Harry very nearly got bowled right back out of the common room the second he stepped in. All the Weasley boys were in the common room, Ron anxiously pacing back and forth. Even the twins seemed more sober than they had been over the last week. Then Ron spotted him and Harry found himself getting more-or-less tackled by an anxious Ron.

"Harry! Mate, are you all right? I mean ... McGonagall said ... and you've been gone all night!"

Harry couldn't stop the grin at Ron's concern. "I'm ok, Ron, really. The teachers've been brilliant about it. Snape's even taking me to get new glasses, since these are years old, and I should have got new ones a while back, but *they* were too rotten to get them for me."

"SNAPE?!" Ron shrieked. "Why're you going with *him*? He hates ... "

"Actually, I don't think he really does, Ron." Harry pointed out. "He ... ummm ... the detention was a fake. I guess the teachers noticed, and asked him to pull me aside. I guess a few Slytherins have come from bad homes in the past or something, and so Snape's used to dealing with that sort of thing. But he didn't want to blab their suspicions all over the place, so he gave me the 'detention'. And I gotta get going ... we're leaving in an hour!" He really didn't want to go into details just now, even if there had been enough time, so the time limit was quite a relief.

"Not without me you're not!" Ron insisted, still nowhere near convinced that the Greasy Git was anything but. Even if he had, apparently, suffered a moment of insanity and been tolerable to Harry.

Severus found himself highly amused (though he didn't show it) when Harry showed up at the main doors a full fifteen minutes early ... with the *entire* Weasley clan currently attending school at his heels. The youngest looked angry and suspicious. The twins seemed more amused than anything else, though there was a glint of outrage in their eyes that Severus knew from long experience boded ill for whoever had aroused their ire. Much as he hated pranks, he had to admit that the twins at least limited themselves to deserving targets, devoting themselves to taking various bullies down a few pegs. He wondered if perhaps he ought to ensure their ire found its target this time, given the ... subject. Percival had a pinch-faced, unhappy look to him. "I do not recall inviting the Weasley clan." He said.

Harry scowled. "I *tried* to get them to leave off, but they insisted on coming, and then Percy followed us, saying they shouldn't interfere, and, well ... " He waved a hand at the four behind him with an exasperated sigh.

Snape almost smiled. "I assure you, gentlemen, that I do not have nefarious purposes in mind where Mr. Potter is concerned." He told them, then eyed Ron, who still looked less than convinced, which was hardly surprising. "You do your House, and your friendship with Mr. Potter credit, Mr. Weasley, but rest assured, your Head of House knows what's going on and fully approves." He couldn't quite restrain a smirk when Ron gave him a gobsmacked look. Dropping the 'Snarky bastard of the dungeons' ploy was, apparently, going to be as much fun as employing it had been in the early days. "Mr. Potter and I shall return later this evening. And Messrs. Fred and George? I shall see you at the regular time. I believe we will have much to cover."

The twins, never stupid at the worst of times, caught what he was alluding to, and gave viciously pleased grins before nodding, then grabbing a still-stunned Ron and heading off. Percy lingered just long enough to apologize for his brothers' behavior, then took off as well.

"Shall we then?"

Harry followed him quietly as they walked down to Hogsmeade, then took the floo at the Three Broomsticks to the Leaky Cauldron. A quick trip to Gringotts for some galleons, and then Snape lead the way to the oculist's.

It took less than half an hour for Harry to be outfitted with new frames and self-updating lenses, all spelled to be unbreakable and impervious to weather. Their next stop was the cobbler's for a pair of proper shoes for Harry. It was while Harry was being fitted that Severus noticed something else ... mainly, that the boy's clothing was in worse than piteous shape. Up to now, the boy'd been dressed entirely in his school uniform, but today had evidently opted for more casual wear (probably hoping to not stand out as much, Severus supposed). The outer robe he wore had hidden the shabby clothes until Harry'd had to stick a leg out for his foot to be measured, exposing the sorry state of both his socks and his trousers.

Wordlessly, Severus steered them to the Leaky Cauldron and settled the two of them in a corner booth where they'd be less likely to be noticed. He passed over the two potions that Harry needed, and encouraged him to order what he wanted. Once they'd been served and were left alone, Severus finally spoke up.

"Harry, while we were in the cobbler's, I noticed your socks and trousers were in ill repair. Are all your clothes as bad?"

Harry flushed crimson, but nodded. "I only ever got Dudley's castoffs." He admitted.

Severus grumbled mentally, and fought down the desire to go to Privet Drive and hex Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley to within an inch of their lives. "Then we shall have to make a stop at Madame Malkin's, and get you some replacements."

Harry flashed him a wide, happy grin, even though his cheeks were still flushed. "That'd be brilliant! Thanks."

Severus huffed slightly, fighting down the hex-urge again. Bloody blasted ... of all the ... thankful for clothes that fit right and weren't falling apart? He was going to *kill* the Dursley's. And the Headmaster. "Think nothing of it, Harry." It was, Severus knew, improper for him to call the boy by first name (given that he had no other relatives currently attending Hogwarts, like the Weasley clan), but he knew himself well enough to be chary of calling the boy 'Potter', since that name had more than enough negative connotations where he was concerned.

After lunch, it took little enough time to outfit the boy with enough underthings, trousers and shirts to keep him at least until he started growing under the influence of the supplement, which would start happening about the time Harry stopped taking the potion. In the midst of that, Severus discovered the boy had no appropriate winter wear, and purchased gloves and a heavy winter cloak for the boy.

That finished, the pair of them made their way back to the school, and Severus returned to his office to grade assignments, only to find himself distracted.

He hadn't expected this. Not at all. He wished, now, that he'd paid more attention when a less-than-pleased McGonagall had mentioned Harry being left with the 'Dursley's', a decade ago. Dumbledore had told him the boy had been taken somewhere safe, but had never said who, or where. Though, in his own defense, he wouldn't have immediately realized the import of the name even if he hadn't buried himself in grief. He'd not seen Petunia since ... fifth or sixth year, had it been? And even before that, he'd paid her and her harping no mind. And when ... well, once he'd made that colossal mistake, Lily hadn't exactly been of a mind to let him know about familial events like a marriage, had she? So he'd not known Petunia had married, much less to whom.

Still, he wished he HAD known. No wizarding child deserved Petunia as an authority figure over them. She'd been hateful and unreasonable from the day he'd met her, and had only gotten worse over the years. He would have been able to make it plain to Dumbledore that leaving the boy with her was completely unsupportable. It was a miracle the boy hadn't become another Voldemort in the making thanks to the 'care' he'd received at that house.

Severus sat back from his desk with a sigh. This was going to change everything. And he'd not get a moment's peace, he knew, until he sorted matters out. That it would put off grading first-year essays (always an execrable task) was just a benefit. He grabbed a regular quill and drew a roll of parchment to himself, scribbling down items that needed to be dealt with.

The boy ... Harry's ... clothing and glasses and general physical state had been (or were in the process of being) dealt with. So was guardianship. He'd need to speak to Harry about that. He doubted the boy'd be thrilled that Severus, of all people, was taking up that charge, but then again, Harry might surprise him. Merlin alone knew that if someone had offered himself the same 'salvation', he'd likely have jumped at it, no matter what they looked or acted like.

Once he had the guardianship papers, he'd have to make sure everything was in order regarding the Potter vaults ... speaking of which! He highly doubted Harry knew anything about his inheritance. The thought made Severus sneer as it brought James to mind, but there was no denying that Harry deserved to know that he had money enough to make the Malfoy's green with jealousy, and that for all he was a half-blood, he boasted a wizarding pedigree (on his blasted father's side) longer than anyone short of the Blacks and possibly the Weasleys could trace. And there was the manor to consider. Severus knew it had been undergoing repairs at the time ... well, back then ... as the place had suffered damage in the attack that had killed the elder Potters, but he did not know if the repairs had been completed before ... then. Nor did he have a clue as to whether the Potter family elves still lived, or what their names had been.

However, if the place was livable, they could easily renew the wards and stay there over the summer. Anything was better than Spinner's End. Snape sneered at the very thought of the place. He hated it, but living in the castle the year 'round since shortly after Voldemort's downfall, he'd not ever seen the need to purchase a home he could abide. Certainly, at this point, he had more than enough money to do so (much to his secret pleasure).

And there was Harry's schooling to consider. Dumbledore might waffle on about letting the boy be a child, but Severus was rather painfully aware that when Voldemort returned, Harry would be a priority target. He'd have to see about encouraging Harry to work to his full capacity. Remedial lessons in how to study and such things would be needed, since the Dursleys had done everything in their power to squash Harry like a bug, but if Harry had even half of Lily (and his bloody father's) intelligence, he'd catch on quickly. He'd speak to Minerva later about additional lessons for the boy, under the guise of helping him bridge the gap between his Muggle education and what a wizarding boy his age should know.

Severus sat back for a few moments and considered. Yes, those were the immediate issues. The thornier, trickier problems (like what to do about Dumbledore, and whether or not the wolf should be contacted), he'd ruminate on at greater length another time, as they would take considerable thought. He would also have to come up with some sort of plan of attack where Voldemort was concerned. And quite aside from Harry and his attendant issues, there was Quirrel to be dealt with. Snape wasn't quite sure what going on with that man, but he made all of Severus' finely-honed instincts scream in warning.

Sunday morning, Harry found himself summoned to McGonagall's office. Wondering what the heck was going on, he arrived early and knocked on the door.

"Ahh, Harry, come in." McGonagall called, then gave him a faint smile when she saw how hesitant he looked. "You're not in trouble, Harry, not in the least. Severus just brought a few things to light that are going to need dealing with." Ire sparked in her eyes, but Harry knew it was all for the Dursleys, and not him.

"Now, he mentioned something about you not working to your full capacity in school, to avoid trouble with the Dursleys?"

Harry grimaced, but nodded. "I used to get whaled on if I brought back grades better than his. They even told the teachers I stole Dudley's homework, forcing him to scribble something a lot worse in order to at least have homework to turn in."

McGonagall's lips thinned angrily. "I see. So you probably had little to no chance to learn proper study techniques."

Harry shook his head.

"Well, we shall be remedying that lack over the next few weeks, Harry, and I shall be giving you instruction on a few other things that will make life easier for you ... such as how to wrangle a quill."

Harry blushed. His work the last week had been ... well, less than neat. Quills stumped him. "I really appreciate that, Professor." He said.

McGonagall gave him another small smile. "It's no trouble, lad. In all honesty, the sorts of things we'll be covering in these lessons are things you should have known before you came, but didn't get a chance to learn." Like who his family was. Severus had been only too pleased to dump the whole 'tell him about the Potters' issue in her lap. She couldn't blame him, given his history with James. She would tackle that, though, another time. Today, she intended to begin addressing the gaps in his education, a task both she and Severus intended to work on, in various ways.

They spent the rest of what quickly became a quite enjoyable day working together. Minerva quickly discovered that, given a bit of encouragement, Harry was every bit as industrious and diligent as Lily had been. He truly seemed to have inherited the best of both his parents. Minerva also discovered that giving a bit of explanation coupled with a step-by-step demonstration seemed to be the best way for Harry to catch on to something. At the very least, when she mentioned that you needed to mentally visualize the desired end-product to do a successful Transfiguration, and a gentle correction of his pronunciation of the spell, Harry went from struggling with the original homework (toothpicks into needles) to successfully transfiguring the matches with incredible speed and accuracy within an hour. The same occurred when she tried him on the first week's Charms lesson.

It also brought home the fact that Severus had been correct to have these lessons performed ... by the time they got to school, practically every wizarding child knew that you needed to visualize (accurately) to succeed in Transfiguration, no matter your power level. Such information was also included in the packets (and extra books) recommended to Muggleborns, which Harry hadn't had access to.

For his part, Harry was loving the lesson. Thanks to McGonagall's tips, things were making so much more sense, now! And Charms and Transfiguration (at least the first lessons, anyway) had gone from being nearly impossible to ridiculously easy. The essays, sadly, would be a pain in the arse, but at least the practical end looked to be simple enough, though he doubted that would last for long.

HPHPHP

Severus had burned the list as soon as he'd made it, of course. There was no way he was going to allow something like that to lay around, even in his own quarters. Still, it had helped to write things down. He'd then fire-called Minerva about teaching Harry the things he'd need to catch up.

He spent all of Sunday morning catching up on his marking, grimacing in disgust at the first-year essays. Why he insisted on doing that to himself, he really didn't know. Their handwriting (save a few Ravenclaws and the Granger girl) was uniformly awful. And that Granger girl seemed obsessed with displaying the breadth and totality of her knowledge. Her essay was a full foot longer than required, and went much further in depth than he'd asked for. He shook his head, and made a mental note to speak to her later. How she'd been sorted into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw, he couldn't figure. Maybe the hat was getting senile? After all, Harry really ought to have ended up in Slytherin, given his home situation (he certainly exhibited Slytherin traits!). It made him wonder who else had been misplaced.

Almost as if the thought had summoned them, the twins arrived at his office door, looking unusually somber.

"Can we talk to you, sir?" Fred asked. Severus had learned to tell them apart, not so much by looks (as that was truly identical) as by demeanor (which was not). The two of them deliberately tried to keep people guessing as to who was who, but for someone like Severus, who had trained for years to notice the small things, the trick didn't work, and they'd long since stopped trying to confuse him, as part of the ... detente ... between them.

"Of course." He motioned them to the chairs in front of his desk, and closed (and warded) the door after they walked in. "I presume this is about Harry."

George nodded. "Yessir. Is it true? Did they ... " He trailed off. The expression on Snape's face enough to tell him it was, indeed, true. The twins looked at each other and nodded. "He's not going back, is he?"

"Most assuredly not, gentlemen." Snape told them. "He is, in point of fact, now under my protection."

That made the twins grin viciously. "Good." They chorused, before Fred continued. "If you would like any assistance in making his relatives' lives hell, sir, let us know. We'll be more than happy to help."

"I may indeed do so. At present, the Dursleys are rather far down on my list of priorities, as Harry himself needs seeing to, but once the immediate issues are taken care of, I fully intend to ... inform them as to their error."

"There's ... something else we wanted to talk to you about, sir. Something we noticed last week, but didn't really ... well, things are different now, aren't they?" George said. With evident reluctance, he brought an old, worn bunch of parchment out of a pocket. "We want this back."

Snape eyed the parchment with confusion, but nodded. "It will be returned to you." He promised.

George took a breath, pulled his wand, and tapped the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He said.

Severus watched in amazement as words became visible. He went rigid when he recognized the names, and glowered when a detailed map of the school rolled across the parchment. So *that* was how they'd done it!

"We snitched this from Filch first year." George admitted. "Been using it since. We've been using it to keep an eye on Ron and Harry, as well as for pranks, and we've seen someone on the map twice now that we don't recognize as a student, teacher, or ghost. Once, he was in Harry's dorm. A guy named Peter Pettigrew."

It took every bit of practice Snape had had over his life to keep himself from reacting to that name. Pettigrew? It couldn't be. Black had killed him! Blown him to smithereens! "Are you quite sure?" He was rather proud of how steady his voice was.

"As sure as we can be, sir." Fred confirmed.

Snape eyed the map. "I would like to keep the map for a time, gentlemen. It would perhaps be wise to see how it works. It's possible the name could be some sort of glitch."

"We kind of figured you'd want to take a look at it." Fred said, handing it over. "You heard the activation phrase. To shut it down, tap it and say 'Mischief Managed.'."

Snape nodded. "Thank you, gentlemen. It will be returned to you as soon as possible. Now, I believe the two of you had some brewing you wanted to do?"

That got them to grin, and they scurried towards the potions lab. "We sure do!" George tossed over his shoulder.

Severus watched them go, then eyed the map. So much for whether or not to get in contact with the wolf. If anyone knew what had gone into the map's creation, it would be him. He gave a disgusted sigh. He'd have to start on some wolfsbane. There was no way in hell he'd allow the wolf within ten miles of Harry without it, honorary uncle status be damned. He drew the map to him and studied it with interest. He did not spot Pettigrew's name, but that hardly surprised him. If the twins had seen it only twice in the last week, he was unlikely to spot it this quickly.

Could Pettigrew have become a ghost, and begun to haunt the school in response to Harry's arrival? It was not beyond the realm of possibility, but he didn't know if the map displayed ghosts. He took a closer look, examining the map for one area in particular, where a ghost was more or less guaranteed to be, and gave a pleased nod when Myrtle's name showed up. So it did, indeed, show ghosts. That could be the answer. Ghosts did travel, after all, so he could only be visiting now and again. Still, it bore investigation.

He tapped the map with his wand and gave the deactivation phrase with a sneer, then pocketed the thing before heading into the potions lab. He had work to do before he wrote the wolf.

HPHPHP

The next few days, Severus didn't see much of Harry. There'd only been one lesson with the first-year Gryffindors, on Monday. He had to stay with the sneering, vicious demeanor until the papers came through lest Lucius back out. Fortunately, Harry not only seemed to understand, but seemed to think it was hilarious, if the cheeky grin he'd gotten when Harry had walked in behind the Slytherins was any indication. Certainly, he'd played his 'part' to the hilt, glaring and grumbling at Snape as if he hated him. Only the amusement in Harry's eyes gave the game away, and Snape was fairly certain that none of the Slytherins caught it, or if they did, they mistook the look in Harry's eyes for something else entirely. Snape told him his detention was at eight on Wednesday.

Which meant that Harry would be here in a matter of minutes. Snape stared at the sheaf of parchment on his desk, both amused and somewhat alarmed that Lucius had been as good as his word. He wished he could see the faces of the people confronted with Dumbledore and Malfoy agreeing on something. It would have been highly amusing.

There was a knock, and Snape called for Harry to come in. Harry slid through the smallest crack possible and closed the door tightly behind him. Snape nodded his approval and set the wards (and a Muffliato, just to be on the safe side) before giving another nod.

"It's safe to speak plainly, Harry."

"Good!" Harry said, then let out a breath. "I didn't go too far Monday?"

"Not at all, though if your Slytherin agemates were a bit more practiced, they might have detected that we were 'playing'. You looked a bit too amused for it to be entirely serious." Severus told him. "Given time, you'll figure out how to keep them guessing."

Harry clambered into the chair in front of Severus' desk, and Severus sighed. "There is something we need to speak about." He said. "The Dursleys, as you know, are entirely inappropriate as guardians. Given who you are, it was necessary to move fast, and as quietly as humanly possible, to reassign your guardianship, lest someone like the Malfoys seize control of you."

And as was rapidly becoming self-evident, Harry was anything but slow on the uptake. "You're my new guardian?" He asked.

"Indeed. I realize you know next to nothing about me, but hopefully we can deal well together." Then, with a faint, pained smile. "I think your mother would approve." He *hoped*. "We were friends when we were children."

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew my mum?"

"Yes. We became good friends when we were eight or nine ... lived in the same neighborhood." Then, with an amused snort. "I was actually the one who told your mother about the wizarding world. Like yourself, I am a halfblood ... my mother married a muggle ... " And he wasn't going to touch THAT subject further until such time as it became necessary. He liked to avoid remembering his father whenever he had the choice. "So I knew what was going on when I caught your mother doing accidental magic."

Harry looked like he was a second or two from exploding with questions, but somehow settled for an almost-hesitant. "Will you tell me about her, sometime?"

"Of course, Harry. But for now ... " He handed over the guardianship papers. "These came this morning."

Harry took the parchments with an almost reverent air, then grinned like a madman as he read through and saw, black-and-white, the proof that the Dursleys no longer had any hold over him. It pleased him immensely. "Thank you so much, sir." He told Severus, then handed the papers back.

"You're more than welcome. I would like to ask if you want the Dursleys punished legally?" It was Harry's option, though no matter what, Severus would be paying them a visit to register the depths of his displeasure with Petunia.

Harry squirmed and bit his lip. "I don't know, sir. I guess ... well, I don't really want everyone finding out, and you know they would." He made a face. "And besides, I'm not going back, so what would be the point? They're there, I'm here, and I never have to see them again."

Severus had to admit that Harry had a point about people finding out. Harry being who he was, and the wizarding world being what it was, everyone and their uncle's cousin's second aunt would know all about it approximately twenty-four hours after charges were levied, regardless of whatever attempts at security and secrecy were made. Harry would never hear the end of it, and the gossip-mongers would make his life even more of a living hell than it promised to be anyway. "Very well." He allowed. "It is entirely your choice. At any rate, you have until you reach your majority to change your mind about the matter, should you wish to do so."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, sir."

"Now, I think we should perhaps go over some of the basics of potions-making while I have you in 'detention' tonight, so we should head into the lab." Severus said.

Harry bounced to his feet. "Ok!"

The next two weeks were more or less heaven for Harry. He didn't even mind that he was spending an incredible amount of time with McGonagall and Snape after classes and on weekends, working on things. They both knew so many tricks and tips and refinements that in no time at all, he was catching Hermione up in the practical lessons, especially in Transfiguration. And it had even helped him with Charms (though not quite as much). Of course Ron thought he was completely mad, but he didn't complain too much, given that Harry was able to help him in turn.

Essays, even in Transfiguration and Potions, were a bother, as he was still getting used to doing them properly. He struggled with Herbology, as he had a bad tendency of shutting his brain off and working by rote when gardening, something you *really* couldn't do in Herbology without ending up in a world of trouble. History of Magic was nearly as bad, and Astronomy wasn't too much better. Neither was DADA, though Harry suspected he'd do better if it was a different teacher. Certainly, the stuttering, the reek of garlic and the headaches he got in that class didn't help matters. At the end of the week, he'd finally approached Snape about his difficulties in DADA, since he'd heard his first day in the castle that Snape knew a good deal about that subject. Much to his relief, Snape had been only too happy to help, and after that, the subject became much easier.

Potions, though, was both a major trial and a continuing source of hilarity. Once the guardianship papers had come through, Snape had dropped his snapping, sneering, vicious act like a bad habit ... much to the evident confusion of every student in the castle. The rumors about the change ranged from the probable (Dumbledore putting his foot down in regards to Snape's favoritism), to the scary (A Polyjuiced impostor and the Imperious curse being the front-runners) to the utterly ridiculous. Snape was still strict in class, and absolute, sudden death on anyone stupid enough to deliberately muck up their own or someone else's potion, though. A fact that Malfoy found out in the second week when he was caught trying to toss something into Harry's cauldron, and got a week's detention and lost twenty points.

That act finally got Ron on the 'Snape is ok' track. Apparently, stomping on Malfoy made you a good guy in Ron's books, though Harry really couldn't blame him. Malfoy was a complete prat. Harry was fighting an increasing urge to punch the git in the nose. He'd actually gotten *worse* since Snape had changed, rather than better, sniping at everyone viciously.

And today they had their first flying lessons. Harry was a bundle of nerves about it, though not nearly so bad as Hermione, who'd been talking his and Ron's ears off (despite their efforts to avoid her) with flying tips from Quidditch Through the Ages. At least the last two weeks had done him one favor ... he wasn't as stressed about not knowing what he was doing, just about whether or not he *could*.

Hooch came out and barked at them to stand next to the brooms, and gave them their instructions. Harry was quite pleased when his broom leaped to his hand instantly. Unfortunately, the next thing he knew, poor Neville was on the ground with a broken wrist while his broom drifted off over the Forbidden Forest.

Approximately three seconds after Hooch and Neville were out of sight, Malfoy started his crap up again.

"Pity the idiot didn't kill himself, instead of just breaking a wrist. He's a laughingstock to the name of pureblood wizards." Malfoy snapped.

To Harry's surprise, Parvati managed to respond first. "Shut *up*, you worthless, slimy git!" She fairly shrieked.

Harry himself (and the rest of the Gryffindors, he was pleased to see) were only a second behind her in voicing their opinions in an overlapping roar of outrage.

Of course, that made the Slytherins close ranks around Malfoy, glowering and snarling at them. Malfoy sneered cockily at them, as if daring them to try to hex him, then spotted something on the ground and snatched it up. "Hah! It's that fat git's remembrall. Too bad it couldn't tell him to remember to hang on." Then he got a nasty grin on his face. "Think I'll just ... "

"Give that back, Malfoy!" Harry blinked, as he and Ron had bellowed the same thing at the same time. "It doesn't belong to you!" Harry continued, while Ron glared at Malfoy.

Malfoy sneered again, mounting his broom and lifting off. "Come and make me then, Potter!"

Harry didn't stop to think, he just acted, jumping on his broom (ignoring Hermione's dismayed outcry in the process) and shot into the sky after Malfoy. And promptly discovered something that he, apparently, did not need any instruction in to be able to do, easily and well. This was ... glorious. Wonderful. Easy. For half a moment, he forgot Malfoy was up there with him, but then he was drawing even with the blonde git, who was looking rather stunned.

"Now what, Malfoy. No goons up here to save you. Give me that Remebrall, now!" He snapped.

Malfoy jeered at him again. "As if, Potter!" And wheeled around, taking off.

Harry didn't hesitate, flattening himself against the broom and giving chase. Malfoy looped up and around one of the towers, nearly knocking himself silly on an overhang that Harry avoided without even really noticing. That seemed to make Malfoy realize he wasn't going to be able to shake Harry off. At that point, he threw the remembrall at the castle wall as hard as he could, intending to destroy it.

Harry took off after it, coaxing ever bit of speed he could manage out of his broom, heedless of anything but the glint of the remembrall and the rapidly closing distance between him and it. Then he had it in his hand, and was swerving to avoid the wall, which was so close he stubbed his toes against it as he swung around.

It was only then that the rest of the world seemed to come back into existence ... and he realized, to his horror, that McGonagall and Snape both were on the ground below, and it was a tossup as to who looked angrier. Malfoy was already on the ground, glaring at Snape mutinously.

"GET DOWN HERE AT ONCE, MR. POTTER" McGonagall bellowed, and Harry quickly obeyed, head hanging.

"Explain." Oh hell. Snape sounded every bit as pissed as he had that first Potions class. Evidently, though, Malfoy either didn't hear it or decided to ignore the warning signs.

"Potter decided he was too good for the rules and started flying. I was just trying to get him down." Malfoy said.

The outraged roar from the Gryffindors made Harry feel a little bit better, but when Snape eyed him, he paled.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry hunched in on himself at the tone, and couldn't seem to manage to get his voice to work. Trying to protest his innocence before had never worked, so why would it now? Especially when they both looked angry enough to spit. But they weren't the Dursleys, now were they? And Snape'd said, several times, that it was theri job ... well, all right. At least this way, he'd know for sure, right?

"Sometime today, Mr. Potter." And there went McGonagall.

Well, there was nothing for it. "Neville dropped his remembrall when he fell off his broom." Harry said. "Malfoy said some really nasty stuff about him, then picked the remembrall up and was going to hide it or break it, so I went after him."

