The boy sat on the edge of his worn bed, one foot dangling down to the floor, slowly moving in circles, the other knee tucked up under his chin, his thin arms wrapped tightly around it. He was gazing out of the darkened window, where the reflection of his pale face could barely be made out. The boy had been staring for the past hour, unmoving, barely blinking, just staring at himself without emotion.

This boy was not given much to introspection, nor did he believe in becoming maudlin. The reason the window had garnered his undivided attention was much simpler than that; exactly an hour ago, when the clock struck midnight and the boy had turned fourteen, he had glanced at the window and seen a face that was not his own.

Now, an hour later, the boy’s patience paid off and the face appeared again, only this time it did not fade away. The boy stood and crept cautiously over to the window, eyes wide to catch the first hint of the face disappearing. The street light outside flickered and abruptly went out. Then another, and another, and another, until the whole street was dark and the boy was left shivering and frightened, staring at a pale reflection whose only visible similarity was that it was wearing his clothes.

The shade and the boy stood and stared at each other for a minute that stretched into eternity, before the boy in the glass reached out and beckoned the other to him. The first boy tiptoed forward and reached his hand out to touch the other boy’s through the glass, not understanding the meaning or the reason behind this apparition’s appearance.

The child reverently traced the shade’s features. First the nose, which appeared to have a slight kink in it, then the eyebrows, elegantly arching beneath his questing fingertips. Next, the mouth, the top lip thin and expressive, the sharpness belied by the full pout of the lower lip. The chin was sharp, but its jaw was well-rounded, giving the child in the window an open, eager look. The deep chocolate hair of the child, long and silky, was smoothed over as the young boy marvelled at its straightness. The fingers left the hair and slid over one high cheekbone, towards the apparition’s eyes.

The boy in the glass slowly opened the long-lashed eyelids, once the exploration came to an end, having closed them while the inspection was taking place almost as though he were enjoying the attention. The first boy stood still, his breath misting the window slightly as he peered into identical, emerald green orbs.

“You’re me, aren’t you?” he whispered.

The reflection tilted its head slightly in acknowledgement, green eyes sparkling.

“Tell me,” the boy breathed as he leaned closer to the window. “Are you happy?”

The reflection quirked its lips, before nodding again.

“Good,” the boy sighed as he curled up against the window. “At least one of us is. Are your parents alive? Mine are long dead.”

The brown-haired boy held up one finger before pointing at the boy in the room and holding up the finger again nodding vigorously.

“Me too? Nah, I know my parents didn’t survive, I’m glad you’ve got one though, it must be really nice.”

The brown-haired boy threw up his hands in despair before pointing at his black-haired counterpart with determination. The black-haired boy stared slightly, brows rising in amusement.

“Me,” he said slowly.

The reflection nodded and pointed to itself.

“And you.”

Another nod and this time the counterpart held up one finger on each hand before, slowly bringing them together.

“We’re the same?” The black-haired boy laughed in amusement at the energetic nodding. Who knew having a conversation with yourself was so much fun? If the boy had known he would have tried it much sooner.

The reflection grinned at him as his quiet mirth ran its course. The boy had not had much chance for amusement in his life. A few moments later the shade rapped silently on the glass as a cue to resume to conversation. He held up one finger.

“One?”

A cradling gesture was made.

“Child, oh no, no, parent!”

A point in his direction and a gesture to encompass them both.

“What?” The child wrinkled his nose, before his eyes went wide in astonishment. “What!” he yelped as quietly as he could, whirling to face the window and pressing both hands to the glass, “You mean… I have a parent too?” Tears started in his eyes as he saw the other boy nod. “But who?”

The other boy smiled and pressed a finger to his lips for secrecy.

“No, no!” the boy cried as he beat his fists against the window. “Please! Please tell me! I have to know!” He became even more frantic as he saw his counterpart begin to fade, his own features starting to show through on the glass. “No, no, no, no! Please don’t leave me, please!” the last word seemed torn from his lips. “I’m so lonely; please tell me about my family!”

Tears scorched down the black-haired child’s face, making the shade’s features blur and distort until he wasn’t sure if the boy had gone already, leaving him staring at his own distraught face. Whimpering, he pressed his face flush against the glass.

An indefinite amount of time passed before he found the strength to lift his head. The other boy was waiting for him, a small smile lighting his face when he saw the first boy looking up.

The raven-haired teen touched the side of the other’s cheek. “You will come back won’t you?” A nod. “You won’t leave me alone?” A feverent shake. “Will you tell me who our parent is?” A shrug.

The first boy sat back on his heels and regarded the second. “Am I supposed to find out for myself?”

This earned him the first full-blown grin he had ever seen from the other boy, causing him to scrub the remainder of the tear tracks off his face and grin back.

“So, I have to find out for myself, but that’s okay, ‘cos I’m good at snooping.” A sly look was exchanged. “Is it someone I already know?” A nod. “So, that narrows it down a bit, but I’ve met quite a lot of people in my life…”

He looked at the reflection and smiled again. “Thank you for your help and especially your company, I guess you already know how lonely it gets ‘round here.”

The reflection nodded sadly, before pillowing its head on its hands and closing its eyes then pulling them away and waving at the first boy.

“Yeah, I’m tired too, goodnight.” The other boy turned away. “Oh, and Shadow?” The boy turned back. “Happy Birthday, Harry!”

The brown-haired boy mouthed the words back at him and waved again before disappearing, leaving the first boy staring at his own scrawny reflection.

One by one, the street-lamps all flickered on again, the magic that had restrained them dissipating and restoring Privet Drive to its former orange-lit glory. Harry Potter stood at the window, staring out onto the street, marvelling at how much change each of his birthdays had brought into his life ever since he had turned eleven.

He was no longer alone and someone had wished him ‘Happy Birthday’ to his face for the second time in as long as he could remember. Grinning, he reached over and tickled Hedwig behind the ear as she watched him with sleepy, amber eyes. She was there because Harry had asked everyone to save his presents so he could open them when he got back to school.

At his real home, with his real family, no matter what torments each year seemed to bring, he wouldn’t give Hogwarts up for the world.

He crawled back into bed and wound the blanket tightly around him, staring up at the ceiling as pleasant butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Maybe his luck was about to change. Maybe, this year, he could truly take the meaning of family a step further and get what he’d wanted for as long as he could remember.

He sighed and hummed in contentment as he drifted off to sleep, never noticing the translucent face that peeped out from the window, watching with solemn eyes as he was carried away by his dreams.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus Snape sat, staring thoughtfully into his fireplace which was currently filled with dancing, orange flames, trying to discern what indefinable feeling was keeping him from going to his bed. Superstition, to Severus, was utterly ludicrous in all its various forms, but instinct had kept him alive for many years and at this moment, Severus’ instinct had all his nerves awake and jangling.

He had already contacted Albus two hours previously to confirm that nothing truly suspicious was going on, only to be met by a bemused Headmaster who was obviously in the process of getting ready for bed. After a few minutes of conversation Albus assured him that, no, nothing had happened, but that he would keep an eye out just in case.

Severus settled deeper into his chair, a little guilty that he had disturbed Albus on one of the nights he didn’t need to be all things to all people, and who was now no doubt working through all the various options that could be causing Severus distress. Severus snarled and chucked his glass of Merlot into the fire, watching it explode with a satisfying smash.

If he didn’t already know better, he would say that it was Potter, as the boy was almost solely responsible for all the major headaches Severus encountered during the school year. However, the boy was safely ensconced in the house of his Muggle relatives and shouldn’t be able to get up to any kind of mischief at all.

Maybe it’s because it’s the brat’s birthday, a date for chaos if ever there was one! About an hour after July the thirtieth became July the thirty-first, Severus had felt a deep tug in his belly as though he had just recalled something thoroughly unpleasant and the subsequent aftertaste of the memory had left him reeling. It would make sense if this was the source of his disquiet after the irritation he’d come across the last time he had spoken with the boy…

~~~~~~

On the last day of the summer term Potter stayed back after class, a look of stubborn determination etched into his face. His compatriots showed no such courage, fleeing from the room as if Severus had threatened to lock them in.

Nice idea, Severus thought as he watched the Potter brat sidle closer to his desk, deterrent sneer firmly in place, Stun Potter, lock the door and make a break for it down the secret passage leading to my office. That way it wouldn’t be possible for the little cretin to get into any kind of mischief over the summer…

“Why d’you do it?” That earned the boy a customised sneer.

“Why did I do what, Mr Potter? Do articulate,” Severus drawled as he watched the boy draw in a deep breath…

“Tell me why you forced Professor Lupin into leaving Hogwarts! All he ever did was side with Sirius over you! Why take it out on him when Sirius was the one who escaped? You can’t honestly tell me you hold him responsible for a prank he knew nothing about!” The boy’s response started off as sulky, but escalated until he was fairly screeching out the last phrase, making Severus’ right hand itch to discipline the boy. He had no respect for any kind of authority!

“Are you currently in the habit of questioning grown-ups’ motives? Think you know better than them do you?” Severus was careful to moderate his tone, knowing his indifference and disregard for any of the matters Potter had brought up would infuriate the boy further.

“No, sir.”

Severus fought to keep from smirking. The boy had evidently lost his nerve after the initial outburst; he refused to look Severus in the eye anymore and was instead studying the floor slightly to the left of his teacher, twisting his school robes ferociously between his hands.

“Then you understand you are in no position to make demands of adults, let alone with so little respect! Fifty points from Gryffindor for your blatant cheek!” Severus knew well that this would put Gryffindor behind Slytherin in the running for the House Cup. Never let it be said that Slytherins were not opportunists.

The boy paled as predicted. “But, sir… fifty points…”

“Do you wish it to be more? Get out of my sight, and don’t you dare say you didn’t deserve it.”

An odd expression came over Potter’s face and Severus watched as the little menace lifted his chin in defiance, nodded and walked out of the open classroom door without another word. Severus frowned and tried to remember precisely who made the sharp, jutting motion with their chin that Potter had executed so perfectly…

~~~~~~

Yes, Severus mused, a reminder of Potter would definitely explain the sense of foreboding. Anything to do with that brat was maddening in the extreme so such an aide memoire of him should be met with the appropriate disgust.

Conscience reassured, Severus forced the cork into the Merlot and went to bed.

“Mr Potter,” came the silky drawl. All the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. “Is there a reason your Delirium Draught,” a derisive pause, “appears to be orange?”

“No, sir,” Harry gritted out.

“Really, Mr Potter? You took it upon yourself to cast a modification charm for no good reason?” Another pause echoed in the silent classroom, and Harry ached to strangle the smug git. “Or could it possibly be that your ineptitude has caused to fall below even Mr Longbottom’s poor standards?”

The Slytherins snickered loudly into their caldrons, and Harry glared down ferociously at his potion which was, indeed, orange. He wouldn’t lose his temper, he just wouldn’t!

Snape ladled up a bit of the potion, and let it slosh back into the caldron. “Absolutely despicable. Well? Nothing to say in your defence, Mr Potter?” A malicious smile curled the thin lips. “Or are you waiting for your favourite Defence Professor to bail you out… again?”

Malfoy was now outright laughing at the Potions Master’s revenge for Harry making a fool out of them both during the Hogsmeade fiasco. Snape didn’t take the slightest bit of notice; his eyes boring into Harry and making him feel like a specimen in one of Snape’s jars. An angry specimen.

Harry raised his head and locked eyes with the Potions Master – green eyes glittering, lips pressed so tightly together that they were white. Harry’s hands twisted frantically in his robes under the table as though trying to wring out the humiliation, the distress, he was feeling. He hated them! Hated them, hated…

“Up! Get up!” the shrill voice snapped out, accompanied by the metallic rattling of the locks as they slid out of their resting places. The dream shattered apart like so many pieces of glass.

Harry groaned and flopped out of bed. A tension headache already forming was testament to him falling asleep much later than he usually would. He looked at the clock and groaned. It was six in the morning! That meant that he had only spent four hours asleep! His body was strongly protesting that teenage boys needed a lot more rest than that – preferably about six hours more.

Blearily he kicked his feet into his trainers as he headed out of the room, snagging his glasses along the way. He always slept in his clothes when spending his summers at the Dursleys’, knowing they would expect him to be up and about the second they called him. It didn’t matter how he looked during the summer; his relatives did not care about his appearance. In fact, they even appeared to derive pleasure from how scruffy he looked compared to their precious ‘Diddy-kins.’

Harry crept into the kitchen, feet swimming in the boats that were his shoes, hoping to start the breakfast before Aunt Petunia got angry with him for dawdling. Unfortunately for Harry, his Aunt was already waiting for him, box of cleaning supplies at the ready. She quickly shoved it into his arms.

“Bathroom!” she snapped. “I want every inch spick and span by this evening. Vernon’s got guests coming from work and if anything like last time happens, Boy,” she broke off and eyed him with dislike, “you’ll be sleeping in the shed from here on in! As it is, you’re spending tonight out there, we don’t need you anywhere near us!”

The boy nodded, “Yes, Aunt Petunia,” before scurrying up to the bathroom.

Urgh! It looked like Aunt Petunia wasn’t performing to her usual cleaning standards. For some reason the bath had a dark ring of muck around the edge. It would take ages to scrub; the tiles had a slightly murky cast, and the sink was covered in so many toiletry messes it looked as though Dudley had been having toothpaste-painting competitions in there.

This is gonna take ages! He sighed and grabbed up an old cloth and the bottle of ‘Bar Keeper’s Friend’ – Aunt Petunia always was a great believer in elbow grease – and walked determinedly towards the bathtub. Time to start scrubbing, he thought as he mentally catalogued the toilet to be the last on his to-do list.

The shampoo stains were tough: the streaks of indefinable gunk were even worse, more importantly because Harry kept finding them after he thought he’d finally finished. Chucking the cloth and bottle down, he ducked out into the hall to check the time; it was almost half-past seven. This meant that Uncle Vernon would be up and moving about very soon – preparing for another full day at Grunnings – and Harry hadn’t even finished the bath yet!

Harry walked back to the sink and leaned his hands on the sides, dropping his head forward with a sigh, and trying to unknot some of the tension that had crept up his spine. Rolling his neck from side to side, he lifted his head and stared into a face that was not his own.

With a stifled yell, Harry leapt clean across the bathroom, flattening himself against the opposite wall. When his heartbeat had slowed to less than one hundred beats a second, he realised his reflection was laughing at him.

“You know, that’s really freaky when you’re not expecting it,” he told the mirror, unable to suppress his own smile. The last of his fatigue fell away and he eagerly approached the mirror, more relieved than he let on that last night had not been a dream.

The brown-haired boy had the same blue bruises beneath his eyes that Harry did, telling of their late night and early-rising. Their exhaustion, however, did not diminish their delighted smiles at seeing each other again. Harry noticed first.

“Hey, you have the same teeth as me!”

That probably was a pretty stupid thing to say, Harry thought as he watched his double laugh so hard that he fell over.

“Err, hello? Come back?” It was extremely disconcerting to look into a mirror and see nothing there. He wasn’t a vampire after all!

The counterpart’s flushed face came back into view as he clawed his way up the sink on the other side of the glass. He looked out at Harry, rolled his eyes, and tapped the side of his head three times.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m crazy, aren’t we all?” Harry grabbed his cleaning utensils and started on the sink before something occurred to him. “What d’you want me to call you? Shall I keep calling you Shadow, or do you want to be Harry too?”

The reflection shrugged, pressing his fingertips to the side of his temple then pointing towards Harry.

“I… think? No wait, decide!” Harry exclaimed, getting a thumbs up for his pains. He thought for a moment. “Shadow it is then, nobody in their right mind would want to be ‘famous Harry Potter’ if they had the choice.”

Shadow patted the mirror sympathetically as Harry got on with his chores.

“So, I’ve been thinking about what you said about our parents, and I reckon our Mum is still the same ‘cos we’ve both got her eyes, so it must be our Dad that’s different.”

Shadow grinned and nodded.

“So that’s that, then. Don’t reckon I can do anything about it until I get back to Hogwarts.” Harry was silent as he battled a particularly stubborn toothpaste stain, before musing, “Guess you can’t talk, huh? Must be really annoying to only be able to communicate with gestures, hey, Shadow?”

Shadow raised his hands as if to say ‘tell me about it!’ He then glanced around the bathroom and tapped his wrist urgently.

“Huh?” Harry’s forehead wrinkled, but before he could ask anything further, muffled footsteps were clumping down the hall towards him. Harry froze, Oh no!

The bathroom door banged open to reveal a drowsy and pyjama-clad Uncle Vernon. “Out, Boy!” he snarled, “and take these cleaning things with you, they’re cluttering up the floor.

“Y-yes, Uncle Vernon. At once, Uncle Vernon,” Harry stammered, snatching up his cleaning things while Shadow looked on, eyes worried and lower lip held tightly between his teeth as Harry scrambled to obey. After about twenty seconds of frantic activity Uncle Vernon reached the end of his early-morning patience, and aimed a kick at Harry just as he was about to exit the bathroom.

The kick jarred Harry’s shin and caught him off balance. Almost in slow motion, he watched the bottle of bleach slip from his arms and splatter its contents all across the bathroom floor.

The boy went completely still. Oh no, oh no, how could I be so clumsy? He barely heard Uncle Vernon’s snarl under the litany of panic running through his head, but he certainly felt the huge, meaty hand grab the front of his shirt and begin to shake violently. The rest of the bottles and jars clattered to the floor, noise hidden in between Uncle Vernon’s shouts.

“You clumsy, worthless little brat! How dare you!”

“I-I-I’m-m s-s-orry-y, Unc-l-le,” the boy gasped as his head snapped back and forth, please let him stop, please let him stop, please let him stop.

The hands stopped shaking him, instead closing painfully around his upper arms and lifting him up to his Uncle’s height. The boy caught a brief glimpse of Shadow silently screaming at Uncle Vernon, banging his hands on the opposite side of the glass, before his whole world tunnelled in to that large, purpling face.

“I’ll show you sorry, Boy,” it hissed, the man swinging his fist so that it struck off the side of the boy’s face. He threw the boy to the floor and kicked him hard.

The boy bit his tongue to keep from sobbing as the kicks lifted him across the floor over and over again, angry shouts a symphony to the dull thud of pointy shoe applied to flesh.

A door slammed and all of a sudden the pain stopped coming. Harry looked up from his position on the ground, and stared at the closed bathroom door. Wincing, he slowly got to his feet, ignoring the painfully throbbing areas where the shoes had connected. Probably the only reason he wears shoes before he gets dressed in the morning, Harry grumbled as he limped back to his room, pulling the door to and sitting on the bed, twisting the only cleaning rag he’d been able to hold onto between his hands. He did not look at the window.

As far as Harry could see, the only good thing about the Dursleys’ physical punishments of him were that they were short and sharp, almost as if he wasn’t worth the effort of disciplining. Well, that was just fine with Harry, especially seeing as most of those punishments were over nothing anyway.

Harry sat still for fifteen minutes, listening to the sounds of the shower turning on and off, the flush of the loo and finally, the click and swish as the door as it opened. Heavy footsteps thumped down the stairs, the last step squeaking in protest, a muffled pause, and then voices sounded from the kitchen. Only then did Harry move, slipping out of his bedroom and down the corridor again.

Upon entering the bathroom, he stared around in bewilderment. There was no sign of the carnage that had been there when he’d left; the floor was clean and no bottles were in sight, only the lingering smell of bleach and his aching body proved that it had happened at all.

Not looking into the mirror, Harry checked all the cupboards for hiding places. There was nothing there, leaving only one other place for Harry to check. At least, he hoped that Uncle Vernon hadn’t taken the things with him. Harry suppressed a smile at the idea of his Uncle walking into Grunnings, arms full of cleaning supplies, and limped over the window. Harry opened it and peered down into the back garden.

Sure enough, all his things were nestled on and around the flowering buddleia below. Harry sighed, what a ridiculous thing for his Uncle to do. It was like he was trying to sabotage the evening he had planned for his clients. Though, Harry thought darkly as he hurried down to fetch them, I wouldn’t put it past him to think up a way to sabotage the evening, and then pin all the blame on me!

Back in the bathroom once more, Harry methodically cleaned every surface, making sure everything sparkled before moving onto the next spot, and all the while consciously avoiding the mirror. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Shadow again; it was more he was ashamed that someone had witnessed his Uncle besting him so easily.

He heard Aunt Petunia coming upstairs and waking Dudley for lunch, then both of them making their way downstairs. No one bothered him as he systematically worked his way through the rest of the room, shadows shortening and lengthening as he worked. And still he did not look in the mirror.

Honestly, Harry thought as he pulled kak from the plughole, if this is my reaction to my Invisible friend  finding out what it’s like with the Dursleys, I shudder to think what I’d do if anyone else found out.

Eventually, he could avoid it no longer, dolefully dragged himself over to the mirror; prepared to get this over as quickly as he could, and then get the hell out of the bathroom. He raised a clean cloth, trying to keep his eyes unfocussed, and froze.

Shadow was watching him dejectedly out of the shiny surface, a large purple bruise covering his right cheek. Harry gasped and dropped the rag, reaching out to touch it as best he could while lifting his other hand to brush over his own swollen cheek.

“You really are me, aren’t you?” Harry breathed, watching as Shadow nodded. “I’m sorry I was ignoring you earlier, it’s just that... I was…”

Shadow clasped his hands, bringing them up to his chest, and mimed turning away.

“Yeah, I was ashamed. I’m sorry, I’m such a prat.” Harry laughed and swatted the mirror when he received an enthusiastic ‘thumbs up’ for his last comment. “Shut up, you! Now hold still, so I can clean the mirror without you distracting me!”

Shadow patiently waited while Harry finished polishing the surface, but he started rolling his eyes dramatically when Harry buffed it over with a shammy-leather. The second Harry had finished, Aunt Petunia’s voice shrieked down the hall, “Boy, you’d better be finished in there! Your dinner’s in your bedroom, but I can easily take it away if it isn’t spotless in there!”

“I’ve finished, Aunt Petunia,” Harry yelled back before turning back to Shadow. “Guess she really was joking about shutting me in the shed, I’ll see you later, okay, Shadow?”

Shadow made an ‘okay’ gesture before strolling out the side of the mirror, leaving Harry staring, once more, at his own messy-haired reflection. How can Shadow and I be the same person? Harry wondered as he hurried back into his room; listening as his Aunt slid the locks home once more. He’s so suave and well-groomed; I’m just a scrawny little runt!

Harry sighed, and flopped onto his bed, snatching up the plate of bread and cheese as he went. Hmm, quite a lot too, Aunt Petunia must be bribing me to keep quiet about the filthy state she left the bathroom in, the weird woman! Harry slowly munched through all of his meal. Experience had taught him that leaving the food he was given for the next day often resulted in it going mouldy. Once he had finished, he lay back on his bed, and listened to the house coming alive around him as the Dursleys prepared for the evening – Uncle Vernon coming home, Petunia twittering, Dudley whining, the timer over the oven sounding loudly. Harry let himself drift; gazing out the window to the gradually darkening sky.

Around eight he heard the sound of the Dursleys growing exciting – apparently their guests had just turned down Privet Drive. Harry pulled the covers up over him, preparing to roll over and go to sleep when Shadow appeared at the window.

Harry blinked up at him; this was highly unusual. For one thing, Harry could barely see his outline due to the amount of light outside, Harry flung back the covers and padded over to the window to get a better look at his counterpart’s expression.

It was utterly panicked; Shadow’s eyes were wide, his face contorted in terror, and his lips were trembling. Desperately he gestured again and again for Harry to look out of the window.

“Shadow? What’s the matter?” Harry slipped over to the window and peered around his counterpart’s body.

Two people were leisurely strolling down Privet Drive towards Number Four. Harry squinted to make out their features through the haze, his efforts hindered by Shadow’s panicked motions. They were a man and a woman, he was sure of that fact, but not much else.

He pressed his face closer to the window only to leap back as though scalded as the couple passed under a streetlamp. A stately woman with long, platinum blonde hair, her nose wrinkled as though she could smell dung, was being escorted down the street by none other than Lucius Malfoy!

Lucius Malfoy was coming to Number Four, Privet Drive. Oh God, Lucius Malfoy was going to be invited into Number Four, meaning that there was no way the Blood Wards could hold! There was no way in one million years that Malfoy would come to a Muggle neighbourhood of his own volition, therefore there was only one reason he could be there in the first place; Harry. And here he was, locked up by his own relatives, ready for the taking!

Harry allowed his panic to overtake him for a whole five seconds before getting himself under control. It didn’t matter how it had happened; all that mattered was that it was happening now. And that Harry had to get out of there. Fast.

Malfoy – and the woman Harry assumed was his wife – were closer now, and, in his fear, Harry could see their faces become crystal sharp through the window. Right. Time to run. Harry snatched up his wand. Time was of the essence, and who cared if they expelled him from Hogwarts? Living like a Muggle was better than being dead.

“Reducio! Reducio! Reducio!” All around the bedroom Harry’s belongings shrank, becoming miniscule enough to be shoved in his trunk without any difficulty. Panting with panic, eyes swimming, Harry grabbed everything that was his – and, accidently, some of Dudley’s old things – off shelves, out of the wardrobe, and out from underneath the wooden floorboard.

Nearly there, nearly there, nearly there, was the litany running through Harry’s head. He wrenched the door to Hedwig’s cage open, let her out, and then shrunk that too, slamming the lid of the trunk on top of his things, before making it small enough to fit in his pocket. Now the only things left in the room, apart from the furniture, were Hedwig, the Invisibility Cloak, Harry’s wand, and Harry himself. Harry cursed himself for locking his broom into the trunk. He hadn’t noticed at the time, and it was too late to change it now.

“Don’t go out yet, girl,” Harry whispered to Hedwig. “We don’t want them knowing which room’s ours. Go straight to the Burrow after you’ve left. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Hedwig nodded silently, yellow eyes glittering in terrible anticipation. Holding his breath, Harry crept towards the Shadow-less window, and peeped out. The Malfoys were closer than he thought. Harry’s hands began to shake. Will I make it out of here in time?

Nearly there, nearly there, nearly there. The words thundered along with his pulse once again, except that, this time, they were no longer to mark how many things Harry had yet to pack, but how close the Malfoys were, and how long it would be until he could escape.

Harry bit down hard on his lip, and his hands twisted frantically in the front of his T-shirt. Why can’t I calm down? I’ve faced worse things than this. I’m not defenceless. But Harry couldn’t calm himself. Maybe it was the waiting; the terrible waiting to decide his fate. What if the Malfoys cast some kind of Impervious Charm on the house, and then I can’t get out? Oh for pity’s sake, stay still!

Harry forced himself into stillness. The Malfoys were three steps away, two steps, one step… A knock, a pause, and then the door opening, and Uncle Vernon’s loud voice carrying up the stairs: “Come in, come in, do! May I take your coats?” The front door closed. p>

Harry didn’t wait any longer. Thanking anyone who might be listening that Uncle Vernon hadn’t replaced the prison bars that had been in place outside this very window when Harry was twelve, he flung open the window,  mouthed ‘Go!’ to Hedwig, and ducked as she shot out into the night sky. Wasting no time, Harry tucked his wand in close to his body, wrapped the Invisibility Cloak tightly around himself, and leapt out after his owl, his ears ringing with Lucius Malfoy’s latest words: “May I use your bathroom? Just upstairs, is it?”

Harry hit the ground like a stone before rolling over and over, trying to absorb the impact, mouth stretched in a silent scream as he felt his left ankle snap.

Have to get up! Have to get up, Harry! Hurry, hurry, hurry! The words helped drown out the pain, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins helped him surge to his feet, albeit lopsidedly. Can’t use the Knight Bus, too risky, they may follow! Come on, Harry, hurry!

Limping towards Magnolia Crescent, his eyes watering and his vision blurring during every step taken on his bad ankle, Harry thought out the rest of his hastily concocted escape plan. I have to get to the end of Magnolia Crescent, then down Hammond’s Street, and then straight through the large park at the end… Harry’s breath caught urgently as his foot twisted on a loose paving stone before his panicked review continued. Oh! Oh, that hurts! Then after the park I have to go as far as I can out through those side streets. They’ll be expecting me to head for the middle of London, and the Leaky Caldron, instead of the outskirts. Then I’ll get my broom out and fly back into London again. Hopefully by then they’ll think I’ve decided not to go to the Leaky Cal… Ow! Ow! Ow! Caldron.

Halfway down Magnolia Crescent, Harry heard a loud shout carry through the night air, and causing him to double his pace to a kind of hop-run. Sweat ran down his face, and the adrenaline that had begun to wear off, and make him really feel the pain in his leg, came rushing back full force. They would be looking for him now, and, Invisibility Cloak or no, he had to be far away before they found any kind of lead on him apart from the open window.

Fisting the waist of his jeans on the left hand side, he used the extra leverage to help swing his injured leg forward without it taking too much of the impact. He was almost at the end of the long road of Magnolia Crescent now. His face set itself into determined lines. I will make it, I will! I swear on the power of my Mother’s love that I will live long enough to find my Father!

HPSSHPSSHPSS

The sensation faded as quickly as it had overtaken him, and Severus was left standing, alone in his laboratory, with silence resounding in his ears. Panting slightly, he straightened himself and looked around. Nothing seemed to be out of place. The pristine surfaces were clear of simmering caldrons that might have produced strange fumes to affect him so. The only full caldron in the whole of the cool, dungeon laboratory was the one directly in front of him that he had been about to decant into the now splintered beaker. But that one had cooled long ago, and should not have caused him to have such a reaction.

Leaning forward carefully, he placed his nose directly over the caldron, and sniffed. Nothing happened. Severus shook his head in disgust. Magic. Can’t live with it, can’t live without it.

He quickly cast Reparoon the beaker, and floated it over to the sink to be sterilised. He was about to take another beaker off the nearest shelf when a magically amplified voice reverberated throughout his house.

"SEVERUS SNAPE! I NEED YOU TO FLOO THROUGH TO MY OFFICE WITH ALL DUE SPEED!”

Severus jumped violently, and then scowled at the beaker that he had his hand wrapped around. Good thing he hadn’t lifted off the shelf yet, or that would have been the second he’d destroyed that day. Sighing, he snatched a white rag up off the sideboard, wiping his hands and giving his caldron a last mournful look before he exited the room.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Severus wondered what breed of calamity could have Albus Dumbledore in such a state. The answer came to Severus almost immediately; Potter. Swearing viciously, Severus redoubled his efforts to get to the living room. I knew I should have listened to my instincts last night, I just knew it!

Storming into the living room, Severus chucked the rag in his hands onto the couch, grabbed a handful of glittering powder off the mantelpiece and followed it into the fireplace, disappearing in a flash of green flame.

A few seconds later the spinning stopped, and Severus swept from the Floo into the Headmaster’s office. “Albus? What is it? Is it Potter?”

Dumbledore’s sharp nod confirmed his worst fears which were reinforced a moment later when he realised the Headmaster had his travelling cloak at hand.

"There is an emergency at the Ministry, and something is seriously wrong with the wards around Privet Drive. I believe the two to be connected. I am afraid my presence is urgently required at the Ministry, and as you are the only Order member available at such short notice, I need you to go to Privet Drive and get Harry away. Hide him in your house, and I will come to you the second I am free to explain things. Do you understand?” The Headmaster hadn’t stood still once all through this speech; collecting cloak, hat, wand and other assorted oddments. Severus stood in awe of the energy for a second before realising what Dumbledore had said. Potter? At his house?

“Severus, you must do this! It is of the utmost importance for Harry’s well-being and the rest of the Wizarding World! Severus, I need you to protect him!”

What was going on? “I… Of course.”

“Thank you, my dear boy.” And in a flash of fire, the Headmaster was gone.

Potter, Privet Drive, right! Severus snatched up more Floo powder and Floo-ed through to the Three Broomsticks. Not wanting to waste time on the Muggles, Severus cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself before Apparating to Surrey.

Severus regained his balance and crept forward to peer in through the window of Number Four. The scene that greeted him was the last one he would ever have expected to see.

Narcissa Malfoy stood in the middle of the kitchen, dressed in Muggle clothes, and was pointing a wand towards three very frightened Muggles. Severus gasped and placed a hand against the side of the house to steady himself. Narcissa is here, which means Lucius is also close by. Severus felt a twinge of pity for the Muggles cowering in their own home before an even bigger realisation hit him. He was touching the house that was warded to repel anyone who had not been whole-heartedly invited in by the people who lived there.

Severus stared in horror. This could only mean one thing; Potter had left Privet Drive with no intention of returning. And who could blame him with the likes of the Malfoys rampaging through his supposed safe-house? Severus whirled away. Where to go? Where to go?

A fluttering caught his eye, and Severus looked up to see part of a curtain flapping in the breeze, out of a window that was opened unnaturally wide.

He jumped! Potter jumped! Merlin only knows how he didn’t break his fool neck! Severus hurried over to the area below the window, and sure enough, the grass was flattened and scuffed as though someone had rolled over and over. Severus followed the path it made, staring at footprints that had dented the grass. There were two sets; one created by something small with an irregular gait, the second made by something larger with a longer stride.

Severus tore off in the direction they both seemed to lead in; towards the much longer street connected at right-angles to Privet Drive. Looking both ways, he caught sight of someone to his left, who was wearing a Muggle business suit, about halfway down the street.

Severus levelled his wand at the figure. Hex first, ask questions later! he thought as he hissed “Stupefy!”

There was a muffled yell, and a thump. Severus sprinted, still invisible, down the street, rolled the figure over and looked into the unconscious face of Lucius Malfoy.

Petrificus Totalus! Incarcerous!” Severus smirked at his handiwork before rolling Malfoy under a bush and casting a Concealment Charm. Nobody would be finding him until Severus came back for him.

Severus stepped back onto the pavement and strode off in the direction Malfoy had been heading in. Now, if only I could find Potter…

Harry was being followed. He was sure of it. He had made it all the way across the park and into the backstreets – though the rough ground of grass and gravel had really taken its toll on his ankle – and now he was heading even further out into more rural-looking suburbs, certain that someone was only a few streets behind him, and gaining on him fast.

Harry grimaced as he realised that he had almost spent the entirety of his journey walking in a straight line; his blasted ankle hadn’t permitted for very much independent thought outside of getting away. And now someone was taking full advantage of that weakness!

Please don’t let it be Malfoy, please, please! Though who else could it be? Only a wizard could track someone so well when their quarry was under an Invisibility Cloak, and the only wizard in the vicinity was the very one Harry did not wish to meet. Harry tried to push himself faster, but his ankle had almost given up the ghost. If he travelled very much further, the swollen joint would cease supporting his weight entirely. As it was, Harry could only manage a slow hobble, practically dragging his left foot behind him.

Harry stopped. The only way to stop Malfoy following him any further was to take the older man by surprise, and eliminate the threat by immobilising him long enough for Harry to get away. And the only way to take him by surprise was to hide. He stopped and looked around, panting. It would have to be close by; he wasn’t sure if he could reach it otherwise, even if he were crawling.

Luckily for Harry, five feet in front of him was a large hydrangea bush that spilled partway onto the path. Harry struggled forward, placed himself behind the bush, and sunk down onto the grassy bank the bush was planted on, keening softly under his breath as the movement jogged his ankle. Oh, how he hurt!

Settled in position, Harry pulled the Cloak tight around him, stretched his good leg out as far as it would go over the pavement, and poked the very tip of his wand out through a fold in the Cloak. Hopefully Malfoy would trip over his invisible leg and be disorientated enough for Harry to hex him without any further problems occurring.

Harry chewed his bottom lip. Expelliarmus, then Petrificus Totalus, and then I’ll take his wand and get my broom out of my trunk and be off. Oh God, I hope it isn’t both of them following me! I would never be able to take out both of them in this condition!

Harry started taking slow, silent breaths; desperately trying to stop his vision from swaying in and out of focus. The pain was so much worse now he had stopped moving. In fact, Harry wasn’t even sure he could stay conscious long enough to take care of Malfoy.

Finally, to Harry’s immense relief, he heard footsteps snapping sharply across the pavement towards his hiding place. Harry looked up, his dimming vision almost black at this point, and saw a dark figure striding down the street, long hair swinging, and looking rather Malfoy-shaped. Harry drew in another soft breath and clenched his wand. Almost time.

The figure strode up to, and then past the hydrangea bush; or, at least, he tried to. His foot caught on Harry’s concealed leg and the simple impediment sent him tumbling, causing him to land hard on top of Harry’s right leg, jarring Harry’s injured ankle. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, eyes swimming, and opened his mouth to say a spell, any spell, that would stop Malfoy from getting him.

“Potter?”

Harry’s eyes went wide. He knew that voice well, and it was not Malfoy’s. It had been taunting him in Potions Class for three solid years. His suspicions were further confirmed when two accusing, black eyes turned on Harry, glaring slightly off to the left of Harry’s head.

“Professor Snape!” Harry wailed, more relieved than he could have ever imagined to see his greasy Potions professor. He hauled the cloak off his head and shoulders, and looked down at the man still sprawled across his right leg. His Professor’s reaction to his appearance was not what he expected.

“Fuck! Potter, what have you done to yourself?” Snape’s face leaned closer, and Harry could only just make out the pale features through his blurry vision.

“I don’t feel well.” Harry swayed and felt strong hands clasp his shoulders. “Pr’fessor, Malfoy, you’ve gotta-“

“Silence, you idiotic child, I took care of Malfoy; you needn’t worry about him. Now, Potter, tell me where it hurts.”

“Ankle,” Harry moaned. A wave of dizziness overtook him, and he pitched forward into the Professor’s arms, at last allowing his consciousness to slip away as his face pressed into the dark, woollen robes.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus sighed in annoyance as the child slumped into his arms. Oh, the joys! An unconscious Harry Potter! Praying the leg he had tripped over wasn’t the injured one he carefully pushed up each trouser leg and examined the ankles. He winced as he saw the child’s left ankle had swollen to over twice the size of the right. How in Circe’s name did the child manage to walk this far?

Severus hefted the boy higher in his arms, stood, and prepared to Disapparate, staring down into Potter’s face. When the boy had first pulled the Invisibility Cloak off himself, Severus had almost had a heart-attack. The child had looked – and still looked – as though he were in the grips of some dire illness. His face, chalk white and dripping with sweat, his dull, pain-filled eyes and pitiful thinness had given Severus the brief impression that he was looking at someone who was critically ill.

Severus tutted to himself and Disapparated. Mysteries could wait until he had healed Potter; first, he needed to get him back to his Manor.

A fair way outside London and, surprisingly, in the same direction that Potter had been heading anyway, Severus reappeared. Striding forward confidently, he watched as the air in front of him shimmered and a fairly large house materialized as he walked through the wards.

Tharabraye Manor was not an ancestral home: merely something Severus had bought out of his meagre inheritance from his parents, and the savings he had amassed from his teaching job at Hogwarts.

As soon as it had been convenient, he had sold Spinner’s End, and turned his back on his birth town with a sigh of relief. However, he had refused to buy something small and cheap that would remind him of his poor beginnings. Severus Snape was nothing if not proud. And so, he had scrimped and saved, spending all his holidays in Hogwarts until, finally, he had come across an old manor which was well within his price-range. He had bought it, refurbished it, and lived there very happily on his own for nearly five years.

Until now.

Now he had to share his precious home with Potter, and he was not happy about it. Scowling, he let himself in and climbed the broad stairway of rosewood that ran along the wall to the left-hand side of the front door. Upon reaching the top of the stairs he placed Potter in the closest guest bedroom, which was made out in light and dark greens, accented by the mahogany surfaces.

After laying the boy on the bed he pulled out his wand and cast a diagnostic charm on Potter so that he might know the full state of his injuries. He didn’t trust the words of a barely-conscious fourteen year old to reveal all that ailed the boy.

While waiting for the diagnostic charm to finish, he Accio-ed all the medical potions he had on hand around the house. He hoped they would be enough. The last thing he wanted was to have to call Poppy Pomfrey and have her bustling around his house, giving out orders and re-arranging things ‘for the good of the patient.’ Severus shuddered.

Severus frowned as the diagnostic results appeared on the slip of parchment in his hand. Two broken ribs as well as a broken ankle? How had the boy even managed to stand up? Though it would explain why he had been hiding behind the hydrangea. Severus stared down at the skinny imp, surprised and a little disturbed that the boy’s plan of tripping and hexing Lucius Malfoy was rather cunning – more a Slytherin’s plan than a Gryffindor’s. And there was me expecting to find him in the middle of the street, wand out and ready to duel me! Severus snorted and shook his head, arranging the potions necessary to heal Potter in order of strength. Wonders shall never cease!

A quick wand flick vanished the boy’s ridiculous t-shirt and jeans. Severus pursed his lips at the inappropriate clothing the ‘youth of today’ found fashionable. If I had traipsed around in these overly baggy rags, my father would have… well, never mind. The frown on his face increased as he examined Potter’s ribs. What is the boy playing at? Decided to go anorexic these holidays just because the pathetic mutt can’t take him in? Wait a minute, what’s this? I swear the ground he fell on couldn’t have been that rocky… Severus began smoothing salve over the peculiar injuries on the boy’s torso – strangely circular discolorations liberally smattered across Potter’s back. There was even a large bruise on his face, which must have hit the ground pretty hard to cause that kind of bruising.

Very peculiar. Potter always managed to land well if he ever fell off his broom during Quidditch; none of that thrashing around that some of them indulge themselves in. Severus finished smoothing salve over Potter’s face and started slowly feeding the boy potions, which would strengthen him and prevent any internal injuries from worsening, by sitting the boy up slightly and trickling the liquid down the inside of Potter’s cheek. Getting him to swallow was another thing entirely; Potter seemed to have an aversion to letting anything into his stomach. Severus scowled and mentally added the need to brew and nutrient potion to his mental list, as well as a potion to help fortify Potter’s bones once Severus had charmed them whole once again. 

Severus frowned as he once more looked over the list of Potter’s injuries. He shouldn’t have been injured this badly after falling from a first story window, even if the broken ankle was inevitable. He sighed and shrugged. No use wool-gathering; the evidence was in front of his face. Potter must have simply been too unnerved by the Malfoys’ arrival to judge his jump properly.

To make sure he had no distractions, Severus dealt with the boy’s ankle after he had patched up the rest of Potter; setting it correctly before casting the charm Pomfrey taught him to knit the bone back together. The boy moaned a little in his sleep but Severus ignored him. Pain was to be expected, and all that mattered now was that the boy was healed. Potter would have to keep his feet up as much as possible over the next three days to let the bone settle. Severus was no professional healer despite knowing the groundwork, so Potter would have to be careful in the coming days to prevent being left with a permanent limp.

Severus groaned as he imagined the work he would have to put in to keeping Potter in bed. It was the stuff of nightmares. Still, it was better than the alternative; to let the boy run amuck in his house.

His blood suddenly chilled as he realised that the Headmaster had never said how long he was expected to keep Potter. He might very well have to put up with the brat disturbing his peace all summer!

Sneering at that disturbing thought, Severus transfigured some pyjamas out of Potter’s awful clothes and, with another flick, dressed the boy in them.

When he had the covers tucked up to Potter’s chin – no sense in letting Potter catch a chill, was there? The boy had been injured after all – he made sure the window was charmed to only open an inch, set an alarm on the bed to alert him when Potter woke, and locked the door behind him on his way out.

