"Well, well, this is earlier than expected," a raspy voice said, from inside the sitting room with the high wing-backed chair. They'd apparated straight into the house, and Harry recognised the room instantly from his training episode. He felt a very slightly bit better, knowing that Snape had been there before. Snape had been to the room, the house, the town, knew the wards, and would know where to find Harry.

As he was pushed in front of Voldemort, Harry promised himself that he wouldn't care if Snape did decide to get rid of him after the war, so long as the man came through and saved him now.

"You never did go with the plan, did you, Potter?" Voldemort continued, shifting in the chair. Harry watched, with a rather disgusted look on his face.

"Not when the plan is to kill me, no," Harry answered. He winced internally; he was usually sarcastic when Uncle Vernon was yelling at him, but Harry hadn't expected to have the same reaction when he met the adult Voldemort. He tried to calm himself, and remember what Snape had told him to do when they'd practised the 'taken' training. Naturally, his mind went completely blank.

"Pity," Voldemort scoffed. "Your godfather fell right in line, twice."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Voldemort's triumphant sneer.

"What do you mean?"

"Convinced your dear old father to use Wormtail as his secret keeper, and then escaped last year after seeing Wormtail in the news," Voldemort explained, laughing with a high-pitched wheeze. "Everyone's been worried about Mad Sirius Black on the run, and no one's noticed us."

"Master, are you ready for the potion?" Pettigrew interrupted, wringing his hands. He didn't look nervous though, Harry thought, but rather chuffed that he'd been the one to catch Harry.

"Yes, Wormtail, I have been ready for years," Voldemort cuttingly said.

"You mean that no one has noticed you buying the potion ingredients," Harry guessed, pulling together his thoughts. He noticed that Voldemort's eyes had gone hard, which meant Harry was probably right. "Snape noticed. His ingredient seller noticed, and I'm sure Dumbledore noticed too."

"And yet," Voldemort bragged, "none of them were able to stop me. Rather pathetic of your mentors."

Harry scowled as he flexed his wrists, but the leather cord Pettigrew had magically lashed around him was quite strong. He couldn't remember Snape ever telling him how to get out of such bonds, but Harry could still walk, and Pettigrew hadn't remembered to take his wand, so Harry counted those as positives.

"I shall ready the cauldron, Master," Pettigrew said, pushing Harry toward a straight back wooden chair. Harry fell into it with a grunt, as Pettigrew continued to a slanted bookcase beside the fireplace. The shelf held a rather large box, and Harry had seen those types of boxes before, with the front clasp and sturdy sides. Snape had a bunch of them both at home and at school, filled with potion phials.

"Harry Potter, the last of his kind," Voldemort wheezed, his voice taunting as he fought to sit up in the chair. He was about the same size as a toddler, Harry thought, and his limbs were long and spindly, like a Grindylow's. "Scared and confused, just like you were that Hallowe'en night. All alone."

Voldemort had a nasty smile on his face, and Pettigrew was humming to himself as he clinked glass bottles together.

"But I'm not," Harry strongly objected. "I have friends, and I have a family, and it doesn't matter that they're not here. I'm not alone."

Just saying the words aloud made Harry feel better, and when he repeated them in his head, feeling Snape's heartbeat through his tattoo, Harry felt a small measure of confidence. Things weren't over yet, and Snape would get here soon. Snape had never passed up the chance to lecture Harry when Harry had done something wrong, and Harry had all but run away from school earlier. Snape would be here, Harry knew it.

"Your family?" Voldemort repeated, his laugh cold and rough sounding. "The only thing your family ever did was delay your death a little longer. Not very useful, is it, Potter? All of my family are dead, but you're about to see just how much better they are at keeping me alive. Wormtail!"

Harry struggled as he felt himself rising from the chair, under a levitation spell by Pettigrew. Harry cursed to himself, as he'd wanted to leave tracks in the dust with his feet so that Snape could follow him. Nothing to it now though, just hope that Snape would know where they went.

"Time for a nice stroll outside," Voldemort said, a twisted smile on his lizard-like face. "I'd hoped to do this at dusk, for the dramatic effect, but now that the guest of honour is here, there's no need to wait."

Harry watched with a sort of repulsed fascination as Voldemort, shrouded in rather old and dusty black material, floated along beside Harry. A thin talon of a finger reached out, and Harry flinched away, but Voldemort stopped just inches from his shoulder.

"Ah, not yet," Voldemort taunted.

Harry did manage to bump into the back garden door as they passed through, hard enough that it didn't swing shut behind them. The flotation toward the graveyard was rough, as Pettigrew didn't take any care to keep Harry steady as they passed along. Harry's eyes darted about, looking for any sign that Snape was there. He saw nothing though, and forced himself to think of Hobbits to calm down.

"Tie him to the grave," Voldemort ordered, as they approached the small clearing in the graveyard. Harry recognised it instantly, and his stomach churned as he was floated over the cauldron in the middle. The stone statue moved, and Harry only had time to yelp as the strong stone sceptre the statue held gripped him tightly against the grave.

"Go ahead and struggle, Potter," Voldemort sweetly said, hovering by the cauldron. "It won't do you any good. Just a few minutes and this will all be over."

