The din from the celebration taking place in the Great Hall floated out the large oak doors and through hallways of the Castle. But up on the third floor, at the end of a long corridor, it was blessedly silent.

Severus Snape had made the mandatory appearance at the Leaving Feast and had now come to Professor Vector's office to leave a note regarding their planned tandem classes for the following school year.

He finished his note and tossed the quill upon the desk, then leaned back in the old creaking, wooden chair and sighed as he reflected upon the school year that had just come to a close.

What a year it had been, intolerably long and infinitely frustrating.

Snape thought about all that had taken place: the interference by the Ministry and how Dolores Umbridge had wracked havoc upon the lives of the students and the professors.

The Fates had taken care of the matron toad, using the Centaurs as their tool of justice. That small victory was sweet and Severus indulged himself with a smirk of satisfaction, but his smile vanished as his thoughts moved onto the other individual who had been visited by the three ladies of destiny, Sirius Black.

That death left Snape at odds.To some degree, Snape felt vindicated for a past injustice but at the same time he felt disquieted. For even though the cruel trick that Black had played on him, all those many years ago warranted justice, death seemed to be a rather heavy price to pay.

Snape then considered the fiasco that had just transpired at the Ministry what with Potter racing off like a typical Gryffindor, all courage and no forethought. The mutt had done the same and both he and his godson, because of their foolish recklessness, had played right into the Dark Lord's hand.

Potter always seemed to vex Snape, but the fact that the brat had witnessed this death left even the cold hearted potion master with a small bit of pity for the boy.

His mind moved on to what was undoubtedly the most unbelievable event of all — the possession.

What must it have felt like to Potter? His connection to the Dark Lord, the insights gained and then to have survived intact.Of course, ‘intact’ could only be considered in relative terms; yet still, Snape was more than intrigued and perhaps even a bit envious. If so much enmity didn't exist between Potter and himself, he would have entertained the thought of asking the young wizard to describe his impressions and recollections of the event.

The sudden intrusion of voices from the adjoining room disrupted Snape's musings.Immediately recognizing the participants in the conversation, he closed his eyes and drew a steadying breath. Dear Merlin, not... him. 

The door that separated the office from the classroom was ajar.For a moment, Snape pondered what to do: Close the door? Or stand and approach in order to get a better look?

He settled for staying seated at the desk — and listened.

"Anyway — it doesn't matter — Sirius won't care if it's unusual, he'll come back, I know he will!”

"He will not come back. He will have ... gone on."

"What d'you mean, 'gone on'? Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn't everyone come back? Why isn't this place full of ghosts? Why─ ?"

"I cannot answer."

"But you're dead, aren't you? Who can answer better than you?"  

"I was afraid of death," said Nick. "I chose to remain behind. I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries … "

"Don't talk to me about that place!"

"I am sorry not to have been more help. Well ... do excuse me ... the feast, you know ..." **

Snape closed his eyes and wished vehemently that he had not witnessed this conversation. The timbre of the dialog and the desperation in Potter's voice had disrupted the quiet placidity of his previous musings. Even so, the intensity between Potter and the ghost sparked Snape's curiosity, so he stood and moved silently toward the door to espy on young Potter.

The unnerving sight that greeted him convinced Snape that he should have stayed seated at the desk.

The young wizard was standing motionless on the opposite side of the room, staring fixedly at the place in the wall through which Nick must have just disappeared. Potter’s devastation was displayed with blatant clarity by his expression. 

In a few moments, his entire frame began to shake as he succumbed to his grief. He sank to his knees and finally released his sorrow and anguish over the loss of Sirius.

"Sirius,” he cried, “I'm so sorry! I never should have...”He choked on his tears. “It was all my fault that … "Harry's sobs were making it almost impossible for him to speak.

He cried for the longest time. At one point, he reached out with his hand, trying to find support as he trembled with grief. The instant he made contact with the wall of the classroom, the castle began to shake. 

Snape was astounded at the sight of the phenomenon: that a mere touch from Harry's hand could actually cause Hogwarts to shake on its very foundation. But even more remarkable was the casual manner in which Harry simply withdrew his hand, putting an end to the shaking — as if it was an everyday occurrence.

Harry continued his mournful lament for Sirius: apologizing, expressing all that they could have shared and lamenting the 'what ifs' and 'if only'.

But eventually his crying eased.

After what seemed like an eternity, Snape watched Harry as he stood, made his way to the classroom door and drew a fortifying breath. He valiantly wiped away the tears and assumed his typical determined look.

The classroom had been his only private place to mourn, to be just Harry who missed his Godfather terribly and berated himself for the horrible mistake he had made. 

But now he had to lay down his anguish, leave his humble sanctum and return to the school, return to being the Boy-Who-Lived.

Wrenching open the door, Harry squared his shoulders and quickly departed the classroom.

Snape opened the door fully and stared at the now empty classroom. 

This disturbing incident he’d just witnessed had left him feeling jostled — more so than he cared to acknowledge.

He had always assumed that the smug expression Harry wore was one of defiance, but he had been wrong.It was a shield, a barrier of sorts, worn like a suit of armor to protect what was apparently a vulnerable and injured young man. 

What Snape had seen and heard in that classroom awoke within him memories and feelings from his own childhood — of something, someone that had been very dear to him.  

A shadow of a face drifted to the edge of his memories."No!” he called out. “I will not think about these things!"  

Snape vehemently closed his eyes and cringed as he pushed the unwanted memories and awareness back down to that little dark corner of his soul where they had lived for years — safely buried.

He had to take a few steadying breaths, but then he opened his eyes and walked out into the empty classroom.

He gazed at the spot where Harry and the ghost had stood.

For all his years of spying, the conversation between this teenager and ghost had unsettled him, far more than any interaction he’d ever had with his fellow Death Eaters or even the Dark Lord himself.

Harry stood on the floor of the death chamber looking up at the dais; a thick silence permeated the room.  As he moved hesitantly forward through the still suffocating air, his steps took him upward toward the stone archway; its veil fluttered gently despite the stillness. In front of the veil stood Sirius.  His godfather watched as Harry made his way toward him.  Coming face to face, the two men stood and silently gazed upon each other. Then Harry lifted his hand until it came to rest flat against Sirius's chest. The older man stared down at his godson's hand then he slowly looked up and with a questioning expression, Sirius stared into green eyes which were full of sadness and regret. Harry shook his head slightly as he leaned forward and pushed Sirius backward into the veil.

Harry awoke with a start and sat up abruptly. He was covered in a cold sweat and was panting. He shook with fear while trying to recover from his latest nightmare.

It had been another miserable night; a miserable night that had followed yet another miserable day. And now, another miserable morning greeted him with the familiar pounding in his head and stinging of his scar. 

He had lost count by now: lost count of the days, the nights, the headaches and the nightmares.

He lay back down and pulled the covers closely around him, trying to offset the cold that seemed to permeate every part of him and replayed the scene from his nightmare over and over again, watching as Nightmare Harry pushed Sirius into the veil — into death.

Familiar tears began to slide down his cheeks and Harry's thoughts moved from the nightmare to his conversation with Nearly Headless Nick the night of the Leaving Feast, and then to his breakdown just after the ghost left the classroom. 

He remembered being overwhelmed with grief; its intensity had been so great that it took away all his strength and left him sobbing. It had taken some time, but he'd managed to rein in all those emotions and pushed them down deep ... where they needed to be, where they had to stay. 

Ever since that night, Harry had managed to keep the sobs under control. Yet despite all his determination, the irrepressible tears had taken on a life of their own. They would start up without warning, silently sliding down his cheeks, betraying his resolve. But if their presence was what it took for him to avoid the wrenching sobs, he'd take it.

It was just after dawn and the house on Privet Drive was still quiet. Sick of lying there thinking of Sirius, sick of his head aching, sick of everything and everyone; Harry quietly dragged himself out of bed. He pulled on the clothes he had worn for — how many days now?  It didn't matter. 

He padded downstairs to the kitchen; prepared breakfast for the Dursleys then was out the back door by the time they started to stir.

This had become his routine since returning to Surrey that summer. 

His uncle, livid and agitated after the warning delivered to him at King's Cross, decreed that Harry was to "stay out of sight for the entire summer, or there would be hell to pay", and then proceeded to give him a taste of what that 'hell' would be. The bruises had not yet faded from his Uncle's demonstration.

Of course, he was to complete his many chores, the "means for earning his keep". No matter how fast he worked, it was always afternoon before he could finish all that his Aunt had assigned him for the day, and by then his room was like an oven.

So Harry would leave the house to wander during the heat of the day. He never wandered far, as he had to stay within the security wards; but at the end of each day he'd slip quietly back into the house late each evening and retire to his hot room. 

Harry sat in the garden shed, half-heartedly munching on a piece of toast while his family finished breakfast.

And as he ate, he sat and listened to the voice in his head, scolding him for getting friends injured and his godfather killed.  Bit by bit, that incessant voice wore at Harry's spirit.  The guilt robbed him of appetite, just as the wanderings and chores chipped away at his already slim frame.  The sleepless nights, the headaches and the nightmares were also claiming their toll. 

The descent into the miasma of his depression was slow and specious.  The days following the disaster at the Ministry and the Headmaster's revelation of the prophecy; Harry had been in shock, and those first few days in Surrey he had walked around in a daze. 

As he went through his daily routine of chores and walks, Harry had only his inner voice with which to process all that had happened: the loss of Sirius, his injured friends, Voldemort taking possession of him and being inside him, his mind and his very soul. 

Just thinking of that experience made him nauseated.  But as horrible as that experience had been and as awful as was the prospect of never seeing his godfather again, there was one glaring truth that threatened to crush Harry; the fact that everything that had taken place had all happened because of his terrible mistake in judgment. 

It nearly killed him every time he thought of this fact, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it.

Over and over again, the voice in his head would chastise him. It's your own stupid fault. You did this to him. You hurt your friends. You deserve to be alone and miserable. 

It wasn't long before Harry completely agreed with this reprimanding voice, and he felt that this place where his mind and body were, this state of misery somehow felt right —  sad, but right.

He was so miserable and depressed that at times he thought about ending everything.  A couple of times he'd even gone to sit by the tracks and watch the commuter train barrel on by. 

It would be so easy to step up onto the tracks just in front of the train. But he knew he couldn't do it; not that he didn't want to, but because he had to live to defeat Voldemort.

 Maybe I'll get lucky and die at the same time Voldemort dies. That convoluted thought was the only thing that brought a smile to his face these days.  He held onto the idea that when and if he could bring down Voldemort, then hopefully his life would also end, justice would be served and he would join his Mother, Father and Sirius.

Ron and Hermione sent their letters as promised, but his guilt about their near deaths precluded him from reaching out to them.  Remus hadn't written and Harry believed that Remus probably held him responsible for what had happened to Sirius. 

Harry sent off his required letters every three days, always stating the same platitudes — that he was fine and such.  He really didn't want any of them coming to check up on him.  He was content living in his realm of isolation and sadness. He just knew that this was where he should be.

~~~~~~

Returning to his dark, stifling hot bedroom late the Saturday night preceding his sixteenth birthday, Harry noticed an envelope lying upon his nightstand patiently waiting his attention. Picking up the missive, he tore back the flap, pulled out the letter and began to read.

Hey Harry, 

You know what today is?  It's the last time you'll ever be fifeen years old on a Friday.  We're all set for your big sixteenth birthday party. Four more days, I can hardly wait.  Mum's going to bake the biggest cake, and Fred and George made some special fireworks (don't tell them I told you, it's supposed to be a surprise!) It's going to be a blast. Anyway, Dad will fetch you the night before your birthday.  He says for you to make sure you're all packed and ready to go when he gets there.  No worries mate, he knows not to use the Floo now.  He's going to Apparate over, and then Side-Along you back here.  Know what else, Harry?  Dumbledore said you could stay here the rest of the summer!  Isn't that great? We can fly everyday and throw gnomes at Ginny. We're gonna have so much fun.

I can't wait to see you,

Ron

Harry stood frozen, just staring at the letter.  No matter how long he looked at the writing, the words all remained the same, nothing changed. 

What am I going to do?  He’d completely forgotten about this planned party and he definitely didn't want to celebrate his birthday, knowing that Sirius would have no more. 

He decided then and there that he wouldn’t go; that he’d stay in Little Whinging, away from the Burrow and well away from the Weasleys.  

He sighed and walked over to the open window.  Hedwig, who spent most her time outside because of the heat, had not yet returned from the night's hunting.  Alone as usual, Harry was left with only his inner voice to process this latest dilemma.

~~~~~~

Early the following morning, up in his bedroom at the Burrow, Ron was pulling on a pair of shorts when Hedwig swooped in through his open window. He nearly toppled over when she landed decidedly upon his shoulder.

"Hedwig, you bloody bird; you almost gave me a heart-attack!"

Not one to be deterred from her duty, let alone be chastised by this redhead, Hedwig responded by firmly shoving Harry's letter right under Ron's nose.

"All right, all right already.  You don't have to be so pushy."

Relieved of her parcel, the snowy owl flew over to sit on the window sill and set her gaze to stare intently at Ron.

"Look, I'm opening it already. See?"

Satisfied, Hedwig hooted her farewell and took off without any further delay. If there had been any possibility of success, she would have grabbed hold of Ron's hair and brought him with her.  She was so worried about her Harry. The best she could do was to get back as soon as possible, and keep an eye on him.

"That bloody bird is insane," Ron muttered to himself as he tore open the envelope and pulled out Harry's letter.

Hi there Ron,

Say, thanks for the invitation but I've got a bugger of a cold. I’ve had it for weeks. You lot don’t want to catch this, so I think I’ll just stay here until it’s time for school to start.  Don’t worry about me. Aunt Petunia’s been great. I’m just going to rest up until September 1st. See you at King’s Cross.

Harry

Ron stared dumbfounded at the letter trying to make some sense out of it. Harry?  Not want to celebrate his birthday for once in his life? Not want to come to the Burrow for the rest of the summer?  His aunt being nice? 

This letter didn’t make any sense, not one bloody bit.

Ron jumped into action, raced out of his room and headed for the kitchen.

Bounding down the stairs and sounding like a herd of stampeding Hippogriffs, he made it to the kitchen in two shakes time. He knew that his dad had been called into work this Saturday and Ron wanted to be sure to catch him before he left.

"Oi Dad, hold up!"

"Ronald Weasley!" bellowed his mother. "How many times have I told you not to run through the house!"

"Sorry Mum, but I had to catch Dad before he left." Turning, Ron held out the letter. "Dad, look at this. Go on, read it!"

Arthur took the proffered letter and sat down. With Molly peering over his shoulder, they both read Harry's letter. "Molly, what do you think about this?"

"He's lying, or trying to hide something."  She took the letter from Arthur and scanned it again. "I don't like it Arthur.  Harry would never not want to come here.  And his aunt … I ask you, when has that woman ever shown him an ounce of kindness?” She sat down next to him. "I think you'd better go and check on him. Something is wrong ... I just feel it."

"But I was supposed to go into work today." 

"Arthur, this is Harry we're talking about.  The Ministry can wait."

Arthur toyed with his lower lip while thinking things over. "You're right, of course.  I'll just Floo-call Perkins and tell him I can't make it in today. Then I'll check with Albus to make certain it's all right for me to go check on Harry."

After Arthur called Perkins, he then Floo-called the Headmaster and everyone in the kitchen listened on with anticipation as Dumbledore answered. 

"Albus, I apologize for disturbing you so early, but may I pop over and have a word with you?"

"Of course Arthur.  Is everything all right?"

"Well, yes and no. We are all fine here.  It's Harry, we're worried about him."

There was a long silent pause.  "What's wrong?"

"I'll show you when I get there.  May I come through?

"Of course Arthur, come right through." 

~~~~~

Albus Dumbledore stood expectantly beside his desk. When Arthur Floo'd in he immediately asked, "So what is all this about Harry? Last we spoke, you were to fetch him the night before his birthday." 

Reaching into the pocket of his robe, Arthur removed Harry's letter and held it out towards Dumbledore. "This is the reason Albus.  It's a letter from Harry.  Ron had written him a letter referring to the upcoming party and Harry coming to stay at the Burrow. This was his response."

Dumbledore read Harry's words declining the invitation. "Well, certainly this is odd.  He hasn't mentioned in any of his letters that he was ill.  Additionally, the reports from the Aurors guarding his neighborhood haven't noted that anything was amiss.  Has he made reference to illness in any of his previous missives to your family?"

"No, he hasn't.  All he ever says is that he's fine.  That's about it."

Dumbledore sighed.  "Curious."

"Yes it is. Albus, I...  Well we...  That is to say Molly, the children and I think something must be wrong.  Harry has never not wanted to come to the Burrow; so I was wondering if I could go check on him today, perhaps I could even bring him back with me to the Burrow?  It's only a few days earlier then we had originally planned." 

"I suppose it would be all right,” he mused then nodded decidedly. “Yes Arthur, of course. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey should accompany you."

"Oh, no. I honestly don't believe Harry is actually ill.  I think it best if I just go alone and talk to him, if he'll oblige me."

"Very well, but please update me with your findings."

"I will Albus, of course"

~~~~~

It was about mid-morning now, and the stifling summer heat was already making its presence known.  Arthur Apparated to the perimeter of the wards, covertly acknowledged the Auror stationed at this particular spot, then proceeded toward Privet Drive and eventually made his way to number four. When he finally arrived at the front door, he looked around for what should be the door bell.

Mortified over the fiasco that had transpired when he had come to fetch Harry for the Quidditch finals, Arthur vehemently addressed his rusty knowledge of Muggle studies to assure nothing of the sort ever occurred in the future. Recalling the diagram from his Muggle Studies book, Arthur spotted a round button beside the door. 

That must be the doorbell, he thought and with a giddy sense of anticipation, Arthur pushed on the round button in question. Low and behold, a chime could be heard from within the house. His eyes grew wide with wonder.  "It worked!"

Now for the next part. Thinking that this would be infinitely more challenging than the doorbell, Arthur waited for Harry or one of his relatives to open the door, but nothing happened. Mildly perplexed yet still determined, he decided to try again.  Sure enough, when he pushed the button, the chime sounded once more inside the house but still, no one came to the door.

There was however an odd sound emanating from the rear of the house, so he decided to walk along the side path which led toward the rear of the property. Reaching its end, Arthur came to an abrupt halt as he took in the unbelievable sight before him.

There was Harry.  He was pushing some sort of contraption along the grass, presently heading in the direction opposite from where Arthur stood.  If it hadn't been for what else greeted his eyes, Arthur would have been giddy with curiosity for the odd device. But sadly, Harry had taken off his shirt, no doubt because of the heat, and quite visible was the fact that Harry had lost a significant amount of weight.  Indeed, if Arthur had wanted, he could have easily counted every one of Harry's ribs.

Reaching the end of the grass, Harry turned the lawn mower around to make his next pass.  About halfway across the yard, he glanced up and froze. 

For a few moments, both Harry and Arthur just stood and stared at each other.  Then, ever so slowly, Arthur walked toward Harry.  As his approach brought him closer to the young man, he could now easily see every blatant, protruding rib, and what appeared to be an assortment of both fresh and fading bruises. 

"Mr. Weasley! What...What are you doing here?" Harry could barely get the words out for shock and embarrassment.

Standing directly in front of the teenager, Arthur took in the dark circles under Harry's eyes, and it was quite apparent that he had recently been crying.  Obviously, all was not well with Harry Potter. 

Arthur's chest tightened as a wave of guilt washed over him.  He should have listened to Ron and Ginny when they insisted that Harry come to them earlier that month.  Just as his children had foreseen, Harry was not coping well with the loss of Sirius.

The lack of response prompted Harry to repeat his inquiry. "Mr. Weasley?" 

"Harry, is there anyplace where you and I could talk?  Just talk for a bit?"

Talking to Mr. Weasley was definitely something Harry did not want to do. "Um ... I don't know if that's such a good idea Mr. Weasley.  I really need to finish my chores, and ..."

"Why don't you let me worry about that, all right? Arthur placed a gentle hand on the teenager’s bony shoulder. “Harry please, can’t we just talk?”

The arrival of Mr. Weasley was so unexpected; Harry was caught completely off guard. He had to think of some sort of excuse, fast.  "I really don't have time.  Perhaps if you came later and ..."

Arthur interrupted again. "Harry, I'm not going to leave, not until you and I have a talk." 

Harry's resolve was weakening. This was simply too much.  As long as no one showed him any sort of affection, affection that he wholeheartedly believed he did not deserve, as long as he was isolated in this way, he could handle his despair. This kindness being offered by Mr. Weasley upset Harry's delicate balance of reason and emotion.

Not able to look the older man in the eyes, Harry looked down at his keds and tried again. "Mr. Weasley, can't you just... Just go ... please?"

"No, I'm sorry.  I am not leaving until we talk." Thinking that perhaps an indirect approach might work better than this stand-off, Arthur offered a diversion. "Tell me.  Exactly what chores do you need to finish?  The lawn?  Yes, yes of course." 

Pulling out his wand, Arthur performed a simple charm to finish the cutting of the lawn. "There, that's done.  Now, what else is on your agenda for the day?"

"Um ... I'm supposed to wash the outside of all the windows."

Another wave of the wand with a spoken charm and all the windows were clean, outside and inside. "And?"

"Nothing.  That was it."

"Good.  Now, where can we go and talk?"

Exasperated by Mr. Weasley's persistence, Harry simply sighed then went to turn the lawnmower around.  "I need to put this away first." 

"Splendid! Where do you store this magnificent contraption when it is not in use?"

Harry was taken aback.  "What are you talking about? What..."  Comprehension dawning,  "Oh, you mean the lawn mower?"

"Is that what it is called?"  Fascinating!"

Harry shook his head and pushed the lawnmower back into the garden shed.  When he turned around, he was greeted by the sight of Arthur Weasley sitting on a half barrel next to the doorway.

Despite the smile and kind expression upon Mr. Weasley's face, he might as well have been Aragog guarding Harry's exit from the cave of Acromantulas. After a moment of quiet desperation, Harry surrendered and sagged down upon a nearby stack of bagged fertilizer.

"Now Harry, what is all this nonsense about having a cold and not coming to the Burrow?"

How in Merlin's name could Harry verbalize all the thoughts spinning around in his head: that he didn't want to place any of the Weasleys in more danger, that he was ashamed with himself and regretted all the havoc he had caused everyone already, that he was worthless and didn't deserve to be loved, that…

“Harry?”

Startled from his personal diatribe, Harry decided it would be impossible to convey all this misery he was carrying around; so instead, he settled for something short and direct. “Mr. Weasley, I just think it would be better if I stayed here.”

“Better for who? Certainly not us, we all miss you and want you to come stay with us.  So you must be speaking of yourself.  Why would it be better for you to stay here?”

Unfortunately, Harry’s scar chose that exact moment to jab him with a particularly burning sting.  Grimacing, he started to rub his scar. 

Mr. Weasley moved to his side instantly. “Harry, you’re in pain. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing Mr. Weasley; just my stupid scar.” Resting his forehead in the palm of his hand, Harry stared at the ground and decided to try and explain. 

“Look Mr. Weasley, I feel really bad about what happened to Ron and Ginny.  So many people were hurt because of me; I just feel like I should stay away, before anyone else gets hurt or d…”  The remainder of his sentence caught in his throat, and all that he could manage to do was bury his face in his hands.

Harry’s words and actions confirmed Arthur’s suspicions. Without preamble, Arthur wrapped Harry up in a strong embrace. 

Hobbled by his guilt, Harry found it difficult to accept this offering of love. He tried to pull away, but Mr. Weasley wouldn’t let go. “Please don’t. I…”

Holding on with determination, Arthur cut off Harry’s plea.  “Harry, I know you are upset, but cutting yourself off from everyone that loves you is wrong. We were wrong to leave you here alone after everything that happened. We love you son, and we are worried for you.  We all want you to come home.  Please, come with me to the Burrow.”

As Arthur spoke, Harry’s resolve to hold back his tears broke and he released the grief he had held within for so long.  Arthur continued to hold onto the young man as he cried, occasionally whispering words of support.  Eventually, when Harry had cried himself out, Arthur pulled back just far enough to look upon the tear stained face.

“Now you listen to me Harry James Potter; I refuse to leave you here. You and I are going to pack your things, and you are coming with me to the Burrow today.  That is final!”

It took a few minutes for Harry to dry his tears and pull himself together. After he calmed down, they headed toward the house to collect his things.

“Let’s see,” began Arthur, “first we’ll pack your belongings and then…”

Harry interrupted, “Mr. Weasley, I… Well I really don’t have anything to pack.  You see, my uncle…” Embarrassed, Harry looked down. “My uncle locked my trunk away when I got here. Everything I own is in it, except for Hedwig.  Her cage is in my room.”

Arthur may have been meager in funds, but he was bountiful with discernment. Realizing the magnitude and implications packed within that one humble sentence, Arthur asked with infinite gentleness, the whereabouts of the trunk.

This was all so mortifying, but Harry couldn’t see that he had any choice in the matter. “I’ll show you, but we need to hurry.”

"Why?"

"I'll tell you later. Okay?  Let's just get my stuff and go."

 Entering the house, Harry led Arthur to the locked cupboard under the stairs. "It's in there."

Arthur stared at the small door, then to Harry and then back to the cupboard door. "Ron mentioned something about your room being a cupboard under the stairs, I always assumed it to be a sort of storage room."

"No, this is it.  Can we please just hurry?"

Arthur pointed his wand at the cupboard door.  "Alohamora.” The door opened and the redhead leaned forward to look inside the tiny area.  Deciding it best not to say anything just then, he shrunk Harry's trunk and placed it in his pocket.

"All right Harry, let's go get Hedwig."

As the Weasley patriarch followed Harry up the stairs and then watched as the troubled young man called his owl to him from a nearby tree, questions began racking in his brain:  Harry being kept in that tiny hole in the wall? The stifling hot bedroom? The weight loss and bruises? No one helping the young man to deal with his grief? How could Albus have allowed this to go on?

"Okay Mr. Weasley.  She's on her way to the Burrow.  If you could just shrink her cage, we can go.  I don't have anything else."

That being done, the two wizards headed toward the stairway, but sounds from below caused Harry to stop in his tracks and cringe. "Oh, no."  He muttered under his breath.  

Arriving back from their trip to the grocers, the Dursleys entered through the front door but stopped when they saw Harry.

"Boy?  What are you doing inside?  You know you're not allowed...."  Just then, Vernon Dursley spotted Arthur standing behind his nephew. "What are you doing here?  I will not have freaks in my home.  One is bad enough!"

Harry's uncle marched up the stairs to continue his verbal attack, while Petunia stood with her mouth agape, by the doorway. Dudley headed toward the kitchen for cover.

"Uncle Vernon, please!  We were just leaving!  Mr. Weasley is taking me ..."

"I did not give you permission to speak to me, Boy!"

"Now see here Dursley," interjected Arthur. “Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?"

The dressing down at King's Cross still fresh in his mind, Dursley countered with a vengeance.  "I will not be told what to think, or how to speak in my own home!"

With all of the shouting taking place, and his purple-faced uncle getting closer and closer; Harry began to panic. As he did, his magic started to swirl and the windows began to crack, the sounds of which could be heard all throughout the house. 

Turning, Vernon Dursley watched as window after window cracked before his eyes. His already inflated form grew even larger, now with ire.

"What have you done? You ... freak!" Irate, he moved to shove his nephew, but inadvertently pushed with much more force than intended and Harry was sent flying headfirst down the flight of stairs.

Petunia Dursley's shrill scream pierced the air as she watched her nephew's head slam into the wall at the base of the stairs. 

His footsteps echoed as Snape made his way up the empty stairwell.

Only two days prior, he'd been surrounded by his cherished roses and the beautiful countryside of the Alta Marema, Now he was here, after what was an all too brief vacation, within the cold stone walls of the castle. And he contemplated, as he trudged up the stairs, how the echoes of his footsteps seemed to mirror his own swirling memories of his home and life in Tuscany.

He had barely settled in when Madame Pomfrey suggested that they meet in order to review the supply levels for the necessary potions in the infirmary. With the start of the new school term barely one month away, she was anxious to begin her preparations.

As he neared the hospital wing, he could sense that something was amiss. The castle was nearly empty, so any activity was unexpected. But when he entered the infirmary, he saw a scene of focused endeavors and distressed voices.

Dear Merlin, now what? He'd barely taken in the scene of Poppy fervently working on someone, when a voice called out to him from the Mediwitch's office.

"Severus, what fortuitous timing.”The Headmaster beckoned to him from the doorway to Poppy’s office.“Please, your services are greatly needed."

Snape walked over and saw an obviously distressed Arthur Weasley speaking to his wife through the Floo; his panicked voice filled the background.

He hadn’t seen the headmaster in nearly a month; approaching him now, Snape nodded his head and offered a raised eyebrow in greeting."What seems to be the problem?"

"Severus, a bit of an altercation took place today at the Dursley's."

"Potter's relatives?"

"Yes. During the excitement, Harry was injured and Arthur inadvertently, purely reactionary mind you..." Dumbledore shrugged uncharacteristically. "Nonetheless, Arthur hexed them."

The second eyebrow elevated to join the first, this time in shock. "Arthur Weasley? Hexed a family of Muggles?" If the situation hadn't been so delicate, Snape would have found it laughable.

"Severus, please. Arthur is distraught, not to mention the possible ramifications with the Ministry. I am asking for your help. Would you please go to the Dursley's and … well, take care of things as quickly as possible?"

Both eyebrows quickly returned to their former position and the blank expression, honed to perfection, schooled itself upon the potion master's face. "Of course Albus, whatever you require. To be certain I understand your request, you wish for me to enter the home of Mr. Potter's relatives, release them of the current spells cast upon them by Arthur and then, I would assume, Obliviate them."

The blue eyes held no twinkle this day. "Yes."

Snape kept his personal reaction to this request veiled behind his mask of indifference. "Very well, I will take care of matters."

As Snape moved to exit the office, Arthur stepped quickly to intercede."Severus, thank you so much for doing this. I don't know what came over me. Everything happened so quickly, I..."

Having heard enough, the seasoned operative interrupted Mr. Weasley's unsought explanation. "There is no need for you to vindicate yourself to me, Arthur. Now if you will, I believe haste is paramount at this point."

"You're right Severus, of course. But, please accept my gratitude."

Snape offered a slight bow of the head in acknowledgement, then turned and left the office.

No doubt this is some form of penance for past sins. Snape marched toward the Headmaster's office barely able to contain his annoyance.Not only was he still unsettled over having just left his home only to return to the dungeons of Hogwarts, he now had to race off and deal with an exceedingly unpleasant task involving Potter's relatives. It was bad enough that he had to tolerate the imp in his classroom, but now this! Having to enter the house of the pampered little prince, contend with his hero-worshiping family, all because of Arthur's overblown reaction to what was no doubt, some triviality.

~~~~~~~

Flooing from Dumbledore's office to Arabela Figg's, Snape arrived in Little Whinging just around sunset. He barely acknowledged the Squib as he headed toward her front door.

"Professor Snape, how is Harry?"

Surprised at the question, Snape turned toward the old squib. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to him to inquire about Potter's injuries. "Potter? I am quite certain Madame Pomfrey has matters well in hand."

"Oh, of course Professor," cowered the old Squib, intimidated by his mere presence and curt retort.

Wishing to complete his assigned burden as quickly as possible, Snape offered Mrs. Figg a brief nod, cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself and exited the house.

~~~~~

He crossed Privet Drive and as he neared the house, he noticed that most of the windows had cracks running throughout the glass. With his wand at the ready, Snape quietly slipped into the house via the back door.

What greeted him was the sight of a rather large young Muggle, lying on the kitchen floor. Weasley had obviously used a sticking charm to adhere the youth to the tiles. Completely engulfing the boy's face was an enormous Bat Bogey. Assessing that this Muggle was in no immediate danger, he left the young man in his odd predicament and continued his survey of the house.

He left the kitchen and entered a hallway. Lying on the floor at the opposite end was no doubt Petunia Dursley, apparently suffering from the same hexes as the young man in the kitchen.

As Snape moved down the hallway, the sight of a small cupboard door caught his eye. He paused and looked at it.

He had seen this door before, but where? He stood unmoving and simply stared at it, then after a few moments he stepped foreword, grasped the small handle and yanked it open.

Alien memories, previously banished to the outskirts of his mind, surfaced now with a vengeance: overwhelming feelings of isolation and fear, want and need.

"Arrrgh"Snape growled as these feelings and memories, Potter's memories, threatened to overwhelm him.

Heslammed the door shut and forced the invasive emotions from him. He now recalled where it was he’d seen that small dark space; it was during Potter’s Occlumency lessons with him only weeks ago.

Snape had assumed them to be no more than remnants from a bad dream, but apparently these were not merely dream images, but were indeed memories of actual occurrences. This cupboard under the stairs was real, and Severus Snape now realized with unwanted clarity, the tremendous emotional trauma it held for Harry Potter.

He backed away and turned to face Petunia Dursley and then, with a wave of his wand, he released the Disillusionment Charm.

Petunia, who had seen the cupboard door open and close, apparently of its own accord, now panicked at the sudden appearance of Snape. Even though she recognized him as a childhood friend of Lily's, the dark look upon his face threatened to scare the very life from her.

As Snape slowly walked toward her, he could clearly see her panicked eyes staring at him from around the perimeter of the bat sized bogey. Her body, as was the case of her son, was also stuck to the floor, and the bogey covering the majority of her face prevented communication.

He stood in silence and stared down at this woman, Lily's sister, and wondered what in Merlin's name had been going on in this house.

What had he just experienced over there by the small cupboard? The images and emotions he saw and felt made absolutely no sense to him. Potter was a pampered brat, not an abused waif.

Snape shook his head, trying to clear away the questioning voice. This wasn't why he'd come to this despicable house. Besides, why should he even concern himself? He cared nothing for Potter. Yet, he was intrigued. His curiosity grew and prodded him on until he reached the point where he simply had to know.

Snape hesitated, but then pointed his wand squarely at the woman. “Legilimens”

He felt her hatred, disgust and the jealousy, witnessed the years of favoritism and intentional neglect. On and on the impressions and feelings flew at him, memories of what were, in her opinion, years of injustice. Snape realized that to this woman and her family, Harry was unwanted; he was nothing more than an imposition and an enormous source of annoyance.

"Finite."

Snape stood stock still. Beyond shocked, he was flabbergasted at the realization that Lily's sister loathed her nephew. Of course Potter was a nuisance, but to treat a small child in such a manner? It was incomprehensible.He didn’t have time just then to process all he had learned, nor was this the place to contemplate such a disturbing revelation, so he steeled himself to return to his task and continue the survey of the house.

But when he turned to face the staircase, Snape gasped. There, splattered upon the wall at the base of the stairs was what could only be Potter's blood. "Dear Merlin," he muttered. No wonder the squib inquired as to Potter's welfare.

Moving past the blood splattered wall, Severus ascended the staircase. There on the top landing, lay the massive form of Potter's uncle, also stuck to the floor with an equally massive Bogey covering his face.

Now with all the family members accounted for, Snape proceeded to finish surveying the remainder of the upstairs.His search was uneventful until he reached the last door. Here again was yet another door that beckoned its story to be told.

Opening the lock ridden, animal flap enhanced door, Severus stepped into a stifling hot, dreary little bedroom. He took in the small cot-like bed, the broken furniture and remnants of metal bars at the window. The only statement of individuality was the small Gryffindor banner and a hand drawn pencil rendition — of a Snowy Owl.

Snape allowed himself only a few moments of stunned realization, a brief acknowledgement of regret and shame.

Making short work of rectifying the evidence of Arthur Weasley's anger, Severus removed the hexes, then Stunned and Obliviated Potter's relatives. He finished his task by levitating the uncle to an upstairs bed, the aunt to the living-room couch and the youth to a kitchen chair, so that when they awoke, each would think they had merely dozed off.

Finally, Snape moved to the base of the staircase.

"Evanesco" With his charm, Potter's blood disappeared from the wall. And then, "Reparo" All the cracked windows were magically repaired. His task complete, Severus sighed and then departed number four Privet Drive.

~~~~~

As midnight approached, Dumbledore paced anxiously in his office waiting for Snape's return. Finally, the flames flared green and the younger wizard stepped from the Floo.

The two men stood and stared at each other, not knowing what to say or where to begin. It had been a long and trying day. Both were exhausted, their minds full of thoughts that needed to be processed and questions that needed answers.

It was Snape who broke the silence."The situation with the Dursleys has been rectified. They will remember nothing of what occurred this day with regards to Potter ... or Arthur."

Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you Severus. Please, sit down and relax. You look as if you could use a drink. I know I do."

Dumbledore walked over to a small side table and reached for the crystal decanter that housed a very old, very strong yet infinitely smooth Cognac. He poured the precious liquid into two large snifters then went to join Snape who was now seated in front of the large fireplace.

They sat for a long while in silence, sipping their drinks, allowing the Cognac to ease their frazzled nerves and numb their cold self-disgust.

Staring at the snifter held in his hand, Severus watched as the prisms of light from the fire danced between the cut edges of the crystal. Finally, he felt composed enough to voice one of the many questions weighing upon his mind.

"Albus, to what degree are you aware of Potter's living conditions?"

The old wizard stared into his own glass and let out a deep sigh. "Apparently, not enough. That fact was made blatantly clear to me today."

Snape lifted his gaze from the snifter to that of his old mentor, pinning him with a pertinacious stare.How could someone he had always admired, someone he had sacrificed a vast portion of his life in order to serve, someone he respected more than any other person known to him — how in the world could Albus Dumbledore have been so negligent with regards to Potter?Snape wanted answers, and he would wait all night, if needs be, for Dumbledore to provide them.

The old wizard continued to stare at his drink as he finally voiced his failure. "I have no excuses Severus.The fault is mine and mine alone.I thought that the people I had placed near the Dursley's home could monitor the child sufficiently. Obviously, I was mistaken."

"You discovered this fact ... only today?"

Dumbledore nodded his head.Then he told Snape about Vernon's assault upon Harry, the revelations of hatred, the prejudice and abuse, then of Arthur's instinctive response to the attack and the injustice that had been reaped upon Harry his entire young life. "How could I have erred so greatly?"

"How were you to know Albus? Abuse can be well hidden."

The old wizard continued, as if not hearing Snape's comment. "From their perspective, my operatives had no idea what was transpiring within the walls of that house. Harry never alluded to any injustice or abuse … never," his voice trailed off in a whisper.

Albus finally lifted his gaze to meet that of Snape's."I have failed that young man. I realize that now... and I fully admit to that fact. Also, based upon Arthur's accounting of a discussion he had with Harry before the fray, and his physical state, Harry is terribly depressed over the death of Sirius. Again, he never alluded to any distress in his letters to me. I believed that he was coping adequately, and so my transgression continues."

"What do you mean — his physical state?"

Shaking his head ever so slightly while he spoke, the Headmaster relayed to Snape the fact that Harry had lost a great deal of weight in just one month, that his blood pressure was dangerously high due to stress, that there was evidence of physical abuse and, according to Madame Pomfrey, Harry was exhibiting the classic signs of severe depression.

After listening to the old wizard’s account of Harry's condition, Snape added all he had seen earlier that evening, to what Dumbledore had just conveyed to him. A feeling of guilt and shame for his obvious misconceptions about Harry took hold of him, andthe longer he thought on the matter, the more damning each detail of his personal transgression came to light.

"Severus?" The gentle calling of his name, snapped Snape from his musings.

"You aren't the only one with transgressions to face tonight, Albus." He responded, his disappointment evident in the tone of his voice. "I realized today just how mistaken..." he paused momentarily, looking towards the warm flames of the fire.” I realized how wrong I have been about ... Harry."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and sighed. "I am so relieved that you are finally able to see the truth about him.He isn't James. In fact, as I have had the opportunity to get to know Harry, I often think that you and he are quite alike, different in some regards, but essentially alike."

Severus smirked at the comparison.

"You called him Harry." "I what?"

"You called him Harry.I've never heard you use his first name Severus, not until tonight."

Severus set down his now empty crystal goblet. "I believe that until now, I have never truly considered Harry as an individual. I’ve always viewed him as..." He thought for a moment, "I suppose I viewed him as a sort of allegorical figurehead.To me personally, he always represented his father. He was a target where I could channel the resentment I obviously still harbor, and perhaps I...."

Dumbledore waited a moment, then urged Snape to continue, "What?" he said softly.

Severus looked down at his hands, as he fiddled with the signature ring he still wore. "Perhaps I was a bit ... envious, jaundiced, because of his ease with people, his distinction and import."

Knowing how difficult it was for Severus to have admitted these things to himself, let alone give them voice, Dumbledore leaned foreword and reached a hand toward his long time protégé. "Severus, we all have our strengths and our weaknesses.Please, do not judge yourself harshly.You have the opportunity now to rectify the past."

Severus felt totally drained. "If I do Albus, then so do you."

The two wizards shared a long and knowing look. With regards to Harry, they both felt a weighty guilt and a need to make amends.

Severus rose wearily from the chair. Crossing the room, he paused before opening the door. “You should know that today, I saw evidence of unintentional magic at the Dursley’s house."

"Yes, Arthur relayed to me what happened. I assume you are referring to the windows?"

"Yes. It was Harry, no doubt?"

Albus nodded his head. "Arthur stated that as Harry's uncle ascended the staircase, Harry became highly distressed and that for a moment or two, some sort of electrical charge could be felt. Then suddenly all of the windows started to crack."

Leaning against the door, Severus compared these words to his own memory of when he'd witnessed Harry's extraordinary powers at work. "You should know that I also witnessed a similar occurrence."

Dumbledore perked with curiosity. "You did? When?"

"It happened the last day of term, during the Leaving Feast." Severus sighed as he recounted the unfortunate event. "It was a private moment for Harry. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was quite distressed over the death of Black and when he momentarily placed his hand against the wall, the castle shook. He immediately withdrew his hand and the shaking stopped."

Albus gasped. "I remember that. It lasted only a brief moment, but all of us in the Great Hall felt it."

Severus waited in silence as Dumbledore pondered the magnitude of his news.

"It would seem that Harry and I are overdue for a little talk."

"So it would seem Albus, so it would seem."

~~~~~

Severus slowly made his way down from the Headmaster's tower. Arriving at the second level, he followed the turn in the stairs and went to continue his descent, but paused.

It was only a few steps to his right and to stop by would be a small gesture, a simple show of support; why was he hesitating?

"This is preposterous." Annoyed at himself, Severus turned and walked determinately toward the infirmary doors. Firmly grasping the handle, he turned the knob and entered the ward —then stopped.

It was if time had suddenly softened and slowed its pace. The opalescent moonlight drifting in through the numerous windows, hung suspended within the darkened shroud of the ward. Severus slowly walked foreword, each step bringing him closer to the solitary figure lying still as a corpse upon the bed. The only movement from Harry's body was the steady, shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Plied with potions, Harry had been drugged into a dreamless sleep. But even if he had been awake, he would have barely heard the soft whisper issued by the contrite man before him.

"I am sorry Harry."

Drained and exhausted, feeling as though he were himself about to collapse, Severus turned slowly to leave. But the motion caused his hand to brush atop that of Harry's and to his surprise, the fingers of the smaller hand closed ever so slightly upon his own.

Startled, Severus looked upon this tenuous connection. Why he didn't immediately withdraw his hand he couldn’t say. Physical contact was something Severus Snape neither gave nor received easily.

He looked from their hands back towards Harry's face; Severus could see that the young man was sound asleep, so how could this have taken place?

His normal response would have been to withdraw, but for some reason he didn't. Instead, Severus slowly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat there and looked upon Harry for what seemed to be the first time.‘The Boy Who Lived’ was a figurehead to the Wizarding World, but the beaten young man before him now was just that — a beaten young man.

This was Harry; not a reincarnation of his father but a person in his own right: a too thin individual with sunken cheeks, a head wrapped in gauze and bruises about his face.

Severus hadn't thought he could feel any worse, but he did. It would take a long time for him to come to terms with the role he had played in all the injustice. Beyond that, he would someday need to apologize to a Harry Potter that was conscious and could very easily tell Severus to go straight to hell.

Would Harry ever be able to forgive him?Perhaps not. But even so, Severus was determined to stand by his declaration to make amends to this young wizard, and he would do so starting now.

He would sit patiently here by Harry's side.Even though he was unconscious, if Harry needed to hold onto someone, Severus decided that he would stay and allow the contact.

This day seemed to have lasted an eternity, but it was only a prelude of what lay ahead ... for Harry and Severus.

A rustling sound woke Harry and was thrilled when he opened his eyes to saw his Godfather sitting there next to him.

“Sirius, what are you doing here? I thought you were dead. Aren't you dead?”

Another noise startled Harry from his dream, and this time he really did open his eyes.Indeed there was someone sitting next to him, but it was Ron, not Sirius.

"Do you know?" asked Ron.

"What?" Harry responded groggily.

"It starts with the letter P."

Harry squeezed his eyelids tightly, trying to focus. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh."Harry felt completely disorientated."Um, I don't know. Something like... Peasegood? Maybe?"

"That's it!Brilliant!I'm almost done now. Just two more down and three more across."

It was Saturday morning and Ron's turn to sit with Harry. Since Harry spent half his time sleeping, Ron had decided to bring along the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly and an extra long Sugar Quill to help pass away the hours. He was currently working on the crossword puzzle.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Sirius? He was here just a minute ago."

Ron lowered the magazine to look at his friend. This wasn't the first time Harry had dreamt of Sirius during the past week. Everyone who’d sat with Harry had experienced some version of what just occurred.

"Come on mate, you were just having one of those dreams again. Remember? You remember what happened back in June, right?"

Harry closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his aching head. "Oh, yeah ... sorry."

"Uh, don’t worry about it. It's just that stupid draught you have to take;it makes you all loopy."

Harry didn't bother to respond. He just lay there gently rubbing the spot on his head where the laceration had been. Even though Madame Pomfrey had healed the wound, the area still felt numb yet tingly, all at the same time. She said it was because of some damage to the nerves in the area and that it would go away eventually; but still, it was an odd feeling.

"Hey mate, you hungry? You want some soup or something?"

Harry shook his head, no. Even though it had been a slight movement, he instantly regretted the attempt as the muscles and tendons in his neck were still quite tender.

Dobby suddenly appeared on Harry's bed, carrying a tray of food.

The little elf turned to look at Ron with an odd expression. "Dobby is knowing this, Harry's Wheezy. For Dobby is many times checking on his Harry Potter."

"You do?" managed Harry.

Dobby nodded his head and walked up the length of the bed to place the tray on Harry's lap. "Dobby is very fast and very quiet and Dobby is making it so that he is not seen, if that is what Dobby wishes."

Ron had already grabbed one of the Roast Beef Sandwiches and replied with his mouth full of food. "I diddin know dat. Can all duh elves do dat?"

He was just staring at the tray on his lap, picking away at the crust on one of the sandwiches. "I'm just not very hungry."

Dobby sat down and touched Harry on the shoulder. "Please Harry Potter, please eat something for Dobby. Dobby is making Harry Potter some of his I'osi's special broth. Will Harry Potter please try some?"

Harry looked confusedly at Dobby. "Who is I'osi?"

The little elf smiled at his favorite wizard and shook his head. "Harry Potter, I'osi is not being a name; it is being a thing. I'osi is meaning grandmother,and Dobby's grandmother is being named Widgen."

"Oh."

"Please Harry Potter, try some of I'osi's broth."

"Okay." He reached for the cup of broth. Harry was having a hard time managing such maneuvers these days. The torn retina was affecting the vision of his left eye, making it distorted and blurred which in turn impaired his depth perception.

He took a couple of small sips and then set the cup back down on the tray. Ron had already finished his own sandwich and started in on one half of Harry's.

"Harry Potter is not liking I'osi's broth?"

"No, it's good.Thanks for making it."

~~~~~~SH~~~~~

When Harry had sufficiently recovered, Madame Pomfrey released him to the care of Arthur and Molly and he spent his first day at the Burrow primarily in bed, as just getting there had worn him out completely.

The still mending skull fracture, concussion and torn retina caused Harry to experience bouts of dizziness, which left everyone far too concerned for his safety to let him attempt the stairs. So Molly and Ginny had cleared out the sewing room on the first floor, and set it up as a bedroom for Harry to use during his convalescence.

It was now well into the first week of August. The heat of summer lay heavy upon Ottery St. Catchpole. The garden at the Burrow had soaked up the warmth and was now bursting with blossoms of Roses, Clematis and Peonies, their flowers lacing the still air with heady scents.

The expanse of grass surrounding the home and stretching out to the orchard welcomed anyone who wished to lie upon its coolness, but because Harry had to be mindful of the delicate situation with his torn retina; he could not leave the embrace of the cottage. It was necessary for him to take a Calming Draught in order to keep his blood pressure at a normal level, so that his retina could heal properly. A side affect from the draught was that it caused his pupils to remain partially dilated, so he needed to stay out of the bright sunlight in order to protect his eyes. The best he could manage was to sit on the porch swing, either in the early morning or after the sun had lowered in the sky, and stare at the blur of his surroundings.

That was about all he did, hour after hour, day after day. When not sitting on the swing, he would retire to his bedroom to lie on the bed and stare at the wall. He didn't talk or interact much with anyone. Even though he was now staying in a home with people that loved and cared about him, he felt completely alone.

The void where he had been before the accident and where he was now, was much easier to deal with somehow. So he gave in and allowed it to carry him along, drifting within a bubble of emptiness. He had been alone for so long, trying to deal with his grief and loss, that this solitude had become his familiar companion. It didn't matter that the Weasleys loved him, his new companion kept Harry secluded and well beyond their reach.

~~~~~~SH~~~~~

Molly pushed open the back screen door and peeked out to check on Harry.

He was in his usual spot on the porch swing, just sitting and staring. She stepped outside and went over to sit beside him on the swing, wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gave him a little hug.

"I was just about to go make a nice batch of scones;would you like to come in and keep me company?"

Harry just shook his head.

Molly glanced sideways at the young man. "How's your head feeling this morning dear, any better, or still achy?"

"It’s better, thanks."

Molly gave up on further conversation and decided to just sit with Harry. She watched Ron and Ginny as they worked in the vegetable garden, weeding and cultivating the plants. After they completed their morning chores, her two youngest were free to spend the remainder of the day as they wished.

As Molly and Harry sat silently rocking back and forth on the swing, she caught sight of an owl far off in the distance.

"Here comes the morning post."

Harry looked up and watched the spec in the distance grow larger as the owl came closer and closer to the house, then dropped the post and parcels in Molly's lap.

Molly thumbed through the letters. "This one is for you."

She handed a large envelope to him;it was from Hermione. There were many stamps and a return address that included the name USS Bella Rosa, then c/o Mr. and Mrs. Granger'sLondon address.

"Can you manage to read it on your own, dear?

"Yeah Mrs. Weasley, I'll just close my bad eye. It'll be okay."

"All right then, I'll just go in and bake those scones. Call if you need anything." Molly gave him a little squeeze then rose from the swing, but before she had made it through the screen door, Harry spoke to her.

He kept his head down, looking at the letter in his lap. "Mrs. Weasley?"

She stopped and looked back. "Yes, Harry?"

She walked back to the swing, leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the top of his head. "You're very welcome, dear." She patted him gently on the shoulder before heading back to the kitchen. "I'll bring you a scone as soon as they're ready."

~~~~~SH ~~~~~

Harry slowly tore back the flap to the large brown envelope and pulled out what appeared to be a present and a letter.

Dear Harry,

Ron wrote and told me that you were finally able to leave the infirmary. I'm so glad the Headmaster allowed you to go to the Burrow. I'll bet Mrs. Weasley is taking good care of you. I've been so worried about you since I heard of the accident. I tried to get Mom and Dad to cut our trip short, but they said no. I wish you could be here Harry. The cruise boat is like nothing you've ever seen. It’s huge! There's even a library. At the beginning of our trip, we went through the Panama Canal. You wouldn't have believed it Harry, how it all works. It’s absolutely amazing. We've made it down the west side of Latin America and through the Straights of Magellan. It's fascinating visiting all the little towns, seeing the different people and their cultures. I'll tell you all about it when we're back at school. We'll only just get back in time to go to Diagon Alley and get my supplies. It's time for dinner, so I need to finish this letter. Please take care of yourself. I hope you enjoy the present.

All my love,

Harry bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears, set aside the letter and undid the wrappings to the present.

It was a black baseball cap. Across the front of the cap, embroidered in an iridescent shade of green were the words PANAMA CANAL. Also enclosed was a soft cover booklet describing the construction and operation of the canal.

Ginny picked up the booklet and began to read it as Ron took the cap from Harry. "Wow, this is so cool!" he marveled.

"It's a baseball cap, Ron." Harry stated, matter-of-factly.

"What's that ... baseball?"

Harry just shook his head. They really had been brought up in such different worlds. "It's a Muggle sport they play over in the states; it’s like Cricket."

"Yeah, I've heard of Cricket before. Why don't they make caps like this for Quidditch? That would be so cool."

The three hung out in silence for a bit, Ginny reading, Ron busily adjusting the leather strap at the back of the cap, while Harry sat and stared at the porch railing. After Ron got the cap sized just right, he hopped up on the railing to stare out at the orchard and slipped in a few sideways glances at his silent friend.

Ron debated for the umpteenth time, whether or not to bring up a subject the entire family had been skirting around ever since Harry's arrival.His intentions always good, if not wise, Ron decided to go for it.

"You know Harry, we never did get to celebrate your birthday. How about if we do it in the next few days? We already got all the decorations and stuff. Come on, it will be fun!"

Ginny immediately stopped her reading, fearing the worst, she held her breath.

When Harry didn't respond and the silence grew to awkward proportions,Ron tried again. "Did you hear me? What do you think about having your..."

Harry cut Ron off mid-sentence. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"What do you mean? Come on, you've got to have your birthday party, even if it is a little late."

Harry interjected before she could respond. "Ginny... don't bother."

Then he turned to Ron. "Look, I don't want a birthday party …okay? Can you understand that? I don't feel like celebrating my birthday. So just drop it, all right? Drop it!" Harry stood up and marched into the house, slamming the screen door behind him for good measure.

Ginny glared at her brother. "Now see what you've gone and done? I hope you're proud of yourself!"

Dumfounded by Harry's outburst, Ron stared in shock as his mothercame out to ask what had happened to upset Harry so much.

"Mom, I just asked him about having his birthday party. Who wouldn't want a birthday party?"

Molly sighed. "Oh Ronny, Harry is going through quite a bit right now. You've seen how withdrawn and sad he is."

"I know Mom, but maybe a party would cheer him up."

Molly crossed the porch. Lifting the cap from her son's head, she lightly ran her fingers across the brightly colored letters. "I'm afraid it’s going to take a lot more than a party to cheer up Harry. We all need to be patient and supportive. He needs time Ron, time to get over all that has happened."

Even as she said these words, she knew it wasn't true. It was becoming more and more apparent to this experienced mother that Harry needed help, a kind of help that neither she,Arthur, nor her children could give.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Albus, you simply cannot let that poor boy go on like this, something has to be done; he needs help."

Dumbledore stood facing the windows staring out at the pitch as his meeting with Poppy, Molly and Arthur, dragged on into the late hours of afternoon.

They had discussed all of Harry's past and current troubles, reminding Albus yet again, how badly he had failed this young man.

He tuned out the voices behind him and envisioned the memory a very young and happy Harry, flying at break-neck speeds across the pitch.Then he thought of all the struggles Harry had faced since reentering the Wizarding world: the Chamber of Secrets, the Dementors, being abducted during the Third Task, the death of Cedric and then Sirius. All these things were culminating andtaking their toll on the young wizard.

Albus turned to face those present. Refocussing his attention upon the discussion at hand; he heard Molly asking Poppy if the Mediwitch had some potion that could help Harry.

"Molly, this is beyond my field of expertise. I can heal his physical injuries, but not the depression."

"The Calming Draught you prescribed for him,” added Arthur, “it seems to be helping with the nightmares."

"Harry's retina is almost completely healed now;soon I will take him off the draught. It would be logical to assume that shortly thereafter, the nightmares will resume. The draught only affects the symptoms; it can not cure the cause."

Sighing, the Headmaster considered all that that had been discussed that afternoon.

Everyone's interactions with Harry during his stay in the infirmary and at the Burrow, combined with Arthur's rendition of what he had witnessed prior to the accident, all left little doubt that Harry was indeed not well.

The ambivalence and lack of appetite were all classic signs of depression. The nightmares, disturbing dreams and high blood pressure were manifestations of grief and stress; but Dumbledore was at a loss as how best to proceed. "What do you suggest Poppy?"

"Counseling Albus; he needs counseling. You or I could contact St. Mungos. Perhaps a counselor could be sent to the Burrow to start working with Harry."

Dumbledore turned to face the Weasleys; Arthur responded immediately. "Of course Albus, whatever he needs. We want Harry to be well and happy."

At that moment, Fawkes offered a soft and beautiful trill, as if voicing his agreement to what Arthur had just said.

Dumbledore and his Familiarsilently regarded each other for a time, seemingly engaged in a private communication. Eventually, Albus layed a gentle hand upon the crimson bird as he stated his decision. "Very well, I will contact St. Mungos immediately, and make arrangements for the very best counselor they can recommend."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Molly and Arthur had been on pins and needles all afternoon. Trying to keep their nerves in check, each had engaged themselves in much needed distraction.

Arthur had chosen to play a game of Wizard's Chess with Ron, while Molly had taken to the kitchen and enlisted Ginny's help to make a treacle tart for Harry. When the flames in the Floo flared green, each parent just about jumped out of their skin.

"Hello … Molly? Arthur?"

Arthur stood and went over to the Floo. "Hello Albus."

"May I come through? Is this a convenient time?"

"Oh yes, we've been waiting for you."

At those words, Ron and Ginny both started eyeing their parents. "We have? What are we waiting for?"

"Shhh, not now Ron. We'll tell you later,” directed Molly.

"Tell us what?" asked Ginny.

She also received a "Shhh."

The flames flared green and Albus Dumbledore stepped gracefully from the Floo. "How are all of you this fine summer's eve?"

"We're fine, Albus. Would you like a nice cup of tea?"

"No thank you, Molly. I believe I would prefer to address the matter at hand.” He looked around the kitchen, “So, where is Harry?"

"He's just out back." Arthur pointed to the screen door.

Dumbledore offered a slight bow. "Well then, if you will excuse me?"

With that, the headmaster crossed the kitchen and stepped out onto the back porch, mindful not to let the screen door slam as it closed.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

It was a magnificent summer's eve. The air was still and silent, filled with heady scents from the abundant flowers that graced the garden. Dumbledore could see Harry a short distance away.

He was sitting on the grass at the edge of a knoll, leaning against one of the smooth round boulders, staring off into the distance.

Matching the young wizard’s train of sight, Albus looked to his right and was greeted by a magnificent sunset. He allowed himself a few cherished moments to bathe in the tranquility of the glowing orange sun as it sank heavily into the far horizon.

But he had not come to the Burrow to enjoy the sunset. Bracing himself, Albus stepped off the porch and crossed the lawn. "Hello, Harry."

"Uh ... sure." When it became apparent that the old wizard intended to sit upon the grass, Harry made to jump up in order to assist.

Again, Dumbledore raised his hand. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I am still quite capable," he said in a lighthearted voice as he sat down and adjusted his purple and gold silk robes.

Albus took a deep breath and looked about the garden. "It seems you have the best seat in the house."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, yeah. I ... I like it out here. It's quiet" The last bit of his sentence was no more than a whisper.

As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore spoke. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh fine, I guess. I'm alright."

"I am told you have been rather quiet as of late."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Not much to say."

The old wizard paused before responding, intent on guiding the course of the conversation. “I see. And what of your injuries? How are they fairing?"

Dumbledore picked at a few blades of grass, then responded in a soft and hesitant voice. "I think perhaps not."

"Excuse me?"

"Harry, if I may be so bold, I believe there is one injury that Madame Pomfrey…" He paused."That everyone..." He paused again."That I may have overlooked."

Harry simply stared at the old wizard, not knowing what in the world he was talking about.

Dumbledore slowly raised a hand and laid it gently upon the center of Harry's chest. “The injury I speak of … is here. It is the injury to your heart, the injury to your soul."

Harry felt as though Dumbledore's words struck him at his very core. All of a sudden, it seemed rather difficult to take a breath. He wanted to tell the old coot that he was wrong, that he, Harry, was indeed fine. But he couldn't.

The old wizard looked at Harry intently and his gaze seemed to bore straight into that empty void where Harry had been residing for such a long time now. Tears welled in his eyes and his vision began to swim behind a sea of sadness. He lowered his head, trying valiantly to hide his weakness.

"Harry, listen to me. You have faced so many challenges in your short sixteen years, far more than anyone should face in an entire lifetime.You've faced these challenges with tremendous courage, butfor as strong as you are; I believe the loss of Sirius was yourbreaking point.You have no cause to be ashamed. On the contrary,the shame and failure lies with me. I thought I had provided adequately for you and certain that you'd be well cared for. I obviously failed in that task and my failure has compounded over these past two months. My confidence in your resiliency has led to my own complacency with regards to your well being, and for that Harry, I apologize. To see you now, so lost and consumed with grief, what can I do but to try and rectify my past mistakes?"

Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder."You deserved to have a wonderful childhood, to be loved and cherished. But that did not happen. You were tormented, just as you have been these past years. And what have I done to help you?Nothing more than cavalier decisions, confident that your tenacity would see you through all of these impossible situations and loses."

One moment, his head was buried in his hands as he broke down, sobbing. The next moment, slight yet strong arms wrapped around him, andall he could see, through his tears, was purple silk and gold crescent moons.

Watching as Harry succumbed to his grief, Albus had leaned forward and drew the weeping young man to him. He wrapped his arms around Harry and held onto him in a tight embrace. All his failures had been given voice, his regrets avowed. What mattered at this moment and for the foreseeable future was not Albus's failure, but Harry's healing. The old wizard sat quietly holding Harry,his cheek resting atop the wild mop of hair.

"My dear boy,all the losses you have endured have taken their toll upon you. You have been so brave and so courageous, trying to face these challenges alone. But they are too much. You need someone to help you sort through your sadness and your grief. That is why..." He tightened his embrace,"I want you to agree to receive counseling."

"Yes, counseling."

"A counselor is a person trained to help individuals such as you. People who have been emotionally injured."

Harry didn’t like the sound of this. "But ... what is it? How do they do that ... exactly?"

"But who would be talking?"

"You would, Harry. You and your counselor would simply talk about the issues that you find upsetting."

This supposedly simple process didn't sound simple at all. Harry tended to hold things inside. Now he was supposed to talk about them — with a stranger? “I don't know about this Sir;I really don't like to talk about my ... well, my stuff."

Harry did so.

"Do you like the way you have been feeling this summer?"

Harry slowly shook his head, no.

"I realize, that after my past failures toward you, I have absolutely no right to pose this request. But I am going to do it, because I do care for youand I want you to be happy."

He laid one of his hands upon Harry's. "I'm asking for you to please trust me in this matter, and agree to engage in counseling."

Dumbledore closed his fingers, squeezed Harry's hand and stared intently into searching green eyes.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well done my boy, well done."

Harry caught sight of the counselor when she appeared just outside the protective wards surrounding the Burrow. Wanting to get a look at her, he had been watching from a hidden spot high up in a tree, but from this distance he couldn't make out any details.

When she walked through the front gate, he sighed then made his own way toward the house.

In the two days since Dumbledore's visit Harry had remained aloof, withdrawing even further inside himself. With his retina now completely healed, he had begun biding his time out in the orchard. From beneath the camouflage of tree branches, he could watch Ron and Ginny play one on one Quidditch or just sit and worry about the upcoming discussions of his emotions with a complete stranger.

Mrs. Weasley walked out onto the porch just as he reached the back steps. "Oh, there you are," she said with relief. “I was just coming to look for you; the counselor is here."

He walked up the steps then stopped and stared silently at her, his anxiety was clearly evident in his expression.

"Harry dear, I know this is terribly difficult, but you must do this. You cannot go on the way you've been." She reached out and took hold his hand and without saying a word, he followed Mrs. Weasley into the house.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry had imagined this counselor would be old and dreary, somber and austere. But when he saw her, his breath caught — for she wasn't anything like he'd imagined.

Her eyes were blue, bluer than even Dumbledore's. Her hair was white, but cut short and styled in a modern fashion. Her creamy skin seemed almost translucent, but it was her expression which captured Harry most forshe looked at him as if she already knew him and seemed to radiate a sense of calm. Her serene expression reached out to him, abating his anxiety.

"Hello Harry. My name is Helena, Helena Swanson." She stood and walked over to him.

He managed a feeble “Hello," and shook her hand. He didn't know why, but this person whom he’d only just met made him feel at ease and at peace.

Helena suggested that they take a walk in the garden. As they strolled along, she chatted about this and that, but it was the tone of her voice and her easy manner that eased Harry's nerves.

When theyreached the cool shade of a large Mulberry tree, Helena conjured two comfortable chairs where they could sit. Then after a few moments and with a calm voice, Helena initiated what would become a journey of healing and self-discovery.

“I am told Harry, that you have been rather sad this summer."

Here we go. Helowered his head and gave a tiny nod.

"Tell me, what do you feel when you are sad?"

Confused by her question, he looked back up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when we are sad our sadness can also make us feel other things."

"Alone." He answered flatly.

"You feel alone?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I always feel alone. Or maybe..."

She waited a moment. "Isolated?"

"Yeah ... isolated." He thought about this word — isolated.It hadn't occurred to him before, but that described perfectly the way he’d felt all summer long.

"Can you share with me what you're thinking right now?"

He bit his lip and for some reason, the back of his hand was suddenly quite itchy.

"Harry?"she pressed.

"I don't know what to say. I'm just thinking about feeling isolated."

"Try to describe how this isolation feels to you."

He knew this was going to be hard, but not this hard. "Um ... I guess it feels kind of like there's a wall around me."

Helena pondered his words. "Is the wall made up of anything in particular?"

Harry found all her questions so confusing. "What do you mean, 'made up of'? You mean like stones and stuff?"

"Mmm … no. Even though your wall is quite real, it isn't something you can physically touch. Let me rephrase my question." She tried again. "Can you decipher what it is that makes up this wall, or perhaps what madethe wall?"

Harry thought and thought about his wall, about what had made it and how it had been made. As he began to realize the answer, his expression became more and more despondent.

He choked down a swallow. "Sadness.The wall is my sadness."

