"Severus, please," Dumbledore petitioned.

"Why should I, Albus?" Snape fixed the older man with an unyielding glare. "Send somebody else to fetch the Potter brat."

Dumbledore sighed, "You know as well as I that the teachers have not yet returned to Hogwarts after their summer holidays. I would send Hagrid but he is… indisposed. I send him to return his new pet the to where it belongs. Which is most certainly not here."

Snape's expression did not change.

"Severus, my boy, would Lily have wanted her son to remain ignorant of his heritage? Do you?"

Something flickered in Snape's eyes before his face returned to a carefully composed mask of anger. 

Dumbledore tried one more time. Quietly, he implored, "It is his birthday, Severus."

At this Snape relented. "Fine. I'll go. But remember, that's two you owe me now. I am at Hogwarts at your bidding as well to restore the Hospital Wing's potion stock."

A pleased smile spread across Dumbledore's face. "Of course. Thank you."

Snape turned sharply on his heel and strode across to the exit of the study. He opened the core, but before leaving, he whipped around.

"Oh, and Albus?" He said sharply, "I am not doing this because it is his birthday."

And with that he was gone, his black robes sweeping silently out of the door. The ancient wizard leaned back in his chair and chuckled softly.

"Of course not," he said to no one.

---{}-{}-{}---

"Is this what I have been reduced to?" Snape muttered darkly to himself. "A human owl?"

According to the head master, several letters had been sent to the boy's muggle family, yet none had reached Potter himself. Apparently, the muggles were not receptive to owl post. Presently, Snape stood on the shore facing a small island in the distance. The wind was howling and the waves looked dangerously high. Unfortunately, Snape was forced to take a boat, as the young boy was not to be witness to magic before Hogwarts. With a scowl, he stepped into the boat that the ferryman had readied for him. Cost a fortune too, seeing as it was five minutes to midnight. Halfway to the isolated island, a large wave (about four feet by Snape's estimation) crashed violently over the bow of the small rowboat drenching everything and chilling Snape to the core.

"Stupid brat," he growled, as if this were directly the boy's fault. With a great effort of will, he resisted pulling out his wand to warm and dry himself, as there was a muggle present. He shivered and his foul mood deepened, if that were possible.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stepped foot on dry land. He instructed the ferryman to wait with the boat, well aware that this meant he still could not use magic. Snape turned and surveyed the dilapidated shack in front of him. If he was being honest with himself (which he most always was) he could not understand how it was still standing without magic. Steeling himself, and arranging his face into a mask of indifference, he knocked sharply on the door. Nothing. Again, louder this time, he knocked. Still nothing. With a resigned sigh, he pulled out his wand with the darkness as his cover and whispered, "Alohomora."

The door clicked. With a push, Snape opened it. Quite unintentionally, he must have put more force behind that than necessary, and with a resounding crash it fell fro its hinges. Snape did not acknowledge the noise, but rather, peered around the one room cabin at the four blurry figures that had just awoken with a jolt. One moved quicker than the rest, jumping up from the floor and staring straight at the potions master with piercing green eyes.

---{}-{}-{}---

On the night before his birthday, Harry Potter lay on the cold dirt floor staring at the ceiling. Drip. With a cold splash, a raindrop hit his face. He squinted at the hole in the roof as another came down. Drip. And another. With a groan, he rolled over to stare at the electric face of his cousin Dudley's brand new watch. 11:59. In one more minute, he would be eleven. Though birthdays ceased to mean much for Harry once he realized that he would never be showered with attention like Dudley, he still celebrated each one quietly; privately. 

He watched the seconds tick down.  Three, two, one. A sharp knock resounded through the cabin, with a feverish glance, he looked at the sleeping forms of his aunt and uncle. He would be in for it if they woke up. Everything out of the ordinary was somehow his fault. Harry supposed someone knocking on their door at midnight would qualify. Just when he was beginning to think had imagined the noise, there was another knock. Before he had made up his mind on what to do, he heard a click, followed moments later by a crash that topped the thunder outside. 

Harry jumped to his feet and stared in horror at the tall man dressed all in black who was framed by the doorway. His medium-length dark hair hung in clumps and dripped onto the already soaked floor. Harry could not see his face for the cabin had no electric light and the fire in the hearth had long since gone out.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to speak, another voice made him scramble to the corner in fear. More fear, in fact, than had been incited by the creepy intruder.

"THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE ANOTHER RUDDY OWL, BOY!" Uncle Vernon said furiously, tying to pull his large form up off the bed. 

Vaguely, Harry was aware of thinking that his face managed to reach an impressive shade of red very quickly for the fact that he had just woken up. 

By the time that Uncle Vernon had managed to stand, the stranger had entered  the cabin. Without preamble, he strode to the fireplace and with a few strange words and some shuffling, lit a fire. Light flooded the room and all of its inhabitants, with the exception of the newcomer, froze. Harry now had a clear view of his face. He had a sallow complexion, a long nose and dark eyes. His expression was horribly menacing. Harry now wondered which man he should fear more, this one, or his livid uncle.

"Who are you and what gives you the right to barge in here?" Vernon demanded.

His expression giving nothing away, the man answered, "My name is Professor Severus Snape, I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here for the boy." 

His piercing gaze turned on Harry, who gulped and stared resolutely at his feet.

"You can forget about that rubbish! He is not going anywhere. And he certainly will not be taught by some old coot about magi-" Snape rounded on Vernon.

---{}-{}-{}---

"Never insult Albus Dumbledore in my presence," Severus said in a deadly quiet voice. Vernon visibly paled and Snape had to strongly resist smiling. Severus turned back to the cowering child, drawing a thick envelope from beneath his cloak. He handed it to him in silence. Trembling hands reached out, and as he stared at the Hogwarts seal, and expression of disbelief stole over his face. With wide eyes, he tore it open. He read as quickly as humanly possible, and then the green eyes were raised bearing a confused but curious expression. 

"Sir, I don't understand what this means."

Snape had to give him credit; his voice never once wavered, even under Snape's most vicious glare.

"What don't you understand?" he asked in an impatient tone.

"There must be a mistake. I am not a wizard."

Snape sighed audibly. "Does it not say 'Mr. Potter' on the top of that letter?" Harry nodded. "Then you are a wizard. Of course, we have known that since the day you were born. Your parents were wizards as well."

Harry's eyes widened. "They were?" he asked. "They mustn't have been very good if they died in a car crash," he mused.

Snape's cold eyes flashed with anger and Harry flinched.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean it, sir," he stammered quickly.

"Not you, boy," the dark man snapped as he whirled around to face Vernon and Petunia. "A car crash? How could Lily Potter be killed in a car crash?" he demanded of them. Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the still frightened child. In a slightly softer voice, he said, "Lily-" he hesitated, "and James," he added with great difficulty, "were great wizards. They sacrificed themselves to save you from the most evil wizard there has ever been. Did you not know that was where you got this scar?" Snape asked, brushing away the hair obscuring the lighting mark.

"No, sir, thought it came from the crash," he responded in a quiet murmur.

The dark man straightened and turned the the boy’s guardians. “I am to take him to buy his things in the morning, however I will impose upon you no longer. Potter, come with me.” And with that, he swept his long black cape over the fallen door and out into the night.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry glanced at the blank shock on his relatives’ faces. 

“Don’t you dare follow him boy,” Uncle Vernon warned threateningly.

Looking from the roaring fire to the storm raging outside, he considered the stranger he had just met and the large red faced man who had made his life a living hell. Harry made his decision. He sat down in front of the fireplace and stared into the flames, memories flashing in his eyes. He remembered the times when his Aunt and Uncle had locked him in the cupboard and starved him and when they had made him work until his fingers bled. He stared at the burns that he had received on his hands for burning Dudley’s bacon only a few days before. Harry knew what they were capable of, and he found more fear of them in himself than of this new man. He could not go, as much as he wanted to. As much as he wanted to believe. He could scarcely imagine the hurt he would bring upon himself for disobeying, for after all, it was his fault for being a freak. The crackling of the fire filled Harry’s ears as he came to grips with the monumentous decision he had just made. He wrapped his arms around his legs and began to shiver, despite the heat radiating from the fireplace. Eyes tightly shut, he rocked back and forth gently for several long moments. At last a deadly quiet voice made him snap his head up and face the doorway.

“What have you done to him?” Snape demanded. “I said, what have you done to him?”

“Listen here, cree-” Vernon started, stepping forward in a challenge. Whatever he was going to say was cut off by Snape’s dark arm raising casually to point his wand at Petunia. A quick flash of light resulted in her carefully groomed brown hair being rearranged into something that resembled a mane and bangs. She gave a shriek and felt her head.

“Answer my question.”

Frightened now, the obese man replied, “I didn’t lay a finger on him, I swear!”

“That is not what I asked. What have you done to reduce him to this state?” Snape said slowly, as if talking to a child, and pointed in anger at the small boy who now seemed catatonic. 

Without waiting for a reply, he drug the boy up by his elbow and headed for the doorway. 

“Where can I collect his things?” he demanded.

At the hesitation from Mr. Dursley, Snape’s eyes filled with recognition. “Ah, he has none. Naturally.”

Without further ado, he led the now moving child out into the night. 

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry woke up in a full size bed covered in fluffy blankets and knew at once that something was not right. He closed his eyes and tried to remember why he was not in his cupboard under the stairs. The moment he remembered, he bolted upright and glanced around the room. It was five in the morning, the time he normally got up to do his morning chores and get breakfast ready for when his relatives got up. He wondered if he wold need to do work here, this morning. Glancing around the room, he noted the green carpeted floors and cream colored walls. It seemed pleasant enough. There was another bed across the room from his and a chair next to the wall bathed in darkness. Harry reached for his glasses, and putting them on, saw a man in the aforementioned chair. He yelped in surprise, and the man stepped out of the shadows.

“You are up, I see. A bit early for one of your age, but preferable nonetheless. Get up and dressed and we shall begone of this place,” he said dryly.

Harry did as he was told without a word and followed at the gesture to leave the room. As they began downstairs, Harry realized they were in some sort of motel. Snape carried a satchel which Harry had not seen him with the night before. Presently, he opened it, taking out a few bills handing them to a lady behind a tall desk. When they stepped onto the street, Harry decided that this had gone far enough.

“Sir?” he asked. The man ignored him. “Sir?” he tried again.

“What is it?” he snapped irritably. 

Harry flinched lightly, “I really need to be getting back, sir.”

“Back to where, might I ask?”

“To my aunt and uncle’s. If I am not there in time to make breakfast, they will be furious,” he said in a worried tone. At this, Snape’s dark eyes lowered to Harry. 

“Do not worry about them,” he stated dismissively. “Let us get some breakfast and do your school shopping,” he said with a disgusted sneer.

“Breakfast?” Harry asked in surprise. Usually he only got one meal a day, if that.

Snape bought them bagels and himself a coffee from a stand, but did not stop to eat. Instead they continued to walk until they reached a decrepit building with a sign that identified it as The Leaky Cauldron. Odd name, Harry thought. They entered the dingy place and by the time Harry’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting he realized people were staring at him. A few tentatively came up for a better look, it seemed, making Snape very irritable.

“Out of my way,” he growled, and the patrons seemed to notice for the first time that he was accompanying Harry. This garnered some very confused looks, none of which Harry noticed. As Snape fought through the crowd, dragging Harry along, Harry felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Rubbing it with his free hand, he had the strong feeling that someone was watching him. He turned curiously and found a man with a purple turban staring straight at him amongst the bustling people. Unsure of what to do, Harry gave him a small smile before being pulled away by the Professor. 

---{}-{}-{}---

Snape watched in horror as a gooey blob of fudge dropped onto the chest of the boy’s new robes. Harry had insisted that he wear them out of the store, he was so excited. Such enthusiasm wore on Snape’s nerves; and he was not trying hard to stop his disgust from showing. Snape had consented to buy him a frozen treat since it seemed the only way to making him sit still for more than a few minutes. And to get him to stop asking those infernal questions. 

“Can’t you eat a simple ice cream without getting it all over yourself?” Snape snapped. 

For the briefest of moments, hurt flickered in the child’s eyes, making Snape flinch inwardly. He had never expected to see that emotion in those eyes again. Now, however, the boy’s face smoothed into a carefully blank mask. Snape recognized that look; it was one he had mastered at the knee of his father. Or something like that. 

“Sorry, sir. I will clean it up.”

“See that you do.”

After he had finished, they headed back up the street toward Gringotts where they had stopped earlier. Snape’s dark eyes narrowed as Hagrid came out carrying a small package. He hoped that the boy had not notic-

“Who is that?” he asked, eyes wide with fear and a strange shadow of remembrance. Snape cursed quietly.

At his loud question, Hagrid turned his large head and looked down at the tiny boy next to the potions professor. 

“ ‘Arry Potter! Is tha’ you?”

He nodded silently.

“My, last I saw yer, you was a little tyke!” he exclaimed good-naturedly and muttered into his beard, “Well, still are. Need a bit o’ feedin’ up, you do.”

“Do you have a motorcycle?” Harry blurted. Snape rolled his eyes to cover his surprise. But in reality, he had gotten tired of this endless curiosity. Though why he would ask after a motorbike, Snape hadn’t the faintest idea. 

“You remember!” Hagrid turned to Snape, “He remembers!”

“I had deduced as much from your first statement,” he muttered, put off that he did not know what was going on.

Hagrid turned back to Harry, “Goodness, me manners! Forgot to int’rduce myself. I am Rubeus Hagrid, Gamekeeper and Keeper of the Keys and Grounds o’er at Hogwarts,” he said as formally as he could. Which wasn’t very. “What’re you doin’ here anyway?”

“Getting magi-” Harry stared eagerly, until Snape cut him off with a raised hand. Unintentionally, he made the tiny child flinch as if waiting to be slapped. He ignored it but lowered his hand quickly.

“May I ask what you are doing here? I thought you were...disposing of some things,” Snape raised an eyebrow. 

Hagrid hesitated. “Well Dumbledore, great man, you know,” he told Harry, “he asked me to stop by and...” he leaned in towards Snape yet seemed physically unable to reduce the volume of his voice to a whisper. Trying his best, Hagrid continued, “get the you-know-what from vault 713.” He finished with heavy implications.

Snape understood and glanced at Potter to see if he had picked up on the conversation. He apparently wasn’t as clueless as he looked and far too curious for this information to go unused.

“Come, Potter, we must get your wand,” Snape said firmly, “and get this torture over with,” he added in an undertone.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Bye,” Harry said quickly to Hagrid before jogging to catch up with Snape. 

“Stop by and visit!” Hagrid called to Harry, who thought he just might do so.

They walked until they reached a dark alley across from a shop with a decrepit sign saying “Ollivander’s”. Snape turned to Harry.

“I must meet someone, I will only be a moment. Go to the wand shop, pick a wand but do not leave until I return to fetch you. Understood?”

Harry nodded his assent. He crossed the street and entered the tiny shop. Inside, it seemed much bigger with shelves and shelves of boxes, all dusty and all unlabeled. Harry stared in fascination. A sliding ladder whipped into view rather fast with a thin, very old man hanging off of it. He squinted through his glasses. 

“Can I help you?”

“I am looking for a wand,” Harry said, stating the obvious. 

“Ah, Hogwarts, eh?”

He nodded.

Just as fast as he came, the man slid away once more. When he returned, an armful of boxes were stacked against his chest. He set them on a small, cluttered desk and opened the top one. 

“10 1/2 inches, oak, dragon heartstring,” he intoned reverently, handing the handle to Harry. 

“Uh, what do I do?” Harry asked, genuinely confused.

“Give it a whirl of course,” the old man (who Harry had to assume was Ollivander) said with a tone that implied that any idiot would know that.

Harry did as he was told, like always, and gave it a small flick. The shelf that he happened to be pointing at collapsed, spilling boxes onto the floor. Harry was horrified. He panicked.

“I- I’m sorry. There’s been a mistake, I can’t be a wizard. I need to go,” He turned to the door and remembered Snape’s instructions.

“No, no!” Ollivander called, “It is alright boy,” he said gesturing to the presently repaired shelf and replaced wands. “That just wasn’t the right wand for you. Try this one. 11 inches, holly, and...phoenix feather core.” His brow furrowed, making Harry pause. “Well, go on,” he said impatiently.

When Harry’s hand wrapped around the handle, a sharp sting shot through his forehead.   His free hand immediately went to his scar, and Ollivander’s eyes widened.

“You, you are Harry Potter, aren’t you?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement of fact. Harry noticed that the wand fit him as if it were molded for his hand.

“Yes, is that bad?”

“No, it is merely...curious.” 

Before Harry could ask what he meant by this, the door chimed. When he turned, he found a small blonde boy behind him. Not missing a beat, he said, “Hello, I am Draco Malfoy. You are?”

“Harry Potter,” he replied, accepting the handshake. 

Draco, however, did not act as Harry expected. He raised one eyebrow slightly and inclined his head. His attention then turned to Ollivander.

“I need a wand,” he said, rather rudely, Harry thought. The wandmaker did not seem perturbed, though, he simply exited down one of the far rows.

“Are you going to Hogwarts?” Draco asked as if testing him  .

“Yes, it is my first year.”

“Same. I am going to be in Slytherin,” he said proudly. “Do you know what house you’ll be in?” 

Harry hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. He decided he would ask the Professor. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Hm,” Draco grunted, almost in distaste. “Anything but Gryffindor. I’d die if I were put in with that bunch.”

Harry nodded, feeling it was safer to agree than show his ignorance. 

Draco glanced toward the door, “My father should be here any minute,” he said with a strange undertone that Harry could not place. “He’d sure love to meet you.”

Something about the way he said that made Harry nervous, and curiously enough,  he wished Professor Snape were there. He dismissed this odd thought; he had spent much of the morning thinking about how cold and distant the man seemed. 

As if summoned by thought alone, Snape chose that moment to appear. He nodded to Draco, who gave him a much too knowing smirk.  Snape gave him a dismissive sneer. Harry looked confused by this interaction, but in a display of self control, did not ask. 

“Come,” Snape ordered after paying for the wand.

Harry followed without a hesitation and together they stepped out into the street, nearly running into another blonde, this one much older and walking with a menacing cane. 

“Severus,” he greeted, without warmth.

“Lucius,” Snape retuned in a comparable tone. 

Lucius pursed his lips and looked Harry up and down. With a sneer to rival one of Snape’s, he passed them. Harry and Snape continued on without a word. Harry pulled out his letter and glanced once more at his supply list. 

“I have everything except an optional pet, can I get one of those?”

Snape tried to resist rolling his eyes, “If you must.”

They turned the corner and entered a store sporting exotic animals in the window. Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to the reptiles. He stared into the cage of a Burmese Python. It watched him intently.

“Looking for a pet?” it asked as sarcastically as a snake could.

“Yes,” Harry replied. Then turned to Snape who had been watching this short interaction with an extremely intrigued look on his face. This was the first expression that Harry had seem on him that did not stem from anger or loathing. 

Ignoring this odd look, Harry asked, “Can I get a snake?”

“Absolutely not. Can you not read? It clearly states ‘one cat, toad or owl’,” Snape replied, reverting back to his stern disposition.

“Oh,” Harry replied, saddened. He turned back to the snake, “Sorry, hope you get adopted soon. I know how you feel.” 

Harry wandered between the rows of cages and finally an odd owl caught his eye. It’s wings were almost jet black, but its head was white and had a mottled gray and white chest.

“How about this one?”

“Sensible,” Snape consented, handing Harry the money bag he had been carrying for him. 

After they had purchased the owl and exited the shop, Harry decided that it needed a name. Carmax, he decided. That sounded good.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Sir?”

“Yes?” Severus responded tiredly while walking away from the Magical Menagerie.

“What are Slytherin and Gryffindor?”

Snape sighed inwardly. It was frustrating how little this boy knew of their world. “Hogwarts was founded by four wizards: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Slytherin. They each had different ideas on who should be taught, and so each student is now sorted into a house based on their individual qualities,” he summarized briefly.

“I’d die if I were in Gryffindor,” Harry parroted.

“What?” Snape asked. Considering his parents, this was an odd thing for the boy to say. He merely shrugged and Snape let the matter drop.

“It is time to return you home.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up, wide with fear that Snape did not need to use Legilimency to see. “Please, sir! Don’t make me go back there!” He seemed on the verge of a total breakdown. “They won’t let me go to Hogwarts! I know it, and they’ll...they’ll...” he gulped as if forced to stop himself from saying something. It reminded Snape of a house elf who was forbidden to speak of his masters.

“Please,” he implored quietly.

“I will see what I can do, but I do not see many alternatives,” Snape replied.

Harry nodded, as if not truly expecting Snape to help him.

“Meanwhile, I suppose we can get a room for the night, perhaps in the Leaky Cauldron.”

He brightened slightly and seemed to compose himself a little. Then a flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks.

Snape decided he would have to contact Dumbledore tonight. He swore lightly. That old fool did not tell him about this. This emotion. Taking him shopping was bad enough, but what if he started crying? God, that would be awful. I didn’t sign up for this, Snape thought.

He led the compliant boy off, while considering how much Dumbledore owed him. He kept careful track.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Well, what would you like me to do?” Snape asked Dumbledore.

The old man reclined in his chair and joined the tips of his fingers together. 

“What do you think is best, Severus?”

Snape growled, “I do not care what you do with him! Just take him off my hands.”

“That is not what I asked. You have some...experience with this sort of situation. What do you suggest?” he replied calmly.

“I do not know.”

“Maybe he needs someone who,” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, then continued, “understands him.”

Realization flickered over Snape’s featured as he discerned Dumbledore’s meaning. That realization soon turned to anger, “Absolutely not. How could you suggest such a thing? You know what his father did to me.”

“And I know what his mother did to you as well.”

Snape sucked  in a sharp breath. “No. You figure out what to do with him. I will not be part of it.”

“Very well. I will contact a few people and owl you with instructions by morning,” Dumbledore said tiredly.

“Thank you,” Snape replied stiffly. He got up and moved to the fireplace. From a small pot on the mantle, he took a handful of dark grey powder. Throwing it with far more force than necessary, he called, “The Leaky Cauldron.” In a flash of green, he was gone.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Wake up,” a voice snapped.

Harry jolted awake, expecting, once again, to find himself in his cupboard. This time, memory returned more quickly, filling Harry with excitement. And dread. He knew that Snape wouldn’t help him, he just knew it. And now he would be sent back to the Dursleys’. He shuddered at the thought. 

“Get dressed,” Snape commanded. “We are going.”

Harry did so without complaint, and followed Snape out of the door with heavy steps. He did not ask where they were going. He knew. They passed through the empty barroom, making Harry think that it must be fairly early in the morning. Yesterday  it had been bustling with people. He supposed that breakfast again today may be too much to hope for.  Once outside, Snape instructed Harry to grab his arm. He did so and at once it felt as if Harry had been crushed into the size of a marble and then slowly released. Once he felt fully formed once again, he was forced to stagger to regain his balance. He breathed deeply several times to try and settle his stomach. Snape watched this with a sneer of disdain.

“If you feel the urge to upheave, kindly do so away from me.”

Harry considered this a challenge; he stood up straight and convinced  himself he was fine. When he did so, he realized that he was not on the lawn that he carefully maintained for the Dursleys. Instead they were facing a tall, crooked building that looked like it would fall over at the slightest breeze. The landscaping was a far sight from what he was used to; Harry leaned over to get a better look at an exotic orange flower when it hissed at him with a forked tongue. He jumped back, startled, and thought that those would make the perfect addition to the Dursleys’ flower beds.

“Oh, you must be Harry!” a woman’s voice called from a few feet to Harry’s left. He turned to find a plump, red-haired, matronly looking woman beside him. She rushed over and enveloped Harry in a hug.

“My! You’re nothing but skin and bones! Come on in, dear, the others should be getting up for breakfast soon. You’re just in time,” she said and turned to greet Snape with a simple, “Severus.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and gestured for Harry to enter the strange house. He walked into the kitchen and his eyes widened to take it all in. The floor was covered in a brilliantly colored rug that matched the wallpaper. On the stove, pots stirred themselves and a pair of tongs was flipping bacon strips on its own. Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and dishes flew to the table. Harry flinched, certain they were going to break but they didn’t. 

At that moment, a fairly tall, skinny red-head came in rubbing his eyes. He stared at Harry as if trying to comprehend a difficult math problem. Then he turned to the adjoining room.

“Oy! George! Harry Potter is in here!” he called.

A moment later, a voice sounded in response, “You’re probably sleepwalking again, you idiot.” 

The red-head in the doorway yelped, “What’d you pinch me for? Come look,” he said grumpily, rubbing a red mark on his arm. Harry did a double take as an identical boy stepped up next to the one in the doorway. Harry marveled that his face went through the same series of expressions as his brother’s before finally settling on pleased surprise.

“Blimey! Ron, get down here! It’s Harry Potter!”

“Indeed it is,” Snape agreed darkly. “I do not have time to witness the disbelief of each and every Weasley. If you’ve seen one,I daresay you have seen them all,” he said sardonically. “I am leaving,” he told Mrs. Weasley.

“Let me show you out,” she offered.

Snape inclined his head, wondering why she had offered when he was standing right next to the door. Harry looked up briefly, but did not comment or say goodbye. 

Both adults left, and Harry turned back to the grinning twins and the smaller (still red haired) boy who had joined them. The twins shared a secretive look.

“Be back in a sec, Harry,” they said in unison and dashed upstairs.

“Hello, I’m Ron,” the remaining boy introduced himself. “Those were my brothers.”

“I had guessed. I’m Harry, but I suppose you already know that,” he said, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Harry was still not used to the notion of being famous.

“How many brothers do you have?” Harry asked as he heard what sounded like a stampede of feet on the ceiling above his head.

“Five brothers, one sister. She should be around here somewhere... Ginny!” he called. 

A tiny figure slid around the corner, holding tight to the doorframe.

“Hello,” Harry said in way of greeting. Her eyes grew wide and she all but sprinted away. He looked at Ron questioningly, wondering if he did something wrong.

Ron shrugged, “She is really shy. Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively. “Sit down. So how do you like being famous?” Ron asked, teasingly.

“Well, I didn’t know I was until a few days ago,” Harry replied honestly.

“You’re joking!” Ron accused. “What, were you raised by muggles?” he scoffed.

“What are muggles?”

Ron seemed to have to decide whether he was being serious. “Non-magic folk.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was.”

“Gee, you aren’t joking are you?”

Harry shook his head. 

“My dad would love to ask you some questions, but he is at work now,” Ron supplied, pointing to a clock that hung above him on the wall. Instead of two hands, it had the faces of what Harry assumed was each Weasley. Each pointed to the place they were at the moment. Six of them were pointing at ‘home’, one was at ‘work’ and two were ‘in mortal peril’.

“In mortal peril?” Harry asked in alarm.

“Oh, those are my two oldest brothers, Bill and Charlie. Bill’s a curse breaker for Gringott’s bank; he works over in Egypt. Must be working on something tough right now,” Ron replied unconcerned. “Charlie trains dragons. Its really cool, but they can get pretty vicious.”

“Oh,” Harry replied, unsure of what to say.

“Yep.”

---{}-{}-{}---

Snape stood outside facing Mrs. Weasley. He had expected her to go into over-protective mother mode when given a new charge. Here was it’s first manifestation, it seemed.

“Why did Dumbledore send you to fetch Harry? Given your... history, it seems most unusual,” Molly mused.

“I haven’t the faintest idea. But you must bear in mind that Dumbledore’s mind works in most unusual ways. I suggest you ask him, not me.”

He turned to go. 

“Severus.”

Reluctantly, he faced Mrs. Weasley once more.

“Don’t forget, he isn’t his father. Do try to be nicer to the boy. He needs love and care, not the coldness you are so skilled at radiating,” she said earnestly.

“If he needs love and care,” he put a decent degree of disdain in those words, “you may be the one to administer it. I wish only to wash my hands of the matter.”

Before she could reply, he spun on the spot, cloak billowing, and disappeared.

Molly sighed and returned to the house.

---{}-{}-{}---

When at last, all of the Weasley children had been assembled at the table, breakfast was served. Heaping piles of potatoes, pancakes, toast and bacon filled the table, and then everyone’s plates. Harry shyly took a piece of toast.

“Oh, now, Harry, dear, you must eat more than that! Don’t be shy. They certainty aren’t,” she gestured to the twins who tried to grin without letting the potatoes fall from their overstuffed mouthes. This eased some of Harry’s tension and he allowed bacon and eggs to be added to the toast. 

“Hello, Harry, I am Percy,” the oldest boy said  formally from the head of the table. Ron snickered, earning him a look from his mother.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry replied.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, “ Now that you’ve all been introduced to Harry, I have an announcement to make.” Six rapt faces, including Harry’s, stared at her. “Harry will be staying with us for the rest of the summer.”

Grins quickly spread around the table, and none was larger than Harry’s. He would not have to go back to the Dursley’s! His spirits soared, then he hesitated. He turned to Mrs. Weasley.

“I’ll do whatever chores you want me to, ma’am. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Relax, Harry, you will be no burden, I am sure,” she said comfortingly.

Harry smiled his first genuine smile in days.

When breakfast had concluded, he was ushered into the foyer with the others. 

“Hey, Harry! You want some candy?” Fred asked.

“We found it in our room this morning, but we have lots more,” George chimed in.

“Yeah, go on, its only a peppermint,” Fred urged.

Ron and Ginny shared a look that went unnoticed by Harry.

Blindly trusting, he popped the innocent looking candy into his mouth. Immediately,  he felt an odd tingling sensation in his ears. He felt one with his hand. It felt normal. All at once, steam shot out, forcing his palm away. He pushed back with both hands in attempt to stop the steam.

“No!” George cried.

“Yeah,  I wouldn’t do that,” Fred said, much more calmly.

“Your brain might explode or something,” Ginny agreed, speaking for the first time.

Harry was force to sill his hand and let the steam empty out of his ears.

“Aye! We got the famous Harry Potter!” George said as if this was suddenly dawning on him.

Fred agreed, “Yeah, that’s one to tell Lee! Not that he’ll believe us.”

Harry suddenly felt diminished. If he was tricked that easily, he didn’t deserve to be a wizard. How could he have done the things he was famous for if he was duped by a simple candy? His feelings must have shown in his expression, for Ginny spoke up once more.

“How did he know that you two were going to be foul pranksters? He has only known you for two hours!”

Fred and George looked slightly apologetic. “Sorry, Harry,” they said together.

“ S’ okay,” he said, genuinely meaning it.

“Come on Harry, I’ll show you my room, you can sleep there,” Ron offered eagerly.

Harry agreed, glad to escape the sudden awkwardness, and followed Ron up the winding stairs to the very top. As he looked around the oddly shaped, clutter and unconventionally decorated room, he decided that he would take this over the perfect neatness of the house he had spent the past ten years in any day. 

“It’s not much, and there’s the family ghoul overhead, but...” Ron trailed off.

“I love it,” Harry said earnestly.

Ron smiled, for he knew that Harry meant it.

---{}-{}-{}---

“So, Harry, can you tell me how those hair-drying-tubes work?”

Harry never would have envisioned himself explaining the concept of hair dryers to someone who can do magic with the flick of a wand. Nevertheless, he tried to answer Mr. Weasley’s curiosity to the best of his ability.

“Well, they run on electricity-”

“Oh, that’s how you pronounce it,” Mr. Weasley said, half to himself.

“-and somehow blow hot air out the end. I’m not quite sure how that happens; something to do with a fan?” Harry guessed.

“A fan? Does that run on eklectricity too?” the older man asked eagerly.

“Now, Arthur, let the poor child eat his breakfast in peace,” Mrs. Weasley spoke up.

Harry gave her a grateful smile and started on his now cold potatoes.

“Sorry, Molly.”

The twins brought a welcome distraction as they came skidding into the room, much more awake than Harry expected. After they piled food on their plates, Fred spoke up.

“We’ve got a fun day planned Harry!” he said excitedly.

“Er, great,” he responded, unsure as to whether letting the twins plan anything was a good idea.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, you’ll have a blast!” George spoke up.

“Or something is going to blast anyway...” Fred muttered. A quick glance at his mother affirmed that she did not hear. That was probably a good thing. Ron and Ginny had already finished breakfast, so Harry went to join Ron once he cleared his second helping to satisfy Mrs. Weasley. He had gotten out his wizard chess set and was teaching Harry how to play.

“Hey, Ron? Can I ask you something?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Sure, have at it.”

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” 

“Gryffindor probably,” he replied casually, “That’s what the reset of my family has been in.” 

“Is that how it picks?” Harry inquired.

“Nah, its more about your qualities, but sometimes those run in the family. Especially with Slytherins, I think,” Ron said.

“AH!” Harry exclaimed as Ron’s knight bashed one of Harry’s pawns to pieces with its marble sword. “What was that?” 

“Wizard chess!” Ron doubled over in laughter. “You should’ve seen your face!”

Harry scowled, then put another of his pieces in harm’s way just to see it happen again. Soon, the game turned from chess to a fighting match with Ron and Harry each cheering their respective sides on. The conversation about Hogwarts was quickly forgotten.

“Ah, you see this, George?” Fred said proudly.

“Aye, I do, Fred. Our little brother has finally learned how to play a real game,” George agreed.

“Thanks, Harry,” Fred said, “You brought out the side of Ron that George and I have on all the time.” He winked. 

“Now you want to go play a real real game?”

---{}-{}-{}---

“Just kick up off the ground,” the twins encouraged.

Nervously, Harry steeled his nerves and got ready to try. He had been given a broom just moments before and was now receiving an impromptu flying lesson from all of the Weasley children but Percy. 

“But, I’ve never done this before!” he repeated again. “I thought witches on brooms was just a story up until now!”

“Never heard anything about wizards, eh?” Ron grumbled.

“Come on, Harry. You defeated You-Know-Who, surely a broom doesn’t intimidate you,” George said, in mock disappointment.

George was rewarded with a glare. Realizing that he wasn’t getting out of this, he kicked off as hard as he could from the ground and soared into the air. He was amazed by how comfortable he felt and thought himself foolish for being afraid just moments ago. He did a quick loop, then turned back to face the direction of the Weasleys. Feeling absurdly confident, he flew straight down at the twins, causing them to yelp and dive off to the sides in attempt to avoid a collision. Harry pulled up at the last moment and shot straight up, his broom completely vertical. He felt a rush of ecstasy. He was still amazed by how natural this felt.

“You can come back down now!” Ginny shouted at a surprising volume for one her size. 

Harry obeyed and came to a gentle landing that looked and felt practiced, though it was his first time.

“Wow, Harry,” Fred said with only a hint of joking in his voice, “Took Ron weeks to go more than ten feet up.”

“Hey!” Ron said indignantly.

Fred just shrugged in return, then shared a grin with George.

“Chaser you think?”

“Definitely. Too bad we haven’t got a snitch, that would’ve been great to see.”

Harry looked between them, confused, but not wanting to remind them of how little he knew of the wizarding world.

“We’ve only got four brooms though... two on two with Ginny keeping score?” 

“But I’m better than Ron!”

“Hey!” he repeated in the same tone.

“I am,” she muttered.

“We’ll just have to play two games then,” George concluded.

“Okay, let’s go!” Fred shouted as he grabbed a broom. Within seconds, he was soaring towards a field with three rings on hoops on each side. Harry wondered how he had missed those before.

He leaned over to Ron, “Uh, what am I supposed to do?” he asked with a touch of panic.

“It’s easy, we have two Bludgers, those fly around and try to knock you off your broom.” Harry visibly paled. “But don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep ‘em away from you, and mum’s good at healing.” This was little encouragement to Harry who wondered why she had acquired that skill. He tried not to think about it. “Then there is one Quaffle,” Ron continued, “It’s your job to try to get it through one of the hoops on the other side of the pitch. Really, you’re in luck, we don’t have enough people for a keeper.”

“Is that like a goalie?”

“What’s a goalie?” Ginny piped up.

“Never mind. Er, so try to get the ball through the hoop and avoid getting injured.”

“Yep, that’s about it. Got it?”

“I think so,” Harry replied, still nervous.

Together, they flew to where the twins were waiting. Ron came over to Harry and whispered, “Watch out for them, they like to play tricks.”

He then motioned for Harry to join George in the center of the pitch, while he flew to the goalposts. Ginny strode over, carrying the three balls. On the count of three, she threw them into the the air. The two medium sized ones darted around on their own, and Harry glimpsed Fred ready with a bat and hoped that Ron was too. The larger, softer looking ball seemed to be affected by gravity, unlike the other two. As it just started to fall back to the ground, Harry darted forward and swept it right out from in under George’s reaching fingers. His eyes narrowed. Now it was on. Harry instinctively rolled to the left ad was surprised at how easily that maneuver had been. He didn’t even have time to worry about falling off. When he righted himself, he found George heading for him from the right and a Bludger on his left. He dropped straight down, hoping the two would collide. George swerved just in time, but his moments of correction allowed Harry to glide toward the hoops. Just as he was pulling his arm back to throw, Fred appeared in front of him, trying to block with his arms. Harry feigned a throw, but really swept the ball down and to the right, missing Fred’s broom by inches. He then rolled and tried to repeat his dive from earlier, only this time he had to catch the Quaffle in the process. At the last moment, he prevented it from hitting the ground, pulled out of the dive and tossed it through the ring. 

Ginny shouted the new score and Harry felt pleasantly flushed with excitement. In the end, they tied with Fred and George, but Harry didn’t mind. Ron told him earnestly that that had been one of the best games they ever played. Harry felt glad that this had come so naturally, perhaps all magic would, he thought, and then people would forget he was raised by muggles.

After a lunch of cold cut sandwiches and lemonade served by Mrs. Weasley, Harry joined a second match with Ginny on his team. He offered to play beater this time, for he didn’t think she was strong enough at hit the Bludger with enough force. She knew the truth behind the offer and scoffed, but did not protest. As he hefted the bat, he realized that perhaps he wasn’t any stronger than she was. Harry felt this was harder than Chaser because his aim wasn’t very good. After a few narrow misses with Ginny, he decided, he should just try to keep it away from all of the players. He was surprised at Ginny’s skill; she was so light that the broom seemed to move if there was no one on it. Her broom did look like the nicest of the lot, though, so perhaps that was the reason. 

This time, Harry and Ginny won, though only by a margin of one point. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the success and having a lot of fun. After they introduced Harry to Exploding Snap, a card game in which the cards spontaneously explode (shocking Harry every time), it was time for dinner. Afterward, Harry laid in bed and thought back over his exciting day. He decided that it was easily the best he had ever had.

---{}-{}-{}---

The rest of the summer passed quickly for Harry, between casual Quidditch games, wizard chess, chores and learning more about wizards and magic in general. It took much convincing for Mrs. Weasley to relent and allow Harry to do the same amount of chores as the other Weasleys. He insisted that they were absolutely nothing compared to the Dursley’s and that some of them, like gardening, he even enjoyed doing. Even if he hadn’t enjoyed them, Harry decided that he would do any amount of chores necessary in order to stay at the Burrow. It had been the best summer of his life. 

During the last week of August, Mrs. Weasley announced a trip to Diagon Alley.

“We still need to get robes for Ron here, and new books for all of you. Not to mention all of the things on Ron’s first year list, like a cauldron, oh and a wand of course. Ron, why don’t you go ask Percy if he wouldn’t mind parting with Scabbers? He can be your pet, I don’t think Percy is too fond of him,” Mrs. Weasley rambled. “Anyway, we will leave tomorrow morning, by Floo of course.”

Harry and Ron sprinted up the stairs to Percy’s room. In truth, Harry almost forgot he was here, for he hardly ever came out of his room. 

“Hey, Perce?” Ron called.

A head poked out of the door.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

“Mum wants to know if you’ll let me have Scabbers.”

“Sure, take the filthy thing. I was hoping it would die soon anyway.”

Ron entered his room and gathered up the tiny rat. As Percy’s door closed behind them, Harry leaned close to get a better look at the rodent. As he did, his bangs fell away from his forehead and brushed Scabbers’ head. He squealed and squirmed, trying to get out of Ron’s grip.

“Ha, that must’ve tickled him,” Harry laughed lightly. “Come on, we can introduce him to Carmax.”

Harry started up the steps to Ron’s room.

“Assuming he doesn’t eat him that is...” Ron grumbled.

If it was possible for a rat to look more nervous than usual, this one did.

After Scabbers had been tucked safely away from Carmax in Ron’s room, the rest of the day was spent in inventory. They made numerous lists of what they needed to buy in Diagon Alley. For his part, Harry had done his shopping with Professor Snape and was simply observing the process.

Mrs. Weasley collected the lists and looked over them all.

