Harry stared at Snape from the couch, his fingers clutched around a coffee mug that had long lost its heat.

"You are absolutely certain that he is alive?" repeated Snape, staring at the Marauder's Map on the coffee table. It was still activated, and though several student tags seemed to be wandering about places they shouldn't be, Snape was more focused on the Peter Pettigrew tag that kept blipping in and out of the boundary by the Forbidden Forest.

"I'm pretty sure," Harry said, also looking at the tag. "I don't think this map lies."

"This spare bit of parchment, you mean," Snape replied, his tone dry. Harry didn't rise to his bait though, choosing just to shrug.

"It is parchment."

"Is this how you were able to leave Hogwarts?" Snape sternly asked.

"No," Harry immediately answered, keeping his eyes on the map because he knew Snape would know he was being dishonest if he made eye contact. It wasn't exactly a lie, as Harry used a tunnel to get out, but the map had been what revealed the tunnel. "And I'm not going to give it over either. Even if you decide to become my guardian, that was my Dad's. And, and now it's mine."

"Oh?" Snape quietly asked, standing up to manually add another log to the fire in his fireplace. It gave a fierce crack as the heat rushed through the wood, and it took a few moments for the sparks to settle.

"Yes," Harry said, trying to sound as imposing as he should. Snape ignored him though, and sat back down on the couch to start taking notes about the map and where Pettigrew currently was.

"So, will you?" Harry asked, after two minutes of silence. Snape didn't look up from the map, nor did he stop writing on his pad of paper.

"Will I what?" Snape asked, focused on his task.

"Be my guardian," Harry pushed, exhaling a bit of a fortifying breath. "Dumbledore said it was only for legal reasons, so I don't think you'd be responsible for the supervis..."

He paused as Snape leaned over the table, flicking his quill over the guardianship papers Harry had stolen from Dumbledore, and signed the bottom with quick ticks of the quill. He resumed his note taking immediately afterward, still not looking up at Harry.

"Oh," Harry said, blinking as the ink settled into the parchment, below his own scrawl of Snape's name. Snape had just agreed to be his guardian, without even a single word against the idea. "That's it? You don't need time to consider it, first?"

Snape did look up at him this time, and Harry saw the same Snape that he'd stayed with over the summer - youthful, inquisitive, and somehow all-knowing.

"I have had more time than you could imagine," Snape cryptically answered.

Harry glanced down, the maze of nametags on the map slowly moving like a rolling wave on the coffee table.

"Why didn't you say, or offer, before?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and unaffected. He didn't know why he suddenly felt hurt, because it was Snape and up until last summer he hadn't even liked the man, but to hear that Snape had considered guardianship, and never mentioned it, felt like he'd been passed over once again. Harry Potter - the boy who wasn't good enough.

Snape had always had a sort of malicious sixth sense for identifying the insecurities of whomever he was talking to -something Harry had noticed very early on in class- and it hadn't abated in the least.

"It wasn't a question of being worth the bother. Have no doubt that I have not noticed your appalling habit of not asking for help," Snape said, sitting back against the chesterfield and looking straight at Harry. Without the distraction of the map or Snape's notes, it was very much like being under a microscope.

"It's not help," Harry defended. "I've managed for this long with my Aunt and Uncle. It would just be a legal guardian in our world."

Snape eyed him curiously, and Harry fidgeted in the chair.

"We shall start lessons on deception then, as your ability to lie is rather pathetic."

"Hey," Harry objected. But before he could say anything else, Snape asked him a question that made his stomach twist unhappily.

"How long were you going to wait before running away from your relatives, and taking the Knight Bus to Lower Tarrow?"

Harry took a moment to draw his feet up onto the chair, and to wrap his arms around his knees as he thought. He had no idea how Snape knew that was exactly what he planned to do this summer, and he was more than a little concerned that Snape could read his thoughts that well.

"A week," Harry finally mumbled.

"Two weeks minimum," Snape said, holding up two fingers in the polite fashion. "Unless I am absolutely certain that the blood protection no longer works, you will return to her house in order to renew it."

Harry scowled.

"I don't think it'll work, if you have official guardianship over me."

Harry felt like literally pouting, but he knew much better than that. This discussion, open as it was, was definitely in Snape's control and he wouldn't take the attempted manipulation well.

"Must I remind you that your female living relative stepped into the role the blood protection required? I do not qualify, therefore I do not usurp the protection, and Potter if you even dare to think of mentioning my long hair-"

Harry quickly made a zipper gesture over his lips and clamped his mouth shut. Not that he was tempted to comment, but it kept the laugh in as well.

"Now. This information, much like the private lessons, is to be kept absolutely secret. I would much prefer that you did not inform your friends. I will be informing Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, but you are not to make any mention to them that anything has changed. The castle walls have ears, John, and I am trusting you to keep us both out of danger."

"I won't say a word, sir," Harry said, nodding. He blinked and looked up. "Oh. Now it makes sense...in the library at my primary school was an old war poster, with a funny picture of Hitler on it that said ‘Tittle Tattle Lost the Battle'. That's what that meant, isn't it?"

"Yes," Snape answered. "Exactly. The spread of rumours could lead to very unpleasant consequences."

"All right," Harry said, relaxing back into the chair. He tried to hide his smile as he let his legs down, but wasn't quite successful. He had a guardian now, and one that didn't loathe him. Well, not anymore.