One could never be too careful with Potters…

Harry groaned softly. He felt like he’d been run over by a steamroller, or some other form of construction vehicle; leaving his body aching and exhausted. In fact, so great was the effort needed just to crack open his eyelids that Harry experienced a moment of panic.

Then, his eyes opened and light flooded his vision; the brightness temporarily blinding him. Harry groaned again and hauled himself up onto his elbows, trying to work out where he was. No bed at the Dursleys’ could ever be so comfortable.

Suddenly, it all came flooding back; Shadow, Malfoy, his ankle. Harry jerked himself upright with a gasp. Malfoy must have got me after all! And now I’m his prisoner! Harry blinked and frowned as, for the first time, he truly took in his surroundings.

He was in a fairly spacious room, bedecked in green and mahogany, and complete with a truly comfortable four-poster bed, upon which Harry was currently lying. He sighed and buried his head in his hands. If I’m Malfoy’s prisoner, he would hardly care about giving me nice accommodations. I must be missing something.

Another frown and a bitten lip later, Harry had the answer; strong arms and the camphor smell given off by a magical fire which clung to a set of dark robes. Somehow, someway, Harry had got himself rescued by Snape. Again.

Harry buried his head even deeper into his arms and pretended not to exist. It’s really hard to hate that man when he goes and does things like this.

Harry snorted. Actually, knowing the old bat, he’s probably gone and locked me in!

From under the crook of his arm Harry spied his glasses on the side table. Reaching out, he grabbed them and slipped them on, revelling in his ability at being able to see the room properly. He slid out of bed and gasped sharply as his weight landed on his left ankle. Wriggling back up onto the bed Harry pulled the end of his pyjama bottoms up and looked at the injured joint.

The bone appeared to have been straightened back into place, and the swelling had gone down dramatically. Harry sighed in relief. He was healed.

He had experience with broken limbs that were healed magically; they generally were tender and weak for several days after being healed and he was always told not to put too much strain on them.

Stretching his foot out in front of him, Harry wiggled it from side to side. Despite the fact that it wasn’t healed up to the standards he was used to, the repair wasn’t half bad. Snape must know more than we credited him for, Harry thought. After all, it must have been Snape who did it. I can hardly see him asking anyone for help, and even if he did, it would have been Madam Pomfrey he asked, wouldn’t it? And I can tell this definitely isn’t her work. I should know after all!

Smiling wryly, Harry slid off the bed again and very gingerly put his left foot back on the floor. No pain. Harry nodded; he would have to be very careful from now on, unless he wanted to damage it again. Hobbling slowly to the nearest door, Harry reached out and turned the handle. The door didn’t budge.

Harry sneered at it rebelliously. I knew it! I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist letting me know I was completely in his power. As if I would go wandering ‘round his house in my condition! The sneer grew less pronounced. Nice house he has here, though, if this room’s anything to go by!

Turning around, Harry half-hopped towards the en-suite bathroom he had spotted to relieve himself. However, before he even moved three steps, the door he had just turned away from banged open behind him.

“Potter!”

Harry rolled his eyes heavenwards. Oh dear God!

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing out of bed? Couldn’t amuse yourself for more than two seconds after waking, so you decided to go exploring? Well let me tell you something, boy; not in this house! Get back in bed this instant!”

Harry had whirled around near the beginning of this speech, and was currently staring at the six foot two apparition, which was bedecked in voluminous, black robes; a nasty sneer marring the harsh face. Harry sighed softly. Not even five minutes awake, and already someone’s back to calling me ‘boy!’ Did I do something really evil in a previous life? All right, Harry, polite, be polite, and maybe he’ll go easy on you…

“Please, sir, I just needed to-“

“Silence! Not another word, boy, until you’re back in that bed! And probably not even then!”

Yeah right, Harry, as if! “But, sir, if you would let me—ack!”

Professor Snape grabbed him firmly by the arms and hoisted Harry over his shoulder. All Harry could do in response to this shock was gulp and stare in alarm over the back of his captor’s shoulder. Surprisingly, the only thought Harry could bring to mind at this moment was; I didn’t know Snape was that strong!

The next second he was plunked unceremoniously back on his bed and the covers were shoved up to his chin. Harry, wisely, stayed silent. He was pretty sure that Snape wouldn’t appreciate the only comment in his mind at the moment, which was, at present, ‘eep!' Gathering himself, Harry decided to have one last try.

“Professor Snape, sir-“

This time Snape didn’t even bother to speak; the fearsome glare he sent Harry’s way said it all. Harry snapped his jaw shut and bit his lip, not even realising that his hands were frantically twisting in the duvet cover. However, a cool hand over the top of his own brought this small fact to Harry’s attention.

Snape’s hand jerked back immediately, almost as though he hadn’t meant to touch Harry at all. However, the contact had the desired effect; Harry’s hands stopped moving. Harry held his breath as Snape began to speak.

“Due to several of the potions I gave you last night you can not have any food until at least lunch time, during which time I will bring it to you and you will eat it! I am not interested in whatever reason you have been starving yourself for; you will eat everything I bring you and that is final!”

Harry had a hard time preventing his mouth from falling open. Snape thinks I’m anorexic? What the hell gave him that impression? Harry’s sharp ribs grated against his wrist as he shifted in place. Oh, that’s why. Of course, precious Potter’s relatives would never starve their only nephew! Harry didn’t even realise he was sneering slightly as he thought this.

Snape did, though.

“Additionally, you shall remain in bed until that time! I will not have you wandering around and injuring yourself further! To ensure this, I have spelled the bed to alert me whenever you leave it. And even when you’re better, don’t presume I’m going to allow you to wander about my house, sticking your fingers in where they don’t belong!”

Harry stared, all attempts at holding his mouth closed long since forgotten. That evil Git! But Snape wasn’t finished.

“Any attempts to subvert the rules at this point will result in me feeding you the strongest sleeping potion in my stores, so that I will not have to deal with you and your bratty attitude. Is that understood?”

 Harry nodded dumbly, ears ringing with the implications, and desperately trying not to say something which would escalate the situation. Evil, evil Git! I hope he chokes on his own potions fumes!

“Now, I don’t want you feigning illness any longer than is necessary. It is best if you drink plenty of liquids at this point to aid your recovery, otherwise you’ll be laid up in bed for much longer.” Snape looked as though this would be a very favourable option, but all Harry had eyes for at that moment was the tall glass of water that had appeared in Snape’s hand.

Now that Snape had mentioned it, Harry’s throat felt as though it were about to dry up. I’m so thirsty! He may be an evil git… but he’s giving me water! Maybe I didn’t really mean that bit about the potion fumes. Then the glass was in his hands and Harry gulped down the water without pause for breath. As soon as he had finished, Snape began speaking again.

“I have confiscated your wand and Cloak to prevent any mischief you might come up with, with them in your possession, but I have no reason not to give you this.” Snape took hold of the glass again and pulled a little wooden box from out of his pocket, setting it on the bedside table as he vanished the water glass. “Remember, stay in bed!” With a dramatic swish of his robe, Snape left the room.

Harry sighed. I really wish he’d let me ask if I could use the loo. Still, I suppose I’ve had plenty of practice at the Dursleys’, Harry thought bitterly. He reached out and picked up the unfamiliar wooden box, and then, with a jolt, he knew exactly what it was.

Harry stared at his shrunken trunk and scowled. Snape probably thinks this is really funny. Ha, ha, hilarious, you greasy git! Thanks a bunch for returning all of my belongings in a form that is no use to anyone but a really tiny pixie!

 Harry placed the trunk in his palm and stared at it for a moment, before whispering, “Aconite,” at it. The tiny catch clicked and the lid popped open, leaving Harry staring at things, which were now more appropriate for a doll’s house. Snape really does hate me. He’s probably still getting back at me for the werewolf incident.

At this thought, Harry’s heart squeezed. Sirius. What would Sirius think of all this? Well, he certainly wouldn’t stand for Snape acting like a total jerk, but… What if he finds out I’m not James Potter’s son? What then? Would he still care then? Harry scrubbed a little of the wetness off his face, determined not to think about how it got there. God, Sirius, I hope you’re safe! Please stay safe for me; I still need you. Even if you can’t be here with me.

Biting his lip, Harry rolled over and closed his eyes tight shut, praying for sleep to take him. His now-closed trunk was cradled to his chest.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus stared at the door, his arms folded, waiting for Potter to get out of bed and turn the handle.

However, five minutes later, Potter had yet to appear, and Severus was almost certain that a while back he had heard a stifled sob. What’s going on? Slowly, carefully, Severus turned the handle of the door, inched it open, peered inside and stared. By the looks of things, Potter was sound asleep. How is that even possible? Will wonders never cease?

Severus crept back into the room and around to the side of the room that Potter was facing, approached the bed, and stared down at the sleeping boy, for Potter was, indeed, asleep. Severus rolled his eyes and reached out to pull off Potter’s glasses, which were currently digging into the side of the boy’s head. Stretching over the boy he put them back on the bedside table, but when he glanced down, this unique vantage point revealed something else that Potter had fallen asleep with.

The shrunken trunk was clutched to the boy’s chest, held tight with both of his hands. Severus frowned. Honestly, what kind of behaviour is that? He slipped his own fingers around the trunk, preparing to prize it out of the pincer-like grip, when Potter whimpered loudly and clutched it closer.

Something glistened on his cheek when he moved. Severus leaned closer once more and gasped silently.

So, Potter had been crying! Over what though? Severus’ frown deepened. Was it over his trunk? I was only trying to show the boy I wasn’t about to steal his belongings! And who knows what mischief he might get up to with what’s inside it? Another look at Potter’s frowning, tearstained face had Severus cursing under his breath. I can’t believe I’m going to do this! He’s spoiled enough as it is!

Yanking the chest from Potter’s limpet grip, Severus ignored the resulting whimper, set the trunk of the floor and hissed, “Engorgio!” Severus watched with grim satisfaction as the trunk took on its original size. There! Now there’s nothing you should be whining about, Potter! Another whimper from the bed proved otherwise.

Severus turned to find the sleeping boy slowly clawing at the mattress, as if he were trying to find something. Muttering a curse, Severus walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it.

“Go back to sleep, Potter; there’s nothing for you to worry about until lunch time.” Severus muttered. Potter stilled, for a minute, as though listening, before going back to groping at the mattress. “Oh, for-!” Severus stretched a hand out and ran his fingers through Potter’s unruly mop.

The boy flinched a little, but then leaned into the hand like a cat, a soft sigh releasing formerly tense muscles.

“That’s it, Potter, sleep.” The child’s hair was surprisingly soft, and Severus found he didn’t mind running his fingers through it a couple more times. God forbid he’d ever do it when the child was awake of course! Severus slowly stood up and walked towards the door once he was certain Potter would not wake.

A flash of brown hair in the mirror opposite the end of Potter’s bed made Severus freeze, and then whirl around to face the rest of the room. Both Potter and I have black hair. Who’s in the room with us?

A slow stare around the room revealed no one, and a look back in the mirror only showed Potter’s sleeping form. Severus shook his head. I must have imagined it.

Why though, he thought as once more he shut and locked Potter’s door behind him, did I imagine I saw Potter with brown hair?

Harry woke up for the second time that day in almost the same way he had previously, though this time without the panic.

For five minutes he contented himself with glaring at the green canopy above his head and reciting every swearword he knew with Snape’s name attached to them in some way. How dare he mock me, it’s not fair. I have to do whatever he says for God knows how long, and still he has to rub my face in it!

His silent rant was abruptly cut off when he realised there was something was not quite right with the room. Harry blinked a couple of times, and then shot bolt upright in the bed. My glasses! Where are they? Looking wildly around, but not accomplishing anything due to his lack of spectacles, Harry realised that they couldn’t have just fallen off while he slept, or else he would be sitting on them. His eyes widened when an idea came to him and he almost dismissed it immediately, because it was so absurd, but stopped himself at the last moment.

Reaching his right hand out, he groped on the bedside table, and his eyes widened when, at last, he felt the wire frames underneath his palm. He grabbed them and pushed them onto his nose, staring wildly around the room, as if it could explain the phenomenon of how his glasses came to be neatly folded on his beside table, when he clearly remembered falling asleep with them still on.

All the breath left his body when he noticed his trunk, once more its proper size, sitting innocently to the left of his bed.

Ok, as weird as it seems, I could actually see Snape taking off my glasses to stop them getting broken, but no way would he change my trunk back! Did… did Sirius hear my thoughts before I fell asleep and came to help me? But, how is that even possible?

The longer Harry thought about it, the more he realised that it wasn’t, which meant that Snape had… His thoughts were broken off by a knock at the door.

And now Snape’s knocking? Weird. Has the world gone mad when I was sleeping? What do I do now?

Luckily, Harry was spared from deciding as the door swung open to reveal Snape, complete with robe and scowl, a tray of food floating behind him. He billowed into the room, tray bobbing along in his wake, and all Harry could do was sit and stare, still thrown from the half-kindness that Snape had shown him.

Damn, why couldn’t he have given me another few minutes so that I could get around to hating him again? Now I don’t even know what to say to him!

Harry realised that Snape had set the tray in front of him, and was staring at Harry staring at him.

“Potter, I am not leaving until you have eaten every scrap off your plate, so stop gawping at me and eat!”

Harry took a deep breath.

“ActuallysirIwaswonderingifIcouldusethebathroomfirst.” He looked up at Snape, ridiculously pleased that he’d managed to get the whole sentence out.

A line appeared between Snape’s brows. “I beg your pardon?” he drawled.

“Actually, sir, I was wondering if I could use the bathroom first.” Harry replied at a more sedate pace. “Please.” A little courtesy never hurt anyone. Unless their name was Snape. “You see, that was where I was going this morning-“

“Get on and go, Potter!” Snape snapped, looking as though he had reached the end of his tether. Harry resisted the urge to whoop as he gingerly climbed out of bed and slowly limped to the bathroom. Looks like Snape’s weakness is people who babble inanely. I’ll have to remember to use that!

The en-suite bathroom was very nice; pearl gray tiles on the walls; black, magically heated, stone slabs on the floor, and dark green towels everywhere. It was much cleaner than Aunt Petunia’s bathroom, even after Harry had cleaned everything, and, at first, Harry was slightly afraid to touch anything in case he got it dirty. His needs helped him get over that impulse quickly.

So as not to anger Snape by taking too long, Harry hurriedly set himself to rights and was just drying his hands on a towel when his eyes met his own in the big mirror over the sink.

Suddenly remembering he hadn’t spoken to Shadow since the Malfoy incident, Harry hobbled over and hopped up onto the dark gray counter beside the sink, staring deeply into the reflective surface as though that alone could call Shadow to him.

“Shadow? Shadow? Hey, where are you?” After a couple of minutes at staring at his own dark-mopped reflection, Harry felt a lead weight settle in his stomach. Shadow wasn’t coming.

What’s the matter? Where is he? Oh God, please don’t say he was trapped in the Dursleys’ house! Is Snape’s home warded against whatever kind of magic it is? Is he gone forever? Harry bit his lip and looked down, struggling to not let any tears fall. Did I just imagine him?

“Shadow?” he whispered. “Shadow? I’m- I’m at Snape’s house. Please come and find me. I need you.” His voice had trailed off to almost nothing by the time he finished speaking. Dejectedly he climbed off the counter and left the bathroom.

Snape was waiting for him with an impatient look on his face. But then, Harry thought as he slipped back into bed, I get the feeling that Snape is impatient about everything.

“You took your time, Potter. Trying to find a way out perhaps? I assure you that all of the windows only open an inch and the rest of the Manor is sealed from letting you out, except by my express permission.” Snape said all of this with such a bland expression, as though Harry was nothing to him, that Harry felt himself getting angry.

Smug, irritating git! “I didn’t even realise that there was a window in the bathroom… sir!” Harry sneered.

Snape gave him a sharp look. “None of your cheek, Potter. I will not stand for it in my own home! Now, stop procrastinating and eat!”

“I wasn’t…” Harry trailed off and scowled, tugging the tray towards him with a barely mumbled “Thank you.” Staring at the, frankly rather delicious looking, chicken salad in front of him, Harry felt his appetite leave him. His stomach was still churning with anger and upset, and Snape wasn’t helping; standing over him and watching him like a hawk.

Come on, Harry. He didn’t poison the water, and you didn’t even consider the possibility at the time. Granted, you were too thirsty to think straight, but he still didn’t poison it. Harry picked up the glass of water beside the plate and took a long sip. Sighing with relief, he looked down into the water, and promptly choked.

Shadow’s face was staring up at him, grinning. Despite himself, Harry grinned back, all the while thinking I’m really going to have to have a chat with him about which reflective surfaces are appropriate to use and which aren’t. God, I’m glad to see him!

“Something amuses you, Mr Potter?” an irritated voice cut across his thoughts. Harry gulped. Quick think of something, anything!

“Um, I was wondering, sir… How long am I going to stay here with you? I mean, this must be taking up a lot of your time, caring for me, so…” Harry trailed off. Snape was giving him a very odd look.

“The Headmaster did not specify; he merely informed me that you will be taking up residence in my house until further notice, regardless of how inconvenient it may be.” Snape was scowling again.

“Oh.” Harry was surprised how bitter he felt about this. Of course Dumbledore sent Snape; as if Snape would go looking for me and take care of me on his own. Still, at least Dumbledore still cares, even if he can’t do this himself. He must be really busy; otherwise, I’m sure he wouldn’t have sent Snape… Realising he was rambling, Harry cast around for something else to say to his teacher, who was still doing a very good impression of a bird of prey. “Um, so… Where is here, exactly? I mean, this is your house, but… where are we?”

The sneer sent his way let Harry know that Snape thought his question was impertinent. Harry resisted the urge to sigh and roll his eyes. For God’s sake, Snape, I’m injured; I can’t always be counted on to say the right things!

“Yes, Potter, as you said, this is my house. Also know as Tharabraye Manor. If you don’t know where that is, Potter, try reading a map sometime; a proper one, not a Muggle one, it’s a wonder they can even find their own feet! But I suppose famous Harry Potter thinks it above him to ever find anything out for himself.”

The sarcasm was laid on so thick that Harry felt like the air was made of treacle. Harry bit down on his tongue, hard. I think that’s my cue to start eating, before I say anything else stupid! Honestly, that man is more touchy than an old stick of dynamite! And Muggles aren’t useless! At this point Harry viciously shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth, and the scowl melted off his face as he realised that, though plain, the food was truly as delicious as it looked. He continued his ruminations more calmly. Besides I haven’t seen the Wizarding World come up with anything nearly as awesome as the World Wide Web. Harry got an image of Snape sitting down to check his emails, and snorted into his food.

“Yes, Mister Potter?”

 Uh oh! “Nothing, sir, just choking a bit.” Harry replied breezily, hoping that his tone would annoy Snape. Will you stop hanging over me? There’s a perfectly good chair a couple of feet away! There really is no need to stand right next to my bed and stare at me; it’s creepy!

Harry watched the mirror opposite his bed in amusement as Shadow started shoving his hands right through mirror-Snape’s body, trying to push him away from the bed. I’m glad Shadow shares my opinion! Weird how Shadow can’t touch the Snape in the mirror, but then, I suppose he’s made of magic whereas that Snape is just refracted light.

Harry snorted again and finished his meal in silence, trying to ignore the dark man standing and scowling at his side.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Why is he staring into the mirror like that? Oh, please don’t say that Potter’s vain as well as a brat! I’ll bet he is! He’s staring right at himself! And here I actually felt sorry for him for a time. What a fool, Severus! At least I don’t have to force the food down his throat.

Severus stared at the Potter boy, irritated at the way he was slowly, precisely slicing up pieces of his food and, equally slowly, chewing them. Is he trying to make a point? Is my food not worthy for a Potter to consume? Bah, I’m going to have to work hard on him this summer if this child is going to be worth anything! I swear he was almost smirking at me when he went into the bathroom; as though he was thinking how easily he could escape from me and my house! Well, he didn’t look nearly so smug when he came out again, and then he had the audacity to lie to me when I knew perfectly well what he had been doing!

Severus huffed and stared down at the unruly mop, trying to forget how soft it felt under his fingers, how Potter had leaned into his touch as though he could derive comfort from that alone. Maybe there’s hope for Potter… if he starts behaving like he does when he’s asleep.

Finally Potter placed knife and fork together on his plate which was, to Severus’ surprise, completely clean. Though, somewhat less surprisingly, Potter looked ready to burst; he kept pressing both hands into his stomach as though he could relieve some of the pressure. That’s what you get if you starve yourself all summer, Potter, Severus thought maliciously. It’s your own fault! Severus vanished the tray soundlessly, the beginnings of a contemptuous sneer curling the corners of his mouth.

“Seeing as I have now satisfied all your… needs, Potter,” Severus paused with malevolent pleasure as Potter flushed bright red at Severus’ words, before continuing, “I shall now replace the spell which will alert me if you leave the bed; so I’d better not find you out of it for any lesser reason than that Bellatrix Lestrange has just climbed through your window! Do you understand, Potter?”

The boy frowned. “Err, Bellatrix Lestrange, sir?”

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose; it really was most inconvenient that the boy was Muggle raised. “Never you mind, Potter. Let me reiterate; you will not leave this bed!”

Potter shrank back slightly, green eyes wide at the outburst. “N-no, sir, no leaving, I promise!”

Severus eyed him sceptically. “Hmm, I’ll believe that when I see it.” Severus turned to go before glancing back one last time. “Sweet dreams, Potter.” Potter’s expression at his sarcasm, delivered in that cold, indifferent voice which drove Potter hopping mad during term time, was priceless. Severus was willing to bet Potter was ready spit tacks when Severus had said ‘sweet dreams’.

Severus swept down the stairs, still reliving the pleasure at seeing Potter being driven up the wall by his comment, yet unable to do anything because he was completely at Severus’ mercy. His amusement was short lived, however, once he remembered what he had now planned to do.

Severus’ lips were set in a grim line as he entered the living room and headed for the Floo; determined once and for all to find out what had happened to Albus since he’d last seen him. After all, Lucius couldn’t stay hidden under a bush all summer, and Severus would be damned if Potter was going to be staying with him a moment longer than necessary; despite the fact that Severus had a rather nasty suspicion that the Headmaster would think him the perfect recipient of Potter now that his relatives were unavailable. Severus wondered, offhandedly, what had happened to them.

Halfway across the living room Severus stopped abruptly, staring down in surprise at the rag he’d tossed on the seat of the nearest sofa to the fire. It’s unlike me to be so shoddy at cleaning up after myself. Then again, he thought as he picked up the rag and stuffed it into one of his pockets, I have had other things on my mind…

Severus remembered, with envy, the oblivious Severus Snape of the night before, who had merely thought he had to rescue Potter from another scrape before returning to a blissfully quiet holiday of brewing and reading. Ah, how naïve one can be, Severus thought as he readied the Floo powder. Time for some answers, Albus! The powder flew from his fingers and the dozy, yellow flames exploded with emerald, shooting several feet higher at the same time.

“Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts!” The flames swirled meaningfully and Severus pushed his head into them, closing his eyes against the sensation of his neck extending. The meaningful pop a second later told Severus he had arrived, and he opened his eyes, eager to speak with his mentor about how he had managed at the Ministry, and what was now to be done with Potter.

The room was empty. Severus peered out of the flames in disbelief. Albus office was never empty at this time of day; yet now not even Fawkes occupied his usual perch, and the only movements in the room were from a couple of sleepy portraits which stared down at him in surprise. Severus bit his lip, his hands, all the way back at Tharabraye Manor, involuntarily clenching in his robes as a strong sense of uneasiness kindled in his stomach.

After another few seconds of Severus’ blank staring at the room, one of the portraits; an old woman with her hair done in a floppy perm, and a massive pair of glasses perching precariously on her nose, spoke up.

“He’s not here, Deary, you’ll have to look elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I can see that! Thank you so much for pointing out the obvious to me.” Severus scowled at her, but she just smiled back at him and went back to her knitting.

“Haven’t seen him since you have, in actual fact,” a younger man told Severus while stroking his chestnut goatee and frowning thoughtfully. Matthew Cruthers; Severus remembered his name from a previous visit to this same office. “I think we all hoped you’d come to tell us where he is.”

A general murmur came from all of the portraits; even the ones still pretending to be asleep. It amazed Severus that, no matter how rude he was to any of them, they always treated him like one of their own. But all things considered, it may not be so surprising; these people had seen him at some of the very worst moments of his life. Maybe these moments had kindled some fellow feeling in them for him; but, to Severus, any human kindness was still surprising.

“No,” Severus supplied shortly, his worry increasing tenfold once he yanked his mind back to the conversation. “I haven’t seen him since then either, but if you happen to see him before I do, let him know that I have the Potter boy… and that Lucius Malfoy is under a bush in Little Whinging, and could he please deal with that for me as I now have a brat to attend to.”

A loud cheer ran around the office once he had finished speaking, and all the portraits started talking loudly amongst one another. Severus could have sworn he heard one wizard with long, platinum blonde hair mutter, ‘Serves him right, the little shit!’

Severus rolled his eyes at the gossiping, and was about to pull his head out of the fire when the woman with the perm called out to him once more. The other portraits fell silent to listen to the exchange.

“I say, Deary, you might want to try Minerva’s office, she’s just arrived to deal with all the replies to the acceptance letters!”

At these words a little of the worry dissolved from his stomach. If Minerva’s not with Albus, then the trouble at the Ministry can’t be too serious… “Thank you,” he told the witch from the portrait, who was currently pearling a stitch. “What was your name again?”

“Ethel Weatherly,” she said without looking up. “Be sure to send Minerva my regards; I know how busy she is, poor dear…”

Severus nodded briskly and pulled his head from the fire before she could elaborate.

Desperately shaking his head to clear it of the lingering dizziness of Floo travel, Severus took another handful of Floo powder, this time calling out Minerva’s office as his destination, and stuck his head back in the flames. The resulting dizziness of Floo-travelling twice in so many minutes almost knocked Severus off his knees and he had to keep his eyes closed for several seconds to regain his composure.

By this time, Minerva had noticed him, and was currently peering at him over the top of her rectangular spectacles, patiently waiting for him to get his bearings.

When he finally looked at her, she smiled. “Hello, Severus, what brings you to call on me today? Normally you hardly contact any of us during the summer.” She tilted her head inquisitively.

“Minerva,” Severus replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement, only to gasp and squeeze his eyes shut as another wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. A minute later he cautiously opened his eyes and peered at her. “My apologies, Minerva…”

She waved his words away before he had even finished. “Not at all, Severus. We all know how dreadful you are when you use the Floo unless you’re not thinking about it.” Her lips twitched. “In fact, I remember the time that-“

“Thank you, Minerva,” Severus stressed, and the Deputy Head fell wisely silent. “I’m Floo-ing about some quite important business and Albus is nowhere to be found! Have you seen him?” Please say yes, please say yes.

Minerva looked regretful. “I haven’t seen him, but he did send an owl informing me that the situation at the Ministry is as bad as he thought, and that he isn’t to be disturbed by anyone. He did stress the ‘anyone’, Severus, so I can only assume he meant you as well.” Her apologetic face was starting to make him extremely irritated. Blast the old man! Setting up this impossible scheme and then abandoning me without as much as a backward glance!

“Indeed,” he huffed. He briefly considered asking Minerva for help, but balked at the last minute. He and Minerva got along only when they avoided anything concerning their House rivalries, and Severus had the feeling she would object to some of the methods he was using to take care of Potter. Besides that, the only person Severus Snape would ever ask for help was Albus Dumbledore. Who had currently vanished.

“Did he say what amazingly important setback the Ministry had experienced this time?” he snapped at her.

Minerva’s face went pale. “Oh, Severus, I thought you knew. The Ministry has been attacked by the Death Eaters.”

Severus’ heart went cold. Death Eaters.

Oh God, it’s happening again. I knew the Mark seemed different, I just knew it! Severus insides writhed in barely concealed panic. I can’t go back to the Dark Lord, I’m not ready! I’ll never be ready! Oh Merlin, no, please!

Though Severus had been careful to be openly biased in favour of his old colleagues’ children in class, it didn’t nearly begin to make up for the fact that Severus had been largely out of touch with the others for many, many years. That they had not invited him on their latest escapade did not bode well for Severus’ chances of returning to his place in the Inner Circle.

And then a second, even worse, thought hit him; Albus had deliberately not told him.

Instead, the Headmaster had stood there and told him to fetch Potter, all the while knowing that a Death Eater raid was in progress, and he hadn’t even seen fit to warn Severus. Instead, he had told him to go and babysit Potter, all the while rallying all the real members of the old Order to go to the Ministry’s aid, as though Severus wasn’t worth telling, like he didn’t deserve to know. Now, that hurt more than Severus cared to admit.

“Severus? Severus, are you all right?” Minerva’s voice brought him back to reality, making him force back all the anger, the fear, the bitterness, and the myriad of other feelings, which her words had brought forth.

“Fine, Minerva. Now that I know the reason the Headmaster has not contacted me yet, I really must be leaving.” Severus lips twisted as he suppressed the vitriol he longed to release in response to the bad news she had brought him.

“Ethel Weatherly sends you her regards,” he spat out, and yanked his head from the Floo before he could say anything that might be potentially damaging. After all, he did not want to be on the receiving end of Minerva’s temper once school had started again.

But anger was making spots dance in front his vision, and hurt caused his eyes burn and smart as if they were about to spill over. Severus surged to his feet and stared blindly at the mantelpiece. Fool! Of course Dumbledore doesn’t trust, you! You’re his pet Death Eater after all! Caged, but never truly tamed, and definitely not worthy of his trust!

Severus stormed around the room, pacing in circles, like a trapped animal, to try and escape the pain of betrayal; too highly strung to feel dizzy from the Floo, or even realise that empirical evidence of Albus’ trust was currently lying upstairs on his guestroom bed.

Severus stopped in the middle of the room, his back to the fireplace, and stared furiously at the ceiling. He viciously tugged the rag he had pocketed from earlier through his hands, as though he wished to strangle it. How could Dumbledore? How could he?

He closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh, trying to calm down, trying to use the analytical part of his mind, which had been so very useful when he was spying, instead of the emotional, irrational part that could hold grudges for well over twenty years…

One thing he did know for certain was that he couldn’t know all of the facts. Albus’ reasons for doing things were often complicated and convoluted, and far too manipulating; something Severus had been on the receiving end of far too many times. Therefore, the likelihood of Albus losing faith in his Potions Master was on the list of possible scenarios, but not necessarily the reason that the Headmaster had decided not to share this important piece of information with Severus. Besides, Severus had not given the Headmaster reason to stop trusting him after all these years, so that idea was unlikely.

Could the old fool think that by not telling me he’s somehow protecting me? That he’s trying to keep me out of harm’s way by preventing me from returning to my spying activities? Damn it all, that’s my decision to make, not his! Just because I find it distasteful doesn’t mean that I will hide away, whimpering in terror! He needs the information I can gather to win this war, so what’s he playing at? None of this makes any sense!

Severus shook his head in disgust. Can’t Dumbledore just tell me the whole story at least once? Just once! What am I supposed to do now? He said he’d contact me, but I bet he didn’t count on the Malfoys being involved on the ‘Potter’ side of things.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and shoved the rag back into his pocket. He didn’t even want to think about how much work was ahead of him to help secure his home as a more long term residence for Perfect Potter. Not to mention he would be expected to deal with both the Malfoys and the Dursleys if Dumbledore didn’t return soon.

Severus strode out of the living room, across the front hall and into his private study, which, as it happened, was placed directly above his Potions Lab. Severus had done this little bit of designing on purpose, so that, even if he was at the height of his very bad temper, he would be able to restrain himself from deliberately blowing up the Lab. Everything down there was expendable, and easily replaced, but his study contained important files, and rare and expensive ingredients which he could not afford to damage.

Severus dropped into the chair behind his desk and sighed; time to write a missive to Albus. Whether the old coot received it or not was another matter entirely.

Chewing his quill thoughtfully – though Severus would deny the habit if ever caught doing this – Severus mulled over his options. He could either send a heavily encrypted note with Anila, the female Barn Owl most people already knew that he owned. Or, he could send a more candid note with Aeolus – a male ‘Northern Spotted Owl’, which Severus only used for very private communications – and only leave out the names of the correspondents from the missive.

The problem with Aeolus was that he was fairly new, and more likely to get lost, thus delaying the delivery by a few days. But if he used Anila, the letter was almost certainly going to be intercepted by the Death Eaters at the Ministry if it was still under siege. Of course, Severus didn’t know the state of affairs because Albus hadn’t told him, so he would have to play the situation by ear.

His decision made, Severus opened his window and whistled for Aeolus – it was better for the letter to be delayed, than for it not to arrive at all.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Harry lay on his stomach, ankles carefully hooked together in the air behind him, staring into the long mirror opposite the end of his bed. Shadow, in exactly the same position on the other side of the glass, stared back.

“So, Shadow,” Harry started, smiling and leaning his head on one of his hands. “How’re you feeling? Was the journey here all right?”

Shadow held up one finger, and then followed it with a big ‘thumbs up,’ which made Harry grin. Shadow grinned back, and held up two fingers before holding one hand straight out in front of him, and shook it from side to side. A light sneer graced his face as he tried his point across.

Harry leaned forward, his eyes worried. “Not so good? Oh, Shadow, I’m sorry. But, you’re here now, and remember, that’s all that matters. I guess you got hurt again when I did, yeah? So you couldn’t come and find me straight away?” Harry paused while Shadow nodded solemnly, before making a wry face himself. “I really am sorry; Snape probably has the right idea, confining me to the bed. That way, I can’t hurt either of us anymore.”

Shadow rolled his eyes, pointed to his mouth, and drew his forefinger, middle finger and thumb together in a definite ‘closed’ motion, which had Harry laughing.

“All right, all right; I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself, I get it! I suppose this is the perfect opportunity for me to start working on the whole ‘who’s my father’ thing.” An extremely uneasy look passed over Harry’s face. “Shadow, please don’t say it’s Snape.”

Harry watched avidly as Shadow looked directly into his eyes… and shrugged.

“What?” Harry squeaked loudly. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? You’re the one who started me on this in the first place!”

Shadow could only shrug again and point from himself to Harry, over and over. Harry frowned deeply, before the oddest expression came over his face. Either this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought of, or the cleverest.

“Shadow,” Harry said, as slowly and carefully as possible. “You said that you’re me, right?”

Shadow nodded.

“So… so… If you’re me; that means that… you must know everything I know, right?”

Shadow nodded again, his eyes wide and pleading as though Harry was so, so close to the right answer, but just needed to think the tiniest bit further.

“And if you know everything I know,” Harry continued, his eyes firmly locked with Shadow’s. “The next logical thing must be… that I know everything that you know.”

Harry watched in amazement as Shadow leapt upright on the bed opposite and started bouncing around while silently yelling, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ Harry watched for several minutes, laughing loudly as Shadow continued to celebrate Harry’s ‘victory’. Only when he almost fell off the bed did Harry intervene.

“All right, now! Settle down! I’m pleased too, but we’re both still recovering. I thought you were supposed to be the sensible, all knowing one!”

Shadow stuck out his tongue at Harry, but obediently sat down opposite the black haired boy and crossed his legs. Harry moved to copy the position once more and smiled.

“I really should have worked that out sooner; you know, all that research that says we only use a tiny bit of our brain. Only you’re different, so you remember everything; all the little details that I’ve forgotten or skimmed over.” Shadow nodded emphatically. “So you,” Harry swallowed, “so you remember our Mum?”

A nod.

“And her telling us about our Dad?”

Another nod.

“Wow!” Harry was a little speechless by this point. Shadow can remember everything? God. That must do his head in! And he can’t even talk to me properly! “Where’s a biro and notepad when you need it?” Harry glanced quickly around the room; no biros.

Harry sighed as he stared at his trunk; though it contained exactly what he needed, there was no way he could reach it without climbing out of bed and alerting Snape. Not for the first time, Harry longed for his wand. He felt naked without it; without magic, for it was the only true way he had of defending himself. Not that he thought Snape was about to attack him, but something about the man always unsettled him; almost as if he had forgotten something basic that the man had told him to remember, and had to prepare himself to be sneered at. In that situation, he always felt much safer with his wand settled in his back pocket.

“Somehow we have to find a way to make Snape give us back our wand…” Harry stopped abruptly, as a horrible thought occurred to him. Harry stared at Shadow in horror, who stared back, his panic equal to that which was etched clearly on Harry’s face. “The decree for underage magic…” Harry breathed. “Do you think they’ll expel me this time? They haven’t sent me a warning or anything yet; that has to be bad…” Harry swallowed and tried to prevent his lower lip from trembling. The Ministry can’t break my wand! Magic is all I have!

Shadow waved for Harry’s attention and pantomimed stroking a very long beard.

“Dumbledore? Yeah, Dumbledore will save us, won’t he, Shadow?” Harry said, trying to convince himself that it was true. “I mean, he sent Snape to fetch us… well, me, and that should mean he’ll stand by me, doesn’t it?”

Shadow nodded encouragingly, though the reassurance looked tremulous at best.

“There you are then!” Harry exclaimed, trying to sound cheerful. He swung his legs off the bed and dangled them daringly over the end, tempting himself with the idea of standing up and walking about a little. “Um, Shadow?” he asked once the panic was pushed back to where he could control it once more. “Can you think of any back-up plans… you know… just in case?”

Shadow unconsciously copied Harry’s position, set his head on one hand, and stared off into the middle distance, his eyes vacant. Harry waited as patiently as he could, unwilling to disturb his double’s thoughts. Come on, Shadow, you know tons of things I’ve forgotten long ago. There must be something we can do!

Slowly, Shadow brought his eyes back up to meet Harry’s own, carefully blank, as though he were still trying to remember something. And then, all of a sudden, Shadow’s eyes snapped back into focus, staring at Harry with blinding, blazing delight.

“What? What is it?” Harry yelped, leaning as far forward as he could without falling off the bed. “What have you remembered?”

Shadow smirked at his enthusiasm, before cupping his hands in front of him and motioning for Harry to do the same. When Harry complied, Shadow gave him a thumbs-up. This made Harry sigh a little in frustration. It’s really hard having a friend who can’t speak; I can see that he wants me to understand as much as I do, but that doesn’t always help.

“Ok, Shadow, what now?” Harry asked with patience, his hands still cupped in front of him.

Shadow pointed at him. “I…” Shadow nodded and tapped the side of his head. What was that one again? Oh yeah; think or decide. “Think…” Shadow made another ‘sort of’ gesture, before sighing and nodding. Harry decided to help him along.

“So, I have to have my hands cupped for some reason, and I have to think of something. Therefore…” Harry thought furiously, completely baffled, but trying his best because Shadow seemed at a loss at how to proceed. “Ok, logically, cupped hands are normally holding something… so there has to be something which I need to put in my hands.” Harry paused, watching Shadow.

Shadow’s head had snapped up and his eyes were sparkling with renewed interest. Very cautiously he nodded, as though Harry had the right idea, but the hardest part was yet to come.

Harry sighed heavily and stared at his hands in concentration. He hoped his natural intuition as far as understanding what Shadow meant would help carry him through, especially as Harry’s future in the Wizarding World might depend on figuring this out…

I wonder…

“So, something needs to be in my hands, and I need to think about it.” Even to Harry, that sentence sounded ridiculous. “Help me here, Shadow. I know it’s hard, but please try!”

Shadow rubbed at his eyes wearily and started flicking his fist from side to side. Completely confused, Harry didn’t at first realise that Shadow was miming a wand movement. A second later it jumped out at him so suddenly, and seemed so obvious, that Harry laughed out loud.

“A wand! You’re holding a wand! So, is it something to do with mine?”

Shadow made another ‘sort of’ gesture – Harry could already tell he was going to see a lot of that gesture – and continued waving the imaginary wand, staring intently at Harry as he did it.

Something to do with my wand. Something so closely linked to my wand that Shadow hasn’t even bothered to change the gesture… And then he had the answer, so simple and easy that Harry couldn’t see how he had not realised it straight away. “Magic,” Harry breathed. “You want me to put magic in my cupped hands…” So great was his awe at the idea, that Harry missed the obvious flaw. It became apparent to him a second later.

“Hang on a minute! How the bloody hell am I going to do that?” Harry burst out. Shadow, smiling happily and looking elated that Harry had worked it out, didn’t seem to mind. The brown haired boy simply repeated the gesture for ‘think’ and, a second later, stroked the back of his wrist, holding it out for Harry to see.

“Feel?” Shadow nodded. “So I have to try and feel my magic, and then, well, think it into my hands?” A grin and a big nod. “Damn. Oh, all right, I’ll give it a go!”

Harry sat and stared at his cupped hands for several minutes trying to feel his magic. Nothing.

“Shadow? Help me!” Harry pleaded, looking up at his double.

Shadow smiled and nodded, seeming pleased with just the progress Harry had made so far, but not minding if the black haired wanted to attempt something more. Maintaining eye contact, Shadow placed his right hand directly in the centre of his chest, and then slowly drew it down his sternum until it was resting over his navel. He repeated the gesture for ‘feel’.

Harry felt a thrill of excitement. He had often heard people talk about witches and wizards having a magical ‘core’, but until this date, Harry had always thought of it as an allegory. Rather like the people who did not realise that the phrase ‘broken-hearted’ was more than a metaphor, until they had their own broken and were overcome by a very real aching pain in their chest. Like them, Harry suddenly realised that the ‘magical core’ was not just a turn of phrase, but a true thing, and Shadow had just shown Harry where his magical core was located.

Biting down on his excitement, Harry stared into his cupped hands once more. This time he did not immediately go in search for any wisp of magic he might be able to use. Instead, he sat and gradually let himself slip into a trance in the near silent room; staring at his hands and trying to think of nothing. Finally, when Harry felt he was ready, he slowly searched inward, trying to locate the area Shadow had indicated.

Long minutes ticked by, but Harry didn’t notice. He was so deep in his meditation that he was almost dozing. And then, all of a sudden, Harry felt it.

A trickle of gold twisted around his imaginary ‘fingers’ and Harry gasped at the sensation. It was like he’d plunged his hand into a very fizzy drink, or been electrocuted by a hundred little bolts of energy. It was something that tingled fiercely, something that was not liquid and not solid, but a state between the two. The sensation was both alien and familiar to Harry.

He gently twisted the tendril around his ‘fingers’ and slipped deeper into himself, following it back until…

Harry felt like he was staring into his very soul, which, in a way, he was. There was so much of the molten gold – this was the closest Harry could come to describing it in simple terms – thousands, billions of tendrils, all twisting around each other. Every second they were renewing and dissolving, all of them wound together in one massive, living core. Harry felt overwhelmed, humble, invincible, and elated, for he knew without knowing that a normal spell would only need the slightest particle of one of these tendrils to be performed.

Holy shit! Harry squeaked out in his own head. I’m powerful! It was near to the same feeling Harry had felt when Hagrid had opened his parents’ vault and had told Harry that all the gold was his. Only, this time, it was so much more, because this time Harry deserved it, all of it. This was his birthright; this was his and his alone.

Laughing with delight, Harry wound the first tendril he had found tighter around his ‘fingers’ and slowly pulled himself back to full consciousness. All the while, he was thinking with all his might about how the tendril would feel in his hands, how it would appear and curl into a tiny ball of golden light. How intensely magical it would feel.