Snape looked back and forth between them, and something in his expression shifted. "Hmm. So I see. Come with us, boys."

And then they got marched down to McGonagall's office in complete silence. Harry was more than a bit concerned, but at least they weren't bellowing. Once there, the two Professors turned to face them, and Harry quailed, realizing for the first time what an exceedingly intimidating duo the pair made.

"As it so happens, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, your behavior did not go as unremarked as you may have wished." McGonagall snapped at them. "It has long been the staff's practice for at least one other professor to be on hand during the first flying lesson for the first year students, just in case there is a major problem." Well, that answered how they'd shown up so fast. "So the entire debacle was witnessed by myself. And I must say that I have never seen such a vulgar display of poor manners, Mr. Malfoy."

"It is quite apparent to me." Snape sounded positively venomous. "That you did not learn your lesson the first time, Mr. Malfoy. You will, therefore, find yourself with an additional week's detention, to be served with Mr. Filch, and you will be forbidden to use magic. Any complaints from Filch, any attempt to skive off your punishment, and more drastic measures will be taken."

Harry was stunned. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked confused, horrified, and absolutely furious, but he (sadly) had wit enough not to argue with a furious Snape.

"Understood, Professor." Malfoy snarled.

Harry had no trouble at all in believing Malfoy either was, or soon would be, attempting to think up ways to pay Snape back for this. From the narrow-eyed glare Snape was giving Malfoy, Snape was thinking much the same thing. "Return to your room, Mr. Malfoy, until next class."

"Yessir." Came the sullen response, and Malfoy slouched out of the room.

Snape made sure he had actually left before closing the door and turning to Harry. Fortunately for Harry's peace of mind, Snape didn't look like he wanted to kill someone anymore.

"I will not." Snape said. "Censure you for defending a Housemate, Harry, but taking off after Malfoy was exceedingly foolish, when you had no idea whether you could fly or not. Your life is worth more than Mr. Longbottom's bauble. You will be serving a detention ... and I do mean a detention, not a teaching session disguised as a detention! with me tonight at eight."

"And another with me for defying Madame Hooch's orders to stay on the ground, tomorrow night." McGonagall echoed. "She gave that order for a reason, Mr. Potter, though, like Severus, I do commend you for your willingness to defend a Housemate. You just need to learn to do so within the rules." She gave him a little smile. "That said, now that the unpleasant bit is done, I shall be taking you to meet Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. We're much in need of a Seeker, and as ill-advised as your stunt may have been, it showed you have great promise for that position."

Snape looked somewhat less than pleased about that, but evidently was willing to let it go, simply nodding to McGonagall and leaving the room while McGonagall led Harry towards the DADA classroom.

Oliver was ecstatic about the news that Harry was apparently a good flier. Harry and Oliver spent over an hour later that afternoon, after last class, on the pitch, with Oliver testing his flying ability and reflexes under McGonagall's (equally ecstatic) eagle eye.

"We've got to get him a proper broom, Professor. The school brooms just won't cut it." Oliver complained.

"Don't worry about that. I have a plan in mind." McGonagall said, sounding quite pleased with herself.

Of course, Malfoy couldn't let it go. The day after Harry's last detention (and Snape hadn't been kidding about a real detention, which had NOT been fun in the least), he challenged Harry to a duel, and before he could figure a way to worm out of it, Ron had spoken up for him, and he was committed. Once Malfoy'd stalked off, Harry turned to Ron.

"What'd you do that for? You know he won't show up!"

"He was challenging your honor, Harry! What were you going to do, turn coward?" Ron challenged, going red in the face. "Besides, not even Malfoy's coward enough to not show up at a duel he instigated."

"Oh, for the love of ... " Harry shook his head, exasperated. Still, if Malfoy did show up, it'd be fun to hex the git. He actually knew a spell or two now ... not that any of them would do much of anything, but still.

Hermione, of course, was less than pleased. Harry had been getting on with her a bit better, despite not truly wanting to, really. Sort of. Anyway, since he'd started doing more studying, she'd been a lot less cranky with him. Personally, he still thought she was a bit mad, because she still didn't think he was studying enough. He had a feeling that the only reason she'd gotten into Gryffindor was that she argued with the hat like he had done.

At any rate, she'd been less than pleased with them both, and she and Neville ended up following him and Ron to the trophy room. And of course, Draco proved that he was a welshing, backstabbing coward. Also? There was a god-almighty huge three-headed dog in the third floor corridor. What. The. Hell.

He almost went to Snape about it, but changed his mind at the last minute. He'd get in trouble for being out after curfew, and probably for falling for Malfoy's line, to boot. So he didn't, and spent a good amount of time with Ron trying to figure out what was going on.

HPHPHP

While that same time period was not 'heaven' for Severus, he was surprised to find himself less displeased than was the norm. Certainly, he got a good deal of amusement out of the school-wide rumors regarding his sudden lack of favoritism and cruelty, and had not had trouble in his classes, either, as everyone was, if anything, more paranoid and watchful than before. And too, Harry was proving to be ... adequate. They were still circling each other a bit, trying to figure each other out and get used to each other. Severus knew it would be a while before Harry truly began to trust him, but he was willing to wait. Harry was certainly proving to be a quick study, at least in some areas. It was quickly becoming evident that when it came to practical applications of 'wand waving', Harry picked things up with startling quickness. Not, perhaps, as quickly as the Granger girl, but certainly not far behind her. He was on the low end of average, however, when it came to understanding the theory and applications of magic. Still, that was being dealt with.

The flying incident had been ... rather interesting. Severus was not unaware of Draco's increasing attempts to get Potter and Weasley in trouble. He was also aware that the twins were watching, waiting for Draco to step over some unstated line, so they could go on the attack. He did not envy Draco if the boy earned the twins' ire.

About a week after that, Minerva came into the staff room looking excessively pleased with herself and sat down in her favorite armchair across from him. Severus let her get a cup of tea before he broke the silence between them.

"All right, woman. What have you done that has you grinning like the Cheshire cat?" He wanted to know.

"Oh, just something that's been needing to be done for the last five or six years. I finally got the governors to agree to purchase new brooms for the school."

Severus' eyebrows headed for his hairline. "How in the name of Merlin did you manage that?" He wanted to know. All four Heads of House and Hooch had taken turns for the last few years trying to argue the governors into agreeing to the expense, but they'd been unsympathetic.

"Pure luck, I will admit. Much as I wish it hadn't happened, Neville being injured was a godsend. Augusta was incensed. It took very little talking to convince her to focus her ire where it belonged."

Severus gave a viciously pleased smile. Augusta Longbottom was a dragon on the best of days. Threaten or injure the Longbottom heir, and she became a mother dragon guarding her clutch. Rumor had it that when one of her relations had hung Neville out a window a few years back, they'd spent more than a month in St. Mungo's afterwards being put back together again. It also helped that the Longbottoms were a very old family, which would carry more weight with the governors than if, say, a muggleborn's family had complained. "And so they finally loosened the purse-strings. I imagine Hooch is in transports of joy?"

"Very much so." Minerva said with a smile. "We're to get a set of Comet 260's for the children to learn on, and all the teams will be getting Nimbus 2000's." The school maintained brooms for the teams, to keep the playing field level, as not everyone would be able to afford a top-of-the-line broom.

Severus laughed out loud at that. "You cheeky cat! So that's why you did it. Any way to get the boy what he needs to play properly, without showing favoritism!"

Minerva smirked. "I've no idea what you're talking about, Severus. The teams have needed new brooms for a good long while. Their brooms are in worse shape than the ones the children use to learn on!"

"I know. Still, well played, Minerva. Almost Slytherin of you!"

Minerva went pink in the cheeks. "I'll thank you not to insult me, Severus!" She scolded, though her tone lacked any true anger.

"The next match is going to be ... interesting." Severus allowed. "When will the brooms be delivered?"

"Day after tomorrow." Minerva told him. "Plenty of time for the teams to practice before the first match."

Harry sighed when he woke up. Today was Halloween. Like every other holiday, it had, at best, been just another day for him, and at worst, a day to be taunted and tormented (but then, most days were like that anyway). Now, though, there was the additional knowledge that his parents had died today. Well, tonight, anyway. Kind of sucked all the fun out of the day, even if he couldn't really remember them.

To make matters worse, Ron and Hermione were at each others' throats ... again. And Harry found himself in the unusual position of being caught between them. He'd never had friends before, and didn't quite know what to do with the situation as the two of them sniped at each other all the way to Charms.

Unfortunately, Ron got paired with her by Flitwick, a state of affairs that Harry knew would not end well. Not that he had much more luck, getting paired with Seamus, who always seemed to manage to set things on fire or make them explode. They were set to work on the Wingardium Leviosa spell, and while Harry waited for the inevitable bang from Seamus so he could have his turn at trying the spell, he heard Hermione's (rather penetrating) voice correcting Ron, and Ron's infuriated response.

Afterward, Ron couldn't seem to get out of class fast enough, and before Harry knew it the two of them were all but racing from the room while Ron sounded off. Harry turned and was about to read him the riot act when Hermione, head down, shoved past them both and took off at something that wasn't quite a run.

"Damnit, Ron! See what you've done! She was only trying to help! I know she gets bossy, and it can be a bit hard to take sometimes, but really! There was no call for that!"

Ron flushed a dull red. "She doesn't have to be such a knowitall, Harry!" He objected.

"Maybe not, but you don't need to be an insensitive prat, either!" Harry pointed out. "Look, she's really not all that bad. She's completely brilliant. Overly obsessed with school and studying, yeah, but she can be pretty nice if you give her a chance. I get the feeling she doesn't really quite know how to make friends. It happens a lot, in the Muggle world. Bright kids like her get treated like crap a lot of times." And the good knew Harry understood what it was like to be friendless and alone, so he was rather sympathetic to Hermione, and more than willing to overlook her faults. Too, he was (thanks to working with Snape and McGonagall all the time) more interested in studying and putting in an effort in their schooling than Ron seemed to be. But then, Harry knew Ron had ... issues ... where his family was concerned. Issues that baffled him, quite frankly, because the lot of them sounded brilliant, and Mrs. Weasley had been so nice to him at the station, but Ron seemed to feel like there was absolutely nothing he could do to distinguish himself from his brothers, so why try. "So just ... try to lay off a little? Humor her? I dunno, something like that. She doesn't mean to make it sound like she thinks you're an idiot."

Ron growled and grumbled, but didn't outright say 'no', so Harry decided to take it for a reluctant 'yes'.

Unfortunately, Hermione disappeared for the rest of the day, which caused Harry to give Ron a few rather accusatory looks.

And then it was time for the feast. Harry wasn't quite feeling all that merry, between the night's associations and Hermione still being (he had found out during the day) in the third floor girls' bathroom. He decided to sit near the doors of the Great Hall, so he could slip out if he wanted, without drawing too much attention to himself, and a long-faced Ron joined him.

They'd barely begun to eat when Quirrell came thundering into the room shrieking like a girl about a troll. Harry gave Ron a horrified look as fully half the school started to scream, and those closest to the doors bolted like hell. Harry and Ron joined them, but for an entirely different reason. Hermione! She was out and about in the school!

They dimly heard Dumbledore yelling, followed almost instantly by McGonagall, and then they were out of hearing range. They got to the third floor just in time to spot the troll shuffling into the girl's bathroom, and hear Hermione's startled scream, followed by the troll's bellow.

Both boys raced into the room, which, much to their horror, was already half-trashed, thanks to the troll's club. Hermione was scrambling back and forth, trying to avoid getting smeared into paste, but unable to get past the troll to safety. Harry and Ron immediately started yelling and throwing bits of debris. Harry even shot sparks off at the thing. Finally, they got its attention, but unfortunately, all the wild swinging it was doing kept Hermione pinned down.

A minute or two of frantic ducking and dodging, tossing debris and (sadly, mostly entirely harmless) spells later, and then Ron, probably out of sheer desperation and frustration, bellowed out "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Harry wasn't quite sure who was more surprised when the spell actually worked, yanking the troll's club out of its grip ... Ron, Hermione, himself, or the troll. At any rate, Ron was so startled it worked he lost concentration and the club came crashing down. Right on the troll's head.

The troll went down like a ton of bricks, and for a moment the three of them stood there, staring at it stupidly before they got swept up in a case of more-than-slightly hysterical giggles.

And that's how Snape, McGonagall, and Quirrell found them, huddled together, half-hugging each other and half holding each other up as they fairly howled. To say Snape and McGonagall were less than pleased would be to vastly understate the case, but at least the looks on their faces managed to sober them up ... well, somewhat. Ron couldn't quite seem to keep from snickering quietly.

"Explain yourselves!" McGonagall all but shrieked.

Harry and Ron sort of stared at each other, and Hermione stepped forward. "It was my fault, Professors." She started.

At that point, though, Harry found his voice. "No it wasn't. Professors ... well ... Hermione wasn't at the feast. When Professor Quirrell came in and yelled about the troll, Ron and I realized she didn't know ... and I don't think any of the professors knew she was up here. By the time we got here, the troll was up here. If we hadn't run out of the Hall ... " Harry shuddered in horror at the thought of what could have, would have happened. He looked at Snape. "I know you told me to tell you if something came up ... but there wasn't *time*. We were sitting by the doors. By the time I'd have got to the front of the Hall ... "

Thankfully, both Professors seemed to be of a mind to not yell. McGonagall and Snape seemed to hold a silent conference before McGonagall nodded. "Twenty points each, gentlemen, for coming to the rescue of a classmate." She decreed. "And I think the three of you need to have a brief visit to the Infirmary to make sure you've come to no harm."

Snape eyed Quirrell like the man was a particularly offensive bug. "You stay here and dispose of the troll."

About the time they got to the Infirmary, the shakes started, as the full import of what they'd done, what they'd survived, and just how badly things could have gone hit them. Pomphrey bustled around them, fussing and scolding the three of them and the professors equally. Snape and McGonagall hovered, which Harry found a bit amusing ... and oddly comforting.

But then again, as much time as he spent with the two, he'd begun to see past their 'professor' personas. They were actually fairly similar in several respects, which probably explained how they got along so well (not that they let their students see that, obviously, but Harry'd seen more than a bit of it). Both were a bit on the perfectionist side, with rather dry senses of humor ... and kind of scary when they were angry. They also were both willing to go the extra mile to protect their charges (as witnessed by everything they'd done for him over the last two months). From there, though, McGonagall was an avid Quidditch fan, while Snape barely tolerated the existence of the sport as a way for kids to burn off excess energy. Snape was, by far, the quieter of the two, willing and able to spend hours in a surprisingly comfortable silence as he marked essays and Harry worked on homework. It was something Harry appreciated at times, since he still felt rather awkward around them both in private, as he just wasn't used to being the focus of someone's concern. Being allowed to 'retreat' a bit was appreciated. Fortunately, neither of them was pushing him to talk about the Dursleys. Frankly, the quicker Harry forgot they existed, the happier he'd be.

He, Hermione and Ron spent the night in the infirmary in adjoining beds. Sometime in the really early morning, they'd all been awake, and Ron had whispered over to Hermione. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn'ta mouthed off. If I hadn't ... "

Hermione gave a choked noise. "It's ok, Ron. Nobody knew there'd be a troll."

Harry grinned like a loon. It seemed his two friends were finally going to be ok with each other. They headed for the Tower as a trio, and were greeted by three Weasley boys, who nearly fell out of the entrance to the Tower when the Fat Lady moved aside. The next half hour or so was a confusion of explanations as the tale of the troll got told to what looked like the majority of the House.

HPHPHP

Once the trio had been seen by Pomphrey and collapsed into a much-needed sleep, Severus and Minerva retreated to her office. She headed straight for the hidden supply of Ogden's Finest she kept on hand for when things got especially trying between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, or when her Lions pulled something particularly hair-raising. She didn't bother asking him if he wanted some, as she knew he never drank. Not only did it remind him of his father, but loosening inhibitions had been a very, very, very bad idea for someone who needed to keep so many secrets. Instead, Severus indulged himself in a cup of particularly soothing tea.

"Here's to surviving the next seven years with those three in the school, if this is any indication of how things are going to go." Minerva said, raising her glass. "Good lord. They beat a troll, Severus. A troll! With first-year spells!"

"I am more concerned with how the troll got to the third floor from the dungeons." Severus commented. "It's rather a long trip."

Minerva sighed. "You do have a point." She agreed. "And I *still* can't believe that despite having heard the troll was in the dungeon, Dumbledore wanted to send everyone to their common rooms! Half the school would have been at risk at absolute best. As things turned out, they all could have been!"

"Thank you for forcing wiser heads to prevail in that matter." Severus said, lifting his cup. "Especially as it kept Quirrell under everyone's eyes."

"You're still convinced he's a danger?"

"More than ever. I do not know what is going on, precisely, but I do know that he is a danger. He has claimed in the past to have a ... gift ... with trolls." Severus told her.

That made Minerva narrow her eyes. "Has he? And yet he flees from one? Rather interesting, and I fear I'm beginning to agree with you. Something is not quite right." Then she sighed. "And I fear Dumbledore has invited it into our midst. I must confess to being grateful that you have decided not to hate Harry, Severus. If the boy's to have any hope of a somewhat normal scholastic career, he's going to need the both of us on his side."

"I have begun to come to that conclusion." Severus agreed with a sigh. "I had built him up in my mind to be James reborn. Imagine my surprise when the only traces of the man is the boy's hair, of all things."

"An understandable mistake, Severus, considering the enmity between you and the Marauders. Speaking of which ... have you had any luck tracking down Remus?" Minerva asked.

"Not yet. The wolf's buried himself in some god-forsaken corner of the planet, apparently." Severus said. "I've used the delay to good effect, and we've got enough potion to last quite some time. IF the man can be found."

Almost as if to taunt him, a tired-looking tawny owl swooped into the room, bearing an envelope. It landed on the arm of Severus' chair. Severus sneered at it. "Damn it. He would be found tonight." He snatched the letter from the owl, and dismissed it before cramming the letter in a pocket.

"Not going to read it?"

"Not at the moment." Severus told her. "It can wait for morning."

Minerva looked at him as if to say 'when you're hopefully in a better temper', a look Severus ignored. "I plan on taking him to the Hollow Saturday." He made a face. "Most of the pilgrims will be long gone by then, and he can visit in relative peace."

Minerva nodded. "It's well beyond time he was allowed to visit their graves." She agreed. "And as he's finally completely closed the gaps in his education between the Muggle world and ours, I'll be starting to tell him about the Potters next week. Do you know yet if the Manor is habitable?"

"Unfortunately, no. Apparently, after the attack, the manor shut itself down. I couldn't even find it, despite knowing approximately where it stands." Severus was less than pleased about that.

Minerva sighed. "I was afraid of that. The oldest families' homes have a huge number of defensive measures surrounding them. I imagine only Harry will be able to get the place to reappear at this point, as he's the heir and sole surviving member ... but we might be able to find out about the elves, at the least. Talk to the ones in the kitchens. They will be able to find out, through their network."

Severus nodded. The elves had been a bit further down on his list than the manor itself, so he hadn't yet approached the Hogwarts elves to find out if they could discover whether the Potter elves had survived. After a few more moments, he finished his tea and got to his feet. "I have patrols." He said. "I'll see you at breakfast." and with a last nod, he headed out.

Thankfully for Severus' peace of mind, Remus' letter had been remarkably short and to the point.

Severus

Harry was with the Dursleys? Has Dumbledore gone mad? Lily's sister was at best a most unpleasant woman, and I can only imagine the hardships Harry has suffered. Regarding your request that I return to England post haste, consider it mostly granted. I must give notice at my current job, so I will be there as soon as I can be. Regarding the Potter elves, there were four. Missy, Toker, Jinks and Mallie. I fear that Missy and Toker have probably passed on by now, as they were both quite elderly in the first place, and the stress of losing so much of their Bonded family would not have done them any favors, but Jinks and Mallie ought to still be alive.

Remus

Severus sighed. At least he had a bit more time before the wolf would be here, which was a small mercy.

That evening, when Harry joined him for his usual study time, Snape told him they'd be going somewhere the next day, if he would like to. The phrasing struck Harry as a bit odd. "Where would we be going?" He wanted to know.

"Godric's Hollow. Your parents are buried there." Snape told him.

Oh. That answered that. "I ... I think I'd like to go, sir." He finally said.

Snape nodded, then, thankfully, changed the subject to homework, much to Harry's relief.

They left the next day shortly after breakfast, and Harry (much to his dismay) got his first exposure to side apparation. It sucked. Big time. He came remarkably close to hurling all over Snape's shoes. Once he could concentrate on something other than his rebelling stomach, he glanced around.

The street they were on seemed to be ... very quiet. Almost as if no one lived here, anymore. Maybe they didn't, considering what had happened here. He was somewhat disconcerted when he spotted the statue.

"Is that ... ?" Harry asked.

"It is." After a couple months around the man, Harry was able to pick up on the amused disgust.

"A statue. What in the hell were people thinking? I mean, really?" Harry glared at the thing, shaking his head.

Snape lead the way to the cemetery, and then to a particular marker with an unerring ease that told Harry he'd been here before. But then, his mom had apparently been Snape's friend, so it wasn't all that surprising.

Harry honestly didn't know how he felt, looking at the stone. This was his parents, but at the same time ... he had no memory of them, at least he didn't think he did. It was sort of hard to grieve something you'd never actually known. At the same time, there was a knot in the back of his throat and his eyes were burning like he wanted to cry, but couldn't. Unaware that Snape had stepped back to give him privacy, he reached out and touched the stone.

"I wish you hadn't died.." He said quietly. "It would have been nice ... but things are better now, and I think they're going to stay that way. As for the idiot that put you here ... " He glowered. "Hagrid says he probably really isn't dead. Well, if he comes back around ... I'll get even with him if it's the last thing I do."

After a few moments, he gave himself a bit of a shake and rubbed at his face, surprised to find he'd been crying without realizing it. Snape's hand gripped his shoulder, startling him as he'd more or less forgotten the man was there. Thankfully for Harry's rather tattered control and self-esteem, Snape didn't actually look at him or say a word.

For his own part, Snape was just grateful the boy was distracted enough to not be paying him much mind. Coming here was always painful for him. Now even more than before. He'd failed her twice now. He meant to never fail her again, no matter the cost.

The rest of Saturday had been fairly somber, and passed almost silently between Severus and Harry, as they moved about the lab and Severus' office. After Harry left for his dorm, Severus finally decided to see if any of the Potter elves were alive. He headed for the kitchens.

It took less than five minutes to discover that indeed, two of the Potter elves were alive, though it was not the two youngest. Evidently, one of the more elderly elves was still alive ... and one of the younger ones had been assigned to cook and clean at the Hollow, and been killed in the attack. Severus passed the information on to Minerva, as she'd be dealing with that end of things. Severus spent the rest of the morning considering what to teach Harry now that he had a firm grasp of the basics that every wizarding child grew up knowing, and had finally begun to develop good study habits.

Shortly after lunch, though, these ruminations were interrupted by a knock on his door. Severus eyed the door with great distaste. His popularity among his peers was such that it could only be one of two people at the door, and considering that Minerva was teaching Harry today, he highly doubted it was her. He was deeply tempted to ignore the knock, but unfortunately, he rather strongly suspected that if he did, Dumbledore would use his status as Headmaster to force his way in.

He stalked to the door and opened it. "What do you want?" He snarled.

Dumbledore, to Severus' surprise, was not twinkling, for once. He held a mass of silvery gray material in his hands. An invisibility cloak. "This belonged to James. He left it with me shortly before they went into hiding, as it is a valuable family heirloom that he didn't want to risk being destroyed or lost. I had thought to give it to Harry for Christmas originally, but now I shall leave the when and how to you." Dumbledore told him.

Severus was glaring at the cloak fit to incinerate it. He'd always wondered how James and his cronies got around the school. His question was, clearly, finally answered. "And you did not hand it over before now, why?" He growled.

"I felt it would be best to give you a chance to calm down a bit first." Dumbledore admitted, a pained smile ghosting across his face. "To lessen my chances of being hexed."

Severus had to admit that Dumbledore had a point. He would have been sorely tempted to hex the man. Still was, but his temper was not as close to the surface as it had been. And he somewhat belatedly admitted to himself that Dumbledore had been doing everything in his power to calm things between them ... this was actually the first time they'd spoken since Severus had stormed out of Dumbledore's office, and Dumbledore had kept his word and stayed clear of Harry. Reluctantly, he took the cloak.

"I will see that he gets it." He said, then firmly closed the door. He might not be as angry as he had been, but he was still angry, and unwilling to deal with the man just yet.

Severus glared at the cloak for a while before putting it in his quarters. Valuable family heirloom indeed! Oh, he'd give it to Harry, he couldn't not ... he was just grateful that Harry showed zero inclination towards pranks in any form. Sneaking out at night and exploring the castle though, was more or less a rite of passage, and Severus wouldn't deny the boy that (or the means to do so without getting into trouble). Christmas was soon enough.

HPHPHP

"Now, Harry, we've run through the basics that you need to know to succeed here in school, but there are a number of things you need to know that have nothing to do with school, and everything to do with your family." McGonagall told Harry once they'd settled in her office for the day's lesson.

"My family?" Harry echoed, unable to keep the eager yearning out of his voice.

"Yes. The Potters are a very, very old family, Harry. One of the oldest, in fact. They predate the Founders by several centuries, as a matter of fact." McGonagall told him.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Yes. Now, in our world, families of such age carry a great deal of power, both politically, socially, and in business. I am not, of course, aware of all the details, but the Potters have had a seat on the Wizengamot almost from its inception, and there will come a time when you will be expected to take your place there ... though that will not be for many years yet!" She said with a little laugh at the disgusted and horrified look on Harry's face. "You also have a home." Ok, so calling the Manor a home was really stretching it, but it would be a little bit before Harry found that out. "It's in Inverness ... I've actually been there a few times in the past, when your grandparents were alive, for parties. I intend to take you there later today, but before I do, there's something we need to discuss."

Harry was looking a tad gobsmacked. He had his own home. He wondered what it was like, but then gave himself a shake and brought his attention back to McGonagall. "What's that?"

"House elves. They are the magical world's servants." McGonagall said. "The details of the hows and whys of it have long been lost to the mists of time, but at some point in the distant past, house elves bound themselves in eternal servitude to wizardkind."

Harry made a horrified face.

"Yes, it does sound unpleasant, doesn't it?" McGonagall said. "And I will admit that more than one family treats their elves rather badly, but not all by any means. They are clever creatures, and quite powerful in their own way. Treated with kindness and understanding, they are completely, incorruptibly loyal. Treated badly, they find ways to rebel, despite the strictures of their servitude."

