry entered the office, followed by Snape. Remus was already within and was slowly looking over a piece of parchment. He grinned when Harry entered and Harry took the seat next to his werewolf friend. Snape sneered at them, but Harry didn't take notice of this. Remus did, but he said nothing.

"Now what is this about, Albus?" Snape asked almost at once, not bothering to take his seat, but remaining standing behind the empty chair that had been meant for him.

"Why, Harry's schedule," Dumbledore said as if it was the obvious thing. "His school schedule has been dealt with already and it cannot be changed, but Harry will be doing four extracurricular activities this year."

"Four?" Snape asked. "I thought only two. His training with me, and his apprenticeship."

"Ah, but you forget quidditch," Dumbledore said.

"And the fourth?" Snape asked.

"Why, his lessons with me," Dumbledore said.

"Lessons with you, sir?" Harry asked, just as surprised as the other two occupants of the room.

"Yes, there is much that I should have told you, Harry, as you proved to me last year, and with so limited time as we have I must share with you the knowledge that even I have not interpreted to its fullest. I cannot put a specific time to each of our meetings. I am a busy man with much to do, but I will inform you as much in advance as I can to when our meetings will be. I ask that you be excused from any other thing during those nights, that includes quidditch."

Harry nodded, but said nothing.

"I will not require Harry to come to me in the evenings," Remus put in. "The only time I require of him is his free periods during the day and every other Saturday afternoon."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Two nights a week he must be in my rooms, they can vary if that will make it easier to get away with no one noticing our patterns. I also think the weekend, maybe Saturday evening or Sunday afternoon will be needed."

Harry watched the entire thing with slight amusement. It was like parents deciding on which days each got him after a hasty divorce. He almost laughed at imagining how they would take it if he actually told them that was how they sounded.

"Is this alright with you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, fine," Harry said.

September 1, 1996

Hermione Granger followed Ginny and Ron Weasley into an empty compartment.

"Where's Harry, do you reckon?" Ron asked while helping Ginny with her trunk.

Hermione shrugged. "I haven't heard much from him, I was surprised he didn't show up at Diagon Alley that other day, but I guess he's busy with everything. Training, I'm assuming."

Before Ron or Ginny could respond, the compartment door was opened and Draco Malfoy stepped inside already in his robes, with his prefect badge pinned to his chest. His blond hair was in his eyes and he looked almost angelic, except that a smirk was on his lips.

Draco said nothing even though he looked as if he wanted to. Instead he headed to the window looking out at the platform and sat down. Not even Ron could say anything with his surprise. Ginny simply looked at him wide-eyed, while Hermione calmly took her seat and stared thoughtfully at Draco.

Ron frowned but said nothing and pulled Ginny to sit next to him as for from Draco as possible. He glared at the blond.

"So," Ginny said as if to break the ice, "Is this how the prefect compartment always is? Percy almost made it feel as if we were missing something great."

No one answered her. Ron was still glaring at Draco, and Hermione was now looking out of the compartment door as if willing someone to enter and break the awkwardness.

"Where is Harry?" Ron asked suddenly. "Everyone is on the train practically and there is only"—he looked at his worn old watch—"ten minutes for him to get here."

Hermione looked at Ron. She frowned. "He could be on the train, maybe."

Ron shook his head. "He would have seen us, or we would have seen him."

Ginny sighed. "He is okay, right guys?"

"Lupin said so, but he left so abruptly, just completely out of the blue," Ron said slumping his shoulder.

Ernie McMillan chose that moment to enter the compartment, as he did Draco looked up. Ernie greeted them all and sat down. Hannah Abbot followed him as well as a couple from Ravenclaw, Colin Creevey, Pansy Parkinson, and two other Slytherins.

Draco merely nodded at all of them, once, stiffly, not once meeting any of their eyes before he once more stared out the window.

"Draco!" Pansy cried as she took a seat next to him and reached for his hand.

Draco didn't pull his hand away, but the hand clasped to his made no difference to his expression.

The prefects' meeting lasted a little over an hour, and then they were all heading to different compartments to hang out with friends. Draco, Hermione noted attempted to remain behind but was pulled out by Pansy who was babbling to him about something.

Ron and Hermione went to the compartment that Neville and Luna had wound up sitting in, with Ginny following them. Once they had settled themselves, the subject of Harry once more come up.

"Did he ever owl an explanation for not coming to Diagon Alley?" Neville asked.

"No," Ron said. "And he isn't on the train."

"He's just busy," Hermione said. "For all we know he's already at Hogwarts training or something."

Ron nodded and said nothing else on the matter.

"What was up with Malfoy today?" Ginny asked suddenly. "He looked depressed, maybe a little quieter, different from last year, anyway."

Ron shrugged.

Hermione bit her lip. "He grew up," She muttered to them. "The war, maybe it's changed him."

Ron looked as if he wanted to argue, but Neville spoke first, "What happened? Did Malfoy say something?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, it's that he said nothing."

-

-

-

Harry was running. He was late. He hadn't exactly meant to get caught up, but he had just figured out why his potion had reacted the way it had and then he had wanted to research something else. He knew, now, how Hermione felt. He had never expected that he would, but he needed to get to the Great Hall before the first years were led in to get sorted. He'd promised Snape that he wouldn't be late and he would make sure that he checked the time, which made his being late even worse.

Harry came to a stop. Professor McGonagall was walking into the Great Hall and the first years were walking behind her in awe of the castle. Harry threw himself behind a suit of armor. A couple of the first years, two girls that to Harry looked miniscule giggled and looked at him. Harry gave them a wave, followed by a wink and then touched his lips with his fingers. They giggled even more, but followed the other first years.

Harry quickly, sneakily ran after them and while most people were looking at the first years, made his way to the Gryffindor table. He took a seat near the middle of the table, startling Hermione and Ron when he slipped into the empty seat between them. Before he could turn to his shocked best friends, however, he looked up at the staff table. He grinned when Remus gave him a small smile and wink. Dumbledore looked amused down the table from Remus, while Snape looked as strict as ever, and as if he felt Harry needed some punishment for his crime. McGonagall pursed her lips at him but Harry could see it wasn't because she disapproved but that she was fighting a smile.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked next to him. "We were so worried. You weren't on the train and then you weren't in here either, we thought maybe you might not be coming to Hogwarts at all this year."

Harry shrugged, but didn't answer, because the hat had stopped singing and the sorting had begun. Harry found himself seeking out the two first years that had spotted him, out in the crowd.

"Ah, there they are," He said to himself in a small whisper.

"Who?" Ron asked, though he didn't, Harry noticed, pay attention to see if he would answer and instead looked longingly at his empty plate.

"No one," Harry said more for the benefit of Hermione who had a questioning look on her face. "Just some first years that saw me earlier."

"We were not that short when we were first years," Ron told them a moment later as one of the smaller first years, a boy with curly light brown hair ran up to the stool and scrambled onto it before allowing the hat to cover half his face when he slipped it on.

The hat took a long moment to decide on his house and then called, "Ravenclaw!"

"No, really, we weren't that short," Ron said while the Ravenclaw table burst into cheers for their new member.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry said nothing but just continued watching the sorting, waiting for one of the two girls to be called, however, he couldn’t help but disagree with Ron. He had been that small when he had arrived at Hogwarts, he'd been a scrawny, diminutive eleven year old.

Harry did not catch her name, but noticed when the blond first year he had seen earlier ran up to the stool and sat down, pulling the hat over her head covering her blue eyes.

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted and Harry clapped with the rest as she made her way to the table at a brisk pace, looking for an empty seat, consequently the seat across from Harry was empty, and she slipped into it, between Lavender Brown, and Dean Thomas.

"Hi," she said nervously around the table.

Lavender gave her a small smile but turned quickly back to Parvati. Dean barely nodded at her and continued looking at whatever magazine he and Seamus had under the table. Hermione gave the first year a welcoming smile, and Ron chose to completely not even notice her. He was still glaring at his empty plate.

Harry was the only one to greet her verbally with a hello.

The sorting continued on until the other girl he had seen earlier was up. She was a deep contrast to the other, with her dark hair.

"Slytherin!" The hat shouted within a few seconds if it being on her head and she walked slowly to the table that Harry had not yet given a glance at yet.

When Harry turned to look at it, he found Draco Malfoy staring at him in a confused manner.

The sorting was finished a moment later and then Dumbledore was standing. He smiled at them and then said a number of odd words before the feast was upon them.

"So, where were you?" Hermione asked again.

Harry bit into his chicken and took a minute to swallow. "I'll tell you later," He said. "Too many people."

Hermione gave him a dubious look, but didn't press the matter. Ron was ignoring both of them and stuffing his mouth with food. Across from him, Lavender was giving him flirtatious looks but Ron either was ignoring them or did not notice them; Harry would bet his left arm that Ron hadn't noticed them.

"You're Harry Potter, right?"

Harry looked across the table to the first year. "Yes," he answered.

"It's just I didn't know if you were. I mean, I've heard about you, of course, who hasn't? But I've never seen a picture of you and you're so normal, nothing like I expected you to act." She blushed.

Ron snickered.

-

-

-

September 2, 1996

Harry's first day of classes was memorable. It began well enough. He was the first one awake in his dorm room, and could still hear the snoring coming from Ron's bed as he grabbed his Hogwarts uniform and dressed quickly, before he grabbed the potions book he had been reading the night before while working on the potion that had waylaid him.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Hermione and Ron his cover story yet as to where he had been. Snape had been the one to save him from telling them anything, informing him as he was leaving the great hall. Harry could chuckle at the memory of the night before.

Harry was walking out of the great hall next to Hermione who was calling for the first years to follow her, but he hadn't even gotten to the door before he was stopped by Snape.

"Mr. Potter," Snape had drawled. "It is interesting how much like your insufferable father you are, breaking the rules on the first night back. I'm surprised even you could beat his record of fastest detention gotten within the halls of Hogwarts. In fact, you will serve it tonight, come along."

Ron had given Harry a stricken look, and Hermione had looked as if she wanted to argue, and while Harry had put up a front of the annoyed unfairly treated teenager he had said nothing and instead simply followed Snape.

Harry walked down into the common room and wasn't completely surprised to find Hermione already sitting in one of the most comfortable chairs in the common room a book open on her lap.

"Harry!" She said when she saw him, and quickly closed her book. "What are you doing up so early. I would have thought you would sleep in. What time did you get in last night, Ron and I waited but it was getting late and I mean today is our first day, we would have waited."

"No, it's alright. I got in somewhat late," Harry said. "It's part of the whole thing with last night, the reason I was late. I figured Snape would be mad."

Hermione perked up at mention of the night before. "Where were you? You weren't on the train and all and then you were late to dinner."

Harry sighed. "I was brewing a potion."

Hermione gave him a doubtful look.

"No, really, I was. The reason why I didn't tell you earlier is that no student should be allowed to stay at Hogwarts unless they're related to one of the staff, and it would be like especial preference, but really I only got here a day earlier than all of you. I've been training in everything really and I started on this one potion and I got caught up. They're really interesting potions, and I need to get a hang of them or Snape won't let me stay in the class. Anyhow, I was working on one of them, Snape told me he would let me as long as I made it to dinner on time, hence the detention."

Hermione frowned. Harry knew she had found something wrong with everything. "Then why did you stay with him so long?"

"Oh, right. Well, after continuing on with the potion, because Snape felt it was just the thing I needed to do, and exploding the cauldron, I got this burn on my arm, so I had to go to Madame Pomfrey, and she wouldn't let me leave until then."

It wasn't a complete lie. He had gotten burnt, and he had gone to the infirmary, but only because Snape had given her the last of his burn salve. But afterwards they had gone back to Snape's lab and had discussed his potion as well as the dangers of not paying attention to the time, as well as reacting ingredients.

Hermione didn't look like she liked the explanation but she let it go, as if she realized she was not going to get a straight answer and she would get one eventually depending on how much she pushed.

"Then where were you this summer?"

"Can't tell you, I'm not the secret keeper," Harry said. "We were at a safe house."

"Who was training you?"

Harry shrugged. "Really can't mention that one," He said and then looked at his book. He had hoped to be able to get some reading done, but it seemed that, that wasn't going to be the case.

Hermione who had decided to stop asking questions, said instead, "Should we head down to the great hall? No use in waiting for Ron, is there?"

"It's a little early, Hermione," Harry protested, "And Ron will probably want to head down with us too."

Hermione looked a little put out.

When Harry asked her what was wrong she said, "I just want to look at my new schedule, and prepare for the classes. I mean I know what I want to take and everything, and I have some idea how everything will fit, but what if I can't take something I have to fix my entire studying schedule and it took a week to prepare."

Harry laughed. "Fine, come on," Harry said. "We might as well go. I already know my schedule. McGonagall gave it to me yesterday, mostly because Snape, Remus, Dumbledore and I had to discuss it and how things are all fitting in. Snape didn't want to let me take Potions. I got an E on the OWL but he only takes O students, but Dumbledore convinced him that part of that was his fault. And then Remus convinced me that I shouldn't take Care of Magical Creatures, and he offered me an apprenticeship, which I am doing, by the way. So we had to fix everything. "

Hermione looked at him open mouthed. "So what are you taking?" She asked.

"Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Defense, but really spread throughout the week I have tons of time to help Remus and work on my potions."

Hermione said nothing but instead continued down to the great hall in silence.

-

-

-

Their first class begun just like any other charms class, with Professor Flitwick greeting all his students back with excitement but issuing his rules for his classroom that shouldn't have been forgotten. And then he had demonstrated what they were going to begin working on in the next few days after doing the entire theory behind the subject. Harry was glad about that part, all things considered he couldn't do his usual magic just yet, though it had gotten much stronger than before and he was able to do basic versions of all the spells he had learnt so far. Snape had told him that it would just take a little more time, but Harry was truly just getting frustrated with the entire thing.

The next period, while Hermione went off to Ancient Runes, and Ron to Care of Magical Creatures, Harry headed to the third floor to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When he arrived every seat was filled, all with first years. Gryffindors and Slytherins. Remus was not within the classroom but his office and Harry quickly ducked into it as well.

"Hello, Harry," Remus said. "Is this your free period?"

Harry nodded.

"Great. First year Gryffindors and Slytherins. I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking."

Harry laughed. "I think he is attempting more promotion at house unity, but it hasn't exactly worked ever. I'm assuming he's starting much earlier than usual."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Well come on, today, you're observing and learning names. Maybe you'd like to take roll. I need to write up a small note to Minerva about a certain third year Gryffindor."

"Alright," Harry said and began calling roll.

-

-

-

Harry entered the great hall alone after his first free period with Remus. He was grinning. It had gone great, granted they hadn't really done much but introduce themselves. The first years had gone nuts when they heard his name, even though, Harry thought, they should really have known who he was the moment he stepped into the room, not that he wanted to sound conceited.

"Hey, Harry," Imogen Copperfield—Imy for short—said, when Harry sat down. He had finally learned her name the night before during dinner and thought of her almost like a little sister, even though he had met her only the night before, but there was something to be said about the innocence of the young, she was full of it.

"How's your first day so far?" Harry asked, while piling his plate full of food.