"So two weeks at the Dursleys, then off to h-Lower Tarrow."

"Where the house rules will be discussed," Snape promised, though it sounded similar to a threat. He raised his eyebrow to show he was serious.

"This is going to be the longest two weeks of the entire year. No one in that house likes me."

"You're a thirteen year old boy with a smart mouth. I'm certain you irritate a lot of people," Snape said, standing up and walking to the fireplace. "Now, if you are finished discussing domesticity, we must involve the Headmaster in the discussion about Peter Pettigrew."

Harry nodded, and sat properly in the chair. Slouching on the furniture was one thing when it was just Snape there, as it was his furniture and he did it himself. But Harry suspected that Snape kept up some illusion of formality around the Headmaster, and so he'd behave.

Snape pinched a handful of Floo powder from a container on the mantel, and stuck his head through the flames, calling for Dumbledore.

Harry's eyes were once again on the map on the table, and he could only imagine what Dumbledore would think of it.

"Mischief managed," Harry whispered, urging the map to clear itself quickly. Snape's head was still in the flames, as he discussed something, so Harry tried to fold the map as quietly as he could. There weren't many hiding spots around the living room, not many that Snape wouldn't immediately suss out, so Harry reached over quickly and shoved it under the couch cushion.

One minute later, Dumbledore gracefully stepped into the room. Both were glancing at the coffee table - Dumbledore toward the guardianship papers, and Snape to where the map had previously been.

"Hello there, Harry," Dumbledore said, completely unsurprised to find Harry in Snape's private flat.

"Hello sir," Harry greeted, holding up his coffee cup. "Wish some?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"Bit too late in the day for caffeine, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, glancing down at the papers again. "I see you've made a decision."

"I have, sir," Harry said, halfway to the kitchen. Snape was standing beside the fireplace; his arms crossed as he watched Harry and seemed to be waiting for what Harry was going to say.

"Professor Snape has saved me once, and I'm fairly sure he'll do it again if I need it," Harry said, trying to sound confident, but not like he was trying to wheedle permission from Dumbledore. "He wasn't on the list of people you first mentioned, but you trust him, so I thought he was a good choice."

Snape lifted an eyebrow without moving anything else on his face, and Harry made a mental note to learn how to do that.

"I trust him with my life, Harry," Dumbledore said, and he looked like he was genuinely happy. "Just as I trust him with yours. I had merely not thought of the choice, but once again, I find myself happily surprised."

There was a look passed between Dumbledore and Snape, and Harry shook his head, feeling as if he'd been left out on some sort of inside information. But the smell of the coffee in the kitchen was beckoning, and Harry suspected he'd have better luck asking Snape when Dumbledore wasn't there.

When he returned to the living room, there was a lively discussion of the remains of Peter Pettigrew that had been found after the blast. Various news articles had reported very little, but Dumbledore had been at the inquest and told the story to Harry, of how Sirius Black had hunted down Pettigrew and murdered him.

"Was he trying to kill his friends?" Harry asked, standing by the fireplace with his coffee until Snape told him to sit down somewhere.

"Well," Dumbledore pondered, as if he was trying to decide how much Harry should know. Harry huffed, irritated that once again he was being treated like a child who was too young to know what he was in the middle of.

"There were four of them, right? The Marauders?" Harry interrupted. "And he would have gone after Professor Lupin next?"

There was a small noise from Snape's desk, where Snape had retreated to and was sifting through his notes.

"Possibly," Dumbledore softly said. "Though he made no attempt to flee the scene, after the spell was cast."

"Cackled like the mad hatter he is," Snape muttered from the desk.

"Do you know what spell he used?" Harry asked, morbidly curious about the man who'd led Voldemort to his parents. "I mean, can the killing curse cause that much destruction?"

Dumbledore had wandered over to the house picture on the wall, waving his fingers and animating it somehow that a small boy, wearing oddly floppy over clothes, was running back and forth in front of the front step.

"It has never been known to, but the powers behind the killing curse are somewhat of a mystery, even more so after you were able to survive it."

"Stop talking in riddles," Snape ordered, turning in his chair to glare at Dumbledore. He snapped his finger and the boy in the photo instantly disappeared, though the disapproving frown on Snape's face didn't. Harry remembered that Snape had insinuated the house was the one he'd grown up in, and didn't need too many guesses as to who the boy had been.

"Black most likely didn't use the killing curse, as that spell does merely that. It kills someone, without a trace of cause of death. Terribly inconvenient for the Ministry when a Muggle is found dead from it," Snape explained, and his tone held none of the reluctant softness that Dumbledore's had. "Black used something explosive, to the point where Muggles were murdered, and all that was left of Pettigrew's body was a severed finger. That should not have been possible, with a regular Unforgivable."

Dumbledore looked sad at Snape's summation.

"And now Potter claims that he is alive," Snape finished, and Harry could feel him staring at the back of his head.

"I saw his name," Harry explained, his eyes on his coffee cup. "We were goofing around in the library, found a silly map spell, and tried it on a piece of parchment. And Pettigrew's name appeared."

"How interesting," Dumbledore mused, looking at Harry. Harry refused to look up. "A map spell?"

