Harry could feel the hot tears prickle at his eyes. He ripped his glasses off his face, and winced at the throbbing in his eye. A dark, yellow and purple bruise was beginning to form around his eye. He wiped his glasses with the sleeve of his jacket. It didn't help. They were still smudged from being fogged up by the rain. The ancient trunk bumped over the uneven pavement, and the dampness gnawed at his fingers.

Harry shivered, but not from the cold, as he came upon the park at the corner of the street. The heavy winds whipped the turn-about around, and the creaking of the heavy chains of the swings rocking back and forth, wrenched the night air.

He sat his weary body down on the curb, and hugged his knees tightly, while resting his chin atop them.

The wind swirled around him, whipping dried, wet leaves through the air. He began trembling, and hugged himself tighter to stop the bitter, damp air from penetrating his thin, hooded jacket.

In the distance, he could still hear Aunt Marge's shrill screams as she floated further and further away.

Harry clenched his fists, and tried to calm his fury from rising again to overwhelm him.

He hated that cow. It was bad enough that he'd had to endure Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia's snide comments about what a freak he was, how his parents were useless freaks, but to have his Aunt Marge desecrate the memory of his parents in such a manner. Well that was just unacceptable. He hated the lot of them, and even though he knew that he'd probably be in big trouble for using magic, he wasn't sorry that he'd blown his aunt up.

Harry was starting to feel a little scared now though. Where was he going to go? He had no one to turn to. He was quite certain that Dumbledore would be peeved with him for running away like that, and he wasn't sure if even Mrs. Weasley would approve of the fact that not only had he run away from home, but he had blown up his aunt, like a balloon.

Before he could properly examine his feelings of anguish and anxiety however, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

He heard the rustling of leaves. His heart began to race, and he wiped his sweaty palms on the rough fabric of his jeans.

Okay, calm down Harry. It's just your imagination. It's probably just one of the many stray cats that wandered Magnolia Crescent, prowling through the trash bins for food.

Harry almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a low growling coming from the bushes.

Two dark, glittering charcoal eyes stared back at him.

Harry jumped back and rubbed his bruised tail-bone after scraping it on the hard cement of the curb.

Suddenly, Harry's eyes widened in shock when a pair of bright headlights that belonged to a violently purple triple-deckered bus appeared out of nowhere and came dangerously close to where he lay sprawled on the pavement.

Suddenly, the doors swung opened and a thin, pimply-faced young man, only a few years older than Harry himself, dressed in a garishly purple conductor's uniform, stared down his long nose at Harry.

"What'cha doin down there?"

Harry looked up at him indignantly.

"Fell over," he grumbled.

"What'cha do that for?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"Oh well, that's okay then."

He put out an arm to Harry and helped the young man to his feet. Harry stared down at his torn jeans, and winced at the sting in his cut and bloodied hand.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. My name's Stan Shuntpike, and I'll be your conductor for this evening."

"Really?" Harry's hopes rose. Maybe if he went to London, he could find a place to stay until he could sort things out.

"How much to go to London?" Harry asked uncertainly. He wasn't sure how much Wizarding money he had in his trunk.

"Eleven sickles, but for fifteen you could have a cuppa hot-chocolate.” Stan peered closely at Harry. "What's that on your head," he asked suspiciously.

Harry panicked. He hadn't considered that someone might recognize him. He patted down his fringe to hide his scar, and answered quickly, "Nothing."

Stan still looked at him suspiciously though. "What's your name?"

Harry scrambled around for the first name that he could think of. "Neville Longbottom," he stuttered.

"Hmm, okay so Neville, have a seat."

Harry's eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. Take a seat? There were no seats. There were only a half-a-dozen brass bedsteads that stood beside the curtained windows. There were brackets beside each bed, with a candle in each one, illuminating the wood-paneled walls of the bus.

Stan shoved Harry's trunk under a bed, and motioned to the young man to have a seat on the nearest bed.

"Oh, and hold on tight. Ernie has a bit of a heavy hand," he chuckled.

He turned to the driver, who was rather elderly and frail-looking, and small, beady eyes peered back through thick, heavy lenses.

"Take it away, Ern."

Heavy hand? He has to be bloody kidding, Harry thought, as he clutched onto the metal pole with both hands in a death grip. His lip was still tender where the hot chocolate had scalded it, when he had futilely tried to sip it as they were winding through the busy streets of London, squeezing in between lorries, and cars at breakneck speeds.

Ow! The pain radiated through his aching forehead when the hard metal made contact with it.

Harry was trying to figure out how Stan could sit there, so relaxed reading the Daily Prophet, not a hair out of place. He didn't even seemed unnerved as Ernie took the next turn at the speed of lightning and the tray cart rolled back and forth down the aisle of the bus.

"Hey, who's that man?" Harry exclaimed at seeing a sunken-faced man with maniacal eyes, and long stringy black hair staring back at him from the front page.

Stan peered at Harry over the top of the newspaper.

"That's Sirius Black, that is."

"I saw him on the Muggle news," Harry said thoughtfully.

Indeed, when Harry had walked into the kitchen this morning, he caught the tail-end of the news reader's report, "...The public is warned that he is armed and dangerous. ...We are setting up a hotline..."

"What did he do?" asked Harry curiously.

Stan slapped the newspaper down abruptly on his lap.

He looked at Harry wide-eyed. "What did he do--you ask?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"He killed thirteen people, he did. In broad daylight!"

Shivers tingled down Harry's spine.

"He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who. I reckon I don't have to tell you who he is?"

"No," Harry whispered quietly.

Stan went back to reading the newspaper and Harry grappled onto the rung of his bed as the bus continued to rock back and forth and bump over the cobblestone streets of London.

"Where you want to go in London?" Stan asked suddenly.

Harry had to think quickly. "Diagon Alley.”

He figured he could go to Gringotts tomorrow. He thought that he had enough to get a place at least for the night, and probably a small meal. He was looking forward to a hot bath, and resting his battered and sore body. Uncle Vernon, after seeing that capturing Aunt Marge was a hopeless case, had come after him with fists flailing. Harry hadn't even had a chance to brandish his wand, because the bigger man had knocked him and the wand to the ground. Harry didn't think that there was a spot on him that wasn't bruised.

Harry sighed in relief when the bus skidded to a halt in front of a pub called The Leaky Cauldron, which was right behind Diagon Alley.

"There you go, Neville," Stan said to Harry as he retrieved Harry's trunk from under the bed, and carried it down the stairs of the bus for him.

"Uh, thanks Stan, Ernie," Harry said thankfully; and Harry was bloody thankful to have arrived with more or less all his limbs still intact.

Harry's gut twisted again with anxiety. He knew that he couldn't have stayed with the Dursleys any longer, but he could feel the fear once again seeping into his mind. Dumbledore was going to eventually find out, and the Ministry as well. What would happen to him? He thought with a thrill of fear. Would they send him to Azkaban? Would they try to send him back to the Dursleys? No, he thought vehemently. He was never going back there. He'd run away again if he had to.

Harry pushed, or rather tried to push open the heavy wood door to the Leaky Cauldron, but a big, black, solid object blocked his way.

"Mr. Potter," a silky voice drawled.

Harry's stomach churned.

His gaze slowly travelled upward and met a pair of dark eyes, glittering with malice.

He gulped. "Professor Snape?"

Severus peered down his hooked nose at the disheveled boy before him. "What may I ask are you doing wandering around the streets of London by yourself?" he sneered

"Uh, I, uh-" Harry scrambled around for a plausible explanation as to why he was standing at the doorway to The Leaky Cauldron, trailing Hedwig's Cage, and a trunk filled with all his worldly possessions. Unfortunately, he came up empty.

" Well? I asked you a question," Severus snapped. "Does your stupidity render you speechless?"

Harry gritted his teeth, and didn't even wince at what felt like a knife piercing the palm of his hand, when he clenched the handle of his trunk with such ferocity that the metal dug into his skin.

Harry felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He'd been barely fed in days, and the beating he'd received from Uncle Vernon, had left him with a tender ribcage. He sucked in a painful breath, and started to totter on his feet.

"Since you seem to have lost your usual capacity to utter absolute dribble, I'll simply take you back to your relatives where you belong," Snape said.

When Severus went to take hold of Harry's arm, he was startled when the boy jumped back violently. He hadn't noticed with the boy standing in the shadows of the night, but when he looked closer he noticed the ugly bruising under the boy's eye, and the scratches on his neck.

Harry's face heat up in shame at his own reaction. No, he wouldn't show fear, especially in front of this man. He tried to put on a brave face, but was certain that he failed pathetically.

Severus studied the obviously frightened child, and made a decision.

This time when he went to take Harry's arm, Harry only stiffened but didn't attempt to pull away. Although he only put a small amount of pressure on the boy's thin arm, he noticed the wince that the boy tried desperately to mask. He retrieved his wand from his robes' pocket, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the heavy weight of the trunk lifted from underneath him.

"Come Potter," Severus said.

He led Harry inside, and Harry felt his face warm up as the loud, boisterous guffawing suspended immediately, and curious eyes followed him to a table in a dark corner.

Snape sat down across from Harry and pierced Harry with his cold, dark eyes.

Harry squirmed under the scrutiny, and sighed in relief when Snape tore his gaze away from Harry to flag down the waitress.

A young girl of about eighteen or nineteen came over. She had china blue eyes and cascades of red-gold curls framing her lovely face. She carried a tray with a parchment on it and bit on the end of her quill. She pulled the quill from between her perfect white teeth, and studied the two wizards curiously.

"What can'I get you sir?" She asked in a thick cockney accent.

"The boy will have the soup, and bread, and-" He studied Harry for a moment. "-and a glass of pumpkin juice."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. The man was actually going to feed him? Who would have thought that the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons would have one up on the Dursleys.

"And anything for you sir?"

By the expression on her face, Harry had to wonder if she thought that he might ask for blood to drink. He did so resemble a vampire with his thick, curtain of greasy hair framing the milky-white complexion, with his long, black robes wrapped around him like a shroud, and from the sour look on Snape's face, he knew damned well what she, and Harry for that matter had been thinking. Harry often thought that the man could read his mind. No one could possibly withstand it when the Dark man bore into you with his piercing obsidian eyes.

"No," Snape snapped. "And be quick about it," he ordered. "We don't have all night."

Harry personally thought that Snape would be wearing the soup if her flashing blue eyes and flushed face were a sign. She simply glared at Snape, in tight-lipped fury however and spun around, stomping her feet and cursing under her breath. If Aunt Petunia heard him use such colourful language, he'd be blowing bubbles from his mouth. Harry was sure that his aunt bought the most foul-tasting washing up liquid that she could find, and saved it with Harry in mind.

Five minutes later, a steaming bowl of soup came floating out of nowhere and lowered itself with a thump onto the polished cherry-wood table, sloshing hot soup over the edges of the bowl.

Harry's mouth watered, as he eyed the thick, vegetable soup. It smelled heavenly, and Harry broke off a piece of thick, hot-buttered homemade crusty bread and dipped it into the soup.

Snape eyed him in disgust.

After two spoonfuls of soup and a couple of bites of bread, Harry's stomach revolted. He hadn't had more than an apple or a piece of bread in days, and the soup, while absolutely delicious, was quite filling and heavy on his empty stomach.

Harry took a couple of swigs of pumpkin juice, and patted his mouth with the heavy cloth napkin.

Harry was waiting for Snape to make some scathing comment about him wasting good food or being an ungrateful spoiled brat, but the man simply stared, studying him intently until Harry wished he'd say something already.

Snape stood up abruptly, rocking the table and clattering the silverware. "Come Potter," he said.

Harry's stomach sunk. "Where are we going?" he asked despondently. Was the man going to force him to go back to the Dursleys, now that he'd been fed? Over my dead body, Harry vowed.

Snape didn't answer, but motioned for Harry to follow him.

Harry nervously followed Snape as his trunk and Hedwig's cage followed along. Harry had let Hedwig out shortly after he ran away, with strict instructions for her to go to the Burrow. Ron would take good care of her. Of course, his plan hadn't been incredibly well-thought out, he thought caustically. He felt a pang of guilt. The Weasleys would have been sick with worry at Harry's owl showing up without him. He hadn't thought, or had the time to write a very lengthy note explaining his situation. Of course, he hadn't been sure how Mr. or Mrs. Weasley would react to his rash behaviour or loss of control.

Although Harry didn't have to carry his heavy trunk, he was beginning to feel quite weary, and slightly dizzy from worry and exhaustion. Not to mention that every time he breathed, he felt a sharp pain as though his ribs were poking through his skin.

Severus stopped suddenly and took in the boy's ashen complexion. He noticed that the boy's chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, and his breathing was ragged and shallow.

"Please sir," Harry gasped, "where are we goi-"

Harry's eyes widened in shock, when Snape suddenly wrapped his arms around Harry, and Harry felt as though he was being sucked through a vacuum tube.

Thankfully, Snape still had a firm grasp on him, when they landed with a thud in front of the black wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts.

Snape held Harry a few more moments, before being obviously satisfied that the boy could stay on his feet.

Harry was almost beginning to wish that Snape would say something. A quiet Snape made him very nervous. A bellowing Snape, he was used to.

But Snape had already spun around and was walking towards the entrance, his long robes swirling and billowing behind him; looking very much the big black vampire-bat of Hogwarts.

Harry felt somewhat soothed, that he obviously wasn't being dragged back kicking and screaming to the Dursleys. He was home. But then fear consumed him once again, as he began to worry that once Dumbledore found out what he'd done, he would insist that Harry return to his relatives. And then there was still the matter of his illegal use of magic...

When Harry realised that Snape was leading him to the hospital wing, he was thoroughly confused.

Severus motioned for him to sit on a bed. "Stay there and stay out of trouble," he said sternly. "I will go find Madame Pomfrey."

Harry wanted to retort, that how much trouble could he possibly get into in an empty hospital wing?

Severus looked back briefly at the boy, and tried not to let James Potter's son, see just how concerned he was at what he'd already determined were possible internal injuries. Severus had held his mask properly in place, but it had been a close call for the disciplined man not to react when he'd realised that Potter had obviously sustained injuries from what appeared to be a severe beating. Severus recognised the look of fear on the boy's face, and the panic in his eyes when he'd obviously thought that Severus was going to return him back to his relatives. He'd already come to the conclusion that there was a good possibility that the boy had been abused. Of course, he tried desperately to think of any other possibility, but Severus knew the signs--all too well.

Harry sat on the bed dangling his legs over the side, feeling small and vulnerable. He didn't want Snape to know anything about his home life. He didn't want anyone to know how his relatives treated him. The last thing he wanted was pity. But there was no way in hell he'd go back.

Harry clutched the crisp, starched bed sheets tightly as his mind raced, and his heart beat loudly beneath his chest.

He could hear whispering and strained his ears to hear better, but to no avail.

Harry tried to still his nervousness, but cold dread and fear made that impossible. Would Dumbledore even give him a chance to explain, or would he simply ship him back to the Dursleys? Harry wasn't one to whine, and he wouldn't beg, but if he didn't tell them about how his relatives treated him, Dumbledore would do like he usually did; pat him on the back, give him a lemon drop and send him on his way. On the other hand, admitting his weakness, admitting his vulnerability, especially in front of the man who had delivered nothing but cruel taunts and scathing comments for the past two years was out of the question.

There was a little voice in the back of his head that reminded Harry that Snape had given him food, helped steady him when he'd been about to pass out, had taken him to his real home to seek comfort, and brought him to the hospital wing instead of dragging him back to his relatives. Still though, he knew hecouldn't trust the man. Maybe he had only brought him here so he would be able to boast to Dumbledore, that he'd done his duty, and now he could wash his hands of the brat-who-lived.

No, Snape was an adult, and a nasty one at that. Harry didn't trust adults. They murmured sweet pleasantries in your ear, assured you that they had your best interest at heart, and then conveniently forgot about you when you really needed them. Besides there had never been any love lost between himself and Snape, and he wasn't about to reveal his deepest fears and secrets to a man who could use them to make his life miserable.

While he did feel that Dumbledore cared about him; that much was obvious, would he believe Harry if he revealed how his relatives treated him, and if he did admit how bad it was at home, would Dumbledore confront the Dursleys and threaten them, but send him back there anyway? His uncle would certainly take it out on his hide then. No! No one could know. One thing that Harry still had was his pride, and he would not tolerate being pitied.

Harry panicked though. There was no way he was going to be able to hide his injuries. He had to think quickly. Maybe he could lie and say that he'd been in a car accident, or he fell down the stairs. Yeah that was it; he would think of a convincing story. But then they'd send you back, his logical mind argued. There was no way out of this. His stomach began to churn again, and the sheets felt moist under his clenched fists.

He had to run. He felt suffocated. He had to get out of here. That was it; that was what he'd do. He jumped off the bed, and looked around wildly for an escape route. Suddenly, he felt foolish. Snape had his trunk, and Hedwig's cage. Where the hell would he go anyway? He was trapped.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry jumped.

He whirled around, his eyes wide and glassy with fear. Snape stood there, with his arms crossed and glaring at him disapprovingly.

"Just what do you think you're doing? Get back on that bed immediately before we have to peel you off the floor, you foolish boy.”

Madame Pomfrey was standing by his side, looking every bit as disapproving, but she rushed over and gently took his frail arm and helped him back on the bed.

"That's a nasty bruise under your eye, Mr. Potter."

Harry flinched when he felt her cool fingers poke and prod the bruised skin.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned when she eyed the angry red scratches on his neck, but it took enormous discipline from her years of training not to show emotion when she had eventually managed to unfurl Harry's clutched fingers from the fabric of his shirt, and she delicately undid the buttons. She gasped. His chest was mottled with bruises, and Harry sucked in a painful breath when she patted her fingers over a particularly large one.

"Just what I suspected. I'll perform a diagnostic to be sure, but-" She looked at Severus. "-I believe that his right rib is broken."

"Mr. Potter, I need you to remove your trousers and put this on." She held up a thin, white hospital gown.

Harry's eyes widened. She expected him to put that on? And remove his trousers? No bloody way! Did that thing even tie up in the back?

Harry shook his head.

"Mr. Potter," Snape growled. "Do as you're told and stop this nonsense immediately," he said sternly.

Harry was torn between obeying his professor, and taking off like a bat out of hell. He was quite a fast runner, and was used to evading his uncle and cousin. He was quite slippery, if he might say so himself.

On the other hand, looking at the very tall, very dark, and very menacing-looking man towering over him, Harry decided that perhaps his chances of escape this time were not very high. Besides, he was certainly not in any fit state to out-run a fully-grown man, twice his size.

Harry stared at him and clutched the hospital gown to his chest, not realising just how frail and young he looked.

Madame Pomfrey felt a twinge of pity. With a flick of her wand, the metal rungs jangled along the pole, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the curtains enveloped him in privacy.

Removing his trousers was not as easy a task, as one would imagine. Not only did Harry feel as though he'd been run over by a Hippogriff, the congealed blood from where he'd scraped his knee, stuck to his jeans. Harry winced as he slowly peeled the fabric away.

Harry felt painful tingles up his arms as he tried to knot the strings in the back of his gown. Harry had stubbornly kept on his boxers. There was no way he was parading his behind for Madame Pomfrey, and especially not for Snape to see.

"Mr. Potter, are you ready?" Madame's Pomfrey asked in a cool, professional manner. What Harry didn't know was how she was struggling to keep her composure-- a sense of professionalism. Severus had explained his concerns and suspicions, and Poppy was horrified that Harry Potter, the defeater of You-Know-Who, the saviour of the wizarding world, could possibly have been treated so cruelly and so ruthlessly. If anyone deserved to be taken care of, and cherished, it was this poor, delicate child. And to be treated so horribly by his own family; the very people who were sworn to protect and care for him.

If Poppy or Harry but knew it, Severus was having similar thoughts. Of course, he was still trying to find an alternate explanation for Potter's injuries that didn't involve his Uncle using him as a punching bag. He really didn't want to have these feelings of pity for the boy that he hated with a passion. The boy who so resembled James Bloody Potter. But as the reserved man stared at the young boy, the mere child, with the hospital gown hanging off of his thin frame, the bruise that marred his pale skin, and the eye that was now almost swollen shut, Severus had to school his expression to hide his feelings of pity and outrage. He was quite shocked by his own reaction actually; he wanted nothing more than to throttle the man that had so cold-heartedly beat on a young child in such a manner.

Severus Snape may be known as an emotionless tyrant, and extremely cold and disciplined, but few knew the suffering that he himself had endured at the hands of his abusive, alcoholic father.

Yes, Severus Snape and Harry Potter had much more in common than anyone would guess, and more than Severus would ever care to admit. Severus never spoke of his tortured childhood, and never would. He, much like Harry, hated being pitied.

Harry sucked in a deep breath.

"Yeah,” he finally said. “As ready as I'll ever be, he thought dejectedly. He sighed in resignation. Once Pomfrey and Snape had a look at his injures, there would be no going back. He'd been fooling himself, if he thought that he could trick them, he realised. Harry had learnt a long time ago, that one never truly pulled the wool over Snape's eyes. The man could extract your deepest secrets from the depths of your soul, Harry was convinced. How he did it, Harry wasn't certain, but he was sure that the man had some sort of power that had something to do with the way he could drill holes into you with those endless pools of black. He shuddered. The man made him very nervous indeed.

"Good, now let's get this over with, and then we can give you something for the pain, Mr. Potter, and you can rest," Poppy said in a no-nonsense voice.

Harry was thankful for her professional manner. He couldn't handle it if the matron were to start fawning all over him. He wanted to get this over with and close his eyes. He just felt so weak and tired all of a sudden.

Poppy did a quick check, announced that he did indeed have a cracked rib, and a mild concussion. As well, he had some external bruising which could be healed quite easily. She handed him a phial of blue-coloured potion, and sternly told him to drink it all.

Harry made a face, but pinched his nose, and downed it quickly. He grimaced. "What the hell is in that?" he exclaimed. "Cat pee? It tastes horrid."

"Mr. Potter, kindly watch your language, or I can perhaps find something even more foul-tasting to wash your mouth out with," Snape threatened.

Harry scowled at him, but clamped his mouth shut tight.

Severus was loath to admit it, but he was relieved that the boy still had some fighting spirit in him, even if his arrogance grated on his nerves. Better that, than to have his spirit broken; physical wounds were easy to heal—psychological wounds were much more difficult.

Harry began to feel a little woozy, and he sighed in relief as his pain eased away. His face heated up when Madame Pomfrey gently helped him lie down on the bed, and neatly tucked him in. She lightly batted his fingers away when he tried to protest that he wasn't a child and could tuck himself in.

"Potter, stop being an ungrateful brat and stop fighting those who are trying to help you," Snape barked impatiently. "Now lie down, and do as you're told for once in your life."

"I'm sorry," he apologised to Madame Pomfrey sheepishly. "I'm just not used to-" he flushed. "-I'm not used to anyone, you know-"

"You're not used to anyone taking care of you," Poppy nodded in understanding.

Oh Merlin… Harry felt like his face was on fire.

Snape was studying him intently again, and he was relieved when he felt the potion take hold, and his eyelids grow heavy.

-----------

Harry awoke to the sounds of raised voices. He tried to sit up too quickly, and his head started to spin. He plopped down on the pillow and closed his eyes for a moment.

Severus' jaw dropped. "Surely, you are not serious, Headmaster."

Albus' blue eyes twinkled. "Oh quite, Severus."

"No, absolutely not. I refuse," Severus said firmly.

Albus' expression grew hard. "You were the one who stated in no uncertain terms, were you not, that you would not allow Harry to return to his relatives? Or to quote you: Over my dead body, will I allow the boy return to those pathetic Muggles."

"Yes, but-"

"Then, I fail to see your objections Severus," Albus said calmly.

Severus looked at him incredulously. "You don't see my objections! You don't see the potential problems of me sharing living space with James Potter's progeny, even for a short time?"

"I think that it's about time that you take your blinders off, Severus. He is not James, and you are no longer fifteen. I think that it's time you acted your age," Albus said sternly.

"But surely the boy would be happier with the Weasleys. Or just about anyone other than me," he sneered.

Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. Severus could be amazingly stubborn and blind-sighted when he chose to be. While he respected the younger man deeply, and admired his bravery, he was too consumed with revenge and insisted on hanging on to childhood grudges.

"Severus, the Weasleys are out of the country for at least another two weeks, and there is no one else. Besides, with Black on the loose, there is no place that I feel that Harry is safer than Hogwarts, and there is no one that I would trust to protect him better," he said softly.

Severus wasn't sure why, but the man seemed to have a way of manipulating him to do what he wanted. It was rather disconcerting for him to realise that he, the ultimate Slytherin could be manipulated so thoroughly by the ultimate Gryffindor. But the man knew just how to pull him in; just what strings to pull, to get him to do his bidding.

"How do you think that Lily would react to you refusing to protect her son?" Albus said softly.

Severus lost what little colour he had left in his face. "How dare you Albus!"

"I dare because Harry needs you, and you owe him; you owe Lily," Albus said in a voice of steel.

Severus' eyes flashed in anger. "I owe Potter nothing," he spat.

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he said in a hard voice. "Harry is an orphan, Severus. His parents are gone. He wouldn't have needed to go live with his relatives if his parents hadn't been murdered. If someone hadn't revealed the prophecy to Voldemort."

"You go too far," Severus said with gritted teeth.

"Forgive me Severus, but that boy has been through enough and now with this new revelation about his relatives, and the added threat of Black on the loose, I need someone I can trust to protect the boy with his life."

Albus, despite his words, did feel a twinge of guilt for using such drastic tactics in convincing Severus that this was the right thing to do.

Albus looked at Severus deeply in the eyes. "I know that you will not shirk your responsibility, Severus. I trust you."

Severus sighed in resignation. "I don't know if I can do this, Albus. The boy is reckless, disobedient and arrogant, just like his-"

"That is enough Severus," Albus said. "Take the time to get to know him, and you might be surprised at what you discover."

The man was positively barmy if he thought that he and Potter would ever get along, or that he would ever change his mind about the spoilt, arrogant fool. He was a Potter, and leopards didn't change their spots. The boy had no regard for the rules, and thought the world revolved around him. But Severus just couldn't get the image of the small, broken child staring back at him with his sad green eyes. Lily's eyes.

"Very well, Albus," he finally agreed, knowing that no matter how much he protested, in the end he would end up doing what Albus wanted anyway.

Albus nodded in satisfaction. "You won't regret it, my boy."

"I highly doubt that Headmaster.”

"Come, let's go tell Harry," Albus said happily.

Severus rolled his eyes, as Albus swept off in front of him, his garishly blue, moon and star-adorned robes billowing behind him.

"I'm sure that he'll be thrilled with the news."

Ever the optimist, Severus thought disgustingly.

--------------

Harry ran back to his bed at the sounds of footsteps coming his way. He had, once his head had stopped swirling like a top, tip-toed quietly to eavesdrop behind the curtains, and quite frankly was horrified at what he had heard. He had to stay with Snape, until school started! Harry was beginning to wonder if perhaps if he wasn't jumping from the kettle to the frying pan. But, he told himself firmly, that Snape, although a real bastard at times, had always protected him. And he had convinced Dumbledore not to send him back to the Dursleys. Harry was quite relieved that he had had Snape to fight this battle for him. He had been terrified that Dumbledore was going to make him admit what his relatives had done to him, and he really had no desire to relive that experience, and see the pity in the man's eyes.

Still, while the man had fought tooth and nail for him, this was still Snape.. He really had no desire to spend the next couple of weeks with the Greasy Git! And now he had to pretend to be surprised at the news. Well, one thing was certain, he wouldn't have to pretend to be horrified.

Harry didn't quite make it back to his bed, when the curtains parted and the bright lights of the hospital wing, made his eyes water.

He looked up guilty at Dumbledore's smiling form, and Snape's lifted eyebrow, that said that he wasn't fooled in the slightest.

"What are you doing out of bed Potter?" he snapped. "Get back into that bed immediately before you undo all of Madame Pomfrey's hard work.”

Harry clutched at the back of his hospital gown to keep it closed and scurried back to bed. He hadn't put his slippers on, and his feet felt like blocks of ice.

Harry scrambled into bed, and pulled the covers up to his chest, but for some reason, he couldn't seem to warm up.

Severus pursed his lips. "For Heaven’s sake Potter, are you trying to add pneumonia to your list of injuries?"

With a flick of his wand, Harry suddenly felt warmth tingle from his toes to his head.

He looked up in surprise. "Thank you sir," he said gratefully.

"Yes well, you won't be thanking me if I find you out of bed again, is that clear?"

Harry gulped.

"Yes sir," he said nervously.

Snape looked at him sternly. "You will not move one toe out of bed, without Madame Pomfrey's permission, do you understand me?"

Harry nodded.

Snape lifted an eyebrow.

"Uh… yes sir." he added quickly.

No point in pissing the man off if he was going to be forced to live with him, Harry thought dejectedly. Why did the Weasleys have to be out of the country. Harry was burning with curiosity. He wondered where they could have gone. It wasn't like they had loads of money, and could afford to take frivolous trips around the world.

Albus watched the whole scene and couldn't help the corners of his mouth lifting. While he felt an enormous amount of guilt about how he'd failed Harry, he couldn't help thinking that perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. He'd never say it to Severus' face, but it was rather shocking to see the man fuss over Harry's welfare. Of course he'd never suggest to Severus that what he was feeling was concern.

Albus walked over and sat down on Harry's bed. Severus stood in the background, a sour look on his face.

The bed sunk with Albus' weight. "Well Harry, how have you been?" he asked kindly.

Harry lowered his eyes, and shrugged his shoulders. What was he supposed to say? Oh, I've been jolly good sir. My aunt is enjoying the sights of England as she bounces through the clouds as a balloon. Oh, and by the way, my uncle beat the living daylights out of me. Not exactly conversation you have with afternoon tea.

"Mr. Potter," Snape scolded, "the Headmaster has asked you a question, kindly respond with a verbal response, as is polite.”

"I'm sorry sir," Harry said apologetically to Dumbledore. "It's just that, uh, things have been a little-" he felt his face warm up. "-uh, crazy."

Albus was silent for a moment, before he broached the subject that Harry was dreading.

"Harry, Professor Snape has told me that your relatives have not treated you very well," he said sadly.

Severus snorted. That was the understatement of the year.

Harry twisted the sheets in his fingers. He really didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to admit that the Dursleys considered him little more than the dirt beneath their feet; that he was never loved and never wanted.

Harry felt ashamed when a single tear rolled down his cheek. He brushed it away quickly with his hand, and looked up to see what he had been dreading--the look of pity in Dumbledore's eyes.

He peeked a glance over at Snape, and was surprised when the man, while not showing discernible emotion, was not wearing his usual mask of indifference either. Harry was hard-pressed to pin-point what emotion the man could have been feeling, if any at all.

Harry shook his head. "No sir, they didn't."

"I know that perhaps you are reluctant to discuss the details, but I hope that you will come to me if you need to talk." he said gently.

"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully. He let out a sigh of relief that the man wasn't going to push him to talk. Especially not in front of Snape. That would be just too humiliating.

"Harry-" Albus felt choked up with emotion as he peered into the pale young face, with the eyes that were so trusting. How could he ever express his sorrow that he'd been so blind as not to see what those relatives of had put him through. How could he ever make it up to this child? He'd failed him. Failed to protect an innocent child from his own relatives who were supposed to love and cherish him and treat him as their own son. When Severus had described the injuries that Harry had sustained at the hands of his uncle, Albus had been consumed with a fury that he'd not felt in a long time, and he knew that he'd have to restrain himself when dealing with the Muggles, or he'd end up in Azkaban. But, he vowed that they would pay.

"Harry," he repeated, "I'm so very sorry my boy. I'm sorry that I didn't protect you better." He grasped Harry's hand. "I promise you that I'll do better by you from now on."

As Severus watched this scene, a feeling of suffocation crept over him. Albus was making these promises to the boy, and placing his trust in him to treat Potter better than the Muggles, but although Severus, while having a violent temper when provoked, had never struck a child; mind you, he'd never been saddled with a child like Harry Potter before for extended periods of time. Would he be able to control himself when he was around the brat? Would he disappoint Albus again, like he'd done so many times before?

Severus had had to endure many a tongue-lashing from Albus for his overly harsh treatment of his students, particularly Harry bloody Potter. He had been on the other end of Minerva's barbed tongue as well. The other professors weren't brave enough to confront him directly, but they hadn't hesitated to go running to Dumbledore the minute that he assigned one of their little darlings a detention dicing flobberworms, or taken off, what they’d considered unfair points from their Houses.

Now, he'd be spending three weeks sharing his quarters with and being in close proximity to James Potter's son. Could he control himself? Would he be a better guardian than the Muggles? As much as he resented Albus for saddling him with the boy, he vowed that he would exercise iron control when dealing with the boy, no matter the provocation. Of course, he wouldn't take any crap from him, and he'd have rules for the boy to follow--many rules. And the boy had better not break those rules, but he'd make sure that the child got proper nutrition, rest and stability. Severus had always seen that the boy was very small and thin for his age, but when Poppy informed him that the boy was suffering from malnutrition, Severus began to fear that the abuse was more extensive than they realised. He had seen Potter struggle with the meagre meal that he'd provided for him at the Leaky Cauldron, and he had suspected then that the boy hadn't eaten for awhile, but Poppy's diagnosis confirmed for him what he had suspected.

What the hell was he thinking? It was only for three bloody weeks, and he was already planning how he could be a better guardian for Harry Potter than those pathetic Muggles. Was he confunded? He really had no desire to be stuck with the brat, and he fiercely resented Albus for forcing his hand.

"Now Harry," Albus continued, “there are only three weeks left till the term begins, but the Weasleys are out of the country at the moment, and I have some business to attend to in the next couple of weeks, and will be out of town frequently." He hesitated. "Professor Snape has agreed-"Severus glared at him fiercely. "-to allow you to stay with him until school commences."

Harry grit his teeth, and forced himself to nod his head and say, "Yes sir," but one look at Snape's sour expression, and Harry knew that it was going to be a very long three weeks!

Panic crept into Harry's voice. “Sir, I sent Hedwig to the Weasleys. I didn't know that they were gone.”

Dumbledore smiled at Harry indulgently and patted his leg lightly. “Don't worry my boy. You have a very smart bird there. She showed up in the Owlery earlier today, and she's been fed and watered to her heart's content.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”

Harry looked up nervously. “Sir, what about, uh-you know,” He picked at the fluff on his blanket. “What about my aunt? I sorta...uh...blew her up.”

Severus' lips tightened. “What do you mean, you blew up your aunt?”

Severus forced his expression to remain stern when those large emerald eyes looked up at him in fear. He could only imagine what the boy had done. He blew up Petunia? Why hadn't that thought ever occurred to him when the horse-faced bitch had tried to cause trouble with him and Lily?

But Albus only smiled more. “Ah yes, your Aunt Marge.” His eyes were twinkling madly.

Aunt Marge? Severus thought. Hmm... shame it wasn't Petunia. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised that Albus had sent Potter to that bad-tempered shrew. It's not surprising in the least that the child was mistreated there, if Petunia's jealousy and hatred towards Lily as a child, was anything to judge by. He felt a surprising wave of hatred overwhelm him, and tried to tell himself that it was on Lily's behalf, not the aggravating child with the large emerald eyes sitting before him, looking so young and scared.

“Never fear my boy, your aunt has been properly punctured and her memory modified. Minister Fudge has assured me that all is taken care of, and he's only concerned about your safety,” Albus said kindly. His look suddenly grew serious. “What you did was very foolish Harry. You put yourself in terrible danger.”

