Severus sat on the terrace in front of the small house where he and Harry had been staying at for four weeks already, a copy of the "Daily Prophet" lying on the rickety table in front of him. Until a few moments ago, he had watched Harry building what probably was the world's (or at least Britain's) largest sand-castle on the beach about 50 metres away from the house.

Now, however, his closed eyes and regular breathing suggested that the man was fast asleep. The weeks and months of looking after Harry, searching for ways to destroy the Horcrux and his increasing desperation when it didn't look as if the child would survive were finally catching up on him.

And Harry... well, nobody who had seen him on his first day at Hogwarts and especially during his stay at St Mungo's would believe that the boy playing on the beach was indeed the same child.

The most noticeable change was, of course, the absence of the Horcrux. No longer had his guardian to fear for his life and Harry himself was more than relieved that finally, after so many years, the voice that had continuously told him how worthless he was, describing exceedingly painful ways how it would kill him, was gone.

And since he didn't have to take any medicine or potion any more, he was now able to stay alert for hours on end. His head didn't feel like it was filled with cotton any more and the ever-present tiredness was gone. For the first time in many years, he could fall asleep without having to worry whether he would find new injuries on his body when he woke up again.

And he even could sleep now - if he didn't have a nightmare, that was, but that was a different matter. Of course, the medicine he had taken until a few weeks ago had seen to him sleeping, but it had never been a restful sleep. Now, however, he woke up in the morning, feeling refreshed, rested and ready for another day at the beach. Additionally, he could move much more easily as the constant stiffness was gone, his legs had stopped twitching so that he actually could sit still and he was able to concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time.

His improved concentration and the lessening need to move around had convinced the Potion Master that Harry was ready to resume his schooling. And so it was that he had ordered several textbooks about subjects typically taught at a muggle primary school as well as books that explained the basics about the wizarding world. In addition to the first-year books from Hogwarts, they now had enough material to keep Harry busy for the next few month.

Of course, the Potion Master hadn't thrown the boy into a full day of schooling yet. They had started with one hour in the morning and one in the afternoon. As Harry had shown a great deal more interest in learning than the average eleven year-old, they now where at two hours each morning, but despite Harry's pleading, Severus would wait at least two or three weeks in order to see how the boy was coping with the workload before he would allow him to learn for an additional hour.

But despite the obvious improvements, Harry was by no means fine.

After their arrival, the Potion Master had let Harry choose one of the three bedrooms, personally floated out the (in Harry's eyes) offending bed and promised him that they would build another tent soon.

However, he hadn't taken Harry's nightmares into accounts. After three nights of almost no sleep for either of them, Harry had moved into the Professor's room.

Several times each night, the child had been awoken by rather violent dreams about black, muddy creatures that tried to choke him to death, tall, white people standing around his bed and discussing how to torture him next and, again and again, he had heard the cold, high voice speaking to him, promising a painful death.

Most of the times, Severus was roused from his sleep by Harry's screams, though a few times the monitoring charm had gone off, which was a clear sign that even the boy's body was stressed by these nightmares.

Harry hadn't yet told the Professor (though from the looks the man gave him every now and then and his attempts to make Harry talk about the episodes he suspected that Professor Snape already knew about it), but a few times he had had some kind of nightmare even though he was awake.

Quite suddenly, he would lose focus of the real world and was thrown back into the past. He was back at that hospital, lying helplessly in a bed, a faceless figure pointing a stick - wand - at him, his whole body being on fire. Or he was in a cold and dark and stony room, lying on the ground, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, hearing the Horcrux telling him terrible things, feeling the pressure of the dark slime on his face, smelling the rotten flesh and then the horrible feeling of being unable to breathe, to suffocate, would start. Sometimes, he even had a brief vision of his Professor pointing his wand at him, saying something Harry didn't understand, and a terrible pain in his head.

It wasn't only during flashbacks that Harry was plagued by headaches, though. While they weren't quite as intense as the pain he had felt immediately after the destruction of the Horcrux, they rendered him incapable of doing anything except lying on the sofa (or, most of the times, in the Professor's arms) and trying not to throw up. The potions Professor Snape had given him had only helped very little, even the one the man had brewed especially for him.

Both Dr Green and Madame Pomfrey (who had already visited twice) had brought medicine (respective potions) against his headaches. Inwardly, Harry had scoffed at this. As if their stuff would work better than anything his Professor had brewed for him!

