Harry glared at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest. Living with the Dursleys had been bad enough, but staying in the same bedroom as SNAPE! How could anyone be expected to endure that? The Potions Master was still deeply asleep but the man had a tendency to snore and not softly. Harry gritted his teeth and glanced toward the other bed as Snape’s snores increased in volume.

Dumbledore had left them here and gone to begin an Order meeting downstairs. No one outside of the Order (and Maia Snape) was to know Harry’s whereabouts. A silencing spell had been placed on the room so that if Ron, Ginny, or anyone else, stopped to listen at the door they would hear nothing. Dumbledore himself had warded the door.

A high-pitched whistle, coming from the other bed, caused Harry to cringe and pull the pillow around his ears.

Harry was tired but could not relax. Images of the recent events replayed in his mind every time he closed his eyes. It was yet another set of disturbing memories he wished he could forget.

A grunt and some smacking sounds came from the opposite bed and Harry rolled his eyes.

Snippets of the horror of the crash filled Harry’s anxious mind, taunting him. With nauseating clarity he saw the truck slamming into the car, the shriek of crumpled steel and the shower of broken glass, the car spinning into the guardrail and then over the embankment. The young Gryffindor’s eyes flicked open, his heart racing. Harry clutched the duvet, trembling all over, his mouth suddenly dry.

Snape smacked his lips for a moment and then the snoring began anew.

Harry remembered the smell of the rain and the raging storm overhead; torrents of rain pounding the outside of the mangled car. He closed his eyes trying to calm his nerves, but he saw Dudley sprawled across his lap, dead: his Aunt and Uncle, also dead.

A snort and some throat clearing came from Snape’s bed. Why can’t he just be quiet? Harry wondered, feeling anxious and tense.

Harry clutched at his head, remembering the harrowing ambulance ride and Fletcher pulling on his body while Snape set his broken legs. After that came the pain of Voldemort possessing his mind, then seeing Snape and exposing him as a traitor.

The abrupt silence in the room brought Harry back to the awareness that he wasn’t alone. Harry glanced over at the professor again, wondering why he had stopped snoring. Harry saw Snape’s chest still rising and falling, but the Potion Master’s face was contorted in a mask of silent pain. Harry looked away, feeling a bit guilty that he was forgetting that he was not the only one who was suffering. Snape had been stabbed because he had brought Harry into his home.

Harry regretted his rash actions from when he was in Sirius’ room. Sometimes he just got so angry that he couldn’t seem to contain it. Sirius’ death had hit him hard, much harder than he had ever imagined it could. Harry had only known Sirius for a short time but he had grown to love the man more deeply than he thought he could love anyone, except for maybe Hermione and the Weasleys.

A guilty feeling crept over Harry. He wished he hadn’t been so nasty to Remus and Tonks. They weren’t to blame for Sirius’ death. Snape was to blame. Harry’s gaze was venomous as it rested on his hated professor. Snape was the one who pushed Sirius to the limit, taunting him and pushing him, telling him he was of no use. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Sirius, thought Harry.

Feeling his anger flare, Harry balled his hands into fists of impotent rage and tried to focus his attention on something else.

He ached to see Hedwig again, to stroke her white feathers and look into her snowy face. He felt his anger dissipate as he thought about his beloved owl. Dumbledore had told him that Mr. Weasley would be getting his things, maybe he brought them with him to the meeting?

Snape started mumbling in his sleep, drawing Harry back to the present. Smirking at the professor, Harry knew that Snape would be mortified if he knew that Harry now knew that the Professor not only snored but that he talked in his sleep as well. I’ll have to file that away for later, thought Harry with a small smile.

The young Gryffindor tried to roll over to find a more comfortable position, forgetting that Healer Snape had magically ‘glued’ him to the bed so he wouldn’t ‘fall out’ again. Harry crossed his arms over his chest; glaring at Snape as the teacher’s snores began anew.

§§§§§§§§§

Ron and Ginny sat in the living room of Headquarters, horribly put out that no one would tell them anything. Two emergency meetings in less than twenty-four hours, it was unheard of!

Fred and George, now that they were no longer in school, had been admitted to the Order starting at this very meeting and were in the kitchen with the others, leaving a sullen Ron and Ginny completely out of the loop.