"What strictures?" Harry wanted to know.

"A house elf cannot disobey a direct order from their master, nor can they tell his secrets." McGonagall said. "They can only be freed ... which generally utterly devastates them ... if their master gives them clothing. The Potter elves are some of the most well cared for that I know of, second only to Hogwarts' elves, probably. I know your father considered one of the house elves to be a friend and something of a partner in crime for his adventures around the Manor."

"If I have someplace to live, and ... well, people ... to help deal with stuff there, why wasn't I allowed to grow up there?" Harry wanted to know.

"Part of the reason was that, at the time your parents went into hiding, the Manor was undergoing repairs. Death Eaters ... followers of you-know-who, had managed to get into the manor during a party, destroyed much of the first floor, and succeeded in killing some half-dozen people, including your grandparents. The damage was pretty extensive, so your parents had to use Godric's Hollow. When your father was killed, the Manor shut itself down and closed up tight. At that point, only you could have opened the place back up, but you were too young ... you couldn't say more than a few words, even if we had known what needed to be done. And Albus thought it would be better for you to grow up away from the magical world anyway, away from the pressure of being the 'boy who lived'. Unfortunately, that backfired rather spectacularly."

"That's one way of putting it." Harry said with a sigh. "So ... what do we do from here?"

"Well, if we intend to visit the Manor, you're going to have to call your elves, as they're the only ones who know precisely what to do to reopen the Manor. Their names are Toker and Mallie."

"So I just say their names?" Harry confirmed.

"Yes."

"Ok." Privately, Harry thought this was more than a bit weird, but there you were. "Toker! Mallie!"

And half a second later, there were two quiet pops, and two of the oddest creatures ever appeared. One was clearly old, with more wrinkles than the Sharpei puppy Harry had seen once, dressed in what looked like an immaculately clean white ... pillowcase ... ? with a crest (he presumed it was the Potter crest) on the chest. The other elf was younger, unwrinkled and clearly more energetic (given it was bouncing on the balls of its feet in unrestrained glee), and dressed identically.

About half a second after he'd finished cataloguing their appearance, the younger one simply couldn't control itself any longer and flung itself at Harry, clinging to him with a near-death grip. "Mallie is so excited! Mallie is so happy to see Master Harry sir! He has grown so big! Mallie is being missing her Master Harry!"

Toker, though more sedate, seemed no less glad. Unless Harry was very much mistaken, Toker was trying his utmost not to cry when he joined Mallie in hugging Harry. "Toker is very glad to being seeing you, Master Harry. Toker was being afraid he might never!"

Harry patted them both on the back. It was ... weird, but as strange as this was, it felt ... right, somehow. "I'm glad to see the two of you too." He told them. "I kind of need your help." That got both of them giving him big-eyed looks. "I want to open up the Manor again, but I don't know how. Or if it's even in livable shape. McGonagall said the first floor got pretty badly damaged."

"Toker and Mallie is fixing everything, Master!" Toker told him, then the long, thin ears drooped. "But we is having to let some things go, Master. There is only being two of us, and we's could not keep everything the way it should." The old elf was clearly distressed by that. "But we is being able to tell you how to open the Manor again. We is being able to take you there!"

"It's ok, Toker. I don't blame you. I'm sure you did your best." Harry told them. He looked over at McGonagall. "Can you take the both of us?"

The two elves nodded emphatically. "Yous is just taking our hands, Master."

Clearly, McGonagall knew this, as she was already moving to take Toker's hand. Harry took Mallie's hand, and then the world squeezed itself out of shape. It was not, Harry thought, the most comfortable way to travel. He very nearly ended up tossing his cookies.

Thanks to that, it took him a minute to take in their surroundings, and when he did, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. There was a mountain looming to the east, and stretch of water just visible to the west. And, between the two, crouched on a stony hilltop, was something as far from a 'manor' as Harry figured it was possible to get.

Potter Manor was nothing of the sort. It was a freaking fortress. Surrounded by a tall, thick stone wall (complete with towers). Actually, as Harry peered closer, he decided there were two walls, as there seemed to be two sets of towers between them and the 'castle' proper. The castle itself was maybe a quarter the size of Hogwarts, but the whole thing had clearly been built to withstand the worst siege imaginable.

"Holy mother of ... " He squeaked. "You call that a Manor?" He whirled on McGonagall, one finger pointing at the castle.

"Much of it has not been used for a very long time, Harry, but yes, it is called a Manor." McGonagall told him, her lips twitching at his astonishment.

"Someone, somewhere, had a bit of a problem with their definitions." Harry groused, then looked at the two elves. "No wonder you two couldn't keep the whole place up! I don't think it'd be possible for a dozen elves!" Then, with a deep breath, he tried to regain some of his composure. "Ok, what do I do?"

Toker pointed to a bare patch of stone off to Harry's right. "Yous is going over there, Master. There is being a carving. You is putting yous hand over the carving. Yous is then saying you's name. The wards is doing the rest."

Harry nodded and walked over to the stone. Carving indeed. The center of the stone bore a concentration of what looked like runes. Incredibly, despite the stone being subjected to time and weather, the runes seemed to be as clear and sharp as the day they'd been carved.

It was just as well he had to get down on one knee to do it, as the moment he said his name, a wave of immense power washed over him, and probably would have knocked him off his feet if he'd been standing. There was a momentary sense of great weight and strength, and then a warm rush of welcome and joy before it receeded, leaving him a bit gobsmacked. Again. Seconds later, there was a visible shimmer in the air.

"The wards is opening, Master! Yous can be going to the gates, now." Toker told him. The four of them walked to the massive gates, which opened without anyone touching them, at least as far as Harry knew.

There were, indeed, two sets of towers. The area between them was an overgrown, weed-choked mess, clearly one of the things that had to be 'let go' in the interest of keeping as much of the inside up to snuff as possible. The second 'yard', though much smaller, was as bad.

Harry was a bit surprised when the front door proper didn't open without being touched, as the two gates had. He put his hand on the thick, steel-reinforced wood ... and got another wave of warm, joyous welcome before the door 'clicked' and swung open.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. While the exterior made the place look like a fortress, the interior had clearly been refitted to modern requirements at some point in the past, at least the main floor. They were standing in a fair-sized room that was fairly plain, done in warm browns and creams with a couch and several chairs around a small fireplace as the central focus. There were two doors on the of the walls, one on the right, one on the left.

"We is going this way, Master. The West wing is being where the family stayed."

And indeed that 'wing' (more like that half of the first floor) had a kitchen, dining room, a lounge/parlor, an office, a small library, several loos, and a half dozen rooms. The kitchen had the only access to the other half of the first floor (other than the one in the foyer), where the ballroom, a huge dining room and other rooms for parties were. That half of the first floor and all but one room on the second, third, and fourth floors, had been 'let go' by the elves. The only exception was the library (the small one on the first floor evidently held only the books most used by the family at any given time). The library on the second floor was huge, every bit as big as Hogwarts'. Harry's eyes went wide.

"Oh man. Remind me to never invite Hermione over here. I'd never get her out of here!" He told McGonagall.

McGonagall smiled. "Very true, Mr. Potter. Very true."

Harry didn't really notice the portraits at first, until one finally spoke up.

"I say! It's about time there were people in this old place again. It's gotten very dull these last few years!"

Harry blinked and turned, peering at the portrait. It was of a dark-haired man that pretty much had to be a Potter, given where they were. "Yessir. I'll be living here from now on, I think."

The man peered at him. "You'd be James' boy, then?" He asked.

"Yessir." Harry said.

The man smiled. "Nigel Potter." He introduced himself. "Your great-grandfather. Charlus, that's your grandfather, is around here somewhere, asleep. Now there's people here again, he'll wake. So will the others."

A sudden, painful hope stirred in Harry's chest. "Sir ... I ... did my parents ... "

"Ever sit for a portrait?" Nigel finished the question. "Yes, their wedding portrait, but it's not here in the Manor. I have no idea where it is."

McGonagall cocked her head slightly. "If it is not here, it is most likely in the vaults, then, as the next safest place."

"Probably." Nigel admitted. "We can but hope."

Harry and McGonagall spent the day exploring. More and more of the portraits woke up and spoke to him. Harry found himself highly amused by the preponderance of red-haired wives. Oh, there were a few blondes and brunettes, but the majority were redheads. The vast majority of the portraits (at least thus far) were quite congenial, more than willing to fill Harry in on bits and pieces of a family history he'd never known as they explored. By far the most amusing was Charlus, his grandfather. But then, he was the one with the most tales about James.

Eventually, evening fell and it was time to return to Hogwarts. Harry said goodbye to Toker and Mallie, and promised to return whenever he could during the school year.

He sighed a bit when he got back to his dorm. Hogwarts was wonderful, and for the last few months Harry had been more than happy to call it home, but now, somehow, it just didn't feel right. Despite only having been there for a day, the Manor felt far more like home than Hogwarts did.

The atmosphere in the castle in the days before the first Quidditch game (Gryffindor versus Slytherin, no less) was electric. With all four teams on new and improved brooms, and with Harry as the 'secret' (which was known by everyone about three hours after he got on the team), the first match was even more highly anticipated than usual.

Severus bore heavily on his team to play fair, but did not suffer any delusions about them actually doing so. Flint, the Captain, had picked his team with dirty play in mind. No girls, and all the boys outweighed most of their opponents by a good bit. They were essentially flying bricks, especially the Beaters. The Gryffindor team, on the other hand, Severus had to admit was built more on talent. He had no love of the game himself, had never played it, but he'd seen much of the Gryffindor team in action last year, and if Harry lived up to the potential Severus had seen in the flying lesson, Slytherin's chances of getting the Quidditch cup were doomed. And from the way Flint had been driving his team, he seemed to be aware that they were in trouble.

Both Severus and Minerva had been keeping a careful eye on Quirrell. Severus did not like the fact that Harry seemed to consistently suffer headaches only in that class. It made him think that perhaps someone was attempting (poorly) legilimency on Harry. And given that no first year was capable of that art, it left him with Quirrell ... but Harry had mentioned that Quirrell seldom looked right at him. It just didn't add up.

On top of that, he'd caught Quirrell loitering around near the third floor, when he had no need to be there. Even Severus' less-than-veiled threats did not seem to deter the man. Minerva had also spotted him near the third floor once or twice during her rounds. Severus was just glad that the first line of defense was so ... intimidating. Cerberus hounds were not creatures to be trifled with. They were fanatical guard animals, and immune to magic of any kind (insofar as anyone had been able to discover, anyway). As far as Severus knew, the only way to conquer one was to use a physical attack ... which was virtually guaranteed to kill the one attempting it, since the animal had three sets of very large teeth to work with. There were, of course, other defenses, but the first one seemed to be stopping Quirrell in his tracks, for which Severus was very grateful.

The morning of the game dawned bright and clear, and Severus made a point of ensuring he was seated right next to Quirrell. He'd been sticking as close to the man as he dared since taking up Harry's guardianship, putting as much pressure as he could on the man to either scare him off or get him to confess. Quirrell, in his turn, had been trying to evade him, but Severus knew the castle better, and had many years of knowing how to lurk about in shadows on his side, so Quirrell's attempts had been less than successful.

"Quirrell." Severus sneered as he took his seat. He was surprised at the faint flash of ... something ... that flitted across Quirrell's face. Unfortunately, whatever it was had been and gone so fast Severus hadn't quite caught it.

"P-p-p-profes-ssor S-s-s-snape." Quirrel greeted, looking nearly as terrified as a first-year Hufflepuff.

Snape sneered at him, but when the teams were announced, he turned his attention to the field.

HPHPHP

Harry was sure he'd never been so nervous in his life, as the Gryffindor team took to the pitch. He grinned widely when he saw the bedsheet banner that Ron and Hermione had made. Then he got a good look at the Slytherin team and swallowed hard. The smallest of them was practically twice his size!

Flint and Wood were trying to glare each other to death as they shook hands before mounting up. Then again, the rest of the Slytherin team was doing much the same.

Then the balls were released and the whistle blown. Harry lost no time in getting as high as he could as fast as he could, trying to get clear of the main battle. For battle it quickly became. The Slytherins were playing for blood, ganging up on whichever unfortunate Gryffindor had the quaffle in twos and threes, doing everything short of breaking bones and brooms to get the quaffle in their own hands.

By the time five minutes had passed, there'd been as many fouls. Fred and George were having an all-out Beaters battle with the Slytherin Beaters, smashing the unpredictable balls about the pitch like some very demented form of tennis match as all four boys tried to take out the other side's players. The only reason Harry hadn't had a bludger aimed at himself was because their Seeker was keeping so close to Harry that Harry could practically smell the boy's breakfast on his breath, and neither side wanted to knock out or cripple their own Seeker in an attempt to nail the other team's.

Harry did his best to ignore the other Seeker and keep a sharp eye out for the Snitch. He thought he saw it once or twice, but it was there and gone again so fast he couldn't really get a fix on it. Finally, though, Harry caught sight of it. Unfortunately, with the Slytherin Seeker this close, there was a good chance the boy would manage to catch the thing before Harry did. He was just lucky the boy didn't seem to see the Snitch himself. So Harry did the only thing he could think of. He fixated on a point well to one side of the Snitch's actual position and took off like a bat out of hell. Of course, the other boy took off following.

But the other boy was no match whatever for Harry in the air. Once Harry was sure the boy was committed to a straight-line race, Harry banked hard to the left and flattened himself to the broom handle, urging every bit of speed out of the broom that he could. The Slytherin Seeker, caught completely flatfooted and on the outside of Harry's turn, took several seconds to get turned around and following him. It was several seconds far too many.

For Harry, the world seemed to cease to exist ... until the cool metal of the Snitch touched his fingers. As soon as he had a good grip on it, the sights and sounds of the world around him returned in an almost painful rush. Half a second after that, Lee Jordan shrieked that he had the snitch, and the Gryffindors went nuts, with the team not far behind them.

HPHPHP

Harry, Severus reflected with resigned amusement, was an even better flier than his stunt during the first flying lesson indicated he might be. He gave the impression of not having a broom under him at all as he swooped around the field in an attempt to evade the Slytherin Seeker and the other players.

But as the game went on, Severus found himself getting more and more distracted from the action on the pitch. Beside him, Quirrell seemed to get more and more tense, frustrated, and dare he say it, angry. Oh, it was not something so obvious as a facial expression, but it was there in the man's body language. But what made Severus' blood go cold was that, right about the time Harry caught the snitch and was surrounded by his jubilant teammates, he felt the faintest prickle of sensation ... in his left forearm. He had not felt anything from the Mark since the day Voldemort got blasted to bits (however that had actually happened). It took all his skill not to turn an enraged look at Quirrell. There was, so far as he could tell, only one real reason for Quirrell to be so angry right here and now, and for his Mark to be prickling at the same time. Harry. It stood to reason that Voldemort wanted the boy dead, and it was making an awful kind of sense, now, why Quirrell was after the stone. But there was a problem. He had no proof. Certainly, there was circumstantial evidence in quantity, but there was nothing concrete that tied Quirrell to Voldemort. And it would take hauling Voldemort himself before Dumbledore before the man believed that Quirrell was working for him. Severus knew it was more than slightly hypocritical to be angry at Dumbledore for a belief that he himself had benefited from, but it irked him that Dumbledore gave so many people so many chances, and point-blank refused to see that some people were simply irredeemable. There were days when Severus thought Dumbledore hoped to redeem Voldemort himself, a thought that never failed to make him snort in disgust.

He was going to have to keep an even closer eye than the thought on Quirrell. He'd originally thought the man was trying for the stone for his own gain ... there were not many that would not be tempted. Even he himself was tempted, though more by the thought of experimenting with the stone and the elixir than drinking the stuff or making himself insanely rich by turning things to gold. He had no desire whatever to live forever, and honestly thought that anyone who wanted to live forever was more than a bit insane. As for the gold ... he was a Potion Master. The youngest in Britain in centuries. Normally, one did not become a Potion Master until one was about the age Severus was now, but he had managed to attain that title just two years out of Hogwarts. While teaching cut into the amount of time he had to invent, refine, and brew, he still had more than enough time to earn nearly double his teacher's salary by supplying St. Mungo's and individual customers with a variety of the more difficult-to-brew potions, especially wolfsbane. Severus was one of only three people in the country who could brew that particular potion, and the only one willing to undertake making it on request. As Severus lived rather Spartanly, a habit developed in his youth when money was a scarce, hard-won commodity, his vault at Gringotts was more than generously supplied with gold at this point.

Severus tailed Quirrell all the way to the other man's office as they left the stands, then glowered at the closed door for a while before turning and heading for his own office to finish grading papers. He'd deal with Quirrell later, Dumbledore be damned.

Life, Harry decided, just didn't get much better than this. He never had to see the Dursleys again, he had friends, a mystery to solve ... and best yet, he had Professor Snape. And while a good portion of the school would accuse him of being mad as a hatter for being happy about that last one, Harry didn't really care.

Snape was strict, and had high standards, and ... well, a bunch of things that a lot of people would find off-putting, like his tendency to snark and how intimidating he could be without half trying, and the fact he didn't seem to have an emotional state other than 'irritated'. But over the last three and a half months (it being mid-December), Harry had got to know the man during their weekend and weekday evening lessons. He'd learned to see under the tightly-controlled expressions a bit now, and as for the rest ... he found the constancy of Snape's quirks and personality reassuring. After dealing with the unpredictability of the Dursleys (well, beyond the knowledge that he would be viciously belittled and at some point in pain), the predictability of Snape's responses to things was immensely reassuring.

And having an adult that not only listened to him, but believed him ... that was a treasure beyond price. Harry hadn't said much more about his time with the Dursley's than he had the day Snape asked him to so they could get him away from the Dursleys, but sometimes something slipped out, and Snape never once called him a liar or anything like that. Actually, the look Snape got on his face whenever the Dursleys came up made Harry almost sorry for the Dursleys, if Snape ever went after them. Almost.

McGonagall was only a step or two behind Snape. Sometimes, when Harry was feeling especially sappy, he imagined that this was something like what a family was supposed to be, even if he could never quite think of Snape and McGonagall as his 'parents', even separately. Don't get him started on them being together. That one was nightmare inducing!

Which brought him to the only real fly in the ointment. Christmas was coming, and he wanted to get them (and Hagrid, Ron, the twins, and Hermione) something ... but he didn't have a clue as to what. It wasn't like he had any experience at all with Christmas shopping in the first place, was it?

Ron, the twins, and Hermione had been easy enough, at least, once he'd discovered owl-orders. He'd gotten Ron a Chudley Cannons hat, the twins some pranking supplies, and Hermione a book on advanced Transfiguration, as she was deeply fascinated with that particular subject, and much to Harry's amusement, had taken to pestering McGonagall for more information on a regular basis. McGonagall had seemed to be quite pleased to have someone so interested in her subject, and had been more than willing to include Hermione in the extra tutoring lessons Harry got. Hagrid had been a bit tougher, but Harry had finally settled on a set of plates (actually round platters, but hey, it worked) and oversized mugs that were Hagrid-sized teacups, since he'd seen that Hagrid's collection was rather mismatched.

But what on earth was he to get for Snape and McGonagall? He honestly hadn't a clue, except for that he wanted to avoid getting Snape potions-related things. That one was way too obvious, and probably something he saw a lot of. He'd gone through about half the catalogues available to no avail at this point, and was starting to get frustrated. With a sigh, he grabbed another catalogue and started to flip through it. Finally, on the second to last page, he spotted it. It couldn't be more perfect if he'd tried. With a grin, Harry immediately filled out an order and rolled it up, then started for the Owlery.

As he headed up there, he contemplated the mystery he, Hermione, and Ron were trying to unravel. What had that small package from vault 713 been? Who was after it, and why? Sometimes, Harry debated asking Snape about it, but it was fun trying to work it out on their own, even if trying to find Flamel was driving both him and Hermione bonkers. Especially when they both realized they'd heard or seen the name before. The question remained as to where and when. Ron was a bit less invested in the whole thing, but then again, he wasn't all that interested in extra studying.

Hedwig swooped down to him the moment he entered the owlery, and he spent a few minutes just petting her, much to her evident pleasure. Eventually, he gave her the order envelope. "Take this for me, girl? I finally figured out what to get McGonagall and Snape for Christmas."

She hooted her agreement and took off through one of the several arches in the owlery. Harry leaned against the ledge and watched her until she blended into some clouds near the horizon, and then headed back down to the common room.

HPHPHP

Severus eyed the letter he'd received that morning with a jaundiced look. Remus had finally fulfilled his working contract ... and would be arriving in two weeks, just days after Christmas. He'd be here sooner if it wasn't for the fact the full moon was next week, and he needed to be somewhere secure at least a day before the full moon. This wouldn't have been a problem for someone with sufficient funds, as you could purchase an international portkey from Remus' current location to England, but the wolf didn't have enough money for that, and would have to be taking the trip in shorter (and cheaper) hops. And even if Severus had been of a mind to fund the wolf's trip home, the wolf would not have permitted it. As much as Severus disliked (and felt greatly ill at ease with) the wolf, he had to admit the man was determined to make his own way and accept charity from none.

The upcoming holidays presented another challenge ... what to do with Harry. They could both stay here, which was his first preference, or they could go to the Manor for the holiday. Either way, if they stayed here, Severus fully intended to take full advantage of the dearth of students and increased free time to get to know Harry in a more relaxed setting than they'd had thus far, as they'd both been concentrating on his scholastic efforts for the most part. Well, he'd be seeing Harry in the morning, and that would be soon enough to enquire as to the boy's preference.

At least finding a gift for the boy had been simple enough. It generally was, at that age. Especially when the boy in question was quidditch-mad. A few tomes about the various teams, and one on tactics and moves had been an obvious choice. Given that, at some point in the next few weeks, the potion that Harry had been taking would finally be finished, and the boy would start to gain some height to go along with the badly-needed increase in weight that Harry had experienced over the last few months, new clothing with growth charms on them had been the next logical present, as Severus would be greatly surprised if Harry's current clothing fit him by the end of January.

His usual present for Minerva was already purchased, of course, as was the one for Filius. He and Filius were not nearly so close as he and Minerva, but Filius was one of those people that it was virtually impossible to get to hate you, unless you tried to kill him ... in which case, you deserved the complete and total humiliation you would get. There were days when Severus amused himself with contemplating who was the more frightening dueler ... Filius or Dumbledore. Oh, to be sure, Dumbledore had more sheer power, but Filius made up in sheer inventiveness what he lacked in power, compared to the Headmaster, and was considerably younger. At any rate, Severus had long since ceased attempting to get Filius to steer clear of him, and accepted the inevitability of the man's friendliness. Fortunately, Filius did not attempt to force the issue into actual friendship. Hagrid, of course, got his usual assortment of potions useful in healing injured wildlife.

Severus had debated for quite a while as to whether or not to get a gift for the Headmaster this year. As strained as their relationship had become, it was definitely a delicate issue. In the end, Severus had decided to go ahead and get something, as Dumbledore did seem to have taken Severus' warnings to heart.

HPHPHP

Harry practically bounced into Snape's office the next morning after breakfast, earning himself a faint, amused smile from the man. "Hello Professor!"

"You're in quite a good mood today, Harry. Getting into the Christmas spirit, I take it?" Snape asked.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I guess I am. First time I really get to take part in it, you know? Makes it a lot more fun."

And comments like that made Snape wonder if the wolf wouldn't be amenable to being introduced to the Dursleys ... during a full moon. Without the benefit of wolfsbane. And at the same time, made him vow to never tell the man any of it. Werewolves were notoriously protective of their 'pack' ... and Harry was the sole remaining member that Remus would want to lay claim to. His reaction to finding out about Harry's life would not be pleasant.

"We'll not be doing much actual work today, Harry." Snape told him. "As you may remember, it's nearing the time when the supplement potion should be able to be discontinued, so we've a trip to the infirmary to make. After that, we've a few things to talk about."

Harry nodded. "Ok. It's nothing serious, though, is it?"

"No, not at all." Snape said, then got to his feet from behind his desk. "Shall we?"

The two of them headed for the infirmary, which, much to Harry's relief, proved to be empty except for Madame Pomphrey.

"Hello, boys." She said.

Harry couldn't restrain a snicker at Snape being called a boy ... and the snicker turned into a full-on laugh when he spotted Snape's expression, which somehow conveyed irritation, exasperation and amusement all at the same time without, it seemed, moving so much as a muscle.

"Hop up, Harry, and we'll have a look at you." Pomphrey said, patting the nearest bed.

Harry obeyed, and Pomphrey ran her wand up and down him several times, and then smiled. "Well! You've responded to the supplement better than I thought. I think we can actually stop it now. You're pretty much caught up with your current height weight-wise as well, which is good. You'll probably start growing in the next week or two, as your body starts kicking everything back into action. Don't be surprised if you start rivaling young Mister Weasley in appetite over the next month or so."

Harry made a bit of a face. "And here I was thinking I'd get to stop thinking with my stomach." He complained.

"Harry, you're a growing boy. Thinking with your stomach is a requirement. I'll start worrying when you stop thinking with your stomach." Pomphrey told him. "Now, if you remember, I told you there were a few bones that had been broken and hadn't set right, yes?"

"Yeah, I remember. And you wanted to wait for Christmas break to deal with them, but didn't say much more than that."

Pomphrey sighed. "The procedure is not the most pleasant to deal with, Harry. I'd give you a potion to make you sleep and keep you that way for several hours. I'd then have to rebreak the bones and set them the way they should have been in the first place. You'd be here overnight for sure, possibly two nights."

Harry made another face and then looked over at Snape for a moment. "Well, the Professor said he wanted to talk to me about some stuff after this, but if it's going to be that ugly, I'd rather get it over with tonight, so I'm all healed up by Christmas for sure."

"That's fine, Harry." Pomphrey told him.

After that, Snape and Harry headed out, and back to the dungeons and Snape's office. Once there, Snape rested a hip on his desk rather than sit down behind it. "There are two things. One, we need to decide where you will be spending the holiday. You can either stay here, or go to Potter Manor. But before you make that decision, you need to know something else. One of your father's old friends is coming here. He'll be here on the twenty-seventh."

"A friend of my dad's? Who?" Harry wanted to know.

"Remus Lupin. He was quite close to your father, actually." Snape growled. "When your parents were killed, no one but Dumbledore, and apparently McGonagall knew where you'd been placed, and neither of them were telling." Aside from that less-than-happy comment, all those years ago that Snape still wished he'd listened to. "Denied the ability to watch over you, there was nothing to hold him here, and he left."