Unfortunately, he had been right and nothing the two medical professionals had recommended had helped at all.

However, there was one thing that lessened his headache more than any potion did.

One morning, when the pain had been particularly bad, Professor Snape showed him some sort of relaxation exercise. At first, Harry hadn't known what to make of the man's orders to "clear his mind". When the Professor had seen the doubtful look on his face, though, he had explained that Harry should try to look inside his mind, try to imagine what the inside of his mind might look like. It didn't matter if he didn't have a clear conception yet, the man had explained, his mind would reveal its true form eventually if only given enough time.

Despite Harry's best efforts, it hadn't worked that day, but Professor Snape had insisted on him practising even when he didn't have a headache. And really, after a few days time, Harry started to get visions of a large, grey space that didn't seem to have any limitations or boundaries and he could actually see his thoughts and feelings floating through this space.

When Harry had managed to establish this very clear picture of the inside of his mind, Professor Snape had taught him how to explore the place and it had been on one of those walks (or more precisely, floats) through that strange space that Harry had discovered an area where the white-and-grey clouds that dominated his mind seemed to be torn, ripped apart.

Curiously, he had approached this area, not paying attention the his Professor's voice that told him to be careful. And then, quite suddenly, the Professor had been next to him.

Later, Professor Snape would tell him that this was the way he had first discovered the Horcrux, the thing called 'Legilimency'. But when the man joined Harry into his mind, he hadn't bothered with explanations as Harry had been standing dangerously close to a large gaping hole in what had to be the bottom of his mind. Quickly, he had grabbed the child's shoulder and pulled him back.

Just then, a dark-grey mass had erupted from the hole and flooded their surroundings. Harry had cried out in pain and the Potion Master had wasted no time and retreated from the child's mind - taking said child with him, of course.

Once the pain had subsided to a level that allowed Harry to listen to him, Severus had explained that the hole was the place where the Horcrux had been ingrown in Harry's mind. The killing and subsequent ejection of it had left his mind wounded and, just like a physical injury, it would take time for it to heal.

Upon Harry's enquiry whether the grey muck that had come out of the hole meant that there was still something of the Horcrux left the Potion Master had assured him that this wasn't the case. It seemed that Harry's mind tried to cleanse itself as thoroughly as possible. And while it was quite painful, this process of purging made it more likely that Harry would, in the end, heal completely rather than have to live with a partially damaged mind forever.

Ever since that discovery, Harry tried to shovel as many clouds (or whatever it was) as possible between himself and the hole as soon as the pain started. As a result, his headache became much more bearable. And although he couldn't do anything else while concentrating on keeping the clouds in place, it was much better than to have to endure the pain without being able to do anything about it.

Unbeknownst to Harry, he had achieved something that - at least to the Potion Master's knowledge - no other eleven year-old had managed to do for quite some time. Being able to exert such a degree of control over one's mind at such a young age... let's just say the Professor was very proud of his ward and determined to teach Harry enough Occlumency to enable him to keep the headmaster out of his mind, should the boy decide that he wanted to return to Hogwarts.

But Harry wasn't the only one that had changed.

Over the last few weeks, the 'Daily Prophet' had been full of reports about the major upheaval that was currently shaking the Ministry of Magic.

Half of the wizarding world in Britain celebrated Amelia Bones as the witch who had had the courage to address their government's shortcomings and the questionable practices against muggleborns and - as an extension - muggles themselves. The fact that the initial investigation of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had had nothing to do with the ever-present issue of discrimination against muggle-born witches and wizard was conveniently overlooked.

The other half of the wizarding community blamed Madame Bones for the decision of the muggle Prime Minister to have a closer look at the Ministry of Magic.

Apparently, the investigation Madame Bones had initiated after hearing Dr Green's and Severus Snape's claims that muggles had been damaged by botched memory-spells had concluded that things were far worse than even the Potion Master himself had expected.

Apart from muggles that suffered from the after-effects of too strong or messed up memory-spells there were those who showed signs of having been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. As torturing muggles had been a favourite pastime of Voldemort and his followers, this came to no real surprise to anyone except some high-ranking officers at the ministry.

However, most wizards and witches didn't seem to care about the fate of the muggles but rather for what it meant for the government of the wizarding community.