“And when has Potter ever thought about consequences,” Severus sneered.

Albus sent him a warning look.

“What kind of danger?” Harry asked . “Does this have anything to do with Sirius Black, sir?”

Harry noticed that Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a fleeting glance.

"Yes well, you don't need to concern yourself about that right now Harry," Albus said gently. "I only ask that you remain within the confines of the castle and not leave unless you inform Professor Snape of your whereabouts at all times."

"But sir, aren't I safe here at Hogwarts. I mean no one can enter the castle, right?"

"Yes, of course my boy, but-"

"What the Headmaster is trying to say Mr. Potter, is that you are not permitted to leave the Castle without my express permission, is that clear?"

"Yes, but-"

"Is that clear Mr. Potter?" Severus raised his voice slightly.

"Yes sir," Harry said with a sigh.

Harry had the strangest feeling that there was something he wasn't being told. Something to do with Sirius Black. But of course, as usual he was being treated like a little kid. I've defeated Voldemort, tackled a troll and a Basilisk, and they still think I need to be protected, he thought angrily. I can take care of myself. I've been doing it forever, haven't I? Harry thought bitterly. I'll just have to figure out by myself, what's going on.

As if he could read Harry's mind, Snape suddenly drilled him with his dark eyes. "If I find that you've disobeyed me, you won't like the consequences, Mr. Potter."

Harry gulped. And feeling uncomfortable under the Potions master's hard glare, Harry was relieved when the brusque Medi-Witch interrupted them.

"Headmaster, the boy needs his rest. I must ask that you both leave." Poppy looked pointedly at Harry.

Albus looked at the boy fondly, and the guilt overwhelmed him again. He looked over to Severus and although few would have been able to recognise the slight crack in the veneer that Severus had built around himself, he could tell that the reserved man was not as immune to Harry's situation as he would like others to believe.

Albus nodded. "Yes, of course Poppy."

"Remember what I said, Mr. Potter," Severus said sternly. "You are not to leave that bed until Madame Pomfrey deems you are well enough."

"Yes sir," Harry said resignedly.

Harry felt a strange sense of loneliness wash over him as he watched Dumbledore and Snape leave in a sweep of blue and black robes. Soon though, he felt his eyelids grow heavy as Madame Pomfrey fussed over him and tucked the snow-white sheets around him firmly, with strict instructions that mirrored Snape's earlier dictates.

Harry woke up much later, to the moonlight filtering in through the tall, hospital windows. He was beginning to feel a little hungry, and wondered what time it was.

As if on cue, Madame Pomfrey came in with a tray, which she cast a spell on to hover over his lap.

Harry dipped his spoon in the light broth and savoured the surprisingly tasty soup. As was the case at the Leaky Cauldron, he couldn't stomach more than a few spoonfuls of soup, before his stomach refused to accept more.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Potter," she reassured Harry when he gave her a sheepish look at his half-eaten soup. "It is best that you eat lightly for a few days. You're suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. You are also severely underweight.”

Although Harry knew that her anger was not directed at him, he felt his face warm up in shame. Everyone would know soon. Everyone would know that the strong, brave Harry Potter, was really so pathetic and weak that he couldn't even stand up to his uncle.

"Mr. Potter, it's not you who should be ashamed, child," Poppy said kindly. "You've done nothing wrong."

Harry continued to stare down at the sheets. He was thankful when she returned back to her no-nonsense demeanour. "Now Mr. Potter, you must rest if you are going to get better."

"But I just woke up," he protested.

"Be that as it may be Mr. Potter, you will rest," she said firmly as she handed him a phial containing a blue frothy liquid, that Harry just knew was going to taste vile.

"Drink it all up," she ordered.

He gave her a pleading look, but she hardened her heart, and looked at him sternly. She pointed to the phial. "Now, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed, pinched his nose, and gagged as the liquid slid down his throat.

"Bloody Hell, what's with these damned potions tasting like crap?”

"Mr. Potter, language," Poppy admonished sternly.

"It would seem that Mr. Potter has developed quite the potty mouth," a voice drawled.

Harry's face felt like it was on fire.

"I suggest that you restrain yourself from now on Mr. Potter, or I will come up with a solution, that I guarantee will cure you of your penchant for spewing a mouthful of profanities," Snape threatened with a glare.

Harry scowled. What a git.

"I'd like to speak with you privately, Madam, if you will," Severus said quietly.

"Of course Severus."

Harry battled to keep his eyes open, as he was hoping to eavesdrop again, but within minutes he was sound asleep.

Poppy took one last glance at her patient, and was shocked at the overwhelming feeling of protectiveness that overcame her when she looked down on the sleeping, messy-haired child. Harry was clutching his blanket possessively; his small form curled into a ball, looking lost under the mounds of blankets on the sterile hospital bed.

Severus was quite annoyed with himself that he couldn't quite stir up the usual feelings of hatred for the boy. It was hard to feel animosity towards a child who had stood before him, fragile and vulnerable, looking like a ghost from his past.

He tore his eyes from the sleeping child and pushed his unwelcome feelings of sympathy for the young Potter to the back of his mind.

Poppy swished her wand to close the curtains around Harry's bed, but not before taking one last look to assure herself that the boy was comfortable.

"Sleep well," Mr. Potter, she said softly.

Severus rolled his eyes. They were all taken in by this arrogant slip of a boy. He was just like his father--spoilt and conceited. Never mind the little voice in the back of his head that whispered, he was none of those things; he was just like Lily.

Severus led Poppy to a far corner of the infirmary and added a privacy spell for security.

Poppy looked up at the dark man expectantly.

"When do you think that Mr. Potter will be well enough to be released?" Severus asked with a scowl.

"Well, most of his injuries are healed, but I worry about his concussion and his weakened state. He is suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration. It is possible that he might be ready to leave by tomorrow, providing he does not over-exert himself, and he will need some sort of nutritional supplements and slow introduction of solid food," Poppy explained with a clinical professionalism, that belied her growing sense of outrage at the boy's treatment at the hand of his relatives.

Severus nodded. "Very well, I will make tentative plans for moving the boy down to my quarters tomorrow."

Poppy studied Severus' expression. "What is it Severus? I get the feeling that something else is on your mind. Why the privacy spell?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Sirius Black has been spotted on the outskirts of Hogsmeade."

Poppy's eyes widened. "But surely Hogwarts is secure."

"I would hope so, but the Headmaster is not taking any chances with Potter's presence here. He's taking extra precautions."

Poppy glanced over at the closed curtains. She shook her head sadly. "Hasn't that boy been through enough already?"

"Yes well, I don't trust Potter not to go wandering around for a midnight stroll," Severus sneered.

Poppy looked shocked. "You don't think-"

"This is Potter we're talking about. He's expressed some curiosity about Black and I wouldn't put it past him to satisfy that curiosity by snooping around. He's never given much thought for his own safety, now has he?"

"Well if I catch him out of bed, I'll put a sticking charm on him," Poppy said sternly.

Severus smirked. "Now that is a sight I would like to see."

Poppy tsked, and gave him a disapproving look. "Severus."

Severus ended the privacy spell. "I will return in the morning for an update on Potter's condition, and to see if he's well enough to be released."

Poppy nodded, and watched the tall man glide out of the Infirmary in a sweep of dark robes. Despite the man's hard exterior, she knew that Severus would keep the boy safe and healthy.

-------

Harry rolled his eyes. "But I feel much better," he insisted.

"Yes well, you will rest nevertheless,” she said firmly.

Harry groaned. He was tired of resting.

"Ah Severus," Poppy looked up to see Severus standing in the doorway of the hospital listening to Harry argue with the Medi-Witch about her instructions for the following week. She'd ordered strict bed-rest, allowing Harry to be out of bed for only short periods of time, and severely limiting his physical activity. The boy was having none of it, however; Harry Potter was definitely not the type of child to be content with inactivity.

She turned a stern glare to Harry. "I was just telling Mr. Potter that unless he wishes to have a relapse and end up back here that he had better obey my instructions to get plenty of rest and not overdo it."

"Don't worry Madam, Mr. Potter will be well taken care of," Snape said ominously

Harry, who had been sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, swinging his legs back and forth, clanging the metal bars with his trainers, stopped and looked wide-eyed at Snape.

The moment that Poppy had announced that she was springing him, Harry had dressed quickly, well as quickly as Poppy would allow him to, and was anxious to escape the white walls and smell of disinfectant. Not that he was particularly anxious to spend time in Snape's company, but Harry was tired of being confined to bed, and was looking forward to being free of Madame Pomfrey's fussing and the foul-tasting potions that she forced down his throat. Harry had the feeling, however, that he was escaping one prison for another.

After impatiently waiting for what seemed like hours, Poppy finished briefing Snape on Harry's care and limitations. All the while Harry was beginning to feel the walls close in on him. Harry was worried that Snape was going to keep him on a short leash for three weeks, and his mind was working overtime to think of ways to escape the invisible bars; a silky fabric lying on the bottom of his trunk came to mind. He'd wait till Snape was asleep; did the old bat even sleep?

Harry, who had tuned out most of the conversation, jumped when a deep voice barked, "Potter."

Snape scowled. "Let's go. We don't have all day," he said impatiently.

Harry jumped off the bed quickly, jarring his wobbly knees and making the springs creak on the old hospital bed.

Snape's thin lips tightened in disapproval.

"Mr. Potter," Poppy admonished, "what part of you are not to be jostling about haphazardly, do you fail to understand?"

He looked at her sheepishly. "Sorry, Madame Pomfrey," he mumbled.

"Think you can make it to my quarters without injuring yourself?" Snape sneered.

Harry glared at him. Yeah, this was going to be so much fun.

-----------

Harry huffed. So much for taking it easy.

The git was walking at the speed of lightening, and stopped every now and then to snap out a, "Hurry up Potter, we don't have all day."

Harry glared daggers at the back of Snape's flapping robes.

Snape led Harry down a series of moving staircases and corridors, until he noticed the entranceway to the Slytherin Dorms. After going undercover pretending to be Goyle last year, Harry had never had the desire to return here. It began to really sink in what fate awaited him for the next three weeks. He had to fight down the overwhelming desire to flee in the other direction.

Snape stopped abruptly, and Harry who'd been following at a run, bumped into him; Harry felt a jolt of pain, as he collided with Snape who had just turned around to address him.

When Severus turned around, he saw a scrawny, dark-haired missile come barreling towards him.

In a flash of blinding pain, Harry would have crashed to the hard cement tiles, but for the firm vice-like grip of two strong hands grasping him by his upper arms.

Almost instinctively, Harry scrunched his eyes shut, and flinched as Snape's face tightened in anger. Severus, who was about to lambaste the boy for his carelessness, bit back his scathing words as he saw the child flinch and clench his eyes tightly shut; memories of himself as a small child, curled up in the corner, his eyes glued shut, hoping to hide and pretend that he didn't exist when Tobias stumbled through the door; the stench of liquor clinging to his clothes. The crack of a palm against flesh echoing against the walls of the modest home, and the sounds of his mother's crying and pleading for it to stop; knowing that his mother had failed in distracting his father from finding the next target of his ire.

Harry's eyelids fluttered opened when the punishing grip on his arms loosened, and he was set gently on his feet. He stared up at Snape in confusion.

"Just a moment Potter," Snape said in a voice, while not gentle, was devoid of its usual malice.

In a series of complex wand movements, Severus whispered the password, and the portrait guarding the entrance opened up to reveal a tall wooden door, with a brass snake clasped to the door handle. To Harry's surprise, Snape whispered, "Serpensortia" and the snake began to slither and hiss, and suddenly the door popped open.

Snape looked at Harry oddly when he began conversing with the snake in Parsletongue. He had known since last year, of course that the boy was a Parslemouth, but it was still very odd to hear the strange hissing sound come from anyone other than the Dark Lord.

Aw, a speaker. So rare is it that I come upon one, and especially one so young. You must be a Slytherin. Only those who possess the qualities of the noble House of Salazar Slytherin have been able to converse with snakes.

I'm a Gryffindor actually, but the sorting hat did say that I'd do well in Slytherin, he added slyly.

Well, of course little one. More often than not, children end up in the same House as either parent. Your mother must have been a Gryffindor.

Before Harry had a chance to decipher the snake's strange words, he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Let's go Potter," Snape snapped impatiently. "You may converse with your little friend another time.”

Harry took one last look at the snake, whose thin red tongue was popping in and out of its mouth, and said a quick "goodbye," before he was yanked unceremoniously inside Snape's quarters.

Harry jumped when the door slammed shut behind him, causing the flames of the candles on either side of the door to flicker, with the sudden swoosh of air.

Snape swished his wand and Harry squinted his eyes as the curtains parted on the high dungeon windows, illuminating the dark room in bright sunlight.

Harry's jaw dropped.

If Harry had ever spent any time wondering what Snape's quarters were like, he would have expected that the rooms would be dark, ominous, chilly...assuming that the man actually did live inside the castle and didn't just crawl off at midnight to some dank cave.

Instead, the room was light and airy, and decorated in colours that reminded Harry of England in the fall. The walls were made of pale stone, and were covered in wall-hangings, with splashes of orange, burnt umber and red. Velvet maroon drapes hung on the high dungeon windows, and a sofa, loveseat and stuffed armchairs, ivory with small maroon and gold throw cushions stood in the middle of the parlour. The floors were polished hardwood, with a large area rug with the same colours as the wall-hangings. For a man who professed to hate his rival House, Snape's quarters look suspiciously Gryffindorish. Of course, he'd never suggest that to the man.

In front of the sofa was a dark cherry-wood coffee table, with a fine, lacy pattern engraved into the polished wood. Facing the loveseat was a fireplace, with a carved mantel, made of the same fine wood as the coffee table, and end tables that were situated on either side of the loveseat. Along the main wall, there were tall, built-in bookshelves, of the same burnished wood as the other pieces of furniture in the room.

There was no fire in the grate, but the room was a comfortable temperature, with the sunlight filtering in through the windows. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and felt the warm glow of the sun on his pale face. Harry figured that because it was mid August, that once the sun went down, it would be cool in the dungeons.

Harry was surprised to find that Snape owned quite a few Muggle items, such as a phonograph, an antique telephone, and even a telly encased in wood panelling. Harry would have thought that Snape was the ultimate pure-blood wizard who would have scoffed at anything Muggle, but upon further inspection, Harry could see that Snape even had a video machine, with a wide array of videos lined neatly upon the gleaming wood shelves that stood next to the telly. Harry had to admit that the one thing that he missed in the Wizarding world was the telly, although it was a rare occasion that he was allowed to watch it. Mostly, he would sneak a peek at it while he was cooking for, or serving dinner to, the Dursleys.

Along the other wall, was a small dining alcove with a large dark wood table and four chairs. To the side of that was a kitchenette, with an ice-box and large, old-fashioned Muggle-style oven. Again Harry was struck by how Muggle-like Snape's living space was. Wait till I tell Ron that Snape doesn't actually sleep in a coffin, and live in a cave, Harry snickered to himself. Oh bloody hell--Ron! Wait till Ron finds out that I've been staying with Snape of all people; He'll be horrified when he finds out that Dumbledore made me live with the greasy git till school begins.

Harry felt an ache in his chest. He missed his friends terribly, and wondered when Ron's family would be back from wherever it was that they were. He thought that he remembered Dumbledore saying that Ron would be back in two weeks, so maybe he could spend the last week at the Burrow, instead of with Snape. At the very least, maybe Dumbledore could maybe at least arrange a visit or something. It would be very lonely for him to be without his friends for the next three weeks; only having Snape's company to look forward to, filled Harry with dread and emptiness. It brought to home again, just how very alone in the world he was.

After everything that had happened with the Dursleys, Harry realised that the only people he had that really cared about him were his friends and Dumbledore. Harry felt an aching deep within his heart; what he wouldn't give to have a family like Ron's. He wondered what it would be like to have a mother or a father, or both even. Sometimes Ron complained about his parents, particularly his mum, about how she fussed over him, made him eat his vegetables, told him what time to go to bed, reprimanded him when he misbehaved.

He often told Harry how lucky he was that when he was at Hogwarts, that he had no one to answer to, and no one except the teachers to tell him what to do. What Harry wouldn't give to have a parent, even it if was to make him eat his vegetables, and even if it was to give him hell when he broke the rules. The Dursleys certainly never cared if he ate his vegetables; hell, they never cared if he ate. And if Harry broke their rules, he was beaten within in an inch of his life.

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's trunk, which he'd levitated all the way down from the hospital wing, and it floated off down the corridor and disappeared inside a room at the end of the hallway.

"Come, I'll show you to your room," Snape broke into Harry's thoughts.

Harry looked at the Dark man in confusion. I have my own room? He thought for sure that he'd be relegated to sleeping on the couch or the floor for the duration of the three weeks. On the other hand, Harry thought that he wouldn't put it past the man to stick him in a broom cupboard. But Harry ate his words when he laid eyes on the sight before him.

Harry's first thought was that Dumbledore must have had a hand in convincing Snape to allow him such a beautiful, spacious room. But that thought was quickly dispelled.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry. "This is your room for the next three weeks. I converted my study to accommodate you, and I expect you to keep it presentable, is that clear Mr. Potter?" he asked sternly.

Harry had to force his dropped jaw to function again to speak. "Uh--yes sir. I understand," he whispered.

The room was everything that he'd ever wanted. Hell, a bathroom would have been better than what he'd had at the Dursleys.

The room was painted a medium blue, with dark blue curtains and matching comforter on the large four-poster bed. The furniture, which consisted of a dresser, night tables on either side of the bed, shelves of books, and a small desk were all of a dark, rich polished wood, similar to that of the furniture in the main living area.

Harry was quite pleased that his room had a window that looked out onto the grounds. Harry had been sure, that being in the dungeons, that there would be no windows, and that he would feel quite claustrophobic while staying with Snape. Although the windows, were a little higher off the ground than if they had been on higher levels of the Castle, they were quite large, and allowed a substantial amount of natural light to filter through, giving the room a warm, cosy glow, and cosy was not a word that Harry would have ever associated with the likes of Snape.

"There is a small loo to the right, and there is also one at the end of the main hall," Snape said uncomfortably. He still couldn't believe that Potter, of all people, would be his house guest for the next three weeks.

"I will leave you to unpack and get settled." He pinned Harry with his dark eyes. "You are to rest, after you've unpacked, and I will wake you for dinner."

"But sir," Harry whined, "I'm not tired."

"Nevertheless you will rest," Snape said firmly. "You are not required to sleep, but you will rest on the bed till dinner time. You may read if you like," Snape said motioning to the wide array of books on the shelves, but you are not to do anything other than lie on that bed until it is time to eat. Is that clear Potter?"

Harry bit his lip. He really didn't feel like resting, but he supposed that being able to read wasn't so horrible. "Yes sir," Harry said nodding his head.

"Very well, I will give you one half hour to put your belongings away, freshen up, and then I will come to make sure that you are where you are supposed to be. Given your track record for following directions," he sneered, "I don't trust you to do as you're told."

Harry gritted his teeth. Whenever he started to think that the man wasn't quite so bad, the git had to open his mouth and ruin it.

-------

"Potter."

Harry's eyelids fluttered open, and the heavy, opened book that he'd fallen asleep with while reading, jumped up into the air, and landed with a thump on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Snape smirked at him. "So, you weren't tired, were you?"

Harry took off his glasses, and rubbed his tired eyes. "Well, maybe a little," he said sheepishly.

Snape studied the boy for a minute. He'd actually waited several moments before waking the boy, when he'd opened the door to find Potter, glasses askew, eyes closed, clasping a book to his chest and sleeping soundly.

He wasn't quite sure what compelled him, but he couldn't quite stop staring at the small, sleeping child. Why did he have to be the one to find Potter at the Leaky Cauldron? Why did he have to be the one to discover that Potter was not the pampered prince that he thought he was? Damn it all. Why couldn't he still feel that same hate that he'd clung to for all these years? Why was it that only now was he likening the boy to Lily, and not James bloody Potter? He was Potter's son. He didn't want to feel anything but hate for this child, and now his illusions were all shattered, and he wished he could go back in time to before he saw this small, broken child, staring up at him with Lily's eyes.

Severus had stood there staring at the boy, trying to retrieve all those memories of when the younger Potter had broken the rules, had been arrogant or conceited like his father but all Severus could feel was the same pity and compassion that he'd felt for the child since the shocking realisation that Potter had lived the same childhood as he had.

"Come, it's time for dinner," he said gruffly.

"When you are back on solid foods, we will eat more frequently in the Great Hall, but since your dietary needs are specific, we will eat down here," Snape said, motioning for Harry to take a seat.

While Harry did feel somewhat hungry, his stomach still churned a little, and he was thankful that he wasn't expected to eat anything too substantial.

As if reading his thoughts, Snape retrieved a phial from his robes pocket, and Harry recognised it as the same stomach soothing potion that he'd been given while in the hospital.

"This should help you to keep your meal down. It wouldn't do for you to lose what little nourishment we can get into your stomach."

Harry had to refrain from telling Snape just what he thought of his foul-tasting potions, after the horrid liquid made him gag. He didn't really want to find out what Snape would do to him if he allowed his mouth to run wild again.

Snape motioned for him to eat.

Harry had a feeling that he was going to be thoroughly sick of soup by the time he was back on a regular diet. But there was also some rice, yoghurt and a hard-boiled egg.

Harry again was amazed that Snape didn't push him to finish his meal. He simply nodded when Harry apologised for not being able to finish, and with a swish of his wand, cleared the table.

Harry stood for a moment, uncertain of what was expected of him now.

He sincerely hoped that Snape wouldn't send him back to bed again.

Snape studied Harry a moment, before saying, "You may lie on the couch and rest either with a book or you may watch the telly, but you are not to do anything else."

Harry was at a loss for words at how kind Snape was being. Well, maybe kind wasn't the word, but it seemed as though the man had lost a bit of his sarcastic edge. Just a little bit.

Snape summoned a blanket and a pillow for Harry, who hadn't realised just how knackered he really was until he rested his head on the propped up pillow.

"I have some work to attend to. I trust you can keep yourself busy until bed time? Which will be at nine o'clock."

Bed time? Harry grimaced at the word. He was thirteen, not three! And nine o'clock? Harry never went to bed before at least midnight, even on school nights. Him and Ron would laugh and talk till all hours of the night. Never mind, that Harry always looked and felt like he was sleep-deprived, and it showed in his marks.

"But-" Harry began, but thought better to argue when the man's face became as dark as a storm cloud.

"You will be required to be in your room by nine. You are permitted to read quietly in your bed until ten, when you will be expected to turn out the lights," he said firmly. "We will discuss more thoroughly my rules and expectations tomorrow," he said before he gave Harry one last look, as if daring him to argue.

Harry sighed. He could just imagine what rules that Snape would cook up. It would probably fill a novel.

"Here," Snape said as he handed Harry the remote control to the telly.

He looked at Harry sternly. "Not one foot off that sofa, except to go to the loo. Do you understand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

"Very well," he said then turned around and said as an afterthought, "You may, if you are thirsty, serve yourself some juice from the ice-box."

Is this really Snape, or did they replace him with a clone?

"Thank you sir," Harry said gratefully. Snape nodded, and disappeared down the corridor. Harry heard a door close, and he wondered what Snape was doing for a study, since Harry had taken his. He felt a twinge of guilt. Of course, Snape must think that he was a real burden.

-------------

As Harry lay in his bed, he stared at the phial of potion that Snape had ordered him to take before going to sleep. Even though Harry had much less pain than before, his muscles still ached when over-exerted, and he still fell a dull throbbing in his temples from time-to-time.

He knew that somehow, he was going to have to develop a tolerance for the vile-tasting potions that Snape was going to be shoving down his throat in the next three weeks, or Harry thought that he would go barmy with having to endure something that tasted like Hagrid's cauldron cakes.

Just before ten, when Harry prepared to extinguish the lanterns, he went over to the windows to draw the curtains closed, and jumped out of his skin when, the same two glittering charcoal eyes that had haunted him in Magnolia Crescent, stared back.

Harry's legs turned to jelly.

At the sound of the door opening, Harry turned around and stared at Snape, his face pasty and eyes glossy.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing out of bed?" Snape's lips thinned with anger at the boy's stubbornness. He hurried over and firmly grasped Harry by his arms, and helped the unsteady child into bed.

He closed the curtains with a flick of his wand and turned to Harry--a disapproving look on his face.

"It is ten o'clock now Potter, and I expect you to go to sleep." he said firmly, while extinguishing the bedside lanterns and with one last look to make certain that the boy was doing as he was told, left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Harry lay still in the dark for what seemed like hours. He heard the chimes of the grandfather clock in the hallway, that said it was now midnight. Harry tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack.

Two candles on the walls illuminated the hallway with a soft light. Harry listened to hear if Snape was still awake. Upon hearing only the blood pounding in his head, Harry quietly closed the door and kneeled before his trunk.

He scooped up his invisibility cloak and hugged the silky fabric to his chest for a moment. He allowed himself to imagine his father skulking about on one of his adventures, while hidden under the cloak to avoid detection. His heart twisted. He wished that he'd know his mum and dad.

Harry placed the cloak over his head, took a deep breath and quietly slipped out the door.

A rush of adrenalin washed over Harry as he stealthily made his way down the softly lit hallway. The front door seemed so far away, but that was part of the excitement. Harry had always loved the feeling of adventure, of pushing the limits, and living on the edge. Coming close to getting caught, but escaping by the seat of your pants. Hearing all those stories of how he was just like his father made Harry ignore the little voice in his head that said if Snape caught him, he'd be in deep trouble.

The clock ticked in time with the blood pounding in his ears. Just a little closer now-he was almost there, just a few more feet. He knew he was being silly, but his heart beat a little faster as he rushed past Snape's closed bedroom door. After all, he was safely hidden under the invisibility cloak. The cloak was made for an adult, and Harry was a smaller-than-average thirteen-year-old, so he knew that he was being paranoid. He was well hidden, and safe under the cloak; all was quiet, and Snape was asleep. At least he hoped that Snape was asleep.

He started to feel excited when he saw the shiny metal of the door handle glisten with the light of the candlelight. Just a few more steps now.

Harry clasped his hand over the door knob and suddenly, buzzing rang in his ears, and what felt like a jolt of electricity sent tingles throughout his body.

Harry's heart dropped into his throat when loud sirens made his ears ring, and he could hear the unmistakable rustle of robes behind him. Harry finally peeled his fingers off the doorknob and forced his wobbly legs to back up against the wall.

Harry watched in horror as Snape came dangerously close to where he was standing. He thought that his heart would jump out of his chest--it was beating so fast. He was terrified that Snape could hear him gasp for breath.

Snape held his wand in a defensive position. "If that's you Black, show yourself this instant, you bloody bastard."

Harry's jaw dropped.

Two thoughts raced through his mind. First, Snape thought that Sirius Black had come to Hogwarts? And, secondly, Snape thought that "Harry" had a potty mouth?

Harry stared wide-eyed as Snape began furiously whipping his wand in all directions, spewing out a string of Latin phrases. He was frozen to the spot. He knew that he should make a break for it before-

Snape spun around and began walking towards the hallway--walking towards...Harry's bedroom!

Harry snapped out of his trance, and clutching his cloak to his body so that he didn't trip on it, ran as fast as he could towards his room. He slid by Snape, perilously close, and Snape stopped for a moment and looked around suspiciously when a cold gust of air made his robes ripple.

Harry's stomach lurched when Snape glanced in his direction, but swallowed his fear and ran for his bedroom as fast as his rubber-like legs would carry him. Harry was thankful that he had not closed his door firmly, but still held his breath as the hinges creaked slightly. He slipped into the room as quietly as he could, whipped the cloak off, and stuffed it at the bottom of his trunk as quickly as he could.

Harry had no sooner jumped into bed, and pulled the blankets over himself, than Snape opened the door and stepped inside the room.

Harry could hear the muffle of footsteps on the lush carpet, and clenched his eyes firmly shut when he heard Snape coming closer. He tried to force his ragged breathing to a slower, calmer rate, so that Snape would think that he was really sleeping. He shivered as he felt Snape's presence looming over him. He could feel the man staring down at him and he wondered what Snape was thinking. Was he suspicious? Or was he checking that Harry was alright? No, couldn't possibly be. Snape wouldn't give a damn if he was alright.

Finally relaxing when he heard Snape walk away and the click of the door being closed, Harry let out a sigh of relief. Woah, that was a close call. Okay, so he may be a Gryffindor, but he didn't mind admitting that almost getting caught by Snape was right up there in the fear department. Yeah, so maybe Snape wasn't a troll, or a basilisk, or the scary monster that lived under Quirrel's turban, but he was just a little too bat-like, with his glittering obsidian eyes, midnight-black hair hanging in greasy lumps around his sallow face; black robes that rose and billowed when he glided down the corridors of Hogwarts, almost looking like he was walking on air--so silent were his footsteps. He was just waiting in the shadows to prey upon unsuspecting students who dared to break the rules that were written in stone. No flexibility there, Harry thought bitterly.

Harry didn't sleep well the rest of the night, and when he did manage to sleep, his dreams were riddled with images of his uncle, who then morphed into Snape grabbing him by the collar and lifting him up on his toes. You're nothing but a freak, and this is what we do to freaks. Snape opened his mouth and his yellow teeth turned into fangs. He could feel Snape's hot breath coming closer...the pointy fangs on his neck, about to-

Harry shot up in bed, beads of sweat trickling down his face. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and wrapped his arms around himself tightly to stop shivering. Although Snape had never laid a hand on him, Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Snape, just like his Uncle Vernon, would lose patience with him and hit him too. This was Snape, after all. But then, Snape had seemed really angry when he had realised that his uncle hit him. Though only a short time had passed since Harry had left Privet Drive, and Snape had found him at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry had realised what a paradox Snape was. He could be exceedingly cruel and impatient, yet fiercely protective and brave. But still, Harry wasn’t taking any chances.

------

Severus looked down on the sleeping boy and cursed himself for the feeling of relief that washed over him to see that he was safe. Blast Potter, he thought to himself. He didn't want to worry about the brat; he didn't want to care about James Potter's son, he thought in disgust. Severus forced himself to look away from the pale child with the faint hint of a bruise still present under his eye.

"Nox," he said quietly and then slipped out the door, closing it gently behind him. He put his wand back into his pocket, intending on keeping it close to his person, should whomever tried to breach his wards, dare to make another attempt.

Severus knew that he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon; his mind was racing. All he could think of was how he was hoping that it was he who found Black; the man responsible for Lily's death would pay. Of that Severus vowed.

-------

Harry woke up with a blinding headache the next morning, that made even his eyes feel as though they were being pulled out of his sockets. He had tossed and turned, and his dreams had been disturbing, to put it mildly. Not only had he dreamt of Uncle Vernon, hitting him over and over again, and Snape boring into his soul with his dark eyes, but then he dreamt that Sirius Black was at Hogwarts, and he had come for Harry... And he dreamt of a large, black dog with glittering coal-black eyes...

Harry fumbled for his glasses on the night table, and tried to swallow down the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him. He looked around the room again in awe at how unexpectedly nice it was.

His hands shook as he slid his glasses over the bridge of his nose. He was right, it was rather cool in the dungeons when the sun went down. Although Snape had told him to unpack yesterday, Harry hadn't bothered, since his possessions were so meagre. He went over to his trunk, and pulled out a pair of Dudley's old slippers that had seen better days. He slipped them on his feet which were numb from the cold, and thought that since they were riddled with holes, that they wouldn't offer much warmth. He searched through the piles of overly-large, stained and frayed clothing, until he found a faded dressing gown that reached below his ankles. Dudley was the same age as him, but was not only much heavier, but several inches taller as well. Harry tugged the dressing gown up, and wrapped the belt around the folded fabric so that it now reached above the top of his feet.

Harry's stomach churned when he saw his invisibility cloak folded haphazardly at the bottom of the trunk, where he had stashed it in panic the night before. His heart raced just thinking about how close he had come to being caught last night. But his anxiety was due to more than just the fact that he had come close to being apprehended last night; he couldn't help the shivers that raced up his spine at Snape's words last night.

Why did Snape think that Sirius Black would come to Hogwarts, and why did Snape think that he would try to break into Snape's quarters, of all places? Harry shuddered; he just knew that Snape and Dumbledore had been hiding something from him--something to do with Sirius Black, but what on earth could Sirius Black possibly have to do with him?

Harry took a deep breath, and held on tightly to the doorknob for a few minutes, trying to gather up the courage to face Snape.

---------

"Sit down Mr. Potter," Snape said coolly.

His eyes widened in surprise as he studied the too-thin, pale boy with the dark smudges underneath his eyes. The boy looked even smaller, more fragile and vulnerable looking in the harsh light of day, dressed in an over-large dressing gown and slippers three sizes too large for him--riddled with holes. He felt that unwanted surge of fury well up inside him again, and surprised himself with the depth of his desire to throttle those Muggles within an inch of their sorry lives.

Damn, why did the boy have to look at him with those large haunted eyes, looking so unsure of himself? This wasn't the Potter he was used to. He was used to the arrogant, defiant tone, and cocky, James Potter look-alike, not this waif-like, wisp of a child who looked like a strong wind might blow him away.

Harry looked at Snape uncertainly, as he hesitantly pulled out a chair and sat down. A steaming bowl of porridge stood before him, and the delicious aroma made his stomach ache with hunger.

Snape nodded for him to eat.

Harry poured some cream and sprinkled a little brown sugar on top. He felt his insides warm up as he savoured the the sweet, creamy texture of the oatmeal. As usual though, he was full after only a few spoonfuls; he put the spoon down, looking uncertainty at Snape. The man had not forced him to eat more than he was capable since he had bumped into him at The Leaky Cauldron, but he was worried that the man's thin patience would run out, and he would reprimand him for not finishing his meals. But Snape only pointed his wand at Harry's bowl and vanished it away.

Severus fixed Harry with his dark eyes, over the tip of his coffee cup. "Did you sleep well Mr. Potter?" he asked suddenly.

Harry's eyes widened. "Uh, well, uh-alright I guess sir," he said quietly. He was not about to tell Snape that he dreamt that he was a vampire and was about the sink his long, pointy fangs into his neck.

Snape's eyes narrowed as though he could read Harry's mind. "Hmm..." he said noncommittedly. "Now, that breakfast is finished, I think it's time to discuss the rules Mr. Potter."

Harry groaned inwardly. Here it comes. There goes my summer, he thought bitterly.

"We've already discussed bedtime; now we will discuss what I expect from you during your stay here. Until Madam Pomfrey clears you for more strenuous activity, you will follow her dictates to the letter." He looked at Harry with a stern expression. "You are not to do more for the next several days than catching up on your summer homework; and rest."

Harry's face fell. It was bad enough that he was confined to bed rest, but now he had to do homework? He knew that he should be grateful though because being with Snape was still loads better than being with the Dursleys. Harry couldn't believe that that thought just entered his mind. Imagine thinking that being with Snape for three weeks was preferable than being with anybody! But, although Snape was brusque, he made sure that Harry had a nice room, made sure that he was fed properly, and even protected him—though Harry wasn’t certain what Snape was protecting him from.

"Yes sir," Harry finally said. It was no use arguing after all. He knew that he wouldn't win, and it would seem ungrateful after everything Snape had done for him.

"Next week, when Madam Pomfrey clears you for normal activity, we will perhaps take a trip to Diagon Alley to obtain your school supplies, and-" He looked at Harry's bathrobe in disgust. "-purchase you some decent clothing."

Harry's face heat up in shame.