~~~~~

At the same time this young wizard sat speaking with his counselor; a much older wizard sat reclining in a chair a continent apart and a lifetime away. Unlike the green eyes haunted with sadness, his werered and slitted, like those of a snake.

He watched the beautiful young Geisha as she made her way back to the Shinden, taking little footsteps along the lantern lit path. She wore a silk Kimono of sugary pinks with a pattern of rose colored cherry blossoms woven into the fabric. Aside from her beautiful features and delicate manner, she was also very talented and had just serviced the Dark Lord to his utmost satisfaction.

As she made a turn, disappearing behind an old and sculptured Japanese Black Pine, Voldemort lowered his gaze to the water before him.

One of the Shinden's large ponds was situated just in front of the palatial Tainoya where he had been residing these past two months. Bathing in the tranquility of these surroundings and that of his own contentment, he further indulged his serenity by sipping on warm Saki and drinking in the sight of the resting Koi as they floated near the top of the water. These shimmery individuals, Kohakus to Chagois, had all enjoyed their day. But now, as was this most feared wizard, they too were relishing the stillness of the summer night.

After his fierce and draining battle with Dumbledore earlier that summer, Voldemort had retreated to the Far East to renew his energy and restore his powers. It was a land he’d grown fond of during his early adulthood, and a placehe often visited.

During his employment to Borgin and Burkes, Tom Riddle had traveled extensively, searching for yet undiscovered dark treasures that his employer could sell for profit. On these trips, he made numerous acquaintances and developed associations with those he found intriguing or useful. One such acquaintance,an aristocratic Asian wizard, owned a magnificent estate located in the mountainous Niigata region of Japan. Aside from his wealth and willingness to accommodate the Dark Lord, this devoted acquaintance was also a gifted strategist and Voldemort took advantage of his insight to advance his cause.

The two spent much time discussing military strategy, both historical and tactical.Voldemort’splan was to first gain control of Europe, then Asia. When both sides of the continent were under his control, he would focus his intent onRussia, eventually conquering the entire north eastern hemisphere and ultimately the entire planet.

It would be a long and arduous process, but he was determined to succeed. There was however, one minor thing standing in his way. A sole individual, confirmed by prophecy as someone capable of not only impeding the Dark Lord's plan, but of actually destroying him. And so this individual had to be removed, but accomplishing thistask had thus far proven elusive.

His previous failures to rid himself of this nemesis, a mere boy, only added fervor to his intent so that now, even in his weakened state, he determinately continued to send painful reminders of his presence and ultimate threat.

Voldemort had devised a new strategy and soon he would return to Europe to implement this plot. He was fixed on succeeding this time; to that end he would devote his total efforts.

You have thwarted me far too long Harry Potter. It is time for all of this to end. I shall rid myself of you, then there will be no one to stand in my way.

~~~~~

For nearly two weeks solid, Helena came to the Burrow on a daily basis to work with Harry. She believed that a consistent series of sessions would get him to the point where he'd be able to cope with returning to Hogwarts.

The sessions took place every afternoon just after lunch;some were harder than others, some more confusing. Often Harry would become frustrated, not understanding where Helena was leading him with her difficult questions. At first he kept hoping that she would just tell him how to make sense of everything, or say something that would ease his guilt; but eventually he realized these sessions would never provide a magical cure, only lots of questions, lots of soul searching and always the dreaded act of talking. And it was he, Harry, who had to do most of the talking.

He spoke about his childhood and the Dursleys, the cupboard under the stairs and his wanting to be loved and accepted. Helena pressed him to recall each memory and every hurt feeling.

It took hours and hours. Often when a session ended, he felt completely drained and could do nothing more than go to his bedroom to sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. He would come dragging out of his room at suppertime looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Then after dinner he would retreat to the back porch swing, quiet and sullen.

Helena assured Molly, Arthur, and their worried children that this was not unusual; that indeed, the difficult emotional work Harry was undertaking was physically taxing. Her advice was to offer love and support, and for Molly to cook the most appealing foods possible in an attempt to get Harry to eat more and hopefully regain some of the weight he’d lost over the summer.

During the second week of sessions Harry's reactions began to change. He gradually started exhibiting minute yet genuine interest in the goings-on and activities within thegentle foldof the Burrow.

It was just after dinner, about eight days before the beginning of classes. Harry headed out to his regular spot on the porch swing only to find it already occupied by his long time best friend. "Hey, Ron."

"Hey, Harry."

"What are you looking at?"

Ron was surprised by Harry's interest and the fact that he even noticed the letter. "These are my OWL results. They came this afternoon while you were with Helena."

"They did?"

"Yeah, we were all talking about it at dinner. Weren't you listening?"

Harry was baffled that somehow he’d missed the entire discussion. "Um ... I guess not." He ran his hand through his messy mop of hair. "So, how did you do?"

"Okay, I guess. Here, look for yourself." Ron handed Harry the letter then rose from the swing. "I'll be right back."

Harry studied the results as he moved to sit down on the swing, noting that Ron had passed everything but Divination and History of Magic. He was genuinely surprised to see the Acceptable grade in Potions. He also noted that Ron had been made Captain of the Quidditch Team for their sixth year. Reading that sentence brought back many painful memories. Dolores Umbridge, Harry's lifelong ban from Quidditch, Sirius, the Veil ...

The sounds of the Weasleys pouring out of the house roused Harry from his sinking thoughts. He looked over to the approaching sea of redheads and noticed that Ron was holding another envelope.

Wrapping her arm around Harry, Molly handed him the envelope. "Go on dear, open it. These are your OWL scores."

Even though he took hold of the envelope, Harry couldn't bring himself to open it. It was Molly's whispered words that gave him the assurance he needed. "Dear, we all love you. Whatever is written on that parchment would never change how we feel about you."

"Come on, Harry!" chimed Ron. "We've waited all afternoon."

"Yeah, just open it. It'll be fine," encouraged Ginny.

Hesitantly, Harry opened the envelope,unfolded the missive and read aloud his OWL scores:

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Divination: Dreadful

History of Magic: Dreadful

Astronomy: Poor

Care of Magical Creatures: Exceeds Expectations

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Potions: Acceptable

"Brilliant! We both got the scores we need to become Aurors!"

"No we didn't. We didn’t pass Potions."

"You really weren't listening, were you," replied Ron. "Go on Dad, tell him."

"You see Harry, with all the chaos casused by Madame Umbridge last term, and the fact that only a handful of students received an Outstanding on their potions score, the Headmaster” Arthur quirked his face, deciding what word to use, “encouraged Professor Snape to take students with Acceptable grades and higher.”

"See Harry, I told you," smirked Ron.

Harry was stunned. "I don't believe it."

"Well done, dear," cooed Mrs. Weasley.

"You should be very proud of those scores," offered Arthur.

"Thanks." Harry looked at everyone surrounding him. "Thanks, all of you. You've been so great to me, taking me in and all."

"You don't have to thank us, dear."

"No Mrs. Weasley, I do. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. And I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused..."

"Now you listen to me, Harry." Arthur said adamantly. "We'll have no apologies. You are a member of this family. It may not be in writing, but it is within our hearts. We are here to support each other, in good times and bad."

A bit overwhelmed at Mr. Weasley's sincere declaration, Harry lowered his head. "Thanks Mr. Weasley."

"Go on Harry, open the other letter."

"What other letter?"

"That one, silly," she said smirking as she pointed toward his lap.

Sure enough, there was indeed another letter, but this one was from the Ministry.Harry inhaled sharply, feeling a sudden sense of panic.

"Everything is fine," Arthur assured him. "Go ahead and open it."

Holding his breath, Harry opened the letter and read it silently.

"Well? What does it say?" asked Ron.

"The Ministry lifted the ban," he looked up with amazement, "I'm allowed to play Quidditch again."

Excited over Harry's news, Ronthrew both arms into the air and whooped with glee. Unfortunately, he also fell backward off the railing and landed in Molly's treasured Hydrangea bushes.

"Ronald Weasley! How many times do I have to tell you to act your age?"

Ron stood up, rubbing his sore behind and looked at the now squashed bushes. "Sorry, Mum."

But the sound emanating from her left quelled Molly’s anger. At first it was just a small chuckle, but when Ron stood up in full view with Hydrangea flowers protruding from his shirt and hair; Harry broke out in laughter.

Seeing Harry so happy spurred the others to join him and soon a regale of laughter filled the back porch. Mollywrapped her arm around Harry and held him tightly to her. She sighed in relief and offered a silent thank you to Merlin. It had been a long stressful summer, but this first glimmer of happines from Harry gave her hope: hope that he was coming out of his depression, hope that he was indeed healing and hope that someday he might find joy in life.

"You're very quiet today," Helena commented to Harry as they sat once again beneath the Mulberry tree.

The previous day, Molly had taken the three teens on the customaryshopping excursion to Diagon Alley for books and supplies. The Ministry sent along two Aurors to assure Harry's safety and the trip was completed without incident.

Harry had originally thought the outing would be a welcome diversion, but as they went from shop to shop the whispers and curious stares evoked trepidation and anxiety.

"I'm sorry Helena, it's just that . . . "His sentence trailed off as he nervously fiddled with a hole in his jeans.

She leaned forward. "It's just what, Harry?"

He bit his lip and stared at the hole, "It's just that, last term . . . after …" He struggled to get the words out of his suddenly dry mouth. "Well,I didn't see anyone before we all left for the summer break. "

His enigmatic statement left the counselor at a loss. "I'm sorry Harry, I'm afraid I don't follow. "

He fidgeted some, then tried again. "I pretty much stayed with Hermione, Ron and Ginny in the infirmary that final week of school. I guess I was kind of avoiding everyone, so I really didn't talk to any of my friends after . . . after what happened at the Ministry,"his sentence trailed off in a whisper.

"I see; you're nervous about seeing the other students?"

He lowered his gaze and answered with a silent nod.

"Harry, what they might think … ?"

"But that's just it," he suddenly blurted out, "it's not what they think, it's what they know! Everyone knows. It was in the papers … and people talk. " He buried his face in his hands,"How can I face them after what I did . . . after what he did to me?"

Helena was a bit startled by his sudden outburst. When she'd first began working with Harry, he had been withdrawn from his environment and from those around him, with his emotions buried behind his wall of sadness. As she worked with him, they had accomplished a solid start by tackling many of the childhood scars. But as of yet, they had barely touched upon the more recent traumatic incidents.

"What is it you think they'll say to you?"

He lowered his hands but kept his gaze down, "We went to Diagon Alley yesterday. Everywhere we went, people were whispering and pointing at me. That's not new; people always do that, because I'm the 'Boy Who Lived'. But now they're probably all saying that I'm a big dolt who ran off and got a bunch of people hurt and killed. "

"That's not what the media says," Helena countered. "Everything I've read casts you as a hero. "

He drew in a sharp breath, as if her words had actually caused him pain.

"Please Harry, share with me what you are thinking. " He looked out across the garden and released his breath which shook as it left his body. "I haven't told this to anyone . . . " He started to tremble slightly as tears welled in his eyes.

Helena waited patiently. Whatever this hidden secret was, she knew that Harry would have to face it by verbally acknowledging it. After a long painful silence, he finally continued.

"When Voldemort possessed me, all I wanted to do. . . was die. " He released a small nervous titter. "That doesn't sound like much of a hero. "

Helena sat quite still as the tact of the conversation had taken on mega proportions. "It would help if you could relay your experience to me. " When Harry remained silent, she pressed, "Can you do that?"

He forced a swallow and then began to tell her about the possession: the pain from Voldemort's suffocating presence within him, how he thought that if he could only die then Voldemort and the pain would be gone and he, Harry, would once again see Sirius.

"But you didn't die, you lived. How do you feel about that now?"

"His expression echoed his confusion and sadness. "I don't know," he whispered.

They spoke for most of the afternoon; Helena guided Harry in examining all of his impressions and feelings regarding the loss of Sirius, the possession andhis right to life and happiness.

"It's going to take time to put all of that behind you. Even so, it will always be a part of you. As for the public's opinion, it doesn't matter. "

"That's easy for you to say. "

"Would you rather stay here?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Where?"

"Here, at the Burrow. "

"You mean, not go to school?"

Helena had learned much about Harry's character during their work together; already knowing what his answer would be, she guided him through a bit of self-discovery. "Yes, you could just stay here. "

Harry was shocked. Not go to school, to Hogwarts, his home? He couldn't do that. He loved Hogwarts, living in the dormitory, being able to do magic, seeing his friends, and now that he was allowed to play Quidditch again — there was only one answer.

"No. I don't want to stay here, but I also don't know how I'm going to face everyone. "

Helena set her quill and parchment down upon the grass, and then leveled a determined look at him. "Harry, I wish to offer you a bit of advice, something I believe in my heart to be true. Is that all right?"

This was a first, he thought. Generally, Helena only asked questions; granted, they were leading questions but she always made him do the talking. So perhaps she was finally going to give him that panacea he had been waiting and hoping for. "Okay. "

"Harry,I know that you are overwhelmed and frightened. Seeing all of your peers will be a daunting task, but I also know that Hogwarts is very important to you, so much so, that you are willing to face your own vulnerabilities in order to be there. I support you in that decision and I commend you for it. I believe you to be a brave young man, but you are also human and certainly not invincible. "

As she spoke these words of sincerity, his tears began to spill over his lashes — again. During their work together, Helena had witnessed Harry break into tears so often that by now, he had given up any effort to hide his emotions. So he held his gaze and looked at her through swimming emerald eyes.

"I would like to continue our sessions once you have returned to Hogwarts. We can be very discreet about this, no one need know. It is one thing to be a figurehead, but you are also your own person and you deserve the respect to have your private matters — private. "

She noticed him release the smallest of sighs.

"Returning to school will be a challenge," she continued, "and I will be there to help you, as will your friends and your teachers. And so, here is my advice. "

Here it comes.

"Approach it one day at a time. Don't overwhelm yourself thinking about how you're going to make it through the entire school year or deal with the entire student body. Just think of getting through one day at a time and one person at a time. If that is too much, then try to get through one class or one hour, or even five minutes. If things get to be too much, call for me and I will come. "

It wasn't the fix-all he'd been hoping for, but he still felt overwhelmed and couldn't seem to find his voice, so he just nodded.

"You'll be all right, Harry. "She smiled with that look of serenity which only Helena could offer. Her assurance gave Harry a bit of peace with his decision to return to Hogwarts, andhe hoped that with help from her and from of all those who cared about him, perhaps things might be all right.

~~~~~

The day of departure turned out to be the usual chaotic affair, with everyone collecting their belongings and trying to get to Kings Cross station on time.

Hermione and Ginny squealed with glee when they saw each other, hugs were shared and all the initial greetings exchanged. As they waited to board the train, Harry noticed that Ron was unusually quiet around Hermione anddecided to inquire after his friend's odd behavior later on, when an opportunity presented itself.

Not long after the train departed, Hermione headed off to herprefects meeting and Ginny left to sit with Dean. Ron and Harry wound up sharing a compartment with Luna and Neville,who were chattingnonstop about the oddest array of subjects, and occupied their time during the long the journey by playing Exploding Snap and Wizards Chess.

Harry felt at ease with his compartment mates, for they had all been with him that fateful day at the Ministry and knew to keep that topic of discussion unspoken. As for those that stopped by to say 'Hi', they were congenial towards him and kept their conversations light. No one brought up the subject of the Ministry or Sirius, much to Harry's relief.

Late that afternoon, Luna and Neville went to go visit some of her Ravenclaw friends. After they left, Harry decided to try and discover the reason for Ron's odd behavior earlier that day.

"Sure was nice to see Hermione again. "

"Queen's Knight to G4. What?Oh yeah, she looks great. "

Harry speciously perked his eyebrows. "You can say that again. "

Ron's head snapped up,"What do you mean by that?"

"I just mean,"Harry shrugged a bit, "that she looks . . . different. "

"Yeah, I noticed. It's like she grew up, filled out . . . you know?"

"Yeah . . . I noticed. King's Bishop to F3. "

"But more than that Harry, it's not just that she … well, you know . . . . filledout. She's different somehow. It's like she's, um, I don't know how to describe it — mature, maybe?"

Harry looked out the window, trying to think of the word that might best describe the new Hermione. "How about . . . cosmopolitan?"

"Cosmo-what?What does that mean?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, knowing that Ron would clam right up if he felt at all pressed. "It's someone who's been around people from other countries and stuff; it kind of affects how they are. See … you know the Burrow and Hogwarts, and I know Little Whinging and Hogwarts. But Hermione's been to all kinds of places. "

"I went to Egypt once. " Ron offereddefensively.

"Yeah. "

Ron thought about Harry's words for a minute while silently nodding his head. "Yeah, that's what she is now, cosmopolitan. " He smiled and then whispered quietly to himself, "I like that. "

Encouraged, Harry decided to investigate further but before he could pose his next question, the compartment door slid open and in came none other than Hermione. She collapsed onto the bench with a tremendous sigh, sitting down right next to Ron. "I thought that meeting would never end. "

"Anything interesting?" asked Harry.

"Actually. . . yes. But you'll have to wait until the Welcoming Feast to find out. The Headmaster is going to address all the returning students. "

"He is?Do you know what he's going to say?" asked Ron.

She nodded her head. "Yes, I do. Anthony was given a copy of the speech to read to theprefects. "

"Why, where are you lot going to be?"he asked.

"We're supposed to escort all the first years to their dormitories before he begins his speech. "

"Oh. So, what's he going to say?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, Harry"

"Oh, come on Hermione; you can tell us. "

"No I can't," she huffed. "Anyway, you two need to get into your robes; we're almost there!"

Surprised, both Ron and Harry looked out the window and realized that Hermione was indeed correct, they were indeed nearing Hogsmeade.

"How did we get here so fast?" asked Ron.

"I don't know, but I've gotta loo. I'll be right back. "

"No worries mate. I'll put the Chess game away. "

Harry jumped up and left the compartment. As he headed down the hallway, he watched all the students ducking into compartments to change into their robes and prepare for the train's arrival at the station.

Finishing up in the loo, Harry decided to splash some water on his face before heading back. His scar had been prickling for the last half hour and had started to give him another headache. Aside from these headaches and the occasional burning of his scar, Voldemort had been fairly quiet all summer. If he and everyone else cooperated,Harry might just enjoy a nice normal school year for once in his life. He smiled at the prospect.

But this was Harry Potter, the prime target of Voldemort, the focus of several vengeful Death Eaters and someone who always seemed to attracttrouble. Harry's short lived bliss came to an abrupt end when he opened the door.

A strong blow threw him backward against the wall of thewashroom. Immediately, his neck was pinned by the enormous forearm of Gregory Goyle. Before he could make any sense of what had just happened, Goyle began delivering some well placed punches. Even though Harry was on the verge of blacking out, his magic had a mind of its own. The air around them started to crackle and the walls began to shake.

Crabbe opened the door just a crack. "What the hell's going on in there?" He looked around in a panic. "Hurry up and finish Greg; we've got to get going. "

"Okay Vince," responded Goyle, "just close the door already. "

Once the door was again closed, Goyle leaned in close and spit on Harry's face. "You don't scare me you freaky half-blood. " The walls shook even more. "My father is sitting in Azkaban because of you, and my mum cries all the time. " He delivered another punch. "You really screwed things up for my family Potter, and you're going to pay. " He pushed a little harder on Harry's neck. "You keep quiet about this, or we'll pay a visit to that Mudblood friend of yours. "

When Goyle pulled his arm away, Harry collapsed to the floor. Goyle stepped over the struggling teen and quickly closed the door behind him. He joined Crabbe and the two sauntered back to their compartment, two cars ahead.

They were proud of themselves for successfully pulling off what, according to them, would be the first of many taunts designed as a means to deliver vindication for their perceived injustice. Little did they realize however, that this initial brazen, bungling act would set into motion a series of consequences that would forever shape the wizarding world.

~~~~~

The train began to slow down as it approached Hogsmead Station. It had taken a while for Harry to collect himself, but he finally did manage to stand. Leaning heavily upon the wall for support, he made it back to the compartment, staggered through the door and collapsed onto the floor.

"Harry!" Ron moved immediately to help his friend. "What's wrong?"

Hermione took one look at Harry's rumpled state and made straightway for the corridor. She looked in both directions, but it was empty. Everyone was apparently in their own compartments, preparing to exit the train. She returned to Harry who was still on the floor and knelt down beside him. "Harry, who did this to you?"

Harry raised his hand, holding off their questions as he tried to get his breath.

"Why do you even ask, Hermione?It had to be Malfoy, of course. "

"Ron, Malfoy was in the prefect's meeting. He and Pansy were still in there talking when I left. "

"Not . . . Malfoy. "Harry responded with a ragged voice.

Hermione took hold of Harry by the elbow. "Come on Ron, help me get him up onto the seat. "

As the train pulled slowly up to the platform, Harry sat of the bench, taking little sips from the cup of water Ron had fetched for him.

Hermione was sitting right next to him and her eyes were glaring with ire. "Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter; you absolutely must report this!"

"No, Hermione," he gingerly rubbed his sore ribs. "I don't. And I want you and Ron to keep quiet. "

Hermione swelled with exasperation. "Harry, you're obviously not thinking clearly. We have to report this. Look at you!"

"Listen, this is my business, all right?I just want to forget it happened. I'm not going to report it, and neither are you two. Got it?"

"Sure mate, whatever you want. "

Hermione glared at Ron, then turned back to Harry. "I can't make that promise right now. But I will agree not to say anything just yet. We are going to talk about this later. But please, go see Madame Pomfrey; you're obviously hurt. "

"No, I'll be okay. And besides, that's one of my goals this year — to stay out of the hospital wing. "

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head? Because you're not thinking very clearly," she snapped.

"Hermione!" Ron retorted.

"Oh, forget I said that. Look, I have to go help with the younger students. Are you sure you'll be able to manage?"

"I'll look after him, Mione. Just send Ginny in here to help with Pig and Hedwig. "

"Okay. "With that, she gave Harry one more exasperated look then stood and left the compartment, mumbling to herself something about 'testosterone interfering with cognitive ability,'as she headed out the door.

~~~~~

Ron, Harry and Ginny eventually made it out to one of the awaiting carriages and on up to the castle. The Welcoming Feast got underway with Dumbledore's usual greeting and the sorting of first years. But the most intriguing highlight of the evening was the new Defense instructor, Professor Channon Jackson.

Seated next to Snape, the stark contrast between the two men was undeniable. Althougheach man's demeanor and carriage portrayed strength and elegance, the new professor was obviously taller and his larger frame was surrounded by a well defined musculature. Where Snape's skin was ivory and translucent; Jackson's was shaded a pale mocha. Both men had jet black hair; but as Snape's curtained his face, the new instructor's hair was straight, thick and hung like a sheet down the length of his back. Where Snape's chiseled facial features gave evidence to his European heritage; Jackson's face hinted at the exotic.

Throughout the entire feast, nearly every student in the room had theireyes glued on the newprofessor. But there were other observations which occurred throughout the meal.

Severus, who routinely scanned his Slytherins, couldn't help notice Crabbe and Goyle. They were snickering and whispering between themselves, and continually shot glances over to the Gryffindor table. Redirecting his attention in that direction, it was obvious that there was quite a bit of tension among the golden trio.

Granger and Weasleyrepeatedly cast worried looks in Harry'sdirection, while Harry occupied himself with pushing the food around on his plate and staring blankly at the table.

Glancing now back again toward the Slytherin table, Severus watched as Draco determinately tried listening to the conversation between Pansy and Theodore on his left, while ignoring Crabbe and Goyle's whispers to his right. But even Draco stole occasional glances in Potter's direction.

A clamor arose as all the first years vacated the Great Hall, led by their house Prefects. After they exited the Hall, Dumbledore stood to once again address the student body.

Ron nudged Harry to get his attention then nodded toward the front of the room, "Here it comes. "

Dumbledore and the professors moved to stand side-by-side in front of the Head table, displaying unity and strength.

"My dear students,as Headmaster, I wish to extend to you our wholehearted apology for the events of last year. It was a stressful period for all, and to many of you it was a time of unjustifiable hardship. On behalf of your instructors and Heads of House, I want to assure you that this year will mark a return to the familiar. All decrees implemented by Madame Umbridge have been revoked. Everything is as it was prior to her unfortunate appearance at this institution. It is our desire that this school year and all those to come be a time offruitful learning and happy experiences. Now, as you well know, classes will start bright and early tomorrow morning. " Then, Dumbledore stretched his arms out wide. "Live well, laugh often and learn much. Goodnight."

Many giggles sounded in response to the Headmaster's play on words. As benches were pushed and bodies clambered, thesilent attentiveness gave way to a cacophony of chatter and movement, but Harry remained in his seat.

"Come on, lets head on up. "

"Hold on, Ron. " He swallowed and took a little breath. "I want to wait till it clears out a bit. "

"Okay. "Ron looked a little more closely. "You know mate, you're a little pale there. "

"I'm fine, Ron. I just want to wait until it clears out some. All right?"

"Sure, Harry. "Ron feigned casualness as he continued to look on with concern.

Once they made it up to the Gryffindor common room, Harry headed straight on up the steps to the boy's dormitory, ignoring Hermione's attempts to resume their earlier conversation. He added very little to the first night's chatter amongst his dorm mates, but instead quickly got ready for bed. As he discreetly changed into his pajamas, he eyed the angry purple bruise that had formed on his lower chest, where Goyle had hit him repeatedly.

Ron caught a quick glimpse of the bruise and was about to suggest going to see Madame Pomfrey when Harry called out, "Good-night" to everyone, crawled into bed and drew the hangings closed.

"Harry, are you going to eat that last banger?"

Harry glanced down at the approaching fork and silently shook his head.

"Ron, you've practically eaten everything on this table single handedly." Hermione was a bit edgy this morning.

Ron speared the one remaining sausage. "Look, I can't help it if I'm hungry."

"Will you two please ... stop arguing," Harry pleaded as he rubbed his aching head.

The students of Gryffindor house were finishing breakfast and receiving their new class schedules from Professor McGonagall. Working her way down by year, she was just finishing up with the seventh years.

Harry was exhausted; the pain in his side had kept him awake most of the night and now added to that was one of his headaches.

"All right sixth years, move down to this end please," called out their Head of House.

After forming a queue, each sixth-year filed along to receive their schedule and a bit of advice before heading off for their first class.

"Oh no."

"Something the matter, Mr. Potter?"

"No Professor. It's just that..."

McGonagall glanced down at his schedule and quirked her lips, "I must say starting each week with Double Potions could be a bit daunting, but I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Yes Ma'am."

Harry shuffled off to join Hermione. She'd already received her schedule and was waiting for Harry and Ron. All three had qualified for sixth year potions, so they planned to walk down to the Dungeons, together.

"Mr. Potter?" asked McGonagall.

Harry turned. "Yes?"

"Are you well? You look a bit pale."

Shrugging, "I'm fine. Just one of my headaches" That, and my side is bloody well killing me.

"Well, if it gets any worse I want you to go see Madam Pomfrey. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

As soon as Severus finished sorting his Slytherins with their new class schedules, he headed straight for the dungeons knowing that the sixth years would already be lined up outside his classroom, waiting for him.

Finally reaching the potions lab, he strode quickly between the two queues of students hugging the walls to go and unlock the door, but he paused abruptly at the sudden appearance of an old, familiar feeling of uneasiness. There it is again.

Slowly, he resumed his path toward the door and opened it, allowing the students entry. He waited by the door and was once again surprised when Harry walked past him; for when he did, the uneasiness intensified and as he moved off toward his table, it diminished.

Severus remained standing by the door, astonished at this realization. He'd always attributed this uneasiness as the affect of Gryffindors and Slytherins occupying a relatively small area for a short period of time. Apparently there was a bit more to it than a simple case of two incompatible groups.

He shook his head to clear away the uneasy feeling and entered the classroom, striding toward the front he turned to survey the class. His preoccupation and odd behavior out in the hallway hadn't gone unnoticed and had given rise to wary glances from his students.

It was time for his intimidating speech regarding NEWT level potions, how everyone present should be grateful they had been allowed admittance into this class, how difficult the course work would be and so on. He delivered it with his usual aplomb. "I expect that each of you have completed the required reading for this first lesson." He then flicked his wand in the direction of the blackboard. "The directions are on the board. You may proceed."

With the student's attention now off of him and onto the task of brewing a difficult potion, Severus moved to take a seat at his desk and put on a show of busying himself with paperwork while in reality, he tried to further assess his recent discovery.

Why am I picking up on Potter's feelings? He shot a quick glance toward the young man. Granger had apparently headed off to retrieve the needed supplies from the cupboard, while Harry was attempting to start the fire under their cauldron. Now that Severus actually looked at Harry, it was obvious that something was wrong. His skin was pallid and his movements strained, as if he were in pain.

Severus's thoughts drifted back to that day when he'd stood in the hallway of the Dursley's house, beside the small cupboard under the stairs. At that time, he'd been blitzed with Potter's emotions, albeit shadows of what had originally transpired.

How can this be happening? Severus thought to himself. He'd always prided himself on his acute skills in Occlumency. Was it because of his work with Potter last school term? That time when Harry breached Severus's shield and entered his thoughts and memories, had some sort of connection been established?

A voice calling his name roused him from his musings. "Yes, Miss Parkinson."

"Professor, I'm not quite certain which part of this newt liver I'm supposed to use."

"I'm coming." Heading over to the awaiting students, he thought he'd take this opportunity to perform a small experiment and execute some subtle Legilimency.

After straightening out Pansy Parkinson, Severus proceeded to stroll about the room and survey the other student's progress. He made his way slowly over to Potter and Granger's desk and, stopping behind the pair, he reached out with the utmost of care and ever so lightly brushed upon the surface of Harry's mind.

In contrast to his gentle efforts, he encountered vehement emotions: feelings of intense pain, a sense of fierce determination, fear and the memory of repeated blows.

Severus immediately ceased his efforts and withdrew to his office, stepping just out of sight from those in the classroom; he leaned against a counter, unsettled by what had just transpired. There was no longer any doubt; Potter was injured and he received these injuries from some sort of altercation, and even though he was in great pain he was trying desperately to carry on in order to protect someone or something.

Potter needed medical attention, but Severus thought it unwise to have the teen strolling up to the third floor unassisted and unprotected. With the need for discretion in handling what was an apparently delicate situation, Severus closed the door to his office, cast a Muffliato charm and then Floo called the Headmaster.

A minute or two later, Severus was back in the classroom once again strolling amongst the students. There was a knock at the door. "Enter."

The door opened to reveal Albus Dumbledore.

"Good morning Headmaster."

"Good morning to you Professor Snape," Dumbledore replied in a cheery voice. "My apologies for the intrusion."

"No apologies are necessary," Severus returned silkily. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"I wonder if I might borrow Harry for a moment."

The students, having watched this volley of social banter, now focused their attention on Harry.

The surprised teen stared at Dumbledore who merely smiled back in response. Then Harry, Hermione and Ron all exchanged wary glances.

"Mr. Potter," interjected Severus, "do please move along so that the class might return to their potions."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry Professor." Harry gingerly lifted his school bag and followed the Headmaster out of the classroom.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"May I?" Dumbledore reached for Harry's schoolbag.

Bewildered, Harry simply handed over the bag which Dumbledore shrank and placed in his pocket.

"Shall we?" Dumbledore gestured to the hallway before them.

"Headmaster, what's going on?"

"I believe you are the only one who can answer that question."

"What do you mean?" They were now ascending the stairs. Harry had only been able to manage shallow breaths since his run-in with Goyle; going up the stairs was proving to be a challenge.

"Professor Snape was quite worried about you."

"He was?"

"Yes Harry, he was and still is."

"And he asked you to come for me?"

"He did indeed." Noticing that Harry was starting to lag, Dumbledore placed a supportive arm behind the teen's back. "Professor Snape could see that you were in pain and needed help. I must say, now that I've seen you myself, I wholeheartedly concur with his assessment."

"But Headmaster, I'm fine... Really, I am." Harry started to cough and grabbed his side.

Holding onto Harry a bit tighter, Albus watched as the young man struggled to catch his breath.

"Are... are we going... to your tower... Sir?"

Dumbledore patted Harry reassuringly. "No, we are going to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey is waiting for us. Specifically, she is waiting for you."

Harry looked up with an expression of fear. "No Headmaster, please. We can't. Really, I'm fine."

"Harry stop this. Obviously you are not fine. We are going to the hospital wing and you will allow Madame Pomfrey to heal you."

"But …"

"And I want you to tell me what happened? How did you receive these injuries and why did you not seek assistance?"

Harry's fearful expression grew into full-blown panic. "Oh no, Headmaster. Please, I...." A series of coughs interrupted his sentence. "If say anything... they'll hurt her."

"To whom are you referring?"

Unfortunately, he was going to have to wait for his answer for just then, Harry's complexion went from pallid to pure white. Dumbledore grabbed a hold of the teen as he started to collapse. "My boy, what's wrong?"

It took every bit of effort Harry could muster to answer, "Can't ... breath."

In a heartbeat, the aged wizard cast a Featherlight spell upon the struggling teen, swept him up in his arms and hightailed it to the infirmary.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

When the class ended, Severus enjoined Hermione and Ron to remain. After the other students left, he closed the door and attempted to get some answers. "Do either of you know how Mr. Potter received his current injuries?"

Not sure what to say or if they should even respond, they simply stared back at the Professor in silence.

"I'm waiting," he pressed.

Hermione broke first. "Oh Professor, it happened yesterday ... on the train."

"Exactly what happened, Miss Granger?"

"Someone beat him up, just before we pulled into Hogsmeade," added Ron.

"Someone? You don't know who?"

"No sir. Harry won't say who did it."

"Why won't he divulge the identity of the perpetrator?"

"We don't know that either, Sir." Hermione's voice was starting to quaver. "He refuses to talk about it and just keeps saying that he's fine. Professor, where is he now?"

Snape sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I would assume, the hospital wing. At least, that was where the Headmaster was taking him."

"You knew?" Ron's response was halfway between a question and an accusation.

Snape focused his inky black eyes on the redhead. "I am only aware of the facts you've just relayed, Mr. Weasley. It was obvious to me that Mr. Potter was in pain and needed help. Not wishing to draw unnecessary attention upon him, I asked the Headmaster if he would escort Mr. Potter to the infirmary."

"Professor, may we go see him?" pleaded Hermione.

Snape shook his head. "No, go to the Great Hall and eat your lunch. I will send word along shortly to report his status." Snape rose to leave, but paused. "Mind you, keep this matter strictly to yourselves. Understood?"

"Yes sir." They responded in unison.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus came upon Dumbledore as he was exiting the infirmary. He could see Harry and Madame Pomfrey further down the ward. "How is he?"

Albus sighed with relief "He'll be fine." He placed a gentle hand upon Severus's arm. "Thank you for acting so quickly. If you hadn't..." The old wizard shook his head, thinking about the alternative.

"Why? What happened?" asked Severus, surprised at his mentor's response.

Albus relayed the fact that Harry had three broken ribs and that while on their way to the infirmary, one of them had punctured the pleura causing one of Harry's lungs to collapse.

Poppy walked over to join the two wizards. "He's sleeping now."

"How long will he be in the infirmary, Poppy?" asked Albus.

"I've placed a healing charm upon the affected area. He'll need to remain very still while it draws the air out of the cavity. The entire process should take a day or so. After that he'll be free to go, but he'll need to take at easy for a couple more days, while his lung strengthens."

They discussed Harry's situation a bit further, then Poppy returned to her office after which Severus relayed the information he'd gleaned from his inquiries with Ron and Hermione. "Were you able to persuade Harry to divulge any details … the perpetrator's name perhaps?"

"Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle; I believe it was Mr. Goyle doing the hitting."

"You believe?"

"Well, he was rather preoccupied at the time, with just trying to take a breath."

Severus looked over to where Harry lay sleeping. "Why did he remain silent?"

"He was concerned for the safety of Miss Granger. I believe his exact words were, "they'll hurt her." Apparently they leveled a threat of seeking retribution upon Miss Granger, if Harry reported the beating."

Snape began to smolder. Not only were the two oafs completely out of line in attacking a fellow student, but the level of their tactics rivaled that of a Mountain Troll. Preoccupied with the distinct possibility that the Sorting Hat must have made a mistake when it sorted Crabbe and Goyle into Slytherin, he barely heard Dumbledore call his name.

"Severus?"

"Forgive me Albus, did you say something?"

"I asked if you had any further information."

He shook his head. "No, unfortunately I do not."

"Well then," Dumbledore sighed, "I believe it is time we paid a visit to Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe"

~~~~~

Later that day, Albus and Severus stood on the front steps of Hogwarts and watched as two Aurors escorted Crabbe and Goyle to the front gates.

Dumbledore had vacillated whether to bring official charges against the two young men or simply punish them there at the school. But then he discovered that Goyle had used a Brass Glove to carry out the beating, a dark arts artifact charmed with metal like properties which created the effect that Goyle's hand was encased in metal, easily breaking three of Harry's ribs. This act of wrongdoing was compounded by the fact that Goyle had blackmailed his victim into silence by threatening the welfare of yet another student. Albus was left with little choice in the matter. The two ruffians were about to Apparate to the Ministry to be brought up on charges of assault upon a minor, with the added charge of using an item of dark magic.

As Severus watched the progress of the four toward the Apparation point, he reviewed the content of the lecture he would be delivering to his Slytherins later that evening. He had called for a house meeting to be held in the Slytherin common room just after dinner where he planned to deliver an admonishment his snakes would not soon forget. Children of Death Eaters or not, anyone sorted into his house was expected to uphold the high standard of behavior befitting the name — Slytherin.

Also lost in thought, Albus continued to organize the plan he'd devised that afternoon. The event on the train with Crabbe and Goyle motivated Dumbledore to revisit the innumerable adversities that had plagued Harry since he'd reentered the wizarding world. It was now clear that a typical education in magic was simply not enough to prepare Harry for all that lay ahead of him.

Convinced that he'd already failed the young man repeatedly, Albus was determined to rectify the situation. That afternoon, he'd spoken to those individuals who would be involved and had arranged for a meeting to be held the following evening so that Harry could meet his new advisory team.

A silvery winged serpent flew directly in front of the two wizards. It swooped and spiraled around them until its antics drew both preoccupied men from their thoughts.

"Ah ... Harry is awake," chimed Albus.

Severus scowled at Poppy's frolicking Patronus. "Need it be so cheerful?"

"Now, now Severus." The two watched as the silvery serpent fade into nothing, now that its mission was complete. "If you will excuse me, I wish to meet with Harry and present my new plan to him. Good luck with your meeting this evening."

"Thank you, Albus. Good luck with Harry, and please give him my regards."

When Dumbledore reached the third floor landing, he turned and stared down the corridor leading toward the hospital wing. His thoughts were consumed with his past choices regarding to this powerful young wizard, this teen who was to be the savior of their society. The fact that they'd almost lost Harry three times in just the past four months had left Dumbledore shaken and he was determined to rectify the situation.

He thought back on that evening at the Burrow when he'd spoken with Harry and held the teen as he broke down into sobs. For too long, Albus had thought of Harry as a tool needed to defeat Voldemort, but he had failed to acknowledge that first and foremost Harry was an individual, a young man with emotions and dreams, someone who had faced far too many hardships and someone who was now struggling to cope with his growing magic.

Confident that his new plan would set things right, Dumbledore patted the piece of folded parchment nestled in the pocket of his robe and began walking toward the infirmary.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"What's taking him so bloody long?" Ron huffed as he paced back and forth. "It's nearly curfew."

"Ron, don't be ridiculous." Hermione cast a Tempus. "We've only been waiting an hour."

She'd barely finished her sentence when the infirmary doors opened and out walked Dumbledore. "Ah, you're both here. Excellent."

"Headmaster, may we visit Harry?"

"I dare say you'd better, particularly you, Miss Granger."

"Me?" she asked.

"Ever since he awoke, Harry has been quite concerned over your well being. It was all Madame Pomfrey could do to keep him from going in search of you. But do try to keep your visit brief. He is rather drained."

"We will Headmaster, we promise."

Dumbledore continued on his way as Ron and Hermione sprinted into the infirmary.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Hermione gave Harry a heartfelt yet gently hug when she finally reached him. With tears in her eyes she thanked him repeatedly for his gallantry, forsaking his own well being to assure her safety. Then in the next breath, she scolded him for his lack of good judgment.

"Let the poor man breathe, Hermione."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're right Ron." She let go and sat back, looking at her friend with concern. "How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm okay." He asked in a whisper of a voice, "any homework?"

"Nope, everything was mostly review today." Ron stared at the magical encasement Madame Pomfrey had placed on Harry's side. It was slowly drawing the air out of the pleural cavity. "Wow mate, that thing looks bloody awful."

"Gee... thanks Ron" Harry was taking the smallest of breaths. It was obvious to both his visitors that trying to speak was presenting him with a bit of a challenge.

"Don't listen to him Harry," consoled Hermione. "But you do look a little pale."

Harry sank deeper into his numerous pillows. Because he was and would continue to experience trouble with his breathing until his lung had fully inflated, Madame Pomfrey wanted to keep his torso elevated to help alleviate some of the distress. "I'm okay, just really tired, and it's... kind of hard... to get a breath." Since Harry could only manage shallow breaths, he could only get out a few words at a time.

"Then you just go to sleep and we'll be by tomorrow..."

"Hold on," interjected Ron. "I want to know what Dumbledore had to say. He was in here for bloody all evening. He made us wait out in the hallway, the git."

"Ron!" scolded Hermione.

"Sorry." Ron looked around sheepishly to make sure no one had heard him. "So mate, what did he say?"

Harry lolled his head to the side and nodded toward the piece of folded parchment sitting on top of the nightstand. "That."

Hermione snatched up the parchment and began examining it. "Harry, this is a new schedule."

Harry decided just to nod instead of talk.

"You have additional courses, and..."

What additional courses?" interrupted Ron.

Hermione shot Ron an exasperated look. "Ronald Weasley, must you always...." Hermione stopped midsentence, silently counted to ten and then addressed Ron in a placating voice. "If you would please be patient for just a moment, I will read the list to you."

Moving just their eyes, Ron and Harry exchanged a silent, knowing look.

"In addition to his regular classes, Harry is going to be having an independent study class with Professor Jackson, mentoring sessions with Dumbledore and ... Occlumency with Professor Snape."

"Occlumency ... again?" Ron said in aghast.

Harry pursed his lips and nodded his head.

"Harry," added Hermione, "that really is for the best. Your scar keeps bothering you and you're still getting those headaches."

He just continued to nod.

"But, we're talking Snape!" exclaimed Ron.

Harry attempted to explain. It really was an effort to breathe and talk all at the same time. "Dumbledore promised me... it would be different this time. He promised that Snape.... would be nice to me."

"Hey mate, did you know it was Snape who got help for you?"

Again, Harry settled on just nodding his head. He really was getting quite tired.

"What about your sessions with Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, "Was he at all specific?"

"My wild magic." He answered defeatedly.

Madame Pomfrey called out as she approached the bedside. "All right you two, Mr. Potter needs to get some rest."

"Yes ma'am," they both answered.

"Rest up mate. We'll come by and visit you tomorrow."

Hermione gave Harry a gentle hug and whispered in his ear, "Thanks again Harry, but don't you ever do anything like that again." She and Ron headed back to the tower, waving their goodbyes as they exited the infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey handed her patient a vial of Dreamless Sleep then set about removing the collected air from the encasement.

"I don't think I'll... even need this. I'm really tired"

"You need a full night of uninterrupted sleep. Drink up, Mr. Potter."

Poppy sat down on the edge of the bed. She generally maintained a no-nonsense approach with her patients, but Harry always seemed to have so many trying experiences and had been such a frequent visitor to the infirmary that she'd developed a soft spot for the teen. "Harry, I wish you had come to me sooner. We could have avoided all these complications."

"Sorry."

She shook her head while tucking the blankets around his shoulders. "I wasn't seeking an apology from you, Harry. To be honest, considering all that happened last year, I can understand your reticence."

Harry's eyes were starting to droop. "Sometimes it's hard... to know... what to do." His eyes closed fully and Poppy could tell that he had drifted off to sleep.

She sighed and reached over to brush back his fringe. "What are we going to do with you, Mr. Potter?"

"What the bloody hell?" Ron muttered in disbelief as Hermione squealed, "Harry!"

"Mr. Potter!" called out Professor Flitwick. "You need only to establish the charm; please do not cause a flood in the classroom!"

Startled from his preoccupation, Harry stared from his thunderstruck friends to the torrent of water gushing from his wand.

"Finite!" he shouted.

The flow of water stopped immediately, but Harry's eyes grew wide with shock when he turned around and saw Professor Flitwick standing ankle deep in the water.

"Professor ... I'm so sorry. I'll fix it." Harry panicked and incanted, "Evanesco!"

All the water disappeared. However, so did every bit of detritus that had been lurking about in the classroom. An odd sucking sound was heard and felt by all as every spec of dirt, lint and dust disappeared from the floor, the tables, the student's clothes and every nook and cranny.

The students, Professor Flitwick and Harry stood stock still as they all tried to determine what had just taken place.

"Mr. Potter!" The tiny professor walked briskly over and reached up to grasp Harry's hand, encouraging him to lower his wand. "Mr. Potter?" He repeated in a calm tone of voice.

Shaken, Harry looked down at the tiny wizard; it seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion. "Yes Professor?"

"I think that's enough for today. Perhaps it best you take your seat."

"Yes sir." Harry felt a bit dazed. He walked to his desk and heard faintly as Flitwick called out for the other students to resume the practical. He did not however notice his professor cast a Patronus charm and send it flying out the classroom door.

The Aguamenti charm had been the lesson topic for this first Charms class of the semester. Most of the sixth year students were only managing sporadic drips to piddling dribbles of water. But Harry, his thoughts absorbed with all that had been discussed during the Headmaster's meeting that previous evening and anxious over his upcoming Occlumency lesson with Snape, had barely paid attention during the lecture and then failed to notice his overt success at casting the charm.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Harry sat down and lowered his head. It was one thing to lose control of his magic in private or in front of the Dursley's, but to have lost control in Charms?

He was beyond embarrassed he was humiliated, but he also knew he needed to calm down before something else happened. Not sure what to do, he decided to concentrate on taking steady breaths. Counting to ten had helped Hermione the other day, so he gave that a go as well. The breathing and counting seemed to work and his panicky feeling abated. Unfortunately, his goal of avoiding any further humiliation failed when the new DADA professor walked into the classroom.

Channon Jackson, his expression neutral, was the epitome of composure as he stood and listened to Filius relay the events of the Aguamenti fiasco. When the tiny Charms professor finished Jackson quietly asked Harry, who was now mortified beyond words, to accompany him from the room.

This escorted exit from a class marked the second such occurrence to have taken place only three days into the new fall semester.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Why don't you shrink your book bag Harry and put it in your pocket," suggested Channon.

"Professor, I'm really sorry about all of this."

"Not to worry, not to worry."

This wasn't the way Harry had wanted to start things off with his new DADA professor. Dumbledore had said so many good things about Jackson that Harry was actually looking forward to Defense classes this year. Defense and Quidditch were, in his opinion, the only things he did well and now look what happened. He probably thinks I'm a total dolt. "Where are we going, sir?"

"I thought we'd take a walk. I want to talk with you for a bit."

Yeah, I bet you do. "Yes sir." They were descending the great stairway when it finally dawned on Harry that the professor had been calling him by his first name.

Dumbledore had approached Channon two months previous, imploring him to take a sabbatical from his duties as an Unmentionable and come teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He'd explained how the students had fallen terribly behind in Defense, one of the ramifications of the nightmarish tenure of Dolores Umbridge, and that he wanted Channon to work with them and bring them back up to speed.

Then on the first day of school, spurred by the attack upon Harry Potter and his episodes of wild magic, the Headmaster had sought out Channon once again, this time asking him if he would be willing to become a sort of personal trainer to the young wizard.

Harry hadn't spoken much during the meeting that previous evening, but Dumbledore had already told Jackson a great deal about the "Boy Who Lived."

Channon had taken immediately to Harry, sensing the young wizard's sincerity and good heart and he personally welcomed the opportunity to be able to help this person who was destined to save their world.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The duo walked until they reached the lake. It was now late afternoon and rather warm outside. The Professor stopped to remove his robe and suggested that Harry do the same. After shrinking their robes, they continued walking along the shoreline. Then Channon asked Harry to retell, in his own words, what happened during Charms. He'd postulated a reason for Harry's dilemma and after hearing Harry's accounting, he determined his theory was correct.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Professor?"

Jackson paused, "Listen, when you and I are working together, I would prefer you just use my first name, all right?"

His request, although surprising, immediately put Harry at ease. "Yes sir. I mean, okay … Channon."

The Eurasian wizard smiled brightly. "Super. Let's keep going." They resumed their walk. "Now Harry, please tell me what you think magic is."

"What magic is?"

"Yes."

Harry thought for a moment. "Magic is .... well, magic."

"Could you be a bit more specific?"

Harry suddenly wished Hermione was there with them. "Um, well." Then an idea struck. "I know ... magic is power."

"Better; but try to be even more precise."

Harry thought and thought about what magic could possibly be. The longer he thought about it, the slower his pace became until finally he just stopped and stood there in disappointment for having failed this first test. "I guess I don't know what magic is."

Channon gave him a pat on the back, "Don't worry about it." Then he looked out across the lake, "Why don't we go sit down on that rock over there?"

They maneuvered across an outcropping of large rocks that reached far out into the water; at the very end was a large flat boulder.

Channon sat down, removed his shoes and socks and plunked his feet into the water.

Not sure what to make of this, Harry decided to just sit down next to him. They were quiet for a while as each wizard took in the quiet stillness of the water.

Eventually, Channon tossed a small stone into the water. "Do you know what causes the water to ripple when a rock is thrown into it?

"Well, I think it's called displacement or something like that."

"You're right. But exactly what is making the ripples occur?"

Harry paused, and then offered a timid guess. "Energy?"

Channon smiled enthusiastically, "Excellent Harry! It is indeed energy." He tried once more. "Now, let me ask you again; what is magic?"

It seemed so obvious now. "It's energy. Magic is energy, right?"

"Yes, magic is energy." Channon continued with a passionate zeal, "Harry, everything in the universe has this energy: the planet, the trees, the water, even this rock that we are sitting on — they all have this energy."

This was a novel concept to Harry. He thought about everything having its own energy and he tried to grasp what that might imply. Then, the memory of what had just happened earlier in class surged back into his mind. "Yeah but Channon, this rock doesn't go around flooding classrooms, and I don't think a tree would break all the windows in my Uncle's house."

"No, they wouldn't," he paused for effect, "but neither are they you."

"Excuse me?"

"Harry, you must realize that you possess a tremendous amount of this energy, or as we like to call it — magic. This isn't a bad thing; it's a good thing."

"Not if I can't control it." Harry picked up his own pebble and threw it out into the water. "I don't know why it's getting worse."

"How old are you?"

"I just turned sixteen last month."

Channon held his hands out to the side as if to say — Well there you are.

"What do you mean?" Harry imitated the motion. "I don't understand."

"You'll soon reach the age of majority."

"Yeah, I know; I'll legally be able to do magic whenever I want."

"There is a bit more to it then that."

"What?" He was growing more and more perplexed by the second.

"Harry," the expression on his face marked his surprise at Harry's naivety, "you'll come into your full power."

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with not being able to control my magic? Everyone gets their full power at seventeen, but you don't see them going around accidently making the castle shake."

The professor sighed with exasperation. "Not- everyone- is- you," he emphasized each word for effect.

"I know," his voice sounded very small. "I always mess up in class, get into trouble, and..."

Channon interrupted Harry midsentence, "No wait, you misunderstood me. I'm not talking about grades or school rules; I'm talking about the enormous amount of magic you possess." He looked imploringly at the baffled young wizard. "Hasn't anyone ever spoken to you regarding this possibility?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Harry shouted in frustration.

"I can see that!" Channon leveled right back.

Harry gasped. "Oh Merlin, I yelled at a professor. I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean ..."

"Don't worry about it." Channon patted Harry on his shoulder, "I know you've been through a lot this week."

Then he pulled out his wand and pointed it toward the castle. "Expecto Patronum." A large silver tiger erupted from the end of the wand and flew up toward the Headmaster's tower.

Harry watched with amazement as the powerful Patronus sailed off out of view, then turned and looked questioningly at his professor.

Channon cleared his throat and took a determined breath. "Harry, I am going to explain everything to you, right here, right now. You must understand exactly why you are having these surges, and that you are not alone in this phenomenon."

His hand was still on Harry's shoulder and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, I'll teach you how to deal with your growing power."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Almost two hours later, Harry and Professor Jackson came strolling into the Great Hall for dinner. Harry headed toward Gryffindor table while the DADA professor made his way up to the high table.

"Where have you been?" asked Ron when Harry sat down next to him. "The Headmaster told us you'd be late and not to worry, but nothing else."

"I fixed a plate of food for you and placed a Warming charm on it," added Hermione.

"Thanks Mione, I'm starving." He noticed she'd included a rather large spoonful of vegetables. Sidetracking the vegetables, he dove in on the roast and potatoes.

"Are you going to tell us what made you so late for dinner?" Hermione pressed.

Harry swallowed quickly, "Why didn't you two tell me what a great teacher Cha... Professor Jackson is? "

"Just when were we supposed to do that? Let's see…" Ron stared at the ceiling while precariously waving around a spoonful of chocolate gateau. "Were we supposed to tell you during the two minutes we were allowed to see you Monday night? or perhaps on Tuesday when we were all in class and you were still in the infirmary; or how about Tuesday night, when you were in your meeting with the Headmaster, Snape, Channon and McGonagall?"

"Okay, okay ... I get the point." He decided to give the vegetables a try, "Anyway, he's great. He explained everything to me."

Harry then relayed to his friends what the professor had explained regarding his wild magic.

Hermione had been about to take a sip of pumpkin juice, but she stopped and stared in surprise while holding her glass just inches from her lips.

"You okay there, Mione? asked Ron.

"I'm trying to recall if I've ever read of such occurrences." She set down the glass, "Certainly there should be something of this phenomenon mentioned in Modern Magical History or one of our Magical Theory books."

"I don't think it would be," Harry answered, "cause' it doesn't happen very often. According to Professor Jackson, this has only happened to Merlin, Dumbledore, Voldemort and now… me." Harry ducked his head with embarrassment as he finished this proclamation.

"Wow," commented Neville, "you must feel so important."

"I wouldn't put it that way," Harry sighed. "Mostly, I feel relieved, cause' I really thought I was starting to lose it."

Harry continued to eat his dinner, content to just listen as his friends chatted about his extraordinary measure of magic, his approaching majority and how all these magical surges were just a hint of what his ultimate magical level would be, and how only a handful of wizards had ever experienced magical surges during this stage.

Harry was so relieved to finally have an explanation for his wild magic, he found he actually had an appetite. Working away at the large plate of food Hermione had prepared for him, he contentedly stared off at nothing in particular while all the discussion continued on around him; his friends voices were a mere buzz in the background of his reverie.

The sound of scraping benches snapped him out of his daze; only then did he realize that he had been staring straight at Anthony Goldstein, who in turn was returning the gaze.

Anthony winked and offered a subtle, wispy grin, just before raising his tall, statuesque frame from off the bench. He passed a lingering glance over Harry before turning to leave the Great Hall.

Harry quickly dropped his gaze back down to his now empty plate, feeling awkward at the sudden fluttering sensations he was feeling.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

As Friday's sixth year Transfiguration class drew to a close, the students began packing up books and stowing away parchment and quills. "Attention, please," Professor McGonagall clapped her hands to restore some order. "Next week we shall begin our study of human transfiguration. Please read chapter two in your text and prepare a two foot long synopsis which I will collect on Tuesday. Your synopsis iwill/i be graded. Have a nice weekend." She ended in a cheery voice.

Ron immediately started complaining about the assignment. "I can't believe she gave us all that work to do over the weekend. I was hoping we could get in some serious Quidditch practice."

"I think we should use this free period and go straight to the library," suggested Hermione. "We could at least get the reading finished by suppertime."

"Can't." Harry quickly stowed away his copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. He cast a surreptitious glance before continuing in a whisper, "This is my scheduled session time with Helena."

"Oh, no worries mate. We'll cover for you."

"Thanks Ron."

"We'll see you at supper," added Hermione. "Come on Ron, you and I can get started on the assignment".

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed as Harry raced out of the classroom.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

High on the seventh floor, down the quiet corridor which housed the entrance to Headmaster's office was a sitting room, located just past the Gargoyle. Sparingly used, the Headmaster had the elves prepare this room as a comfortable, private location for Harry and Helena to conduct their continued sessions.

Entering the room, Harry saw Helena already seated in one of the richly upholstered chairs, sipping on a cup of tea. "Hi Helena, sorry I'm late."

"You're not late. Why don't you get yourself a cup of tea and relax a bit before we start."

She watched him prepare a cup, "You're looking so much better then you did on Tuesday. How is your breathing?"

Harry sighed as he sat down with an iOomph/i, "Oh, fine. Really, I feel good."

"Well, I'm relieved to hear that."

"Yeah, me too."

"And how are your classes going?"

He took a sip and squirmed in his chair a bit before answering, "Well, aside from missing the first two days caus' I was in the infirmary, and then flooding the Charms classroom on Wednesday, everything else has gone pretty well."

Helena's raised eyebrows told Harry that his smoothing over of events was not going to slip by without being discussed. By the time he'd finished repeating the conversation he'd had with Professor Jackson and all the implications and relief it entailed, then thoroughly hashing out Harry's own thoughts and emotions on the subject, nearly an hour had past.

"I must say, you seem very composed for such a monumental realization."

"Helena, to be honest — I'm relieved. For a while there I thought maybe Voldemort had something to do with the wild magic. But it isn't him, it's me; and Professor Jackson is going to help me learn how to deal with it. I have my first private class with him tomorrow morning."

"I'm happy for you, Harry. Now, our time is almost up; is there anything else you wish to discuss?"

The incident with Anthony flashed through his mind, but he didn't dare bring up that topic. Then there was the ever looming, dreaded Occlumency session with Snape later that evening. "Well yeah, there is."

"What?"

"I'm supposed to have an Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape this evening. My lessons with him last year ..." he lowered his head, "didn't go very well." His voice trailed off as he finished his sentence.

"Yes, you mentioned this during one of our sessions at the Burrow."

"Oh yeah, I guess I did."

"As I recall, you felt that Professor Snape's instructions were vague."

"You could say that again."

"Why don't you simply ask him to please present his instructions using different verbiage?"

Harry's head shot back up. "You're kidding, right Helena? Me? Ask Snape to use … what did you say — different verbiage? I think he'd shrink me and stick me in one of those jars he has sitting all over the place."

She laughed. "Just give it a try, Harry. Of course, phrase the request in your own words, and be polite."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I could give it a go."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Earlier that week, Dumbledore had approached Professors Snape, McGonagall and Jackson to go over the details of his plan for Harry's training.

As Harry's Head of House, Minerva was briefed on the increasing episodes of magical surges, the additional training he'd be receiving and the scheduled times for such. Channon Jackson would work with Harry one on one, teaching him the tools he'd need to deal with his ever growing power. Then, turning to Severus, Albus implored that he resume teaching Occlumency to Harry. The threat from Voldemort still existed; the ongoing headaches were a constant reminder that the Dark Lord was out there somewhere, biding his time.

To the Headmaster's surprise, Severus had actually embraced the task, seeing it as an opportunity to hopefully make amends for his past injustices.

That however, had proved easier said than done. Though his desire and intent were sincere, Severus's ability to teach was not one of his fortes. By his own admission, he was no teacher; he maintained this role as a means to carry out his duties for the Order. He was a researcher at heart; whether or not the students learned the art of Potion making was of little concern to him. Those with talent would grasp the knowledge and learn the needed skills; those that didn't— well, they'd do better concentrating their efforts elsewhere. No, this assignment of teaching Occlumency to Harry would mark the first time in his career as a professor that he honestly wanted to succeed in teaching a skill.

In the days following the meeting, Severus had devoted numerous hours of contemplation and painstaking revisions to develop the methodology he would use. He was determined for a successful outcome this time around with Harry.

It was Friday evening. Severus was sitting at his desk grading a pile of essays from the third year Potions class: Suspension Solution, or Pot of Poison?

Casting a Tempus, he noted that only six minutes remained until the scheduled first Occlumency lesson. Putting the essays aside, he stood up, stretched his tall lean frame and then began to pace slowly around his office, casting frequent glances toward the door.

On the other side of Snape's office door stood Harry; he'd arrived fifteen minutes early, determined not to be late. He was also just as determined to stay calm in order to keep a handle on his magic. iNotin front of Snape; I will not lose control in front of him./i

He was taking steadying breaths as he counted: four beats on the inhale, four beats on the exhale. He didn't know what else to do, but this seemed to help. He'd cast Tempus after Tempus while staring at the door, waiting, taking his breaths and counting. It was now eight o'clock. The time had come. Harry raised his hand — and knocked.

When Severus opened the door, both stood and stared at the other as each were immediately uneasy at being in the other's presence. This was the first time they'd been alone, at least to Harry's recollection, since that fateful Occlumency lesson last semester.

"Come in, Mr. Potter."

Harry quietly entered the office, keeping his sight lowered to the floor. "Good evening, Professor."

With Severus's newfound awareness of Harry's history, he could now see the obvious diffident nature of the teen. Unfamiliar, rudimentary seeds of compassion arose in his heart as the shame of his past transgressions washed over him anew.

"Please follow me." Heading off with Harry following warily behind, the two entered Severus's side chamber. This room was in complete contrast to the office they'd just left and Harry was awed by its elegance.

The walls were paneled in oak, stained a deep mahogany color and highly lacquered. Row upon row of books lined two of the walls; a fireplace occupied yet another. The floor was covered with a beautiful Persian rug, its designs portrayed in colors of emerald and silver. In front of the crackling fire, were positioned two dark green wingback chairs.

"Wow." Harry whispered.

"Please sit down, Mr. Potter."

"Yes sir." Harry looked all about the room as he went to sit down and was startled yet again, when Snape turned from the sideboard carrying two cups.

"Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"Thank you, sir." Stunned by the kind gesture, Harry took the offered cup and watched as Snape sat across from him. If he hadn't known what to make of Channon using his first name, he was at a complete loss over Snape being downright cordial.

iPerhaps this is a trick. Maybe he's trying to catch me off guard, Harry thought as he now looked down at the liquid in the cup with suspicion.

"It's Chamomile tea, Mr. Potter." Severus said plainly. "I thought it might help us to relax a bit."

Harry took one small, tentative sip and then waited for some sort of reaction; but nothing happened, so he tried another.

As Harry worked on trying to relax, Severus was busy gearing up for one of the most challenging undertakings he'd ever faced — apologizing to Harry Potter.

Severus had stood face to face with Voldemort, practiced Occlumency against him and outright lied to him. He'd killed and committed other atrocities he dare not recall. But to apologize alluded to vulnerability, and that was something Severus adamantly avoided.

Keeping an eye on the young man before him, Severus waited until Harry had visibly relaxed before proceeding. "Mr. Potter."

"Yes sir?" So much for tea, Harry thought, Here we go.

"Before we proceed, I wish to acknowledge my mishandling of these lessons last semester. I admit the impetus driving my egregious endeavors was vicious, but far worse; I was acting upon misguided conceptions of you. I offer you my repentance and assure you that henceforth, my aim toward a positive result will be genuine."

Bewildered at the volley of words that had just sailed his way, Harry simply stared at his dreaded Potions professor. Although Snape had spoken in circles, it seemed as though he'd just apologized to him.

He sat motionless for a few moments, and then he slowly set down his cup, stood up, walked over to one of the bookcases then leaned against it.

"Are you unwell, Mr. Potter?"

What's going on here? Harry wondered, bewildered. Why did he do that? He turned to face Snape. "Why would you apologize to me now, Professor?"

The apology had been difficult enough. To go into his reasons was not something Severus cared to pursue. "Things have changed," he offered with a slight tip of his head.

"What things? Not me, I'm the same person I've always been."

Harry's straightforward words cut through Severus' masquerade. There was no verbal dance to counteract sincerity. Now it was Severus' turn at bewilderment; again, something to which he was not accustomed. Being an accomplished spy, he excelled at ploys, facades and emotional manipulations. He found this entire business of emotional honesty alien, but avoiding it was fast becoming impossible.

On a personal level, Severus was determined to make amends, but beyond that lay a greater issue, that being the fate of humanity. Harry was one of if not the most powerful wizard alive, and he had been prophesied as being the only one capable of defeating the Dark Lord. But to survive Harry needed to learn Occlumency, and Severus was determined to teach it to him.

Even so, Severus was no fool. Occlumency and Legilimency were both perilous, yet delicate. To work with a student so powerful would create the distinct possibility of exposing private thoughts and experiences. His solution around this threat the previous semester had been to use the Pensive, but that had been a folly; he could see that now. No, to truly succeed Severus would have to set aside his safeguards and instead venture into that unfamiliar, dangerous realm of emotional honesty.

"No Mr. Potter, you haven't changed, but I have." Severus rose and walked over to the young wizard.

"I have been terribly unfair to you these past five years. I used you as a convenient scapegoat for my resentment toward your father, and other personal issues. I regret my actions and I wish to apologize to you. You have no cause to forgive me; to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if you chose not to do so."

Harry stared up at his professor. "I want to apologize to you too, Sir."

Severus actually started at Harry's unexpected response. "Whatever for?"

"That last lesson, when I broke into your mind, I didn't mean to do it. I've never told anyone what I saw, and I'm sorry it happened, and..."

Severus raised his hand. "I realize that was an accident." He paused, then lowered his hand and held it out toward Harry. "May we start anew, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked down at his professor's offered hand and thought about everything that had been happening to him lately: the magical surges, Helena helping him gain insight, Dumbledore and now Snape reaching out to him. It was as if his entire life was shifting to take a new course. He knew of the prophecy and of his awaiting destiny. Perhaps, all these things were coming together to help him achieve it.

Hardly believing he was doing this, he slowly raised his own hand and grasped that of Professor Snape's.

As he stared at their clasped hands, Harry nodded and whispered "Okay." Then he lifted his gaze, allowing his emerald eyes to drift up and look upon his Professor as if for the first time.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

9. Discoveries

The Fall season settled upon Hogwarts, bringing a chill to the air and shading the trees surrounding the castle in colors of amber and gold. The students had eased into a familiar routine of classes and homework, and the Quidditch season was about to get underway.

For Gryffindor, Harry's reinstatement to the team alone was cause for celebration; the inhabitants of the tower were filled with eager anticipation as the first match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin drew near. The pitch was in high demand; rarely was it seen without either full team workouts or individual athletes practicing high over its grassy surface.

It was Saturday morning, the last weekend in October. Ron had managed to get the morning slot and his team was now halfway into their three hour practice. Positioned all around the pitch, the Chasers and Beaters were executing drills and relays while high above them soared Harry. Anyone watching would have been impressed with his lighting speed and tricky maneuvers, but Harry knew that he was rusty. It had been a long time since he'd done any serious flying, not to mention having competed in only one, solitary game over the past two years. All the same, he was thrilled to be back on his broom and was determined to return to top form.

He already felt stronger, physically. In his first training period with Channon, the professor had suggested that Harry start jogging one lap around the lake, every morning before breakfast, claiming that it would help release his pent up stress. At first it had been a real struggle, dragging himself out of bed while all his dorm-mates snoozed away, but now he actually looked forward to these runs.

Additionally, Channon had began teaching Harry an ancient practice of tapping into nature’s energy, then drawing it in and moving it throughout the body. He was amazed the first time he had actually felt this energy and even though Harry was only just now familiarizing himself with this limitless natural energy, Channon knew that once this young, mighty wizard became proficient at combining nature's magic with that of his own, his powers would reach limitless bounds.

He would often join Harry on these runs, jogging out to the far end of the lake where they would go through the series of movements and then jog on back to the castle.  The physical release from the jogging combined with the settling benefits of those movements left him with a feeling of calm. Channon explained that this was the result of Harry “grounding” his own magic to that of the earths.  

The added boon from all this running was that Harry was getting really fit. This morning he'd been working on various maneuvers, practicing them over and over again as he tried to hone his technique. With less than one hour of practice time remaining, Harry decided to work on increasing his speed, but just as he leaned forward over his broom; his scar leveled a particularly painful stab which forced him to stop suddenly and slap a hand to his forehead. 

"You okay up there Harry?" asked Katie Bell.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he rasped. "It's just my stupid scar." Then he muttered under his breath, "Damn it, why can't he just leave me alone?" He’d barely finished the last word when his head started to ache suddenly. 

Determined not to let the pain end his practice prematurely, Harry leaned forward once more and took off across the pitch as he focused his attention on his speed and line of trajectory; he even tried implementing some of the techniques Channon had taught him. Immediately, the stinging and headache lessened and his speed increased phenomenally so that in a matter of seconds, he'd shot out past the boundaries of the pitch.

Amazed, Harry pulled up hard and turned around, but when he stopped focusing the burning sting and headache returned with a vengeance. 

"Oh no you don't," he gritted out.

Taking a deep breath, Harry headed back toward the pitch as he tried once again to concentrate on the natural energy around him, drawing it toward him and through him. Once again the pain subsided, and once again when he ceased his efforts — the pain returned.

Could this be the answer? he thought incredulously. This is so simple. 

Curious, Harry decided to try an experiment. He flew down to the ground and slid off his broom.  His headache by now had gotten so bad that he was on the verge of throwing up; but instead of succumbing to the pain, he focused all his concentration on all the natural energy surrounding him and mentally formed it into a shield around him.

Ron had seen Harry fly to the ground and then walk over to sit in the stand. Worried that something might be wrong, he flew down to join him. "You okay there, mate?"

Harry raised his hand, silently asking Ron to give him a moment. Maintaining this shield was requiring every bit of effort he could muster.  Shortly, the attack ended and Harry leaned back to rest against the bleacher behind him. His breaths were coming in pants as he stared out across the pitch with a look of amazement. "I don't believe it."

"Don’t believe what?  What are you on about?" Ron was really starting to worry. "Are you sure you're all right?" 

Stunned and amazed over his accomplishment, Harry turned to his old friend.  "I did it, Ron!  I finally did it!"

"Did what?" Ron was baffled. "What are you talking about?"

Harry jumped to his feet and then onto his broom. "I've got to go and tell him.”

But Ron lunged and grabbed the end of Harry’s broom before he could take off. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!”   

