Apparate...  run.

Apparate...  run.

Backtrack, Portkey…

Apparate… 

Sweating profusely, hair and beard in a tangled mess and his robes – once fine wool and fur, now tattered and torn – hung off of him as he resembled an Inferi more than a man; he collapsed in exhaustion and terror outside the ramshackle hut in the middle of the most remote range of the Scottish Highlands. A converted shepherd’s hovel, it served as a temporary hideaway for the wizard who was struggling to escape his fate. Casting weak wards over the hut, he threw himself onto the pile of smelly rags in the back corner, dragging a few over his wasted frame. For weeks he’d been running and hiding, ever since the burning on his arm told him of the Dark Lord’s return. He had barely been one step ahead of his former colleagues for several days and he knew he was taking a hellish risk by stopping and resting – but he was so exhausted that just casting the wards on this hut had nearly caused him to pass out.  Even thinking about another Apparition was almost enough to make him splinch. At this rate, he’d never have enough energy to cross over to the main continent.

No, the wards were pathetically weak but they should warn him of anyone approaching – this horrendous gamble would allow him to recharge his magical core with a few desperately needed hours of sleep before he moved on again.

Succumbing to the exhaustion that was dragging down his eyelids, Igor Karkarof fell asleep.

)O-O(

Harry sat in a tree, high above a babbling brook that ran merrily on its way below him. He was staring at a letter that had arrived via owl but clearly had passed through a few hands before reaching him. He stroked his hand over the envelope that had seen better days, stains marring its surface, corners dog-eared and worn. Several cancelled stamps graced the top right corner and the handwriting – the handwriting addressing the letter: Harry James Potter-Snape c/o Hogwarts School was as familiar to him as his own. It should be; he’d spent most of his childhood between the age of five and coming to Hogwarts correcting everything written in it.

This was a letter from his cousin Dudley.

He dreaded opening it, assuming that there would be vitriol spewing from his cousin’s hand – and rightly so. It was Harry’s fault his parents were either dead, or in prison awaiting a death sentence. Granted they had brought these sentences upon themselves due to their treatment of Harry, but deep down Harry knew that it was his testimony, his memories, that had put them away. He still felt guilty.

He toyed with the envelope, turning it over and over in his hands, delaying the inevitable.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Draco prompted, getting annoyed with his brother. He had followed Harry out here and his brother hadn’t said a word as they had hiked to this remote section of the grounds. “Who’s it from anyway?”

Harry sighed. “My cousin.”

Draco raised his eyebrow at that in a fair imitation of their father. “After all this time?” Harry just nodded his head, looking down at the envelope in his lap. “Well, he can’t curse you literally… Do you want me to open it for you?” he offered softly.

Harry sighed then nodded, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them after Draco took the missive. He watched silently as the older boy expertly broke the seal on the back, drawing out a single sheet of paper. He waved it at Harry. “Want me to read it, too?” he gently asked. His brother’s pleading eyes answered him so he carefully unfolded the piece of lined notebook paper, scanning it quickly before taking a big breath to begin.

“Harry,

I know you are surprised that I’ve written, and I wasn’t sure how this would get to you – but the counsellor they’ve had me work with said this was how I could write to you. He seems to have some connection with... Wizards.

Draco looked up from the post, cocking an eyebrow at Harry. “Do you think...”

“Whitney? Yeah, I do,” he confirmed. Draco snorted then continued on with his reading.

It’s taken me a long time to get over the anger and shame I felt after everything that summer, but I’ve had three years now to come to terms with what a right bunch of gits my family were to you and how wrong it was to treat you that way. No one should ever have to face that, I know that now – although it has taken me a long time to realise that. In fact something happened this summer to wake me up to this and make me really understand what the counsellors had been nattering on about.

I was walking back to the school from my summer job, talking with my escort, when the air got suddenly freezing and I felt all depressed inside... as if nothing was ever going to be right again. I couldn’t see anything but my guard had pulled out his wand and was yelling words at something, a large white light exploded from his wand but I was already too far gone. I felt as if I wanted to give up and I was seeing all the games and pranks we used to play on you, hunting you, tormenting you... I was seeing it from YOUR perspective, Harry, I don’t understand how... and I saw my parents beating you, starving you... I could feel your pain. It was horrible and terrifying.

When I woke up in Hospital, my guard told me we had been attacked by Dementors and what they were. He said it was a good thing he had spotted me that day and decided to walk with me back to the school, otherwise I’d be SOULLESS. See, I normally don’t have an escort – but I had worked late and he was heading back to the school as well to go on duty guarding me.

Do you think Dad saw the same things when the Dementor sucked out his soul? Did he feel this way in his last moments, realising that what we had done was so wrong? Because it was – I know and really understand that now. Do you think Mum understands this? She is stuck in that prison everyday with those things...

I can understand if you don’t want anything to do with me – I fully deserve that – but I wanted you to know that I understand now and that I know what we did was awful and, frankly, criminal. I just hope that someday you will forgive me for my part in it, but will understand if you don’t or can’t.

Dudley D.”

Draco refolded the letter, sliding it back into the envelope and handing it back to his brother who just took it and tucked it between his torso and his legs, resuming hugging them tight. They sat quietly for a few more moments in the tree, the summer air stirring the leaves around them, the brook below murmuring on its way and birds calling to each other on the wind. The sun shone bright in stark contrast to the mood in the tree. Harry didn’t move, staring straight ahead, rarely blinking but obviously not focusing on anything visual in front of him.

Draco sat patiently, picking at a bit of fraying in the old pair of jeans he was wearing, periodically peeking at his brother before he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Harry?” he queried hesitantly.

His brother blinked, then pushed his glasses back into place letting his eyes slide over and focus on Draco. He understood the question: his brother was asking if he was alright and he was; he just had a massive question that was taxing his brain and he didn’t really like the answer he was coming up with. He raised his chin up off his knees, piercing his brother with an emerald gaze and stunning the teen with his next question.

“Why were there Dementors in Surrey?”

)O-O(

Harry knocked on the doorframe of the library to announce his presence. His father looked up, startled, from the copy of the Prophet he was reading. He waved his son in, folding up the paper and placed it on the table next to him. He hadn’t expected his sons back so soon from their sojourn this morning. He’d been concerned when Harry had received a letter at breakfast that had caused the boy to blanch noticeably. Harry had quickly excused himself and had hurried from the room, Draco hot on his heels. Severus had watched through the large leaded windows as the two had taken off across the grounds. If they weren’t back in time for the afternoon training, he would have sent one of the House-elves after them. But here they were – Draco hovering in the hallway - two brooms clutched in his hands, waiting, and Harry clearly worried about something, the letter from this morning clutched in his hand.

Harry crossed the expanse of oriental carpets to the sitting area his father preferred amongst the tomes of knowledge. It was situated such that there was a nearby fireplace for cold days and a tall window that let in light for daytime reading. There were several deep-cushioned chairs there, perfect for curling up in for a spot of reading – or sitting primly in as his father preferred. Reaching his sire, he handed the man the letter from his cousin and perched on the edge of a nearby chair, too agitated to relax.

Severus raised an eyebrow at his son’s behaviour, but accepted the envelope and after a sideways glance at Harry’s fidgeting hands, he flipped the envelope over to read the address. Noticing the Surrey cancellation mark, he slipped the note out after gaining a hand-waved permission from Harry.

To say he was stunned at Dursley’s letter would be mild; although, he was grateful the boy was coming around and seeing the error of his ways but...

“Why were there Dementors in Surrey?” Harry finally blurted out loud, as if reading his father’s mind. “I thought they were confined to Azkaban and not allowed anywhere except by permission of the Ministry – like in third year when they were hunting Sirius. Were they trying to kill Dudley? Who would want to do that? I mean, I hated him while we were growing up – yeah – but I’d never want him dead!” he fumed.

“He was a very lucky young man that his regular guard ran across him and was escorting him back to school,” Severus murmured.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out. He looked down at his agitated hands then back up into his father’s face. Severus read the consternation and confusion written there. He attempted to soothe the ruffled lion’s mane.

“Harry, I don’t know – none of this was reported in the paper. Let me speak with Moody and Tonks about it this afternoon at training; they may have some better idea of what is going on. It is very troubling that those creatures were out loose; you have the correct idea to think that someone was probably after your cousin; as to why? I can think of several reasons – can you?” he prompted.

“Yes,” the boy acknowledged. “Revenge for hurting me or to make me hurt... either way, it doesn’t matter, he should not be a target!” he said forcefully, raising his voice in vexation.

“I agree, son. In fact the first reason is why he was originally assigned the guard detail. They were put there when he began receiving threats.” Harry sat up straighter, surprised at that, but then relaxed back into the cushions in understanding. He knew that there were people out there who wanted revenge for the pain that was caused him; his “stalkers” he had half-joked with his friends. People who identified with him so absolutely that they were willing to take on imagined battles for him. Hermione thought they were sad, and he had to somewhat agree.

“Until I speak with the Aurors, though,” Severus continued, “we won’t know the reasoning. As your guardian, I should have been kept apprised as to what was happening with your cousin – especially anything magical in nature. The fact that I have not been so informed is troubling in and of itself.” He steepled his fingers, tapping them against his mouth in thought for a moment before letting them drop back into his lap where he tapped the letter.

“What about his last question?” he asked softly.

Harry stared down at the rug. “Forgiveness? I guess I forgave him a long time ago – one reason why I didn’t want him to go to prison with his mum... He was only doing what his father was doing. At that age... I guess I could see him changing and hoped that everything would open his eyes. It doesn’t mean I forget what he did,” he hurriedly told his father, finally raising his gaze to rest on his father’s face. “It just means I understand,” he clarified.

“Are you going to write him back?” Severus asked.

“Later. After you find out what’s been happening? I think that would be best. I wouldn’t know how to be chit-chatty in a letter to him and I’d rather have something concrete to give him.” He stood, jamming his hands in his pockets and shuffling his trainers on the carpet. “Let me know what you find out? Please?”

“Of course, Harry. I’ll speak with them this afternoon during training,” he reaffirmed.

Harry finally graced him with a relieved smile before thanking him and heading off to rejoin his brother. Draco shared a glance and a nod with his father before handing the Nimbus to his brother, holstering the Firebolt over his own shoulder and leading them away.

)O-O(

Watching from the sidelines as the students practiced Bombarda hexes against hay bales; Severus finally voiced his concern over Dursley’s Dementor attack.

“Frankly, Snape, if that Auror hadn’t been with the Dursley boy, no one would have believed his story. He would’ve been the victim of an unknown attack, reduced to a comatose hunk of flesh until the body forgot to work. There are several in the Ministry who still can’t believe it happened and are trying to keep it hushed up. I’m surprised you even got the letter!” Moody growled.

Severus smiled grimly. “His counsellor had him mail it to Hogwarts using the Muggle Parent’s postal address. Minerva forwarded it on to us via her owl – she handles all the school post, you know.”

Moody chuckled. “Clever – got right past the checkpoints.” Snape nodded – watching the teenagers spray the area with bits of straw as they drilled holes through the centres of the bales. They all had been improving over the last few weeks and this would be the last session before school began. He needed to return to the castle to get his classroom ready.

Tonks kept her eye on the students as well, listening to her mentor and his friend. “I can tell you what the scuttlebutt is around the Auror office,” she offered slyly, gaining the attention of the other adults.

“And that is?” Moody prompted, rolling his eye at her. He liked the quirky Hufflepuff, but you could read her moods via her hair like one of those Muggle mood stones from back in the seventies. Currently it was magenta, matching her bemused stance at knowing something her superiors didn’t.

“Fudge has several cronies in the Ministry who all kow-tow to him; chief among them is Delores Umbridge – a sycophant if there ever was one.” She shuddered. “The woman adores the colour pink.”

“Says the woman who regularly sports that as a hair colour,” Moody pointed out, literally pointing at her current colour. She pulled down a curl to look at it then let it pop back with a look of disgust at her mentor.

“I do not – Fuchsia, maybe, but never nauseating pink – like stomach soother potion! Her entire office is decked out in it. In any case,” she hurried on, ignoring the pained looks on the men’s faces – Adam’s apples bobbing in Pavlovian responses to the suggested potion, “before she became undersecretary to Fudge last year, she was the director of the Magical Creatures department and had direct control over all magical creatures. Remember, she was the one who sponsored all those abhorrent bills restricting Werewolves and Centaurs? Tried to do the same with Veelas wanting to immigrate as well.”

The others nodded in remembrance, Lupin glowering from his position on the other side of her.

“Your point, Nymphadora?” her superior goaded, delighting in her hair going bright red in anger. She hated her given name and he was enough of a Slytherin to enjoy seeing her get riled up when he used it. Besides, she needed to stop being so picky about it.

“Say that again and I’ll use Lavare on your mouth!” she growled. He just leered back.  “My point,” she continued, studiously ignoring him and addressing the rest of the men, “is that her department was also in charge of the Azkaban guards – all the guards.”

“She was in control of the Dementors?” Lupin asked.

“I believe that is what she was implying, wolf,” Severus drawled, earning a glare. “So, Umbridge could have sent the Dementors to Surrey to attack Dursley – but I don’t understand her game.”

“To hurt Harry?” Lupin ventured. Severus conceded with a nod.

“Harry thought the same thing. Fudge is being slow to react to His return – stopping short of outright denying it and calling my son a liar. He can’t, not with all the eyewitness reports. But Tom is currently lying low, gathering his troops, lulling the Ministry into a false sense of security that he is weaker than before and therefore not as much of a threat. And if you’ve been reading the Prophet, it has become evident that the Ministry is controlling what the paper has been publishing, allowing only stories that paint Harry as a delusional, hormonal teenager – blowing this thing way out of proportion. Someone could believe that by taking out Dursley they would be weakening Harry; threatening him to stay quiet.”

“That sounds like Umbridge,” Tonks quipped. “Most vindictive and manipulative woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“How has Harry taken the news?” Remus asked, concerned.

“Badly; although some good actually came from it. Apparently, Dudley was thrown back into his memories of his treatment of Harry – experiencing them from Harry’s standpoint in a way, or at least more objectively. After three years he is finally able to understand and regret his and his family’s actions and has asked that Harry try to forgive him. Harry’s response was that he’d forgiven him a long time ago, but could never forget.” He shrugged as his eyes continued to scan the students practicing in front of him, watching them with an eagle eye. Coming to a quick decision he snapped out a quick “Halt!” watching in satisfaction as all the students dropped their arms and turned to face him, readiness and wariness evident on their faces. Moody grunted, obviously wishing his own Auror trainees would respond with such alacrity.

“Broom practice – last man flying gets ten more points added to their house total at the start of term. Hexes and jinxes only, nothing irreversible, melee-style, every man for him or herself – those who land on the ground may attempt to bring down remaining flyers – but if you are tagged twice, you are out of the game permanently. Go!” he barked. The teens ran to where their brooms lay to the side of the field, calling them to hand and racing into the wind for the practice field centre. This was an exercise they were familiar with that their instructors had instituted during the first week. It gave them a chance to work off steam, practice all the spells learned so far and use them in a practical application. Currently, Gryffindor was in the lead, but only by five points. The rest of the houses were tied in this impromptu house point race which was saying a lot considering the majority of the students being taught sported Red and Gold badges.

The adults watched as Harry and Draco seemed to have a personal mission today of winning those points, knocking their opponents out of the sky one by one, casually retagging them on the ground quickly so they were not a side threat. Ginny surprised them by taking out Neville with a well placed signature Bat Bogey hex – he had swiped at his face one too many times and managed to slide off his broom, unable to recover quick enough. Pansy then came up behind the youngest Weasley, sliding her forward off her broom with a well-placed Bombarda.

Still, with all the good flying and spells, it came down to Harry and Draco who remained in the air firing spells at each other across ten feet of space. The rest of the students sat panting in the grass, looking up and watching the battle in the sky. The adults walked closer, wands at the ready to catch whoever fell first. Tonks and Lupin took a closer look at the combatants.

“Does Harry...” Tonks murmured.

“...have his eyes closed?” Lupin asked, a hint of wonder colouring his voice.

“Hmmm,” was all Severus and Moody said as they watched, carefully assessing the battle. Finally, a flick of the wrist – faster than anyone could see – and Draco was spinning to the ground, a look of resignation on his face as he was caught and lowered gently to the turf by his instructors; his broom floating down beside him.

Harry dismounted amidst the congratulations of his friends and walked over to his brother.

“You almost had me – if you hadn’t...”

“I know – if I hadn’t let that small area open in the shield... I’ll work on overlapping the shields better and get you next time, O Brother Dear,” he teased, playfully knocking Harry’s queue about, causing it to swing around and smack Harry in the cheek. He growled at Draco and playfully wrestled him to the ground, attempting to tickle him before he realised it wouldn’t work. He sat back on his haunches giving Draco a dirty look.

“That is no fair, you know! One of these days...” he huffed.

“I told you, you’d have to find it yourself! Now get off!” he said, pushing his brother off of him to tumble over on the grass next to him laughing.

Severus stopped next to the pair, a pleased look on his face. “Well done, Harry. As promised, ten more points to start the year off with and I believe that wins the Gryffindors the summer house cup. You have first dibs at the ice cream sundae fixings on the porch.” He helped his sons up off the ground and they all ran to the flagstone patio behind the glass conservatory where the house-elves had laid out the treat.

The instructors leisurely walked to the area, letting the teens build their sundaes first although Lupin led the pack with Tonks right behind him. He loaded his dish up with chocolate, adding every chocolate topping he could find.

Severus eyed the concoction with distaste. “Seriously, wolf, you’ll be hyped up on all that caffeine and sugar!”

“Won’t last long,” he countered, licking his spoon lovingly earning an appreciative look from the young Auror next to him. “Fast metabolism.” He quirked his eyebrows in humour and escorted Tonks to one of the several Bistro chair and table sets that were scattered on the patio where they began a low murmured conversation, her hair turning a contented pale blue.

Severus snorted to himself as he watched them for a moment then smiled as he spotted Narcissa carrying Calista onto the patio. He walked over, taking the toddler from her mother.

Calista loved her Uncle Severus and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling into the fabric of his summer robes.

“Someone is still sleepy, I see,” he noted to her mother as he patted the little girl’s back. It had taken awhile to get used to the affectionate child. He was comfortable with occasionally giving his sons hugs when needed, but Calista Marie was another creature altogether who was constantly climbing into any available lap and hugging its owner. She was quite free with these hugs and cuddles as long as it was someone she considered family – which had expanded to quite a large number of people over the past few weeks. Her favourite, though, was her godfather. His robes smelled especially homey and she had taught him how to cuddle to her satisfaction. He was a quick learner.

“Long nap today – growth spurt and she had a bout of accidental magic this morning when throwing a fit over having to put away her toys. Draco used to go through the same thing,” she pointed out.

“I remember - vividly,” he said, bemused. Draco had been a wilful child until he had taken him in and adopted him. Some of it was acting out against Lucius’ steel hand, but a lot of the early incidents stemmed around a child bored and with no one but house-elves to play with. He had latched onto Severus the moment his godfather would step into the manor, throwing tremendous fits when it was time for him to leave, wreaking magical havoc when he did so.

He led them over to a larger patio grouping, letting the little girl curl up in his lap until she noticed the ice-cream table. Then she was wide awake, running over to the table where Draco was standing with Hermione, tugging on his pant leg.

“Dwaco – ice cweam!” she insisted, garnering chuckles from everyone.

“What kind do you want, Callie?” he asked, lifting up the little girl so she could look over her choices.

“Pink!” she exclaimed. He dutifully set her down and dished her up a small portion of strawberry with some sliced strawberries and chocolate sprinkles on top. He led her back to his parents and the table where she could stand and eat, conjuring a napkin that he tied around her neck to protect her dress. He and Hermione joined the family group with Harry and Pansy across from them.

“This is a nice treat, Severus,” Narcissa complimented, enjoying her own dish of Vanilla.

“Seemed the thing to do on the last day of lessons. The kids deserved it after all their hard work. I’m quite pleased with the results. I head back tomorrow,” he reminded her. “Are you going to be able to handle all three for a week?” he teased.

“Dad!” came the twin retorts of his sons.

“I’ll be fine, dear,” she reassured. “I’ll have them to the station on time, no worries. In fact, I was thinking of possibly going to the Alley the day before to get them fitted...” she stopped when she saw him shake his head.

“Too risky right now,” he explained. “All of their supplies were owl ordered as soon as the lists came out and the tailor has already been here. Their new robes and uniforms should be here on Wednesday.” His boys nodded their heads affirmatively at Narcissa who shrugged as she realised everything was taken well in hand.

“All right, then we will have fun in other ways. Don’t worry about us,” she assured him, patting his knee. He did not look reassured at all.

“Aunt Narcissa?”

Narcissa put her dish down on the table as Tonks approached their little grouping, Lupin hovering behind her.

“Nymphadora,” she said politely. She knew the girl despised her first name, but it was what she was named and Narcissa wasn’t about to use her last name, nor shorten it either, not until they knew each other better.

“Mother asked that I give you this,” she said, holding out a thick parchment envelope. “She asked me to extend her belated condolences on your loss earlier this summer.”

Narcissa rose to accept the envelope, staring down at the first correspondence she’d received from Andromeda in nearly twenty years.

“How is she?” she asked quietly.

“Well. She is doing very well,” her niece confirmed. Narcissa nodded her head.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Gathering her courage she looked up at the young Auror. “Please, let her know I appreciate her concern and will respond soon.”

“I will,” the girl acknowledged, then let Lupin guide her away back to their small table for two – her hair brightening up a few shades as his hand rested in the small of her back.

Narcissa watched them a moment before sitting back down, tucking the envelope into her lap. “I do believe I better warn my sister of some future nuptials,” she pronounced to her group at large. Every young person snapped their head around to watch the couple for a few moments before getting huge grins on their faces.

“Alright, Callie, take the cutter and press down on the dough – and wiggle it a little bit, like this,” Harry instructed, demonstrating how to cut out a sugar biscuit with a biscuit cutter. The little girl, decked out in an old shirt of Harry’s – sleeves rolled up and out of the way, covered head to toe in white flour and grinning delightedly, carefully took the dog-shaped, rolled-tin cutter by its handle and pressed it into the flattened dough. She wiggled it just like her brother showed her and watched in awe as he helped her lift up the cutter with the dough neatly cut out inside the bottom edge. He tapped it onto the waiting baking sheet where it dropped out and joined several more shapes waiting to be baked.

“Do we add spwinkles now, Hawwy?” she asked.

“Nope, after they’re done baking. Draco – got the next ball of dough ready?” he asked his brother. Harry had gathered the siblings together in the kitchen to have a bit of baking fun when the skies had opened up with torrential downpours that did not appear to be letting up anytime soon. The week had been uneventful so far since Severus had left to ready his classroom and brew stock potions for Madam Pomfrey. Narcissa had managed to keep everyone busy with continued lessons in dancing, fencing and estate management but without the defence class, their afternoons were their own. As much as the boys loved flying and practicing Quidditch moves – it became old pretty fast.

When the downpour had started after their last lesson, they had decided to play board games with their sister teaching her classic games such as Nine-Man Morris, Snakes and brooms and a card matching game similar to “Go fish”. This lasted for about an hour and a half before Callie got frustrated. That was when Harry had decided to bake sugar biscuits.

He hadn’t cooked since leaving the Dursleys and he was so far removed from that time in his life that even the thought of entering the kitchen and cooking was no longer abhorrent to him. In truth, when he wasn’t being forced to cook, he actually liked it – taking raw ingredients and preparing them for presentation and consumption. One of the reasons he also liked Potions at school – and chemistry in primary. So, he had led his siblings into the kitchen, commandeered a workspace and set out the ingredients, showing his brother and sister how to mix the dough, roll it out and use the rolled-tin shapes to cut out the biscuits.

Callie had squealed with excitement as she identified the shapes of animals and card suits. The elves had helped by bringing out coloured sugar, sprinkles and little candied silver balls. Harry had also mixed up several batches of icing, using food colour to get the different shades. The children quickly filled up a baking sheet and Draco popped it into the oven setting a timer for twelve minutes as they continued to roll out dough and cut it into more shapes – all laughing merrily as they got covered in bits of dough and flour.

)O-O(

Narcissa wandered through the manor, wondering where her children were. The last she knew they’d been in the small parlour teaching games to Calista. She had checked on them once before retreating to the library to complete various bits of correspondence needing her attention. Handling all the reins of the Malfoy empire was a challenge, but she hadn’t been raised to just be a trophy-wife; she’d had all the same instruction that the boys were getting and had been expected to know how to run an elite household as well as a business operation should her husband ever pre-decease her or become incapable of maintaining the estate. Thank Merlin for that preparedness as it was coming in handy now!

She could, of course, summon Runeskin to tell her where her charges had disappeared to, but she needed the exercise that a constitutional around the hallways would give her. A check of their rooms showed that the expected purchases from Diagon Alley had arrived – stacks of books, robes and various and sundry school items lay ready to be put away in the trunks. Severus insisted that the boys do their own packing – not to rely on House-elves at every turn.  Calista’s nursery was also empty of children and Narcissa lingered a moment to straighten up some toys that lay scattered in a corner. She frowned a bit, the child was getting old enough to start putting her own toys away – she would have to begin enforcing that over the year while the boys were away at school.

She continued her walk through the halls, heading down to the main level where a delightful smell of baking met her nose. She followed the wafting scent to the kitchens where she stood at the entrance watching as all three decorated the now cooling racks of biscuits. They stood together, each boy on either side of their sister, admiring her ham-handed attempts at decorating. It appeared as if more sprinkles and sugar were decorating the table-top and her youngest than the sugar biscuits, but they were all having fun, their laughter and giggles brightening the rain-filled afternoon. 

“Is this a below sixteen activity or can I join in as well?” she asked, walking over to stand across from them. All three looked at her with wide, but delighted, eyes and Harry answered by shoving a plate of naked biscuits in her direction.

“The more the merrier!” he declared and she pulled on an apron that an elf summoned for her and joined in the fun, admiring her daughter’s attempts and getting creative in her own right.

“Should we make up a basket for your father?” she asked after all the biscuits were decorated and the suggestion was met with approval – so they chose the best of the bunch by all four of them and had an elf make up a basket of biscuits, teas, breads and jams while Runeskin said he would make sure that Severus had it in time for afternoon tea. Another box was made up that Callie insisted had to go to Hermione and an owl was soon carrying the gift towards London. The quartet cleaned up their space before Narcissa shooed them off to take baths, carrying a giggling Callie up to the nursery herself.

)O-O(

“Master Severus?” said Runeskin as he popped into the parlour of the Potions Master’s quarters. The basket he was holding was nearly as large as he was but he knew his master would enjoy the contents.

“In here, Runeskin,” came the reply through the open door to the private lab. The elf levitated the basket to the dining table before approaching the lab entrance.

“Your family has sent you your tea today,” the elf said, smirking. His master quirked an eyebrow in his direction before sending a stasis spell at the potion he was making and walking over to the elf.

“Have they, now? Well, let’s see what is in there.” He eyed the basket warily then folded the bright green linen cover back to reveal the contents. The just-baked scent of the biscuits wafted up to him and he grinned. A quickly penned note from Narcissa let him know that the children had baked these for him and all had participated in the activity. The cookies were still warm and soft to his questing finger.