Before Harry could wallow in his embarrassment any further, Snape continued on with his lecture, fixing him with his dark eyes. "The Headmaster has already warned you about the rules concerning your safety. However-" At this his voice lowered to an even more stern tone. "-you are under no circumstances allowed out of the safety of my quarters without an escort, and not without my express permission. Is that perfectly clear Mr. Potter?"

Harry's heart sunk. It sounded as though he were going to be a prisoner in Snape's quarters.

"But sir, does that mean that I can't go around the castle or visit Hagrid, or-"

"It means just what I said Potter. You are not permitted to take one breath without my permission. Is that clear?" he asked again, but this time glaring at Harry in a way that suggested what his answer had better be.

"Crystal," Harry said resentfully.

"I would watch my tone, if I were you Mr. Potter, or you may find yourself in detention, scrubbing cauldrons with me for the remainder of your stay here."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Now, as I was saying, once you are cleared for normal activity, we will purchase your school supplies, as well as some-" His lip curled in disdain. "-decent apparel. We will discuss a more specific schedule later, but I believe that your time would best be served bringing your school work up to an acceptable level." He looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Perhaps we can use this time to hone your pathetic potions skills."

Harry sighed. Yeah, this was going to be a really long three weeks.

"I also expect you to keep your room presentable, and make your bed each morning. I expect you to address me with the utmost respect and-" He looked at Harry sternly. "-foul language will not be tolerated."

Harry rolled his eyes. With his head down of course, so Snape wouldn't notice.

--

By the time that Madam Pomfrey cleared Harry for normal activity days later, Harry was thoroughly sick of resting and doing homework. He desperately wanted fresh air. He begged and pleaded with Snape to allow him to visit Hagrid.

"I've consulted with the Headmaster, Mr. Potter, and he's agreed to allow you some time with Hagrid on your agreement to certain conditions. You may spend two hours with him each afternoon, but you are not permitted to visit with him other than the allotted time, nor will you make the trip to his hut unescorted. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Harry nodded excitedly.

"If you abuse this privilege, you will be confined to my quarters for the remainder of your stay. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

So, that was how Harry found himself with his face smushed up against the large man's broad chest, in a one-armed hug by the kind-hearted giant, the first day that Harry was allowed to resume normal activity. After Hagrid released him from the crushing embrace, he looked down fondly at Harry.

"Harry," he said with a huge grin on his rugged features. "It's good to see you lad." He took Harry gently by the shoulders, well as gentle as the big man was able to, and examined him from head to toe.

"You look healthy, Harry. Still a little on the thin side, but I see that Professor Snape is taking good care of you."

And Harry did look good. His face was flushed in a healthy glow for the first time in weeks, with the fresh, clean air of the Scottish Highlands. He had spent the morning revising his Charms essay three times before it was up to Snape's standards, and he still had to write the final version neatly tomorrow.

It was agreed upon, or rather, it was ordered-and Harry obeyed-that Harry was to spend two hours each morning studying, then lunch, then he was allowed to visit with Hagrid. It seemed to Harry that his whole day was divided into two hour increments. After his visit with Hagrid was over, Snape insisted that he rested for another two hours, and then Snape was going to tutor him in Potions. Oh joy!

After Severus walked Harry down to Hagrid's hut, he spent the next two hours preparing the base for the potions that he would brew with Potter. Although the Headmaster had agreed to Potter's visit with Hagrid, Severus did not agree that it was safe. He didn't trust the soft-hearted man to keep Potter in line, nor to understand the danger the boy was really in. The man was like putty in Potter's hand; Hagrid was like a child himself. He felt very uneasy leaving the boy in Hagrid's care, but he felt more uneasy that he worried over Potter at all. Dammit, he cursed himself. He had almost added the wrong ingredient, yet again. He really had to get the brat off of his mind, or he would cause an explosion the likes of Longbottom's.

--

Harry climbed up on the large stool in Hagrid's hut, a big grin lighting up his pale face.

He chuckled when Hagrid placed a large teacup and saucer before him, and a large cauldron cake. Harry knew that one bite and he'd probably chip a tooth, but it felt so wonderful to be sitting here across from the large man, Fang sleeping on the floor in the corner, with his large paws covering his floppy ears.

"So Harry," Hagrid began, "what's this I hear 'bout your relatives not treatin’ you right?"

Harry's felt his face heat up. "Uh, yeah, -um, I'd really rather not talk about it Hagrid, if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course Harry. Didn't mean to pry."

"That's okay Hagrid. Maybe some day I'll tell you about it, but right now, I-"

"That's okay Harry, you don't have to be explaining to me. I'd like to sic Fang on that fat slob Dursley." The large man's face contorted in anger.

"Hey-" Hagrid jumped up suddenly upturning the table and clattering the cups and silverware. "What'dya say I show you some new little creatures that I got a really good deal on from my buddy in Diagon Alley./"

The corners of Harry's mouth lifted. He could only imagine what creatures Hagrid had gotten hold of now!

And as soon as they went outside, Harry's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Uh Hagrid, what is that?"

A large, purple creature which looked very much like a one-eyed porcupine, with its quills quivering, looked at Harry; studying him, with his large blue eye. Harry shivered.

"That's a Dragupine," Hagrid announced proudly.

"A what?"

"A Dragupine. Part Dragon, and part porcupine."

Harry jumped back suddenly when the creature opened its mouth and a streak of purple flames came spewing out. Then, Harry ducked when it started darting out quills, and one lodged in the large oak tree behind where Harry's head had been a moment ago.

"Now, Ned, that's not a very friendly thing to do, now is it?" Hagrid scolded the now chastened creature.

Harry though, thought that he would just as soon keep his distance.

Just as Harry had recovered from his scare at nearly being quilled, he jumped when Fang, who had been watching the whole incident with bored indifference, suddenly lifted his head, bared his teeth, and began growling.

Harry whirled around quickly to see what had caught Fang's attention.

The hair on Harry's arms stood on end, when two familiar dark eyes, that belonged to a very large black dog, once again stared back at him. Before Harry had a chance to be properly terrified though, Fang went barrelling after the unknown canine, with Hagrid in tow.

If Harry's legs didn't suddenly feel as though they would cave beneath him, he would have appreciated the humour in seeing Fang chase after a big black dog, and Hagrid chasing after the two of them yelling, "Come back here, you crazy creature."

"Fang!"

Harry could hear Hagrid's booming voice echo through the forest, as it got further and further away.

Although Fang was large and quite scary, he was just too big and sluggish to be very fast, and lost track of the large dog quite quickly.

Both Hagrid and Fang came back fifteen minutes later, empty-handed.

Hagrid didn't seemed fazed at all about the incident and Harry told himself that he was overreacting, but he couldn't get the image of the large, wolf-like creature imprinted on his retina, out of his mind. This was what--three times now, he'd seen the dog? The other two times he had written it off as his over-active imagination, and seeing shadows in the night, but this time, there was no denying what he'd seen. Icy shivers rippled up his spine. Was the dog following him? And why did he have this strange feeling that it all tied into Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban?

-----------

"Mr. Potter- focus," Snape snapped impatiently. "You must crush the Shrivelfigs, not mash them."

Harry was seething. What the hell was the difference between mashing and crushing for Merlin's sake?

Severus took a deep breath to still his rising impatience. This boy was hopeless at Potions, and no amount of private instruction was going to change that fact. The boy had obviously not inherited Lily's inherent talent for Potions. He was Potter's son through and through, he thought acidly.

Harry wanted to throw the slimy creatures right in the old bat's face. He was actually getting quite frustrated at his own incompetence, but he still blamed the evil git for making him fumble with the small cutting instrument which required extreme dexterity. Of course Harry's hands were shaking so badly, that every time Snape barked out an order or an insult, Harry's quivering fingers just wouldn't obey.

"What do you think I'm doing, you slimy git?" Harry grumbled under his breath.

Of course, Snape had not earned his nickname of The Bat of the Dungeons for nothing. He had acute hearing to go along with his seeming ability to read minds.

"I think perhaps that after we're finished here, you will scrub those cauldrons until bedtime, Mr. Potter," Snape said in a silky voice, pointing to a large pile of sooty cauldrons that almost reached the ceiling.

Harry groaned. His fingers were already aching and raw from chopping those squirmy little bugs. He'd really have to learn to not let his big mouth betray him.

When Snape proclaimed it was bedtime, Harry was never so happy to lay his head on a soft pillow.

Fortunately for Harry, the rest of the week went a little more smoothly. It seemed that after the fiasco that was his Potion lesson the first night, Snape controlled his impatience somewhat, and Harry forced himself to pay careful attention to Snape's instructions, with the result that Harry found himself actually looking forward to their nightly brewing sessions.

Oftentimes, Harry even found his way to the lab during his scheduled self-study sessions, and simply read a book in the corner while Snape brewed. Ron would think I'm positively barmy, Harry thought ruefully, that I'm actually voluntarily spending time in the lab with Snape. Strangely enough though, Harry found it calmed him, with the soothing aromas of the brewing potions sifting through the air, and Harry actually found himself seeking out Snape's company, rather than be by himself studying. Eventually, they fell into a quiet routine, and Harry had to admit that staying with Snape was not the ordeal he had imagined it would be. Yes, the man was still cool, aloof and bad-tempered, but if Harry was careful to be respectful and obey the rules, the man was not as prickly as in a classroom setting. The trick was to find the balance.

-----------

"Sir," the tall, blond Auror called out to his superior, as he stepped over the charred objects strewn over the dusty, ash-stained carpet. The walls were smeared with cinder and soot; the canvas of the charmed paintings slashed—their occupants having vacated their frames long ago.

An older man with dark hair, peppered with grey turned to look at the object that the younger man had picked up. He stared at the shiny wooden box that had escaped the effects of the explosion and subsequent fire, as it had been hidden under a panel beneath the rug.

"What do you think it is, sir?" the younger man asked curiously.

"I'm not sure." He pointed his wand at the lock and said "Alohomora," but the box remained firmly shut. "Perhaps there is a key hidden there as well." He pointed to the hidden compartment.

The blond man kneeled down and stared inside the empty, black space. He shook his head. "There is nothing else in there, sir."

"Well, we'll bring it to Headquarters and have the Department of Magical Mysteries take a look at it. It could be cursed."

"Yes sir."

"Any sign of Black, Richard?"

"No sir, I think that if he was here, he's long gone now."

The older man nodded and motioned for the other Aurors to follow.

They stopped when they reached the end of the pathway; they shivered when they read the dedication that was imprinted on the sign swinging back and forth with the strong gusts of wind, accompanying the cracks of thunder, and the crackle of lightening that illuminated the midnight sky...

This plaque dedicated to:

Lily and James Potter, who lost their lives on the fateful night of October 31, 1981.

They will be forever remembered for their bravery in the face of You-Know-Who.

Harry looked out the window and groaned. It wasn't fair. He wanted to be outside in the fresh air running around the hillside with Fang in tow. But no. He was sitting here revising his Potions essay for the fourth time, because the greasy git wouldn't let him step one foot out the door until it was up to his bloody standards.

When Snape had handed it back to him the third time with red marks littering the page, Harry wanted to throw it back it the bat's ugly face. But Harry bit his lip and trudged on, making all the corrections that Snape had specified.

Harry looked it over again, and sucked in a deep breath. He knocked lightly on the door to Snape's laboratory, hesitantly opening the door when he heard a deep voice say, “Enter”.

Snape looked up with a stern look on his face. “You have made the corrections I've specified?”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes sir.”

“Give it to me then. I certainly hope that you've put a bit more effort into it this time, unlike your pathetic attempt you made this morning..”

Harry held his breath as Snape's cold black eyes scanned the page. After what seemed like hours, Snape raised his dark eyes and handed the parchment back to Harry.

He nodded his head, making his limp hair fall in front of his pale face. “Satisfactory, Mr. Potter.”

Harry's eyes lit up. Finally, he was going to be able to go see Hagrid.

"However, I expect a better effort in your studies from now on, or your visiting privileges will be revoked, is that understood?" he asked sternly.

"Yes sir." He looked up at Severus expectantly.

Severus nodded. "Very well then, you may visit with Hagrid for an hour before dinner."

Harry was disappointed that he didn't have more time, but he wasn't about to argue, lest the Potions master forbid him from visiting Hagrid altogether. Harry had never mentioned the incident involving the black dog the other day, for fear that Snape would overreact and confine him to their quarters. Visiting Hagrid was his favourite part of the day.

---------

They walked in silence down to Hagrid's hut. Harry stole a quick glance at the solemn man's face. It was set in a emotionless mask.

"I will be back in an hour's time, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. "Yes sir. Thank you."

It was a little chilly this afternoon, and Harry was glad now that Snape had forced him to put on a thick jumper.

As usual, Hagrid greeted Harry with a big grin, and put his large hand on the boy's shoulder. "Good to see ya Professor, Harry. I was beginning ta think you weren't gonna make it today.”

"Yes well, Mr. Potter has responsibilities that must be met before he is allowed to visit." He looked down sternly at Harry. "Perhaps, in the future Mr. Potter will take his studies a little more seriously."

Harry clamped down on his teeth. No, I won't tell the giant bat where he can stick it. I won't tell the greasy git that one of Hagrid's Dragupine's made much better company then he did. Even when you had to duck when they became a little agitated! Harry felt a little twinge of guilt for having these thoughts. The man had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go, taken care of him and protected him, and here he was thinking all these awful thoughts about him. Okay, so Snape could be a royal pain in the arse at times, and more prickly than a Dragupine, but he deserved respect nonetheless, for all that he'd done to help Harry.

"Yes sir," he forced himself to say politely.

"Very well; in an hour then." Harry watched the tall man walk up the hill towards the castle, thinking what a contrast it was to see Snape's long robes ripple with the grass instead of billowing in a dark cloud behind him.

Harry went off with a happy grin in the large man's embrace. Hagrid and Harry sat sipping tea, eating cauldron cakes, or rather Harry pretended to eat cauldron cakes, while slipping them secretly to Fang behind him. This time when Hagrid showed him his newest acquisitions, Harry kept his distance.

All too quickly, the hour passed and Snape came back to pick him up.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with us after dinner Mr. Potter," Snape said with a look that suggested that he was not pleased at this newest revelation.

"About what sir?" Harry asked curiously.

"You'll find out soon enough Potter," Snape said with a scowl.

Harry knew better than to ask again. Harry had found out the hard way that Snape did not tolerate whining. If Snape's warning look didn't remind him, then the ache in his hand from writing "Only toddlers whine and since I'm not a toddler, I will not whine", two hundred times, certainly brought the lesson home.

"Go get washed up for dinner Mr. Potter. You smell like one of Hagrid's creatures. Perhaps we should keep you in a pen as well.”

Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Just when he was beginning to think that Snape wasn't so bad after all, he had to make a snarky comment. Once a git always a git.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter, tomorrow I would like for you to see Madam Pomfrey, so that she may assess your condition."

"But sir, I feel great," Harry insisted.

"Well, that may be the case, but I would prefer to be certain. Although you are on normal food, you still eat only enough to feed a bird, and while you've possibly gained a couple of pounds, you still look like I could snap you in half."

Harry flushed. He looked down at his over-large clothes. Snape had mentioned again that they would be purchasing new clothes next week, and had already performed a shrinking charm on some of his old ones, but since he was only going to visit Hagrid, and would most likely come back with soiled clothes anyway, Snape had not insisted that he dress in his best. Of course, he didn't really have any "best" clothes.

Severus looked at the frail child with the clothes that looked like they would fit a baby whale, and had to fight down his outrage against those pathetic Muggles again. He had a feeling that there was much more to this story than met the eye; that the abuse was much more severe than the boy let on. While he would never claim to be particularly fond of children, he could not abide abusing one either. A little twinge of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach when a little voice in the back of his head piped up, saying that the Muggles were not the only one who had abused the boy. Though he had never laid a hand on the child, Severus knew that he'd used his hate against the senior Potter as an excuse to torture his son. But looking at the vulnerable child, with the large emerald eyes and knowing what he knew now, he realised that he would never look at Potter the same way again.

"Go wash up Mr Potter."

"Uh, yes sir," Potter said wearily.

After Harry allowed himself a few moments of letting the warm water fall on his face, he quickly exited the shower, dried and dressed in clean clothes. Harry was actually surprised to see fresh, clean clothes that he hadn't seen before, laid out on his bed. Harry shook his head. The man was really a mystery.

Harry allowed himself a quick look in the mirror and ran the comb through his wet hair. Was it his imagination or did he look a bit different? Nah, he thought. It was just probably because of all the weight that he'd lost, that his cheekbones looked a little sharper. Of course that didn't explain why his hair seemed a little bit smoother and behaved a better as well... He shook his head, sending droplets of water, splattering onto the mirror.

'How rude," it said pertly. Harry leapt back in shock. It was the first time that the mirror had ever spoken to him.

"Uh, sorry." Harry answered sheepishly.

Harry wondered if he had imagined the mirror speaking to him, since it looked perfectly normal now. He shook his head and hurried out of the room quickly before Snape reprimanded him for taking too long. He did take another quick peek back at the mirror, however.

Harry hurried into the parlour, only to find Snape there tapping his foot impatiently.

"Dinner will be over soon Potter.”

This wasn't going to be easy. Changing his mindset towards the boy. He wasn't even certain when he'd made the decision to do it, but all he knew was that part of him wanted to hold on to his hatred--it was safe and familiar to think of the boy as an extension of Potter, but the other part of him, the part that only saw Lily's eyes when he looked at the boy, was having a hard time connecting the two. As painful as it was to even think that this boy was Lily's son...Lily's son with Potter, it was more painful to look at those eyes and be reminded that this was not his son, but James'.

Where the hell did that thought come from? Severus admonished himself.

"Let's go Potter," he said gruffly.

---------

"Harry. Severus," Dumbledore greeted with a warm smile and twinkling blue eyes.

"Hello sir," Harry said shyly.

Severus only nodded. He knew why they were here, and was not particularly pleased about it.

"You're looking well my boy," Dumbledore said to Harry. "You still need to gain a little weight, but I'm pleased to see that Severus has taken good care of you."

Harry remained silent, looking down at his toes.

"Can we please get on with it Albus," Severus said impatiently.

"Yes, of course Severus.”

"Well Harry, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that the Weasleys are back from their holiday, and as they are planning on spending a couple of days at the Leaky Cauldron, so that they may obtain their children's school supplies, I have arranged for you to do so as well."

Harry's eyes lit up in excitement. "Really? That's great sir. Thank you."

"Yes, I have reserved a room for you and Professor Snape. He will accompany you to obtain your school supplies as well."

Severus rolled his eyes. Yes, this was going to be so much fun, being saddled with a horde of Weasleys.

----------------

"Harry," a chorus of voices greeted him as he entered the crowded room of the Leaky Cauldron.

Before Harry knew what was happening, he was looking up into the smiling faces of the Weasley clan.

"Harry dear, so good to see you," Mrs. Weasley gushed, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

Mr. Weasley, as usual was standing on the sidelines. He nodded. "Harry...Severus, nice to see you."

Harry was overwhelmed at the smiling faces that greeted him.

A big grin lit up Harry's face. That is, until he noticed Snape's scowl.

Ron noticed Snape's scowl as well, and smiled uncertainly at Harry while casting nervous glances at Snape.

Suddenly, a bushy head peeked out from behind George and Fred.

"Harry." Hermione bravely came and gave him a big hug, making Harry's face heat up.

Suddenly she drew back, shyly, realising that Snape was observing the whole scene with a sour look on his face.

She stood for a moment studying him. "You look different Harry," she said thoughtfully, chewing on her bottom lip.

Hermione thought so too? Before he had a chance to contemplate it further, Snape interrupted.

"Well I think that it's time we settle into our room Mr. Potter. You may visit with your fan club later," he sneered.

Harry bit his tongue.

"Yes, perhaps that is best," Arthur agreed.

"But dad," Ron whined, "Harry just got here."

"Yes, and you'll have plenty of time to visit with him later. We'll meet back here later, Severus? After you and Harry settle in?"

"Yes...later." Severus nodded. "Come Potter. I think perhaps a short rest before dinner is in order."

Harry looked aghast. "But sir, I'm not tired."

"Nevertheless, you will rest. We had a busy day today, and I have a feeling that this evening will be anything but tranquil," he said with disdain; he looked at the swarm of too-happy children, who looked as though they had overdosed on sweets. One look at the colourful bag labeled Zonkos, clutched in the youngest Weasley's death-like grip, confirmed his suspicions.

"Yes sir," Harry grumbled.

"Now Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said kindly, "Professor Snape is right." She patted him lightly on his slender shoulder. "You need to preserve your energy. We have a big night ahead and tomorrow, we'll be going to Diagon Alley to fetch your school supplies. You don't want to be over-doing it now, do you dear?"

"No Ma'am," Harry replied obediently. Secretly, he thought that adults all stuck together. He wasn't made of glass, for Merlin's sake.

Of course, there was no point in arguing. Even though Madame Pomfrey had cleared him for normal activity, within reason, Snape seemed to feel that it was his mission in life to make sure that Harry took care of his health. Honestly, at times he was like a male version of Mrs. Weasley, always fussing over him. Harry chuckled to himself. Just imagine Snape's face, were he to ever suggest such a thing. The man would probably put him in detention till he graduated.

True; they had visited every shop in Hogsmeade that day, purchasing new apparel for Harry. From undergarments (to which Harry had objected to buying in Snape's presence), jeans, and dress trousers, a couple of casual robes, a cloak, socks, jumpers and trainers. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had given Snape money to buy his clothes, but when he had inquired, he had been abruptly and firmly told that it was not his concern. And when he had offered to pay for them with his parent's money from his vault at Gringotts, Snape's eyes had flashed dangerously, and he told Harry in no uncertain terms what he could do with "Potter's" money. Harry wasn't sure whether to be offended at the slight to his father, or feel gratitude that Snape was concerned whether he was properly dressed or not--until, it occurred to Harry that Snape was probably too embarrassed to be seen with him dressed as a vagabond.

When Snape proclaimed that he was permitted to rise from the admittedly very comfortable bed hours later, Harry was frothing at the bit to see his friends.

"Go wash up, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his lip curled. "And put on one of your new garments; throw the others in the trash, they're not fit for a vagrant," he scorned.

That was one order that Harry had no trouble obeying. He had a brig grin on his face as he dangled a pair of Dudley's large trousers and tee-shirt over the rubbish bin. It was like the end of an era. Dumbledore promised him that he'd never have to go back to the Durlsey's. Harry suddenly felt a jolt of panic. If he really wasn't going back to the Dursleys ever again, where was he going? Harry felt incredibly insecure all of a sudden. Would Dumbledore send him to live with the Weasley's? They'd always welcomed Harry into their family, but they had so many children already. Harry's stomach churned a little with anxiety. He tried to tell himself that he trusted Dumbledore to keep his promise to make sure that he would always be looked after and safe.

---------

Harry had managed to forget all of his previous worries, and was looking forward to seeing his friends. It was all a matter of split-second timing really. Snape managed to make it safely out the door, and halfway down the corridor, before Harry, who had no sooner clasped the door handle... one foot out the door--his body following, when his other foot, barely managing to follow, slid underneath him, as a large grey rat, and a bright orange ball of fur, came barreling towards him, passed through the middle of his legs in a flurry of fur and loud squeals, and sent Harry unceremoniously on his arse.

Just when Harry finally found his feet, he was spun around by a charging Ron, screeching, "Scabbers, come back here."

Harry looked wide-eyed at his best friend. What was that all about?

Harry just managed to avoid landing on his bruised behind once again, by flinging himself against the wall as now Hermione fled down the hall, trailing behind Ron.

"Crookshanks, come here...there's a good kitty," she cried anxiously.

Snape, who had been watching the whole drama unfold, had his arms folded and was smirking at Harry.

Harry just glared at him.

Harry peeled himself off the wall, and rubbed his smarting bottom.

------------------

"Keep that menace away from my rat," Ron's voice echoed through the halls of the stairwell.

"You should take better care of your pet, Ronald," Hermione said in a haughty tone.

Harry stood on the bottom step, surveying his friends, his lips quirked in a small smile. It was like watching a boxing match--with Ron in one corner, an angry scowl on his face, clutching his terrified rat who wormed his way into his cardigan, and Hermione in the other, holding onto a pug-faced feline, that was fighting against Hermione's restraining hold, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to gobble up Ron's rat and have a succulent treat.

"I do take care of Scabbers, I'll have you know," he said indignantly. "He can't help it if tha-that poor excuse for a cat attacks Scabbers." He pointed at Scabbers, trembling with emotion.

"He does not attack Scabbers," she retorted hotly. "And your rat is a poor ex-"

"Hey guys," Harry interrupted discreetly. He really didn't want his best friends arguing.

"Harry," they both exclaimed excitedly, forgetting their argument, at least temporarily.

"I'm so glad to see you Harry, but-," Ron looked around, and lowered his voice, as Snape went to join Arthur and Molly who were off to the back of the pub, looking as though they were arguing. "I can't believe that Dumbledore made you stay with the greasy git."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "He is a professor."

"Yeah, a greasy one," Ron agreed.

"Uh...Ron," Harry began uncomfortably, "Snape hasn't been too bad actually. I mean, he-" Harry hesitated at Ron's look of disbelief. "I'm serious Ron, Snape took really good care of me when-" Harry's face flushed in embarrassment.

"When what?" Hermione asked softly.

"Uh, nothing. Nothing at all," he said quietly, scuffing the floor with his trainer. "The point is that Snape was well... okay--so he wasn't nice exactly, but he did feed me, and he didn't beat me, and-" Harry stopped when he realised what he had said.

Hermione's face froze in horror, when she figured out what Harry hadn't said. "Harry," she said, emotion choking her voice. "Did the Dursley's...hurt you?"

Ron's face turned red. "Did they, mate?" He asked angrily. He'd already known since last year, that they starved Harry and treated him badly, but he hadn't realised that his aunt and uncle had possibly been abusive.

Harry's felt his face heat up in shame. He turned away, but Hermione gently clasped his arm. "Harry?'

"I don't want to talk about it Hermione," Harry whispered. "Please." He looked at her with pleading eyes.

Hermione nodded in understanding. She shook her head at Ron, whose hands were fisted tightly and looked like he wanted to race over to the Dursleys and thrash them within an inch of their sorry lives. Of course the fact that he was only thirteen hadn't crossed his mind.

"C'mon," Hermione said, "let's go talk; we have so much to catch up on."

"Yeah mate," Ron nodded his head. "I've got to tell you all about our trip."

Harry smiled at the both of them. He was so lucky to have the best friends in the world.

Harry was grateful to have a distraction and he easily allowed himself to be led over to the table filled with noisy, boisterous Weasley children. He smiled when he heard Fred and George talking about some new pranks that they were going to release on some unsuspecting prey at Hogwarts.

Harry's head snapped around when he overheard Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice above the noisy crowd.

"But Harry's just a child. He doesn't need to be worrying about Sirius Black."

Harry's eyes widened.

"I'll be right back," he said to a surprised Ron and Hermione.

"But Harry, where are you going?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"I'll tell you guys later," he assured them.

Harry rushed breathlessly up the stairs, taking two at a time. He rushed to the room, and cursed himself for not realising that Snape had the key to the room. He took a deep breath, and fished in his jean's pocket for his wand.

Harry pointed his wand at the lock, and whispered "Alohamora," and wished fervently that he wasn't caught by the Ministry for using underage magic again. He didn't think that they'd be so tolerant this time.

The lock clicked, and the door swung opened quietly. Harry slipped in and began rummaging through his trunk for his invisibility cloak.

Harry slipped the cloak over his head, and quickly made his way back down the stairs, his breath hitching when, on the last step, the stair creaked, making Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Snape turn to look around suspiciously.

Harry pressed himself up against the closest wall to where they were situated, and listened in growing horror to their discussion.

"...makes no sense not to tell him," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and-"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly.

"Do you really want him going back to school, with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happy not knowing!"

"I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!" retorted Mr. Weasley.

"You know what Ron and Harry are like, wandering off by themselves"

Snape snorted. That was an understatement, he thought caustically. Potter, Weasley, and Granger beckoned trouble in and invited it to dinner. At Molly and Arthur's sharp look though, he composed himself.

"I tend to agree with Arthur, Molly. Fudge is deluding himself if he thinks that Potter won't go investigating this on his own. He's already suspicious, and as Potter has a habit of sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong--" he sneered.

Harry gritted his teeth. Git, he thought nastily.

--they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But Harry mustn't do that this year!" Mr. Weasly continued. "When I think of what would have happened to him the night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't of picked him up, I'm prepared to bet that he would have been dead before Severus found him."

He looked at Severus gratefully. "Thank Merlin that you happened to be at the Leaky Cauldron, Severus."

Depends on how you look at it, Severus thought acerbically.

"But he's not dead, he's fine, so what's the point-"

Arthur clenched his teeth in frustration, and gave a look to Severus, that said, I could use your help here.

"Arthur is right Molly. The man is deranged. Who knows what he's capable of," Severus said, his lips thinning. He's already killed Lily. My Lily.

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one has heard neither hide nor hair from him," Arthur pleaded with her. "And I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet; we're no nearer to catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing that we know for sure, is what Black's after-"

"We don't know that for sure," Molly said stubbornly.

Arthur threw his arms up in frustration.

"Perhaps you can talk some sense into her," he said to Severus.

Severus leant down slightly to fix Molly with his dark eyes. "Arthur is right, Molly. Sirius Black is a deranged killer, and he wants Potter dead.”

Ron's jaw dropped in horror. “Are you sure mate?”

Harry nodded; his throat was too clogged to speak. It was no wonder that everyone was acting strangely, when a madman was out for his blood. Stan had made a reference to Sirius Black having been a big supporter of Voldemort.

Harry stuffed the cloak back quickly into his trunk. He had dragged Hermione and Ron up to his room, so that he could speak privately with them, but he knew that soon the adults would be looking for them—him especially.

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows. “But why would he be interested in you?”

"Ow, Scabbers ... calm down," Ron yelped when the rat tried desperately to flee again. He had just managed to maintain his hold on the slimy creature as his eyes bulged out. Crookshanks began to claw and hiss when the rat snuck from the protective grasp that Ron had on him between the folds of his jacket.

“Because he's a follower of Voldemort, that's why,” Harry said angrily.

Ron flinched when Harry said the name Voldemort, instead of You-Know-Who.

Suddenly, Ron's rat began to squeal loudly and Crookshanks growled.

"Uh, Ron maybe you'd better put him away," Harry said worriedly. He didn't like the glint in Crookshanks’ eyes.

Ron looked at Crookshanks with a scowl on his face. "Yeah, I guess I'd better."

Ron looked down at his rat affectionately. "Poor Scabbers, he hasn't been looking too well. I had to get him a tonic at the pet shop and everything, and then she-" He jabbed his finger in Hermione's direction. "-goes and buys that psychotic cat.”

"He's not psychotic," Hermione huffed. "Come dumpling. I'm going to put you away because some people have poorly behaved pets." She stomped off angrily.

"Honestly. I told her not to buy that thing, but did she listen? No!" Ron groused.

Harry peered closer at the trembling rat that had nuzzled his nose in Ron's shirt. "Uh ... Ron, he's missing a-"

"-A paw; yeah I know. Well, Percy had him for twelve years, before I got him, and Merlin knows how old he was then."

"And he's still alive?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yeah, crazy isn't it? The chap at the pet shop couldn't believe that Scabbers was that old. Was quite insulting really." Ron hugged his rat closer.

Personally, Harry couldn't blame the guy. It was really the scruffiest, scrawniest rat that Harry had ever seen. His ear was even chewed. He really was a pathetic creature, the poor thing. And those bulging eyes of his- Harry shuddered. He really was a creepy-looking rodent. There was just something that Harry couldn't pinpoint, but the rat made his skin crawl.

"C'mon, let's go," Harry urged. "Snape watches me like a hawk, and I don't want him suspecting that I know anything."

"Yeah okay; let me just put Scabbers back in his cage."

------

Snape gave Harry a suspicious look as he and Ron came down the stairs.

"Where have you been hiding, Potter?"

Harry patted his sweaty palms on his jeans. "Uh ... well Ron just had to put his rat back in his cage, sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry and Harry squirmed under his glare. He got the feeling that the man didn't believe a word he had just said, but he simply pursed his lips and went off in a swirl of robes, in the other direction; presumably to talk with Mr. Weasley, who had been staring at Harry since the moment that he and Ron had stepped down from the last step.

Harry and Ron went to join Fred, George and Ginny, who were excitedly huddled around a large table in the corner, looking at the Daily Prophet. Percy looked on, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and a haughty expression on his face.

Harry looked at Ron questioningly.

"Look," he pointed to the picture of himself, and his family on the front page of the paper with the caption:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Harry grinned. "You won the lottery?" He patted Ron on the back. "That's great news mate."

"Yeah, and we went to Egypt," Ron explained excitedly. "We saw the Pyramids and Mummies."

"I'm so happy for you," Harry said sincerely. And he was. If anyone deserved to win the lottery, it was the Weasleys.

"Yeah, and look," Ron said, pointing his finger at the paper. "Even Scabbers had a good time."

Scabbers’ eyes darted back and forth, looking up at the camera nervously.

Harry couldn't help but think that the timid rat looked anything but happy that he was having his picture taken. Ron kept turning the creature's head towards the camera, but Scabbers was resisting him furiously.

"So," Hermione said as she joined them. "Harry, you never really told us how it came about that you were staying with Snape."

Ron's head perked up at that as well.

Damn, Harry thought. He had really been hoping he wouldn’t have to explain that.

Harry beckoned them over to a table in the corner. They took a seat and ordered a round of Butterbeers from the same blonde beauty that had served Snape and Harry, the night that Harry had run away. A look of recognition flickered in her eyes. Harry was wondering how she even remembered him. He had been a mess that night. Probably because of his scar, he thought bitterly, as he patted his fringe down on his forehead.

"Well, actually..." Harry began, avoiding direct eye contact. "I sort of blew up my Aunt Marge."

Ron's jaw dropped, and Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"You what?" Ron asked incredulously.

Harry took a swig of Butterbeer. "Well, she was being a right old bitch, and I'd had enough, and I kind of lost my temper, then, I-uh-ran away. I took the Knight bus to The Leaky Cauldron, and who should I run into ... literally, but our favourite Potions master," he said with a grimace.

Ron burst out laughing, and Hermione swatted his arm.

"Ron, it's not funny. Harry could have gotten expelled for using underage magic."

"Actually, I'm lucky that I didn't end up in Azkaban."

Ron looked horrified. "Don't even joke about that mate. I've heard it's guarded by Dementors."

Harry's eyes crinkled in confusion. "Dementors?"

Ron shivered. "Yeah, they suck the life out of you and make you feel like you'll never be cheerful again. At least that's what I heard. Azkaban is the most horrible place that you could ever be. It's impossible to escape"

Harry felt tingles up his spine. "So how did Sirius Black do it then?"

Hermione and Ron shook their heads.

"They don't know Harry, but now that you know that he's after you, you've got to be a lot more careful." she said sternly.

Harry smiled warmly at her. "Yes Mum."

Hermione blushed. "Well, it's true, Harry. What you did was very foolish. Thank goodness that Professor Snape was there to take you in."

Ron looked at Harry oddly. "But I still don't understand. Why Snape, and how come Dumbledore didn't send you back to the Dursleys?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well ... you know. He probably thought that it was safer for me to stay at Hogwarts--with Sirius Black on the loose and all."

Ron accepted that excuse, but Hermione was still thinking about Harry's slip-up about his relatives earlier. Harry was clearly holding something back from them, and she had a feeling that it had to do with his relatives’ treatment of him.