"That's Hermione," Harry shrugged, speaking quickly and trying not to sound like he was lying. "She likes to work ahead, and found it in some book."

"You know what this means, Headmaster," said Snape, after a moment of letting the Headmaster think. Harry turned to look, and saw that Snape was casually leaning against his messy desk of notes, charts, and maps.

"Yes I do, Severus," Dumbledore answer, his voice low and thoughtful. "If Pettigrew is alive, then perhaps Sirius Black is an innocent man."

Snape huffed with impatience.

"Or Sirius Black is not innocent, and has help getting into the castle," Snape ground out, and Harry saw his fingers flex against the edge of the desk, as if he was resisting shaking some sense into the Headmaster.

"Severus," Dumbledore warned.

"He knows that Black, Lupin and his father were friends," Snape snapped, waving his hand at Harry.

"And Peter Pettigrew," Harry added, in a low tone because he didn't particularly wish to get snapped at personally.

"You now have three of the four, either within the castle or just outside of it," Snape continued, not even glancing at Harry. "Potter is obviously the target, though Black the oaf slashed the wrong bed during the last attack. How many more breaches are required until you admit that we have a serious problem?"

Dumbledore played with his rings on his hand a little as he listened, a frown taking over his face.

"The security around Gryffindor Tower has been tightened, as per your last request. But if you and Harry are correct, if Peter Pettigrew is alive, then Sirius Black may be an innocent man. He was jailed for the murder of a man who isn't dead."

Both Snape and Harry stared at Dumbledore.

"And twelve others," said Harry.

"Ah," Dumbledore acknowledged. Harry wondered how Dumbledore had managed to forget that little important piece of information.

"Do not let yourself get side-tracked by this, Headmaster," Snape warned, coming to stand behind the armchair Harry was sitting in. "Once Black and Pettigrew are detained you may interrogate all you want, but until then, you must consider them both dangerous. It is quite obvious that Black, at the very least, will not stop in his quest to get to Potter."

A house elf suddenly popped into the room, scaring the piss out of Harry but not catching anyone else off guard. It handed a small note to Dumbledore, and then disappeared just as quickly.

Dumbledore then looked between Harry and Snape, and gave a small nod with a smile.

"I can see that you have most certainly made the correct choice, Harry," Dumbledore said, leaning forth to pick up the guardianship paperwork. "Well done."

He left through the fireplace with a cheery smile, shortly followed by a small iron pestle that clanged against the brick behind the fire.

Harry turned to look at Snape, and nearly flinched at the irritated expression on Snape's face. The last minute of the conversation replayed itself in Harry's mind, and he realised that Dumbledore never promised to catch Black and Pettigrew before finding out which one was innocent.

"Take note, John," Snape said, his voice oddly calm. "As your guardian I ask that you avenge me, because one day you will find me drooling in the corner, unresponsive, and it will be because I have had a stroke. And it will be entirely the fault of the Headmaster."

Harry gaped slightly, before swallowing.

"Right. Avenge. Any particular hex you have in mind?"

Snape looked down at Harry, and with an odd little twist of his head, the storm cleared and a small smile appeared.

"I am certain you will learn many appropriate ones during the upcoming lessons."

....

In April, just after the twins' birthday, Snape disappeared to a meeting on a Saturday evening. He scheduled a lesson for Harry on the Sunday, and Harry was a bit nervous about what to expect. He walked into Snape's office and was slightly relieved to find Snape sitting at his desk, looking extremely bored with the essays he was marking.

On the student desk in front of Snape's was a very large bowl that glowed slightly blue, and had different carvings all over it. Definitely a new type of lesson.

"You have a notepad and a quill. Hold on to both as you enter the memory, and your assignment is to note down as many important things as possible. You will only be allowed to view this once, so pay attention, Potter. I only want the important things, not anything and everything you see. Any questions?"

Harry stared at the swirling blue-grey mist in the stone bowl on the desk in front of him.

"Nothing in there can hurt me?" Harry asked, double-checking. He used to think that simple things like a book couldn't hurt him, but after last year, had learned to be suspicious.

"No," Snape answered. "You will be removed from the memory once it comes to an end, and I will be in this room for the entire time."

Harry nodded, and Snape looked pointedly down at the pensieve. Snape had spent the last twenty minutes pacing about the room, teaching robes swirling, as he lectured Harry about memories, pensieves, and their usefulness.

"Here I go," Harry muttered, clutching the notebook and quill tightly as his finger touched the mist.

While Harry absolutely loved flying, the sensation of falling through an endless field of nothing into a memory was not something he particularly enjoyed. After a terrifying few seconds though, the ground seemed to form out of the mist surrounding him, and Harry landed with a painful thump. Memory Snape was waiting beside him, though he never acknowledged Harry's presence.

It was late evening, and the temperature rather similar to what they were currently experiencing at Hogwarts. Harry wrote that down as Snape started to make his way through the little village they were in, darting unseen down small cobbled alleys. Harry tried to keep up, all the while nearly making himself motion sick as he kept glancing from side to side to as to not miss anything important.

They came upon a disused wooden door at the back of a pub, and Harry watched carefully as Snape put his hand to the wood. A few seconds later an unseen window in the door opened, and a gruff looking man, not much younger than Snape, demanded a password.