“Tongue-tying treacle? Rhyming Raspberries? I don’t think so.”

The twins looked crestfallen and Ginny giggled.

The night passed slowly in anticipation for the outing the next day. This seemed to irritate the others, but Harry wanted to savor every moment of inclusion, for here he felt accepted and though he was excited for Hogwarts, he was also dreading it. He didn’t feel prepared to face strangers who seemed to know more about his life than he did. For the moment, however, he pushed the thought out of his mind and tried to sleep, because the sooner he fell into slumber, the sooner morning would come. 

---{}-{}-{}---

“Up! Up! After breakfast, we’re off!” Mrs. Weasley shouted through the door that closed off Ron’s room. Ron groaned and buried his face in a pillow. Harry, used to getting up early, was already in the process of pulling clean clothes on.

“Come on, Ron! Let’s go!” he said excitedly. 

Ron sat up, his red hair plastered to the side of his face. He looked around blearily, then sighed and got up to get ready. Everyone was at the table when the two came down to breakfast. Since Ron’s room was on the top floor, they had been the last to get the wake up call.

They bolted down the food set on their plates in record time. Then Ron turned to Mrs. Weasley.

“We’ll wait by the fireplace,” he said, now eager as well, and gestured for Harry to join him.

In the other room, Harry whispered, “Why the fireplace?”

Ron gave him a quizzical look. “We’re Flooing...” he said in way of explanation.

Harry stared blankly at him.

“You know, with Floo power, through the fireplace?” 

Harry’s expression didn’t change.

“You’ve never Flooed?” Ron asked. Harry shook his head. “But how’d you get here?”

“I held Professor Snape’s arm and we vanished from where we were and appeared here. Like being sucked through space or something. I didn’t like it,” Harry stated.

Ron’s eyes widened. “You apparated?” 

“Is that what it’s called?” he shrugged.

He looked as if he were going to respond when Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the room with the others in tow. Ron’s face showed lingering disbelief, but he soon let it go.

“Okay, let’s have Harry go first,” she said, taking a delicate blue porcelain dish down from the mantle. Inside was a fine gray powder. 

“Er, that’s okay, one of you can go...” Harry offered feebly.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, dear! Just take a handful of Floo powder, throw it into the fire, step in,” Harry gulped, “and say clearly ‘Diagon Alley.’ Got it? Alright, in you go.”

All eyes on him, Harry grabbed a handful of powder and threw it into the flames. They instantly turned emerald green. Taking a deep breath, he ignored his instincts and stepped directly into the flames. Interestingly enough, they weren’t hot at all. They tickled his hands, a sensation that wasn’t wholly unpleasant. 

Still nervous, Harry said in a trembling voice, “Diagonalley!”

In an instant, he was gone, hurtling through...well, he didn’t know where. Images flashed before him, like scenes from the window of a train. Harry just hoped that it would know where to stop. It did, and Harry was unceremoniously deposited on an old Indian rug. Harry coughed and wiped the ash from his eyes. He had landed on his knees, but the impact jarred the glasses from his head. He groped with his hand until he found them next to his knee. Putting them on, he realized that one of the lenses was broken. He looked around the place in which he had landed, thinking that one of the Weasleys should have come through by now. He decided that he was standing in a store, though a dark and strange one. Shrunken heads, cracked crystals and contorted artifacts littered the shelves. Idly, he ran his hand over a small plaque that identified a shriveled hand as the Hand of Glory. 

“Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers!” it claimed. 

Though Harry thought that might be something useful to have, he couldn’t imagine carrying around a human hand, or at least, that is what he assumed it was. The thought sent chills down his spine. He decided that he had to get out of this shop. Luckily, Harry did not see anyone as he hurried out the door; he didn’t want to have to explain why he was there. He himself didn’t know. He must have done something wrong in the Floo, for none of the Wealeys had shown up and he didn’t think this was a place Mrs. Weasley would send her children to. 

Harry stood on the street trying to decide the best way of reconnecting with the others. As he thought, an old witch sidled up beside him. She was bent over at an odd angle and missing so many teeth tat her smile was grisly and repulsive.

“Are you lost, dear?” she asked in a raspy voice. “I can show you the way back.”

“Uh, no thanks,” Harry said, edging away from her. He turned the other way and found a man in a similar state as the woman. 

“Need help?” he offered.

“No, I’m jus-”

A tall, dark form appeared at the edge of Harry’s vision. Through his broken lens, he could not make out any details. This person grabbed his arm with a tight grip.

“P-” the stranger began.

Harry screamed, tore away and bolted down the street, away from the dark little store.

“Potter!” a voice called sharply.

Harry slowed tentatively and glanced back. Through his good lens, he saw Professor Snape chasing after him and realized that he must have been the one who grabbed him. Harry stopped. He noticed that Professor Snape was breathing a little more heavily than usual and looked away for a moment. After he caught his breath, he turned to Harry with a sharp look to his eyes. Well, a sharper look than usual.

“What are you doing in Knockturn Alley?” He demanded.

“Sir the Floo...and the Weasleys - don’t know where...” he stammered.

“Speak clearly, boy!” Professor Snape said. Harry winced. That was one of Uncle Vernon’s favorite nicknames for him.

“I don’t know sir. I’m lost,” Harry managed.

Snape seemed to be searching his eyes.

“Come.”

Obediently, Harry followed Snape to the corner where they turned down another street. After going through a small archway and up a set of stairs, Harry was back in familiar territory. Across the way was Madam Malkin’s, and Harry knew he was back in Diagon Alley. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Severus!” a voice shouted behind them. They both turned to see Mrs. Weasley frantically hurrying toward them. The other children followed behind her and Ron looked relieved. 

Mrs. Weasley ran over and hugged Harry, before fixing him with a firm stare.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

“Sorry, ma’m,” Harry said apologetically.

“Oh, it’s not your fault, but we had no idea where it had dropped you,” she turned to Snape with a questioning but grateful look. “Thank you for bringing him back, where did you find him?”

“Knockturn Alley,” Snape said dryly.

“Brilliant!” the twins said in unison.

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes narrowed at Snape, but she stayed silent on the matter. 

“Well, thank you. Goodness knows what might have happened...” she trailed off. “Come now, let’s get started. We have a lot to buy.”

And with that, the Weasleys wandered off. Harry lingered for a moment longer than the rest. He looked up and met Professor Snape’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

The man did not respond, except to draw his wand. He pointed it at Harry’s face, startling him.

“Reparo,” he whispered. 

The glass of Harry’s left lens flowed back into a cohesive whole.

“Thanks,” he said.

Snape merely nodded, and watched Harry go.

---{}-{}-{}---

After they had purchased Ron’s wand, cauldron and everyone’s books, they headed back to Madam Malkin’s. When Mrs. Weasley requested secondhand robes, Harry was extremely uncomfortable. She had mentioned earlier that Professor Snape had left his money bag with her, which meant she knew how much gold he had. She had no idea how much was left in the vault either. From their earlier visit to Gringotts, Harry knew how rich he was in comparison. He longed to tell her to keep his whole bag; they deserved it and he didn’t need it anyway. A few times, he almost offered, but knew she would refuse. He spent a few moments thinking about how he could slip them some Galleons.

They exited the shop and went next door to stare in wonder at the new Nimbus 2000. Through the window, Harry saw a pack of stationary edged with tiny moving broomsticks. 

“Mrs. Weasley?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes, dear?”

“May I have my money bag? I’d like to buy that stationary packet,” he explained.

“Of course, here you are. We’ll wait outside,” she told him warmly.

As Harry bought the stationary, he peered into his bag. There seemed to be a good thirty Gallleons in there and some odd sickles and knuts. He took out ten and put them in his pocket.

Outside, Harry handed Mrs. Weasley back the money bag. 

“Goodness, Harry! How much stationary did you buy?” she asked teasingly.

“One pack. But I got some other things,” he lied, “but they’re surprises for Christmas.”

“I see. Starting early, huh?” she joked. “Alright, a few more stops,” she told the rest.

“So, Harry, what was Knockturn Alley like?” Fred asked in a whisper with George and Ron listening in.

“It was a bit creepy, really. I landed in some dark artifact shop.”

“Borgin and Burke’s?” George asked, and Fred shot him a look. Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded, for he thought that was the name.

“Wicked.” Fred said with feeling.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Mum would never let us go down there.”

“Don’t know why you’d want to,” Harry pointed out.

“Fred and I-” George started.

“-have a way of doing the opposite of what we’re told,” Fred finished. He gave them a wink, then began chatting loudly about broom so that Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t get suspicious.

“Need a hand with those bags, Ron?”

“Sure, thanks, Harry,” Ron replied.

“No problem. Hand me the robes, that’s the biggest bag,” Harry told him. 

Ron complied, and Harry was now carrying a large, navy blue tote bag. When nobody was paying attention to him, Harry nonchalantly slipped his hand into his pocket and transferred the coins to one of the pockets of Ron’s set of robes. He then resumed conversation with the twins, feeling pleased that he pulled it off.

They stopped by the Apothecary and a store that sold only quills; it had every color and variety that they could think of. Finally, they took the Floo back to the Burrow (which Harry pronounced slowly and clearly) and unloaded their purchases. Exhausted, Harry collapsed into his bed, a content smile on his face. He felt good, and with the exception of Knockturn Alley, had spent a day acting as if  he belonged to a normal wizarding family. Though he tried not to think about it, deep down Harry realized that he could not intrude upon the Weasleys forever. He knew that they would never be his family, but he figured that he could pretend, for a little while at least, that he was a normal, loved child. 

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry woke with a start on the morning of September first. His scar prickled and he he rubbed it with his fist. He figured that it was nothing to worry about and his mind drifted to the day before him. Hogwarts! Today was the day they were leaving! He jumped up and shook Ron to wake him up. 

“Ron,” he whined. “Get up!”

Ron woke much quicker than usual and before long they were lugging their trunks down the stairs. Harry was happy that Professor Snape had insisted on a smaller trunk than the huge one he had been eyeing. It was made of a beautiful oak, for which Harry was glad; the hard wood resisted the dings of the stairs more than he had expected. He liked the decorative designs on the sides, and for someone who had gone most of his life with little or no possessions, Harry tried his best to keep his new belongings in nice shape. 

Downstairs, Mrs. Weasley had prepared a hurried breakfast, then rushed off to help the twins who had just started packing.

“We leave in an hour!” she called.

They rushed through breakfast, then Harry repacked his trunk several times to make sure he had everything he needed. Ron ran frantically around the house grabbing random possessions and shoving them into his pockets. Meanwhile, Percy had a carefully packed trunk sitting next to him while he read a large textbook. He shot everyone passing looks of disdain, for he had been packed and ready to go for days. Harry thought that perhaps he was missing some of the excitement, and scurrying about for the last hour was just part of it.

“Here, Harry, Ron, I made you some sandwiches,” Mrs. Weasley said as she pushed bags into their hands.

“Thank you, ma’m,” Harry replied, slipping them into his pocket.

“Oh,” she said, an affectionate look on her face. She patted his cheek. “Harry, I told you that you didn’t need to call me that.”

She turned to the Weasleys that had assembled near the door.

“Okay, into the car, you lot!” she commanded.

Mr. Weasley apparated outside and pulled an old Ford Anglia out from behind the house. 

“Cool,” Ron breathed.

Harry recognized it as a strictly muggle car; he had spent many days watching the cars go down Privet Drive as he did yard work. Mr. Weasley gave them a hand with their trunks and Harry was shocked at how large the trunk was. He had never seen one up close, but it did not seem to have so much room from the outside. It was not until he opened the door to get in and found all five Weasley children spread roomily across one bench seat that he realized that magic must be involved.

“This is more spacious than I thought,” Mrs. Weasley commented. “I suppose those muggles do know what they’re doing.”

The others stifled a laugh as Mr. Weasley nodded solemnly. Harry marveled that Mrs. Weasley did not realize that this was not a normal muggle’s car. When at last they pulled up at King’s Cross station, the car was buzzing with excitement. Only Ginny looked a little down; she had another year before she started at Hogwarts. They each got a trolley and Mrs. Weasley passed out the tickets. Harry draped his cloak over Carmax’s cage, causing him to hoot in protest. As they wheeled along, Harry glanced at his ticket.

“Hang on, there’s no such thing as a Platform 9 and 3/4,” Harry said, confused.

“Sure there is,” Fred affirmed.

“Just need to know where to look,” George explained. 

This left Harry even more confused than before, but he merely scowled and kept walking.

When they reached Platform 9, Mrs. Weasley stopped them before a thick column of brick.

“Fred and George, why don’t you go first?” she suggested.

They grinned and ran full tilt at the wall. Harry braced for a sickening crash, but they simply vanished through the wall as if it were a curtain of water. When Harry and Ron were urged to go next, Harry hesitated.

“Best take it at a run as well, Harry,” Mr. Weasley suggested.

He nodded, but didn’t quite fancy the idea. Harry’s every instinct fought against him as he ran straight toward the wall which looked quite solid. He closed his eyes and turned away slightly, just before impact. He felt nothing. When Harry reopened his eyes, he found himself in an identical station to the one from which he came. The only notable difference was the people. They were dressed in long robes and large hats. Trunks, cages and bags littered the ground as parents hugged their children goodbye. Harry felt strangely lonely as he stepped to the side to join George, Fred and Ron. He watched as Mrs. Weasley and Ginny appeared, then Percy and his father.

The train was set to pull out in exactly ten minutes, so they rolled their trollies over to the train and stopped for goodbyes. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes watered as she looked at the row of them.

“I’ll miss you all so much,” she said.

Harry looked down, feeling as if he was intruding on a private moment.

“You too, Harry,” she said softly.

He looked up and could tell that she meant it. They each received a hug and kiss and then boarded the train, Ginny still pleading to go with them. Harry and Ron found an empty compartment and settled in. Ron waved out the window as the train pulled from the station and left the remaining Weasleys behind. 

Before long, the compartment door opened.

“Harry,” the blonde greeted as he stepped inside.

“Hello Draco,” Harry said cheerily, for he was in a good mood. “This is my friend Ron.”

Draco gave Ron a look of slight disgust, then held out a hand. “Draco Malfoy.”

Ron accepted the handshake without a word, looking slightly puzzled.

“You have dirt on your nose.”

“Pardon me?” Ron replied.

“I said, you have dirt on your nose,” Draco replied slowly, as if talking to a child.

“Oh,” Ron sighed and wiped his nose.

“I should be going, I just wanted to stop in and say hello. I do hope you are in Slytherin, Harry. Nice to see you again,” Draco said in parting. “And you,” he added as an after thought, nodding at Ron. He didn’t quite sound sincere.

After he had gone, Ron spoke up.

“So how’d you meet him?” Ron asked, eyes narrowing.

“In Diagon Alley, on my first trip with Professor Snape. He seemed okay,” Harry considered Ron’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

Ron shook his head. “He’ll be in Slytherin.”

“Yeah, he said as much the first time I met him,” Harry agreed, not connecting the dots.

“Not a wizard went bad that wasn’t in Slytherin. I’ve heard some things about the Malfoys...”

Harry grew quiet. After a long moment he said, “What did you hear about me before I met you?” 

“Oh, nothing bad of course-”

Harry shook his head and looked down. “That’s not what I meant. I’ll bet you didn’t hear that I was raised by muggles and didn’t even know what I had done as a baby. Or that I was practically a servant for the Dursleys. You heard things about me, but that wasn’t the whole story.”

Ron said nothing.

Harry looked him in the eye. “We should give him a chance. Of all people, I should know about being given a chance. Hogwarts is the first one I’ve ever gotten.”

Ron nodded slowly, deciding that he would, if only for Harry’s sake.

“Besides, even if he is in Slytherin, maybe we will be the ones to stop him from going bad,” Harry stated sagely.

This deep conversation was interrupted by the reopening of the compartment door.

“Have you seen a toad?” a girl with very bushy brown hair and large teeth asked.

“Er, yeah, of course,” Ron replied. “They live in the swamp near our house.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “I meant here,” she said impatiently. “Neville over there lost one.” She pointed down the aisle.

“Oh.”

“No, we haven’t seen one,” Harry answered for his embarrassed friend. “Is this your first year?”

“Yes. And you?”

“The same. I’m Harry,” he offered. Her eyes narrowed.

“Harry Potter?”

“Erm, yes,” he replied, feeling like he would have this conversation many many times.

“I’m from a Muggle family, so I didn’t learn about you until a few weeks ago,” she said, talking very fast. “But I read through all of my books and you are already in a few of them.”

“I am?” Harry asked, mortified.

She nodded.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she said. “And who are you?” she asked Ron.

“Ron Weasley.”

“You’ve got dirt on your nose.”

He groaned and tried to rub it off again with a little more success.

“I’m from a muggle...” Harry struggled over what to call them, “er, family too.”

“Really? That is surprising.”

“I know,” Harry said, thinking that perhaps he wouldn’t be so behind after all. Or at least others would be behind with him.

“Well, I’ve got a toad to look for. See you at the Sorting!” she waved goodbye and disappeared down the corridor. 

Before too long, a witch pushing a cart full of candy and snacks came shuffling down the aisle. For this Harry was glad; he was hungry and his sandwiches had gotten smashed. 

“Anything from the cart, dears?” she asked.

“No-” Ron began, but Harry interrupted him.

“We’ll take the lot!”

Minutes later, piles of treats littered the compartment. Harry picked up a small blue and gold box in the shape of a pentagon. 

“Chocolate Frog,” he read and opened the box.

As soon as he did so, a frog leapt from the package onto the window. 

“I thought it said chocolate!” Harry exclaimed.

Ron snorted. “It is chocolate! It’s just enchanted. They usually only have one good jump in them, you can probably catch it now.”

Harry did so and bit off its leg, glad that it had stopped moving. Once he had finished the whole frog, he went to toss the box away.

“Hold on, aren’t you going to get the card out?” Ron asked.

“What card?” Harry replied, looking inside the box.

“They come with collectible cards with famous witches and wizards on them,” Ron explained as Harry drew one such card out of his box. “Who’d you get?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” He said and read aloud the biography. The Dumbledore on the card moved and smiled, like Harry had seen the people in the wizarding photographs do at the Weasleys’. 

“Brilliant,” Harry breathed, as the tiny man exited the card.

“We ought to get our robes on,” Ron pointed out. “We’re almost there I think.”

Sure enough, when Harry looked out the window, he could see the outline of a small castle in the distance. They still had a ways to go, so Harry figured it was nowhere near as small as it looked from here.

After what seemed like an eternity, the train finally pulled to a stop. They were instructed to leave their luggage behind, and Harry wondered idly how it would get to the castle. They disembarked and stood on a platform swarming with students.

“Firs’ years! Over ‘ere!” A mildly familiar voice called. Harry looked toward the sound and found Hagrid holding a giant lantern and towering over the eleven year olds gathered around him.

“To the boats,” he directed.

The nervous children followed obediently as he lead the way to a dock filled with rowboats. Three students got in each, Harry was led to a boat with Ron and Draco. As soon as they were seated, the boat began to move, without instruction and without paddling. 

“Wicked,” Ron said with a grin. It was pitch black across the water as Harry gazed into the distance. He thought he saw a tentacle rise above the water, then sink below again, but dismissed it as a trick of the eyes. No tentacle could be that large. Not for the first time, Harry had difficulty grasping the fact that he was really here, going to a school for magic. The thought made him smile, and he turned to gaze at the massive castle that loomed above them, sparkling with lights. The boats docked themselves and the students climbed out onto dry land. Hagrid reappeared, lantern leading the way into the castle.

As Harry entered the great mahogany doors, he let out a gasp at the sheer size of the entrance hall that they were in. He had never been in a room so big and marveled at the high ceilings. They stopped before another set of doors and a stern looking witch with her hair in a tight bun stepped forward from the shadows.

“I am Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, you will enter the Great Hall for the sorting. Here, we will place the Sorting Hat on each of your heads and it will tell us whether you are to be in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Once you have been sorted, you will join your table for the welcoming feast. Are there any questions?” she asked.

There was silence throughout the group.

“Very well, we shall begin.” She turned on her heel and pushed open the great double doors. 

They followed her onto a raised platform in a hall that was at least three times the size of the one they had just been in. The platform held a long table, at which the professors were seated, a podium and a stool with an old tattered hat sporting a rim along the brim on top. Perpendicular to the platform were four very large tables, each with banners of different colors above them. Harry spotted the Weasley twins at the nearest table, with the red and gold banner. They winked at Harry and grinned.

The rip in the Sorting Hat’s brim opened like a mouth and it sang a song which described each house. Harry listened with interest, and decided he would be happy with any house.

“When I call your name, come to the stool and I will place the hat upon your head,” the Professor said. “Abbot, Hannah.”

A small girl nervously approached the stool. The hat sat for a moment on her head, then announced, “Hufflepuff!”

She sighed with relief and went to join the yellow and black table that was clapping loudly. Harry became lost in his thoughts of which house he would be in until “Granger, Hermione” was called.

The hat sat on her head for a long minute. Hermione had a concentrated look on her face as if she were having a conversation with it. Finally, it shouted, “Gryffindor!”

She gave a nervous smile as the table erupted in claps and the twins gave a loud whistle. More students were sorted until “Malfoy, Draco” was up.

“Slytherin!” the hat decided, after a few seconds of deliberation.

“Nott, Theodore” was sorted into Slytherin so quickly that the hat barely touched his head. He had a superior smirk on his face as he slid onto the bench beside Draco.

Finally, he heard the words “Potter, Harry.”

Silence fell in the Great Hall. All conversation had stopped as the people who had long since stopped paying attention looked to the front. Harry nervously walked to the stool, shaking slightly.

“Hmm...” a voice whispered in his ear after the hat descended on his head. “You are a difficult one. Brave, daring, but not a bad mind either. Quick thinking. You would be great in Slytherin.” Harry just wished for a place where he could belong. He secretly wanted to be in Gryffindor though, if only for his already established friendship with the Weasleys. But then there was Draco in Slytherin. “Gryffindor, eh? Fitting indeed. well, what’ll it be? Better be...GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry let his breath out in a sigh of relief and went to join the Gryffindor table. 

“We got Potter! We got Potter!” the twins chanted as people clapped and cheered.

For the first time, Harry noticed Professor Snape at the head table. Their eyes met and Harry was shocked at the hatred he found in the Professor’s glare. He looked away quickly, hoping that he did not show his surprise.

Ron joined them at the Gryffindor table along with Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and a few others. Dumbledore, a tall, elderly man with warm eyes and a long white beard, gave a quick speech that consisted of words such as “Nitwit, blubber, oddment and tweak” and left Harry wondering if he was entirely sane. Nevertheless, Harry had never seen so much food in his life and eagerly dug in. It was so delicious, that he had seconds of almost everything, and even thirds of treacle tart. He was enjoying himself so much that he did not notice the black eyes that were trying to pierce through his back.

---{}-{}-{}---

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the little brat at the Gryffindor table. He should have known that he would’ve been sorted there just like his father. And mother, he reminded himself. Still, some small part of him hoped that he had been put in Slytherin, just to see how everyone would react to their little hero being a Slytherin. He despised the prejudice. That was the only reason for the wish; or so he had convinced himself. Now, in Gryffindor, he would become just like the rest, just like his father. Arrogant, irritating and a bully. He could see it in the making. Disgusted he turned to his food and thought about his first Gryffindor potions lesson... 

---{}-{}-{}---

Snape strode into the room of Gryffindor and Slytherin first years and caused an instant silence to spread throughout the classroom simply by means of his presence.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...” Professor Snape recited in a quiet tone. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

He glared critically around the room. His eyes landed on the son of his worst enemy. If this was his lot, he might as well make it interesting.

“Potter!” Severus snapped. “Do you think you are above paying attention in my class?”

The boy hesitantly shook his head.

“Tell me, what would you get by adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Severus asked.

He could read the incomprehension in the boy’s eyes. If it were not so out of character, he would have smiled.

“I don’t know, sir,” Potter replied.

Severus smirked. “Clearly fame isn’t everything.”

“Where would you look if I told you to find me a beozar?” Severus barked.

Anger flickered behind the green eyes into which Severus stared. At last, the Potions master would get his revenge on Potter, albeit in a more roundabout way. It was nonetheless satisfying.

“I don’t know, sir,” the boy said through gritted teeth.

“What is the-”

“I don’t know!” Harry exploded. “Isn’t that obvious? Go ahead, ask all the questions you want, but the answer will still be the same. I. Don’t. Know.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. He had been hoping to get one such reaction from the boy. He had been afraid that he was as spineless as his relatives; this anger was reminiscent of his father. Which made it all the easier to take years of hatred out on the eleven year old across from him.

“Detention, Mr. Potter.”

Snape savored the boy’s face as it morphed into one of hatred. Severus turned on his heel and waved his wand at the chalkboard. Directions appeared.

“Ingredients are in the cupboard. You have one hour. Go.”

Less than a half an hour in, smoke began to rise from the Gryffindor portion of the room. Reluctantly, Severus stepped that way.

“What is this?” he snapped, seeing the useless lump of smoking metal on the table in front of a terrified round faced boy.

“Neville added his porcupine quills too early,” Ms. Granger said, speaking for the momentarily mute boy. 

Unable to resist, Severus turned to Potter stirring his potion in silence beside the incompetent boy.

“Why did you not stop him?” Severus demanded.

“I was working on my own potion, sir,” Potter responded.

“Typical Gryffindor,” Severus sneered with derision. “Self-absorbed and oblivious. Let us make that a week of detentions, shall we?”

Harry glared silently. Severus leaned down so that only the boy could hear him. “Do not worry; if you are good, I shall not owl your aunt and uncle.”

The boy’s mouth actually dropped open. For a moment, Severus wondered if he had crossed a line. Keeping his face indifferent, he straightened and walked away. 

Finally, he would get his revenge; and since James Potter was...indisposed, his son would have to do.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry sat for a moment in shock. Who replaced the potions master he had met over the summer? That man was mean, yes. Aloof, definitely. Not to mention utterly unapproachable as well, but he did not seem this cruel. Professor Snape had seemed genuinely angry at Harry’s treatment by the Dursleys on the night that he had taken Harry away; the sudden change in demeanor was frightening. Harry slowly resumed stirring his potion. Was Snape blackmailing him with threats of his aunt and uncle? 

“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione asked. 

“Yeah, fine,” Harry replied distractedly. His thoughts were spinning. If something didn’t change, this was going to be a long year.

---{}-{}-{}---

“I know, Harry, that was totally unfair,” Ron sympathized. “I mean, Hermione or I could’ve said something to Neville too, but he didn’t give us detention.” He quickly added, “Not that I want it, but...”

“It’s okay. I just wish I knew why he hated me so much... I thought that over the summer, when he was mean, that he was just like that to everyone, but now that he singled me out...” Harry mused, disturbed.

“Yeah, wonder what that’s about. Hey, isn’t it dinner time?” Ron said, sniffing the air as they headed toward the Great Hall.

Stomachs comfortably full, Harry and Ron headed back up to the Gryffindor common room. As soon as they walked in the door, they noticed a large group of first years clustered around the message board. Harry pushed his way through to get a closer look.

“FLYING LESSONS,” it announced in bold letters. Gryffindors and Sytherins would be learning together, which made Harry strangely satisfied. After all the practice at the Burrow, Harry was fairly confident in his abilities on a broom and he hoped that the lesson went smoothly.

Harry noted that Hermione looked nervous. He supposed that she had never been on a broom before, and no amount of reading can prepare for that.

“It’s not as hard as it looks,” Harry reassured her. 

“How do you know?” her eyes narrowed. “I thought you were raised by muggles.”

“I was, but I spent the last month with Ron’s family,” Harry explained. “Really, flying is great. I love it.”

She nodded, but did not look reassured.

The next day, Gryffindors gathered outside beside the Slytherins. Harry gave Draco a friendly nod as he passed the group of silver and green bedecked students.

“Alright, let’s get started here,” Madam Hooch clapped her hands. “Everyone, step up next to a broom. That’s good,” she said when they had done so. “Now hold your hand over it and say ‘up’.”

Harry’s, Ron’s and Draco’s brooms shot right up, along with a few others from each house. The remaining students, however, were having difficulties. Hermione’s broomstick refused to do anything except for roll over. Neville’s shot straight up on its bristles, smacking him between the eyes and eliciting laughter from the Slytherins. 

When at last they had mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch gave a new command.

“When I say go, you are to kick off and hover above the ground, then come immediately back down. Understand? Good,” she said, looking around at each of them.

“G-,” before she was able to finish the word, Neville’s broom had raised into the air, making him squeal and panic. 

“Ahhh,” he yelled as the broom went ten, fifteen feet into the air.

“Come down this instant!” Madam Hooch yelled at the ascending student.

Unfortunately, he obeyed, if not willingly. Neville slipped sideways off of the broom and hit the ground with a sickening crunch. 

“Oh dear,” Madam Hooch said, rushing over to him.

Neville moaned. The older lady drew her wand and levitated him.
“I am taking Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. You are to stay firmly on the ground. Anyone who deigns to do otherwise will be out of Hogwarts before he can say ‘Quidditch’, is that clear?” she demanded.

They nodded their agreement and she bustled off. Harry obediently put his broom on the ground. As he straightened, he saw Nott clutching a small, shiny ball.

“What is that?” he whispered to Ron.

“The Rememberall that Neville’s grandmum sent him. He got it this morning at breakfast,” Ron said in a pitying, resigned tone. 

Harry stepped into the knot of Slytherins. He took a deep breath; the sorting hat didn’t place him in Gryffindor for nothing. Or so he hoped.

“Give it back,” he said quietly, but firmly.

Nott smirked. “Always trying to be the hero, aren’t you, Potter?”

“Give it back, Nott,” he said more forcefully. 

“Alright,” he said easily, then grabbed a broom and took off.

Harry saw no other choice but to follow him. He started for the broom he had left behind with the Gryffindors. 

“Here, take mine,” Draco offered.

“Thanks,” Harry said and took off. As he matched Nott’s height, about twenty feet, he considered that he really, really did not want to be expelled.

“Alright,” Nott repeated. “You can have it back for your pathetic little friend,” he stated, “if you can catch it.”

He pulled his arm back and whipped it straight at a window of the castle. Harry did not know what the Remembrall was made of, but he was certain that it, if not the window as well, would break upon impact. Without hesitation, he sped off toward the ball as it got closer and closer to the window. Harry let go with one hand and reached out for it. A fraction of a second before impact, Harry snatched it out of the air and was forced to roll and turn at the same time to avoid impact.

Harry stopped in midair, holding the ball before him triumphantly and savoring the scowl on Nott’s face. He was so pleased that he did not hear the window slide open behind him.

“Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this? Ground yourself this instant and stay where you land. I will be down in a moment,” Professor McGonagall said in a stern tone.

“Yes ma’m,” Harry said, spirits sinking. He was going to be expelled. That was it; back to the Dursleys.

He landed before the Gryffindors who congratulated him, then empathized as he told of McGonagall.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Ron said encouragingly, “Fred and George have done much worse and they’re still here.”

Harry nodded numbly.

“You heard her say to stay on the ground,” Hermione piped up. “There’s no denying it; you blatantly ignored the rules,” she finished, unsympathetic.

Harry shot her a glare, “I did what was right. I have had more than my share of bullies; I stand up for people when I can,” he said hinting at an insult.

She huffed and crossed her arms. Harry figured she was just in a bad mood from her failure with the brooms, and dismissed it. Ron, on the other hand, did not.

“What’s your problem?” he demanded. “Are you a Gryffindor or not? Harry did what was right and stood up for Neville. That’s what bravery is all about.”

He looked like he was prepared to continue his rant when McGonagall stepped up between them.

“That may be, Mr. Weasley, but I cannot deny what I have witnessed,” she stated solemnly. “Come with me, Mr. Potter.”

She led him to the Potions lab and Harry’s palms clammed up. Would Snape be the one to tell him he was expelled? Why? She knocked on the door.

“Severus, may I borrow Wood for a moment?” she asked. To Harry, this sounded like a torture device.

“If you must,” he replied slowly, as always.

Out stepped a tall fifth year, who looked lean, but strong. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Oliver, I believe I have found you a Seeker,” McGonagall said proudly.

Harry’s confusion showed on his face as the older boy looked him up and down with a critical eye. 

“He has the build for it, but isn’t he a first year? They’re not allowed brooms,” he pointed out.

“I believe we can make an exception. I would really like to beat Slytherin this year,” she said, almost demanding.

“Alright, I’ll show him around,” Wood said, then turned to Harry. “Meet me at the field at 5 today, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, “But I have detention at 7.”

“Oh. Well then, maybe tomorrow would be better? Though the sooner we get you started the more time we have to train...”

“Er, um I have detention all week,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

“Who would give you a week’s worth of detention on the first day of classes?” McGonagall asked, apparently shocked.

“Professor Snape.”

“Oh,” she said, and it seemed to take a large degree of willpower for her to resist rolling her eyes. 

“Well, today then, even if it is only for a few hours,” Wood agreed.

“You are free to go, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall told him, sounding oddly sympathetic. “You as well, Wood.”

They nodded and parted ways.

---{}-{}-{}---

“You’re kidding,” Ron declared.

“He’s not,” Fred said from behind them.

“Welcome to the team,” George said.

“Thanks,” Harry replied. “I have to get down to the pitch now, see you later.”

Harry wandered down to the Quidditch pitch and arrived at 5 o’clock exactly. Wood was already there, lugging a large case to the middle of the field.

“‘ello Harry. You familiar with Quidditch?” he asked, jumping right into things.

“Mostly, but I haven’t heard of a Seeker. I’ve played Beater and Keeper before though.”

“Ah, you didn’t have a snitch then?” Wood asked.

Harry shook his head.

Wood opened the case and removed a small gold ball, decorated with delicate filigree. As he held it before his thumb and forefinger, wings unfurled from its sides. 

“This is the Golden Snitch. Catch it, and our team gets 150 points. That’s your only job, don’t worry about the Bludgers or anything else,” Oliver said.

Harry found it next to impossible to not worry about the Bludgers, but Wood waved his worries away. “The Weasley twins are more than a match for them,” he said. “Here,” he tossed Harry an old broom from storage. “I’m going to let this go and you just catch it okay?”

Harry was certainly okay with that and had a great time trying to spot the tiny snitch and then catch it. By the fifth catch however, Wood stopped him.

“You really are excellent. We might really have a chance this year,” he said earnestly. “But it’s almost seven, you should head back up to the castle.”

Harry was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. He nodded nervously.

“I’ll let you know when the next practice is,” Wood said. Harry acknowledged this and turned to leave. “Oh, Harry?”

Harry looked back at the fifth year, “Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

---{}-{}-{}---

With heavy steps, Harry descended the stairs that lead to the dungeons where he would be serving his detention. As he approached the door next to the potions classroom, he raised his hand to knock. Before he could do so, the door swung open and revealed Snape sitting at the desk in his office. 

“Enter,” he commanded.

Harry did so and the door swung closed behind him, causing his palms to break out in a cold sweat. He futilely attempted to calm himself and stood rod-straight in the center of the small room, gaze focused on the jars of random organisms lining two of the walls. His eyes caught on a grotesque face seemingly staring back at him through lifeless eyes. Thoroughly chilled, he instead turned his attention to a bottle of tiny flower petals that seemed very out of place in this dark room.

“Sit,” the Professor ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, moving to do so.

“Today is the first of your week of detentions, I assume you know why you are here?” he raised an eyebrow.

“N-” Harry hesitated and looked at the challenging face staring intensely at him. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. You will find a bucket of Streelers in the potions classroom. They are to be dissected and organs separated into separate trays. Do not touch the venom. When you are finished, return to your common room. Go.” Snape snapped, leaning back in his chair.

Harry nodded and left the classroom. With a satisfied smirk, Snape settled back to grade essays. He repressed all remorse at having set the boy on such a pointless and difficult task. He estimated that it would take him a good three hours, due to it being a rather large bucket.

“Idiots,” Snape sneered as he viscously crossed out sentence after sentence of gibberish on one essay in particular. He unrolled the parchment to see which student would soon be receiving a T. Vincent Crabbe. Not exactly surprising, Snape mused, And T for Troll does seem oddly fitting...

A knock sounded on Snape’s oaken door. 

“Enter,” he said in an irritated tone, figuring it was Potter back to complain about the amount of animals he had to dissect.

Unexpectedly, it was McGonagall who stepped in.

“Severus,” she greeted stiffly.

“Yes?” he replied, eyebrow rising expertly.

She stepped closer to his desk, “I would like to know why you have given Harry a week’s worth of detention on the first day of class.”

“He displayed a rude, arrogant and self-absorbed attitude that was not conducive to learning and, in fact, detracted from the class’s lesson,” Snape replied in a monotone, his face a blank mask.

“We both know that is not true, Severus,” McGonagall replied in a clipped tone. “I can tell you why it is that you are acting this way towards the child, though I suspect you already know.”

“Do go on,” he said in a mockingly gracious voice.

The stern professor’s eyes narrowed. “He is not his father,” she said quietly.

“Obviously.”

“Then why are you treating him like he is? Harry is only eleven, Severus! And he is a quiet, perfectly polite boy who has had a very difficult childhood,” she said. “Are you aiming to make his entire life miserable?”

Snape leaned forward and crossed his arms across the desk. “Minerva. I am treating him as I would to any student who talked back to me the way he has. There is little difference. And no, I do not intend on making his life miserable, though it shall be a challenge. Even The Boy Who Lived cannot be favored by all, he must learn character,” he paused to sneer. “And I am quite willing to teach him.”

McGonagall shook her head. “Just be fair, Severus,” she turned to leave. “And remember that he is not James.”

The door closed, leaving Snape with those words of wisdom. Barely a few second later, it reopened. Minerva’s face appeared around the corner.

“Isn’t Harry supposed to be in detention with you right now?” she asked, brow furrowed.

“Yes. He is preparing potion ingredients in the classroom.”

“But the lights are off in there,” she protested.

Snape stood in a quick, stiff movement and swept past her out the door. Within moments, he was standing in the dark potions classroom, Minerva just behind. With a wave of his wand, the room lit up, revealing it to be empty of anyone other than the two adults.

“Where is he?” Snape growled, stepping up to the table on which he had set the bucket earlier. To his shock, every Streeler had been disassembled and neat trays of organs lined table. The shells had been cleaned and set in a row beside the bucket. The venom had even been squeezed into a small vial that sat, corked and shimmering iridescently. 

“Merlin,” McGonagall breathed. “Harry did this?”

“It seems so,” Snape replied dryly, though he was still shocked. He looked at  the time; it was barely 8:45 and the boy had started at 7:00. Shaking off his disbelief, he waved almost everything away. Snape had not expected him to remove the venom, but since he did, he might as well keep it. On a whim, Snape also spared one bright orange Streeler shell. He pocketed it without knowing exactly why. Everything else was Banished.

“You purposely gave him a completely pointless task, did you not?” McGonagall accused. 

Snape did not reply. She clenched her jaw and left without another word. Alone, Snape let out a small sigh, dissatisfied with the apparent ease with which the boy performed what he had considered a trying task. Heading back to his office, Snape set to contemplating the object of tomorrow’s detention.

---{}-{}-{}---

Exhausted, Harry collapsed into bed, then glanced at the time and groaned. He rubbed his sore fingers and sat up. A small spot on his wrist burned slightly; a result of a drop of venom slipping past the edge of his glove. Sighing, he fumbled for his telescope and headed down to the common room to meet Ron. They had an astronomy lesson in twenty minutes; one that Harry was not looking forward to. After the exertion of Quidditch practice, he was tired and sore and wanted nothing more than sleep. Nevertheless, he rubbed his eyes and searched for the telltale red hair of his friend.

“Hey there, Harry,” Ron said from behind.

Harry grunted a form of greeting and they exited the portrait hole. 

“How was detention with the greasy git?”

A smile hinted at Harry’s lips. “Not horrible. I had to dismember snails. They were sort of cool to look at though. Venom was toxic,” Harry stated.

Ron’s eyes widened slightly. “Is that even allowed? I mean we’re only first years.”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t mind. It was oddly calming, really.”

Ron shook his head in disbelief. “How was Quidditch?”

“Fantastic! Wood said I was a natural.”

Talk of Quidditch carried them to the Astronomy Tower where they set up their telescopes and pulled out star charts. Harry yawned widely. He set about filling in his chart, but by the time he got to the runespoor constellation, he had lost focus. He moved his telescope to scan the grounds rather than the stars, completely forgetting about the assignment. Oddly, Professor Sinistra did not comment. Harry saw smoke rising from the chimney of Hagrid’s hut and he smiled lightly, thinking that he would need to visit sometime soon. As he swung the instrument away from the hut, his eyes caught on an odd shadow. He squinted, but could only make out a long form at the edge of the forest. It was too thin to be Hagrid, but that was the only determination he could make. Eerily, as if he knew Harry was watching, the figure slowly turned and two blood red spots appeared in the blackness, what Harry assumed was its face.

