The smell of frying fish mixed with the sent of Old Spice and tobacco, the feeling of a strong male arm around his waist, a flannel shirt under his chubby fingers, the sensation of stubble raking through his hair as his father held him on his hip whilst cooking their morning’s catch. The sound of his father's off key singing. Days before the darkness came.

“Now then Sev, which fishie for you?”

“That one Da!” chirruped the little boy, pointing to the little Dover sole. Da said that he was a Prince and should eat the food of princes.

“An’ which fishie for me?”

“That ‘un”

“Wha? That big fishie all for me?”

“You need it Da” laughed the little boy, poking at his father’s ribs.

“Cheeky li-il’ snot!” kind blue eyes danced with laughter. A special smile for a special boy, lightening the rough, weathered face like sunlight over the mountains.

OoOoO

“Sevvie, how many knots can your little head hold?”

Sitting on his father’s bony knees as long, elegant fingers gently teased the knots out of Sev’s wild, black hair. The fire is warm on his face.

“Not as many as yours!” The child answered pertly, tugging at his father’s rough black mane.

“Oi, you.” Low, warm laughter. “You got more’n that from me”

“I got your nose.”

“And a bloody fine nose it is!”

“Yeah. The bigger the better, right, Da?”

“Right, son.”

“An’ I got your hands” said the child, resting his chubby paws over his father’s elegant fingers.

“Will do one day.”

“But I ain’t got your tummy.”

“No you ain’t. You fat little blighter.” Wriggling fingers attacked his tummy, making the child giggle and squirm around to tickle his father in return.

“An’ you got my ticklish skin too.” laughed Tobias, holding aloft his precious, only child.

OoOoO

“Well, Sev. Me first day at work. How do I look?”

“Very smart Da. But you got ya tie on wonky.”

“Forget me own head.” Sighed Tobias, twisting the tie the right way.

“Why’d you ‘ave to shave?”

“‘Cos it ain’t smart to ‘ave a bristling chin.”

“But you look differen’”

“That’s kinda the purpose” replied Tobias, ruffling his son’s wayward hair. “Now, you be good for yer Ma. Don’t forget to make sure she eats her dinner an’ be kind to her, yeah?”

“O’ course Da.”

OoOoO

“You unnatural ‘arpy!”

Sev trembled at the foot of the stairs, listening to his parents argue in the living room. His face and stomach ached. He hadn’t meant to be naughty. He didn’t realise that Ma would be cross if he took the mick. Da always laughed.

But Ma wasn’t right in the head. She hadn’t ever been like other kids Ma’s: she worked every day and only came back late in the evening, after Sevvie was in bed. But, since she’d had THE accident, she had to stay at home and Da went out to work. Ma thought kids should be seen and not heard.

“‘Ow dare you lay hand on a child. ‘Ow dare you!”

And, when Da came upstairs to tuck him in and smuggle him a bag of humbugs, he’d seen the bruises. Da’s face had darkened and he’d stomped downstairs.

“The squib needs discipline. He does not understand his place.” Ma’s voice was so cold, it chilled Sev to the bone. What was a squib, anyway?

“Don’ you talk about Sev like tha’! Ee’s got spirit; ee’s a deal cleverer than most kids an’ if he don’t get to speak his mind, ‘ee’ll start to forget to use it.”
There was silence and Da’s tone became pleading.

“‘Ee’s a lovely little boy, Leenie, brigh’ as a button. Wha’ does it matter if he ain’ got magic? Ee’ll do you proud. Could even become Prime Minista. Yeh just ‘ave to give ‘im a chance, love.”

“Is it not enough that I marry a second rate man? Must I endure a second rate son?”

“Secon’ rate? Secon’ rate! Sev’s a deal better than you, Eileen. You know why? Cos’ ee’s got a ‘eart! You cold, vicious, old bitch!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Da!” Sev shrieked as a body thudded against the carpet. He ran into the room to see his father, lying on the floor as if asleep. But those beloved blue eyes were open and empty.

The darkness had come.

OoOoO

“Hey, Harry?” Vernon Dursley carefully lowered his bulk onto the hospital bed. In his hand he held a small bunch of hyacinths: the heady scent permeated the chemical smells which hung heavy in the air.

“Lo’” Huge green eyes in a thin pale face scanned the room. No one else was there. The child tried to smile through his cracked, burnt lips.

“Oh Harry! You know it’s bad to open the cupboard under the stairs!”

The child nodded, his eyes filling with tears.

“Well, at least you’ll know to stay away from the bleach.” the large man sighs, resignedly, stroking the child's messy, raven hair.

Harry shut his eyes, allowing the captured tears to overspill. He would never be able to tell his Uncle that Petunia had forced him to drink the nasty stuff.

OoOoO

“Hello Harry! Had a nice birthday?”

Harry nodded, forcing a smile. The presents: a shiny new, bottle-green bike, a paint set and a kite, were laid out around the sitting room and sweet-wrappers littered the floor. It would have been nice if Dudley had given him just one of the chocolates. Or if Aunt Petunia hadn’t made him work all morning on the house and all afternoon on the garden, whilst Dudley enjoyed Harry’s presents.

“Good lad.” Uncle Vernon punched him playfully in the shoulder. Harry winced.

“Sorry kid, don’t know my own strength.” The large man’s face had fallen. He wasn’t to know that there were bruises under the child’s shirt from today’s beating.

Harry turned away, biting his lip hard to stop himself from crying. It wasn’t fair. Why did Uncle Vernon work all day during the week and spend the weekend on the golf course? If his Uncle was home all the time, Harry would be safe.

OoOoO

It became worse after Uncle Vernon’s car crash.

Before the accident, Harry could always be sure that ten hours out of the twenty-four would be bearable: when Uncle Vernon was home from work, Harry was allowed to eat meals with the family and Aunt Petunia didn’t hit him or force him to do all the housework and gardening.

Now, however, Vernon did not come home: he was in a coma and, apparently, it was Harry’s fault because Harry was a freak. The beatings became worse, Harry was turned out of his bedroom and he spent his nights locked in the tiny cupboard under the stairs.

Then Uncle Vernon died. The darkness came.

OoOoO

“Now, then,” whispered the Sorting Hat “Where to put you, Harry? You are brave but not foolhardy; idealism was knocked out of you long ago, eh, boy? A good mind but not a born scholar: if you’re contemplating your navel you won’t be able to see the hand coming to bop you on the head. Hardworking but so suspicious of other people’s motives. Understandable, understandable. And not much ambition either. Hmm…”

“Please don’t send me back to Aunt Petunia!” Harry begged mentally.

“No, no Dear boy. You’re staying here. Hmm, it’s not a House you need: brothers and sisters may be able to put a plaster on the wound but they cannot heal it. However, you’re fearful of Matriarchs. Could be problematic. Though he may seem less than kind, he’s kin in spirit if not in flesh. Yes, yes, you will do very well together.”

“SLYTHERIN!” the Sorting Hat finally announced.

Harry slid off the chair and, passing the Sorting Hat to a shocked Professor McGonagall, headed for the Slytherin table, which was clapping enthusiastically. As Harry passed along the head table, his eyes locked with those of a tall, stern-looking man, who raised an elegant black eyebrow. Harry’s gaze immediately dropped and he scurried onwards. Surprise, tinged with concern, flickered in Severus Snape’s dark eyes. Harry Potter was certainly not what he had expected.

The answer was held within a sacred charge, passed down from Head of Slytherin to Head of Slytherin, since the time of Slytherin himself: protect the children.

Slytherin was a half-blood; child of a snake-yokai and a witch. His sire had died just after his child’s fifth birthday, after fighting off the human priests whose God demanded that they kill the ‘demon spawn’; a plump, green-eyed boy with a lisp and soft, acorn-brown locks. His bereaved mother had returned to her family who, fearing the eminently powerful child, had, thereby, treated Slytherin with cruelty and neglect.

So, unlike Gryffindor, the treasured child of indulgent parents, who could not believe that any heart could be cold enough to allow the neglect, let alone abuse of a child, unlike Ravenclaw, whose head was, aptly enough, so deep in the clouds that she couldn’t touch bottom with a long stick, unlike kindly Hufflepuff, who doled out honey cakes and sympathy but was too weak-stomached to bring the perpetrators to justice, Slytherin was the only founder who could see the bruises beneath the glamour and would seek vengeance.

Let the angels watch over children whilst they slept, the demon would destroy their nightmares. Slytherin, famed for his deadly vendetta against those who preyed on the vulnerable, came to be known as ‘the Basilisk’ for those who fell under his gaze would die as surely as if they looked into the dread eyes of the king of snakes.

Slytherin’s paranoia over the safety of Hogwarts had lead to many an argument between himself and Gryffindor: Slytherin protested that muggleborn children must become wards of Hogwarts at birth, lest their parents destroy them when their gifts manifested. Gryffindor could not bear snatch babes from the cradle: of course their parents’ love would be stronger than their prejudices. Slytherin wished that all muggleborns and their close kin be placed under a tongue-binding charm, so that their children’s powers and Hogwart’s existence remained hidden. Gryffindor thought it the height of barbarity to practice magic against defenceless muggles.

Eventually, Slytherin left in high dudgeon, leaving his position, the title of ‘Basilisk’, the duty and the book to his son. He also left a siege weapon, lest his worst fears should come to pass: spellcraft, while highly effectual in single combat, was useless in a melee: the muggle army could wipe out Hogwarts in a day. Therefore, Slytherin, whose sense of humour was keen, hatched a basilisk egg and hid the tiny snake within the bowels of Hogwarts. The basilisk, which could kill a thousand men with a single glare, was a necessary safeguard.

For the last few centuries, however, the Heads of Slytherin had not the gift of parseltongue but, nevertheless, still bore the title of ‘Basilisk’, the duty and the book: the Basilisk was sworn to seek out the abused, the broken, the wretched and shield them from their tormentors.

Slytherin may not have had the monopoly on abused children but, in Severus Snape, abused child, Deatheater, Potions Master, Duelling champion, those children had possibly the best protector since Slytherin himself.

"Thee firstern dutie of the Basilysk iys to ken thee kindern as thye owyn."

Severus Snape always changed after the feast. The dungeon bat image, while a useful tool in bringing unruly Gryffindors and too-clever-by-half Ravenclaws to heel, was not appropriate for the Basilisk to wear in ‘the Nest’, otherwise known as the Slytherin Common Room and Dorms.

So, after a quick shower, Professor Snape changed into a set of soft, forest-green dress robes: regal as to befit his station but rather less intimidating than black on black. He flicked a handful of floo powder into the fire and stepped through into the Slytherin Common Room. The Prefects had done well, all the children were sitting in a semi-circle around the fire, awaiting his appearance. Harry was slouching near the back, half hidden behind a chair. Sitting beside him was the Malfoy boy who- irritating little snot that he is- was poking Harry in the ribs, trying to get the other boy to sit up straight. Severus cleared his throat.

“What does the Bible tell us about snakes?" Severus intoned "It tells us that they are the incarnation of the devil, a cold-blooded, cold-hearted creature who must be shunned, a beast who will kill with no other motive than a love of bloodshed.

Many people will tell you that those who belong to the House of the snake are similarly cold-hearted, evil, dangerous and blood-thirsty." Severus paused significantly.

"But what does the Bible tell us about wizards and witches, we who bear the gift of magic? It says that good Christians should not suffer us to live. That we should be tortured and murdered. Let us not forget that, if one is to believe that snakes are devils incarnate, then so are witches and wizards. Are you a devil, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Dad, ah, I mean Father often tells me so!” Grinned Draco.

“A bad example perhaps.” replied Severus with a brief smile. “Let us now consider how the cultures who revered magic considered snakes. Asclepius, Greek God of Medicine, used snakes as conducts for his healing: non-venomous snakes would live in his temple and the infirm, the injured would sleep amongst them and be healed through these sacred snakes ministrations. Even today, many muggle pharmacies have the rod of Asclepius as their insignia. Maybe you too will one-day bear the snake as your emblem as you heal wounds of mind and body.

The cobra Goddess Wadjet, on the other hand, was charged with the protection of Egypt, the safeguarding of the monarch, the people and the land. The golden badges of Aurors, round and bright as the sun, echo Wadjet’s symbol. Perhaps one day you too will bear this badge and Wadjet’s duty to protect the people and the state.

Wadjet was also a goddess of wisdom: although associated with all of the land, Wadjet held the papyrus fields particularly sacred. Maybe you too will learn to love the papyrus and Wadjet will whisper her secrets into your ears. I certainly hope so for my sake.”

Severus’s eye caught a glimmer of green: Harry had raised his head and was listening avidly.

“And, perhaps, one of you will even be the avatar of the great serpent god Dahn and prevent the world from flying into splinters.

From creation to destruction to regeneration, snakes live in folklore as both good and bad but they are always, always powerful. You too will find power in your lives paths and I hope that you will choose gods like Ophion and Nuwa, the creators, Quetzacoatl, the regenerator, Asclepius, the healer, Wadjet, the protector and Dahn the savour, you will use that power for the benefit of wizard-kind.”

Severus paused.

“However, there are many who will see you, my snakes, as Apep, god of chaos and destruction. Therefore, outside the Serpent’s Nest, you will behave with the decorum and integrity as befits young gentle-mages. You will give those who suspect and would denigrate you no chance to find fault with your manner, speech or actions.

While you remain at Hogwarts, I expect you all to complete your courses to the best of your ability. To this end, I will be allocating study groups: where one of you is weak, another will be strong.

And although I don’t expect you to like each other- indeed it is rare that I don’t spend one evening a term extracting one snakes’ fangs from another’s tail- I do expect you to keep such disputes to the Serpent’s Nest.”

Severus conjured four arrows.

“One arrow, I can snap between my thumb and forefinger” there was a sharp crunch as the arrow broke “while three arrows cannot be broken” Severus tossed the bundle to Marcus Flint, a burly teenager, who gamely tried (and failed) to break the three arrows.

Severus continued “United, you can stand firm against the world, divided, you will break. And, while we are on the subject, your detractors will not be among the students alone. I will protect your interests and fight your corners but, if you hand weapons to your enemies, you will hurt not only yourselves but the rest of your house, including and especially me. Therefore, if your words or actions gain you detention with another teacher, you will also serve detention with me.”

Severus bowed. “The hour is late and your day has been long. Tomorrow, I will be expecting my first years for interviews. A parchment denoting your interview times is attached to the notice board. Goodnight.”

Severus threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and stepped into his chambers. A stiff whiskey, his leather armchair and a chapter of Dickens sounded just about perfect.

OoOoO

“And, of course, ‘Draco’ is Latin for ‘dragon’ and dragons are close relatives of snakes. Indeed, many of the snakes in mythology are wyrms, which are a kind of dragon.”

Harry nodded. Conversation with Draco was refreshingly uncomplicated; just nod, smile, laugh or shake your head at the appropriate moment and he chatted on quite happily.

“Well, I can see what my sister, Violet, meant when she said that it would make a damn sight more sense having Professor Snape teach History of Magic” interrupted Pansy “Binns is an awful bore. He’s a ghost, you know. Bored himself to death, according to Violet.”

“So, really, where else could I have been. Or you, Harry. What he said about Dahn was aimed at you, I could tell” Draco gave Harry a significant look “Of course, Professor Snape does have to toe the party line. As my father always says, the walls have ears. Especially in Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded. By now they were in the boy’s dorm; a snug yet spacious room with flocked cream wall-paper, polished parquet floor and six four poster beds with plump pillows and thick duvets, in cream silk, and heavy green velvet curtains. Lamps were affixed to the headboards of the bed and, beside each four-poster, was a wardrobe and, on the floor, a soft green rug.

“Well, better be getting some shut eye.” Announced Draco “Professor Snape’s quizzes are infamous. I’m going to have the bed by the window, by the way. You can have the one by the fire.”

Draco opened his trunk and grabbed his school robes “Better hang these up to get rid of the creases. The wardrobes have the most splendid de-creasing and cleaning charms. Oh, and, once you touch them, they won’t open for anyone but you and the Basilisk.”

“The Basilisk?” queried Harry.

“Our head of house; in mythology, the Basilisk is the king of the serpents.”

“Oh.” Harry grabbed his school clothes quickly and jammed them onto the hangers. Hagrid, while being a kindly soul, didn’t know his own strength and, in ‘helping’ Harry to pack his trunk, had creased everything. Including the trunk.

Before re-locking his case, Harry grabbed his potions text book. If he could just read a chapter every half an hour, he could have the book finished by half-four.”

OoOoO

“Mr. Potter, while you may not find Potions an enthralling prospect, please refrain from falling asleep on the desk.”

Harry twitched upright, blinking desperately. Severus sighed, it would not be a good start to the year to drag his 'star' student over the coals.

Whilst reciting his ‘Introduction to Potions’ speech, Severus was aware of a pair of large green eyes taking in his every word. Green and shining, like a young beech leaf against the sun light. So similar in shape and expression too, they only lacked her fiery eye-lashes. The warmth in his stomach curdled as he turned to look into the face of a young James Potter.

“Mr. Potter…” Severus hesitated as his mind regained supremacy; Potter was a Slytherin and, after preaching house unity, he had to practice it. After all, the boy was still but a child.

“What, pray, is a bezoar?”

“Goat! Ah, I mean its this little stone that’s found in the stomachs of gold-horn goats. If you’re poisoned, you suck on it.” Harry looked up at Severus, hope glimmering behind the fear in his eyes. Lily’s eyes. The tiniest cockle of Severus’s heart had the audacity to warm itself. He squashed the feeling ruthlessly.

“Very good, and what is the difference between Monkshood and Aconite?” A girl thrust her hand into the air, Harry looked around nervously, unsure as whether he should answer. Snape nodded to him.

“Er… aren’t they the same plant.” ventured Harry.

“Correct. It is more commonly known as Wolfbane.” Severus felt a smile tugging on his lips as an idea struck him. Maybe something from the penultimate chapter?

“And what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

“A potion which makes you seem dead whilst you’re alive…” replied Harry “er, it was mentioned in Romeo and Juliet, ah…” At this point, the annoying bushy-haired bint was actually waving her hand in the air, Severus studiously ignored her.

“Your eloquence astounds me, Mr Potter. However, having studied your potions text all night, it is unsurprising that perfect coherence is beyond your capabilities. Five points to Slytherin for near complete knowledge of your textbook.”

Draco nudged Harry, grinning.

“And one point from Slytherin: the next time you decide to study past midnight, it’ll be fifty.”

Crabbe frowned “You lost us points, Harry!”

“One from five is four, Vin. Harry still won us four points overall. Honestly!” sighed Draco melodramatically.

“Now," continued Severus, "while Mr. Potter, as befitting his celebrity status, has become a potions prodigy before his first lesson, it would not be suitable for us lesser mortals to start with the Draught of Living Death or anything containing poisons such as aconite. Besoars, as Mr. Potter will tell you, are rather rare and my current stock runs to three. Which potion do you suggest we start with, Mr Potter?”

Harry blushed. “Dunno, sir” he muttered, ducking his head.

“Chapter one, then. Well, what are you waiting for? Get reading!”

Whilst Professor Snape was collecting pails of ingredients from the potions cupboards, Harry shyly looked over at him. When Uncle Vernon was still alive, Aunt Petunia had used a certain tone of voice; it sounded nice but there were inflections on certain words which felt nasty, like there was another meaning behind the words. Harry had learnt to listen for those inflections, or he’d catch it later if he didn’t make himself scarce.

Professor Snape’s tone had been sarcastic, even slightly sneering but the inflections hadn’t been all that nasty. The way he said ‘prodigy’ had actually been warm, like he was pleased or something. The Professor also hadn’t continued to pick on Harry once Harry had become embarrassed, which kind of showed that he hadn’t really been trying to be mean. And then there were those points. Points meant a lot to Slytherin: Harry had noticed how the other teachers were reluctant to give them points- even when Draco had succeeded in transfiguring his button from green to red on first go, Professor McGonagall hadn’t given him a point. Harry winning points had made Draco happy- so happy that he even stood up for Harry when Vince picked on him. No one had ever done that before.

Harry grinned. He was going to become a potions prodigy.

Harry gulped and shifted nervously. Marcus Flint’s eyes narrowed.

“As for where someone’s picking on yer in-house, an’ by that I mean other snakes, ye’d best go to the Basilisk. It ain’t my job to sort out domestics an’ the Professor’d ‘ave me hide if I laid hand on yer, even if yer deserved it.”

Rhiannon, a slender, dark-haired girl, punched Marcus in the arm. “However, don’t lllet Marcus worry you too much: bulllying is not tolllerated by any of the Hogwarts staff and Professor Snape is particulllarly fierce with offenders. Not many students are foolllhardy enough to pullll the Basilisk’s tailll, so the lllikellihood of such problems occurring is really quite lllow. However, that said, if someone does start to bullly you, come to us: however big and fierce they might seem, they won’t be a match for us, lllet alone Professor Snape.”

“An’ you’re to come to me if you need ‘elp with yer Quidditch or Herbology an’ Rhiannon for most other subjects” Marcus added “Professor Snape wants yer to do yeh best and if yer stupid at a subject fine, just ask for ‘elp if yer need it an’ do yer best.”

“Now, I expect you’lll be wanting your suppers” finished Rhiannon “Meallls at Hogwarts tend to be chilld-friendlly: lllots of chips and sweet things. We ask that you serve yourselllf a balanced breakfast and a portion of greens with lllunch and supper. And onllly one serving of pud per mealll. Or you’llll get fat as butterballls and Marcus willl have to take you on Quiddich training” Rhannon added with a wink.

“So scram. An’ don’t be late for yer appointments with Snape.” said Marcus brusquely, but with a softening grin. “Yer’ll be going to and from yer interviews in pairs, as it’s late. Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davies will be first up, it don’t take a genius to work it out from there.”

oOoOo

Harry sat down at the table in the great hall, eyeing the food with concern. Marcus looked pretty fierce and, despite the prefect’s assurances, Harry didn’t want to be on the wrong end of those fists.

“Don’t just sit staring at the grub, Harry, you might waste away” said Theodore Nott, rolling his eyes. “The prefects don’t have to inspect your plate; they’ll know you’ve been overeating when you start to waddle and, for skinny kids like us, that’ll take quite some time.”

Harry shyly reached for the hotpot and served himself a small portion, with a few buttered sprouts on the side.

“Training to be a Seeker?” grinned Draco, nudging Harry in the ribs. “Don’t get your hopes up: I’m pretty nifty on a broom if I do say so myself. Shame we can’t try out until second year.”

“What’s a Seeker?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco stared at him open mouthed “Whats a… whats a seeker? Harry, where have you been living? On Neptune?”

“Lay off, Draco.” drawled Blaise. “Not everyone lives and breathes Quidditch.”

“Says the boy who has a subscription to ‘Hair and Nails Weekly.’”

Blaise raised an eyebrow “Speaking of which, I thought your father’s article on hair potions was highly illuminating.”

“What! My father wouldn’t… Was there…?” Draco stammered, flushing.

“No, of course there wasn’t!” laughed Pansy.

Draco, after a moment of confusion, began to chortle and, seeing this, Harry giggled along with the other Slytherins, mostly in relief. For a moment there, Harry had shown himself up; it had been stupid to ask what a Seeker was. However, thanks to Blaise, it seemed that his faux pas had been forgotten.

Prefect Flint, who had been watching the first years in amusement, walked past the group’s section of table and nonchalantly shoved a whole quarter of treacle tart in Harry’s direction. The boys around Harry laughed and, after a bit of banter, helped themselves to large portions of pudding. Harry smiled: Hogwarts was great.

OoOoO

“So what do you think happens at these interviews?” whispered Harry to Draco, watching the clock tick steadily towards half seven. His appointment with Professor Snape was at seven-fifty p.m and Harry was becoming more nervous with every second that passed.

“Oh, we’re asked to make Polyjuice Potion and, if we fail, we have get re-sorted into Hufflepuff.”

“But Polyjuice potion isn’t even in the textbook!” Harry exclaimed.

“Lay off, Draco” huffed Millicent “He talks to us a bit about ourselves, asks us if we’re settling in okay and gets Pomfrey to give us a medical.”

“Violet told us.” Pansy stated smugly.

Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass entered the Common Room, chatting avidly.

“How did it go?” Blaise asked, smiling winsomely at the flaxen-haired Tracy.

“Not bad, Professor Snape made me drink a pepper-up potion because Pomfrey thought I was coming down with a cold” Tracy made a face.

“I had my interview first,” said Daphne “Professor Snape set up a silencing charm around his desk and Tracy was told to sit in the corner and read for a bit.” Daphne held up a small, brown book entitled ‘Wizarding Etiquette, Culture and Customs’.

“Professor Snape gave us these as ‘induction’ gifts, not that we’ll really need them.” added Tracy, showing them her copy.

Harry smiled to himself.

oOoOo

“Enter, Misters Potter and Malfoy.”

Harry and Draco stepped inside Professor Snape’s office: a small, dark room shelved from floor to ceiling with jars filled with gruesome, floating things. Occupying most of the room was a large, gothic desk, behind which was a chair which seemed fit for a dark-lord. Observing their awed expressions, Severus allowed himself a small smile.

“Come,” the Potion Master indicated to a door behind the desk, “This is only the, ah, public office.”

The two boys followed him into a handsome sitting room, decorated in much the same style and colours as their dorms. Two plush, but comfortably worn, green leather armchairs crowded the roaring fire, well stuffed bookcases lined the walls and in one corner stood a handsome writing desk with two well-padded chairs: not so much furniture to crowd but enough to give the atmosphere a certain snugness.

In one of the armchairs, the one next to a side-table upon which brown books were piled, sat a matronly woman with a pretty and kindly face. She rose to greet them.

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, this is Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts Nurse.”

Draco bowed and Harry, wrong-footed by the unexpected ceremoniousness of the greeting, quickly followed suit.

“Mr. Malfoy, if you would step up to the desk. Mr Potter, please sit with Madam Pomfrey.” Said Professor Snape, indicating towards the armchairs.

Harry lowered himself into the chair in which Madam Pomfrey had not been sitting.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter. As Professor Snape has told you, I am the School Mediwitch, although everyone calls me Nurse. Professor Snape has asked me to give all his new students a check-over: Hogwarts students come from all over England, Ireland Scotland and Wales and they bring their local germs with them- which can result in a pretty nasty flu epidemic if not nipped in the bud.”

As Pomfrey was speaking, Harry noticed that her eyes were slightly shifty and her cheeks a little flushed. She was lying.

“So, I’m just going to cast a little diagnostic spell, it looks like a snake but don’t be alarmed; it’s just healing energy and you won’t feel a thing.”

Harry paled. A spell? Harry could explain away most of the external scars and he had no new bruises- Aunt Petunia had been careful about that- but what if the Magical examination uncovered things which the physical could not.

“Um, don’t you need my Aunt’s permission for that?” asked Harry.

Madam Pomfrey frowned. “During the school year, Professor Snape is ‘in loco parentis’, he has a parent’s rights and responsibilities.”

“What if I refuse?”

“I suppose we would then refer the case to the Headmaster” replied Madam Pomfrey slowly “But why would you refuse, Harry?”

Harry gulped, this wasn’t going well.

“Will you keep my results confidential?” Stupid! Why did he say that? She was already suspicious.

“I would normally, yes, Harry.” Except if there was a child-protection issue, the Mediwitch added in her mind.

“Okay,” Harry said, looking away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madam Pomfrey twist her wand into an intricate spiral. A white snake, seemingly made from glittering smoke, coiled towards Harry and wrapped him in its coils. There was a sweet, wholesome smell and a feeling of warmth.

Madam Pomfrey tapped her wand against an unstoppered bottle and the smokey-snake was drawn inside and immediately condensed into what looked like grey ink.

“Now, Mr. Potter, I need to write up these notes so read this book, theres a dear.” Madam Pomfrey handed Harry one of the brown books and dipped a white quill into the ink. Harry watched over the edge of his book as the quill, having sucked up the grey ink with a rude slurp, bounced onto a sheet of parchment and began to write.

Harry’s stomach squirmed when Madam Pomfrey’s face fell, then darkened with anger.

“Well Mr. Potter, what a surprise to see you in Slytherin.” Severus said, sitting down at the desk. “Many thought you would follow your parents into Gryffindor.”

Harry tensed. He had already heard about the rivalry between the two houses.

“How are you finding life amongst the serpents?” Professor Snape asked, his tone suddenly neutral.

“Good.” replied Harry quickly.

“Your eloquence leaves me quite speechless, Mr Potter. Mainly because there is little to which I can respond. Pray continue.”

Harry hesitated “Draco is nice…”

“Although somewhat ‘up himself’,” continued Snape with a smile “he gets that from his father.”

Harry stared: that was unexpected. “Um, maybe a little. But then, I must seem rather stupid. I don’t even know what a Seeker is.”

Severus eyed the boy contemplatively: James Potter had been Chaser for Gryffindor and Lily had been a fairly staunch supporter of the Harpies, dragging her poor parents to many a match. In the circumstances, therefore, Harry’s dearth of Qudditch knowledge was surprising. What was more surprising, nay, concerning, was Harry’s sincerity when he called himself stupid.

“There is a game called Quidditch” Severus found himself saying “it is played on brooms and is a little like muggle football: the goal is to put a ball called the quaffle into one of the opposing teams three nets. However, if being hundreds of feet above the air is not dangerous enough, bowling balls are hexed to collide with players: two of the team, the Beaters, are charged with the duty of batting these balls, which are called bludgers, away from their team mates. The Seeker is responsible for catching the last ball which, like the bludges, flys around of its own volition. This ball, called the golden snitch, is small, fast and elusive; the Seeker who catches it wins 150 points for their team.” Snape paused.

“Quidditch is fast, dangerous and often brutal so, as you can imagine, boys gravitate to it like flies to a honey-pot.”

“Oh!”

“Yes, read the chapter on Quidditch tonight: otherwise the boys might decide that you belong in the girls’ dorm.”

Harry giggled, despite himself “But Blaise doesn’t like Quidditch.”

“Blaise Zabini Senior, Mr Zabini’s father, was a famed dueller and his mother, Guinevere, is a Potions Mistress who has been widowed too many times for the public’s comfort. Quite frankly, although Blaise is a nice boy, they simply wouldn’t dare.”

“Now,” said Professor Snape, changing tack “You live with Amanda and Richard Evans…”

“Who?”

“Your mother’s parents.” Severus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Um, no. I live with my aunt. And my cousin.” replied Harry hesitantly. Severus noticed, again, that gleam of fear in the boy’s eyes.

“You mean Petunia?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Severus felt his mouth go dry. Oh, it was all falling into place.

“You mentioned a cousin, do you have an Uncle as well?”

“He died.” The boy’s shoulders slumped.

“My condolences.” Severus muttered. What had Dumbledore been thinking? He had told Severus that the boy was living with his grandparents!

Severus licked his lips. As little as he wished to take a stroll down memory lane- with James Potter’s son of all people- he knew full bloody well that Petunia Evans was no fan of magic. Marcus Flint’s observation that Harry seemed ‘scared of ‘is shadow’… It all added up. But should he talk to the boy now? At school, Harry was in no immediate danger from his relatives, wouldn’t it be better to let him settle in first?

“Is there anything else you would like to tell or ask me, Mr Potter?” Severus finally asked, discretion winning over valour. Harry shook his head.

“Very well.” Professor Snape lifted the privacy charm and, after receiving a significant look from Madam Pomfrey, escorted the boys to the door and bid them goodnight.

To: L. Malfoy.
From D. Malfoy.

Hogwarts School, 2nd September. 

TOP SECRET

Dear Father,

Do you remember that boy who I met in Madam Malkins-the shy one who Mother scolded me for associating with because, as he didn’t know about the Hogwarts House system, she thought he was a mudblood- well that was Harry Potter! It seems he was brought up by muggles; he didn’t even know what a Seeker was and his quilling is atrocious- ink blots all over the place. Mother would stare if she saw it.

Anyway, despite all this, he’s in Slytherin! (I know, I couldn’t believe my ears either!) I think it might be because he doesn’t like muggles. He certainly doesn’t seem all that fond of his aunt and cousin- he hasn’t written to them and, if we talk about our families, he looks uncomfortable. Of course, if I were brought up by muggles, I’d be feeling pretty ashamed of it too.

As you suggested, I’ve been friendly to Harry. He’s really shy and doesn’t talk much. (From what I've heard, he spent his entire journey on the Hogwarts Express locked in the lavatories!) However, he seems bright enough- he’s memorised the entire potions text book! Severus took off a point for him for staying awake all night reading but he also awarded Harry five points for being a ‘potions prodigy’. (Harry blushed like a girl when Sev called him that! It was really funny). He kind of reminds me of poor Flossie sometimes.

Hogwarts is fine. I’m in Slytherin (no surprises there) and so are Greg, Vince, Theo and Pansy. There’s also a pureblood girl from Wales, Tracy Davis, and a half-blood, Daphne Greengrass. Blaise Zabini, the Italian boy, has also been sorted into Slytherin. He’s such a dick. He made a comment about you writing an article on hair potions for ‘Hair and Nails”!

Could you send me some “popping cauldron” chocolates? I’ve told Harry about them and he said he’s never tried them.

Please send my affectionate regards to Mother,

Your obedient son,

Draco Malfoy.

oOoOo

From: Daddy
To: Draco Malfoy

Malfoy Manor, 3rd September.

Dearest Draco,

Congratulations on being called to Slytherin House. I am very proud of you.

So, Harry Potter is in Slytherin? It is not wholly unsurprising, I grant you, but the House of the Snake does tend to accumulate the more powerful of wizards and, if the poor boy has been living amongst muggles, a certain level of practical intelligence is to be expected as hiding both his magical ability and obvious superiority would have been no small task.

I am very pleased that you have befriended Harry and I would urge you to continue to pay every arrear of civility and attention. Harry’s induction into Slytherin is certainly fortuitous as even the staunchest gentlemage could not criticise you for complying with the ancient rule of House Unity.

Although it is quite natural for you to feel the superiority of your blood, I would advise you to be cautious as to the attitude you display towards those whose lineage is less immaculate. Harry’s mother was muggleborn and, therefore, a slur against muggles might injure Harry’s feelings and make him less amenable to your overtures of friendship. The word ‘mudblood’ should definitely not continue to pass your lips.

I would also advise you to think on the treatment Flossie suffered at the hands of her previous owners. Find out more if you can but be discreet.

Thank Mr. Zabini for his compliment on my coiffure. I wonder what you said, My Draco, to occasion such a comment.

I have included the Chocolate Cauldrons; it's a large box so please spare at least one for your new best friend! I have also added a metal quill-tip for Harry: Mr Scrivenshaft has informed me that muggleborns often find these easier than the traditional quill-nib as they ape muggle ‘fountain pens’. (Do not get excited, Draco: these devices do not ‘fountain’ as such, they are merely hollow sticks which contain glass reservoirs of ink: the metal nip is attached to the reservoir and it writes much like a quill. These ‘fountain pens’ do not require as much delicacy and finesse and are, therefore, more suitable for muggles than quills.) Apparently, one simply slips the nib onto the end of the quill and then continues as one would with a normal quill.

Mummy sends her ‘affectionate regards’,

Love Daddy xxx

Postscript: it would be wisest to refer to Severus as 'Professor Snape' during term time.

Usually, Galen would see a child’s body as mostly white and pale pink, with a number of patches of deeper pink on the extremities: the more clumsy children, for instance, would have fuchsia splashed across their knees and lower hands.

As Galen saw things, almost every inch of Harry’s skin was the deep red of old blood, his lungs and ear canals were fuchsia- indicating numerous, probably untreated, infections- and a number of his bones showed worrying pink lines of old breaks incorrectly set. In short, Harry looked like he had been crushed by a falling building and left in the dust to die or mend. Another cause for concern was that Galen’s findings indicated malnutrition and, more worrying still, in the snake’s own words, the boy was starved in the soul.

Just to make sure, Poppy had drawn Harry’s Medical Records from the NHS: apart from a nasty incident involving the supposedly accidental ingestion of a muggle cleaning product (hence the unusual redness in the oesophagus) Harry’s Medical Record was a blank. Shit.

So here the Mediwitch sat, her stomach trembling with a mixture of horror, anger and grief. Severus would be here soon and Poppy knew that she must break Harry’s confidence and tell him what she knew. It felt wrong, fundamentally wrong, to betray a boy who had already been so badly betrayed but what else could she do? If Harry returned home, he would be constantly at risk.

Tears heavy in her eyes, Poppy clasped her hands and prayed “Asclepius, bring your light and healing to this poor child…”

OoOoO

Sometimes, Severus really, really wanted to brew a certain type of potion: just a few common, house-hold ingredients and he could make something that would have him happily watching the pretty lights for the next eight hours. After all, if one is away with the fairies, one doesn’t have to face life’s problems. Like the sad, green eyes of one’s best friend, set in the sad, pinched countenance of one’s boy-hood nemesis.

However, the first time one knocks back a vial of happy potion, one crosses a line: one can never go back and, oh, doesn’t that make it easier to do it a second time, and a third, and a fourth. And that route ends with one selling oneself on street corners for a bit of salvia divinorum.

Best stick to whiskey, there’s a chap.

Petunia Evans. Oh, it was no bloody wonder why Dumbledore had lied; Severus had never made any secret of his dislike for Petunia. She had been a vile, vicious girl, one who delighted in small evils and- if she thought nobody was watching- large evils too. Severus would never forget poor Lily’s tears when she came home to find Valentine, her rabbit, dead in his cage. Old ‘Tuney’, however, hadn’t known that Severus was a Legilimens- well, at least until the furious boy had hexed her bald.

The Wizengamot had, of course, dismissed the case: no witch or wizard would criminalise a young boy for reacting badly towards someone who’d killed his best friend’s familiar. (Especially when the hex had not caused physical harm and was easily fixed.) In his closing speech, Dumbledore had urged Severus and Lily to forgive Petunia, for the rabbit’s death must have been an ‘accident’.

Severus poured himself another whiskey, then tipped it back into the bottle. He needed to be sober to confront Dumbledore. Bloody Dumbledore. Of course Petunia Evans wasn’t as bad as poor, sensitive, melodramatic Severus thought she was. After all, Severus had also disliked charming, oh-so-noble James Potter because of the cheerful boyhood japes the latter had played. Like breaking three of Severus’ ribs, stripping him nude in front of a jeering crowd and setting a werewolf on him.

Harmless fun. Just like ‘Tuney’ must have been having with Harry bloody Potter all these years.

And, therefore, Dumbledore had lied to Severus. Richard and Amanda were dead. Died just after James and Lily got married, according to their obituary in the Halsenford Recorder.

Severus sighed: he might have thought Harry’s situation almost karmic, had he been a different sort of man. Sins of the father and all that. But, although Severus would have be the first to call himself a mean S.O.B, he did have a shred or two of decency and what appeared to have happened to Harry didn’t seem like justice.

Enough mooching around. Whatever Poppy’s report said, the content wouldn’t soften with time.

OoOoO

“So, if you were to put a percentage on the likelihood of abuse..?”

“Oh Severus” cried the Mediwitch, wringing her hands “ninety-five, one-hundred percent. Harry’s body… I’ve never seen a child with anything like it. Only you…”

“Yes, yes, you don’t need to remind me. The only question is; will this be enough to convince the Headmaster?”

“Severus! You cannot suspect…”

“The blood wards, Poppy!” Interrupted the Potions Master irritably “And even if Harry were not under threat, you know how Dumbledore can be.”

“What other evidence would Albus need?” cried Poppy “Harry’s only been to see a physician once and that was when he swallowed bleach!”

“I am going to have to pay the boy’s guardians a visit” Severus said slowly.

“Severus, I don’t think that would be a very wise idea.”

“I simply want the truth, Poppy. Anything else can wait. Pensieve evidence is admissible in the Wizengamot, so it should be good enough for the Headmaster.”

“Then I’m coming with you. I’d like to give this Petunia a piece of my mind.”

“If we’re to convince Albus, it would be best for you to remain impartial. I’ll ask Charity: as a muggle born- and Professor of Muggle Studies, no less- she should be beyond suspicion of bias.”

“But Charity isn’t a legilimens.”

“Item 12.a.ii of the Truth Serums Act should cover it.”

“Veritiserum?”

“Of course. As Harry’s Head of House and having reasonable belief that Harry has been abused, I am entitled to use Veritiserum on his guardians to verify as to whether Harry should be made a ward of Hogwarts.”

Severus smiled grimly “I should like to hear Petunia Evans admit the truth for once in her wretched life.”

Draco stretched out luxuriantly on his bed “Oh, don’t mention it. Horatio, that is Horatio Scrivenshaft, owner of Scrivenshafts, the stationers, is a good friend of my Father’s. I told Father about meeting you and he thought that, as you were brought up by muggles, you might not be used to using a quill.”

“I… It was really nice of your Father to think of me” replied Harry, touched.

“Oh, Father is very good like that and, besides, he was sending me these chocolates anyway. Do have another.”

Harry selected a white one with black speckles.

“Ah, dragonfruit!” said Draco “Mr Honeyduke designed this flavour to celebrate my birth. He’s another good friend of Father’s.”

“Your Father seems to know a lot of people.” said Harry shyly.

“Oh yes, the Malfoys are one of the first families of England. We know practically everybody who is anybody.” smiled Draco, indulgently.

“What are your parents like?” ventured Harry.

“Well, my Mother, Narcissa Malfoy Nee Black, is a very beautiful and accomplished witch. She has a thorough knowledge of music, modern languages, painting, and dancing. She is also powerful: she passed all her Newts with Outstandings.

My Father is a duelling champion and has completed Masteries in Potions, Transfiguration and Defence. He also breeds briards: we’ve won best of breed at the IWHEC for several years running. However, his main job is running the Malfoy estate. We own substantial acreage in Wiltshire.”

“He means farming” cut in Blaise, who had entered the dorm. “Heads up Harry!”

Harry grabbed the ballistic éclair, squirting himself with cream “Thanks!” Harry said, grinning.

“Honestly Blaise!”

“Oh here, I got you one too” said Blaise, sitting down beside Harry and handing Draco a large cream bun. “Been raiding the kitchens. Well, I say raiding but it’s not exactly as if the elves aren’t keen to give stuff away.”

“There are elves here?!” gasped Harry.

“Mmm, house elves. Not normal elves. Hell, I’d hate to have one of those as a servant. They’d make me look thoroughly common.”

“You are thoroughly common” said Draco, picking the almonds off his bun.

“Draco Malfoy, don’t pick at your food!” squawked Blaise, his tone suddenly falsetto.

“My Mother does not sound like that!”

“Ah, recognised her, did you?”

“Look what Draco’s dad found for me!” Cut in Harry, anxious to avoid an argument.

“Oh, a quilling tip. Those are really useful, especially if you have to write long essays” said Blaise. “Nice one, Malfoy.”

“Thank you” replied Draco a little stiffly.

“You mentioned the INHEC earlier, what is that?” asked Harry, to break the silence.

“The IWHEC: it's the “International Wizarding Hound and Equine Championships”. A big dog and horse show, held over the summer. It’s great fun: in the Equine Championships they have several groups, including winged horses and unicorns. The Hounds Championships, however, are strictly for non-magical dogs. It’d be too dangerous to attempt to show Cerberuses and direhounds.”

“We entered a couple of our horses last year in the dressage.” Said Blaise. “It was amazing; we breed Pegasus and Mum allowed me to enter as I’m just tall enough.”

“Dressage!” scoffed Draco.

“Riding isn’t for the faint hearted, Malfoy. You ought to try it sometime.”

“It can’t be worse than walking a couple of briards: they’re big, strong and stubborn. If I had a gallion for every time I've been pulled over, I could buy Fortescues.”

“I’ve always wanted a dog.” said Harry. “But my aunt doesn’t like animals.”

“Mother’s not too keen either. The dogs tend to get a bit muddy and Father allows them all over the furniture. Anyway," said Draco, looking enquiringly at Harry "that’s the first thing you’ve told us about your family."

“I live with my aunt and cousin. I had an uncle but he died.” Harry said, looking sad.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Said Blaise “How did he die?”

“Car accident. He got hit by a lorry on his way home from work. He was in a coma for a while but the doctors said his brain had died.”

“That’s rough. My father died when I was four.” confided Blaise “He had a nasty strain of Dragonpox and the stupid Healer gave him the wrong potion.” Blaise grimaced “He got his comeuppance, though.”

“I heard your mother married him.” Said Draco, offering Blaise a chocolate cauldron.

“Yeah, she did.”

Draco snorted and chucked a chocolate at Harry, who caught it.

“Good reflexes.”

“Thanks” Harry replied shyly, biting the top off his chocolate and savouring the delicious caramel, which popped and fizzled on his tongue.

“My Mum’s an Italian. Hot Blooded." said Blaise with a grin "She's great: once, when my teacher at primary school yelled at me, she dumped a fruit flan right over his head: she was one of the parent assistants on a school trip. 'Don't you speak that way to my bambini'" It was so embarassing but also kind of cool, now I look back on it." Blaise smiled "I take more after my dad, though, he was really laid back.”

Draco laughed “Well they say opposites attract.”

Blaise grinned “Don’t they just. What’s your aunt like, Harry?”

“She’s… fairly hot tempered too. My uncle was very kind, though he spent most of the time working or at his Golf club.”

“Golf?”

“It’s a game where you have to hit little balls into holes with sticks.”

“Oh.”

“Well, I’d better get started on my Potions Essay” said Harry, standing up suddenly. “Thanks for the Quill tip and the chocolates, Draco. And thanks for the cake Blaise.”

“Bye, Potions Prodigy” called Blaise, as Harry headed for the common room. “Well, I’m off to take a shower. See you later, Malfoy.”

Draco waved Blaise off and, when he was sure no-one was looking, took some parchment and a quill out of his attaché case. A thank-you note to his father was due.

OoOoO

Charity Burbage had always struck Severus as a decent sort. Admittedly, it might have been because Severus and Charity were the proverbial ships which passed at night. Professor Burbage was a morning person, up with the lark and in bed with cocoa by nine, whereas Severus was, by nature, a night owl; he was always last down to breakfast and stayed up to the wee hours brewing, reading and writing articles for journals. Moreover, as it took a brave Slytherin to sign up to Charity’s course, Muggle Studies and, therefore, Severus seldom had either the opportunity or reason to fall out with her. This meant that Charity was one of the few Professors in Severus’ good books and vice versa.

Although that would change if the silly bint didn’t get her flouncy ass out of her bedroom right now.

“Charity!” Severus hollered through her bedroom door.

“Give me a second to get me tights on.” Charity yelled back. When Severus had knocked on her office door, she had answered in a fluffy, pink dressing gown. There had been a bear on the pocket. Severus was sure that he’d see it’s creepy, grinning face in his nightmares.

“Aww, crap! Laddered them.”

“Then cast Repairo.”

Eventually Charity opened the door. She was dressed in a sensible, knee length skirt… and a fluffy jumper.

Inwardly sighing, Severus offered her his arm. He expected that he’d be picking blue fluff off his favourite blazer for weeks.

OoOoO

Once they were outside the school, strolling across the grounds, Charity said “So, we’re going to find out whether a kid’s being abused. Who is it? Anyone I know?”

“Not yet.” Severus reassured her “He’s one of my first years. Poppy and I have reason to believe that he has been quite seriously neglected, if not abused.”

“And he’s in a muggle family, right?”

“Yes.”

“Funny that, a muggle-born in Slytherin.”

“We do have our share of them, Charity. However, this particular child is a half-blood.”

“It’s not…”

“Discretion, please.” Severus interrupted.

Charity hugged her cloak around herself. “What kind of people could do that to a defenceless kid?”

“Ones whom you would pass on the street without a second glance.” was the quiet reply.

OoOoO

Petunia Dursley hummed happily to herself as she liberally spread chocolate icing over a plump cupcake and sprinkled on a handful of bright, candy-coated chocolate buttons. After Vernon had died, Petunia decided that she couldn’t bear to send Dudley to Smeltings, a boarding school, and she certainly wasn’t going to waste her cash on Harry’s education. So Dudley had been enrolled at a private school in a nearby town and Harry… well, least said about that the better. At least the little bastard was out of her hair.

There was a knock at the door. Darling Duddy must have decided to come home from Piers’ party early. Wiping her fingers on a dishcloth, Petunia bustled into the hall.

“Duddy, what a lovely surprise!” she exclaimed, opening the door.

“Hello Petunia.” smirked Severus Snape.

“Hello Petunia.” smirked Severus Snape.

“Oh, hello Severus! I thought that it was my son Dudley,” replied Petunia with a saccharine smile. “He’s been at one of his little friends’ parties this evening. But what a wonderful surprise to see an old childhood friend instead. What brings you here tonight?”

“Charity and I” said Severus, indicating his companion “are tutors at Hogwarts” a nervous twitch under Petunia’s left eye rewarded his emphasis of the final word. “I expect that you’ll be delighted to know that Harry has been inducted into my House.”

“Oh, I cannot say that I am delighted, Severus, dear; the boy is such a handful. He has ADD, you know. Ran me ragged for the last ten years. I honestly don’t know what to do with myself now he’s at school. He’s not in trouble is he?”

“Oh no, no, not at all.” replied Severus, grinning like a shark. Charity looked from Petunia to Severus perplexed. This nice woman… well she just didn’t seem the type!

“Only Harry, well he’s a dear boy but he gets up to so much mischief. I positively lived in his last headmistress’s waiting room, all the times he’s got into trouble: he’s so sensitive. Of course, it’s to be expected, what with what happened to his parents.” Petunia continued, oozing sympathy from every pore “Not that it was always his fault, of course, he’s so clumsy. Bad co-ordination: the doctor thinks that it was his head injury, the one he got on the night my poor sister died.” Crocodile tears leaked from the woman’s eye and she dabbed at them with a little scrap of lace.

“When is your husband coming home, Ma’am?” asked Charity. It was quite obvious that Petunia was not the one at fault here, if there had actually been any abuse at all. Poor co-ordination and Attention Deficit Disorder were a bad combination; it seemed very likely that any injuries that the boy had suffered were accidental.

“Oh! My husband, he died a few years back. A car crash.” Petunia was sniffling in earnest now “My poor, dear boys have never quite got over it. Especially Harry.”

“Oh I am so sorry!” blurted Charity “I didn’t know.”

“Why don’t you ladies sit down and I’ll make a nice cup of tea.” Offered Severus, striding into the kitchen. Petunia looked, for a moment, as if she wished to stop him but she immediately thought better of it.

“That would be lovely Severus” she said, her eyes now watering in earnest.

oOoOo

After a moment’s rummaging, Severus found a teapot: it was the work of a moment to fill it with water and cast a quick boiling charm. Reluctantly, Severus added three teabags: he hated the gritty little powder that the bags leached but, as there was no loose leaf in the house, he would just have to grin and bear it.

A quick summoning charm called a tray, three cups and saucers (with a nauseating flower motif), a sugar basin and a milk jug. Severus took two little vials from his pocket: one he emptied into the teapot and the other he swigged back, making a face as he did so. He would just have to hope that Charity lived up to her name and forgave him.

OoOoO

“Milk and two sugars, right, Petunia?”

“Why yes, Severus, you remembered after all this time?!”

“I have an exceeding good memory, Petunia.” Smirked Severus, handing her a cup. “And how do you take yours, Charity?”

“Oh, just black, please, Severus.”

Bugger, now he would have to add both milk and sugar to his own.

After furnishing them all with cups of tea, Severus took a gulp of the foul, sugary brew and began to chat with Petunia about Harry’s progress in potions, his budding friendship with Draco, the praise- or otherwise- of the other Hogwarts teachers, whilst watching, with great satisfaction, as Petunia drained her cup.

“So, Severus,” Petunia said finally “I imagine this isn’t just a social call, given the lateness of the hour, why are you really here?”

“Severus thinks that you have been abusing Harry” blurted Charity, who then looked horrified and clasped her hands over her mouth.

Severus smiled and relaxed back into his chair “I don’t know whether you recall, Tuney, the story of the Celtic queen- I’m sure you were eavesdropping when I told Lily about her- whose husband was murdered by the Chieftain of a neighbouring tribe. This Chieftain took the widowed queen to wife and, one day, she offered him some stew. The Chieftain, suspecting poison, told the Queen to eat some first, which she did. It was only after the Chieftain had finished his portion that the Queen informed him that it was, indeed, poisoned and promptly died.”

Petunia’s pale eyes were round with horror, her mouth screwed up like- Severus uncharitably thought- a cat’s rectum. Her gaze fell on the tea pot.

“Oh yes, Tuney,” said Severus, his voice smooth and rich as caramel “The tea was, indeed, spiked with truth serum. One which compels the imbiber to speak when asked a question. Now, tell me, what do you really think of Harry?”

“He’s a freak. An abomination. A nasty, weedy, squint eyed little wretch. He was always watching me with those unnatural green eyes. Judging. Plotting. I could see it in his nasty, pinched little face. I didn’t want him, he was forced upon me. Vernon couldn’t see what a foul, unnatural thing he was but I could. My poor Dudders; I was so afraid that he’d infect my little boy, my beautiful, normal child, with his unnaturalness. Thank God Dudders takes more after me. He could see that Harry was a freak. Hated having such unnaturalness in the same house, my poor boy.” replied Petunia, her words coming out in a rush, like water which has been pushing against a dam.

“You said that Vernon, your husband, liked Harry?”

“Yes, poor, tender-hearted fool. He favoured Harry over Dudley, you know” said Petunia with an ugly look on her face “how he could dote on such a scrawny, dark, sallow thing when he had his own flesh and blood, our own little blond, rosy-cheeked cherub, in the next cot, I could never understand. He sat up all night with the keening thing- not even a proper cry- all night!- when it had colic.”

“And when Vernon was outside the house, how did you treat Harry?” queried Severus.

“As he deserved” came the short reply.

“Did you feed him?”

“No.”

“Did you play with him?”

“I couldn’t bear to touch the little wretch. Besides, I had my Dudley.”

“Describe Harry’s day when he was between 18 months and two years.”

“I fed and changed him at six, before Vernon left for work, and put him back in his cot. At five o’clock I took him out of his cot and fed, bathed and changed him. Vernon would play with the boys after he’d had his tea. We put them to bed at seven.”

“You didn’t feed or change Harry between six AM and five PM?”

“No.”

“Did he get nappy rash?”

“Yes but I slathered his arse in nappy-cream and Vernon never noticed anything wrong.”

Severus grimaced “And, when Harry was a toddler, how did his days go?”

“Got Harry and Dudley up at seven, fed them before Vernon left for work.” Petunia said mechanically “I put Harry in his playpen until Vernon got home. He bathed the boys whilst I made tea. After we’d all eaten, we put the boys to bed. Harry was sleeping in the guest room at that time. Didn’t want him near Dudley.”

“And, between the ages of four and eight, what was an average day for Harry?”

“Got Harry and Dudley up at seven, gave them breakfast. Sent the boys to school. They got home at four o’clock and, well, Harry was old enough to earn his keep so I gave him chores until six, when Vernon got home. We ate tea at six-thirty. Harry was in bed by seven.”

“What sort of chores did Harry have to do?”

“He washed the dishes, picked up Dudley’s room, gathered the laundry and put it in the wash, ironed the clothes, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, did the gardening, washed car, chopped vegetables, made the lunch, dusted all the rooms and wiped down the glosswork.”

“What were you doing whilst Harry did all this?” Asked Severus, appalled.

“Playing with Dudley or watching TV.”

“And what happened if Harry didn’t complete a chore to your satisfaction.”

“I slapped him. Took a belt to him sometimes. Little bastard deserved it.”

“And how many times a day did you hit him?” asked Severus. Charity had tears in her eyes.

“Normally five or six, sometimes more, sometimes less.” Petunia replied carelessly.

“And how often did you beat him with an instrument?”

“Three, four times a week.” Severus dug his nails into his hands. The temptation to draw his wand was overwhelming.

“And how did Harry’s routine change when Vernon died?” he finally asked.

Petunia smiled “I didn’t have to pretend to care for the little freak. Gave Dudley the guest room as a play area and put Harry in the cupboard under the stairs. He got up at five, did the chores, made Dudley and I breakfast, went to school, came home, finished the chores, cooked tea. I locked him up in his cupboard before Dudley and I had tea.”

“Did you feed Harry at all?” asked Severus.

“He ate at school, didn’t he?”

“What about weekends and holidays?”

“I gave him a bowl of soup if he finished his chores” replied Petunia dully.

“Tell me about the bleach incident?”

“He threatened to tell Vernon. I’d hoped that the little brat’d never speak again but, worse luck, Vernon came home early and found him. Took him to A and E.”

“Are you convinced that Harry has been the victim of criminal neglect and sustained abuse, Professor Burbage?”

“Yes.” replied Charity in a choked voice.

“Very well.” Severus looked into Petunia’s eyes and whispered “Legilimens”.

Images assaulted his brain. A whimpering baby whose bottom was, not only inflamed, but also almost raw in patches, being roughly slapped with cream and bundled into a nappy. A weeping toddler, stinking of faeces and clutching at his stomach as he sat in an empty playpen. A tiny, terrified, chalk-white face beholding a leather belt. A child, slouched like an old man, walking through the door and watching, with heartbreaking envy, as another, much larger boy, was embraced by Petunia.

“Mum! I’m back!” a huge blond boy entered the door. His clothes were sleek and designer and a mobile phone- a luxury which most business men would envy- tucked carelessly into the pocket of a well cut, nappa leather jacket.

“Who are these guys?”

“Teachers from the freak’s school.”

“Oh” the boy’s piggy eyes rounded with surprise and fear.

“We are just leaving” said Severus calmly. As he stood up, he quickly cast sleeping charms on Petunia and Dudley, who slumped into a chair.

“I’d better obliviate them, for now” said Severus “The Headmaster will not be as amenable to persuasion if we curtail his discretion.”

“Huh” said Charity, whose Veritaserum was wearing off.

“Dumbledore is as human as the rest of us. If I take the decision out of his hands by, ah, dealing with Petunia, he will get on his high horse.”

As Severus obliviated the Dursleys, a section from "Thee Dutie of Thee Basilisk" slithered out of his subconscious:

“Iyf onne kindre be preferred, so ays to bryng payne to thee unwanten, theyn thyse speyll bey of yuse. Iyt’s kenning iys Jaycobbs Spyll, beyng namened for Jaycobb who loved und honyered onne sonne aybove alles oters und theyreby caysed greet mysery unto themme.”

Severus smirked and cast ‘Jacob's Spell’ on Dudley, a lovely little, well, it couldn’t be called a curse; it was actually more of a blessing, really.

“What was that?” Asked Charity, as the twinkling white light faded.

“Have you ever heard the Bible story about Joseph and his coat of many colours?”

“Oh yes,” enthused Charity “It’s a famous musical: ‘Joseph and his Technicolour Dreamcoat’”

“Yes, well, imagine how Jacob would feel if Joseph woke up one day and told his father that, the night before, he had dreamed that he, Joseph, had switched places with one of his less favoured siblings and that, in this dream, he had endured all that his sibling had suffered. Imagine how Jacob would feel when Joseph told him that he had realised the cruelty of his fathers’ actions and despised him for them. That he no longer desired to be Jacobs’ son.” Severus smiled, his dark eyes glittering like obsidian “That is what is going to happen to Petunia when Dudley wakes up.”

oOoOo

“Severus, Charity, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Albus Dumbledore, welcoming the Potions and Muggle-Studies Professors into his office.”

“I suggest that we wait for Poppy to arrive before going into any great detail,” replied Severus, sitting down in a chintzy armchair. For all Professor Dumbledore’s intellectual brilliance, he had worse taste than Petunia. “Let’s just say it concerns Harry Potter.”

“Oh dear, has he met with some mischief?” asked Dumbledore in a concerned voice. “It was highly unfortunate that he should be inducted into Slytherin with Messrs Malfoy and Nott, their families are not known for their tolerance of mixed-blood. Is that why you are here, my dear?” Dumbledore turned to Charity.

“No Headmaster, I am not aware of any such problems.” replied Charity, quietly.

“Mr. Potter is actually settling very well into Slytherin” Severus sneered “I have heard of no trouble from that quarter. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

The fire roared green and Poppy stepped through the Floo, she was carrying a bundle of Medical Reports.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Poppy said, sitting down in an armchair “Please read this; it’s Harry’s National Health Service record.”

Dumbledore scanned the almost blank page. “Oh, that is unfortunate. Household cleaning liquids can be the very devil; their bright bottles and fruity scents are very tempting for little ones. But how gratifying that, otherwise, Harry has a clean bill of health” Dumbledore looked up, his eyes twinkling. The complacent expression faded when faced with Poppy’s stony countenance.

“I have checked, Harry has never been admitted to a private clinic either.” Said Poppy Pomfrey coldly. “Severus asked me to do a medical examination on his first years. This is Harry’s report.”

Dumbledore took the scroll and unravelled it. There was a good five feet of parchment and, as the Headmaster scanned it, his face paled.

Finally, he looked up “You’re sure of this?”

Galen, the serpent spirit, coiled out of the end of the Mediwitch’s wand. His expression tightened into one of fierce concentration and he shifted into the shape of a child’s body. Of Harry’s body. Dark patches mushroomed on the pale form and bloody red stripes criss-crossed over it’s back so densely that scarcely any white could be seen.

Dumbledore bit his lip, looking disconcertedly at the slowly revolving form. “I have seen enough, Poppy, put it, I mean him, away.” He said finally.

“Harry was very reluctant to undergo medical examination” said Poppy, softly, as Galen wound back into her wand “He even tried to make me promise to keep his results confidential. I, of course, had to betray that confidence. I did not do so lightly; I am genuinely frightened that, if he returns to his guardian, he might not survive it.”

Dumbledore turned his gaze to Charity and Severus.

“Professor Burbage and I visited Petunia this evening and, under Veritaserum, she made a number of confessions.” On seeing Dumbledore about to open his mouth Severus added “I did not harm her; I simply sent her to sleep and cast a memory charm so she would forget having seen me this evening.”

“Very well, Severus. And what did she tell you?”

“Charity, would you be so good as to allow the Headmaster to see your memories in his Pensieve?” asked Severus politely.

Charity nodded and Dumbledore bent under his desk to retrieve an empty stone basin. Soon, the Headmaster was deep in the Muggle-Studies Professor’s memories.

When Dumbledore surfaced, he looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

“And do you have something to show me, Severus?” he asked, in the tone of one who wants to get everything over at once.

Severus raised his eyes to the Headmaster, welcoming them into their jetty depths. Together, he and Dumbledore watched Harry’s misery, his pain, his hunger and his fear.

“Why did you tell me that Harry was living with the Evans?” asked Severus finally.

The Headmaster looked wretched “Although I knew that Petunia had faults, she was Lily’s sister and Harry is Lily’s child. Petunia loved Lily when they were young and she, I believed, continued to feel some regard for her sister even when... And the man she married, Vernon Dursley, by all accounts he was a kindly man. I truly thought” said Dumbledore sadly “that she had changed for the better. Harry was such an adorable little boy: I thought she must love him.”

“That was not an answer to my question!” said Severus hotly.

“I had to place Harry in his aunt’s care” replied Dumbledore, his tone also becoming heated “Lily had protected Harry from Voldemort’s curse and this protection ran in Harry’s veins. Petunia, as Lily’s closest living relation, save Harry, could act as an anchor for blood wards so strong that, as long as Harry remained in Petunia’s house, not even Voldemort could harm him there. I knew that you bore no love for Petunia, that you would disagree, but what other choice did I have?”

“He cannot go back there.” said Severus baldly. Poppy and Charity nodded in agreement.

“Yes, yes. I accept that.” Replied Dumbledore, distractedly. “This has opened a whole box of doxies. I will draft papers for Harry to become a ward of Hogwarts. We have a couple of safe houses; I can only hope the protections around them will hold…”

“If you will excuse me,” said Poppy, “I need to be getting back to the Hospital wing.”

Charity yawned, “I better get back to bed or I won’t see the morning.”

“I’ll come by to countersign the documents tomorrow morning, Headmaster.” said Severus coolly. “Until then, I bid you goodnight.”

“Goodnight, dear boy.” replied Dumbledore, a soft plea in his voice. Severus sneered and turned his back.

When he was alone again in his office, Albus Dumbledore turned to his phoenix “I appear to have made a bit of a mess of things Fawkes.”

The Headmaster was not comforted by the bird response: which was to turn his back and contemptuously relieve himself.

“Oh dear."

Two faces peered up from their work; while Harry’s countenance was fearful, Draco’s was twisted into what he seemed to think was an expression of honest bewilderment.

“But, Sir, we work so much better this way” said Draco in an ingratiating voice “Harry’s simply brilliant at the knife-work- look at how finely he’s diced, not sliced but properly diced, the root- and I’m very good at composing the actual potions. They’re the most perfect shade of azure, just as the textbook says they should be!”

“I suppose I’ll just have to write to the exam board, then, and tell them that you and Harry must complete your exams together, as you obviously can’t bear to be apart.” Replied Severus, quirking an elegant, sable eyebrow. On the workbench behind them, Blaise and Theo snorted into their cauldrons. The bushy-haired girl- Harry had heard that she was a muggleborn called Hermione- glared disdainfully and turned away, her nose in the air.

“Until I have the Governors affirmative, however,” drawled Severus, “you will work separately. To master potions, one needs both knowledge and practical skill: palming off half the task on each other will stand you both in bad stead when you have to work alone.”

Harry looked crestfallen. Sharing the work with Draco had seemed such a good idea at the time but now they’d disappointed Professor Snape.

Seeing Harry’s anguish, Severus felt a bit of a heel, which was darn inconvenient, not to mention nonsensical: at least he’d had a genuine reason today, he wasn’t being a bastard just because he felt like it, as was so often the case.

To relieve his discomfort, Severus continued; “However, your approach to your work shows maturity and good management. Harry is, indeed, very skilled in ingredient preparation and Draco is a consummate potioneer. Five points to Slytherin.”

As Harry and Draco, with gleeful expressions on their faces- set up their individual work-stations, a red-haired gangly boy turned to his chubby neighbour “It’s so unfair, Snape always favours the slimy Slytherins.”

“He did have a reason, though, Ron.” replied the round-faced boy nervously “They’ve almost finished their potion and we’re only half-way through.”

Hermione smirked at Ron: her potion was also bright azure blue. Ron stuck his tongue out at her and turned back to the plump boy. “Honestly, Nev. Whose side are you on?”

oOoOo

“Ah! Our first flying lesson's after lunch!” grinned Draco, rubbing his hands together. “I can’t wait to get back on a broom. At home, I fly almost every day.”

Harry helped himself to a chicken kiev, some green beans and a baked potato. Over the last two days, the Slytherin table had seen less stews, casseroles, large pies and hotpots and more stuff like this: large pieces of meat, individual pies and chunky vegetables. Harry always tried to choose the smallest portions but it was so difficult: even the sausages came on strings of three, as opposed to individually!

“Is flying hard?” Harry asked.

“Depends. Some of us, like me for example, are naturals. We fly before we can walk. Others don’t find it so easy, unfortunately.” replied Draco.

“I bet I suck at it.” said Harry sadly.

“Got to suck at something, Harry” said Theo, a slender, rusine boy, philosophically. He made a careful incision in his chicken and watched the garlic butter bleed out onto his potato. “I suck at Herbology- once managed to kill a resurrection plant- Draco sucks at History of Magic- he can scarcely remember his date of birth- Blaise sucks at being macho” Theo ducked as Blaise threw a bread roll at his head, “not to mention basic table manners. Let’s face it Harry, if you didn’t suck at something, you’d be annoying.”

“Fascinating, Theo,” drawled Pansy “I notice you didn’t mention any of us girls” she fluttered her eyelashes, obviously waiting for a compliment.

“Girls are annoying anyway” said Theo, taking a slurp of his pomegranate squash.

Pansy puffed up like an irate cockerel.

“Theo also sucks at self-preservation” laughed Blaise. “He’s not worth it, Pansy. Wait till his balls drop and he’ll be singing a different tune.”

“Course, you could always kick ‘em in.” guffawed Crabbe.

“His singing would be different enough then.” added Goyle.

“Boys! Barbarians the lot of them!” exclaimed Tracy to Daphne, glaring at Pansy and Millicent, who were choking back giggles.

oOoOo

“Hey, Malfoy! I think your girlfriend can find her own broom!” taunted Ron. His cronies, a sandy-haired, Irish boy and a black London lad chucked appreciatively.

Draco looked up from the stack of Cleansweeps, Comets and Mosquitoes, where he had been pointing out to Harry how to spot a flawed broom.

“Don’t pay any attention to that buffoon, Harry.” Draco said, sneering “See that red hair? He’s a Weasley; common as muck, all of them.”

Ron’s face surpassed red and went straight to purple. Luckily, at that moment, Madam Hooch walked over.

“Come on, boys, no lollygagging. Pick a broom and get lined up.”

As Harry turned to leave, he noticed that Hermione and Neville, who had been standing near them, trying to- unobtrusively- listen in to Draco’s lecture, were still standing beside the pile of brooms, looking at the sticks as if they would bite them. He nudged Draco.

“Oh all right!” said Draco, in a put upon voice. “Look, girl, that one there’s twigs are all the relatively straight and more or less the same length. It won’t list to the side too much. There’s another one over there which looks half decent. Come on, Harry, let’s get over to the pitch.”

“Thank you” said Hermione quietly.

“Yeah, thanks.” added Neville, looking at Malfoy with appraising eyes.

oOoOo

“Up!” commanded Harry, with equal hope and despair in his voice. The Broom smacked into the palm of his hand.

“I did it!” Harry exclaimed ecstatically. Draco, his own broom hovering beside him, smiled indulgently.

“Harry, you’re annoying, you know that?” called Theo, grinning.

“Our own resident genius” added Blaise, putting his hands over his heart with mock adoration.

Harry blushingly smiled.

“Those Slytherins are such a bunch of fags” said Ron, loudly: Madam Hooch, helping students at the other end of the line, being safely out of earshot.

“Just because you’re jealous, Weasley” smirked Blaise, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Eww, gross!”

“Now, children,” said Madam Hooch, striding to the centre of the pitch. I want you to mount your brooms and hover. Just hover. If anyone of you goes over a meter, it’ll be detention.” She turned a steely eye on the knot of Slytherin and Gryffindor boys.

Harry had just got himself comfortable on his broom when he heard a wail. Neville, the round-faced boy, had shot up like a comet and was accelerating fast.

“Get down here, boy!” yelled Madam Hooch.

“Help!” screamed Neville.

Harry looked on in horror as the poor boy slipped off the still accelerating broom. Madam Hooch grabbed her wand and hastily cast a spell which seemed to slow his decent but Neville still landed with a sickening crunch.

“Nasty” whispered Blaise to Theo.

Madam Hooch rushed over to Neville and, after casting a few spells, helped him up. He was white in the face and seemed to be in pain.

“Broken wrist. Nothing worse, though nasty enough, you poor boy” the witch said distractedly, as she lead Neville past the worried flock of students. “You’re all to stay here. No one, I repeat no one is to even touch a broom.”

“Hey, look, Seamus” said Weasley, turning to the sandy-haired boy. He picked up a small red ball. “Nev dropped something”

“Didn’t do much good for him, did it” said the Seamus. “It should’ve reminded him not to trust Slytherins. Bet they hexed his broom.”

“No we didn’t” snapped Harry “We’d never do something like that!”

“As if we can believe you, traitor!” replied Weasley.

“Harry’s not a traitor!” said Theo, his expression darkening “You and your kind are the traitors.”

“I think we should chuck it in the lake, Ron” said Seamus. “We don’t owe Nev anything. He’s not really one of us.”

“No!” the bushy-haired Hermione cried, trying to grab the ball from Weasley “It was a present from his grandmother.

