Runeskin was waiting in the foyer as the Snapes arrived back at Prince Manor; tired, dirty and hungry from the night’s happenings. A snap of the fingers and the back-packs had been sent up to their bedrooms to await unpacking, and with a sympathetic nod-and a quick cleaning charm over his charges - the chief house-elf had led them to a small dining room where a morning spread, fit for a king, was laid out on the sideboard.

The two teenagers moaned in pleasure as they descended upon the silver and china serving bowls that had steam rising up from under their lids. As they loaded their plates past the groaning point, Severus fixed himself a small plate of eggs, tomatoes, ham and a generous serving of coffee in a stay-hot mug the boys had gotten him that was easily four times the original size of a normal coffee cup. He always had his morning caffeine jolt in this mug now. It amused him to no end that they had picked out a mug with the saying “There is a fine line between genius and insanity; Thanks to my children, I have erased this line.” He was seriously considering taking it with him back to Hogwarts – he could just imagine the looks he would receive at the head table.

While Harry’s manners had improved over the last two years, he could still eat quickly like any other normal teen-ager; seemingly inhaling the over-laden plate of food. Severus didn’t mind, he was just happy that Harry was eating like a normal child now. Nevertheless, the lad would never be one to go to fat, he had too much of his father in him and the Snapes were known for being tall, lean and high metabolisms.

The boys finished before their father and excused themselves to go up to their rooms and see to their familiars and clean themselves properly. Severus lingered over his coffee, reading a stack of mail that had come in over the last day, summoning a quill and some parchment to write out answers when needed. An owl flew in the open window a few moments later carrying the morning edition of the Prophet. He set aside his work to see what the rag had to offer on the evening’s happenings.

He wasn’t surprised at the Ministry hush-up of the scare at the match; Percy running interference with the press for Crouch. Arthur had gotten cornered early in the morning as he’d returned to work and had given his non-answer before brushing past the press hounds. Severus tossed the paper into the bin on his way to his home laboratory, rolling up his sleeves as he strode into the immaculate room and summoned a number ten copper cauldron, placing it over a flame and humming to himself as he pulled ingredients off the shelves.

****

Past his better judgment, Snape let his sons ride the train to school after a whirlwind shopping trip through Diagon Alley. Both boys were growing and had exceeded the growth charms on their robes and school uniforms, necessitating a trip to Madam Malkins; and they both had extensive book lists for the year. And, too, after the disaster at the World Cup, Severus was making sure both boys had Arm Holsters for their wands and knew how to use them quickly. No more wands in jeans pockets.

After seeing them onto the train and watching as it pulled away from the station, Severus Apparated to the gates outside of Hogwarts and made his way quickly up to the castle to make sure the dungeons were prepared for the students that evening.

He was not surprised, therefore, when Dumbledore made an appearance at the classroom doors.

“Everything satisfactory, Severus?” the old man enquired, looking around at the immaculate dungeon classroom.

“Within reason. I’m low on some ingredients – but they are not needed until the end of the month; enough time for Jiggers to lay in a supply for me.” He closed the doors to the student ingredient cabinet, resetting the locking charms as he did so before turning to address the headmaster as he made his way up to his desk.

“Is everything in place for the Tournament?” he asked.

Albus nodded, slinging a hip onto a student desk where he perched like a large purple and white bird. “As much as we can before we know who will be participating. There are new rules this time around – no one under the age of seventeen can participate. I’ll be setting an age barrier around the cup.”

“That won’t stop someone who is bound and determined to participate, Albus.”

“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore ceded. “But it will keep the majority honest. It should stop Harry from participating, however.” He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a sweet, popping it in his mouth.

Severus looked up from where he was seated, perusing his syllabus for the coming week, alarmed. “Harry has no wish to participate, Albus. Contrary to popular opinion, he does not deliberately go out there glory-seeking. He would prefer this would all go away. Trust me, he won’t even think about joining this fiasco.” He dropped his eyes back to his papers, reading for a moment more before setting them firmly down on the desk.

“So, who did you finally get to take the Defence job?”

****

“So, Harry, who do you think we’re going to get to teach us Defence this year?” Ron asked after admiring Harry’s new wand holster.

“Who cares?” Harry shrugged, slipping his wand back into its leather sleeve, making sure it clicked into place. “We’ve only had one good one so far. As long they aren’t out to kill me, does it really matter?”