~~~~~

With Ron finally appeased, Harry flew up to the castle and reached the potions lab just as two second years were emerging out the door from an apparent detention. Slipping past the teary eyed youths, he quietly entered the room and saw Snape seated at his desk with his forehead resting upon the splayed fingertips of his outstretched hand.

"Merlin give me strength," Harry heard Snape mutter and he wondered dejectedly if this reaction played out after each of his Occlumency lessons.

They'd met half a dozen times since that first meeting when Snape had laid his cards on the table and asked for a truce. But despite the new methodology, Harry continued to struggle with Occlumency, its principle of barricading one's mind always seemed beyond his grasp. Much to his relief however, Snape had been surprisingly patient and had yet to insult him. Granted, the man was always sarcastic but Harry was beginning to appreciate the dry sense of humor.    

Snape lowered his hand, and then deftly hid his surprise at the sudden appearance of Harry, standing in front of him clad in full Quidditch garb. Raising one brow, he slowly eyed the young wizard up and down. "The Quidditch pitch is outside the castle, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled at the snip comment and his eyes all but sparkled with excitement over his news. "I did it, Sir." 

The little furrow between Severus's brows arrived on cue. "Did what, exactly?"

Despite a valiant effort, his response came out a bit shaky. "Occlumency." 

A few moments of silence followed Harry’s declaration, and then with a flick of his wand Severus slammed the door closed and erected a silencing ward. "Explain," he demanded. 

Harry told Snape all about the events that had taken place during practice. Then he explained how Professor Jackson had been teaching him about natural energy and that he had tried to visualize it into a shield to protect him from Voldemort's attack. "I know it sounds crazy, but it worked." He finished with a shrug of his shoulders.

Severus rose from his seat and crossed the room to where Harry stood, his robes swishing with every step. "You claim that instead of closing your mind, you called upon nature’s energy to form a shield around you?"

"I don't know if that's exactly what happened, but that's how it felt ... Sir."

The look Harry received from Snape was difficult to describe, but he was certain the professor was about to hex him. 

"Prepare yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"I wish to see for myself."

"Here?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Of course here. Why not here?"

"But there's no grass, or trees, or anything like that down here."

Up went the eyebrows. "Your method only works outside?"

"Uh, I don't know, Sir." He felt like a fool and thought he might be blushing. "I suppose I could give it a try."

Severus released a long, drawn out sigh then again gave the order for Harry to prepare himself.

"Wait!” Harry quickly put up his hand. “Just give me a second to get ready."

Although Harry's impertinence annoyed Severus to no end, he was beginning to find this foible just the tiniest bit endearing. He waited in silence, watching as Harry closed his eyes. After a few moments, he opened them. 

"Okay, I'm ready." Harry was staring straight ahead, trying as hard as he could to visualize the natural energy surrounding him.

Severus raised his wand. "Legilimens." His incantation was delivered gently and he used great care in trying to penetrate the young man's mind. Surprisingly, Harry was able to maintain his shield, marking the first time he'd accomplished this feat.

Severus ceased his efforts and lowered his wand. "Well done, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes grew wide as saucers. "I did it?"

Snape nodded his head slightly.

"I can't believe it. I did it! I really did it!"

 "I wouldn't rest my laurels just yet, Mr. Potter," he said cooly.

"What do you mean?"

“My endeavor was executed with minimal effort. We shall try it again only this time, I will use greater force.”

"Oh." Harry felt dejected. "Let me just get ready."

Snape began tapping his wand upon the palm of his hand as he waited for Harry. After receiving the go-ahead, he once again raised his wand and uttered the incantation.

Harry could feel Snape trying to get in; he focused as hard as he could, trying to maintain the shield. Once again his shield held; it was keeping Snape at bay. If he could just maintain it —  hang on for just a bit longer.

But then all of a sudden, Uncle Vernon was shouting at him, he started falling down the stairs, his aunt was screaming, then his head exploded with pain. 

~~~~~

"Harry?" Someone was tapping his cheek. "Wake up."

Harry opened his eyes and squinted at the sight that greeted him. Sitting directly in front of him was Snape with what appeared to be a look of concern on his face.

"What happened?" But before Snape could even reply, Harry remembered exactly what had happened and he dropped his head into the palm of his hand, mortified. "Oh God."

"Drink this, it will help."

Now it seemed as if Snape was touching his shoulder and he could smell something kind of woody and sweet. "What is it?" He asked with a raspy voice.

"Ginkgo tea infused with Jasmine."

Harry took a small sip and then leaned his head back against the chair.

“Take another sip.”

He tried sitting up a little straighter and took another sip. After a few moments and a few sips of the tea Harry was able to think more clearly. "I guess my shield didn't work after all."

Deciding Harry could now manage to hold onto the cup by himself, Severus handed it to him and then moved over to sit in the opposite chair.

When Harry had collapsed, Severus levitated the unconscious teen into his side room and placed him in one of the large upholstered chairs. Now, sitting across from him, Severus studied Harry from over the top of his peaked fingers as he took a few moments to gather his thoughts. 

"Your shield does not emanate from your surroundings. The barrier I encountered was generated from within you."

Harry was holding his cup with both hands, keeping it near to his face; it seemed as though even the aroma from the tea was helping to clear his mind. He'd noticed that Snape was calling him “Harry” but right now, he just couldn't seem to muster much of a reaction. Then, what Snape had just said finally registered in his foggy brain. “From inside me? How can that be? I've never been able to do that."

"Perhaps you have and didn't realize it as such. But you must understand, with true Occlumency the mind is protected from intrusion by means of focused thought. What you did was to create a barrier, a shield if you will, around your mind."

"You mean like a Shield Charm?"

"You did not cast a charm." Severus paused and thought about what it was he experienced. "I encountered a..." He took one hand and held it up flat in front of him, "... an actual force of some sort."  He lowered his hand. "You mentioned implementing a technique Professor Jackson taught you."

"Yeah, it’s some sort of ancient Oriental practice."

Dismissing the vague description, Severus reasoned what the correlation might be. "I will speak with Professor Jackson this evening regarding the matter." He noticed that Harry was sitting there, staring at him. “Keep drinking the tea.”

"Yes, sir," and he downed a few more sips of the tea.

Snape sat quietly pondering this phenomena while on the other hand, Harry started to think about what Snape had seen when he broke through the shield: his uncle — purple faced and full of rage, Harry being pushed down the stairs, his aunt screaming at the top of her lungs.

Now the tea didn't seem quite as soothing and in fact, the memories were making him feel downright nauseous. "Sir, I'm sorry you saw all of that."

Harry's words and tone of voice drew Severus from his musings. The young wizard was staring into the fire with his hand cupped over his mouth and chin. No doubt he was embarrassed at having his dirty laundry aired before his professor.

Severus thought about a similar event that had occurred in his youth.  He never allowed himself to reflect upon those troubling times, but the crushing look of embarrassment and shame on Harry's face drew this memory to the forefront of his mind. They sat watching the fire, lost in their own reflections of regret. Then in a soft voice, Severus uttered a beautiful lilting string of words. 

"L'ho provato sulla mia pella." *

Harry turned his gaze from the soft orange glow of the flames to the ebony eyes of his professor. Snape was looking straight at him; yet at the same time, he seemed to be looking far away and his typical hard set expression had been replaced by a look of sadness.

"What did you say, Professor?"

Harry's query pulled Severus from his melancholy. "Did you ask a question?"

"Sir, you said something ... but it was in some other language. I didn't understand what the words meant."

Snape nodded slightly and folded his arms across his chest, as if shielding his heart. "The words are Italian. They mean: “I have experienced that on my own skin."       

Harry didn't know if it was the fact that he still felt dazed or that Snape was calling him “Harry,” or maybe it was the tea, but nothing seemed to be making any sense. "I'm sorry sir, I still don't understand." 

Snape gave the smallest of chuckles but then he stopped suddenly and his face sagged with a gloomy expression. "It's a metaphor," he spoke in a downcast voice. "It means that I have also been scarred in this way and I know exactly what you're going through."  

~~~~~ 

It was now late in the afternoon. The Quidditch practices had finished for the day and the area around the pitch was blessedly quiet.

Harry had decided to walk back to the changing rooms rather than fly, feeling that he just needed some time to think. His thoughts kept whirling around what Snape had said, “I have also been scarred in this way.”

What did he mean by that? Harry wondered.  Had Snape's parents been abusive? Maybe that explains why he's the way he is. I wonder if he was beaten, like me. Could I turn out like him, angry at everything and everyone?

Harry shook his head at the prospect and paused by the large beech tree next to the building that housed the changing rooms. He stood there a few moments just staring at the grass. He opened up to me. Snape told me something personal about himself. He even called me Harry.

Baffled over this unbelievable event, Harry slowly resumed walking toward the small building and recalled how Snape had stood up abruptly moments after divulging this secret, stated that he needed to attend to another matter and then shooed Harry out of the room.

Completely absorbed in his thoughts, Harry went to grab a hold of the door knob but before he could open it, the door flung open and smacked him in the face, shoving his glasses hard into the bridge of his nose. 

"Ouch!"

"Merlin Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was there."

"Well, you shouldn't go flinging doors open like that." Harry didn't even know who he was talking to, as he'd removed his spectacles and was cupping his sore nose with his hand, his eyes squinted shut. "Damn it, I hate it when that happens."

"Here, let me take a look."

"It's fine."

"But you're bleeding."

Harry pulled his hand away and even though everything was a blur, he could see blood on his hand. "Oh great."

"Come on, let me take a look."

Lifting his head, he froze when he realized who this person was — Anthony Goldstein. Inches taller than Harry, Anthony had bent over to get a good look at the cut; their faces were now only inches apart.

"I think I could fix that."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, just hold still."  Raising his wand, he incanted "Episky," then tried to survey his handiwork. "I can't see anything for all this blood." He cast another charm to siphon off the blood and was now able to see where the cut had been. "That looks good; how does it feel?"

Harry gingerly touched the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, thanks." He went to put his glasses on only to discover that they were now bent. "God damn it."

"What?"

Exasperated, he pulled off the bent glasses. "It's a Muggle saying," he huffed. "Now what am I going to do?"

"Come on, you get changed and I'll fix your glasses; they’re just bent a little here in the middle."  Anthony led the nearsighted teen into the locker room and went about trying to repair the spectacles as Harry got changed out of his Quidditch robes. He’d only just pulled on his jeans when Anthony handed him the glasses.

"Give them a try now."

Harry put on his newly repaired spectacles and looked about the room, "I think you did it."

"Good," sighed Anthony. "Look, I'm really sorry." He watched as Harry pulled on a T- shirt and then sat down next to him.

"It was just as much my fault. I was thinking about some stuff and not paying attention to where I was going." He sighed and stared off across the empty room.   

"Something wrong?"

Chuckling, "When isn't something wrong."

Anthony placed a tentative hand on Harry's shoulder, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Harry didn't know what surprised him more, Anthony's hand on his shoulder or the fact that it felt kind of nice. "I can't." 

Withdrawing his hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." 

"I didn't mean it like that." Harry turned to face Anthony; the movement inadvertently caused his knee to push against the outside of Anthony's thigh. "I really wish I could ... you know, talk about it, but I can't."  Feeling awkward about what his knee was touching, he moved back his leg but then Anthony turned, so that now his knee was pressing against Harry's thigh.

"Well, if you ever do need someone to talk to, I'm ... available."

Harry sat staring at the Quidditch gear laden cubicles in front of him with that word 'available' ringing in his ears.

So much had happened in such a short period of time. The feeling of Anthony's knee pressing against him was unsettling, yet at the same time it felt reassuring. “Thanks Anthony," he answered softly.  Once again Harry's mind was whirling. In addition to all that had happened on the pitch that morning, then the Occlumency fiasco, Snape being nice to him and even sharing something that was obviously personal and private, calling him 'Harry' no less and now this encounter with Anthony —  Well, it was all a bit much to take in. 

"Come on, Harry.  It's time for dinner and you look like you could use a good meal."

The two teens strolled slowly back up to the castle. Harry shared a little bit about what he had learned from Jackson and how the Professor was helping him get a handle on his episodes of wild magic. They chatted about classes and the upcoming Quidditch matches. Talking to Anthony was so different from talking to Ron or Hermione, or any of his other friends. He'd never really spent time with Anthony but had often noticed him from a distance.

Anthony Goldstein reminded Harry of Cedric: tall, good looking, popular and he excelled in all his classes. Harry couldn't understand why someone like that would want to spend time with him. But he did know that as he walked next to him, Harry felt — something. Maybe it had to do with all that aura business Channon was always talking about and he wondered if one person's aura could connect with another person's aura. He'd ask Channon about it the next morning during their jog.

As they walked along, Anthony could sense Harry's preoccupation so he intentionally kept the conversation light. Truth was, ever since he'd acknowledged and had come to terms with his sexual preferences, he'd had an eye for this dark haired, green eyed wizard. So unlike himself, Harry had this spirited, dauntless quality and despite his impressive magical powers, there was a vulnerable side to him that Anthony found endearing. He'd wondered about Harry, never seeing him with any girlfriends except for that brief awkward fling with Cho. So with the serendipity of this afternoon's run in, Anthony had decided to test the waters and was optimistic by the outcome. Not sure where Harry was with his own self discovery, Anthony thought it best to take things slow.

"You know Harry; I was going to do some studying in the library tomorrow. Want to join me?"

Tomorrow being Sunday, Harry had planned to camp on the floor of the Gryffindor common room and try to plow through his mountain of homework. The prospect of Anthony and a quiet library sounded infinitely more appealing. "Sure. I have a ton of homework. What time do you want to get together?"

"How about just after breakfast?"

"Okay, sounds good." Harry wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt a bit giddy. They stopped just before reaching the doors to the Great Hall, out of sight to all those already inside eating dinner. Not sure how to handle things, Harry tentatively looked up toward those hazel eyes. 

Anthony smiled, "You go in first. I'll wait here a minute, then go in."

It had been so nice being near Anthony; Harry found he really didn't want to leave his side. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow." Then he turned and slipped into the hall.  

Anthony watched Harry disappear around the corner; then he smiled and whispered, "Bye, Harry."  

~~~~~

"Merlin, I hope the … bed doesn't give way."

"I don't pay you ... for conversation," Severus ground out as he slammed himself into the attractive young hooker beneath him.

"I'm not...ah... complaining, mind you. But..." Continuing after a moment, "What's gotten into ya?"

"Nor do I... pay you to ask... questions." Severus gripped tightly onto the sinuous arms of his prostitute, growling as he climaxed.

He had needed this release, needed some way of clearing away the sense of trepidation that had been building for days, a deep settled fear that his personal demons were trying to break free.

They were echoes of his past, personal traumas which he'd locked away deep in his soul. And though imprisoned, these scars inked their bitter presence upon the grown man via acerbity, distrust and a need for personal isolation.

It was his recent work with Harry that was causing the problem; this business of emotional honesty and the growing realization of their common turbulent childhoods was giving fodder to the rising dome of old-time foes.

He didn't want to face them, he couldn't. His age-old tactic of avoidance by doling out acrimony and insults upon those he encountered wasn't working, neither was brewing potions late into the night until he was ready to drop. He had nowhere else to go, and no one else to whom he could turn.

"Oh baby, you've been gone way too long. Why have you stayed away? I'm always here for you ... you know that."

Spent, Severus took a moment to catch his breath. "Don't call me ... baby." He slid off the bed.

"You're not leaving ... are you? Come on, you can have me the entire night."

Severus made his way the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face. He always wore a glamour when conducting such affairs and never divulged his name. "I cannot stay."

"In that case, as much as I love this scenario, I don't much care to stay bound if you're leaving."

Severus returned slowly back to the bed; taking his time, he fastened each and every button of his frock and robe — one by one and then finally raised his wand, "Finite."

Now free of the magical bonds, the hooker sat up and began rearranging the pillows. "You're a real charmer; you know that don't you?"

Severus moved toward the door and tossed the customary fee on the sideboard.

"Oh no baby, don't leave. We'll have a drink and then go at it again."

Annoyed at the endearment, Severus ground his teeth and grasped the door knob. He could easily justify staying here with this talented whore; the diversion would postpone his return to his empty quarters where reality would lay its trump card on the proverbial table. "I cannot stay," his voice was uncharacteristically shaky.

"When will I see you again?"

Without answering, Severus opened the door and quietly slipped out of the dingy room.

Leaning against the tiled wall of the shower, Harry melted under the spray of hot water, pummeling his aching shoulders and back. Methodically stroking himself, he took his time coming, hoping that the hot water and orgasm might help him unwind after another long day.

It was so late and he needed to get to bed for tomorrow's agenda would be just as full as this day's had been.

Reluctantly, he finished off and then quietly padded back to his dorm room. These late nights were occurring more and more frequently, the aftermath of evening trainings with either Channon or Snape. Upon his return to the tower, there would always be a pile of homework awaiting his attention. It wasn't unusual these days for Harry to fall into bed well after midnight.

All his dorm mates were sound asleep when he slipped into the room, and even though his body was tired from this evening's workout with Channon, his mind just wouldn't shut down.

He crawled onto the windowsill by his bed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass to stare out at the stars. He was frustrated with the inconsistencies of his spell work and Occlumency, not to mention the ongoing episodes of wild magic. Granted, the physical exercise was helping, but still out of nowhere, these enormous bursts of magic would surge from him.

Then his thoughts moved to Anthony. He couldn't stop thinking about him, about every ipart/i of him.

How did this happen?, Harry pondered for the umpteenth time, as to just when it was that he'd started preferring boys over girls. If he really thought about it, he supposed the first people he'd ever noticed were Cedric and Cho. She was pretty, but Cedric was so awesome: tall, good looking, confident. Harry could still remember the first time he had met Cedric, when they were all going to the Quidditch finals. That in turn caused Harry think about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, then the graveyard, Fifth year, Sirius.

Stop it! Stop it, stop it! he thought to himself. That's in the past, you can't change any of it.

Harry sighed, closed his eyes and tried to think about the present and about how everything was so different now: the change with Dumbledore and Snape, the new people in his life, Helena and Anthony. A little smile crept across his mouth and he touched his lips, thinking about their last time together.

It had happened only a couple of days ago when he and Anthony were on one of their walks. They'd been doing a lot of that the past couple of weeks: walking, talking and touching. Anthony wanted to know everything about Harry and Harry wanted to know everything about Anthony.

Then on Wednesday, just after Herbology, they'd decided to take a walk before heading up to the castle. When they passed the greenhouses, Anthony suddenly took Harry by the arm.

"Come here a minute."

No one was around as they slipped inside the potting shed.

Anthony gently pinned Harry against the wall; they pressed against each other and could feel each other's hard young torsos.

"Harry, I... could I..."

Harry solved Anthony's dilemma by stretching up, leaning in close and nodding his head ever so slightly.

With infinite care Anthony embraced and held Harry's lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and sweet. He didn't want to rush Harry, knowing that this was his first time with a boy. Then letting go, Anthony looked down just in time to see Harry's long lashes sweep upward.

They stood there looking into each other's eyes, holding each other, feeling each other's hardness. They started to kiss again, but this time the kiss deepened as Anthony pulled Harry up to him. Their strong arms wrapped around each other, holding their bodies close. This closeness quickly led to an urgency, a need to consume; but Anthony stopped the kiss and pulled back just enough so that only their lips touched. Harry looked up, not knowing why the kiss had stopped.

"Are you all right?" Anthony asked. He wanted to make sure that Harry was okay with all of this, and the desperate look in those emerald eyes told him that he was.

Closing his own, Anthony began to kiss Harry again — slowly. He took his time, gently kissing his way all around those pink lips; every so often he'd slip his tongue inside for a tantalizing brush.

Harry, having never French kissed before, had always been a little nervous about the whole idea, but what Anthony was doing with his tongue was soon driving Harry crazy. He found he wanted that tongue to stay longer. So the next time Anthony entered with his tongue, Harry welcomed it with his own— so Anthony stayed.

They began exploring each other's mouths and felt each other grow more hard. Amidst all this passion, Anthony managed to also tease and play with Harry, using the tip of his tongue to tickle here and caress there. The way Anthony varied the intensity of what they were doing: sometimes amazingly passionate and then lightening everything to be gentle and playful — it all made Harry feel relaxed and safe.

Anthony revved things up again and this time he didn't stop; they held each other as both climaxed quickly and when it ended, they leaned against the wall — absolutely spent.

"You okay there, Harry?"

"Yeah." He looked down. "Bit of a mess."

Anthony looked down and giggled. "Here, I'll take care of it." He quickly removed the evidence with a simple charm.

Harry was trying to think of some way to tell Anthony what he was feeling: how incredible that had been, how safe Anthony had made him feel, how he didn't know coming could feel like that — when, from out of nowhere, the sound of Professor Sprout's voice cut the air.

"I have them right here for you Severus." She was clunking along the wooden floor of the forth greenhouse.

"Cut them myself for you just this morning."

The sound of her heavy steps was now followed by ones that were softer and evenly timed.

"Let's see now, where did I put them?"

The two petrified teens heard more clunking steps, a pause and then some more.

"Oh, now I remember ... I put them in the potting shed for safe-keeping."

Stunned, Anthony and Harry's dreamy state disappeared and became one of sheer panic. They looked at each other and simultaneously, silently mouthed the words — Oh fuck!

Harry grabbed Anthony's hand and dragged him post haste to behind the shed door and stood flat against the wall.

The matronly witch gave the door a shove as she entered the shed. Anthony grabbed the handle when the door bounced against them and then held it in place.

"Oh yes, here they are. A particularly fine crop we had this year."

Then they heard the sound of Snape stepping up to the doorway.

By now, Harry had shifted into whatever it could be called, his own version of Occlumency. Taking steady breaths, he closed his eyes and gently formed his shield. Snape was so accustomed to entering Harry's mind now; he feared that just being in the vicinity of the professor would be enough to alert him of his presence.

"See Severus, they're absolutely magnificent."

"We are discussing Abyssinian Shrivelfigs, are we not Pamona?"

"Yes, but Severus — just look at them."

"Ah yes," he placated the old witch, "truly stupendous."

Their hearts pounding full boar, the two teens listened as professors Sprout and Snape walked back into the greenhouse. Not daring to move a muscle, they waited and listened as the voices and footsteps move off and all became silent.

Slowly, Anthony and Harry crept out from their hiding place and cautiously peered around the corner. The greenhouse was indeed empty; the door leading outside was closed and they were once again alone.

They fell against each other and then broke out in laughter.

"Oh my God," Anthony had started using some of Harry's Muggle phrases, "I can't believe that happened."

"I can't believe we didn't get caught," added Harry. "My shield thing must really be getting better. I thought for sure we were goners."

"What do you mean — goners? What does that mean? Really Harry, you're dead cute, but you do speak a different language."

"Come on, we better get back. I'll explain it on the way."

Harry smiled and sighed. Feeling infinitely content, he knew he'd be able to sleep now. He was just about to slide off the sill and go to bed when a movement outside caught his eye.

Someone had just passed though the front gates and was now walking across the wide expanse of lawn leading up to the castle.

It's Snape, Harry realized. What's he doing out there so late. I wonder if he was summoned. But my scar didn't hurt tonight ...

Harry thought as fast as his tired mind would permit, Could Voldemort be back?

He had half a notion of running down to ask his professor what was going on, but then thought the wiser. He watched as Snape ascended the steps and then disappeared through the front doors.

Sliding off the sill, Harry tip-toed over to his bed, crawled under the covers and let his head sink onto the pillow. With thoughts of kissing Anthony and wondering where Snape had been, Harry closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

The commotion of the breakfast hour echoed throughout the Great Hall with sounds of cutlery against plates, students and teachers chatting and the scraping of benches against stone.

Harry sat munching a piece of buttered toast while reading his textbook: Negative Magic for Positive Means. Ensconced in his book, he'd managed to drown out the din around him, until the misplaced sound of subtle voices caught his attention.

Sliding his gaze up from the text, he saw Hermione intently surveying a tear in the sleeve of Ron's robe, but it was the iway/i she was doing it that held his attention, for she had one hand resting on Ron's forearm, while she inspected meticulously the loose threads of the hole with the other, allowing her fingers to occasionally slip below the level of the fabric.

As Harry watched the pair inspect the intricacies of this hole in Ron's sleeve, he started thinking about Anthony and all the touching they'd been doing lately. He drew a sudden deep breath and looked about the room, trying to chase away the heady thoughts.

Just then, the post owls flew into the hall.

Thank Merlin,thought Harry as he sighed and poured himself a rare cup of coffee.

Only moments later, sounds of shock and concern began to fill the hall. Hermione had only just begun to scan the first page of the Prophet when she gasped, "Oh no!"

"What?" asked Ron and Harry simultaneously.

"An orphanage in London collapsed. Everyone in the building ..." She laid the newspaper down and stared straight ahead.

"Hermione! Tell us what's happened!"

She looked at them with an expression of shock and sadness. "Everyone in the building ... they all died."

"Let me see that." Ron grabbed the paper and began to read aloud; everyone in the vicinity listened as he read the horrible news.

Harry snapped his attention to the Head Table to see who was present and who was not. Dumbledore, Channon and Snape were all missing. The memory of Snape returning to the castle late last night suddenly flashed through his mind.

I wonder if Voldemort had something to do with that orphanage collapsing?

With all this commotion, Harry hadn't noticed the rather small Tawny that had swooped down in front of him.

When he turned back, he saw a letter sitting atop his toast and actually startled when he read the name of the sender.

Everyone around him was still focused on Ron as he read the article, so Harry was able to discreetly slide the post into his book bag unobserved.

He sat back up and urgently scanned the Ravenclaw table for Anthony. There he was, doing the same thing as Ron. His housemates were crowded around him, listening as he read the distressing article.

Then it started — that sort of panicky feeling. He'd come to learn that this always preceded one of his bursts of magic; just to know it was about to happen, when he was around so many people, was enough to make him panic even further. He had to leave the hall and he had to leave it i now, /i before his wild magic got away from him.

"I'll catch up with you later," he quickly said to Hermione. She acknowledged his words with a quick nod and then returned her focus to the article about the orphanage.

Snatching up his bag, he quickly exited the Great Hall but paused just outside the doors.

Outside? Inside?

Deciding there would be less of a chance to encounter or affect anyone outside, he exited the castle and quickly crossed the courtyard.

Ducking behind a massive Yew, Harry dropped his bag to the ground and then grabbed onto two of the thick branches. There was no way to stop the surge from happening, but he could at least try to lessen its intensity. He began drawing deep, steady breaths and mentally visualized grounding himself to the earth.

An intense prickling sensation swept through his entire body. The surge lasted only seconds and when it subsided, Harry was left completely winded. He leaned against the thick conifer and tried to catch his breath. Looking around, he realized that the huge plant was covered with light green, new growth and that the grass all around him was inches taller.

The chimes sounded, indicating the start of classes. Even though he was still shaky and winded, he had no choice. Reaching down for his book bag, he slung it over his shoulder and headed wearily back into the castle.

Severus turned his head so that his hair fell forward, curtaining his demanding yawn.

The predawn summons from Albus had been particularly jarring; coming on the heels of his late night tryst, Severus had only managed to get a couple hours of sleep. Now well past sunrise, he and select members of the Order were still in the Headmaster's office discussing the collapse of the orphanage in London.

The fact that this orphanage was the same one where Tom Riddle was born and spent his early childhood had warranted this emergency meeting of the Order.

With his position as liaison between the Ministry and the Muggle British authorities, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been one of the first wizards on the scene and had immediately requested Auror backup. Only having just arrived from the devastating scene, he immediately gave his report.

"You are quite certain?" asked Albus.

Kingsley's cello voice rumbled through the room. "Yes Dumbledore. We searched the entire area for evidence of Death Eater activity and found nothing."

The old wizard looked to Severus once again. "And you felt nothing?"

"Do you think I am withholding information?" he asked sharply.

"Of course not, Severus."

"I would have noticed if the mark had burned." Severus was definitely out of sorts this morning.

"Exactly, my old friend. That is why I am concerned..."

"So am I," interrupted the spy. "Either this disaster was a coincidence, or the Dark Lord has discovered my true allegiance."

"The Muggles believe the explosion and collapse of the building resulted from a build up of gas in the pipes. It was an old building..." Arthur continued to relay the mechanics of such a possibility when a slight tremor occurred. It lasted only seconds and went unnoticed by most of the wizards and witches in attendance, all except for Albus, Severus and Channon.

The three men immediately recognized the signature of this disturbance and exchanged concerned glances.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Arthur."

Surprised, the redhead stopped mid-sentence. "Yes, Albus?"

"Classes are about to begin." He turned to face Severus and Channon. "Gentlemen?"

Taking their cue, the two wizards left the office to go check on Harry.

"It didn't feel as if he was inside the castle," commented Channon.

They had reached the bottom of the spiral staircase just as the chime sounded for classes.

"We really do need to set up a means of keeping track of him; perhaps if Dumbledore assigned all the portraits to keep an eye out for him. Really Severus, how else can we know if he's been injured or some damage has occurred?"

"There is already a way of knowing." Severus stopped where he was and called out, "Dobby."

"What?"

"Not what, but who."

Just then, the small house-elf apparated before the two professors.

"Yes professor, Dobby is here." He was so short and they were so tall, he only managed to reach the height of their knees.

"Where is Mr. Potter?"

"Oh sir, Dobby is seeing Harry Potter out by the front courtyard, but when Dobby is coming to see you, Harry Potter is coming back inside."

"Was there any damage?"

Dobby quirked his face as he tried to decide if tall grass and an old shrub growing inches was considered damage.

"Was he injured?" asked Channon.

Again, Dobby quirked his face.

"Was Harry injured?" Severus repeated Channon's question with more urgency.

"Oh sir, Dobby is thinking that Harry Potter is very white."

Channon stared at Dobby, not sure what to make of him.

"That will be all," Severus dismissed the elf whom in turn disappeared immediately.

The sound of hundreds of students ascending the stairs drifted up to their location on the seventh floor.

"White?" Channon asked.

"I would assume he meant pale."

"I have sixth year Defense now. I'll go check on him." Channon made to hurry down the steps, but paused and turned back. "What's your gut feeling about last night?"

Severus glanced down at the sea of rising students; they were still at least two floors below. "You heard Shacklebolt. If it was the Dark Lord, he acted alone. I will only know for certain once I have been summoned."

Channon shook his head. "I don't know how you do it, Severus."

Severus didn't reply, but only nodded his head in acknowledgement. "We'd best be getting to our students."

Hermione walked toward the very back of the library. Looking around the last bookcase, she saw Anthony sitting at the usual table in the corner but was surprised to see that he was alone.

"He's not here?" she whispered.

Anthony shrugged his shoulders. "Nope."

She sat down next to him and spoke in a soft voice, so as not to be heard. "I thought he'd be here with you."

"He's been acting weird all day," Anthony replied, laying down his book. "Hermione, do you know if maybe he knew someone at that orphanage?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm certain he didn't."

Just then, he walked up from behind and touched them both on the shoulders.

"Harry! Where have you been?"

"Budge over."

Hermione moved over to make room and Harry sat down between them.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked while covertly taking hold of Anthony's hand under the table.

"Remember, he has that detention with Madame Hooch," she responded in a huff. "Merlin's sake, why can't he learn to control himself."

"Oh yeah," Harry did indeed remember the crude gesture Ron gave to one of Ravenclaw's Beaters during their last game.

"Anyway, what's going on?" she continued.

Harry reached into his bag, pulled out the letter and tossed it onto the table. Hermione grabbed for it and began to read as Harry leaned into Anthony and whispered in his ear, "It's a long story I haven't told you yet."

Anthony pressed his cheek gently against Harry's."Are you okay?"

He could feel Harry shake his head — no.

Hermione gasped. "Oh that ... how can he be so ... impersonal?"

"May I read it?" asked Anthony, his calm voice was a stark contrast to Hermione's hissing tone.

Anthony held Harry's hand tightly as he began to read.

Dear Harry,

My apologies for not having written sooner. I've been busy with duties for the Old Crowd. I can't say much about that, but I was curious how you were doing after the events of last June. I know all of that must have been hard on you, and I hope you have been able to put it behind you.

I'll be coming to Hogwarts soon and hope to meet with you so that we can talk.

My sincerest wishes for a successful school year,

Remus

Anthony turned to look at his friend. Harry was staring at the table; the expression on his face was as hard as that of the wood.

"Hermione, would you excuse us?"

"Sure." She leaned over and gave Harry a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you two later."

After she left, Anthony whispered in Harry's ear, "Can you tell me about this business with Remus?"

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, but not here."

"No, not here. Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to hold you for a while, then you can tell me when you're ready."

Severus's quill flew down the right side of the parchment leaving a trail of red colored comments in its wake. Assigning a grade of 'T' at the top, he set the test aside and started on the next.

He was nearly at his wit's end. There were piles of tests and assignments to grade; he'd been preoccupied all day with the collapse of the orphanage, adding to that the ongoing self-reprimands for his escapade the previous night and to top it all off — he had another session with Harry in just a few minutes.

He was about to cast a Tempus when he heard a knock at his door.

"Come," he snapped.

Harry startled at the tone of Snape's voice. iOh, oh./i Opening the door, he hesitantly entered the office.

"Put your things down, Mr. Potter," Snape ordered without looking up from the test he was now correcting, "then take a stand in the middle of the room."

Harry was either Harry or Mr. Potter, according to what kind of mood Snape was in. Harry hadn't brought anything with him, so he just moved forward to the middle of the room and stood as quietly as possible. He'd wanted to ask Snape if he knew anything about the orphanage, but decided that wouldn't be wise — considering the mood he was in.

Scribbling the grade at the top of the test with a particular flourish, Snape set it aside and tossed his quill onto the desk. Taking a moment, he tried to settle himself. It wouldn't benefit either of them if he started venting his current frustrations on Harry.

He stood up, moved around to the front of his desk and then drew his wand. "Are you ready?"

I must be nuts, Harry thought, but here it goes."Sir?"

"What."

"Sir, do you know if Voldemort is back?"

"Don't say his name!"

"Sorry, sir."

"Why are you asking?"

"I just thought that since you came back so late last night, that maybe ..."

Severus almost had a coronary. "What I do and where I go are none of your concern, Potter."

Harry really knew he'd done it that time. He hadn't been just Potter all term.

"I don't have much time tonight. Have you been practicing your shield?"

Immediately, the incident in the potting shed flashed through his mind. "Uh, yes sir."

"Very well, let's proceed."

Severus raised his wand, but before he could say the incantation the Dark Mark erupted with a burning pain so severe that he pulled his arm in tight and doubled over.

"Sir!" Harry rushed to Snape's side, trying to help him stay upright.

"I don't need your help, Potter," he snapped.

"Sir, what's wrong? Shall I get Madame Pomfrey?"

Snape stood there agape, staring at Harry in amazement. "Get out of my way. I have to go."

"Sir?" Harry was at a loss as to understand what was happening. He'd never seen what Snape went through when he was summoned.

"I said, get out of my way. I cannot be late."

The reality of what was happening struck Harry like a sledge hammer. "Oh no, Sir, don't go. Please don't go. I've seen what happens when he calls you. Please don't go."

Severus couldn't understand Harry's concern. No one had ever worried about him or cared for his welfare. "I have to go; this is my job." He struggled to stand upright and then moved toward the door.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

Snape was exiting the room as he spoke. "Get my cloak; it's over there," he said nodding toward the closet. He was halfway down the corridor by the time Harry caught up to him.

Harry tried as best he could to get the cloak over Snape's shoulders, as he wouldn't stop walking.

"Now, go tell Dumbledore what has happened," Snape ordered as he struggled up the stairs. He couldn't believe how severely the mark was burning; it had never been this bad. Then he realized that Harry was actually holding onto him, helping him up the stairs. Well, he'd have to reprimand him for touching a professor later, when time permitted.

"Tell him, I'll report in as soon as I return."

When they reached the top of the stairs, they saw a couple of students filtering across the entry hall.

Snape looked down at Harry and shook his head no, so Harry let go and stepped away. Those green eyes looking back up at him were full of worry and concern.

"I'll be all right. Now go and tell the Headmaster what has happened." He nodded toward the Great Staircase.

But Harry held his ground and silently mouthed the words, Please don't go.

All this genuine concern that Harry was lavishing on him was not what Severus needed at this point in time. He was on his way to meet with the Dark Lord and he needed to stay focused and impassive. Closing himself off, he leveled a hard stare down at the worried teen and whispered, "Go, now."

With great reluctance Harry slowly crossed the entry hall and then ascended the staircase. About halfway up, he paused and turned around just in time to see Snape exit the castle.

11. The Return
 

Severus guarded his arm tightly to him as he stoically made his way towards the front gates of the castle; the memory of Harry's worried green eyes haunted his every step.  Knowing the summons would direct him to the waiting Dark Lord, he pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, walked beyond the wards and Apparated away from Hogwarts.

He arrived in the center of a large foyer in what was probably a manor. Noting the ample use of marble and intricate woodwork, it was apparent that this place had been a grand place in its day; but the current lack of repair and stagnant air spoke of dormancy, as though this building had stood empty for a long time. 

Severus was greeted, for lack of a better word, by Peter Pettigrew and was directed to his left where he quietly slipped through the doorway and entered a drawing room of vast proportions; it was empty save for a dais with an ornately carved gilded chair placed in its center upon which sat the Dark Lord. 

Amazingly, only a handful of other Death Eaters had already arrived; they were all on their knees with their heads bowed, facing in the direction of their Lord. Severus bowed deeply and then fell into ranks along with the others. When all had arrived, Voldemort stood to begin his address.

The speech was reminiscent of the one he had delivered at the graveyard in Little Hangleton two years previous. He offered no details about where he had been the past few months but he did share an overview of his current ambitions, after which he began holding private conversations with each of the higher ranking officers.

They were instructed to wait in the main drawing room until their mark burned, at which time they would report to the sitting room where these councils were being held. It was well past midnight; Severus had watched as all the others were summoned and was now the last one remaining. Finally, his mark burned.

Upon entering the room he glanced only high enough to get his bearings. 

"Come in Severus."

Keeping his head bowed and his Occlumency in high gear, Severus entered the room and sank to his knees before the Dark Lord.

"My Lord."

Severus was the epitome of supplication as he listened to Voldemort offer a few kind remarks and then request updates regarding the activities of the Order and of Dumbledore.

The spy had only tidbits of information to deliver, as things had been fairly quiet — up until the previous night with the bombing of the orphanage. He relayed how the Ministry had sent officials to investigate the scene but that they had found no evidence of Death Eater involvement and had determined that the collapse had been an unfortunate accident.

Severus, who was still staring at the carpet, could not see the Dark Lord’s reaction to any of this news.

"Very good,” Voldemort strolled about the room. “And now my dear Severus, tell me of … Harry Potter.

"I can report my Lord, that the boy has been recently experiencing magical surges."

Voldemort actually gasped. "He has? Very interesting … Very interesting indeed."

Severus heard the Dark Lord’s steps come nearer as he approached the dais.

"And what is Dumbledore doing about these … surges."

Having not heard the Dark Lord speak in many months, Severus took note of the manner in which he caressed each word, inflecting his voice up and down as he traveled across a sentence, always lingering upon any word that ended in an s.

Severus relayed the identity of one Channon Jackson and how Dumbledore had brought him to Hogwarts with the express purpose of working with Potter. He also added the fact that the Chosen One and the new professor had developed a friendship.

"Oh this is delicious. I knew I wanted you last, Severus. You are always the icing on my cake."

Voldemort then gave the potion master his assignment to start brewing fresh batches of potions, elixirs and draughts, and to immediately relay any and all occurrences of import having to do with Dumbledore, the Order and of course — Harry Potter. 

"Yes, my Lord."

"Speaking of whom, how has Harry's health been this year?"

"His health, my Lord?"

"Yes, his health."

It was times like this that Severus's quick mind was put to the test.  He knew the Dark Lord was fishing and that he had to deliver. The challenge was to provide just enough information to satisfy, but withhold that which could prove dangerous. He had to do all of this whilst he Occluded before one of, if not the most highly skilled Legilimens.

"Except for the times my Lord engages the boy; he is otherwise in good health."

"Tell me exactly what happens when I…engage him."

"He experiences headaches and discomfort around the area of his scar."

"Hmmm." 

Now Severus heard the rustle of robes as the Dark Lord resumed his seat.

"One more item before I dismiss you."

Severus waited in silence.

Will the school be holding their traditional Halloween feast this Saturday?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And Dumbledore will be there?"

"Yes, my Lord?" Severus's acknowledgement sounded more like a question.

"I must admit Severus, you are the last one this evening to receive my news. I am planning some exciting events to take place on Samhain."

Voldemort walked over to stand before the spy and placed one finger under Severus's chin, encouraging him to look up.

The Dark Lord spoke softly and slowly.

"I have a special task for you. Tell that old fool for me; tell him to post Aurors wherever he thinks I might strike. Also, tell him that I am planning a surprise ... just for him. Then, at the feast on Samhain, you will watch him so that you can later tell me of his reaction."

"His reaction to what, my Lord?"

"Oh but Severus, if I told you … it wouldn't be a surprise."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry sat in the windowsill by his bed, waiting and watching for Snape's return. Still at his post, he wound up falling asleep around two o'clock and woke up the next morning with an aching back. 

Severus had returned from his meeting with Voldemort relatively unscathed, all except for his sore knees, and immediately met with Dumbledore to relay the Dark Lord’s message. 

The old wizard knew immediately that his former pupil was toying with him, but what could he do other than to play along?

He contacted the Ministry and the Order, warning them that Voldemort was planning attacks on Samhain. Not knowing where he would strike, all that could be done was to have every Auror and member of the Order on alert, ready to respond at a moment's notice.  But Voldemort's talk of a surprise and his request that Severus watch Dumbledore had him puzzled.  

~~~~~SH~~~~~

On the eve of Halloween, Anthony was conducting his Prefect's rounds and had timed his route so that he could intercept Harry coming up from his Occlumency lesson. 

His friend had been quiet and pensive the last couple of days and Anthony was determined to find out what was wrong. 

Reaching the sixth floor, Harry had just made the turn to start up the next flight of stairs when Anthony stepped out from a nearby alcove, waving the young wizard over to him.

Surprised and delighted, Harry looked about to make certain no one was around and then hurried over to his boyfriend.

"Where did you come from?"

"I was just doing my rounds."

"But I thought Padma did rounds on Friday night," Harry said with a teasing lilt to his voice as he saddled up close and began to kiss Anthony all along his jaw line.

"I traded with her," he said distractedly. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Forget talking … this is much better," Harry whispered and then began kissing along the contours of Anthony's ear.

"Harry, stop doing..."  

His sentence trailed off when Harry reached little soft spot of skin, right behind Anthony's left ear. 

Anthony determinately yet gently pushed Harry away; his face came into view with a crestfallen expression upon it. 

"God, you're cute."

"So kiss me."

"No." Anthony did however give Harry one quick kiss of apology. "I want you to tell me why you've been so down the last couple of days."

Talk about ruining the mood — Harry's whole being seemed to sink in an instant and he stepped over to lean against the wall. "It's because of tomorrow," he said whilst looking down at his shoes.

Anthony cupped Harry's chin, trying to get him to look up at him. "So, what's happening tomorrow?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Anthony," he said in a drawn out voice. "Tomorrow is Samhain; it's the day Voldemort killed my parents and gave me this." He quickly touched his scar.

Anthony froze for only a second and then pulled Harry tightly to him. "Merlin, I'm so sorry. How could I have been so dense?" 

Harry didn't say anything.

Anthony continued the embrace. "Listen, we'll spend all of tomorrow with each other."

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. “First off, you don’t have to apologize.” His voice was muffled against Anthony’s chest. “I really want to spend tomorrow with you; I just have Quidditch practice in the morning, but I'm free after that."

"Hold on — I have a Prefect meeting at one o'clock, and then I'm leading an Arithmancy tutoring session at three.” He sighed with frustration, “Damn." 

"Don't worry about it. I'll be okay."

"No wait, I have an idea. We'll slip away early from the feast." He loosened his embrace just enough so that they could look at each other. “I know your parents died at night,” he paused and kissed Harry gently on his cheek. “So I'll stay with you. I'll stay with you all night."

It was a moment before Harry could respond. Then he reached up and whispered in Anthony's ear. "Thanks for caring about me."

Anthony whispered back, "I don't just care about you, Harry." He gazed into those beautiful green eyes, "I love you."

That was the first time Harry could ever remember anyone saying that to him, and he knew in an instant that he felt the exact same way.

"I love you, too."

Then they began to kiss.

Anthony never did finish his rounds that night.

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

The first attack came the first hour of Samhain with the British embassy in France; it collapsed the same way the orphanage had in London. The ambassador, his family, the staff and two visiting dignitaries all died.  The second attack occurred the second hour of Samhain.  This time it was the French Embassy in Britain. These attacks continued throughout the day, one each hour, all to Embassies, all in different countries, each one resulting in fatalities and destruction.   

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Dumbledore stepped gracefully from his Floo.

"What is the report, Albus?" asked Minerva as she stood to vacate his desk chair. As Deputy Headmistress, she'd been keeping an eye on things while he'd been at the Ministry that afternoon. 

Dumbledore shook his head as he sank wearily into his chair; it had been a trying day.

"Not good, I'm afraid." He looked to his long-time friend. "I greatly fear the ramifications of this day. The loss of so many ambassadors and diplomats will undoubtedly have wide-spread consequences." 

"Those poor Muggles." 

"Oh Minerva," the tone of his voice reflected his surprise at her elitist attitude. "The events of this day will affect us as well. The ramifications of today presents numerous opportunities for Voldemort's advancement, as undoubtedly these losses will put a diplomatic and possibly an economic strain on the countries involved."  

"But Albus, surely ...”

Speaking over her, "We haven't the manpower or the necessary time to establish relations with these different countries."

"Don't you think you might be over-reacting?"

"Over-reacting?" He repeated her words as he stood up, placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward as he continued in an emphatic tone.  "We've been fools, Minerva! Can't you see that? We live in this myopic bubble, barely concerning ourselves with the greater world around us!"

She stood to face him, her Scottish brogue lending a bite to her words, "We have enough to deal with! What the Muggles do..."

"What the Muggles do could very well affect our lives!  What if Voldemort keeps up with these attacks?"

She cringed when he said the name.

"What if he starts killing the Muggle leaders? What if the Muggles start warring upon each other? Can't you see how that would affect us?" He had to stop a moment to take a breath, as he'd gotten himself worked into a state. 

 "Albus, please sit down; let me get you a cup of..."

He continued as if she hadn't said a word. "We have only one liaison! In all this time, we've managed to establish relations with only one Muggle country."

A forlorn expression fell upon his face. "We haven't the time to catch up with him; he acted so quickly."

Then he looked out the window and continued in a quiet voice, as if speaking to himself. "Now I know Tom; I know what you've been doing all these many months — you've been planning."  He released a small chuckle. "You always were the smart one, and we have been the fools." 

In all the time she'd known him, Minerva had never seen Dumbledore so distressed. 

"Albus," at this point, she was hesitant to even interrupt him again. "Do you think we should cancel tonight's feast, in light of what has happened?" 

The old wizard reached out and stroked his Familiar and Fawkes offered a soft and beautiful trill in response. "Oh Minerva, the children love this feast. How can we deprive them the happiness of their youth?" 

"All right then," she sighed. "I'll tell the elves to get on with the preparations."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

And prepare they did.  The elves jumped into high gear: preparing special dishes and desserts for that evening's feast, decorating the Great Hall with floating Jack-O-Lanterns — they even conjured a Banshee to fly around the hall on her broom to swoop down every so often and toss candies to the younger children.   

All through the celebration, Anthony sat and watched Harry over at the Gryffindor table. It had been a frustrating day, knowing what Harry was going through but not able to be with him. 

Deciding they'd waited long enough, Anthony surreptitiously took his wand and quietly incanted "Wingardium Leviosa" to levitate a piece of candy over to Harry's plate of untouched food.

Harry stared momentarily at the candy that had just landed on his roast beef, then he looked over to Anthony who nodded his head in the direction of the side door and silently mouthed the words, Let's go.

Harry nodded and amidst the chatter and activity in the Hall, the two managed to discreetly slip out unnoticed to all except but one.

The Headmaster noticed the two young wizards exit as he sat and pondered the calamities of the day. In fact, it had been the main topic of conversation that evening for nearly everyone at the Head Table and the majority of the older students.

A House elf appeared next to Dumbledore and handed him a note.

He knew right away what this would be and took the missive with a sense of forebode. Unfolding the bit of parchment, he read—

Shacklebolt to Dumbledore,

Building collapse reported at 20:45 BST

Structure: Town Hall

Casualties: None. Building vacant at time of collapse

Location: Little Whinging, Surrey 

His breath froze in his chest as he read those last three words; he looked up with a chill of fear and stared out over the sea of students before him. "It's Harry," he whispered to himself. "The surprise is Harry."

Dumbledore turned to his right. "Minerva, get Poppy." Then he rose quickly from his chair and beckoned for Severus and Channon to follow him.

They moved swiftly to the side door where he'd seen Harry exit. Now, out of sight of the other students, they ran full bore across the side chamber and out through the open French doors.

When the three wizards reached the Rose Garden, the sight that greeted them stopped them in their tracks. 

Anthony was sprawled on the ground, blood was running from his eyes, nose and ears. Harry was motionless, suspended in the air with his arms out-stretched. An iridescent green light swirled around him as if he were encased in a shimmering green eggshell.

Dumbledore and Severus started for him but Channon called out, "No! You can't go near him."

The three men watched helplessly, desperate to do something. 

"We could try erecting a ward around him," suggested Channon. 

"There are already wards around the castle, obviously they are ineffective against whatever this is," responded Dumbledore.

Just then, Harry let out a prolonged scream. "Noooooo!"

Severus stepped forward, "I'm going to try and help him Occlude."

"No, it's too dangerous," warned Dumbledore.

Severus turned back and snapped at the old wizard, "What choice do we have. If we don't help him — he'll die."

There was no contradicting his words. 

"He’s right," added Channon.

“I am replaceable Albus,” said Severus. “Harry is not.”

The old wizard looked at his longtime friend and shook his head in defeat. “Please, be careful.”

Severus turned and approached cautiously. When he reached the perimeter of the shimmering field, he closed his eyes and began to Occlude, then stretched his efforts outward to include Harry. Suddenly he was bombarded with images, sucked in to witness a battle of memories. 

Then suddenly, Severus was watching a different set of images.

Now he was back in Harry's memories.

Voldemort again.

Back to Harry, but now these images were of a different nature: they were memories embraced with love.

All of a sudden, the shimmering green shield surrounding Harry exploded and shot out in all directions, the force of which knocked both Channon and Albus to the ground and hurled Severus backwards through the air. Harry fell to the ground and layed limply in a heap.  

Channon came to his senses. “Albus, are you all right?” He reached over and helped the old wizard to a sitting position.

“Yes, I believe so.” He looked over and gasped at the sight of the victims sprawled upon the ground.

Just then, Poppy and Minerva came upon the scene. “What happened?” One of them called out.

“See to the boys,” Dumbledore ordered. “Channon, go help them … I’ll check on Severus.”

Severus was laying flat on his back, staring up at the star filled night-sky. He saw several people run by in the periphery and then the next thing he knew a familiar face was hovering over him. It was Albus and he was speaking to him, but Severus couldn’t hear what he was saying.  

Engulfed in silence, Severus felt completely detached from the activity around him. He began to lose consciousness and as he did, the emotion from that last memory — the feeling of Harry’s love, came and wrapped itself all around Severus. It stayed with him as he sank into the blackness and held him tightly in its secure embrace. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

He was floating in a sea of black; it was blessedly silent and he felt at peace.