“Hmm, there is too much here for me alone, and biscuits like these need to be appreciated when still warm. I believe I shall take my tea up in the teachers’ lounge today, Runeskin. Here,” he reached in and extracted a box of his favourite brand of loose tea, “take this up to the lounge and start a large pot, would you and I’ll follow with the basket.” The elf nodded and disappeared with a snap of air while Severus, still grinning from ear to ear, put away the rest of the boxes of tea and a few of the rest of the goodies for a late evening nosh before leaving his quarters and ascending the stairs that led to the lounge. All of the instructors were back and getting ready and he was one of the few that did not regularly use the lounge at teatime each day. They would get a surprise today!

)O-O(

Minerva walked into the lounge, admiring the smell of freshly baked biscuits and fragrant tea when she was surprised by the sight of Severus unpacking a large wicker basket and setting out plates upon plates of baked goods and accompanying comfits on the long table that presided over one section of the room. His elf, Runeskin, was puttering about the tea service making sure the sugar bowl and creamer were full.

“What is that delightful scent?” came an enquiry behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see Pomona Sprout sniffing the air appreciatively. The two women eased into the room as Severus vanished the empty basket with a wave of his hand and began filling a plate with a selection of the pastries.

“Ladies, come in! My family has provided tea for us this afternoon – freshly baked and still warm...” he said enticingly. He smirked as the women hustled over to the table and made their own selections, exclaiming over the decorated sugar biscuits.

“You can almost tell who decorated which ones, can’t you?” Minerva commented and Snape nodded.  Calista’s were quite obvious, messy and childishly lopsided. Draco’s and Narcissa’s were precise, colour correct for the shape depicted and quite neatly done. Harry’s were fanciful – with the mark of someone who was just having fun. All were equally delicious, he mused as he munched on a pink shamrock covered in green sugar crystals.

Soon, the table was surrounded by admiring teachers taking their afternoon break. The newest teacher, Bill Weasley, grabbed his plate and went to join Severus.

“I want to thank you, Severus, for suggesting me for the position. Remus told me it was your idea,” he clarified at the raised eyebrow.

“Did he explain the situation?” Severus asked.

Bill shook his head. “He said you’d explain before classes start.”

“Join me in my rooms tonight, I’ll explain everything then – there is much you need to understand that was discovered last term. It will affect how you structure your classes,” he suggested, keeping his voice low and intimate. He watched covertly as Dumbledore entered the room, eyeing the table of goodies. “I need to go – seven o’clock, my rooms,” he hissed at the younger man.

He flowed out of the room, waving off a call from Albus with a curt, “I have a potion brewing, Albus!” and strode back to his rooms.

)O-O(

Bill Weasley sat stunned on the loveseat, ignoring the glass of sherry in his hand and staring at his colleague. Severus had just finished explaining to him the revelations that had occurred the previous year concerning the Headmaster and his manipulations of Harry. While Bill had been raised in a family that revered Albus Dumbledore and all his accomplishments, he was not blind to the man’s faults. He had never agreed with the notion that the Wizarding world should pin their hopes on a teenager, and he’d taken classes with Trelawney – there was no way that anything pouring from her mouth would be considered prophetic. This should be a task for the adults – ones with years more experience. Granted, Harry was talented – one had only to watch him during the previous year’s competition to see that – but he was still just a teenager.

“You’re certain of all this?” he asked, incredulously.

“Absolutely. He views Harry as his ace up his sleeve. He doesn’t understand yet – or rather refuses to understand – that Harry has ceased trusting him. By hiring the defence professors that he has, he’s virtually guaranteed that most of the children will not be able to defend themselves when the time comes. That is where you and Nymphadora come in: you will each teach a year, followed by me during Harry’s seventh year, and in this way can we ensure that quality professors will be teaching the subject in a consistent manner while honouring the curse on the position. We can coordinate our lesson plans. Furthermore, we have been training many of the children – the elite in defence in all the years, as well as many that we feel are at risk – all summer and will continue to do so through the year.

“As you know, my sons already have a rigorous training schedule they follow – we intend to expand that and include those students we trained this summer and recruit more to our little ‘study group’.” He sketched quotes in the air with his fingers and Bill smirked from his seat, finally taking notice of his sherry glass again, indulging in a long sip and leaning back into the cushions.

“Well, you can count on me. I was looking through the syllabi left behind by the other professors. Remus and Moody seem to be the only ones who actually taught anything; Lockhart was a joke – how anyone passed their NEWTs and OWLs that year is beyond my comprehension. Quirrell’s lesson plans were adequate although simplified. When you take into account he was possessed at the time – it makes a bit of sense. I’m sure He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn’t want the children trained either, beyond what was absolutely necessary to maintain the facade of teaching the class.  At least between the three of us we can ensure the next three years are taught correctly.”

Severus was nodding along in agreement. “Exactly. It was Harry’s choice to remain here after the revelations this past spring; if it had been solely my decision we’d be in another country by now. The Headmaster has put him at risk too many times so we will have to ensure that he doesn’t try anything again.”

“You will also have an ally in Poppy’s new apprentice this year – Fleur Delacour,” Bill smirked. Severus raised his eyebrow.

“She stayed behind?”

“She’s decided to improve her English pronunciation.” He reddened and took a quick sip of his drink. Severus quirked his eyebrow higher.

“I’m sure,” he drawled. “Well, that is actually good news – another hidden ace in the hole. I have no idea what Dumbledore will attempt this year and we have the Dark Lord back... all we can do is prepare and keep our eyes open.” He held out his hand to his friend. “Welcome to the team,” he said.

Bill heartily shook the hand and finished the last little bit of sherry. “Thanks, Severus. We’ll keep him safe,” he promised. Severus nodded as he showed the younger man to the door.

“I appreciate it, William. Have a good evening,” he said in farewell.

“You as well.” He waved his goodbye and headed up the corridor, head bowed in contemplation.

)O-O(

Harry balled up another piece of parchment and threw it at the bin next to his desk. He wanted to get this letter done! Silicia hissed in sympathy from her preferred position around his neck. He reached up to give her head a stroke as he gazed out the open doors to his balcony watching as tiny puff clouds scuttled across the sky. How he wished he could be flying among them – but he had promised himself he would answer Dudley’s letter before he headed back to school and this was his last afternoon.

He grabbed another fresh piece of parchment and dipped his quill in the ink.

Dudley, (He had foregone adding “Dear” to the heading of the letter early on.)

It was a pleasant surprise to hear from you last week. I’m glad you are doing well in your new school and I’m thankful you understand everything now. I’ve actually been thinking that you probably hated me for everything that happened and felt you probably would’ve been right to feel that way.

I’ve asked around and no one seems to know what the Dementor was doing in Surrey. He wasn’t supposed to be there and you were very lucky your Auror was there to protect you. I had to learn that charm two years ago to keep those things away from me. We think that someone is either trying to hurt me by hurting you, or is trying to take you out in a mistaken bid to protect me from you. Crazy either way. My father and his friends are looking into it and when we find out who let it loose, I will let you know.

In the meantime, stay with your Aurors and don’t talk to anyone about me – other than your therapist. If it’s who I think it is, you can trust him. (Did he give you a notebook to write things in? Do it, it’s helpful.)

Things are getting even more dangerous for me – the man who killed my parents is back. I barely survived our latest encounter with him. Dad is training me all the time now – even the type of hand to hand combat you liked. My brother and I have all sorts of people training us. Oh, yeah, I have a brother and a little sister; Draco and Calista. Dad adopted Draco and will be marrying their mother in the future. She’s really nice and Calista is quite the little diva.

I’m heading back to school tomorrow. You can write to me there – my head of house, Professor McGonagall, will bring me the letters.

As to your last question: that is so much harder. I forgave you a long time ago, Dudley. You were only following your parent’s example. I understand that. But I cannot forget. We could have been so close, Dudley; we could have been brothers just like Draco and I are. He was my rival in school before that summer. He reminded me so much of you at that time. But we overcame that and in a lot of ways he is my closest companion.

I’d like to learn about you – what you like to do and so on. I’d like us to try again and be friends – if you are willing. We are blood relatives, Dudley; we are each other’s closest relative outside of our parent’s generation. We should be there for each other.

Let me know what you think.

Harry P-S.

Harry let out a huge sigh when it was completed. He blotted and folded it up to place in the return envelope to Dudley’s school and woke up Hedwig, handing her a treat to munch while he tied the letter to her leg.

“Take this to Whitney, girl. He’ll get it to Dudley discretely.” She gave him a little nibble on the knuckle that he was using to stroke her chest feathers then, with a blink of her eyes, shook her wings out and made to take off through the open door. “And head back to Hogwarts when you’re done!” Harry yelled out after her. She cheeped in reply as her strong wings took her high into the cloud strewn sky.

Harry watched as she became a tiny speck on the horizon then disappeared into the clouds. He turned around to find Draco leaning on his doorpost, Onyx relaxing in his arms.

“Finally wrote back?”

Harry shuffled over to start picking up his litter of crumpled starts, making sure they made it into the bin that gulped happily as each piece hit its gullet. “Yeah. Took me long enough, but I got it written. Looking forward to returning?” he asked with a grin.

Draco shrugged. “I suppose. This year is going to be dull though – no tournament!”

Harry snorted. “Nice and quiet is what I’m hoping for. Although, when have I ever had a quiet year?”

“True, little brother, tragically true.” He yelped and dropped his cat when he got a face full of pillow for his cheekiness. “This means WAR!” he roared and grabbed the pillow, launching it at his laughing brother.

Severus, knowing how his children loved pillow fights, had charmed all the bedroom pillows to not split, no matter what kind of force was applied. One time of feathers all over the dungeons was enough. Now the boys could wale at each other as much as they liked and no feathers would be scattered.

This particular fight managed to make it to the stairs where they encountered a wide-eyed Calista who was dragging a beloved stuffed rabbit behind her. Draco and Harry took one look at her, then at each other before taking off after her with her mock screaming and giggling at the same time as they ran to the other wing where her nursery was.

The three children barged into the playroom, tossing the pillows on the floor and tumbling after them, laughing all the while, red faced and eyes bright.

“Boys, have you packed yet?”

Harry and Draco froze, turning only their heads to view Narcissa standing above them tapping her foot.

“Erm, no?” Harry ventured.

“Speak for yourself, Harry – I finished hours ago,” Draco responded smugly.

“Bully for you!” Harry muttered as he rolled over and pushed himself upright, yanking his pillows out from under Draco, reclaiming them. The fact that Draco’s head bounced off the floor was just an added bonus.  “I’ll go pack now,” he sighed as he trudged out of the nursery.

“Draco, you could offer to help,” Narcissa chided.  Draco shook his head while rubbing the back of it ruefully.

“Dad won’t let me – besides, he’s had all day,” he pointed out. He sat up and leaned back against a small Calista-sized table, smiling as his little sister climbed into his lap, dragging her rabbit with her. He proceeded to start tickling the little girl with the rabbit; bouncing it all over her body and delighting in her giggles.

“What has he been doing instead?” Narcissa asked.

“Writing back to Dudley. He said it was harder than it looked.” He shrugged. “If all the wadded up pieces of parchment on his floor were any indication... Anyway, it got done and Hedwig is taking it to Whitney.”

“Whitney?”

“Our therapist. We think he’s helping Dursley, now.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised.

“Dad didn’t tell you? We saw him pretty regularly that first year and then off and on during third year. He was very helpful. Those charmed notebooks Harry and I write in? Those were his idea. We saw him again after the third task this spring.”

)O-O(

Draco woke to murmuring in the dungeon rooms. He thought Harry might be having nightmares again, so he got up to check on his brother but instead found the other bed empty, covers tossed back. Slipping on his dressing gown and sliding his feet into his slippers, he made his way to the bedroom door, quietly easing it open to see if he could hear better what was going on.

A soft, flickering light spilled down the hallway from the sitting room fireplace. He could just see Harry’s head peeking over the back of the sofa in profile and hear the murmuring of deeper male voices talking to him. He could tell by the way Harry was holding himself that he was jammed into a corner of the sofa, knees upright and shielding him from the world. He could identify the melodious tones of his father and it seemed as if the other might belong to Whitney.

Well, he could understand that. Whitney had been visiting that afternoon at their father’s behest, checking up on them after all they’d been through. He’d held individual and a group session after dinner. They’d all had a horrific time of it recently – Harry most of all. No wonder his brother had been having nightmares all week. As much as he wanted to go cry on Whitney’s shoulder as well concerning his father’s demise, he knew this was Harry’s time.

He eased the door closed and stopped at his desk on his way back to bed to grab his current journal and its ever-present biro. He would journal tonight – that always helped. Maybe it would give him enough perspective.

)O-O(

“No, he didn’t tell me – but I’m glad you have. I take it this therapist has helped?” she asked as she picked up the nursery, encouraging Calista to help her by handing her toys and directing the child to place them in their storage bins.

“Yes. I don’t think Harry or I would be as well-adjusted without him. Dad is great, don’t get me wrong, but Whitney could talk to us without getting all emotional about the situations we had been in. Dad would get angry on our behalf and want to go do something – when there was nothing he could do! Whitney gave us ways to cope and tools to see our way through the bitterness and anger we both felt.”

He played a bit with the corner of the throw-pillow in his lap before looking up at his mother. “They both helped me with my anger towards you,” he whispered.

Narcissa slowly turned around and walked back over to where her son still sat on the floor. Summoning a low hassock to sit on, she reached out to tilt his face up to where he looked her in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Draco, that I had to treat you that way. It was the only way I could see to save you – oddly enough.” She sighed, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. “I had to take the heat off of you, don’t you see? I had to do things for you where he wouldn’t notice them...”

“I know that now – but for a time I was extremely angry at you for letting him treat me that way. But dad set me to rights and Whitney helped a lot as well. I don’t feel that way anymore – haven’t for quite a while.” He smiled up at her and leaned forward to give her a peck on her cheek. “I better go check on Harry – just because I can’t help doesn’t mean I can’t supervise and sometimes he can be a bit scatterbrained!” He grinned mischievously and stood up to head out the door.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, Harry instinctively smothered a yell as he awoke in his room, his heart thumping so hard and loud he thought it might burst through his chest. Moonlight spilled through the French doors, illuminating the room in silvers and greys. As his eyes and brain adjusted to the quiet and familiarity of the room, the disturbing dream vanished in wisps that he tried to capture but they slipped through his spectral fingers like water.

Untangling himself from the bedclothes and violently kicking them away, he sat up, breathing hard, and willed his heart rate back to a steady beat, taking deep, slow breaths as his father had taught him. Why couldn’t he remember? It still left him feeling uneasy – but about what? Somehow, it didn’t seem important anymore, he decided while continuing to breathe deeply. Calming down, he padded into his loo and splashed some cool water on his face, taking time to drink some as well.

The water helped to wash away more of his lingering fear and unease and he was able to return to bed and finish out the night in a more peaceful sleep.

)O-O(

Harry weighed the mokeskin bag in his hand, tossing it up and down and feeling the weight of the galleons inside smack into his hand, imagining it smacking into his soul each and every time. This was blood money – money he had won and paid for with his own blood in order to bring back to life the murderer of his mother and stepfather.

He had finally made a decision as to what to do with the Tri-Wizard award money and he was sure it was the right decision – but he wasn’t entirely sure the rest of the Wizarding World would see it his way. But, his father had left it up to him and he was sure this was the way to go.

He smiled, content in his choice, as he tucked the magical bag in his blazer pocket and, grabbing his cloak off his bed, departed his room at the manor ready to face the academic world once again.

)O-O(

Kings Cross station was one of the busiest places in London on a normal day. Office workers, sales reps and executives running to catch trains that would take them everywhere around the United Kingdom; blaring voices from the intercoms overhead announcing arrivals and departures and lost children; trains belching steam or squealing their brakes and sounding their horns; Porters pushing large carts and trolleys overflowing with baggage, barging their way through the crowds screaming at patrons to move out of the way; conductors yelling their boarding calls into the maddening crowds, trying to herd the passengers into the waiting compartments.

Add to this the addition of the start of a new school term and the traffic became nearly unbearable. Children and their loving guardians were hurrying to find the trains that would take them away for another year of privileged learning at the nation’s best schools. Some of these students were already dressed in their school uniform, looking largely bored while waiting to board. Large trunks packed with all their belongings stood nearby while over-protective mothers wiped at non-existent stains on their progeny’s faces and fathers fidgeted nearby reeling off lists of items said progeny was supposed to have included in their packing and were they sure they had packed it all? Others were still in street attire, and they all screamed and called out in loud, enthusiastic voices as they met up with school chums they hadn’t seen for the past eight to ten weeks.

A few of the children seemed to be wearing clothing a little out of date and some of their parents looked like they were getting ready to attend a fancy dress party afterwards. These children not only had the ubiquitous schools trunks emblazoned with their names or initials and the name of their school or its crest, but almost all of them also included a cage or carrier of some kind that held an animal. And not your everyday dog or cat – although a large portion had feline companions – but they also held things like toads, rats and owls. Who, in their right mind, would have a pet owl?

All of these strange looking students and parents seemed to never go past Platform ten. But if the conductor had checked the trains on Platforms nine and ten, he would never have found the missing people – because they had disappeared half-way between.

Into this crowd, parting the hordes with her strength of character, strode an aristocratic woman in a finely tailored woollen and silk suit with three children trailing behind her. The two older boys dressed nearly like twins; slacks, blazers and button-down shirts. The differences lay in their ties – one green and silver, the other scarlet and gold – and in their looks. One was pale as moonlight and the other had hair black as midnight.

Holding her mother’s gloved hand, the youngest member matched the pale boy in looks and skipped merrily along, her eyes wide in wonder as she absorbed the sights and sounds of the busy station. Like so many others before them, the family approached the brick pylon between the two platforms and seemed to disappear from view during a belch of steam from the nearby train on Track ten.

Narcissa Malfoy checked the large clock that stood off to the side of the platform – ten-thirty. They’d arrived with enough time to spare. The boys had found an empty compartment and were already loading their trunks onboard while waiting for their friends to appear. Slowly the platform filled with more families and the members of the defence group were gravitating to the area around Draco and Harry catching up on the gossip since they’d last seen each other a week ago.

Narcissa took condolences from other Pure-blood parents concerning the loss of her husband, even as they looked askance at the two dichotomous boys entertaining their friends together. Although she kept her face closed off and was polite to everyone who approached her, inside she rather wished she could scream out to the Wizarding world, and the sycophants who still followed the Dark Lord, what type of man Lucius Malfoy truly had been.

A happy cry from her youngest warned of an approaching friend and Narcissa turned to see Hermione Granger reaching down to pick up Calista, bestowing a heart-felt hug to the little girl. Her parents the... Narcissa paused to remember... Dentists – were halted behind her, hands steadying her trolley.

“Mr and Mrs Granger, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted them as Draco warmly greeted his girlfriend. “Your daughter is quite an asset to her school,” she complimented. “And we loved having her visit over the summer.”

Mrs Granger blushed prettily. “We are glad she is doing so well and has made so many friends. She was especially pleased when you made her godmother to Calista. Thank you for that.” She smiled over at the pretty picture the two girls made as Luna Lovegood cooed over the tot in her daughter’s arms.

“I believe it was the best decision,” Narcissa said watching the girls interact, a small smile gracing her face. Out of the corner of her eye she espied the bright jewel-toned hair that was the signature of her niece and she excused herself from the group, walking over to the Auror.

“Dora,” she greeted in a friendly manner.

“Aunt Cissy,” Tonks responded questioningly.

“If you would give this to your mother, I would greatly appreciate it. I didn’t want to entrust it to the owl service – I’ve been getting reports it isn’t as safe as it once was.” She handed a sealed envelope to her niece before inclining her head in a farewell gesture and returning to the gathering crowd of students and parents. She could feel Nymphadora’s eyes following her, but she knew the response that was written in the return missive could only garner good; healing some long term family wounds.

All too soon the conductor’s voice was ringing out, crying “All aboard!” and parents were giving last minute hugs, ensuring their children had all of their belongings on them and, as usual, the Weasleys showed up with barely five minutes to spare, rushing through the barrier at a run en masse and hurrying to find seats on the train, the older boys tossing the trunks through open carriage doors to waiting friendly hands before being pulled in themselves after making sure their sister had found a seat. And not a moment too soon as they closed the door and the train began to pull away.

Arthur and Molly stood near Narcissa, waving to their children with Molly calling out warnings to the twins to behave. Arthur said in an aside to Narcissa, “As if they would ever follow that admonition!” and she was hard put not to laugh outright.

“How many owls a year from the headmaster do you get for those two?” she asked, amused.

“Probably not as many as we should,” he revealed. “Severus is quite creative in keeping them busy in his ‘detentions’ throughout the year. As set as they are on going into business for themselves, I’m surprised they even came back this year – but it is probably the threat of Molly’s spoon to their backsides if they didn’t that decided them.” He watched as the train picked up speed, waving a few times to his various progeny as they stuck their heads out the windows and called back to their parents. “Well, that’s that for another year. Good to see you again, Narcissa – yes and you too, Calista,” he said, stroking the little girl’s curls before offering Molly his arm and walking back towards the barrier.

Narcissa waited until the train had gone around a bend and was no longer in sight before she turned on the spot, Apparating to the Malfoy Manor.

)O-O(

“Hey, guys,” Harry greeted the twins as they met in the train corridor. The compartment his friends had appropriated was quite jammed with kids and he’d needed some breathing room so had opted to take a walk.

“Harry-kins, what...”

“...can we do you out of?” they twin-spoke him.

Harry grinned. This was perfect. He looked around, making sure they were alone for a few moments before waving them closer.

“Actually, the question is: what can I do for you?” he hinted.

“Gred, I’m intrigued...”

“So’m I, Forge. What could our honorary little brother be up to?” They both crossed their arms and gazed down on Harry who was still a few inches shorter than them.

He reached into his blazer pocket and drew out the bag of Tri-Wizard winnings. He eyed it a moment before grabbing George’s hand and firmly depositing the bag into it.

“Harry...”

“...Is this what we think this is?” They looked in awe upon the official Games Ministry stamp on the outside of the bag.

Harry crossed his arms in turn, giving them no chance to return it. “If you think that it is my earnings from the Tri-Wizard tourney, you’d be correct. Look, I don’t need the money – and I certainly don’t want it after the way I was forced to obtain it. Half of it should be Cedric’s – but he refused it as well. Dad convinced me to wait until I could find a worthy cause that could use the money. I believe that with Voldemort’s return and all the seriousness that the war will inevitably bring, we need some laughter to fall back upon. And Zonko’s really needs the competition – their products are becoming very lame. I expect you to use those galleons in a productive manner befitting a pair of Loki’s devotees, such as yourselves.”

“We are definitely not worthy,” they whispered as one in awe.

“But we will gladly take up your gauntlet. We even have our eye on some premises in Diagon Alley...”

“...and loads of ideas for product lines. We were planning on introducing some in school this year,”

“Simply in a product testing mode, of course,” Fred promised, innocently. Harry didn’t trust that statement at all.

“In fact, have some of our samples – it’s never too early to stock up in case we’ve gained another lame teacher this year!” George said, pulling out a small box jam-packed with various candies of all shapes, sizes and colours. “The descriptions are on the lid – this is our sampler box. As our first and largest investor, we insist that you take it with you. Now, we must be off...”

“So many things to do...”

“... children to corrupt.”

“But you won’t regret this, Harry. Anything we make, you can have for free –“

“For life!” they stated together as they clasped his hands, pumping his arms in enthusiasm before grinning and heading back down the corridor.

Harry shook his head - and the feeling back into his arms - and took off in the opposite direction heading back to his compartment and his friends. He felt as if a huge weight had just been lifted off of his chest – and he felt happy.

)O-O(

“So, we are definitely starting the defence group back up?” Neville asked as the large group of friends walked up the staircase towards the Great Hall doors on their way to the Welcoming Feast.

“Absolutely. Dad said he would sponsor the group as a study group,” Harry said. “Has anyone heard who our new DADA teacher is? Ron – why’d you stop?” Harry asked as he bumped into his friend who’d stopped at the doorway to the Great Hall.

Ron gulped audibly and pointed towards the head table. “Because I think I know the answer to your question... It’s Bill!” His friends crowded around him, peering into the hall at the head table.  Only protests and prodding from other students queuing up behind them got the group moving and splitting up to their various tables, Ron still flabbergasted at the sight of his oldest brother sitting next to Snape in the Defence Professor’s spot. Then he spotted his brother’s other eating companion and stopped again, causing Harry and Hermione to run into him a second time.

“Ron, will you stop that!” Hermione huffed, forcing her way past her oblivious friend and taking a seat at the table. She finally grabbed his arm in frustration and yanked him onto the bench as well. “What were you looking at?”

“She’s back...” he murmured, somewhat entranced.

“Who’s back?” she said, exasperated.

“Fleur Delacour!” Ron exclaimed and all the boys at the table whipped their heads around, pinning their sights on the French beauty, lately from Beuxbatons Academy.

Hermione gazed on the quarter-Veela for a moment. “She’s dressed in a nursing assistant’s uniform – she must be helping out Madam Pomfrey this term. I see she’s kept up her friendship with Bill,” she said in an uninterested voice.

“Anyone know who that woman is next to Dumbledore? Only she’s looking very chummy with him,” Harry asked, taking in the third new face at the Head Table. This one was a squat woman whose fashion sense seemed grossly out of place in the earthy colours of the school. She was dressed all in pink, including a large pink bow on her dishwater blond hair, and matching shoes peeked out from underneath the table. She was in an animated conversation with the Headmaster, simpering all over him.

“No idea,” Hermione stated. “But I’m sure we will soon find out. Look, Dumbledore’s getting up.”

Instead, it was time for the sorting and after all thirty-five fresh new faces were sorted into their houses, the tables filled with mounds of food that distracted everyone from the enigmas that were sitting at the teachers’ long table. Ron had piled his plate high and was quickly making inroads into the enormous amount of food, complaining about how his parents and brothers were always keeping important information from him. Ginny and Hermione studiously ignored him, preferring to talk to those who could be understood without trying to talk around a mouth stuffed to the brim.

Every now and then, Hermione would flash Draco a smile across the tables, rolling her eyes at Ron’s antics. Draco laughed and, in turn, pointed out Ron to Luna and Anthony.

Soon enough, the plates and platters were magically removed and Dumbledore rose once again to give out start of term announcements.

“Welcome once again to a new term at Hogwarts!” he began. “We have a few introductions and start of term announcements to make before I can release you to your pillows. Mr Filch has added twenty new items to his banned list; the revised list is posted in each common room this year instead of on his office door in the hopes that some of you may actually heed its contents.” He peered over his glasses directly at the Weasley twins who unashamedly grinned back at him.

“All students are reminded that the Forbidden Forest is actually forbidden. Third years are reminded to have their Hogsmeade permission slips signed by their parents or guardians before they may participate in an excursion to the town and, as you can see, we have three new faces gracing our head table behind me. Two of them are known to many of you. I would like to reintroduce Miss Fleur Delacour, who was here last year as a participant in the Tri-Wizard Tourney.” Polite applause greeted her introduction and she sat down, blushing prettily. “She will be helping Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary.