Perhaps it wouldn't have come to this if the nice lady that had been Prime Minister during the last (and bloodiest) two years of Voldemort's reign still had been in office. According to an interview Cornelius Fudge had given the Daily Prophet, she had been very accommodating and allowed the Ministry of Magic to handle matters themselves even when muggles where involved.

Unfortunately, the new Prime Minister was far less inclined to let wizards have their own ways. And when it had become apparent just how many muggles had been charmed, hexed and even cursed and that, despite Fudge's claims on the contrary, most of those spells weren't harmless but did have long-term effects on an impressive percentage of people, the man had had a serious discussion with his boss - after he had calmed down from what was said to be one of the biggest fits of rage a Prime Minister had ever thrown after a confrontation with the magical community.

The agreement Prime Minister and his boss - the Queen - had reached had shocked wizarding Britain to its very core.

The Minister of Magic had to step down (that, even the 'Prophet' had suspected would happen) and instead the immediate instalment of a new Minister, the magical community of the UK had four weeks to call an election and to elect a Secretary of State for Magic.

The election had been a concession to the International Confederation of Wizards. According to the newspaper, the muggles government had originally wanted to install a wizard or witch of their choice without asking the magical community for their opinion at all. But the ICW, which had tried to force Britain to adopt a more democratic constitution for ages, had intervened and saved wizards like Lucius Malfoy from being under the control of muggles completely.

Not that the democratic election of a leader was much more popular amongst the purebloods, who were used to appoint a wizard of their choice as minister. And now even muggleborns had the right to vote!
And then there was the indignity of being deprived of the right of self-government. A Secretary of State, honestly!

True, only the Queen, the Prime Minister and very few people from the Security Service knew about that particular Secretary of State, and the everyday business at the Ministry probably wouldn't change very much, but just the fact that now the muggle government would have the final say in everything that might affect not only wizards but muggles, too, was enough to make some wizards consider emigration.

From what the medi-witch had told Severus on her last visit, even Dumbledore - allegedly one of the muggle-friendliest wizards there were - had expressed his disapproval about the decision of the muggle government. And Minerva had told him during one of her floo-calls that apparently, the Prime Minister had proved to be resistant to Albus' blandishments and attempts of manipulations, which meant that from now on, the old wizard would have much less influence on ministry-business.

But although it had mostly been the headmaster's influence that had saved Severus from being sent to Azakaban back after the war, he couldn't help but feeling pleased - not to mention relieved - at the newest development, as it meant that Albus was less likely to be able to get control over Harry and his future.

Harry himself was blissfully unaware of the ongoing crisis at the Ministry and looked forward to Ron's first visit that was due next Saturday. Professor Snape had told him that he had received an owl from Ron's father who had given permission for his youngest son to visit Harry every second weekend, under the condition that Ron's school-work didn't suffer.

What neither Harry nor Severus knew was that the two oldest Weasley-children had spoken to their parents and told them about Ron's and the twin's discomfort with their mother's disapproval of anything that was only remotely connected to Slytherins or death eaters.

After much protest from Molly that she only wanted to protect her children, Arthur had suggested that perhaps she was a bit overprotective and that her claims that all Slytherins were death eaters and therefore evil and her attempts to ban her children from having any contact with members of that house might lead to the exact opposite of what she wanted to achieve - namely the children seeking out Slytherins on purpose. After all, they were teenagers (or, in Ron's case, almost a teenager) and enjoyed doing everything their parents had prohibited.

When her husband had finished his speech, his oldest sons had nodded their had in agreement while Molly had burst into tears.

After a heated debate (and several calming draughts), though, she had agreed that from now on, Arthur should handle everything that involved their kids and Slytherins. Oh, she still wanted to know everything that was going on with the boys, but she agreed that it might not be in Ron's best interest to be prevented from seeing Harry, and thereby alienating him from his parents.

Two days after an excited Ron had visited, the Potion Master still tried to work out how it was possible that, despite his constant supervision, he hadn't managed to keep the boys from getting soaked while playing on the beach. For Harry's sake, he hoped that this wouldn't lead to Mr Weasley reconsider his agreement to let Ron visit Harry fortnightly - even if the more selfish part of his brain told him that it would be a good thing if Arthur Weasley decided that he was unfit to care for his son (even if it was only for one afternoon). Making sure that the two boys didn't accidentally drown themselves had been more demanding than brewing five complex potions at the same time!