Harry watched with growing panic, pressing repeatedly against his tattoo, as the ground beside him shifted. Out of the damp earth came a long bone, which looked sort of like it was a leg bone, but it was missing the knobby end at the knee, and it floated over to the cauldron. Voldemort crooked his finger, raising a potion phial from the box, and Pettigrew let out a happy half laugh as he added the potion and the bone into the cauldron together. A fire started under the cauldron with a snap of Pettigrew's fingers, and then they both turned to Harry.

"And now for your little donation," Pettigrew said, starting to walk toward Harry.

"I'd rather just spit in it, if it's all the same to you," Harry snapped, struggling against the unyielding stone.

"Oh, you've definitely been spending time around Severussss," Voldemort reflected, with cold amusement. "But he's not here to help you, is he? How sad."

"Dad!" Harry quietly pleaded, just as Pettigrew waved a small knife in his face. Pettigrew squeezed Harry's wrist hard enough to bruise, and slowly traced the edge of the knife along Harry's arm. Harry could see a manic glint to Pettigrew's eyes, and barely let himself breathe lest he flinch and get cut. There was a sudden booming crack to the north of them though, like a stray bolt of lightning, and Harry yelped as the knife flinched across his skin.

"Sloppy work, Wormtail," Voldemort fumed. Pettigrew had turned his attention to the sound, and nicked Harry's arm with an erratic cut. Pettigrew raised the knife again, but Voldemort snapped at him.

"It'll do; I want him conscious for a duel."

Harry ignored the tear rolling down his face as he watched Pettigrew smirk, holding the knife above the cauldron and dripping Harry's blood into it. He knew that Snape's potion would only work if Voldemort actually used it, which required Harry's blood. He'd known for a while that that was how it had to be, but Harry had always hoped that Snape would be there at the time, either watching under cover, or standing as a Death Eater, pretending. Now he was fighting off some serious panic that Snape wasn't coming at all.

"Why are you calling for your parents, Potter?" Voldemort snidely pondered, as he was floated above the cauldron. The robes fell away and Harry scrunched his face up at the repulsive sight. "They can't help you now."

Seconds before dropping Voldemort in, Harry saw Pettigrew's knife flash as it swung up and then down, taking Pettigrew's hand with it. The pained howl of Pettigrew intermixed with the high-pitched laugh of Voldemort as the little lizard-like body he had dropped into the cauldron. Harry, sensing that Pettigrew was more focused on his bloody stump than on the statue's spell, pushed with all his might against the stone sceptre. He managed to move it with a great shove, and slipped away behind the graves as Voldemort rose once more, as a man.

"Yessssss," Voldemort hissed, his voice rising with power. "I have returned!"

He laughed to himself, staring up at the falling dusk, and Harry crouched as well out of sight as he could get. The heartbeat in his tattoo had sped up a little, which gave Harry a bit of hope that Snape was near.

"Must we really play hide and seek, Harry Potter?" Voldemort scolded. Harry could hear him testing a few non-verbal spells with his wand, and winced as he heard a gravestone be ripped from the ground.

"He's not gone far, Master," Pettigrew wheezed out, his voice pained. "There are wards around..."

"Yes, I am aware," Voldemort cuttingly said, silencing his servant. "But then, Potter has avoided his fate for fourteen years, so why not ten minutes more. Any questions, while we're at it?" Voldemort called, his pleased voice clear and loud throughout the entire gated graveyard.

"Yeah," Harry suddenly said, breathing hard as he leaned against the gravestone. If he could keep Voldemort talking long enough, Snape could get there and Harry would have some help. He knew the prophecy named him as the one to defeat the Dark Lord, but it'd be nice to have back up. "Why would you risk it?"

"Risk?" Voldemort asked, his cold laugh giving Harry the chills. "You stupid boy. Did you ever think you had a chance? Other than by fluke?"

"No, but the prophecy," Harry said, the anxiety making his voice higher pitched than normal. "You've only got a fifty/fifty chance, why would you..."

Harry glanced around the stone in time to watch the smug smile slipping off Voldemort's face, replaced by one of confused anger.

"You don't know," Harry blurted, with a bit of a hysterical laughter. He conked his head back against the stone, but it didn't hurt. "You attacked my whole family, and you never knew the whole prophecy!" Harry yelled.

"I don't need to know," Voldemort roared, swirling his robes as he walked around the cauldron. Harry could hear his foot steps in the long grass, and scrambled to hide behind a different grave. "You are the only danger to me, Potter, and you won't be for much longer."

Harry shook his head; his body covered in cold nervous sweat, and his voice calmer than it was before as he coldly recited.

"The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

Voldemort, who was facing the cauldron, tipped his head forward and to the side. Harry was watching between the blades of a shrub, and saw that he had Voldemort's full attention.

"And do you want to know the new prophecy? The power?" Harry demanded, thinking that the stress had finally made him go mad. He was taunting Voldemort, of all people.

"The end is set before the beginning...in the time of the shortest night...when the one marked as the Dark Lord's equal meets the power of he with the greatest story never told..."

Harry let it all out in a deep breath, panting as he struggled to keep as still as possible. Pettigrew was standing to the side of the cauldron, clutching his arm and fearfully watching Voldemort. Harry glanced about the graveyard quickly, but of course Snape had missed the perfect entrance cue.

Voldemort turned to face the shrub Harry was in, his expression composed and covered with a dark smile.

"But here you are, all alone," Voldemort commented, holding up his wand with his claw-like fingers, inspecting it to see that it was as he remembered. "Hiding like a baby from the bogeyman."