Everything happened so fast from that point; Weasley pushed Hermione and she fell over, Harry leapt at Weasley, Seamus tried to punch Harry, Draco succeeded in punching Seamus, Crabbe and Goyle shoved Seamus and Weasley’s other crony away from the fray whilst Blaise sneered at the Gryffindor girls who had tried to pick on the now crying Hermione, who was being comforted by Daphne.

“Just what is happening here?” drawled a too-familiar, silky baritone.

oOoOo

“Gentlemen, I commend you. It seems, I have a little nest of Wadjets this year.” Severus smirked at the quivering group of first years assembled in his office. “Such knight errantry in the defence of a fair lady is highly commendable. However” he paused significantly “you are not knights, you are students. What, Mr Potter, should you have done when Mr Weasley assaulted Ms Granger?”

“Dunno Sir.” whispered Harry, looking at his feet.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

“We should have gone to find a Professor, sir.” replied Draco, looking crestfallen.

“Indeed you should, Mr Malfoy. And now I am in quite a quandary. You have not only thoroughly broken the Hogwarts rules of acceptable behaviour by assaulting your contemporaries, you have broken the Slytherin rule of Decorum by flinging your fists around like muggles in a bar-room brawl.”

Harry flinched. Oh, they were in for it now. Did Hogwarts have the cane, like St. Brutus’? Aunt Petunia’s rule was five lashes for a minor offence. Professor Snape thought that they had committed two serious offences!

“And yet, you, in defending Ms Granger, also upheld the rule of Decorum and, by protecting each other, fully complied with the rule of House Unity.”

Severus smiled “I really feel that I have no other choice than to award you each five points” several faces looked up at him, their eyes gleaming with joyful surprise.

“And set you each an individual detention with me one night this week. I cannot have it said that I endorse the breach of Hogwarts rules.” Harry’s eyes filled with fear and it did not take a legilimens to guess why.

“On your allocated night, you will bring your textbooks and homework” continued Severus “If there is a subject that you find particularly arduous, then, time permitting, I suggest you save your homework for you detention, as I will be on hand to help you.”

Harry sighed with relief.

“Mr. Potter, as you cast the first blow, you will have the first detention. Tonight, my office, seven-thirty. He’ll have half an hour for your supper so don’t look at me like that Mr Malfoy.” drawled Severus, resisting the urge to smile: Draco was treating Harry like an injured puppy.

“Sorry Sir” said Draco cheerfully.

“Dismissed. And please try not to get into any more trouble today.”

OoOoO

Harry knocked on Professor Snape’s office door at precisely seven-twenty-nine. Harry knew that people didn’t like it if he was too early- they did not want to endure his presence longer than necessary- but, if he knocked on the exact minute, he was almost late and ‘almost’… well, a miss is as bad as a mile.

“Enter.”

Harry opened the door of the ‘creepy office’, as he had privately dubbed it and saw Professor Snape standing in the doorway of his nice office. Harry smiled shyly and followed the Potions Master into the bright, cosy room.

When he got there, however, he was aghast to see Madam Pomfrey sitting in an armchair. This was not good, not good at all.

“Harry, dear, come and sit over here” Said the Mediwitch in a gentle voice.

“I’m really clumsy!” Harry jerked out “I trip over my feet all the time and I’m always spilling hot drinks on myself.” Why had he said it like that? It sounded dead suspicious!

“Mr Potter, please sit.” said Severus, pointing to a chair. Harry lowered himself into the warm leather gingerly, looking all the while like a rabbit in the headlights.

“You will never be returning to Privet Drive again, nor will you ever see your aunt, unless you specifically wish to do so.” Severus pulled a long scroll out from his robes. “This is an edict signed by, one, Professor Dumbledore, in his dual-capacities as Headmaster and Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, two, the Head of the Board of Govenors, three, by Madam Pomfrey, the resident Wizarding Child-Services representative, and, four, by me, your Head of House. You are now, officially a Ward of Hogwarts and no one, not even the Minister of Magic, can force you to return to your Aunt, even for a minute. Do you understand me?”

Harry’s eyes were glazed. It was too much to take in. He’d never have to return to Privet Drive, never have to see his aunt again.

“But where will I live?”

“Here, in Hogwarts Harry. Where we can keep you safe and see that no one hurts you ever again.” Poppy said softly.

“Aunt Petunia, she always… they always believe her. Never listen to me. She says I’m a liar.”

“Harry, look at me.” said Professor Snape. “Last night, I and another Professor visited your Aunt. We gave her a potion that made her tell the truth. She couldn’t lie to us. She confessed everything.”

“What if they don’t believe you?” whimpered Harry. Nice Miss Jones had believed him and, one morning soon after, she hadn’t turned up at school. Rumour had it that she’d been sacked.

“If ‘they’ don’t believe me, then ‘they’ can give her some truth potion and hear it for themselves.” Severus replied softly. “But whether ‘they’ believe me or not no longer matters; this decree is unbreakable. No one can overrule or change it, Harry. No one.”

Harry gulped, he was trembling. It was too good to be true. Freaks like him didn’t deserve this.

Severus summoned his teapot, some cups and a sugar-basin. The tea-set was his personal favourite; the pot itself was a handsome, black enamelled affair, with delicate gilding, and each tea-cup was a different, jewel-like colour. It had been a wedding gift from his father to his mother. He selected his favourite, absinthe green tea-cup and filled it with tea and added a couple of teaspoons of sugar. He tapped the cup, casting a mild cooling charm “Here, Harry.”

Harry took the saucer and bowed his head, tears splashing into his tea. He was safe. He was truly safe. His Aunt could never touch him again.

Madam Pomfrey stood up and carefully approached the sobbing child, she took the saucer out of his unresisting hands and, slowly, gently, as one would with a scared and injured animal, took him into her arms, rocking him slowly. Harry stiffened, then relaxed into her embrace and wept with wild abandon.

Professor Snape summoned a large chocolate gateau. The Potions Master was not a man accustomed to giving or receiving comfort and, therefore, found situations such as this uncomfortable. However, as Basilisk, he had a duty to nurture his snakelets and, occasionally, it fell to him to dry tears, sooth ruffled feelings and stick a metaphorical plaster on bruised hearts. Over the years he had found that food, in particular cake, was generally a decent distraction from even the most pressing of children’s woes. Food equals energy equals warmth and, when a child felt their life unravelling, a bit of warmth generally didn’t go amiss. When the violence of Harry’s distress had faded, Severus cut the boy a large slice.

“Come on, Harry, have a bit of cake, there’s a lad.” said Poppy, handing him a fork. “Severus, I mean Professor Snape would really like some cake but, as he’s your host, he can’t start on a piece until you do.”

Harry gave a watery smile and took a mouthful of squidgy icing.

“And now some tea.”

By the time that Harry had finished his cake and tea, his breathing had calmed and, judging by his embarrassed expression, he had gained his senses.

“The lavatory’s behind the door next to the picture of the snakes, Harry. You will feel better if you wash your face.”

When Harry had traipsed into the lavatory, Severus poured Poppy a cup of tea and patted her on the shoulder, looking sympathetic. They had been through similar situations before; thankfully, it was a rare occurrence but, Severus felt, however often one had to do this office, it wouldn’t get any easier. He strode over to his desk and took out three vials of Snape’s Serum. It was one of the first potions he’d invented- hence the egotistical title- designed to ward off the stress headaches to which the young Severus had been prone.

Severus gave one vial to Madam Pomfrey. She smiled sadly and clinked her vial against his. “Bottoms up, Severus. Here’s to never having to do this again.”
Severus nodded and swallowed his own vial. As he did so, Harry came out of the lavatory, looking shy and very conscious.

“Come, Mr. Potter. We have a couple of things still to discuss.” Severus said in a neutral tone, waving Harry into a seat.

“Firstly, Mr. Potter, I would like you to take this potion” Severus held up the vial “It contains a headache reliever.”

“Yes Sir” Harry gratefully took the vial and swallowed it. If he cried, he always got really bad headaches.

Oh God. He had just bawled in Madam Pomfrey’s arms. In front of Professor Snape.

“You know, Mr. Potter, if I had a Galleon for every time a child cried in this office, I could gild Hogwarts seven times over.” Severus said gently. “I have had Seventh Years, boys of seventeen, weep in here and often for much less reason than you.”

“Your tears are a natural, Harry,” added Madam Pomfrey “You have no reason to feel ashamed.”

Harry looked down at his knees “It wasn’t so bad, you know. I mean, I had food and Aunt Petunia didn’t hit me all the time. And the chores, well, someone had to do them and, as Aunt Petunia was paying so much to keep me, I had to repay her somehow, right.”

Poppy’s mouth thinned and her hands bunched up in her lap. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Mr Potter, she should not have hit you at all." said Professor Snape firmly "Anyone who is violent towards children is behaving reprehensibly and no one, for any reason, should hit a child hard enough to leave a mark. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” replied Harry quietly. He couldn’t help but think, however, that a few times he had deserved it. Like when he mistook his aunt’s orchids for weeds. That had been naughty, right? And how about when he burnt the breakfast, wasting food. Or that time he’d knocked over the vase. He shouldn’t have been so thoughtless and clumsy.

“Moreover,” continued Severus “your Aunt was paid a substantial amount of money by the Ministry of Magic, to cover your food and other needs. However, had she not been paid a knut, she should still have given you three full meals a day and allowed you to sleep in a proper bed.”

Harry glanced up, his cheeks burning with shame.

Severus’s dark eyes narrowed “You have no cause to be embarrassed, Mr Potter. The shame is entirely your Aunt’s.”

“It’s not her fault if she couldn’t love me.” Harry whispered with tears in his eyes “I’m a nasty, little, scrawny unnatural thing. Not like Dudley. And I’m bad luck. My parents died because of me. And uncle Vernon.”

“Your parents died, Harry, because an evil man decided to kill them.” Professor Snape said, in a tone which would brook on opposition. “Your Uncle died because a lorry driver, stupidly, decided to drive his vehicle whilst drunk and lost control at the wheel. Neither event had anything to with you.”

“And” said Madam Pomfrey “You were an adorable baby, Harry. Your parents loved you, as did all the staff when your Mum and Dad visited Hogwarts to show you off. They were so proud of you.”

“Your Uncle also loved you.” Severus added softly “Your Aunt told me so last night. Petunia was the unnatural one. No normal person could or would treat any child like that.”

Harry blinked rapidly, desperately trying not to cry.

“Oh, don’t bottle it up, dear boy.” Said Madam Pomfrey, kneeling down and putting her arms around Harry. “Let it out. Let it all out.”

"I don’t care if she’s a muggleborn, Pansy! My mother was a muggleborn.”

“Well, at least your mother bothered to assimilate herself into our world. She knew her place and didn’t constantly show off!”

“Knew her place!”

Harry had hoped, as he walked back from his ‘detention’, that the other first years would be occupied enough to allow him to sneak to bed. He has a nasty taste in his mouth from the potions (which even a huge slab of cake couldn’t totally erase), his mended bones ached and there was a nasty tightness in his throat and chest.

However, when Harry opened the Door into the common room and almost stepped into Pansy and Daphne’s hissed argument, it struck him that, in a place such as Hogwarts, one should be careful in choosing one’s wishes.

As Harry slipped past the snarling girls, he saw that, in the corner of the common room, where a few chairs were gathered around one of the smaller fireplaces, Hermione was sitting, crying. Tracy Davies patted her hand sympathetically and Blaise was leaning forward in his chair, talking to Hermione earnestly. Draco and Theo hung hesitantly a yard or so behind Hermione’s chair; Theo was looking guilty, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and Draco appeared torn between joining Blaise and Tracy in comforting the weeping girl or running away.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked Draco softly.

“Um, well, the Mu, I mean Hermione’s been having a hard time.” confided Draco. “It’s about, you know, what happened earlier today.”

“The Gryffs have turned on her.” said Theo miserably “Calling her names and pushing her around and stuff. And then, just when Daff and Blaise got her calmed down, I opened my big gob and set her off again.”

“Girls are sensitive” said Greg Goyle quietly, he was sitting on the floor in a huddle with Vincent Crabbe and Millicent, ostensibly playing cards. “I put me foot in it all the time. Best if the likes of us say nowt and let Blaise do the talking.”

Theo looked slightly offended with being classed, in intellectual terms, with Vin and Greg. However, after a moment he sighed and said “Yeah, well, Dad says if I’ve got any muggle in me, it’s the bit responsible for diplomacy.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry looked over at Hermione, who was still sniffling, and caught Blaise’s eye. Blaise jerked his head significantly and Harry obediently walked over and sat down beside him.

“Hermione, I don’t think you’ve met Harry. He’s our resident bookworm. Say ‘hello’ to the nice lady, Wormy.” Blaise said, in a gently playful tone. Hermione looked up and gave a watery grin.

“Hi.” Harry smiled: there was something infectious about Blaise’s good-humoured irreverence.

“The girls in Hermione’s dorm have been rather unpleasant to her, so she’s stopping with us for the evening.”

“They burnt my textbooks” whispered Hermione in a quivering voice “and... and my parents are muggles, they can’t get to Diagon Alley! And I can’t even Owl-Order my b..books because I d...don’t have any Galleons! And they said that if I t...told any of the teachers, it wouldn’t j…just be my books!” the girl sobbed “They made fun of my hair and my teeth and they called me a mm…mudblood!”

Harry looked over at Blaise, appalled. Blaise gave him an old fashioned look “And they call us the bigots, Harry.”

Harry sat and thought for a minute. He knew, from personal experience, that, if someone warned you not to tell and you told, then you’d only get it worse. Although the girls were only children, as opposed to adults like Aunt Petunia, it sounded as if there were a number of them and Harry also knew that when Social Services heard Dudley back up his mother’s story, they believed Dudley and Petunia because it was two people’s words against his.

But, and it was a big but, Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey had discovered what was happening to Harry without Harry even saying anything to them. And they had that truth potion; they could give it to the Gryff girls. And Hermione looked like she needed a hug and Harry couldn’t give it to her because he might look a perv and, if he told anyone else to give her a hug, he’d definitely look a perv. Madam Pomfrey, however, knew when and how to give out hugs.

“Blaise, we’ve got to get Professor Snape.” Harry said earnestly.

“Nnnooo” whimpered Hermione. “They’ll be even worse if we tell. They said they would.” Tracy pressed her hand, looking sad.

“But, Professor Snape’ll protect you!” said Harry “He…” Harry hesitated, no, he couldn’t tell her that! “He said at start of term he protects his students.”

“But I’m not his student. Everyone says he hates Gryffindors.” wailed the weeping girl.

“By ‘everyone’ you mean ‘every Gryffindor’.” Draco drawled, leaning on the back of Harry’s chair “but they would, considering how Gryff’s treat us ‘slimy snakes’. My father, who is Professor Snape’s particular friend, says that our Head of House hates bullying with a vengeance.”

“See, Hermione?” said Harry.

“But… but he can’t protect me all the time.” replied Hermione desperately “I have to share a dorm with them!” Tracy put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Blaise nodded, apparently deep in thought.

“But, can’t they just put you somewhere else?” asked Harry. This seemed so unfair. If Professor Snape could get Harry away from the Dursleys, he could surely help Hermione?

“You mean re-sort her into a different House?” Malfoy raised a blond eyebrow “Well, it has been done but not for at least fifty years.”

“Why did the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor, Hermione?” asked Blaise. “It always discusses it’s reasoning, or so I’ve heard.”

The girl blushed and her eyes darted to Harry. “It, er, said I was brave.” She muttered, studying the carpet industriously.

Blaise looked at her inquiringly. Then his eyebrows rose. “Ah,” a grin played at the corners of his mouth “I guess it’s just a pity that your surname’s not Quentin.”

Hermione looked up, her brown eyes wide but, seeing only kindly amusement in Blaise’s eyes, she blushed a rosy red. “Something like that, yes.”

“Wha…”

“The Quentins are a traditionally Ravenclaw family, Draco; very daring theorists, I hear.” Blaise said quickly “Now, if we can get you re-sorted, you need to think where you would be best placed. From what I’ve heard, you are very bright so Ravenclaw is definitely an option…”

“But Padma, Parvati’s sister is in Ravenclaw” moaned Hermione.

“Yes and the Eagles aren’t a very snugly bunch. High IQs and, generally speaking, quite low EIs.” added Tracy.

“What does that mean?” queried Draco.

“It means people like me.” muttered Theo “‘IQ’ is ‘intelligence quotient’ and ‘EI’ stands for ‘emotional intelligence’. A high IQ means that you are intelligent and a high EI means that you know how to talk to people without upsetting them.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry I got upset earlier” said Hermione quietly “I know you were just trying to being kind when you said it shouldn’t matter to them if I was a mm…mudblood.”

“Yeah… well” replied Theo, flushing and buried his hands deep into his pockets.

“Anyway,” said Blaise smoothly “I think that Hufflepuff is probably a good bet. Although the Puffies may have the reputation for being ‘nice but dim’, they have their share of bright students and, with their sense of fair-play and loyalty, they can be pretty fierce in defence of their own.”

“Or” Draco said hesitantly “Perhaps Slytherin.” Theo and Blaise looked, incredulously, at the scion of the proud, pureblood and exceptionally prejudiced house of Malfoy. Draco doggedly continued “Mu…uggle-borns are rare in this House, it’s true, but we have had one or two over the years. We’re quite… welcoming of muggleborns who wish to properly assimilate themselves into the Wizarding world.” Draco sighed. He hoped Daddy, ah, I mean Father, wouldn’t think he had gone too far.

“And,” continued Blaise thoughtfully “even Slytherin and Gryffindor were, at one time, fast friends and Gryffindor was a muggle-born.”

“The Puffies tend to have classes with the Ravenclaws” ventured Theo. “Er, Padma Patil.”

“And she does know us all now.” said Daphne, who had joined Tracy in comforting Hermione.

“What’s happening here?!” Demanded Pansy, marching up with an ill tempered expression.

“Hermione’s being re-sorted into Slytherin.” said Theo firmly.

“Wha..?”

“Leave it, Pansy.” Draco said quietly.

“Oh, I see” said Pansy narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me, I’m going to finish my homework.”

As she flounced off, Millicent lumbered to her feet and headed after her. Blaise rubbed his temples.

“I suppose someone ought to find Professor Snape.”

oOoOo

When the motley group of first years reached the Professor’s office, however, their pounding on his door met with no answer. The Potions Master was, in fact, many miles south, in Surrey.

Charity and Poppy emerged from the Order’s Surrey ‘safe-house’, self-consciously adjusting their Police uniforms.

“You look good in a suit, Sev.” Chuckled Poppy, beholding Severus’ expertly tailored tweed suit, complete with leather patches on the elbows.

“That’s DI Snape to you, P.C. Pomfrey.”

Charity laughed and transfigured the Bentley into a Police car, complete with flashing blue lights and siren.

As Salazar Slytherin wrote “Yif they bey prod of beying Godd-fering, lorefulle folke, lette alles beyholde ays thye brynngeth thee khyrch und thee kyngs menne unto thyme.”

Severus Snape was going to give the neighbours of ‘law-abiding’, ‘God-fearing’ Petunia Dursley the show of their lives.

oOoOo

Charity, who had drawn the short straw, stood outside 4 Privet Drive, by the police car. Concerned neighbours approached her, fearing bad news for “poor Mrs Dursley”.

They were yet more delighted when Charity tersely replied “There’s been no accident that I’ve heard of. Move along now, please, ladies and gentlemen.”

Several law-abiding citizens returned to their houses. Several pristine net curtains twitched in several neat, tidy houses. Several pairs of eyes lit up with glee as Mrs Dursley- who would have thought of it? She seemed so normal, so respectable- was led to the Police car in handcuffs.

When Dudley Dursley returned home at nine, Mrs Alsopp, kindly soul that she was, called round with a plate of hot dinner for him- no trouble, she always cooked more than she needed for her husband and herself.

Dudley invited her in and she was treated to a tale of neglect so deliciously, juicily scandalous that it beat anything in the gossip mags. Petunia Dursley, who they all thought was one of them, was as unnatural as any woman who ever walked the earth. She had neglected her nephew shamefully. Starved him, beat him, used him as a skivvy- young as he was- and locked him, actually locked him, a child, in the cupboard under the stairs! It were only a little cupboard and all, unfit for a even dog!

Dudley- he wasn’t a bright boy but his heart was in the right place- was thoroughly disgusted with his mother: he said that a woman who could treat a child as she did his brother- bless him- was no family of his. And that Vernon- God rest his soul- he hadn’t known what that deceitful cow was doing or he wouldn’t have stood for it. But poor Harry and Dudley were too scared to even squeak: Petunia'd poured bleach down Harry’s throat once, when he threatened to go to the law. No wonder the boys were scared of the evil wretch.

At the ‘Golden Lion’ that night, Mrs Alsopp, Mrs Polkiss, Ms Jones and the Misses Drakes were amazed and gratified to learn that they all suspected something amiss about the Dursley situation. “Would a young hooligan- as the unnatural cow had styled her nephew- have worked on the flowerbeds all of a Saturday morning and washed the outside windows and the car every Sunday?” asked Mrs Jones. The ladies were delighted to discover that they had all wondered, at one point or another, why it was always Harry- and Harry alone- seen doing the chores. Poor little orphan. To use her sister’s son, her own flesh and blood, in such a manner. Well, it was awful, weren’t it?

And the ladies, each and every one of them, had noticed the poor boys’ thinness; obviously not getting enough to eat, the poor lad. She beat him too- her son said so. It must be such a relief for poor young Dudley, commented Mrs Polkiss, having his wicked mother was behind bars. She threatened to dose him with bleach, like she did with Harry. Oh, yes, that was no accident. Awful how she duped so many people, her own husband included.

All in all, it was criminal how many people missed the signs. After all, as Miss Janice Drake observed, there was that thing in Mrs Dursley’s eyes… Well, none of them had liked her and it were just a shame that they were all too afraid of judging harshly, of seeing harm where there was none, or the evil woman would have been locked up long ago.

OoOoO

At the Surrey safe house, Severus pondered. Petunia loved- as much as such a woman could love- her son and highly valued her reputation. These were what the blasted woman cherished most and Severus had done his level best to deprive her of both, hopefully causing no small amount of misery. However, it felt insufficient to simply to make her a pariah: after all, Petunia could always move away and, possibly, even find another man short-sighted enough marry her and father her children. It felt appropriate that her punishment should be of a more permanent and inescapable nature.

Severus leafed through “Thee Dutie of Thee Basilysk”. He had always enjoyed reading the section entitled “Onne Uynatturel Harpyes.” Salazar Slytherin had a truly unique, albeit dark sense of humour. He liked the punishment to fit the crime.

In this chapter there were three levels of offence; ‘Imyperfect und neglygnt dyschage of dutie (neglect), ‘Unkyndlinesse’ (abuse), and ‘Uynatturel Beyhaviyr’ (serious abuse). Although Petunia Dursleys behaviour certainly slotted into the third section, most of those spells were designed to kill or seriously maim and 1. Petunia Dursley did not deserve the kindly embrace of death and 2. if Severus maimed her, Dumbledore would be difficult.

Therefore, the spells designed to punish ‘Unkyndlinesse’ would have to do. However, this section did contain some lovely, imaginative little jinxes, hexes and curses so, really, it was no hardship- for him at least. For example, Salazar was strongly of the belief that a woman who abused or consented to the abuse of children should bear none of her own. However, to simply strike such a creature with infertility was a more suitable punishment for a neglectful mother or guardian; one who actually caused or encouraged harm to children deserved to be made barren in a somewhat more… inventive manner.

“Unkyndlie wyfes maye be accyrsd wyith thee cyrse of Eeyve, soes thyre mensys be purpetyal and eyverlaysting, brynyng greet shayme unto theyme ays thee Byble sayth thayt, ayt thee tyme whyn a wyfe bleedeth, shye bey unkleyn.”

Although society- thank the Gods- no longer considered women to be ‘unclean’ during their period, Severus thought that this spell had stood the test of time rather well; it still equated to permanent infertility and a perpetual bleed was both embarrassing and inconvenient. Especially for prissy women like Petunia.

Inspiration struck. Ah, yes, the ‘personal hygiene’ spells. Salazar had a rather comprehensive array of jinxes which were designed to make one just as beautiful on the outside as one was within.

Severus flicked to the ‘Iymperfct dyschage’ section. Here it was; the ‘vermyn of thee quent’ or, as someone had thoughtfully annotated, ‘pubic lice’ curse. (The annotation was in the same hand as the little note under the frontispiece: ‘If you cannot understand Professor Slytherin’s description of the spell’s effects, do not cast the spell on yourself. It is better to shew your ignorance to the librarian than to shew your privies to the Healer!”)

Then there was another hex for ‘laynk und fowyl hair’ and one which caused, in the writers own words, ‘breythe ays fowyl und ryank ays thee mydden yn sommer.’

Severus Snape smiled and twirled his wand between his fingers, hexing Petunia bald was so 1972.

OoOoO

“You can’t leave me here with that monster! I’d rather throw my lot in with you wizards!” Growled Dudley to Severus, who- having returned Petunia to Privet drive- was standing back, enjoying the show.

“Dudders! Please! You can’t mean that!” bawled Petunia.

Dudley turned and looked at her, disgust narrowing his piggy eyes to slits. “You disgust me.”

“Dudders!”

“Mr. Dursley, we can, should you so wish, remove you into the custody of a Mrs. Figg, she is a squib, by which I mean…”

“Dudley! You can’t be serious! You don’t want to go with those freaks. I’m your mother! You love me!”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the freak.” Spat Dudley. “I don’t care where I go, as long as it’s not here.”

“Very well young man. Show me to your room and I’ll help you to pack your belongings.”

“Don’t go with him Dudders. He’s a… he’s a paedophile.” Petunia shrieked.

Petunia should have been grateful that Severus limited himself to just cursing off her lying tongue.

They stumbled across the grounds, almost asleep on their feet, envying Charity who, having no lessons the next morning, had volunteered to stop with Dudley Dursley at the Order’s Manchester safe-house. They were probably already tucked up in their respective beds, lucky sods.

In the entrance hall, Severus and Poppy parted company and the Potions Master was too tired- honestly too tired- to even remonstrate when Poppy kissed him smack on the nose as she bid him goodnight. Insane old bint. Even though it was a bloody fine nose.

Okay, now, along the corridor, almost half-way now. Good old legs! Nice and long, just like legs ought to be. Down the stairs, just one more flight of the buggers now. Whoever thought stairs were a good idea should be shot. Just one more corridor. Nearly there. Oh, he could almost those soft, silk sheets sliding over his weary body. Ah, now, just around the corner…

Were a dozen or so first years, looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes and happy little smiles.

Bloody. Buggering. Hell.

OoOoO

“I like your haircut, Sir.”

“Whazzat?”

“Your hair, it looks nice.”

“Thank you, Draco. Now, if you don’t bug… I mean if you don’t leave me in peace to find my so…, my sugaring Invigoration Draught, I’ll skin you alive and use your hide for a bl… blacking sleeping bag.” Severus muttered, rooting around in his potions cupboard.

“Is he always like this?” whispered Hermione, who was standing towards the back of the gaggle of first years.

“No” hissed Harry “I think he’s just really tired or something.”

Severus finally grabbed a vial and downed it, shivering at the obnoxious taste. Somnolent neurons fired into life and Severus felt rational thought flooding back into his poor, battered brain. He spun around, bright eyed.

“And what, may I ask, are you all doing in my office when curfew began over two hours ago?”

“Please, Professor,” said Daphne “We’ve been waiting for you for hours! Since nine!”

“And what, pray was so important that you decided to spend all evening camped outside my office door?”

“It’s Hermione Granger” replied Blaise.

“A Gryffindor? Surely, then, Professor McGonagall could have dealt with this?”

“Well, we considered that” continued Blaise “but Harry, he insisted that we wait for you.”

“Did he indeed” said Severus, quirking an eyebrow in the direction of bespectacled green eyes. “Come here then, Mr. Potter, and you too Ms Granger” he added, noticing the head of bushy brown hair.

Severus conjured a number of squishy, green leather pouffes. “I imagine that this cannot wait until a civilised hour?”

“No sir” said Draco, looking his godfather square in the eye.

“Sit. Talk.”

And so he heard the sorry tale. The burnt books, the name calling, the threats, the tears, Ms Greengrass finding Hermione sobbing behind a pile of books in the library, the conversation in the Serpents Nest …

“And so, Sir,” finished Draco “We all thought, if Hermione could possibly be re-sorted…”

Severus, his chin resting upon his hand, smiled, his dark eyes glittering in amusement. “And into which House do you, by which I mean Ms Granger naturally, where do you think she should be sorted.”

“Well, that’s up to the Hat, obviously” said Blaise, with a butter-would-not-melt expression.

“Ms Granger may very well be inducted into Slytherin” Severus added, looking around for signs of dissent. Every expression- even Ms Parkinson’s- conveyed, at worst, indifference and, at best, positive delight. Malfoy’s countenance, interestingly enough, veered towards the latter. Quite a one for adopting waifs and strays, that lad.

“Very well. I suppose I shall have to floo the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall.” said Severus, straightening up. “Mr Potter, Ms Granger, if you could remain. Mr Malfoy, would you be so good as to escort your year-mates to the Serpents’ Nest?”

“Yes Sir” beamed Draco. Severus returned the boy’s artless smile; Malfoys were easy enough to manipulate, one simply had to ensure that they felt sufficiently important!

OoOoO

As Hermione explained her predicament to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in the Headmaster’s Study, Severus and Harry ate a midnight snack by the Potion Master’s office fire. Severus had fire-called the kitchens and ordered a large platter of spinach, gruyere and egg mayonnaise sandwiches, a flagon of butterbeer and a couple of apple turnovers.

When Harry was, somewhat self-consciously, munching on a sandwich, Severus said “I find myself wondering, Mr. Potter, why you insisted upon waiting over three hours to speak to me when you could have taken Ms Granger’s predicament to Professor McGonagall.”

Harry, looking worried, attempted to swallow his mouthful too quickly. Lest the boy choke, Severus briskly continued “I am not displeased, I hasten to add, merely curious.”

“Well, Sir,” Harry said “You… I mean, no one else has ever… They always believed Aunt Petunia, Professor, but then you made Aunt Petunia tell the truth and now I am a Ward of Hogwarts!”

“As erudite as ever, Mr. Potter.” Although Professor Snape’s mouth sneered, Harry had already learnt to look at his eyes, which were warm as coals.

“I thought, I mean, I knew that you would know that Hermione was telling the truth.” said Harry shyly “The Gryff girls, they would have all lied to help each other.”

“I expect that they would and, indeed, will, Mr. Potter, when Professor McGonagall addresses them tomorrow morning.” said Severus, pouring Harry another glass of butterbeer.

“But you can give them truth potion, can’t you Sir?” replied Harry brightly.

“Alas, Veritiserum is a regulated potion, which means that I cannot give it to children. However, Professor McGonagall is a very experienced Head of House and, as sophisticated as the Gryffindor first years may think they are, she will easily be able to tell who is lying and who is in earnest.”

“Oh. Um, Sir?”

“Yes Mr. Potter” said Severus, offering him an apple turnover.

“Er… I was wondering; how did you know that Aunt Petunia was…”

“neglecting and abusing you?” the Potions Master added, having waited in vain for Harry to finish his sentence. “Quite easily, Harry. Madam Pomfrey’s spirit familiar- a Snake of Asclepius- recorded every injury that your body has ever received and, on the basis of these results, the Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey and I decided that we needed to investigate further.”

“What will happen to Aunt Petunia?” asked Harry in a small voice.

Severus raised an eyebrow “Considerably less than she deserves. She has lost custody of her son, Dudley, and her precious reputation is in tatters.”

“But Dudley loves Aunt Petunia.” Gasped Harry, looking horrified. “He’ll be dead upset.”

“Dudley, in fact, asked to be removed from your Aunt’s care.” Severus replied “He realised that the way in which your Aunt treated you was very wicked.”

“But, Dudley always backed Aunt Petunia up. And he hated me too; he called me a freak and he and his friends used to gang up on me and hit me and call me names.”

Sins of the fathers should not be visited onto the sons.

“I think” said Professor Snape carefully “that, after walking a mile in your shoes, young Mr. Dursley came to understand that his mother was turning him into someone he did not like.”

Harry looked at him, his green eyes wide.

“No harm has come to the great brute, Mr. Potter. I do not hex children” sighed Severus “I merely cast an epiphany spell, one which allowed your cousin to dream- just for one night- that he lived your life at 4 Privet Drive. It was a nightmare and a highly unpleasant one but the long term benefits are incalculable. To grow up with such a distorted view of right and wrong, would you wish it on your worst enemy?”

“No Sir.”

At that moment, Hermione skipped out of the floo, followed by the sedate Dumbledore, whose blue robes were hemmed, Severus noted, by the end of his purple plaid nightgown.

“Harry! The hat sorted me into Slytherin!” Hermione cried ecstatically “And Professor McGonagall, she gave me her own copies of the first year text books! To keep! They have notes and everything!”

Severus raised an eyebrow at the headmaster, who returned his smirk.

“And now, children, it is high time you were in bed.” said Professor Dumbledore, looking at the happy, excited pair. “Chop, chop. We want those heads on pillows sometime before dawn if you please.”

“Given the lateness of the hour, you can floo.” said Severus to Harry and Hermione, taking a small, mother of pearl box from his mantelpiece.

“How do we, uh, ‘flew’, Sir? Only we don’t have brooms.” said Harry nervously

“Floo is spelt with a double ‘O’, Mr. Potter. You take a pinch of this powder” Severus opened the box “throw it into the fire, wait for the flames to turn green and step in, saying the name of your destination. In this case, Slytherin Common Room.”

“Oh! Cool, Sir.”

“And I shall expect to see you all for breakfast in the Great Hall at eight o’clock. Tonight, due to the particular circumstances, I have been indulgent but, from now on, late night escapades are strictly forbidden. If I catch any of you out of bed after nine pm, that is to say twenty-one hours on the twenty-four hour clock, you shall be very sorry children indeed.”

“Yes Sir,” said Hermione primly.

“Thank you, Sir” beamed Harry.

“Off with you. And tell your Dorm mates that, if they are not in bed in five minutes I shall have you all preparing the most slimy, stinking ingredients I can lay my hands on.”

“Yes Sir, Goodnight Sir. Goodnight Professor Dumbledore.”

“Goodnight children” replied the Headmaster cheerfully.

Severus let them each take a pinch of floo powder and, after seeing them safely through the fire, sat down in the chair opposite the Headmaster.

“Well, my boy, Slytherin is obviously the House to watch this year.”

Severus summoned a pot of Earl Grey and, after pouring a cup for himself and Albus (the latter’s being liberally dosed with honey), said, smiling “I really think they’re taking the rule of House Unity to heart; usually it merely prevents outward forces dividing them to their detriment. This Year, however, seem to have forged themselves into a seamless political machine. Quite disturbing really, given their young age.”

“Don’t be too worried, Severus” said Albus, pouring more honey into his already fairly viscous tea “There are two natural leaders- Harry and Draco- whose family allegiances are, moreover, very different. And the Zabini’s are known for following their own stars.”

Deep in thought, Severus reached up to twine his fingers in his hair. Damn, he’d forgotten to re-grow it.

“Oh, and Severus, do I want to know why your hair is unprecedentedly short?” asked Albus, looking at his Potions Professor over half-moon spectacles.

“Probably not Headmaster.”

OoOoO

In the First Year Slytherin boys’ Dorm, Harry, tucked up in his bed, watched the beautiful, white spirit-deer as it picked its way around the room, checking on each of the boys.

Hogwarts was great.

To: Draco Malfoy
From: Daddy

Dearest Dragon,

Well, you certainly have been busy. I am very pleased to hear that your friendship with Harry is progressing so well; he will be a very valuable ally. Moreover, one who is in a position to advise young Mr. Potter will have no small degree of influence.

I also commend your chivalrous behaviour towards Ms Granger and your foresight; by suggesting that a muggleborn be re-sorted into Slytherin, you will certainly convince an unbiased observer that we are not unfairly prejudiced towards those who have not had the benefit of being born into a respectable family. I am fully confident, my Dragon, in your judgement and I am satisfied that you will ensure that Ms Granger does not discredit our noble House.

‘A consummate potioneer’? That is high praise, indeed, from such a master as Professor Snape. It also pleases me to hear that Professor Snape relied on you to lead your fellow First Years back to the Serpent’s Nest; Malfoys are, indeed, natural leaders but, to be distinguished so early is gratifying. I am very proud of your progress.

Your idea of a study group is very worthy. There is, naturally, much which mere books cannot teach and, as long as the distinction of rank is maintained, it is highly laudable when muggleborns strive to integrate into magical society. Indeed, if Ms Granger is intelligent and has due respect for her social superiors, she could even be a positive addition to some worthy, mixed-blood family.

I will happily supply you with an assortment of well known brands. However, as I am more than capable of shrinking larger items, I have, rather than packing sweets (as you suggested in your previous letter), included, instead, an assortment of fruits, vegetables, preserved goods and other household items.

Mummy sends her love,

Xxx Daddy

oOoOo

“First years! In here quick!” squeaked Draco, sticking his head out of the boy’s dorm, his eyes alight with joy.

When the little snakes and snakettes entered the dorm, they were confronted with a wondrous sight: on the floor lay a soft, green picnic rug covered with every sort of sweet, cake and biscuit made by Wizarding manufacture. Propped up against a bed were half a dozen bottles of pop, butterbeer and pumpkin juice and a large, metal carton- on top of which- promisingly- was an ice-cream scoop.

Draco grinned and held out a handful of silver spoons and crystal glasses “Whose for ice-cream?!”

Hogwarts fare was generally of the ‘meat and two veg’ variety; children rarely chose food of a piscine nature- not without a wand against their little necks- so the house-elves tended to buy in very little fish. It was a waste of galleons and effort.

However, towards the second week of term, Severus noticed a marked increase of fishy fare. For example, at breakfast one morning there were not just kippers but also kedgeree at the Teachers’ Table. Kippers! A big steaming plate of them right by his place! Severus levitated the obnoxious things to the other end of the table and poured himself a large cup of strong coffee, all appetite gone.

Then, at lunch a day later, there was a big, steaming vat of bouillabaisse. Again right by his plate. And a large side of salmon appeared that night at supper.

Every day it got worse and worse, with more and more meals being infiltrated by fish pies, fish tacos, fish sticks, fish and chips… even lobsters, crabs and calamari made their way onto the Teachers’ Table.

The sushi was the final straw; Severus had a firm word with the Headmaster and told him that, if he wanted Severus to keep an eye on Quirell during mealtimes, then he’d ensure that no more fish dishes arrived on the Top Table.

OoOoO

And then, in week four, the whistling began.

“Gonna hava fishie onya little dishie, gonna hava fishie, when the boat comes in.”

Where in blue blazes had the students picked that one up? There were very few children from sea-side towns and, therefore, nautical airs were as uncommon as diplomatic Gryffindors in the corridors of Hogwarts.

However, once someone, some soon-to-be very unlucky student, had whistled the shanty, it seemed to pass from mind to mind, like a contagious disease.

It soon reached the stage where a single hour couldn’t pass without someone whistling, humming or tapping it out within hearing distance. Even the Staff Room wasn’t safe: Hagrid, Vector and- worse- Quirell- seemed to be unable to breathe without whistling it!

oOoOo

Harry was not having a much easier time of things either. Hogwarts was still great. His new friends were the best: Draco looked out for him and gave him advice, Theo and Hermione were wonderful study-buddies and Blaise was just generally a great mate- he had even managed to tame Harry’s wild hair with some special magical serum.

Classes were interesting and Harry was progressing so well in Potions that Snape barely had much to say to him other than ‘Well done’ or ‘Good work’.

And Harry hadn’t even had a cross word from a teacher: as a conscientious student, Harry always completed his assignments on time and to a good standard. He had little chance otherwise to get into trouble: the Gryffs had decided that discretion was the better part of valour, having been treated to one of Professor McGonagalls' ‘special lectures’, a remonstrance from the Headmaster, a letter home to their parents (which had invoked a number of furious howlers) and, last but not least, a couple of weeks of ‘nasty Snape’. Neville Longbottom was the exception but, since he was nice to Harry and Hermione and cautiously courteous to their fellow Slyths, that was a more of a benefit than a hindrance.

And yet, Harry found himself thinking more and more on bad things. He knew- in his head- that Draco, Blaise, Theo and Hermione really cared about him and he was popular enough amongst the other Slytherin First Years; no one ever had an unfriendly word. But, in his heart, Harry felt that he wasn’t really a good sort of person. His Aunt had to have had a reason to hate him so much. Otherwise, she'd have loved Harry as she did Dudley. Or at least liked him. One of the reasons might be that Harry’d survived when her sister had died. And he’d never been a pretty, happy child, now, had he? He'd been difficult and a burden. It really wasn’t Aunt Petunia’s fault if she couldn’t love him and now, because of him, she’d lost Dudley, who she did love. Surely he should have felt more guilt about that, shouldn’t he? It didn’t say much about Harry as a person, did it?

And, even though Professor Snape had done all those things to help Harry, he’d never even thanked him. He just took it all as if it was his right. Maybe that’s why Professor Snape didn’t speak much to him now. Maybe he thought Harry was ungrateful? Harry had tried to say ‘thanks’ to Professor Snape once or twice but it was dead awkward and, the longer he left it, the more awkward it became. And it was definitely too late now.

Professor Quirell, too, seemed to think that there was something ‘off’ about Harry. From the very beginning, he had looked at Harry funny, like he was a bit of dog shit which the Professor was seriously considering scooping up and dumping outside- if he could bring himself to bear to touch it. It kinda made sense, in a way. Professor Quirell was ‘Defence Against the Dark Arts’ and Harry. Well, how could a mere baby murder a full-grown wizard like Voldemort if he wasn’t also dark?

As the days passed, the despair ate away at Harry’s soul. The nights were worst. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, brooding over his faults and shortcomings and the devastating effects they’d have once Draco, Blaise, Theo and Hermione discovered what Professor Snape had; that Harry was a thoughtless, unfeeling, ungrateful little bastard. They wouldn’t want to know him. Harry could almost hear the ticking of the time-bomb.

One day, Harry noticed that Draco and Blaise had started whispering together, stopping whenever Harry approached. They’d force smiles and ask him how he was doing. Harry, anxious not to force his presence where it was not wanted, began working in unused classrooms at breaks and lunch-times and until curfew in the evenings. He didn’t mind missing meals, he had little appetite these days.

And, slowly, Harry noticed Professor Snape getting more and more short with him. He no longer smiled at Harry when he came into class, merely nodded with a strained look on his face. There were no more ‘Well dones’ or ‘Good Jobs’ either and the notes on his essays were blunt and to the point. Professor Snape, who was so good at spotting liars, must have seen behind Harry’s mask to the black, shrivelled soul. Harry couldn’t blame him for being disgusted.

Then, the rest of the teachers started looking at him strangely, their eyes following him as he walked around. They must know.

By the time that they were six weeks into the Autumn term, all the Slytherin First Years were whispering about him as he passed. Even Crabbe and Goyle. What he was must be really obvious. It was only a matter of time before Professor Snape told him that he had to leave, that they couldn't let someone like Harry be around respectable folk.

Harry didn’t know what he’d do when the bomb went off.

OoOoO

“Sev’rus?”

A warm hand on his shoulder and the scent of Old Spice “Hmm… Da?”

“No, Sev’rus, it me, Hagrid.” Severus cracked open an eye and groaned. He had fallen asleep in a staff-room armchair. Where everyone could see him!

Since the dreams started, the ones about his father, Severus Snape hadn’t been sleeping too well. Having to be around at all hours to keep an eye on blasted Quirrel didn’t help either.

Hagrid sat down next to him “Ah’m a little worried ‘bout the Potter boy, Sev’rus. Hap’s we could talk in your study?”

“Very well” Severus sighed, rubbing his eyes. Not only was it Halloween- day of the ‘don’t worry about curfew kids; your bastard of a Headmaster has arranged for this to drag on until Midnight’ feast- but it now seemed that Harry had got himself into a fix. And if Harry- who was such an obedient, sweet natured boy- had managed to ruffle Hagrid’s feathers… Well, it wasn’t a good omen, now, was it.

OoOoO

“Ee’s not bin eatin’, Sev. I asked the ‘ouse- elves; one sammich a day from the kitchens an’ he’s never seen at meals. An’ his poor li-il face, ee looks right sad all the time; shoulders hunched and head down. Allus on his lonesome, too. An’ he seemed right popular at the start of term.”

Severus’s brows creased. Had he been so distracted by Quirell- not to mention his own, more personal problems- that he had failed to see Harry’s decline?

“Thank you, Rubeus. I’ll make enquiries directly.”

OoOoO

Blaise’s brow was wrinkled, Theo twisted his hands, Hermione bit her lip and Draco actually had tears in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” said Severus, in a carefully neutral voice.

Hermione rubbed her wrist “I wanted to but… Harry’s such a private person. It felt intrusive.”

“I didn’t want to muck things up. Whenever I try to talk about… stuff I always make things worse.” muttered Theo.

Blaise sighed “I hoped that, eventually, Harry would talk it through with me or Draco.”

Draco looked down “My father… he said I should just try to support Harry and, if I told, Harry might think he couldn’t trust me anymore.”

Severus shook his head “It’s not your fault, children. You cannot be expected to monitor and ensure the welfare of your year-mates.”

“But Harry’s our friend!” cried Draco, tears over-spilling and trailing down his cheeks.

“And I am his Head of House. It is my duty to look after Harry and, it appears, that I have overlooked a number of signs that Harry is unhappy. I will see to the situation.”

Severus watched the upset children traipse out of his study, guilt nibbling keenly at his gut: although the Potions Master had, initially, kept a close eye on the boy, Harry had seemed so contented that Severus had allowed himself to feel complascent. He had not been alert, he had not followed up, he had practically ignored Harry and, thereby, Severus had missed the signs- which were right under his nose- that one of his charges was deeply unhappy. 

Severus could only hope that he wasn’t too late.

OoOoO

However, Severus had a full schedule of lessons that afternoon, culminating in a practical in which one Seventh year created a potion which was Outstanding- in terms of noxious gasses and explosive force!

Therefore, until eight o’ clock, when the Halloween Feast began, Severus was scraping corrosive, poisonous slime off the benches, walls and, indeed, ceiling. And the foul muck even had the audacity to smell like fish!

oOoOo

Severus arrived at the Great Hall just in time to see Quirell’s little performance. The man was such a ham actor that it would be laughable if the situation wasn’t so deadly serious.

Severus made his way to the Teacher’s Table through the pressing, surging crowd of children.

“Hagrid? The Potion’s Master snapped, grabbing the large man’s arm. “Was Harry at the feast tonight? Did you see him?”

“No, Sev’rus. Ee must be out in the castle.” The bit of the half-giant’s face not covered by hair, eyebrows, moustache or beard paled. “Ere, yeh don’t think.”

But Severus was already rushing away.

oOoOo

“Albus!” Severus yelled at the Headmaster’s departing back.

“Yes, dear boy?” asked the old Wizard politely, when he turned and saw Severus’ chalk white face.

“Third floor. This is a diversion. Get up to the third floor and head off Quirell! Harry’s somewhere in the castle. He doesn’t know about the troll!”

Severus ran towards the dungeons, jumping a flight of stairs as he went. He had a horrible, horrible feeling about this.

oOoOo

The best thing about the dungeons, Harry thought, was that, apart from Professor Snape, none of the teachers wanted to work down here and the Hufflepuff and Slytherin quarters didn’t take up a great proportion of the available space.

So there were lots of little nooks, like this one, where Harry could sit and read and eat his sandwiches without having to worry about meeting another person. This little corridor, for instance, was really rather snug: it had tiny windows, looking out into the lake, and someone had thought to carve window seats into the walls underneath. They were upholstered soft, padded leather and the stone of the walls was warm. It was really quite a nice spot; too good for the likes of him but, as no one else seemed to want it…

As Harry turned to the chapter on the Goblin Rebellion, he heard slow, heavy footsteps. Tensing, the boy buried his head in his text book; if he ignored them, they might just ignore him too. It sometimes worked with Aunt Petunia.

To Harry’s horror, a huge, ugly creature stomped around the corner. It’s little red eyes scanned the room myopically and it sniffed. The troll’s gimlet gaze fell on the young boy.

Harry screamed.

OoOoO

The high pitched scream of terror almost stopped Severus’ heart. It sounded as if it came from the south-west, the opposite corner of the castle to the Slytherin Common Room. In the Potion Master’s minds eye, he saw a tiny corridor with leather-padded window seats, the one where he had often hidden out from the Marauders. It was about 30 seconds away, as the Snape runs.

Severus bolted.

OoOoO

The Potion’s Master skidded ‘round the corner as the Troll raised his club. Harry was huddled in the window-seat, wide eyed and terrified. Like a rabbit in the headlights.

A jet of green light surged from Severus’ wand and threw the Troll across the room, away from the petrified child.

Severus’ heart was still pounding, sending fear and horror coursing through his body. He wanted to yell at the foolish, thoughtless boy for being so damn silly as to venture, alone, into such a remote and unfrequented part of the castle.

Severus’ mind was whirling. Should he take Harry to the infirmary? Should he try to talk with him now? Leave it until the morning? Take him to his office where he could assess the boy? Take him to the Serpents’ Nest, where his friends could support him? What was for the best?

But, whilst the Potion Master’s mind and heart were in turmoil, his body had decided to take matters into its own hands- quite literally- and wrapped the quaking boy in his arms.

“I’m here, Harry. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Harry’s stomach, however, leapt on the warm, wholesome scent of porridge and rumbled, desperate to devour the nourishment it had too long been denied.

Sitting up in bed, Harry rubbed his eyes and looked around. It was a small room, with white walls which looked like they’d been roughly hewn from stone; every corner was rounded, every line was a bit wonky. Dark, wooden joists striped the ceiling, brightly polished, golden brown floorboards shone underfoot and a fire crackled in an odd, little, corner fireplace. The room was simply decorated; just a set of shelves stacked with old-fashioned, worn but interesting-looking books, a little bedside table with a blue lamp, the bed (which was dressed in white), a blanket box and Harry's trunk.

Harry stood up and walked over to the little, square window, which looked out onto a beautiful little bay; the surrounding cliffs and the little strip of shore outside the house curving around the indigo water like the crescent moon.

Where Harry was, he did not know but there was such a wonderful feeling about this house, a deep sense of peace and even love. Even the nagging ache in his heart had subsided.

There was a knock at the bedroom door.

“Come in” said Harry nervously.

Severus stuck his head around the door. The second thing that Harry noticed was his teacher’s hair, which was fastened in a loose pony-tail, and the third observation was that the Professor was wearing a heavy, dark blue, woollen jumper and cream corduroy trousers, a sharp contrast to elegant, flowing lines his usual black robes.

However, the first thing that Harry saw was that the Potions Master was smiling.

“Breakfast, Harry?”

OoOoO

Harry and Severus were, in fact, currently staying at ‘Uroborus’; a small safe-house created and warded by Salazar Slytherin himself. The cottage has been designed as a sanctuary for those whose torn nerves and shattered hearts needed peace, tenderness and security. While Slytherin had gone down in history as a harsh, unyielding even vicious man, this was merely a facet of his character, on which, in the public eye, shone the most fiercely; many a man who would have raised his hand in anger, many a woman whose inclination would be to buy luxuries for themselves rather than necessities for their children, paused and took the better path because Slytherin might be watching.

The other aspects of Slytherin’s character were seen by the children in his house, the most important of which was his ability to judge the lazy intellectual from those who did their best, the arrogant rule-breakers from children who struck out through fear, hopelessness and over-wrought nerves. While a strict disciplinarian with those who needed a stiff boot up the backside, Slytherin's empathetic care helped vulnerable children to recover and, indeed, flourish. In many a staff meeting Slytherin set himself against his colleagues, demanding leniency for children who had been stretched to breaking point. And when all else failed, Salazar left his son as regent of Slytherin and accompanied the children here.

All in all, it was an ideal place to take Harry, especially as the Basilisk and the Basilisk alone could freely pass the powerful enchantments surrounding the little house and bay; all others could only enter if Severus freely willed it and the visitor meant no harm to anyone within.

oOoOo

As Severus liberally ladled streaming, milky porridge, laced with brown sugar and dotted with sweet, pillowy raisins, into blue and white striped bowls, he explained to Harry that, following the incident with the troll, the Headmaster had sent them on a good, old-fashioned rest cure.

“But I’m not sick, Sir.” said Harry.

“No Harry but you have been feeling unhappy, haven’t you.” Severus replied, plonking a bowl of fragrant porridge and a cup of cocoa (in which tiny marshmallows were jostling for space) in front of the anxious looking boy.

“I’m okay, Sir, honest.” A terrible thought struck Harry “Please, Sir, please let me return to Hogwarts. I promise I’ll be good.”

Severus’s eyes dimmed “Of course you will be returning to Hogwarts, Harry. This is just a half-term holiday.”

“Half term?” Harry asked, his heart-rate slowing from a buzz to a whine. “but…why didn’t anyone tell me half-term was coming up?”

“You haven’t been speaking much to your friends of late, Harry, and you’ve missed most of the prefects announcements.” Severus said gently “You been leaving the Serpent’s Nest before they wake, you don’t attend meals, you’re always the last to turn up to lessons- and the first to leave- and you only return to the Serpent’s Nest at curfew. They simply haven’t had a chance to tell you.”

“Oh! But why didn’t you tell me we were going away?”

“I wanted it to be a nice surprise.” Severus said. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Where are we, Sir?”

“At little seaside residence. It’s called ‘Uroborus’, an alternate translation of ‘ouroboros’, because the points of the cliffs almost touch. Apparently, the view reminded the person who built this house of a huge snake biting it’s own tail.”

“I didn’t think you’d like the seaside, Sir” Harry said quietly.

Severus smiled wryly “Yes, I suppose I look like I’d be more at home in a Transylvanian castle than on a cheery Cornish beach.”

“No” Harry blushed, mortified “It’s just… you don’t like fish, Sir, and you always got annoyed when you heard people whistling seaside songs.”

Severus’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline “You have a very good eye, Harry. Are you considering a career in espionage?”

“I wasn’t spying, Sir, honest!” squeaked Harry. Why did he have to open his big mouth.

“I didn’t think you were, Harry.” Severus hesitated, then put his hand over Harry’s. He could feel the boy shaking. “I was simply impressed that you had noticed. No, I am not fond of the smell of fish or that particular tune. They bring memories which are painful.”

“I understand, Sir” said Harry quietly. Severus’s hand felt warm and Harry wished, for an instant, that he could hug his teacher. It would be so nice to be held again, just for a moment. But, although Professor Snape was being kind- probably because of the scare with the troll- but he couldn’t think that Harry was a good sort of boy, the sort of boy who deserved hugs. The Professor would probably just think Harry was a perv.

Sadly, Harry scooped up a spoonful of porridge; it was warm, rich, velvety and milky sweet. “This is really nice!”

“My father taught me how to make porridge” Severus said quietly. “He was a fisherman, as was his father before him, and we never set off in the morning without a bowl of it inside us to keep off the cold.”

A fisherman? But why, then, did Professor Snape hate fish? It was strange. Perhaps Professor Snape’s father… No! Professor Snape was a very good man so he must have been a good sort of boy too. His father wouldn’t have treated him like Aunt Petunia had Harry. He would never have done anything to deserve it.

“I imagine that you are very good at cooking, considering you prowess in Potions?” asked Severus.

“Yes, Sir. Would you like me to cook?” Harry asked guilelessly. Perhaps, if he impressed the Professor more, he might start to like him a little bit.

“No, Harry. I was just considering whether you might enjoy learning some new recipes. I am a rather good cook myself but I have little time to indulge the hobby at Hogwarts.”

“Oh! Yes Sir. I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.” said Harry, hope stirring a little in his heart “I don’t want to be any trouble. If you like, I could just sit and read in the bedroom I woke up in.”

“Your bedroom, Harry.” Severus corrected, sadly noting the all too careful phrasing. “It’s yours for as long as you want it. However, cooking with you will be no trouble, we both have to eat after all” the Potions Master smiled “You’re here for a holiday so, I’m afraid, you’ll be seeing quite a lot of me.”

Harry smiled shyly, not knowing quite what to say.

Severus patted Harry’s hand and stood up, walking over to the dresser. “You will need to do your half-term assignments, of course, but these will just take up the mornings. In the afternoons, we can go exploring or swimming or maybe visit some nearby towns.”

Severus picked up a copy of the ‘Daily Prophet’ and number of little scrolls. “Today, however, is a leisure day. Your friends wrote you some letters last night, which you might like to read over breakfast.”

“Why did my fr…” Harry paused, no one wanted to be friends with a freak like him “why did they write to me, Sir?”

“They didn’t have a chance to say goodbye last night” Severus explained “You were so exhausted after our encounter with the troll that you fell asleep before we reached the infirmary.” Technically true. The fact that there had also been a little Somnulus spell was irrelevant. Severus continued “As we had such an eventful evening, I decided it would be best to floo here last night, so I told your friends that we were going away and suggested that they owl their farewells.”

He handed Harry the scrolls and Harry, scanning the outside of each scroll (where his name was written) recognised Blaise, Theo, Hermione and Draco’s writing.

“Thank you, Sir” said Harry quietly, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. These letters must contain permanent goodbyes. He guessed it must be easier for nice people like Blaise, Draco, Theo and Hermione to write that they no longer wanted him as their friend rather than saying it to his face.

He looked to Professor Snape, only to see that the teacher was hidden behind a newspaper. He probably thinks it’ll be easier without anyone looking at me, thought Harry, sadly.

Harry opened the scroll from Hermione first.

OoOoO

To: Harry Potter
From: Hermione Granger

1/11/91

Dearest Harry,

Professor Snape has told us about the Troll! We’re all so thankful that you’re alright! It was such a close miss, Harry, so please, please don’t go exploring the castle by yourself any more. Theo and I will always come with you, if you want us. We’re all really missing you, by the way. Our study group is not as much fun without you with us.

I hope you enjoy your half-term. I’m really envious; it must be fascinating to go on holiday with Professor Snape. You’ll learn so much. I hope you’ll tell me all about it when you get back.

Lots of Love,

Hermione xoxo

OoOoO

Harry blinked. It was… unbelievable. Hermione had actually been worried about him, Harry, and had even offered to go exploring with him! Then again, she was a really nice girl and, besides, Harry was useful to her; because he’d read all the textbooks at the start of term- trying to ward off the bad thoughts- Harry had started on course-relevant library books. He’d always shared his findings at the study group meetings. Hermione said it wasn’t so good anymore; she probably just valued Harry’s knowledge enough to be able to put up with him.

Theo’s scroll had a cool, obviously magical sticker holding it closed; it was like a little animation of a wizard in Auror robes casting an exploding spell on- appropriately enough- a troll. Harry carefully peeled it open.

OoOoO

To: Harry Potter

Dear Harry,

Theo, here, mate. Wow! Close call with the troll; I’d have pissed myself. Why weren’t you at the feast with us?

Hope you have a good holiday and don’t work too hard. Looking forward to seeing you again next week; Hermione’s pretty cool but she’s such a stickler for the rules, know what I mean. Not creative like you and me.

Regards, T.

OoOoO

“Why weren’t you at the feast”… It sounded almost as if… Theo had wanted him there. Harry ruthlessly squashed the hope. No, it was probably just strange to Theo- who enjoyed his food- that Harry would miss the big Halloween feast. Harry picked up Blaise’s letter.

OoOoO

To: Harry Potter
From: Blaise

Dear Harry,

Hope you’re okay. I was absolutely horrified to hear about your near miss with the Troll. You’ve really got to be more careful in the future Harry; Hogwarts may be a school but there are some less than safe bits. Not everyone is as nice as you are, Harry, and you could get seriously hurt. Please don’t go around alone in the future. We’d all be really upset if something happened to you.

Hope you have a nice time with Professor Snape. Mum told me that he’s a really good hydromage so you should definitely get him to take you swimming. (Funnily enough, his paternal ancestors were Spanish muggles shipwrecked from the Armada!)

Love Blaise.

OoOoO

Harry swallowed, trying to get rid of the hot tightness in his throat. Blaise sounded so genuinely worried and upset at the thought that he, Harry, might have been hurt. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Almost without knowing what he did, Harry broke open the dark green seal of the last letter.

OoOoO

To: Harry Potter
From: Draco Malfoy

31st October

Harry,

You do realise, don’t you, that you could be dead by now. You were so bloody lucky that Professor Snape turned up in time to save your foolish hide. I’m seriously mad at you, Harry. You frightened the life out of me, not to mention Professor Snape; he was actually white when he came to tell us what had happened. And still shaking. He was really upset.

I really don’t know what’s got into you lately; we used to hang out all the time and now I never see you. Whatever, you are never to go around the school on your own again. If you don’t want to talk to me or the others, you’ll just have to stay in the Serpents’ Nest, where we can keep an eye out for you. Do you even realise how easy it would be for someone to hurt you when you’re alone in the castle?

I hope you enjoy your half-term. Here is a gift-card for Honeydukes, it’s a wizarding sweetshop.

Your best friend,

Draco Malfoy.

OoOoO

Tears were running down Harry’s cheeks. Draco… he sounded so upset, almost as if he hated him. But, if he hated him then he wouldn’t have called himself Harry’s best friend. Or given him a present.

A sob fought it’s way out of Harry’s throat and, a second later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Tearful green eyes met obsidian and Harry suddenly found himself wrapped in Severus’s arms, his cheek pressing against the soft blue wool of his teacher’s jumper.

“Hush, Harry” a gentle hand stroked his hair.

“Draco’s so mad at me”

“You don’t say. The Malfoys do tend to be pretty fiery, especially when someone they care about endangers themselves.”

Harry sniffled. Severus sighed “When I was twelve, I decided to go into the Forbidden Forest to gather some fairycups- they’re a type of mushroom. I ran into a roc and only got away with my life because Lucius, Draco’s father, had followed me. He was a Seventh year and considered me his protégée. Anyway, when we got back to school, he upended me over his knee and… well, let’s just say I couldn’t sit down for a week.”

“Really, Sir?” asked Harry, looking up towards his teacher’s face. Severus patted the boy gently on the back and released him from his embrace.

“Yes, really. However, if you mention this to anyone, ever, I will, of course, deny it.”

“I won’t say anything, Sir.” Harry said meekly. “Um, did he forgive you?”

“Lucius? Yes, immediately. Another trait Draco had inherited from his father is to combine stick with a fair amount of carrot.” Severus picked up the gift card and handed it to Harry.

“There is a branch of Honeydukes nearby, in Boscastle.” said Severus kindly, “Perhaps you’d like to go there this morning?”

Harry blushed “I, ah, don’t have any ordinary clothes with me. Just my school things.”

Severus’s mouth thinned; bloody Petunia! “I see. Well, I’ll shrink a set of my things for you and we’ll see about finding you some holiday clothing when we’re in town.”

“I…I don’t have any money on me, Sir.”

Severus forced his face to relax “As you are a Ward of Hogwarts, Harry, the Headmaster has given me a rather tidy sum to spend on, in his words ‘ice-creams, dinners out, toys, trinkets, etc’.” Severus smiled: Albus had felt so guilty that, had lightening charms not been woven into the money pouch, it would have been rather difficult to lift with one hand. “I am sure that buying you a few outfits will scarcely dent the balance.”

Harry’s first impression of the town of Elb was that, save for Hogwarts, he had never seen anywhere quite so obviously magical. Elb, or Even Lower Boscastle as it was properly known, was a small, wizarding settlement which occupied the caves under the muggle town of Boscastle. It was a beautiful town: glowing lamps lit the cobbled streets, rough crystals encrusted the domed roof and the tiny shops were actually carved out of the rock: the caves were a site of ancient magic and, therefore had been hidden from muggles long before Elb had first developed. Aside from the pub, The Mermayde, there were branches of Gladrags, Scrivenschafts, Honeydukes, Quentin and Quistis and a little Apothecary. However, when Harry looked around, he could see no houses. Severus noticed his puzzled expression.

“No one actually lives in Elb, Harry” the Potions Master explained, “The lack of daylight makes it undesirable as a residence and the caves are but small, too small for a hamlet, let alone a proper town. Elb is more like a muggle shopping centre and, in the past, it was also used as a sanctuary for those fleeing the witch-hunters.”

“I thought real witches and wizards could escape muggles” said Harry, surprised.

“Well Harry,” replied Severus as he led the young boy to Gladrags “while magic is a useful weapon, when there are many muggles attacking at once, spells aren’t incredibly useful. Even the worst of spells can only be cast on one person at a time and, if you are within several muggle’s striking range, killing one will only serve to enrage the rest.”

“Why don’t people like magic, Sir?” asked Harry sadly.

“Some are simply afraid of us because our magic gives us power” Professor Snape explained. “Others are envious. Your Aunt, for example, wanted to be magical herself and, when Professor Dumbledore explained that she could not attend Hogwarts, she grew to hate Lily.”

“Aunt Petunia wanted to come to Hogwarts?” Harry squeaked, his eyes round. “But, that can’t be right, she hates magic.”

Severus smiled sadly “She hated magic for the same reason that she hated her sister; she was mad with jealousy.”

“Do you… do you think that’s why she hated me?” asked Harry “Was she jealous of me?”

“Most probably. Petunia was a spiteful, unpleasant woman who treated her sister as badly as she dared.” Severus replied “Now, Harry, lets get down to business: I think we’ll start on shirts first. Sport and Holiday section carries muggle-wear so lets go and see what they have in stock.”

Half an hour later, Harry and Severus left Gladrags each carrying a large bag. Harry had several new T-shirts, in bright, jewel-like blues, greens and purples, a couple of white, Egyptian cotton shirts, three pairs of wool trousers in black, grey and dark blue, swimming trunks, three light jumpers in green, blue and red, a thick jumper in cream cableknit, a big pack of pants, a box of brightly coloured socks- one pair for every day of the week- and, best of all, a thick, black trench-coat.
Harry, who hadn’t had anything new in years, was beside himself with joy and anxiety.

“Thank you so much, Professor. You didn’t have to buy me so much though, I could have managed with just a T-shirt and a pair of trousers. I mean, we could have gone to a charity shop, it was so expensive...”

“Harry” said Severus, “We’ve already been through this before we left Uroborus. And in the shop. And at the checkout. I am not taking you to a charity shop. Professor Dumbledore has given me lots of money to spend on you and, even if the money was coming from my own pocket, I'd still buy you these things because no child in my care will ever have to make one second-hand set of clothes last the week.”

“Sorry, Sir” Harry said blushing.

“I understand, Harry, if you find it difficult to get used to this way of living” said Severus in a quiet voice “you have been neglected so seriously and for so long that you do not realise what is normal. Every little boy and girl of your age is entitled to certain things, like warm clothing, food and love.” Severus paused, looking sternly at Harry “And you are not naughty but, even if you were, you would still be entitled to those things.”

“Yes, Sir” said Harry meekly. It didn’t make sense, though. If you were a trial and a burden you couldn’t expect even more money to be spent on you, could you?

“Good. Now, lets go to ‘Quentin and Quistis’.”

This turned out to be a little magical store containing everything from owl treats to newspapers to glasses. Severus grabbed a bag of owl treats (for Hedwig and Xiao, Professor Snape’s owl, who were both roosting in the Uroborus owlery) and a few extra packets of parchment before calling Harry over to the glasses case.

“Pick a pair.”

“Professor?”

“Which pair would you like, Harry.”

“I don’t need new glasses, Sir. These are fine.” Harry pleaded.

“When did you get your glasses, Harry.” Severus said patiently.

“Um a couple of years ago.” Harry replied, blushing.

“And where?”

“NHS.” Harry whispered.

“I think these ones, with the dark green frames, would suit your face shape” said Severus in a decided voice.

Harry walked out of the shop ten minutes later, a new pair of thin, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

“These are fantastic, Sir! I can see everything!”

“They have a little spell which allows them to automatically adjust to your eyes” said Severus with a smile. “Honeydukes is next on the list, I believe.”

Honeydukes was better than Harry’s wildest dreams.

There were long, dark-wood counters, out of which tapered deep glass trays filled with all manner of confectionary; lollies, boiled sweets, candied fruits, bonbons, jelly beans and even what looked like little chocolate frogs. At the front of the shop, there was a chocolate counter and, towards the back, were speciality stands. Professor Snape left Harry to browse whilst he spoke to the shopkeeper.

Harry wandered around, eagerly reading packets. Many of the sweets had magical effects and some, for example Bertie Botts jelly beans and Acid Pops, seemed rather gross.

Harry picked up a basket and started picking out gifts for his friends. For Pansy, Tracy and Daphne, Harry picked out some beautiful boiled sweets in the shapes of flower bulbs: apparently, if you planted them in the little pots provided, they’d grow like real flowers, except their stems would be hard sugar, like candy canes, their leaves soft nougat and their petals formed out of soft fruit jellies. After thinking for a while, Harry added another two for Millicent and Hermione; although they weren’t girly girls like Tracy, Pansy and Daphne, the flowers in the display case looked really pretty.

Next, Harry found a vase of sugar quills; they looked just like real quills but you could eat them. He took a packet for Theo and a single one for Hermione: they’d enjoy eating them in the library.

For Draco, how could Harry resist the special chocolate Dragons which, as the packaging proclaimed “Allows you to breathe fire in one of seven exciting colours.”

Blaise was tricky. Harry knew that he’d love the packet of chocolate, peanut butter, honey and strawberry flavoured chap-sticks but… well, he didn’t want to make Blaise think Harry thought he was girly. In the end, Harry compromised and got Blaise the chap-sticks and a packet of Bertie Botts every flavour beans, like he was buying Crabbe, Goyle and Draco.

A box  of chocolate frogs went in for Neville (who was very fond of his toad, Trevor) and some rum truffles for Hagrid. Then it was time to choose the most important present of all; something for Professor Snape.

Harry scanned the counters. What to choose? He didn’t want to give the Professor something he didn’t like. Eventually, Harry settled on a box of humbugs. His uncle had always liked them and Severus reminded Harry a little of him.

“Close your eyes, please, Sir” said Harry, a little nervously as he approached the counter.

Professor Snape grinned. “I’m finished here, Harry,” he replied, swinging his Honeydukes bag. “You can meet me outside.”

When Harry finally emerged outside, he offered Professor Snape a silver box tied with a green ribbon.

“Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Sir. These are for you.”

“Thank you very much, Harry” Severus smiled, taking the box. “I hope you got something nice for yourself?”

“Oh I did, I got… oh!”

Severus laughed “I thought as much, Harry.” He pulled a Honeydukes 'Boy's Delight' Hamper from his bag “And this is for you.”

oOoOo

As Harry walked down a sunlit beach half an hour later, eating a triple-scoop pistachio, amaretto and Malaga ice cream, he could almost believe that Professor Snape really did like him a little after all.

When Severus and Harry returned to Uroborus, Severus told Harry to go upstairs and hang up his new clothes in the wardrobe whilst Severus made them lunch.

Whilst Harry was out of the room, Severus opened the box that Harry had bought him at Honeydukes.

Humbugs.

In the future, when Severus looked back on Harry’s first term at Hogwarts, he would be surprised that it had taken him until this moment, this one, shining moment of clarity, to realise what had been happening during these last few weeks. According to Harry’s friends, Harry had become depressed in the second week of term, around September 10th, just before the wretched house-elves started serving up fish. The worse Harry’s depression became, the more fish arrived at the table. Big, juicy hunks of fresh fish, just like his father used to prepare for supper every evening. The very smell brought back memories; his father holding him, his father laughing, his father telling him that he, Severus, was the most precious gift. Memories sharp and vicious as knives of what he would never again experience; pure, unconditional, all-encompassing love.