"Great. It's a little strange with all the things in the castle, cool really. I've been late to two classes already. I couldn't find the stairs and no one would help me."

Harry laughed. "Ron and I got to Transfiguration late on our first day, and we thought we were so lucky, McGonagall wasn't there. I hadn't seen her transform into a cat before then, and suddenly she jumped at us and turned into herself. We were so scared."

Imy laughed.

Harry grinned at her and turned to his food just as Ron, followed by Hermione entered the Great Hall and spotted him.

"Hello, munchkin," Ron said to Imy, patting her on the head.

She scrunched up her nose and gave him a half-hearted glare. Ron laughed and began to grab anything within his vicinity. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"How was it with Remus?" She instead asked Harry, and began to put a modest pile of food onto her own plate.

"Fine. Fun, actually. We just got introductions done today. It will be interesting to help teach."

"I wonder," Hermione said. "Won't you consider teaching? Being a professor? I mean, you were brilliant last year with the DA, and now with Remus helping him teach, wouldn't it be better than becoming an auror?"

She had a point, but becoming an auror had been a dream of his since his fourth year, he had been fascinated by the job the moment he heard of it, and it wasn't like he didn't do that already. He was almost perfect for the job. He said nothing to Hermione, and instead continued eating his food.

"What do we have next?" Ron asked once he had finished stuffing his mouth with food.

Hermione didn't bother pulling out her schedule, but instead answered readily, "Double Potions, and then a free period."

"I'm not taking potions this year," Ron said. He sighed and reached into his pocket, bringing out his schedule. "I have a free period, then another free period. Want to go out to the quidditch pitch, we have all that time, and soon we'll have tons of homework."

"I have potions, Ron," Harry said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron sighed. "Of course you do." Then after having thought it out. "Wait, how did you get into potions? You couldn't have gotten more than an E."

"I've talked to Professor Snape and we've come to an agreement. I'll tell you about it later."

Harry and Hermione made their way to the dungeons as soon as the bell had rung, after making Ron promise that he would show Imy to the charms classroom.

"What do you think he's going to teach us?"

Harry shrugged. "Knowing Snape he's probably going to give us a test." Harry didn't know it at the moment but his statement happened to be true.

There were only two Slytherins in the N.E.W.T.s. Potions class. Those two happened to be Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Three Ravenclaws sat in the back of the room, they were Padma Patil, another girl that Harry had never seen before, and a boy whose name Harry had forgotten but who was on the Ravenclaw quidditch team. He, Hermione, and surprisingly Neville Longbottom were the only Gryffindors, and there was one Hufflepuff, Ernie McMillan. In total they were nine. It was going to be an interesting class.

Snape began the class by counting them and announcing to the class that there would be four groups, and that they had a minute to chose. Zabini who had been eyeing the nameless Ravenclaw girl quickly asked her to be his partner. Malfoy glared at him and tried to get him to see reason, but it wasn't working for the girl had readily agreed and she and Zabini were already talking to each other animatedly.

Before Harry could catch Hermione's eye and get her to be his partner she had joined Neville at a different table. He made to stand up and join them, having done the math and figured out that one of their groups would have three people, however, Ernie had already sat down next to Neville. The last two Ravenclaws had already taken a table near the front. Harry looked towards the other two groups, sitting closer to the back, and then to the other person without a partner. Draco Malfoy, too was looking at him, but it didn't seem to phase him that Harry would be his new partner.

"Potter!" Snape snapped.

Harry jumped and looked up.

"Move, Potter!"

Harry sighed and gathered his things and walked with slow deliberation to the table in the middle of the room. He dropped his things unceremoniously onto it and sat down. Snape was glaring at him, and Harry glared back.

"Now, that that is settled," Snape continued. "Today you will be taking a test."

Hermione shot Harry an incredulous look.

Harry shrugged and muttered to her as loud as he could, "I had nothing to do with it, even if I did predict it."

For some reason Malfoy found that amusing and let out a small laugh. Harry gave him a look before rolling his eyes.

"You cannot work with your new partner or partners, you cannot cheat, all instructions must be followed. This will be turned in by the end of the first period. I expect everyone to finish." With that said, Snape waved his wand at the air and parchment was before every student.

Harry sneaked a glance at Malfoy's parchment before beginning, and found that Malfoy's questions were not the same as his, or were at least not in the same order. Harry grinned to himself and then began. To his surprise he knew the answer to the first question, and the next. The third made him think a little harder, but after a moments consideration he knew what the answer could be, and so it went on.

Harry was not the first to finish the test, that honor went to Hermione, but he was the second, and he was pretty confident in himself that he had gotten at least eighty percent of them right, if not all.

It was strange, Harry thought, as he waited for the rest of them to finish, that Malfoy had said nothing snide to him, like he usually would have. He wondered if it was something to with his father being in Azkaban, or perhaps—Harry glanced at Malfoy's left arm—the fact that he possibly was a death eater.

"Time," Snape called out. Then with a wave of his wand all the parchments were on his desk in a neat stack. Neville somewhere behind Harry groaned and Harry knew the other Gryffindor had not done particularly well on that test.

When he turned to look at them, he noticed that Hermione was patting him on the shoulder and whispering comforting words to him. Harry turned back to Snape a second later and noticed that he had put instructions up on the board. The potion Harry was surprised to see, was the same one that had made him late for dinner. Inwardly he smiled to himself.

"I'll get the ingredients, Potter," Malfoy said. "Get the cauldron set up, and try not to melt it before we even begin."

Even though his comment meant to insult, Harry found that the voice of the Slytherin did not carry its usual malice but was almost teasing. Harry decided he was just imagining things and shook his head, and quickly began to prepare their cauldron, something he had been doing for the past week, and he could probably manage in his sleep.

"Here," Malfoy shoved a few things towards him. "Prepare those, I'll start doing the same with the rest."

Harry barely gave him a nod and began.

Harry was too focused, about fifteen minutes later, on the number of counterclockwise stirs on his cauldron that he did not hear the hissing sound coming from the potion behind him—but Malfoy did. Malfoy first alerted Snape and then turned to tell Harry to move just in case when it exploded, falling towards them, and before they could even possibly move it was covering them both and their own potion which proceeded to give a large gurgle before it flew out of the cauldron in some sort of green foam that seemed to cover the classroom. The last thing Harry saw before he fell unconscious was Draco Malfoy trying to grab his hand and pull him as far away from the foam as possible.

September 2, 1996

Harry woke up to yelling.

"How could that boy even be allowed in my class, Albus, he may have managed an E on the O.W.L., who knows how exactly, but he remains as brainless as ever. More than one students could have been injured had it not been for Potter and Malfoy's potion."

Dumbledore said nothing in response, as far as Harry could tell and then there were footsteps approaching his cot.

"He's awake, Professors," Madame Pomfrey announced to the entire room, looking down at Harry.

Someone else stepped forward and Harry could make out the blurry figure of Severus Snape.

"Glasses," Harry said, attempting to look for them on the table next to his bed where he usually found them when he woke up from his latest incident in the infirmary. However this time, he couldn't locate them there.

Snape reached into his robes, not saying a word, and brought out Harry's broken pair of glasses. He also took out his wand and waved at them, fixing them, before he handed them to Harry and turning to Madame Pomfrey.

"How is he?"

"Fine," Madame Pomfrey said. "He's just fine."

Snape nodded.

"It was lucky, I must say," the nurse continued. "That second potion that was splattered all over him really did more than I could have done for him by the time he arrived here."

Snape merely nodded again.

Harry looked around at all the adults around him and made to sit up, but the nurse pushed him back into his cot. Harry rolled his eyes. The woman and he were ever having a fight over his health whenever he wound up in her territory. He sighed and leaned back knowing it was useless to fight her. Instead he addressed the entire group.

"What happened?"

"Well," Snape said. "Longbottom once more caused an explosion during class. I must say I was surprised. I would have though with Granger next to him nothing could happen, but something did and the potion was not thrown towards them, but rather in your direction. Part of it landed into your own cauldron and the mixture of both potions caused a reaction. A strong healing potion, I myself have never seen the likeness of it, however, the potion turned into some sort of foam and covered the entire classroom including you which at the first touch healed you. I have taken samples of everything made and will be testing it. The healing potion could be a great addition to our side of the war."

Harry listened to all of this intently; surprised at everything he had missed during his first potions class.

"Was anyone else—"

"No," Madame Pomfrey answered before he could finish the question.

-

-

-

September 4, 1996

“I am so sorry, Harry!” Neville said the moment Harry stepped into the full common room.

Hermione ran to his side and gave him a scrutinizing gaze before throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I should have been paying attention to the potion, but I was talking to Ernie and Neville added the wrong ingredient, and then it all happened so fast. I'm so glad you're okay."

Harry patted her on the back and then pulled away. "It's alright. Dumbledore told me what happened."

Hermione nodded and sat down, pulling Harry to sit down as well. Ron who was already sitting gave Harry a grin and a pat on the back before he turned back to his game of chess with Seamus.

"Dumbledore only let us see you right after and then Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore himself pushed us out the door," Ron commented after having made his move.

"Considering everything else that's happened to you, this wasn't the worst and we're usually allowed to stay with you," Hermione said. She looked offended by the mere thought of her not being allowed to stay with him in the hospital wing.

"There is a lot more to it, Hermione. Not everything is the same, Voldemort is out there and everything is changing, everything and anything that happens to me has to be kept away from him at all costs, especially if something went completely wrong. At the time they didn't know if there was some sort of side effect. They couldn't have known with the two potions, for all that it matters, I could have lost my magic had there been a certain reaction with two of those ingredients, even if I did look okay."

Hermione grimaced. "You've changed, Harry," she said thoughtfully after a moment's pause during which Ron concentrated on his game. "Maybe it's all to do with Sirius' death, or maybe even something else, but you've changed."

Harry shrugged and stood up. "He's dead. Sirius is dead and it is all my fault. Voldemort is back and out in the open. I—when I started training for it, I began to see it as a more personal fight than ever because it is, and really I've begun to realize that I have to do this. I can't wait for someone else to. I have to do something about it all."

Hermione was giving him an odd look, but Harry said nothing. Instead he got up and left the common room altogether, walking out into the hallway. He didn't know where he wanted to go exactly, but he just didn't want to remain in the common room under Hermione's scrutinizing gaze. She had been looking at him oddly since he had entered the common room, and now he was wondering exactly why.

Harry didn't notice where he was going until he was in the dungeons and walking in the general direction of Snape's rooms. He didn't stop and instead continued on until he had reached the tapestry that led to the potions master's rooms. He pressed his hands at two specific points on the tapestry and then pushed the door open. He went into the sitting room and found his father there.

Snape was reading near the fireplace. He looked up and lifted his eyebrow at Harry when he spotted him. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," Harry said, truthfully.

Snape turned back to his books and then said, his eyes remaining of his book. "Could this have anything to do with your face?"

"What about it?" Harry asked.

"Go look at a mirror Po—Harry."

Harry nodded and walked to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror and gasped. It wasn't a big change, in fact, if he hadn't been looking for a change, he wouldn't have really found it. His face wasn't obviously different, it was just thinner, and his cheekbones were slightly more prominent, but it wasn't something that someone would notice right off the back.

"Why?" he asked when he once more entered the sitting room.

"You got hurt, that does lead to advanced changes, Harry. How is your magic?"

Harry hadn't done any magic all morning, so he brought out his wand at once and waved it at the book in Snape's hands. He meant only to levitate it, but it flew up to the ceiling. Harry barely stopped it from hitting it.

"Obviously that too has been affected."

They were having a relatively good conversation, Harry realized a moment later. They weren't at each others throats but they were also talking about nothing that was remotely important. Maybe Snape was in a good mood, and wasn't exactly bothered by his presence.

-

-

-

September 5, 1996

"Acid pops," said Harry, and the gargoyle leapt aside. He walked onto the spiral stone staircase and was carried in smooth circles up to the door. Once there, Harry knocked.

"Come in," said Dumbledore's voice.

"Good evening, sir," Harry said as he walked inside.

"Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down." Dumbledore gave him a smile.

Harry looked down at the desk and found himself looking at Dumbledore's hand. His eyes widened.

"Professor!" He said at once. "Your hand—what happened to it?"

"It is a story for a later time, Harry, but I have taken the glamour off for the night. I wanted to show you how much I trust you, my boy. This has been like this for a while."

Harry nodded, and tried to look away from it, but couldn't. He couldn't even imagine what could have happened to Dumbledore's hand to blacken like that.

Harry chose that moment to look around. The circular office looked just as it always had on any of his past visits; the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and giving off some sort of buzzing sound; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses slept in their frames without a care in the world that this meeting between the current headmaster and a student could be in any way important. The last thing Harry took a notice in was Fawkes, who stood on his perch, watching Harry with bright interest. From everything around him, Harry realized that he had no idea whatsoever what Dumbledore would be planning to do with him that evening.

Dumbledore suddenly turned businesslike. "So, Harry," he said. "You have been wondering, I'm sure, what I had planned during these lessons, as we called them last time we spoke of them?"

"Yes, sir."

"I said I needed to tell you a lot more. It is time that you know what prompted Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago. It is time you are given certain information."

Harry frowned in thought. He knew that he hadn't been told everything to do with the order at the end of the last term, but hadn't Dumbledore already told him about the prophecy and everything else? He didn't think he should accuse Dumbledore of lying to him, however, and with that thought in mind, said nothing.

"I told you everything I know, Harry," Dumbledore said as if he had read Harry's thoughts. "From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right," said Harry, when Dumbledore nodded he added, "does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me…survive?"

Dumbledore didn't answer, instead he got to his feet and walked around the desk. "It has a lot to do with it," he said as he opened the cabinet near the door, "and I certainly hope that it will help you to survive." Dumbledore returned to the desk and placed his penseive in front of Harry.

Harry couldn't help but remember his fourth year, or for that matter just the previous year. Invading both Dumbledore's and Snape's personal penseives had not been in his place, but he had done that regardless.

Harry shook himself and instead asked, "Where are we going, sir?"

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," Dumbledore said as he pulled, from his pocket, a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance. He pulled out his wand and tapped the bottle, the cork came off easily and Harry was once more reminded of Dumbledore's hand.

"Sir—how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again.

"I must ask you once more Harry to not ask me that question. I will tell you, just not now. This is not the moment for that story. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."

Harry nodded. He bent forward and plunged into the pensieve and the memories that awaited him.

-

-

-

Harry re-entered the Gryffindor common room two hours after curfew, though this had been the first time that he had any sort of proof that it had been because of Dumbledore that he was out late.

Ron and Hermione, as he had expected were waiting up for him, and Harry wondered if he should tell them about the prophecy. Dumbledore had told him that it would be alright for him to tell them, that his friends were trustworthy, and he knew he had to tell them something, and he did plan on sharing Voldemort's past, but the prophecy? Did he want his friends to know that there was a reason he had lost his parents, that Voldemort had followed the words of a prophecy?

Hermione questioned him at once, "What happened? What did he want to talk to you about?"

"Well," Harry said, sitting down. "He wanted to tell me more about Voldemort, to tell me about his past, I guess."

