Harry shoved the last of the food into his bookbag and slung the strap over his shoulder. He hadn’t wanted to raise the elves’ suspicions by asking for too much or for food that was obviously intended for something other than dormitory snacking, but he’d still gotten enough that – once he went back on his Dursely-era diet – it would last him for quite a while. He figured he’d hide out in the Forest until the initial search died down, and then figure out a way to get himself to the city. Hopefully it wouldn’t take more than a week or two.

He gulped as he remembered some of the stories the older kids told about the Forest, but then he reassured himself with Padfoot’s memories. Hadn’t his godfather and the others played in the Forest every full moon? How dangerous could it be? And everyone knew that there was no such thing as a spider as big as a car. The twins were just making them up to scare Ron. Harry remembered a nature program he had once overheard on the telly; it had said that wild animals are much more scared of you than you are of them, so unless you gave them a reason to attack, like trying to pet them or something stupid like that, they’d just leave you alone. That’s how Harry would handle the Forest creatures: he’d leave them alone, and they’d leave him alone.

Harry hurried along the hall. It couldn’t be that much longer to the end of class, and he needed to get away while the corridors were still deserted.

He had just reached the main doors and was pushing them open when they swung shut on him with a resounding bang. Harry jumped in surprise and alarm, but before he could try to open them again, he heard his name. “HARRY JAMES POTTER!” Snape shouted furiously, emerging from the stairwell.

Harry tensed to flee but at a quick spell from Snape, a blue tendril of magic coiled itself around him and then he was sailing backwards to meet his father. He was deposited, none too gently, on his feet, and then two hard hands descended on his shoulders. “What do you think you’re doing?” Snape demanded.

Harry gulped, keeping his head down. What was he supposed to say? If he told his da and the man believed him, he’d fight with the Headmaster and at the very least lose his job. Maybe the Headmaster could even do something worse, like having his da sent to Izkibibble! But what if his da didn’t believe him and thought he really was a dirty lying cheat? Then he might not interfere with the Headmaster’s plans to send Harry back to the Dursleys, and that was an even worse outcome. Harry didn’t think he could survive seeing his father’s countenance grow grim with disdain and condemnation.

“I - I’ve got to go,” he blurted, trying to pull free.

“Oh, no, young man. I think not.” The bell rang and Snape glanced around, then quickly pulled Harry into a nearby unused classroom. “Now. The full story, Mr Potter, and be quick about it.”

Harry still stood, mute, and Snape’s patience evaporated. “I see, you wish to play charades. Very well. Let’s see what we have here.” He pulled off Harry’s hat and relieved him of first his bookbag and then his cloak. “So. We have a naughty child who is dressed in his warmest clothes with – “ a quick glance in the satchel “ – a supply of food. Could you be… planning to run away?” he cooed sarcastically.

Harry gulped and managed a tiny nod.

“And where exactly were you planning to go, you idiot child?”

“I – I w’s gonna hide in the Forbidden Forest,” Hary admitted, his voice nothing but a whisper.

“WHAT!”

He recoiled at the sheer outrage in the man’s voice and cowered in fear despite himself.

Snape forced himself to calm down. From the moment he’d read Weasley’s note and realized Harry was planning to leave Hogwarts, he’d been frantic he wouldn’t find the boy in time. Catching him literally on the threshold of the castle had been bad enough, but then to realize that the little dunderhead had been planning to calmly stroll into the Forbidden Forest as if it weren't filled with hungry man-eating Dark creatures… His fingers itched to slap some sense into the boy, but he took several deep breaths instead. “And why,” he finally was composed enough to ask, “did you feel this was necessary?”

Harry’s eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t tell his father! He couldn’t!

“Harry. You will tell me THIS INSTANT.” Snape’s tone left no room for refusal, and, choking with tears, Harry obeyed.

“ ‘M gonna be expelled an’ I din’t want to go back to the Dursleys, so I – I was gonna hide in the Forest an’ – an’ then run away to London,” Harry whimpered.