"I am not alone," Harry growled.

"Yes, so you've said," Voldemort impatiently uttered, flicking his hand as if he cared not a whit what Harry had to say. "But I see no one here to help you, no one here at all except for Wormtail. And coward as he is, I don't think even he would cross me."

Wormtail shook his head profusely, flinching slightly in Voldemort's shadow. Voldemort snarled at him, as if Wormtail's pained whimpering was irritating, and in a flash of light cast a spell that grew a silver hand over the end of Wormtail's stump.

"Th..thank you sir," Pettigrew said, admiring his new hand with wide eyes. Voldemort completely ignored him.

"The end is set before the beginning, is it?" Voldemort repeated, chuckling and flexing the limbs of his new body. "Such a stupid trick of words! It means nothing, Potter. You've put your faith in nothing."

"It means," came a deep voice, speaking out from behind a dying box hedge. Harry noted that it was the exact same place Snape had stepped out of when he'd called time in the training exercise. "That your death happened before you even came back to life."

Snape cast a strong enough protection shield that both stunning spells sent his way didn't affect him, but he didn't move any closer to the centre of the graveyard.

"Obviously not, as I am still here," Voldemort smiled, clearly amused now that he had both Harry cornered and an audience to watch. "Or did you mean your little potion switch, Rosier?"

Snape raised his eyebrow, but didn't confirm anything.

"I knew Rosier had never been bright enough to learn to brew," Voldemort continued, walking slowly toward Snape. "I suspected you from the very start, and I was right. It was all in the potion."

"Yes," Snape conceded, his dark eyes flickering between Voldemort and the area where Harry was hiding. "But mostly in the bones."

"What?" Voldemort seethed, forgetting about Harry instantly.

Snape gestured back to the grave Harry had been bound to, to the inscription on the stones.

"Rather interesting how powerful wizards never remember to include house elves in wards," Snape explained, his voice carrying clearly over the graveyard.

"I changed them enough that you took too long getting here," Voldemort snarled. His wand emitted a small spark of light green, and Harry's eyes widened. Voldemort hated Harry, but it seemed like Snape was really getting under his skin.

"Did you?" Snape slyly asked in return. "You needed your father's genes to bring you back, but I'm afraid I've no idea how long a Basilisk's bone will sustain you."

Harry let out an involuntary snort as he saw the fury building on Voldemort's face. Basilisk DNA, and maybe venom too. Snape was a bloody genius. And it was obvious now that Harry thought about it, as Voldemort had no hair, no nose, and snake-like eyes.

"GraaaAAAAAHHH!" Voldemort howled, sending a ball of fire toward Snape. Harry flinched, but Snape seemed to have been expecting something like it, because he had his shields stronger than ever.

"You only think you've won," Voldemort warned, panting as if the giant arc of fire had cost him a great deal of energy. "Standing calm and collected, as you've always been. Except when you're angry, and the fury of Severus Snape is released. You made the perfect Death Eater in your youth, always so creative in your ways to prove yourself."

Snape stood impassively as Voldemort talked, but Harry could see that he was trying to work out what was going to happen next. If the Basilisk bones and poison would kill Voldemort very soon, there might not be a battle, which would of course be ideal. Harry wasn't sure how much the wards had changed, and as it had taken Snape twenty minutes to break through, any battle would be a direct two on two.

"And look at you now," Voldemort continued, his face twisted into a cragged grin, "not even a tremble as you and the Boy Who Lived come to your last moments. Not a flinch. You think you've won. But I won't be the one to die tonight."

Harry could feel Snape's heartbeat though, and knew Snape was worried. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to keep Snape on track, but he only got the word 'Dad' out before a bright green light slammed into the shrub and him, and took the world away.

.....

 

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was in a dim and yet very comfortable room. It was warm and quiet, and Harry sat at a small wooden booth, surrounded by blurry photos on the wall and carved names in the table in front of him. He looked to his left and saw a very familiar bar, but Tom wasn't standing behind it.

"You won't see anyone else here," a soft voice said, and Harry startled badly as a red-haired woman slipped into the booth with him.

"Mum?" Harry asked, his expression slack with shock. "And...Dad?"

His father deposited a tray on the table before sitting down, his smile just as wide as Lily's.

"You have done an amazing job, Harry," Lily said, taking a cup from the tray. Harry blinked rapidly, saying nothing and barely noticing the cup his father placed in front of him.

"I've noticed you like coffee now," James said, sipping from his own mug.

"But..." Harry started, looking around the Leaky Cauldron again. The recognition seemed to slam into him at once, but Harry had never before seen the place empty. "Oh no, I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Not quite," his Mum said, with a small laugh. "You could be, if you really wanted to. But I think you'll go back soon."

"I don't understand," Harry said, shaking his head. "I..."

The realisation of whom he was talking to surrounded him, his Mum and Dad, and Harry suddenly found it hard to swallow. "I've missed you so much."

"We know, Harry," James kindly said, reaching over to squeeze Harry's hand. For all the tales Harry had heard about his father, he saw nothing of the reckless boy that James had once been. Instead, the man across the table was patient and soft spoken; the attributes of a man who has had to watch by the side lines for many years. "And we're sorry."

"We've never left you, Harry," his Mum said, her voice soft and soothing. "Every day we were there, watching over you. And we still will, once you go back."