Harry cracked open his eyes, only then realising that they had fallen shut, and peered down into his palm. There, in Harry’s cupped hands, glowing brightly, the surface shifting and coiling around itself, was a minute orb, barely a centimetre across. Harry gulped as he realised this tiny thing probably had the power to leave little more than a smoking crater in place of Tharabraye Manor if Harry so wished it.

Swallowing carefully, Harry inched his eyes up from the orb to Shadow, who was watching Harry with unrestrained awe.

“Err, Shadow?” Shadow nodded, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the ball of pure magic resting in Harry’s cupped hands, no matter how much Harry’s voice was quavering. “Shadow, what do I do with it?”

HPSSHPSSHPSS

In the end, Severus had had to go and find Aeolus. The owl had been dozing on his perch in the bedroom Severus, at his first convenience, had converted into an Owlery.

“Get up, you lazy bugger!” Severus told him affectionately, poking him with the missive. Aeolus gave him a sleepy look before shaking his feathers and looking attentive. “Deliver this straight into the hands of Albus Dumbledore, and woe betide you if you don’t!”

Aeolus hooted in acknowledgement and stayed still while Severus tied the letter to one of his legs. By now the owl was used to Severus’ curt form of address, though for the first few weeks he’d been in his new owner’s care, nipped fingers had been a regular occurrence for Severus.

Noticing his master was finished Aeolus drew himself up to his full height, opened his wings and soared out of the window. Anila looked indignant at the idea of her master choosing the new owl over her, but a couple of owl treats mollified her.

His first task out of the way, Severus made his way downstairs and outside, towards the boundaries of his home.

As with Manor Houses throughout the country, Tharabraye Manor had started out with an excessive amount of land attached to the property. However, over the many years since the house had been built, these grounds had gradually been shrunk down to the present day proportions. This meant that Severus was in current ownership of a large house, gardens which extended out about a hundred metres from the building, and a two hundred metre orchard at the back of the house.

Severus had made good use of the outside in the years after he had finished fixing up the house to his liking. Herbs and potion ingredients were grown in most every border, making some patches appear extremely exotic for rural England. Trees were dotted about here and there; according to certain plants’ preferences for damp and shady areas.

A low wall ran around the edge of the property, clearly marking the boundary between garden and countryside. Severus had attached several mild wards to it to discourage and alert him of intruders. Now, thanks to Potter, these wards had to be completely revamped. Grumbling quietly to himself, Severus pulled out his wand and set to work.

Luckily, it was not necessary to undo all of his previous wards to add the new, and Severus blessed the day he had purposefully chosen the type of wards that could be modified quickly in case he would ever have to hide from the Dark Lord.

Nevertheless, it still took him over two hours to be done; and that was only the outer wall. He would still have to raise the level of security around the house, but that was for another day.

The wards to keep out Muggles had been strengthened. The wards which would detect and temporarily nullify a magical core – giving Severus time to get down to the wall and ‘dissuade the intruder from continuing any further – had also been reinforced.

Wards to keep out any form of magical creature were created and set to maximum; Severus had had a lot of experience with the Dark Lord’s habit of using ‘exotic’ creatures to do his dirty work. And, if the ward happened to have a soporific effect on Animagi, well – Severus grinned – that wasn’t his problem.

Dumbledore had told him about Black’s learned skill after he had finished ticking Severus off about him forcing their best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to leave the school. The idea that his wards might permanently stymie the werewolf, Lupin, and Sirius Black, from finding Potter without his assistance, was a good one for Severus.

He let his mind wander as he started on the final lap of the wall, putting the Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards into place. The more wards he placed, the more repetitive and mundane his task became, so he let his mind drift back to the odious subject of Black and Lupin. He could still remember the first time he saw them both on the train to Hogwarts that very first time…

Severus had always been able to tell if someone was wearing a mask, mostly because he had worn one of his own for ever since he could remember.

The black-haired boy now sitting across from him was definitely wearing a mask. Oh, he may look jovial and act as though he didn’t have a care in the world, but Severus could tell. Every time the boy thought someone wasn’t looking, his eyes would darken and become wary, and his hand would twitch as though he wanted to draw his new school robes tight around himself.

In short, when his guard was down, he looked like Severus, and Severus was intrigued by this. The boy with the glasses by the window wasn’t nearly so interesting; he was obviously boringly normal. The brown-haired boy reading in the corner next to Severus was equally uninteresting.

“Hey, what’re you looking at?”

Severus blinked as a harsh voice dragged him out of his contemplations. Both of the black-haired boys were staring at him. Severus felt his palms prickling self-consciously. He fisted them in his second-hand robes to stop them shaking.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right! You were staring right at me! What’s your problem?” the dark-haired boy he had been studying snapped.

Severus felt anger start to boil deep in the pit of his stomach, but kept a check on his temper as this could be his chance to find more out more about the boy whose attitude had caught his attention.

“No, really, it’s nothing. I was just thinking.”

“Oh, yeah?” The boy sitting opposite him stood up, walked over and loomed over Severus, invading his personal space. “What a little liar you are,” he sneered while the bespectacled boy guffawed at the obvious entertainment. “I bet the Hat’ll put you in Slytherin before it even touches your greasy head!”

“There’s nothing wrong with Slytherin,” Severus mumbled, stung. Why was the boy acting this way? Couldn’t he see that Severus was the same as him?

“Hah! Is ‘nothing’ all you can say in answer to anything? Are you telling us what you’re really worth? ‘Nothing wrong with Slytherin’,” the boy mimicked. “Don’t make me laugh!”

Severus glared, so angry that tears of outrage were beginning to swim before his eyes. Where was Lily when he needed her?

“Leave me alone.”

“Aww, look di widdle baby’s cwying!” mocked the boy with the glasses, backing up the first.

The brown-haired boy looked up at that, but the second he caught Severus’ gaze, he dropped his gaze back to his book, his ears turning red. Severus felt a wash of righteous indignation overcome him. How dare the boy try to pretend that nothing was happening? Who did they think they all were?

The door of the compartment slid open.

“Severus! Severus! You’ve got to come and see this! One of the older kids snuck a python on board…” Lily trailed off as she took in the scene before her. The brown-haired boy next to Severus was desperately trying to hide behind his book, Severus was sitting and practically shaking with rage, and the two dark-haired boys were shaking with laughter.

“Severus!” the first boy mimicked in a high pitched voice. “Severus, I ask you! What kind of name is that?” Another shout of laughter. “Snivellus is more like it!”

Severus had had enough, and shot to his feet, groping in his robes for his wand. Lily didn’t give him a chance to reach it.

“No, Sev!” She grabbed his arm. “Go outside, they’re not worth it!”

“Let go, Lily!” he snarled at her, trying to get free as the laughing increased. Even the boy sitting in the corner was smirking a little.

“Severus, please!” she begged him. This gave Severus pause, and enough time for him to regain control and give her a jerky nod.

As he walked out of the compartment, he heard the first boy yell after him, “See ya later, Snivellus, we’ll get you when your little girlfriend isn’t around to protect you!”

The only thing that stopped Severus from turning around and hexing the bastard rotten was the sharp crack of Lily’s palm as it connected with the boy’s cheek.

Severus smirked. That day, Black had got his just desserts, but it had been the beginning of a long and bitter feud between Severus and the Marauders. It had taken many years for Severus to work out that the reason Black had started picking on him that day was precisely because the other boy had seen similarities between himself and Severus, and had been frightened by them. That certainly wasn’t enough reason for Severus to forgive him, though!

Survival of the fittest, indeed! Severus thought bitterly and abruptly turned his thoughts away from darker times.

He frowned a little as finished off the wards, worn out from all the spell-casting. The wards were nowhere near as strong as the ones around Hogwarts, but they would have to do.

Nearly sagging with exhaustion, Severus made his way back to the house. He hated it when his own magic wore him out, and hated it even more when he was left feeling helpless because of it.

Severus was normally quite a powerful wizard, but the reappearance of the Dark Mark on his left forearm caused his magic to be depleted, for the evil symbol needed a large amount of magical energy to sustain its dark presence. This magical energy was drained from its bearer with impunity, despite the fact that the bearer needed to use the energy too.

 After all, it would not do for the Dark Lord to waste energy sustaining his loyal subjects’ calling cards, would it now? Severus thought bitterly. He may never know when he may need to use it, and it’s so much more important for the Dark Lord to keep up his magical strength compared to his servants!

Of course, like anyone else who had had to deal with a handicap for as long as Severus had, Severus had come up with several tricks to alleviate the less desirable symptoms. For some reason, the Dark Mark did not like Firewhiskey.

Locating his own personal supply of Firewhiskey in the kitchen at the back of the Manor was easy enough. Severus had restocked the second he had noticed a slight darkening on his forearm. Though he had hoped the return of the Mark was his imagination, paranoia had kept Severus alive for so long that he always heeded its warning. Therefore several new bottles of Old Odgen’s had been stored under the kitchen sink in preparation for darker times.

Pouring himself a large glass, Severus gulped it down as quickly as he could, shuddering in disgust. When one comes to associate a taste with a creature as dark as Voldemort, not even the sweetest flavour in the world could make the liquid appear pleasant.

Panting slightly, Severus leaned against a counter and closed his eyes, revelling in the feel of strength returning to his mind, limbs and magic. For some reason, Firewhiskey acted as an insulator around Severus’ magical core against anything associated with Dark magic. Though this prevented him from brewing several potions that were ‘borderline’ Dark, it was a welcome sacrifice he made to restore his strength.

Flexing his fingers, Severus cast a simple Banishing Charm on the alcohol and smirked slightly to himself as the bottle responded to his command immediately.

Sighing in relief, Severus made his way down to the dungeons of his Manor, hoping to clear up the mess he had left down there, blissfully unaware that a few metres above his head, Harry Potter held enough power in his hands to completely obliterate Severus’ beloved Manor and all of its precious new wards.

Harry glared. After all, it isn’t fair to be expected to hold a phenomenal amount of magic in your hands while the person who told you how to conjure it has burst into giggles.

Eventually, Shadow managed to get a hold of himself, though his green eyes were still sparkling with mischief. By this point Harry was starting to feel more than a little panicked. The small globe of magical energy was starting to feel awfully hot in his hands.

“Help me! You told me to put this here, now tell me how to get rid of it!” Harry yelped, praying that Snape wouldn’t take this moment to come and check up on him.

Still laughing a little Shadow climbed off the bed and hurried over to the mirror version of Harry’s trunk and opened the lid. Harry watched, shocked, as Shadow pulled out a roll of parchment and a blue biro, preparing to write Harry a message.

“Shadow,” Harry said; his voice low and dangerous. “Do you mean to tell me you could have written to me earlier? When you really needed to explain something in precise terms to me?”

Shadow looked a little guilty, but smirked and nodded while smoothing the parchment out on the floor on his side of the mirror.

“Are you trying to wind me up?”

Still smirking, Shadow held up his thumb and forefinger a measured inch from each other.

Harry growled low in his throat and the orb in his hands sparked a little. Swallowing hard, Harry concentrated on the magic, and tried to keep both it and his temper dormant. It seemed the two were interlinked, and Harry shuddered to think of what might happen if he wasn’t careful.

Eventually, Harry looked up and saw Shadow pressing the piece of parchment up to his side of the glass. Harry leaned forward eagerly and tried to read it. His brow wrinkled in confusion. It was covered with unintelligible swiggles.

“Shadow, I can’t read this…” Harry’s voice trailed off as he gaped at the message. “It’s all backwards!”

The brown-haired boy pulled the paper away from the mirror, looked at it, and cursed silently.

“Never mind about that, re-write it quickly! I think I can hold onto this until then. In fact,” Harry’s frown deepened, “it’s getting easier, the longer I hold it.” It was true. The longer he held it, settled in his hands, the more natural it felt. The furious heat had cooled a little and now the orb almost felt like an extension of his body. Harry smiled; in a way, it was.

Shadow smirked and held the rewritten message up for Harry to read a moment later. The letters were large and wonky, and some were still backwards, but it was readable.

Harry squinted and read, “You needed to learn on your own, if I had used too much… detail in explaining how to c… conjure your power, you would have had… great difficulty in reaching your magic. To get rid of the magic, you must use it. What! Use it for what?”

Shadow dropped the parchment and pretended to bash his head against the other side of the mirror.

“All right!” Harry grumbled. “I’ll think of something…” The terrible heat of the magic had calmed a little more, but it was still uncomfortable to hold. How is it that whenever I need to think of a spell, my mind goes blank?

Finally, one thing floated to the front of his mind, and after he had thought of it, it seemed so obvious that Harry almost copied Shadow.

He cleared his throat. “So, to cast this, do I just say what I want? It doesn’t feel like the kind of magic that can be controlled by a spell,” Harry said thoughtfully. Shadow shrugged, but Harry was already speaking. “I want to be able to hear Shadow!”

Nothing happened.

Shadow grabbed the parchment and scribbled down three words. Harry leaned forward to read it again.

“Use an order… All right then.” He looked at the ball of molten gold in his hands. “Make me able to hear Shadow!”

Still nothing happened.

Utterly frustrated, Harry stared hard at the orb and snarled. “Let – Me – Hear – Shadow!”

A swirl of gold snapped off and disappeared, and Harry gasped. He had actually physically felt the magic separate and be used – more magic than a normal spell would use, but not the entire orb. The orb in question, sensing he had no other use for it, shivered and sank back into his palm, fusing again with his magical core.

Harry sat, shaking and staring at his hands, simultaneously feeling adrenaline and exhaustion accompanying the first use of his pure magic, and being completely awed by it. So much so, that for many minutes, he could only sit and take shivering breaths as he felt the remnants of the magic dancing in his blood, and the uncontrollable fatigue that accompanied it.

Eventually, the feeling of magic faded and Harry was left feeling drained and sleepy. His only wish was to able to curl up and sleep for a week. Thank goodness I’m sick; I couldn’t cope with anything else right now, Harry thought as he slipped under the covers; taking off his glasses and closing his eyes.

‘Hi, Harry.’ A young voice sounded throughout the room.

Jumping in shock, Harry sat up and looked wildly around him, but he only saw Shadow waving at him.

And then, it clicked. Shadow!

‘It worked, Harry!’ Shadow told him happily, before concern coloured his eyes a little. ‘Go to sleep, it’s probably drained you. Sorry.’

“That’s OK, Shadow,” Harry mumbled as he slid back down under the duvet, smiling.

‘Oh, and Harry?’

“Hmm?” Harry blearily opened one eye and peeped at the mirror.

Shadow grinned. ‘Thanks, Harry. Thanks so much!’

HPSSHPSSHPSS

It had taken several hours to clean up the lab, not to mention that he had had to decant and bottle the potion that had been left there since the night before. And then, on top of that, he had had to brew another batch for Pomfrey in case the first was faulty from being left in the open air for so long.

Eventually, Severus hauled himself out of the lab, back stiff and eyes tired. I really hope Potter doesn’t chose tonight to cause mischief. With the mood I’m in, he’d be lucky if I tied him to the bedposts and left him there ‘til morning! Rubbing his eyes, Severus made his way to the kitchen and quickly made up some soup that he could hopefully have Potter eat in a relatively short space of time.

Severus settled everything on a tray and levitated it up behind him, leaving his hands free to rub his eyes again. Far too much has happened today. Is it really only August the First? First Potter, then Albus; those two are enough to drive any sane man to the limits in under an hour, let alone twenty four!

He had just reached Potter’s door when he heard the boy’s voice ring out from the other side of it.

“Am I going to be that wiped out every time, Shadow?”

A pause. Severus shook his head, intensely puzzled. Who in the world was Potter talking to? Stepping closer, he pressed his ear against the door and listened harder.

“Well, that’s no good! I suppose it’s one of those things that have to be worked on, eh? Oh well, I’ll give it another go after supper… If Snape feeds me, that is!”

Having had enough, Severus grabbed the door handle and flung open the door, hoping to catch Potter and whatever accomplice he had gained red handed.

Then the door was open and Severus looked towards the bed to see… Potter lying on his back, fast asleep.

Severus pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed hard. Far too much has happened today, I really must be losing it! Floating the tray in, Severus closed the door behind him and advanced on the bed. A closer examination of Potter proved that he really did seem to be what he appeared to be – fast asleep. A check under the bed, in the wardrobe, and finally, the bathroom revealed no intruders and the windows were still charmed to not open more than an inch.

Severus looked back towards the bed containing the little devil in cherub’s clothing. The only explanation is that either I’m going barmy, or Potter talks in his sleep… I’m not sure which option is the most preferable.

With a wave of his wand, the tray was set on the bedside table. Severus stepped over to the bed and looked down at the sleeping boy. He really is easier to handle when he’s asleep… and he looks so much younger too. For the first time, Severus felt a strong trickle of concern at how thin the boy was. He’s my responsibility now, and I’ll make sure that he’s properly looked after – whether he wants it or not! Severus was surprised at how his thoughts didn’t create feelings of disgust or panic in him, as he’d expected. He decided not to examine the reasons why not too closely.

“Potter, Potter.” He reached out and shook the boy’s shoulder gently. After all, he didn’t want him falling out of bed in shock, did he? “Potter, wake up. Don’t think you can escape having your supper that easily, boy!”

The green eyes snapped open and stared at him in shock, but the boy made no other move. Severus realised that he still had his hand on the boy’s shoulder and withdrew it quickly.

“Your supper,” he said, jutting his chin at the tray.

Potter swallowed. “Thank you, sir,” he muttered, not looking at his teacher. Severus felt a spike of irritation at his insolence, but decided to let it slide. This time.

The soup disappeared at a surprising rate, given Potter’s slow consumption of lunch. Evidently liquidised food is the way forward… maybe liquidised sprouts next time! Severus suppressed an evil smirk at the idea. He would really love to feed disgusting substances to Potter under the pretence that it was ‘for his own good’. After all, Potter still owed Severus for knocking him out in the Shrieking Shack.

Potter placed his spoon back in his empty bowl with a sigh. After a second of silence, he looked up at his teacher from under his lashes, as if gauging what kind of reaction his next words were going to have.

“Thank you, sir. Do you do the cooking here? It’s really good.”

The boy flinched, as though expecting a blow, but did not lower his gaze. Severus blinked, surprised and pleased by the boy’s words, and for a second, he did not know what to say in reply.

“Yes, I do. But seeing as I am a Potions Master, that information should not be all that surprising to you.” Severus gave a condescending sneer to try and cover up his puzzlement.

“Oh!” The boy straightened, his eyes sparkling a little. “I can cook too, maybe…” The boy blushed. “Maybe when I’m allowed up, I can make something to repay you?”

Severus glared. “You’re going to have to try harder than that if you wish to poison me, Potter!” he snapped.

Potter sighed and crossed his arms, but didn’t say anything further. A low thunk resounded throughout the room; like a large bird had hit a window a long way away. Severus head snapped up.

“What was that?” he rapped out, staring at Potter, who had gone milk-white the moment Severus had spoken.

“I- I don’t know, sir.”

Severus gave him a sour look – it was obvious the boy was hiding something – and strode over to the window, staring outside for any sign of what had made the noise. Seeing nothing, he took the charm preventing the window from opening more than an inch off and opened it wide, peering down onto the porch roof below. Nothing.

Puzzled and frustrated, Severus shut the window and turned back towards the bed. Potter was staring at the mirror and shaking his head. Even as Severus watched, the boy lifted one his hands and massaged at the back of his neck.

Noticing Severus watching him, he dropped his hand. “Do you have any muscle relaxing potions, sir? I think I slept on my neck funny.”

Severus huffed. “I’ll see what I have in my stores, Potter. If there is nothing there, you’ll just have to bear your great pain,” he hissed at his student, letting some of his frustration regarding the whole day shine through. He considered himself to have been quite restrained so far, compared to what he could have said.

Potter flushed at his words and looked down. “It’s OK, you don’t have to,” he mumbled, his tone making Severus seethe. Before he could open his mouth to say anything in reply though, Potter had looked up at him again with a pleading look in his eyes. “Please, Professor. Could I please be allowed out of bed sometimes? I’ve been in bed all day today and I don’t think I need to rest my ankle much any more. It’s feeling much better and I’ll be really careful, I promise!”

Severus blinked. It was quite possibly the most the boy had said to him the whole day. He frowned, considering his options; he could just keep the boy confined to his bed just to spite him. Unfortunately, Potter had this annoying habit of driving people who disagreed with him to distraction and Severus had quite enough on his plate at the moment. Besides, it was likely the ankle needed exercise to heal further…

“Show me your ankle!”

Potter obliged so quickly that Severus had to blink. Potter never obeyed anything Severus told him to do quickly. The right motivation will work wonders, Severus thought wryly as he walked around to the other side of the bed. He proceeded to check the ankle and found, to his surprise, that most of the heat and the swelling had gone down. It was further healed than he would have thought possible at this point.

But then, Potter has always healed quickly. Severus looked up into those big, green eyes and sighed.

“Very well. I shall remove the spell, but if I find that you have been out of this bed for any reason other than it being completely necessary, you will find yourself stuck to this bed for a week!”

Potter didn’t look very upset by his last words. On the contrary, he was even smiling a little at Severus. What the blazes has got into the boy? He never acts this cheerful at Hogwarts! Actually, he does, but never around me! What has got into him?

Shaking his head, Severus grabbed the tray and made to leave.

“If you sleep well tonight, I might let you down to the library tomorrow to do your homework. Don’t even try to pretend that you’ve started it, yet!” Why did I say that? I don’t want him in my library! Merlin knows what he might get up to in there on his own. You’ve just confined yourself to the library for as long as he’s in there tomorrow. You idiot!

Bewildered at his words, Severus shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Maybe he really was losing it. An image of another pair of green eyes, their owner smiling at him, swam before his mind’s eye. Gritting his teeth, Severus vanished the tray. It was not fair that the only thing left of Lily in this world had to look like James Potter.

As he listened to the sound of Snape’s footsteps fading away, Harry Potter breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was close, Shadow! We’re lucky that I was still in practice for the Dursleys! I though he was onto us for a moment.”

Shadow nodded solemnly, then smirked. ‘Indeed, Harry. You do fake being asleep most wonderfully. In fact, if it were an Olympic sport, I’m sure you’d get gold!’

Harry tried to scowl, but that’s difficult to do when you’re giggling. “Shut up, you sarcastic git!” he said affectionately before sobering a little. “You do realise that he heard you, don’t you? When you threw yourself against the mirror?”

‘Yeah.’ Shadow looked worried. ‘No one should be able to do that except you – you did specify yourself in the spell, after all.’

Puzzled, they stared at each other for a moment, before shrugging. “You never tried hitting the glass around another wizard, maybe he heard because of that.” Harry laughing a little. “I mean, he didn’t hear you call him ‘a miserly old git who wouldn’t know a favour if it bit him on the arse’ so I think we’re safe. You really are wonderfully creative with your insults!”

Shadow got up off his bed and gave a mock bow. ‘I try my best. Actually, I think it’s more to do with the fact I haven’t been able to say anything up to now – abstinence makes the tongue grow harsher! You should have heard some of the things I was saying to Vernon!’

“Really? What were they?”

Shadow made a face. ‘Actually, I can’t remember all to well. Can you remember things that you’ve mouthed at other people?’ Harry shook his head. ‘Exactly. While I’m sure I could recall them if I tried, I’d rather not dwell on that time too much.’

Both boys shuddered.

“At least Snape didn’t notice anything. I can’t even imagine telling Dumbledore or Sirius about the Dursleys, let alone Snape…” Harry trailed off before starting again, his voice lower than before. “Did you notice how gentle he was with me? No one, not even Madame Pomfrey has been as gentle as he was when examining my ankle.”

Shadow sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘I think Severus Snape is a very complicated man and trying to understand him will only result in many headaches. Of course, directly before that, he was a nasty git to you. It’s probably safe to say that he means you no harm, no matter what he himself says.’

Harry nodded glumly. Why can’t anything be what it appears to be in my life? First, I’m hunted by an escaped convict who’s out for my blood, and then I find out he’s my long lost godfather! My nice, mild-mannered DADA Professor turns out to be a slavering beast, and now Snape – nasty git and all round bad guy – has saved my life. Again. I swear I don’t go around looking for things like this – they just happen to me!

Harry was brought back to reality by someone whistling at him.

‘Earth to Harry,’ whistle, ‘Earth to Harry,’ another whistle. ‘Are you going to stop wallowing any time soon? Hey, hang on a moment! I can whistle!’ Another bout of whistling came forth from the other side of the glass. Harry laughed.

“Shadow, shut up, I’m back now.” Shadow finished a stanza of ‘Greensleeves’ and grinned at him. “I can see that now you’re able to talk you’re going to get even weirder.”

‘Hey! Not fair. Besides, I’m you, remember? Any mannerisms I have come straight from you!’

Harry chuckled as his double’s mock-outrage. “Fair enough. You’re going to have to explain the whole ‘you’re me’ thing one day, because I’m completely stumped.”

Shadow shrugged. ‘I don’t know any more than you about this whole matter. I mean, I’ve always ‘existed’ after a fashion, but I wasn’t actually a conscious being until you’re fourteenth birthday.’ Shadow sighed. ‘Well, at least neither of us know where we came from, it’d be kind of lonely otherwise.’

Harry nodded. “Don’t worry, you’ve got me, and now I’ve got you!”

‘Ha! True. We can be lonely together. By the way, many congratulations on working out the sign language.’ As if to prove his point, Shadow waved his arms around.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t that bad,” Harry said, smirking at Shadow’s antics. “I just thought about how I would communicate if I couldn’t talk, and most of the signs just fell into place. I must say, you’re a lot more like me than I originally thought. I pegged you more for the serious, all-knowing type.”

Shadow gave him a solemn look. ‘You try being quirky when you can’t talk.’

“Fair point.”

‘Indeed.’

“So…” Harry smirked. “What are we going to do for the rest of the holidays? Does getting on Snape’s nerves, exploring the Manor and writing to friends sound good to you?”

Shadow smirked back. ‘Definitely. It’s payback time for all the nasty things he did to us! It’s not as if we could avoid irritating him anyway – the man finds fault with everything. We might as well get some subtle amusement out of it.’

It’s fun to think about things like this, but having no real intention of actually doing them, or, at least, something so minor that it’s easy to get away with! “I agree, but we should be careful – nothing too overt. I still have to live with him and I’d rather not spend the rest of my holiday tied to the bed… It’s not funny, Shadow!”

Shadow stopped laughing long enough to choke out. ‘You should pretend you’re going barmy! Did you see his face when you were shaking your head at me before you covered it with rubbing your neck? It was priceless! A mad Potter’s probably his worst nightmare!’

“Shadow, you’re brilliant!”

‘Now, now, Harry. Self-flattery will get you nowhere!’

Harry mock-glared. “Is it your plan to truly drive me mad? Because you’ll have succeeded before the end of the week if you keep this up!”

Shadow sobered. ‘Sorry. You’re not really mad at me, are you?’

“’Course not.”

‘I think it’s because I can actually speak now. I’ll have calmed down by morning, I promise! In fact, I think I’ll go and check out the library to see if it has a mirror. I hate using windows, they make everything blurry.’

“Really? What was the water like?”

Shadow snorted. ‘Really funny. Your face was all distorted.’

Harry thought for a moment. “How about glasses? You could try to get on the inside of mine. That’d make everything a lot easier.”

Shadow’s face transformed in amazement. ‘Of course! I should have tried that when you were running away from Blondie.’

“Malfoy.”

‘Whatever. So, let’s give it a go, eh?’

Shadow disappeared from the mirror and a second later, something obscured Harry’s vision in his left eye.

“Whoa!” Harry pulled his glasses off. Surprisingly, Shadow’s form was still crystal clear. “Hi again. How’s that for you?”

Shadow nodded. ‘Good. With practice, we’d probably be able to talk without you having to take them off. I can just see Snape’s face if you went wandering around, holding your glasses in one hand and talking to them!’

Harry fell over laughing. “Oh, Shadow, with you here, this summer might actually turn out to be some fun!”

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus stood in the library and looked around the various shelves; there were far too many inappropriate books for Severus to be able to sort them all out by tomorrow. Damn! There’s nothing for it – I shall just have to spend tomorrow in here with the Potter brat. Not my ideal way to spend my summer holiday. Not at all.

Severus sighed and retreated to his living room to nurse his headache and mull over the events of the day; namely what Potter appeared to be hiding from him. He sat down on the couch and stared into the low flames still flickering in the hearth, folding his hands in his lap and then…

A low screeching wail sounded in his head. With a yell, he leapt up and slammed his hands to either side of his head, trying to cut out the noise that bordered on painful. The sound did not diminish. Gasping with realisation, Severus took his wand and pressed it to his temple. The noise dimmed, but did not disappear.

Severus stood still for a couple of seconds, his face grim and waxen. Someone just had tripped his wards. Someone who was not welcome at Tharabraye Manor was trying to get in.

Adrenaline thumped through his veins and Severus gripped his wand tighter. Time to go and face them… whoever they were. His feet were moving before he even consciously decided where to go; first hesitant steps, then more determined ones, and finally, full-out sprinting strides.

He snatched his cloak from the stand in the hall and approached the door, hand already outstretched to turn the handle.

“Severus!” a voice yelled. Severus whirled around, wand pointed straight into the room he had just left, a hex on his lips. “Severus!” The fire flared green and Minerva McGonagall’s head appeared. “Severus, the Headmaster said this was most important–”

“Not now, Minerva!” he yelled over her words as he felt the wards twinge again, only this time much stronger. Whoever who was trying to get in was succeeding…

Severus snatched the door handle and yanked it open, sprinting across the lawn towards where the breach was being made. The second he had taken five steps out the door, the ringing on the wards ceased as the perpetrator realised Severus had noticed them. Severus redoubled his stride, wand out in front of him, determined to catch them.

Nearly at the wall, Severus roared “Lumos!” and watched as light exploded from his wand, giving an eerie glow to his surroundings. Another two strides and his body slammed into the wall, his hand already waving the wand around to illuminate the ground over the wall. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Severus panted for breath and dragged his hair out of his face, leaning even further forward to peer into the shadows. He yielded no results from there, so he checked the ground right below, cursing his bad luck. Are the wards faulty somehow? I was already tired when I did this patch.

But no, there, directly below where he was standing, on the other side of the wall, were boot prints. Severus stood upright with a sharp intake of breath.

“Who’s there?” No answer. “You’re clumsiness has betrayed you; I know you are there!” Still no answer. “Fine! You’d better not try again tonight. I’ll be watching and next time, I’ll catch you!” he snapped at the dark. Severus felt the prickly feeling on the back of his neck that he always got if someone was watching or listening to him. He suppressed a shudder. Whoever had tried to break the wards was still here.

“So, you want to play it like that, do you?” he sneered. He pointed his lighted wand at the area he felt sure the person was standing. “Incendio!”

The shrubs on the other side of the wall went up in a blaze of light. However, the hissing and popping of his spell could not mask the quiet crack that resounded throughout the night.

“Aguamenti!” The flames were doused and went out in a hiss of steam. Severus nodded to himself and relaxed his grip on his wand slightly. The person who had tried to breach the wards was obviously a witch or a wizard and it was clear their intentions weren’t exactly benign. However, the real question was; did they know that Potter was inside the current residence they had attempted to enter, or was it just someone with a personal grudge?

Severus shuddered slightly as he repaired and increased the wards. It was quite possible that the person who had visited tonight was a Death Eater out for revenge. After all, they had attacked the Ministry without asking or telling him about it. Maybe his old comrades had finally decided that he was a traitor to their ranks and someone to be dealt with. It seemed likely – the attack on the Ministry appeared to be pretty big. It was almost as if, after all those years of biding their time, they had decided to make the next move in the war.

Severus wrapped his cloak tighter around him as he trudged back to the house after one last look into the darkness. Thinking about the return of the Dark Lord was not what he needed right now. He felt a peculiar desire to go up to Potter’s room and spend the rest of the night camped out in the chair beside it.

Severus pursed his lips. I am worrying far too much over that boy. Just because he’s my charge for the summer doesn’t mean I should hate him any less!

He made his way back into the warmth of his house and hung up his cloak with a weary sigh, wishing that this August the First could be like any other he had had in the past; boring and non-descript. He almost groaned when he walked into his living room and found Minerva McGonagall standing on his hearth rug, arms folded and looking fit to strangle him.

“Minerva,” he said tiredly. “Before you even think about berating me, you might consider would you would have done had there been a malicious intruder trying to get into your house.”

The stern look left her face and for a second, left her looking completely astounded. However, the next moment her strict demeanour came back with a vengeance. “Be that as it may, Severus Snape, you might want to consider that the Headmaster rarely asks for things that have no importance, no matter how irrelevant they may seem. No,” she said sharply, raising her hand as he made to interrupt, “I’m not interested in your excuses, however valid they may be. The point of the matter is that Albus has just sent me an owl, urgently asking you to go to Privet Drive and ‘clear up’ for him. Now, I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure you do.”

Severus stood frozen as he realised the implications of this message. Oh no.

“Thank you, Minerva,” he snapped as he turned and ran back towards the door. A sudden thought hit him. Drat! “Minerva, this may seem an odd request, but I must insist that you remain here until I am once again within the walls of this house. It is imperative that you do this!”

Minerva threw her hands up in the air. “Imperative indeed! Between you and the Headmaster, I shall never get any of my work done before the start of term!”

“Minerva…”

“Go, shoo!” She flapped her hands at him. “Far be it from me to stop you! I shall wait until you return.”

He nodded and bolted out of the front door again, sprinting down to the Manor gates where the Anti-Apparition wards ended, cursing Albus all the way. Skidding to a stop, he gripped his wand and turned on the spot, Disapparating from his home.

Severus always likened Apparition to having the floor abruptly fall out from under him, and then, a split second later, halt suddenly under his weightless feet; bringing him back to earth with a sharp thump. This time was no different from any of the others; but luckily, Severus was more adept at Apparition than he was at Floo travel.

Severus crept out from the lee of a darkened house, peering around Privet Drive, checking for anything out of the ordinary. To be honest, Severus wasn’t quite sure what to expect or, indeed, what was expected of him. Dumbledore had said to ‘clear up’, but what was he to do with Lucius and the Dursleys when he found them?

Pursing his lips in a determined scowl, he wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, hoping that if any Muggles spotted him he would simply appear to be wearing a very long overcoat. In summer.

Severus sighed. There are eccentrics even in Muggle culture, aren’t there? I just hope that if anyone spots me this time, they won’t stick around for a closer look.

He set off down the road towards Number Four, his head bent to conceal his identity from the few Muggles who still had their lights on. Maybe I’ll have an epiphany of what to do with Lucius while setting up protection wards around the house – after all, the blood wards did sod all, didn’t they? Suddenly feeling nervous, Severus quickened his pace. Yes, protection is a good idea. There’s no way I’m housing Muggles along with Potter. If I take measures to protect them, Albus will have nothing to complain about.

He stopped in front of the Dursley residence and looked up at the darkened windows. Everyone seemed to be asleep. He walked up the drive, past the car and to the front door.

“Alohomora,” he whispered, and the lock clicked almost inaudibly. He crept inside the silent house and shut the door behind him. Odd. It seems almost too silent in here. Severus crept down the hall, peered into a door to his left and felt his breath catch in his throat. The mess he had seen in the kitchen last time was still there.

Chills crept down his spine and he made for the stairs, no longer caring about any noise he might make. Then he was at the top of the staircase, opening the first door to his right, ignoring the locks on the outside in favour of checking the interior. It was completely empty save one small, single bed. Severus shut the door and opened the next one along the hallway.

The chills got worse. A big double bed sat in the centre of the room; immaculately made up and evidently not slept in. Severus whirled around and opened the door opposite; another single bed, only this one was surrounded by toys and games. Severus pursed his lips. Probably Potter’s room. The room next to that was obviously an unoccupied guest room and the only other room was the bathroom.

Severus stood on the landing breathing heavily. The house was deserted, but the car was still there, which could only mean…

Severus hurried downstairs, flicking on all the lights as he went, finding all the things he wished he could not. Signs of a struggle; smashing glass, smeared food, even in one instance blood.

Fool, fool, fool. You should have known better than to trust Narcissa Malfoy’s intentions… Severus gasped suddenly and sprinted from the house, down Privet Drive and into Magnolia Crescent, heading straight for a certain bush. Once there, he scrabbled underneath it, cursing as his hands failed to come into contact with the elder Malfoy.

Sighing, Severus sat back on his haunches and pinched the bridge of his nose. Too late. It was obvious now what had happened; Narcissa had subdued the Muggles, Stunned them and gone to find her husband once it was obvious to her that Potter was missing. Her husband retrieved, she had then proceeded to take the Muggles as compensation for missing out on the grand prize.

Severus slowly stood and trudged back to Number Four, cursing himself for missing the completely obvious. And to think; for a short time I had Lucius Malfoy under my power and I then let the opportunity slip through my hands!

Shutting the front door behind him, Severus locked it once more and set about making the place look respectable. It was the least he could do after making such a monumental mess up. Stopping by the sitting room, Severus paused, puzzled by what he saw. Instead of flicking off the light switch and leaving, he stepped further into the room and over to the mantelpiece.

Three Dursleys stared back at him, frozen mid-smile from the many Muggle photos on the mantelpiece. Severus frowned at them. Where on Earth is Potter in all of these? For not a single shot showed the green eyed boy. Severus moved to the next room, searching for more photos, searching for proof of the boy’s existence in this house, and feeling slightly more desperate each time he found nothing.

In a last ditch attempt to locate something of Potter’s, he opened the cupboard under the stairs and looked in, scoffing at himself the second the door was open.

 But there was something there… Peering closer, Severus made out a childish scrawl written in Muggle crayons on the underside of one of the stairs; Harry’s room.

Severus’ hand trembled slightly. Harry’s room. Dear Merlin, no. Very slowly he shut the door and climbed the stairs. Enough, Severus, you’re overreacting; every child has a hideaway. But why then were there no photos of him? Or any evidence that he lived in this house at all?

Severus stood and stared at the door to the right of the stairs; stared at the many locks and remembered that this was the same room whose window was wide open on the night Potter made his escape. Severus stepped forwards and pushed open the door; bare room, single bed. Nothing else, save for a large wardrobe and an old desk. He walked in and felt something crunch under his foot.

There on the floor was an owl pellet, and next to it, tucked down the side of the desk was a piece of parchment. Severus tugged it free and stared dully at Potter’s half-finished Potions essay.

By now, Severus was ready to consider that he had made colossal error in judgement.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Harry woke and peeped out from under his lashes at a blurry needle of moonlight speared across his bed. For about two seconds he wondered what had woken him, before imperceptibly stiffening with realisation. Somebody was in the room with him.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for them to go away. He knew the Dursleys hated him doing his homework in the dead of night, but he had been only sleeping this time, honest! The only thing was, the person in his room with him didn’t have Vernon or Dudley’s heavy breathing, but neither did they possess the quick, fidgety movements Aunt Petunia made when she checked on him. In fact, this person was remaining completely still and silent, and it was only Harry’s long experience of being wary which had alerted him to their presence.

Harry took a slow breath and delved his imaginary fingers down into his magical core. He had been doing this almost constantly since he had first discovered it – like picking at a new scab, unable to leave it alone – and he was now able to locate it and select a strand with no problem at all. The difficulty now lay with pulling the strand out so that it could be used. He was still depleted from using the spell on Shadow, and didn’t have the strength to make a new ball of magic available to him without damaging himself.

Harry was willing to try this if it saved his life, but only as a last resort. Keeping the strand he had selected ready for use, he slowly opened his eyes and peered around the room. Maybe he could reason with the person, or at least, buy himself enough time to yell for Snape… oh.

Sitting in the chair beside him, twirling a piece of parchment idly between his fingers, was Snape. Harry released a shaky breath and let go of the magic. It was nice to know he wouldn’t have to fight for his life. Unfortunately, he now might have to fight for something else, because why else would Snape be in his room?

“Professor?” he whispered; his voice rough with sleep as he reached for his glasses. “What are you doing in my room?”

Snape shot him a glance that seemed surprisingly soft, which could, of course, be blamed on the moonlight. “Go back to sleep, Potter.”

“Can’t. It’s creepy with you sitting there and watching me.” Shit! Did I really say that out loud? From now on I must make a resolve not to speak for at least half an hour after waking. Harry shut his eyes and waited for the verbal killing blow that Snape was sure to deliver.

It did not come. Harry opened his eyes again and stared askance at his Professor. The Professor stared back; before asking the very last question Harry would ever have expected.

“Where did you sleep at the Dursley residence?”

Harry blinked. “Oh, I had a bedroom.” Of course you had a bedroom, you dolt! All normal people sleep in bedrooms. Only creepy little nephews have to sleep in cupboards. “It was upstairs, to the right of the staircase.”

Snape nodded, as though something he had already suspected had been confirmed. “Indeed. You left your Potions essay behind.” Snape laid the parchment he had been fiddling with on the bedside table. His next words were said almost gently. “Next time don’t try to get out of writing about Austin’s second principle by simply leaving your work behind. Now, sleep. I expect to see you dressed by eight o’clock tomorrow.”

Then Snape stood, walked to the door, and left.

Harry stared after him, then at the parchment on the side table. “Oh, holy shit. He knows.”

Shadow looked blearily out from the other side of the mirror, pyjamas rumpled and dark hair tousled. ‘Busted. By Snape.’

They shared a grim look and Harry tried to stop his hands shaking. “God knows how he expects us to sleep after that.”

Shadow nodded and groaned as he buried himself deeper into the covers. ‘I’m going to pretend that conversation never happened, though I doubt that tactic will work. Night, Harry.’

“Night, Shadow.”

Both boys lay awake for a long time afterwards; staring at the ceiling and trying to think of nothing.

Harry woke early the next morning, tired and in a very black mood. Shadow didn’t seem much better, and Harry was pretty sure that he hadn’t slept any more than Harry had, or been any less worried.

The worst thing of all was that they did not know exactly what it was that Snape knew. All they knew was that he knew something. Grumbling slightly, Harry dragged himself out of bed, collected his toiletries and padded over to the bathroom, getting a slight thrill from being allowed to do so.

While he brushed his teeth, Harry watched with interest as Shadow did the same, watching Harry right back. They seemed to have a fascination with each other that would sometimes lead to them unconsciously copying the other’s movements.

Harry smiled a little. Is this what it’s like having a brother? It’s certainly the closest I’m ever going to get. Harry felt a sharp pang as he found himself wishing that Shadow could be standing there beside him, instead of constantly being separated by a pane of glass. Harry met Shadow’s eyes and knew he felt the same.

Harry ducked his head and smiled sadly. Shadow was better than nothing; that at least he knew.

Once he returned to the bedroom, Harry hit an unforeseen snag; mainly in the form of his and Shadow’s first disagreement.

‘But I want to wear the green one!’ Shadow brandished the t-shirt in question, causing Harry to look down at the blue, baggy one in his hand.

“It’s my nicest shirt; I don’t want to get it dirty this early in the holidays.”

‘Do you want to look like a ragamuffin? Don’t answer that. Of course you don’t, it’s just that you don’t have enough pride in your appearance to truly want to change that.’

Harry bristled, but Shadow held up a hand.

‘Next time you go to Diagon Alley, it’s a simple matter of sneaking out into Muggle London and going to the nearest M&S – you only need clothes that fit, after all, not the latest fashion.’