With a yell, Harry yanked his eyes away from the telescope and fell back off the stool on which he had been sitting. The class looked at him oddly, and Harry realized foggily that he had fallen asleep and had been dreaming. Embarrassed, he righted himself and found his telescope pointed toward the stars once again. Unable to resist the urge, he swung it down to the edge of the forest. Though he found nothing, Harry could not shake the chills that those blood red eyes had sent into him.

“Mr. Potter, I daresay no stars reside in the forest,” Professor Sinistra said pointedly.

“Sorry ma’m,” he said and readjusted his telescope.

Harry tried to fill in the chart, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the dream. Deciding that he would ask Ron if he could copy his later, Harry simply gazed thoughtfully into the stars for the remainder of the class.

---{}-{}-{}---

The next two days passed without excitement, as did the next detentions. Snape was not present for either, instead, a list of instructions was taped to the door and the supplies were laid out on a work station. Harry prepared more potion ingredients, a task that he did quickly and truly did not mind. 

When Harry showed up for his fourth detention, there was no note and no ingredients were laid out. Unsure of what to do, he knocked on Professor Snape’s office door.There was no answer. For whatever reason, Harry had the desire to go inside. He convinced himself that perhaps the professor had left the supplies and instructions in here, simply forgetting to move them to the other room. Following this skewed notion, Harry pushed open the door. He was surprised to find it unlocked. Tentatively, he stepped inside. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought that he saw a jar on the shelf to his right shift slightly. He whipped his head around but found nothing there. He turned his attention back to the door at the far end of the room that was slightly askew. A faint light shone from within.

Curiosity taking hold of him, Harry pushed the door open. Inside, he found Snape hunched over a small red crystal with an expression of intense concentration on his face. Around him lay a set of scales, a small cauldron and various instruments, powders and other ingredients. A large, tattered book lay open in front of Snape, who was apparently enchanting the crystal with a spell from the old book. 

Snape’s head shot up so fast that Harry did not see it move. The expression in his eyes was of the greatest degree of loathing that Harry could imagine.

“Get. Out,” he spat, as if trying to restrain himself from throttling Harry. The stone in his hand shattered, pieces of red crystal tinkling as they hit the cold stone floor. Snape stared at his now bleeding hand in horror. “NOW,” his eyes flashed dangerously. Harry sprinted away, fleeing to the relative safety of the Gryffindor common room. He huddled in front of the fire, trying unsuccessfully to remove the image of Snape’s furious face from his thoughts. It seemed permanently burned into his mind. Luckily, it was fairly late, so the common room was over half empty and no one paid any attention to Harry. No one except for Hermione. She was sitting in the chair on the other side of the fireplace; Harry had not noticed this before.

“Are you okay Harry?” she asked, concerned.

Harry merely stared at her.

“Har-” she began again, cut off by the slam of the portrait opening (and a “Oomph” that sounded from the Fat Lady).

Professor Snape stormed in, cloak billowing around him menacingly. Everyone in the room held their breath, secretly praying that he would take no notice of them. The only sound was the crackle of the fire as Snape turned his dark gaze upon Harry.

“Come.”

He turned around and swept out of the hole.

Every pair of eyes in the room was on Harry, who gulped and paled. Hermione gave him a sympathetic frown and patted his arm. Harry reluctantly got up and headed for the door. A few people whispered words of encouragement.

“Good luck, Harry,” one of the twins said.

Harry didn’t respond, but merely stepped out of the portrait. Snape was waiting for him and they began a tense, silent journey down to Snape’s office. As the door slammed closed behind Harry, Snape whipped toward him with an accusing glare.

“What were you doing in my office without invitation?” he demanded.

“I- I came for detention and there wasn’t anything there, so I thought maybe you left it in here an-” he rambled, before he was silenced by a raised hand.

“I suppose you are incapable of knocking?” he snapped sarcastically.

“I did, sir, but you mustn't of heard,” Harry protested. Snape looked unconvinced.

“Ah-” he cut off as his dark brow furrowed. “How did you get in? I had a very advanced locking spell on that door.”

Harry shot him a mildly suspicious look which was promptly ignored. “It opened right up.”

“How could that be?” Snape mused, half to himself. Thankfully, his anger was slowly leeching away as he contemplated this situation. “Did you see anything...especially odd when you came in, Potter?”

“No,” Harry answered, then caught himself. “Actually yes. I thought I saw a jar over there shift, but when I looked, there was nothing. I thought I was just jumpy.”

Snape pulled out his wand almost frantically and waved it at the door. Harry heard the click of a lock, and a mild panic grew in his chest. Luckily, Snape swept right past Harry and into the back room once more. Unsure of whether to follow, Harry simply stepped so he could see through the doorway.

Snape seemed to be checking the large book that lay upon the table, then bent to examine the floor. He cursed loudly and stood up. He waved his wand in an arc over his head and murmured an incantation. Bright blue threads spun around him, then branched out in every direction, they spun through the air, weaving themselves around anything they came in contact with, including Harry. He yelped as the twisted around him, but quickly realized that they were insubstantial and were not harming him. If he moved, they fell away, so he stayed still, not wanting to ruin the spell. He saw Snape growl loudly and raise his wand to the door. 

Harry looked toward the door, forgetting about the bands around his head which soon disappeared. He caught a glimpse of a tall, thin, cloaked figure wrapped in blue bands. Its hood was up and wand was out as it undid the lock on the door. Snape fired a spell at it which was somehow blocked inches from the figure’s back without his wand moving from the lock. Snape was forced to jerk back to avoid the rebound. During the few seconds this took, the figure had unlocked the door and slipped out, threads falling away into nothingness. Cursing again, Snape hurried out after him. Harry followed without hesitation.

As soon as he stepped into the hall, bright lights exploded behind Harry’s eyes and he collapsed.

Harry... a voice called through the darkness.

But Harry wasn’t there.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Rennervate,” Snape muttered tersely. “Rennervate.”

The boy in his arms stirred feebly. 

“Harry,” Snape said, shaking him gently. The tiny figure opened his eyes. Snape exhaled in relief upon seeing those familiar green eyes once more. He was more concerned about the boy than he thought possible, or probable. So much so, in fact, that he did not give chase after the cloaked intruder in his rush to help the boy. Unsure of what to make of this revelation, he simply picked Harry up and carried him to the hospital wing. His eyelids had fluttered closed, and Snape shook him gently to keep him from slipping into unconsciousness. 

“My! What happened here?” Madam Pomfrey said in alarm. “Well, lay him down, why don’t you?”

Snape did so. “I believe he was hit by a blasting curse.”

“It looks like it,” she said. 

Snape noted for the first time the deep cuts on the boy’s face. 

“Here,” Madam Pomfrey said, stuffing a cloth doused in potion into Snape’s hand. She then bustled to the far side of the room to dig through the medical supply cabinet. Snape stared at the rag in his hand. Taking a deep breath, and feeling horribly out of character, he dabbed at the cuts on the boy’s face. The medicine must have stung, for he immediately opened his eyes. Snape removed the rag. Harry stared at him through glazed eyes for a long moment, then relaxed as if to give him permission to continue. Snape did so and once he was finished, the wounds did not look so bad. Madam Pomfrey returned and fixed Snape with a long, considering look. 

“I can take it from here. Alert Dumbledore, if you will,” she suggested.

Snape nodded and made his exit, deeply disturbed.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry awoke to find himself in a starched white bed with bandages covering his chest and arms. 

“Ah, good morning, Harry,” a gentle voice said.

Harry sat up and found his glasses. Once donned, he found Dumbledore sitting comfortably on a cushy chair next to his bed. 

“Good morning, sir,” Harry replied.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. “Ever polite. I am glad you are okay, Harry.”

Harry nodded, “Me too.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember everything up until entering the hallway,” Harry said honestly. “Then I blacked out, I think.”

Harry recalled slipping into a dark void, or beginning to, at least. Someone called his name and he followed their voice back. Harry wasn’t sure if this was normal so he refrained from mentioning it.

“You were hit with a blasting curse, Harry, presumably from the intruder to Severus’s office,” Dumbledore explained. “We are still not sure if he meant to hit you or Professor Snape, have you any idea?”

“I wasn’t very close to the professor; he had rushed ahead of me,” Harry recalled.

Dumbledore nodded, “That is what he said as well. This leads us to believe that someone wishes you harm. You must be very careful, Harry.”

“I will, sir.”

Dumbledore smiled kindly. “Your wounds are almost healed beneath the bandages; it should not be more than a day until you are released.”

He stood and transfigured the armchair back into a standard hospital chair. “Take care, my boy.” He strode toward the door. “Oh, Harry?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do stop by and see the potions master once you are released; I believe you two should have a talk.”

“Alright, sir,” Harry said, though he did not relish the thought.

Dumbledore smiled, then left.

After lunch, Ron, Hermione and Draco stopped by for a visit.

“When I first heard that you had been attacked, Harry, well, I thought...” Hermione started then looked down as if ashamed.

“She thought that Snape did it,” Ron said, unabashed.

“No,” Harry said rather forcefully. “He was really angry, but I don’t think... I don’t think he would ever hurt me.”

Draco agreed, “Snape isn’t as bad as he looks, I have known him forever. He is friends with my father.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed, but he held back his comment. He purposefully switched the topic to homework that Harry had to catch up on. When only fifteen minutes had passed, Madam Pomfrey showed up to hurry the other students away.

“He needs his rest!” she scolded. “Or do you not want him released tomorrow?”

They grumbled but said their goodbyes and left. Harry was glad they had stopped by, for he was in better spirits now and had homework to occupy his time. Every now and then, Harry’s mind would drift back to the previous night. He remembered only pieces of what happened after the attack until he woke up the next morning. He closed his textbook and lay down. Letting his eyes fall shut, Snape’s face swam into view, looking odd for a reason that Harry could not place. He held a rag in his hand that descended toward Harry’s face as he slipped into sleep.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry wandered through the halls after his release from the Hospital Wing. He physically felt fine, although an unusual uneasiness made his stomach churn. It was in the middle of class, and though Harry had no desire to attend the last half of Charms, he also did not relish the thought of wandering the corridors. Alone. After a few minutes of deliberation and a careful gathering of his courage, Harry decided to pay a visit to Professor Snape in the hopes that he did not have a class at the moment. Harry’s steps echoed off the stone walls in the dungeon corridor, making it seem as if there was someone behind him. After the incident with the invisibility cloak, he assumed that there could be. By the time Harry had reached the potions classroom, panic had set in and he almost frantically rushed the last few feet to the door. 

“Potter,” a voice said from behind him. Harry jumped, deathly pale, and struggled to pull out his wand. “Easy, Mr. Potter. I am not about to attack you.”

Harry stopped struggling and turned to find Professor Snape. He thought he should feel relieved, but simply could not summon the emotion while standing in front of Snape’s menacing figure. Snape’s usually blank visage was currently marred by a slight furrow of the brows.

“You seem oddly on edge, Mr. Potter. Why is it that you are here?”

“I came to talk to you, but I kept hearing things and I got freaked out,” he rambled. “Do you have a class?”

“I do, in fact. A class I must get back to,” he said gesturing to the bag of what Harry assumed were potions ingredients that he was carrying. “It will be over in ten minutes. I assume you do not want to remain in the hall for that long?”

Harry shook his head, feeling embarrassed. Snape glanced around as if to find an alternative.

“You can wait in my office,” he offered. Harry did not look particularly relieved. “Do not worry; it is perfectly safe this time, I assure you.”

Snape’s wicked sneer told Harry all he needed to know. Nevertheless, he nodded and allowed himself to be escorted to Snape’s office down the hall. After a complicated string of spells were uttered by the professor, the door to his office swung open.
“Do not touch anything. I will return once my class lets out,” Snape stated, then simply closed the door on Harry.

Harry stood, glancing around the room once more. He felt like he had been in this office far too often in the past week. Harry moved to sit at the leather chair in front of the mahogany desk. As he did so, a particular book peeking out from underneath a pile of papers caused Harry to pause. It was the very same book that Harry had seen Snape reading out of on the night that he was attacked. If he recalled correctly, he had seen Snape check this once he realized there was an intruder. It must be of some importance... Harry mused. Unable to curb his curiosity, Harry considered ways of looking at the book without Snape knowing what he had done. He pulled out his wand and carefully aimed it at the bottommost section of papers. 

“Wingardium Leviosa,” Harry said while swishing and flicking his wand as he had been taught. The papers rose into the air and hovered there, directed by Harry’s wand. He gently set them down on a clear part of the desk and snatched the book up. He did not have much time left. Flipping quickly through the book, Harry had no idea what he was looking for. As he leafed through the pages, he paused on a page that sported a ragged edge that ran up the binding. A page had been torn out here, so Harry looked at the ones surrounding it for clues as to what was missing. He skimmed the page which offered no useful information, but rather was a description of a bowtruckle. Seeming quite out of place, Harry found a few lines scrawled beneath the description, near the bottom of the paper. 

“Herein is contained the only known research of the notable and most respected Nicholas Flamel, alchemist. This work has been added as a means of preserving the theory whilst barring the knowledge falling into dangerous or public hands. You are implored to guard this work and not use the information for ill or allow those who intend harm to read it. Should you attempt an evil deed using the information contained here, the results shall not be to your liking. Think well.  -Perenelle,” he read.

Harry’s mind filled with questions. Through the haze of his spinning thoughts, he heard footsteps outside the door. Hastily, he put the book back on the desk and levitated the papers to sit atop it. Harry folded his hands in his lap in attempt to look completely innocent. He donned the mask of blank indifference that the Dursley’s had taught him was the safest. The door clicked open and in stepped the tall black figure of Professor Snape. He shut the door behind him and gazed at Harry critically. Harry did not hold his gaze this time. Snape rounded the desk and sat behind it. 

“What have you come to talk about?” he asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Professor Dumbledore told me that there was stuff we had to talk about,” Harry explained.

“‘Stuff we had to talk about’? That clears it up,” Snape replied with a generous dose of sarcasm.

“What happened, sir? I think I have the right to know,” Harry ventured.

Snape sat up straight and considered the boy. Just as his gaze was becoming unsettling, he sighed. Harry was almost shocked by this outward display of emotion.

“I cannot, and will not, tell you the specifics,” Snape stated dryly. “All that I can tell you is that my office was broken into, obviously, and robbed. What the thief took was invaluable and incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. I assume that his are the wrong hands.”

Harry thought about what he had read. Almost as if reading his mind, Snape’s gaze shot toward the book. Upon seeing it there, his looked relieved, though his gaze narrowed. Harry hoped that its positioning was close enough that Snape would not notice. 

“But, sir, what about him attacking me?”

“We can only assume that he was after you rather than me. Do you know why?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Harry said.

“How much do you know of the night that your parents died?” 

“Only what you told me, sir; that it wasn’t a car crash, but that they died fighting an evil wizard,” Harry responded quietly.

Snape seemed to cringe. “Mr. Potter, your mother...and father... sacrificed themselves to save you when the Dark Lord came to kill you.”

“To kill me?” Harry asked in disbelief. “The Dark Lord? Who’s that? Is that You-Know-Who?” he asked, recalling a confusing remark by one of the Weasley twins.

“Yes, to all of your questions. As for who it is, he is the most evil wizard that this land has ever known. He wanted to kill you; tried to kill you,” Snape amended. “But somehow, you, a baby defeated him. How?” he said not with incredulity, but with a passionate thirst for explanation.

“I don’t know sir, I was a baby,” Harry said.

“Cheeky brat,” Snape sneered.

Harry ignored the insult while he puzzled over this new information.

“What was his name?”

“It is not to be said,” Snape said.

“Can you write it down?” Harry asked. “I need to know.”

“Why?” Snape asked suspiciously.

“I’m not sure, but I need this.”

Snape obliged, albeit warily. Soon, Harry held a scrap of paper with the sharp, slanted scrawl of Professor Snape’s handwriting. Voldemort. 

“Voldemort,” Harry breathed.

“Don’t say his name,” Snape growled. Harry paled and nodded. He stuffed the paper into his pocket.

“So someone is trying to kill me because I killed Vol- You-Know-Who?” Harry asked.

“That is what we presume, though I am certain they had other reasons for breaking into my office. The fact that you were there simply presented an opportunity that they could not ignore.”

“But, I was just a baby! I didn’t even know I killed him!” Harry cried indignantly.

“I know, Mr. Potter, there is no need to shout. Some were so loyal to the Dark Lord that they would have killed scores of people merely for his entertainment. They will not think twice about taking this out on you,” Snape said without emotion.

“May I go now, sir?” Harry proposed, needing to process all of this information.

Snape sneered, “Certainly.”

Harry was about to leave when he suddenly turned to look at Professor Snape.

“Professor? One more question.”

“If you must,” Snape said tiredly.

“Why do you hate me?”

At this unexpected question, the professor’s dark eyes snapped to Harry’s. They seemed to be searching to see if this was an honest question. Seeing that it was, Snape answered him.

“Because of your father.”

“What did he do?” Harry asked.

“He was my worst enemy,” Snape stated. “And he saved my life.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m glad he did.” One of Snape’s eyebrows rose. “Because you saved mine.”

And with that Harry was gone.

---{}-{}-{}---

Severus sat in front of the fire nursing a glass of firewhiskey and thinking about the conversation that he had with the Potter boy earlier that day. He had felt so stupid giving the reason for why he hated Harry, and despite the fact that Minerva had pointed the very same thing out to him only a few days before, it finally became clear how very stupid his reasoning was. Illogical, even. He was taking the sins of the father out on the son; one thing that he had loathed in his childhood.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself. 

Despite his feelings for what he himself had said, the child’s words cut Severus to the core. He drained his glass and began to pace, recalling the feeling of the total and utter destruction of his soul from that one sentence. He had been so hard on the boy, but now... That was something that Lily would have said. Perhaps that was the worst part. Furious with himself, Severus took up a quill and began grading papers, letting his guilt and remorse transform into criticism for his students. This served only as a distraction, not relief, and Severus knew that it would be a rough night. He was right.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry rose the next day and descended to the common room. Here, he found Ron already up; a rare sight. With him sat Hermione, as usual bent over a thick book. 

“Mornin’ Harry,” Ron said. “This came for you.”

Harry accepted the cream colored envelope and broke the green seal. 

“Come to my office at 7:00 tonight,” he read. “signed Professor Snape.”

Ron patted Harry on the shoulder, “Good luck, mate.”

Harry desolately sat on the couch beside Hermione who glanced up as if coming out of a trance. Harry was sure that he would be chastised for the comment he had made before leaving, though he could not work out how that was offensive.

“Come on, let’s go down to breakfast,” Hermione suggested upon seeing Harry’s expression. 

He tried to cheer up as they sat in the Great Hall drinking pumpkin juice and talking over the day’s schedule. 

“Ugh, double potions,” Ron complained as Harry’s heart sank once more. 

“Great,” he said sarcastically, losing his appetite.

“Hey, Harry!” a voice called from behind him. Harry turned to see Draco waving from near the Slytherin table. Other Slytherins shot him disgusted looks, but Draco didn’t seem to notice. Harry noted that he didn’t seem to have many friends. Feeling bad for his friend, Harry asked if Draco could join them at the Gryffindor table.

“No! Slytherins can’t sit with Gryffindors, that’s like, forbidden or something,” Ron protested.

“It is not,” Hermione stated indignantly. “There are no rules against it; in fact it should be promoted. House unity.”

“Yeah, house unity as in our house and their house,” Ron responded. “Separate,” he clarified.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Defiantly, she marched over to the Slytherin table and tapped Draco on the shoulder.

“Would you like to come sit with us?” Harry heard her ask quietly.

“Er,” Draco glanced at the glaring faces of his fellow Slytherins. “Maybe another day. Thanks, though.”

She looked slightly disappointed, perhaps hoping that he would prove Ron wrong. Hermione simply nodded and returned to the Gryffindor table, now garnering glares of her own. 

She shrugged, “It was worth a shot.”

They finished breakfast quickly, then retreated to the library. 

“Hermione, will you revise my essay?” Harry asked, needing both the help and the distraction from his brooding. 

“Sure, Harry. Which one is it?”

“Transfiguration.”

She nodded, crossing out lines with her quill. By the time she had finished, it was almost time to head out to Herbology. Deciding to get an early start on the long walk to the greenhouses, the trio gathered their books and left library. As they walked down the hallway, Harry felt something off about his surroundings. A ripple seemed to spread through the air in front of him as he ran into someone who appeared not to be there. Yelling he stumbled backwards and pulled his wand out. He did not yet know any defensive spells, so he went with an alternate mode of escape. Grabbing the robes of his oblivious friends, he pulled them into the door to his right. Shutting the door behind him with a gasp, Harry saw that Hermione had her wand out and was locking the door.  

“That probably won’t hold for long, depending... wait, what are we running from?” she asked, confused.

“Someone in an invisibility cloak. I think it’s the same person who attacked me the other day,” he explained while catching his breath. “Where are we?”

“The third-floor corridor,” Ron said shakily. “Out of bounds to those not wishing to die a horrible death.”

Harry glanced around, not seeing anything that seemed dangerous. “Maybe they were over exaggerating. It doesn’t seem that bad,” he said.

Beside him, Harry heard the murmuring of a spell. “Run!” he said urgently.

They bolted down the hallway as the lock clicked and the door was pushed open by an unseen hand. They bolted down the corridor, skidding to a stop before a door at the end. Ron frantically tried the door; it was locked.

“Alohomora,” Hermione said quickly and without hesitation. The lock clicked and they stumbled inside.

“That was close,” Harry breathed, panting.

“Uh, guys?” Ron muttered, his voice cracking. Harry saw him staring in horror at the center of the room. Following his gaze, Harry found the object of his horror. A massive three-headed dog lay sleeping in the middle of the floor. Harry estimated it’s fangs to be at least a foot long and it’s whole lead was about as big as Harry. In unison, they screamed.

Hermione fumbled for the handle as the dog raised his head, or one of them anyway. At last, her fingers found purchase and they were released into the corridor. Harry wished that he knew the spell Snape had used to make blue threads fill the air. Unsure of whether or not the invisible man was still here, they bolted to the door and stumbled out into familiar territory.

“Whaddya think yer doing?” a voice boomed.

“Hagrid,” Harry cried, so happy to hear his voice that tears almost leaked from his eyes. 

“Didn’ you hear that yer not supposed to be in there?” Hagrid asked, looking softened slightly by Harry’s warm relief. “It was an accident righ’?”

They nodded contritely. 

“All righ’ then. Run along now, don’ want you to be late.” Hagrid ushered them forth.

Greatly relieved to be back in friendly surroundings, they hurried to Herbology, discussing the recent shock they had received. 

“Ugh, did you see the drool?” Ron remarked. “Disgusting.”

“It’s teeth were huge, too,” Harry pointed out.

Hermione huffed, “Boys. Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“I was a little preoccupied with it’s three heads to see it’s feet, Hermione,” Harry retorted. Ron snickered.

Her eyes narrowed. “It was standing on a trap door, for your information,” she snapped.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized. He opened his mouth to say more, but they had arrived, late, to class. The lesson on flesh eating plants drove the situation to the edge of his mind, ready to drift back if he became unoccupied. 

Harry wondered if this had something to do with the missing pages of that book. Something to do with Nicholas Flamel. Something to do with him.

---{}-{}-{}---

As the day dragged on, the well of trepidation in Harry’s stomach grew. It was nearing 6:00 when the Gryffindors went down to dinner, and his meeting with Snape was in less than an hour. Harry didn’t eat much, though food was forced upon him. 

“Eat up, Harry,” George Weasley said. “Snape will want you nice and fat before he eats you.”

“Shut up, George,” Fred chimed in. “But really, Harry, you need to gain a little weight before the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw next week. Don’t want the wind to knock you off your broom.”

Harry took a half hearted bite of chicken simply to appease them. 

“Come to think of it, you better not have detention or...whatever it is with Snape on the night of the match. Wood would kill you,” Fred said with his usual lighthearted grin.

“If Snape doesn’t do it first,” George said.

“Oh, be quiet, the both of you! Let Harry eat in peace,” Hermione said in an annoyingly commanding voice. Fred and George shared a look.

“Trying to study, Hermione?”

“At the dinner table? No way.”

“Something is off about that sentence...”

“Yeah, that won’t do.”

“Ought to do something about it, eh Fred?”

“Definitely.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to tune out their incessant chattering. Harry, amused and grateful that the attention had been shifted from him, took this chance to take a few bites of his meal and glance around him. He was beginning to recognize a few of the people from other houses, such as Hannah Abbott from his Herbology class and- why was Parvati sitting at the Ravenclaw table? He glanced down his own table and spotted her there. Looking between the two he realized that they were twins. Idly, he wondered if they acted like Fred and George, then supposed not seeing as they had been sorted into different houses. Suddenly, Harry’s scar prickled. His head immediately snapped towards Professor Snape at the head table. He was staring at him intently.

Harry was about to alert Ron and Hermione to this occurrence, when a voice sounded from behind him. 

“M-Mr. Potter?”

Harry jumped, then turned around to face Professor Quirrell. His scar prickled even more intensely, but he shut that out of his mind.

“Yes, sir?”

“May I-I speak w-with you?” he stuttered.

“I suppose,” Harry said reluctantly. As he got up from the bench, he saw that Professor Snape had left the Head table.

Harry checked the time, “Oh, I’m sorry Professor, but I’m due for a meeting with Professor Snape in ten minutes. I’m afraid this will have to wait,” he said. “He won’t be happy if I’m late.”

“I s-see,” Quirrell said, “I hope y-you realize th-that this i-isn’t over-r.”

Harry froze, trying to discern whether or not this was meant to come out in a threatening tone. With one last nervous narrowing of the eyes, Quirrell turned on his heel and left the Great Hall. 

“Harry?” Ron prompted, breaking him from his trance. “What was that about?”

“I wish I knew,” Harry said honestly. “But I wasn’t lying, I really do need to go  meet with Snape. See you later, okay?”

“Alright,” Ron agreed hesitantly.

Harry turned to the twins, “If I’m not back by 10, send a search party, will you?”

“Will do, Harry,” they said in unison. Harry made a mental note to ask them how they managed to answer in sync.

He took his time leaving the Great Hall, though Harry realized that he only had a few minutes to reach the dungeons. In his apprehension, he stalled for time. He exited the large double doors and turned down the corridor to make his way downstairs. As he walked, he heard voices amongst the echoes of his footsteps. He stopped in his tracks, trying to discern whether or not they were in his head. It would not be surprising given the events of the past week. They rose and fell like normal voices, which comforted Harry that he was not insane.

He crept down the hallway until he reached the intersection from which the voices were coming. 

“I-I didn’t m-mean-” a voice stuttered.

“You are to stay completely clear...” Harry could not make out the sentence, for the darkly familiar voice had dropped so threateningly low that he strained to pick it up again. “-gilimens.”

There was a silence for a moment. It was broken by a ferocious growl. 

“Any particular reason you are practicing Occlumency at the moment?” Snape asked viciously. “Hiding something?”

“N-no, i-it is h-habit. Y-you have n-no r-right...” he stammered.

Snape swore, “I’ll be waiting for you to... make a mistake,” he said with slow, cold enunciation. “Then, I can assure you, I will be there to see that you are punished.”

Harry was frozen to the spot. He heard heavy footfalls coming closer. Summoning his will, he forced his stiff legs to carry him towards the dungeons at a run. Luckily, if the Dursleys had taught him anything useful, they had certainly taught him how to run and do so silently. He did not stop until he squealed to a halt in front of Snape’s door. Harry straightened his robes and tried to catch his breath. Barely a minute later, Snape came gliding down the hallway.

“Mr. Potter,” he inclined his head. Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Professor,” he replied as Snape undid the charms on his door.

“You may enter.”

Harry did as was suggested and stepped into the now familiar room. He took a seat at the chair and carefully folded his hands in his lap, trying not to be nervous. He was worried that Snape’s apparent anger at Quirrell would leak into this conversation. Harry wondered why he was here.

“I assume you are wondering why you are here,” Professor Snape said, lowering himself into the chair across from Harry.

Harry remembered the snippet of conversation he heard just moments before about thoughts. He squirmed in his chair and resolved to ask Hermione if people could read minds. 

“Potter,” he began, then scrutinized Harry closely. “What did Professor Quirrell want with you?”

“I don’t know, sir. He wanted to talk to me, but I excused myself to come down here. Thank you, sir.” 

Snape looked truly perplexed. “Whatever for?”

“For an excuse not to talk to him,” Harry replied quietly, not wanting to be seen as a coward. After all, he was a Gryffindor.

“Does he frighten you?” Snape asked with a higher level of patience than Harry would have expected from him.

“No, it isn’t that...” Harry trailed off, looking away.

“Well?” Snape snapped, shattering the illusion of patience.

Harry flinched almost imperceptibly. “Uh, well when he looks at me a certain way, or something, or maybe it’s when he is near me,” Harry struggled for words, “my scar tingles and gets itchy.”

Snape narrowed his gaze.

“It’s okay though, I can handle it,” Harry assured him quickly, as Snape looked about to yell.

Rather than yelling, Snape got up and moved to tower over Harry. His hand shot towards Harry’s face as he cringed. A flicker of hurt crossed Snape’s features. Inches from Harry’s face, the large hand stopped, then gently brushed the scar. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of icy water over Harry’s head. He gasped. A similar sensation must have shot through Snape, for he held his hand gingerly, rubbing it with its counterpart.
“Stay,” he ordered, though not particularly harshly.

He returned from the back room moments later carrying a small tin.
“Your scar is exceptionally inflamed, have you noticed?”

“No, sir, though it hurt pretty bad when he was standing right behind me,” Harry answered.

Snape nodded, “May I?”

This time, it was Harry scrutinizing Snape’s face. Slowly, he nodded.

The chilling shock did not return as Snape’s thumb smeared salve over Harry’s scar, though a soothing sensation filled his forehead. Harry smiled gratefully.

Snape returned to his seat. “You may keep that, if it bothers you again.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.

Snape merely nodded. 

“Why am I here?”

“How are your studies going?” he asked Harry abruptly.

“Fine. Well, I’m not too great at...uh potions,” Harry admitted, feeling an odd need to talk. “But you know that.”

“Indeed I do,” he said with a sneer. “I read your most recent essay.”

Harry hung his head.

“Would you like help?”

Harry’s bright green eyes met Snape’s. “Why?” he asked suspiciously. “I thought you hated me,” he accused. “Why am I really here? You are avoiding the question.”

“I don’t know,” Snape muttered softly.

Harry’s shock played on his face. He stared in silence at Snape.

“Had any other student talked to me that way, it would have earned them a week of detentions,” Snape informed Harry.

“Sorry, Professor.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“I would like that, Professor,” Harry said. “Your help, I mean.”

Expression softening ever so slightly, he said, “Very well, would you like to brew something or revise your essay?” Snape gestured to the aforementioned essay; a sheet of parchment covered from top to bottom in Snape’s green marking pen. 

“Brew something, I should think,” Harry suggested quickly.

Snape smirked. “Perhaps the Cure for Boils? Yours failed to cure...well I believe it might have caused boils.”

Harry eyed him carefully. “Was that humor?”

“Perhaps.”

Harry seemed to struggle to grasp this notion, which caused Snape’s smirk to widen.

“Come.”

Harry obediently followed Snape into the potions classroom where he was instructed to gather the necessary ingredients. He carefully laid out the porcupine quills, snake fangs and horned slugs. 

“Crush the snake fangs with the pestle, if you would,” Snape told him.

Harry did so, and once he was finished, he went to add it to the cauldron as the instructions called for. Snape stopped him before he could raise the bowl to the cauldron’s edge.

“Those are not crushed finely enough. Do you see the large chunks in here?” he asked.

Harry nodded and returned to his grinding. Once it was satisfactory, he added it to the cauldron and followed the directions, stirring, heating and adding porcupine quills. The horned slugs were next; Snape instructed him to chop them into diagonal slivers. 

Harry could feel the Potion Master’s dark eyes upon him as he chopped them quickly and efficiently. They came out perfect. 

“Where did you learn such skill with a knife?” Snape asked curiously.

“I’ve done the cooking for the Dursleys since I was eight,” Harry responded quietly. 

“Ah,” Snape said. He could sense that the boy was unwilling to speak more on the topic, so he let it drop for the time being. 

When at last they had finished, the potion was perfect. 

“Why is it that you could not perform this well in class?” Snape questioned. “You made few mistakes.”

Harry looked uncomfortable and did not speak.

“Potter, look at me,” Snape commanded. Harry glanced up. “Ah,” the professor said, understanding. “I intimidated you.”

Harry blushed and stared intently at the bubbling potion. He felt humiliated and exposed. Could Snape really read his thoughts? The notion was disturbing.

Harry stared resolutely at the cauldron, refusing to move, even when Snape beckoned. He was angry with him, and Harry’s defiant streak came out in full force.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Potter,” Snape snapped for what must have been the fifth time. “Step away from the cauldron and come back to the office.”

The boy stared intensely at the cauldron, seeming far away in his thoughts. 

“Potter.”

“Potter.”

“Potter.”

Each attempt got more desperate, annoyed and short-tempered. With an exasperated sigh, he stepped over and grabbed the small boy tightly around arm. Green eyes flashed up at him, and before he could stop it, Snape found himself using Legilimency on the boy.

Through Harry’s eyes, he saw a large round faced man, the same one that Snape remembered from the cottage during the summer. Vernon Dursley. His morbidly obese face was bright red as he screamed at Harry for missing a strip on the lawn. Quickly, the chubby hand flashed out and grabbed Harry’s arm in the same spot that Snape had grabbed it a moment ago. He could feel the pain through Harry’s mind as his iron grip tried to crush his arm. He saw an image of a discolored patch of skin that looked, and felt, far worse than an ordinary bruise. 

Snape removed his hand as if burned and stared at Harry in horror. 

“Harry,” he said, and this time got a small response; a slight tilt of the head.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” he forced the words out of his mouth, not because he didn’t mean them, but rather because they felt strange on his tongue.

Harry nodded slowly, accepting the apology. He seemed to appreciate the rareness of such an expression. 

“Will you come back to my office?” Snape asked rather than demanded. “I have something I wish to show you.”

Harry nodded again, seeming incapable of words.

---{}-{}-{}---

When they had again entered the office, Snape used his wand to unlock one of the drawers on the side of his desk. From within, he withdrew an envelope. Opening it, he removed three pictures. Harry perked up in curiosity.

“These are some pictures of your mother,” Snape said, “and me,” he added in a tone so soft that Harry did not catch it. 

Harry leaned forward with a hungry look on his face. Snape slid them over to him and then moved to stand behind him. 

“This was Lily and me as we left for our first year at Hogwarts,” He said, pointing at the wizarding photo in which a small red haired girl and dark haired, sallow looking boy hung from the window of the Hogwarts Express. They waved excitedly and grinned. Harry could not help but smile; this was his mother at his age. “I don’t know who took the picture, but they owled it to us after we arrived.”

Snape moved to point at the next one. “This was us before our first trip to Hogsmeade.” 

In this photograph, the young Snape and Lily were bundled in scarves and long cloaks, but looked flushed and eager. Lily tossed her hair over her shoulder and grinned, waving at the camera. Snape smiled lightly as he watched her wave. The scene repeated itself over again, and Harry felt that he could watch it all day.

“This is fourth year, at a Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match,” Snape said, moving on. “Gryffindor won,” he remarked, a touch bitterly.

Snape and Lily stood at the edge of the pitch as players swooped around on brooms. It seemed as if the match were over, for Harry could see spectators celebrating at the edge of the picture. Lily tossed her red and gold scarf into the air, where it was caught by a Gryffindor player. Harry could tell by his robes that he was the seeker; he had the same outfit that Harry wore. Harry watched it loop around again for a better look at the person on the broom.

“Is that...” Harry started, eyebrows furrowing.

“Your father?” Snape finished. “Yes, that is James Potter. Seeker,” he sneered.

Harry watched this photo several more times. “Are there more?” he asked.
  Snape nodded. “But you will have to earn them.” He checked the time. “You ought to be going. Would you like to do this again? I am willing to help you further in potions...or whatever else.”

Harry nodded. “I’d like that. Goodnight, professor.”

The door closed with a click.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

---{}-{}-{}---

“Hermione?” Harry asked. “I have a couple of things to ask you.”

Hermione looked up from the stack of books in front of her. Apart from Ron, who sat across from them, they were alone in the library.

“Sure, Harry.”

“Can... wizards read minds?” Harry questioned.

Hermione looked slightly troubled. “I believe there is a spell... give me a moment,” she said, heading over to a nearby shelf. As she did so, Harry scribbled words on a sheet of scrapped parchment. 

“Here it is,” she announced, heading back to the table.

Hermione laid the book down so that both Harry and Ron could look at it.

“Legilimency,” she stated, “is the reading of one’s mind. The incantation is legilimens.”

Harry shook his head, “It can’t be he-” he caught himself, for he realized that they didn’t know why he was asking. “can’t be done without a wand, can it?” Harry backtracked. 

“Actually, it can,” Hermione confirmed. “But only the most advanced and skilled witches and wizards can do it nonverbally and wandlessly. Why do you ask?”

“I heard someone mention it the other day and got curious. That’s all,” Harry lied. To distract them, he slid the paper on which he had written across the table.

“What’s this?” Ron said, speaking for the first time.

“I, er, found it in a book. What do you make of it?” He said.

“Herein is contained...” Hermione read aloud. “-Perenelle,” she finished. “Harry, what book did you find this in?” 

“A potions book...in Snape’s office,” Harry responded hesitantly.

Ron’s eyes widened.

Harry sighed. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?” he asked, directed to both of them. He had a hard time trusting people, but was trying hard to overcome his block. Regardless, he felt he needed to ask this question. 

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said solemnly. He believed her. Ron also nodded his agreement. 

“How much do you know about the night I was attacked?” he asked.

“Not much, mate. I mean, all we knew was that you were with Snape and somebody tried to do you in,” Ron said.

“Hold on,” Hermione said. She stood and cast a silencing charm around them.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “Anyway, I, uh, walked into Snape’s office while he was in the middle of something. He dropped the stone he was working on and it broke so he got really angry. I went back to the common room and you know what happened there. Then we realized that the door had been unlocked for me and Snape cast a spell that showed someone in an invisibility cloak. He escaped into the hall, then attacked me.” Harry realized how horrible he was at telling stories as the words came disjointedly out of his eleven-year-old mouth. Nevertheless, they seemed to understand what had happened; well, Hermione did anyway. 

“A stone?” she asked. “What did it look like?”

“Like.. a red crystal maybe? I didn’t get a good look,” he said. “But when we returned to the lab, Snape seemed really concerned with the stone fragments and the book that this paragraph came from.”

She looked thoughtful and reread the passage. “The pages were missing I assume?”

Harry nodded in affirmation.

“So, uh, what’s this mean?” Ron asked, trying to catch up. “Does it have something to do with the giant three-headed dog?”

“I don’t know yet,” Hermione said honestly. “I don’t see how...”

Harry remained silent, hoping that it was a good idea to trust his new friends. 

“I don’t know either, though one thing I’m sure of is that you need to get some sleep, Harry,” Ron suggested. “Big day tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Harry asked, brow furrowing.

Ron looked utterly shocked. “Your first Quidditch game!”

Harry groaned. “That’s right. I’m excited...but really nervous.”

“Don’t be, you’ll do fine!” Ron encouraged, grinning wildly.

Harry was not convinced and spent most of that night coming up with various scenarios of how this game could go horribly wrong.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry stood at the edge of the pitch with his team, ready to pass out. He was so nervous that he had barely eaten anything that morning which, on top of lack of sleep, did nothing for his energy. His eyes drifted closed while listening to Oliver’s extremely long pep talk. Fred nudged him awake.

“How can you sleep at a time like this?” he whispered jokingly.

“I’m nervously exhausted,” Harry replied, hoping that made sense.

Fred looked a little confused. “Don’t be nervous, George and I both got injured in our first game, but Pomfrey fixed us up in a day or two. How bad could it be?”

Harry thought that he had meant to sound encouraging, but it came across as quite the opposite to Harry. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t fall asleep on his broom. Harry could only imagine how badly he would get injured if that were to happen.

Wood wrapped up his talk and the team walked toward the center of the field. Harry started to follow but a hand held him back.

“Where’d you come from?” Harry asked Professor Snape. “Sir,” he added as an afterthought.