Harry gripped the coffee mug with his free hand, not wanting to taste the bitter liquid, but needing the heat. He was here, at the Leaky Cauldron, in some sort of half dead stated, where he could see his parents. He could finally talk to his parents, touch them, hug them, and not be stuck with some memory of the night they'd died, or looking wistfully at them through a mirror.

"But I don't want to go," Harry said, his voice rough, but not quite breaking.

"You needn't yet," James reassured, squeezing Harry's hand. "We have a few minutes still, and wouldn't you like to know how you survived? Or ask us questions about weird family habits?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harry sniffled, with a self-depreciating laugh. Of course he couldn't stay. He could feel a tear at the edge of his eyes, but he didn't care if his parents saw it as well.

"All the books talk about your mother, and how she gave her life to protect you," James said, and Harry felt another wave of sadness wash over him.

"I know the story," Harry grumbled.

"They never seem to remember that I did, too," James added. Lily gave him a knowing smile, before they both turned back to Harry. "And even Severus helped this time."

"You saw all the training?" Harry asked, looking between his parents to catch any signs of displeasure.

"We saw so much more," Lily replied, without elaborating.

"The training," James agreed, nodding. "Which you did very well at; you might want to consider being an Auror one day. But also the Basilisk bones, that was Severus. I gave my life to protect you, but he also managed to weaken Voldemort enough to diminish the Killing Curse."

"So I'm just unconscious then?" Harry asked, looking around the empty pub. This was all in his head?

"More like half dead," Lily said, smiling. "But yes. You're in between life and death, and that's how we're able to see you again."

"But this is it, isn't it?" Harry continued, swallowing around a lump in his throat. "I won't see you anymore once I leave."

"Not like this, son," James replied, with a kind laugh. "If you come this close to death again, I think you'll finally give old Snape a heart attack."

"He's not that old," Harry said, smiling even though tears were flooding his eyes. "And he's all right, when he's not trying to be big and scary. Sirius is having a bit more trouble with things, I think."

"Ah, Sirius," James repeated, a wistful look in his eyes. "If he stays with Remus, he'll be all right."

James leaned back in the seat, releasing Harry's hand and putting his arm across the back of Lily's shoulders.

"You've turned out well," James said, approvingly.

"Thanks," Harry said, inexplicably embarrassed. He supposed that as he'd never really received any praise growing up, he wasn't quite sure how to accept it. "Wait, what weird family habits?"

His parents laughed, and Harry felt a strong warmth in his stomach when he realised he had the same laugh as his father.

"You love the smell of vanilla?" James asked, a big grin on his face. "So does your mother."

"You get your knobby toes from your father," Lily returned, crossing her arms with a smile.

"We both like honey on chicken," James said, pondering aloud.

"What about reading?" Harry asked, looking between his parents. He finally took a sip of the coffee his father had served, and was temporarily distracted by how perfect it tasted.

"Well, your Dad never bothered to study much at school," Lily answered, with a fond smile. "But he loves to read when it isn't something required."

"As does your Mum," James added.

Harry beamed.

"So even though I didn't grow up with you, I still turned out like you."

"Well," James said, boasting a little. "Don't want to sound too proud...but yes."

He reached across the table and messed Harry's hair up. "But you're a lot braver than we'll ever be."

"I'm not sure about that," Harry said, a frown forming. The edges of the Leaky Cauldron around them were starting to lose their sharp appearance, and his parents seemed to notice as well.

"We have to go soon," Lily sighed, looking up at the grey clouds above them.

"But I won't see you ever again," Harry blurted, reaching across the table for their hands once more.

"Not until it's your time," James said, giving Harry's hand a squeeze.

"You'll see us in your dreams, Harry. And we'll be here waiting for you," Lily said, softly. "Go back, my little Hobbit. You have plenty of people who need you."

All three stood up, the booth vanishing in front of them as Harry kept a tight hold on his mother's hand.

"Muuum," Harry mock complained, trying to prolong the moment. "Am I not going to get any taller?"

"Only a little more," she said, smiling indulgently and wiping the tears from his cheeks. His father patted him on the back, and Harry gave him a slightly unsure look.

"You're really okay with him...stepping in? I do call him Dad," Harry admitted.

"I know you do," James replied. "It would bother me if I were alive of course, but I'm not, and I can't be there for you like I want to. He turned out a good man, Snape. A good man that went to war for you. I couldn't ask for a better stand in."

Harry nodded, moving closer to give his parents a good-bye hug. He was wrapped in very strong arms, and Harry could smell flowers from his Mum's hair, and feel the rough hands of his father keeping him close.

"Say hi to Sirius for us, and tell him his shoulders aren't big enough," James said, talking into Harry's hair. "He'll know what it means."

Harry nodded, not wanting to waste a second with his parents by asking what the cryptic message meant.

"How do I go back?" Harry asked, speaking into the shoulder of his Mum's dress.

"Just listen," she whispered. "Listen for him."

Harry shut his eyes, focusing so strongly on the feeling of the hug, that he didn't notice the frantic deep voice calling his name until it coincided with the drumbeat in his finger.

"John!"

Fingers were clenched around his arms, hard enough to bruise, and the silence of the Leaky Cauldron was slowly being invaded by the sound of birds chirping.

"Potter, I swear to god."

The muttering came from somewhere above Harry, close to him, and Harry wondered who could be that tall.

