Harry sighed, rereading his Potions text for the hundredth time that hour. His dad—the familiar cheesy grin took over again at the mentioning of the dad word—was brewing potions for Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Sinistra was in the hospital wing for her follow-up exam. So, Harry was left to his own devices. However, his dad had left him an assignment to work on.

"I do hope you're not daydreaming again, Mr. Potter," a voice spoke loudly.

"I'm not, Salazar," the young Gryffindor replied glumly, glancing at the founder's portrait that hung above the fireplace. He returned to his Potions text and sighed heavily. The assignment was on how to brew properly a Forgetfulness potion. However, his mind kept wandering to the fact that there was a week left before term ended, only one week before all his friends went to their homes.

He hadn't seen his friends since the day he went completely mental in the middle of History of Magic. Sure, Severus had allowed him to write Ron and Hermione every day, but it wasn't the same as seeing them. Frowning, he flipped the pages of his text. There were only so many times a person could read the ingredients of a potion before he was bored out of his mind.

At the sound of the portrait opening a few minutes later, Harry glanced towards it. He smiled towards Professor Sinistra as she slowly walked in, removing her blue robes and setting them on the hook beside the entrance. He then noticed that she wasn't alone. His green eyes instantly darted towards hers in pure shock.

"I've already spoken to Severus, and he agreed to allow you to head up to the Gryffindor common room with your friends. There's no sense in you hanging around here when we unfortunately won't be able to watch you."

"But I thought," Harry said, closing his mouth instantly when he saw Ron and Hermione glance at him. He slid off his chair and slowly walked towards her, so his friends didn't hear him. "I thought you both were worried that I'd go mental again and have another of those flashbacks."

"Are you and Severus still having your nightly talks?"

"You know I am, Professor."

"And you've been sleeping better this week, correct?" she asked softly.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. To be honest, he had been sleeping wonderfully this past week since his dad had woken him from his terrible night terrors. His dreams weren't filled with constant bombardments of nightmares of shadowy figures or green lights anymore. In fact, his dream last night was of him and Severus flying.

"Do you feel as anxious as you once did about being attacked?"

"No, ma'am," he replied, shaking his head. He kept inside the thought of how his father would kill anyone who tried to hurt him.

"Well, then, do you feel as if something bad is going to happen if you and your friends go up to the tower this evening?" She smiled at him when he shook his head. "If you do feel odd, though, just call for Mokai or Kali, all right?"

Harry nodded, glancing at his friends. He wanted to go with them, but he didn't want them to witness him going mental again. Merlin only knew how mental they already thought he was for the History of Magic incident.

"You all right there, Harry?" Ron asked quietly, glancing nervously to Professor Sinistra.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "I'm fine, Ron." He then looked up at the professor. "You're sure it'll be all right for me to go with them?"

"There's no way for knowing for certain, Harry, but I'll think you'll focus on your friends and enjoy yourself. But, if you start to feel apprehensive, though, you know what to do." She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a compassionate squeeze before she smiled towards the other students. "I'm afraid that this will only be for two hours today. However, if all goes well, then when we do this again on Saturday, you'll be allowed to spend a few more hours together." Her dark eyes fell on Hermione. "I trust I can count on you to ensure that these two don't get themselves it into any mischief today, Miss Granger."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione replied with a nod.

"Then I'll see you in two hours, Harry."

~FTT~

A few minutes later, Harry sat on the sofa in the common room with Ron and Hermione sitting on either side of him. He listened to Ron telling him how hard the exams were, while Hermione muttered that had he studied it wouldn't be. Harry, however, was staring off, watching the flames consume the firewood.

"—back to the dungeons?"

"What?" Harry asked, glancing at his friends.

"Do you need to go back to the dungeons? We'll understand if you do."

"No. I'm fine." Harry sighed, frowning. "Sorry that I'm not that good of company today."

"Do you want to talk about it, mate?"

"It's just, well, I keep thinking about how in a week you'll both be back at your homes. I'll be somewhere, maybe here. I don't know."

"Won't you be going back home, too?"