Of course, he would never tell anyone had that he had been close to tears when he had seen Harry running around the beach, chasing the waves, squealing with joy.

It was hard to believe that this was the same boy that had been close to death only a few weeks ago.

"Harry?"

The boy in question looked up from the book he was currently reading. He and the Professor had had dinner about half an hour ago and were now sitting in the cosy living-room in front of the fireplace, both of them reading. It had become a routine of sorts. After dinner, the two of them would either talk or play chess or just read. Harry couldn't decide what he liked best.

He really loved to tell the Professor about his day or listen to the man telling him more about the wizarding world or Hogwarts. Sometimes, though, Professor Snape would start asking difficult questions about what the people at the hospital had done or even about his relatives and how they had treated him and such. Harry didn't like talking about that stuff, it made his head hurt and sometimes he got all sad and angry and confused when thinking about those times - no, he really didn't enjoyed those discussions.

Reading books was great, especially now that he got more practice. Sure, he had learned how to read during the time when he had been allowed to attend primary school, but then his aunt and Dr Green had pulled him out of school and since it had been very hard to concentrate with the Horcrux's unceasing threats and insults (not to mention all the different pills), Harry had stopped doing it.
Sometimes, though, he was too tired to focus on a book. But then the Professor would read to him, and Harry had to admit that he enjoyed this even more than reading for himself - and Harry had to admit that he might have started claiming being too tired to read for himself even when he wasn't quite as exhausted as the first times the Professor had read to him.

He wondered whether the Professor knew about this, since sometimes, he would look at Harry oddly and then start to grin when he complained about being tired. However, as Professor Snape had never told Harry off because of it he supposed that the man didn't really mind.

Well, and playing chess was also all right, though normally, the game was over rather quickly as Harry really was pants at it. To be fair, though, he had only learnt the rules of the game about three weeks ago.

"Harry, are you listening?" Professor Snape repeated.

"Huh?" Harry looked at the man blankly.

"I was asking whether you felt up to have a discussion about something rather serious tonight," Severus asked, smiling at Harry's obvious confusion.

Harry's face fell. "Can't we just read or play chess instead?" he pleaded. He really didn't want to talk about the Dursleys again.

For a brief moment, the Potion Master looked at Harry sadly. He didn't enjoy making Harry talk about his relatives or the things he had had to endure at the different hospitals, but he knew that if he didn't address these issues, they would continue to haunt the child during his sleep - as the nightmares he had every other night were by no means only about the Horcrux.

"I don't want you to talk about your relatives or the hospital, Harry, not tonight."

Harry relaxed. "Oh, then it's all right, I think."

"I have been wondering whether it would be all right with you if, in a few weeks time, two other people would join us," Severus explained.

"Uhm, who?" Harry asked doubtfully. He rather liked having the Professor all to himself.

"A man and a woman I knew when I went to Hogwarts. They were in my year but were attacked a few years after we left school. They never recovered and have been at St Mungo's ever since. Actually, you have already met one of them while you were there yourself, though I don't know whether you can remember it - and I cannot say whether Mrs Longbottom will recognize you either."

Harry stared into empty space for several long moments. The Professor's words were stirring something in his mind, but every time he thought he knew what it was, it seemed to slip away from him. Then, the fuzzy image of a woman who looked old and young at the same time sitting next to him and humming a soft tune came to his mind. "Neville's mum!" Harry breathed.

"You remember her?" Severus asked sharply.

"Uhm not really, I think... there is just... there was someone, a woman. I don't know much more, though," Harry tried to explain. The longer her thought about it, the more he remembered about the magical hospital he had been admitted to a few weeks prior. The pain. The loneliness. The fear.

It became more an more difficult to breathe. "Please Professor, I don't want to think about it, please make it stop!"

The rest of the evening, Harry spent crying into his Professor's robes, wishing that the feeling of utter defeat and helplessness that had resurfaced once he had remembered Neville's mum and the hospital would go away.

It was only about three weeks later - shortly after Christmas - that Frank and Alice Longbottom moved in.