"Toujours pur," Snape hissed, his voice deep and menacing. Harry nearly dropped his quill trying to write the password down, and slipped in unnoticed behind Snape as the door opened.

The room was dingy and lit only by candlelight. A round table stood in the middle of the room, with barrels of wine, ale, and whiskey stacked in the corners, and a bare light bulb (turned off), hung from the ceiling. Several people sat around the table, sitting on the barrels, and were dressed in various dark and mysterious looking clothing. Some had notes out, but most were simply sitting and talking. A few older characters - for the ones at the table all looked to be in their twenties - stood around the edges of the room and observed. Their robes, while still dark and indistinguishable, were slightly more worn as Harry was proud to have noticed, and they kept their reactions slightly more subdued, as if they'd been there before.

The younger ones at the table shared no such reservations, and were excitedly making silly plans to cause mayhem and mischief around the wizarding UK. Harry stepped around the room as he listened, knowing that none of the occupants could hear, see, or feel him. The plans being discussed were stupid ones, almost prank-ish, and not anything of Voldemort's rather violent calibre. Harry wrote it down in his notebook though, as the memory of Snape seemed to be concentrating rather intently on the conversation.

One of the older men on the outside of the room spoke up, and Harry flinched at the sound.

"Has anyone been in contact with Sirius Black?"

It was a gruff voice, and one Harry didn't recognize. The man stood in the corner with a hood over his face, and had dirty brown hair that hung down over his collar.

The younger people at the table all looked about, but none seemed to make eye contact. Harry was rather familiar with that move from school, when a Professor was looking for an answer and no one wanted to answer.

"Well no one has, have they?" one teen answered. He sat at the far end of the table, nearest to the shelving and old glass bottles, and had an arrogant look on his spotty face. "We've been trying, but Black doesn't exactly want to be found."

His mates laughed a bit, but this boy kept a stern look on the man who had spoken. "Not yet, anyway."

Harry noticed that Snape was staying quiet, slouched against the wall by the door. The slouching threw Harry at first glance as Snape always made sure to be as imposing and authoritarian as he could, but as he was standing now, he not only looked younger but drew far less attention to himself.

"And you think these little pranks against Muggles will catch his attention?" Snape asked, somehow sounding quite different from how he normally did. His voice was still low, but it had an Irish accent and his rhythm was different.

"Course it will," the boy answered, still looking arrogant, but unable to properly glare at Snape in the shadows. "Few reports of Muggle baiting, being spotted round town in dark hoods, and he'll find us."

"And then the killing begins," Snape continued, in a low voice that sounded almost bored. Harry's eyes quickly flickered around the room, and he was surprised to see that most of the people were looking uneasy. Even the boy at the table, the leader of his group of friends, faltered his smile for a moment.

"Maybe," the boy said, after a minute of thought.

"There's no maybe about it," Snape answered back, keeping a sneer out of his tone. "Sirius Black murdered thirteen people, and the Dark Lord himself many others before that."

Snape looked around the room, pulling his cloak around himself as if he'd decided the group wasn't worth staying.

"You-Know-Who is dead," said a second teen, from the round table. "We'll be doing the work of Sirius Black."

"Wonderful," Snape snidely said, yanking the door open behind him. "Good luck in your endeavours."

"Wait!" the boy leader yelled, standing up from the table and withdrawing his wand. Harry instinctively crouched behind a wine barrel, but by the time the boy had pointed his wand, Snape's was already out and steady.

"I have no interest in your group and I will be taking my leave. I am well-practised with the Unforgivables, should you be thinking of detaining me."

The Irish accent was still there, and Harry was rather impressed at how Snape stayed in character even though he was facing a wand.

"I'm not afraid of you," the boy said, though his other friends were certainly not standing up in his defence. Harry noted, from his position behind the barrel, that the men standing near Snape had also moved further away to the sides.

"You should be," Snape replied. The sleeves of his robe (which Harry had just noticed were much looser than his normal clothing) slipped up easily with a flick of Snape's wand, and a dark tattoo of a snake and skull became visible on Snape's left forearm. It was only visible for a few seconds, but it was enough to catch the attention of most of the people in the room.

"I don't think you and I are looking for the same level of...entertainment," Snape said, before turning to leave the pub. Harry felt himself pulled out in pursuit of Snape, but as no one there could see him, he didn't panic. Outside Snape was glancing every which way as he left the alley, never once pausing and hardly making a sound. He turned to the left, where Harry thought the main street was, and a sickening pull yanked Harry up into the sky.

"Not good," Harry said, sitting back into the chair and nearly braining himself on the hard wooden back, as his head tipped too far.

"Dizzy?" Snape asked, though he didn't move from his own desk to check on Harry.

"A bit off balance," Harry admitted. It took another minute before his head stopped spinning, and then he held up the notebook. "Do you want to check my notes?"

"I highly doubt they will make any sense to me," Snape said, flipping through what appeared to be a potion order catalogue. "Summarize it."

"Okay," Harry said, standing up and looking at his notes. "The temperature was about the same as here, so the meeting either happened not that long ago, or in a place that is further south of us."

"Continue," Snape said, the catalogue now forgotten and his hands steeped in front of him, tapping on his chin.

"The kids at the table seemed to be of a different generation..."