Harry couldn't help but flinch at the word. Little Whinging was anything but home for him, and the Dursleys were anything but family. He frowned, glancing at them. They didn't know his home life. No one—well, his dad was learning a bit of it during their talks—knew about the Dursleys. He had made sure of that since no one—adult or otherwise—really seemed to care anyway.

"I'm not going back there," the young Gryffindor said quietly.

"Did something happen to them?"

It took all his self-control not to say that he hoped something had. He shook his head, though, in response, glancing at the floor. Would he live with his dad or with another family? His frown deepened. He hadn't thought to ask where he'd live. At the time, he was just glad that he didn't have to go back to the Dursleys. Thinking about it now, though, he should have asked.

"Harry?" Hermione softly said, staring at him with a rather concerned look.

"I don't know if I can tell you this or not, but you have to swear not to tell anyone." Harry waited until both Ron and Hermione nodded. He then motioned them to move closer to him so that the others studying in the common room didn't overhear. "I'm, well, I'm not really James Potter's son," he whispered. He watched Ron's eyes widen, but the redhead didn't say anything. "Lily used my dad to make me. She didn't love him. She in fact admitted it in a letter to him."

"Are you saying that, you know, Snape's your dad?" Ron asked with a slight hiss in his voice.

"So, what if he is, Ron?" Harry didn't know why, but he had the overwhelming urge to punch the redhead right then. As if being the son of Hogwarts' Potions master was such a bad thing.

"It's just, well, he's Slytherin," Ron replied with his face scrunched up in disgust.

"What if he is, Ron? Then what? You don't want to be friends with me then, is that it?"

"No. No, it's just, well, it's rare, Harry. I mean, Slytherins and Gryffindors being cozy with one another is just, well, unheard of, mate. It's just not done."

"Yeah, well, I'm the son of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, all right, Ron? Just add that to another long list of reasons why I'm so damn special," he growled.

"Easy, Harry, I'm not trying to start anything. I'm just saying that it's rare."

"Ron," Hermione said, shaking her head once. "Have you talked to him about where you're going to live yet, Harry?"

"We've been talking about other things, Mione," he softly admitted. He then shook his head angrily, pounding his fists into the cushions. "I just wish I remembered more. If I knew who attacked me, then he could stop the person before whoever steals the stone."

"Does he, well, have you told him about us figuring some of it out?"

"Yeah, but he said that we Gryffindors are just overly curious to a fault or something. We're not going to be in trouble for it this time. He said if it happened again, it'd be bad." Harry then let the silence fall on them, continuing his staring contest with the flames.

"Do you think you'll be allowed to play Quidditch on Saturday, mate? Gryffindor needs you."

"I don't know," Harry replied, shrugging. He hadn't given Quidditch much thought truthfully. He had other things on his mind. He then sighed, glancing at his friends. They'd think he was stupid, but he needed to talk to someone about it. "What do you guys think about Professor Sinistra?"

"She's a fair teacher," Hermione answered.

"Yeah, sort of a nice, too," Ron added. "As long as you don't mess around with her telescopes or insult her subject, that is."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I mean, what do you think of her as, well, something other than a teacher?" He didn't want to come out and say 'mum.' He knew how that would go.

"Like what? I mean, we've never seen her in any other role, Harry."

"Never mind," the young Gryffindor mumbled. They didn't understand. They had two parents that loved them. They didn't know how it felt to be hated by family, treated like trash.

"Harry, please tell us. What do you mean?" Hermione then glanced at Ron before she lowered her voice. "Harry, are you asking us what we'd think if she was your mum?"

"No, no, of course not," Harry quickly denied. He shook his head feverishly.

"Is she and Professor Snape together?"

"What? No. I never said that. I was just, just, well, no."

"Mate, you know I'm all for you being happy, but, well, I don't think them being together would be such a good idea. I mean, I don't mean any disrespect or anything, but Snape's not the easiest person to get along with. She'd be miserable, and he'd, well, he'd likely hex her or something."

Harry sighed silently, hanging his head. Ron was right. He just wanted a mum who loved him, though. Was that too much to ask for? His real mum loved him, sure, but only because she had gotten her way. She was selfish and likely hurt his dad with her deception. Sinistra, however, wasn't like that, or so he had seen so far. She did everything a mum was supposed to do. She cared for him, and, unlike his mum, wouldn't have left him with the Dursleys. She spoke to him with kindness and love. After all, she talked his dad into letting him come up here to the tower tonight. She was a mum. At least he thought so. But did she even like his dad that way? That question was still being tossed about his mind. He wasn't sure what the right answer was.

