The next day started oddly. The papers carried news of coordinated Death Eater attacks on some mixed families in Muggle London, near the Leaky Cauldron. Again, it involved Dementors working with wizards, but in some cases the attacking wizards seemed more affected than the chosen victims. Two of the five attacks had been countered without fatalities, and only one had achieved a full slaughter. Despite those deaths, no one was talking about that, however; they were all whispering about the sketchy reports of a foiled werewolf attack at Hogwarts. The Daily Prophet speculated that the werewolf professor may have been involved. People leaned close to each other over cooling food, and cast frequent glances up at the empty seat at the staff table. Harry saw one first-year in tears.

When most of the students had gathered in the great hall, Dumbledore stood. The room fell silent.

"You have no doubt read the rumors of werewolf attacks at Hogwarts."

A buzz of conversation started and died. People listened with painful intensity.

"The rumors are, in part, true." When the brief tumult of gasps and exclamations had died down, the headmaster resumed. "There were several werewolves, not in the school, but on the grounds. A foolhardy student ventured outside --" Harry thought it was most unfair how many eyes flicked to him, at those words -- "and another student, and two professors, followed to rescue him. The student is safe, and uninfected, although he is currently under Madam Pomfrey's care, recuperating from other effects of the experience."

That provoked more murmurs. Harry guessed people were trying to work out who -- other than him, apparently -- might have done such a thing.

"On his behalf, a hundred points from Gryffindor." The headmaster's tone was grim. At the sight of the change in the tallies, the Gryffindors exclaimed angrily, and the Slytherins jeered. Harry saw smiles at the Ravenclaw table as students bent towards each other to whisper.

"On behalf of Harry Potter, fifty points from Gryffindor for being reckless enough to follow --" Harry choked with indignation -- "fifty points from Gryffindor for not telling myself or his Head of House as soon as he realized someone was in danger, and a hundred points to Gryffindor for applying his lessons and flying skills to rescue all involved ... without injury to himself, for once."

Stones flew down and up in the hourglasses in a small, clattering storm. The Gryffindors didn't know whether to complain or cheer, but Harry felt better. Gryffindor was a hundred points down, total, but he himself had earned what he had lost, so Colin would be the one blamed -- and he could not help feeling that Colin deserved it. He was seriously considering cornering Colin and thrashing him, himself.

"I wish to note that Mr. Potter's efforts were a marvelous application of his studies. However, had he or his friends come to me immediately upon realizing one of their classmates had ventured outside -- rather than trying to find him themselves -- the matter might have been resolved with less harm and far less risk. The time has come to admit that we are at war. Please share relevant information with the people who can help you, or we are all doomed."

The room was silent. Harry felt his face heat.

"On one point, the rumors are entirely mistaken. Professor Lupin was involved, but as a rescuer, not an attacker. It was his unfaltering imposition of his own body between the attackers and the attacked, at great peril to his own life, that allowed the first student and his fellow professor -- who wishes to remain anonymous -- to escape, uninfected."

But Severus always wanted to be appreciated, Harry thought, wondering why Severus wished to remain anonymous. He would be hailed as a hero for this! The papers would.... oh. It would betray his loyalties to Voldemort. And the hearing is still five days away. He can't. Harry felt oddly guilty.

"Professor Lupin was badly wounded, but his werewolf form recovers quickly. I do not anticipate more than an extra day of absence from his classes."

"Now, you are all to go to your houses and stay there until dinner time. A special buffet luncheon will be served in your common rooms. This is not a punishment, but a means to protect you from the invasion of reporters who will arrive here shortly. I promise you will have your usual freedoms back after dinner."

"I don't know what he's being so coy about," Ron complained, as they headed for the door. "We all know it was Colin."

"All Gryffindor knows."

"The rest of the school will know by the end of the day." Ron shot Harry a look. "You really have no idea how he's doing?"

"He was unconscious last I saw, and you know I can't talk about it."

"Maybe if we can sneak off--" Ron silenced abruptly.

"There will be no 'sneaking' today, Mr. Weasley."

The precise voice stopped Ron in his tracks. He scrunched his eyes closed. Harry stopped as well and waited for Professor McGonagall to step up beside him. The students coming up the stairs behind her hesitated, then continued to either side.

"Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning, Mr. Potter." McGonagall nodded politely. "I am afraid there is an exception for you. We are expected at Headmaster Dumbledore's office in a few minutes."

"That's not fair!" Ron exclaimed. "He rescued Colin from werewolves! It's bad enough he didn't gain points; he can't get in trouble!"

"I did not say he was in trouble, Mr. Weasley, I said he was expected in the headmaster's office. Please try to show some restraint."

"Be quiet about it, Ron," Harry said. "This is dangerous."

McGonagall hesitated, but then nodded. "I have been given that impression." She started up the stairs. "Come along, Mr. Potter. We must not keep the headmaster waiting."

When they entered the office, they found Severus already there, standing by the fireplace. He glanced at them, then looked away again, into the flames. Harry wasn't sure whether or not to approach him, but the chairs were all on the other side of the room. As a compromise, he walked over to Fawkes, who gave him a soft, cooed greeting. It wasn't until he was stroking the brilliant feathers that Harry noticed the room's other occupant -- Remus Lupin, slumped in a chair and possibly asleep. The post-moon pallor of his drawn face was emphasized by his garments -- uncharacteristically, he was dressed in plain black robes. Harry wondered if they were borrowed, and Lupin had yet to get back to his own rooms. Considering his obvious exhaustion, it did not seem unlikely.

Harry was just wondering, again, whether to attempt to speak to his father with Professor McGonagall present, when the door opened, admitting Dumbledore and Hagrid. The room suddenly seemed much more crowded.

"Please have a seat, Rubeus," Dumbledore said. "The rest of you may arrange yourselves as you are most comfortable. Remus? Are you with us?"

"Here," came a quiet voice. The eyes did not open.