A light sneer formed on the older man’s face. “Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Wideye potion to keep you from falling asleep on your broom,” Snape stated, sneer deepening, “and crashing to your death.”

Harry’s eyes did indeed grow wide. “Is that what would happen?”

“Most likely. Unless someone is quick with their wand,” he said dryly. “Drink.”

After Harry did so, he received a nod of approval before Snape left the pitch. Harry joined his team who were preparing to mount their brooms. No one seemed to notice Harry’s delay. He soared into the air and took his position, waiting for Madam Hooch’s whistle. When it sounded, he began lapping the pitch looking for the golden snitch. 

Harry did not recognize the Ravenclaw seeker, but she was tall and thin with cropped brown hair. She eyed him appraisingly, then flew off in the other direction. Harry continued his search for the Snitch. In the background, he heard Ravenclaw score first, then two cheers from the Gryffindor fans. Snape’s potion had worked well; he felt completely alert. In fact, his senses seemed unusually heightened and he spotted the snitch a mere twenty minutes into the game.

Harry sped towards it, wind whipping at his face. He was only feet away, stretching his right arm out to snatch it up when his broom skidded to a stop. He looked down in confusion, though as he did so, it jerked so violently that Harry was thrown off. He did a somersault in the air, then fell towards the ground. He did not have time to be afraid. Only inches from the ground, Harry suddenly stopped, suspended by the ankle. Gently, he was lowered to the ground. He felt a tickling or scratching sensation on his chest. In fear, Harry scrabbled with his fingers at the spot. Tearing his shirt open, he pulled out the tiny golden snitch. Harry laughed almost maniacally.

He looked up an found people running toward him, Gryffindors screaming in triumph, and a few disappointed Ravenclaws. His eyes searched the professors’ table, pausing on two empty seats.

“Harry!” a voice cried from beside him. “We won!”

“Ron,” Hermione chastised, “that’s the first thing you say? Harry, are you alright?”

“I don’t know honestly. But we won!” Harry said, making Ron grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“That was-”

“-bloody fantastic!” George finished for his twin brother.

“I knew we had a good team this year, I just knew it,” Wood murmured, mostly to himself.

“Need a hand, Harry?” Draco offered.

“Draco!” Harry said, noticing him for the first time. He smiled.

“Nice one, Harry,” Draco said, matching his grin. He offered his hand.

Harry grasped it appreciatively, not noticing the looks they were getting from the other Gryffindors. He went to pull himself up and flinched. A small groan escaped him as he straightened. 

“You okay?” One of the twins asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “Only a little stiff.” In fact, his ankle felt both stiff and bruised. Harry wondered if the charm that caught him was meant to be put to that use.

“Good,” Fred said.

“See you in the common room, Harry,” George said with a meaningful look at Fred. They headed off towards the castle. 

“Go on ahead guys, I have to grab a few things from over there,” he gestured vaguely to the other side of the pitch near the forest.

They nodded and started off toward the castle. Harry was glad to see that Ron and Hermione walked beside Draco rather than leave him in the dust. Harry got onto his broom rather painfully, then set off towards the forest. Before he had reached the edge of the pitch, he spotted Professor Snape walking out of the forest. He landed behind one of the stands hoping that he hadn’t been seen. From there, he walked towards the professor on the ground so that it did not seem like Harry had been trying to spy, even though he had.

“Professor!” he called from a few yards away.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” he said, looking tense.

“I wanted to thank you for the potion, it helped a lot,” he said. “Was it you who stopped me from falling?”

Snape tilted his head. “It was.”

“You said that I would die if I fell off of the broom,” Harry said, confused, and almost accusing.

“Lucky for you, I am very quick with a wand,” he said in a monotone.

“Oh. Thank you, Professor,” Harry said. In a much quieter voice he continued, “that’s twice now that you’ve saved my life.”

“I am glad someone is keeping count,” he said sarcastically.

“I just want...” Harry began, “nevermind. Can I still come down tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “I will also give you something for those bruises.”

Harry looked at him curiously, “How did you know?”

Snape gave him a dark look. “I have experience,” he stated simply. “Go to your common room, I believe the celebration should be starting soon.”

“Celebration?” Harry asked curiously.

“Every time that Gryffindor wins a match, Fred and George Weasley steal food from the kitchens and an excessively loud party that lasts far past curfew ensues,” Snape stated matter-of-factly.

“Wicked!” Harry exclaimed, earning him a look. “Wait, how do you know that? I don’t think the twins would have told you,” Harry said. “Sorry.”

“The fact that I was not told something does not mean that I do not know,” he stated cryptically. “Go.”

Harry nodded. “See you tomorrow then, professor.”

Snape inclined his head.

“Thank you,” Harry said once more before walking away.

“You’re welcome, Potter,” he said quietly.

Harry flinched at being called by his last name, but figured he could address that later. Now, he had a party to go to.

Preoccupied with heading back to the castle, Harry did not notice the thin figure stalking out of the forest. Its dark red eyes bored into Harry’s back, but at such a distance, his scar didn’t prickle. It watched him until the castle doors removed the small boy from its view.

---{}-{}-{}---

True to Snape’s prediction, a party raged that night within the Gryffindor common room. Two tables had been pushed against the wall and were covered with pumpkin juice, cauldron cakes, sandwiches and all sorts of candy. When Harry arrived, everyone in the room turned to him and cheered. He smiled, trying to cover his embarrassment. In attempt to escape the wave of congratulations and hand shaking that was heading his way, Harry stepped over the the table of food. He gratefully grabbed a sandwich and a drink, hoping that if both of his hands were occupied no one would expect him to shake hands.

“Congratulations, Harry,” Percy Weasley said solemnly.

“Er, thanks,” Harry replied. “Are you okay?” An expression of superiority was etched across Percy’s face as he stood in the corner of the room.

“Of course. I simply disapprove of such antics. After all, it was merely a game, who is to say who really won or lost. Childish if you ask me. Just look at-” Percy fell into lecture mode until Harry cut him off.

“I know, just look at it all,” he agreed tiredly and moved away quickly. “Thanks for stealing the food,” Harry told Fred and George.

They attempted to look innocent and hurt. “Why do you assume it was us?”

“Professor Snape warned me that this happens after every victory. You steal food, Gryffindor has a party.”

They looked horrified. “That slimy git knows about our secret passage?” Fred asked, dumbfounded.

“But we were so stealthy!” George agreed, equally appalled. 

Harry laughed. “I feel like he knows a lot more than you give him credit for,” he said honestly. He thought it best not to mention the suspicion that Snape could read minds.

In unison, they gave an exaggerated shudder. Harry chuckled once more and stalked off to join the rest of the party.

By the time he made it up to the dormitory, it was almost midnight. He groaned, thinking that he should’ve tried to make up the sleep he had lost the night before. He was out almost before his head hit the pillow, making it seem as if Snape’s potion had effectively worn off. That night, Harry slept well, dreaming of nothing but Snitches and Bludgers with red eyes...

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry was exhausted the next morning. He sorely wished he had gone to bed earlier the night before. As he tried to stay awake throughout Professor Binns’s lecture, he found himself longing for another of Snape’s Wideye potions. Today was also double potions; a combination that Harry had previously loathed. Now, however, he didn’t feel the usual dread, though that could be accredited to his half-awake state.

Hermione nudged him in the ribs, “Pay attention, he just said this would be on the test.”

Harry groaned. “Can’t I just copy your notes?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “But if I let you copy, I’ll have to let Ron copy too.”

“Sounds good,” Ron piped up, eyes closed.

She sighed, “Fine. But the next time you decide to party late, you are on your own.”

“Thanks, ‘ermione,” Harry muttered, leaning back once more. “You’re the best.”

She softened a little and went back to taking notes on some unfortunate wizard who didn’t realize that centaurs were intelligent and tried to feed them sugar cubes. Harry woke up a little after lunch; the food gave him energy. It was fortunate that Harry had his wits about him, for Professor Quirrell approached him once again in the Great Hall. Harry had learned not to ignore the tingling in his scar and therefore had a fair amount of warning. He tried in vain to catch Professor Snape’s eye at the head table, but unfortunately, a small scuffle had broken out at the Slytherin table which currently occupied Snape’s attention.

Harry watched Quirrell sweep down the aisle toward him.

“If he takes me somewhere and I’m not back in five minutes, go tell Professor Snape, ok?” he whispered quickly to Ron, who balked. 

“Snape? Go talk to him? What are you nutters?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” Harry said firmly. “Please, Ron.”

“Alright,” Ron agreed. Harry could tell that Ron hoped he would return as much as Harry himself did.

Quirrell had reached the table. 
“Hello, Professor,” Harry said with a false cheeriness, hoping to unbalance the odd man.

“P-potter,” he stuttered, though no more than usual, “c-come with me-e.”

Harry got up with a meaningful look at Ron. He glanced once more at the head table; Snape had descended into the frenzy at the Slytherin table and was nowhere in sight. He sighed and followed the professor into the corridor.

“Where are we going, professor?” Harry asked innocently.

“Th-there i-is someone I-I would like y-y-you to meet,” he replied cryptically.

Harry estimated that they had been walking for about three minutes. Now, they stood before the great doors that led from the castle to the courtyard. Harry felt the pockets of his robe. A muggle children’s story came to mind as Harry smoothly dropped the only thing he could find, other than his wand: one of his red and gold Quidditch gloves. He hoped that Ron’s fear of Professor Snape would not deter him from delivering Harry’s distress signal.

Meanwhile, Harry stalled for time, imagining all of the things that could be done on the castle grounds with no witnesses. 

“Sir, are we going outside?” Harry asked.

Quirrell nodded. 
“I don’t have my cloak,” Harry said, rubbing his arms as if for warmth. “Can I go fetch it?”

“N-no. You d-d-idn’t need i-it at Q-quiditch,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“My robes were heavier,” Harry stated glumly, giving up on the attempt. THe air was indeed brisk as they stepped outside. By now, Harry was sure that five minutes had passed, and he hoped that rescue was on its way. Though he wished for rescue, he was reluctant to be indebted to Snape once again for saving his life. Harry hoped that it did not come to anything as drastic as that this time.

Quirrell led Harry towards the forest. They were still several yards away, though the air seemed to have a different chill to it; it was unpleasant. Harry’s breath caught in his throat and his chest seized up. He fell to the ground, gasping  and trying to get air back in his lungs. 

“What is it boy?” Quirrell snapped. Had Harry not been preoccupied, he might have noticed the lack of stutter.

“I..” Harry gasped. 

“Potter!” a voice called sharply. Some air rushed back into Harry’s lungs and he sighed as best he could in relief. “What happened?”

“S-severus,” Quirrell said, clearly surprised. “H-he j-just collapsed.”

“Why was he out here?” Snape demanded.

“I f-found him w-w-wandering, t-tried to g-get Hagrid t-to help.”

Harry, remembering what Hermione had told him of Legilimency, raised his eyes to meet Snape’s. 

---{}-{}-{}---

One look in the boy’s eyes told Severus all he needed to know.

Calmly, he asked him, “Can you stand and walk?”

The child nodded, pushing himself to his feet with a wary look at the forest. Severus noticed that the scar on his forehead was deeply inflamed. He made a mental note to check for more salve.

“Go to Hagrid’s then, it is indeed closest,” he commanded, though not harshly. He handed him his Quidditch glove. “I will join you when I am...finished here.”

The boy nodded and set off. Severus waited until he was out of sight and hearing range before turning back to Quirrell. With a quick flick of the wrist, he disarmed him. Grabbing the front of his robes, Severus lifted his thin figure into the air with ease and slammed him roughly against a nearby tree.

“What do you want with him?” he demanded, voice deadly quiet.

“N-nothing,” Quirrell stated, voice quivering.

“Drop the act, Quirrell, what do you want?”

The other man remained silent. Severus, left with no other option (not that he wished for an alternative) prepared to Legiliimize the man. It was far more effective when he used his wand; Potter’s mind was just so easy to read that he didn’t need to bother.

“Legilimens,” he incanted quietly.

Scenes of the past few minutes flashed in front of Snape’s eyes, cloudy with an uncertain fear. Severus tried to push deeper into Quirrell’s motives and inner thoughts, but an astonishingly strong barrier was put up. Something was off about it though, it did not have the same pattern as the rest of Quirrell’s mind, yet was familiar. It took Severus a long moment before he could place it.

“No,” he whispered, anger suppressed under a wave of shock.

Quirrell smiled viscously. “Yes, Severus. He has returned.”

“It can’t be...” he said in disbelief. “But where...is he in you?” Severus eyed the turban.

Quirrell laughed in Severus’s face, “Of course not, you think he doesn’t have better things to be doing than teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Severus growled, “Do you expect Dumbledore will let you stay once he hears of this?”

“He won’t,” the professor stated simply.

“Won’t he?” Severus echoed. “Who’s to say?”

“He won’t because you are currently the only one who knows. And you won’t tell him.”

“I won’t?” Snape said, chastising himself for merely echoing Quirrell’s words.

“No, because I know Harry. I know where he sleeps, what he eats, how he gets to his classes...” he hinted at a threat. “Trust me, I will know if you tell Dumbledore...And so will Harry.”

“I will never trust you,” Snape said, turning to stalk off to Hagrid’s hut. 

“Severus?” Quirrell called. “Getting soft on Harry Potter, are you? What will the Dark Lord have to say about that?”

Severus whipped around, charging back towards the sickly professor. He came within inches of his face. 

“I don’t care what he says; my loyalty to him died on the night that he did. He shall dictate my life no longer, and know that I will do everything in my power to oppose you. I know what you are planning, and it shall not succeed,” he said in an even, viscous voice. “And you shall not touch Harry Potter.”

When he turned this time, he did not stop for anything. Within minutes, he had slammed Hagrid’s door open and was looking at an odd scene. Hagrid sat at a large table across from Harry who looked like he had been shrunken. His already tiny figure looked even more so beside Hagrid’s giant bulk. Harry clutched a teacup the size of a bucket and looked to be having trouble drinking it. At any other time, this may have been an amusing sight.

“Harry, come with me,” Severus said after a moment’s pause.

Harry smiled inexplicably and exited the hut with a goodbye to Hagrid. Severus nodded to him in way of both greeting and parting and then stepped out into the open air himself. 

“Why are you smiling so ridiculously? You have practically just been kidnapped,” Severus stated, confused.

“You called me Harry.”

“That is your name, is it not?” 

“Yes,” Harry said. “But you always called me ‘Potter’. Now it’s ‘Harry’.”

Severus furrowed his brow. “Is that acceptable?”

“Preferable,” Harry responded as if trying to imitate the older man’s solemn and complex way of speech.

Severus remained quiet, still unsure of why the name by which he referred to the boy would matter. Then again, he had never exactly enjoyed being called Snivellus or Greasy Git. He didn’t mind being compared to a bad, however. This didn’t clear anything up for Severus as neither “Harry” or “Potter” were derogatory. 

Berating himself for letting his mind wander from the present situation, he scanned the lawn. Quirrell was gone. 

---{}-{}-{}---

From outside, they were forced to report directly to the potions classroom, just barely walking in before it was time to start class. All of Harry’s classmates were already there and Draco shot Harry an odd look when he walked in with Professor Snape. No one commented however, and Harry was grateful for the silencing effect that Snape’s presence had. The class went well for Harry; his potion was almost perfect. In a good mood, he packed up his belongings at the end of class.

“Do you simply wish to stay now rather than return later?” Snape asked from behind him.

“Yeah, that’d be fine,” Harry told him. “I’ll see you in the common room,” he said to Ron and Hermione who had been waiting for him.

“See you, Harry,” they said with sympathetic looks. Snape raised an eyebrow.

Once they left, Snape commented, “They seemed to feel sorry for you; what reason did you give them for coming down in the evenings?”

Harry’s cheeks reddened as he mumbled something unintelligible.

“What’s that?”

“Detention, sir,” Harry said. 

“Why do you feel the need to lie to them?” Snape asked, looking genuinely confused.

“I wasn’t sure that they’d understand,” Harry said.

“Understand what?” Snape asked, beginning to get frustrated.

“That I like having someone to talk to,” Harry spoke in a quite voice. “They certainly wouldn’t understand that the person I talk to is you. You frighten, well, just about everyone I think.”

Snape seemed pleased by this. “Do I frighten you?”

Harry gave a wry smile. “No, sir. I have lived with the Dursleys.”

Snape grunted. “Come to my office, why don’t you?”

“What happened to me earlier, Professor?” Harry asked, once they reached Snape’s office.

“It seems that you have a special connection with the Dark Lord. I would not rule out the possibility that he could have caused that reaction in you. I believe that was the plan,” Snape told him.

“For me to almost pass out?” 

“No, to take you to the Dark Lord.”

“He is in the forest,” Harry stated matter-of-factly.

“How do you know that?” Snape asked sharply.

“Because when I got near the forest, I couldn’t breathe,” he said. “And I had a dream.”

“A dream?” Snape echoed. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

Harry obediently retold the story of how he had fallen asleep on the Astronomy tower and seen a cloaked figure with red eyes on the edge of the forest. Snape looked troubled. 

“You are sure it wasn’t just a dream?” he inquired.

“Well, no sir, but it felt...different,” Harry said. So real my scar almost prickled, he refrained from adding.

Snape nodded knowingly. “Harry, I want you to stay away from Professor Quirrell.”

“He isn’t You-Know-Who.”

“And how do you know that?” Snape asked dryly.

“I don’t know how, but I can feel it. I just know,” Harry said, confused. “He doesn’t feel dark enough.”

Snape looked slightly worried. “Nevertheless, avoid him, except in class of course. Don’t ever let yourself alone with him, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, I don’t mean to take you from your studies, but would you be opposed to learning a few spells?” Snape asked.

“No, sir!” Harry eagerly replied. “Er, yes, sir. Yes, I want to learn spells!”

“I am going to teach you the basics to defend yourself until help arrives, should the situation call for it. It would be best if your opponent does not know you are capable of this; they would not expect it from one so young. Ready?”

Harry nodded.

Snape instructed him to draw his wand. He showed Harry a simple motion and once Harry had that down, he allowed him to try the spell. Snape stood across from Harry in the office, arm raised as if he were shooting a spell at Harry.

“Go ahead and disarm me.”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry said forcefully. Snape’s wand twitched, but did not leave his hand.

“Again.”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry said, this time envisioning the wand flying from Snape’s hand into his. This vision quickly turned to reality as Harry caught Snape’s wand. 

“I expected it to take more tries,” Snape noted approvingly, giving Harry an appraising look.

“What’s next?” Harry asked, excited.

“A simple stunning charm. If it comes to that, simply keep hitting him with this every time he regains consciousness until help arrives. The incantation is Stupefy.”

“Stupefy,” Harry said, testing out the pronunciation.

“This is the motion,” Snape said, demonstrating.

After practicing, Harry longed to try it out. 

“On me? Absolutely not,” Snape said in response to this request. “Just aim it at the door.”

“Won’t it hurt it?”

“No,” he replied impatiently.

Harry shrugged and sent a jet of red light toward the door. A shower of sparks resulted, though it seemed as if it stopped an inch from the wood. 

“Awesome,” Harry said, almost hoping for a fight so that he could try it out. “Can we do one more?”

“Not tonight, Pot- Harry,” Snape caught himself. Harry smiled. “Though I do have something for you.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes grew wide. He had never gotten a present in his entire life. 

“Indeed,” he said, pulling a small silver disc from his pocket. “Squeeze this three times and I will be alerted. If you are in danger, use this to summon me. It will point me towards you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said. He was delighted even though it wasn’t really a present. For a brief moment, Harry allowed himself to think that someone, even someone as emotionally distant as Snape, cared. He smiled.

---{}-{}-{}---

Time until Christmas passed quickly for Harry. Between classes, Quidditch practice and study sessions with Professor Snape, he hardly noticed that almost half of the best year of his life had gone by. One thing that Harry did realize, however, was that he was really enjoying himself here at Hogwarts. He had true friends: Ron, Hermione and even Draco. The whole lot of them had been invited down to Hagrid’s for tea and other surprises.

“What do you think he meant by ‘I have a surprise for you’?” Draco asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know. But knowing Hagrid, it’s probably something Illegal. Or dangerous,” Hermione said. They had just reached Hagrid’s door when it swung open, admitting them. 

On the large wooden table bathed in the fire’s glow sat a tiny dragon. 

Ron paled, “or both.”

“‘ello there! Come to meet baby Norb’rt, have ya? Just hatched a cupl’a hours ago,” Hagrid said cheerfully.

“Is this your surprise, Hagrid?” Harry asked.

“Yup! You like it?” 

“Er, he is fantastic,” Hermione said tentatively as smoke was released in a puff from its nostrils.

“Where’d you get a dragon egg, Hagrid?” Draco asked, honestly curious.

“Won him off a stranger down at Hog’s Head. She seemed rather glad to see it go,” Hagrid commented. He looked down at the miniature reptile with a soft look in his eyes. “Always wanted a dragon.”

“Um, Hagrid, aren’t dragons illegal?” Harry inquired.

“I dun’ know the rules, Harry. Never had an interest in law,” he stated simply, as if that released him of all guilt. “That there is and Antipodian Opaleye.”

They discussed the dragon and other trivial things for a while such as classes and the holidays coming up before Hermione voiced what they were all thinking.

“Hagrid,” Hermione implored. “You have to give him up. He is going to get a lot bigger, what are you going to do with him? Dumbledore will find out and that will be a mess. Please?” 

Hagrid stared sadly at the dragon who was currently chasing his tail. “Alrig’ but where would he go? Gotta be safe.”

“My brother Charlie trains dragons over in Romania,” Ron offered. “Maybe we could send him there?”

“Alright, you can ask him. But ‘till he responds...” Hagrid trailed off. 

“We’ll work something out then. Sorry, Hagrid, but we need to go. It’s almost curfew,” Harry said.

“Thanks fur comin’,” Hagrid said, petting Norbert with a large finger.

They trudged up to the castle in silence.

---{}-{}-{}---

“How was your weekend, Harry?” Professor Snape asked on monday evening. 

“Fine,” Harry said simply. He had grown used to the Professor’s company, and when he was not helping Harry with schoolwork, he would teach him new spells. Last week, he had decided that Harry had mastered the most basic defense skills and had rewarded him with two more photos. He sat looking at these now, one was taken at some sort of muggle festival and the other in Diagon Alley. 

“Usually you are much more talkative,” Snape noticed. “All you have to say is ‘fine’?”

“Yes,” Harry stated simply. This, however, did not appease the overly suspicious Professor Snape.

“Harry, look at me,” he said. Harry was reluctant to do so; he knew that Professor Snape had no great love for Hagrid and would probably turn him in. He thought fiercely that he could not reveal this secret. “Harry,” Snape prompted.

Slowly, thoughts whirling, he lifted his eyes to meet the professor’s. For a moment, surprise clouded Snape’s eyes. Then, Harry could feel his fierce passion falling away and found himself recalling the scene at Hagrid’s hut.

“Ah, a dragon?” Snape said disinterestedly. “How did you block me?”

Harry looked embarrassed. “I thought really hard about how you couldn’t know about Norbert. We have it under control, Hagrid is going to send him away! Please don’t turn him in!” Harry said quickly.

Snape gave Harry a look that implied he longed to roll his eyes. “I will not. Though I do have my suspicions about the origins of the egg. They aren’t common and for someone to just give one away...Hagrid said he won it?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, relieved. 

“He must have had something the stranger wanted dearly in return...I suppose you would not say no to visiting Hagrid now?” Snape asked.

“No, sir. Though you musn’t tell him that I told you,” Harry said.

“Agreed.”

It was still mostly light out as they crossed the courtyard towards the tiny wooden hut. After knocking on the door, Snape waited impatiently on the front step. Hagrid appeared in the doorway before long and upon realizing who was there, tried quickly to hide the creature behind his back. He was unsuccessful.

“”fessor Snape! Wha’ can I do fer ya?” Hagrid asked.

“May I come in, Hagrid?” Snape spoke with an air of disgust.

“Er well, now isn’ really a good time, ya know,” Hagrid stalled.

“He knows about Norbert, Hagrid,” Harry said. 

Hagrid looked at Harry disappointedly. “Oh, alright, come in then.”

“It is not Harry’s fault,” Snape said in defense. “I forced him to tell me.”

Harry was touched at Snape standing up for him. Hagrid also seemed to relax and offered around some tea and rock cakes. They accepted, though Harry had no intention of eating the cakes.

“We cannot stay long, Hagrid. I simply came to see Norbert,” Snape said smoothly.

“Didya now? I won his egg off  strang’r! Can you believe ‘at?” Hargid said loudly. 

“I can,” Snape said, looking Hagrid in the eyes.

---{}-{}-{}---

Severus watched the seen unfold through the drunken memory in Hagrid’s mind. He saw a cloaked figure sitting across from Hagrid and noted that it’s face was in the shadows.

“Tell me, Hagrid, have you ever worked with a Ceberus?” she (for the voice was most definitely female) asked. “Fascinating creatures.”

“Yea I ‘ave! Ther’ not really as bad ‘s they look,” Hagrid slurred through a haze of ale. “Play a lil’ music and Fluffy goes righ’ to sleep.”

Severus ended the Legilimency. He had seen enough.

“You blasted fool,” he growled at Hagrid.

“Wha’?” 

“Come, Harry,” he snapped while turning and marching from the hut.

Outside, Harry asked, “What’s wrong? What did you see?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Did it have something to do with the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Severus stopped dead in his tracks. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and jerked him around. Severus did not need Legilimency to see the fear in his eyes.

“How do you know about that?” he demanded. The boy was silent.

Snarling, Severus resorted to Legilimency yet again, realizing that he should stop relying so much on that skill. Once more, Severus encountered a barrier when he attempted to delve into Harry’s mind. It was as before however; a churning sea of emotions rather than a smooth barrier that a practiced Occlumens could erect. Severus had never seen its like before. He had more experience than the boy, though, and after more effort than he would care to admit, the barrier broke. Inside, Severus found the memories of the stone breaking, the page in the purple book and of Hermione telling Harry what her research had found.

His eyes flashed with anger.

“You went through my personal belongings,” he accused. “YOU HAD NO RIGHT.”

Harry paled even more. “I’m sorry, Prof-”

“GO! Get out of my sight. You have no business meddling in what does not concern you,” Snape shook with anger.

“But, Professor,” Harry began.

“I said, ‘GO’,” he snarled. This time, Harry obeyed. With a pained look, he took off at a run towards the castle. 

---{}-{}-{}---

Once inside, Harry slipped down a corridor and huddled behind a stone gargoyle. His churning emotions slipped his control and Harry began to cry. After several minutes, he dried his eyes though did not feel any better. Now that the sounds of his sobbing had stopped, Harry could hear footsteps approaching down the corridor. 

“Who’s there?” he shouted, voice wavering. Harry drew his wand, trying in vain to calm himself enough to remember the spells that Snape had taught him. This did not have the desired effect, however, for thinking of the lessons with the potions master only made Harry want to cry again. 

The footsteps neared, then rounded the corner. 

“Draco?” Harry asked. 

“Harry?” the Slytherin replied. “What’re you doing here?”

Harry didn’t respond, but lowered his wand as Draco approached. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look awful.”

Again, Harry responded with silence, not knowing how to answer that question honestly. Draco slid to the floor beside him.

“I can’t say that I know how you feel, but I’m learning,” Draco said sympathetically.

“Why?” 

“My whole house has practically disowned me for being friends with Gryffindors. I think Nott put them up to it,” he said glumly. “To think, I have to survive seven more years with him as a dorm mate.”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry said. He found it easier to focus on Draco’s problems than his own. 

“It’s not your fault. I am quite capable of choosing who I’m friends with,” he pointed out. “They offered to accept me if I stopped talking to you three.”

Harry looked at him in askance.

“I said no.”
Harry gave a weak smile. “That actually makes me feel better,” he admitted, “Though I hope you don’t have too hard of a time over us.”

“I can handle them. I’m a Slytherin, remember? Cunning and clever and whatnot,” Draco returned with a small smile. “You want to talk about what’s bothering you?” 

Without conscious thought, Harry told Draco everything he had discovered about the Philosopher’s Stone. He finished with Snape’s reaction only a short while ago; the event that had led him here.

“Professor Snape doesn’t seem like someone you want angry with you, Harry. I would apologize before it gets bad,” Draco suggested. He stood up and smoothed his robes. “At least holiday starts in a few days, are you going home?”

Harry gave a snort. “To the Dursley’s? No way. I already signed up to stay here. Ron is staying with me,” he said.

“I don’t really want to go home either, but my parents are making me. Hope you have fun here, castle all to yourself...” Draco winked. “I ought to get back before curfew. That is, if they let me back in. See you in Potions tomorrow, Harry.”

“Ugh Potions,” Harry groaned, making Draco chuckle. “See you.”

Draco headed back the way he had come.
“Hey Draco, thanks for being a friend,” Harry called. 

Draco turned and smiled.

---{}-{}-{}---

As Harry feared, Potions was horrible the next day. Thankfully, it was the last day of classes before the break. Harry was so distracted by Professor Snape’s incessant glaring that he forgot to turn the flame down to low beneath his cauldron. His potion turned a magenta color rather than the lilac that it was supposed to be. Harry did not hear Snape come up behind him, yet there he was, looking over Harry’s shoulder at the erroneous potion.

“Does that look lilac to you, Mr. Potter?” Snape said harshly.

“No, sir, it doesn’t.”

“And why do you suppose it is not the correct shade?”

“Because I forgot to turn the flame down, sir,” Harry replied evenly.

“Forgot? I see. Zero for the day, I should think,” he said with a sneer.

“Everyone is prone to mistakes, Professor. I deeply regret mine,” Harry said, alluding to the night before.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Nice try, Potter.”

Harry watched as the black clad man swept away from his table. Draco gave him a sympathetic look. 

“At least you didn’t get another detention, Harry,” Ron said. “Those last few were for practically made up things.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, not wanting to let on that he missed his ‘detentions’.

Figuring that he wasn’t receiving any points no matter what he did, Harry simply stared at his bubbling cauldron for the rest of class.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“Er, yeah. I’m ok,” he replied.

She gave him a doubtful look but thankfully did not push it further. In truth, Harry was miserable. This mood lasted for the next few days, and was only encouraged by the emptiness of the castle once everyone had gone on holiday. With his only company being Ron, Harry was prone to sulking.

“Want to play chess, Harry?” Ron asked on Christmas eve.

“Not really,” he answered, staring at the fire. “Sorry that I’m not very good company.” 

“Nah, it’s alright. It’s good to have some peace and quiet now and then.”

Harry nodded in assent and zoned out, wishing fervently that everything had turned out differently.

---{}-{}-{}---

When Harry woke the next morning, he was expecting a Christmas like he was used to at the Dursleys’: him sitting in the corner while everyone else opened presents. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.

“Get up, Harry! Those presents won’t open themselves,” Ron said. “On second thought... some of them might. You may want to get a hold of that one.”

“What?” Harry asked sleepily, surprised to find a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. “I have presents?”

“Of course! It’s Christmas for The Boy Who Lived, naturally you have presents!” 

Harry got up and grabbed the one that Ron had mentioned was trying to open itself. Indeed, it had shredded half of the wrapping paper before Harry ripped the rest off. Inside, he found a joke snitch that was deceptively easy to catch. Once caught, however, it turned all of Harry’s nails on the hand that held it gold. He smiled and opened the card, reminding himself to tell the twins thank you. The next two he opened were from Ron and Hermione; the latter had gotten him a new quill and several sheets of fancy parchment. Ron’s gift was closer to Harry’s interests though: a large box of Honeyduke’s finest chocolates.

“Thanks, mate!” Harry said, sincerely hoping that Ron would like his book: How to Evade Bludgers and Beaters Preferably Without Getting Bludgeoned or Beaten. 

Harry also received a hand knit sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a new pair of Quidditch gloves from Draco. Harry glanced at the pile of wrappings, feeling as if he were missing something. This sad lacking feeling did not last long, for Harry was content to revel in his first real Christmas. Ron and Harry lazed away the morning breaking in the new wizard chess set that Ron had received and eating chocolates.

When it was time for the feast, Harry and Ron and three older Gryffindors who had also opted to stay at Hogwarts headed down to the Great Hall. Due to the small number of students who remained for the holiday, two tables were simply pushed together to seat the teachers on one side, students on the other.

“What are those?” Harry asked, pointing to the piles of tubes in intervals along the table. 

“Wizard Christmas Crackers!” Ron said, picking one up. “Here, pull the other end.”

Harry did so and was rewarded by an explosion of noise and blue smoke. 

“Cool, you got a wizard chess set!” Ron said enthusiastically. “We can break yours in later tonight against my new one.”

Harry smiled, then stopped when he saw Professor Snape glaring from across the table. Unfortunately, the Gryffindors were the last to arrive, and since students seemed to be intimidated by Professor Snape, the spots on the other end of the table, near Hagrid and Professor Flitwick, were all filled. Harry was forced to take a seat right across from the Potions Professor. He was at least thankful that Professor Quirrell was on the opposite end.

“Merry Christmas, Professor Snape,” Harry said, in attempt to lighten the mood. He received a glare in return. Luckily food appeared quickly, easing some of the tension. 

The rest of the meal passed with silence between Harry and Snape. Harry turned his attention instead to Dumbledore’s rather entertaining stories and tried to ignore the dark eyes boring into Harry’s head. He was relieved when at last the meal was over and they were free to go. 

The common room was quiet when they returned for there were only a handful of Gryffindors. The silence seemed to eat into Harry and he decided to take Draco’s advice. He simply couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked as Harry moved towards the portrait hole.

“I have to talk to Professor Snape.”

“You are going to seek him out on Christmas? Why? So that he can glare at you some more?”

“You noticed too?” Harry asked, thankful that he wasn’t imagining the hostile attitude directed towards him. Ron nodded. “Well, I hope that’s not what happens.”

Ron scoffed, “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks,” Harry said as he left. 

---{}-{}-{}---

Severus sat at his desk reading through an old potions book when a knock sounded on his door. Reluctantly getting up, he cursed the person who would disturb his quiet solitude.

“Yes?” the Severus snapped, opening the door only a few inches. “Oh. Potter.” He went to close the door.

“Professor, please,” Harry implored. “Its Christmas.”

“That changes nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Professor, I really am. I wanted to show you that,” Harry said.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Severus asked dryly. 

“Let me in first, please?” 

“Fine,” he said, stepping out of the way. The small boy entered and stood in front of Severus. 

“I’m really, really sorry. I thought that if I knew what the invisible man was after that it would help me be ready for him in the future. I thought that a little knowledge of what he wants could save my life. I certainly don’t have the skill to fight someone like that off. I’d have to work something else out,” Harry said. 

Severus could see the honesty in his eyes and against his instinct, he was inclined to believe the boy. Those green eyes looked innocently up at him.

“You wouldn’t want me to get hurt, would you?” 

Snape cursed. He tried to deny that he had grown to care ever so slightly for the boy but simply could not lie to himself in that way.  

“I had a present in mind for you, but I didn’t know how to get it without your help,” Harry said quietly. The boy simply did not stop rubbing salt in the wound.

“Oh?” Severus asked, mildly curious.

“It would require going back to the Dursleys’,” Harry explained.

“Potter, you hate the Dursleys.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Harry retorted. “But there is no other way.”

Severus realized that the gift must be very important to Harry for him to be willing to go back to the place that he had loathed and lived in for the first ten years of his life. Severus let his curiosity get the better of him.

“Very well, I suppose you’d like to go now?” Severus asked. Harry nodded. “Let me alert Dumbledore.”

After writing a quick message to the Headmaster and sending it flying off through the castle, Severus led Harry outside. They walked in a comfortable silence to the edge of the Apparation barrier.

“Do I have permission to look into your mind for a picture of the Dursleys’ house so that we can Apparate directly there?” Severus asked. Harry nodded. Severus found a memory of a remarkably normal house with a white picket fence, perfectly pruned shrubs and a lush green lawn. He fixed the image in his mind and instructed Harry to grab hold. They were squeezed through the air and landed with a pop on the Dursleys’ front lawn.

“Would you like me to come?” Severus asked, for the small boy looked nervous as he stared through the window at a bright muggle Christmas tree.

Harry nodded, then started up the steps. About ten feet from the door, something invisible stopped Severus abruptly. Harry turned in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“There seems to be an invisible barrier that you can pass through, but I cannot,” Severus said, equally surprised. “Ah,” he said, remembering a conversation years ago between Minerva, himself and Albus.

She had argued to take Harry away to a more suitable foster family, but Dumbledore refused. He stated his reason as an old and complex form of magic that gave Harry protection through his mother’s blood as long as he called this house ‘home’. Protection from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Namely, him.

“I cannot come further, Harry. I will stand right here and wait for you,” Severus said. Harry opened his mouth to speak. “Please don’t ask questions.”

Harry, as if realizing the new and fragile trust between them, did not push it. Instead, he turned and knocked loudly on the door.

“It’s not Halloween, what do yo- Oh.” Vernon Dursley said, standing in the doorway. “I thought we were rid of you.”

“I just wanted to collect the last of my things, sir. Merry Christmas,” Harry said in a timid voice.

“You think I will let you step foot in this house once more?” the large man demanded.

“I know you will let him,” Severus said in a low voice. Vernon jumped; he had not seen Severus in the darkness for he was dressed in solid black.

“Alright boy, but be quick about it,” he relented.

Harry, instinct born of years of avoiding his uncle, darted past the man and hurried to his cupboard. Vernon seemed to have initiated a stare-down with Severus, but little did he know that Severus was more than equal to the challenge. Vernon looked away within moments, causing Severus to display his best sneer. A few uncomfortable minutes ticked by before Harry came out of the house.

“Er, bye, sir,” Harry said in parting.

His uncle merely grunted and shut the door in his face. Harry sighed and turned to Severus. “We can go back now.”

Severus nodded and repeated the side-along Apparation, noting that Harry had nothing in his hands.

---{}-{}-{}-{}---

Back in Snape’s office, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out his intended gift for Snape.

“You’ve shown me pictures I haven’t seen of my mom, so I thought I’d give you the only one I’ve ever had. I’ve memorized it by now,” Harry said, then hesitated. “That is, if you want it, you have so many other better ones.”

“I assure you, one can never have too many photographs,” Snape said softly.

Harry handed over the picture; it was only half, with a torn edge. “I found it in the trash after my aunt threw it away,” Harry explained.

In the half that was intact, Lily seemed joyously happy as she bounced a baby Harry on her knee. She planted a kiss on his cheek then blew one at the camera. It was, for Harry, the perfect image of his mother; even better than all of the ones Snape had shown him. That was because in this one, Harry could see that love that she had for him in her eyes, and this, beyond anything, made him feel complete. 

Snape stared at it for a long moment. “Thank you, Harry,” he said quietly. “Though I insist you keep it. Just seeing is enough for me; I would not want to take such an important thing away from you.”

“You wouldn’t be taking it away from me, not really. I thought you can add it to your collection,” Harry said earnestly.

“If you are sure...” Snape said, the longing in his eyes was unmistakeable. Harry smiled.

“I’m sure,” he said with certainty. “That is, well, I can look at them anytime I want, right?”

Snape nodded silently.

Harry grinned, “So you forgive me then.”

“It seems that I do not have a choice,” Snape said.

“You always have  a choice.”

“Not with you I don’t,” Snape relied. Harry was confused but did not comment. “Now I had something in mind for you as well, though it’s not a traditional present...”

Harry’s eyes widened at the thought of Snape giving a present. That must be a first. “What is it?”

“It is a twofold gift. One thing I will show you, the other I will teach you. I have decided to teach you Occlumency,” Snape stated.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“It is a way to shield your mind so that, though I strongly discourage this, you can hide your thoughts from a Legilimens like me. I think that it is only fair.”

Harry nodded, “That is fair. What are you going to show me?”

“Come, unless you wish to wait until another day...” Snape trailed off.

“No, I want to go now!” Harry said excitedly.

Snape opened the door for Harry and led him through the castle. It was very disorienting, for though the torches burned, the corridors were very dark. If he had not been following the professor, Harry was sure that he would’ve gotten lost. At length, they reached an ordinary wooden door which Snape pushed open. Inside, stood a towering mirror with an odd inscription along the upper edge.

“A mirror?” Harry asked, slightly disappointed.

“The Mirror of Erised, Harry. Stand in front of it,” Snape urged gently.

Unsure of what he would see, Harry did so. When he looked into the reflective surface, he saw himself, but he was not alone. Beside him, Harry recognized his mother, exactly how she had looked in the torn picture; love shining in her eyes. On the opposite side stood what seemed like an older version of Harry himself, who Harry knew was his father. His head whipped around, searching for them in the air beside him. There was no one in the room but Snape. 