Snape blinked rapidly. There was just too much in that statement to process. Expelled? Returned to the Muggles? Run away? The Forest? London?

What in Merlin's name was going on? He’d last seen the boy at breakfast, and everything had been fine!

“Start at the beginning,” he commanded firmly.

Harry struggled to get his tears under control. What was wrong with him? He had to show more courage than this! How was he expecting to survive on the streets if he was such a crybaby? “P-Professor Umbridge,” he started, and Snape swallowed an oath. The Pink Toad! He should have known.

“What about Professor Umbridge?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain relatively calm. “Did she put the notion of expulsion into your head?”

Harry nodded miserably. “She said I cheated, an’ Professor Dumbledore would expel me for sure.”

Snape closed his eyes. He would strangle that woman with her own entrails. “Why did she say that you cheated?” he asked, opening his eyes and focusing his intense gaze on Harry.

“ ‘C-cause her test notes were in my bookbag. But I didn’t take them! I swear!” Harry protested tearfully, his tone frantic. “I wouldn’t! Even Ron thinks I did as a prank, but I didn’t! I didn’t even know we were having a test today! An’ I don’t know where she keeps her papers. I didn’t –“

Snape gestured the boy to silence. He had interrogated many students over the years and he knew sincerity when he heard it. Not that Harry would be the first child to make a foolish mistake, but he would never risk such a punishment, nor did he care enough about grades to want to cheat. It was very early in the term, so Harry was in no jeopardy of failing, and while Snape demanded that the child do his best, Harry knew full well he would not be punished for poor grades. So what possible motivation could he have to cheat? No, it was more likely that someone else was trying to make mischief for Harry… and had succeeded.

Not that that settled matters. “All right,” he interrupted the boy’s pleas to be believed. “But whatever Professor Umbridge may have said, why were you about to run away? Surely you don’t take anything that mor- person says at face value?”

Harry sniffled. At least his da hadn’t – yet – abandoned him in disgust. “You told me that Professor Dumbledore dealt with cheating,” he reminded Snape. “An’ Professor Umbridge said that it was too serious for points or detention, so since students don’t get whipped anymore, the Headmaster would expel me.”

“And the thought of having to leave Hogwarts was so distressing that you immediately made plans to leave Hogwarts?” Snape snapped.

“N-no. But if I couldn’t live here anymore, then I figured Professor Dumbledore would take me back to the Dursleys,” Harry’s voice trembled at the name, “an’ I’d rather live in the Forbidden Forest than with them.”

“Idiot child.” Snape scolded, tugging Harry out of his Weasley jumper. The boy’s face was flushed and at this rate he’d end up with heat stroke. All those layers of clothing were much too warm to wear inside the castle. “Even if you were expelled – which is about as likely as my taking up ballet and dancing the lead to Swan Lake in a white tutu,” he added acidly, managing to surprise a giggle out of Harry, “what on earth made you assume you’d be returned to the Dursleys? Do you not live with me?”

Harry stared at him. “But you live here. An’ if I had t’ leave Hogwarts then the Headmaster wouldn’t let me stay here. An’ I din’t want to make you lose your job or get the Headmaster mad at you.”

“You foolish little boy,” Snape snapped, gesturing a chair over and sinking into it. This had all happened because Harry didn’t want to cause trouble for him? “Do you imagine that having Albus Dumbledore angry with me is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life? First off, even if you were expelled, you would merely live with me here while I arranged for private tutoring. If the Headmaster objected,” he continued, raising a finger to stop Harry’s protests, “then we would move to one of my family homes.”

Harry stared at him. “You mean, you have a house? Of your own?”

“Several,” Snape retorted. “Foolish child.”

Harry blinked. “Y’ mean you’d be willing to leave? But – but what about your job?”

“I am a Potion Master, you ridiculous brat. Do you really imagine I need this job? That I cannot support myself – and you – in perfectly acceptable style through my work with potions?”

Harry was nearly speechless. “R-really?”

Snape used one finger to shut the boy’s dropped jaw. “Yes. And if for whatever reason I had a problem – which I would not – then you could stay temporarily with the Weasleys or your godfather or… Do you see how nonsensically you have behaved, you foolish, foolish child?”