Dumbledore frowned, but nodded. "Good. Now, in the spirit of taking my own advice, I believe it is time we shared some information. I, also, would have done better to do so before last night. Hagrid, if you could update the others on the werewolves, please?"

Hagrid twitched. He seemed to want to rise. Eventually, he lowered his head and said:

"Well, we found 'em alrigh', righ' where Harry'd said they'd be. There were two dead o' wounds, another dead fer no reason I could see, and two Stupefied." Hagrid cleared his throat and glanced at Severus. "We destroyed the knife -- sorry, Professor."

Severus waved a hand in dismissal. "For the best. You left no identifiable fragments, I hope."

"Not a one."

"Good."

Hagrid squirmed. "We revived th' others. I tried to Obliviate the white one, and he-- I think he was afraid o' us--"

McGonagall snorted. "It attacked him. I killed it."

Harry tensed at McGonagall's cool words. "Couldn't you have--"

"I wish so, Mr. Potter. But better that than to give it -- sorry, him -- to the authorities." Professor McGonagall spoke steadily, but her voice had the tightness that Harry knew meant that she was unhappy with her options.

"The Departmen' fer the Control o' Magical Creatures...." Hagrid's voice caught. His face was now completely hidden behind his shaggy hair.

Remus cleared his throat. The soft, rough sound made Harry jump. "The official punishment is the Kiss." They had to listen closely to hear the tired voice. "Without Dementors, the department has been ... improvising."

Harry shuddered. Hagrid blew his nose and started again.

"Then we ha' the brown one. Harry ha' said she'd helped Remus."

"When nip came to rend," Remus said dryly. His voice was stronger, but his eyes remained closed.

"Well ... We le' tha' one go--"

"You what?" Remus's yelp was loud enough to be audible under Severus's enraged shriek of the same words.

"The wolf ran, and Hagrid got in my way," McGonagall said precisely. She sighed. "I know this increases your risk, Severus. However, we have been discussing withdrawing you for several months, and the difference between combat and cold-blooded murder--"

"Good lord." Remus had his eyes open now, but didn't seem to see any of them. "Selena. The little fool may well go to Randolph to argue attack limits--"

"If Voldemort discovers that I fought his agents--!"

"Then perhaps it is time to retire you!"

Dumbledore turned from the window. Everyone else fell silent. His expression was sad as he peered at each of them over his spectacles. "Unfortunately, I cannot withdraw Severus until after the Death Eater initiations at Halloween." His voice and demeanor were mild, but Harry could tell his decision would not be altered. "If we must watch them from the outside, we need to know whom we should be watching."

"We can figure it out!" Harry shouted.

"Harry," Severus spoke quietly now. "It is not your decision. You do not have the experience to--"

"You'll die!" Harry whirled on him. "Every time I get anyone, they die!"

"Harry. I have survived seven years of Voldemort's service; I should be able to manage another six days."

"Not if she tells!"

Harry looked desperately towards Remus. The werewolf's face was hidden behind his hands, but Harry could see the wet glint of tears between his fingers.

"And then, of course," Dumbledore said mildly, "Harry is also endangered, under the circumstances."

"Don' know what this has t'do with Harry," Hagrid protested.

Dumbledore looked over and met Harry's eyes. Harry saw his shoulders lift and fall in a sigh. "Perhaps you should go stand next to Severus, Harry."

Harry, quieting, nodded. From Dumbledore's reference to sharing information, he had been expecting that this was coming. He took four steady steps to join Severus. His father had gone even paler than usual, and his face was expressionless. Harry gave him an encouraging little half-smile, then turned back to the others. He straightened, lifted his chin and looked back at them in challenge. There was a moment of silence.

"Dear Merlin, Albus!" McGonagall was staring at Harry in shocked horror. "What have you done to James Potter's son?"

"I'm afraid, Minerva," Severus said dryly, his hand coming to Harry's shoulder, "that it is actually a matter of 'what did James Potter do to my son." His grip was tight, but Harry would not for his life had shown that it hurt, and risked losing the contact altogether. He stood carefully motionless.

McGonagall was still spluttering incoherently when Dumbledore took over.

"Do you recall, Minerva, how we believed, for a few months in 1979, that Severus had died?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"Before that time, he asked for Lily to receive an Heir Spell, and James consented."

"Then.... but...." McGonagall had resumed staring, but still seemed unable to string two words together.

"Lily and James managed to enhance the Paternity Charm to last until he was sixteen. They brought in the law of squares, I expect, and--"

"Hang on, here!" Hagrid had sat bolt upright. "Are yeh sayin' that Harry is Snape's son?"

"Correct. James and Lily both sent letters to Harry's sixteenth birthday, as they had told no one--"

"Do we know those are genuine, Albus?"

Severus's grip dug in still more, and Harry tensed. The touch lightened, but remained; Harry regretted his earlier stoicism. "We have the Herem contract."

Remus let out a little laugh, or possibly a sob. "Not to mention James's scent all over the parchment. Oh god."

McGonagall studied Harry for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Does this affect the prophecy?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. It says 'to,' not 'of.' The parents he was born to have not changed."

"Not to mention that Severus has defied Voldemort a good deal more than three times!" Harry burst out angrily.

Dumbledore shook his head, but with the first genuine smile Harry had seen on him that day. "The structure implies defiance as a couple. Severus defied Voldemort with Lily only once, I believe -- leaving us you."

McGonagall sniffed. "As if a second Potter was not enough trouble -- now I am expected to teach a second Snape?"

Harry laughed with relief at the implied acceptance. "Well, I expect I'll keep the name anyway. I need something of his -- besides my Patronus -- and Severus has never had a good thing to say about his father." Harry glanced up, looking for confirmation that was still right, and Severus nodded slightly. For all that, Harry thought he did not look pleased. "That is all right, Father?"

"Fine." Severus grimaced. "In fact, I tend to agree."

"You're upset."

"Perhaps we should worry about the werewolf. Remus, you suspect --" Severus reddened. Harry suspected he had not intended to use Remus's given name. He swallowed and continued. "-- suspect that she will return to Randolph and attempt to conceal her betrayal?"