"John, wake up," said the voice again, and Harry opened his eyes. He wasn't standing though, like he'd thought, but sprawled on the ground and was being partially held against Snape's chest.

"Ow," Harry whispered, as the feeling in his body came rushing back and a stabbing pain echoed across his forehead.

"Hit with the Killing Curse and 'ow' is what you have to say?" Snape grumbled.

Harry became aware of a lot of shouting in the background, but couldn't lift his head up to look around.

"What were you expecting? ‘It's turned into a lovely evening?'" Harry asked, wincing.

"Very amusing," Snape dryly replied, though Harry thought he could hear a bit of panic in Snape's voice. The drumbeat in Harry's finger was strong enough to make it twitch on its own. "What is your full name?"

Snape was checking Harry's pupils with his wand light, and Harry fought the urge to tell him to piss off.

"That's a trick question. What happened?"

"You died, you idiot boy," Snape growled. Harry felt the arms around him tighten, and then he was lifted up off the ground. He remembered what his mother had said, ‘other people need you,' and realised she had meant Snape.

"Severus!"

"You can put me down," Harry said, blinking as he looked back at the graveyard. Several people wearing bright red robes were walking around, and Pettigrew was being bound with thick black chains. A group of guards were standing by a shrouded black figure, which was leaning against a headstone.

Snape put Harry down, and caught him again seconds later when Harry's knees buckled.

"Is he all right?" Dumbledore pressed, running up to them.

Harry nodded, leaning against Snape with Snape's arm across his chest to keep him from falling.

"Bit tired," Harry said, as if he'd just gone for a long run. Harry suspected his brain hadn't quite caught up with the fact that he'd been half-dead.

"And injured," Snape added, his voice serious. "Is it safe to return to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed, leaning in to look at the scar on Harry's forehead. "Barty Crouch was detained as soon as I received your patronus."

"We shall leave then," Snape said, pushing Harry upward a little. "Before the vultures arrive."

Dumbledore nodded, taking a Muggle 50p coin out of his pocket and muttering a charm at it.

"Straight to the hospital wing with you," Dumbledore said, turning to stand between them and the crowd, so their departure would not be noticed as much.

Harry nearly fell again as they landed, but he caught himself on a bedrail before crashing to the floor.

"All right," Snape muttered, putting his hands under Harry's arms and hoisting him up onto the bed. They'd landed in some sort of private room, and Harry was grateful for the solitude. There were normally at least one or two students in the hospital wing at any given time, and Harry didn't want to be on display.

"Madame!" Snape called, shutting the window blinds. Before Harry could protest, Madame Pomfrey hustled in, a washbasin in her arm.

"Severus, this is the staff..." she started, glancing between Harry and Snape. "Ah."

Snape gave a half smile, and moved toward the bed. "Cut on the arm, and a curse recovery scan. Please."

"Curse?" she asked, ignoring Harry completely.

"The Killing Curse," Snape softly said. Harry took his glasses off, unsure of how long he'd be in the hospital wing, but rather glad of the fact that he was now safe. He handed them to Snape, and closed his eyes, trying to remember the Leaky Cauldron and every single word his parents had said.

"Stay awake," Snape ordered, tapping the back of Harry's hand.

"M'awake," Harry muttered.

He heard Madame Pomfrey tsk as she cleaned the cut Pettigrew had made, and Snape's low voice explaining what he knew of the graveyard scene.

"Is he really back?" she quietly asked, casting a spell over Harry's body that made him feel quite warm.

"He was," Snape answered. "But he won't ever be again."

....

Ten minutes after the exam was finished, after Madame Pomfrey had pronounced him ‘exhausted, but physically okay,' Harry sat in the bed and wondered when he could leave. He didn't feel tired, at least not mentally, and he felt a bit jumpy being hidden away in a hospital room, without knowing what was going on outside. He'd heard Snape tell Pomfrey that Voldemort was dead, but Harry wanted to hear it from someone else. Everyone else.

Not long after he'd seriously considered wandering out, the door to the room opened, and Snape entered with Ron and Hermione.

"HARRY!" Hermione yelped, running toward the bed and giving him an awkward hug.

"Close call there, mate," Ron commented, his eyes bright as he approached.

"Think I've had enough of those, for a while," Harry said, with a half laugh.

"What happened then?" Ron asked. "First you're gone on a training session, then Snape yells at us, and now everyone's saying that Professor Moody was arrested."

Ron plopped himself down on the foot of the bed, and Hermione took the visitor's chair. Harry looked up toward the door, but Snape had vanished.

"Well, you were right, Hermione," Harry started, very glad that Snape had given them the opportunity to talk about this now, without a single other person around. "He does make a good guardian, and he's apparently been doing it since I was a baby."

Hermione nodded in understanding, but Ron scrunched his face up in disbelief.

"Snape? SNAPE?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, watching his friend carefully. "Snape. The one who's been training me."

"Snape hates you. Hates all of us," Ron said, as if he were giving Harry a stern reminder.

"Probably," Harry evenly agreed. "He definitely wasn't happy with me earlier. But he did just help me kill Voldemort."

There was a moment of silence as the two of them stared at each other, and Hermione shot up in the chair.

"What?"

"Hang on," Ron said, "kill Voldemort?"

"I thought Crouch..." Hermione started, looking very confused.