Harry gulped. “B-but I din’t want to get anyone else in trouble with the Headmaster.”

Snape frowned. He had, he admitted to himself, utilized Albus as a bit of a bogeyman in the past, using Harry’s obvious wariness of the man’s past actions to help inspire good behavior, and now the ruse had backfired spectacularly. It was one thing for Harry not to follow the Headmaster blindly. It was another thing for him to fear the wizard more than Voldemort.

Though, to be fair, Dumbledore had – unwittingly or not – harmed Harry at least as much as the Dark Lord. Voldemort had murdered Harry’s parents and unsuccessfully attempted to kill him as well. It had been Albus Dumbledore who had placed Harry into the abusive hands of the Dursleys, prevented any and all attempts to check on him for a decade, and (at best) did nothing when his godfather was unjustly imprisoned. Perhaps Harry’s concern wasn’t all that far-fetched. Still, it could not be allowed to continue.

“Potter, the Headmaster has… made mistakes, but he is not an evil or uncaring man,” he said slowly. “He loves you dearly, that much I know, even if he has made disastrous decisions with regards to your welfare. You need not fear him.”

Harry looked unconvinced, but his panicked expression was slowly dying. He stepped closer to his da. “Are you sure he won’t send me back?” he asked nervously.

“To the Durselys?” Snape inquired. He managed not to smirk as he thought of the shuddering wrecks currently inhabiting Privet Drive. He almost wished he could see their reaction if Harry abruptly returned. They’d probably shriek and hide under the beds. They did that rather a lot these days. “No. Under no circumstance will you be returned to Privet Drive. It is no longer even a remote possibility. You will be fostered with the Longbottoms or Grangers before that would happen, and as I have already indicated, there is a long line of people who would take you before even that became necessary. But you will not, under any circumstances, return to the care of the Dursleys.”

“Or Aunt Marge?” Harry pressed.

“Any of the Durselys,” Snape amended. “I give you my word.”

Harry shuddered as an enormous weight of fear and tension left his body. His da had promised, and his da didn’t lie. Sometimes he told Harry things that he wished weren’t true, like how Volauvent had killed his parents, but he had never, ever lied to Harry. For the first time since that awful DADA class, Harry began to feel safe.

So of course he burst into tears.

Several minutes later, he managed to get himself under control. He was sitting on his da’s knee and he was – again – getting snot and tears all over his da’s robes, but his da didn’t seem to mind. Harry tried to mop up some of the mess, and a handkerchief was pressed into his hands. “Do you need my help to blow?” his da asked, rather snarkily.

Harry honked and blew. He couldn’t really blame his da. He was nearly 12, for Merlin’s sake! And look at him, bawling like a toddler. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Snape stifled a sigh at the miserable child in his lap. He needed to curb that sharp tongue of his, even if his best robes were now liberally smeared with disgusting body fluids. It was hardly Harry’s fault – he had been terrorized by that Pink Toad Bitch Witch From Hell. “It is all right, Mr Potter. You have had an atrocious day. Marcus Flint would have been reduced to tears in your place.”

Harry had to giggle at the mental image of big, burly Flint blubbering on Professor Snape’s lap. For one thing, he was as tall as the professor, so his da would practically disappear underneath the muscular student.

Snape noted the watery smile with satisfaction. Ha. I’ve still got it. “Are you feeling better?”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m not gonna be sent to the Dursleys,” he said firmly, though his eyes quickly sought Snape’s for reassurance.

“That is correct. You need never worry about that again.”

Harry nodded his understanding, and Snape felt his body relax even further. A moment of silence passed, then, “Da?”

“Yes?”

“I was kinda stupid today, yeah?”

“Yes. Perhaps you can enumerate the examples for me?”

Harry looked up at him sheepishly. “Well, I believed Umbitch – erm, I mean Professor Umbridge… An’ I tried to run away… An’ – uh – I was gonna hide in the Forbidden Forest.”