"Oh, really!" Hermione seemed to think it was a great idea. "What did he tell you?"

Harry laughed. "We went into the memory of this guy that worked in the ministry, a muggle-born. His name was Bob Ogden, anyway, he was in Little Hangleton looking for Morfin Gaunt to tell him that he was being summoned to the ministry for a trial because he had used magic on a muggle.

"See the Gaunts were the last ones alive from the Slytherin line, and they were proud and all that stuff at least Marvolo and Morfin were. Marvolo was Morfin's father. The person that really interested me though was Merope. She was Morfin's sister. She was practically a squib according to her family and they treated her terribly for it which is why she couldn't use her magic. After Ogden knocked on the door and was allowed in, the Gaunts all had a disagreement about Merope's love for Tom Riddle. Then after an attempt on Merope's life Ogden was thrown out. That was the end of the memory. By the end there, we got to see Tom Riddle."

"Voldemort's father, you mean?" Ron asked.

"Yes," said Harry. "Dumbledore told me that Morfin and Marvolo were sent to Azkaban. He said it was during this time that Merope decided she needed to have Tom. He likes to think that she used some sort of love potion on him. Well, he got her pregnant, and then left her when she couldn't bear to keep him on the potion. Of course she must have died soon after giving birth because he hated his mother and was raised at an orphanage."

Hermione looked thoughtfully at Harry. "It's really interesting stuff. I wonder—" she trailed off.

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry laughed.

"Well," Hermione said with slight hesitation. "He's like Harry isn't he? At least I think Dumbledore may want you to understand that it isn't that he is evil because of the way he grew up, but the choices he made about everything. Last year you said you felt as if you were evil, I told you, you weren't, maybe this is Dumbledore's way of telling you that it is in everything that you do that he doesn't that you and he are different."

Harry said nothing to Hermione's outlook to things, instead he nodded silently. She had a point, but he knew that there was more to the memory than just showing Harry that he wasn't evil. Dumbledore after all had said that there was something about them that had to do with the prophecy.

-

-

-

September 6, 1996

"Enter," Severus called. He was sitting behind his desk a book open in front of him.

Draco Malfoy opened the door cautiously. "Are you busy, Severus?" He asked.

His godfather shook his head. "What can I help you with, Draco?" Severus asked. He marked the page of his book and closed it.

Draco snorted. "You know very well what you have to help me with, don't you. I rather get it over with quickly, not have to worry about it at all."

Severus noticed at once that Draco was not being completely truthful. He was good at hiding his feelings, a Malfoy trait, but Severus was better at noticing when someone was trying to hide something, and he could tell at once that Draco didn't want to kill Dumbledore.

"Tell me, Draco, do you really want to kill the headmaster?"

"What difference does that make?" Draco asked. "Even if I didn't want to, one of us would have to do it. If the dark lord didn't see to that, then it was my mother that did. She made you swear it under the unbreakable vow, didn't she?"

Severus nodded. "It does change things, however. Killing someone will haunt you for the rest of your life, Draco, you do not want that. I do not want that for you."

Draco snorted again, but said nothing.

There was a pause.

"Fine," Draco said. "I don't want to kill him. I want to get out of this entire business. I don’t want to wind up in Azkaban like my father or dead for betraying him, and I see no way out."

Severus nodded thoughtfully and didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Draco, I am not sure if trusting you is the right thing to do,” Severus said. “Your father has an uncanny ability to do the things that always benefit him and his family. I fear you share his selfishness this way.”

“I am not my father,” Draco said.

Severus lifted an eyebrow, and then, “But you are a Slytherin.”

“So are you,” Draco said at once.

Severus chuckled and didn’t answer him. Instead he changed the subject. “I don’t want you to do anything, Draco, I want you to ignore your task for as long as possible.”

Draco shook his head. “My mother,” he whispered.

“Is able to take care of herself,” Severus finished for him, “and as to that father of yours, he is safer in Azkaban than anywhere else.”

Draco glared at him. “How can you say that when you’re the one that put him there!”

“I was not,” Severus said. “Your father put himself there by his stupidity. He should not have approached me like that, I did not tell the Dark Lord, as much as you wish to see it that way, however, he did see most of that conversation through Nagini. Do not blame me where I did nothing.”

Draco seemed to take all of it in. Severus watched the blond as he sat with a pensive look on his face, looking down at his hands. Suddenly he looked up.

“Are you a spy for the order?” He asked.

Severus didn’t know how to answer that. To say yes and then get his cover blown was not what he wanted to do, but he needed Draco to trust him, and if telling Draco where his loyalties lied would help, then he would have to.

“I don’t trust you enough, Draco, to tell you where my loyalties lie.”

Draco nodded as if he had expected that. “Then I will continue with my own plans,” he said.

-

-

-

September 7, 1996

His first lesson with his father was not something that Harry was looking forward to, especially since the moment he had mentioned that he had to go to remedial potions that night, Hermione had given him a suspicious glare, while Ron had all but wondered why he was even bothering before changing the subject to quidditch.

“Is it occlumency?” Hermione asked in a whisper while Ron rambled on about some new quidditch move he had heard about.

“No, Hermione, remedial potions,” Harry said with a sigh. “I am not lying to you. I need to do this in order to remain in the class and become an auror.”

Hermione gave a small huff and turned away, pulling out her transfiguration book.

Harry sighed. It would be hard, he had realized, to keep everything secret when Hermione was always after his case, but as soon as it was ten minutes to eight, Harry stood up, waved at his friends and left the common room.

When he entered Snape’s rooms a moment later, Harry noticed at once that Snape was not in his quarters, but he had specifically told Harry to meet him there at eight through Remus. Harry sighed and walked to his room. He had kept a number of his things within this room, clothes that he knew he wouldn’t use throughout winter, books from years previous, and small knick knacks that he had accumulated throughout the years. As he walked to his room, however, he spotted a book sitting on the coffee table. He picked up the rather worn object and tried to make out the title, but couldn’t. He opened the book and found the title of the book.

Advanced Potion-Making

Harry flipped through a couple of pages and found that the entire book was scribbled on in small, cramped handwriting. Handwriting that looked almost familiar but that Harry just couldn’t place. He stopped at the potion that he knew they would be brewing sometime in the next few weeks, the Draught of the Living Dead, and decided that he would try to ignore the fact that the entire page was covered in writing and try to go over the potion while he had the time, however, as he began to read he noticed at once that half of the things written on the margins were in fact alternate instructions. As he read through the instructions he found a number of alterations that for some reason Harry couldn’t help but feel could help him with the potions. Trying to remember the ones that looked most important; crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting and, add clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stirHarry closed the book. He made to put it back on the table, wondering if that had been Snape’s potions book when it fell to the floor.

Harry bent down to pick it up, as he did, he saw something scribbled in the bottom of the back cover in the same handwriting.

This book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince

September 28, 1996

Harry had a perfect system going for him. While he hadn't had a meeting with Dumbledore since the first one at the beginning of September, he had had at least six lessons with his father which had actually taught him a lot more than he had ever wanted to know about the dark arts which had actually included the use of spells that Harry had not been in particular happy to explore. His apprenticeship with Remus while also time consuming was fun, and he had found that he enjoyed spending time with the werewolf whom nearly always had chocolate on his person and was always offering it to Harry, but Harry would never say that he only liked Remus because of his chocolate, but rather the knowledge on the history of the dark arts that Remus was always giving him in snippets throughout their grading of papers or lesson planning. However, with homework, and most of his nights spent with either Snape or Remus, Harry had found that he rarely had time to do anything else, and of course just as he realized that the quidditch team began to pester him about quidditch try outs and practices. It wasn't even just the quidditch team, mostly lead on by Ron, but other students that wished to be on the team. Harry was plain tired of it. He didn't even want to try and fit everything into the planner that Hermione had given him when she realized that he needed it and was willing to use it. He was grateful for the planner, and it was nearly never without him, but he hated the very idea of actually planning out what he was going to do about quidditch as much as he was itching to get onto a broom himself.

Harry woke up on a dark Thursday morning with the decision to catch up to his head of house and ask her when the pitch was open so he could conduct the try-outs. As he dressed and gathered the books he would need for the day and shrunk them with a spell Snape had taught him just the week before when Snape had handed a number of books to read which he hadn't even glanced at, Harry noticed that he was once more the first one awake, which had been happening a lot in the past few weeks.

When Harry stepped into the common room the first thing he noticed was that someone was fast asleep on the sofa and covered up with some sort of blue blanket. Not knowing who it was or why someone would fall asleep in the common room, Harry lifted the blanked slightly to see whoever it was and found himself looking at Imogen Copperfield.

"Imy," he whispered and shook her shoulder.

She shot up at once, alarmed and looked at Harry with wide eyes before she took in her surroundings and she sighed and settled herself against the sofa once more.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked softly. "Why are you down here?"

She blushed a deep crimson. "I don't know," she muttered after a pause. She shifted slightly and Harry noticed that she was nervously wringing her hands.

Harry sighed. "You don't have to tell me," Harry offered. "I just do not want you to be in any sort of trouble that I could help you with. You're like a little sister to me, and I really would like to help."

Imy hugged him and then ran towards the girls' staircase. She turned before going up the stairs. "I appreciate it, Harry, I really do, but I want to deal with this on my own."

Harry nodded. "I'll be here if you need me."

She grinned and then went up the stairs.

-

-

-

Harry caught up to his transfiguration professor after lunch, right before his free period, as he headed to Remus’ classroom.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said the moment she saw him. “Anything I could help you with?”

Harry nodded, quickly. “I was wondering when the quidditch pitch would be available so I could hold try-outs, it’s just everyone’s been pestering me about it.”

Professor McGonagall smiled at him. “I don’t have the schedule on my person, obviously, but I am almost sure that it is free this Saturday if you wish to use it then. I will inform you of all the possible dates at dinner.”

Harry nodded.

“I do believe you have somewhere to be, now, don’t you, Potter?”

Harry grinned. “Yes. I’ll see you later, Professor.”

McGonagall nodded and waved him off.

Harry made his way to the third floor at an almost leisurely pace. Remus wouldn’t mind him being late and he didn’t exactly feel like dealing with all the third year Slytherins that day considering what had happened the week before when one had even thrown a quill at his forehead. Remus had of course put a stop to it, but none of them had any sort of respect for him.

When Harry entered the classroom Remus was giving the class a lecture. He gave Harry a nod and continued talking to the class. When Harry approached him he motioned to the desk where Harry found a number of essays. He sighed but decided that marking essays was much easier than to actually attempt to help the class. It was this, that he hated from the apprenticeship, that work he had to put into it, but truth be told he was gaining quite a bit of knowledge not only on teaching but on a lot of defensive tactics used in the past.

-

-

-

"Potter," Malfoy all but growled when Harry took his seat next to him.

Harry ignored Draco Malfoy, as he had tended to do in the past few weeks of Draco's ever going bad mood. At first he had attempted to be civil to the other boy, but really he thought it was too much work. So as he began pulling together the ingredients for their potion, remembering the book he had found in Snape's quarters and the extra instructions they had given him for this potion.

Malfoy begun to prepare the cauldron, and the moment he was done began to cut the valerian roots at a fast pace. Seeing as Malfoy was doing that, he pulled the sopophorous bean towards him and instead of cutting them, decided he would follow the instructions of the Half-Blood Prince. He looked up to see Malfoy put the roots in the cauldron and nodded to himself as he crushed the bean with the flat side of his silver dagger. He was amazed at the amount of juice that the shriveled bean exuded, but he quickly scooped it all and put it into the cauldron. To his surprise the potion turned the shade of lilac described in the book. This had never happened to him before, he'd never gotten the potion exactly like the book described it.

Malfoy made to put the stirring rod in, but Harry took it from him, and began to stir, seven counterclockwise, one clockwise. Malfoy tried to take the stirring rob from him at the clockwise stir, but Harry managed to hold him off, and then Malfoy gaped at the pale pink shade that the potion had turned.

"But—but it's…huh?" Malfoy stuttered looking from the potion to Harry who was still stirring.

Harry grinned.

"How are you doing that! You're nearly always terrible at potions and then today you just—" he trailed off with some sort of amazement.

"Time is up," Snape announced a moment later. "Bottle up your potions and bring them up to the desk."

Harry quickly bottled up his and Malfoy's potion and labeled it with his names. Malfoy had begun cleaning up, but Harry could tell that he was still just as curious as to how Harry had managed to make their potion perfect. When Harry stepped up to Snape's desk, the first one there seeing as the rest of the class was either cleaning up or attempting to make their potion better, when Harry passed Hermione's potion he was almost happy to note that his looked just a tad bit better.

Snape's eyebrows rose when he saw Harry's potion, and then he gave Harry a strange look. "How did you manage this?" He asked.

Harry didn't get a chance to answer seeing as Neville had walked their way to hand in his, Hermione's, and Ernie's potion.

"Potter, stay after class," Snape said instead while giving Harry a glare that Harry knew was for the most part fake.

When he returned to his and Malfoy's work station, Malfoy had finished cleaning up and was gathering his things.

"How did you do it?" Malfoy asked again.

"Just got lucky, I guess," Harry said.

Malfoy scoffed, just as they were dismissed. He walked out of the classroom with the rest of the class, but Harry remained behind. Hermione made to wait for him, but he waved her off. She frowned at him but said nothing as she left, even though Harry knew she would be pestering him later.

"Muffliato," Snape said once the door was closed and he motioned to Harry to come closer.

"What did you do to that potion, Harry?"

Harry didn't know if he should mention the book he had found in his father's quarters that had given him better instructions for the potion than the actual book had. He didn't want Snape to think that he had been looking through his things, which would be undoubtedly what Snape would think if the book was ever mentioned.

"It was an accident," Harry said at last. "I was cutting the sopophorous bean and my dagger sort of slipped and I sort of crushed it. It brought out more juice than I had expected and when I put it in, it was the right color."

"Lilac?" Snape asked. "Then, what did you do?"

"I stirred it like the book said."

Snape said nothing. "Go ahead, you're dismissed,"

Harry made to leave, but Snape suddenly stopped him and reached into his robes pocket. "Dumbledore gave me a note for you. He said you would be missing the next lesson with me in order for you to go to him."

Harry took the note that Snape was offering him. "Alright," he said.

-

-

-

September 30, 1996

As it turned out, the quidditch pitch was open that Saturday and once Ron had heard that Harry had been considering holding tryouts that day, Harry could not get out of it, even if he had had to meet with Dumbledore. Hermione had rolled her eyes at Ron, and Ginny who was sitting with them had been almost as excited as Ron was. Within minutes, the news had spread throughout the Gryffindor table, and everyone that was interested in joining the team or that was on the team had begun to talk about it.

On Saturday morning Harry woke up earlier than even his usual. For a moment he considered going back to sleep, but after a moment's hesitation he got out of bed and dressed before walking to the window next to his bed. He could see Hagrid's hut from his vantage point and felt a pang when he realized that he hadn't once gone to see Hagrid since the beginning of the school year. He would go today, he promised himself, after quidditch tryouts, but even he couldn't see that happening.