When Harry’s depression reached dangerous levels, Severus had started to notice students whistling his father’s ‘fish cooking’ song, the one Tobias had always hummed to himself as he fried their kippers for breakfast, as he doused cod in egg and breadcrumbs, as he shelled prawns to make his famous shellfish stew. As he lovingly cooked a little dover sole for his precious son. The whistling had taken Severus right back to when he was with his father and he felt safe and loved. It had nearly driven him mad.

And, finally, when Harry needed immediate help, Severus had dreamt about his father for the first time in over twenty years.

And now this. These humbugs. It was a one in two hundred chance that Harry would choose these sweets, the very sweets that his father had given Severus on the day he died.

Severus wondered why he hadn’t realised that these things, these strange occurances were more than mere coincidence before now. It was obvious that someone had been warning him. Warning him that Harry, a boy whose history- now he came to think of it- was so similar to his own, might be in danger. Severus had simply been too wrapped up in his own work, his duties for the order, to realise that these annoyances were something more significant.

The thought made him feel sick. As if it wasn’t enough that he had missed the signs that Harry was unhappy, Severus had ignored- wilfully ignored- what he could now see as explicit warnings that the darkness was coming for Harry, the child he was sworn to protect!

And, it seemed, Harry was still in danger.

Severus strode into the study, a beautiful absinthe green room, far taller than it was wide or long, with a huge ebony partner’s desk and long bookcases which reached all the way up to the skylight in the ceiling.

The Potions Master bent down and extracted an exceptionally wide volume entitled “Poysnous Bugges, Funguses aynd Plantes”- all 20,000 pages of it- and reached into the little recess behind to drag out a large wooden box: inside was a smooth chrysoprase bowl and velvet lined rack, containing a number of crystal vials which dated back into antiquity. Inside each of these bottles were the memories of Basilisks, right back to Slytherin himself.

Severus picked up an empty glass vial and took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to do this and, indeed, had been making excuses to avoid it for some time. Severus was an intensely private man and he had told no one except Horace Slughorn about his childhood and, until now, Severus had had no intention of reliving his past with anyone else.

Memory after silver memory was decanted into that little crystal bottle, filling it to the brim. Severus knew that Harry must realise that abuse didn’t just happen to bad children, that it was the abusers themselves who were evil and twisted.

The darkness couldn’t be allowed to take Harry.

After replacing the book, Severus stood up and carried the box into the kitchen. This afternoon was going to be difficult but when Slughorn had done this for him, it had helped him realise what and, hopefully, it would help Harry too.

oOoOo

Lunch was a quiet affair. Severus and Harry ate their cheese and pickle sandwiches in near silence; Harry was curiously observing the beautiful green bowl, which looked like it was made out of opaque emerald, and the really pretty little cut crystal bottles. Unlike muggle crystal, the carved shapes moved around: flowers bloomed, vines coiled and curled their leaves and, on one very ancient bottle, a little snake blinked and flicked his tongue. Harry was so fascinated that, when Severus offered him a choice of tangerine, banana and apple, he had to ask the child twice.

Severus’s reflections were not so sanguine or pleasant. He knew that Harry was much too young to see this particular pensieve: the memories were very vivid and even the chrysoprase bowl, which would insulate against psychological damage, could not change the upsetting nature of the content. Severus, hardened sixteen year old as he thought he was, had cried in Slughorn’s arms after his first viewing.

However, it had been necessary; as Slughorn had dragged him through the pasts of Basilisks, Severus had realised that these children were innocent victims and, therefore, that he might be a victim too.

When Harry had finished his tangerine, Severus spoke;

“The bowl in front of you, Harry, is a pensieve. It is an heirloom from Salazar Slytherin himself and quite unique in that it is carved from a semi-precious stone, chrysoprase.”

“What’s a pensieve, Sir?” Harry asked shyly.

“It’s a storage bowl for memories; one simply decants the memory which one wishes to view into the pensieve and touches the surface.”

“Oh! But…” Harry blushed, dropped his gaze and fell silent.

“Yes, Harry?” Severus said kindly.

“Well, couldn’t you just remember in your head?”

“Ah, but, Harry, in a pensieve, you see everything as if you were watching a film of yourself. The human mind is quite amazing: we store so much in our subconscious, so many bits and pieces of information which have faded from our actual memories. The magic of the pensieve is that it accesses all of the memory, both the conscious and the subconscious and, therefore, we are able to see what really happened at any given event.” Severus smiled “You would be quite amazed at how different people’s perception of events are to the reality; in the heat of the moment, we often miss the significance of certain things. There is a muggle phrase ‘hindsight is 20/20’, which means that, when one looks back, one sees a situation quite differently then one did at the time. However, it does help if one has access to all the facts, which is where the pensieve is very useful.”

Harry thought for a moment, then bit his lip “Do you want, um, I mean are we going to be looking at my memories?” Harry asked tremulously, horror evident in his wide green eyes.

“No, Harry. Another very important quality of the pensieve is that one can view other people’s memories. Today, we are going to be looking at the memories of a few of the previous Basilisks.” Severus reassured him.

“Um… won’t they mind? I mean, I don’t want to be nosy.” Harry burbled.

Severus patted the child’s hand. “Calm down Harry. No, each of the people whose memories we will be seeing has donated them, for want of a better word, for future Basilisks to show to children. No one forced these people to do so; they gave their memories of their free will.”

“Why, Sir?” Harry asked.

“Sometimes children who have been treated cruelly believe that they deserve it,” said Severus quietly “children blame their abuser’s crimes on themselves for, oh, a dozen reasons: their mother died in childbirth, their father got hit by a car whilst going to the shops to buy them some sweets, they were not pretty enough, good enough, intelligent enough, magical enough…”

Harry looked up at his teacher with heartbreaking green eyes.

“It’s all lies, Harry; if one is responsible for a child, then one should protect, love and provide for that child. There are no excuses, no extenuating circumstances.” Severus took a deep breath “However, it is hard for some children to believe this. That is why I have this pensieve; to show you, if you are willing, some children who have suffered as you have. You will have to make up your own mind as to whether they deserved it.”

Harry looked a little unsure so Severus added “If you choose not to view the pensieve, there will be no repercussions; we will continue on as if this subject had never been mentioned.”

Harry sat and thought for a moment. These were the memories of the Heads of Slytherin House; respectable, learned wizards whose job-title clearly implied that they must also be good men because, if the Basilisks weren’t good, then they wouldn’t be allowed to teach children. The memories were probably just about them getting a smack on the bottom or being sent to bed without supper for some minor mischief. On the rare occasions when Uncle Vernon had denied Dudley a bag or sweets or a comic on the grounds that he had been naughty, Dudley had felt himself very hard done by: he’d screamed and kicked and made himself sick. Harry expected that this was because Dudley was a very good sort of boy, the sort who could be taught right or wrong by a little punishment, whereas Harry, a hardened delinquent, needed a big punishment or else he’d never learn. The Basilisks had probably all been good children, like Dudley Dursley.

“I would like to see the pensieve, please, Sir” said Harry.

“Very well, Harry.” Severus picked up the bottle with the tiny snake carving and Harry smiled to see how the glass serpent twisted around to flick his tongue under Professor Snape’s fingers.

Harry watched in fascination as Severus drained the silver, viscous liquid into the little, green basin: it swirled and a tiny figure rose out of the depths; he was a willowy, tall wizard, with a round, bald head, hollowed cheeks and large, mesmerising, slit-pupilled eyes. He smiled gently, revealing slightly longer canines than normal but the effect wasn’t scary due to the extraordinary kindness of the old man’s eyes. He held out a tiny hand to Harry who, enchanted, took it.

Suddenly, Harry was in Severus’s inner-office at Hogwarts; the room was the same shape, the location of the fire and the setting of the windows were all the same but the décor was very different; bare stone walls, hung with tapestries of serpents and unicorns, were lit by flickering candles in sconces. On the long, leather-padded bench, a young, fair-haired girl embroidered a tiny dragon, a teenage boy with a messy brown mane was writing at the table and, in a chair by the fire, a baby sat in the lap of a beautiful, blond woman, playing with her fingers. A wizard, clearly a younger version of the same man who had invited Harry into the pensieve, relaxed in a chair, smiling over his book at the little family gathering.

“Wæs me wyn to þon.”

Harry turned and saw the older snake-eyed Wizard standing beside him, smiling softly.

“I don’t understand” replied Harry anxiously.

“He’s just saying he was happy.” Severus had materialised on Harry’s other side “Don’t worry, Harry, he can’t actually hear you; Slytherin has simply superimposed a later memory over an earlier memory.” The Potions Master smiled “Well, I say simply; no one has any idea of how he actually did it.”

There was a swirl of silver and the setting abruptly changed. Tall, verdant trees surrounded them and, in the middle of a small clearing, a campfire flicked, revealing a slender, exceptionally handsome man and a beautiful, young woman with flaxen hair. A toddler, whose long, acorn brown locks and bright green, slit pupilled eyes showed him to clearly be the man’s son, was lying in front of the fire, evidently basking in the warmth. The man stood up and hoisted the child onto his shoulder, saying something in a language which sounded even more strange than Slytherin’s.

The child grinned in delight, revealing tiny fangs, and the father smiled at him, opening his mouth and showing long, needle fine canines. The child laughed and grabbed hold of one of the teeth and the man chuckled.

*“Ohh! Ssssnakelet hasss my tooff!”* he teased.

*“I not breaksss it, daddy”* said the child cheerfully, letting go. He patted his father’s long, brown hair.

*“Hunting birdiessss. Ssssupper for sssssnakelet and hatcher.”* the man said keenly.

*“Birdiesss! Yummy yum! Big, fat birdiessss.”* sang the child happily.

The man kissed the little boy on the forehead.

“Why does he call his child a ‘snakelet’ and what’s a ‘hatcher’?” asked Harry.

Severus’ dark eyes widened “You can understand them?”

“Er… yeah” relied Harry confused.

A parselmouth..? Severus schooled his expression into neutrality “Well, that man is a snake youkai, which means he is able to be a snake or a human. He is talking to his son in the language of snakes, which they both instinctively understand. Mother snakes lay eggs so I assume that the ‘hatcher’ is the child’s mother and his father calls him ‘snakelet’ because that is what snakes call their babies.”

“Oh! Does that mean I’m part snake youkai?” asked Harry

“It is possible” replied Severus carefully.

The world turned silver and the scene changed again. The child and his mother were huddled in the middle of a room, looking thin and careworn. The mother’s eyes had dark circles under them, like she hadn’t got enough sleep for many days, and the little boy’s eyes were red from crying. Some men who sort of resembled the woman were yelling at her and she was cringing away, holding the child close to her. One of the men, who was holding a whip, moved towards the woman as if to lay hands on her and the child jerked in front of his mother, baring his fangs with a furious hiss and raising his tiny clawed hands. The man struck the little boy so hard that he was thrown to the ground- causing Harry to jump in surprise- and raised his whip. The woman jumped in front of the child but the man hit her too and kicked her away.

Harry cringed as he watched the man raise the whip again but the scene abruptly changed. There was a tiny, dark room and the little boy, obviously a few years older now, sat in chains which had worn raw his tiny wrists, feet and neck. The child was eating a rat, tear-tracks running down his dirty face.

Harry shuddered “Where is his father?”

“Dead, Harry. Murdered by people who thought he was a monster.” said Severus sadly.

“But… he wasn’t a monster! He was normal!” Harry gasped, remembering how kind and gentle the brown haired man had been with his child.

“Yes but some people believe that a person has to look and speak and think the same as them” replied Severus “That is why they bricked this tiny child up here and left him to rot. His only crime was being different.”

“What happened to his mother?” Harry asked, aghast.

“She is locked up too. In a nicer room, perhaps, and with more to eat but that counts for little with her: she is pining away for her child.”

There was another wash of silver and Harry stood on a hill, watching a building burn. Behind a crowd of warriors, a tall, muscular man with a sword and shaggy, tawny hair knent beside the thin, ragged child and bandaged the child’s wounds with strips of cloth torn from his own shirt. Beside him a red-haired woman, sat holding an almost skeletal woman in her lap and gently feeding her broth.

“The Gryffindors, Godric Gryffindor’s father, Horsa, and Aunt, Hilda, rescued Salazar and his mother” Severus explained. “They were a Norfolk family, viking warriors whose prowess in battle was tempered by their unusually high-minded and idealistic values. They had heard of Slytherin's plight and decided to rescue him. As merciful as they were, however, when they discovered Slytherin and saw what state he was in, the Gryffindors killed those who had abused him without hesitation.”

Harry suddenly found himself outside the pensieve, standing in the kitchen of Uroborus. He felt sick with grief and horror and tears were running freely down his cheeks.

Severus removed a vial containing the Draught of Peace from his pocket and held it to Harry’s lips “Drink.”

Harry swallowed the potion with quivering lips and immediately felt a warmth stealing through his body. Harry’s heart rate slowed and the tightness in his chest loosen.

Severus led Harry over to the sofa by the fire and sat next to him.

“I felt as you do now, when I saw how badly you had been treated by your Aunt Petunia.” Severus confided quietly. “It feels awful, doesn’t it, to see a helpless, innocent child suffer so terribly at the hands of those who should have protected him.”

Harry swallowed “Bu…but Aunt Petunia didn’t lock me up and make me eat rats!”

“Salazar was a snake youkai, Harry. He could eat raw meat; a rat to him would have been no worse a daily meal than a bowl of tinned soup. And your cupboard was just as much a prison to you as Salazar’s cellar was to him.”

Harry bit his lip “At least she let me out sometimes.”

“To be her slave, Harry; your ‘chores’ were, in fact, more housework than a fully grown person could have comfortably achieved and your Aunt also physically abused you; I think it could be said that you had the worst situation.” Severus replied firmly.

“But I was a burden!”

“So was Slytherin; his mother couldn’t support him on her own. That is why she returned to her family.”

“But... I was bad” whispered Harry, curling up on himself.

“No, Harry. You were not bad.” Severus said, putting an arm around the sobbing child “You were just a little boy, like Slytherin was. Did he deserve to be beaten?”

“No, he was just protecting his mother” wept Harry.

“And you were just existing. That is why Petunia abused you; because she resented your mother’s magical ability and the fact that her parents preferred sweet-natured, kind Lily to her spiteful, petty self. Did you know that, when she was twelve, Petunia broke the neck of Lily’s beloved rabbit?”

Harry looked up, tearful eyes shining in horror.

“What had that little rabbit done to her to deserve that? He was the most tame, gentle, beautiful little creature; never bit, always scampered to the front of his cage, loved having his black fur stroked. Petunia killed him to spite Lily, just as she’s hurt you to spite her sister.”

“You were as much a victim as that rabbit, Harry. Petunia hurt you, a sweet, good, innocent little boy, because she is a sick, twisted individual.” Severus finished, his dark eyes flashing.

Harry breathed deeply, the after-effects of his sobs still wracking his body.

Keeping his arm around the boy’s shoulders, Severus reached down and pulled a chocolate bar out of the Honeydukes bag by his foot.

“Here, Harry. Chocolate with candied hearts-ease. Eat some, it will make you feel better.”

Trembling hands took the chocolate bar and Harry broke off a square and nibbled at it.

“Once upon a time, many years ago now, I sat where you’re sitting, eating a bar of chocolate. It was raspberry and mint, I recall” confided Severus “My Head of House, Professor Slughorn, had showed me that memory, among others, because I thought that I had deserved my Mother’s treatment of me. The beatings, being locked in my room, without food, for days as encouragement for me to ‘magic myself out’, being told that I was a wretched little disappointment and wholly responsible for my beloved father’s death.”

“It… happened to you, Sir?” asked Harry, scarcely believing his ears.

“Oh yes. My Mother killed my father when I was six. She was mentally unstable and somewhat violent. My father, who loved me very much, was a muggle and my mother didn’t think him worth much. When he saw that she had beaten me, he was furious with her: he told my mother what he thought of her and she murdered him without a second thought.”

“And she blamed you” Harry asked, incredulous.

“Yes, just as your Aunt Petunia blamed you for having magic when she didn’t.” Severus said sadly “Some people are insane, Harry. They may look and act normal enough to deceive people who don’t really know them but there is something wrong in their heads which means that they don’t understand that hurting another person is a bad thing to do.”

Harry sighed, resting his head against the side of Professor Snape’s chest. He couldn’t doubt that Professor Snape liked him and thought that he was a good boy, Professor Snape had said so many times and in words that couldn’t be interpreted to mean something else. However, Harry still felt that he must be bad in some ways. He’d still killed Voldemort as a baby, which must mean that at least a part of him was dark.

Severus hesitated then raised a hand to stroke Harry’s hair. “I know what you’ve seen today was upsetting, Harry, but Slytherin was, eventually, a very, very happy man. After he was rescued, Slytherin grew up among Hilda Gryffindor's family, who cared for him as much as any of their sons or brothers. His mother recovered and lived to see Slytherin found a school, marry a kind, adoring witch and have many children, who were raised to be proud of their mixed heritage."

Harry nodded “I saw.”

“You, too, will have a happy life, Harry” said Severus “but, to do this, you need to be firm with yourself and say that you did not deserve how your Aunt treated you. You have a great many friends, for example Mr. Malfoy, who genuinely like and respect you because you are a very good sort of person.”

Harry looked doubtful.

“It will take time, Harry, it always takes time to recover from such.” Severus said softly “And, if you need further examples to assure you that it is the adults, not the children, who are at fault, I have a whole rack of childhood memories.”

Harry shivered “No thanks, Sir.”

“Well,” said Severus standing up “I think it’s high time that we started on supper. How does chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes and buttered peas and sweet-corn sound?”

Harry returned his smile weakly “It sounds nice, Sir.”

“Come on, then. Let’s make some pastry.”

oOoOo

An hour later, when a smiling child proudly watched as his teacher pulled their round, golden, delicious-smelling pie from the oven, the tall shade of a man looked on, smiling softly to himself.

“Atta boy, our Sev.”

After quickly drying off, Harry, for the first time in years, had the luxury of choosing what to wear. After a moment’s thought- Harry didn’t want to risk annoying Severus by being downstairs too late- Harry chose purple socks, black jeans and the lovely, aubergine t-shirt. Slipping on his school shoes- Gladrags hadn’t sold trainers- Harry ran downstairs.

Professor Snape smiled when he saw Harry’s face. True, the child’s eyes held a vestige of sadness but, considering the blank, dull gaze of yesterday, that was a colossal improvement. Harry’s small smile was better than the forced, hopeless grin and the slight tension in the child’s muscles, while not good, was better than his previous, hopeless slouch.

Severus picked up a plate and decanted two sausages, and a slice of haggis from the frying pan, before adding a piping hot potato-scone fresh from the oven.

“Here you go, Harry.” Severus said, setting the plate before the boy and pouring him a glass of orange juice.

“Oh wow, Sir, these are yummy!” Harry enthused, munching the buttered scone.

“Old Snape recipe, my grandmother used to make them” said Professor Snape with a faint smile. Although an intensely private, somewhat taciturn individual, Severus found it was surprisingly easy to talk to this child. However, given their similar pasts, perhaps a degree of kinship and intimacy was inevitable.

“I’ve been thinking, Sir” started Harry shyly as Snape sat down with his own repast.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Um, Slytherin’s pensieve… er, couldn’t he just have bottled a memory of him watching his own memories?”

Severus stared at the child, then snorted with laughter.

“I knew it was stupid” sighed Harry, green eyes dulling with disappointment.

“No, no Harry. I think you’ve cracked the enigma.” laughed Severus “it is easily the most logical solution and, I expect, that is why no one else has thought of it. Sadly enough, wizards are, on average, somewhat less gifted in the logic department than muggles. Most mages, be they ever so powerful, cannot figure out even the simplest riddle. It is really rather humbling, actually, that I didn’t notice it myself; I’m a bit of a dab hand at logic puzzles.”

Harry smiled shyly.

Severus cut a bite of haggis “I thought that, this morning, we could go out onto the beach and do a little Defence training. Professor Quirell” said Severus with a sneer “is apparently still on Curse of the Bogies: ‘Mucus ad Nauseam’ ad nauseum.”

“I’ve already mastered that curse, Sir.” said Harry, earnestly.

“Yes, I expect you have.” Severus replied neutrally, taking a sip of coffee “Therefore, we will deviate from his curriculum.”

“What will we be doing, Sir.”

“Although these are higher level spells, I think we might try learning expelliarmus, the disarming curse, accio, the summoning charm, and protego, the shield charm.”

“Those sound really useful” said Harry, thoughtfully.

“They are; a charm to disarm, a charm to call your wand and a charm to shield yourself. They may be difficult to master, especially for younger children, but, in my humble opinion, they are so essential that it is better to spend the first year mastering these three life-saving spells than a hundred little jinxes which, while effective on one’s peers, would not save one from a dangerous foe.”

Harry grinned.

“Some more owls arrived for you this morning” Severus said, removing his wand from the arm-holster and saying ‘accio’: a little box and a slightly crumpled scroll flew towards him. The potions master handed them to Harry and retreated behind his newspaper.

Harry opened the scroll, which was fastened with three little wax seals.

oOoOo

To: Hary Potter
From: M. Bulstrode, V. Crabbe and G. Goyle.

“Dear Hary,

We hope your having a nise tim with Professor Snape and that your feling better now. We hope you still want to be freinds with uz becos we miss you.

Your freinds,

Milly, Vin and Greg.

P.s. sory abut your run-in with the troll. We hope your ok.

oOoOo

The sentiments, so simply but clearly stated, brought a smile to Harry’s lips; Milly, Vin and Greg were often perceived by Gryffs to be aloof and unpleasant. Nothing could be further from the truth, however; they all suffered from mild learning difficulties: Vin was dyslexic and Greg and Milly were just talented at other things than schoolwork. People who did not know them, however, tended to be mean and call them names; Parvati Patil had even said that Milly was part hag. This meant that the trio were usually very shy and uncomfortable in the company of people from other Houses.

Harry smiled at the copper-plate writing: poor Milly tried to make up for her spelling, which was usually phonetic, by trying her best to write clearly. (As Blaise often said, it was a damn poor mind which could only think of one spelling for a word.) He guessed that Greg and Vin had petitioned her to write for them as well because their handwriting was even worse than Harry’s when he wasn’t using a quill tip.

Harry opened the little box, inside was a note;

OoOoO

Dear Harry,

Daphne, Tracy and I made these chocolates in potions for you. Professor Dumbledore has been showing us the most amazing sweet recipes and he’s even taught us to candy flowers! I made the violet creams, Tracy did the coconut ice and Daphne made the raisin fudge.

We hope that you’re enjoying your holiday.

Love Pansy, Tracy and Daphne.

oOoOo

Potions classes? But Professor Snape had said it was half term! Then again, yesterday was Friday…

“Sir! I thought it was half-term!” said Harry, clearly upset.

“Indeed it is, Harry.”

“But yesterday was Friday. And Pansy said they were doing Potions!”

Severus raised an eyebrow “Professor Dumbledore considered that, after your… encounter with the cave troll, a day off school wouldn’t go amiss.”

Harry blushed “Professor Dumbledore has them making sweets.”

“Oh Sh...sugaring sugar!” cried Professor Snape, jumping up. He suddenly sighed and sat down again. “Never mind, never mind. I expect he cleaned out the cauldrons thoroughly as, it seems, Ms Parkinson is in good enough condition to write.”

“Chocolate, Sir?” said Harry, offering Professor Snape the box. Severus tapped the carton twice with his wand and, when it glowed white, took a pansy-topped violet cream.

“Just for your information, Mr. Potter, in our 'Potions' period, we will be making a Forgetfulness Draught, which will aid you in writing your essay on Memory potions.”

Harry’s face fell.

“I thought that, for supper tonight, we might bake some profiteroles” Severus said, turning a page of his newspaper. He smirked when, predictably enough, Harry’s grin returned full force.

oOoOo

“Expelliarmus” Harry shouted, knocking Severus’s wand out of his hand. The little boy’s eyes lit up with pride and pleasure: it had been a tough quarter of an hour but achieving this was worth it.

“Very good, Harry.” Severus said with an approving nod. He picked up his wand, brushing the sand off it. “Now you’ve mastered the basic spell, let’s see how much force you can put into this. Ideally, you want my wand to come flying toward you and for me to be knocked over.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sir” said Harry, earnestly.

“That’s why we’re practicing on sand, Harry. Now, come on: imagine my wand coming flying towards you and me falling on my backside. Off we go.”

Harry scrunched up his face in concentration.

“Mr. Potter, you’re casting a spell, not trying to defecate” smirked Severus.

Harry laughed “Sir!”

“Imagine your magic is a golden light which fills every atom of your being. Now, as you breathe in, drag that gold into a ball in your chest and push it out through your wand.”

Ten seconds later, Severus was sitting in the sea, soaked to the skin. Harry, a red, wand-shaped mark on his forehead, was torn between laughter and horror.

“Mr. Potter, remind me never to underestimate you ever again.” Severus stood up, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“That was brilliant, Sir! No one’s ever taught me how to do something like that before!”

Severus cast a quick drying charm on himself and walked up the beach to join Harry.

“Time to move on, I think. The summoning charm is a useful little spell. Observe. Accio bruise salve”

A small pot of green cream flew out of the kitchen window and into Severus’s hand. He scooped up a fingerful and gently applied it to Harry’s forehead, which was beginning to bruise.

“Thanks, Sir”

“No problem Harry,” Professor Snape transfigured a shell into a soft ball and kicked it in front of him “Now: the spell is pronounced ‘A-see-oh’…”

oOoOo

Come lunchtime, Harry had the honour of summoning the picnic hamper onto the beach. ‘Accio’ had been somewhat more difficult to master than Expelliarmus and, for a while, Harry had despaired of ever learning it. However, Professor Snape had been firm and told him nothing worth having is ever easily obtained. Harry had been glad that they stuck with it: just an hour later he had not only the ball but a colossal pile of seashells beside him.

As Harry and Severus arranged the food on the picnic rug, a pretty, copper-coloured owl fluttered down beside him, holding out her leg to offer them a little cream scroll. Severus relieved the owl of her burden, smirking at the pink varnish on her talons, and scanned the letter.

“Well, Harry, it seems that we will have a guest for lunch. Professor Burbage, in fact.”

“Professor Burbage?”

“Curly blond hair, perpetually tanned, wears pink nail varnish…”

“Oh, I’ve seen her, Sir.”

“Yes. Well, I suppose I’d better let her in. Uroborus, admit Charity, Constance Burbage.”

The house shimmered. Severus stood up and walked over to a side gate which connected the house to the cliffside. Opening the door, Severus called out “We’re around here, Professor Burbage.”

“Coming” called the woman, there was a clicking of high heels and Charity Burbage came around the corner in white stilettos, a cream sundress and an immense straw hat.

“Hello Severus, hello Harry, love.”

“Hello Professor Burbage” Severus said pointedly.

Charity gave him an old fashioned look and strode towards Harry, who noticed that her heels didn’t sink into the ground.

“Aren’t you rather cold, Professor?” asked Harry guilelessly.

Charity grinned “I’m an Essex girl, love.” She rooted around in her handbag and pulled out a box “‘Professor’ Snape wrote to us last night, telling us how you were doing. We were right worried about you, after that run-in with the troll. Anyhow, he said how you’d had a nice day shopping at Elb and an afternoon at the beach. I brought you over some trainers as the Professor, here, asked what were a good brand.”

Severus, who had sat down opposite them, passed Charity a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Thanks ‘Professor’.” She said with a wink “How’d you like ‘em, Harry.”

Harry held up a trainer reverently; it was black with cool green thunderbolts running down the sides and lime-green laces. Even when Uncle Vernon was alive, Aunt Petunia had always brought him boring white trainers from bargain basements. Harry had always envied Dudley’s cool, brightly coloured shoes.

“I love them! Thanks Professor Burbage!”

“You’re welcome, love. Now, what have you been up to this morning?”

“We’ve been practicing disarming and summoning charms” Harry grinned “Look: Accio shell”

A beautiful, large, pink seashell flew into Harry’s hand and he shyly handed it to Professor Burbage.

“Wow! That’s brill, Harry. Most second years can’t do that!” she looked at the shell, “Thanks Harry” Charity took her hat off and stuck the seashell on the brim with a sticking charm.

“It looks really nice there, Professor” Harry said proudly.

Severus smirked and handed Harry and Charity each a plate. “We have hard-boiled eggs, cream cheese and pastrami bagels, some potato salad and a wonderful chicken-and-ham pie Harry made last night.”

“You men! I’m putting on weight just looking at all this.” Charity chuckled, taking a slice of pie “This is very good, Harry.”

“Thanks” blushed Harry, ducking his head and taking a mouthful of potato salad.

Severus smiled behind his bagel. Charity was a very good sort.

The rest of the half-term holiday flew by so fast that it was over almost before Harry had realised it had begun.

Every day, Harry was sure to receive at least one owl from Neville, Hagrid or his Slytherin friends. Although some were more open in expressing their emotions, for example Hagrid and Hermione, everyone's letters were incredibly kind and Harry soon had to admit that it seemed like those he loved best genuinely liked him in return: for instance, Draco’s owl arrived every other morning, bearing notes filled with funny anecdotes, like the time when Weasley was being mean to Blaise and Draco, who had the fire breathing chocolates in his pocket, sent a wave of blue flames towards the bully. (Weasley had run, screaming like a girl, and grassed to McGonagall but, when the Deputy-Head heard what Weasley had called Blaise, she made him write a whole two yards on 'The Evils of Homophobia' and another yard on why one should never judge a book by its cover. To add insult to injury, howlers then also arrived from Mrs Weasley and Ron’s uncle Ernie, who were both pretty narky. Draco said Weasley’s face was brighter than his hair and that even Gryffindork-loving Dumbledore had given Weasley a very cool look.)

However, as great as Harry’s friends were, Professor Snape was becoming the light of Harry's life. If, a year ago, Harry had been asked to describe the perfect father, he’d have said someone like Santa Claus; a jolly man who laughed all the time, was open in his emotions and loved, hugged and praised Harry all the time. Now, however, Harry realised how much more special it was, for example, to receive a brief pat on the shoulder from reserved Professor Snape, who didn’t usually seem to like touching people, than it would be from Madam Pomfrey, who was natural hugger. When private, taciturn Professor Snape confided, Harry knew that his teacher trusted him, when Professor Snape praised, Harry knew it was earned, when Professor Snape’s mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes shone with approval, Harry knew that, in his Basilisk’s eyes, he really was a clever, good and special little boy. Father Christmas loved everyone but Professor Snape seemed to like him, Harry, best.

Moreover, Harry’s one-to-one lessons with Professor were fantastic; when not teaching Potions, Professor Snape was a considerably more relaxed tutor. With no children in the immediate vicinity of fire, poisons and explosive matter, the Potions Master’s nervous energy dissipated, leaving him calmer, more patient and with a wit which was wry rather than cutting. The best part of lessons, however, was towards the end of their morning: if they finished early, Professor Snape would show Harry the coolest things. In charms, for example, Professor Snape showed Harry how his pronunciation of a single syllable could make his apple tap-dance rather than ballet: as the fruit- obviously- had no legs, it was the difference between bouncing and twirling or hopping from side to side but it was still dead brilliant, in Harry’s opinion. (They had finished the lesson with the whole bowl of fruit dancing on the table; Harry had laughed himself silly at the can-canning cape-gooseberries, much to Severus’s satisfaction.)

Their leisure hours were also great: some afternoons, Professor Snape warmed the waters of the little bay and gave Harry swimming lessons, other days they visited the local towns, looking around interesting shops, visiting museums and eating Cornish pasties and chips or cream teas in picturesque cafes. And most evenings, whilst supper cooked and the golden sunset painted the sky with pastel shades, Harry and Severus practiced duelling- which the young boy greatly enjoyed. By Friday, Harry was able to disarm, cast a shield and had even managed to do a wandless summoning charm. Professor Snape, pride gleaming in his dark eyes, had said that they must have a party to celebrate and Harry suggested asking Professor Burbage, Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid, who Harry felt he had rather neglected. While he didn’t mind seeing teachers at Uroborus, Harry didn’t want to share his Professor Snape with the other children. Not just yet.

oOoOo

“Allo, Arry m’boy. I’m righ’ pleased to see yeh smiling.” said Hagrid, squeezing the rain out of his beard and onto the porch.

“Hello Hagrid. We’ve been making Professor Snape’s Dad’s famous beer-battered cod, chips and mushy peas. Can’t tell you how, though, because it’s a secret.” enthused Harry, bouncing on his toes.

“Well, now, tha’ sounds a right treat.” Hagrid said, bushy eyebrows creasing in surprise. He hadn’t thought he’s see the day when poor Sev’rus would take a mouthful of fish. “I brung yeh some toffee an’ a flagon of elderflower wine for the Professor.”

“Wow, thanks Hagrid” Harry hugged the box to his chest “Would you like to see Hedwig? I’ve finished laying the table and it isn’t time to start frying the fish and chips yet. Professor Snape says we have to wait ‘til everyone arrives. Hedwig really likes it here, her and Xiao are really good friends now”

“Ah, hello Hagrid” Professor Snape came into the hall, drying his hands on a dishcloth.

“Ello Professor Snape. Got yeh some of me special elderflower wine, I know it is a favourite.” Hagrid replied with gentle smile and a wink.

“Thank you” said Professor Snape mildly, showing no outward sign that he also remembered that incident fifteen years ago, when, after being discovered whilst rascally drunk on Elderflower wine, Severus had buried his face in the half-giant’s shoulder and sobbed out his whole sorry history. Severus had liked and respected Hagrid ever since, despite the genial man’s occasional, good-natured ribbing.

There was another knock on the door.

“I’ll get it” Harry called out, smiling. Although this was his first ever party, Harry knew that the party-boy had to answer the door to guests.

“Hello, Harry. Congratulations on learning your first wandless spell” said Madam Pomfrey, beaming.

“Hey Harry! Looking good in those trainers.” Charity grinned.

“Thanks! Professor Snape and I cooked supper. We’re having Professor Snape’s Dad’s famous beer-battered cod and chips. Oh! And we’ve got mushy peas and an apple pie for pudding.” Harry said proudly.

“Smells delish, Harry.” Charity smiled at Severus, who had helped her take off her cloak. She was wearing a pretty green velvet dress and sandals with jewelled snakes as straps: they constantly coiled and twisted around her ankles. Harry grinned: magic was so cool. “I like your shoes, Professor Burbage!”

“Aw! You’re a love.” Charity smiled, gently ruffling Harry’s hair.

“We’ve got you some flowers for the table.” said Madam Pomfrey, handing Harry a bunch of lilies whilst Hagrid helped her out of her cloak. “Thank you Hagrid.”

“Thanks for the flowers Madam Pomfrey! I really love lilies. Aunt Petunia never had them as she said they’re too messy.” Harry added, blushing and beaming at the Mediwitch.

Madam Pomfrey smiled, though her eyes were sad “Your mother loved them too, Harry dear.”

Professor Snape cleared his throat. “I think that, before supper, we should have a demonstration of Harry’s duelling ability.”

Poppy, Hagrid and Charity followed Harry and Severus up the stairs and into the Duelling room: a long, pale blue gallery with a well-padded floor.

After Harry and Severus bowed to each other, Harry, striking a noble pose (which caused Charity’s eyes to glaze with the effort of suppressing giggles) dramatically cast ‘expelliarmus’. Severus’s wand flew into Harry’s hand and Charity ‘ooohed’ while Poppy, Hagrid and Snape clapped.

Professor Snape summoned his wand and cast a mild ‘Jelly Legs’ jinx, which Harry deflected with an enthusiastically yelled ‘Protego!’

“Good goin’, Harry!” called Hagrid, sending a covert ‘thumbs up’ to Professor Snape.

Harry threw his wand into the corner of the room, cried ‘Accio wand’ and grinned proudly as it came boomeranging back into his hand.

“Brilliant Harry!” smiled Charity.

“Tha’ great work, lad, I’m right proud of you!”

“Well done, Harry!”

But Harry only had eyes for Professor Snape, who nodded and gave him a special kind of smile. A smile which Harry thought, hoped, wished was similar to the smile Vernon had given Dudley when he’d first ridden a bike without stabilisers. A smile of pure, paternal pride.

oOoOo

Harry lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His party had been the best: Professor Burbage, Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid had declared the fish and chips the nicest they’d ever eaten and Professor Snape had said Harry’d done a fine job on the mushy peas.

It had been such a wonderful week and, for the first time in his life, the prospect of going back to school did not fill Harry with delight. He liked Uroborus; besides being a beautiful house, it also felt like home and, whilst he was here, Harry could pretend Professor Snape was his Dad. Sometimes, as a great treat, he even called the Professor that in his head.

‘Which is disloyal to your real father’ a little voice said in Harry’s head ‘Your father who died for you. You’re such a bad son.”

*“I’m not!”* Harry whispered, burying his face in his pillow. He reached out to his bedside table and snagged a leather-bound book, hugging the soft, squashy cover to his chest. After the Duelling demonstration, Professor Snape had given him a reproduction of the Exeter book, with the riddles written in Old English on one side and modern English on the other. Later on, when their guests had returned to Hogwarts, Professor Snape had said Harry that, if he liked, Harry could work on solving one riddle each week and then discuss the riddle over Saturday afternoon-tea with Professor Snape.

There were ninety-five riddles in the Exeter Book.

‘He probably is only being nice to you because it’s his job’ the voice taunted ‘He’d think you were pathetic if he knew you called him Dad. In fact, he’d be so disgusted that he’d probably do the same as Aunt Petunia…’

*“Shut up! He would never!”* whimpered Harry, clutching the volume tightly.

*“Freezzzing raindrops chill each ssscale,
Icy earth and bruising hail,
Husssh my hatchling, do not wail,
Curl up; your head under your tail.”*

Harry looked up; who was that singing?

*“Winter winds will not prevail,
Sssummer comes to hill and dale,
Husssh my hatching, do not wail,
Curl up; your head under your tail”*

Harry climbed out of bed, slipping his feet into his slippers. The voice was soft and sibilant, a little higher than Professor Snape’s baritone and slightly more clipped, yet still very melodic. Harry tiptoed across the landing and up a flight of stairs, following the song.

*“Sssun-warm rocks, ssoft, ssummer rain,
The light prevailsss once again,
Come Hatchling, do not remain,
The world once more iss your domain”*

Harry looked up into the green eyes of Salazar Slytherin and the portrait smiled down upon him kindly.

*“You have my eyesss, ssnakelet, are you of my blood?”* the old wizard asked in Parseltongue.

*“No Sssir… That iss, I don’t know… My hatcher, ssshe was a muggleborn, you sssee, and my eyess are like herss. Or sso I'm told. She died when I was a hatchling”*

*“Ah. Well, there iss often a drop or two of magical blood in every muggleborn witch or wizard. It might be mine that gave her and you thossse eyess. Now, sssnakelet, why do you schccch?”* hissed Slytherin.

*“Hurtss insside my heart. My head sssays bad thingss about me.”*

*“What bad thingss, sssnakelet?”*

*“That I’m wicked, kin-biting wretch. That I deserved to be bitten and left in frost with no meat. That Basilisk doessn’t really love me or want me.”* schcched Harry sadly.

*“Who bit you? Who left you in the frost? Who denied you meat? Not your Basilisk?!” spat Slytherin furiously.

*“No! Not my Basilisk. Basilisk gave me meat and repaired my skin! He is warm to me, like I am hisss snakelet.”*

*“Who hurt you? Does your Bassilisssk know? Has venom been given unto them?”* Slytherin insisted, still irate.

*“Yess! Venom was given unto False-hatcher but I am not sad. Kin-biting, wretched!”*

*“No! False-hatcher is the kin-biting wretch. Not sssnakelet!”* hissed Slytherin reassuringly. *“You are just a snakelet: no kinsss-blood is on your fangsss. A sssnakelet needing much warmth.”*

*“I don’t want to go back to big-nest. I want to sstay in ssmall nesst with my Bassilissk.”*

*“Many ssnakelesss wisssh to sstay here, yet you musst grow and earn much knowledge, so that you can give venom onto them who would bite you or your snakelets.”* Slytherin hissed. “You will return to Uroborusss, your Bassilissk hass much warmth for you.”*

*“Really?”*

*“Yess. Hiss false-hatcher bit him ass your false-hatcher bit you; he hasss little warmth but you are like the sssun to him, you warm hiss ssscalesss.”*

Harry smiled and yawned. Slytherin started to sing again softly *“Winter winds will not prevail, Sssummer comes to hill and dale…”*

When Severus ran into Slytherin’s chamber the next morning, after a frantic search for his erstwhile charge, he found both boy and portrait happily asleep, basking in the rays of the morning sun.

Petunia grabbed her mouthwash and swigged it back, trying to rinse the foul taste out of her tongue. She almost choked when a fanged, bearded head face glared out from her bathroom mirror, raising clawed hands and leering menacingly.

“Hisssssssssssssssssssssssss!”

“Arrgh!”

oOoOo

‘Ubi terrarum esses, Praeceptor Slytherin?”

The portrait opened his eyes “Ah, my aluminus, why do you call me?” Salazar replied in Latin, doing his best to look innocent.

“Where were you? I know you do not need to sleep.” Severus asked in a long suffering voice.

Salazar smirked “I called upon the kin-biter.”

“Indeed. I can imagine, then, that young master Potter has spoken to you about his Aunt?”

“Potter… is not that the name of the child who vanquished my heir?” asked Salazar curiously.

“Indeed.” Severus’s lips thinned.

“It is no wonder the poor boy cries in the night; so many enemies, including himself.” the ancient mage said sadly, shaking his head.

“Harry thinks that he is to blame for the abuse he suffered at the hands of his Aunt.” Severus sighed, tucking a blanket around Harry, who was lying on the sun-faded silk of Slytherin’s bed.

“Often it is so. Yet, I read that he is recovering.”

“You legilimensed him?” Severus asked, in concerned surprise.

“Only a little, I needed to know where his Aunt was to be found. What I saw of you impressed me, young Severus. You uphold the duty well, my child.”

“I wasn’t aware that it was possible for a portrait to do that.” Severus said, fixing Slytherin with a glare.

“It is also not normally possible for a portrait enter muggle frames” snickered Slytherin “Yet I can do so if I choose. I was lucky in my painter.”

The old mage’s face became solemn “The boy is unhappy to leave Uroborus, young Snape. He can remember neither home nor father” Severus started “Oh yes, my aluminus, little Harry wants you for his father but he is scared that you will reject him.”

“I would not.” Severus replied firmly “However, I am not exactly the paternal type and, in my position, it would be fool-hardy to develop close relationships, particularly paternal ones and especially when the child in question is ‘the boy who lived’.”

“Some things are more important than revenge” counselled Salazar “His mother would not, I believe, think you owed any debt to her but, if you insist on penitence, give this child a father. Others can fight my heir but only you, it seems, can nurture this little child.”

Severus sat down on the pale-green bedding “How..?”

“I have another portrait in the Headmaster’s study.” Slytherin said quietly “I hear much from there, though I do not often reveal myself.”

Severus studied the moth-eaten, emerald carpet, his shoulders hunched.

“In time, you will look back on your teenage self and see, not the man you are, but a mere child who must be pitied” Salazar said gently “Dumbledore’s treatment of you has always angered me. Your decision to follow my heir was foolish, yet you were a mere snakelet and, moreover, one aching from neglect, abuse, heartbreak and betrayal. What right had he to judge so harshly?”

“I was old enough to know what Voldemort was and to understand the evil of his actions, yet I joined him, aided him, spied for him. I can never forget that I have innocent blood on my hands.” Severus said harshly “I am not fit to be a father.”

“And Dumbledore is not fit to be a headmaster, nor is Harry suitable for the role of savour. Yet fate has cast them in those positions as there are none more suitable overall than they. Harry has chosen you for his father: if you cannot love him, merely continue as you are for poor Harry will be happy and grateful for any scraps of affection you choose to throw him. Yet, if you could love him, then give him a family to call his own.”

“How could anyone not love Harry, he is a dear little boy, yet…”

“Yet it frightens you to open your heart again?” Salazar asked softly.

“I do not even know if I can.” Severus said, looking sad.

Salazar nodded “There is a draw in the dressing table, if you just feel under the rim of the tabletop, the catch is towards the bed."

Severus ran his fingers under the cunningly curled, protruding rim of the bedside table. He heard a click.

“There is a little gold locket, about the size of a cuckoo egg. Mind the dagger: it bears the last of my father’s venom.” Slytherin added helpfully.

Severus held up the small locket, which bore a serpentine ‘s’ picked out in emeralds.

“A little gift for the boy. It bears a piece of my canvas inside, allowing me to converse with whoever holds it.” Slytherin explained “I can talk to Harry, when the voices return to him at night.”

“I would not wish for it to be widely known that Harry is a Parselmouth.” Severus said carefully “It might engender prejudice. The wizarding world is very fickle and suspicious: today’s heroes can too easily become tomorrow’s villains.”

“Get him a pet snake, one who is noisy.” Suggested Slytherin with a shrug. “It’s hissing will disguise ours. Oh, and on that point… maybe Harry should meet Mr. Hissy?”

“‘Mr Hissy’?”

“My little basilisk. Named him after Godric ‘Hissy fit’ Gryffindor." Salazar snickered, then in a more serious tone continued: "Poor Hissy is still in the bowels of Hogwarts: he might be a good ally for young Harry, considering the boy’s enemies. He’s very well trained, you know!” Slytherin finished truculently, noticing the incredulous expression on Severus’s face.

“If I say no, you would simply encourage Harry to find him anyway, wouldn’t you?” Severus said, rubbing his temples.

“If you forbade it, I expect young Harry would obey you, even if it were against his inclination” Salazar admitted “I just ask that you consider it: if ‘Voldemort’ decided to attack Hogwarts, he might enchant poor Hissy and use him against Harry: the kin-biting wretch did it before, you know, he forced Hissy to kill little Myrtle Henderson. However, if I tell Hissy to accept Harry, he would be immune to Voldemort’s enchantments and could even protect the boy.”

The Potions Master sighed. “I will seriously consider it. Now, as the Magical Menagerie closes at noon on Sundays, I think it’s high time that Harry and I were on our way.”

“Very well, Severus. You’re a good boy. I expect I will see you and young Harry again in the near future but, as for now, duty calls.” The old Professor closed his eyes with a smirk: as far as he was concerned, Petunia Dursley’s problems were only just beginning.

“Wow! Polyjuice potion is dead brilliant, sir!” he said, lisping slightly around the unfamiliar teeth.

“Indeed it is, Harry” said Severus, adjusting the waistband of his cords to fit his beer-belly more comfortably. “Now, who are you?”

“I am Ben Jones, I’m thirteen years old and I am home schooled by my parents, Lola and Evan Jones in Fairfield, Maine. I am visiting my muggle Grandpa Jones who lives in Caerphilly in South Wales.” Harry parroted.

“Well done.” Severus said, tapping Harry lightly on the head with his wand.

“Why did you… Oh, wow! I sound American! Oh this is so cool!” enthused Harry.

Severus smirked “Come on, now, grandson of mine, or we’ll miss the shops.”

Harry beamed at the blue eyed, grizzle-bearded, old man. This day was turning out to be dead brilliant: not only was he getting a snake of his very own, Professor Snape had just, very nearly, called Harry his son!

oOoOo

“We’ll be wanting to see your Snakes, Sir.” Severus said, walking up to the tills of the Magical Menagerie. “Me grandson wants one.”

“Very well, Sir.” The sandy-haired shop assistant replied politely. “The snakes are kept in our conservatory, it’s through the green doors on the left. Hippocrates, our snake-handler, will be able to advice you on the suitability of our current stock.” The shop assistant hesitated, then said “He is a parselmouth but quite harmless.”

As Severus and Harry walked through the shop, Harry turned to his teacher and asked “What’s a parselmouth?”

“Someone who can speak the language of snakes.” Severus replied; he had been hoping to avoid this conversation, at least until they got home.

“Oh! But why did that man think we’d be afraid of the snake-guy because of it?”

“Because, generally speaking, humans are irrational, Ben: they often fear harmless things; tiny money-spiders, single magpies, stepping on cracks in the pavement. There are people who’d rather walk into traffic than pass under a ladder. Snakes have, as I mentioned in my opening speech, long been associated with dark wizards in the minds of the ignorant and, therefore, those who can speak to snakes are often regarded with suspicion. It also did not help that He-who-must-not-be-named was a parselmouth.”

Harry looked thoughtful “But, si… Grandad, Slytherin was a parselmouth.”

“Indeed, as were many other great and good mages. Flamel, it is believed, discovered two of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood through conversing with a rather charming wyrm, that is a dragon-basilisk hybrid.”

“Cool!”

The conservatory was a light, bright room, festooned with vines, carpeted with soft, springy grass and bordered with a deep, shimmering stream. There were snakes everywhere, sun-bathing on rocks, coiling around trees and some were even swimming.

“Hello!” a small, bald man with a prominent jaw scuttled up, smiling broadly. “You’ve come to see my little snakes, how charming. I’m Hippocrates, how can I help you today?”

“How come none of the snakes are attacking each other?” asked Harry, looking around in wonder at the harmonious contentment in which the hundred or so snakes were living.

“Oh, they’re all very good creatures and quite biddable. Being a parselmouth has some advantages.” Hippocrates added sadly.

“I’m a parselmouth too, Sir” Harry said compassionately “People seem to be very dumb about snakes.”

“In more ways than one” Severus added quietly.

“Oh, my boy” the elderly man said, his voice trembling “It is so good to meet another speaker. Yes, there is a lot of prejudice against us and most of the few conceal their abilities, as I advise you to do. However, it is they who should be ashamed, not us: you should be very proud to bear this most marvellous gift.”

Severus nodded, “Indeed. My young grandson wants a familiar. Something not too big but capable of defending itself. Good natured and non venomous.” he added firmly.

“Yes, very good. I’d usually suggest a corn snake for a beginner. Sweet natured little dears and so easy to care for. However, a parselmouth, you could comfortably begin with a python. We have some nice little ball pythons, python regius, just in; friendly little souls, they are, but still quite impressive.” Hippocrates winked a violet eye “I know what you young un’s are like.”

“Very well.” Severus nodded. The snake handler whistled, a strange, hissing whistle which had the parseltongue for ‘ball’ and ‘king’ and several slender, foot-long snakes untwined themselves from various trees, uncurled from rocks and, in one case, slid out of the river and slithered towards Hippocrates, stopping at his feet and raising their tiny, triangular heads.

*“Yes, ssspeaker”* said a pretty, white female with golden markings and garnet eyes.

*“Here ssspeaker”* hissed a golden male with black patches.

*“Hello ssspeaker”* pshssed a little grey female with green ring-like markings.

*“I was ssssssleeping”* sccchhed a brown and black male irritably.

*“I am here! I am here! I am heeeeeere!”* fizzed a bright-eyed male whose navy scales were blotched with sunset yellow.

*“Hello ssssnakes!”* said Harry brightly.

*“Ooooh!”* the young snakes chorused, wide eyed.

*“Yes, we have a speaker here to choose a familiar. Come and say hello, snakelets.”*

The little blue and gold male slithered over to Harry and wound around his ankle, leaving a damp trail.

*“Blue”* hissed the white and gold female *“You made the two-legs wet!”*

*“Ssssilly blue, alwaysss sssilly”* hissed the brown and black male, rolling his eyes.

*“Oh! Sorry two-legs! I was swimming. I like the water. Do you like swimming too?”* the navy snake hissed excitedly.

Harry picked up the little python, who flicked his tongue against the boy’s nose.

*“Oooh! You taste of salty air! You live by the big-water! Ssswimming!”*

*“I like ssswimming. My bassilissk ssswimsss with me.”* Harry confided, grinning at the gregarious little creature.

The gold and white female and the gold and black male approached Harry and slithered gently up his legs and body, coiling carefully until they could loop over his arm and neck. The green ringed female twined around Harry’s ankle whilst the brown and black snake flicked his tongue out close to Harry’s shoe.

Harry beamed at Severus, who smiled wryly at the snake adorned boy. “It seems that you are quite the favourite, Ben.”

*“Is big two legs your Bassilissk?”* asked the navy snake curiously. *“Sssmellss too young for grey ssscaless.”*

Harry laughed, petting the little snake’s head gently. *“Yesss, he isss my basssilissk.”*

*“Oooh! Feelssss good”* pssshed ‘blue’, leaning into the caress *“You can be mine please?”*

The other snakes hissed with laughter. *“He isss a nice two-legs but not my two-legss”* replied the garnet-eyed female. *“I think he iss for blue.”*

*“Yessss. Nice but not right for me”* replied the gold and black male, the other two snakes nodded. *“Goodbye, blue, be good for speaker.”*

*“Bye speaker, bye-bye blue”* added the white and gold female.

*“Swim together and be happy”* pssshed the green ringed female, sweetly.

*“Bye blue, don’t keep your two-legsss up with your ssssilly sssinging or he might drown you in the big-water”* smirked the brown and black snake, slithering towards his tree.

*“I wouldn’t!”* Harry said earnestly to the little snake, who was nuzzling his cheek gently.

“I think they’ve sorted it out amongst themselves” said Hippocrates to Severus “That little male is a particular favourite of mine, nice little chap though a trifle noisy and excitable but always gentle. He’ll do well with the boy.”

“The other pythons say his name is ‘Blue’,” Harry added shyly “He’s really nice.”

Severus smirked “I think that’s my cue to take over on the less important business of paying for him and his accoutrements.”

“Ah, it is always the case, Sir. They choose ‘em, we pay for them and often end up doing most of the caring.” smiled Hippocrates. “‘Blue’ is just what the other snakes call him, lad, he hasn’t got a human name yet. He’ll be with you for quite some years, so you want to choose his name carefully.”

Half an hour later, Severus and Harry walked out of the Magical Menagerie with full-pockets, a considerably lighter money pouch and ‘blue’ (as he was temporarily known) looped happily around Harry’s shoulders, sniffing inquisitively at the air. They did not need a vivarium as ‘blue’ would be no less safe than a dog, being magically trained and under the guidance of a parselmouth, but he did need somewhere to sleep: ‘Blue’ had chosen his bedding, Cyprus bark, and a comfortable bed (a large, magically-heated, moss-lined piece of tree-trunk, mounted on a square of wood). Then there were a number of essential bits and pieces, like a book on Ball Pythons, a litter tray, woodchip litter, a drinking bowl and a stasis box containing a months’ worth of food. (Harry thought it would be kind of icky feeding his new snake dead mice but, then again, ‘blue’ was definitely worth the effort.)

“Have you picked out a name for him?” asked Severus, as they waited for their portkey- an ancient boot- to activate.

“I was thinking… maybe Regulus. It’s was the first star I saw in Astronomy” Harry replied shyly. “And it sounds a little like ‘blue’s’ Latin name.”

Slytherin Harry Potter’s pet snake being named after the brightest star in the constellation of Leo, Severus thought wryly, I wonder what sort of omen will be inferred from that?

“A good choice, what do you think, Reggie?” said Severus, touching Regulus’ head gently; the little snake instinctively shied, then leant in to the touch.

“He really likes you, Sir” beamed Harry.

Severus hesitated, then put an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “So he does, my snakelet, so he does.”

oOoOo

“Will I ever come back here, Sir?” asked Harry, as he stood outside the front-door of Uroborus, with Hedwig’s cage in one hand and Reggie coiled around the other.

(*“Hello birdie”* hissed Reggie. Hedwig snapped her beak and turned her back on him. *“Bad-tempered grumpy. I won’t bite Harry’s friends”* sssshhed the little snake sadly, tucking his head under Harry’s chin.)

“Of course, Harry. We will probably spend time here during most holidays: I have a house in Spinner’s End, Worcestershire, but considering that this is known to certain unfortuntates, I’d prefer not to take you there.”

Harry’s face was suffused with joy “Really, Sir? I’ll be with you every holiday?”

“Yes, Harry, very probably.” Severus fished Slytherin’s locket out of his jacket pocket and placed it around Harry’s neck “This is a gift from Salazar Slytherin: a piece of his canvas is inside so, if you speak in Parseltongue, he will be able to talk to you."

Harry gazed in awe at the beautiful, ancient locket which glimmered in the golden sunset. "Thank you, Sir. It's so valuable, though."

"Slytherin, himself, told me to give it to you." smiled Severus "He wanted to be there for you, if you needed him."

Harry looked up, his eyes bright with emotion.

Severus gently ruffled the boy's hair "You are very dear to a lot of people, Harry."

"Thank you, Sir"

"You are welcome. However, for the time being, it would be better if no one else finds out about your gift, so only use Parseltongue when you are around Reggie.”

“Okay, Sir.” Harry beamed, pressing a kiss on Reggie’s soft-scaled head.

*“Why is my name sssaid?”* Asked Reggie, who had learnt two words of human: Harry’s name and his own.

*“My Bassilissk wantsss you to know that you can sssing lotssss”* Harry explained.

*“Ohhh!”* cried Reggie happily, his dark eyes dancing *“I love sssinging! I’m a python I like to ssswim, ssswim in the water, ssswim, ssswim, ssswim…”*

Hedwig ground her beak. Damn, noisy serpents.

To: L. Malfoy
From: D. Malfoy

10th November

Dear Daddy,

Harry returned to Hogwarts this evening. I must admit that was a little nervous about seeing him again: although, having been raised as a Malfoy, introductions do not fluster me in the slightest, I wasn’t quite sure how I should behave with Harry. I know that you would tell me to act as if everything was normal but it's really rather difficult to perform when one's amongst one's closest friends. I felt sure that I would sound so artificial and that it would be really awkward.

However, when Harry came through the door he had the most beautiful snake around his neck, a lovely little Ball Python called ‘Reggie’, and it felt the most natural thing in the world to go up and say hello to the snake and start talking to Harry about him. In no time we were all sitting around the fire, stroking Reggie and talking about what we did over half term. Harry seems so much happier, which is a relief as I was really quite concerned about him for a while. Professor Snape taught him to disarm, cast a shield and even summon wandlessly! I’m so jealous but, if anyone deserves a nice holiday, it was Harry. Can I invite him over for Christmas?

By the by, I was wondering whether, as I didn’t get a present for being inducted into Slytherin, I might be allowed to have a snake? Professor Snape won’t mind me having one as a familiar, I’m sure; Harry does have a snake, after all and I expect little Reggie could use some company. And, really, it’d be a great shame if a Potter (whose family is, as you know, traditionally Gryffindor) has a snake while his Malfoy best-friend doesn’t: Malfoys have always been Slytherins and, to keep the side up, I really should have a snake familiar too. I was thinking of a King Cobra: they’re very intelligent and would be a great bodyguard for me and Harry. (His Reggie is only little and non-venomous as well, which I think is a terrible oversight considering his situation. Of course, as Harry Potter’s best friend I might also be danger so, really, it would only be sensible to get me a King Cobra.)

Continued:

Oh dear, Harry just tried to feed a mouse to Reggie; as it was dead, Harry had to hold it out to Reggie and, when Reggie lunged, Harry jumped back and the mouse fell behind him. And he stood on it!!! (Lucky that it was already dead, really.) I, of course, helped by cleaning up the poor squashed thing and cast a cleaning charm on Harry’s shoes. I’m not at all squeamish so, really, I think I’d make an excellent snake handler.

With fondest regards to Mummy,

Love Draco.

oOoOo

To: Draco Malfoy
From: Daddy

11th November

Dearest Draco,

Over the last eleven years, your mother and I have grown very fond of you. I suppose one could say that we have become used to having you around. Moreover, I have already brought all your Yule presents and cannot get refunds. Therefore, I really think that it would be for the best if you remained in the land of the upright and breathing for the foreseeable future.

So, no, you cannot have a King Cobra.

Although I did buy you a familiar on your admission to Hogwarts, I am quite willing to also give you a snake; indeed, one would be a good familiar for you and a friend for Harry’s little Reggie. However, Dumbledore would never allow a snake so dangerous as a King Cobra past the castle gates and, for once, I must say that I agree with this policy. If you want to poison yourself, take a Mastery in Potions.

And before you write back extolling the benefits of keeping a King Cobra, I deem it wise to remind you that they EAT other snakes, especially small, non venomous ones like, just as a completely random example, Ball Pythons (i.e. Reggie.) I believe that you would be somewhat upset if you lost Harry’s friendship as soon as you had regained it.

I am glad that Harry is feeling better and of course you can invite him to stay over Christmas. (I will also be extending the invitation to Professor Snape.)

Love Daddy x

oOoOo

To: L. Malfoy
From: D. Malfoy

11th November

Dearest Daddy,

Thank you so much for promising me a snake!

I’m so excited: I really love Reggie, who is incredibly sweet, but it would be just wonderful to have one of my own. I must admit that I hadn’t considered that a Cobra might hurt Reggie. However, as long as I keep a beazor on me at all times, I really do think that a venomous snake would be best. Hogwarts is very dangerous: only last week Harry was attacked by a troll and the gamekeeper, Hagrid, keeps all sorts of wild beasts and we are right on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Besides, while everyone decent wouldn’t dream of hurting Harry, there are some people, you know, who are crazy enough to try it and, as Harry’s best friend, I would have to defend him. So a poisonous snake really is a wise precaution as it could protect us.

I’d quite like a Naja Naja: they are on our Coat of Arms, after all. Indeed, now I think about it, it really would be quite shameful if a Malfoy had any other type of snake.

Lots of Love,

Draco.

OoOoO

To: Draco Malfoy
From: Lucius Malfoy

19.00 hours, 11th November

Dear Draco,

Have you considered that, if you are in so much danger merely by being Harry Potter’s best-friend, that I might forbid you from associating with him?

I will consider your point on venomous snakes. However I will not allow you a cobra of any description. No, not even a Naja Naja. They are depicted on our Coat of Arms for a reason, Draco. (If you need a clue, our motto is ‘Nemo me impune lacessit’ or ‘No one harms me with impunity.’)

Love Daddy.

oOoOo

To: Mummy
From: Draco

21.00 hours, 11th November

Dear Mummy,

Daddy’s being really mean! He’s threatened to forbid me from seeing Harry! All because I asked for a stupid snake.

I’ll look really stupid if everyone else in Slytherin has a snake and I don’t. Harry’s got one, Theo’s getting one and even Pansy’s getting a snake! She said so earlier this evening.

I don’t see why I’m not allowed a venomous snake when Theo’s getting one. I’ll look a real sissy if all I have is something like a corn snake!

Love Draco.

oOoOo

From the desk of Narcissa Malfoy

12th November

Darling Draco,

Daddy was just teasing; of course we would not forbid you from being friends with dear, little Harry. However, my Dragon, I do hope that you will be careful and not follow your friend into danger; discretion is the better part of valour.

Daddy has spoken to Mr Nott, Theodore’s father and, apparently, he has selected a Puget Sound Garter Snake for Theo; garter snake venom is not harmful to humans and, therefore, the snake will be quite innocuous. Severus, as you know, gave Harry a python and Mr Parkinson is buying a nice Lavender Corn-snake for Pansy, again not dangerous species. I am sure that you would not lose status, Draco, by owning only a mildly dangerous snake.

Write a nice letter of apology to your father; you know how it upsets him when you quarrel.

Love Mummy xxx

oOoOo

To: L. Malfoy
From: D. Malfoy

12th November

Dear Daddy,

I am so sorry that I got upset and cross; I was just worried that you wouldn’t let Harry be my best friend anymore and I over-reacted. I really missed Harry when he wasn’t talking to me.

I just wanted a venomous snake because I thought it would be cool. You’ve always said that people should look up to our family and I thought, if I had the most powerful familiar, it’d be really brilliant. Besides, I really do want to look after Harry; I think his Aunt was really mean to him and I don’t want anyone else to hurt him. I was really scared when I heard that he'd been attacked by the troll.

I love you,

Draco.

p.s. Blaise suggested that a Black Mamba might be a good beginner’s snake.

oOoOo

To: B. Zabini
From: L. Malfoy

12th November

Dear Blaise,

I have just spoken to your mother who, I must say, was highly amused by your suggestion. May I comment that your little deception was cruel, uncalled for and devastatingly Slytherin.

Please explain your joke to my son.

Yours respectfully,

L. Malfoy.

oOoOo

To: S. Snape
From: L. Malfoy

12th November

Dear Severus,

Draco has been pestering me for a venomous snake for the past few days and, I fear, I will not have a moments peace until I procure something sufficiently deadly. What would be your position on a Belchers Water Snake (Hydrophis Belcheri)?

Admittedly, Hydrophis Belcheri is the most poisonous serpent known to wizardkind but Guinevere Zabini, who, as you know, is an internationally renowned expert on venomous snakes, has informed me that Hydrophis Belcheri are remarkably docile: one has to practically pummel the buggers before they’ll decide to bite and, even then, there is a one in four chance that they’ll actually choose to secrete venom. The Hufflepuff of serpents, what?

Hippocrates Schlange has a nice little specimen who, he says, is exceptionally good natured even for a Hydrophis Belcheri. She can be supplied in a shatterproof aquarium and, of course, spells will be added to ensure that she cannot get out and no one other than Draco can enter her aquarium. Draco will, of course, be forbidden from handling her unless he (and anyone else in the room) has a bezoar in his/their mouths.

The serpent eats fish and, naturally, you can examine her if you so wish. I would be very grateful, old friend, if you can give me an affirmative and sooner rather than later. Once Draco has got an idea into his head, he’s worse than old Marmaduke with a bone.

Yours Sincerely,

Lucius.

Postscript: Cissa has reminded me that I was supposed to invite you and young Harry for Christmas. It would be wonderful to see you again and to finally meet the young man of whom Draco has been telling me so much. Shameful business about Harry’s Aunt; people like that should be publicly flogged. I haven’t mentioned anything about Harry's history to Draco, of course. L.

It had been no small relief to Harry that the Slytherins all acted like the last month or so hadn’t happened. No one said anything to Harry about his strange behaviour and nobody treated Harry too differently from the way that they had during the first fortnight of term: Pansy, Tracy and Daphne were still friendly but they did not seek Harry out, while Greg, Vin and Milly still shared the odd joke, asked his advice on homework and saved him the last of the treacle tart. Theo and Hermione drew Harry back into their study sessions, walked him to the library and often sat with him in class. Blaise and Draco were as friendly as ever and, apart from a minor upset on Draco’s part, evolving from a deep and burning desire for a dangerous snake, his father’s not unreasonable refusal and Blaise’s teasing suggestion that a Black Mamba (a highly aggressive, incredibly venomous species) might make a good pet, all was harmonious amongst the Snakes.

Outside the Nest, things weren’t all that bad either; the teachers were all highly impressed by Harry’s homework, Professor Snape, while having reverted back to his class-room persona, always had a special, secret smile for Harry and the Gryffs weren’t too bad, though Weasley had taken to calling him a teacher’s pet. Harry didn’t mind, though; he’d rather be a ‘teacher’s pet’ and have the ‘Uroborous’ Professor Snape than not.

While Harry’s days spent were spent learning, his evenings were filled with fun; Draco’s little club to introduce Harry and Hermione to Wizarding Culture, which had been on hiatus since Harry’s decline, started up again and all the Slytherin First years joined in; Blaise, Theo and Milly attended every meetings and, depending on the subject being discussed, the others would join. (Daphne and Pansy enjoyed stuff like music and plays, Tracy and Vin liked Art, Greg and Daphne joined in on talks about animals and Pansy and Tracy were keen on Wizarding fashion.) The little group went from strength to strength, especially when Blaise discovered that Harry knew how to disarm, cast a shield charm and summon wandlessly: every First year and even some of the Second and Third Years, gathered around when Harry, blushing, gave a demonstration and explained how to cast the spells.

And, at night, when Harry felt insecure or unhappy, he’s sit in bed, with the curtains closed him, talking to Salazar whilst Reggie cuddled him and pressed Snake kisses on his cheek. Salazar was invariably kind but he was also pretty stern; he wouldn’t allow Harry to be ‘self-indulgent’ or irrational, so Harry swiftly learnt to answer the ‘voices’ with cool logic rather than emotion. Although it was tough at first, it soon paid off as, the more Harry argued his corner, the more he was convinced that Salazar and Professor Snape had been right; that he was a good, nice boy who deserved to be loved, provided for and protected. Reggie too, helped heal the wounds in Harry’s psyche; although a young, rather happy-go-lucky snake, Reggie knew that some mothers bit and rejected their hatchlings and, when he heard Harry speaking to Salazar, he soon worked out that his poor two-legs had been badly bitten by a false-mother. While initially almost wild with fury, Reggie, being a biddable little creature, accepted that it was Salazar’s prerogative, as Basilisk, to avenge Harry and took it as his solemn duty to comfort Harry and sing him lullabies all night, every night, so as to disguise the occasional hissing of Parseltongue when the young boy opened his locket.

Thus, Saturday dawned far sooner than Harry could have believed possible on leaving Uroborus. Lying in bed, listening to Reggie hissing softly in his sleep, and enjoying the sensation of sunbeams combing their warmth through his hair, Harry studied his first riddle. It was a curious one and, at first, Harry thought it must be some sort of water dragon: the roaring rampage in which the riddler wrecked huts and palaces sounded sort of like something a dragon would do. However, Professor Snape had said that, in the Exeter book, the poems were all very tricky and made themselves out to be something else entirely.

*“Sssalazar?”* Harry whispered, opening the golden locket.

*“Yess, Sssnakelet?”*

*“Have you heard of the Exeter Book?”*

*“I helped write part of it”* snisshed Slytherin, wryly. *“And I won’t help you, Sssnakeling, you must learn to think for yourself. By the way, there’sss a very interesssting debate going on in the Big-Basssilisssk’ss Nessst: one of the hatchling’sss Bassilisskss, big-gold-ssssnake, wants hiss sssnakelet to have a water-snake-familiar and the big-bassilissk won’t have it! Ah, and now your bassilissk hasss arrived. Oh the hissssing and ssspitting! Good sssshow!”*

Harry giggled and turned back to his riddle. He couldn’t wait to see his basilisk again.

oOoOo

“Ah, good afternoon, Harry” said Severus, opening the door with a brief smile. Harry entered and was surprised to see a tall, grey-eyed man whose long, bright hair was just the same shade as Draco’s.

“Mr Potter, let me introduce Mr Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, Mr Harry Potter.”

“Good afternoon, Master Potter” said Lucius, extending a silver-suede gloved hand. Harry shook it shyly.

“Hello, Sir! Draco talks about you all the time. Thank you for the quill and all the sweets and stuff.” Harry burbled, reddening.

“You are very welcome, Master Potter.” Lucius turned to Severus. “I will leave you to your studies, gentlemen, thank you Severus.”

When Lucius had stepped into the floo, Severus indicated a chair to Harry.

“What shall we order for tea, Harry”

“Please, Sir, can we have some eccles cakes?”

“Of course, Harry.” Severus poured Harry’s tea in the green cup; it was funny, really, how the human mind worked. The green cup had always been his and, now, he found himself reserving it for Harry. As Severus added a teaspoon of sugar, he idly wondered whether his father had always given him his tea in that particular cup for the same reason.

“Um, Salazar said that the Headmaster didn’t want Draco to have a water snake” Harry offered shyly.

Severus raised an eyebrow “He really does get worse every year. I suppose it is a small blessing that Salazar doesn’t fully understand modern English or no secret would be safe.” Severus sighed, deciding that the horse had truly bolted, “Yes, Harry, Mr Malfoy called on Professor Dumbledore today to persuade him to allow Draco to keep a Hydrophis Belcheri. I expect that was how Slytherin got the gist of what was being discussed: ‘Hydrophis’ meaning ‘sea snake’ in Latin.”