“Next to her is your new Defence of the Dark Arts teacher, an Alumnus and former Head boy from the class of Eighty-six, Bill Weasley.” Cheers rang from the Gryffindor table with the chant of “Weasley, Weasley” being started by Fred and George and picked up by the rest of the upper years. Bill laughed, bowed to the adoration, then finally used his hands in a quieting motion to get the students to hush down before sitting back down himself.

“Yes, and we have a guest administrator visiting us this year; Under-Secretary Dolores Umbridge from the Ministry of Magic. She will be helping me evaluate our schools methods of teaching to make sure we are within Ministry guidelines and requirements. I’m sure you will all join me in giving her a warm welcome.”

“Ministry teaching guidelines?” Ron asked sotto voce as the room clapped half-heartedly for the stranger. “I thought Hogwarts was self governed!”

Hermione looked questioningly up at the smiling woman who was beaming at the entire hall, her smile more of a self-satisfied smirk. “It is, Ron,” she hissed back. “It’s always been independent of the Ministry. The board of Governors makes the decisions regarding our curriculum. With her here, the Ministry is trying to infiltrate the school. My question is: who decided she needed to come? The Ministry, the Governors or Dumbledore?”

Harry could not miss the glares his father and his head of house were giving the pink woman as she stood to accept the weak applause. She looked as if she was about to say something but Dumbledore quickly overrode her, dismissing everyone to their dormitories for the night. Ron and Hermione, both of whom sported shiny new Gryffindor Prefect badges on their robes, led the first years away letting the rest of the house meander back to the portrait hole on their own.

)O-O( 

Harry stomped up the stairs to the dormitory, his emotions near the breaking point. First night back and already several gits had tried to label him a liar when they flourished press clippings in his face that called into question his story about Voldemort being back in power.

He slammed the door open to the room, bouncing it off the stone wall where it nearly ricocheted back into his face. That’s all he needed, another scar to match the first one. He ripped off his tie and flung it on his chair, the pullover following soon after. A discrete cough behind him had him whipping around, wand at the ready until he saw it was Neville. He grunted at his friend, not trusting his voice at this point, and continued with his slap-dash manner of changing his clothes – kicking off his shoes and hearing them hit the wall with a satisfying smack.

“Ermm, Hermione sent up here to see if you were alright,” Neville explained. Harry gave him a Snape look number four: Sarcastic disbelief.

“Peachy,” he added with a tone that matched the raised eyebrow. “Love being called an attention seeking prat and a liar.” He flipped open his trunk lid and hunted for the nearest pair of pyjamas, tossing them on the bed along with his shower bag and slamming the trunk closed. He really liked the way the sound reverberated off the stone walls, making Neville wince. “What do they need for proof? Voldemort standing in front of them with a wand pointed at their heads and an AK on his lips? My father and Auror Moody were there – Merlin, eight other Aurors were there and they all corroborated my story. What else do they need?” As Neville opened his mouth to comment, Harry waved it shut. “Don’t answer that. It’s obvious the Ministry is trying to cover it up – good luck to them. And while they’re dithering in their parlours, Voldemort is standing outside the door just waiting for the light to go off before storming the place. Why do I even try? No, don’t answer that either.”

Neville stood there, frustration clear on his face as his friend ranted.

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better, although I really doubt it. Truly, is it too much to ask to have one normal year? Don’t answer that...” he muttered as he walked past the sighing Neville, night clothes and shower bag in his arms. He closed the bathroom door – loudly – and stood under the hot water until he turned into a prune.

)O-O(

Severus could feel Harry’s irritation thrumming along their connection and monitored the situation from afar. Every slam of an object reverberated down the golden thread and Severus could feel the magic building from there. Expecting a blow-up, he anticipated being called to the Lion’s Den in order to bring peace to the chaos – but it never materialised. Instead, Harry drowned his anger in the hot water and, soon after, Severus felt his son drift into dreamland. If only they were going to be pleasant dreams – but, as usual, they weren’t.

The incident in the Common Room sparked the nightmares. Unfortunately, their connection did not let Severus see what the content was. However, he had long ago charmed the boys’ dorm beds to let him know when violent nightmares occurred. He would wake up immediately and floo to the House in question arriving – usually - in time to gently wake the child and offer comfort and Dreamless Sleep potion before they managed to wake their dorm mates.

Tonight he arrived to an empty Common Room littered with books, games and magazines as well as tossed sweet wrappers and wadded up bits of parchment that had missed nearby waste-bins. Obviously the House-elves had yet to arrive for their nightly duty. He silently picked his way amongst the detritus and ghosted up the spiral staircase bypassing several other doors until he came to Harry’s dormitory.

Easing the door open, he was greeted by the sounds of snores from the other four beds and the sounds of his son tossing about in his sleep. He slowly approached the bed, his low lumos casting grey shadows across the rest of the room. Silicia raised her head from her coiled position around the bedpost, hissing her distress at him. He nodded at her as he silently warded the area around Harry’s bed so that they wouldn’t wake the others, perching himself on the edge of the mattress and reaching out a hand to gently wake him. As soon as his fingers touched Harry’s shoulder his son jerked back violently, waking suddenly and looking disoriented, biting back a cry of fright. He scrambled to the far corner of the mattress, huddled upon himself and breathing rapidly, obviously not recognizing Severus in his addled state.

“Harry,” Severus said quietly, “it is just me; it’s Dad.”

Shivering in the night air, Harry fought his way back to full awareness, his breaths ragged and gulping as his eyes darted around trying to make sense of the oddly lit room. Severus intensified his wand light, bringing things into clearer focus and Harry’s gaze finally landed on the figure across from him.

“Dad?” he whispered, as if not sure that was who was really there.

“Yes, Harry, it’s me. You were having a nightmare, do you remember?” he asked while conjuring a glass and filling it with a whispered aguamenti. He handed the water to Harry who took it with a shaking hand and gulped greedily from its depths. Lowering the nearly empty glass, he drew it close to his chest and huddled around it, nodding his head in answer.

“A little. Not much though, and its fading quickly. I’m just left with really disturbing feelings – like last night.”

Severus raised his eyebrow. “Last night?” He inwardly cursed; he’d forgotten to key Narcissa into the monitoring charms for the boys while she’d overseen them at the Manor. He could be forgiven somewhat, it had been weeks since either Draco or Harry had experienced any nightmares of the violent sort and the charm on the Manor only reached to him when he was there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Was it the same dream?”

Harry, calmer now and starting to relax, shrugged. “It feels the same, a little worse actually, but I can’t remember anything at all of what they were about. I – I just get an impression...” he faltered as his face scrunched up while trying to capture the fading memory. “No, now it’s gone. Sorry,” he apologized, peering over at his father.

“No matter. Here is some Dreamless Sleep so you can get some rest.” Placing a small phial on the bedside table, he held the covers up so Harry could arrange himself back into the centre of the mattress before tucking them back around the teen. He handed the tiny bottle over and watched as it was consumed entirely, taking the empty back and hiding it in an inner pocket. He reached out and brushed the hair away from his son’s face as the potion took affect and Harry’s eyes began to droop. When he thought Harry had succumbed, he started to rise but was stopped by a hand gripping his robes. He looked over to see green eyes staring at him.

“Dad... thanks,” his son whispered, this time in gratitude. Severus let a slight smile touch his lips as he bent over to place a kiss on the boy’s forehead and the hand relaxed its grip, dropping back to the covers and a little sigh of relief was released from his son’s lips as he drifted back to sleep. Severus drew the covers back up and nox-ed his wand before gliding back out of the room, as silently as he’d entered.

)O-O(

Draco looked around his father’s workout room which had been expanded, the racks of weapons and workout equipment pushed to the corners and gymnastic mats now took up the centre portion of the room. The Defence study group surrounded the mats, murmuring to each other as they gathered in small groupings. The Snape brothers and their closest friends had commandeered one corner. They were all waiting for Snape to appear, wondering what the professor had in store for them.

Draco mused that if they added any more to their group, they would need a larger room. This one had been expanded to its limits, as it was, and it was still uncomfortably cosy. He reflected on the past few days as they had settled back into a new term and its routines.

Things had obviously changed in the world, even if the Ministry was attempting to put a benign face on it. Disappearances had already begun and the news that Karkorof’s body had been found in a remote sheep herder’s hut in the Scottish highlands had headlined the Daily Prophet just that morning. Bill Weasley had turned out to be a godsend to the Defence curriculum, setting up clear course objectives for each year and making sure each year was well grounded before moving on to new material. As most of the students were discovering, the Ministry observer – Dolores Umbridge – was a very un-welcome addition to the staff.

She had already begun observing and questioning the teachers about their expertise in the fields they were teaching; what their course objectives were for each level and –this was the kicker – what relevance it would have in the outside world. It had only been one week and already the woman had reduced Professors Burbage and Trelawney to tears. McGonagall went around with a near permanent scowl on her face, and Severus had been the only teacher who’d managed to glare at her until she squeaked and hightailed it out of his classroom. He was the only one she now studiously avoided. About the only staff that did not seem concerned that she was there were Filch, the caretaker, and Dumbledore - who was overly polite to the witch. She also seemed to have contempt for people who had magical beings in their genetic makeup like Fleur, Flitwick and Hagrid.

Although she couldn’t really do much to Hagrid at the moment as he’d yet to make an appearance. Dumbledore had sent him on some sort of mission over the summer. He’d been due back before classes had started, but had yet to show up and the headmaster had to make a snap decision the first week of classes to hire a substitute until the half-giant could be found. Fang, his boarhound, had stayed behind with Professor Sprout but spent most of his days laying near the entrance to his master’s hut, misery and longing for his friend evident on his face.   

As it was fifth year for most of the study group attendees, they were already feeling the stress from their upcoming O.W.L. exams which would determine what they would be studying for the last two years of their schooling. Ron was under the gun from his mother, having earned a prefecture, and was expected to perform better than the twins who’d managed to scrap by with only a handful of OWLs between the pair of them. Draco himself was already being hounded by his girlfriend, Hermione, into spending more free time in the library. The group of friends had permanently taken over a study room in the back of the library and Hermione had already moved in dozens of books for handy research and revising. He felt it was going be a very long year.

Everyone jumped as the door banged open and Severus, accompanied by Bill Weasley, entered the room.

“As you know, we intended to continue the summer defence group through the school term,” Severus began as he paced the centre of the room. “You are our core group. You will be the examples for your classmates. All of you are cognizant of the danger that exists beyond these walls – whether the Ministry wishes to acknowledge it or not. You need the skills that will keep you, your friends and your family alive!” He paused; scanning the room and making each student feel as if they were being examined under a microscope. Several shuffled their feet as they felt his gaze strike them.

Harry and Draco were used to this, however, and just met his gaze without shrinking. He acknowledged them with a final nod. “Now, these first few sessions will be held here. But we want to expand this group – we will need a bigger space. In a few weeks we will be meeting in the Room of Requirement - also known as the “Come and go” room – located on the seventh floor. Professor Weasley and I will be taking turns monitoring the group and setting projects, but you will be the ones teaching the younger students and your friends who are not as up to speed as you are. Your assignment, for each one of you, for the lesson two weeks from now is to bring three of your friends with you. Now, Professor Weasley and I are going to demonstrate some new shields for you then you will break up into pairs and practice. Observe!”

The two teachers faced each other across the mats, wands at the ready – arms loose, prepared to snap up in a blink of an eye. Taking measure, Severus underhanded a spell towards Bill, which was blocked with a shield that flared purple, absorbing the impact of the curse. Appreciative murmuring was heard around the room and Draco looked over at his brother who had an intense look of concentration on his face.

“Pair up!” Professor Weasley soon announced after teaching the movements to the group and Draco found himself being grabbed by the upper arm by his brother and marched over to an open space on the mats. He tossed a “What can I do?” look back at Hermione who huffed good-naturedly and paired off with Ginny Weasley. That was someone who had blown everyone, except her brothers, away with her magical strength this summer. However, as Luna pointed out, she was the seventh offspring of a seventh offspring – her father and her mother were both seventh children. She had become one of the most powerful witches in the entire school – her hexes already legendary.

Draco turned back to his brother, concentrating on the shield form that Bill had demonstrated for them. It was a twist with your wand in... that direction and a flick back the other way... He practiced a few moments before Harry sent a jinx toward him and he reacted quickly, but without enough power and the Jinx, while slowed down, still managed to make it through his shield causing him to break out in spots all over his face. He frowned at his brother who was giggling across from him.

“Really? A pox jinx? That was all you could think of?” he accused the giggling maniac. This only made Harry laugh louder. He soon sobered up, though, when Draco sent a stunner in his direction and he had to hastily erect his shield. Like his brother, his wasn’t powered enough and the curse got through and managed to knock him back a few inches.

In fact, the only student who managed not to create a weak shield on their first try was Ginny Weasley. Hers flared purple as it fully absorbed the jinx Hermione had shot at her and she was grinning from ear to ear at the praise her eldest brother was giving her.

“What is going on here?” a shrill voice cut through the room, and all sound ceased as heads turned, unbelieving, toward the doorway to behold Madam Umbridge standing there in all her pink glory, livid, clipboard gripped in white knuckled hands.

“Pardon?” Bill Weasley asked politely as he paced towards her, Severus coming in from the other side of the room looking very much like a great cat stalking its prey. Students judiciously moved towards the back of the room, far away from the inevitable confrontation.

Faced with the handsome Defence teacher, Umbridge puffed up like an adder. “I asked what was going on here! Why are all these students gathered here in the dungeon practicing dark spells!”

“Dark spells? I hardly think that the Astroviolacens shield qualifies as a ‘Dark spell’,” Bill speculated. “In fact, it has been a part of the curriculum of this school for the last seventy years.”

“For NEWT level students only!” she shrieked, her high voice ringing in the room causing several of the students to wince in pain as their ears hurt. “I only see four students that qualify as NEWT level,” she pointed out.

“Yes, well, all the students in this sanctioned study group are advanced students of defence, well beyond their classmates in skill and knowledge. We are making sure that they stay challenged by supervising and leading this group. It is well within our purview as teachers,” Severus clarified. By now both professors were blocking her view of the exercise room and crowding her back out the door.

“We shall see about that!” she spluttered. “There are many things wrong in this school and my report back to Dumbledore and the Minister shall reflect that. Teaching students Auror level spells indeed. What need have they to learn these spells? What use could it possibly have for young students?”

Harry, who was nearby mumbled sarcastically to his brother, “Oh, I don’t know... protect ourselves when we’re attacked by dark wizards – hypothetically of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes. But Umbridge had heard them, as had their father who glared at them behind Weasley’s back.

“And who do you think would be attacking students, Mr Potter?” she directed toward Harry.

All three Snapes turned their glares towards the woman. “That’s Mr Potter-Snape!” Harry growled back, peeved. Really, it had been three years since Harry and Severus had discovered their heritage – why was the rest of the world so slow in remembering it? “And I don’t know – Maybe Voldemort? Since he’s only tried to kill me three times now... And tried to kill Cedric last spring... But maybe I was wrong; maybe I only thought I was transported to a creepy graveyard where a whole bunch of Death Eaters showed up and my blood was used to restore Voldemort to his body. Maybe I just imagined that he duelled me until my father and Auror Moody showed up with eight other Aurors to fight those imaginary Death Eaters. Dad, were those fake Death Eaters last spring?” Harry directed towards his father who was trying hard not to gape openly at his cheeky son. The father quickly recovered, though.

“Oh, no, they were quite real. I recognised quite a number of them, in fact, including the Dark Lord himself.” He returned his stare to the woman fuming in his doorway. She was turning a very nice shade of purple and he took note of her left carotid pulsing in her neck.

“Lies!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “All lies!” She turned back towards Harry. “You should be punished for the lies you are spreading, you naughty child!”

“Oh, I assure you, Madam Undersecretary, this is the unvarnished truth. There shall be no punishments given for speaking the truth. And we,” Severus indicated towards Bill and himself, “intend to make sure that these students can protect themselves when He comes for this school – and I can say unequivocally, He will come for this school.” Bells chimed overhead signalling the twenty minute warning before curfew was enforced. “Now if you don’t mind, several of these students have quite a long hike to return to their dorms. I need to release them now and you are blocking their route.”

“This is not the end of this, Snape!” she warned as she stormed off in a huff.

“I’m sure it’s not...” he murmured as he watched to make sure she continued towards the stairs leading from the dungeon. “Alright, time to head back. Boys, are you staying?” he asked as the children begin flowing out of the room, murmuring amongst themselves and followed discretely by Bill Weasley to make sure the Undersecretary didn’t accost the children on their way back to their houses.

“If you don’t mind?” Draco asked after getting a confirming nod from his brother.

“Not at all. Let’s get this straightened up first.” He waited until the last stragglers had said good night to the brothers then waved his wand, restoring the room to its former configuration and size. When the last wall had scraped its way back into place and the last mat folded and stacked, he led his sons out the door, nox-ing the lights behind him.

Two weeks. It had been two very long weeks since the pink monstrosity had strutted into the dungeon classroom. Two full weeks of her further “Inspections”, and with one stroke she had added the DADA and Potions master to her growing list of highly questionable teachers and their curriculum.

The students all eyed her warily, unsure as to her true target, and the teachers had all adopted a sour demeanour. Thus, it should not have come as much of a surprise to find that the Weasley brand of pranking had started early this term.

It had begun with the twins selling their sample boxes to naive first and second years. Their business boomed within days with a subsequent rise in students from all years and houses suddenly becoming sick during undesirable classes, only to be seen, soon after leaving the classroom, right as rain. It was only coincidence, of course, that those classes most affected were those where the Madam Undersecretary was ‘visiting’.

Then there was the night that they had somehow managed to convince the elves to let them tamper with the pumpkin juice jugs, slipping in a potion that caused everyone’s hair to turn a rival house’s colour. The teacher’s table had not been immune either, with Dumbledore’s white hair and beard turning rainbow colours and the heads of houses sporting changed locks. Somehow, Umbridge had been turned a decidedly horrible shade of puce, making her look more like a toad than before. While everyone knew who had done it, they couldn’t prove it – as the supposed perpetrators had been hit by the potion as well. Dumbledore had laughed it off always a fan of a good joke, but the Undersecretary had squealed upon discovery of the prank and, due to them possibly laughing the hardest, soon had pinned the twins with cold, beady eyes.

The DADA classroom had become a favourite hangout of the short woman. She’d sit in the back with her clipboard, tutting away under her breath as she made vicious notes with her quill, shaking her head every so often. Bill was about ready to physically boot her from the classroom as she was such a disruptive influence. However, her favourite targets – by far – were Muggle Studies and Divination. Those two women were rarely seen beyond their classroom doors, now, and when they did venture out, they acted like scared little mice.

Bill watched during dinner one night as a rumour started among the tables. It was quite interesting to watch, actually. He could spot where it started along the Gryffindor upper years – most likely his brothers – then he could see the game of whispers catch on as heads leaned left then right spreading the news down the table. The news spread along the back of the hall between tables and soon the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were passing it up. Apparently the prank was not going to victimize the Slytherins as that table was finally passed the news where it quickly spread up the ranks. Severus snorted on his right.

“This ought to be interesting,” the older man commented snidely.

“Then I didn’t imagine it...” Bill whispered.

“No. That was the famous Hogwarts grapevine in full action. Two minutes and fifteen seconds to cover the entire school population. I shouldn’t wonder if our night isn’t going to be quite full – and I’m going to have two pranksters busy in my dungeons this weekend.” He grinned maliciously as a school owl came fluttering down to land in front of his gold plate charger. It pecked at a rind of ham while Snape untied the message from its leg and unrolled the miniature scroll. He snorted once as he read it, then vanished it with a snap of his fingers, startling the owl into taking off again. He picked up his goblet of wine and connected with two pairs of bright brown eyes glinting at him from a sea of red and gold as he silently toasted them in reply then resumed his dinner.

“Yes, it shall be a busy night indeed,” he commented quietly. Turning to his dining companion he asked, “Would you like to accompany me this evening to the Three Broomsticks? I hear Rosmerta has laid in an exceptional new keg of thirty-year old oak-aged mead.”

“Sounds delicious. Are we celebrating anything in particular?” Bill asked as he leaned back in his chair, having watched the Master interact with his brothers and hearing his earlier comment. “And can Fleur join us?”

“Oh, I think I’ll send out a general invitation to most of the staff. A ‘we’ve survived the first month’ celebration.” He conjured up a quill and some parchment from somewhere in his teacher’s robes and wrote an invitation on the top one. When he was done he tapped the top one twice and the note reproduced itself through the pile. He then folded each note in half, addressed it to a particular teacher and as he finished each addressee, the note disappeared from the stack only to appear quietly under each recipient’s hand. When he finished, he pushed back his chair and stood up, Bill joining him.

“That was an interesting little charm,” the red head commented. “Would have come in handy in school...”

“And I’ll thank you not to teach it to my sons,” Severus smirked. Bill held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll meet you there in one hour,” the Potions master said softly to the younger man, then left via the teacher’s entrance.

)O-O(

The teachers were gathering in the private room at the top of The Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta had supplied the group with several bottles of her new stock of mead and they were sitting on comfortable couches and chairs around a roaring fire, some propping up their tired feet on comfortable hassocks. They were all quite warm inside and out and becoming quite relaxed.

“Alright, Severus, not that I don’t truly enjoy this mead or the company, but why is three-quarters of the staff away from the school this evening when it was quite obvious those twins have something planned?” Minerva interrogated her colleague. “Is the school going to still be standing when we return?”

“Please note who was not invited on this little jaunt,” he made her observe. “The twins let me know that they are going to be setting off some experimental fire-works this evening and suggested that we might want to let her Pink Majesty try handling getting rid of them. The only way to do that was if we were not around to help. If you go to the window over there in about five minutes, you’ll see their new product.” He smirked at her incredulous look.

“I’m not going to survive those two...” she mumbled into her drink. “I’m assuming you’ve already set them their detention?” she asked crisply.

“Of course. Five hours with me on Saturday, ten points each will be deducted.” The stern Gryffindor head nodded at him in agreement – it was his standard arrangement with the boys whenever they pulled a major prank; if it ended up being a disaster – the points taken could increase. If it was considered a masterful prank, only minimum points would be taken by Severus and the other teachers, usually McGonagall, would find ways of counteracting them. Of course very few knew that these ‘detentions’ were when he actually let them experiment under a master’s eye. A sparkle from the window caught his eye. “Ah, the show has started!”

Another reason he’d chosen this vantage point was because of a large curved window seat that occupied most of one wall that faced the picturesque view of the castle, unobstructed by any other buildings. All the teachers headed over to the window taking in the breathtaking view of the spectacular light show that was happening not only in the sky but also, apparently, in the halls of Hogwarts. Bill started sniggering next to Severus as several wheeling displays merged only to become bigger. Inside, the sparking lights seemed to be multiplying along the corridors.

Flitwick was bouncing up and down on the window seat, having levitated himself up to the cushions. “What wonderful charm work! Ah, yes a self-duplicating Gemini charm...” he began murmuring under his breath as he watched the display. “Oh, good show!” The little man exclaimed while others oohed and ahhed as several shaped displays took to flying around the castle. The mead bottles were passed around again as the teachers sipped and watched the show.

Much later the group began staggering back up to the castle in pairs and threes, Minerva giggling every-so-often as a stray firework began to circle the Headmaster’s tower. Severus was in the lead as they approached the gates that were flanked by winged boars. Severus blinked as a third boar flew down towards the group, spraying stray sparks in its wake as it buzzed overhead causing several to duck down. As they watched, it floated upwards again, wings flapping, and headed back to the castle where it joined its fellow strays in circling the main tower. Flitwick clapped his hands in admiration.

Shaking his head, Severus held the gate open until the final inebriated educator had passed by him. He shut the iron gates, resetting the locks and began the long, sobering trek up the steep carriageway – letting the cool air aid the sober-up charm he had used to sharpen his senses. He had a feeling he was going to need them operating at full capacity when he reached the entry-hall.

The sight that greeted him was so comical; he was hard pressed not to snigger. As it was, he was sure his chin was quivering with the need to let loose and the enamel of his teeth would crack under the force of his jaw clenching. A thoroughly dishevelled Umbridge was running around the hall, dirt smudged and hair falling free from its confining bow. Unbeknownst to her a small ball of pink and green sparkles was following behind her, like a little puppy, dogging her heels. An asthmatically wheezing Filch was in front of her wielding a smoking push broom while a blinking marquis sign – that obviously knew of Filch’s admiration for the Madame Undersecretary - with an arrow pointing down at him flashed amusing sobriquets such as ‘Schnookums’, ‘Lamsie Pamsie’, ‘Stud Muffin’ and – the one that nearly broke Severus’ composure – ‘Monkey Buns’, as they attempted to herd the remaining wheeling fire-shapes out the front door. 

Dumbledore was collapsed on a step, looking as if he’d run a marathon; arms resting on his knees, wand dangling loosely from his right hand, glasses askew and ash-smudged. His hat had gone missing somewhere and he was half-heartedly slapping at some scorch marks on his robes that still had glowing embers while his beard and long white hair were definitely showing signs of being grizzled by fire with tendrils of delicate smoke wreathing his head.

The hallways appeared as if a small war had gone off inside them, with scorch marks scoring the walls and ceilings, several pinwheels were still spinning madly on the floor daring anyone to come near their flaming madness and the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the Great Hall were grinning in ecstasy while their stone teeth masticated on some hapless roman candles that had migrated their way, fonts of colourful sparks dribbling down to the floor.

Flitwick stood agape as he took the scene in, then just shook his head muttering ‘imbeciles’ as he whipped out his wand and shot a spell at the group of sparking displays. The reaction was quite astounding as all three screamed “NO!” at the little professor, each leaning dramatically towards him – wands at the ready, spells on their lips – but it was too late.

“Whoops!” Flitwick squeaked as his strong Finite only caused the displays to brighten considerably before all of them replicated several times and branched off down intersecting corridors. “Sorry! Looks like you have it well in hand, however, goodnight!” He waved cheerily to the trio as they scrambled after the balls of light. Filch looked as if was going to burst into tears on the spot. He began climbing the stairs to his second floor apartments, musing about “Fifty-points to Gryffindor... each,” as the other teachers began splitting off towards their rooms as well – some surreptitiously shooting off some more Finites, since the first had resulted in such a wonderful reaction - nearly at running speed, before the trio could realize they now had help within reach.

Umbridge, quicker to the punch, chased after Snape as he crossed the expanse of the entry-hall to the tunnel opening that sloped down towards the dungeons, tripping and valiantly attempting to side-step the sparklers as she trotted after him.

“Wait, Snape! Where have you all been this evening? We could’ve used your help with this... You have to help me!” she screamed, obviously becoming unglued in her frustration at being defeated by a school prank.

Severus stopped and turned to face her, an eyebrow rising in contempt. “I’m sorry, Madam Undersecretary, but we were not on patrol duty this evening so we gathered for an evening wine tasting party. So sorry, but I must now make sure none of my students are wandering the corridors – it is past curfew, you know. Happy hunting!” He slipped into the dungeon shadows as her frustrated yells and stamping feet as she threw a tantrum echoed around him.