But he wasn’t alone, something had come with him; it had followed him in and then wrapped itself around him like a thick, soft cocoon. 

He heard a noise. It was very faint, yet even still — the noise was too much to bear, so he drifted away from it.

Eventually, his sense of awareness reached beyond the loving warmth of his cocoon and when he heard that faint noise again he was able to identify it as a voice. Someone was talking to him. 

He wanted to sink back into the cocoon of love. It was familiar to him now and he didn’t want to leave it — he didn’t want it to leave him.

“Severus, wake up. I’m here waiting for you. Please wake up.”

As the voice and his awareness grew stronger, they began to pull him away from the darkness and away from his quiet place until finally he opened his eyes.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

A heavy fog had settled over the London area just after Samhain and for three days now it entombed the city in a gray blanket of wet.

Bellatrix Lestrange pulled her cape tightly to her, trying to ward off the permeating cold as she walked briskly along the cobblestone road of Knockturn Alley.

She glanced up briefly at the falling minute droplets and sneered. “I hate fog,” she grumbled, just before she yanked open the door to Skulkin Bar, slipped inside and surveyed the room with an intimidating scowl.

The patrons looked up when she entered but immediately returned their attention to their drinks as soon as they realized who it was. They all knew Bella, and knew best not to draw her attention. They came for the cheap liquor and the dark atmosphere. It was not a place for social drinking, but of private drinking for those who didn’t really have anything better to do.

She flipped the cape from off her shoulders, allowing it to drape down her back. Still scanning the room, almost daring anyone to look her in the eye, she pulled her long black hair out from under the fabric and ran her fingers through it trying to offset the effects of the heavy mist.

“Whiskey soda,” she barked and then waited impatiently for the bartender to hand the drink to her. She then strode confidently across the bar and through a back hallway where at its end, she entered a small room to her left.

“What took you so long?” asked Mulciber.

“I was detained,” was all she offered as she set down the glass and took a spot between Avery and Dolohov.  “Has anyone heard anything new?”

They all shook their heads.  

“Why did he stop us?” she asked. “Everything was going perfectly. I don’t know about any of you, but my building was spectacular.”

“If you’d been on time, you’d know that everyone’s buildings were spectacular,” Nott imitated her accent, “and must you do that in public?” 

“Do what?” she looked up in surprise.

“That!” he pointed at her hands.

She simply huffed and went right back to flicking her wand to touch up the chipped polish on her nails.

“Can we please get back to business?” implored Dolohav. “We all know we can’t bring down those buildings without help from the Dark Lord.  Until he tells us to resume, our hands are tied.”

“But why did he stop us?” asked Bella again, this time more emphatically. “No one has answered my question.”

“That’s because we don’t know, Bella,” snapped Avery. “Don’t you think the rest of us are frustrated as well?” His voice now rose with exasperation. “First he’s gone for months. Finally he returns with this stupendous plan, but then he stops us after only one day of operations. It makes no sense. What could have happened?”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Far off in Little Hangleton, a stumpy short wizard stood outside the bedroom of his master; with a trembling hand, he timidly knocked upon the door. “My lord, I have your broth.”

“Enter.”

Peter Pettigrew quietly entered the room and saw that the Dark Lord had finally made it out of his bed. He was now reclining on the chaise lounge, staring blankly out the window.

Peter scurried over and set the bowl of broth on the small side table then went to fetch a warm throw and returned to Voldemort’s side.

“My Lord?” he asked hesitantly.

Voldemort glanced over at the soft woolen blanket and nodded his head.

Making absolutely certain not to touch his master, Peter spread the blanket out to cover Voldemort’s legs.

“Is there anything else my Lord requires?”

Voldemort shook his head. “Leave me.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Peter bowed deeply then hurried out of the room.

Voldemort continued to stare out at the shadowy silhouettes of the shrubbery and trees as they peered back at him through the heavy fog.

He couldn’t actually remember Apparating back to his mansion. He could only remember waking up in his bed the day after his attack on Harry and then lying there for yet another day, immobilized by shock.

He was still in shock or better yet, stunned — stunned with disbelief that Harry Potter had once again overpowered him.

The first time had been all those years ago in Goderic’s Hollow. Potter’s second victory had taken place two years previous when they dueled in the graveyard. Then the annoying brat accomplished this impossible feat yet again last year, when Voldemort had tried to possess the boy — and then there was Samhain, just three days ago.

He’d been certain that this time his method would succeed, but it hadn’t. His efforts in using Legilimency to rip apart Harry’s mind didn’t only fail, it had backfired, as the boy had actually managed to enter his own mind. 

This personal attack was almost beyond Voldemort’s ability to comprehend or accept.

“How dare that impudent child attack me!” He spoke a loud, and to think of it again made him tremble with ire.

He knew he had to find some way to stop his annoying nemesis. Dueling was not an option, for their wands were related.  He couldn’t possess him and now, apparently he couldn’t even use Legilimency.

As the afternoon wore on, his cup of broth long forgotten, Voldemort continued to lie upon his lounge and ponder the challenge of just how he could succeed in killing Harry Potter.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Albus Dumbledore walked wearily along a corridor on the fourth floor of St Mungo's Hospital. Turning a corner, he saw Molly Weasley sitting at the opposite end. She rose to greet him as he approached.

“Oh, thank you for coming, Albus.”

“Is there any change in his condition?”

She shook his head, “No, I’m afraid not." She brushed back her hair. “Has Filius had any luck?”

“He tracked their travels to some ruins in Belize and succeeded in contacting them this morning. Last I heard, they were obtaining emergency international Portkeys and should arrive this evening.”

Dumbledore looked at the closed door. “And how is Harry?”

“That’s why I called you, Albus. You’ve got to do something.  He won’t listen to me, or Arthur. He absolutely refuses to leave.” Her voice began to quaver as her eyes filled with tears. “He’s devastated. He won’t eat or sleep. He’s just sitting there.” She sniffed her nose and drew a shaky breath.  “Would you please try and talk some sense into him? I think he’ll listen to you.”

“Of course, Molly,” He touched her shoulder then headed toward the door.

"Albus, how is Severus?"

He stopped and turned back. "I was with him this afternoon when he regained consciousness. Poppy says he'll be fine."

"Thank Merlin for that."

Dumbledore opened the door and entered the dimly lit hospital room. Harry was sitting beside the bed. He was holding Anthony’s hand and had fallen asleep.

When Voldemort attacked Harry the night of Samhain, his intent had been to use Legilimency to tear apart Harry’s mind and thus kill him; but Harry had automatically thrown up his shield, and inadvertently deflected the attacking force onto Anthony.

Anthony sustained numerous cerebral hemorrhages which had left him in a coma. The Healers believed that if he lived, he would most likely never come out of the coma. If he did come out of it, he would be permanently obtunded.

Dumbledore conjured a chair next to Harry’s and sat down beside him.

Harry was so pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess and he was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn for the past three days.

He reached forward and took Harry’s free hand. “Harry.”

Harry woke with a sluggish start, not realizing he had dozed off.

Dumbledore noted the red eyes and nose from crying. “Harry,” he spoke very softly, “Professor Flitwick has located Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein, they will be here shortly.”

Harry looked from Dumbledore over to Anthony. He was so tired he didn’t think he could speak, so he just nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Dumbledore continued, “When they arrive, I want you to go to the Burrow for the remainder of the week. You need to rest. I will arrange for Helena to come and see you.”

Harry sat there looking at his friend lying motionless upon the bed and his eyes welled with tears. “Why did this have to happen?” his voice shook as he started to cry. “Why does he always hurt the ones I love?”

Harry pulled his hand away from Dumbledore’s to cover his face as he broke into sobs, but he wouldn’t let go of Anthony’s hand.

Whatever Albus said, words could never justify what Voldemort had done to these two young men, or to all the innocent people that had lost their lives over the years in Voldemort's struggle for supremacy. So instead of offering an empty excuse, Dumbledore scooted his chair a little closer and reached an arm around Harry. He would sit and hold him while they awaited the arrival of Anthony’s parents, then he would take Harry to the Burrow.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus lay upon one of the infirmary beds propped up by numerous pillows. He felt dazed, had a terrible headache and one of his legs was numb. He'd sustained all his injuries as a result of being a little too close to Harry when his magical surge burst across the rose garden.

He was quietly sipping a cup of tea, trying to process the little bit of information Albus had told him regarding the events of that night; that of the three persons injured, the injuries of the intended victim had been the least severe.

Harry broke his ankle when he fell to the ground and was literally exhausted from fighting off Voldemort’s attack. Aside from that he was fine, at least physically. The injuries to Anthony had left Harry an emotional wreck.

He, Severus, sustained a fractured skull and concussion from the hard landing. The nerve damage to his leg occurred when some of Harry’s magical surge passed through him, short circuiting a couple of nerves.  Poppy assured him that they would regenerate, but that he’d have a slight limp for a while.

Then Severus lifted a hand to touch his hair. He hadn’t looked in a mirror yet, but he could certainly feel how thick it had become, for apparently another effect from the surge passing through him was that his hair had grown in length and was now about twice as thick as it had been.

He supposed he could attribute his dazed feeling to the concussion or being hit by a powerful magical surge, but Severus wondered if part of his daze was caused by what he’d experienced that night. 

It was that last memory of Harry's, that overwhelming feeling of love; Harry’s love to be precise, and somehow it had followed him into his own subconscious and had stayed with him, sheltering him whilst he was unconscious.

That strong feeling of being surrounded with love was now only a memory, now that he was awake. That love had withdrawn, or was it that he'd withdrawn from the love? He had no place in his life for love, but yet, there was a tiny part of him that had liked the feeling of being loved, and that tiny part of him wanted the love to come back.

“How are you feeling?” Poppy asked as she passed the privacy screen, startling him from his thoughts.

“Would you please announce your approach? I almost dropped this,” he barked while handing her the now empty cup.

“Ah, I can hear some of that spunk returning. I predict one more day, and then you'll be back to your old self again,” she teased just before performing another round of healing charms on his injured nerves.

“I’ll thank you to save your attempts at comedy for the other patients.”

When she finished her administrations she turned and looked at him with a curious expression.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“You seem different somehow.”

“It’s the hair.”

“No. It’s more than just your hair. Somehow, you’ve changed.”

“Nonsense,” he huffed as he rolled over onto his good side. “Now would you mind Noxing the lights so I can get some rest?”

Happy and relieved at his improvement, she smiled and did as he asked.  “Good night, Severus,”

He listened to her as she walked down the ward and retired to her quarters. Lying there in the darkened room, he thought about how it had felt when he was in his own dark place, and as much as he hated to admit it, that feeling of love wrapped around him had felt nice.  

"But it's gone now," he said quietly to himself.

Then it occurred to him that even if the love had left, he still had the memory of being loved, and perhaps that would be enough.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"I'll probably be late again tonight," Arthur said with an apologetic expression. 

"Oh Arthur, that will make every night this week."

"There's nothing I can do about it, Molly. With this new proposed directive, the Muggle Relations Department is swamped."

"I know dear, I think it's a good idea but you need help. Is the plan finalized yet?"

"It's still in the preliminary stages right now. Then we still have to find twenty individuals to become the new liaisons; that is no small feat."

"Has Kingsley been able to help? With all his experience..."

"Molly, he's already taken on France in addition to Britain. Fortunately..."

Just then the clock chimed, Late For Work.

"Oh no, I'm late!" He gave her a quick kiss and raced to the Floo. Just before tossing in the powder, he called back, "Don't let Harry talk you into letting him go back to St. Mungos. You know what the Healers said last night."

"I don't think he'll be able to manage much of anything today," she sighed. "Bye Arthur."

After he Floo'd to work, Molly went to Harry's room and peered around the doorway. He was sound asleep, but the covers had slipped of his shoulders and it was cold this morning. 

She tiptoed over to him, pulled the covers up and tucked them around his shoulders, then stood a moment and watched him sleep. 

Dumbledore and Molly had arrived the night before with Harry in tow, along an array of draughts and potions. The Healers had given Harry a quick once over before their departure and determined that he was on the verge of a physical collapse and that he needed to sleep and rest for the next few days. The threat of admitting him as a patient was enough to make him agree to all they prescribed, and Molly was determined to carry out their orders. 

She knew he'd sleep the entire day. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss on his forehead then went back to the kitchen to start preparing some hearty dishes for when he awoke.

By evening, she'd prepared beef stew, a shepherd pie, a dozen pasties, a treacle tart, scones and some nice warm spotted dick.  

The wonderful aroma wafting into his room roused Harry from his sleep. Even though he'd slept almost twenty four hours, he woke up groggy and just thought it was early in the morning.

He felt content and cozy, enjoying the yummy smells of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, thinking about how nice it would be to eat whatever it was she had cooked.

He started to stretch but stopped right away because of a painful twinge in his ankle. What did I do to my ankle? He wondered if he'd fallen off his broom, but then it hit him. He remembered what had happened and the ache that engulfed his heart took his breath away.    

As he lay there in the twilight with the soft background noise coming from the kitchen, Harry thought of Anthony and of how much he loved him. He thought about how cute Anthony was clever and smart yet sensitive, funny and self assured. He thought of Anthony's body and how much he loved to touch him and kiss.

Anthony had taught Harry so much about these things. He'd meant to ask Anthony where he'd learned all of this but now, he never could. His eyes welled with tears and he sank his face in the pillow and cried.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus had just poured himself a Scotch and was attempting to limp back to the couch when Dumbledore's voice called out from the Floo.

"Severus, are you awake?"

The hearth came into view as he passed the couch. Looking down at the face in the flames, Severus held his drink out for the old man to see. "Yes Albus, I'm awake. Come through."

He set down his drink, lowered himself onto the sofa and used both hands to lift his bad leg up onto the cushions. 

"Mind if I do?" came Albus's voice from behind him.

Looking over, Severus saw the Headmaster standing at the sideboard with the Scotch bottle in his hand. "Help yourself." He then proceeded to knock back a mouthful.

Poppy had discharged Severus from the infirmary only that morning with strict orders that he rest and recuperate for the remainder of the week. He was more than willing to comply, as the numbness in his leg had graduated into a severe ache, giving competition to the one in his head.     

Albus collapsed onto the wingback chair and the two men took a moment to consider each other.  This was the first opportunity they'd had for conversation since the ordeal of Samhain, five days previous.

"How is Harry?" asked Severus.

"He's at the Burrow, resting. Apparently he slept all of today and Healer Swanson will meet with him tomorrow."

"And Mr. Goldstein?"

Albus breathed in the vapors from the alcohol and then took a sip. "They moved him to the long term care ward on the fifth floor today. His parents are considering transferring him to a facility in Brussels."

"That will be difficult for Harry," Severus was concerned for the young wizard and perplexed with himself for feeling this way.

"Mr. Goldstein's prognosis is not promising, and the facility in Brussels apparently specializes in brain injuries." He took another sip before continuing. "Perhaps it is for the best," his voice sounded defeated. "Harry will waste away, worrying and fretting to no end, trying to keep a vigil..." He let the sentence hang unfinished.

They sat quietly for a while, sipping their drinks and lost in thought. 

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"I know you saw what transpired between Harry and Tom."

Severus stared at his drink and nodded in response; the movement caused blue reflections of light to bounce off his thick black hair.

"Can you tell me about the last memories you saw?"

His request hit a little too close to what had become a soft spot for Severus. "Why do you want to know?"

"Please Severus, I'm trying to understand what transpired that night and if there is any correlation between the attack on Harry and the abrupt end to the embassy attacks."

Severus's curiosity was now peaked. "Please explain."

Albus set down his drink and then steeped his fingers as he recalled what he'd seen that night. "Just before Harry's magic surged, the green light … that force which was bombarding him, it dissipated."

"It did?"

"Yes, it did." Now the old wizard sat foreword in his chair. "It was as if Voldemort withdrew his attack a fraction of a second before the surge."

Now Severus set down his own drink. "If that is the case …," he paused a moment as he formulated his hypothesis. "Perhaps that wasn't a surge at all. Perhaps that was simply Harry's shield, and when the Dark Lord abruptly ceased his onslaught, the force of Harry's shield shot throughout the immediate vicinity."

Dumbledore entertained this thought.

"You haven't discussed this with Harry?" continued Severus.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry is been in no condition to discuss anything of this nature.  He is so distraught; the Healers at St. Mungos almost insisted he be admitted as a patient."

Severus remained silent as he struggled over the fact that he found this news personally distressing.  

"But I still need an answer to my question, if you could provide it," Albus persisted.    

Severus leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, something he tended to do when he felt vulnerable. After a moment, he relayed all the images he had seen that night, both Harry's and the Dark Lord's, clarifying to Dumbledore that Harry had indeed fought back, miraculously employing his own stab at Legilimency. 

"Albus," Severus continued. “Harry not only fought back, but he succeeded in dictating what he showed to the Dark Lord. The last images I recall seeing were Harry's few memories of being loved." Severus actually had to pause a moment before continuing. "They were memories of him being held: by Molly, by you and by... Mr. Goldstein. This last one was quite … private."

Albus was quiet as he grasped the importance of Severus's revelation. 

"It was love," Dumbledore stated plainly.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Severus, last year when Voldemort possessed Harry, he withdrew as soon as Harry's thoughts reflected upon his love for Sirius. In that case, Harry's thoughts had been purely responsive. But this time, it would appear that Harry took this knowledge and drew upon his memories of love, intentionally, and used them as a weapon."

"Dear Merlin."

"Dear Merlin, indeed." Albus responded. "I would imagine this came as a rather nasty shock to Tom. It could explain why he retreated, and perhaps it might also be the reason for the abrupt halt in the attacks upon the Embassies.”

They stared at each other in disbelief. 

"He will have power the Dark Lord knows not..."** Albus whispered the words. "Tom may not understand this power of Harry's, but he certainly knows now, not to take it lightly.”   

~~~~~SH~~~~~

13.  Turning Point

Harry brushed his fingers lightly along Anthony’s pale cheek. He had come to say good-bye and was trying to memorize the still face, knowing that he might never see Anthony again. 

"I'm so sorry this happened," Harry's soft voice quavered. "It should have been me, not you." He sniffled then touched gently that little spot just behind Anthony's ear.

"You always liked it when I kissed you here." The tears were spilling down his cheeks.

"Can’t you hear me?" He leaned forward and kissed Anthony ever so gently. "Please open your eyes. Please come back, I miss you so ..." Unable to finish the sentence, Harry pressed his cheek next to Anthony's and sobbed.

Upon the advice of the Healers, Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein had decided to move Anthony to the institute in Brussels. They were just waiting for medical Portkeys and planned to leave later that afternoon.

It was Sunday morning, eight days following Samhain. Harry had stayed at the Burrow for four days, trying to recuperate from his ordeal. Helena came on both Friday and Saturday to work with him, helping him deal with his grief and hopefully avoiding a reoccurrence of the depression.

She encouraged Harry to talk about his and Anthony’s relationship and what he’d been experiencing and feeling ever since the attack. And even though Harry was dealing with the initial raw stages of grief, Helena felt it important that he resume his normal routine as soon as possible. Therefore, as soon as he finished saying good-bye to Anthony, Harry would return to Hogwarts and resume classes the following day.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Do you think we should go in and check on him?” asked Arthur.

“No dear, let him have a few more minutes.”

Arthur and Molly had escorted Harry to St. Mungos and were waiting outside Anthony’s room.

“I hope this doesn’t set him back,” Arthur said quietly.

“Helena said that Harry needed to do this for closure.”

The door behind them opened very slowly and Harry emerged from the room. He had pulled himself together but it was apparent that he’d been crying.

Molly took him in her arms and held him close to her.

Suddenly a number of people came around the corner, walking at a quickened pace; amongst them were Dumbledore, Jackson, Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein and a number of Healers.

“Albus, what’s the matter?” Arthur’s voice marked his surprise as he watched the Healers proceed on into the room.  

“My apologies,” returned Dumbledore, “but there has been an unexpected development.”

Mr. Goldstein touched Dumbledore’s shoulder. “Excuse me for interrupting Albus, but I just wanted to thank you for all of your help.

“Good luck to you and to your son and again, I am so very sorry.”

“Thank you, Albus.” He turned to go to his son as Mrs. Goldstein gave Harry a quick hug and whispered in his ear.

“You be sure to take care of yourself. It’s what Anthony would have wanted.”

Harry bit his lips, trying to keep his tears in check, and just nodded in reply.

She let go and went in to join her husband and son as Dumbledore began to explain to the Weasleys that Harry needed to return to the castle immediately.

“But why, Albus?” asked Molly. “What has happened?”

Dumbledore turned to Channon and handed him one of the Portkeys, “Will you please take Harry to my office and wait there with him. I’ll accompany Molly and Arthur back to the Burrow and explain the situation. I will only be a few minutes.”

“Of course.” Channon took the Portkey and stepped over to a distraught Harry.

“Harry, touch the Portkey,” he ordered.

Harry had no idea what was going on, all he did know was that Anthony's mind had been whisked into oblivion and now all that was left of him was being taken away to another country. Ever since his experience during the third task, Harry didn't trust Portkeys. Looking down at this one, part of him hoped that maybe this Portkey might take him into oblivion, so that he wouldn’t feel any more pain.

He reached foreword and touched the Portkey.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Later, when Dumbledore stepped from his Floo, he saw Harry standing before one of the tall windows. Channon was next to him, holding a supportive arm against the young man’s back. He was saying something to Harry, but his voice was so soft, Albus couldn’t hear what it was he said.

“Channon, would you mind? I need to discuss something with Harry — privately.”

The professor nodded then turned back to Harry. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

“Thanks,” Harry’s voice shook.

Dumbledore waited for Channon to leave. “There is an important matter I need to discuss with you.”

Harry stood there staring out the window. He felt so tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. He knew that Dumbledore talking to him but he just couldn’t find the interest or strength to listen to anything he had to say.

He didn’t know how long this had gone on but next thing he knew, Dumbledore had wrapped an arm around him and was guiding him across the office and into the antechamber. A bed appeared before him and Dumbledore was telling him to sit down, so he did.

“Drink this, Harry.”

Dumbledore was holding a vial in front of him, and Harry stared blankly at it. He felt as if he’d hit a wall and just couldn’t think or do — anything. The Portkey hadn’t sent him into oblivion as he had hoped, but perhaps this might.

So he took the vial and drank whatever it was inside.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The next thing Harry knew he was lying on the most comfortable bed imaginable. The sheets were soft and warm and he felt as if he was floating on a warm fluffy cloud.

He could hear the soft patter of rain upon a window. Not quite awake but not quite asleep he was content to just lie there, listening to the rain.

Eventually he felt a movement next to him, it spurred him to open his eyes. “Dobby? Is that you?”

The little house elf was sitting next to him upon the bed.

“Harry Potter is awake!” Dobby announced triumphantly as he handed Harry his glasses.

“The Headmaster is wanting Dobby to report to him when Harry Potter is awake, and so Dobby is going.”

“No Dobby, wait ...”  Too late, Dobby had already disappeared.

Harry slipped on his glasses, dragged himself to a sitting position and looked around the room. He recognized it but couldn’t remember how he got here.

Dumbledore strode into the room and quickly raised a hand when Harry tried to get out of the bed.

“Just stay where you are Harry. You’ve had a busy day, today.”

Harry looked to the windows and realized that it was twilight.

Dobby appeared back on the bed, but this time he was holding a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches; he offered both to Harry.

“Just the tea Dobby, thanks.”

Dobby walked up the bed and put the plate of sandwiches on a side table. He quickly glanced at the Headmaster who was busy levitating a big squishy chair next to the bed, then he leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Dobby is thinking that Harry Potter should eat,” he said a bit insistently.

Harry whispered back, “I will later, I promise.”

Satisfied, Dobby nodded his head and was gone in an instant.

Dumbledore took a seat and waited silently as Harry drank his tea and woke up a bit more.

“Sir, why…what am I doing here?”

The old wizard leaned back in the chair and regarded Harry for a few moments before answering. “You were in a bad way Harry, and in no shape to go to Gryffindor Tower." He then added in a whisper, "And I know how much you dislike the infirmary."

Harry looked to his tea, “Thank you, Sir.”

“There is however an important matter which we need to discuss.”

Oh yeah. “Is this why everyone had to leave so quickly this morning?”

“Yes.”

Harry just waited.

“Last night, Professor Snape was summoned by Voldemort.”

“Is he all right?” Harry asked in a panic. He already felt guilty over the fact that Snape had been injured from the surge, and couldn’t believe that he had risked his life trying to save Harry’s.

“Yes, he is — relatively speaking. He is still dealing with the injury he received last weekend, but you’ll see him tomorrow and can ask him yourself.” Dumbledore dreaded adding to Harry’s burdens, but he had no choice. “Our matter of concern is the information Professor Snape acquired last night.”

“Information?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“You mean, about the Embassy attacks?”

“Not exactly, although that is a related topic. Voldemort’s attacks upon the Embassies ceased because of you, because of your counter attack upon him.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must understand Harry, that Professor Snape witnessed the exchange between you and Voldemort.”

Harry froze. “He did?”

“Yes.”

“He saw … everything?”

Dumbledore nodded.  

“Did he tell you what he saw?” Harry blushed.

“To a certain extent.” Dumbledore leaned forward. “Harry, Professor Snape respects your privacy, as do I. What he saw will remain private, I assure you.”

Harry looked down at the sheets, avoiding the Headmaster’s gaze.  

“You have no cause for embarrassment,” Dumbledore continued. “On the contrary, I admire your courage and strategy. Not only did you succeed in countering Tom’s attack, your attack upon him led to the abrupt cease-fire upon the Embassies.”

This was all a bit much to take in, so Harry just took a sip of his tea instead.

“But we need to return to my original topic — that being Voldemort’s change in priorities.”

“What do you mean … his priorities?”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we believe he wants to kill you.”

“Sir, I already know this,” Harry said, sounding nonplussed. “He’s been trying to kill me since I was a baby.”

“Ah yes. Allow me to clarify.” Dumbledore adjusted a pleat in the fold of his lavender taffeta robes, “From what Professor Snape heard last night, he believes that killing you has become Voldemort’s top priority.”

“Um… so, that’s why I had to come back to the castle right away?”

“Yes, and that is also why the Goldstein’s had to expedite their departure.”

Harry’s heart may have missed a beat. “The Goldsteins? How does he know about Anthony?”

“He saw Mr. Goldstein in your mind, during your counter attack.”

Dumbledore quickly levitated Harry’s cup of tea before he dropped it.

“Oh God, what have I done?” Harry covered his face with his hands.

“Please do not to worry.” Dumbledore tried to diffuse the situation. “Mr. Goldstein has been registered under an alias and he will wear glamour. They are hundreds of miles away Harry. Everything has been taken care of.”

His expression was filled with trepidation, “You’re sure?”

“I am certain. But now, we must return to the primary topic.”

“That wasn’t it? There’s more?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes, I’m afraid there is.”

Harry lay back against the pillows, not knowing how much more of this he could take.”

“Because of this new development, you will have to remain in Hogwarts.”

Harry pulled the covers a little closer to him.

“This means no Hogsmead weekends and most likely, your Christmas break will have to be spent here at the castle.”

Harry lay silent for a minute, taking in this news. He finally responded in a small voice, “That’s okay. None of that matters anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry held onto the covers and spoke with a small voice. “It’s just that, I don’t really care anymore.”

Albus found Harry’s apathy distressing. “It will be possible for you to continue with Quidditch,” his voice held a hopeful tone. “I have placed a protective charm upon you; with it, you cannot pass through the wards if it is not of your choosing.”

Harry stared blankly and just nodded.

“Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have been waiting to see you,” Dumbledore intentionally used a soft voice. “Are you up for receiving visitors?”

“Sure.” Harry felt numb. All he could think about was how Voldemort was taking away everything that mattered in his life, bit by bit.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Monday morning Potions class was the usual affair, except for the fact that Snape was limping and using a cane.

The students had straggled into the early morning class, collected what they needed from the store cupboard, and were now attempting to brew the antidote to Veritiserum.

All through the double class, Severus kept an eye on Harry. It was obvious that the teen was having trouble staying focused, with the result that Miss Granger wound up brewing their entire potion nearly single-handedly.

In addition to Severus keeping an eye on Harry, Harry was in turn keeping an eye on his Professor, watching him struggle with his uncooperative leg.

Numerous times throughout the class they had inadvertently caught each other out, as they had looked to one another at the same time.

At the end of class, the students placed their samples on Snape’s desk, from where he called out their assignment.

“For Friday, you are to read chapter six and be well versed on the properties of antimony and its affect upon a Strengthening Solution. You will be tested on this. You are dismissed.”

The students moaned at the assignment, packed their schoolbags and then shuffled out of the potions lab.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were walking down the corridor when Harry suddenly stopped. “Listen, you guys go on ahead; I’ll catch up with you at lunch.”

“Why, where are you going?” asked Ron.

“I just want to talk to Snape for a minute, in private.”

Hermione looked at Harry and knew it would be pointless to try to change his mind. Ever since she’d spoken with him the night before, she could tell that he had changed. He seemed to have an attitude of seriousness about him now.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus hobbled over to the sideboard in his study and uncorked a vial of anti-pain draught. He measured out a healthy dose and took it in one swallow, then cringed at the bitter aftertaste.

Before he could replace the cork, something inside of him told him that Harry was nearby.

“What is it, Harry?” Severus asked even before he turned around. When he did, he saw Harry standing in the doorway.

Harry started to speak but paused. There was so much he wanted to ask this man that he didn’t know where to start. “Sir, I…wanted to apologize for injuring you.”

“You do not need to apologize. It was an accident.”

“I also wanted to thank you, for risking your life to try to help me.”

They stared at each other in silence. A desperate situation had led them to share something terribly private. But they were still teacher and student, and there existed the faint old sense of distance. It all just felt awkward.

Severus’s lunch appeared suddenly on the low table in between the two chairs.

They both looked over to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No Harry, wait.” Severus vacillated, his gut telling him one thing, his mind another.  “Would you care to join me?”

Surprisingly, the thought of sitting down and having a quiet lunch with Snape came as a relief. “Yes sir, thank you.”

The two men ate their meal, or at least Severus did. Harry only managed a few bites, not having much of an appetite. Finally gave up and settled for his cup of tea.

While they ate, they discussed a number of ‘safe’ topics: the new initiative set forth by the Ministry, the injury to Severus' leg and what actually was involved with nerve regeneration and so on.

Severus didn’t miss the fact that Harry had barely touched his food.

“Do you not like Dover sole?”

“Oh no Sir,” Harry sort of sighed as he spoke, “it was great. I… well, I just don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Understandable.”

Harry lowered his head and became noticeably tense.  

“I apologize. That was ...”

“No sir.” Harry set down his tea and clasped his hands together. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s not just that, I…”

“Harry?”

He startled at the interruption. “Sir?”

Snape nodded his head toward Harry’s clasped hands.

He stared at his hands and then realized that he was practically perched on the edge of his chair. Drawing a deep breath, Harry made himself sit back in the chair and relax.

Severus waited until Harry had visibly calmed. He knew that agitation could cause Harry to surge, and he was only just recovering from last weekend’s surge. “Please, continue.”

Harry sat and stared at his Professor. For weeks he’d wanted to finish the discussion that Snape had so abruptly ended, that day Harry first told him about his shield. But now, with all that had happened and was happening to him, his curiosity had turned into a desperate need.

“Sir, do you remember about a month ago, when I first told you of my shield?”

“Of course I do.”

“That day Sir, you said something to me in Italian.”

Severus stiffened slightly. He hadn’t expected this. “Yes, I recall.”

“You told me the words meant, I have experienced that on my own skin.”

“Yes?” he responded cautiously.

“Sir, could you tell me please, how you…  What do you do…” He swallowed and tried again. “Sir, how do you deal with — everything?”

Severus saw tears well up quickly in Harry’s eyes.

“Harry,” Severus shook his head gently, “do not look to me as an example. You should go and speak with the Headmaster.”

Harry shook his head. Even though he couldn’t say it, and even though Severus couldn’t say it, the two of them had shared — something, and whatever that something was, it had formed a sort of bond between them.

Harry’s voice was almost a whisper. “I don’t think I can go on, Sir. This is all too much.” The tears spilled over his lashes and began to slide quietly down his cheeks. “I know I have a job to do… But I…”

Severus struggled to stand up and then moved over to sit on the coffee table right in front of Harry. “You mustn’t speak like that,” he said imploringly.

“I don’t know how to deal with all of this.”

Severus stared at this young man crumbling before him. When he had been injured, Harry had somehow sent a part of himself to come and watch over him, Severus, in his time of need. Now it was his turn to do the same for Harry.

“You want to know how I persevere.” Severus’s jaw was hard set. Even though he wanted to help Harry, this wasn’t easy for him. “You want to know how I survived then, and how I continue to survive.”

Harry looked straight into those ebony eyes and nodded his head.

“You’re counselor might not agree with my methods.”

“I’m not asking her.”

“Very well.” Severus drew a deep breath and let it out in a huff, “Work. I lose myself in work.”

That wasn’t quite the revelation Harry thought he’d hear. “Work?”

“You asked me, and so I am telling you. When things get to be too much, I brew potions.”

Harry just stared at Snape. They were sitting inches away from each other, face to face but they were both so caught up in the conversation that this fact hadn’t even registered. with them.

“And that makes everything okay?”

“No. Everything, as you call it, remains unchanged, but brewing is an escape. It is how I step away from the complexities of life.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry eventually caught up with Ron and Hermione, all three were now making their way toward Transfiguration. As they walked along, Snape’s words regarding losing one’s self in one's work continued to echo in his mind, evoking a faint ray of hope in him.

I have work I could do, he thought to himself. There’s my schooling, and I have all kinds of spells, hexes and defensive measures to learn.

They walked into the classroom and took their seats.

I have to stay in the castle anyway, so maybe if I just keep myself really busy with work, maybe I won’t feel all the hurt.

His classmates began to pull out their parchment and quills, but Harry sat unmoving with his thoughts fixed upon Snape and how despite all that he had to endure, the man was so strong in character and formidable.

Concentrating on work must be the answer. I’ll give it a try and hopefully I won’t feel… 

Professor McGonagall began to speak and her voice snapped Harry from his thoughts. Now, with a desperate determination, he grabbed his quill and parchment and devoted his undivided attention to her lecture.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

14. A Wintry Season

Harry pressed himself flat against an enormous old Cypress tree and erected yet another Shield charm, but not before a Blasting Curse exploded nearby, sending a small stone flying and clipping him on the back of his head.

He’d already performed all the curses and hexes that had been assigned for this end of term maneuver, all he needed to do now was to make his way back to the starting point.

Dropping his Shield Charm, Harry silently incanted “Geminio.” All of a sudden, a dozen Harrys appeared and began running in all directions.

While all of these Harrys were being hit with assorted jinxes and hexes the real Harry cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself and ran pell-mell toward a rocky outcropping.

When he reached the designated ‘safety zone’ he leaned against one of the smooth boulders, slid to the ground and uttered wearily, “Finite.”

Dumbledore, who’d been watching the operation from this vantage spot, actually jumped at Harry's sudden appearance.

“There you are. Well done, my boy, well done,” the old wizard said with a smile.

Channon came running over, “Harry that was brilliant, using the Gemino Curse!”

Harry was totally out of breath but he managed a small 'Thanks' to both men.

While the majority of students had been in Hogsmeade relaxing and doing some Christmas shopping, Harry had spent over an hour in a secluded grove just north of the castle executing a Defense Against the Dark Arts test designed specifically for him. He’d had to make his way across the grove using an arsenal of assigned spells, hexes and curses all whilst battling off both professors Jackson and Snape.

Harry sat leaning against the boulder, listening to Dumbledore and Jackson as they discussed some of the highlights of the exercise when he saw Snape approach.

The two dark haired wizards silently regarded each other for a few moments before Severus offered the smallest of smiles and finally nodded his head in approval.

Harry didn’t understand why, but Snape’s approval had become very important to him. Seeing his professor nod his head, Harry finally breathed a sigh of relief and leaned his head back against the cold stone.

Severus noted the blood running down the back of Harry’s neck. “You’re injured”

Dumbledore and Jackson ceased their conversation to look at Harry who in turn had begun examining his hands and legs.

During the exercise, Harry had needed to dive behind countless trees and rocks for cover and had been sprayed numerous times with shards of wood and bits of stone. He’d received so many little cuts and bruises, he wasn’t certain to which one Snape was referring.

Severus moved over to where Harry sat and knelt down on one knee. “Let me take a look,” he said as he gently placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, encouraging him to lean forward.

Severus carefully parted the hair and inspected the wound. “Perhaps you should have Madame Pomfrey heal this.”

“Oh no Sir, couldn’t you do it?” asked Harry. “It’s just a cut, right?”

Severus looked to Dumbledore who nodded his consent.

He healed the wound then helped the teen get to his feet.

“Now that you have mastered these spells,” said the Headmaster. “Professor Jackson and I wish to discuss with you the next level of your training. Why don’t you get cleaned up and then come to my office in say … two hours?”

“Come on Harry,” Channon called over, “I’ll walk you back to the castle.”

“Severus would you mind staying a moment?” asked Dumbledore. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”

“Of course Headmaster.”

Channon and Harry started back toward the castle as Severus moved to stand closer to Dumbledore. After taking only a few steps Harry chanced a glance back and saw that the two wizards were watching him.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Gryffindor Tower was practically empty as most of the students were still in Hogsmeade.

Harry walked up the stairs and headed straight for the showers.

He washed away the grime and tended to his wounds then stood for a long time under the spray, hoping that the hot water would chase away the residual cold lingering in his bones from his afternoon out in the winter temperatures.

Toweling off, he felt totally exhausted and decided to try and catch a short kip before heading up to the Headmaster’s office.

With only a towel wrapped around his waist Harry shuffled down the hallway to his dorm room but stopped in his tracks when he saw the tie hanging on the doorknob.  

“Oh no.”

He let out a huff and debated what to do. Normally he’d just go hang out in the common room, but he was standing there stark naked except for the towel. The clothes he’d worn that afternoon were a mess and besides which — he was really tired and needed a nap, damn it.

He knocked soundly on the door. “Listen, whoever’s in there, I’m coming in.”

“Hold up!” Ron called out, “didn’t you see the tie?”

“Of course I saw the tie but I’m freezing out here.”

Harry heard muffled voices. “Ron, I’m serious. I’m opening this door in three seconds. One, two…”

It sounded like someone fell on the floor, then after only a couple of seconds — the door opened and there stood Ron. From his disheveled appearance, it was easy to guess what he’d been up to.

“Harry…what’s the idea?”

“What do you mean — what’s the idea? This is my room too.”

A noise caused him to look over just in time to see Hermione kneeling on Ron’s bed, franticly trying to button up her blouse.

“Oh for God’s sake,” he said under his breath.

“Harry, listen…” pleaded Ron.

Harry gave up and just walked in to the room — towel and all. “Never mind, it’s all right. You two don’t think I already know? I’ve known about you for weeks.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione’s voice at first sounded sympathetic, but it quickly turned to a squeal. “Oh Harry!”

He had walked to the other side of his bed and turned away from her, then dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of sweats. “Sorry Mione, but I’m freezing!” Then he pulled last year’s Christmas jumper from Mrs. Weasley over his head.

Hermione, still on her knees, stared at Harry in disbelief. “What in Merlin’s name happened to you? You’re covered with bruises and cuts.”

“Oh.” He thought she had squealed because of the towel. “It’s nothing,” he responded as he pulled back the covers and crawled onto his bed. “They’re just from my exam this afternoon.”

“Oh yeah, how did it go?” asked Ron.

“Fine.” Harry said in a huff as he placed his glasses on the night-table.

“No, come on tell us … how did it go?”

Ron and Hermione were a blur but Harry stared pointedly at them anyway. “It went fine. I got through all the spells and made it to the safety spot. But now I just need to warm up and close my eyes for a bit before I meet with the Headmaster.”

“You’re meeting with Dumbledore? Why, what’s going on?” asked Ron.

“Ron!” Harry yelled, “Will you please just give me a break?”

“Come on Ron,” Hermione pulled gently at his arm. “Harry is tired. We can talk to him later.”

Ron’s hurt was evident in his expression as he and Hermione sulked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Harry watched his two friends leave and then continued to stare at the door after it had closed. He didn’t know why, but these days he felt like an outsider — like he just didn’t fit in anymore.

“Dobby,” he called out quietly.

The house elf immediately appeared. “Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby is here.”

Harry managed a little smile at the elf’s enthusiasm. “Dobby, would you wake me up in about forty-five minutes? I’m really tired and I have to be somewhere in an hour.”

“Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby will wait here and wake Harry Potter.”

“Thanks, Dobby.”

Harry dropped down under the covers and fell asleep after only a few moments.

Dobby felt very sad because lately his favorite human had been very unhappy.

He tip toed up to the head of the bed and pulled the covers a little further up over Harry’s shoulders. Then he sat down and waited quietly while Harry Potter slept.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The first snows of the season swirled as the students climbed into the waiting carriages.

“Have a Happy Christmas,” Hermione wished Harry, giving him a hug. “I wish you could go to the Burrow.”

“It’s okay, Hermione. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to stay here for Christmas.”

She started to pull away but Harry held onto her and whispered in her ear. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been an ass lately.”

She tightened her grasp on him. “You don’t need to apologize. You have every right to be angry.”

They stood there for a while holding onto each other until Ron stepped close and placed a hand on Harry’s back. “Hey mate, I could stay here with you and…”

“No Ron, you go be with your family. I’ll be okay, really. Professor Jackson is staying and we’re going to work on some new stuff.”

“All right,” Hagrid’s voice cut through the air, “We’r needin to keep a move on. In’tuh the carriages with ya now.”

“Well, have a Happy Christmas,” Harry called out as Ron and Hermione climbed into the carriage then he stood and watched as it rolled away toward the front gates.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The weather turned bitterly cold the week before Christmas. Channon worked relentlessly with Harry on his new assignment — wandless spells, everyday from sun-up until well into the night.

It was the day before Christmas and the two men were just walking back toward the castle after their morning run.

“So you’re leaving this afternoon?”

A look of contentment crossed his professor’s face. “Yeah.”

“It is,” he smiled. “I’m, well ... I’m engaged.”

Harry actually stopped in his tracks. “You’re engaged?”

“Yes.”

“You’re getting married?”

“That’s generally what it means … yes,” he said, chuckling.

“Then what in God’s name are you doing here? Why aren’t you with her?  Her … right?”

“Yes, she’s a her.” Channon gave Harry a push and they resumed walking toward the castle. “To answer your first question, I’m here because I believe strongly in this assignment.”

Harry answered sheepishly, “You mean, training me?”

“Yes, training you is important and necessary for the survival of everyone, both Muggle and magical people. I have Mariah’s complete support in this.”

“Mariah. That’s her name?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s where you’re going for Christmas?”

Channon bumped his shoulder against Harry’s. “Yeah. I’m sorry if…”

“Oh no, Channon. Really, I’m happy for you.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry awoke on Christmas morning to an empty dorm room.

He sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. As usual, there was a small pile of presents at the foot of the bed. When he put on his glasses however, he realized that it really couldn’t be considered a pile as there was only one present and two letters.

Feeling a bit disappointed, he bit his lips and unwrapped the present, a book on rare defensive spells from Channon. Then he reached for the smallest letter.

It turned out to be a card from Remus, wishing Harry a Happy Christmas and saying that he wished he could come and visit but that he was busy on an assignment for the Order.

Tossing it aside, he then reached over and picked up the larger envelope. There was a slight bulge in the middle. When he opened the envelope, out fell an amulet strung upon a silver chain.

He’d never seen anything like it and he picked up the amulet to study it more closely. Then he unfolded the parchment and read the note.

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. He stared at the letter from Snape and ran his fingers over the initials. Then set down the note and slipped the necklace over his head. For some reason, he suddenly didn’t feel quite so alone.

Knowing there was a special Christmas breakfast being served in the Great Hall for the few individuals whom had stayed over; Harry got dressed and headed down the stairs. The sight that greeted him from the common room however, stopped him in his tracks.

There, standing before a huge decorated Christmas tree laden with presents beneath its boughs was the entire Weasley family, Hermione and Hagrid.

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” they all called out to him.

Everyone took a turn hugging him. Molly and Arthur had waited so that they were the last to reach Harry. When they did, Molly wrapped the stunned teen in her arms.

“You didn’t think we would let you be alone on Christmas, now did you?” she whispered in his ear.

Arthur placed one arm behind Harry’s back and one behind Molly’s. “We told you last summer son, you are a part of this family.”

Harry had vowed, that last time he’d seen Anthony, he would never cry again. But his determination was quickly beginning to fail him. He tucked his face at the base of Mrs. Weasley’s neck and spoke in a shaky voice, “Thank you for caring about me.”

“Oh dear,” she patted his back, “how many time do we have to tell you? We don’t just care about you … we love you.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Bye Mom,” Neville leaned forward and gave his mother a peck on her cheek.  He stood up and stared down at the expressionless face.

“Gran, I’m going to go say good-bye to Dad, then I’ll meet you at the nurse’s desk.

“Very well,” the stern old witch answered. She and Neville had come to St. Mungo’s this Christmas day to pay a visit to his mother and father.

Alice was wearing the scarlet colored scarf her mother in law had brought as a Christmas present. Augusta knew the staff wouldn’t let her daughter in law keep the scarf, but had brought it anyway, thinking it might add a cheery touch.

Their visit completed, Augusta and her grandson left the hospital and only had to wait a moment out in the bitter cold for the Knight Bus to arrive.

Mrs. Longbottom took a seat in the front while Neville went to sit in the rear. These visits always left him feeling empty and depressed. Sitting alone at the back of the bus, he stared out the window and thought how just once, he wished he could experience a truly happy Christmas.

“Come along, Neville. Don’t dawdle.”

“Sorry, Gran.”

They walked up the long pathway and entered the front door to the Victorian mansion.

“I caught a chill being out in that cold,” she said. “Go and see if the elves have tea ready for us.
 

“Yes, Gran.”

Neville had barely taken one step when he heard his grandmother call out, “What are you doing here? How dare you step foot in my home!”

Turning, Neville reached for his wand but he was quickly grabbed by Mulciber.

“Shut it, you old bitch,” Bellatrix shouted back.  Then she quickly cast a Langlock jinx and Petrificus Totalus upon the matronly witch.

Dolohov swiftly levitated Augusta before she fell over and then positioned her on one of the couches.

“Gran!” Neville called out.

“Be quiet, you idiot boy,” snarled Bellatrix. “We aren’t going to hurt the old bat.”

Neville struggled to free himself but was quickly bound by thin cords that had shot out of Bellatrix’s wand.

“Let me go! Let me go!” he continued to struggle against his bonds.

“Bella, get on with it!” yelled Mulciber, “I’ve had it with this kid!”

Lestrange stepped close to Neville. Then with a gleam in her eye she raised and pointed her wand at the struggling teen. “Imperio,” she crooned softly.

Neville stopped his struggles and the expression on his face relaxed as he fell into the blissful daze of the curse.

She stepped even closer now and toyed with her captive as she ran her wand along his cheek and jaw. “We have a job for you to do my pudgy, little friend.”

Neville stared blankly at his tormentor.

“You are going to deliver Harry Potter to us.”

“I can’t. He’s safe inside Hogwarts.”

“I realize that you imbecile. That is why you must convince him to step outside the wards. Once he’s clear of the them, we can take him.”

“Harry is smart. He won’t do it.”

“Well you’d better find a way of getting him to leave of his own accord, because if you don’t do it, we will kill you grandmother.”

Neville was no match for the powerful curse. “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll find some way to get Harry to leave Hogwarts.” 

The echoing sound of raised voices woke Severus from his nap. They scared him and he wanted his mother.

He climbed from his bed and ran out his room where he was enveloped in a pale gray mist.

"Mummy!" He called and he stretched out his arms trying to find her.

The voices grew louder and louder. Then a horrible, piercing scream sounded over an ominous thumping noise.

Severus bolted upright from his bed and gasped. He was covered in a cold sweat and breathing hard.

"Lumos!"

He looked around the bedroom and tried to collect his thoughts, then he dragged a hand though his thick black hair and pushed it away from his sweaty face.

After a minute he slid out of his bed then staggered into his bathroom to splash some water on his face.

With droplets of water dripping from his nose and chin, Severus looked up and stared at his pale reflection in the mirror.

"Grrrr," he grumbled in frustration.

"What's wrong, dearie?" asked the mirror.

The sweet voice startled him, "How many times must I tell you?" he yelled. "Never talk to me!"

Severus stormed out of the bathroom, grabbed his black silk robe from the foot of his bed and slipped it on as he strode out to the living room.

He poured himself a snifter of brandy, waved his hand to start a fire then went over to sit before the hearth.

After taking a large sip of the burning liquid Severus laid his forehead in his hand and sighed.

"This is all his fault."

For months now the memory of that night had visited him in nightmares. It seemed as though his experience with Harry while he, Severus, had been unconscious had left an indelible mark upon him.

He was frustrated with himself and with Harry for that matter. Part of him blamed all of this…vulnerability, on that blasted green eyed wizard. Severus was accustomeded to being in control of himself but these resurfacing memories refused to be silenced.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The raucous in the Gryffindor common had escalated to beyond deafening.

"Did you see the look on their faces?" asked Ginny

"It was bloody fantastic. They couldn't believe it was happening to them!" added Dean.

"I know!" continued Ron. "And when Harry caught the Snitch I thought their entire team would fall off their brooms!"

All of Gryffindor was in the common room celebrating their win in the semi-finals that afternoon.

"Speaking of which — hey Harry, come over here! Have some of this punch," suggested Seamus. "It's got a real kick to it…if you get my drift."

Everyone started laughing. Harry shook his head as he came down the steps and crossed the common room.

"No thanks, I've had enough."

"What do you mean — you've had enough? You haven't had any."

"I know— and I'm going to keep it that way," Harry retorted as he slipped out the porthole.

It was only three o'clock Sunday afternoon. Harry decided there was still plenty of time to study for tomorrow morning's potions exam so he was off to the library to do just that.

"Hey, Harry!"

He turned back to see Neville standing just outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Yeah?"

"You want to maybe go into Hogsmeade to celebrate?"

Harry wondered a moment if he'd heard correctly. "Uh…Neville, we can't go to Hogsmeade whenever we want to — you know that."

"Oh, right. I don't what I was thinking."

Harry took a couple of steps back toward where Neville stood. "Maybe you're just excited about the win," he offered.

"That must be it."

As Harry looked more closely at his friend, it seemed as though something about him was a bit off.

"Are you all right?" Harry put a hand on Neville's shoulder whom in turn jumped immediately backward. Harry lifted his hand quickly, as if he'd been scalded.

"I'm sorry Neville, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay." Neville glanced off to the side trying to avoid looking directly into Harry's eyes. "I guess I'll go back to the party." He turned and ducked back into the porthole.

Harry stared dumbfounded at the portrait.

"Well," said the Fat Lady, "that was certainly odd behavior."

"You can say that again."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Intentionally avoiding his and Anthony's usual spot in the back corner, Harry veered off to the right to join Hermione. Walking past the sixth shelving of books he saw the familiar wild mop of curly hair.

"Hi Mione," he whispered.

"Harry…What are you doing here? How come you aren't celebrating?"

"I'm the one who caught the Snitch, remember? That's celebration enough."

"Guess you have a point."

"Listen," Harry whispered as he had a quick look around the immediate area. "Have you noticed anything weird about Neville?"

"You mean more than the usual?"

"Yeah."

"No. Why?"

Harry told her about what had just occurred.

Hermione sat back and tapped her pencil against the side of her head. "Maybe," she strung out the word as she formulated her thought. "Perhaps he's anxious about the upcoming Easter break."

He cocked his head a little to the side. "Why?"

"Harry, you know how his grandmother intimidates him. And visiting his folks always makes him depressed."

"Yeah … maybe that's it."

"I'll have a chat with him, but listen, we need to study."

"I know. Let me see your notes on steam and component reactions."

"Sure." She handed the parchment to him. "You do know this effect occurs during the brewing process of Draught of Living Death."

"Why do you think I'm asking for it?" his voice inadvertently rose above a whisper and Madame Prince immediately reprimanded them with a 'Shhhhh'.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"I'm going to get Harry some Pepper Imps. He loves these things," stated Ron.

"Just hurry up," huffed Hermione impatiently.

They'd been in Hogsmeade all morning and it being midterm, Hermione was anxious about their upcoming tests.

"I want to get back and do some more studying."

"I tell you Mione, between you and Harry … you're both going to drive me loony with all of your studying."

It was Saturday, two days before the beginning of the midterm tests. The next weekend the majority of the students would go home for the Easter break.

Neville listened to his two friends bantering back and forth as he strolled out of Honeydukes. He was apprehensive because he'd not yet fulfilled his assignment.

He sucked upon a Licorice Wand as he walked toward Zonkos Joke Shop. Suddenly, the large hand of Mulciber reached out, grabbed him and threw him to the cobblestones between two narrowly set buildings. Waiting for him in the back alley were Dolohov and Bellatrix.

She pointed her wand and Accio'd Neville to where she stood.

"Where is Potter?'

Neville crouched upon the ground with fright. "I keep asking him, but he won't leave Hogwarts."

The hardened, bitter witch stared down at the teen. "We were wrong in choosing this one." She looked up toward the two wizards. "He is too stupid and too weak."

"Maybe so Bella," snapped Mulciber, "but he's all we've got. Go on … give it to him."

She walked over, knelt down next to Neville and drew a deep breath. As much as she would have preferred to hit him with the Cruciatus, she had to instead put on an act and play to the Imperius curse.

"Sit up little boy," she said in a soft voice.

Neville sat up and wiped away the tears that had started running down his cheeks.

"Look at this." She removed a satin covered oval box from one of her robe pockets and held it out for him to see.

"It's…beautiful," he replied in a shakey voice.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Stop talking and pay attention." She pulled back the clasp then raised the lid. Inside the satin box were two petite and beautifully decorated chocolate eggs.

Neville opened his mouth as if to say 'Oh', but he dared not make a sound.

Each egg was covered with roses made from icing, each was a different color.

"You may only eat one of these eggs. Do you see this green one here?"

Neville nodded.

"You may eat only this egg, and you may only eat it when Potter is near to you, but no one else. Then you must get him to eat the other egg. Is that understood?"

Again, Neville nodded. "Then what do I do?"

Bella smiled, "Then…" she placed her wand under his chin, encouraging him to look up, "you bring him to us outside the gates. We will be waiting for the two of you."

"Okay, I think I can do that."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus put out the flame under the cauldron then levitated it over to another work table. After this last potion cooled, he would bottle it and then head back to Hogwarts.

Turning away he cocked his arms and stretched, trying to work some of the kinks from his sore back. He'd worked most of the night brewing potions for the Dark Lord and it was now well into the wee hours of Monday morning. But thankfully there'd be no sixth year potions class to teach and none all week for that matter, as the students had returned to their homes for Easter break.

Leaning against the table Severus stared around the laboratory. It was located in an underground room and even after all these months, he still had no idea as to the location of this manor. The summoning Apparation always deposited him in the foyer he'd seen that first night of Voldemort's return. Then he was escorted immediately down a stairway to the laboratory and had never been allowed access to any window.

He divided this last potion evenly between the awaiting vials and corked each one. His work completed, he went to gather his cloak but stopped when the door slammed abruptly open and in rushed Pettigrew.

"You must come with me."

Severus looked disdainfully at the little wizard. "And why might that be," he replied in a cool voice.

"It's our Master. He is quite ill."

"Another headache?"

Peter nodded his head in a quick, jerking fashion.

While contemplating the possibility that Pettigrew had spent too much time in his Animagus form, Severus stepped quickly to the store cupboard to retrieve the necessary medicinal potions.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus leaned over the still figure of the Dark Lord as he slept.

Judging the crisis as having been rectified, the tired potion master stood up wearily and nodded his head toward the door. "Come with me, I need to discuss the dosages with you."

Peter headed toward the door as Severus went to gather the few vials of unused potions. When he turned, he noticed that the drapes were open and so quickly surveyed the nearby surroundings to see if he could garner any clues as to location of the manor.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry yawned and stretched as he rolled onto his back. The immediate thought that he had overslept seized him and he shot up to a sitting position.

"Morning," Neville's voice called over.

"What time is it?" Harry asked in a panic.

"Just after seven."

"Shit, I'm going to be late for potions."

"Relax Harry, it's Easter break … remember?"

Harry already had one foot on the floor. "Oh yeah." He fell back into bed and pulled the covers back over himself. "I forgot."

"What time did you get in?" Already dressed, Neville was sitting on his bed doing up the laces to his shoes.

"Just after eleven. Channon left me some assignments and I was trying to get in some extra practice."

Deciding to skip his morning jog for once, Harry closed his eyes to savor this rare luxury of having no classes.

Across the room, Neville studied Harry for a moment and decided to try and implement the plan he'd been assigned.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I have this extra credit project for Herbology and I was wondering if… maybe you…well, if…"

"Just say it, Neville."

"Would you want to come with me to collect some Flitterbloom?" he said rather quickly.

Harry opened one eye and stared at Neville's expectant face. He'd heard that Neville's grandmother had gone off on some cruise and left Neville at Hogwarts for the Easter break. Harry felt badly for him so he decided…well, what the heck.

"Okay. Sounds like fun."

"Really Harry? Gee, thanks!"

"Wait a minute, where are they?"

"What?"

"The Flitterblooms…what do you think?"

"Oh. They're just below the greenhouses."

"Okay, cause you know I have to stay within the wards, right?"

"Sure Harry."

Neville preoccupied himself with this and that while Harry got dressed.

"Okay, I'm ready. Let's get breakfast first then go pick the Flitter-whatevers. I'm starving."

Neville jumped at the opportunity. "Well here, Harry. Have one of these. My Gran sent them and they look really good."

He held out satin oval box and popped the green egg into his mouth.

Harry stared at the remaining decorated, chocolate egg and it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't received one of Mrs. Weasley's decorated eggs this year.

Feeling slightly hurt, Harry reached for the egg. "Thanks Neville," he said in a hushed voice.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus strode briskly along the wooden bridge that led to the seldom-used west entrance of the castle. He was hoping to enter unnoticed and avoid drawing attention to the odd hour of his arrival. He walked through the alèe then up the steps to the heavy wooden door and slipped quickly inside. The sight that greeted him — stopped him dead in his tracks.

"What is going on here?"

Neville practically jumped out of his skin and almost let go of Harry. "Um…nothing sir. We were just going outside for a bit."

"What's wrong with Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing sir, he's just a little sleepy."

Snape stepped closer to check on Harry but Neville back up quickly in response. He was holding onto one of Harry's arms, which was slung across the back of Neville's neck. He'd wrapped his other arm around Harry's waist and was barely managing to keep the semi-conscious teen in a vertical position.

Neville's defensive retreat spurred Snape to whip out his wand.

"Harry! What's wrong?"

Harry mumbled a few incoherent sounds.

"I'll ask you one more time Mr. Longbottom. What is wrong with Potter and where are you two going?"

Neville could only think about how he had to get Harry out to the gates and decided to try exiting via the front entrance.

"We'll just go back up to our dorm."

He turned to go up the back staircase.

"Stay where you are Longbottom!" bellowed Snape.

Neville startled and lost his hold on Harry, who in turn slipped from the tenuous grasp and fell to the stone floor.

The imperiused teen grabbed hold of Harry's hand and tried pulling him up.

"Don't — Move!" Snape roared.

Neville let go of Harry's hand and plastered himself against the cold stone wall.

With his wand trained pointedly at Neville, Snape moved to Harry's side. After determining that he was breathing the livid wizard stood and with agonizing slowness stalked toward Neville.

"Look— at— me," Snape commanded in an intense, acidic voice. He was now standing directly in front of the shaking, terrified teen.

"Where were you taking Potter and what is wrong with him?" Snape hissed.

"I have to take Harry outside the wards."

Severus froze. He realized instantly what was taking place. "Who did this to you?"

"Sir, they'll kill her if I don't bring him."

"Kill who?" he pressed.

"My Gran."

"Who's going to kill her?" now Snape shouted.

"I can't…tell you." Neville could barely get his words out because of the curse.

Snape had had enough. He raised his wand quickly, "Finite."

Neville was hit with a wave of dizziness. He immediately slid down the wall and plopped to a seated position upon the stone then buried his face in his hands and began to cry.

Severus was furious. He wanted to throttle Neville, but he needed information and he needed it quickly. Forcing himself to take a deep breath (and not strangle Neville on the spot) Severus reigned in his emotions and used the calmest voice he could manage to ask the young man to relay all the details of what had happened and most importantly, what he'd done to Harry.

In just minutes, Severus had called upon Dobby to bring Dumbledore down to the remote and empty hallway. The old wizard took over the situation with Neville while Severus, with Harry slung over one shoulder, ran quickly down the stairs to his private potions lab.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

He had a pretty good idea what the chocolate egg had been laced with, as only two weeks ago he had received orders to brew batches of Befuddlement Draught, Confusing Concoction and a highly concentrated version of Calming Draught. Any one of these alone was relatively safe, but from the looks of Harry it would appear that they had used all three potions and it was a miracle that he was still alive.

Severus flicked his wand as he rushed into the room causing several cauldrons, vials and brewing ingredients to levitate up toward the ceiling. He carefully laid Harry down upon the now clear worktable and then rushed over to the store cupboard to retrieve the needed antidotes and combined them into one vial.

Then he raised Harry's head and upper torso to administer the antidotes. When he did so, Harry's shirt front opened and Severus startled when he saw the amulet lying against Harry's chest.

That's why he's still alive.

Severus poured combined antidotes into Harry's slightly open mouth.

"Come on," Severus stroked Harry's throat in a downward motion, "Swallow."

After a few seconds, Harry finally swallowed the antidotes and Severus released a sigh of relief.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Around four o'clock that afternoon, Severus walked slowly to his kitchen to make some tea. He'd fallen asleep out on the couch in his sitting room and had only woken up when Dumbledore arrived to fill him in on the ensuing events of the day.

He lit a fire under the pot then leaned against the counter with his eyes closed, thinking about all that Dumbledore had just told him.

"Sir?"

The soft voice startled Severus.

"Harry. What are you doing up?"

Harry felt like he'd had a terrible case of the flu. "Where am I, Sir?"

"My quarters." Severus looked at the pale teen leaning against the door jamb. "You had better sit down before you fall down."

Harry moved to sit on a nearby chair, but Severus met him and escorted him over to the couch, then spread a warm throw over him.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry looked pale, exhausted and clearly dazed. He shrugged his shoulders, closed his eyes and laid his head back upon the pillows.

"I was just making tea. I'll get you some."

"Sir … why did he do it?"

"So you do remember," Severus answered from the kitchen. "I wondered if you would."

"I remember bits and pieces."

Severus returned with a warm mug of tea and offered it to Harry.

"I ate that egg..." He raised a hand to his aching forehead, "then everything started spinning, but for some reason it didn't seem to matter."

He watched as Severus sat down across from him. "I should have defended myself."

"The egg contained two different Confusing potions and a concentrated Calming Draught. That is why you could not react."

"But why did he do it?"

Severus relayed all that Dumbledore had just told him: that Neville had been placed under an Imperius Curse and that the Death Eaters had threatened to kill Neville's grandmother if he was unsuccessful in getting Harry out beyond the wards.

"Is he okay?"

"Mr. Longbottom?"

Harry nodded.

"Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster are seeing to his needs."

"And his grandmother?"

Aurors were sent to her residence and rescued her. She was uninjured, but St. Mungos wants to keep her a couple of days for observation. Those who were guarding her managed to escape.

"Neville won't get in any trouble … will he? It wasn't his fault."

Severus was impressed by the fact that even though Neville's actions had almost killed Harry, his main concern right now was Neville's welfare.

"This is really going to upset him," Harry continued. He then laid his head against the back of the couch and shivered a little. Despite the tea and blanket he still felt cold. "Poor Neville."

Severus pointed his wand toward the hearth and increased the size of the fire. "Mr. Longbottom was clearly being controlled by the curse. To answer your question — no, charges will not be leveled against him." Severus took a sip of his tea. "With regards to his personal state … I believe the Headmaster is going to ask your counselor if she will speak with him."

"That's good," Harry said in relief. He sat quietly for a bit and stared at a grouping of botanical prints on the opposite wall.

"Sir, do you like roses?"

Severus startled slightly at the unexpected change of topic. "Why do you ask?"

"You have paintings of roses over there."

It seemed to Severus that Harry had an uncanny knack of catching him off guard, particularly in matters of a personal nature. "Well, as a matter of fact, I do," his voice sounded a bit defensive.

"So do I."

Harry's admission earned two raised eyebrows. "You?"

The teen snapped out of his daze a bit and turned to look at his professor. "Yeah, me. I always did the gardening for my aunt. She has lots of roses."

Severus silently recalled seeing all the roses in the Dursley's garden that night last summer when he was sent to remove the evidence of Arthur's Bat Bogy Hexes.

Harry lolled his head back against the couch. "I have a favorite one," he sighed. "It's called 'Peace'."

Severus fingered the lip of his mug. "I am familiar with that cultivar." Then he paused a moment, debating. These forays into personal communication were still rather new to him and left Severus feeling uncomfortable. In all his life, he'd never divulged the simple fact that he, Severus Snape, feared potion master and spy, had a favorite rose.

"I too have a favorite rose," he said softly.

Harry looked over with his droopy eyes. "So, which one is it?"

Severus looked down, a bit embarrassed. "Souvenier de Madame Lèonie Viennot."

"You're putting me on."

"Not at all."

" Is there really a rose with a name like that?"

Then a miracle happened, Severus Snape actually chuckled. "Yes Harry, there is a rose named Souvenier de Madame Lèonie Viennot. And do you know what?"

"What?"

"Its coloring is very similar to your Peace rose."

"Really?"

Severus nodded and a little spot in his heart warmed at the fact that here he was sharing a quiet conversation about one of the few things in his life he considered — beautiful.

"I'll show you a picture someday."

"I'd like that." Then Harry offered, "Sir…thank you for letting me stay here and not taking me up to the infirmary."

"I am aware of your aversion to the place, and I must say I concur with your sentiment."

Severus sat quietly sipping his tea while Harry dozed. He thought about all the little instances Harry had…well, tugged at his heart. He thought of how Harry could say things that would leave Severus feeling slightly off kilter and gave him pause to think.

He recalled that presence that had come to stay with him after he was injured last October and then today, the flood of relief that had washed through him when Harry swallowed the antidote.

Severus realized what was happening. It was unsettling, and the part of him that dictated personal isolation suggested it would be best to distance himself from the teen. But his slowly awakening heart had a different opinion.

He recalled how it had felt to have Harry's love and protection be a part of him, even though it had been with him for only a brief amount of time.

He has no one to do the same for him, he thought. And the old guilt for his actions that had inadvertently led to the deaths of James and Lily resurfaced and washed over him.

If I could only turn back time.

But he knew he couldn't do that. James and Lily were dead. Their son had saved Severus' life and in that process had unintentionally awakened his heart.

All his life Severus had isolated himself from others, but perhaps it was time to change that, at least make an effort to reach out and help Lily's son.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

16. Sorting Things Out

Severus grabbed hold of the door knob and paused.

He had a choice. Right now, on this side of the door he had a choice. But once he turned the knob and walked into that room, his life would be in the hands of a deranged wizard.

The Dark Lord was certain to be livid, upset at the very least. So the foreboding silence emanating from the other side of the door made Severus uneasy. He had no way of knowing what might greet him when he entered this room.

Before, no one would have cared if he lived or died except for Albus. But now…

Pushing all of that from his mind, Severus drew a deep breath, occluded his mind, closed off his soul — and turned the knob.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Neville inspected the clothing he’d packed to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Then he fastened the two buckles to secure the valise and had just reached for his Mimbulus Mimbletonia when he heard the door open behind him.

He whirled around and his heart sank when he saw Harry staring at him from the doorway of the sixth year boy’s dorm.

“Harry, I was trying to leave before you got here.”

“But we need to talk.”

Neville lowered his head in embarrassment. He knew that Harry was right and that he, Neville needed to apologize. But he was ashamed of himself for not having the courage to go find Harry, to look him in the eye and beg his forgiveness.

“Please,” continued Harry as he closed the door, “I want to apologize.”

Neville’s head snapped up and he looked to Harry in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘apologize’?  I’m the one who needs to apologize to you.”

Harry shook his head. “No Neville. Don’t you see?” He walked across the room. “You and your grandmother were hurt because of me.”

“You’re not making any sense Harry,” Neville was completely baffled. ”I’m the one who hurt you! Thank goodness the Headmaster stopped me in time.”

Neville’s words confirmed to Harry what the Headmaster had told him that morning. That in order to protect Snape’s façade as a Death Eater, Dumbledore had Obliterated Neville’s memory of his encounter with Snape the previous morning.

Harry felt guilty at having to lie to his friend, but there was no choice. “Yeah, I know…but Neville, it wasn’t your fault. It was the Death Eaters. They used you to get to me.”

“Yeah… and they picked me because I’m weak and stupid.”

“Oh Neville,” Harry said with a sigh. “You’re not stupid.”

He moved over to Neville’s bed and sank down on to the mattress. “You’re plenty smart; you just don’t have much confidence in yourself,” he said, then rested his forehead on the palms of his hands.

“You were hurt because of me, and I’m sorry for that,” he continued. “I’m just grateful you didn’t end up dead like my parents and Sirius… and Cedric. Or like what happened to...”

Harry couldn’t finish the sentence.

Neville stared down at his upset friend. He hadn’t even considered the scenario from this perspective.

Neville placed the valise back down on the floor and sat next to Harry. “Look, I know I don’t have any right to say this…”

“You have every right to say whatever you want, Neville. Just go ahead and say it.” Harry had assumed that Neville was about to agree with him: that it was he who was the root cause of what happened.

“You’re not the one that caused all those deaths, or what happened to…Anthony.” Neville said the name softly. “All of that happened because of You Know Who, not you.”

The two young men sat quietly for a while, side by side upon the bed. “I thought that with me staying in the castle no one else would get hurt,” Harry said in a thin, soft voice. “But it’s not working out that way.”

The fact that Snape had been summoned that morning didn’t make matters any better.

“After what happened to,” he tipped his head and shrugged his shoulder instead of saying Anthony’s name, “I know I can never get involved with anyone else. I can never put anyone in that kind of danger ever again.”

Harry began worrying his fingers. “But now he’s coming after my friends and I don’t know how to stop him.”

Sitting next to Harry, listening as he spoke of the enormous burden weighing on him, Neville’s worries of what people might think of him after the news of this incident got out seemed rather small and insignificant.

“Harry, why does all of this have to be on your shoulders? Why can’t someone find a way to help?”

“Dumbledore has tried…”

“Well, maybe he needs to try harder,” Neville said and his voice sounded uncharacteristically emphatic.

He hated seeing Harry so distraught over something beyond his control. His concern inspired Neville to see beyond his own dilemma and want to reach out to help, and somehow in the process, the terrible guilt that had weighed upon him seemed to lighten.

“Listen, I’m Flooing out of the Headmaster’s office in just a bit; why don’t you come with me and ask him for help.”

Harry smiled at Neville’s innocence. “That’s a really good idea Neville,” he placated, “but I’m supposed to go see Madame Pomfrey in a few minutes.”

The alarmed look on Neville’s face spurred Harry to explain.

“She just wants to give me the once over. You know how she is.”

“Oh. Yeah, I know.”

“But I’ll definitely talk to Dumbledore this week.”

“Good.” Neville smiled then stood up, “Well, I have to get going.”

It was only then that Harry actually noticed the packed valise. “Wait a minute, where are you going?”

“Home,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “The Healers are releasing Gran this morning and she wants me to come home for the rest of the break.”

“Are you guys going to be okay though?”

“Don’t worry Harry. The Ministry assigned us a couple of Aurors to guard our house. We’ll be fine.” 

Neville went to pick up his bag but paused and turned back to face Harry. “So we’re okay…you and I?”

Harry stood up. “Yeah Neville, we’re okay.” He raised his arm and gave Neville a gentle one-handed shove.

Neville grabbed his stuff, walked over to the door and then called back, “Well, have a nice Easter.”

Yeah…right. “You too. Say ‘Hi’ to your Gran for me.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

That afternoon Harry lay upon his bed taking it easy, as per Madame Pomfrey’s orders, and studied the treatise Channon had given him, A Practical Guide to Concurrent Spell Casting.

Above him floated various objects belonging to his dorm mates. The ceiling was laden with Quidditch Weekly magazines, dirty socks, textbooks and the like.

The first chapter dealt solely on multiple castings of a single spell. Harry had chosen an easy charm, Wingardium Leviosa.

He had no problem casting the simple charm multiple times and was actually enjoying himself. So he attempted to see if he could cast another type of charm while still maintaining what he’d already cast.  

He broke off another chunk of the chocolate Easter egg from Mrs. Weasley (which had finally arrived and was certified as ‘safe for consumption’ by Dumbledore) and eyed Ron’s pillow. Silently and without his wand, he performed a Summoning Charm.

Nothing. The pillow sat scrunched up at the head of Ron’s bed.

“Damn.”

He picked up his wand and tried it again, but still silently.

Again, the pillow just sat there.

“What the hell?”

He huffed and then tried it again, but this time he incanted the charm verbally.

“Accio.”

The pillow flew across the room and Harry had to grab it so that it didn’t smack him in the face. At that very moment, Fawkes suddenly appeared over his bed in a flash of light.

The disruption of the pillow and the appearance of the Phoenix combined, caused Harry to lose his concentration and all of the previously floating objects came crashing to the floor.

Beating his wings, the large scarlet Familiar hovered over Harry’s bed, watching as the objects rained down around him.  

“I was practicing,” Harry offered defensively.

Without further adieu, the Fawkes dropped the letter he held in his talons and then disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.

God, he must think I’m a dolt.

Harry snatched up the letter and tore back the flap.

I wonder why he wants to see me?

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Minutes later Harry was climbing up the spiral staircase. All the way over from Gryffindor Tower he’d grown increasingly anxious over the possibility that something else may have happened.

He knocked softly on the office door.

“Enter.”

Harry peered around the corner of the door, checking to see if any officials might be lurking on the other side.

“Ah Harry, do come in,” Dumbledore said in a cheery voice.

“Hello Harry,” came a familiar voice had come from the far left side of the office.

 Harry startled and turned to stare aghast at the unexpected sight of Remus.

“How are you feeling?” he asked in that soft spoken voice of his.

Harry was too shocked to respond.

“Nothing to say?”

“I…What are you doing here?” Harry responded bluntly.

Remus recoiled slightly.

“Come in and have a seat Harry,” Dumbledore steered the young man over to a chair. “Would you like some tea?”

“Okay Sir.”

Remus offered some attempts at light conversation, but his questions and remarks received only one worded answers from Harry. Giving up, he turned to Dumbledore who had returned with Harry’s tea, and proceeded to deliver his report.

Harry sat sipping his tea as he listened to Remus discuss what he’d been doing for the Order over the past few months. Apparently Remus actually had been traveling quite a bit and all of his activities needed to be kept quiet as he’d been working on securing alliances with a few of the less popular societies of magical creatures.

After listening to the two wizards for over an hour, Harry realized that indeed it would have been impossible for Remus to come and visit. And as the tea slowly drained from Harry’s cup, the resentment that had built up within him eased.

When Harry began to engage in the conversation, Dumbledore excused himself from the room, claiming he had another matter which needed his attention.

Harry and Remus continued their conversation, and even though Harry wasn’t angry at Remus, he still felt that a chasm now existed between them.  So much had happened over the past year, not to mention all the other critical episodes in Harry’s life since the death of his parents, and whatever the reason was, Remus happened to never be there.

“So Harry, what are your plans for the remainder of the school term?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Well, just school and Quidditch I guess.”

“And how are you doing these days with regards to…” Remus made a small gesture but didn’t finish the sentence.

“To what?”

“You know … dating.”

Harry quickly looked down and his features tensed. “I’m not,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s all right. I just don’t have time for that sort of thing.”

They sat in silence as the mantle clock ticked away the seconds. Remus was frustrated at himself for his blunder and Harry just wished this little chat would be over with.

“How about your training? Do you like Professor Jackson?”

“He’s great. He’s taught me a lot.”

Again, the silence.

“Such as?”

“Um, we’ve done silent spells and wandless spells.” Harry started pulling at the knee of his trousers. “After this break we’ll start working on casting simultaneous spells. You know, stuff like that.”

Remus grinned at Harry's nonchalant attitude with regards to his magical abilities.

“That’s very impressive Harry. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Harry definitely did not want the conversation to go down this track, so he quickly changed the subject.

“So how long are you here for?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave as soon as I collect my new supply of Wolfsbane potion.

Harry’s heart sank right down to the floor. So that’s why you came. “Oh.” I should have known he wouldn’t have come all this way just to see me.

“Speaking of which,” Remus rose from his chair, “I wonder if Severus has returned?”

“He has indeed,” Albus responded as he stepped from the Floo, “and he is waiting for you in his lab.”

Remus offered his farewells to Dumbledore and Harry, shook their hands and then departed.

Harry walked over to the tall window, set down his cup and stared out to the lake.

“Are you all right my boy?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah,” his tone of voice was unconvincing. “Is Professor Snape okay?”

“He is indeed. And might I add his meeting with Voldemort was quite illuminating.”

Grateful for the change in subject, Harry turned enthusiastically. “It was?”

“Very much so.” Dumbledore sat down and patted his hand upon the settee inviting the young wizard to sit down next to him.

“Harry, are you aware of any connection between yourself and Voldemort?”

This change of subject was more then Harry had anticipated. “A connection? You mean my scar?”

“No, not your scar.”

Harry was at a loss. “Uh, no. Not that I know of.”

Dumbledore leaned back and lightly brushed away a tiny piece of lint from his lavender robe. “Have you experienced any nightmares or headaches since the night of Samhain?”

“No sir. You know that.”

“I want to be certain of the facts.”

“But why sir? What’s this all about?”

“Apparently,” Dumbledore angled himself a bit more in Harry’s direction, “ever since your counter attack upon Voldemort last October, he hasn’t been himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that the attacks on the Embassies never resumed.”

“Yeah, of course I did. Who wouldn’t? But I thought that maybe he was doing some other stuff.”

“Well, the other stuff as you put it, has been relatively minor in comparison.  And now today when Professor Snape met with him…”

“Did something happen?” Harry asked a bit anxiously.

“Nothing happened, per say. It was the lack of response from Voldemort that Professor Snape found surprising.”

“You mean about what happened yesterday.”

The Headmaster nodded.

“So?” Harry pressed.

“Tell me Harry, what would you have expected his response to be?”

“I’d of thought he’d be really angry.”

“As would I.”

“But he wasn’t?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Professor Snape described Voldemort’s attitude as dispirited. ”

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“My feelings exactly.”

Dumbledore started bobbing his foot up and down and Harry watched the tassel of the plum colored shoe bounce around from the motion.

“So what do you think it all means sir?” he asked, still watching the tassel.

“I believe Harry that your counter attack had a profound affect on Tom. I don’t fully understand the situation, but no doubt a situation does exist.”

“Wow.”

“There is another topic which we need to discuss.”

That statement put Harry on guard. “What?”

“In my discussions with Mr. Longbottom, he informed me that he tried several times to coerce you into leaving the castle. Is that true?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you didn’t find that strange?”

“But it was Neville,” Harry pleaded. “Don’t get me wrong; he’s my friend and all that, but Neville’s a little um … weird.” Harry ducked his head slightly.

“Ah yes. Well, never the matter — in the future Harry you must be on your guard. Report any odd behavior from any of the students or faculty.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Be wary if someone hands you something to touch or offers you food to partake.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry answered contritely. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You have no need to apologize. And mind you, I do not wish for you to become paranoid; you simply must be on your guard.”

“The charm is still in affect, right Sir?”

“That it is. You cannot be taken past the wards against your will. But that doesn’t prevent someone from trying to Port Key you out, or as in Mr. Longbottom’s case — from drugging you. The only one who would suffer in either case would be you, I’m afraid.”

Harry entertained the thought of a Port Key slamming him into Dumbledore’s protective ward.

“Let’s just consider this a lesson learned and move forward.”

“Okay Sir.”

Dumbledore stood up. “I don’t know about you, but I am quite hungry. Shall we walk down for dinner?”

Harry was surprised at the invitation. “Yes Sir, thank you.” It had been a long afternoon and now that Harry thought about it, he was quite hungry.

“Oh, by the way, how are you progressing with you assignment from Professor Jackson?”

“Really good. That multiple casting stuff is kind of fun.”

“I had a feeling that would be the case,” Dumbledore responded as he went to open the door. “That is why I’ve asked Professor Snape if he will work with you this week, in Professor Jackson’s absence.”

“Oh … okay.” 

He would have thought he’d been horrified at such a prospect, but with all the events that had happened this year: Snape apologizing, working with Harry on his shield, giving him that amulet and then all he did to help Harry only yesterday; the thought of working with Snape on Defense skills actually sounded kind of intriguing.

Harry didn’t know much about Snape, not really; the man was so private. But he had opened up a little this year and from what he had learned, Harry was beginning to think that there might be more to his professor than he had realized.

Anthony had been the only person Harry had ever confided in, regarding his affinity for roses. And now to discover that of all people, Snape also liked roses. Harry wasn’t certain what to think about that, except it told him that Snape must have a gentle side to him, somewhere.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

17. Change of Tide

“Good job!” Channon hopped off the table and popped another Bertie Botts Bean into his mouth. “Really Harry, that was quite impressive. It would seem Professor Snape didn’t give me the full story.”

“What did he say?” Harry felt suddenly defensive.

“Only that you made progress.”

“That was it?”

Channon nodded. “I would say you made great progress.”

“Thanks,” Harry sighed.

“Is everything all right? Did something happen between you two?”

“Oh no, it’s just…” Harry fished, “It’s just that I worked really hard over break to try and get this multicasting thing down.”

Channon appraised Harry discerningly. He was holding something back, but Channon decided not to press the matter. “I wouldn’t say you’ve mastered multicasting…”

“I know. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Come on, let’s get back to it.” Channon turned Harry to face the center of the room. “You’re doing well with multiple charms and combining charms and jinxes. How about you multicast a couple of regular spells and we’ll add a jinx and one hex.”

Harry started. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. Let’s see…” Channon stared up toward the ceiling and tapped his chin. “What would be a good hex?”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

As Harry stood in the Room of Requirement getting ready to cast his spells, Severus was on his knees back in the Voldemort’s drawing room waiting his turn to be summoned.

Just as he had the previous fall, the Dark Lord was holding sessions with his Death Eaters. But unlike the previous time when he’d met with each one individually, tonight he summoned them in small groups.

Again, Severus was the last one called and as it turned out, he was the only Death Eater to be called individually. He kept his head lowered as he went to kneel before the Dark Lord.

“No Severus, come sit next to me.”

Severus sat down in a nearby chair and thought how the Dark Lord’s voice still sounded weak.

“Look at me,” ordered Voldemort.

Severus hesitated a moment but then he lifted his gaze.. 

“Do I appear any different to you?”

“No, my Lord.”

Voldemort lifted one corner of his mouth in a teasing smile and then casually waved his hand across his face, cancelling the Glamour.

Severus hid his surprise at the sight which now greeted him. “My Lord, you are not well.”

“You are mistaken, Severus,” Voldemort retorted, despite his sunken cheeks, pallid complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. “I have been ill, but I am improving. Can you guess my ailment?”

“Does this have anything to do with Potter?”

“Partially.”

All this time Severus had thought that the Dark Lord was experiencing something akin to what he himself had been experiencing. But if that was the case, the Dark Lord would surely never divulge such a fact that Harry’s counterattack was wrecking havoc on him. No, this had to be something else.

“This all started with Samhain?”

“Yes.”

All of those attacks upon the embassies thought Severus. Afterward he’d been bed ridden for days and had obviously struggled now for months… “Burnout?”

Voldemort nodded. “Very good. Not total burnout mind you, but it was a severe case.”

“My Lord, is there anything I can do to help?”

Voldemort raised a hand. “I am much improved. Besides, you know as well as I… the only cure for burnout is rest. But I’ve grown tired with this quietude, and thus the impetus for my little gathering this evening.”

"And what is it my Lord requires of me?”

“Your only task is to continue making the potions I request, that… and to keep an eye on Potter.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Voldemort seemed to take an interest in the carvings of the wooden chair handle and he traced his finger along its edges as he spoke. “Even though Dumbledore is keeping the boy under his wing, there is always the possibility for error.”

“And you want me to be ready for such an occurrence.”

The red eyes peered at Severus, “Yes, that is exactly what I want. I intend to do away with that boy and I shall succeed. But I am finished wasting my every waking moment preoccupied with his activities. I will leave that to you and to the others who have been assigned the same task. Do I make myself clear?”

Severus returned the peer with an equal hardness.  “Perfectly my Lord…perfectly.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Tonks stood up from the Pensive and gave a huff as she pushed her orange hair back into place.

“Well?” asked Arthur.

“Not a clue. Never seen the likes before.”

Dumbledore Accio’d the Pensive to him and then set about retrieving Severus’s memory. “Well, this is a puzzle.”

“How is it possible that not one of us knows where this place is?”

“The world’s a big place my dear,” stated Mad-eye.

“But Severus said he thought it must be on the island,” countered Molly.

“Apparation and Portkey travel times can be misleading,” added Shacklebolt. “This place could be in France, Germany or Ireland for that matter.”

All the members of the Order sitting around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place sighed in unison.  

“I suppose we’re back to square one,” Albus surmised with dejection. “We’ll just have to hope that another opportunity presents itself to Severus.”

“This is so frustrating, and I’m worried about these assignments You Know Who gave to the Death Eaters,” Molly added as she began clearing away the empty tea cups. “What do you think he’s up to now?”

“At least we’ve made good progress with the new Muggle Diplomatic Relations policy,” chimed Arthur. “That should be of help if he tries anything like he did last October.”

“With Tom’s current condition, he’ll be unable to assist the Death Eaters in whatever their assignment is,” critiqued Albus. “No, I believe whatever he has planned — it will be a focused attack, be it on a single place or a single individual.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“We’re going to clobber Slytherin.”

“Ron, you’re going to jinx us talking like that,” reprimanded Harry as he crawled into bed.

“No way, Harry. You guys have it all over those snakes” Seamus exclaimed. “There’s nothing anyone could say that would jinx you guys.”

“I agree with Harry,” added Dean as he turned out his light.  “It’s tempting fate.”

Harry glanced over when the door pened and Neville slipped quietly into the room.

Everyone had turned out their lights now except for Neville, and he quickly set about getting ready to retire for the night.

It didn’t help matters any that the Headmaster had addressed the entire student body upon their return, warning them to be on their guard lest they fall into a similar situation. Or that each Head of House had held meetings with their houses to go over precautionary measures in an attempt to avoid becoming the next instrument for the Death Eaters. Or that Professor Jackson had spent an entire week with each DADA class, third year and over, reviewing the Imperius Curse, Portkey operations and the like.

It all culminated to shed a continued spotlight on Neville who in turn was trying to remain as scarce as possible.

“Good night Neville,” Harry called over when he saw the light go out.

“Oh, you too Harry. Good night everyone.”

“Goodnight Nev,” they responded in unison.

Harry smiled to himself as he rolled onto his side. He was pleased and relieved at how supportive everyone had been toward Neville. I guess it’ll just take time for Nev to get over it.   

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Unlike Ron had predicted Gryffindor was not ‘clobbering’ Slytherin in their last game of the season. No, the game was turning out to be one of those on the edge of your seat, nail-biter sort of a games and the score had been neck-and-neck for over three hours now.

All the action thus far had centered upon the Chasers, the Beaters and the Keepers and each of them were playing at the top of their game.

But while all of this activity played out below and the minutes ticked into hours, Harry and Draco never let up with their own job of trying to find the Snitch. Even though neither had an opportunity to score, it was imperative that they keep tabs on its whereabouts — just in case an opportunity presented itself.

That opportunity came three and a half hours into the match.

Gryffindor scored when Blaise Zabini missed blocking one of Katie’s hits and then before he could recover, Jack Sloper’s missed-hit Bludger glanced off the Slytherin’s shoulder allowing Alicia’s Quaffle to get by.

Gryffindor was now up by forty points.

Then, when Vaisey tried blatching Katie, Slytherin was penalized ten points for the foul and Harry shifted gears.

He had just seen the Snitch when the foul occurred, so he took off as fast as he could to fly across the pitch. The Snitch was hovering right at the top of the center Slytherin hoop.

He chose a direct path, but he had to fly through enemy territory to get there. His one advantage was speed. No one could fly as fast as Harry. Hell, at this speed it was a challenge to even keep him in sight.

Draco saw the Snitch a moment after Harry had and tried as best he could to catch him, but it was impossible.

Harry whipped past the hoop and grabbed the Snitch, thus ending the game and securing the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and boos. Hermione grabbed Neville, who’d been sitting next to her, and gave him a kiss on the lips. She then started to jump up and down in her joy, while a stunned Neville placed his fingers tentatively upon his lips.

The entire team circled around Harry and they slowly lowered themselves to the ground, relishing in their accomplishment and drinking in the sounds of jubilation pouring out from the stands.   

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Harry, will you hurry the fuck up! We want to get up to the party.”

“You guys go on. Neville will walk up with me, right Nev?”

“Sure Harry.”

“Oh all right,” replied Ron. “But hurry up.”

Ron and Dean left to walk up to the castle, leaving Harry and Neville in the Gryffindor changing room.

“You okay there Nev?” asked Harry as he toweled his hair dry. “You look a little odd.”

Neville had been running his fingers along his lips. “I’m okay. It’s just… Oh, it’s nothing.”

“No, tell me. What were you going to say?”

“You promise you won’t laugh?”

Harry sat down next to Neville and pulled on one of his shoes. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

“Well, right after you caught the Snitch … everyone got really excited.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Harry had finished lacing up one shoe and started to pull on the other.

“Anyway, with all the excitement, Hermione …  She… Well…”

“Just say it already, will you?”

“She kissed me!”

Harry turned and stared at Neville. He wasn’t sure if he should lie and congratulate Neville, or be honest. He chose to be honest.

“Hey there Nev, you know that Ron and…”

“Oh don’t worry Harry. I know Hermione and Ron are a couple. It’s just that… well, that’s the first time a girl has ever kissed me. I didn’t think any of them would ever want to.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Come on Harry. It’s not like I’m you.”

“You must be thinking of someone else. Besides, there are plenty of girls that like you.”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

“Luna Lovegood,” Harry said emphatically.

“Luna?”

“Yeah, Luna.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause she looks at you Nev, all the time.”

“Really?”

“You’re so blinkered.” He gave Neville a friendly shove. “Come on, let’s head on up. We’ll stop by Ravenclaw and invite her to the party.”

“Uh … I don’t know Harry.”

“It’ll be fine. The worse she can say is ‘no’.”

“Oh well, all right. But wait just a minute, I gotta loo.”

“Take your time.” Harry proceeded to shove his things in his rucksack while Neville headed off to the loo.

As Neville was just finishing up, he heard a commotion out in the locker room. Harry called out, there was some wand fire and then a crashing sound.

Neville thought his heart may have skipped a beat, but he managed to pull out his wand and tip toe quietly to the lavatory entrance. He peeked around the corner and saw Harry lying unconscious upon the floor, above him stood a man Neville had never seen before. Then, the stranger pulled an object from his pocket and went to lay it on top of Harry’s chest. Neville sprang into action.

“Stupify!”

The stranger went flying backwards and landed in a heap next to the lockers.

Shocked that he’d managed to actually hit his target, Neville ran to Harry and shook his shoulder.

“Harry?  Wake up.”

Harry was totally out and he had a wound right over his temple.

Neville thought about running to the door to call for help, but what if there was an accomplice waiting out there.

I’m gonna do it cause’ Harry need help! Neville thought determinately.

He took a deep breath and even though she was shaking, he walked over to the door and opened it just a crack. When he didn’t see anyone, he opened it a bit more.

Neville knew he needed to think of something happy, so he thought about how wonderful it felt when Hermione had kissed him. He pointed his wand and called out, “Expecto Patronum!”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Albus, will you please do something about the crowd outside the doors? They’re making too much noise.”

Dumbledore was standing at the side of Harry’s bed. “Of course, Poppy.”

He patted the teen’s shoulder then moved off toward the infirmary entrance. The Headmaster was upset that, once again, Harry had come to harm here on Hogwarts grounds. I must find a way to prevent these occurrences, he charged himself.

“Madame Pomfrey, can’t I please just go? I’m okay,” pleaded Harry.

“You stay right where you are Mr. Potter, or I’ll place a binding blanket on you.”

Defeated, Harry sighed and laid his head down upon the pillow. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Don’t fret Harry,” Channon said softly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s probably best you let her keep an eye on you … just to be on the safe side.”

Harry raised a hand to his aching forehead. “I can’t believe this happened. What good is multicasting when someone can sneak up from behind and Stupify me.”

“That has to do with strategy, a totally different subject.”

“Uh oh, what are you planning now?” asked Harry.

Channon smiled. “How did you know I…”

“You were doing that squinting thing,” Harry interrupted. “That always means you’re coming up with something new for me to learn.”

His professor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So? What is it?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow after class, that is if Madame Pomfrey releases you.”

“I hope so.  I really hate …” his sentence was interrupted as he yawned, “staying in here.”

“Looks like you better get some sleep.” Channon stood up and turned to see Albus approach with Neville at his side.

“Harry, there’s someone who wants to be certain that you are all right,” the Headmaster announced.

“You okay?” asked Neville.

“Yeah, I’m okay. If it wasn’t for you …” Harry yawned again, “I’d probably be splattered all over the wards.”

“I doubt you would havesplattered, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore smiled.

“Anyway, thanks Neville,” Harry said softly. He really was geting sleepy.

“I was only able to help cause of everything you taught us in DA.”

Harry smiled but drifted off before he could say anything else.

“You showed true courage tonight, Mr. Longbottom,” said Dumbledore.

“Thank you, sir.” Neville looked down, “But…”

“But what?”

“Sir, I wasn’t brave tonight. I was scared." His voice quavered a bit, “I just didn’t want Harry to get hurt.”

“Mr. Longbottom, one is courageous when one demonstrates bravery despite their fear.”

Dumbledore placed his hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Please look at me, Mr. Longbottom.”

Neville raised his eyes. “Yes sir?”

“You saved Harry’s life tonight. I thank you and I honor you for your courage.”

Neville could hardly believe the Headmaster had just said that to him and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. But at the same time he felt a rare sense of pride.

