Harry was resting on his bed, his left arm flung over his face. After Snape had explained to Harry that the turtle was one of the most symbolic of animals, appearing in ancient and Native American cultures and mythology and representing longevity, immortality, heaven and earth, protection and more, Harry had stared at him a long moment and said "I'm going to go lie down for a while."

Snape had let him go and now Harry was trying very hard not to fall asleep. The last thing he needed right now was another dream. To distract himself, he picked up his book and read for more than an hour before finally falling asleep. He did not remember dreaming when he awoke.

Snape and Harry had take-out Chinese for dinner. They played a quick game of chess afterwards—quick because a distracted Harry was even worse at chess than a Harry who was paying attention. After the first game, Snape wisely put away the chessboard and fished out the London guidebook from the desk drawer. They charted their course for the next day, deciding on Greenwich first and the Tower of London and Tower Bridge on the way back, with the possibility of stopping in to see St. Paul's Cathedral. Snape put the book away and then had Harry settle on the couch while he brought out the potions and creams he'd been using to treat Harry's arm. He finished by placing the arm back in the sling, adjusting it so that Harry's elbow was bent at a 90 degree angle and the arm was held closely and tightly against his stomach.

"You haven't asked about the treatment at St. Mungo's," he said quietly as he adjusted the sling.

"Why? Is there something I should know?" asked Harry suspiciously. He had become so accustomed to trusting Snape that it hadn't even occurred to him to ask more questions about the upcoming visit.

"Yes, there is," replied Snape. He finished adjusting the sling and began to rub more post-Cruciatus cream between Harry's fingers and onto the palm of his hand. "The specialist will evaluate the condition of your arm before deciding on the most appropriate course of treatment. Treatment will likely involve a potion similar to Skele-Gro."

Harry shuddered. His experience with Skele-Gro had been an extremely painful one. Snape noted his shudder and pursed his lips.

"Unfortunately, regrowing nerves is an exceedingly painful process. There are actually two processes involved—one to strip out the existing damaged nerves and a second to regrow them."

Harry's mouth had almost dropped open. Stripping out nerves? Was Snape insane? He thought twice before saying that out loud, however.

"Is that…is that absolutely necessary?" he asked instead.

"No," answered Snape. "Nerves that are not severed totally will often regrow and repair on their own, sometimes at a rate of a millimeter or so a day. Do you want to wait that long?"

Harry was quickly trying to do the calculations in his head. His forearm, he figured, was no more than 30 centimeters long. So, 300 millimeters…

"That would take nearly a year!"

"And there are no guarantees, either. The damage may be too severe for the regrowth to happen on its own. Harry, I am not telling you this to give you a panic attack. I simply am not in favor of taking you to St. Mungo's without you understanding there is the possibility of having to stay there for two or three days."

Harry's eyes widened. Two or three days?

"What day is it? Today?"

"Today is Wednesday, August 14th," answered Snape. "We will be going to St. Mungo's on Friday. I would expect your release by Sunday, Monday at the latest. Following that, we may be able to return to Hogwarts to await the start of term."

"Can I…can I sign myself in?" asked Harry, remembering McGonagall's reference to the need for a guardian for Harry.

Snape shook his head. "You are still underage in the wizarding world, and your treatment will require your guardians' consent. Professor Dumbledore visited the Dursleys today to acquire that consent."

"What if they won't sign?" asked Harry. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to agree to sign or refuse to do so.

"Are you hoping they don't?" countered Snape shrewdly. "Professor Dumbledore can be quite persuasive." He let that statement hang and less than five minutes later the floo flared to life and Professor Dumbledore stepped into the room, dusting off his cobalt blue robes.

An hour later, Harry found himself in the most unlikely of situations. He was sitting in a strange Muggle's home, on a sofa covered with a very colorful afghan, making small talk with a very fat man while Dumbledore used the loo. Now that had been unexpected. Not that he used the loo—but that he had done so directly after having arrived and repairing the huge mess Slughorn had made in an attempt to throw Dumbledore off his trail. Slughorn was staring at him, his gaze flickering to Harry's eyes occasionally, then resting on his scar. The man was absolutely paranoid, leaving Harry to wonder what exactly was happening in the wizarding world this summer to make him so jumpy.

He was happy to leave there with Dumbledore soon afterward, even though the trip back to the flat involved another go at side-along apparition. Dumbledore seemed to think the errand was an unmitigated success.

Snape was waiting for them when they returned to the flat.

"You were successful, I take it?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore, who had a satisfied smile on his face.

"Indeed. Horace will be returning to Hogwarts as our new Potions Professor in two weeks time."

"And you will warn Harry about him? You will not let him use him to advance his own fame and fortune?"

Harry quickly glanced over at Snape. Snape was paying no attention at all to Harry, focusing solely on the Headmaster.

"I suspect you have already done so, Severus," replied Dumbledore. "However, we accomplished our errand despite Harry's reservations at meeting Horace."

"He will not be part of that braggart's club," insisted Snape. "I will fill Harry in on the details and you will not encourage him to humor the old codger."

Dumbledore, instead of looking miffed that Snape was taking this attitude with him, looked strangely satisfied.

"Severus, please. Handle this how you see fit with Harry. For now, we have another matter to discuss." He pulled out two rolls of parchment from a hidden inside pocket of his robes and placed them on the sofa table, sitting down in one of the wingback chairs while Severus settled on the end of the sofa. Harry stood where he was, unsure if he was to be included in this discussion.

"Sit down, Harry," said Dumbledore. "This conversation is about you and you should have a say in it."