Harry eyed Snape quietly. He'd gotten to know the man well enough by now to ... hear what wasn't being said. There'd always been a tinge of bitterness in Snape's voice whenever James Potter had come up, and it had not escaped Harry's notice that Snape had left telling Harry about his Potter heritage to McGonagall. Snape sounded nearly as displeased to be discussing Lupin, and it was making Harry wonder what the heck had happened to piss Snape off so badly.

"Professor ... I ... can I ask a question?" Harry wanted to know.

"Of course." Snape said.

"Why do you always sound so grumpy whenever my father comes up in discussions?"

Well damn, Snape thought. The boy would pick up on that, wouldn't he. Ah well. "Your father and I did not get along, Harry. We were, in essence, the 'Harry and Draco' of our generation." Which was putting the mess in a far more positive light than it deserved. Harry and Malfoy at least had equal numbers on their sides ... and Harry didn't go out of his way to make Draco's life a living hell.

Harry grimaced. "I get the picture." He said. "And Lupin was a friend of his ... " Harry was beginning to draw parallels he didn't like.

Snape could see the growing distaste on Harry's face. You owe me for this, James Potter. "Do not judge them on their antics as children, Harry. Nor on the word of one man. James eventually grew up, else Lily would never have given him the time of day. And Gryffindor and Slytherin have always had a bitter rivalry." Snape told him.

Fair enough, Harry thought, though he was still inclined to think his father and his friend had been bullies. "All right. I'll give him a chance. So he'll be here a couple days after Christmas?"

"Yes." Snape confirmed.

It would be nice to spend the holiday at the Manor ... but it'd be, what, just him and the elves? Snape too, probably. And while Harry didn't mind the thought of spending time with the man, just the two of them in that big place over the holidays did not sound all that fun. "Maybe I should stay here, then."

Snape nodded. "Very well. You have the option of remaining in Gryffindor Tower with whatever Gryffindors remain for the holidays, or you may join me, in my quarters."

Harry did a double take. He'd never quite expected that one. Oh, he knew Snape was his guardian and suchlike, but there was a difference between them moving to the Manor come summer and Snape inviting Harry to spend Christmas in his quarters here at school. At least there was in his mind, anyway.

"I think I'd like that." He said finally. "Staying with you, I mean."

Snape was a bit surprised himself. He'd fully expected the boy to want to stay in the Tower with his housemates. "Very well. We'll pack a few of your things once you've recovered from Madame Pomphrey's treatment." He was just glad that Harry seemed to think Lupin was James' only friend. Eventually, Harry needed to be told, but telling an eleven year old that one of his father's best friends had betrayed him to his death wasn't something Snape was willing to do, even if he had been capable of saying Black's name without snarling in rage.

HPHPHP

The next twenty-four hours were, truly, best forgotten altogether. Pomphrey had warned Harry, but words didn't really do the matter justice. Despite the sleeping potion, he woke aching all over, and the aching didn't fade until shortly before dinner on Sunday. He actually ended up spending a second night in the Infirmary, mostly because he really didn't want to try to move some of his clothes and such when he had only just recovered.

With it being just over a week before the holidays, most of the classes were rather relaxed, and the atmosphere of the school was picking up. Monday evening, after classes, Harry packed up some clothes and pyjamas and put them in his bookbag to carry to the dungeons. Snape met him at his office, and the pair of them headed deeper into the dungeons. Finally, they came to a narrow, dead-end corridor that was guarded by a suit of armor. Snape marched right past it and to the end of the corridor, then tapped his wand in a couple of places, almost like he was trying to get into Diagon Alley. This time, though, instead of bricks sliding out of the way, the stone seemed to waver for a second, and then a door appeared. Snape murmured something under his breath, tapping the door again, and then looked over his shoulder at Harry. "The password is asphodel." He told Harry. The moment he said the word, the door popped open an inch, and Snape seized the handle and pulled the door wide and strode inside. Harry followed at his heels, looking around in interest.

One thing became very clear very quickly. Snape liked to read. The main room had floor-ro-ceiling bookshelves on two walls, crammed with books. There were also books scattered here and there in the room on every flat surface. The room was surprisingly plain. Not at all dank and dark as some of the Gryffindors liked to suppose, but all the furniture was rather simple and stark, a pair of chairs, each with a low table by them near a small fireplace, a dining table with two chairs against the one bare wall, with a roll-top desk crammed into the corner between the table and the nearest set of shelves. Unlike Snape's desk in his office, this one was a complete mess, bits of parchment, quills (one of them clearly broken, with a pool of ink beneath it), and a half dozen pots of varying colors of ink, one of which had been left open and was now probably no good. The only other decoration was a thick rug on the floor. Despite the scarcity of furniture, the room didn't feel at all unwelcoming, and, to Harry's surprise, it didn't scream Slytherin, either. The colors were mostly browns and creams, with a few hints of green and silver here and there, and most of it was book spines, which Snape couldn't possibly have demanded to be in his house colors.

"This way, Harry." Snape led him to the arch that sat on the other side of the dining table from the desk. Down this short corridor, there were five doors. Snape tapped the first one on the left. "This is my private lab. The door is warded and locked, as the potions I brew are frequently rather explosive if badly handled. I would ask you not to enter unless I give my permission. The same goes for my supply room." He tapped the door immediately across from the lab.

"Not a problem." Harry said, easily able (after a few months of Neville's difficulties with potions) to get a rather nasty mental picture of what might happen if he disturbed Snape at the wrong moment, or succeeded in breaking vials of ingredients (or worse, stored potions) all over himself.

"The door at the end leads to my room. The second door on the right is the loo, and this one is yours." Snape didn't bother telling Harry that his room had, at one time, been intended to be a storage cupboard for potions ingredients, given it was right next to a lab (these quarters had belonged to the Potions teacher since time immemorial). Snape's collection of ingredients, however, had rather quickly outstripped the room's capacity, and he'd moved it to the room across the hall, as that one did not lay on an outside wall, and he'd been able to convince the castle to expand the room. He'd had time enough while Harry was recovering to ensure that furniture was moved into the empty room ... a bed virtually identical to the one in Harry's dorm room, a desk, and a wardrobe for his clothing, as well as another thick rug ... all of it, again to Harry's surprise, in Gryffindor colors.

"It's great, Professor." Harry told him. And despite the simplicity, it really was. Certainly, it felt more welcoming than Dudley's second bedroom had.

"As we are going to be living together over the next few weeks, you may call me Severus if you would like. I would just ask you to remember to call me Professor around the other students." Snape told him.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Really?" And then he grinned. "Thanks P ... I mean, Severus." It felt rather odd to call Snape by his given name, and Harry had a feeling it'd be a while before he got into the habit ... which was probably just as well, considering he was still a professor!

The last week of school before the holidays passed in a flash. Of course, when the sign-up for staying at Hogwarts came around, Malfoy had to be an ass about getting to go home. Harry couldn't quite resist a comment.

"Oh, but I get to go home too." He said. And while Severus' place wasn't quite home, at least not in the sense Malfoy meant, it might as well be, and probably eventually would be, given a bit of time. "It's going to be brilliant!"

Of course, that confused the heck out of Ron and Hermione, and they pounced on him immediately after class.

"Harry, you can't go back there!" Hermione almost shrieked. "They're horrid people!"

"For once, I agree with Hermione, mate! You can't go back there!" Ron complained, starting to go red in the face. "Is the Headmaster ... " He started, but Harry decided to cut them off.

"Guys, guys, take it easy. I'm not going back to the Dursleys. And you're both nutters if you think I ever once thought of that place as home! Snape's letting me stay with him in his quarters over Christmas, is all."

That made Hermione smile. "Oh Harry, that's great! I mean, I know they say it's neat here over Christmas, but ... "

"You guys are both going, and I'd be more or less alone." Harry said. "Which wouldn't have been fun."

Of course, later, Ron and the twins got letters from their mother saying there'd been a change of plans, and the boys would be staying at Hogwarts after all. Harry almost changed his mind, then, about staying in Severus' quarters, but eventually decided to keep to the original plan.

Then it was Saturday morning, and the school was a madhouse of kids with trunks heading for the main doors and Hogsmeade, to go home for the holidays.

Shortly after they cleared out, most of the students that were staying behind got into a massive snowball fight, shrieking and laughing and chasing each other all over the grounds. Eventually, frozen to the bone and soaking wet, they traipsed back inside, running for their lives to evade Filch when Mrs. Norris showed up. Harry headed up to Gryffindor Tower long enough to change and dry off, then headed for the Great Hall.

While the students had been wreaking havok in the snow, most of the staff had begun to decorate the Great Hall in earnest. There were two trees in the room already, and Harry spotted Hagrid dragging in a third. Most of the staff seemed to be busy hanging things on the walls. McGonagall and Flitwick were both concentrating on the trees, working cooperatively to get them decorated. In fact, the only staff members Harry didn't see were Trelawney (who almost never came down), Filch and Severus. Hmm. Probably down in his quarters then ... or, no, wait ... Severus had told him he spent the first day of holiday marking papers so it was over and done with. So he'd be in his office. There'd been very little homework (aside from Potions, which he'd made sure he got done right away), so Harry decided to see if he could help decorate. He'd never gotten the chance to, before.

"Professors? Is there anything I can do to help?" He called as he walked over.

McGonagall and Flitwick both glanced over at him, and both smiled, though Flitwick added a bit of a bounce to it. "Certainly, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick squeaked. "These boxes here have the decorations. Do you by any chance know a sticking charm?"

Harry grimaced. "I'm afraid not, sir."

"Ahh, you'll pick it up in no time, Mr. Potter, from what I've seen of you in my class. You seem to have inherited your mother's gift with Charms." Flitwick told him.

That just made Harry grin hugely. "Really? You taught her?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter. The staff has not changed overmuch since your parent's time. I believe that only Professors Trelawney and Snape have been added since they graduated." Flitwick told him.

It was something that hadn't really occurred to Harry. Oh, he knew most of the staff was older, but it hadn't quite penetrated that most of them, therefore, had taught his parents when they'd been in school.

Flitwick showed him a low-level sticking charm (all that was needed to keep the ornaments on the tree), and very shortly Harry was floating ornaments onto the tree and sticking them into place. All the while, Flitwick and McGonagall regaled him with tales of his parents in the classroom. Lupin came up quite a bit too, but Harry noticed that there were hesitations, sometimes, like the two of them were editing things. It didn't really surprise him all that much. People (well, people other than the Dursleys) did tend to not want to speak ill of the dead, and it sounded like his dad especially had got up to a lot of mischief.

Eventually they got finished, at least for the day. A single big table had taken the place of the Head table and the four House tables. Severus swooped into the room just before everyone got settled at the table, looking somewhat out of place in his usual black against the increasingly festive Great Hall. Harry sat down beside him with a grin. "Professors Flitwick and McGonagall let me help decorate the trees!" He told Severus.

Severus nodded, the faint quirk at the edge of his mouth and the look in his eyes the only clue that he was amused at Harry's ebullience. "Did they indeed. I'm glad you had a good time. We'll be decorating our quarters tomorrow." Normally, Severus didn't decorate as he was never much for holiday spirit, but with Harry there, he would do at least a tree. A small tree. After all, there was the splendor of the Great Hall for decorations if Harry really wanted. At least Hagrid hadn't made a big deal of supplying him with the tree in question.

HPHPHP

The next few days proved to be interesting. Severus had half expected to be annoyed at having his much-prized privacy disturbed. Instead, he'd found the small noises Harry made just traipsing about rather soothing. Certainly, he was more than willing to play assistant, happily traipsing between the storeroom and the lab.

Over time, Severus had discovered that Harry did quite well in Potions ... he had a sure and steady hand, both for cutting and adding ingredients, and so long as no one attempted to sabotage his potion (which Malfoy did more than once, and got in trouble for every time), he could generally produce if not a perfect potion, then something quite close. Severus had been torn between amusement and outrage when he'd once asked Harry about it, and Harry said that potions was much like cooking.

Unfortunately, Harry did not seem interested in the trial-and-error that was inventing and improving potions, nor did he have the (for lack of a better word) spark that allowed a true Potions Master to make deductive leaps about ingredient combinations, stirring and temperature requirements. Still, he was a more than able assistant, and had been content to assist Severus in completing the last batch of wolfsbane.

Aside from that, they did a variety of things, like reading quietly side by side. Harry had rather quickly abandoned the second chair by the fire for a thick cushion on the floor, which had made Severus give an amused snort. Ahh, to be that young and flexible again! Then there'd been multiple trips outside for Harry to fly about on his school broom, usually with the Weasleys in tow. They also spent far more time in the Great Hall than was Severus' normal wont.

Christmas Eve found them once more on the pitch with the Weasley's again. Severus watched them from the ground, shaking his head at their aerial antics. At least there was a thick coating of snow on the ground to soften their landings if they fell. Then, suddenly, Severus felt something wet smack his shoulder. It took a moment for him to realize he'd just been hit by a snowball. He couldn't even begin to remember the last time a student had possessed the temerity to assault him with one. There was a frozen moment of silence before Severus whipped out his wand and started flinging snowballs at all four boys in retaliation. Of course, they felt honorbound to respond, and things quickly degenerated into an all-out snowball fight.

And if anyone had told Severus that he would someday find himself in a snowball fight with three Weasleys and a Potter, he'd have had them committed to St. Mungo's post-haste. At least he won, even if he only won because he (as the boys all averred) cheated.

"I did nothing of the sort. You were not obliged to throw by hand." Severus pointed out as they shook themselves free of snow in the stone courtyard.

"Yeah, but even if we had, you're older'n us!" Harry objected, grinning widely. "You know better spells."

Severus gave an amused snort when he heard one of the Weasleys mutter about sneaky Slytherins. "Then let that be a lesson to you, and be better prepared next time. Not that there will be a next time." He eyed the four of them, and they all nodded understanding. Acting undignified when there were so few witnesses was one thing. Having them try to haul him into something of the sort when the whole school was in attendance was quite another.

Harry slept in on Christmas day, but then, so did Severus. Eventually, the pair of them headed into the sitting room. Harry was more than a bit stunned at the sheer number of presents under the tree. Oh, he'd suspected that he'd get a few things, thanks to the Weasleys, Hermione, and Severus, but it seemed like he had nearly as many presents under the tree as Dudley's had on his last birthday! Considering that he'd been lucky in years past to get a single, unwrapped 'present', this was rather a bit overwhelming.

And what a haul it ended up being. He got some Bertie Botts beans from Ron, a box from the twins (which he made Severus scan for trouble before he opened) which held an array of prank products from Gambol and Japes, a thick woolen sweater and some really good fudge from, of all people, Mrs. Weasley, a hand-made flute from Hagrid and several books from Hermione. There was also a wand holster that could be attached to arm or leg from McGonagall, along with a book on house elves and one on ancient magical buildings. Severus got him more clothes (which he was going to need soon ... the ones he had were already getting a bit snug, thanks to the weight he'd put on), and some books on various Quidditch teams and strategies.

All the while he was unwrapping his own presents, he kept a careful eye on Severus, waiting to see what he thought of the present that Harry's finally found for him, as well as interested in what sorts of presents he got. The first thing he noticed is that Severus didn't have all that many gifts to open. There was a flat, thin present that had two bits of paper in it and nothing else, but Severus looked quite pleased with that, and when he set them aside, Harry was able to see that they were subscriptions, both of them for potions-related magazines or journals. There was a big box of what looked like potion ingredients (Harry recognized unicorn hair for sure, among everything else), which made Harry very glad he'd not gone that route. Another present held several books, and the last one (at least, the last of the ones that weren't his) held a good-sized brown bottle with no label that intrigued Harry a great deal. Whatever could that possibly be?

Severus seemed to be a bit surprised when he realized there was still one more present for him, and he picked it up somewhat gently, turning it several times before he glanced over at Harry, who promptly ducked his head, feeling unaccountably nervous and embarrassed. Fortunately, Severus decided to spare him and opened the wrappings. At first, it looked like another black over-robe, but then he turned it around, and saw that the collar, cuffs, and hem had highly detailed and extremely life-like emerald green snakes slithering in unending loops around silvery-gray ash branches. From a distance, it would look like it was green and silver piping. And now he'd had a better look, the robes themselves were of as high quality as the intricate design. This was definitely not something to be worn to classes, but would make a (for most people) startling change from his usual unrelieved black outside of classes.

"Thank you, Harry. It's quite handsome." He told Harry.

Harry beamed hugely. "Oh, good! I hoped you'd like it. I didn't know what to get you at first. Just glad I didn't go with my first ideas." He motioned towards the books and potions ingredients. "Then I saw some robes in the back of a catalogue, two for each of the Houses, one which was mostly one of the House colors with the other used for the House animal, and one which was black with the House animal done in both House colors on them. I got McGonagall the colorful Gryffindor one."

Which would, Severus had no doubt, please her to no end. "You chose quite well." He said, then pulled a final, squashy package from the far side of his chair. "I have one final gift for you, but this one comes with some restrictions, which I'll explain after you've opened it."

Harry took the present and opened it, then looked in confusion at the watery, silvery gray cloak that puddled in his lap. "A cloak?"

"Not just any cloak, Harry. An invisibility cloak. It belonged to your father. He'd left it in the Headmaster's care before the attack, and the Headmaster gave it to me to return to you."

"And the restrictions?" Harry asked.

Severus smiled. "Exploring the castle is more or less a rite of passage, Harry, and I won't deny you the opportunity to do so. But if I catch you using the cloak for malicious purposes, or if I catch you trying to go into the Forbidden Forest or off the grounds with it, you'll be in quite a lot of trouble, and I'll confiscate the cloak until I'm more sure you can be trusted with it."

"I won't misuse it! I promise!" Harry said. He grinned as he stroked the cloth, then folded it back up and put it with the pile of clothing Severus had gotten him.

The Christmas feast later that day was incredible ... mostly for the fact that Hagrid and McGonagall got rather a bit drunk, as evidenced by the fact Hagrid smooched McGonagall on the cheek and all she did was giggle like a schoolgirl, which had, for Harry, been more than a little surreal. From Severus' expression, he didn't find it any less disturbing than Harry did, but from the complete lack of surprise everyone showed, it was also something of a yearly event.

It was a bit of a relief to get away from everyone else that evening. By then, Harry's arms were full of things from the wizarding crackers that had been provided. He'd come away with a chess set of his own, among other goodies, and was hoping Severus would help him learn to play a bit better so Ron didn't thrash him every time they played. Harry didn't mind losing, all that much, but he figured it would be more fun for Ron if he managed to last longer, at the very least.

He went to bed that night unable to sleep, mentally reviewing what had been a most excellent day. He still felt like he was brimming with energy, and found himself eyeing the shimmery bundle of cloth that was his dad's invisibility cloak in the very early hours of the morning, still wide awake. Severus had said he could wander about the castle. And really, what better time to do it than during the holidays when the staff were much less likely to get cross or assign detentions or take points if he got caught? He grabbed his wand and pulled the cloak over him, then tiptoed to his bedroom door, opening it the tiniest fraction and peering around the edge.

There was only a small bit of light from a single candle in the corridor and one in the sitting room, and no evidence of Severus anywhere to be seen. Carefully, Harry slipped out of his room and tiptoed to the exit, where he hesitated a moment. He'd noticed, coming to Severus' quarters this time, that he'd been able to see the door, but was that because he'd been with Severus, or for some other reason? Harry sighed. Only one way to find out, and he just hoped that if the door went invisible, he'd be able to remember where it was at. Carefully, he slipped through the door, then out of the narrow corridor, lit his wand with a whispered 'lumos', and looked back, giving a pleased grin when he could still see the door. Excellent.

He spent a good hour just in the corridors nearest Severus' quarters, familiarizing himself with the area, before he was sure he'd be able to recognize where he was at if he got close enough. He spent another half hour or so wandering the halls before it occurred to him that he might be able, finally, to get into the restricted section of the library. The good alone knew the three of them had looked everywhere else they could think of to find Flamel, and Hermione'd dropped the hint about the restricted section before she left to be with her parents over the holiday. Maybe he'd finally find something in there.

It didn't take him long to get to the library, or past the rope that separated the main library from the restricted section. Harry eyed the books warily, as he could swear he heard some of them talking, or something. After a moment, Harry shook it off and pointed his lit wand at the book spines, trying to read the writing (which was badly faded in many cases). Eventually, he settled for a book at random and carried it to a corner to read in relative peace.

He'd only barely started skimming the book when he heard a distinctive yowl. Mrs. Norris! He froze in place, hoping she'd pass him by, but a few moments later, the mangy cat prowled into view and headed straight for him, nose twitching like mad. Harry swore silently. Of course! She couldn't see, but she could still smell! He had to get out of here, fast. Wherever that cat went, Filch was soon to follow.

Sure enough, he'd barely started moving when he heard Filch's voice, alternating between calling encouragements to Mrs. Norris and spewing threats at the student he was sure she was tracking. Worse, the bloody damn cat gave chase, following his scent even if she couldn't see him. Harry cursed again under his breath and took off at a dead run, finally spotting a classroom door that was open a little bit. He slid inside and closed the door almost in Mrs. Norris' face. He heard her give an annoyed-sounding yowl and move off, but didn't move from where he'd braced himself on the door, waiting to see if Filch ... damn. Sure enough, Filch, still grumbling and growling, approached the door, but then trotted right past, still pursuing Mrs. Norris.

Harry finally took a deep breath, letting it out in a relieved whoosh. He sagged a bit against the door, and pulled the cloak off his head. It wasn't until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that drew his attention. It was a tall, fairly wide standing mirror. Curious as to how he looked in the cloak, Harry wandered over to have a peek. And whipped around, wide-eyed in horror half a second later, only to give the empty room behind him a baffled look. After a moment, he turned to look again.

There were people. A lot of them. A red-haired woman that looked a good bit like a grown-up version of the girl in the only picture Harry had seen of his mother might look. It was Severus', a black-and-white muggle picture that had been taken by Harry's grandmother. In it, two children, one visibly recognizable (thanks mostly to the nose, Harry was willing to admit) as a very young Severus Snape, were dressed in their Hogwarts robes, standing in what looked like a living room. His mother was smiling widely and clearly excited, while Severus' expression (far more open than the adult's was) was one of tolerant amusement. Severus told him the picture had been taken the morning they went to King's Cross for the first time.

Standing next to the woman who looked like he thought his mum might have looked when she grew up was a man with Harry's hair, and wearing glasses. If that was ... then he was ... ?

"Mum? Dad?"

His mum nodded, and, in the mirror, put her hand on his shoulder. Harry couldn't stop himself from reaching up to touch the same shoulder, even as he refused to look behind him again to confirm they weren't, actually, there. And then, slowly at first but with growing speed, people appeared, grouped behind one or the other of his parents, the similarities between them sometimes clear, sometimes not. Harry grinned a bit when he spotted Charlus standing just behind James.

And just when he thought it couldn't get any stranger, three more people swam into view. The first two appeared next to James, a sandy-haired, slightly worn-looking man and a man a couple inches taller than his dad with long black hair and a look in his eyes that promised mayhem and chaos of a good-natured variety. Whoever they were, they bore little resemblance to the Potter side of the family, and the mystery intrigued Harry. At least until the third person appeared in the mirror, making him whirl around and squeak in startled dismay at having been caught.

But again, there was no one behind him, and Harry turned back around to look, as Severus had joined the group, standing on the far side of Lily, away from James and the other two men. A moment after that, people started fading out until it was just James, Lily, Severus and the two strangers, and then the two strangers faded out, leaving just the three. James and Lily looked happy, and ... proud? ... and Severus had the look in his eyes he got when Harry finally understood the theory behind a particular spell.

Harry had no idea how long he stood there, both wishing desperately he could have his parents alive and with him and wondering why Severus was included. Certainly, he'd gotten to know the man, even to like him, but he was fairly sure Severus did not count as family. But maybe that was the point? After all, the mirror, whatever it was, had showed him something patently impossible ... him surrounded by his (almost entirely) dead family ... and there hadn't been a Dursley in sight, which, now he thought of it, if the mirror was showing actual family, shouldn't they have been there too, even if he hated their guts? Petunia was Lily's sister, after all. So why hadn't they been there, and why had Severus and the two men he didn't know? It was rather confusing.

Eventually, Peeves knocking something over somewhere upstairs broke Harry out of his preoccupation with the mirror, and, realizing how close it was to dawn, he fled to the dungeons. Fortunately, he managed to find Severus' door without any trouble, and slipped inside, racing for his room and stuffing the cloak into his wardrobe before he flung himself on the bed and prepared to pretend he was asleep.

HPHPHP

Severus, being no one's fool, had long ago placed wards and alarms around his quarters that warned him of someone's approach. Unless that someone was keyed into his wards, they would not find his quarters (a precaution against pranks by the braver souls of the castle). He had keyed Harry into the wards so he could see the door, but left the alarm in place, so he'd know if Harry snuck in or out. Given the boy'd gotten the cloak for Christmas, Severus had made a private bet with himself that Harry would use it yet that night. Better, Severus thought, for Harry to swoop about with such a 'novel' item during the holiday. Hopefully, by the time school started again, the novelty of it would have worn off a bit and Harry would not be as inclined to run about at night with it.

He had not, of course, been as asleep as Harry had probably thought, but had been sitting up in his room, book on one hand, parchment and quill on the other as he sought an answer to a particularly knotty problem with one of his experimental potions. He'd also found himself spending a good deal of the time thinking about Harry.

The gift had surprised him. He'd honestly not expected to get anything from Harry at all, or something very generic at best, given how short a time the two of them had known each other. The cloak had been ... unexpected. Much to Severus' amusement, it was of a cut very similar to what he wore day-to-day, and of a similar weight, which meant it would behave much as his usual cloaks did ... which would make the fact that there was (gasp) actual color and design anywhere on them that much more of a shock. If it wasn't for the fact that the chances of them being ruined by some idiot student were high as they were not protected by the multitude of charms Severus had woven into his teaching robes, Severus would have been tempted to wear them to classes. As it was, he would have to settle for wearing them on weekends.

Severus was preoccupied by things other than the unexpected gift, as well. Thus far, other than little snippets, Harry knew little of actual consequence about the past. Oh, he'd been told tales about both Lily (by Severus) and James and the wolf (by Minerva) but Severus' own sordid history, Voldemort and Black had been avoided. Severus would not ... could not ... keep the boy ignorant forever. He had little doubt that Dumbledore would have kept his silence about anything and everything to the bitter end, but Severus was in no way so inclined. Voldemort would, eventually, return. Of that much, Severus was sure. He was already planning, once summer arrived, to begin advancing Harry's tuition in spellcasting of all sorts as quickly as the boy could manage. Allowing Harry as normal a time at school as possible was admirable, and even desirable, but not at the cost of the boy's life if Voldemort (or some Death Eater) popped up unexpectedly.