Harry stared at Shadow, hope blooming, before it was crushed the next second. “Shadow,” he said gently. “Snape’s bound to be the one to take us next time, and it’s not like he’s going to let us more than two feet away from him the whole time we’re there.”

‘Oh.’ Shadow crumpled a little, sagging onto the bed. ‘Never mind then. But can we wear the green today? Please?’

Harry laughed a little. “All right, then! Anything to keep my little brother happy.”

Shadow bristled. ‘I’m not little,’ he grumbled as he and Harry pulled the green shirt over their heads. ‘I daresay I know more than you could ever hope to remember. I’m not little!’

Harry laughed again – it truly was almost like having a real brother to tease and wind up. “Oh no? If I remember correctly you’ve only existed for, hmm…” Harry pretended to think. “Two days now. That seems pretty little to me.”

Shadow opened his mouth to retort before finally taking in Harry’s wide-eyed expression.

‘You’re teasing me!’

“Yup!”

‘You little sod,’ Shadow laughing as he chucked a shoe at the mirror. It connected with the glass and the mirror wobbled alarmingly. Harry and Shadow stared at each other, shocked.

‘Oops.’

Harry stepped forward and gently stroked the frame. “That’s it, good mirror; nice mirror. Don’t break on us or I will have to have a rather interesting chat with my Potions Professor as to why my alter-ego broke his mirror.”

Shadow took one look at Harry and cracked up. ‘You’re completely batty!’ he managed to gasp out between giggles.

Harry grinned at him. “I just thought you deserved a laugh at my expense. We’re even now. Besides, please don’t break the mirror – that really isn’t a conversation I would like to have with Snape.”

‘OK, OK, I’ll be good big brother!’ Shadow gave Harry ‘puppy eyes’ a little before smirking. ‘Now that we’ve both had our crazies for the morning, do you think you could get us dressed before Snape comes up and rips into us for not being ready?’

Harry smiled. “Sure.”

The next couple of minutes were spent getting ready and Harry used them to contemplate how Shadow was behaving. When he had first appeared in Harry’s bedroom window, he had acted exactly as Harry would have in that situation, but as time moved on, he seemed to be acting more and more as his own person.

Can someone’s personality change that quickly? Harry pondered. Of course; there’s two of us now and that’s affecting both our behaviour accordingly. Even I’m acting a little different because I know Shadow’s here. Ah! It’s so confusing! Will Shadow one day really end up as his own person, only with my memories? That thought’s both comforting and unsettling.

There was a loud knock at the door. Shadow and Harry both exchanged a look that clearly said uh oh before Harry cleared his throat and called out, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal a rather disgruntled looking Snape. “Well, come along then, Mr Potter. I haven’t got all day!”

“Yes, Professor.” Harry exchanged a last ‘look of impending doom’ with Shadow before following the end of Snape’s robes, which had just whipped around the edge of the doorframe.

Harry hurried as quickly as he dared on his weakened ankle after his fast-moving Professor. He had already admitted to himself that he was very curious about the house and unashamedly stared around as they passed multiple doors, climbed down the sturdy wooden stairs and marched down the front hall towards another door at the far end, furthest from the front door.

Snape ushered him into a long kitchen and over to the table, making sure Harry sat down and glowered at him until Harry picked up his spoon and started eating his porridge. Normally Harry didn’t mind porridge, and this was particularly good porridge, but it is rather off putting to have someone staring at you the whole time while you’re eating it.

Finally, Harry drained the last of his pumpkin juice and set his spoon in the empty bowl. I’m not sure whether to curse or bless Snape for the size of portions he gives me, he thought as he leant back and rubbed his tight tummy.

Shadow appeared as a reflection in Harry’s glasses and Harry blinked in surprise. Somehow his friend had managed to get the hang of appearing in Harry’s glasses overnight. In fact, it looked almost as if Shadow was sitting in one of the seats along the side of the table. Harry silently complimented him on that pretty amazing feat, making a note to congratulate Shadow when they were alone.

Shadow grinned and gave him the thumbs up before turning to watch Snape who was almost finished with his own porridge. Harry watched Snape too until the man glared at him. What? You’re allowed to stare at me, but I’m not allowed to stare at you? Talk about unfair!

Harry scowled at the white table cloth and waited until Snape had finished.

“I daresay you’ve even forgotten to bring your work with you. Well, Potter?”

Idiot! Harry winced. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Snape snorted. “Accio Potter’s Potions essay!” The creamy parchment shot around the open door and sailed into his hand. “Come along!”

Harry jumped up and followed along after the Potions Master; back down the hall to the front door, turning right at the foot of the stairs and opening the door directly in front of them. Harry stared around him as Snape led him through some sort of living room, admiring the decoration and furnishings. There was even a very comfortable looking red and gold couch in front of the fire. Harry stopped dead. Wait a minute. Red and gold?

“The Headmaster’s idea for a joke, I assure you.” Harry looked up, startled, to find Snape watching him. “And one does not just say no to Albus Dumbledore. Come along, Potter!”

Snape strode forward and Harry followed dazedly. Was Snape just half decent to me? Or am I being delusional? At least he’s decided not to bring up last night.

Snape opened another door that lead on from the room and ushered Harry through. Harry, still lost in his own thoughts, did not at first realise the dimensions of the room he had stepped into. When he finally collected himself enough to look around, his jaw dropped open and he froze in place.

The library could easily be called the largest room in the house. Someone – Harry didn’t know if it was Snape or another person – had taken down the ceiling that had separated the rooms above; thus creating a space two stories high that was practically crammed with books.

Even Harry – who was more interested in physical activities than sitting around reading – wanted to run to the nearest shelf and start reading the first book that came to hand. It was obvious that most of the books within the vast room were full of knowledge about magic… Harry could only imagine what a person like Hermione would feel like coming in here. As it was, he felt excited and awed by this discovery.

“Well, Mr Potter?” Harry gulped and he snapped his head around to stare at Snape. “Does my library meet with your approval?”

Harry almost sighed in relief. Though partially hidden, there was a sardonic undertone in Snape’s voice that let Harry know that the older man had been amused by his charge’s reaction.

“It’s- It’s amazing, sir,” Harry told him sincerely.

Snape eyed him for a moment before nodding. “It did take me several years to amass a collection big enough to fill the space. Rest assured, all books are up to date and pertinent. Unlike some one could find in the Hogwarts’ collection,” he grumbled, but Harry could hear the underlying pride in Snape’s voice as he spoke of his achievement.

Harry said nothing and went back to surveying the shelves, trying to conceal his surprise at how nice Snape was being to him… well, for Snape at any rate. For some reason, Harry had always expected old books full of information to be rather drab and dull, but to his surprise, the shelves were filled with tomes of all shapes, sizes, colours and, in some instances, textures. He reached out a hand towards a volume claiming itself to be ‘The 1944 Treatise of Independent Werewolf Rights’ but managed to catch himself just in time. God only knows what Snape would do if he saw me touching his precious books without his permission.

He almost jumped when he realised Snape had been watching him the whole time, and felt his face heat with humiliation.

“Come along, Potter. I want that essay finished and well-written before the start of term and that is not going to happen if you stand around gawping all day.” Snape turned with a flare of his robes and walked over to a small desk placed beside one of the long, two-storey windows that ran along the south wall of the room. Harry followed and tried to shake off the feeling that Snape was being deliberately nice to him. His words were harsh enough, but the tone – though still commanding – was something else entirely.

Harry shivered. I must be imagining it.

Harry sat in the chair Snape indicated, placed his essay on the desk, before realising he did not have any ink. He looked nervously up at Snape, who sighed deeply as though greatly put upon.

“Wait here, Potter. Do not touch anything.”

“Yes, Professor.” Snape gave him a hard look before leaving the room once more.

Harry settled back in his chair a little and surveyed the large, sturdy shelves that went all the way to the ceiling in the thirty foot high room. He studied them carefully, wanting to take in every detail so that he could remember it well enough to describe to Hermione – if Hedwig ever returned of course. Taking a quick look at the door to check that Snape wasn’t going to come back any time soon, Harry stood up and started wandering the shelves, being very careful not to touch anything.

“Hey, Shadow, look at this! ‘One Hundred and One Ways to Go Cauldron Scrumping’!” Harry laughed and shook his head at the absurdity of the Wizarding World. “Why on Earth does he have this?”

Shadow snickered and leaned forward for a closer look at the gold title – he had managed to turn around in Harry’s glasses, so he could look out like Harry did. Harry was extremely impressed with his double’s cleverness, and not a little bit proud.

What is wrong with me? He’s not a separate person – he’s me. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. But Harry’s feelings didn’t take the slightest bit of notice and he realised, too late, that some part of him had already adopted Shadow as his honorary younger brother.

‘Ha! Maybe he was short on a few cauldrons a couple of years back – possibly when Neville started blowing them up!’ That statement earned a snort from Shadow’s solid double. ‘Hey, Harry, wanna go cauldron scrumping?’

Harry blinked innocently at Shadow. “But, Shadow, the only cauldrons around here are Snape’s!”

They looked at each other and doubled over laughing.

‘Oh, just imagine it! We find his lab, you use your magic to disappear the cauldrons, and he won’t even be able to blame you! He’s confiscated your wand after all!’

“Oh! Oh! Stop, Shadow, stop! He’ll probably go into one of his mad rages; ‘It was Potter! I know it was Potter!’” Harry mimicked, starting them laughing again. “Why are we even laughing?” he asked as they both calmed down a bit.

‘Release of tension? Lack of Dursleys? Us knowing we can get one up on Snape without him figuring out how?’

“Ah. The wise one has returned.” Harry nodded sagely, holding up one hand in a ‘How’ gesture.

‘You are such a prat!’

“Uh huh. Shadow? What’s that?”

Harry pointed high, high up, to the top shelf of the nearest bookcase. Shadow turned and his gaze followed his finger to the correct shelf.

‘That? It… it looks like a box. A black box. What’s something like that doing in a library?’

“I dunno.” Harry chewed his lip and glanced towards the door again. “I’m going up.”

Shadow whirled around, eyes wide. ‘Harry, no! He could be back at any moment!’

“Calm down; there’s a ladder. I’ll be up and down there in a trice. Besides, aren’t you curious? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

‘Hiding in the bedroom along with my pride.’ Shadow chewed his bottom lip, looking very worried. ‘Snape’ll kill us!’

“Only if he catches us. Come along!”

‘I- I think I’ll stay down here.’ Shadow vanished from Harry’s glasses and re-appeared in the window.

Harry rolled his eyes at his counterpart’s stubbornness. “Like that’s going to make any difference!” He hurried over to the ladder and tried to tug it to where it would be directly below the black box. It did not move. “What the hell? What kind of person nails a library ladder to the shelves?”

‘Snape obviously.’ Harry still felt a little irritated with Shadow, but he understood why the other boy didn’t want to go up, so he turned and gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, call me if you hear anything – I may have to end up sliding down the ladder!”

Shadow nodded, so Harry gripped the bottom rungs and began to climb. His ankle ached a little every time he put his climbing weight on it, but he ignored it as best he could; knowing that he needed to reach the top as soon as possible.

Panting, he reached the top shelf and hauled himself onto it, cursing the dust up there that might end up giving him away. There was just enough space for him to crawl along the shelf, and he shuffled as quickly as possible towards the box.

Part of Harry knew that what he was doing was incredibly foolish; it was one of Snape’s private possessions after all. Unfortunately, the other part of him – the one that loved solving mysteries – was at the forefront of his mind at the moment, and he knew that unless he discovered the contents of the box, he would not be able to sleep.

I’ll only take a quick look; just one peep, and I’ll be back on the ground before you can say ‘Bob’s your uncle!’

Harry reached out to the now reachable box and pushed at the lid. The latch clicked and the hinges squeaked and then the box was open before him. Harry looked inside and discovered… another book under a thick pile of dust. What could be so important about it that it gets its own box? Frowning, Harry leaned forward further and reached out a hand to wipe the dust away, which was obscuring the title.

His fingers touched the surface of the book and started to move across it. Suddenly, Harry gasped as he realised that the book was warm and faintly pulsing under his hand.

His first gasp, however, was nowhere near as loud as the second when the book dissolved in a shower of golden light and absorbed into his skin.

Harry stared, his eyes wide and his hand shaking. Shit. Not good. Really, really not good.

‘Harry?’ came a young voice. ‘What’s happening up there?’

Harry gulped. “Err, nothing, Shadow. Nothing at all. The thing in the box was a book by the way.” Was being the operative word! “I’m coming down now!”

‘Good! Hurry – Snape will be back soon.’

Harry started edging his way backwards along the shelf, so intent on his task that he didn’t even notice when the door opened. Shadow, his eyes locked on Harry’s body, didn’t notice either.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus rummaged around in the desk in his study, grumbling quietly to himself. Drat! Why do I never keep things like this on hand? He tossed the fifteenth quill he had found over his shoulder and kept searching. I might as well have sent Potter to fetch his own!

The reason he had deemed the first fifteen quills useless wasn’t because the quills were unusable; more simply, it was because they were enchanted. Though they were not like the original self-spelling quills, they did have a nifty charm attached to them which had made them very useful to many a weary teacher.

After a misspelled word had been written, they caused the ink to change colour on the word in question, bringing the writer’s attention to it. The charm then made the letters of the word rearrange into the correct order once the writer was watching before finally returning the ink to its original colour.

Severus found them very useful and informative – especially when it was past midnight and there were still ten more essays for him to mark – but he was damned if he was going to let Potter use them. How else was the boy going to learn?

He paused for a moment in his search as he remembered the occurrences of last night. The disappearances had deeply unsettled him, and Severus had found himself jumping at the slightest noise that sounded like the ward alarm. But it was not only the idea of rogue Malfoys that was bothering him.

Severus closed his eyes and groaned as the simple, crayoned words Harry’s Room flashed before his mind. That was one thing he really did not want to think about. Unfortunately, it was the one thing that had been present in his mind for most of the time since he discovered it.

Harry’s Room – those words spoke volumes about how the child had been treated during his formative years of life. Even Severus’ father had never shut his son in a cupboard and told him it was his room, despite the other cruelties he may have visited on him as a boy. Severus found his hand trembling again and gripped the edge of the desk tightly. It was at times like these that Severus wanted nothing more to rush to the boy’s side and gather him up in his arms, whispering ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ over and over again until the child stopped hurting forever.

With the illusion of Potter’s cosseted lifestyle shattered, Severus could no longer deny the truth – though he wanted, longed to be able to. He cared about Harry Potter – the trouble, the insolence, the cheek and all. No matter how many times the boy sneered at him, glared at him or challenged him, Severus would not be able to change the fact that he would willing protect the child, even without any outside prompting.

Albus – damn the man – had already guessed this, and instead of sending Severus to the Ministry, where his duelling skills might be needed, he had sent him to fetch Harry Potter, knowing that Severus would protect the boy to his dying breath.

Severus really, really hated it when Albus was right. Not only did he get the impulse to bash his head on the table when it happened, he also knew that the twinkle in the Headmaster’s eyes would end up increasing exponentially. There’s nothing worse than discovering you’re wrong about something and having to sit in front of a man who plies you with tea and Lemon Drops, all the while wearing the ‘I told you so’ face.

Severus snarled. Stupid Albus, stupid Potter. My life would be so much easier without either of them!

Finally Severus spotted a quill that he’d purchased only recently and hadn’t had time to enchant yet. He dragged his chair over to the shelf the quill was resting on and climbed on the chair to fetch it down. Fortuitously, there was an unopened bottle of black ink beside it, and Severus was spared the task of searching for a new one.

After climbing down off the chair and crossing the door, Severus paused and stared at the handle, working up the courage and the calm persona he needed to handle the boy at the moment. It was very difficult to know how to act around Potter now that so many of Severus’ beliefs about him had been shattered.

Collecting himself, Severus strode out of the study, down the hall, through the living room, and reached out to open the library door silently. Scaring Potter was always entertaining.

Severus walked quietly into the room, and stopped. The chair Potter had been sitting in was empty. In fact, the entire library seemed empty, and there were very few places a teenage boy could hide – even one with Potter’s stature. He opened his mouth in puzzlement and closed it again.

It was then he heard the noise; a soft shuffling. Severus’ head whipped around and up, and he saw the boy for the first time; crawling backwards along the highest shelf, grey streaks of dust adorning his unruly hair. Severus stared transfixed for a fraction of a second before he felt all-consuming anger boil over from the pit of his stomach.

“Mr Potter, get down from there at once!” His voice sounded like a whip-crack and Potter flinched violently, dislodging his knees from the slippery shelf. For a second, he hung onto the shelf he had been kneeling on, legs scrambling beneath to get a purchase, before he managed to hook his feet onto the shelf below and steady himself.

Severus tried to swallow his heart, which seemed to have leapt into his throat. “Get. Down. Now!” he purred in his quietest, most dangerous tone. Potter gulped and edged his way over to the ladder, stepped onto it and carefully climbed down.

Angry at the insane stupidity of Potter’s actions, Severus strode over to the bottom of the ladder, his hands shaking with rage. As soon as Potter was within reach, Severus grabbed the scruff of his neck with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around the boy’s middle. Ignoring his startled yelp and consequent struggling, Severus lifted him bodily – high enough so his kicking feet wouldn’t touch the ground – and strode over to the couch placed in the centre of the room.

“Snape! Letmego! Snape, I’m sorry!”

Severus took no notice and sat down on the couch, hauling Potter directly over his lap and holding him down. The first smack took Potter completely by surprise and he squealed and stilled.

Satisfied that he now had the boy’s attention, Severus brought his hand down with another loud crack as he began to lecture, making sure that the smacks were repeated at regular intervals throughout. “Do not ever endanger your life in such a stupid way again. First the Stone, then the Chamber, then the Werewolf and that idiot Black, and now this! You stupid, hard-headed little boy! You are not invincible, you are not able to rectify every situation with a wave of your hand. You could have died! One of these days you are going to get yourself killed unless you stop these brainless ventures! If you ever do anything like this ever again, so help me God; I will make you wish you had never been born. Do. You. Under-Stand?” He punctuated his last syllables with even sharper slaps than he had used previously, drawing a subdued response from Potter, who had gone quiet halfway through.

Then he released the boy and Potter slid off his lap like a greased eel.

The child turned and stared up at him from the floor. His pale face was the colour of milk and Severus noticed with a detached interest that the boy had not shed a single tear. What else did those monsters do to him? Severus felt a sharp pang for having hurt the boy himself, but firmly pushed it aside. The boy needs to learn self-worth. He’s not going to learn that from words alone. Potter still hadn’t moved and was staring up at him rather like a deer in car headlights.

Severus sighed and grabbed the boy’s shoulder, purposefully ignoring how he flinched. He then spoke, keeping his tone gentle. “It is high time somebody took you in hand, Potter. Even you have to admit that you were out of control. Now listen to me, and listen closely; every life is worth something – you understand and accept this about other people, I know – but what you have to learn is that your own life is worth just as much.”

Severus reached over and lifted the boy to his feet. Still keeping his voice low and soothing, he said, “Now. Go to your room and contemplate all this in solitude. You need to draw your own conclusions.” Stepping back and drawing himself to his full height, Severus sneered and made his next words come out harsher. “And don’t even think about trying to leave it. Believe me, I will know.”

Severus didn’t bother completing the sentence – he could tell Potter had guessed the hidden threat when the boy paled even further. Severus gave him a gentle push and watched as the boy hurried out of the room on shaky legs.

Only when the door closed behind him did Severus allow his own shaky legs deposit him on the sofa. He felt ripped open; raw and vulnerable. And if this was how he felt, God only knew how the boy was feeling. Severus made a mental note to check on him later – much later. Severus needed to calm down first.

The anger and consequent outlet when he had finally realised he had had enough of Potter’s indifferent attitude towards his own personal safety while others were bending over backwards to protect him – Severus included – had made him feel both vindicated and horrified.

However, only now could the Professor realise why Potter always risked himself. The idiotic child believed himself to be totally worthless – a fact obviously hammered into him by those worthless Dursleys. If there’s anything left of them after the Malfoys are done with them, I’ll rip them to shreds and spit on the pieces! How dare they do that to any child, let alone Lily’s child. Lily was the sweetest, kindest, dearest person I have ever met and her boy had every potential to be the same and they ruined him!

Severus seethed, his hands shaking, longing to rip and rend. Slowly, he calmed a little and was able to break his thoughts out of the vicious cycle of hate. But have they ruined him? He is kind and generous and very protective towards his friends. Though he is extremely defensive to anyone who threatens him, he does not have the makings of a broken child. Rather, he fights back with pluck and courage and spirit. Maybe, if I help him, he will become the child he was meant to be. Even if that does mean he’ll start acting like ruddy James Potter reincarnate.

Severus blew out a breath and leaned back into the couch – his tense muscles making themselves known to him and his hand aching from all those hard slaps. He looked out of the window and was startled to see the sun much lower in the sky than expected. They had missed lunch all together, and it was actually closer to when some people would have afternoon tea.

Severus wasn’t sure whether or not he was surprised that Potter hadn’t bothered to sneak out of his room to get food – the alarm he had placed on the boy’s door would have told him if Potter had. Not that Severus would have blamed Potter anyway if he wished to get food – Severus might have even let him get away with it.

Sighing, the man made his way to the kitchen. Once there he quickly prepared a couple of sandwiches that would tide Potter over until dinner. After all, the boy was suffering from malnutrition; it wouldn’t do to starve him even more.

Ascending the stairs to Potter’s room, Severus felt apprehension rising within him. Once he was outside the door, he stopped and listened for a few minutes. Soft sniffles came from inside the room.

Severus slowly opened the door and entered the room, not bothering to knock as it was unlikely that Potter would have bid him entrance anyway. The sight that met his eyes made Severus’ heart jerk a little.

The boy was standing in front of a broken mirror, staring into the fragmented pieces and shivering, his thin arms wrapped tight around his torso in a kind of self-hug.

“Mr Potter.”

The boy whirled around, frantically scrubbing at his cheeks which were more than a little damp.

“I’m not hungry, sir,” the boy mumbled as he caught sight of the plate in Severus’ hand. His voice was hollow and very, very quiet.

“Nevertheless, you need to eat.” Severus set the plate on the bed and faced the boy once more, deciding to ignore the issue of the broken mirror. After all, in a world of magic, mirrors can be easily repaired, and as the mirror was enchanted to start with – preventing any of the pieces from falling out of the frame – there was little danger of either of them cutting themselves. Severus took a step towards the boy, but stopped when Potter flinched and moved back several steps.

Severus’ heart ached again. It needed to be said. It had to be said. “Mr Potter, I assure you that while I have spanked you due to an obvious infraction on your behalf, I would never treat you the way they did.”

Potter’s eyes snapped to his face and any colour that had returned to the boy’s face quickly leached from it. Potter’s arms wrapped even tighter around his small frame as he quickly spun around, turning his back on the Potions Master and leaning against one of the bed posts – as though his legs were too weak to hold him.

Perhaps they were.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no,” the child whispered, shaking his head in desperate denial and shivering from head to toe.

“Potter?” No response. “Mr Potter?” Still no response. Oh well, nothing for it. “Harry?” The boy twitched and sniffed, but did not turn around.

Severus sighed and stepped up behind the boy. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed his hand on Potter’s shoulder.

“It may seem like the end of the world,” Severus faltered, but knew he had to go on, “but I promise you that… it does get easier. It does… get better.”

Potter stopped shivering and turned a face streaked with new tears to his Professor. He looked shocked.

“You…” he started, and then faltered.

Severus looked at him solemnly. “Me. Your secret is safe. Though we will have to tell the Headmaster, I’m afraid. Once he is on our side, he will be able to find a way not to send you back to your relatives.” Severus stressed our side a little, hoping Potter would understand that he did not wish to fight him. Not anymore.

Potter gulped and nodded, but the shivering started anew again.

Very slowly, so as not to spook him, Severus reached out and placed his hand in the middle of Potter’s back, pulling the boy against his body. He kept his hand in place, not exerting any pressure, not even holding the boy against him; just resting it there.

He was beyond surprised when Potter, instead of pushing away from his greasy Potions Professor, leaned into the touch so that his head was pressed against the man’s chest and the majority of his body weight was supported by Severus. He didn’t put his arms around for a hug, just leaned there, his eyes closed and his breathing once again regular.

“You know, the majority of your work on your Potions essay was surprisingly pertinent.”

A stifled sniffle. “’Nk you,” was mumbled somewhere from within the depths of his robes.

Severus rolled his eyes and gently rubbed the hand on Potter’s back in a circle – like he did with his homesick Slytherins. “You’re a silly boy, you know that? A very silly boy. You’re perfectly safe with me, you dunderhead, no matter how much I snarl at you.”

That seemed to do the trick. Potter pulled back from him and nodded. “I know. Now,” he whispered. Then, in an even lower voice, “’Nk you.”

“Enough with your thanking! Now, I expect those sandwiches to be completely gone by the time I come to fetch you for dinner,” he hesitated slightly, “You are not confined to your room, so you may explore the Manor if you so wish it, but no more touching of my things!”

Potter gave him a watery smile. “Yeah, I doubt I could survive another walloping in one day – I’ll have to save that for tomorrow.”

Severus reached out and ran his hand through the boy’s soft hair – to get rid of the remaining dust streaks, of course. “There’s the cheeky brat I know and loathe. Off with you! And no mischief!”

Potter chewed his lip. “Actually, sir, I was wondering if I could just go back to bed for a bit. I’m kind of tired now.”

He must have worn himself out. He’s still recovering after all. “Of course. Eat those sandwiches first. I will come and fetch you for dinner.” Potter nodded and crawled into bed, only bothering to take his shoes and glasses off. Severus wiped a last dust streak from the boy’s hair and started to leave the room, pausing only to fix the mirror.

Severus stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him, trying not to think about how the glass in the mirror had bowed outwards; almost as if the mirror had been broken from the other side.

Harry slowly surfaced from a deep and dreamless sleep. He had expected to feel stressed after the high emotions from earlier in the day, but now he felt surprisingly calm.

The day had been weird from start to finish; first the book, then the… the spanking – especially the reason behind the spanking – and then Shadow.

Harry curled up tighter in his bed, eyes squeezed tight shut. There had been no sign of his doppelganger until Harry had dragged his sore, smarting bottom up to his room. At that point he had felt a little numb inside and a little shivery, but mostly OK. Back then, he had been chiefly concerned about where Shadow had disappeared to. He had wondered if the other boy was ashamed of him and had disappeared for that reason.

Harry had been temporarily cheered by the fact that Shadow was already lying on the bed on the other side of the mirror, but his mood had quickly changed after he’d seen the other boy’s face…

 Harry leant against the side of his bed, not wanting to sit down just yet, or at all.

“Shadow? Shadow?” he called softly. His voice sounded rough and scratchy even to his ears, and he winced. “Shadow, can you hear me?”

The boy on the other bed sat up slowly before turning his face to look at Harry. Dark, accusing eyes peered out from behind a curtain of hair. The pale face was streaked as liberally with tears as the hair was with dust. Harry had forgotten that anything that happened to him had a physical manifestation on Shadow as well.

Oh, Shadow.

In that moment, Harry wanted nothing more to take the other boy in his arms and whisper that everything was going to be all right. But, of course, he couldn’t. Instead, Harry settled for getting as close to his counterpart as possible. It was the first time that Shadow had shown such a powerful negative emotion – he had always seemed so strong.

Harry leaned against the mirror. “Hi.” He gently stroked a hand down Shadow’s reflection. The other boy looked away. “I’m so sorry.”

‘Sorry?’ The other boy’s voice was hollow and cold. It sent shivers down Harry’s spine. ‘Sorry, you say?’ Shadow stood up and walked towards the mirror. Harry stepped back involuntarily. The look in his double’s eyes appeared calm at first glance, but when he looked closer, it was obvious that a storm was brewing. A very big storm.

‘Let me tell you something, Harry,’ Shadow almost crooned. ‘Sorry doesn’t make things all right!’ The volume of his voice had risen with every word in his last statement until he was screaming at Harry, slightly red in the face and looking quite deranged. Harry took another couple of steps back, feeling himself starting to shake. He hated yelling. Hated, hated, hated it.

‘I trusted you! I respected you and now look what you’ve done! I warned you not to go up there. I did! But you had to go ahead with it anyway!” Harry didn’t know whether to be upset or concerned for Shadow, for as he continued shouting, more and more tears were pouring down the other boy’s face. He tried to say something, but Shadow wasn’t finished.

‘You just had to do something stupid! And now Snape hates us – really hates us! He’s going to hit us just like the Dursleys – he’s done it once, he’ll do it again; you see if he doesn’t! Because we’re worthless, worthless, worthless little FREAKS!’ Shadow collapsed against the mirror, sobbing like he’d had his heart broken. Harry felt tears spilling out of his own eyes as his heart broke for Shadow. He desperately wanted to make it all better, but he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m s-s-sorry, Sh-shadow,” he managed to stutter out between his own tears. Shadow’s face turned blank for a moment, before it twisted violently in some foreign emotion.

‘I HATE you!’ he screamed, and brought his fist smashing into the mirror. The glass shattered; remaining in place, but separating into a hundred tiny fragments and Harry saw the distorted image of Shadow turning and running. Harry heard faint whispers of, ‘Ihateyou, Ihateyou,’ fading even more the further Shadow got away from the mirror.

“Shadow? SHADOW!”

Harry had spent hours calling and crying and begging for Shadow to come back, but it was to no avail. His little brother was gone, and worse, Harry could not follow.

Shadow had been right about one thing; Harry did hate himself. It was all his fault.

Even now, Harry could not tell whether Shadow had been expressing his own opinion, or had actually been repeating Harry’s own self-hate. He just didn’t know. Neither did he know how long he had spent, calling, in front of the glass, but eventually he had fallen silent, hugging himself and sniffing occasionally. That was how Snape had found him.

After the punishment, Harry was astonished that he was still being given food. And in that moment, he had wanted to launch himself into Snape’s arms and sob out the whole story from start to finish, but he had restrained himself, knowing he had to be wary of the other man…

But he had been wrong. Snape had hugged him.

Granted, it wasn’t immediately recognised as one, but Snape had done it. He had also tried to make Harry feel better – he had cared. Harry had been quite certain that he’d never felt so safe in his life. Shadow had been wrong. Harry had been wrong. Snape was good. The evidence was right before his eyes.

Harry sighed. He rolled over and reached for his glasses, knowing that Snape would call him for dinner soon. He might as well go down and help; or, at least be present for the meal ahead of time. Harry could still feel a sharp pang for Shadow – it was the same strength as the pangs he felt for Professor Lupin and Sirius. Why do I always end up losing my family?

Harry sighed again and scrubbed his eyes. So much for the calm mood, he thought bitterly as he wiped the fresh tears away.

Surprisingly, the thought of seeing Snape again made him feel relaxed, possibly even relieved, when he had expected to be embarrassed or down right mortified at the fact that Snape had seen him at his lowest.

Harry pulled himself out of bed and shoved his feet into his shoes once again, plucking at the green T-shirt that Shadow had so wanted to wear and wondering if he could ever wear it again without bad memories.

He wandered over to the mirror and pressed a hand to its cool, fixed surface.

“Shadow? Shadow? Hey, little brother, are you still there?” No answer. “It’s OK, Shadow, I’m not angry with you, I promise. You had every right to be angry with me and I’m sorry. Please come back, I miss you.”

Harry was about to pull away from the mirror when a shadow moved near the back of the room and a soft, uncertain voice called his name.

“Hey!” Harry’s face split into a small grin. I haven’t lost him after all! “Living up to your name, I see.”

Shadow rose shakily to his feet and walked over to the mirror. ‘By all rights, you should hate me. I’m so sorry.’

“Well, I don’t and besides, it wasn’t just you acting like an idiot, it was me too. But then, big brothers are allowed to be idiots every now and then, yeah?”

Shadow gave him a wobbly smile. ‘Yeah. So, we’re OK now?’

“Definitely. You’re me, after all. I do understand.”

A worried look passed over Shadow’s face. ‘Actually, I don’t even know any more.’ His hands twisted and tugged at the T-shirt. ‘Though your reactions and my reactions are similar… we no longer act and react the same. I think… somehow me being separate from you has turned me into a different person.’

“We’ve both changed and I think it’s for the better. Besides, thanks to you we now have Snape on our side. All we need to do is now is to find and destroy Voldemort and life will be a breeze!”

Shadow smirked, his face relaxing for the first time during the conversation. ‘And the Malfoys.’

Harry hit his forehead with his palm, melodramatically lifting his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, Merlin! How could I forget about them? Quick! We must make a list of all the evil people in the world that need to be destroyed at once! Otherwise we shall never be at peace!” Harry smiled; his ridiculous behaviour was making Shadow giggle. Finally things are starting to return to normal… well, normal for me. “Come on, Shadow, let’s go and help Snape… Maybe we can change the salt and sugar shakers around when he’s not looking!”

Harry sighed in relief as he made his way downstairs with Shadow, once again, riding in his glasses.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus looked up in surprise from where he was making liver and bacon casserole when he heard the door to the kitchen open and close.

Har… Potter was standing there, looking rather uncomfortable but defiant, as though daring Severus to tell him to leave the kitchen. Severus almost chuckled before he caught himself. He frowned, very puzzled by his own behaviour. How can a spanking make you feel closer to someone? Surely it’s meant to drive people apart.

“Sir. I was wondering if you needed any help?” Severus almost rolled his eyes. How can Potter make something sound like a question and a statement at the same time?

“I trust that you know how to do potatoes and the other vegetables?” Potter nodded. “You will find everything you need on the side.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was silence as they worked for the next few minutes, aside from the bubbling of the casserole and the rhythmic chop of the knife.

“I used to make liver and bacon casserole for the Dursleys. I was their cook.” Potter smiled self-depreciatingly.

“Oh?” There wasn’t much Severus could say to that kind of statement. Luckily, Potter didn’t seem to mind nattering on his own.

“I used to put sausages in it to add a new flavour in. It always tasted really good, well, whenever I was allowed some of it, of course,” he winced slightly as he said this, but carried on, “Dudley always used to complain that the liver was icky – he’d still eat it though, if it meant I wouldn’t get it.”

Sounds like something a dog would do. Severus decided to address the less personal part of that statement. “Sausages?” he asked, his nose slightly wrinkling, and nearly winced. Merlin I sound like some inept adolescent only replying with one word answers! He couldn’t help it though – brewing always soothed him, and cooking was so similar to that that it had a similar effect.

Severus tended to use long words and complex sentences whenever something was upsetting him or making him angry – conversely, if something made him calm, he found his sentences shortening and the words sounded less like they’d been ripped out of a eighteenth century dictionary. It appeared the opposite could be said for Potter.

“Yeah, sausages.” Well, maybe not the complex word part. “Trust me, it tastes amazing and it’s easy to add them in. Here, I’ll show you.” Potter actually barged over and took the spoon he had been using to stir the casserole with right out of his hand. Instead of being incensed, Severus actually felt his mouth twitching in amusement. “OK, you go and fetch the sausages and I’ll add them in.”

Severus was tempted to do just that and let Potter figure out later what he had done when he was in ‘cooking mode’. However, appearances needed to be maintained. He drew himself to his full height, folding his arms and pulling his robes tight around him so that he looked like a single pillar of black, with only his sallow face distinguishable.

“Mr Potter,” he drawled.

Potter blinked and looked from the spoon in his hands to the imposing shape of his Professor. “Oops.” He swallowed. “Sorry. Would you like your spoon back?” The boy held out the spoon tentatively and bit his lip. It was all Severus could do not to burst out laughing.

“I will go and fetch the sausages.” He smirked at Potter’s gobsmacked face before turning and temporarily exiting the kitchen.

“Thank you, Professor! I’ll need about five!” Potter’s voice yelled after him, sounding more carefree than it had in a long time.

After dinner was over and done with – though he was still puzzled as how he managed to pick up the sugar shaker instead of the salt – Severus led Potter into the sitting room and instructed him to pick a chair to sit on. Naturally, Potter chose the red and gold couch.

Severus disappeared into the library for a moment and came out again with two books. He placed one in Potter’s lap before taking his own chair by the fire and conjuring a glass of Merlot – he was damned if he was going to miss out on his favourite wine for the third day in a row just because of Potter.

“You- you remembered!” He glanced lazily up from his own book to see Potter holding up ‘The 1944 Treatise of Independent Werewolf Rights’ with a stunned expression on his face.

“Indeed. One day you shall learn that teachers notice everything; from, say, who threw an illegal firecracker in Potions class, to why certain ingredients happened to go missing from our stores.” Severus gave Potter a level look. The boy took the hint, immediately diving behind his book and pretending to go temporarily deaf.

Severus smirked. Ah, blissful quiet.

The evening progressed peacefully as the room’s occupants settled comfortably into reading quietly. The only noises were crack and hiss of the ever-present fire and the occasional turning of a page – a much preferable way to pass the time than the activities that had occurred earlier in the day.

“Professor?”

“Hmm?” Severus didn’t even bother looking up from his book.

“Why did you out Professor Lupin to the Slytherins?” Severus looked up with a sharp glare and Potter paled a little. “Err, if you, well, don’t mind telling me, that is, sir,” he added quickly.

Severus gave him another sour look before returning his gaze to his book. “He was a danger to the students, he was far too irresponsible in forgetting to take his potion and I don’t like him. That is reason enough for me, Potter, so do not question me further. You might not like the answers you get,” he fired off rapidly before delving into his book again.

The silence was strained for another couple of minutes before Potter whispered, “Yeah, I guess it was pretty irresponsible of him.” He raised his eyes to Severus’ startled gaze. “I still miss him though. He was kind to me. He taught me how to cast a Patronus. Did you know?” Potter watched Severus with genuine curiosity, and Severus, strangely, felt compelled to answer.

“Yes, I did know. But I did not hear what its form was.”

Potter nodded and fell silent from then on. It was approaching eleven o’clock when Potter finally closed his book and laid it on the nearest table.

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

Severus looked up again in surprise, meeting Potter’s searching gaze without flinching.

“Maybe I would like to see it,” he eventually replied.

Potter smiled and nodded before turning and heading up the stairs. Severus leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly, puzzled by, but enjoying the warm feeling of well-being that had taken hold of him. Smiling a little, he stood, placed his book beside Potter’s and climbed the stairs to bed.

Strangely, the feeling of well-being was still with him by the time he rose the next morning at six o’clock. Feeling refreshed, he walked downstairs and entered the living room, prepared to put the books away that he had left out the night before.

He stopped dead. Somebody was already in his living room, sitting on the red and gold couch as though waiting for him.

Severus blinked several times, but the impossible apparition didn’t disappear, proving that it was not in fact an early morning hallucination. It turned towards him and smiled a little as Severus finally managed to find his voice.

“Headmaster? What are you doing here?”

Aeolus chirped at him, looking rather smug.

“Get out of the living room, you ruddy bird!” Severus snapped, his foul temper reasserting itself. Aeolus gave him an offended look before the young owl spread his wings and flew to Severus’ shoulder, where he settled quite comfortably.

Severus closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Why is it that whenever I gain someone’s trust, they become almost impossible to get rid of? He opened his eyes and glared at the other annoyance in the room.

“Hello, Severus,” the annoyance said.

“Albus,” Severus ground out, his eyes narrowing to slits. “You have not yet answered my question; why are you currently seated in my living room when you have spent the preceding few days doing an admirable impression of having disappeared of the face of the Earth?”

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Won’t you sit down, Severus?”

“As I am the host, aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?” he growled, but took a seat beside the Headmaster nonetheless. Aeolus tottered a little, but kept his place. Severus unconsciously reached up and stroked the downy feathers.

Albus pulled out a tin of Lemon Drops and shook them. Severus took one with a much put upon sigh and promptly fed it to Aeolus, who hooted in obvious appreciation.

“He is the only owl I’ve come across that enjoys these things,” Albus said fondly, popping a sweet in his own mouth. “He refused to give me the letter until I fed him one.”

“Indeed. I trained to do as much.” After all, what Death Eater would think to feed an owl sweets? “I hope you only fed him one. We both know what happened last time.” Severus gave him a stern look, the memory of a madly hyperactive owl still fresh within his mind. “Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, would you please kindly tell me what you have been up to these past few days while I have been at home, babysitting.”

“Come now, Severus. Surely he hasn’t been that bad?”

“Albus, the narrative if you will!”

“Of course.” Albus clasped his hands around his knees. “Minerva has informed me that you already know the reason I have been unavailable?” At Severus’ nod, he continued. “On the evening of July the thirty-first at around seven o’clock, the first hexes were fired off by men wearing black robes and white masks – Death Eaters. The Ministry, being the unprepared fools they are, were over-whelmed. The few old Order members already there sent a plea for help to me, but with this advice; the attack was uncoordinated and the people the enemy struck down seemed almost selected at random.

“It wasn’t very hard to work out that the attack was some kind of diversion on a rather grand scale. My thoughts immediately went to Harry,” Albus gave Severus a self-depreciating look, “I know he isn’t our only concern, but he is one of the most important ones. Aside from that, he is only a fourteen year old boy; he is neither ready nor prepared to be fighting Death Eaters–”

“Yet you send him off to fight the Dark Lord and Basilisks and Merlin-knows what else!” Severus broke in, unable to contain himself.

Albus gave him a stern look, but his eyes were twinkling. “Why, Severus, I did not know you cared.” Severus flushed and stared down into his lap. Aeolus gave his right ear a reassuring nibble.

“Severus,” Albus said gently, causing the younger man to lift his gaze once more. “I understand your point and I did not mean to be flippant. It has been a long couple of days.” Albus rubbed his face and stretched a little.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Albus waved his hand; batting the question away as though not important. “I thought you wished to know about why I allow young Harry into dangerous situations?” Severus fell silent and obediently waited. “It is quite simple really; I set up the incident with the Philosopher’s Stone with the full intention of being behind him every step of the way. We both know how that turned out.” Albus mouth thinned into a disapproving line. “Harry deserved the chance to know what he was facing, but when the moment came, I was elsewhere. Much to my own chagrin. However, he acquitted himself admirably – much better than I could have hoped.”

“Damn it all, Albus!” Severus shocked himself by leaping to his feet and leaning menacingly over the Headmaster. Aeolus twittered and settled on the back of the couch, having been dislodged from his perch. “He’s just a boy! No child should ever have the chance to face the Dark Lord, let alone do it twice!”

Albus stared up at him calmly. “I am well aware of that fact, Severus. Though, what you should also bear in mind is that Voldemort is going to come after him regardless of whether he is ready or not. I would prefer him to stand the greatest chance of surviving when that finally happens.”

“So you’ll just shape him into your own tool in the mean time, and that makes all right does it?” Severus took a step back and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“No.” The Headmaster’s voice was sharp. “That was never my intention.”

“Then what was?” Severus snarled, pacing to and fro.

“I have already covered that; to make sure that he is ready when the time comes that he will have to fight for his life. And come it will. Sit down, Severus.” Severus gave him an unconvinced look and perched on the edge of the couch. “I do not believe the Prophecy.”

Severus choked and fell off the couch. “What?” he spluttered, clambering up again and trying to regain his sense of dignity.