"God no!" Remus rubbed his forehead. "No, Selena does things all the way. If she has given up on the movement, she will either come to me, or try to hide. If she hasn't, she will return and tell him what she did and why." His face tensed yet more. "And he will kill her, of course, so she dies without saving you."

The long silence that followed was broken by McGonagall clearing her throat.

"Perhaps ... will Liber -- Randolph -- think to question her about the people involved?"

Remus took several deep breaths. Harry tried to imagine postulating the circumstances of the death of someone he loved, and he felt a pang of sympathy.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. He is capricious. And she may not be able to tell him anything useful." His brow furrowed. "Severus, you saw her at one gathering only, correct?"

"Yes."

"Were you close to her, or had you recently been where she stood? She'd be highly unlikely to recognize you by sight, as a wolf -- the problem is whether or not she would recognize your scent."

The hand finally dropped from Harry's shoulder. Severus began to pace.

"I did not stand near her. She may have caught my scent in the area, however, as I was there before the delegation arrived. That would tell her only that the person you protected had also been with the Dark Lord, but that would be enough, if she notices -- there is only one staff member here who might be in both places."

"She also knows that I loved you," Remus said quietly. "Sorry -- drunken confessions one Christmas Eve when she was nineteen. She may theorize about which Hogwarts staff member I would protect with such fury."

"Just how well do you know this girl?" Severus demanded.

"I took her in as a child. Her family threw her out when she was bitten. She was thirteen years old, and out on the street."

There was another awkward pause. When Severus spoke, his voice was harsh.

"And she rejects us back."

"I tried--"

"Don't worry, Remus. We all learn to be predators, in time."

"I'm not," Remus said plaintively. "I'm not." And he hid his face in the back of the chair and stayed that way, his body moving with quick, rough breaths. Harry went over and laid a hand on his back.

"Moony." He couldn't think of anything to say, but that seemed to be enough. The heaves of breath became slower and more shallow.

"I didn't mean you," Severus tried awkwardly. Harry noticed that McGonagall was watching him with mingled disbelief and pleasure.

"I apologize for keeping you here, Remus," Dumbledore said. "I know you need time to recover, but we needed your information. After the meeting, you can floo back--"

"He cannot," Severus interrupted. "He disconnects from the floo network for the full moon -- that's why he hasn't been back yet."

Harry, remembering how Remus had rubbed little circles on his back when he was crying, tried to do the same. "Shh."

"We will need to wait and see if she contacts you," Dumbledore continued, as if Remus were sitting up in his chair, listening carefully, and nodding. "Fortunately, it sounds like the short-term risk is not too great. You see, Minerva, the other reason we cannot withdraw Severus now is that we cannot afford to tip our hand to Voldemort in advance of the hearing."

Hagrid and Professor McGonagall were dismissed soon after, but Dumbledore kept Harry to discuss his conduct. Harry thought it was most unfair for them to go at him three-on-one. Severus was largely silent, but his nod at Remus's faint "you promised me," worse than all the rest of it. When Harry left Dumbledore's office, it was all he could do not to slam the door, and he was completely unprepared to find Hagrid waiting for him.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeh alrigh' wi'this?"

"They're taking my broom!" Harry fumed. "They're giving it to Hooch, and I can only have it for games and scheduled practices!"

Hagrid waved that aside. "I mean, he treatin' yeh alrigh'?"

Harry caught himself on the edge of a rant. "Oh. Yes, fine."

"Las' month, yeh seemed...." Hagrid trailed off uncertainly. Harry had to think a moment to remember last month -- September seemed so long ago!

"Oh, that. That was from trying not to tell Ron and Hermione." Harry looked around the small space at the top of the spiral stairs. "I know we're still in the headmaster's rooms, but I think -- we shouldn't talk about this here, not even vaguely. But other than the secrecy, I'm fine."

When Harry got back to the common room, he was immediately descended upon by at least a dozen students who wanted to know what had happened to Colin. Harry couldn't see why they cared.

"I don't know."

"Well, you must know something!"

"How was he when you found him?"

"I don't know," Harry repeated, with increasing vehemence. "He wasn't bitten, but he'd fallen and was unconscious by the time we got back."

Lavender burst into tears.

"It's all my fault!"

Harry gave a disgusted snort. "Believe me -- Colin was a reckless idiot long before he decided he fancied you."

"Harry!" Lavender's eyes were wide. "How can you say that? He adores you!"

"Well that's not my problem!"

"You're so cruel!"

"You don't mind putting him down when he's bothering you, do you? But when he nearly gets a friend of mine killed, I'm supposed to suck it up?"

"Who did he nearly get killed?" Dean asked.

"Remus! And other people did die."

"I thought everyone was fine!"

"Werewolves in the attack died. There were two dead when I got there."

"But they're werewolves," someone objected.

"So is Remus, remember?" Harry heard the edge of rage creeping into his voice. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Just like Occlumency. Let it go for now. When he opened them, Parvati was staring at him.

"What?" he snarled. He tried to keep his lip from curling in contempt, but he felt the light pull.

"You look really creepy, sometimes, Harry."

"Thank you."

A tug at his elbow turned out to be Hermione.

"Come with me, Harry."

Harry, recognizing the request as a rescue, went with her to the corner. Hermione drove off anyone who approached with her best prefect glare.

"I think you had better stay up in your room as much as possible. Even if you don't tell them anything...."

Harry sighed. He suspected he could complete the thought. You look too much like him when you're angry. "You're probably right."

"When they let us out of here, we'll go to your lounge."

Harry grinned. Trust Hermione to understand that he needed to talk to her. "Okay."

"If I get a chance, I'll ask McGonagall if we can go earlier. For now, stay up in your dormitory."

"I don't believe Lavender!"

"Neither do I. She thinks it's romantic." Hermione made a face. "A boy nearly got himself killed for me ... Oooo!"

"Hey, I nearly got killed for you in our first year. So did Ron."

"But that was useful!"