Harry spoke for a good fifteen minutes, going over every single note he'd made, and summarizing as best he could. Snape seemed to be very pleased that Harry had picked up on the two different types of people in the room, those who had been in the first wizarding war, and the younger ones, who'd heard misguided stories of glory from relatives but never experienced anything. He'd also been very happy to see that Harry had noticed something that hadn't happened: discussion of Albania or potions.

Not a single word of either had been discussed during the whole memory, and Harry found that extremely odd. He trusted Dumbledore and Snape's information that Voldemort was in Albania, and it seemed a bit weird that a group trying to resurrect the Death Eater ideas wouldn't have any sort of clue about that.

"Your conclusion?" Snape finally said, his chin resting on his hands. He was wearing his regular tight black waistcoat again, and Harry stared at the spot on Snape's arm where he'd seen the Dark Mark not that long ago. Perhaps that was why Snape wore such an old fashioned suit - there was no way the sleeve would accidentally slip up and expose the Mark to students. 

"I think the meeting was set up by a bunch of bored teenagers who are looking to use Sirius Black's escape to cause trouble. They have no idea what Voldemort's like, and it's all just a front."

"Very good," Snape slowly nodded. "You missed a few things, but your observational skills have improved immensely since the previous year."

"Really?" Harry asked, a smile escaping onto his face. Praise from Snape somehow raised the value, likely because it was that much harder to earn.

"Yes, though for the past six months you've missed something painfully obvious about Lupin, and I will not pay a Knut of allowance until you figure it out."

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, his brows furrowed in thought. The thought of having someone to pay him an allowance was rather novel, and it warmed him a bit as Harry was fairly certain that the sort of legal guardianship that Dumbledore had been advocating was not the sort that gave Harry a weekly allowance.

"Think about it on your own time," Snape said. He stood up to fetch a folded map that was on the side table next to his desk, and then unfolded it in front of Harry.

"The meeting took place here. A small village on the southeast coast of England, which has little to no magical inhabitants anywhere near it. Amateur mistake, as any group of more than four wizards arriving for a meeting would cause a very suspicious spike in easily noticed magical residue."

Harry nodded, listening intently.

"No mention was made of the potion ingredients or Albania, as you noted, concluding that this group has no real plans to help the Dark Lord, or indeed, even seek him out. Therefore, the focus is on Sirius Black, their figurehead."

"Of course. Sirius Black supposedly blew up thirteen people, and they kept talking about pranks on Muggles and flashy smokes and bangs. He seems perfect for them," Harry said, happy that he had no trouble following along.

"Correct," Snape said, folding the map back up. "Utterly useless teenagers who are looking for an excuse to break the law."

"So, still no new information on whatever potion Voldemort is brewing," Harry said, slightly frustrated.

"Not exactly," said Snape, his expression smug. "One of the things you didn't notice, or I should say recognize, is that the man standing next to me when I walked into the room was the very one we met over the summer."

Harry's eyebrows rose instantly and he leaned back in his chair.

"The one who told you about the prices and Albania?"

"The very same," Snape nodded. He didn't say anything else, and looked to be waiting for Harry to say something.

"But why," Harry pondered, trying to figure out why the man was important. Snape had not interacted with him at all during the meeting, and from Harry remembered, the man hadn't recognized Snape at all. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he looked up to the dark gaze of Snape.

"How did you find out about this meeting? How was it advertised?"

The smile growing across Snape's face was not necessarily a pretty one, but Harry was happy with it as it meant he'd asked the right question.

"By word of mouth in Knockturn Alley -do not make any sort of movement that you recognize the name, as I will be very displeased to find that you have been there- it was advertised as a party for those who like to watch the world burn."

Harry, who'd kept stock still on the chair, twisted his head up slightly.

"That's really weird. Who even speaks like that?" Harry asked, tapping the toe of his shoes on the leg of Snape's desk.  "For those who like to watch the world burn."

"Lucius Malfoy," Snape deadpanned, and Harry laughed.

"But he wasn't there, not that I saw," Harry continued. "So why would it be important that your potion supplier went?"

The hourglass on Snape's desk gave a rather soothing four chimes, signalling the hour, before turning itself over.

"I suspect he was looking for allies, or perhaps had been solicited to find some," Snape said, rising from the table. He reached forward for a book that was at the edge of the desk, and Harry glanced at his outstretched left arm.

"That was the first time I've ever seen the Dark Mark," Harry said, his voice quiet but not timid.

Snape didn't flinch, nor did he pull his arm away.

"Some mistakes are made with a permanent reminder of them, John."

The book, along with the map and another sheaf of parchment, were sent floating down the hallway behind Snape's bookcase to his flat.

"Why do you still call me John?" Harry asked, watching Snape pull on his teaching robes and transform himself back into the scary potions master. "When I'm not using that disguise."

Snape picked up his wand from the desk and slipped it up his sleeve, on the outside of his left forearm. For a flash of a second Harry thought about how odd that was, until he remembered what was tattooed on the inside of the same arm.

"Because it is a distinctive trigger," Snape explained, moving toward the door. Harry picked up his school bag and followed. "It clearly distinguishes that I am talking to the attentive and tolerable student of the private lessons, and not the irritating Gryffindor who normally wanders these halls."

"Oh," Harry said, trying to hide his smirk. "Just like when I call you Uncle Sebastian?"