“You heard me. I had a Prophecy of my own, you know,” Albus told him ruefully while Severus tried to keep his eyes falling out of their sockets. “I took no notice of it and ended up fulfilling it anyway – Grindelwald, you know. The only thing was; though I did end up defeating him, it was not through the terms the Prophecy dictated. I think I would have remembered if there had been a yak in south Germany.” Albus chuckled a little. “The point is that Prophecies take the available true facts of whenever the events they describe will be occurring and put them together in a possible outcome. Therefore, as I am sure many people have already said, human Divination is a load of trite.”

Severus tried to find is voice, but couldn’t. Albus patted him on the arm.

“All I’m saying is that you cannot live your life as though the outcome has already been decided. That is why so many people end up with self-fulfilling Prophecies – Voldemort included – when the outcome could have been completely different.

“I… see.”

“Now, where was I? Ah yes; the Chamber of Secrets. None of the staff had any clue as to what the monster was; let alone where the Chamber could be located. I had no intention of letting Harry get involved – in fact, I tried to keep him away by telling him that help would always come to those who were loyal to me. I had actually intended to use Fawkes to rescue him, but once I discovered he was already in the Chamber, well, that plan went up in flames. No pun intended.” Albus gave Severus a long-suffering look. “Both you and Harry are very similar in the respect that you send all my neatly made plans up in smoke. Merlin only knows what you two will get up to this summer.” He raised his hands to heaven before giving Severus a shrewd look. “You don’t mind taking him for the rest of the summer?”

Severus resisted the impulse to lay his head in his hands. “No, Albus.”

“Excellent! That certainly is a weight off my mind.”

A bitter taste came to rest on Severus’ tongue. “Because those Muggles abused him? Is that what you are saying, Albus?”

Dumbledore froze and stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Abused; as in hit, belittled, neglected, mistreated, malnourished. Need I go on?” Even as he finished speaking Severus felt his gut clench. Oh God. He felt sick. Oh God. I could have almost been making a list for myself. What have I done? Oh dear Merlin, what have I done?

Before Severus could fully register the extent of his own guilt, he was startled by Albus getting to his feet and calmly walking towards the door. The air started to crackle and fizz slightly; taking on a golden hue while some of Severus’ knick-knacks began to rattle. It only took a moment for him to realise that this was Albus’ wild magic trying to assert itself. He got to his feet the second before the old man left his living room.

“A-Albus? What are you doing?”

“Oh, didn’t I say, dear boy?” Albus turned and smiled at him, and Severus froze. It was the first time in his life that Severus had not seen that cheerful smile reach his employer’s eyes. The eyes; they were cold and blue and as hard as frozen ice. Severus had a very hard time not shaking in his boots.

“No.” Severus swallowed dryly. “No, you did not.”

“Oh.” The smile widened, the eyes hardened. “I’m going to go and fetch the Dursleys. And then, I’m going to take great pleasure in pulling them into little pieces.” Albus turned abruptly and walked out the front door.

Oh dear Merlin, he means it! Severus felt his hands begin to shake. Truly means it. He felt something sharp grip his shoulder and looked up to see Aeolus sitting there. That alone gave him the strength to move forward and follow his employer. Albus angry was frightening, but Albus furious was downright terrifying. Severus could now understand why Grindelwald had handed his wand to Albus without either of them firing a single hex.

“Albus!” He hurried out of the open front door. “Albus!” He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried when the older man stopped and looked back. Severus jogged to his side, careful not to look in his eyes again.

“They’re not there, Albus. The Malfoys have them,” he mumbled to his boots.

“Ah.” Dumbledore shifted his weight. “Such a pity.” Apparently Albus could do sarcasm as well as any Slytherin. Severus still did not dare look up. If he did, he would lose all his nerve and the man who had protected him for so long would end up in Azkaban. “Severus?”

Severus did not answer. A hand came into his vision and he flinched back wildly, not certain if he was acting sensibly or irrationally.

“Severus?” Concern had bled into the cold voice, but Severus still could not look up. “Goodness!” A hand grabbed his shoulder before he could move away and another hand tilted his chin up until he had no choice but to look into a pair of worried, blue eyes. “My poor boy! I have scared you, haven’t I? Severus, I’m so sorry.”

“Not scared,” Severus snapped gruffly, but didn’t protest when an arm came around his shoulders as they walked back to the house. Was this how Harry felt yesterday? So frightened and alone? No. Please, no… Dear Merlin, I’ve done a terrible thing. I deserve no more than what the Dursleys get.

 With that thought in mind, he turned to Albus and said, “As you have… missed out on ‘disciplining’ the Dursleys…. might I suggest myself a-as an… appropriate outlet?” After all, who would miss a nasty git of an ex-Death Eater? 

“Severus, what on Earth is this about?”

“I-I spanked him when I found he had endangered his life in my own home. I was so angry, I didn’t think – I just wanted to do something that would stop him doing such stupid things. It hurt him.” Severus swallowed, trying to stop his mouth being so dry. “I even knew he’d been abused at that point. H-h-he must have been so frightened.”

“Oh, Severus.” Disappointment. That’s all there was in Albus voice. And the arm around his shoulders hadn’t moved. Severus sagged against his employer in relief. Maybe this can be fixed. Maybe I did not mess this up as badly as I thought I did.

Severus didn’t even notice that they had entered the house again until he realised Albus was pushing a glass of wine into his hands and that he was sitting on his own couch.

“Drink.”

“Albus, it’s seven thirty in the morning.”

“And you’ve had a rather nasty shock. Two, in fact. Drink.”

Severus took the glass with shaking fingers and downed the lot. The alcohol barely gave him a minute before making its effects known on his empty stomach. Slowly, his tensed muscles relaxed, and his near-panic abated a little.

“How could you, Severus?”

Severus winced. The only reason he was able to lift his gaze and look his employer in the eyes was because this was not the first time he had confessed something to the old man.

“O-on some level, I suppose I knew what I was doing.” At this point, even the familiar blue gaze became too much and Severus fixed his eyes on a spot over the other man’s shoulder. “I was so angry. I wanted to do something – anything – that would make him stop and realise how stupid he was being; again. My… my first impulse was to shake him…” Severus broke off and glanced at Albus. The old man’s gaze remained impassive. Severus looked down again. “I wanted to shake him hard enough to make his teeth rattle, but even I refuse to do something so uncontrolled to a child…” Severus found he couldn’t go on. And smacking him repeatedly was so much better, was it?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “And so you spanked him?” Severus nodded. “Did you give a reason?” Severus nodded again and unstuck his tongue.

“But it was convoluted at best and indecipherable at worst.” He dropped his head in his hands and groaned a little. “I think my justification was that he wouldn’t listen to words and so I had to find another way to make him listen. Stupid, wasn’t it?”

“A little. You meant well, but let your temper get the better of you. That is something you must never do when disciplining children… yes, he is a child, Severus,” Albus said at Severus’ surprised glance. “I understand it must be hard to see through the web both his parents wove, but he is only a young boy who needs stability as much as the next one. Now, that is something I cannot provide… but which you can.”

Severus stood up quickly and backed away from the couch, his mouth agape. “What? Albus, that’s insane! Potter would be better off anywhere but with me! In fact, I must insist you take him away at your earliest convenience. He is not safe here.”

“On the contrary; it took me nearly two hours to undo your wards enough to Apparate in – and consider this; that is the resistance they have against someone they regard as an ally! You have gone to a lot of trouble to keep him safe. And losing your temper because he disregards his own safety? That sounds more like something a parent would do, rather than someone who could not be trusted with a child.”

Severus blanched at the very idea, his face going pale, but Albus wasn’t finished. “Not only that, you live perfectly alone in this large house with far too much time on your hands over the holidays – no one else I know has those kind of assets, nor could they support the boy as well as you could. Now – I say you should keep him here for the rest of the summer and patch up whatever gap may have been made by your loss of temper. After that, I shall ask both you and Harry how you found it, and if you are both agreeable, a more permanent resolution can be made.”

Severus sat down, staring at Albus in abject disbelief. What? I harm precious Potter and all I get is a tap on the wrist? More than that – he still believes me capable to look after the boy? What’s going on? I don’t understand! Wait… the Ministry… what happened there? Could there be something even more sinister going on than Albus has already said? “Albus, what are you not telling me? What else happened at the Ministry?”

Albus sighed. “I had hoped I could distract you from that, but I shall now tell you what you wish to know. By the time I reached the Ministry, it was almost crippled. Luckily, I managed to find the group that was fighting back against the Death Eaters and aid them. It me longer than I would have liked, but we managed to drive them off eventually. The strange thing was; in the end, it was almost as if they had received a signal from someone to retreat – but none of the Death Eaters were seen to give any visible signal.

"It was only as I was following them out that I caught sight of a Death Eater in the middle of the group covering up a pale blue orb, which looked to be about a foot in diameter; maybe less. The second I saw this orb, a strange, intensely cold power flowed through me as though the thing was watching me. The only thing was – the power seemed almost afraid of me.”

Dumbledore broke off and watched Severus, as though expecting him to make the connection. It only took him a minute. “No!”

Albus watched him gravely. “Yes. It appears Voldemort is on the move once more.”

“But… but, how? Why?”

“That, I do not know the answer to, but I am very grateful I did not take you with me.”

“Why not?” Severus leapt up, his indignation on being left behind returning full force. “I could have helped you, I could have drawn their fire, given you advice on their plans of attack and how to stop them. I have far more use than just simple babysitting! Or have you finally lost faith in me after all these years?”

“I have done nothing of the sort. You also have far more use than being canon-fodder. Do not argue with me, Severus! The second you appeared on the scene, fighting for me, they would have been on you like wolves around a wounded deer. You know this as well as I do.”

“Well,” Severus grumbled, still disgruntled, but reluctantly conceding that Albus had a point. “Well, that’s as may be, but don’t pretend it was the only reason!”

“Certainly not, dear boy. I would not insult your intelligence that much,” Albus chuckled. “And for the moment, I need you here to protect Harry. As you said, you know more about Death Eater strategy than anyone else on our side. Do you mind if I strengthen your wards as well? They are mostly excellent, but slightly lacking in strength.”

“The Dark Mark,” Severus muttered, rubbing his left arm. “The drain on my power is becoming maddening.”

“Ah,” Albus’ eyes grew sad, “I suppose you have enough Firewhiskey to help with dampening its effects?”

“Mostly, but I could do with some more,” Severus said, grimacing.

“I shall fetch you some. It would be best if both you and Harry stayed inside the wards until September the first. The Ministry is in a complete and utter shambles and Voldemort could attack again at any minute.” Severus’ insides clenched again at the mention of the name. If Albus keeps this up much longer, I will end up flinching, no matter how good my reaction control is.

“But what about the boy’s supplies? He’s starting his fourth year and the books are decidedly more advanced at that level. He cannot get by without them, or without reading them before the start of term!”

Albus reached into his robes and withdrew a letter and a bowl of cereal. Severus took the letter and skimmed it over, ascertaining that it was the new school list. It took another minute before his brain caught up with his eyes. “Albus,” he said quietly, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. “Why did you have a bowl of cereal in your robes?”

“It’s your breakfast, dear boy,” Albus told him cheerfully, pushing the bowl into his hands. “I would much prefer it if you went out straight away to gather what’s on the list – less time for the Death Eaters to regroup. Maybe you can get some Firewhiskey along the way.”

Severus stared at the bowl in his hands, sneering uncertainly as though it were about to come alive. “Yes, I got that much, Albus. What I want to know is; do you regularly carry bowls of cereal, complete with milk, around in your robes?”

Albus chuckled, took another look at Severus’ face and broke out into an outright laugh. “Not at all, not at all.” Still expressing his mirth, he pulled out a small, silver object from his pocket. It looked rather like a ball point pen. “It links directly back to the Hogwarts’ House Elves – I think of what type of food I want and it appears in my hand. I cannot tell you how useful it’s been in the past couple of days. Now, do eat up, Severus. You have school supplies to fetch after all.” Albus pulled a bag of Galleons out of his pocket. “For the inconvenience I have placed on you this holiday; most of it will pay for the supplies, but there will be some left over for your own use as well.”

“Th-thank you, Albus.” Severus took the bag, a little overwhelmed and started eating his cereal as fast as he could.

“I take it you’ll be staying here to watch the boy?” he asked when he had finally swallowed the last mouthful. Aeolus immediately started sipping from the left over milk in the bowl when Severus placed it on the table, paying no attention whatsoever to the conversation between the two wizards.

“Well,” Albus fidgeted and Severus blinked in surprise. What could unsettle the great Albus Dumbledore this much? “I will be taking care of the wards, but it’s a good idea to have someone in the house as well-”

Severus nodded. It’s only sensible after all.

“-and they were in the battle with me, so it was fairly easy to bring them with me-”

Someone else is in my house? Honestly, what can I do to gain a little privacy?

“-and Harry likes them, so he shouldn’t mind too much.”

Probably the Weasleys or some such. Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to live with it. Potter does need the supplies after all.

Albus cleared his throat. “Boys, do come in, if you please.”

Severus swivelled around as the door opened, and his jaw dropped.

“No! NO! GET THEM OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Harry woke to the sound of raised voices, or, more specifically, Snape’s raised voice. He sat up in bed and stretched, trying to hear what was being said down below. He noticed Shadow had partially sit up too and smiled.

“Morning, Shadow. What’d you reckon’s got him upset this time?”

Shadow shrugged. ‘Either we go downstairs and find out, or we stay here in the nice, snuggly, warm bed and avoid getting shouted at.’ Shadow sighed and wriggled down deeper under the covers. ‘Hmm, tough decision.’

Harry laughed and curled up tighter under the duvet, wincing as his bottom smarted a little. He was not fool enough to go and challenge Snape when the man was shouting loud enough to raise the rafters. Harry was just drifting back off to sleep when he heard a new voice floating up the stairs. It wasn’t shouting, but it was loud enough to make Snape shut up. Harry sat bolt upright in bed.

“Shadow! That sounds just like Dumbledore!”

‘My God, you’re right!’

They listened for another couple of seconds before scrambling out of bed and throwing whatever came to hand on out of the trunk. Harry tried to straighten his hair by running his hand through it as he headed for the door. He knew it was a lost cause, but that didn’t stop him trying. Lucky Shadow… I wish I had straight hair.

‘Harry!’

“What?” he asked as he doubled back to look at Shadow, feeling startled at the abrupt tone his companion had used. Shadow pointed at the clothes he was wearing – which happened to be identical to Harry’s – crossed his arms and tapped his foot. Harry was baffled.

“What?”

‘I was wearing that!’ Shadow said, pointing to the floor, at a dark brown T-shirt. ‘Humour me and see what happens when you change the top.’

“What? Well, OK.” Harry pulled off the blue top, the one which they had argued over yesterday, and tugged on the brown. For one second, Harry saw Shadow standing in the mirror while still wearing the blue top, and suddenly it seemed to dissolve around him, leaving the brown shirt in its place.

‘See?’

“Wow.” Harry blinked several times.

‘Cease the goldfish impression! We can talk about it later. Now, hurry up and go! I want to see if Dumbledore’s anything like your memories of him.’

“But they’re you’re memories too!”

‘Not quite. They’re more like watching someone else’s home video – no emotive value whatsoever. Now, let’s go!’

“Hang on. Shadow?”

‘What now?’ his counterpart sighed, backing into the mirror frame once again and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Your cheek. What happened?”

‘Oh!’ Shadow looked a little sheepish as he lifted his hand up to touch the angry red scratch adorning his right cheek. He winced a little as his fingers brushed it. ‘It’s there to teach me not to lose my temper in future. It happened when I… uh… broke the mirror.’

Harry gasped and reached his hand up to touch his own, unblemished cheek. “Oh God! And Snape can’t even fix it ‘cos I don’t have one. I’m so sorry.”

Shadow shrugged and dropped his hand. ‘Not your fault.’ He was about to say something else when a new yell echoed up from below. ‘Uh, can we go and see what’s happening now? There’re more people than just Dumbledore and Snape down there!’ Not waiting for an answer, Shadow turned and shot out the frame.

“Shadow! Come back!” Harry ran to the door and yanked it open. “That’s the second time you’ve got to choose the shirt we wear,” he grumbled half-heartedly as he hurried down the short corridor to the top of the stairs. He was very relieved that his ankle seemed to be fully repaired – so much so that it didn’t even twinge when he balanced his full weight on it, stopping at the top of the stairs. He remembered the long, agonising walk from Privet Drive to where Snape had found him, and shuddered. Never again.

Harry looked down the stairs and bit his lip. There was no sign of Shadow, but the voices were still making a lot of noise down there… He crept down the stairs, craning his neck forward, as if that would help him see ahead sooner. His steps were soft and stealthy; honed from years of creeping out for food in the middle of the night. Harry was sure that there was no way his quarry had heard him, especially not with the racket they were making.

The door to the living room was open. Harry stopped a little way up the stairs from it, held his breath and listened. There really did seem to be far more people than just Dumbledore and Snape in the room…

“Now, see here, Snape, you nasty git–”

“GET OUT!”

“I’m sure we could just–”

“Children–”

“No, sodding way! I don’t want them within one hundred miles of this place!”

“Can we PLEASE–”

Unable to bear the suspense any more, Harry jumped down the last couple of steps and rounded the doorframe. He was desperate to know just who had upset Snape so much, but he was still prepared to run the second the situation looked like it would turn nasty. His resolve was forgotten as soon as he saw just who it was.

“SIRIUS!” Harry flew across the room and into his godfather’s arms; the man only just about managed to maintain enough presence of mind to catch his errant godson. The next second, he was being hugged close and whirled around by the laughing man. Harry was grinning madly, hardly able to believe his luck. To his delight, his godfather seemed to have gained a little in weight, and he was sporting an impressive tan.

At long last, the Sirius put him down and held him at arms’ length.

“Harry! It’s fantastic to see you! Here; let me look at you.” Sirius grabbed Harry’s shoulders and twirled him round. Harry stuck his arms out to the side and laughed, enjoying the attention. However, when Sirius stopped spinning him, he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Harry? You’re far too thin; much thinner than you were when I last saw you! What happened? Has that slimy bastard not been feeding you?” Sirius sneered over Harry’s shoulder, pulling Harry’s body close to his own as though shielding him.

Harry saw Snape open his mouth to deliver a cutting remark about the other man’s attitude, and he decided to intervene before the situation became heated once more.

“No, no! Sn- err… Professor Snape’s been really good to me. When I first came here, I had a broken ankle, but he completely fixed it without me even having to ask!” Harry grinned and lifted his foot a little, effectively distracting Sirius from his latest anti-Snape campaign. Unfortunately, it also directed his attention towards something Harry really didn’t want to talk about.

“Those bastards! I knew I should’ve come and given them what-for when I had the chance!”

“Erm…” Harry looked around the room, pleading for someone to get him out of this particular position. Snape’s face remained impassive, Dumbledore looked concerned, and the fourth person in the room… Harry broke into another huge grin.

“Professor Lupin!” Harry wriggled free of Sirius and trotted over to his ex-Defence teacher. “Did you get my letter?”

Lines crinkled Lupin’s eyes as he smiled. Harry was surprised to see that he also had a tan. “Yes, I did, Harry. It was most enjoyable to read – especially the part where you told me how Ron managed to defeat the Troll…”

In the background, Harry heard Snape mutter something under his breath and Dumbledore murmuring, “Now, now, Severus!” in a censoring tone. The old man seemed to be trying not to laugh.

Harry bit back a smirk of his own as he listened to Lupin gently admonishing him for his lack of self regard in the Troll situation. Now that Harry knew Snape better, he could appreciate how amusing their positions were, instead of worrying about who would be left alive at the end of the day. Snape may shout and hex and bluster to get rid of his two unwanted guests, but he wouldn’t murder them. For a start, it wouldn’t please the Headmaster.

Why are Sirius and Remus here anyway? Why is the Headmaster here? Am I going to be taken away? Harry suddenly felt strangely reluctant to leave. Though Tharabraye Manor had only been his home for a short time, it had been a much more stable one than the Dursleys… Even including the spanking – Harry could almost see the point behind that, and at least Snape had been reasonable afterwards.

“Headmaster, if you’ll excuse me…” Harry turned again to see Snape giving Dumbledore a brief, formal bow and heading towards the fireplace. “Potter!”

Harry blinked. “Yes, sir?”

“Keep those two animals in check until I get back! Lord knows what the state of the furniture will be in otherwise!” Snape grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and disappeared into the hearth shouting, “Leaky Cauldron, London!” before the two men could even get past the first syllables of their outrage.

“Bastard!” Sirius roared, storming towards the fire and viciously punching the chimney breast. “When he gets back, I’m going to make sure there’ll be nothing left of him except that greasy mop of hair!”

Harry gasped in surprise before noticing Professor Lupin’s expression. He quickly edged away from the sandy haired man, feeling a little uneasy. He had never seen his old Professor look so outraged. Though I suppose I was never around after the people who had angered him left the room… Lupin’s jaw had clenched and his face had paled in anger. Harry knew enough about people to be more wary of Lupin’s silent anger, than of Sirius’ blustering.

Still, I can’t blame them, he thought. As far as I can tell, the last time these three met, Snape was busy trying to hand them both over to the Dementors; that’s not the kind of attitude that would  promote friendly feelings.

In fact, Harry had to suppress a little of his own anger at the past injustice. Maybe I should go and vanish his cauldrons after all!

Harry turned towards Professor Dumbledore, who looked like he was still trying his hardest not to laugh. “Professor?”

Dumbledore twinkled at him. “Yes, Harry, my boy?”

“Why did Sna- Professor Snape go to Diagon Alley?”

“Oh, he went to go and fetch your school supplies. Now, if you’ll excuse me also, I shall go and work on the wards. I’m sure you three can find something to talk about in the mean time.” Dumbledore then quickly strode towards the open door. Harry stared for a second, and then rolled his eyes, chasing after him.

“Headmaster!” He reached out and caught Dumbledore’s sleeve, bringing them both to a halt. Harry was quite surprised at his own daring and stayed still for a couple of minutes, looking down at the sleeve in his hand.

Now, it was Sirius and Lupin stifling laughs. Harry cleared his throat and glared at them before turning back to the Headmaster. “Professor, why is Snape buying my stuff? Why can’t I go?” He frowned up at the old man, determined not to let go of the sleeve until he got his answers. Dumbledore seemed to realise this too, for he sighed.

“Do you remember the conversation we had about Professor Trelawney’s second true Prophecy, Harry?” he said gravely.

Harry nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“Well, there have been a few disturbances which point towards the prediction coming true sooner than I expected. Though I am sure you would have enjoyed going to Diagon Alley, the fact of the matter is; it is much safer for just Professor Snape to go and buy your things for you. On a brighter note, I intend to make sure there is much higher level of security in Hogsmeade this school year. You should still be able to go and enjoy yourself, then.”

Harry nodded. Voldemort’s coming back? Now? Harry spent a moment feeling apprehensive about his future concerning Voldemort before the reality of his current situation intruded, making his stomach swoop in anxiety. He let go of Dumbledore’s sleeve and looked towards the fire, half wishing that he could call Snape back. “I haven’t any money with me. Anything Snape pays for, he’ll have to pay for himself!” He twisted his hands in his robes, trying not to panic at the idea of not being able to pay Snape back when the man asked for it.

It was Sirius who came to his rescue. “Don’t worry, Harry,” he said as he came up and clapped his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Dumbledore already gave Snape money out of the school funds to pay for your things.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, yes. You might have noticed before that any money you used previously on your school things mysteriously reappeared in your vault. That is because James and Lily paid for a full scholarship for you before you were even born, if you remember.” Here, Dumbledore paused, for a young owl had flown over and perched on his shoulder. The old man stroked the bird a bit before letting it out the window and continuing his explanation. Harry briefly wondered whose bird it was, but he was more interested in hearing what the Headmaster had to say.

“And so, Harry, any expenses you need for Hogwarts are immediately replaced out of the school fund. Now, I really must get those wards done before Severus gets back. Good day, Harry, Sirius, Remus.”

The two older men murmured their goodbyes as the Headmaster left, but Harry could only stare after him, dumbfounded. “You mean I could have bought that Planetarium last year, after all?” he said sadly, almost to himself.

“What Planetarium, Harry?” Lupin asked as he came up behind the boy.

Harry turned and grinned. “Oh, it was awesome! I would never have had to go to another Astronomy lesson again, and if that isn’t considered educational, then I don’t know what is!”

Sirius chuckled along with Lupin and squeezed his shoulder. “Too true. I wish us Marauders had thought of something like that when we were in school! Come on, kid, show us whatever room Snape’s been keeping you in, in this dump!”

“Dump?” Harry’s eyes widened as he led them out into the hall and up the stairs. “Have you actually seen this place? It’s amazing! Have you been in the library? It’s two storeys high and absolutely stuffed with books. And Professor Lupin knows I don’t like reading all that much, but I could quite happily spend the rest of my life in that room!” Harry sighed dreamily, looking back and grinning at the two men following him, who were laughing happily at his enthusiasm.

“Yeah, right! Like Snape would let us anywhere near his library! He hoards those books like a mad dragon hoards treasure,” Sirius told him, coming up alongside Harry and slinging an arm around the boy. “I actually remember the git trying to hex us one time ‘cos we tried to nick his book! Honestly, we were only trying to check a reference and he had to get all snooty with us!”

“Be reasonable, Padfoot. We could have just as easily gone and found someone else willing to lend us a copy.”

“Well,” Sirius gave a roguish grin and Harry just had to laugh at the obvious mischief dancing in his godfather’s eyes, “truth be told, all I wanted to do was start a fight in the school library!”

Harry gasped. “You didn’t!”

“We did! It ended up with four shelves being knocked over – and you know they’re about ten foot tall – books were strewn everywhere, and everyone within a twenty foot radius was covered in purple blotches. You should have seen Pince’s face! It looked like she’d swallowed a live hornet! Remember that, Moony?”

“How could I ever forget? We did end up with detention for the rest of the school year, though.”

“And bear in mind, it wasn’t even the Christmas holidays yet when this happened! Next time you’re in the library, check out the shelves nearest the Herbology section – I think there’s still one bookcase there with hex marks from your dad, myself and Snape all in one patch.”

“It turned the wood fluorescent orange, if I remember correctly?”

“Yep. It showed up wonderfully against the dark mahogany. Ah, one the many tributes to the Snape/Marauder feud!”

Harry snorted and reached out to open the door to his room. “This is my room… erm, sorry about the mess.”

True to the form of teenage boys everywhere, the room had changed from being pristine to being covered in random clutter in the shortest space of time possible. However, Harry’s clutter was more subdued than most boys’.

“Mess? What mess?” Sirius bounded forward and leapt on the unmade bed. “When I was your age, this would’ve been freakishly tidy! Don’t know why you’ve let him put you in a room covered in Slytherin green though!” Harry grinned evilly before running over and shoving Sirius so hard that he fell off the bed and landed with a loud thump on the floor. “Ow! What was that for?”

Harry stuck his tongue out and quickly ducked behind Lupin, who was desperately trying to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

“Moony! My godson’s being mean to me!” Sirius whined, and then pouted. This only served to make the two other people in the room laugh all the harder – Lupin ending up clinging onto the wall for support. Unknown to the two men, but visible to Harry, Shadow was in mirror, hanging onto the frame and howling with laughter at the expression on Sirius’ face.

“Right, that does it!” Sirius came around the bed so quickly that Harry didn’t even have time to react before the man grabbed him. Harry found himself being whirled around for the second time that morning, and laughed in delight; both at the action and at Shadow’s shouts of ‘Go, Sirius!’ in the background. Eventually the whirling stopped and the two of them clung to each other for balance, still laughing.

Sirius grabbed him and pulled him into another fierce hug before letting go.

“Now, come here and let us tell you about what we’ve been up to since we last met.” Sirius jumped back on the bed and patted the space beside him; Harry leapt up and settled against one of the bedposts where he could see both Sirius and Shadow. “Come on, Moony. Up you come!”

Lupin looked a little apprehensive until Harry also encouraged him. “Come on, Professor! There’s room for you too.”

Lupin acquiesced and perched on the foot of the bed, smiling at Harry as he did so. “You don’t have to call me ‘Professor Lupin’ anymore if you don’t want to, Harry.”

“What should I call you instead, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know; Remus, Moony, Lupin. Whatever you feel most comfortable with.”

Harry gave him a lopsided grin. “I think I’ll let the circumstances decide on what I call you then, Professor.”

The man smiled. “Why not?”

Sirius bounced up and down on the bed a little, redirecting their attention to him. “News now! News!”

“All right, Sirius.” Lupin smiled conspiratorially at Harry. “We’ll let the youngest of our group speak first, won’t we, Harry?”

“Hey!” Harry giggled at the half-offended, half-amused look on Sirius’ face, giggling even more as the man tried to mock-glare him.

“Fine!” Sirius raised his hands to the sky. “I know when I’m beaten.

“Now, our fantastic story starts quite soon after Moony left Hogwarts. By then, I was making my way ever southwards, leading the Dementors away from Hogwarts.” Here, Sirius’ face grew stern for a minute before it relaxed once more.

Harry was relieved that his godfather seemed to be healing a little already, despite the reminders of the horrors of Azkaban. It proved his strength of character.

“Once I had drawn their attention and given them the slip again, Moony came to meet me near Portsmouth in the south of England. Around that time, I sent that little owl for the task of delivering your message.”

Sirius smiled at Harry, and Harry, feeling suddenly shy at the strong emotion in the other man’s eyes, ducked his head and blushed.

“Then, Moony and I continued on our journey southward to the wonderful sunny places of Africa and Ecuador where all Dementors fear to tread…”

“Staying out of sight of anyone who might have recognised Sirius, I might add,” Lupin muttered into his proverbial beard.

Sirius shrugged. “So, we were slumming it. Who cares? It was then – about a month after we’d left – that we got the mysterious emergency summons from Dumbledore…”

Sirius paused dramatically, but the silence was broken almost immediately by Shadow screaming, ‘What then? What happened then?’ with his eyes as wide as saucers. Harry hid a smirk at his counterpart’s enthusiasm, to which Shadow stuck his tongue out and pretended to sulk.

Lupin, apparently, had also decided the story was taking too long. “And so we left for England immediately and once there, we discovered that the Ministry was under Death Eater attack,” he said very quickly, ignoring Sirius’ shout of “Moony!”

Harry gaped. The Ministry attacked? Is that why they haven’t come to snap my wand yet? And… “What are ‘Death Eaters’?” Harry risked a glance at Shadow, who, instead of looking equally puzzled, was unexpectedly grave.

“You-Know-Who’s followers,” Sirius snarled. “I’m surprised Snape didn’t go out and join the fun.”

Harry blinked. The name calling he could stand as he did a fair bit of that himself, but Snape was a good person, despite the prickly exterior… all right, the very prickly exterior. “Sirius, that isn’t fair,” Harry said earnestly. “Snape was looking after me the whole time the fight must have been going on, and he saved me from Malfoy. If he were one of them, then he wouldn’t have hesitated in hurting me or handing me over. But, he healed me, and made sure I ate plenty. That isn’t the kind of thing a bad guy would do.”

‘Maybe he’s fattening us up?’ Harry struggled to contain a snort of laughter at Shadow’s oh-so-innocent comment. Luckily, Harry’s speech had the effect he desired; Sirius backed down, unwilling to fight with his godson.

“But, umm, Moony?” Harry cast a worried glance at Lupin. “You did manage to stop them, didn’t you?”

Lupin suddenly looked very tired. “Yes, eventually. But in the process we lost fifty people to their curses. There were more of us, but the Death Eaters were better skilled – I have a feeling we shall all have to brush up on our duelling skills before much longer.” Lupin sent a grim look at Sirius while Harry exchanged a worried one with Shadow.

Shadow was chewing his lip and trying to tug his shirt into knots. Harry gave him a look that he thought was reassuring and ran his hand down the centre of his chest, hoping Shadow would understand the meaning. The Death Eaters don’t know I have this – they don’t know how powerful I am and they don’t yet know not to mess with me.

Shadow nodded and Harry breathed a sigh of relief – at least we have each other.

‘Maybe we should cheer them up. They look a little down, now,’ Shadow told him, nodding towards the now maudlin Marauders. Lupin was leaning against a bedpost, and Sirius was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, staring down into his lap.

Harry smirked and pushed Sirius off the bed again.

“Ahh! Ow! How is that fair?”

Harry stretched out on his stomach and looked down at his rumpled godfather. “You did your best, and probably saved a lot of people’s lives. There’s no point in beating yourself up about it.”

‘Hark! He speaks true sense!’ Shadow told Sirius, nodding wisely before muttering under his breath, ‘If only he’d listen to his own advice every now and again!’

Harry ignored his counterpart, but Shadow’s words did bring to mind something he’d been wondering about. “Sirius? Moony?” Sirius looked up from dusting himself off and Lupin leaned forward, obviously concerned at Harry’s tone. “Would you…” Harry broke off and swallowed. “If I turned out to be someone else’s son, would you… still care about me? Despite the fact that I wasn’t the son of your friend?”

Sirius snorted and stood up, ruffling Harry’s hair as he went. “Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no one else’s son you could be; especially not with that hair.”

“Sirius, I mean it. It’s important to me. Do you just see James’ son when you look at me?” Harry bit his lip as his brow furrowed. What if he says yes? What’ll happen when he really does find out I’m someone else’s child?

Sirius sighed and sat down next to Harry, hemming the boy in between himself and Lupin. “You want to know what I see when I look at you?” Sirius took his chin and tipped it up so they could look each other fully in the face. “Just Harry. That’s all. You’re not James, you’re not Lily, and you never will be. We – me and Remus – will always care about you no matter who you decide to be. Isn’t that right, Moony?”

Harry twisted so that he could see Lupin’s face. The man looked sad, but he was smiling. “Wise words, Padfoot. Very wise words; and none truer that could be spoken. You’re not getting rid of us now, you should know that!”

Harry broke into a big smile, feeling a great weight lifting from his chest. He winked cheekily up and Sirius. “And if, by some weird twist of fate, I turn out to be Snape’s son, would you still love me?” Harry joked, blinking innocently.

Sirius’ face screwed up in disgust. “Urgh, that doesn’t bear thinking about.” A moment later, he looked down and winked at Harry. “But if putting up with the nasty git meant I’d get to spend time with you, it’d be worth it.” The next second, Padfoot found his lap full of Harry, while his godson squeezed his arms around Sirius’ neck as tight as possible.

Harry and his guests sat in the kitchen, enthusiastically eating the cereal that had magically appeared before them when they sat down. Harry suspected the Headmaster’s hand in this magically materialising brunch. After all, Snape hadn’t returned and probably wouldn’t for some time.

The Headmaster was still dealing with the wards. Every now and then there would be a fizz or shock of energy that would set Harry’s skin tingling. Now that he knew the new wards were mostly for his own benefit, he felt slightly embarrassed with each new surge of magic added to the Manor’s defences. He also felt a little smug. Dumbledore’s magic, though powerful, paled in comparison to Harry’s own. Harry was stunned when he thought of what he would be like once he’d trained his ability a little. He could feel that his body had almost recovered from the last use, and couldn’t wait to try a new spell. Maybe I really will vanish Snape’s cauldrons – if only to see his face – and then, when he’s searched all over for them, magic them back again!

Harry hid his smirk behind a mug of tea and looked over to his two companions. Shadow, who was once again reflected in Harry’s glasses, was watching them too. I wonder what it’s like to truly meet people you have memories of for the first time. If only he could talk to them!

Harry took another sip of tea and frowned a little. He didn’t want to risk casting two spells on Shadow even if it might be for his counterpart’s benefit – something might go horribly wrong. Something might have gone wrong the first time, and then where would Harry be? I refuse to endanger him because of my own ineptitude. If I do cast any more spells on him, I’ll be doing them a long way in the future! I’ll just have to build my skills up using less important things… like Death Eaters.

“Huh, ‘some disturbances’, indeed!”

Sirius and Lupin looked up in surprise. “What is it, Harry?” the latter asked.

“I just noticed how Dumbledore classed a Death Eater attack and the deaths of fifty people as ‘some disturbances’. I dread to think what he would call a national disaster.”

“You-Know-Who in fishnets?”

“Padfoot! If you can’t be serious then be quiet! That is not an image that I want to consider at the breakfast table, and I’m sure Harry doesn’t either. Now, Harry, as you have already noticed, our Headmaster has the gift of the understatement. I think it’s his way of dealing with things.”

Harry nodded seriously, or as seriously as a person can when there is someone in hysterics hidden in his own glasses. Harry shuddered and wondered how Shadow could find such a hideous image so amusing. He rolled his eyes and pulled his spectacles off to clean them on the hem of his shirt while trying to remember what Lupin had just said.

“Yeah, I s’pose so. Like, I don’t like to talk to anyone if I’m upset, or like Snape just gets even nastier. And… well, I don’t know about you two.” Harry looked from one to the other, expectantly, and risked putting his glasses back on. Shadow was nowhere in sight.

“He gets ridiculously polite. It’s like listening to someone’s old-fashioned butler!”

“While Padfoot just becomes even more maddeningly flippant,” Lupin said as he directed a glare at his friend. “It’s exhausting just listening to you normally, so would you please tone it down? It’s far too early in the morning to deal with you, especially after we’ve spent the better part of the night beating off psychopaths.”

“Come now, Moony, it wasn’t that bad!” Sirius leaned forward to talk to Harry, who was currently looking around the large kitchen and wondering where on earth his counterpart had got to. Harry gave up the search temporarily to listen to what Sirius had to say.

“Once the old Order got there – that’s the resistance – what happened next was essentially a siege between us and them. Dumbledore really helped turn the tide of battle later on, but truthfully, most of the time we were just sitting around because we couldn’t get to them and they couldn’t get to us. In fact…” Sirius eyes turned sly. “While we were sitting around doing nothing, Dumbledore casually brought up the fact that he suspected the attack was being used as a distraction, and because of that, he’d put you in a safe place.

“Naturally I asked where this was, and imagine my surprise when Dumbledore said that he’d put you in Tharabraye Manor! I’d come to this part of the country when I was a boy, see? And I remember this terrible, ramshackle building about three miles from the village. I was worried about you, so the next chance I got, I Apparated to the Manor.”

“So that’s where you disappeared off to. I did wonder.” Professor Lupin shook his head in disbelief.

Sirius grinned at him and continued his story. “Imagine my shock, when instead of seeing the rundown wreck I was expecting, there was nothing there at all!”

“Nothing there? But, how?” Harry was watching Sirius wide-eyed and barely noticed that Shadow had sidled back into his frames. Sirius came to see me? Why didn’t I get to see him?

“That’s what I thought, until I realised that it wouldn’t be considered a safe place unless it had substantial wards. And, sure enough, there was the slight hum of magic when I searched for it. The wards were well-built, but lacking in strength. Whoever had cast them had been worn out by casting such powerful ones over such a large area.” Here, Sirius sneered at the thought of the caster. Harry didn’t have to ask why.

“I thought I’d take down a couple of the wards, hop over, quickly say hello and hop back before anyone noticed. I was about halfway through, and had managed to make the Manor visible to my eyes, when the front door of the Manor burst open and who should come tearing out like an angel of hell, but Snape! I was so shocked I didn’t even think to Apparate!

“Of course, the second he gets to the wall, he starts waving his wand around and yelling threats. Nearly set fire to me as well, the sodding bastard! I managed to get away before I was roasted, but it was a close thing! I went straight to Albus, demanding to know why he’d let you anywhere near Snape and why on Earth he had placed you both in the Manor. Turns out Snape bought the place and did it up.” Sirius glanced around the kitchen, determined to be unimpressed by what he saw. “And then the old man has the gall to tell me off for intruding! Honestly!”

Harry was silent after Sirius’ recitation of his story and he barely heard Lupin admonishing his godfather for feeling no guilt about trespassing. That night. It must have been the night I woke up and saw Snape sitting by my bed… I thought it was weird at the time, but he must have been watching over me after repelling an unknown intruder!

No one’s ever cared about my safety that much, or at least, they haven’t shown it. Harry bit his lip, feeling bizarrely vulnerable. Does Snape really care about me? How can he? It’s all so confusing!

“Well… um… thanks for coming, anyway, Sirius.”

“No problem, kid!

“Harry, don’t encourage him! It’s bad enough that I have to retrain him now that he’s out of Azkaban.”

Harry snorted and glanced out the window, surprised to discover that all of the morning and some of the afternoon had gone already. Snape would be back soon and then both Sirius and Lupin would have to go. Harry found himself strangely ambivalent about that. True, he was having a wonderful time getting along with both of them, but in a way, he was still recovering and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the lawn with a good book. Lupin wouldn’t mind, but Sirius would never be able to sit still long enough.

Come to think of it, he really wasn’t feeling all that well now. Maybe he ought to let Lupin know…

Suddenly, it felt like steel bands were contracting around his arms. His blood fizzed and ached as if he had just cast a wandless spell of phenomenal power and his hands went numb. Harry whimpered low in his throat, barely hearing Shadow’s cry of concern before the world went black.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus scowled at the moving model of a galaxy in the shop window. Honestly! What a useless thing. Snorting in disgust, he turned away and strode up the street, grateful that he’d finished collecting the items on the Potter’s school list. He had even managed to purchase a few things for his own use. Now all he had left to buy were a few odds and ends for his owls; probably for Potter’s too, if she ever showed up.

I hope those despicable people didn’t do anything terrible to her. Potter was really attached to that owl. What was her name again?

People parted before him on the busy street like water before the bow of a ship, which cheered his flagging spirits up a little. Severus pushed open the door to the Magical Menagerie and strode inside. Most people would normally have gone to Eelops Owl Emporium, but for some reason, the proprietors did not like Severus. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that the shop emptied very quickly whenever he entered it…

The woman behind the counter of the animal shop glanced up briefly as he walked in and quickly waved him through to the back. Severus nodded to her as he passed and stepped through the door marked ‘staff only’. It was a well known fact – for the adults, at least – that the front of the shop was only there for any children who happened to wander in.

The back of the shop was off limits to anyone under seventeen and contained some of the more ‘interesting’ things one could purchase, as well as the best stock. After all, it wouldn’t do for a child to be maimed or to waste an expensive product after buying it.

A cacophony of sound met Severus’ ears as he entered. Animals of all shapes, sizes, colours, breeds and magical strength filled the large room, making it difficult for the eye to decide where to settle. Red wolves that breathed fire, creatures made entirely from electricity called Sizzles, ultraviolet sparrows which glowed with bright, unnatural light, and a display case of large, orange Puffskeins settled before one of the large, mullioned windows. There was even a single, black phoenix settled on a perch on the far end of the shop, next to the vast shelves filled with the items used for keeping these many, varied familiars.

Severus briefly glimpsed a new exhibit of creatures that had not been there the last time he had come into the shop, but he was more interested in getting what he wanted and going straight back home.

God only knows what those two heathens are up to in my house. Severus was still puzzled as to why he had let Black and Lupin stay. Of course, it wasn’t because of the joy Potter had shown at their arrival…

Loaded with owl necessities, Severus made his way towards the small counter in the corner, placed his things on it and rang the bell. His eyes flicked over to the new display, and finally, curiosity overcame his need to hurry.

He strolled over to the tank as the proprietress priced his choices. It appeared to be filled with several, brightly coloured snakes, all of which raised their heads as he approached. An electric blue one flickered its red tongue at him before curling up once again for another nap. The rest followed suit, save for a small, mint green one near the back, which continued to stare at him avidly.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“Madam, what are these creatures? Is their main distinction their unusual colours, or do they have another skill?”