"The essential difference between Colin's recklessness and mine, I think." Harry tried to smile at her. "Okay, I'll go up to my room and sulk where no one can see me."

Dean came up a while later, carrying a sword that usually hung above the fireplace. "Is now good? You know, for that outfit with the pirate shirt?"

"Um...." Harry had been planning to put Dean off until after the hearing. On the other hand, he could hardly claim he was too busy -- he'd been lying on his back in bed, staring up at the canopy. "I'm not sure...."

"Oh, come on!"

Harry had a sudden thought. "Well, the trousers -- they're kind of supposed to surprise people. Could you not show the sketch to anyone -- or talk about it -- until after the ball?"

"Oh, I knew that! Of course not." Dean laid the sword gingerly on his bed. "Come on, now. Get changed."

Harry thought he had handled the matter neatly. A few minutes later, he was standing by the narrow window he had flown out of the night before. The breeze brushed the thin fabric of the shirt into his side and fluttered the cuffs across his hands. He felt the coolness of air where the lacings of the trouser legs left his skin exposed.

Dean had originally wanted him to hold the sword out, but had listened to reason when Harry said it was too heavy to keep up for any length of time, so now the point touched the ground, as if Harry were just resting it there for a moment. Dean had him face slightly away, then twist back. The sword was rearranged again. After a moment, Dean nodded, then, to Harry's surprise, reached for his glasses.

Harry still had both hands on the hilt of the massive sword, so Dean's quick grab was successful.

"Hey!" Harry stepped back, ruining the careful pose.

"Just your glasses, Harry."

"But ...!"

"You can put them on if anyone comes in, all right?" Dean rearranged Harry, who decided making a fuss would be as suspicious as his appearance. When Harry was posed again, Dean nodded and looked him over. It was only then that he frowned studiously at Harry's face.

"You look...."

"I look what?"

Dean shrugged. "Different. I can't pin it down, yet." His frowned deepened. "It's not just the glasses, either -- that would be your eyes, or the sides of your face. This is ... your chin used to be pointier." He shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense! You haven't put on weight."

Harry carefully shifted the sword to one hand and sent a quick silencing charm at the door. "Dean, I would really appreciate if you --"

"Oh my god!" Dean, wide-eyed, grinned at him, then ran back to his bed. "It's ... just hold there a minute." He did a very rapid sketch, and came back with a cartoon drawing of Harry. "You look like Snape, see?" He sketched in a large, curved nose, and some string holding it on. "You'd just need the lines here --" some quick strokes added the marks of Snape's habitual scowl, "-- and here." Dean stopped, frowning, mid-way through adding lines around one eye. "No, that's wrong -- your eyes are completely the wrong shape. The rest of it works, though!"

A hint of uncertainly crossed his face as he met Harry's eyes.

"Thank you," Harry said dryly. He couldn't help following it with a Snape sneer -- it wasn't until Dean twitched back that he realized he had.

"So ..." Dean's attention shifted between Harry and the paper. "You, um ... don't look like the bloke I've shared a room with for the last five years, but I'm sure you are. What's up? Is it a scheme of some sort, or did something go wrong?"

"Neither, really."

"So?"

Harry took a long breath. "How about I tell you tonight, when we can go to the Room of Requirement? I need to talk to Ron and Hermione there, anyway."

Dean chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

"And in the meantime, you don't show anyone that picture, and you don't talk to anyone about my appearance."

Dean shrugged. "All right. Harry, look -- is this prank important, or war important?"

"War important."

"Ah." Dean reached over and touched the sword, his hand resting on the blade just below the crossguard. "On my honor as a Gryffindor and a DA member, then."

Harry let out a breath. "Thanks."

Dean grinned. "Though I really think you should try going to the ball as Snape -- it would be hilarious!"

"Until someone died, yeah."

Dean shifted back uncertainly. "Really?"

"Really. Please keep quiet."

"I will." Dean backed away. "Let's do this sketch, then."

After dinner, as promised, they were given their freedom until lights-out. Harry took Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Dean directly to the Room of Requirement. The room looked more like the first bubble lounge than it had in a while -- Harry wondered if he needed the low lights to explain matters to Dean.

Dean had some trouble believing that Snape had produced a child with a Muggle-born witch, at least in any non-violent manner.

"But he hates Muggle-borns!"

"Not that much, really." Harry looked desperately at Hermione, then away. "And it's varied a lot...."

I spoke to him recently," Hermione volunteered. Ron looked up in surprise. "My impression is that he is terrified of Muggle-born witches and wizards."

Harry frowned. "In ways. You more than most, though, Hermione --"

"Because I was seeing you?" Hermione guessed, her voice bitter.

"'Cause you remind him of m'Mum," Harry muttered. Hermione stared at him. He continued quickly. "He doesn't ... He doesn't think you're pretty, at all; it's not that. Just that you're brilliant and courageous and quick, and try to protect people.... He's afraid he'll admire you, I think."

Hermione huffed with indignation. "Well, he certainly fooled me!"

Harry shrugged. He had probably said too much already.

"So, this only needs to be a secret until November first, right?" Dean asked. "Whenever the hearing starts?"

"Right."

"What do you do then?"

Harry shrugged. "Just try to protect him from Voldemort, I suppose."

"No, I mean what do you do about Gryffindor? I mean, I trust you. I decided last year that I would trust you, no matter what people said. But Snape! People will go off on it as if you're different, somehow."

Harry shrugged. "There are always some people who distrust me for some stupid reason. I refuse to worry about it."

"So what did you need us here for?" Ron was stretched out on the far couch, much as he had lain the night of the bubbles. "Moral support? Bodyguards?"

"No, I needed to tell you about the werewolves."

Ron sat up and swung his feet to the ground. "All right!"

Harry realized that he couldn't tell Dean, who didn't know Severus was a spy.

"Dean, could you go? This is more private stuff. War-private, with things I can't tell you." He smiled apologetically at Dean. " You'll understand it all by this time next week."

Dean shrugged. "I suppose I can be patient." He hesitated. "Should I go back, or just wait outside?"