Draco smirked at his brother’s sarcasm. “I just hope they know whereof they speak,” he pointed out.

Hermione scoffed. “Lupin knew ‘whereof he spoke’ and it didn’t help in the slightest,” she stated. “He’s still gone. Lockhart was fairly knowledgeable…”

“’Fairly knowledgeable?’ Hermione, the man was a fraud – he did none of those things he wrote about! Other wizards did – he just took the credit and Obliviated their memories!” Ron argued. “You ask me, he’s where he belongs – in the loony bin!”

Hermione had the good sense to stay quiet, seeing as she was in a compartment full of boys that agreed with Ron’s assessment. Luna wasn’t any help, sitting quietly next to Draco and reading her magazine and Ginny was off with her third-year friends.

Luna had drifted into their cabin almost as soon as the train had taken off, dreamily said hello to everyone and then had quietly sat down next to the blond boy and pulled out her ‘zine to read. She hadn’t said a word since, and Draco didn’t seem uncomfortable with her there – he almost seemed protective of the waifish Ravenclaw.

Draco finally asked the question that had been burning inside of him since the World Cup. “So, there’s a rumour that was going around the World Cup that there is going to be something going on at Hogwarts this year. Anyone heard anything else?”

Ron was nearly bouncing in excitement. “Yeah, Percy, Bill and Charlie kept whispering all last week and would shut-up the second one of us younger ones came in the room. Something’s definitely up – but they’re all hush-hush about it.”

“Father says that Minister Fudge is digging tunnels under the school to store all his ill-gotten gain from his nefarious dealings with the Goblins,” piped up a small little voice. Everyone stared incredulously at Luna. “It’s true,” she continued, “He’s devoting a whole issue to it next month.”

“A whole issue of what?” Hermione asked derisively.

“The Quibbler; my father’s the editor,” Luna explained patiently, holding up the magazine so that the other girl could read the front cover.

“The Quibbler! That’s nothing but a... lovely periodical,” she quickly amended after Harry elbowed her in the ribs. She gingerly rubbed her hand over the sore area while Harry apologised pointedly. Luna gave them a puzzled smile then returned to her reading after murmuring a thank you to Hermione.

Before they knew it, they were standing on a wet train platform desperately trying to pile into a carriage that would take them up to the warm castle on the hilltop before they became soaked to the skin. When they were all settled, Hermione cast warming charms over her carriage mates as the conveyances rumbled up the narrow lane to the school, letting the students off at the sheltered portico that led to the main doors of the castle.

The lights were warmly welcoming as they climbed the wide stairs to the Great Hall entrance, streaming to their seats at their house tables. Harry and Draco parted at the doors with smiles and brotherly pats on the back. Before too long, the first years were sorted and the tables had suddenly groaned under the weight of all the food that suddenly appeared.

Harry had noticed his Dad checking to make sure he and his brother were fine before aiming his attention to his snakes. Harry noticed that the girls – Millicent and Pansy – were taking an interest in the new firsties, showing them the ropes. While he hated Nott’s gang with a passion, the girls were nice enough – and they appeared to have... matured... over the summer, he noted with a sudden need to swallow convulsively. Then his eyes were drawn to the Ravenclaw table where Draco was sitting next to their seeker, an absolutely gorgeous Asian girl named Cho Chang. He felt the need to swallow again as her eyes lighted on his, and he totally missed Hermione waving her hand in front of his face – and he probably wouldn’t have noticed his fork sticking into his cheek if it hadn’t been so sharp. But it was what he needed to bring him down to earth. He blushed as the girl giggled at his table faux pas before turning away from watching him.

“Earth to Harry,” Hermione tried again.

“Huh? Oh... Sorry. I was distracted...”

“I should say so,” she said with a small smile tugging at her mouth. “She’s quite pretty...”

“Who?” he asked, trying to act nonchalant as he reached for a pastry off of the desert tray that had just popped up.

“Honestly, Harry; Cho of course. I noticed you locking eyes there for a moment,” his best friend teased.

“Yeah...” he sighed, resting his chin in his hand. “But I’ve no chance with her; she’s older, smarter and so much better looking...”

“Harry, ever since your glamours were broken, you’ve had your growth spurts, you’ve let your hair grow out,” she said, as he self-consciously threw the long plait over his shoulder, “you are considered quite the catch around here, you know,” Hermione pointed out. Lavender and Parvati were eagerly nodding their heads in agreement. Harry looked at the three girls as if they’d lost their minds.