“Ah, the Ophidians.” The woman bustled over to him and gestured at the tank. “They’re one of the few species of snake that has been around wizards so long that they’ve developed some magic of their own. The most common ability they have is being able to understand humans without the witch or wizard hissing in that hideous language!” She shuddered and the green snake hissed angrily. Severus blinked and stared at the creature which now appeared to be sulking. She was speaking the truth after all… Wouldn’t a snake like this be appropriate for Potter? An unusual animal for an unusual boy.

The shop owner tsk-ed irritably and Severus looked up in surprise. “Madam?”

“That one! Always causing trouble! I’ll never be able to find a home for it. It’s driving me insane and I don’t even have to look at it for most of the time!”

“How much would it be?” What? What are you doing!

“If you want it, take it. I can’t wait to get rid of the beast. Here, I’ll get you a heated box.” The woman bustled off, leaving Severus staring at the startled snake, feeling just as shocked as it looked. What has got into me?

“Well? Are you coming?” he snapped irritably, holding out his hand for the serpent to climb on. The snake seemed to consider for a minute before it slid forward and coiled around his hand. Severus jumped. The woman had said that the creature contained magic, but he hadn’t expected to actually feel it sliding underneath its scales.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “Well…” Luckily, at that point, the shop owner returned with what looked like a small, soapstone igloo. Severus raised an eyebrow. “And what, Madam, is that?”

The woman appeared inordinately pleased with herself. “This, here, is a heat box; a place for the little thing to hide and bask. Of course, being magical, Ophidians are much hardier than ordinary snakes. They can survive in most temperatures as long as they’re neither boiling nor freezing, but they still have their reptilian instincts, so…”

Severus wondered briefly if there was any way to shut the woman up now that she’d started prattling. He settled for pointedly closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. He would need all of his invective intact for use against Black.

“…And so, they can survive on any living Potions ingredients. Easy to keep and easy to look after. That’ll be eight Galleons, three Sickles all together, sir.” Severus quickly handed over the money and left the shop with both with the snake inside its temporarily sealed container and his shrunken purchases hidden in one of the many pockets of his robes. Despite the fact that there’d been no mishaps, he couldn’t wait to get home… and evict the interlopers, no matter how happy they made Potter.

The second that Severus set foot inside his Manor, he was rushed upon by Black and Lupin. Folding his arms across his chest and tried his best to look forbidding.

He was desperate to have them gone, and the fact that they looked so anxious was enough to make him nervous. Not that he showed it. Maybe they broke something. Oh, how I’d enjoy making them pay for it!

It was Lupin that spoke first. “Severus,” Stop using my first name, dammit! “Harry’s collapsed. We put him back in his bedroom, but we couldn’t rouse him, not even with magic! He was fine a second before, but then he just moaned and fell off his chair!” Lupin was wringing his hands and Black was fidgeting, but Severus hardly noticed.

Potter? Hurt? Harry’s hurt! Oh Merlin; and I left him alone! How could I? Severus eyes narrowed as he realised that he could shift the blame to someone else. “You overtaxed him, didn’t you?” he hissed in his softest voice.

Both men immediately snapped their gaze to his face and stilled, the canine in them sensing danger.

“Well, he seemed fine before…” mumbled Lupin in a pacifying tone. Severus cut him off.

“He seemed fine? He seemed fine! The boy told you he was recovering from a broken ankle, and you even commented on how abominably thin he was! But no, the great Marauders always get what they want! I daresay you didn’t even give him a chance to catch his breath.” The venom in his tone would have been strong enough to dissolve metal.

“Look,” Black snarled, enraged by the accusations, “he was fine; he said he was fine and he looked fine! This happened out of the blue with no warning signs, so how dare you accuse me of not taking good care of my godson!”

Severus stepped closer until he was invading Black’s personal space. He was a bare inch taller than Black, and he planned to use that to great effect, despite the fact that he was so angry that his hands were shaking. Some small, detached part of his mind wondered why.

“Didn’t you ever consider that the boy appeared to be fine because he did not wish to look weak to the pair of you?” Severus’ sneer increased as Black blinked in surprise. Lupin stood off to one side, forgotten for the moment. “The. Boy. Was. Abused! He is not about to go around flaunting his weaknesses! Especially not to two of the people – Merlin only knows why – he respects and likes! There was a time in which I did not think you could get any denser, Black, but you have just proven me wrong!”

Black’s face turned an interesting shade of vermillion. “Now, see here, Snivellus–”

Severus’ patience snapped. “Out! Get out of my house! You are obviously unfit to be let anywhere near the boy!”

“I’m his godfather!”

“You’re also a moron!”

“Now what is going on in here?”

The three men turned to see the Headmaster standing in the doorway, looking rather haggard. Severus managed to speak first.

“These Gentlemen have been neglecting my ward!”

“We most certainly have not!” Black even had the nerve to look indignant.

Severus whirled on him. “Enough! Get out of my house; all of you!”

“But–”

“I think that is quite enough, Sirius. We have rather overstayed our welcome. If you two would wait for me outside… Thank you.” Albus turned to his Potions Master with a concerned look on his face. “Severus? What’s happened?”

Severus ran a hand through his hair. “The second I stepped through my own front door, I was set upon by those two incompetent mutts, saying that Potter had collapsed.” He glanced up the stairs. “I’d better go and check on him.”

Albus chuckled. “It’s all right to be worried, my boy.”

“Worried? Who said I was worried?” Severus snarled.

“Oh, nobody would accuse you of that, Severus.” Albus eyes twinkled. “If only because they did not want to get on the wrong side of your razor tongue.”

Severus slumped a little, the fight going out of him. “Irritating old man.”

“So I’ve been told. Now, your wards are all finished. You should have no more problems with unwanted guests.”

“Even guests you bring?”

The Headmaster’s lips quirked into a smile. “Not even those. I take it you had no mishaps on your shopping trip?”

Severus thought briefly about the snake, but decided against saying anything and shook his head instead.

“Excellent. I shall now be on my way. Goodbye, Severus.” Severus gave a curt nod and watched as the door clicked behind the old man. He then turned and hurried up the staircase.

It was only when he closed the bedroom door behind him that he noticed that Potter’s eyes were open and watching him. Unsure of quite what to do with himself, he strode forward and settled in the chair beside the boy’s bed and simply stared at him. His legs were grateful for the rest; they had gone shaky with relief.

It was Potter who spoke first. “Did you mean what you said?”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “Which part in particular?”

“Well, everything, really.” The boy shrugged and turned on his back, gazing up at the ceiling and deliberately not looking at the Potions Master. “It’s just… when you said all that stuff… It actually seemed like you…” Potter swallowed, refusing to move his gaze from the ceiling, “cared.”

Severus stared, horrified, at the child. I only said those things to get at Black! And now he thinks that… that I… “No! Potter, it’s not like–”

Potter cut him off. “Oh. That’s all right then.” The eyes closed. “I just – y’know – wondered.”

Severus found himself speechless for the second time that day. “Hmm, indeed. Go to sleep, Potter. I shall come and check on you later on to see if you haven’t done any damage to your foolish self.” Severus stood and walked towards the door, only to stop as he heard an almost inaudible sigh from behind him. His hands fisted in his robes briefly; this child is going to kill me! “Here!”

He marched back to the bed and dumped the small, stone igloo on the side table. Potter’s eyes snapped open and he stared at the thing in surprise. “Your birthday present.” Severus throat almost closed around the words, but he managed to say them. And then he fled.

He didn’t look back, but if he had, he would have seen a small smile slowly grow into a full-blown grin on Potter’s face.

Harry waited until the door had closed before he reached for the stone object. Who’d have thought it? Professor Snape does have a heart after all! And I actually think he’s starting to like me! Now, if only I could figure out what his present is…

Harry stared done at the device in his hands to try and distract himself from the delightful fizzing in his stomach. He had never had an adult stand up for him like Snape had just done against Sirius. And wasn’t Sirius meant to be on his side, anyway? It was all a little confusing and Harry was sad to have Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore leave before he could say goodbye to them, but the fact that Snape cared largely outweighed it. Besides, he could always write to them.

Harry was brought back to himself when he heard something shift inside the soapstone object.

“Shadow, what the hell do you think’s in this thing?”

The other boy was about to answer when a small, green head stuck itself out of the igloo and said, “Me.”

Harry almost dropped the igloo. Shadow, however, had a much more productive reaction. ‘Ah, wicked! It’s a snake!’

The snake turned its head and stared at the reflective surface. “Naturally, boy-in-the-mirror.”

 “Wait a minute, you can see him?” Harry asked, his mouth agape.

The little creature slithered out onto the blanket and stared up at Harry, flickering its purple tongue at the boy. Harry could now see that its scales were an unusually bright green. Snape got me a snake? And not only that, a special snake?

“You speak?”

“Oh! Well, yeah. Snape – the man who brought you here – knows that I can talk to snakes, so he probably thought it would be a good idea to… get you for me.”

The snake dipped his head and looked back towards the mirror. “It is gratifying to finally be understood instead of only being able to understand.” It shot a sharp look at Harry. “The Ophidians have the gift of being able to understand whichever language is being used around them. I have grown weary of listening while no one is willing to lisssten.”

Shadow smiled and reached out a hand towards the Ophidian. Harry grinned and scooped the creature up, bringing it closer to the mirror and held it out for Shadow to see. His counterpart rested his hand flat against the glass as the snake flickered its tongue across the mirror. The Ophidian twisted its head to look at Harry.

“And who is this strange, flat creature? I have never seen the like.”

“That’s Shadow. Umm, neither of us really know what he is, except that he’s like a part of me that’s… gotten free.”

“I see. And you… Shadow… this boy, he is good to you?”

Shadow bobbed his head up and down and grinned. ‘Oh yeah, he’s really great. He’s just like a big brother to me.’ Shadow’s face fell. ‘I just wish I didn’t have stay stuck on the wrong side of the glass.’

Harry leant closer to his twin, hoping to give comfort just by his presence. The snake looked interested. “We do not always get that which we wish for in this life. But… he is good to you?” Shadow nodded. “Then I shall ssstay.”

Harry and Shadow grinned. “That’s great! I’m Harry, by the way. What your name?”

“I have none.” The snake ducked his head a little. “I am somewhat of an outcassst even among my own people, and humans seem to want to avoid me… Until your Snape today, that is.” The snake’s tongue flicked out again.

Harry thought of the way he and the other students had treated Snape at school, and then he thought of his old life of the Dursleys’. A wry smile touched his lips. “I guess you could say we are outcasts ourselves.” He held his snake up to eyelevel. “Now, what should we call you?”

‘Salem.’

Harry blinked and turned towards Shadow. “Why?”

‘'Salem' means peace; just like ‘Hedwig’ means strife. I just thought maybe we should turn over a new leaf this coming school year.  Besides, we’ve had plenty of strife; now maybe we’ll be able to have some peace.’

Harry grinned. “Yeah, especially if Snape has something to do with it.” He looked down at the little, green creature that had curled up in his hands. “Salem it is, then.”

A sleepy hiss rose up from his hands, “Soundsss good to me.”

Harry gently tipped Salem back into his igloo and set it on the bedside table once more. “How’d you suppose he could see you?”

Shadow shrugged. ‘Animal intuition, probably. They see loads of things that humans refuse to see. Like Wormtail,’ Shadow shuddered, ‘ever since he betrayed our Mum and James, Mum’s owl wouldn’t go near him; attacked him every time he got too close. If only they had worked out the warning signals…’

Harry frowned. “Yeah, like we should have listened to Crookshanks. Mum had an owl?”

‘Yeah.’ Shadow smiled wanly. ‘Big barn owl called Ludwig. She had a Beethoven obsession,’ he explained at Harry’s look of confusion.

“Hey! Hedwig – Ludwig – I guess I know where I got the idea for my owl’s name from.”

Shadow’s eyes widened and he stared over Harry’s shoulder. ‘Speak of the devil.’

Harry whirled around. “Hedwig!” He hurried over to the window and flung it open, grinning at his snowy owl sitting in the tree just outside. “Hey, Girl, it’s great to see you.” He pointed to the envelope hanging from one of her legs. “Is that for me, then?”

Hedwig hooted tiredly and hopped closer along the branch, but did not take off. Harry frowned. “Tired, Girl? Here; I think I can reach you.” Harry leaned out of the window, but came up short. “Hang on.” He stuck a leg out of the window, then another before carefully dropping down onto the porch roof below, ignoring Shadow’s shout of ‘Careful, Harry!’

“Here, Girl, down you come!” Hedwig hooted gratefully and hopped onto his arm and he spent several minutes tenderly stroking her feathers. He had missed her terribly. “OK, if you go rooting through my trunk a little, you’ll find your owl treats next to the inkpots. I’ll be in to get you some water in a minute.” Harry stretched up on his tiptoes and set her on the windowsill. She hopped out of sight immediately and Harry was immediately faced with a dilemma that he hadn’t thought of.

Standing on his tiptoes, he could easily wrap his hands around the windowsill of his room, but his nutrition-starved weeks at the Dursleys, coupled with his recent recovery from his injuries, had left him much weaker than he thought. He did not have the strength to pull himself back up.

Harry gulped, staring at the sill above him and feeling panic starting to kindle in his belly. He glanced at the ground, and then at the tree. Both were out of reach. He was stranded.

Oh God, what am I going to do? I’m stuck! And Snape said he was coming back later on! Oh, oh, he’ll punish me for sure for this one. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? I’m stuck and I don’t want to be hit again!

Desperately, Harry scrabbled at the brickwork, careless that the rough stone was scraping his hands and knees raw. I have to get back in!

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus stared at library door. Damn mutt!

It appeared that Black had glued his door shut.

I knew I should have evicted that creature the second I saw he’d set foot in my house! This is the folly that comes of sentimentality. Six spells and a lot of frustration later, the door finally opened and Severus wandered away to nurse his headache. Thank goodness the day’s almost over. I’ve had enough.

A low whistle sounded in his head, making him swear and press his hands over his ears. The wards! But wait… that’s the wrong frequency. What else did I put an alarm on? Potter’s room! No, I took that one off… Severus looked up in the direction of the sitting room door, his scowl growing with every second that the alarm went on. But not the one on his windows! What the hell is that little monster up to now?

Severus took the stairs three at a time, his temper becoming greater the higher he went, and by the time he had reached Potter’s room, he was positively fuming. The door slammed open without him even having to touch it, and he felt the draining effects of his wandless magic immediately, but he ignored it in favour of striding over to the wide open window.

Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, Severus leaned over the sill and looked around for the boy.

Potter was sitting directly below, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, it was immediately apparent that something was wrong. He leaned further out the window to get a better look. Potter was rocking back and forth again and again, softly whispering something that sounded like “I’msorryI’msorry,” over and over. Severus’ ire cooled and confusion took its place.

Frowning, Severus carefully climbed over the sill and dropped down beside the boy. Potter went completely still as Severus sat down beside him, mindful of the sloping roof.

“Potter, would you care to tell me what in Merlin’s name you are doing down here?” Severus asked coldly. The boy squeaked and tried to scramble away, only to be stopped by Severus’ pincer like grip on his arm. “What were you doing, boy!”

“No! No! No! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry! I just tried to reach Hedwig and couldn’t and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I’ll be good, I promise! I’msorry!” Potter’s voice had taken on a high, hysterical quality. In fact, Severus had a hard time understanding what he was saying because the words were said so quickly. However, he had no difficulty understanding the next words at all.

“Please don’t hit me!”

Severus’ breath caught in his throat and his arms shook slightly. And then the words came again, only this time, Potter’s bright green eyes were staring right at him.

“Please don’t hit me again!”

Tears trembled in the corners of Potter’s eyes. White teeth bit his already much bitten lip. And Severus had a very hard time keeping his own emotions regarding the situation locked away. It would not help the boy now.

You reap that which you sow, Severus Snape. “Potter,” he murmured, keeping his voice as low and calm as he could. Potter’s head came up a little and his body uncurled slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not now, not ever. That… that time was a grievous mistake on my part and… and I’m sorry.” Severus let his arm drop and he stared into his lap, unable to bear the damage he’d caused this child.

A warm body settled against his own and he looked up in surprise as Harry leant on him. “S’OK, Professor. I’m sorry too.” The thin arms slid around Severus’ waist and stayed there. “Thank you for my snake. I called him Salem.” Harry turned his face into the Professor’s chest and sniffled a little.

Stunned by the boy’s easy forgiveness and even more shocked by the little arms curled around him, Severus looked down and ran his hand through the addictively soft hair. How can this child even stand to be near me after what I’ve done to him? I suppose the least I could do is show the same consideration to him. Severus tentatively wrapped his arm around the small form and almost started as the child sighed in contentment. “Salem? I daresay we could all do with a little peace.”

“Yeah.” Green eyes turned up and studied his face. “I’m sorry I’m so much trouble. I know I’m a burden, I try not to be, but…” Harry’s eyes widened as Severus pressed a finger against his lips.

“You are not a burden, especially not to me. Remember that, Harry.” Severus blinked. “Err, Potter. If I did not want you here, you would not be here; just like Black and his sickeningly amiable sidekick.” To Severus’ surprise, Harry actually smiled at that.

“Yeah, I guess they can be a bit much sometimes.”

“Potter, have you even listened to a word I’ve said?” Harry nodded quickly. “Repeat it to me then.”

“Umm, I…” Harry faltered and then went on. “If… you didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be here.” Severus nodded and waited for him to go on. “You… well, you… I’m not a burden. And… and,” Harry looked up from under his lashes, “you called me Harry.”

Damn! I knew I wouldn’t get away with that slip! “Indeed, now repeat the first two for me again. Repeat them until you believe them.”

Harry turned and gave him a very confused look.

“Potter! Do as you’re told!”

“You, well, you want me here, and… I’m not a burden.”

“Good, again.”

“But wh–”

“Potter, again.”

“You want me here and I’m not a burden.”

“Good, again.”

“You… you want m-me h-here and- and I’m not a b-b-burden.” Harry turned his face into Severus’ chest and stifled a wracking sob. Severus tightened his hold on the boy and mouthed, “Finally!” to the heavens.

“I-I’m really not?”

“No, Potter, you’re really not. Now, up you get and back into your room with you.” Severus pulled Harry to his feet and rolled his eyes at the blood staining his hands. “Haven’t you ever heard of self-preservation, Potter?” he asked as he healed the grazed skin with a flick of his wand.

“Um, well, I wasn’t thinking of that at the time…”

“Yes, and no doubt it was partially my fault as well… mostly my fault.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, sir.”

“You, Mr Potter, are a child. You do not get to decide with whom the blame resides.”

“That’s not– Hey!” Severus had grabbed him around the waist and had lifted him up to the window’s level.

“Grab the sill... that’s it, there.” Severus pushed the boy through and then hauled himself up and over. I suppose this is the moment that I bless all those years of lifting heavy cauldrons. This would have been rather embarrassing otherwise. The things that I do for this Potter!

“Now, Mr Potter, now we have that cleared up, why were you outside in the first place?” Severus put on his sternest face, hoping that it wouldn’t upset Harry too much, but determined that the boy would understand that what he had done was wrong.

“Well, um, Hedwig came back and she was really tired, so I went to fetch her, only I couldn’t reach so I had to climb out and then I couldn’t climb back… in,” Harry said; very quickly and without pause for breath. Severus resisted the urge to walk out of the room in frustration.

“Potter.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Have I or have I not already covered the fact that you are not to put your life in danger?”

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed. Now, understand me that the only reason I am not punishing you this time is because you are still unwell and have already collapsed once today. I am not about to exacerbate that by pushing you further than you might be ready for. Is that understood?”

Harry’s eyes were wide. “Yessir.”

“Good, now sleep. If you have not awakened by seven o’clock, I will come and fetch you for supper.” Severus flicked his wand and Harry’s clothes morphed into pyjamas. The boy looked down and groaned. “None of that. Bed, now!”

“All I seem to do is sleep these days!” Harry grumbled as he wriggled under the covers.

“On the contrary, from my point of view, all you seem to do is cause trouble.”

Harry’s eyes immediately became worried. “Sir…”

“Now, none of that. What did I say earlier?”

“That you want me here and I’m not a burden.”

“Exactly. Now, sleep.”

Harry closed his eyes, only to have them pop open a second later. “Oh, sir? Could you possibly get some water for my owl?”

Severus sighed. “Yes, Potter.”

He moved to the open trunk, upon which a very sleepy, snowy owl rested. Severus felt very relieved that she was all right and that she hadn’t fallen afoul of the Dursleys’ cruelty. He reached out and stroked her downy feathers a couple of times. She really was a beauty.

He quickly rifled through the trunk, paying no heed to its contents and pulled out the shrunken owl cage. He set it on the chest of drawers to the left of the window and re-sized it, careful to refill the water bowl as he went.

“Come along then,” he said and held his arm out to the snowy – Hedwig – he remembered. She clicked her beak, but hopped up when prompted further. Severus transferred her to the cage, where she took a couple of sips of water and then put her head under her wing. Gently, so as not to disturb her, Severus pulled the manila envelope off her leg.

Severus turned around to find Harry watching him. “There, your owl is dealt with.” He walked around the bed, with Harry’s eyes following him the whole way and placed the letter on the bedside table. “Go to sleep, for Merlin’s sake!”

“M’kay.” The boy’s eyes drifted closed and Severus gave into the impulse to run his hand through Harry’s hair. Harry sighed and his breathing evened out. Severus pulled his hand away, but not before he noticed a small, brown tuft of hair behind the child’s left ear. Severus wondered what it meant.

Harry woke after only an hour of rest, feeling refreshed and relieved. He lay for a long while, simply staring at the canopy and smiling. Snape cared. To Snape, Harry mattered. No matter how much the man denied it, Harry was now important to him and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

‘Are you awake or what?’

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I’m awake.” He lifted his head. “And so are you!”

Shadow rolled his eyes. ‘Something’s got you in a good mood. I take it Snape didn’t go off the deep end this time?’

“Oh. Oh!” Harry sat bolt upright. “Shadow, I’m sorry. I got us into trouble again without even taking any notice of what you had to say. I’m sorry!” Harry’s brow crinkled in worry.

‘Calm down! Yes, I wasn’t happy about it at the time, but it all turned out all right in the end, yes?’

Harry relaxed. “Yeah.”

‘So what did Snape say to you?’

“He, well, he apologised for the spanking – said it’d never happen again.” Shadow pantomimed wiping sweat off his brow and Harry chuckled. “And then, he said the best thing of all – he said that I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want me here, and that, to him, I wasn’t a burden and he called me Harry! He hugged me too, though I’d bet he’d deny it!”

Shadow smiled at Harry’s enthusiasm, but he did look a bit jealous.

“Shadow, you know he would do the same to you if he knew you were here; he’d like you too. In fact, I think he’d like you a whole lot better! You’re much more sensible than I am, and you use big words like he does too!”

Shadow’s smile grew a bit larger. ‘OK. I suppose so. It’s just… I can’t help being jealous, no one can talk to me except you and Salem and absolutely no one can give me a hug…’ Shadow’s voice trailed off and his eyes seemed suspiciously wet.

“Oh, Shadow.” Harry leaned forward, ignoring the stinging in his own eyes in the hopes of comforting the boy who’d become his younger brother. “One day, I swear, one day, once I’ve trained up my magic really well, I’ll find a way to get you out of there! I promise!”

Shadow sniffed. ‘Promise?’

“On my honour as a wizard.”

Shadow grinned and swiped his nose with his pyjama sleeve. ‘Show me then!’

“Show you what?”

‘Your magic! What else? I bet you’ll have recharged by now. Show me, I want to see, please!’ Shadow bounced on the bed a little, reminding Harry of Sirius.

“Oh, yeah! I completely forgot that I might be able to use it again!” Harry rolled up his sleeves and prepared to reach ‘inside’ himself.

‘How could you forget something like that? You idiot! Would you forget your own head if it wasn’t screwed on?’

Harry grinned. “Probably. Now, hush. I can do this bit a lot quicker now, but I still need quiet.”

Harry concentrated and reached down deep, until his mind was completely entrenched within his magical core. He revelled in the feeling for a second before snatching a single coil of molten gold and leaping back to the surface of his consciousness. “Right here goes!”

Harry started to pull the thread through into the physical realm, but was stopped by a sudden, squeezing pain in his forearms. He gasped, and his eyes snapped open, staring down at his wrists as they were enveloped by the same terrible pain from earlier. Harry whimpered as the feeling started to pulse, and gasped as both of his forearms turned the same molten gold as his magic. Both the pain and the fizzing of the magic grew until he thought he could hardly bear it, but this time he did not pass out…

Suddenly, the magic’s pulse overcame that of the pain and a weird, golden mist flowed out from his fingertips and onto the bed, twisting, roiling and finally firming into a solid shape. The shape of a book.

All at once, the pain and the magic vanished, leaving Harry staring at the old tome resting on his bed; magically drained, but mentally buzzing. He reached out and stroked the soft, leather binding of the book.

“Guess I forgot about this too,” he whispered, softly.

‘Um, Harry? What the hell just happened?’

Harry looked up into Shadow’s worried face. Thinking back to the first time that he saw the book, Harry felt very guilty. “Oh… I, this was the book in the box, Shadow. I didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t tell you it had absorbed into my skin…”

‘Idiot, idiot, idiot! Do you have any idea how many curse books use that method and then kill the carrier on the way out? You fool! You could have died! And then who would I have? No one; no one at all!’ Shadow closed his eyes as though forcing back tears.

“Shadow!” Harry leapt out of bed and ran to the mirror, leaning against it and stroking his hand softly down where one of the other boy’s cheeks would have been had there been no mirror between them. “I’m sorry, really, I am. I’m here now, don’t worry. I understand, I promise, really, I do! I won’t leave you alone, even if I end up dying and have to come back as a ghost, I won’t leave you alone!”

Shadow sniffed and rubbed a palm across his cheek, wincing as salt was smeared into his new cut. ‘Thanks, Harry. That means a lot. Thanks.’

“S’OK, little brother. As if I’d leave you alone!”

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ Shadow sniffed a final time and straightened. ‘So since the damn book’s not killed you, you might as well find out what’s in it.’

“OK.” Harry snagged the book and brought it back to the mirror for Shadow to read as well. “Ahem. The Ancient and Noble Line of Prince. Wow, sounds deep. What do you reckon this is about?”

Shadow frowned. ‘Sounds like an Inheritance book. Old, pure-blooded families have them; it’s basically a book detailing the history, practices and bloodlines of the family it concerns. Oh! And the spells and potions they’ve discovered too. It’s something that’s given to all the young heirs when they come of age, so that they can know their heritage.’ Shadow’s frown deepened until he looked positively surly. ‘It’s a good thing that you passed this family’s – the Prince’s – initiation test.’

“Initiation test?”

‘Oh, you know; something that will stop just anyone from reading the book. I even heard that there was one where you couldn’t open it unless you could whittle a wooden flute.’

“What happens if you don’t pass the test?”

‘Disfigurement usually. And most of the time, it’s almost impossible to get rid of.’

Harry shuddered. “Thank goodness I passed it. I wonder what it was…”

‘It probably says in the foreword. Come on! Read it!’

“OK, I’m reading!” Harry chuckled and flipped open the first page. A seated, silver dragon stared back at him; its head was raised and an intricate golden crown was secured in place halfway down its neck.

‘The Prince Family emblem,’ Shadow breathed. ‘Whoever the Princes are, they’re either a very old family, or an extremely talented one. Only the best families get magical creatures for their emblems, and hardly any would qualify for something as powerful as a dragon! Not even the Malfoys get that!’

Harry glanced up from the dragon, who’s painted, black eyes seemed to be glittering with intelligence, and looked at Shadow. He was fascinated by this topic already and he hadn’t even turned the next page. “What do the Malfoys have then?”

‘Pegasus, I think. An emblem to proud of, but nowhere near in the same league as a dragon! The crown is also a symbol to be proud of, though more families have those. It means that the family line is still strong in magic. One of the worst things that pure-bloods consider happening is to one day check their family emblem and find the crown broken. It’s very hard to fix once it is, and that’s how most of the really old families ended up dying out.’

“Wow.” Harry gently stroked the dragon and his kingly collar once more. “So the Princes still exist, then?”

‘Yeah, otherwise, the crown would be lying shattering at the dragon’s feet, or not there at all.’

“Wow.” Harry regretfully turned the page. “Well, here we are; Foreword.” Harry cleared his throat.

“Congratulations on passing the Prince Family Initiation Test. This book was created at the time when the original twelve great Wizarding Families came together in the hopes that their actions would be forever preserved in the pages of the books of Inheritance. These families were; Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Prince, Weasley – wow, Ron’s family’s on here! Wait ‘til I tell him! – Black – and Sirius! – Lincoln, Daria, West, Dumbledore and Phrith. No Malfoys – hah! That must be sore for them!”

‘Read on!’

“I’m getting there. The last of these great lines, of course, belongs to the great Merlin himself. Phrith? Merlin Phrith? What kind of name is that?”

‘Obviously why people only know him as ‘Merlin’!’

“Yeah, hah! Now, where was I? This particular book follows the Prince family line through the ages, recording their achievements, failures and triumphs, until such time as the crown shall be broken. Only those with the blood of the Ancient and Noble Line of Prince can take ahold of this revered tome without risking the deformity cast upon those unworthy to read its pages. Noble Heir of the Prince Line, you shall now discover your heritage.” 

Harry stopped reading and stared unseeing at the pages for many minutes. It was suddenly nearly impossible for him to swallow. “Shadow? Does that mean… what I think it means?”

‘If you think it means that only people who are born of the Prince Line can even touch the book, then yes, I think it means exactly what you think it means.’ Shadow swallowed as though his throat was dry too. ‘If you’re also thinking that we’ve just accidently stumbled across our father’s family, then yes, that too.’

“But- but how do we go about finding him?” Even as Harry asked, he felt a sickening swooping sensation in his stomach. He stared at the book, feeling more miserable than he thought possible as he remembered a strong arm around him, holding him safe, kind words murmured in that soft, gruff voice, making him matter.

So that’s it, Harry thought dejectedly. That’s why finding out my true father’s identity seemed to become less and less significant as the days went by…

‘Harry? Harry!’

“Hmm, what?” Harry jerked in surprise. “What is it, Shadow?”

‘I was saying; there’s always a family tree in the back of these books! Check, Harry, check, please!’

“OK.” Feeling as though he was walking to the gallows, Harry flipped to the back of the book. How selfish am I to think that if I can’t have Snape as my dad, I don’t want anyone at all? When did this happen? When did I start feeling like this? And why Snape? Because he was the first person to truly care about what happened to me for the first time in years? Ah, useless now, isn’t it? For Shadow… I’ll do this for Shadow. He deserves that much.

Harry turned to the last page and tried to forget how he would have simply thrown the book away if he had been on his own, would have made sure he’d never known…

 Would have tried to stay with Snape. 

Harry stared down at the whole double page that was almost completely inked in by tiny, black squiggles. Whenever he focused on a certain point, the names would enlarge and become readable. He ran his eye down the page to the bottom.

Aloysius Prince and Serinta Prince, Septimus Prince and Alana Prince, Eileen… wait a minute, the name’s changed! Harry’s stared in disbelief, but those five, little letters didn’t suddenly change back into ‘Prince’. Eileen and Tobias, and their son… Harry gulped, tears stinging his eyes and he wasn’t sure whether to burst out into hysterical laughter, hysterical weeping or both.

Harry looked down at the last name on the page; Harry James Potter, then up to the boy’s mother; Lily Evans Potter, and finally, all the while praying that the name would not change, to the boy’s father; Severus Aramis Snape.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Surprisingly, Harry’s first thought was Oh God, what am I going to tell the Professor?

His second was slightly more rational; how the hell did that happen?

Harry sighed and massaged his temples. He was sitting on the floor beside the full length mirror with the book still open on his lap. Shadow was sitting as close as he could get to Harry, reading the name of their biological father once more.

‘I suppose it makes sense.’

“How?” Harry threw his hands up in the air. “How on Earth could something like that make sense?”

‘Well, apparently, Snape was friends with our mum before she married James… They used to have a couple of rows about it and Mum was always very sad afterwards. It was during one of those times that she told us… you, that James wasn’t our real father, she didn’t dare say who though. I wish she had.’

“Yeah… me too.” Harry sighed and stroked the page, uncertain as to what he was supposed to do now. How do you tell your teacher that they’re really your birth father? I guess he’d know how it happened… Harry’s gentling stroking fingers turned into a fist, which he slammed into the page of the book in pure frustration. What the hell am I supposed to do? Why must I deal with this? Why is it always just me?

‘Harry?’

Shadow. I have Shadow! How could I forget? For the first time in my life, I don’t have to do this alone. “Yes, Shadow?”

‘We’ll be OK, I promise.’ As if to second Shadow’s statement, Hedwig raised her head from under her wing and hooted softly. Harry shut the book with a final thud.

“Go back to the box you came from!” he told it firmly, re-capturing the strand of energy from earlier and feeding a little bit of it through his fingers and into the book. The tome vanished. Harry was uncertain how he could feel proud about his strong magical heritage and bitter about it at the same time. What wrong with me? Aren’t I supposed to be happy because of this? It’s just… fantasising about having Snape as my father is one thing… actually having him, well it creates a whole set of new problems.

“It’s easier to do it that way.”

‘Sorry?’

“The magic. It’s easier to just let the bit out of me that I want to use instead of pulling the whole strand out.”

Shadow looked at his brother with solemn eyes. ‘It’s going to be all right, Harry.’

“Is it?”

‘Yeah. We’ll make it that way.’

“Uh huh.” Harry reached out a hand and snapped, “Come!” The letter on his bedside table immediately whizzed into his grip and Harry’s waxen face stretched into a smile, despite the increasing fatigue that the use of magic caused. Maybe it will be all right, after all. I don’t have to even tell Snape until I’m ready. Yes, I’ll do this at my own pace.

‘That’s Hermione’s writing!’

Harry grinned; glad for the distraction. “Sure is! Here; I’ll read it to you.” He quickly ripped open the envelope and unfolded the parchment.

 “Dear Harry, I hope you’re doing well on your summer assignments…” Harry and Shadow exchanged a glance, “and that you’re not finding them too difficult. I’ve already had mine done for over a week now... What a surprise… but unfortunately that means that I have to help Ron with his. You see, my parents and I are staying at the Burrow! I think Mum and Dad are as fascinated by the Weasleys as Mr Weasley is by them; they’re all getting along like a house on fire. The reason we’re staying here, as I’m sure you’ve already been informed, is because of the attack at the Ministry. Isn’t it awful? All those people!

“All the Muggleborn families have been put into hiding, and Dumbledore said that you’d been secreted away too. I do hope you’re all right – we were all terribly upset that you couldn’t come to stay. And you’re probably missing us as much as we’re missing you. Don’t worry; less than a month to go before we’re going back to Hogwarts. We’ll be Fourth Years then, isn’t it amazing? And there’s still so much that we don’t know! Ron doesn’t seem to be too happy about this fact. 

“Anyway, we’re all thinking of you and I can’t wait to see you at King’s Cross! Please write back soon, we’d love to hear from you, especially to hear if you’re all right! Hermione.” Harry’s smile was no longer forced as he relaxed bonelessly against the wall. He kept forgetting how terribly he missed his friends; especially their innate ability to cheer him up and restore his self-confidence.

‘That’s Hermione all over! I can’t wait to meet her.’

“Yeah. Do you want me to tell her about you?”

Shadow frowned, and then shook his head. ‘No, not yet. Not until you can tell her in person. She might end up thinking I’m the result of a Dark curse or something.’

“OK. I can’t wait until they find out about you; I know I’ll have to act as translator between you and them, but I’m sure they’ll love you!”

Harry couldn’t see Shadow’s face too well, but he thought he might be blushing.

‘Look! Something else fell out the envelope!’

Harry scooped up the scrap of parchment off the floor and studied it. “Oh, wow! It’s from Ron! Hey Harry! It’s really rubbish that I won’t be able to see you this summer; I was going to invite you to the Quidditch World Cup! Wouldn’t that have been awesome? Oh well, they postponed it ‘til next year, anyway. At least you’re away from those awful Muggles now; even if you can’t spend the summer with us, at least you’re not with them. See you at King’s Cross! Ron. P.S. Hermione’s nagging me about my homework. Honestly, girls, eh? This is brilliant – quill, ink and parchment!”

The necessary items flew over to where Harry was sitting and clunked softly down beside him.

‘Uh, Harry?’

“Hmm?”

‘Have you noticed that you’ve just done more magic?’

“Oh?” Harry looked down at the things beside him. “Oh yeah! I think the ‘little and lots’ method is working the best at the moment.”

‘As compared to ‘boom and bust’?’

“You said it! Hmm, I don’t think I should mention who I’m staying with; they went to so much trouble over the wards and everything…” Harry reached out for his quill and started to write, occasionally stopping to ask Shadow’s opinion on what he should write. Hedwig and Salem came over to see what the fuss was about; Hedwig perching on Harry’s knee and Salem sitting on Harry’s shoulder.

For some reason, the familiars seemed to take an immediate shine to each other, despite the fact that the two creatures would be deadly enemies in the wild. Harry didn’t mind in the slightest.

Both boys picked up on the relaxed atmosphere and cheered up a lot. Even after the letter to both of their friends was written, they still felt wired enough to get on and finish the dreaded Potions essay. Harry thought they’d actually done rather well.

“Let’s see if Snape can find anything to complain about in this!” Harry called triumphantly, shaking the parchment.

‘Well, there’s the comma splice in the second paragraph, not to mention the muddled analogy and the mixed metaphor in the conclusion…’

“Oh, hush, no one asked you!”

‘Well, in actual fact, you just did.’

“No I didn’t!”

‘Yes you did!’

“Oh, yeah?”

‘Oh, yeah?’

“Oh, yeah?”

“Ssssilence!” Salem glared at them both. “Until today I wasn’t sure that snakes could get headachesss.”

Harry and Shadow burst out laughing. ‘Aww, we upset the snake!’

Salem slithered off, muttering something about, “Imbeciles!” and Hedwig hooted at them reprovingly.

Harry stroked her downy feathers. “Sorry, Girl, we didn’t mean to upset your new friend. I’ll make it up to him, promise!” Hedwig closed her eyes, pacified, and let herself be stroked. “Shadow? Do you think Snape minds that we’ve been so much trouble recently?”

‘You were the one he told to repeat that he wanted you here. Weren’t you listening?’

“Well, um, it’s kind of hard to believe. Especially with Snape saying it.”

‘I know, but maybe that’s why we should believe it; precisely because Snape’s saying it. You think?’

“Yeah… yeah.” Harry smirked. “Hark; the wise one hath returned!”

‘Ach, shut up, you insufferable prat!’

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like our dad!”

That phrase brought them up short and they blushed at each other. Eventually, Shadow broke the tension. ‘Hedwig, hey, Hedwig?’ She turned sleepy eyes on him. ‘Do you think you’d be up to delivering the letter tomorrow? Or do you need a little longer?’ Hedwig considered him for a minute, before hopping off Harry’s leg, snatching the letter off the ground and soaring straight out the open window.

“Well, I think that answers that question, bless her.” Harry stood and went to close the window behind her. “Shadow?”

‘Hmm?’

“I think we’re going to be all right.”

‘Yeah, ‘course we’ll be all right,’ Shadow said, yawning a little. ‘I’ve got you, haven’t I?’

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Down in the basement, Severus clenched a hand over his heart, wondering why it had suddenly started that peculiar aching again.

For the next couple of days, Harry was very careful about how he behaved around Snape, dreading the moment when the man would suddenly, somehow, work out the truth. However, despite the few odd looks thrown in his direction, Harry eventually decided that the man did not suspect a thing.

In fact, their days mostly consisted of Snape waking Harry in the mornings, them preparing their meals together as well as undertaking the occasional, odd task around the house and garden – which Snape allowed Harry to participate in more and more as he recovered – and quiet reading together in the evenings.

The pace of the days and the atmosphere of the house was absolute bliss for Harry and Shadow; though Snape would be bossy, he always took their needs into consideration and wasn’t afraid of joining in on the tasks he set Harry himself – on the pretence that he needed to show Harry what to do.

Snape had finally been able to show Harry the rest of Manor, including the Owlery. Harry had been delighted by both Anila and Aeolus, and he often crept up to the Owlery to secretly feed and fuss over them both. There had been a couple of tricky moments in the beginning where the two resident owls had tried to prevent Hedwig from getting food, but, to Harry’s relief, Hedwig had taken to her owl companions and they to her once it was made clear that she was Harry’s owl and not Snape’s.

It amused Harry to watch Snape and his familiars; they were both very protective of their master and delighted in any affection he offered them.  Snape petted Anila more often, but Aeolus demanded his attention almost constantly, making it impossible for the man to forget the younger owl. Harry occasionally wondered how Ron’s new owl was doing and what his friend had called it, but, mostly, he was caught up in his new life at Tharabraye Manor.

Harry had received several correspondences from his friends and the remaining Marauders, mostly detailing what they had been up to recently and mentioning how much they missed having Harry with them, or, in Sirius’ case, listing what he would do to Snape if he even considered being mean to Harry. These letters always left Harry with a warm glow in his chest, and Sirius’ never failed to make him laugh with their inventiveness. He loved having people to correspond with and always wrote a reply letter with as much information he could risk putting down; mostly that he was happy and enjoying himself, despite the fact that he was not with them.

He was still stunned at how much freedom Snape allowed him. After all the chores were done, Snape would lock himself away in his Potions lab and give Harry the run of the house and grounds, with the three conditions that Harry always left a note as to where he had gone, that he would stay within the Manor grounds at all times and that he would not disturb Snape unless something life-threatening was occurring.

Several times, the Professor skipped meals by accident, but Harry always made sure to put together something and leave it on the side. Snape hadn’t thanked him for this per se, but after the first few times, there were occasions when he left the meals solely up to Harry, just as there were times when he only cooked them himself. However, Harry loved cooking for Snape, especially when he compared it to his experience with the Dursleys. Snape always would find some little way to let Harry know he appreciated it, while his relatives would simply guzzle down everything Harry had made without a word of thanks.

Harry actually found Snape’s silent appreciation very soothing; after receiving no consideration for most of his life, he would have found anyone’s overt praise unsettling at best. Snape was different – to Snape he mattered, but the man didn’t try to force his regard on Harry.

The only thing preventing Harry from relaxing into his new lifestyle was the rather sudden discovery that his magic had started behaving very oddly. Objects had started disappearing from the house, only to reappear in exactly the same place they had been to start with hours later.

Harry could tell it was his magic doing it, but he had no idea how to stop it. However, he couldn’t be too displeased as the hours he spent searching for the missing items with Snape were a great time to get to know the man, despite the fact that the Professor didn’t find it as amusing as Harry when the items turned up in unexpected places...

Like any new relationship, it had been awkward at first, but Harry’s high emotions in his first few hectic days at the Manor had enabled them to be more comfortable with each other than was expected in the early stages. This was made obvious on many occasions, but none so clearly as one Saturday in the middle of August while they were preparing dinner.

“So you mean to tell me, after all of your slaving away, locked in your bedroom with half my library books for the whole afternoon, you’ve only managed to add twelve more inches to your Transfiguration essay?”