"Wait outside," Harry answered. "This will only take a moment."

When the door was closed, and Harry had renewed the wards, he turned to Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

"Look, the thing is that my d- father -- Professor Snape, whatever -- was involved. Lord Tom mustn't know he fought the werewolves -- he should have helped them, right?"

"Oh!" Ron said. "Right. I didn't know he was involved, though."

Hermione frowned. "I didn't tell, Harry."

"Oh." Harry considered that. "Well, probably better that he knows than having him speculate." He looked at Ron. "So don't talk about it, all right? And don't ask me in front of people."

"All right."

"Shall we let Dean back in then?"

"Can I tell you a bit about Shadow, first?" Hermione asked. "Or Ginny, could you take Dean back to Gryffindor soon?"

"Oh, tell us now!" Ginny leaned forward. "Dean can wait a minute, and I want to hear, too!"

Harry was curious too. "Are you understanding more of it, now? Can you find him reliably?"

"I can remember words, now! And yes. Remember how Parkinson was playing with him because Malfoy hated it?"

"Shadow bit him?" Ron guessed hopefully. Harry slapped him lightly on the arm.

"No, better. He's still annoyed, but trying to ignore it. Parkinson's feeding Shadow, though, so he's practically living in the Slytherin common room. It couldn't be more perfect for spying!"

"Do they talk about anything important, there?"

"Well...." Hermione hesitated. "Not directly. I'm getting a feel for Slytherin alliances, though -- they're more complicated then a thought. Parkinson isn't just randomly taunting -- she's actually feuding with Malfoy."

"Over what?" Ron asked.

"She said he's gone soft on Muggles and mixed-bloods -- Harry comes up a lot. She spent a while last night telling Goyle not to trust him. Crabbe came in on her side."

"He did?" Ron was wide-eyed.

"Oh, honestly, Ron!" Harry found himself unaccountably angry at his friend's surprise. "Have you seen Malfoy with Crabbe, this year? Even once?"

"I've seen him with Goyle."

"Oddly, they turn out to actually be different people. Goyle likes Draco. Crabbe doesn't."

"Since when?"

"Since his parents stopped requiring him to! I told you about that!"

Hermione nodded. "Goyle does like Crabbe, though, so it's not a simple split. He has a girlfriend, though, and she's advising him to stay neutral."

"I can see that."

"Then there's a sort of ... I don't know ... a liberal group? Mostly fourth and fifth years with a fifth-year leader I don't know the name of. They're all for halting the attacks on Muggles, which they say are self-destructive and foolish."

Ron hrumphed. "You're certain these people are Slytherins?"

"The Slytherins seem to think so. And they -- the liberal group -- treat Draco as a sort of ... senior patron or something, though he never says anything as directly as they do." Hermione stopped suddenly and turned a bit pink. "Except he said I was 'a clever girl, and had become really quite reasonable.' When he was fighting with Parkinson, yesterday, that is."

Harry was still thinking about Hermione's account when he found himself sitting next to Draco in Potions on Monday morning. Draco was frowning studiously at the pile of coarsely crumbled pixie wings on the counter while they waited for their solution to come to the boil. Harry wondered if he really had relaxed his attitudes towards wizarding purity, or if he was just posturing. I suppose the real question is if he is posturing, why? Is this his long-term strategy, or does he have some scheme to betray someone? Me, for example? Or perhaps he's trying to draw Severus out and betray him.

Harry hung back on the way up the stairs, and Draco stayed beside him. When everyone else was far ahead, Draco said:

"Well?"

"I was just wondering...." Harry trailed off uncertainly.

"Spit it out, Potter."

"Do you mind me being a mixed-blood?"

Draco snorted. "Oh, unbelievably! It's simply agonizing tolerating your presence -- that's why I avoid you so assiduously."

Harry laughed and Draco grinned at him.

"You git! What brought that on?"

"I was just thinking how strange it was that I sit with you -- voluntarily -- in two classes a day, three days a week. I wondered if you were actually getting anything out of this."

A Gryffindor would have become indignant. Draco thought it over. "Apart from the political benefits, in Defense Against the Dark Arts I sit with the only other person who seems to know anything about Dark Arts."

"Oh."

"Everyone else thinks I'm eeevil."

Harry smirked. "But I, of course, know it."

"See here!"

Harry laughed. "It's true! You stole the last piece of my lemon cake!"

They walked into the Defense classroom slightly late and giggling. Draco silenced immediately when he looked up at the front of the classroom. Today's substitute was not his head of house, but Professor Dumbledore.

"Oh, there you are!" said Dumbledore brightly. "Take your seats -- we were just about to start."

Draco looked nervously at Harry, so Harry jerked his head toward an empty table, and they sat and took out parchment, ink, and quills. In the silent classroom, it seemed an unusually noisy activity. It wasn't until they were set, quills poised, that Dumbledore spoke.

"Very good. Now, it has come to my attention that you have learned at least one hex to which you were not taught the countercharm. I have here a list of all hexes that you have learned this year -- at least as noted by Professor Lupin. For each one, I would like you to tell me what you know about countering it."

For a lesson with Dumbledore, it was surprisingly grueling. It took them the entire period to go through the hexes and discuss them. The only spell he actually taught them was an exhausting healing charm for puncture wounds and ruptures -- other than that, he simply made notes. Harry hoped Remus wasn't going to get in trouble.

"There we go!" the headmaster said brightly. "I'll give this list to Professor Lupin, and I'm confident he'll manage to work them into his lesson plan somewhere. Now you are all -- except for Mr. Potter -- dismissed." He stepped into the aisle, and people began hurriedly to rise. Harry waited. Draco, beside him, was still sealing his ink when Dumbledore stopped next to Harry's chair.

"May I interest you in lunch in my office, Harry?"

"Of course, sir." Harry hurriedly began to shovel his things into his school bag. "Sorry. I expected you'd keep me here."

"I am in a bit of a hurry, but please finish."

Harry nodded and got to his feet. "Bye, Draco."