"I think I'm going to head back to the dungeons, guys. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand atop of his. "We understand. Don't we, Ron?"

"What?" He was promptly then glared at by the young witch. "I mean, yeah, course we do, mate," the redhead replied, forcing a nod. "You'll come back up here Saturday, though, right?"

"Ronald," Hermione hissed.

"Jeez, Mione, I'm just asking. Don't get your knickers in a wad," he grumbled.

She huffed, shaking her head. "Ignore him, Harry. His last two remaining brain cells just died."

"Hey!"

Harry laughed in response. For that one moment, everything seemed fine. His depressing thoughts went away, and all that remained was him sharing a laugh with his friends. However, that familiar nagging feeling slowly crept back in, just on the edge of consciousness. His mood quickly returned to somber.

They slowly stood up, walking out of the common room a moment later. The trio was very quiet. It was almost as if it was a funeral march. Harry led them down the windy, moving staircases towards the entrance hall. He stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the third floor. From over the railing, he could see Professor Quirrell talking intently to Professor Sinistra.

"Quirenius, I do believe you're not supposed to be here." Her voice was pure ice, as was her glare for that matter.

"A-Aurora, I-I didn't realize y-you'd be here tonight." He glanced around nervously.

"Yes, well, I'm full of surprises, Quirenius. Now, tell me, why are you here? Shouldn't you be grading exams or something?" She crossed her arms, forcing a pleasant smile to her face.

"A-all finished," he stuttered. His left eye then narrowed fractionally as the side of his mouth raised in what was intended to be a condescending smirk. Compared to Snape's glare, however, it was hardly more than nervous tic.

"Oh, really?" she drawled, sounding surprisingly like Harry's dad. "So, what then, Quirenius, you decided to go for a little stroll?"

"I-I do not a-appreciate your t-t-tone, A-Aurora."

"Trust me, Quirenius. My tone will be the least of your worries if you don't leave this second."

"S-spending too much t-time with S-Severus, I-I see," he said, smirking for half a second.

"Why? Is it because I'm desperately holding in the urge to blast you down a few flights of stairs?" She leaned in to him, lowering her voice just slightly. "Frankly, I don't trust you for a second."

Harry watched the Defense professor mutter something before he glanced back up at her. He didn't know how to describe it, but Quirrell seemed different now. The man's eyes narrowed into slits before his hand reached out and latched onto her arms. Harry took a step down to go after, only to have Hermione and Ron pull him back before the stairs moved down to the lower landing.

"Unhand me NOW!" Professor Sinistra snarled, yanking her arms back.

"I think not." His voice was deadly. The familiar stutter gone, as if it was never there to begin with. His eyes darkened like a storm clouds on the horizon. His breathing was controlled and machine-like. With a malicious smirk, he backhanded her a moment later. "Your dear sweet Severus isn't here to save you this time. Poor, poor Sinistra, there's no one to save you from the big bad wolf." He chuckled darkly. "How about you and I take a little trip, Aurora? There's something I've just been dying to see tonight, and I think you'll be just the person I need to get it."

"You—"

"Now, now, there's no need to get nasty, Aurora. Be a good witch, and I won't kill you." He chuckled again. "After all, we both know that you lost your magic after saving the damn boy. So you, my dear, are at my mercy."

Leaving no room for discussion, he yanked her forcefully towards the doors. She, however, fought against him, attempting to free herself from him. Her attempts were futile, though. A moment later, when he grew tired of her fighting, he slammed her against a wall. Her head bounced off the stone wall as she fell back against him. Once more, he did this, chuckling darkling a moment later as he easily picked her up and carried her through the doors. The door slammed shut behind them.

Harry stared at the closed door, feeling himself tremble. Why had they pulled him back? He whirled on them, glaring. What was wrong with them? Shaking his anger off a moment later, he rushed down the stairs after her, ignoring the voice in his head that sounded like his dad. He had to save her.