-------

The next morning, Harry's stomach fluttered with excitement. He was going to be getting his school supplies today, and he was looking forward to hanging out with his best friends in Diagon Alley. He wondered if he could convince Snape that a trip to Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour would be in order. He was really hoping that Snape wasn't going to cramp his style too much with his friends.

While Harry sifted through the stack of crisp new clothing, his heart sunk as his hand clasped onto a crumpled piece of paper. The Hogsmeade Permission Slip. Uncle Vernon's signature had been conditional upon Harry's good behaviour throughout Aunt Marge's visit. He didn't imagine that blowing her up counted. Unless ... he asked Snape to sign it. Yeah right! As if Snape would ever agree to it, now that he knew that Sirius Black was after him.

Harry smiled in a mixture of horror and amusement as his trunk started to shake and rumble, and he looked down and saw Hagrid's birthday gift sitting at the bottom of the trunk. Harry had received it at the Dursleys, along with his other standard birthday greetings, and presents from the Weasleys, Ron and Hermione. There was a cryptic note attached to it that read,

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday!

Thought that you might find this useful for the coming year. Won't say no more here.

Tell you when I see you.

Harry's stomach had clenched at the salutation,

Hope those Muggles are treating you right.

All the best,

Hagrid.

Harry's hands had fumbled nervously ripping open the plain brown paper. After all, who knows what sort of gift Hagrid would send. Sure enough, Harry jumped back in horror, and a, well...what could you call it? A book with fur? And five beady eyes, and large pointy teeth that snapped at him, when he tried to open it? Written on the cover, was the title, "The Monster Book of Monsters." Harry had had to throw his shoe on top of it and tie his belt around it.

And during the time that Harry had spent with Hagrid during the last three weeks, Hagrid refused to tell him anything. He said that he had to wait till term began ... that it was a surprise.

Staring at the book now, Harry scratched his head. Why on earth would Hagrid send him such a book? One could only wonder when it came to Hagrid!

"Hurry up, Potter," Snape snapped at him, making Harry jump. He stashed the book quickly back into the trunk, but the book was clearly not pleased, and rattled the hinges on the old trunk as it quivered and shook. Finally, it seemed as though the book realised that it was going nowhere and quieted down. Harry sighed in relief.

"It is impolite to keep the Weasleys waiting while you take your time deciding what to wear," Snape sneered.

Harry ground his teeth. So what if he wanted to savour the feeling of having a choice of what to wear, for the first time in his life. He let his hands slide over the cool cotton of his new shirts, and the smooth textures of his trousers, jumpers and warm wool socks for the coming winter. And the best part of it was that the clothes actually fit him properly.

"Potter!"

Fine, Harry grumbled to himself. Harry was quickly learning to keep his thoughts to himself. He wouldn't put it past the man to put a stop to this much anticipated outing as punishment for being insolent.

"Yes sir," he said obediently, and rushed to get washed and dressed.

--------

Harry grinned as he took in the sights of Diagon Alley, Droves of students and parents were rushing about madly to do their last minute shopping. It was September first tomorrow, and Harry was excited about the beginning of term, even if he had been there already for the past three weeks. After all, it had been a little lonely with only Snape and Hagrid to keep him company. Now the term would begin, and he'd be back in the Tower with his friends. The only black spot on the whole thing was, one ... he had a deranged murderer out for his blood, and two ... he'd probably be stuck in the castle while all the other third years and up were visiting Hogsmeade.

He wondered if there was anyone else who'd be willing to sign that permission slip. Maybe he could forge his Uncle's signature. Somehow, though, he didn't think that it would make a difference if he had his uncle's permission or not. Dumbledore would probably force him to stay close to the castle, just as he'd done all summer ... with Snape as his guard dog.

Harry was thankful that Snape seemed to be in deep conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and except for the occasional glance backwards, with a lift of the eyebrow, to warn him to behave and to not wander off (as if the long and stern lecture, with many threats of long monotonous detentions, were not sufficient), he walked ahead of them, so Harry was free to enjoy the company of his, for once non-bickering companions, who had left their pets at The Leaky Cauldron.

One thing that Harry loved about Diagon Alley, was the colourful array of Wizarding society that graced its streets. Tall wizards, short wizards, with green hair, orange hair, purple and yellow hair, long tresses wound in buns atop their heads, or hanging down the back of their colourful robes in plaits, small children with lollipops of all flavours and colours, and elderly wizards with white beards that touched the cobblestoned streets as they hobbled along with their canes-- nothing was too strange. Severus pursed his lips disapprovingly at the horde of blonde children who were whining and tugging onto their harassed-looking mother's flowing robes, begging for her to buy them miniature brooms.

Harry then noticed a clutch of children, of all ages, crowded around the window pane of his favourite store of all time; the Quidditch shop that specialized, in brooms and Quidditch gear of all kinds. Harry nudged his way in closer. His breath hitched when he saw ... on a podium that was set up in front of the window, placed proudly on a red velvet cloth draped over the podium, the most beautiful broom that he'd ever laid his eyes on. Written on a gold plaque attached to the burnished wood of the podium, was engraved the words, "Firebolt" with a lengthy description of its attributes beneath.

His interest was piqued when he overheard a young boy's excited voice, "Prototype just came out. The fastest broom on earth, isn't it dad?" he asked excitedly as he looked up eagerly into his father's face.

His father looked fondly down on his young son. 'Yes son, it's the favourite of the World cup, and the Irish side has ordered seven of them."

"Wow," the young boy squealed in delight.

Harry couldn't help but wish Snape had allowed him to make a visit to Gringotts before coming. It was very tempting. He could just picture Malfoy's face if he were to purchase the fastest broom on earth. He'd leave the annoying Slytherin in a cloud of dust, as he bolted to the skies, before Malfoy even made it off the ground. The Quidditch Cup would surely be Gryffindor's if Harry had a Firebolt. Unfortunately, Snape had again told him quite firmly that children were not expected to buy their own school supplies, and that he should just purchase what was required and ask no further questions. Harry was burning with curiosity as to who was paying for all the new clothes that Snape had bought him only yesterday, and the school supplies that they'd yet to buy today.

Harry exchanged looks with Ron, who had just come up behind him, and knew that the redhead was thinking the same thing as Harry, that if their team only had Firebolts, then they'd win against Slytherin for sure, and rub it in Malfoy's smug face afterwards.

"Potter." a deep voice growled behind him. "Move it; we want to finish shopping, sometime before the sun sets.”

Trust Snape to ruin the moment, Harry thought caustically. No one could ruin a good time better than the greasy git of the dungeons. Harry wished that he had been able to come on his own, and spend his own money. He could have taken his time, and he could buy what he wanted without worrying about how much it cost. But then a twinge of guilt twisted in his stomach. Snape had been surprisingly generous the past few weeks, and he was acting like a spoilt brat.

"Sorry sir," Harry attempted to say politely.

"Severus, would you like to attend to your own purchases," Molly asked, as she pointed to the apothecary, "while I take Harry and the other children to purchase their books and robes?"

Severus nodded gratefully. Yes, he would love to ditch the horde of noisy, hyperactive children. He'd kill for a few minutes of peace while he took a relaxing jaunt down the aisles of potions ingredients and inhaled the relaxing, familiar aromas. He was also looking forward to chatting with the Potions Master who ran the establishment, about the newest discoveries in utensils and cauldrons and brewing methods.

Snape gave Harry a stern look, "You are to behave yourself, Mr. Potter, and obey any direction that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley give you. As well, you will not wander off on your own. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well," he said as he retrieved his pocket watch from his robes.

Harry thought it very odd at how the man seemed to be inclined to use Muggle methods and surround himself with Muggle items. In an odd sort of way, he reminded Harry a bit of Mr. Weasley. Although, Mr. Weasley had no clue what the items that he so desperately collected, were used for.

"We will meet in about two hours, let's say," Mr. Weasley suggested.

Severus nodded. Two hours of quiet bliss, without whiny children in tow. How could he possibly refuse?

"Yes, that is acceptable."

"Well, then children, let's be on our way," Mrs. Weasley said, as she put a plump arm around Harry and Ron's shoulder, to gently urge them on their way.

Both Harry and Ron took one last, longing look at the Firebolt and sighed resignedly.

"So my mum says that the Ministry is sending cars tomorrow to bring us to the train station," Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione.

Harry's stomach plunged. "Probably because of me," he sighed.

"Harry, don't feel bad," Hermione soothed. "They just want to make sure that you're safe, that's all. It's just a precaution, nothing more."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, that's all," he agreed.

But Harry couldn't help but shiver, as they passed, yet another of wanted posters of Sirius Black plastered all over Diagon Alley and the Leakey Cauldron.

"Here we go children," said Mrs. Weasley, as she stopped in front of Flourish and Blotts. Once inside, Harry went searching for the books on his list. He was taking two new courses this year, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination.

Harry's jaw dropped when he saw the book that Hagrid had given him in a cage under lock and key!

A weary-looking clerk approached him. "I suppose that you want one of those," he asked resignedly.

"Uh, no thank you sir. I already have that book."

The clerk look relieved, that is ... until Ron came over, dragging Mrs. Weasley with him.

"Look Mum," Ron said, with eyes as wide as saucers. "It says here that I need that book for Care of Magical Creatures."

Mrs. Weasley snatched the list out of Ron's hands, and as her eyes scanned the list, her shoulders slumped.

"Oh dear," she sighed. "I suppose you're right."

Harry felt a twinge of pity for the clerk, as his lower lip trembled, and he reluctantly went to open the cage.

Harry wandered to the back of the shop, searching for the books on his list. His heart started pounding, when he came upon a book with the caption, "Death Omens: What to do when the End is coming." It had a picture of a large black dog on the front cover. It looked sort of like that dog he’d seen through his window. Harry could feel the goose bumps pop up on his arm.

"Can I help ya, laddie?"

Harry jumped.

Harry pointed to the book. "What does that mean sir? I mean--if you see that dog?"

"Aye, the Grim, ya mean?"

"The what?"

"The Grim," he repeated. "Legend has it, that those who are slated to die will see an omen of death beforehand."

Harry's mouth went dry. "You mean, that if you s-see, the Grim, that means you are going to-to di-die?"

The kindly clerk clasped Harry gently by the shoulders and led him off to the front of the store. "Now Laddie, you don't wanna be readin a book like that. You'll be seein death omens everywhere," he said knowingly.

Harry was in a daze, as Mrs. Weasley dragged him and the other children from shop to shop, purchasing their books, and then their robes. Ron especially had grown several inches, and of course the twins seemed to grow faster than weeds. It was quite depressing really, Harry thought. He'd barely grown at all in a year, and even Hermione was at least as tall as him, if not slightly taller.

At least Ginny, who kept sneaking adoring glances at him, was still smaller than him.

Exactly two hours later, Mrs. Weasley dragged them into the Apothecary where they met up with Snape, who scowled at having his peace interrupted by a horde of ill-behaved Weasley children, and one, small, messy-haired boy, who looked too much like James Potter for comfort ... or did he?

It must be the light, he thought. He could swear that Potter's cheekbones were just a little sharper than they had been, and his hair didn't look quite as messy as it had before. No, Severus admonished himself, the boy was, and always would be a carbon-copy of James Potter. But with Lily's eyes, a little, unwelcome voice intruded on his thoughts. Severus scowled.

Mr. Weasley had somehow disappeared somewhere along the way, only to reappear suddenly outside the Apothecary at the specified time.

"Did you settle the matter that we spoke about?" Severus asked mysteriously.

"Mr. Weasley nodded.” Yes Severus, it's all arranged."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Harry couldn't get the image of the Grim out of his mind.

"Come Potter," Snape's deep voice interrupted his musings.

Harry looked up in surprise. "Sir?"

"Come with me, and we'll collect your potions ingredients," he elaborated.

Although Harry was a little reluctant to leave his friends, he couldn't help the odd feeling of pleasure that Snape wanted to help him acquire his potions supplies. Harry was quite certain that Snape would have jumped at the chance to get rid of him at the first opportunity; he only took Harry in out of duty to Dumbledore, after all.

"Yes sir."

Ron scowled.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't about to refuse Snape's request, after all. Ron didn't have to know that he really hadn't wanted to either.

---------

Never before had the employees of the Department of Magical Mysteries felt so frustrated and incompetent. They stared at the battered box before them, and scratched their heads. No less than six DMM employees, four Aurors, two top aides to the Minister of Magic, and the Minister of Magic himself had attempted to perform every charm, spell, or hex that they could think of ... to no avail. The box refused to open.

And, so it was that on this ... once again, dark and stormy night, the same Aurors who had found the box originally, returned to Godric's Hollow, to hopefully find some answers.

As they searched through the debris the rain splattered on the smoky window panes, and the loud crackles of thunder echoed eerily through the night air. Suddenly, there was a large roll of thunder, and an enormous bang, making them all jump. They rushed to look out the window. The large oak tree that had once stood in the front garden was now lying on the ground; it's large trunk charred, and split down the middle where the lightning had obviously struck it.

It was strange how grown men, all but one, experienced Aurors, could feel a shiver run up their spines simply because lightning had felled a tree.

"Come," the dark-haired man ordered sternly. "We have work to do."

The younger man, Richard, turned to obey, but a movement in the window caught his eye.

He shook his head. I must be imagining things, he thought when a second look only showed the wind whipping the tree branches back and forth and the heavy rain pounding on the ground.

"Richard," a deep voice reprimanded. "Move away from that window at once, and join in the search. We all have families to get home to. We don't have all night to indulge in childish fears."

His face flushed. "Yes sir," he mumbled.

Just as he was about to turn however, lightning illuminated the window frame, and two dark, smouldering eyes, belonging to what looked like the Grim, flashed for an instant before his eyes, and then the image disappeared with the lightning.

Spooked, he hurried to join his colleagues, as fast as his shaking limbs would carry him, daring to turn his head and take one last peek out the window. But the image was gone. Perhaps he'd imagined it, but nevertheless, he felt tingles of fear dance up his spine.

The Aurors worked tediously for the next couple of hours, searching once again with a fine tooth comb, every nook and cranny they could find. Just as they were about to admit defeat, Richard's foot stepped on a loose floorboard, close to where they had found the original hidden compartment. The floorboard flipped up, almost knocking him in the eye, but there, under the floorboards was a frayed and yellow piece of parchment, rolled up and secured with a red ribbon.

Trembling fingers fumbled with the ribbon, and unrolled the parchment hesitantly.

Gasps of shock echoed through the hollow walls of the cottage.

Printed at the top of the Scroll, and written in Calligraphy-style writing, were the words,

Last Will and Testament of James and Lily Potter

As they unfurled the parchment further, a large gold key clattered on the hard wood floor. They exchanged glances. Could this be the key for the box? But no ... as they scanned the document, it was clear that the key was for James and Lily's vault at Gringotts.

So, James and Lily's will was at Gringotts? Or was the will in the box that they'd already discovered? One thing was clear; they were still no closer to figuring out how to open the mysterious box. But it would seem that the answers lay at Gringotts.

Harry squeezed the crumpled ingredient list with his sweaty palm, and rushed to keep in step with Snape, as his brain attempted to process the man's observations and lectures.

Harry's face had heated up after Snape raised his eyebrow when Harry had asked him if he needed to look at his list for Potions class.

“Powdered root of Asphodel, Belladonna, Billywig parts,” Snape muttered, as he continued plucking the jars off the shelves. He swept down the aisles of the Apothecary, his robes flowing behind him.

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but be impressed. After spending the last three weeks with the man; helping him in his lab, spending hours, side-by-side brewing potions together, he realised that this was a man who loved the art of Potion making as much as he did breathing. He watched the man, deep in thought and concentration; it was almost as if Snape transformed into a different person when he brewed, or was lost deep in thought about Potion making; Snape was in his element.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said, as he stopped abruptly, placing one last jar in the basket. Harry fidgeted under the intense gaze. "I need to speak with you about an important matter."

"Sir?"

"Come," Snape said, firmly placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, and leading him to the back of the store.

Harry's stomach swirled in anxiety as Snape pulled his wand from his robes' pocket, slashed it through the air and whispered a few words in Latin. Harry shifted from foot to foot, and waited anxiously as Snape remained silent for several moments; his dark eyes boring into Harry's.

Finally, he spoke. "There are some things Mr. Potter," he began, tracing his lips with his long finger, "that some, including those at the Ministry, would prefer I not tell you."

Harry looked up at him in mock innocence. "And what would that be sir?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at him. "As I'm certain that you are well aware, there is a convicted killer on the loose," he said, a vicious look transforming his already harsh features.

Harry nodded. "Sirius Black you mean, sir?"

"Yes," Snape said in a deadly whisper.

"But what has that got to do with me sir?" Harry asked, schooling his features to appear as though he didn't already know Snape's answer.

"Sirius Black is a dangerous man... a convicted killer." Snape leant forward to tower over Harry. "A follower of the Dark Lord, who would like nothing more than to get his hands on disobedient little boys who like to stick their noses where they don't belong.”

Harry bristled at the term, "Disobedient little boy."

Snape leant in even closer, until Harry could feel his hot breath on his cheek. "And you are to stay away from him... understood, Potter?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Stay away from him? Shouldn't it be the other way around?

"But sir...why would I go looking for someone that wants to kill me?"

"Just do as your told Potter," Snape snapped.

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

Severus studied Harry's face for a moment. He sincerely hoped that the boy would do as he was told for once in his life. Knowing Potter as he did, however, he seriously doubted that the boy would obey him and stay securely within the confines of the castle. He pinched the bridge of his nose. No...Severus was certain that he would be, once again, running after James Potter's spawn, trying to keep one step ahead of him, to save his sorry hide. Oh Lily... I'm trying to keep your son safe, but Merlin the child attracts trouble like a magnet; goes looking for it...in forbidden places.

"I hope so Potter, because if I find out that you've disobeyed me-" He straightened up to his full, menacing height, towering over the slight boy; putting on the most fearsome expression he could muster up. "-if Sirius Black doesn't finish you off, then you'll have to deal with me." His dark eyes gleamed. "Do I make myself clear?"

Harry gulped.

Severus smirked in satisfaction at the look of fear that flitted over the boy's face. He was, contrary to popular belief, trying hard to change his mindset toward the boy. Perhaps if he instilled some terror into the boy, he would not act so rashly. Wishful thinking Severus, a little voice taunted.

Although Snape looked very menacing, looming over him...so tall, and fixing him with his dark eyes, Harry could have sworn that he saw a fleeting look of concern come over the man's sharp features. But no... Snape wouldn't be concerned over him... Would he?

Harry nodded again. "Yes sir."

Severus glared at him for a few minutes longer for good measure, and then waved his wand once more to lift the privacy spell.

"I do believe that there are a few more items on your list that we need to acquire, including a new cauldron," he sneered. "I took the liberty of checking to make sure that all of your Potions supplies were in order and discovered, much to my chagrin, that your cauldrons are burnt to the point of rendering your potions useless, or even dangerous because of a possible chemical interaction."

Harry blushed. He had made a right mess of his cauldron at the end of last year's Potions class, when he had mistakenly turned the flame too high, and had mixed two highly acidic compounds together, practically melting the surface of the cauldron.

They began their search through the aisles of cauldrons and utensils, Harry listening attentively as Snape described the various advantages of using a stainless steel, copper or even a gold cauldron, depending on the potion that was being brewed.

Severus noted with pleasure that the boy seemed to be paying rapt attention to his teachings for once.

He looked down into Harry's young face and got a jolt of surprise at the interest that he saw reflected there. He ignored the little stab of guilt that rose to the surface at the thought that perhaps if he had exhibited the same patience with the boy that he had in the past three weeks, then perhaps Harrywould have succeeded in his class.

Severus smirked at the boy. “You do realise, Mr. Potter, that after your performance these past few weeks, I will be expecting a higher standard of work from you?"

Harry's jaw dropped. Did the man just compliment him? Harry could feel his face heat up, and he looked up shyly at his professor. How was he supposed to reply? "Yes sir," he said finally. That was always a safe thing to say. The man would never object to being referred to as sir, nor Harry replying in the affirmative to a direct order from him.

Snape nodded. "Come. We must finish up and meet the Weasleys at a small establishment near Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It would seem that your little friends have convinced their parents, that after stuffing their face with unhealthy food like greasy chips and burgers," he said caustically, "that they must absolutely consume a large ice cream sundae, sopping with mounds of sugary chocolate sauce, whipped cream, cherries, and other sweets. As if you lot were not already high on sugary confections from your earlier foray into every sweet shoppe on Diagon Alley," he said disgustedly.

Harry grinned, but sobered up quickly at the scowl on Snape's face. What a great end to a great day.

Yes, he may have a maniacal murderer hot on his heels, but all in all...life was good, Harry thought. He was free from the Dursleys forever; he would, for the first time since ever, have brand spanking new clothes to wear, that weren't three sizes too big for him, to start the new year off with. Professor Snape had actually given him a compliment...even if he had looked like he'd sucked on a lemon while doing so, he had spent the day with his friends in Diagon Alley, and they were going to have ice cream. Harry remembered when he had tasted his first ice cream there; he'd thought that he was in heaven. After all...Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never have allowed him to have ice cream. Ice cream was a treat, and freaks did not deserve treats.

---------------------

Harry couldn't stop grinning. Of course, part of it had to do with the fact that he was sandwiched in between Fred and George, who kept whispering in his ear, making silly jokes and revealing some of the pranks that they had up their sleeves once they returned to Hogwarts. The other reason that he had a silly grin pasted on his face, was because he was savouring the most delicious banana split that he'd ever had in his life. Well, technically...it was the only Banana Split that he'd ever had in his life, and it tasted heavenly.

Harry had been sure that after the huge meal of burgers and chips that he'd had at "Tastes like Magic", the new wizarding restaurant, that he'd never find room for the large dish of ice cream sitting before him, but although his belly felt like it would explode, he still felt a sense of peace and happiness course through him. Although his future was certainly unstable, and he tried not to think of where he would live next summer, or if Dumbledore would appoint another guardian to be responsible for him during the school year, Harry made a concentrated effort to simply enjoy the moment.

Harry looked up to see that, once again, Snape was off to the side, speaking in hushed tones with Mr. and Mrs. Wesley. Every so often, Mrs Weasley's sympathetic eyes darted over to him. Harry pretended not to notice.

As they headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione, Ron and Harry trailed behind Snape and the other Weasleys, so that Harry could fill them in on Snape's warning.

"So, Snape told you about Sirius Black?" Ron whispered.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, he warned me that Sirius Black was after me, but then he said something really strange," Harry said scrunching up his eyebrows.

"What Harry?" Hermione asked.

"He said that I was not to, under any circumstances, go after Sirius Black," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "What did he mean by that?"

"I don't know. I mean, why the hell would I go after a deranged murderer."

"That is very odd," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Well, I don't know why Snape would warn you about something like that-" Ron said, as he pulled something round and shiny, that looked like a glass spinning top, out of his trousers' pocket. "-but, I bought this for you; when Mum and Dad weren't looking, I snuck into this new store that sells all sorts of gadgets to protect against Dark Wizards and stuff. Consider it a late birthday present. This way you'll know if you're in danger, and Sirius Black is around," he said, slipping it secretly to Harry. "It's called a Pocket Sneakascope."

"How does it work?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well... you see that dial there?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that dial will spin around, it'll flash, and make loud noises if there's danger within an inch of where you're standing," Ron explain, eyes as round as saucers.

"Thanks Ron," Harry said gratefully.

"Percy, of course, thinks it's a load of rubbish, because it went off at dinner, for no reason." Ron chuckled. "But what he didn't know is that Fred and George put Beetles in his soup."

Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval, but Harry laughed.

"Yeah, he's been a right, stuck-up prat, since he got his Head-boy badge." Ron rolled his eyes. "Thinks he's bloody important, he does. You'd think that he's got something stuck up his-"

"Ron!"

"Well, it's true Hermione. Ever since he's got the badge, he bosses us all around. He's going to be a nightmare when we get to Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head, and pointed to the Sneakascope. "Just because you have that Harry, doesn't mean that you can go running about," she said sternly, wagging her finger at him.

Harry ignored a flicker of irritation. She was only trying to help, after all.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I realise that Hermione."

Hermione looked at Harry with a wounded expression. "Well, I'm only saying that you have to be extra careful Harry."

Harry felt a wave of guilt. "I'll be careful Hermione...I promise."

Hermione looked relieved.

As soon as they entered the Leaky Cauldron, Snape turned to Harry.

"I believe that it's prudent that you retire for the night Mr. Potter."

Harry's face dropped. "But Sir, it's only nine o'clock, and I'm not tired."

"Be that as it may Potter, we have to be up early, as the Ministry is sending cars to accompany us to Kings Cross."

Mrs. Weasley put an arm gently around his shoulders. "Professor Snape is right dear. You have a big day ahead of you, and you need all the rest you can get," she said kindly. She then turned a stern eye on Ron, Ginny and Hermione.

"You three ought to be getting to bed as well," she said as she shooed them all towards the stairs.

"But mum, we're not little kids," Ron whined.

Mr. Weasley addressed his son with a stern look on his face. "Do NOT speak to your mother like that!"

Ron froze. His mum was usually the disciplinarian in the house, and it was extremely rare that his father interfered, but Ron knew better than to argue with his father when he used that tone of voice.

"Upstairs now!" he said firmly, pointing towards the stairs

Ron blushed at the reprimand, but hurried to obey.

Alone in their room, Snape turned to Harry. "Prepare for bed Mr. Potter," he ordered.

"Yes sir."

With one hand clutching his red flannel pyjamas, and the other clasping the brass doorhandle to the loo, Harry looked up at Snape shyly.

"Sir? I just wanted to- uh, I mean, uh-" he stammered.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Spit it out Potter," he snapped.

Harry blushed. "I just wanted to thank you for everything sir," he said quietly. "I mean, the new clothes, the school supplies, everything..." he trailed off.

Snape nodded stiffly. "That's quite alright Mr. Potter," he said uncomfortably. "Now go get changed," he ordered, " and then...bed."

"Yes sir."

After the boy was soundly sleeping, and safely tucked into his bed; (He had simply made sure that the child was covered up warmly. After all… wouldn't want Potter to catch pneumonia after all the time he'd spent nursing the boy back to health.) Snape went over and stared down at the boy.

What an enigma the boy was. He looked so much like his father, or at least he had. Severus had had to stifle a gasp of shock earlier, when the boy had removed his glasses, and he'd noticed that Potter looked less like his father than he had only a few short weeks ago.

Severus pressed his fingers to his aching temple. The boy was beginning to look less and less like Potter, and more and more like...well, he really wasn't sure. Yes, Potter had Lily's eyes, and he felt a stab of pain shoot through him everytime the child looked at him with those haunted emerald eyes. Severus knew that in the past, he'd reacted badly to those eyes staring back at him from James Potter's face. Mostly by being harsh with the boy. Usually though, he experienced a painful pang of guilt afterwards for having treated Lily's son in such a manner. He'd never let on of course, of his ambiguous feelings about the boy. Better to keep that to himself. But now...being in close proximity to the boy, day in day out; having seen how closely Potter's familial situation resembled his own, Severus couldn't ignore the growing confusion over his feelings for the child.

The boy still looked more fragile, and pale than his classmates. He'd gain some weight, but he still looked as though his scrawny arms could be snapped with little effort. Severus felt a twinge of annoyance with himself that he worried about what would become of the boy, once the term began. Who would be responsible for the boy? Surely the Headmaster would never entertain the notion of sending the boy back to those horrible Muggles? Severus knew that he could never allow that to happen. But, his responsibility for the boy would end soon, and he'd go back to simply being the boy's professor. Severus chose to ignore the small stab of pain that that thought elicited. No...it was better to go back to hating the child. He couldn't afford to think of the boy as anything but an annoying thorn in his side.

Severus forced his gaze away from the sleeping child. He'd never admit it, but he desperately wished that Lily's son was his son. He wished with all his heart that he could turn back the hands of time and change the bad decisions that he'd made. He'd bollicksed every good thing that had ever happened to him, and it all began with a decision that he would regret till his dying day; having pledged his allegiance to the monster that would be responsible for taking away the only woman he'd ever loved.

Severus slipped out of the room quietly, but not before placing a monitoring charm over Harry. He needed a little space to get his thoughts together, but he dared not leave the boy unguarded. The spell that he'd placed over the boy, would cause Severus' wand to glow in the event that the boy was in danger, and a protective shield would prevent any harm coming to Potter. At the very least, it would provide the boy some protection until Severus could return.

-------

"What can I get you Severus?" The burly innkeeper, Tom asked, as he watched the tall, dark man try to find an elegant way to climb up on the high bar stool, while attempting to unfurl his long black robes, which had wrapped itself around the legs of the bar stool.

"Whiskey straight up if you will Tom," Severus replied stiffly.

Tom nodded. It was rare for Severus Snape to come into the bar, but when he did, Tom knew better than to ask any questions.

Of course, the reserved man would never let on that anything was bothering him. Tom knew that Severus Snape was not a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, but one look at the man's face, which looked even more the colour of sour milk, than usual, and simply the fact that the proud man was sitting on a bar stool, sipping on whiskey; a thick layer of smoke swirling through the air, and the stench of drunken wizards assaulted the nostrils, spoke volumes about the man's frame of mind.

Two hours later, Severus unwarded the door to his room, slipped inside and rewarded it against intruders, and tried to convince himself that the strange feeling that washed over him when he saw that Potter was still sleeping peacefully in his bed, where he'd left him, and was safe and sound...was not relief.

-----------------------

Harry's stomach fluttered with both excitement and trepidation as he stared at the back of Snape's billowing robes, his trunk thumping down the steps behind him.

Harry shook his head when he spotted Ron and Hermione, once again facing off and bickering over their pets.

"Whether or not I forgot to lock Scabbers' cage, is besides the point. That cat is a menace...pure and simple."

Hermione glared fiercely at him.

"Your little girlfriend has a point Ronald," Percy said haughtily. "You really need to learn some discipline and responsibility."

Hermione wasn't sure whether to be appalled that Ron's brother had called her his girlfriend, or grateful that he'd taken her side.

Ron scowled at him. "Shut up Percy. Why don't you go shine that little badge of yours again, for the thousandth time."

Percy's hand flew up to his chest, and began clawing at his robes. "Where's my badge?" he screeched. He looked at Ron accusingly. "What did you do with it?"

"I didn't touch your damned badge," Ron retorted hotly.

"Keep your grubby little paws off my possessions," he screamed loudly, as his face flushed a deep crimson.

"I. Told. You. I didn't touch your bloody badge," Ron said through gritted teeth.

Harry was sure that steam would come out of Percy's ears as the boy almost turned purple. He spun around and stomped up the stairs muttering and griping under his breath about how he had to put up with infantile brothers, and the unfairness of it all.

Fred and George began snorting and guffawing loudly.

"We've got his badge," Fred whispered to Harry.

"Yeah, we've been making a few little improvements on it," George grinned.

"We've changed it from Head Boy, to Bighead Boy," Fred sniggered.

Harry tried to stifle a laugh, as he heard Percy stomp back down the stairs, waving his badge in the air, and yelling so loudly that the sound reverberated against the walls of the narrow stairwell.

Fred and George each grabbed Harry and Ron's arms and whisked them off to a dark corner, until they figured it was safe to come out.

Ron's face was contorted into a mixture of a scowl and a grin. "You do realise that he's going to blame me, don't you?"

"Don't worry little Ronniekins." George patted him on the head.

"Yeah, little brother," Fred grinned. "We'll protect you from the big bad Percy."

"I'm serious guys," Ron said worriedly. "He's already accused me of dripping tea on a photo of his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater," he grimaced."Now she's hidden her face under the frame, and won't come out because her nose is all blotchy."

"Potter," a deep voice barked.

Uh oh.

Harry made his way back over to the pile of trunks, and owl cages containing, Harry's owl Hedgewig and Percy's owl, Hermes, to face Snape who had his arms crossed against his chest, and glared down at Harry over the tip of his overly large nose.

"You are not to go wandering off on your own Potter," Snape snarled. "I thought that I made that clear."

Harry felt his face heat up.

"I'm sorry sir," he said, looking down at his shoes.

"Come, the cars are waiting," he said coolly.

Harry nodded.

"Yes... come everyone." Arthur motioned for his children to follow him and Molly.

"Why is the Ministry sending cars father?" Percy asked in a snooty voice.

Snape, Molly and Arthur exchanged a look.

Harry felt his heart flutter again. It was easy to forget the danger he was in, when he was enjoying himself with his friends, but every so often, reality hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, and took his breath away.

"Because your father is now an important Ministry official," she responded in a forced voice.

Percy gave her a disbelieving look, but let the matter drop. He had managed to return his badge back to normal, and sported it proudly on his Hogwarts robes. He made a point of adjusting it. He preened with self-importance, and turned to Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

"Well...we mustn't keep them waiting then...children," he said in a condescending tone.

Ron balled his fists tightly and Harry rolled his eyes.

Yes... this was going to be a very interesting year indeed, Harry thought to himself.

-------

"I am Minister Fudge, and this is Chief Auror Rogers, and we are here on official Ministry business," he announced importantly, as he puffed up his broad chest.

Griphook eyed the rotund man suspiciously. He was not impressed at all.

"And what business would that be?" the goblin asked, a sour look on his face.

Fudge handed him the scroll with the instructions for the Potter's will.

Griphook unfurled the scroll, and his beady eyes scanned back and forth across the page.

"We need access to Potter's vault," Fudge demanded.

Griphook shook his head, making his pointy ears wiggle. "I'm afraid that that is not possible."

Fudge's eyes flashed dangerously. "I order you to open that vault."

Griphook may have only reached the minister's bellybutton, but it was as though he seemed larger then life, as his small, dark eyes smouldered with anger.

"And I'm telling you, that you have no authority here, and I have strict instructions not to open the vault for anyone other than those given permission to do so."

Rogers laid a hand on the Minister's arm to calm him. As an Auror, the man knew when to assert his authority, and when diplomacy was called for...and this was clearly one of those moments when calm reasoning was in order.

"Sir," Rogers said, sensing a respectful tone would have more of an impact here. "Could you please tell us who is authorized access to this vault?"

Rogers held his breath as the goblin appeared to be considering his request.

"I am not at liberty to say."

Rogers gave a warning look to Fudge, when it looked like the man's temper would explode again.

Rogers took a deep breath. "Please sir...this is of the utmost importance," he pleaded.

Griphook remained silent for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. He snapped his fingers, and another, smaller, younger goblin immediately appeared at his side.

"Yes sir?"

"Gornuck, get me the name and address of the Barrister responsible for the Potter's vault."

---------

"Is Barrister Von Schmidt expecting you?" A young, pink-haired girl asked, as she blew bright pink bubbles and chomped down on a mouthful of bubblegum.

Fudge became flustered. "I am the Minister of Magic, you empty-head-"

Rodgers stepped in front of the agitated man. He was clearly becoming unhinged when it became apparent that yet another of his lowly subjects failed to yield to his obvious authority and importance.

"Miss?"

"Call me Lola," she said, batting her long, pink eyelashes. He's cute, she thought to herself. Even if he was a little older than her, he was a very distinguished-looking man; with his salt and pepper hair, and sexy blue eyes. She felt a stab of disappointment, when she eyed his wedding ring, but then dismissed the minute detail that the man had a wife, and most probably little ones at home; after all...it's not like she ever let that minor detail stop her before.

Rogers took a deep breath. "Lola...would you be so kind as to let Barrister Von Schmidt know that we are here. This is very important Ministry business."

Lola rose, and smoothed down her very short mini skirt, and leant over the desk; her low cut bodice, revealing her very large bosom.

Rogers felt his face warm up.

"Of course, Mr.-"

He licked his dry lips. "Wayne. Uh-, Auror Wayne Rodgers, and Minister Cornelius Fudge."