Draco nodded formally. "Good day, Harry." From the look he shot Harry as he left, Harry thought he had really wanted to say "good luck!"

************

Severus stared at his cup of tea while he waited for Harry to arrive. He wondered if it was time to switch to some stronger stimulant -- he was likely to be up far into the night, and he would need to teach, tomorrow.

Voldemort had, of course, noticed that several of his intended victims appeared to have a means to re-open his agents' vulnerability to Dementors, and Severus was, indubitably, the most logical source of such a potion. Severus twitched as he remembered the torture of the previous night. He had maintained Occlumency through two rounds of the Cruciatus Curse and several more prosaic attacks, pushing down not only the truth, but the fear that his mind would be ripped into shreds, revealing all. Between assaults, he had repeated, with conviction, his plausible fiction: that Dumbledore had asked him for several batches of both Coeur de Leon Potion and the Bleeding Heart Draught. Of course, the potion he had provided was far more specific in its function than the Bleeding Heart Draught, but without an unopened vial of it to analyze, they could not know that. He was reasonably certain his lord had believed him -- believed that he had been foiled by Dumbledore's cleverness, not his own man's treachery.

Severus put down his tea and rubbed at his forehead. He was still afraid of being less useful, but now that the moment was almost upon him, he had to admit that he was ready for all of this -- the lies, the caution, the torture, the complicity in monstrous deeds -- to be over.

"Perhaps that is enough penance, then," he whispered. A shiver of amazement passed through him at his own daring. He looked at his calloused, stained hands; pictured the pretty ring on Harry's, on Lily's. Do you think I might be released, dear ghost? He had just heard her answering laughter, or a shadow of it, far off and faint -- the sort of laugh that preceded telling him he was a goose -- when Harry's bedroom door opened.

"Hi." Harry paused in the doorway and frowned slightly, but after a moment, he stepped forward and swung his legs over the bench to sit. "You look wrecked. I didn't think Kingsley was that bad."

Severus winced. At a luncheon meeting in Dumbledore's office, the circle of their secret had been extended to included Shacklebolt; He had come from the Ministry with Nymphadora Tonks and Arthur Weasley, to join Bill Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, and a haggard, but thankfully emotionally competent Remus Lupin, to brainstorm potential problems and counter-maneuvers for the hearing.

"I needed more warning. What I told the headmaster was entirely true -- a simmering solution of sunseed and griffin's blood does not allow for changes of schedule to fit the duty rosters of minor Aurors."

"It's a bravery potion, right?"

"Coeur de Leon? Yes." Severus snorted. "Not that we need it; I simply need to be making it." He pushed the teapot over to Harry. "What happened before I arrived?"

Harry shrugged. "They'd told him before I got there. When we showed up, he asked Dumbledore if it was true. Then he wanted to know if it affected the prophecy." He rolled his eyes. "Then he wanted to know if I was going to become 'difficult.'"

"If he thought you were not so before, he obviously hasn't seen much of you."

Harry laughed. "That's more or less what McGonagall said, but much more tactfully."

"So, you are to be masked, again."

Harry nodded, but his expression was, at best, resigned. "They have a point about getting into the Ministry. If I'm questioned at the door, someone may tip Fudge off, and then he could delay the hearing until the end of the session, while he went off and planned."

"Hm." Severus smirked. "I think it will be entertaining, seeing it dissolve as you enter the chamber."

"And then trying to convince them that I really am me! It's putting it on I hate -- I wish we could just use a glamour."

"Easier, no doubt, but hardly safe for these circumstances. Some Aurors can detect glamours, as Shacklebolt reminded us." Severus shrugged. "It will be no trouble to remove, at least -- the chamber itself will take care of that for you."

For a moment, they were both silent. Harry placed a finger against the spout of the teapot and moved it through a full circle.

"Did Remus ever tell you why he'd left his room, that night?"

Severus looked uncomfortable. He nodded. "When we were speaking to the headmaster this morning. He said he looked out his window and saw a student leave. He says it isn't as easy to see things as a werewolf. He was afraid it was you."

"Oh. But wouldn't his door...."

"Charmed to open for him, by someone from the Wolven ... that group. He had told Dumbledore, apparently, but had pleaded it be allowed to stand, in case he needed to defend you."

"Oh." Harry shifted. "Well, good."

"Harry...."

Severus's voice faded out. Harry looked over at him. "Yes?"

"It's not like you to be amused at the thought of being challenged by a crowd of distressed, possibly angry, strangers."

Harry puzzled this over for a moment. "You mean the Wizengamot, when the mask comes off? I shouldn't find that funny?"

"Exactly. I think you should keep in mind that, taking into account the amplification caused by your use of Genio, you effectively cast the Weakening Hex four times. That will have consequences."

"Oh." Harry tried to think whether he felt any different. "I don't think ... I haven't been lording it over anyone."

"No. At its current effect, it may be no worse than enjoying attention -- that is, after all, power of a sort. But you should stay aware of your desires. Getting over this -- to the extent you choose to -- will take some time."

"The extent I choose to?" Harry asked sharply.

"It might not be ill for you to be a bit bolder with an audience than you have been before now."

"I'll keep it in mind." There was another, longer silence. Harry cleared his throat.

"So. Is that all that's wrong, or is there something else?"

"Wrong?"

"Something's been bothering you since I got here."

"I hadn't expected --" Severus just managed to stop himself from saying that he hadn't expected the effects of torture or lack of sleep to hit him so early. "I'm ... very busy." He stood up. "Actually -- I ... I need to get back to work."

Harry stood also, but did not say his goodbyes. "I'll help."

"These are very complex potions, Harry."

Harry lowered his head stubbornly, but smiled. "Which no doubt require some very simple chopping, stirring, and timing. Besides, I just got here."

Severus hesitated. He had intended to have Harry stay longer, when he had invited him. He just hadn't been expecting to feel so taxed by the previous night's events, or to need to make more of the Dementor-resistance potion and its antidote. More families had been attacked on Saturday night than he had projected, although the werewolf assaults, as Voldemort had no doubt intended, had dominated the press reports. Severus could not rule out a second round of attacks on Thursday.