)O-O(

An irate Madame Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, stood up at breakfast the following morning and began pacing in front of the staff table. All eyes were on her, like prey watching a pacing lioness.

“It has become abundantly clear,” she began in her pedantic tone, “that the discipline in this school has slipped below all known parameters. The educational guidelines as set by the Ministry are also not being stringently kept; in fact they are blatantly and deliberately flouted on any and every occasion! Students are slovenly in their appearance,” several students were looking around at their classmates, all of whom had student robes pulled over their schools shirts, and shrugged, “and the quality of the teaching staff, in most cases, is below Ministry standards.” Severus could feel Minerva’s seething from where he sat six chairs away. “After consulting with the Minister last evening after this latest round of “Pranks”,” she sketched quotes in the air with her fingers, looking directly at the Weasley twins who didn’t seem affected by her attention, “he agrees that changes need to be made immediately or the future of our magical citizenry will be in jeopardy. Starting today, I have been given power to assign detentions, deduct points and to sack any teacher who does not meet ministry standards. There will be order in this school – I will have it!” she screeched loudly over the rising indignant protestations of the students, marching down the centre aisle to the back of the hall.

“My first decree will be the disbanding of all clubs and teams. You must come to me for authorization to reform your little groups,” she announced smartly before slamming through the doors scaring a first-year witless who’d just been outside them, late to breakfast.

Pomfrey swooped down on the poor weeping Hufflepuff, her departure igniting the mouths of the students as they discussed the latest outrage.

“Wait,” a young Gryffindor asked out loud, incredulously. “Does that mean the chess club has to ask permission to reform?”

“All clubs and teams, Pennywhistle; all of them,” Hermione stated surely. “That includes the Quidditch teams as well, and any homework groups,” she pointed out to her best friends. Harry’s eyebrows hit the roof as he mentally tugged on his connection to his father. A note soon appeared under his hand.

The Defence club meeting is still on. RoR tonight at six-thirty. If we have to go underground, we will. SS

He showed the note to his fellow Gryffindors and nodded quickly to his brother at the Ravenclaw table, raised an eyebrow to Pansy at the Slytherins and Ron turned around on his bench and whispered to Justin behind him. And just like that the Hogwarts Grapevine broke its own speed record. Life had just gotten very interesting.

)O-O(

That evening saw the third meeting of the Defence group. Despite it being illegal under the new rules, the two professors were waiting at the revealed door in the obscure seventh-floor hallway ushering in small groups of students and keeping a lookout for Dumbledore, Umbridge or Filch and his cat. Harry’d had the brilliant idea of asking Crookshanks to keep Mrs Norris busy that evening. When he’d approached the bandy-legged familiar of Hermione, the cat had given him a disgusted look worthy of Snape Senior, but had gone through the portrait hole, tail twitching in the air. He still had a soft spot in his heart for his former young master. So far, it seemed to be working as no one had seen Filch’s favourite feline in several hours.

As the last student passed the guardian professors, they closed the door and it melded back into the wall leaving not a trace of its passage. Behind it, the room they had requested was quite large with several areas to train in. Several wall sconces and fireplaces lit the room and provided a warm atmosphere. There was a wall of target dummies and bulls-eye targets, a workout corner with gym equipment and mats that had garnered the interest of a lot of the boys, an empty central area for general duelling and practice, and a far corner had two walls of books that focused purely on defence spells and strategy as well as overstuffed reading chairs to curl up in. Hermione was sneaking a longing eye at that corner, but all the students were milling around the centre area, excited whispers charging the scene.

“Welcome, everyone!” Bill began. “As of this moment, this is the defence club. We are now considered an illegal group under the new decrees but Professor Snape and I, and especially your parents, feel that this is information you need to master in this political climate.” He paused while a round of cheering and agreement surged from the gathered students. “There is a war going on, whether the Minister wishes to acknowledge that or not, and you must be prepared to face whatever may come your way. This study group will be concentrating on spellcasting; theory will be left to the schoolroom. Most of you tonight are here for the very first time. You were asked to attend by a senior member of this group. As I told them two weeks ago, in three weeks time you will be requested to bring three of your friends – from any house – to these meetings.” He waited a moment as they whispered among themselves, some shuddering as his words impacted and the ramifications struck home. Despite the warmth from the blazing fireplaces, a chill had settled over the assembly.

“Even the Slytherins, Professor?” a third-year Gryffindor asked defiantly, causing a murmur to stir the group.

“Especially the Slytherins, Mister Brakecast,” Severus answered decisively, silencing the crowd. He faced the group at large. “I will vouch for any Slytherins that are asked to participate in this group. Please note that there are already several from my house as senior members and now junior members among you. If you have any questions concerning any from my house, please see me during office hours and I will let you know whether approaching that person would be advisable or not. I’m sure you should know by now that not all Slytherins are supporters of the Dark Lord, and not all supporters are Slytherins. Peter Pettigrew, the person who told the Dark Lord where the Potters could be found, was a Gryffindor,” Severus reminded them in his sternest teaching voice. Several older students nodded their heads in remembrance while several younger Gryffindors gaped at him before gulping loudly, the import of what these teachers were saying finally hitting home.

“We want this knowledge to spread,” Bill continued earnestly. “We will be teaching the senior members different sets of spells than what they will be teaching you – don’t worry, you will be teaching those who come in three weeks the spells you will be learning tonight. Is the structure clear? Good. Senior members, I want you to split into two groups: one will stay here teaching and reviewing basic shields and hexes. The other half, go with Professor Snape where you will be learning more advanced shields. In a half-hour we will switch. Hop to it!” He shouted as he shot sparks from his wand, galvanizing the students into action.

Harry, Hermione and some of the other members took the new students over to one side of the room where Harry began showing them Expelliarmus. One of the new students tried to get smart with him until he pointed out that this one spell was what saved him until his father arrived with the Aurors last spring. He had Neville demonstrate the spell on Harry then paired up the seniors with several new members, spreading the wealth and making it easier to teach. Thanks to many years of hap-hazard defence teaching, there was a wide range of abilities. Even some older members were having problems at first until a senior member came by and corrected their stance or pronunciation. Within the allotted time, everyone had managed to hit a target with the spell – maybe not as strongly as they should have, but the start was there. Many of the newer members were looking at their tutors with awe in their eyes and a new sense of accomplishment in their hearts.

At the thirty-minute mark, the groups switched and Draco took lead showing the new members a standard shield charm. This caught on quite quickly and the last ten minutes of this section had mock battles occurring on their side of the room with Draco, Pansy and others correcting stances, pronunciation and wand movements until everyone had managed to correctly cast both spells earning smiles all around.

Meanwhile, Hermione had wandered over to the bookcases and could be seen riffling through a huge book, a long roll of Parchment in front of her. When Severus called time, Hermione grinned with satisfaction, put her book away and grabbed her quill and parchment. She took her professors aside as everyone sat on the floor, relaxing.

“Everyone, please pay attention to Miss Granger,” Severus announced after they turned to face the students.

“Well, I thought with all the new students being added we ought to commemorate this day with a declaration of intent. If you sign this, you are agreeing to keep this club a secret. Also, any new members we get we can add to the roll.” She laid the roll down on the table in front of her and signed her name as the students began to line up behind her to add their signature.

“Let me add,” Severus stated, “that if you do not sign, you will not be allowed back in to this group.” He stared down the line but, although there was some foot shuffling, none left the queue.

“Are meetings going to be regular?” someone in the back of the line asked. “Only, we have Quidditch practice once our team gets re-approved...” There were several murmurings from like minded individuals, none doubting that their captains would garner that approval; school without Quidditch? Impossible.

“For now they will be every Wednesday evening here in the Room. This is our commitment to you as you must make the commitment to learn,” Bill pointed out. “If it looks as if that may not work, we will find a way to let you know of any changes. If anyone would like to research... Of course, Hermione.” Bill grinned as Hermione’s hand nearly took his nose off in her eagerness to volunteer. “Now, just to play it safe, we are going to let you out of here in small groups – hopefully to keep Umbridge’s curiosity down.”

The two men walked over to the door and checked outside for any stray students, cats or professors. Finding the coast clear, they let the first group leave, letting them get out of sight before letting the next group go, sending them off in the opposite direction. When all had signed the parchment and were well on their way, including his sons and Bill, Severus pulled close the door watching it melt back into the wall so that it was back to solid granite again. He pulled a spare bit of parchment from his pocket, checked it to make sure everyone reached their destinations safely, then replaced it and took his time patrolling the corridors back to the dungeons, a sense of satisfaction suffusing him.

The words echoed around his head, seeming to come at him from every direction.

“You’re worthless... Nothing but a FREAK! -  Why would anyone love you?... You are just a tool, Potter, a pawn in the Headmaster’s chess game... Snape love you? He’s using you – it’s all a sham... They are fattening you for the slaughter... You know where you truly belong – in the cupboard with all the other tools, waiting to be used then thrown away. You watch; it’ll happen any day now and then where will you be? Back where you belong, back with your loving family...”

The cruel laugh ricocheted in his brain, sounding like a cross between Riddle and Uncle Vernon. Pictures and memories were assaulting him, scenes he’d thought locked away permanently long ago. He struggled to wake up, he knew it was a dream, but he was feeling suffocated...

“You are nothing... You think your Father will save you? He works for me... for me... for me...”

Harry’s eyes fluttered awake and he willed his heart rate back down as he stared at the quarter moon waxing through his four-poster’s curtains. A quick sigh left his lips as he tamped down the disturbing thoughts that were constantly beating at his head. A quick wave of his hand and a tempus charm showed that it was only two AM. He wasn’t going to get anymore sleep tonight. With a sigh, he levitated his book bag onto his bed as he scooted up into a seated position and, making sure the curtains were closed tight, got out his homework and began revising for a Charms test that was coming up the next morning.

)O-O(   

Draco walked to the Great Hall for breakfast keeping his eye on a pair of students several yards ahead of him. The long blond hair of the girl contrasted distinctly with the taller, dark skinned boy who was walking chummily along next to her. He watched, critically, as they flirted charmingly with each other, caught up in the throes of young love.

Draco didn’t want to hex the boy, he wasn’t jealous, he was protective. This was Luna – his sweet, crazy – but oddly brilliant – friend who’d he befriended in Ravenclaw. She was like a younger sister to him and they looked out for each other. He’d managed to convince her dorm mates to leave her alone and she, in turn, had been one of his first new friends when he’d been transferred to the house. Her tendency to speak of things that others doubted were real and her ethereal, somewhat detached way of looking at life in general, usually caused people to give her a wide berth and he’d caught more than one person giving the universal crazy hand-sign after they’d spoken with her. Of course they’d never done it again when he was through with them. After three years, most of the school had learned that Draco would protect her honour and reputation; with hexes and jinxes if need be. And he’d enlisted the help of his brother and friends to back him up.

Draco knew that Luna wasn’t as oblivious to public opinion of her as she projected; she was hurt – but refused to let it affect her. She had a very fatalistic view of people that was uncannily accurate. However, Draco made it his mission to cushion her whenever possible, like any good older brother would. Which is why he was following her and her new friend.

He’d noticed their budding attraction over the last few weeks, it was hard not too. Anyone with two eyes could see she was happy when her gaze landed an the lanky teen and he in turn was solicitous of her, offering to carry her books, escort her to class, study with her in the library where their heads would be nearly meeting over a book... Draco shook his head to sharpen his thoughts. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way – but it was time he acted like the older brother.

He spied his own brother coming down the grand stairs as he came down from the route that led from Ravenclaw’s entrance. Was he looking a bit tired? He could see dark shadows under Harry’s eyes, but he seemed alright otherwise and Draco had other matters on his mind this morning than his brother’s sleeping habits. Catching Harry’s gaze he cocked his head toward the pair in front of him. Harry raised his eyebrows in response and hurried over to him.

“So that’s where Dean’s been going,” Harry commented as they joined up. “How long?”

“Two weeks,” Draco growled. They had stopped a little out of the main path next to a wall that had gained some new frames in the last couple of weeks. Madam Umbridge had been taking her new role quite seriously, getting the Minister to sign off on rules that she felt would bring the school into line. Draco glanced up at the posted “Educational Decrees” taking in a new one that had been added since last evening. He tapped his brother to get his attention and pointed out the new addition.

“Inquisitorial squad?” Harry queried. “What next...” but he was cut off by a gruff voice from behind them.

“Loitering, Snapes? I believe that’ll be five points from each of your houses,” came the taunting tones of Theodore Nott.

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and didn’t turn around as he answered. “You can’t take points, Nott-head, you’re not a prefect, Zabini is and as I can plainly see he’s already seated at your table...”

“Oh, but I can. Inquisitorial Squad – Madam Umbridge appointed me herself,” answered the teen smugly.

Harry and Draco turned around slowly and took in the self-satisfied smirk of the Slytherin standing behind them. A bright shiny badge shone on his robes declaring him a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. Harry swung his glance to the new decree, finally reading the fine print. He elbowed his brother who was still glaring at the Slytherin. “Draco, they can take points and assign detentions! Not even Prefects can assign detentions! What makes you so special?” he spat out at the whip-thin Slytherin.

“Temper, temper, Snape.” He waggled a finger under Harry’s nose. “Madam Umbridge, by special assignment of the Minister, is who. Now, for your name calling and cheek, another five points from Gryffindor and a detention with Madam Umbridge tonight at seven, Snape. Now – no more loitering! You have thirty seconds to get moving or it will be more points!” He shouldered his way past the two gob-smacked brothers and strode into the Great Hall heading towards the middle of the Slytherin Table. Draco noted several more of the shiny new badges glinting from the chests of the Slytherins. He grabbed Harry’s elbow and forced him to walk alongside as they slowly made their way towards the Gryffindor table. Harry shook himself loose, mumbling “Git!” under his breath, but nodded that he understood their current task needed to be handled first. He tapped Seamus on the shoulder and indicated that he scoot down a bit towards Ron and the rest of the Weasleys so the two could sit together across from Dean Thomas.

Seamus took one look at the brother’s faces and, knowing this wasn’t going to be good for his best mate, grabbed his toast and hurried away. Dean was on his own this time.

“Morning, Harry, Draco...” Dean blithely greeted them as they filled their plates from the platters of eggs and kippers that graced the table. Harry grabbed some toast triangles as well, tossing two onto Draco’s plate.

“Morning Dean,” he said cheerfully as his brother murmured a hasty “Thomas” while glaring at the taller boy. Harry nudged Draco to stop it. “Dean, you got up pretty early this morning and were out of the dorm before I even got out of the shower. Cramming for that Charm’s exam this morning, were you?”

Dean spluttered his pumpkin juice. Wiping his mouth he shook his head, eyes wide as they bounced between the two brothers.

“No, Harry, he wasn’t studying – unless he has an anatomy exam coming up that we don’t know about. He was waiting outside my common room portrait this morning – waiting for Luna,” Draco stated, as if he was telling his brother this for the first time. He buttered a piece of toast a little more forcefully than necessary.

Harry’s eyes went wide as he turned his attention back to Dean. “Luna? Are you studying together, Dean?”

“Erm, well...” the other boy continued to splutter.

“Not unless you count snogging as a study technique... well, I guess he might have been conducting a comparison study – comparing two fourth years to each other. You were dating Ginny Weasley this summer, were you not? Pretty brave move considering she has six older brothers. I remember seeing you two behind a few of the straw barriers during lessons... You shouldn’t forget that Moody can see through stuff – he was having a good laugh at you two.” Draco watched satisfactorily as Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively. He was beginning to look as if he wanted to be anywhere but there. “I can understand, of course, why you would want to date someone a little bit... safer. No older siblings, father a bit not all there...” Dean was now visibly sweating while all the talk around them had stilled as the Gryffindors tried to listen, the three Weasley brothers taking notes in intimidation techniques to use on their sister’s future suitors. Draco was quite extraordinary! And Harry played the muscle side-kick with aplomb.

Draco pushed his plate away from him as he laced his fingers together on the refectory table, leaning in towards the fellow fifth-year across from him. Harry had grabbed an apple and was peeling it while listening to Draco.

“This is your one warning, Thomas. Luna is like a sister to us. She may act like nothing bothers her and that things just roll off her back like water off an Augurey, but I always know when something isn’t right with her.” He let his words hang there, letting the boy absorb the hidden threat before continuing. “Right now you are making her very happy; it is clear that she adores you. That is a gift, Thomas. Don’t squander it. As long as you treat her well, you have nothing to worry about. However, if either one of us finds out that you’ve mistreated her or made her unhappy in any way, you will be one sorry-arsed Gryffindork. Have we made ourselves clear?” he finally asked the cowed boy. Dean nodded his head vigorously.

“Are we done here, Harry?” Draco asked. Harry dropped the last of the single long curl he’d made of the apple skin onto the plate and quickly cored and divided the apple in two, handing one half to his brother.

“Yes, I believe we are. Shall we?” He gestured with his hand for Draco to precede him. “Have a nice day, Dean,” he told his dorm mate as the brothers sauntered towards the exit and their first class, Draco sending a smile over to Luna who responded with a shy one in return. His work was done. He considered this to be good training for when Calista began dating – if he allowed her to begin dating, he grimaced. Perhaps he should discuss home schooling her with his parents.

“So, detention with Umbridge tonight?” Draco finally asked as they headed for the Runes room.

“Yeah. I don’t get it – she’s not a teacher, what gives her the right to hand out authority like that to Nott and the others?” Harry groused.

“She’s the mouthpiece of Fudge, that’s what gives her the authority. They are up to something, just not sure what,” Draco mused. “I bet Dad isn’t amused with this.” He waved his hands to indicate everything Umbridge was doing to the school.

“I wouldn’t know – haven’t spoken to him since last weekend,” Harry stated, a bit apologetically. Draco whipped his head around.

“Why, in Merlin’s name, not?”

Harry shrugged. “No time – with studying, Quidditch – now that Angelina got the team reformed and approved, and more studying thanks to your girlfriend hounding me about it – “ he gave his brother a look that eerily reminded him of Hermione while pitching his voice to her dulcet tones. “’OWLs are this year; they are our most important tests – they will determine what career we can study for as senior students. We have to begin studying now!’” Draco choked back a laugh; Harry had Hermione pegged. He’d heard that speech himself many times over the last month. They continued on in their trek to the Runes room as Draco accepted Harry’s excuse.

Harry gave himself a mental pat on the back as he’d managed to deflect his brother. He really didn’t want to tell Draco that the real reason he hadn’t seen their father was because he was avoiding him. His dreams were still disturbing him – but no longer in a nightmarish way. Now they were causing him to reflect at night over the man’s relationship with him. Causing him to truly wonder at how easily it had been to accept Severus’ claim of fatherhood, let him into his life... Even though his first-year at the school had been a total opposite; the man had been hateful and harsh; sneering at the small first-year from day one.

He knew he was most likely being ridiculous – he shouldn’t be complaining, Severus had saved him from the Dursleys, given him a loving home and a family – people whom he loved dearly... but there was still that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind that grew every night. A voice that spoke in his Uncle’s tones that he was surely unworthy of all this Love. Until he figured out the source of his irritation, he would continue to limit contact. Besides, every time he came near, he had to fight the sudden urge to lash out irrationally at the man. There was no logical reason to feel that way, and it seemed to all lead back to his dreams.

He sighed to himself as they headed towards their usual seat in the class, causing Draco to eye him questioningly.

“Harry?”

“Nothing – it’s nothing,” he assured the other boy as they dragged their books and homework from their book bags and settled in for the next hour.

)O-O(

 Harry stood outside the office door, straightening his robe and running a hand through his still-damp hair. Angelina hadn’t been thrilled that he’d had to leave practice early to attend the seven o’clock detention with Umbridge. She had loudly berated him as he’d flown past her towards the locker room and a quick shower, tossing her the Snitch he’d just caught, before running up to Madam’s office. He wondered what she would assign him as his task. No one knew what her preferred method was as he was the lucky first detention to be assigned.

Just as he raised his hand to knock on her door, it swung open to reveal an office that clearly reflected her fondness for the colour pink. It was everywhere – on the walls, the carpet, new drapes at the leaded windows and, of course, on her. Even her shoes matched her pink cardigan and dress pairing with a matching Alice band topping the horrendous outfit. He felt as if he’d walked into a bottle of one of his father’s stomach-soother potions.

It was not reassuring in the slightest.

“Come in, Mr Potter...”

“Potter-Snape,” Harry automatically corrected as he stepped through the doorway, an attitude already forming. She halted momentarily in her path around her desk, staring at him for his impertinence. He met it back, squaring off with her across the expanse of the office. Manicured fingernails – pink, of course – began drumming on the polished surface of her desk, a staccato beat that seemed to hammer out his doom. But he didn’t lower his eyes; he wasn’t going to give away any ground to her. Not this early.

“Hmmm, I see that, despite your current upbringing, manners are clearly lacking. You are to always address me as ‘Madam Undersecretary’, ‘Madam Umbridge’, or ‘Ma’am’ as the case may be,” she snapped out although a simper stayed on her face.

Harry stared at her for a moment before responding, “Potter-Snape, Ma’am.” The finger drumming stopped abruptly.

“There, see how easy that is? Now come over here,” she said as she walked towards a small table set up on the side of her office. A long roll of parchment and a quill, ready and waiting to be used, graced its surface. Harry walked over and sat in the chair, picking up the quill and looking around for an ink bottle. “You are going to write lines for me this evening, child.” Well, that was glaringly obvious – he thought sarcastically to himself.

“All right,” Harry cautiously agreed – this couldn’t be too bad, a cramped hand he could live with. “But I don’t see any ink...”

“Oh, you shan’t need any. This is a special never-out quill, one of my favourites. Only the best for The-Boy-Who-Lived,” she said placating. Harry winced; he absolutely hated that designation. “You shall be writing ‘I will respect my Elders’,” she assigned. Harry nodded once in understanding and placed the pen-nib on the parchment in readiness.

“How many times, Madam?” he asked resignedly.

“Until the message sinks in, I should think – I’ll know when,” she smirked. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get started!” she commanded shrilly and Harry began to write his first line. As he wrote he noted that the ink seemed to glow red before it began to dry to a dull, rusty-brown colour. As curious as that was, it was over-ridden by the sudden sharp pain he felt in the back of his non-dominant hand. It felt like a sharp needle was carving itself into his skin, the sensation dragging and burning as the apparent wound met air. He gasped aloud, glancing over at the hand that had flinched and clenched itself in a pain response and was shocked to discover a faint red line that corresponded directly to the letters he’d just placed on the parchment.

Blood.

She was making him write his lines in his own blood.

He threw the quill away from him, and scooted his chair back, horrified. He could hear her demented giggle behind him as she grabbed the back of his chair and shoved him back up to the table and, after a quick Accio, slapped the quill back into his hand, waving a sticking charm over him, the chair and the quill.

“No, Mr Potter-Snape, you will not leave until your detention is finished. You’ve been naughty and must be punished. You know I’m right, don’t you,” she cooed over him. The woman was clearly not operating on a full deck. She sounded like those demented women on the telly that tried to justify in an ever-so-sweet-but-obviously-insane voice why they just had to kill the main character. Dudley had loved watching those types of crime shows when they were younger and Harry had listened from his cupboard. They had given him nightmares.

He swallowed deeply and took a firm hold on the deceitful quill. Such an innocent looking instrument, but it was clearly a torture device. Just as the seemingly sweet looking woman was his personal torturer. He could easily see her becoming a Death-Eater – if she wasn’t already one. “That’s it,” she said as he began writing again, scrunching up his left hand as the quill magically bit into it to gain the ink – his blood – that it began gleaming with.

)O-O(

Harry was glad that when he returned to the dorm that evening that his friends had already headed to bed. He thought he’d be able to get to bed without anyone the wiser to the terms of his detention when he heard a croak come from the wing-backed chair that was sitting in front of the massive fire-place.

“Trevor,” he cursed under his breath. Gritting his teeth for a moment, he finally called out, “Hey, Neville – up late?” in a louder, cheerier voice. Neville had started to shoot up in height this past summer, with the result that he’d lost a lot of his previous baby-fat that had haunted him during their earlier years at the school. Paired with the fact that he now had a wand that responded well for him, he’d gained a lot of confidence over the last few weeks as classes he’d previously struggled with had become much easier to handle. Harry shrugged out of his robes and let them drape over his left arm, conveniently hiding his tortured hand, as he approached the sitting area.

“Harry,” Neville greeted, leaning forward to peek around the edge of the tall wing-back chair. “I was just sitting here enjoying the fire and quiet.” He peered over at his dorm mate as Harry perched on the edge of the sofa arm and they shared a grin. The Common room could get quite rowdy at times, especially with the twins ramping up their ‘product testing’ behind the prefects’ backs; Harry’s investment at work, he thought with an inner smirk. Hermione would have a cow if she knew. “You’re late though – everyone’s gone to bed. What was detention like with her?”Neville asked, eyes wide and curious.

“Nothing much; lines,” Harry responded with a shrug, fighting the need to check the back of his hand. He forced himself to yawn, though it wasn’t much of a fake. “Well, I’m tired. I’m going to head to bed – long day tomorrow; Defence, you know,” he said as he rose again. “Coming up?”

“In a bit. See you tomorrow...” The taller boy relaxed back into the squishy chair, a hand reaching out to stroke his pet amphibian that glimmered wetly in the firelight.

“Pleasant dreams, Nev,” Harry said in passing and walked quickly up to his dorm room where he could go immerse the hand in a basin of cool water before getting ready for bed. Not for a single minute did he entertain the thought that he should tell a teacher, his father, his brother or his friends what had occurred in that pink office. This was something that was too personal to share – and, just like the dreams he’d been having, he locked those feelings away until he could take them out and examine them later. In a way his father had taught him to occlude too well as he dropped the memories into a special pool, obliterating any easy path to it in his mind.

)O-O(

“I’m sorry, Madam Umbridge, but the texts I’ve been teaching have been approved by the Governors for the next four years...” Professor Weasley’s voice could be heard through the cracks around the wooden door to the Defence room. The gathering fifth-years stood silent as they listened to the argument ensuing in the classroom.

“They are inappropriate and entirely too dangerous. Teaching children to throw hexes and jinxes – teaching them advanced shielding charms...”

“Those spells are ministry approved...”

“For Aurors! You are not teaching Aurors, Weasley!” she shot back.

“I’m teaching students who may well indeed become Aurors some day. Those spells are all contained in the Governor approved texts for this class and the years in which they are being taught in order to prepare them for life outside of this environment.” They could hear Bill pacing across the wooden floor, his dragonhide boots striking forcefully.

“A theoretical knowledge of Defence will get them through their exams...” she began, but he quickly ran over her.

“Theory be damned, Dolores. I am not teaching to the test – I am teaching them how to survive!”

“Survive what? This ridiculous notion that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? Please, Weasley, where is this boogie man? Ever since Potter-Snape...”

“Oh, now she says it right...” Harry muttered causing his friends to snicker behind their hands. Hermione playfully wacked him on the back of his head, but she couldn’t suppress her smirk at his snide remark.