"He was going to do something," Harry said, nodding. "But I uh, saw something in Dumbledore's office earlier, and went for some fresh air."

Hermione crossed her arms, giving Harry a Look. "Where did you go for fresh air?"

"Home," Harry answered, picking at the blanket on the bed. "And then about. Anyway, Scabbers -Pettigrew- he found me and apparated me to where Voldemort was hiding."

"Oh Harry," Hermione said, her fingers pulling the fabric of her jumper. Ron was sitting quietly, but he was listening intently.

"It was a house that we'd seen before. Snape had been there, and he trained me to know the inside of house. I have a way to contact him, if I'm ever in trouble, so that's what I did."

Harry watched the varying expressions on his friends' faces as he continued the story, and he noted that Ron looked very green when Harry mentioned getting cut and his blood being added to the potion. Hermione looked very interested when Harry explained how Snape had switched the bones, and Ron even looked a bit impressed when Harry described the ball of fire that Voldemort threw at Snape.

Harry didn't tell them about meeting his parents at the Leaky Cauldron. They looked upset enough that Harry had nearly died (again), and it was something he wanted to keep to himself for now.

"But I'm all right now," Harry quietly said. "And it's because of Snape."

Harry gave Ron and Hermione a minute to digest what he'd said. He checked his arm, running his thumb along the skin where Pettigrew had cut him, but Madame Pomfrey had done a very good job and there was no mark whatsoever.

"Why's he always such an arse, then?" Ron finally said, crossing his arms.

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging, but looking pointedly at his friend. "He was born that way. So was Percy, and so was Dudley."

"Oh for," Hermione muttered, standing up from her chair and walking over to the window to peer outside. "Ron, he just saved Harry from You Know Who. If Harry's all right with Snape as his guardian, does it matter? Maybe Snape isn't mean when he's not...around other people."

"Percy is an arse sometimes," Ron conceded, ignoring Hermione completely.

"Right?" Harry said, with a tentative grin. "Look, Ron, he's not your dad, but he's become mine. And I think he's proved that he's good at it, so...yeah. I don't want to change things."

"I thought he was just helping you train for all this," Ron replied. He still sounded a bit confused, and Harry was a bit amused that Ron's biggest issue was Snape becoming his guardian, and not that he'd almost fought Voldemort alone.

"No," Harry replied, looking down at his hands. The tattoo had stopped beating, but it was there, permanently, and Harry was happy to see it. "Well yeah. But I think he meant it for longer."

Ron nodded, but he was staring at the blankets on the bed, and Harry figured his friend would maybe need to see that Snape could actually be nice, before he was okay with things. Hermione, who wasn't as surprised as Harry thought she would be, was still looking out past the curtains.

"Are you going to still keep this a secret?" Hermione questioned.

"For a while," Harry said, turning his head to face her. "I still have to tell Sirius."

Harry was startled by a sudden snort of laughter, and whipped his head around to see Ron covering his mouth.

"I forgot about Sirius," Ron grinned. "Oh he's going to be mad."

"Ron, that's not funny. It's not going to be easy for Harry to tell Sirius," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. She walked back toward the bed and Ron slipped off, staying neatly out of smacking range.

"Yeah, but if he does it when Snape's there too, it might be funny to watch," Ron pointed out. "Ugh, Snape's going to make you a Slytherin now, isn't he?"

Ron's expression at the end of the sentence was almost comically horrified, and Harry smirked.

"No," Snape replied, standing in the doorway. "Because wherever Potter ends up, you two aren't far behind, and I do not want to deal with the three of you for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. Let Gryffindor lose the house points for troublemaking."

"We don't go looking for trouble," Harry said, crossing his arms in a mirror image of Snape.

Snape raised his eyebrow in sarcastic disbelief, while Harry and Ron glared at him.

"Well, it is more like bad luck..." Hermione offered.

"Not a word," Snape said, holding up his hand and rolling his eyes. "Potter, you've a meeting with the Headmaster in ten minutes. Your friends can meet you later."

"All right," Harry said. "I don't have to come back here, do I?"

"Not unless you face plant on the stairs on your way to the office, no," Snape sarcastically responded. Ron's jaw dropped, and Hermione's eyes widened.

Snape uncrossed one arm, and pointed at Ron and Hermione.

"Nothing said in this room will be repeated, until you have permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione agreed. Ron just nodded.

Harry waited until the door closed, before grinning.

"He's really not so bad," Harry said. "He even has a collection of old matchbox cars."

....

Dumbledore's office had a rather large round table set up in it, with several chairs around it and a tea set in the middle. Snape was sitting in the chair nearest the couch, listening to the Headmaster pace and ramble.

"You used a Basilisk bone?" Dumbledore asked, glee in his eyes. "And yet, you didn't know of the horcruxes when you'd switched it?"

"The house elf had just finished switching them when you informed Potter and I of the horcruxes," Snape confirmed, watching Harry slip around the table to pick a chair.

"And of all odds to use that animal..." Dumbledore pondered, stroking his beard.

"It wasn't luck," Snape grumpily said. "I needed bones different enough to cause a problem with the regeneration. Hospitals don't exactly give away body parts, so I went where I knew the biggest pile of similarly sized bones would be. I straightened a few to resemble human bones, and put the venom in the marrow."

"The Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore breathed. "My boy, every once in a while I seem to misremember how intelligent you are. And then am spectacularly reminded."