“And?” Snape demanded.

Harry thought hard. “Erm… I lied to the elves to get food?”

Snape scowled at him. “No, you dunderheaded brat. Your biggest mistake today was that you were in trouble and you did not come to me. You thought that you were supposed to protect me, when it is the parent who protects the child, not the other way around. You forgot all the many adults who love you and who will protect and take care of you. You tried to take care of everything all by yourself, which is both unnecessary and ill-advised. At eleven, you do not have the necessary resources to look after yourself properly. Did you not ask me to assume that role? How am I supposed to safeguard your welfare if you do not tell me when something is wrong, silly child?”

Oh. Harry squirmed at the recitation. It was both awful and wonderful at the same time. Awful because it made Harry seem like such a nitwit. Wonderful because he had never, ever, in his whole life felt as safe as he did just then.

“ “M sorry,” he said, snuggling closer to his dad and trying to prevent the grin of sheer happiness from spreading all over his face.

Another few moments of quiet passed, and Harry thought some more about what his da had said. “Da?” he said, rather more tentatively.

“Yes?” Snape sighed. All this emotion was going to give him a migraine. Wasn’t the boy recovered yet?

“Are you gonna… Erm, that is, did I…” Frustrated at his own incoherence, Harry just gave up. “You’re gonna whack me, right?” he asked bluntly.

“I am?” Snape echoed before he could stop himself. It was the Pink Toad on whom he really wanted to vent his wrath, but as he recalled how blithely Harry had proposed to camp out in the Forbidden Forest, he could feel his blood pressure rise. Perhaps a few sharp smacks to the brat’s behind would not be a bad idea. On the other hand, the Toad had already frightened Harry half to death and that was probably enough punishment for such a sensitive child.

He snarled to himself. That witch was going to pay…

Harry shifted uneasily on his da’s lap. He had disobeyed the rule about not going into the Forbidden Forest – or he’d been prepared to disobey it, anyway. And running away like that, when they didn’t even know where Voldemold was, would have been pretty dangerous… In fact his whole plan was, Harry now realized, pretty stupid, and he remembered what his da said about stupidity always being punished. He sighed. He had definitely earned himself a smacking, regardless of whatever else he got for the alleged cheating.

He glanced at his da. Yup, he looked pretty fierce. Resignedly, Harry slid off his da’s lap, then draped himself over the man’s knee. Not that his da had ever whacked him in that position before, generally just turning him around to give him a light slap, but Harry knew he had really earned this smacking. The troll and the rememberall and even the football at the Weasleys had sort of been accidents, but this time he’d deliberately set out to break the rules. This time, he deserved every whack, though he suspected his da wouldn’t be able to be too hard on him. The man really hated to give spankings, and Harry felt bad for being dumb enough to earn one, forcing his da to have to deliver it.

Still, if they were going to face the Headmaster, it was important to show that his da didn’t let him get away with any naughtiness, and maybe his having a sore bum would convince the Headmaster that Harry had been suitably punished for the cheating offense. “ ‘M ready,” he said encouragingly. “Three whacks, yeah? For stupidity an’ endangerin’ myself an’ for disobedience.”

Snape had been paralyzed with shock when the brat had abruptly laid himself across his knee. What in Merlin’s name was he supposed to do now? And three swats? Where had that come from? Hadn’t he promised the boy a maximum of two?

On the other hand, Harry could hardly make his expectations more clear, and the books did say to follow the child’s lead, where appropriate. Snape glared down at the waiting trouser seat. Why was it always him who had to be the awful, stern disciplinarian?

Of course, painting Albus in that light was what had gotten him into this trouble in the first place, and it was apparent from Harry’s expectant look that he didn’t really fear Snape’s punishments… He gritted his teeth and raised his hand. Think about the boy wandering in the Forbidden Forest. Think about Harry alone on the streets of London. Think about Harry freezing to death in a snowdrift.

That did it. His fury at the child who had caused him such terror came flooding back, and he managed a very respectable whack to Harry’s backside.

“Ouch!” the brat said obligingly.