Half an hour later when Harry walked into the empty common room with one of the many books that Snape had given him to read, whose cover he had charmed to look as his Charms textbook, Harry wondered exactly why so many people have become interested in quidditch this year. He was slightly nervous at the thought of confronting this first hurdle of his captaincy. Instead of worrying about that, though, Harry tried to concentrate on his book.

Later that morning during breakfast when he expressed his fears to Hermione she laughed. "Come on, Harry," she said sounding impatient. "It's not exactly quidditch that's become popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."

Ron chocked on a piece of his toast at her words, and Harry clapped him on his back. Ron gave Harry a thankful look, but this did not stop him from shoveling more food into his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued, "Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One'—well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He hated the new title, not that it was better than The-Boy-Who-Lived. What bothered him most about it was just how close it was to the truth and he hated thinking about the prophecy. While Harry frowned over the wizarding world's choice of titles for him, Hermione had continued and Harry only managed to hear the end of her tirade.

"…still see the marks on the back of you hand where that evil woman made you write with you own blood, but you stick to your story anyway, and it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either."

He had grown taller, but he would not tell Hermione that it was probably due to the spell that had been cast on him, and truthfully told Hermione did have a point that he was an interesting subject for other people to speculate if he was put like Hermione had just described him. He still didn't like it.

When the mail arrived, Hermione was dissuaded from continuing on with the topic of everyone's interest on Harry Potter. Instead Hermione had taken the daily prophet and begun to peruse it.

"Stan Shunpike's been arrested," Hermione said suddenly.

Harry frowned. "But he's…he can't be a death eater."

Hermione shrugged and burrowed her nose more in the paper while Harry thought about the conductor of the Knight Bus.

"Maybe he was under the imperius," Ron offered.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "He was arrested at a pub for talking about it, I doubt he would have done that if he had been under the imperius."

"Maybe he was trying to impress someone," Ron offered, "wasn't he the one that was trying to impress those veela by telling them that he was going to become the minister of magic."

Harry nodded. "Maybe," he relented.

Hermione folded up the paper and put it in her bag. "They're trying to look as if they're doing something," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe that's all, I mean to say everyone's terrified—the Patil twins' parents want them to go home. And Eloise Midgen has already been withdrawn. Her father picked her up last night."

"What!" Ron said, goggling at Hermione. "But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! We've got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, and we’ve got Dumbledore!"

Hermione shook her head silently. "I don't think we have him all the time. Haven't you noticed, his chair is nearly always empty, and when he is here he looks tired as if he hasn't gotten any proper sleep in days."

Harry looked up at the staff table. Dumbledore's chair was indeed empty. Now Harry came to think of it, he hadn’t seen Dumbledore since their private lesson.

"I think he's left the school to do something with the Order," Hermione said in a low voice. "I mean…it's all looking serious isn't it?"

Harry said nothing to Hermione's assessment, after all how could he not know it was serious when he had lost so many people to Voldemort's cause already, and when the eminent end of this war laid in his hands and his ability to kill his mom's murderer.

-

-

-

When Harry approached the quidditch pitch after breakfast, he was sure that more than half of Gryffindor had turned up, from the nervous looking first years, to the menacing looking seventh years, and those in the grades in between.

After some consideration of where to start, Harry decided on a basic test, separating them all into groups of tens and making them fly once around the pitch. This turned out to be a good decision. The first group consisted of first years and it was clear to him that they had never flown before. The second group was not much better seeing as it consisted of a number of girls who giggled and batted their eyelashes Harry's way and didn't even bother to get on a broomstick. Harry told them to leave almost at once. They followed his instruction without complaint, almost cheerfully. The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks, and fifth group was made up of Hufflepuffs, Harry didn't know if he could handle any more of the nonsense that came with being Harry Potter and the quidditch captain. Maybe he should just change his name to Snape and hope his appearance changed drastically and then he could be just another student, normal. He rolled his eyes at himself.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Gryffindor," roared Harry, "leave now, please!"

After a pause a couple of Ravenclaws left the pitch, followed by one more Hufflepuff.

After two hours during which more chaos occurred and Harry heavily contemplated giving his captain badge to Ron, but finally after those two hours he had three chasers. Katie Bell who had been on the team since Harry had joined but who had insisted she try out in case someone else was better than her, Ginny Weasley who had outflown all the competition and made seventeen goals to boot and whom Harry had to admit was a better chaser than a seeker, and Demelza Robins, a new find that was particularly good at dodging bludgers. Complaining ensued within a moment of his final decision being announced, and Harry almost shouted himself hoarse as he bellowed at the rejected chasers to move and allow him to continue on with the tryouts.

The Beaters were easier to pick, mostly because only two of them showed even the small amount of ability at hitting the bludgers, and while neither had the old brilliance of Fred and George they did have good aim. By the time that the tryouts for the beaters was finished, Harry wanted nothing more than to just leave the quidditch pitch behind him, and to hide out if nowhere else, his father’s quarters. What bothered him more than anything was the crowd that had congregated to watch the tryouts had grown bigger as the morning went on and now it was larger than ever. He glanced nervously at Ron and wondered just how well his friend would do with all the spectators.

Most of the applicants for keeper couldn’t save more than two goals, and Harry was getting impatient until a fourth year Harry didn’t recognize was up and he saved all but the last penalty and Harry had a feeling that Ron who was last to try out would not do as well, but to Harry’s surprise Ron saved all of them, and he would continue to be the keeper, if only he could keep his temper during a game everything would work out.

There were a couple more complainers, some claiming that Harry had chosen his team because of his friendship with some of them, but that hadn’t even entered his mind, even if he had wanted Ron to become the keeper.

“You did brilliant, Ron!” Someone said coming upon the new quidditch pitch.

Harry turned, expecting Hermione, but instead Lavender was behind him and she was grinning up at Ron who smiled back at her, but seemed to be looking for someone else in the crowd of people congratulating the newly formed quidditch team. Harry sighed as the tryouts had come to an end, and tried to listen to Ron describing in detail how he had saved every penalty, however, Harry wasn’t in the mood to listen to Ron ramble on about quidditch, he was so tired of anything to do with quidditch that he would have rather been inside serving detention with filch, and that was saying something.

“Come on, you two,” Hermione said, ignoring Ron. “You wanted to see Hagrid, right, Harry?”

Harry nodded and without one look back at the quidditch pitch walked determinedly after Hermione towards Hagrid’s hut. Ron followed after them, after saying goodbye to Lavender and giving Hermione an odd look that Hermione didn’t seem to notice. Harry noticed it, however and raised an eyebrow in Ron’s direction, but other than frowning Ron said and did nothing to explain his odd behavior.

“Buckbeak,” Harry breathed when he saw the familiar hippogriff tied in front of Hagrid’s hut. He bowed to him and then moved closer, reaching for him. “You miss him, don’t you,” he whispered to the creature. “I do too, but you’re happy here aren’t you, with Hagrid.”

He moved away from him when he heard the door to the hut open, and then Hagrid was looking towards them.

“Finally come to see me, eh,” said the half-giant.

“I’ve been really busy, Hagrid, you know that. I did mean to come see you before Hogwarts started when I first arrived, but tons of things were going on, and my schedule needed to be fixed and everything else. And then classes have begun, and you don’t even know half of what I’m doing now.”

Hagrid snorted. “Too busy to even remember your old friend.”

Harry sighed. “It isn’t like that.”

Hagrid said nothing.

“We’ve really missed you, Hagrid, now come on, tell us about what you’re torturing your classes with.”

Ron gave her a look.

Hagrid smiled a little at her and began talking about his latest magical creature. Harry grinned at him and soon they were inside Hagrid’s hut and Harry was attempting to feed Fang his rock cake while sipping at his tea. It was good to have something remotely normal to fall back on after all the strange things that had gone on around him since the beginning of the summer, and yet as soon as that thought crossed his mind Harry frowned, but he couldn’t tell them anything. He couldn’t share his latest news that Snape was his father, he couldn’t tell them that what the papers were saying was right and that he was “The Chosen One” and he couldn’t very well inform them of what he was really doing with Snape, much less that Lucius was a spy for the order, or that he had a feeling there was much more to Dumbledore’s blackened hand. He hadn’t even told them that Dumbledore had shared that with him.

“Harry,” he heard Hermione calling his name. “Harry? Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, fine,” Harry said, but Hermione frowned at him unconvincingly.

He smiled reassuringly at her, but knew that Hermione wouldn’t buy it, but he couldn’t tell her anything.

“So, what are those, Hagrid?” Harry asked instead pointing to a barrel full of what looked like foot-long maggots, slimy, white, and writhing.

“Jus’ giant grubs, they’re um…to feed…Aragog…” He broke off into a sob.

Hermione patted his arm.

“He’s…he’s dying,” Hagrid said, “and there’s nothing I can do.”

October 1, 1996

The fire turned green just as Harry stepped out of the memory. Snape stepped out and stumbled into the chair closest to the fire. Harry rushed to his side at once and helped him sit down. Snape said nothing, but he grunted.

Dumbledore exited the penseive calmly and didn't seem to notice Snape until Harry alerted the headmaster by pulling at his robes' sleeve, and then Dumbledore was kneeling next to Snape in a more worried way than Harry had ever seen him before.

"Did you do it?" Dumbledore asked frantically. "Did you destroy it?"

Snape couldn't answer the questions as far as Harry could see and was instead grasping his chair's arm rest so hard his knuckles had turned white, and Harry knew at once that Snape was in pain though he would never show it to them.

"Professor, he needs to go to the hospital wing," Harry said immediately.

Dumbledore seemed to regain himself and he nodded walking to the fire. He pulled out a box of floo powder and threw some in before calling for the infirmary. Harry in the meanwhile was looking at Snape's too pale face and trying to determine just how bad Snape was.

Suddenly madam Pomfrey was there and she was taking Snape out of the headmaster's office. Harry made to follow but Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No one knows what he is to you. If anyone were to see you, what he has suffered tonight would have been in vain."

Harry nodded and turned back to Dumbledore. "Where was he?" Harry asked the moment he was once more facing the headmaster. "Was it a death eater meeting?"

Dumbledore didn't answer. Instead he changed the subject. "This memory was very important," Dumbledore said. "You noticed perhaps that Tom liked to keep mementos, something that reminded him of the things he did."

"The bullying, you mean?" Harry frowned distastefully.

"That and anything else that he did which he was proud of," Dumbledore said.

Harry barely nodded in a distracted haze.

"It is important, Harry, to also notice that even then he had no friends."

Harry nodded again.

"Many of his followers call themselves his most trusted, the ones that alone understand him, but they did not. Voldemort works alone. He trusts no one. None of them understand him. He's always been very self dependent."

Harry nodded again.

Dumbledore stood up. "Do you wish to see your father?" He asked as if finally noticing that Harry was distracted.

Harry didn’t know if he should nod or not. Snape wouldn't want him to go see him, he decided at last. He shook his head at Dumbledore. "Somebody could see me. I'll go to my common room."

Dumbledore gave him a piecing stare but nodded and watched as Harry headed to the door, but Harry stopped once more as if he wanted to say something and then shook his head and walked out of the headmaster's office.

For a moment as he stood in front of the gargoyle he considered heading to the hospital wing anyway, but shaking the thought from his mind he walked towards the Gryffindor common room. He was worried, he would admit that, but he knew that he would have been worried about anyone that was hurt because of order business, if that was what it had been.

When he walked into the common room he found Hermione sitting by the fire with a large book open in front of her.

"Harry!" She exclaimed and closed her book without marking her place. "What did he show you tonight?" She asked without a moment's pause.

"First we saw Burke, you know from that shop in Knockturn Alley that I wound up in my first time using the floo, anyways we saw him talk about getting a great deal on Merope's necklace. Then Dumbledore took me into one of his own memories. It was of when Dumbledore went to tell Tom about the wizarding world at the orphanage he lived in," Harry said absentmindedly.

Hermione frowned and looked almost disappointed. "Nothing really interesting, then; nothing about the order," she said.

Harry barely nodded while his thoughts surrounded Snape in the infirmary.

Hermione seemed to notice that he wasn't really there and looked at him worriedly.

"Did something else happen?" She asked. "During the lessons, I mean."

Harry shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, and then added as an afterthought, "it just gave me a lot to think about."

"You aren't like him, Harry, far from it," Hermione said.

Harry nodded once again and began making his way to his dorm. He ignored Hermione's gaze as he walked up the stairs.

The first thing Harry did was go to his trunk so he could withdraw his two most priced possessions; his fath—James' cloak, and the marauders' map. He set the cloak down on top of his bed and picked up the unwritten piece of parchment which he tapped with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he muttered and watched as words began to form on the map. He opened it quickly and found without trouble, the Gryffindor tower. Hermione was still in the common room, but as far as he could see everyone else was asleep. He would just have to wait for Hermione to go to bed and then he could sneak down to see Snape. He could hardly believe that he was planning to sneak down to see Snape, even if the man was his father. It was just such an odd thing to even contemplate doing.

He sat down on his bed but left the map open as he pulled out the second book of the pile Snape had given him on the dark arts, which had actually turned out to be an interesting subject, even though he could see the bad side to the spells that were described in such gory detail within the books.

He had just gotten through twenty pages when he noticed that Hermione was no longer in the common room. He allowed himself a smile and then after putting his book back in his trunk and making sure that the cloak covered every part of him, Harry walked back into the common room and walked to the portrait of the fat lady, hoping that she wouldn't notice his leaving.

Once out in the corridor, he focused on the map once more, in search of any patrolling teachers. He found McGonagall entering her office, and Filch was in the dungeons. Mrs. Norris was near the Astronomy tower and it appeared that everything was clear for him to go down to the hospital wing. He checked there next and found only Snape in a cot and Madame Pomfrey nowhere to be seen.

As he shuffled his feet forward to the stairs, his eyes remained on the map, looking for anything that he could have possibly missed, and then he suddenly stopped.

On the map in the corridor he was standing, right by the stairs Harry Snape stood, instead of Harry Potter. As the shock wore off Harry became glad to have become aware of the fact that the map no longer regarded him as Harry Potter. He wondered why the sudden change but at the same time was glad that he was using the map rather than finding out the change with his friends. For a minute he imagined how Ron would take the news and shuddered. That was why he wasn't telling them, even though he knew that some time they would find out. Now, all he needed was a good excuse for not using the map with them ever again. Deciding to put that train of thought away, Harry continued down the stairs and to the hospital wing.

-

-

-

Snape was just as pale as when Harry had seen him last in the headmaster's office, and he was fast asleep. Harry moved as close as he dared to the cot where Snape slept and looked down at the Potions master, wondering just what had happened to him. It couldn't have been a meeting, but then again he didn't always feel his scar burn when Voldemort called his death eaters. But Dumbledore's reaction when Snape had stepped into the room and made it somewhat clear that Dumbledore had sent Snape on a mission, and the mission had become much more important to Dumbledore than Snape himself. Harry sighed and moved closer. What had been so important that it mattered more than a human being? Harry pulled out the nearest chair and settled down next to his father. His father. This man was his father and even though the information had been lost to them until quite recently, it didn't change the fact that Severus Snape was his father, and that Snape was lying in the hospital wing, hurt.