“...turned up with that cockamamie story about a duel in a graveyard...” the toad continued.

“There were Aurors, his father and Alastor Moody there as well, Madam. Are you going to say it was mass hallucination?” he taunted.

“Of course it was! How could it not be? It was the final task of the tournament – anything could have been planned for that task – including an elaborate scene to make it seem as if they were fighting Death Eaters.” The children could almost hear her smiling as she giggled, while others – those Harry knew were being swayed by the Prophet – looked at Harry with haughty glances, whispering among themselves. He tried to ignore them as the sibilant hissing pricked at his insecurities. “If He is back, where is He? No, I can’t let you continue to fill these children’s heads with nonsense and ghost stories. If you won’t do as I ask, I shall just have to get the Minister himself to intervene!” she declared quite loudly as the period bell rang. The students hurried away from the doors as they could hear her heels tip-tapping their way forcefully toward the entrance and then jumped further when she blasted the doors open with her wand.

As she passed near Harry she paused and regarded him for a moment. “Anything to say Mr Potter... Snape?” she ground out.

He stared at her back, thinking hard. “Yes. You’re wrong.” His hand began prickling even as he stood up to her. He ignored it; he was a Gryffindor.

“Oh, am I? What am I wrong about?” she cooed as she stepped a little closer.

Harry could feel Ron and Draco pulling at his robes to get him to shut up, but he couldn’t. His aching left hand was a shining example of what he needed to fight. Even though the lines were gone when he awoke this morning, the residual pain was still present and it goaded him as he glared at her. “Voldemort is back, Madam. We told you so weeks ago. My dad saw him, I fought him and Professor Moody and his Auror Squad saw and fought him.” He yanked up the sleeves around his right arm showing a scar on the inside of his elbow. “I didn’t get this scar from a fall, Madam; Peter Pettigrew gave it to me when he forced blood from me to add to the potion that restored Voldemort to his body.” He could see her trembling in front of him, a blood vessel at the side of her head began pulsing wildly. “That was not a hallucination...” he started.

“LIES!!! ALL LIES!! Detention! All this week and next. Seven PM every night, my office!” she screamed then stormed off. “And fifty points from Gryffindor!” she screeched before she turned the corner.

“Way to go, Harry!” Ron said, shaking his head as he walked past his friend to enter the classroom. The other students all filed into class shooting him either sympathetic, disgusted or awe-filled looks for his performance.

“C’mon, Harry,” Draco said as he placed a hand between his brother’s shoulder blades and pushed him in ahead of him. Harry was acting a bit dazed for a moment but soon shook it, and his brother, off.

“I’m alright, Drake. Guess I won’t be at Defence tonight...” he whispered.

“Bill heard; if he doesn’t do it, I’ll tell Dad,” he offered.

“Thanks,” Harry said then prepared for class as Bill ushered in stragglers just before the tardy bell rang.

)O-O(

By the end of the second week of detention, Harry was ready for a padded room. He thought a nice gentle Mauve might be a nice shade... His hand ached horribly; his head threatening to join it as he tried to reason his way through his dreams that were compounding his doubts; Vernon’s hate-filled voice ringing in his ears as he awoke every morning. Angelina was on his case for being in Detention so often when she needed him for Quidditch practice with their first game looming in the near future (that weekend) and he’d had notes from both his father and his head of house warning him to lay low and not create altercations with the High Inquisitor. Thanks to the detentions, he’d also missed out on the last two defence group meetings. He felt like he was on the slippery slope to madness and it would only take one more thing to push him over the edge. He wanted to talk to someone – anyone – but was afraid he’d left it to go on for too long.

He had managed to keep his cool throughout the week as well as keeping his friends and brother unaware of what was really happening during those nightly torture sessions. He’d taken to wearing his shirt sleeves low on his hands, effectively hiding the now permanent words carved on the back, “I must not tell lies.” But listening to Umbridge’s saccharine sweet tones goading him and working on his insecurities had fed into his nightly dreams, bolstering his feelings of inadequacy and his doubts about the sincerity of his friends and family.

There was still a little time left before curfew so he let his feet wander up to the owlery where he composed a short note to Sirius before heading back to his dorm. He didn’t talk about the detentions or his doubts, he only kept his godfather up to date on the happenings at school, he didn’t want to worry the man – what could he do from where he was holed up in his parents’ old house? Better to keep it to strictly news. He watched as Hedwig soared away on the night winds, wishing he could fly away with her.

Even though it was Friday night and the traditional time when he and his brother would arrive at Severus’ rooms for the weekend, he didn’t feel up to facing his family that night – not with fresh lines still weeping blood on his hand. He could feel the blood soaking into his cuff that he had pulled down around the wound. He just wanted to stick it under the cold water in the boys’ restroom, letting the cool feeling penetrate and wash away the pain and blood.

It was not to be. Waiting for him outside the portrait hole were Hermione and Draco conversing in low whispers. He forced a grin on his face as he approached them, hoping to appease their worry.

“Hey guys, back from a walk?” He tried to worm past them. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat – I’m going to head up to bed. Glad those detentions are over – so many lines,” he said, shaking his right hand and wiggling the fingers in a show of it being worn out from two weeks of lines, trying to make a light hearted attempt at distracting them, but Hermione had grabbed his left hand to hold him back and he couldn’t hold back the hiss of pain that had escaped his lips as he tried to hunch over his injury.

Quicker than a snake bite, she had hiked up his sleeve exposing the red, raw lines that were still seeping ichor. The look of horror on her face matched Draco’s as they stared at the infected mess on the back of his hand.

“Harry...” she sobbed.

“What the hell?” Draco exclaimed at the same time, taking in the words etched into skin. “That’s from a blood quill! Those were outlawed decades ago – this is what you’ve been doing when she’s assigned ‘lines’?” he demanded.

Before Harry could form a reasonable answer his upper arm had been grasped by his brother and he was being frog-marched back down the stairs towards his father’s quarters. Harry tried half-heartedly to pull away, but Draco growled at him that he’d petrify Harry and float him down to their father if he didn’t come along nicely. Hermione followed behind, breaking off only to knock on McGonagall’s door as they passed it, the two of them catching up quickly after a hurried explanation from Hermione. Harry spared a glance back at his Head of House who looked as if she’d eaten a lemon, her mouth was so tight and her gaze fierce.

“Keep marching, Mr Snape. We will talk about this when we see your father,” she snapped at him.

Draco did not let go even as they approached the oak door, McGonagall taking the lead and hammering a smart tattoo upon the wood. Severus opened the door and looked surprised at the gathering in the hallway. McGonagall shouldered past him, dragging Harry and Draco in behind her while Hermione ghosted in and stood in the background, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Good evening, Minerva. And what has Harry done to warrant this mass intrusion?” Severus asked as he walked over to his seat, retaking it and indicating the rest should sit as well.

“Ach, it’s not what he’s done, Severus; ‘tis what is being done to him,” Minerva stated as she perched on the edge of the opposite chair, back straight and severe. “Well, go ahead, boy, show yer father yer hand,” she commanded, her brogue thick with barely contained emotion. When Harry was slow in complying, Draco gave a disgusted huff and did it for him, gently peeling the fabric away from where it was stuck to the scabbing lines, turning the hand in the firelight so their father could read the words.

“Harry,” Severus asked slowly, his eyes smouldering in anger, “how long has this been going on?”

“Two... two weeks...” Harry answered, snatching his hand back and cradling it close to his body. With his father so close, he wanted to snap at the man – it was so irrational! He tried to put a lock on his emotions, but now that this secret was out, everything was bubbling to the surface and he could feel his magic trembling under his skin, making it crawl.

“Draco – essence of Murtlap, quickly,” his father commanded, “as well as a medium pain reliever and an anti-infective. Also, grab some Scaradicate cream from my bathroom. Miss Granger, do make yourself useful in the kitchen, please, and make a pot of strong tea. Minerva, did you know about this at all?” He moved to sit next to Harry, taking the hand back gently and studying the inflamed area, prodding the infected skin and expressing out the infected pus. As the lines began to bleed fresh, clean blood, he could feel his son shaking in the seat next to him and he peered at the boy, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. There was obviously more going on here than just the use of the torture device. A flash of red in the boy’s eyes – probably just a reflection from the firelight – caused him a moment’s hesitation, but he put it aside as it quickly went away.

McGonagall shook her head vigorously, staring horror-stricken at her student’s hand. “No, Severus, I swear. I knew he had the detentions, as did you, and warned him not to annoy her, but had no idea that anything like this was going on. If I had... well, I don’t condone this type of torture!” she hissed.

Harry curled up against the couch, knees drawing up into his standard shield position, only his left hand outside of the protective area being tended to by his father, letting the adult’s discussion wash over him in waves. He was so tired. A part of him was glad it was out in the open; this is what he’d been missing for the last few weeks - the caring, the love... How could he have let his doubts rise up and consume him, making him distance himself from his family? He realized that only a few moments had passed before his father was calling him back awake.

“Harry – Harry, wake up, son. That’s it. Here, take this potion – good – now, I want you to soak your hand in this for the next half-hour, then we’ll put on the anti-infective and the cream. We’ll keep repeating this during the weekend. Can you talk about it now?” His hand brushed back some stray hairs from Harry’s face, concealing the fact that he also wiped away some of his son’s tears as Harry let out a shuddering breath. A bowl of cool, viscous fluid immediately soothed the back of his hand better than any ice-water bath could. But there was that skin-crawling feeling again! As his father reached out again, his magic washing over Harry’s shields, he violently pushed the hand away, growling at the man and throwing the bowl to the floor in his attempt to crawl away. He heard Draco curse in surprise as he jumped away from the flying crockery and spilled potion.

“Stay away!” he cried, his voice deep and gravely – not his normal tones. He didn’t know where this was coming from; inside he was yearning for his father to take him in his arms and hold him like he was twelve again – twelve and small, vulnerable and wanting his father to soothe away all his nightmares. But he was living the nightmare again. The voice overrode his desires. “I’m a freak! Can’t you see that? How can you care for me? I deserve this!” He flung out his injured hand and heard objects crashing to the ground around him as his magic exploded, but he was too hysterical to take notice.

He could hear Hermione gasping in the kitchen, could feel the concern rolling off his family and his head of house, but his Uncle’s voice was resounding in his ears again and he clapped his hands over his ears, pulling at his hair, trying to silence the taunting in his brain. “Stop it! Get away from me! Stop yelling at me!” His magic was tugging at his core, rising to the surface in torrents and spilling away from him. He closed his eyes tight, wishing with all of his might that it would all stop. Voices impeded the air around him as the magic rose around him, spiralling away.

“Watch out!”

“Minerva – floo Poppy, get her down here immediately!”

“Draco, duck!” The sound of something large shattering echoed around the room.

“Can’t you put a damper on him?”

“I’m trying!” Magic flailed at his shields, entreating to be let in, but he struggled to push them away – and still they persisted until large hands grasped his and pulled them away from his head, encasing them in one hand while the other tilted his chin up. His shields faltered at the invasion and collapsed, his magic retreating to hover just under his skin, making it itch and crawl. He mewled in terror, tremors causing his limbs to shake.

“Harry, look at me!” Severus commanded him.

“No...” Harry shook his head, fighting the compulsion.

“Look at me, son; please,” he pleaded, putting all his love and care into his request.

The eyes snapped open, but instead of the cool, green orbs Severus loved so much there were red tinged eyes flickering with sheer hate.

“You’ve betrayed me, Severus...” The gravely voice spat out and Snape recognised the tones of Voldemort forcing their way through Harry’s throat. Then the eyes changed back, tears spilling over, and his son was pleading with him, “Help me...” He swallowed hard and bore his gaze into those eyes, taking hold of the mind with a silently cast Legilimens and battling his way through the forest that was his son’s Occlumency shield.

He could hear Harry crying deep inside the tropical rainforest and he worked his way past the barriers, sidestepping the pitfalls he’d help to make. With whispered passwords taught to him long ago by his son, he was allowed passage by the animals guarding the way, some looking the worse for wear – fur and feathers missing in patches, some limping or nursing broken appendages or tails. He spared a few moments in his search for the boy to notice that the forest was not as it should be either; trees had fallen, vines withered, pools of water becoming stagnant. Something – or someone – had entered and wrecked havoc in his son’s brain.

A beam of light seemed to be guiding him as he tramped the leaf clogged pathway through the detritus. Only weeks ago this forest had been pristine, everything where it should be, what had happened? The crying was growing weaker and he hurried quickly, spying a small glen ahead; a patch of green and blue in the brown, rotting forest.

Across the way was a large boulder beside one of Harry’s Occlumency pools and in the lee of the boulder curled a small figure, dressed in rags; Harry as Severus had originally found him four years before. Running, he skirted around the pond, noting it was still in a good state, and rushed to the boy’s side gathering him up with a cry of relief, holding him to his chest as small arms and legs wrapped themselves around his torso and neck, hugging for dear life as he sobbed into the black robes.

“I’ve got you, Harry. You’re mine,” he assured the little boy.

“He’s here,” came the breathy voice near his ear.

“Who’s here, Harry?”

“Uncle; he’s been talking to me, telling me lies. Only now he has red eyes and he’s trying to take over my forest. But I won’t let him have my password. But it’s hard, Daddy. It’s so hard... I don’t think I can keep him out much longer...”Shuddering sobs wracked the small frame and Severus hugged his son harder.

“You don’t need to do it alone, Harry. I’m here to help you...”

“He hates you...”

“I know he does. He let’s me know that constantly!” Harry pulled back a little, looking his father in the eyes quizically.

“How?” he asked.

“Through his mark. He can’t kill me, but he can make it quite uncomfortable,” he pointed out.

“He’s a meanie!” Harry declared, morphing into a five-year old version of himself. Severus chuckled ruefully, ruffling his child’s hair.

“That he is, son; that he most certainly is. Now, how about we sit here next to this most excellent pond and repair – together – what the ‘meanie’ has rent asunder?” Harry nodded, morphing back into an older version and squirmed out of his father’s arms only to settle in the man’s lap after he’d found a comfortable piece of ground to rest upon.

“Good, let’s start here in the centre, and we will work our way out in a spiral, fixing as we go and chase him out,” Severus suggested and Harry agreed. With his father there next to him, loving and supporting him, he had the confidence to do what he should have done when the dreams and doubts had started. The man was there for the long haul – like any good father would do and together they would repair the broken bits.

Harry and his father began casting Reparo’s around his jungle Occlumens; building and restoring as they slowly spiralled outward from his central pond. As the green began to regrow, Harry made sure to strengthen his passwords as they went, listening to his father’s suggestions, and healed each guardian they came across by passing his mind-wand over the injured creature and thinking of how he wanted it to appear: whole and healthy, stronger than before and armed with magical shields that they could wield against any foe that dared to trespass. The brilliant thing about the mind was that he could build creatures that could do things they could never do in reality. It bolstered his confidence, despite the energy it took to repair the massive damage done to the shields.

His father followed behind, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings, making sure his son didn’t over-extend himself and drain his core or his energy. He shouldn’t have worried; Harry had a keen sense of his own mind and body after several years of training with Runeskin and his father – as well as his training this past summer. He knew when he was reaching exhaustion and it wasn’t now. As Harry turned inward to repair his inner bulwark, it was as if the jungle caught on and began to help Harry with his task – feeding energy back to him. Severus kept watch, making suggestions when needed but mostly making sure the Dark Lord did not attack again at this vulnerable time; his wand out and at the ready to defend at a moment’s notice.

Harry forged all of his love for his family and friends into his creation and the green spread outward from them as they walked, a verdant wildfire. The tide turned the greys, browns and deadened woods into a vibrant, living creature that forcibly shrugged its shoulders and rejected the intruding mind of the Dark Lord. It closed off and encapsulated the wee entrance he had used to wiggle his way in and wreak havoc. They heard Voldemort scream his frustration and pain as he recoiled violently from the love that shone brightly over every leaf, branch, guardian and blade of grass. As he departed, flowers bloomed with a riot of exotic colours and scents, and the sounds of the jungle expanded in a symphony of welcome joy.

As the niggling voice of doubt fled, Harry’s confidence grew in proportion and he turned a guilt ridden face toward his father as they stood at the outer edge of the forest gazing at the fully restored landscape.

“I should have come to you, I’m sorry.” He cast his eyes down in shame, shrinking again into a little boy. But instead of the little cupboard-Harry, dressed in his cousins cast-offs and too thin from malnutrition and abuse, this one was just a scaled-down version of the fifteen year-old; Harry, as he would have appeared if he’d grown up with his parents from the start. He dragged the toe of his trainer in the soft loam of the ground, looking at his hand where the words were still etched into the skin. Several vibrant butterflies danced in the air around the pair, alighting on the boy’s hair and shoulders only to take off again as he moved, their wings lightly kissing his pale skin.

Severus knelt down and took Harry’s hand gently in his while his other tilted his son’s chin so he could look him in the eyes. “You have nothing to be ashamed of; you were under a tremendous amount of strain and trying to cope as best you could. Did he work on your insecurities about me?” he asked quietly.

Harry nodded his head, tears threatening to overflow his eyes. “He said you were using me, that you never loved m-m-me...” The tears overflowed the banks of his lower lids and cascaded down his cheeks, salty rivulets running into the corners of his mouth as he explained. “He said I was a f-f-fr-freak and that the Headmaster was using me as a pawn and that you still work for V-v-voldemort,” he stuttered out as the emotions that he’d been hiding for the last few weeks came pouring out.

Severus gathered his son in his arms, hugging the small child tightly and reassuringly. Harry buried his head into his father’s robes, drinking in the comforting scents that always seemed to permeate his father. Herbs and potion fumes mixed with his particular aftershave. “All lies, Harry,” the man reassured the little boy, keeping a firm hold on the small body as the thin legs and arms wrapped themselves possessively around his torso and neck. “I love you more than you will ever know - until you have children of your own,” he promised with a smirk that caused his son to smile just a little as he finally raised his head to peer at his sire, trying vainly to scrub the tear tracks from his face. “I am definitely not using you for anything – in fact, if I could, I would take this cup that fate seems so intent on having you drink from and drain it myself if it would keep you safe! Unfortunately, I do think the Dark Lord has it correct about Dumbledore: he does want to use you as a pawn but we already knew that, which is why you, your brother and your friends were training all summer. Dumbledore would train you by tossing you into situations and seeing if you sink or swim – witness last year! I, on the other hand, intend that you and your classmates, all of them if I can, are armed with as much knowledge and skill as I can cram into your stubborn, addlepated heads before the final, inevitable, confrontation.”

“You think there will be one?” Harry asked tremulously, ignoring his fathers acerbic wit in favour of  curling again into his father’s shoulder, wishing he could remain there forever – safe and loved.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he acknowledged, hugging the boy once more before setting him on his feet and standing. “Come, I’m sure we’ve been in here long enough – let’s go reassure everyone that you are fine and see if we can’t heal some of the damage that toad has done to your hand.” As he spoke, his son began regaining his former stature, his hair returning to its neat queue that hung down his back, his Quidditch-trained muscles filling out his school uniform.

As Harry watched, his father faded from his mind, the ghost hand that brushed his fringe leaving a lasting touch on his heart and soon he was laying the last new password along his restored jungle fortress and returning to wakefulness, encased in his father’s arms on the sofa.

Somehow the room had gotten more crowded while they’d been repairing his mind as Madam Pomfrey was now in attendance, tutting away as she saw her patient finally waking up. Apparently, at some point, Professor Weasley had also been called in and he was standing near McGonagall watching the scene with worried eyes. Draco was kneeling at his father’s knees, eyes keenly watching his family. When the two had roused he’d uncharacteristically squeaked before hugging them both tightly and hurrying over to where Hermione was standing, giving her the good news and allowing her to fuss over him – something he rarely permitted her to do in public.

Harry cleared his throat as he gazed around, face growing red in embarrassment to have caused such a fuss. His father gave him a reassuring squeeze as everyone heaved a sigh of relief before they all tried to throw questions at the two and the Floo turned bright green with Sirius’ head popping into being for a Floo call.

“Snape, Snape!” he yelled, effectively silencing the room as he began looking in the wrong direction and Hermione pointed the other way. Sirius turned his head and saw his godson still sitting on his father’s lap. “There you are, thank Merlin! Harry, you had me worried!” he exclaimed, green floo sparks flying from his mouth in agitation.

Harry let his father hand him up so he could reseat himself properly in his favoured corner of the couch, pulling a well-loved throw pillow onto his lap as a further buttress between him and the rest of the occupants in the room. He didn’t see Draco and Hermione scowl at his actions as they were behind him. “There was nothing in my letter to make you worry, Sirius,” he pointed out, frowning. He was sure he’d only written a chatty letter, updating his godfather on how his classes were doing and not much more – although he’d written a quick account of Umbridge and the Weasley Whizzbangs. He’d been glad to see his investment put to such good use and it had been a funny story, one he thought his godfather would appreciate.

“Nothing to worry about? Nothing to worry about, he says!” the fugitive ranted, turning his head to talk over his shoulder to someone on his side of the Floo. They could hear mumbling, words indistinct in the crackling of the green flames before Sirius turned to face the room again. “Hang tight, we’re coming through,” the man boldly stated, pulling his head back out of the fire and causing Severus to sigh loudly while rolling his eyes.

Harry looked at his father and mouthed ‘We’re?’ as Snape wearily directed Hermione to bring some more Murtlap Essence and Draco brought over the rest of the potions and unguents his father had originally requested.

“He’s staying with Lupin,” Severus explained, taking his son’s abused hand and began cleaning it as Poppy leaned in to begin her own investigation of the damage to both his hand and his magic.

“Is someone going to tell me what is going on here?” she asked acerbically, sending a withering glance towards the Potions Professor as if it was his fault Harry was constantly injured.

Everyone took that as the signal to begin speaking at once again, covering up the flare of the Floo. Remus and Sirius began asking the same questions as they took in the scene, loudly. Harry slowly backed further into the corner of the couch, his father scooting along with him keeping the hand aloft as he examined it. Snape’s eyes squinted as the sound level kept increasing until he finally cracked, screaming, “Silence! That is ENOUGH!” He whirled around pinning all of them with quelling stares and they all backed away from the couch, ringing the edge of the room, mercifully mute. “Be quiet, all of you before I cast a mass Silencio!” he insisted while Minerva conjured more chairs as it appeared they would be at this for a while. “Merlin; save me from nosey Griffindors!” Severus grumped under his breath making Harry snort his pained amusement.

“Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Sirius whinged. “And why Harry’s seeming innocuous, chatty note today had his blood all over it?” he accused the room in general. Remus stood next to him, arms crossed and eyes glinting a feral yellow.

“I would like to know as well!” Madam Pomfrey announced. “But my question is who used a Blood Quill on Mr Potter-Snape and why is his hand in such bad shape from it. Well, Severus? You seem to know what is going on,” she said, poking him in the shoulder before handing him a moistened flannel to further clean the affected area. He soaked the cloth even further in an anti-infective that burned in the open wounds causing Harry to visibly wince, catching his breath as he gritted his teeth against the fire in his hand.

The other adult males in the room spluttered aloud as they took in her pronouncement.

“A Blood Quill? Who the hell has one of those instruments of torture in this school?” Remus pounced, eyes flashing in anger. It was obvious to everyone that the wolf was running close to the surface with the full moon just a few days away and several people near him took involuntary steps to distance themselves from his rage.

“Dolores Umbridge,” pronounced Minerva, her lips pursed tightly in disgust. The angrier she got, the more tight-lipped she became. Gryffindors for decades had learned to avoid that particular withering look at all costs.  “The Minister placed her here to be his spy in the school and Dumbledore fully agreed.” It was clear she was not in agreement with this decision. “Fudge then gave her full academic privileges without being a teacher and Harry was the first student who gained a detention with her,” her tone of voice and tilt of head towards Harry indicated her clear opinion of this as she shot a glare over to her outspoken pupil.

“What’d he do, piss on one of her pink kittens?” Sirius joked, chuckling a little. She had been notorious even as a junior secretary when he’d been an Auror before the Potter’s demise, and Tonks and Moody had relayed that she’d only gotten worse as the years had marched on and she’d risen in rank. Expecting a laugh from his jest, he was surprised when it fell flat on his audience. “What? Really?” he asked.

“Close enough,” Bill spoke up, causing the older Order member to frown. “She was insisting that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had not returned and that everything Harry has been spouting off is lies – to his face. She gave him two weeks detention for telling her the truth, essentially. I know Minerva and Severus both told him to not agitate her – but you know Harry, he doesn’t take what happened last year lightly and really hates being told he’s a liar. None of us knew what was going on in those detentions, though,” he pointed out to the seething animagus. “He would only say he was doing lines when any of us asked him.”

“Lines? How many did you have to do with that thing?” Pomfrey exclaimed, grabbing the hand out of Severus’ and looking at it keenly. Severus growled at her as he firmly took the hand back, soaking the flannel again and continuing the cleansing routine.

“Until it sunk in,” said Harry with a flat voice, his eyes locked on his father’s ministrations and his other arm clutching the throw pillow to his torso, the knuckles white with tension. “’I must not tell lies’ over and over again... night after night... ouch!” he winced as his father finished cleaning the blood and pus he’d expressed from the words carved into his son’s flesh and, with a third clean cloth, dabbed on the anti-infective again as Poppy poured a fresh bowl of the Murtlap essence. She conjured a fluffy pillow, soft enough to nestle around the bowl, and placed the contraption on Harry’s lap, immersing his hand in the healing solution. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the thick, greenish essence took away the pain and cooled the raging fire of infection in the cuts. He let up his hold on the shield pillow long enough to swallow several potions to help heal from within and as they took affect, he sighed again, relaxing for – it felt – the first time in weeks.

Sirius looked as if he was ready to go barging out the door and hunt the woman down if it hadn’t been for Remus’ iron grip on his bicep holding him in place. He’d find bruises there in the morning. “Think, Siri,” the werewolf pleaded. “You are still a fugitive! You can’t go barging into a Ministry Under-Secretary’s office; that is just playing right into her hands! We think this is the woman who sent the Dementors after Harry’s cousin! Whoops!” He flushed red as he realized that information had only been discussed amongst the adults that one afternoon in August. Harry had stiffened, swinging his gaze from Lupin to his father, raising his eyebrow.

Severus growled under his breath before rising from the couch to face the man. “Thank you for that pronouncement, Lupin,” he stated in his thickest sarcastic voice; the one that always struck fear in his higher level students; the one that said ‘I expected better of such an advanced student as you!’ “I was waiting to receive confirmation of those suspicions before I told my family.” He turned back to his son; all rancour now absent from his face. “What the wolf says is correct, Harry. Because of her previous appointments within the Ministry, we are fairly certain she was the one who sent the Dementors after Dursley.”

Draco snorted in derision from his spot standing near his brother. “At least we know now that it wasn’t out of some sense of protectiveness for you, Harry. She hates you.”

Harry nodded glumly. “Guess so... is Dudley going to be safe at his school?” he asked, suddenly concerned for his cousin.  “She’s nutters, Dad. I’d feel awful if something happened to him just because he’s related to me.”

“For now,” Severus advised. “But we will keep a closer eye on him. How’s the pain in your hand?” he asked, looking down at the immersed appendage.