~~~~~SH~~~~

Author's note:

Neville did not have a Patronus in canon, but he had to have one for this chapter so I did some research to find out what his character symbolized. (There's a wonderful website that discusses this very topic: www.harrypotterforseekers).

Apparently, Neville's character symbolizes the Gatekeeper. Now I needed an animal that symbolizes a Gatekeeper, and that is how I came up with a peacock. There is a Muslim legend in which the peacock is the Gatekeeper for paradise. I like the idea that Nevill would have such a beatuiful Patronus.

SHaria 

8. Guarded Questions

The porcelain cup rattled on its saucer as Severus carried it over to the small wooden table in his kitchen.

He’d intended to drink the Ceylon tea he’d just brewed, but instead he sat down and simply stared at the hot drink as memories of the previous day and night preoccupied his mind.

It turned out that Harry’s attacker was the father of the reserve Chaser on the Slytherin team. Acting under the Imperius Curse, he had used the game as a cover to gain access to his intended victim.

This marked the second time this school term that the house of Slytherin had been tarnished.

Added to all of that, Severus had experienced another nightmare but this time when he heard the scream and ran out of his room, he found himself standing in the Dursley’s front hallway and then watched in horror as Harry tumbled down the stairs and slammed into the wall.

He had awoken with a start, unsettled and perplexed. These continual nightmares of when he was a child now coupled with concern for Harry’s well being had Severus at a loss.

He ground his teeth in frustration. What in Merlin’s name is happening to me?

Severus? Are you up? Hello? Oh Sever…”

“Of course I’m up!” He snapped back. “I’m teaching a class soon, you old fool.”

Unruffled by the acidic greeting, Albus stepped gracefully from the Floo. “Is something amiss?”

All Albus got for his query was a snarl; so he left Severus to his foul mood, walked straight toward the kitchen and poured himself a cup tea. “Might you have any vanilla?”

“Merlin’s sake Albus,” Severus rubbed his aching forehead. “How can you do that to a perfectly good cup of tea?”

“Have you ever tried it?”

Severus sighed in defeat. “Spice rack, top shelf.”

Dumbledore doctored his tea then joined his grumpy friend at the tiny wooden table, looking expectantly to him.

“What?” snapped Severus.

“Please save the dramatics for those who do not know you,” returned Dumbledore.

With Voldemort, with the students and with the Death Eaters, Severus always had to be on his guard — but not with Albus. He was the one person who truly knew Severus.

“I slept poorly,” was all he replied.

Albus knew best not to press the matter. He took a sip of his tea then got to business. “I need your help. We need your help.”

“And who might we be?”

“Humanity,” Dumbledore said simply.

Severus leaned back in his chair and stared at the old wizard, “You’re talking about Harry.”

Dumbledore gave a slight nod. He waited and watched Severus as he took a sip of tea, biding his time before responding.

“You believe he’s old enough to look at his situation objectively,” Severus’ question sounded more like a confirmation.

“I do.” Dumbledore leaned forward. “And there is only so much that I…that we can do to protect him. Obviously, they aren’t enough.”

Severus knew the old man was right, but this would mean more private time spent with Harry. “You are just as knowledgeable in tactics and strategy as am I.”

“But you are far more skilled in their practical application.”

Dumbledore’s assessment was valid and Severus knew it.

“Why do you hesitate? I thought you and Harry were getting along well these days.”

“We are, it’s just that…” He paused midsentence, unable to give voice to something he could barely even acknowledge: that he cared about Harry. “I too want Harry to survive, and not because of his destiny.” He pushed the empty cup away, “I’ll work with him.”

“Thank you.” Dumbledore stood up and headed for the Floo.

“Albus, what are your plans for Harry this summer? You can’t send him back to those Muggles, not now that you are aware of the abuse.”

Dumbledore turned back with a little smile, “Why Severus, is that a hint of concern I hear?”

On went the stony expression. “What good is it to prepare Harry to face the Dark Lord, only to have his Uncle lock him away and starve him over the summer?”

Dumbledore’s smile slipped from his face, “I haven’t made a decision yet where to send him, but he definitely won’t be going back to Privet Drive.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Bellatrix Apparated onto the front lawn of Malfoy manor then marched up to the front door.

It was locked.

“Sod all,” she huffed as she pulled out her wand. “Alohamora.”

The door opened and she stepped into the foyer.  “Cissy?” the dark haired witch called out as she walked toward the living room. “Where are you? Cis…”

“Bella,” Narcissa came to the top of the stairs, “What are you doing here?”

“Why did you lock your Floo?” Bellatrix snapped back. “I had to Apparate and walk through the front door like a commoner.”

“Whether or not we lock our front door,” Lucius spoke in his silky voice as he walked out of the master bedroom, “or our Floo is none of your concern.”

“Why hello Lucius,” the pitch of her voice sailed up and down across her greeting. “You’re looking rather pale,” she teased as she sauntered toward the base of the staircase. “Was it terrible in Azkaban?” she pined.

“You of all people would know.”

“Touché, brother in law.”

“You two stop it,” scolded Narcissa. “The others will be here shortly.”

“It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere. Is there any coffee?” Bella rambled as she headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. “I’ll need some if we’re to be planning mass escapes.”

“Oh Lucius,” Narcissa sighed as she leaned against his broad chest. “Why does this have to take place today? You need to rest and regain your strength.”

“I’ll be fine Cissy,” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Now that I’m home and out of that hellhole…”

“Don’t think of that place.” She reached up and kissed him. “Your home now and that’s all that matters.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Everyone at the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers and applause when Ron and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered for breakfast. They stood in the doorway for a few moments, drinking in the adoration before taking their places at the table.

 “Where’s Harry?” asked Dean when the team took their seats. “I thought you guys went to get him so you could all walk in together.”

“We did,” Ron replied. “But Pomfrey says he has to stay in the infirmary today.”

“She let us in to see him,” added Hermione. “But he was still asleep.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee then continued, “Madame Pomfrey said that everything was probably just catching up with him: the long game, getting Stupefied and especially the concussion.”

“Bugger that,” added Seamus. “He missed out on a great party.”

“Couldn’t we have another one when Harry’s feeling better?” asked Neville.

“Yeah, why not?” added Ginny. “We could have one this weekend.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Ron seconded enthusiastically. “I’ll see if the twins can come and bring some of their stuff. We’ll make it a real bash.”

They continued planning the party and started in on their breakfasts, everyone except for Hermione. She had received her copy of the Daily Prophet and was staring dumbfounded at the front page.

“How come you’re not eating, Mione?” asked Ron, his mouth now full of food.

“I don’t believe it.” She handed the paper to him and then snuck a peek at the Slytherin table to chance a glance of Draco.

He was sitting there looking smug while all his friends around him spoke in hushed whispers.

“For the love of…!” exclaimed Ron as he choked on his food. “How did he pull that off?”

“What are you on about?” asked Ginny.

“Lucius Malfoy was released from Azkaban, apparently over some technicality,” replied Hermione as Ron continued to read the article, the color of his face growing more flushed with each passing word.

“Technicality my foot,” said Ginny. “He got out because he paid somebody off.”

“Or perhaps it was because of something else,” Hermione said softly as she considered the two recent cases involving the Imperius Curse.

“The tosser!” exclaimed Ron.

“Mr. … Weasley!” Professor McGonagall isolated each word and spoke Ron’s name in a flat, stern voice.

“Oh, oh,” Ron stared at his eggs with sudden trepidation.

“What did I tell you about using vulgar language in public places?”

“Sorry Professor.”

Hermione glared at Ron and mouthed: Turn around and look at her.

Ron’s eyebrows shot up and he did a one eighty on the bench. “Professor, I’m really, really sorry I said that word. It’s just that…”

“I am not interested in your excuse,” She stared down and pursed her lips. “One more time and you’ll find yourself in detention. Do I make myself clear?”

Ron sagged, “Yes Ma’am.”

McGonagall gave a sharp sigh then straightened her hat. “Miss Granger, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Hermione started momentarily, “Of course Professor.” She hopped quickly up from the bench.

“What do you think she wants?” asked Ginny.

“Damned if I know,” replied Ron. He and everyone sitting near him leaned out over the bench to try and keep McGonagall and Hermione in their sights.

After a few moments, their attention was diverted when their DA coins grew warm and they all began to pull them out their pockets.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked Hermione when she returned.

“Listen,” she spoke with a hushed voice; they all huddled close to hear her. “There’s going to be a meeting at noon today for select members of the DA in the antechamber.”

“How can we have a DA meeting if Harry is in the infirmary?” asked Neville.

“Remember Neville, DA stands for Dumbledore’s Army.” She smiled like a Cheshire cat, “Dumbledore himself has requested this meeting.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry gasped as he woke suddenly from his dream.

“Ah Mr. Potter, you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

He looked up at the smiling face of Madame Pomfrey, feeling totally disorientated. “I …  Uh…”

“A bit foggy I see,” she resumed checking his readings. “Things could have been much worse considering the location of your injury.”

She stopped waving her wand then tapped the amulet lying upon Harry’s chest. “It was a good thing you were wearing this.”

“What do you mean,” he rubbed his sore head. “I still got hurt.”

“But not as badly as I would have expected.”

She put her wand away and sat down next to him. “You have a mild concussion, even though the injury is located right here,” She touched his left temple. “The bone here is very thin, so the injury to your brain should have been far worse. That amulet definitely saved you.”

“Oh,” He picked the amulet up and rubbed his finger over the intricate carvings. 

“Drink this, it will help with your headache.”

Harry swallowed the potion.

“I have a nice warm cup of tea waiting for you, right here.”

“But I need to get to my potions class.”

“Your potions class has already finished. It’s almost noon.”

He didn’t know if it was the concussion or the dream, but he felt totally dazed.

“You just lie there quietly and drink your tea. That potion should start to work shortly.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She got him propped up and placed numerous pillows behind him to lean against. When she walked off, Harry pulled his legs up close. He thought about the amulet and Snape, and then he remembered his dream.

How could I have dreamt that? Harry felt totally mortified with himself; he stared at the opposite wall while holding onto his cup of tea as if it were a lifejacket.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The small group of DA members fell silent when the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall walked into the Antechamber off the Great Hall.

Dumbledore had never addressed the DA directly, and the fact that he himself had called this meeting indicated the seriousness of its intent. “I wish to thank all of you for coming on such short notice.”

The students remained silent and expectant.

“Since our time is limited, I will get right to the point.” He scanned their faces and made eye contact with each one of them before continuing. “As you are well aware, there have been three incidents of attack upon Harry Potter this term.”

The students all nodded.

“We are taking steps to insure his safety, but obviously we have come up short.”

“Is there anything we can do to help, Sir?” asked Hermione.

“There are three weeks remaining until the summer break. I wish to ask each of you, as members of the DA, to be Harry’s body guard until this term ends.”

They all started chatting amongst themselves.

“We really appreciate this opportunity to help Sir,” offered Hermione.

“I know that all of us…” Ron looked around. “We’re all sick and tired of seeing Harry get hurt.”

“As am I, Mr. Weasley,” responded Dumbledore.

“And I,” added McGonagall.

“So, how do we go about doing this Sir?” asked Neville.

The Headmaster looked over to McGonagall, “Minerva?”

Professor McGonagall began passing out parchments to the members in attendance.

“Most of you share classes with Harry,” she spoke in her Scottish brogue. “I have taken the liberty of devising a schedule which would provide a minimum of two guards to be by his side throughout the day. Of course you are at liberty to modify this, but again — the goal is to have a minimum of two guards present at all times.”

“What about this summer?” asked Hermione.

“For his own safety, I have decided that Mr. Potter will stay here at the castle. Aside from him, there will be a handful of professors. Furthermore, he will be learning new skills over the summer that should help him to better protect himself next term.”

  The noise level in the room dropped as each student studied their individual parchment.

Dumbledore stood up from his chair. “So, may I depend upon you to carry out this task?”

They all stood in unison and answered in a jumble of like responses, “Of course Sir.” “Anything we can do to help Harry.” “You can count on us!” 

“I have one more request.”

He waited until they had quieted and were paying attention. “As you all know, Harry dislikes being the center of attention. So if you will, please try to carry out your duties without fanfare.”

“You can count on us, Sir.” assured Ron.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The DA kept close tabs on Harry that week, escorting him to and from classes, down to meals then back up to the tower, in essence making sure that he was never alone.

They’d all noticed that Harry wasn’t quite himself. He seemed continually preoccupied and slightly dazed. Chalking up his odd behavior to the concussion, no one thought anything of it.

Harry may have felt dazed, but it wasn’t because of any bump on the head.

On Friday afternoon, Harry, Ron and Hermione hiked up to the seventh floor after their charms class had finished and had just reached the door past the Gargoyle when Harry turned to face them.

 “Listen, you two don’t have to wait out here for an hour. I’ll be fine.”

“Harry Potter, we’re staying right here — so save your breath.”

Harry shook his head and sighed as Ron stepped forward and knocked on the door.

“Come in Harry.”

 Ron shrugged uncomfortably but Hermione gave him a little shove. “Go on.”

He opened the door and poked his head in.

“Why if it isn’t Ron Weasley,” Helena stood and walked over to greet him. “I haven’t seen you since last summer.”

“Hello Healer Swanson.”

“Please, call me Helena. But where is Harry? Is he all right?”

“I’m right here,” snapped Harry from out in the hallway.

“Helena,” continued Ron, “I need to make certain that you’re the only person in this room.”

“Oh,” she said with surprise. “Be my guest.” She stood back and allowed Ron to inspect the room.

Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear, “You guys are taking this too far.”

“We are not!” she hissed back at him.

“Everything looks fine, you can come in.”

Harry walked in and glared at Ron as he walked out.

After the door closed, Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the door, dropping his bag on the floor. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Come over here and sit down.”

He pushed off from the door and plopped himself down in the chair.

“Quite a bit has happened to you since we last met,” she said in a casual voice.

“Helena … you have no idea.”

“Are you talking about the attack?”

“No, I’m not.” Harry stood up and began pacing around the room. “And it’s not all this stupid guarding me business either!”

The china tea service sitting on the sideboard shattered suddenly.

“Harry, calm down … and do it right now,” commanded Helena.

He cringed at her panicked tone of voice. “Are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said reassuringly, but her eyes wide with unease. “Why don’t you come and sit down.” 

“He waved his hand and cast ‘Reparo’ as he walked back and slumped again into the chair. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“It was an accident. Don’t worry about it. But tell me … what has you in such a state?”

“It’s hard to put into words,” he said through a sigh.

“Well then, just pick one. Pick one word to describe what you are feeling.”

Harry hated it when she made him do this, but truth be told it did help him make sense of things. “I guess it would be … betrayal.”

“Who betrayed you?”

“No, it’s me. I’m the one betraying!”

“Does this have something to do with Anthony?”

Harry sagged and nodded his head. “I had this dream …” He fidgeted for a bit, “Um, the person I was with … well, he wasn’t Anthony.”   

“I see. And why does this make you feel betrayal.”

Harry stared at her in disbelief. “Because Anthony has no life! He’s laying there like a vegetable and I should …  I shouldn’t …”

“You shouldn’t what? Ever have feelings for someone else?”

Harry dropped his gaze.

“You shouldn’t ever fall in love again or be intimate with someone?”

He grit his teeth, trying to hold back the tears. “I feel like I’m betraying him.”

Helena set her pen and paper down and leaned forward. “You have been informed as to his clinical condition.”

“Yes,” his acknowledgement was barely audible.

“So you know that he will never wake up, and there is a strong possibility that he will succumb to secondary complications.”

“I know all of that.” Harry wiped a tear away that had slipped past his lashes. “But how can I feel,” he shrugged, “that way about someone else when Anthony is going though all of that? It’s not right.”

Helena sat quietly for a moment, deciding how best to proceed. “What if the roles were reversed? What if it was you lying in that coma? How would you want Anthony to live the remainder of his life?”

“His Mom said something like that to me last year.”

“So? What would you want?”

“I’d want Anthony to be happy,” another tear slid down his cheek. “I’d want him to love again.”

“This will take time Harry,” Helena consoled him, “and we’ll continue to talk about it as you work through all of this.”

“Okay,” he sighed.

“So, is there someone…?”

“No, not really; I just … have these feelings.”

“Believe it or not, that’s a healthy sign.”

He started to contradict her but Helena raised her hand, “Let me finish.”

“Sorry.”

“I know that part of you is feeling guilty, but your subconscious and your physical self are healing and moving on.”

“It just doesn’t seem right,” he repeated softly.

“My advice for you is to take this one day at a time. Don’t try to analyze your feelings; just let them happen.”

“I’ll try.” He felt empty as he looked out the window and repeated her words softly, “One day at a time.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

19. Summer Surprises

“So when’s the wedding?” Harry asked as he levitated another load books into the awaiting box. 

“Next month,” Channon stopped his packing for a moment to look at the teen. “I wish you could come; if things were only different…”

“I understand Channon — it’s too risky.” Harry looked around the nearly empty office. “Just send me a postcard from your honeymoon, will you?”

“You can count on it.”

“Wow, Jamaica,” Harry resumed levitating the last few books from off the top shelf. “I can’t even imagine going somewhere like Jamaica.”

“Me too, I can hardly wait.”

“That’s the last of them.” Harry hopped off the table where he’d been sitting. “What’s next?”

“How about you start packing the Dark Detectors?”

“Sure.”

He walked over and began wrapping up the collection of delicate instruments in the special padded cloth bags. “Defense class just won’t be the same without you.”

“I wish I could stay and teach next year, but…”

“You have your job,” Harry finished the sentence as he fiddled with one of the detectors. “I don’t know what Unmentionables do, but it must be important.”

Channon just nodded. They both knew he wasn’t allowed to discuss the details of his work.

“Do you know who’s taking over for you?” asked Harry.

“I believe Dumbledore is still trying to find a replacement.”

Harry finished wrapping the last of the detectors and placed it in the box along with the others. “Well, I guess that’s it.”

“Looks like.”

Harry stood there, not knowing what to do. Channon was leaving first thing in the morning and they both knew that this was ‘Good bye’.

Channon walked over to the teen. “It was an honor to teach you this year Harry. You’re so gifted with magic and you learn so quickly.”

“That’s because you’re a good teacher.”

“Thank you.” Channon tipped his head, “But I think there’s a bit more to it than that.” 

“You taught me so much,” Harry continued as he looked anywhere but at Channon, trying to not let his emotions get the best of him.

Then Channon placed a hand on each one of Harry’s shoulders. “Listen to me; I want you to know that I admire you. And it’s not because you’re ‘The Chosen One’ or the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ it’s because of the kind of person you are and the way you deal with your peers.”

Harry looked down, embarrassed.

“I think of you not as a student … but as a friend.”

“Now that you’re not my teacher, could we be that?”

“What … friends?”

“Yeah, you know … write to each other and keep in touch.”

“Harry, we already are friends, and you damn well better write to me — I’m counting on it.” 

Someone cleared their voice and both men turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway.

“Harry, it’s ten o’clock,” she said softly.

“Okay.” He turned back and looked at Channon.

“Come here you.” Channon wrapped Harry in a big hug and whispered in his ear, “Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try,” said Harry as he struggled to hold his emotions in check. “Good bye Channon.”

They broke apart and Harry walked quickly out of the office. Hermione gave Channon a little wave then turned and ran down the stairs after her upset friend.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The carriages lined up in front of Hogwarts the next morning to shuttle the students down to Hogsmeade Station. The air was filled with noise and raucous as all the suitcases and belongings were sorted and loaded.

“Bye Harry,” called Dean and Seamus.

“Bye you guys,” Harry called back. “Have a great summer!”

“Bye Harry!”

He turned to see Ginny, Luna and Neville waving from a nearby carriage. “Bye you guys, have a great summer!”

Neville whispered something in Luna’s ear and then ran over to Harry.

“Listen, I just wanted to say…” he looked around awkwardly. “Well, I know you have to stay here and all, but I hope it won’t be too boring.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find something to do.”

“I’ll send you some postcards,” offered Neville.

“From where? Where are you going?”

“Gran wants to travel this summer. I’m not sure where, she’s doing all the planning and…”

“Neville!” called Luna. "Hurry up, the carriage is leaving!”

“Guess I better go. Bye Harry!” he called back as he ran and jumped into the carriage.

“Well mate, I guess this is it,” said Ron as he and Hermione walked over to join their friend.

“Only for one month. You’re all coming for my birthday, remember?” returned Harry.

“I know, but … it seems like such a long time from now.”

“Ron, it will be here before you know it,” interjected Hermione just before she turned to Harry. “Give me a hug.”

He wrapped his arms around her and they hugged for a long while. Then she kissed Harry on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “If you need anything, just owl me and I’ll come.”

“Thanks Mione, but I think I’ll be okay.” He squeezed her then stepped away. “It sounds like Dumbledore and Snape have a lot planned for me this summer.”

“Don’t let them work you too hard, mate.”

“All right now,” Hagrid’s voice boomed over the surrounding noise. “Time ter git a goin.”

“Bye Ron, bye Mione.”

“Bye Harry, take care of yourself,” Hermione called back as they got into the last carriage.

“Here comes th’ Headmast’r Harry, he’ll be a takin yer back inter da castle.”

“Right, Hagrid. Thanks for staying with me.”

Dumbledore joined Harry and the two of them watched as Hagrid followed the last carriage down the road. A wave of sadness washed over Harry as it turned the corner and disappeared out of view.

“I guess that’s it,” he said forlornly.

Dumbledore looked about and smiled broadly. “Well my boy, are you ready for your summer to begin?”

“I suppose so,” Harry sighed.

“Splendid. Then follow me; I have a surprise for you.”

The Headmaster began walking briskly back toward the castle.

“A surprise? For me?”

“Yes. I thought it might be nice,” he turned to make sure that Harry had caught up with him, “for you to have a change of scenery this summer.”

“But I thought I was staying here?”

“You are indeed.”

They entered the castle and crossed the entry hall.

“That is why I have arranged a suite of rooms for you to occupy over the next two months.”

“A suite of rooms?”Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirmed. They started up the flight of stairs, “They’re located here on the second floor and are used primarily for visiting dignitaries.  I’ve had the elves bring your belongings down already.”

They walked to the end of a short hallway. “Here we are.”

Dumbledore stopped next to the full length portrait of a formidable looking witch standing in a woodland setting. She turned to face the stunned young man.

“Harry, I would like to introduce you to Diana Merrythought, Diana…this is Harry Potter.”

“Hallo Ma’am.” 

“Well, hello Harry. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Diana was a teacher here at Hogwarts the same time as I,” interjected Dumbledore. “She taught Defense.”

“Really” Harry turned back, surprised.

“I did indeed young man,” commented the woman in the portrait.

“I asked Diana if she would guard your suite of rooms.”

“Thank you, Sir” Harry said in earnest.

”Now,” Dumbledore continued, “you must choose a password.”

“Oh.” Harry looked around and bit his lip. “Um, how about … Skiving Snackboxes.”

“Splendid choice. But remember, you must change your password daily.”

“All right.”

“After you …” Dumbledore held out his hand and stepped back allowing Harry to move in closer to the portrait of Diana and offer the password.

“Skiving Snackboxes.”

The portrait swung open and Harry stepped into the room but he stopped immediately, shocked at the sight that greeted him.

The modest sized centrally located sitting room was painted in a light cream color with a fireplace on the far wall, banked by French doors which led out to a balcony.

“Your bedroom is here to the right.” Dumbledore had to squeeze in behind Harry who was still staring aghast at the beautiful sitting room.

“Harry?” Dumbledore called from the bedroom doorway.

“Sir?”

“The bedroom … would you like to see it?”

“Oh, yes Sir.” Harry hurried over and a repeat performance of what had just happened in the sitting room played out.

“This is beautiful sir.”

“I thought you might like it.”

Harry walked in and ran his hand along the burgundy silk bedspread covering a spacious four-poster bed.

“Your washroom is here off the bedroom. Now, let me show you the kitchen.”

“There’s a kitchen?” Harry asked as he followed the Headmaster across to the opposite side of the sitting room.

“Just a small one Harry, in case you want to prepare a little something.”

Harry looked around the small but well appointed kitchen.

“We will be having meals in the Great Hall, but you are free to eat here if you’d prefer. This is your vacation.”

“Thanks Sir, but who’s ‘we’?”

“Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout and myself.”

“Oh,” Harry said a little disappointed. “I thought Professor Snape was going to train me this summer.”

“He will indeed, but first he is taking a short vacation.

“Oh,” Harry nodded.

“Now, there is much we need to discuss. I believe the elves left us refreshments on the balcony.”

Harry had to once again make an effort to keep up with the Headmaster as he strode out of the kitchen, across the sitting room and out the French doors.

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes when he stepped out onto the balcony and walked to the railing. They were situated on the east side of the castle, giving Harry a completely different view from what he usually saw from Gryffindor Tower.

There was a small table and two chairs on the balcony; the Headmaster had already taken a seat and was happily sipping from a tall glass of lemonade.

“Sir, thank you. This is all so beautiful.”

“You are welcome my boy.” Dumbledore set down his glass. “You’ve had quite a difficult time of it this year, and even though you must stay here within the wards, I very much want for you to have a relaxing and enjoyable vacation.

“I really appreciate that Sir. Thank you.”

“Now Harry, a few matters. First, we still need to keep an eye on you, just to be on the safe side.”

Harry sagged. “I understand.”

“It will be different however, in that the house elves will be your guards.”

“The house elves?”

“Yes. With the students gone, the elves will have quite a bit of time on their hands.”

“So I have to wait and make sure one of them…”

“No, no my boy. You can come and go as you like. You won’t even know they are watching you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Secondly, your training.” Dumbledore pulled a thin book out from his pocket and handed it to Harry.

He looked at the title and read it out loud, “Intelligences and Their Applications.” Harry got an expression on his face as though he’d just eaten a vomit flavored Bertie Botts Bean.

“Now Harry, do not distress. I agree the text is rather dry, but thankfully you only need to familiarize yourself with one specific area.” He tapped the book. “I have marked the specific chapter on which we will be concentrating.”

Harry noted the glowing blue pages and turned to them. “Strategy and Tactics,” he read the title then looked to Dumbledore. “What’s that?”

"That is what you will be learning this summer. Now, you only need to familiarize yourself with the terms involved. You and I will discuss the theory behind each, and then when Professor Snape returns, he will work with you in their practical application."

Harry turned to the table of contents and silently read all the chapter titles: Tactical Intelligence, Strategic Intelligence, Military Intelligence, Security Intelligence.

“Professor Snape knows all of this stuff?” he asked as he flipped through the many pages.

“He not only knows this stuff, as you call it, he uses this knowledge to survive.”

“You mean his pretending to be a Death Eater?”

“Severus is a spy, Harry. What he does is very dangerous; there are few individuals who could successfully pull it off.”

“Wow.” Harry looked out toward the Forbidden Forest. “I guess I never thought about everything that went into being a spy.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Sir, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

Harry set the book on the table. “Up until this year, I always thought Professor Snape was just a git.” He cringed and looked over to the Headmaster. “Sorry Sir.”

“That’s all right Harry, please continue.”

“But now I realize he has to do that as part of his…” Harry searched for the word.

“Façade, I believe is the word for which you are searching.”

Harry nodded his head.

“Severus is a unique and complicated individual,” Dumbledore continued, “There is much more to him than that façade.”

Harry smiled curiously and gave Dumbledore a sideways glance. “He has a funny side.”

“Most people miss it.”

“Yeah, at first I thought he was being mean but really it’s just … what do you call it?”

“A dry sense of humor,” Dumbledore filled in.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Harry gave a tiny chuckle.

“I am pleased that you and Severus have been able to put your differences behind you.” Dumbledore took a deep breath. “And now, back to your lessons. I thought we might hold our training sessions in the evening, just after supper. This will enable you to enjoy your days as you wish.”

“That sounds great.”

“We’ll start tomorrow evening. Do you have any questions?”

“Is it all right if I go down to the pitch?”

“Harry, you can go wherever you want, whenever you want. Provided you stay within the wards. And stay away from the Forbidden Forest.”

“Of course Sir.”

“I am certain that with over one hundred elves keeping an eye on you, you will be quite safe.”

“Is Dobby here this summer?”

Harry jumped as the little elf immediately appeared. “Harry Potter, Dobby is here!”

“See what I mean?” chuckled Dumbledore. “That will be all Dobby.”

His ears sagged disappointedly as he disappeared.

The Headmaster stood to leave. “I will let you get settled in.”

“Thanks again Sir,” Harry held out his hands and looked around the balcony, “for everything.”

Dumbledore paused and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You are most welcome. Now, try to relax and enjoy your summer.

“I will Sir. Thank you.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry spent the remainder of the morning getting to know his new lodgings. The couch was roomy and comfortable, the bed felt like a cloud, his bathroom had a large tub and shower and a window which looked out into the tops of some nearby trees, and the elves had filled the icebox with all kinds of yummy foods.

He fixed himself a sandwich and ate it out on his balcony as he started reading the chapter on Strategy and Tactics. Dumbledore was right — it was dry reading.

After lunch, Harry grabbed his broom, walked back out to the balcony and flew off down to the pitch. He hadn’t been there since the Quidditch final and it felt great to fly around and not worry about two guards always having to be by his side.

The afternoon grew quite warm so Harry took off his shirt and tucked it into his back pocket. He decided to fly over to the lake. When he got to its edge, he hovered in place for a minute as he kicked off his sneakers, then he flew out over the water and skimmed his toes along the surface.

“Woo hoo!” he called out. He felt so free. No worries, no guards, no homework— he was just having fun.

His escapades escalated as he attempted entire loops over the water and by the time he headed back up to the castle, he was soaked from head to toe and thoroughly happy. 

He took his time flying back, lazily looping all around the turrets and towers. He even stopped momentarily outside the Headmaster’s tower, tapping on the window and waving 'Hello' to Dumbledore.

Then Harry flew down to Hagrid’s hut but Hagrid wasn’t there, so he returned to his suite to clean up for dinner.

Harry took a long hot bath and then crawled into bed, naked.

He could never do this in the dorm with all his dorm-mates present. The silk sheets felt cool and slippery.

“Dobby.”

Of course Dobby instantly appeared. “Yes, Harry Potter?”

“I have a rule I want to make.”

Dobby’s ears perked upward.

“I don’t want you guys standing here in my bedroom. You can stand outside the door and make sure no one comes in, but when I’m in here I want some privacy. Okay?”

“Yes Harry Potter, Dobby will tell the others.” He smiled then disappeared.

Harry slid back down under the sheets and smiled as he started to please himself.

He thought about how wonderful it felt to drag his feet through the water. Then he closed his eyes and remembered his dream and the mysterious stranger — and how nice it had felt to kiss him.

It didn’t take long for Harry to finish. This was the first time since term started that he’d been able to do this lying down. He usually had to do it in the shower while trying very hard to be quiet.

He lay there, totally spent and blissfully happy. “I think this is gonna be a great summer.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry slept soundly that night and had a nice lie in the next morning. He again spent the day flying but this time he brought his book along with him to read down at the far end of the lake.