“Oh, Draco really wants a snake” said Harry eagerly “he got dead upset on Monday because his Dad was cross with him and Draco thought he wouldn’t be allowed to have one at all, then Blaise, who thought Draco was dumb, getting so uptight over having a poisonous snake, told him to ask for a black mamba, which are well poisonous and real mean, like Aunt Petunia. And, when Draco found out, he was dead cross with Blaise for a bit but, then, on Wednesday morning, Draco received an owl from his dad which said that Madam Zambini, Blaise’s mum, had suggested something far more impressive than a cobra but he had to get Dumbledore to agree first. It was kind of a relief as Draco had been very angry at Blaise for fibbing and, when the owl came, Draco forgave Blaise because, if Blaise hadn’t fibbed, Draco’s dad wouldn’t have talked to Blaise’s mum and Draco wouldn’t be getting a cool snake. He’s decided to name it Isis if it’s a girl and Dahn if it’s a boy!”

Severus smiled; where was the poor, timid child of last week who would scarcely utter a word without cringing?

“So I have gathered, Harry. However, given the events of today, I imagine that, very soon, Blaise will be held in very high regard by young Master Malfoy?”

“You mean Dumbledore said yes?”

“Indeed. Within a week, Draco Malfoy will be the proud owner of the world’s most venomous snake.”

“Oh wow!” said Harry, his emerald eyes wide. “But, Sir, isn’t that dead dangerous?”

Severus smiled wryly “Draco had to have a poisonous snake and we were faced with a choice; either Lucius bought him an Adder, which are generally bad-tempered, albeit mildly poisonous, little brutes, or a Belcher’s Sea Snake which, while exceptionally deadly, are placid, friendly, tolerant little creatures who won’t bite without extreme provocation and, when they do, they only choose inject venom twenty-five percent of the time.”

“So, it’s like the choice between a nasty Yorkie and a nice St Bernard?” asked Harry, biting into an Eccles cake.

“A masterly synopsis” replied Severus with a wry smile “Yes. And there is also the fact that the sea snake, being aqueous in nature, would have little desire to leave its aquarium, whereas the Adder would escape it’s vivarium at every possibility.”

“Draco’s going to be well pleased” beamed Harry.

“Yes, I expect he is. Now, I have been hearing very positive reports from your tutors, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick are particularly pleased with your progress and Madam Hooch tells me that I have a Cup-winning Seeker in the making,” Severus said with a smile “However, is there anything that you need to discuss with regards to your studies?”

“No, Sir, though…” Harry blushed and his eyes dropped

“Yes, Harry?”

“Well, um, Professor Quirell doesn’t seem to like me much. He gives me funny looks and, well, it sounds a bit mental but he makes my head hurt.”

Severus’s heart froze “Where does your head hurt, Harry? Is it behind your eyes, or at the back of your skull or..?”

Harry reached towards his scar.

Right.

“Sometimes headaches can be caused by stress” Severus said gently, wondering how much he should reassure Harry. He didn’t want to make the boy complacent.

“Yeah, probably” said Harry, his eyes brightening: he had been a bit worried about those headaches but it was logical, wasn’t it; Harry became stressed because of the looks Quirell was giving him and that stress gave him headaches.

“And how are you settling back into your year group?” Severus asked, leading Harry away from the dangerous subject.

“Oh, it’s great” grinned Harry “Draco’s club is dead cool. I’m learning loads about Wizarding Culture and, some evenings, we go exploring. We’ve met some well cool second years, Gred and Forge; they’re Weasley’s brothers but they’re dead nice and they’ve told us about all sorts of cool things that they’ve found around Hogwarts. Draco, at first, didn’t think we could trust them but everything they’ve told us is true; there’s a dead cool portrait on the fourth floor- he knows some well funny songs.” Harry blushed "We’ve decided to call our club the 'DA', the Defence Association, because I’m teaching my friends the spells you taught me. I’ve managed to teach Draco, Blaise, Theo and Hermione all the spells, Pansy, Vin, Daphne know how to Disarm and Summon and Greg, Milly and Tracy know how to Disarm and Shield.” Harry’s face glowed with quiet pride.

“Well done, Harry, I’m very proud of you. If you like, I could give you a list of suitable spells which are, regrettably, not on the First Year Curriculum.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled “Thanks Sir! I really want to be a teacher when I grow up: I really like teaching Defence”

Severus chuckled “As do I, Harry. Unfortunately, the Headmaster wishes me to remain in my current position.”

Harry smiled winsomely “Maybe if I got a Mastery in Potions, I could teach Potions instead and the Headmaster would give you the Defence job? I’d like to stay at Hogwarts forever” said Harry shyly, adding in his mind ‘and with you, Dad’.

Severus smiled and offered Harry the last Eccles cake. If the Potions Master had been asked, at this moment, when he stopped seeing James and started seeing Harry, he would have claimed that he had never observed the father in this charming, all-too-loveable boy at all.

“And little Chimera” Fred winked at Hermione.

“Found anything interesting?” finished George.

Harry grinned “Hi Gred and Forge. We’ve found a cool picture of some city which, if you put your finger right on the very top of the painted fountain, water spurt out of the picture.”

“I got soaked to the skin” chortled Theo, “Last time I ever listen to someone in a painting: they were laughing fit to burst.”

“Luckily, we researched household charms a couple of days ago in the DA and I dried him off in no time.” Said Hermione proudly.

George chortled “DA? Might want to rethink that…”

“Or all the little Gryffies will call you the Death-eater Army” winked Fred.

Draco flushed and Hermione and Theo looked at each other in alarm, possibly more due to the fact that they had missed something so obvious than the potential for the initials being misappropriated.

“The ‘little Gryffies’ can kiss my blind-cheeks” snorted Draco.

“Yeah, we ain’t doing anything wrong” said Greg “It’s just a stupid name.”

“‘Aren’t’, Greg, not ‘ain’t’” sighed Pansy priggishly “And there’s no need to be so crude Dray.”

“Could be dyslexic for ‘Ain’t Deatheaters’” smiled Vin, nudging Milly, who grinned and rolled her eyes.

“Brill!” laughed Fred. “Ronniekins will whine that it doesn’t make sense…”

“And then we can tease him about having the brain of a turnip” finished George. “Well, if you snakies want to investigate something interesting, you could look for the Legendary Broom-Cupboard of Necessity”

“The Legendary Broom-Cupboard of Necessity” drawled Daphne, raising an eyebrow.

“Poor little things…”

“Snape’s personality is already rubbing off on them”

“Hey!” retorted Harry, upset, “Professor Snape’s great”

“Yeah, he’s letting me get the world’s most deadly snake! She’s being delivered this week. I’m going to call her Isis!” bubbled Draco.

“Cool!”

“Mind if we have some of her venom!”

Draco opened his mouth eagerly and Blaise put his hand over it “What would your mother say if we told her you’d asked for that?”

George paled “Good point.”

“Anyway, this broom cupboard…” prompted Theo.

“It’s on the seventh floor …” said Fred

“Somewhere near a tapestry of Trolls in tutus.” added George.

“We were running away from Filch one day…”

“And we needed some place to hide…”

“And there it was…” Fred folded his arms and beamed at them.

“Are you sure that it’s not, you know, just an ordinary broom cupboard?” asked Hermione.

“Well, we’ve never seen it there again, Miss smarty-pants” teased Fred. The twins, blessed with a sense of fair play, always felt guilty over how the other Gryffs had treated Hermione and, while teasing was in their nature, with her they limited it to half-complimentary epithets.

“Cool. Thanks guys!” said Blaise cheerfully.

“Thanks” smiled Harry. Although a disappearing broom cupboard wasn’t exactly the most exciting secret to discover, it was still a secret.”

oOoOo

“We’ve searched every inch of this corridor, Blaise!” moaned Draco.

“Gred and Forge haven’t tricked us before, Draco” said Harry “We should look a bit more”

Pansy smirked “Maybe we have to hop in the air three times and shout ‘I believe in Gred and Forge’.

“‘I believe in Gred and Forge’. ‘I believe in Gred and Forge’. ‘I believe in Gred and Forge’.” Giggled Tracy, copying the balletic leaps of the troll in the portrait opposite her.

“Oh! My! Gods!” gasped Theo, pointing behind Tracy.

“A door!” cried Harry

“I was only joking!” whined Pansy, aghast at the sheer impossibility of the situation.

“Nice one Pansy!” laughed Milly.

“Hey!”

“And you, Tracy” added Daphne, giggling.

The Slytherins gathered around the door.

“Who should open it first?” said Theo.

Draco swaggered forward and grabbed the door-handle “I, Draco René Antonius Malfoy, hereby claim this broom-cupboard in the name of Slytherin.”

Draco opened the door and the first years gasped.

It was a huge, beautiful room: on the other side of the smooth, even, wooden floor, a vast mirror reflected the children’s amazed expressions. When they looked to their left, there was a wall, unadorned but for a long, horizontal bar at arm height. On the opposite side, lit with spotlights and adorned with scenery depicting dancing trolls, stood a red-curtained stage.

“This isn’t a broom cupboard” Blaise whispered, as if almost afraid to break the silence.

Hermione was staring at her reflection hard.

“Something wrong, Hermione?” asked Daphne

“She’s probably never seen just what her hair looks like” said Pansy snidely “I expect no mirror’s ever been big enough to reflect it all.”

“Don’t be such a cow, Pansy” said Theo “Hermione and I are just wondering whether the room, which looks like a ballet studio, might have anything to do with the painting behind us.”

“How dare you Theodore Jeremy Nott! I am going to write home and tell my father you said that and then you’ll be sorry!” Pansy cried shrilly.

“And I’m going to write and tell my father that you deserved it” said Draco shortly.

As Pansy stomped off, Hermione turned to Tracy “Um, you were pretending to be a ballet dancer, weren’t you?”

“I guess” said Tracy intrigued.

“So maybe this room adapts to what the person is pretending to be?” ventured Theo.

“I don’t think Gred and Forge were pretending to be brooms.” Laughed Blaise.

“Maybe they were trying to run faster than racing brooms” Harry said brightly.

“That’s a good point.” replied Draco thoughtfully.

“We’ve got to experiment and see what works” said Hermione,

“Let’s discuss other possibilities first” said Daphne “We don’t want to lose this as soon as we’ve found it.”

“But let’s go inside, right,” said Greg “this is our secret, we don’t want the whole school to know!”

Milly nodded “Yeah! This’d make a great meeting room for the DA!”

“Okay, inside everybody” called Draco, his silver eyes sparkling with glee.

OoOoO

Once the children were sitting down in a circle, Blaise said “Okay, everyone needs to think of how this room works. It can’t just come into being because we wished to find it because, if that was the case, we’d have found this room right away.”

“Yes” replied Hermione “When Tracy was jumping, she jumped the length of the portrait three times, once every time she said ‘I believe in Gred and Forge’, is that right Tracy?”

“Yes, I think so. I was just mucking about really” said Tracy with a smile.

“And what were you thinking about?” asked Theo.

“I don’t know, really, just that I wanted to dance. At home I go to ballet lessons three times a week but Hogwarts doesn’t offer it as an extracurricular activity. I kind of miss it.”

“Hmm… Tracy said the names of Gred and Forge. They were the last people in here.” said Vin thoughtfully.

“Yeah but, unless Flich was the last person to use this room before them- which I doubt considering that he’s a squib- then I think it unlikely that they’d just say, totally at random, the name of the last person to enter” added Draco sceptically.

“Random has worked for us so far” laughed Harry.

Blaise grinned “True enough but I think Draco has a point.”

“Good idea, though, Vin” Hermione added kindly. The large boy blushed and looked down at his hands.

“It might have been because they were thinking of Flich, whose a caretaker, and the room morphed itself into a broom cupboard, which represented his job.” Theo said brightly.

“Were you thinking of Barnabas?” Daphne asked Tracy “He taught ballet as a career, I think.”

“Barnabas?” asked Harry.

“The nimrod in the portrait, the one getting his head bashed in” supplied Draco.

“Oh.”

“I guess I could have been” Tracy replied “Not particularly though.”

Over the next two hours, the Slytherins tried out every option repeatedly: Vin and Greg pretended to be racing brooms but, although the door opened, it just showed a plain, empty room.

To everyone's dismay, the door disappeared completely when Blaise thought hard about his uncle, who had been an artist.

And the door-handle didn’t reappear when Harry strode back and forth three times in front of the painting, saying the names of the DA members, either.

After a little brainstorming, various members of the DA tried crossing the boundary three times whilst jumping or hopping or running or walking, getting more and more dejected as each attempt failed.

Then Theo had the idea that volume of voice might be relevant, so they experimented with that too.

When that didn't work, Tracy ventured that it might be to do with the number of people: since Gred and Forge were two people and it had last worked with one person, her, maybe two people should try it.

Unfortunately, the door didn't reappear with two, three or four people in on the experiments either.

Slowly, the children tired and their little group started to disband. Tracy and Daphne wanted to dress for Sunday supper and Milly, who was hot and tired after helping with the experiments, decided to return to the Serpents’ Nest with them, so she could take an early shower.

Half an hour later, Vin and Greg couldn’t resist the pangs of their stomachs any longer, so they disappeared down to the Great Hall for dinner, promising to return later on.

Finally, Blaise slumped against the wall which Harry and Draco were sitting with their backs against. “I give up, it’s hopeless.”

“I suppose we’d better make our way downstairs” sighed Draco “At least we’ll get some pudding. Come on, brainboxes!” he called to Theo and Hermione, who were standing in a huddle, talking earnestly.

“Wait!” cried Hermione “I think I have it!”

“Yeah?” said Blaise, straightening up.

“Tracy wanted to dance, right?”

“Mmm” said Theo, stroking his chin.

“Well, what if she was thinking that she wished Hogwarts had someplace for her to dance?” said Hermione with a grin.

“You mean that the room becomes what you want?” asked Harry, beaming.

“Or need!” added Theo excitedly “The Weasleys needed somewhere to hide, like a broom cupboard!”

“Right. Okay.” Said Draco, striding over to the portrait and walking back and forth across the boundary “I want a room where I can fly, I want a room where I can fly, I want a room where I can fly.”

The door reappeared.

“Bloody hell, it worked!” squealed Draco, throwing open the door to reveal a colossal room, about five hundred meters long, wide and high. It was carpeted with thick, mossy grass and, far into the distance, they could see two sets of quiddich hoops and, even better, by the doorway lay a beautiful racing broom.

“Wait!” Blaise called as Draco reached out for the broom “We don’t have much time before curfew, let’s try it out some more.”

Draco reluctantly agreed and, over the next ten minutes, the room became a sumptuous bedroom, a library full of rare and impressive volumes, the foyer of the Natural History Museum in London and Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour (but sadly without the ice-cream).

Finally, Harry, Theo, Blaise, Draco and Hermione stood on a crescent-shaped beach, very similar to the one outside Uroborus.

Hermione looked at her watch and sighed. “I guess we’d better head off. I wish we didn’t have to walk down eight whole floors!”

Draco walked over to the door and held it open for Hermione “Ladies first”

“Thank you Draco” said Hermione, hurrying towards the doorway.

There was a thudding of paws and something huge stuck its muzzle through the doorway, baring teeth as long as daggers.

“It’s a giant dog!” screamed Hermione, staggering back.

“It’s a fucking Cerberus” cried Blaise “Nothing else gets that big!”

“Close the door!” Yelled Theo.

Harry stood and breathed in, feeling the magic drain from every atom of his being into a big ball in his chest.

“Expulso!”

The Cerberus shot backwards and Draco slammed the door.

“That hasn’t happened before!” said Theo shakily, leaning against the doorway.

“Where did you learn that spell” Draco added, his voice a little high.

“Professor Snape gave me a list of useful Defence Spells.” Harry sat down on the sand. “Oh God!”

Hermione burst into tears “We almost got eaten a…and it ww…was all mmm…my fff…ault.”

Blaise gathered Hermione in his arms “Don’t be silly. You didn’t do anything.”

“Yy..yes I I I dd.did. I I I ww…wished ww...we dd…didn’t have t…t…to w....walk so f…far.”

“Oh!” gasped Draco “You mean our wishes might effect where in Hogwarts this room's door opens?”

Understanding flooded into Theo’s face like sunlight “That must have been the third floor!”

“What?” replied Harry.

“Dumbledore! He said that we shouldn’t go onto the third floor on pain of death.”

“Because he’s keeping a Cerberus!” Draco cried shrilly “Just wait until my Father hears about this: Dumbledore will be out of Hogwarts before my ink has time to dry!”

“You can’t tell anyone, Draco!” said Theo “If the teachers find out about this room, they’ll block the corridor off!”

“The room could be considered unsafe” added Blaise “In the wrong hands, of course.”

“Besides” said Hermione, rubbing the tears out of her eyes “You’ve just got Dumbledore to agree to you keeping a highly venomous snake: maybe the next headmaster won’t allow it.”

“Well, it’s still very irresponsible!” Draco said, his voice rather high. “Now listen here, room, you’ve had your joke. Release us into the dungeons.”

Harry tiptoed across the sand and cracked open the door. He breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door “It’s all clear!”

“We must keep the Cerberus secret” whispered Hermione as they crept back to the Serpent’s Nest.

“But what if someone opens the door into the third floor, they might get hurt” replied Harry.

“We’ll just tell them that you have to specify a floor and to remember that the third floor is out of bounds” said Draco, as they reached their Common Room entrance. “Come on, I’ve got a cake and some bags of crisps in our dorm.”

oOoOo

As Harry snuggled down in bed that night, having helped Draco and Blaise describe the wonders of the Secret-Room to the half-jealous, wholly excited first years, he hugged Reggie’s soft, lithe form to his chest and fell asleep with a smile of pure, blissful contentment on his face.

The voices didn’t come back after that night.

“Werl, if we ain’t playing, Slyth usually supports anyone who ain’t Gryffindor.” Prefect Flint said with a smile “However, I know yer friendly like with the Weasels so I won’t take offence or nothin’ if yer wanna shout fer Fred an George.”

“Fred… they told us they were called ‘Gred and Forge’” gasped Draco indignantly.

“Their idea of a joke or summat, Malfoy. If yer goin’ to stop with Weasels, yer gonna ‘ave to get used to getting’ tricked occasional.”

Harry, Vin and Greg giggled. Flint, though tough on the outside, was really quite nice: at breakfast this morning, he’d come up to the first years and said he was taking Harry, Draco and anyone else who’d wanted to come to the Hufflepuff v Gryffindor Quidditch match. Snape had told the Quidditch Captain that Madam Hooch pegged Harry, Draco, Vin and Greg as showing Quidditch potential and, although Slyth had a decent team, if Marcus did say so himself, he could do with some talented reserve players. So, although, generally, the Slytherins didn’t attend matches except when their house was playing, Marcus decided to break with tradition in order to show the boys the ropes. Harry, having been at Uroborus during the first Quidditch game of the season, was genuinely excited and Draco, being Quidditch-mad, was more than pleased to tag along, as were Vin and Greg.

Blaise, Theo and Hermione, on the other hand, had begged off, with the excuse that they weren’t really into Quidditch unless, as Blaise tactfully added, Slyth was playing. Pansy, Milly, Tracy and Daphne, knowing that the trio’s real reason was that they wanted to use this weekend to further investigate the Secret Room, also made their excuses; ballet dancing had caught all four girls’ imaginations and they wanted to re-sample it’s delights at every opportunity.

Although Harry was equally enthusiastic about the Secret Room, he didn’t envy the other Slytherins their choice; Quidditch was, indeed, fast, furious and dangerous and Harry absolutely loved it. Marcus Flint kept up a running commentary, describing moves as they were made, pointing out the player’s mistakes and suggesting how they could have been avoided. Harry listened avidly: although watching the game was enthralling, Harry could imagine how great it would be to actually be out on the pitch, with the wind whistling through his hair as he avoided bludgers, out-manoeuvred the opposing team and caught the snitch.

Harry literally couldn’t wait for second year and, considering Draco’s whoops of joy when a player scored or succeeded in a clever trick and his moans of disappointment when the quaffle was fumbled, it seemed his best friend shared his sentiments entirely. Harry liked the idea of being on the same team as Draco: he'd always longed for a brother and Draco, although slightly spoiled, behaved a bit like Harry had always imagined a brother would. And how Harry had wished Dudley could have been.

As the game progressed into its third hour, Harry found himself spending more and more time ‘snitch spotting’: Marcus had set up a game between the first years- if they spotted the snitch before anyone else, he’d give them a toffee. Harry discovered that he had a very quick eye for discerning the tiny, fluttering ball; he always seemed to catch sight of it before anyone else. However, Harry only ever claimed the sighting every other time: he wanted his friends to have a share of Flint’s sweets and knew that Draco was too proud to accept a toffee if he hadn’t won it.

Once, when the snitch fluttered into the Staff Box, Harry saw that Professor Burbage, who was wearing very pretty lavender robes and cerise lipstick, was talking avidly to Professor Snape. Despite looking away, the Potions Master was smiling, a slight blush glowing over his cheekbones. Harry grinned: he liked Professor Burbage.

There was a cry of horror and Harry turned to see a bludger tearing towards the Slytherin stands, aimed directly for him. Harry’s green eyes widened in terror, his mind went blank and he barely discerned when his wand clattered at his feet.

In the Staff Box, Severus leapt to his feet, casting ‘Finite’ on the bludger with every ounce of his power.

On the Slytherin Benches, Flint flung his upper body across Harry’s, instinctively shielding the smaller boy.

The bludger stopped dead, falling hard onto Harry’s lap. There was a crack and a scream of pain.

“Aw Gods! Get Pomfrey!” cried Marcus, who, having just thrown himself across Harry, was in prime position to see the white, ragged femur jutting grotesquely out of Harry’s thin thigh. Thick, blackish-red blood welled around the wound, soaking the child’s robes and dripping onto the floor.

Vin and Greg raced off, their pale faces tinged with green. As Marcus carefully levered himself off Harry, he could hear Draco being sick behind them.

Suddenly, a huge bird with glossy, blue-black plumage soared into the Slytherin stands, morphing into Severus Snape as it landed.

“Da-ad!” moaned Harry, who was almost incoherent with pain.

Severus, panting and white faced, knelt down beside Harry, clutching at the little boy’s fingers with one hand and his wand with the other.

“Your cravat, Flint! Quickly!”

In one movement, Severus had lengthened the strip of material and bound it around Harry’s upper thigh. The child yelped in pain and squeezed Severus’s fingers, breathing in short, ragged breaths.

Gritting his teeth, Severus vanished the skirt of Harry’s robe and with gentle fingers lifted the flap of skin, breath trembling in his lungs as his child screamed in agony. Severus manoeuvred the bone into place.

“Ossis Regeneratis Femur Dexter!" Fragmenti Ossis Diluo!”

As the shattered ends of Harry’s femur re-bonded and the flesh of his thigh knit back together, Severus gently pulled the small, too-light form into his arms and bolted towards the infirmary, his long legs devouring the distance between Qudditch pitch and school.

Harry’s emerald eyes clenched shut “Dad, it hurts!”

A soft, warm drop of water landed on Harry’s cheek; emerald eyes opened to observe a single, silver line clinging to the contour of Professor Snape’s narrow cheek.

The last person to cry for Harry had been Uncle Vernon; when, after a chat in the Doctor’s office, he’d come back to Harry’s hospital bed red-eyed, having seen the scans of Harry’s lungs.

Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion suffusing every inch of his body, Harry reached up and wrapped his leaden arms around his Basilisk’s neck. He felt Severus’s warm, strong hand cup the back of his head, supporting Harry's upper body. Harry burried his face into the soft wool of Professor Snape's robes, inhaling the conflicting scents of soap, potions fumes, and sandalwood.

“Oh Harry, we’re almost there. The pain will go soon.” the Potions Master panted, his legs tiring even though he dared not slow his frantic pace.

“Don’t wanna go. Wanna stay with you.” Harry whined weakly.

“I won’t leave you, Harry” Severus reassured, his chest tightening.

“Never, ever?”

“I promise. Just stay awake. There’s a good boy.”

“I love you.”

Another warm tear splashed on the child’s cheek. “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry used to hate getting ill, especially after Uncle Vernon died: Aunt Petunia would just chuck him in the shed; she didn’t want Dudley getting ill and besides, she said, the small, damp, drafty room was no worse than a burden and a freak deserved. So as far as Harry was concerned, it was far better to suffer through the school day; at least he was warm, dry and got something to eat at lunch.

In the hospital wing, however, it was an entirely different story: the air was spelled to a constant temperature, warm but not stifling, the beds were charmed to mould themselves into comfortable positions and, as the infirmary was a corner room, light flooded through two walls of tall, sash-windows, one overlooking the Quidditch pitch, the other the greenhouses, so there was always something to watch. And, as Madam Pomfrey believed in light, frequent, nutritious meals, Harry enjoyed such fare as cup-sized Yorkshire puddings filled with beef stew, mugs of hot tomato soup and crumpets or, his personal favourite, a bowl of yoghurt mixed with chopped banana, honey, cereal and sour cherries.

Better yet, Professor Snape stayed with him! The accident itself had been a bit of a blur; the last thing Harry really remembered was watching his Basilisk and Professor Burbage in the Staff Box. After that, it was just a jumble of images; a bird changing into his Professor, being carried in warm, strong arms, the combined scents of soap, sandalwood and potions, all surrounded by the white-hot fuzz of pain.

When Harry had woken up, however, the sky was darkening and his first thought- accompanied by a sinking of the heart- had been that he’d missed having tea with Professor Snape. (Well, his second thought, actually; the first thought had been ‘Oww: my leg is sore!’)

However, when Harry looked around, he saw, to his delight, that Professor Snape was fast asleep in the chair beside him, his hand lying on the bed, near Harry’s hand.

Feeling rather shy, Harry had edged his fingers under his Professor’s and, when he woke up again the next morning, Professor Snape was still snoring- and holding Harry’s hand. (Madam Pomfrey, who walked upon this little domestic scene a short while later, had smiled and, whilst giving Harry his potions, she confided that the Potions Master was prone to sleeping into the afternoon if he was allowed.)

After breakfast, which consisted of a large cup of coffee for Professor Snape and cranberry juice and bowl of yoghurt for Harry, the Potions Master had sat with Harry all morning, reading aloud from an obviously well-loved book called ‘My Naughty Little Sister’. Professor Snape said it had been a Christmas present from Harry’s mum, who he had known when they were both very little, and showed Harry the note inside, which read, in a pink scrawl ‘To my best freind Sev, luv Lily.’

When Blaise, Hermione, Theo and Draco arrived at the hospital wing that afternoon, Professor Snape had tactfully removed himself to the Mediwitch's office, but not before putting the precious book in a draw of Harry’s bedside table. The Potions Master's smile had told Harry that the book was Harry's to keep.

Draco entered first, with Reggie around his neck: the poor snake had been frantic with worry when Harry hadn’t returned last night but Madam Pomfrey, while thinking it best that the excitable snake remained in the dorm, had sent Galen, her spirit snake, to explain things. Unsurprisingly, Reggie was overjoyed to be reunited with his 'two-legs' and, after wrapping himself around Harry’s headboard, spent the first ten minutes hissing “I’ll be good! I will stay here and not touch your leg!’ whilst nuzzling Harry’s hair.

Hermione gave Harry a lovely bunch of roses, which she and Theo had charmed to change colour every ten minutes, Theo carried the box of sweets and Blaise had a huge card, signed by almost everyone in Slytherin.

Draco, who had dark circles around his eyes, had ranted about the lack of safety precautions for those in the stands; apparently his father, who Draco let slip, was Head of the Hogwarts Governors, had spent the best part of the night lambasting the Headmaster over not casting shield-charms to protect the observers. Mr Malfoy had also stopped by at the Serpent’s Nest to check on Draco and drop off a huge hamper of sweets, most of which the worried Slytherins had decanted into another box for Harry.

Hermione had been quite tearful: she’d been blaming herself all night for not going with the boys to the Quidditch match, thinking that she could have done something to prevent the accident. After Tracy, Daphne and Milly had done their best, Pansy had exerted her own brand of tough love and told Hermione to stop being such a silly little mare: if Harry- who everyone knew was Outstanding at Defence- hadn’t saved himself, how on earth could she have done anything?

Theo was quiet and serious and it fell to Blaise to keep everyone’s emotions in check and maintain a steady, pleasant and light-hearted conversation.

After the children had left, in a considerably more cheerful state than they had arrived, Professor Snape returned with Harry’s painkilling potion and a glass of grapefruit juice, which was good for purging away the nasty taste. The Potions Master had read to Harry for a little while longer, commenting, occasionally, that Lily had particularly liked their current chapter or when something happened in the plot which was similar to a childhood event. These little snippets of information led into a conversation about Lily; she had longed to be a bridesmaid, she couldn't decide whether peach or violet was her favourite colour, she didn’t like eating crusts- except if the bread was grainery, she enjoyed playing with paper ‘fashion’ dolls and that their first ‘proper’ magic had been to transfigure Lily’s school-pinafore into a silk copy of her favourite doll-outfit (her mother, Amanda Evans, had been so impressed that she’d taken them all for ice-cream, which Petunia had promptly spilled down Lily’s new dress. Amanda Evans had known that it was no accident and sent Petunia to bed with no supper and spent all night cleaning Lily’s dress so it was as good as new the next morning.) Harry loved hearing the stories and it felt extra special to know that his favourite Professor had been important to his Mum too.

Then, in the evening, Hagrid had come in with a box of treacle fudge and the exciting news that Hedwig was sitting on a clutch of eggs and, if all went well, Harry would soon be the proud owner of three little owlets. Apparently, during their stay in Uroborus, Xiao and Hedwig had decided that they really rather liked each other and were now mates. Harry then, quite naturally, asked how being mates had led to Hedwig laying eggs and Hagrid, blushing to the roots of his hair, suddenly realised that it was Fang’s supper time and fled, leaving the ‘birds and bees’ discussion to a somewhat bemused Professor Snape and amused Madam Pomfrey.

As Professor Snape tucked Harry up that evening, he had smiled wryly and told him that they would now absolutely have to spend their holidays together, if only for the sake of their owls; a suggestion with was received with a giggle of delighted glee.

All in all, Harry really rather enjoyed being in the hospital wing.

oOoOo

The rest of the fortnight flew by. Professor Snape, who had a dual Mastery in Potions and Healing, personally tended to Harry and, with the benefit of frequent physical therapy and Severus’ potions, the child’s recovery progressed swiftly and almost painlessly. Madam Pomfrey, who was personally interested in both Harry and Severus’s welfare, looked on in joy as her two charges recovered in body and spirit: the Potions Master needed someone to love and Harry needed someone to love him so how could she begrudge Severus the pleasure of healing the child his tears had proclaimed to be his son in all but name?

The Slytherins visited Harry frequently and in high spirits; due to Albus’s sweet-making stunt, Seraph Malfoy, Draco’s second-cousin, had been asked to take over Potions classes. According to Draco, who was ecstatic at the appointment, Lucius, his father, had been so named because, according to his Great-Aunt, calling her child after a type of angel had been tempting the devil too far. Professor Seraph Malfoy, while highly skilled and a great teacher, was wickedly naughty and seemed to particularly enjoy bating the kids who had bullied Hermione: he never actually gave them grounds to make a complaint but still did enough to be highly aggravating. Blaise was now collecting bets as to how long it would take Ron Weasley to actually explode in indignation and even the prim and proper Hermione found the mischievous man’s mind-games rather funny.

Hedwig’s eggs were progressing well, according to Hagrid, and both parents seemed devoted to their soon-to-be chicks. Harry spent many a happy hour with Professor Snape, reading a book on breeding owls and anticipating what the owlets would look like. Harry rather hoped that they’d be a mixture of colours, rather than just copies of their parents and, when he confided this to Professor Snape, he had woken up the next day to find a beautiful model of an owl on his bedside table. The previous night, the Potions Master had ordered this special tool, which was designed for Owl Breeders; if one inserted two feathers from different owls, the owl-doll would transform into the possible offspring. Professor Snape had given Harry two feathers, one from Hedwig, the other from Xiao, and he had spent much of his leisure time that day playing with the model, exclaiming happily whenever he found a particularly pretty combination. Harry was really excited over the prospect of owlets: Professor Snape had said that they were Harry’s and, when Harry had demurred, the Potions Master had kindly told him that, having no friends who needed an owl, he had no use for them. Harry immediately decided that they should go to Hermione and Nev: every First Year in Slytherin had an owl, save Hermione, and, as Nev, had braved the Gryffs’ displeasure by visiting the Hospital Wing, he was a deserving recipient. Harry really hoped that they’d get the pretty light grey with wise golden eyes, which would be great for Hermione, and the one with smudgy black and grey plumage and friendly brown eyes, which he wanted to give Nev. (Severus said, however, that this had to be a great secret until the owlets were old enough to be given away.)

Of course, it wasn’t a total holiday; Professor Snape tutored Harry so that he kept up academically with his year mates and could hand in homework when it was due. However, this was scarcely a chore; the one to one tuition meant that Harry generally learnt more in twenty minutes than his friends acheived in an hour and, as some practical work was impossible to carry out in the hospital wing, for example, Potions, Harry often had most of the afternoon free. None of his friends envied him, however; Draco was apparently still having nightmares over Harry’s wound and even the urbane Blaise, who was very good at acting, got a lump in his throat when he once caught sight of the scar on Harry's leg.

However, by the second week, Harry’s leg was almost as good as new; he could walk, run and even hop if he chose, though Professor Snape winced when Harry tried that so he didn’t do it again. Reluctantly, the Potions Master deemed him fit for school and Harry, although feeling rather sad at the thought of seeing Professor Snape only in lessons and on Saturday afternoons, was able to be stoic as the Christmas Holidays, which he and Professor Snape were to spend at Malfoy Manor, were only two weeks away.

When Harry left the hospital wing, he was surprised to see that some of the hall-ways were already festooned with beautiful, fan-shaped arrangements of holly, yew, fir and ivy, with bright red ribbons and bells woven throughout. In other corridors, the suits of armour and statues sung carols, a few hall-ways were decorated with bright little fairies and most were filled with the lovely scents of oranges, cinnamon and cloves.

“Why are only certain corridors decorated, Sir?” Harry asked Professor Snape as they walked down to the Serpents’ Nest.

“The teachers dedicate their free periods to decorating the school” the Potions Master replied “However, as we have a few weeks yet before Yule, we have only just begun the preparations. Usually, Professor Flitwick charms the fairies, Professor McGonagall teaches the statues to sing, I create everlasting perfumes and Professor Sprout and Hagrid arrange the foliage. However, this year Professor Malfoy made the scents for the corridors.”

“Because you were looking after me?” asked Harry, feeling a little guilty.

“Indeed, I had a much more important and enjoyable job. However, if it would give you pleasure, we can avail ourselves of Mr Malfoy’s labs and make some Yule scents for his house.”

“Oh! Draco would really enjoy that!” beamed Harry.

Severus smiled “You always think of everyone before yourself, my child.”

Harry sighed, half happy, half wistful. Although he felt a little bad for his real dad, he couldn’t help but wish Mum had married Professor Snape instead. He would love to be Professor Snape’s child for real.

oOoOo

When they arrived at the Serpents’ Nest, Harry was rather surprised to find it completely empty: on a Saturday afternoon the Common Room was usually teaming with people but Harry couldn’t even hear anyone in the dorms.

A lot of things happened at once; sparking strands of silver fell from the air, party food crowded the writing tables and all the students reappeared in the room with a huge shout of “Surprise!”

Professor Snape, who had flung himself in front of Harry, flushed pink, growled “Seraph!” and made a swift exit, closely followed by a tall, blond man who was chuckling and wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes.

“Hey Harry! Did we surprise you?”

“Hey Harry! Come and have some chocolate éclairs!”

“Haahaa! Oh your face!”

“We’ve got cheese and pickle sandwiches! Your favourite!”

“We’ve been planning this all week!”

Harry grinned: he loved his friends.

oOoOo

In the halls of Hogwarts, Salazar flitted from canvas to canvas, sometimes stepping into the mirror sheen of a breastplate, occasionally hiding in a silver sconce.

If the turbaned one was, indeed, of the same soul as his wretched, kin-biting heir, that disgrace to the name of Parselmouth, Salazar would discover him.

And woe betide his heir if he had been the one to harm the hatching of Salazar’s heart. There was but one way of dealing with a cobra in the nest.

OoOoO

That night, when the boys were fast asleep, Reggie slithered off Harry’s bed and pressed his snout against the glass of the large aquarium, which lay between Harry and Draco’s four-posters.

*“Hello?”* he whispered.

A beautiful tangerine and ink striped snake rippled out from a cave *“Hello”*

*“I’m Kingy, what’sss your name?”* Reggie asked shyly.

*“Isssisss. I own gold and grey two-legssss.”* said the young sea snake proudly.

*“That’s a pretty name. I own dark and green two-legs: he’sss very nissse. He got bitten by bad metal, sssso he’sss been in healing nesssst.”*

*“Poor two-legs. Healed all better now?”* Isis asked sweetly, flicking her tail.

*“Yesss, all better. I like to sssswim too.”* Reggie said hopefully.

*“Would you like to come and ssswim with me? I promise no fangs if you promise no squeezy-crush.”*

*“Oh yesss pleassse!”*

oOoOo

The next morning, Harry, Draco, Theo and Blaise walked down to Hagrid’s hut: the large man was almost as enthralled as Draco on the prospect of Hogwarts housing the world’s most poisonous snake and that, combined with their shared concern about Harry, had gradually endeared Hagrid to the scion of the proud house of Malfoy to such an extent that Draco was eager to visit, despite the fact that he was only a game-keeper.

Today, they were taking Isis to meet Hagrid; Draco had a small carrying-tank, complete with feather-light charm, to transport his snake and Reggie, who they’d woken to find in Isis’s aquarium, had decided to come along for the ride. Reggie and Isis were now fast friends: they both loved to swim and, being friendly, sweet-natured creatures, this was recommendation enough. Draco had been somewhat surprised that Reggie had been able to get in but, as Theo theorised, it was probably because the wards were only designed to keep out humans, not incorrigible ball pythons.

“It feels so good to be outside again” sighed Harry, sniffing the crisp, winter air.

“It is really good to be able to do things together again.” said Hermione, who, being a girl, was allowed to voice it.

“We really missed you!” added Blaise, who didn't give a fig about social convention.

(*“I love ssssinging! I love sssswimming! I love Isssssissss! I’m a happy, happy, happy, happy little ssssnake!”* Reggie sang, off key, from the hood of Harry’s coat. Isis swished in her tank, psshssing happily.)

Theo ran up the steps to Hagrid’s hut and, when the door was opened, fielded Fang, gently tackling the huge boarhound to the ground and rolling around with him. Theo’s dad also bred dogs, Great Danes, and Theo had long known that the best way to de-bounce a mutt was to beat it at its own game and play until it cried uncle.

“Ello kids! I’m righ’ pleased to see yeh up and about, young ‘arry! An’ ere’s the sea snake! Ain’t she a beauty! Yeh must be righ’ proud of her Draco. Come ‘ere Fang, leave poor Theo alone. ‘Ello, Reggie! Come in, come in, let’s all ‘ave a cuppa!”

The children all bustled into the round hut and climbed up onto the chairs to sit at the table.

“I’ve brought you some cakes, Hagrid” said Draco, placing Isis’s carrying tank in the centre of the table and reaching into his school bag “Bath buns. I know you enjoy them.”

“Tha’s right thoughtful of yeh lad, I haven’t had much time for bakin’ of late” Hagrid said, closing the lid of the cake tin which he had just taken out of the cupboard.

Blaise covertly gave Draco the thumbs up; Hagrid had good intentions but the path to hell was paved with his rock-cakes.

Once they had all been served a large mug of tea, Hagrid smiled over at Draco “So, what ‘ave yeh called her, Dray?”

“Isis.” grinned Draco, admiring the happy little snake, who was coiling and rippling in the water.

“Isis, that’s a righ’ pretty name and a fitting ‘un, too. How does she get along with ‘Arry’s li-le Reggie?”

“We found them in the same tank this morning” smirked Blaise “I think it’s a case of love at first sight.”

Harry giggled “I think they just both really like swimming.”

“Can I ‘ave a hold?”

“Sure, she’s really friendly. But, ah, dad said you’d need a besoar first” Draco started fishing in his pocket.

“Don’ worry, lad, there isn’t much that can poison me; become immune, I have. Been bitten by all sorts.” Hagrid grinned, as if the world could hold no higher honour.

As Draco popped the stone in his mouth and reached in for the bright, pretty snake, Blaise said “It must be fascinating being the game-keeper of the Forbidden Forest; you must see all sorts of amazing creatures.”

“Aye, lad. We ‘ave everything from unicorns to Kluddes, though thankfully only a few of ‘em.”

“Kluddes?” asked Hermione curiously.

“Demon dogs, righ’ nasty buggers; almost humanoid, they are, and deadly fast. They ‘ave a taste for human flesh. Live to kill, they do.” Hagrid reached out for Isis, stroking her small, bullet head with large, gentle fingers.

“Are there many canids?” asked Theo, in an attempt at guile.

“Like dire-wolves, maybe grims?” cut in Blaise quickly, before Theo could say anything too obvious.

“Yeah, we ‘ave a little pack of dire-wolves. They’re decent creatures; don’t like humans much but yeh can’t fault em. Folk can be righ’ nasty about summat that strikes ‘em as uncanny an’ dire-wolves look unusual righ’ enough.”

“They sound fascinating, Hagrid” said Hermione smoothly.

“Oh, they are. Keep the Kluddes in check for me; decent little things when they learn that you mean ‘em no harm an’ will give their very dew-claws for a friend.”

“I really like dogs” said Theo “Not so keen on the toy breeds, though! They get under your feet too much.”

Blaise grinned “I have known you to trip over sofas, Theo.”

Hagrid nodded “Yeh right, Theo. I tend to get a bit clumsy with dogs smaller than Fang. They allus run where yeh ain’t expectin’ ‘em.”

“What’s the biggest dog you’ve ever owned?” asked Draco “We’ve had some pretty massive briards over the years; one male was about half as big again as Fang.”

“Ah, you ain’t into the giants until you ‘ave somethin’ like my Fluffy. Cerberus, ee is. Good boy but don’t know his own strength.” Hagrid said fondly.

“Wow! You own a Cerberus?” said Harry.

“I’ve never even seen one before” said Blaise

“I’ve heard they’re really rare” added Hermione for good measure.

Hagrid glowed with pride “Werl, they’re uncommon enough; got mine off a Greek chappy. I could show him to you some time, if you like.”

“Can we see him now?” Draco begged, gazing up with the ‘puppy-dog eyes’ which always worked on his father.

Hagrid smiled “Not till summer, lad, leant him to a friend of mine. Good guard dog, a Cerberus.”

“Is he guarding anything interesting?” asked Theo enthusiastically.

“Not sure, Theo.” Hagrid said evasively, handing Isis back to Draco “She’s righ’ lovely, Dray, yeh take good care of her, yeh hear.”

Draco nodded, ticking Isis under the chin before setting her gently into the water. Reggie, uncoiling himself from Harry’s chair, slithered across the table and into Isis’ tank, hissing a happy greeting as he did so.

Blaise, deciding that it would be wise to change the subject, then started asking whether there were any winged horses in the forest and Hagrid, who loved his little herd of Threstrals, happily chatted away, comparing notes on Pegasus care versus Threstral care, the best way to break in a young winged horse, preferred saddlers, etcetera.

Theo then asked whether it was true that Threstrals were bad luck.

“No, no, lad. Folk are just strange about ‘em. Yeh can only see ‘em if yeh watched someone die an’ there’s many that find it spooky. Good creatures they are; if yeh provoke ‘em, they may take a bite out of yeh but so will a horse if you bate it. I recon Unicorns are fiercer, if you got a certain look about you.”

“I thought Unicorns were supposed to be gentle” said Harry.

“Yeah, they can be, especially with kids. ‘Owever, they’re guardians and that there horn is for a reason: if yeh look like yeh thinking of doing harm for the pleasure of it, they’ll come at yeh. An’ yeh better hope they kill yeh rather than the other way round. If yeh slay a unicorn, yeh damned.” Hagrid paused and looked out of the window pensively.

“What is it, Hagrid?” asked Blaise.

“Someun’s been killin’ unicorns of late. It’s righ’ worrying, specially with Flamel’s st…” Hagrid flushed and started talking quickly “I found some of me Threstrals dead too; they were protectin’ the poor buggers. Not a mark on the Threstrals though.”

Theo’s brow wrinkled “Do you think they were attacked by poachers?”

“No, lad, I ‘ope not; the ‘orns, mane and tail were intact. But let’s not talk about that. I’ve got some right nice little eostrie, yeh know; there’s a burrow of ‘em righ’ by the greenhouses. If yeh keep yeh eyes peeled, yeh might see ‘un. Lilac, they are, an’ tame as anything…”

oOoOo

As Draco and Harry placed their snakes back in Isis’s aquarium and Theo opened his wardrobe to get a clean set of robes, Blaise leant on the closed Dormitory door and smiled significantly.

“Gentlemen, I have grounds to believe that ‘Fluffy’ is guarding the Philosophers Stone.”

“The… the Philosopher’s Stone!” gasped Draco.

Harry looked at Blaise, his emerald eyes round as saucers “Is that…”

“A material which can convert base metals, like lead, into gold and, allegedly, secretes the Elixir of Life!” said Theo in an awestruck tone.

“Indeed” smiled Blaise “The ultimate goal of alchemy, sought by Issac Newton, Frater Albertus and, of course, the legendary Nicholas Flamel.”

“Flamel… Hagrid implied that Fluffy was guarding something for Flamel” whisper-screamed Draco, grinning wildly. “Oh my Gods!”

“Hermione will not believe this!” giggled Theo “The legendary Philosopher’s Stone, right under our noses.”

Blaise, who had been searching through his Chocolate Frog Cards, drew out the one for Dumbledore. “Listen to this ‘Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel.”

Harry beamed “I knew I’d heard that name before somewhere, Professor Snape told me about Flamel’s research on dragon blood!”

“How did Dumbledore work on the Philosopher’s Stone” scoffed Theo “He’s only, what, 130ish and Flamel’s stone has been around for about six hundred years!”

“Maybe they thought the Stone could be improved” Blaise said dismissively. “Whatever, Flamel’s lent it to Dumbledore and it’s here in Hogwarts.”

“Let’s go get it!” enthused Draco, practically bouncing up and down.

“One, there’s a Cerberus in the way, two, there’s a Cerberus in the way and, if that isn’t persuasive enough, three, there’s a Cerberus in the way” drawled Blaise.

“Besides, Dray, why do you even want it? Your family is rolling in galleons.”

“Immortality, Theo” sighed Draco. “Well, we’ll just have to see if we can wheedle some Cerberus taming tricks out of Hagrid.”

“But…” Harry hesitated.

“Yes Harry?” asked Draco, slumping on the bed and kicking his heels.

“Wouldn’t it be wrong to steal Flamel’s stone? It’d be like killing him.” Harry said, looking upset.

Draco bit his lip, suddenly serious “Well, maybe we could just take a few dozen beakers of Elixir each and leave the stone. I mean, it’s not as if it can’t make more of the stuff.”

“Or chip off a tiny bit and analyse it” added Theo “We could make our own!”

Blaise grinned “Okay, but, before we can do all that, we need to get our greasy little paws on the sucker. Let’s get together over the Yule holidays and discuss ways and means. Dray, are your parents throwing a party?”

“We always do.”

“Get them to invite all of us to stay over. And Hermione, of course.”

Draco looked slightly concerned but nodded “Of course.”

Blaise smiled “I’ve got a feeling that this coming year is going to be remembered as the Year of the Philosopher’s Stone.”

oOoOo

“Now, children," said Snape, leaning back in his study armchair, "I think that I have time to teach you a highly useful little spell before Professor Dumbledore arrives”

“Cool, Sir!” grinned Harry, setting a half eaten éclair down on his plate.

Draco, who had his mouth full, beamed a chocolate besmeared smile and sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“The incantation is ‘orchideous’, Orr-kid-ee-us” Professor Snape flicked his wand and a bouquet of purple hyacinths, maroon roses and white arum lilies materialised.

“Flowers?” cried Draco, who had managed to choke down his doughnut “but, Sir, flowers aren’t very useful?”

“As you enter adulthood, Draco, you will find that, in some situations, a bouquet is often worth a thousand words. And, with some ladies, a million words of apology will not be able to excuse your forgetting her birthday, your anniversary, Valentines Day, etcetera.”

Harry giggled “Orchidus!" nothing happened "Oh, no, wait, it's Orchideous” a bunch of pink roses and stargazer lilies fell into his hand. “Oh wow! Mine are different!”

“The arrangement alters according to the taste and personality of the caster.” Professor Snape explained.

“Pink! Potter.” Crowed Draco teasingly. Harry blushed and punched him lightly in the arm.

“Really, gentlemen!” Professor Snape smiled “The bright colour of Harry’s blooms signifies an open, happy heart. Nothing more.”

“Orchideous” said Draco, grinning as large, scarlet and gold tea-roses showered from his wand.

“Ha! Gryff colours! Gutted!” laughed Harry.

“You can’t get silver or green roses, Harry.” sniffed Draco.

“Again, it is the ancient symbolism of the colours which should be considered; gold is traditionally the colour of royalty and red signifies fire, passion and masculinity.”

Draco smirked.

“Hello, boys, good evening Professor Snape” beamed Dumbledore, stepping out of the fire “What a lovely surprise to find a room filled with flowers! Gifts for Mrs Malfoy, I presume?”

“Yes, Headmaster” Severus replied levelly.

“What sort of flowers do you make, Sir?” asked Harry enthusiastically “I have pink roses and these nice white-and-pink lilies, Draco makes red and gold roses and Professor Snape does hyacinths, roses and lilies.”

Dumbledore blinked the sad expression from his eyes and forced a smile “Why, I do not know, Harry. It has been many years since I had cast that particular spell. What is the incarnation, again? Ah ‘orchideous’!”

Forget-me-nots, white blooms, whose petals culminated in purple, and small, star-shaped flowers, with myriads of little, green-spotted balls at their centres, streamed from the old wizard’s wand.

“Ah! Still Edelweiss.”

“Wow, I’ve never seen these before, Sir!” said Harry, cradling a flower and stroking its soft, woolly petals.

“It is a mountain plant” the Headmaster replied in a slightly hoarse voice “Feel free to keep them, my boy.” He rummaged in the pocket of his purple paisley robe “Ah, here we are, some little Yule gifts for you all.”

Professor Dumbledore handed Harry a squishy blue present patterned with fluttering golden snitches, Draco received a knobbly black parcel with a swirling hydrophis belcheri design and Severus was given what looked like a large jar wrapped in plain, dark green paper- with a big silver ribbon.

“Thank you, Headmaster.”

“Wow! Thanks Sir! Can we open them now?!” asked Draco.

“It is bad luck to open Yule gifts early, Master Malfoy.” Replied professor Dumbledore blithely.

“I don’t have anything for you yet, Sir” said Harry sadly “We’re not going to Diagon Alley until tomorrow.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, my dear boy.” Dumbledore smiled kindly “Yule is for children, after all.”

Harry was struck with an idea “Orchideous!” a bright posy of orange roses and yellow and red stargazer lilies appeared in his hands “For you, Sir!”

“Harry! You can’t give men flowers!” sighed Draco rolling his eyes.

“Thank you very much, my boy.” Laughed Dumbledore “When you get to my great age, Master Malfoy, one begins to be grateful for any flowers of a non-funerary persuasion. Now, the hour is growing late so I will take my leave, thereby allowing you to take yours. Happy Yule, children, Severus”

“Happy Yule, Headmaster.”

As soon as Professor Dumbledore had disappeared through the floo, Draco turned to Harry “It’s not really bad luck, you know” he smirked mischievously, ripping the paper off a beautifully painted wooden dragon.

Severus sighed and nodded to Harry: term was, technically, over, after all. Taking this as permission, Harry carefully removed the tape holding the present closed and drew out a fine, silvery cloak.

Thank you, Headmaster Severus thought, as he massaged his temples. Thank you so very much.

oOoOo

“Oh Daddy, it is so cool! Harry just got an invisibility cloak. The note said it was his Dad's! It’s a really good one!” Draco burbled, clutching the navy velvet sleeve of his father’s robe.

Harry, who had stumbled out of the floo just in time to catch this snippet of information smiled shyly. “Hello.”

“Good evening, Mr Potter.” Lucius gave a flourishing bow and Harry, rather more awkwardly, copied him, blushing. 

“Ah, and Severus. I hear you were delayed by the Headmaster.”

Severus stepped out of the floo behind Harry, resting a gentle, reassuring hand on his charge’s shoulder. “Indeed, Lucius. Professor Dumbledore wished to give us his Yule gifts.” The Potions Master rolled his eyes.

“I got a dragon! Look, it even breathes mock-fire!” Draco pulled on the dragon’s wings and, opening its tiny jaws, the toy gave a small burst of flame.

“Indeed” Lucius smiled at his son fondly “Although” his silver eyes flitted to Harry’s invisibility cloak “I imagine that, in this instance, the German would also apply.” Lucius gave Severus a significant smirk “One man’s meat...”

“Indeed!”

“Well, children, I think that we really should present ourselves in the Yellow Drawing Room. We wouldn’t want those flowers to wilt, would we?”

“Or us to wilt, Father! I’m absolutely famished.”

“Draco!” Harry giggled “We had afternoon tea only half an hour ago.”

Lucius looked over at Harry, pewter eyes softening slightly, before turning to his son “An age of the earth ago, indeed, my Dragon.”

Harry grinned at Professor Snape: Mr Malfoy spoke to Draco in almost exactly the same tone that the Potions Master used for Harry.

It was not lost on Severus, either, that Draco’s happy, confiding, affectionate tone rather resembled Harry’s when the little boy spoke to Severus.

oOoOo

“Darlings! I was wondering whether the floo had eaten you!”

Draco rushed towards an elegant, pretty woman whose blond hair was fastened in an elegant knot at the back of her head with a huge sapphire, the shade of which was echoed her azure taffeta robes.

“Hello, Mummy, this is Harry Potter, my best friend.”

Mrs Malfoy’s eyes, cool and blue as her sapphires, fell on Harry, who blushingly bowed.

“I have some flowers for you, Mrs Malfoy” Harry murmured shyly, holding out the roses and lilies.

“How charming…”

“I have some for you too, Mummy!” Draco shoved his roses under her nose.

“Thank you Draco. What lovely flowers! I shall put these here, Draco, on the piano. The sunshine colours will look well together, and, if I may, Harry, I will have these in the dining room: blue and pink look simply wonderful together.”

Madam Malfoy clicked her scarlet tipped fingers “Suvie!”

A strange, small creature popped out of thin air. Harry gazed at it, wide eyed; it’s pale eyes were large and long lashed, it’s long ears pointed and it’s little snub nose as round as a chestnut. She, it seemed female, was wearing a crisp white tea-towel, draped like a toga.

“Suvie! Place the pink flowers in the fluted crystal vase. They are to go in the dining room. The red and yellow roses are to go in the round, creamware vase, on the piano in here.” She handed the bouquets carefully to the creature but something about the gesture suggested to Harry that it was more due to solicitude for the flowers rather than care for the elf.

“Dismissed.” The creature disappeared with a pop “Now, gentlemen, shall we have some aperitifs?” Mrs Malfoy asked with a bright smile.

oOoOo

“Psst! Draco”

“Yes Harry?” said Draco, pulling back the aquamarine curtain of his four poster bed, the wood of which was carved with the images of duelling warlocks, dragons and beautiful witches. The boys had begged to share a room for the duration of their holidays: it was, they said, for the sake of poor Reggie and Isis, who’d be lonely otherwise.

“Um, what’s a Suvie?” whispered Harry, whose head was tucked comfortably between the claret silk duvet and a plump pillow.

“Its our house-elf” whispered Draco with a quiet laugh.

“Oh! I’ve never seen one before.” giggled Harry, feeling a bit silly.

“We're going to have to investigate the Hogwarts kitchens next term” grinned Draco “Or, better yet…”

Draco sat up with a rustle of green silk “Dobby?”

An even thinner house-elf materialised, with a nose as long as a carrot and ears that stuck out of its head horizontally. Unlike Suvie, he was dressed in a grubby rag.

“Dobby, two ice-cream sundaes please. I will have cherries and peaches in mine, butterscotch and chocolate ice cream, vanilla cream, toffee sauce and chocolate shavings. Harry?”

“Um, the same please.”

“Is that… is that Harry Potter!” the little creature gasped.

“Yes it is, and he will be very angry with you if you do not fetch our sundaes right away.” said Draco sternly.

Looking frightened, Dobby disapperated with a pop.

Noticing Harry’s concerned expression, Draco sighed “Yes, I know I’m too soft with him but he’s such a wretched-looking little bugger it’s hard not to pity him. Used to be owned my aunt Hortensia, you know. She was a mad old hag, badmouthed my father constantly to the elf and, now we’ve inherited him, he’s practically unmanageable. We have to keep him below stairs; not only does he constantly gibber on about us being 'bad dark wizards”, he's so negligent about his appearance, he isn't fit to be seen!"

Dobby reappeared with the sundaes, which he set down on the beside table before vanishing without a word. As Harry tucked into his ice-cream, he couldn’t help but think that there were some things he’d probably never understand about the wizarding world: it seemed kind of wrong that elves should be ‘inherited’, like property or something, but, Harry thought, he was as clueless as any muggleborn on some things so, really, what did he know?

“Hi Draco!” Harry smiled, sticking his pencil behind his ear.

“Whatyoo writing. It’s too early to start on your Yule homewooork” Draco said, ending with an enormous yawn.

“Just a list of presents I need to buy” Harry said with a sigh “I’ve managed to think of most people but I’m sure I’ve forgotten someone.”

“Give it here” Draco took Harry’s notebook. He scanned the page, his eyebrows rising “Gods, Harry, this is almost as bad as Mother’s! Me, Zabini, Goyle, Crabbe, Nott, Granger, Greengrass, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Davis, Longbottom, Snape, Burbage, Pomfrey, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Sinistra, Spout, McGonagall, Flitwick, Hooch, my parents, Dudley! You’re even getting something for that great lout? Oh, and Reggie, Isis and Hedwig.” Draco giggled “May I suggest you give Dudley to Isis; I’m sure she’d like a chew toy!”

“Hey!” laughed Harry, throwing a pillow at Draco.

“You’re going down, Potter!” yelled Draco, jumping on top of Harry and whacking him on the head with a pillow. Harry giggled and thumped his pillow against Draco’s side.

Draco’s pillow burst as Lucius Malfoy opened the door.

“And just what is happening here?” said Lucius in a mock, stern voice, tapping his foot.

Harry looked through the mist of feathers at Draco “Um, it was my fault, Sir. Er… I threw a pillow at Draco.” The boy gulped, wide, green eyes darting to the cane in Mr Malfoy’s hand. “I started it.”

Lucius gazed at Harry, perplexed at the child’s fearful tone. Then he noticed that the boys eyes were riveted on his cane. Lucius pressed his hard lips, lest they tremble.

“Harry! It’s just a dumb pillow! And I broke it, not you.” Draco said, gently punching Harry’s arm “Dad was just teasing, anyway. He can fix it in a second, right Dad?”

“Of course, Draco” Mr Malfoy answered softly “Mr Potter, any accidents which occur in this house will not be punished. All children break things and, as Draco said, it is easy enough to repair them.”

Lucius twirled his wand and the feathers flew inside the pillowcase, which resealed itself. “There. Now, children, it is time for breakfast. You have fifteen minutes. Chop chop!”

oOoOo

“Jewellery. It’s a failsafe gift.” Draco confided with a grin, leading Harry into a small jewellers store.

Harry looked around, eyes lighting up in amazement: as well as the usual muggle jewels, there were some pieces which were obviously enchanted: Little pendants engraved with moving animals, round brooches, the stones of which changed colour, giving the impression of a flower blooming, and watches which, in stead of numbers, had sentences like ‘time to go to work’, ‘travelling’ and ‘lost’.

As Draco perused the rings, Harry approached a counter labelled ‘Broomstick Tags”: They were little silver bands which, according to the sign, would stick permanently to a broom. Harry grinned: there was one with a little orange and green banded, enamel snake which looked just like Isis. He picked it up and walked over to the plump, grey-bearded shopkeeper “Um, Sir, could you put this behind the counter for me whilst I pick out some other things” he whispered.

The shopkeeper nodded “Very well, young Sir. I could key in a name if you like” His eyes flicked to Draco “Found anything pleasing, young master Malfoy?”

As Harry nodded, Draco replied “I’m looking for something for a muggleborn. A small gift, relatively discreet. She likes books.”

Harry turned away with a grin and started browsing: Snape had given him what remained of the bag of gold for spending money and Harry had worked out that he had five galleons per person. So, another broomstick charm for Hooch, this time with a nice little miniature broom on it, a yellow ‘blooming flower’ brooch for Spout, a oval, blue-bloodstone pendant, which sparkled like the night’s sky, for Sinistra, a pretty pair of carnelian earrings, carved to look like poppies, for Madam Pomfrey, a nice locket with an engraved cat for McGonagall, a very pretty necklace of round, rose-quartz beads for Professor Burbage, an enamelled Heartsease pendant for Pansy, a cute little ballerina pendant for Tracy, a pair of serpentine earrings for Daphne, a cool silver ring which looked like a coiled snake for Milly and, for Hermione a really beautiful pendant with a silver snake circling a round of jade on which was carved ‘Wit Beyond Measure is Man’s Greatest Treasure’.

“Buying out the store, Harry” asked Draco, as Harry added a beautiful tiepin set with a black, purple and green opal to his stash. Professor Dumbledore seemed to like shiny, bright things.

“Only the not too expensive parts!” grinned Harry. “Nothing much over two galleons, though I haven’t chosen for your mother yet.” He finished, cheekily.

“Oh!” grinned Draco “Get her the opal earrings. I was torn between those and this pretty pearl and sapphire hair ornament.”

“Four galleons, not bad” grinned Harry “How come everything’s so cheap? It’d cost a bomb in muggle shops.”

The shopkeeper laughed, adding a wrapped box to Harry’s pile with a conspiring wink “Well, most of what you’ve chosen is made from semiprecious as opposed to precious stones and silver instead of gold. Good quality but not too costly. Secondly, it don’t take a magically trained silversmith five minutes to set these, whereas it’d take a muggle a few hours and, thirdly, we have ways and means of finding metals and stones which muggles can only dream of. It also helps that we do a pretty brisk trade. Will this be all, young Sirs?”

“Yes… Oh, no! Wait.” Harry gasped “How much is that watch?”

“Good eye, young Sir, very good eye. Lovely, that is. Hematite face, platinum numbering and surround and dragon-leather strap. Goblin made too. Quite expensive, I’m afraid; ten galleons, though I could do it for eight seeing as you’re buying so much else.”

“I think I could just about manage that” said Harry, sorting through his coin purse. “Yeah! Professor Snape’ll love it.”

“Very well. Would you like me to wrap em’ all up for you? Separate wrappings with ribbons and a label: won’t take me a jiffy.”

Harry and Draco left the shop with bulging bags and pleased grins: Yule shopping was easy.

oOoOo

“Hey, how about this for Blaise ‘Sassy Spells for Savvy Sorcerers: a comprehensive compendium of spells for the modern Warlock.’" Harry grinned "Listen to this ‘Cinderella Charms: changes any outfit to evening-wear for up to six hours’. Oh and there’s this table of ‘Offenses’ with really funny ‘ironic’ jinxes to cast on the one who did it to you.”

“Blaise will love it.” Draco grinned “And I’ve found two new publications, one on alchemy, the other on obscure spells. Theo will love either of them so why don’t you give him one and I’ll give him another.”

OoOoO

“Father loves cherry liquors. You could do much worse than to get him a box of those.”

“And Neville really loves chocolate frogs; look they’re got a special Yule edition with ‘Christmas pudding’, ‘Speculaas’ and ‘Mulled Wine’ flavours!” Harry smiled, holding up a loudly coloured carton. “I’ve heard Flitwick likes them too!”

“How come you always find everything great first?!” whined Draco

“Seekers eyes!” Harry grinned, grabbing a packet of assorted Chocoballs for Dudley.

“Oh sod off Potter! I’m taking your present back now!” Draco said in mock ire, sticking out his tongue. “You might want to get some cockroach cluster, by the way. You can tell Dudders its peanut brittle!”

OoOoO

“Come on, Dray, ‘Quality Quidditch Supplies’ next! I want to get some Beater Gloves for Vin and Greg.” Harry smiled secretly to himself and a golden snitch for my best friend.

oOoOo

“Oh I’m exhausted! Let’s go to Fortescues for a Yule Log Special” moaned Draco.

“But I haven’t got anything for Hagrid yet!” said Harry.

“Should have just got him sweets like I did.” groaned Draco, slumping against a wall melodramatically.

“I tried to find a book on Dragons for him but there was nothing in the bookshop except a really dumb one for kids.” Harry said with a sigh.

Draco’s brow wrinkled “I know where we can find one but…”

“Oh!” Harry straightened up, smiling.

Draco grinned at his best friend “Come on, let’s go to 'Borgin and Burkes'. It’s just around the corner.”

oOoOo

“God! That shop gave me the creeps. That cursed necklace! And the ‘Hand of Glory’! Urrgggh!”

“Well, you got your Dragon book, right?”

“Yeah, thanks Dray! You’re the best.”

“And just what, exactly, are you two doing in Knockturn Alley!” said a familiar baritone.

Harry and Draco spun around.

“Professor Snape! Father!” spluttered Draco, his eyes flickering between the two thunderous faces “We were just…”

“Found where you were explicitly forbidden from being.” finished Lucius sternly.

Harry paled: Knockturn Alley… he truly hadn’t realised…

Draco looked at Harry and, placing a hand on the trembling boy’s arm, girt himself for parental displeasure “Father, it’s my fault. Potter wanted a book on dragons so I led him here. He probably didn’t even know that we’d left Diagon Alley.”

Lucius looked surprised. Draco was a natural wriggler: if his young son could possibly avoid responsibility for his sins, he would. The number of times the boy had palmed off his own wrongdoing on poor little Crabbe and Goyle over the years…

“We will discuss this further at home. Come.” Lucius swept away, two chastened boys and a slightly amused Potions Master in his wake.

OoOoO

“Hi Draco” Harry murmured, looking up with concerned green eyes as his friend entered the room “How did it go?”

“Oh Father put me on the rack and burnt me with red hot pokers!” Draco tossed a doughnut at his worried best friend “No, Harry, I’m just grounded for a week but Father said that, as I’d told the truth and as you, my guest, did nothing wrong, he’s going to postpone the punishment to the spring break” Draco giggled, his eyes glowing with mischief “By which time Daddy will have forgotten all about it!”

Draco bounced on his feet, beaming “Dad and I do this every year. Mummy doesn’t care for it, though: at my grandparent’s house, Sable Gate, the house-elves did everything. Too boring!”

Harry looked around the room smiling. In one corner stood a gigantic blue fir (a real one, not the artificial type Aunt Petunia favoured), with fragrant baskets of holly, ivy, yew, cedar and mistletoe gathered around the base. On a side-board, there were basins of cloves, ribbons and oranges, to make pomanders, and Harry simply couldn’t wait to see what was inside the decoration boxes.

Mr Malfoy opened the first box and pulled out some books “Now, first of all, each of us is to pick a wall…”

“I want the one with the big bay window, Daddy!”

“Don’t interrupt, Draco. We will each pick a wall and then decorate it with an image from one of these books, the charm is ‘Escribo.” And, yes, you may have the bay window Draco, as long as you show Harry how to make permanent-snowflakes too.”

Severus, noticing that Harry was looking uncertain, said “You are currently under the supervision of a teacher, Harry and, moreover, we are within a magical dwelling. Therefore, the rule against using magic outside of Hogwarts does not apply.”

Harry flicked through the book Mr Malfoy had given him: it was filled with paintings of beautiful winter scenes. He had an idea.

“Um, Mr Malfoy?”

“Yes, Harry” said Lucius, as he spelled a beautiful image of the moon in a clear, frosty, star-filled sky on the vaulted ceiling.

“I’ve got book of really nice paintings in my trunk upstairs" Harry said shyly "May I go and get it?”

“Of course, Harry. A new picture would be a welcome addition” Lucius smiled kindly at the nervous boy “I’m afraid that I’ve rather neglected my print library these last two years.”

Harry scampered off and came back holding a small, slightly shabby book. He opened it and showed the picture to Mr Malfoy; it was of three beautiful fir trees in a snowy landscape, with the blue shadow of a castle bleeding through the purple-grey mist.

“This is lovely Harry.” said Lucius, as Draco dragged down his father’s arm so he could see too.

“Wow! Cool Harry!” gasped Draco “Caspar David Friedrich, I’ve never even heard of him.”

Lucius looked at the front cover “The National Gallery, London…”

“Uncle Vernon took me there on my last birthday before…” Harry stopped, looking sad. He forced a smile “My uncle bought me that book in the giftshop.”

Draco’s grey eyes widened “A muggle painted that!”

“Yeah, there are loads of other winter paintings too,” said Harry, taking the book from Lucius’s unresisting hand “come and see!”

As the two children sat on a plush, chanteuse silk sofa, poring over the book, Lucius turned to Severus, who was pressing cloves into an orange, “I had no idea that muggles were so advanced!”

oOoOo

“Well!” said Madam Malfoy, as she sipped her red wine, “That rather exceeded my expectations.”

Lucius nodded “Indeed, my dear. It was a capital idea, Severus, to visit the National Gallery. I was most impressed and, I must say, that the books I purchased will be a positive addition to my collection.”

Draco turned to Harry, giggling “Not to mention the Deuren!”

Lucius smiled indulgently “I must admit, Draco, that portrait of a young astronomer did rather take my fancy. A shame that the manager was so unobliging.”

Narcissa patted her husbands arm sympathetically. “So, Severus, what is next on our agenda?”

“Pudding!” cried Draco, who had polished off the last of his fish and chips “That chocolate fondant looks jolly good!”

“I agree.” smiled Narcissa “Muggles are certainly very… creative creatures, I suppose they need to be to survive!”

Severus smiled “I thought that young Draco and Harry would enjoy the Science Museum. After pudding, of course.”

oOoOo

“My son” said Lucius later that evening, as he slowly swirled his calvados “Has become very fond of young Master Potter” the firelight filtered through the amber liquid in his glass, dancing across the sage leather of the armchairs and burning brightly against the grey silk of the study walls.

“Indeed” replied Severus, leaning back on the sofa, his face enveloped in the shadows.

“Indeed. I have been long aware that Harry is somewhat more to Draco than a mere political alliance and, yesterday evening, I gleaned that Draco thinks of Harry almost as a brother. A younger brother." Lucius paused significantly "I fear, that, should the Dark Lord ever return, Draco might reveal himself to be quite unpersuadable as to giving up Harry.”

“That is, regrettably, quite possible.” Severus replied quietly.

“I would imagine that you, of all people, would understand, old friend.” Lucius smiled “After all, you also had a childhood acquaintance whom you found impossible to relinquish.”

Severus forced his body to remain relaxed, his breathing to remain even.

“The Dark Lord began to suspect a spy in his ranks shortly after his decision to… counter the prophesy. I must admit, I did wonder at the time whether there was a link, Severus.” said Lucius quietly “I did not air my views, however, as, if my conclusions were correct, the safety of my childhood friend would be jeopardised.”

Lucius drained his glass and raised an elegant hand. Severus’s bouquet flew through the door and smacked into his palm.

“You visit her every Yule, old friend: at different times, on different days, under different disguises. Yet you always bring the same flowers: ‘Forgive me, beautiful Lily. I will forever mourn you.’” Lucius said softly.