“Not so bad, now. I’m just really tired...” And he did look drained, his slight frame melding into the sofa pillows.  Severus looked at him for a moment before nodding his head in an apparent decision. Summoning over Bill Weasley they helped Harry up and walked him to his bedroom as the crowd called out several goodnights.

After settling his son under the red and gold patterned duvet, Severus accio-ed a roll of medical gauze that he dipped into the Murtlap Bill had carried for them and wound it around his son’s hand. He then cast an impervious on the finished bandage so that it wouldn’t dry out overnight or get the covers messy. Bill hustled the gawkers back out of the room, letting only Draco and Hermione past him. They could hear him placate Sirius Black as he protested he should be allowed in as it was his godson and he only wanted to say goodnight, for Merlin’s sake!

Harry sighed deeply as Draco sniggered quietly when they heard Sirius bellow, “Fine! GOODNIGHT, HARRY!!” Hermione rolled her eyes as she shut the door, shutting out the sounds from the front room. She stood in front of it, arms crossed in a guarding manner and glared concernedly at her best friend.

“Merlin!” Harry muttered. “This is why I didn’t tell anyone – I didn’t want any fuss. It felt like it was a personal fight between her and me! I didn’t want anyone else hurt or involved. It seems like that is what happens every time.”

“Oh, Harry...” Hermione commiserated in sympathy. Draco, on the other hand, took a different tack; he cuffed Harry across the top of his brother’s head.

“Hey!” Harry protested. “What was that for?” He rubbed at the sore spot, glaring at his sibling.

“Being an idiotic Gryffindor!” his brother pointed out. “You’ve lived with Slytherins long enough to know better! Dad would have put a stop to it immediately!”

Harry shrugged. “I know. I was just so stunned by the whole thing... and she was saying the same things I was hearing in my dreams each night... Oh...” He looked up startled as he realized only his father was aware of Voldemort’s intrusions. “Umm, yeah...” he said sheepishly.

Draco looked over at his father leaning on the edge of Harry’s desk. “That’s why his magic went all wonky out there? He’s being possessed?” Hermione gasped from her station at the door.

“Not possessed – invaded, mentally abused,” Severus explained patiently. A tact few students, except for his brighter ones, ever heard when he was teaching. “His occlumency barriers were being attacked each night during his dreams. Umbridge was reinforcing the same message during her detentions,” he ground out. “Whether unwittingly or not – we don’t really yet know. She could be pursuing her own warped agenda or she could be a recent agent. She certainly wasn’t a member of his inner or outer ranks previously,” he mused, as if to himself.

“Well we certainly can’t let her do this to anyone else – and those goons in her ‘Squad’ are handing out those detentions right and left,” Hermione complained. Snape straightened and approached her, looming over the short fifth-year, concern etched along his brow. In her favour, she did not back down but looked him square in the eyes.

“Are you aware of anyone else who might be hiding these same wounds?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, sir. And I’m a prefect now – there have been no complaints at all, but if they all felt it was a personal problem, like Harry, they wouldn’t complain, would they?” she pointed out, logically. “She’s obviously quite good with working on internal fears.”

“True,” he murmured as he began pacing the room. “We need to find out what is happening – if anyone else has been violated in the same manner... or worse,” he intimated. He returned to Harry and pulled a small phial from his robes, handing it to his son. “Dreamless Sleep. You need it tonight and tomorrow night as well as, most likely, Sunday night. It will help repair the damage,” he explained, tapping a finger on the boy’s temple. Harry gratefully took it, thumbing off the cork one-handed and downing the contents quickly. Sighing deeply, he handed the empty container back to Severus before letting the potion work its magic, sending him off to a healing sleep. Severus tucked the boy more firmly under the covers, ghosting a kiss over his forehead and removing the boy’s spectacles, placing them out of harms way on the night table.

He nox-ed the lights as they left the room, closing the door softly. Usually Harry left the door unlatched – a hold-over from his years living at his Aunt’s, and normally Snape would comply with his wishes – and he would, later in the evening. Right now, however, he wanted to keep his son away from the discussion that was soon to happen so he closed the door casting a one-way muffling charm on it. He would be able to hear any noises from the bedroom, but Harry wouldn’t hear a thing. He would be able to sleep contentedly.

The three re-entered the parlour to join in on the debating adults. Severus took immediate control of the room, simply by his presence, and calmly poured himself a glass of wine, offering libations to the other adults in the room, summoning Butterbeers for Draco and Hermione, before sitting in his favourite chair, crossing his legs gracefully and taking full command of the situation.

Everyone followed his lead, pulling the other chairs forward to circle around the sitting area. Minerva sat opposite him in the other wing-backed armchair, two fingers of firewhiskey in hand with Draco and Hermione on the sofa and the other four adults ranging among them.

“As Miss Granger has pointed out, the Inquisitorial Squad has been using their new-found powers to set detentions. We need to find out who else has been assigned detention with Umbridge and make sure they have not been similarly abused. That is our first priority; the second is how to remove her before she becomes too powerful. Minerva, can you help with the first problem?”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, a feral gleam entering her eye. They all knew that as Deputy Headmistress it was part of her duties to maintain the detention records down in Filch’s office. “Thank Merlin it has only been a few weeks – there shouldn’t be too many students, hopefully.”

Severus nodded in agreement. “Send them to me or Poppy if you discover they have been abused. In the meantime, until we can get her removed, you will need to subtly reassign any detentions that are given to her to oversee. I will take the matter up with Dumbledore – but via the School Board. They will not take lightly to him allowing banned Torture devices into the school and used on their children.” He grinned evilly at the thought of what the result of that conversation would be and the others shivered at the unholy gleam in his eye. “We also need to have a Head of House meeting in the morning. Minerva, if you could let Filius and Pomona know – we shall meet down here for breakfast, I think, eight A.M,” he decided. “We need to show a united front. The rest of the teachers will fall in line behind our lead on this.”

Bill coughed to gain everyone’s attention. “Umm, not that I really advocate doing this, you understand – but the twins are genius’ when it comes to planning and plotting mayhem. I guess I’m suggesting that we include them in any plans to annoy Umbridge and perhaps run her off...”

Sirius’ eyes caught fire with the suggestion by the the eldest Weasley. “Oh, and I still have some tricks up my sleeve we were never able to pull off before leaving school...” He rubbed his hands in glee while Minerva glared. But she eventually gave in, snorting delicately as she recognized the merit of the suggestion. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“All right,” the Gryffindor Head conceded. “Sirius, you may contact the twins, but I want you to adhere to the protocols already in place for those two; Severus will give you the particulars – it is getting late and Miss Granger is out long past curfew. I need to get her back to her dorm.” She quaffed the last of her firewhiskey and stood, motioning for Hermione to follow her.

Hermione gave Draco a quick squeeze of the hand before rising to join her Head of House at the door. Bill Weasley decided to join them as well, figuring his brothers would still be up and he could get them thinking on what pranks to pull on the unsuspecting Umbridge.

Poppy nodded to Severus as she soon took her leave as well and after a pointed glare from Severus, Remus pulled Sirius to the Floo and pushed him in while the fugitive mumbled to himself. “Yes, Sirius, you can contact the boys in the morning...” Remus soothed as he threw in the powder, whispering the destination to the green flames. Sirius disappeared with a howl and Remus followed neatly after.

“Draco, leave the door cracked open,” Severus reminded as the teen wandered down the hallway after a murmured goodnight to his father.

“I will, Dad,” came the reassuring answer.

Severus stayed seated, pondering his next moves as he sipped at his wine. This was going to have to be a delicate manipulation. His approach to the Board needed to be logical and cast-iron solid. All the teachers had to work together to rid themselves of the parasite and keep Albus clueless until the deed was done, and they needed to keep the students safe.

And he needed to derail the Inquisitorial Squad.

And Narcissa – he thought with a start; he needed to keep her apprised of what was going on. She would have his knackers for lunch if she found out he’d kept this from her. She’d adopted Harry as her own and protected him just as fiercely as her own two flesh-and-blood offspring. 

When he finally rose, he went to check on his sons first, raising the temperature a bit in the room as the castle seemed especially chilled tonight.  He left a night-globe burning in the ensuite and retired to his study where he drafted several letters to the School Board members as well as to Narcissa. He wouldn’t send them tonight – he wanted to look at them again with a fresh, less jaundiced, eye in the morning; but tonight was a good start.    

Harry squirmed under the blankets that he had cocooned himself in overnight. It was so warm and comfortable that he did not want to fully wake up. He’d been blissfully asleep, no nightmares or dreams thanks to his dad’s potions, and he was putting off having to get up until the last possible minute. His body had been exhausted after his explosion and subsequent rebuilding of his Occlumens last night, and to tell the truth he hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last few weeks, so he just wanted to let the feeling of safety and warmth – knowing his family was there for him, no matter what – persist forever and he could tell the rest of the universe to sod off. Unfortunately, his bladder hadn’t received the memo that he was due for lie-in. If he didn’t move soon...

He gave in, reluctantly, and finally cracked his eye open, to be jerked awake even more by the sight of his father’s chief Elf, Runeskin, hovering mid-air - in full meditation pose - over Harry’s stomach. He looked like an elfin Buddha dressed in his loose exercise pants with his eyes closed; a peaceful visage to his face and the runes that he wore on his green tinted skin, the blessings and wishes of his clan, lazily moving over his skin in time to his steady breathing. Harry must have made some noise at the discovery as Runeskin slowly opened his eyes and focused on his young charge.

A smile, much resembling that of a Cheshire cat, transformed the wizened face and before Harry could even raise a hand in protest, the elf winked out of sight. Grumbling loudly, Harry threw back the covers and minced across the cold flag stones to the loo where he could take care of his most urgent needs.

Once there he decided to strip off his pyjamas and take a well-deserved shower. After last night, he felt the need to cleanse himself almost ritualistically to remove the psychic stench that seemed to cling to him after discovering Voldemort’s presence in his mind and Umbridge’s torture still aching across his healing hand.

Under the hot water he looked at the bandage that still swathed his left hand, gleaming pale green in the light. The shower water sheeted off the spell that surrounded the wrap, fascinating the still sleepy boy in its function. He shook himself awake and quickly loosened his long hair from its confining queue, scrubbing the shampoo into its length, digging his fingernails into his scalp to massage the soap into the roots and leaning back under the spray, letting the water rinse the suds away down the drain. He then grabbed his flannel and proceeded to scrub himself nearly raw in his attempt to get clean, revelling in the sting of the water as it dug into his irritated skin.

The showers at Hogwarts were magically heated, and never went cold – unless you specifically wanted them to - so Harry did not have that small reminder that it was time to get out. He just let the water continue to cascade down his body, relaxing tense muscles that still ached even after a night of peaceful sleep. As he relaxed, his emotions seemed to let go as well and a shuddered breath turned into an outright sob and he let the tears fall as he leaned against the warm wall, steam and running water washing him clean.

A discrete cough on the other side of the curtains caused him to startle and splutter under the sluice and he stuck his head around the edge of the curtain to discover his father standing there holding a towel out for him. He ducked back to turn off the water and dash the water out of his face. He held out his arm for the towel which he slung around his hips after towelling himself dry, before pushing the curtains back and stepping out into the steam-filled room.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said sheepishly, running his hand through his damp locks. “Uhmmm, how long was I in there?”

“About forty minutes,” the man replied. He raised an eyebrow. “Feel better?” he asked, spying the reddened eyes. When the first emotional release had occurred, he’d felt the tug on his bond with his son – but it hadn’t been urgent and he knew Harry would be better for the purge under the shower.

Harry nodded quickly and reached for his hairbrush, starting in on the ends of his hair and slowly working up its length.

“My hand still aches, but it is a more of a healing ache than infection. Kind of like it’s been overused?” he described, wriggling the affected fingers for the man.

Severus nodded after a cursory look. “That is to be expected. How about your Occlumens?”

“Tighter than before. I’m definitely calmer. I don’t have the urge to attack you any longer,” he pointed out, reaching behind to divide his hair into thirds and began to quickly plait it, summoning a Muggle elastic band to tie off the end. Hermione kept him in supply whenever she visited her parents.

“Ah, so that’s why you’ve been avoiding me all month,” his father correctly guessed. His son raised an apologetic face to him, sitting down dejectedly on the closed commode lid.

“I’m really sorry, Dad. I should have realized it was Voldemort guiding those dreams from the start. I don’t know how he got in...” he started, only to stop as his father rested a hand on his shoulder.

“He just needed to find one small chink in your armour; then Umbridge’s detentions did not help you at all, making that crack just that much larger,” Severus explained calmly.

Harry contemplated this, arms folded over his bare chest. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded.

Severus snorted in amusement. “Of course I’m right, I’m your father; it goes with the job description.” The quip managed to put a slight grin on his son’s face and he counted it a job well done. The boy was too serious at times. (Although he’d never admit that to his dogfather!) “Now get dressed and join us for breakfast. The Heads of House will be here in a few minutes; we have much to discuss. We’ll re-wrap your arm afterwards, if needed. I’m sure they will all want to see the wounds for themselves in any case.” He opened up the bathroom door, letting out the steamy air and admitting the colder variety so that Harry squeaked in indignation.

“Get dressed and you won’t have to worry about the cool air!” Severus flung back as he exited the room and headed back to the main parlour. He had several things he still had to do before eight o’clock and his colleagues arrived. He smirked to himself knowing his son had just playfully stuck his tongue out at him, behind his back. At least Harry could still be a teenager when warranted.

)O-O(

Harry finally came out to the sitting area, joining his family in setting out a breakfast buffet for their guests. Runeskin was directing the Prince Manor elves in placement of food, drink, plates and silverware, setting heating charms on the chafing dishes and making sure that everything sparkled. Harry accepted a welcome cup of tea from Draco after assuring his brother he was much better. He retreated to his favourite spot on the divan, curling into the corner, saucer on one knee and a plate of breakfast hovering over his other one. Despite feeling better than he had in three weeks, he wasn’t really all that hungry and picked at his food, preferring his tea this morning over everything else.

Instead, he watched as his father set a sheaf of notes on the coffee table, tapping them into some sort of order; watched his brother take his time choosing his morning meal before joining Harry on the couch and smirked when, as the first knock came on the solid oak door, Runeskin clapped his hands and all the Manor elves disappeared with barely a whisper of displaced air. He really wanted to learn how to Apparate like elves did! The common snap of displaced air that most Wizards and Witches created could give you away in a fight.

As the smell of cooked breakfast meats suffused the area, Silicia wound her way up the side of the divan and over Harry’s shoulder, tasting the air with her tongue and hissing contentedly. Harry grinned over at the head bobbing and weaving next to his own and held up some titbits for his familiar to delicately take and eat. Somehow she always managed to find her way to him even when he’d left her in the Gryffindor Common Room the day before. He smirked at his brother who was watching the exchange closely - and with fear filled eyes - as the poisonous fangs closed in on the meat, close to Harry’s fingers.

“She’s not going to bite me, Draco,” Harry chided, amusedly offering another bite to Silicia as the other three heads of house filled their plates and chose seats around the crackling flames in the Floo.

“So you say,” Draco muttered before shuddering and deliberately looking away.

Harry chuckled, feeding his cobra one last bite before she yawned and coiled up on his lap, her tongue scenting the room every so often in contentment as her eyes remained half-hooded. His own Head of House snorted in amusement as she sat in a chair between him and his father’s wing-back – lending visible support to the family.

“All right there, Potter-Snape?” she asked quietly.

“Better than yesterday, Professor,” he assured her. She laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing once, before taking a deep sip from her own tea-cup.

“Don’t worry – we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. I’m so sorry, Harry. We should have been more vigilant of her activities.”

“Nah, you and Dad warned me off – I was too stubborn. Matter of pride,” he explained sheepishly.

“Too often a Gryffindor failing and source of strength,” she noted. “My word, what a spread the castle elves put out for us this morning! I wonder why Albus can’t get them to do this for our staff meetings?” she commented, gazing appreciatively at the fully loaded sideboard.

“Because it wasn’t the castle elves, Minerva,” Snape told her as he took his own seat on her other side. “I didn’t want Albus to get wind of this discussion as we are already at loggerheads after last year. The castle elves are bound to the castle through him; they are duty bound to let him know if asked. Mine, on the other hand, are loyal to me and know when to keep their mouths shut.”

She nodded in understanding as the Filius and Pomona finished filling their plates and grabbed their favourite morning caffeine boost before seating themselves in the remaining two chairs.

“I’m sure you two are wondering why we are having this impromptu meeting this morning,” Severus began. “It came to our attention last night that Umbridge was over-stepping her bounds – more than we previously believed,” he began ominously.

“How so?” Flitwick asked, curiously gazing at the two students in their midst.

“Last night, at the end of prefect rounds, Draco and Miss Granger discovered Harry had been suffering in silence after two weeks of detention with the High Inquisitor. Now, we all knew Harry had been given those detentions and, when asked, he only said he was doing lines. I’ll let him explain and show you how he performed those lines,” Severus said darkly. He looked over at where Harry was sitting very still in the corner of the couch. “Harry, it is time to take the bandage off,” he gently said. Harry had tucked the affected hand down amongst the cushions, rolling his sleeve over it. He pulled it out now, reluctantly.

“Bandage?” Pomona asked quietly.

Minerva just pursed her lips. “You’ll see,” she muttered.

Harry handed his plates over to his brother - who set them on the coffee table - and began to unwind the now-dry wrappings around his left hand. He wriggled his fingers and wrist around to work the stiffness out of them before he sneaked a look at the back of his hand.

Where last night the hand had been raw, infected and oozing pus and blood, today only a thin red scar, just like on his forehead, remained – but the words were clear: I must not tell lies.

He sighed – he’d been hoping nothing would remain, but then he supposed it wouldn’t be a proper cursed dark object if that had been the case. He held his hand tilted down so that everyone could see and nearly smiled when Professor Flitwick squeaked in indignation.

“That is from a Blood Quill!” he protested, floating off his cushioned seat in a rare show of accidental magic. Pomona reached a hand out and patted him back into his seat.

“What is that torture device doing here?” she glowered, staring at the scar on Harry’s hand before he quickly stuffed it away. He’d had it out long enough for everyone to look at.

“Umbridge apparently obtained one from the Ministry or on the black market,” Severus intoned. “I don’t particularly care right now, other than the fact that she has it and used it nightly on my son for two weeks!” He nearly shouted the last words in his frustration. He gazed down for a moment, breathing deeply to regain his composure while Harry and Draco opened their eyes wide in amazement; their father rarely was that close to losing the plot.

“In any case,” he finally continued; his voice calmer if not less intense, “this is the last straw. I warned Albus at the end of last year that if anything else harmed Harry or Draco I would take matters into my own hand. I nearly had dis-enrolled the boys after last term, but they convinced me to let them return, wanting to stay with their friends.”

His sons looked up quickly at his words, staring at him in disbelief. “Dad -” Draco started.

Severus raised a hand to stall him. “No, I’m not going to take you out of school at this point. However, I am going to put an end to this mismanagement. He has taken too many risks with your brother and placed the rest of the students at risk as well over these last few years. He has gone too far with Madam Umbridge.”

“What do you intend to do, Severus?” Pomona asked.

“Several things. The first of which was notifying the other heads of house. We need to maintain a united front. As I told Minerva last evening, the other teachers will follow our lead. In the meantime, in honour of the upcoming season, we are going to let the twins declare an all-out prank war on the Madam. They will be having some help from outside sources, which shall remain nameless at this point. While this is going on, I have drafted missives to the Board of Governors. I am sure that they are unaware of what is occurring. Because Dumbledore and I are not seeing eye-to-eye, I felt that letting the BoG know what was happening and enlisting their help in confronting Albus was preferential.”

“Was anyone else tortured?” Pomona darkly enquired.

Minerva coughed to gain their attention. “After last night’s occurrence, I quietly checked the detention logs to see who else had been assigned detention with her. Apparently many of the students are all part of Severus and Bill Weasley’s defence group.”

“Bloody Hell...” Harry muttered, before clapping a hand over his mouth in contrition. It was measure of how strong everyone else felt about the news that no-one chided him.

“I’ve already sent owls to those students asking them to meet me later this morning. I intend to have Poppy there as well. Hopefully the rest won’t be as bad, but we just don’t know yet.”

“I’ve already sent Pomfrey several jars of murtlap and scaradicate, just in case,” Severus chimed in. “I wish the scaradicate worked better on curse scars, but it does mitigate most of the damage.”

“So, if I’m to understand you correctly – we are to let the Weasley twins prank the pink menace until the BoG makes their decision known?” Flitwick asked.

“Correct. I will handle any disciplinary action necessary for them to make it look legitimate, but they will be stepping up their antics. Hallowe’en is a perfect cover.”

A gleam came to Filius’ eye as he said, “Indeed it is. If you will excuse me, I believe I shall go consult with our budding entrepreneurs. Minerva, please provide me a list at your earliest convenience of all the students affected in my house,” he requested as he hopped down from his seat.

“You’ll have it before lunch; all of you will,” she promised. That seemed to be the signal for the other teachers to depart, which they did quickly.

)O-O(

“Fifteen students in all were tortured by that – woman!” Minerva told Severus that night when she stopped by for a night-cap. “All of them were members of the defence group and had been present at the meeting she crashed in September,” she clarified.

“I suspected that was the case. And I noticed that where there were siblings, only one received the punishment. Draco wasn’t touched,” he gave as an example. “Most only had to endure one session and because she fed on their insecurities, they all kept quiet about it. Not a single one would admit to it unless outright told we knew this was happening and would they show us their non-dominant hand.” He grimaced before sipping on his own small glass of elf-wine. Narcissa, sitting next to him, placed a placating hand on his knee for a moment. Calista and she had Flooed over that afternoon after receiving Severus’ owl. She had to make sure for herself that her sons were all right.

“Yes, the others found the same. They’ve all been treated now and I have it set up so that any further detentions assigned to her to oversee are distributed to the heads of house instead. Simple charm work on the detention log,” she explained; a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she buried her lips into her liberally fire-whiskey laced tea-cup before continuing.

“Remus and Sirius met the twins, Bill and Filius in Hogsmeade this afternoon. I don’t even want to know what they are planning,” she gave a world-weary sigh.

“I do know, but only because I had to pre-set their punishments. I will just say that she will have a time of it next week,” he hinted, dark humour glinting in his black eyes. “I’ve heard back from some of the governors; there will be an emergency secret meeting next weekend. We need to get as much proof as possible to present to them. I’m expecting Albus will be called to task, as well as Madam Umbridge?” he looked at Narcissa for confirmation.

“Yes, I can guarantee that both will be taken to task,” she agreed. “And I will need as much evidence as we can procure to convince some of the older members of the Board. I need to ask you, Minerva, if we sack Albus – are you ready to take on the mantle of the wards?” As Lucius’ widow it was her right to claim first refusal to his seat on any Board he had sat on. She chose to retain most of those privileges – only declining those seats belonging to corporations she considered shady or of little interest to her, and she had promptly sold off whatever shares Lucius had held in those enterprises, not wanting to associate the Malfoy fortune with them any longer.

They all knew that getting the Hogwarts Board of Governors to move any faster than treacle was a feat in and of itself. Lucius had perpetuated this as it meant he could get the Board to stall on any measures that were not favourable to him or his interests. Narcissa was a breath of fresh-air in a room full of stodgy aristocratic men. With her smile and oh, so sweet words she was able to manoeuvre them into agreeing with her agendas and in a timely manner, too. The Board never knew what hit them.

Minerva was quiet for a moment, thinking about the responsibility if it was suddenly thrust upon her shoulders. “If it is asked of me, of course I will agree. It is up to Fawkes, though, isn’t it? He always chooses the Headmaster. It might be a sign of the situation, but Fawkes hasn’t been present a lot this term. More often than not when I’m meeting with Albus, the Phoenix is not there.”

Severus and Narcissa shared a knowing look. “That is very telling indeed,” Narcissa agreed. “Fawkes apparently does not agree with Albus’ tactics and his decisions. If he totally repudiates him, the castle’s wards will also leave him. I can’t believe that it is just the hiring of Umbridge or his attempts to manipulate Harry that are causing this. What else is going on?” she asked, looking at the Deputy Headmistress shrewdly.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Ever since Albus was released from Crouch’s imprisonment he has seemed changed. Granted, he’d already put Harry’s name in to the cup before Crouch waylaid him – and that was heinous on its own level – but lately he has just...” She waved a hand to indicate her frustration. “Hiring Dolores was his idea – she wasn’t foisted on us by the Ministry, like a lot of people think – he asked for her. What does that indicate to you?” she aimed back at the Board Governor.

“I think he is trying to gear up for something – or test the mettle of his saviour. Do you think he authorized the use of the Quill?” Narcissa asked McGonagall point blank.

“Very possibly. At this point I wouldn’t put it past him. I really think since Severus flat out told him to stay away from Harry that he is using this as a way to further test Harry – keeping his hands clean, so to say. He’s using Dolores and her bigotry to his own advantage. She is his perfect stooge. We shall just have to wait until she is brought before the Board to find out for sure, I suppose.”

“Just get me as much evidence as you can. What about this ‘Inquisitorial Squad’ the children were telling me about this afternoon? Is there any way we can get it disbanded? It just smacks of the Inquisition. This whole situation is reminiscent of it.”

Severus shook his head. “Not until we get Umbridge removed. At that point anything instituted by her will be suspect and can be stopped. However, I’m sure the twins will be targeting the members of that group just as specifically. They need to spread around the pranks to make it less noticeable at first. They have it well in hand, however.”

Minerva nodded in agreement. “And how are Harry and Draco today? Did they enjoy having you and Calista coming over?”

“Callie succeeded in getting Harry to smile and laugh. That child has her brothers wound around her little finger,” Severus chimed in, chuckling. “She’s asleep in there now – the boys put the beds together and requested that we make one King Size bed for the night. She wanted to sleep between them both and wouldn’t choose which bed.” He shrugged – it had been a small request and he’d been happy to fulfil it.

“Hmm, and apparently you too, I’d wager,” Minerva waggled her own finger in his direction. Narcissa chuckled as well at the expression on Severus’ face.

“Guilty,” he admitted. “In any case, the boys will be back in circulation tomorrow after breakfast. Their friends all stopped by today and convinced them it would be better to be seen as not affected than to let her tactics take precedence. Smart children,” he mused.

 “Well, thank Merlin for that. I think I’m going to enjoy watching Dolores being pranked this week. Cheers, Severus!” She clinked her cup with his wine glass and then with Narcissa’s. “And hang onto this girl – she’s good for you!” She winked at Narcissa causing her to break out in a sparkling laugh.

“I have no idea what you are insinuating, you old cat!” he smirked back before they all broke out in laughter.

“Can you keep it down out there, we’re trying to sleep!” the boys yelled in tandem from their room, only causing the three to laugh harder. 