Harry scrunched his nose up and waved the chopping knife around vaguely as he made his point. “Transfiguration’s hard, and who would want to turn oranges into doilies, anyway? Until I looked the word up in your dictionary, I didn’t even know what doilies were!”

Snape grabbed his wrist and gently guided his hand down until the knife was resting back on the chopping board. “Do pay attention, Potter. Had you been in Potions class, you would have brained Mr Weasley, and Miss Granger would have been missing an awful lot of her hair… not that it would make any difference.”

Harry sighed and gently set the knife down beside the carrots before turning back to Snape. “Just goes to show that I should pursue a career as a hair dresser instead of a Potions Master. Anyway, I have no clue about what else I can write for the essay and I’ve still got another three inches to do. It’s hopeless.” He hung his head dejectedly. He didn’t bother to add that both Shadow and Salem were out of ideas too, and Shadow knew a damn lot about Transfigurations – apparently James had been amazing at them and had talked loads about the theory when Harry was little.

Snape looked pointedly at the chopping board until Harry got the hint and started helping with the meal again. “Well, I am hardly the person to ask, but I could give you a bit of information about shape-shifting potions that you could fit in. It is possible to use potions to change food into material, so it would not be completely redundant.”

“Quite honestly, Professor, I’m willing to write anything that will fill up those three extra inches. Even Salem was out of ideas.” Harry had started using his snake as an excuse to tell Snape about some of the things that Shadow said. It was a surprisingly effective method.

Shadow, Harry and Salem were now practically inseparable; Salem always rode in Harry’s pocket or on his shoulder and Shadow always reflected himself in Harry’s glasses, save for when they were in ‘their’ bedroom and he could use the mirror. One thing Harry had discovered about Shadow was that the happier he was, the less he felt he needed to talk. He was quite like their dad in that respect, whereas Harry found he wanted to talk as much as he could when he was happy. Harry had been privately amused when he discovered he’d occasionally started using some of the more complex words, which his more literate companions used on a regular basis.

Harry pulled Salem out of his pocket and stroked him until the snake uncurled and peered up at Harry gloomily. “You aren’t going to ask me any more about that awful paper thing are you?”

Harry chuckled and cupped him in both hands. “Certainly not. I think I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime!”

“Potter, if that snake doesn’t go away within the next three seconds, he’ll find himself added to the stir fry. Apparently, they can be quite a delicacy among the Chinese.”

Salem, Harry and Shadow all turned to look at Snape with extremely offended expressions on their faces. “He can understand that, you know!”

“Indeed. May he heed it as a warning for the future, then.”

Salem gave Harry a longsuffering look. “Some days I really hate that man.” Harry smiled and slipped Salem back in his pocket, knowing that he didn’t really mean it. After all, Snape had saved Salem from the horrible shop lady – Harry had heard every dramatic detail about her from his snake. Harry picked up the wooden spatula and started stirring the sizzling vegetables already in the pan, trying not to imagine Salem sitting in between the bean shoots.

‘You aren’t just going to let him get away with that comment, are you?’ Shadow asked. He was standing off to one side with his hands on his hips and looking for all the world as if he were in the kitchen with them.

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” Harry murmured over the hissing of the pan. In the past couple of weeks, he had finally been able to perfect speaking to Shadow without Snape noticing – generally when there were adequate distractions that the boys could take advantage of.

‘Expect you to do? Stand up for your snake!’ Shadow struck a pose and Harry had a hard time not giggling into the vegetables.

“All right.”

Harry turned to Snape, and, feeling brave, poked him in the side with the end of the spatula. “Don’t you be so mean about my snake!”

“Hmm, and how, pray tell, should I treat him instead?” Snape asked, looking pointedly down at the wooden object in Harry’s hand. He grabbed the end and tried to push it back towards the pan, but unfortunately, Harry chose that precise moment to try and poke him again. All of a sudden, Harry felt a sharp fizz of magic jolt through him and he barely had time to brace himself.

Somehow, the end of the spatula managed to twist out of their grip, whacking the pan and sending it flying. Sauce and vegetables rained down onto the floor while the rest of it flew through the air, mostly ending up on Snape and Harry.

Harry froze. “Oops!” he said in a small voice, staring around at the carnage and strangely fighting down the urge to laugh.

‘Run for it!’ Shadow yelped when he spotted that the realisation of what had happened was slowly creeping across Snape’s face. Harry took one look and bolted.

He managed to scramble out into the hall, but his trainers, which were still drenched in the sauce, skidded on the polished wood and came out from under him. The next second, strong arms had wrapped around his waist and lifted him clean off the ground. Harry yelped and kicked a little as he was carried back into the food splattered kitchen.

Snape turned him round and plonked him on the table. “Potter,” he said, his lips twitching oddly. It looked like he was having a hard time keeping his voice controlled and flat. “Just look what you have done to my kitchen.”

Harry looked. It looked like a vegetable warzone. He couldn’t help it. He started to laugh.

He doubled over on the kitchen table and literally howled with laughter about the whole situation; the mess of vegetables, Snape’s attempts to control his facial features, and the general ridiculousness of they had managed to get into this state.

“Potter! Thanks to you, my house is covered in vegetables!”

His words just made Harry laugh even harder; his gut aching at the absurdity of their condition. It looked like Snape had even managed to get green peppers stuck in his hair, and at that moment there was no way Harry would have been able to take him seriously, even if the end of the world had been drawing near. And then, the impossible happened. Snape covered his mouth with his hand and his shoulders started to shake. Harry gasped in a couple of breaths and managed to get himself a little under control.

Looking around again, he said innocently, “Oh dear, Professor. I seem to have spoilt your dinner. Do you think it’ll be all right if we add a little salt?”

Snape choked and had to turn away his shoulders shaking all the harder. After another couple of seconds, he managed to get himself under control and turned back. His facial expression was as blank as ever, but his eyes were bright with mirth. “I think we had better have sandwiches tonight, don’t you think?”

A wave of the ebony wand and the mess completely disappeared. Harry sat up straight with a deep sigh and rubbed his sore stomach. On the inside of his glasses, Shadow was wiping tears from his eyes. And in that moment, Harry understood what it would really be like to have Snape as his father, and it felt wonderful, like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Finally, the question that had been hanging over him for days changed from ‘if I tell Snape’ to ‘when I tell Snape’.

Harry took another deep breath and slid off the table, holding out the spatula for Snape to take. “I really am sorry about wasting all that food, it’s just, I never thought it would be that… funny.”

“Indeed.” Snape’s lips quirked and Harry’s felt a warm fizz of emotion throughout his chest. He’d never thought it would be so easy to feel truly happy.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

The weeks following the ‘window incident’ were extremely peaceful, much to Severus’ surprise. He had even managed to slide back into his usual summer routine, with a few, rather surprising benefits.

Whenever he emerged from his lab, after having lost himself in a potion for hours on end, he always discovered some meal or other waiting for him. Harry never said anything, so neither did Severus, but he always made sure to compensate with little things which Harry would barely notice; like quietly replacing ink and parchment for those friends that Potter was constantly writing to, or using magic to improve the rags that were Harry’s ‘clothes’.

There were a couple of peculiar happenings – his belongings kept randomly vanishing and reappearing, despite the fact that Severus hadn’t moved them and Harry said that he’d never touched them. There was one particularly memorable occasion when he’d invited Harry down to his lab to take a nutritive potion. He’d only turned away from the cauldron for one second to retrieve an ingredient but when he turned back, all he saw was Harry staring wide-eyed at the space where the cauldron used to be.

It had taken three hours and several searches of the house and grounds before it had turned up. On Severus’ bed. For some reason, Harry found this utterly hilarious while Severus had been less than impressed.

If the boy had had his wand, then Severus would have suspected that Harry had done it in a fit of high spirits. However, as the boy had no such means and the Potter line wasn’t powerful enough to do wandless magic on such a scale, Severus decided that this was either Black’s idea of a malicious prank, or that Albus had decided to add a new ‘feature’ to Severus’ wards, all in the name of a good joke.

Severus couldn’t force himself to be entirely angry with whoever had done it since it gave him an excuse to spend more time with Harry and get to know him better. In a detached sort of way, Severus was appalled with how soppy he was getting, but on the other hand, he didn’t care one jot. To his relief, there had been no more emotional breakdowns, and Harry was coming further out of his shell with every day that passed. The boy talked more, both to Severus and his new snake. On occasions, when he thought Severus couldn’t hear him, he even talked to himself. This caused Severus no end of amusement, despite the fact that he couldn’t hear the words.

Severus didn’t realise exactly when he had started thinking about Harry’s return to the Manor the next summer as a solid fact, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Harry liked it at Tharabraye, of that Severus was sure, and maybe next year Severus would be able to take him for a wander about the woods or show him around the village if the Death Eater threat had died down… Severus spent most of his time trying not to think about the reason why the Death Eaters had seen fit to come out of hiding, which was easier than he thought with Harry around.

Of course, the downside to Harry staying at the Manor was that the boy constantly reminded Severus of Potter’s success with Lily. That always left a bitter taste in his mouth… which was wiped away the next time he saw Harry smile. Spending time with Harry was worth any amount of pain, and if that wasn’t a soppy thought, then Severus didn’t know what was.

Severus looked up from his book and regarded Harry bent over the reviled Transfiguration essay, no doubt waffling as much as he could to fill up the last three inches. Well, it wasn’t Severus’ fault if Minerva didn’t give enough information in her classes. On the contrary, Severus gave out such a wealth of information while he was lecturing that there was no hope of any student remembering all the details. It greatly amused him to write in all the missed points at the bottom of essays and then insult the children about not even remembering to bring their own brain to class. The result; students didn’t bother him and they learnt a whole lot more than even university level students did.

He cocked his head, wondering how he would treat Harry once they got back to school. The answer came swiftly; however the hell I like. Albus has already made it clear that my spying days are over. Now, I can actually favour all of the bright students equally… while still trying to help Slytherin win the cup of course.

“Professor?”

Severus blinked. “Yes, Har… Potter?”

Harry smiled. “You looked like you wanted to say something to me.”

“No, nothing at all.” Severus hastily looked down at the open book covering his lap.

“You can call me Harry, you know. It’s not school yet and I’d… like it.”

Severus huffed a breath. “If you think I’m about to allow you to call me Severus, then you’ve got another thing coming!”

The green eyes went wide and innocent, but Severus could see mischief lurking in their depths. “Oh, I’d never presume to ask for something like that, sir… but maybe I could call you something more colloquial like… Dad.”

Severus choked. The rare volume that had been resting on his lap thumped to the floor as he stared at the impudent brat, who still had the cheek to look innocent. “Right, that does it!”

Severus stood and towered over Harry at his full height. Harry took one look and fled for the second time that evening. Severus immediately gave chase. It was a blessing to have longer legs; Severus caught him before he’d even left the sitting room.

“Disrespectful whelp! Not only do you cover my house in vegetables, but you also have the audacity to even suggest such an indignity the very same evening! This means punishment, young man!”

Severus hauled in across the room in much the same way he had earlier and dumped him on the sofa. Harry squeaked and stared up with wide eyes which – to Severus’ relief – no longer contained any fear. Severus descended on him and ran his fingers along the boy’s ribs.

Harry squirmed. “No! No! Mercy, please,” he gasped, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Think you deserve mercy do you? I’ll show you mercy!” Harry shrieked and Severus caught himself wondering what the holy hell had got into him. For the first time in years, he was behaving like Severus again, and not just Snape. He hadn’t truly been Severus since Lily had died, or, really, since she’d married Potter instead of him. He missed her terribly, but Harry went a long way to closing the gap that losing Lily had created.

Eventually, Severus let Harry up, pushing his long hair out of his eyes and wiping his brow as the boy squirmed out of reach. Severus raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“Well, have you learned your lesson, then?”

Harry nodded solemnly, or as solemnly as a person can while wiping tears of mirth off his cheeks. “Absolutely, sir. I shall never be disrespectful to you ever again!” The boy even had the cheek to smile!

“Hmm, good. And don’t you forget it!”

“Of course not, sir.” Harry came and settled on the couch beside him. “Phew, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in my life, never mind in one evening.”

Severus immediately made a mental note to make sure Harry laughed more often, but all he said out loud was, “Let’s see how far you’ve got with your essay.”

As the boy leant over and started cheerfully explaining his logic regarding the subject, Severus wondered how he could ever have seen James Potter in the child. Harry was nothing like the man.

Harry hummed to himself quietly as he lay flat on his bed. Snape had been called away by Dumbledore for some ‘important business’ that not even Snape was allowed to know in advance. The man had been most apprehensive about leaving Harry alone in the house without anyone to protect him, but Harry had eventually managed to persuade him – with a couple of helpful comments from Shadow, which he had used to great effect – that he would be fine.

He and Shadow talked almost constantly these days; the more they said, the more there was to talk about and Harry was actually wondering whether he ought to tell Snape about Shadow, or about him being Harry’s father first. Shadow was as much a part of Harry’s life as Snape was at the moment; true, he got plenty of letters from his friends and Remus and Sirius, but it wasn’t anywhere near the same as having someone right next to you who you could bounce ideas off. Harry had actually caught himself wishing that the holidays could be longer, which would never have happened at the Dursleys. Unfortunately, the best he could do was to make it memorable; after all, not all of Snape’s belongings had gone missing by accident!

“Shadow?”

‘Uh huh?’

“Do you think that if I started exercising my magic more regularly, the problems would stop?”

Shadow rolled over and blinked at him lazily. ‘If you think about it, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing recently. It hasn’t helped any, has it, really?’

Harry sighed and stared up into the canopy of his bed. “No, not at all. In fact, it seems to be getting worse with the more time that goes by. Even not using it at all doesn’t help. I’m starting to get worried, Shadow. I mean, Snape’s been good enough about it so far, but I’m sure he’s reaching the end of his tolerance...”

Shadow sighed and ran the tips of his fingers up and down the scar on his cheek, like he often did when he was thinking. ‘I think you should tell him about it soon. Magic should always be taken seriously, no matter how harmless it seems... this could end up being something extremely dangerous if it gets much worse.’

Harry screwed up his face and tried to think. “I don’t know... It would mean he’d know it was my fault that all his belongings were being mucked around with; and he can get awfully possessive about his stuff, and I really don’t want to be shouted at. Besides,” Harry peeped up at Shadow through his fringe, “you said that the Potter line wasn’t old or strong enough to do wandless magic on such a scale. We’d have to tell him the truth, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet.”

Shadow let his hand fall away from his cheek and it dropped on the bed with a soft thump. ‘Will you ever be ready?’

“Probably not.”

‘Better sooner than later, then.’

Harry blew out a breath, making his fringe fly upwards. “Yeah, I suppose. I just need to psych myself up first.”

Shadow gave him a troubled look and Harry flopped back on the bed to avoid it. ‘OK, just don’t leave it too long. I’m worried about you. About this.’

Harry smiled up at the canopy. Even after all these weeks with Shadow, it was still nice to hear those words out loud. Unfortunately, it did come with the side effect that Shadow would nag him until he did as he was told, all in his best interests, of course. I’d better distract him with something. I wonder what... 

“Shadow?”

‘Uh huh?’

“Let’s go flying!”

The brown haired boy sat bolt upright. ‘Oh yes! Let’s do that!’ Shadow scrambled over to his trunk and snatched up his replica of Harry’s Firebolt, which Snape had obligingly resized a few days earlier. ‘I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before, come on, come on!’

Harry laughed and grabbed his own broom. “Hey, Salem, want to come flying with us?”

Salem raised his head and glared at the two boys. “By my scalesss! If you’re trying to kill yourselves, don’t you dare drag me along with you! I’m going back to ssssleep.” The little snake curled up on Harry’s pillow and turned his back on the boys.

Harry grinned. “Sssuit yourself! Bye, Salem!”

The two of them scrambled down the stairs, laughing with enthusiasm as they went, and drunk on their temporary freedom within the Manor. Yes, they could go anywhere they pleased when Snape was there, but being home alone brought a whole new excitement to the idea.

The second that the back door was open, Harry mounted his broom and kicked off, swiftly followed by Shadow. The two of them looped and soared, diving in between each other with every swoop. Harry realised that like this, it truly was as though Shadow was racing along beside him, enjoying the bright sun and the stiff breeze.

They tossed their brooms around as if they were the original test pilots; dodging between the orchard trees, then flying straight up, higher and higher until the air went thin and the sun’s rays no longer warmed Harry, and then down, to the far away spec that was the Manor house in such a steep dive that not even Snape would have been able to watch. The wards crackled blue in the air around them; depicting the edge of the Manor even that high in the air, and Harry was always careful not to test them. Instead, he flew in tight circles around the house, trying to beat Shadow, who matched him equally in weight and speed.

It was on the third turn that disaster struck. Harry didn’t even feel it coming. All of a sudden, his magic surged within him, stronger than before, and, having no convenient object nearby to dissipate itself on, it vanished Harry’s broom.

The shock and the terrible fear that suddenly clutched at Harry’s heart kept him silent all the way to the ground; a full two storeys.

Hitting the ground hurt, but the full pain of the experience didn’t hit Harry until about two seconds later. He managed a soft, gasping groan deep in the back of his throat as he saw Shadow alight a few feet away and run up to him. He heard the boy’s desperate shouts at him to stay awake, to stay conscious, but much as he wanted to, he could not. His last thought before the world slipped away was thank goodness Shadow’s OK.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus’ Apparition took him to the foot of the Manor’s drive and he alighted, feeling very pleased with his outing. He couldn’t wait to tell Harry about what he and Dumbledore had been up to; doubtless the boy would be very interested. In light of his victory, Severus allowed himself a leisurely stroll up to the gates of his Manor as he phrased just what he would say to the boy, so that his words would have the maximum positive impact.

Putting smarmy buggers in their place was always his favourite pastime. And on this occasion, after taking care of a certain three people, he and Albus had set the scene for yet another family to get their comeuppance, not that he’d tell Harry that yet.

He let himself through the gates and strode across the lawn, surprised as always at how much he had missed his home, especially now that Harry was here. He glimpsed something red out of the corner of his eye and out of idleness turned to see what it was.

The next second, he was running as fast as his legs would carry him towards the object, fear pressing down on his lungs until he could hardly breathe. His remaining good humour was left in tatters, replaced by a dark panic that threatened to consume him. Within seconds – though it had seemed like hours – he dropped down beside the boy and scrabbled for his pulse.

“Harry, Harry.” His words came out in fearful, little wheezes, and then all his breath gasped in relief when his searching fingers revealed that the boy was, in fact, still alive. Badly hurt, but still alive. Reading the results of the diagnostic spell that he cast a bare second later was almost like looking back two weeks in time; broken ribs, broken ankle, but there also a concussion and what looked like a greenstick fracture near his left elbow. There was also no explanation for his injuries.

Gently, carefully, he wrapped his arms around the child and slowly lifted him from the ground. The boy whimpered in his stupor as the new position jarred his ribs. “Sshh, shh, Harry, I’ve got you. It’s all right, I’ve got you.” Severus kept up the litany all the way back to the house; trying to push back some of the appalling panic that had him tight within his grip. Or maybe he was trying to stop the awful stinging in his eyes whenever he thought about Harry dying. It didn’t help that he had to walk as slowly and carefully as possible to stop himself from accidently damaging the child any further.

No, no please, not this child. Anyone, any child but this one. Please not my Harry.

Severus carefully made his way over to the fireplace and used his wand – which had been in his hand ever since he had cast the diagnostic – to levitate some Floo powder into the grate. “Albus,” he whispered softly, so as not to disturb the boy in his arms or to betray the roughness of his throat. “There’s an emergency at the Manor, please get here immediately.”

He then turned and slowly ascended the stairs, praying for Albus to come soon and to help make it all alright again. After all, that’s what the old man did best. Didn’t he?

It’s all my fault. I never should have left. Harry, what has happened to you? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Forgive me, forgive me, please. Not Harry, not Harry, sod it, I’ll do anything.

Severus gently laid Harry on his bed and started whispering charms and incantations, summoning and using potions, in an attempt to stop the internal bleeding, to mend bones, to prevent the boy’s brain swelling so much that it alone might kill him. Where was the calm fatalism that he always felt when operating on himself now? How could he feel so composed while sewing up his own arm when he felt as if he were about to drop his wand as he spelled Harry’s ulna back into place?

Please let him be all right, please, please, please. Albus, where are you?

And finally it was time to cast the last spell. Severus could barely do it; his teeth were clenched too tightly and his wand trembled in his hand. After this, if the spell didn’t work, Harry might never wake up again.

“Enervate…” Severus closed his eyes and prayed harder than he ever had in his life before. To who, he never really worked out; Merlin perhaps, or Lily. Mostly Lily.

She would never let her boy die, would she? She’d never let him slip into an eternal coma, would she? If this doesn’t work, I’ll never see him again… never speak to him again. And I’ll have failed her again. Please…

Severus hands twisted in his own robes and a single tear squeezed out and down his cheek.

I can’t, I can’t, oh, please…

A soft moan came from the bed. Severus’ eyes snapped open.

Harry…

“Uh… where am I? Ah, hurts,” Harry mumbled, his green eyes opening and staring blearily around the room. “Uh, hello, P’fessor, when’d you get back?”

“Harry!” Unable to help himself, Severus scooped the boy up against his chest as gently as he could, his mind repeated one word over and over like a broken record; alive, alive, alive! Severus gently settled the boy more comfortably in his arms and held several pain potions to his mouth, helping him get them past his lips far enough for him to swallow the vile liquid.

Harry didn’t protest at the Professor’s behaviour, just leaned closer, as if the man’s mere presence could stop the pain. That was how Dumbledore found them a short while later.

“Harry? Severus? What on Earth’s the matter?”

Harry looked up blearily from the crook of Snape’s arm. The pain had dulled to a low throbbing ever since he had taken Snape’s potions, so he certainly hoped he wasn’t hallucinating. But why else would Dumbledore be standing in the doorway? Harry sighed and prepared to snuggle deeper into his father’s arms in an attempt to block out the illusion. Luckily, it turned out that Snape had heard the old man too because he shifted around on the bed to get a better look at the Headmaster. Harry groaned as the movement stretched his aching body and Snape froze.

“Harry? I’m sorry.”

“S’OK. I don’t actually hurt anymore, I’m just sore…”

“Harry, you’re not making any sense.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you started at the beginning?” Dumbledore asked, carefully seating himself in the chair which Snape normally sat in and peering at Harry over his half-moon spectacles. Harry groaned again and hid his face in Snape’s chest in an attempt to stop his head feeling like it was about to float off his shoulders. Dumbledore shifted his gaze to the man holding Harry.

Snape cleared his throat. “I came home after our meeting and found Harry collapsed outside. He had multiple injuries; concussion, broken bones, internal bleeding. I brought him inside and called you. Then I put him to bed and fixed as much of him as I could. I’ve still no idea of what happened, though.”

“Ah.” Harry’s memory of the event came rushing back. “It happened again.”

Snape shifted once more so that he could see Harry’s face. “Harry? What happened again?”

“The magic… happened again. It made my broom disappear.”

Snape’s head snapped up. “You! Old man, this is your fault! If you hadn’t added that special feature to my new wards, Harry would never have been so badly hurt!” Snape snarled at the startled Headmaster.

“Severus, I assure you that I did nothing of the sort! The only changes I made to your wards were to make them stronger. I’m sure you checked them afterwards to confirm just that.”

“Ah.” Snape bent his head over Harry’s, and Harry could have sworn he felt the man’s lips brush his hair. “Must have been that stupid mutt, then.”

Harry’s mind seemed to be working slower than usual; he felt awfully fuzzy. “Oh. No, wasn’t Sirius. It was my magic – it made the broom disappear and I fell. But Shadow’s OK, he wasn’t hurt. Which is strange, really, he’s normally hurt at the same time I am…” Harry suddenly realised that ‘concussion’ was another word for ‘a bump on the head which makes the affected person speak utter nonsense’. He couldn’t really bring himself to care, not when Snape was holding him and keeping him warm.

“Your magic? But, how… And, who is this Shadow? Harry, what are you talking about?”

“I think I know...” Snape and Harry turned their eyes towards Dumbledore in surprise. He knows what’s going on? But, how? Even I don’t know what’s going on and it’s happening to me.  “But now is not the time for that discussion. Harry, here…”

Dumbledore stepped forward and placed his hands on Harry’s chest. A strange tingling spread throughout Harry’s body; almost as if he lying exactly where lightening was about to strike. He shifted uncomfortably and realised in an instant that his limbs no longer hurt, almost as if he were detached from them. To his surprise, Harry understood that, in a way, he was. He was inside his magical core. The only thing was; he was no longer alone in there.

There were several vividly orange tendrils twisting among themselves off to one side. Harry pushed his consciousness towards them, noticing as he went that his magical core seemed very subdued. There was even a slight split forming down one side. Harry wondered with more than a little apprehension if he should be worried about that.

He was distracted from his own magical integrity when he abruptly reached the orange coils of power. They were glowing brightly as if their owner knew exactly how to use them. Dumbledore! Harry realised in an instant. It must be Dumbledore.

Relieved that the new tendrils were no danger to him, Harry pressed his own magic towards the foreign power and felt Dumbledore’s ‘orange’ magic twining with his own. Slowly, Harry felt himself being drawn out of his own magical core. He could have resisted if he had so chosen, but he allowed himself to be pulled along by the gentle strength that held him, back to the surface of consciousness. In his absence, the terrible ache in his limbs had diminished into nothing.

“There. Better now, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, smiling a little.

“Umm, yeah, thanks… What did you do?”

“Not now, though I am sure you are most curious. Now you must rest and regain your strength. I shall explain it to you both in the morning. It is rather important, but after the drama of today, neither of you are up for that kind of discussion tonight.”

Harry sighed irritably. “What is it about this holiday and me always having to sleep?”

A low chuckle resounded from the chest behind him, making Harry try to twist his head to see Snape’s face. “Good to see you’re feeling better. There is a reason why I keep telling you not to risk your life, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry mumbled sleepily, slumping back into the arms around him. “Not good for my health, I know.”

“Not just that. If you died… I don’t think I’d survive it.”

Harry couldn’t help it. The words slipped out before he’d even thought about them. “Thanks, Dad…” Harry had fallen fast asleep before the shocked expression even made it to Snape’s face.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

“Well, I never thought I’d see it in my lifetime,” Albus said cheerfully.

“What?” Severus snarled as he tucked the covers around the peacefully sleeping Harry. “Severus Snape and Harry Potter getting along?”

A smile touched the old man’s mouth. “That too, but that was not what I meant.”

“Then stop talking in riddles and just tell me!” Severus finished straightening Harry’s room and pulled Dumbledore out by his arm. For some reason, he found he did not want to let anyone – not even his mentor – near Harry at the moment.

“I could, but it’s hardly fair to start the discussion without Harry. Poor boy.” Albus shook his head. “He must have been so confused…”

“Albus!”

Albus’ head snapped up. “Oh, sorry, Severus. I promise everything will be made clear tomorrow, but for today Harry needs his sleep.”

Albus gently took ahold of his elbow and led him back through into the sitting room.

After he’d pushed his Potions Master into his favourite chair, the Headmaster lowered himself onto the couch and smiled. “Tea, Severus?”

“N… Yes, thank you.” Severus found that his throat was parched from trying to keep his panic under control after what might have happened earlier. He certainly wouldn’t have been sitting in his living room about to take a late evening tea with the Headmaster...

Dumbledore conjured a tea set and placed a mug into his freezing fingers.

“You did well today, my boy.”

“Well? What the blazes do you think I did well, Albus? I almost k-killed him, and then where would you be without your precious Potter brat?” The insult lacked enthusiasm.

“You kept your head and you saved his life. I think that behaviour deserves praise, especially as it is obvious you care about Harry.”

“I do NOT care about him!” The teacup flew into the fireplace and shattered into a million pieces as Severus shot to his feet. “You’re crazy, you’re insane!”

Albus came over and gently lowered the shaking man back into his chair. “Severus, calm down. It’s all right to feel like this, you’ve had a great shock about someone you love, it’s all right.” He gently squeezed Severus’ shoulder and stood behind him, rather like he had on the night Lily died. “It’s very hard to be someone’s father, but you have done admirably.”

“I’m not his father.” The words came out softly; as tired and strained as Severus felt.

“Oh? Then tell me this; if James Potter was miraculously brought back from the dead tomorrow and offered to take Harry and give him a home, who would Harry choose? James or you?”

“I... I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“Very well, I shall make it easier. Out of the two of you, who does Harry willingly spend his time with? Who does he talk with, laugh with, and read with?”

Severus snapped his head back and sneered. “That isn’t fair, old man! Harry only knew his father when he was a baby, doubtless if Potter were here, Harry wouldn’t even wish to give me the time of day!” He tried to conceal how much that idea hurt him.

“If! If James was here! But he isn’t, is he? You are. Harry has chosen you. Ignore the what-ifs and maybes of this life and the answer always becomes clearer. And from what little I’ve seen of you two together, it is extremely clear to me. Children can be surprisingly intuitive about whom they trust. You are a good man Severus; let Harry show you that.”

Severus took a deep breath and tried to relax. It’s over now, Severus. It’s over. The adrenaline rush had abated and was now leaving him quite drained.

Albus smiled at him. “That’s better, dear boy. Now; it is time for me to go to bed. Righting the wrongs of this world is a tiring business.”

Albus stretched himself out on the couch, propped his purple boots up against the arm rest and closed his eyes. Severus sat still, feeling completely stunned for a little while longer, before he felt he could coherently use his vocal chords once more.

“Albus, I never thought I’d say this, but you clash with the furniture. I have plenty of guest rooms that you could use.”

“Hmm.” Albus opened one eye and caught him with its blue stare. “Be that as it may, I have no wish to listen to you pacing outside my room all night, waiting for morning. I would tell you to go upstairs and sleep yourself, but I know damn well that unless I force a Dreamless Sleep potion down your throat you’ll be sitting beside Harry’s bed until you fall asleep from exhaustion in the early hours of the morning.” The eye closed and Headmaster appeared to fall fast asleep.

Scowling, Severus turned and stormed upstairs, determined to prove the old man wrong and go straight to his own room. Entering the hallway at the top of the stairs, he paused, and then, much more softly, walked over to Harry’s door and opened it slowly.

Harry was lying there, fast asleep. One side of his face was slightly bruised from where he hit his head, but mostly, he looked perfectly all right now. His face had filled out some ever since Severus had started giving him regular meals. The dark bruises that had been clearly evident under his eyes had also faded completely since he'd come to the Manor, and, most importantly, his breathing was even and regular. He did not seem to be in any pain while he slept.

Watching Harry simply lying there and living was addictive, but Severus managed to shake himself out of his stupor and remind himself that he needed his sleep too. Especially after the day he’d had.

With a slight wand movement and a murmured incantation, an alerting charm settled over Harry’s bed. Severus took one last guilty look before retiring to his own room. It was only after he had slept through the night that he realised he had done exactly what the Headmaster had intended.

Harry yawned and stretched sleepily. His head hurt, but the rest of him was blissfully painless. Salem had climbed onto his shoulder during the night and was now dozing there peacefully. Harry chuckled and scooped him up, cupping the small serpent in his hands as he climbed out of bed and walked over to the mirror.

“Morning, Sleepy!”

Shadow flopped upright, his tousled hair covering most of his face. ‘Well, look who’s cheerful this morning!’ Shadow dragged himself out of bed and staggered over to Harry. ‘That. Hurt. You. Moron.’

Harry coloured. “Um, yeah, sorry about that. You know how my magic’s been going haywire recently, so it wasn’t really my fault, but I’m still sorry. You didn’t look that hurt at the time…”

Shadow yawned again. ‘Yeah, it was weird. I could feel that you were in pain, but I wasn’t in pain myself, despite the fact that I could feel your pain in me…’ Shadow paused. ‘One thing I am sure about though; you concussion is affecting us both!’

Harry grinned. “Oops! So what’s got you looking so amiable this morning?”

Shadow glowered and rubbed his eyes. ‘This is your fault too. I had spend most of the night watching over you, didn’t I? And Snape looked like he was about to have heart-failure the whole time you were unconscious, so I wasn’t about to leave you.’

Harry was touched. “Oh, um, thanks, Shadow. I’m OK now, if that’s any help…”

Shadow smiled for the first time that morning. ‘Yeah. Yeah, it is actually. Come on, since you’re fine, you can get dressed and go and find out what Dumbledore was rambling about last night.’

“M’kay.” Harry got dressed slowly, not wishing to get dizzy as he heard some concussion patients could get if they weren’t careful. Shadow just stood, leaning against the mirror, blearily watching Harry. Harry even had to ‘brush’ his hair for him – every brushstroke Harry made through his own hair helped Shadow’s to straighten out, even though it had no affect on Harry’s mop.

Harry slowly padded down the stairs, idly listening to the voices echoing up from the kitchen. He pushed the kitchen door open and froze as the room went deathly silent, feeling strangely uncertain.

“What are you doing, young man?” Snape strode forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Are you still trying to get yourself killed? You should be resting!”

“No, listen, I’m fine, D…” Harry’s eyes went wide just as he realised what he was about to say. What an idiot! And I said it last night as well, didn’t I? Stupid!

Snape’s face softened a tiny bit. “Harry… sit.” He pushed him into the chair beside the Headmaster.

“Good morning, Harry. It actually might be best if we retired to the sitting room now that we’re all here.”

“OK.” Harry snagged two pieces of toast and followed on behind the departing Headmaster.

Snape gave them both a sour look. “Now I see. The two of you are involved in a conspiracy to cover the rest of my house with various food products.”

Harry smirked and shuffled up beside the Headmaster and muttered, “Darn, sir, he’s onto us!” causing the old man to laugh.

“Now, I’m sure you both want to know about what I have discovered, or rather, deduced,” Dumbledore stated as he settled onto the couch. Harry took a seat beside him and Snape claimed his own chair. “Both comfortable? Good.” The Headmaster conjured tea and handed some to them both. “The topic which I am about to broach with you has fascinated me since I was a boy, but I never even dreamed that I would encounter the enchantment.” Dumbledore saluted Harry with his teacup before his expression became strangely grave.

“Now, I shall need to delve into the history of it for you both, so please bear with me... In the time of the Ancient Greeks, there was a well-known saying inscribed on the Temple at Delphi which most scholarly men of the age tried to adhere by – ‘Know thyself and thou wilt know the universe and the gods’. Essentially, it implies that if you do not truly understand yourself, you will understand very little of that which is around you. Now, around this time, there was an exceptionally clever and rather intuitive young wizard – his name escapes me – who he thought it would be a good idea to capture the essence of this concept in a spell. Essentially, something that would reveal someone’s true appearance or nature.”

Dumbledore nodded at Snape, who had just refilled his teacup. Harry sat frozen, already enraptured by the tale.

“After many years of fruitless attempts, he hit upon a new idea that he could create a spell which his ‘Gnothi Seauton’ would be able to undo, for no other previously created enchantment was affected by it. And so, he crafted a spell – I could not find the exact Greek phrase for this, but it roughly translates to ‘change thy soul’. He then cast it upon his young apprentice; a boy of no more than eight.

“Because the man had been concentrating on himself – on how the success or failure of his spell would reflect on him – the spell focussed on the person most prominent in the man’s mind at the time and changed the boy’s appearance accordingly. Essentially, the enchantment altered the young boy’s appearance until he appeared to be the wizard’s own kin.

“Shocked and excited by the success of the new spell, he then cast the previously created counter on his young apprentice. It worked. The counter changed the boy back to his original form with no ill side effects.

“Delighted by this eventual success, the young wizard published his findings in the magical community the next year, convinced that they would be useless in day to day life, but unwilling to have nothing to show for all his hard work.”

Harry gulped slightly and set his tea down on a side table; he had a feeling he knew where this was going. Surprisingly, Snape didn’t seem to have caught on.

“However, it did have a use, though the young wizard didn’t realise it at the time.”

Thought so.

“Fourteen years after it was published, there was a huge scandal concerning a mother who had cast the first spell on a child who was not of her husband. She had managed to pass him off as a genuine heir of the family for several years. However,” Dumbledore paused, his face grim, “when the boy turned fourteen, he started telling his mother about the appearance of a boy reflected in the pond, but when she checked, there was nothing there. She forbade her child to go down to the pond anymore, but he disobeyed and kept coming back with more and more stories about this youngster who was ‘just like him’.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Shadow…

“Soon after this, the boy’s magic started acting strangely; it made objects disappear, or exploded family possessions, all fairly minor, but the boy claimed to have neither control over what the magic did, nor knowledge of what the outbursts would do.

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck started to go up... It was like Dumbledore was trying to get Harry to brace himself for something... breaking the news to him slowly...

“And now we reach the most tragic part of the story; six months after the first appearance of the child in the pond, the false heir slowly started losing his mind. At her wits end, the mother took her son to the wizard who created the curse and told him everything that had happened.

“After several attempts to determine what aspect of the spell had damaged the child, in the hopes of fixing it without revealing the boy’s true identity the wizard gave up and cast the counter, revealing the child’s true form. Miraculously, this mostly restored the boy’s mind; his magic had been fighting itself, and while some parts of the child’s intellect were irreparably damaged, his mind was still salvageable once the interference had died down. Apparently six months was all it had taken before the boy’s magic had turned its destructive force inwards. But the boy never forgave his mother or the wizard, for saving him.”

Harry mouth was dry, but he forced himself to speak, to ask the question that was burning his throat all the same. “Why?”

The sadness in Dumbledore’s eyes terrified Harry. “From the second that the release spell was cast, from the second the fourteen year old started looking like the boy in the water – the child’s friend, his companion, his ‘brother’… ceased to exist.”

“NO!” Harry roared, leaping to his feet, and startling his companions so badly that they flinched. “No! It can’t be true, you’re lying! Not Shadow! I- I’d rather go insane! He’s my brother, my brother!” Harry turned to run, but stopped abruptly as Shadow appeared directly in front of him. Shadow looked Harry straight in the eye, folding his arms and shaking his head. How did this reflection come to mean so much to me? Why? How? How is this fair?

“You knew, didn’t you, Shadow? You knew this would happen.”

‘No,’ Shadow whispered, his voice broken. ‘No, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t know.’

“Shadow, we don’t have to do this,” Harry pleaded. “I want, I need you in my life, please don’t agree to this, please!”

‘I…’ Shadow dropped his head. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

“We’ll go away; far away, where they can’t find us!” Unbidden, an image of Uncle Vernon standing in the hall and tearing bits of his moustache out flashed before Harry’s eyes. No. No… We’ll find a way.

Shadow just bit his lip and stared at his feet. Harry stared at Shadow, silently begging him to look up.

The silence was finally broken by Snape. “So… Harry is like this boy? Who’s his true father then?”

“Oh, Severus, isn’t it obvious?”

A soft choking noise was heard coming from Snape’s direction. “Lily… What have you done?”

Harry didn’t glance Snape’s way to see how he was taking the news that Harry had been agonizing over for weeks. All that mattered right now was Shadow, who looked very much like he was about to allow himself to be killed so Harry could survive. He couldn’t let Shadow do that. Snape might be his father, but Shadow was his soul.

‘I want to talk to them.’

“What?”

‘I want…’ Shadow drew a deep, shuddery breath and raised his face to Harry’s. A single tear hung from his bottom lashes, which, even as Harry watched, slipped free and rolled down his cheek. Harry stared in horror. Would destroying Shadow be as easy as watching that tear fall? The truth was; Harry was scared. He knew how powerful his magic was; how much damage he could cause if he lost his mind. But he couldn’t lose Shadow, especially not now. Maybe… maybe if they meet Shadow they will see reason. Maybe they would find a way to save us both...

“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry whispered.

“Yes, my boy?” the Headmaster asked, more composed than a person, who had just watched a boy talking to himself for five minutes, ought to be. Harry deliberately did not look at Snape, but Snape seemed to avoiding Harry’s eyes as well.

“Is there a way – a spell – that will allow you to see Shadow, or talk to him?”

“Yes…” Dumbledore frowned. “But I have never cast it; it may not work.”

“Do it. Shadow wants it.” Harry turned his head away, trying not to show how achingly hollow he felt, how betrayed that these people would even consider killing a person he held so dear.

Harry didn’t look up as he listened to Dumbledore softly whispering words, and then Snape’s sudden gasp. He only turned around when Shadow looked up and strode past Harry’s left shoulder. A large mirror had been conjured in front of the fireplace and there, in the centre, stood Shadow.

‘Erm, hi.’ The boy smiled a little at the gaping men and let his long hair fall in front of his face. ‘So, well, you didn’t finish the story,’ he murmured shyly to Dumbledore. ‘I think we – Harry and I – would like to hear the rest of it before, well, before…’

Snape walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it, surveying the child standing before him. Harry noticed detachedly that Snape’s face appeared to be even more deathly pale than usual, but apart from that, his mask was unreadable. Shadow gulped and looked up at the man looming over him, nervous, despite the fact that Shadow was three inches taller than Harry.

Still looking at Shadow, Snape spoke. “So, Albus, you are saying that to save my son…” Here Snape’s voice cracked a little, but he obviously forced himself to keep going. “…this child has to die.” Snape held Shadow’s eyes as he said this and Harry felt a rush of affection for his father – Snape would never allow Shadow to be hurt, after all, he was Snape’s son too.

“Essentially… yes…” The guilt in Dumbledore’s eyes made Harry want to throw something. Guilt meant that all of this had to be true… Harry would have preferred it if Dumbledore had been caught to be lying through his teeth, or being as maliciously manipulative as some of the Slytherins said he was – anything but this.

“Dammit, Albus!” Snape shouted, spinning around to face the old man. “This child,” Snape threw his arm out and jabbed his finger in Shadow’s direction, causing him to flinch, “this child is not Harry! You are condemning one innocent life to save another! They are both people, Albus!”

“I know!” Dumbledore glared at Snape, anger flashing in his eyes, and for a moment Harry was truly scared. Snape seemed a little worried too. Then, the moment passed, and an old man was left sitting on the couch, his head cradled by one of his hands. “Do you think I don’t know this?” He sighed. “Perhaps it would be best if I finished the story?”

Shadow nodded, acting the peacemaker. ‘Please.’ He glanced at Harry, who was standing to one side of the mirror, his hands clenched in silent rage. ‘Harry, I didn’t stay up all night just so that you could make yourself sick again by overtaxing yourself. Sit down this instant!’ Shadow’s bossy tone lacked its usual enthusiasm, but he still managed to make Harry smile. And so, Harry sat, garnering disbelieving looks from the two adults.

They still didn’t seem to understand that he would do anything for Shadow.

“Now,” Dumbledore cleared his throat harshly, “now, the wizard from Ancient Greece did a lot more research into what had gone wrong with his spell to cause such trauma. In the end, he came up with an amazingly simple solution, which should have been the first thing anyone would have considered when crafting a spell that affects children… A young witch or wizard comes into their full, adult powers at the age of fourteen. The spell had no effect on a person over the age of fourteen.

“A spell that has hold over a child will not necessarily have a hold over that same person when they become an adult. The adult magic fights the enchantment when the child comes of Magical Age, often resulting in the destruction of said enchantment. For example; Stupefy would no longer keep someone in an enchanted sleep once the midnight heralding their fourteenth year has passed. The spell that has hold over Harry is much stronger than any normal one – it is the closest known enchantment found to truly alter a person’s ‘self’.