“And now” Lucius added to his silent companion “Another green-eyed child has entered your heart. However, unlike your love for his mother, you will not be able to keep this relationship silent. Many have already noticed that you and Harry are more than just a tutor and student to each other. Many more are surmising that, soon, you will claim Harry as your son.”

“I have no plans to do so” Severus replied stiffly.

For a while, the silence was unbroken save for the chink of glass and the rich, viscous sound of liqueur glugging into glasses.

“You were the spy, Severus” murmured Lucius “and, although I thought your betrayal of our Master foolish, although it struck at the heart of what were my beliefs, I did not betray you.”

“I was the one who heard the Prophesy. I told the Dark Lord.” Severus whispered.

“V…oldemort” said Lucius slowly “became progressively more unstable and violent in his latter years. If the increasingly arbitrary punishments were not proof enough, Voldemort's reaction to the Prophesy clearly indicated that his once powerful mind was fragmenting. Every schoolboy has read the tale of Oedipus and Voldemort’s decision was similarly nonsensical and has, I think, ended with a near identical outcome: Voldemort orphaned poor young Harry, a boy who, in other circumstances, would not have been the remotest of threats to him, thus giving Harry the motive to fulfil the Prophesy. And, indeed, if Voldemort rises again, he will continue to hunt Harry until one of them kills the other.” Lucius paused significantly “Voldemort was highly jealous of his followers’ loyalty and, I fear, Draco will never be fully loyal to him if Harry’s safety is in question.”

“The Dark Lord’s mother was the scion of the house of Gaunt, which is notorious for the mental-instability and, indeed, criminal insanity prevalent in the majority of its bloodline.” ventured Severus.

“Gaunt…” said Lucius thoughtfully “Wasn’t there a scandal, many years back, concerning old Gaunt’s daughter running off with a muggle?”

“Voldemort was a half-blood. His father abandoned his mother before his birth.” Severus replied.

“Indeed.” Lucius said coldly “I think, therefore, that, should Voldemort return, it would highly inappropriate for me to continue to serve the hypocrite.”

“You wish to leave the Dark Lord’s service?” Severus confirmed carefully.

“My first loyalty is to my family, old friend. Just as your first loyalty was to Lily and is now to her son.” Lucius replied.

“Should the Dark Lord return, I will, of course, remain his servant.” Severus said tersely.

Lucius smiled “You are not the only natural legilimens among our group, Severus, nor were you the only one who had an interest in Voldemort’s downfall. There is another who might be persuaded to spy in your stead, if he could but be offered Amnesty. Indeed, it is highly debatable, given your obvious fondness for the Potter boy, that it would be possible to convince Voldemort that your loyalty is not divided. Unless, of course, you portrayed your interest in the boy in a rather different light...” Lucius swirled his drink, smiling into Severus’s furious, outraged eyes “You are a fine legilimens, Severus, and a highly believable actor but would you really be able to manufacture fantasies, on demand, for Voldemort’s pleasure when the boy concerned is the son of your heart?”

Severus swallowed and looked away, his face chalky pale. Lucius was correct that Voldemort would believe no other excuse, that the only ‘acceptable’ reason for the interest Severus had shown in Harry was… Severus shuddered: he could pretend to find entertainment in Voldemort making sport of muggles, he could fake complaisance during murders, he could even mask his feelings whilst watching people being tortured into insanity but, no, Severus would not, could not fabricate thoughts like that about Harry. Every instinct rebelled. Harry was and must remain sacrosanct. He was as good as Severus's child.

“Really, my friend,” Lucius added “you must see that your energies would be much better spent protecting the boy... from everyone who might endanger him. To achieve this, you must have legal control; I have contacts with the Adoption Agency and, by Yuel, Harry could officially be your son.”

“I would have to discuss this step with Albus and, moreover, while Harry may consider me a favourite teacher, he might not wish to have me as his father.” Severus said quietly.

Lucius laughed softly “The boy adores you, Severus but, even if this were not the case, I believe that any child who has endured Harry’s life would be grateful for an established home. Think on the benefits: Harry would be almost constantly under your protection, his status as your son would discourage Slytherins from attempting to spirit him away and, moreover, you could use your holidays to teach Harry Duelling.” Lucius pressed the flowers into Severus’ hand. “Any mother would prefer a loving father for her orphan son over vengeance for her death.”

Severus nodded, breathing in the heady scent of the hyacinths. They had been the contrary Lily’s favourite flower. “What would you gain from my adoption of Harry?”

Lucius smiled, his white teeth glinting “If you were to adopt Harry, Dumbledore himself would not be able to remove him from your care. Now, Should Voldemort return, I expect you would remove him to Uroborus, your safe haven. Draco, naturally, would wish to be wherever Harry was.”

“Uroborus, while heavily warded, is not invulnerable.” Severus replied quietly

“Young Master Potter” Lucius said slowly “Was placed with his wretched Aunt because she shares blood with her sister, Lily, who died to protect Harry. Or, at least, that was the reason Dumbledore gave me; for all I know he was using Harry’s childhood to make him more malleable." Lucius grimaced "However, it is true that powerful blood wards can be built on such a relationship. Master Dursley is no longer living with his mother, I take it?”

“No.” Severus replied.

“Install the Dursley boy in Uroborus and have Dumbledore craft the blood-wards around him. A Fidelis charm would not go amiss and, if I may venture to say so, it would be a damn good idea to have Harry as the secret keeper.”

“An unbreakable vow, Lucius." Severus said quietly "I will swear to protect you, your wife and your son and give you all shelter at Uroborus on request. In return, I ask that you and Narcissa swear to leave the Dark, no, V…Voldemort’s service and to protect Harry as you would Draco.”

“We will also promise that we will never knowingly aid the Dark Lord in harming you or Harry” said Narcissa, approaching Lucius’s chair. She reached down a small, white hand and brushed her husband’s blond hair off his shoulder, so she could look into his face. “Lucius and I are decided. Draco is the most important thing in the world to us, Severus, and, while we may never agree with Dumbledore on the importance and superiority of blood-purity, we will not jeopardize our son by remaining in Voldemort’s service.”

Severus nodded his assent and Lucius reached over and enveloped the Potions Masters’ callused hand in his own warm, smooth one. Narcissa removed her wand and gently placed it over their clasped fingers.

“Will you, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, swear to leave the service of Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as ‘Lord Voldemort’, ‘the Dark Lord’, ‘You Know Who’ and ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’? Severus asked.

“I will so swear.” A fiery snake whispered from Narcissa’s wand, circling the men’s wrists and biting its own tail.

“Will you, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, swear that, once you leave the service of Tom Marvolo Riddle, you will never return to the service of Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as ‘Lord Voldemort’, ‘the Dark Lord’, ‘You Know Who’ and ‘He Who Must Not Be Named?”

“I will so swear.” Another bright band joined the first, forming a helix.

“Will you, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, swear that you will protect Harry James Potter as you would protect Draco René Antonius Malfoy, your son and heir?”

“I will so swear” the third snake of light wove through the centre of the helix, forming a lattice which glowed against their skin.

“Will you, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, swear that you will never intentionally harm Harry or intentionally aid anyone, including Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as ‘Lord Voldemort’, ‘the Dark Lord’, ‘You Know Who’ and ‘He Who Must Not Be Named, in harming Harry?”

“I will so swear.” The final fiery snake bound the strands into a bright rope, burning white.

Lucius, realising that Severus’s requests were complete, then asked “Will you, Severus Tobias Snape, swear to protect my son, Draco René Antonius Malfoy and my wife, Narcissa Aikaterine Sable Malfoy, as you would Harry James Potter?

“I will so swear.” Replied Severus, watching a new band of fire twist around their hands.

“Will you, Severus Tobias Snape, swear to never intentionally harm my son, Draco René Antonius Malfoy or my wife, Narcissa Aikaterine Sable Malfoy, or me, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy?

“I will so swear” intoned Severus, as a second bright snake helixed with the first.

“Will you, Severus Tobias Snape, swear to allow my son, Draco René Antonius Malfoy and my wife, Narcissa Aikaterine Sable Malfoy, and myself, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, to have sanctuary in Uroborus if any of us so requests?”

“I will so swear.” The third fiery snake bound with the first two, twining them into a rope.

Lucius pulled Severus into a tight embrace “Thank you, my friend.”

To: A.P.W.B. Dumbledore
From S.T. Snape.

(Ciphered)

Dear Headmaster,

The holiday is progressing successfully. Following a day-trip to Wizarding London, yesterday, which young Messrs Potter and Malfoy spent (mostly) in Diagon Alley, Harry and I, today, escorted Mr and Mrs Malfoy and young Master Malfoy to the National Gallery and Science Museum. Messrs Potter and Malfoy enjoyed critiquing the art, especially the uglier portraits, and the box of glass eyeballs in the Science Museum was held to be superbly disgusting. Mr Malfoy has added considerably to his personal library and, also, the Museums’ funds via the gift-shops. Additionally, Harry and Draco are now the proud owners of a pair of plastic eyeball keyrings.

Master Potter appears to be settling into the family very well and has struck up a particular friendship with Flossie, who has the dual claims to Harry's affection of being a. pregnant and b. scarred through the abuse of a former owner. I fear that we will not escape the Malfoy seat without a puppy in tow. Harry is gathering quite the menagerie.

Over the last three days, I have spent no inconsiderable period of time thinking on whether it would be to Mr Potter's benefit if I should take a greater role in his life. Immediately before we left Uroborus, Mr Potter expressed serious concerns as to leaving and asked if he could return for his next holiday and, during many of our Saturday afternoon meetings, Mr Potter has repeated his desire to holiday with me, expressing an eagerness to spend time together in a non-academic setting. Moreover, before Mr Potter, who is, as you know, a parselmouth, left Uroborus, he met Salazar Slytherin’s portrait and they conversed until sometime before dawn (which was when I discovered Mr Potter asleep in Slytherin's Chamber). During our subsequent conversation, Professor Slytherin, counselled me to adopt Mr Potter and his opinion, that Mr Potter considered me as a father, was born out on the day of Mr Potter’s Quidditch accident, when Harry addressed me as ‘Dad’ and, furthermore, begged me not to leave him and said that he loved me.

I believe that an adoption would be in Mr Potter’s best interests and, if Mr Potter agrees, I will endeavour to provide him with a stable, loving home. I am, of course, aware that, should, as we suspect, T.R. return, that my adopting Harry will leave the Order embarrassed for a spy. I have made arrangements.

Yours Sincerely,

Severus Snape

From the Desk of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

11th November

Dear Severus,

I drafted this letter _6_ weeks months years ago as it seemed rather obvious to me that young Harry Potter would, eventually, carry his point. Yes, by all means; at this stage, I cannot imagine that adoption will be anything other than an official confirmation of an established relationship. I am very happy for you both and sincerely believe that you will do very well together. Now, no more lollygagging; off to W.A.S. with you both. Chop chop.

With love and best wishes,

Albus.

“Draco, sweetie, could you come and help Mummy choose a Yule gift for Harry?”

“Oh Mummy! Harry and I were about to play Mages and Maidens!” whined Draco, pouting at his mother from the bed, upon which the board game was laid out.

“Draco…” Narcissa said sternly, tapping a small, grey suede boot and crossing her arms under her ultramarine travelling cloak.

“Okay Mummy but it’s not very sporting, you know. Leaving poor Harry all alone like this.” grumbled Draco, standing up.

(‘Poor Harry’ blushed and looked away, feeling slightly uncomfortable.)

“Harry, dear, if you’d like, you could go and sit with Severus. He’s in the yellow drawing room.” Narcissa said in a kind voice.

“Okay, Mrs Malfoy.” Harry smiled at his best friend encouragingly but Draco just looked sulky.

Draco and Mrs Malfoy walked with Harry down the stairs, to the family drawing-room.

“Bye Harry.” said Draco when they reached the door “Remember, you owe me a game!”

Harry grinned “Sure. Have a nice time shopping”

“Thank you Harry” smiled Mrs Malfoy “Draco and I will bring home ice-creams so try not to fill up to much on sweet things before we get back.”

Harry nodded “Yes Mrs Malfoy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Come along, Draco”

As Harry watched Draco positively skip after his elegant mother, he couldn’t help but think that it was amazing what the promise of ice-cream could do.

OoOoO

“Hello, Harry” smiled Severus from the low, primrose silk sofa, where he was sitting with Flossy’s soft, fluffy, black head in his lap “I see that Mrs Malfoy carried her point with Draco.”

Harry sat down on the other side of the pregnant briard “Yes, Sir. Mrs Malfoy has a kind of quiet way of being firm.”

Severus chuckled “Yes, she has. Harry, I must confess that it pleases me to see how well you have settled into the Manor; many children find such a situation difficult, especially with a family as closely knit as Lucius, Narcissa and Draco.”

“They’re all really nice, though” said Harry, massaging Flossy’s back “And you’re here too, Sir.”

“Indeed. It is… enjoyable to be in a domestic setting.” Severus idly rubbed the scarred-over ridges where Flossie’s ears had once begun. Poor, dear old dog.

“Yes.” Harry said shyly “School is fun but it’s sort of nice being here, almost like it was at Uroborus, though…”

“Yes Harry” Severus said solicitously.

“Well, Draco’s really great and its fun doing kids stuff together but, at Uroborus, we… I sort of enjoyed spending time alone with you” Harry finished, flushing.

Severus smiled “Well, we have a whole afternoon together now.”

Harry beamed “I got an owl from Hagrid this morning, Sir: he said Hedwig’s eggs are all okay and he thinks that they might soon hatch.”

“That is good news, indeed, Harry and, with Flossie due to whelp any day now, we seem to have a very exciting Yule holiday.”

Harry stroked Flossie’s tummy, a tender look on his face “Flossie’s puppies are going to be happy, aren’t they, Sir? Mr Malfoy won’t let them go to people who would hurt them like what happened to Flossy?”

“I have it on very good authority that Mr Malfoy places a dormant curse on every family who buys one of his puppies. If they so much as hit the dog, he will be notified immediately.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a curse, Sir” said Harry, looking confused.

“You haven’t seen Mr Malfoy angry, Harry.” smirked Severus.

Harry giggled, gently carding the dog’s fur through his fingers, earning an approving gaze from Flossie’s large, brown eyes.

“What sort of home would you like to go to, if you were a puppy, Harry?”

Harry looked up with a thoughtful look in his green eyes “I think… although I like being here, with Draco and Mr and Mrs Malfoy… I don’t think I’d really feel comfortable with a brother who’d been there before me. Like Dudley was. And… well, Mrs Malfoy seems really nice but… Petunia used to seem nice to Piers and all of Dudley’s friends. She was only... Not that I think Mrs Malfoy is like that!” Harry said hurriedly, blushing “It’s just…”

“You find it hard to place total trust in women” said Severus gently “It is easy to understand.”

Harry nodded “I just think that I’d like a father all to myself. Someone I knew would never hurt me and who would know cool things and who would like me for me” the child finished wistfully.

“Someone like me, Harry?”

Harry cringed, his cheeks burning. Had he been that obvious?

“You see, I have been thinking and it seems to me that, as we wish to spend our holidays together, like father and son, it would not be a bad idea to become father and son legally.”

“You mean, like an adoption?” Harry asked, his heart and his eyes filling with hope.

“Yes, if you should wish.” Severus smiled “However, if you wish to remain a Ward of Hogwarts, you may.”

Harry beamed “I… I’d really like to… to be your son! I’ve always wished…” he stopped, treacherous tears blocking his throat.

“You can have as long as you need to think about it, maybe until the end of the Yule holidays…”

“No!” Harry twitched “Um, I’m sorry I interrupted you Sir.”

“Do not let it concern you, Harry. This is no common conversation after all.” Severus said with a smile.

“I want to. I don’t need time to decide” said Harry firmly.

Severus nodded. “Very well, Harry. I am… very pleased that you would choose this. Mr Malfoy has arranged an interview with someone from Wizarding Adoption Services this morning” Severus gave a wry smirk “I told him that we should wait until I knew your opinion but, it seems, Mr Malfoy has a fair amount of prescience.”

“What will happen during this interview, Sir” asked Harry, his fingers tracing the raised scar tissue of Flossie’s back.

“The Wizard or Witch, I do not know who it is, will ask me a few questions while you are out of the room and, then, you’ll be called into the room and I’ll leave so that you can answer your questions in privacy.”

“You don’t have to go, Sir. I don’t think they could ask me anything which I wouldn’t mind you hearing.”

Severus smiled “I appreciate that, Harry. However, it is W.A.S policy to interview the adopter and adoptee separately.”

“Okay. Um…”

“Yes Harry?”

“Can Flossie stay in the room with me?”

“Harry, Severus, I would like to introduce Mr Black” Mr Malfoy said, leading a tall, thin man with- yes- very black hair, tied in a smart ponytail, into the room.

Harry sat on the sofa, hugging Flossie. “Hello, Sir.”

Severus nodded from his place by the fire “Mr Black.”

“Good morning, Gentlemen.” The man’s grey, long-cut eyes glinted with amusement “A few pre-interview nerves, I see. Do not worry, I will make the process as painless as possible. Mr Snape, if you could accompany me to Mr Malfoy’s study?”

Severus nodded, patting Harry’s shoulder as he walked past. When the door had shut Harry sighed and looked into Flossie’s intelligent, brown eyes. This was going to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

oOoOo

“Take a seat, Severus.”

“Thank you Algernon. A first name basis, I see.”

Algernon Black grinned, pulling an attache case from the pocket of his navy robes “For the sake of decorum, I’m afraid, we have to pretend that we do not know each other. Rather ridiculous, seeing as any two pure-bloods will be second, third and forth cousins, at least, and, more often than not, attended Hogwarts together. However, it’s an endemic predicament.”

“Indeed.”

“I see young Mr Potter has quite an unfortunate history” said Algernon, unrolling the scroll detailing Harry’s wardship. “Very unfortunate, indeed.”

“Yes. I expect that, having had sight of all of his papers, I do not need to detail the abuse Harry endured?”

“No, I have seen your Witness Statements. However, I would like to know how you think your knowledge of Harry’s past has influenced your behaviour when dealing with him.” Algernon replied, pressing the tip of a blue quill to his lips before setting it on the open page of his notebook.

Severus looked solemn “In the first two weeks following Harry’s Wardship, I watched the child closely. He appeared very happy: he was settling well into Slytherin, being well liked by his colleagues and a particular favourite of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Moreover, Harry’s grades were very high and I was receiving favourable reports from his other teachers. Therefore, I allowed myself to feel complacent about his recovery and, regrettably, I turned my attention to my duties for the Order.”

Algernon nodded “Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your role. However, I am told that you have… retired as a spy?”

“Indeed. However, I am aware that my neglect of Harry is not excused by the above circumstances…”

“Severus, you are not the first Head of House to miss the signs, nor will you be the last.” Said Algernon firmly “I have been informed by certain Members of the Hogwarts Staff that, although they did notice a slight change in Harry’s demeanour and habits, they did not consider it worthwhile to alert you. It does not need to be explained to me that a shy child can descend into deep depression without it being outwardly apparent to their teachers and, as a Potions Master, Head of House and spy, you had many other calls upon your time. I assume that your first notice that Harry was not coping was on Halloween?”

“Yes, Rubeus Hagrid informed me that Harry seemed unhappy and had been missing meals.”

“Yes, half-breeds do tend to have a sort of animal instinct about these things, don’t they?”

Deigning not to comment, Severus continued “I questioned Harry’s closest friends, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini on Harry’s behaviour, explaining that I had cause for concern as to his general happiness. They informed me that Harry had been deteriorating since the third week of term, by almost imperceptible degrees. The Slytherins had not confided their fears because they hoped he would recover naturally and, moreover, the children did not want to inform on their housemate.”

Algernon shook his head “Too often the case, old chap. I imagine Harry had been too ashamed to reveal his past, poor child.”

“It was somewhat worse than that” Severus said sadly “He was convinced that his Aunt was correct in her view of him, that everyone at Hogwarts thought he was wicked and unnatural.”

“Hence the week at Uroborus?”

“Yes. Although, due to Harry’s early receipt of correspondence from his friends, we had an early breakthrough in disproving Harry’s belief that his House-mates desired estrangement, it was very difficult to convince the child that he was an innocent victim. I had to resort to using the Uroborus Pensieve.”

“Nasty stuff for a child to view.” Algernon said with a grimace.

“Harry had lived through worse and, unless he realised that abused children did not deserve to be abused, recovery would be improbable, if not impossible.” Severus said solemnly.

“Indeed, I quite understand. How did Harry react?”

“He was most upset: I gave him the Draft of Peace immediately and reminded him that Slytherin had, indeed, been rescued and grown up to be a very happy man.”

“Slytherin’s was the only memory you showed him?”

“Yes.” Severus replied softly “Harry responded well to the memory and what I revealed to him about his Aunt’s character… and my own history, he understood that he had been an innocent victim. At the present time, Harry has, I believe, fully accepted that he is a good child and that it was his aunt who was at fault.”

Algernon gave a slight smile “Very good. And your relationship with the boy now?”

“Harry and I have been meeting every Saturday for afternoon tea, on the premise of discussing riddles in the Exeter book: he has a fine logical mind and an aptitude for puzzles. Harry very much enjoys our conversations, as do I. Moreover, when Harry was injured by a stray bludger he… called me ‘Dad’ and told me he loved me." Severus said wistfully "I do not think that he remembered doing so. Harry was in considerable pain at the time.”

“You remained with Harry during his stay in the hospital wing?”

“Yes. He needed to keep up with his studies, as well as intensive physiotherapy and moral support."  

“Mmm… I have a very favourable report of your interaction with young Harry from Madam Poppy Pomfrey. It seems that Professor Dumbledore rather anticipated this adoption request and compiled a very comprehensive bundle. Very Slytherin of him, I must say.”

Severus nodded “Indeed, yesterday evening, I received a letter from the Headmaster, dated some months ago, endorsing my adoption of Harry.”

“Yes, we received our bundle of Witness Statements and assorted papers about that time." Algernon confided "Now, back to business, knowing Harry’s history as you do, how would you deal with disobedience?”

“As a Head of House, I have frequently been subject to children’s attempts to push their boundaries and, sadly, a number of these children have been subject to similar abuse. I think the most appropriate phrase is ‘hate the sin and love the sinner’; while I cannot condone bad behaviour, I attempt to clarify to the children that their behaviour was bad, not that they are bad in themselves. With Harry, I think it would be most appropriate to begin any admonitory interview with the foundations that, although he has transgressed, he is still loved and wanted and that he always will be.”

“Very good, and how would Harry be punished for his transgressions?”

“It would depend on their severity of the offence. I do not hold with physical punishments, nor washing children’s mouths with foul mixtures, which, in my opinion, is little better than torture, a mild form but torture nonetheless.” Severus grimaced “Discipline means ‘to teach’ and, I believe, hurting a child, even in the slightest degree, teaches them nothing but that those in power have a right to harm those who displease them, not a lesson which I would wish to teach, especially to a child with as much potentential as Harry.”

“Indeed. So, what methods would you use?” asked Algernon, stroking his beard.

“Impudence and ill-mannered behaviour would earn him an hour in his room to consider his behaviour and, if the degree of impudence warranted it, a reflective essay. Disobedience would have a similar outcome, although I would always require an essay detailing why Harry thought I had made the rule, why Harry had broken it and why he was foolish to do so. If the disobedience was flagrant and founded on no reason other than impudence, I would probably also ground Harry for a number of days.” Severus paused “The offense I would punish most severely would be bullying. That would result in immediate grounding, an essay and a written apology.”

“You are, of course, Harry’s teacher and his grades would, naturally, reflect upon you. How would you respond if Harry failed a subject?”

“All I require is that Harry tries his best.” Severus said firmly “I would never discipline Harry for something which is outside of his control and, if, despite his best efforts, he cannot excel at a subject or even attain competence, that is no fault of his own. I will, of course, aid Harry in his studies so that he can achieve his potential but, no, I do not expect him to be first in his year in every subject.”

“How would you react if Harry chose to withdraw his consent to the adoption?” Algernon asked.

Severus paused before replying “I would, naturally, be very dissapointed. However, outwardly, I would endeavour to behave as if the question of my adopting Harry had never arisen. Harry would always be welcome to holiday at Uroborus and visit me for Saturday afternoon tea, as is his wont, and I would treat him no differently.”

“Finally, I am aware that you were frequently a victim of James Potters’ bullying. Harry, I see, looks very similar to James.”

“He also bears some striking similarities to his mother, Lily, who was a very sweet, kind woman. However, my regard for Harry is based on his own merits, not those of his parents. He is an endearing, kind-hearted and very considerate boy.” Severus said resolutely.

“Very good. I can see no obstacle to progressing this to the next stage." said Algernon, snapping shut his notebook "Normally, I would have to consider whether, as an ex-spy, a child under your protection would be at risk from reprisals from current Death-eaters, however, as we are considering Harry Potter, I think it would be a case of closing the stable door once the hippogriff has flown. And both being half-bloods helps your case, somewhat; common cultural background, etcetera. I will go and speak to young Master Potter now. Best go and have a stiff drink, old chap. Calm your nerves” Algernon added with a wink.

“I am not sure that a member of the W.A.S. is supposed to advise on such points” Severus replied, standing up, his dark eyes glinting with humour.

“My dear Severus, I did not say it, just as you did reply.” Smirked Algernon, as he turned down the corridor to speak with Harry.

OoOoO

“Hello, Harry.” Algernon said, summoning an armchair so that he could sit opposite the nervous child “My name is Algie and I just need to talk to you about why you wish to be adopted by Professor Snape.”

“Okay” said Harry shyly.

“How do you get along with Professor Snape?”

Harry smiled “He’s really nice. At school, he’s got to behave like a teacher, so he just tells me when I’ve done well and helps me a bit when I need it, like the other Professors do. That’s good, though, because I wouldn’t want anyone to think he’s treating me special.”

“Indeed” Algernon said, nodding.

“But when we have afternoon tea he’s…” Harry blushed “He’s a bit like Uncle Vernon used to be. He asks me about my day and tells me interesting and useful things, like new spells and about Latin and stuff. It’s really cool. And, at Uroborus, Professor Snape and I cooked together and he taught me duelling. He said Uroborus was like being at school” Harry added quickly, fearing that he’d let the cat out of the bag.

“Do not concern yourself, Harry. At the beginning of half-term. Professor Snape applied for a permit for you to practice magic outside Hogwarts.” said Algernon gently.

“Oh, okay.”

“How did you and Professor Snape come to discuss the possibility of adoption?”

“Um, we were sitting with Flossie and I asked whether her puppies would go to homes where they’d be safe. Flossie’s first owner beat her and cut off her ears” Harry said earnestly.

“That is very sad.”

“Yeah, it’s horrible.” Harry cuddled Flossie’s long, boxy head “Well, um, Professor Snape asked me what type of home I’d like to go to if I were a puppy and… well… I knew I’d want Professor Snape to be my father. I’ve wanted it for ages but I didn’t want to say it! It would be dead embarrassing.”

“So what did you say?”

“I said I’d not want to go to a home like my last one, with a mother, father and another child. I… women kind of scare me and, if another child was there before me, it’d be like it was with Dudley. I just said I’d like to be with a single man who would never hurt me and who would love me for me.”

“You are aware, Harry, that Professor Snape is a young man still and he might marry someday?”

Harry looked worried, then thoughtful “I don’t think Professor Snape would ever marry anyone who hurts kids and, if something happened, I’d tell him because he has this magic potion, he gave it to my Aunt so she’d tell the truth. She was a real good liar, everyone else believed her.” Harry finished sadly.

“You said that you didn’t want to tell Professor Snape about your feelings, why was that?”

Harry blushed “Well, if Professor Snape hadn’t wanted me to be his son, it’d be dead awkward and, even if he said yes, I’d be worried that he just did it because he felt sorry or something.”

“Could you speak to Professor Snape if something was troubling you?”

“Yeah.” Harry replied nodding “Professor Snape… he always wants to know that I am happy and he notices when I’m not. Like the time I had this zit on the side of my nose. It was really bugging me because it was gross and Professor Snape must have seen I felt bad because he asked if I was okay and I said I was but he knew I wasn’t so he chatted to me some more and then, when I told him, he gave me some cream that made the zit go away.”

Algernon hid a smile behind his hand. “If you have a teacher as your father, it is almost inevitable that someone will accuse you of receiving favourable treatment.”

“Weasley already does that. He’s such a jerk.” Harry said with a sigh “But Professor Snape doesn’t treat anyone special. Okay, he’s sometimes a bit sharp with the Gryffs but they mess around in Potions, which is so dumb. Even a total idiot knows that ingredients can explode if you mix them up wrong.”

“Finally, Harry, why would you prefer to be Professor Snape’s son than a Ward of Hogwarts?”

“Because I could spend all my holidays with him” Harry said simply.

“Professor Snape has confirmed to me that you would be welcome at Uroborus regardless of whether this adoption takes place.” Algernon prompted.

Harry nodded “Um, I guess I just want him to be my dad. I’m not really sure why, I just do.”

Algernon smiled. “Well, I think I can make a decision. I’ll call in Professor Snape and then you can both sign the adoption papers.”

“Cool!” cried Harry, beaming in delight.

oOoOo

Harry gazed at the beautiful manuscript: it was written on heavy vellum, the curly black writing accented with gold.

Severus picked up a strange, transparent quill and, as he held it, it filled up with golden light, flecked with sparkling dots of aqua, pale yellow, brown, black, russet, turquoise, mustard, amber, pink and vermilion.

“Wow! What’s that, Professor?” Harry asked, awed.

“It is a binding quill.” said the Potions Master with a wry grin “The phrase ‘Sealed with one’s magic’ is no metaphor.”

“Is that your magic then?” Harry asked.

“Yes” replied Algernon “The flecks represent personality traits. The red means creativity, the blue-green is the sign of a healer, the brown indicates common sense, the green-blue and the reddish-brown both suggest someone who works hard, the pink shows affection, the orange-yellow means courage and the browny-yellow shows we have a true Slytherin.”

“Mr Black, who is a Slytherin himself, I might add, means manipulative.” the Potions Master said, with a wry smile.

“What about the pale yellow and black?” asked Harry.

“Pale yellow signifies a somewhat shy person, Harry” Professor Snape said gently “And the black… is a colour shared by people like you, Salazar and myself.”

“Oh!” Harry said sadly.

“However, today we are starting a different life, Harry, one which, I hope, will prove much happier than the last.” Severus said, placing a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Now, shall we sign this contract?”

Harry grinned, nodding. He really loved magic and it was rather difficult sometimes not to get carried away by his curiosity.

Severus picked up the parchment and read aloud “I Severus Tobias Snape, hereby swear that, from this point onwards and forever after, Harry James Potter will be as a son to me: my home is his home and I will, provide for him, protect him, comfort him and love him. Wholeheartedly I accept Harry James Potter as my son and heir. ”

Severus signed at the bottom of the paragraph, where there was a line for his signature. The ink sparkled against the parchment, glimmering like a rainbow.

Harry was handed the now empty pen, which filled with golden light. Amber, caramel, crimson, jade, pink, azure, violet and black motes glittered.

“Mine are a bit different, what does that green mean?”

“It means you are a good person” said Severus with a smile.

“And the pale blue and the pinky-purplish colour?”

“Modesty and sensitivity. And the slightly darker orangey-yellow means a positive change.” Severus explained.

“It knows?!” Harry gasped.

“It seems it does” Algernon said with a laugh.

“All right!” Harry scrawled his signature under ‘I, Harry James Potter, consent to Severus Tobias Snape having the rights of a father over me.”

Algernon took the pen “I just have to sign to say that I have witnessed you both signing of your own free will” there was the quick scratching of the pen “And here you go.”

The scroll glowed golden and then separated into three.

“One for you” Algernon handed a scroll to Severus, “One for you” Harry clasped his scroll to his chest, “And one for the records office. Now I’ll leave you to discuss what you’re going to call your father, Harry.” he said with a wink. “I’ll see myself out.”

Severus and Harry looked at each other, hesitating. Harry put down the scroll on the chair and smiled at Severus, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, not quite out for a hug but not exactly… not.

Algernon looked around the door at the awkward, uncomfortable pair and said “A hug is customary at this point.”

Harry giggled and, before either knew exactly who had made the first move, Harry was snug in his new father’s embrace and both were laughing to keep the tears at bay.

Algernon walked down the hallway to Lucius’s office humming to himself: while the people he met in his job differed, new families were ever the same.

“Draco! You’ll never guess! Professor Snape adopted me!” Harry cried, the moment Draco stepped out of the floo.

Draco gasped “What?!”

“Yeah!” said Harry, bouncing on his toes in delight. “He asked me this morning, then a man from the adoption agency asked us both loads of questions and we signed the certificate, it felt all tingly, and Professor Snape gave me a hug and now he’s my father!” Harry stopped, more because he was out of breath than out of news.

Madam Malfoy stepped out, holding aloft a covered tray of ice-cream sundaes. “Hello, Harry, I assume the meeting with Mr Black went well?”

“You knew, Mummy?” Draco gasped. The little boy grinned up at his smirking mother “I say, that was very Slytherin of you.”

“Professor Snape said, outside lessons, I can call him ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’ if I like but, if I find that difficult, I can still call him ‘Sir’.” Harry gabbled, high on adrenaline.

“Come on Cissa! This man needs a Fortescue Calvados sorbet” cried Lucius, walking in with an arm around Severus’ shoulders. Flossie waddled between them, her head pressed reassuringly against the side of Severus’s hip.

At that moment, a small, brown owl fluttered down the hall-way and landed on Harry’s shoulder, holding out it’s tiny leg and offering a thin scroll of photo-parchment.

Releasing the tiny owl of it’s burden, Harry unrolled the scroll; his eyes widened, sparkling like emeralds behind his glasses, and a rosy flush bloomed on his cheeks.

“Guess what!” Harry cried, holding out a moving photograph of three tiny owlets “I’ve become a Daddy and a Son in the same day!”

OoOoO

“Psst! Harry.”

“Hmm?”

“Reach your feet out.”

“Wha?”

“Stretch out your legs so your feet hit the bed end.”

“kay Draco... Huh! Wazzat?!”

“Presents! It’s Yule morning!” Draco grinned, bouncing out of bed.

oOoOo

“Have you boys had a successful morning?” Lucius asked, buttering a spicy fruit bun: another Malfoy Yule tradition.

“Oh yes, Daddy!” Draco chirped “I got the stocking fillers from you and Mummy, of course, and a brilliant book on poisonous snakes, Blaise, a box of Yule Edition chocolate frogs, Vin, a large tub of Roaring Dragon sweets, Greg, a book on Egyptian Alchemy, Theo, a bottle of 4711 cologne, Pansy, a box of biscuits, Daphne, a serpent-embroidered wand holster, Tracy, a tube of Bertie Bots Beans, Milly, a cool book on Quidditch, Neville, oh and Hermione found me this cool pendant that looks like Isis” Draco said, holding out a little cloisonné snake.

“Hermione… isn’t she the muggleborn” said Lucius. Severus sent him a look.

“Yeah, can we invite her to our Yule party? It’d be a shame if she’s the only Slyth in our year left out.”

“Why of course, Draco” smiled Narcissa, who was sporting a rather magnificent sapphire necklace.

“The Hogwarts tutors were pretty boring though” Draco continued blithely “They just got me books that they’d written: I think it’s a shame when presents are useful. Hagrid came up trumps though: look” Draco tugged a little whittled snake, obviously fashioned into a type of flute, from his pocket “If you blow into its tail, it hisses like Isis!”

“Did you have any nice surprises, Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry smiled “Yeah! I had loads of presents, more than… I just mean that I was surprised to get so many!”

“Harry, you didn’t get from anyone you didn’t give to” Draco said, sprinkling curls of dark chocolate over his buttered bread.

Harry blushed “Yeah, I guess. Well, I got the sweets and wizard models and exploding-snap cards and a soft-toy owl in my stocking from you, which was really a wonderful suprise because..." Harry hesitated: he didn't really want to say that it was his first stocking for years. 

"You're very welcome, Harry, I'm glad you liked them." Severus said kindly.

Harry blushed and nodded "I also got a snake whistle, from Hagrid, and Vin got me a box of paints, ‘cos I once said I enjoyed painting and Theo got me a book on Arabic Alchemy…”

Uh Oh thought Severus

“And Blaise, he gave me a big pot of new-formula Sleekezy, which I really wanted, and Greg got me a box of ginger chocoballs, Tracy gave me homemade biscuits too, Pansy gave me some violet creams, because I said I like them last time, Milly got me Bertie Bots Beans, Daphne, a wand-holster, Nev, a book on raising baby owls, Hermione bought me a snake pendant too and the teachers gave me books, like they did Draco. They look really fascinating.”

Severus smiled “I hope you’ll like your gift from me, too, Harry.”

“I’m sure I will Sir… um…” Harry blushed: why was one little word so difficult.

Severus smiled and patted the young boy’s hand sympathetically.

“Daddy! Are you really going to eat another bun! I want to unwrap presents!” Draco whined.

“Yes, Draco. However, Harry hasn’t finished eating yet, nor have your mother and Severus.” Lucius said patiently.

Draco sighed and whispered to Harry “Adults simply have no sense of priorities!”

oOoOo

“Snap!” Draco cried, unwrapping the snitch Harry had bought him.

Harry giggled, holding his own, fluttering snitch. “Open it and see what’s inside!”

“You mean… you put something in here too?”

“Wha…you did as well?!”

“Oh Odin!”

Harry and Draco held aloft two tiny broomtags.

“Harry Potter” the little blue and yellow ball python rasped metallically.

“Draco Malfoy” the tangerine and black striped snake croaked.

Lucius laughed “I can see you two are of one mind.”

“I didn’t see this in the shop” marvelled Harry, looking at the tiny snake.

“I had it altered for you; there was one that was almost right but for the colours” Draco explained “Thanks Harry!”

“Thanks Draco.” Harry beamed.

“And, now, boys, you need something to put them on” Lucius said, pulling two promisingly long parcels from behind the sofa.

A quick flurry of paper later; “Yes! Nimbus 2000! Thanks Dad! Thanks Mum!” Draco cried, jumping on the broom and soaring around the room.

"Thankfully, I took the precaution of casting geminio charms on the porcelain. The originals are in the attic" smirked Lucius, as a Ming vase wobbled precariously in Draco's wake.

“Th…thank you so much Mr and Mrs Malfoy!” Harry gasped, amazed at their kindness.

“You are very welcome, Harry!” smiled Mrs Malfoy.

“And here are my gifts to you, Harry and Draco” Severus held out two boxes. Draco skidded to a stop and quickly unwrapped the present.

“Oh wow, two way mirrors!” Draco grinned "Brilliant"

“They are, in fact, six way mirrors” Severus smiled “a rare set I discovered in an auction last year. If you share them out amongst your friends, you can stay in contact over the holidays.”

“These are fantastic, Sir” Harry beamed back at Draco's smiling reflection.

“You are welcome, Harry” smiled Severus, adjusting the new watch on his wrist.

oOoOo

“Wow! This looks fantastic Mrs Malfoy!” Harry said, admiring the lunch-table on a crisp, white tablecloth, crystal sparkled and silver shone. However, it was the glossy goose, tureens of nutmeggy sprouts, fragrant, crisp potatoes and sweet parsnips, acompanied by sauceboats of scarlet cranberry sauce, creamy breadsauce and shimmering brown gravy, which drew Harry’s and Draco’s eyes.

“Harry?” Severus held out an ornate, silver and green cracker. When Harry tugged on it, it went off like a cannon and a pirate’s hat sprang out, along with some chocoballs and a little silver chess set.

“Wow!” Harry beamed: magic never failed to fill him with delight and awe.

Severus smiled, gently plonking the Pirate hat on Harry’s head. “Happy Yule, Harry.”

"Happy Yule Ss... Dad!"

“Hello Hermione! You’re welcome! It looks really good on you.” Harry beamed.

“Thanks! Oh, hello Draco!”

“Hello Hermione, ah, I see you’re wearing the bracelet” Draco replied, indicating a substantial but not overly heavy charm bracelet peeping out of the sleeve of Hermione’s green dress robes.

“Yes, thanks, it’s gorgeous. And you are both wearing your snake pendants.” Hermione grinned.

“Harry! Draco!”

“Blaise, old man, how are you?”

“Not too bad. I hear that Theo gave you both books on Alchemy.” Blaise said with a significant look.

“Oh me too! Mine was about Oriental Alchemy!” piped up Hermione.

“And mine, Greek. Lucky we weren’t all staying over Christmas or Professor Snape would have definitely guessed something.” Blaise rolled his dark eyes.

“Hello, did you all like your books?” Theo asked, strolling over “I was really pleased with the spell books you all got me. And Draco, hey, great minds seem to think alike. With the, y’know, room, if we all apply ourselves to it, we’ll be able to crack the stone in no time!”

“Draco! Draco! Oh, there you all are” huffed Pansy, bustling up in frilly, bubble-gum pink dress robes. She covertly sniffed at Draco, then beamed “You’re wearing the cologne I gave you.”

“Yes, I… really appreciated it. Thank you” said Draco, who had been forced, practically at wand point, to dab some behind his ears. Narcissa and Mrs Parkinson drank tea together: it would be most embarrassing if her son appeared to slight Mrs Parkinson’s daughter’s gift.

Vin and Greg stumped over “Hello, how’re the holidays going?” Vin asked. “Thanks for the gifts, by the way.”

“Yeah, thanks” beamed Greg.

Draco grinned “Well, Harry celebrated Yule a bit early this year…”

"Oh?" asked Milly, who had just arrived "You celebrate it on the sixth, Harry?"

“Um, no Milly" Harry said, before adding in a whisper "Draco, you know we’re supposed to, y’know, wait for the announcement!”

“What announcement?” said Tracy, who had just entered with Daphne.

“Harry’s been adopted!”

“What?! By whom?” Pansy asked. “Not your parents..!”

“If Mother and Father chose to adopt Harry, I would be very pleased” Draco said sharply. “But someone else had a prior claim.”

“Professor Snape’s finally asked?” Blaise queried, grinning.

“Oh, Harry! Has he?” Hermione smiled, eyes bright with happiness.

“Yeah” Harry beamed “We signed the papers the day before Yule Eve.”

“Congrats, Harry!”

“I’m so pleased for you!”

“Congratulations!”

“That’s wonderful Harry!”

“I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thanks” Harry smiled “Don’t let on Draco told, though, we were supposed to wait ‘till… Dad announces it.”

Draco beamed at the Slyths “Look, there’s Neville, by the canapés. He’s looking lost so let’s go over and say ‘hello’.”

“He just wants to get into Professor Snape’s famous horseradish and beef gougères…” Blaise whispered to Harry with a wry grin “Draco ends up sick to the stomach after every party!”

Harry smiled in reminiscence: it had been… deeply satisfying, standing in the warm kitchen, piping the squidgy choux pastry into little balls, with his new Dad holding the heavy piping bag, talking to Harry in his ‘father voice’ and smiling. Whilst the little pastries were cooking, Harry and Severus had eaten horseradish, mustard and black pepper sandwiches (though Harry had fair amount cream added to his horseradish, while Severus didn’t dilute his at all, which was probably why Professor Dumbledore had given him such a gigantic pot.) It had been a lovely morning.

“Harry, come on!” Draco called, horseradish cream already smeared around his lips.

oOoOo

“It’s really nice of your parents to let us stay!” Hermione smiled, resting her arms on the base of her pink-and-purple sleeping bag, which was so overstuffed that it was rather like sleeping on a bouncy castle.

“Yeah” Blaise grinned, lying on his back, his arms behind his head “Good work, Draco.”

Draco smiled “Well, it’s been ages since we last had a slumber party. Such a shame that the other Slyths parents all planned to spend the last week of holiday abroad.”

“And that Neville’s Gran insisted he went home with her” sighed Theo “He’s a good sort.”

“I’m just grateful Old Parkinson didn’t allow Pansy to stay.” smiled Draco “She got me perfume!”

“4711 is, at least, y’know, it’s not that ponsy” Theo replied “I think Parkinson’s not going to be an easy nut to crack. I mean, Dad’s pretty… well, he’s not too open minded but he’s listening to Mr Malfoy.”

“Pansy couldn’t stay because I was here” Hermione asked in a small voice.

“And good riddance” Draco replied, thumping his turquoise sleeping bag into submission “We’d rather have you than her.”

“Besides, we want you here to discuss the stone” Theo added earnestly.

“Oh Theo, the passion of your poetry will quite undo fair Miss Hermione.” Blaise said in a breathy voice.

Hermione giggled “Don’t worry, Theo, I know what you meant” she said to the blushing boy.

Draco took his wand out of his night-robe pocket “Muffliato!”

“Draco! You can’t do magic outside of Hogwarts!” Hermione hissed, turning pale.

“Relax” Blaise said calmly “The Trace, which is what the Ministry use to keep track on underage magic, will also go off if anyone in a child's vicinity uses magic; as Draco's parents can legally cast magic, the Ministry'll just think it's them.”

“B…but my parents are muggles.” Hermione gasped, looking frightened.

“The Manor’s ‘proofed’ Hermione” Draco sighed “‘Proofed’ places, like the Ministry, St Mungos, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, etc, cancel out the Trace entirely. Great-grandfather, who was high up in the Ministry, did it sometime in the 1860s, when they started adding the Trace upon Hogwart’s Sorting.”

“What was that spell you used? Muffiliato? I haven’t heard of it before?” Theo queried.

“Muffliato. Oh, something of my Godfather’s, Harry’s new Dad’s, invention; prevents people from listening into conversations.” Draco said, smiling at Harry. Harry beamed back: his soul felt like it was infused with sunlight, warm and fragrant as a summer’s day. The pride in Professor… in his Dad’s voice when he called Harry his son, that special smile that was Harry’s alone, it was amazing. Harry wouldn’t have dared to hope, even in his wildest dreams, that he’d ever have a home again; a place where he felt wanted, like he really belonged. And now, well, he’d heard overheard comments about how his father seemed ‘a changed man’, that the once dour, restrained Professor had relaxed, grown confident and joyful and how it showed in his tone, expression and air. That Harry had not just gained happiness but actually given it, felt miraculous, wonderful. Just five months ago…

“Earth to Harry” giggled Hermione, waving a hand in front of his face.

Harry blushed “Sorry”

“Anyway, as I was saying” said Blaise, with a mock-stern look at Harry, was that, as the Secret Room appears to take us anywhere in Hogwarts, perhaps we could simply ask to be let out where the stone is hidden?”

Harry’s eyebrows shot into his hairline “That is a seriously good idea.”

“Mmm.” Blaise nodded “The only problem is that, if we get it wrong, we could end up in the same room as Fluffy.”

“So, Cerberus calming should be our first priority.” Theo said firmly. He didn’t want another close encounter of the three-headed kind.

“Well, Harry does have an invisibility cloak now. It was his dad’s.” Draco announced.

“Probably not very effective then, they tend to wear out quite quickly” said Theo “besides, a Cerberus could smell us out a mile off.”

Harry nodded “Professor Snape told me that Invisibility Cloaks are forbidden in Hogwarts, anyway. He’s going to be keeping it safe during term time.” Harry said, shrugging. At Draco’s outraged look he added “Come on, Draco, you can’t miss what you have never had.”

“Still, it’s jolly unsporting.” Draco sighed.

“I’ve read, I took out some classical literature from the town library, and I’ve read that Cerberuses can be calmed by music” Hermione added.

“Muggle writers?” Theo scoffed “what would they know about magical creatures?”

“Theo, you do realise that the classics were written at a time when muggle and magic lived in close proximity” drawled Blaise “It’s entirely possible that music is the trick, but magical society has forgotten about it because they don’t read ‘muggle’ texts.”

Draco nodded “We should do a bit more research, though. Hermione’s books could very well be right but I don’t really want to stake my life on it.”

Hermione nodded “Of course but it’s a start.”

“Good work” Harry grinned “I guess we’ll just have to wait until we get back to Hogwarts. Draco and I have looked through Mr Malfoy’s library but…”

“Cerberuses are a very rare breed” Draco finished. “So it’ll have to wait until we return to Hogwarts. Now, who is for a game of Mages and Maidens?”

Whilst Theo and Blaise sat down to chess, Harry, Hermione and Draco arranged the octagonal board. In deference to his eye colour, Harry got the green wizard.

They were half-way though their second game when, suddenly, the door banged open.

“Flossie’s about to whelp!” Mr Malfoy announced: his richly embroidered dress-robes had been replaced with a soft denim robe, with the sleeves rolled up, and his hair was tied back. Harry blinked; he had never seem Mr Malfoy looking so… un-stately.

“Finite! Are you sure, Dad?” Draco gasped “You said her temperature indicated that it’d be lunchtime tomorrow, at least!”

“Yes, she’s been in the first stage for about three hours.” Mr Malfoy said, beaconing frantically “Come on!”

The children raced across the hallway, down two flights of stairs and into the kitchen. Flossie was panting and lapping from a bowl of vanilla ice cream, which was being held at head-height by Professor Snape, who was stroking Flossie’s cheek.

“She started during the last half-hour of the Ball.” Mr Malfoy explained, kneeling next to Flossie and gently rubbing her back.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Draco demanded.

“You know it always takes around four hours before Flossie actually produces the pups, Draco” Mr Malfoy replied “I thought it best to allow you and your friends to enjoy your sleepover rather than sit down here, watching the poor dog pant.”

Draco led Harry, Blaise, Theo and Hermione to the bench that ran alongside the table. The children watched the dog with sympathetic and, in Hermione and Harry’s case, somewhat frightened eyes: Flossie was pacing, whining and digging about on her bed. Eventually, she settled down and started straining.

“Look!” whispered Theo suddenly, after twenty minutes had passed. He pointed to a bubble that had formed near Flossie’s rear. “The water sack. The first one’s nearly here!”

Flossie’s panting and shivering increased until there was a trickling sound as her water broke. Mr Malfoy stroked Flossie’s flanks and knelt behind her. The dog grunted and pushed and, finally, the bubble came out, followed by a cord and a slimy, meaty-looking thing. Mr Malfoy cradled the pup with one hand and pulled off the membrane covering it with the other, before rubbing the puppy vigorously with a soft towel and casting a charm on the umbilical cord to cut and tie it. Mr Malfoy then passed the pup to Professor Snape, announcing as he did so, “A male: a black one I believe.”

Hermione clutched at Draco’s hand, beaming. Draco grinned at the girl: birth was one of the greatest miracles of nature, a magic far surpassing any taught at Hogwarts and he was glad to be able to share it with his friends.

“Whatya goin’ to do next, snake-spawn’ get You-know-who as a godfather.” guffawed Seamus.

“Ignore them, Draco!” hissed Blaise, grabbing his friend’s wand hand.

“Oh look, Zabini and Malfoy are holding hands ‘Blaise and Draco up a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G” added Dean.

“Leave him alone, you lot.” said Neville sharply “I think its great Harry and Snape are happy and, if you don’t like it…”

“They can take it up with me” said a silky voice. Ron and Seamus flushed crimson, suddenly realising the stupidity of hassling Harry on the way to Potions.

“Inside. Now!” Professor Snape snapped.

The Gryffs ran for their desks whilst the Slytherin’s followed at a more leisurely pace. Harry grinned at his new father as he passed: his Dad had told him that, in Hogwarts, children of Professors, while not receiving preferential treatment, were not expected to call their parents ‘Sir’ or ‘professor’, though many chose to do so. (It had been a rule which Slytherin, in his usual obstinate way, had insisted upon, with the backing of Madam Hufflepuff: as Salazar firmly stated ‘I aym Faeder erst und Basilysk second.’) Therefore, if Harry slipped up and called Professor Snape ‘dad’, he knew that he didn’t need to feel embarrassed .

OoOoO

“Guess what, Harry” Hermione said smugly, as she sat down between Harry and Draco in the common room that evening.

Theo sighed “We’ve only discovered that the muggle book was right.” He whistled a few bars.

“Oh, do you have the book?” Blaise asked, looking pleased.

“No, it was, er… from the Restricted Section” Hermione whispered, blushing.

“The Restricted Section?” Harry gasped.

“Way to go Hermione!” Draco grinned.

“I didn’t actually mean to… I mean, Madam Pince was levitating a pile of books from the returns desk and this slim, grey volume fell off as she turned into the Restricted Section and I picked it up. I was going to give it back to her, I really was…”

“But the title was ‘Kerberos’!” Theo added “It was a fantastic piece of luck”

“It was Heracles autobiography” Hermione said quietly “Not the original, of course, but a faithful copy.”

“A blow by blow account” Theo enthused “He was the half-blood son of a wizard and a princess; Heracles was not only powerfully magical, he was really strong physically and he made his living by taming or, if that failed, killing magical creatures who were, you know, making a nuisance of themselves. He wrote it all down; the animals, their strengths, their weaknesses, habitats, the lot!”

"Sounds like Hagrid's long lost ancestor" grinned Blaise.

“Why didn’t you come and get us!” Draco demanded.

“Because we didn’t know how long we had before Pince noticed it was missing” explained Hermione.

“If we’d hung around, she could have taken the book off us before we’d learnt about the you-know-what.” Theo added “It was a near miss, anyhow; she summoned it and it flew right out of our hands.”

“Anyhow, Heracles explained how he tamed the you-know-what in his book” Hermione continued “It was his proudest achievement; he really liked dogs and, well…”

“Like Hagrid, he thought bigger equalled better” giggled Theo “Heracles bred the you-know-what with the orthrus, which was a female, two-headed version of the you-know-what and all the you-know-whats are descended from them.”

“Okay…” Harry said thoughtfully “Does anyone know how to play music?”

“I know how to play the double bass…” Theo grinned.

“And I know how to play the piano but it’s a bit daft trying to lug either of those into the you-know-what’s cave” Draco sighed “We’d be dead before we set up!”

“I’ve got a recorder” ventured Hermione “But I’m not very good.”

“What’s a recorder” Blaise asked.

“Oh, it’s a bit naff.” Hermione giggled “It’s this plastic pipe which we learnt to play in Primary school. I think I’ve still got all the pieces.”

Draco nodded “Well, get your parents to send it to you, you can borrow Strix if you like.”

“Okay” Hermione smiled “Thanks Draco!”

Harry grinned, Hagrid had told him that his little owlets were going from strength to strength and had even, to Harry’s delight, been able to slide into the nesting-box one of the six way mirrors. Hermione still didn’t know that one of the owls was meant for her but her obvious enjoyment in watching the baby owls had made Harry’s tummy fizz with pleasure.

oOoOo

Lucius sighed. The dark arts… so captivating, so empowering… Light Mages spoke of them as unholy yet, when one allowed the Darkness to infuse one’s soul, when one used one’s wand as a sword of retribution, burning in ones hand and one’s heart… A good person would never, could never know how it felt to close ones eyes as a mortal and open them as an angel. An angel of death.

Yet, Lucius was no longer a child; that confidence in his judgement, the feeling of his superiority, his right to choose who lived and who died had faded. At nineteen, everything had been so easy: muggles were poor, weak, stupid creatures, it took them nineteen weeks- nineteen- to heal a broken leg, whereas a mage could cure it in two. Tom Riddle had waxed lyrical about the benefits to muggles, should the statute of secrecy be overturned: surely it was inhumane to allow such a species to struggle on when they would be better off under the supervision of wizards, like other lesser creatures? However, now that Lucius had seen something of muggle culture… well, making pets of muggles now would rather be like watching a man pull himself up from the gutter to affluence and then insist on him being one’s swineherd. It seemed a little hard on them to step in now.

As for muggleborns diluting the power of Wizarding bloodlines, Lucius, despite his best efforts, had been unable to ignore how Magical some of these muggleborns were. That Evans girl, Harry’s mother, had been top of her year, for example. And, after all, none of them had realised that Riddle was only a half-blood. If a Malfoy had to admit fearing a half-blood, then he could jolly well concede muggleborns didn’t appear much weaker than purebloods.

And, of course, there was the fact that Lucius had not killed or even raised his wand against another for ten years. During the first war, Lucius had only been sent on political assassinations, rather than simple terrorism. Lucius was somewhat dark but not actually evil; he had standards and killing children and muggles, those too weak to defend themselves, was unacceptable and Riddle, to give him his due, had allocated Lucius's duties accordingly.

Now, as a father himself, Lucius wondered whether he could, now, kill another father, knowing that children would mourn the dead man as Draco would mourn him.

That was the crux of it. Draco. As much as Lucius loved Severus, he had not decided to defect for him, he had done it for his son and, now, it was time to relinquish the accoutrements of his misspent youth.

Lucius levitated the heavy stone lid off his baptismal, stepping back sharply as the fiery demons of the fiend-fyre leapt towards the high ceiling of his concealed room. With a treacherously heavy heart, Lucius levitated his little collection into the flame, sparing the books alone. It was not just his property that he was destroying; Lucius had been named as trustee by many of the Death-eaters now in Azkaban and, having ready access to their vaults, Lucius had no compunction of ridding them of anything which could be used against him or his family. Including money, to a number of charities' eternal gratitude.

Finally, he picked up a small diary and a cup; these two objects, the former entrusted to Lucius by Riddle and the latter found in Bella's vault, seemed immune to magic so Lucius physically threw them into the flames, shivering at the ghoulish shriek which sounded as they burnt.

oOoOo

“Strix is a lazy old feather-duster! Two days! Two whole days!”

“Sorry Draco” Hermione sighed, piling scrambled eggs onto her toast “Mum… she kind of likes owls and Strix is really cute.”

“Cute!”

“Draco” Blaise sighed “Strix is fluffy, bright-eyed and purrs when you touch him. I hate to break it to you, but he doesn’t exactly live up to his name. I bet he’s being fed fillet steak and having his tummy tickled.”

“At least you’ve got Isis” Harry nudged Draco.

“Yeah” Draco grinned ruefully.

“Hey!” cried Theo “There he is”

Strix skimmed over the children’s heads and held out a somewhat plumper-than-usual leg to Hermione, whilst casting ostentatious looks of interest at the bacon.

Hermione untied the light package and pulled out the recorder pieces and a few folded up sheets of recorder music and, of course, a letter.

“Let’s go!” squeaked Draco “We have 20 minutes before our first lesson!”

“Draco” Blaise sighed, feeding Strix his bacon rinds “we need at least two hours!”

“Not necessarily” Draco urged.

“I’ve got to relearn my recorder” said Hermione firmly “No, Draco. Saturday morning, and not a moment earlier.”

Draco stabbed viciously at his mushroom; why were women always so damn unsporting?

oOoOo

“Recorder?” asked Blaise.

“Check” said Hermione.

“Mirrors?”

“Check” replied Harry, Draco, Hermione and Theo.

“Water”

“Check” grinned Theo.

“Sweets”

“Kind of check” Draco gave a chocolaty grin.

“Sandwiches”

“Check” said Harry.

“Dashing, smart and heroic leader” asked Draco.

“Check” Grinned Blaise, pointing to himself.

“You wish” replied Draco, nudging him in the ribs “I was referring to myself.”

“Okay: we wish to be let out into the room where the philosopher’s stone has been hidden” Hermione intoned, scrunching up her eyes and bunching her fists, putting every atom of her resolution into the wish.

“Open the door Harry.” Blaise said.

Harry, who had nominated himself to venture out first, lest the Secret Room open into the Cerberus’s den, raised his wand, focused his magic and yanked open the door.

Everyone held their breath.

“It’s okay, there’s just this little room; all that’s in it is a mirror” Harry said, stepping over the threshold.

Blaise, Theo and Draco followed him: Hermione had been voted, three to one, to stay in the doorway, keeping the door into the ‘Secret Room’ open; closest to the door equalled furthest from danger and, although Hermione was a powerful witch, it was plain ungentlemagely to do otherwise.

By the time the other three were in the room, Harry had already walked over to examine the ancient mirror.

“Harry” Draco said in an exasperated voice “You do know how thick it is to look into a mirror which you don’t know anything about, don’t you? Some can suck your soul right out of your body.

“It’s just a plain old mirror.” Harry said, disappointment heavy in his voice “I think the room’s made a mistake.”

Draco sauntered up and did a double take “I… it shows me… I’m Minister… Dad’s clapping me and Mum, she looks so happy. And you’re there too Harry, and you Blaise and Theo and… Hermione?!” Draco blushed, stepping away quickly.

“What?” Harry asked, surprised.

Theo, who had been poking around the corners of the room walked up to the mirror and gazed into it’s depths “I’m… I look a lot older, like sixteen, and I’m standing in the Great Hall, in front of the Staff Table and Professor Dumbledore is handing me an award… Award for Academic Excellence. I’ve… I’ve invented a potion to cure Multiple Sclerosis! And my Nan… she can walk! She’s thanking me and her voice is clear again…” Theo looked at Harry, tears in his eyes.

“Maybe this mirror tells the future?”

“Draco…” said Blaise quietly.

“No, I mean, maybe not one hundred percent actually but the gist!”

“Draco, look at the inscription.” Blaise prompted.

“What?! It’s just nonsense. Some obscure language”

“You’ve got to read it from right to left, like Arabic: ‘I show not your face but your heart's desire.’

“What?! But how can that be? Harry just saw himself. He doesn’t desire himself!”

Hermione stared intently at the mirror, her face sad and serious “Blaise is right.”

Theo turned away, taking a gulping breath. “This was a stupid idea.”

“Yeah” Blaise said, walking over and placing a hand on Theo’s shoulder “Let’s go back.”

Hermione pulled the door open and stepped into the Secret Room “Oh!”

“Huh? What’s wr… oh!” the children had stepped into a rather different room, one laid out like a research lab. The bookshelves were lined with titles like ‘Murtlap and Myelin; an investigative essay’, ‘Healing Properties of Australian Plants’ and “The Nervous System: an introduction.’

“Well, there’s nothing to say what the Mirror showed can’t come true” Draco said, grabbing a book.

Blaise nodded as he climbed into bed “This month’s simply whizzed by!”

“Yeah. It’s been fun.” Harry sleepily replied, cuddling Reggie: the practically comatose python had challenged Isis to a race today and, even though the land-snake had no chance of beating a sea-snake in the water, he had given it his all.

“You and Professor Snape going away for half-term, Harry?”

“No, Dad said I should really use this half-term to get involved with some inter-house activities” Harry yawned “But he did tell me that, if I like, I could stay in his quarters for part or all of the week.”

“You going to?” asked Draco. Harry usually spent at least one night out of the seven, usually Saturday, sleeping in his father’s suite. Slytherin had designed the Basilisk’s Quarters to be a regular warren, with snug, comfortable little bed-chambers branching of the Master Bedroom. Harry loved staying with his new Dad; they cooked and ate supper together and, afterwards, played a game of chess, practiced spells or simply sat and talked. To Harry, whose Aunt had never allowed him to ask questions about his mother, hearing stories from Severus’s childhood never failed to delight him.

“Yeah, I expect so” grinned Harry.

“After all, we wouldn’t want the giant squid to get lonely” chuckled Blaise. Harry’s room, the water-chamber, had a ceiling which, like the Great Hall, had been enchanted to show what was above it. However, in this case it was the lake and the Squid always waved a friendly tentacle as it passed overhead, much to the other Slyth’s amusement.

“Haha” responded Harry. “Night, guys. Night Reggie.”

“Goodnight” Draco, Blaise and Theo responded.

“Night Harry” muttered Greg, who was already half-asleep.

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite” added Vin, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow.

oOoOo

It had not been a good year, thus far, for Peter Pettigrew.

He had chosen the Weasleys for one reason and one reason alone, and it certainly wasn’t the quality or quantity of food or care. Peter knew that Voldemort would, one day, return: the degradation of the dark-wizard’s looks and mind clearly indicated the creation of a horcrux. Thus, Peter had determined to keep tabs on the Potter boy, as a good cache of information would guarantee a welcome back into the fold. Naturally, Harry, son of James and Lily Potter, would be a Gryff and the Weasleys were as Gryffindor a family as any. Their last son, in particular, had shown all the bull-headed stupidity which, in the right light, could be seen as bravery and loyalty, and, thus, Peter had taken quite some pains to endear himself to the cack-handed twit, earning himself many a bruising and hungry night in the process.

And then the Potter boy had the sheer bloody audacity to end up amongst the Serpents!

This galling development made life rather difficult; sure, Peter picked up rumours, little factoids, sometimes useful, sometimes not, but he knew next to nothing about the Potter boy. In the Gryff dorms Harry was only spoken of as a twat, a prick and a slimy, brown-nosing, teacher’s pet, save for when the Longbottom boy lost patience. Yet words spoken in anger should, at best, be taken with a pinch of salt.

Time, however, was running short for Peter Pettigrew: the rumours were darker, the whispers more frequent and, one day, when Peter ventured into Ron’s school bag- a place no sensible creature would venture without dire need- he has smelt Voldemort on Quirell. The scent had been so powerful that Peter knew that they were one and the same.

There was nothing for it: if Peter wished to survive Voldemort’s return, he had to be useful and, to be useful, he had to find some dirt on Potter.

And to get dirt on Potter, Peter needed to find his way into the Slytherin Dorms. Therefore, that afternoon Peter Pettigrew had, again, stowed away, this time in a NEWT level Potions student’s book-bag and, on reaching the dungeons, had hopped out and, having scurried into a snug corner, waited for his opportunity. Eventually, a child left the Serpents’ Nest door open for one of his friends, who was a few steps tardy, and Peter slipped inside.

Creeping behind the dark wainscoting, under low, plush armchairs and around the thicket of children’s legs, Peter stalked out Harry bloody Potter. The boy was sitting with a boy whose moonlight blond hair clearly proclaimed him to be the son of that slippery bastard Malfoy, playing chess, as comfortable and relaxed as you please. Occasionally, a thin, coltish looking boy, whose hair fell in brown curtains, would lean over and mutter tips to Harry.

Peter smiled, revealing sharp, yellowed, chisel teeth. Nott and Malfoy’s brats really were friends with Potter, even inside Slytherin Dorms, hmm? Useful to know. After all, Malfoy was very, very rich so perhaps, for a fee, Peter would hold his tongue. Nott, on the other hand, would be a tender of good faith, an acceptable sacrifice to the Dark Lord’s insatiable bloodlust. Yes, Peter would do very well out of this information.

At around half-eight the common-room started to clear and Peter, fearing detection, returned to his snug crevasse behind the ancient wainscot. When Harry’s king was smashed by Malfoy’s bishop, the boys shook hands and, gathering their chess-pieces, wandered off to the first Dormitory to the left.

Peter settled down to wait; he’d give it an hour before venturing into the Dorm and, hopefully, by that time the little bastards would be blissfully asleep and totally unaware of the scratching as Peter bit and burrowed his way through the panelling, probably under one of the beds, to make himself a nice hidey hole.

Peter Pettigrew’s first mistake was that he hadn’t considered that Slytherins, while not stereotypically cat people, were most definitely snake people.

Lulled by the warmth of the roaring fires and soft, slow ticking of the clock, Peter slumbered until, finally, the clock struck one.

Scuttling over to the Dormitory door, Peter morphed into a human and, quietly unlatching the door, shrunk back into a rat.

Peter looked around the large, square room, his button eyes glinting with malevolent glee. He had made it. He was in the same room as the wretched brat who had, literally, ruined Peter’s hopes and even his life by destroying Voldemort mere hours after Peter had chosen to nail his dark colours to the mast. Peter had always loathed the snotty little brat when he was small; always mewling, shitting, spitting screaming. It had taken all Peter’s self possession to maintain the façade of a kindly, indulgent uncle, to coo and smile at Harry and pretend that he was not resisting the urge to smother the stinking creature with it’s own faeces. A death which, now, seemed rather too merciful to Peter, considering all he’d suffered because of the little wretch.

Overcome by curiosity, Peter padded towards the pillow upon which lay an unruly head of dark hair which could only belong to that arrogant poser James Potter’s son.

oOoOo

Reggie, having recharged his batteries after a nice long nap, was feeling rather peckish. It had been a good three days since his last mouse and, although his species were designed to gorge themselves once a week rather than eat every day, Reggie’s swimming-races against his bestest friend Isis had somewhat worn the lining off his stomach.

Yawning, the small python wriggled his way up Harry’s torso and looked at the child’s face, attempting to discern the tiniest sign that his young master was awake enough to justify Reggie hissing *“Are you sssleeping?”*

Alas, Harry was obviously sound asleep so, with a rumbling tummy, Reggie coiled up, telling himself that it would soon be dawn.

However, just as the young snake was drifting to sleep, the most delicious smell met his nostrils. Warm, gamey, fang-achingly yummy. The scent of rat.

Reggie opened his eyes: there it was, a plump, bright-eyed little rat with twitching whiskers- and a few short inches from Reggie’s grasp. Better yet, the little creature appeared not to have noticed him. Reggie opened his jaws in a wide grin: it had been too long since he last hunted live prey.

However, just as Reggie lunged for the rat, it changed, morphing into a plump, grubby man with sandy hair. This was Peter Pettigrew’s final and greatest mistake.

Reggie reared back in horror. A strange-smelling adult amongst the hatchings? Not good, not good at all.

*“COBRA! Cobra in the nest!”* the little serpent spat at the top of his voice. In her tank, Isis reared up, showing her needle-like fangs, and even little Sal, who was only an insect eater, started to squiggle his way across the floor to Harry’s aid.

Harry opened his eyes and jerked into a sitting position. The intensity of the malevolence, cruelty and hatred in the man’s small, watery eyes was overwhelming. For the first time in over six months, Harry gazed into the face of someone who wanted him dead.

A little known fact about Magic is that it is, to some small, yet significant degree, sentient. Not sentient like a human or a dog or even a trout but sentient as a plant is sentient: when we cut grass, we enjoy the fresh, verdant scent. From other plants' point of view, however, the chemicals released from the bleeding stems warn them to start looking small and unimportant.

Magic responds to the wizard’s emotions: a child cornered by an angry mob, for example, will fervently and desperately pray that they won’t get hurt. Their Magic may interpret this as ‘I want to get out of here’ and, therefore, will dissapperate the child to a safer location. On the other hand, it might merely vanish the weapons from the mob’s many hands, earning the child a swift and often deadly beating. Magic is not always very clever.

However, Magic is capable of learning. If a defence works once, it is remembered; stored in a memory without a mind.

One year, Harry had accompanied Vernon, Petunia and Dudley to a zoo. It had, in fact, been the first time Harry had spoken in Parseltongue and Dudley, amazed at the behaviour of the Boa Constrictor with whom Harry was conversing, had pushed Harry hard, causing him to fall and skin his knees. The magic infusing every atom of the boy’s being had thought it was under attack and, recognising the snake as a friend, had vanished the barrier between the Boa and Harry’s tormentor. Dudley, scared witless, had run away, leaving the magic victorious.

Now Harry was terrified, in mortal fear of this large, blond man whose vicious intent was clear in his beady eyes. Behind Peter, Isis raged in her tank, desperate to defend Reggie and his boy. Only the glass stood between the water-snake and Harry’s enemy.

And suddenly, it didn’t.

Released, the water in Isis’s tank gushed out in an enormous wave and, on the crest of this wave was a female Hydrophis Belcheri, whose friend’s heart-brother was in mortal danger.

There is but one way to deal with a cobra in the nest.

Isis bit down on Peter Pettigrew’s shoulder, releasing every drop of poison in her body and, having never bitten, the water snake’s reserves of deadly venom were full. Peter thrashed and screamed but Isis held on, biting, injecting, punishing this foul creature who had the audacity to threaten defenceless hatchlings. Reggie wound back, forming his body into a tight ‘S’ and sprang, latching onto Peter’s neck with his fangs, then coiling tightly, squeezing the life from the rat-man’s body. And little Sal bit and bit at Peter’s ankles, his blood singing the ancient ballad of vengeance fulfilled.