A second smack, equally as hard, fell briskly on the same spot, and Harry’s reaction, while not yet in the Weasleys’ league, nevertheless made it clear that he had wholly abandoned the “hold still and no yelling” rule that his uncle had laid down.

Snape faltered, uncertain as to whether to deliver a third, but Harry showed no signs of rising, though he was squirming a bit. Snape waited a moment, then laid one more crisp slap on the wiggling bum.

“Ow!” Harry greeted the final spank with a yelp, his hands immediately reaching back to grab his smarting behind.

Harry grimaced as his hands gingerly tried to soothe his outraged bottom. His histrionics weren’t merely for show; this time his da hadn’t just tapped him. While none of the swats had been as hard as the smack he’d gotten for flying in the Great Hall, that punishment had been a single wallop. This time his da had administered three sharp swats, and though it came nowhere near an Uncle Vernon – or even, he suspected, an Auntie Molly – whacking, his rear still stung.

He pouted a bit as he rubbed, but then an encouraging thought occurred to him. If the Headmaster wanted proof that his da had properly punished him, he’d have it. Harry was pretty sure that three pink handprints currently adorned his bum.

Snape gave the boy a moment before hoisting him to his feet. He cast an anxious glance over Harry’s face, but the boy was dry eyed. “Those were hard!” the brat informed him, but the man could detect neither reproach nor distress in the tone. If anything, the boy sounded faintly admiring and a bit relieved.

“See that you recall it the next time you contemplate such a dunderheaded stunt,” Snape managed to snap, though he fingered the vial of healing potion he kept in his pocket as he watched Harry shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, wincing a bit.

“I will,” Harry promised. He paused for a moment, then: “C'n we go to the Headmaster’s office now?”

His father had (for a change) used a bit of force while smacking his backside, but Harry now possessed – thanks to his da’s close attention to his dietary habits – significantly more padding on that part of his anatomy than he’d had upon his arrival to Hogwarts. As a result, the effects of the spanking were unlikely to last more than a few minutes, and Harry wanted to arrive at the Headmaster’s while proof of his punishment was still evident, just in case Professor Umbridge had a better understanding of the Headmaster's character than his da did.

His da was so nice that he probably thought the best of most people, but Harry wasn’t so sure. Still, if he showed up with his bum reddened (well, a little pinkened anyway), maybe the Headmaster would decide not to pursue other, harsher penalties for the cheating incident. Harry really didn’t want to get his da into trouble, and he knew Snape would defy the Headmaster rather than make Harry submit to any severe punishment.

“Perhaps we should wait until later,” Snape said, frowning. “I think you need a chance to rest after your… chastisement.” He didn’t want Harry to feel overwhelmed. He’d just had an emotional outburst in reaction to the morning’s terror, and immediately thereafter he had been soundly smacked. Surely the child should have a few hours to compose himself before dealing with the accusation of cheating.

“No, please, Da! I really want to get it over with,” Harry pleaded, and in the end Snape acquiesced.

He led the way to the Headmaster’s office. Dumbledore must have expected them, for Snape had time to do nothing but glare at the gargoyle before it jumped aside. He started up the staircase, only to realize that Harry was lagging behind, a frightened look on his face. He firmly took the boy by the shoulder. They were here to get it over with, and that’s what they would do.

They entered the office to find Dumbledore and Umbridge there. “Headmaster,” Snape said formally, merely nodding at Umbridge. As much as he would have liked to wring her neck right then and there, he suspected Albus would interfere.

That was all right. He would deal with The Pink Toad later. Right now he needed to focus on convincing Harry of the headmaster's kindly nature.

“Ah, Severus. And Harry! There you are, my boy. I understand there was some excitement in your class this morning.”

Harry hung back. He knew his da had said not to worry, but he still felt his stomach lurch with dread. Umbridge was standing there smirking at him, as if she and the Headmaster had already agreed on his expulsion. Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind the desk, the half-smile he always wore on his lips. He looked like a kindly old grandfather, but Harry wasn’t fooled. This was the man who had sent him to the Dursleys and left him there like an unwanted package for ten long years. This was the man who had watched them drag Sirius away without so much as a trial. He swallowed hard. “Y’sir,” he whispered.