“I assume you see your parents?” Snape asked. At Harry’s nod, he explained, “They are not really here.”

“But they’re moving. They look so real. Are they ghosts?” Harry asked, pain in his voice.

“Have you seen Nearly Headless Nick? They do not look as he does,” Snape said. “No, Harry, they are not ghosts. This mirror shows you what you desire most. Some see riches or power. You see a family who loves you.”

“What do you see, sir?” Harry asked. Snape stepped up next to Harry on the side where his father was. James Potter melted away, but Lily remained.

“I see myself as I would be had I not made a horrible mistake,” Snape said cryptically in a very soft voice.

“It’s never too late,” Harry said, not catching onto Snape’s meaning.

The Potions master turned his dark eyes upon Harry. “No, I suppose it’s not.”

They stayed for a few minutes more before Snape led Harry from the room.
“The mirror will be moved to a new place tomorrow, it would be best if you do not search for it,” Snape informed Harry.

Harry was immediately saddened, for he had already thought about trying to sneak back and look at the mirror some more.

“It does no good to dwell on what cannot be changed, Harry,” Snape said wisely. “You will be happier if you focus on what can. Never quite got that down myself,” he said, in a voice of dark humor.

Harry nodded, deciding that this Christmas gift was better than all of the ones he had received that morning.

“Merry Christmas, Professor.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

---{}-{}-{}---

“Close your mind,” Snape commanded Harry.

Harry tried to obey but found it difficult. “How exactly do I do that, sir?”

“Think of nothing,” he suggested. “Or perhaps think of a smooth blank wall behind which you are hiding your thoughts.”

The latter worked better for Harry because he simply could not stop thinking. Instead, he pictured a brick wall that was smooth; no mortar was between the stones.

“Ready?” Snape asked. Harry nodded, making eye contact. “Legilimens.”

Harry concentrated hard on his wall and willed it not to break beneath the practiced stab of Snape’s mind. After only a few seconds, Snape managed to dig through a crack on the edge of his barrier, collapsing the wall and allowing memories to spew forth. He did not hold Harry in this state, however. Instead, he released him and stepped back.

“Think of one of your worst memories,” Snape said. 

“What? Why would I do that if you’re going to break into my mind?” Harry asked, horrified.

“For precisely the reason you just demonstrated. You will fight much harder if you do not want me to see what is in your mind,” he explained. “Ready?”

Harry nodded once more and prepared a stronger, smoother barrier than before. He felt the pressure of Snape’s mind push against his block, trying to discern the weakest spots. This time, it took over a minute for Harry to falter and allow the professor to slip inside. Just as the memory of Harry being locked in his cupboard for a week started to replay, Harry closed his eyes, severing the connection.

“Again,” Snape commanded.

This time Harry held out for a few minutes before finally succumbing. Despite Snape’s instructions, Harry was not picking his worst memories, even though these were bad. He got nervous just thinking about what the Dursleys would do if they found out what Snape knew. He had no desire to add to that flame.

“You are holding back,” Snape accused. “Try harder. If you truly master this, you will be able to Occlude your mind with out thinking, for indefinite periods of time; even while asleep. Now try again.”

With a deep breath, Harry picked one of his worse memories. This was one that featured Dudley and his gang forcing Harry up a tree and keeping him there for a whole night. Feeling that the embarrassment of Snape watching this memory would be overwhelming, Harry fought his hardest to keep the Professor out. Several minutes passed after Snape uttered the spell. Finally, he cancelled it of his own accord.

“I believe you have it,” he told Harry. “All you must do now is practice so that it becomes second nature to you.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said gratefully. “Hang on, you offered to teach me Occlumency, but how did you know that I found out that you could read minds?” 

“I can read minds, remember?” Snape said derisively, a sneer across his face.

“Oh, right,” Harry replied, chastened.

“Anything happen with Professor Quirrell?” Snape asked.

“No, sir. Not yet anyway, I’m headed there next actually,” Harry said, glancing at the time. They had been practicing over lunch for Harry had Quidditch practice that evening. The big Slytherin vs. Gryffindor game was in only two days and the team was frantically preparing.

“You ought to go, then. Better to not give him a reason to give you detention,” Snape pointed out, implying that he would give a detention to a late student.

“Alright, see you Professor,” he said, departing.

“Goodbye Harry.”

Harry smiled to himself and headed off to find Draco and Hermione who were supposed to meet him before Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ron was planning on coming late to the class in favor of finishing his Potions essay that was due the period after. Harry tried to convince him that Quirrell was in fact scarier than Snape, but Ron simply could not believe it. Harry was appalled, for Ron was involved in Harry’s ‘kidnapping’ and had seen the results firsthand. Nevertheless, he decided to let it go and catch up with his other two friends. 

“Hey there, Harry,” Hermione said as he jogged up behind them.

“Hi,” Harry replied.

“Did you know that Draco has an entire library in his house?” Hermione said, eyes glowing.

“Er, no I didn’t.” He turned to Draco and asked redundantly, “You have a library in your house?”

“Well it’s not huge but it’d be enough to keep someone occupied for quite a while,” Draco stated. “You’re welcome to come over and use it whenever you like,” he said to them both.

Harry snorted as Hermione’s eyes glazed over. “What would your parents say? ‘Hey mom, dad, I brought my friends over to hang out in the library’.”

They laughed at the notion while Hermione scowled, for that seemed to be exactly what she imagined.

“Actually, my father is rather intrigued with you, Harry. He thought it was odd that you accepted a Slytherin as a friend and spend so much time with Professor Snape. They’re old friends. I’m sure he’d love to meet you,” Draco said airily. 

Harry was mildly surprised, but did not acknowledge the offer with more than a glance. He recalled Ron mentioning on the Hogwarts Express that he had heard some strange things about the Malfoy family. He thought that Draco was okay, but resolved to ask Ron about it later.

“I don’t think that Harry intentionally spends time with Professor Snape,” Hermione pointed out. “I can’t imagine that his detentions are fun.”

Draco looked mildly surprised. “Really? I heard him say that he hasn’t given out a detention since the first day of classes.”

Harry hung his head an spoke quietly. “Please don’t tell anyone, especially Ron, but I haven’t really been in detention.”

“Then what, Harry?” Hermione asked, seeming alarmed that he was breaking some kind of rule.

“You remember the thing with Quirrell trying to kidnap me?” Harry asked, glancing to make sure they were alone in the corridor. They both nodded, for he had told them everything, including the information on the stone. “Well, he has been mentoring me in classes and in... defense.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, that must be awful,” Hermione said with feeling.

Harry shook his head. “This is why I don’t want you to tell Ron just yet, he won’t understand. I sort of like the mentoring sessions. It’s nice finally having someone to talk to,” Harry explained. “Snape really isn’t that bad.”

“You can always talk to us, too,” Draco offered.

“I know,” he smiled faintly at the pair of them. “Thank you.”

They neared the classroom in silence, then assumed their customary seats, leaving one open for Ron. Opening his bag, Harry pulled out his essay on the treatment of werewolf bites. Once the class settled in, they were instructed to turn the essays in to the Professor on his desk. Harry approached more warily than the others, and he felt his scar prickle from across the room as Quirrell’s gaze turned towards him. When he reached the desk, he dropped his parchment in the wicker basket and attempted to Occlude his mind before looking at the Professor. He met his eyes as if meeting a challenge. Fearing that his mental shields would falter, Harry dropped his gaze before turning away. His eyes landed on a piece of jewelry that he had not noticed before: a golden chain on which hung a large locket with decorative filigree in a shape that Harry couldn’t quite make out in this light.

The moment that his eyes connected with this object, a searing pain shot through Harry’s scar. He barely managed to stop himself from crying out at he dropped to his knees. Draco, who had been right behind him, was at his side in an instant.

“What is it?” he asked. 

“Have... to.. go,” Harry gasped. 

“T-take him to t-t-the hospital w-wing,” Quirrell tremulously commanded Draco. 

Draco nodded and helped Harry to his feet. They trudged across the classroom, and slipped out of the door. Immediately, Harry’s pain eased and his head was completely clear. He stood up straight.

“I’m okay now,” Harry said.

“Were you faking?” Draco asked, eyes narrowing.

“No,” Harry insisted. “but I do need to see Professor Snape.”

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know, I just looked at his necklace and my scar started burning,” he explained.

“Harry, your scar isn’t burning, it’s bleeding,” Draco said urgently. 

Harry dabbed it with his finger, wincing at the sensitive skin. “I have salve in my dorm, let’s go.”

“I thought you wanted to see Professor Snape?” Draco said, clearly confused.

“He’s teaching, I could call him here, but I don’t think it is that urgent,” Harry said, missing Draco’s inquisitive glance. “I’ll go down before Quidditch.”

They headed up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room where they found Ron, alone and writing frantically.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Ron asked, not having time for greetings.

“Long story, keep writing,” Harry told him, dashing up the stairs.

Once inside the boy’s dormitory, Harry rummaged through his possessions looking for the small tin of salve that Snape had given Harry. When at last he found it, he rubbed it gratefully over his lightning bolt shaped scar and almost sighed in relief. He made a mental note to thank Snape later. He descended the steps and joined Ron and Draco at the bottom. Ron had finished his essay and was hoping that the return of Harry and Draco would cover his late arrival.

Incredibly, this plan worked for him. When they entered the classroom, all eyes turned to them.

“Y-you’re back,” Quirrell stated simply. “T-thought I o-only sent M-m-malfoy.”

“I tagged along,” Ron lied, “Harry’s my friend too.”

Quirrell merely grunted and resumed teaching. Luckily, the class was more than half over by this point and therefore was easier to endure. Harry noted that Quirrell’s necklace had either been removed or tucked beneath his robes. 

Soon enough, they were released to head down to Potions. This class had become much more bearable now that Harry and Snape were on better terms. They were given instructions and the class passed quickly. At the end, he whispered to Draco that he was staying and asked him to inform the other two of the reason he left Quirrell’s class. His friend nodded and ushered Ron and Hermione out of the room.

“Professor?” Harry asked for Snape’s back was turned to him.

“Yes?”

“May I stay for a moment?” Harry inquired. “I don’t have long because I have to get to practice, but there is something I need to tell you.”

“But of course,” Snape said, unconcerned. “Do tell.”

“I was handing in an essay to Quirrell-”

“Professor Quirrell, Harry,” Snape corrected.

“But he’s helping Vold-”

“The Dark Lord, Harry,” Snape corrected again, much to Harry‘s frustration.

“But he’s helping You-Know-Who!” Harry sputtered.

“Indeed he is, but nevertheless, he is still a Professor at this school and will thus be addressed as one. Do go on,” he said, unfazed.

Harry rolled his eyes, then paused, expecting a reprimand. It did not come.

“Contrary to popular belief, I do have other things to do, if you would get on with it.”

“I Occluded my mind before I looked at him, but I was worried that it might not hold, so I dropped my gaze to his necklace,” Harry started.

“Necklace?” Snape snapped with a sneer. “I have never seen him wear one.”

“Neither have I. It was big and gaudy and had some kind of design on the front but I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to make through all of the swirls and such,” Harry admitted. “But anyway, when I looked at it, my scar seared really bad, and Quirrell told Draco to take me to the hospital wing. As soon as I left the room though, it stopped.”

“Is that so?” Snape said, appearing to contemplate this.

“Thanks for the salve, Professor. My scar was bleeding but that helped a lot.”

Snape waved his hand dismissively. “Go, you’ll be late for practice,” he said. “On the other hand, stay. I’d rather like Slytherin to win.”

“Not a chance,” Harry said with exaggerated cockiness. He said goodbye and exited the office, leaving Snape with his thoughts.

---{}-{}-{}---

Later that night, Harry staggered into the common room. He was exhausted from practice and headed straight up to the dormitory. Ron rose to follow him, chatting amiably about Quidditch.

“So, are we going to kick the Slytherins’ a-”

“RON,” Hermione yelled up the stairs in reprimand.

Ron scowled while Harry chuckled. “Of course, they’ve got nothing on us,” Harry stated, confident in his team’s abilities.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Ron said as they entered the empty room.

Harry began stripping off his gloves and shoes. “Hey Ron? You remember that conversation we had on the train about the Malfoys?”

“Harry, I barely remember if I ate breakfast this morning,” Ron replied, rolling his eyes.

“Believe me, you did,” Harry told him with a laugh. “But really, you mentioned something about hearing some things about the Malfoys. You hinted that they weren’t very good.”

“Oh, was that when you got all deep about giving people second chances and whatnot?” Ron asked, missing the point.
“Probably, I don’t know. Anyway, what did you hear about the Malfoys?”

“Oh. Right. Well, Dad works at the Ministry, you know that, so we pick up snippets of stuff. I’ve heard my parents discussing how they don’t think Mr. Malfoy should have gotten off. They think he should’ve went to Azkaban.”

“Azkaban?” 

“Wizard prison,” Ron explained.

“For what?” Harry asked. 

“Supporting and helping You-Know-Who. After you did away with him, all of his closest followers were sent to Azkaban, but Malfoy Sr. went free. Something about being forced. My parents don’t believe that though.”

“Oh,” Harry said, trying to understand the implications of Malfoy and Snape being friends from way back. Back when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was alive...

“Why do you ask?” 

“Just something Draco said...” Harry hedged, though told the truth.

“Draco is okay, I’m glad he doesn’t hang out with Nott and them,” Ron stated.

“Yeah, I told you that we can keep him from going bad,” Harry said with determination. 

“I sure hope so.”

Harry got cleaned up then collapsed in his bed. He drifted off to sleep thinking about the stone that he had caused Snape to shatter and of Malfoy Sr. Harry dearly hoped that he had placed his trust in the right people.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry could hear the cheers from the stands as he nervously walked out onto the pitch. Almost instinctively, he looked over at the teachers’ stand. Both Snape and Quirrell were absent, which Harry found odd. He had not been expecting Quirrell to show up, but he could tell that Snape was interested in the outcome of the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match. Harry found reassurance instead in Dumbledore’s soft eyes and crinkled half smile. He mounted his broom and circled the pitch with his team, eyeing their rival team. The Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint shot Harry an unnecessarily challenging look and opened his mouth to snap what Harry assumed would be a harsh comment. Before he got the chance, Wood swept in an made one of his own.

“Need a compass to fly straight, Flint?” he taunted in reference to the small compass strapped to the handle of the expensive broom.

Flint growled and tore it off, tossing it to the ground far below. “You won’t be so smug when we land your whole team in the hospital wing. Don’t pull any punches for first years either,” he said with a viscous sneer at Harry.

Harry paled. Wood shot over and pulled Harry away with assurances that no one would end up in the hospital wing. Harry was not convinced. He reflected that perhaps apprehension of injury was not the best way to begin each Quidditch game. Unfortunately, it seemed to be becoming a trend, much to Harry’s dismay.

The whistle sounded, shaking Harry out of his thoughts. He lapped his  counterpart, Terence Higgs, as they searched for the Snitch. The wind blew cold and Harry dearly hoped that this wouldn’t be a long game. While looking for the Snitch, Harry noted that the Slytherin Chasers were very aggressive and weren’t true to the rules. They scored several times before Gryffindor could come back with a few goals of their own.

“Ten points to Gryffindor!” Lee Jordan called happily from the announcer’s booth. “Take that you Slytherins! Come on Gryffindor, another three goals to tie.”

Harry swept towards the Slytherin goalpost, eyes beginning to dry out from the biting wind. As he neared the other end, a Bludger came flying out of nowhere, forcing Harry to roll to the side. After he did so, however, another (or perhaps the same one) shot out from the opposite side, and again, Harry had to take evasive maneuvers. He finally righted himself and glanced around quickly, searching for the next attack.
“Jumpy, are you Potter?” One of the Beaters called from beside his partner.

Harry’s eye narrowed but as he listened to Lee’s most recent announcement, he realized that this distraction had allowed the teams to tie. 

“Throw them at me, bet they won’t come close,” Harry taunted, trying to sound confident. Without waiting for a reply, he sped off in the other direction.

A whizzing sound alerted Harry that a Bludger was coming fast. He assumed that the second was not far behind. He dove towards the ground, then pulled up at the last minute, causing both to miss. Harry was extremely confident in his abilities after having played against the twins during the summer. As Harry continued on his way, the two Beaters fell behind, though not before Gryffindor had gained a twenty point lead. Harry circled past the goal posts and watched helplessly as two Slytherin Chasers forced Alicia Spinnet to the ground.

“You dirty rotten-” Lee started over the intercom.

“Jordan,” McGonagall warned reluctantly, for she sounded as disgusted as he did over the foul play.

“Sorry, Professor, but that was cheating.”

Slytherin scored with the Quaffle they had just stolen form Alicia. Cheers broke out in that section until all of the noise form the crowds abruptly stopped.

“What’s going on?” Lee asked, not expecting an answer. “The fans have found something more interesting than Quidditch it seems...Didn’t think such a thing existed...”

Harry and a few others darted quickly over to where everyone’s attention was focused.

He just barely heard Quirrell shout, “Troll in the castle!” before he watched the sickly man collapse. Confusion and shouting broke the silence and people swarmed the field before they were stopped by Dumbledore’s commanding voice.

“Silence! We shall take care of the situation presently, there is no need to worry. It would be in your best interests to stay out here until it is deemed safe to go inside. I hope that you will honor this request,” he said calmly. “Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, if you would stay here and keep an eye on things? Everyone else, join me in the castle if you would,” he said, addressing the teachers.

Harry glanced over at where Quirrell had fallen. He was gone. Harry felt a knot twist in the pit of his stomach. He knew that something was wrong. Without thinking, he leapt on his broom and sped off towards the castle, not caring if anyone saw him. He arrived in a matter of seconds, then dismounted and propped his broom against the outside wall. Glad that he had tucked his wand into his robes for fear of the Slytherins, he drew it now and raced up the stairs. Out of breath, Harry at last reached the third floor corridor. This time, it was locked. Harry tried to remember the spell that Hermione had used on the day that they accidentally stumbled down here.

“Alorhamora,” he tried. Nothing happened. “Alohomora.”

This time, the door clicked open and Harry stepped hesitantly inside. He had to resist using a Lumos charm for fear of giving himself away in the darkness. He slowly and quietly edged down the corridor and could faintly make out the door at the end that was slightly ajar. He had no desire to go in there after the last incident. Harry froze as he heard easily recognizable voices echoing off the stone.
“I thought we had an agreement, Quirrell,” Snape said threateningly.

“W-w-we didn’t,” Quirrell replied, more flustered than usual.

“It was more of a demand of mine, I will admit. But nevertheless, what I threatened still stands,” he replied in a deadly soft voice.

“R-remeber, w-w-what I said,” Quirrell responded.

Snape made an impatient noise. “Of course I won’t tell Dumbledore, there is too much at stake for him to ruin it, as I know would happen. Now GO. And don’t come back here because I told you, I’ll do everything in my power...” Harry couldn’t make out what Snape said next.

Deciding that he  shouldn’t be caught here, he quietly slipped down the corridor and out the door. From there he found a nice, dark cove and huddled out of sight to think things over. Harry began to make connections between Snape’s friendship with Malfoy and Malfoy’s rumored service of the Dark Lord, as Snape called him. Then, he thought of what he had heard just now and how he had seen Snape walk out of the woods after his first Quidditch game. Adding that to the Stone that Snape had broken and his subsequent anger, Harry actually began to shake. He was horrified. The first person that he had ever looked up to had betrayed him; played on his trust. He huddled into a fetal position and whimpered, almost wishing he were back at the Dursleys’. 

“Harry?” The very person that he had been thinking of called curiously.

“Get away from me,” Harry said, albeit rather weakly.

“What happened?” the normally emotionless voice bordered on concern. “Harry, talk to me.”

“You LIED to me!” Harry accused, wiping his face with a dirty sleeve. “You aren’t trying to protect me, you’re working with him!”

Snape’s face revealed nothing but shock. “What makes you think that?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he prepared to rant. “You were friends with Malfoy who was one of You-Know-Who’s followers, you were just now talking with Quirrell, plotting something!” he accused rashly. “And you broke that stone! What were you doing with it in your office?”

Snape shook his head. “You have it wrong.”

“I have nothing wrong! I’ve seen it! I heard you!” Harry cried, suddenly glad that the school was empty. “I don’t trust you, and I never should have.”
Of all the harsh things that Harry had said, it was this that made Snape’s eyes flicker with something akin to hurt.

“Harry please listen to me.”

Harry stubbornly looked away.

“Harry, please,” Snape said urgently. “Just listen to what I have to say, then you can make whatever judgements you want. Okay?”

Almost imperceptibly, Harry nodded. Snape waved a quick silencing charm around them.

“I am not going to get into the details of my past, but I will give you a brief summary. In sort, I was friends with the wrong group of people in my own Hogwarts days; people like Malfoy. Your mother was my best friend, a good influence on me,” Snape explained. Harry looked up at this. “But I made some bad choices that I thought would impress her. I was wrong. Instead, I pushed her away and fell deeper into the hole I was in. After a while, I came to realize the error of my ways and I turned spy for Dumbledore. Once the Dark Lord was destroyed, it became an easy job, for I was freed of my obligations to him. I was happy to stop pretending, Harry. I enjoy this freedom. Now that he is apparently back, I have no desire to aid in his rise.”

Harry searched Snape’s eyes, looking for truth behind his words. He could discern nothing from those coal black depths. “Then what were you doing with the stone and with Quirrell?”

“You must have misinterpreted my discussions with Quirrell. In reality, I was threatening him to stay away from both you and the stone for he is certainly working for the Dark Lord. The stone that you inadvertently caused me to shatter was a fake that I was in the process of hexing as a trap for Quirrell. Since he was invisibly observing the process, however, it is a moot point,” he explained calmly.

Harry did not believe he was lying, but perhaps it was simply because he did not want him to be. “And what you said about Dumbledore?”

“Quirrell said that if I told Dumbledore about any of this, he would hurt you,” Snape said quietly, dropping his gaze. Harry dropped his as well.

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“I’m sorry for all of those awful things I said,” Harry said apologetically. “I believe you. Thank you for protecting me.”

“Of course, I owe it to your mother.”

Harry’s gaze sharpened. “Is that why you are being so nice? Because of her, not because of me?”

Snape sighed, a rare display of emotion. “Harry, the trust between us is obviously very fragile. Therefore, I will tell you the truth and I hope you will accept it. Originally, I did change the way I was acting towards you as a favor to your mother’s memory. Now, however, it has moved past that. I find myself willing to help you, not because of her. You have changed me.”

Harry felt uncomfortable. “Alright,” he accepted.

“Come, you need to get cleaned up and I need to check on that blasted troll,” Snape said, rising. 

Harry followed, his emotions churning. 

“Professor?” Harry asked. “Should I tell Draco, Hermione and Ron about that? They know everything else.”

“They do, do they?” Snape asked, one eyebrow rising. “You may tell them what is necessary to explain the situation if you feel you must, but I would prefer that you refrain from mentioning anything of a personal nature concerning me. I suppose they are a trustworthy group. I am unsure about Mr. Weasley but Ms. Granger and young Mr. Malfoy are good choices. I certainly approve of my house member.”

“You don’t think that it is odd that I’m friends with a Slytherin?”

“I think that it will be to your advantage later on,” he said. “Go back out and see if you can’t blend in with the crowd. It will save awkward questions.”

Harry nodded. “Sorry again, Professor. I do trust you now.”

Snape simply waved his hand impatiently and gestured for Harry to join the students outside.

---{}-{}-{}---

Severus followed the banging noises coming from the dungeons and arrived just as his peers managed to topple the unsightly troll that had invaded the school. 

“Nice of you to join us, Severus,” McGonagall snapped.

It was common knowledge that Severus desired the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and therefore would know the best way to attack a troll. They seemed to have managed just fine without him though.

“I’m merely the Potions master,” Snape said snidely, “where is the qualified individual?”

“I don’t know where that turbaned man went. He’d probably faint as soon as look at this thing though. Not much help, that one,” she replied bitterly.

“I suppose we just call the Quidditch match a draw, then?” Snape suggested with mock innocence.

“Absolutely not!” McGonagall said. “Gryffindor was in the lead, I say we either take the current score or simply continue the game.”

Severus grunted, thinking that perhaps Slytherin would have a chance in that case. Harry was rather a mess. Only a few moths ago, this prospect would have cheered Severus considerably. Now, however, he was simply shaken. It was mildly alarming how much of an affect losing Harry’s trust, if only temporarily, could have. He hoped that they were on solid footing for a while at least. Severus helped the other teachers levitate the unconscious troll outside, where they called the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Beast Division. Severus stared at the grotesque creature in revulsion as Quirrell came wandering over. He claimed that he had to recover from his fainting spell and apologized for his lateness. Severus gave him what he hoped was a bone chilling glare.

“Ease up a little, Severus, you were late too,” McGonagall pointed out after noticing his look. She liked to irk him, it seemed.

“You could not begin to fathom my loathing of that man.”

“Gosh,” she breathed. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Where is Dumbledore?”
“Returned to the stands,” she replied casually.

Snape remained silent, wondering if he should risk telling Dumbledore. He contemplated his options for a moment, then decided that the stakes were too high. Harry definitely did not have the skills to defend himself at so young an age.

“Since you seem to have everything under control here, I believe I will go. I have a few things to take care of,” Severus stated.

“Go ahead,” Minerva said tiredly.

Right now, all that needed to be taken care of was a large glass of Firewhiskey.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry stood with the rest of his Quidditch team who were jointly glaring at the Slytherins lined up across from them. McGonagall’s voice was booming over the intercom, but Harry’s fierce Occlusion practice was forcing him to all but block it out. He knew that it was pointless, for there was no way that Higgs knew Legilimency, but he thought he might as well work on his stamina. He came back into full awareness as she finished speaking.

“...if that is agreeable with all in attendance,” McGonagall said.

The captains of both teams nodded approval, speaking for their team. Harry turned to George.

“What’d she just say?” he whispered.

He gave him a quizzical look. “Usually not paying attention is our thing,” he said quietly, indicating himself and his twin, then continued, “though I was paying attention this time. We’re simply continuing the game now that they’ve disposed of the troll. Hope it doesn’t last too long, it’ll be dark soon.”

Harry nodded and walked off with his team to begin. The wind seemed to have picked up during the lapse, chilling Harry to the bone. He was glad that he had asked Hermione about a warming charm which he subsequently applied to his robes and gloves. 

After getting a taste for Harry’s skills during the first part of the game, Higgs stuck so close to Harry that he could’ve grabbed the tail of his broom. Harry tried to ignore him, but soon grew disconcerted. He tried some rather complex maneuvers that Wood had diagrammed for him, but nothing seemed to shake him. Harry derived a small degree of comfort in the fact that, being in front of Higgs, he would reach the Snitch first if they were to find it. 

The sun slowly began to sink beyond the horizon, much to the dismay of both the players and those in the stands. The score was announced as ninety to fifty, Gryffindor. Harry glanced around once more for the Snitch and realized that Higgs was gone. Pulling up on his broom, he turned sharply, eyes straining to adjust to the failing light. Just as he spotted the other Seeker, he noticed a palpable tension in the stands. He sped towards the green clad boy at top speed. He had obviously found the Snitch and Harry reached him, though was still ten feet behind. Higgs stretched out his arm and reached towards the glittering ball. Harry urged his broom to go faster. He was beginning to believe that he had a chance of reaching it when the Golden Snitch disappeared in Higgs’s fist. 

Harry had to hold back a swear word that his Uncle frequented as a cheer went up from the Slytherin stands. Lee groaned over the load speaker.

“And Slytherins win,” he said in a monotone. “200 to 90.”

Harry flew to join his team, apologies slipping from his lips.

“I’m so sorry. I screwed up,” Harry insisted.

Wood looked disappointed but told Harry, “It’s alright. We still have the best team that we’ve had in years.”

“Yeah, we can still recover,” Angelina insisted.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated, despite their assertions.

They were a somber group as they trudged through the light dusting of snow back up to the castle.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Ah, I see that the Gryffindors are not infallible,” Snape said smugly the next evening when Harry grumbled about the match.

“It was my fault,” he said, still angry with himself.

Snape sneered, “Or perhaps Slytherin has a better Seeker.”

Harry glared at the Potions master. He decided that it was time to change the subject.

“What are we going to do about Quirrell and You-Know-Who, Professor?” Harry noted that Snape did not correct him for not properly addressing the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

“I wish I knew how he was communicating with the Dark Lord, or where he was at least. If I did, I would risk telling Dumbledore,” Snape stated, frustrated.

“Thanks a lot,” Harry grumbled quietly and without true feeling. “I still think he is in the woods.”

“All based in a dream?” Snape raised an eyebrow as if mocking the notion.

Harry sighed. “I guess that’s all I have to go on.”

“I’m afraid we will need more than that,” Snape said. “He must have someone helping him, he couldn’t survive out there alone. I don’t know how in Merlin’s name he came back, but he cannot be strong.”

“You don’t suppose Quirrell is helping him, do you?” Harry asked sarcastically, thinking that much would be obvious.

“I am keeping far too close of an eye on him for that,” Snape stated dryly.

Harry felt slightly reassured.

“I propose that we simply wait and see what happens,” Snape said.

“But what if he tries to steal the Stone?”

“Oh, he will, I am sure of it. Though it is better protected than you might imagine. I helped,” he replied with an air of arrogance.

“It still makes me feel uncomfortable, It’s like we are stepping aside and allowing him to take it,” Harry said, but was ready to let the subject drop.

“I assure you, that will never happen.”

---{}-{}-{}---

As winter turned to spring, Harry waited for something suspicious to happen, but it never did. Now well into March, Harry’s sessions with Snape were cut down to three times a week due to the nice weather and Quidditch practice. Harry was used to the rhythm of his classes and had fewer questions for the Professor. He was feeling pretty good both about the exams that were approaching and his life at Hogwarts in general. The Stone was pushed to the back of his mind as other, more mundane problems came to light.

Draco wasn’t doing nearly as well as Harry; his fellow Slytherins had all but disowned him. He had no friends in his house, though a few were cordial to him. Nott and his followers had single handedly turned everyone against him and enlisted a few older boys to threaten those who tried to be nice to him. For the first time, Draco realized the distinct disadvantage of being surrounded by those with Slytherin qualities. He sought refuge with his Gryffindor friends, and they became a tighter group than any would imagine.

“Ignore them,” Harry muttered under his breath as a group of green-clad students in the Great Hall threw taunts their way.

“I know,” Draco responded quietly. Though he knew how superficial they were, their insults never failed to sting.

Together, they took up seats at the Gryffindor table, a recent change that left many Gryffindors glaring their way. Harry sighed. He wanted to point out to them that Draco was here to escape that very treatment, but he held back, not wanting to further embarrass his friend. Luckily, or perhaps not, the twins came to the rescue.

“Hey, guys, cut him some slack. If he’s good enough for the great Harry Potter to be friends with, then he can’t be that bad,” Fred said.

George turned a critical eye on Draco, “Or can he?”

“Do you live to inflict pain upon innocent souls?” Fred asked.

“No,” Draco replied, confused.

“Do you drink blood or eat small children?”
“No.”
“Better than Snape at least,” George muttered.
Harry shot him a disturbed look, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you have a shrine to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in your dorm?”

“No.”

“Do you have snakes to do your bidding?”

“No,” Draco repeated, getting annoyed.

“See?” Fred said. “Way better than most Slytherins.”

“Gee, thanks,” Draco muttered darkly.

Simultaneously, Fred and George offered their hands. “You have been accepted-” Fred began.

“By us-” George cut in.

“Because we have total authority in these matters-”

“-as an Honorary Gryffindor for as long as you are friends with Harry-”

“And not with those idiots,” Fred finished with a nod in the direction of the Slytherin table.

Draco hesitantly shook their hands, looking worried that this may be some kind of sick joke.

“Huzzah!” They cried, garnering annoyed looks from along the table.

“Chill out, we’re forging bonds over here,” George called out, making everyone laugh.

“Can we eat now?” Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes but passed down a plate of Cornish pasties.

“Now that you’re an honorary one of us, tell me, does Snape really test out his potions on people who have detention?” Fred asked.

“Er,” Draco stalled, glancing at Harry. Harry held his perfectly flat expression.

“You ought to ask Harry,” Ron piped up. “He’s had detention for most of the year.”

Harry was still appalled that Ron didn’t find ‘detention’ for three days a week, every week the slightest bit suspicious. Regardless, he wasn’t about to make it so. The twins turned to Harry with eager expressions.

“What’s he tried out on you, Harry?” George asked. “Growth stunt potions?” he joked.

“Nothing,” Harry replied honestly.

“That’s disappointing,” Fred said sadly. “What’s he make you do?” 

“Prep potion ingredients. Disembowel frogs, cut up slugs, stuff like that.”

“I guess that’s typical Snape,” George muttered.

“Just doesn’t live up to our illusions,” Fred added sadly.

“Or delusions,” a sharp voice snapped from behind the two. Harry and the others on that side of the table had seen him coming, but pretended not to notice in favor of  watching his reaction.

The twins winced in unison. “We weren’t talking about you, sir.”

“Oh, there is another ‘Snape’ that I have not heard about?”

“Distant relative, I’m sure,” George said.

“Doesn’t quite have your charm, though,” Fred added.

“Five points form Gryffindor for your cheek.”

The twins shifted in their seats to glare at him. Their eyes followed him down the aisle and back to the head table.

“What do we have next?” Harry asked to diffuse the tension.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione replied.

“Bet he’d rather be teaching Dark Arts,” Harry grumbled.

“Has anything new happened?” Draco asked curiously.

“No.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?” Harry asked. “I kinda wish we could just get it over with so I can stop worrying about it.”

“Gives you more time to prepare,” Hermione pointed out somberly.

“How exactly does one prepare to foil the evil dark wizard who-came-back-from-the-dead’s plans?” Harry asked with a scowl.

“I don’t know, Harry.”

“That’s got to be a first,” he replied. Now it was her turn to scowl. 

---{}-{}-{}---

That night, Harry dreamt of the cloaked figure for the first time in months. This dream was different, however, he was not alone. With the figure was the unmistakable shadow of Quirrell. It was just that, though: a shadow. The turban was clearly outlined and gave the man’s head a distinctive shape.

“It is ready My Lord,” Quirrell’s shadow seemed to say, though the lack of stuttering made it hard to tell who spoke.

“Excellent,” the figure responded in a satisfied voice. With a start, Harry realized that it was a female’s voice.

“When shall I proceed?” the shadow asked.

Fog seemed to descend over the scene and the figures melted away.

“Soon.”

The word echoed through Harry’s mind as he sat up with a start. His heart pounded as he tried to adjust to the threatening darkness of the room. He grabbed his wand from the small table next to his bed and cast a lumos. The light tried to calm him, but his mind was racing irrationally. He retained enough sense to pull his robes from the trunk at the foot of his bed and rummage through the pockets for the small silver disc that Snape had given him. When at last he felt the touch of cold metal, he squeezed it three times as instructed and waited. He took several slow deep breaths to calm himself. 

After restoring to himself a modicum of sense, he felt foolish for not wanting to venture out of the dormitory. Some Gryffindor he was for calling Snape to him rather than heading down to his office himself. Harry passed his reluctance off on the fact that he didn’t actually know where Snape’s quarters were, and, being the middle of the night, that could be a problem. Suddenly, Harry felt bad for waking the Professor for a simple dream. It’s not simple, Harry assured himself. In any case,  he could not change his actions now, so he simply tried to make sense of what he saw.

He had only a few more minutes to wait before the door cracked open. Instinctively jumping, Harry aimed his wand at the dark figure that slipped in. As the moonlight identified the visitor as Snape, he lowered it. Harry watched as Snape cast what were presumably charms to keep the other boys asleep and keep their conversation private.

“What is it?” Snape said, though not as harshly as Harry might have expected. “A nightmare?”

Harry shook his head. “Something more.”
“Tell me about it,” he ordered.

Harry recited every detail that he could remember and was grateful for the control that the Professor had over his emotions. Harry needed reassurance at that moment, and if the older man had shown worry, Harry might have been undone.

“A female voice, you say?” he said, a tad sharply. “Are you sure?”

“It was definitely a woman,” Harry said, then hesitated. “Professor, Hagrid said-,” he cut himself off, eyes widening with sudden realization. “The egg. What exactly did you see in his memory?”
Harry scrutinized Snape, hoping that the argument associated with that night would not stop him from telling Harry the truth.

Snape took a deep breath. “He won the egg off a woman in a black cloak, like you described. And he also told her, drunkenly I might add, how to get past that ridiculous dog.”

Harry froze in horror. “But that means-”

“Yes, that means that since the woman is almost certainly working with Quirrell and the Dark Lord, they know as well. I am quite frankly surprised that they did not make use of the information sooner.”

Harry shuddered at the memory of the word “soon” echoing through his mind.

“We can’t let him have it, Professor,” Harry insisted quietly. “No matter what it costs.”

“I realize that,” Snape said in a voice that sounded far away. “Go to sleep. Soon does not mean tonight. Do you need a potion to help you?”

“No, I think I’ll be okay,” Harry said.He laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Professor. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It is no matter,” Snape said quietly. “Sleep well.”

Harry thought he felt a hand brush his hair lightly, but when he cracked open his eyelids, Snape was already gone. He figured that he must have imagined it and descended into slumber.

There was a definite tension in the air over the next three days. Harry hadn’t mentioned the fact that he was dreaming of Voldemort to his friends for fear of their reaction. Nevertheless, they picked up on his agitated state.

“Harry, is everything okay between you and Professor Snape?” Draco asked, remembering the last time. They were studying in the library with Hermione. In a place like this, Harry didn’t have to worry about Ron overhearing; he would only enter the library if sufficient force was applied.

“Yeah, just fine,” he replied distractedly.

“Then what’s the matter?” Hermione asked. “You seem all out of sorts.”

“I have this... feeling that they’re going to steal the stone soon,” he admitted, skirting around the details of how he knew this.

“Are you sure?” Draco asked. “I mean, they could’ve done it at any time, why now?”

“I don’t know. But my scar has been prickling for days.”

Hermione looked worried. “Please don’t do anything foolish, Harry.”

“I’ll try,” he said with an air of resignation.

“We’re with you, Harry,” Draco assured him. Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Thank you, that means a lot,” Harry said earnestly, giving them a small grin.

From then on, talk turned to the History of Magic test that was the next day and Harry felt lighter and more confident. This feeling remained until the sun dipped down beyond the horizon.

---{}-{}-{}---

Late that night, Harry woke abruptly, hand flying to his scar. His heart hammered against his ribs as he grabbed his wand and pulled on a set of robes. It was tonight. It was now. Harry had seen a harp playing and Fluffy asleep over an open trapdoor and he knew that it was imperative that he get there as fast as possible. 

“Ron!” Harry hissed. Groggily, Ron opened his eyes. “Get up, now! He is stealing the stone right now!”

Without waiting for his fear-stricken friend, Harry headed down to the common room. He turned to the girls’ dormitory to wake Hermione, aware that with every second they delayed, the stone was in increasing danger. He sprinted up the stairs. About halfway up, they suddenly melted into a smooth marble slide. Only Harry’s quick reactions from years of evading Dudley allowed him to shoot out an arm and catch the top edge, dragging himself up. Not caring about decorum, he burst into the First year room and located Hermione. She woke up much faster than Ron and he knew that she realized the urgency of what was happening.

Harry’s mind raced as he and Hermione joined Ron in the common room.

“Guess we’ll have to do this without Draco,” Harry commented as they flew out of the portrait hole.

“Shouldn’t we go get Dumbledore?” Ron asked. “We can’t fight You-Know-Who!”

Harry’s scattered mind was alarmed that he had not even considered alerting one of the professors. He recalled a casual comment that Snape had made earlier that day about Dumbledore being called away. He had grumbled about the extra duties he was asked to perform while he was gone... Snape. Harry was shocked that it had not occured to him earlier, but he pulled out the small silver disc and activated it.

“Dumbledore’s gone, but I alerted Snape.”

“Snape?” Ron asked. “How? He’ll probably join them!”

Harry ignored this as they had just reached the forbidden corridor. Upon entry, Harry saw the room just as he had in his dream. Luckily, the harp continued playing, giving them enough time to slip down the trapdoor.

Harry jumped and landed on something cushioning but not exactly soft. He felt carefully with his hands, then pulled them back quickly, as if repulsed. It seemed that they were on a pile of slimy snakes, though he thought it odd that they were not moving.

“Devil’s Snare,” Hermione breathed.

“What?” Harry asked, then realized that they were not snakes, but rather, Devil’s Snare. “Oh great, it’s going to suffocate us!”
For many years afterwards, Harry would remain amazed that he had remembered that aspect of the plant but hadn’t the slightest clue of how to counter it.