Harry turned away from Snape for a moment and instead surveyed the grounds that he could barely make out in the dark. He noticed a slight movement out there and stood up, pressing his face against the window, looking for any sign of anyone being outside. He saw her then, pacing right outside the castle as if she was waiting for someone. He couldn't tell who it was, so sat down and again and pulled the map out and looked for her on it. He noticed the dot on the grounds at once. Nymphadora Tonks it read, and then Harry noticed another dot walking towards her. Remus Lupin.

Harry once more put the map away, but did not go back to look out the window. Instead his eyes focused on his father who seemed to have a regained some of his color.

Harry shifted in his chair. It was awkward even with Snape unconscious. He stood up, figuring that he at least knew Snape was alright, not that he had expected otherwise, and he could head back up to bed, but before he could he heard the door open. He quickly threw the cloak over his head and somehow managed to not get seen by whoever it was that had entered the hospital wing.

"He's alright, isn't he?" Tonks said.

"Yes. Albus said he would be fine. He just needs rest."

Harry listened to them move about the room, and heard Tonks take the chair he had been previously using. He pressed himself against the wall, hoping that Remus wouldn't notice his presence, and then he watched as the two of them sat with Snape for a few minutes before Tonks stood up.

"I have to leave. Tell him he was foolish to do what he did."

Remus nodded.

"You're too brave, Severus," Remus said to the sleeping potions master. "You had only one task. One that none of us are even aware of, but look at what you did."

Harry frowned to himself, wondering when he would be able to leave. He hoped that Remus left soon, but as his luck would have it, ten minutes later when Remus stood up to leave, Snape groaned and opened his eyes, looking disoriented, and within a minute Remus was next to him.

"Severus," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Snape said. "Could you pass me the green potion over on that table?"

Remus silently did as he was told and handed it to Snape, who downed it without a moment's pause.

"Nymphadora said to tell you that what you did was foolish."

Snape snorted and then added, "I will do anything it takes for the order."

"Even get yourself killed," Remus shot back.

Harry shifted slightly on the wall as Remus took a deep breath and waited for Snape to say something.

"It is the life of a spy."

Remus scoffed. "The life of a spy," He said laughing. "This had nothing to do with you being a spy, and you know it."

Snape nodded, but added, "but I will not hesitate to sacrifice myself if that is what it takes."

Remus left a few minutes later after his short conversation with Snape who seemed to be back to his normal self, and who, to Harry's annoyance had not spoken about what he had been doing when he got hurt, though now Harry was quite sure that it had something to do with the order considering all the hints that had been given.

"Come out, Potter," Snape said as soon as Remus had left and the fall of his footsteps could no longer be heard.

Harry sheepishly took his cloak off and walked closer to the bed. "Sorry," he muttered.

Snape found the entire thing amusing, for some reason as he motioned for Harry to sit. Harry sunk down into the chair.

"Albus said you were quite worried," Snape said.

"I just wanted to know you would be alright. Too many people have died already." He fought the urge to stand up and flee after saying that.

Snape lifted his left eyebrow and continued, "He also said you did not want to see me when he asked you. Yet here you are."

"I couldn't handle it later, not knowing…"

Snape interrupted him, "not knowing what I was doing. How I got hurt?"

"No—yes. I don't know, but I did need to know you were alright."

Snape snorted as if the very thought of Harry caring what happened to him was absurd—laughable.

Harry sighed and braced himself for the words he was going to say next.

"You're my father."

Snape's eyes widened in surprise and Harry laughed.

"I think neither of us have really realized it," Harry said after a pause.

Snape coughed.

Harry stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. It's late, I should head up to bed."

Snape said nothing as Harry once more covered himself with the cloak and he walked out of the room. Had Harry remained behind for just a moment longer he would have heard a sigh and Snape mutter something.

-

-

-

October 2, 1996

Harry woke up that morning to Ron jumping around the room on one foot while he clutched his other foot and cursed like a sailor. Seamus was already laughing from his own bed, but both Dean and Neville were still sleeping.

"He just came in, tip-toeing into the room," Seamus explained to Harry. "Wonder what he was up to last night. Anyhow, he was trying to enter unnoticed, but obviously he hit his big toe against the trunk. I told him to put a numbing charm on it, but I don't think he knows it and I can't quite get the wand movements right. I might have made it worse."

Harry laughed. Seamus was always doing that, even though he had gotten better than during their first year when he was blowing everything up, or at least putting fire to it.

Drawing his wand from under his pillow Harry waved it in the direction of Ron's feet and thought hard about the spell. He grinned when Ron stopped rubbing at his big toe. He hadn't been sure if he would get it right with his attempt at making the spell non verbal, but lately under the tutelage of his father, he had begun to try and only use non verbal spells.

"Thank you, Harry," Ron said. "You're going to have to teach me that one."

Harry grinned, getting up and out of bed. "Where were you?"

Ron flushed a deep red. "Lavender came to see me late last night," Ron said. "You weren't in here yourself. Did Dumbledore keep you up that long?"

Harry nodded for lack of something better to say as he begun to dress. Ron waited for him and once Harry had gathered his books and shrunk them, he and Ron made their way into the common room.

"I can't feel my toes," Ron said in complaint to Harry.

Harry laughed. "That was what the spell was for, Ron. Speaking of the spell, what were you and Lavender doing?"

Ron blushed again and muttered something that Harry didn't hear.

"What was that?"

"Snogging," Ron admitted embarrassed.

Harry laughed at his friend. "And?" he decided to ask the still red Ron.

"It was great," Ron said in a small voice.

Harry laughed again, remembering when he had been questioned by his friends the year previous after one of the DA meetings when he and Cho had kissed under the mistletoe. It had been embarrassing to discuss it with them, but Hermione had been helpful at least, even if Ron had teased him endlessly about it afterwards.

Hermione was in the common room waiting for them when they came down from their dorm. She put away her books before following them to the great hall for breakfast. None of them said anything, Ron still holding a slight tint of red on his cheeks, and Harry still trying to figure out what Snape had been doing to get him in the hospital wing. Hermione was still trying to absorb as much as she could from the books in her light-weight bag.

"Did you get a chance to study, Harry?" Hermione asked as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table.

Harry shrugged. "Not, really, but I think I'll do okay."

They were having a test in charms that day and Hermione as usual was taking the thing as if it was the hardest test she would ever have to take in her life, which meant that she had a book propped open next to her during breakfast and she kept giving it sidelong glances.

"You'll do great, you always do," Ron tried to assure her.

She glared at him. "Did you study, Ronald?" she asked, next, with pursed lips. "Harry has a reasonable excuse, but you do not."

Ron said nothing and instead shoveled food into his mouth and turned away.

Hermione ignored him and proceeded to question Harry on the wand movements of a particular charm to make illusions. Harry answered by moving his spoon in the appropriate wand movements which earner him a small smile from Hermione, before she buried her head into her book and ignored them for the rest of the meal. Had she not ignored them, she would have seen Lavender sit down next to Ron and practically drape herself over him, and instead not been surprised when she was getting up to go talk to the small Charms professor.

-

-

-

October 15, 1996

"How is the reading going, Harry?" Severus asked when Harry stepped into the sitting room of his quarters, where they usually held their lessons.

"I don’t have as much as time as I usually have to read, but I did manage to finish one of them. I didn't really enjoy the in depth descriptions of each curse but I guess that was mostly part of it."

Severus nodded before he stood. "There have been no more drastic changes, I hope."

"None," Harry said with a shrug. "Should we have expected more?"

"I don't know, perhaps," Severus said. In fact, he had been almost expecting there to be something.

"What are we doing today?" Harry asked.

Severus sighed weary. "I thought I would take you on a field trip today," Severus said. "Mostly because I need to harvest a few potion ingredients that can only be harvested on the night before the full moon; we will be going into the forest for these. I have something else to teach you from within there that might come useful to you. Professor Dumbledore has decided it would be best to key you to the wards in case anything were to go wrong. It is a precaution and something that I hope you will not abuse for some childish prank."

Harry nodded readily.

"How far into the forest are we going?"

"Not too far in, but far enough that it will be dangerous"—he stopped then and looked at Harry as if he were taking him in for the first time—"you will have to listen to me, Harry. In fact, it would be best if you brought that delectable cloak of yours with you, and whatever other thing that will help us do this."

Harry got up.

"Meet me in the entrance hall in ten minutes."

Harry nodded and stood up. He stopped, however, before leaving the room. "There is a map," he said slowly as if he didn't want to really divulge the fact. "It shows where everyone is at any time in the castle and the grounds. Anything within the grounds of Hogwarts is on the map."

"A valuable map to have," Severus said, "and you bring the subject up, for what reason exactly?"

"Well, you see, my father—I mean, James—created the map with Remus, Sirius, and Peter," Harry continued.

Severus' eyebrows knitted in confusion. A map that showed where everyone was within Hogwarts that had been created by the marauders seemed almost absurd, but Harry continued and he listened.

"Fred and George found the map and Mr. Filch's office. They gave it to me during my third year, not knowing at the time that James had created it. I found that out later. Anyhow, I mention it now because I used it the other night and I forgot I wanted to tell you, but always my name was Harry Potter on the map, but the last time I used it, my name was Harry Snape."

"Harry Snape," Severus repeated.

"Just when you asked me to bring the cloak I was reminded of that. I'll bring the map as well, sir?"

Severus nodded.

A map! Was that how they had always managed to catch him unaware, always knowing where he was? Did the map have secret passages marked? Did it show every nook and cranny of Hogwarts? How had they done it? He knew Lupin had been good at charms which would have helped, and Potter and Black had always been good at Transfiguration which was probably something that had helped in the making of the map. But they would have needed potions, wouldn't they, and none of them had been terribly good at the subject. Lupin had been the worst—a better version of Longbottom in his days. Potter and Black had been merely adequate, and as for Pettigrew he had blown up more cauldrons than not. Unless someone had helped them without knowing it, only one person came to mind—Lily.

Gathering the few supplies that he would need, Severus put them into his robes pocket, and after making sure that his wand was within his robes' sleeve, he walked out of his quarters towards the entrance hall to meet Harry.

October 31, 1996

The Halloween feast was as magnificent as it was possible for it to be, like every year. The first years had awed in amazement the moment it had begun. The decorations alone had set them off, followed afterwards by the piles of food which had far exceeded the welcoming feast.

Ron had already formed a large pile of food within his plate and was focused only on his plate than that of the people around him. His now girlfriend, Lavender, sat next to him and tried to ignore Ron's eating habits, but he didn't seem to notice as he was so focused on his food. Hermione, of course, had a book which she had propped open against a glass and seemed to be focusing on half the time while she attempted to converse with Harry and Imogen.

"Really, they aren't so bad," Imogen said. "I've met a couple of decent ones."

Harry laughed. "Alright, so some of them are alright," he said, daring himself to look towards the staff table.

"Draco Malfoy is okay," Imy said.

"This year," Harry agreed rather reluctantly.

"Malfoy is what?" Hermione asked as she cut into her chicken.

"Well…civil, I guess. He isn't that bad in potions, anyhow, not friendly or anything, just civil, though why still escapes me."

Hermione laughed, suddenly. "He's looking at you, you know—Malfoy. It's as if he knew we were talking about him."

Ginny who was sitting at Hermione's other side and had too noticed the stare. "Longing, it looks like, that stare," she said to Harry. "Maybe he's in love," she added in a sing song voice.

"Who's in love?" asked Ron in a moment when his mouth did not contain food.

"Just Draco," Imy said before anyone could stop her.

Ron spluttered. He coughed once. Twice. Lavender hit him on the back until he was once more breathing evenly.

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed loudly.

Harry dared to look back at Malfoy who frowned towards them and looked as if he wanted to get up and say something to Ron.

"And who is he in love with, then?" Ron asked, his voice lower this time.

"Harry, of course," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "Then again, who isn't these days? He's the 'Chosen One' after all."

Harry laughed. "Ah, well, I guess he's a good looking chap," Harry said. "Not particularly my type."

Hermione laughed. "And who exactly is your type, Mr. Potter?"

"Tall red heads," Harry said.

Ron nearly had a coughing fit once more at hearing that.

Harry laughed again, until Ginny quite seriously asked, "So are you gay, Harry?"

"Not in the least. Did I mention that those tall red heads had to be men, by any chance?" Harry winked at her.

Ginny blushed deeply.

"Harry stop teasing the poor girl," Hermione said suddenly with a frown.

Harry nodded and continued eating his dinner. Imogen who had been quite silent during the entire conversation smiled shyly at Harry as if she wanted to ask something but was too embarrassed to.

-

-

-

That night Harry went to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, to the sounds of Neville's snoring, and Ron's muttering. As was a custom with him he had gone to bed late, though this time it had had nothing to do with any of his lessons or his apprenticeship but instead it had much to do with Imogen Copperfield and the question that she had finally dared ask.

They had been sitting in the common room after dinner, he, Hermione, Imogen, Ron, and Dean. Hermione had remained engrossed in her book while Ron and Dean battled it all out on a chess board which had left him and Imogen to stare into the fire in a comfortable silence.

"Harry," she had said suddenly. "I heard, well, I heard you can talk to snakes."

Harry nodded. "What about it?"

"Well, I was reading something the other day and it said it is the mark of a dark wizard, and that only they do it. Slytherin spoke to snakes, didn't he, and Vol—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named speaks to snakes."

"Why do you want to know about this, Imogen?" Harry asked gently. There had to be a reason for her curiosity. She wasn't like Hermione, she wasn't asking just for knowledge's sake.

She blushed. "Can I—can I tell you after, somewhere more private?" She asked looking around.

Harry who had only ever explained what had happened during the night Voldemort attacked him to Ron and Hermione nodded, standing. "Come on, I'll take you up to my dorm," he told her. "We won't be overheard there."

She nodded readily and followed him up the stairs to his dorm room.

"I heard the boys can't come up to the girl's dorms," she said as they walked up the stairs.

Harry nodded. "Girls are more trusted it seems," he said.

They remained silent until they were in his dorm and then Harry led her towards his bed. She sat down and watched him. He began to pace. "Muffliato," he said. It was a spell that Snape had taught him, which was according to him better than a silencing spell.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Just a spell so that no one can hear us. I could have done it in the common room, but I didn't want to risk it."

She nodded, but said nothing.

"When Voldemort attacked my parents and I, he did not think about the fact that love is a powerful thing," Harry told her. "When he tried to kill me and my mom wouldn't let him kill me without killing her first she sacrificed herself for me. This is ancient magic that I'm sure she herself didn't even know she was evoking. Anyhow, this allowed something like a shield to remain behind around me. When the killing curse killed me, it was her shield that saved me. Her shield that made his spell bounce off, but it was a killing curse and it did destroy him, but it was I think only part of it that rebounded on him. When my scar was formed somehow with all the magical force in the house some of his powers were passed on to me. That is how I can talk to snakes."

Imogen frowned and muttered something inaudibly.

"What was that?" Harry asked, coming to stand in front of her.