When Severus ran into the boy’s dorm seven-and-a-half minutes later, it was to find six terrified children, a very dead Peter Pettigrew and three jubilant serpents, who wore their enemy’s blood like a robe of state.

*“Killed bad rat-human! Can’t bite my Harry now! Sssqueezy CRUSHED!”*

“Sev! Sev! Please, it wasn’t Isis’s fault. That man! He was standing over Harry…"

“Dad! He changed from a rat into a man!”

*“Bitey, bitey. Cobra dead. Bad Cobra! Not hurt my two-legsss!”* sang Reggie, shimmying up Harry’s leg and torso to coil gently around his shoulders.

“Oh Gods, I feel sick!” moaned Greg, turning away from Peter’s purpled, swollen face.

“Daddy won’t let them kill her! She didn’t do anything wrong! She was protecting Harry!”

“Oww! Salazar Socrates Nott!” Theo cried: he had tried to pick up the tiny, excited snake, only to be bitten as Sal lunged again for Peter.

*“Ssssowwy Feoo! I’s just exthited!”*

“Draco! Doesn’t she need to be in the water?” Vin asked, worriedly.

*“Ssssilly Ssssal! Got to watch carefully as two-legsss alwaysss put handsss everywhere!”* psshed Isis, who was being squeezed by a tearful and terrified Draco.

“Sev! You can’t let them destroy her! You can’t!”

“Dad!”

“Please! Quiet!” cried Severus, putting one arm around Harry, who was now hiding his face in the side of his father’s waist, the other around Draco and his wand hand to transfigure a stray sock into a bowl for the nauseous Greg. “No, Draco, no one will hurt Isis. Calm down.”

Draco burst into tears, cuddling Isis’s little black, bullet-shaped head to his cheek.

*“Poor two-legsss! Do not ssshhss. Everything will be alright”*

“Draco.” Blaise said gently “Let’s put Isis back in her cage, she can’t be very comfortable.

“But there’s no water!”

“Draco, where is Isis’s carrying-tank?” Severus asked “She can stay there until I have time enough to repair her aquarium.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Draco sniffed, pulling the smaller tank out of his wardrobe and gently lowering his precious familiar into the self-cleaning water.

oOoOo

Severus would be the first to admit that he was not the most patient or tranquil of men (or, if not the first, definitely the second or possibly the third as berating the student who had pre-empted him might take a few moments.)

A combination of exhaustion, horror and a screaming headache did not sweeten his temper. Therefore, Severus felt fully justified in casting sonorous on himself and bellowing into the Headmaster’s chambers “Albus!”

After a flurry of cloth, the brief, pained cry of a foot on an upturned hairbrush and a swift pattering of slippers, Professor Dumbledore stuck his head through the floo.

“Good evening or, rather, good morning Severus. To what do I owe this very late pleasure?”

Severus rolled his dark eyes “Peter Pettigrew has just been found in my first year dormitory”

“Peter… but, Severus, he’s dead! Died ten years ago, November 1st, Sirius Black…”

“Yes and, as much as it pains me, no. Peter was alive, it seems, until he was perceived as a threat by these children’s snakes, who proceeded to dispatch him with Unspeakable precision.”

Albus’s blue eyes were comically wide in his candyfloss tangle of hair, moustache and beard.

“I have a group of very upset children here, Albus!” Severus growled, gesturing with his head towards Harry who was still hiding under his father’s arm “Wake up Minerva and let us step through.”

“Yes, yes indeed my dear boy.” replied the Headmaster, running his fingers through his beard “I will message her via patronus. Come through, children, do.”

oOoOo

Whilst Draco, Theo, Vin, Greg and Blaise ate ginger newts in the comforting presence of Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, on the premise that he wished to interview each student individually, led Harry, Reggie, Severus and Professor McGonagall into his private sitting-room; a comfortable little chamber with soft green walls, squidgy, comfortably worn armchairs and a crackling fire.

“Now, Harry” the Headmaster said gently, once Harry and Severus had sat down on the sofa “Could you please tell us what happened?”

“I was asleep and then Reggie and Isis started shouting about a cobra.” Harry said shakily “I woke up and there was this man, he was staring at me. He looked dead mean, like…”

“Yes, Harry?” Dumbledore coaxed.

“Like Aunt Petunia used!” Harry cried, pressing his fists into his eyes. Severus wrapped his arms around the quaking boy and, pressing his hollow cheek against Harry’s messy, dark hair, rocked his son soothingly.

Reggie, who had been coiling around Harry’s arm, started to ssshshh in distress. He couldn’t understand why his two-legs was upset; the bad cobra was dead.

Soft, deep hissing sounded from the corner of the room, and Reggie’s pyriform head swung towards a large, dark painting and he began hissing in earnest.

“Praeceptor Slytherin, quid agis?” the Headmaster inquired.

“The little snake is worried about Harry” Salazar replied in Latin “Kingy tells me that he and Goddess destroyed the rat-human and, as Harry is not hurt, Kingy cannot understand why he is upset. I explained to him that humans find it somewhat more difficult to relinquish fear than serpents, whom live almost completely in the here and now.”

“Rat-human?” Minerva asked.

“If you will excuse me, I will ask Kingy for his account of events.” Slytherin began to speak in parseltongue again. Harry shifted in his father’s arms, listening in horror to Reggie’s account of waking up to find a plump rat on Harry’s pillow, which, upon the python’s attempt to strike, turned into a ‘nasty-bad, kin-biting two-legsss’.

“And then the adjacent glass of Goddess’s tank vanished, the water gushed out and Goddess propelled herself forward, striking the dangerous one on the shoulder.” Salazar explained in Latin. “Kingy then sprang, coiling around the intruder’s neck but the man collapsed almost immediately. Oh, and the little snake Salazar also bit the intruder, who had, by that point, gone limp. Good familiars, serpents, loyal, brave and rather good in a melee. Yes indeed, whether they be small or large, Severus” the ancient wizard finished pointedly.

“Well” Dumbledore said finally “It appears we all owe an immense debt of gratitude to these three brave little snakes. I take it that Peter is still in the boys’ dormitory?”

“Yes Headmaster. I took the precaution of warding and locking the door, however. And placing Peter in a cage with sufficiently narrow bars.” Severus said, his eyes hard as chips of hematite.

“What are we to do with the children, Albus? The aurors will wish to cordon off the room, at least for the night.” McGonagall asked.

“They will stay in my quarters, I have rooms enough” Severus said firmly.

Albus smiled softly “My dear boy, one room would be sufficient: I doubt that your little serpents will wish to nest alone tonight.”

oOoOo

In Severus’s private sitting-room, several super-squidgy silk sleeping bags littered the floor, all, save three, filled by softly snoring children. In the carry tank, Isis and Reggie bathed their sore, aching muscles and nuzzled each other, their soft splashing combining with the crackling fire to form a soothing melody.

And, on the sofa, Harry, Severus and Draco slept: the young boy comfortably slouching sandwiched between his father and his best friend, dozing in the warm firelight and happily participating the morning, when, contrary to yesterdays’ expectations, they were all going home.

oOoOo

"Hello Albus, what can I do for you this fine February morning?" Minister Fudge asked, relaxing into his overstuffed armchair and picking up an exceptionally buttery crumpet.

Dumbledore took an elegant sip of his Earl Grey "Firstly, Cornelius you can release Mr Sirius Black into the care of St Mungos."

Purpling, the portly Minister for Magic spat crumbs over the ruby brocade of Dumbledore's robes. "Wha..."

"Cornelius, if I recall you said the largest piece of Peter Pettigrew that could be found was a finger. Well, it appears the rest of him has been found at Hogwarts by a couple of students' pets."

"He's... Peter Pettigrew has been found at Hogwarts?" gasped Fudge.

"Indeed. Mr Pettigrew, who, as it turns out, was an unregistered rat Animagus, was spying on young Harry Potter" Albus explained, his blue eyes twinkling "However, when he entered the Slytherin dormitories last night, under the guise of a rodent, I do not believe he was aware of the presence of Mr Potter's pet, a somewhat peckish python."

"The python ate him?" Fudge asked, flabbergasted.

"No, Mr Pettigrew morphed into his human form which, naturally, scared young Harry to the extent that his Magic released Mr Malfoy's snake, Isis, from her aquarium."

"Ah!" nodded Fudge "The poisonous bugger. Killed him, did she?"

"The student's familiars were somewhat vigourous in their defence of their masters." Albus replied with a wry smile.

"Naturally, naturally. No blame attaches. But how does all this relate to the release of Mr Black?" asked Cornelius, relaxing back into his chair and twiddling a button of his gold and claret striped waistcoat.

"Sirius Black was imprisoned, without a trial, on three counts" Albus explained wretchedly "firstly the murders of Pettigrew and several muggles, secondly on the charge of being a Deatheater and, thirdly, Breach of the Statute of Secrecy. Anger over the Potter's murders had, alas, robbed us of our objectivity: it did not occured to me that Sirius, who I believed to be Lily and James' secret-keeper, was innocent."

"Ah, yes. He did confess, however." Cornelius answered, a feeling of dread hovering in his stomach.

"Guilt is not always felt by the guilty alone, Cornelius." Albus said sadly "He may have simply have been blaming himself for not arriving in Godric's Hollow in time to aid his friends."

"You think Pettigrew did it, then? Informed on the Potters? He was a good friend of theirs, I recall."

Albus picked up a crumpet "I think that it would be high time to give Sirius the trial to which he is entitled by law. Starting, I think, with an interview under Veritiserum."

OoOoO

An hour or so later, at in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, as Harry was cutting his and Draco’s toast into fine ‘soldiers’ and Draco beheaded their boiled eggs, Professor Dumbledore stood up, saying “I would like to make a very special announcement”

The Hall fell silent: Hogwarts had a well developed grapevine and, as the first year boys had all suddenly decided to spend half-term with their parents, gossip was rife and people were suggesting anything from the return of You-Know-Who to Ron Weasley’s particular hope that the entire Slytherin first year had been expelled

“Today is a momentous day in Hogwarts history. Today, for the first time in 257 years, a familiar, or rather, familiars, will receive an award for Special Services to the School.” Dumbledore paused, smiling at the wide-eyed, enraptured students “Last night, an unregistered animagus managed to breach Hogwarts defences and enter the First Year Boy’s dorm in Slytherin. The intent of this animagus is unknown because, before he could harm the children, he was intercepted by three incredibly brave, loyal and resourceful pets, Isis, a water snake, Reggie a ball python and Sal, a garter snake, who protected their sleeping masters. Therefore, it is my great pleasure to announce that Isis, Reggie and Sal have been each awarded 50 points to Slytherin and an award for their great bravery. Please come here, Mr Nott, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy and accept these trophies on behalf of your familiars!”

Dumbledore cast the Geminio charm and the award replicated itself thrice. Draco, Harry and Theo, beaming in surprise and delight, hurried up to the Staff table and, after shaking the Headmaster’s hand, were given a replica of the golden shield, on which their pets' names were carved.

“Bloody slimy Slyths!” snarled Ron, as the upper years of Gryffindor politely applauded Draco, Harry and Theo.

“Oh be quiet, Ron! You’re just in a mood over Scabbers running off again” Neville said sharply. “Why don’t you ever give Harry a break!”

“Hi Draco” Harry said, smiling into his mirror.

“Hi Harry! How’s the holiday?”

“Just got back in from swimming!” Harry pointed to his damp, wayward hair

“Brrr! Rather you than me: must be cold enough to freeze the horn off a narwhale.”

“Nah! Dad’s got this cool water warming charm. Anyway, how’re you?”

“Dad’s hung Isis’ trophy in the long gallery” Draco beamed “Pride of place with all the other family trophies and, guess what, he’s commissioned an artist to paint me and her!”

“Cool!”

“Yeah, oh! and Dad said that, if you and Theo like, you can be in the portrait too! Theo says he will if you will.” Draco added with a wink.

“Oh, how’s Theo and Sal?”

“Great, though Theo’s dad’s been teasing him that Sal should be in Gryff!” Draco giggled.

“Bet Theo was well pleased about that” Harry chuckled. “Have you heard anything from the others? I caught Blaise this morning; apparently his mum’s insisting on him taking Balthazar, his anaconda to Hogwarts. Apparently it’s now bigger than he is: he got it when he was five!”

“Oh whoopee!” Draco drawled “He has to feed that thing whole chickens. Totally gross. Anyway, I’ve seen Hermione. She’s fine…”

“Harry” Severus called from the door “if we’re going to make the shops, we’ll have to leave soon!”

“Okay Dad!”

“Bye for now, Harry.” Draco said cheerfully, waving briefly before shutting his mirror.

Severus smiled, remembering how he and Lily had enjoyed using their little mirrors; during their second year they had spent the entire Easter holidays doing odd-jobs to buy a small, third-hand set. The mirrors had been cracked and the sound was tinny but the hours of pleasure they’d owed to them were innumerable: the similarities between the words ‘only’ and ‘lonely’ were more than mere coincidence, in Severus’s opinion, which is why he’d bought the rather expensive six-way mirrors for Harry and Draco.

“Dad! Draco’s having a portrait done with Isis and he wants me to be in it too!” Harry chattered, grabbing his coat from behind the door. “Do you think we’ll have time for a cream tea whilst we’re out? I really love the raspberry scones in Seaview Café.”

OoOoO

“He was pretending to be some kid’s pet? Oh Dad, that’s awful!” Harry said, licking jammy cream from his sticky fingers.

“Yes, that is the Headmaster’s opinion” Severus handed a crisp, linen napkin to Harry. “Professor Dumbledore has interviewed… one of the animagus’ former friends and, if the student’s description of their lost familiar matches with the animagus, our understanding of the situation will improve.”

“Poor kid… I’d be dead upset if Reggie turned out to be some dark animagus. ‘Specially as he sleeps in my bed and everything.”

“I think we can be quite sure that Reggie is a snake, Harry” smiled Severus. He had asked Salazar and, after a thorough laugh, the ancient wizard had told him that, if the serpents could speak Parseltongue, then they were definitely snakes.

“Um, Dad?”

“Yes Harry?”

“Er, you know how I’ve got three owlets and I’m going to give one to Nev and the other to Hermione?”

“Mmm” Severus replied, taking a sip of his tea.

“Well, d’you think that kid would like the third? I mean, they don’t have a pet any more and Hedwig’s owlets are definitely owls.”

Severus eyes were as warm as coals “I think that is a very kind offer, Harry. I’m very proud of you.”

Harry beamed. His dad was the best.

oOoOo

“Good evening, Mr and Mrs Weasley, young Master Weasley. Please take a seat.” Dumbledore said politely, indicating to the chairs set out around his desk.

“Good evening Headmaster. Now, you said you’d explain why we’re here when we got here…” started Molly, setting down her large, over-stuffed handbag.

“Yes, yes indeed my dear Molly.” Albus replied, steepling his fingers. “However, if I may, I would like to ask young Ronald a question before I explain?”

“He’s not in trouble, is he?” Molly asked, glaring at her son.

“No, no not at all. Mr Weasley, you have a rat familiar, Scabbers I believe?”

“Yeah?”

“Speak politely, Ronald!”

“Did your familiar, Master Weasley, have any distinguishing features?”

“Huh? Erm, well, he had a bit of his paw missing, Sir.” Ron replied, scratching his head.

“Which paw?”

“Er one of his front legs, the left, I think.”

“And, if you could hold up your hand, Ronald, which finger was missing.”

Looking considerably flustered and confused, Ron lowered his ring-finger.

Mr Weasley fiddled with his glasses “Albus, I appreciate your concern over Ron’s pet but I don’t understand…”

“Arthur, do you remember a young Wizard named Peter Pettigrew?”

“Pettigrew… yes, yes indeed. Who could forget?” Arthur replied, his blue eyes sad.

“Poor man!” sniffed Molly “Not very bright but a good heart.”

“As loath as I am to contradict you, Molly, it turns out that Peter Pettigrew was, in actual fact, in Voldemort’s pay.”

“No!”

“He staged his death” Albus continued solemnly “Peter was, in fact, an unregistered animagus and, after blowing up his surrounding area, he morphed into a rat and ran into the gutters.”

“The largest piece left was his finger” breathed Molly. “But, wait, that would mean poor Sirius…”

“Was innocent” the headmaster said heavily “Yes, indeed. Last Friday, Mr Pettigrew, who had been posing as a pet, decided to venture into the Slytherin dorms, where he was met by a hungry python. Peter, fatally, decided to return to his human shape, which the sleeping children’s familiars perceived to be a threat and responded accordingly.”

“A rat…” Ron said quietly.

“Yes, Mr Weasley. The finger Mr Pettigrew removed was, in fact, his left ring-finger.”

“Oh sweet Freya…” gasped Molly, paling.

“Indeed, Molly. No one is more horrified than I” said Albus quietly.

“But… Scabbers… He was just a rat. An ordinary rat!” Ron said tersely, his ears reddening.

“That may be the case” Albus levelly replied “However, until such time as Scabbers returns to you, it may be of some comfort to avail yourself of the offer of an owlet. One of your year-mates’ familiars has hatched three eggs and they have offered one to you, should you choose to accept it.”

“I don’t want one of Potter’s owls!” cried Ron, blushing maroon.

“Ronald, you aren’t too big for me to put you over my lap, young man!” Molly said, her brown eyes flashing.

“Mum!”

“Ron, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve been treating poor, young Harry dreadfully this past term. I didn’t bring you up to behave like this!”

“He’s a Slytherin!”

“That as may be, but he’s being very generous and thoughtful. You’d better pull your socks up, my boy!” snapped Molly, pulling on her gloves “If that is all, Headmaster, I think I will take this one home for the week.”

“Muuum! I told Seamus…”

“Well you can un-tell him. Come along Ron, Arthur.”

As Molly Weasley shepherded her menfolk outside, Albus relaxed back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He had a feeling that young Ronald Weasley would be accepting Harry’s ‘olive branch’ whether he liked it or not.

“Well, I didn’t know who it was when I offered, Dray.” Harry sighed, rubbing Reggie’s head and neck “And, well, okay, Weasley is a git but he’s just lost his pet. I’d be dead upset if anything happened to Reggie. Besides, I’m kind of tired of him being so nasty all the time. Perhaps, if I do something nice, Weasley might stop hassling us.”

“He has a point, Draco” Blaise said, looking over from his chess game against Hermione. “We did rather get off on the wrong side of the broom.”

“Wrong side of the broom?”

“It’s an old, y’know, saying.” replied Theo, who was struggling to keep the curious and excitable Sal on his lap “If you dismount from a broom with your back to someone, it’s rude. Back in the old days, when mages were really uptight, if a wizard snubbed you like that, you’d duel them.”

“Oh, yes I see” smiled Hermione, nodding "It's like muggles saying, 'getting off on the wrong foot', which is when two people, having got a bad first impression, aren't very friendly to each other and it kind of spirals downwards."

“Well Weasley started it!" Draco snapped "He’s been perfectly foul to us, Harry in particular, since the beginning.” Draco fiddled with the collar of his teal dress robes. “Can we take a break soon, Mr Selwyn?”

“You’ve only been sitting for twenty minutes, Draco” the elderly artist sighed, looking up from his easel “But, yes, I suppose we could break for a few minutes. Theodore, I have finished the painting of your Sal; perhaps you would like to put him in his carrying cage.

Theo grinned in relief “Thanks, Mr Selwyn.”

“You’ve just painted the snakes!” gasped Draco, walking around and looking at the portrait. “Why did we…”

“That’s enough, Draco. Your father did explain to you what this painting would entail” the artist said firmly, his golden eyes stern. “You needed to hold your familiars so as I could sketch your positions and I started on the snakes because sitting is harder for the poor beasties."

Draco pouted and looked away. Mr Selwyn, who had been one of his grandfather’s closest friends, was not a man he wished to test. When he had been five, his grandfather had been visiting Mr Selwyn and, whilst the adults were sipping elderflower wine in the garden, little Draco had wandered into the studio and messed around with what turned out to be a very rare and expensive porcelain model. The inevitable happened and Draco had been returned to his parents with a sore bottom, courtesy of Mr Selwyn’s slipper. Mr Malfoy had been outraged but his mother, who had known Mr Selwyn all her life, was rather less sympathetic.

“I still don’t see why Weasley should have one of your owls” he grumped, turning to Harry “I wouldn’t give him one of Flossie’s puppies. What if he hurts the owl. He might, he’s that much of a git.”

“Well, I could ask your Dad about that spell of his, the one that he uses to protect the puppies.” Harry said “And, you know, Fred and George are alright.”

“And Ron isn’t, that’s the point.” snapped Draco.

“I’ve always wondered whether Ron isn’t a bit, you know, jealous” said Hermione “He’s always worst to Harry, which is strange because…”

Blaise nodded “As Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy don’t get along, you’d think that Ron would go for Malfoy. I was talking to Fred once and said Ron thought Harry would be in Gryff. He was really excited, apparently.”

Theo, who had just placed Sal into his vivarium, rolled his eyes “That’s dumb, if you want someone to be your friend, you’re decent to them.”

Hermione smiled “A boy once put bubblegum in my hair. My friend, Miranda, said he was trying to get me to notice him.”

“Sound’s like a git” said Draco, sitting down between Harry and Theo with a thump.

“I feel kind of sorry for Weasley” said Harry sadly “I mean, if he’d hoped I’d be his friend…”

“He was only interested because you’re famous” Draco grumbled “What sort of friendship starts like that?”

“Besides, it’s his problem if he’s prejudiced towards Slyth.” Theo added.

“Yeah but I still feel kind of sorry for him. It’s not nice, feeling jealous. Or being hated by someone you want to like you.” Harry replied quietly.

“And Weasley has just lost his pet” added Hermione “Even though he’s not really very nice, he didn’t deserve that.”

“I’d be well relieved if it were me” said Theo, stretching. He stopped, his face concerned “Not that I’d want to get rid of Sal, he’s really great. I mean if my familiar was an animagus.”

“We understood, Theo” grinned Blaise, running a hand through his wavy, black hair. “I think Harry’s right and, besides, Draco, if Weasley really is as much of a dick as he seems, he’ll refuse it. After all, everyone in school knows that Harry Potter’s raising owlets.”

Harry grinned, blushing a little. He’d shown his photos of Hedwig’s nest to every kid, teacher and even ghost who looked tolerably interested. Fred had eventually joked that, if Harry wanted that picture permanently stuck to his head, he and George would be happy to oblige.

oOoOo

“And then Mum tried using butter, but that just made the bubblegum really slippery and, eventually, a hairdresser suggested coconut oil and it worked.” Hermione said with a smile.

“I’d have hexed the guy bald” sniffed Draco, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, I didn’t have my wand back then” shrugged Hermione “Besides, it’s better to turn the other cheek.”

“What, so they can slap that one too.” said Theo, winking.

Draco turned from watching Isis splashing with Reggie in her aquarium. “Hermione, one has to be realistic; if you don’t defend yourself, other people will simply take advantage.”

“Don’t gang up on the poor girl” Mr Selwyn said lightly “it so happens that, more often than not, kindness breeds kindness.”

“Yes” Blaise nodded “If you treat someone well, they’ll be more inclined to be nice to you, too.”

“Not always though” Harry said sadly, sighing. Reggie looked over, concerned; his two-legs’ sigh had sounded rather like a ssshhhss.

At that moment, Suvie popped into existence “Mr Selwyn, young Masters and Miss, Milady Malfoy is wondering whether yous being ready for lunch?”

“Yes, Suvie. We can break here.” Mr Selwyn replied, casting cleaning charms on his brushes.

oOoOo

“Severusssss”

“I am trying to finish my marking, Salazar.” Severus sighed, sitting up and resting his quill in the heavy silver inkwell.

“When are you going to introduce Harry to Hissy?” the portrait insisted “My heir is at Hogwarts. We both know that he will strike again!”

“I have warned the Headmaster, Salazar” snapped Severus “He has forbidden me to take action until we have proof.”

“Proof?! Proof! Dumbledore is an egg-eating fool! If I were still Headmaster, Quirell would already be in Hissy’s guts.”

Severus looked sour “I know. All I can do is ensure Harry is never alone.”

“You should allow Hissy to protect him or, at least, tell Goldilocks; he seems to have some venom in his fangs.” Slytherin’s face broke into a beatific smile “If you could have heard the hissing and spitting last week, oh, it was hilarious! Wonderful entertainment.”

“Lucius did rather take exception to Pettigrew being able to circumvent Hogwart’s security.” Severus said, his dark eyes glinting.

“He’s good value, very good value indeed.” smirked Salazar.

Smiling, Severus shook his head and picked up the quill to recommence marking.

“You know, Hissy can let himself out anywhere in the school. Got an entrance to the Room of Requirement in his Chamber.” Salazar said in a conversational tone.

Severus dropped his pen “What?”

“Oh, yes. No point in locking the poor old thing away from the action. However, do not fear, my Alumnus, the Room is keyed to ensure that only a Parselmouth can enter the Chamber of Secrets.”

Oh bloody brilliant.

Mrs Malfoy politely looked to Mr Selwyn for the answer.

“Yes, Draco, I can spare you half an hour" the old man said kindly. "I need to weave some charms into the canvas so I’ll do that whilst you youngsters play.”

Draco, observing his friends excited faces, beamed “Thanks!”

“These fish goujons are lovely, Harry” Hermione complimented.

Harry grinned “Dad and I went to the market real early this morning and he taught me how to choose a fish…”

“Dating tips are always useful” joked Blaise.

Harry giggled “And then we made them. They’re dead easy: you just cut the fish into strips, coat each in seasoned flour, Dad calls that ‘dredging’, dip them in egg then roll them in the breadcrumbs. It’s a bit messy but really fun.”

“I’ll warrant that half the fun’s in the mess” grinned Mr Selwyn, stroking his long moustache.

“Definitely” grinned Blaise “My mother and I often cook together and stuff like making ravioli and stuffing peppers are always the best.”

Hermione nodded “Yeah, we like making bread-and-butter pudding; it’s really squidgy and I always end up covered in butter and sugar but its great fun.”

“Bread-and-butter pudding?” queried Theo

“You lay buttered bread in a big, ceramic dish, then put on a layer of dried fruit and cinnamon, then another layer of bread and more fruit then a final layer of bread and then you pour over a home-made vanilla custard and bake it. It’s really nice”

“Why do we never do any cooking Mummy?” asked Draco.

Mrs Malfoy smiled uncomfortably “Well, we have House Elves, Draco”

“It sounds really fun though” sighed Theo “Like Potions but, obviously, better tasting. No offence, Harry.”

Harry grinned “Even Dad says potions taste bad, he was telling me once how sugar and honey tend to cause some ingredients to change slightly, making the whole potion useless.”

“It must be really expensive, having House-elves” said Hermione “Mummy has a woman in to clean on Fridays as both my parents work full time” she added by way of explanation.

“You don’t pay house-elves, Hermione” chuckled Draco

“They’re bound to serve certain families” added Theo, oblivious to Blaise’s oppressive glance.

“What?! You mean they’re like… slaves?” Hermione asked, her brown eyes wide and concerned.

“Hermione, dear, House-elves are no more slaves than, say, sheepdogs are enslaved” Mrs Malfoy smiled indulgently. “They are simple creatures and, were they to live in the wild, their lives would be very hard indeed.”

“Yeah” nodded Theo “Besides, they love serving Wizards. You should come down to the Hogwarts kitchens sometime; they positively bawl if you decide to make something yourself. Remember that time when you wanted to make up a bowl of yoghurt and fruit, Blaise?”

“But…”

“Mrs Malfoy, may we go and see the puppies now?” asked Blaise earnestly.

“Of course. Thank you Harry, for bringing your wonderful goujons.” Mrs Malfoy smiled. “Suvie, bring up the coffee, please.”

“Good girl, that Hermione” George Selwyn said, once the children had left the room “A fine, inquiring mind. I’m sure I’ve read something by a wizard named Granger, lived a while back, I recall...”

oOoOo

When Severus arrived at the Manor, that evening, Lucius, who had just returned from the Ministry, smiled and whispered that Severus should disillusion himself and follow him.

The Potions master entered the warm, snug kitchen to find that, whilst his son’s friends romped with the four chubby, boisterous puppies, Harry sat quietly beside a tiny, woolly coated pup, gently stroking its round, sweet head with a tender expression in his green-eyes.

“Do you accept bank-drafts?” chuckled Severus, smiling at the small dark-haired boy and the little, dark-furred pup.

“That dog's a shy little thing, the proverbial runt of the litter” whispered Lucius “They’ve been inseparable since Harry saw the poor creature sitting, by himself, in his basket.”

Severus nodded “Harry has a great deal of empathy.”

“If the boy would like him, we could look after the pup during the day and floo him over to you in the early evening” Lucius suggested kindly. “They seem rather taken with each other.”

The Potions Master sighed quietly “Come, Lucius, the children seem content for the moment. I need your advice.”

oOoOo

“I imagine this is about something more than the pup” Lucius said, sitting beside Severus on the sage-leather, study sofa and handing him a crystal glass of amber liquid.

“Indeed, you have seen the Evening Prophet, I presume?”

“I picked up a copy as I left London, Black has been released, I see.”

“Yes.” Severus replied, tightly.

Lucius looked at Severus with appraising silver eyes “The adoption was legally binding, Severus. Even if he is, indeed, Harry’s Godfather, any claim Sirius makes will not stand up in Court. In any case, Harry adores you.”

“When Black is released from St Mungos, he will wish to see Harry…”

“You fear that he will attempt to poison the child’s mind against you?”

“He turned Lily against me.” Severus said, his voice heavy.

Lucius put an arm around Severus’s shoulders “Lily was a sweet girl, Severus, but she had her faults. She lacked the proverbial Gryffindor loyalty.” Severus opened his mouth to disagree “No, Severus, listen! Had Narcissa tormented you, I certainly would not have married her, nor even counted her amongst my friends. Harry, however, is fiercely loyal. Draco tells me that your son will not have a word said against you.”

Severus swallowed looking away.

“You’ve been tormenting yourself all weekend, haven’t you, old chap.” Lucius sighed “You do not have to allow Black within fifty yards of Harry, if you so wish.”

“You know how it is at Hogwarts, Lucius, Harry will hear about Black being his Godfather almost the moment he steps past the school gates. I have not, I saw no need to burden Harry with the history between his father and myself…”

Lucius smiled kindly “Harry will think no less of you because you were bullied, I rather think he will care for you all the more.”

“He may feel that he is being disloyal to his real father… That James would prefer Black…” Severus said wretchedly.

“You are his real father, Sev: James died when Harry was but a child. While he cannot remember James, he knows you, relies upon you and loves you. He will not relinquish your relationship so easily.”

“Nevertheless…”

“Draco has indicated in many of his letters that Harry distains bullies” Lucius said firmly “He will, no doubt, be horrified that his father hurt you and very angry. It may even be a good idea, distasteful as it is, to emphasise that the adult James realised the error of his ways, turned over a new leaf, etcetera.”

“I informed Voldemort of the Prophesy.” Severus whispered “I have not told Harry, I…”

“You have done the right thing, Severus.” Lucius confirmed “To what purpose would it be to burden the child? It would be unkind to do so. Who else, but the Dark… Voldemort knows of this?”

“Albus Dumbledore, his brother Aberforth and Sybil Trelawney.”

“The Divination teacher?” Lucius enquired.

“Yes.”

“And Trelawney is the only one likely to talk… Leave it up to me, old friend.” Lucius said, patting Severus’s shoulder "And, you know, a new familiar might be just the thing to distract Harry from any boring old godfather" he added with a wink.

oOoOo

“So there’s this huge snake in a hidden room beneath Hogwarts?” Harry gasped, his eyes shining.

“Indeed.” Severus smiled affectionately at Harry. If not for the lingering feelings of dread, this would be the most perfect evening: over the sea, the sun was setting, striping the sky with purple, pink and orange, the mouth-watering scent of cottage pie wafted out of the kitchen window and he was with his wonderful son.

“Cool.” Harry grinned “And Salazar wants to give it to me? A real basilisk! Draco’s going to be well jealous.” he added with a giggle.

“That as may be, I would like you to keep your new familiar an absolute secret, for now.”

“You mean, not tell anyone” Harry asked, tracing the outline of a snake in the semi-damp sand with his toe.

“Yes, Harry. It must be an absolute secret.” Severus said firmly.

“Okay. Um, dad, basilisks can kill with their eyes, right?”

Severus nodded “Basilisks are, quite possibly, the most intelligent creatures that have ever existed; it is said that the God Thoth granted his infinite wisdom to the first Basilisk, whom, of all creatures, could, alone, withstand omniscience. Basilisks also have a natural talent for Legilimancy and, if they have eye-contact, they can transfer their knowledge, which invariably has deadly results.”

“The basilisk kills by over-loading people’s brains?” Harry asked, bemused “That’s too weird!”

Severus chucled ruefully “It is usually shock with kills them: humans were not intended to know so much. The basilisk can even legilimise if one meets it’s gaze through a mirror, albeit to a lesser extent, so it is best to not test it.”

“So, if the Basilisk doesn’t want to kill, you can look into its eyes?” Harry asked.

“Yes, although they tend to keep their eyes shut, out of courtesy.”

“Wow. And Salazar’s basilisk is friendly, right?”

“Apparently he is eagerly awaiting your arrival.” Severus smiled “He has consented to being bound for life as your familiar. This will enable Hissy to read your thoughts, even at a great distance”

“Cool! So, if I ever needed him, he would know.” Harry grinned, then he noticed his father’s concerned expression. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

“The binding, it is ancient magic, Harry. Blood magic.” Severus said heavily.

“Oh! You mean you need some of my blood?” Harry asked, unconcerned.

Severus sighed “Salazar informed me that, when they bound their souls, ‘Hissy’ drank a small bowl of Salazar’s blood, mixed with salt and Nile-water, then released his venom into another bowl, which Salazar mixed with salted water and drank.”

“He drank poison?” Harry gasped, his green eyes round as saucers.

“Apparently, the Basilisk’s poison cannot harm any whose magic has cleaved to his soul.” Severus said, grimacing “Once Hissy has absorbed your blood, you will be as immune to his venom as he is.”

“Well, it didn’t hurt Salazar, did it, Dad?” Harry asked.

“No, Harry. However, I am uncomfortable with the prospect of you imbibing a deadly poison.”

Harry rested his head against his father’s arm “The binding does seem like a good idea, Dad. Salazar wouldn’t lie to us, would he?”

“What is this place” Harry gasped, looking around at the ancient, dusty and very obviously gnawed furniture.

“The den of a werewolf, Harry.”

“A werewolf!”

“Yes, but uninhabited for many years. Come.”

Severus led Harry through the narrow passage way and, having deactivated the whomping willow, across the starlit Hogwarts grounds and before a very large, ugly gargoyle, who, on seeing Severus, leapt aside to reveal a secret entrance to the school.”

“It is keyed to only permit Hogwarts staff entry, Harry.” The Potions Master chuckled, noticing Harry’s all-too-interested gaze.

Preferring to avoid introducing his young son to the wonders of the Room of Requirement or, as the teachers thought of it, “please-the-gods-let-it-remain-a-secret”, Severus led Harry up to a girl’s bathroom on the second floor.

“The entrance is in the girls loo?” Harry asked, giggling.

“Indeed. The founders appear to have been of the belief that girls were rather more… steady than boys and were, therefore, less likely to go on hair-brained adventures.”

Harry nodded “Yeah, I guess.”

“What are you doing in here!” a female voice snapped. To Harry’s surprise, the shade of a young girl shimmered through a lavatory door. She glared at him from behind her thick glasses.

“Myrtle.” Severus said, closing the door.

“Oh, you’re with one of the teachers.” said the girl, irritably batting one of her heavy bunches behind her shoulder “Why are you both here. It’s well past his curfew, you know!”

“Indeed, Myrtle. However, we are on important business.” Severus said firmly “Please could you tell me which sink does not work?”

“Oh? Well, that one there, if you must know.” Myrtle said, pointing to one in the far corner. “Why do you want to know?”

“Thank you, Myrtle.” The Potions Master said in his most final tone.

“Oh, I see! Well, I’ll be going then” said the ghost, sticking her nose in the air and flouncing into her cubicle.

Harry grinned at Severus and walked over to the sink, examining it minutely.

“Hey, Dad, look!” the child said excitedly, pointing to a tiny snake carved into the tap.

“Well done, Harry” Severus smiled.

*“Open, pleassse”*

The tap glowed and began to spin and, slowly, with a ceramic grinding, the basin moved, sinking down and into the wall, leaving exposed a long, smooth pipe, big enough to fit a fully grown man.

“Wow!” grinned Harry.

“I’m going down first, Harry” Severus said firmly “Salazar told me that this entrance was installed sometime in the 1780s by one of his distant relatives, as a short cut. I think it would be prudent if I checked that it is safe for a child.”

“Okay dad.”

Severus carefully lowered himself into the pipe and let go.

It took all of Severus’ presence of mind to acknowledge that stern, mature Potions Masters were not supposed to shout ‘Wheee!”

oOoOo

“This place is awesome, Dad” beamed Harry, staring up at the beautiful sculptures of snakes which lined the tubular stone passage-way. “Look, every one has different stones set into its eyes and, oh look, they each have names carved onto their bases.”

*“Hello Harry hatching, yesss, those sssstatuessss commemorate each of my heirsss.”* Salazar’s statue said, its stone lips creasing into a smile.

*“It… your sssstatue can talk!”*

*“Yessss I do not usually linger here, however. Rather boring. I ssssometimessss come down to talk to Hissssy. There is one for you, you know, a ssserpent ssstatue, I mean. I will sssshow you after the ceremony.”*

“Harry” Severus called.

Harry turned to see that Severus had finished setting up the table, which had been un-shrunk and set with two small copper bowls, with pentigrams on their bases, a silver flagon of Nile water and a little gold dish of sea salt crystals.

“I’m ready, Dad” Harry smiled, holding out his hand.

Severus nodded and picked up a small pot of numbing salve, which he rubbed into Harry’s arm. Whilst Severus carefully slid a needle into Harry’s vein, Salazar called Hissy into the chamber.

“I wonder where the Basilisk is?” Harry said, watching Severus decant the blood into a copper bowl and mix in the salt and water.

There was a hiss as loud as a steam engine *“Behind you, Harry hatching”*

Harry spun round to face an absolutely enormous snake, with shiny, ebony scales bigger than dinner plates and a beautiful, pyriform head the size of a small car. Hissy's black and sapphire striped body was coiled tightly around Slytherin’s statue and, thus, despite his huge size, did not take up very much space

*“Oh Wow”* Harry gasped, smiling up at his father who had darted forward and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders *“You’re magnificent”*

The basilisk chuckled like a foghorn *“I am a basilisk, monarch amongst sssserpent-kind; one doesss not gain ssssuch a title by being sssssssmall and unimposssssing.”*

“What is he saying, Harry” Severus asked nervously.

“Oh, I just said he was magnificent and he told me that he was a king-snake and so he had to be imposing.”

“I think it would be a good idea to ask him if he wishes to begin the binding ceremony” said the Potions Master, forcing his voice to remain calm.

*“Your unblood-father isss frightened”* hissed the Basilisk *“He fearssss for hissss hatchling. How sssssweet. How ssssweet. He doessss not need to fear; I do not eat children, only egg-eating men with biting metal.”*

Harry nodded and, reaching forward, gently stroked the basilisk’s nose. Hissy chuckled *“Good hatchling. We will be long-bonded. Bring me the bowl pleasssse. I do not have handssessss”*

Harry picked up the copper bowl and approached the giant snake. Severus gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain quiet: for the binding to work, Harry had to administer the potion.

*“Carefully, little hatchling. Do not touch my fangsssss”* Hissy opened his mouth, revealing fangs as long as swords.

Kneeling down, Harry reached out and tipped the bowl onto Hissy’s blue tongue.

*“Sssstep back, now, Harry”* advised Salazar.

*“Your magic tastes sweet, pure and clean like the flesh of a young deer”* Hissy psshed softly. *“Bring the other bowl, hatchling of mine; fill it with water and essence of sea”*

“Dad, could you put the salt and water in the other bowl, please?” Harry asked, slightly nervous, himself, now. Although he instinctively trusted the basilisk, who seemed gentle and friendly, his blood was pounding in his veins.

Severus strode up beside Harry and pressed the bowl into his hand. “Here, son.”

“Love you, Daddy.” Harry said, his eyes suddenly filling with tears.

“I love you too, Harry.” Severus whispered, embracing the small boy and holding him tightly.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled himself away from his father’s arms and held the copper bowl out to the basilisk.

*“Do not fear, child. I have done thisss ssssseveral hundred timesssss. It isssss quite sssssssssafe” hissed the serpent kindly. He opened his huge mouth and carefully positioned one huge fang over the bowl. A single large drop of venom shone in the candle-light before plopping into the water, turning the mixture a beautiful, brilliant gold.

Harry smiled at his father and raised the bowl to his lips, taking a long sip.

And, clutching at his forehead, collapsed with a harsh, agonised scream.

*“The evil one!”* gasped the Hissy, rearing in horrified fear.

On hearing the loud, sharp hiss, Severus spun around, white-faced and terrified, to gaze into the Basilisk’s beautiful, green eyes.

Images assaulted Severus' brain: a medieval wizard pouring a golden liquid onto a child’s forehead which, like Harry’s, bore a lightning shaped scar, the binding ceremony, repeated countless times with various wizards and witches, a cruel-eyed boy casting the imperius curse on the furious and desperate basilisk, a small, scruffy diary, around which evil hung in a grey-orange cloud and, finally, Harry’s scar, glowing the same grey-orange, which bled into the shade of the cruel-eyed boy, leaving Harry’s forehead clean.

*“Horcrux!”* The basilisk cried in horror. *“The evil one’s Horcrux!”*

*“What!”* Severus gasped. He felt giddy, nauseous and faint. Understanding Parseltongue was one thing too many.

*“The scar was a horcrux.”* the basilisk insisted. His beautiful green eyes fell upon Harry *“The child breathes but he is going into shock.”*

*“The infirmary, Severus.”* Salazar cried *“Behind the first statue: touch it’s snout and you will enter the Room of Requirement. Ask for the infirmary. Go!”*

oOoOo

“Poppy!” Severus cried, bursting into Madam Pomfrey’s office through a door which materialised and disappeared in the second it took for the Potions Master to leap into the room.

“Severus!” the Mediwitch cried, her hand flying to her chest “Oh, no! Harry!”

“He’s going into shock! There was a Horcrux, a horcrux in his scar!”

Poppy pushed the trembling man into a chair: her medical training at St Mungos had taught her two things 1. act first and ask questions later and 2. don’t waste time prying a child out of their parent’s arms.

After casting a quick diagnostic, Poppy, summoned a potion, which she spelled into Harry’s stomach and cast rennervate.

With a soft whimper, Harry blinked open his eyes “Dad… I feel funny.”

Severus, his dark eyes wild, swallowed convulsively “Is he out of danger?”

Galen snaked out of Poppy’s wand and gently coiled around Harry. He turned to Severus and hissed *“His body is complete, his mind is complete but his soul has been torn asunder… yet one hundred percent of it remains.”* he finished in a puzzled voice.

*“The basilisk spoke of Horcruxes?”* Severus said absently, shifting Harry so the tired child’s head could rest more comfortably on his shoulder.

Galen’s smoky tongue rolled out of his mouth in shock *“Horcrux!*”

“I… I didn’t know you could speak Parseltongue, Severus!” Poppy stammered.

“I can’t! I mean I couldn’t…” Severus sighed, clutching Harry tightly “Please, Poppy, could you floo Albus? We have much to discuss.”

oOoOo

As Harry slept in the Hospital Wing, Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Madam Pomfey convened in the Mediwitch’s Office.

“Salazar Slytherin suggested that I allow Harry to complete the bonding ceremony with his Basilisk” Severus explained wretchedly “The benefits were innumerable. The basilisk, Hissy, will protect Harry whilst he is within Hogwarts; apparently basilisks have such acute hearing he is privy to everything that happens within these walls and… well Slytherin gave him direct access to the you-know-what.”

Poppy’s face paled but Dumbledore merely looked puzzled “The ‘you know what’, dear boy?”

“The Room of Requirement!” Severus frowned at the Headmaster’s bemused expression “On the seventh floor, Albus! The room which can alter its shape, furnish itself with any object in Hogwarts and…”

“Open into any part of the castle!” Poppy murmured, aghast. “A basilisk roaming the school, amongst the children for Asclepius knows how long!”

“And I always thought he used the pipes…” Albus said, looking rather shell shocked.

“The basilisk has a doorway to this room in his Chamber, if Harry needed him, he can be at his side within seconds. Harry, we all know what enemies he faces. Even at school he is not safe... the bludger for example. The basilisk is powerful enough to defend him and will know, immediately, if he is in need.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened comically “Indeed, dear boy. Well, well…” he murmured, stroking his beard.

“Sweet Asclepius, Severus! This... this thing has killed before! Little Myrtle Henderson! It’s not safe!”

“That is the second reason for the binding, Poppy” Severus said firmly “Harry’s magic would safeguard the basilisk from the Dark… from Voldemort’s enchantments. Fifty or so years ago, Voldemort imperiused Hissy, forcing him to submit to his will and kill for him.”

“Wha… The Heir was Voldemort!” Poppy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Indeed” Albus nodded sadly “I suspected as much. Tom Riddle, as he was then known.”

“Salazar explained that he was absent during the first and only opening of the Chamber by Riddle, which was when Myrtle died.” Severus explained “All the basilisk could tell him was a vague description of a strong, dark-haired boy, so, when Salazar saw Hagrid accused of the crime…”

“He did not realise that we had expelled the wrong boy” Albus said heavily. “I suppose that he recognised his heir when he learnt that Voldemort was a parselmouth.”

“Yes” Severus agreed “This is why the binding ceremony was essential; if the basilisk is Harry’s familiar, Voldemort will never be able to control him again.”

Albus nodded and Severus continued “Finally, Hissy’s venom would grant Harry immunity from most poisons.” The Potions Master sighed “I do not find blood magic the most salubrious of disciplines but, here, it seemed the latter of two evils.”

“There is nothing wrong, per se, with blood magic, Severus” Albus asked gently, a smidgen of hurt in his voice. “But why did you not come to me for advice?”

Severus looked up, a rueful expression on his face “I knew that you would dissuade me. You… you were a Head of Year during the 1940’s, you helped carry Myrtle’s corpse from the bathroom…”

Albus nodded “Yes, Severus. I accept I would have been somewhat concerned about taking young Harry into the basilisk’s lair. The creature was friendly, however?”

“Yes” the Potions Master sighed “Hissy’s behaviour was gentle and unthreatening; he reassured Harry and my son seemed totally at ease with him. Indeed, the ceremony proceeded uneventfully until Harry drank the binding potion.”

“Whence he screamed and fainted, I understand?”

“Yes” Severus whispered “His face… Harry went as pale as death, his scar split open and a shadow, a human shaped shadow spilled out. For a moment I…” he stopped, his voice choked with emotion.

Albus put a wrinkled hand on Severus’s trembling shoulder “Of course, my boy. Such a fear is natural. However, it was unfounded. Harry is safe.”

Severus swallowed and looked up, his eyes unusually bright “The basilisk hissed loudly and I turned around, thinking it intended to strike. I looked into his eyes and I saw another child, with a scar like Harry’s, being treated with the same potion. There was also a book, it has a grey-orange halo and, in the basilisk’s eyes, Harry’s scar had that same aura. The basilisk called it a horcrux.”

“A horcrux” Albus whispered, his face turning ashen.

"I can only imagine he didn’t recognise whatever it is before because, previously, Hissy had his eyes shut." Severus said solemnly "The shadow… the basilisk said it was Voldemort!”

Albus swallowed and raised a shaky hand to his beard “My dear boy… The shadow was a shard of Voldemort’s soul. Harry was a horcrux!”

“You know of these things, Albus?” Severus demanded.

“Indeed, indeed. If a mage splits their soul, it can only be done by murder” Albus rambled “Then they can enclose that shard of soul in an object, a horcrux. This means that, if the mage dies, their soul will be bound to the earth, therefore making resurrection possible.”

“Voldemort bound his life to Harry’s” Severus cried, his eyes wild.

“Hush, Severus. The piece of Voldemort’s soul has been killed” Albus replied, excitedly “You saw it’s passing; basilisk venom is one of the few sure ways in which a horcrux can be destroyed. The binding potion, to which Harry was immune, severed the connection between his soul and Voldemorts!”

Severus slumped forward, cupping his face in his hands.

“Galen, my familiar told me as such” whispered Poppy, her voice choked with emotion. She held out a sheet of parchment “Harry’s body and mind are complete, it says, but his soul is torn yet he’s retained 100% of it. It made no sense to me…”

“Until we came to comprehend that Harry had, in fact, one hundred and fifty percent of a soul. All of his and half of Voldemort’s” Dumbledore said, his voice swelling with relief.

“But what of the diary” Severus said, sitting up “The diary was also a horcrux.”

Albus quirked a white eyebrow, his face suddenly serious “You think that the diary was also Voldemort’s?”

“The basilisk appeared to believe so.”

“Splitting one’s soul, Severus, it is a highly dangerous business. It renders the soul unstable. No wizard has ever been fool enough to make more than one, multiple horcruxes would render the wizard wholly insane.”

“And Voldemort was known for his rationality!” Severus snapped, his eyes rimmed with red.

“It has been a long day for you, my boy” Albus said kindly “I think you should get some rest. Serendipitously, we have avoided a great evil, yet it’s passing makes the evil no less terrifying. You are exhausted and overwrought."

"Headmaster, I fear..."

"To bed, Severus; Poppy will make you up one beside Harry's. Life, I find, always looks better in the morning.”

“Ah, Mr Potter-Snape, you’re with us at last” smiled Madam Pomfrey, bustling over and twirling her wand to cast her customary diagnostic spell.

Harry grinned and relaxed into Galen’s coils; he loved the scent of the spirit snake, which reminded him of ripe peaches, the sharp tang of winter and his father’s aftershave all at once. “Hi Galen!” he whispered, stroking the air above the snake’s scales.

“Well, everything seems to be hunky-dory!” Madam Pomfrey said briskly “Now, how about some breakfast?”

“Can I have one of your special yoghurts please” Harry grinned “Oh, and some toast and honey?”

“Of course, Harry. It’s good to see you with a healthy appetite” the Mediwitch said cheerfully, walking over to her office. “I’ll be back in two ticks.”

Harry lay back in bed, smiling over at his sleeping father. His Dad looked much younger when he slept, scarcely older than the Seventh Years, if not for the deep lines under his eyes. Harry’s heart swelled with protective love; although it still felt kind of funny to be able to love someone and say so whenever he wanted, it was wonderful too.

As Harry looked at his father, he noticed a strange, flat piece of leather poking out just under Severus’s chin. A moment later, Harry realised it was a book; his poor Dad must have fallen asleep still reading.

Deciding not to bother his father (like Harry, Severus tended to start awake if he was touched whilst sleeping), Harry reached over and picked up an ancient-looking volume, which was lying on his Dad’s bedside table.

“Secrets of the Darkest Art…” Harry read aloud, his brow furrowing. Why was his Dad reading a book like this?

“Harry James Potter-Snape, just what are you doing with that” cried Madam Pomfrey, setting the tray hovering and marching over to snatch the tome from Harry’s hands.

“It’s Dad’s!” Harry replied, feeling surprised and hurt. “He always lets me borrow his stuff if I want!”

“This is not suitable reading material for anyone, Harry.” The Mediwitch scolded “Your father is doing research not through choice, but because he has to. He would not want you reading this.”

“How do you know?!” Harry snapped back, his insides feeling hot.

“That’s quite enough, Harry!” Madam Pomfrey said firmly, pushing the tray into Harry’s hands. “Now, eat your breakfast!”

Grumbling, Harry took a vindictive bite out of his toast. It wasn’t as if he had done anything wrong, Dad let him read anything on his shelves, Harry didn’t even have to ask. Madam Pomfrey was really mean to yell at him and it was dead rude to snatch, everyone knew that.

It didn’t occur to Harry that these feelings of resentment and anger were in any way unusual for him, nor did he recall accepting a reprimand, from a cool look from Madam Pince to his aunt’s beatings, as anything other than just punishment. Harry felt, in fact, like any other eleven year old who believes himself wronged by an adult. Although Harry had learned to ignore the voices, they had still been there; now, however, nothing whispered that he deserved this, that it was his due. Harry knew he was justified in his anger; the way he had been treated was NOT FAIR.

However, with the sunlight combing through his hair and warm food in his stomach, Harry’s ire soon burnt itself out and, before long, he was dozing in the sunshine, happy as he had been upon waking.

oOoOo

“Harry!” a gentle, familiar voice cut through the sleeping child’s dreams.

“Hmm?” Harry murmured, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow: he was warm and comfortable and didn’t want to wake up.

Severus smiled at his little, dark-haired son and gently shook his shoulder. “Harry! I’ve got someone here whose longing to see you.”

Harry rolled over onto his bottom and sat up, rubbing his eyes “Hmm, Dad?”

A smooth, velvety snout rubbed gently against his jaw and Harry grinned “Reggie”

“I’ll go and see about lunch” Severus grinned and, ruffling his son’s hair, strode into Madam Pomfrey’s office

“FssspssssssSssss” the little python replied, coiling around Harry’s shoulders and snuggling his head against his master’s neck.

“Huh?!”

“Sssssphissssissss?”

“I… I can’t? Why are you just hissing?” Harry demanded, horror creeping into his expression.

“PhissssssSchhssfissfizz?”

“Dad!” Harry screamed, tears streaming down his face “Icanunnerstanreggie!”

“SssschSssssssssschSchssss!” wailed Reggie, frightened and upset.

“Harry! What’s wrong!” Severus cried, dashing to Harry's bedside.

“Reggie’s gone strange! I can’t understand him!” Harry moaned, looking up at his father with huge, tearfilled, green eyes.

*“Waaaaaaaah! Harry not lissstening to me! He only sssssssspeaking two-legs!”* sssschhed Reggie

*“Oh, gods no!”* Severus groaned; his mind was still reeling from last night and the last thing he needed was more emotionally-fraught complications.

“And now you’re just hissing too!” wept Harry, burying his face in his hands.

*“Waaaaaaaaaah! Harry issss crying! Kingy issss ssssssscared!!!”* Reggie sobbed.

“Harry, hush! Calm down!” Severus pleaded, pulling the hysterical boy into his arms. “Hush! We’ll think of something. Please, calm. You’re frightening Reggie!”

*“Woe! Woe! My two-legsssssss! What hassss happened to my two-lessss. No more ssssssssspeak! Woe! Woe!”*

*“Quiet, Kingy! Do not ssssch. Harry will be better sssoon!” soothed, Severus, rocking Harry and, by default, Reggie, who were both now sitting in his lap.

*“Woe! Woe!”* Reggie wailed. Gulping back his tears, Harry stroked his pet’s soft scales and rubbed his cheek against the side of the ssschssing python’s jaw. By degrees, both boy and snake relax, cuddling into Severus and each other and trying to calm their breathing, which still hitched with tears.

“I’ve got a headache!” Harry whimpered finally, pressing his face into his father's collar. 

Madam Pomfrey, who of course, had heard the racket but knew better to intervene, bustled over with two vials of Severus’ stress headache reliever, giving one to the father and spelling the other into Harry’s stomach, lest the very thought of drinking it made him nauseous, as it often did with Severus.

“Madam Pomfrey, I can’t talk to Reggie any more!” Harry whimpered, tears brightening his emerald eyes.

“I know, love. I’m sorry.” The Mediwitch said kindly, summoning a flannel and gently sponging the tears off Harry’s cheeks.

“Ello, Harry! I heard yeh was in here!” boomed Hagrid, throwing open the doors of the hospital wing with large grin bristling his beard. “Ere, wha’s wrong, lad?!” The large man exclaimed, his beetle-black eyes filling with concern as he noted Harry's red-rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks.

“I… I used to be able to talk to snakes, Hagrid!” Harry said, his voice suffused with sadness “But now I can’t anymore!”

“Yeh were a Parselmouth!” Hagrid said, dropping his box of rock cakes with a clang.  Severus glared at him.

“Yeah” Harry replied miserably, rubbing his eyes.

Horror and empathy struggled briefly on Hagrid’s kind face but, as always, the latter won “Aww, ‘Arry. I’m righ’ sorry fer yeh!”

Harry nodded and sighed. He was sorry for himself too.

“I was thinking, mebbe yeh might like to come and have tea in me hut?” Hagrid ventured.

“I think that would be a very good idea, Hagrid” Severus said, encouragingly: he needed time to think and something to clear his head, not necessarily in that order. “Would you like to visit Hagrid, Harry?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Harry replied, stroking Reggie’s scales.

“I need to do some research, Harry.” Severus said gently “Why don’t you go with Hagrid and I’ll take Reggie to your bedroom, in my quarters?”

“Okay, Dad” Harry sighed heavily.

Poppy came out of her office holding a small, porcelain tureen “Casserole and dumplings, Hagrid. Harry hasn’t eaten very much today, so I thought you might both like to share a spot of lunch.”

Harry looked at the little casserole dish doubtingly; ‘spot’ would be the word.

“Undetectable extension charm, Harry” Poppy smiled.

“That would be grand, Poppy. I love yeh dumplings.”

Severus made a strange sort of snort, causing Harry to turn around in concern. “I think I might be getting a slight cold” The Potions Master said briskly. “Off you go, Harry. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” He gave Harry a brief squeeze and gently unwound Reggie from the little boy’s shoulders.

“Bye, bye, Reggie” Harry said tragically, stroking the python’s head tenderly.

“Ssswiss” Reggie replied sadly.

“Come now, lad” Hagrid said kindly, placing a large hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s blow them cobwebs away. A nice walk and a bit of hot dinner will fix you up nicely.”

Harry smiled up at Hagrid bravely. He had discovered, this year, that what is lost can be found again, if sought, and, with his clever, loving father seeking a cure for his problem, Harry was sure that everything would be all right again soon.

“Draco, Draco, Draco” sighed Lucius, folding up his copy of the Daily Prophet and looking over at his son, who had stampeded through his door with all the elegance of a rampaging hippogriff.

“You’ll never, ever guess!” Draco cried, bouncing on his toes, his face flushed and his eyes alight with joy.

Lucius smirked “So perhaps you’d better tell me, my dragon?”

Draco’s grin split even wider “That’s just it! Hagrid’s got a dragon!”

“A what?!”

“A dragon! A Norwegian Ridgeback! Harry said so! Severus is going to build it an enclosure in the forbidden forest and Dumbledore’s applying for a licence and everything!” chirruped Draco “It is so cool! Do you think we’ll be able to ride it?”

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or hex everyone until they showed themselves capable of even an iota of common sense.

oOoOo

Severus sat marking, listening to the birds singing and the occasional whoop of joy as Harry and Hagrid raced their threstrals. The Gamekeeper had introduced Harry to a particularly sweet-natured filly and the gangly, black threstral had won Harry’s heart and, more worryingly, his imagination: if flying on a broomstick was cool, flying on a Pegasus would be super-cool. “Besides, Blaise’s mum lets him” Harry said, looking up at his father with pleading, green eyes.

Severus, having cast potent cushioning charms on Harry, allowed him to take a short flight. One taste, however, hadn’t been enough and, having been assured of the threstral’s imperviousness to the imperious curse, Severus had accepted defeat.

“Severus! A word!”

The Potions Master turned and saw Lucius’ flushed face glaring out of the fire. “Come in, Lucius.”

Lucius swept into the room, looking extremely disgruntled and, ruthlessly smoothing his robes, asked “Why does Draco believe that Hogwarts will soon be in possession of a Norwegian Ridgeback?”

“Ah!” Severus said, feeling rather like a naughty schoolboy under his former prefect’s stern gaze “Yes, Hagrid, it seems, has come into possession of a dragon egg.”

“Dragon breeding is illegal, Severus!”

“Well, Hagrid did not actually breed the dragon, per se…”

“Nevertheless, Dragon Eggs are a Class A Non-Tradable Substance!” Lucius interrupted impatiently.

“He was given it by a traveller a couple of days ago” Severus said soothingly. “Hagrid’s status as Grounds keeper of Hogwarts is well known amongst the wizarding population.”

“And why, may I ask, has he not handed it to the MacFustys? Even if Hagrid did not wish to involve his employer, which does not seem to be the case, the Hebridies are but forty miles as the threstral flies.”

“Sit down, Lucius” Severus said, pouring a substantial glass of elf made wine and handing it to his flustered friend. “Let me explain my thinking.”

“Very well.”

“While it is true that dragons are classified as one of the more dangerous of species…”

“They’re Pentuple X, Severus! Known wizard killers!”

“That classification is based on the worst breeds, for example the Hungarian Horntail." Severus explained patiently. "Less aggressive breeds such as the Norwegian Ridgeback are capable of partial-domestication, and, if under the guidance of a Parselmouth, can even be tamed.”

“Parselmouth? But that’s the language of snakes?” Lucius said, frowning.

“Dragons understand Parseltongue in much the same way that a German will understand Dutch.” Severus replied calmly.

“If Slytherin were alive, that may be a consideration” Lucius sneered, crossing his legs “However, I am not aware that Hogwarts has any Parselmouths on the staff.”

“I learnt Parseltongue earlier this week.” smiled Severus.

“Oh come on, Parselmouths are born, not made.” laughed Lucius.

“While this is true, a basilisk can, if they deem it wise, grant the gift.”

Lucius stared at Severus, truly speechless for the first time in his adult life.

“There is a ‘Chamber of Secrets’, Lucius, and a 'monster'. Slytherin kept a pet basilisk, totally tame, mind you; the rumours of his duty to kill muggleborns were nothing more than a foolish, wicked myth. Slytherin discovered that Harry is a Parselmouth, Riddle unintentionally passed the ability onto him when the killing curse rebounded. Slytherin wished that his former pet be bound to Harry, so as to avoid Tom Riddle possessing the poor creature again.”

“Again?” Lucius spluttered, completely at sea.

“Tom Riddle imperiused ‘Hissy’, Slytherin’s basilisk in the forties, forcing him to kill a young girl. The basilisk, who is an intelligent, gentle creature, hates Riddle with a vengeance”

“Where is this Chamber? Can the Basilisk get out?” Lucius asked, looking horrified.

“The Chamber is hidden in the bowels of Hogwarts. Hissy cannot get out via the entrance we use” Severus evaded. No need to mention the exit.

“Nevertheless," Lucius said, shaking his head "While I have every confidence in your abilities I remain concerned: what if, in your absence, the dragon went on a rampage?”

“He is to be confined to a secure enclosure in the forbidden forest unless needed. You know that I am capable of creating sufficient wards.” Severus replied “Moreover, Mr Macfusty has already promised his support; Hagrid will have a world-class trainer to guide him throughout the dragon’s adolescence.”

“Yes, well, it still appears a great risk for no benefit.” Lucius said, slightly mollified.

“Hogwarts had, in the past, been guarded by dragons” Severus said slowly “and there may come a time when such defence is, again, necessary.”

Lucius frowned “I am, of course, aware of the Pettigrew incident and, naturally, of Harry’s encounter with the troll, however, I do not see that these events necessarily suggest a third party involvement, much less the prospect of an invading army.”

Severus’ expression darkened “I am certain that the troll was released by someone who was aware of Harry’s movements: Harry had taken to eating alone in a remote corridor of the dungeons. It was no coincidence, I believe, that the troll was released when and where it was.”

“Nonetheless…”

“Riddle created Horcruxes, Luc.”

“A Horcrux?” Lucius asked, horrified. The possibility that Riddle might ressurrect himself, while awful enough, was no where near as terrifying as knowing that he had the requisite means of doing so. 

“Horcruxes, plural. More than one. Many more.” Severus said, wretchedly “I legilimised Slughorn; Riddle wanted a seven part soul!”

Lucius, white as a sheet, shook his head “He became progressively more insane… by the end his brilliant mind… subtle manipulation gave way to brute force.”

“He whittled away at his soul until it degraded beyond repair” Severus said grimly. “One horcrux was destroyed but that leaves five.”

“Three, I think…”

“Lucius?” Severus looked up, his dark eyes piercing.

“I… I think… rather, I am sure that I destroyed two.” Lucius said jerkily “After our discussion at Yule, I withdrew all the dark artefacts from the vaults entrusted to me. There was a cup and a diary amongst them. Riddle entrusted the diary to me and the cup… Well, I found it in Bella’s vault and it had the same aura as the diary. It couldn’t be banished or summoned ether and, when I placed it, them, in the fiend-fyre… it screamed.”

Severus bit his lip “Riddle will rise again, Luc. Hogwarts needs every protection we can obtain.”

oOoOo

To: Cornelius Fudge. British Minister for Magic.
From: L. Malfoy. Head of Governors, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.

21st February

RE: Death Eaters at Hogwarts

Dear Cornelius,

I am absolutely appalled that no steps have been taken to secure the school from further invasion attempts by former Death-Eaters. Young master Potter is, it appears, in considerable danger from these ne’er do wells, a horrific situation which could not fail to seriously distress even those whom only know him as the saviour of the Wizarding World. I, of course, as his de facto Godfather, have other grounds on which to base my interest in the welfare of this delightful boy. It is a matter of no insignificant concern that Master Potter has been attacked not only by a Death-Eater but also a troll! As Head of Governors, I am parley to certain, privileged information and, in light of the second incident, I feel it my duty to inform you that I have good grounds to believe was released by a party familiar with Mr Potter’s movements, who knew that Master Potter would be alone in the dungeons when they released the troll. I also am certain Peter Pettigrew, who failed his O.W.L in Care of Magical Creatures, was not responsible for the incident with the troll. Two attacks from two separate criminals in two terms is a statistic to disquieten any parent and, having discussed the situation with Messrs Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and Madam Zabini, we are all agreed that this cannot be allowed to happen again.

Given that my eleven year old son, Draco, not only shares a dormitory with Harry but is practically joined to him at the hip, I am extremely anxious to hear what steps you plan to take to safeguard Hogwarts against further Death-Eater activity. Although Professor Dumbledore has assured me that extra wards, designed to detect animagi, have been erected, I am highly concerned that Pettigrew’s attempt on Harry’s life will encourage other Death-Eaters to test Hogwart’s defences. Dementors are, naturally, out of the question, but could the Ministry not place some other powerful creature as guard against potential assailants?

Yours Sincerely,

Lucius A. Malfoy.

oOoOo

Smirking, Lucius crumpled the parchment to make it look slightly second hand and slipped it under a folder on Cornelius Fudge’s desk. He then wrote a Memo:

To: Cornelius Fudge. British Minister for Magic.
From: L. Malfoy. Head of Governors, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.

28th February

RE: Letter of 21st February: Death Eaters at Hogwarts

Dear Minister,

I have yet to receive a response to my urgent letter of 21st February. To discover that the security of Hogwarts and the safeguarding of its students, which includes my own son and Harry Potter, is not a priority is disheartening to say the least and causes me to seriously consider whether the Malfoy family, who have attended Hogwarts since the school opened it’s doors a thousand years ago, should continue to fund your Ministry.

L. Malfoy.

oOoOo

From the Desk of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

29th February

Dear Cornelius,

Splendid news! Serendipity has provided a solution as soon as the question is posed!

Historically, Hogwarts has been guarded by dragons on many occasions and, indeed, these creatures have proved an effective line of defence on many occasions, particularly during the incumbency of Headmaster Trelawney, when the school was attacked by the muggle army.

Last night, my brother, Aberforth, discovered a dragon egg under one of the tables at the ‘Hogs’ Head Inn’ and, as my Grounds Keeper, Hagrid, is something of an expert on dragons, he, quite naturally, deemed it best to deliver the egg into Hagrid’s care.

A young, well-trained dragon would be an absolute asset to Hogwart’s security and should certainly discharge your duty to provide adequate protection for the children.

Hagrid, whose case, as you know, was reviewed, yesterday, by the Wizengamot (who, naturally, delivered the unanimous verdict that had been a severe miscarriage of justice as he was clearly innocent on all charges) is more than willing to care for the young dragon and Angus MacFusty, who has a daughter in Hufflepuff, has offered to be ‘on-call’ to advise and support. Moreover, our esteemed Professor Snape, a powerful wardsmith, will create an enclosure for the dragon in the Forbidden Forest, which, as I am sure you are aware, houses many other such species.

I anticipate that you will be as delighted by this situation as I; serendipitously, we appear to have obtained an egg and a dragon keeper at no cost to the Ministry whom, as you know, are obliged by law to fund both the staff retainers and the upkeep of Hogwart’s grounds and security.

I would, therefore, like to request a renewal of Hogwart’s permit to keep dragons. I have spoken to Mr Malfoy and he is in complete agreement that this would be, by far, the most sensible solution to our Death-Eater problem.

Yours Respectfully,

Albus Dumbledore.

“HisssssssIssssssWhissssss?” the Basilisk asked courteously, gently nuzzling the child with his large snout. Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around Hissy’s muzzle, lowering his head to rest on the huge snake’s nose.

“FisssFizzzSssschss?” Hissy asked, concerned; with his bulbous eyes closed, he hadn’t seen the tears but he could certainly smell them.

*“Harry cried when he realised that he could not speak Parseltongue”* Severus explained.

*“Poor Hatchlingsssss. Poor Harry and Kingey”* the basilisk fsssshed. *“I will help. Tell the child to sit down and look into my eyessssss. He will sssssee.”*

Severus summoned a couple of chairs and, positioning them back to back, told Harry to take the chair facing Hissy. Sitting down in his own chair, Severus pulled a roll of essays out of his pocket and started marking.

Feeling slightly nervous, Harry gazed steadily at Hissy’s closed eyelids and, suddenly, the basilisk opened his eyes, which, to Harry’s great surprise, were the exact shade of green as his own.

In later years, Harry would never be quite able to explain how learning by legilimancy felt. When he took the Apperation Course, he would find an appropriate metaphor; the sensation in his brain was the exact opposite of that caused by Apperating. Hissy first stretched a bit inside his brain, gently prying open the area which had closed with the death of the horcrux, then the basilisk slowly, slowly linked the phonemes of Parseltongue to their corresponding sounds in human languages. It was a painstaking task: Harry was not trained in mind magic and, therefore, his brain did not have the elasticity of Severus’, making this a delicate task, rather akin to keyhole surgery.

However, as Hissy has spent most of the last millennia helping humans, some of whom were very hungry for knowledge, and, once or twice, in default of a Parselmouth heirs, his bonded wizards had needed Hissy to teach Parseltongue to their children, though none had been so young and unassayed as Harry.

By the time that Hissy had finished with the phoneme translation, Harry was, against all of his expectations, more than willing to call it a day. Hissy, realising that his hatchling was tiring, closed his eyes and called to Severus.

“Harry hatchling is tired and in need of rich meat and sleeping.”

Severus rolled up his essays “Thank you, Hissy. I have arranged for the house-elves to send you a cleaned and uncooked boar for your meal, tonight. Is there any other meat which you prefer?”

The basilisk smiled as only a snake can smile “Pig is good meat. Male deer is also good.”

Placing an arm around Harry’s shoulders, Severus grinned. Hissy really was a creature after his own heart.

oOoOo

Severus and Harry spent the rest of the week in his quarters at Hogwarts, cooking and eating meals together in the snug little galley kitchen and only venturing outside for Harry’s daily Parseltongue lesson.

In the first few days of the holiday, Severus had relied on the excuse that they had the whole week to talk and then, after the binding ceremony, Harry obviously had too much on his plate for Severus to heap on extra helpings of stress and anxiety.

However, the week had frittered away and, tomorrow, Saturday, must be the day. Severus spent half the night revising the conversation, as, indeed, he had most nights that week, and woke up in the cold, grey light of dawn, dread weighing upon him like an icy shroud. After spending ten minutes rearranging his limbs and bedclothes in an attempt to return to the foggy warmth of sleep, Severus accepted defeat and stumbled into the kitchen, in quest of coffee.