"Thank you, Headmaster, for the insult and compliment," Snape muttered. The door opened just as Harry sat in his spot, admitting several people wearing the same red robes Harry had seen at the graveyard, along with Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.

"No press today, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked, welcoming them all with a smile.

"Not ever for this type of meeting," Fudge replied, and he wore a smile as well, though it was not a pleasant one.

Harry felt more than a little out of his league, but Snape was sitting beside him, looking bored, so Harry took a bit of comfort in that. He was at least grateful that that awful Skeeter woman wasn't allowed in.

"We can confirm then, that the greatest threat to Wizarding kind in the twentieth century is officially dead? Without any chance of returning?" Fudge asked, settling into his chair as the Aurors started taking notes.

Dumbledore glanced for the barest second toward Snape and Harry, before nodding.

"I am happy to say that it's true," Dumbledore agreed. "Though I think this is a tale that we should start from the beginning."

Harry relaxed his posture as he listened to Dumbledore speak, rather impressed at the tale that the Headmaster was spinning. It was mostly the truth, though Dumbledore focused on the prophecy, and glossed over the training. The Great Circles were mentioned, and Harry thought it rather funny how Dumbledore used the novelty of those to detract focus away from teaching such a young student how to apparate. Harry's running away was mentioned, but the reason given was due to stress from the upcoming final tournament task. Dumbledore then became very specific in his retelling, and asked Harry a few pointed questions. The Headmaster seemed to have a fairly good idea of what had happened between the time Pettigrew had kidnapped Harry and Snape had arrived to the graveyard, but Harry didn't fill in much of the details. He remembered the taunting, and the cut on his arm, but kept his mouth shut. The Aurors and the Minister didn't need to know how scared Harry had been.

"Did you actually cast any spells, Harry?" Fudge asked, after he'd taken time to process all he'd been told. Harry was a bit blindsided by this stern, professional version of Fudge, as it was nothing like the cheery image he presented to the press.

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Harry said, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember. He'd used his panic button of a tattoo plenty of times, but couldn't remember ever casting a spell at either Voldemort or Pettigrew.

"Very good," Fudge said, nodding to himself. Harry didn't understand how that was good at all, but didn't want to ask.

"And you, Snape?"

"Personal shielding spells, a binding spell, and a very strong rennervate," Snape reeled off. He did not volunteer anything else.

"And how long did it take, from the time of the regeneration, to the time of death?" one of the Aurors asked.

"Approximately ten minutes, I believe," Dumbledore answered.

"Far too long," Snape muttered, earning the sympathetic nod of an Auror.

"What, exactly, was the cause of death?" Fudge asked. His eyes were flickering around the room as he interviewed them, as if he were already planning the next few important steps in this Voldemort-free world.

"Basilisk venom," Snape answered. "Over the past nine months the pattern in rising stock prices for rare potion ingredients pointed toward the possibility of three certain potions in a testing stage. Only one potion on the list is capable of bringing a destroyed human back to life, and it requires a donation of flesh, blood, and bone. Bone is easiest to poison without detection."

There was half a minute of stunned silence in the room, before one of the Aurors, who looked to be in charge by the badge on his robe, spoke with a very sarcastic tone.

"Still working for the good side, Snape?"

Snape had a pained smile on his face, but Harry could tell that he was amused.

"If it's all the same to you, Cornelius, I'd like to discuss what information is released to the public," Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the folded Daily Prophet on the table.

Fudge looked between the Aurors at the table, and then to Snape and Harry.

"That won't be a problem, Albus," Fudge answered. "I wasn't planning on releasing anything."

"What?" Harry asked, glancing between Dumbledore and Fudge. "You're not going to tell people he's dead?"

Snape drummed his fingers once, strongly, right next to Harry's hand. Harry got the warning, and stayed quiet.

"Most of the public, save for a few conspiracy theorists, have believed You Know Who dead since the night you defeated him, Harry," Fudge explained. Fudge spoke in a level tone, and Harry appreciated that he wasn't being spoken to as a child.

"The remaining Death Eaters have also known that he was not dead," Snape idly pointed out.

Fudge cleared his throat and looked straight at Snape.

"Quite. The Ministry is of the belief that it is beneficial that the general public does not learn of these horcruxes, nor any other means of making oneself immortal."

Dumbledore inhaled sharply.

"Censorship is a slippery slope, Cornelius."

"It's not censorship," Fudge said, giving Dumbledore a sly smile. "It's a cover-up. No books, articles, nor educational materials regarding horcruxes will ever be censored. However, You Know Who is generally believed to be dead, and we'd rather not raise the alarm that he has, in some capacity, still been alive and able to rebuild his army."

"Hmm," Dumbledore hummed.

"What will you say, then?" Harry asked, seeing that no one else had any questions at the moment. "Everyone knows something's happened."

"It will be reported that Bartemius Crouch was arrested at Hogwarts, charged with impersonation and kidnapping. The reason for such offenses will be explained as an attempt to throw the tournament."

Fudge glanced at his Aurors before continuing.

"Bartemius Crouch senior. How the son escaped Azkaban is still under investigation and will be kept quiet."

Snape nodded, and Harry found himself nodding as well. Harry was beginning to like the idea that people weren't going to know what happened. He had enough of being the Boy Who Lived now, and didn't want to imagine the attention he'd get if everyone knew he'd survived the Killing Curse a second time.