The excitement at the Gryffindor table Sunday morning was contagious as the Snape boys and their friends congregated for breakfast. Calista had insisted on her brothers escorting her to the Great Hall and fully enjoyed being the golden-haired princess holding court amongst the Lions. And, just like a princess, she had the boys wrapped around her fingers filling her plate, cutting her food while the girls eyed the child’s golden curls with longing – their fingers fairly itching to play with them. Narcissa sat between Severus and Minerva and enjoyed watching the students intermingle among the tables, commenting on the camaraderie that seemed to have a hold on the majority of the students. Of course a lot of that could be that the majority were united in their hatred of Umbridge and the revelations of the day before. While the Snapes had been holed up in the dungeon quarters most of the day, It hadn’t taken long for the grapevine to spread the news throughout the school as to why students had been called to the Headmistresses office. The defence group had managed that small feat quite quickly and efficiently.

She nodded at William Weasley as he slipped in next to Severus, pouring a large cup of milky tea and sliding bacon, tomatoes and eggs Benedict onto his plate in quick succession. He reached for the pot of jam in front of his colleague and whispered, “Toad in ten seconds and counting,” into Severus’ ear. The Potion Master’s only reaction was a quirked eyebrow that was just as hastily lowered as he directed a floating rack of toast corners over to Bill.

Sure enough, the pink wonder herself came stalking through the doors. Well, she was trying to stalk. Instead it appeared as if she was mincing her way along the central aisle towards the teachers table, sometimes even stumbling as she went. Titters from the students flittered through the hall as speculation flew as to whether she was drunk. Minerva’s mouth tightened into a severe line and, unless you knew her, you wouldn’t know she was doing her utmost not to outright laugh. Flitwick followed in her wake and after her third tripped step, where she had to catch herself on the corner of the Ravenclaw table so as not to land on her face, he hurried up to her to see if she was alright.

“May I help you, Madam Umbridge?” he asked solicitously, extending a hand in her direction. The laughable part was, she really wasn’t that much taller than the part-Goblin. However, she acted as if he was offering her a poisoned branch and reared back, hissing to keep his filthy hands to himself, she was perfectly fine, thank you very much!

The Ravenclaws nearby took clear affront to this and started to stand up to defend their Head of House until he waved them back to their seats and breakfasts and gestured for the woman to precede him to the teachers table. She straightened up, smoothed down her pink herringbone skirt and continued her trek to her spot at the table, tripping one last time and landing in Hagrid’s lap. At that point several students were doubled over and Umbridge glared at them from her compromising position.

“Now, now, Madam,” Hagrid chuckled as he helped her to an upright position. “Thar’s no need fer that this early in the morn’!”

“What! I – I,” she blustered, cheeks as pink as her fuzzy cardigan. “The corner of the flagstone tripped me!” She turned to where Dumbledore was watching her amusedly. “Dumbledore, it is clear the floor in the Great Hall needs to be redone. Obviously with its age, the stones are a crumbling mess!” she declared. “Why, you saw for yourself the number of times my heels caught the edges of the flags coming up here!”

“Hmmm,” was all Dumbledore said as he sipped at his goblet of Pumpkin juice. She obviously was not going to get any help from that corner!

Snape just caught the eyes of the twin pranksters who were grinning from ear to ear and gave them a discrete nod. That was one.

)O-O(

“Minerva!”

Professor McGonagall stopped on her way to her office and slowly turned to face the person calling her name out so familiarly. She watched as Dolores Umbridge hastened towards her, almost staggering as she approached. She arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Dolores, don’t you think it a bit early to be indulging in spirits? It’s before ten, you know!” she reprimanded.

“I have most decidedly not had anything to drink! I think perhaps I have a loose heel. Yes, that must be it...” she ended by mumbling to herself, twisting an ankle around to eye her low, kitten heeled, sensible pink, oxford pump. She frowned when an inspection of both heels showed them to be in perfect working order. “I don’t understand...” she whinged.

McGonagall sighed. “Madam Umbridge, did you wish something of me? Otherwise, I have quite a number of essays to mark this morning.”

The toad stamped both feet once, striking the heels hard on the floor before looking up at the Transfiguration Mistress. “Yes, yes. I thought that I had several detentions this afternoon, but when I checked the book, they were assigned to you and Snape,” she pointed out.

“Just an evening out of duties, Dolores. We take these in rotation, you know. Or perhaps you didn’t – you’re not an academician, so I suppose that might have been missed in your orientation.” The slight dig, expertly applied had the desired effect of causing the choler to rise in Dolores’ cheeks. McGonagall continued as if she hadn’t noticed anything. “I had noticed you’d had a fair amount of these onerous duties over the last couple of weeks and thought you would like a little break. Really, they can get so tedious, especially when you tend to see the same students over and over again.” They had begun walking again along a corridor lined with suits of armour every few feet and Umbridge kept peering intently at the visors of the armour as they walked past each one. At one point she even shook her head, as if to dislodge a biting gnat.

“I see,” she said distractedly. “Pardon me, Minerva, but do you hear that – whistling?”

“Whistling? No, can’t say that I do. Where are you hearing it?” she asked stopping and looking down at the woman.

“From this armour!” She walked over to the nearest tin man and lifted the visor, peering inside and knocking on the breast plate to make sure it was still hollow. “But there’s no one in here!” she groused.

“Dolores,” Minerva asked quite sharply, “Are you sure you aren’t starting the Hallowe’en celebration a little early? It isn’t until next weekend!”

“Can’t you hear it?” the woman asked desperately. “It’s like a funeral march... Dun dun dun, dun de dun, dun de dun...” she demonstrated, whistling an off-tune line of music which Minerva instantly recognized as the theme from the Imperial March from Star Wars. You couldn’t be a Head of House that included a number of Muggle-born or Half-blood witches and wizards over the last seventeen years and not heard the music from those three movies. It was all she could do not to bust a gut in the corridor. However, years of dealing with pranksters such as the Marauders and the Weasley and Prewitt twins had trained her in keeping her amusement to herself and projecting a stern facade. It came in handy now as she let peevishness creep into her voice.

“No, Madam Undersecretary, I hear nothing but the two of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have office hours I must keep.” She stalked off, heels clacking rhythmically as she traversed the rest of the corridor to her office door, shutting it firmly behind her.

Ignoring the frustrated professor, Umbridge kept lifting the visors and peering into the empty metal suits, mumbling to herself.

)O-O(

“C’mon, I’m your brother!” Ron wheedled as he and the other pack of Weasley’s piled in through the portrait hole. “Give me some sort of hint of what to watch out for!”

Fred and George turned their heads towards each other for a moment then turned back to their younger brother. “No,” they stated firmly.

“Two words,” George said.

“Plausible –“

“Deniability.”

“What you don’t know, you can’t be implicated in. You’re already enough of a target for being Harrikins best friend,” Fred pointed out. “This way you won’t be able to tell what you don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t tell!” Ron protested hotly. “Hermione, tell them, I wouldn’t tell the toad anything!”

“Leave me out of this, Ronald, I happen to agree with them,” she stated from her position on the couch, a huge Arithmancy textbook on her lap. She didn’t even bother to look up from her reading.

“Thanks a lot, Hermione!” he groused. “C’mon, guys, I can help!”

“No, actually, you can’t. You see, little brother, this is our swan song to celebrate the years of pranking we’ve given this school –“ Fred pointed out, draping one arm chummily over Ron’s shoulders and gesturing widely with his other, as if presenting Ron with a huge diorama of their future plans.

“We fully expect to be expelled when this is over and if we’re not –“ George said, mimicking his brother’s stance on the other side of Ron.

“Then we intend to quit,” they declared together. 

Ron gaped at them, doing a fair imitation of a codfish. “Quit? But you – you can’t! Where would go? What would you do? Mum will murder you!” he hinted darkly.

“I expect they’ll open that shop they’ve been yammering about for the last decade,” Ginny piped up from where she was sitting in Dean’s lap.

“Ginny!” All three of her brother’s protested, turning as one in her direction.

“Oh, bother!” she muttered before placing a chaste buss on Dean’s willing mouth, then hopping down and sauntering past her siblings. “Get over it,” she advised over her shoulder.

Harry’s shoulders were trembling in laughter from where he sat next to Hermione. His dad had told him some of what the twins had planned for the week, and if breakfast had been any indication, it was going to be a fun week. But the siblings were entering dangerous territory when it came to the questioning that Ron was subjecting them to.

“Back to the subject!” Ron insisted, snapping his fingers in front of the twins’ faces. “What are you going to do if you leave?”

“We have our savings-“

“And we have our eye on some premises in Diagon Alley – “

“Already put a down payment on it.”

“How can you afford a down payment?” Ron asked. “Mum and Dad can’t afford to lend you the gold, and while I know your mail-order business was bringing in some money, after overhead you wouldn’t have cleared much,” he said wisely. Harry looked up in shock; who knew Ron paid that much attention to his brothers’ burgeoning business, or that he knew such terms as Overhead! Fred caught his eye, nodding towards Ron. If they didn’t tell the youngest male Weasley, he’d snitch on them to their mother. Harry sighed and shrugged. It was going to come out at some point.

Fred looked around for a moment and, spotting an open corner, guided his brother’s over to it. Harry watched from under his fringe.

“They’re telling him where their funding is coming from, aren’t they?” Hermione whispered from her seat next to him. His quill screeched to a halt on his parchment. He’d have to remove the jagged line of ink from his transfiguration homework.

“Where do you think it came from?” he asked, swallowing convulsively.

Hermione gave him a pitying look. “Really, Harry, it is quite obvious you gave them your winnings!”

“It is not!” he hissed at her, glaring at his friend. “How did you find out?” he demanded.

She smiled over at him and flicked at his queue playfully. “I followed you on the train,” she confided in a whisper. “I saw you give them the bag with the Ministry of Games stamp on it.” She bumped his shoulder with hers conspiratorially. “I think it was quite generous of you, and really nice.”

“So glad it meets with your approval,” he whispered back, raising his wand to erase the mistake. He watched in satisfaction as it siphoned off the unwanted ink. “Don’t know if Ron will see it that way. Uh oh...” he said as he looked up at the dark shadow in front of him. “Uh, hi, Ron.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why them?” Ron asked, although not as angry as Harry thought he would be. Ron actually sounded as if he was just curious as to Harry’s reasoning.

Harry sighed and rubbed at his eyes before resettling his frames and looking up at Ron. “Because they are geniuses when it comes to inventing new things and I wanted a place to put the money where I felt it would do the most good; because with the war coming on I felt we all deserved a laugh, and because Zonko’s products are six decades behind the times.” He squinted at Ron. “Enough reasons for you, mate?”

“Yep, just wondered.” He looked over at the twins. “Make it good – that’s all I ask. Drown her in kittens, I don’t care – just make her pay.” With that he turned around and stomped through the portrait hole.

“I think our little brother is growing up, Gred.”

“Nah, it was just an aberration, Forge. But I do like that idea...”

)O-O(

The next morning, during breakfast, a loud croaking sound was heard coming from the Gryffindor table before an irate Neville Longbottom was seen chasing his toad across the Great Hall.

“Trevor! Come back here!” he yelled impatiently as everyone present laughed at the sight of the fifth year running and making attempts to grab the reluctant amphibian. “Merlin’s pants!” he cursed before whipping his wand out and yelling out clearly, “Accio toad!”

As Trevor came zooming to him from under the Ravenclaw table, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and hundreds of brown and olive-drab toads were hopping into the wide area, causing the tiny lower year girls to begin screaming their fool heads off, jumping onto the benches and tables to escape the plague. Neville slipped out of the room after nodding to his Potions Master, pocketing the escape artist toad, barely able to keep the grin off of his face.

Ignoring the screaming chits, the toads manoeuvred down the length of the hall, resistant to any repeated attempts of Accio-ing them by the Inquisitorial Squad into waiting transfigured bags, and they began making long leaps onto the teachers’ table, all in the vicinity of Umbridge herself, who squealed when the first one landed in her porridge, splattering her blouse with white gruel and croaking love songs to his queen. More and more of the large, wart covered animals made it onto the table, joining in the chorus as they crooned in deep, bass notes.

The sight that nearly made Severus lose his composure and had Minerva snorting her tea was Filch running down the centre aisle, asthmatically wheezing, his high-kneed stride looking absolutely ridiculous as he attempted to side-step the toads on the flagstones.

Umbridge floundered out of her chair, vainly attempting to shoo the offending creatures away as more and more piled in around her. “Filch! Do something! Get these vile creatures away!” she cried, flinging porridge in every direction as her hands fluttered, causing the teachers at that end to either duck or raise hasty shields.

To Filch’s credit he looked at her as if she’d lost her reason. “How?” he simply asked; looking tearfully at all the croakers around his feet. Mrs Norris twined around his shoulders, hissing at the amphibians.

“With magic, of course!” she said exasperatedly. A collective intake of air rendered the room silent and everyone held their breath, waiting for the caretaker’s response. It was one of those facts that you learned in your first weeks of going to Hogwarts: Filch was a Squib and was quite ashamed of it. Mrs Norris, his beloved Kneazle, was the closest he would ever come to having magic. It was also a known fact that Mr Filch had been a firm supporter of Umbridge and her over-reaching policies all term; applauding the formation of the Inquisitorial Squad and delighting in the harsh detentions she would let him supervise. To have her turn on him now – unthinkable.

“Madam!” Dumbledore chastised quite sharply.

“What?” she replied sarcastically, actually rolling her eyes in the Headmaster’s direction, not yet realizing what she had done. He nodded to Filch and her eyes finally saw the heartbroken look on the old man’s face. “Argus, I –“

“I see,” he said; voice breaking, full of emotion. “I see how you really feel, Madam. Come, my precious,” he crooned to the cat draped around his neck. “Let’s leave her to her - admirers.” He turned around and shuffled out of the room, a few sniffles were heard from his retreating back and nearly as one the entire student body swivelled their accusatory eyes towards the Undersecretary. Filch, no matter how inept, was one of their own. He was an institution in the school – and, as an outsider, you don’t insult an institution. Only the students had the right to insult him, and even then it was never to his face. It just wasn’t done.

“Madam, I think you should go change. Leave the amphibian chorus to me – I will see that they are removed,” Dumbledore said, quite firmly, and Umbridge meekly obeyed – slipping out the teacher’s entrance.

Taking a large, satisfied, gulp from the coffee cup the boys had gotten him years ago, Snape mentally ticked off in his head, that’s three.

Harry stood at the entrance to the seventh floor corridor where the entrance for the Room of Requirement was hidden. He was making sure that no un-authorized persons were going to see the small clumps of students wending their way towards this part of the castle. He’d already set Crookshanks on his weekly date with Mrs Norris and he distinctly had the impression that the orange kneazle was getting highly annoyed with him. He’d have to make it up to him at the end of term.

He nodded in greeting to students as they passed him, shushing excited younger years here on their first visit. He finally spotted his brother’s tell-tale shock of platinum hair bent over a much shorter head of pale blonde hair, his girlfriend on the other side lending her support as well. As they drew closer, he could tell that the younger student, Luna, had red-rimmed eyes and he hurried over, drawing them to the side away from prying eyes.

“What happened?” he asked Hermione.

“Dean went back to Ginny – he was trying to see both of them at the same time but Ginny made him choose. He told Luna this afternoon. Draco – No!” she hissed.

But Draco had spotted Thomas approaching the corridor and had growled a warning, nearly making it to the terrified Gryffindor before Bill had raised a shield between them.

“Gentlemen, no fighting in the corridors! Thomas, get in here, now – Draco, calm down and get a hold on your temper!” he warned over his shoulder as he waved his arms at some straggling Slytherins who had to walk the furthest to reach the room, hurrying them along. They all shot malevolent looks at the seething Ravenclaw as Dean slid into the room behind them, gossiping in hushed voices as they obeyed their instructor.

Hermione soothed the younger girl as they followed soon after and Harry put a hand on his brother’s chest, halting him before he could take his temper into the practice room.

“Harry, let me go hex him!” Draco growled.

“No, I won’t let you do that. There are easier ways to get at him – and much more satisfying. Besides, you know Professor Weasley won’t let you duel against him in club tonight. Not now.”

Draco slumped against the wall, running a hand through his hair – messing it up even further. “He hurt her, Harry – even after we told him not to, he went and hurt her.”

“Yes, but so did Ginny – and she was Ginny’s friend first,” Harry pointed out. “I really should’ve realized what was going on – she was sitting on his lap the other night in the Common Room...” He frowned at himself, annoyed he’d missed the implications at the time. He really needed to start paying better attention.

“And you didn’t say anything? Harry!” Draco accused, verbally echoing Harry’s misgivings.

“Oi! I plead Umbridge!” Harry threw at him.

Draco sighed, “Fair enough. She would make common sense leave the room gibbering in fear.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. So, I say we just gained some more targets in the Prank War.”

A slow, but satisfied smirk transformed Draco’s face. “Brother, dear, you are a genius.”

“I have my moments,” Harry laughed. “Now, let’s get in there before the Toad comes along.” Laughing, they entered the room and managed to keep away from Ginny and Dean the rest of the night. Hermione kept Luna occupied with some research, the younger student not feeling up to practicing spells – but she was a crack researcher. And if some stray stinging hexes made their way to Dean’s buttocks – Professor Weasley said not one word.

)O-O(

One of the brilliant moves about targeting Umbridge until the Board of Governors could get moving was her reactions. By mid-week she had realized that she tended to always be in the vicinity of these occurrences. She started approaching corridor junctions warily, peering around corners before continuing on; staring at students with a paranoid glint in her eye, mumbling how she really hated children.

Peeves, the poltergeist, had spotted the target straight off and, after she had insulted Filch – which Peeves considered poaching on his own especial territory – he had joined in on the fun, raining water balloons on her periodically. Not just any ordinary water balloon – no, these had other... substances... in them than plain water.

Castle inhabitants who were unlucky enough to be in the vicinity when the balloons were launched could find themselves coated in Bubotuber pus, stinksap, bogies, squid ink and Bundimun secretions not to mention various sticky and staining food stuffs like cherry juice, honey and jam.  The students got used to hearing her wailing and storming off to her office to change, covered in every known foul viscous liquid known to wizard-kind and teachers were stockpiling late slips and teaching cleaning charms to the older students to help combat the problem. Oddly, no one had seen the Bloody Baron floating around all week.  

As the week progressed, and her temper darkened, so did her pink ensembles. She normally was seen in pale or bismuth-pink; nowadays, she was ranging in the more fuchsia range and the darkening expression on her face matched her couture.

When Hagrid had finally returned over the previous weekend, she had taken it upon herself to “inspect” his class-notes for the remainder of the term, sneering at him and insulting him the entire time. Very despondent after the interview, he’d talked to Harry and Draco when they’d finally managed some free time to go and visit their friend.

“She’s a piece o’ werk, ain’t she,” he’d commented to the boys, setting out rock cakes and tea. He looked over at Harry. “’Ow’s yer hand, Arry? Yer dad tol’ me what ‘appened.”

Harry glanced at the back of his hand, but slid the gaze back to the half-giant. “Better. Healed as much as it ever will; I’ll always have a scar, but I use it as a bit of a reminder – to trust my family more.” He rubbed his other hand over it, massaging out some small, phantom residual ache that always seemed to manifest when he thought about the detentions.

Hagrid patted Harry on the shoulder in sympathy, nearly pushing Harry off of his stool in his enthusiasm. “Yer a brave lad, ‘Arry – always ‘ave been. But yer right: trust in yer dad, ‘ee has experience, ya know.”

Harry nodded, sipping at his tea. He fully agreed. He gazed at Hagrid’s face where scratches and a deepening black eye could be seen. A large, poisonous green dragon steak that had previously been used to help draw out the pooling blood was now being eaten by Fang who had whined incessantly until being given the treat. “What happened to your face, Hagrid? Did the giants do that?”

“’Who told yeh about the giants?” Hagrid blustered, half-heartedly.

Draco just looked at their large friend. “We aren’t stupid, Hagrid –“

“I neveh said yeh were –“

“- we figured out that was where you were on your mission for the Headmaster,” Draco clarified. “Really, where else could he send you?”

 “Oh.” Hagrid visibly deflated, sitting down in his overlarge chair. “Well, in any case – don’t worry about me, just ran into a tree branch one night, tha’s all.”

The boys shared a look that clearly voiced their opinions that they did not believe this story, but they were too happy to have their large friend back to call him out on it. They spent the rest of the afternoon puttering in Hagrid’s garden and enjoying his tales of his adventures in the Ural Mountains.

)O-O(

Minerva McGonagall was just freshening up in the female teacher’s lounge, reapplying a sticking charm to some wayward bits of flyaway hair that just refused to stay in her neat bun when a crash of crockery and a strangled scream nearly made her shear her head with her wand as her spell overcharged in her shock.

“What in Merlin’s name was that!” she questioned the mirror.

“No idea, deary, but Madam Umbridge’s room shares a wall with this lounge,” it suggested.

“Does it really?” Minerva smirked. She barely had time to school her features when an irate and dishevelled Dolores Umbridge hurried into the lounge, red-faced and breathing hard.

“Oh, Minerva, good. You’re here,” she sounded relieved as she spotted the Deputy Headmistress.

“How astute, Dolores,” Minerva catted back. “Dolores! Unhand me at once!” she protested as the harried woman grabbed onto her elbow, dragging her through the door.

“My rooms – you must see my rooms! Someone has been in there..., done something!” She continued dragging Minerva through the door and over one more to the portrait entrance to her rooms, which was hanging wide open.

“Dolores, how many times do I have to keep telling you to seal your portrait when you leave? You are just asking for trouble leaving it ajar like this!” the older woman scolded in condescending tones.

“It was closed, all day! I left it open just now – not earlier. That’s not the point!” she complained exasperatedly, stomping a foot in temper. “This is!” She threw open the portrait door further to display... Mayhem.

An overturned slop jar, still dripping slugs, that clearly had started out poised above the door, was rolling on the floor at their feet – a smear of slugs, who were slowly inching their way across the floor to darker, danker areas of the room, still fresh on the polished oak floorboards. Each previously pink wall sported a new colour of the rainbow, her quill pens were stuck nib first into a hitherto unknown dartboard that sported an unflattering picture of Dolores on Hagrid’s lap. Dead centre.

Her infamous mewling kitten plates were unnaturally silent, all of the kittens frozen in place, wide-eyed and mid-mew, their sharp teeth looking particularly vicious. In her bedchamber, just through the opposite door, could be seen rough woollen blankets on top of what appeared to be even rougher woven sheets, almost burlap in texture. Snuffling noises could be heard from the other room and soon a tinkling sound of precious metals hitting the floor was heard and Madam Umbridge began steaming under her collar – literally. Minerva took her time replying as what she originally wanted to say was entirely un-politic.

“Dolores, calm down, it’s probably just a Niffler – most likely someone’s idea of a joke. This mess can be fixed in a jiffy. Dobby!” she called out to the thin air and Umbridge nearly jumped a foot when the strangest house-elf she’d ever laid eyes on popped into existence right in front of her. Today, Dobby was dressed in two different colour socks – one with snitches chasing around the cuff, the other with cute baby dragons snorting smoke, a tea cosy on his head situated so that the points of his ears poked through the holes, and a handmade Jumper that hung to his knees that McGonagall would have sworn came from Molly’s knitting needles. His eyes were wide as he took in the enraged politician and the smirking Headmistress.

“Headmistress Kitty needs Dobby’s help?” he asked politely, while ignoring Umbridge.

“Minerva – you allow your servants to dress like – like this? And speak to you in such a manner?” Dolores ranted.

“Madam, control yourself; Dobby is a free elf and works for pay. How he dresses is up to him. Our free elves are not required to wear a uniform – only those that are bonded to the castle.”

“What a disgrace!” Umbridge spat, continuing to mutter under her breath.

Minerva ignored her as she turned to face the House-elf. “Dobby, I believe there is a Niffler in Madam’s bedroom – and could you clean up, as best as possible in here?”

Dobby looked around at the devastation. “Dobby thinks it looks better this way but if yous wants it back to normal – “ he clicked his fingers thrice and each time an area was restored to it’s former pink paradise.  A final snap brought the madly digging rodent soaring through the air past Umbridge’s nose, causing her to step back with a squeal, and landing in Dobby’s arms.

“Thank you, Dobby. Good job – I’ll take this little guy, then,” she said, dismissing the elf and cradling the creature who was finding a brooch holding the front edges of her collar closed, fascinating. A flick of her wand restored the kittens to their former mewling state. “Now, let me fix you a cup of tea,” another flick and the teapot began emitting a fragrant steam. She dropped the Niffler into one of her robe pockets and busied herself at the tea tray on the sideboard, eventually floating a cuppa to the other woman. Sipping from a bracing cup herself, she sighed in satisfaction looking around at the completed office.

“If that is all, Dolores, I’ll be putting this lad in the forest,” she said, patting her robes and placing the cup and saucer on the sideboard.

“Forest? Forest! It was that half-giant Oaf who did this!” she declared, coming out of her previous stupor.

“Hagrid?” Minerva scoffed. “Really, that is reaching, Dolores. Why would Hagrid want to do this?”

“Because I was going to fire him, that is why!” Umbridge blurted out.

“Well, really, Dolores that is going too far. He hasn’t even been back a week!” the Headmistress protested.

Umbridge leaped on that statement immediately. “And where has he been? Told me he was ‘getting fresh air’! He’s a games-keeper; he’s in the fresh air every day! No, No!” she protested, clicking across her floor. “I will have order! He’s been shirking his duties to his students! Besides – Professor!” she scoffed. “Hah! He never finished school, didn’t even take his OWLs – how can he qualify for being a professor. No, things are too lax around here, Minerva; it is time to restore Hogwarts to its former glory.”

Minerva shook her head, mindful of the pocket full of inquisitive sharp nose she had in her possession. “Well, I wish you luck with that – I’m off,” she stated sarcastically.

“Why, thank you, Minerva!” The woman visibly preened.  Apparently Umbridge did not appreciate the art of the catty comment, as she sounded quite sincere in her acceptance. McGonagall sighed and left the office – heading out towards the grounds where she could loose the Niffler safely.

)O-O(

The snickering was following her again. Every group of students she passed would end up whispering to each other and laughing behind their hands. When she turned to glare at them, they would scamper off. Something was off. She checked her heels; the seam in her hose wasn’t crooked, her skirt was turned correctly, her robes were on right side out; what was the matter with these hellish children?

Her scream, as she walked past a mirror, was the stuff of legends. It was heard as far away as the owlery, causing the sleeping owls to all bolt from their ledges and take off for quieter trees in the forest.

)O-O(

Flitwick passed the mead bottle over to Pomona Sprout as he chuckled into his own glass as the house heads and Pomfrey passed a Friday evening at The Three Broomsticks. “Minerva, where did you get that potion? Never mind... I know where!” he laughed, his merry eyes meeting Severus’ black pools. Every time he thought of Umbridge sporting the face of a Calico cat... he lost the plot.

Severus looked askance, and perfectly innocent, as he enjoyed his own refill of Rosmerta’s marvellous brew. “I have absolutely no idea what you are hinting at, Filius. Me? Supply Minerva with a prank potion? Obviously you have me mixed up with my two ginger-haired apprentices.”

“Oh, but of course!” Filius agreed, still giggling.

“Although, I have to admit your invisible Kitten brigade was a brilliant touch,” Severus complimented, nodding in the charms master’s direction. All day long invisible kittens – only visible to Umbridge and the Ghosts of the castle – followed the Ministry Official around, entwining around her legs, mewling constantly, chasing each other’s tails, causing havoc around the woman.