Snape had just extinguished the lanterns in the room, but Harry didn't need much light to see the scowl on Snape's face.

"You are hereby forbidden from ever referring to me by that name," Snape growled, his hand clutched on the doorknob and yanking it open.

"I'll think of something," Harry promised, though he did realise that it sounded more like a threat. Deciding that he really didn't want to wait for Snape's answer, Harry darted across the classroom, and out the door.

...

The next Care of Magical Creatures class was held near Hagrid's hut, and it was good that the flobberworms weren't particularly interesting, as Harry's attention was elsewhere. He ignored Ron's failing attempts to feed the flobberworm more lettuce, and instead kept glancing around the hut, looking for places for Peter Pettigrew to have concealed himself. Buckbeak was still in the pumpkin patch though, and Harry didn't know how Pettigrew could edge around the forest near Hagrid's without catching either Hagrid or Buckbeak's attention.

"These are so boring!"

Malfoy's whinge grated on Harry's ears, but he ignored it in order to concentrate on the patch of forest beyond the stone wall that kept Buckbeak in. He thought he'd seen a rat, but as he wasn't sure, he didn't want to raise Ron's hopes at having found Scabbers.

"Wonder if we're going to study Weasley's family next."

Draco's cutting voice interrupted Harry's observations again, and this time he did turn around. Ron was turning red in the face, and had forgotten all about the lettuce and flobberworm.

"I heard weasels are pretty weak and harmless," Draco continued, staring straight at Ron.

"I'll show you harmless," Ron grumbled, reaching into his cloak for his wand. Harry stepped in front of Ron, crossing his arms and making the most bored-looking face that he could muster. He'd seen Snape do it may times, and wanted to see if it would work with Malfoy as well.

"Weasel? Really?" Harry repeated, looking at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. "Is that the best you could do?"

Malfoy paused, clearly unsure of what to answer, and Harry fought not to smirk with triumph. A bell sounded from up in the castle, and the echo rang out across the grounds.

"I know you're a blond and all, but I was hoping for better," Harry finished, leaning down to pick up his school bag. Beside him, Ron wasn't even attempting to hide his smirk. Malfoy looked both flustered and irritated.

"Piss off, Potter the Unwanted," Draco spat, yanking his own bag up off the ground.

"I hope you step on a Lego, Malfoy!" Harry called after him, feeling much better. He and Ron both watched Malfoy storm off toward the dungeons, Crabbe and Goyle in tow, before heading up to lunch.

"What's a Lego?" Ron finally asked, after he'd stopped grinning.

"It's a Muggle toy, you build things with it," Harry answered, following Ron into the Great Hall. The smell of stew had been wafting through the corridor right outside, and Harry's stomach was grumbling.

"What can you build with it?" Ron asked, slipping into his spot. Harry didn't miss that he'd surreptitiously looked around for Hermione.

"Anything you can think of," Harry said, grabbing a roll from the steaming basket on the table.

"Yeah?" Ron asked, snatching one for himself.  "Should have built a cage for Scabbers with it. Maybe it would have kept Hermione's stupid cat out."

"Ron," Harry sighed, spotting Hermione entering the Hall. She looked uncertainly at Ron and Harry, until Harry waved her over.

"I'm just saying," Ron hissed, nearly dipping his chin in his stew as he leaned over. "He was already injured once, he didn't stand a chance."

"How was he injured?" Harry asked, an incredulous look on his face. He only remembered Scabbers as a mangy little thing that slept too much.

"He was missing a toe," Ron harrumphed, just as Hermione sat down. "Or a finger," Ron added.

"Hi Hermione," Harry greeted, before turning to Ron. "What did you say?"

Ron looked up from his stew, his mouth full and his expression confused. He lifted up his hand and wiggled his fingers.

"What about fingers?" Hermione asked, serving herself a bowl of stew.

"Scabbers is missing one," Harry mused, refilling his bowl. Hermione sighed and dropped her shoulders.

"I didn't know Crookshanks was going to-"

"It wasn't him," Ron grumbled, his face red as he reached for another roll. Harry didn't know if it was from the hot stew, or from embarrassment. "It's been missing since I got him."

"It doesn't matter," Harry shrugged, feigning disinterest as he went back to his lunch. It was a vey peculiar feeling, to have a bit of information that he was going to share with Snape, but not with his best friends.

....

Harry looked around the dingy room in the Shrieking Shack, trying to ignore the claw and scratch marks in the floor and on the walls. The evening hadn't started out that pleasantly, being the night that Buckbeak was to be executed, but when they'd gone down to Hagrid's to comfort him, well. That was when things went to hell. Scabbers had appeared in the garden just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione snuck out of Hagrid's hut, and Buckbeak spotted the rat immediately. Harry nearly got a black eye from the hippogriff's frantic wing beating, and he was just grateful that the bird was in hunting mode and hadn't made a sound.

Ron wasn't as thankful, and scooped Scabbers up in order to save his rat. He'd taken off running, closely followed by the now free Buckbeak, leaving Harry and Hermione standing by the garden with a broken chain. Harry had been about to laugh at the idiocy of it all, when a giant black dog, the same one he'd seen back in Little Whinging, had sprang out of the forest and tackled Ron.