"Ooh...you're an Auror. You must be so brave," she oozed, as she batted her eyelids again.

She smiled sweetly at him, and he couldn't concentrate on anything but the way her bottom wiggled with her skin tight skirt, as she walked away.

"Sir...Auror Wayne Rodgers here to see you. He says he's here on important Ministry business."

"Send him right in Lola."

Fudge glared at Rodgers. This was the second time he'd been all but ignored today, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Maybe you'd better have a cold shower," he sneered.

Rodgers flushed.

"Minister Fudge," a deep baritone voice exclaimed.

A very large man with grey hair and friendly blue eyes, who was so tall that both men had to crane their necks back, came around from his desk and came to tower over them both in his long, dark robes.

"Lola didn't tell me that you were here as well, Minister."

That's not surprising, Wayne thought caustically.

"And you are Auror Rodgers, I assume?" the big man inquired, offering his hand.

"Yes sir," Wayne replied, and grimaced as the large man grasped his hand in a painful handshake.

"Call me John," he said with a smile.

"Have a seat," he said, motioning towards two comfortable arm chairs, and sat down behind his desk. He laced his large fingers together and looked inquiringly at Fudge and Rodgers.

"So...what can I do for you two gentlemen?"

Fudge leant forward and handed John the scroll. "We understand that you may be able to help us with this."

John's eyes widened as he read the scroll. "How did you obtain this?" he whispered.

"Godric's Hollow," Rodgers replied.

The large man cleared his throat, and Wayne could see that he was visibly shaken. "I see."

"Along with a locked metal box," Rodgers added. "That we haven't been able to open."

"So..." the Minister leant forward in his seat. "Can you help us? We need to access the Potter's vault."

John looked at them with a stunned expression. "I'm afraid that is impossible Minister. Only the persons specifically named in the will may open the vault, or be privy to the contents of the will. And all parties must be present at, not only the reading of the will, but the spell used to access the vault is based on a complex, ancient blood magic that requires the blood of the three persons specified. If even one party's blood is absent, then the vault will not open."

Fudge balled his fists in frustration. "So what is the problem then? Notify the parties involved and be done with it," he snapped. "Why have you not done so already? The Potters have been dead for twelve years."

"Who are these three parties anyway?" Wayne asked curiously.

John remained silent for a moment, and then replied in a voice so quiet, that Rodgers and Fudge, almost didn't hear him, when he replied.

"Severus Snape, Sirius Black and Harry Potter."

You could hear a pin drop, and then Fudge jumped up from his seat.

"You are actually telling me that James and Lily Potter have named a convicted killer and a Death Eater in their will?" He asked incredulously.

"Are you sure about this?" Rodgers asked.

"There are actually two more named in the will, but yes...Severus Snape and Sirius Black, along with Harry Potter, are crucial to opening the vault, and revealing the entire contents of the will."

"This doesn't make any sense. James and Lily were not close friends with Snape; as a matter of fact...Potter loathed the man, and the feeling was mutual. Why in Merlin's name, would they name him in their will? And Sirius Black? This is impossible. He's a convicted killer, a fugitive from the law..." Fudge screeched.

"And so you see my dilemma gentlemen," John said, spreading his hands out berfore him. "The opening of the vault rests upon the shoulders of a maniacal serial murderer who is on the lam..."

Harry's stomach swirled with anticipation and apprehension, as he stomped his foot down with a clang on the metal stair of the Hogwarts’ Express. He almost jumped out of his skin, when the shrill sound of the train's whistle tooted, and the shiny smokestack, puffed clouds of smoke. Harry took one last look back at Mr. And Mrs. Weasley standing on the platform, waving; Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her cheeks and eyes that were moist with tears, with her white, lacy handkerchief, and waved with her other hand. Mr. Weasley's eyes were crinkled with worry, as he waved absent-mindedly at his children boarding the train.

Snape on the other hand, looked like he was enjoying himself, Harry chuckled to himself, as he stalked from one end of the platform, to the other, robes billowing and rising as he barked at students to get a move on and docked points, with malicious glee.

“So, where'd you want to sit?” Harry asked, biting on his lower lip. Every seat seemed to be occupied with excited students of all ages, leaning out the open windows to wave a final goodbye to their families.

“There's place in this one,” Hermione said as she yanked on the handle to the door, pulling it back to reveal a pale-faced, dark-haired man, eyes closed, with his head leaning against the window-pane.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, and stood hesitatingly on the threshold of the compartment.

Hermione placed herself in between the two friends, and looped an arm around each of their shoulders. "Come," she prodded them.

"Do you think that he's really asleep?" Ron asked, eyeing the rather battered-looking man worriedly. His robes were worn-looking, and tattered, and although he was quite young, his hair was flecked with grey and his peaceful face was marred with scars and a gash under his right eye.

"Dunno," Harry answered uncertainly, "but, I wonder who he is."

"His name is Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione pointed out smugly.

"And just how do you know that?" Ron asked, annoyance lacing his tone.

Hermione pursed her lips and pointed to the battered suitcase sitting on the rack above their heads, inscribed with the name, Professor R.J. Lupin.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Wonder what he teaches," Ron muttered thoughtfully, as he plunked himself down beside the slumbering man.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione said haughtily. "I mean...it's got to be Defence Against the Dark Arts. It's the only vacant position."

Ron's face flushed; his freckles blended into his face, as even his ears turned red. "Showoff," he mumbled under his breath.

"Well, I really hope that he's a lot better than our last two Professors," Harry said sincerely.

Ron scowled. "Can't be any worse, can he?"

The corner of Harry's mouth lifted. "No, I suppose not. I mean...one tried to kill me, and the other tried to Obliviate me. He's not got very large footsteps to follow, now does he?" Harry said dryly.

Hermione sighed. "No, I suppose not."

"I wonder what this year is going to be like," Harry pondered thoughtfully.

Ron leant forward in his seat. "Well mate, apart from the fact that you have a deranged murderer after you, I think that it's going to be a great year."

"Gee thanks Ron. I was kind of hoping to put it out of my mind. And just why then, do you say it's going to be such a great year?

Ron grinned. "Cause we get to go on Hogsmeade visits this year...that's why."

Harry's face crumpled. "Yeah," he sighed, and looked out the window. Mrs. Weasley was leaning towards an open window in the next compartment, where Ginny had her head sticking out. She was fussing over her, and telling her to be careful.

Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice above the chattering of witches and wizards on the platform. "Now Ginny, remember...you must not go running off on your own, with Sirius Black on the loose."

Mr. Weasley happened to look up at that moment and caught Harry's eye. Harry felt a shiver prickle the back of his neck. Even Snape was standing there, arms folded against his chest; a warning look crossed over his stern face.

Yeah, this is really going to be the best year ever, Harry thought mournfully. Being stuck in the Castle, fearful for his life; a deranged murderer out for his blood...yeah, sounded like a blast.

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I heard that it's the only non-Muggle settlement in Britain."

"Yeah, I think that it is, but that's not why I want to go there. I can't wait to see inside of Honeydukes." Ron said, his face lighting up animatedly.

"What's that?" asked Hermione.

Ron grinned. It wasn't often that he could tell Hermione about something. Being a Muggle-born, all of her knowledge about the Wizarding world came from the books that she read; thirstily soaking up any bit of knowledge that she could. For once though, Ron could lecture her about something.

"It's a sweetshop," Ron said, a dreamy look coming over his freckled face, "where they've got everything...Pepper Imps--they make you smoke at the mouth--and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next-"

"But Hogsmeade is a very interesting place isn't it," Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery, it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack is supposed to be the most haunted place in Britain-"

"-and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was quite plainly not listening to a word that Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked at Harry.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for awhile and explore Hogsmeade?"

"I suspect it would," Harry said heavily, "you'll have to tell me all about it."

Ron narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the Dursleys didn't sign my permission slip before I ran away, and I wasn't about to ask Snape to do it," Harry elaborated.

Ron looked horrified. "You're not allowed to come? But -- no way -- maybe McGonagall will sign it for you. After all, she is your Head of House. Or maybe even Dumbledore?"

Harry looked at Ron disbelievingly. McGonagall could be every bit as strict as Snape was, and he doubted Dumbledore would sign it either, if he believed that Harry was in danger.

"--Or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the Castle--"

"Ron!" Hermione admonished. "I don't think that Harry should be sneaking off to Hogsmeade, or anywhere else, with Black on the loose."

"Yeah, I expect that's what Snape or McGonagall would say too," Harry said bitterly.

"But if we're with him," Ron argued, "Black wouldn't dare-"

"Oh Ron, don't talk rubbish," Hermione snapped at him. "Do you honestly think that Black is going to stay away from Harry, simply because we're there? Black's already attacked a bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street."

Hermione was fumbling with the straps on the straw basket sitting on her lap, which held a very agitated Crookshanks.

"Don't let that thing out," shrieked Ron, but it was too late, Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's lap; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled, and Ron shoved Crookshanks off his knees angrily.

"Get off," Ron screeched.

"Don't Ron," Hermione said angrily.

Suddenly, a faint, sort of tinny whistling sound went off, and they all looked around the compartment to see where it was coming from.

"It's coming from your trunk Harry," Ron said pointing up at the luggage rack. He stood on his tiptoes and opened the lid, pulling out the Pocket Sneakoscope from beneath the folds of Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Yeah, but it's a really cheap one. Goes off for no reason really."

"And are you doing anything that could be construed as suspicious when it goes off?” Hermione said shrewdly.

Ron chewed his lip nervously. "Well...it did go off, when Fred, George and I turned all of Percy's underwear pink, and tied his shoelaces together."

Harry chuckled, until Hermione glared at him sternly.

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry said quickly, as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

Harry nodded towards the Professor, who began to stir slightly.

Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a pair of particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, and closed the lid on the trunk.

"Now put that thing back," Ron said angrily pointing to Crookshanks, who began nudging his nose into Ron's pocket.

Hermione huffed, and leant forward to pick up the fluffy orange ball of fur from Ron's lap. "Come here Crookshanks."

She stroked the furry kneazle, and held him tightly against her, until his eyes closed, and he purred in contentment.

Suddenly, they could hear the crunch of metal against metal, the shrill screech of a whistle, the patting of the guards batons against the train doors; assuring that all passengers were securely boarded and all doors were safely locked in place.

The train lurched forward, making the bottle perched on the edge of the window sill, next to the sleeping professor, slosh back and forth, yet amazingly the bottle remained intact. They held their breath as the professor mumbled incoherently when he was jostled in his seat with the motion of the train, but then he settled back into a deep sleep.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north, and the scenery became darker and wilder while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing back and forth in front of their compartment door. Hermione had loosened her hold on the plump kneazle and he had settled into the seat beside her, eyeing Ron's pocket, with his yellow eyes.

"Do you think that we should wake him?" Ron looked over at the professor, when the plump witch came around at one o'clock with the food trolley. "He looks like he could do with some food," he said awkwardly.

Hermione leant over the professor cautiously. "Uh... Professor?" She shook his shoulder lightly. "Er...excuse me, Professor?"

"Don't worry dear," said the witch, as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes, "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he is still asleep?" Ron said quietly. "I mean," he said as he shifted nervously, "you don't think that he's died, do you?"

"No, no, he's breathing," said Hermione as she accepted a Cauldron Cake that Harry had offered her.

The three sat quietly, nibbling on their cauldron cakes, as the train moved towards Hogwarts. Eventually, towards mid-afternoon, it started to rain, and rain drizzled down the window panes. Harry stared out at the blurred images of the roiling hills and countryside. Lightening illuminated the now dark sky, and they could hear rumbles of thunder in the distance.

Suddenly, they heard loud footsteps outside the compartment door, and the door slung open to reveal their three least favourite people; Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle.

"Well, look who it is," Malfoy said in his usual lazy drawl, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sneer. "Potter and the Weasley."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.

"I heard that your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer Weasley," mocked Malfoy. "And went to Egypt too. Too bad they didn't wrap you up like a mummy."

Crabbe and Goyle started to snicker.

Ron jumped up quickly, his fists clenched and his face flushed with fury; he knocked Crookshanks' basket to the floor and the professor snorted.

"Who's that?" asked Malfoy, taking an automatic step backwards when he spotted Lupin.

"New teacher," said Harry, who had gotten to his feet also, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying Malfoy?

Malfoy narrowed his pale eyes; he wasn't foolish enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, who followed him out the compartment door.

Harry and Ron sat down; Ron's fists still clenched. "I'm not taking any of Malfoy's crap this year. I swear if he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to take his head and --"

"Ron," Hermione scolded, glancing over at the Professor nervously.

The Professor, however, didn't stir.

He's really a sound sleeper, Harry thought in amazement.

The three sat back in their seats, trying desperately to relax and forget about Malfoy and his guard dogs.

As the train sped onward, the skies darkened even more, and the windows were now a shimmering grey, and the lanterns began to flicker into life all along the corridors and above the luggage rack.

The train rattled, the rain hammered, and the wind roared, but Lupin's eyelids didn't even flutter.

"We must be nearly there," Ron said, looking past the professor, out into the murky black window. As if in answer to his question, the train suddenly slowed down.

Ron's face brightened up. "Great, I'm starving. I can't wait to get to the feast."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted up into her fringe. "That's impossible. We can't be there yet," she said, checking her watch.

Ron looked at her with a puzzled look. "Then why have we stopped?"

The train was getting slower and slower, until suddenly, the noise of the pistons fell away altogether; the noise of the wind and the rain pounding against the windows, sounded louder than ever.

Harry, who was nearest to the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking out curiously from the compartments.

The train suddenly came to a complete stop, with a jolt and distant thuds and bangs, told them that the luggage had fallen out of the suddenly, all the lamps went out without warning, plunging them into total darkness.

"What's happening?" Ron's nervous voice sounded from behind Harry.

"Ouch!" Hermione gasped. "Ron! That was my foot!"

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Harry fell back into his seat. "Do you think that we've broken down?"

"Dunno," Ron said, sounding scared.

Harry heard a squeak, and could see only Ron's outline in the inky darkness, wiping his hand across the frosted window pane; he cleaned a patch to peer out into the corridors.

"Something's moving out there. I think that people are coming around," he said in a shaky voice.

No sooner, had he said the words, then they heard the compartment door slide open, and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs.

"Sorry, do you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry-"

"Hullo Neville," said Harry, grappling in the dark, and snatched up Neville by his cloak.

"Harry," Neville's voice squeaked in the dark compartment. "Is that you? What's happening?"

There was panic; electricity crackling through the air.

"No idea! Sit down-"

There was a loud hiss, and a yelp from Neville, as he tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"I'm going to go ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's determined voice. Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again and a thud, and two loud squeals of pain.

Harry thought that if the situation weren't so grave and uncertain, it would be quite hilarious.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"Looking for Ron."

"Well...come in and sit down," she offered.

"Not here!" Harry said breathlessly, as Ginny almost toppled on his lap.

"Ouch," said Neville.

"Quiet!" a hoarse voice said suddenly.

Harry could make out Professor Lupin's form and movements from his corner of the seat.

None of them spoke; Harry felt the eeriness surround him like a suffocating blanket.

There was a soft crackling sound, and a shivering light filled the cabin. Professor Lupin appeared to be carrying a handful of flames. They illuminated the tired lines of his haggard face, but his eyes looked bright and alert.

"Stay where you are," he commanded, as he rose slowly to his feet; the dancing flames, peeking out through his clasped fingers.

Before Lupin could reach the door, however, it slid slowly open.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the flickering flames in Lupin's hand was a very tall cloaked figure, which towered to the ceiling; its face was completely hidden by its hood.

Harry's eyes moved downwards towards the glistening, decrepit, scaly hand that protruded from the cloak. Harry's stomach clenched. The creature looked like it had crawled out from the grave; it looked like something that had been decayed in water.

As though the creature sensed Harry's gaze, it withdrew its hand back into the folds of its cloak.

And then, suddenly the creature drew a long, rattling breath, and Harry felt shivers dance up his spine. The air became icy, and Harry could see his breath hang in the glacial, bitterly cold air. The chill seeped into his chest, and through his limbs; he felt as though the blood that ran through his veins was ice water.

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. Blackness enveloped him, and he felt as though he was being strangled. Something was pulling him down, and the blood rushed to his ears.

From far away, Harry heard a terrible heart-wrenching scream that pierced the air; pleading and sobbing, asking for mercy. He wanted to help, he wanted move his arms...his legs, but they felt as though there were weights on them, dragging him down. A thick fog was swirling around him; then blackness filled his vision.

"Harry! Harry! Are you alright?"

He could feel the sting of a slap on his cheeks.

"W-what?" he asked as he struggled to open his eyelids; they felt so very heavy.

There were lanterns above him. He seemed to have slid out of his seat and onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeled before him; concern crinkling their eyes. Hovering over him, Neville and Professor Lupin looked down, worry lacing their expressions. Harry felt as though he would sick up, and as he pushed his glasses up over the bridge of his nose, he felt the cold sweat on his face, make his fingertips moist.

Ron and Hermione grasped Harry underneath his armpits, and heaved him up into the seat.

"Are you okay mate?" Ron asked nervously.

Harry's eyes swept around the bright compartment, and saw Ginny and Neville exchange worried looks; they both looked very pale.

"Yeah," Harry said shakily; his eyes darted to the doorway, but the creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's tha-that thing?" he croaked. Who was that screaming?"

Ron looked horrified. "No one screamed Harry," he insisted nervously.

Harry's eyes crinkled in confusion. "But I heard screaming-"

The sound of a snap crackled the air, and they all looked over to see Professor Lupin break an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry handing him a very large piece. "It'll make you feel better."

Harry took the chocolate, but did not eat it.

"What was that thing?" he asked in a croaky voice.

"A Dementor," explained Lupin, as he broke off more pieces and handed one to everyone. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him with horrified expressions. He shoved the empty, crumpled-up chocolate wrapper into his robes' pocket.

He looked at Harry, with his warm, brown eyes. "Eat it," he repeated, pointing at the chocolate clasped in Harry's trembling hand. "It helps...it really does."

"Excuse me...I need to speak to the driver," he said, after taking one last glance at Harry as though to assure himself that Harry was really in one piece.

He strolled past Harry and disappeared out the door.

"Are you sure that you're okay Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't understand. What happened?" he asked, swiping at the trickles of sweat rolling down his brow.

"Well that thing--that Dementor--just sort of stood there, and looked around. I mean, I couldn't see his face or anything," Ron said, laughing nervously.

He looked at Harry with wide eyes, and the freckles stood out on his white face. "I thought that you were having a fit or something. I mean--you just sort of went rigid and fell out of your seat and started--twitching."

Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm, when she saw him pale. " -And Professor Lupin just stepped right over you, and walked towards the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione--awe in her voice. "And he said, "None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go. But the Dementor didn't move, so he muttered something, and this shimmering, silver sort of a wispy cloud came out from his wand, and the Dementor just sort of floated away--just like that," she said, snapping her fingers.

"It was horrible," Neville squeaked, and Ginny nodded.

"Yeah, I felt like I'd never be cheerful again," Ron said, shuddering.

"But did any of you faint, or fall off your seats?" Harry asked awkwardly.

They all shook their heads. Harry felt his face heat up.

"No, but Ginny was shaking like mad, " he said quickly, noticing Harry's embarrassment.

They all nodded.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself. He felt weak and shaky and couldn't stop shivering.

He looked up as the door opened, and Lupin returned.

"I didn't poison that chocolate you know," he said, looking pointedly at the still un-eaten chocolate in Harry's hand.

Harry flushed. He nodded, and took a bite of the chocolate, and to his surprise, he felt a sudden rush of warmth spread from the tips of his fingers right down to his toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," he said, as they could feel the hum of the engine, and the pull of the train starting up again. "Will you be alright Harry?"

"Yes sir," Harry nodded, lowering his eyes.

No one spoke very much the rest of the journey, and Harry felt ashamed that he was so weak, when no one else seemed to be affected by the Dementors.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

They rode the horseless carriages to the gates, and Harry was never so happy to see the warm welcoming gates of Hogwarts. That is until everyone started fussing over him and asking if he was alright.

As Harry stepped through the large, iron door, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear.

"You fainted Potter. You actually fainted," Malfoy sneered.

"Shove off Malfoy," Ron said, shoving the gleeful Slytherin out of the way.

"Is there a problem?" a silky voice drawled behind them.

Harry looked up in surprise to see Snape towering over them, glaring at Malfoy. What? Glaring at Malfoy? Harry thought he must have been mistaken, because a second later, the man had resumed his usual mask of indifference.

"Proceed to the Great Hall Mr. Malfoy," Snape said in a low, commanding voice.

Malfoy gave him an odd, searching look, but nodded. "Yes sir." He obeyed his Head of House, but not before awarding one last malicious glare at Harry and Ron.

"Come with me Potter," Snape ordered.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Sir?"

"Do as you’re told," he barked. "The rest of you, go to the Great Hall."

Lupin stood in the doorway to the entrance way, a puzzled look on his strained features.

Harry followed Snape down a series of corridors that led to the Dungeons. Where was Snape taking him? Harry was quite surprised when the man led him down to his Dungeon quarters.

He motioned for Harry to sit down on the couch, while he disappeared down the hall.

Harry twisted his fingers nervously. He knew that he was being ridiculous. After all, he had spent three weeks with the man; what was there to be nervous of?

In all honestly, Harry was still very shaken up by what had happened on the train. He closed his eyes for a moment and leant his head back on the couch. He felt something warm, being shoved into his hands.

His eyelids fluttered open to seen Snape handing him a mug of something that smelt fruity, and warm. He looked up questioningly at his Professor.

"Drink it," he ordered the pale boy.

Harry obeyed him, and felt his insides warm up, much the same as the chocolate had done.

"I understand that there was an--incident with the Dementors Mr. Potter?"

"Yes sir," he admitted, lowering his eyes; waiting for the man to mock him and tell him how weak he was.

"That is understandable Potter."

Harry's eyes shot up in surprise. He had expected the man to revert back to his usual sneering self the minute they returned to Hogwarts.

"I warned that bumbling idiot Fudge that Dementors had no place at an institution full of children," he said with disdain; his eyes a glittering black. "How the Headmaster could agree to this is unconscionable," he said, almost to himself.

"I understand that you fainted also," he said, with what could be construed as a concerned expression. But with Snape it was hard to tell.

"Yes sir, but Professor Lupin gave me some chocolate."

"Professor Lupin?" Snape asked a sudden dangerous glint in his obsidian eyes.

"Uh-yes sir," Harry said nervously. Why did he get the feeling that Snape didn't like the new professor very much; or rather, why did it seem as though he couldn't stand his guts?

"Come," Snape said suddenly. "We must get to the Feast before we are missed.

Harry tried to slip in with the last of the throng of students, but as inconspicuous as he tried to be, he couldn't escape the jeers and taunts he was greeted with from the Slytherin Table.

Harry wanted to drop his head into his soup, as he heard the words, "Potty fainted," along with the words, "pansy" and "wimp".

Harry noticed that he'd missed the sorting, as he was surrounded by very tiny first years, who looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

The sound of a throat clearing echoed through the Great Hall; stilling the excited chattering, and whispering.

"Welcome," said Dumbledore, his long white, shimmering beard tied in a ponytail, with a gold string. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you, and one of them is a very serious announcement. I think that it is best to get this out of the way, before you become befuddled by your excellent feast..."

Dumbledore took a deep breath, and continued. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is currently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Harry got the feeling that Dumbledore was not pleased at all about this news. Harry remembered overhearing Mr. Weasley saying that Dumbledore was really angry about the Ministry forcing him to allow the Dementors of Azkaban to guard Hogwarts.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, looking sombre, "and while they are with us, I must make it clear, that no one is to leave the school without permission."

Harry looked up to see Snape piercing him with his cold, black eyes; he knew the man was making sure he received the message loud and clear. Harry shifted uncomfortably under the glare.

"Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises -- or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added, while staring directly at Harry.

Oh Merlin, Harry thought. Why did he get the feeling that with Snape dogging his every move, and Dumbledore wise to his tricks, that his adventurous streak was going to be seriously dampened?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Fudge wrung his hands in despair. He took a deep breath; Wayne could see that the man was beginning to realise that his hysteria was getting him absolutely nowhere.

"So John," he forced himself to stay calm, "do you perhaps have a suggestion as to how we can solve this most unfortunate problem?"

The large man looked at him thoughtfully. "There is perhaps someone who can find a way around these stringent conditions; if he can't, then no one can," John said as an afterthought.

Wayne's eyebrows rose. "And who would that be sir?"

"Professor Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is named as executor of James and Lily Potter's estate."

A shadow crossed over Dumbledore's gentle features, as he continued his Welcoming Speech, that unfortunately this year, unlike previous years, was thus far, devoid of light-hearted banter, and full of dark warnings and safety concerns.

“I'm trusting that all the Prefects, Head Boy and Head Girl, will ensure that students obey these rules, and that all students will remain safely away from the long arms of the Dementors.”

Percy puffed up his chest, and glanced with self-importance at the younger students, as he caught the eye of the smitten Penelope.

Ron rolled his eyes, and made a motion of sticking his fingers down his throat, as though the very idea of Percy and Penelope making goo-goo eyes at one another was enough to make him vomit up his upcoming excellent feast.

Hermione of course awarded him with a stern look.

“Now that we've dispensed with the more sombre and serious warnings, I have some news that will perhaps lift your spirits somewhat,” he announced; his sparkling blue eyes, twinkling madly.

Wide eyes lifted up towards the aging Headmaster, alight with curiosity.

“I am pleased to announce the fulfilment of two new Professorial positions this year.”

“Two?” Ron asked curiously. “I wonder what the other position is.”

Harry scrunched his eyebrows. “Dunno.”

“Shh,” Hermione admonished.

“First and foremost, I'd like you all to extend a warm welcome to the new Defence against the Dark Arts Professor, Remus Lupin.”

With a knowing look, Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up to see the haggard-looking professor rise, and nod shyly to acknowledge the smattering of applause that broke out at this announcement.

Looking to Lupin's right, Harry shuddered at the look of intense malice that appeared on Snape's stern features. Harry almost felt a pinch of pity for the man; after all, it was a wide-spread rumour that Snape had been vying for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor for ages, only to be overlooked time and time again.

Dumbledore waited until the chattering died down, and the Hall grew quiet once more.

“As to our second new appointment,” he held up a long finger, “I am sorry to say that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year, to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. I am pleased to say, however, that our very own Rubeus Hagrid has agreed to step in to fill the position, as well as continuing on with his duties as Gamekeeper.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione, looked at each other, stunned. Then, slowly applause erupted with great fervor, throughout the Hall, particularly at the Gryffindor Table.

Sounds of disgust could be heard from the Slytherin table, and Harry snickered to himself. It looked as though the lot of them had been sucking on lemons.

That thought only made Harry grin more widely, and he put even more effort into smacking his palms together, until they tingled.

Harry looked fondly up at the large man, whose face turned a deep shade of crimson, at all the attention he was getting.

Ron shook his head in disbelief, and his freckled face broke into a big smile. “We should have known, shouldn't we have? I mean...a book with large pointy teeth that practically chomps your fingers off. It has Hagrid written all over it.”

Harry nodded. “Well, one thing is for sure. It's going to be a very interesting year,” Harry said thoughtfully.

All thoughts of Dementors, and Sirius Black were temporarily shoved to the back of Harry's mind, as he obeyed Dumbledore's order to tuck in.

This was actually the first year, since coming to Hogwarts that Harry's stomach was able to handle more than a forkful of food. Normally, after a summer of being denied sustenance, Harry's stomach was unable to handle normal amounts of food, and he could only look longingly at the delicious food that adorned the long tables.

Harry had Snape to thank for being able to thoroughly enjoy the feast and consume normal amounts of food for his age.

Harry's emerald eyes lifted up to see Snape's own obsidian ones staring at him piercingly. Harry found it difficult to break eye contact with the man; it was as though the man was trying to impart a message to him.

What neither Snape nor Harry failed to notice was that Remus Lupin was carefully studying the both of them, from over the top of his large mug of cider.

---------

It was with a full stomach, and a sleepy glow that Harry climbed the charmed staircase, following the other third year Gryffindor boys. They secretly snickered as the pompous, arrogant voice of Percy, filtered through the crowd, in back of them.

“Coming through... coming through,” announced an irritated Percy. “I'm Head Boy! Make way. I'm coming through.”

Percy looked down his pompous nose at the younger students, as he shoved his way through. He stopped outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“The password is Fortuna Major, and I expect you all to remember it, otherwise you'll be sleeping in the corridors,” he announced arrogantly.

A small squeak escaped from Neville's trembling lips. “Oh no. How am I going to remember it?” he despaired.

The portrait opened to allow them entry, and the boys made their way up to the dorm. Harry couldn't help but feel his spirits lift at the familiar dorm that he'd shared with his mates since first year; despite the feeling of never having belonged with his so-called family, Hogwarts always managed to give him that sense of security and belonging that his relatives always fell short of doing. Even as reluctant as he had been to stay with Snape over the summer, Harry had to admit that the man had, despite his high expectations, and cool reserve, had made Harry feel more secure and well-cared for than his aunt and uncle had ever done.

-------

“Try this,” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of Bertie Botts every-flavoured beans. Harry thought that he resembled a chipmunk; his cheeks were puffy, and his eyes bulged out.

Harry looked at him warily, as he hesitatingly held out his hand. Knowing Ron, Merlin knows what sort of flavour he'd end up with. Harry pulled his pyjama-clad knees up to his chin, and popped the sweet into his mouth.

Suddenly, smoke puffed out from his ears, as they popped; he felt as though his brain was knocking against his skull. Harry shook his head, and stuck his fingers in his ears to unblock them.

He grinned. He loved Magic!

“Okay, your turn Ron,” Seamus smirked.

Ron eyed him suspiciously. “What does this one do?” he asked, rolling the brightly wrapped sweet between his fingers.

Seamus chuckled. “You'll just have to eat it and see.”

Ron took a gulp of air, shrugged his shoulders and with fumbling fingers, unwrapped the sweet and popped it into his mouth.

Suddenly, a low guttural sound emerged from his throat, and he threw back his head; his flaming red mane whipping around him.

Scabbers, who had been snuggled on Ron's lap, began trembling and Harry thought that his tiny little eyes would pop out of their sockets. His little whiskers shook in rhythm with his body. He nudged his way under the striped fabric of Ron's night robes.

One by one, they passed the package around and had a good laugh at the variety of transformations that occurred with each flavour.

Finally, by mutual agreement, they extinguished the lanterns, and retired for the night; classes began tomorrow, after all, and as they'd already been lectured by Hermione, this year promised to be a challenging one.

Harry lay for what felt like hours, before finally succumbing to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see long bony fingers, dark flowing, wispy robes, and empty sockets for eyes. An icy-cold feeling permeated his insides, and the feeling of darkness and despair gripped his heart, as though it would be all he'd ever know in his entire life.

As the rain pelted the window, jagged streaks of lightning illuminated the Quidditch poster-plastered walls of the Dorm, in an eerie glow.

His mother's screams pounded in his ears; Harry yanked the pillow out from under his head and squeezed it against his ears, but it couldn't drown out her pitiful cries. Harry swiped a few stray tears from his eyes, and swallowed down the cold feeling of hopelessness that hung over him, like a suffocating fog.

Normally Harry looked forward to the start of a new year, but after the events that had transpired at the Dursleys, his subsequent stay with Snape, the incident with the Dementors, and the threat of a maniac stalking him, hovering over his head, his excitement abased somewhat.

--------

Harry rubbed the grit from his eyes, and gulped down a mouthful of pumpkin juice. He stared down at his eggs, which had gone cold, and poked them with his fork. It was difficult to have an appetite when strains of snickering and taunts drifting his way.

Harry dipped his head down, and groaned. He had a feeling that he was not going to live down his experience with the Dementors, for quite some time; the Slytherins, Draco in particular, would not lose the opportunity to exploit Harry's embarrassment to the fullest.

Harry had, unrealistically, been hoping that the Slytherins would lose interest in, what Harry considered his moment of weakness, but Harry was not to be so fortunate. Harry had a sudden urge to fling his plate of eggs in Draco's pointed face.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, when he looked up to see McGonagall's pointed hat, bob up and down, as she made the rounds up and down the Gryffindor table, handing out schedules.

At the same time, Harry caught, with the corner of his eye, a flurry of black robes billowing behind the tall form of the Potions Master, as he handed out the schedules to his Slytherins. The man looked pointedly at Harry, and inclined his head slightly. Harry blinked. A strange feeling spread over him then. For the first time since learning about Sirius Black's murderous intentions towards him, Harry felt as though he was less vulnerable from the convicted killer's clutches.

Harry looked over his schedule, and felt his spirits rise. He was looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid. Harry had a feeling that the new Defence teacher was going to be loads better than Lockhart. Of course, anyone would be better than Lockhart, he thought sardonically.

Ron leant over and peered at Hermione's schedule. “Merlin Hermione! How many classes are you taking?”

“Just a fair few,” she responded, shifting her eyes nervously.

“But Hermione, you can't possibly take all these classes,” he gasped, as his eyes widened.

“Of course I can Ronald,” she said primly, as she tried to grab the schedule away from Ron's tight grasp.

Ron leant over, and shoved the parchment in front of Harry's face. “Look at how many classes she's taking.”

Harry's eyes widened. “Uh Hermione,” he began tentatively, not wanting to upset the increasingly agitated girl further, “you're scheduled for Care of Magical Creatures at the same time as Arithmancy, and Divination, at the same time as Ancient Runes.”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded. “She's scheduled to take ten classes a day! That's bloody impossible. You'd have to be in three places at once.”

Hermione fidgeted nervously, and began entwining her slender fingers around the delicate gold chain, she was wearing around her neck.

“Don't be ridiculous Ron. How could I be in three places at once?”

“Then how-” Ron began.

“Don't worry your pretty little heads about it. Professor McGonagall has arranged it all,” she said, pursing her lips and stood up, snatching the parchment away from Harry's relaxed fingers.”

Harry and Ron both rolled their eyes, as Hermione scooped up the large pile of books from the table, and hurried off, saying a quick goodbye over her shoulder.

Harry and Ron shook their heads.

“She's barmy that one. I mean come on, even Hermione can't keep up with that many classes in one day,” Ron stated firmly.

“No, I guess not,” Harry said raking his hand through his already messy hair, “but I wonder what she meant by saying that McGonagall arranged it all?”

Ron shrugged. “Don't know, but-ugh-” Ron scowled, when he looked down at his schedule. “My first class is Potions.”

Harry's stomach somersaulted when he looked down at his parchment to see that he also had Potions with Snape. He really wasn't sure if he was ready to face not only Snape, who on the surface seemed to have softened his acerbic tongue towards Harry somewhat, at least out of class, and the Slytherins, particularly Draco, who would relish another opportunity to throw his little episode with the Dementors in his face.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry said dejectedly.

Ron picked up his book bag, and hurled it over his shoulder.

“Well...let's get it over with then.”

“Yeah. Coming Neville?” Harry asked the nervous teenager, who'd paled considerably when he had glanced down at his own schedule to reveal that he had Potions as well.

Harry gently clasped his arm, pulling forward the anxious boy, who stood frozen to the spot.

Neville's bottom lip trembled, but Harry could hear him gulp down a large breath, and straighten his shoulders.

Neville nodded. “Yeah, I'm coming,” he said in a brave, yet croaky voice.

------------

“Minerva?” Dumbledore peered over the top of his half-moon glasses, to peer at McGonagall, who stood in the doorway, with her back rigid, and her fists clenched.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Pleasure, my eye,” she snapped. “I've just intercepted Fudge from storming his way in here,” she responded; her face was pinched into a scowl.