“Uh, Hermione?” Ron said, voice wavering. “I can’t move. Hermione! Do something!” he cried as his thrashing pulled the vines around his limbs tighter.

“I’m thinking! Dark and damp right, so...” She shot blue flames at the vines that had begun to tangle around her legs. They recoiled almost immediately. 

“Don’t shoot fire at me!” Ron cried.

Hermione hesitated, the only parts left visible of both Harry and Ron were their heads. Though her aim was good, it was simply too risky to shoot fire at them.

“Uh...” she thought frantically, “Lumos maxima!”

A blindingly bright light flew from the tip of her wand. Harry futilely tried to move his arm to shield his eyes and was surprised to find it free. He still could not see, but he felt around and noticed the plant retreating, coils gone from his body.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said as she cancelled the spell and their eyes adjusted to the much darker chamber. 

“Good thing I pay attention in class,” she grumbled with mock annoyance, happy that she rose to the challenge. They quietly crept along to the adjoining chamber. Harry could hear whizzing as if thousands of tiny bees were stirred into a frenzy. 

“Harry,” Hermione said pointing upwards.

Harry squinted, trying to see what the colorful specks were. One darted down and hovered tauntingly in front of his face. They were keys, he realized, with colorful wings. He glanced around the room. It was bare save a broom snapped in half in the corner and a heavy oaken door. Harry approached the door, confirming his suspicions that he would find it locked.
“I think we need to catch a key to go through here,” he announced.

Ron asked, “How are we going to do that?”

Harry wondered the same thing, for the keys were hovering in a cloud in the dome of the ceiling. “There’s a broken broom...”

“That’s the problem, it’s broken,” Ron pointed out impatiently. “Probably so that no one could follow him.

“So if Quirrell or whoever came through here already, then the right key has already been caught one. It will probably be a little battered,” Hermione pointed out.

“You’re missing the point, Hermione. How are we going to catch one?” Ron asked. Her brow furrowed as she thought.

“How’s your levitation charm, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Fine,” she replied confidently.

Harry strode over to the broken broom. “Reparo.”

“That won’t fly, Harry,” Ron pointed out as the wood knitted itself together. “We tried it after Fred broke his first broom.”

Harry mounted anyway, glad that Hermione at least understood. He gave her a nod.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” she said, directing the broom to go upwards.

“To the left,” Harry said, noticing that they gave him a wide berth, moving when he got close. “You have to go faster.”

“You’ll smack into the wall!” she protested.

“Just do it!” Harry snapped, knowing that they didn’t have time for this. She obeyed and Harry stretched out his arm, targeting a large silver key with a broken blue wing. The broom below him shot forward and so did Harry’s hand. He smacked it and, as Hermione predicted, ran into the wall. He could feel it trapped between his hand and the cold stone. Grasping it tightly in his fist, he called for Hermione to lower him down.

Once on the ground, he shoved the key unceremoniously into the door and pushed it open wide. He stepped through, wondering what fresh horror was in store for them. He could feel the cold leeching up from the marble checkered floor and studied the statues that were lined in two rows. It did not take long for realization to hit him: they were standing on a giant chessboard.

Ron had instantly picked up on that very fact. He stepped forward as if to skirt around the perimeter to the other side of the room. Within moments, every stone player on the board drew its sword. He gulped. 

“I think we are going to have to play to get across,” Ron stated warily.

At the moment, Harry was not feeling very favorable towards his Head of House. Nevertheless, he reminded himself that he was a Gryffindor and steeled himself for this challenge.

“Tell me where to go,” he said confidently.

Ron directed him to take the place of one of the bishops and Hermione to take a rook’s position.

“And you?”

“I’m going to be a knight,” Ron replied. Harry sensed that Ron’s reasoning was that if he were to die now, he might as well be a knight.

Harry was almost in a daze for the majority of the game. His head pounded and his scar burned fiercely. He wondered in the back of his mind where Snape was or if he would show up at all. This thought was quickly discarded as unimportant when Ron announced that he was sacrificing himself.

“Ron you can’t,” Hermione insisted in shock.

“I have to! It leaves you free to take the king.”

“Ron,” she said, staring to cry.

Ron gave the order. His horse slid over in front of the Black Queen. Her blade came down with unyielding force and shattered his horse, sending Ron careening towards the wall. Hermione gave a shout as he crumpled into a heap. She sobbed but didn’t leave her square.

“Rook to D3,” she managed and walked to the space she had chosen. “Check mate.”

The sword clattered from the King’s hand as the game was ended. As soon as it hit the ground, Hermione rushed to Ron’s side.

Harry opened his mouth to ask about him.

“Is he okay?” A voice from behind Harry asked.

Harry turned in surprise. “Draco! How’d you get here?”

“I’ll explain later,” he said kneeling down next to the redheaded boy. “I think he’s just unconscious.”

“We have to keep going, I’m sorry,” Harry told Hermione gently.

“She can stay with him, the two of us will go on,” Draco suggested. Harry nodded and led the way to the next chamber.

Inside lay a medium sized unconscious dragon.  Harry immediately recognized the Opaleye as Norbert.
“I wondered what happened to-” Harry began, then stopped, his brain going foggy. For the first time he noticed the cloud of translucent fog that hung over the room.

“Somniferous fog,” Draco said, pulling Harry to the door on the other side. Harry’s eyelids drifted closed, his bright eyes showing through small slits that were closing rapidly. Fortunately, Draco held his breath and had the awareness to drag him into the next room.

As soon as they stepped through the doorway, flames erupted, blocking their return and also the sleep-inducing fog. In front of the pair sat a long wooden table upon which lay a scroll and several potion bottles of various sizes and substances. Beyond this table was another doorway blocked by black flames. Harry slowly came back to reality as the potion wore off. He blinked blearily before adrenaline came to his rescue and snapped his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Potions,” Draco said with relish. “An a riddle it seems. I’m good at those.”

He read, "Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onwards neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

Harry stepped back and allowed Draco to think. After a few moments, his eyes lit up.
“Drink this,” he commanded, handing Harry the third bottle in from the left, a small blue one. He grabbed the last one, a shade of purple that matched the flames currently burning behind them.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Positive,” Draco responded confidently. “There isn’t enough for both of us to go forward, so I’ll take this one and go back to help Hermione get Ron up to the Hospital wing.”

“Good idea,” Harry said. “I really appreciate your help, but I think I need to go forward alone.”

Draco nodded in understanding. Harry uncapped the potion and raised it to his lips. He paused.

“Did you see Professor Snape by chance?” Harry asked.

“I was in his office when this little silver alarm went off. He got really worried and flustered and sent me away. I’ve never seen him like that. I knew that something was up and sure enough I checked the third floor corridor... I’m glad you left that door unlocked, I wouldn’t have been able to catch one of those things by myself.”

Harry merely nodded, wondering why Snape hadn’t shown up. Again, he raised the potion to his mouth, this time downing it in one swig. He felt as if his insides had frozen over and dearly hoped that this wasn’t poison, for it would make for a cruel and painful death. He staggered through the flames. 

“Good luck, Harry.” he heard Draco call.

The flames lapped around him, thawing his insides but not hurting him. He gave a sigh of relief once his muscles were freed and straightened to assess his situation. It was not good.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Ah. How nice of you to join us Mr. Potter,” Quirrell said cleanly, voice unwavering in the presence of his master.

The cloaked figure that stood next to him turned and lowered its hood. The woman that was revealed would have been fairly attractive with long, straight black hair and pale, delicate skin, if it had not been for the dark red eyes that shone with an evil malevolence.

Harry gasped as pain like he had never felt before struck his scar. He glanced around the room, looking for an escape route in a frantic attempt to spare himself from the horror of whatever awaited him. Seeing his glances, the woman snapped her fingers and a ring of fire sprung up around them. 

“I have been so looking forward to this moment, Harry,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Harry? But it is your name isn’t it? What your mother screamed before she died?” She added with vicious smirk. “Harry Potter. They call you the bane of my existence.”

“Who are you?” he asked, blinking through the pain.

“Who I am and who I was are very different things. But to you, I am Lord Voldemort.”

Another wave of pain passed over Harry’s forehead, somehow giving him the strength to fight back. 

“Last time I checked, Voldemort was a guy,” Harry said, not caring that he spoke the evil wizard’s name.

Voldemort merely looked amused. “Lucretia Black was generous enough to, shall we say, loan me her body.”

The thought disgusted Harry. For the first time, he noticed that the Mirror of Erised stood on the far side of the room. Again, Lucretia saw his glance.

“Quirrell,” she snapped. “Use the boy. He knows how to get us what I want.”

Harry froze, wondering how she knew that he had recognized the mirror. It then occured to him that Voldemort was almost certainly practiced in Legilimency. Without further delay, he Occluded his mind, putting up the best shield that he had ever done.

Quirrell approached from his right and grabbed Harry by the arm. He was glad that he had left his wand in his pocket so that they didn’t’ think to take it. Perhaps they thought that he wouldn’t know any spells to use against them. He was led roughly over to the mirror.

“What do you see?” Lucretia/Voldemort snapped.

Harry concentrated hard. I want to find the stone before Voldemort does, he thought. In the mirror, he saw himself reach into his left pocket and withdraw the stone. His reflection gave him a small grin before replacing it. Harry shifted his weight. He could feel something heavy and cold rub against his body. His eyes widened.

“What do you see?” Voldemort demanded impatiently.

“I see,” Harry hesitated, “my parents.”

“You lie,” she accused, then paused. “But you could see them again.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up.

“Yes, if you join me, we can bring them back. Together, we can give you a family, people who care. That’s what you want isn’t it?” she said in a soothing voice.

Harry realized that his Occlusion had slipped and that was how she was getting into his mind, finding out his desires. He fiercely threw up a shield and she froze.

“How did you do that?” she demanded, stalking over to him. “Who taught you that?”
“I-” Harry cut himself off. Behind the mirror, in the shadows he saw someone lurking. He quickly turned his eyes back to Lucretia’s, still shielded, so that she would not get suspicious. He closed his mouth with a snap in indication that he would not say who taught him. She growled and turned to Quirrell, her back facing the person in the shadows. 

With a quick surreptitious glance, he discerned that it was Snape behind the mirror. Some of the tension in his chest eased and he took a deep breath. Harry heard her snap something at Quirrell and guessed that he had a few seconds at the most before her attention returned to him. He lowered the shields around his mind and met the Professor’s eyes.

I have the stone. She is Voldemort, he thought to the Professor, hoping that he was Legilimizing him. Harry pulled his wand out. You take Quirrell and I’ll take her.

Harry could see the confusion and concern flicker in Snape’s eyes and he wished that he knew Legilimency so that he could tell what he was thinking. Harry assumed that he thought it foolish for him to want to take on the evil dark wizard and ask the older, more experienced man to handle Quirrell. It was foolish, Harry admitted to himself. Nevertheless, he could feel that he had to be the one to face Voldemort given their history. He had no idea how he was going to do that. He turned to the woman and raised his wand.

---{}-{}-{}---

Severus stood in the darkness waiting and watching the scene unfold in front of him. He heard the cloaked woman offer to bring James and Lily back, and some tiny part of him hoped that the proposition was indeed possible. His logical mind rejected that thought and focused on how he was going to help the boy.

“Who taught you that?” the woman demanded angrily and Severus swore, hoping that he would not be the cause of injury to the boy due to his use of Occlumency. He also wished that his cover would stay intact, but the thoughts of the future currently racing through his mind told him that it would be blown soon enough. 

Harry stuttered, then Severus saw him take notice of him standing there in the darkness. He held his breath, hoping that Harry would have enough sense not to point him out. He did. 

As soon as the woman turned away, Severus met Harry’s eyes and Legilimized him. There was a haze of adrenaline but one thought stood out as if he wished it to be found.

I have the stone. She is Voldemort. You take Quirrell and I’ll take her.

Immediately, Severus opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, remembering the situation. He thought back his protest argument, but Harry didn’t give any indication of receiving it. Severus swore again and vowed to teach him Legilimency for situations like these. Not that he hoped this would ever happen again.
Why in Merlin’s name wouldn’t Harry take on the Professor? Severus was fairly sure that he could handle both if surprise was on his side, but if Harry made a move towards the Dark Lord, he would have to protect him and take on the two dark wizards. That, he was sure he could not do. The only way to stop him was to reveal himself and thus lose the factor of surprise and be in the same situation. Severus was horribly angry with the fact that he could do nothing but allow Harry to make his move and attack Quirrell himself. 

He saw Harry raise his wand to point at the woman’s back. Severus raised his as well and prepared a body bind curse. He saw a flash spill from Harry’s wand and reacted immediately.

“Petrificus Totalus,” he shouted, though Quirrell was disturbingly fast with his wand. The spell was deflected and Severus growled, advancing out of the darkness. As he did so, he tried to spare a glance toward’s Harry but he was forced to counter a Blasting curse which efficiently distracted him. He shot one back at Quirrell immediately, though his aim was off due to the fact that he didn’t give himself a moment to recover from the curse hitting off his block. Quirrell didn’t have time to block this one, though it only caught his arm rather than his chest as Severus was going for. Fortunately, this was his wand arm and he watched in horror as it flew off to the far side of the room. 

Severus gave a true smile as he pointed his wand at the center of Quirrell’s chest and fired his most powerful Blasting curse he could summon. The light streaked from the wand and Quirrell made no attempt to dodge. Inches from his chest, the effect suddenly dissipated. The spell dissolved into nothing. Quirrell gave a smirk. 

Severus suddenly remembered what Harry had said about his necklace. Figuring that it was charmed with some sort of shielding spell, he lunged at Quirrell’s neck. The sickly man was not expecting this aggressive move and he toppled back, Severus landing on top of him. A scream from behind Severus startled him, for he could not tell from who it came. With renewed determination, his hands grasped the chain and pulled it free. He considered choking the man right then, but figured that he did not have time to spare. He put him in a full body bind and turned to help Harry, then froze.

He could not believe the scene that lay before him. Severus’ heart seemed to stop beating in his chest as gripped his wand and stepped forward.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Lucretia’s back. He took a deep breath and hoped that Snape would follow through rather than try to stop him.

“Expelliarmus,” he muttered quietly. 

Her wand flew from her hand and Harry caught it in his. A look of pure shock stole over her face. Quirrell pointed his wand at Harry but a flash of light shot towards him. Harry assumed that Snape could handle him with ease and ignored their battle in favor of focusing on his own. 

Lucretia’s eyes flashed with fury. “Give me back my wand.”
Harry’s mind was fiercely Occluded. “No.”
Here eyes narrowed as she attempted to Legilimize him. For several moments they grappled back and forth mentally, neither giving any ground. While she had him distracted with a mental battle, she took an unexpected lunge towards his right hand, the one with the wands. Harry, head reeling from the fight he had just had, didn’t move fast enough. Her hand grasped his wrist, holding it tightly as she used her other hand to pry his fingers from the wands. Harry’s grip failed and she straightened triumphantly. 

Lucretia opened her mouth to either say something or shout a spell when she suddenly glanced down in alarm. 

“What did you-” Her hands bubbled and blistered. The skin fell away in a gruesome sight as her hands fell dissolved into a pile of ash. She gave a remarkably girlish shriek and lunged at Harry. 

Harry’s scar seared with pain and he raised his arm to protect his forehead. She flew into it and Harry slapped outward with his hand to push her away. His hand connected with the exposed skin of her face and within moments, that too began to bubble. A look of fury and pain etched itself across her features as she screamed out.

Harry himself fell to his knees as a wave of agony washed over him. He was sure that his scar was splitting open and he gritted his teeth. He turned his eyes to the woman perviously standing before him and saw her disintegrate quickly into a pile of ash. 

Some sort of wind stirred the ash and rose, forming a hideous interpretation of a face. It gave a shriek of its own and flew out of the room. Harry, unsure whether he had just hallucinated that, slipped gratefully into the darkness. 

---{}-{}-{}---

Severus rushed over to the fallen boy, careful to skirt around the pile of ash. He stared at the locket in his hand before slipping it into his pocket for later inspection. He pointed his wand at Harry’s chest, preparing for a Reviving Spell.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?” A horrified voice cried out from the entrance to the room. The flames had since died away, revealing the youngest red haired Weasley boy.

He ignored him, and noticed Ron being held back by his friends out of the corner of his eye.

“Rennervate,” he said softly and the boy stirred, but just barely. 

He head sputtering noises of anger emanating from the aforementioned Weasley. 

“Ms. Granger, would you be so kind as to remove your friend and fetch Professor McGonagall?” he asked without moving his eyes away from Harry. “Tell her to send for Dumbledore.”

“Of course, Professor. Do take care of Harry.”

Severus glanced up and nodded. Ron turned to Hermione in disbelief. With Malfoy’s help, she escorted him out of the room. 

Severus was reluctant to leave Quirrell behind unattended, but he knew that Harry needed help. Using Harry’s wand in one hand and his own in the other, Severus attempted something he had never tried before. He cast the same spell out of both of the wands and levitated both people at once across the room.

In this manner, he took them both to the Hospital Wing to wait for assistance. On the way, he was far more gentle with Harry than with his fellow professor; a few of Quirrell’s bumps and bruises could not be attributed to the fight alone.

As Madam Pomfrey checked over Harry, Minerva strode in, a concerned look dominating her usually stern face. 

“Is he alright?” she asked. “Oh, poor boy.”

“He checked out fine, a few scrapes but otherwise unharmed. I’m not sure why he is unconscious. He scar is horribly inflamed,” Poppy reported.

“He probably passed out from the pain,” Severus suggested, his own pain exposed in his voice.

“Then it will be best to let him sleep,” Poppy advised.

“I have sent for Albus, he should be here by morning. He was furious to say the least,” Minerva said. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”
“I shall stay.”

“Very well,” she consented. “I will send him down when he arrives.”
Snape nodded as the two women left. He watched Harry sleep for a few moments before rising suddenly and going to the supply cabinet. From the ingredients in there, he mixed a quick salve and spread it gently over the lightning bolt shaped scar. He capped the tin, sat back and waited.

Harry woke up to the bright light streaming in through the textured glass windows of the hospital wing. A headache threatened and Harry reached  up to rub his temples. His fingers brushed something mildly slimy smeared across his forehead and, using his fingers to investigate, he realized that his scar had burst open. He could not feel it at the moment, most likely because of the ointment, but he had a feeling that later on it would be painful. After donning his glasses, Harry glanced around the room with bleary eyes and his gaze landed on the chair beside him. There, Professor Snape sat sleeping. 

Harry took in the scene for a moment before deciding not to disturb him. He thought over what he remembered before passing out and, for a moment, thought it was a dream. With a sudden realization, Harry pulled his robes from the chair beside him where they had been presumably been placed after changing Harry into pajamas. He felt around in the pocket and found nothing. He should have assumed that they would take it, Harry scolded himself. He tossed the robes back to the chair, but as he pulled his elbow back, Harry knocked over a glass of water on the stand beside him. 

Snape sat up with a jolt. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry agreed. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” he retorted. “How do you feel?”

“I have a bit of a headache but otherwise, alright.”

“Do you require potion?” Snape asked factually, clearing away the spill with the wave of his wand.

Harry replied, “I don’t think so, not yet anyway. I’d like to be fully aware for a while.”

Snape nodded in understanding. 

“What happened to the stone?” Harry asked, unable to keep suspicion from leaking into his voice. He did not think that Snape would take it for himself, but Harry figured that there was no way he, as a potions professor, could resist borrowing it for study.

“It is in Professor Dumbledore’s possession,” Snape replied. When he spoke again, his voice had acquired a hard edge to it. “That was an extremely foolish act that you attempted.”

“Attempted?” Harry parroted. “I thought it succeeded rather nicely.”
“Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord might have done to you if he had even the slightest bit of warning?” Snape demanded angrily. “I can assure you, he will not make the same mistake again. If you had let me handle him, you would not be the subject of his wrath.”

“But you would. How would that be better?” Harry asked. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m already on his list for, you know, surviving.”

“That may be but...” Snape searched for words.

Harry cut off this thought process. “How do you know he is going to come back? He needs another body now, right?”
“That is not an encouraging thought,” Snape snapped, though his anger was beginning to wane. 

“I take it you got my mental message?” Harry confirmed. “I didn’t know if you’d be trying to read my mind or not.”

“In a situation like that, one must be aware of what everyone else is thinking and planning,” Snape said in a drawn out manner causing Harry to give him a look. “Of course I was reading your mind,” he said plainly.
“That’s good.”

“In fact, I am now planning on teaching you Leilimency, so that, should the need for silent communication arise again, you will be able to receive my warnings and attempts to restrain you,” Snape said in a tone that implied he would do everything in his power to prevent Harry from trying something as dangerous as that again. 

“It worked out fine, didn’t it?” Harry grumbled.

“Potter.” Snape snapped. Harry knew Snape was mad when he addressed  him by his last name. “You attacked the most powerful dark wizard that the world has ever seen and you are but a first year who first heard about magic less than a year ago. You know only the most basic defensive spells and I assure you, in a direct match up, you would be crushed like a muggle before the Dark Lord. Do you expect me to approve?”

Harry thought that over for a moment. When put in those terms, he did seem a little rash. Just a little. He responded quietly, “I’ve never had anyone that I have had to worry about pleasing before. I certainly never worried about approval.”

Snape softened at that pronouncement. “Though I disapprove, I cannot deny that you did indeed banish the Dark Lord for the moment and save the stone in the process. For that I am proud of you.”

Harry looked up, his chest filling with a glowing warmth. He said nothing but gave a wide smile, knowing that should he wish to, Snape could see what that meant to him in his eyes.

---{}-{}-{}---

Dumbledore came to visit Harry after Harry insisted that Snape get some real rest. The old grandfatherly figure stood beside Harry’s bed, gazing down at the boy who had been the stir of so much talk in only a day’s time. 

“Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, sir, thank you,” Harry replied with politeness that bordered on reverence. “I do wish they would let me leave though, I really am okay.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dumbledore promised, brightening Harry’s mood considerably.

Harry opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it silently. 

“I am sure you have questions that you would like to be answered?” Dumbledore asked. Harry wondered if he practiced Legilimency too. 

“Where is the stone, sir?” Harry asked.

“It has been destroyed.”

“But what about Nicholas and Perenelle?” Harry asked, concerned.

Dumbledore’s white eyebrows lifted at the mention of Perenelle, but he replied, “They have enough potion stored to set their affairs in order, then they will die like the rest of us,” he said, smiling kindly. “For some, death is but the next great adventure.”

“What will happen to Quirrell?” Harry asked.

“He will be sent to Azkaban, the wizarding prison,” Dumbledore said patiently.

“And the Dark Lord?” Harry asked. Dumbledore frowned lightly at the use of this name. “He isn’t really gone, is he?”

“Voldemort, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected. “Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.”

Harry nodded, still waiting for an answer to his question. 

“Dear boy, I fear the Voldemort is not truly gone. He will return, and he will return with a special, intensified hatred for you in particular. Before that happens, we must prepare you as best we can.”

“How?” Harry asked.

“Professor Snape and I are devising a plan. I suspect we shall come up with a solution before the end of the term,” Dumbledore said.

“The end of term?” Harry repeated in confirmation. “The Dursleys won’t let me practice magic at home.”

“That is one of the things we must work out,” he replied with a kindly smile. “Now do you have more questions or would you prefer I convince Madam Pomfrey to let you leave?”

Harry considered asking him why he affected Lucretia’s body in that manner. Instead, he held off. Harry feared that he would receive a cryptic and unsatisfying answer in return. He could trust Snape to give him straight fact, so he decided that he would pose that question at another time, to another person.

“Please, sir. I would like to leave,” Harry said eagerly.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

“Actually, sir, one more thing. Could Voldemort really bring my parents back from the dead?” Harry asked hesitantly. “Not that I would ever take him up on the offer but... just so I know.”

Dumbledore’s eyes turned sad. “No, Harry. Once one passes beyond the veil, they cannot come back. It would be abominable to try. You made the right choice. Even if he were able, they would not come back truly alive. That is not possible.”

Harry nodded. “That’s what I thought,” he admitted. But not what I hoped, he added silently to himself.

Dumbledore stood up and went to find Madam Pomfrey. While he was gone, Harry collected all of the cards and candy he had received as gifts from various people and put them into his bag. He intended to save them for the summer. Harry wondered idly how Dudley would react to his chocolate frog coming to life...

“You may go, Mr. Potter, but do take it easy. No Quidditch practice for a while, though you should be good for the final game,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice called from the other room.

“Thank you!” Harry responded excitedly, jumping up, grabbing his things and preparing to exit the room.

“One more thing, Harry,” Dumbledore said, approaching from behind. His slightly troubled expression made Harry nervous that he might be punished for his actions.

“I must admit that I have argued with myself over this,” Dumbledore began, “but there is something that I believe you should have.”

From within his broad cloak, he withdrew a folded shimmering cloth.

“I am hesitant to give this to you, for it used to be your father’s and merlin knows how much trouble he got into with its aid,” Dumbledore said with a light chuckle. “I do believe, however, that he would have wanted you to have it.”

Dumbledore offered the cloth to Harry. “Er, thanks, sir, but what is it exactly?”

“It is a Cloak of Invisibility. Very rare and very valuable, this is perhaps one of the best I have ever seen,” Dumbledore said in appreciation. “Though be warned, one may still hear you despite the trick upon their eyes.”

Harry nodded fervently, unfurling the cloak and wrapping himself with it. A quick glance in the mirror across the room showed only his head, which floated, grinning in the air.

“Hang on,” Harry hesitated, “is this like what Quirrell was wearing when he broke into Professor Snape’s office?”

Dumbledore gave a pleased smile. “I was not sure you would make the connection, but this is indeed the same cloak. When your father died, it was in my possession until it was stolen by Professor Quirrell.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling the fabric slide between his fingers. The slight tainted feeling that Harry felt upon hearing this news was immediately cancelled out by the fact that it was his father’s. “Thank you.”

Dumbledore nodded in dismissal. 

Harry left the wing, but not before donning his new cloak. 

---{}-{}-{}---

Dumbledore gazed at Severus over steepled fingers while reclining at his desk. The blank expression on Severus’s face was well practiced, leaving nothing open to interpretation.

“Severus, do have a seat,” Albus said, gesturing to two chairs in front of his desk. One was a simple, wooden backed piece with a small embroidered cushion. The other was, for whatever reason, a large, cushy lounge chair. Severus took a seat in the former.

“I knew you would choose that one,” Albus said with an air of familiarity.

“What do you need from me?” Severus asked, cutting straight to the point. He had other things to be doing rather than discussing his furniture preference.

“Blunt as always,” Dumbledore observed. “And here I thought you’d changed, Severus.”

“What in Merlin’s name would make you think that?” Severus said, raising an eyebrow. 

Albus did not directly answer. “Tell me, why did you not inform me of Voldemort’s hold on Quirrell earlier? I am quite certain that you knew.”

Severus remained silent for a long moment, staring down his mentor. “I knew since fall,” he said slowly. “I wanted to lure the Dark Lord into the school so that we could take care of him. If I had told you, you would have insisted upon protecting the students.”

Dumbledore studied the potions professor. “That is not all. If it was, you would have told me anyway and we would have come up with an alternate plan. What are you not saying, Severus?”

There was a pause. “He threatened Harry,” Severus said quietly. “He tried to kidnap him once, that is how I found this out. I couldn’t risk it.”

Though Snape expected a reprimand of sorts, Dumbledore smiled. “I do believe you have changed. Could you see yourself saying those very words a year ago?”

He had to admit, the very idea of it did seem to be ridiculous. “A year ago, I didn’t know that boy,” he said in a voice close to a growl, as if he were defensively angry.

“I am not saying there was not a reason behind the change, but you cannot deny that you are not the same.”

Severus did not reply.

“You are not the only one who has changed, Severus.” Snape looked up at this pronouncement. “Harry has too. Over the years, I have watched him more closely than you can imagine. This is a new Harry; a better one. Thanks, in part, to you.”

“You’ve watched him through the years?” Severus burst out in anger. “You saw him with those,” he struggled for words, “brutes? And let him stay? Did you see what they did to him? They abused him, starved him and locked him in a cupboard for weeks on end. You are okay with letting the boy who rid us, however temporarily, of the Dark Lord be treated in such a manner?” he accused.

“I did,” Albus admitted. “It was for the best.”

Severus looked disgusted.

“If you disagree so much with how Harry is treated with his relatives, why don’t you do something about it?” Albus suggested.

Severus’s eyes narrowed. “What could I possibly do other than drill some sense into their minds from afar? I cannot come within ten feet of the house.”

At this, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Ah, that old bit of magic.”

Snape stared silently at the older man.

“You could, of course, take him into your home,” Albus suggested casually.

Severus’s jaw almost dropped. “You mean adopt him? Wouldn’t that cancel the magic?”

“Dear boy, I believe you are more than up to the challenge of protecting him. That magic was necessary only because Harry was living with muggles,” he replied. “Your position amongst the Death Eaters has obviously already been compromised, it would not change things in that regard.”

“How could you even consider adoption?” Snape demanded, anger rising once more. “Is this some sort of sick joke where my colleagues are waiting behind a curtain to jeer at me when I agree?”

“Of course not,” Dumbledore said in mock offense. “You said that you thought Harry’s home living conditions horrible, did you not? Would you leave him there with his relatives for the rest of his life?”

“No,” Severus admitted. “Not if I could change it. But I cannot.”

“You can, my boy. Think of how proud Lily would be of the two of you.”

Severus stared for a few moments at the elderly professor. He swore lightly. “You are manipulating me,” he accused.

“Is it working?” Albus asked innocently.

Snape did not reply, but simply turned and strode from the room. He would not admit that it was to Dumbledore, though he might to himself.

---{}-{}-{}---

“AH!” Ron screamed, attracting a few curious glances from other students who were likewise enjoying the sunny day. Unable to resist the temptation, Harry had come up behind, Ron, invisible, and tugged on his hair. Laughing, Harry tore off the cloak. Draco doubled over and even Hermione grinned widely.

Ron, on the other hand, was not amused. “What’d you do that for? You just about made my heart stop!”

“Just a joke, Ron, relax,” Harry assured him.

“Where’d you get an invisibility cloak from, Harry?” Draco asked, calming down. “They’re pretty rare.”

“It was my father’s,” he replied proudly, not mentioning the connection to Quirrell.

“You feeling better?” Hermione inquired.
“Yeah, I’m just fine, thanks,” Harry said. “How about you?”

“I’m perfectly okay. Ron’s the one who gave us fright,” she replied.

Ron looked sheepish. “Sorry. I’m okay now though. Pomfrey fixed me up pretty quick.”

“What happened?” Draco asked. “Before we got there, I mean.”

“You got there? When?” Harry replied, confused.

“I think you were passed out at the time,” Draco said. Ron hung his head and Draco and Hermione shared a glance that went unnoticed by Harry.

“Oh, right. Well, Quirrell was working with Voldemo-”

“HARRY!” Ron cut him off. “Don’t say his name!”

Harry stared at his friend resolutely. “Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself,” he quoted.

“But still.”

“Anyway,” Harry continued, unperturbed, “He was possessing a lady named Lucretia Black,” he said, then explained how he got the Philosopher’s Stone. “Then I noticed Snape lurking behind the mirror. With an unspoken thought,” he said so as not to reveal their skills, “we made a plan. He attacked Quirrell while I got Lucretia.”

His friends’ eyes widened simultaneously.  “You what?” Hermione demanded. “Harry! That was so stupid!”

“I know, I know,” he said tiredly. “Snape told me the same thing. It worked anyway. I got her wand, then she tried to grab it back but when she touched me she burnt and disintegrated.”

“So he is gone, right?” Ron asked hopefully.

“No, just temporarily removed,” Harry said with an air of acceptance.

“I can’t believe Snape helped you,” Ron said, still in shock.

“He saved my life,” Harry said quietly. “Speaking of which, why were you in Snape’s office in the middle of the night?” he asked Draco.

“Er, well...” Draco began with a nervous glance at Ron and Hermione. “He is my Head of House, you know, and... my fellow Slytherins thought it would be fun to pull a prank on me in the middle of the night. I was upset, and I have known the professor for years through my family, so I went to him.”

He waited for their reactions. Surprisingly, Ron was the first to speak up.

With a grin, he said, “If you want a little revenge...I think I have a few brothers that can hook you up there. Wouldn’t mind seeing a few of those Slytherins after Fred and George have had their way.”

They all laughed and Draco looked relieved. They spent the rest of the day chatting amiably and catching up on much needed rest. Harry churned things over in his mind, wondering about Dumbledore’s casual comment about a “plan”. He really hoped it involved staying at Hogwarts permanently, for this was his home now.

---{}-{}-{}---

The next day, Harry went down as scheduled to visit Professor Snape. He stood quietly outside the door and knocked, waiting to be let inside.

“Come in,” Professor Snape called.

Harry entered and found Snape writing at his desk. He put the parchment that he had just completed into an envelope and handed it to the owl that waited in the windowsill. “Dumbledore,” he said quietly and the owl took off. 

“Hello, Professor,” Harry said in greeting.

“Hello, Harry,” Snape replied. “How are you?”

“I really wish people would stop asking me that,” Harry grumbled. “I’m perfectly fine, and that is not about to change.”

“That is exactly how I feel about the matter,” Snape agreed, lips twitching ever so slightly. “Nevertheless, Professor McGonagall insists that I work on being more sensitive.”

Harry was unable to contain a snort. “Sorry, sir, but that is a ridiculous idea.”

“That is precisely what I pointed out to my dear colleague.”

“And what did she say to that?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.

“That if I were the slightest bit sensitive, I would not say such things,” he stated dryly.

This time, Harry gave a full laugh.

“It is good to see that your experience has not affected your sense of humor,” Snape pointed out.

“Yours could use a little affecting,” Harry commented wryly while studying the professor’s well practiced mask of indifference.

Snape made a skeptical noise.

“Who is covering Defense Against the Dark Arts now that Quirrell is gone?” Harry asked. 

Snape’s face darkened. “I have tried to convince our wonderful Headmaster that I should be the one to take his place, but to no avail. Instead, the class is simply cancelled until the end of term exams in a few weeks.”

“Cancelled?” Harry echoed in disbelief. “So Voldemort-”

“Don’t say his name,” Snape growled.
“But Dumbledore said-”

“I don’t care what that meddling old man said; don’t say his name in front of me.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed reluctantly. “Anyway, He shows up at Hogwarts and the response is to cancel defense classes? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Indeed it does not. Whereas I know another potions professor who could take my place, a least until the end of the year, there is no one who immediately comes to mind for the defense position,” Snape said. 

Harry looked mildly troubled but let the subject drop. “Professor?”

“Yes?” 

“Why did I affect Vol- the Dark Lord like that?” Harry asked.

Snape said, “From  what Dumbledore has mentioned to me, he believes that when your mother sacrificed herself for you, she left some sort of lingering magic that resides in your very being. In your skin as well. The Dark Lord, being as evil as he is, could not bear to touch such a stark reminder of her love and thus burned up.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “So next time-”

“You assume there will be a next time?” Snape interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I expect so,” Harry admitted. “Anyway, I’ll just have to get this wand off of him and touch him somehow.”

“That will not be as easy as you may think. Next time, he will be prepared,” Snape said in a dark tone.

“Next time, I will be too,” Harry said confidently.

“Arrogance will lead you nowhere other than the path of your father, foolish boy,” Snape snapped.

Harry was mildly shocked at the sudden change in demeanor. “Thanks for those wise words, Professor,” Harry said sardonically. “But I thought that we agreed that you would not see my father when you look at me.”

“We did,” Snape admitted. “Perhaps the cruel terms were unwarranted, yet the meaning stands true.”

“Er, okay,” Harry agreed. “Will you teach me Legilimency now?”

“If you wish.”

For the next half hour, Snape instructed Harry on the basics of theory and technique behind Legilimency. He explained that it was different from other spells in that it required a battle in one’s mind.

“Do you believe you are ready?” Snape asked.

“Yes,” Harry replied, trying not to sound arrogant.

“Then go ahead,” Snape invited.

“Legilimens,” Harry muttered, delving into the darkness with his mind. When he touched his professor’s, he sensed a barrier. He tried to break through but could not. It all dissolved as Harry came back to his own mind and reality.

“Decent,” Snape said. “Again.”

Harry attempted it three more times, but could not break through the barrier. On the fourth try, he pushed up against a section of the wall and it suddenly gave way. To his dismay, another was behind it. In between, however, floated a thought, or a message of some kind.

Good, I believe you are proficient. Keep practicing, on others though, for you will never truly break into my mind. I have far more practice than you, and though you are progressing well, you lack much needed discipline. You may end the spell now.

Harry ended it with a grin, hoping that Nott tried to pull something soon so that he could test out his new skill.

---{}-{}-{}---

A few weeks passed easily as Harry fell back into the routine of class. It wasn’t until early May that Harry finally got his chance to attempt Legilimency on Theodore Nott. The four of them sat at a table in the potions classroom as Snape used his wand to write directions on the board. A knock sounded on the door.

“Excuse me, Professor, but may I speak with you a moment?” Dumbledore asked, sticking his head in the doorway.

“Of course, Headmaster,” Snape replied with passable graciousness despite the look on his face that revealed his annoyance.

They stepped into the hall and the students moved to gather supplies. Harry and Ron tossed some ingredients into their cauldrons and began the potion. It did not take long before Nott and his followers sauntered casually over to taunt Draco, as was the norm these days.

“Hey there, blondie. You a gryffin now?” he said with a sneer.

“Nott, how many times must I tell you that we don’t want your ugly face near our potions?” Harry asked with mock annoyance. “It tends to make them curdle before they’re done brewing.”

“Watch the cheek, Potter. Not everyone thinks you’re the Golden Boy,” he replied, eyes darkening.

“Golden Boy?” Harry echoed. “Haven’t heard that one before. You must really have a crush on me.”

At the same time, they pulled their wands. Snape had been instructing Harry on nonverbal spells, though it was far beyond his level. Harry could only do Legilimency this way; most likely because it was so different from other spells.

Harry used this technique now and saw in Nott’s eyes that he was about to blast Ron’s cauldron and contents so that they splashed into his face. Cruel, especially since this potion was caustic at the present stage. Naturally, Harry could not let this happen.

“Confringo,” Nott said forcefully, wand aimed at Ron’s cauldron.

At the exact same moment, Harry said “Wingardium Leviosa”  and the cauldron raised up off the table at the direction of Harry’s wand.The Blasting curse flew beneath it, hitting a bottle of porcupine quills and shattering it, sending quills scattering across the floor.

“What is going on here?” Snape’s sharp voice snapped from the doorway.

Nott made the mistake of making eye contact with him.

“Mr. Nott,” Snape said in a stern tone, “If you would clean that up then return to your seat. Put that wand away, you shan’t need it here.”

Nott turned red as his eyes narrowed. He did as he was told, however and returned to his seat. From this point, the class progressed as usual, with the addition of heavy glares focused on Harry’s back.

Near the end of class, Harry looked up to see Snape standing above him.

“Come to my office at 7 o’clock tonight. We have matters to discuss,” he said in his condescending teaching tone. 

Harry nodded, slightly worried that he would be scolded for the argument with Nott.

“I will, Professor,” Harry said.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Sit down, Harry,” Severus said after Harry arrived for their scheduled appointment.

The small boy hoisted himself into the chair and sat expectantly. 

“Am I in trouble, sir?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Whatever for?” 

“For arguing with Nott,” Harry said in explanation, brow furrowing.

Severus paused. “Of course not. In fact, you used nonverbal Legilimency, didn’t you?” 

Harry nodded.

“In that case I commend you,” Severus said. “That is a good use for the skill, preventing injury of your companions.”

“Thanks, sir?” The statement came out as more of a question.

Severus merely nodded. “You are aware, I am sure, of the fast approaching end of the year,” he confirmed. 

Harry nodded once more, seemingly deep in thought. 

“Tell me, Harry, what do you consider your home?” Severus asked.

“Here,” Harry said. “Hogwarts.”

Severus nodded soberly. “As I thought.” In that case, it would not matter, he mused.

“Why does that matter?” Harry asked curiously.

“You remember what I told you about the lingering magic that your mother left you with after her... sacrifice?” Severus said, mildly pained. Harry nodded. “The magic is in you, in your blood and in hers. Therefore, Lily’s sister, Petunia, is also involved due to the blood relation. As long as you call Privet Drive ‘home’ you shall be protected from the Dark Lord and his followers.”

Harry seemed to mull this over. “Now that I consider Hogwarts my home, the spell is broken, right?”

Severus nodded.