And now here they were. Ron with a broken leg, staring at the rat that had just been revealed as Peter Pettigrew. Snape standing in the doorway of the room, his wand flickering between Pettigrew and Black. Professor Lupin's wand was trained on Pettigrew only, and Sirius Black was the only one who seemed to find the situation funny.

"Calm yourself, Black," Snape warned, collected and serious as he held out his wand. "Pettigrew may be alive, but I doubt very much that you are completely innocent."

"I don't give a jarvey's arse about what you think, Snivelly," Black spit back in response. Harry was taken back by the nickname.

"He's right, Sirius. Dumbledore needs to know, and if you kill Peter now, it will be much harder to prove your innocence," Lupin said.

"You can't kill him," Harry suddenly said, catching everyone's attention. "Let him go to trial. And let him rot in Azkaban afterward."

"Harry, he killed-" Black started, and Harry shook his head.

"And it makes us just the same, if we kill him now."

Pettigrew nearly crumpled with relief.

"Thank you, dear boy," Pettigrew said, trying to reach out to Harry. Snape inched forward, but Harry had pulled himself out of range.

"Don't touch me. Harry growled, feeling a chill go through him. He wanted to be back in the castle, away from this dingy place, and away from the crazy situation he didn't fully grasp. "The Dementors are here already, so they'll be waiting for you."

"As much as it pains to admit it, Potter is right," Snape said with a thick sneer, not lowering his wand. "Back to the castle, and then to the Dementors."

He had a twisted gleam in his eye, which made even Harry uncomfortable. Harry knew how much Snape hated Lupin and Black, but he hadn't known that Pettigrew had also earned such a high spot on the hated list.

"Right. Myself first, I think, followed by Peter, Sirius, and then you four," Lupin said, pointing his wand at Pettigrew and leading them out.

Harry waited as Snape levitated Ron, and then followed Sirius. Snape looked highly irritated, and Harry knew most of the reason. Even though Harry had immediately activated the anklet help signal, Snape wouldn't exactly be pleased that he'd run off into danger before waiting for help.

Ron, who was floating directly in front of Snape, didn't look pleased either. Professor Lupin lead the walk, seeming to have little trouble navigating as he mostly walked backwards with his wand trained on Pettigrew. Sirius Black was following Pettigrew, holding Ron's wand, and he was followed by Harry and Hermione. Hermione dropped behind a step to hold onto Ron's good foot, making sure that he didn't drift into the walls (either intentionally or accidentally) under Snape's levitation spell.

"Harry," Sirius said, turning to glance at him. Harry walked forward a little, still keeping a bit of a distance and still making sure that he was within view of Snape.

"I know this is a bit sudden, but you know now that I knew your parents very well, and, there's no other way to say it, but they made me your godfather," Sirius said, with a hopeful smile.

Sirius' tone wasn't that loud, as if he didn't want people to overhear what he was saying, but Harry knew that Snape had freakishly bat-like hearing and would pick it up anyway.

"I know," Harry said, watching ahead to make sure he didn't trip on anything in the dim light.

"Right, well," Sirius said, with a half laugh. "I have a house. You know, if you ever wanted to leave the Dursleys."

Harry blinked, and was surprised at the sudden guilt that hit him. This was the first time someone had actually offered him a home, and he felt guilty. Except it wasn't really the first time, as Snape had done it without words during the summer, and without sounding if it were an afterthought of some long drawn out revenge plot.

"I...okay. I don't really know you," Harry tried, not saying no right away until he could think of a reason that wasn't insulting.

"Sirius ‘Padfoot' Black, your godfather," Sirius said, sticking out his hand and smirking as if it was some sort of joke that Harry would find funny. When he noticed that Harry wasn't laughing, the large smile dropped to a more normal one, and he shrugged. "It'll be good. You can stay up as late as you want, and we can order takeaway whenever."

Visions of the silly sleep over parties that Dudley used to have with his friends swam to the forefront of Harry's mind.

"But you broke my friend's leg," Harry said, shaking his head and still taken aback at the sudden offer. Sirius had only actually spoken to Harry for less than an hour, and it was to explain how Pettigrew had been the one to betray his parents.

"Well," Sirius sputtered, and flipped a two-fingered salute at Pettigrew's expression. "It was an accident. I was rather focused on catching this rat bastard here."

"I know. But, I can't come live with you," Harry said, almost as confused as everyone else in the tunnel at what he'd said. "I'd like to visit though."

"I see," Sirius said. He tried to look blank and unaffected, but Harry could tell that he'd hurt him.

"Look, it's not-"

"It's fine," Sirius said, putting on a smile. "You've found something better. I'm just who your parents chose, and I have been in gaol."

"Yeah, they chose you, but you've been acting like a mad man," Harry said, waving his hand and almost hitting the side of the wall. "You broke Ron's leg, you slashed his bed, you slashed the fat lady's portrait - it all looks mad."

"I was trying to get Pettigrew! Before he could hurt you!" Sirius defended.

"You didn't think to write to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, honestly confused. How could Sirius possibly ask him to drop everything and go live with him, after Harry spent almost an entire year thinking that Sirius was trying to kill him?

"He might have hurt you, Harry," Sirius explained. "I couldn't risk it, not when Dumbledore had been a witness to the blast that I thought had killed Peter."