At any rate, at some point Harry would, at the very least, see Severus' Mark, as it was merely faded, not invisible. Explanations would then be required, and it was best if such things were explained early on. Of course, Severus had no intention of explaining everything, or in great detail ... Harry was entirely too young to know everything just yet, abuse-forced maturity beyond his years be damned. He could, however, explain some of it in simplified terms.

HPHPHP

Harry dragged badly the next day, much to Severus' secret amusement. He'd been out quite late ... the wards had not woken Severus until about an hour before dawn. As it was Boxing Day, Severus had mercy on the boy and let him sleep in. For his own part, Severus was less than pleased that the next day would bring the wolf to his door. To his surprise, Harry seemed somewhat apprehensive about meeting the man. Or, at the very least, just a bit quieter than then norm. And giving Severus odd looks when he thought Severus wasn't looking.

Fortunately, the next day, the Weasley herd had succeeded in dragging Harry out to the quidditch pitch when Remus arrived. Severus, who had gone to the gate to greet the man, found himself surprised to be ... almost alarmed at the wolf's appearance, though he'd never let the wolf know that. He was thin and the gray in his hair and the lines on his face aged him prematurely.

Severus did not hate Remus anywhere near as badly as he did James (Black, may his soul rot in hell, belonged to an entirely different category of virulence), as the wolf had seldom taken part in the harassment and, knowing now that he was a wolf, Severus suspected it simply had not been in his nature to challenge the 'pack alpha' about his behavior. But Black's (damn him) little 'prank' fifth year had left its marks (though, again, Severus would go to the depths of hell before admitting it), and Severus was never again anywhere near comfortable in the man's presence. As he despised weakness in himself, whatever form it might take, this tended to make him cranky, but for Harry's sake, he would at least attempt to leash his tongue.

"Lupin." He greeted, as neutrally as he was able. "There is much to be discussed."

Remus nodded. "I got that impression." Unsaid between them was the knowledge that nothing short of near-apocalypse would induce Severus to seek out a Marauder's assistance and/or counsel. "How is he?"

"Better than he was, to be sure." Severus did not pretend ignorance of whom they were speaking. "And remarkably better than he could have been, but that is one of the subjects we must cover in private."

He led the wolf down to the dungeons, and his office (never would a Marauder be welcome in his private quarters!). Remus settled in the chair in front of Severus' desk, and for a time the two men studied each other from across the bulwark that was the desk. Finally, Severus cast several wards to ensure their privacy.

"I will admit to harboring the belief that the boy would be his father reborn." Severus told Remus. "So, when he arrived, I watched him. Closely. Imagine my surprise when I discovered he was far too short, far too thin, and not only showed no trace of his father's personality, but only traces of Lily's. He was shy, did not interact with any save the youngest Weasley and a Muggleborn girl in his year and House by the name of Granger, and never took part in the roughhousing that is ... normal ... for young boys." Severus sighed. "Individually, it would have been easy to believe the boy to merely be quiet, but together ... "

"It raised alarms." Remus acknowledged, looking serious.

"Indeed. I ... arranged ... for Harry to have a detention, where I might speak to him most directly and plainly, and got ... quite the earful, the full details of which I will not divulge, as it is up to Harry whom he speaks to of it, but there have been a few moments over the last months when I have entertained the notion of introducing you to the Dursleys on a full moon."

Which sentiment, given Severus' ... issues ... with werewolves, was an indication of just how bad it had been, Remus knew.

"I came remarkably close to hexing the Headmaster into the middle of the next century when I discovered he'd left the boy with Petunia, of all people." Severus' voice was rich with disgust. "And Minerva and Poppy were not but a minute behind me in expressing their extreme displeasure. Minerva especially was rather ... inventive ... in her descriptions of the Headmaster's failings in this matter."

Remus looked faintly amused. "I can well imagine."

Severus smirked. "I used the assistance of a certain acquaintance of mine to ensure Harry's guardianship was placed in my hands, and we have since been spending a good deal of time together. He is a remarkable young man."

"How much does he know?" Remus wanted to know.

"Very little, at this point. Black." Severus spat the name. "Has not been spoken of at all, nor Pettigrew. He knows your name, and that you were a friend of his father's ... and that we did not get on at all well in school, though I have not told him any specifics. You will be telling him of your condition." Severus made no bones about that. "If for no other reason than the fact that he is quite inquisitive and will investigate on his own if denied the information." Severus grinned. "He has been most persistent with a matter he caught wind of when Hagrid took him to buy his things on his birthday."

Remus sighed, but nodded. There was no way in hell he wanted a repeat of anything even remotely like what had happened with Severus. "If he's that persistent, it will be for the best." He agreed.

"I will be providing you with wolfsbane, and you will take it without fail." Severus continued. "I have been experimenting with the recipe to improve its efficacy, and will require information of you afterwards."

Again, that was fair enough, and more than. Remus did not enjoy losing his mind every full moon, so access to wolfsbane (normally too expensive for him to afford) was welcome indeed, and an improved formula that made the change less traumatic would be a blessing. "You mentioned an artifact of the Marauders in your letter." Remus commented. It had been those exact words, too, which had Remus suspecting what it was.

"Yes. A few days after the discovery of Harry's situation, the Weasley twins approached me. They are as mischievous as the four of you once were, but without the ... " Severus sneered. "cruelty, and the best potioneers I've seen in the entire time I've taught here. I have supervised their brewing and inventing since early in their first year, after a particularly ... spectacular ... failure that very nearly took out an entire corridor of the dungeons."

Remus nodded, and Severus continued. "They came to me with a concern. And this." Severus opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out the map. From the surprised look on Remus' face, he recognized it. "They told me that in the wake of the discovery of Harry's situation, they'd been keeping an eye on him and their little brother with this. And in the process spotted a name they did not recognize as student, staff, or ghost. A name that appeared, at least once, in Harry's dorm room. It was Pettigrew."

Remus jerked. "Pettigrew? Are you sure? Are they?"

"They have never lied to me ... and would not, not about something like this." Severus said. "And since, I have spotted the name once myself, when the children were all in their classes. He was in Harry's dorm room again. But I do not know how you lot created this, so I do not know if it is malfunctioning or something of the sort."

Remus immediately took the map and tapped it with his wand, muttering under his breath. The parchment glowed a variety of colors in rapid succession, and writing appeared and disappeared across the surface so fast Severus could not catch more than one word in five, but Remus evidently was able to make sense of it. Severus was just glad that Remus was the Marauder available to him to check the map. He had little doubt that Remus, always studious, had been the source for the research that would have needed to be done to create the map.

After several long minutes, Remus lifted his head. "It's still functioning as it ought to." He finally confirmed, his expression troubled. He smoothed the map out on Severus' desk and activated it, then, once the map had formed, tapped it again. "Locus Peter Pettigrew." He commanded.

A few moments later, all the names save one had disappeared. Severus cocked an eyebrow, intrigued, even as he watched the small dot. It was up on the sixth floor near the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"We're going to have a job of it catching up to him." Remus said. "Though it does not entirely surprise me that he would be a ghost, given how he died."

"We can speak to the ghosts. The Baron, Sir Nicholas and the Friar may be willing to assist." Severus pointed out.

"Hmm, that would be a good idea." Remus agreed.

Severus watched as Remus folded up the map, then handed it back over. "He's out on the quidditch pitch. I'll introduce the two of you."

The pair of them headed outside, tramping through the thick snow to where the Weasleys and Harry were zooming about on the school brooms in an excess of high spirits. Severus heard Remus' sharp inhale, and had to fight his own, as Harry suddenly dove towards the earth in pursuit of a dropped Quaffle (it didn't look like they had a Snitch out). Only the fact he'd seen Harry fly before allowed him a measure of outward equanimity.

"My god, he can fly." Remus said quietly.

"You should see him in a game." Severus grumped sourly, which earned him an amused look from the wolf.

HPHPHP

Harry had completely forgotten Remus would show up about halfway through the pick-up game of quidditch (him and one of the twins against Ron and the other one, with just the quaffle to keep life simple). Flying did have that tendency for him, allowing the rest of the world to drop away and cease to exist. He loved it. But then, just after he'd had to do a quick dive to catch the quaffle when Fred dropped it. Harry had no idea if that was the correct name, but since the twin in question was wearing a sweater with an F on it, he was Fred for the duration. It helped keep him sane. Anyway, he'd just pulled out of the dive with the quaffle under his arm when he spotted Severus' distinctive black-clad form walking out onto the pitch, followed by someone else.

Harry damn near fell off his broom when he got a closer look at the newcomer. Whoever he was, he looked virtually identical to the man he'd seen in that weird mirror Christmas night. And again last night. Who ...? And then, belatedly, he remembered who was supposed to be arriving today. Was this, then, Remus Lupin?

"Sorry guys!" He called to Ron and the twins. "Got to call it a day for a bit. Think I have a visitor!"

Ron and the twins agreed easily enough, and Harry tossed them the quaffle before landing, feeling suddenly shy as he studied the somewhat shabby dressed and very worn-looking man. "Ummm ... hi. Are you Mr. Lupin?"

The man smiled at him, and nodded. "Yes, but call me Remus." He said. "I was a good friend of your father's."

"It's nice to meet you, sir. Errr, Remus." Harry said, offering a hand.

Remus shook it. "Perhaps we should go inside?" He suggested. "I think you've been out here a while, and you're probably colder than you realize."

Harry grinned. "Sure. I could use something warm to drink." He shot a look at Severus, wondering if Severus would be coming with them, and gave a pleased grin when he got a faint nod.

Meeting Remus had been nice, but he really couldn't hold Harry's interest all that much over the next few days. He was thinking about the mirror, and what he saw in it. He visited it twice more, just staring at the image.

Of course Severus noticed Harry's increasingly odd behavior. And he noticed, because both he and Remus were spending a lot of time with the map trying to track Pettigrew, that Harry seemed to, in his overnight wanderings, head for the same place two nights in a row.

Curious, Severus disillusioned himself and followed Harry on silent feet. The boy was evidently completely unaware he was being followed, and Severus made a mental note to work with him on being more aware of his surroundings. Then Harry slipped into a normally unused classroom, and Severus followed.

He got one good look at what was in the room and cursed mentally. What in the name of hell was THAT doing where students could find the bloody damn thing? The Mirror of Erised was damn dangerous! Especially for someone like Harry, who'd had such a miserable life. He disillusioned himself and, careful to keep his eyes averted from the mirror (there was no way in hell he was going to let himself be tempted by the damn thing), he put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry jumped about ten feet in the air, whirled around, and let out a shriek all at the same time, eyes wide with apprehension. When he realized who'd found him, he put a hand to his chest.

"You scared me half to death!" Harry told Severus.

Severus allowed a small, amused smile to curl his lips. "So I noticed. Come, Harry ... you really should not be here. This mirror is dangerous."

"What do you mean?"

"It is called the Mirror of Erised, and shows what a person wants most. There have been documented cases of people sitting before it, refusing to eat and wasting away as they try to figure out how to get what they see, or they go mad because whatever it is they see cannot be obtained. I have no idea what it's even doing here." And Albus would be getting an earful later. Again. Damn man.

"Yeah, I kind of noticed the not-possible bit." Harry said, his voice sad.

Severus was willing to bet he had a fair idea of what Harry had seen, given his previous life. Severus would have seen the same thing when he was that age. "You never know, Harry. Sometimes ... things are not as impossible as they seem. You saw your family?" He guessed.

Harry looked up at him as Severus maneuvered them out of the room. "How did you know?" He asked.

"It's a rather understandable desire, Harry. You've not had a family for the bulk of your life. I know it's not the same, but once we get their portrait out of the vaults, you'll be able to have your parents around, in a way ... as well as most of your relatives on the Potter side through their portraits at the manor. And family is more than blood. You're getting very close to the youngest three Mr. Weasleys, and Mrs. Weasley sent you a present for Christmas, and you're quite close to Miss Granger."

Harry thought about that. "So I'm ... sort of making my own family, then?"

Severus nodded, and Harry smiled up at him. Maybe Severus was right. Maybe what he saw in the mirror wasn't quite as impossible as he thought it was. Because while Harry was fairly sure Severus would never say the actual words, he was at the least fond of Harry. And so was McGonagall. And Hagrid, of course, and maybe, given time, Remus. They made for an odd group indeed, but Severus was right ... the image was not as impossible as it seemed. And in the face of that, of his own family of people who cared about him ... who cared about an image in a mirror? Maybe he couldn't have his parents alive (and he might not figure out who the mystery man was), but what he had was a damn sight more than he'd had before.

HPHPHP

The rest of the Christmas break passed rather uneventfully for Harry ... well, aside from that whole 'Harry, I'm a werewolf.' thing with Remus. Still, Remus was nice, incredibly easygoing and good-tempered, so Harry just made due note to avoid seeking Remus out over the full moon and left it at that.

Well, that and the growing hints of ... well, something. Something that wasn't wrong, per se, but being ... left out, maybe? ... of what was being said. Harry was becoming more and more aware of certain gaps in conversations, of a certain awkwardness when specific subjects came up. At first, Harry had dismissed it as Remus and Severus having, as kids, been, if not enemies,then certainly rivals of a sort, and the memories of their school days therefore being fraught with rather ... touchy subjects. But after a while, he realized that while that may have been part of the problem, it wasn't the whole of it.

Unfortunately, before he could figure it out, everyone came back from the holidays and classes began again. Hermione was less than pleased with he and Ron over their lack of industry when it came to figuring out Flamel, but then she'd revealed that she'd fun across something.

"Flamel's known to Muggles. At least, in a way." She told them as they huddled together in a corner of the Gryffindor common room. "I knew I'd heard the name somewhere! He was an alchemist, at least according ... "

She didn't get any further than that, because Harry abruptly remembered where he had seen the name. "Oh, of course! That's where I saw it! Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card! He's worked with Flamel!" Then Harry frowned. "Not that that helps us much."

"But it does! Alchemy, at least according to Muggles, was a way to turn other metals into gold." Hermione pointed out. "Through something called the Philosopher's stone."

Harry went wide-eyed. "Hermione ... the package Hagrid got out of the vault ... it was rock-sized." He said.

Hermione nodded. "And that's not all. I looked it up. The Philosopher's Stone was, if it was created, to be able to create an 'elixir of life'."

That made Ron whistle. "Gold and something like that? No wonder Quirrell's after it." They'd all, by now, seen Quirrell skulking about near the off-limits corridor. Ron had initially argued for Snape to be the one trying to get it, but after several months of seeing the man being something other than the 'evil, greasy git' his older brothers remembered and had told tales about, he'd been willing to drop Snape in favor of Quirrel.

"We better check to make sure the information's the same in the wizarding world." Hermione said. "Now we know what to look for, it should be easy."

Harry nodded. "I'm pretty sure Snape knows Quirrel's up to something. I've seen him watching Quirrell a lot."

At least they didn't have to fret so much about the thing being in danger.

HPHPHP

Before Harry knew it, it was time for the next Quidditch game, this one against Hufflepuff. After the rather brutal game against Slytherin, Harry was sure this one would be a cinch. At least the Hufflepuffs played fair. Harry wouldn't have to worry so much about getting thrashed with a Beater's bat (or some such thing) in the air.

Fifteen minutes into the game, Gryffindor was in the lead by thirty points. Harry, scanning the pitch from above the main part of the action, spotted the snitch and dived after it. Just as he was getting to top speed, the broom bucked under him, hard, nearly unseating him. He gripped the wood hard with his hands and kept going. A second later, it not only happened again, but the broom stopped dead in midair. Harry let out a frightened yelp as he started, thanks to momentum, to catapult off the front of the broom. Only the tight grip he'd had saved him from a brutal fall, and even at that Harry let out another cry as his arms were given a nasty wrench. Dangling from his hands a good fifty feet or more above the ground, all Harry could do was hang on for dear life as the broom jerked and writhed and bucked. But now the movements were smaller, more halting.

As he'd been almost to the middle of the pitch, Harry's plight had not gone unnoticed by the other players, and the game was rapidly abandoned as the Gryffindors raced to attempt to rescue Harry from the twitching, jerking broom. Unfortunately, every time someone approached, the broom jerked higher into the air. Fred and George circled well away from him, then raced upwards, managing to get above the level of Harry's broom before they raced towards him again, attempting to keep ... whatever was going on from jerking him higher. It seemed to work ... at least Harry didn't shoot up towards them anymore. Unfortunately, the broom just started shaking harder in response to anyone getting close.

In the stands, all hell was breaking loose. Hagrid and Ron watched in horror as something tried to shake Harry loose from his tenuous perch. Hermione, however, was scanning the stands frantically. Brooms were very, very hard to tamper with ... well beyond the skills of any student, and with all four teams having identical brooms, no one could have possibly known which broom Harry would be riding before the game. That meant whatever was being done was being done here and now ... a jinx or hex or spell. Finally, after what felt like far, far too long, she spotted the culprit, and without a word to Hagrid and Ron, raced through the crowds. There was no time ... and no way to warn Professor Snape. She'd just have to do this on her own.

Severus' world had narrowed to a single broom and the boy dangling from it. The first lurch of Harry's broom had not gone undetected, but Snape had thought it had been something Harry had done. The abrupt midair stop, though, had made it plainly clear something was very, very wrong. With no idea who was doing it, or what, precisely, they were doing, all Snape could do was mutter a general anti-jinx and pit his strength and will against that of whoever was trying to harm Harry. Whoever it was, they were damnably strong. Surprisingly so. But that knowledge was but a dim spark in the back of Severus' mind. He was almost wholly unaware of the mayhem around him.

Hermione wasted no time ... and no mercy. The moment she was in range, she fairly yowled 'Incendio!", lighting Quirrell's cloak aflame. He let out a shriek of his own and frantically yanked the burning cloak off himself, beating at it. Hermione quickly retreated, plastering herself against the stairs closest to where Snape would be descending.

Harry let out a relieved whoosh when the broom stopped bucking. Unfortunately, thanks to the wrench he'd taken, swinging himself up and onto his broom was proving to be impossible. Then the Gryffindor team, moving slowly lest the broom start bucking again, was around him and Wood, the oldest and strongest, hauled Harry onto his broom while Fred and George corralled Harry's broom, and the entire team headed for the ground. Within seconds, the staff section of the stands had emptied, with Pomphrey and Snape leading the charge. There was several minutes of confused babbling, and then Pomphrey was marching Harry to the Infirmary to deal with his injuries.

Hermione, hidden under the staff section of the stands, was the only one to see Quirrell head, not for the pitch or the castle, but for the Forest. She scurried out from under the stands and raced for Snape.

"Professor Snape! Sir! Wait!" She called out.

Severus whirled around, expression forbidding. "Miss Granger?"

"It was Quirrell! He was jinxing the broom. And he's gone into the forest!" Hermione fairly babbled. A second later, she was falling back and away from Snape, eyes huge and round.

Not that Severus would have blamed her. Even his anger at Dumbledore at the start of the year dimmed in comparison to this. "Thank you for the information, Miss Granger." He snarled, and then he took off for the woods at a dead run, fully intending to commit murder.

With the length of his legs and the speed at which he was running, it did not take him long to catch up to Quirrel. "Incarcerous!" He bellowed. And watched in surprise as Quirrell, someone he knew to be only a passable duelist, evaded the spell with ease.

Quirrell whirled on him and to Severus' stunned surprise, threw a nasty Dark spell at him. Severus whirled out of the way ... and the battle was on. And even from that first spell, Severus knew something was very much not right, here, though he couldn't quite figure out what as he snarled out spells and flung himself about to evade what spells he couldn't block.

For one thing ... Quirrell was no duelist. For another, as far as Severus knew, the man had never so much as touched the Dark Arts, yet he was slinging spells that only someone well-practiced in the art would ever dare to use. Severus was fully expecting the Unforgivables to show up at some point. And then there was the fact that, the longer they battled, the stronger the spells became ... and the more familiar the fighting style became.

By the two-minute mark, they were the only living things left in their corner of the Forest that were capable of moving. Around them, trees and bushes were catching fire, exploding into splinters, and twisting into hideous, deformed things as spells slammed into them. Great gouts of earth were exploding into the air at odd intervals, and what few trees weren't being destroyed by spells were being ripped out of the ground for use as shields and weapons.

By the end of the three-minute mark, Severus knew he was in deep trouble. Because he finally recognized that fighting style. He knew himself to be an above-average fighter ... he did not call himself a duelist, as the Dark Arts spells he was so good at were all forbidden in 'polite' duels, and he was more interested in surviving a battle than in giving observers a good show. Quirrell, he could have trounced any day of the week. Indeed, of the staff, only Filius and Dumbledore were better fighters. McGonagall's skill was too close to his own for him to know for sure who was the better. Severus was not afraid to fight dirty to win, to survive ... and yet, he was losing. More and more of his opponent's spells were breaking through his shields, narrowly missing Severus again and again as he flung himself out of the way. It was quickly becoming clear to him that Quirrell ... or, should he say Voldemort-possessed Quirrell, however that had happened ... was toying with him.

And then Severus got hit with a spell and went flying, smashing into a tree and collapsing to the ground, only partially conscious. But before Quirrell could finish the job he'd started, there was a brilliant flare of light and flame. Dumbledore had arrived.

If the previous fight had been amazing, what happened next was nothing less than spectacular. Severus, through dazed, pained eyes, watched as Dumbledore fought Quirrell to a standstill. Then, abruptly, Quirrell dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and a black, malevolent cloud raced out of the body and away from the two of them, deep into the forest.

Dumbledore whirled and the next thing Snape knew, he was being floated at about hip-height. Dumbledore gripped Severus' badly torn cloak, then glanced upwards before reaching a hand up. Fawkes, who had flashed Dumbledore to the forest, grabbed Dumbeldore's hand and flashed the both of them straight into the infirmary.

Harry, just being looked at by Pomphrey, let out a horrified cry when he saw the bloodied, torn wreck that was Severus Snape. Pomphrey hustled over and spells of an entirely different sort began to fly, as well as potions vials, as she fought to undo the internal damage the spell had done. Eventually, she sagged into a chair, and glanced tiredly up at Dumbledore, who she only just then realized had been assisting her as best he could.

"He'll be all right." She told the man. "He'll need at least a week of bedrest, if we can manage to keep him horizontal for that long." There was a glimmer of amusement in Pomphrey's eyes at that. Severus was rather a poor patient. "And we'll have to keep a careful eye on him for the next twenty-four hours in case there's a relapse, but if he avoids that, he'll be back to normal in two week's time."

From the bed across the room, Harry just stared at Severus in horror. He was nearly as white as the sheets he was laying on, but what was kind of terrifying was the fact that other than the white face and shredded cloak, there was now no outward sign that Severus was in as dire straits as Pomphrey seemed to be indicating.

"What happened?" Harry demanded, more than a little stridently.

It was Hermione, eyes glued to Snape, looking as horrified as Harry felt, that answered. "Quirrell. Quirrell happened, didn't he? He went after him! Oh, I shouldn't have told him!" She looked like she was half a step away from crying, and even Ron was looking completely horrified.

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Miss Granger, you did precisely the correct thing. You had no way of knowing what would happen from there. Indeed, even I did not foresee this." And he had little doubt that once he was back on his feet, Severus would take him to task for missing the fact that one of the teachers had somehow become possessed by none other than Voldemort. Not that he himself would not be taking himself to task for missing it in the meantime, but Dumbledore would not deny Severus the right. "He will recover, as will Harry, and the matter is now fully dealt with." Hardly, but the aftermath was not something for children to concern themselves with. "Now, I believe Mr. Potter could use a bit of rest, so perhaps ... "

"We're staying here." Ron growled, looking exceptionally mulish. Pomphrey had succeeded in chasing off the Gryffindor quidditch team, but insofar as Ron (and Hermione) were concerned, there was no force on earth that would roust them from their friend's side. Hermione, though less pleased to be defying the Headmaster, had her chin at a stubborn angle.

Pomphrey snorted. "You will remain quiet, do you hear? If you disturb the quiet even once, you'll be out of here so fast your heads will swim!"

Ron and Hermione both nodded, and Dumbledore took his leave after giving them (and Pomphrey) an amused glance.

The Forest Battle, as it came to be called, was Hogwarts legend within about ten minutes of the battle ending. Fully half the school, returning to the castle from the game, had seen the Forest getting torn to shreds, had seen the flashes of light that indicated spellfire. The castle was alive with rumor and speculation, and had he been awake, Severus would have been secretly amused at how centrally he figured in all of the rumors, as one of the few bits of information anyone knew for sure was that he had been seen racing for the forest at top speed. Practically his entire House (and half of the rest) attempted to invade the Infirmary at one point or another over the next few days, once it had been confirmed he was, indeed, in the infirmary.

There had been no amount of persuasion or magical force that would have gotten Harry (once Pomphrey had seen to his wrenched arms) out of the infirmary. She eventually managed to chase Hermione and Ron out, but Harry curled himself up in a chair next to Severus's bed (now surrounded by curtains for privacy) and refused to move.

It scared Harry, more than a little, how still and silent Severus was. More than once, he caught himself counting the slow rising of the covers that indicated the man was still breathing. He found himself grateful for the fact that Pomphrey had actually locked the infirmary doors for half a day that first day to keep people out, as it allowed him to stand watch uninterrupted. Well, mostly. Remus, concerned about Harry, had convinced Pomphrey to allow him entry a few times, and Dumbledore had been in and out, checking on them both.

Severus finally woke a day and a half after the battle (though he was unaware of how long it had been at first), and scowled, even with his eyes closed, as his body reported in no uncertain terms that it did not appreciate whatever the hell he'd done to himself this time. It took a few seconds for memory of the battle to find its way through the fog, and once it did, the scowl increased and he made a sound of disgust. He despised being cooped up in the infirmary. It happened infrequently enough, thankfully, but any time spent here was too much.

He was pleased, however, to discover himself alone for the moment when he opened his eyes. No Poppy or Dumbledore hovering annoyingly. It allowed him to assess his condition for himself. His scowl deepened when he realized that aside from aching abominably, he felt as weak as a newborn kneazle. Not all that surprising, given he had vague memories of fetching up against something (a tree, obviously, given their surroundings) rather hard, on top of whatever that last curse had been.

Unfortunately, at that point, his solitude was interrupted by both meddlers, as they left Poppy's office.

"Severus!" Poppy sounded quite pleased to see him awake again. "Don't you even think of trying to move, young man!" She scolded, and then started scanning him, tutting and nodding by turns. "Yes, you're healing up fine. You're not to move from that bed, however, for at least three more days. And I will have no compunctions about Sticking you to the bed if you fight me!" Poppy warned, glaring at him balefully. "That curse did a lot of internal damage, and you've lost a lot of blood. You're not going to be able for much for a few weeks."