“Whatever,” he mumbled pushing his glasses back up on his nose, glad that Dumbledore had decided to get the rooms attention at that moment. He turned away from them and focused his attention to the head table. He noticed that the Defence seat was still untaken. He wondered where the new professor was.

“Now that we have feasted on the wonderful cooking of our kitchen elves, there are several announcements to be made. First, Mr Filch has posted an expanded list of banned products on the door of his office; I suggest you all make yourselves aware of its contents.

“Secondly, as I’m sure you have noticed, we are currently without a defence instructor. Never fear, you shall have one by tomorrow – he was delayed this evening and had to miss the welcoming feast.” He waited out the expected murmuring before continuing.

“Thirdly, I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be playing host to two other schools this season, as the Ministry of Magical Cooperation has seen fit to host a Tri-Wizard tournament this year with the winner taking home ten thousand galleons.” He paused as the noise amongst the students rose to a fevered pitch.

“A scroll has been posted in each common room explaining the history behind the tournament, and its rules this time around; but I do need to point out that only students who have reached their majority, that is their seventeenth birthday, by October thirty-first will be able to participate.” Loud arguing could be heard as several of the older years realised that they did not qualify with that rule alone; the Weasley twins being some of the most vocal. Apparently they had designs on that money; they wanted to start a joke shop after they left school and had been spending the summer perfecting new products, to their mother’s annoyance. Harry knew they had won quite a lot on that wager with Bagman, they couldn’t have gone through that money that quickly, could they? He was about to ask Ron when Dumbledore cried for quiet again, having to let loose with a sonorous charm on his voice to make sure he was heard.

The booming sound of his voice shut the room up immediately, and he cast a quick finite before resuming. “Thank you. I’m sorry, but in order to minimise the risk of injury, as the tasks the champions will be asked to perform are quite dangerous and designed for only the most powerful and trained young wizards and witches in mind, the age requirement is one we can not suspend. Now, I’m sure you all have questions and the parchments in the towers will explain all. It is getting late and classes start bright and early in the morning; so chop, chop - off to bed!” He shooed them out and the students reluctantly began to scatter toward the doors and out to the towers, prefects leading the first-years.

Severus had captured his sons’ eyes and they knew to stay behind. Draco headed over to sit next to Harry at the Gryffindor table as they waited for Severus to give instructions to his prefects before striding over to them. He motioned them to rise and walk with him as he headed out to the entrance hall.

“I trust both of you - you especially, Harry - are not planning on attempting to participate in this foolish spectacle.”

Draco shook his head violently; he had no wish to subject himself to certain death. Harry looked exasperatedly at his father. “Dad, I’m not stupid, I’ve read the history books in the library at home: I know what happens in this tournament, I do not plan on putting my name in. Besides, I’m sure Dumbledore will make sure there is no way an underage student could even attempt it!”

“Good. I just needed to make sure. I told the headmaster that you wouldn’t be interested, but he seemed to think otherwise. And yes, you are correct; he is ensuring that underage students will not be able to attempt to enter.”

Harry snorted, looking around to make sure they were private. “Why he thinks he knows me is beyond me. He still thinks I’m James reincarnated.” He tossed his long hair back over his shoulder, frowning.

“I agree, Son,” Severus assured him. “Albus is a bit short-sighted when it comes to you, so keep your nose clean this term and don’t give him any fuel to use against you,” he advised.

Harry was about to reassure his father when the creaking of the Great Doors and a blast of cold, wet wind heralded the arrival of someone to the castle. The Snapes turned as one towards the entrance and a flash of lightening backlit a collection of ragged and dripping robes as they eased past the open door. At first Harry thought it was a strange animal that had entered, then realised that the person was carrying a crutch to help offset the wooden leg that was pounding across the entrance way towards them, water streaming from the sparse hair. As the figure entered the light from the Great Hall, he could see that it was a grizzled older man; scars criss-crossed his face and a large divot was missing from the side of his nose. One eye seemed larger than the other and as Harry watched, it began to swirl in place – apparently able to turn completely around in its socket. It both fascinated and sickened him. He felt Draco scooting closer to him, away from this person.

“Snape,” the man acknowledged coldly. His eyes swept from Snape’s face down to his left arm where they stayed focused for a moment.

“Moody,” Snape sent back. His hands were crossed in front of his chest, but his fingers were not far from his wand holster. He stared down his nose at the shorter man. “About time you showed up,” he added.