"If you don't mind."

Harry smirked. "If I minded, I wouldn't have suggested it. What -- you think I'd rather go to bed?"

"I would."

Harry appraised Severus thoughtfully. "Yeah. You look like it."

To cover his discomfort, Severus turned and started off for the lab, Harry, to his relief, did not press the point, but slipped on his cloak and followed quietly. In the privacy of the lab, he did his assigned tasks with a competence that Severus would not have wanted to credit in the boy, six months earlier.

Severus began work on the Dementor-resistance potion. His exhaustion did not abate, but it mattered less as he worked. Familiar motions and the comfort of his own practiced skill detached him from physical concerns. He was safely ensconced in his brewing when Harry spoke again.

"So. What's wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"You look like death warmed up, and you seemed to feel you needed me out of your kitchen. Why?"

"My lord is suspicious."

"Meaning what? He ... hurt you?"

Severus hesitated. The potion below him was grey and white as a dead fish, with little glints of shiny black, like flint. "Yes."

There was a short silence. "It will be over soon."

"That part will be."

Harry grimaced. "Then there's the Mark."

"Yes. I pledged myself to him for life; the price of faithlessness is high."

They worked in silence for a while longer. Severus left the first potion simmering and started the antidote. Like the Coeur de Leon, it used griffin's blood -- rare, dangerous, and heady -- but only a touch. He tipped it into a focus of the previous potion, sprinkled it with blossoms of bleeding heart, and watched the grey and white turn the color of dried blood, a heart meant not to withstand, but to be ripped apart. "It's so odd--" He stopped himself. He didn't know why he wanted to say "I like you here," "thank you for staying," or other, more dangerous, things.

"What's odd?"

"How ... how one becomes accustomed to ... company."

Harry smiled. Severus had the distinct impression he might as well have made some ridiculous declaration of love.

"I like being with you." Harry, somehow, seemed utterly comfortable saying that. "And you should spend more time with people." He frowned at the root he was mincing. "Are you.... Does Remus's conduct satisfy you?"

Severus tried to compose a careful reply, but his mind was woozy from lack of sleep. He resorted to saying exactly what he was thinking.

"I am satisfied, yes. I cannot change my public behavior now, of course, but you may."

"Really?"

Severus felt unaccountably happy at the boy's delight. "Yes. Meet with him whenever you want." A brief puff of breath escaped him, but he wasn't certain if he had intended a laugh or some more derisive sound. "Certainly, if he would die for me, he would die for you."

The steady clack of Harry's descending knife blade paused. He frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose." He looked down. "Are you going to be at the Halloween Ball, at all? Dumbledore made it sound as if you'd be with the Death Eaters."

"I will be there for the beginning of the ball." Severus heard his voice go harsh at the mere thought of it. He hated such things. Of course, the Markings would be worse. For a moment, he was transported to his own induction -- the elation of being accepted, included, important to a group of such power and a leader of such eminence and vision. On Thursday, he would watch more young fools -- many, he feared, ones who looked to him for approbation -- proudly bare their arms for the Mark he now bore with such loathing.

"Oh come on!" Harry's voice was teasing. "Anyone would think you'd rather be with Lord Tom than be obliged to watch students have fun!"

"If 'Lord Tom' was not claiming some of my students, I suspect I would be."

He heard Harry's knife descend in its steady rhythm ... once, twice, three times ... Harry let out a quick breath. "Do you know who?"

If I knew that, I could NOT GO!" Severus flinched at the sound of his own voice. He gulped at the air until his heart steadied. "Sorry. I hate Halloween. It reminds me of too many things."

"Death Eater things?"

Severus nodded slowly. "Attacks, my own Marking...." He shivered. "And your mother's death. And I think it was the day I understood my own mother was not coming back."

He was definitely, he decided, too tired. Either that or the fumes were affecting him.

"Did she die?" Harry managed to sound neither shocked nor entertained. Severus supposed it came of having grown up without parents himself.

"No, she...." Severus took a deep breath, only realizing belatedly that meant he was taking in more of the fumes. "She was in St. Mungo's for a time. A long time. Twice. The second time ... she met someone. When she got out, she left with him. I believe she went to Spain."

"And just left you?"

"I think ... I was getting older. I had come to ... to remind her too much of my father."

"That's not fair!"

Severus felt himself smile slightly at Harry's indignation. "I don't know how you can still expect anything to be fair."

He glanced over. Harry was staring at him. "You do it too."

"What?"

"You're not fair yourself, but you hate it when anyone is unfair to you." His focus softened for a moment, as he concentrated. "But not her."

"I ... I don't see what else she could have done. She needed to escape him, and that, unfortunately, included me."

Harry looked oddly distressed by that. "My mother wouldn't have."

"Your mother was very brave, Harry, and very clever, and very strong-willed. She would never have ended up in St. Mungo's to begin with." Severus decided to redirect the conversation. "The anniversary of her death -- their death -- doesn't bother you?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know when they died until long after I'd come to Hogwarts. It's just floating jack-o-lanterns, and apple-bobbing, and the feast, and the fun of it." He laughed shakily. "Though there was the mountain troll."

Severus scowled. "The one Hermione thought she could fight."

"Oh, she didn't really!"

"No?"

"No, Ron had been rotten to her and she was in the bathroom crying. We realized she'd missed the warning and sneaked away to tell her."

"She ...." Severus stared. "She would rather have people think she was that stupid than know she was crying?"

"No, she was trying to keep Ron and me out of trouble. She knew we'd get into more trouble than she would. That's when we became friends." Harry grinned. "She does that, sometimes -- the things that we can't get caught doing. Because she's usually so perfect, she can get away with it."

"Dear Merlin." Severus blinked as the full implications of this hit him. "You cause more trouble than we know?" He caught himself at Harry's grin. "Well, I knew that. But things other people admit to? Why would she?"

