Ron and Ginny had been outraged on Harry's behalf, even protesting after they discovered that the Grangers would be taking them by aeroplane to the States where Hermione's parents would be attending a dentist's convention in Boston and would then take them to visit the American Wizarding Community in Salem. Dumbledore quickly produced passports for Ron and Ginny identifying them as Ronald and Ginevra Granger and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley brought over extra clothing and supplies. By dinnertime, they were packed and ready to go.

"I really hate leaving you, Harry," said Ron, swallowing a mouthful of chicken pie. "You sure you're going to be OK with the greasy git?"

"Ronald!" exclaimed Hermione. "You aren't helping at all."

Harry quit pretending to eat his mushy peas and put down his fork. They'd spent a good part of the day in their rooms talking and he'd gradually accepted the fact (strongly reinforced by Hermione) that it was important to learn Occlumency and that the three weeks would pass quickly. The trip to Boston intrigued him, but frankly, he didn't really feel up to 8 hours on a plane even though it would be very amusing to watch Ron in particular deal with Muggle technology and aeroplane seats that could not be magically expanded to accommodate his lanky frame. He wondered if he would ask the fight attendant for pumpkin juice or butterbeer.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Stop worrying about it."

Ginny gave him a doubtful look but Ron seemed somewhat appeased. They'd just finished pudding when Nymphadora Tonks arrived to escort them to Hogsmeade, where they'd be departing by floo for London to meet the Grangers.

"Nice outfit, Tonks!" exclaimed Ginny. Ron and Harry stood with their mouths open and Hermione looked mildly appalled.

"Going on undercover assignment in a Muggle club after I drop off you lot," explained Tonks, pulling her purple skirt down in an attempt to cover the top of her thigh-high black boots.

Harry walked with them to the entrance hall and out onto the stone stairs. Hermione and Tonks hugged him goodbye, then Ginny held him quite fiercely, and even Ron managed a one-armed hug.

"See you on September 1st, then," said Harry.

"Right…let's get moving," said Tonks. She winked at Harry and then led her little group out onto the grounds and toward the gates. He watched Hermione try to insert herself between Ron and Tonks, but Ron wasn't giving up his position easily. Harry sighed then abruptly turned and went back into the castle, annoyed with himself for feeling so annoyed, for letting the injustice get to him all over again. He had been told to report to the hospital wing after dinner so began making his way there. His legs were steady on level ground now, but stairs were still difficult so his progress was slow. Still, be managed to arrive at the same time as Snape, approaching the hospital wing door from the opposite direction. Snape acknowledged him with a stiff "Mr. Potter" and held open the door with an indifferent air while he limped inside.

Madam Pomfrey led him through a series of exercises for his legs and his arm. Some were strength building and others would gradually improve his manual dexterity. Thankfully, there were none that required Professor Snape to move or manipulate his leg for him. She then reviewed his potion regimen with both of them. Snape could not be accused of being friendly, but neither was he particularly snarky. If Harry had to pick a word to describe his behavior during the session with Madam Pomfrey he'd have picked "Professional." He'd also consider "stiff," perhaps, and "uncomfortable." When Madam Pomfrey was satisfied that both Harry and Snape understood what was required for Harry's complete physical recovery (potions, exercise, fresh air and plenty of sleep) she officially discharged him and hurried off to answer a call from Professor Dumbledore.

Snape collected the various potions and unguents she'd given him, placing them in a carrying case that resembled, to Harry's eye, a 19th century medical kit. "You may go, Mr. Potter. Meet me in the entrance hall at 8:30 a.m.," Snape said without looking up as he arranged the vials and bottles and secured the stoppers. Harry nodded and stood up, ready to leave. "Bring your summer assignments." Again, Harry nodded. Snape resumed his study of the case's contents and Harry turned toward the door. His legs ached after the exercise and he hoped he'd make it to his room without collapsing. He almost missed Snape's departing comment. "And bring your swimwear. We will be near the ocean."

Twelve hours later, Harry stood next to Professor Snape staring at the ocean from a copse of trees and scrubby hedges several meters above the shoreline. He'd just undergone his first experience of apparition—side-along apparition according to the headmaster, who had waved them off moments ago after delightedly transfiguring a pair of Harry's boxers into nearly knee-length swimming trunks. He'd held up the rather sedate blue garment and—Harry was sure of this—had been about to add some sort of garish addition such as rainbow colored broomsticks or golden stars when Snape snatched the trunks from him and stuffed them back in Harry's trunk. Harry was indescribably relieved that he'd packed his boxers on the top of his trunk instead of his smalls. At the gates of Hogwarts, Snape had instructed him to take his arm and to hold on and moments later they had reappeared right here. The feeling was altogether unpleasant, like being forced through a straw and squeezed by a boa constrictor at the same time. He'd felt breathless when they reapparated, but at least he landed on his feet and wasn't covered with soot. So far, the only magical transportation that didn't nauseate Harry was travel by broomstick. But where were they?

But Snape was not staring out at the ocean like Harry was. He was pulling a piece of parchment out of his cape pocket and unfolding it. He handed it to Harry, who quickly read the words written on it in Albus Dumbledore's fine, spidery hand-writing.