“I see,” Dumbledore said, tracing his lips with his long fingernail. “Did he happen to enlighten you as to the purpose of his visit, by any chance?”

“No, but he has a bee in his bonnet Albus. That much is apparent. Oh...and Auror Rogers is with him,” she came closer, “do you think this has anything to do with Black?” she asked quietly.

Dumbledore laced his fingers together on the desk. “It's possible,” he acknowledged, “however, I suppose the only way to be certain, is to allow the esteemed-” at this, he smirked at Minerva, “Minister and Auror Rogers entrance.”

“Very well Albus,” Minerva agreed, nodding.

“Albus,” Fudge said brusquely.

“Cornelius...Auror Rogers,” Dumbledore said, rising, and offering his hand, which Fudge pointedly ignored.

Wayne squashed down a stab of annoyance at Fudge's continued rude behaviour, and smiled apologetically at the Headmaster, while offering his own hand.

Wayne's eyes widened in surprise at the strength that the fragile-looking man possessed, and was impressed at how firm the Headmaster's handshake was. Despite his aged appearance, Wayne could feel the sheer magical energy emanating from the man. He was awed to be in the presence of such a powerful and wise wizard. He'd heard stories of course, throughout his years of training as an apprentice Auror, and as a now, Senior Auror, at how, not only had Albus Dumbledore defeated one of the most evil wizards of his time, Grindelwald, but was the only one that Voldemort (he refused to use the ridiculous appellation, He-Who-Must-Not-Named.) ever feared.

“Have a seat gentlemen,” Dumbledore, handing out a dish of lemon drops. His eyes twinkled with mirth, when Rogers plucked a sweet from the dish, and nodded thank you. It was not often that anyone actually took Albus up on his offer of his favourite sweet.

Fudge, on the other hand, waved an impatient hand at the dish, and refused to sit down, preferring to stand with his feet apart and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Well...let's not waste any time,” he said tersely. “While rummaging through the ruins of the Potter estate, looking for clues of Black's whereabouts, we happened to come upon, this-”

He turned his attention towards Rogers, and held out his hand.

Wayne relinquished the metal box that he'd been clutching tightly, and handed it to Fudge, who in turn, placed it on Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore gently caressed the box, pain etching his lined face.

“We've had several departments at the Ministry working in conjunction to open the box, without much success,” said Fudge with a scowl.

“I see,” Dumbledore said icily. “And did you not think that perhaps it was not your place to open the box? That perhaps the box belongs to James and Lily's son?”

Fudge's face grew red. “Now see here Dumbledore,” he blustered.

“Uh sir,” Wayne interrupted, “this scroll was also found at the Potter's,” he said, quickly handing over the parchment to Dumbledore, in the hopes of averting a rather unpleasant scene.

Wayne could see that the aging man's long, slender fingers were trembling slightly as he fumbled to undo the ribbon.

The colour drained from Dumbledore's face, as his eyes scanned over the writing on the scroll.

He touched the scroll lightly, with the tip of his long fingernail, and looked up with a clouded expression at the two men before him.

“We attempted to gain access to the vault, but that damned creature, Griphook refused to allow us entry.”

“I assume that he directed you to the Barrister that is responsible for the Potter's estate, Minister?”

Dumbledore's lip curled slightly at the title. In his opinion, the man was not capable of governing his own bodily functions, let alone the Wizarding World.

Glancing over at the Minster's rigid stance, inwardly applauding the Headmaster's obvious slight, Wayne, ever the diplomat, decided to take charge of the situation, much to Fudge's dismay. The Minister of Magic didn't like being upstaged, especially by a subordinate, but recognized that Dumbledore truly had the upper hand here, and as the animosity that hung in the air, was thick as pea soup, he allowed the Auror to continue the explanations, uninterrupted.

“Yes we have sir, and he informed us that you were the Executor of the Potter's estate. Also, he mentioned that-” Wayne took a steadying breath, “that the opening of the vault was incumbent upon the presence of-” he looked right into Dumbledore's crinkled eyes, “of course, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, and...Sirius Black.”

Dumbledore put his elbows on his desk, and pierced the two men, with his blue eyes, which had widened considerably.

“Yes well...of course,” he started, clasping his hands together, “it is natural that James and Lily would name Harry and Sirius in their will, but I'm rather taken aback at Severus' presence being requested. Particularly, as the relationship between James and Severus was rather volatile,” he said thoughtfully.

Fudge, who, surprisingly, had been rather quiet, up until this point, interjected, “Yes well Dumbledore, it is rather shocking that a known Death Eater-”

Dumbledore's eyes flashed dangerously. “Former Death Eater,” he corrected.

“Of course,” Fudge sneered, “Former Death Eater or not, the fact remains that the man was loyal to Who-he-must-not-be-named, in the past, and it is highly suspicious, that the Potters would have named a known follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...at the time,” he added hastily to appease Dumbledore's growing agitation. “-in their will.”

Fudge was an idiot, but he knew on what side his bread was buttered, and it would be counterproductive to further aggravate the man, whose cooperation was essential to solving the mystery surrounding the Potter's will.

Whether Fudge had legitimate reason, or not, to be involved at all in this situation, he was a man whose sense of self-importance, made him believe that he had the right to.

“Suspicious would not be the word I'd use Cornelius, but it is very curious,” he murmured, scrunching up his snow-white eyebrows. “Very curious indeed.”

“We have a more pressing problem Dumbledore,” Fudge said, his voice rising shrilly, “The Barrister, that Von Schmidt fellow, said that to open the Potter's vault, all three parties must be present, as some sort of blood ritual is involved.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I see the dilemma.”

“Well?” Fudge demanded forcefully, “You are Executor of the Potter's estate Albus, what are going to do to solve the problem? Obviously, Black's participation is impossible at this time, as he's a wanted fugitive from the law.”

Dumbledore gave him an icy look. “What would you have me do Cornelius?”

“As Executor of the estate, you are responsible for finding another solution to the problem, or perhaps formulating a plan to capture Black.”

Dumbledore's expression hardened. “I'm afraid that I've misunderstood you Cornelius. Are you suggesting that I do your job for you? That I take over where the Ministry has failed?”

Wayne had to hide a smirk. He had to hand it to the Headmaster. He was certainly capable giving back as good as he got, with his incredibly rude and obnoxious superior.

“The Ministry has not failed,” Fudge sputtered angrily. “It's only a matter of time before the Dementors track Black down.”

“Then, I see you have the situation well in hand Cornelius.”

“Now, I hate to be rude Cornelius, but I have other important matters to attend to,” Dumbledore said, as he rose from his seat.

“We have not concluded our business Albus.”

“I'm afraid we have have Cornelius. I will consult with the Barrister concerning our options, but I'm afraid that Blood Magic is very specific, and without Black's participation-” he said, twirling his beard with the tip of his slender fingers, “-I'm afraid that we may have to bide our time, until he is apprehended.”

Fudge clenched his fists in frustration. “Very well Albus. Since you refuse to cooperate, I will take matters into my own hands.”

“Come Rodgers,” he snapped.

“Yes sir.”

“Good day Gentlemen,” Dumbledore, said with a tight smile, while scooping up the scroll and the metal box, just as Fudge's hand grasped at a fistful of air.

“Those objects are Ministry property Dumbledore, you have no right-”

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled mischievously, and Wayne bit back a smile.

“Ah...but as you have pointed out Cornelius, I am the Executor of the Potters' estate, so I do believe that any property belonging to the Potters should be in my possession, until such time as the full contents of the will can be revealed.”

The flush on Fudge's face, began to spread from his neck upwards.

“The hereditary laws are quite clear, I believe, Cornelius.”

Dumbledore motioned with his arm towards the door. “Now, I apologise profusely gentlemen, but I really must bid you goodbye.”

“This is not over Dumbledore,” Fudge growled, and stalked out the door, his robes billowing behind him, in a way that would rival Snape's.

Albus chuckled softly. “Of that, I have no doubt Cornelius.”

Wayne looked apologetically at Dumbledore, who winked back at him.

------

Harry's heart pounded loudly against his chest, as they descended further towards the Dungeons' classroom.

Harry knew that he couldn't expect Snape to show favourtism towards him, but he wasn't sure how he'd deal with it, if the man reverted to his previous behaviour.

Would Snape continue to ridicule him and his Dad, despite the events of the past few weeks? It really did seem like something had changed between them—subtle as it may have been.

Harry's mind was so occupied with concerns over how Snape would treat him in class, that he was taken by surprise, when Malfoy and his minions, shoved into him, clipping him on the shoulder.

“Ooh, sorry Potter, didn't see you there,” Malfoy sneered.

“Yeah,” Crabbe piped up, “Itty bitty Potter is hiding behind the Weasel. Are you afraid of that the big bad Dementors are going to get you pip-squeak?”

Goyle and Malfoy laughed. “So Potter,” Malfoy nudged closer to Harry, and whispered in his ear.

“I heard that you hear your Mudblood mother being murdered, when you're near a Dementor,” he whispered.

The blood rushed to Harry's head, and before he could think better of it, he whipped his wand out, and pointed it between Draco's arched eyebrows.

“Don't ever talk about my mother that way.”

Harry suddenly felt a vice-like grip from behind, and grab him underneath his ribcage.

“Or what Potter?” sneered Goyle's voice in his hear.

The wand slid out from Harry's hand, as his air supply was cut off.

Crabbe grabbed Ron's arm, just as he was about to land a punch to Goyle's jaw.

“Not so fast Weasel,” he jeered.

Just as Harry's chest was burning from the lack of oxygen, and his head was spinning, a steely voice came from behind him.

The crowd of students that had gathered just outside of the Potions classroom, parted to make way for the very irate Potions Master.

Goyle released Harry so suddenly that were it not for Ron's steadying hand, he would have lost his balance.

Snape's dark eyes smouldered with fury. “Explain,” he said in a dangerous voice.

“Potter attacked me sir,” Draco said smugly, straightening up his robes, and smoothing his white-blond hair back, with his long, pale fingers.

Snape lifted a dark eyebrow. “Really?” he said cooly.

Harry was still had his hands wrapped around himself; his ribs poked sharply against his chest, with each breath.

“That's not the way it happened,” Harry managed to spit out, through painful gasps of air.

“So, you didn't raise your wand to Mr. Malfoy, Potter?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean...”

Oh what was the point? Harry thought in frustration. He should have known that nothing would have changed. Snape was still a git; it was like this summer had never happened. He would always favour his Slytherins, and he would always take Malfoy's side.

“Yes sir I did,” he admitted reluctantly, “-but he called my mother a Mudblood,” Harry said through gritted teeth. Harry knew that Snape wouldn't accept any excuse from him for harming one of his Slytherins. When did Snape ever award him with the opportunity to defend himself? He normally jumped down Harry's throat, no matter the provocation that he received from Malfoy, time and time again.

Snape's eyes glinted dangerously.

“He's lying sir,” Malfoy protested quickly; a little too quickly Severus noted. Draco had already received a warning from his Head of House, for calling several of the Muggle-born students the inappropriate name, including Granger, last year.

“Twenty five points each from Gryffindor,” Snape snapped at Harry, and Ron.

Harry clenched his fists. Surprise, surprise. Draco pushes Harry's buttons, and Harry is the one who's punished for it.

“And Mr. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle,” Snape said silkily. “You three will report back here after Dinner to serve detention with Mr. Potter.”

Draco's face flushed angrily. “But sir, Potter is lying, he-”

“That's enough Mr. Malfoy. Unless, of course, you'd like to serve detention for the remainder of the week as well.”

Snape leant in closer to the pale boy. “Must I remind you of the Slytherin House rules once again Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco lowered his eyes.

“No sir,” he said softly.

“Then I suggest you take your seat, and keep your mouth shut,” he said coldly, motioning towards the doorway.

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” he barked at the remaining students who had been brave enough to linger outside the classroom, after Snape's appearance.

“All of you, inside. Now!” he snarled.

“Potter, to the Hospital Wing with you.”

Harry's eyes widened. He didn't know if he was more in shock from Snape actually punishing his Slytherins, or the fact that Snape had noticed that he was in pain from Goyle's bone-crushing hold.

Hermione and Ron hesitated.

“Are you two deaf as well as stupid?” Snape sneered at them. “Potter is perfectly capable of finding his way to the infirmary. Now move it,” he snapped at them.

After Ron and Hermione scurried inside the classroom, and the corridor was clear of students, Snape slammed the classroom door shut, and stared piercingly at Harry, with his dark eyes.

“Do not even think about going elsewhere Potter. You are to go directly to the infirmary. Is that clear?”

Harry gulped. The man could surely read minds. How did he know that Harry was contemplating forgoing the Hospital Wing, in favour of escaping to his Common Room?

“I will join you, when class is dismissed.”

Harry's lips parted in surprise.

“That's not necessary sir, I-”

“I will decide what is necessary, Potter. Now do as you're told,” he said tersely.

“Yes sir.”

Harry could feel dark eyes follow him, until he rounded the corner.

One thing was for sure, Harry thought tiredly, Snape was an enigma. Yes, the man made it clear that he was furious with him for attacking one of his beloved Slytherins; that much was clear, but as expert as the man was at hiding his feelings, he couldn't erase the brief glimpse of concern that Harry had seen flash in the man's obsidian eyes.

Harry was enveloped in a warm glow...although his chest felt like a hippogryph was sitting on it.

Tsk tsk Mr. Potter,” Poppy scolded gently, as she waved her wand over his bare chest, that was beginning to show bruising under his sternum.

“This is not the first time that I see a bare chest, and not the first time that I've seen yours.”

Harry felt his face flame. Harry didn't like to be reminded of his humiliating experience with the Dursleys.

“Put your hands down Mr. Potter,” Snape admonished sternly, “Madame Pomfrey needs to examine your injuries.”

Harry sucked in a painful breath as he peeled his fingers off of his chest and lowered his eyes shamefully. Despite the Professor's change of attitude this summer, Harry still hated to look weak in front of the man, and after years of conditioning himself to hide his weaknesses, and not whine when he was in pain, Harry still found it difficult to fully trust the man who had made his life so miserable these past couple of years.

As Madame Pomfrey continued to wave her wand, and prod his chest gently, Harry wanted nothing more than to lie down on the hospital cot, cover his head with the crisp white sheets and hide forever.

“He has multiple contusions, and a cracked rib Severus. I would like to keep him in overnight for observation, and administer some Skele-grow.”

Harry eyes widened in panic. “Wait! No! Please!” He began to slide down off the cot. “Can't you just give me something to fix it and let me return to the Tower?” he pleaded desperately.

Before Harry's toes touched the ground, however, he felt surprisingly gentle hands scoop him up, as though he weighed nothing, and place him firmly on the bed; he looked up, surprised to see a brief flash of concern, mirrored in Snape's dark eyes.

“Mr. Potter! Enough of this nonsense. You will do as your told. You're health is not something to trifle with."

-------

Severus paused at the doorway to the Defence classroom; old feelings of bitterness and hatred rose up like bile, and Severus was seething with resentment at Dumbledore for once again manipulating him into doing his bidding.

He clenched both his teeth, and the phial in his robes' pocket, as he watched the haggard-looking man, sweep back and forth in his tattered robes, preparing his classroom for the upcoming lesson.

“Lupin,” he said in a quiet hiss.

Lupin whipped his head around, and Severus almost flinched at the look of unconcealed hatred that transformed Lupin’s normally gentle features.

“Sni-Snape!”

The hair on Severus' arms prickled; although the man's eyes crinkled at the corner, and his lips were lifted in a small smile, the warmth failed to reach his eyes. There was an unaccustomed glint in the man's eyes that Severus had never noticed before.

Lupin cleared his throat, and shifted his frail shoulders. He ran his slender fingers through his hair.

“So, what can I do for you, Se-Severus?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at him, but lessened his tight grip on the phial, and pulled it out of his pocket reluctantly; he handed it to the other man.

“Your Wolfsbane,” he sneered.

Lupin's eyes flashed in surprise. “Th-thank you Severus,” he said, as he reached out and hesitatingly grabbed the phial.

Severus nodded slightly, and spun around in a flurry of black robes.

He stood outside the door for a moment, and controlled his breathing. He wouldn't admit to himself that to see Lupin after all these years had unsettled him; no...Severus Snape never lost control. Severus Snape never allowed anyone to rattle him. So why then, did he feel his stomach churn and bubble? Why did only the sight of the man before him, flash images in his mind, of a darkened tunnel; the feeling that his heart would thump right out of his chest, long, pointed teeth...and the smell of fear.

Severus refused to succumb to his irrational fears; he schooled his face into his familiar mask, and forced himself to bury his emotions like usual; deep inside his shields.

-----------

Before Severus could examine his feelings, his polished black boots found their way to the door of the infirmary.

Severus shook his head in disgust; since when did he actually care about the welfare of a Potter? That didn't stop his traitorous hands from clasping onto the cold metal door handle of the Infirmary, or his wayward feet from propelling him forward.

----------

Remus stared at the flap of black robes disappearing through the doorway. His fingers pressed tightly against the phial; the cork digging into the palm of his hand. He slowly opened his hand and stared down thoughtfully at the phial filled with the ruby red liquid, slipped the phial into the deep pocket of his tattered robes, and pulled out a metal flask from his other pocket. He pinched his nose, and dipped his head back; he scowled as the vile-tasting liquid slid down his throat.

He stuffed the flask back into his pocket, and made his way over to the shelves of books at the far corner of the classroom. As he pulled out the heavy tome from its place, it set dust particles floating through the air, and hitting the stream of sunlight filtering in through the high, arched windows.

He flipped through the yellowed pages of the book, not finding the answers he was looking for. His breath hitched, and he pulled out the phial that Severus had given him. For the second time that day, he pinched his nose and grimaced as he swallowed the bitter concoction. Just in case, he thought.

--------

Honestly, Severus thought as his quill slashed across the parchment, littering the page with red ink; every year, the number of dunderheads that he was forced to teach grew larger. Just once, he thought to himself, he wished that he'd come across a student who not only excelled in the Discipline, but embraced it, savoured it, and put their heart and soul into it, like he'd done. There were few, if any students at Hogwarts who had the makings of a great Potions Master.

True Granger, as much as was loath to admit it, and Draco were very gifted in Potions, but neither had the ambition or the desire to pursue Potions as a career. Every year, Severus kept an eye out for a potentially gifted first year to pass his knowledge on to, and every year, he swallowed his disappointment.

For a brief moment, Severus allowed his thoughts to imagine what it would have been like if he'd had a son. Would his son have followed in his footsteps?

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; what the hell? Why were his thoughts wandering in such a bizarre direction? He hated children! He never wanted a child—did he? There was only one woman with whom he would ever have wanted to father a child from, and he knew that that had always been impossible.

Besides, Albus was quite certain that the Dark Lord would one day rise again, and Severus' path was mapped out for him; he would return to the Dark Lord's side, and spy for the side of the light. Not a life he'd ever want for his child, especially if said child was a son. The Dark Lord would have surely expected any son that he had sired, to take the Dark Mark one day, and no child of his would ever be defiled by the mark of Servitude to such a megalomaniac. No... it was better that he had no one to care about, and no one to care about him. His life was too dangerous and Severus vowed that he'd never allow himself to care about another ever again, or allow anyone to get too close to him. He would not lose someone else he cared about; he would not have more blood on his hands.

He went over to the bar, and with trembling fingers picked up a dark green bottle of his best whiskey that he save for moments when he desperately needed to forget either his physical or mental anguish; he'd not needed this comfort since the days when he'd returned from the Dark Lord's side, weak and injured from the loving hands of his Master. He clutched the bottle tightly; he hesitated only a moment, before pulling out the cork.

Severus didn't even bother with a glass; he tipped the bottle and leant the top of the cool, smooth rim to his trembling lips. His nostrils flared, as he breathed in the heavy smell of alcohol fumes. The burning liquid scalded his throat and the warmth spread through his belly and limbs.

Enough of the self-pity, he thought in self-loathing; you've chosen your path, and now there was no turning back. There was no one to pat him on the back, and say, You've done a good job Severus. No, whatever good deeds he had done, or continued to do, he did to ease his own guilty conscience. He didn't deserve recognition or a kind word. He deserved to rot in hell, for his part in Lily's death. But he supposed that having to live every day, with the knowledge of what he'd done, was hell-on-earth. And if he needed any reminder of just how loathsome he was, he had only to look deeply into the eyes of the boy whom he'd taken away his parents from; the boy whose innocent gaze, so reminiscent of his mother's, twisted the dagger more deeply into his gut, every time he stared into those emerald eyes.

Severus flinched when a brisk knock on the door, echoed through his darkly-lit, dungeon quarters. He'd not bothered to light the lanterns, and it was on the brink of dusk. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, but the frantic rapping continued.

Severus quickly recapped the bottle, and attempted to pull together his tortured thoughts. It was mostly likely Albus, he thought. He rolled his eyes; the man picked the most inopportune moments to drop by. He wondered sometimes about Albus; the man could certainly rival Sybil in his fortune-telling abilities, and his penchant for arriving at his door at the worst moments, when his defences were down; it was annoying... to say the least.

With a huff, Severus swung open the door, and his comment to Albus about where he could stick his Sherbet Lemons, stilled on his lips, when he saw Remus Lupin standing there, instead of the Headmaster.

“Lupin,” Severus sneered.

“Severus, I'm so sorry to disturb you,” Remus said apologetically. “But, I had an unfortunate accident.”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at the ashen man before him, who had the nerve to disturb his session with his bottle of liquid comfort.

Severus curled his lip in disdain. “And just what accident would that be Lupin?”

Remus twisted his slender fingers around the fabric of his shabby robes. “I'm afraid that I dropped the Wolfsbane potion, Severus.”

Severus' eyes flashed with fury. “You bumbling idiot,” he spat. “Do you realise how rare and expensive these ingredients are?” He bared his yellow teeth. “Of course not,” he sneered, “It's not as if you're footing the bill, is it?” he said coldly, looking down his aquiline nose in disgust at Remus' faded robes.

The lines in Remus' scarred face tightened. “I seem to remember a time when your robes were in much the same condition as mine Severus.”

Severus' lips thinned.

“So I really wouldn't look down your large nose at me,” Remus said in a dangerous voice, “When it wasn't so long ago that you were the one wearing the patched-up trousers and the tattered robes.”

Snape's sallow face flushed crimson. “Why you ungrateful bastard,” he spat, “you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me. You'd be back on the streets, rummaging through trash bins for your next meal.”

Remus snarled. “I'm quite certain that Dumbledore is the one footing the bill, so don't pretend that you are doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

Severus whipped his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Remus' throat. “Get out.”

“Very well Severus. I'll just explain to Albus that you refused to supply me with my Wolfsbane, and we'll see just who'll be rummaging through trash bins.”

Severus' expression turned murderous; he stashed his wand back in his robes' pocket, and spun around furiously.

Severus' teeth were clenched in anger, as he rattled the phials on the shelves of his storage room; his hand still shook with fury. He had a childish desire to sweep his hand across the neatly lined bottles of Wolfsbane on the shelves and watch them crash onto the hard dungeon floor-- just to spite the wolf.

Severus scowled. Something was different about Lupin; something he couldn't put his finger on. Usually the man was easier to bully. When the hell had he developed such a backbone?

“Here,” he snapped, jabbing the phial into the fragile-looking man's chest.

“Thank you Severus,” Remus said, nodding his head slightly.

Severus wanted to wipe the smug look off the man's scarred face. This was going to be a long year. Severus' only consolation was that the Defence position was cursed, and by the end of the year the man would be gone.

---------

“Harry!”

Hermione looked up with a smile, as he entered the Common Room the next evening after supper. Harry was relieved that Pomfrey had finally deemed him well enough to leave. Harry had to admit though, that it had been a long night, and despite the potions that Harry knew Snape had provided to relieve the pain, he'd still had a hard time sleeping. Harry reckoned that after three years of the Infirmary being his second home, and having consumed many potions over the past couple of years, that he'd become immune to their potency.

Harry's breath had hitched, when in the middle of the night, he'd heard the rustling of robes, and the scraping of metal chair legs on the sterile white ceramic tiles of the Hospital wing, echoing through the darkened infirmary. Harry pretended to be asleep, but when he cracked an eye open to see the dark form of Snape sitting in the chair by his bedside, he gasped in surprise.

Harry's stomach flipped; Snape was checking up on him? No one would ever believe that the Greasy Git of the Dungeons was actually sitting by his bedside in the middle of the night. Ron would think that he'd gone mental; that he must have taken some potion that was making him delirious.

Hermione's eyes crinkled in concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Loads better thanks. I don't know why Pomfrey made me stay there all night and day,” he huffed in annoyance.

“Well, I think that it's better to be safe, than sorry Harry,” Hermione said sternly.

Ron smiled crookedly at him; he was sitting on the couch beside Hermione, surrounded by books, quills and parchment. Hermione had been frantically scrawling notes, while Ron was pretending to study, when he was really looking at the latest Quidditch magazine.

“She's right you know mate. Besides,” he snickered, “you would not have wanted to be in Snape's class today. He was in a right foul mood.”

Harry smirked. “And that's supposed to surprise me?”

“No, I mean worse than usual. He was even taking points from Slytherin, left, right and centre. Poor Neville.” Ron jerked his head towards the other end of the Common Room, where Neville was reduced to a blubbering puddle of goo. “Snape was merciless.”

Harry shook his head. “Wow, you're right. I'm glad I wasn't there.”

“Yeah, and you should have seen him with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in detention last night. I've never seen him that way with his Slytherins before.”

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully. Is it possible that Snape was really upset with Malfoy and his goons, on Harry's account? Snape did stay with him half the night in the infirmary, and he had taken care of him after Uncle Vernon had used him as a punching bag this summer, and he did let Harry stay with him before term started, but no...That didn't mean that Snape actually cared about him, even just a little bit now--did it?

Ron's voice broke through Harry's conflicted thoughts.

“So...do you still have detention with Snape?”

“No actually,” Harry said slowly, realising just how easily he had actually got off. “He gave me a long lecture about how, if ever I lose control like that again, I'll be in detention until I graduate, and he assigned me a six foot essay on learning to control my temper-” Ron snorted, “-and how I could have handled the situation differently. And he kept going on and on about how I put myself in danger, and it didn't matter what anyone said to me--it didn't give me the right to retaliate with my wand.”

Hermione nodded in approval. “He's got a point Harry. Malfoy is quite good at saying things just to rile you up. You can't let him provoke you like that. I shudder to think what would have happened if Snape hadn't of intervened...”

Harry preferred not to ponder that question.

--------

Albus brushed his long fingers over the box; through bleary eyes, he stared at it. What secrets were contained inside it? And why on earth was Severus' presence crucial to the vault's entry?

It was rather odd for James and Lily to name Severus in their will, considering the animosity that had existed between James and Severus. Albus pressed his fingers against the furrows of his brow; the more he attempted to unravel the mystery, the more it seemed to deepen.

Albus walked over to the window, and stared at the grounds below. A wistful smile touched his lips, as he remembered James and Lily, as if it were only yesterday; was it really so long ago, that they had sat under that large oak tree, whose once majestic branches swayed lightly in the spring breeze? And was it only yesterday that he'd had to scold young Sirius and James for turning their Defence Professor's hair orange. A smile tugged at his lips. Yes, those boys had been a handful, but life was never dull with them around. Sometimes Albus wondered if they'd passed their legacy down to the Weasley twins.

As Albus let his mind wander to times past, he turned around to stare once more at the box lying so innocently beside the yellowed scroll of parchment. What secrets have you buried along with you, Lily and James? Albus wondered if these secrets would only cause more pain for those involved.

The flapping of wings startled Albus from his reverie; out of the corner of his eye, Albus could see Fawkes curling her long claws around the metal bar of her perch.

It was rare that Albus felt control slip from his grasp; or rather, it was rare that he admitted it, but he was at a loss of how he could fulfill the necessary requirements to opening the vault, without the presence of Black. Yes, he had to find a way to capture Black; not only to ensure Harry's safety, but to obtain access to Lily and James' vault. Albus only hoped that Fudge was not fool enough to drive Sirius further away with his ridiculous insistence on surrounding the castle with Dementors.

Albus shuddered; no, he didn't approve of using Dementors to guard the prisoners of Azkaban, and he most certainly did not approve of having Dementors in such close proximity to his students, especially when they seemed to have a particularly adverse effect on young Harry.

Albus clenched his fists until he felt his long nails dig into his palms. Fudge was reckless and dangerous, and he'd be damned if he would allow the man to compromise his efforts to keep his students safe.

And then there was the question of the Potter's vault. Albus was afraid that Fudge's interference would only make matters worse, and drive Black further into hiding. He had to find a way to entice Black out of hiding; if only to satisfy his increasing curiosity about the contents of the vault. There was something about the whole matter of Black's betrayal that hadn't sat well with Albus from the beginning, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. There had always been a piece of the puzzle that had not fit, but the answer had always remained just out of reach. Perhaps he'd been remiss in accepting Black's guilt so easily. A twinge of guilt twisted at his gut; he'd already failed Harry so horribly, by placing him with the Dursleys. Albus had a feeling that the burden of guilt would weigh down much more heavily on his frail shoulders, in the time to come.

He stared out once more at the puff of smoke, spiraling from Hagrid's hut, and absent-mindedly watched, as two familiar figures strolled down the hilly path towards the large man's hut.

------

Later on that evening, as Harry was standing alone in the main hall, trying to figure out where his friends had disappeared to after dinner, he spotted Ron standing by the Charmed staircase, shifting from one foot to the other; his eyes darting frantically, from side to side.

Harry crept up quietly, and tapped him on the shoulder; Ron jumped.

The freckles stood out starkly on Ron's pale face.

Harry's eyes crinkled in concern. “Ron? You okay mate?”

“Where's Hermione?” Ron asked, looking around nervously, clutching his midsection, which seemed to be squirming suspiciously.

“I don't know. The last time I saw her, she was mumbling something about going to the library, and that she had loads of homework to do, and then she proceeded to lecture me sternly about how I should be doing the same thing,” Harry said, grinning crookedly.

Ron swooshed the air out of his lungs. “Phew,” he said, as he unzipped his jacket, revealing Scabbers' pink nose, and long whiskers.

Ron scowled. “It's becoming quite tiresome, trying to keep Scabbers here safe from that orange menace.”

Harry rolled his eyes. It seemed as though the battle between rat and cat, and Hermione and Ron, was only worsening. Neither would compromise, and Harry felt like he was the Quaffle in a very long game of Quidditch.

“How about we take a walk down to see Hagrid?” Ron suggested. “Scabbers here could use some fresh air, and maybe we could get a sneak peek at whatever creatures he's got lined up for his classes.”

Harry nodded; he could definitely use some fresh air as well. Being confined to the hospital wing under Poppy's watchful eyes, made him a little antsy.

As they turned to leave, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye, the haggard form of Lupin creeping up the staircase from the dungeons.

“Professor Lupin,” Harry called over.

Remus turned around, and his glower disappeared when his gaze fell on Harry. Even Snape's foul temper couldn't still the small thrill of pleasure that rose at seeing Lily and James' son.

Remus felt a tug at the corner of his eyes, as Harry's bright green eyes met his. How the boy reminded him of Lily. While he could see James' features mirrored in Harry's face as well, it was the eyes that bewitched him; Merlin how he missed Lily and James. His heart ached that James and Lily would never see their son grow up; never see the young man standing before him, who would have made them so proud.

The corners of Remus' eyes crinkled in concern. “How have you been Harry? I heard that you had a little incident yesterday?”

Harry fidgeted under his piercing stare. He really hated being pitied, and felt incredibly embarrassed that he'd allowed his guard down yesterday.

“Yeah, but I'm fine now,” he added hastily.

“I'm really looking forward to your class,” Harry changed the subject quickly.

“So am I Harry. I have some, what I hope, will be very interesting lessons planned,” Remus said absent-mindedly, as his eyes kept shifting to the bundle, squirming in Ron's grasp.

Suddenly, Scabbers began squealing and clawing at Ron's t-shirt. “Calm down Scabbers.”

“Do you think that Crookshanks is hiding somewhere?” Ron asked frantically.

“You know Ron, I'm very good with animals,” Remus said, putting his arms out to grab the now, frantic rodent.

Just as Remus was about to grasp onto the rat, Ron swore, as Scabbers sunk his teeth into his arm, and slipped out of his grasp. Ron scurried after his rat, as it slithered in and out of irritated students' feet, almost tripping them, as it ran up the charmed staircase.

Remus clenched his fists in frustration.

“There's something very strange about that rat,” Harry said, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Remus looked at him oddly. “You have no idea,” he said under his breath.

Ten minutes later, a flustered looking Ron rejoined them, nursing his injured arm.

Harry's eyes widened in concern. “Are you okay Ron? Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey and have it checked?”

“No, I'm fine,” he growled. “It's all Crookshanks' fault. And Hermione's," he said through gritted teeth.

Remus narrowed his eyes at Ron. “Where's Pe-uh...Scabbers, Ron?”

“Oh, he's up in his cage in the Tower.”

Harry tugged at Ron's uninjured arm. “C'mon Ron, let's go visit Hagrid. It'll do you good to get your mind off of everything.”

Ron nodded.

“Would you like to come Professor?” Harry asked, thinking that the professor looked very peaked all of a sudden, and could probably use some fresh air.

Remus wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. “Uh...no thank you Harry. I have some, uh...things I have to take care of,” he said; his gaze shifted up towards the staircase.

“Excuse me,” he said gruffly, and turned around quickly. With his back turned to Harry and Ron, he slipped his hand into his pocket, and retrieved his flask. He took a swig, and clasped tightly onto the banister, as he fought off a wave of dizziness.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. “Do you think that he's going to be alright?” Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. “Don't know--but he was sure acting strange.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled.

“C'mon, let's go,” Ron said, as he pulled on Harry's jacket; jerking the smaller boy forward as he did so.

"Absolutely not Mr. Potter."

Harry bit his bottom lip, and looked up at his Professor with those endless pools of emerald. But Severus hardened his resolve. The boy may have the Headmaster and his Head of House wrapped around his little finger, with those cutesy little puppy-dog eyes, and trembling bottom lip, but he prided himself on being immune to the whims of irritating children—even children, whose eyes were the exactly the same deep shade of green as....

"But Professor, I-"

Severus' obsidian eyes flashed dangerously. He leant forward, towards the defiantly stupid boy, and towered over him, annunciating every syllable, in a silky baritone staccato, "You. Are. Not. Going. To. Hogsmeade. End of story. The subject is closed."

Harry clenched his fists. It wasn't fair. He'd be the only one in the castle while everyone else got to have some fun. He felt a stab of frustration. Snape as usual, was just saying no, because he could do so.

Harry looked up to see that Snape was studying him with his dark gaze.

"Must I remind you Potter, that you are the prey of a homicidal maniac? Black would like nothing more than to finish the job that he started out to do, when he handed your parents to the Dark Lord on a silver platter. Are you really such an imbecile?"

Harry bristled with resentment.

"But sir, surely Sirius Black would not be so stupid as to do anything in broad daylight, and there'll be other students, and-"

"Mr. Potter," Snape barked. "I have more important matters to attend to than to stand here all day, and drill some sense into that thick skull of yours."

"But-"

"I have given you my answer Potter, and if you wish to pursue this conversation, you will do so, while you scrub cauldrons. Is that clear enough for you?" he sneered.

Harry's lips turned downward into a pout. He knew it had been a lost cause, when McGonagall had flatly refused to consider the matter. And she was practically putty in his hands, compared to Snape. No, scratch that...they were both miserable old sticks-in-the mud.