"Sometimes we might get expelled, and she'll just get reprimanded."

Severus snorted. "Harry, the headmaster has not expelled a pupil in my entire residency here."

"Oh." Harry's face reddened. "But Hagrid...."

"It is possible. But still, I think her a bit of a fool."

"We make it up to her!"

"Oh?" Severus assumed an expression of disbelief. "How, may I ask? You are a virgin, and she doesn't like recreational potions -- I don't see that you could be making it up to her much."

Harry's jaw dropped, but he closed it quickly and covered his shock by lifting his head haughtily. "You don't understand Gryffindor values."

"Oh, I see. You make it up to her by praising her nerve."

"And treating her almost like a boy, even if she is afraid of heights."

"Like a boy?" Severus nearly laughed.

"But with great tits and pretty hair slides."

Severus actually did laugh at that. He quite lost control of it, and decided again that it must be the fumes.

"I'll stop feeling guilty that she dumped you, then."

"Oh you should. We probably like each other too much for that."

"Probably."

"Besides, it wasn't your fault. It was just me mouthing off. I shouldn't have even mentioned you, however obliquely -- we were outside! But Remus had just told me I had been chosen as a target, and--"

"That long ago!"

"Er ... yes."

Severus scowled at his potion. "You know, I have been trying to think of some reasonable way to punish you for Saturday--"

"I saved your life!"

"True. However, had you gone directly to the headmaster, that would also have saved my life, possibly without the added risk I now have of losing it in the next few days."

"I'm sorry." Harry sighed. "I think ... the things that make me good at all that stuff -- at rescuing people, at combat, at ... at Quidditch, even -- are the same things that make it hard for me to remember that there might be other ways to do things. When there's trouble, I just act; sometimes it isn't the best thing to do, but often if I thought it through first, I wouldn't be able to do anything at all. I'd have died years ago if I thought about things -- there's no time."

"A fine argument when there is no time," Severus countered. "However, I know exactly how far it is from the Gryffindor common room to the third floor landing. If you had thought while you were running, you would have had enough time to see the possibility. You could have even paused and yelled back to Hermione -- 'Go and tell Professor Dumbledore; I'll stay by the door.'"

An idea that had been tickling the back of Severus's brain the day before resurfaced. He considered it for a moment. "I may, perhaps, have the perfect punishment."

He glanced at Harry. The boy looked properly alarmed. "Oh?"

"You might not consider it so, at first, but with the appropriate variation ...." Severus let the sentence trail off in a soft threat. "I am going to set up ambushes for you. Attacks. Situations. In many of them, your most probable first move would be wrong."

Harry looked quizzically at him. "Sounds like fun, actually."

"I thought you might think so. So, another rule. You may not immediately counter any hex that hits you. I will decide when you may lift it."

Harry grimaced. "You're going to turn my hair green."

"Oh, I was thinking pink, actually - a soft, baby pink. You'd find that so much more irritating."

Fear and amusement were warring on Harry's face. "Oh."

"And some things may be more directly painful. None will harm you, however." Severus turned back to his potion. "And with any luck, you will learn something, so it is constructive, as well as fitting. Did you know your Head of House wants to meet me on Saturday?"

"Why?"

"To discuss our appropriate spheres of authority. It is so seldom that a professor remains here while raising children that no one is sure of the protocol -- we'll need to negotiate the matter."

Harry shuddered melodramatically. "I am so doomed."

"Most likely, yes."

"Oh -- that reminds me. Professor McGonagall wants an update on my research, and I've hardly done anything since Ron and Hermione started talking to me again...."

"If you expect me to rescue you from the consequences of your irresponsible behavior--"

"Of course not! But I wanted to borrow some books. Could I take that history of the Unforgiveables, again? And there was another one -- Last Kiss, I think, about the adoption of the Dementor's Kiss as a replacement for execution."

Severus considered the matter for a moment, then nodded. "Collect them tonight, before you leave -- I'm not certain how often I will be available, this week."

They chatted amiably until midnight, when Severus's work was done. Harry returned to his rooms with him, collected some books, and then left for Gryffindor. Severus was able to fall into bed before one o'clock. Lily haunted his dreams and made him laugh.

************

Remus finally returned to the staff table for dinner on Tuesday. Harry felt a fear that he had not known he was holding vanish. Relief made him lightheaded and playful throughout the evening.

On Wednesday, he was not surprised when Remus asked him to stay after class. Hermione looked worried, but Harry shooed her towards the door, and stayed, alone, to speak to Moony. It felt good. When the last student was gone, he warded the door, just in case, and turned at the sound of Remus laughing.

"Did Severus teach you that?"

"The warding? Yes, I suppose, but--"

"I taught him. The one against scent, I mean."

Harry grinned. "Are things better with him?"

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling broadly.

"I think so. Waking up ... I found myself on the rug by the fire. He had left me a blanket and folded robes and terse note saying I could move to the couch if I needed more sleep before tackling the stairs. For Severus, that's almost affectionate! I decided not to strain things by staying; Dumbledore summoned us just as I was about to leave." Remus took a deep breath. "He glares as balefully as ever, of course, in public, but it was better at the meeting, don't you think?"

Harry remembered his father's distress at having inadvertently offended Remus, and nodded. "Much."

Remus shivered. "It may be better in public, when he has more freedom. I can hope, at least." His cheeks had turned uncharacteristically pink. "Harry -- what I said the day of the moon -- I'm sorry."

Harry shrugged. "I understand."

Remus nodded. "I'll do you the courtesy of believing you." He sighed. "Now ... what you did on Saturday ... I want to thank you, but I feel as though I ought to lecture you."

"Sorry. I just ... I was trying to explain to Father than that the things that make me good at getting in and out of trouble make me bad at thinking of alternatives to either. I just ... I do things. Often they're right."

Remus smiled and shook his head. "You get it from James. I don't know how, but you do."

"Could you just consider me to have already been adequately scolded, and let it go?"

Remus sighed. "Very well. And thank you. For everything."