Christmas had been a quiet affair. On the afternoon of Christmas eve, Ron had visited once again. The day before, it had started to snow. The two boys had spent hours building snow-wizards and running around outside so that in the evening, Harry had been so exhausted that he had fallen asleep even so the Professor has read to him and hadn't woken up until the man shook him awake well after 9 o'clock the following morning.

Then, to Severus enormous astonishment, Harry had completely ignored both the fireplace and the Christmas tree next to it that he had conjured the previous evening. When the Potion Master had enquired whether he wasn't curious about his presents, Harry had looked at him as if he wasn't sure whether the Professor was in his right mind.
When Severus had finally convinced Harry that he should have a look into the living-room, the boy had refused to do so without the man accompanying him, grabbing his hand fiercely as if he expected to find not presents but some kind of monster under the tree.

Only later Severus had learnt about Harry's previous Christmases, that he had been told to stay out of sight and not to do anything freakish or crazy so that he wouldn't spoil the holiday for his cousin.

The rest of the day had been far more pleasant, though, especially once Fawkes had showed up. The phoenix had brought a few additional presents from the Hogwarts staff both for Harry and Severus . When Harry had unpacked the headmaster's present, Severus hadn't managed to suppress a groan.

What had the old fool been thinking?! An invisibility cloak for an eleven year-old boy?!
If the man had wanted to gift Harry with something that allowed the boy to feel a closer connection to his parents, why hadn't he joined Minerva and Hagrid and added a few pictures to the photo album the two of them had sent Harry!? No, it had to be a cloak that no responsible adult would leave in the possession of a child!

Fortunately, Harry hadn't thrown a tantrum (or even objected at all, that was) when the Potion Master had suggested that it might be better if he kept the cloak until Harry was older. However, Harry's apparent fascination with the strange piece of cloth and his delight when he turned first his feet, than his legs and finally his whole body from the neck downwards invisible had rendered Severus temporary incapable of rational thinking and he had allowed the boy (who hadn't even asked) to use the cloak while being under supervision.

And so it was that when the Longbottoms arrived via floo, a partly invisible boy sat in the living room reading an equally invisible book.

Madame Pomfrey and Dr Green accompanied the couple and got them settled.

Severus had agreed to the Longbottoms staying in the house, though he had made it clear that his prime responsibility was Harry and that he wasn't prepared to care for the two traumatized adults alone. The medi-witch and the doctor had reassured him that they didn't expect the man to do so. They just wanted a safe and secluded place for Alice and Frank to stay where they would hopefully be able to recover, at least somewhat.

Two house-elves, 'borrowed' from Longbottom manor, would stay with the couple permanently. Augusta Longbottom had, of course, been informed about the plan to remove her son and daughter-in-law from the closed ward of St Mungo's. It had taken some encouragement but finally, she had agreed to the plan.

Of course, just being out of hospital would hardly lead to a miraculous recovery. Therefore, either Poppy or Dr Green would come to see the couple at least once a day. Additionally, Poppy had (with the help of the deputy headmistress) scanned the lists of the muggleborn students that had attended Hogwarts during the last few decades.

Most of them elected to stay in the wizarding world after they had left school and hardly ever pursued a career in the world where they had grown up until their eleventh birthday. But there were always a few that were tired of having to deal with prejudices and the hostility from the purebloods and decided to return to the world of their parents.

During the last few weeks, Minerva and Poppy had searched for those witches and wizards. Once you knew the name, it wasn't all that difficult, at least if the person in question hadn't taken any magical means to hide his or her whereabouts. And while most of these muggleborns didn't have a job that seemed to be of much use for the task ahead (what, in Merlin's name, was a computer specialists or a genetic engineer anyway?), one witch, who had left Hogwarts about 40 years ago, had attracted their attention - or rather Dr Green's, as it was him the medi-witch and the transfiguration-professor had asked about what exactly the term 'neurologist' meant and what this job entailed.

According to the doctor, a neurologist was exactly what the Longbottoms might need. As a psychiatrists and therapist, he was well able to deal with the mental damage the hour-long torture certainly had inflicted, but it was quite possible that Alice and Frank had sustained some kind of brain damage, too, and this was the speciality of a neurologist.

To say Mrs Ross had been surprised when two witches - one of them being the head-girl she remembered from her days at Hogwarts - showed up on her doorstep would be an understatement. She had literally had no contact whatsoever to the wizarding world since a few years after she had left school and she couldn't even say whether her old wand was still around.
Later, she would discover that her dog had apparently found the piece of wood and decided that it was a perfect chewing toy. She didn't mind, though, it wasn't as if she planned to ever go back to that world anyway.