 “But his adult magic still fights it; resulting in this young man here.” To his credit, Dumbledore did look Shadow straight in the eye when he said this. At least he acknowledges the person he is about to send to his death.

 ‘How?’

“It’s like a defence mechanism – Harry’s body knows something’s wrong, but it can’t tell him that. So it uses its new, adult magic to create a way to let Harry know. I daresay one of the first things you told Harry was that he had a different father?”

Shadow looked miserable. ‘Yes,’ he whispered in a very small voice. Then he rallied. ‘But I’m not just a defence mechanism anymore – I’m Shadow!’

“Yes,” Dumbledore sighed, “yes, and herein lies the problem; the second Harry started thinking of you as a person, you became a person.”

Shadow blinked and frowned. Harry and Snape just stared at Dumbledore in confusion.

‘I- think I understand. Ever since you named me, I’ve been changing… I was no longer ‘Harry’ anymore, I was Shadow. And no person is the same as they were when they were ten, compared to when they are twenty.’

Shadow hung his head, dismay clearly written across his features. ‘I became myself, but I was still a part of Harry.’

Harry blinked. “But… what’s wrong with that?”

Shadow smiled wryly. ‘Ever heard of schizophrenia?’ Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t seem to draw in enough air, but Shadow wasn’t finished. ‘It’s even worse with wizards; the magic starts being pulled in two different directions, making it go and do things that neither side of the personality can control. And then…’ Shadow bit his lip, ‘it’s almost like the magic creates a personality of its own if left too long. This destroys both the original person and the double and leaves… well… a Shade or Demon or something even worse.’

Harry stared at his counterpart in horror as the whole weight of their situation came crashing down on him. He couldn’t lose Shadow because that would be like losing his soul, but if he didn’t condemn Shadow, they would become a monster, controlled forever by a terrible hunger for power. And it was clear Shadow was terrified by this thought.

When Harry didn’t respond, Shadow moved his gaze to Dumbledore. ‘Isn’t that right?’

“Yes. I am sorry.”

Shadow shrugged. ‘Not your fault. So what happens now?’

“Hopefully, if I remove your memories of being Shadow, it will revert your personality to what it was when you were originally created. By thus removing the dissonance you have created within Harry’s soul, I will be able to cast the ‘Gnothi Seauton’ on Harry and make him how he was meant to be.”

Shadow’s jaw clenched and his eyes shone like steel. ‘Do it!’

“Shadow, no,” Harry croaked, unable to fully believe this was really happening.

‘Harry.’ Shadow’s voice was gentle. ‘Be brave for me, please. Remember me when I am gone, but don’t stop me from doing this. I love you, I always will.’ Shadow swallowed and said much quieter than before, ‘Do it.’

Harry gasped, his limbs frozen in place as Dumbledore pulled out his wand. Time slowed right down until he could have counted the number of flecks in Shadow’s green eyes had he wished it, and, just as suddenly, it sped up again as if to make up for those sluggish seconds…

“Obliviate!”

“NO!” Harry scrambled off the couch and onto his knees, desperately trying to reach the mirror before the spell did. Strong arms suddenly grabbed him and held him back. “No, no, NO! Shadow! SHADOW!”

The spell hit and Shadow’s eyes closed, if only for a moment, but when they opened again, they did not know Harry. “Shadow,” he wheezed softly, his heart cracking into a million pieces.

‘Hello,’ said the boy. ‘Do I know you?’

Harry didn’t even see Dumbledore turn his wand on him, didn’t even hear the words of the spell, didn’t feel the effects of the enchantment dissolving around him as the spell hit. All he had eyes for was the mirror, the way the tall, polite looking boy with a scar on his right cheek and another on his forehead seemed to double over, to crouch on the floor in exactly the same position that Harry was in and gain a panicky, haunted look around his eyes. The boy was crying, but he was not Shadow; he no longer had a scar on his cheek.

SHADOW…

“Shadow!” Harry cried out, watching with panicky desperation as the boy in the mirror moved with him – a reflection, just a reflection. Harry scrabbled, clawed, bit at the hands holding him back, but they did not let him go. “Shadow, Shadow, where are you? Where are you, please? Please! You can’t be gone, I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO SAY GOODBYE! No…” The room disappeared in a blur of colours as Harry’s eyes filled with tears he refused to knowingly shed.

“No…” He turned to the man holding him. “Dad, Dad, please. He can’t be gone, h-he can’t…”

Snape pulled him into a tight embrace and Harry could feel his father shaking a little too. “I’m sorry, Harry. He’s gone.”

Harry didn’t know how long they sat there, broken, but eventually, something as mundane and ordinary as a cramp in his leg pulled him out of his grief. He slowly moved away and stood up.

Dumbledore was standing, staring at where the mirror had been, though Harry didn’t know if he’d magicked it away, or if it had disappeared on its own. Harry walked right up to the man and stared at him until he turned to look at Harry.

“I forgive you, you know,” Harry said, marvelling that his voice didn’t shake. “But only because Shadow wanted it.” Harry set his chin and glared at the old man, trying to convey every emotion he felt through that one look.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I understand, Mr Snape, and I thank you for your forbearance. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll leave you to your grief. I’m sure both of you have seen more than enough of me already.”

“Albus.”

“Yes, Severus?” The Headmaster stopped in the grate, his face pale and drawn.

“Thank you for saving my son.” Harry felt a hand descend on his shoulder.

“Would that it were not at such a great price.” And then Dumbledore was gone. Just like Shadow.

“Shadow’s gone.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed harder.

“Would you like to tell me about him?”

“One day.” Harry took a deep breath and looked Snape in the eye. “But right now, I’d like to sleep forever, please.”

Snape gently led him out and up the stairs. Harry had to move slowly to accommodate his new body, feeling a bit like Ron at one of his more gangly moments. Once Snape had settled Harry in his bed, he Accio-ed a potion and handed it over, watching him with a slight frown that formed a deep furrow between his eyebrows.

“What?”

“You… look so much like Lily like this.”

“Oh, right.” Harry quickly swallowed the potion to avoid any further conversation. I can’t deal with this right now. “Can you get rid of the mirror? I don’t want to see it again.”

A pause, then, “Of course, Harry.” Blissfully, the world chose that moment to fade away entirely, taking Harry away to a place where Shadow was not dead, to where he might be able to forget his grief, if only for a little while.

Severus stared down at the child before him, not even knowing what to think. A wave of his wand had banished the mirror, but now he needed to be alone, needed to sort things through. Barely even noticing where he was going, he stumbled back to his room and collapsed against one of the posts of his bed, gazing blankly at the dark purple hangings and longing for the ability of not being able to feel.

It was very hard not to panic. A father? Him? He’d pushed down his reaction while Harry was still in the room, trying to hold back how he felt when Harry was so obviously feeling so mixed up, but now a fear gripped his heart like he’d never known.

He, Severus Snape, was entirely responsible for another human being. It had been all right when he could pretend he was just standing in for Lily – that the child could be passed off to another one of his teachers if Severus so wished it. But now, Dumbledore would never allow him to give Harry to someone else and, despite how unsettled and unsure he felt, Severus would not allow it either. Harry was his for better or for worse and the child had become very dear to him...

And it tore at Severus’ heart to see Harry so filled with grief, but he didn’t know how to react, what to say, how to feel regarding Harry. He had no idea how to make the boy feel better and that’s what frustrated Severus the most. Weren’t fathers supposed to automatically know how to deal with their son?

Well, Severus thought as he recalled his own father, perhaps not.

But where did that leave Severus, a misanthrope of the first kind? Unbidden, the words of Albus Dumbledore came back to him. Harry has chosen you... You are a good man, Severus; let Harry show you that. Severus rubbed his face with his hand and groaned. It appeared that, no matter what, he had been given no choice in the matter. And surprisingly, Severus found that he didn’t really mind. Having Harry in his life had been pleasant, and he found he was loathe to give that up, regardless of how difficult either of them may find it adjusting to their new situation.

But now, Harry was hurting and Severus had no idea what to do.

Harry… Poor child.

He’d never seen a child’s heart broken so thoroughly when it was not his own, and that other boy… So young and already so brave, possibly even braver than Harry, and now he was gone forever. A lot of things that had puzzled Severus made such obvious sense now; the broken mirror, Harry talking to himself and even that brief flash of brown hair in the mirror. When he’d got his first proper look at that mirror-child, he’d gotten such a strong sense of déjà vu, it had felt like the rug had been ripped out from under him.

Lily… How could you have done this to your own child? Did you really hate me so much that you would risk your child’s life in this ridiculous way? Severus slowly sank down onto the bed and stared at the wall, a sense of unreality gripping him. Or were you so afraid of what might happen if the truth were known? Dammit, Lily! I would have protected you…

But would he have? He’d been so young, so incredibly foolish at that time, that there was no knowing what he would have done if he’d discovered his childhood sweetheart carried his child. It was only after Lily and her family had been targeted that he truly realised that it was not a game he had been playing. No game would ever have become so twisted…

Severus huffed and closed his eyes, and allowed himself, for the first time in years, to remember that which he’d tried so hard to forget.

 The high, sweet notes created by the brand new upright piano floated along the hallway, accompanied, if the listener strained their ears, by a woman’s softly singling voice. Severus smiled as the familiar notes of ‘Greensleeves’ drifted through the air. It always had been Lily’s favourite song, so it was no surprise that it would be one of the first tunes to christen the piano her mother had bought her as a flat warming gift. Lily had sound-proofed her new home with magic, so that the other tenants wouldn’t complain, but instead had made sure that the inside of her flat always rang with some form of music or other. It was one of the things that Severus adored about her most.

Severus poked his head around the sitting room door and, sure enough, there was Lily with her fingers flying across the keys and her red hair shimmering as she tossed back her head to sing a particularly high phrase. Severus almost caught himself humming along, but that would have alerted her to his presence and stopped the song, so instead he leaned against the doorframe and watched her with the barest hint of a smile playing across his lips.

The song ended, leaving Lily staring down at her fingers as if surprised that there was no more to play.

“Excellent as always, Lily. I still don’t see why you don’t take it up as a career.”

Lily whirled around and a huge smile lit up her face. “Severus!” Her green eyes sparkled with delight as she leapt off the piano stool and hurried into his arms. As always, he found he had a hard time keeping a grin off his own face as he reached up to touch her delicately soft hair.

Lily pulled back and looked him up and down. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to get time off until the end of the week!”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “So eager to be rid of me already?”

She hit his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t be ridiculous! Now you can come and see my new flat.”

Severus let himself be dragged through the sitting room, the tiny kitchen, the bathroom, the study and finally the bedroom, nodding indulgently as Lily nattered on about her home at about ninety miles an hour. It didn’t take a genius to work out that she adored her new place. Even after nine years of knowing her, Severus was still surprised at how much Lily found to talk about when she was happy. There was certainly never a dull moment with her.

They had accidently met up a few months after graduating, and, unexpectedly, had been able to patch up the holes in their relationship enough to get on well… startlingly well. Whenever Severus thought back to the times during school when he’d longed to have Lily as his girlfriend, he was always shocked at how easy it had been in the end.

And Severus was happy – extremely happy – when he was with Lily. And it wasn’t any different now that two years had passed either.

“So, what do you think?” Lily asked, standing in the middle of the bedroom and twirling around and around. Severus stepped forward, caught her, and pulled her close.

“If it makes you happy, it was worth every Galleon.”

“Aw, Sev, you say the sweetest things.” She reached up and gently kissed him on the lips.

“You’ll never prove it!”

She laughed and wriggled free. “I daresay I won’t. Now, tell me; how come you managed to get the day off to come and see me?” 

Between Lily’s job as Junior Charms Expert at the Ministry and Severus’ ‘extracurricular activities’, there was very little time for them to see each other these days. Severus hadn’t dared tell her that besides working at the most prestigious Apothecary on the other side of London and compiling work for his Potions Mastery, he was also making some of the more ‘unsavoury’ potions for the Dark Lord’s use. Reflexively, his eyes went, once again, to the bandage wrapping the forearm to see if it was still in place. It was.  ‘Potions accident’ he always told her, for he knew she would never accept him if she really knew what lay beneath…

 “Another cauldron exploded. That bloody moron who they’ve got working beside me didn’t tend his fire properly and he managed to get boiling liquid all over my forearms.” Severus held his arms up so that she could inspect the damage. Lily frowned and gently stroked his bandaged left arm. Severus was barely able to keep himself from shuddering. Even he couldn’t bring himself to touch what lay beneath.

“Poor Severus. You do get put through the mill at that place, don’t you? Why don’t you come and work at the Ministry? They have much better health and safety.”

Severus snorted. “And end up working for a bunch of bumbling fools who can’t even master the most basic of Potions skills? No thanks!”

Lily poked him in the side. “Those are my superiors that you’re talking about! Show some respect.”

Severus felt the corners of his lips twitching. “What? As much respect as you showed them last weekend? I’m still surprised they didn’t fire you straight away.”

Lily flushed and Severus had a hard time not staring. “Well, I was feeling a bit off colour. I’d just discovered...” She trailed off. “Sev?”

“Hmm?” he responded lazily as he pulled her into a gentle embrace.

“I- well, I…” Lily reached up and kissed the underside of his jaw, making Severus feel both strong and protective. “I love you.”

The feeling disappeared. All that was left was a cold, hard, aching terror in Severus’ gut.

Love? When did that happen?

People in love always put their partner first. People in love have no secrets from each other…

Severus swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. How many times had he cancelled meetings with Lily to meet with the Dark Lord? He cared desperately about Lily, but he carried secrets that would rip their relationship apart like rice paper. And what’s more, it would hurt her.

“Sev?”

Lily deserved a stable, loving husband and a beautiful home filled with happy children. Severus could give her none of these. A life with Severus would mean fear, shame, desperation, and eventually contempt. He could never make her happy. Not once the thin façade of glamour he had created around his life was pushed aside to reveal what he truly was; a murderer and a fraud. He was a man who earned his living off making potions that could kill hundreds and selling them to the Dark Lord. He was a man who had tortured and killed a Muggle woman just because his cronies had egged him on and he had laughed about it afterwards. The fact that he’d been as sick as a dog for days afterwards meant nothing. He’d still done it.

Severus had never deserved Lily. It was time to stop deluding himself that he one day would.

“Severus? Say something.”

His teeth were clenched and he could tell that his eyes were blazing with cold rage. Sometimes Severus surprised himself with how well he could act. He forced himself to wrench his arm from around her and push her roughly away.

“Severus?” Her bright, green eyes were wide. “What’s the matter? I thought you cared at least a little about me...”

Of course I do. How could I not? I adore you, you lovely creature. If only I could tell you that.

“I most certainly do not! I have indulged this dalliance long enough. You say you love me? You know nothing about me, woman!”

Lily frowned and tried to move closer to him once more. “Sev? I didn’t mean to upset you so. I don’t mind that you don’t feel the same.” She shrugged a shoulder, feigning nonchalance, and some of her red hair tumbled free, making Severus long to touch it. “So! We can go to that amateur Quidditch game we heard about next week if you like. I can get tickets off my boss – she owes me a favour anyway.”

So innocent... What are you thinking to even wish to be in the same room as me?

“You foolish girl.” He made sure the words were as said as coldly and slowly as they could be, knowing it would hurt her. It always hurt her if someone implied she was stupid. “Do you really think I would wish to be seen in public with a Mudblood?” He spat the last word as though it were poison.

Lily slowly turned around and walked towards the front door of her flat, not looking at Severus once. Severus had never been so fearful in his life, nor so hurt that Lily would believe just a few harsh words over two whole years of affection… well, as much affection as Severus had been able to give. But Lily had always been delicate, had always been so easily hurt by sharp phrases said in moments of anger.

That was why Severus had to do this; why he had to drive her away, because if he was selfish and kept her by his side, a life with Severus would destroy her. He was sure of it. But then, Lily surprised him.

“I did wonder when you were going to tell me.” She turned to face him and Severus suddenly found it very hard to meet her eye. “Diffindo!” Severus didn’t even think about reaching for his wand, which proved to be a grave error.

The bandages around his left arm fell away, revealing the ugly skull and snake pattern. Severus gasped and slammed his hand over it. What was she going to do now? Call the Aurors? Bind him and hand him straight over to the Dementors? He deserved it. Lord knows, he deserved it.

“I thought so.” She pursed her lips and slipped her wand inside her robe. “Honestly, Severus, I thought you had more wits than that. A potions accident? An excuse like that only works once.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot stay in a relationship with a Death Eater.”

Severus couldn’t look at her anymore, so he turned his gaze to the bedspread, but that didn’t stop her talking.

“Before, when I didn’t actually have proof, I used my own discretion. Similarly if you had showed me your Mark and shown some remorse or shame for your actions while doing it, I would have stayed with you. But like this?” Severus saw Lily shake her head from the corner of his eyes. “Like this, you might now try and say anything to convince me to stay with you.” Her voice took on a sad lilt. “Like this, I would never know if you were truly a Death Eater or not. I can’t read you, Sev, not like you can me.”

A soft sigh, then even softer footsteps over to where he was standing and a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead. “I still love you, you know. Probably always will…” She looked into his eyes and brushed her thumb across his Dark Mark. “I’ll leave you to let yourself out, love.”

And then she was gone, leaving Severus alone in the flat. At least, Severus had thought she had.

For he only heard the snick of the door after he had softly whispered the words “I love you, too,” to the dusty floorboards. 

What hurt Severus the most about this memory was that she had never come back, not even after she had heard. Lily, bless her, had meant every word she said, just as she always had.

He hadn’t heard anything of her for three months after that, and the next time he did, it was only because of the advertisement in the paper saying that she was married to James Potter. Severus remembered thinking at the time that ‘always will’ hadn’t lasted very long. And ten months after that, she had given birth to a little boy who was the spitting image of his ‘father’, with only Lily’s green eyes to distinguish him. Severus had loathed that baby, because Lily would never have left her marriage if there was even the slightest possibility that it would put her child at risk.

Now Severus knew better, or he thought he did. He hadn’t even considered that the baby might be his own. After all, you don’t see women who are thirteen months pregnant waddling around the streets, not even magical streets. However, Severus had forgotten one important factor; if a witch discovered she was pregnant before she was even a month along, the foetus could be suspended in stasis for a period of up to five months. It was well within the possibility that this was exactly what Lily had done. After all, the proof had been clinging to Severus not even an hour ago.

His son.

And it was only now that he realised how close Lily had come that day to telling him about her pregnancy.

 So that’s why you did it, Lily. You knew that I would never leave you alone if I knew you’d had my child, so you erected barriers around yourself; the stasis spell to throw me off the scent, James Potter because he was the one person who both adored you and was prepared to fight tooth and nail to keep me away from you, and finally you used the most dangerous and most effective spell you can cast on a child to hide who his real father was.

Were you really that sure I was a Death Eater, Lily? Well… I suppose I was at that time. I was still a child, while you had grown up. I’m sorry, Lily, I was a fool, but I swear to you that I’ll protect our son with everything I have. I would have anyway, even if he weren’t mine…

The peculiar pain squeezed his chest again, only this time it burned his left forearm as well. Severus gasped and bolted upright, ripping his sleeve away from his arm and reaching for his wand. What kind of devil sorcery is this… oh.

The Dark Mark fizzed with a pale, golden light and then, slowly rising off his arm, the skull and the snake pattern dissolved in front of him and the gold particles swirled around each other into a new, much larger form.

The sable representation of Lily leaned forward and pressed its lips to his forehead, like the real version had so many years ago. Severus gasped as he felt the remnants of her magic spark against his skin. The image sat back on her heels and smiled at him, and he found himself smiling back, just a little.

The smile on her face broadened and she disappeared in a shower of bright sparks, leaving her image burned onto his retina long after the magic had faded completely.

Blinking, he stared down at his blank forearm, hardly able to believe. But he had to believe. His magic was sparking and roiling within him; free for the first time in years, making him feel refreshed and alive as the dark blue tendrils darted over one another, eager to be used.

“Lil, what have you done?” he asked his arm in delighted bemusement. He thought that it was about time to admit, if only to himself, that Lily had been a much more powerful witch than anyone had bargained for. A chuckle broke free of his lips before he could stop it, followed closely by another and another until he was lying flat on his back, laughing harder than he had believed possible.

Lily had believed in him, but, knowing him as well as she had, she’d known it would take him quite a while to admit his faults. And so, she’d cast a featly spell on him.

This spell had linked him to his then unborn son, so that whenever the child expressed loyalty towards him, Severus would feel a manifestation of that loyalty. The peculiar pains he’d been having in his chest suddenly made startling sense to him.

And now, when Severus had finally sworn unconditional loyalty towards his child and meant it, Lily’s spell had released him from the Dark Mark. For, in Lily’s eyes, loving your child could never be considered the mark of an evil person, and so the person who felt such love should never have to bear such an evil symbol.

Severus had finally proved to her, after all those years, that he was not a Death Eater.

A sad smile touched his lips as he lay back after he’d finished laughing. Severus had lost Lily, and Severus’ son had lost someone else dear to him earlier that very same day. But wasn’t the apparition of Lily’s long dormant magic proof that no one was lost forever? He was still fearful about his new role in Harry’s life, and every time the boy had called him ‘Dad’, it had sent a jolt through him that made him want to flinch, but somehow, Lily’s apparition had calmed him and he felt almost ready to face whatever came next.

Comforted by the thought, Severus rose from the bed and left his room to try and start the day for the second time, hopefully more successfully than he had before. Somehow, he felt certain that he and Harry would one day meet their loved ones again. After all, anyone with Lily’s blood was nothing if not persistent.

A family of three stumbled along the pavement of one of London’s many roads. They were laughing and talking joyously, relieved to finally be almost home after so long away. Their clothes were ragged and their faces dirty, but they still smiled and let their loud voices echo out into the night.

It had taken them three days after their captors had disappeared to work up enough courage to slip out of the cell where they had been held, and out into the countryside. It had taken them another two to reach a town and take a bus back into London; luckily, the people who had been masquerading as their clients had not taken their money, having had no use for it. They had got many, many strange looks for their dishevelled state and had been turned out of four cafes before they’d been able to get any food, but none of that mattered now that they were almost home.

Yet another person opened an upstairs window and yelled at them to keep it down, but once again they paid them no heed, continuing to talk and laugh loudly amongst themselves.

The grown man felt someone reach out and tap him on the shoulder and he grunted, halting his wife and son before turning to face the people who had stopped them.

Three screams of terror rent the night before they were abruptly cut off.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

That week and a half before term started was the worst in Harry’s life. Granted, it could have been a whole lot worse, but it was still pretty bad. Harry spent a lot of time moping around the house, not answering anyone’s letters and trying his damndest not to cry every time he saw his reflection. He looked practically identical to how Shadow had been, now. High cheekbones, a slight kink in the nose, sharp chin and of course the long, soft, brown hair whose colour, Snape said, was halfway between his own and Harry’s mother’s. It was a blessing not to have to wear glasses anymore, but Harry would have traded his very eyes for one more day with Shadow.

He had to constantly remind himself that the boy on the other side of the glass – any glass – was not Shadow; he had no scar on his cheek. But there still were days when he half expected his reflection to talk back to him. It was like he’d woken from a dream… or descended into a nightmare.

The only thing that kept him afloat surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, was Snape. The man neither tried to get him to talk about his feelings, nor tried to push him into accepting any other human contact. He seemed to understand that Harry could not cope with that yet.

The only thing he did do was to regularly drag Harry out of his room for meals, and for chores that Harry felt sure Snape could have done easily by magic. The one time Harry had tried to defy Snape by ignoring his summons all together and continuing to stare blankly at the wall, Snape had simply told him that if he found the wall so interesting, he could come downstairs, stand in the corner of Snape’s study and examine the wall there. Sulky as Harry had been, he hadn’t wanted to end up standing pointlessly for hours on end, so he’d come downstairs, grumbling as he went until he was silenced by a glare from his father.

“If you don’t wish to talk about that which is troubling you-” Snape had managed to get out before his son interrupted him.

“I’m fine!” Harry had snapped, earning him a second glare.

“-then you have nothing to complain about. It is only your own stubbornness that is making you so miserable. If you don’t have anything productive to say, then don’t say anything at all.”

Harry had clicked his jaw shut and fumed silently, while mentally admitting that Snape had a point. Harry had been increasingly nasty to the man, and he was still stunned at how lenient Snape was being of his bad behaviour. In fact, the more bad-tempered Harry tried to be, the more Snape found for him to do, no matter how pointless the task was. Things like memorising his school texts before Snape quizzed him on them. Or things like helping in the Potions lab, which Snape wouldn’t even have considered letting Harry do before.

There was even one occasion when Snape had threatened to make him clean the Owlery with a toothpick unless he paid attention. That had distracted Harry for a blissful ten minutes, during which time he had tried to argue with Snape that there was no way that you could clean anything with a toothpick. Snape had won.

Harry both blessed and cursed Snape for his attention, knowing that it wasn’t good for him to hide away in his room, but longing to be left alone to feel miserable.

On the morning of August the thirtieth, Snape appeared at Harry’s door and called, “Come along, Harry,” as usual. And, as usual, Harry pulled himself out of bed and followed Snape, only pausing long enough to let his magic change his clothes and clean his teeth for him. Doing magic this way somehow made Harry feel closer to Shadow, and Snape’s only condition was that he’d always use his wand in public when he got back to Hogwarts. The wand in question now lay in Harry’s right pocket, though Snape had decided he didn’t want to reveal the location of the Invisibility Cloak yet.

Harry supposed he could fetch it for himself using his magic, but he felt strangely reluctant. Outside from using his power to complete the odd, mundane task, Harry was finding that it was much harder to manipulate these days. Snape had assured him that it was because his magical core healing itself after the ordeal it had gone through, but Harry wasn’t sure. There seemed to be a lot less of it these days.

Snape led him down the stairs, but didn’t double back left and go down the passageway towards the kitchen as he usually did. Harry stopped three steps from the bottom of the staircase and blinked at his father as he was torn from his musings.

“Well, Potter?” For some reason, his dad had continued to call him this even after the truth had come out. Only this time, instead of it being snapped out like a vile insult, it was voiced as if it were some fond nickname. Harry had come to the conclusion that his father was more than a little odd when it came to giving affection.

“Well what, Dad?” The new, almost terrifying word helped him to forget he was grieving for a little while, so he said it as often as possible. Strangely, after the first few days, Snape hadn’t seemed to mind. Harry was relieved that the older man had stopped twitching every time Harry used the title.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Snape handed Harry his coat and pulled on his own cloak before turning to the boy with one eyebrow raised. Sometimes, Snape could be far too stubborn.

“Fine!” Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Where are we going, then?”

Snape smirked. “Albus has a little surprise for you that he thought you might appreciate…”

“What? He thinks one of my familiars is a danger to my health, so they have to be killed too?” Harry snapped as he marched out the front door which Snape was holding open. “Well, thanks, but no thanks, I think!”

Snape sighed and fell into step beside him as they strode towards the Manor’s gates, but didn’t say anything to address the rudeness for once. Harry supposed it was because Snape had actually managed to get him out of the house without too much trouble, though Harry was puzzled as to why the man hadn’t fed him. He was normally adamant about Harry getting enough nutrition.

“Have you ever Apparated?”

“No,” Harry said, probably sounding as sulky as he felt.

“Then I shall try to make the experience – mostly – painless.”

Harry shot Snape a sharp look, but as usual, the man had his poker face on and Harry couldn’t discern anything.

Snape closed the gates behind them and pulled Harry close. “It’ll be all right,” he murmured into Harry’s hair. “You’ll like this surprise, I’m sure. Besides, I had a hand in this one myself…”

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus grasped Harry tightly as they appeared in Little Whinging; the boy was gasping and shivering at the alien sensation of being Apparated. Severus supposed he should have told him that Apparating with your mouth open tended to make your ears feel like they’d fallen off your head. Oh well, he knows now…

When he had recovered, Harry turned to glare at him. “You could have warned me!” he snapped, rubbing his ears hard.

Severus raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to sigh. “I seem to recall that I already did. And watch your tone, young man.” This constantly bad-tempered version of Harry was really getting on Severus’ nerves, but it was far better compared to seeing the lost, miserable look on the boy’s face when he remembered why he was in a bad mood. Severus hoped that what he was going to show Harry would give him something else to think about.

“Well, I didn’t think you were being serious…”

“The imperfection is yours.” Severus led them out of the bushes at the back of Mrs Figg’s garden and down the side path, out into Privet Drive.

“Hey!” Harry halted abruptly. “What are we doing here?” Severus saw the worry start in the boy’s eyes as he chewed his lip and wondered what on Earth had gotten into Harry now.

“We’re going to have breakfast,” Severus told him, eager to get this over and done with.

“I...um,” Harry looked at his feet, appearing utterly dejected, “you aren’t taking me back, are you, sir?” The hands had started twitching in his clothes again.

“Potter... What?” He almost groaned as the realisation hit him; he should have known that Harry would take it this way. “Certainly not.”

Shaking his head, he strode forwards, confidently expecting Harry to follow him.

He did. “So… You’re not taking me back? Even though I’ve been behaving really awfully this past week?”

Severus’ heart squeezed when he heard the plaintive note in Harry’s words.

“Stupid boy,” he snapped, not looking back. “You’re my son, I’m not about to trade you in just because you’ve had a bloody awful week.” Somehow, Severus could tell that Harry was smiling.

Strange boy – these days the only time he cheers up is when I insult him. I dread to think what classes with him will be like. I may be able to act how I please now, but that doesn’t mean I want students smiling at me during lessons; it would completely ruin my reputation!

Severus stopped at the front door of the Dursleys’ house and raised his hand to knock.

“Um, sir?”

He lowered his hand and looked down at the boy fidgeting beside him. “Yes, Harry?”

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” The irritating child bit his lip again. “I mean, they really hate magic and they would just spend most of their time insulting us while trying to hide behind each other…”

Severus smirked. “I think I can quite safely say that none of your predictions will be seen today. The Dursleys have undergone… a behavioural management program.”

Harry’s face was one giant question mark. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll see,” Severus said, and knocked.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

The door swung open to reveal Aunt Petunia, whose eyes went wide when she saw who, or maybe what, was standing on her doorstep.

And then, the strangest thing happened.

She stepped back, opened the door wide and bowed them in. Harry felt like his eyes were about to fall out of their sockets, but he obediently followed his dad through the open door and into the hallway. Aunt Petunia shut the door behind them and respectfully averted her eyes to the floor.

“May I take your coats, sirs?” Harry handed her his with numb fingers, feeling like he had just stepped into the Twilight Zone. Yes, there was his cupboard where it always had been, the slight scratches in the door were Dudley had run the house keys along it when Harry was locked in there. And yes, the rest of the house looked exactly as he remembered it, but the person standing in front of him was behaving nothing like the Aunt Petunia he knew.

“Harry.” Harry gulped and realised he had been staring. He looked up at his father with confused eyes. The smirk and self-satisfied expression on the man’s face was enough to convince Harry that he knew exactly what was going on.

Determined to suss out what was happening, Harry followed Snape into the kitchen where yet another strange sight met him. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were standing next to the sideboards; Dudley by a large, steaming pot of tea and Vernon next to a large platter of breakfast foods. To Harry’s further surprise, they also looked much slimmer, much more like the people they were meant to be instead of whales masquerading as human beings.

Finally Harry’s eyes fell on the last person in the room; Albus Dumbledore. The old man was comfortably seated at the kitchen table, cheerfully sipping away at a mug of tea held almost carelessly in his left hand.

“Harry, my boy!” Dumbledore smiled and raised his cup in a salute. “Why don’t you come and join us for breakfast?”

“I… um.” Harry realised that while he had been staring, Snape had taken a seat to the right of Dumbledore. Trying to be as composed as his father, Harry tried to slide into the chair opposite Dumbledore, but was startled once again as Dudley hurried forward and pulled it out for him. “Um, thanks,” he mumbled at the table, before managing to gather his courage and sit up straight. This was rather hard to do while Uncle Vernon was serving them all croissants.

“Professor Dumbledore?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Could you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Ah, well.” Dumbledore placed his mug on the table and laced his fingers together. “Professor Snape and I learned that your relatives had been... less than pleasant to you during all the years you had been staying here, so we decided to pay them a visit and,” the twinkle turned to steel, “teach them some manners.”

“But only after releasing them from the Malfoys first…” Dad grumbled into his coffee, waving away Dudley and the teapot.

“The… Malfoys…” Of course! After coming here solely for the purpose of kidnapping me, the Malfoys weren’t about to just say “Oh, sorry!” and walk away once they found me missing. Oh dear… Harry had a very hard time suppressing a smirk.

“Yes, we did have to track down the Malfoys and arrest them after Lucius escaped from Severus’ spells and kidnapped the Dursleys… but we decided to let you relatives find their own way home.”

Every single one of the Dursleys flinched.

“So, the day I had the broom accident, you were actually rounding up Death Eaters?” Harry stared at his father with more than a little awe.

“I suppose it was easy enough once we got past the Manor’s guards; peacocks do have very sharp beaks.”

“Excuse me?”

“And so now, Malfoy senior and his dear wife are languishing in Azkaban and their son is being looked after by our esteemed Headmaster,” Snape finished off. Dumbledore smirked and raised his mug again.

Harry snorted, and tried not to burst out laughing. The idea of ‘Draco’ being forced to spend his holidays with a man he had been disdainful of many times in the past was priceless. The fact that Harry’s father hadn’t invited Malfoy to stay at Tharabraye, when he clearly favoured him as a student, set a warm glow in Harry’s heart.

“And the Dursleys?”

“Oh, they managed to travel to within two streets of here,” Dumbledore said, waving his hand airily. “Of course, we accosted them before they could get any further.”

“Oh, of course,” Harry laughed. “But- you didn’t… hurt them or anything?” For some reason, Harry balked at the very idea of harm coming to the people who raised him; even Uncle Vernon. Strangely, the idea that the large man could be hurt sent chills down Harry’s spine – he knew how nasty it could be to feel truly powerless. Glancing at the man standing to the left of him, Harry wondered if there was something wrong with him.

“Nothing permanent, I’m afraid.” Dumbledore looked very much like he wished otherwise. “We simply decided, in the end, that teaching them all proper manners would be much more beneficial in the long run.” The old man raised his eyes to glare at the Dursleys and they all flinched. Harry felt his eyebrows rise. What on Earth did they do to them to provoke such a reaction? On second thoughts, I don’t want to know.

“Oh yes! I remember now. Severus, here is the thing you requested,” Dumbledore exclaimed, causing Harry to jump. The old man reached into his voluminous robe and pulled out a tightly furled roll of parchment. Snape took it, unrolled it negligently and quickly signed something at the bottom. Harry tried to peer around the edge of the parchment, but Snape caught him at it and gave him a disapproving look.

“If I wished you to know what this was, I would have shown you myself.”

Harry sank lower in his chair. “Sorry, sir.” For some reason, being back in Privet Drive had reminded him that life was possible even without Shadow, which was probably exactly what Snape had intended. However, it did have the unfortunate side effect of bringing his natural curiosity back in full.

He was dying to know what was on that parchment and he couldn’t have been more delighted when Snape passed it to him a second later. The grin fell off his face when he realised what it was.

Adoption papers.

“Uh... I, uh... I didn’t think we needed these?” Harry swallowed to try and get rid of his dry throat, but it didn’t seem to be working.

Dumbledore leaned forward and smiled when it seemed that Snape was disinclined to raise his head. “Ah, well, technically you are still a ward of the Dursleys. If the Ministry was to pull itself together anytime soon, they would have the power to remove you from Severus’ care, despite the two of you being close blood relations. So, you see, if you agree to signing this, then there will be no chance of you returning here against your will.”

Harry had signed the papers before Dumbledore had even finished speaking. Harry watched in astonishment as the name beside his signature changed from Harry Potter to Harry Snape. He was a bit annoyed that it had changed his name without him asking, but if it got him away from the Dursleys forever, it would be worth it. Besides, what good was it to carry a dead man’s name when your own living, breathing father was sitting directly across the table from you? Still, it would take quite a bit of getting used to.

“So...” Harry peeped up at Dumbledore, “I’m a Snape now?”

“Not quite.” The old man smiled. “Petunia?”

Harry’s Aunt stepped forward, looking rather uncertain. “Yes, sir?”

“If you would be so kind to sign these papers, it would take... how did you put it?... an unnecessary burden off your hands.”

Aunt Petunia at least had the grace to blush as she signed the parchment with a kitchen biro. The papers glowed a soft white and quickly vanished in a puff of smoke. Harry gulped as he noticed that his father was giving Aunt Petunia the evil eye.

“You’re lucky that my son takes more after your dearly departed sister, Petunia. Otherwise, you and your family would be a lot worse off than you are now.”

The woman flushed and stepped back, her head bowed either in shame or fear, and Harry felt a little niggle of guilt start in his stomach. She had only shown him the barest scraps of kindness, but that was more than Uncle Vernon or Dudley ever had. Harry sighed as he realised he could not blame her for being afraid of her husband; after all, he was guilty of the same fear himself.

“Aunt Petunia?”

She flinched and looked up.

“Thank you... um, for signing, I mean.”

She nodded tightly and her eyes flickered over to where Snape and Dumbledore were preparing to leave. “Wait!”

They all watched in astonishment as she turned and ran out of the room. Dudley and Vernon squirmed and stared at their feet, obviously wishing for her speedy return, but it was almost ten minutes before they heard their feet coming down the stairs again.

“Here,” she breathlessly shoved a dusty, wooden box into Snape’s hands; it was about a handspan in length, “Lily wanted me to send this to either one of you before the Winter Solstice of this year. She said that it would open then.” She snuck a last glance at Harry before sighing and leaving the room, her shoulders lifting visibly with relief.

The next second, he felt himself tugged into his father’s side and Apparated away from the Dursleys’ regimented kitchen so fast that he didn’t even think to protest at the lack of warning. Luckily, it seemed to be easier on him than the last time.

Snape gently released him and tucked the mysterious box under his arm. It was only now that Harry realised that they were back home and that Dumbledore was nowhere in sight.

“So, Harry,” his father murmured as they strode back up the slight incline to the gates of their Manor, “what did you think? Was it a satisfying castigation that was visited upon those ghastly Muggles? I’d be more than happy to pay them another visit if you found their punishment lacking in any way…”

Harry smiled slightly. “No, I think you spooked them out enough. After all, I never have to live them again, do I?”

“Never,” Snape agreed, a fierce look coming over his face. “Never, Harry.”

“Ah, good.” Harry felt as though a massive weight had just been lifted off his shoulders by simply hearing the words. “Good, ‘cos I’d miss my dad too much, otherwise.”

“Hmm, don’t think that flattery is going to get you out of finishing your assignments!”

“But, Da-a-ad!”

“No! You have only today and tomorrow left to finish them and then you have to pack. I refuse to let my own child be so tardy with his work!”

Harry sighed heavily. “Fine! I’ll do it!” He looked up at his dad and grinned. It was wonderful to have an adult genuinely care about how well you did in class.

“You’ll have to catch me first, though!” Harry yelled and pelted off towards the orchard, where he hoped to hide behind some of the twisted trunks of the apple trees.

Shadow may not be here anymore, but he would have wanted this. He would have wanted this… for me. Bless him, I’ll always miss him, but maybe, one day, I’ll get to see him again.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus watched Harry run off, hiding a smile behind his hand as he saw his son laughing for the first time in days. I’d never thought it would be so easy, he thought as he Accio-ed the back of Harry’s coat, making him sail back towards the Potions Master, to truly feel happy.

The next second, Harry tumbled into a heap on the ground by Severus, still laughing as the older man grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to his feet.

Shadow opened his eyes and blinked blearily several times to clear his vision. The view did not change. Bright white mist surrounded him, its tendrils curling off in every direction like an impenetrable wall of silence.

He sighed in vague relief as he recognised the Mirrorverse – the vast space surrounding him – the place where he had appeared when he first became a separate person from Harry, a mere two and a half weeks ago. This time it looked very different compared to how it usually was. This time, there were no mirrors hanging like windows to another world within this great, open space.

This time, the mist was absolute.

Shadow slowly pulled himself to his feet and dusted his shabby clothes off, wondering how in the hell he had managed to get there when he was supposed to be dead. The last thing he remembered was Harry looking panicked and struggling to get to him, then there was a moment of blankness, of absolute and unexplainable puzzlement – a time in which he'd said something or done something but had no idea what it was. There had been an old man - Dumbledore, he realised now - who had pointed his wand at him and said some words...

Shadow gulped and rubbed his forehead, remembering the sudden pain - as if the mirror itself had rejected him, slamming him back from the surface and flinging him... somewhere.

How did I get into the Mirrorverse? How am I not dead? Groaning, he hid his face in his hands, trying to ignore the headache that was making it near impossible for him to think. The Obliviate. How come I can remember? It’s impossible! This is so confusing...

All he knew for certain was that he was on his own and had no plausible way of letting his twin know that he was all right.

He glanced around briefly and started walking, hoping that it would clear his mind enough to allow him to think – there was no point in trying to remember directions in this place, everywhere was the same here. The mirrors in the other world would normally reflect back-to-front representations of the world outside into the Mirrorverse, mostly allowing the people living within it to use whatever was in the reflected room. Now there was nothing for as far as the eye could see; nothing there for people to orient themselves with.

Well, person.

As far as he could tell, Shadow was alone here – a fearful idea which he did not want to think about. Not yet. Before he’d always had Harry, even when they hadn’t been separate identities; there had always been a feeling that he was not alone in the world. Now, he could almost feel the Mirrorverse pressing in on him, mocking him. This time, there was only him.

But wasn’t that what I wanted? Shadow thought bitterly. Didn’t I want to get as far away from Harry as I could so I wouldn’t hurt him anymore? I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want to hurt him anymore. But if that was the case, why now do I want nothing more to go back, see Harry again, tell him I’m OK...

Shadow had been terrified of death – after all, there’s no such thing as a heaven for reflections. However, at the time a small part of him had wondered if Dumbledore had got it right – if all Shadow really was, was a fractured part of Harry’s mind. He didn’t feel like that. He felt real to himself; he felt real to Harry, so he had taken a chance – had willingly subjected himself to Dumbledore’s spell to see if he really was nothing more than Harry’s alter.

Well, now he had his answer; the spell hadn’t worked and once more, Shadow didn’t have a clue about who he was, what he was, why he had appeared to Harry in the first place or why he remembered every detail of what Harry had witnessed in his young life as if he, Shadow, was the one who had experienced it.

And because of his curiosity, Shadow was trapped in this endless dreamscape, completely alone.

Shadow stopped walking, breathing heavily. No. “No! I refuse to accept that!” he shouted defiantly into the silence, his voice echoing through the empty space.

He threw his head back and glared up through the sparkling mists. Harry. Harry will save me, I know he will. He’ll know I’m not dead and come to rescue me ‘cos he’ll know something’s wrong. I know he will…

A determined smile curled at his lips and Shadow strode forward into the mist, which temporarily parted around him before falling back into place as though he had never been. The Mirrorverse muffled his footsteps until they were completely silent.

No more sounds were heard and no more disturbances rippled the slowly swirling mist, until any person looking upon it might as well have been blind for all the variety it showed.

Harry will save me…