Severus scoffed at her mollycoddling. "I'll be back to normal in a week." He growled.

Poppy humphed at him, and then headed back to her office to give him and Dumbledore some privacy.

"I am glad to see you on the mend, Severus." Dumbledore told him. "You had us worried for a while."

Severus snorted. "Unlikely. How long have I been out?"

"Almost two days. And if you do not believe people were worried ... " Dumbledore motioned off to Severus' right, and Severus glanced that way ... and did a double take when he realized that Harry was curled up in a chair, sound asleep, with a blanket wrapped around him. "Harry has refused to leave your side since the battle. Neither Pomphrey's orders nor my reassurances moved him. And if that still does not convince you, the mountain of gifts Poppy has had to remove to another room lest you be buried ought to do it."

Severus pushed aside the knowledge of Harry's concern for later contemplation. "Gifts?" He asked, rather a bit stunned.

"Indeed. Most of the school witnessed the forest being engulfed in the battle. Many of them saw you racing that direction, and Miss Granger made no bones about you chasing after Quirinus in an effort to apprehend him after his malicious endangerment of Mr. Potter. In consequence, your popularity has reached new heights, I'm afraid."

Severus scoffed. He'd not been out to apprehend Quirrell, and Dumbledore knew it, even if he didn't like nor was comfortable with it. There was, after all, a reason Severus was so good at the Dark Arts, and it had nothing to do with him being a Voldemort in the making. As for being popular ... bah. Who needed that? It'd just end up making his classes a pain in the ass.

The Dark Arts were so named because they were a collection of entirely malicious spells, with no 'redeeming' use, that required a certain emotion and frame of mind to be used. The Unforgivables, of course, were the most famous of the Dark Arts spells, but there were many, many others. Spells such as Sectumsempra had no real application outside of doing a person grievous injury. And while most any idiot could (and did) summon the homicidal rage, hate, and desire to see one's enemy suffer and die most horribly (among other such unpleasant emotions) that was required to wield a Dark Arts spell in extremis (such as having just seen a loved one killed), it took a very particular sort of personality to summon the requisite emotions at any time ... and an even rarer one to be able to do so, yet not have the desire to delve into the blackest depths of the Dark Arts, nor fall prey to the ... madness ... that was a frequent result of playing about with forces one did not truly understand as Voldemort had done.

Unlike most of the Order (and Dumbledore in particular) Severus never had, and never would, believe in giving second chances, and was wholly in favor of immediate, painful and preferably permanent retribution against an attacker. Everyone who knew him knew that, and was aware of the danger they put themselves in if they were fool enough to cross him. He was aware that his disdain for Dumbledore's policy on forgiveness and second chances was the worst sort of hypocrisy, given that he himself had benefitted from it, but he didn't truly give a damn.

"Rest, Severus. Poppy would be most displeased with me if I were to ask you for details the moment you woke. We'll talk later." Dumbledore said after a moment, then reached over and patted Severus' arm. "I am just glad I got there in time."

"That makes two of us, Headmaster." Severus grumbled. He was less than pleased to discover that despite having been awake for all of perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, he was beginning to have trouble following the conversation, and was battling an increasing desire to go back to sleep. He scowled blackly. Damn but he hated being ill or injured. Within moments of Dumbledore's withdrawal, Severus lost the battle with his exhaustion.

When next he woke, it was to the sound of Harry's rather peevish voice, interrogating Pomphrey. "Why didn't you wake me!"

"Perhaps, Harry, because I was hardly awake for more than a few minutes." Severus growled.

"Severus!" Severus was surprised to detect no small amount of near-panic and relief in Harry's voice. A moment later, Harry's face came into view, every bit as upset and worried as his voice had sounded. "I was really worried." He admitted quietly.

Severus grunted. "I am far too stubborn, Harry, to die so easily as all that, I assure you." From the wide, relieved grin on Harry's face, the underlying message had been received, loud and clear. Severus fought down his own sense of ... pleasure, perhaps? ... that someone other than Dumbledore, Poppy and Minerva were worried for his welfare. "Now that you have been assured as to my continued state of living, you should perhaps return to your dorm and classes."

"Can't!" Harry said, sounding entirely too gleeful about it. "Classes got cancelled for the rest of the week. The castle's crawling with Aurors wanting to talk to everyone to see what they know, and I don't think there's more than about a dozen kids, all told, who'd be able to concentrate on lessons even if they were being held. And besides ... you can't do classes for a while, 'ccording to Pomphrey, and by the time Dumbledore finds someone qualified, you'd be on your feet again anyway. Practically the entire school's tried to get in here to see you!" Harry grinned widely. "You should have seen Madame Pomphrey."

Severus could well imagine that redoubtable woman's ire at her infirmary being invaded in such a manner, especially when there was someone in dire straits under her care. "I imagine all and sundry left with their tails firmly between their legs and their ears blistered?"

That made Harry snicker. "Yeah, more or less."

Poppy gave an amused huff. "Now that you two have caught up on the gossip, I need to check on Severus. Harry, you know the drill."

To Severus' surprise, Harry willingly scooted beyond the privacy curtains. Poppy, seeing the look on his face, smiled. "I promised he could stay, so long as he did not interfere in any way. He's been desperate enough to watch over you to not defy me." Evidently, it was the day for Severus to be unable to keep his expression neutral, because she smiled again. "Oh yes, that young man's been fretting something fierce, Severus. I don't think he quite realized how attached he'd gotten to you until this happened."

Severus snorted as Poppy began her diagnostic scans. "I assure you, Poppy ... "

"Oh, don't even start, Severus. That boy's quite fond of you. And even if you'll never admit it, you're just as bad. Personally, I think it's well past time, for the both of you."

Severus scowled at her, but she was, evidently, on a roll. "I know you blame yourself, Severus, for a great many things. And it is quite apparent to me that you seem to think that the only way you can make up for your perceived mistakes is to live a life of misery. Which is complete nonsense! Aht!" She scolded when he opened his mouth to rebutt. "I keep telling you this, Severus! And I know Dumbledore has in the past, as well as Minerva, and I know you've ignored us all. Well, this time you're going to listen, whether you want to or not!" She glared at him. "Yes, Severus, you made a mistake." She motioned to his left arm. "One mistake. And you're hardly the only one to fall for that ... creature's blandishments. You weren't the first, I'll wager, to be utterly horrified by who and what that madman really was, and really wanted his people to do! But you came back ... and far's I know, you were the only one to even try! You put body and mind in mortal danger for best of a year playing spy for us. You paid your toll, Severus, whether you think you have or not. It's far and beyond time for you to start living again."

Severus sighed. He liked Poppy, as much as he liked anyone, anymore ... but she was not in possession of all the facts. She didn't have a clue about the prophecy ... or his part in Lily's death, which was something he'd never be able to forgive himself for, no matter what anyone else said. She'd been the only ray of light in his world.

Poppy let the matter go at that point, thankfully, and handed over several vials of potions. "Drink these, and then if you've energy enough, Dumbledore's wanting to know what happened. He's gotten parts of the story from Harry and young Miss Granger, but there's gaps he's wanting filled in."

"I imagine so." Severus agreed, swallowing down the potions without more than a token sneer. He was not feeling well enough to interrogate her about them ... which was really all he needed to know to know he needed them.

A minute or so later, after Poppy withdrew, Dumbledore stepped into the area surrounded by the privacy curtains. "Severus. How are you feeling?" Dumbledore wanted to know as he sat down.

"As well as can be expected, I imagine." Severus said, then started with his report. "I didn't realize instantly that Harry was in trouble, but I figured it out when the broom jerked a second time. After that, I mostly lost track of what was going on, as I was concentrating all my attention and strength on a counter jinx. The only thing I knew was that whoever was jinxing the broom was damnably strong. It should have been a warning." He admitted. "I was one of the first to head for the pitch, but before I could get to Harry, Miss Granger intercepted me." He frowned as he considered that. "What she was doing on that side of the stands, I've no idea."

"Miss Granger spotted Quirrell doing the jinx and ran over to stop him." Dumbledore explained. "She lit him afire rather dramatically."

"Ahhh, that explains it ... and why his cloak was so singed when I caught him up." Severus said. "She alerted me to the fact that Quirrell had headed for the forest. I thought he was trying to run from the scene of the crime, and gave chase. Tried to hit him with Incarcerous, and he dodged it like he was Filius. Then he started flinging Dark spells even I would hesitate to use. And the longer the fight went, the better he got at them. And the more familiar the fighting style got. I'd realized who I was truly fighting about a minute before you arrived. To be perfectly honest, Headmaster, I was rather surprised that none of the Unforgivables featured in that fight."

"I must apologize for my own tardy arrival." Dumbledore said. "I was not aware there was a problem until the ward alarms went off, and it took me a minute or two to find out what was going on ... and where." He sighed. "If this year is any indication of things to come, I fear it will become necessary to raise the wartime wards."

"That would probably be wise, Headmaster. And my thanks for coming to my rescue. What little I remember of your part of the battle was rather ... spectacular."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Hagrid is in quite the state, as are the centaurs. It will be quite some time before that area is fully put to rights."

Severus snorted. "I've no doubt. Harry mentioned something about all classes being dismissed for the week?"

"Yes. The aurors are investigating the attack ... Poppy's been forcing them to stay away on pain of her wrath until she clears you for questioning. The students are in no shape to pay attention to classes at this point, especially your Slytherins, so attempting to run classes as normal would be foolhardy, at least until the aurors have finished their inquiries."

Severus nodded. "With luck, I'll be on my feet by the time classes begin again." He ignored Dumbledore's disbelieving look. "But I'll be .. requesting ... the assistance of one or two of my less detestable seventh years, as I have little doubt that chasing after ignorant, dunderheaded first years will be quite beyond me."

Dumbledore, of course, got the message ... if Severus wasn't cleared for teaching, have certain of his seventh years watch over the first, second, and third years (preferably doing book study only, not practicals!) until he was, since it was likely to only be a difference of a few days or a week. He trusted the sixth and seventh years to keep to their books on their own. What Dumbledore would do with the fourth and fifth years, he wasn't certain, but at least it was a partial solution.

"I think that would be a splendid precaution, Severus. Do let me know which of your students you would prefer to assist you when you're up to it. And now, I had best be on my way. I imagine you'll be cleared for questioning later today, so you ought to rest while you can." And Dumbledore gave Severus a pat on the shoulder before disappearing beyond the curtains.

Moments later, Harry scurried in, curling back up in the seat next to Severus' bed. Severus half expected the boy to talk his ear off, but Harry seemed to be content to keep his nose in the book he'd brought with him ... one of the books he'd gotten for Christmas, Severus realized when he spotted the title. Within a very few minutes, he drifted off to sleep again.

The next couple of days were quiet ones, at least in the infirmary, broken only by an extended visit by the aurors for both Harry and Severus. Poppy was ... highly amused when she discovered that Harry's presence seemed to be having a mitigating effect on Severus' normally highly snappish and stubborn behavior when injured or sick.

For his part, Harry was rather grateful for the quiet and the change of pace, as it gave him time to read some of the books he'd gotten for Christmas. Books he found fascinating. The one on house elves had been the thinnest, and the one he'd read first. There had been nothing on how or why the house elves had become bound, but there'd been plenty on everything else.

House elves lived under a small number of deceptively simple laws. They were forbidden from entering any private domicile except with the permission of both their owner and the domicile's owner. They were forbidden to remove anything that did not rightfully belong to their owner from its present location. They were forbidden to attack any sentient being except in defense of their master's life. They had to obey their master's orders (except, of course, where said orders broke another law). They were forbidden to divulge family affairs or secrets to outsiders. They could only be freed if an item of clothing went directly from owner to elf ... if the item of clothing came to rest anywhere other than the elf, the elf could pick it up (and clean it/put it away) without being freed.

A well-treated elf followed those rules to a surprising degree. They were known to sacrifice their own lives in defense of their family even if not called for, or to consider anything and everything the family did a family secret, and therefore not to be spoken of to outsiders, even when ordered to speak honestly to an authority figure outside the family. And they would instantly re-bind themselves to their master in the event of an accidental meeting of elf and clothing. In the rare instances where they did something wrong enough to be deliberately freed and then refused readmittance into the family, they generally died of shame and self-neglect.

A badly treated elf could and did interpret the laws they lived under in highly creative ways. Granted, this often backfired in demands for them to punish themselves, but they could, and did, defy the rules to a surprising degree while still actually obeying the rules. If they were in especially dire straits, they would actively hide near their owners, waiting for a carelessly thrown item of clothing with which they could free themselves.

Hogwarts, with its 500+ population during the school year, was (and had been since its founding) a house-elf haven. Abused elves that managed to free themselves invariably ended up there, where they were put back to rights and bonded to the Headmaster/mistress. Generally speaking, elves had a lifespan of about two to three hundred years. How couples formed was a mystery, though it was suspected that the elves met in public locations or even Hogwarts now and again so that single elves could meet others. Couples only had kids late in life, and the number of elf kids born each year matched the number of deaths, which kept the house-elf population at a steady level. The kids were presented to the owner, or in the case of elves from separate owners, one child was presented to each owner, at about ten years of age to be named and bound. The binding process was startlingly simple, amounting to a drop of blood and an incantation.

House elves were also surprisingly strong, magically speaking. Wizards had never discovered a method to prevent an elf from popping into anyplace in existence, should their owner call for them, regardless of any wards placed, including the Fidelius. They could also, if asked, transport up to six persons through those self-same protections, which explained why the laws about not stealing or popping into places without being asked existed. While the bulk of their magic seemed geared towards domestic tasks, they were also capable of using defensive and offensive magic that, while strong, was limited to shields and a wave of force to knock attackers away. Bonded elves could (and usually did) run small chores outside the home, like buying some eggs for dinner or what have you, and as such were able to withdraw funds from their owners' vaults (at the owner's request only).

The book on magical buildings was a lot bigger. It seemed that any building exposed to wizards absorbed a bit of the magic wizards used with such abandon. Over time, depending on how many wizards there were and how much magic was done at that location, the absorbed magic became self-sustaining ... and the building became 'alive', for lack of a better word. Aware, on some level, of itself and its inhabitants. Hogwarts, while not the oldest school in existence (that honor went to a school in China), was nevertheless the most magical, 'aware' building in the world after a thousand years of children learning to wield magic within its walls. The Chinese school had been destroyed multiple times in the wars that tore that region apart throughout history, and had to be rebuilt, explaining why it did not surpass Hogwarts in its 'awareness'.

Buildings that become 'aware' would (and frequently did) act in defense of their inhabitants, using their magic to animate pretty much anything and everything not nailed down (and even some stuff that was) within the building. That helped explain, to Harry, how Potter Manor got so utterly trashed when the Death Eaters managed to get inside the castle. Further, a building that was exposed to only one family for a long enough time became tied to that family, and once it became 'aware', formed its own wards over itself and the land around it that would refuse any non-related person entrance no matter what they tried if the family was not in residence. This, of course, had led to the loss of several very old homes, as pureblood families died out. In every case, the home couldn't even be found anymore, nevermind be gotten into by any means. Interestingly, the Head of House could, in times of war, 'commune' with the house and get it to raise the family-only wards as an additional protection.

The third book was the most precious to Harry, though, as it was a (relatively brief) history of his family. The Potters had, apparently, existed pretty much since the invention of writing. The first magical Potter had actually been the clan laird, back in the mists of time prior to Hogwarts' existence. The man had only stumbled across the truth of what he was and what he could do in adulthood, and had managed to find another wizard to tutor him in the arts that existed at the time. Two of the laird's sons (one of them the eldest and heir) had also ended up being magical, and the wizarding Potters were born.

Clan fidelity and honor being what it was back then, the wizarding branch of the Potters had retained close ties to the nonmagical branches for a very, very long time, well past the time when the Statute of Secrecy came into being. In point of fact, during the innumerable wars between the Scots and everyone else, Potter Manor had been a refuge for muggle, wizard, and squib alike. During the witch-hunting eras, when fully half of all muggleborn children either did not survive to get schooling or their parents refused to send them for tutoring, the Potters were able to find and smuggle away a small number of these endangered children, providing them with a safe home at the Manor. Until the last couple centuries, there had hardly been a time when Potter Manor hadn't been filled with people. It was only when attrition had reduced the number of Potters to one or two per generation that the Potters began to withdraw from active interference in muggle and muggleborn affairs and the Manor began to empty. Even then, the Potters had always maintained a muggle/muggleborn friendly stance in the Wizengamot, fighting to keep laws as fair and open as possible, given the increasingly antagonistic environment.

Harry was startled to discover that the Potters, like every other pureblood family, could boast of a relationship (to varying degrees) with the Hogwarts Founders. All four of them, as all four Founders had had children, and purebloods had a tendency to intermarry to an insane degree. Generally speaking, there was apparently a tendency to have more of one Founder than another, especially in the case of Gryffindor/Slytherin. Where there was a lot of one, the other was all but nonexistent. The Potters, apparently, had more Gryffindor in the line than most, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw essentially tying for second and Slytherin a distant third.

He was pleased to discover that it had evidently been a family mandate since the invention of 'living' portraits for every Potter and their spouses to sit for at least one. Harry hadn't seen that many portraits at the Manor, but then, he'd not explored every floor, or the vaults yet. Which reminded him that they needed to look for his parents' portrait. It helped, a little, to know that he was not as devoid of family as he'd always thought. Oh, the portraits weren't the actual people, but they, apparently, came damn close to it, the portrait's emotional attachments, temperament and actions echoing what the person would have had in life. So he'd get to know his family for himself, at least somewhat.

Severus had spent most of the first two or three days sleeping and giving Pomphrey death glares, which Harry had found amusing. By the third day, the naps were decreasing in length and the time Severus was awake was increasing, and Harry started spending time talking to him, about whatever came to mind. He got snarled at more than once, but apparently Severus appreciated the distraction because after the snarl, he'd indulge Harry with at least a short comment or two. Pomphrey, for reasons Harry couldn't quite seem to figure out, always seemed a bit amused when she came to check on Severus and feed him potions.

HPHPHP

Severus was surprised to find himself both not annoyed by Harry's constant presence, and highly amused by the boy's complete, utter, bullheaded refusal to be driven from the Infirmary, no matter the provocation. Severus also found himself making an effort to curb the worst of his vituperativeness when confined to the Infirmary for any reason. Certainly, Harry helped keep the worst of the boredom at bay, asking quiet questions now and again, usually when Severus found himself getting restless with being stuck in bed.

It was only the restarting of classes on day four that finally drove Harry from the Infirmary ... with much complaining from Harry, and a raftload of arguing and reassurances by Pomphrey, Dumbledore, and Severus himself. Severus found himself oddly touched by Harry's concern. Oh, Minerva and Poppy cared, he knew that, but he'd long since come to the conclusion that they would be the only ones.

He was completely unprepared for the reception he got when he finally was released from the Infirmary after lunch on day five, and made his way to the dungeons to check on his Snakes. They, normally reserved even behind the closed door of the dorm, converged on him in a rush of overlapping greetings and clear relief that he was back on his feet.

For the last few days, Severus had been contemplating how best to use the whole Quirrell mess when it came to his Snakes. He had long ago resigned himself to riding the fence, and watching most of his Snakes slip through his fingers and right into Voldemort's grasp. As a spy, he would have been unable to make any kind of play strong enough to keep all but the most reluctant from accepting the Mark. Now, however, with his own situation changed and Voldemort, in whatever form, on the move once more, he might be able to get through to most of them. And the fact Lucius was not screaming the school down because he'd found out Severus had played him (which he would have, if Draco was reporting everything to his father) meant that there was, indeed, hope.

"There will be a House meeting tonight at curfew. Everyone is to attend. No exceptions, no excuses." Severus told them. "The events of the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor match and the fight afterwards will be explained at that time, as I have no desire to repeat myself multiple times."

His reception at dinner that evening had Severus deeply amused. When he stalked in with his usual flair, the volume of chatter abruptly trebled, and practically every eye in the room was on him as he took his seat. Minerva, next to him, gave an amused snort.

"I'm glad to see you back on your feet, Severus. Did Poppy say when you would be permitted to teach again?"

Severus grimaced. "Not for another week." He growled. Privately, he agreed with the assessment. While he had energy enough to walk around and probably to do patrolling in the evenings, keeping up with twenty-eight classes and around three hundred students (give or take) would be well beyond him for another few days at the least. Of course, he would never admit that, to anyone. "I fully intend to be back in the classroom within three days." He grumped.

HPHPHP

Three days later he did, in fact, resume some of his classes. Sort of. He started consulting with his seventh years, who could all be trusted to work individually without blowing themselves or the lab to smithereens, even if he never admitted that. After checking on their progress during his absence, he checked with the sixth years, and gave them an assignment to work on for their first actual class with him the following week.

He'd gotten all the papers graded long before he'd checked with the seventh years, which meant he had a lot of free time. He spent most of it, to his chagrin, putting his head together with Lupin in an attempt to figure out what the deal was with the map and Pettigrew. Thus far, they'd been unable to pin the ghost down ... if, indeed, that was what it was. Consultations with Sir Nicholas, the Fat Friar and the Bloody Baron produced nothing ... evidently, they'd not seen a new ghost about, nor heard of any of the other ghosts encountering one. As ghosts could, and did, move about invisibly, this wasn't conclusive proof, but it was highly vexing, for both men. Severus was beginning to suspect that, all of Lupin's examinations be damned, the map had developed a fault somehow.

"There's nothing for it. We're going to have to set up a watch or trap in Harry's dorm. That's where we've seen him the most." Lupin said with a sigh. "If the map's gone twisted, there won't be anything, but if it hasn't, that's our best chance of catching him and talking to him."

Severus was inclined to agree. The problem lay in setting the trap. If he went anywhere near Gryffindor Tower, the brats would run straight to McGonagall. It would mean depending on Lupin. As a former Gryffindor himself, not to mention honorary uncle to Harry, his presence in the Tower wouldn't be as remarked upon.

It took until nearly a week after Severus had resumed teaching classes for the two of them to work out a method to 'catch' Pettigrew. It was decided that until they knew for sure there was a ghost, any contraptions to actually catch one were going a bit overboard. They settled instead for a camera, Stuck to a corner against the ceiling by the door, where it would be able to photograph the entire room. Lupin Disillusioned it so the kids wouldn't see it and try to take it down. The tricky part, which is what took so long, was figuring out how to remotely snap a picture at the right time. Lupin also figured out a way to keep the flash from being seen, and therefore possibly scaring the ghost off (if there was one). Now all they had to do was sit back and wait.

It took three days for them to catch Pettigrew in Harry's room alone. The next day, Lupin showed up in Severus' lab and they processed the film to see what, if anything, showed up.

There was nothing. No hint of a ghost, nothing.

"Bloody hell. I guess the Map has gone faulty." Lupin said with a sigh, staring at the pictures. "Nothing to indicate a ghost's there all."

Severus, glowering at his own share of the photographs, gave a grim nod. "Nothing moving at all, apparently, except for the Weasley boy's pet."

Remus glanced over. "Oh? There's nothing in these. What is his pet?"

"A rat." Severus grumbled.

Remus froze. "A rat? Severus, do you have the list of where Pettigrew was at for each shot?"

"Yes, right here, why?"

Lupin didn't say a word, just grabbed the list and the photographs, staring from one to the other. Most of the shots, calibrated to catch a much slower moving ghost had missed catching the fast-moving rat on film, but one of the ones in Severus' pile had managed to just barely catch the rat ... and the list they'd kept of where Pettigrew had been for each shot (for comparison purposes) matched up.

"My god." Lupin whispered. "It can't be."

"Lupin." Severus snarled a warning.

Remus gave his head a shake, his tone torn between disbelief and horror. "I can't ... this is ... " He took a deep breath. "They became animagi." No need to clarify who. "So they could be with me safely, during the full moon. James was a stag. B- ." Another somewhat shaky breath. "Sirius was a big black dog. Peter was a rat." Then he looked up at Severus, expression oddly flat, mostly because he wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. Horror, dismay, confusion ... that and more.

"A rat." Severus was not slow to comprehend the implications, given what they'd been working on. "And you did not think it important to share that information?"

"What use would it have been? James is dead, Sirius is in Azkaban, and Peter dead." Then he glanced at the photo. "Or so I thought. He supposedly got blown up. There was no reason to bring it up."

"Can you positively identify him?" Severus wanted to know.

"If he was in front of me, yes. He's a bit too far away in the pictures." Remus told him.

For a long moment, the two men stood there, staring at each other grimly. If Peter was alive ... it changed everything. Everything!

"We're going to have to catch that rat." Severus growled.

"Agreed. It will be easy enough to find out if he's Peter if we manage to catch him."

It took them another two days to prepare. Severus wished they could turn a rat treat into a portkey, but to do so would involve the Headmaster in what might yet be a wild goose chase. Instead, he brewed a fast-acting sleeping potion and filled the center of several treats with it. These were then left scattered about Harry's room in likely places.

Fortunately, the rat didn't run about much unless the boys were elsewhere. The next morning, when the first-year Gryffindors were in Transfiguration, the rat quite literally took the bait, and Lupin raced up there to seal the rat into a container for later examination. At lunch, he and Severus met in Severus' office, the rat in a cage large enough to contain a person on the floor, the bars close enough to keep the rat from escaping, and the whole thing spelled impervious, to keep a man from breaking out. In the center of the cage lay a sleeping rat. Both men stood there, staring at it.

"It's him." Lupin said, his voice vibrating with emotion. "I'd know him anywhere."

"He'll wake soon, and then we'll find out just what's going on." Severus couldn't contain a growl of his own. This ... if it was Peter, what in the name of hell was he doing alive? Had Black missed? If so, why had Peter not shown himself? There were entirely too many questions.

A few minutes later, the rat awoke, got one good look at where he was and who was on the outside of the cage staring at him and completely freaked out, racing around the cage, scrabbling at the bars in an attempt to escape. It took Severus and Remus nearly two minutes to successfully hit the frantic rat with the animagus-revealing spell. Once they managed to connect, however, they watched as the rat did, indeed, morph and twist into a human. A male. And while it had been over a decade, and Severus had not ever paid much attention to Pettigrew (who had been far too timid to confront him ... that had been mostly Black, with a large helping from Potter) even he could see the resemblances between this pathetic creature and the boy he'd known. Beside him, Lupin was glaring daggers at Peter.

"R-Remus! S-S-Severus! So g-g-good to see you! I-it's been so l-long!" Peter stammered. Severus noted he was keeping as far from the two of them as he could get in the cage.