When he finished the chapter, he set the book aside and stared out across the water as words and phrases from the text swam in his thoughts. Threat Environment, vulnerability can be reduced but never eliminated, opportunity based on timing and knowledge of the target …

Dumbledore had explained the text as ‘dry reading’ but Harry could identify with every word, almost as if it had been written about him.

He had to get away, from these words and from the stifling feeling growing inside him.  

Harry quickly peeled off all his clothes, ran into the water and started to swim. He swam and he swam, leaving that book and all its unsettling words far behind him.

He finally climbed up on one of the boulders to rest and catch his breath. As he sat there, he stared down into the water and recalled a conversation he hadn’t even realized he’d heard.

It had taken place the night of his attempted kidnapping. He’d fallen asleep but awoke at the sound of familiar voices.

Harry needs to take on more responsibility in his own protection, Channon had said.

But he hasn’t reached majority yet, returned Albus.

He’s old enough to understand and he’s more than capable. Look what happened this afternoon. You can’t follow his every move Albus. He has to learn how to watch out for himself, countered Channon.

Harry kicked at the water. Channon was right, he thought to himself. I’m not a kid anymore and Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect me. I have to learn this stuff and I’m not going to let it freak me out.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Dumbledore looked over at Harry’s empty plate. “Are you finished?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Splendid. Then let us adjourn for your first lesson.”

“Good night Professors,” Harry said as he and Dumbledore stood up to exit the Great Hall.

“Good night, Harry,” returned both Professors Sprout and Flitwick.

Just outside the doors, Harry turned to head toward the staircase but Dumbledore gently took a hold of the young man’s arm.

“It’s such a pleasant evening, I thought we might conduct your lesson outside.”

“Oh, that sounds great Sir.”

They walked across the entry hall and out the front doors.

“Why don’t we head towards our…” Dumbledore looked left and right, “oh, let’s go to the right.”

Harry chuckled at the Headmaster’s quirkiness.

“Were you able to fit any reading into your day?”

“I finished the chapter, Sir.”

“You did?” Dumbledore asked with surprise. “Splendid Harry, and what did you learn?”

“Well, I learned that when a risk exists…,” he turned to look at the Headmaster, “and I’m the risk … right?”

“That you are, my boy.”

“Anyway, when a risk exists, that’s when you need to use Security Intelligence.”

“Correct. Please continue.”

“And to have risk, you need …” Harry looked up at the peachy sky as he tried to remember the components, “vulnerability, impact and threat.”

“And what are the influencing factors for threat?”

“Intent, opportunity and capability.”

“I’m impressed, Harry. I hope you didn’t spend all day studying.”

“No Sir, not all day. I flew around some.”

“That’s good. Remember, this is your vacation.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Let’s see if we can apply these theories to your own situation.” Dumbledore paused to smell a Wisteria flower as they passed under a massive arbor which was completely engulfed by the vigorous vine.

“Now if you will, think about the three attacks upon you this past year.” Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Or would that be too distressing?”

“Oh no Sir, I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” Harry considered the attack on the train, the incident with the chocolate eggs, and the attack in the locker room.

“With regards to threat, would you say the intent was the same in all three instances?”

Harry walked in silence as he compared the three attacks. “I don’t think it was.” He brushed the leaves of a large English Laurel hedge as they walked past it, “Goyle was mad about his father and just wanted to get back at me, but the other two … well, they were trying to kidnap me to take me to Voldemort.”

"And what about opportunity?"

"That's just it Sir,” Harry stopped and looked down at the ground. “They always seem to know where to find me.”

Dumbledore placed a supportive arm behind Harry. “I’m afraid you've hit the nail on the proverbial head." 

Harry didn’t respond.  

"You’re attackers all had opportunity, one of the components of threat. With the many people coming and going from the castle, this component is our ‘Achilles Heel’ so to speak in our efforts to protect you.”

Harry took a deep breath and pursed his lips as if he were about to whistle, but instead he let the air out slowly. He’d felt fine at the beginning of the conversation, but talking about these attacks had left him feeling a bit anxious.

Harry’s silent measures did not go unnoticed.

“I think that’s enough for our first lesson and may I say how extremely pleased with all that you’ve accomplished. And if you are willing, I have planned a little surprise.”

“Really?” Harry was grateful for the respite, “Another surprise?”

“Yes, it’s just over here.” They walked a little further and then ascended a short stone staircase that led to a small courtyard.

Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at the beautifully set table. “But we just had dinner,” was all he could manage to say.

“This isn’t dinner Harry, this is dessert!” Dumbledore steered Harry over to the small table set with creamy yellow linens and a crystal vase filled with apricot colored roses situated in the center. There was a small decanter of Spanish port, a plate of aged Stilton cheese, freshly sliced Macintosh apples and two bowls of mixed berry cobbler. 

“Have a seat, my boy.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Dumbledore filled the two petite glasses with the port and placed one in front of Harry, who in turn stared at the small object, not knowing quite what to do.

“Are you sure this is okay, Sir?”

“Is what okay? asked Dumbledore as he cut off a chunk of cheese and placed it on a slice of apple.

“This is alcohol, right?”

“Oh Harry, you’ll hurt its feelings if you call it simply 'alcohol'.”

“Excuse me Sir, I don’t follow.”

“This,” the Headmaster picked up the small crystal goblet and nodded for Harry to do the same, “is a very old Tawny Port.” He leaned over and clinked his glass against Harry’s.

“To your good health, Harry.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

A continent away, Severus Snape slipped through the cool waters of his lap pool. He reached the far end, turned and headed back enjoying the feel of the water as it licked against his skin.

When he reached the other end, he stood up and looked slowly around the patio. He’d been doing this all day; looking around and wondering to himself what was out of place. Something was missing.

He sighed then climbed out of the pool and ascended the stone steps which led to his private terrace. There, beside the sunken soaking pool was a bottle of Primotivo, and beside it stood a crystal goblet already filled.

Severus was annoyed with Giano for assuming, but damn it if the house elf hadn’t been correct.

He walked over, stepped down into the pool and sank languidly into the hot water. He reached for the goblet and sipped a mouthful of the rich red wine as he stared out across the valley below.

Severus loved coming back the villa. This was the home of his childhood, his beloved roses, and his state of the art laboratory. This place was where he belonged and even though he rarely spent time here, when he did return to the villa it was a respite were he could relax and isolate himself from the intensity of his life as a spy for the Order.

The villa had always fulfilled his every want — until now. Now he felt an emptiness he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His childhood and teen years had been difficult for him; his parents would always argue and Severus never could seem to fit in with his peers. So he had isolated himself with work and later with duty.

But now they weren’t working and the dark shadows of the valley below seemed to echo the emptiness within him.

The memory of Harry’s love and protection that Severus had secretly guarded all these many months and which he’d hoped would be enough — was now somehow lacking.

He looked around once again and finally surrendered to the fact that he did indeed know what was missing from his beautiful home — what was missing from his life.

It was love, and damn it if this wasn’t all Harry’s fault.

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

12. ‘Up to the Task’

Bellatrix looked out the window and watched the dance of whitecaps as they whipped their way over the endless gray sea.

Her gaze drifted to the distant line of the horizon and she wished she could be anywhere but here.

Azkaban was a place she never ever planned to visit again.

But her lord had requested this of her and for him — she would do anything. Even haul her sweet ass up to this frigid part of the world for weeks on end to gather the information needed to achieve their goal.

She turned away from the little window with its dreary vista and walked over to sit at the small vanity where she studied her reflection in the mirror, tilting her head this way and that, trying to get the light from the low northern sun to reflect off of her blond hair.

“I don’t know if I like this color on me,” she mumbled to herself.

Giving up on her hair, she applied a tad bit more eye shadow and lipstick then went back to the small window to see if he might be coming. She was bored out of her mind and hated being in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but fuck, sleep late and drink. The one windfall was that the guard she’d been seducing was well hung and he knew how to use his equipment.

She heard a soft knock on the door.

“Monique,” the man whispered, “it’s me. Can I come in?”

 “Mais oui.”

The door opened slowly and in slipped the tall, rugged guard. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his eyes glowed with anticipation. He walked straight to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh Monique,” they began to kiss. “I missed you so much.”

“Ahhh, mi amore,” sighed Bella.

“Merlin Monique, say that again. I love it when you speak French.”

Bellatrix happily obliged, knowing just what her verbal dance of words would inspire and by the time they’d finished fucking each other over and over, it was well past midnight. At this time of the year and at this latitude, the sun still lingered above the horizon and cast an annoying ray of light when all should be dark.

She flicked her wand to lower the black shade then snuggled close to her lover, feeling every delicious inch of his skin press up next to hers.

“You look tired, Cherie.” She stroked his hair, “It is difficult at work?”

“Oh baby, if you only knew.”

“Ce qui est mal?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“What is … how you say ... wrong?”

“Oh, you know I’m not supposed to talk about my work.”

She kissed him then slipped her tongue along the contours of  his ear. “Poor baby.”

Bella’s assignment had been to befriend and then Imperious as many guards as she could lay her hands, or other anatomy — on. But this had been such a dreary assignment, she’d decided to spice it up a bit and give herself a challenge.  

“I suppose I could tell you,” he wavered as she continued to cloud his senses.

“They’re going to replace our entire contingent of guards next month. So it’s been hell trying to get everything ready for the switch.”

“But why is that problem, mi amore?” She kissed and slid her way down his torso.

“Well, you see … there will only be a handful of guards there for one day,” he gasped when she slipped in between his legs, “on the first of next month.”

Her antics had his head spinning. “They wouldn’t leave you to be the only one, would they?” She started in on his most sensitive part.

He growled and grabbed at the sheets. “No, don’t worry. There will be five of us. It’ll be okay.”

She got him to come then gave a little chuckle.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus stood outside the doorway to his villa with his travel bags next to him. He’d locked up his laboratory and said his goodbyes, all he needed to do now was to activate the international Portkey he was holding and he’d be on his way to Hogwarts.

He stared out across the grove of olive trees to the opposite end where the old pergola stood. This pergola, the entryway to Severus’s rose garden was the support structure for his favorite rose, the massive climber named Souvenir de Madame Leonet Vionet.

It was mid July and Madame was in her glory. Her multitude of flowers completely engulfed the pergola, creating a floating sea of apricot and peach.

Now would be the perfect time to collect a sample of the rose and bring it to Harry. After all, he had promised he would do so that night after the overdose and attempted kidnapping. He could easily walk over and pick one of the flowers, then shrink it and bring it back with him.

But the mere thought of doing this filled him with trepidation.

Severus had been going round and round his entire time at the villa, debating with his himself on the subject of love and vulnerability, and whether or not he should allow them into his life. After all, he’d survived quite well all these years without either one, why should he need them now?

Then there was his reoccurring nightmare, and he was determined to find a way to get a handle on it.

Some aspects of the dream were always the same: the mist, his being awakened by the sound of screaming and then trying to find his Mum. And now there was another consistency; Harry always seemed to turn up.

As Severus had been thinking about his new resolve and his nightmare, he’d somehow managed to cross the orchard and now found himself standing under the pergola, staring at the fattest, largest, most colorful of all Madame’s flowers. 

He raised his hand to pick it but then stopped. He lowered his hand but continued to stare at the rose.

I will not be weak!"

He turned determinately and, leaving the rose behind, walked back up to the house and activated the Portkey. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Careful where he stepped, lest he fall through one of the creaky floor boards, Lucius Malfoy walked methodically as he inspected the interior of a small shack located on the southern outskirts of Aberdeen. He wore his leather gloves and made certain not to touch anything.

The cabin was old and dank, and every square inch of the place was covered with a solid layer of musty dirt.

“How ever did you find this ... hovel?

“It’s perfect, don’t you think?” responded Gibbon. “Come, look outside.”

The two Death Eaters stepped outside and Gibbon waited anxiously as Malfoy had a look around. The shrubs and trees were so overgrown that it was impossible to see the building from the road.

“You’ve checked the surrounding area?”asked Malfoy.

“Of course I have. I wouldn’t have sent for you if I didn’t think it would work.”

Lucius had another look around. The shack and its remote hidden location were exactly what they needed, but Lucius had to be certain. His reputation, his very life and that of his family was dependant on his success in accomplishing his part of this mission.

“I had better check for myself. Wait here,” Lucius commanded as he Apparated away.

He Apparated all around the nearby area and saw nothing but dense growth. It was completely screened off from the distant road which led to the nearby town. Gibbon was right; this shack would indeed serve their needs quite nicely.

“So, was I right? I am, aren’t I? I told you so,” Gibbon went on when Lucius returned.

“Yes, yes this will work just fine. Clean it up, cast a ward around it and then start on your next assigned area. I’ll report back to the Dark Lord and inform him of our progress.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Albus scooped out a spoonful of his soft boiled egg as he casually turned the page of the Daily Prophet. He was enjoying a leisurely breakfast and half listening to the conversation taking place across the table when the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to look up from the paper.

“Why Severus, you’ve returned.” Dumbledore’s greeting sounded more like an announcement.

“Snape old man,” added Filius, “how was London?”

“You simply must come see the new crop of aconite,” Pamona appeared ready to escort him to the greenhouses that very second.

“Pamona, Filius,” Severus acknowledged them both but then turned and spoke in a hushed voice to Dumbledore, “Albus, may I speak with you privately?”

Not waiting for a response, Severus headed toward the antechamber.

“What’s the matter?” asked Dumbledore as he entered the antechamber and closed the door behind him.

“Nothing really, it’s simply that…” he grimaced back in the direction of the Great Hall.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, Filius and Pamona can be a bit zealous.”

“Actually — ” he lifted his left forearm slightly.

“The Dark Mark?”

“It’s only an ache. The Dark Lord knew I was returning today and he is simply reminding me that my first priority is to see to his needs.” Severus brushed his hair back. “He’s probably running low on Restorative Potion.”

“How long do you expect to be away?”

“Only one day. Is Harry ready? Has he read the text?”

“He has indeed.”

“Good, because I don’t want to waste my time if he isn’t prepared.”

It was subtle, but the old wizard noted a harshness in the younger man’s voice. “Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” he responded a bit too quickly.

“Are you having second thoughts about working with him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Severus answered defensively. “At any rate, I need to leave. Will you please inform Harry to meet me outside the Room of Requirement at seven o’clock tomorrow evening?”

“Of course.”

“Were you able to make the special modifications?” asked Severus.

“Yes, the castle was quite receptive,” Dumbledore answered enthusiastically. “I must say, I’d love to join you the two of you, if you could manage to fit me into one of your scenarios.”

“I’m sure I can arrange something. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get going. Please give my regards to Pamona and Filius … I’ll just slip out through the rose garden.” He began walking toward the French doors.

“Are you going to see Harry?” asked Dumbledore.

Misinterpreting the Headmaster’s question, Severus turned back, “I told you —  I must be going.”

Albus watched with silent concern as he watched Severus make his way toward the rear of the room.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Once he stepped outside, Severus leaned back against the doors and released a sigh as he stared out at the rose garden and thought about how he already missed the quiet solitude of his villa.

He started to walk down the steps but froze when Harry stood up from between two rows of rose bushes.

The young wizard startled a moment when he saw his professor standing there at the top of the stairs but then walked straight toward Snape. “Sir, you’re back!”

“What are you doing?”

Harry stopped. “What do you mean?”

Severus tried again. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, I’m just working on the roses.”

“You?”

“Why are you surprised? I told you I like roses,” he said defensively then added before Snape could get a word in, “I always pruned my aunt’s roses when I lived at the Dursleys'.” Harry looked back at the sea of color then added, “I missed it. So, I asked the Headmaster if I could maintain these roses during vacation.”

Severus now cast a critical eye on the rose bushes. They did seem to be thriving and were apparently pruned correctly.

“Why aren’t you using your wand?” he asked as he pointed to the pair of pruning shears Harry was holding.

“Well, you see Sir … I learned to prune roses the Muggle way.” He looked down at the simple hand tool then continued, “I tried using my wand to do a couple of prunings, but I didn’t like the way it felt, so I went back to doing it the Muggle way.”

Intrigued, Severus descended the remaining steps, “May I?” he gestured toward the shears and Harry handed them to him.

As Severus examined the odd Muggle device, the fact that he’d planned to keep his distance from the young wizard and that he would only interact with Harry with regards to curriculum seemed to slip his mind.

“I’ve read about these…'pruning shears' as you call them.” He turned the shears over and over, having never before seen a pair let alone having held one. “But I can’t imagine you’d prefer using these over using a wand.”

“You know why?”

Severus thought that he was about to delve into some practical application. “Why?”

“They’re more…” Harry stared over to the roses, “relaxing.”

Up went the eyebrows, “Pruning?”

“Pruning the Muggle way … Sir.”

The older man now inspected the shears a little more closely.

“I could show you,” Harry offered.

“Don’t start again, Harry. You know that…”

“Yes Sir, I know,” Harry interrupted. “Defense comes from observations of activity,” he quoted a line from the text book he’d been reading and then leveled a knowing look at his professor. “That’s your job Sir, to observe the activity of Voldemort.”

“Don't say his name.”

“And mine is to kill him … someday.”

Even though Severus expected Harry to have gained a more insightful and informed perspective into his situation, to actually hear him speak in such a clinical manner was unexpected.  

Severus nodded his approval and the two wizards now looked at each other in a new light, not just as professor and student, but as comrades in a common goal.

“Good luck to you, Sir,” Harry offered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” He said and stepped around Harry and crossed the terrace.  

When he’d arrived at Hogwarts that morning, Severus had been resolute in his determination to not allow emotions or Harry for that matter, disrupt his life. But after only a couple of hours at the school, or more specifically — after only a few minutes in the company of one Harry Potter, Severus quickly realized that accomplishing this goal was going to be more than he’d expected.     

~~~~~SH~~~~~

21. Birthday Gifts

Harry rounded the corner of the seventh floor corridor and paused at the sight of Snape standing in front of the Room of Requirement. “Am I late, Sir?”

“Not at all; I simply came early to prepare the room for your practical.”

As Harry approached at a quickened pace, Severus became aware of that feeling he would sometimes experience when around the teen: the feeling he’d come to realize meant that Harry was nervous.

“Are you nervous?”

“No, Sir,” he lied.

Deciding to let the issue pass, Snape moved on to their lesson, “Very well then … This evening we will begin to implement the tactics and strategies discussed in the text. The skills will be presented in a manner that will enable you to build upon each one previously learned.”

“Tonight’s practical involves ascertaining hazards and possible foes when entering a new environment. Your task is to choose an optimal strategic position and to take the appropriate actions that will safeguard yourself against attack.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “You mean like the mock battle exercise I had last semester?”

Up went Snape’s eyebrow, “The ‘mock battle’ as you call it, was an example of an obvious attack and defense. In these scenarios your attacker and your countermeasures will be more covert.”

“Yes Sir.”

“If any spell is successfully cast upon you, it will result in only a mild Stinging hex. In like manner, if you touch a Portkey, you will only feel a minor sting. These measures are in place only to make you aware of the fact that you were not successful in a particular encounter.”

“Okay.” Harry may have said ‘okay’ but his nervousness escalated now that he realized there were going to be faux enemies and Portkeys awaiting him. Then he remembered who he was standing in front of and that Snape was an expert.

“Sir, before we begin— if you were to give me any advice, what would it be?”

The request took Severus off guard, and he appreciated the fact that the young wizard had the presence of mind to ask him. “I would advise you to remain dispassionate. Try to operate from an objective point of view.”

Harry looked nervously toward the door.

Severus didn’t plan to do this, it just sort of happened, but he reached over and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It will be all right. Even if you make a mistake, you will not be hurt. You need only use defensive spells, but if you do feel pressured to take offensive measures…”

“I’ll just use a Stinging hex.” He took a quick breath and blew it out, “I’m ready, Sir.”

Severus let go and they both turned to face the Room of Requirement.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

When the doors opened, they stepped into what appeared to be a tavern, complete with a bar and bartender, several rickety small wooden tables and a scattering of patrons all of whom looked up from their drinks when the two wizards entered the room.

Harry looked around in amazement. He had no idea the Room of Requirement could do something like this. It was as if they’d been transported to an entirely different place.

“Sir, how did you do this?”

Severus leaned over and whispered, “It’s called magic.”

Harry smirked at the quip and was about to press the matter, but Snape continued.

“Instead of talking to me, what should you be doing at this very moment?”

Thoroughly rebuffed, Harry turned back to scan the room and ascertain the most strategic place to sit; he then pointed to the little table over on the left. Snape nodded his approval.

They walked over, sat down at the small round table and positioned themselves so that they both faced the room.

“Did you two come in here for the hell of it, or are you going to order some drinks?” barked the bartender from behind the bar.

Harry turned to Snape. “Sir, who are these people? Are they real?”

The look he received told him he’d just gone off target — again.

Harry cleared his throat and tried sitting a bit taller in his chair. “Butterbeer,” he called across the room.

“Scotch,” ordered Snape. Then he asked softly, “What is your impression of the patrons seated at the other tables?”

“They all look a bit dodgy, all except for that old woman over there.”

Severus flicked a glance at the woman wearing a tattered pink tweed jacket, her badly dyed hair stuck out from under a hat that had seen better days.

“Why would you assume that?  For all you know she could be a Death Eater under the influence of Pollyjuice Potion.”

Their drinks arrived and Harry started to reach for his mug of Butterbeer — but stopped. He instead reached into his pocket and pulled out the Sneakoscope Ron had given him back in third year. When he held it near the drink, it lit up and began whirling around in a circle.

Aghast, Harry looked to Snape who in turn was staring in like manner at the juvenile Dark Detector. None the less, he nodded his approval and then incanted ‘Evanesco’.

The Portkey disappeared. “We’ll have another,” Snape called over to the bartender.

The ‘safe’ Butterbeer arrived and as the two men drank, Snape quizzed Harry on his assessment of the room, its patrons, their positioning, the means of entry and exit, and so on.

As they were finishing their drinks, the woman in the pink tweed jacket got up from where she’d been sitting and started to walk toward the door.

Harry watched her every step, just waiting for her to pull a wand on him. When she placed her hand on the knob, he was hit in his left midsection by a Stinging Hex.

Hissing from the pain, he turned quickly in response and called out, “Expelliarmus.”

Just as the bartender’s wand flew into the air, Harry was hit again by another Stinging Hex, but this time it came from his right and slamed solidly into his shoulder.

Grimacing, he turned back toward the door and this time he wordlessly incanted Expelliarmus while at the same time, he threw up a strong Shield Charm around himself and Snape.

Harry kept his sights on the pink clad witch and the bartender as he waited for someone else to mount an attack — but no one did.

Severus called out, “That will be all for today.”

At his words, the tavern disappeared as well as the bartender and patrons, everyone except the witch in the pink tweed jacket who after a few moments casually waved her hand in an arcing motion to remove the glamour, and there stood none other than Albus Dumbledore.

“You can drop the shield now Harry,” Severus suggested calmly.

Amazed, Harry did so then proceeded to rub his sore shoulder and stared from Snape to Dumbledore, who was walking toward them with a big smile on his face.

“Well done my boy, well done!” He waited for Harry to drop his shield then sat down and joined them at the little table; he conjured two shot glasses and then pulled out a silver flask from a pocket in his rose colored robe.

Dumbledore poured a tiny bit of the amber liquid into one of the glasses and offered it to Harry. He then poured a glass for himself and freshened Severus’s drink.

“So Severus, what do you think of Harry’s performance this evening?” asked Dumbledore.

“I think we should ask him,” Severus responded and they both turned to look at the still-shocked young wizard.

Trying to regroup, Harry took a tiny sip of the Scotch which burned his throat when he swallowed, but at this point— he didn’t care. “I guess I failed.”

“You did no such thing!” countered Dumbledore.

“But I got hit — twice!”

“And what did you learn from that?” asked Snape.

Harry thought a moment then drew in a sudden breath as he realized what Snape and Dumbledore had done.

“You two did that misdirection tactic thing… didn’t you,” he leveled accusingly.

“That we did,” responded Dumbledore with a wink, “and I believe I made for a very effective distraction. Did you like the tweed jacket?”

Harry stared dumbfounded.

“You see,” interjected Snape, “how these strategic theories can be put into play?”

“I do now … and I fell for it.” Harry held up his hand as Dumbledore was about to placate him once again. “It’s okay Sir, I learned something from this practical," then he turned to look at Snape, "and I won’t fall for it again.”

Snape raised his glass to Harry then took a small sip of his scotch.

~~~~~SH~~~~

The next day the two wizards went all around Hogwarts, visiting the places Harry would typically go during a school day: the Great Hall, the Quidditch Pitch and changing room, along the hallways and in the classrooms. They discussed the strategic advantages and disadvantages of each spot and how the teen could best position himself to ensure his safety.

“You are to proceed alone. I will watch your progress from a vantage point two blocks away.

His announcement took Harry by surprise.“Do you feel you ready for this, or would you prefer I stay by your side?” asked Snape coolly.

It was obvious from the tone of Snape’s voice that he was challenging Harry. And even though the thought of a Knockturn Alley with awaiting foes behind every door was intimidating, there was no way he was about to ask for help now.

“No Sir. Thank you, but I want to give it a try.”

“Very well then, I will see you shortly.” Snape partly opened the old wooden door he was standing in front of, “Good luck.” Then he turned and slipped out of sight.

Fuck! Harry tensed, pressed himself flat against the wet stone wall and pulled out his wand. Calm down, Potter and for God’s sake don’t freak out and have a surge!

He cast a Shield charm around himself then took a couple of deep breaths to chase off his nerves. Okay now, all of this is meant to intimidate you, so don’t let it.

He leaned forward, peered down the Alley and tried to come up with a quick plan of action. Think, he told himself. Think of what you’ve learned.

It took a few moments but he finally came up with a plan. Pulling himself up straight, he carefully cast both a Geminio and then a Disillusionment charm upon himself and then stepped out into the alley.

As the real Harry blended into the stone of the walls and the road, the fake Harry began to walk down Knockturn Alley.

Staying close to the buildings, Harry’s image followed him down the alley and sure enough after only a matter of moments; a dark clad figure appeared from a dark doorway and leveled a Stinging hex at the Harry image who continued on his way, completely unfazed by the assault.In turn, the real Harry shot his own Stinging hex to the foe who then fell back into the doorway.

It worked! Harry thought in relief.He and his image continued down the alley with the attack scenario playing out every thirty feet or so.

As they neared the end of the second block, another attacker appeared and cast a hex upon the fake Harry. But this time, when the real Harry countered, a different foe appeared and cast a number of Stinging hexes in the general vicinity where Harry’s hex had originated.

He was hit on his cheek. The pain was extraordinary, causing him to lose his balance and fall over a pile of crates. Landing face first, he heard the sharp crack of his nose as it broke.

It was all Harry could do not to pass out from the compounded pain of both injuries. He struggled to his feet and tried as best he could just to get to the end of the block, leaving the fake Harry to saunter along and be hit time and time again by Stinging hexes.

When he reached the end, Harry fell back against one of the buildings and slid down to sit upon the wet cobblestones. He ended the Geminio spell but kept the Disillusionment in place.

After a few silent moments, Snape emerged from a dark alcove and stepped hesitantly out into full view. “Harry?” His call was greeted by silence. “Harry?” His voice was more intent this time, “Where are you?”

When Harry dropped the spell, Severus turned and looked down at the young wizard sitting upon the ground with blood covering his face and hand.

“I take it you caused the mishap with the pile of crates?”

Not daring to nod his head or try to speak; Harry instead raised his index finger in acknowledgement.

Severus walked over and knelt down. “Let me see.”

Harry lowered his hand to reveal his now crooked, bloody nose.“Would you like me to fix it, or would you prefer Madame Pomfrey?”

Harry’s green eyes grew wide and he pointed directly to Snape.

“All right, then… Hold still, this might sting.” Severus aimed his wand, “Episkey.”

“Owwwwwww!” Harry grimaced and tried to move away.

“Just a moment,” Severus placed his hand gently upon Harry’s chest and then cast, “Tergeo,” to sop up all the blood.“I suggest you sit still for a moment.”

“I don’t think I could do much else.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the building. “I guess I failed.”

Severus wasn’t surprised at the young man’s assessment. “Why are you always so hard on yourself? I thought your choice of tactics was rather clever.”

“How can you say that? Look where I wound up.”

Snape held his hands slightly out to his sides. “Is this or is this not the end of the alley?”

The teen glanced around. “I suppose it is,” he said in a quiet voice.

“You did succeed, Harry. Granted, a bit worse for the ware … but you did succeed.”

Then Severus indulged a very rare smile which put Harry at ease and gave him a sense of reassurance he’d never known before.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

All that week, Severus recreated several places that were familiar to him, places that would provide unique situations for his protégé to practice his new skills.

Harry was amazed to learn that Snape was so well traveled and that he knew so much about all these different places. Of all the places they visited that week, and even though he wouldn't know this fact for a long time — his favorite place turned out to be one of Severus's favorites. 

It was the Pontevecchio in Florence, Italy, and Severus had planned this outing as part of a birthday gift for Harry.

By the time the doors opened and the two wizards walked out onto the ancient bridge, the sun had already begun to set.

Harry had never seen anything like the Pontevecchio, what with its many stores lining both sides of the bridge.

They began to walk along the expanse, stopping in each shop to examine the wares being offered for sale. It was all so fascinating, Harry wished he could just relax and enjoy the adventure, but he knew he had to stay on his guard.

It took almost two hours to cross the bridge, during which time there were five attempted attacks. Harry succeeded in defending himself each time using only Shield charms and Expelliarmus. He was tired by the time they reached the other end yet pleased with his success, but not more so than his professor.

“You did very well tonight.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry sighed.

“Would you care for some dinner?”

The emerald eyes grew wide, “What … here?”

“Yes … here,” answered Severus.

“Truth is Sir, I’d love to relax and just enjoy this place. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Severus smiled. “Then let’s go eat.”

They took an outside table at a little tratoria on the far end of the bridge. Severus ordered for both of them as Harry relaxed and enjoyed listening to his professor speak Italian.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian, Sir.”

“I spent my summers in Italy, when I was a child.”

“Here? In Florence?”

Severus got a faraway look on his face, “A little further north, but still in Tuscany.”

As they dined on pasta, Harry and Severus finally had a chance to relax and talk about their mutual interests, Severus’s travels, and how one went about performing daily tasks and basically living life without the use of magic.

Before they knew it, it was almost midnight. Soon Harry would turn seventeen and reach his majority.

Severus placed a small box upon the table. “I know it’s a bit premature but, Happy Birthday.”

Surprised, Harry looked from the small box then over to his professor.

Severus thought this might be his undoing, but he was determined to say it. “I want you to know how very pleased I am with your accomplishments this past week, and...” He drew a fortifying breath, “I enjoyed our time together.”   

Harry couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Sir, I don’t know what to say.”

Severus misinterperated Harry's words. “I apologize Harry, I suppose…”

“No Sir, what I meant was — Thank you. Thank you for taking me to all these places and for taking the time to teach me and advise me about strategy.”

The moment was still and quiet as Severus relaxed his guard. “You’re welcome.”

A silent moment ensued. “Are you going to open your present?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry smiled as he reached for the gift.

Inside the little box was an odd, silver — thing. “What is it, Sir?”

“That, Harry, is a Dark Detector. A tasteful and discreet Dark Detector.”

Harry chuckled, “I guess the Sneakoscope is a bit much.”

“A bit,” added Severus. He looked at Harry’s face basked in the light from the full moon. “There is something else I’d like to say.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“It’s more of a request actually.”

Harry couldn’t think what Snape might want or need from him. “What Sir? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” Severus blew out a long, slow breath. “Last semester, I could never quite understand the ease between you and Professor Jackson.”

“We were friends, we still are,” Harry said the words easily.

“I’d appreciate if …” he stopped. Severus had wanted to say that he hoped Harry might consider him a friend, but he couldn’t manage to say the words.

“What Sir?”

“I know we’ve had our history, but if you ever need …” he tipped his head then continued, “someone to turn to …” Severus looked down, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.

Harry had seen this side of Snape only a couple times before, and each time had been under extreme circumstances. But tonight Snape had knowingly reached out and placed himself in a vulnerable position.

“Thank you Sir. That means a lot.”

“Well, I suppose we should be getting back.” Severus started to end the replication.

“No wait Sir! Could we please just walk back across the bridge without any attacks?”

Severus smiled, “All right Harry. It’s your birthday.”

They got up and strolled back across the bridge and when they reached the other end, the clock in the Palazzo Vecchio began to chime. When it chimed twelve times Harry stopped and smiled quietly to himself.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.”  Severus had barely said the words when the smile on Harry’s face vanished and was replaced with a curious expression.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I feel …” Then Harry realized what was about to happen. “Oh no.” His breaths started coming faster and faster. “Get back, Sir. Get back!”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Harry’s curious expression grew into a look of terror. “Get away from me! It’s happening again! Hurry!”

Severus realized what Harry was referring to and he backed away then called out, “That is all for today!”

The recreation ended and the two wizards were left standing in the middle of the large, now empty room.

Harry began to tremble and a rumbling noise could be heard as the entire castle began to shake.

Then all of a sudden, Harry’s body stiffened and he arched backwards. Severus watched helplessly as Harry’s entire body was engulfed in a blinding white light. But instead of this energy shooting out in all directions, it seemed to be enveloping the young man.

Snape moved as close as he could and even though the episode lasted only seconds, to him it felt like an eternity.

Slowly the rumbling quieted and the light energy began to draw itself inside of Harry until it was completely gone and all was quiet and still.

Severus approached cautiously. “Harry?”

Miraculously, he was still standing; his body was now relaxed and he opened his eyes.

“Can you hear me?” Severus reached out and tentatively touched Harry’s shoulder.

He was terribly pale and he seemed to be in a daze. Then he began to look around the room as if he were seeing everything for the first time.

Severus stepped even closer and now placed a hand on each shoulder. “Are you all right?” he spoke softly.  

Harry’s gaze drifted back and he looked up into the ebony eyes of his professor. Then he lifted his hand and pressed it gently against Severus’s chest — right over his heart.

For Severus, it was as if time had stopped. Harry was touching him as no one ever had, and he thought he might collapse from the sheer gentleness of the touch.

At that very moment, Severus wanted nothing more than to embrace Harry and hold onto him as the son he’d never had. But all of a sudden — Harry began to stagger. His gaze intensified and it was if was looking straight into Snape’s very soul.

“Sev…” Harry whispered just as his eyes closed and he collapsed in Severus’s arms.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

22. Seeing Through the Haze

A low rumble roused Dumbledore from a sound sleep. He sat up and stared out across his moonlit bedroom. It took him only a matter of seconds to place the signature of the tremor but by the time he had pulled back his bedcovers the tremor had stopped.

The sudden stillness was stark in comparison.

“Phineas! Quickly go and ask Diana to check on Harry Potter.”

“Really Albus,” whined the portrait, “it is the middle of the night. I’m not about to go…”

“Now! And report back to me immediately or you’ll find yourself hanging in a closet.”

“Oh, very well,” Phineas huffed as he sauntered out of his portrait.

Dumbledore slipped into his satin aborigine robe and made to exit his bedroom, but stopped at Phineas’ return.

“She reports that he isn’t in his suite of rooms.”

Dumbledore stared up at the portrait. “Has she seen him at all this evening?”

“Albus come here,” called Dilys from down the hallway.

He moved quickly to the portrait. “Yes Dilys, what do you know?”

“Albus, Sir Cadagon reports that he saw young Harry enter the Room of Requirement earlier this evening with Severus, but that they did not come out.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore whispered then hurried toward his office.

“Fawkes,” he called out, “please take me to…” but before he could finish his sentence, the crimson bird flew over, grasped Albus’s outstretched hand in his talon, and the two disappeared in a blaze of light.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

His Familiar deposited Dumbledore in the middle of the Room of Requirement right next to Severus and Harry, and he immediately knelt down beside them.

“What happened?”

Harry had partially come around and was leaning up against Severus, who looked up at Dumbledore with accusation in his eyes.

“What do you think happened?” He spat back at the old wizard. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Warn you about what?” Albus was shocked at Severus’s verbal attack.

“Think old man,” snarled Severus. “What day is it?”

And Albus gasped as realization dawned. “Harry came into his full power.”

“Obviously.”

Dumbledore reached out. “Why are you upset with me?”

“You’re saying this didn’t happen to you?” he spat back.

Dumbledore held his hands out in dismay and his own voice began to rise. “You haven’t told what did happen.”

Severus returned his attention to Harry. “Can you stand? We should have Poppy check you for injuries.”

“But she isn’t here,” Dumbledore’s voice was apprehensive.

Severus closed his eyes and seethed. “What do you mean — 'she isn’t here'?”

“She left for her holiday, only yesterday.” Dumbledore looked down at Harry, then determinately back to Severus.

“Take him to the infirmary,” he ordered. “I’ll go find her.”

Severus was about to comply, but Harry grabbed at his shirt and pulled him close.

“No,” he croaked. “I want … to go to my rooms.”

“But you’re injured.”

“No, I’m not.” He leaned his head against Severus’s chest. “Please Sir, I just need to sleep.”

“All right,” Severus acquiesced.

“I think it best to avoid using any magic,” Albus added cautiously, “until we determine what we’re dealing with.”

“I agree,” added Severus and he looked over to Albus with concern.

Dumbledore placed his hand on Severus’s shoulder, “I’ll find Poppy and bring her to the suite.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

By the time Severus had gotten Harry down to his suite and into bed, he felt exhausted and literally shaken to his core. He bare made it back out to the living room where he collapsed on to one of the sofas and fell immediately asleep.

That was how Albus and Poppy found them an hour or so later. She examined both wizards and reported her findings to Albus.

“There’s nothing I can do for Harry. He needs to rest and be patient until his condition improves. But it’s imperative that he be protected during this phase,” she regarded the young wizard asleep in his bed.

“Once this settles,” she continued, “he’ll need guidance in how to handle his new powers.” She turned back to Dumbledore, “You’ll have to warn him to be careful using his magic around others.”

“Of course Poppy, I understand,” Albus acknowledged her then looked across the room with worried eyes. “And what of Severus?”

“Both his physical and magical readings are slightly off. A couple of days' rest and he should be fine.”

She reached out and took hold of Dumbledore’s arm. “Perhaps I should cancel my holiday.”

“No Poppy… You said it yourself, there’s nothing you can do.” He cupped his arm against her back and led her out of the bedroom. “I’ll send Fawkes to you should any need arise.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

As the sun ascended on the distant horizon, its rays created a soft greeting of peach and orange on this the dawning of Harry’s seventeenth birthday.

Albus was seated at the small table on Harry’s balcony when he caught sight of yet another owl as it approached the castle, carrying yet another birthday gift for the young wizard.

The Boreal owl sailed past him, in through one of the French doors and then flew back out moments later, minus his load.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, Sir?”

Albus glanced over to see Dobby standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Headmaster Sir, Dobby is bringing tea,” the lilt in his voice mirrored the droop of his ears. “Dobby is carrying the tea and putting it on the table so that he is not using any magic near Harry Potter.”

“Thank you, Dobby.” Albus stood up, “That was very wise of you.”

“Dobby is wanting to help.” The little elf began to pull on one of his ears.

“Try not to worry,” Dumbledore patted the house elf’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. He just had a busy night, that’s all.”

“Perhaps if Dobby is making Harry Potter a treacle tart for his birthday?” Dobby’s asked hopefully, “then maybe Harry Potter will be feeling better?”

“I’m sure he would appreciate that.”

His ears perked up immediately and he skirted enthusiastically from suite as Dumbledore followed at a more sedate pace in pursuit of a much needed cup of tea.

The old wizard had barely sat down and taken a sip when he heard Severus stir. “How are you feeling?”

His query was greeted by a scowl. “How long was I out?”

“About six hours, my friend.” He noted the pallid complexion and dark circles under Severus’ eyes as he sat up and then tried stretching out the kinks.

“Let me fix you a cup of tea,” Albus offered. “You look as though you could use some.” He handed the cup to his old friend and waited for him to take a few well paced sips before starting up the necessary conversation.

“Please accept my apology. I had no idea Harry’s transition would be so dramatic.”

“No Albus,” he countered. “I…” Severus closed his eyes and rested his throbbing head against his outstretched hand. “It is I who needs to apologize to you. He sighed and then added, “I was out of sorts.”

“And with good reason, my friend.”

“You found Poppy?”

Dumbledore nodded. “She came and examined both of you.” He regarded the younger man before him with compassion, “Harry wasn’t the only one compromised by last night’s events.”

“I’m listening.”

“You were affected physically and your magical levels have been impaired.”

“What?” Severus stiffened. “Mine?”

“Calm down my boy, it’s only temporary. Apparently being so close to Harry during his transition … well, it had an affect upon you. But Poppy states that you need only to take it easy for a couple of days.”

Albus looked over his rimmed glasses and added sternly, “That includes abstaining from using any magic, whatsoever.”

Severus’s mind began to swirl. No magic? For Days? Dates, commitments, his duties: they all started to flash through his unfocused haze. But then it dawned on him that he hadn’t even yet considered Harry. 

“Albus … What about Harry? Is he all right?”

“Not to worry, not to worry. He’ll be fine.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“According to Poppy’s findings,” Albus paused as he himself was still astounded by her pronouncement, “Harry’s magical powers have nearly doubled.”

Up went the eyebrows. “Doubled?” Severus whispered in amazement.

“Yes … yet even so, his condition at present is precarious.”

Severus sat forward and placed his teacup on the table, and only just noticed the pile of birthday gifts and cards. “What do you mean?”

“She believes that the surge caused a reactionary effect.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She described this reaction as though he’d been burned by his own magic.” Dumbledore sighed. “For all his newfound powers, Harry must not be exposed to any magic. Not until he has recovered. Any exposure could prove fatal.”

Severus sat in stunned silence.

“Thankfully we have one month before the start of term. The quiet of the castle and scarcity of inhabitants should work well to suit both of your needs. ” Albus leaned over and set down his cup then drew in a sharp breath as he snatched up one of the postcards sitting on the table.

“Severus, did you see this?”

“Did I see what?”

Dumbledore inspected the photo on the front of the card then turned it over quickly to read the subject location. “Ireland!” he said in amazement, “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what? What are you talking about?” insisted Severus.

The old wizard handed over the postcard. “Look at this.”

Severus took the postcard and inspected the photo. His heart nearly stopped. “Dear Merlin.” He also turned the card over and stared dumbfounded at the location address.

“I am correct … aren’t I?” asked Albus.

Severus nodded his head. “We must go at once and inspect the area.”

“Yes, we must go and investigate … but not you, my friend.”

“But how else…?”

Albus interrupted, “No doubt Voldemort’s place of residence will be concealed. Even if it isn’t — all of us in The Order have viewed your recollection in the pensive, numerous times.”

Despite his dazed state, Severus tried to find an argument that would allow him to participate.

Dumbledore continued, “I must ask you to stay here and watch over Harry while I go and investigate this new development. You know as well as I that Harry’s welfare is paramount to anything else.”

Severus was already feeling lightheaded from just this momentary excitement. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, which was a bad idea as the room started to spin and he immediately felt queasy.

Albus turned and looked worriedly toward the bedroom door. “Perhaps I should have asked Poppy to stay.”