Hours later, Harry padded into the kitchen to find his father removing a fragrant tray of buttery, smoked-cheese croissants whilst a large plate of apple turnovers wafted their sugary, cinnamon scent across the kitchen. “Wow, Dad! These look fantastic!”

Severus smiled tiredly and, pouring Harry a glass of milk, offered his son an oven-warm croissant.

“Why’d you cook all this?” Harry asked, tearing the bread open and nibbling the melted cheese inside.

“I woke up very early this morning, Harry and, as I couldn’t sleep, I thought I would make you breakfast.”

“Poor you, Dad.” Harry said sympathetically, his earnest green eyes and milk moustache forming an amusing contrast.

Severus bit into his croissant and, deciding that there was no time like the present, began. “When I was a little boy, Harry, no older than you are now, I met a boy on the Hogwarts Express. He was from a Gryffindor family and he was very biased against Slytherins.”

“Like Ron Weasley?” Harry asked, cracking open an apple turnover and pouring cream inside.

“Yes, Harry. This little boy had another friend, who also didn’t like Slytherins and, being young and foolhardy, they were… these boys didn’t care about the feelings of people in Slytherin and often played unkind jokes at their expense.”

Harry nodded sagely: this sounded just like Ron and Seamus.

“However, when I was a little boy, the people in Slytherin weren’t as nice as they are now. Mr Malfoy was very kind to me but, as he is a number of years older, our lessons were at different times and different places in Hogwarts, so he couldn’t always be around to help me when the two Gryffindor’s bullied me.”

“What about the other Slyths? Didn’t they stick up for you?”

Severus smiled sadly “I was a very nervous little boy, Harry and, because my mother didn’t take care of me, I did not know to take care of myself. My clothes were usually messy and I did not wash my hair much or clean my teeth. I was not especially handsome or charming and, although I was clever, the other little boys and girls did not value that very much, so I had no real friends in my own house, except Lucius”

Harry’s eyes were anguished. He knew what it was like to be the weak, unwashed, unloved child, the one with no friends to protect them from bullies or even commiserate and comfort them. It made Harry’s heart ache to think of Severus being like him.

“But… Didn’t my mum help?” Harry asked desperately.

“Yes, Harry, she tried to but I was a proud little boy and, after one or two quarrels, she learnt to let me take care of myself.” Severus said ruefully. “Unfortunately, the two Gryffindors were not the sort of bullies whom only pick on the weak; when I fought back, they became more determined to defeat me and, as they had two other friends to help them, I was often… somewhat vigorous in my self-defence.”

“That sucks!” Harry said angrily “Four against one! I thought Gryffs were supposed to be honourable.”

“One day," Severus continued calmly "the little Gryffindor boy developed a crush on my best friend, Lily. Lily, however, disliked the boy because of his bullying so she shunned him”

“Too right” harrumphed Harry.

“This made the Gryffindor very angry with me” Severus explained “and, as Lucius had left by this time, the four Gryffindors became somewhat violent.”

“Why didn’t the teachers stop them?” Harry asked, incensed.

Severus smiled ruefully “They tried, Harry but, however many detentions they gave these boys, however many points they took, the children did not learn. Indeed, they treated me all the worse because they blamed me for their punishments.”

“That’s really dumb!”

Severus nodded “One day, during our OWL exams, the Gryffindor boys were bored and, when they saw me by myself, they decided to bully me. They knocked me over and filled my mouth with soap, which choked me.”

Harry’s eyes flashed “I’d have kicked them in the nuts if I had been there.”

Severus smiled, deciding that now was not the time to correct his son’s diction “Your mother was of much the same opinion. She was so angry when she saw what they were doing to me, she marched over and started arguing with them. However, by this time I was so angry that I hexed the Gryffindor boy, which hurt his face a little. He hung me upside down using a spell which I had invented and I was so humiliated and angry that, when James teased me about needing your mother’s help, I said a very wrong and unkind thing which hurt your mother badly; that I didn’t need help from mudbloods.” Severus explained, his dark eyes haunted and shoulders tense.

“James…” Harry gasped “My father was called James!”

“Ah!” Severus could have kicked himself: of all the times to lose track of what he was saying…

“It was my Dad, wasn’t it!” Harry gasped, his eyes filling with tears “Is that why you didn’t like me when I started school. Everyone says I look like him!”

Severus swallowed “I love you, Harry. It doesn’t matter to me who sired you. I’m… I… you’re my son.”

Harry dashed around the table and clung to Severus, sobbing into his collar. He couldn’t bear to think of his Dad being hurt like that, let alone by someone related to him.

“Why did Mum marry him?!” Harry sniffled “Why?! How could she?!”

“James’ little group of Gryffindors, the Marauders, stopped bulling me so badly after our OWL exams.” Severus said, pulling his son onto his lap “Your mother… I had upset Lily so badly that she no longer felt that she could be my friend” he explained sadly “However, although Lily held me responsible for my actions, she principally blamed the Marauders and, as she was a well-liked girl, the Marauders became very unpopular for a while.”

“So they only stopped because bullying made them unpopular?” Harry asked contemptuously.

“I think that the Marauders realised that they had become people whom they did not like” Severus forced himself to say. “As James Potter matured, his behaviour became more principled and, as Lily probably saw him at his best, she must have forgiven his past bad behaviour and grown to like the man that he had become.”

“I know that it’s wrong to hurt people now, so why didn’t he?” Harry grumbled.

“James was not taught to consider the effect of his actions on other people’s feelings.” Severus replied “He could do no wrong in his parents’ eyes and, therefore, it took a while for him to learn that he could make mistakes.”

Harry nodded “Like God in Paradise Lost: everything God does is good because he is God and, therefore, even if something would be evil if done by anyone else, it has to be good when he does it because he is God.”

Severus hugged his little son “I see you’ve been doing a lot of extracurricular reading.”

“A bit.” Harry smiled sadly.

Severus sighed “James… once saved my life, Harry. One of his friends had played a dangerous trick on me, which, if James had not stepped in, would have lead to my death.” and their expulsion, Severus added, in the privacy of his mind.

Harry’s eyes were round as galleons “What did they do?!”

“That is a story for another time, Harry” Severus evaded “The reason why I am telling you this now is that one of James’s friends, Sirius Black, was named your Godfather.”

Harry tilted his head on the side, perplexed as to where this was going.

Severus gritted his teeth “When your parents knew that Voldemort was hunting them, they decided to go into hiding and they used a special spell to ensure that Voldemort could not find them. This spell is called the fidelis charm: it involves securing a secret, in this case your parent’s hiding place, in a person. As long as the person doesn’t tell anyone, no one will ever find it out.”

Harry nodded, intrigued.

“Your parents used this spell and everyone thought that their Secret Keeper was your Godfather, Sirius. However, they had secretly made someone else their Secret Keeper, another friend of theirs called Peter. However, Peter had a secret of his own; he was a friend of Voldemort and he told him where your parents were hiding.”

“Oh no!” Harry gasped.

Severus hugged him “Yes. However, although almost everyone thought that Sirius was the Secret Keeper, one person knew differently; Sirius himself. Sirius confronted Peter and Peter, after making a speech intended to indicate to bystanders that Sirius had been the Secret-Keeper, blew up the street, cut off his finger and transformed into his animagus form, a rat, and ran into the gutter. Sirius was caught by the aurors and imprisoned without trial for Peter’s murder.”

Harry’s mouth twisted “Magical law seems pretty pants, Dad. You’d think that, with all the potions and stuff they have, Wizards would be much better at finding out if someone was innocent!”

Severus nodded “I know, Harry. The thing is that, during the last war, many terrible things happened to innocent people. Voldemort was a very clever man and he indoctrinated people, deceiving them into believing that muggles were inferior and that it was important not to let muggleborns weaken magical bloodlines. Once Voldemort had won their minds, he persuaded his followers that they must use the Unforgivable curses for the greater good.”

“Unforgivable curses?” Harry asked.

“Three, very dark curses, Harry. One, the Cruciatus Curse, tortures the victim, causing unbearable pain. Another, the Imperius Curse, enslaves its victim, forcing them to do the caster’s bidding. The last” Severus said quietly “is the killing curse. Casting any one of these curses will earn you a life sentence in prison.”

“They sound horrible.”

“They are” Severus said heavily. “Many people were very angry with Voldemort and, unfortunately, the Head of the Auror department decided to fight fire with fire. The Aurors were instructed to use the unforgivable curses on Voldemort’s supporters and, as Dark magic warps the soul and psyche, many Aurors become as vicious and arbitary as Voldemort himself.” Severus paused “However, we have digressed. Your Godfather, Sirius, has just been released from Prison because Peter… Peter was the rat that Isis and Reggie killed.”

“What?!” Harry gasped, gazing at his father in disbelief.

“Yes, Harry. Peter, it seems, was pretending to be a pet in order to spy on you and, of course, when he was found dead at Hogwarts, the Aurors realised that they might have been mistaken with regards to Sirius. A week ago, Sirius was questioned under Veritaserum and found innocent. He is currently recovering in St Mungos but, I expect, he will wish to see you.”

“Did James know him at Hogwarts?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Yes, Harry. Sirius was James’ best friend.” Severus replied, keeping his voice level.

“That meaned he bullied you.” Harry said angrily, folding his thin arms “I don’t ever want to see him.”

“Harry, it might be a good idea to hear his side of the story before you decide that.” Severus forced himself to say.

“No!” Harry said firmly, looking his father steadily in the eye “I love you Dad” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the side of his father’s face.

Severus hugged Harry “I know, Harry. However, it would not be disloyal to me if you should wish to see Sirius. He could tell you lots of stories about Lily and James and…” Severus paused, agonising over whether he should speak or remain silent “Sirius was not the only teenager to make a terrible mistake. Just before I took my OWLs, I did something very wrong and very stupid, for which I will never forgive myself.”

“What?” Harry asked, pulling out of the hug to gaze up at his father, who, to his surprise, looked pale and ill.

“I… I joined Voldemort.”

Tangling his fingers in Severus’ long, fine hair, Harry laid his head on his father’s shoulder, listening to the rapid heartbeat thrumming through Severus’ body, whilst staring, unseeing, into the distance with blank, green eyes. All he knew was that his father would make this right. He always made everything right.

“When I was a little boy, my father stayed at home to look after me whilst my mother worked.” Severus heard himself saying “My father was a very kind, gentle man, he loved me dearly and, during my early childhood I was very happy; my father treated me as more of a friend than a son and I shared in all his pleasures: fishing, swimming, cookery, reading. Every moment of the day, we spent together and, at night, he tucked me into bed and told me stories until I fell asleep. One day, however, my mother was involved in a terrible accident; the potion which she was brewing exploded, killing her assistant and badly scalding her. The company fired her and, without a decent reference, she was unable to find employment elsewhere.”

“My mother was not like my father, she was… mentally unstable and very violent. She beat me and, when my father discovered my injuries, he challenged her and she killed him.”

“As I explained earlier, when Lucius left Hogwarts, the Marauders’… it became something worse than mere playground bullying and, therefore, I… tried to make myself agreeable amongst the Slytherins in my year.” Severus sighed “Most unfortunately, many of my contemporaries were… well, their behaviour was almost as bad as that of the Marauders but, unlike the Marauders, the Slytherins wished me no harm.”

“It was a cowardly choice, to ally myself with people whose views… Who believed that Muggleborns had no place in wizarding society” Severus explained, his mouth tense “In previous years, I had firmly opposed these fanatics, arguing against their views by using Lily’s obvious magical superiority and my father’s super-excellent character to endorse my convictions. However, having realised that my arguments were being met with cloth ears, I gradually ceased to verbally oppose these prejudices; I told myself, at the time, that I was merely feigning deafness when my year-mates expressed their views, that I remained firm in my beliefs, but, in hindsight, I realise that my mind was being poisoned.”

“I understand, Dad” Harry whispered.

Severus hugged Harry gently “Over the weeks, my Slytherin contemporaries gradually accepted me into their circle, protecting me from the Marauders and showing me a level of kindness to which I was unaccustomed. They praised my skills in potions, showed interest in my research and shared my pleasure when my inventions worked. However, what was most delightful was that their prejudice against muggles and muggleborns had reduced, or so it seemed at the time. One or two people confided to me that they had been enlightened by the arguments of a very clever, moral man, though they refused to disclose his name.”

“In the Serpents Nest, I soon found myself in the midst of conversations of quite a different tone than the ignorant prejudice which had so infuriated me before.” Severus said wistfully “The more intelligent amongst my set were pondering whether it was wrong of Wizardkind to simply ignore the hardship endured by muggles, whose lack of magical talent left them weak and vulnerable. One often touted example was muggle medicine: a wizard can mend a broken leg in half an hour, whereas muggles must wait for a couple of months for the bone to heal naturally, involving much pain and inconvenience to the patient. Another such example was famine; as many countries could not grow enough food for their populations, millions of muggles starved to death.”

“These arguments were very convincing to Pureblood wizards who, having spent no time amongst muggles, believed that it would be a kindness to inflict wizarding rule upon them, reducing muggles to little better than slaves. I however, knew that, in England, muggles were quite capable of taking care of themselves.”

Harry looked up at his father’s sad, pale face, listening intently.

“However, my so-called ‘friends’ had an alternate plan; they began to discuss muggle and mage marriages, contemplating the danger towards the muggle partner if the witch or wizard they married happened to be of a violent disposition.”

“Like your parents?” Harry murmured.

“Yes” Severus replied quietly “They suggested that this danger was so acute that, if a witch or wizard married a muggle, that their magic must be bound. Given my past, this idea had particular resonance for me. I became drawn into their discussions and, the more I heard, the more I became convinced of the good sense of their views. It was explained to me that the embargo upon marrying muggleborns was not irrational; while Purebloods lived into their Two-hundreds, half-bloods rarely made their one-hundred-and-fiftieth birthday, quarter-bloods seldom lived past a hundred and muggleborns usually died in their eighties. Allowing ones children to marry muggleborns, they said, could lead to one outliving one’s heirs.”

“Is that true?” asked Harry, sounding surprised.

“Yes, however it is better to spend fifty years with someone one loves than a hundred and fifty with someone who excites nothing warmer than indifference.” Severus said firmly. “However, when I was young, the idea of death frightened me and, therefore, I allowed myself to be convinced. To my shame, I even accepted their use of the term ‘mudblood’; my so-called friends informed me the original word was ‘mort-blood’- deadly blood- and, appeased, made no further murmur against it and, once, used the word myself…” Severus said, his voice anguished.

“They’re good arguments, though, Dad. I… I’d have probably believed them too.” Harry said gently.

“One day, my friends told me that someone they knew, a very wealthy and powerful wizard, was interested in meeting me. He needed a skilled potioneer, they explained and, as I was so creative, they had suggested me. They informed me that this man, on hearing that my beliefs were akin to his, had expressed an interest in interviewing me.”

“Thus” Severus sighed “I met Voldemort. He did not introduce himself as such, however, preferring to be known as Marvolo Peverell. Voldemort was a charming man, intelligent, erudite and gracious. He flattered me and praised my abilities, promising to pay for my Potions Mastery if I would agree to work for him. Foolishly, I did not see beyond the mask.”

Harry swallowed, blinking back tears. His Dad had been tricked. It wasn’t his fault after all.

“Thus,” Severus said heavily “Whilst I completed a Potions Mastery in Alexandria, Voldemort employed me as his potioneer: every weekend, I made up an order of potions for him. Some were benign and others… were less so. However, to my shame, I did not think on their purpose. I had a comfortable home, a well equipped lab and infinite funding for my research. Little did I know, then, that the galleons I spent on rare ingredients were procured by blackmail and theft.”

“However, Voldemort was not the most stable of individuals and, as I reached my nineteenth year, his mask finally fell.” Severus continued “The vicious propensities, Voldemort’s sadism and prejudice, which had previously been concealed to all but the wickedest of his supporters, were rapidly revealed to all: we discovered that kindly Marvolo Peverell was, in fact, the terrorist known to the wizarding press as Voldemort. However, by this stage, I was involved too deeply to withdraw and Voldemort… soon after Voldemort had revealed his identity we were called to a meeting. When I arrived, I was bound and forced to witness two of my former colleagues, who had attempted to defect, being tortured and murdered.”

Severus paused “Then, I discovered that Lily, my childhood friend, was in danger: Voldemort was hunting her family, with the intent to kill them. I could not, I would not let that happen.”

“What did you do?” Harry gasped.

“I did the only thing that I could do, Harry” Severus replied quietly “I informed Professor Dumbledore of Voldemort’s plans and begged him to protect Lily. The Headmaster… he was very angry with me for following Voldemort and by no means ready to accept my pleas for forgiveness. At this time, Voldemort had informed me that I was to apply for the post of Potions Master at Hogwarts, in order to spy on Professor Dumbledore. However, the Headmaster also required a spy…”

“Why didn’t he just let you leave Voldemort?” Harry whispered in an anguished voice “He must have known that it was dead dangerous.”

“Professor Dumbledore needed a spy, Harry. The information I obtained enabled the Headmaster to save many people’s lives.” Severus explained gently.

“He should have listened!” cried Harry “How come wizards never, ever listen!” he looked at Severus with bright, impassioned eyes “It wasn’t your fault Dad, none of it!”

“What I did was very wrong, Harry.” Severus replied sadly “I allowed myself to be persuaded into beliefs which I knew to be incorrect and...”

Harry hugged his father around the neck. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. You made it right again.”

oOoOo

When Harry had pulled out of the hug, he asked his father if he could teach him some more duelling spells, knowing that, after revelations like this, the best thing to do was to behave normally. At Uroborus, Severus’ approach to dispelling awkwardness after a heart-to-heart had helped Harry greatly: by ending the more serious of their conversations by suggesting a fun activity, Severus had kept the child’s hands busy, making it’s easier for Harry to pretend that he wasn’t feeling rather awkward, and his mind occupied, an effective distraction from those little zigzags of embarrassment.

Harry and Severus passed the rest of the weekend with quiet industry. It felt kind of strange, to Harry, realising that his strong, clever, good father was actually fallible, that he had once been a naive teenage boy who needed protection and comfort. It was a good sort of strange, however. Harry felt a bit dumb about it, but the situation remembered the story of the fairy doll in the book his Mum had given his Dad when they were both kids; in that chapter, the narrator had described a beautiful doll, which was too pretty and frail for the narrator to play with and had to be kept wrapped in tissue paper in a cupboard. However, one day the narrator’s little sister had thrown this doll outside and broken it and, when the doll came back from the repair shop, it was a nice but ordinary doll, which the narrator could play with every day.

In his heart of hearts, Harry had always wondered whether he deserved Severus as a father and always tried to be a good son, so as to live up to the honour. Now, however, Harry had a different, albeit equally compelling reason; whereas, before, Harry had only seen an elegant, articulate wizard, he now realised that his father was reserved because he feared rejection and carefully regulated his speech due to feelings of inadequacy. Despite his dad's power and intelligence, he was only a man; a very good sort of man, undoubtedly, but one who was capable of making mistakes and who needed comfort and reassurance, just like Harry.

If a greater love was possible, knowing what his dad had suffered made Harry love and respect Severus all the more.

“Yes Dad” Harry smiled, looking up from his Herbology textbook, which he was reading in preparation for Professor Sprout’s ‘Back to School’ usual quiz.

“Hagrid has informed me that Hedwig, Xiao and their chicks are ready to return to the main Owlery.”

“Cool!” Harry beamed; he had missed his familiar these last two and a half months but, as magical owls were homicidally protective over their nests, Hagrid had advised them to keep their distance until the chicks had reached their second month.

Severus smiled in return “I thought that, as our owls will now welcome us, visiting the chicks would be a pleasant way to spend our final afternoon together.”

“Sure, Dad.” Harry unfolded himself from his bed and, closing his notebook, followed his father to the owlery.

When Harry and Severus reached the owlery, Hedwig and Xiao flew to greet their humans, and, behind their noble, graceful forms, bobbed three little owlets, all wittering joyfully. Severus transfigured a couple of chairs and they sat, thus providing comfortable laps on which the fledglings could land.

Although the mirror which Hagrid inserted into the back of the nest box had given Harry some idea of the owl’s colouring and personalities, seeing the baby owls in the flesh was a different matter entirely.

The first owlet, who Harry had always thought most resembled Hedwig, he could now see had lovely, bright icy-white plumage, abundantly flecked with purple-grey markings. ‘White owl’, as Harry had mentally christened her, was easily the most graceful of the three and landed smartly on Severus’ lap, her intelligent, paynes-grey eyes moving inquisitively between the man and boy.

Next to arrive was ‘Grey Owl”, small and sleek with broad, inky markings splashed across her smoky feathers, forming a vivid contrast against her shining amber eyes. ‘Grey’ circled Harry and Severus carefully before plopping down beside her sister.

Finally, ‘Variegated Owl’s’ tumbling flight brought him barrelling into Harry’s stomach like a tiny, very fluffy bludger. Hedwig clicked her beak and Xiao bumped his head against the side of Severus’ in clear exasperation.

“Hey, little owl” grinned Harry, tentatively reaching out and stroking the owlet behind the bushy, dark tufts which stuck out from his pale face like wing-mirrors.

“He looks rather like a bulls-eye sweet” smirked Severus, referring to the plump owlet’s snowy white feathers, which were generously tipped with deep grey, creating a sombre candy-stripe effect.

“Yeah, he’s dead cute” smiled Harry, gazing lovingly into the owlet’s huge, primrose yellow eyes. “I think Nev would love him.” Hedwig chuckled and nibbled Harry’s hair affectionately.

“I agree, he seems a very affectionate creature. I believe Hermione would like the white.” Severus said, stroking the pale owlet’s silky feathers

“Yeah, she’s well pretty.” Harry agreed.

“Indeed. Have you thought how to, ah, introduce young Master Weasley to the final owl, if he should choose to accept your offer?” asked Severus.

Harry looked contemplatively at ‘Grey’, who cooed gently.

“Fred and George have written a note saying that, if Ron wants the owl, they’ll come with him to meet me whenever.” Harry replied “They said not to be worried though, ‘cos Ron’s a sucker for cute animals, even though he pretends he’s not.”

Severus snorted with laughter, causing the babies to ruffle their feathers in surprise and earning him a stern nip from Xiao.

“Hush, old fellow, your babies are safe” Severus murmured, stroking Xiao behind a head-tuft.

oOoOo

When Harry entered the Great Hall an hour later, it was to find Slytherin table thronging with his recently returned friends. Draco, exuberant from a week spent at his indulgent father’s robe-tails, chattered nineteen to the dozen, regaling everyone who would listen about trips to the ministry, helping his father choose dress robes, visiting the Natural History museum and Harrods and all the amazing and strange muggle sweets he had to share when the children returned to the Serpent’s Nest

Blaise was in a less than chipper mood; Balthazar had been rather awkward on the train, insisting on taking up the entire floor of their carriage, so as to soak up the sunshine, rather than coiling around the luggage racks, like any decent snake would do. The anaconda, it seemed, was large, lazy and stubborn and Blaise was only saved from lugging the heavy, less than ergonomic serpent up to the castle by a chance meeting with Hagrid, who took to Balthazar and offered to carry him down to the Serpent’s Nest.

Vin was full of news; his face glowing with pleasure, the large boy told them that he had been apprenticed to Mr Selwyn when he finished Hogwarts. His dad and Mr Selwyn hadn’t seen eye to eye for a while because of their political views, Vin tactfully explained, but this half-term they had met up during a soiree at Malfoy Manor and, after a few tentative overtures of friendship, decided to let bygones be bygones. As Mr Selwyn was an artist and Vin loved painting, art had been one of the main topics in that first, uncertain conversation and, on Mr Malfoy’s suggestion, Mr Selwyn had invited Mr Crabbe and his son to visit one afternoon, in order to exhibit Vincent’s portfolio. Mr Selwyn had been impressed and, after chatting with Vin, had invited him to attend a couple of Mr Selwyn’s commissions and, by the end of the week, both had been so pleased with the other that Mr Selwyn had offered Vin an apprenticeship.

Not to be outdone, Pansy loudly complained that, despite it being only March, Hermione had already started badgering them about revision time-tables and useful extracurricular texts. However, Tracy and Milly defended Hermione, saying that they appreciated her help and thought that Hermione was very kind to draft timetables which were geared to diminish their weaknesses and support their strengths. Daphne, on the other hand, teased Pansy with the suggestion that the only reason that the pureblood didn’t want to revise was to provide an excuse for getting lower marks than Hermione.

Whilst Pansy and Daphne bickered, Theo happily compared his revision timetable with Hermione, suggesting a couple of texts which might be useful to add to the ‘Personal Studies’ which they had been making by using ‘Escribo’ to copy useful paragraphs to their notebooks. Draco, somewhat disturbed by such dedication, saw it as nothing less than his duty to save their brains from exploding by interrupting Hermione and Theo’s conversation with the news that he had two copies of the finished portrait, one for Theo and another for Harry, in his room and that kind Mr Selwyn had also used his pensieve to create little sketches of Hermione and Blaise. The boys were delighted but Hermione looked rather nervous and, after a while, began casting covert glances to the reflection of her somewhat out-of-proportion teeth in the blade of the silver knife.

Noticing Hermione’s concern, Blaise started a conversation on how portraits were infinitely preferable to cameras because they caught the spirit of the person. Vin happily joined in, describing how he always hated his photos because, somehow, the camera always caught him with his eyes half shut or his face twisted in a daft expression. Then Daphne explained how her grandfather, who was a celebrity photographer, had to sometimes take two hundred photographs of the same person to get one which showed them at their best. Greg asked what a ‘celebrity’ was and Hermione and Daphne, with occasional help from Harry, told their friends all about film stars, television presenters and pop musicians.

oOoOo

The first week after half term passed before Harry could really note that it had started, stuffed with classes, visits to Hagrid’s Hut, Parseltongue lessons and, sweetest and best of all taking his friends to visit the baby owls. All the children were enthralled by the idea of seeing the tiny owlets, even Pansy, who was in a sulk, couldn’t manage to completely ignore Harry’s description of the babies and, when Harry invited kindly her, only required a little pressing to join them in the Owlery.

Naturally, the trio of owlets were much admired. Theo, Draco and Greg firmly gave the verdict that ‘grey’ was the best-looking owl of the three, on account of her dark colouring and smouldering orange eyes. Hermione, to Harry’s delight, was very taken with ‘white’, as were Milly and Vin. However, Blaise, Daphne, Neville and, surprisingly, Pansy, firmly championed ‘Variegated Owl’, who, in Pansy’s words, was “too sweet”.

Harry then revealed that, as Hermione and Nev didn’t have owls and his owls didn’t have humans, he had decided to give them one of the Owlets for their very own. Hermione was ecstatic and immediately begged Draco the use of his owl, so that she could ask her parents. Neville grinned from ear to ear: as much as he loved Trevor, a toad wasn’t a very useful familiar. The other first years all agreed that it was a very good idea of Harry’s to give an Owlet to Hermione, who definitely needed an owl, and a nice thought to offer one to Nev, who they all liked. Even Pansy was good humoured about it, after a fashion, teasing Neville that he and his owl would suit each other very well.

Neville decided there and then to christen his owlet ‘Hotchpotch’, a word which his Grandmother often used and which he particularly liked. Hermione was rather more hesitant but, on Vin’s suggestion that ‘White Owl’s’ colouring was rather alpine, shyly suggested Heidi to Harry. To Hermione’s surprise, the other Slytherin first years immediately recognised the title and agreed that it was a very good choice: Spyri was a well known author in the wizarding world, being the child of a squib and a muggle, and, therefore, was often read by the curious.

Heidi and Hotchpotch appeared rather pleased with their new names, bobbing their tiny heads as Neville and Hermione spoke to them, brushing their feathers with gentle fingers. ‘Grey’, of course, was far from being at a loose end; although some children occupied themselves with fussing over their own owls, those whose familiars were absent gave her plenty of tender attention.

Harry beamed at Hedwig, pressing his cheek to the top of her round, soft head “Your babies are going to be really happy, girl” he promised. Hedwig chuckled, looking over at ‘Clumsy’ being cradled in Neville’s gentle hands; she had been rather worried about that owlet, who was less than graceful and, even more embarrassingly, rather forgetful, but his appointed human appeared very taken with him. ‘Elegant’ also seemed in good hands; Hedwig knew that the brunette girl-human was very clever and kind. All they needed was a good home for ‘Curious’, as Hedwig and Xiao called their grey daughter. However, all these children already had owls. Hedwig really hoped that Harry would find a nice human for her final owlet.

oOoOo

On Saturday morning, Harry stood in the Owlery, nervously awaiting the arrival of Fred, George and Ron. Although Harry wasn’t worried, his Dad was lurking under his invisibility cloak, he was rather nervous. His Dad’s revelations a week ago had made Harry even more determined to bury the hatchet with Weasley; his brothers were decent blokes so, surely, Weasley must be alright underneath?

There was a pattering of footsteps and George burst in. “Hello Harry”

“We’ve brought you…” continued Fred, poking his head into the owlery.

“Our little…”

“Ronniekins.” finished Fred, shoving the beetroot red Ron towards Harry

“Lay off, guys” Harry grinned “Um, hello Wea…, er, Ron.”

“Hi” Ron replied truculently, glaring at his brothers.

“Um… so… do you want to see the owlet?” Harry asked, forcing a smile.

“Whatever.”

George elbowed Ron in the ribs and walked over to Harry “C’mon, Harry, show us the goods”

“She’s an owl, not ‘goods’” muttered Ron. Fred winked at Harry.

Harry smiled and led the three boys over to the perch, on which Hedwig and Xiao were roosting, with their three owlets sandwiched between them.

“Cool owl, Harry” George said, pointing at Xiao, who opened one eye and clicked his beak irritably.

“That’s Xiao, he’s Dad’s” Harry grinned.

“Guess the dungeons bat would have to have the most badass owl in the school” teased Fred.

“Oi!”

“He’s a crow, not a bat, Fred. Haven’t you seen his animagus” grinned George.

“A Black Eagle, actually” Harry said, a bit cross. He didn’t like people taking the mick out of his Dad.

“Fair enough…”

“So which one is for Ronniekins”

“Knock it off George” sniffed Ron.

“I’m Fred” laughed George.

“Whatever”

“I thought the Grey” Harry suggested tentatively, offering his finger as a perch for the little owl.

Ron’s expression lightened a little. The grey owl was definitely the coolest.

“Would you like to hold her?” Harry asked kindly, offering her to Ron.

“Okay” Ron replied, lifting up his eyes for the first time and looking at Harry’s face. He opened his hand and ‘Grey’ gently shuffled forward, blinking up at the young boy with gentle amber eyes.

Ron smiled at the little owl and stroked her soft, downy head.

“So, Harry, how’s the Exploring going?”

“Not too bad, we’ve found a couple of interesting passageways and I’ve finally visited the kitchens” Grinned Harry “The house-elves are dead nice.”

“Yeah, Mum would really like one” George grinned “All we’ve got is a lousy old ghoul.”

Harry grinned and Ron, who was rather sensitive about his family’s finances, said grumpily “Yeah, well, it’s alright for some.”

“Harry nodded, Mr and Mrs Malfoy have house-elves but I don’t think I’d like it much. It feels kind of wrong keeping, y’know, slaves.”

“Yeah, but house-elves enjoy working for wizards” chucked Fred.

“Maybe they just think they do” said Harry solemnly.

“How’d someone like you end up in Slytherin” Ron scoffed.

“Y’know, Slytherins aren’t all evil, Ron…” sighed Fred.

“The firsties seem alright” continued George.

“Yeah” Harry nodded earnestly “Most of the Slyths are really nice and Slytherin, he’s got a portrait, is really funny.”

“What” Ron gasped “You talk to him?” he asked appalled.

“Sure” Harry shrugged “It’s not as if he’s Dracula or anything.”

“Who?” Fred asked, looking confused.

“A really evil vampire in a book” Harry explained “Salazar’s dead nice. Y’know, the only reason he was worried about muggleborns is that so many of them used to become Witch-hunters.”

“Witch-hunters weren’t so tough” Ron sneered “All you have to do is cast a flame freezing charm.”

“That was only invented way later.” Harry said, rolling his eyes “Besides, the magical Witch-hunters knew all of the wizard's tricks. They sneaked up and killed people outright.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, and there were way more of them than us. Did you know that Slytherin’s family were all killed by an army of muggle warriors?”

“No way!”

“Yeah, there were so many of them that the mages’ couldn’t cast quickly enough and got their wands cut in half of broken.” Harry explained “It was alright, though, cos the wizards were abusing Slytherin and the muggles, Gryffindor's family rescued him. They took Slytherin and his mum in.”

“I never knew that” said Ron, looking amazed.

“Yeah, Slytherin didn’t hate muggles at all, he really liked them” Harry added, nodding earnestly.

Fred smirked “Well, got to head off. Detention with Filch over some dungbombs..”

“So, we’ll leave you guys to it” added George.

“Bye” Harry grinned.

“Yeah, bye. So, um, Harry, did Slytherin tell you anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Oh yeah, apparently it’s in Hogwarts somewhere” Harry evaded “Slytherin got the basilisk to protect Hogwarts from the muggle army.”

“Cool! So there really is a monster?” Ron asked, his blue eyes alight with interest.

“Yeah, a basilisk.” Harry replied, smiling “It’s okay, though, ‘cos he’s really nice… according to Slytherin, that is…”

While Saturday mornings were filled with Hagrid’s informal CoMC lessons, Harry’s Sunday evenings were spent at the Owlery, where Ron, Neville and Hermione were bonding with their owlets. Draco and, surprisingly, Blaise insisted that they accompany their fellow Slyths; Draco was not willing to trust ‘Weasley’ further than he could hex him and, while Blaise didn’t mind Ron’s previous taunting, he had a deep-seated abhorrence of men who hurt women, which resulted in a cold, resentful suspicion towards the boy who had once shoved Hermione.

However, despite his misgivings, Blaise was the more convivial of the two, filling Draco’s frosty silences with pleasant conversation and smoothing the edges off his sharp remarks with diplomatic addendums. Neville and Harry, who both saw the benefit in burying the hatchet, chatted with Ron about Quidditch and Theo, on discovering that Ron was a chess addict, brought along his chess-board and the pair spent many hours in fierce but increasingly friendly combat, each determined to win but to proud to prove bad losers if they lost. (Ron’s owlet loved sitting on his shoulder and watching the game, wittering happily when the pieces moved and jumping up and down in excitement if they smashed. The little owlet’s interest was so intense that Ron decided to name her Vivian, after Walter Vivian, a famous chess master, and happily declared her ‘well cool’.)

Ron also appeared to be on his best behaviour and, without Seamus and Dean to impress, he was considerably more friendly- although he was still slightly touchy and more than once Harry, Hermione and Blaise had to exert themselves to prevent Draco or Ron saying something that, well, they probably wouldn’t regret it but everyone else would. However, aside from their mutual jealousy over Harry, Ron and Draco’s love of Quidditch slowly coaxed them into conversation and, one great day, just before the Easter Holidays, Draco finally admitted that Ron was ‘alright for a Gryffindor’. (Neville had long been promoted to an honorary Slytherin.)

However, despite his active school and social life, Harry dedicated Saturday Evening and Sunday morning as ‘Dad and Harry’ time, where they cooked together, read and discussed books and, if too comfortably relaxed for any greater exertion, listened to records on Severus’ ancient radiogram. Harry enjoyed much of Severus’ music, especially that of Tom Lehrer, who was rather naughty, but they did have their disputes; although Harry liked waltzes and Beethoven, he found Mozart ‘boring’ and didn’t care at all for Opera. Severus, however, enjoyed their discussions and smiled to himself at how similar Harry was to his mother, who, while loving Gilbert and Sullivan, had been much of Harry’s opinion with regards to other operatic music.

Thus, the Easter Holidays, known amongst purebloods as Eostre’s Holiday, were soon upon them and, with Hedwig’s blessing, Hotchpotch, Heidi and Vivian left the nest, joining their new humans for the fortnight’s holiday. Harry was rather concerned about Hedwig, it seemed scarcely fair to break up her family, but Hagrid reassured him that the owlets were ready to try independence and, besides, Hedwig and Xiao could always visit their babies and, seeing that the children would be writing to each other, it appeared unlikely that more than two days would pass without a visit.

While, Harry’s family had diminished by the owlet’s departure, it was also to expand by one; Severus had accepted Lucius’s offer and on the first morning of Eostre’s Holiday, Severus slipped into Harry’s bedroom and tucked the fluffy, plump and, by now, somewhat larger pup beside his sleeping son. The drowsy puppy, scenting Harry, recalled the boy who had comforted him and snuggled closer. Harry turned and cuddled into the dog, who gently licked his nose with a velvety, bubblegum pink tongue. Harry opened his eyes and gasped in delight at the sight of the plush, dark-furred, leonine dog.

“Dad!”

“Yes Harry” smiled Severus, slipping out from behind the door, from whence he was watching, unseen.

“You got him!” cried Harry, grinning wildly “I thought Hagrid was joking!”

Severus smirked wryly “Lucius was most persuasive. He reminded me that Abraxus, on Lucius’ insistence, I have no doubt, had gifted me my first familiar and that it would be a great shame to nip such a fine tradition in the bud.”

“You had a dog?” Harry asked, looking at his father appraisingly. Severus’ slender form, sharp eyes and effortless grace rather reminded Harry of a jaguar.

“Yes” Severus smiled, his eyes sad “Whilst I was at Hogwarts, Abraxus looked after her for me during the day and, in the evening, sent a house-elf to convey her to the Slytherin dorms. During the holidays, she remained at the manor but, as Lucius claimed my company for much of the summer, we were never parted long.”

Harry smiled “What was her name?”

“Aurora, after Lily’s middle name, because of her stunning golden coat: she a product of careful selective breeding. Lucius wanted a dog whose fur was of the same hue as his hair and, having bred her, immediately gave her away to me.”

Struck by a sudden idea, Harry looked into his pup’s large, round eyes, which shone like melted chocolate. “I think Toby suits him, Dad” Harry ventured, looking shyly at his father.

Although Severus’ expression did not reflect his surprise, his eyes, usually dimmed by his occulumancy shields, brightened. “I agree, Harry” he replied softly.

Harry smiled “Can we take Toby on the beach?”

“After breakfast”

“Aww, Dad! I’m not hungry” Harry complained.

“No, Harry, but I expect Toby is” Severus said patiently. “As he is your dog, you will need to get used to taking care of him, which involves feeding him, grooming him and training him.”

“I thought dogs only ate once a day.”

“Puppies need extra meals. At this stage Toby should eat three times a day.”

“Okay” grinned Harry, bouncing out of bed “I’ll be down in a minute”

Shaking his head, Severus smiled and strode downstairs to make his son his favourite breakfast of the moment, egg and bacon muffin, and open Lucius’ carefully prepared package of puppy food. It had always struck Severus as the ultimate irony that the Malfoy men, who even relied on their house elves to shave them, would prepare bespoke puppy chow with their own, perfectly manicured hands. Then again, as the Bard once wrote “If thou remember'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.”

oOoOo

Severus stood back, smiling as his son introduced Toby to the sea. The little black pup slunk around Harry’s ankles, nervously regarding the water which was creeping, second by second, closer to Harry’s toes. When the sea was mere inches away, Toby decided that it had advanced far enough and barked a warning.

“It’s okay, Toby” Harry grinned, reaching forward and splashing his hand in the water. Toby concerned, jumped forward to wrest Harry away from the danger and, in doing so, planted his paws in the sea. Shocked, Toby bounced backwards and collided with Harry’s legs, sending them both tumbling into the soft sand.

*“Ssssilly wolfie, barksss at big water” psshed Reggie from his sunbathing rock, “Big water’sss for ssssswimming, not biting.”*

“Dumb mutt” Harry giggled, cuddling Toby.

“Perhaps he’d prefer chasing a ball” Severus suggested, picking up a small pebble and transfiguring it into a rubber chew-toy. He strode over to Toby and started throwing the ball from hand to hand, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched the pup’s chocolate gaze following the ball’s path. When Toby was bouncing on his paws, following the toy not just with his head but with his whole body, Severus threw the toy and, launching himself in the air Toby, raced after it, his fur rippling as his tiny muscles bunched and relaxed with his smooth, graceful gait.

The puppy returned with the toy, scrunching it happily in his mouth and, dropping the ball, sat down to chew his ‘kill’. Severus, however, was an old hand in this game and summoned the ball before Toby could grab it.

“Aww, poor Toby!” Harry laughed, his green eyes alight with amusement at the Pup’s confusion.

Severus smiled and, waving the toy to catch Toby’s attention, threw it again.

*“Why do you throw sssstone for Wolfling?”* Reggie asked curiously.

*“Wolflingsss like to play chassse. Hunting the stone like prey”* Severus hissed in return. Reggie flicked his tongue dismissively; you wouldn’t catch a snake doing anything so silly.

After a few cycles, Toby came to the conclusion that, as the big human would get the ball anyway, he might as well drop it at his feet; chasing the toy was the fun part, after all. When Toby threw the ball at Severus, Harry grinned at Severus in delight and ruffled Toby’s fur, telling him how clever he was. Toby grinned, his pink tongue hanging over bright, white teeth, and raced after the ball. When he returned, he carefully threw the ball at Harry’s feet.

“Dad! He chose me!”

“Of course, briards are very bright and Toby probably realised you’d like a turn” Severus said softly “Aurora always included everyone in her games, even if they did not wish to be” he added with a wry smile.

“Cool” Harry picked up the ball and threw it, smiling at Toby’s happy, shining eyes.

oOoOo

“Harry, don’t feed Toby at the table!”

“Draco always does” Harry replied pertly.

“And Mrs Malfoy always reprimands him. Human food is often too high in salt for dogs.”

“But Mr Malfoy knows everything about dogs and he gives his dogs human food.” Harry insisted, his eyes pleading “Toby’s still hungery.”

“Unlike Mr Malfoy, ‘puppy dog’ eyes do not work on me” Severus retorted “Toby has had a substantial meal of ground beef, carrots and rice. He is not hungry.”

“Harry, I saw that!” Severus snapped, a few minutes later.

“I just, er, dropped it.” Harry said, blushing.

“If you are going to lie, then lie convincingly.” his father replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t lying. It just, kind of, fell off my fork.” Harry insisted.

Severus sighed “The next time something ‘falls off your fork’, Toby will have to eat in the other room”

“That’s not fair!” Harry cried “He’s done nothing wrong!”

“No, and that is why he does not deserve obesity, dental decay, diabetes and joint problems” Severus replied firmly. “If you cannot be responsible, then I must.”

Harry glared at Severus, his eyes flashing, but as he couldn’t think of an effective argument, he stabbed viciously at his potato. Why was his Dad being so mean? The occasional treat wouldn’t hurt Toby.

oOoOo

“Toby!” Harry cried “What have you done to my shoe!”

Clutching the trainer between his large, soft paws, the pup looked up, confusion in his dark eyes.

“Bad Toby! Very Naughty!” Harry made a grab for the shoe but Toby bit hard into the leather, pulling back with all his strength.

Harry grabbed his wand “Rel…”

“Expelliarmus!” Severus snapped, wrenching the wand from his son “Harry, you should never hex a dog!”

“But he had my shoe!” Harry cried “Besides, it wouldn’t have hurt him!”

“Nevertheless, it is wrong to cast anything other than healing spells on animals” Severus said firmly. “Perhaps this will remind you to put your clothes in your wardrobe rather than leaving them over the floor!”

“It’s not my fault!” Harry replied, almost in tears. Those trainers had been a present

“Nor is it Toby’s. Leather smells rather like dried meat and puppies enjoy chewing as it helps their teeth.” Severus tapped the shoe “Clacius reparo.”

“Thanks Dad!” Harry grinned, taking back his repaired shoe. He bent down and stroked Toby’s soft, domed head “Sorry Toby.”

Severus nodded “Remember, Harry, Toby is very young and he does not understand the difference between his rubber toy and your shoe. If you frighten him, he will become nervous and unhappy.”

“I’d never harm him, Dad!” Harry retorted, his eyes hurt.

“I know, Harry” Severus said comfortingly, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder “But, if you shout at Toby and get upset, that can hurt him as much as a smack. You will need to be very patient.”

“Okay” Harry said sadly, picking up Toby and cuddling him. Toby licked Harry’s cheek, concerned by his boy’s sadness.

Severus smiled and ruffled Harry’s wayward hair “I have every confidence in you, Harry. Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to read some books on dog training.” Severus summoned a couple of volumes, one of which looked ancient “Here we have a book from Slytherin’s personal collection” he said “Written by Charlemagne; rumour has it that he kept briards. The other is a more recent addition”

“Wow” Harry grinned, looking at the beautiful, old book.

“Remember to place it in the draw of your bedside table.” Severus added with a smirk.

“Of course, Dad! I’m not daft!”

oOoOo

“Toby! Sit!”

Toby tilted his head to the side, gazing at Harry with confused brown eyes.

“Sit!” Harry repeated, pressing the pup’s bottom to the ground. As soon as he removed his hand, however, Toby stood up again.

“Sit! Toby, sit! Aww, Dad, he’s not listening!”

“Welcome to teaching” Severus said tartly, slashing a cross on the border of an essay.

“Daaad!”

“You will need to repeat the lesson a number of times, Harry” Severus said, looking up. “Try using a treat. We have some scraps of chicken in the larder.”

“Sit, Toby!” Harry said, pressing Toby’s bottom to the ground. Enthralled at the prospect of chicken, Toby remained sitting.

“Good boy!” Harry fed him the treat. Toby gulped it down and stood up.

“Sit!”

oOoOo

“Dad! Look at this!” Harry grinned, racing into the kitchen, his dog at his heels “Toby! Sit” the pup thumped his rear onto the tiles.

“Well done Harry” Severus smiled, as the dog snapped up his treat and leapt to his paws.

“I can’t get him to stay, though” sighed Harry “And he won’t sit unless he gets something.”

“He’s a clever boy” Severus said, the corner of his mouth quirking “Perhaps you should try teaching him to stay next.”

Harry sighed; dogs were hard work.

oOoOo

By the end of the week, Toby was sitting, staying and walking to heel, which Harry thought wasn’t bad progress considering that his mornings were devoted to revision. Working with Toby was fun, however, and Harry loved how his pup cuddled up to him or smiled at him with large, laughing eyes. Reggie, thankfully, wasn’t at all jealous of Toby; the ‘wolfling’ was no competition as far as the python was concerned- after all, he had to sleep down stairs while Reggie shared Harry’s bed!

Easter morning dawned bright and clear and Harry, to his delight, discovered that, on the crisp white cloth of the breakfast table, amid the Villeroy and Boch ‘Geranium’ porcelain, there were painted eggs in the egg-cups, a large, chocolate rabbit by his plate and, best of all, a huge platter of glossy, sticky hot-cross buns, fresh from the oven. Behind the vase of yellow and white freesias, Severus was drinking coffee, a tired smile on his face.

“Wow! Dad! This looks fantastic!” Harry beamed.

“I am glad you think so, Harry”

There was another wonderful surprise in store after breakfast. Instead of sitting down to revision, Harry was told to follow his father and, when he had ventured outside, saw an incongruous glimmer of purple. It turned out to be a foil wrapped egg.

“There are twenty five in total” Severus smirked, summoning a basket and handing it to Harry “Better start hunting.”

Thirty minutes later, Harry entered the house tired, hot and immensely happy. He had never done an Easter egg hunt before and it had been great fun tracking down the eggs, which had been hidden with all of Severus’ cunning. Running upstairs, Harry dumped the basket of chocolate on his bed and hurried down to help with lunch, which was his favourite: beef wellington.

As Harry polished off the last of his potatoes, he noticed that Toby was no longer lying under the table.

“Dad, have you seen Toby?”

“I thought he was here” Severus replied, frowning.

“Toby!” Harry called “Toby! Come here!”

There was a pounding of paws and Toby rushed into the room, a joyous grin on his face.

“Hiya Toby!” Harry laughed, taking the pup’s head in his hands “Hey! What’s this” Harry gently pulled the hard, crunchy thing from Toby’s beard. It was yellow foil.

“Harry, did you put your eggs away?” Severus asked sharply.

Wide eyed, Harry stared at his father, then at Toby, before rushing upstairs. He returned, white faced and holding the empty basket.

“Oh, Toby, you bad dog!” scolded Severus. “I have no potions which are safe for dogs so it’ll have to be the mustard.”

“Dad?”

“Chocolate is poisonous to dogs.”

“Oh no!” gasped Harry, his eyes frightened.

“It is not too late, yet, but we must get it out of his system” Severus said gravely, summoning a bottle. He spooned a few tablespoons of hot, English mustard into the bottle before filling it with water and, stoppering it, shook it vigorously. “Come, dog” he said, grasping Toby’s collar firmly and leading him outside.

Toby, it appeared, did not appreciate the mustard cocktail and tried his hardest not to drink it but Severus, knowing that this might be a matter of life and death, held the pup between his legs and poured the mixture down his throat. A minute later, Toby was heartily sick.

Then Harry, on seeing the vomit, also threw up.

Leading the resentful dog, whose eyes were clearly calling the Potions Master every bad name in the canine vocabulary, and his miserable son inside, Severus wondered what had possessed him to celebrate Easter in the first place.

oOoOo

The rest of the Holidays progressed somewhat more successfully. Toby, while not forgiving Severus, appeared otherwise unaffected by his chocolate binge and Harry’s spirits quickly returned; Toby was fine and, after all, Harry still had his chocolate rabbit.

After a week of revision, dog training and swimming, it was with a heavy heart that Harry considered their visit to the Malfoy’s that Sunday. Severus, Harry and Toby were invited to afternoon tea but, when they left for Hogwarts, Toby was to stay behind. Harry felt it very hard on him and it took all of Draco’s joy at seeing Harry and Toby's pleasure at being amid his relatives to make the afternoon bearable. However, when the time came to part, Harry could scarcely bear to leave and stood beside the floo looking at Toby with tearful eyes.

Lucius, noticing Harry’s anguish, patted the sorrowful boy on the shoulder “There, there, old chap. He’ll be waiting for you with your father tomorrow evening.”

Harry sighed and hugged Toby, burying his face in the pup’s soft shoulder, before running through the floo to Hogwarts. Severus watched his son vanish through the flames, his eyes concerned.

“It’s always hard, Severus” Lucius said quietly “I suffered the same as a lad. However, Harry will soon be amongst his friends. He’ll perk up.”

Severus nodded uncertainly and, clasping Lucius’ hand followed Harry to Hogwarts.

oOoOo

At the staff table, Severus observed Harry sitting between Hermione and Draco. They young girl was smiling and talking enthusiastically, obviously about her owl, and Harry was not just smiling but actually laughing at some of the anecdotes. Draco was also demanding Harry’s attention, chatting away nineteen to the dozen.

Severus smiled; children, in some ways, were ever the same.

April blew by, blustery, damp and grey; inside the castle, the children stared outside mournfully, as rain pattered on the window panes, sighed, and turned back to their school-work, wondering if the summer would ever come.

However, there were a few rays of sunlight. At the start of the month, Harry’s End of Term Report was given to Severus, which was a special occasion for both father and son as, for Severus, it was a first time he received his son’s School Report and, for Harry, he had the delight of sharing his success with a parent. In previous years, the delivery of his School Reports had always been a fraught time for Harry; as it was almost impossible not to do rather better than Dudley, the Report ensured Petunia’s spite and, even though Vernon did his best, he would always look a little sad when he congratulated him. Now, however, Harry had a proud father to please with his success and the line of plump ‘Os’, freckled with the occasional ‘E’ and, the worst blemish of all, Quirrell’s ‘A’, was regarded by Severus with a satisfaction which made Harry feel warm inside. When his father picked up his quill and replaced the embarrassing ‘A’ with an ‘O’, Harry’s happiness was complete.

The second happy event was in the penultimate week, when Hagrid’s dragon hatched. Professor Kettleburn, who was very much of Hagrid’s opinion that a hatching dragon egg was a far more important event than any lesson, begged Professors Sprout, Binns and Snape to allow their respective students the period off and, after a few murmurs and wearied head-shaking from the teachers, Professor Kettleburn accompanied the Slytherin first years, Marcus Flint, Neville, Fred, George and Ron to Hagrid’s hut.

As soon as they knocked on the door, Hagrid flung it open, grinning wildly and flushed with excitement.

“Come in, come in” the large man beamed “Yeh all in the nick of time!”

The children gathered around the table, on which the egg was lying, surrounded by a wall of damp, rolled up tea towels. Every now and again, the egg rocked a little, bumping into the cloths.

“What’s that scratching sound” Ron asked, leaning closer. Draco harrumphed and crossed his arms.

“The lil-le dragon’s eager to come out, Ron” Hagrid explained kindly “Ee’s peckin’ at the inner of ‘is egg.”

“Yes, indeed!” cried Professor Kettleburn, his wooden leg tapping against the floor as he bounced on his remaining toes “The dragonet uses it’s wing-spars and beak to erode the egg, thus creating fault-lines and, ultimately, weakening the overall structure. This enables the dragonet to break the egg using the strength of it’s shoulders and wings.”

Hagrid nodded happily “I’m righ’ pleased you’re here, Silvanus. You know how to explain things right enough.”

The elderly professor smiled “A lifetime of teaching, my boy. All one really needs is enthusiasm for one’s subject and a sense of humour, the rest comes in time.” he added kindly.

“Look, Hagrid” cried Hermione “A crack!”

“Ah! He’s really coming, he is!” gasped Hagrid, twinkling away a tear.

The children watched the egg with wide eyes and bated breath. Slowly, cracks started to form and the scratching and rocking became more vigorous.

Marcus Flint grinned at Pansy and Tracy, who were beginning to look rather bored “This ere is much more interestin’ than watchin’ sheep lambin’” he smirked “At least we can see what’s going on.” Milly, whose mother bred kneazles, nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, poor li-il thing’s gonna be righ’ tired by the end of it. It’s a hard business, being born” said Hagrid.

“But… it’s natural” said Pansy, in a scandalised voice.

“So is starving to death, dear girl” Professor Kettleburn said sagely “Nature is neither sweet nor gentle, which is why we live in houses rather than trees and farm rather than forage.”

Suddenly, the egg stopped moving and the scraping ceased. Hagrid clasped the back of a chair, staring at the egg with concerned eyes.

“He’s probably just taking a rest, Hagrid” Blaise soothed “Snakes sometimes need to rest during their hatching.”

“And dragons and snakes are close relatives” piped up Hermione.

Hagrid nodded, his eyes fixed on the egg, willing it to start moving again. After ten minutes, there was a crunch as the chair crumpled under his fingers.

There was a sharp tap and the egg started rocking again.

Hagrid sighed in relief “I thought…” he choked.

Harry patted Hagrid’s arm, nodding empathically. Hagrid was longing for his dragonet to arrive and, naturally, the hope and fear were more or less equal.

After twenty minutes of determined rocking, tapping and scraping, the egg suddenly split open and a small, leathery little dragon flopped onto the table. Although not exactly pretty, the dragonet was sweet, in a rather comical way: with his small, thin body, the dragon’s large, crumpled black wings looked as out of proportion as his tiny, angular head made the wide, round nostrils and bulbous, orange eyes. Wearily, the dragon looked around the assembled humans and sneezed, sparks flying out of his nostrils.

“Isn’ he beautiful” sighed Hagrid, reaching out to the tiny reptile.

“Hagrid, I think this little one would appreciate a meal.” Professor Kettleburn said quietly.

“Ah, yes, yeh, righ’” Hagrid beamed “Forget me own head”

“Watching a dragon hatch is an exciting time, indeed.” nodded Professor Kettleburn kindly.

Hagrid walked over to his larder and pulled out a bottle of reddish liquid. He filled a leather bottle and tentatively offered the lip of it to the little dragon, who, after sniffing cautiously at his hand, lapped at the liquid and, licking his lips, began to suckle happily.

“Aww, he likes it!”

"What is that stuff, Hagrid!" Theo asked curiously.

"Brandy and chicken blood, good feed for li-il dragons." Hagrid grinned.

“Indeed.” Professor Kettleburn beamed, ignoring repulsed expressions which many of those present wore. “Now, children, it is time for us to return for lunch.”

“Aww, Professor!” Draco and Ron moaned in unison, then looked rather embarrassed.

“Hagrid must have time to bond with his dragon.” Professor Kettleburn said firmly. “Chop chop, or you won’t get any dessert.”

oOoOo

Over the next few weeks, Hagrid’s relationship with his dragonet flourished. The little reptile had readily accepted Hagrid as his parent and, although misunderstandings did happen, they were few and far between. Hagrid glowed with pride, believing that, under Professor Kettleburn’s steady guidance, he was rearing the best behaved little dragon in the whole of Scotland. Severus, naturally, saw no need to dim Hagrid’s joy by telling him that the young dragon was under the guidance of a Parselmouth.

Thus, the only hiccough was over the dragonet’s name; Hagrid, thinking his Norwegian Ridgeback was a male, had named him Norbert, much to Draco’s despair and Pansy’s amusement. However, when Mr MacFusty visited, Norbert was discovered to be a female, necessitating a swift change of name. Daphne, with more kindness than accuracy, suggested Belinda, which meant ‘beautiful dragon’; Hagrid, delighted, immediately renamed his ‘daughter’ and boasted to all who would listen about how well it suited her. The young Slytherins were amused and somewhat relieved; ‘Belinda’ might suggest rosy cheeks, blue eyes and flaxen bunches, but it was a far more fitting name for a regal dragon than ‘Norbert’!

Exam fever had hit Hogwarts: throughout the school, children walked around in zombie like dazes, their gazes cast upwards as they listed potions ingredients, replayed goblin rebellions and cast spells in their heads. The Hufflepuffs, whose hardworking attitude and respect for their professors gave them good study habits, were the most relaxed, sensibly dispersing study periods with breaks to avoid fatigue. The inquisitive, intelligent Ravenclaws, most of whom read their school-books for pleasure, were also calm, using their morning breaks to revise and their lunchtimes to pool ideas at the dining table. The Gryffs, on the other hand, were, generally speaking, the most panicked House: frantically reading as they shovelled down their meals, running back to their tower the minute classes were over and generally cramming every spare moment with revision. Some even visited the library.

The ambitious Slyths, who despite having read as much as the Ravens and revised as diligently as the Puffs, were, as a rule, almost as anxious as the Gryffindors and while pride prevented their outwardly calm facades from slipping and common sense insisted that they take regular breaks from their study, the little snakes' heads were practically buzzing as they fought to keep millions of factoids from scuttling out of their brains. Theo had actually woken up screaming in the last week of May, having dreamt that he had missed his first exam. After the initial alarm, Draco had teased Theo amicably for being such a swot- only to wake up in considerable distress after a dream in which he opened his results to find ‘T’s.

In such circumstances, Hagrid’s dragon, Belinda was a very welcome distraction and Harry, Blaise, Theo Draco and Hermione spent their carefully apportioned ‘leisure time’ walking down to Hagrid’s hut and listening to his funny anecdotes: Belinda was now bigger than his hut, consumed three sheep a day and was, in Hagrid’s words ‘a righ’ clever lass.' Having had a few facts of life explained to her, such as the fragility of human bodies and Hagrid’s adoration, Belinda, who was a good-hearted, if rather dim dragon, did her best to be gentle around the Game Keeper and, despite the fact that dragons are usually solitary, she had, gradually, come to accept Hagrid as a friend. Now, Belinda’s greatest delight was showing off her air-acrobatics to Hagrid, who whooped and clapped and praised her lavishly, much to her delight, and feed her caramelised hams, which Belinda munched like sugar-cubes.

While the anecdotes were invariably entertaining, if the children called whilst Mr MacFusty was with Hagrid, they were escorted down to the forest to visit Belinda. There is nothing more beautiful and majestic than a dragon in flight and, whilst clumsy on terra firma, Belinda danced in the air, somersaulting, barrel-rolling, spiralling downwards in tight circles or, sometimes, all three at once. When Belinda didn’t fly, the children stood outside her warded enclosure, watching her puffing intricate smoke spirals, rings, balls, pear-shapes, ovals and mushrooms. The red-bearded Mr MacFusty explained the nuances of each shape and what they would indicate to watching dragons: although dragons could understand Parseltongue, amongst their own species smoke signals were most commonly used: they could be seen from a long distance and, when you’re talking to a Hungarian Horntail, this is a definite benefit.

Out in the bright, flower-scented, summer air, flanked by two wizards, whose power, both physical and magical, assured the children of their safety, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Blaise and Theo watched Belinda play and, in doing so, almost forgot that their dreaded exams were drawing near.

OoOoO

Like all nightmare beasts, the exams, when they arrived, were not anyway near as intimidating as their approaching shadow had been. In fact, when Harry sat down to his paper, he soon realised that the heat was worse than the questions, which flowed from his pen like water. Of course, as soon as he left the exam room, Harry remembered something that he should or, worst still, should not have written but, after the first paper, Blaise firmly vetoed further post-mortems of their exam papers; there were only so many times, Blaise said, that his ears drums could withstand having Hermione screeching in one and Draco wailing in the other.

The practical exams, on the other hand, were wholly successful: under Professor Dumbledore’s tranquil gaze, Harry prepped his ingredients and brewed a perfect Forgetfulness Potion without having to pause for thought, his pineapple tap-danced perfectly in time and Harry, grinning cheekily, even charmed it to bow at the end of it’s performance and, after noticing the pretty cloisonné cat decoration on his snuff box, even the dour Professor McGonagall smiled.

The other Slytherins’ practicals were equally successful and it was with a light heart that Harry entered their final exam, History of Magic. While Binns bored them half to death, the Slyths were particularly lucky in having an avid historian: Greg loved history which, in his own words, was ‘just remember’n stuff what happened an’ why it happened”. As it was one of the few subjects in which he was talented, Greg studied hard and contributed to the study group by retelling history; at first, the accounts had been short and simple but Greg was a good storyteller and, with a little encouragement, his contributions flourished into vivid, living stories in which historical figures were characters with whom the other children could relate. Unsurprisingly, the Slyths found these histories far easier to remember than Binns’ dry facts, which went in one ear and out the other, and, when Harry sat down to his paper, he scribbled away with enthusiasm, his mind full of the time-saving devises of Gaspard Shingleton, who had invented the self-stirring cauldron because his wife, Alexis, had died during a Quidditch match, leaving the poor potioneer to raise several children and earn a living concurrently.

Seemingly seconds after the exam had begun, Professor Binns’ voice echoed through the hall, telling them to put down their quills and roll up their parchments. Harry threw down his quill and grinned over at Draco; goodbye exams, hello summer holiday!

“That was a breeze” sighed Theo as they slouched out of the exam room, hands deep in their pockets and shoulders back.

“Yeah” grinned Draco “I remembered everything. Thanks Greg”

“Yeah, cheers Greg!”

“Don’t mention it” flushed Greg, staring at his shoes.

“Thank Gods the exams are over, though” sighed Milly “I thought my brain would burst”

“Me too” Harry added, nodding. “It actually feels quite strange to not have to revise for anything.”

“Yeah” nodded Vin, emphatically “Can’t wait to get out my paints: I’ve not done art for ages.”

“Hey, why don’t we grab some food and have a picnic beside the lake” Blaise suggested.

“Yeah” grinned Tracy “It’s been ages since I did that.”

Noticing that Vin looked torn, Pansy said “The lake’s really beautiful, you could paint that.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan”

“Dad’s sent us a box of ice creams” beamed Draco “We can take those along too”

Harry slapped his hand against his forehead.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“My quill! I left the quill nib Draco’s dad bought me in the exam room!

“Damn, and it’s on the sixth floor.” Theo sighed; they had just stepped into the entrance hall and their clothes were sticky with perspiration.

“Don’t worry” Harry grinned “I’ll nip up and get it. You set up the picnic.”

“I’d come with you but my trunk’s locked and the ice-cream’s inside it” said Draco, frowning.

“Don’t worry.” Harry smiled “I’ll see you in a bit.”

OoOoO

Running up two floors, Harry span into the girls’ bathroom and gratefully slid into the cool, soft light of the Chamber of Secrets. As the Secret Room had another entrance here, it was a fantastic short-cut for the towers and Hissy was always pleased to have a chat.

“Harry, hatching, you sssssmell of sssssalt and your sssscales are damp”

“Hi Hisssssy” Harry turned, looking up at the handsome, pyriform face of the king of serpents. “I’ve been sssssssitting in a hot nessst all afternoon”

“Poor Harry. Poor little baked hatchling. I will carry you.” Hissy offered, indicating his soft, broad back. “Hop on, little one.”

Riding through the beautiful Chamber on the back of a basilisk, the wind ruffling his damp hair, Harry felt glad to be alive.

oOoOo

When Harry stepped out of the Secret Room, however, he was not on the sixth floor but, strangely enough, in a part of the school he’d never seen before: a short, straight, stone passageway with long, very thin windows. Harry's surprise was such that he just stood and stared, not remembering to catch the door before it was too late.

Stranded in a strange and eerily empty part of the castle, Harry sighed and started traipsing down the corridor, feeling very hard done by. Why did the stupid room choose today, of all days, to malfunction. Dumb thing.

*“Tonight, tonight! Quirrell! I will not ssssssstand further procrassssstination!”* someone spat in Parseltongue.

Harry gasped; that voice! Unknown yet horribly familiar! Harry’s instinct flared; he should not be here. With nowhere to run, the terrified boy quickly hid himself behind a tapestry.

*“Masssster, pleassse. We are not ssssssufficiently prepared.”* sssched a second voice.

*“The ancient one and the traitor are gone, the Ssssssstone issss within your grasssp. I refusssse to accept your inssssssssubordination.”

“Arrrrrrrrgh!”

*“The Sssssssssstone. Tonight. I refussssse to live thissssss half-life a day longer!”*

Wide eyed, Harry pressed himself against the cool stone wall, sweat dripping down his face in rivulets, too horrified to even breathe.

Someone, someone who every instinct told him to fear, was going to steal the Philosopher’s Stone.

Harry slipped out from behind the tapestry; there was a long, very thin window about a dozen yards down the corridor. When Harry looked out, he experienced vertigo for the first time in his life. Damn. And he was on the opposite side of the castle, too.

Racing around the corner, Harry discovered two staircases, twisting in opposite directions, one up into a tower, the other down into Hogwarts. Bracing himself for a long descent, Harry jogged down, his fingers skimming the smooth, cool walls.

oOoOo

An hour later, exhausted both emotionally and physically, Harry collapsed into Severus’ office. However, his father was not marking at his desk, cooking or even brewing in his private lab and, when Harry, frantic with worry, burst into Severus’ ebony furnished bedroom, he only found yet another empty room.

Slouching back into the Sitting-room, Harry thumped down in an armchair, taking gulping breaths to fight off the rising panic. Where was his Dad?

After a minute, Harry sat up and his gaze aligned on an incongruous roll of parchment on the mantelpiece. Harry stood up and immediately noticed his name was written upon it.

“Dear Harry,

If you are reading this, I expect that you have called by to celebrate the end of your first-year exams. Most unfortunately, I have been called away and I doubt that it will be in my power to return tonight. A parent of one of the children in our House, I cannot disclose whom, has been killed and I must remove the child’s remaining family to a safe location and further secure the property. I am afraid that I will not be back this evening and may well have to remain away until dawn.

I am very sorry to miss this important event in your life and I hope you have a lovely evening with your friends. I am very proud of you.

Your father,

Severus Snape.”

Harry bit his lip, telling himself that he was eleven and, therefore, should not cry like a baby just because his Dad wasn’t there to coddle him. After all, the person who'd died... it probably wasn’t the parent of anyone he knew very well; Draco’s dad was well powerful and Mr Nott was smart and… Shaking his head to banish the terrible, haunting ideas assailing his mind, Harry swallowed convulsively and scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Dumbledore. If his Dad wasn’t around, Dumbledore would be the next best person to go to.

oOoOo

“What do you mean he’s not in?!”

“Had to go orf, kid” drawled the stone goblin outside the Headmaster’s office. “Whatchoo gonna do? He’s a busy guy.”

Harry shook his head, this was a nightmare. “When’s he going to be back?”

“Dint tell me, kid: I’m just a glorified doorstop. An, if he did, I probly shouldn’t tell you.”

Harry looked at the statue in despair but was little comforted when the stone goblin, in compassion, added “He had an overnight bag, kid, stuffed inta his pocket and he seemed in a hurry. Best I can do.”

This was terrible. No father, no Headmaster and whom else, amongst the Professors, could Harry trust? Quirrell was in league with the thief, so perhaps other teachers were too. And wouldn’t it just be Harry’s luck to go to the wrong person. So who could he trust? Going to Madam Pomfrey was no good; she’d just lock him in the Infirmary and approach McGonagall but, if the Deputy Head was also in on it…

Hagrid, of course, was another possibility: the Game Keeper would sooner die than betray the Headmaster but, although he was very strong, he didn’t have a wand and something told Harry that the thief was dead dangerous. He couldn’t live with himself if…

No, no, stay focused. Professor Kettleburn; he was definitely trustworthy. However one leg, half an arm and, rumour had it that Kettleburn had to hold his wand in his teeth... He'd just tell some other teacher and then they’d hit the same problem.

Professor Burbage was dead nice but… how well did Harry actually know her? What if she was just being kind to smarm up to him and his Dad? Petunia did that to other parents all the time; treated them like her best friend to their face, only to bitch about them later. And, although most Dark Wizards were blood supremacist… No, it wasn’t worth the risk.

But… a little voice in his head whispered. There is one person whom you can trust: yourself.

oOoOo

“Harry! Where the blue blazes have you been!” called Draco, as Harry entered the Serpent’s Nest.

Harry paused: should he reveal all? If Draco or the others knew what he was planning, they’d want to help and, thereby, place themselves in danger. Mortal danger at that.

“I’m sorry” Harry said, forcing a smile “I was just held up with Filch, caught me running in the corridors and made me spend an hour polishing trophies.”

“Aww!”

"That's so unfair!"

“The dick!”

“Draco!” Pansy and Hermione chorused, outraged.

“What?!”

“You shouldn’t swear!”

“Such a common word!”

“Flich doesn’t deserve any better” Blaise said quellingly. “Come here, Harry, have an ice-cream."

"You look done in.” added Theo.

“We saved you your favourite” smiled Milly, blushing.

“Thanks!” Harry replied, sitting down. As the other children chattered, Harry plotted. Severus kept his invisibility cloak on top of his bedroom wardrobe; while Harry would never normally nick stuff, even his own things, like that, this was a special, once-in-a-lifetime situation. Right. And, as the Secret Room didn’t work last time, Harry’d have to get past Fluffy. He couldn’t risk asking Hagrid so he’d need some music. Would whistling work? It had better. Okay…

“You okay, Harry?” asked Tracy, noticing Harry was staring blankly at his melting ice-cream.

“Yeah, fine” Harry smiled, taking a bite of pistachio “No problems at all.”

oOoOo

At quarter to eleven, Harry’s dormitory was dark, but for the light of the low fire, and silent, save for Greg’s whuffling snores. Hidden by the heavy curtains of his bed, Harry, who had been lying with wide eyes and rapidly beating heart, suddenly sat up. Pulling off his pyjamas, the eleven year old dressed quickly and quietly in his duelling gear; a lightweight shirt and tracksuit bottoms, both of which were woven with substantial shield charms. His invisibility cloak under his arm and shoes in hand, Harry slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Slowly, carefully, wincing at the slightest of creaks, Harry opened the door and, pulling on his cloak, slipped into the Slytherin common room.

“Heidi! Where are you going?!”