“Does that mean I have to stop thinking of this as home? I’m not sure I can manage that,” Harry admitted.

“There are other options,” Severus assured him.

Harry’s bright green eyes scrutinized his face. Severus had to resist the urge to Legilimize him, for that would be a habit that he would have to break if this was to work. Harry’s brow furrowed and a concerned look overtook his features.

“Sir? Why were you not able to come in the house at Christmas?”

Ah. The very question that Severus had dreaded answering. He thought it out carefully, for this could ruin everything if he was not careful.

“Harry, promise to listen to everything that I have to say, alright?” Severus said firmly. Harry nodded in agreement.

Severus took a deep breath. “I am a former Death Eater.”

“What’s that?” Harry blurted.

“One of the Dark Lord’s inner circle.”

Harry’s features darkened, but he stuck to his promise and let Severus continue.

“That is what I meant all those months ago about the bad choices I made. When my master at the time began to target your family, I begged him to leave you alone.” Severus did not add that he only plead for Lily’s life. “He refused, so I went to Dumbledore for help protecting your family, for Lily was very important to me. He helped as best he could, and from then on, I was a double agent; Dumbledore’s informant. My loyalty to the Dark Lord died on the night that your parents did. I am firmly Dumbledore’s now. Please believe that,” Severus said, his voice taking on a pleading edge.

Harry was quiet for a long, tense moment. Severus’s heart began to sink, feeling that Harry might not forgive him. 

“So you killed my parents,” Harry accused quietly, without force. “You betrayed them.”

“No, I didn’t. Your parents put their faith in one of their friends, the wrong one. He betrayed their location and allowed the Dark Lord to find them,” Severus said calmly.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Every time that I start to trust you, something comes up that makes me doubt.”

“I am truly sorry for that, Harry,” Severus said sincerely. “But that is the way with a former dark wizard such as myself.”

“You seem very accepting of what you are...what you were,” Harry corrected himself.

“I have had to accept it, or I would not have been able to carry on with my life. I would have drowned in a pit of despair,” Severus said. “I came very close.”

Harry stayed quiet for another minute. Unusually, Severus began to fidget.

“Okay,” Harry said simply.

Severus’s eyebrow lifted in surprise. “That is it? You accept that with a simple ‘okay’?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He began to smile slowly, “Unless you would like me to make a big deal out of it? I could be angry at you for a few days if it would make you feel better.”
“No, no of course not,” Severus said. “I am merely surprised, that’s all.”

“You have to understand that I’ve never really had anyone to trust before,” Harry explained. “It’s hard to shake now.”

It was Severus’s turn to remain quiet. The irrevocable trust left him feeling slightly uneasy, for he did not feel deserving of that level of loyalty. Quite honestly, he didn’t fell that he deserved any. Naturally, the one child who would trust him has never had any sort of adult figure to look up to. Severus assumed that was the only way that any child would become attached to someone like himself. 

Severus sighed and leaned back, wondering how he should approach this delicate situation.

“Harry, are you aware that many wizarding families offered to adopt you years ago?” Severus asked, a seemingly abrupt change in the topic of conversation. Severus had a plan, however; he knew exactly where he was going with this.

Harry frowned. “No. Why’d they leave me at the Dursleys’ when I could’ve grown up magical?”

“Dumbledore did not want you to grow up with pressure from the wizarding world because of your fame. Now, however, you are free to do as you wish,” Severus said.

“So you mean I could be adopted and have a family?” Harry asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

“Would you want to be?” Severus asked, chest tight.

Harry gave it a moment of thought. “I don’t know. I mean, I wouldn’t want to go off with a stranger. That would just be...weird.”

“But you do not want to go back to the Dursleys’, I assume?” he asked.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Definitely not!”

“What if someone that you knew fairly well offered to adopt you?” Severus asked, forcing his tone to be level. 

Harry shrugged. “Like who?”

“Like myself,” Severus forced out. “For example,” he added.

Harry was quiet. The silences in this conversation were really putting Severus on edge.

“Was that an offer?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes.”

There was another pause. “Oh”

Severus blinked. What did that mean? “You really have a way with words, don’t you?” he asked.

Harry smiled softly. “Can I think about it?”

“Absolutely,” Severus said, though his emotions were churning. Now he would be in a state of stressed suspense for days. Fantastic. Though Harry did have a right to consider such a life changing decision.

“I think I’ll go now, Professor. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry said a little awkwardly. “Bye.”

“Goodbye, Harry,” Severus said. The door closed behind Harry and Severus ran his hands through his hair. What just happened? What if Harry declined? The awkwardness would be next to unbearable. Rejected by both the mother and the son. That would be his luck. Severus resigned himself to a long sleepless night as he worried about what Harry was thinking.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry walked back up to the common room slowly. Once inside, he managed to avoid anyone who might want to talk to him and go straight up to his room. Harry drew the curtains around the bed in a strange state of calm, almost in a daze. He sat on his bed, sheltered from the outside world by four protective sheets of fabric and let his emotions run free. Harry never would have expected such a thing to ever come out of Professor Snape’s mouth. For whatever reason, Harry had instantly rejected the idea of accepting in his mind. To live with Professor Snape... would be difficult, to say the least. What would that be like? He hardly ever showed emotion and certainly not affection. That wouldn’t be so different from his current family, Harry supposed. But maybe Harry could change him. Perhaps Professor Snape was simply lonely and Harry could brighten him up. 

In his mind, Harry reviewed their every encounter. Beginning with the loathing that had started off the year to the rather pleasant potions and defense lessons. It seemed like Snape, or at least Harry’s impression of Snape, had changed already. Who’s to say it couldn’t go farther? To have a father... Snape wouldn’t be a horrible father. Strict, maybe, but Harry could rely on him. In the past few months, Harry got the impression that Snape actually cared.

Suddenly, the idea of adoption didn’t seem quite so outlandish. Harry could have a family. A father that chose him. It could work. Harry gave a tentative smile. It could work.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry wasn’t set to return to talk to Snape until the next evening. Though he didn’t have Potions that day, he did see his professor at breakfast and in the corridors. In the Great Hall, it was difficult to ignore the stare that he knew was coming from the Head Table. Harry tried to talk with his friends as normal, but he found his conversation skills lacking. There were too many other things floating around his mind to allow for trivial conversation. 

Harry managed to avoid Snape until afternoon on his way back from Transfiguration. They approached from opposite sides of the hall. Before passing, Snape stopped. Harry looked at him, then dropped his gaze, unsure of what it would reveal. He didn’t know what he was feeling himself, what would Snape see? Harry quickly went on his way, not wishing to prolong the awkwardness. He had only a few hours to make up his mind. Harry was sure that Snape would allow him more time, but it was not fair to keep him waiting. By tonight, Harry will have made his decision.

---{}-{}-{}---

A quiet knock sounded on Severus’s office door.

“Come in,” he called, heart racing beneath his calm and collected exterior.

Harry slipped inside, closing the door behind him. He took his customary seat and immediately began talking.

“Professor, I’ve been thinking about your offer-”

“You can certainly have more time if you need it,” Severus interrupted. He scolded himself for betraying his nerves by accommodating so quickly.

“No, it’s alright,” Harry said with a slight frown. “I thought really hard about it and I made my decision.”

Severus forgot how to breathe.

“I would really like to come live with you, Professor,” Harry said quietly with a small smile.

Severus let out a breath. “I would like that too,” he said.

Harry smiled. “Good.”

Severus’s lips twitched into an uncharacteristic smile. “I shall start the paperwork then. And you certainly cannot continue to call me ‘professor’ or ‘sir’.”

“So...” Harry trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Just call me ‘Severus’,” he said.

“Severus,” Harry said. “That sounds weird.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Does it?” he asked rhetorically.

“Can I tell my friends?” Harry asked excitedly.

“If you are certain you want to go through with it.”

“I am,” Harry said firmly. “What about the protection through blood, though?”
Severus replied, “We decided that I am more than capable of defending you until you are old enough to defend yourself. Those muggles needed all the help they could get.”

Harry seemed to be fine with this. “Can I go now then? I want to find Draco before curfew.”

“Certainly,” Severus replied. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight...Severus.”

---{}-{}-{}---

“Hey, Draco!” Harry called from down the corridor. His friend’s blonde head bobbed amongst the other students milling around.

He turned. “Hi, Harry.”

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Harry asked. At Draco’s assent, he gestured towards an empty classroom.

Once inside, Harry began excitedly. “Draco, Professor Snape offered to adopt me!”

“What?!” Draco said, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. “I’m going to have a father!”
“Harry, that’s great!” Draco said earnestly. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, “Hope you don’t mind me running off, but I have to tell Hermione and Ron.”

“Sure,” Draco replied.

Harry turned towards the door before he glimpsed the look of concerned fear that overtook Draco’s face.

“See you, Draco,” Harry called, without turning.

“See you,” Draco replied with less enthusiasm than one might expect. Brow furrowed, he left the room.

---{}-{}-{}---

“WHAT?” Ron burst out upon hearing the news. “You agreed to live with that greasy git? What’s he given you, a senseless potion?”

“Don’t call him that, Ron,” Harry said quietly. They sat in the mostly empty common room, but Hermione put up a silencing barrier so that they could not be overheard.

“I’m happy for you, Harry, but do you really think he is the best one for the job?” Hermione asked, ignoring Ron.

“I trust him,” Harry said. “He understands like no one else can. He lost something on that night too.”

Hermione nodded in acceptance, while Ron stared in disbelief.

“But why?” Ron asked.”After all of those detentions.”

“Ron, I haven’t  actually been in detention,” Harry said, resisting rolling his eyes. “He has been teaching me, and I can trust him. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you hated him.”

“You won’t understand because you have such a big family. I have never had anyone before Professor Snape. I think he actually cares,” Harry said quietly.

Ron raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I didn’t realize he had emotion.”

“You have to see past the surface,” Harry stated wisely. 

“I must admit, I’ve never exactly tried to see into Snape’s soul.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean. So you’re okay with it?”

“Do you really need my approval?” Ron shot back.

“Well, no, but you’re one of my closest friends. I wouldn’t want to lose you as soon as I get what I’ve always wanted,” Harry said.

“You won’t,” Ron assured him.

Harry gave him a smile.

“Just promise me one thing, okay?” Ron asked.

“Yeah?”

“Make sure he washes his hair,” Ron said.

The three of them laughed and shared a grin. Harry felt a million times lighter as he made his way up to the dorm, and smiled to himself in the darkness.

---{}-{}-{}--- 

“So here’s how it works,” the twins began, cornering Draco outside the Great Hall. They whispered an explanation on how to set off the prank that was scheduled for the Slytherin house. “Let us know how it turns out,” they winked. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll know,” Ron pointed out.

“You’ll be in so much trouble. How could they not realize it was you?” Hermione asked Draco.

“Hermione, we have like two weeks left of school. What could they possibly do to me in that time?” Draco asked. “This will be worth two weeks of detentions.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Harry offered with a mischievous grin.

Draco replied, “Sit back and wait. And laugh the loudest at them when they walk into the Great Hall for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Harry replied.

“I can’t believe our first year is almost over,” Hermione stated sadly.

“Good thing we are squeezing this prank in under the wire,” Fred said. “Wouldn’t want our third year to end without a bang.”

“I’ll miss you guys,” Ron said sincerely.

“Yeah, Harry, you ought to come and visit,” George offered.

Fred nodded in agreement, “Get away from those awful muggles.”

Harry hesitated. “Uh, I’m not actually going back to them...”

“Really?” They asked in unison.

“Where are you going?” George asked with interest. 

“I’ll let you know when the plans have solidified,” Harry hedged, figuring they would be even more shocked than Ron at the news.

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Well, come visit anyway.”

“If you’re allowed out of your room, that is,” Ron muttered derisively.

Harry shot him a look that was becoming too well practiced.  He could only hope that Ron would accept it in time.

“Come on guys, we’ve got revising to do. Exams are coming up fast,” Hermione said seriously.

“They’re over a week away, Hermione!” Draco complained.

“It’ll go faster than you think,” she pointed out. “Come on, I’ll help you with Herbology and Harry can help Ron with potions.”

“Ugh,” Ron groaned. “I suppose you’ll be the best in the class soon.”

“Why?” Fred asked.

“Studies hard,” Hermione said, coming to his rescue. “Let’s go.”

“Fine,” Ron mumbled.

---{}-{}-{}---

Draco woke at three o’clock in the morning and slipped silently out of bed. He crossed the room to where he had hidden the needed supplies the night before. Pulling back the long green curtain, he removed a mirror replication of the one  in the Slytherin boys’ bathroom and a large bottle. He hovered the mirror out the door then shut it gently behind him. Tiptoeing down the stairs, mirror floating behind him, Draco thought over the twins’ instructions.

“The mirror shows somebody what they think they look like,” Fred explained.

“Good for aging women in denial,” George quipped. “Horrible for insecure teenage girls.”

“Perfect for the boys though, oblivious as they are,” Fred said.

“Anyway, just hang this in place of the other one and then fill the shampoo bottles with the Weasley’s Wonderful Washing Water Whammy mixed with water of course. The rest will be up to them,” George told him.

“We added an extra spell so that anyone affected with the solution won’t be able to see its effects on others,” Fred assured him. “Don’t want them tipping each other off.”

“Rather complicated bit of magic, that,” George said proudly.

“Good luck,” Fred intoned.

Draco stepped off the last stair and out of the corner of his eye, saw a dark man staring at him.

“Ah!” he yelled, though luckily not very loud, and stumbled back.

“Quiet,” the man snapped.

“Oh, Professor Snape,” Draco said in relief.

The Professor waved a silencing charm at the top of the steps.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Professor Snape snapped.

“How’d you know I was out of bed?” Draco challenged, bolstered by his relative familiarity with the professor.

“After years of being the Head of Slytherin House, do you think I do not have motion detectors in place after hours? Now answer my question.”

“I was...uh... going to pull a prank,” Draco admitted sheepishly.

“On your own house?” Snape shot back with a raised eyebrow.

“They don’t act like they’re my house,” Draco said petulantly.

“I will not stop you, for I believe the retribution that the other Slytherins will give you will be punishment enough,” Snape said.

Draco had been worried about that. “Can someone change houses, Professor?”

“I do not believe it has ever been done before.”

“Oh.”

“Very well, carry on. Though I warn you that your father would be disappointed to have you returned at the end of therm physically mutilated,” Snape said in a bored tone.

“I can defend myself,” Draco assured him.

“I suppose growing up with a Death Eater has its benefits. Do not forget that you are not the only Slytherin with this... privilege,” Snape said sarcastically.

“Sir?” Draco asked.

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you worried about what the others will think about you adopting Harry?” Draco asked tentatively. “I’m scared to even imagine my father’s reaction.”

“I have already blatantly betrayed the Dark Lord. This is simply adding to the pile,” Snape said dismissively. “He would be angry either way.”

Draco looked unconvinced. “Well, keep Harry safe, okay?” He felt that his friendship with Harry was one of the only things that kept him reasonably safe at this point. Without him... Draco shuddered at the thought. 

“Naturally,” Snape said with narrowed eyes. He turned and exited without another word, as quiet as the animal for which he was nicknamed.

Draco took a deep breath and carried on with the plan. He entered the bathroom and set about taking the existing mirror down. It took several cancellation spells to get the Stickfast charm to release, but eventually the mirror was free. He set it gently on the floor and hung the other in its place. He stoppered one of the sinks and filled it partway with water. He dumped the powder courtesy of the Weasley twins into the water and stirred it. The resulting mixture was a faint purple color. He gathered the shampoo bottles from the showers and emptied them into another sink. Luckily, the bottles were opaque so that no one would notice the difference. With the help of a spell, he transferred the new mixture into the now empty bottles. He replaced them and took the mirror up to the dorm and hid it where he had the other one. Draco decided that he would move it in the morning while the others were showering. He, for one, would skip that step.

Draco collapsed into bed and fell asleep instantly, not a trace of guilt in his mind.

---{}-{}-{}---

“WHAT THE H-” a sixth year Hufflepuff was cut off by a sharp warning look from Professor Snape.

The twins doubled over in laughter. Harry was almost crying from laughter, as was Ron. Hermione was amused, yet retained her slightly disapproving air. Draco was the only one who seemed troubled by the occurrence, as odd as that was.

“What’s wrong Draco?” Harry asked, wiping his eyes and clutching his aching diaphragm. 

“Nothing,” he lied, though he met Harry’s eyes.

Harry knew that it was an invasion of privacy, but he delved into his friend’s mind to find out what was really troubling him, for he has been waiting in anticipation for this day. He saw only fear of retribution in his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, Draco,” Harry assured him. “If you want, I can teach you some defensive spells that Professor Snape taught me.”

“Thanks, Harry,” he said, looking relieved.

Harry nodded. “This is great,” he praised the twins.

They stared dramatically over at the Slytherin table. Almost every Slytherin boy was currently sporting hair of different houses’ colors, primarily Gryffindor. The girls began explaining why everyone was pointing and laughing. In quite an amusing serious of expressions, many of the boys’ faces morphed from confused to embarrassed before settling on anger. 

“Oh boy,” Fred said as three sixth years sauntered over to the Gryffindor table where Draco sat almost religiously. They smirked threateningly and drew their wands. Draco gulped.

“May I ask what is going on here?” Snape asked, appearing out of nowhere.

The Slytherins looked up at their Head of House. 

“Mr. Flint, tell me, what would removing Mr. Malfoy’s tongue accomplish?” Snape asked calmly. “You cannot prove who pulled the prank, despite your suspicions. I am sure things will come even in time, but for now I shall ask that you leave Mr. Malfoy and his companions alone. Understood?”

They nodded, glaring at the Professor who did not seem the slightest bit disturbed.

“I shall also request that you spread the word that if I hear reports from Mr. Malfoy about exceptionally ill treatment, your punishment shall. Not. Be. Pleasant,” he finished, with trademark pauses and enunciation between his words.
They scampered under his fierce gaze.

“Thanks, Professor,” Draco said.

Snape simply stared at him, as if judging if he was worthy of defense. His gaze flickered to Harry, then back again.
“You best improve your defense skills, despite your assertions that they are proficient. Perhaps Mr. Potter would be willing to help during your empty Defense Against The Dark Arts class period,” he suggested.

Harry nodded eagerly, glad to have something other than studying to do.

Snape gave a sharp nod and retreated to the Head table.

“He always that pleasant around you?” Draco muttered.

“Yep,” Harry said, unbothered.

Ron shook his head in disbelief once more. The meal continued as normal with the exception of the fact that everyone who walked in and glimpsed the aberrations for the first time drew fresh attention to the group. Draco smiled at his plate, finally enjoying his success.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Expelliarmus,” Draco said. Harry’s wand jerked, but he did not lose his grip.

“Almost there,” Harry encouraged. “That was the best one yet.”

Draco sighed, “You know the older boys are going to know this.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, “but they won’t expect you to. Try again.”

“Expelliarmus!” 

This time, Harry’s wand flew into Draco’s hand. He returned it with a grin.

“What’s next?” he asked. 

“Uh.” Harry thought for a moment. “How ‘bout a Full Body Bind?”

“Sure. What’s the incantation?” Draco asked.

Harry replied, “Petrificus Totalus, but I don’t really fancy you trying it out on me.” He looked around the room. “Well I guess if we drag those cushions over.”

They pulled the cushions that were piled in the corner of the empty classroom over to where they were practicing.

“Alright, I’m ready.” Harry said.

“Petrificus Totalus,” Draco said. Nothing happened.

He tried again, “Petrificus Totalus.”

This time, Harry’s arms snapped to his side and his legs sprung together. The invisible bonds were easy enough to break, however, and Harry was soon free.

“Again.”

Draco tried once more and this time, Harry’s limbs went rigid and he fell back onto the pile of pillows. Draco grinned and cancelled the spell, helping Harry to his feet.

“I think that’s quite enough for the day,” Harry said, rubbing his back.

“Thanks for the help, Harry,” Draco said sincerely.

“Sure.”

“When are you signing the adoption papers?” he asked.

“After final exams, but before we leave Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“Uh, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to er, warn you I guess...” Draco began. “You know that Professor Snape was a Death Eater?”

“Yes, I did know that. He told me before I made my decision,” Harry said, almost in Snape’s defense.

“Not everyone knows that, though some are suspicious,” Draco told him. “Anyway, I’m not sure if you realize, but Snape betrayed the Dark Lord and adopting you is not helping his case. His followers are going to be very mad at you and Snape.”

Harry thought that over. “Thanks for the warning. I think we’ll be okay, though.”

“I also wanted to tell you...” Draco hesitated, then continued quietly. “That includes my father.”

“I know, Draco.”

“You do?” he said in surprise. “And you’re still friends with me?”

Harry smiled faintly. “I believe in not judging people based on their family. I mean, you should meet my old family. Who am I to judge?”

“Thanks, Harry,” Draco said with a smile. “I was afraid that you would hate me after I told you that, but I didn’t want to pretend otherwise.”

“Not a chance,” Harry said. “Though I think I’ll decline the offer to use your library. Research is difficult enough without having to watch your back.”

Draco laughed. “Agreed. I also want to mention that I don’t believe in what he does. I don’t like the Dark Lord.”

“I know, Draco. I believe you.”

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry sat at his desk and tried to focus on the Transfiguration exam before him. 

How do object to animal transfigurations differ from animal to object transfigurations?

Harry blinked and looked at the time. He had five minutes left and absolutely no idea what the answer to this question was. 

“One starts with an object and the other starts with an animal,” Harry wrote. He was fairly confident that the majority of his answers were right and there were only a few that he had guessed on. This was obviously one of them. Harry scanned over his test and filled in answers for the ones he had skipped. Time ticked down.

“Put your quills down and roll up the parchment, if you would,” McGonagall’s voice sounded.

Harry set his quill charmed with an anti-cheating spell flat on his desk and sighed in relief.

“Two more to go,” Ron said, his stress noticeably diminished.

“Two more to go!” Hermione said in an anxious voice.

Harry laughed at the pair of them. “They’re Potions and Charms, how bad could they be?”

Ron shrugged and stood, leading the way out of the Great Hall where the tests were administered.

“Want to take a walk?” Harry suggested. 

“Fine,” Hermione replied. “A quick one though, maybe the oxygen will help my brain.”

Ron shot Harry a skeptical look. The exited the castle and made their way down near the lake. On the edge of the shore sat Neville Longbottom, alone.

“Hey, Neville!” Harry called.

“Hi, Harry,” he replied, “Ron, Hermione,” he acknowledged. Harry sat down beside Neville and Ron and Hermione continued their walk around the lake.

Harry took in his companion’s troubled expression. “Worried about what you got on that Transfiguration test?” 

“No,” Neville said, glancing down at the water so as not to look at Harry, “Well, yes, but I’m more concerned about the Potions practical.”

“Why?” Harry asked earnestly. “You made that potion perfectly the other day when Sinistra was substituting.”

“Exactly,” Neville confirmed, “Snape wasn’t there. He makes me so nervous that I can’t concentrate. I’m going to fail, I know it.”

“Don’t worry about it, Neville.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry about it’?” Neville said, the closest to angry the Harry had ever seen him. “How can I not? He breathes down my neck every time I pick up an ingredient!”
“I’ll pull some strings for you,” Harry offered.

Neville looked skeptical.

“Trust me,” Harry assured him. “He won’t go anywhere near you.”

Neville’s brow creased. “How can you stop him?”

Harry smiled. “Story for another time. Sorry, got to go catch up with my friends. See you! Good luck.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

---{}-{}-{}---

Severus gazed blankly off into space, eyes unaware of his surroundings.

“Severus?” a voice queried from the doorway. “Are you alright?”

He gave no indication of having heard them. The blurred figure came closer. 

“Severus?” it asked more urgently. After another moment of waiting for a response that seemed long in coming, the person laid a hand on his shoulder. Severus jumped and turned slowly to face the person beside him.

“Are you okay?” Professor McGonagall asked.

He stared at her for a moment before shooting up to pace the room. “Am I out of my mind?”

“What?”

“Look at me, Minerva!” he commanded. She gazed at him through concerned and wary eyes. “I am about to adopt an eleven year old boy. Someone must have slipped me something to have agreed to this.”

“You have not been potioned, Severus,” Minerva asserted. “You have simply given in to emotions that you have previously suppressed.”

Severus could read in her eyes that she had a lingering doubt as to whether he was capable of them in the first place.

“I am insane,” Severus insisted. “No one in their right mind would let someone like me be guardian of the savior of the bloody wizarding world.”

“That is a concern,” Minerva agreed. “The Ministry is not known for its forgiveness.”

“I haven’t even told Harry all of it,” he said in a suffering tone.

“You haven’t? I thought that you decided that he needed to know what he was agreeing to.”

“I told him the essentials. I fear that anything else might estrange him,” Severus said in a more emotional voice than he would have liked.

“In time, Severus, you must,” she said firmly.

Severus replied, “I know it. I just wish that it need not be so.”

“We all do, Severus. If we could change the past we surely would,” Minerva said.

Severus nodded, troubled. He could not count the times that he had wished to do that very thing, but now he was thinking better of it. This relationship would never have been had the Potters lived. As much as his heart ached for Lily, he could not deny that he was loathe to sacrifice his newfound future. His redemption.

“Perhaps it is not the past that needs changing,” Severus stated wisely. “Perhaps we best look to the future.”

“Well put, Severus,” Minerva said approvingly. “I simply came to tell you that the tests are slightly off schedule. Your potions exam will be delayed by a half hour.”

“It is no matter.”

“I thought as much,” Minerva said. “I simply did not want you to take your wrath at showing up early out on the innocent first years.”

“Innocent?” Severus scoffed. “I think not.”

“Well, then, good luck,” she told him and stepped towards the door. “Oh, and Severus? You cannot back out now. It won’t do to break Harry’s heart once more. Event hough I remain unconvinced that you are the best fit, he seems certain and that is what matters. Be careful, Severus.”

“Yes, yes, when am I not?” he impatiently waved her away. Reluctantly, she left. 

Severus strode over to his desk and sat staring at his fingertips. He remained this way, thinking until another figure came to stand in his open doorway.

“Severus?”

Severus had a feeling of deja vu from just moments before, except this voice was younger and more tentative. And male.

“Come in, Harry.”

Harry did so and stood before him. He considered the boy over his steepled fingers, still lost in thought.

“Something you need?” Severus asked. “The potions exam is in less than an hour.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I’m ready.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Many of my students come in this way. By the end of the exam, most have lost their smug attitude.”

Harry gave a small smile. Then, he said, “Actually I have come with a request. This is coming from me, though, no one told me to do this.”

“Well? Let’s have it.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Can you leave Neville alone during the test? He gets really nervous around you. He is decent at potions when you aren’t there.”

Snape smirked. “Does he? I didn’t notice.”

“Yes you did,” Harry challenged. “I think you rather enjoy the effect you have upon him.”

“Perhaps.” Severus gazed at Harry. “Very well, for the duration of the test I will not bother Mr. Longbottom.”

“Thank you, Severus,” Harry said. 

“This is a favor to you, I hope you realize. I am quite certain that he did not ask for this.”

“He didn’t,” Harry assured him.

“I need to prepare for the practical exam, if you will excuse me,” Severus said dismissively. “If you still wish to proceed with the adoption, please report here at precisely nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Really, you can stop asking if I still want to proceed. Or are you hoping I will back out?”

Severus fixed him with a piercing gaze. “Of course not. I will not have it said that I am not giving you ample opportunity to say no.”

“Don’t worry, Severus. I won’t.”

Harry headed for the door. “See you in the test,” Harry said over his shoulder.

“Good luck.”

---{}-{}-{}---

“Begin,” Snape snapped. Each of the desks in the Great Hall had been transfigured into small work stations stocked with the necessary ingredients for a forgetfulness potion. Snape swept up and down the aisles, peering into random students’ cauldrons and using his hovering presence as a form of intimidation. Harry noted that he was stalking right past Neville and did not stop. He smiled lightly to himself as he crushed up some herbs. 

He had moved on to the next step when it was his turn to be observed. Harry could feel the piercing gaze of the Potions Master on his back but he was unbothered. He simply kept stirring, ignoring the raised eyebrow that might seed worry into the heart of another student. Before long, Snape’s menacing presence had moved on to intimidate some other unfortunate child. 

“Time,” Snape called an hour later. “Put a sample of your potion into a bottle and it shall be tested and scored.”

Chinking of glass rang throughout the hall as the participants moved to comply.

“You’ll pass automatically,” Draco grumbled to Harry as they spelled the potion into the small vials.

“I don’t think that’ll be the reason,” Harry replied, picking up on the insinuation. “If anything, he’ll score me harder.”

Draco didn’t comment, though it did not seem to be out of jealousy or resentment. Harry lined up to drop his potion into the basket in the front.

“Hey, Harry!” Neville said from behind him. “Whatever you did worked, Snape didn’t bother me at all.”

Harry smiled. “I told you to trust me.”

“Thanks,” he said with a huge smile. “I think my potion turned out pretty good.”

“That’s great, Neville. Really.”

Harry dropped his sample with the rest and turned to rejoin his friends. He caught Snape’s eye as he stood in the corner. He gave a lopsided grin and received a flat look in return. This inexplicably made him smile wider as he exited the hall. 

The Charms exam was easy, requiring the use of the Wingardium Leviosa charm amongst other things. Harry grinned as he thought of the chamber of flying keys that this spell had let them pass through. He caught Hermione’s eye and gave her a knowing smile. She responded in kind and executed the spell without hesitation. It was perfect. The written portion of the exam barely made Harry pause; he flew through it as if someone were timing him. He handed it in right after Hermione and moved to take his seat. His toe caught on a small black leather bound book that peeked out from underneath Draco’s bag. Harry stumbled but caught himself. As he did so, his scar burned, then faded quickly. He rubbed it and returned to his seat, not considering it too deeply.

At last, the test let out and Ron, Hermione and Harry made their way up to the common room.
“I’m so glad that’s over,” Harry sighed.

Ron nodded fervently. “Me too, mate.”

Hermione simply looked worried. “Was the answer to number 53 part A ‘a figure-eight shape’?” 

“Hermione!” Ron snapped. “We are not dissecting our tests. It’s done. You couldn’t change it even if you wanted to.”

“Well, no, I suppose not. But really, is that what you put?”

“Yes,” Harry said, not knowing what the question was. He simply wanted to get the after-test worry over with quickly. Indeed, Hermione looked relieved.

Ron sighed. “Want to play some chess, Harry?”

“Sure.”

After three matches (all of which Ron won, though Harry was getting a little better each time) they headed down to dinner. 

“I was just getting my pieces to trust me,” Harry complained. “Now they’ll never listen to what I say.”

“Such is life, Harry,” Ron said airily. “Winners and losers.”

“Hey, are you saying that I’m-”

“Yes,” Ron said bluntly.

Harry punched him lightly on the arm and grinned in a way that implied he understood that Ron was joking.

“All in all, I’m pretty grateful for your chess skills,” Harry said thinking of the giant chessboard.

Ron smiled. “Pretty wicked, huh?”

“Yep,” Harry agreed. 

The dinner passed without incident, and then Harry and Ron retired to the dorm. Harry had trouble sleeping thinking about the appointment that would take place tomorrow. Tomorrow, everything would change. He would have a father, but also someone that he had to report to. He wasn’t thrilled about that part, but it was overwhelmed by his positive feelings toward the new arrangement. He was currently unaware of whether it was anxiety or excitement keeping him up, but Harry decided that there was no way that tomorrow could go wrong. He dearly hoped that he was right.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry stepped into Snape’s office when his presence was acknowledged. He noted that the older man seemed tense, reflecting in part Harry’s feelings. He was not tense so much as nervous that something would go wrong and he would be stuck back with the Dursleys with no true family. The very thought chilled him.

“Are they meeting us here, sir?” Harry asked, reverting to absolute politeness in his nervousness. He glanced around the office, noting that it would not fit more than a few people.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the honorific title but did not comment on it. “No, we shall be meeting in my chambers.”

“Where are those?” Harry asked curiously. It had not even occured to him that the teachers had rooms here as well. Though it should be obvious that he too needed to sleep, it seemed like Snape always seemed to be in his office. 

“You should know how to enter, should you ever need to visit,” Snape said factually. “Come here.”

He stepped to the door at the back of the office that had, at one time, contained the workshop into which Harry had intruded. Snape pressed the tip of his wand to the door and said the password.

“Lilunium Fulmucilius,” he muttered. “Remember that.”

“I will,” Harry said.

When the door opened, it did not reveal the workshop that Harry had seen before. Instead, they stepped into a small hallway that lead to a good sized sitting room. The carpet was dark green which was complimented by the black couches.  A large fireplace took up much of the opposite wall, illuminating the stone walls with its red glow. The mantle above the fireplace did not hold trinkets as one in another household might. All that sat upon the thick piece of wood was a small bowl of Floo powder.

“What happened to the workshop behind that door?” Harry asked. 

“When the password is given, the door opens to my chambers,” he replied gesturing to the room. “If not, one will simply enter my workshop.”

“Wow,” Harry said, unsure as to whether that pertained to the security measure or the room itself. He began to grin wryly.

“May I inquire as to why you are smiling in that manner?” Snape asked with a furrowed brow.

“This room is so typical of you,” Harry explained. “Green, black, cold and plain.”

Snape gave Harry a dark glare. Harry merely laughed.

“I will show you around I suppose. The Ministry representatives should be here within fifteen minutes,” Snape told him.

Harry followed his professor to the small kitchen with a sink and stove dominating the room. 

“Why do you need a kitchen?” he asked. “You eat in the Great Hall.”

“Occasionally I do not wish to join my comrades in such a noisy and irritating atmosphere. And sometimes I wish to brew my own tea.”

“Oh.”

Next, they proceeded down a small hallway with two doors off of it. Snape gestured to one of them and identified it as his room. Harry was deeply curious about what Snape’s personal space looked like, but he did not ask or open the door. Perhaps another time. The door at the end of the hallway was the bathroom. Harry thought the place as a whole unremarkable but just as he had expected. They returned to the sitting room and Harry took a seat on the couch.

“Harry,” Snape began as he sat in a chair across from Harry, “I  think it best to inform you that the adoption branch of the Ministry is not handling yours as a normal case. Being who you are, they are bringing a team of members of the Wizengamot who must deem the situation acceptable before the adoption is approved.”

“What’s the Wizengamot?” Harry asked, trepidation building.

“It is the wizarding court composed of old witches and wizards with more power than brains. Nevertheless, we must abide by them,” Snape said. “Dumbledore is on it, do not think he is who I meant by that insensitive comment. Luckily, he is one of the ones who will make the decision as he is the Chief Warlock.”

Harry did not ask about what this meant; he could guess for himself. “Okay, what does this mean for me?”

“It means that you should be honest. If they catch you lying, it will look like I coerced you and you are entering this engagement against your will,” Snape explained calmly.

“Alright,” Harry said, nerves growing more agitated at another unforeseen point of failure. 

“Simply be warned that they will try to use my background against me. They do not know for certain that I am a Death Eater, but they are strongly suspicious. It is only through Dumbledore’s good graces that I am not in Azkaban.”

Harry nodded, mind spinning too much to say anything intelligent.  From this point on, they waited with nothing but the crackling of the fire to break the silence between them. Before long, there was a knock on the door. Snape rose in a fluid motion to open it for his guests. 

---{}-{}-{}---

“Hello, Severus,” Albus greeted warmly, customary twinkle showing in his eye.

Severus inclined his head, “Albus.” He looked past the headmaster at the people gathered behind. “Ms. Bones, Mr. Doge, do come in,” he offered, stepping back from the door. They filed past, “Professor McGonagall,” he greeted as she entered, assuming she was the one whom they had called to witness. Finally, a small, grandmotherly woman entered and looked at Snape appraisingly. She held out a hand.

“Patricia Nurse,” she introduced herself.

Severus accepted the handshake with a firm, unyielding grip. “Severus Snape. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She simply nodded and continued on to join her companions. Severus let out a tense breath, then followed.

The newcomers had arranged themselves along the sectional couch so that Harry sat in the middle, with Severus in a chair opposite him. The adoption official was the first to speak.

“Hello, Harry dear, I am Mrs. Nurse. Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?”

Harry nodded. 

“When did you first meet Mr. Snape?”

“At the beginning of the school year, ma’m,” Harry responded quietly.

She smiled. “Very polite. How did you meet Professor Snape?”
Harry said, “He is my Potions professor.”

“What was your first impression of Professor Snape?”

“I do not see how that pertains to his perception of me now,” Severus snapped, knowing that Harry’s first impression of him would not be favorable. 

“It is part of the procedure,” Mrs. Nurse said calmly. “Please answer, Harry.”

“Er, well he was a little intimidating but nicer than my uncle,” Harry said honestly.

“You used to live with your aunt, uncle and cousin correct?”

“Yes.”

“What were they like?” Mrs. Nurse interrogated.

“Um,” Harry said, uncomfortable with talking about it in front of so many people. 

Mrs. Nurse sensed his hesitation, “Would you rather talk about it later when we are more alone?”

“Yes, ma’m.”

“Not a problem, dear. Do you trust Mr. Snape?” she continued.

“Completely.”

“How has he earned your unfailing trust?” she asked, genuinely curious. Severus leaned forward as well, for he was still unclear as to how that had happened.

“He saved my life more than once,” Harry said. “And he was straightforward with me when other adults thought I was too young to understand.”

“When and how did he save your life?” she inquired.

“Well the first time, he caught me when my broom got cursed and it tossed me off. Then when You-Know-Who’s servant Professor Quirrell tried to kidnap me,  my friend told Professor Snape and he came to save me. The most recent time was when I went to try to rescue the something important from You-Know-Who and I alerted him first and he came and distracted Quirrell so that I could fight the lady whose body he was possessing,” Harry said.

Summarized in that manner, Severus thought the story, while true, sounded remarkably false. He glanced over at the official.

“Well. I suppose that would be a good reason to trust him,” she said sounding skeptical.

Harry nodded earnestly.

Mrs. Nurse turned to Severus. “Why is it that you allowed the child to take on You-Know-Who while you attacked the less powerful wizard?” she asked suspiciously. “Were you loathe to attack him?”

Severus could hear the insinuations of his servitude in her voice. He responded calmly, “Harry made it known that he wanted to fight said dark wizard and I reviewed my options. Unexposed at the time, I could not stop him and any attempt to take on the more powerful wizard and thus spare the child would have resulted in an opening for Quirrell to attack him. My only option was to go with his plan so as not to put him in additional danger.”

She made a noncommittal noise and narrowed her eyes. Severus could tell that she was trying to find fault in his logic. After a moment, she turned back to Harry. 

“Last question for now,” she told him. “Has anyone coerced you into accepting this offer?”

“No, of course not,” Harry replied assertively.

She made a mark on one of the papers on her lap. “Minerva, would you kindly escort Harry to another room while we ask Professor Snape a few questions?”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Come on, Harry, let’s get the elves to send up a nice bottle of Butterbeer, shall we?” 

Harry rose with a nervous glance back at Snape before heading with Minerva to the kitchen. In the short moment that their eyes met, Severus tried to instill reassurance and confidence in his gaze. He hoped that he could exude such qualities presently.

“Severus Snape,” Mrs. Nurse said, turning to him. “I am sure you are aware of the suspicions regarding you and...Dark Magic?”

“I am,” he replied.

“Are they true?” she asked.

“I decline to answer that,” Severus said.

She looked at him critically. “We cannot, in good conscience, place a child, especially one of such importance as Harry Potter, in the hands of a Dark Wizard.”

“I do not practice Dark Magic,” he said honestly.

“Are we supposed to take him by his word?” Elphias Doge spoke up accusingly.

“I will,” Dumbledore offered.

“Albus, if I may speak freely, you are a little too trusting for your own good,” Doge snapped.

“Elphias, dear man, it does not do to judge on what you do not know. I am fully familiar with all of Severus’ accomplishments and failures and yet I still vouch for his honesty.”

Doge huffed and Snape cut in. “I will submit to Veritaserum if it must be done.”

This seemed to have the desired affect on the assembled. When they realized that he was willing to go to such an extreme, they assumed that, however doubtful it may seem, he was telling the truth.

“That shall not be necessary,” Mrs. Nurse spoke up. “May we continue?”

Doge nodded. 

“Mr. Snape, why did you rescue the child?”

“Which time?” Snape asked with a light sneer.

“Any,” she said, “or all.”

“I saved him in the beginning because, contrary to popular belief, I am not a sadistic person who wishes harm and death upon people,” Severus figured that was a safe assertion. “More recently, I had been spending more time mentoring Harry and have grown rather fond of his company. Therefore, I would obviously wish no ill will upon him. Thus, I went to great lengths to save him.”