“No, we’ll be fine,” Severus assured. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

 ~~~~~SH~~~~~

 Harry slowly became aware that he was ensconced within the cool silky sheets of his bed.

Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t place what was amiss. He was incredibly tired and his entire body felt heavy, as if he’d hardly be able to move a single limb if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

All Harry wanted to do was to lay there and go back to sleep. But then he heard an odd sound and he struggled to open his eyes.

Something was sitting on his nightstand; he reached for it and held it close to his face. It was a large card with the words: CAST NO SPELLS. CALL IF YOU NEED HELP, SEVERUS.

What the hell?

He heard the sound again and decided to go investigate the source.  

That was easier thought of than done as Harry could barely get himself out of bed. He tried as best as he could to sneak over to the doorway, while at the same time trying not fall flat on his face. But what greeted him when he peered around the doorway caused him to gasp in surprise.

There was Severus lying on one of the couches with a throw over him, flipping through the pages of a magazine.

“Sir!”

“Stay there. I’ll come and help you.”

“I can make it … I think.” Albeit not too gracefully, he did manage to get to the nearest couch before Severus could get up from the other one.

Harry felt chilled even though the day was warm, so he raised his hand to summon his sweater lying on the back of the desk chair.

Severus immediately recognized the motion. “Stop! Do NOT cast any spells!” His shout startled the already frazzled teen.

 “Why not?”

“What were you about to summon?”

“My sweater over there.”

Severus went and fetched the sweater, handed it to Harry then sat down on the table right in of him. How in the world am I going to explain all of this to him?

“So why no spells?”

Taking a big breath, Severus began to explain everything that had happened: Harry’s coming into his full power, his current health status and the fact that he couldn’t perform or be exposed to any magic for the next week or so. Then he reported on his own current health and that he would be keeping an eye on Harry for the next week. Then topping off all of that was the fact that a postcard sent from Neville Longbottom showed the township Severus had seen from the Dark Lord’s bedroom window all those many months ago, and that Dumbledore and The Order were on their way to investigate.

The shocked teen sat and stared in stunned disbelief.

“There’s one more thing.”

Harry tried to ask ‘what’, but couldn’t seem to find his voice.

“You’re magical power — it has nearly doubled in strength. As soon as your condition of hypersensitivity has healed, we’ll need to work on redefining your spell casting to accommodate this new level.”

This was all too much for Harry to take.  He began to feel chilled again and started to shake as the room began to spin. “I don’t feel so good.”

The next thing he knew, Snape was pushing him down gently onto the pillows. He watched as if through a haze, his professor cover him with a soft blanket and then hold a glass to his lips.

“Drink this,” he heard Snape say and his voice sounded strange, like an echo. He swallowed the liquid which burned his throat but then quickly spread a calm warmth throughout him.

Severus watched as Harry’s eyes started to drift closed. “Just try to rest,” he said while brushing back the teen’s fringe. “We’ll talk more later.”

As Harry slept away the entire afternoon, Severus spent the time sitting out on the balcony staring out at the Forbidden Forest.

He thought about the events of the previous night and what he had felt when Harry placed his hand over his heart and he knew that in that moment — some sort of bond had formed between them.

Then that afternoon when the teen had needed help, he had felt an unfamiliar sense of compassion and a need to care for him. Something was happening between them and Severus nearly trembled at the thought. For as compelling it was — this new sense of compassion, it was also unsettling.

But what troubled him even more was the fact that when the Harry had looked into Severus’ eyes immediately after coming into his full power — he had somehow looked straight into his soul.

All his secrets had been laid bare to this powerful young wizard and the vulnerability of this fact was almost more than Severus could bear. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Harry awoke in the darkened sitting room and sat up wondering just how he’d wound up out there on the couch. But then he saw the CAST NO SPELLS card on the coffee table and remembered.

“Shit,” he said softly then grabbed his spectacles from next to the card and slumped back against the couch.

He stared across the darkened room and slowly recalled all that had been told to him earlier: that his magic had now doubled in strength but that he was injured or sick or something, and that he wasn’t supposed to do any magic for … how long?  He couldn’t remember.

He absently took hold of the amulet with the intent to slide it back and forth along its chain, a habit he’d picked up over the months of wearing it, but something was wrong. The amulet didn’t feel right.

He lifted it and held it in front of him then gasped when he saw that the amulet had broken.

“Nooo,” Harry whispered. When did that happen? he wondered as he rubbed the small remaining fragment back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. It must have broken when that thing happened to me.

Now he could see the auras, as Channon called them, of objects and could perceive how they interacted with those of other objects and how his magic fit into all of this. It was all so obvious now.

Then Harry recalled clearly what happened when he turned and saw Snape standing next to him, how he looked into the man’s eyes and saw all that he was: his memories, his wounds and sadness, his confusion and intellect, those feelings he kept buried deep within. All these things presented themselves to Harry in only a matter of seconds.

The experience was overwhelming and it had come on the heels of the culmination of his full magical power. It was all too much, all at once: the auras, his magic … Snape.

That was all he could remember. After that everything had turned black and now he was sitting on his couch, holding his broken amulet and God he had to pee.

Harry struggled to stand and the room immediately began to spin.

He bent over and grabbed hold of the mantle until the swaying stopped. Then he tried again, but this time — slowly.

He felt lightheaded but figured he could make it to the loo, so he walked into his bedroom and that’s when he saw Snape asleep on top of his bed.

Harry approached quietly and stared at the sleeping man.

A shaft of moonlight illuminated Snape’s face in a pale opalescent light. He was lying on his side and the light sheet covering him had slipped down, exposing his right arm and back.

Harry saw the scars on his back and knew exactly how Snape had received them, just as he knew everything about him now.

Harry knew in an instant what was happening as he recalled the memory of a gray mist, of being frightened and of someone screaming.

Then Snape called out. Harry ran immediately to the bedroom and saw his professor sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring about the room. He was obviously disoriented as to where he was, so Harry went over and knelt tentatively beside the bed.

“It’s all right Sir. It was only a dream.”

For Severus, to be caught-out in such a weak moment was unacceptable and he defended himself in the way he’d come to rely upon, “I am not in need of a nurse maid, Mr. Potter. Get out this instant!”

The words stung even though Harry knew exactly why Snape had acted that way, but he wasn’t going to take it — not anymore.

“Listen!” Harry snapped back, “I know you just had that nightmare but you know what? Fuck you! If anyone has a right to be in a bad mood — it’s me. I feel like shit and Goddammit, this is my bedroom!”

They stared daggers at each other for a moment then Harry whirled around and marched out of the room, staggered across the sitting room then out to the balcony where he promptly leaned against the stone wall and slid to the floor.

Everything began to spin terribly and he thought he might sick-up. “Oh God, I feel sick.” He layed all the way down, tucked his knees to his chest and hoped this horrible feeling would soon pass.

Back in the bedroom Severus was still sitting up in the bed, utterly livid over what had just transpired.

How dare he! Severus seethed. And then with a stern determination, he threw back the sheet, stood up and stormed out to the sitting room.

But Harry wasn’t there.

So Severus stomped into the kitchen but Harry wasn’t there either.

The coward, Severus thought heatedly, then he turned back and looked toward the French doors.

The fact that Harry knew about the nightmare confirmed to Severus his suspicion that somehow the imp had looked into his soul that night in the Room of Requirement. But damn him if he thought he could use this information to his advantage.

He stalked toward the French doors, ready to let loose a verbal tirade upon the brat. At this point he didn’t give a fuck how powerful Harry was. He knew too much and Severus interpreted that knowledge as a threat.

He stepped out onto the balcony ready for the confrontation, but all that greeted him was the sight of Harry curled up and shaking on the stone floor with a puddle of bile in front of him.

The sight snapped Severus from his self-absorbed campaign and he rushed to the teen’s side.

“Let me help you.”

“Get … away.” Harry was shaking so badly, it was difficult for him to speak.

“Please listen Harry, I apologize. I was caught off guard.”

“I don’t … give a fuck.” Harry began to throw up again but now all he had was the dry heaves as there was nothing in his stomach to come up. 

Severus suddenly realized that Harry hadn’t eaten since the dinner they shared the night before, at that the little tratoria on the Ponte Vecchio, and he could have cursed himself now for not thinking to try and get Harry to eat a little bit that day.

Severus wanted to cast a Warming charm — but he couldn’t. He wanted to call the elves for help — but he couldn’t. He couldn’t use any magic near Harry and he looked to the sky and growled in frustration.

In response, Harry tried to pull away — but he couldn’t. He was pinned between Snape and the wall.

“Leave … me … alone,” Harry’s voice was barely audible, and his pathetic plea negated Severus’s tirade.

Knowing that it was his anger and frustration that had created this horrid situation, Severus determined to get a grip on himself before he made matters worse.

He pulled the cloth down from off the table and used it to wipe away the vomit, then he bent down and looked Harry in the eye.

“Please,” Severus implored as he pushed the damp fringe away from Harry’s clammy brow. “You don’t have to forgive me, but please let me help you.”

He opened his eyes and, as best he could and shot Snape an angry glare. “Okay but … don’t pull that shit… on me ... again.”

He knew what Harry’s demand referred to: no more tirades, no more evil Death Eater personas. Save that ‘shit,’ as Harry had called it, for the students and the other Death Eaters.

It was all he could do to get the young man to the bedroom and into bed.

“I’m going to get help,” Severus whispered in Harry’s ear. Then he raced to the portrait and out into the hallway where he found two elves, waiting to serve.

Severus sent one to his quarters for a special blend of tea and the other elf down to the kitchen for a bowl of warm broth.

An hour or so later, Harry lay resting comfortably in his bed. The tea had alleviated his symptoms and he’d finally been able to take some of the broth. And even though the elves had offered, Severus had insisted that he would clean up Harry.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

August first dawned bright and sunny, and hot.

Harry was under strict orders, via a note from Madame Pomfrey to STAY IN BED, for at least two days. So he spent this one opening his gifts and cards, and responding to the stack of letters which had arrived.

Everyone was upset that Dumbledore had cancelled Harry’s birthday celebration, and they were now on a campaign to reschedule the event.

Without the use of his magic, Harry had to resort to using the wax from a burning candle to seal each of his letters.

Hedwig had watched all this activity with great interest and hooted when he collected the letters and handed them to her for delivery.

But the snowy owl backed up in disdain at the wax smudged pile of parchment.

“Look Hedwig, I know they’re a bit messy, but it’s the best I can do right now.”

She looked down at the smutched cargo and hooted her disapproval.

“I can’t use any magic right now, you know that. Please,” he implored. “Please deliver these for me.”

Hedwig loved Harry and would do anything for him, even deliver this embarrassing pile of correspondence. So she jumped over, gave him a peck of disapproval, then clasped the bundle in her talons and flew out of the bedroom.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus was sitting out on the balcony organizing his research notes regarding the new visum perfisio potion he was developing when he saw Hedwig fly by carrying a bundle of letters.

Deciding that he couldn’t put it off any longer, he tossed his quill on the table and headed in to go and have a much needed talk with Harry.

“Are you asleep?” Severus asked softly as he stood now in the doorway.

“May I come in? We need to talk.”

The teen nodded but immediately felt apprehensive as he watched Snape enter and place a chair next to the bed.

“Harry …”

Here it comes; he’s gonna expel me for swearing. What were you thinking …?

“I want to apologize to you for my behavior last evening,” Severus said in his smooth baritone voice. “I was upset at being caught during a vulnerable moment; you suffered the consequences.”

It took Harry a moment to find his voice, “I don’t know what to say Sir.”

“I understand if you’re upset …”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted. “What I meant was, I’m the one who needs to apologize to you … Sir. I yelled at you! I swore!”

“Yes I am aware of that fact,” Severus said as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “I understand why you did it, but try not to make it a habit.”

Harry blushed and gave a little grin, “No Sir … I mean yes Sir, I won’t.” 

Now that they had resolved that matter, Severus turned his attention to one more threatening yet unavoidable. “Tell me … How is it you know about my nightmare?”

“You mean … you don’t already know?”

“I have an idea, but I am uncertain.” Severus crossed his arms which Harry had learned throughout their many conversations and time spent together meant that his professor felt uncomfortable or threatened.

“I uh … I’m not sure how to describe it,” he paused and shrugged his shoulders. “The other night, right after my…”

“Transition.”

“Yeah, my transition. Well, when I looked at you, I could see … everything.” 

“What do you mean by ‘everything'?”

“Everything about,” he swallowed nervously then finished in a very small voice. “Everything about you.”

His statement confirmed Severus’s suspicions and his worst fear. “Are you quite certain?”

Harry remained silent.

“Perhaps you are mistaken.”

Harry closed his eyes and said softly, “I know how you got those scars.”

Severus stiffened.

“Your father did that to you when you were a little boy.” He opened his eyes but his gaze was unfocused as pictured the memory he’d seen, “It was winter time and you were cold. He came into your room and…”

Severus held up his hand. “That is quite enough.” He got up and turned to leave.

“Please don’t go Sir!” Harry pleaded. “I understand how it feels.”

Severus stopped in the doorway upon hearing those words and leaned against the jamb as he realized that Harry did indeed understand how it felt to be abused.

“It was the same for me,” the young wizard continued. “All those Occlumency lessons, you saw how I lived. And you’ve known all my secrets now for years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Why is it different?” Harry’s voice began to rise, “Because now these are your secrets and not mine?”

Severus finally turned around and looked into the green eyes that were bright with emotion, “It would seem you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Sir, have you ever told anyone my secrets?”

“I would never do that.”

“Well neither would I.” Harry drew a shaky breath in an attempt to calm down. “I promise Sir, I’ll never tell anyone what I know.”

Severus drew in his own breath, but his was one of defeat. “I will have to take your word on that, Mr. Potter.”

He hadn’t called Harry ‘Mr. Potter’ for weeks; hearing it now made Harry’s heart sink. “Please don’t call me that.”

“I won’t if you’ll stop calling me Sir.” Severus actually smiled a tiny bit. “It does seem rather out of place, considering our situation.”

“What should I call you?”

“I do have a name.”

Harry gave a nervous chuckle. “Okay Se … Severus.”

The two wizards looked at each as they considered the familiarity and closeness that was developing between them.

“Are you hungry? I’ll fix you some lunch,” Severus offered.

But instead of answering his question, Harry pulled a chain out from under his T-shirt. 

“It broke,” He said simply as he looked over to the older man and lifted up the amulet.

Severus walked over and gently took the amulet into his hand. “Yes, I saw that when I helped you to bed after your transition.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing for which to apologize; it was an unfortunate accident.”  Severus handed back the amulet. “They are very rare. I know of no others.” But the teen’s crestfallen look spurred him to add, “Perhaps the Headmaster knows of a source.”

Harry looked up into the ebony eyes, eyes that had always seemed cold and mysterious but that were now softer somehow and compassionate. “Thanks Severus.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Sidle Into Seventh Year

On the crest of a foothill bordering the Glenballyeamon, a delicate silver instrument circled methodically around the perimeter of an imposing mansion.

Hidden in a thicket of Birch trees on a nearby knoll, Remus and Tonks anxiously watched the progress of the small sphere as it executed its precise passes.

"How much longer is that thing gonna take?" Her voice was breathy with trepidation.

"It all depends on the complexity of those wards," Remus whispered back as he kept his keen eyes trained on the far corner of the massive edifice, waiting for the small object to appear back into view.

"I can't believe there aren't any proximity detectors."

"I wouldn't speak too soon, for all we know…" Remus stopped mid-sentence, "Wait a minute — here it comes!"

"Thank Merlin," she parted a couple of branches, trying to get a better look. "Come on baby, hurry up."

Flashes of wand fire erupted suddenly from ground level.

"Damn it!" Remus turned and grabbed Tonk's shoulder. "You wait here for the permetiorscope; I'll try to draw their fire."

"Remus No!" She snapped back, "It's too dangerous!"

"Give me a signal as soon as you've Port-keyed the scope back to Dumbledore, then Apparate to the Inn. I'll join you there."

He was off in a flash and Tonks turned back to watch the round orb float towards her at a blasé pace, far too slowly, considering that any moment one of those Death Eaters might spot Dumbledore's contraption and blast it out of existence.

A volley of wand fire ensued off to her left. Moments later, the dawdling device finally reached the tight clump of trees. She shoved it unceremoniously into a smooth suede pouch then into the awaiting shoebox Portkey and tapped it with her wand. As soon as it disappeared, she cast her Patronus in the direction of the fighting, and then Apparated back to the Inn.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Doubled?" The word echoing around the table was accompanied by wide eyes and open mouths.

"Yes, doubled," Dumbledore confirmed. "But I assure you…"

"Should the boy be allowed to remain a student at this institution?" queried Solomon Priestly, the new Defense instructor. He had only arrived at Hogwarts two days previous and his stern dispassionate attitude had quickly evoked a chilly reception from the other professors.

At this comment, Severus, who had been sitting poker faced throughout the seemingly unending staff meeting, slid a cold, black glare toward the unwelcome instructor.

"As I was about to say Solomon," Albus determinately kept his voice light, "We have worked diligently with Harry over the past three weeks. I assure you, he is quite capable in gauging the strength of his spell casting. He has truly been quite amazing, I must say.

"How so, Albus?" Arora Sinistra asked, genuinely curious to understand Harry's newfound ability.

"Yes, do enlighten us," Professor Priestly added with sarcasm ringing in his voice.

Dumbledore went on to explain that since Harry's transition into his full power, his awareness of the interaction between objects and magic exceeded explanation or even comprehension.

Even that wasn't enough for the dubious newcomer. "Are you referring to iall/i areas of magic?"

Severus seethed.

"Yes Solomon," chimed in Minerva. "I've taught Transfiguration to Harry for six years. It had always been a struggle for him. But now — he excels at it!"

"It's the same thing with Charms!" Filius added enthusiastically." Harry is a natural. Well, at least inow/i he is."

"And of course, in Offensive and Defensive magic, which has always been his forte." Dumbledore's tone of voice was finite, bringing a close to this line of conversation. Then he drew a breath and leaned forward elegantly. "And while we are on the subject of Harry…In light of all he has accomplished this past year and indeed, his entire time here at Hogwarts, I would like to nominate him for the position of Head Boy."

This was unexpected news and the reaction it inspired in Severus caught the normally stoic man off-guard, filling him with a sense of pride and a warm feeling in his heart. He reached for his glass and took a sip of water in an attempt to quell the unexpected emotions.

"Oh Albus, that's a wonderful idea!" Minerva's response echoed around the table as most of the attending professors agreed.

"Then, may I see a show of hands? All those in favor?"

Everyone in attendance raised their hands, all but one.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"You were very quiet today Severus." Dumbledore's voice echoed through the Floo as the two wizards stepped into his office.

"Perhaps."

"Cup of tea?" offered Albus, but Severus was already en route for the side table supporting the decanter of Scotch. Albus changed his mind, "On second thought, a glass of Scotch sounds perfect."

Severus poured two and joined Albus in the window encased alcove. He remained silent as he stared at the sun setting on the distant horizon.

Albus waited. Severus was preoccupied and had been for some time now. The mere fact that he had even agreed to come to Albus's office meant that perhaps he was ready to talk.

Severus toyed with his glass and added subtly, "That was good of you to nominate Harry."

"I am very proud of him. He has worked so hard this summer and put forth so much effort, despite everything…" Albus shook his head and added, "I wish there was more I could do for him."

His words were greeted with silence, so Albus decided to take matters into his own hands. "Is something troubling you?"

Severus gazed out at the last sliver of the sun before it dropped below the horizon then raised a hand to his brow, "I don't know what to do."

This was a first, and far more then Albus ever imagined to hear coming from lips of Severus Snape. "What is wrong my boy?" He set down his glass and stepped closer.

After a sigh and a few moments hesitation, Severus explained what had happened when Harry looked into his eyes immediately following the transition; that somehow he had seen into Severus's soul and now knew all his memories, all that he felt — everything. Then Severus looked squarely at Albus and his desperation was clearly evident in his ebony eyes. "How can I live with this exposure?"

"But how did it happen? Did he use Legilimency?"

"No. Well, at least not intentionally." He ran his hand through his hair showing his frustration. "I believe it occurred because I was standing on the fringe of his magic."

Dumbledore literally gaped. "What do you mean 'the fringe of his magic'?"

Severus and took a fortifying swallow of the Scotch. "During Harry's transition, an energy field encircled him. I could actually isee/i it. I believe that this light was Harry's magic radiating from him.

"Dear Merlin," Albus whispered in awe. "In all my years, I have never heard of such a thing."

"It was foolish of me, but I walked as close as I could, and stood at the edge of his magic."

"It's amazing you weren't killed."

"Yes." Then Severus peered desperately into Albus's clear blue eyes. "And now he knows ieverything about me/i."

The old wizard was quiet for a long time as he stroked his long beard and pondered what Severus had just told him. "It would appear that some sort of connection was formed between the two of you."

"And it's terribly compromising," Severus interjected. "I don't see how I can continue as his Professor."

"Harry is a good person. I have faith in his character; he would never violate your privacy. The only threat would be if Voldemort were to…"

Severus interrupted, "Harry's shield against Legilimency is strong, even more so now than it was before. He would have to lose total control of his mind for the Dark Lord to gain access."

A flash of light and the sudden arrival of the shoebox on Dumbledore's desk interrupted their conversation.

They had been waiting days for the arrival of this Portkey, and knew exactly what it contained. Members of the Order had been working in and around the town of Ballymena ever since the discovery of Neville Longbottom's postcard. In the three weeks hence, they'd located the mansion and determined that it must be Voldemort's hide-out.

"Who was supposed to accompany this?" asked Severus. "Shouldn't Lupin or Tonks..."

"They're staying in Ballymena to continue surveillance of the area," Dumbledore answered as he strode quickly to his desk and retrieved the permetiorscope from the shoebox. "They'll send word if they need any help." He placed the silver instrument atop a large piece of blank parchment then tapped it with his wand and incanted, "Ostendo sum."

Immediately, the permetiorscope started to clink and chime and then began rolling across the parchment leaving in its wake, a trail of umber colored ink which outlined the perimeter of a building via a complex series of Arithmancy notations.

They had stared at the notations for a minute when Albus commented, "I believe I can decipher these, but it's going to take time."

"Perhaps you should find someone to assist you, what with the students arriving on Sunday."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll see what I can accomplish this weekend. If it proves to be too much, I'll bring it to Channon." Then he looked with concern to Severus. "I do sympathize for your situation, but I believe that you can trust in Harry's judgment to safeguard his knowledge."

"It seems I have no choice."

Albus looked from his friend then down to the recording. "I had better get started on deciphering these notations."

"Very well, I'll leave you to it." Severus finished his drink with one swallow then turned to leave.

"Would you do me a favor on your way down to the dungeon?"

"Certainly."

"I was going to inform Harry about his nomination as Head Boy, but I," he simply pointed his hand to the recording. "Would you please deliver the news to him?"

"Of course I will. But before I go there's one more matter I wish to discuss."

"Yes?" Albus was now anxious to get started on the recording.

"Do you think it wise to stay with Priestly?" Severus asked.

"He simply needs to settle in."

"I'm serious Albus," his voice became hard. "He's going to be trouble and besides which..."

"What?"

"I don't like his attitude regarding Harry."

"What do you propose I do? I couldn't find anyone else and classes start Monday. Now if you wouldn't mind, I really do need to start working on this recording."

Severus's robes swirled as he turned and exited the room. But just before the door closed, he heard Albus add in a reassuring tone, "Try not to worry about Harry, he is quite capable."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Were we really that small?" Harry asked softly as he leaned into the wild bush that was Hermione's hair.

"Shhh! You're supposed to be setting an example," she retorted while keeping her eyes trained on the approaching group of intimidated eleven year olds.

Professor McGonagall stopped the crop of first years just outside the doors of the Great Hall. "Attention children," she turned and spoke in her thick Scottish brogue, "we will be going into the hall momentarily, but first I wish to introduce you to this year's Head Boy and Head Girl: Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger."

Sudden intakes of breath echoed round the stone foyer as the small children gaped in wonder at meeting 'The Boy Who Lived.' Their expressions were followed by an assortment of whispers: "Wow!", "Can you see his scar?", "Is that really Harry Potter?"

Harry squirmed at the unwanted attention but managed a pacifying smile and a nod of his head, "Hello."

Hermione was a bit more verbose, "Welcome to Hogwarts! You are going to ilove/i being a student here and you'll learn so many wonderful facts regarding magic and history. I remember imy/i first day," she continued enthusiastically, but McGonagall cleared her throat determinately to interrupt the verbal avalanche.

Hermione smiled sheepishly at the stern witch then finished up quickly, "If you have any questions, bring them to your prefects. Good luck!"

McGonagall redirected her attention back to the youngsters, "You will follow me to the front of the hall and wait for you name to be called to receive your house placement. Be on your best behavior and show the student body what fine little witches and wizards you all are. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am," came a resounding chorus of small voices.

The tartan clad professor led the group of frightened fledglings into the Hall, with Harry and Hermione bringing up the rear.

As the group of first years reached the front of the hall and came to a stop, Harry, who had glanced up and saw the new Defense professor sitting next to Severus, missed the halt and actually bumped into the back of little Matthew Zunich.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized then sidled quickly over to the Gryffindor table and immediately got a teasing elbow in the ribs.

"Good one Harry," chuckled Ron and Harry rolled his eyes at his own blunder.

The noise in the hall silenced when the sorting began, and as Harry watched each timid youth climb on to the stool and disappear under the hat, he thought back to his own sorting and what a very great distance he'd traveled since that night six years ago. All the events, everything that had happened to himself, his friends…and to those he had loved.

He shook away the heavy thoughts and instead pondered how the atmosphere in the castle had changed so much in just one day. Earlier it had been quiet and peaceful, now the castle rang with voices and energy from the returning students. That morning he had woken up in his private bed in his private suite, but tonight he would lay down on his old four poster and fall asleep listening to Ron and Seamus snore, Neville mumble and Dean...well, Dean was pretty quiet.

"I hope they hurry up, I'm starving" grumbled Ron then he pressed his leg against Hermione's, "Hey, did you get a chance to tell Harry?"

"There wasn't time," she whispered back.

"Tell me what?" whispered Harry as their conversation suddenly took on a stealth like quality.

"Malfoy, on Friday," Ron answered enigmatically.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Hermione clarified, "Friday, when we were in Diagon Alley, we saw Draco and his father head down Knockturn Alley."

"So? I've seen them down there before…at Borgin and Burkes."

"That's where they were headed this time!" Ron added excitedly, but still whispering.

"I don't understand why this is such a big deal."

"Harry," Hermione's voice was low and serious, "it was their iattitude/i that drew our attention. Then..." Hermione looked left and right to make sure no one was listening, "I think that Malfoy was summoned."

"Draco?" Harry's whispered aghast.

"Not Draco, you dolt," rectified Ron, "his father."

"Oh," Harry now looked over to the Slytherin table. Draco would typically be boasting and bragging in full bravado to his cronies, but the blond haired boy seemed oddly silent and tense.

Harry turned and whispered to Hermione, "What time did this happen?" and got a face full of hair in the process.

"Friday afternoon, around two," she answered.

Harry rubbed his tickled nose and leaned back on the bench. Severus had worked with him that evening and all of Saturday. iWhy would Malfoy be called, but not Sev?/i

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The next morning after breakfast, Harry stood examining his class schedule that he had just received from McGonagall. Defense was the first class of the week, both a lecture and a practical session which would fill the entire morning.

"Damn," he whispered quietly then looked over to the Slytherin table where Severus was up to his neck of his with students and schedules. Harry had hoped that potions would be his first class. iGuess I'll just have to wait to ask him about Malfoy./i

"Come on Harry," called Ron. "We've got to get going or we'll be late for Defense."

When the Golden Trio entered the third floor classroom, they saw Professor Priestly standing at the front, facing the students as they entered. His arms were folded across his chest. He'd drawn his wand and was holding it pointed toward the ceiling at an angle and on his face he wore a stern expression.

That greeting set the mood; all the students silently took their seats without preamble.

Priestly introduced himself and began walking slowly up and down each aisle, still holding his wand, and explained exactly what the students could expect from this seventh year Defense class.

"There was a great deal of material to be covered in order to prepare for the upcoming N.E.W.T.'s," he stated, and there would be "no time or tolerance for chatter or horsing around." "This is not to be a social hour," he continued and informed the class that they were only allowed to speak when answering a direct question from him, or to ask him a direct question. Additionally, he had charmed the room to identify each student as Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, so that if one of them idid/i speak outside these guidelines, five points would automatically be deducted from his or her house.

Ron's cheeks had reddened with ire. The expression on Hermione's face had gone from exuberant, to a downright glower. The majority of the Gryffindors in the room sat bristling in their seats and the poor Hufflepuffs were simply terrified.

With all his work over the summer in strategy and intelligence, Harry sat and listened to Priestly's verbal diatribe with an impartial perspective. Instead of reacting, Harry was analyzing, thinking only that the new professor was using the tactic of intimidation to establish his position of authority.

"We will begin with the Hex Reversing Hex," continued Professor Priestly. "I am certain all of you read the note attached to your book list, stating that you were to read the first chapter of your text in order to prepare for this first class."

The students weren't quite certain if Priestly was asking them a question or making a statement, so no one dared take a chance to speak out of turn.

Priestly took the silence as confirmation, "Fine. Then stand and partner with the student closest to you."

Harry immediately looked encouragingly over to Neville, indicating that he would partner with him. But before he could take a step, Priestly had moved to his side. "I am told Mr. Potter, that you are quite accomplished in defensive magic," his tone nearly dripped with cynicism.

"I suppose that would be a matter of opinion Sir."

Priestly stared momentarily; disappointed that Harry hadn't taken the bait. "Do you feel confident enough to assist me in demonstrating this Hex?"

"Yes Sir."

The professor narrowed his eyes slightly, as if he were eyeing a fresh kill. "Very well, Mr. Potter, please follow me to the front of the class."

Everyone had paired up in record time. When they realized that Harry was now standing at the head of the class facing Priestly for a duel, they looked on with concern.

"Attention students. Mr. Potter will demonstrate the Hex Reversing Hex. He will attempt to cast a Twitchy Ears Hex upon me; I will in turn deflect the hex downward toward the floor using the Hex Reversing Hex. Pay close attention to my movements. Are there any questions"

"No Sir," they answered in unison.

"Very well." He turned to face Harry. "You may precede, Mr. Potter."

Harry started to raise his hand when Priestly suddenly yelled, "Stop!"

The students nearly jumped at the sudden outburst.

"Use your wand Mr. Potter. I will not tolerate show-offs in my class."

"I'm not trying to show-off Sir. I just need to cast that hex wandlessly."

Priestly actually gasped. "Neither will I tolerate backtalk. Now do as you were told."

The students shifted their attention from Priestly to Harry, as if they were watching a tennis match.

"Respectfully Sir, I can't … I won't do it."

"Draw your wand," Priestly spoke deliberately, emphasizing each word, "and cast as you have been instructed or I will assign you detention."

Harry stared in disbelief at the thin lipped professor. "Sir, if I could just explain…"

"Out! Get out of my classroom and report to the infirmary for detention. You are to wash every soiled bedpan there and have the Mediwitch document your work. Do you understand?"

"You can't do that," called out Ron in disbelief. "He's the Head Boy!"

"Ron no!" returned Harry. You'll just loose points for Gryffindor." Then he added in a softer voice. "It's all right."

"I'm not going to say this again Mr. Potter. Get out — and don't bother coming back."

iWhat does he mean 'don't bother coming back?'/i thought Harry. iDoes he mean just today, or did he just kick me out of the class?/i "Sir, what do you…?"

"Out!"

Harry was stunned. It took him a moment, but he turned and walked quickly over to fetch his book-bag, then left the classroom post haste without saying another word.

Madame Pomfrey was checking her supplies and looked up in surprise when Harry walked into her office. "Not again, Harry. It's only the first day of classes."

"Pardon?" he asked in confusion.

"What's wrong this time? Are you injured?" She walked over and eyed him. "You're very pale."

"I'm not sick Madame Pomfrey. I'm here to serve my detention." Harry dropped his schoolbag on the floor. "I'm supposed to clean all the bedpans."

"What bedpans?" She pointed toward the doorway leading to the infirmary. "I have no patients."

He gave a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

"What in the world did you do to warrant a detention?"

Harry slumped onto a nearby chair and lowered his head onto his cupped hands. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

Poppy smiled sympathetically, sat down next to him and took hold of his hand, "Try me."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Here you are! We've been looking all over for you!" exclaimed Ron and Hermione when they opened the door to the dorm room and saw Harry and Hedwig sitting on his bed. Hermione walked straight over and sat next to him.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," his tone was subdued. "What happened after I left?"

"That Priestly is a blinking jerk," proclaimed Ron. "I swear Harry, I don't know if I can take it!"

"He takes all the fun out of spell casting," Hermione said in a downcast voice.

"Did he kick out anybody else?"

"Nah, we all did what he told us."

"He was very methodical and we all managed to do the hex — even Neville," she added as an afterthought.

"So mate … did you do the detention?" Ron cringed at the thought.

"There weren't any patients, so no bedpans. Besides, Madame Pomfrey wanted to know what happened … so I told her. Then she took me up to see the Headmaster.

They waited for him to continue, but Harry simply sat staring at the bedcover as he stroked the top of Hedwig's head.

"Go on, tell us what happened," encouraged Hermione.

"Do you know," asked Harry, "if in the history of Hogwarts, has there ever been a Head Boy that received detention?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and thought a moment. "I don't think so. At least I don't recall ever reading of such an incident."

"Great," mumbled Harry. "It's bad enough that I'm the 'Boy Who Lived,' now I'm also the first Head Boy to ever receive detention."

"Come on mate … worse things could happen."

"Such as?"

Ron pursed his lips and thought a moment, "I know," he stated in triumph, "Malfoy could catch the Snitch instead of you."

Harry tittered.

"Why wouldn't you cast that spell with your wand?" Hermione redirected.

He looked at Hedwig as he continued to rub his thumb along the top of her head. She liked it when Harry did that and hooted softly in appreciation. "If I had cast that easy hex with my wand … the professor would have wound up in St. Mungos for months."

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked with some unease.

"You know about my magic level now that I've come of age."

"Yeah," answered Ron, "but what does that have to do with…"

"I know." Hermione interrupted as she suddenly realized. "Your spell casting is too strong now to use a wand, right?"

Harry nodded with embarrassment. "It depends on the spell and what I want to accomplish, but as far as classroom work — yeah, I have to stick with just wandless casting.

"You should be proud of that mate," Ron stated emphatically. "Don't pay any attention to that bum Priestly. He's just a dolt anyway."

Hermione quirked a frustrating look to Ron, "What happened with the Headmaster?"

"There's going to be a meeting tonight."

"What about?" she pressed.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know. Dumbledore was quiet for a long time after I told him what happened, then he apologized and told me to come back tonight for a meeting."

"Apologized?" Ron burst out, "the Headmaster apologized?"

Harry kept his head down. He was shaken by this awful turn of events. "Why did this have to happen?" He tipped his head back and let it thump against the headboard of his bed. "I really hoped that this year would be … well, normal."

"It doesn't work like that for you mate," said Ron as if he were stating a proven fact. "But it'll be okay. The Headmaster will fix it, you'll see."

"Come on," Hermione tugged lightly on Harry's hand, "let's go eat lunch."

"I'm not very hungry."

"You gotta eat mate. We have Charms iand/i Transfiguration this afternoon."

"Well…"

"Come on Harry, let's go."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Thank you for coming this evening," Dumbledore addressed the group assembled in his office: Solomon Priestly, Minerva, Filius, Severus and Harry. "I've asked you here in response to the events which transpired today."

They had already received a recap of the entire Defense class fiasco.

"Let me start by assuming full responsibility for this morning's misunderstanding," stated Albus in a clear voice.

"Misunderstanding?" Severus asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes Severus, a misunderstanding. None of this would have happened if I had taken the time to brief Solomon in regards to Harry's advanced level of casting."

Solomon sat stony faced and made a point of not establishing eye contact with anyone present. He was livid at Dumbledore for his oversight and didn't appreciate being called out like this. Even worse, he was embarrassed to be sitting in front of Harry now that he realized the young man had forsaken his own pride to assure his professor's wellbeing.

Priestly wasn't the only person feeling livid. Severus angled his head ever so slightly to look at the newcomer. "And are we to assume that he is now fully briefed?"

"Yes Severus, he is," assured Dumbledore.

"So what is it you want of us, Albus?" asked Minerva.

"Clearly, Harry is beyond the skill level of his fellow classmates. My question is: can you continue teaching him in the classroom environment?"

The professors all pondered this question, all but Severus. He was sitting next to Harry and turned in his chair to face the tense young man. "Have you given this matter any thought?" he asked softly.

Just sitting next to Severus had been a relief, "Yes Sir, I have."

"And what might that be?"

Harry felt a subtle sense of pride at being treated as an adult. When he finally spoke, he gave extra care to his choice of words, "My additional training has been primarily in offensive and defensive magic." Then he looked to McGonagall. "I still struggle with Transfiguration…"

"Not now," she countered.

"But I still have a lot to learn."

She nodded her head, "That you do."

"And Charms are always so tricky," Harry looked over to Professor Flitwick.

"This is true," interjected the tiny wizard. "But since your majority, I have seen a marked improvement," he added encouragingly.

"Filius, do you think Harry is beyond the level of the other students?" Dumbledore asked pointedly.

"Not at all," answered the professor in his high squeaky voice. "You know as well as I do Albus, that Charms are all about subtlety and nuance. I think it is not so much a case of iwhich/i charms Harry knows, but the level of finesse he uses in casting them." Flitwick smiled at Harry, "No offense Harry, but there is always room for improvement in that regard."

"Then it appears the only area at issue is Offensive and Defensive magic," clarified Dumbledore.

"Yes Sir," agreed Harry.

"Do you have any input with regards to this matter?" Dumbledore asked the silent Defense teacher.

Priestly cleared his throat and shifted his position, "Frankly, I think that Mr. Potter would be bored if he remained in the class."

"Perhaps he could assist you," offered Minerva.

Priestly bristled at the suggestion, but before he could voice his opposition, Severus interjected quite emphatically, "Harry has a tremendous calling awaiting him. His time should be devoted to preparing for this undertaking — not wasted as a teacher's assistant."

Severus's words hung in the air like a beacon, bringing a renewed light upon the dark task that lay ahead for Harry.

"Very well then," offered Albus, "I believe any further consideration regarding this matter can be handled between Harry and me. I will brief each of you tomorrow morning regarding my decision. Thank you for coming."

They all rose from their chairs and Priestly left the room without speaking to anyone. Filius offered words of encouragement to Harry and stated clearly that he would be delighted to work with him to further refine his technique. Minerva laid a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder then whispered softly to him. Whatever she said, it made him smile.

After the others had left the room, Severus resumed the conversation, "We could continue on as we did this summer."

"Your schedule is already full Severus," Albus pointed out, "but perhaps if we split the duties..."

Harry and Severus waited for Albus to consider this possibility.

"I will compare your daily schedule with my own and Harry's and will attempt to devise a plan."

"Thank you Sir," Harry's voice was almost a whisper. It had been too long of a day and he felt totally drained. "I'm so sorry this happened."

Dumbledore stepped to Harry and placed a hand on each of the young man's shoulders. "You have no reason to apologize. In fact, I commend you for your courage and conviction to do what was right. We all know what the outcome would have been if you had cast that hex wanded."

Harry looked down, "Yes Sir."

Albus gave Harry's shoulders a squeeze and stepped away, "It's been a busy day and I have schedules to compare, so if you wouldn't mind gentlemen, I will bid you Good Night."

They returned the salutation and exited the office, but halfway down the stairs Severus stopped and turned to face the upset teen. "Are you all right?"

Harry kept his sights lowered, "I can't believe this happened."

"Priestly is a fool," Severus nearly spat the words with contempt. "Yet sadly, his actions remind me of my previous attitude toward you."

"That was a long time ago," Harry whispered.

Severus noticed the Head Boy pin on his collar, "You're a fine young man; I regret it took me so long to realize that."

Finally Harry looked up and Severus saw the emerald eyes full of emotion. "Come here," he said softly as he pulled Harry to him and wrapped him in a hug. "I'm proud of how you handled yourself today and if Priestly gives you any more trouble, I want you to come to me immediately."

"I'll be okay ..."

"Harry?" the sage wizard interrupted. "You are continually trying to cope with your troubles singlehandedly."

"But …"

"And," Severus refused to be cutoff, "this propensity of yours often leads to your own detriment."

He had Harry on that one. "I suppose you have a point," he mumbled.

Then Severus pulled back slightly and placed his index finger under the slight chin, encouraging the teen to look up, "Now promise me — if you have any further troubles with Priestly or anyone for that matter, that you'll come to me."

It took Harry a moment to find his voice but finally he whispered, "Okay Sev, I will."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

                                                       Broken pieces, break into me.

                                                    So imperfectly what you should be.

                                            Lay here, it’s safe here, I’ll let you be broken open.

                                           Hide you, confide to you so we can be broken open.*

                                                                    ~~~~~SH~~~~~

Voldemort hissed softly as he read aloud the document written in Parseltongue. The fragile parchment was one of several literary artifacts he’d found decades ago, tucked away in a warded, dank corner of the Chamber of Secrets.

He treasured these old scribed relics from Salazar Slytherin and had pulled three from their safekeeping in response to the recent threat posed by the Order.

Voldemort knew it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore, or someone else in his band of do gooders, managed to decipher the wards surrounding his manor and he had no intention of staying around for the showdown.

No, he planned to abandon his home and move his operations — but where?

Tom recalled having read of a fortress, ancient as time itself and long ago forgotten. He’d come across its mention while scanning through the then recently discovered artifacts. At the time, the existence of this fortress had been merely a fact of interest, something he might someday investigate. But recent developments had spurred his renewed interest for now it was imperative that he find the correct document, after which he would depart post haste to go and search for this well hidden stronghold. 

His slit-like eyelids widened as he finally came across the correct passage of Parseltongue.

Carefully setting aside the document, he then began comparing the description to that of the corresponding coordinates portrayed upon the large map he’d spread out across his mahogany desk.

The two appeared to coincide.

He smiled and released a stifled sigh through his narrow nares. But there was no time to gloat on his success; he would have to leave immediately, despite the fact that operations were underway on that forsaken rock in the North Sea.

“My Lord,” Pettigrew called timidly from his bowed position in the doorway.

“You may speak.”

“We have received communication from Malfoy.”

“Continue.”

“He reports that all the captives have survived and that they are making their way southward along the chain of safe holds.”

“How far have they progressed?”

“To the third shack, per his report.”

“And what of their condition?”

“Malfoy reports that the majority of survivors are experiencing assorted affects from their imprisonment; he is asking for Snape.”

Voldemort considered the news. “Send word for them to hold their position. Instead of continuing here as previously planned, they are to remain in the three southern most stations until I send for them.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“When you have completed that task, you will then proceed to shrink and pack all of my furnishings and belongings.”

Pettigrew barely hid his shock at this pronouncement, “Of course My Lord, as you wish.”  He lowered his bow and then backed out of the room.

Voldemort stood slowly and rolled up the left sleeve of his robe. He was thrilled by the intensity of all that was occurring simultaneously: the apparent successful attack on Azkaban, the escape of his captured Death Eaters, the Order’s looming threat upon his manor and his very own delicious thwart against their endeavors in discovering the whereabouts of the Fastness.

He grew aroused with self satisfaction as he pulled out his wand and pressed its tip to his Dark Mark. “Perhaps a bit of indulgence before I depart might be in order,” and he smiled with anticipation at the thought of Severus’ arrival.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus threw back the covers and rose to begin preparations for this day’s classes. He decided to skip breakfast in the Great Hall that morning, skip the noise and sitting next to that fool - Priestly.

A long hot shower, a strong cup of Ceylon tea and an hour or so in his lab for some peaceful, private brewing sounded infinitely more appealing. Brewing always settled him when things got to be too much.

Severus stepped towards the loo but before he could even cast a Lumos, the Mark on his arm burned so fiercely that he doubled over in pain.

This was unusual to say the least, to be summoned on a school day morning. And from the severity of the summons, he knew he’d best respond immediately. There wouldn’t be time for a shower or proper attire; the best he could manage would be to throw a robe over his person and depart.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The Dark Lord’s intense summons brought Severus to an unexpected destination. Not the foyer as was customary, but directly to the Dark Lord’s study.

“Ah Severus, you’re promptness delights me.”

He dropped to his knees, “My Lord, how may I be of service.”

Voldemort smiled at the choice of words.  “I’m afraid your students will have to do without you for a day or two,” he spoke coyly as he strode slowly toward his potions master.

“My Lord?”

“Ah Severus,” he sighed. “You must realize how highly I value your skills with potions; rarely do I send you into the field. But that is exactly what I am requiring of you this morning.”

Severus waited silently for his master to get to the point.

“You will be pleased know that your Death Eaters who were captured the summer before last, have now been freed from that bastille, Azkaban.”

He continued his stroll across the study past Severus’s position on the floor. “They are currently taking refuge at a number of safe keepings…” He paused, “I suppose shacks would be a better choice of word. None the less, your services have been requested.”

Severus Occluded his shock and replied in a cool voice, “No doubt, there were injuries…”

“Something of that order,” Voldemort began to prepare himself as he walked up from behind.

“I shall leave at once, my Lord.”

“Not so fast, dear Severus.”

Voldemort reached out with one of his boney white fingers and pulled away the lace which had held Severus’s long thick hair, allowing the strands to splay across his back in a sheet of shining black.

“Before you leave, I wish to spend a moment or two with you.”

The words caused Severus’s heart to skip a beat at what was obviously about to take place. It wouldn’t be the first time the Dark Lord had claimed this service from him but it had been years, and during that time Severus had managed to safely bury the horrible rawness from the earlier rapes into that locked box deep inside his soul.

He closed his mind and barricaded his heart when his master lifted his robe and whispered in his ear, “Put your hands on the floor.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Does Snape think we don’t have anything better to do then sit here and wait for him to show up?” spouted off Ron indignantly.

It was twenty minutes past the hour and the students in seventh year potions were growing restless, all save for two.

As he had been throughout this first week of school, Draco was oddly quiet and withdrawn. He had known about the planned attack on Azkaban, knew that his father was in charge of its operation and that he would be gone for days if not weeks.

They’d argued about it and since his summons nearly a week ago, Draco had worried nonstop about his father’s well being.

Snape’s absence this morning merely confirmed the fact that the escape had happened — or that it was happening. Perhaps the later was the case since there had been no mention in that morning’s Daily Prophet.

On the other side of the room sat another quiet student.

During breakfast that morning, halfway through his meal, Harry was overtaken by — something. He couldn’t put a name to it. He wasn’t sick per say, but he definitely didn’t feel good.

On top of that now was the fact that Sev hadn’t turned up to class. He hadn’t been at breakfast either, but at the time Harry hadn’t given it a moment’s thought as Severus quite often skived off breakfast in the Great Hall.

Harry knew in his heart that something had happened and his worry was now starting to make him feel positively ill.

“Maybe he overslept?” called out one of the students.

“Did anyone check his office?” asked Zabini.

D’ya think if he were in there he’d a come in here by now, ya dolt?” countered Ron.

“Listen Weazlebeak, if you want a fight we’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Oh yeah? You and who else?” leveled the redhead. “Malfoy over there?” he said jokingly, “or maybe you were thinking of Parkinson.”

Pansy was about ready to walk over and let Ron have it when Argus Filch marched into the room.

“Quiet down, quiet down,” he ordered as he advanced to the front of the class.

“The Professors’ sick, so the Headmaster wants all of ya tah use this class tah study.”

The students responded with a resounding moan of disapproval.

“And I’m tah stay here n’ keep an eye on all of ya.” He pressed his thin lips together and peered around the room, relishing in this snippet of authority.

“Now open yer books and shut yer mouths. I don’t want tah hear a peep outta ya.”

The moans settled down as the students unwillingly pulled out their books and began to read — or at least they pretended to.

Ron decided to take this opportunity to work on his Quidditch playbook, while several other students simply began passing notes back and forth.  

Hermione looked to Harry’s pallid face.

“Perhaps you should go see Madame Pomfrey.”

“For the tenth time Mione … I’m not sick!” he whispered back adamantly. “It’s probably just that banger I had,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah right,” she huffed as she pulled out her book and tried to read.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

It was Friday night, Severus was still missing and the awful feeling that had hit Harry so suddenly the previous morning had plagued him incessantly now for two days. He could barely concentrate enough to do his schoolwork, had lain awake most of the night worrying and had barely eaten a thing.

He finally broke down and went to see Madame Pomfrey late that afternoon. She ran her tests but couldn’t find a physical cause for his condition.

“Perhaps you should stay here over the weekend Harry,” she had suggested. “I could monitor you and give you something to help you sleep.”

He’d been sitting on the edge of a bed, but stood up immediately. “Oh please no, Madame Pomfrey,” he pleaded. “Can’t you just give me the vial of something? I promise I’ll go back to the tower and rest.”

“Well,” she wavered then looked to Ron and Hermione who had come to collect their friend when classes had ended. “Only if you two promise to keep an eye on him.”

“We will!” assured Ron. Their first Quidditch meeting of the season was scheduled for that evening and he didn’t want Harry to miss it.

“All right then, wait here while I retrieve the potions.”

When the Mediwitch returned she gave Harry something to settle his stomach so that he could at least eat dinner. Then she handed him another vial.

“Pay attention now Mr. Potter, this is a combination of Draught of Peace and Dreamless Sleep. Take it ONLY when you’ve gotten into bed. It’s very potent and I don’t want you passing out and hurting yourself.  Understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Explain to me again that Quaffle Round-About Throw?” asked Jimmy Peakes, one of this year’s new Beaters.

“Oh, come on Jimmy; haven’t you read the playbook? It’s right there on page …” Ron turned to Harry, “Do you remember what page it’s on?”

Harry, who had been sitting throughout the meeting staring fixedly at the wall in front of him, merely shook his head.

“Hand me my playbook,” Ron ordered Katie then turned in surprise when Hermione stepped up to the group congregated in the far corner of the common room. “What are you doing Mione? This is for team members only.”

“You go right ahead with your ‘team members only’ discussion,” she leveled back. “Harry and I need to do our rounds.”

“But, he’s our Seeker!” Ron retorted. “Besides, he’s supposed to take it easy.”

Harry interjected, “I think I’m going to call it a night. We’re almost finished anyway, right?”

“Well…”

“Come on Harry, it’s late and I want to get to bed before midnight.” She helped him out of the chair and held onto his arm as they exited the common room.

They slowly worked their way along the seventh floor. When they turned down the remote short hallway at the east end (a favorite make-out spot), she whispered a Muffliato. “It sure is odd about Professor Snape.”

“Yeah.”

She glanced sideways at Harry’s tense face.

“I’m actually… a little worried about him.”

“Me too. I know something’s happened to him, I just know it.”

“Have you spoken to the Headmaster?”

He nodded and made to cast a Muffliato.

“I already cast one Harry.”

“Oh.” He still gave a quick glance left and right. “This is going to come out in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning.”

“What is?”

“There was an attack on Azkaban two nights ago and a bunch of Death Eaters escaped.”

“What?”

The Headmaster told me not to say anything, but he thinks that’s why Severus was summoned.”

“Oh Harry.”

“Dumbledore said that Severus sent his Patronus to him, early yesterday morning.”

That’s just about the time you started feeling ill.”

“Yeah, I managed to figure that one out already. Thanks.”

“Sorry,” she whined …which didn’t help. “But listen, I know he’ll be okay. I mean, we’re talking about Professor Snape.”

“He’s not invincible, y’know!”

“You care about him, don’t you” her question sounded more like a confirmation. She’d noticed the ease and rapport between the two wizards.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “He helped me so much over the summer and well…” he searched for a way to describe what Severus meant to him. Then he turned at looked directly at Hermione.

“Sev is so strong and smart. He knows what I’m up against and what I’ve been through. He helps me figure things out, kind of like …” Harry had been thinking of father or friend, but neither of those words seemed to fit. He did know though that Severus meant a lot to him and that the sage wizard was someone he could depend on and trust.

“Like what?” Hermione pressed.

But before he could answer, Dobby appeared. “Harry Potter!”

The two teens jumped at the elf’s sudden appearance. Then Harry quickly and effortlessly, not to mention wandlessly, ended Hermione’s Muffliato charm and asked, “What?”

“Harry Potter is asking Dobby to report when Professor Snape is returning.”

“He’s back?”

“Yes, and Harry Potter must be coming with Dobby quickly!”

“Why? Is he hurt?”

Dobby donned a curious expression as he held out Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. “Harry Potter must come quickly,” he repeated.

Harry turned to Hermione. “You gotta cover for me Mione. Tell Ron I had to go see the Headmaster, or something.”

“Okay, but won’t you need help?”

Harry shook his head. “If he isn’t hurt then it’s something … private.” The worried teen dragged his hand through his hair. “No, I'd better go alone. That’s best.”

He pulled Dobby next to him then swung his cloak to cover them both and they immediately vanished.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“He’s in there?” Harry whispered with surprise as the elf pointed to Severus’ private laboratory. 

Dobby nodded.

“Okay,” he looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was around and then took off his cloak. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Is Harry Potter needing help?” Dobby’s eyes were wide with concern.

Harry knelt down, “Do me a favor.”

“Anything Dobby can be doing for Harry Potter, Dobby is happy to be doing!” he nearly jumped up and down in his stocking clad feet.

“After everyone’s gone to bed, sneak in and line up the pillows on my bed and then pull the blanket over them so that it looks like me.”

Dobby stared questioningly at his favorite wizard, “Dobby is thinking no one will believe that the pillows are Harry Potter.”

“Close the drapes around my bed closed, but leave them open a crack. They all know Madame Pomfrey gave me something to sleep so they won’t try to wake me.”

Dobby started to pull worriedly on his ear, “Well … all right. Dobby will be doing this for Harry Potter.”

He patted Dobby on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” he added softly. “And thanks for helping me.”

Not terribly reassured, Dobby vanished and Harry turned to face the door. He cast one more cautious glance down the hallway, then quietly turned the handle and stepped inside.

Severus was at the opposite end of the room standing halfway inside a large storage cupboard.

“Sev?”

He didn’t respond and didn’t seem to even realize that Harry was there, but instead continued moving vials around — searching for something.

“Are you okay?” Harry tried again as he walked warily foreword until he came to stand beside the tall wizard, then he crooked his neck to see inside the cupboard as Severus continued his frantic search.

“What are you looking for?”

“It’s not here,” he finally spoke. “It should be here. Right here! I always keep it here.” He spoke in a rushed voice as he repeatedly jabbed and pointed his finger at one particular spot on the shelf.

His eyes had a strange look about them, he was pallid and his brow was furrowed. When Harry reached out and touched him, he felt Severus trembling.

“Let me help. What is it you need?”

Severus staggered back a couple of steps, “There isn’t any,” he dragged his shaking hand down his sweaty cheek. “I remember now. I was going to make more this winter,” he started to pant and his breaths became more and more ragged with each passing second.

“Make what?” Harry asked desperately. He was scared. He’d never seen Severus or anybody for that fact, act like this.

Severus leaned against the wall and slid down to a crouched position. “What am I going to do?” he asked as he started to rock his torso forward and backward. “I must prepare the draught.”

Harry knelt down and grabbed a hold of Severus’ shoulders, trying to stop his rocking. “What draught?”

“Peace.” He looked up desperately to Harry. “I need peace.” 

Harry’s heart was racing with fear. “Peace? I don’t understand. You need…” Then he gasped with realization. “You’re trying to make the Draught of Peace?”

Severus tried to get up, “Hellebore. I need to harvest Hellebore for the syrup.”

“Listen to me Sev, you’re not going anywhere. Something’s happened to you and I’m gonna to get help.”  He opened his mouth to call for Dobby when Severus let out a blood curdling scream.

“No!!!!!!!!!!!”

Harry fell off kilter, not only from shock but from the fact that Severus had now grabbed a hold of his shoulders. 

“No one can see me. I must be strong, always … strong.” His voice started to catch. Then he suddenly pushed Harry to the floor, struggled to his feet and staggered out of the lab.

Harry was shocked. It took him a moment, but he scrambled to his own feet then took off down the hallway after Severus.

He found the distraught man wedged into a corner of his sitting room with his hands over his face.

“How could he do that to her???” he sobbed. “Why did he hurt her???”

Harry stood staring helplessly until he remembered the vial from Madame Pomfrey and snatched it from his pocket. “Look Sev! I found some!” He took a sniff, not sure if Severus would be able to smell the second potion. “Here, drink this.”  

Severus willingly drank the entire contents then sucked in a breath of shock. “It's not pure. It's not...” The potion hit him like a ton of bricks and he crumpled to the floor before Harry could react.

“Oh God!” Harry dropped down beside him, “are you okay?”

Severus wrapped his arms around himself and began his rocking again as he mewled incoherent sounds.

“Listen Sev, it’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

Harry clambered back up and levitated Severus, still rocking and mumbling to himself, to his bedroom and lowered him gently on his bed.

The distraught wizard immediately rolled onto his side and curled up into a fetal position. “The stairs.” 

Harry sat down and laid a blanket over Severus as he continued with his incoherent remarks, but at least now he was relaxed. “She screamed,” his voice sounded thin and feeble.

Harry was brushing Severus’ damp hair away from his cool, clammy brow when those last few words struck him with a cold familiarity.

Screaming? Stairs? He took hold of Severus’s clenched hand, “Are you talking about your dream? You are, aren’t you?”

“She died.” There were tears rolling down his cheeks now and they began to make a wet spot as they fell upon his pillow.

Harry could barely take a breath, “Sev, who are you talking about? Who was she?”

He answered in a whisper as he drifted off, “Her name was Rosa.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Neville padded quietly back from the loo, trying to put as little of his feet possible on the chilly stone floor.

He could have worn his warm felt-lined leather slippers; in fact his Gran was adamant that he wear slippers when at home, as the notion of bare feet was simply too provincial, but his slippers had a tendency to thwatas he walked, which inevitably woke up Seamus. So, bare feet it was.

He yawned hugely as he closed the bedroom door and decided to check on Harry on his way back to his bed.

The four roommates had held a worried conversation earlier that night when they turned out their lights, over the fact that Harry had not yet returned from his meeting with the Headmaster.

"Psssssst."

He turned to see Ron, who was propped up on one elbow, give a short upward nod of his head in the direction of Harry's bed.

Neville peered through the slightly parted drapes and saw what he assumed was Harry.

"He's asleep," mouthed Neville and gave Ron a thumbs-up.

Satisfied, the red head plopped back down on his bed and breathed a sigh of relief.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"God, it's cold," Harry pulled the black cashmere sweater he'd found draped across the back of Sev's desk chair tightly around him. Despite sitting next to the roaring fire and the warming charm Dumbledore had cast, and the sweater — he was still freezing.

"Drink this," Dumbledore pressed the warm cup of tea into the young man's cold hands then went to sit in the opposite chair and watched with concern as Harry took a few sips.

"What's taking so long?"

"It's only been a few minutes," Dumbledore replied assuredly.

After Severus had fallen asleep, Harry debated whether or not to get help. He knew it would kill Severus to have anyone see him so…vulnerable, but he also knew that Sev and Dumbledore were close friends. And quite frankly, he didn't know what was wrong with Severus or how to deal with it.

"Can you continue now to relay what happened?"

Dumbledore's words barely registered, "What did you say?"

"You had reached the point where you gave Severus the potion," Dumbledore tried redirecting the frazzled young wizard.

"Sorry Sir. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"No doubt this was highly stressful for you, but it is imperative that you relay all you witnessed and heard. It may help us to help Severus."

"I'll try." Harry pulled the sweater more tightly to him as he tried to regroup, "Um...well, after I gave him the potion, he started talking about that dream he always has."

Dumbledore furrowed his brows. "What dream might that be?"

"I guess dreamwouldn't be right," Harry tucked his legs up onto the chair, "it's a nightmare ... and it's scary."

"A nightmare?" Dumbledore confirmed. "And you say it reoccurs?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed and then began to recite the scenes of Severus's nightmare. "It's always the same," he closed his eyes. "He hears someone screaming. He runs out of his room to see who it is, but there's all this mist and he gets scared, so he calls for his Mum."

"Excuse me for interrupting, but you said that he calls for his…Mum?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked tiredly at the old wizard, "Sir, in this dream, Sev is just a little boy."

Albus felt a chill run through him, "I didn't realize. Please continue."

"Well, like I said…there's all this screaming and he goes looking for his Mum but he can't find her. Pretty soon he gets to the stairs and then … he wakes up."

Albus felt as though he'd missed a step.

"I think now he knows who it was."

"Who it was? Are you referring to the person who was screaming?"

"No Sir, his Mum was the one screaming." He couldn't hold back the tears that suddenly filled his eyes. "I don't know who she was, but it was someone named Rosa."

"I'm sorry Harry, you've lost me. Who was Rosa/i?"

"I think Sev really loved her." Then he finished in a whisper, "But she fell down the stairs and … died."

"Dear Merlin. Why has he never mentioned this to me?"

"I don't think even heremembered … not until tonight."

"My, my," Dumbledore considered this profound statement as he stroked his long white beard. "Is there anything else you remember?"

Harry nodded and discreetly wiped away his tears. "This isn't part of his dream … it's more like a feeling I have."

"Please continue."

"I don't think Rosa's falling down the stairs was an accident: I think someone pushed her. And whoever it was, that person was important to Sev." The chill that had plagued him all night was getting worse. "He kept asking…'why did he do it'?"

Dumbledore crossed his arms closely to his chest. "Oh Severus," he whispered.

Harry pressed his fingers to his temples and grimaced slightly.

"Are you ill?"

"No … I don't know. I haven't been feeling too good."

"Yes, Poppy informed me of your visit to the infirmary. Perhaps you should lie down."

Harry glanced over to the clock; it was nearly two o'clock. "If I do, will you wake me when she comes out?"

Dumbledore tipped his head to the side. It wasn't really quitea nod and Harry wasn't really quitecertain if the Headmaster had agreed or not, but he wasn't feeling well at all, so he went ahead and laid down on the couch in the library.

He must have dosed off for no sooner had he closed his eyes but that it seemed he suddenly heard hushed voices. He quietly got up and tiptoed over to the door and saw that Madame Pomfrey was now sitting in the chair where he'd been sitting earlier.

"Dehydrated?" asked Albus.

"Yes," Poppy confirmed," and he is physically drained. His readings were quite alarming, but I've taken care of all that and he's resting now." She sighed then leaned forward and asked, "What did Harry tell you about the way Severus acted, or anything he may have said?"

Dumbledore relayed the details of the nightmare to the Mediwitch then she pressed her lips together and nodded to herself, as if she already had already known but simply needed the information for confirmation.

"What is it Poppy? What do you think has happened to him?" Albus asked worriedly.

She made a sort of 'tisc' sound as she parted her lips to speak, "Based on your report and Severus's physical condition, I believe that he has suffered an emotional collapse. A nervous breakdown if you will."

Harry felt like he'd just been hit by the Whomping Willow. And even though Madame Pomfrey began a clinical explanation that 'a collapse of this nature could be categorized into varying degrees of severity' and that 'of course an individual can fully recover from such an event,' her words seemed to sail right past him as though they were made of wind.

How could this have happened to Sev?wondered Harry. Even though he'd told Hermione that Severus wasn't invincible, deep down he had placed Sev in just that position, as someone Harry could always depend upon and count on to be strong.

He found that as he watched Madame Pomfrey speak to Dumbledore, he could no longer hear her voice. An ominous silence seemed to reach up and it wrap itself all around him, covering him in a gray mist — just like the one in Sev's dream. The last thing Harry remembered before he disappeared into the mist was the sudden jolt as he hit the floor.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Voldemort's footfalls echoed up and down the cavernous staircase as he ascended each stone step.

He'd just investigated the lower level where he had discovered a magnificent dungeon still host to several old apparatus of torture, and had now begun his trek upward, working his way up the mighty central staircase and stopping off to explore the four separate wings on each level.

On the third floor he discovered a smaller staircase, narrow and harbored between the west and east wings on the north side of the fortress. Voldemort followed its tantalizing trail to discover two suites of rooms on what turned out to be a secluded forth floor.

No doubt these suites were living quarters and unlike the rest of the edifice; the finishing work here was quite opulent: gilded ceilings, ornately carved wooden doors and solariums of beveled glass.

The words of his wise old friend from Niigata rang in his mind, All things happen for a reason.

If that annoying Order of the Phoenix hadn't discovered his manor in Ireland, perhaps he never would have made the effort to discover this magnificent Fastness. But now that he had, he would claim it as his own. After all, only two people on the planet could have read the Parseltongue which identified the hidden location of this Fastness, and of those two individuals, only one was a direct descendent of the great Salazar Slytherin.

Voldemort walked over to one of the beveled windows and stared down at the raging torrent below, "I claim this Fastness as mine. It shall be my home and the headquarters for my Death Eaters." He then inhaled a lungful of the stale cold air, drawing a breath of the ancient Fastness into his very being.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Did you have a good visit?" Dumbledore asked Channon Jackson as he walked into the Headmaster's office.

"Yes we did. But for your information, Harry isn't in the infirmary, he's up in the tower."

"He is?" Dumbledore's eyebrow peaked over the rims of his glasses. "I didn't know Poppy had released him."

"Apparently just before I arrived. He's resting up in his dorm room now; Ron and Hermione are staying with him."

"How was he?"

Channon shook his head, "He's so pale Albus; whatever that virus was - it certainly took its toll."

"Thank goodness we caught it before it before it spread to the other Halfbloods."

"And you say that Severus is also ill?"

Dumbledore nodded. "We believe it was Severus who was first exposed when he was away from the castle. Then he apparently passed it on to Harry during one of their training sessions."

The old wizard turned away and walked toward his desk. He hated lying to Channon but there was no choice. As it stood only Dumbledore, Poppy, Harry and Minerva knew the truth regarding the breakdown and the apparent connection between the two wizards.

Poppy had determined that Harry was experiencing a reflection of Severus's symptoms. The only possible explanation they found plausible was that some sort of connection had formed the night of Harry's transformation when his magic enveloped the older wizard.

"I want to thank you for taking over this project," Albus collected the rolled parchment from his desk and handed it to Channon. "As I stated previously, if you could decipher that one remaining sequence we will be able to break the wards surrounding Voldemort's manor. I wish I could continue, but with my upcoming commitments I simply won't be able to."

"Don't give it another thought. I know that time is of the essence and to be honest, I appreciate the opportunity to help."

Channon's expression turned to one of concern, "Will you please keep me apprised of Harry's progress?"

"I'll arrange for Poppy to send word to you." Albus escorted Channon over to the Floo and then added, "However you might consider Owling him yourself."

"You're right," the younger man shrugged uncomfortably. "This summer slipped by so quickly; I promised I'd write, but I seemed to have come up short."

"Then why not consider this a lesson learned."

"I will." Channon nodded his head, "I'm going to make more of an effort to keep in contact with him."

"I know that Harry looks up to you and I'm certain your efforts would mean a great deal to him."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

After Channon Floo'd back to the Ministry, Dumbledore went to check on his ailing friend. But no sooner had he stepped from the Floo in Severus's sitting room, when he heard a tense discussion coming from the bedroom.

"As usual Poppy you are overreacting. A day of rest and I'll be fine."

"Well if I'm overreacting then you're being foolishly cavalier with regards to your own well being."

"What happened was simply a matter of overwork and dehydration," the tiredness in his voice countered his claim. "Now please stop your touting and leave me to rest. I have classes to teach tomorrow."

Poppy was about to hit the roof when Dumbledore strolled into the room. "Ah Severus, I can tell you are feeling better."

The pale wizard glanced briefly to the doorway then returned his attention to his latest copy of Potions Compendium Monthly.

The Mediwitch marched across the room and hissed on her way out, "See if you can talk some sense into him."

Dumbledore stood for a moment considering the situation, and then he took a seat next to the bed and waited quietly as Severus flipped slowly through the pages of his magazine.

"Haven't you anything better to do than sit here and watch me read?"

Albus remained silent and bided his time. It worked; Severus tossed the periodical to the foot of the bed. "What do you want?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and pondered how best to proceed. Severus was in denial of the emotional component of his collapse, and his flat out refusal to see a counselor had left Albus in a difficult position. The entire incident, of course, needed to remain under wraps and so he was faced with the decision to either try to help Severus himself and risk doing more harm than good, or do nothing and allow this recent realization to slip from Severus's conscious mind and recess back to the depths where it had hidden for so many years.

"Would you answer a question for me?"

"If I can," Severus tensed.

"Who was Rosa?"

It was a good thing he was lying down. His breath caught for a moment and all the color drained from his face. "How do you know about her?"

Albus proceeded cautiously, "Do you remember what transpired when you returned to the castle?"

Severus laced his fingers together and busily began worrying his two thumbs, "Not clearly."

"Harry found you. You told him of your realization." Dumbledore warmed the cup of tea sitting on the nightstand and handed it to his friend. It contained a dose of Draught of Peace, which Poppy had prescribed for Severus to take for the next week or so.

He had been correct that night in realizing that he needed the draught to counteract the effects of his emotional state. And the fact that he received it so promptly had stopped the process from causing any further damage.

"Severus?" Albus pressed.

"She was my nanny," his voice was soft and he stared blankly at the bedcover.

"No doubt she was very important to you."

"Apparently," he huffed, "This is all quite disheartening — embarrassing actually."

"You mustn't think that way."

Severus shook his head slightly, "The fact that a House Elf has caused me so much turmoil… and now this."

Albus leaned forward, "She did care for you when you were but a child; we are all so malleable and sensitive at that stage of life."

Severus nodded but remained quiet for a long time. Now that the memory of her death had resurfaced, he had begun to remember other memories. Little things like the way she was always there for him when he needed her, how she would play games with him, sing to him and take care of him when he was sick.

"And obviously this was something that you needed to address; your reoccurring nightmare speaks to that fact."

"I suppose I have Harry to thank for that."

Albus winced, "Please don't blame him. I asked him for information. We needed to understand your situation in order to help you." Not wanting the conversation to stray, he readdressed the topic of Rosa. "Harry also mentioned that you kept asking 'Why did he do that to her?'"

Severus had been about to take a sip of his tea but stopped— suddenly, then set his cup back down which clinked on the saucer as his hands started to tremble.

"Let me take that for you." Albus took the cup and saucer then turned back to Severus who had somehow managed to become even more pale.

"Who did it? Who was he/i?"

"My father." Now Severus's entire being began to tremble. "He and my mother were arguing, as they often did. But this time he began to hit her and she screamed. That was when I awoke."

"Rosa was with you?"

Severus nodded. "She always sat by my bed and sang to me … until I fell asleep." It took him a moment to continue, "I ran out of my room to see why my mother was screaming. Rosa followed me and when she saw what was happening, she ran over to try to stop him."

Severus wrapped his arms around himself, "He grabbed her … he grabbed Rosa," Severus's voice hitched, "then he threw her down the stairs."

"Oh Severus, I am so sorry." Albus moved over to sit on the bed and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "What made you finally remember this?"

Without revealing being raped, Severus relayed his activities during those two harrowing days. How he had worked feverishly, barely eaten, had gone from one safe hold to the next taking care of the prisoners and all of this with no time to rest.

Severus suddenly gasped, "Dear Merlin, I completely forgot to report what has happened."

"You are referring to the prison break no doubt … and the escaped Death Eaters?"

Severus nodded and dragged a hand through his hair. "How could I have forgotten this? Why haven't you mentioned it?"

"My dear friend, I have had far more important matters on my mind then prison breaks and Death Eater activities." Albus smiled kindly, "Please try to continue: what happened to spur your repressed memory of Rosa?"

Severus withdrew slightly from Albus's kindness, "It happened the second night. I was attending to Dolohov's wounds when I heard a commotion out in the hallway. I went to investigate and when I stepped outside the door, I saw Malfoy kick one of the elves down the stairs."

Severus stopped and stared out across his bedroom. "I don't remember anything after that. I don't even know how I got back to the castle."

Albus again offered him the tea, "Please try to finish this. It will help."

"Yes, you're correct." Severus's hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the cup, but he finished the tea and lay back against his pillows. "It's difficult … trying to deal with all of this."

"Listen to me Severus," Albus took the now empty cup, "I know of a place, a very peaceful place. It is here on the castle grounds and is protected by a Fidelius Charm. I believe it would be an ideal place for you to recover and if I may, I would like to accompany you." Dumbledore's expression spoke of his concern and compassion for his dear, dear friend. "We will have ample time to talk through all that is troubling you."

Severus nodded his agreement, then after a few moments he asked very quietly, "I would like to see Harry though, before we leave."

"I hope you don't harbor any ill will toward him for telling me about…"

"No, it's not that," Severus interrupted. "I simply wish to thank him for helping me."

Albus smiled with relief. "I'll make the necessary arrangements."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry stared up at the Snitch as it flew wildly round and round the warded area over his bed.

After Channon's visit and hearing all about the efforts in trying to decipher the wards around Voldemort's manor, Harry had decided to try his hand at creating a ward.

He'd been lying on his back for nearly two days now, under stern orders from Madame Pomfrey to 'stay in bed or else.'

Neville came in and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the frantic Snitch flying around in the confined ball of space. "Cool Harry. How did you do that?"

"I made a ward," he replied flatly. Making the ward had at least gotten his mind off the events of the other night.

"Wow, I can barely manage a Shield charm, and you're making wards." He sighed and then moved toward the bed for a closer look.

Harry noticed that Neville was a tad upset. "What's wrong? You're not miffed about my ward, are you?"

"No it's not that." Neville sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's girls."

"Girls? As in … Luna?"

"That's the one," he glanced up at the flashes of gold above him.

"Did you two have a row?"

"No, that's not it." Neville took a deep breath and grit his teeth, "Luna wants to do it."

Harry gasped slightly with surprise, "That's great!"

Neville's worried expression turned frantic. "No it's not! I've never… What if she realizes…"

"Wait a minute," Harry sat up straighter. "Why are you getting so worked up? It's not like she's a pro or anything."

"How do you know?" He asked accusingly.

Harry leaned back in defense. "I'm just guessing. I mean … we're talking about Luna. Right?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to get shirty."

"Don't worry about it."

Neville stood up suddenly, "I can't even think of where to go. If I bring her up here, everyone will know." He bit his lips then looked to Harry. "Do you know of a good spot?"

He was about to mention the potting shed when they heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Professor McGonagall. I wish to speak with you Harry."

"Shite," Neville started as Harry released the ward and the Snitch began to fly frantically around the room.

"Um … just a minute." He quickly summoned the Snitch and sent it to his trunk. "Okay Professor, come on in."

The stern witch opened the door, "Mr. Longbottom, would you please excuse us a moment?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Neville nearly sprinted from the room.

McGonagall waited for the door to close before commencing. "The Headmaster would like you to report to his office tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. Will you be able to manage, or shall I accompany you?"

"Why?" Harry immediately suspected the worse. "Has something happened?"

She explained that the Headmaster would be leaving for a week or so and that she would be in charge while he was gone. "Perhaps as Head Boy, the Headmaster simply wishes to discuss the situation with you."

"Did he say anything about Professor Snape? How he's doing?"

"I am told his condition is improved." She brushed back the few stray hairs that had worked their way loose from her bun. "To be perfectly honest Potter, the Headmaster is accompanying Professor Snape to someplace where he can recuperate."

"Accompanying him?" Where are they going?"

"I'm sorry Potter, but I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you." McGonagall gave him that sympathetic laced adamant look she'd get sometimes, which irked Harry to no end.

He knew it was a lost cause. "Yes Ma'am," he acquiesced and then sank down onto his pillow.

~~~~~SH~~~~

The following day, while the majority of students were in class, Harry made his way to the Headmaster's tower. Even though he'd regained quite a bit of his strength, the trek across the seventh floor had left him feeling as though he'd jogged around the lake — twice.

The spiral staircase seemed especially steep and he was nearly out of breath by the time he reached the top step.

"Enter," Dumbledore called out when Harry knocked and he opened the door to the sight of the old wizard standing at the entry to the annex.

He smiled at the teen and pointed to the opposite side of the room then entered the annex and closed the door behind him.

Confused, Harry peered around the door and saw Severus sitting in a squishy chair near the far window; he looked pale and fragile and was wearing that cashmere sweater Harry had worn the night of the breakdown.

"Sir?" Harry walked tentatively over to the frail looking wizard. When he neared the chair, Severus stiffened and turned slightly away.

He stopped right where he was and stared at Severus who busied himself with looking out the window.

"Hi Sev," he tried again as he took another step closer.

Severus glanced quickly to Harry but then looked back out the window. "Thank you for coming."

Harry looked over to see if he was missing something outside, a Thestral flying by perhaps; there wasn't anything but blue sky. "Um ... you're welcome." He didn't know what else to say after the awkward greeting.

They stayed like that for a few moments, not interacting but only listening to the tick-tock of the mantel clock which seemed rather loud as it echoed in the uncomfortable silence of the room.

Then Harry noticed Severus tremble slightly as he drew a breath to speak, "I wish to apologize for my actions the other night."

"Why?"

Severus turned toward Harry but wouldn't look directly at him. "Because my actions were inexcusable."

Harry knelt down next to the chair. "You were sick ... that's all."

Severus busied himself with a piece of lint on his sweater.

"Please Sir ..."

"My name is Severus," he interjected and then finally looked at Harry. "You're so pale."

"Look who's talking," Harry said lightly in an attempt to ease the tension.

"They told me that my condition had an affect upon you." He paused as he took in the dark circles under Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about me; I'll be fine," as long as you arehe thought but didn't say."

"When Madame Pomfrey explained what happened to you," Harry continued. "I think I passed out. And now they're telling me that you're going away." His voice started to wobble. Seeing Severus like this was more upsetting than he thought it would be. "Where are you going?"

The sound of worry in Harry's voice pulled at Severus's heart and his precarious condition. He reached a shaky arm around the teen and immediately, his experience of being injured on Samhain sprang to his mind.

"Do you recall last year when the Dark Lord attacked you?

The sudden change of topic took Harry by surprise. "What? Uh ... sure I remember, but what does that …"

"Something happened that night; I've meant to ask you about it for a while now."

"Ask me about what?"

"Do you …" He wasn't quite sure how to phrase what happened. "Did you come to me?"

Harry froze. "You mean … that really happened? I thought it was a dream."

"Please tell me what you experienced."

Harry sighed and leaned slightly against Severus' arm. "I felt you, when you tried to help me Occlude. Then I had that surge and I knew you'd been hurt."

He looked up into the tired ebony eyes. "You went away … so I followed you."

"Why have you never mentioned this?"

"I didn't think it was real," Harry shrugged. "I thought I just dreamt it."

Severus thought about how secure he had felt when Harry's love had followed him to his subconscious. "I felt you. At first, there was only darkness and then I felt something wrap itself around me. It made me feel safe."

Harry gasped. "That was me," he whispered in surprise.

"I thought I would never feel anything like that again."

Harry wasn't sure about this, but he reached up and hugged Severus. "You're not alone. I'm right here," he said and then offered. "You took care of me when I was sick; I'll come and take care of you now."

Severus felt his emotions begin to swell in response to Harry's compassion. Even so, he pulled the young man's arms gently from him and then held the smaller hands in his own. "You are also ill. You need to recover, as do I."

"But I'm afraid I'll lose you," Harry finally confessed as tears filled his eyes. "Something always happens to those I care about. I need to make sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine," Severus reassured and he looked into the emerald eyes which reminded him of Lily. "Albus is coming with me."

Harry was trying his utmost to hold himself together. "Okay, but you gotta promise me you'll come back. All right? Promise."

"I promise." This emotional discussion had exhausted Severus and he laid his head back against the soft chair and closed his eyes.

"Don't worry about me," Harry rallied. "I'll be fine. You just get better, okay?" He spoke assuredly and readjusted their hands so that now he was holding Severus'. "Just remember how this feels," he said as he squeezed the potion stained hands. "You're not alone Sev ... not anymore."

“Budge over.”

Hermione’s voice startled him and he quickly closed the book then nodded toward the opposite side of the library table.

“Sit over there.”

“No.” She leaned down so as not to be overheard. “I want to sit next to you.”

“Oh for the love of …” He had barely gotten his bag out of the way before she sat down next to him. “Do you mind? I wanted some privacy.”

“Harry Potter, you’ve been avoiding us all week: getting up early, coming back to the tower late at night, disappearing between classes.”

She touched his hand, the one covering the book. “What’s wrong? Does it have something to do with Professor Snape?”

Harry immediately cast a Muffliato, “You heard the announcement, same as everyone else. He’s got that flu and has to stay in his quarters.”

“Oh stop with the flu business. How is it that you’re all right now, but he’s still sick?” She noticed the partially hidden book. “And I don’t believe that the Headmaster is at a conference either.”

Harry made to slide the book into his bag but the inquisitive witch quickly Accio'd it to her. “What’s this?”

“Hey, give that back.”

She read the title: ‘The Journey from Breakdown to Recovery.’

He snatched the book and shoved it into his book-bag then turned and glared daggers at Hermione. “Don’t you ever say anything about this to anyone, or I’ll never talk to you again.”

She hadn’t seen him this worked up since that night in the Shrieking Shack when he yelled at Sirius. “What’s wrong? What kind of breakdown is the title referring to?”

“You’re awfully nosey Hermione, y’know that? It’s none of your business!”

“I’m sorry! I’m just worried about you.” She tried to hold his hand but he snatched it away.

Hermione sat frozen with her hand hovering above where Harry’s had just been. Obviously she had crossed a line — and she knew it. But she also knew that he needed a friend.

“Listen, I said I was sorry. I had no business looking at your book. I apologize.”

Harry turned away from her. The truth of the matter was he did need a friend; he needed someone to talk to because he was worried sick.

He’d gone to Madame Pomfrey to see if perhaps she could give him an update on Severus’s progress. But she said she couldn’t discuss the situation with him, something having to do with doctor/patient confidentiality.

“Hermione … do you know anything about doctor/patient confidentiality?”

“What does that have to do with …?”

“Would you for once in your life just answer me and not ask any questions?”

She could see now that he was trembling. “Oh Harry.” 

Reaching the end of his rope, he sort of just sank where he sat. “Please just tell me what it means.”

Hermione wanted to give him a big hug but she knew that Harry would never stand to be fussed over. “Well, doctor/patient confidentiality is the principle that states that an individual or institution cannot reveal data to a third party.”

He stared at her a moment but then looked away. “That’s why she won’t talk to me,” he mumbled to himself, “she thinks I’m just a third party.”