“One of my traps went off this morning – had to wait for the Aurors and Ministry officials to show up,” the man grumbled.

“Ah, yes, I believe I saw the report on that this afternoon – trash bins exploding, I remember? Really, Moody, you expect Dark Wizards to be hiding out in your rubbish bins?” He smirked at the other wizard.  “Boys, this is Alastor Moody, ex-Auror and paranoid extraordinaire.” He paused before continuing. “Your new Defence instructor.”

Harry and Draco murmured polite hellos as they tried not to stare at the eccentric old man, and failing miserably.

“And these are...?” Moody prompted, pinning the two in place with his wonky eye. Harry was certain it could see right through his robes.

“My sons: Harry and Draco Snape.” The ex-Auror’s eyes brightened with recognition – the one spinning faster in excitement.

“Really?” He peered closer at Harry’s face searching out and finally spotting the famous lightning bolt -shaped scar that peeked out from under his fringe. A hand holding a wand made as if to sweep the hair aside to see better, but Severus knocked it aside as Harry scooted backward out of the way, sending a scathing glance at the older Wizard.

“Watch it, Moody – no one touches my sons!” Snape snarled. “Unless, of course, you want a wooden arm to match the wooden leg? I’d be more than happy to oblige.” Moody glared back, but lowered his hand and cocked his head towards Dumbledore who had entered the hall as well.

“Alastor, glad you could make it. Why don’t you let these boys get back to their dorms – it is quite late and we’ve all had long days...” he sweet-talked the new professor as he led him towards the stairway that climbed to the teacher’s quarters. The Snapes watched as he was manoeuvred away and waited until he was out of sight before breathing a collected sigh of relief.

“Harry, don’t forget what I said,” Severus reminded his son.

“I won’t, Dad. I’ll  see you tomorrow,” he assured his father, letting the man embrace him quickly before parting ways from the other two and hightailing it up the stairs to his tower.

****

“Draco?”

Draco tensed up then sighed. He’d expected her to approach eventually, but really had been hoping she’d give up. It didn’t help that the Ravenclaws were paired with the Slytherins in Herbology this year. He dusted his hands of rich loam and turned to face the girl who’d approached.

“What is it, Pansy?” he acknowledged, reaching in front of him for the next snapping nettle he needed to repot. He had spared her a glance, which he felt was all she truly deserved. He winced internally as he saw the false simper on her face.

“Why aren’t you talking to me anymore?” she asked. “We’ve been promised since we were babies...”

“Pansy, that agreement was broken when I was disowned. I have a new family now, and I doubt my father would want to renew the arrangement.” He jerked as he felt her hand rest on his bicep, gently squeezing the Quidditch-toned muscle underneath his robe sleeves. He pointedly grabbed her hand and dropped it to her side before taking a step out of her reach, only to have her advance forward. He growled under his breath.

“But Drakey-poo...”

“Pansy,” he snarled – Merlin, he hated that sobriquet, “get it through your head: I am not now, nor have I ever been, interested in you as a future partner. It was a political arrangement through our sires and has been nullified. And before you ask,” he added when she opened her mouth, “+no, I do not want to renew it under my new family situation.” He gave her a raking glance before dismissing her with a parting comment, “And don’t ever call me that horrid pet-name again or I’ll have to hex you.”

“Is there a problem here, Mr Snape?” Professor Sprout asked as she made her rounds.

“No ma’am. Pansy was just asking a question and now she’s leaving,” he said coldly, directing his words to the Slytherin girl.

“Miss Parkinson? I believe your station is over there,” the professor indicated with her spade. The girl murmured something as she turned and walked back to her spot, throwing Draco one last look, which he ignored. “Carry on, class,” the teacher continued, walking between the tables.

“That was a close one,” Terry whispered. Draco could only nod his head, patting the soil a little more firmly than he should and getting his fingers snapped at for his troubles by the baby plant.

***

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

Harry and Draco jumped as Moody’s hand slammed on the edge of their desk, scooting away from the man as he stumped along the aisle between the desks.

“I am here to teach you to defend yourselves against the forces of evil out there. In order to survive, you must be alert, ready to defend at a moments notice, and be able to cast accurately! Anyone could mean you harm, even the most innocuous of appearing people. Many of He-who-must-not-be-named’s followers were people you’d never suspect in a million years!”