"Shell Cottage is found on the eastern coast of England, number 22 Cairn Way, Yorkshire."

Instantly, the clearing disappeared and a cottage popped in in its place. While #12 Grimmauld Place had seemed to squeeze its way out between #11 and #13, this cottage seemed to swell out from the ground like a giant mushroom, displacing the hedges and scooting them over to each side. It was small and tidy, tightly constructed against the coastal winds and rains, and surrounded by sheltering trees. One side of the house was attached to a magnificent porch which overlooked the ocean. Harry involuntarily took a step forward, drawn in as if by the house itself.

A low chuckle startled him.

"It has that affect on people, doesn't it?" Snape muttered. "Damn welcoming cottage—like a warm fire on a cold night." He shook out his traveling robe and walked purposefully toward the garden gate. He stopped to open it, then turned back toward Harry and fixed him with a stare that, while not unfriendly, was certainly not as welcoming as the cottage was. "Come on, then." Harry took one last look around then followed his professor. At the door, Snape produced a set of keys on a simple silver ring. The keys were of various shapes and sizes and Snape quickly sorted through them and inserted one in what looked to be an ordinary lock precisely in the center of the door. After turning it, he removed the key and sorted through them again, this time selecting a different key, inserting it, and giving it a full turn. This process continued through at least five more keys before he whispered "Alohamora" and the door swung open. Harry could not help but wonder if the keys were an elaborate ruse and the door could be opened with the simple unlocking spell.

Once inside, Snape removed his cloak and hung it on a hook in the entry foyer. Harry did the same with his jacket, then looked around at the cottage interior. The entryway opened into a large sitting room with an elaborate fireplace embedded with shells. An open door from the sitting room led to a spacious kitchen. Stairs led up from the other side of the foyer. While the outside was decidedly welcoming, the inside could only be described as cozy—lots of worn and comfortable furnishings, decorations with a marked seascape influence. Snape directed Harry onto the sitting room sofa with a hand gesture and chose a seat for himself on a blue plush chair directly across from him. He stared at Harry for a few moments. The experience was beginning to unsettle Harry—Snape was being decidedly unSnapelike. He wasn't sneering, nor was he smiling. He didn't call Harry "Potter" but he didn't call him "Harry" either. In fact, it seemed that he'd somehow managed to turn off all emotions, handling Harry in an almost clinical fashion, a feat that—like the previous night in the infirmary—did little to put Harry at ease.

When Snape spoke, Harry jumped a bit. Snape's voice was quiet yet each word was sharply annunciated.

"I am here today with you because the Headmaster made a request of me. I am honoring that request as well as a commitment I made 15 years ago—to your mother."

"My mother? What does my mother…? Harry tried, he really did. He knew interrupting would not get him anywhere with Snape, but when it came to his mother…his mother…

The words had died on his lips when he became the recipient of a very Snapelike glare.

"Do not interrupt me again." Harry thought Snape must be trying particularly hard not to hex him. He glanced at his wand hand and was sure he saw it twitch a bit.

"Your mother…" Here Snape paused and turned his head to look out the window into the front garden. After a moment's reflection he turned back to face Harry, continuing in the same quiet voice, a little less sharp than before. "Your mother was my . . . friend." Talking about Lily seemed to be painful for him, Harry noted, and he wisely kept his mouth shut. He would do almost anything to hear about his mother, even from Snape, even when the words coming out of his mouth made almost no sense to Harry. How could they have been friends? You were in Slytherin!

But Snape was staring at him with narrowed eyes. "You are an open book, Mr. Potter. Yes, we were in different houses. Yes, I was in Slytherin and she in Gryffindor. But we met as children—we grew up in the same neighborhood." Harry knew his face again betrayed his surprise, the shock at learning his mum and Snape were childhood friends. "And that is all you will hear about that for the moment. Suffice it to say that I made a promise and I intend to keep it. I did not think that I would have to act so…so…overtly to do so."

Harry watched Snape as he stood and walked over to the low bookshelves that lined a wall of the room. He scanned the shelf only briefly before pulling out a very old leather-bound tome. He blew the dust from the top of the book and handed it to Harry.

"Choose either of the smaller bedrooms upstairs—they both overlook the ocean. I'll bring up your trunk and enlarge it and you will have an hour to unpack and explore the house and grounds. Stay off the shoreline for the time being—it is quite rocky and the sea here a bit unpredictable. At 10 o'clock you will meet me on the porch. I trust you will find it in your explorations. Bring the book."

Harry nodded, but his attention was directed to the book in his hands. The title was benign enough—Mind Magic. No, what caught his eye was the author…Gellert Grindelwald. He didn't know what to ask first—why he was given a book by a former Dark Lord or how Snape knew it was there to begin with. He swallowed.

"Sir? You've been here before?"

Snape's bright black eyes bored into him. "You are given a book authored by Gellert Grindelwald and your first question is whether I've been to this cottage before?"

"I thought I might only get the one question, sir," answered Harry.

Snape stared at him a moment longer. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. I've been here before. You are holding my book, in fact, the book the headmaster gave me when he brought me here to learn Occlumency shortly after…" He hesitated. "Shortly after you received…that scar."