She nodded in acceptance. “If the adoption is approved, do you have accommodations to care for the child?”

“I do,” he replied. “I inherited the family house in Spinner’s End where I spend the summer holiday. During the school year he shall live here, and I believe accommodations will be made so that he has a room in my quarters should he need it.”

“Alright. Are you prepared for the responsibility of a child?” 

Severus could not hold back a sneer. “If I were not, why would I have filed the paperwork?”

“True,” she muttered, seeming unappreciative of his condescending tone. “Are you aware of Harry’s treatment by his previous family?”

“I am, for the most part.”

“Were you comfortable with the way they treated him?” she asked. 

“Absolutely not,” Severus replied. “That is part of the reason behind the current arrangement being made. I would not send him back to them.”

“What exactly did you take exception to?” she asked. 

Severus scoffed. “Everything. The fact that he lived in a cupboard, was starved for weeks at a time, abused and punished physically, degraded mentally, and taught that magic was freakish and abhorrent.”

“I suppose that is enough. Would you change places with Harry please?” she requested.

“Certainly.”

Snape rose and entered the kitchen. He found Harry sipping a bottle of Butterbeer and chatting amiably with Minerva about Gryffindor’s chances of winning the cup. He rolled his eyes.

“Your presence is requested in the other room. Remember, Harry, be honest,” Severus warned.

Harry nodded and left.

“Hello, Severus,” Minerva said cheerily. 

Severus sat with a dark look at her bright mood and decided that he hoped Harry’s interview was quick. He was not one for meaningless conversation.

---{}-{}-{}---

“Will you tell me about your former family now, Harry?” Mrs. Nurse asked.

Harry looked around. There were still the three members of the Wizengamot but one was Dumbledore, so Harry discounted him. “I suppose. They were horrible people. I lived in a cupboard under the stairs while my cousin got two rooms; one for him and one for his stuff. He needed it, he was pretty big,” Harry added absentmindedly.

“What was your life like while you were there?” 

“Well I cooked, cleaned, dusted, gardened, painted, pretty much anything that needed to be done. They fed me most of the time, but never very much. If some magic slipped or I even said the word ‘magic’ I’d get locked in the cupboard without food for a week or two,” he said casually. “I learned pretty quick.”

The gathered adults looked horrified, except for Dumbledore who remained his usual encouraging calm. “Did they hurt you?” Ms. Bones spoke up.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes.”

“Did Mr. Snape ever show signs of wanting to hurt you?” Mrs. Nurse asked.

Harry briefly thought of the night that he intruded on Snape, then the night that he found out that Harry knew about the stone. He deserved his anger for both of those, so he didn’t count it. “No.”

“Never?” 

“No,” Harry repeated. “And he may not seem like it but he is a million times nicer than my uncle.”

“I’d hate to meet your uncle,” Ms. Bones muttered quietly.

Harry gave a small smile.

“Do you know enough about Professor Snape to go through with this adoption?” Mrs. Nurse asked.

“Yes,” Harry said confidently.

“Are you sure that you want to go through with it?”

“Yes,” he repeated.

“Is there anything else that you didn’t want to say in front of Professor Snape?” she asked in conclusion.

“No, I would say anything in front of him,” Harry said.

“Very well, will you bring him and Professor McGonagall back in here, please?”

“Sure!” Harry said, jumping up to fetch them.

As soon as he left the room, hushed muttering broke out. Harry decided that it was probably best to give them a few minutes to reach their final decision. He entered the kitchen and waited with his two professors.

After a few minutes, Harry impatiently asked. “Do you think they’re done?”

“Most likely,” Snape responded. 

Harry smiled, “Let’s go, then.” He headed towards the door and missed the fond smile bestowed upon him by Professor McGonagall. 

Once they had returned to the siting room, Mrs. Nurse made an announcement.

“We have collectively decided that, should both parties still want to go through with it, the adoption will be permitted.” She turned to them expectantly.

“I still want to,” Harry said.

“As do I,” Snape said.

She turned to the Wizengamot representatives. “Still in agreement?”

“Yes,” they echoed.

“Alright, then. We have some paperwork to do.”

Harry stumbled into the common room shortly before dinner time, exhausted. The entire afternoon had been devoted to paperwork which was an extremely tedious task. Most of the time, Harry was simply told where to sign, for  he didn’t understand the legal ramifications that Snape had to be instructed on. In the end, it wasn’t a complete adoption, for Harry still kept his last name. Nevertheless, he would live with Snape and he would be Harry’s legal guardian in all forms. That was quite enough to make Harry happy.

“Hey there, Harry,” Neville called from across the common room. “Haven’t seen you all day.”

Ever since the exams, Neville had been acting very friendly and grateful towards Harry. Harry didn’t mind gaining one more friend. “Yeah, I was a little busy but it was a great day.” He smiled at Neville and went over to sit with Ron and Hermione. 

“Well, how did it go?” Ron asked. “Should we call you ‘Harry Snape’ now?” 

The use of the potion master’s name caused a few heads to turn in their direction. Harry didn’t care; there was no reason to hide it now.
“No, I kept my last name. He is officially my guardian now, though,” Harry grinned happily.

“I’m so glad it went through, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed. “Maybe we can get the twins to sneak us a few Butterbeers to celebrate...”

“Hermione, when will you learn that anything the twins give you should be kept firmly away from your mouth?” Ron asked.

“I’m feeling reckless today,” Hermione said.

Harry’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I didn’t realize that was possible!”
“Hey, Fred! George!” she called.

They meandered over. “At your service,” Fred said with mocking graciousness.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Would you be opposed to sneaking us a few Butterbeers from the kitchens?”

“Opposed to breaking the rules?” George asked.

“Of course we are opposed to breaking the rules; we’re good students!” Fred insisted. 

“Come on, Fred, let’s go turn them in to Professor Snape.” George said, leading his twin towards the portrait hole.

Fred shook his head in mock disappointment as he walked. “Encouraging us to break rules. I thought my brother had chosen better friends,” he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. “Thanks guys!”

As soon as they were gone, the trio broke into laughter. They chatted about meaningless things until the twins had returned from their quest. Remarkably few people looked up when they clamored in holding five bottles of Butterbeer. Of course they had snatched some for themselves.

“Well, here you are, your majesty,” George teased, dramatically presenting a bottle as if it were champagne.

“Thanks,” she said simply and plucked it from his hands.

“Oh, well, I see how it is,” Fred huffed jokingly. He cracked open his bottle and plopped down on the couch across from them.

“So what’s the occasion?” George asked.

Hermione and Ron looked expectantly at Harry as if acknowledging that it was his choice to tell. Harry considered the Weasley’s a second family and saw no reason to hold anything back.

“Well, the paperwork just went through,” Harry began vaguely. “Snape is now officially my legal guardian.”

“WHAT?!” They shouted in unison. Fred dropped his (thankfully already empty) bottle which shattered on the floor. Curious glances flew their way. With a simple wave of his wand, Fred had cleaned it up.

George lowered his voice, “Harry, they can’t just force you to live with that old bat.”

“Yeah, that’s not even legal,” Fred agreed.

“You want us to do something about it?”
“We aren’t scared of him,” Fred said encouragingly.

“Though I could understand if you are...” George trailed off, a plan seeming to form in his mind.

“I’m not,” Harry insisted, trying to explain. He was promptly cut off.

“I know, you say that but, let’s be honest here. A month of living with that greasy git and you may not come out sane,” Fred said darkly.

“Really-” George began.

“Stop!” Harry said forcefully. Remarkably, they obeyed.

“Listen, nobody is forcing me to do anything,” Harry said. “I agreed, of my own free will, to let Professor Snape adopt me.”

They stared at him, dumbfounded. Harry wondered if that particular expression was a Weasley thing, for it was very much like the one that Ron had donned upon hearing the news.

“But, why?” Fred asked.

“Because he cares.”

“Harry,” George said, almost chastising. “Do you know how many people in the wizarding world would be more than willing to adopt you? Mum and dad volunteered to help turn them away when they owled by the hordes after your parents died. They would all care. But Snape... really?”

Harry shook his head. “They might care, but Snape understands. He can help me defeat Voldemort, I know it.”

They cringed at the name. George looked down at his drink dejectedly, as if it had lost all flavor. Fred slapped Harry on the shoulder.

“Well, if anyone deserves to be happy, you do. Can’t say I agree with the way you’re going about it but it’s your choice.”

“Thanks,” Harry said gratefully.

“Me too, mate,” George offered.

Harry smiled. 

“So, uh, does he really sleep in a coffin?” 

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long night. “NO.”

---{}-{}-{}---

The next morning, the owl droppings hit the fan. Almost literally. Harry had woken up, eager for the final Quidditch match of the season. If they could win by 210 points, they would tie with Slytherin; 220 and the house cup would go to Gryffindor. He and his friends hurried down to breakfast, woken early by the golden rays of sunshine streaming through the windows. Just as Harry began loading his plate with potatoes, the mail came. 

Harry noted the unusually large number of owls, but figured that, with only a few days left of the term, students were arranging their return trip home. He shrugged and picked up his pumpkin juice.

Hermione had paid the owl for her Daily Prophet and unrolled it, reading the headline aloud. “Suspected Dark Wizard Forces The Boy Who Lived Into Adoption.”

Harry spat out his mouthful of juice. “What? Let me see that.”

Suspected Dark Wizard Forces The Boy Who Lived Into Adoption

By Rita Skeeter

Yesterday morning, papers were signed which turned the Boy Who Lived’s life over to Severus Snape, 32. Snape is the Potions Master at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and is described less than favorably by his students. One Percy Weasley, 15 and a Gryffindor prefect, has this to say about his Potions professor, “Professor Snape, while a good teacher is very cold an distant. He lives for intimidation; simply walking into a room makes everyone go quiet. He is a favorite horror story of Hogwarts used to frighten first years and prospective students.”

When I asked students of the Slytherin house what they thought of the aforementioned comment about their Head of House, Pansy Parkinson, 11, said this, “Professor Snape can be very mean. Most of the time, he leaves us Slytherins alone, but he really loathes the Gryffindors. I would hate to be one of them. Harry Potter has been in detention with him most of the year. I should probably feel bad, but I don’t.”

It is shocking to imagine that the Ministry of Magic allowed this adoption to go through. It is the common consensus here at Hogwarts that no child in their right mind would willingly agree to such an arrangement. Being a Potion Master and quite possibly a Dark Wizard, it would not be difficult for Snape to intimidate or coerce Harry Potter into saying that he indeed wanted to be adopted. In the opinions of many outraged readers, the Ministry and Wizengamot representatives should not have allowed the adoption of the child without assurances that he was acting of his own accord. The Ministry refuses to comment. I assure you that I will do everything in my power to give you, my faithful readers, the inside scoop as soon as possible. Stay scandalous! 

-Rita Skeeter

Immediately after he finished reading, Harry looked up at Snape at the Head table. He wondered briefly if Legilimency was affected by distance, for he could not tell what lay beyond that impassive face. Harry attempted an apologetic look and passed the paper on to his friends. he braced himself for what was about to come after the other students read the paper. Harry looked up again and saw Severus descend from the Head table. He headed over to the Gryffindor table, presumably to talk to Harry. Harry watched his progress. About halfway down, Snape stopped and stood behind one unfortunate student: Percy Weasley.

“That stupid git. I can’t believe he is my brother,” Ron muttered watching the scene.

The students around Percy stopped talking. He looked around, confused at the lack of chatter. Snape leaned down and whispered something in Percy’s ear. He paled and sat rigidly. Snape straightened and smoothed his robes with a satisfied smirk. Harry and Ron broke into laughter. Snape continued on towards Harry.

“Mr. Potter, do I intimidate you?” he asked, loud enough for many of the surrounding students to hear.

“No, sir.”

“Then you will not be opposed to coming to the office of a ‘suspected Dark Wizard’ before the Quidditch match?” Snape said with a hint of dry humor. 

“Of course not,” Harry replied, grinning. “I mean, what’s one more detention?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Cheeky brat.”

“Yep,” Harry agreed. Severus swept away to repeat his intimidation process with Pansy. Draco found this exceptionally amusing.

“So is it true, Harry?” Neville asked, leaning forward from a few seats down.

“That Snape forced me?” Harry replied. “Of course not. But the adoption, yes it is.”

The people within hearing distance broke into chatter. 

“So that’s how you got him to stop bothering me,” Neville said, clarity dawning at last.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned. 

“But why Snape, Harry?” someone yelled.

“I would like to know the same thing,” a feminine voice seconded behind Harry.

Harry turned to find a woman in obnoxious purple jeweled glasses framed by curly blonde hair. She was wearing so much green that Harry wanted to throw up. “Uh, who are you?”

“Rita Skeeter, dear. How lovely to meet you,” she said, shifting her green quill to her other hand in order to offer Harry a handshake. He didn’t take it. “Oh,” she huffed.

“Why are you here?” he asked with narrowed eyes. Almost all conversation along the Gryffindor table had stopped in favor of gaining some new gossip.

“I came a little early for the Quidditch match and thought I’d pop in to see if you had anything you wanted to tell the public,” she said sweetly.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?” she said eagerly, poising her quill.

“Yeah-” 

“Harry!” Snape warned, descending from behind Skeeter.

“-off,” Harry finished, garnering him a glare from Severus.

“Sorry dear, didn’t catch that. Could you repeat?” she asked in a high, annoying voice. 

“No, he cannot,” Severus spoke up.

“Ah, who do we have here? The infamous Severus Snape it seems,” Skeeter smiled and offered her hand once more. Snape swept it away, making Harry feel a rush of fondness for the man.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“No?” she asked innocently. “I simply wanted to hear Harry’s side of the story. Not that he will say anything now that you’re here...”

“He didn’t force me to do anything,” Harry said fiercely.

“Harry, dear boy, why would I believe that when he could be intimidating you right now?” She asked with false sympathy. Switching slyly into interview mode, she said, “Why on earth would anyone choose him,” she gave Severus a look of disdain, “over any one of the other families willing to adopt you? How can you trust a Dark Wizard?” 

Harry growled, growing angry. “I’ll tell you how I know I can trust him. He saved my life no less than four times. He was there for me when no one but my friends were. He rescued me from my muggle family where I was starved and locked in a cupboard. He may be a suspected Dark Wizard, but I would choose him over someone like you any day.”

Snape’s hard expression softened at Harry’s fierce defense of him. “I believe that is all that he has to say. Now would you kindly leave us alone before I am forced to prove the Dark allegations one way or another? It shall not be pretty.”

She gave them one last look of utmost suspicion before shoving her notebook and quill into her crocodile skin purse and snapping it closed. “Fine, but  just know that I don’t believe you.”

“Ms. Skeeter, do you have any idea how little your approval matters to me?” Severus said in a bored voice. 

Rita huffed and stomped out of the hall. Spontaneously, the Gryffindor table broke into applause. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had been taking notes on the whole argument so that by the end of the day, the entire school would know.

“Come, Harry,” Snape said, though not roughly. “We have caused enough stir for one morning.”

“I think so,” Harry agreed, rising to follow him. He waved at his friends, figuring that there would be much to talk about later.

They made their way down to Snape’s office in the dungeons. Once inside, Harry immediately began to apologize.

“I’m so sorry, Severus. Everyone is really going to hate you now,” Harry said. 

Snape fixed him with a stern glare. “How in Merlin’s name is this your fault?” He waved his hand dismissively. “I knew that something like this was bound to happen. Nobody would expect the hero of the wizarding world to choose a Dark Wizard like me for a guardian. They got that right at least.”

“But I did!” Harry insisted.

“I know that, Harry,” Severus assured him. “That is what matters.”

“I guess.”

“I have lived most of my life being hated by the public,” he smiled wryly. “Though if you have anything to say about it, that may change.”

“It will,” Harry vowed. “Do you think she will print what I said?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “but I doubt it. It would require admitting that she was wrong.”

Harry grinned. “Wouldn’t want that, would she?”

“I think not.”

“What did you say to Percy?” Harry asked.

“I assured him that I was well aware of the stories about me and they are false. I did, however, insinuate that they just might become true if he continued to associate with Skeeter,” Severus said with a smirk.

Harry smiled. “I daresay you intimidated him.”

“Yes, I suppose I did,” Severus replied.

Severus pulled open a drawer in the side of his desk and rummaged through it. 

“There are only a few days left of the term, and I want you to have this as, say, a celebration present,” he said, pulling out a leather bound book with a spiky spine that changed colors sporadically. “I had Hagrid help put this together for me; I was unsure of the best way to cut up a Streeler shell.”

He slid it over to Harry who was careful not to touch the poisonous shell.

“It is charmed so that it cannot hurt you,” Severus pointed out.

Harry nodded and opened the book. Inside were all of Severus’s pictures of his mother. The first page held the one that he had rescued from the Dursleys. Harry flipped through, recognizing almost all of them. He smiled. Towards the end, there were a few that featured his father or Harry himself. He looked up at Snape curiously.

“Hagrid,” he said by way of explanation. Harry nodded and made a mental not to thank him.

When he had reached the end of the pictures, he noticed that over half of the book was left unfilled. 

Snape saw his look and said quietly, “For you to fill up with your own memories.”

Harry’s throat tightened. “Thank you, Severus.”

Severus gave a rare smile, making him look years younger.

Harry pulled the crumpled up newspaper from his pocket and used a careful spell to sever the picture that was next to the article. It was one of Harry and Snape at the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley on their first trip. As he arranged it in the album, he idly wondered how long Skeeter had been following him, waiting for something to happen. He dearly hoped that a random person had taken the picture and sold it to Skeeter. It would make him feel marginally better. Harry looked at the picture on thin newsprint and watched himself lick the ice cream. He saw a large glob drop onto his robes and watched Snape’s subsequent look of horror. 

“I wonder why they picked this picture,” Harry mused out loud. He grinned. “This was you on a good day.”

Severus lifted a brow, but seemed pleased that he was included in the album. “Was it? Do not forget that I loathed you then.”

“It’s easy to forget,” Harry said honestly. “Thanks again, Severus.”

He nodded. “You best get ready for the match. Hopefully you can catch that Snitch fast.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “If I catch it too fast, Slytherin will win the cup.”

Again, Severus’s eyebrow shot up as if to say “And that is bad how?”

Harry shook his head, said goodbye and left Severus to think about the horrible things that he could do to get even with Rita Skeeter...

His thoughts were interrupted by Harry poking his head back in.

“Severus?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize; during the adoption interview, I forgot to mention the time that you saved my life after Quirrell broke into your office and hit me with a blasting curse,” Harry said.

Severus’s brow knitted. “That is quite alright. How did I save your life, though? I merely transported you to the hospital wing.”

Harry struggled for words. “I was kind of floating in the dark, then I heard you all my name and I found my way back. Anyway, see you later.”

On that confusing note, Harry was gone, this time leaving Severus with even deeper thoughts.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry circled the field, relishing the soft summer air on his face. He had used a special tinting spell on his glasses to keep the sun out of his eyes; it worked like a charm. For the final match of the season, the Gryffindor team was definitely feeling the pressure to win. From what Harry had heard, the Hufflepuff team was a challenge in a different way than Slytherin had been. Their values being qualities such as dedication, hard work, and tolerance, they trained hard and were thus rather good. Where cheating had been a concern with Slytherin, Harry hoped that the Hufflepuff value of fair play would work to Gryffindor’s advantage.

Harry lapped the field, noting the score of 10 to 40, Gryffindor. He grinned wryly thinking that despite their training, Gryffindor had better players. Or maybe he was just biased. Either way, he kept his eyes peeled for the Snitch, knowing that if he caught it while they were 70 points ahead, Gryffindor would win the cup. Within the next few minutes, the score had climbed to 10 to 60. Harry realized that the Weasley twins had taken out a few of the Hufflepuff players with temporarily incapacitating injuries. Unfortunately, the Seeker was alive and well and currently darting around Harry as if toying with him. For the most part, Harry ignored the yellow and black clad boy in favor of searching for the Golden Snitch. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the other Seeker dart away. He cursed, hoping that this would not be a repeat of the ending to the Slytherin game. He sped to catch up with the Hufflepuff. He was feet behind him when Harry saw the Snitch for himself. He pushed his Nimbus 2000 faster and came up level with the older student. Harry bumped into him lightly, by accident. It was not taken as such by the Hufflepuff, however; Harry received a sharp elbow in the ribs which made his eyes water. What the other Seeker did not expect was for it to cause Harry to try even harder in his fervor to get even through winning.  Harry stretched his fingertips and brushed the Snitch. The Hufflepuff’s arm was longer, so even though he was behind Harry, their hands were almost parallel. With one last desperate lurch, Harry grabbed the struggling golden ball. A whistle blew and the game was over. 

Harry glanced at the score. During his struggle, the Hufflepuffs had scored a few goals. The final score was 40 to 230, Gryffindor. Harry sighed. This put them 20 points behind Slytherin who would now win the Quidditch cup. He imagined Severus’s smug face and berated himself. He flew over to join his team.

“Sorry guys, I had to catch it. The other Seeker was right beside me,” Harry said, resigned.

“It’s alright, we may still win the house cup,” Angelina said encouragingly.

“Eh, after this we should still be down a good 90 points,” Fred said sadly.

“It’s amazing how smart  he can be when it comes to stuff like this,” Alicia grumbled.

“I just hate to see the Slytherins win again,” Wood said, clearly disappointed.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated. 

“Harry, will you stop apologizing? It’s not your fault,” Angelina snapped. “Sorry.”

Harry gave a halfhearted grin at the irony. 

“Come on guys, its still a Gryffindor win, George and I will snatch some food and meet you in the common room,” Fred said.

Everyone agreed and departed. Harry found Draco waiting to walk up to the castle with him.

“Don’t look so smug,” Harry advised.

“Sorry,” Draco said without changing his expression. “I can’t wait for next year so I can try out.”

“We’ll still beat you even if you’re on the team,” Harry said arrogantly. 

“Yeah like you beat Slytherin this year?” Draco teased.

Harry spoke dismissively, “That was a fluke.”

“Yeah, ok,” Draco responded, following Harry to the Gryffindor common room.

“You want to come in and have some food?” Harry offered.

“Er, is that even allowed?”
“I’m essentially an honorary Slytherin now, why can’t you be an honorary Gryffindor?” Harry suggested genuinely.

“Um, okay.” Draco hesitated before stepping through the portrait hole.

The room silenced at his arrival.

“What’s a Slytherin doing in here?” someone called from the back of the room.

“I invited him,” Harry said boldly. “Problem?”

There was silence. After a few moments, conversations started up again and the atmosphere returned to normal. Harry spied three of the Weasleys huddled in the corner looking standoffish.

“Go grab some food and find Ron and Hermione, okay?” Harry instructed.

“Alright,” Draco agreed.

Harry headed over to the trio, nonchalantly trying to hear what they were saying. 

“What’d you talk to her for?” Fred demanded angrily.

Percy mumbled something unintelligible. 

“What was that?” George asked roughly.

“She said that she had connections at the Ministry. Could get me a job right out of Hogwarts,” Percy said just barely loud enough for Harry to hear.

“So you intentionally slam Harry and Snape’s new arrangement for a job connection?” Fred said incredulously. The idea of wanting to work was foreign to him.

“Come on, you really think Harry chose this?” Percy asked.

Harry ducked into a corner and hunched over as Percy glanced around surreptitiously.

“We believe him, why won’t you? Harry is practically family,” George said, “don’t ruin this for him.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you want him as an enemy,” Fred warned.

“I wouldn’t expect you slackers to understand,” Percy said condescendingly. “I actually want to do something with my life.”

At this, Harry decided to leave before he was noticed. He slipped away, grabbed a pumpkin juice and sat down with Neville, Ron, Hermione and Draco.

“Hey there, Harry,” Hermione said brightly, as was her prerogative.

“Hi,” he said normally and fell into the rhythm of conversation.

The next to last night in Gryffindor tower passed without further event, though an air of sadness hung in the air. He reminisced, thinking of the first time he had step foot in his dorms and stared with such bright interest at the embroidered curtains and soft sheets. Harry smiled as he climbed into bed. He was simultaneously sad and excited to be moving on. After all, he would be back next year. The summer would be new and hopefully interesting. Harry fell asleep imagining what he could do with his free time...

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry and his friends eagerly took their seats for the end of term feast after spending a lazy day simply enjoying each other’s company. Harry waited in anticipation for food to appear on the silver plates in front of him. Though the every day Hogwarts fare was very good, feasts entered a whole new field. Harry would swear that the food is charmed so that you can eat triple your normal stomach capacity. This was completely fine with Harry, and Ron for that matter. In addition to the excessive amounts, the food was fantastic. Harry’s mouth began to water simply thinking of it. 

Chatter filled the hall while the students waited for the food. The Great Hall was decorated with green and silver in honor of the Slytherin house who had apparently won the House cup. Harry sighed, hoping that it would have been Gryffindor. Silence descended on the hall as Dumbledore stepped up to the podium.

“Ah, another interesting year at Hogwarts!” The Headmaster said fondly. “I’m sure you all know of the events of which I speak.”

A murmur spread through the hall. 

“Yes, yes, rather abnormal, even for Hogwarts. Even so, Hogwarts may not even be here if it were not for the bravery of a few students. Therefore, I have a few last minute points to award.”

All eyes snapped to Dumbledore, most bright with interest with the exception of the glaring Slytherins.

“First, to Ronald Weasley for an exceptionally well played game of chess,” he said with a smile, “I award 50 points.”

Fred and George gave a hoot, “For the rest of the day, he is our brother!”

Ron grinned wildly.

“Next, for Miss Hermione Granger,” Dumbledore began again, “for keeping a cool head in the face of pressure and for proving the mastery of her Charms, 50 points.”

Hermione’s grin matched Ron’s. 

“Now, to Harry Potter, for having the bravery to stand true in the face of evil and thus protect the instrument that could have facilitated the return of Voldemort. I award to him 50 points.”

Harry’s spirits soared; they were now well in the lead!

“Finally, I award 50 points to Draco Malfoy for calm use of logic despite the pressuring situation,” Dumbledore said as clapping rang through the hall. He held up a hand. “I also believe that another reward is in order. For having the courage to stand up to those of his own house in favor of tearing down the divisions between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Draco has shown true bravery. Therefore, I make the offer, should he choose to accept it, of a house change. This is unprecedented, but I do believe it is appropriate.”

All eyes turned to Draco at the Gryffindor table. He grinned wryly. 

“It’s not a difficult choice,” Draco said loudly, though the silence in the hall was so complete that everyone could hear him. “Thank you, Headmaster. I accept.”

Clapping started slowly with the Gryffindor table then spread through the Hall, stopping before the Slytherin table. They looked vicious. 

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “I do believe that a change of decoration is in order.”

With a wave of his wand, the banners turned to bear the Gryffindor colors of red and gold. Food appeared in heaping piles and everyone helped themselves. Harry was scooping potatoes onto his plate when he heard Draco groan.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked. “You’re a Gryffindor now, that’s great!”
“But what’s my father going to say?” he asked, worried.

“Oh. Uh, good luck with that,” Harry said unhelpfully. He really had no idea how to assist.

“Thanks,” Draco said sarcastically, but seemed to force it from his mind in favor of spending the last dinner in high spirits.

By the time the desserts had appeared and been devoured, Harry felt as if he would have to be levitated back up to the common room. He groaned and rubbed his stomach. After a physical struggle, Harry collapsed into bed and was instantly out. Harry did not even notice that another bed had been added to the dorm room and that Draco’s things had been moved to accompany it. He was simply too tired and full to take note.

---{}-{}-{}---

The Hogwarts Express was set to leave at noon. Harry woke early and began packing his trunk with a strange attention to organization. He unpacked and repacked several times before realizing that he was simply stalling. Harry was hesitant to leave Hogwarts, for he did not know where Snape would take him. For instance, did the dark reclusive Potions Professor have a house or did he live at Hogwarts all summer? Perhaps Harry should not even be packing. With this thought lodged in his mind, Harry went down to the dungeons to ask what he should do. 

“Do you have a house?” Harry asked bluntly after greeting his guardian.

“Yes, as it happens, I do,” Severus replied. “Though I will not be taking the Hogwarts Express obviously,” he said with a sneer.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “So I should pack but not leave with the others?”

“I assume that you would like to spend these last hours with your friends on the train?” Severus asked.

“Well, yes, but not if it causes a problem,” Harry admitted.

“I will Floo Mrs. Weasley and see if you cannot go to the Burrow until I come to pick you up later tonight. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes!” Harry said eagerly. 

“Alright. Anything else that you need?” Snape asked.

“No,” Harry said after a moment of thought. “Was it your idea to have Draco move houses?”

Severus’s gaze scrutinized Harry. He inclined his head slightly. “It was. I could see that the situation was not working and this seemed the best remedy.”

“What about Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked. “Draco seemed worried about his reaction.”

“In all honesty, he should be,” Severus replied. “He will not be happy about this change, yet I expect that Draco realized this before he agreed. I will do my best to protect him, but I have exposed myself as a traitor to the Dark Lord and therefore to his supporters.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Will he be okay?”

“Of that I am sure. He is a resilient child,” Severus replied.

Harry’s fears had far from abated, but he felt a little better. “Okay, see you at the Burrow, Severus.”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

---{}-{}-{}---

After Harry’s departure, Severus began to take care of some last minute business. He pulled open a desk drawer after unlocking it with a charm. From inside, he drew out a locket. He studied the filigree “S” engraved on the front for the hundredth time before deciding that he should tell Dumbledore about it. Severus had held off until this point thinking that it was an ordinary shielding amulet and that he could discover what it was imbued with. All of his diagnostic spells came up as cursed but nothing else. He could not, however, no matter the method, discern what was so cursed about the object. He had tried to open it, but to no avail. At length, he decided that Dumbledore could waste his time with the object, for he had had enough. 

Severus stepped over to the Floo and called for Dumbledore’s office. He stepped through to meet the Headmaster and handed over the piece of jewelry, having no knowledge of the magnitude of the situation, nor its eventual effects on his newly constructed family. He returned to his office and continued packing in peace.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry helped his friends push their luggage to the train for he had left his behind. Severus had said that he would bring it. After all, it was only one trunk. Draco, Hermione, Ron and Harry snagged an empty compartment and settled in. With a loud noise, the train pulled away and Hogwarts grew smaller and smaller.

“I’ll miss it,” Harry said sentimentally, thinking of his first true home. 

His companions nodded in agreement. A solemn silence descended for a few moments. 

“Anything fun planned for the summer?” Hermione asked to ease the tension. 

Draco and Ron shook their heads.

“We’ll that’s disappointing. You, Harry?” she asked.

“Er, I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“Right.”

“What about you?” Ron asked Hermione.

She replied, “A few camping trips I think. Nothing earth shattering.”

It was ironic that after wanting so badly to spend these last few hours together that they had run out of things to say. They continued a sparse, awkward conversation until the food cart came by and they all bought chocolate frogs.

“Another Dumbledore, who’d you get?” Harry asked Draco.

“Ravenclaw.”

“I got another Morgan Le Fay, want to trade?” Ron asked Harry. They swapped cards.

“Circe,” Hermione announced, opening hers. “She’s pretty. Oh, it says she was known for her potions. Probably brewed one for beauty.”

“Morgan Le Fay sure could’ve used one,” Ron pointed out causing them to erupt in laughter and revert back to their usual chatting selves. 

The miles magically melted by beneath the rumbling train and before long they had arrived at King’s Cross station. As the train rolled to a stop, Hermione wiped a small tear from her eye. 

“I’ll miss you all so much,” she said in a wavering voice. “Please write,” she implored, staring sternly at Harry as if he would forget. 

“I will,” he promised. The others did likewise.

“Oh,” she cried, launching at Ron with a fierce hug. He stumbled back, knocking his knee on the seat and collapsing.

“Sorry,” Hermione said sheepishly, righting herself.

“ ‘S alright,” he replied.

Harry and Draco also received hugs, albeit rather more gently.

Ron helped Hermione out with her bags and Harry waited to help Draco.

“Draco, keep me informed about what your dad says, okay? If there’s a problem I’m sure Snape would help.”

“I’ll be sure to do that, Harry,” Draco said. “Thanks.”

Harry nodded and exited the train. On the platform, happy families were being reunited in joyous scenes. Harry smiled and scanned the crowd. A round, ruddy face caught his eye. Harry gulped. He had forgotten to inform the Dursleys that he was no longer their responsibility. As much as they hated Harry, he had been their house elf; now they had lost their servant. Making eye contact, Uncle Vernon advanced with heavy steps toward Harry.

“Er, Harry, who’s that?” Draco asked warily.

“My uncle,” Harry replied weakly.

“Wow. I’d prefer Snape too.”

Vernon reached Harry in less time than he thought possible for the weight he had to lug around.

“Ready, boy?” he snapped. “Grab your trunk.”

“Uh, I don’t have one, sir,” Harry replied.

“What do you mean you don’t have one? You went this whole year with no clothes? No money? Where is your money? Have you lost it?” Uncle Vernon fired questions rapidly, color rising to his cheeks.

Harry took a steadying breath. “I’ve been adopted, sir.”

This stopped Vernon in his tracks. “What? By who?”

“Severus Snape.”

“That dark, creepy bloke that came to pick you up?” Vernon asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Harry said simply.

“Why weren’t we told?” he demanded.

“I expect they owled you,” Harry said by way of explanation.

“Huh,” he replied grudgingly.

Harry shifted awkwardly. “So, uh, have a nice life.”

With those parting words, Harry moved to leave.

“Not so fast, boy!” Vernon growled, grabbing at Harry’s arm. Harry twisted out of his grip and Draco drug him deeper into the crowd. Harry heard Vernon yelling at him from behind. He shivered. 

“Merlin, he’s pleasant. I see why you were so excited about the adoption,” Draco said earnestly.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, spotting  a group of redheads a few feet away. “I have to go home with the Weasleys.”

“Okay, my father’s over there,” Draco pointed. Harry saw the same menacing figure that he remembered from Diagon Alley.

“Good luck, Draco,” Harry intoned in reference to telling his father about the house change. “And goodbye. Keep in touch.”

“I will, Harry. Thank you for everything,” Draco said.

Harry smiled a bit sadly. 

“Bye, Harry.”

“See you, Draco.”

His blond head disappeared quickly in the crowd. Harry turned to join the Weasleys.

“There you are, Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley said through a crushing hug. She pulled away and looked him up and down. Still much too skinny though.”

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said politely.

“Oh, dear,” she said fondly. “Now that you’re all here, we best get going.”

They ran through the wall in pairs then proceeded nonchalantly on the other side.

As they walked, the twins were telling Ginny horror stories about the year that had just come to an end. 

“And the Slytherins cursed the bench last week so that anyone who sat on it was frozen to the seat,” Fred said.

“They did not,” she protested.

“Sure did,” George said. “Right, Harry?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry hesitated, caught unawares.

“Ha! You’re lying.” Ginny accused.

The twins shared a look. “Thanks, Harry,” they said in unison.

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he allowed the others to walk ahead so that he was alone with the twins.

“How do you talk in unison like that?” Harry asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

“We’re twins, we share one mind,” George said capriciously.

Harry scoffed. “Is that common mind called ‘Legilimency’?”

They looked horrified, “He’s onto us!”

Harry laughed and threw up some Occlumency blocks.

“Well, sometimes,” George admitted. “Sometimes it’s just because we know each other so well.”

“How’d you know?” Fred asked.

“Go ahead, read my mind,” Harry challenged. Fred met his eyes and tried, but ran into a block.

Harry winked. 

“Snape teach you that?” George guessed. 

“No,” Harry lied. “I’m kinda impressed though; Hermione tells me it takes a lot of skill to do it wandlessly and nonverbally.”

They looked proud. “How do you think we always know the best jokes to crack?” Fred asked.

Harry laughed again and jogged to catch up with the others.

---{}-{}-{}---

Back at the Burrow, they sat playing chess until Snape arrived. It was late afternoon and Mrs. Weasley was preparing dinner in the kitchen. Severus stepped in to announce his presence.

“I’m here for Harry,” he said bluntly, startling Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, and hello to you too, Severus.”

He nodded distractedly, then began to head into the adjoining room in search of the child.

“Hold on a minute, Severus,” Mrs. Weasley said in a bossy tone that could only come from raising a houseful of boys. “Was anything the Prophet said true?”

“No, of course not. Ask Harry,” Severus replied defensively.

“I didn’t think so,” she said, sounding reassured. Mrs. Weasley then began to grin wryly. “So what was that about not giving him any ‘love and care’?” she quoted from their conversation over the summer.

Severus scowled. Without a reply, he left the room. He found Harry playing chess and nodded approvingly.

“Are you ready, Harry?” he asked.

“Yeah!” the boy replied. Severus waited patiently through a sad goodbye with the youngest Weasley boy, then raised an eyebrow when the twins came in.

“See you, Harry,” one of them said.

“Don’t let him get you down,” the other added in what he thought was a hushed tone.

“I won’t,” Harry and Snape said simultaneously. Harry grinned as Severus scowled.

The twins stared with open mouths. “Er, better go now. Bye,” Fred said as they edged out of the room.

Severus led Harry over to the Floo.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“Spinner’s End.” Snape gestured for Harry to go first.

Harry stepped inside and very carefully said, “Spinner’s End.”

He was gone in a flash of green. Severus politely said goodbye to the nearest Weasleys and followed.

---{}-{}-{}---

Harry stood in a sitting room that was appropriately dark though accented by an old woven rug. Its colors had tried to remain lively, but to no avail; the faded cloth gave the room a sad look. On top of the rug sat a couch and an armchair, equally drab. A large writing cabinet resided in the corner and a solitary window broke the right wall’s clean expanse. To Harry’s left was the door to the kitchen, as far as he could see, and a door opposite him seemed to lead to a small hallway. Harry jumped as the fireplace flashed behind him and Snape stepped out.

“I see you made it to the right place,” he said casually.

“There’s no mistaking it; this is the right place,” Harry said with repulsed air. “When was the last time this place was cleaned?”

“Yesterday morning, sir,” a squeaky voice piped up. Harry’s head whipped towards the kitchen where a small creature with sagging skin and very large ears stood. He was dressed in a tea towel. His golfball sized eyes turned to Harry. “I is Midgy, sir, at your service.”

Harry looked at Severus incredulously. His mouth twitched. “A house elf, Harry. She cooks and cleans here. She came with the house.”

“I will start dinner, sir,” she said and disappeared.

“She?” Harry asked. “Do you think she needs help?”

“Harry,” Severus said gently. “You don’t need to do chores here. She’ll take care of it.”

“I still might do a little,” Harry searched for a tactful way to say- “livening up.”

“As you wish,” Severus said indifferently but a little amused. “Come, I will show you around.”

The hallway that Harry had glimpsed through the door had a decent sized library at one end and the front door and foyer at the other. A set of stairs led off the foyer. They climbed these and Harry was introduced to Snape’s room, a bathroom and his own. He opened the door to his room hesitantly.

The bed was covered in green and silver silky sheets and a large wardrobe sat in the corner. A writing desk was pushed up against the far wall under a large window. Harry smiled. He much preferred this to his cupboard.

Snape seemed anxious. “Well? Is it to your liking? I can change the colors of the sheets or wallpaper with a quick spell, if you wish.”

Harry smiled, “Of course it’s to my liking. I lived in a cupboard, remember? And we may need a bit of red and gold in here somewhere...”

In a flash, the sheets had turned Gryffindor colors. 

“Thanks, Severus,” Harry said. “I love it.”

Severus gave a very small smile. “Good. Let us go down to dinner now.”

“Is it ready that quickly?”

“Midgy is very good, Harry,” Severus said.

Indeed, dinner was ready. The small house elf served them at the dining room table. 

“Thank you,” Harry said.

If it was possible, Midgy’s eyes widened to an even larger size than normal. Harry glanced at Snape to see if he had done something wrong.

“It is not common for someone to thank a house elf. They are like servants,” Severus explained.

“That sounds like a Dursley way of thinking,” Harry said in disdain.

Severus frowned. “It does.”

“Is that why she wears a towel?” Harry asked after she was gone.

“Yes. If they are given clothes, they are freed.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, wondering why more weren’t freed.

The dinner was delicious, almost Hogwarts fare. As soon as he set his fork down with a sigh, the dish wiped sparkling clean. Within moments, a piece of chocolate cake had appeared. 

Harry smiled. This was going to be a good summer. As soon as dinner was over, Harry went to his room to unpack. He did this in a hurry, noticing that his belongings seemed sparse in the spacious room. He set the stationary set that Hermione had given him for Christmas down on the writing desk. Harry sat and began his first letter to his friends.

It’s going to be a great summer.

---{}-{}-{}---