"Still, wasn't really the best idea," Harry muttered. It was a long walk back through the tunnel without the adrenaline of chasing after Ron, and Harry felt bloody weird to be telling someone that their rescue idea was stupid, when he'd gone after a sixty foot snake only last year.

"I was just trying to protect you. I was just doing my job," Sirius said, shrugging.

"Black, save the sob story for the Headmaster. The boy has a home and will be going there, no matter how much you beg," Snape finally said, and he sounded a lot closer than Harry thought he was.

"I don't beg, Snivellus," Sirius hissed, glaring backward into the dark. Hermione pulled Ron slightly to the side, so he wouldn't be in the middle of the glaring. "But this tunnel was almost your last sight on Earth, and I can arrange that for you again if you'd like."

Something twigged in the back of Harry's mind. He knew a prank had been played on Snape, which almost cost the man's life. And now he knew it had something to do with this tunnel. But what about the tunnel?

He barely heard the squabbling over his thoughts, and carefully followed Sirius out of the tunnel. It was a very bright night out, and Harry waited with the others as Ron was slowly floated out of the opening, to make sure he didn't smash his leg against anything.

"Remus," Sirius said, and the dark tone in his voice sent a chill of dread down Harry's spine.

"Get them back to the castle," Lupin growled, and Harry's eyes widened when his brain processed that yes, it definitely had been a growl.

"Oh no," Hermione said, glancing between Lupin and the full moon. "I was right."

"Right about what, Hermione?" Harry demanded. They were all seemingly frozen, watching as Lupin twisted against some invisible foe.

The flash of the Marauder's Map went past his mind quickly, but Harry saw the names all the same. Moony. And Lupin had always been sick around the full moon. They'd planted the Whomping Willow the year Lupin had started. And finally, the scratches on the floor and the wall of the Shrieking Shack.

 "OH," Harry said, remembering what Snape had said about his observational skills. They were improving, but there was still something big about Lupin he'd missed.

"He's a bloody werewolf!" Ron whimpered, pointing at the transforming Lupin. Harry didn't see much else, as a black cloak swept in front of him at the first howl of Lupin the werewolf. Snape was pulling Harry and his friends back, protecting them.

Several things happened at once, leaving Harry very glad that for the first time, another adult was in charge. Peter Pettigrew took advantage of the transformation to turn himself back into a rat, and a very strong grip on Harry's wrist prevented him from going after ‘Scabbers'. Sirius transformed into his dog form, chasing Lupin the werewolf away. Harry was frankly grateful for that, as he'd never seen a werewolf in person before and it was almost scarier than the basilisk, because Harry knew that just moments before it had been his logical and quite human Professor.

"Get to the hospital wing," Snape growled, still protecting Harry, Ron, and Hermione from the path that Lupin and Sirius had run off on. "I will summon the Headmaster."

Harry had serious doubts that they could manage with Ron, but he should have known Buckbeak wouldn't have gone far.

...

After Ron had been dropped off with Madame Pomfrey, and Snape had gone to retell the entire events to Dumbledore, Harry snuck out through the hallways for a walk. Hermione was staying behind to keep Ron company, but Harry had some excess adrenaline to burn off.

He made it to the top of the Charms wing, entering the small courtyard that separated it from the history classrooms.

"Harry!"

Sirius' voice was a whispered hush, despite the late hour and lack of any other person around.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, stepping into the shadows of the courtyard. He could just make out the outline of Buckbeak, standing behind a potted tree. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

"Off in the Forest," Sirius answered. "He'll be safe there for the night."

Harry nodded, but didn't know what else to say. Sirius was still dressed in his prisoner's uniform, which Harry found a bit odd as he'd broken out nearly a year before, and surely could have found some new clothes in that time.

"I want to thank you for giving me the chance to explain, in the Shack," Sirius continued, clapping Harry lightly on the shoulder. "And my offer still stands. Just say the word and my home is yours."

"Er, thanks," Harry said, slightly embarrassed. He was certain that Sirius was hoping Harry would change his mind.

"Right. You sure you want to stay with the Dursleys? I can't say I was impressed with them last summer," Sirius said, giving Harry a funny smile. "The scraps were terrible."

Harry smiled himself, and shook his head.

"The Dursleys aren't home," Harry softly said, looking up at the moon.

"Doesn't matter right now," Sirius shrugged. "I'll have to go away for a bit, until we can catch Peter again. Can't prove I'm innocent if I can't show he's still alive."

"Will you be all right?" Harry asked, regarding Sirius. The man looked too skinny, and like he'd not had a proper rest in months.

"Now that I can go back to my own house? Of course," Sirius said, leading Buckbeak out of the shadows. "And I'll be keeping in touch with Remus, Professor Dumbledore, and you, kiddo. Lots to keep me busy."

"Good," Harry said, suddenly feeling tired. Whatever energy he'd had from the evening's rush had drained quickly, and he wanted to go and burrow in his bed. "And I can visit, sometime?"

"Absolutely," Sirius said, carefully climbing onto Buckbeak. "James never needed an invitation, and neither do you."

"Good to know," Harry laughed, giving a wave as Sirius and Buckbeak took off. Harry watched them in the air for a moment, before zipping his sweater up and turning back toward the castle. His thoughts were swirling in his mind, distracting him enough that he walked directly past the shadowed figure of Severus Snape in the courtyard alcove.