Unconsciously, his hand went to his still-tingling rear and gave it a careful rub. Umbridge’s eye followed the movement, and her face lit up in a satisfied smile. She glanced rather dismissively at Dumbledore. “Well, whatever your opinion may be, Headmaster, it’s obvious there are other professors in the school who feel as I do.” She beamed at Snape before turning a nasty smile on Harry. “Mr Potter, I can see that you have been appropriately punished for your actions. A good swishing perhaps?”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but he wasn’t about to argue with a faculty member in front of the headmaster. He ducked his head and mumbled something which Umbridge blithely took as agreement. “I am so happy to find like-minded members of the faculty, Professor Snape,” she simpered, heading for the door. “I’m sure that between us we can enforce standards of proper behavior here.”

Snape managed not to cast an Unforgiveable as she fluttered her eyelashes at him then exited the room. He turned back to where Harry was still studying the floor and rubbing his backside while Albus watched him sadly.

“While I am sure you did not in fact use a cane,” Albus said to the Potion Master, his voice heavy with disappointment, “I’m nevertheless dismayed that you found it necessary to punish Harry in such a fashion. It is true that cheating is a despicable offense, but young boys often do foolish things.”

Harry’s heart sped up. Did the headmaster just say that he was upset that his da didn’t use a cane on him? He edged closer to Snape, just in case the headmaster decided to hex him the way Remus said some Wizarding parents did.

Snape noticed Harry’s movement and sighed. Obviously his earlier words hadn’t been enough to convince the brat. “Headmaster, Potter was not punished for cheating, because despite what that b–“ he remembered the boy’s presence in the nick of time “ – witch may have told you, he did not cheat.”

Harry moved closer still. Ooooh, here it came. The headmaster wasn’t going to like being told he was wrong. He sneaked a look. Yup. The headmaster was frowning.

“But if that is true, Severus, then why is it apparent that Harry is… uncomfortable?”

“He was not punished for the erroneous charge of cheating, Headmaster, but he did receive a smacking for intending to risk his life with a disobedient and foolish plan to run away, first to camp in the Forbidden Forest and then to live rough on the streets of London.”

Harry colored. Okay, it sounded really stupid if you phrased it like that.

Albus opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to ask, “To live in – and then to go to – but why? Why would Harry want to do such a thing?” Abruptly his eyebrows drew together in a fearsome frown. “Was he that frightened of your reaction, Severus?”

Snape took a deep breath. This was not going to be pleasant: Albus was going to be devastated. “No, Headmaster. He was that frightened of your reaction. Professor Umbridge convinced him that you would expel him based on those ludicrous charges, and he feared that once you had done that, you would return him to the Dursleys. He preferred to face acromantulas and pederasts than to return to that household.”

And now Snape saw what he had never even imagined. The great and wise and all-knowing Albus Dumbledore was absolutely gobsmacked. “Harry feared ME?” he demanded, his hands disbelievingly coming up to point at his own chest.

In response, Severus just glanced down at the boy who was now more or less hiding behind him. Harry’s body languge spoke volumes.

Albus’ gaze darted wildly around the room, from the dishes of lemon drops to his shelves of fascinating gizmos to Fawkes regarding him sadly from his perch. It was as if he were trying to reassure himself that he, Albus Dumbledore, acclaimed wizard and well-known doting old coot, could not possibly be thought of as a scary and cruel tyrant. Didn’t students come to him to avoid punishment and scoldings? How could Harry Potter, the child he most loved and worried about, possibly fear him?

“But why would he?” he finally managed to make his voice work. “Did you say something to –“ Dumbledore broke off and flushed. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

Snape inclined his head, silently accepting the apology. “Headmaster, the boy is not a dunce. He is well aware that you were responsible for his placement after his parents were killed, and that hardly gave him reason to trust your judgment. Hearing how the Wizengamot, under your leadership, declined to become involved when his godfather was unjustly accused of mass murder further eroded any confidence in your beneficence.” He put one hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently drew him forward. “Professor Umbridge built upon that fear by promising that you would expel him for cheating. Not unreasonably, he assumed this meant that you would return him to his pre-Hogwarts home – the home you had chosen for him and left him in for all those years.”