"I can speak to snakes," she said softly. "I've always been able to. I knew I could when I was younger. I always liked them, too. Am I dark? You—you can't be, obviously, I mean it wasn't always your talent."

Harry sighed and sank down next to her. "I don't know that," he told her. "I don’t know that I wasn't just born with it. What I just told you is a theory, something that Dumbledore imagined was what happened, but I've been able to do it since I was one, then, if that is the case. You are not dark, because you have a power that is considered dark."

Harry hadn't noticed until that moment but Imogen was crying. He pulled her into his arms instantly. "Anyone can do evil," he told her softly in almost a whisper. "Anyone could easily do evil with a spell that isn't necessarily considered dark, just as good can come from spells considered dark."

Imogen frowned at him as he said that. "How?"

"There are spells that were once considered to be good, actually, every spell created, or at least most spells had a good side to them, I guess you could say, every spell is meant to do something when someone creates it. The killing curse, for instance was a healing spell once."

"Really?" Imogen said in wonder.

"Yes," Harry said. "I cannot tell you the exact details because I haven't read much on it yet but it was designed that way and for a short time used as a healing spell until someone died from it."

There was a pause.

"So then, any spell today could be used as the dark arts?" she asked.

"Take a simple levitation spell," Harry said. "If you were to lift someone high enough and drop them, wouldn't the result be the same as that of the killing curse?"

Imogen nodded deep in thought. "Then, I'm not dark," she said. "I'm not going to turn bad?"

"No," Harry said reassuringly. "Is this what was bothering you that other day?"

She nodded slowly. "There was a snake on the windowsill. I couldn't stay up there. It was talking to me."

Harry frowned. "A snake, in the dorm?"

"Is that unusual?" she asked.

"Not unless it's someone's pet, but I don't think anyone has one in Gryffindor."

She bit her lip in a very Hermionelike fashion.

"You'll tell me the next time there is a snake, won't you, Imy?"

She nodded. "I should go. Thank you, Harry. You're like a big brother. I really appreciate it. I miss home sometimes and you're a comfort to have around."

Harry smiled at her slightly and pulled her into a short hug. Harry canceled the Muffliato spell as she began walking to the door, but she stopped.

"Do you like snakes, Harry?" she asked.

"They're beautiful animals," he said almost silently. "They are very elegant and graceful."

She grinned again and then walked out of the dorm.

Harry sighed as she left. There was another parselmouth at Hogwarts, and she was a Gryffindor first year, and a muggle-born.

-

-

-

Severus pushed the oak wood door open and entered the dark room only lighted by the fire in the corner of the room, though no one stood by the hearth, save for the large snake that seemed to be enjoying the heat.

"Ah, finally here," Severus," Voldemort said.

"I am sorry my lord, but there was a staff meeting I could not leave."

Voldemort waved him off as it if were no matter. As Severus moved to his place he did not show his surprise to the others around him. Voldemort was in some sort of good mood. Bellatrix sneered at him as he walked by her. He gave her a smirk.

"Today is a night of celebration," Voldemort said. "Tonight is a sacred night. All hallows eve. Tonight we complete a ritual that was started many years ago."

Severus' eyes widened at the implication of what this could mean. He hadn't expected to be called that night considering that Voldemort rarely ever wanted to see anyone on Halloween due to the fact that he had attacked the Potters on a Halloween night, but now he had some sort of plan, some sort of ritual that he wanted to complete.

Severus heard footsteps suddenly, and moaning. Then there was a bang and a whimper. The door was thrown open and a woman that looked as if once she had been beautiful fell to the floor. Rebastian Lestrange glared at her, as he took her arm and brought her farther into the room. She was tall and thin, too thin in his opinion, with too pale skin, bags under her eyes, and a dark shadow within her eyes that seemed to just tell everyone that saw her that she had seen too much over the years.

"I'm very grateful you could join us," Voldemort said almost amiably. She glared at him and ripped herself out of Rebastian's hold, walking towards the fire and towards the snake whom she sat next to and allowed to coil around her.

Anything like this woman had never been seen at a death eater meeting and Severus couldn't keep his eyes from straying towards her. It was her peculiarity that interested him more than anything.

"This, my loyal followers, is Faye," Voldemort said. "She has been a prisoner for the past sixteen years, held at an unclosed location and kept by a house elf. She is part of the ritual."

Severus looked towards the woman again and noticed at once that she was whispering to Nagini as if the snake could understand her, and then he heard the distinct sounds of the hissing. She was a parselmouth! But there were so few in the world, and here was a woman, a captive of Voldemort's who seemed to have the ability.

"She has been a valuable prisoner to have, a mudblood, but nevertheless a very powerful prisoner."

"What—what will the ritual entail?" the silent voice of one of the death eaters asked.

Voldemort smirked evilly and began describing exactly what he meant to do, and even though her death was being discussed, Faye did and said nothing to tell them that she knew that she was going to become a blood sacrifice for Voldemort's spell. She continued on, instead, talking calmly to the snake.

Severus listened intently, trying to find any clue that would tell him exactly what Voldemort was going to use his ritual for, but Voldemort did not seem to want them to know anything at all about his ritual for he didn't give them more than what they needed.

-

-

-

November 2, 1996

Draco looked at the potion bottle sitting in front of him. It was a potion in the form of a perfume. He had ordered it to be sent to him that way just in case, and now he had it. Poison that he could use to kill Albus Dumbledore, even though he didn't in particular want to kill the headmaster of Hogwarts. On the contrary, he wanted instead to help him, but his mother had made things difficult, involving Severus Snape had to be the biggest mistake she had ever made, and that included trying to pair him off with Pansy Parkinson whom he could spot sitting on the lap of Blaise Zabini in the darkest corner of the common room.

"Hey, Draco," a girlish voice said, coming to sit down next to him.

"Hello," he muttered without looking at the girl that had sat down next to him.

"Do you want a cookie?" she asked. "Mum's just sent me her homemade double chocolate chip cookies, but she sent me a bunch. I don't think I'll finish them all."

"Alright," Draco relented. She offered him a small container full off cookies and allowed him to take one.

She watched him as he bit into it.

"This is really good," Draco said once he had finished his first bite.

The first year grinned and then stood up. "See you later, Draco," she said and walked away.

Draco sighed deeply as he finished off the cookie, and continued to stare at the bottle. He didn't have to become a killer. Snape didn't want that, hadn't he said he didn't want that, but then that meant that Snape would be the one killing Dumbledore. Somehow, Dumbledore was going to die. There was nothing anyone could do about it, it was either Dumbledore or Snape and Snape wouldn't die to save Dumbledore. He was the one that had sent his father to jail, regardless of anything the man wanted to tell him, and Snape probably even wanted Dumbledore to die.

He had to at least make attempts on the headmaster's life, if nothing else, but Dumbledore was rarely ever alone or at Hogwarts for that matter.

He stood up gently and pulled the potion bottle into his robes pocket before making his way, with a sigh towards his godfather's office. He was sure about his loyalties, and he was willing to take a chance. He was willing to share that piece of information with the potions master in order for him to share his loyalties with him. They needed to trust each other.

When Draco knocked on the door he did not expect it to be opened at once and for Snape to look out as if he had been expecting someone.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, motioning for him to enter while looking around the hallway as Draco stepped inside. "What can I do for you?"

Draco reached into his robes pocket and placed the potion bottle on the desk.

"What does that mean?" Snape asked, walking around the desk.

"Just that poison can be brought into the school for all those protective wards that are supposed to be around the place," Draco answered. "I don't want to use it. I don't even want to try it, but I have to look as if I am trying and ordering poison is something that they would have expected from me."

Snape folded his hands in front of him as he looked at him, and Draco had the impression that Snape didn't really have any idea how to go about their ordeal.

"My loyalies lie with Dumbledore and the order," Draco said. "I do not want to be my father, or to be on the dark lord's side, even if this side does lose, I will remain on this side."

Snape gave him a calculating look and opened his mouth to speak when the door was pushed open and Harry Potter rushed in, looking paler than usual his eyes wide. He didn't even seem to notice that Draco was in the room before he spoke.

"Remus sent me to get you, he said it was important, that we should head to headquarters right now. He didn't give me much detail, all he said was that Tonks just sent her patronus and that it was best we go."

Snape looked from Potter to Draco before answering. "And is Dumbledore aware of the fact that you are joining us tonight?'

Potter nodded.

"Alright, then, Potter, get whatever it is you need and hurry."

Potter nodded once more, and for the first time looked towards Draco. He frowned at him and then rushed back out of the office, closing the door quickly behind him.

"Does Potter know you're a death eater?" Draco thought to ask the moment the door had closed. "That you aren't so trustworthy?"

Snape didn't look as if he knew what to say to that, so instead he didn't answer. "Draco, I do believe this conversation must be cut short if there are more important things to be done. However, I would like to continue it."

Draco sighed, but walked out the office regardless, and nearly ran into Potter on the way out.

"Alright, ready," he heard Harry say as the door closed behind him. He really didn't like Harry Potter sometimes.

-

-

-

Harry sat between Snape and Remus at the table. Mrs. Weasley kept giving him worried glances. She had been very objective to his even being in the house and out of Hogwarts, but after Dumbledore had arrived he had put a stop to it, by first pointing out that it was Harry's house, and that Harry had a right to be there, and then telling them that Harry was allowed to make his own decisions about his involvement with the order, not to mention that he did better when knowledge was given to him, if they didn't remember the previous year. Mrs. Weasley hadn't liked it, but in the end she had given up, which was all the better for the rest of them, most of which hadn't put any opposition. After all he was Harry Potter.

"Alright, what is this about," a woman Harry had never seen before said.

Tonks stood up. "This," she announced, "is about an Azkaban prisoner."

Emmeline Vance a couple of seats away frowned. "An Azkaban prisoner? I am here because of some Azkaban prisoner? What importance does this have with anything?"

Harry too was wondering that exact same thing, but he noticed that his father seemed to know what Tonks was talking about and he didn't very much like where it was going. Dumbledore, too, was frowning.

"The dementors no longer continue to follow orders from the ministry. The time they spend in Azkaban is ordered by Voldemort, or is only done because they are most familiar with the place. As such, Aurors will do routine patrols. Today was my day to patrol, and I was not looking forward to it. I hate going there to look after the prisoners, however, something interesting happened during my patrol. I came upon a death eater."

"Because there are so few around there," Fred Weasley said sarcastically sharing a grin with his twin.

Bill hit them both on the back of the head and their mother gave him an approving nod.

Tonks smiled in their direction, before continuing. "It was not a surprise to run into this particular death eater, but it was surprising to actually see him. I did not expect him to act as if nothing was wrong. He was completely lucid, just sitting there as if he deserved to be there, so of course he caught my attention, but before I could approach him an owl arrived for me, detailing some other business. I was distracted. When I turned back to see him, however, another death eater had joined him. He was teasing him, he was calling him a traitor. I stayed and listened.

"This death eater, he one that had caught my attention did nothing to dissuade the other, and then once he had left he just remained there, just as unbothered, so I thought to tell someone, and the first person that came to mind was Severus, but as I could not be sure to reach him, I sent a my patronus to Remus.

"Remus was not very much help, so I decided to talk to him, and I did, and I discovered quite a bit about him. I never would have thought that I would be the one to argue his case in front of all of you, maybe not all of you,"—here she gave Remus and Snape a long look—"but I do believe he has either changed his beliefs, or he's never really been one of them. Anyway, I couldn't just leave him there, knowing this. And it isn't like anyone will miss him there, or if anyone from the ministry will notice until tomorrow. So—I um took him out. He's not here, obviously, but he's tied up in my apartment.

"What this meeting is about really, is about letting me bring him here for questioning or something."

Tonks stopped and looked around the room.

"Who is this death eater, Nymphadora?" Moody asked. He was giving her a doubtful look.

"I don't want anyone to just decide because of his name," she said, looking around.

"What is his name, Tonks?" This time it was Mr. Weasley who asked.

Tonks looked at him and then around the table. Everyone was waiting. Harry was almost sure he knew who Tonks was talking about. Snape and Remus, both on either side of him also seemed to know though they seemed rather annoyed at the fact. Dumbledore looked as calm as ever. Some of the rest looked curious, others disappointed, and a few even annoyed. Dumbledore, however, was the only one taking the news as calmly as if Tonks were just talking about the weather.

"Fine, I'll tell you," said Tonks after a moment's pause. "But if I do you must all agree to let him come here."

It took another pause for everyone to nod, and then Tonks opened her mouth. "Lucius Malfoy."

November 2, 1996

Lucius Malfoy opened his eyes when he felt someone looking at him. Rookwood was back and leaning casually against a wall, his arms crossed.

"What is it, Rookwood?" Lucius asked, weary.

"Couldn't I just come here for the company, Malfoy?"

Lucius glared at him. "You and I both know you are not here to enjoy the company."

Rookwood laughed – a humorless laugh. "Ah, Lucius, Lucius, Lucius," Rookwood said. He cocked his head to the side. "I've been wondering now for a while; why her, why that Mudblood?"

Lucius didn't answer, but to himself he whispered internally, 'because she understood me'.

"I know you won't tell me, dear Lucius," Rookwood said. His voice was soft, a whisper. "Ah, well. It doesn't matter, does it? She's dead, and your son will be joining her, won't he, Lucius? For all your mistakes." Rookwood laughed.

"Get out," Lucius whispered.

Rookwood smirked. "I'm not exactly ready to leave."

Lucius turned away, attempting to ignore the other man. Rookwood, however, would not be denied his entertainment, and he moved to stand within Lucius' range of vision. Lucius gave a groan, but made no move to get rid of the other man.

"She was a pretty little thing, I will admit that," Rookwood said, "Not worth it, though, eh Lucius? I imagine she was good in bed, otherwise why would you have kept her around for as long as you did?"

Lucius growled deep in his throat.

Rookwood was not bothered by any of it. "Narcissa is not aware of all of this, of course. How could she be? I could tell her. Then again, that would be betrayal of this new friendship, but you betrayed the Dark Lord."

Lucius made no motion to show he was even listening anymore.

"Oh, you're no fun, Lucy," Rookwood said and moved across the cell "Fine, I'll leave you."

Lucius did not sigh in relief when Rookwood left, but instead remained on the floor unmovin g until Rookwood was long gone, and then he slowly picked himself up. He didn't notice the figure approaching him at first, until it was standing right behind him.

"Lucius Malfoy," she said. "Could we talk?"

Lucius turned to look at her. He took in her pink spiked hair and height before once more turning away and walking to the nearest wall.

"Go on, talk," Lucius said.

She shifted from foot to foot. "You – you don't have to answer me, I'm just curious. I know I shouldn't even be talking to you, but you interest me, Lucius Malfoy, and I couldn't help but overhear earlier. Are you – did you really –”, she took a deep breath, "betray Voldemort? Is that – is that the reason you're here?"

Lucius didn't answer.

She waited. "I said you didn't have to answer. I guess I'll go now."

"Yes," Lucius said at her back. "Yes."

Tonks stood still. She turned around. "Yes, you betrayed him?"

"Yes," Lucius repeated.

Tonks walked towards him. "I know you were found here. Did he put you here?"