Before Harry could register what was happening, much less work out how to avoid it, a small, fluffy white cannonball flew towards him; Heidi had sensed Harry and in flying to greet him, her claws caught his cloak, wrenching the hood clean off his head.

“Err… Hi Hermione.” Harry said; feeling, along with the fear and frustration of being thwarted, exceptionally embarrassed.

“Harry! What are you doing up?” Hermione took in his appearance or, rather, the lack of any below his head “I thought your father had confiscated that” she added, frowning at the space where Harry’s body should have been.

“Um… well, I…”

“What’s going on, Harry?” Hermione asked, suspiciously.

Sighing, Harry walked over to where Hermione was sitting and dropped into a chair beside her: it was pointless to dissemble, he couldn't tell a barefaced lie, not to Hermione. Having cast, muffliato Harry explained the situation. Around two thirds of the way in, Hermione’s expression changed from alarm to incredulous anger.

“Harry James Potter-Snape, do you mean to tell me that you were planning on facing this thief who, for all we know, could be a Dark Wizard, on your own!”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly take you along! You could get hurt!” Harry replied, his eyes blazing.

“I could… Oh Harry Potter-Snape you are the limit! The absolute limit! You! Are! Eleven! Years! Old!” Hermione cried, jumping up and stamping her foot.

“So!”

“So you should have gone to a teacher!”

“I tried! Dad and Dumbledore are out all night!” Harry replied angrily.

“There are other teachers, you know!" Hermione stormed "What about McGonagall, she’s the Deputy-Head!”

“She might be in on it too! Quirrell is!”

“Oh..! Well, what about Hagrid? Surely you trust him” Hermione snapped irritably, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“He hasn’t got a wand!”

“And you’re eleven, Harry! Eleven! We’ve scarcely completed our first year!”

“I’m powerful!" Harry insisted "I dealt with that Cerberus!”

“Oh for heavens…” Hermione shook her head “Why didn’t you tell Mr Malfoy, then? Draco could have contacted him in a minute! He’s a powerful wizard and a school Governor, so the wards would allow him right through.”

“Oh…” Harry flushed. He hadn’t even considered that. “Well, what matters is that while we’re here chatting, some Dark Wizard is stealing the Stone.”

“Let him” Hermione ground out, crossing her arms and fixing Harry with a steely glare.

“What!” Harry goggled.

“Your life is worth more than some stupid Stone, Harry Potter-Snape!”

“But what… But what if it’s Voldemort!” Harry whispered, only now admitting the suspicion which had been gnawing at the back of his mind.

“Oh come on! Voldemort is dead.”

“The guy... The guy talking to Quirrell could speak Parseltongue.” Harry confided quietly.

Hermione’s smirk slipped “How do you know?”

“Guess!” Harry snarled “Voldemort was a Parselmouth, Hermione.” A piece of information clunked into place in Harry’s brain “Someone’s been killing unicorns- only someone who is absolutely evil and determined to cling to life at all costs would do that! What if Voldemort didn’t die, not fully at least. What if he wants the Elixir to bring him back to health?! The bludger that almost killed me, Quirrell was at that match, it could have been him!”

“Its… well, we have no firm proof…” Hermione said, looking concerned.

“Please, Hermione, I’ve got to stop him” Harry begged, his green eyes imploring.

Hermione bit her lip “Very well, but you’re not going alone.”

“But…”

“No, Harry. We all go or no one goes.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Hermione renewed her steely glare and Harry just knew that there was no alternative but to accept.

“Okay,” he sighed “I’ll wake Blaise, Draco and Theo.”

oOoOo

“So, basically you were about to run off and fight not just any adult but a Dark Wizard and, let’s be absolutely clear, a Dark wizard who might just be Voldemort by your little, eleven-year old self?” Blaise said, arms folded and eyebrow raised.

“Errr…” Harry realised that Blaise reminded him a lot of his Dad at times.

Draco glared at Harry “Not a word, Potter-Snape. Not a single word. You are a complete and utter… I am so mad at you, you absolute… Gryffindork!” he cried shrilly.

“How could you be so dumb, Harry” sighed Theo, shaking his head. "Okay, I get this is important but there is such a thing as safety in numbers!"

“Look, I’m sorry." Harry cried "I know I acted a total Gryffindork but…”

“Yes, yes, we know” Hermione said calmly, patting Harry on the shoulder: the boys’ anger seemed to have purged her own. “Now, let’s floo Malfoy Manor.”

Glaring at Harry, Draco stomped over and threw a handful of powder in the fire “Father! Mother!”

There was a long silence and, suddenly, Dobby popped his head out of the fire “Master Draco?”

“Where are my parents, Dobby?”

“Away, Master Draco.” Dobby muttered.

“Well, go and get them!” Draco said irritably.

“They is not telling Dobby wheres they have gone.” Dobby replied mournfully.

“Oh! Off with you! And when they get back, tell Dad he’s needed here!”

“Yes, Master Draco.”

Blaise looked at Harry “Lucius is the only Parent Governor in Slytherin, Harry. I think it’s time to get going if we’re to stop whomever it is.”

Harry was afraid, not for himself but for his friends, he couldn't bear it if anything happened to them because of him. “You don’t have to c…”

“Shut it, Harry” snapped Draco.

“We’re not going to let you go alone Harry and that’s final” added Hermione.

“Let’s stop by the Secret room first, though.” Draco said thoughtfully “I have an idea.”

"The Secret Room is on the Seventh floor!" Blaise pointed out "We won't all fit under Harry's cloak!"

"Um, my Dad taught me how to do a disillusionment charm" Theo said quietly. "Just in case, you know."

"Mine too." admitted Draco.

"That's great" beamed Hermione.

Smiling wryly, Blaise nodded. "Okay, so Harry, Hermione and I take the cloak; it should just fit three."

As Draco and Theo prepared to dissillusion themselves, Hermione asked "Why didn't you teach us how to do this during our DA sessions?"

"It's dead useful" added Harry.

Draco paused "Only spies and criminals use Dissillusionment charms, Hermione" he replied softly.

"That must make us spies, then" grinned Blaise "Come on, let's go."

“Blaise! Put that down!” Hermione insisted “You’ll hurt yourself!”

“Hermione, as Purebloods, we have, naturally, been instructed in the art of fencing” Draco said loftily, dropping his stiletto dagger and looking around for something more… impressive.

*“Harry hatchling”* Harry turned, recognising Salazar’s voice, and noticed a small golden dagger (with a familiar serpentine, emerald ‘S’ on the hilt). He slipped it into his pocket.

“I knew it was a bad idea to ask the Secret Room for weapons” Theo sighed nudging a gigantic club with his toe.

“Well I think it was a very good idea” snapped Draco “It was one of mine, after all.”

“Now, has everyone got their mirrors?” Harry asked, anxious to avoid a further argument.

“Yup.”

“And I’ve got my recorder” sniffed Hermione, as Draco, with a look of triumph, dragged a huge, ruby-hilted, silver broadsword out from a pile of miscellaneous blades.

“Everyone know a spell to reattach severed limbs?” Harry asked, torn between amusement and concern.

“Nope” Blaise sighed, reverently setting the katana aside and selecting, instead, a slender dagger “Come on, let’s go.”

“Before Draco picks up the shotgun” Hermione muttered under her breath “Boys!”

oOoOo

When the children-all minus swords, save Draco- reached the door which opened into Fluffy’s Corridor, they discovered, much to Harry’s consternation, that it was ajar.

“We’re too late” murmured Harry, his voice suffused with despair.

“We might not be.” whispered Hermione “I bet the stone’s really well guarded. He might not have got there yet.”

Peering into the darkness beyond the door, Harry swallowed; the enormity of what he'd convinced his friends to follow him into suddenly stuck him. “Look, um, if anyone wants to go back, I won’t blame them or anything…”

“Blaise, please kick Harry for me.” Draco’s voice hissed.

“Tempting.” Blaise whispered, making no move to obey Draco's request. “Okay, Hermione, have you got your recorder ready”

“Yeah,” the young girl whispered, holding the instrument to her lips.

“Okay. Let's go.”

Harry pushed the door fully open and the children slipped inside. It seemed that the door's jarring creak had awoken Fluffy, who growled; six orange eyes looked towards the door and three huge, black noses twitched, sniffing determinedly in their direction.

Hermione placed the recorder to her lips and played ‘Mary had a little lamb”

The Cerberus’ growling ceased and a smile tugged at the corners of each of his slavering mauls. Eyes drooping, the great beast stumbled and rolled over onto his back, his legs in the air and eyes shut. Fluffy began to snore.

“He’s kind of sweet like that” Theo joked, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Look” Blaise hissed “There’s a trapdoor just behind him”

“And a harp!” Harry added “Quirrell must have left it.”

Amid the somewhat jerky strains of Hermione’s music, the children tiptoed towards the trap-door. Draco cast finite and, grabbing the ring which topped the square of wood, hauled the trapdoor open.

“I’m going first!” insisted Harry, staring into the blackness.

Draco opened his mouth, a furious expression on his face, and Blaise quickly said “Let’s see what’s down there first. Lumos!”

In the pale wandlight, the anaemic tendrils of Devil’s Snare coiled back as if burnt.

“Right” Theo said, reappearing next to Draco “Sprout obviously arranged this one.”

“Let’s send down some fire” grinned Draco, bluebell flames balling around the end of his wand.

“Whatiftheplantbreaksthefall” shot Hermione, before hastily continuing her tune.

“Huh?”

“The plant may break the fall” interpreted Harry.

“Right” Blaise said thoughtfully “Okay, well, let’s all get our flames ready, then jump.”

Harry nodded and, grasping his wand, stepped into the blackness. As soon as he hit the soft bed of creepers, the Devil’s Snare’s tendrils began coiling around his legs. Harry’s wand flared and, as the plant slithered away, Harry took in his surroundings.

“There’s a passageway” he called up to his friends’ concerned faces, “It’s to the left.”

Blaise, Draco, Theo and finally Hermione dropped onto the soft vines of the increasingly battered Devil’s Snare who, by now, was flinching at the slightest glimmer of light. Dusting themselves off, the children entered the stone passageway.

The corridor was unpleasantly gloomy: no light, save for that of their wands, no sound, save for their muffled footsteps, the echoing drip of water and the occasional clunk as Draco’s heavy broadsword knocked against the craggy walls. The passageway sloped downwards and Harry found himself thinking of Gringotts and wondered, for a horrible second, if they might meet a dragon. However, he held his peace; sharing a worry doesn’t always half it- sometimes the worry multiplies.

After walking for what felt like a hours- but was probably closer to five minutes- the children started to hear a faint rustling and clinking, which became louder, by degrees, the further they walked.

“Sounds like wings” said Blaise thoughtfully.

“Recon they’ve got a Kludde?” asked Theo with a strained grin.

“Not likely, Hagrid doesn’t get along with them” Harry replied, trying his best to sound assured.

“It’s getting lighter!” Hermione whispered “I think we’re close to the exit.”

Their wands clasped tight in their hands, the children stepped toward the doorway.

“I’ll go first” Draco said, unsheaving his sword, which glittered keenly.

“Be careful” whispered Hermione.

Draco leapt into the brightly-lit room, the ceiling of which was swarming with small, fluttering birds. To Draco’s eternal gratitude, they totally ignored him.

“They’re just birds” Draco called, relief surging in his voice, “They’re not attacking or anything.”

Theo, Harry, Blaise and Hermione cautiously stepped into the room, squinting as their eyes protested at the bright light.

“You recon they’re dangerous?” Theo asked, peering up at the fluttering, jewel-hued creatures.

“Not at the moment, I think.” replied Harry, hesitantly.

“Though they might attack if we try to cross the room” Draco ventured.

Blaise stared intently at the birds for a moment then laughed “They’re keys. Winged keys”

“Huh?” Harry

“Look, their bodies are metal” Blaise said, pointing.

“Oh, yeah!” laughed Draco, grinning as realisation dawned “And there’s a door on the other side. Bet one of them opens it.”

“Yeah, look!” replied Harry, pointing to the far wall, against which a couple of broomsticks were propped.

“We must have to catch one” smirked Blaise. “Good thing we’ve got Harry and Draco with us.”

“Which one, though” said Hermione thoughtfully.

“Well, the door has a big keyhole” said Theo “So probably one of the larger keys.”

“And it might be damaged as it’s already been caught once” added Draco thoughtfully.

“The handle’s silver so maybe the key is too” suggested Hermione.

“Okay” Draco unbound the scabbard from his hip and grabbed the brooms, one of which he chucked at Harry “Come on, let’s get the sucker.”

Harry and Draco shot into the air, flying amid the keys, their sharp eyes flickering this way and that, scanning each key for colour, size and flaws.

“Look! That one there” Harry cried.

“What, the one with the blue wings!” Draco shouted, zooming over “Yeah! I see! It’s got a crumpled wing!”

Harry thought: the keys were very fast and, if they wanted to catch this one, they’d have to be strategic “If you fly down from the left and I fly up from the right…”

“Yeah, pincer movement” Draco nodded. “That should work.”

Draco dived, Harry rocked upwards and the key, with nowhere else to go, flew towards the wall, which was a big mistake as, a fraction of a second later, Harry and Draco had it pinned underneath their hands.

“Got it!” On the ground, Theo, Blaise and Hermione cheered.

Draco swooped down and, grabbing his sword, thrust the key into the lock and turned it with a loud ‘click’. The children paused, suddenly finding themselves unwilling to move forward.

“Wonder what’s next?” said Blaise after a moment.

“Could be anything” replied Draco with forced indifference, lowering his eyes as he rebound the scabbard to his waist with his tie.

“Well, we’ve had Fluffy, whose Hagrid’s, some charmed keys, Flitwick, and a plant, that’s Professors Sprout’s” Theo said thoughtfully “I expect that Professors McGonagall and Snape have done something, maybe Quirell too.”

“So, transfiguration and potions, as those are their specialties?” suggested Blaise.

“Dad might have done something a bit different, though” Harry said proudly “he’s talented in lots of things.”

After another long pause, Hermione took a deep breath “Ready?” she asked, putting a hand on the door handle.

“Yeah” Blaise said. “Wands out, everyone.”

The door creaked open into a room which was darker than a moonless night.

“Best foot forward, I guess” Harry said nervously, stepping over the threshold.

Light blazed into the room, revealing a gigantic chessboard manned by human-sized chess-pieces. The kings were even taller than Professor Snape! What made matters worse was that, in wizard-chess, the chessmen bore human forms and, while this was not especially creepy when the pieces were an inch high, at over six foot, the faceless statues made Harry’s stomach curdle.

“Okay…” whispered Blaise, looking away from the eerie figures “I think this must be McGonagall’s.”

“Yeah” said Theo “Heard she was a chess-master in her youth.”

“Surprising she ended up in Gryff. All the best chess-players come from Slytherin” Draco said, his voice heavy with false bravado.

“Okay” said Blaise after a pause “I expect we have to play our way across”

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked towards the Black Knight: the helmeted Knights were, by far, the least creepy and, after spending time with Threstrals, Harry just felt more comfortable about reaching out and softly, hesitantly, touching the warhorse’s muzzle.

The statue sprang to life; the horse reared, Harry jumped back, Hermione gave a startled cry as Draco threw her behind him, and Theo, in falling on his backside, tripped Blaise, causing the children to land in a heap.

As Draco, the only one still standing, offered his hand to help Hermione up, Theo cursed and Blaise, with an air of calm resignation, cured their grazes, Harry turned back to the Knight “Do we, um, have to play our way across?”

The White Knight nodded and Harry turned to his friends “So, er, what are we going to do?”

“Draco, you’re decent at chess, you can be a Knight” said Blaise “Theo, ditto. Hermione, you’re the King, no arguments, Harry can be a Bishop and I’ll” Blaise sniggered “I’ll be the Queen.”

Draco rolled his grey eyes “Weasley will just love that.”

Despite their inanimate state, the chessmen appeared to be listening; the Black Knights, a Bishop and the King and Queen stepped aside, leaving their places empty. Draco, Theo Harry, Hermione and Blaise took their places, their bodies tense.

“Don’t worry” Blaise whispered to Hermione, who was biting her lip, “We can do this.”

The White pawn moved forward two squares and the game began. Draco and Theo took command; Theo was a defensive player, while Draco, on the other hand, preferred to go on the offensive. However, they both understood the deadly seriousness of the situation, how could they not after seeing the White Queen smash a pawn and drag his lifeless form to the side of the board.

At the back of the board, amid her bodyguard of pawns, Hermione gasped, tears in her eyes. Blaise looked back at her ruefully “Sorry, Hermione, it had to happen” he said, banishing the White Queen from the board.

After losing their Queen, the White chessmen showed no mercy, relentlessly clubbing any black pieces which Theo was forced to sacrifice. However, Draco was equally ferocious, darting across the board, taking White pieces left, right and centre. Eventually, the White King was surrounded by Harry, Theo and Draco. Accepting his fate with good grace, the King stepped out of Blaise’s path and into Harry’s.

“And we have Checkmate!” crowed Draco as the White crown landed at Harry’s feet.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, the children dashed across the board and, wrenching open the door, scrambled into the next room.

“Eww!”

“What’s that smell?”

“Troll!” gasped Harry, turning white.

Blaise put an arm around the quaking boy’s shoulders “It’s knocked out, Harry, look” he said, pointing to the inert figure of the troll.

Gulping, Harry nodded and the children, their sleeves over their noses, tiptoed passed the gigantic creature, each relieved that Quirell had vanquished it so thoroughly.

It was with considerably more caution that the children opened the door of the next chamber.

“It’s okay” Draco grinned back at Theo and Blaise “Just a table with loads of bottles on it”

“Must be your Dad’s” Theo grinned at Harry “Potions!”

However, when the children stepped over the threshold, they were alarmed to hear the whomph of flames: black fire consumed the doorway leading onwards and, when they span around, they discovered that the threshold was barred by purple fire.

“Your Dad’s such a Slytherin” sighed Blaise to Harry. “Pyrianus’s Pyre…”

“And Emeric’s Inferno” groaned Theo. “He doesn’t take any chances, does he?”

“Look!” cried Hermione, seizing a roll of paper. “It’s a riddle!”

Harry grinned “Dad loves logic puzzles, let’s see ‘two… will help’ but only one will take us forward..."

"So the other 'helper' must allow us to return through the purple fire…” frowned Hermione

As Harry and Hermione pored over the scroll, Blaise sauntered up to the row of bottles and started perusing them, bopping down to inspect their respective levels.

“Two hold nettle wine…”

“At least we’ll have something to drink” Draco whispered to Theo.

“Three are poison Draco!" Snapped Hermione "Oh, but the poison is always to the left of the wine!”

“And ‘neither dwarf nor giant holds death on their insides’!” added Harry.

“Second left and second right are twins… so they must be the nettle wine!”

Blaise picked up the smallest bottle and ran a finger around the lip; liquid shone on his finger-tip.

“So it’s the smallest one to get through the black fire” grinned Harry

“Yes!” beamed Hermione, “I’m sure of it!”

“So am I” grinned Blaise, raising an eyebrow at their incredulous expressions “Someone’s already taken a swig out of this but the rest are full.”

As Draco and Theo laughed, Harry stared hard at the bottles “And the one will get someone back through the purple flames…that's in the bottle on the far right.”

“There’s scarcely enough for one person, though!” Draco cried, pointing at the tiny bottle in Blaise's hand.

“I’m going through” Harry said firmly “I was the one who wanted to do this, so it’s only fair.”

“But…” Draco gasped “You can’t! It’s… only a complete moron would attempt to fight an unknown opponent in unknown territory absolutely alone. You’ll be killed!”

“We’ve come this far, though!” Harry insisted “I’ve got to go on, I’ve just got to! What if it is Voldemort!”

“Then you will be killed, Harry!” Draco cried.

“Why don’t we all just wait here, behind the walls, and ambush whoever it is when they try to leave?” Hermione suggested.

“What if there’s another way out?” Harry asked anxiously “There are some wards which allow you to leave but not enter!”

“If that was the case, why did your Dad create a potion to get people through the purple fire?” Blaise pointed out.

“Because he didn’t think whomever it is would be able to work out his riddle! Just because you can’t get out of this room, doesn’t mean you can’t get out of the last!” Harry insisted “I can’t take that chance.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest but Blaise laid a hand on his shoulder “We’ve got to let him go, Dray.”

“I don’t see why!” cried Hermione “He could die!”

Blaise shook his head “Some things, people have to decide for themselves. Harry’s made up his mind and we’ve got to respect that.”

Theo, who was paler than alabaster, nodded “It’s… it’s the way our society has always worked, Hermione. People choose their own destiny.”

Hermione's eyes were bright with tears and Draco turned his head away but neither argued further.

“Thanks” Harry said quietly, taking their silence for compliance “Look, um, one of you’d better go and see if Mr Malfoy’s at home, just in case, you know.”

“I’m not leaving!” Draco said firmly “If that bastard… well, if he gets past you, I’ll give him what he deserves.”

Blaise and Theo looked uncomfortable. They had been trained in duelling since they had been able to grasp a wand but, well, letting Hermione struggle back through the challenges alone... Okay, it'd be less dangerous than staying here if You-Know-Who really was behind the curtain of fire but, then again, a Hungarian Horntale with a toothache was probably less dangerous than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

“I’ll go.” Hermione said quietly “I’m not as good at Defence and, well…”

Harry nodded “Okay, well, um, I’ll see you later.”

“You’d better” replied Draco in a tight voice.

Harry forced a smile and took a swig from the tiniest bottle: the liquid burnt like ice in his throat. Not able to bring himself to meet his friends' eyes, Harry clutched his wand and stepped through the black flames, into the final chamber.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Harry knew that he should attack now, whilst his enemy was unaware of his presence. Harry knew that, even though Quirrell was rubbish at Defence, as an adult he would have the advantage in a fight. Harry knew that, every second he hesitated, he might be sealing not only his own fate but that of his friends. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to curse Quirrell, not like this.

Eventually, Harry could bear the tension no longer: he had to do something. Then it struck him; the disarming spell wasn't even a jinx, really. “Expelliarmus!”

As Quirrell’s wand soared into Harry’s hand, the Defence Professor spun round, murder in his eyes.

Fear jolted through Harry’s body, causing him to stagger back, and the little golden dagger, sensing the child’s terror, glowed within his pocket: Harry’s vision blurred then sharpened as his pupils reformed into slits.

*“Sssssssstay your fangssssssss, Cobrrra!”* Harry heard himself spit in a high, harsh tone completely unlike his own.

Now it was Quirrell’s turn to step back “L..Lord?” he stuttered.

There was a pause and then, to Harry’s horror, a second voice spoke, one which seemed to come from Quirrell but was not spoken by his lips.

*“Harry, hatchling. What a pleasssssant sssssssurprissssse.”

Harry’s green eyes opened wide and the slit pupils contracted into their usual shape. *“Pleasssssant?”* Harry asked, in his own voice.

*“Indeed. It issss rare that I meet with a sssssspeaker and rarer sssssstill that one bessssssts me. ”* the voice psshed sweetly. *“Sssssslytherin Houssse hassss a true ssssssson in you.”*

Harry blinked. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

*“Now, Harry hatchling, sssssit quietly. When I am returned to my ssssscalesss, we will talk at length. There mussssst be much you wisssh to know.”*

Harry’s mouth worked silently, then he spat *“The sssstone issssss not your rightful prey and if you ssssssteal it, you bring venom onto Nicholas Flamel!”*

The voice chuckled *“Ssssso brave. But no, little hatchling, I do not wisssssh to ssssteal. Ssssome live-giving-water issss all I dessssssire.”*

“Lord…” Quirrell gasped “I see the stone, I see myself giving it to you, but I cannot get at it!”

*“Ssssssilence”* the voice spat.

*“You hissss that the ssssssssun isss black”* Harry cried *“You brought venom onto my hatcherssss!”*

*“Harry, hatchling”* Voldemort responded in a softened tone *“I did not intend to kill your hatchersss, I dessssssired only to talk with them. They attacked and I fought. The nessssst caved in, killing ussssss all.”

*“ You hissss that the ssssssssun isss black”* sscched Harry.

*“Consssssssider, hatchling, hassss anyone ssssspoken of that night to you, hassss anyone shown you the nesssst in which your hatchersss lived?”*

*“No!”* Harry Sscched.

*“They do not wisssssh you to know that the sssssun isssss gold.”* Voldemort hissed gently. *“If you but help me to return to my sssssscalessss, I will ssssspeak.”*

*“I do not trussssst you.”* Harry fisssed.

*“True blood of Sssssssslytherin.”* psshed Voldemort proudly *“Sssssssso knowing, sssssssso knowing. I will vow on my fangssss. Vow not to bite Harry hatchling.”*

*“Or anyone elssssssse, ever again”* Harry hissed sharply “Or command otherssss to bite.”*

*“True Sssssslytherin, you bring pride to you Houssssse.”* psshed Voldemort *“Come, hatchling, I will make an unbreakable vow”*

*“And who will bind your vow, egg-eater?!”* spat Slytherin from the Mirror of Erised.

Quirrell turned, gaping at the ancient wizard, who was glaring from the mirror’s depths, baring his fangs *“Oh, yesssssssss! I sssssssee you, biter of kin and hatchlingssssssss. You are no blood of mine! Sssssslither, Harry!” He cried “Sssssssslither asssss if the rock beneath you sssssscorched your sssssssscales!”*

As Harry bolted away, Voldemort cried *“Sssssseize him!”*

Harry leapt towards the doorway, only to be tackled at the last moment. The wands flew out of Harry’s grasp, disappearing through the threshold, and Quirell pinned him to the ground.

Harry fought, trying to pull himself out of the much larger adult’s grasp. But Quirrell was stronger; he grabbed Harry’s arm and started dragging the struggling child across the floor. Harry gripped Quirell’s hand, in an attempt to prise away those bruising fingers and the Defence Professor screamed, releasing Harry as if burnt.

Shocked, Harry stood glued to the spot, his eyes fixed on the red-raw fingerprints on the back of Quirell’s hand.

“Lord!” cried Quirrell in despair “I cannot… he burnt me!”

*“Fool! Ssssseize him”* Voldemort spat. Looking frightened, Quirrell took a step towards Harry, who backed away, holding up his hands.

*“Go for the eyessssssss!”* spat Slytherin from the Mirror *“Ssscorch him, sssssscorch the ssssssscales from hissssss flessssssh!”*

“Lord!” begged Quirrell, wringing his hands.

*“Worthlessss! Then bring venom onto him!”* spat Voldemort.

Quirrell hesitated, then jerkily approached Harry, as if some part of him was resisting “I’ll, I’ll make it quick, Potter" he said, a nervous tick flickering under his eye, "Come here.”

Blood pounding in his veins, Harry backed up against the wall. Quirell was blocking his exit and he was totally trapped. The golden dagger glowed again and Harry’s pupil’s elongated. The jewelled sheath flew off the dagger as Harry wrenched the blade from his pocket. Although Harry trembled, the hand which held it, long fingered and clawed, was steady.

*“Begone, egg-eater”* spat the high, harsh voice *“Or I will rend the sssscalessss from your bonesssss. You shall not touch my heir. Begone!”*

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, Quirrell’s attention was riveted on Harry, whose form flickered between that of a small, scrawny boy, and a tall, imposing snake youkai. The distraction was such that they did not notice Hissy’s gigantic form slithering up behind them until just a fraction of a moment too late.

With a vicious, serpentine smile on his lipless mouth, Hissy snapped at Quirrell, his fangs sinking deep into the man’s body. The basilisk dropped his prey, sneering harshly *“I will not kill you with my gazzzzze, egg-eater. You will suffer long, as you forced me to ssssuffer.”*

Quirrell shuddered as the deadly poison crept through his veins and, suddenly, his eyes changed; the wintry hardness faded, they became more human.

“Harry!” he whispered “Th…thank you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and his green eyes widened in disbelief.

“I… I die clean, clean of the… the demon who has long possessed me.” Quirrell said, his voice slurred “More… more’n I ever… hoped!”

Behind Harry, Hissy listened intently, his orange tongue savouring the air, tasting the truth of Quirrell’s sentiments.

“You… you weren’t in league with him?” Harry gasped, kneeling at the man’s size.

“N…never. Never… My mother… muggleborn… I tau…ght muggle studies. Didn’t know! Didn’t know what he was until… Oh!”

Quirrell looked up at Harry, his eyes bright “H..he forced me.. didn't want to... tried to resist" Quirrell coughed, blood spattering his lips "S…sorry.”

Harry’s lips trembled and tears overspilled his eyes. “Please, please hang on!” the child pleaded “I’ll get help!”

Quirrell smiled, shutting his eyes and Harry, totally overwrought, wept with wild abandon, his tears streaming, in rivulets over the man’s inert body.

Salt, water and a trace, the merest trace, of neutralised Basilisk venom.

Draco’s dulcet tones sliced through Harry’s awakening mind like a thermal lance, spurring the headache gnawing at his temples to chew through the rest of his brain.

Light blazed through Harry’s eyelids, burning his sore corneas, and he flopped a hand over his face “Urgh!”

A warm, strong arm slipped behind his shoulders and, cushioning his head on a soft bicep, lifted Harry. A cup was pressed against Harry’s lips and cool liquid slid down his throat. “Errrgtfuh!”

“Water” a familiar voice suggested and another glass, this time of blissfully sweet, pure water, was offered. Harry gulped it down greedily but, before he could take more than a couple of sips, the glass was removed.

“No more, now. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Redy sick” Harry protested, his messy, raven head lolling against Severus’ arm.

“Will he be okay?!” Draco asked, struggling into a sitting position, which, with one arm in a sling, wasn’t an easy task. He peered over at Harry, looking upset.

Severus, his hair matted with grease, dirt and dust and his travelling robes crumpled and muddy sneered, did not trust himself to speak lest he disturb the child in his arms. Lucius, whose robes, while not exactly askew, were far from their customary smooth, perfect lines, also fumed in silence. It had not been a good night.

“He’s fine, dear” said Madam Pomfrey, bustling over to Harry and casting a diagnostic “Soon be right as rain. A good thing Quirinus discovered you all in time. Going after the Philosopher’s stone, I’d have never believed it!”

Memory flared in Harry’s brain: Quirrell!

“Quirrell in’ocent. Not ‘is faul’.” Harry muttered, shifting in Severus’ arms and opening his eyes. “Oww!”

Severus raised his wand and dimmed the lights “Better?”

“Yeah” Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes. Although the headache had gone, he felt like a hippogriff had stamped all over his body and the least said about the taste in his mouth, the better.

“We know it’s not Quirrell’s fault!” piped up Draco “He came out carrying you. Which is how I got this” Draco indicated his arm.

“What happened?” Harry gasped, staring at the sling.

“Well, I went to stab him, then I saw that you were in the way and the sword kind of… slipped a bit.” Draco explained, blushing.

Lucius’ mouth twisted “The sword which you shouldn’t have touched, much less been swinging around like a demented Pict!”

“Ah, yes” beamed Dumbledore, sweeping into the Infirmary “My congratulations, Mr Malfoy, on your discovery. The legendary sword of Gryffindor!”

The colour drained from Draco’s face “Gryff… but! But it’s silver! Slytherin silver! And, anyway, only a true Gryffindor and wield Gryffindor’s Sword…” Draco’s voice trailed off into horrified silence.

Lucius raised an eyebrow “Well, Draco, perhaps we’d better ask Professor Dumbledore to summon us the Sorting Hat. Not only do you partake in Gryffindor-esque heroics, you do so whilst waving Gryffindor’s Sword. It appears that you are in the wrong House.”

“No!” Draco begged. “I’m not a Gryffindor! I’m not!”

“Calm yourself, Master Malfoy.” Dumbledore said kindly “Master Nott, Master Zabini and our poor Ms Granger have explained the, ah, events of this evening, Mr Malfoy, and it appears young Draco Malfoy was, in fact, the voice of reason throughout.”

“Hermione… you said ‘poor Ms Granger’” Harry stated, his stomach turning somersaults “Is she okay?”

“Ms Granger and Masters Nott and Zanini escaped the corridor uninjured. Apparently, Ms Granger met Mr Malfoy in the Entrance Hall, and, having escorted Ms Granger to Professor McGonagall’s office, Mr Malfoy entered the Third Floor Corridor. It seems that he was of some practical assistance in quenching Pyrianus’ Pyre.” the Headmaster added, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes.

“What?” Harry gasped “You got through the Devil’s Snare and the Chess-set and everything, by yourself?”

“Yes, Mr Potter,” sighed Lucius, rolling his eyes, “I assure you that, even as an adult with a mere ten OWLS, seven NEWTS and two Masteries, I somehow managed to overcome the same obstacles that a group of First Years vanquished.”

Severus smirked “Mr Malfoy decided that, as time was at a premium, a series of rather enthusiastic blasting curses was a proportional response. Professors Sprout and McGonagall, it seems, did not take into account that a sufficiently motivated party might not consider waking the entire school and, indeed, county to be a disincentive.”

“I thought we were in the Blitz” grumbled Madam Pomfrey. “Scared me out of my wits, it did.”

Draco giggled but stopped when Lucius fixed him with a stony look.

“Um… what’s happened to Professor Quirrell?” Harry asked, to break the heavy silence.

“Professor Quirrell is currently being treated at St Mungos, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore said gently “It appears that he is suffering from acute malnutrition, dehydration and exhaustion, the normal side effects of prolonged Possession.”

“Possession!” Draco and Lucius gasped.

“Yeah, Voldemort was possessing him” Harry said quickly “It wasn’t his fault! He tried to stop him but Voldemort was too strong!”

Lucius, white with anger, spun to face Professor Dumbledore and opened his mouth, obviously intending to flay the Headmaster for his incompetence.

“Yes, Voldemort’s prowess in mind magic is legendary” said Professor Dumbledore gently “Indeed, during the last war, he placed many powerful wizards under the imperius curse. Wizards who were acquitted by the Wizengamot. Is that not true, Mr Malfoy?”

Lucius closed his mouth and said quietly “Very true.”

“What’s going to happen to him, though?” asked Harry, upset.

“Professor Quirrell has decided that, on leaving St Mungos, he will take a lengthy sabbatical.” Professor Dumbledore explained kindly, “I believe that, after his ordeal, poor Quirinus wishes to spend some time with his family.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, familiar with the euphemism.

“However, I have long considered it regrettable that Muggle Studies is only an optional, Third Year course and, more unfortunately still, Wizard Culture is not studied at all. As Professor Quirrell has NEWTs in both History of Magic and Muggle Studies, perhaps, in a year or so’s time, he may be induced to return to Hogwarts to teach a combined course.”

“We did that, though!” Draco said pertly. “In the DA!”

Professor Dumbledore smiled. “Indeed, perhaps, you might be so good as to transcribe your group’s curriculum, for Professor Quirrell’s perusal. Wholesome, absorbing activity would be beneficial, I believe.”

Draco beamed proudly at Harry, who gave him a covert ‘thumbs up’.

“Now, children, I think that it is time for you to rest. I can imagine” the old Headmaster said, eying their sombre-looking fathers, “that a good night’s sleep will prove necessary.”

“What do you recon’s going to happen?” asked Draco, miserably, as he mopped up his egg yolk with a bit of muffin.

“Don’t know. I mean, we broke at least three school rules and a dozen Slytherin ones.” Harry said nervously.

“Including the one about not being total Gryffindorks. Ah!” Draco put his head in his hands “Dad’s going to kill me.”

“It… it probably won’t be that bad, Dray… I mean, they won’t beat us or anything?” Harry said, a little uncertainly. He put down the remains of his muffin, all apatite now gone.

“No, of course not” Draco grumbled, looking at Harry as if he was mad “We’ll lose points and probably be given detentions. Hogwarts hasn’t used corporal punishment for yonks.”

“But… what about our parents?” Harry asked, tremulously.

“I’d prefer a beating” moaned Draco “I hate it when Dad’s disappointed in me!”

Although Harry knew that Draco was exaggerating, he couldn't help but nod in agreement. The thought that Severus, who had always been so proud of Harry, would be saddened and disappointed made Harry feel very small indeed.

OoOoO

The dreaded interview, however, did not take place until one o’clock because Lucius and Severus, assured of their sons’ wellbeing, had pressing matters which urgently required their attention.

Draco and Harry also devoted their morning to serious business: in imagining their fathers’ lectures, the boys realised how reckless they had been and, indeed, how close to the wind they had sailed on numerous occasions. Fluffy might have woken up, the Devil’s Snare could have strangled them, they might have fallen off their brooms, the chessmen were within an inch of smashing their brains in on numerous occasions and the less said about running into the lair of a troll, the better.

And, given that they had also broken curfew, disobeyed a direct order from the Headmaster and ventured out of bounds, the boys knew that their honourable motives would be of very little weight, as would the excuse that they didn’t know who they could trust. Thus, Draco had suggested that, if they could show their parents that, in hindsight, they understood how reckless they had been, they might gain a little ground in their estimation. Or, as the young scion of the House of Malfoy eloquently phrased it “They’ll not have to shout at us about how reckless we were because we’ve shown them that we already know!”

Therefore, the rest of the morning was spent in compiling a careful list of rules that they had broken, mistakes they had made and the possible consequences of breaking them. Harry’s list was by far the longest and two glaring mistakes; not considering either owling his father or contacting Mr Malfoy, practically burnt in the page. Harry did not regret what he had done, not at all, but he did regret being so thick about it. Especially as they had been found out.

oOoOo

As Harry and Draco were pushing their lunches around their plates, too nervous to eat more than the barest nibble of the delicious coq au vin and mashed potatoes, Lucius, Narcissa and Severus walked slowly and sadly towards the dormitory. Narcissa walked apart from her concerned husband, her arms folded and jaw clenched, in an attempt to keep the tears from trickling down her cheeks. As a mother and wife, herself, she could not be left unmoved after completing such a task as the one which had filled her morning. Nothing less could have kept her from her son, nothing more, save being in the same position herself, could have discomposed her so badly.

Hearing their approach, Madam Pomfrey stepped outside, pre-prepared speech already on her lips “The poor little loves have spent all morning writing essays, listing their mistakes. They’re too upset to eat. I really think… Narcissa? What’s wrong?” the kindly matron cried, on noticing Madam Malfoy’s pale, tearstained face.

“We have been dealing with the Granger situation.” Severus said solemnly.

“Oh!”

Granger Residence: June 4th: 8.42 am.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright, Jeanie?” William Granger asked his wife, handing her a plate of marmite on toast, crusts cut off, and a cup of peppermint tea.

“I’ll be fine, Will” Jean sniffed, attempting to smile through her cracked lips “Just a cold. I’ll be bedder in no… attishoo!”

William kissed his wife on the forehead, tucked the bedcovers around her, then stood up, smoothing his bushy, russet beard, which had gone static in the dry, summer air.

Jean chuckled “You look like Owen Lawgoch” she said teasingly, her warm brown eyes alight with laughter

“So you always say.” William smiled, blue eyes twinkling. “I’d better be off, the Practice won’t open itself.”

“Have a good day, dear.” Jean said, blowing her nose “And be careful crossing the roads; you’ll meet your death, one day, with the way you dodge traffic.”

“I’ll be back at lunchtime. Thai curry soup, right?”

But William Granger did not return at noon and, when Jean Granger traipsed downstairs to answer the door that afternoon, grumbling about her husband’s inability to remember such simple things such as time and keys, it was to find a grim-faced Severus Snape.

oOoOo

When Draco saw his mother’s tearstained face, he cringed. Yes, he'd known that his parents would be disappointed in him; Draco had always been a show-off and, for much of his youth, the incorrigible child had been on a first name basis with the nice Healers at St Mungo’s Accident and Emergency ward. Many a time his mother had scolded him for taking a foolish risk and, worse still, his father sighed, shaken his head and wondered whether there was a Slyherin brain under that Gryffindor ego. Draco had stamped his foot and harrumphed and insisted that he was a Slytherin: he had known exactly what he was doing and had taken a carefully calculated risk which had only gone wrong because of someone else’s fault. So there!

However, before leaving for Hogwarts, Draco had promised his father that, if he did get into Slytherin, he would try to obey the ancient House Rules; unity, decorum and, most importantly, don’t risk your life, let alone the lives of your friends, when the odds are against you. Although he knew that they’d pretty much completely shattered the final rule, Draco hadn’t realised that his mother would be so upset, nor that his father would look quite so solemn and serious.

Summoning up his courage, Harry spoke “Dad, I… I decided to do it. When I heard Voldemort ordering Professor Quirrell, he didn’t want to, you see, he tried to resist but Voldemort was too powerful, but, when I head that they were going to steal the Philosopher’s Stone tonight, I tried to find you and Dumbledore but you’d both gone and I didn’t know if any of the other teachers were in league with him, well, obviously not Madam Pomfrey or Hagrid… or Professor Kettleburn but they’d just tell Professor McGonagall and I… well, I just didn’t know who to trust so I decided to handle the situation myself. I took the cloak from your bedroom, I know I shouldn’t and that it was wrong and I’m really sorry but I had to. Then Hermione, she was sitting up in the common room and Heidi, her owl, flew into me and pulled off my cloak and she tried to convince me not to go, they all did but I just… I just couldn’t let Voldemort return. It’s all my fault, they were just helping me, so they shouldn’t get into trouble…”

“Harry! Slow down!” insisted Severus. Blushing, Harry paused, knowing that he’d started to burble somewhere after his first sentence. The child bit his lip and hesitantly passed a rather long scroll to his father, upon which was crammed an essay headed “Why I Shouldn’t Have Done What I Did Last Night.”

In the bed beside Harry, a tearful Draco was being embraced by his parents, who were too emotionally overwrought to say anything more than that he was never to scare them like that again.

Severus looked down at the essay, then over at his son, who was watching him with enormous, anxious green eyes. “Oh, Harry” he sighed, wrapping his arms around the boy “Your life is worth so much more than the Philosopher’s Stone”

“I know” Harry sniffed, burying his face into Severus’ shoulder “I just didn’t want Voldemort to come back because, if he did, he might try to hurt you.”

Severus looked up, blinking tears out of his eyes. When he’d first heard of his son’s exploits, Severus had been furious but, as he knew a father should, he’d held his tongue and concentrated on returning the foolish child to health. This morning, Severus had woken up angry and worked himself up into a fine temper before breakfast, only to have the Headmaster inform him that he, Professor Dumbledore, would deal with Messrs Nott and Zabini, as Severus had a more pressing duty.

And standing silently by Narcissa as she’d broken the news of William Granger’s death, thus shattering the blissful, happy world of a girl whose only fault was that she let her heart overrule her head, has quenched what remained of Severus’ ire.

Now, holding his foolish, infinitely brave son, Severus felt nothing but sadness: life was so fleeing, so fragile, so finite and, now that Voldemort had returned, those attributes were emphasised. Their time together might be short, so why waste it on anger?

“I’m sorry Dad!” Harry whispered “Sorry for making you worry about me.”

“I am sorry too, Harry” Severus replied, tightening his embrace, “I should have realised that, in such a circumstance, you might not have known who you could trust.”

Harry heard Draco anxiously say to his father “What’s going to happen, Daddy? We broke loads of rules!”

Harry tensed in Severus’s arms and Severus, releasing his son, looked over to Lucius, who nodded.

“The Headmaster” Severus said slowly “has decided that, although broke three, very serious rules, thereby endangering your lives and the lives your housemates, you did so with the most honourable and selfless of intentions and, therefore, you should all forgo any official punishment on this occasion. However” Severus paused significantly “Further heroics will be punished with a proportionate number of detentions and loss of points.”

Harry and Draco nodded, wide eyed.

“As your parents and Godparents, Mr and Mrs Malfoy and I have agreed that the most effective form of discipline would be to require you to write an essay explaining your actions, highlighting mistakes and the possible consequences, including the effect that your or your friends’ death or injury would have on their acquaintances, friends and relatives.”

“We’ve done that! We wrote all about it this morning.” cried Draco, relief creeping over his countenance.

“Not the last part, though” Harry reminded him, conscientiously.

“I am pleased to see that you have been seriously reflecting upon this” Severus said seriously “We will read your first drafts now and you can add to them this evening.”

As Severus paused, taking a moment to form his words into careful sentences.  Noticing the anxiety on his father’s face, Harry burst out “Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Yesterday” Narcissa said quietly “Mr and Mrs Granger’s Healing Practice was, it is believed from witness accounts that a blasting curse was used, a very powerful one. Mr Granger and a number of other muggles, his patients I believe, were killed instantly.”

Harry and Draco’s faces fell. “But… what about her mother?” Draco asked finally.

“Fortunately, she remained at home yesterday due to a severe cold” Severus explained “So as to ensure her safety, I removed Mrs Granger to Uroborus last night. The mode of attack suggested that she may also have been a target.”

Sadness and confusion creased Draco’s countenance “Why would anyone do something like that?”

“We are not, as yet, certain, but enquires are ongoing” Lucius replied sadly.

“Did they… do you think they wanted you and Professor Dumbledore out of the castle” Harry asked his father, a horrible idea blossoming in his mind.

“Possibly, Harry.” Severus said, quickly adding “Professor Quirrell, however, was teaching his NEWT students throughout the morning and, therefore, has a strong alibi.”

“Where is Hermione? Can we see her?” asked Draco earnestly "We should be with her, we're her friends!"

“She is with her mother, at Uroborus” Severus explained "I believe that she would appreciate some letters, however."

"Can we... can we go back to the Serpent's Nest, Dad?" Harry asked, knuckling tears from his eye.

"Of course, Harry. Or, perhaps you might prefer to invite your friends to stay in my quarters. I have rooms enough."

Harry nodded but Draco seemed uncertain.

"We're staying in Hogwarts, for the time being" Narcissa said gently. "The Headmaster has kindly offered us a suite of rooms next to Severus'."

Draco gave a watery smile and rested his head upon his father's shoulder. The world had shifted on it's axis, dawning on a sadder, darker world, where smiles had dissolved into tears. However, surrounded by Lucius, Narcissa and Severus, Harry and Draco were, indeed, amongst the deadliest of serpents but, whilst a viper pit may be terrifying to a stranger, there are no creatures more secure in their safety than the hatchlings within.

“Mione?”

“Yes Mum?” she answered, raising her head from the rough surface of the plant pot, against which she had rested her cheek.

Jean Granger opened the kitchen door and sat down next to her daughter, stroking away the tears which had been streaming, unacknowledged, down Hermione’s face.

“We’ve got some letters, love. Seems your friends have written to you: I found a pile of letters and an enormous vase of flowers in the fireplace. She handed Hermione a small, stiff, vellum card, which was boardered with a frieze of intertwining dogrose briars. A tiny, white butterfly flittered from painted bloom to painted bloom, shimmering softly in the light of the setting sun.

“It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” smiled Jean, gently tracing the butterfly with her nail. “Like a Disney animation.”

Hermione smiled sadly and nodded, before forcing her aching eyes to focus on the words:

OoOoO

Dear Madam Granger and Hermione,

With our sincerest condolences,

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

OoOoO

Hermione smiled “Draco’s parents are really formal and old-fashioned but they’re kind, too.” she explained “What kind of flowers did they choose?”

“A rather odd mixture.” Jean replied “Narcissi, amaryllis, cornflowers, jasmine, tiger lilies, asphodel and pink, red and gold roses.”

Hermione smiled “Draco’s flowers are red and gold roses, so the rest must have been made by his parents.”

“Made?” Jean asked, surprised.

“There’s this spell, ‘orchideous’, which creates a bunch of flowers and everyone’s bouquet are made up of different flowers, depending on their personality. It’s supposed to be a mark of friendship when people… give you their own.” Hermione said, tearing up.

“I wish I could cry” sighed Jean, putting an arm around Hermione’s shoulders “I can’t seem to manage it, somehow.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around her mother “You’ve just gone numb, Mum, like you did when Nan died.”

“What do your other letters say?” Jean asked. Hermione picked up a slender scroll, wrapped with a green ribbon and sealed with silver wax, into which had been impressed the elegant bust of a basilisk. However, the direction was written in Harry’s messy scrawl.

“That looks impressive” Jean commented, stroking the satiny ribbon “Makes me rather sad we don’t do letters this way any more.”

“It’s Professor Snape’s private stationary” Hermione said, smiling sadly “I expect he let Harry borrow it.”

oOoOo

To: Hermione.
From: Harry.

Dear Hermione,

I’m really sorry about what’s happened and I kind’ve know how you must be feeling. When I was eight my uncle died in a car crash and I’ve never really stopped feeling sad about it because he was well nice and even though I didn’t get to see much of him ‘cos he was always at work I really missed him loads. (Even though I’ve got Dad now, I still do sometimes because there each special in their own way.)

I hope your having a nice time I hope that you like Uroborus. The beach is dead real beautiful and it’s a nice place to sit and think. I’ve asked Dad if we could send Toby over to be with you cos I know you like dogs and Toby would love to play on the beach. Dad says I have to ask your mum though. The best thing about dogs is you don’t have to speak to them if your sad they just know you are and will sit beside you.

Draco and Theo and Blaise and me are okay. We didn’t get into to much trouble though Blaise got a howler. (Everyone at school thinks he’s dead cool and brave now cos Madam Zabini yelled about all the times he could’ve gotten hurt.) Oh, and Dad put the Weasley twins in detention for calling us ‘the Heroes of Hogwarts’ though they say they don’t mind cos they always learn cool stuff during detentions. Draco’s arm’s ok by the way Madam Pomfrey healed it in two seconds. He’s swinging the lead a bit with Dad though, telling him his arm’s too soar to cut up his ingredients and asking if I could do the prep whilst he mixes everything together. I don’t mind because we work best this way. Dad’s looking grumpy though, so I don’t think he should push his luck to much.

Best wishes,

Harry.

oOoOo

“Harry sounds a really sweet boy. What happened to Draco’s arm, by the way?” Jean asked.

“Oh, he was fooling around with a sword, everyone told him it was too heavy for him to handle, and he cut himself.” Hermione sighed, then, on noticing her mother’s shocked expression, added “Not badly though.”

“Poor boy.” Jean shook her head; Hogwarts was a very strange sort of school, like something out of a fairytale, and she’d come to the conclusion that it was best to just to expect the unexpected. Even so, swords..?

Hermione wanted to ask about the puppy but decided, instead, to open another, rather thicker scroll, this time sealed with a sparkly sticker of a fluttering Pegasus.

oOoOo

To: Hermione Granger.

Dear Hermione,

Theo here. Look, I’m not much good with this stuff and I expect I will just write something that’ll make you cry so I’m just going to say that I am really sorry about what has happened and we’re all here for you.

I’ve collected our summer assignments (enclosed) for you as I know you won’t want to fall behind or anything.

Regards T.

Postscript: Hope you didn’t get into trouble over our little adventure. Mum was rather upset with me because of all the risks we took but Dad told her that, although I was as much of a Gryffindork as Sal, our surviving the ordeals suggested that I had some Slytherin cunning!! Then I told him that all Slytherins were brave because you can’t be ambitious without being brave enough to face failing. T.

oOoOo

“I’m like that myself,” Jean sighed “Never quite know what to say or even how to start letters. Probably why I went into dentistry.”

Hermione rested her head on her mother’s shoulder: the memory of her father, the only member of the family whose linguistic prowess rivalled his scientific ability, hung heavily in the air. It was strange to think that William Granger was no longer in the world, too strange for Hermione to fully accept it. She still expected to see her father when she walked into the lounge; sitting as he used to sit each evening; socked feet up on the sofa, newspaper open at the crossword, chewing his biro, a little crease of concentration on the bridge of his nose. Or when entering the kitchen, Hermione was always half-prepared to see him standing, wooden spoon in hand, poised to added too much garlic, chilli or wine to her mother’s unattended pot or pan. And even outside, where the very landscape ensured that Hermione could not believe herself in the garden of her former home, she would not have been surprised to see William Granger walking up the beach.

“It was really thoughtful though, for Theo to collect your assignments.” Jean said, interrupting Hermione’s train of thought. “Most boys of that age wouldn’t think to do so.”

Hermione nodded, shuffling through the letters; Blaise’s angular, sloping scrawl, Millie’s carefully printed letters, Neville’s thick quillstrokes, Draco’s large curly writing, abundantly trimmed with flourishes, Daphne’s distinctive ‘bubble’ over the letter ‘i’, Pansy’s violet ink, Tracy’s rounded hand, even a messy scribble that must have come from Ron… they’d all cared enough to owl her and Hermione knew she should reply to their letters but, at this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to do so, the pain was too raw.

“I got a couple of letters, too” Jean said quietly “One is from a woman, I think the handwriting is more like a woman’s, and there’s another with the green ribbon and silver seal, so I expect it’s from that nice Mr Snape, your head of year.” She sighed “It’s ungrateful, I know, but I can’t face opening them at the moment.”

“I feel the same. They’d understand, though, Mum.” Hermione replied, curling a lock of her mother’s smooth, brown hair around her finger. “Are we going to have a memorial service for Dad or something? I mean, I know we can’t have a funeral, not without...”

Jean Granger shut her aching eyes; being told that her husband’s body had been completely destroyed had been the final straw. “Maybe, we should have it here” she heard herself saying “and ask your friends to come along too. Have a barbeque or something. Your Dad would have liked that, it’s what he did when his own father died: cream teas in Dedham, then a trip down the river to scatter the ashes.”

“I didn’t know that.” Hermione replied “Why Dedham, though?”

“Constable country, your granddad liked his paintings and dabbled in watercolours himself.” Jean sighed “I wish you’d had a chance to know your father’s parents, Mione. It’s just us, now.”

“Two’s enough to make a family, Mum” Hermione replied, hugging her mother “We’ll get through this.”

oOoOo

Each minute, hour and day passed, widened the gulf separating William Granger from his wife and daughter. Every morning was an anniversary, which both found bitter in their separate ways: for Jean, the pain was in knowing that yet another day had passed since she had last seen her husband. For Hermione, on the other hand, it was another day closer to the 20th June, the day on which she should have taken the Hogwarts Express to London, should have met up with both her parents, should have celebrated the end of her first year with afternoon tea at the Ritz, a special treat for which Hermione knew her parents had been saving. It should have been a happy occasion but, now, it was never to be.

However, the pain, in itself, was a step towards healing, better by far than the deadened numbness of shock. Against the backdrop of grief, there were little sparks of not joy but pleasure: retelling funny or sweet anecdotes, working, together, on Hermione’s homework and even opening the food-boxes, delivered twice daily from Hogwarts, and discovering the contents, afforded some distraction.

With the wind combing their hair, sea-spray bathing away their tears and Toby, joyful, young and innocent as a newly opened flower, bounding across the sand, looking back at them with bright, affectionate, happy eyes, Hermione and Jean found that, in the melody of life, no voice is lost as long as those who loved them forge a new life in which to remember.

While the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws chattered amongst themselves, happily anticipating the summer before them, the Slytherin table was rather more sombre; although all were proud of their House’s triumph in winning the Quidditch Cup, the First Years were very quiet, almost afraid of seeming too joyful, too easy, when they felt that their thoughts and hearts should be with their absent friend. And, although the upper years only thought about Hermione when they realised that there was a bushy, brown head of hair missing from the crowd, in noticing the childrens’ cheerlessness, many students subconsciously lowered their voices and subdued their smiles. House unity is not a rule, it is a state of mind.

Fortuitously, before the mood could become too serious, Professor Dumbledore swept in, brightly garbed in robes the exact shade of young beech leaves. Pansy snorted, smirked and whispered to Tracy that the tall, white bearded professor looked like a dandelion clock, earning her a reproving glance from Professor Snape, who (she hadn’t realised) was within hearing distance

“Another year gone” beamed the elderly Headmaster “A year in which friendships have been forged, lessons learnt and accomplishments achieved. I must, now, congratulate Slytherin, who have, again, won the Quidditch Cup. Well done Slytherin.” Dumbledore smiled and, reaching around, picked up the large, silver House Cup and placed it on the table in front of him.

“Now, as eager as you must be to sample our delicious feast, I must detain you for a moment longer, for the time has come for our House Cup, here, to be awarded." Dumbledore smiled "The points stand thus; in fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three-hundred-and-fifty-two points, in third place, Ravenclaw, with four-hundred-and-twenty-six. In second place, Slytherin” the serpent’s faces fell table and there were a few groans amongst the first years; they had hoped in vain “with five-hundred-and-thirty points and, in first place, Gryffindor, with five-hundred-and-sixty-one.”

Dumbledore smiled “However, I find that recent events must be taken into account”

Severus looked up sharply, his eyes burning with suspicion; if he was any judge, Dumbledore was about to do what he had expressly promised not to.

“Firstly, to Mr Theodore Nott, for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Slytherin five points.”

Amid the clapping, Theodore blushed scarlet. Draco, however, looked slightly put out “I helped win the game too, you know” the blond complained truculently.

“Secondly, to Miss Hermione Granger, for cool logic in the face of fire, and Mr Blaize Zabini, for his ability to think outside the box, I award Slytherin ten points.”

The Slytherin table clapped furiously, excited, expectant expressions on their faces; they had almost equalised.

Thirdly, to Mr Draco Malfoy, the second Slytherin to wield the sword of Gryffindor, and to Mr Harry Potter, for sheer nerve and courage, I award Slytherin ten points”

Heavy silence filled the hall as people frantically added up the scores; at the Gryffindor table, the students were triumphant- Slytherin were still two points away from winning the House Cup and all the first years involved in the defence of the Third Floor had already been rewarded.

Dumbledore smiled indulgently “And, finally, to Heidi Granger, for her spirited defence of the Slytherin Dorms against invisible intruders, I award Slytherin five points.”

As Slytherin resounded with cries of joy, laughter and spirited congratulations, the bunting turned green and, behind the teachers table, the banner darkened, the boarder deepening to black while the inside ceased at viridian, against which the stately, silver Slytherin serpent reclined, with his elegant head held high.

“Congratulations, Slytherin.” Dumbledore grinned like a naughty schoolboy, and sitting down, tucked into his duck a la Orange, pretending not to notice Severus fuming.

“Oh! Come on, Severus” Minerva said, shaking her head “You’ve won for the seventh year in a row, you should be pleased”

“The children should not be rewarded for their heroics, Minerva” he replied, shaking her proffered hand “It will just encourage them- not to mention others, who will seek to follow their example- to take matters into their own hands.”

Minerva, smiled into Severus’ concerned eyes “Bairns will always seek to act older than their years, Severus, and, if your House really is having a renaissance, if the next generation of Slytherins have become disciples of Salazar, rather than Phineas Nigellus, well, it’s all to the good, isn’t it?”

Severus smiled wryly and poured Minerva a goblet of wine “Well, here’s to House Unity. Although, I think your little lions might be rather less disposed” he indicated to the Gryffindor table, at which the students were sullenly picking at their food.

“They’ll get over it, Severus.” Minerva smiled, holding up her glass “Slàinte!”

“Skal!” Severus replied, chinking glasses. He caught Harry’s half-gleeful, half-anxious gaze and smiled, nodding his approval.

Harry grinned at his beloved father and, helping himself to a pasty and some chips, turned back to his friends’ animated discussion over who the first Slytherin to wield Gryffindor’s Sword might have been.

oOoOo

The eagerly awaited exam results brought yet more good news: Harry, to his delight, found that he had passed every exam with flying colours and, beside his ‘Defence Against the Dark Arts’ score were the mysterious words ‘Summa Cum Laude’, which, as Severus was pleased to inform his son, meant that Harry had passed with over ninety-five percent.

Every first year had passed and Blaise, Theo and Draco’s marks were almost as high as Harry’s, save that Draco’s was awarded one ‘E’, for History of Magic. However, to Draco, for whom dates went in one ear and out the other, that ‘E’ was as precious as any ‘summa cum laude’ and he proudly wrote to his parents, boasting of his success.

oOoOo

Tomorrow, the Hogwarts Express was to take Harry to London, from whence Severus would drive them to Winchester, a beautiful city where they were going to stay overnight, and, thence, to Cornwall. Admittedly, it would be faster to simply floo but both Severus and Harry knew that the journey would be an enjoyable experience, especially as Winchester, like London, has a hidden Wizarding settlement to explore.

Tonight, however, Harry was visiting Hissy for the first time since that fateful night. The eleven year old felt slightly guilty for neglecting the basilisk, he owed Hissy his life, yet every time he considered going down to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry had made an excuse: he knew that he had procrastinated because, that night, the basilisk had scared him but it was shameful to admit that as a reason. Tonight, he would make amends.

The Chamber was delightfully cool and airy, a sharp contrast from the humid summer heat, and Harry found himself glad to be here, in the catacombs. Something about this place was welcoming, secure. It felt like a second home.

*“Hello Harry, I hope you are safe in your scales”* Hissy psshed solicitously as Harry entered the Basilisk’s living quarters. The obsidian and sapphire snake was coiled up comfortably around Slytherin’s statue.

*“Hello Hissy”* Harry replied, smiling at the huge, sleepy, obsidian and sapphire snake. Relaxed like this, the basilisk looked much less threatening. “I’m fine, I was jusssst really tired, I guessssss.”*

Hissy nodded *“Ssssso you were, sssssilly hatchling. Why did you not asssssssk me? I would have given venom onto the evil one before he could take the life-giving-ssstone.”*

Harry blushed beetroot red *“I didn’t think!”*

The basilisk flicked his tongue resignedly *“Ever the sssssame, hatchingsssss biting big prey without their hatchersss’ eyesssesss: bruisssed ssscalesssss and broken fangssssss. Ssssssstill, no harm done thisss time.”*

Harry smiled and stroked Hissy’s silky snout. *“What happened, after I clossssssed my eyessss?”*

*“Bitten Two-legs woke and checked your heart and breath. He picked you up and ssssstarted lifting you to the door. I hissssed to him that you had dropped your falsssse fang and that I knew a better way out but he jussst ran away.”* Hissy fssed, irritated *“I think he thought I would bite him.”*

*“My falssse fa..?”* Harry gasped in horror *“Ssssssslitherin’ssss metal. I losssst it!”*

*“Do not scccchh, Harry.”* Hissy psshed comfortingly *“Nothing iss ever losssst in thissss nessst. The small-false-fang, the big-false-fang, they go ssssomewhere, they come again at need. Pigssspotsssss, Sssssssnakebitingtail, Firsssssstgarden, all are joined, all are one and the fangssss passss between them. You will find Ssssssslytherin’sss false-fang again.”*

Harry smiled at the kindly, old snake *“Why issss Sssslytherin’ss little-false-fang ssssunmetal and Gryffindor’s big-false-fang moonmetal?”*

Hissy pssshed *“They are both sssssssunmetal, hatchling: gold sun-metal and white sun-metal, like the summer and winter sun. Sssalazar’ssss basilisk, Ayumu, liked the sssummer, so he took gold-sssun-metal and leaf-ssstones ass hissssss.”* the basilisk explained. *“And Godric’s hatchers’ prey wassss white-sun-metal and they liked red ssssssstonesss, the colour of blood.”* Hissy flicked his tongue *“But Sssssalazar, hissss human blood liked the cool of winter and his ssscales were pale, whereasss Godric was hot-blooded, with golden scales like ssssssummer-sun. They decided to sssswap sun-metal in friendsssssship; Godric took gold, Ssssalazar took white.”* Hissy’s jaws opened in a serpentine smile *“They kept their ssssstonessss, however, ssso green mated with white, red with gold.”*

Harry grinned *“Ssso they changed ssssun-metalsss becausssse white-sun-metal looked better of Sssssslytherin and gold-sun-metal looked better on Godric?”* he said with a laugh.

*“Jusssst ssssso.”* Hissy pssshed *“Asssssss powerful asss a bassssssilissssk may be, he alwaysss wisssshesss to appear to hissss bessssst advantage.”*

Harry nodded, still tickled by the idea that Slytherin swapped yellow gold with white gold purely for the sake of vanity.

oOoOo

“Wake up Harry! We’ll be late!” cried Draco, shaking Harry’s arm.

“Hmm?” the raven haired boy sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Ten to nine!” Draco cried, still in his white and blue striped pyjamas. The blond boy grabbed an armful of clothing from his wardrobe and rushing over to dump it in his trunk.

“Damn! Why didn’t the others wake us!” moaned Harry, crawling out of bed and padding over to his own wardrobe. He threw the hanger which held his uniform onto the bed and scooped up an armful of jumpers and trousers, before tottering, still half asleep, to his trunk. Balancing the bulky bundle in one hand, Harry wrenched the trunk open…

To find Slytherin’s dagger: clean, shining and lying neatly on a note which read “Just in case.”

oOoOo

After a hurried breakfast of eggs, beans and sausages, Harry, Theo, Blaise and Draco traipsed down to the river bank, from whence Hagrid was going to sail them to the train-station.

“It’s kind of funny to think that this is the last time we’ll take these boats” sighed Blaise, looking across the beautiful, green grounds, dotted with daisies, to the smooth, navy lake, which shimmered in the summer sun.

Harry nodded sadly, as much as he loved the wild beauty of Uroborus, he knew that he would miss Hogwarts. A thought suddenly struck him “How to all the other kids get to the Hogwarts Express?”

“Threstral-drawn carriages” Theo said with a shudder “They give me the creeps.”

“They’re nice, threstrals!” Harry retorted, in defence of Nightshade, the beautiful filly he had flown throughout the summer.

“So they are, Harry” grinned Hagrid, catching their conversation. “Sweeter natured beasties yeh’ll not find anywhere. Like my Fluffy, heh?” he winked “Beats me how yeh knew that music were the trick, I’ve never told it to nobody else!”

“We found a book in the library” Draco grinned “Written by Heracles!”

“Ah, that’d do it!” Hagrid replied cheerfully. “Now, would yeh four like to come in me boat? I’ve got room enough.”

As Harry carefully stepped into the boat, it dawned on him that it was rather strange that, despite the rarity and value of his egg, the dragon-breeder allowed Hagrid to win it. Hagrid, who could not maintain a ‘poker face’ for love or money, Hagrid, who occasionally forgot the rules of snap, Hagrid who enthuse at length about magical creatures if anyone showed even a modicum of interest…

Harry shook his head. No point in even finishing that thought; Hagrid was happier not knowing. Ignorance is bliss.

oOoOo

After collecting their pets from the Menagerie-Carriage, a journey which took two trips for Blaise, whose owl, Hermes, regarded Balthazar with suspicion and mistrust, and a little careful organisation, Draco, Harry, Theo and Blaise settled into their seats, ready for the long journey to London.

“How do you think it’s going to be, seeing Hermione again?” Theo asked, resting his socked feet on Balthazar’s broad back. The large, lazy serpent hissed in contentment, his dark tongue almost as thick as Sal, who was coiled contentedly on top of his large head.

“I don’t know” Harry replied, smiling as Reggie, on noticing the nervousness in his boy’s voice, pressed his warm under-jaw against Harry’s cheek. “It’ll be okay, though, Hermione’s really easy to talk to and I kind of know what she’s going through.”

“And that Dudley boy is arriving the next week” Draco grimaced, looking as if he had a nasty taste in his mouth “You’re welcome to escape to ours, Harry.”

“Hey!” Theo exclaimed, glaring at Draco. “That’s mean!”

“I didn’t mean escape from Hermione” Draco sighed “She can come too. Mother’s very good with girls. They can, I don’t know, look over sample fabrics for dress robes if Hermione doesn’t feel up to joining in with us.”

Harry laughed “Hermione’s not that sort of girl. She’d prefer a book.”

“I know that but, well, reading isn’t good if you’re feeling down!” Draco retorted “Is it, Blaise?”

“I wouldn’t know” Blaise replied, turning over a page of the Daily Prophet “I scarcely ever get to read under any circumstances.”

Draco rolled his eyes and skimmed his hand over Isis’s back, smiling indulgently as she moved to follow his fingers. “Next year we can enter the Quidditch tryouts. Recon we’ll make the team, Harry?”

oOoOo

As the children chattered and laughed, consuming copious quantities of cakes, jelly beans and popping-cauldrons, the Hogwarts Express snaked through the countryside, glimmering like a ruby serpent as the landscape faded and softened; the slate rock of the mountains crumbling into rich, brown loam, dark, sharp evergreens tapering into to tender-leaved deciduous trees and hardy thistles and gorse brightening into poppies, cornflowers and ox-eye daisies.

Speeding the young serpents within it's carnelian scales ever onward, into a brighter, happier future.

Imagine.

A lithe, handsome boy, with rippling, jet hair, runs over to his beautiful mother, who stands tall and stately as Cleopatra, her hazelnut brown arms open and a smile on her scarlet lips. As he falls into his mother’s embrace, her dark braids tremble and she closes her midnight eyes in happiness. She helps her son push his trolley, loaded with trunks, an irate, brown owl and a gloating anaconda, through the barrier; they will take a portkey home, to northern Italy, where, outside their sun-bleached villa, Blaise’s grandparents will be waiting for them, the scent of breads and fresh made tomato sauce humming in the sultry air.

A gangly boy, all arms and legs, thuds off the train, his chestnut curtains swinging as he bumps his trunk and empty owl cage along with one hand, while the other grasps his excitable familiar, whose small, black head darts around so much that the blue horizontal stripes adorning his cheeks and back fizz like electric currents. A pretty, plump woman, her chestnut hair messily piled on top of her head, rushes over, levitating the trunk, whilst her lanky, slightly balding husband strolls behind her, flanked by two majestic dogs. He chuckles to himself as Theo, an embarrassed flush spreading across his lightly freckled cheekbones, is pulled into his mother’s embrace and, taking pity on the boy, calls to his wife that they better head off sharpish if they’re to get to ‘Flourish and Blotts’ before closing time.

Blond hair shining in the sunlight, a regal couple stand, awaiting their beloved, only child. He, a handsome, slender man, elegant in his dark, heavy robes, and she, a petite woman, whose traditional silver, suede gloves and boots are augmented by a modish, muggle-made trench-coat, which matches her sapphire eyes and emphasises her hourglass figure. Their wintry eyes shine with happiness as Draco bounces off the train, dragging his raven-haired best friend by the sleeve of his jumper, calling to Suvie to load his trunk, owl cages and Isis’s tank off the trolley, which Harry is desperately trying to keep upright.

And taller than any, dressed in a green polo and black trousers, with his long, black hair falling down his back like an inky waterfall, a father waits to welcome his son, to push the child's heavy trolley through the station, to load the bags into the boot of his Bentley as Harry takes the passenger seat; the favoured place by driver’s left hand, which had always been denied to Harry until this year, when he gained a parent in whose affections he would always be first.

Together they drive, windows open and stereo blaring, laughing together at Tom Lehrer’s lyrics, their voices, at first timidly, then spiritedly joined in song.

They arrive in Winchester, park the car. A quick, surreptitious wave of his wand as he opens the boot and Severus scoops out the now tiny trunks, placing them in his pocket, before guiding Harry to the handsome, Tudor Inn where they are to spend the night. In a comfortable, beautifully appointed room, Harry feeds Hedwig some owl treats, fills the bath in his en-suite with water for Reggie and unpacks his clothes, before changing into a crisp white shirt and black slacks for dinner.

A rap at his bedroom door, Severus is outside, waiting for his son to join him. Together they stroll down the waterfront, savouring the scents wafting from restaurants and pubs until they encounter one so delicious that it compels them to enter and order that self-same dish.

Over moussaka and garlic bread, Severus and Harry discuss their past, present and future, Severus’s dark eyes shining with joy as well as intelligence as he explains the mysteries of the universe to his young son. Whilst they wait for their treacle tart, Harry notices, for the first time, that a new set of lines have been indented into his father’s face; around Severus’ mouth, smiles have carved their signatures and the skin at the corners of his eyes is crinkled. That once pale, gaunt, anxious countenance has tanned, filled out, positively glows with happiness and, as Harry looks at his father, he realises that his own expression, his own heart, are both open and joyful.

And that, had Lily chosen Severus for the father of her child, Harry could be no more his son than he was now.