Damn, Harry thought regretfully, why didn't I just go to Dumbledore to begin with? Now him, I can manipulate with just the right tone of voice, and sorrowful look...

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he glared with piercing intensity at Harry—as though he could read his mind; Harry often swore that the man was capable of just that...

"Give me that permission slip."

"What?"

"I said," Severus said, leaning in even closer, so that Harry could feel his hot breath tickle his cheek, "give me that permission slip. I don't trust you not to run to the Headmaster and convince him to allow you to go," he sneered.

Harry reluctantly handed the man the crumpled-up piece of paper, with a fierce glare.

Severus was startled momentarily. Potter looked very little like his father at this moment. As a matter of fact, although the change had been gradual, Severus was certain that Potter's cheekbones had become a little sharper in the past few weeks, his nose a little straighter, and a little longer...

Severus straightened up, and glared down at the boy, over his crooked nose, to hide his confusion.

"Get to class Potter," he finally growled.

Harry's shoulders slumped. He had known that there was nothing for it, when McGonagall had informed him that only a parent or guardian could sign the permission slip, and suggested that he ask Professor Snape, as the Headmaster had informed all the staff, that he'd been assigned as Harry's temporary legal guardian, until a more suitable replacement could be found.

Of course, Harry thought bitterly, no one would want to be his permanent guardian, well maybe the Weasleys, but definitely not Snape. No...Snape may have taken him in over the summer, but it was only out of a sense of duty to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had promised that he would never go back to the Dursleys, so why not find someone who was more willing to be his guardian...someone more permanent?

Harry shook his head; it always seemed that the wheels in Dumbledore's mind were constantly spinning. Who knew what reasoning he'd had to name Snape as his temporary guardian? The man was brilliant, but eccentric.

As Harry looked up into the Snape's cold black eyes, Harry was hit like a Bludger to the stomach, at the realisation, that this man was for all intents and purposes, in complete control of his life--temporary or not!

Harry shut the door to Snape's office, and quietly slipped out, feeling frustrated and angry. Where did the greasy git get off telling him that he couldn't go to Hogsmeade? Snape wasn't his father, and wasn't even his real guardian. He was just someone that hated him, and had treated him like scum for the past two years. Okay, so the bat didn't exactly treat him like scum this summer, and yeah...he gave Harry plenty to eat, and made sure that he was protected safely inside the castle, and defended him against his own Slytherins--even taking points from his own House. But that didn't mean that he liked the man!

------

"So what did the greasy git say?" Ron asked, as they climbed the winding staircase to the Divination classroom.

Harry sighed. "What do you think that he said?

Ron's freckled face, twisted into a scowl. "No, of course."

Harry's lips curled into a bitter smile.

Harry's shoulders slumped dejectedly. "You'd be right of course."

Ron hitched his book bag further up on his shoulder. "Why the hell would Dumbledore make Snape your guardian anyway? Why not my parents?" he huffed.

"Yeah, I asked McGonagall that, and she said that your parents have enough to be going on with--that they have already enough children to care for and that Dumbledore felt that I needed someone who could protect me adequately. Also, that he didn't want your parents to become a target."

Ron looked at him skeptically. "Yeah, but why Snape of all people?"

Harry scowled. 'Would you believe that McGonagall said that Snape was a good choice because he would keep me in line?"

Ron's jaw fell. "What?"

Harry raked his hand through his messy black hair, which was actually starting to behave more and more. "Yeah, she said that I'd think twice about doing something reckless with Snape watching over me, and I'd be safer."

"She's gone bloody mental," Ron said incredulously.

"Yeah, I'll just have to prove her wrong." Harry said thoughtfully.

At Ron's searching look, Harry elaborated, "I meant the keeping me in line bit."

Ron grinned. "Oh, okay then. Yeah, what a nerve. What do you say that we put your dad's invisibility cloak to good use this weekend?

Harry gave Ron a conspiring look. "Great minds think alike."

Ron stopped in mid-step, causing Neville behind him to almost lose his balance on the marble step.

"Sorry mate," Ron apologised to Neville, and tugged slightly on Harry's sleeve to pull him closer. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "I wouldn't tell Hermione if I were you."

Harry nodded. "Good point. She'd have a fit if she even suspected that I was planning on sneaking out to Hogsmeade."

Ron's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Where is Hermione by the way?" He swiveled his head. He glanced around at the last straggle of students that were making their way up the staircase behind him. Hermione was nowhere in sight.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Haven't seen her since breakfast."

"If she doesn't come soon, she's going to be late," Ron observed, with a quirk of his pale lips. Hermione was never late to class. Hermione never failed a quiz. Hermione never failed to complete her homework. Hermione never got into trouble, and Hermione never got a detention. Well...scratch the last two. Ron took perverse pleasure in the knowledge that perhaps he and Harry had influenced their uptight friend to let her hair down a bit and not be so hesitant to bend the rules a bit. After all, that was what rules were for, were they not? At least, that was Fred and George's motto.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the heavy scent of incense that clung to the air, as they entered the Divination classroom. Small tables with floral-patterned tablecloths draped over them, dotted the room. Harry shook his head; he felt like he was at a crossover between a tea-party and a séance. Shelves, housing hundreds of tea-cups and saucers lined the classroom, and each student had their own teacup and saucer in front of them.

Harry and Ron smirked at each other, and quickly took a seat at the nearest table.

"Welcome to the Art of Divination."

Harry shuddered. If ever he'd imagined what a human insect would look like, well...Professor Trelawney was it.

Professor Trelawney was a thin woman, with frizzy orange hair and a pointed, pale face. She wore large-framed black glasses with thick lenses that magnified her eyes, making them look three times their size. She wore long flowing robes, with brightly-coloured silk scarves around her neck and so many long, heavy gold and silver chains around her neck that Harry wondered how on earth she managed to stay upright; they looked as though they weighed a ton.

"In this class," she continued, "you will learn if you have the sight."

"What a load of rubbish."

Harry swirled his head around, and he and Ron shared an incredulous look.

Hermione was squeezed in between the two of them, looking for the entire world that she had been sitting there the whole time.

Ron scrunched up his face, in a puzzled frown. "Where'd you come from?" he whispered.

"What do you mean? I've been here the whole time."

Before Harry or Ron could question her further, Trelawney's hypnotic drawl interrupted them.

"Now, you will each take turns reading each others' futures."

Ron rolled his eyes. "How in bloody hell are we supposed to do that?"

"Look deeply into your teacup and the answer will reveal itself to you," Trelawney said in an airy voice.

---------

Harry couldn't flee the classroom soon enough, when the bell rang.

Trelawney's strange words echoed in his ear, and he couldn't get the sight of the coffee grounds swirling in the cup, morphing into the form of, what looked like the Grim. He shivered. Why couldn't his life ever be simple? Was danger to follow him, wherever he went? Was this to be an omen of what life had in store for him? And was this a sign to solidify what he'd always believed; that his was going to be a short life, fraught with danger and mystery? Was Malfoy Sr. right? Was he going to meet a sticky end, just like his parents had?

Harry loosened his tie; his head was swirling and he felt as though he couldn't get enough air.

Ron laid his hand on Harry's arm, and held him back.

"Are you alright mate?"

Harry swiped his sweaty brow and nodded. "Yeah, sure. I mean... it's all rubbish-- just like Hermione said, right?"

"Yeah of course it is. There's no such thing as the Grim. It's all nonsense."

Harry suspected that Ron was simply trying to assuage his fears, and didn't believe a word of what he was saying.

Harry tried to forget the image of the glittering charcoal eyes, and the long, yellow pointy teeth.

-----------

Harry hung back and watched the throngs of students lining up and handing Filch and McGonagall their permission slips, so that they might attend the Hogsmeade trip. He felt the bitter resentment rise up like bile once more; again he wasn't allowed to be normal, just for once in his life.

No...of course not!! Merlin forbid that Harry bloody Boy-Who-Lived Potter should ever have fun--should ever be allowed to just be a kid; without a care in the world. Not having to worry about a maniacal killer who was out for his blood.

Harry clutched his invisibility cloak tightly and ground his teeth. One thing was for certain--he was not going to miss out on Hogsmeade again. He knew of course, that if he got caught, he'd be in deep trouble. Snape would turn him into Potions ingredients. Harry shivered. He did not want to think about the fact that Snape was now his guardian--temporary or otherwise.

Well, he'd be damned if he'd miss another trip to Hogsmeade. Last one had been bad enough.

Just as he was about to slip his invisibility cloak over his shoulders, someone grabbed him by the back of his jumper and he was pulled behind a pillar by two pair of strong arms; namely--Fred and George Weasley's strong arms!

"What?" Harry sputtered in protest. "What are you doing? I'm trying to get to Hogsmeade."

"And we are here to make your life that much easier," they said in unison, with twin smirks to match.

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows. "And just how are you going to do that?"

George reached into his trousers' pocket, and handed the contents to a puzzled Harry.

"With this, my little friend."

----------

Remus ran his long fingers through his windblown hair. A small breeze rippled through the trees, and his stomach clenched as his pale eyes fell on the branches of the Whomping willow, smacking the ground with a thud, and flinging the earth, that was softened from the recent rainfall, into the air.

With a sigh, he pushed the strap of his tattered duffel bag, further up his frail shoulder, and trudged up the pathway towards the wrought-iron gates.

The pale yellow glow of the setting sun, dipping behind the distant mountains shadowed the majestic arches of Hogwarts.

As Remus entered the castle, his heels clacking on the marble floors echoed through the high walls of the Castle. He pulled his pocket watch from his trousers' pocket, and looked around at the students streaming out of the Great Hall; dinner-time had just ended.

"Ah. Remus."

Remus swung his head around.

"Headmaster."

"Back from your stroll?"

Remus furrowed his brow. "My stroll?"

We missed you at dinner," Albus said softly--his normally twinkling blue eyes, clouded with concern. "You are not...ill? he asked, leaning forward slightly to study the younger man's pale face.

Remus shook his head. "Ill?" Comprehension lit up his eyes. "Oh, ill! No Albus." He patted his bulging trousers' pocket. He still had enough Wolfsbane to carry him through the period before and after the Full-Moon. "I am quite fine."

"Severus, I trust has been a little more...co-operative, shall we say?"

"Cooperative?"

Remus shook his head. Co-operative was not a word that he'd ever used to describe Severus Snape.

"Yes, I had a rather stern talk with him and he won't be holding your Wolfsbane hostage again, I assure you."

"Hostage?" Remus crinkled his brow. "Well, that is reassuring I suppose."

Albus pulled out a Sherbet Lemon from his pocket and offered it to the haggard-looking man.

"No thank you Albus.'

Albus' eyes sparkled when he smiled. "Very well then. Feel free to request some dinner from the kitchens. You're looking rather peaked, if you don't mind me saying."

"Thank you Albus, I believe I will. I am rather exhausted after my long journey."

Now it was Albus' turn to look confused. "Long journey?" Albus nodded his head slowly. "Well, then perhaps an early night is called for."

"Yes, I do believe you are right."

"Good evening then Remus. Oh....and Remus-"

"Yes?"

"Word is...that the students are quite pleased with your performance thus far as Defence Professor. Well done."

Remus lips parted in surprise.

"Thank you," he stuttered.

Remus watched the Headmaster glide off in a flurry of star-and-moon decorated blue robes, with the grace and speed of man half his age.

The man may be brilliant in many ways, he thought, but still spoke in riddles, as he'd always done.

Remus made his way to his quarters, thinking only of a lovely cuppa and putting his weary feet up.

Remus let his duffle bag drop with a thud to the floor, and pointed his wand at the lock on the door to his private quarters. He muttered the password, and with a swish of his wand, the door opened with a pop.

The first thing that Remus noticed when he stepped into his quarters was the colourful array of clothes strewn about the parlour. Remus picked up a pair of worn grey trousers that were hanging on the back of the sofa; he narrowed his eyes. These were the same pair of trousers that had mysteriously gone missing from his suitcase, along with....

Remus' heart was pounding with a thud. There was a dark blue cardigan, black socks, a pair of scuffed-up black shoes; every item of clothing that had gone missing weeks ago.

Sounds of water dripping from the direction of the loo had Lupin whipping out his wand as he stealthily made his way down the darkened corridor.

Remus cautiously grabbed the door-handle with one hand, gripping the smooth, polished wood handle of his wand, till his knuckles ached.

As Remus inched open the door to the lavatory, his robes clung to him; billows of steam crept up his nostrils, and his skin felt clammy. Strains of singing--off-key singing, had him loosening his grip on his wand. He raked his hand through his now moist hair. He could see the silhouette of a tall figure behind the floral shower curtains, obviously scrubbing every inch of his body. Remus coloured, as he imagined having to confront an intruder who was starkers!

The pipes creaked and protested as the shower was turned off, and a thin, dripping-wet, hairy arm reached out to grab a towel from the towel rack.

Remus rather doubted, that a naked, dripping-wet intruder was going to be much trouble subduing, so he pocketed his wand, and folded his arms across his chest. However, his amused expression froze on his face, when the rungs on the shower curtain clattered on the metal pole overhead, as they were pulled aside, and first a rather large big toe appeared, followed by a long thin leg, and torso, wrapped in a fluffy-white bath towel, and a face that matched his own, stared back in horror.

---------

Harry's heart beat against his chest, as he frantically scrambled back along tunnel. He had just shoved his invisibility cloak in back of the statue of the Hump-Backed Witch, when he looked up--only to see the glittering black eyes of one extremely pissed-off Severus Snape.

Harry swallowed the large lump in his throat and wiped his muddy hands as discretely as possible on the rough fabric of his jeans.

Harry mustered as innocent an expression as he possibly could, and looked up into the tight, thin-lipped face of Snape. "Professor." was the only words he could choke out.

Damned, Harry thought. He knew that his temper and his penchant for acting first and thinking later, would be the death of him, but bloody hell, he could not let that prat Malfoy get away with harassing his best friends. He should have known that Malfoy would go running to his Head of House. But, it was so much fun to torture Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. And the look on their faces, when mud came flying out of nowhere! It was worth even the possible weeks of detention he faced with Snape just to put the toerag in his place.

"Follow me Potter," Snape's cold voice ordered.

Harry gulped. On second thought, maybe a few hours fun in Hogsmeade, and having one up on Malfoy and his goons, was not worth facing Snape's wrath.

Harry's legs were shaking as he ran to keep up with Snape's billowing robes.

They turned the corner abruptly, and Harry stopped--rooted to the spot.

"Potter." Snape's silky voice forced his quivering limbs to obey.

Harry sneaked another look behind him, but the corridors were empty. Maybe too many Sugar Quills were to blame, or maybe too much fresh air... Harry shook his head; he'd only had one Firewhiskey at The Three Broomsticks. Surely, that wasn't enough to be making him see double? But he could have sworn that he'd seen Professor Lupin having an animated conversation with himself!

A loud cackle greeted his ears, as Remus jabbed his wand into his twin's midsection.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"Who are you?" Remus demanded.

"I'm hurt Moony."

"How do you know my name?"

"The same way that I know that Steak and Kidney Pie is your favourite meal, you like to sleep on your left side, you have a birth-mark on your right buttock, and you count down the days till the next full moon on your calendar."

The colour drained from Remus' scarred face.

"Sirius?" he whispered.

"One and the same." he answered with a crooked grin that faltered when Remus, instead of lowering his wand, shoved it even harder into Sirius' belly.

Conflicting emotions warred within Remus, as he clutched the handle of his wand so tightly, that his knuckles turned white. A part of him wanted to grasp the man, whom was closer to him than his own brother, by his bony shoulders, and never let him disappear again, and another part of him, felt his nostrils flare with irritation; how dare the man send him on a wild goose chase? How dare the man betray his best friends like that? How dare the man leave him alone; not when he'd already lost James and Lily.

But then a gnawing fury began to make his blood boil.

Sirius had betrayed James and Lily, left Peter for dead; leaving only a bloodied finger. This was the same man that James, he and Peter shared their deepest secrets with; the same man that he'd trusted with his very life, and Sirius had betrayed them all.

"Remus?" Sirius' eyes widened in surprised horror.

"You betrayed James and Lily, and killed Peter," Remus said in a low, guttural voice. "Give me one good reason not to turn you over to the Dementors."

"Remus please, let me explain."

"There is no explanation. You are a traitor," Remus said in a deadly, cold tone. His eyes glittered. "As a matter of fact," he said, twirling the wand as he shoved it even further into the folds of Sirius' stomach. "I think that the Dementors are too good for you. You deserve the same fate as James, Lily and Peter."

The hair on Sirius' arms stood on end; he was again reminded of the beast that lurked within the kind, gentle man who was his boyhood friend. Remus could easily snap his scrawny neck in two, and ask questions later.

"Remus, please..." Sirius gasped for breath. "They changed secret keepers," he said, his throat constricting from lack of oxygen.

"What?"

"I wasn't the secret keeper," Sirius croaked.

Remus growled. "I don't believe you! You're lying."

"I swear it's true. Please..." Sirius pleaded.

Remus clutched Sirius by the collar, and began to drag him towards the door.

"I believe that we'll let the Dementors decide if you're telling the truth," Remus growled.

He yanked open the door; and got halfway down the corridor, when he felt Sirius' thin body, wrack with sobs.

"They were my best friends. Please believe me Moony," he pleaded. "We were best mates. How could you ever think that I would betray them?"

Remus stopped abruptly

A niggle of doubt began to creep into his gut.

Sirius could see a shadow of doubt cross over Remus' face.

"Are you going to turn me in?"

Remus shook his head. "I don't know," he said gruffly, lowering his wand slowly.

Sirius swooshed out the breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, wondering if you're best friend was about to turn you over to the Dementors. Clammy, cold prickles of fear tingled up his spine, just thinking about those decrepit creatures. How he had survived twelve years in Azkaban, was a testament to Sirius' strength of will.

"But you have a lot of explaining to do, Sirius," Remus said sternly.

"I know," Sirius whispered.

He clutched desperately at the sleeve of Remus' tattered robes; his voice trembled with desperation.

"But I swear that I didn't betray Lily and James."

Remus wanted so much to believe him. Doubts had been gnawing at him since that fateful day. So many things didn't add up; there were just too many discrepancies. But, Sirius "had" been the secret keeper! He was lying! Wasn't he?

Remus sighed.

"I want to believe you..."

"I know that my actions haven't really given you a reason to, but I promise that if you give me a chance to explain... that's all I want. And if you still doubt me, then I'll turn myself in," Sirius pleaded.

Remus nodded.

His enhanced hearing detected the distant clacking of heels echoing off the high walls of the castle.

"Come," he said, as he clasped Sirius' upper arm, pulling him roughly towards his quarters. "It wouldn't do to be seen talking to myself."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

"Well? I'm waiting for an explanation, Mr. Potter," Snape said, as he tapped his long fingers on the desktop.

The lump in Harry's throat refused to dissolve.

He stared wide-eyed up at his, now irate Professor. Those glittering black eyes just seem to bore a hole through him. Think fast Harry, he told himself.

"I told you sir. I was up in the Tower the whole time."

Snape leant down further, until his large hands were on either side of the chair that Harry was sitting in.

Harry felt like a fly caught in a spider's web.

"I do not tolerate liars, Mr. Potter," Snape said in a dangerous tone. "Now, supper is going to be served in the Great Hall soon, and you can ill afford to skip a meal, so I suggest that you clear your guilty conscience and admit that you've yet again broken school rules which are in place for your safety, and went to Hogsmeade without permission."

Harry's heart raced faster.

"I-"

Frantic knocking saved Harry from having to come up with a plausible lie as to his whereabouts this afternoon.

A small, auburn-haired girl, with large blue eyes peeked her head through the crack, as the Potions Master opened the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt sir," the small Slytherin first-year said timidly, "but Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you immediately in his chambers."

Snape clucked his tongue impatiently.

The headmaster had the worst timing; it was as if that he knew that his Golden Boy was in trouble, and had come to rescue him from his well-deserved punishment, yet again.

"Thank you Miss Barrington. You may tell the headmaster that I shall be there shortly."

"Yes sir."

Snape whipped his head around, nailing Harry with his dark eyes. He pointed a long finger at him.

"You and I are not finished with this conversation. Not by a long shot," he said threateningly.

The hairs on Harry's arm stood on end. At least he would have more time to come up with a good story.

"You may proceed to dinner, but you and I will be taking up this conversation where we left off, young man. Of that you may be assured."

Harry gulped.

That was a threat, not a promise.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Remus gripped the counter top, digging his nails into the wood.

"Peter Pettigrew?" he whispered. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Sirius said, through gritted teeth. "James and Lily changed secret keepers at the last moment. They were sure that the change would keep them safer—that no one would ever suspect." He slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the tea-pot sitting in the middle. Anguish wrenched his heart. "He was their friend."

"I know," Remus whispered. "But he'll pay. I promise you that."

Sirius nodded. "Harry isn't safe," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

Remus yanked the chair out from under the table, and poured himself some tea. "No, he isn't."

The polyjuice was beginning to wear off; it was an odd combination, Sirius' blue eyes twinkling back from half of his own scarred face.

"He's a great kid, Remus. He's got Lily's eyes," Sirius said in a strangled voice. "Odd though," he said raking his hands through his straggly hair. He reminds me of James in many ways, but he doesn't look all that much like him. The cheek bones are a little too sharp; the hair a little too straight."

Remus gave him an odd look.

A sharp rap at the door, however, brought a halt to their conversation.

"Quickly," Remus whispered, "go hide. Can't have anyone see you." Once Sirius was safely out of sight, he opened his door. "Harry," he said, looking fondly down at his best friend's son.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you a moment."

Remus looked back anxiously towards the hallway.

"I'm sorry Harry, but it's not the best of times."

Harry swallowed his disappointment. "Oh," he said softly. "That's alright. I'll talk to you later."

A gentle hand landed on Harry's shoulder as he turned to leave.

"Wait. Have you had dinner yet?" Remus asked.

"No sir. Not yet."

Remus looked down on the thin teenager. Sirius was right; with those large, expressive emerald eyes, and his soft, pale skin, framed by silky black hair that rippled with subtle auburn highlights, there was no doubt that Harry was Lily's son, but while there was a slight resemblance to James', with his signature round frames on Harry's young face, the resemblance ended there. Harry's cheekbones were chiseled finely, the nose was slightly longer, and Harry's lips were not as full as James' were.

"Well, why don't you go eat dinner, and come back to my quarters, at let us say eight, and we'll have tea together?

Harry smiled up into Remus' soft brown eyes. "That would be great sir."

Once he was gone, Sirius slipped out of hiding. Remus stared at him. "Sirius? Are you all right?"

"He should be with me," Sirius said, swallowing the lump in his throat. He fell down heavily into the chair, and leant his head in his hands.

Remus looked at him questioningly.

"Did you know that that big tub of lard, Dursley, used James' son as a punching bag?"

Remus' breath hitched in his throat.

"He what?"

Remus could feel his animal senses bubble up inside him; he wanted to rip the man apart with his bare hands. Dursley could count himself lucky that it was not the full-moon, because Remus was sure, that even with Wolfsbane to temper his animalistic urges, he'd not be able to stop himself.

A brittle laugh erupted from Sirius' throat. "They placed him with Snape, of all people. Can you believe it? Snape has been given guardianship of my godson."

Remus shook his head at the irony of James' son being placed with Snape. James would have turned over in his grave.

"Harry did admit to me that Snape is treating him better than he used to. He'd damned well better be treating my godson well, or he'll haveme to answer to."

Sirius growled in frustration.

"Damn it Remus, I'm the one who should be protecting Harry. Instead, I'm the one they're protecting him from."

"We'll prove your innocence Sirius. I promise. And then, you and Harry can be a family," he promised.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Students scattered in every direction; from first years to seventh years, students learnt very quickly to stay out of Professor's Snape's way, when his pale face was tight with a scowl, and his black robes billowed behind him, more than four inches in the air. Even Slytherins were not immune to Snape's acid tongue when he stalked down the halls of Hogwarts, in such a fashion.

"Headmaster," Severus said, his lips a thin line, stretched across his face.

'Ah, Severus. Have a seat please."

"I am in rather a hurry. Your summons came at an extraordinarily inopportune moment. I was having a very insightful conversation with Mr. Potter."

Albus' eyes widened in surprise. "Harry? And how is young Mr. Potter coping these days?"

Albus felt a twinge of guilt; he'd been neglecting Harry-partially because he was consumed with other matters, and partially because he had been hoping that the fragile bond that was beginning to form between Harry and Severus would continue to grow. Harry needed someone, and Severus had been alone too long, and there were "other" reasons...

"I have other pressing matters to deal with, Headmaster. I have no time for idle chit-chat."

Albus' eyes twinkled. "Of course Severus. Now, have a seat. We have much to discuss."

Severus grit his teeth, and reluctantly sat down. He knew that it was pointless to argue further; he would be here, as long as it took for Albus to impart whatever information he was determined to pass on and he would not be permitted to leave before. Might as well let the lemon-sherbet obsessed man get on with it. He sighed, and sat back, squashing down his impatience.

The lines on Albus' face suddenly tightened into a serious expression. "First, I must discuss a very pressing matter with you. It concerns Harry."

Severus rolled his eyes. Doesn't every conversation concern Potter.

Albus laced his long, elegant fingers together. "I was hoping that I would have more time to find a permanent guardian for Harry, however, Cornelius has again decided to stick his crooked nose into matters that don't concern him."

A dull ache began to form in his head. In Severus' opinion, Cornelius Fudge knew not his arse from his elbow, and any matter the "he" was involved in, was bound to be disaster. However, he also knew that Albus would manipulate the situation to his advantage, and ultimately, Severus as well.

"And just how does this interference involve me Albus?"

The corner of Albus' mouth lifted slightly. "Surely you can guess Severus."

"Albus, while I agree that Potter is certainly in need of a permanent guardian, and one who is not afraid to be firm with him, I am most certainly not the ideal choice to be a guardian to a child, especially one who seems to invite trouble at every turn. I am simply not a patient man, and -"

"Nonsense Severus. I have seen how you and Harry have interacted this summer, and I believe that you have been good for each other."

His eyes twinkled in that most annoying way. "I have even seen young Harry manage to soften that prickly demeanor that you are so fond of cultivating Severus."

"Mr. Potter would be better off with the Weasleys surely. They would be able to provide him with the emotional support that I'm simply not capable of giving him."

Severus was not one to panic, but he could feel a knot form in the pit of his stomach. He just was not ready to play father to the Boy Who Lived. He was just not a parental sort of man. True, he frequently doled out advice to his Snakes in a mentorish sort of fashion, but to be solely responsible for the needs of a child, especially a child, who was reckless, head-strong and had a penchant for breaking rules; the infuriating child seemed to not have a care in the world, while he recklessly placed himself constantly in danger.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Albus. Albus looked worried, and that was a rare occurrence. Normally, the Headmaster took life's little twists and turns with a grain of salt. The man may look like a kindly grandfather sort of figure, but Severus knew what kind of raw power and strength the man possessed. There were few who ruffled Albus' feathers, and if the man look worried, Severus knew that the situation was grave.

"Wait. You said that Fudge has again stuck his nose in where it doesn't belong. How does this involve Potter, and in what other situation has Fudge got himself involved in?"

"As you know, I have attempted to keep the matter of Harry's guardianship a closely guarded secret, however, somehow Cornelius discovered Harry was whisked away from the Dursleys during the summer, and the circumstances necessitating this rescue. He has gotten it into his head, that the boy must be made a ward of the Ministry. He, of course, would hold ultimate power over Harry."

Worry lines furrowed his brow. "We cannot allow that to happen."

Albus twirled the ends of his long beard. "I'd still like to know how Cornelius discovered that Harry was extracted from his relative's care. I was careful to employ the utmost secrecy regarding his whereabouts, and only those whom I trust implicitly, were privy to this information."

Severus drew in a deep breath. "It wouldn't surprise me if the idiot showed up at Potter's door."

Albus nodded. "I rather suspect the same thing Severus. I'm sure that Vernon and Petunia gave Cornelius an earful as well. I rather suspect that they were not too pleased at the all manner of revenge that was exacted on them for mistreating their nephew."

He sent a pointed look at Severus.

"I don't even like the boy Albus. Why would I have gone to extract revenge on those Muggles?"

The sound of crackling cellophane broke through the awkward silence, as Albus peeled back the wrapping from his Sherbet Lemon, and popped it into his mouth.

"Of course not Severus. You have made your continued dislike of Harry very clear this summer, when you gave him shelter, tended to his injuries, and ensured that he was brought back to full health." Albus said, his eyes twinkling in that extremely irritating fashion, which grated on Severus' nerves.

"And of course, Petunia's ramblings of, "That horrid man in black that looks like a vampire; my freak sister's friend, stuffed poor Vernon inside the broom closet for hours," were all just the delusions of a mad woman," he said, giving Severus a knowing look.

Severus smirked. He may not like Potter, but that did not mean that he would tolerate child-abuse. A twinge of guilt rose up, as he realised that his own treatment of Potter over the past two years, had not been right either. Well, he was working on that, wasn't he? But changing his behaviour towards the boy, and assuming total responsibility for his welfare, was quite another matter. One that he really wasn't ready to consider. He had allowed Albus to convince him that the temporary guardianship of the child was just that, temporary, but then again, he should have known that Albus would have plans; he always had plans. The man was a born schemer, who was quite cultured in the art of persuasion. It was hard to deny Albus Dumbledore for long, when he got a bee in his bonnet.

Severus sighed in defeat. "Very well Albus. I may have paid the Dursleys a little visit to extend my disapproval for their treatment of their nephew, but that doesn't mean that I am ready to assume full responsibility for the brat."

"Severus!" Albus admonished. "I thought that you were past this petty, derogatory name-calling."

"Sorry Albus. I admit, I do not-" oh how this was going to cost him, Severus thought, '-dislike the boy any longer. I still feel however," he said, with tight-lipped disapproval, "that you are far too lenient with him, and pander to his penchant for placing himself in danger too frequently."

"Perhaps you are right Severus. I do have a hard time being stern with the boy. He is just such an endearing child."

Severus rolled his eyes. "He has you wrapped around his little finger."

"Yes, I agree Severus. He would be far better with someone who could be firm with him, protect him, and instill a sense of self-preservation in him. Perhaps Harry would do well with someone who was not so much like himself. Perhaps the boy needs someone who is refined in the art of cunning, strategy and taking time to weigh the situation, instead of rushing headlong into the unknown. Perhaps a Slytherin influence would be good for Harry. Have I ever told you the story of Harry's sorting, and how close he had come to be sorted in your own House?"

"I know what you are trying to do," Severus growled.

Albus' eyes sparkled with mirth. "Is it working?"

"If I were to agree to this-" he held up a long potion-stained finger, at Albus' excited expression. "-and that is a big if, how will you convince the Ministry to allow me to assume Guardianship of the Boy Who Lived?"

"Aw, but that my boy is not for you to worry about. I have-" he leant forward and fixed Severus with his hypnotic gaze, "-connections at the Department of Wizarding Child Services."

"Fudge will blow a gasket, Albus"

The corner of Albus' mouth lifted slightly. "Yes he will. But he will be powerless to interfere. The Wizengamot, of which I am a senior member, holds ultimate power over the Ministry of Child Affairs. Once the matter is settled, and I have no fear that it will be expedited without problem, then I will present it to Cornelius, as a fait accompli."

"He will be out for your blood," Severus pointed out dryly.

Albus waved his hands in a carefree manner. "He will have to stand in line, won't he?"

"What is the catch Albus? I find it hard to believe that the Ministry would just appoint me, a former Death Eater, permanent guardianship of The Boy Who Lived, without batting so much as an eyelid."

"Well yes, there is the matter of an interview with you and Harry," he admitted sheepishly.

"And you believe that I would pass this interview with flying colours, and that Potter will just agree to this guardianship without word of protest? You are seriously deluded old man."

Albus chuckled. "Ah, but Severus, I never said that it would be easy. Nothing in life is ever easy, but I plan to have a long conversation with Harry and point out to him, the advantages of having you as his protector and mentor."

Severus shook his head; his long hair slapping the sides of his pale face. "Good luck on that Albus. Now, if you'll excuse me. I really do have other matters to attend to," he said, lifting himself out of his chair.

"Sit back down Severus. There is another, serious matter I must discuss with you..."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HPHP HP HP HP

Harry plopped himself down tiredly on the bed.

A flash of red peeked out from behind the heavy drapes of the bed next to him. "Harry?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Where have you been all night? It's past curfew."

"With Snape," Harry said tiredly.

"Snape actually let you stay out after curfew?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yeah well, he was too busy gloating," Harry said angrily. "Besides, he walked me back to the Tower, to make sure I didn't go wandering off again after curfew, as he put it," Harry said, grinding his teeth.

"Gloating?"

"Yeah, gloating at me, because he saw the mud on the bottom of my jeans, and he figures that that was proof enough that I was in Hogsmeade and threw mud at Malfoy. So he gave me detention, even though he had no real proof that I did anything wrong-the Greasy Git," Harry fumed. "I had to scrub cauldrons until my hands were raw." He examined his fingers meticulously; okay, so he had exaggerated, but it still really sucked that he'd been punished for something that Snape had no proof of.

"Can you believe it? Snape punished me for something I might not have even done!" he huffed.

"Uh Harry, I hate to point this out to you, but don't you think that maybe you shouldn't be all indignant and everything. Considering that you are technically guilty.

At Harry's glare, he added. "But it was brilliant though, and Malfoy did deserve to get plastered with mud, and yeah, Snape's a real git for giving you detention when all he has to go on is a bit of mud on your trousers." Ron couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

Harry tried to maintain a fierce glare, but in the end, he too laughed so hard at the irony of it all, that his stomach hurt.

"Okay," Harry admitted, "Maybe I did technically deserve to be punished, but it's still unfair that Snape jumped down my throat, when he didn't know for sure that I did it," Harry grumbled.

Ron yanked open the curtains, "Hey, wait a minute. Where's your invisibility cloak? Snape didn't take it, did he?" he asked in horror.

"No, but I had to leave it behind the hump-backed witch," Harry said, worrying his lower lip.

Suddenly Harry jumped up, making Ron almost fall backwards in surprise. "I've got to go get it, before Malfoy finds it, or worse...Snape!" Harry exclaimed.

"Now?" Ron asked in horror. "Are you nuts? If Snape catches you..."

"He won't catch me. I've got the map," Harry said, as he rummaged through his trunk, searching for the map.

"Harry, I really don't think that this is such a great idea."

"Well, what else can I do? I can't go there during the day. Someone will see me for sure."

"Do you want me to go with you?' Ron asked hesitantly.

Harry shook his head. "No! No sense in both of us risking ourselves. You stay here, and if anyone asks, will you cover for me?"

"Of course mate."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry's eyes darted back and forth in the dark; he could feel his heart beat frantically against his chest.

He held his breath, and flattened himself against the wall, as he saw the glittering eyes of Mrs. Norris peek around the next corner, and Filch's raspy voice call out,

"What you got there Mrs. Norris? A student out of bed?" he said nastily.

Harry held his breath; all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears.

Filch's lantern swung back and forth in the murky black.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Filch say, "It's all quiet over here. Come, my pretty. Let's go check over there."

Harry stealthily made his way down the staircase, without incident, and held his dad's cloak to his chest, as he pulled it from behind the statue; a warm feeling spread over his chest, as he thought of his dad, using this very same cloak to plan exciting adventures.

Harry slipped the smooth, silky fabric over his head, and pulled The Marauder's Map out of his pocket.

He stared dizzily at the footprints pattering all over it.

Harry's stomach swooped.