"Yes."

Tonks looked around quickly as if trying to decide something, then shouted out a spell. A wolf-like figure appeared before her and she quickly whispered something to it before sending her Patronus off.

"Come here," she instructed Lucius. He stepped forward and she tapped him on the head, turning Lucius practically invisible. "I'm trusting you, Malfoy," she said, placing another spell on him. "I hope you recognize the spell I just used on you. Just know that I will not hesitate to activate it, even if you did not betray him. This is illegal, what I am doing now, but I think it will be worth it." With that said, she took him by the arm and Apparated to her apartment.

-

-

-

Whispers erupted around the table.

"Lucius Malfoy," Fred Weasley said in an astonished voice.

Other voices followed his example.

"No, can't be, not that Death Eater scum."

"It has to be a trick – "

" – impossible."

" – he betrayed Voldemort?"

Tonks made everything come to a stop by speaking. "I am not sure that he has truly betrayed Voldemort, but there was something that I saw. My mother always said I was a good judge of character; I want to say that I am right about Malfoy. His circumstances of being found in Azkaban have not been discussed. Everything that has happened around him has been suspicious; if anything, he must be on the bad side of Voldemort."

No one looked convinced, as far as Harry could tell from his spot between his father and Remus. He had sat still and quiet while the rest of them had speculated how wrong Tonks had been to go ahead and do such a thing. He looked towards Remus and noticed that the Lycanthrope was giving the Weasley twins warning glances; he wasn't the only one. Alastor Moody was standing behind them and seemed ready to stop them from doing something drastic. Harry looked at Snape. He was glaring a hole into the wall in front of him and seemed to be ignoring everyone around him as if he was bored. Harry looked next towards the head o f the table where Dumbledore sat, staring at his hands with a calm expression across his face. Harry couldn't help but feel as if Dumbledore had expected someone to bring up Lucius and he was just getting the reaction that he had expected from the beginning.

Talk continued on. Harry could hardly even make out half the voices around him. Everyone was muddled up, but they were all talking about the same thing. They were all in agreement with each other that Lucius Malfoy could not possibly be on their side without some sort of good reason that only benefited him.

Harry hadn't looked at Dumbledore again after his first glance, so when Dumbledore stood up, Ha rry missed it. When Dumbledore spoke, however, everyone stopped and turned to look at him. Harry looked towards the Headmaster and found his eyes seeking the man's hand, but found it whole and completely different from the hand he had seen not that long before.

"Lucius Malfoy," he announced, "hates Voldemort as much as the rest of us."

"What?"

"No, that can't be."

Dumbledore allowed a couple of them to say something to the people around them before he once more spoke, directing it to Tonks. "Bring Lucius here, Tonks," he said. He quickly wrote something down on a piece of parchment he had extracted from a pocket from his robes, and handed it to her before turning to Kingsley. "Go to the Ministry and owl the Minister. Inform him that Lucius Malfoy has gone missing from Azkaban, but convince him to keep this secret in any way that you can." With that said, Dumbledore looked towards Snape. They shared some sort of silent conversation and Snape nodded. Standing quickly, he left the room.

"I won't stand for this, Albus!" Molly Weasley said. "He is a Death Eater, and that man will not set a foot in this house!"

Albus looked at the Weasley matriarch calmly. "Molly, there are things you don't know about this entire matter."

"Well then, explain them to us, Albus," Emmeline Vance said.

"I imagine everything will be explained as soon as Tonks brings Lucius," said Dumbledore, starting to get up. "You are all welcome to remain here, or leave if you do not want to see Lucius Malfoy. I know he has caused many of you pain with everything he has done, but there are always two sides to the spectrum."

A couple of the Order members still looked unsure, but said nothing and remained seated. Fred and George Weasley looked excited. Their elder brother stood and walked across the room, but he too made no move to leave. Arthur Weasley however, walked pu rposely out of the room. His wife followed a moment later. A few others stood up and left, three of them excused themselves at having limited time to remain at the meeting. However, most of them remained behind.

"Shouldn't Potter be at Hogwarts?" Alastor Moody asked suddenly as if he had just then noticed Harry.

"I have given Harry permission to come to certain meetings. This, for instance, has a lot to do with him," Dumbledore said. He was twirling his wand in his fingers.

Harry couldn't handle just sitting at the table anymore, and stood up, walking to the only window in the room. He looked outside and noticed just how dark it had gotten. The moon was almost n on-existent in the sky, being just a thin crescent-shaped line. He allowed himself to remain by the window while they waited for the elder Malfoy. Harry could hear the whispers from behind him, all of them concerning Lucius Malfoy, all speculative to what Malfoy could be plotting by pretending to have betrayed Voldemort.

A couple towards the end of the table were talking not about Lucius, but Tonks and chuckling about how only she would be willing to bring back a Death Eater because of her soft heart. Harry turned his attention to the other side of the room after hearing that and noticed at once that Dumbledore was in a deep conversation with Remus, but that no one else was aware of it. Throughout the kitchen, private conversations went on.

When the door opened they all turned to look towards it as if waiting for Lucius Malfoy to just st roll right in, but instead it was Snape, who carried some sort of wooden box which he handed to Dumbledore quickly. Dumbledore nodded and put it away without a word. Most people in the room had not noticed the exchange, and Harry wouldn't have as well had it not been for the fact that his eyes nearly always strayed towards Dumbledore's hands.

-

-

-

He looked very different from the man Harry had seen in his vision just two months previous . Harry was surprised to notice that just two month in Azkaban, if it had even been that long, had changed Lucius so decidedly. Lucius wasn't his usual glossy self. He didn't wear the extravagant robes that were a custom for him, but instead he wore a pair of faded, worn, and dirty robes. His hair didn't have its usual sheen, instead it was lank, matted with dirt, and tangled. His face was most changed; his skin was paler than was normal, containing almost a gray tint to it. Under his eyes one would find bags, and stubble covered his chin and made him look older than he really was. But in his eyes – he held pain.

When Lucius stepped into the kitchen with Tonks following him, everyone looked towards him and stared at his form as he made his way inside.

"Good evening, everyone," Lucius said the moment he was standing by Dumbledore.

No one said anything to return his greeting.

Lucius looked around the room with an unreadable expression then he sat down on the nearest empty chair. He put his hands together on the table as if to show that he wasn't up to anything, and then he turned to Dumbledore as if speaking to an old friend. "I didn't believe anything would come of this time, all things considered. How is Draco?"

"As well as the boy can be, Lucius. What else did you expect after things went the way they did? This was as unexpected to me as it w as to you, believe me," Dumbledore said passively.

For some reason, the easy flow of conversation seemed to infuriate the other Order members, for they glared towards Lucius and Dumbledore, though they said nothing. Harry almost found it amusing, but when Lucius had exhausted whatever small talk he had been making with Dumbledore, he turned and almost immediately found him as if he had been seeking him out.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Lucius said in his drawling voice before he chuckled. "How I've been longing to see you."

Harry looked away from the elder Malfoy's intense stare and looked instead towards the other side of the room where he found Snape's eyes on him. He looked away from the Potions M aster’s gaze as well and instead kept his eyes trained on the table.

"Has Malfoy always been on such good terms with you, Albus?" asked a tall man Harry didn't recognize from somewhere near the middle of the table.

There was grumbling coming from around them and Harry felt as if everything was going to go bad if Lucius Malfoy's spying wasn't explained to them soon, and even then he doubted many would accept Malfoy. Half of them didn't even accept Snape and he had been spying for them for years with their knowledge.

"Lucius Malfoy," Dumbledore said cutting through all the noise, "has been a spy for the Order for many years now. Most of the information we have gained has been because of Lucius, not Severus. In fact, due to Lucius' closer role within the Death Eaters, we were able to figure out where Voldemort was after last year. However, his role has been compromised and Lucius was sent to Azkaban."

Most of the Order looked around angrily.

"And you thought this would be something that the rest of us did not need to know, did you?" Moody asked gruffly as if he couldn't believe it.

Arguments began almost at once. It took a few moments before Dumbledore could stop the conversations. Afterwards, he began to explain the purpose of Lucius Malfoy.

-

-

-

Harry stepped out of the fire and spotted it at once. The book looked as beaten up and worn as it had the first time he had seen it and, like that first time, he was drawn towards the book with its written-on-margins; the property of the Half-Blood Prince. He knew it was Snape's, considering that the book was in Snape's quarters, but he wasn’t entirely sure that the stuff written within was actually Snape's. He would never have pegged Snape as the kind of person to write all over a book, or for that matter, create spells. He seemed to treasure his books, and clearly this book had not been well taken care of. Had it been Snape's, it would have been well taken care of.

Harry opened the book at random and found himself looking at the potion he had completed just the week before with Draco Malfoy. He flipped to the next page and sighed; he didn't want a Love Potion. He flipped a few more pages, looking for something that would catch his eye and stopped when he noticed a spell, squished in the corner of a yellowing piece of parchment. He could just make out the word ‘Sectumsempra’.It was a non-verbal spell, he noted, from the abbreviation in the parenthesis. He looked towards the words written underneath the spell, hoping that he had put some sort of explanation under it. Instead, all he found was ‘for enemies’.

Harry closed the book slowly, keeping the spell in the back of his mind to maybe use at a later time against a Death Eater, if no one else. He put the book back where he had found it and sighed, closing his eyes as he sat down with his back leaning against the chair. He wanted to forget hearing about Lucius Malfoy and listening to the plans for finding somewhere for him to hide out for the next few months. He wanted to stop thinking about the fact that the man was no longer in Azkaban and instead under the protection of the Order. He wanted to stop thinking about all of this because he felt as if there was something he had missed, something that had come of this night; it was as if something was going to happen.

The fire turned green and Snape stepped out of the fire carefully. Harry opened his eyes and watched him. Snape looked tired, much too tired than usual, and seemed to be in a bad mood, not that he was ever in an extremely good mood.

"A drink, Harry," Snape ordered, falling into a chair.

Harry brought out his wand and waved it at the cabinet in the corner. It unlocked itself and a bottle of firewhiskey flew into Harry's hand.

"Not that one," Snape said without even looking at Harry. "The one near the back."

Harry nodded and this time directed the bottle to Snape, who poured himself a glass and then took a long drink from it as he set the bottle down on the floor.

"What happened?" Harry dared to ask after Snape had drowned his first glass and was going for another.

Snape didn't say anything at first, but then he answered. "I never would have thought that the Order would do something so stupid. To allow Lucius Malfoy to remain outside of Azkaban, this will not go unpunished."

Harry gasped. "He – he'll hurt you?"

Snape merely nodded as he took a sip of his drink. "I am not sure how this will be my fault, but he is already angry with me."

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

Snape didn't say anything. He instead stood up and sat his glass down, moving towards his bookshelf as if he were looking for a book, but stopped in front of it and did not extend his hand to grab any of them.

"How much do you know about your ability to talk to snakes?"

Harry hadn't expected that question, and thought quickly as he said, "Someone asked me much the same question on Halloween."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"My ability was passed on when the Killing Curse backfired, Dumbledore told me. He believed that some of Voldemort’s abilities were passed on to me when he attempted to kill me."

"So they came from the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded, but added, "The thing is, even though Dumbledore is right most of the time, he could also have gotten this wrong. I may never know if it was my own ability to talk to snakes, or Voldemort’s ability that I just – I don't know – took on."

Snape suddenly grabbed a book, but did not open it, or even look at it. Instead, he reached into the spot where the book had previously rested and ran his hand along the back of the shelf. Harry watched as it slid backward and then turned on the spot, before sliding forward again. Different books now sat on the shelf, and Harry could tell that these books did not just contain theories on Dark magic or the mention of spells without the incantations; these were books on the Dark Arts, books that taught someone how to do Dark spells. Snape looked at the titles and picked two out and motioned for him to take them.

Harry hesitantly stood up, and took the books. Dread fell over him.

Snape picked out two more books and then turned around and walked back to where he had been sitting. Harry took his seat once more, still holding the books on his lap.

"For a long time I wondered," Snape said, "what makes certain people have the ability to talk to snakes? I am not the kind of person that will leave something unanswered. I have many times spent years looking for an answer to not only this question, but so many others. Is it genetics? Is it passed down in some way through a family line? So many questions unanswered, and it all begins with the beginning of magic."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I discovered two years ago," Snape said, "that in the beginning, magic came from the earth. It was given to those that were known to deserve it, and so the gift of speaking to snakes was also given to those that either needed it, or deserved it, even though some records state that it was at first a curse. A young boy put the curse on his best friend and he could only, after that, talk to snakes and no one else. His children could speak to both snakes and humans, and from there they came. However, most famous Parseltongues have been Dark Wizards. Salazar Slytherin was the last one before Voldemort, and they are related directly. Then there is you."

Harry shifted in his chair, "And a first year Gryffindor."

Snape looked startled for a moment. "What is her last name?"

"Copperfield," Harry answered. "She's a Muggle-born."

"Just like – " Snape trailed off.

"Like who?" Harry asked.

Snape shook his head. "No one," he said as if he had just gotten some deep understanding of something before he opened one of the books and flipped to the table of contents.

Harry didn't want to bother him, and he knew a dismissal when he heard one, but he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to go back up to the Gryffindor tower. He looked towards the room he had used before September and got up, leaving the books Snape had handed him on the nearest table. He headed to the room, glad that he had thought to leave clothes there just in case.

He had just reached the door when he felt Snape's eyes on him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Going to bed," Harry returned.

"Here?"

"I'm too lazy to walk back to Gryffindor tower," Harry responded.

Snape didn’t seem to know what to do, before he asked, "Your friends will not wonder where you are?"

"They will simply imagine that I got up early and went to help Remus or that I headed down to breakfast; they've known me to do that before."

Snape nodded and turned back to his book, but stopped. "Harry," he said. "I know this is completely off topic, but I meant to mention it the other day. Lately, you're very hesitant as to what to call me outside of class. I have noticed it, you know. "

Harry bit his lip in a very Hermione-like fashion. He realized he had been ignoring calling Snape anything unless he was in class and he had to address him as Professor or Sir, but he hadn't thought much of it. It was just something he tried to ignore, and now Snape had brought the subject up.

"You can call me Severus, if that helps, if you don’t know what to call me."

Harry coughed. "Se – Severus?" He said out loud.

"That does happen to be my name. Though I would advise you use it only within these quarters or when we are alone."

Harry nodded and turned to walk to his room.

"Goodnight, Harry," Snape – no, Severus – said.

"Goodnight, Se – Severus," Harry said, stumbling over his father's name.

November 3, 1996

For the first time in a long while, Harry felt well rested when he woke up. It was still early, he decided, seeing as he didn't feel the usual sunlight that drifted onto his face every morning, but he could hear someone walking somewhere in the next room. Snape, he thought. No, Severus. He wasn't up in Gryffindor tower, but in the dungeons. Harry rubbed at his eyes as he sat up and he searched for his glasses on his bedside table where he was sure he had set them down. Once he had found them and put them on, he slipped out of bed and felt the cold floor with his feet before he began to dress in the clothes the house elves had set out for him. He was so glad there was such a thing as magic. After pulling on his shoes, Harry went out to the other room and found Snape just as he had left him the night before; poring over the book he had gotten from his hidden shelf.

