They spent the afternoon talking. Talked until there was nothing left to say about the prophesy. Nothing left to say about what had happened at the Department of Mysteries. Nothing left to say about why Dumbledore had kept the information from Harry for so long. They talked about the single glove—and Harry had laughed at Hermione's suggestion that he was channeling Michael Jackson while Ron and Ginny said "Michael who?"

They didn't hear again from Dumbledore until the next morning. Ginny and Ron had borrowed school brooms and were flying on the pitch, playing with a quaffle, while Hermione and Harry watched from the stands. Harry itched to get on a broom—his "lifetime" ban from Quidditch imposed by Umbridge had been lifted, but Madam Pomfrey had imposed a new "medical" ban for the rest of the summer. Neither he nor Hermione noticed the headmaster until he was nearly beside them. Dressed in deep purple robes with small half-moons matching his glasses, and wearing the single white glove, the old man settled down on a bench beside them. Without pleasantries or preamble he spoke.

"After consideration of the episode on Privet Drive and Harry's vision yesterday, we have decided to further fortify and protect the school and its grounds from attack and infiltration. This effort will require the concentration and cooperation of a large number of talented wizards and witches, and cannot escape the scrutiny of the Ministry. For that reason, the Weasleys and Ms. Granger will be going on a short holiday with the Grangers and you, Harry, will be traveling to a secure location with Professor Snape to learn Occlumency." He held up a hand—the white gloved hand—as both Harry and Hermione began to protest.

"Please, let me finish." He looked directly at Harry, deliberately encouraging the eye contact he had avoided all the previous year. He didn't need legilimancy to read Harry's emotions. Anger, resignation, confusion, disappointment, even fear—they were all there, all just under the surface. The young man almost shook as he broke eye contact and covered his face with his hands, seeking control.

"All right then…go on," said Harry. "Tell me exactly why me going off with Professor Snape is a good idea." He stressed the potion master's title deliberately.

"You cannot stay here, Harry," said the headmaster, after a pause. "We have every reason to believe someone from within the Ministry means you harm, and the fortification of the wards will be done under Ministry supervision. It would be all too easy for this person to get into Hogwarts while we strengthen the wards...and even to sabotage the process. We must be vigilant—and you must not be here."

Harry nodded in reluctant acknowledgement of the truth of the statement. His face was still covered by his hands, and he rubbed distractedly at his scar.

"As for why Professor Snape…I must remain here and he is the only other that I trust to teach you to occlude your mind." Harry raised his head, about to point out that their previous Occlumency lessons had not exactly prevented Voldemort from possessing him at the Ministry. But Dumbledore once more silenced him, this time with a pointed look.

"I am fully aware of the…animosity…between you and Severus." Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick look at the Headmaster's use of Snape's first name. "However…matters are even more pressing now than they were a year ago. Severus…Professor Snape…has agreed to this as well. Like myself, he believes that you are more ready for this than you were a year ago."

Harry had raised his head and sat quietly for a moment, watching Ginny take shots while Ron guarded the goal. He rubbed his scar again. He felt Hermione's hand slip into his and squeeze it.

"I wish we could go with you," she said earnestly.

Harry squeezed her hand back, taking strength from his friend's support. Squaring his shoulders resolutely, he met Dumbledore's eye.

"OK, so I'm to go off with Professor Snape," he started, not quite keeping the resentment he felt out of his voice. "Where are we going, then?"

"I have acquired a cottage on the coast," answered Dumbledore. "It is quite protected—both magically and physically." He smiled at Harry almost whimsically. "I was there myself a few months ago when I had to leave Hogwarts rather suddenly…" He stood up, straightening his hat which had become a bit off kilter in the wind. "It is only for three weeks, Harry, but you are to leave tomorrow morning. Professor Snape is meeting with Madam Pomfrey now to review your potions and your physical therapy."

"My what?" No one had said anything about therapy.

"Physical therapy, Harry," answered Hermione. "You'll likely have a series of exercises to help you get full mobility and functionality back in your legs and arm. I had a full round of it the year before I came to Hogwarts after I broke my leg skiing…"

Harry looked from Hermione to Dumbledore.

"Hermione is correct. You will need to regain strength. The potions and other magical treatment can only repair the damage, not restore full functionality. The physical therapy may actually make the Occlumency lessons more successful as you will be working with Professor Snape in both the physical and the mental realms."

Harry sighed. Not only would he be mentally assaulted by the potions master, but Snape would be responsible for his physical torture as well. He didn't need Hermione's explanation of physical therapy. He had seen Dudley go through it when they were only seven. Dudley had broken his leg when the chair he was standing on while trying to get the biscuit jar off the top of the fridge collapsed. He had moaned and cried every time the P.T. appointment rolled around and Aunt Petunia had had to coerce him out of the house with promises of ice cream. He particularly remembered the in-home therapy…Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon manually moving Dudley's leg. He shuddered. Professor Dumbledore looked at him curiously for a moment.

"Does Snape want to do this?" asked Harry. It would be bad enough being there with Snape under any circumstances, but if he was being forced into this... The answer was quite obvious from Dumbledore's reaction.

"Professor Snape values his privacy, Harry. To be honest, this would not be how he would choose to spend the end of his summer holiday. But it is necessary, and I have asked him to take on this responsibility and he has agreed."

Harry swallowed another protest and smiled wanly.

"OK, then," he said quietly. "It's only three weeks. Can't be worse then spending the time at the Dursleys, anyway."

Dumbledore's face tightened slightly at Harry's comment but he didn't immediately reply.

"I have asked Professor Snape to enter this arrangement without his existing prejudices and he has agreed to try. But Harry…you must do the same. And you must know that there is the chance he will be called by Voldemort while he is with you. Should that unfortunate event occur, he will leave instructions for you."

Harry could not help it. He had the opportunity. He had to ask…

"Professor…why do you trust him?"

Dumbledore looked at the young man sitting before him, right arm still bandaged and bound, lightning bolt scar resting above shining green eyes. Eyes so like Lily's. Lily's son.

"Because I know what he fights for," he said at last. He fingered the glove covering his own hand. "I trust him with my life..and with yours. If that is not enough…then you yourself do not trust me."

He stood as if to leave. "I have moved your school trunk and other possessions from the Dursleys into the visitor rooms. Hedwig is in the owlery and we will be happy to keep her here while you are away. Finally, Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey require your presence in the hospital wing after dinner tonight. And now I will take my leave. I have preparations to make before the first Unspeakables arrive tomorrow afternoon. Good day, Mr. Potter. Miss Granger."

"Sir…Professor Dumbledore!" Harry stood up as the headmaster moved away down stands. The man stopped and turned, looking at Harry expectantly over his half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Your hand…what happened to your hand? Why are you wearing a glove over it?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at the glove a long moment then pulled it from the bottom to fit more snugly over his fingers.

"That, my boy, is a story for another day."