She had woken up to the Female Ghosts of the castle in her bedchamber cooing over the kittens on her floor. When she had eventually managed to step into her office, she realized where the kittens had come from – her decorative plates were empty. She had no idea how to cancel the charm and when she entreated Filius and the Headmaster, they both looked at her as if she was bonkers; neither claimed that they could see or hear the meowing felines.

“At this rate, she may leave of her own accord! With any luck at all...” Poppy snorted.

“Good riddance if she does,” Minerva agreed. “But that does not negate what she did to our students, nor will it absolve her of facing the board for her crimes,” she darkly pronounced.

They all nodded their agreement on that pronouncement.

“So what is in store for the weekend?” Poppy asked.

“It’s a secret,” Filius declared. “The twins and Sirius Black have been working on two very special projects. One will be revealed tomorrow morning, the other at the Hallowe’en feast Sunday evening. Both are brilliant pieces of work – definitely NEWT level in several disciplines,” he pronounced proudly.
“If it doesn’t get them expelled first,” he mumbled at the end. He shared a look with Severus and they both smirked in tandem causing Minerva to snort in amusement.

Severus cleared his throat of the thick drink and tapped Minerva on the knee. “You better keep an eye on Dean Thomas – he seriously pissed off my sons.”

“What did he do now?” she sighed in resignation.

“You haven’t heard? He two-timed with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. Draco’s first real friend in Ravenclaw was Miss Lovegood and he fiercely protects her as a sister. Apparently he had warned Thomas not to break her heart, and the boy did so anyway.”

“On his own head be it, then,” she declared. “But I won’t tolerate any pranks that cause permanent injury; you may tell them that for me.”

“Consider it done.”

)O-O(

“What’s that smell?” Ron asked, wrinkling his nose the next morning as they descended the myriad of stairs down to breakfast.

“It smells like...” Hermione searched for the right word.

“What Dagobah would smell like if Star Wars had smell-o-vision,” Harry commented, clapping a hand over his own mouth and nose. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him – impressed that he knew such a cultural reference, given his previous upbringing.

Harry saw the look and defended himself. “Hey, Dudley had all the movies on VHS – I snuck them out of his room one night when the family was at one of Uncle Vernon’s dinners,” he explained. Ron just looked baffled as his eyes bounced between his two friends.  

“All three?” Hermione questioned.

“Awards dinner,” he clarified. It was one of the best nights he could ever remember having at his relatives. He had snuck the videos out of Dudley’s room as soon as Vernon had left the driveway – having jimmied the lock on his bedroom – and pilfered some snacks from Dudley’s hidden stash under his bed and settled in for the night. He bet he had a better time that night than they did.

As they got closer to the first floor, the scrum of students grumbling in front of them got louder and the stink in the air was definitely more potent as was the humidity. In fact, as they stood there, Hermione’s hair was bushing out further and further as it kinked up in the moist, foetid air.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked, craning his neck. He was the tallest of the three and used his advantage to see over the heads of the students below them. What he saw caused a burst of brotherly pride, and he grinned from ear to ear before bursting out in laughter.

“Oh, they are so getting a howler from Mum, but that is brilliant! Disgusting, but brilliant!” he chortled.

“What?” Harry prodded his friend.

“The twins have turned the entrance hall into a swamp, complete with Alligators, Mangrove trees and stagnant swamp water. I just saw Hagrid floating in the firstie boats so that they could use them to get across the hall. He and Filch are starting to ferry kids across to the Great Hall. Watch out – here comes Umbridge with Dumbledore!”

They could hear her screeching voice as it carried across the open expanse of the entrance hall, cutting across Hagrid’s booming instructions of, “Only four to a boat!”

“Dumbledore, do something! We can’t have a swamp in the school!” she complained, batting away unhelpfully at a swarm of midges that had gathered in a stinging cloud around her.

“It’s Saturday, madam; the Saturday before Hallowe’en, I might add. I find this well within the spirit of the season – why, notice the jack-o-lanterns in the trees and the bats flying around. Fine attention to detail,” he pointed out proudly. Spotting the trio across the hall, he winked at them. “Besides, Filius already tried to cancel the charms – he says it didn’t work. May take him the rest of the weekend to figure it out.”

Harry frowned; he was still upset with the Headmaster. What was the man playing at? He tugged at Hermione’s jumper to grab her attention. “Did you just see that? Do you think he knows what happened? Do you think he is turning a blind eye to the pranks?”

She took her time before answering, but finally declared, “Yes, yes and yes.”

“So do I,” he agreed grimly as they slowly made their way down the stairs to the impromptu dock. “C’mon, it’s our turn.”

The three stepped into the next boat in line, a tiny Hufflepuff first year joining them. She spent the whole trip staring at the three infamous Gryffindors as the boat glided across the thick, smelly water, eyes wide in awe as they kept pinpointing the tip of Harry’s scar that poked out from underneath his fringe. He tried to ignore her, but it was difficult. Silecia poked her head out from under Harry’s sleeve as the snakes in the trees hissed their greetings to her and Harry, causing the little girl to squeak in fright. Hermione took pity on her and attempted to calm her down, but the child bolted from the boat as soon as they reached the landing in front of the doors – nearly upsetting the row-boat and dumping the Lions into the water.

Draco was laughing from the “beach-head” where he had waited for his brother and girlfriend to land. “Merlin, Harry, what did you do?” he offered his hand to Hermione first, giving her a quick peck while the two boys just hopped out, groaning as they landed ankle-deep in mud. “Should’ve waited,” he advised.

“Absolutely nothing, it was Silecia – she was only saying hello to the snakes in the trees,” Harry said defensively. “Isn’t this brilliant? Hey, is Dad in there yet?” he nodded toward the Great Hall while wandlessly cleaning his shoes and jeans, sending off a second set of cleaning spells at Ron.

“About five minutes ago, he took one look and disappeared through the doors. Why?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out why – Hermione, fill in Ron, would you? And save me some toast?” Nodding yes, she steered Ron through the doors and over to the Gryffindor table while the brothers walked to the Head Table where Professors McGonagall, Snape and Weasley were already deep into their morning caffeine habits.

“Professors, may I have word?” Harry asked solicitously, standing in front of their section of the table on the dais.

“What is it, Harry?” Snape enquired, raising his eyes from his morning Prophet.

“In the entrance hall just now the Headmaster winked at me and my friends. He wasn’t being helpful at all to Umbridge.”

“Madam Umbridge, Potter-Snape,” McGonagall automatically corrected under her breath. Harry glared at her.

“Only when she earns it,” he snapped back, but quietly. Bill snorted in his tea and Minerva studied Harry for a moment, taking in the raised eyebrow he quirked at her before pursing her lips and burying her nose back in her morning reading. Taking that as an acknowledgment that she grudgingly agreed, he looked back at his father.

“I believe the Headmaster is coming to understand what he has let into the castle,” Severus stated.

“Harry thinks he knows about the Quill,” Draco interjected. Severus nodded, his long hair swinging past his cheekbones.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He does have his own sources of information and once the children spread the rumours, the portraits were bound to spread the word as well.” He settled back in his chair sipping at his large mug of steaming java. “I believe he is also aware of who is responsible for the pranks and is letting them proceed unabated.”

“Should they stop?” Harry asked, quite worried.

“Goodness, no!” Minerva pounced. “They are driving her batty, and it’s letting the students let off some steam. Besides, I’m told something special is happening tomorrow night and I can’t wait!” She practically purred into her tea in excitement.

“Now, off to breakfast with you two, before she gets in here,” she advised, shooing them away from the table.

The boys shrugged and headed back to the table where their friends were waiting, already loaded plates at their seats.

“So, are you two taking off again this year?” Hermione asked quietly. Harry nodded his head. He was actually looking forward to visiting his parent’s gravesite again. He wanted to feel his mum’s spell seeping through the earth and hugging him in warmth.

“We’re heading out this afternoon. We’ll be back tomorrow before the feast,” he said.

“Oh, you have to be back in time for the feast!” George intimated.

“Absolutely! Can’t miss the fun we have planned!” Fred interjected.

Hermione sighed in resignation. “Do I want to know?”

“No!” they said together grinning maniacally, each clapping a hand on her shoulder and rising from the table. “You should definitely leave it as a surprise.”

“There they are! I know it was them!” came a screech from the doorway. Umbridge and Dumbledore had made it across the swamp and were now entering the Great Hall. Dumbledore appeared pristine, but Madam had obviously wrong-footed it out of the boat and was still dripping mud off the edges of her pink day-robes, shoes squelching as she walked next to him. 

Dumbledore sighed and summoned the twins over. “Did you two create the swamp in the entrance hall?”

The twins looked at each other as if weighing their answer before jointly stating, “No.”

“Well, Dolores, they didn’t create it – I’m afraid it will remain a mystery for now and we will have to give Filius and Bill some more time to break the enchantments on it. Marvellous bit of charm work, I must say, definitely NEWT level work...” he commented, leading the dishevelled administrator up the central aisle to the head table. The twins took the hint and hoofed it out of the hall after sketching quick salutes to the rest of the room.

They passed Ginny and Dean as they were coming in and took hold of their sister by the elbows, dragging her back out with them. Dean, mouth open in shock at having his girlfriend bodily removed from his side, slouched over to the table and spotting Draco’s glare, sat far away from the other fifth-years.

“What do you think they are saying?” Hermione asked, looking worriedly at the doors that hid the three Weasley siblings.

“Reading her the riot act,” Ron commented. “I’d have joined in, but she listens to them more. And – there goes Bill,” he pointed out, spotting his eldest brother circumnavigating the room, heading for the door. He slipped out and Ron looked as if he really wanted to go out as well, but Harry put a hand on his friends shoulder.

“Stay; she’ll need one brother she can run to later,” he pointed out.

“But I don’t like what she did either!” Ron protested.

“I didn’t say you had to like it, I just said she would need a brother she can turn to after they are done. She won’t want to talk to those three later, but you can at least be a somewhat sympathetic ear.”

Ron played with his food for a moment, sneaking looks at the door every so often. “I guess,” he finally agreed. “Can I at least do something to Dean?” he pleaded.

“Be my guest, Weasley,” Draco said. “We even have some ideas up our sleeves. Care to join us? You can even carry some of them out while we’re gone – that way he’ll never know who to blame.”

Ron visibly brightened at that. “Count me in!”

Hermione just huffed into the book she had propped behind her plate. Boys.

Narcissa Malfoy née Black descended from her carriage at the front entrance of Hogwarts, accepting the hand of Sedby Stevens to help her down. Dressed all in black, with her white-gold tresses bound up in a coronet of braids under a black hat with veil, as befitted her position as the Malfoy Dowager, she joined the small group of School Governors as they awaited the last of their members to join them. Even though her position on the board was hereditary due to her husband’s demise, she wielded great power on her own; today’s emergency session being a case in point.

The last of the Thestral-drawn carriages deposited their distinguished cargo at the steps to the school and with a nod of her head and a gathering motion of her hands, she sent her eleven colleagues before her to the board room on the second floor.

A jovial, yet obviously harried, Dumbledore met them at the doors, a question in his eyes. “Gentlemen, Ladies – this is an unexpected surprise! I thought the quarterly Governors meeting wasn’t until next week?”

“Emergency session, Dumbledore,” Basil Tippet grumbled. “Have been getting some odd reports – have to check them out, you know.” He patted the Headmaster on the shoulder as he passed by.

“Odd reports, you say? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll grant you, the children have been a bit high-spirited lately –“ he spluttered as the Governors filed past him, entering the school and stopping dead inside the front door. Narcissa, having been warned earlier that morning, was hard put to keep her composure as the School Board took in the wonder that was the Weasley Swamp. Flitwick had managed to cast a large bubble shield that kept the miasma contained to just that area, but the sounds and sights were still on full display. Hagrid waved cheerily at the group of stunned adults as he punted a group of children across the bayou, rapping a snapping alligator smartly on the nose with his pole when it came too close to the boat.

Meliflua Vindictus rapped her cane on the floor insistently. “Headmaster, what is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

“Just some Hallowe’en fun by some students, Madam. Absolutely harmless, I assure you,” he hastened to add as he hurried past the group to show them the driest path to the staircase that had just swung down for their convenience.

Using her cane to gently push some snakes off the path, Meliflua grumbled darkly to Narcissa as they ascended the staircase, “I see what you mean.”

Dumbledore tried to reassure the Governors as he led them to the board room that the swamp was only temporary; Professor Flitwick was working on a solution at that very minute. He unsealed the doors and after letting the Governors file past him, called some House-elves to bring refreshments for their honoured guests.

Unpinning her hat and veil, setting them aside on the table and fastidiously removing her black lace gloves, Narcissa addressed the hovering Headmaster. “We shall be calling several faculty members and students, Headmaster – please do not allow anyone to leave the grounds until we are finished with our investigation or with the called witnesses themselves – each will only have to speak with us once. I’m sure you understand. If you could please let the Snapes know that we will be ready for them in ten minutes? Thank you.”

Clearly dismissed, Dumbledore left the chambers as a trio of House-elves decked out in Hogwarts’ livery, popped in with a steaming tea service and plates of sandwiches and biscuits. As he closed the doors and turned he was shocked to find the Snapes, the other three heads of house, Poppy Pomfrey and a score of students ranged behind them, all apparently having received a summons to appear before the board.

“Severus, Minerva,” he acknowledged. “Do you know what is going on?”

“I’m afraid we are not allowed to say, Headmaster,” Snape stated, deceptively mild. “I was getting ready to take the boys home for the weekend when we received the board summons. I was assuming you knew why we were all called.” His eyebrow quirked up in a questioning glance.

“I have no idea. Most likely the pranks? I tried to assure them it was all in good fun,” his eyes twinkled as they caught the Weasley twins standing at the rear of the group of students.

“Yes, Headmaster, I’m sure that is all it is. In any case, we shall await the Board’s pleasure, here.” He stood ramrod straight, sighting down his nose at the shorter man.

“Yes, yes of course. Well, I guess I shall attempt to shrink that fine swamp below,” he declared, turning and heading down the stairs.

Severus watched his employer depart, waiting until the man was out of sight. “Merlin save me from hexing that man,” he grumbled to McGonagall.

“You an’ me both, laddie,” she agreed. They both turned as the door to the chamber opened and Basil Tippet appeared.

“Professor Snape? We are ready for you and your sons now.”

Placing a hand on their backs he guided his boys into the Board room arranging themselves to stand patiently at the end of the long polished table. Delicate white china cups with fragrant tea were placed in neat rows running down either side of the table, each corresponding to one of the twelve Governors. Harry and Draco stood proudly beside him, eyes forward, although he could detect Harry’s nervousness twanging along the bond. He let his magic reach out and stroke his son’s core and felt the child relax marginally as the boy took a deep breath and settled into his stance.

Meliflua Vindictus, sitting at the head of the table, was a formidable woman – well into her eleventh decade and still going strong. She’d headed the Board of Governors for nearly fifty years, ruling fairly – as much as was possible – when the situations arose. She rapped her gavel to bring order to the attendees and soon the only sound heard was the clinking of china.

“Professor Snape, you may begin. I believe you have a case of Dark Magic artefacts being used on students?”

“Yes, Madam, I do. As my missive indicated, the Headmaster let the Ministry place Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge here as an Observer, ostensibly to evaluate the school’s compliance with the Ministry’s educational decrees.” A rustle of stiff fabrics followed this statement as embarrassed Governors shifted in their seats. The educational decrees were a sore point between them and the current administration of the Ministry – they felt they were an imposition from a government that had no business dictating to a private institution how they taught their students.

“In the last eight weeks she has instituted several changes including creating an ‘Inquisitorial Squad’ of students that was created solely to institute her interpretation of those original decrees as well as several more that she has already forced through the governing channels at the Ministry, bypassing this August panel.” A flick of his wand and rolls of parchment appeared in front of each Governor outlining all the changes she’d added to the decrees. Grumbling could be heard as the rolls were opened and perused. “In addition, this squad has not only the same privileges as Prefects in taking points, but can also assign detentions – going above and beyond prefecture. All of these detentions were served with Madam Umbridge. When questioned initially, each of these students would only say they had been assigned lines.”

“Excuse me, Professor Snape, but I see no problem with this?” intimated a stern, dark-haired witch seated mid-way along the right-hand side of the table.

Severus smirked, not kindly, at the Board member. “Ah, yes, you would think so, Madam Rabnott. But you see none of the students chosen for this squad qualify for prefecture – why they were passed over originally – and as for giving them more responsibility than Prefects, this undermines the entire system. However, where the main problem lies right now is in how the students were required to perform these lines and who was targeted.”

“And I’m sure you will be telling us?” hinted Russel Urquhart, a half-blood solicitor who was comfortable working in both worlds, having earned his degrees in both the Muggle and Wizarding legal systems. A recent find of Dumbledore’s, he’d been on the Board for nearly ten years.

“With the unrest occurring outside these hallowed walls, it was the determination of staff and parents that those students who showed an aptitude for defence be allowed to further their studies on an independent basis with adequate supervision by qualified staff. Professor Weasley, our DADA professor this year, and myself have been leading this study group and the only students who were targeted by Madam Umbridge for her particular brand of detention came from these participants.” Scowls graced several members’ faces at this announcement.

“Why would she do this?” A tiny woman asked. When she had sat down, she’d raised her chair so that she could see properly over the table. Her tea had been served in a demitasse cup, much easier for her tiny hands to handle. Her small size belied her magical strength, however. Like Flitwick, she was a famous dueller who had been undefeated upon her retirement from the circuit. Severus nodded in her direction.

“Why indeed, Madam Quigg. We feel that she is under Orders from the Ministry at least to undermine the children’s’ defence education, refusing to acknowledge the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Anyone who intimates that he has returned is branded a liar. Literally.” His ominous tone filled the room and stilled the governors. A pin could have been heard dropping.

“Literally?” she finally asked sternly.

“Yes. Harry?” Severus motioned his son forward to stand before him. “My son, Harry, along with several of his classmates – fifteen in all – had been assigned detentions with Madam Umbridge. A checking of the detention logs revealed that Harry had spent the most time doing lines for her, for the only reason that he refused to back down in his belief and knowledge that the Dark Lord had regained a body and was operating at full capacity again, as well as his belief that he and his friends needed to be ready to handle anything that tried to attack them, having already been targeted many times by Death Eaters and sympathizers. The Dark Artefact comes into play with how these lines were performed. You may unwrap your hand, Harry.”

Even before the wraps came off and the words revealed to the Governors, several had already guessed the true identity of the object. Seeing confirmation on the back of their purported saviour’s hand just sealed it for them.

Perpetua Quiqq floated down off her chair and came over to take a closer look at the back of the hand, her pince-nez frames held close to her aged eyes as she peered at the scars, turning the hand over and running a gentle, arthritic finger over the raised edges.

“How long, boy, were you forced to do this?” she asked quietly.

“Two weeks, Ma’am,” he answered.

“Why wait so long to let people know?” she enquired, walking back to her chair and floating back into it. Harry looked up at his father, blushing.

Severus didn’t believe in coddling too much. He felt that facing your fears helped you grow, so he only said, “Answer her, son.”

Harry cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. “I felt it was a personal fight between us. She worked on my insecurities the entire time I was in her office – made me feel as if I deserved the punishment.” He gained confidence as he spoke, straightening up as he faced the Board. “Growing up, I didn’t place any trust in adults – none had proven to me that they could be worthy of that trust, until Dad rescued me and we discovered our relationship.” A strong hand on his shoulder bolstered him further and he relished its support. “So, you can understand that it is still hard for me to come to someone with something like this when it is an adult that is torturing you. I do have a lot of insecurities that are rooted in that time of my life and situations like this bring them to the fore so that it is hard for me to acknowledge I need to get help. If it hadn’t been for my brother and our friend, Hermione Granger, I’d probably still be suffering in silence.” He gave a weak smile to the diminutive Governor. “Or more likely in the Hospital wing by now as it had already gotten infected.”

Perpetua snorted delicately at that and pointed a black gloved finger at him. “You are damn lucky, Mr Potter-Snape, damn lucky.” He bobbed his head in acquiescence.

Basil Tippet cleared his throat at that point, gaining everyone’s attention. “So we have sixteen students who have been tortured with a Dark Artefact, a Ministry official who is over-reaching her authority, and where was our Headmaster while this was happening?”

Narcissa’s eyes gleamed predatorily. “Where indeed, Basil? Now we get to the main question as to the reason for this Emergency Session. We know that Madam Umbridge was requested for by Dumbledore himself. We have Pensieve evidence, if needed, of his participation in making sure Mr Potter-Snape was entered into the Tourney last term – against the stated rules, I might add. He has allowed several mediocre and outright dangerous teachers to fill the DADA position – one of which had the Dark Lord riding him as a soul-leech. He has turned a blind eye to all of Madam Umbridge’s decrees and the inquisitorial squad, as well as allowing her to conduct detentions with a Dark Artefact, much less oversee detentions at all. She is not an academician; she should have no authority in this school or dictate how it should be operated. That authority rests with us, which we then delegate to the Headmaster. I feel his ability to make adequate decisions for this institution has been severely compromised by his numerous responsibilities outside of the school and his traumatic incarceration in the seven-chamber trunk for most of last year. Things need to change, gentlemen and ladies. I believe we have several more witnesses to hear this afternoon, shall we take a break so Professor Snape and his children can take their leave?” she proposed.

The group murmured their agreement and the Snapes took their cue to leave, Narcissa walking them to the chamber door. Letting the boys precede Severus through the doorway, she dropped her hand on Severus’ arm, stalling him a moment.

“I should be home by six; I’ll let you know what the decisions are then,” she whispered. He nodded slightly in agreement and with a small smile in her direction, followed his sons through the door. As he walked down the stairway he heard her call for Granger and the Weasleys.

)O-O(

Harry heaved a sigh as he sank into the deep tub full of suds and hot water. He and his brother had spent what had been left of the afternoon racing on their brooms around the Prince Property, burning off some much needed energy. Prior to arriving at the Manor, the family had travelled back to Godric’s Hollow and the small churchyard where Harry’s mother and step-father were buried. The warm-hug spell on their graves was still active and Harry took the time to commune with their spirits while Severus and Draco kept silent watch. Before they left, Severus had conjured a wreath between their graves and Harry left, at peace.

Now Harry was attempting to let the hot water and bubbles wash away what had been, even for him, a bad two months. Unconsciously, he rubbed the back of his hand; his fingers ghosting and tracing over the now permanent scars. When he finally realized what he was doing, he snorted to himself and grabbed a flannel, attacking his skin and revelling in the feel of washing everything away. When the water began cooling, he pulled the stopper from the drain with his toes and, pulling the curtain closed, ran the water again – this time as a shower, unplaiting his queue and washing his hair with vigour.  He let the water pound on his back, massaging muscles he didn’t even know were stiff. When he was finally finished, he slung the thirsty terry-cloth around his hips and decided he needed a shave after gazing at his reflection in the steamed up mirror.

Twenty minutes later found him dressed for dinner, hair neatly plaited again and dry and in a decidedly better mood. He paced the hallways from the family wing, down the main stairs to the foyer and trekked past the library and music room to the main dining room. To his surprise he discovered that not only had Narcissa and Cassie joined them, but Whitney was there as well.

He should have expected it. His father’s raised eyebrow at his defeated sigh indicated that as well. He plastered a smile on his face and went to greet their guests. He truly was glad that Narcissa and Cassie were there; he especially wanted to hear about what happened after they left the castle. Whitney – he liked his therapist, really he did. He just didn’t feel as if he needed his help. His father apparently did.

He picked up his little sister and gave her a quick hug before releasing her again, kissed Narcissa’s cheek and turned to shake Whitney’s hand, submitting himself to the balding man’s laser eyes. Whitney reached over to take Harry’s left hand, inspecting the marks for a moment before letting Harry take it back.

“We’re talking after dinner, Harry,” he pronounced. “Just you and me – and perhaps with your father afterwards.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry agreed, with a deep sigh. He felt his father come up behind him and lay his hands on his shoulders.

“You need the help Whitney offers, son. It will help.”

“Yes, sir. But let’s eat first? I’m starving!” The growl from his stomach punctuated his statement, making everyone laugh. Cassie looked up at him with wide, grey eyes.

“Hawwy, there’s a lion in your tummy!”

“And he’s hungry enough to eat a little girl!” he said with a grin, bending down to chase her to her seat, the little girl squealing in mock terror. Draco caught her, spinning her in the air before depositing her in her raised seat and sitting down next to her. Everyone took their cues and found their seats, Narcissa between Cassie and Severus and Harry on Severus’ other side in the heir’s seat with Whitney next to him.

Runeskin and his staff brought in the meal and the family began their repast. Over the pudding course, Severus finally asked the question that everyone had been waiting on, “So, my dear, how did your meeting go today?”

Dabbing the corners of her mouth with her serviette, Narcissa let the corners of her mouth flow up in anticipation. “Umbridge, of course will be leaving – she will get her official walking papers tomorrow. Dumbledore is being given a choice: he may continue as Headmaster if he restricts his other extra-curricular activities, or he may choose to devote himself fulltime to politics and leave the running of the school in McGonagall’s efficient hands without any censure on his part, just a well-earned retirement with acknowledgement of a job well-done. If he goes gracefully. I honestly, at this point, don’t care which he chooses. But, if he decides to keep the school, it will be with several stricter rules in place.”

“I agree,” Severus concurred. “I’m beginning to regret my decision to let you boys go back this year, but I do think that without us being there the students would be at even more danger.”

Harry worried at his lip a bit before he looked over at his father. “Are you sure, Dad? Because it is starting to look to me as if I’m bringing more danger to them just by being there!”

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed from his seat next to Cassie.

“No, hear me out! All last year – blimey, every year – anytime there has been danger at the school, it was more than likely aimed at me! He wants me dead and will use any means to get to me; Dumbledore wants to use me as a sacrificial lamb – testing me constantly to see if I measure up to his ideal of a saviour and it puts everyone I love and care about at risk!” By this point he’d pushed his chair back from the table and had begun pacing back and forth behind his father’s seat as he thought out loud.

Sensing a blow-up was due, Narcissa called one of the nurse-maid elves to take Cassie up to the nursery.

Severus was calm as he carefully folded his serviette and placed it next to his place-setting. “Do you want to leave the school? Go to a different institution or be home-schooled?”

Harry sighed deeply, the gale strong enough to lift his fringe up. “Does it matter at this point? You are all damned just by being related to me, my friends are branded as targets just because I’m friendly with them – I can’t see that going it alone would change any of that at this point, do you? He’d still come after everyone just to draw me out of hiding – and it would definitely work.”

“Therefore...” Severus prompted.

Harry slumped back into his seat, and leaned on the edge of the table, resting his head in his hands. “Therefore, I might as well stay and get as much training as I can,” he said resignedly.

Whitney reached over and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Well done, Harry. I’m proud of you for not letting your anger take control. You let your head guide your heart. Progress, my boy.”

Harry let a smirk grace his lips as he gazed at his counsellor. “I learnt from the best! How about some pudding before we head into the Library?”

“Marvellous suggestion!”