"Pettigrew." Severus purred. "It is a ... disagreeable shock ... to see you. Alive. After all, it has been said that you were blown up. Imagine our surprise when we discovered otherwise. Tell me, Peter ... why were you hiding?" While most people would have thought Severus was being polite enough (at least for him) anyone that knew him would have been able to hear the threats that were going unsaid.

Pettigrew started a fast ramble that made little to no sense. Exasperated, Severus snapped off a spell, ripping Peter's robes off his left arm. And there, for all the world to see, was the only proof Severus would ever need of what had really happened that night.

For a long moment, there was complete silence in the room as the full import of Peter bearing the Mark settled in. Dimly, Severus was stunned to find himself shoulder to shoulder with Lupin ... who was growling and snarling fit to kill. Severus could not see his eyes, but he could well imagine they were gold, rather than brown, just now ... and found it odd that he was not trying to put as much space between himself and the wolf as was humanly possible. But then, the vast majority of his attention was on Pettigrew. He was surprised to realize that his wand was lit with ... well, he wasn't exactly sure what spell, but given his frame of mind just at the moment, it couldn't be anything but Dark.

He had never, would never, forgive himself for bringing the prophecy to Voldemort and thus bringing the Potters ... bringing Lily! ... to his attention. He had done all he could to mitigate that mistake at the time, had even been secretly relieved when the Potters went under Fidelius. When they had been betrayed, and, seemingly, by Black, his rage had known no bounds. Black had always been his bitterest enemy of the Marauders. Oh, James came a close second, especially in their fourth and fifth years, but Black ... Black had held a special hatred for all things Slytherin and 'Dark'. Unfortunately for Severus, he had been the only one in Slytherin House with no allies, making him a far easier target for Black's effusions. And while the man may have managed to get into Gryffindor, there was no amount of will that could undo centuries of breeding ... Courage Black may have had, but he'd also had far more of Slytherin's more brutal qualities than he ever would have admitted to.

After the debacle in fifth year, it had been easy for Severus, of all people, to believe Black guilty of betraying the Potters. After all, the boy'd damn near succeeded in what would have been a double murder ... Severus', and then later, when he was executed for attacking a wizard, Remus'. That he'd put an apparent best friend in such mortal danger had made it easy for Severus to believe that he would betray a friend a second time. Since then, the only thing that had kept Severus from going to Azkaban and extracting his revenge for Lily's death had been the sure knowledge that not only was Black living in eternal torment in that hideous place, but if he attempted to kill the man, Severus would find himself in cell next door.

Now ... well ... he still hated Black. Probably always would, for the events of their school years. But now ... now everything he'd thought he'd known had been turned on its ear, and the true perpetrator of the Potters' betrayal was mere inches in front of him. It was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed not to kill Pettigrew then and there. With a vicious, foul oath, he whirled and stalked to his fireplace, throwing the powder in with far more force than necessary.

"Headmaster, get down here. Now. And bring the head of the DMLE. And tell her to bring some Veritaserum." He, of course, had his own, but Bones would likely want to use her own stock, so she could be sure of its efficacy.

"Severus? What on earth?" Albus said, sounding startled.

"Bones, you, and Veritaserum. Now, Headmaster." Severus repeated.

Evidently, this time, Dumbledore picked up on Severus' tone, because he nodded and retreated. It was a long half-hour wait before Albus walked through the office door, with Amelia Bones and two Aurors.

"Severus? Remus? Whatever in the world?" Dumbledore stared at the cage, and the man within it, eyebrows abruptly going through his hairline. "Peter." He breathed, sounding as stunned as Severus had felt. "Peter Pettigrew." Then he looked over at Severus. "Perhaps you would explain?"

So they did, trading the story back and forth. The twins, the map, talking to the ghosts, the decision to put the camera in the boys' dorm room and the results. The effort to trap the rat.

"As you can see ... he bears the Dark Mark." Severus finished, fairly snarling the words. "I have begun to think that perhaps Black might have been wrongfully convicted."

"Indeed, my boy, indeed. Director Bones, if you would?"

Amelia was glaring at Pettigrew nearly as much as Severus and Remus were. "Quite." She shot a spell at Pettigrew (who had been blubbering all the while, though they had ignored him) and Pettigrew froze up. They created a door in the cage so one of the aurors could go in and administer the Veritaserum, then the door was closed and transformed back into plain wall. That done, the petrification was reversed.

"What is your name?" Amelia demanded.

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"Who was the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter?"

"I was."

At that point, Severus closed his eyes for a moment as rage and pain swamped him. Oh, he'd known it had to have been this way, but to have it confirmed! Beside him, Lupin was growling softly, evidently much of the same mind.

"Did you willingly reveal the whereabouts of James and Lily Potter to Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"Did you kill the Muggles the night Sirius Black confronted you about your betrayal?"

"Yes."

Amelia was glaring at Pettigrew fit to kill. "That's all we need to know. Give him the antidote. The rest, we can dig out at his trial. We're going to need to get Black out of Azkaban, as quickly as possible. I fear it will be too late for his sanity, but it will be the least we can do. I don't understand how this happened!"

The antidote was administered, and Peter transferred to the Auror's care. Given that he could become a rat, they simply detached the cage Severus and Remus had created from the castle floor, ensured it would hold no matter what, and levitated the lot out of the room.

"We're going to have to tell him." Remus said, quietly. "This is going to bring everything up for public consumption, and it's better he find it out from us, than from the Daily Prophet."

"Agreed." Severus said. He'd known that he'd have to explain at some point, but he'd hoped to delay it until the summer. He should have known that the fates would not humor him. "We'll tell him this weekend."

HPHPHP

That weekend ended up being that night. Harry was no fool, and it was literally impossible to keep any event within the castle a secret for long, unless that event went wholly unobserved by student, staff, ghost or portrait. This event, of course, had not gone unobserved. The Headmaster escorting the head of the DMLE and two aurors to the dungeons, and then escorting them ... and a man in a cage ... back out the main doors was the talk of the castle within the hour. Harry, intensely curious as to what had happened, made his way to Severus' office door, hoping the man didn't have anyone in detention tonight.

"Severus?" He called, as he knocked on the frame of Severus' office door. Then, with a blink. "Oh! Hi Remus, didn't expect to see you down here."

Severus, who'd been in a quite foul mood and had thus postponed his detentions (and marking) for later, lest his foul temper get unleashed on the undeserving, had been having a quiet drink (well, Lupin had been imbibing. Severus stuck to tea, though he was strongly tempted by the thought of firewhiskey). He glanced over at the door. "Hello, Harry." Then, with a somewhat amused look and a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose you are here to inquire as to my knowledge of the day's unusual events?"

"Pretty much." Harry said. "There's all sorts of rumors going around."

"Of course there is." Severus said, the amusement a bit stronger. He watched as Harry came to take a seat, and then flicked his wand at his office door, before setting quite a few wards. "There. There is something, Harry, that the three of us need to speak about. I had planned on telling you this summer, but events have transpired to force me to speak of it earlier."

"Ummm ... ok." Harry glanced at Remus.

Remus seemed a bit amused at Harry's caution and suspicion. "Yes, this has to do with our school days, Harry."

"I know you and dad didn't much like Severus ... " Harry started.

"And the dislike was entirely mutual." Severus admitted. "I have never been what most individuals would call plain, never mind attractive. As an adolescent, I was ... " He sighed. "Rather unfortunately put together, and had a less than friendly disposition. I was also exceedingly poor. Your father had inherited the full measure of Potter good looks, charisma, and of course money. He had been a late child, and from all accounts, spoiled rotten because of it."

Remus took up the tale at that point. "I think James and Severus might have settled into a comfortable, slightly competition, if things had worked out differently. For all Severus' lacks, he more than made up for them in sheer ability and intelligence. Unfortunately, James ended up becoming friends with a rather ... unexpected person, and that made matters a great deal worse. You see, he made friends with a man named Sirius Black. The Blacks are ... well, were, one of the Darkest families in the Wizarding world. They have long espoused extermination of muggles, muggleborns, and pretty much every sentient magical being in existence, in favor of purebloods. They've also been Slytherins, for generations. There have been a handful or so of rebels in the family, especially in the latest generations ... Alphard, Andromeda, Dorea, and Sirius, to name the ones I know of right off hand. They all decided on their own that the Blacks were a bit mad, and went their own ways. Andromeda had the effrontery to be sorted into Hufflepuff and later marry a muggleborn, Dorea dared to marry a Potter, your grandfather Charlus, and Sirius ... well, he committed the greatest crime of all, as far as the Blacks were concerned. He got sorted into Gryffindor, and openly repudiated his family for their political and moral stances. He hated them with everything in him, and even ran away when he was sixteen. He ended up living with your dad, at the Manor."

Harry blinked. "Why haven't you guys mentioned him before now, if he was such a close friend?"

"That's where things start to get ... complicated. You see, Sirius was ... rather brash and unthinking, and, sad to say, more than a bit of a bully. He hated Slytherin and everything that it stood for, at least according to Family Black, and he took every opportunity to make the Slytherins' lives hell." Lupin explained.

"And Severus got caught in the middle of it?"

"Quite." Severus said. "It did not help that I was, at that time, close friends with your mother. James became quite fond of her very early on, and I think Black saw me as a challenger for her affections." Oh, how he had wished, but even in his earliest school days, he'd known the chances of that happening were nil. Not that he could prevent himself from falling for her. "And I had no allies within Slytherin, so I was a somewhat easier target than most. During this time, Voldemort was quite active, but the horrors he perpetrated were kept ... divorced ... from his recruitment attempts with the upcoming generation. He was a very charismatic man, and had the ability to reel most anyone in. Once in ... " Severus shuddered. "There was no backing out. At least, not publicly. Sirius' brother, who became a Death Eater, was summarily murdered when he tried to back out. Insofar as I know, there was only one person to have succeeded in evading death after switching their loyalty from Voldemort to Dumbledore." Severus could only hope Harry didn't hate him for this.

Harry was eyeing the two of them, and Severus could almost see the cogs in the boy's head whirling. "It was you, wasn't it?" He finally asked, looking at Severus. "I mean, I've heard rumors, since the first day ... "

"It was indeed." Severus said. "There is no excuse for my having joined him. My only defense is that very shortly after I realized what he truly was and what he was willing to do to achieve his aims, I went straight to Dumbledore. I spied for him for a bit over a year, and then he was ... well, whatever happened to him the night he went after you."

Harry was still putting the pieces together. "It was mum, wasn't it? You found out he was after her."

Severus was a bit surprised that Harry was putting it all together. Of course, Harry lacked certain facts, like the existence of the prophecy, but he'd come remarkably close to knitting together the truth from the bits he'd been given. "Yes. And again, this is where it got tangled. You see, your parents knew he was after them. They went into hiding, under a spell called the Fidelius. This spell removes all knowledge of the person, place, or thing being protected from everyone, save that it existed, if they knew of it before the spell was cast. The catch is that the secret is held by someone in such a way that the only way for the secret to be discovered is if the person willingly divulges the information. That they are willing under duress doesn't matter. Back then, the secret could not be held by the person being protected, if it was a person, nor by anyone who would go to the protected location where the Fidelius was cast, though after your parents' death, that particular problem was worked out, and the spell can now be cast by the person seeking the protection of Fidelius, or who will spend a great deal of time in the protected location."

"And Black was the one they trusted with the secret." Harry guessed, looking more than a little angry.

"That's what we believed at the time." Remus said. "They didn't want to give it to me, because of my lycanthropy. It would have put me into a very dangerous position. Sirius was the obvious choice, and when everything happened ... " Remus shrugged helplessly. "Sirius was tried and ended up in jail."

"But early last year, about a week after you first became my ward, the Weasley twins came to me with an artifact they'd had in their possession since their first year, that showed the name of your father's fourth friend ... someone we had all thought that Sirius had killed when the other friend went to confront him, wandering the castle."

"At first we thought it was a ghost." Remus admitted. "But then we discovered it wasn't. Peter Pettigrew, whom everyone thought Sirius Black had killed, was alive. And it turned out that he was the real traitor. I'm not at all sure of the details at this point, as we caught him just this morning, but he's already at the Ministry being questioned and tried. They're also getting Sirius out of Azkaban, but whether he will be at all sane is anyone's guess."

"Why would he be insane?" Harry wanted to know.

"It's the guards of Azkaban. Dementors. They're foul creatures that feed on every good emotion, leaving nothing but the bad behind." Remus explained. "It tends to drive people insane after a while, though how long it takes varies from person to person."

Harry frowned. "That's awful! Why do they do that?"

Severus glanced at Remus. "They do it because there are few ways of containing a wizard who truly wants free, even if they are deprived of a wand. The dementors keep the prisoners from contemplating means of escape." Severus explained.

"So that's why you're telling me?"

"That and because all the known details and speculations and rumors of events surrounding your parents' deaths are going to be in the papers for quite a while. For an innocent to be condemned to Azkaban is huge. That it is a scion of an Ancient and Noble house like the Blacks ... well, the furor will be slow to die down, and we thought it better you find out the truth from us, rather than a boatload of rumors, speculations, and lies mixed in with the occasional truth that will likely be in the paper." Remus said. "Amon which facts is that Sirius is your godfather. It's a position of some weight in the Wizarding world, especially with older families. In the event of the death of the child's family, it falls to the godparents to raise the child, and to instruct them in the etiquette and protocol of the upper echelons of society, as well as estate management and other such details." Remus answered.

"Oh." Harry said. "Will he ... " He gave Severus an uncertain look.

"You will remain my ward, Harry. In the exceedingly unlikely case of Black retaining his wits, he will still have a very long recuperation from his incarceration, during which time he will be unable to see to your needs fully. As for the requirements of your station in society, as I am not aware of their full measure, I have written to Madame Longbottom, Neville's grandmother, and she has agreed to instruct you in such matters this coming summer."

"Oh! That means I'll get to spend some time with Neville this summer." Harry was pleased with that idea, even if the concept of classes during the summer was greeted with less enthusiasm.

But the next morning at breakfast, there was not so much as a word in the Daily Prophet about Pettigrew or Black or ... well, anything having to do with the whole mess. This confused Severus. But his alarms did not truly begin to go off until he realized that Dumbledore had not returned to the castle since carting Pettigrew off, at which point Severus knew there was trouble at the Ministry. Why, though, was the question. What was going on?

He didn't manage to catch Dumbledore at all that day, even lurking near the stairs to his office until quite late. The next morning saw the man at the breakfast table again, though. Severus took a good look at him and felt a frisson of alarm. Dumbledore looked ... exhausted, heart-weary, and almost ... defeated. The aggravating twinkle was wholly absent. He was more than slightly slump-shouldered and seemed overly preoccupied with a plate of food from which he never actually ate.

Severus soon discovered why, when the owls delivered the mail. The Prophet seemed to be equally divided between two different headlines. "Black Innocent!" and "Corruption in the Ministry!". Severus perused the articles ... and very nearly dropped the paper into his plate. No wonder Dumbledore seemed so upset. It seemed that Black had, actually, never been tried. He'd simply been tossed into Azkaban ... on the orders of Barty Crouch. That, Severus could believe, remembering how hard Dumbledore had had to fight to keep Severus out of Crouch's clutches. Several other figures were named as instrumental in the mess, including the previous minister, Bagnold, and several high-level Aurors of the day. To say that the pureblood elite were screaming to the heavens was, evidently, to vastly understate the case. The entirety of the remaining Ancient and Noble (or simply ancient) Houses were calling for Crouch and the aurors' blood, as Bagnold had died since her days as Minister. A vote of no confidence had already been demanded, and would be carried out later today. Severus realized that Dumbledore was probably blaming himself for what had happened. In all honesty, given how busy Dumbledore had been defending Severus, hiding Harry, and putting out various flames in the community, it did not surprise Severus that Crouch managed to sneak something like this past the man. In the meantime, Black had, evidently, already been removed from Azkaban, but was not at St. Mungo's.

Severus supposed the man was somewhere in the castle, a choice he could not, in all honestly, blame Dumbledore for, if the furor over Black's illegal incarceration was as bad as the paper made it seem to be (which, for once, he had a feeling the Prophet might be understating the impact, rather than blowing it out of proportion), Black would be hounded to the ten hells, rather than be allowed to recover as best he might. Of course, the fact that he would doubtlessly be required to brew potions for Black galled him, but even Severus' overdeveloped sense of vengeance didn't see fit to be more than annoyed. A decade in Azkaban went a long way to paying the debt Severus felt Black owed him.

"Headmaster." He said. "I presume Black's lack of presence at St. Mungo means he's in the castle?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, he is. Given the situation at the Ministry, I felt it safer to bring him here, and Director Bones agreed with me. He is doing ... remarkably well, considering how long he's been there. He shows no signs of having taken leave of his senses. He mentioned he spent much of his time in his animagus form, which might explain it."

Severus snorted. "I'll consult with Poppy later to see what the mutt needs."

Dumbledore glanced over at him, faintly surprised. "Thank you, Severus. I had thought to have to argue you into making the needed potions."

Severus snorted. "I will never like the mutt, but his debt to me seems to have been paid."

Dumbledore nodded. He, of course, also realized that Severus' hate of Black had been deeply exacerbated by his belief that Black had betrayed Lily to her death. "He's been asking for Harry almost nonstop." Dumbledore admitted.

Severus snorted. "I'll not have him near the boy until Poppy confirms he's sane and lucid."

"Of course not. Does Harry even know?"

"Yes, we told him the day we caught Pettigrew." Severus told him.

"Ahhh, good." Dumbledore said.

They sat for a moment in relative silence. Their relationship was still strained, but Dumbledore's defense of him in the fight with Voldemort-Quirrell had gone far in soothing the worst of Severus' ire. Too, it had helped, the last few days, to remember just how frantic everything had been in the days, weeks, and even months after the Potters' deaths. He may have succumbed to grief and apathy during that period, not caring for much of anything (even his own hide and fate) but he knew that things had been more than a bit insane, and Dumbledore had done as best he could under the circumstances. After breakfast, he headed for the infirmary, twisting his features into the spiteful, hate-filled expression that had become rather disused over the last few months. Better for Black to see him as he expected to see him, rather than the truth, at least right off.

Poppy greeted him the moment he swept through the doors, one eyebrow cocked at his expression, then pulled him to a side room. Within, on a bed ... was the most pitiable sight Severus had ever seen. Black had always been good looking. Now, Severus fancied that even Filch looked better. Black was just shy of being skeletal, his skin more pallid even than Severus' own, tinged an unhealthy greenish-yellow, the hair he'd once been so proud of a tangled, befouled mess than hung well down his back, and he looked and smelled as if he'd not had so much as a freshening charm in the entire decade he'd been within Azkaban's walls.

Despite his horrendous appearance, Severus quickly realized that Dumbledore had been correct. Black was still very much there, very much aware. Though he'd clearly suffered physically, his eyes still snapped with intelligence, and the moment he spotted Severus, angry malice.

"Come to gloat, have you, Snivellus?" Black rasped, his voice hardly a shadow of what it had once been.

Severus sneered. "Believe what you will of me, Black. You always have."

"Where's Harry? I think ... if I was counting time right, he'd be here now. Where is he?" Black demanded.

"You have indeed counted correctly ... a feat which I had believed you incapable of. Perhaps your time in Azkaban has done you some good after all." Severus growled. "As for your godson, he is here, but you shall not be seeing him for quite some time."

That had Black trying to scramble out of the bed, face twisted with hate and anger. "You greasy bastard! You're holding him hostage!" Fortunately, (or unfortunately) he was in no shape to go much of anywhere, and sank back into the bed after a few moments' struggle.

Poppy gave Severus a death-glare for agitating Sirius, but Severus ignored her for the moment. He had a method to his apparent madness.

"Of course I am, you idiot. And right under Dumbledore's nose, too." Severus scoffed. "I know it is an activity with which you are unfamiliar, Black, but do try to think for once in your life. You're a mess. If Harry came in here right now you'd scare him half to death, if the stench rolling off you didn't get him first. Once you have bathed and been deloused, and Poppy is sure that you retain whatever wits you were born with, you will be permitted to see him, and not before then."

"And you have a say in it why?" Black demanded.

Severus was going to enjoy this. "I am the boy's guardian."

Black, predictably, howled in rage. "WHAT!"

"Oh, you would have preferred his previous guardians? You might know one of them. Her name was Petunia."

Black's face instantly became a mask of horror. "Oh sweet Merlin. They didn't." He rasped.

"They did." Severus said. "He was in Petunia's ... care ... for a decade. The only people who knew were Dumbledore and McGonagall. McGonagall mentioned the boy's placement to me, but I'd not known the woman had married, so the last name meant nothing to me. Needless to say, Black, when the boy came here and his ... situation ... was discovered, I acquainted the Headmaster with my ... displeasure. I would not have put you in that spiteful harridan's care, nevermind a defenseless child."

"Is he ... " Black rasped. He looked like he was not far from crying.

"He is remarkably resilient. And far more like his mother than his father in most respects, fortunately. He did, however, inherit Potter's skill on a broom." And why in the name of hell was Severus telling Black this, again? Severus sighed. Because he knew that, as much as they disliked each other, if Black was at all competent, which he seemed to be, Severus and Lupin would need all the help they could get keeping Harry in one piece. "He is, however, almost wholly ignorant of the wizarding world. Minerva and I have been working nonstop to correct that, but there are some things that neither she nor I are acquainted with."

Black grumbled. "Like pureblood pussyfooting. But why the hell are you helping him? You hated James! You're a damn Death Eater!"

"Was, Black, was, though I know you'll go to your death believing otherwise. And I have made that position quite plain since Harry's arrival here. As for the rest, Harry is Lily's son as well as Potter's." Severus said. And he really didn't need to say any more than that, because Black was well aware that Severus had been deeply fond of Lily, even if he wasn't aware of just how deep Severus' feelings for her went.

"And you've filled his head with lies about us, no doubt!" Sirius growled.

"Hardly, Black. The past has not come up overmuch in our discussions. I have, in point of fact, left that to Minerva. Unlike you, I am quite aware that my ability to present the facts without giving away my opinion of matters is limited when it comes to any of the Marauders." He sneered the name. Finally, he turned to Poppy. "Will you require assistance in cleaning the filth?"

Poppy humphed. "Hardly. And I'll thank you to leave now, so I can get it done, without you riling him up!"

Severus whirled and stalked out into the main infirmary. About an hour later, Poppy walked out, eyes sparking.

"What did you mean by doing that, Severus? I know you hate the man ... "

"And he hates me. And having someone or something to fight against will assist in his recovery." Severus snapped. "If having me around gets him on his feet faster, then so much the better."

Poppy eyed him off, then sighed. "You do have a point, but try not to rile him to the point of relapse!"

Severus snorted. "As if I wish to cater to that mutt's whims for an even longer period than is to be expected. Now, what is it he will need?"

Poppy rattled off a long list of potions, then sighed. "And I've got him eating as much chocolate as he's willing to tolerate, but Merlin alone knows if it will do any good after so long. Still, it's the only help for the aftereffects of being around Dementors."

Severus snorted. Not even he, with all his skill, had been able to find a more efficacious solution to Dementor exposure than Honeyduke's chocolate. "Quite. Though I imagine it will help him appear to be less a cadaver and more a living being, as well."

Poppy nodded her agreement. "It's a miracle he's still alive, nevermind apparently sane. Still, he's going to have a long road ahead of him before he's recovered ... if he ever fully recovers, that is."

"He'll fully recover, if for no other reason than to spite me." Severus said with a snort. "I'll be back this evening with the potions. Do keep an eye out for Harry, as I'm quite sure his curiosity will get the better of him at some point, and I do not want them meeting until we are surer of Black's lucidity."

"I had planned on keeping his door locked, both for his protection and everyone else's." Poppy agreed.

HPHPHP

Harry practically accosted Severus that evening. "Did you see the paper? How can they DO that to people?" He demanded.

Severus had to fight down an exceedingly biting comment, one eyebrow scaling towards his hairline as he regarded Harry.

Harry, to his credit, realized just how ridiculous what he'd said sounded, and waved a hand. "I know, I know. But it's just ... " He flapped a hand, running out of words. "I just ... it's so ... "

"Whenever you feel like saying something intelligent, Harry, do tell me." Severus couldn't quite help but comment. Harry's inarticulate outrage just begged for commentary, and there was only so much Severus could do to censor himself.

Harry huffed. "Just 'cause you can come up with twenty ways to say the same thing doesn't mean we all can, Severus!" but then grinned a little at the familiar snarking. After a bit, he sobered. "Is he, you know, all there?"

"No, but then he never was." Severus grumped. "That said, he seems to have retained what few wits he was born with. Whether or not that will hold true over the long term is yet to be determined. Once we are surer of his condition, you'll be permitted to see him, but that won't be for at least a week, probably two." It would take at least that long for Black to cease to resemble an animated, desiccated cadaver, nevermind the rest. "He has evidently been demanding to see you from the moment he got here."

Over the next two weeks, life took on a familiar, comfortable pattern wherein Severus got to snark, snarl, and otherwise rile Black to a froth. Black seemed to thoroughly enjoy throwing himself into the invectives, but Severus was surprised to discover that while he still did (and probably always would) greatly dislike Black, his heart wasn't really in the game. After all, in every way that mattered, Severus had already won, hadn't he? He was Harry's guardian, now, and Harry would live with him and it was to him that Harry turned for advice. He was the one that was going to raise the boy, from here on out.

Interestingly, the verbal sparring between them had changed tenor over the last few days, as if Black's heart wasn't really in it anymore, either. Why that might be, given Black's utter hatred of him in the past, Severus wasn't sure. It was just barely possible that his stint in Azkaban had knocked some sense into the man. Severus had also noticed Black eyeing him, like Black was trying to figure him out.

Finally, though, Black's recovery had reached a point where he didn't look quite so horrible ... his skin was now ghost-pale from lack of sun, but was finally devoid of the unhealthy greenish-yellow cast, and he'd put on a little weight, so he wasn't quite so skeletal, and his hair had been cleaned and cut to a more reasonable length. Too, Black was starting to have a bit more energy, and getting restless. And while he'd apparently had nightmares every night (which surprised Severus not a whit), and had also suffered some crying jags (never in Severus' presence, but Poppy had reported on it) early on, Black still showed no sign of being mentally unhinged.

Lupin was more ebullient than Severus had ever seen him, but then it stood to reason. After all, the wolf had got part of his pack back, hadn't he? Poppy had apparently had to prise Lupin off Black by force, and it amused Severus no small amount that Lupin had actually gone, when not all Poppy's threats or Dumbledore's reassurances had been enough to move Harry during Severus' convalescence.

Severus waited for a Saturday before he let Harry know a visit would be possible.

"So he's still all right?" Harry asked.