"Are we in agreement?" Fudge asked, closing his notebook.

Dumbledore turned to look at Snape, and Harry watched the flickering eyelids. More non-verbal communication, or perhaps Dumbledore also knew legilimency and they had some sort of memory sharing system worked out.

"So long that is it understood, should this ever be exposed, that the cover up was fully the idea of the Ministry," Snape said.

Fudge smiled.

"And you are absolved of all wrongdoings?"

"I am the boy's guardian," Snape answered, smiling in return. "If something does get out, it'll be me you hear from."

Fudge did a double take at that.

"I see," Fudge said, collecting his papers. "A former Death Eater and a prison escapee. Interesting guardians you have, Mr Potter."

"It's just the Death Eater, actually," Harry smartly said, looking squarely at Fudge. "But Sirius shouldn't have been in prison at all. He's innocent, and you've got Peter Pettigrew in custody."

"Yes we do," one of the Aurors acknowledged. "And he will be questioned."

Dumbledore rose from the table, starting off a chain reaction of chairs scraping as the meeting drew to a close.

"I'm quite certain Sirius Black will be happy to provide a statement under veritaserum, if he is for once granted a fair trial," Dumbledore spoke.

The Auror paused, but Fudge nodded. "Have him offer to surrender, in return for information on the whereabouts of Peter Pettigrew."

"In two weeks?" Dumbledore enquired.

Fudge considered this for a moment, and Harry wondered if two weeks was enough time between the stories of ‘Crouch Fixes Tournament' and ‘Sirius Black Surrenders' would be enough to not raise suspicions of a link between the two.

"Two," Fudge agreed. "If necessary, he can explain his timing due to concerns regarding Potter's safety in the tournament."

Dumbledore nodded, and explained that a few other people knew what had happened with Voldemort, but that they would be sworn to secrecy before the Evening Prophet was delivered. Harry remained quiet as the Aurors and Fudge each walked to Dumbledore's fireplace and Flooed back to the Ministry. Harry was more than a little chuffed that he'd been allowed to stay for the meeting, as in twenty minutes and by less than ten people, Voldemort's demise was planned to be officially misreported, and Sirius was going to get a chance to prove his innocence.

...

 

Snape walked with Harry back to Gryffindor tower, his dark cloak swirling behind him. Most of the students were in their dorms or at study hall, as it was past dinner now, but a steady murmur of chatter could be heard throughout the halls. It seemed like just a regular school day for everyone, though Harry felt a year older than he had been in the morning.

"Can't I sleep downstairs?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low.

"Only on the weekends," Snape dryly said, looking straight ahead. "Though it's against the school rules. You need to speak to your friends tonight."

"Yeah, I know. Do you think Fudge will do as he says, Da...er. Professor?" Harry questioned.

"The Minister has weighed both sides carefully and determined, correctly, that the fall back of not detecting You Know Who's presence for fourteen years would not be sufficiently countered by the report that two people, who do not work for the Ministry, finished him off," Snape evenly replied, with a small smirk.

Harry laughed quietly, feeling that his steps were lighter. Voldemort was finally gone! He had a wide smile, but it started to slip as he replayed the events of earlier in his mind.

"Sir?" Harry asked, glancing up ahead, and then behind them. "The promise you made, that wasn't just for my mother, right? You do want...I can stay?"

Snape's steps slowed, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he pushed Harry toward a classroom, flicking on the lights as they entered and then closing the door.  Harry waited while Snape checked for ghosts, and then finally cast a privacy spell.

"You ran away this afternoon, after seeing what was in the pensieve," Snape said, and it was not a question.

"Yes," Harry miserably replied, walking up to a windowsill and looking out over the dark courtyard below. "Fourteen years ago you didn't want to protect me."

Snape remained by the door.

"You weren't my primary concern," Snape allowed.

"I wasn't any concern," Harry corrected, shaking his head.

"Perhaps not," Snape quietly said. "Not then."

"Your Mum told me what the name John means," Harry said, turning and looking straight at Snape. He didn't miss the scowl that instantly darkened Snape's face.

"It's a biblical name," Snape started, the barest trace of a smile forming on his face when Harry rolled his eyes.

"Dad. She told me what you used to use it for," Harry interrupted.

"I'm sure she did," Snape calmly agreed. There was a moment of silence that seemed to be comfortable for Snape, but Harry was waiting for some sort of response. Finally, just as Harry was about to demand to know if Snape still wanted to be his guardian, Snape started to talk.

"Your mother was my only childhood friend, even after I came to Hogwarts," Snape said, looking beyond Harry and out the window. "This changed after an incident at school, but I did not forget my first friend. Just as I suspect, as angry as you may sometimes be, you will always look out for Granger and Weasley. I wanted to protect her, and in my panic, only thought of her. It was a natural reaction, and one I am not sorry for."

Snape's voice didn't waver as he spoke, but he still didn't meet Harry's eyes.

"I do regret the secrecy," Snape continued, "especially now that I see how studious you have become under proper guidance and encouragement."

Harry's eyes widened at the praise, and he mentally kicked himself for having such little faith in Snape, when the man had spent a year and a half proving to Harry not only that he cared, but that his horrid professor personality wasn't the only one Snape had.

"And I've misplaced the guardianship papers. You're stuck, in any event," Snape finished off, finally looking at Harry and giving him a smug look.