It was a testament to how cowed the class was that you could have heard a pin drop as the professor made his way across the back of the classroom and back up the second aisle.

“And how did he do it? How did he hide all those followers where no one would realise who they were?” He scanned across the room until he landed upon a likely victim.

“Weasley!”

Ron jumped, gulping loudly as he answered, “Yes, sir?”

“What spells can you tell your class about that the Dark Lord would’ve liked to use?”

“Well, my dad told me about one spell... but he said it was unforgiveable.”

“Aye, and what spell would that be, laddie?” the ex-Auror barked.

“The Imperius curse,” Ron replied weakly.

“Exactly! The Imperius Curse! One of three Unforgiveable spells in His arsenal.” He waved his hand and a piece of chalk began to squeakily write on the blackboard the word UNFORGIVEABLE in large, bold letters and the word Imperio underneath it before stopping in mid-air.

“Now, who shall we demonstrate this on? Hmmm...” he hummed as his eye swirled around in its socket. “Nott, come here! Now, boy!” he yelled, emphasising the last two words with thumps of his crutch.  Nott hurried forward, skidding to a stop in front of the professor. Moody dropped his wand in his hand, raising it partway towards the trembling boy.

“Watch carefully, everyone... Imperio!” he intoned.

Harry watched as a slack-jawed look came over Theodore, his eyes glazing over and goofy grin plastering itself on his face.

“Hop on one foot!” the professor commanded and sure enough, Nott began hopping in place on one foot. Moody walked around the bouncing Slytherin and began lecturing the class. “Now, he will continue to do that or anything else I ask him... Nott, flap your arms like a bird... until I remove the spell or give him something else to do.” Moody ignored the snickers coming from several areas of the room as Nott was still jumping on one foot while flapping his arms like a large bird. “This spell can last for years at a time and it is hard to detect if done correctly. Many of You-Know-Who’s followers got out of prison by claiming they were under the Imperious.” He waved his wand quickly at Nott, murmuring “Finite,” and then shooed the boy, who couldn’t figure out why his arms and left leg were hurting, back to his seat.

“Longbottom! Sit up straight, lad! Give me another Unforgiveable Curse,” he demanded.

Harry could hear Neville shifting in his seat and mumbling behind him.

“Speak up, Longbottom, I don’t think the class could hear you.”

“The – the Cruciatus, sir.”

“CORRECT!” Moody thundered, banging his crutch in approval and the piece of chalk quickly wrote Crucio underneath the previous incantation. He went to a jar on a table that held several insects, reaching in and pulling one out, setting it on the table in front of the students. “Engorgio. Yes, Longbottom, you would be very familiar with this curse, wouldn’t you... I believe your parents are still at St Mungo’s suffering the effects of that, aren’t they?” If looks could kill, Moody would be smouldering pile of ash, by the looks that Neville, Ron and Hermione sent him. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs side of the class turned decidedly frosty. In contrast, the Slytherin’s were having a field day; Nott and Zabini taunting Neville.

Moody whirled around, “SILENCE!” and the class immediately shut up. “Think it’s funny, do you? Then watch!” Pointing his wand at the now-large bug, the professor chanted “Crucio!” and the bug began to squirm and writhe on the table-top, a high pitched whine coming from it. The Patil sisters hid their heads in their arms, Lavender, Pansy and Millicent had large tears rolling down their faces, but it was Hermione who stunned them all by finally crying out.

“Stop it!”

Moody jerked his wand up, breaking the connection with the insect who collapsed in tangle of limbs on the table.

“Can’t you see what you were doing to him?” Hermione persisted, pointing at Neville across the aisle from her. Harry followed her finger, as did the rest of the class, to see Ron holding up the larger boy who was quite pale and had broken out in a cold sweat.

Moody walked over to the student, placing a hand on his shaking shoulder. “Do you need to see the Madam, Longbottom?” Despite Ron’s urging, Neville took a deep shuddering breath and seemed to regain his composure. He shook his head at the teacher.

“I’m alright, sir.” Moody just squeezed his shoulder again.

“See me after class,” he declared and Neville agreed with a nod.

Moody cleared his throat before clomping back to the front of the class. “Now, remember I said there were three Unforgiveable curses. Who can give me the final one?”

Next to Harry, Draco tentatively raised his hand while giving an apologetic look at his brother.

“Snape!”

“The Avada Kedavra, sir.”

“Precisely. And what does it do?” he prompted Draco.