"As well as may be, physically. He'll be at least a year recovering in that aspect." Severus admitted. "But there is no sign of him suffering mental debility from his incarceration. I will, of course, be present for the visit."

Harry grinned over at him, and Severus could see the tension in Harry's shoulders ease.

HPHPHP

Harry didn't really know quite what to expect as he walked beside Severus on their way to the Infirmary to meet Sirius Black. He'd been hearing a bit more about Sirius since he'd been taken out of Azkaban, both from Remus and McGonagall. It was making all those silences and gaps he'd noticed in old conversations and tales a lot more understandable ... they'd been avoiding talking about him, because he'd been there too, and they thought he'd betrayed his parents. Harry couldn't really blame them for that ... he'd not much want to talk about someone like that himself. Pettigrew's name had rather quickly become as verboten in conversations as Sirius' had once been.

Ron was both baffled and deeply concerned by the inexplicable disappearance of his pet, but Harry wasn't about to be the one to tell him Scabbers had actually been a man. Just thinking about that gave him the willies. He'd actually brought it up to Severus at one point, mentioning Pettigrew had had uncontested access to the Weasleys as a whole and Percy and Ron in particular. Severus had given him a look that said 'we already thought of that one', and told him that everything was being dealt with.

He tugged at his sleeves. The silly things were refusing to lay right, had been for the last few days. Severus glanced over at him.

"Nervous?"

"A little, but not that bad." Harry said.

"Then why, pray tell, are you twitching your robes about?"

"Because they're not sitting right."

Severus glanced over at Harry, and tweaked the robe he was wearing. It took him but a moment to realize the real cause of the problem. "Well, that explains why you've been challenging the youngest Weasley in food consumption." He said, not quite able to keep the amusement out of his voice. "I'd say you've grown a good inch, maybe a bit more."

Harry blinked, startled, then glanced at the sleeves of his robes before looking up at Severus. "Really?"

Severus gave him that amused/exasperated look that said 'I will not repeat myself as I know full well you heard me quite clearly the first time'. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed it before now. Growing spurts tend to be ... uncomfortable. And result in you eating quite a bit more than usual."

And now that Harry was thinking about it, he realized Severus was right ... he'd been eating a good bit more than he'd gotten used to, after becoming able to eat full-size portions back in late September. He'd been very nearly keeping pace with Ron, though he was a bit more polite about it ... he hoped. It also explained the looks of amused exasperation Hermione was giving them both at mealtimes. "Is that why I've been achy at night?"

Severus nodded. "Quite so. It's liable to get worse before it gets better, depending on how much height you gain. You're very likely to go through quite a clumsy period for a while. If the aches get too intense, let me know and I'll give you something for it."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I hope it doesn't affect my flying." He said.

"It probably won't. I've yet to see growth spurts have a detrimental effect on quidditch players once they're in the air." Severus told him.

"I'll have to remember to dig out the stuff you got me for Christmas when I get back to the dorm. It's all bigger, so it should fit better than these." Harry tugged on a sleeve one last time before they walked into the Infirmary.

"That would be wise." Severus agreed.

When the door to the private room opened, Harry damn near had a heart attack. The man sitting in the chair next to the bed ... he was thinner, a lot thinner, but recognizably the same man as the one he'd seen in the mirror. It made his hands shake. Could that mirror have seen the future, maybe? Whatever it was, it was more than a little scary.

The man glanced up from the book he'd been reading, and his face instantly split into a wide, happy grin. "Harry!" The voice was rough, as if he'd yelled himself hoarse recently (entirely possible) or something of the sort, but there was no missing the joy and relief in his tone. "My god, you look so much like James did when he was your age."

That made Harry grin a bit. "Hello Mr. Black."

Sirius made a horrified face. "Gah! None of that, pup. Just call me Sirius. Mr. Black was my father."

From his expression, Sirius liked his father about as much as Harry liked Uncle Vernon, but then again, Remus had told Harry that Sirius ran away from home as a teenager, so that was hardly a surprise. Harry clambered onto the bed. "Ok, Sirius. Remus told me something pretty similar." He admitted. "And why'd you call me pup?" He asked. If anyone would do something like that, he'dve expected it of Remus.

"Ahhh, I called you that ... and Prongslet ... from the day you were born. Has to do with the fact your dad and me were animagi."

Harry blinked, and then grinned. "Oh! Oh, I get it. 'pup', 'cause you turn into a dog, or Prongslet 'cause of me being dad's kid and him being a deer." Harry was just grateful Sirius was a pureblood and didn't know about the movie Bambi ... he'd have to hurt Sirius if he started calling Harry that!

"Yep." Sirius agreed. "So, Snape tells me you're on the quidditch team? As a first year? That's spectacular! I can't wait to watch a game and cheer you on."

"Well, the match with the Ravenclaws is in a couple weeks." Harry said. "Maybe if you ask nice, Madame Pomphrey will let you out of here by then." He gave Sirius a commiserating look. Who wanted to be stuck in the infirmary for weeks and weeks? Gah!

Things were a bit awkward after that, until they found their feet. Severus stayed quiet the whole time, and Harry was glad to see that Sirius wasn't trying to antagonize Severus. Given what Severus and Remus had told Harry a few weeks back, he'd half-expected for there to be a lot of yelling and nasty comments. Then again, maybe they'd been doing that the last few weeks and called a truce for today, or something. Whatever the cause, Harry was grateful. At the end, Sirius gave him a hug, and didn't seem to really want to let go, but finally did, if reluctantly.

"I'll come back again soon. Maybe tomorrow, if Madame Pomphrey allows it." Harry promised. "She's still kinda grumpy with me after last time."

"Last time?" Sirius wanted to know.

Harry blushed. "Umm, yeah. Didn't Severus and Remus tell you about that? Quirrell'd hexed my broom, and Severus went after him. Got into an awful fight, too. Ended up in the infirmary for days. Madame Pomphrey kinda got mad at me because I refused to leave the infirmary when she shooed everyone else out."

Sirius was giving Severus a funny look. "No ... that part of the tale somehow never got told." He said. "Though I'd love to hear the whole of it, sometime."

Harry nodded. "I'll tell you next time I get to visit." He promised.

"I'm looking forward to that."Sirius told him.

Life at Hogwarts may have been quiet during the weeks between Sirius' arrival and Harry meeting him, but the same could not even remotely be said for the rest of the British wizarding world. Hogwarts was cushioned from much of it, only seeing the end results in the Prophet. There were, though, several people in the castle who found themselves in rather dire straits.

Crouch had been voted out, and then promptly tossed into Azkaban for his part in Sirius' illegal incarceration. Cornelius Fudge won the Minister's chair in the subsequent vote. Bones and several other aurors went to Crouch's house to search for any evidence of other wrongdoings ... and found themselves in a pitched battle with yet another man thought to be long dead (and to have died in Azkaban, no less), Barty Crouch Junior. Fortunately, none of the aurors were killed. Unfortunately, Barty managed to escape. That discovery saw Crouch Sr. being force-fed Veritaserum and questioned closely.

The results were catastrophic. Crouch admitted to accepting bribes and being blackmailed into allowing several (highly guilty) Death Eaters to walk free, the most prominent of which was, of course, Lucius Malfoy. Worse, Crouch had continued to accept bribes and allow himself to be blackmailed into passing laws that had, over the last decade, made life rather ... interesting ... for a lot of people. All of the increasingly punitive laws for werewolves, vampires, centaurs and goblins (to name but a few) over the last decade had been 'suggested' by Malfoy, with backing from the remaining free and loyal Death Eaters. Severus was just grateful that Lucius had not had to bribe Crouch to ensure Harry's guardianship changed hands, just the Head of the Child Welfare Department. If that particular manipulation had come to light, things would have gotten very ugly very fast.

Unfortunately, Lucius, being no one's fool, had fled the country the self-same day that Crouch Jr. escaped, leaving both his wife and son to face the music alone. He was one of the few to evade arrest, as most of the others were caught unawares in the day or two following the battle with Crouch Jr. Within a week, more than three-quarters of the purebloods in Slytherin House had parents in jail. Fudge was under a huge amount of pressure to repeal the laws passed thanks to Malfoy's money and influence. The Wizengamot was gutted, and several departments suffered personnel losses in the purge of Death Eaters. Not all of the losses were Death Eaters in their own right, of course ... many were just people who actively aided and abetted the Death Eaters in either escaping justice or in passing punitive and unjust laws.

Two days after Harry visited Sirius, he found himself being called into a meeting with the Headmaster. When he arrived, he found himself, Severus, an elderly woman with a severe expression that he thought might be Neville's grandmother, Arthur and Molly Weasley.

"I am quite sure you are all curious as to why I've asked you to this meeting." Dumbledore said. "It is a rather important matter. As you all may know, the Wizengamot has been under siege the last few weeks, so much so that they are now all but unable to function, for loss of voting members. Each of you either holds voting rights for a pureblood family, or could attain that status if you wished to do so. With so many of the conservatives and Death Eaters out of the Wizengamot ... "

Severus sneered. "You're hoping to form a voting block of your own."

"Less that, then ensure that those remnants of the undesirable element who have not yet actively committed a crime gain the upper hand." Dumbledore said. "I will not require any of you to vote as I see fit, but I felt I needed to ask, as arrangements must be made. Harry, for instance, is yet too young to vote, and would need to name a proxy, as would you, Severus, if you decided to claim the Prince line, since as a teacher you'd be hard-pressed to make it to all the meetings. I also intend to speak already with Sirius, and see if he would assume the mantle of Head of House Black, but he too will need to name a proxy, at least for a few months, since he's hardly in good enough shape to be running back and forth."

Madame Longbottom nodded. "Dumbledore has asked, and I have agreed, to act as proxy for those of you who are willing to do this."

Molly was already nodding, though she looked a bit teary-eyed. "I'll reinstate the Prewett line, Headmaster." She said, her voice a bit shaky. "Fabian and Gideon would want me to. This is far too important to let things slide."

Arthur wrapped an arm around his wife. "And of course the Weasleys will be more than happy to assist. I'd be happy to act as proxy as well, so that Augusta does not carry the entire burden."

Severus sighed. "I do not know that I would be able to claim the Prince Headship. So far as I know, my mother was disowned and disinherited, which would make me ineligible."

The Headmaster nodded. "True, but assumptions can be wrong. As you know, merely stating that a person is disowned is not enough. Legal action must be taken as well. It would be worth investigation to discover if your mother was truly disowned."

"You make a point." Severus admitted. He had no interest in being the Head of the Prince line, but if it ensured that those sympathetic to Voldemort's cause did not retain their grip on the Wizengamot, he would take up the mantle, if it was possible to do so.

Harry would much have rathered Severus act as his proxy, but he decided that if Severus couldn't do it, he'd ask Mr. Weasley. Not that he didn't trust Neville's gran, but he didn't know her, at all. He'd at least got to know Mr. Weasley, a bit, thanks to hearing about him from the twins and Ron. Neville didn't really talk about his family at all. Harry was pretty sure there was a reason behind that, but he wasn't going to push if Neville wasn't ready to talk about it.

The meeting broke up quickly after that, and Harry followed Severus down to his ... their ... quarters (sometimes, Harry still had trouble thinking of it as his, too, despite having his own room down there.). Once they'd settled, Severus in one of the chairs by the fire and Harry, as had become his habit, on a cushion on the floor , Harry looked up.

"Severus, what was all that about reclaiming lines?"

Severus gave him an amused look. "It is possible ... and has been done in the past, that when a particular bloodline loses all the direct, patrilineal heirs, for either a cousin, if such is closely related enough, a daughter, or daughter's child, to lay claim to the bloodline. The blood relationship has to be a fairly close one, though, for the claim to work. First cousin or daughter's child at the worst, and the claimant can't have a stronger claim to another bloodline. So, for instance, William Weasley, the oldest of Arthur and Molly's children, couldn't claim the Prewett line, as he's first in line for the Weasleys, and is only a daughter's child, where Molly is the daughter of the line."

"So ... what happens after that? Will the line die out again or what?" Harry wanted to know.

"In Molly's case, highly unlikely. She could name any of her younger sons, or her daughter, as her heir to the Prewett line. In my case, as I am highly unlikely to sire children, yes, the line would die out again."

Harry frowned slightly, then shrugged. Personally, he thought Severus would make a good dad, but Severus seemed to not be at all interested in being more than Harry's guardian. Some part of Harry was pitifully grateful for that, as he worried that a kid of his own would see Harry shoved, once again, into the (metaphorical this time, he hoped) broom cupboard.

"You could adopt someone, maybe?" He offered.

Severus shook his head. "Has to be related by blood." He said. "Or it won't work, and in this case, a blood adoption wouldn't be enough."

"Why?" Harry wanted to know.

"Becoming Head of House is about more than just being in charge of some votes." Severus explained. "There is magic involved. Being Head of House is a binding magical contract ... the Head must protect and succor all of the line, and act in the line's best interest. If the magic bound into the Head of House signet ring perceives the Head to be acting contrary to those tenets, it will choose another Head, simply disappearing from the hand of the original Head and appearing on the hand of the next in line. That's happened a few times in the past, but not for centuries. Due to that, a blood adoption, which gives a child material inheritance rights, isn't enough to declare them 'of the line' enough to act as Head."

"Kind of loose guidelines, thought." Harry pointed out. "Considering Malfoy didn't get stripped of Headship for doing what he's done over the last decade."

Severus nodded. "Indeed, they are very loose guidelines, and meant to be so, as when the magic was first invoked, those doing the invoking rightly realized that 'what is best' would change over time, and locking themselves and their heirs into particular roles and decisions might well spell disaster."

Harry thought of something. "Wait ... if the Head has to protect ... how can anyone get disowned?" He wanted to know.

Severus smiled a little, pleased that Harry picked up on that. "Because they have done something against the line's best interests, and refuse to recant that decision. Thus, in order to protect the line and act in its interests ... "

"They can be disowned. And that explains why it's harder to do than just saying 'you're disowned'. There must be some sort of contract or something that has to be signed." Harry guessed.

"Quite so." Severus agreed. "So both Black and I will be ascertaining whether or not we are eligible for Headship."

HPHPHP

It turned out that both Sirius and Severus were eligible for Headship, though in Severus' case, that wasn't saying all that much. The Prince line hadn't been all that old, had never had all that many members, and the family House, the only asset Family Prince possessed other than gold, was in severe disrepair after almost four decades of neglect, asno one had stepped foot in the place since about a month after Severus had been born, which is when his grandmother died, his grandfather having died the previous winter. As a result, Severus had almost nothing to do except claim the family signet ring and call it a day.

Sirius, on the other hand, had his hands full from the moment he claimed the ring. The Blacks were one of the richest wizarding families, with properties all over the world. They also, unfortunately, had ten tons of Dark magical objects, books, and other non-Dark sundries that Sirius wanted no part of, and which would take a considerable amount of time to be rid of safely. He was also having to deal with his cousins. In one case, Andromeda Tonks, this wasn't a problem, and Sirius gleefully reinstated her (she'd been officially disowned)and her daughter into Family Black, while summarily disowning another, Bellatrix LeStrange. The tricky one was, ironically enough (for Harry, when he found out), Narcissa Malfoy. Sirius didn't trust her as far as he could throw her, and wasn't at all certain about her loyalties. He was seriously considering requiring a Wizard's Oath from her, or better, an Unbreakable Vow that she'd never lift a finger (magically or otherwise) to aid Voldemort, nor assist Malfoy in his attempts to corrupt the Ministry and Wizengamot. Since she'd already borne Malfoy an heir, Sirius couldn't annul their marriage (Only Malfoy could do that, thus disinheriting Draco), so this would be the next best thing. If she refused them, both she and her son would be disowned from Family Black, but that hadn't been dealt with just yet, as Sirius wasn't up to a face-to-face meeting with her.

Harry, thankfully, didn't have much to do, though there was more to deal with than for Severus, to be certain. The Potter estate was in fairly good shape, all things considered. Unlike the Blacks, the Potters had not invested in real estate ... they had, instead, invested in businesses, both wizarding and muggle. These earned the Potters quite a lot of money, and didn't need Harry looking after them personally. All he had to do was make sure there was a competent investor in charge of them. Apart from the Manor, the only property Harry owned was the largely destroyed cottage in Godric's Hollow. And to be completely honest, if Harry never saw the place, he'd be a happy, happy person. It would be entirely too painful.

It made for a very odd time. Arthur had quite happily agreed to being Harry's proxy, and Augusta was serving as Severus and Sirius', a situation that amused Harry no end, given that the two men could only just barely be in the same room without verbally tearing strips out of each other. They had more success at it when Remus was there, as his calm, quiet personality dampened the worst of the hostility.

Much to Harry's relief, the Slytherins, most especially Draco, had gone quiet, no longer antagonizing anyone and everyone they possibly could. Draco in particular looked more than a little shell-shocked at the situation he found himself in, as scion to a deeply disgraced and shamed Family. As for the rest, between the ... discussion ... Severus had had with them about Voldemort and them suddenly finding their parents incarcerated for illegal activities, well, they were doing a lot of thinking. Severus did not go so far as to think that all of them would suddenly become muggle-lovers, but if they decided to remain neutral when Voldemort inevitably returned, Severus would count it a victory.

Scholastically, by mid-May, Harry was doing incredibly well, managing to keep up with Hermione (though he didn't surpass her, he wasn't far behind her). By far his worst subjects was History of Magic, as he'd finally (with assistance from Neville, who was incredibly good at the subject) caught his feet in Herbology. He still did best when it came to spell-casting. Any spell-casting, provided he was given a detailed explanation of what needed to be done. Unlike Hermione, Harry didn't much care how a spell worked, or why it worked, or why its limitations were what they were. Interestingly, as the year had progressed, and they were introduced to more and more spells, Harry began to, intuitively, understand, in general, vague terms, the hows, wheres, and whyfores of the spells, though actually articulating that understanding proved to be troublesome. Harry just ... 'got it'. He was also, much to his chagrin, proving to have half-again the power of his agemates, able to consistently cast spells that were described as 'difficult' for someone his age. There'd been more than one accident where Harry overpowered a spell.

By the end of May, with finals looming, Harry had also finally finished growing. He'd shot up fully half a foot, much to his pleasure. He was still shorter than Ron by a couple inches, but at least he was no longer looking his best male friend in the sternum, and was nowhere near being shortest in his year anymore.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Severus, aware of Harry's particular strengths, had been talking quietly with Filius, to see if the man would be willing to tutor Harry over the summer. The more styles of fighting and spellcasting Harry was exposed to, the better. Filius, who'd seen just what Harry was capable of in his class, had readily agreed, as had Minerva. Harry was going to have a busy summer.

And then finals were over, and everyone was packing up, and trudging to the Express. Harry had been somewhat surprised to discover he'd be taking the Express, but Severus had just given him an amused look and said that, after all, Harry did still have a few things at the Dursleys that needed fetching, didn't he? And it would only be polite to inform them face-to-face that he would no longer be their concern.

Harry, who was no one's fool, was more than a little worried for what Severus would do to the Dursleys. He was just grateful that neither Remus nor Sirius would be joining Severus ... the thought of that triad ganging up on anyone was enough to give Harry the chills.

Harry spent the train ride in a compartment with Neville, Ron, and Hermione. The four of them spent most of the ride speculating on what, exactly, would befall the Dursleys at Severus' hands. The guesses got wilder, and sillier, as time went on, until all four of them were curled up on the seats giggling like maniacs.

Towards the end of the trip, they finally managed to sober up, and Harry glanced at the other three. "You guys are welcome to come over to the Manor this summer, anytime. Just owl ahead so we know you're coming. I know I'm going to see you, Neville, 'cause your gran's going to be teaching me the stuff related to me being, you know, a Potter." He gave the four a longsuffering look. "Bleargh. But Ron, you'n Hermione can come over whenever. Heck, so can your brothers and sister, if you want."

Ron was a bit wide-eyed. "Snape's letting ... " He started, sounding dumbfounded. Harry didn't really blame him too much, as Severus was nothing if not intimidating. He'd not been deliberately over-vicious since early September, but he was still strict, not much given to praise, and had an unmistakably intimidating presence without half trying.

"Yeah, he's letting me have you guys over." Harry said. "He's really not that bad, Ron. I know you guys didn't see it in school, but in private, he's pretty decent. Not one for hugs and cuddles, mind." Harry grinned at the look on Ron's face at the idea of a cuddly Snape. "But definitely not as bad as he makes out in public. I kind of got the impression that he got used to acting like a nasty git, and it'll take a while for him to really, you know, relax ... if he ever does." Harry of course knew that Severus' personality was due to more than the last few years of 'acting', but he wasn't about to blab Severus' private business to his friends unless he had no choice.

Ron grinned. "Yeah, I get you. Oh! I almost forgot! Mum said to tell you you're welcome to come over to the Burrow this summer, if you want to. Though I warn you, if you do, my sister sort of has a crush on you, at least she did last I knew."

Harry made a face. "You're kidding me."

"Sorry mate, but I'm not. Though that might change if she finds out about the Durselys, you know? I'm sort of dreading mum finding out. She's going to go mental! I bet she even sends the Headmaster a howler!"

"What's a howler?" Harry wanted to know. McGonagall and Severus had covered a lot of extra material with him over the last year, but it was pretty much impossible to cover everything in the wizarding world in that amount of time.

"It's a letter that people send when they're really, really, really mad." Ron explained. "It yells really loud."

"Ahhh." Harry said. "Gotcha." The mental image of Dumbledore having to deal with a yelling letter was amusing, and actually made Harry wonder if he'd had to do that already over Harry.

All too soon, the train pulled into King's Cross. Harry was ... almost looking forward to this. Severus told him he'd be waiting for them at Privet Drive. Harry could only imagine the Dursley's reaction to finding Severus in their home, laying in wait.

Fortunately, Vernon and Petunia settled for angry, hateful looks and a few spare, nasty comments during the drive to the house. Dudley kept himself pressed against the far door, as far away from Harry as he could physically get. Harry kept expecting the door to give way and dump Dudley on the street. Not wanting to miss a second of their reaction, Harry hurried out of the car and dragged his trunk out of the boot, hurrying to keep up with the Dursleys.

To his surprise, he didn't see Severus when they walked inside. Well, he didn't see Severus until they'd all got in and closed the door, at which point Severus appeared out of nowhere in the hallway, right by Harry's old cupboard. There was instant pandemonium. Petunia screamed, Vernon bellowed, and Dudley howled in fear, clapped his hands to his fat bottom, and raced up the stairs to whatever safety he supposed his bedroom to be.

"YOU!" Petunia shrieked, one hand to her chest as she regained a modicum of equilibrium after the scare. "What are you doing here? Get out! Get out! I'll not have you here, poisoning my family with your lies!"

Severus sneered at Petunia, lip curled in distaste. "It is unpleasantly disagreeable to see you again, Tuney, I must say. Time has not done you any favors, has it? As for poisoning your family with my lies ... whatever do you mean?"

It was clear to Harry from Severus' tone that he knew exactly what 'lies' Petunia meant, but was just baiting her.

"Now see here! You will leave at once, sir! You are breaking and entering!" Vernon bristled. "If you do not, I shall call the police!"

Harry very nearly fell over laughing, as Vernon had said almost exactly the same thing to Hagrid.

"Oh, please do call the police." Severus almost purred. "I'm quite sure they would be most interested to discover just how you treated your nephew. It ought to prove to be most edifying."

Petunia went milk-white, but Vernon was an ugly mottled purple-red and took a step forward, before scuttling backwards again when Severus' wand appeared out of nowhere, pointing straight at Vernon's nose. "You dare to threaten us? We did our best by the freak. Gave him room and board and food out of our Dudley's mouth! Tried to break him of his freakishness so he could be a normal person!"

Ohhhhhhh, wrong things to say. Harry backed into a corner so as to give a severely-pissed-off Severus more room to work with.

"Room and board, you say?" Severus snarled. "A cramped broom cupboard is no room! And your son has hardly suffered for Harry's presence! As for trying to break him of his so-called freakishness ... " Severus bared his teeth at the Dursleys in a parody of a smile. "As I explained to Tuney when we were children ... wizards are born, not made. There is no power on earth that can make a wizard stop being a wizard. And you have no concept of how lucky you were."

"Lucky!" Vernon roared.

"Yes, lucky, you corpulent buffoon. Because no matter your will in the matter, magic will out! A young child's magic, untrained as it is, will do what it can to protect them. You're just lucky that in Harry's case, it seemed to have settled for healing his hurts faster. There've been cases were an abuser was outright killed by a child's defensive magic!" Severus glared at the two of them. Granted, the last case of a child's magic lashing out like that had happened (so far as Severus knew) well before the Headmaster was born, it had still happened. Untrained wizards were insanely dangerous, as their magic was not under their control, and to attack one such was to court trouble at best.

And now both Dursleys were a pasty, horrified gray. "That's IT! I'll not have the freak in the house! I'll not have him endangering our Dudley, or us!" Vernon roared.

Severus gave the two that sharks-head grin again. "No need to worry about that, Dursley. I am now the boy's guardian. I only permitted him to come back here in order to fetch anything he might have left behind that is of sentimental value to him. Harry, if you would?"

Harry, trying not to grin, squeezed past the Dursleys to the cupboard. He'd left a few things in there, tucked way in the back, that he'd not wanted Dudley to get his hands on. A couple of old, ratty books that he'd particularly liked, some drawings he'd done, and a very old, faded baby blanket from when he was a toddler that he now suspected had been with him when he arrived. It wasn't much, but it was his. The broken toys, he left behind. When he backed out of the cupboard, Severus was looking at him, his expression saying quite plainly (to those who knew where to look, at any rate) that he wanted nothing more than to wipe the Dursleys out of existence.

"Got everything." Harry told him.

"Very well. I have just one last thing to say." Severus said, eyeballing the Dursleys. He lifted his wand, and Harry instinctively ducked behind Severus as Severus began a complicated series of movements, then fairly snarled. "Exsequor insons insontis!" There was a blinding flash of golden light that rushed out of Severus' wand like a wave, surrounding Harry, then the Dursleys, then concentrating at various spots in the house that Harry quickly realized were places he'd ... not been treated especially well. Severus gripped his shoulder and then apparated them both out of the house, straight to a spot just outside Potter Manor's wards.

"Severus, what on earth was that spell?" Harry asked.

"Avenge the innocent. It fell out of favor some several hundred years ago or so, but it was once used to ... punish ... the abusive families of Muggleborns. Every ill they visited on you will be repaid them, and the spell will not dissipate until the price is paid in full. Given how badly they treated you, they will be feeling the effects of the spell for quite some time."

"Good." Harry said, then grinned. "Let's go in."