She had allowed the two witches - who turned out to be a healer and a professor, both working at Hogwarts - to explain why they had visited. Once she had made sure that helping the unfortunate couple wouldn't entail returning to the wizarding world for good and that things would be handled quietly, Mrs Ross had no further objections against having a look at the man and woman in question.

The fact that she wouldn't be the only muggle (as she didn't consider herself a witch any more, living without using magic or even thinking much about her years in that strange world) looking after the Longbottoms suited her just fine. If she remembered correctly, wizards could be rather arrogant and often overestimated magic while looking down on everything muggles had come up with, and if she really wanted to help the couple, that had apparently received no treatment at all for ten years, she couldn't afford fighting for every single examination or treatment that might be necessary.

Minerva and Poppy had arranged for one of them picking up Mrs Ross at New Year's Day to allow Frank and Alice a few days to settle in and get accustomed to their new surroundings. After ten years, a few more days hardly mattered.

Harry and Severus didn't get to see much of the new occupants of the house. The adults (except for Dr Green, for obvious reasons) had enlarged and transfigured a part of the first floor so that the Longbottoms had a small flat for themselves.

Harry had asked whether he could visit Alice Longbottom. The medi-witch had told him that he was more than welcome to do so in a few weeks time, but for now, he would need to wait since they didn't know how the couple would cope with the sudden transition and therefore wanted to avoid any additional stress.

When Mrs Ross came to see the Longbottoms for the first time, it was only the healer's claim that notifying the ministry about their attempts to cure the couple might not be in the Longbottom's best interest (as apparently some acquaintances of the tortures were still in power) that prevented her from demanding an immediate investigation into the conditions on the closed ward of St Mungo's.

However, she and Dr Green agreed on doing something about it once the Longbottoms were better. After all, they weren't the only ones that had been affected negatively by the lack of any real treatment the wizarding world had to offer to people like Alice, Frank or Harry. Hopefully, the changes in the Ministry of Magic would make it easier to bring the matter to the attention of the people responsible for the health system of the wizarding world.

For now, Mrs Ross and Dr Green had agreed on a course of treatment that was a combination of psychotherapy and forms of therapy that would hopefully restore the couple's ability to carry out everyday tasks like eating and taking care of their basic physical needs. With time, this might enable them to live on their own again.

Since some of the tests Dr Ross deemed necessary required equipment that she couldn't bring to the Longbottoms's current residence (and even if this was possible it would hardly provide her with adequate results as the ever-present magic of the wards of the house would certainly interfere with the delicate electronics ), several visits to the doctor's surgery were in store for the couple. But while these outings certainly would prove to be taxing for them, on the long run they would benefit from more well-directed treatment.

Harry normally hid when Mrs Ross came to see the Longbottoms. She was a doctor, after all, and he didn't really trust her not to declare him insane again. One day, however, his Professor told him about a suggestion the woman had made when learning about his damaged eye.

Professor Snape said that, if he wanted to, they could have him fitted for a glass eye and that Harry was allowed to choose all by himself whether he preferred a magical or a muggle one.

Of course, this had led to a lengthy discussion about what a magical glass eye could do and whether Harry really was allowed to choose any extras he wanted to. In the end, Severus almost wished he hadn't told the child about the magical version of glass eyes.

Harry, however, once again surprised his guardian (who resolved on finally getting accustomed to the fact that even now, with the Horcrux gone, Harry was hardly a typical child) when he agreed that he didn't really need an eye that allowed him to see through people's clothes or record everything that he was seeing or even one that would enable him to see magic.

Sure, a glass eye with an inbuilt recoding-device would mean that he never, ever had to learn for tests or exams again (since he could just have a glimpse into the relevant lesson), but Harry liked learning and getting praise from his guardian for having remembered something correctly. If he had such an eye, everyone would just assume that he had cheated and no one would compliment him any more, even if he never used the eye.

Madame Pomfrey promised him to speak to a colleague of her working at St Mungo's about a magical glass eye (without mentioning any names, of course) and Harry decided that someone who came up with such a brilliant idea couldn't be all that bad and he stopped hiding from Mrs Ross.