Harry had resisted his da’s pull at first, but Snape would not be denied, and he was unwillingly guided from his place of refuge to stand in front of the Headmaster. He kept his eyes on the floor, the way Uncle Vernon always preferred, though he didn’t realize he had ducked his head and hunched his shoulders as if expecting a blow. The stance wasn’t lost on the two men, however, and Albus felt his heart splinter in pain. If he needed any further evidence that he had totally and horribly erred that fateful day in Godric’s Hollow, this was it.

“Harry.” Despite all his efforts, his voice broke.

Startled, Harry glanced up and was thunderstruck by what he saw. The Headmaster was crying! Big fat tears were rolling down his cheeks, and his eyes were the saddest Harry had ever seen. His whole expression was one of utter desolation and guilt.

Unconsciously, Harry straightened up and moved closer, transfixed by the sight. He’d never seen an adult weep before – certainly not over him. The Headmaster didn’t try to hide his tears, either. He just sat there and let the tears flow.

“Pr’fessor?” he asked wonderingly, taking a step nearer the desk. “Are you all right?”

Albus’ voice cracked as he replied. “No, Harry. I have only now realized how grievously my foolish decisions have harmed you. I am so very, very sorry.”

Harry squirmed a bit. He didn’t want to cause anyone such distress. “It’s okay,” he offered, moving around the desk and tentatively patting the elderly wizard’s shoulder. “I’m all right now.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes in pain. “You show me a kindness I do not deserve, Harry. I have caused you such suffering over the years – all because in my arrogance, I was convinced I knew better than anyone else. I was so certain I was right, I never bothered to check. I had decided what would be best for you, and I would not let anyone tell me otherwise.” He opened his eyes and directed a pleading look at Harry. “I do not expect you to forgive me, child, now or ever, but can you please try to believe me when I tell you that I truly thought I was doing the right thing? That I was giving you the best, most happy home I possibly could?”

The naked anguish on the man’s face was impossible to miss, as was his patent sincerity. Harry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and nodded.

“Harry, your parents loved you so much… I loved you so much. I wanted you to stay the happy baby I knew. I thought that there could be no better place for you than with family. You were such a beautiful, friendly baby – I never imagined that everyone else wouldn’t love you as much as I did…I was such a fool, Harry. Such an old fool. Only seeing what I wanted to see.” Albus finally broke down and sobbed, burying his face in his hands.

“Pr’fessor, don’t cry,” Harry begged, patting Dumbledore on the back. “Please don’t cry! I’m okay, honest!” He sent a frantic glance over to his da, and Snape – desperately wishing he were anywhere else, even Umbridge’s bathtub – came forward to help.

“Albus, please try to control yourself,” he said awkwardly, stationing himself at the wizard’s other shoulder and emulating Harry’s comforting pats. “You are upsetting Potter.” He fumbled in his robe, desperately hoping that, in addition to the healing potion, he also had a calming draught in his pocket.

He summoned a house elf and ordered tea, then added a large dollop of calming draught to the cup before handing it to Albus. By then, the Headmaster had managed to regain his composure and was smiling weakly at a still-worried Harry, who remained at his side.

“Thank you, my boys. I truly do not deserve your compassion,” he said softly. “I have failed you both so terribly.”

“Erm, well, we could just pretend to start over,” Harry offered, hating to see anyone as dreadfully unhappy as the Headmaster clearly was. “I mean, you won’t do it again, right?”

Snape muffled a snort – Typical Gryffindor! – while Albus smiled at the boy. “No, my boy, that I won’t. I rather think Professor Snape will hex me to pieces if I were ever even to think of such a thing.”

“So you won’t send me back to the Dursleys?” Harry asked, just to be certain. “Not ever?”