Harry sat down on the sofa, leaving a cushion between himself and Snape. Dumbledore reached over and picked up one of the roles of parchment and unrolled it, stretching it out on the table.

"The Dursleys have signed the consent for treatment form," he said without preamble, passing the parchment over to Snape.

"They probably hope the treatment will be incredibly painful," commented Harry, trying to get a look at the complicated form Snape was perusing.

"They have also signed the other form," continued Dumbledore with only a sidelong glance at Harry to acknowledge his statement.

Snape rolled up the first document and replaced it on the table.

"We cannot file it until after treatment," he said. "They must still be considered his legal guardians until he is admitted."

"Of course." Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Harry, we have asked the Dursleys to rescind their guardianship of you. As you legally need a guardian in the Magical World until you are 17, Professor McGonagall has agreed to take on that responsibility. It is a responsibility sometimes asked of Heads of Houses and she has willingly stepped into the role. However, so as not to delay treatment for your injury, we will not file that paperwork until you have left St. Mungo's." He glanced over at Snape. "Considering your success at working together this summer, I would have liked to have asked Professor Snape to step in instead of Professor McGonagall. However, this would not have been practical at Hogwarts."

Harry could just imagine waiting outside of Snape's office for a lecture on his grades, or receiving a howler in the Great Hall with Snape's voice booming out of it.

Harry reached for the second roll of parchment.

"Can I see it?" he asked. Neither Snape nor Dumbledore stopped him, so he picked up the parchment roll and opened it, scanning it quickly until he came to Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's signatures. He thought he would feel extremely happy to know that it was official—they had no authority over him any longer. He would never have to return to the Dursleys to live. He didn't really have to ever see them again if he didn't want to. But a part of him felt rather like a rejected orphan, even though in all actuality he'd felt like that for as long as he could remember. Sighing, he re-rolled the document and placed it back on the table beside the first one.

"So, what exactly will change once Professor McGonagall becomes my guardian?" he asked. He understood the legal necessity of the action, but from a practical point, he hadn't had a guardian at Hogwarts ever. No one sent howlers when he got in trouble, no one checked his marks to be sure he wasn't a total waste of space, no one sent him boxes of his favorite treats before final exams to "get him through" the rough spots. Well, Mrs. Weasley remembered him when she sent stuff to Ron, but the Weasleys didn't check up on him to make sure he wasn't skiving off classes or anything.

"Quite a bit will change," answered Dumbledore. Harry caught his sidelong glance at Snape and wondered what that was about. "Any issues with your academic performance or behavior will be directed to her instead of to the Dursleys. She will also be responsible for providing for your physical needs, including clothing and medical care, as well as shelter during the holidays and between the time after sixth year and your seventeenth birthday. The stipend the Dursleys received from your parents' estate will now be directed to Professor McGonagall, to be used, of course, for your needs."

"Wait a minute. What stipend? The Dursleys received money from my parents?"

Snape shot Dumbledore a malevolent look. Dumbledore seemed perplexed.

"Yes, of course. That is a basic provision of guardianship. The guardians normally act as trustees for the ward and monitor his or her estate. However, your parents provisioned their estate such that the bulk of it was reserved for your use once you reached your majority. A much smaller portion was put into a special fund for your needs until you reached the age of 17. This was apportioned to the Dursleys by Gringotts directly on a monthly basis, as directed in your parents' will. The money would not have gone to you directly, Harry, unless they elected to give you a cash allowance. They would have used it to help pay for their housing and utilities, recreation, food and of course your clothing, supplies and toys. In short—your portion of the household expenses along with your personal needs."

Harry was looking at Dumbledore as if he had grown another head. Don't be angry, he told himself. He didn't know. He couldn't have known. He always sees the best in people…he can't help it…" He swallowed and looked up again at the professors. Snape looked like it was costing him a great deal to keep his mouth shut. He glanced at Harry and leaned forward to pick up the scrolls.

"Fortunately," he said, "these documents will assure that the Dursleys don't see another penny of Potter's money. Minerva will see to it that the stipend is used to get him proper clothing and shoes and allow him a suitable monthly allowance for Hogsmeade's visits and school supplies." He handed the scrolls to Dumbledore, who slipped them back into his robe pocket. He turned to Harry. "It is late and we have a tiring day planned for tomorrow. Perhaps 15 minutes of journaling will be sufficient this evening. I believe a new topic is in order—however, it is one I will require you to identify. What adjective best describes how you feel now—after learning what you have just learned?"

Harry stared at Snape a moment, realizing the appropriateness of the task he'd assigned. He nodded his understanding and stood, managing to politely bid the Headmaster goodnight before returning to his room. He closed the door and sat on his bed with his journal in his lap. Anger? Disappointment? Fury? Rejection? Bitterness? What did he really feel? Empty, perhaps. It was bad enough that they had treated him like they did but doubly worse that they had been paid to take care of his needs and had still treated him like the Malfoys treated their house elves.

He picked up his charmed quill and started to speak his thoughts out loud. Even with the door closed, he could hear Snape in the front room "talking" to Professor Dumbledore. Someone was enraged on his behalf. Snape was enraged on his behalf and was going head to head with the Headmaster.

Harry smiled. He turned the page of his journal and changed his assignment on the fly. He'd much rather write about how he felt now than how he felt when he'd learned that the Dursleys were using his stipend money to fatten up Dudley some more. But putting a word to the emotion welling up within him was more difficult that he thought. Cherished? Too sappy. Happy? Too generic? Loved? Well, he'd felt loved by some people since he came to Hogwarts.

Finally, he spoke the word aloud and the charmed quill dutifully wrote it out.

"Wanted."