He stared at the map, and blinked his eyes. No, it couldn't be!

Unless there was a serious flaw with the Marauder's Map, the name on the label showed that the occupant presently in Professor's Lupin's quarters with him, was no other than the escaped murderer...Sirius Black!

Severus stared at her picture.

"Lily. Oh Lily. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

She smiled up at him and waved; her long red hair cascading upon her shoulders.

She was leaning up against the large old oak tree in the front garden of her parent's' house.

Severus remembered that summer very clearly. They were both sixteen, and very much in love. It had been one of the best summers that Severus could ever remember spending in his young life.

Severus and Lily had spent every moment together, planning their lives. They would get married the minute they finished school, and they would live happily-ever-after, raising their large brood of children together. Lily had laughingly teased how they would have at least a dozen.

Severus had allowed himself to dream. Yes, he could imagine his daughters with their long red pony-tails and large emerald eyes staring up at him, with Lily's gentle smile.

And as Lily sent shivers up his spine as she ran her long slender fingers through his hair, she gently teased him that their sons would look just like their father with their dark eyes and silky black hair, Severus showered her with kisses and laughed that they most definitely must not have his nose.

Severus' heart ached as he remembered just how perfect that summer had been; how carefree and happy they'd been, and how perfect their future would be.

And then he'd gone and spoilt it all…

Strangely enough, Severus and Lily managed to remain quite close, up until their sixth year, despite being in different Houses, and despite James Potter's growing determination to have Lily for himself.

Severus knew that he couldn't compete with the handsome Quidditch player, and he admitted to himself that it was his own obsessive jealously that drove them apart and Lily into Potter's arms.

He could admit it now, but at the time, he had allowed his insecurities to slowly poison his relationship with Lily.

Dark forces began to gather that September, and Severus' growing hatred of all things Potter and Black , made him grow progressively more paranoid and jealous; perfectly vulnerable to fall for the Dark Lord's promises of power and glory.

Severus threw his full glass against the fireplace; the fire hissed and crackled as the ruby liquid touched the flame.

Lily had begged and pleaded with him to listen to reason, but no… Severus knew better. It didn't matter that everything the Dark Lord stood for was everything that his beloved Lily wasn't.

How could he have been so bloody blind?

He had never deserved Lily and had betrayed her in every way possible.

Although he knew that Potter had been the better man; he hadn't been perfect by any means, but he hadn't kissed the arse of the Darkest Wizard alive since Grindewald either. He hadn't betrayed the woman he supposedly loved. by turning his back on her and uttering the most foul, evil word possible.

No, James Potter had only stood on the side-lines, patiently waiting while Severus himself had single-handedly destroyed the delicate, perfect love that he'd shared with the most gentle, kind, loving woman he'd ever known.

Severus had no one to blame but himself.

And now, Lily and James had requested his presence at the reading of the will? It made little sense.

Even if Lily had forgiven him for his horribly selfish actions, why would Potter have mentioned him in his will as well?

It was a restless and anguished sleep that Severus succumbed to.

With the morning light flooding through the dungeon quarter's small, round windows, Severus' heart felt no less squeezed inside his chest, as his eyelids fluttered opened that fateful morning.

"Tell me more about some of the pranks that my dad used to pull on you," Harry asked eagerly.

Sirius chuckled. "I don't think that I had better give you any more ideas. James and I spent a good portion of our time here at Hogwarts in detention," he said fondly.

"McGonagall even had two chairs engraved with their names on it. I hear that they were retired the day James and Sirius left Hogwarts.," Remus added with a wink.

"Aw c'mon, Sirius," Harry pleaded. "Just one more story… please"

Sirius had to admit that it was tough saying no to his godson. A fierce protective feeling overwhelmed him.

While he really didn't look very much like James, Lily's eyes staring back at him from that young, eager face was too much to bear sometimes.

Harry looked both so young and so old at the same time. It wasn't fair that a child so young had to bear the weight of the world on their shoulders. Harry should have been raised by James and Lily; two parents who loved and protected him, gave him what every child should have; people who had his best interests at heart.

A wave of fury rose up in him as he thought of Petunia and Vernon. Sirius had to control his desire to go and hex these people within an inch of their sorry lives. But no… he wouldn't make that mistake again. Harry needed him, and as much as he wanted to exact revenge against Harry's relatives, he knew that he couldn't afford to spend another twelve years in Azkaban.

He would not fail Harry again.

Sirius felt on top of the world; he was finally a free man, and he was determined to fulfil his responsibilities as Harry's godfather.

Although Harry still looked pale, and had numerous cuts and bruises, and he sported his broken arm in a sling, the boy looked relaxed and seemed to be enjoying hearing stories about his parents from Remus and himself.

The three had been sitting all morning, since Harry had been released from the hospital, around the table in Remus' flat and Sirius had to admit that despite Harry's close call, it felt good to have such a light-hearted conversation.

Although it was painful to think of Lily and James at times, and he missed them terribly, it also helped to heal some of the pain that he'd been holding onto for so long. Besides, Harry deserved to find out about his parents. He doubted very much whether Snape would have anything good to say about James to his godson.

Sirius' blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Well, you see, there was the time that your father decided that I needed to try a water- bed."

"A water-bed?

"Oh yes. I woke up one morning, flipped back the covers, slung open the curtains around my bed, swung one foot over the side and "kerplunk". I found myself dog-paddling to stay afloat in the middle of the Great Lake."

Harry almost fell back in his chair, he laughed so hard.

"So what did you do to get back at my dad?"

"Who me?" Sirius asked with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"What makes you think that I didn't just let bygones be bygones? After all, James was my best mate. Maybe I just forgave him.

Remus snorted. "That's about as likely to happen as Albus tossing all his Sherbert Lemons in the trash bin."

"Not bloody likely," Harry said with a big grin.

"Ye of little faith," Sirius said with a chuckle.

Harry leant in a little closer, resting his broken arm on the table.

"What did you do to my dad?"

"Oh very well, if you must know.…"

"Sirius!"

Sirius popped another Bertie's every-flavoured Bean into his mouth and made a face. Ew! That tasted suspiciously like a bogey.

Sirius put his hands up. "Alright," he laughed.

"So you see, after what your father did to me, I had to come up with something really big. After all, I had a reputation to uphold."

"So, I waited awhile, until he felt really secure and wouldn't suspect anything. About a week later, the perfect opportunity presented itself. I had done a little research you see. It had to be perfect."

"One night when your dad was at Quidditch practice, I snuck into his trunk and placed a time-delay disappearing charm on his school uniform. Basically, about a half hour after the fabric touches your skin, the clothes disappear."

Harry's jaw dropped.

Sirius started laughing. "James walked into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, strutting his stuff, trying to show off for your mum, and the minute he crossed the threshold to the Great Hall, his clothes disappeared right off his back and he was standing there with only his knickers on!"

"What did he do?"

"Hell if I know! I took off out of there like a bat out of hell the minute I saw the look on his face. I turned into Snuffles and hid in the Shrieking Shack for three days!"

Harry's was fighting to keep his eyelids open.

"Okay kiddo, it's almost curfew. I think that it's time to go back."

"Can't I stay here?"

"I'd love nothing more, but you'd really better get back. Snape is your guardian and I don't think that this is the time to test him right now. Not after your little escapade," he said, giving Harry a stern look.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said sheepishly.

"Frankly, young man, you're lucky that he didn't lock you in his quarters and throw away the key. It's what I would have done."

"I know what I did was dangerous, but I'd do it again you know," Harry said, walking around and giving Sirius a fierce hug.

Sirius took Harry gently by the shoulders and looked down at him fondly.

"Harry, I appreciate what you've done for me. I really do. But I'm an adult and I'm the one who's supposed to take care of you. Nothing or no one is worth risking your life for," he said huskily.

Sirius would never have been able to live with himself if anything had happened to Harry because he had tried to save him from the Dementors. The boy meant the world to him. Not only because he was his best friend's son, but because he was Harry, who was truly a remarkable child.

Emotion clogged his throat. He squeezed Harry's shoulders lightly.

"Come. Let's go before Snape gives you detention till you graduate from Hogwarts."

"You are cutting it close, Black," Severus said snidely. "Three minutes till curfew."

"Sorry Severus. We just lost track of time."

"Yes well, the boy is falling asleep on his feet."

He pointed a long finger in the direction of the corridor.

"Bed Potter. Pomfrey will have our heads if you end up back in the hospital wing."

"Good night Sirius," Harry said sleepily, and gave his Godfather a hug.

Sirius held him tightly for a minute and said, "Good night, kiddo."

Severus fought down a wave of emotion that threatened to take hold of him, and he ignored the inner voice that said that the emotion was jealously.

Why the hell should he be jealous that Black was hugging James Potter's brat, and why should he care that the same brat was returning his Godfather's hug just as fiercely? Why should he care that Black, who was Potter's godfather, would probably want custody of him?

Severus should be happy that Black would take the Potter brat off of his hands. He would finally have his life back. He'd be free to come and go as he pleased, without having to have that burden dragging him down.

Why then did Severus feel like he was drowning when he thought of the soon-to-be empty bedroom down the hall? Why did Severus feel this twisting in his gut that it wouldn't be him protecting Lily's child anymore? The same boy who looked back at him with his mother's eyes—the same eyes that wrenched his heart whenever he peered into them and saw Lily looking back at him.

He cleared his throat.

"It's time for bed now, Potter."

Harry nodded.

"Bye Sirius."

"Bye Harry," he said softly.

As tired as Harry was, sleep just wouldn't come.

He felt terribly conflicted after the conversation he'd had with Sirius.

Sirius wanted him to go live with him—he even wanted to make it legal by adopting him. He and Sirius would be a family. He would no longer be an unwanted burden, because Harry had no doubt that Sirius loved him with all his heart.

Yet, as much as Harry knew that Snape didn't love him. Hell, the man didn't even like him; probably couldn't even stand him, and yet…

Harry lay on his bed and let his eyes roam around the room that he'd occupied for the past few weeks. He thought about all the things that Snape had done for him—a boy that he couldn't stand—a boy that he hated.

Snape had taken in and gave him something that his own family had denied him; Snape may not be a nice man, but he had taken care of Harry after his uncle had hurt him, had made sure that ate good nutritious food, a warm bed to sleep in, and Harry had always felt that the man would always keep him safe and protected.

Yeah, Snape could be a right arse sometimes; he was sarcastic, anal-retentive, overly-strict and had a cruel, sharp tongue when you displeased him. Through it all though, Harry felt a sense of security with Snape and he knew that the man would protect him with his life; hell, he'd done it many times before.

The problem was, was that as strange as it was, was that he felt torn between Snape and Sirius. It should have been an easy choice. Sirius was his parent's first choice as a guardian, and obviously cared deeply about him, whereas Snape had spent the past few years verbally abusing and cruelly taunting him.

Yet, Snape didn't seem quite as cruel or quite as hateful as he had been. It seemed to Harry that something substantial had changed between them. True, Harry could never envision getting that same warm fuzzy feeling that he got when Sirius hugged him, nor could he picture Snape ever talking to him in that same gentle, teasing lilt that his godfather did, but Harry felt that Snape offered him comfort in his own way.

Harry scoffed at the irony of it all. If anyone had told him only a few short weeks ago that he wouldn't want to get as far away from Snape as possible, he would have thought that they were barmy. But here he was; wanting the seemingly impossible—to have both Snape and Sirius in his life and for them to peacefully co-exist.

As Harry finally drifted off to sleep, he was struck by a remarkable thought. For the first time ever, Harry felt wanted and cared for by the adults in his life. As crazy as the thought was, Harry knew in his heart that Snape didn't hate him anymore, and maybe even liked him a little bit. But of course, he doubted that Snape would ever admit that to him, let alone to himself.

"How are we getting there sir?" Harry asked curiously as he sat down to breakfast the next morning.

"We will be meeting in the Headmaster's office. We will be flooing to Diagon Alley, where we will proceed to Gringotts."

"Finish up your breakfast, Potter. We haven't got all day."

Harry felt nauseous; He had felt like his stomach had been wrung inside out as he sped through the tunnels in the bowels of the earth at Gringotts.

Sirius gently held him up under his arms.

"You okay there Harry?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said shakily.

Once Sirius let go of him, Harry brushed the soot off of his jumper and trousers.

They stopped suddenly as Griphook stated that they'd arrived at Lily and James Potter's vault.

Harry's stomach swooped. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental was going to happen. It all seemed so surreal. He couldn't help but wonder why Snape was there though. He had always known that Snape and his dad were enemies. He never understood why, but he just knew this to be a fact. So, why then would his mum and dad have asked for Snape's presence today? It would have made much more sense if Remus were the one to be there standing by their side. He had been their good friend as well, but Harry couldn't fathom why on earth his parents would have wanted Snape to be there; a man who had loathed his father and barely knew his mother.

"Mr. Black, place the palm of your hand here," Griphook instructed, as he pointed at the outline of a hand sketched on the thick, metal door.

"Professor Snape, you next, and finally Mr. Potter."

Harry held his breath as they entered the vault. There were stacks of gold as high as the ceiling placed in piles around the vault. There was old furniture draped with cloths, boxes of china, yellowed papers and all sorts of odds and ends.

"Much of their belongings were moved here after their deaths," Griphook explained.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as the goblin led them to the back and pulled back the drape that covered, what looked to Harry like the Mirror of Erised.

Much to Harry's disappointment, his mum and dad didn't appear in the mirror when he stared at it.

"You must stand here," Griphook said gruffly as he made sure that Sirius, Severus and Harry were positioned in front of the mirror.

Harry looked at him questioningly as the goblin reached into his pocket with his long, thin clawed hand, and held out a large blue glistening stone. He placed it in Harry's hand.

Harry felt the stone grow warmer, as it began to glow and emit swirling prisms of blue light that bounced off the walls, and reflected brightly in the mirror.

Harry gasped, as an image began to form in the mirror before him.

"Mum… Dad," Harry whispered.

He reached out to touch the mirror longingly.

"Oh Harry, my love. You've grown into such a handsome young man," Lily said in a gentle voice, filled with pride.

"And Sirius, our one true and loyal friend. How good it is to see you again."

James nodded in agreement.

Sirius swallowed hard. They seemed like he could just reach out and touch them, yet he knew that it couldn't be real.

"And last but not least," Lily said softly, "Severus… my love."

Sirius' jaw dropped as he stared at his best friend's wife. He knew that Snape and Lily had dated at one time, but that was a long time ago, and he had always thought that James and Lily were so much in love.

Harry swung around to stare at Snape in shock. My love? How the bloody hell did Snape know his mother, and why was his mother calling Snape her love? In front of his father no less!

But no one was more shocked by Lily's proclamation than Severus himself.

"Lily," Severus whispered. "I don't understand. Are you a ghost?"

"No Severus. I'm not a ghost, but obviously I'm not real either. I'm in a place between the Veil and earth."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know Severus, and I forgive you. I know that you never meant for James and I to die. You couldn't possibly know that the prophecy had anything to do with myself or James. However…" she said sternly, "you knew that someone might be harmed, and you ran to your Master."

Severus flushed with shame. "I know. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"I'll be honest Severus, James and I struggled for a long time to find it in our hearts to forgive you."

"Then why did you? I've done nothing to deserve it," Severus said in a hollow voice.

"Wait…but how-?" Severus began.

"How did I know? I know everything my love."

Sirius turned to glower at Severus. "Wait, what does she mean Snape? What do you have to do with James and Lily's deaths?"

James stepped forward to stand by his wife's side.

"I'm sorry Padfoot, but that is something that must remain between Severus, I and Lily. We've come to terms with it, and so must you."

"What did you do to them Snape?"

"Please Sirius. You must let it go."

"Voldemort is the one that is responsible for our deaths," she emphasised.

"You know that Wormtail betrayed us," James added.

"Yes, and if I'd had my way, I would have crushed that rat with my boot," Sirius said vehemently.

"We know Sirius, but vengeance isn't the answer; that is what got us here in the first place,"

"Peter betrayed us and Severus foolishly allowed himself to be caught in a madman's evil intent, because of his selfishness and thoughtlessness, but Severus has paid a high price for his mistakes, and has struggled to make amends."

"Amends? You seriously think that I could possibly do anything to make up for what I've done?"

"I admit that I was very disappointed in you for a long time Severus-particularly for the way that you had treated Harry."

Severus had the grace to look ashamed. "I know. I just couldn't get past the fact that he looks so much like Po-him. I was…I mean-I was…"

"You were jealous."

"Leave me some dignity please Lily."

"Of course Severus. I apologise."

"These are not things that I wish to talk about in front of Black, your son, or Potter."

Lily nodded. "I understand Severus. You didn't give me the chance to say that although you treated Harry appallingly in the past, that I've noticed…we've both noticed, how much of an effort you've made to take care of him after my sister and her great big lump of a husband-" she choked on her words, "when they…"

Tears began to roll down Lily's cheeks. "I'm so sorry Harry. If I'd known that you'd get sent to Petunia-I should have prepared myself for this..."

James took her gently in his arms. "We didn't know Harry. We never thought that you wouldn't be placed with Sirius."

Harry's heart twisted with anguish. "It's alright Dad. How could you have known? Please don't cry Mom. It's not your fault."

"We should have made provisions in case Sirius wasn't able to fulfill his duty," Lily said apologetically.

"You're not mind readers. You couldn't have foreseen what the future held. You did the best you could by me. I know that."

"Harry is right," Sirius replied quickly. "No one could have imagined the events that would take place."

"Despite everything you've been through, you've turned out to be such a fine young man," Lily whispered. "We are so proud that you're our son."

James nodded. "After everything you've been through, you still find it in your heart to forgive us."

"But there's nothing to forgive," Harry countered.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Severus scowled. "Are we quite finished with this sappy melodrama? The past is the past. Regrets are a wasted emotion. Most emotions are a waste of energy anyway," he sneered.

Lily's lips curved into a small smile. "I see that you haven't changed Severus. It was a rare and special occasion that you allowed me to see into your soul."

"Perhaps Severus is right Lily. We haven't much time and we have a lot to explain," James said to his wife.

Lily nodded. "Very well-we'll get on with it then. "Did you bring the box Severus?" Lily asked softly.

"Yes." Severus held out the wooden box with hands that trembled.

Lily motioned with her slender hand. "Harry and Sirius step forward also please."

"There isn't any way to say this that will make it easier for any of you," she said regretfully, "so, here we go."

She looked towards James for help.

"Please hand the box to Harry, Severus," James said.

Snape narrowed his eyes at James suspiciously; he just wasn't ready to let go of his childhood grudges and he didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him, but he did as he was told.

"Before you open the box Harry, I just want you to know that you are my son in every way that matters, and that I died protecting you because of that love. I don't want you to ever think for a minute that I didn't love you as a father loves his son."

Harry tried to make sense of those cryptic words, as he lifted up the lid to the wooden box with trembling hands. Butterflies swirled in his stomach. Harry had a feeling that whatever was hidden in the contents of that box would change his life forever; part of him wanted to throw the box back at Snape and run in the other direction.

Harry had always had a keen sense of intuition and it had served him well in the past couple of years, and his intuition was telling him that he wasn't going to like the contents of this box very much.

Harry's green eyes clouded in confusion. He glanced up at Lily and James as he lifted various items from the box-a rattle, a lock of silky fine black baby hair, a tiny little gold ring with the initials H.S. engraved on it, a photo album…what the hell? A photo album with picture after picture of—of his mother and Snape!

Harry's stomach plummeted as he continued to come upon pictures of his mum and Snape; he licked his lips nervously. Things just weren't adding up! There weren't any pictures of James, and the pictures of his mother and Snape, suggested that they were more than just friends…much more than just friends.

As Harry plucked at corner of the next page in the photo album, his heart really twisted. His mother held a tiny baby with a shock of pitch black hair, and startling emerald eyes, in her arms.

Harry snapped shut the photo album quickly; he just didn't want to think of the implications.

Harry then noticed a clear crystal phial with green liquid inside.

"There is a Pensieve over there Harry."

"What? Wha-what is a Pensieve?" Harry asked nervously.

"In that bottle," James explained, "are memories."

"Memories? But how? How do you get memories in a bottle? I don't understand-and memories of what?"

James raked a hand through his messy hair; he looked at his wife for help.

"You can draw out your memories with a wand and put them into a bottle to view later," Lily explained gently.

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're joking?"

Lily smiled. "No sweetheart-I'm not. You need to take the lid off the bottle and pour the liquid in that Pensieve over there. Then you will be able to reach in and view the memories as though you were watching a movie."

Harry shook his head. Every day he was learning more about the wonderful world of Magic. It was truly amazing that you could view your memories like watching a film.

Harry was pulled back to reality by a sudden realisation. "What are these memories of that you want me to see?"

"I think it is better that you see for yourself," Lily said softly.

Harry began to take a step backwards, holding his hands up in the air.

"No! It's quite all right. You know-it's been nice seeing you and all, but I really think that it's time I leave," Harry said as he spun around and tried to pry open the door to the vault.

Firm, but gentle hands were placed on Harry's shoulders.

"C'mon kiddo," Sirius said gently. "We'll do it together.

"Go on, the three of you need to see this," Lily said.

The three of them stepped forward tentatively towards the Pensieve.

"Severus, why don't you do it, since you are the most familiar with using a Pensieve."

Severus nodded. He placed his hand into the box and gingerly picked up the phial of green liquid. A resounding pop echoed through the vault as he unplugged the stopper. With his long, potion-stained fingers, he carefully poured the liquid into the basin of the shiny, copper Pensieve.

Harry watched in fascination as the liquid began to shimmer and swirl like a whirlpool.

Severus motioned for Harry and Sirius to step closer to the Pensieve.

Harry's knees were knocking against each other as he moved closer. Suddenly, both Sirius and Snape on each side of him both grabbed an arm and firmly pulled him forward.

Harry's stomach somersaulted as he was sucked into the swirling liquid of the Pensieve. He felt as though his insides were turned inside out. Harry imagined that this was what it was like to be pulled into Aunt Petunia's vacuum cleaner.

Suddenly, the three of them landed with a jolt in what looked like a clean, but sparsely-furnished room. In one corner of the room, was a threadbare sofa, a large arm-chair that looked like it had springs poking out of the checkered material, and a single lantern illuminated the room. Obviously hand-made curtains hung on the windows.

Adding warmth to the otherwise dreary room, however, was a large vase was filled with colourful, sweet-smelling flowers. Flames gently licked the logs in the large brick fireplace, and the reflection flickered off the pale, yellowed walls.

Harry's heart beat against his ribcage as he took in the scene before him. His Mom was sitting in a large rocking chair, holding a tiny infant in her arms. She turned him around to face the camera that James was holding, a big grin plastered on his face.

"Say Quidditch Harry. That's it….smile for Daddy."

"C'mon Harry," Lily said. "Smile nice for Daddy James."

"That's it sweetheart. Your other daddy would be so proud of you," Lily whispered, as she brushed a stray tear that had rolled down her pale cheek.

"He can't be with you right now."

Harry's throat clogged with emotion. The scene continued as James snapped picture after picture of baby Harry. Normally Harry would be thrilled and a little sad to witness a rare moment from his childhood; a moment that the pictures he'd seen could never quite capture, but his mind was overwhelmed at the moment, with conflicting emotions.

Suddenly, the scene faded away and Harry, Sirius and Severus were pulled into the swirling liquid once again, to land firmly on the floor of the vault.

Harry could tell that he was not the only one whose emotions were thrown into turmoil from the scene inside the Pensieve; his green eyes were clouded in confusion. The voice inside Harry's mind was whispering to him that he knew perfectly well what that scene implied, but he chose to ignore the voice. His practical side however, knew that he could not remain in blissful ignorance forever.

Lily and James exchanged worried glances. Severus' pale face was even more pale if that was possible, and his dark eyes smouldered with emotion; a rare occurrence for the normally composed Potion Master. Sirius' face was the colour of sour milk and his blue eyes crinkled in confusion. It was Harry's agonised expression however that had them the most concerned. The poor child looked as though he would lose his breakfast soon, and Lily and James began to regret putting their son through this ordeal.

"Does this mean…what does this mean? Harry asked in a barely audible whisper.

"I think that you know what it means sweetheart," Lily said gently. "In the box, there is something that you should see—that will explain everything."

Harry bent down and retrieved the box, where Snape had placed it on the floor, when they'd gone into the Pensieve, and pulled out a rolled-up scroll. Harry unfurled the aging parchment, and his heart skipped a beat at the words that leapt out at him.

Harry James Severus Snape,

Son of Severus Tobias Snape and Lily Anne Evans.

"No! I don't believe this. James is my father. Everyone says how much I look like him and—"

But a little voice in the back of Harry's mind said that he "didn't" look so much like James anymore. Hadn't everyone been saying how much he'd changed lately? Hadn't he noticed how his chin seemed a little pointier, the shape of his eyes not so round, his cheek bones a little sharper, his hair…a little sleeker and more manageable?"

Severus didn't know what compelled him, but he rushed forward and yanked the parchment from Harry's hands.

His skin felt too tight for his body. His dark eyes filled with anguish.

"Lily? I don't understand. Explain this!" Severus said in a croaky voice.

Lily sighed. "I'm sorry Severus. I always meant that you would know one day. I never meant to go to the grave without you knowing your son, but you have to believe that I did what I thought was best for you and for Harry. I never imagined…"

Sirius paled. No, it couldn't be. He leant forward and pried the parchment from Snape's fingers. His blue eyes widened as they scanned the page.

"James…Lily…" he gasped. "How could you? How could you have kept this from me? I thought that I was your best friend," Sirius said, a hurt look in his eyes.

James raked his hand through his dark hair, a habit that had followed him to the grave. "I'm sorry Padfoot. There were so many extenuating circumstances; the bad blood that existed between you and Severus, and Severus' involvement with Voldemort. It was far too dangerous for anyone—even for you Padfoot, to be privy to this information. Lily and I thought it best to hide this until after the war, or even possibly longer. "

"This is crazy," Harry croaked. "He can't be my father. Tell me this is a joke. Yeah, that's it." He pinched himself. "It's all a crazy dream…a nightmare- yeah that's it, and I'm going to wake up soon."

"That's enough Potter!" Snape bellowed. "You're hysterical."

"Leave my Godson alone Snape," Sirius growled. "He's had a shock."

Harry paled. "Potter? Oh my God, I'm not a Potter anymore. I'm a Snape. Harry Snape. No!"

Harry crumpled to the ground, and he wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Please, Mom…Dad," Harry whispered, tears tugging at the corner of his eyes. "Tell me this isn't true."

"Oh Harry darling, we never meant to hurt you, but you must give your father a chance."

"Don't call him that!" Harry shrieked. "He's not my father. He'll never be my father."

He looked at James through watery eyes. "You're my father. You'll always be my father."

"Of course I am Harry. I'll always be your father too, but I can't be there for you like Severus can."

Severus shook his head. "This is insanity. I can't be a father." He raked his hand through his greasy hair.

Severus wouldn't admit it, but Harry's words had hurt. His son, as strange as the concept was. This boy, whom he had loathed from the minute that he was born, was his son. Now, he had to contend not only with the fact that the boy that he'd belittled and harassed for the past two years, was his own flesh and blood, but that he'd made it impossible for them to have a normal, father-son relationship. It didn't matter that he had begun to see Potter in a different light. Oh Merlin, "Potter" was not even a Potter at all- he was a Snape! The boy was a part of him and Lily and a product of the love that they had once shared… before he'd ruined it all.

Now, Severus felt the heavy weight of guilt press down upon him. He had tried very hard recently to treat the boy better, but he knew that he could never make up for the way that he'd treated him since he'd started at Hogwarts. Severus accepted his part of the responsibility for his treatment of his son, but if he'd only known that the boy was his son, he'd never have treated him so badly. Damn! Where the hell did Lily and Potter get off keeping this from him? A little voice whispered to him that it should not have made any difference in how he'd treated Harry-he told that little voice to shut up.

"How could you do this to me? Spring this upon me after almost fourteen years."

"I know that this is a shock Severus, but you can do this, and you don't have to do it alone," Lily said softly.

"Of course I have to do it alone. Who the hell is going to give me parenting advice? Him?" he scoffed, as he pointed to Sirius.

Lily exchanged a nervous glance with James.

"And I haven't exactly had the best role models," he continued, not noticing that Lily and James had gone silent. "Hell Lily. I'm not a patient man. I'm not a father. I mean...I don't know how to be a father," he said, a helpless feeling pressing down upon himself—a feeling that he was not familiar with.

"But you have been acting as a father-figure to Harry for months now," Lily argued. "You've done more for Harry in the past few months, than Petunia and Vernon have ever done for him."

James nodded. "We've been watching you and how you've been caring for Harry."

"Just where do I fit into all this?" Sirius asked.

James raised his dark eyebrows. "Have your feelings for Harry changed because he's not my biological son?"

Harry looked at Sirius, doubt clouding his green eyes.

"Of course not," Sirius said indignantly.

"I'd understand if you didn't want to be my Godfather anymore," Harry said quietly.

"You can't rid of me that easily."

"I believe as usual, we have veered away from the subject," Severus sneered. "Answer the question Potter. How does he fit into all this?"

"Before we explain, we need both your solemn promises that you'll hear us out and not jump down each other's throats," Lily said, giving them each a stern look.

"Honestly, you both have so many redeeming qualities and so many lessons that you can teach Harry, and you each have your strengths and weaknesses," Lily began. "James and I had a hard time deciding who best should bring up Harry-"

"You had a hard time deciding who should bring up my son?" Severus sputtered indignantly.

"You lost your right to decide what is best for our son Severus, the day that you pledged your loyalty to that madman," Lily said furiously.

Severus paled. Lily was right of course. It was his own fault that his own son despised him and he had no one to blame but himself if he missed the best years of his son's life because of his own stupid mistakes and bad decisions. But still—to have Potter make decisions that concerned his son, was humiliating and a hard pill to swallow.

"Of course, before Sirius was wrongly accused of betraying us, the decision who would raise Harry should James and I not be able to, was as clear as crystal."

Lily turned to look at Sirius. "You had always been loyal, brave, gentle and kind and the sort of role model that we would have been proud to have raised our son," she said gently. "Unfortunately of course, we had never anticipated that Peter would betray us, or that you would have to endure twelve years in Azkaban," she said sadly.

"Everything went to hell-in-a-hand basket—all our carefully laid-out plans went awry," James said bitterly. "Harry was sent to live with tho—those animals," he said angrily, as he clenched his fists tightly. "Nothing at all went according to plan."

Lily blinked away the tears. "If this box had been found even just a year ago, the outcome might have been quite different. Sirius was in no position to care for Harry. You Severus were not ready yet to put aside your bitterness and quest for vengeance against James."

"In the course of this past year however, you Sirius have been exonerated and you Severus have taken quite a leap towards letting go of the past. You still have some baggage to let go of, but I believe that you are finally worthy of being a father to Harry."

"Lily, I-"

"Please let me finish Severus."

Severus nodded.

"I won't lie—to either one of you. You have spent twelve years in Azkaban Sirius. That has got to change a man. You will need to work especially hard to overcome the traumatic effects that those years spent in the bowels of hell have caused—don't deny it," James said sternly. "I know about the nightmares."

Sirius lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

"There is no shame in having nightmares-is there Severus?" James said, as he looked pointedly at Severus.

Severus paled. It was bad enough that Potter knew about the nightmares that plagued him nightly, but to have his weaknesses laid out so plainly in front of Black and his newly- discovered son, was more than he could bear.

"If this—situation is going to work, you two will have to get over your petty grudges and constantly trying to show each other up and prove who the better man is," James said sternly.

"What situation are you referring to Potter?" Severus asked in a silky voice. The back of his neck was prickling and his years of serving the Dark Lord warned him that he was being managed, and he did not appreciate that at all—especially by the likes of Potter.

Unbeknownst to Severus, Sirius was having similar thoughts; his own keen sense of intuition was on high alert. Why did he get the feeling that his best friends were plotting something that he was probably not going to like?

Sirius' heart softened though as his eyes fell on his Godson, who looked so small and lost. Harry needed him and-damn, Harry needed Snape too, as much as he'd like to deny it.

"Lily and I have this wonderful, big house in the countryside that has a large back garden. It's the perfect place to raise a child."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Potter, will you bloody well get to the point," he snapped.

"Fine. Lily and I want you to raise Harry together. We feel that you both have qualities that complement each other and you will balance out the other's strengths and weaknesses. You have strength Snape, and are a solid, stable influence in Harry's life, but you can also be over-bearing and overly harsh. You keep your feelings close to your heart and need to learn to let go a bit. Sirius, on the other hand, you are playful, kind, easy-going and affectionate, but your years in Azkaban have taken their toll on you, and you need time to heal and be able to enjoy life again."

"What James is trying to say Sirius and Severus, is that Harry needs both of you, and not just as a fleeting influence in his life. He needs your strength and stable influence in his life Severus, and your love, kindness and generosity Sirius. We feel that with two strong parental figures in his life, Harry will prosper and grow to adulthood with all the tools that he needs."

Severus' eyes flashed. "I am his parent. Not Black."

"We realise that Severus, but you said yourself that you are out of your depth here. You have done a fine job with Harry these past few weeks, but Harry will require more guidance and his needs will grow as he gets older and being a single parent is never an easy task. Besides, we want Sirius, I want Sirius, to be a part of Harry's life and not just as a favourite uncle who comes to visit occasionally, I want him to play a major role in Harry's life," Lily said softly.

"We have veered from our purpose here, and Lily and I must leave soon," James said regretfully.

Harry's eyes welled up with tears. "No please don't go," he pleaded.

"Harry, James and I will always be with you in here," Lily said gently, as she placed her hand over her heart, "but as painful as it is, we must leave. We were only granted a short time with you to make sure that you were properly taken care of and tie up loose ends. We don't belong here anymore sweetheart. You belong with your father and Sirius now."

"You can't seriously expect both of us to magically erase all of our years of animosity just because you wish it so?" Severus sneered.

"If you truly love me Severus, you will make an effort to get along with Sirius," Lily said firmly.

"Fine. I'll try," Severus grudgingly agreed out loud. Secretly though, he thought to himself, that there was no bloody way he was ever going to allow Black to dictate to him how he should raise his own son; it would be a cold day in hell before that would happen.

As a matter of fact, as the boy's true father, he had every right to appoint his own choice of Godfather. He was under no legal obligation whatsoever to keep Black's name on that document. On the other hand, he supposed that he did owe Lily something, and the boy was fond of Black—why that was he couldn't fathom, but Severus supposed that it was time to put someone else's needs before his own. He had to try for Lily's sake—for his son's sake. That did not mean though that Black would have any actual authority over his son. For that matter, there was no way in hell that his son would continue to carry the name of his other long-time nemesis. No, as soon as he had the boy's birth certificate and paternity tests in hand, Severus planned on marching down to the Ministry and claim his son in every sense of the word.

Lily sighed. "I need you to do more than try. Take a look in the box Severus."

At the bottom of the box, there was yet another rolled-up yellowed scroll.

"Look at it," Lily prodded.

Severus unrolled the parchment and snapped his head up quickly; his obsidian eyes widened.

"You have got to be joking."

Sirius yanked the parchment out of Severus' hand.

His blue eyes widened in disbelief.

Then he bent over in laughter.

"You had me going there Prongs. You haven't lost your talent for always pulling the perfect prank."

"This is no prank Sirius. Lily and I are perfectly serious."

Severus looked at him incredulously. "There is no bloody way in hell that I'm sharing a living space with Black and-and what? Live in a big house with a white-picket fence and pretend that we are the bloody perfect family, and live happily ever after? You have got to be out of your bloody mind Potter!"