“It’s the killing curse, professor. Nothing can stop it, it always kills.”

“Incorrect, Mr Snape. There has been one exception since this spell was created; who can tell me who it is? Miss Granger?”

“Harry, sir,” she whispered.

“Correct! Harry Potter-Snape is the only known survivor of the Avada Kedavra curse, and none know why. In fact, it is presumed that he reflected the spell back on its caster, rendering the individual – in this case the Dark Lord – dead.”

Harry slumped in his seat, his ears flaming red. He wanted to run away and hide.

“PAY ATTENTION!” Moody yelled, causing the entire class to jump. They had all missed the chalk writing the final curse on the blackboard, and it stood out in glowing neon green. Harry dragged his eyes away from it to watch the professor point his wand at the heaving insect that had yet to recover completely from the round of Crucio.

“Avada Kedavra,” Moody hissed, sounding almost maniacally pleased as the green spell leapt from the end of his wand and surrounded the bug, killing it instantly. Harry had a moment of flashback where he saw the green light from his dreams, and he whispered, “Mum...”. Draco shook him out of his stupor and he raised his eyes to those of his teacher who was staring at him as if Harry was now the bug; a bug to be studied and taken apart. Harry shivered, breaking the eye contact and he wrote down the homework assignment half-heartedly in his planner before shoving it all in his backpack. He stopped next to Neville’s seat on the way toward the door.

“Nev, you don’t have to stay, you can come with us down to my dad’s rooms... I don’t trust this guy.” Harry whispered.

“It’s alright, Harry, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at dinner,” Neville reassured his friend with a slight smile. Harry could tell he didn’t mean it, but felt pretty sure the professor wouldn’t do anything stupid. So he shrugged and continued on his way out the door with Ron, Draco and Hermione in tow.  They headed down to Severus’ quarters where they were meeting twice a week in study sessions before dinner.

Severus looked up from his home desk when the teens trooped in, collapsing in heaps on the two sofas in the parlour. He capped his ink and laid his quill down before heading over to the Floo to order a tea tray and taking his rest in his wing-backed chair.

“So, Defence with Professor Moody; how was it?” Well, how could he have known it was the exact wrong question to ask? They all began talking at once, gesturing and heatedly explaining the apparently traumatic lesson. He raised his hands to command their silence which, after three years of training, they complied with immediately.

“One at a time, please; Draco?”

“Dad, the man is scary. He was showing us the Unforgiveable curses – and not just talking about them in an abstract way, he was casting them! He cast Imperio on Nott, Crucio and Avada Kedavra on a spider. Longbottom nearly went catatonic in class after Moody told the entire class why his parents are in St Mungo’s and then cast the spell on the bug...” He trailed off, looking at Severus as the man stared at the pale faces in front of him. Harry didn’t look far from collapse himself, but he held himself stiffly not giving in to the emotions.

“Merlin save us,” Snape whispered. “We’ve a madman loose amongst us.” He stood up and began pacing as the tea tray materialised on the table in front of the Floo. No one made a move toward it, not even Ron.

“Dumbledore won’t be a help, I’m pretty sure he sanctioned this. We all have to tell the headmaster what we are going to be teaching and how, and he would have nixed the idea if he didn’t agree with it. What is the old man up to?” It was obviously a rhetorical question and none of the teens made even a peep towards answering it.

After several moments, Severus returned to his chair, folding his long limbs back into it. He was silent for several more minutes as he poured everyone some tea and summoned calming and restorative draughts to lace the tea with, encouraging them all to drink it up. Colour soon returned to their faces and Harry’s breathing seemed to ease. They had spoken a few times about the AK curse and its significance to Harry; it was another thing entirely to see it in action – even on a spider. Severus would need to make some time to talk with his son some more.

“What can we do, Dad?” Draco asked.

“What can you do? Go to class, do the assignments. If you have to, refuse to do anything that looks dangerous. He is a crafty Auror, knows his stuff. I may not agree with his methods, or the subject matter – but Albus refuses to give me the post, although granted - all my previous attempts were half-hearted at best. I may have to be more persuasive next year.”

The teens all seemed cheered up at the prospect as they had all learned a great deal in his impromptu lessons over the last year, especially when they visited the manor and had their martial arts lessons. They just needed to survive this year.

“Now, get started on that homework – I believe I assigned three feet this morning?” he prompted, raising his left eyebrow in suggestion. He chuckled darkly as they all scrambled for their book bags.