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. “Not ever, Harry. You will never again see them, unless you choose to do so. I give you my Wizard’s Oath that I shall never send you back there.”

Harry relaxed and blew out his breath in a whoosh. “Good!”

“Do you remember that your professor made me promise him that same thing on the very first night he brought you here?”

Harry blinked. “He did? Y’mean that first night I had detention with him?”

Albus nodded, ignoring Snape’s scowl. “Yes. After he learned of your relatives’ treatment and brought you here, he said to me, ‘I assure you that, blood wards or no, he will not be returning there again.’ He would never have permitted you to be returned to the Dursleys. Not by me or anyone else.”

Harry glanced back at his da. He didn’t recall that, but to be fair, a lot of that night was kind of a blur. He’d been in such pain, even before the knock on the head, that he wasn’t really paying a lot of attention. Wow! That proved that even before he had agreed to be Harry’s guardian, Professor Snape was already looking after him.

“I hate to intrude upon such a nauseating stroll down Memory Lane,” Snape said forbiddingly, “but we still have the issue of Madame Umbridge’s charges to address.”

“Oh, yes.” Albus looked pensive. “Harry, do you know how your teacher’s notes ended up in your satchel?”

Harry shook his head vehemently. “It wasn’t me!”

“That wasn’t the question,” Snape scolded. “No one is doubting your veracity, foolish boy, we are trying to solve the mystery of how the scroll was placed there. If you didn’t do it, then who had access?”

“Oh.” Harry relaxed again and thought hard. “I dunno, Da. I mean, we were all walking together. I guess someone could’ve slipped it into my bag before we got into class, but how would they have had the notes then? An’ I don’t see how they could’ve done it after we got to class. My bag was right next to me at the desk. I would’ve seen someone reaching into it or levitatin’ a scroll to it.”

“And yet they were placed there somehow.” Snape’s frown deepened. This was sounding less like a schoolyard prank and more like a serious threat against Harry.

Albus patted the boy gently on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harry. We will discover the truth. In the meantime, try not to let Professor Umbridge upset you. After all, whoever tricked you tricked her as well, but I suspect she is less willing to admit her error.”

Harry scowled, looking remarkably like Snape. “Y’mean, she’s still gonna go around saying I’m a cheat?”

Dumbledore sighed. “I will speak with her and tell her that the matter was explained to my satisfaction, but I imagine she will remain unconvinced. After all, Harry, she does not know you personally, and you must admit the evidence was rather incriminating.”

“I guess,” Harry agreed reluctantly. “But I’m not gonna be punished, am I?” he added anxiously as the thought struck him.

“No,” the Headmaster assured him firmly. “I will inform Professor Umbridge that the matter is closed.”

“Okay.” Harry figured it was the best he could do. Umbitch would doubtless go on making snotty comments about him in class, but she would have done that no matter what. At least he had learned he didn’t have to fear the Headmaster, and he now knew to go to his da when he was in trouble – no matter what kind.

“Would you like a lemon drop, Harry?” Dumbledore invited. Snape rolled his eyes; obviously the Headmaster was feeling better.

“D’you have any chocolate?” Harry asked hopefully, then squeaked as his father’s hand clipped him lightly on the bum.

“Manners, Mr Potter!” Snape scolded.

Albus laughed. “Now, Severus, it is perfectly all right for Harry to express a preference. Just because I like lemon drops doesn’t mean everyone else does.” Snape snorted as Albus searched through his desk drawers. “Now where is that box of frogs…? Ah, here we go.”

Harry happily accepted a chocolate frog, avoiding his da’s gimlet gaze.

“No pudding tonight,” Snape ordered sternly.

Harry nodded agreeably. “That’s okay. It’s rhubarb crumble tonight,” he explained to the Headmaster, wrinkling his nose.

Albus wrinkled his in return. “Oh dear. I don’t really care for rhubarb either. Perhaps we should see what else we can find in my desk.”

Snape glowered as the two candy-lovers happily explored Albus’ stash. He knew trouble when he saw it.