"Good morning," offered Harry.

"Hmm…yes. Good morning, Harry, breakfast is where it usually is." Snape was already eating breakfast, Harry noticed, as he walked to the small door that separated the small kitchenette from the sitting room.

"Tempus," Harry said waving his wand at the air as he pushed the door open. He didn't bother to look at the floating numbers that told him the time as he proceeded into the kitchen and towards the brilliant smelling breakfast.

Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice from a small pitcher and then looked up at the time. It was just a few minutes past eight. He motioned with his wand at the air and watched the time disappear. He took a long drink, and then turned to piling his plate with food.

Snape entered the room a few minutes later and Harry looked up. "It's strange, isn't it?" said Harry when Snape had joined him at the table.

"What's strange?" Snape asked.

"That a year ago we would have been at each other's throats," Harry said.

"Time and circumstances change people," Snape said as if that were explanation enough.

Harry decided to let that be, and instead asked, "Why did you let me sleep late? I didn't even notice, I'm so used to having light come into the room in the morning."

Snape didn’t answer at first and instead simply drank from his mug. "I thought you needed it," he said at last. His lips curled into a small, almost noticeable smile

Harry gave him back a smile of his own and continued on with his breakfast in silence. He sighed as he finished. "It's like escaping the world, coming here; it’s so different from the last two months without the pressures of school and of everything else.”

Snape snorted. “You find peace in my rooms?"

"I find peace away from everyone else. They all expect something from me."

Snape gave him a look and then announced that he had brewing to do. "You can stay, if you like. Those books I handed to you last night might be important. Read them."

Harry nodded at him and watched him leave before he walked to the next room and spotted the books where he had left them. The other book, the book that had belonged to the Half-Blood Prince, was nowhere in sight and Harry imagined that if Snape was using it for something, he had already put it elsewhere. Harry reached for the books Snape had told him he should read and opened the first one, waiting for something terrible to happen, as often did with books on the Dark Arts, but nothing did. He flipped through the first few pages, not finding a title in any of them. He was at the table of contents and with just one scan of the chapter titles, he knew that the book was about Dark rituals. Why Snape wanted him to read about that was beyond him, but as he flipped to the first chapter, he settled down comfortably and began to read.

-

-

-

The first words that Hermione said to him when he sat down for dinner that night were, "Where were you?"

Harry didn't answer until he had taken his seat next to Ron and across from Hermione. "With Remus," Harry offered, piling his plate with food. "He was helping me with something."

Hermione didn't seem to believe him. Even though she gave him a doubtful look, she asked, interested, "With what?"

"Oh, just this and that," Harry said and turned to Ron, "I was thinking," he said, "we could have practice tomorrow, to get back into it. We have until December; that's when the first match is, right before we have break."

Ron frowned. "December? Don't they usually begin in November? I was wondering why we hadn't had a practice yet.”

"Dumbledore wants to set up stronger wards around the pitch. That's what McGonagall said, and it makes sense, all things considered."

"But, Harry – " Hermione began.

Harry ignored her, "Could you get the word out, Ron?"

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione and shrugged before nodding at Harry. He then went on to begin his dinner by shoveling a large amount of food into his mouth.

For the rest of the meal, Harry ignored any question that Hermione had about where Harry had gone to. It was as they were leaving the Great Hall that Hermione once more asked, "Last night, when did you get in? You were gone early too? How much sleep did you even get?"

"Oh, Harry didn't make it to bed last night. At least not his bed," Seamus Finnegan said with some amusement. "At least he wasn't there at two A.M. when I went to bed, and he wasn't there at five A.M. when Ron came in and woke me by falling into the wrong bed."

Harry fought the urge to groan or pummel Seamus for telling Hermione that. She glared at him. "You will tell me where you were," she said to him in a dangerous tone.  She then walked past him.

"I didn't even notice," Ron said. "I was with Lavender. We fell asleep in the Room of Requirement."

Harry lifted an eyebrow at him.

"God, that's scary!" Ron said and shook his head as if to clear it, before adding, "Nothing happened."

Harry grinned. "I doubt you would tell me if something did."

Ron snorted. "What about you, mate? Where were you last night?"

"Like I said, with Remus," Harry said. “Hermione is making too big a deal out of this. I'm his apprentice, why can't I help him? I feel asleep while grading papers and he let me stay once I woke up at three because he figured it was too late anyway. I slept on his couch. I don't exactly want to announce this to the whole school. Does she have to know just about everything?"

Ron laughed. "She's Hermione, Harry; she wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't need to know everything."

"Yeah, alright," Harry grinned. "So, you and Lavender. I always thought Hermione was more of, I don't know – your type."

Ron snorted. "Hermione? No. I mean, yes, I liked her, but Lavender – ah, Lavender is the real thing. Hermione and I fight too much, anyway. She's too bossy. Can you picture that – the two of us? We'd never agree on anything. I wouldn't be able to do anything without her being in the middle of it."

Harry laughed, "Because she isn't now?"

"It would be much worse, Harry. You should see that."

"Fine," Harry nodded.

They entered the Common Room a few minutes later after saying the password. Hermione, Harry noticed, sat with her nose buried in a book. Taking a deep breath, he approached her and sat down next to her on the comfortable sofa. She looked up the moment he sat down, but right back down to her book a moment later.

"Why won't you tell me where you were?" Hermione asked in a muffled voice from behind her book.

"I was with Remus. I fell asleep while grading some papers for him. It was early when I woke up and he said to stay, so I did. I was going to return then, but instead I chose to help him out today."

"You're lying," Hermione said outright, "I don't believe you, anyway. You could have just said this earlier, but you're making everything complicated. Now, where were you?"

"Fine; I wasn't with Remus the entire time," Harry told her. He looked around and sighed as he stood up. "I can't tell you everything, you have to understand that I've been sworn to secrecy," he added. "Let's go to my room, we can talk there. Where's Ron? He was right behind me."

Hermione gathered her things and left them in a pile of the sofa while Harry looked for Ron. He couldn't find the other boy anywhere, but he had been right behind him.

"Forget Ron," Harry said. "I don't think he was really all that interested anyway."

Hermione laughed. "You can't see him, because he's somewhere hidden behind Lavender." She pointed towards the only part of Ron that could be seen – his right leg.

Harry laughed. "Then it is quite obvious he isn't interested."

Hermione nodded, looking anxious.

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Well, come on."

Hermione followed up to the boy's dorms. Once there, and once Harry was sure that no one else was up there, he cast Muffliato. "There was an Order meeting," he told her. "Dumbledore has agreed to let me go to a few of the low key meetings, so I won't be at most of them. Anyway, the only way he would let me was if I agreed to not tell anyone, which includes you and Ron, about what the Order is doing just in case. It isn't that you're not trusted. Ron's mom was so mad I was there, scared that someone would hurt me for the information. And I agree with them, I won't have you get hurt just because you know something that, at the end of the day, is not that important."

"But the meeting didn’t last all night, did it?" Hermione asked.

"I was down helping Remus when Tonks sent her Patronus about the meeting. He told me to go see Dumbledore about it, and then Dumbledore sent me to Snape."

"Snape?" Hermione laughed. "How did that go down?"

"He was okay, actually. I think since we've worked on my Occlumency and the remedial potions this year we're getting along better which was – I don’t know – probably Dumbledore's doing."

Hermione nodded. "I think that's a good thing," she said seriously. "He's the spy for the Order – it's probably important that the two of you get along."

Harry snorted but inwardly he was smiling. "Anyhow, Snape allowed me to go with him, on Dumbledore's orders of course. We got to twelve Grimmauld Place a few minutes later and the meeting began. I can't tell you anything from the meeting, of course, but afterwards I came back with Remus and I sort of crashed at his place, and I wound up helping him grade things all of today. More like reading=2 0his books. He has really interesting books on Defense. Anyhow, that's it, Hermione, that's all of it. I didn't want to mention the meeting, especially during dinner. I mean, think about it, anyone could have heard and gotten back to Voldemort, and I can't tell you everything."

Hermione nodded rather reluctantly. "I guess I can understand. This is how it felt like then, back last year when you were stuck with the Dursleys not knowing anything."

"I got over it," Harry said. "I will tell you if I really think I need to tell you, you know. I tell you about the meetings with Dumbledore. I'm not trying to keep anything from you."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "I shouldn't push you," she said. "With everything you're doing."

Harry grinned at her. That was what he loved about Hermione. She was always so distracted that she rarely ever noticed what was right in front of her nose, even though she knew that there was something that he wasn't sharing with her. She also rarely ever noticed how annoying she was being, but that was just her. Her heart was in the right place and really all she did was because she cared about him.

-

-

-

November 5, 1996

Lucius Malfoy was bored. He didn’t only feel bored, but also useless. He was ready to go out there and do something for the Order, even if it meant sacrificing himself. He just couldn’t handle having to stay in one place hidden from the world, trying to keep out of sight so that the rest of them could do something. He sighed. It was frustrating. It was a terrible thing. He heard a pop from the other room and sighed. And there she was again, the woman that was giving him nightmares, literally. Oh, how he hated Nymphadora Tonks and her overly happy persona.

“Lucius!”

Lucius groaned at hearing her call. Couldn’t she just for once forget that he was there, or that she had to check up on him as she had decided that she would have to?

“In the kitchen,” Lucius called out, hoping that her stay this time would not last long.

He didn’t mind the others, not really. They all sneered at him and called him names behind his back. They didn’t trust him. They didn’t like him. He too distrusted them and disliked them; they had a good system going, but with Tonks all the rules were broken. She was nice to him. She seemed to care if something happened to him. She seemed more adamant to keep him within the house lest someone spot him and the news reach Voldemort. Tonks, he realized, was like – no! She was nothing like her.

He shook the memory of her face from his mind and tried to ignore the small pang of loss he still felt at even thinking about her. She was dead. He was never getting her back and it was about time that he tried to get over that. She had died in front of him, he had heard her cry out his name, heard her cry for Draco. Voldemort had killed her, and he would pay for that. Lucius would make sure that he did. Still, deep inside for some reason he felt as if he should not try to forget her. But she was dead.

“There you are!” Tonks skipped into the room with a grin. “So, I got you something. I know you’re using Snape’s clothes,” she wrinkled her nose at the very thought, “So I figured you’d want your own clothes. I went by Diagon Alley this morning and got you some clothes that you can use. The spell on them will make them fit you perfectly and you don’t have to borrow anything from Snape or others. I also used my abilities and pretended to be your wife, so I don’t think it was too much trouble to ask for the kind of clothes you would wear, and I think they’re really great. Really your type – ”

Lucius laughed. “Miss Tonks, I do appreciate everything you have done for me. Thank you. You do not need to go to some much trouble just for me.”

She smiled slightly. "It isn't much trouble. I know what it's like to not be trusted. I know you've done so much for the Order and, I don't know, I really don't like how the rest of them treat you."

"Well, thank you again, Miss Tonks."

"Just Tonks," she said. "Anyway, I have to go. Hope you have a nice day," and with a wave she was gone.

Merlin, he wanted to be useful, and being catered to by a pink haired, overly flamboyant Auror was not his idea of doing something useful at all. He couldn't just lay about doing nothing.

-

-

-

The door opened and slammed against the wall. A man stepped into the small room. He was wearing Death Eater robes, his face covered by a silver mask. Faye looked up from her spot on the small bed that had been pushed into the farthest corner from the door.

"He wants to see you," the Death Eater said.

"Of course he does," she said with a roll of her eyes, even though she stood. She was pressing a cloth against her arm and continued doing so as she followed him out of the room.

"Why not use a potion for that?" The Death Eater asked, looking pointedly at her arm.

She laughed. "My blood is valuable," was all she gave in explanation.

He said nothing in response and then instead continued leading her down a long corridor. After turning into another hall a few minutes later, he looked at her. "I don't understand," he said.

"Don't understand what?" she asked.

"How can you be so, I don't know, so alright with everything? You're not like the rest of them, obviously. I mean I've seen how the others are kept, but you're – oh, I don't know."

She reached out and took his arm, stopping him from walking on. "How old are you, boy?" She asked.

"I'm not really supposed to talk to you," he returned, glancing around nervously.

"I think that's water under the bridge." She gave him a faint smile. "Now, answer the question."

"Eighteen," he said. "Nineteen in December."

"Just two years older," she muttered to herself and then, louder, addressing him, "How long have you been a Death Eater?"

"Just a few months; my father pushed me to do it. He's wonderful, isn't he?"

She shook her head. "I cannot agree with that. You do not know him."

"But I do!" he insisted.

"I am more than twice your age. I have been his prisoner for sixteen years and I can tell you that he has not ever been the man you think him to be. Haven't you learned your history?" She seemed to be almost kidding.

"I was never too interested. I was terrible at school. Why?"

"Ever hear of him before your father made you take the Mark?"

"Well no, but – "

"Then you know nothing, boy," she told him. "Go to a bookstore and ask for something on Harry Potter and You-Know-Who."

"Well, aren’t those lies?" He asked.

"He would want you to think so," Faye told him. "He wouldn't want you to know the truth; it would give him less power over you, which is all he has left in the long run." She gave him a smile. "That is the entire point. That is why you don't know the truth. How long have you been here?"

"Since I joined. I wanted to be useful to him."

"Have you, then, ever been told you go to one of the meetings?"

"A meeting?" He asked confused.

"A Death Eater meeting, that is," Faye explained. "He calls for his Death Eaters, his most loyal, the ones that have become almost as insane as he is, and they talk about taking over the Wizarding world, when they aren't hurting someone. My arm is like this because of them. They are sadistic bastards that just live to hurt other human beings. How do you think I will look after this meeting if they are involved. You, boy, have become involved in a war that your side may very well win, but I will do my hardest to stop it and the more people that do so, the better."

His eyes were wide and surprised and wouldn't leave her arm, the red cloth still pressed against it.

"They hurt people? Innocent people?" He asked.

"Muggles, mostly," Faye added, "Unless someone gets in their way, and a lot of people do. The Order, which is the side fighting this one. I do not officially belong to it, but the moment I escape this place I will."

He looked startled. "You're planning on escaping?"

"Well, what do you think I want most? I want to see my son. I want to see – " She trailed off, and then added, "I want to see him."

"We should get moving," the Death Eater offered.

"Promise me you'll try to get out; you'll see what you're really into. Please."

He nodded slowly and then continued leading her to her meeting with Voldemort. Faye followed rather reluctantly, but as she followed she began to notice that he wasn't exactly leading her the usual way. He was taking her somewhere else.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked.

"To see him," He offered.

"See Voldemort, right?" She asked.

He laughed. "Of course not. I wouldn't have been sent to do that, silly. To see Severus Snape, of course."

"Severus Snape?" She asked eyes wide. "Severus Snape?"

"Yes. He's the Potions Master, you know, I have to listen to him. I figure this is probably going against him, but like you said he is evil. Severus is a Death Eater; then again, there is something about him."

Faye smirked to herself. "Well, hurry then," she said. "I'm leaving this place, aren’t I?"