“Who thinks you’re a third party? What are you talking about?”

Harry grabbed both of her upper arms in frustration. “I. Can’t. Tell. You! Can’t you understand that?”

His actions shocked her and she leaned back defensively, “Fine Harry! You’ve made your point, but whatever is going on here is making you crazy. Look at you! You’re a mess. You have to talk to someone.”

Hermione began to tremble also, but out of frustration with Harry.

He started to repeat that he couldn’t talk to anyone, but she cut him off, “There is someone you could talk to, someone that by law could never repeat a word of what you said … to anyone.”

“Oh yeah? Who would that be?”

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, “Helena.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Solomon Priestly stepped from one of the spacious commuter Floos lining the far wall in the Atrium and was immediately surrounded by the chaotic hustle and bustle of the numerous Ministry workers Flooing home after a long day’s work.

He stretched and inhaled a deep breath of the familiar scents. Home.

“Solomon old boy, I thought you were up north, teaching.”

The tall wizard turned in response to the familiar voice. “Ah Merritt, good to see you,” and he wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time what had ever possessed him to think he could survive a year surrounded by students. “I’m only here this evening for a meeting.”

“What a pity; the place just isn’t the same without you.”

That comment only ground home the fact that he should have never acquiesced to Dumbledore’s plea to teach.

“So? How is Hogwarts?” asked the stodgy old wizard.

A myriad of adjectives sailed through Priestly’s mind, and as much as he would have loved to stand there and bash the entire nightmare he’d been living the past month, he knew that if he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for his meeting. “It’s all right, I suppose. You know, I haven’t been there in decades, but the castle still looks the same. Not much has changed,” he responded despondently. “Listen, I really must get going or I’ll be late.”

“You’re a better man than I, Solomon.” His coworker waved then toddled off to the Floo. “Don’t be a stranger!”

Solomon nodded then headed for the annex. He hadn’t gone but thirty feet when another voice called out.

“Priestly, is that you?”

Bathed for a moment in his perceived notoriety, Priestly turned and was suddenly taken down a notch by the approach of the auburn haired Eurasian. “Oh, hello Channon.”

“What brings you to the Ministry?”

“I’m here for the meeting,” Solomon clarified.

“I had a feeling that might be the case. That’s where I’m headed.”

Priestly noted the warded casement clutched in the young Unmentionable’s hand. “Is that it?”

Channon’s only acknowledgement was a smile and one raised eyebrow. “Come on, we’d better hurry or we’ll be late.”

“I doubt there’s much they could discuss until you arrive.”

“You have a point.” He then nodded in the direction of the annex and the two wizards fell into step as they headed down the length of the Atrium.

“So how’s the semester going for you?” asked Channon.

“I suppose all right.”

“You don’t sound very convincing.”

“Perhaps,” Solomon left his vague response — hanging.

Channon tried to fathom how Solomon, or anyone for that matter, couldn’t absolutely love spending time at Hogwarts teaching Defense to all of those children.

“You’re not enjoying yourself?” he asked incredulously.

Priestly glanced at the young wizard beside him. For a long while now, he’d been in awe of Channon Jackson — the youngest Unmentionable to be taken into the department in centuries. But the fact that he was indeed young just didn’t sit well with Priestly.

“I suppose I’m simply not accustomed to spending much time around … children.”

“Well, at least you get a chance to work with Harry,” Channon added brightly. “It must be a treat for you to work with him in tactics.”

“Not really.” Solomon slowed his pace, “Actually, I’m not working with him at all.”

Channon stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean?” He held his hands out to his sides. “But you’re his instructor.”

“No, I’m not,” Priestly said in a terse voice. “Albus and Severus are his instructors.”

“Why is that … exactly?”

 “Mr. Potter and I got off to a bad start.” He lowered his gaze, “I suppose I didn’t handle the situation as well as I could have.”

“And?” Channon pressed.

“Albus modified Mr. Potter’s and my teaching arrangement,” Priestly finished with a soft voice.

“I see.” Why didn’t Harry mention any of this during my visit? Channon wondered. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

It was Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in the doorway to the conference room waving at them to ‘hurry up.’

Channon bit his lips, vacillating whether or not to interfere. “Solomon, would you mind staying after? I’d like to continue our conversation.”

All of this went against his very grain. Solomon Priestly did things by the book. Using this method had always worked perfectly for him. It was only these blasted children and that incident with Potter that didn’t — wouldn’t fit into his ordered approach.

“Solomon?”

“I don’t know what good would come of discussing it.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Channon placated, “but I’d still appreciate just a few minutes of your time.”

Solomon glanced over at Shacklebolt whom was waving more insistently now. “Oh all right.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

They entered the small conference room just as Shacklebolt sat down at one end of a large Birchwood table. Situated to his right was Nymphadora Tonks and John Dawlish; Solomon immediately went to join the two Aurors.

Across from them sat Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley and his son Bill. The only seat left was the one on the side opposite Kingsley Shacklebolt. Channon walked over and sat there.

With everyone situated, Shacklebolt pointed his wand to close the door then warded it and cast a Muffliato.

“Thank you all for coming. I first want to extend the Minister’s apologies for not being able to attend this meeting. He is rather engaged with matters regarding the recent escape from Azkaban.”

He glanced around to all those assembled; no one seemed to mind the absence of the Minister. “Right then, you all know why you’re here …”

“Excuse me Kingsley,” interrupted Arthur, “but where is Dumbledore?”

“He’s unable to attend this meeting due to a personal commitment, but he does send his regards and his vote of confidence that we will be able to handle matters.”

The black wizard looked at the expectant faces, “Now if there aren’t any other concerns, I’d like to address the matter at hand.” He focused his gaze on Jackson, “You may proceed.”

Channon cleared his throat, removed the precious parchment from its encasement and then stood to address those assembled.

Ninety minutes later, all in attendance were fully briefed as to the location and layout of the manor. They then formulated and settled upon a plan of operations to seize the edifice. With the wards now deciphered there was nothing to stop them from mounting a full on attack.

Shacklebolt would act as Incident Commander and liaison to the Minister. Tonks would head up the Logistics with Dawlish as back-up and Priestly as tactics advisor. Remus was assigned the post of Operations Leader with Bill heading the Ground unit. Arthur gladly took on the job of organizing the Support Branch.

With leaders now assigned to each division, they simply needed to pick a date.

“So when can all of you have your troops assembled and in place?”

A hum filled the room as the Aurors and Order members discussed the logistics involved, then they looked tentatively toward each other from the opposite sides of the table.

“In two days?” offered Remus.

The three Aurors nodded their heads. “We can do that.”

“All right then,” confirmed Shacklebolt, “have your troops assembled at the assigned location in the Glenballyeamon valley at 0900 hours this Sunday. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” they all replied.

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Harry closed the door and leaned heavily against it as he stared at Helena, whom had already arrived and was sitting in her usual chair.

She always took the one facing away from the window, something about daylight being unforgivingly revealing. None of that made sense to him, but the sight of her blue eyes and compassionate smile washed over him like a panacea.

“I fixed you a cup of tea,” she nodded to the side table as she hid her reaction to his appearance, for Harry looked utterly frazzled: pale and with dark circles under his eyes.

He dropped his book-bag next to the door then walked over and sank heavily into the chair facing the window.

As Helena waited in silence for Harry to sip some tea, she wondered what on earth could have possibly happened since she’d last seen him. Whatever it was, it had been traumatic, for he hadn’t looked this bad since the summer when she’d first started working with him.

When he set down his cup and settled back in his chair, Helena began their conversation. “Hard week?”

“I guess you could say that.” He placed his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his forehead on his outstretched fingertips.

She waited.

“I don’t know where to start.”

Helena smiled. “Just pick one Harry.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

Again — she waited.

“Okay,” he laid his head against the back of the chair. “Scared to death.”

That was a bit more then she’d expected, “All right. So what is it that has you scared to death?”

“First, I have to ask you something.” He tensed, as if he were bracing himself to tackle something monumental. “Is what I say to you ...?” He tried again, “Is it true that you can’t say anything about …?”  This was proving harder to do then he’d expected. “Have you ever heard about doctor/patient confidentiality?”

Her eyebrows peeked with surprise. “A time or two … yes.”

“Hermione told me that you can’t repeat anything I tell you, but I didn’t believe her.”

Helena straightened her blue robes. “She is partially correct. Anything you tell me in our sessions is confidential, as long as what you reveal does not involve an illegal action or self harm. Other than that, I am legally bound not to discuss the content of our conversations with any person or any institution … ever.”

A team of emotions began to well up, hiding just beneath the surface of his expression, and it seemed to Helena as if Harry was about to shatter.

“What’s wrong Harry?”

“It’s happened again, just like my parents and Sirius.”

“What’s happened?”

“I can’t lose him,” the desperation he felt saturated his thin and strained voice.

“Lose who? Who are you talking about?”

“Severus.”

Her breath caught and it was a moment before she could ask, “Tell me what happened.”

“He got sick … and had to go away.”

That sounded terribly similar to what had happened to Anthony. No wonder Harry was distraught.

“Was he injured?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Harry waved his hand and warded the small room, his ward being ten times the strength of any Muffliato charm. Then he peered cautiously at her with emerald eyes, “You promise you can’t repeat any of this.”

“Not a word. What you say to me is confidential. I would never … I could never repeat a single word of it.”

They stared at each other in utter silence. Finally Harry spoke softly, “He had a breakdown.”

The room was silent but for the sound of Helena quietly closing her notepad and slipping it into the outside pocket of her valise.

“All right Harry,” she spoke in a tone of quiet strength, “let’s start at the beginning.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

A strike team made up of Aurors and Order members was staged around the perimeter of Voldemort’s manor, hidden by a Disillusionment charm; they were poised and ready to attack.

When the signal was given, they began to Apparate simultaneously into the various rooms of the manor; nearly three dozen wizards and witches in total infiltrated every corner of the massive building.  

Remus headed the group that Apparated into the drawing room. Standing in a circle with their backs to each other, they had their wands drawn — ready to do battle.

“What the hell?” he stared dumbfounded at the empty room.

“What’s going on?” sounded a voice from the foyer.

“Is this a joke or something?” echoed another voice from the second floor hallway.

After about thirty seconds Remus relaxed his stance and indicated for his team to do likewise.

Bill Weasley walked through the double doors then stopped and stared at Remus in disbelief. “I think we’re a tad late.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Hey Luna! You got any more Chocolate Frogs?"

Luna's Spectraspecs slipped down her nose when she turned around, "Sorry Ron … no I don't. But you can have my two remaining delicious Canary Creams."

"That'll do. Give'm here; I'm starving."

Luna, Neville, Ron, Hermione and Harry all stopped and watched Luna fish through her purse as the throng of students filed past them, making its way back up to the castle after having watched the first match of the Quidditch season. It had been a long match that had gone into overtime — and the supper hour, and in which Ravenclaw had defeated Hufflepuff by a slim margin.

"Ron, if you eat any more you won't have room for dinner."

As the group waited on Luna, Harry cast a nonchalant glance in Neville's direction. It had been more than a week since they'd had their conversation regarding you know what, and Harry was curious if any progress had been made.

Neville finally noticed Harry looking at him with one eyebrow raised questioningly. He waited a moment and then answered the silent question with blushed cheeks and a tiny smile.

Harry winked.

Ron got his candy and they continued their trek.

"What did you think of Cho?" asked Ron. "She must have practiced over the summer 'cause she's definitely gotten better."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know; her speed's always been her weak spot … still is if you ask me."

Ron shot a sideways glance at his best friend. "So what did Pomfrey say? Can you start practices again?"

"Yeah, I already told you."

"No you didn't," Ron retorted. He'd been worried over the fact that Harry hadn't practiced with the team all week and their first match was the following weekend.

"Well, I thought I did. Sorry."

"No worries. I'm just glad you're better."

"Me too," Harry sighed with relief but for a different reason; he knew that if he was feeling better than Severus would be as well.

Argus Filch stood at the top of the front steps and called Harry over, "Potter! Yer tah go tah the Headmaster's office right away."

"He's back?"

"Course he's back … how else could he ask tah see ya? Now get a move on! He's a waitin for ya."

Harry turned to his friends. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Good luck!" Hermione called out as he took off at a dead run.

"Good luck with what?" asked Ron.

"With whatever it is the Headmaster wants to see him about," she punted.

Ron furrowed his brow and looked at her questioningly. "I think you've lost it Mione. Come on, let's go eat."

~~~SH~~~

Severus laid his hands on the long central work table and closed his eyes.

One, two, three, timed his inhalation in a steady pace then exhaled in a likewise manner. One, two, three, four.

He'd come across this exercise in the book he read the past week, The Journey from Breakdown to Recovery,as a way for an individual to steady their nerves.

He opened his eyes and looked once again around the room.

Despite the fact that it was indeed a wonderful room: large, containing ample counter space, not one but two laboratory sinks, new cauldrons (including one of those platinum ones he'd been wanting for quite a while now), it was in disarray and in his current state the disorder was particularly offensive.

The vast supply of ingredients from the old laboratory at the Dark Lord's manor had been piled into boxes which were now sitting atop the work counters. It would take days, perhaps weeks to get it sorted out and stocked into the storage cupboards.

Severus sighed then walked over and opened the one window at the far end of the room, leaned his head out and took a deep breath.

The view was magnificent; the roar rumbling up from the thunderous river below was enough to still one's heart, and the air — it smelled so clean and fresh.

"Impressive … is it not?"

Severus turned in surprise at the sound of the Dark Lord's voice and quickly bowed.

"I apologize my Lord, I didn't hear you enter."

"No matter." Voldemort strolled casually into the room. "You may rise."

He did so and quickly closed the window.

"What do you think of the room I have chosen for your laboratory?" Voldemort asked as he held his hands outward while looking rather pleased with himself.

"It is truly outstanding, my Lord."

"I wanted you to have the very best."

Severus bowed his head. "Thank you."

Voldemort began to walk slowly down the length of the central work table. "Now what is this I hear of you being ill?"

"I apologize my Lord … it won't happen again."

The dark wizard stopped and turned back to look at him, "Explain."

"I overworked myself taking care of the survivors of the escape. I neglected to eat or take in enough fluids," Severus swallowed and paused his explanation momentarily, "Which in turn led to dehydration and caused a metabolic imbalance in my system."

"And now?" pressed Voldemort.

"I am much better, my Lord."

Voldemort considered the man standing before him. Severus was pale, even more so than usual, and he seemed the slightest bit — frangible. Malfoy had corroborated the fact that Severus had worked ceaselessly tending to the needs of the escaped prisoners, but Voldemort wondered if perhaps his interlude with his favorite Potions Master may have played a part in his current condition.

If it had been anyone else — Voldemort wouldn't have given a damn. But the truth of the matter was that he needed Severus, and he needed him healthy.

"But you are not fully healed; I can see that."

Severus merely looked down.

"You took remarkable care of me last year when I was ill and I insist that you extend to yourself the same consideration."

He walked to the door and placed his boney hand on the knob. "I want you to take a few days to regain your strength; you are no good to me sick and frail. Thenyou may see to assembling my laboratory, but do not overtax yourself."

Severus bowed deeply as Voldemort exited the room, "Yes my Lord."

He waited until the door had clicked closed, then he straightened up and stared in disbelief over the fact that his master had shown him such favor.

~~~SH~~~

"Summoned?" Harry whispered in shock.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed and then held out a small envelope, "He wanted me to give this to you."

Stunned, Harry looked down at the missive.

Always maintain your composure,Severus's counsel echoed in his mind while at the same time Harry's own inner voice wanted to shout at the Headmaster for letting Severus go off to God knows where — when he was supposed to be recuperating.

"When was he summoned?" Harry asked as casually as he could manage.

"This afternoon." Dumbledore handed him the note. "I think it best that you to read it here in my office, and then I will have to destroy it. I'm certain you understand why."

"Yes Sir," he whispered.

Dumbledore moved off to his desk as Harry slowly opened the cream envelope and pulled out the note.

Dear Harry,

As you must know by now, I have been summoned by the Dark Lord. Word reached us earlier today of the failed attempt on the manor, and so this call does not come unexpected. It is imperative that I go and do what I can to discover the whereabouts of his new headquarters.

The time away has been therapeutic for me and I am much improved.

I will send word to you upon my return. Try not to worry.

S./.i

The note was too short, but at least it was something and he was touched that Sev would take the time to write it as his Dark Mark burned.

Harry looked over to the Headmaster whom had placed a small silver plate atop his desk. He walked over - placed the missive on the plate then stepped away and watched as Dumbledore wave his hand; the small missive was quickly devoured by an intense blue flame.

"He wrote that he was better," Harry said as he stared down at the now empty plate.

"He is, my boy." Dumbledore placed his hand on the teen's shoulder. "Severus is feeling much better."

"But the summons … Maybe he shouldn't have gone."

"Harry, you must have faith in his abilities. Severus is very experienced in these matters." He patted him reassuringly, "Try not to worry."

"Yes Sir."

~~~SH~~~

Crabbe joined Goyle as soon as his guard shift ended, then they Apparated into town and headed straight for the Hogs Head.

"Blimey Greg, that's boring stuff."

"Yeah, but it's a far sight better than sitting in that cell; I thought we'd neverget out of there."

They turned the corner then entered the tavern. "Merlin, this ale is gonna taste good."

"Too right," agreed Crabbe as they sidled up to the bar, ordered their drinks then took a seat in a dark booth at the very back.

So much had happened in the past ten days: the prison break from Azkaban, receiving their Dark Marks and becoming junior Death Eaters, the new Headquarters and their new positions as Reception Guards.

They felt like real adults what with their little apartment just outside of town, being real Death Eaters and not having to go to school.

"Hey … who's that fellow? I think I've seen him before," asked Crabbe.

"Who?"

"The bloke sittin' over there in the corner."

Goyle slipped his tongue just under his upper lip as he contemplated the identity of the stranger. "Wait a minute … I know who that is."

He explained that the twitchy wizard in question was a Ministry official by the name of Solomon Priestly and that he was teaching Defense at Hogwarts this year.

"You're winding me up."

"No I'm not. It's true."

"Well then, what the buggery fuck is he doin' sittin' here in a bar on a school night?"

"Who cares."

Crabbe took a couple more sips of his ale, then he set down his tankard as his eyes grew wide with excitement. "Hold on — I just got an idea how we can score some points and maybe get promoted."

"Yeah?" drooled Goyle. "How?"

Crabbe kept one eye on his intended target as he whispered to Goyle, "What do you know about casting an Imperius curse?"

~~~SH~~~

Harry sunk onto the bench and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Where the hell have you been?" asked Ron.

He swallowed that blessed first sip, "I went for a jog."

It was obvious he'd just come down from the showers as he still smelled of soap and his towel dried hair appeared particularly chaotic.

"Looks like you should have slept in."

"Yeah, well … whatever."

"Nearly Headless Nick was looking for you," said Hermione from behind her edition of The Daily Prophet.

"What did he want?" Harry managed to ask and yawn simultaneously.

"He didn't say." She set down the paper and took a look at him. "Bad night?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Harry had lain awake for hours worrying about Severus. Then when he finally did doze off, he kept having dreams about fortresses and people being put under the Imperious curse.

At least the coffee was strong and he sat in his fog sipping his drink, completely tuning out the chatter around him until a loud clank sounded as Ron dropped his fork.

"Oh no ... Snape's back!"

Harry in turn nearly dropped his coffee as he turned quickly to the front and saw Severus take his seat at the Head Table then begin to survey the room.

He started with his snakes seated at the Slytherin table and then continued slowly scanning the sea of students until he came upon a pair of emerald eyes.

Severus nodded ever so slightly as they held each other's gaze momentarily, but too soon he looked away to Dumbledore as the old wizard moved to stand behind the podium.

"I only did half the homework this weekend!" Ron's voice drew Harry from his preoccupation. "I thought we'd still be having that Slughorn fellow this week."

"You have no one to blame but yourself Ronald," Hermione chastised. "Professor Snape only had the flu. What did you think? That he'd be gone the remainder of the semester?"

"Will you two quiet down," scolded Ginny. "I'm trying to hear what the Headmaster is saying."

"Furthermore," Dumbledore's voice rang out over the loud murmur in the Great Hall, "until Professor Snape has fully regained his strength, he will only be teaching levels five through seven. Professor Slughorn will continue teaching levels one through four."

A wave of chatter filled the room in response to this news but it didn't last long; eventually the students quieted and then turned their attention to their breakfasts — all except for Harry.

He couldn't decide whether he was relieved that Severus was back in one piece, or angry at him for not sending word of his return.

When Severus finished eating, he stood and left via the annex. Harry decided to try and head him off before class started.

"I forgot my workbook up in the tower," he lied as he got up from the bench. "I'll see you in potions."

"But you hardly ate a thing," Hermione protested with concern.

"I'm fine," he called back as he raced down the aisle and out the doorway and around the corner where he promptly ran right through Nearly Headless Nick.

"Ahhhh!" he cried out and cringed from the feeling of deathly cold.

"Oh Harry, I've been looking for you."

"Yeah, so I heard," he snapped back as he tried to shake off the lingering feeling of Nick. "What did you want?"

"Are you upset with me Harry?"

"No, I'm sorry." He then huffed in frustration, "I'm just tired … andI'm in a hurry."

"Very well then," the ghost brightened, "I shan't dally." He looked from side to side, then held onto his head as he leaned forward and whispered in Harry's ear, "The Bloody Baron asked me to tell you that Professor Snape has returned."

"I already know," he said and stared incredulously up at the ghost. "When did he get back?"

"I believe last night."

"And you're only telling me now?"

"But the Baron only told me this morning."

This conversation was quickly giving Harry a headache. "Listen, thanks … but I gotta get going." He turned and raced toward the staircase.

"It was nice running into you," Nick called back cheerily.

~~~SH~~~

When Harry got to the potions room he found the door locked. "Damn."

Maybe he's in his private lab.

He turned to head for Sev's private laboratory but stopped at the sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini coming around the corner. I don't believe this, first Nick and now these two bozos.

"Bit far from home, aren't you? … Potter?"

"Don't start Draco."

The two Slytherins sallied up to stand right in front of Harry. With Draco a good four inches taller than Harry and Blaise an additional five, they easily towered over the black haired Gryffindor.

"We're not starting anything," Draco answered coolly. "We're just curious why you're down here so early." He looked theatrically from side to side, "Where are your cohorts?"

"None of your business."

"Come now Potter, there's no need to be testy," Zabini teased. "We're all friends … right Draco?"

"You're right Blaise," Draco answered in a sing-song voice.

Harry rolled his eyes then made to leave but the two tall teens blocked his exit.

"Not so fast Potter," Draco sneered, "we're not quite finished with you. After all, it isn't often we get you on your own."

"First off Malfoy," Harry said coolly, "you don't haveme, and secondly … just what is it you want?"

"We heard you'd been sick," Draco picked off a stray bit of lint from his robes.

"And that whatever you had was the same thing as the Professor," added Blaise.

"It's rather curious," Draco shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, "wouldn't you say?"

"I believe overtwould be a better choice of word," Severus's baritone voice cut through the accusation and caused Draco and Blaise to jump about-face in surprise.

"Sir! We didn't hear you," Blaise pleaded.

"Obviously," Severus retorted in a cool tone. "How very disappointing to realize that in one week's time, you two have managed to sink to such a plebeian level."

"Sir … we didn't mean anything by it. We were just having some fun," Blaise continued his defense while alternatively Draco held a stony expression.

Severus returned his godson's hard gaze for a few moments. "On Friday, the two of you will submit a one foot essay on the qualities and attributes of being Slytherin."

Draco and Blaise stood gobsmacked as Severus turned to unlock the door while scatterings of seventh years began to filter down the hallway for class.

All Harry had wanted — no needed, was a moment with Sev to make certain he was okay. But all he'd gotten for his efforts was a morning of frustration.

As soon as the door opened, Harry marched past the tall wizard. "Welcome back Sir," he offered as he headed on into the room to take his seat, red faced and nettled.

~~~SH~~~

Severus started the class by expressing his regret for having missed the past week of classes and then spent ample time driving home the fact that the N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching.

"It is apparent from the notes given to me by Professor Slughorn that you spent the past five days fiddling with extraneous potions." He was still fuming over this matter.

"You're behind schedule now which means we will have to step up our efforts to cover each NEWT potion by the Christmas break."

A silent wave of shock swept through the class as the students began to calculate the added workload which was about to come their way.

"It is imperative that you successfullycomplete each brewing assignment."

Severus began to walk slowly toward the back of the room. "Tell me how one would accomplish this?"

He looked to Draco, "Mr. Malfoy?"

"Make certain to finish the reading assignment before class."

"Correct," Severus had paused while Draco answered the question but now he resumed his pacing, "And what would be sequent to that?"

He turned to Blaise, "Mr. Zabini?"

"Complete the corresponding workbook assignment and have it ready to turn in at the start of class."

"Which all of you should have ready for today."

A few nervous shuffles broke out around the room.

"Pass your workbooks to the front."

No one dared make a sound although a couple of students, Ron included, were inwardly cursing the unexpected early return of Professor Snape.

"What was the assigned potion in the syllabus for today's class?"

The students answered in unison, "The Draught of Living Death."

"Correct." He surveyed the students. Some were squirming in their seats, Hermione was ready to jump out of hers and run to the storage cupboard — but Harry hadn't moved. He was staring hard-faced at his desk, apparently still upset.

"I expect all of you are fully prepared to complete today's assignment." Severus headed toward his desk. "As usual, I will come around and inspect your work as you brew. You may begin."

Nearly ninety minutes later the class was coming to a close. There had been only four failed attempts for which those students would have to come in the following Saturday and stay until they had successfully completed brewing The Draught of Living Death.

Harry had managed to calm down as he turned his concentration to brewing, but he was still angry over the insinuation posed by Malfoy and Zabini.

He looked up and saw that Severus had begun to levitate each student's workbook back to them, including Harry's own which floated into his now awaiting hands.

He opened the book to see his grade and discovered a small note tucked tightly into the seam.

He cautiously removed the small piece of parchment and unfolded it.

centerPlease stay after./i/center

Harry stared at the note debating whether or not to drop it into the draught, but eventually he tucked it into the safety of his pants' pocket.

~~~SH~~~

Staying after didn't work out as easily as Harry had hoped.

First there was Ron. He was livid over the fact that he was one of the four students who had to return Saturday to brew.

"Calm down Ron or you're going to get a detention on top of everything else," cautioned Hermione.

"But I scheduled the pitch for 8:00!" Ron's cheeks were flushed as red as his hair.

"Don't worry, Harry and I will both practice with you this week…"

"I think I'm gonna be pretty busy with training," commented Harry as he watched Sev and Draco exit the lab and go into Severus's office.

"Well that's rich!" leveled Ron. "Where the hell are your priorities?"

Harry had come to the end of his rope. Not only had he been worried all week long, but he'd had a bad night's sleep, ran throughNick and then intoDraco and Blaise. "Maybe I've got my own stuff to deal with! Did you ever think of that?"

"What are you on about?" retorted Ron.

"You two calm down." Hermione glared at the two of them, "I'll work with you, Ron. Harry obviously needs to catch up on the training he missed." She wrapped her arm just a tad low around Ron's waist — that always worked. "With any luck you'll be out on the pitch by 9:30."

Ron leaned into her, "Look mate, I'm sorry. This potions stuff drives me nuts. I wouldn't be taking it if I didn't have to."

Harry sighed, "I'm sorry I blew up."

"Don't worry about it. We all have a lot going on … right?" Just then, Ron's stomach growled. "Come on, let's get lunch."

"You two go, I need to stay and ask the professor about my training."

"Okay, we'll see you in Transfiguration." Ron slung his bag over his shoulder as he and Hermione left for lunch.

Now that everyone else had gone, Harry could hear the conversation in the other room.

"I didn't mean anything by it Severus. Blaise and I were just …"

Suddenly the voices disappeared as Sev, no doubt, must have cast Muffliato.

Not wanting to get caught out and add fuel to Malfoy and Zabini's fire, Harry shoved his book bag under the desk, cast a Disillusionment charm upon himself then moved over to a far corner of the lab to wait for Draco's departure.

He only had to wait a minute or so, for soon Severus and the silver-blond teen came back into the lab. Draco strode determinedly to the door, his jaw hard-set and his gray eyes were glaring, it was obvious that Severus had refused to yield and that Draco was going to have to write that foot long essay.

When the door closed, the tall wizard looked about the room. "Are you here?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Harry released the charm.

Severus watched the young man as his body gradually reappeared.

Teaching the class and then the discussion with Draco had been a drain on Severus. He wanted to rest a bit before the afternoon classes- but he and Harry needed to talk.

"Come with me Harry." He turned and walked through his office and into his private sitting room.

Harry closed the door behind him and saw Severus drink a small vile of something.

"Are you alright Sev?"

He turned to face the concerned teen. The night of his breakdown was still unclear; Severus remembered only bits and pieces of the events that took place but he did remember Harry being there by his side.

Dumbledore had relayed Harry's reaction upon hearing Poppy's diagnosis, and so to see the young man's worried expression now pulled at Severus' heart. "I'm fine. You mustn't worry about me."

That's easy for you to say.

"Would you join me for lunch? We need to talk."

"I'd like that Sir, thank you."

They each took a seat. Severus ordered lunch and then listened as Harry filled him in on his week.

"What about Priestly? Has he given you any more trouble?"

"No. I never see him except in the Great Hall during meals." He took another bite of his roast sandwich which seemed to taste especially good or maybe it was just that he actually had an appetite now that he wasn't worried sick over Severus.

"Sev?"

"Hmm?"

"I need to tell you something."

"What?"

Harry set his plate down on the coffee table and looked pensively at the ebony eyes. "I know it's important never to talk about what happened … and I never will, but you should know that I did talk to Helena about it."

Severus had been about to take a sip of tea. His cup sat poised inches from his lips as he froze at hearing Harry's announcement.

"Please don't be angry. She'll never say anything … cause of that patient confidentiality thing." Harry was speaking quickly now, feeling the need to justify his actions.

"I was so worried … you didn't send any word … I couldn't talk to anyone …

"Harry," Severus interrupted; his voice was slightly raised and it caused Harry to startle into silence.

"I'm not angry. On the contrary, I think that was very wise of you."

Despite his affirmation, his cup rattled on its saucer as he set it down on the table for even though Severus had regained his composure; it didn't take much to rattle his frayed nerves.

His original intention for this discussion with Harry had been to inform the young wizard that he shouldn't hope for more from their relationship than what was already established, even though he himself felt closeness and a bond to the teen.

The fact that Harry had seen into Severus' soul the night of his birthday was bad enough, but now the teen had witnessed his total collapse, watched him completely fall apart, and was privy to his most private moment when he remembered the night of Rosa's death.

It was all too much, too revealing, and Severus felt the need to distance himself.

But sitting here with Harry, being in his presence and seeing his concern and worried expression; Severus' plan of distancing himself went right out the window.

"I also have a confession to make, something I haven't told you."

Harry couldn't begin to think to what Severus might be referring.

"I saw you that night when you spoke to Nearly Headless Nick regarding your Godfather."

The emerald eyes grew wide, "You did? Why didn't you ever tell me? "

"I wasn't certain how you would respond, knowing that I had intruded upon your private moment. I assure you, it wasn't my intent to eavesdrop. I was in Professor Sinistra's office when you entered the classroom — it was simply unavoidable."

"That was such a long time ago," Harry said in a wistful voice and he thought about how different things were now between he and Severus.

Just then the chimes rang to announce the end of the lunch period.

"You'd better hurry or you'll be late for your next class."

They both rose and Harry started to move toward the door but stopped.

He wanted to say how good it felt to just sit and talk with Severus, to tell the man how much he seemed to rely on him now and what a relief it was to have him back safe and sound, but all of that seemed like too much to say so he settled for, "Training this Wednesday?"

Severus sighed and nodded. "Yes Harry … Training this Wednesday."

Harry dove behind a tree that shattered as Dumbledore's formidable Reducto hit its center, but before the splinters could even begin to fall the young wizard countered with a well placed Duro which hit the old wizard squarely on his knee and sent him tumbling.

"Sir!" Harry called out in shock then pelted across the Room of Requirement to where the Headmaster now lay - somewhat incapacitated.

"Oh God, Sir! Are you all right?" Harry was on the verge of panic. "Let me help get you to Madame Pomfrey."

"Merlin's sake boy, calm down," snapped Dumbledore as he pulled up the crunchy fabric of his taffeta robe to inspect his knee. "I'm certainly capable of handling this!"

Harry knelt beside his fallen instructor and watched him counter the spell which had virtually left his knee solid as stone.

The skin and bone softened and he was once again able to bend his joint. "There see? Good as new."

He smoothed down his robe then reached out for Harry to take his hand. "Do help me up."

Which Harry did, "Sir I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise, next time I'll be more careful."

Dumbledore pulled out two lemon drops from of his pocket, transfigured them into a couple of overstuffed chairs then motioned for Harry to take a seat.

"Of course I realize this was unintentional, but the fact of the matter is..." he quickly transfigured another drop into an ottoman to prop his leg upon, "you shouldn't have to be more careful."

"What d'you mean?"

"The whole point of Professor Snape and me working with you is to give you a challenge ... not the opposite."

"But Sir, look at you! I do need to be more careful!"

The old wizard didn't respond but instead toyed with his beard as he apparently contemplated an idea. "I believe some tea is in order."  

He called for an elf to bring them a service and after a few sips of robust Ceylon and a bite of sweet cake, he was ready to address the situation. "The fact of the matter is that with Severus busy at the new stronghold ... I simply cannot keep up with you my boy."

Harry didn't like the sound of he'd just heard. "What d'you mean Sir?"

"What I'm saying is ... that as long as Professor Snape's evenings are committed to setting up this new laboratory for Voldemort, I need help in carrying out your training."

"I guess that makes sense; who did you have in mind?"

Dumbledore took a slow sip of his tea then placed the little porcelain cup on its saucer, "Professor Priestly has asked if he might be allowed to help with your training."

Harry tensed, "He did?"

"Yes. He mentioned having had a discussion with Professor Jackson about one month ago ..."

"Yeah, Channon wrote about it in one of his letters."

"I believe he has finally admitted to himself that he was wrong about you. "

Harry fiddled with the lid on the teapot but didn't say anything.

"So, what is your opinion on the matter?"

Truth be told, Harry wasn't at all keen about working with Priestly. He didn't like him and for some reason - he didn't trust him. But knowing how busy Severus was and not wanting him to get sick again, added to the sight of an exhausted Dumbledore sitting before him with his recently hexed leg resting on the little ottoman, it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. "All right Sir, I suppose I could practice dueling with him."

Dumbledore sighed with relief, "Splendid Harry. I'll let him know straight away." 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Solomon Priestly scribed his critique neatly in the right-hand margin on this, the last essay of the evening. He had been at it for hours, reading and grading the seventh years' recent assignment: The merits of Perfection in Defensive Magic.

He wiped his quill clean, carefully placed it on the unadorned pen rest then leaned back and released a tremendous sigh.

His eyelid twitched and he shook his head in frustration. Why does it keep doing that?

He placed his finger gently at the edge of his eye lid to try to stop the twitch. It didn't work, his lid continued on as it had for the last few days, twitching every twenty seconds or so.

Exasperated, he stood and crossed over to the sideboard where he started to pour himself a glass of Scotch. Stop you fool, he reprimanded himself then quickly set down the decanter.

Solomon Priestly firmly believed that drinking was a social act; one never drank by onesself.

I know what's wrong with me ... it's staying at this blasted castle and teaching these bloody children.

He began to pace back and forth across the small office. It's all starting to catch up with me... that must be it.

To say that Solomon was out of sorts would be an understatement. It had all started that night after the failed attempt upon You Know Who's manor, the night he went to drown his frustration at The Hog's Head. Ever since then, he simply didn't feel right, was the only way he could describe it. Added to that was a persistent headache and the embarrassing twitch.

He knew that everyone could see it; they could see that he wasn't in control of himself and that made the twitch more difficult to bear than the headache. For Solomon Priestly always had to be in control, he needed order and most importantly - he needed respect.

A whoosh of sound startled him as a letter flew out of the Floo and then hung suspended, waiting patiently to be noticed. 

He snatched it up and scanned the short note from the Headmaster confirming Potter's agreement to participate in his proposed dueling sessions.

He sighed in relief, but at the same moment another part of him - one very much in distress, tried in vain to voice its opposition.

But the demanding quietude of the Imperius curse was far stronger and it caused him to succumb to its specious logic.

Perfect, he thought. This will enable me to carry out my assignment and then, all will be as it should be.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Neville wound his fingers around Luna's golden locks. They felt so silky and caught the light just so - 

"Luna, let's go up to the Astronomy tower."

She smiled and tipped her head askew, "Orion should be high in the sky just now. Yes, this would be a delightful time."

Whatever works thought Neville. "Let's go," he whispered.

They'd stepped into the Porthole just as Harry was coming in, "Hi you two."

"Good evening Harry," answered Luna in a daze, Neville simply looked guilty.

Harry whispered in Neville's ear, "It's almost curfew."

With a nod of acknowledgement, he and Luna headed off for distant prospects as Harry joined the remaining students in the common room, slumping onto his favorite chair by the fire.

"How was training?" asked Ron as he sat back up on the nearby sofa, exposing a rather disheveled Hermione.

"Not so great," Harry replied and then looked around the room. "Is it just me, or is everyone snogging in here?"

"I think you're over exaggerating," said Hermione as she tidied her hair.

Harry stared at Ginny and Dean curled up together in the far corner, and then remembered Luna's lips - from the looks of them, she and Neville had been hard at it.

Just then, Hermione flipped her hair back behind her shoulders.

"You have a hickey on your neck," Harry pronounced flatly.

She quickly pulled her hair forward and smacked Ron on the shoulder. "How many times do I have to tell you ... be careful where you do that," she huffed. 

"Sorry," Ron gave her his best I feel terrible about it look, then lightly stroked the mark with his thumb.

Harry had had enough. "I'm gonna take a shower," he said as he stood to leave.

"You can't do that - we have rounds!"

He stopped mid-step. "Well then hurry up," he called back as he headed instead toward the Porthole.

She quickly cast a glamor, and then raced to catch up with him.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"What's got you in such a foul mood?" 

"Nothing," Harry snapped as he marched down the hallway. 

She turned to go up the steps to the Astronomy Tower.

"Wait a minute," he glanced up the steps thinking Neville and Luna were probably up there. "Let's catch the tower on our way back."

"Oh ... all right." They continued down the hall, "Tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm just frustrated."

"What about?"

"Everything," Harry said and then dragged his hand through his hair. "Sev's been away working on that lab and now I have to start training with Priestly..."

"You can't be serious."

"It's true. I think maybe he asked to do it because of that talk Channon had with him."

"Well, perhaps it's for the best. He really is quite good with details."

Harry rolled his eyes and headed back for the tower.    

"Hold up!" she called out. "We haven't checked the Astronomy tower yet," and then started off in that direction.

"Oh yeah," he mumbled and reluctantly caught up with her. They reached the Astronomy tower and as they ascended the steps, Harry intentionally made a bit of noise to warn of their approach.

It was all for nothing, for when they stepped out onto the tower they found nothing but dark sky and swirling snowflakes.

"Let's go Harry; it's freezing."

"You go on," he answered quietly then walked over and leaned against the battlement.

Hermione joined him and lightly touched him on the back. "Just give Priestly a chance. It'll be all right."

"We'll see."

She sighed and looked out at the Wintery landscape. "I can't believe Christmas break is almost here."

"Are you going skiing with your folks again?"

"Yes," she said as she brushed away a snowflake that had landed on her nose. "Sounds like the Burrow is going to be even more crowded this year."

"Yep. Ron's kind of nervous about Fleur and her whole family coming," Harry said lightly even though his heart felt heavy at the prospect of spending another Christmas at the castle - alone.

"Listen Harry, maybe the Headmaster might ..."

"He won't," he cut her off, knowing what she was about to say. "It's too dangerous, not only for me but the Weasleys as well."

"Oh Harry ..."

"Don't worry about me Mione. I'll be okay, really."

Even though Hermione could be annoying at times, Harry did love her and thought of her almost like a sister. But he couldn't bring himself to say any of that, so he just settled for a quick hug.

"Come on, let's get back.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"So where are you meeting him? Ron asked while slinging his book-bag over his shoulder.

Harry stood staring at the note from Priestly which detailed the time and meeting place for their training sessions. "The Room of Requirement."

They headed for the door but paused and waited as Professor McGonagall bustled past them.

"Excuse me boys, I'm late for a meeting," she called back and hurried out of the classroom.

"No worries Professor," answered Harry as Ron looked to Hermione whom was still gathering her things.

"Are you planning on spending the holiday break in here?" he asked.

"Ha ha," she snipped. "No I'm not. I just needed to jot down a couple of notes regarding our assignment."

"I can't believe McGonagall gave us homework to do over the break!" protested Ron as they now headed out into the hallway.

"She's just trying to keep us on track in our preparations for N.E.W.T.s."

They turned and started to climb the staircase. "Listen Hermione, there's plenty of time to do that during classes. I'd rather have some fun over the break, not work on Transfiguration."

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject, "You're awfully quiet Harry."

"I bet you can guess why," he replied.

"It'll be all right. Don't worry."

"That's easy for you to say."

"She's right mate," added Ron encouragingly. "Priestly isn't so bad. A bit anal ..."

"Ron, don't talk about him like that," Hermione reprimanded. "Look how much he's helped Neville. All that attention to detail was just what he needed."

They reached the seventh floor.

"You want us to wait for you?"

"I'm not exactly sure when we'll finish." Harry sighed and looked down the hallway, "No, I'll just meet you down at dinner."

"All right then ... Good luck mate."

"Right," he croaked then headed off for the Room of Requirement whilst Ron and Hermione went in the opposite direction toward Gryffindor Tower.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"I need a place to train." Harry uttered the agreed cue and the heavy doors opened, allowing him into the room.

Solomon Priestly was already there, waiting for him. "Ah Mr. Potter, right on time."

"Hello Sir." The teen looked around in disappointment at the starkly barren room. Great. I can see how this is going to go.

Whenever he worked with Dumbledore, the room would be filled with a myriad of objects: armoires, trees, prisms of light-anything an individual could hide behind, be distorted within, or climb up on - all in order to add the factor of dimension to the duel.

With Severus, he always got the room to change into different places: a warf in a fishing village, a beautiful countryside, an orchard of olive trees. They were all places near his villa in Italy and experiencing them had been a godsend for Harry, as it was now nearly two years that he'd been confined to the safety of the castle.

"I thought we might start with some basic target practice, so that I can observe your technique."

"Yes Sir." Harry's eyes were drawn immediately to the man's twitch. It had grown in intensity so that it now included his cheek. "Are you all right Sir?"

"What this?" Priestly waved nonchalantly at his twitching face. "Don't concern yourself. It's simply due to fatigue. I'm certain it will go away over the holiday break."

"Yes Sir," Harry placated, but couldn't help thinking that the Professor's malady added a whole new dimension to the term ‘twitchy'.

Priestly faced the far wall and waved his wand in an exacting arc. A stone buttress appeared with a bull's-eye painted in its center. "Now Mr. Potter, if you would ... please demonstrate for me a Stinging Hex. Try to hit the bullseye exactly in the center mark.

Harry squinted at the little red dot in the center of the ring. It was almost impossible to see - even with his glasses. Nevertheless, he gave it a go and executed his wandless Stinging hex.

It missed the little dot by about five inches to the right.

"You missed."

"Well, it's kind of hard to see that dot. Is it okay to make it bigger?"

"The entire point of this exercise Mr. Potter, is to refine your spell placement."

"Oh."

"Try again."

Harry sighed, turned back to face the buttress, squinted and then executed another Stinging hex. He missed, but this time it hit just to the left of center.

Priestly watched intently, apparently trying to discern what it was Harry was doing wrong. "You know Mr. Potter, without using your wand, it is very difficult for me to appraise your movement."

"But I can't use one Sir; it would cause too much damage."

"I understand that." He pursed his lips as if trying to come up with a solution. "I have an idea."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a coin and Transfigured it into a wand.

"You can use this. Since it isn't a real wand, there shouldn't be any problem."

That seemed reasonable, so Harry reached for the innocent looking piece of wood.

 Immediately, he felt the sudden jerking sensation behind his navel as the specious Portkey activated from his touch.

Panic ripped through him as he realized what was taking place, knowing at the same time that he was powerless to stop what was about to happen.

~~~~~SH~~~~~  

30. Facing The Truth

"Hermione, pass the potatoes will ya?"

"Where are they?" 

"Down there by Neville."

She looked to her right, "Neville. Would you please pass the bowl of potatoes?"

"Sure."

A movement in her periphery vision caught her attention. "Oh, there's Professor Priestly."

"So?" commented Ron.

"He's sitting down at the Head Table." She looked opposite toward the main doors as she passed the bowl. "They must have finished with training, but where's Harry?"

"Probably just taking a shower."

"I suppose you're right."

They turned their attention back to their meals and their conversation added to the hum of voices that filled the hall.

Around the time of pudding, the resonance of the voices changed to gasps and Ooohhs, the clinking of cutlery quieted and was interspersed with occasional clanks as several students dropped their utensils.

"What's going on?" Ron looked up from his chocolate gateau to see a sea of faces looking at something behind him. Then he heard someone say, "Is that Harry?"

Ron turned and his heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him.

Harry was walking slowly up the aisle, making his way toward the Head Table.

His eyes were glaring with ire, his expression - livid. One side of his face was covered in blood, his robes were torn, he was limping and he held his left arm close to his chest.

Several of his friends and members of the D.A. began to jump off the benches and run to his aid.

"Don't touch me!" he ground out and they all stopped. "Get out of my way!" and they responded by backing up to create a pathway.

He continued on with his determined trek until he finally reached the front of the room and stood before the Head Table, directly in front of Professor Solomon Priestly.

"Harry! What happened to you?" Dumbledore stood up, aghast at the sight of the young wizard.

Harry was literally shaking. Was it from anger? Was it from cold? He didn't know and he didn't care. He glared emerald green daggers as he raised his trembling arm and pointed to the twitching man in front of him. "He tried to Portkey me out of here!" 

Time seemed to stop momentarily as those congregated stared on in disbelief - some at Harry, some at Priestly.

 Then all hell broke loose.

The accused wizard jumped up from his chair and started to run for the annex door.

Dumbledore swung his arm in a slashing motion that created strands of ropes that quickly wrapped themselves around Priestly. Both Professors McGonagall and Sprout leapt upon the twitchy wizard and wrestled him to the floor.

Students began to scream, some jumped up on benches and tables to get a better view. Hagrid ran across the dais; his lumbering footsteps nearly caused the structure to give way.

"Silence!" Dumbledore yelled and his voice, magically amplified, echoed around the room. "Everyone stay where you are! Do not move! No one is to leave this chamber!"

Everybody stopped.

Now the noises of the scuffle still taking place between Priestly, McGonagall and Sprout could be heard.

"Allow me Madams," Hagrid offered as he took hold of the struggling wizard who was speaking in garbled words, making no sense at all as he struggled to free himself from the ropes and now Hagrid's firm grip.

"Minerva!" called the Headmaster.

She hurried over as she tucked the few stray hairs back into her bun that had worked their way loose during the struggle. "Yes, Albus?"

"Have the D.A. assist you in getting Mr. Potter up to the hospital wing. Stay with him and don't let anyone enter but myself."

"I'll lock the doors and have the D.A. stand guard," she replied then hurried off to collect her charge.

Ron wrapped his strong arm around Harry, whom was shaking so badly now that he could barely stand. "I've got him Professor," Ron told McGonagall as she approached. Then he turned to his injured friend, "Come on mate ... let's get you fixed up."

The members of the D.A. formed a human shield around Harry. They made their way slowly down the aisle, ordering students to get out of the way and stand back.

Dumbledore then instructed the Prefects to escort the students, by House, back to their common rooms - adding that curfew was in effect immediately.

As students began to file slowly out, the Headmaster hurried over to Hagrid and the still struggling Priestly, and then beckoned to Mr. Filch to join them.

"Argus, please assist Hagrid in taking the Professor to your office. I will contact the Ministry and join you as soon as they arrive."

"With pleasure," drawled the Squib. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus pulled his cloak closer to him as he crossed the ancient wooden bridge leading to the east entrance of the castle.

He inhaled a lungful of the frigid night air and when he exhaled, his breath created a cloud which swirled about and then dissipated.

He was so relieved, or dare he say happy, that the laboratory was finally set up. All his ingredients: the vials of already brewed and bottled potions, the paraphernalia, everything - it was now all stored away into the cupboards. The cauldrons were set up; he had even tried out the new pewter one and was very pleased with how it had performed.

He crossed under the pergola then slipped in through the worn wooden doorway, down the narrow spiral steps then along the torch lit hallway to its end where a portrait of Salazar Slytherin hung.

"Sssspaahsss" he whispered the one word of Parseltongue he knew, the command form of the verb 'to open'. The portrait responded to reveal a door which Severus unlocked and then stepped into his chambers. 

He shut the door, leaned against it then closed his eyes and sighed in relief. Now that the laboratory was finished and the fifth and seventh years had fairly caught up to where they should be for their upcoming exams, he could finally resume his training with Harry.

He pushed himself away from the door and began to cross the room but stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the purple envelope hanging suspended in front of the fireplace.

The purple envelope was a private signal from Dumbledore indicating a matter of importance.

Severus crossed over and quickly snatched up the missive, then pulled out a piece of parchment and one small bag of unlocking Floo powder.

He unfolded the parchment and began to read the note. With each word his heart beat faster, so that by the time he'd reached the end it was literally pounding in his chest. He dropped the note and immediately threw the unlocking Floo powder into the Floo.

It blazed up red, signifying the locked Floo, but in a matter of moments the flames changed to green.

"Madame Pomfrey's office!" he yelled then literally leapt into the flames in his pressing need to reach Harry as quickly as possible.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Poppy was just walking into her office when Severus jumped out of her Floo.

"How is he?"

"He's all right Severus," she assured as she set down the tray of vials. "Harry's going to be fine."

"But a fall from that height ... his injuries must be severe."

"Yes they should have been- but they're not, thank Merlin."

"But how ...?"

"When he hit the protective ward," she interrupted his query, "He fell into a tree and then onto some shrubbery."

"What is the extent of his injuries?"

"His left collarbone is badly broken. The tissue surrounding the break is damaged and torn. He has numerous cuts and several contusions. The poor boy is badly shaken by the entire experience ... I must say."

Severus headed straight for the door intent upon seeing Harry, but then he stopped. "Is anyone with him?"

"No. Albus has put a ward around the infirmary; he thought it best until the investigation is completed."

Severus now turned back around to face her. "Does Dumbledore believe there were other perpertrators involved?"

"We don't know; Priestly has been unable to provide any information." She noticed that the man was trembling. "Severus, are you ..." 

"I'm going to stay with him," he said and turned to leave.

"You mustn't wear yourself out," Poppy said and moved closer toward the distraught wizard. "You've only just regained your own health."

"If I tire, I'll rest on the bed next to his."

She touched him lightly on his forearm, "I will return every four hours to administer the doses of Skelegro."

"I can do that ..."

"No," she moved past Severus to look him in the face. "That's my job.You need to take care of yourself."

"I will do my upmost," he said as he looked down the length of the ward and then headed off in that direction.   

Severus placed his footsteps carefully so as not to make a sound and when he reached the privacy screen, he peered around it.

There lay Harry sound asleep, propped up on several pillows and covered with a cloud of soft blankets.

Severus's heart, which had slowed its frantic beating as he spoke with Poppy, now picked up its pace once again.

Was it because of the sight before him? That of Harry injured? Or the blatant realization that if Albus had not erected those protective wards, Harry might very well be in the clutches of the Dark Lord this very moment? Or even worse - dead?

He stepped closer to the bed and gently took hold of the teen's hand. It was cool to the touch, and Severus suddenly felt very protective.

Why didn't Poppy cover this arm? He proceeded to do so with the utmost of care but stopped when he lifted the blankets and saw the teen's left arm, bandaged and bound tightly to his chest. There were scatterings of recently and partially healed bruises and cuts littering his torso.

Severus contemplated what Harry must have experienced: the terror of being Portkeyed against his will, knowing that he would slam into the ward and being powerless to stop it, falling and colliding into branches, then finally hitting the ground.

He turned over Harry's cool hand and saw the remnants of several abrasions and cuts littering his palm; a few of his nails were broken.

He must have grasped at branches, trying to stop his fall.

Severus covered Harry's free arm with the blankets and then pulled them up over his shoulders.

An intense feeling overtook him suddenly; Severus stepped away to the window and drew in a deep breath that shook his body as it left him.

He reached up and felt unfamiliar moisture at the corner of his eye and when he lowered his hand, there sat a single tear perched precariously on the tip of his finger.

Severus couldn't deny this small tangible entity and to what it bore witness: that Harry meant a great deal to him and that he cared deeply for the boy. 

A soft mewl caught his attention and he moved swiftly to sit by the teen's side.

He seemed to be dreaming and his breaths were coming in shallow pants as his head moved slightly from side to side.

 "It's all right. You're safe."

"No..." Harry whined in a whispery voice. "Stop ..."  

Severus took hold of Harry's free hand and began to stoke back his wild hair. "Shhh, you're all right."

Harry's eyes opened and he looked around the darkened room, still disoriented from his nightmare.

"You're in the infirmary. You're safe."

 "Sev?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm right here. Feel my hand."

"I thought I was at the graveyard," he croaked, "Tied to the tombstone. I still feel the rope."

"That's the bandage wrapped around your chest."

It took the injured teen a few moments to fully awaken. "The Portkey," he whispered when he remembered what had happened.

"Yes," Severus confirmed. He squeezed Harry's hand and continued to stroke his hair. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Despite his calming efforts, the young wizard began to grow more distraught.

"I couldn't stop it." Harry started to tremble, not from fear of his nightmare - but out of frustration. "All my training ... but I couldn't stop it."

Severus sighed heavily and watched as the emerald eyes filled with tears. He wanted to say something to consol the young man, but what? It seemed like his was an impossible situation.  

"I try and I try, but ..." Harry continued.

"I know."

"And now I ..." He'd been thinking that he'd probably have to spend Christmas in the infirmary.

"And now you what?" asked Severus.  

Harry hadn't meant to say it aloud, the words just sort of slipped out. "Nothing," he said and turned his face away in an attempt to hide his tears. "You should get some rest Sir ... I'll be okay."

Severus wasn't fooled; he was too practiced at putting on a brave face. Harry was upset about something other than the attempted kidnapping.

With the connection that existed between them, it took little effort for Severus to slip in subtlety behind Harry's brave front, and when he did he felt an overwhelming sense of being alone during the holidays.

Oh.

Severus sat silently as he contemplated this realization. He had planned a quiet holiday alone, as usual, but perhaps it was time to change all of that. After all, Harry had become very special to him, almost like a son. Even so, he'd continually kept his distance, still at odds with the fact that the young man knew so much about him.

Dare he allow someone into his life? Or was this a moot point.

Severus thought about how frantic he'd felt upon hearing the news of the attempted abduction and then his reaction upon seeing the teen, battered and bruised. Perhaps his question had already been answered; perhaps Harry was already a part of his life.

He gently wiped away a stray tear that had slid down the bruised cheek and Harry looked up questioningly at the unexpected show of affection.

"Harry?" Severus said softly. "This might not be the most appropriate moment, but there was something I wanted to ask you."

"Yes Sir?"

"Severus."

"Sev."

The idea of anyone calling him Sev had always been unacceptable, but coming from Harry - it was rather endearing.

"I wondered if perhaps you might like to join me for Christmas at my villa in Tuscany."

The villa in Tuscany? Christmas with Sev?

"It's protected by a Fidelius charm, so you would be quite safe."

Harry thought about the painting that hung in Sev's side chamber and how he'd always wanted to see the villa.

"Of course if you have other plans ..."

"I don't. I mean ... Yes Sir, I'd like that."

The look of surprise on Harry's weary, battered face instilled a warmth in Severus that he'd never before known, and surprisingly, the idea of sharing Christmas with the teen filled him with a sense of anticipation toward the holiday. However, the thought of saying all of this seemed to be too much and so he settled for, "Good. I'm glad."

As Harry thought about going to Italy and spending the holidays with Severus, his anxiety from his nightmare and the attempted kidnapping slipped away and was replaced with a feeling of calm.

It must have showed in his expression.

"Why don't you try to get some rest now; you look exhausted."

"Do you know if ..." his sentence was interrupted with a yawn, "If the doors are still locked?"

"Yes, they are. Additionally, there is a ward surrounding the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey's Floo is locked and I am going to stay here - by your side."

Harry eyelids felt like lead but despite that he looked up into those black eyes and felt a sense of security wrap itself around him like a blanket. "You would do that? Stay here? With me?"

"Of course I would," Severus said assuredly as he gently brushed back Harry's fringe. "Now close your eyes."

And as soon as Harry did so, he drifted off to sleep.

Severus continued to card his hand through the wild mop of hair. "Oh Harry," he sighed. "Perhaps you are already a part of my life."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

All eyes lighted upon Severus and watched as he crossed the Headmaster's office.

"Minister," Severus acknowledged Scrimgeour then nodded to the others assembled before he reached the tea cart and surveyed the selection. "The Healer has finished his assessment."

"And?" asked Dumbledore.

Ceylon sounded good this afternoon, "The children are all fine." He added a squeeze of lemon to the tea now housed in a damask cup and turned to face those select members of the Ministry and Order who had gathered to discuss the unbelievable events of the previous day. "What were the reports from the other houses?"  

"All clear," reported Minerva.

Severus took a seat next to her. "And Priestly?" He asked with a cool tone. Even though he knew the wizard was as much a victim as Harry, he was still livid with the man.  

"We were just about to get to that," replied Scrimgeour. "Kingsley, would you please read the latest report?"

"Yes Minister." The ebony wizard removed the parchment from his leather portfolio and took a moment to scan the document. "The Healers from St. Mungos state that Solomon is still obtunded and will need further treatments before he can be interrogated."

"That's it?" sputtered Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror department.

"Yes," confirmed Kingsley.

"But has he spoken?" Robards pressed. "Did he at least say who did this to him?"

"What part of the word ‘obtunded' don't you understand," replied Moody in a gruff voice.

"Please Allister," Remus chastised softly and then turned his attention back to Kingsley. "Do they offer an estimate as to how long it will take to remove the curse?"

Shacklebolt looked over the document once again. "The curse has already been removed." He shook his head as he continued to stare at the bad news. "Apparently, whoever cast the curse was rather inept. There is some residual damage ..." He looked up and met the gazes of everyone who was listening intently. "He will heal, but it is going to take time."

"Dear me," sympathized Minerva.

Robards stood up and began to pace about the room. "All right then ... Priestly can't tell us anything, and you say that everyone else here at the castle has been cleared?"

"Yes Gawain," Dumbledore confirmed. "All of the children and staff members have been checked. No one else is cursed."

"Then can someone please!" he yelled, "tell me how one of my top Aurors, working at Hogwarts, was Imperiused?"

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Ron and Hermione barely managed to get off the staircase before it started to swing away in the opposite direction from the Hospital Wing. As they turned down the corridor, they saw the Auror whom had been assigned by the Ministry to protect Harry until the investigation was completed.

They slowed their pace as they approached the imposing official standing in front of the doors and staring down at them with a Spartan expression. "No one may enter without a pass," he barked.

"But we were told it was okay for Harry to have visitors now," Hermione pleaded.

"No pass - no entry."

"But ..." she was about to continue her entreaty when the doors opened and out stepped Madame Pomfrey.

"It's all right young man," she handed an official looking note to the guard. "I just received word that the investigation is now complete."

The guard read the note, "Very well, they may enter. But it says here I am to remain at my post to provide security as you see fit."

"That will be fine," Madame Pomfrey patted his arm then turned to the anxious Gryffindors. "I think there's someone who would very much like to see you two."

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"Outposts? What outpost?" asked Robards.

"The outpost used to travel to and from the Fastness," replied Severus.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about Snape?"

"I detailed all of this information in my report." Severus looked questioningly to Dumbledore, "You did pass it on, didn't you?"

"He did," interjected Scrimgeour. "I simply haven't finished my review. Your report is in a safe in my office."

"That's all well and fine Minister," snapped the exasperated Auror. "But considering what has happened, don't you think the time has come to share this information with the rest of us?"

Scrimgeour opened his mouth to speak but Severus interceded, "Perhaps it would be best if I simply relay the details of what I have observed."

"Thank you Snape," agreed the Minister, "that probably would be best."

Severus sighed and set down his cup then began the lengthy description of the protocol involved in traveling to and from the Dark Lord's new headquarters.

He explained that now, when responding to the call of the Dark Mark, he is led to a shack where he must supply a password to the guard on duty. He in turn is then handed a Portkey which transports him to the reception room at the Fastness.

"The Fastness?" Robards leaned forward in his chair. "What Fastness?"

Snape looked to Dumbledore then to the Minister. They both nodded their heads for him to proceed.

He drew a deep breath, "Of what I have seen, the Fastness is situated a top a large outcropping of rock. Around this outcropping runs a powerful river that cuts through a dense forest."

"Do you have any idea where this forest is located?" asked Minerva.

He shook his head. "The potions laboratory is situated on the east side of the second level. There is one window from which I can view a short stretch of the river. Straight across, all I can see are trees." 

"Can you tell what kind of trees they are?" Arthur offered excitedly. "Perhaps that might help determine the location."

His obvious suggestion was greeted with a cold black stare.

"I suppose you already thought of that," Arthur responded softly.

"Pinus sylvestris and Picea abies," Severus replied in a flat voice.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore chimed in lightly to diffuse the tension, "those two genus and species account for the majority of trees in the forests of Northern Europe."

"Please continue," redirected Shacklebolt.

Severus went on to explain that guards were positioned throughout the building itself and that one was only allowed access to the specific area needed to accomplish their task, etc. Once completed, one was to leave - immediately.

He then addressed Dumbledore, "Do you still have that scaled drawing I gave to you?" 

"It's in my desk."

"Perhaps if you conjured duplicates and passed them around to the others."

"Good idea."

"A scaled drawing of what?" asked Moody as Dumbledore proceeded to his desk.

"Of the Fastness."

"Really?" Arthur's eyes brightened as his copy came floating to him. He grabbed it and began to inspect the drawing, as did everyone else.

 "But there's hardly anything here!" Robards criticized as he stared at his copy.

"Yes, it is incomplete; I am only allowed access to the hallways and corridors I must travel through to reach the laboratory."

"What is this large room, here on the first floor?" asked Moody as he tipped his head and looked at the map with his whirling artificial eye.

"It's the chamber where the Dark Lord holds assemblies. Leading south is the hallway to the reception room. Here," Severus pointed to the large central staircase, "is the stairway that accesses the upper floors."

"How many levels are there?" asked Tonks.