“Fred and George will fill us in for sure,” said Ron, as he slumped sideways in an armchair, one leg dangling casually over the side.

“Don’t be too sure,” answered Ginny. “They’ve changed,” she added, sighing deeply, frustration etching her youthful features.

“What! They’ve changed! What sort of nonsense is that?” Ron shook his head, chuckling.

“I asked them yesterday about telling us what happens after…since this is their first meeting, but they flatly refused. They sounded just like mum.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I just know it’s big.” Ginny got up from the couch and began to pace nervously before the hearth.

“Let me talk to them, Ginny. They’ll tell me,” Ron confidently replied, resting his head back against the chair.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I doubt it.” She then crossed in front of him and stopped, her hands on her hips. “I wish we could hear what’s going on. The extendable ears are worthless with all of the charms and wards they’ve set up in there.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” murmured Ron sleepily as he sat up and yawned widely, stretching his long arms out to the side.

“I bet it has something to do with Snape. He didn’t show up for the meeting.”

“So now you’re keeping tabs on Snape?” Ron asked, surprised.

“You don’t notice anything. You need to be a keen observer of things if you ever expect to be an Auror,” Ginny lectured.

It was Ron’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’ve been around Hermione for far too long. Maybe Snape is just sick.” He sat forward grinning. “Maybe he decided to move away and teach at Durmstrang or something!”

Ginny placed her hand on her hips. “Can we deal with reality here, Ron? I think something happened to him.”

§§§§§§§§§

“We’re all agreed then?” asked Dumbledore. “I will approach Maia Snape about becoming a member of the Order."

Fletcher grinned, showing uneven, dark nubs of teeth. Since Snape had humiliated him in front of the Potter boy and Maia, Fletcher had decided that Snape needed to be taken down a peg or two. He had systematically gone to each member of the Order and passed along that Maia was in the dark about her son’s past indiscretions. He would make the Potions Master pay for treating him like scum; he was going to give as good as he got to those who treated him poorly, Order or not.

Mundungus long ago decided that he wasn’t good at directly confronting those who treat him like dirt but he was quite good at making their lives miserable in any indirect way that presented itself. He prided himself in that ability.

Remus’ eyes flicked to Fletcher and he cleared his throat. “With all due respect, sir,” said Lupin knowingly. “She knows nothing about her son being a former Death Eater.”

Dumbledore considered this carefully before replying. “I shall talk to Severus first and be sure that he knows that perhaps he should tell his mother about his…past.”

Moody grinned. “If he doesn’t want to tell her, I will.” Moody nodded to Fletcher before gleefully adding, “As a service to the lad, of course.”

“That will be enough, Alastor,” chided Dumbledore in clipped tones.

§§§§§§§§§

“This meeting seems like it’s gone on forever. I wish I’d brought my Wizard’s chess set,” moaned Ron, lazily stretching out on the sofa.

“It must be close to being over. Dad needs to get back to work. His lunch hour is long gone.” Ginny looked down at the worn old carpetbag that her father had brought with him to the meeting. “I guess he didn’t need this for the meeting.”

“Huh?” Ron said, peering over at his sister through half-closed eyes. “It’s probably just his work papers or something.”

Ginny nodded and then pushed at the bag with her foot. It didn’t feel like papers. “Maybe we should just look inside?”

Ron sat up, stretching his back. “There won’t be anything interesting in there.”

Ginny nudged the bag open with her foot, peeking inside. “It looks like some things that Dad shrunk.”

“How exciting,” said Ron flatly.

She cast a glance back to the door and then opened the bag some more. “It’s school books...and stuff.”

“What?” Ron peered into the bag with his sister. Recognizing the textbooks he asked, “Why would Dad have this?” Ron pulled out miniature Gryffindor robes, which has a large tear at the shoulder.

“No idea, Ron,” replied Ginny. She pulled out a white dress shirt with a big dark stain near the bottom. “This reminds me of when Fred and George tricked Harry into opening that jar—”

“—that spewed grease all over him! Yeah, that was great!” Ron finished. “That stain never came out either.” Ron smiled. “Harry still goes on about that, saying that he’s going to make Fred and George replace his shirt, now that they’ve got Galleons to burn.”

Ginny smiled and reached in to pull something else out of the bag. “What IS Dad doing with all this junk?”

“I don’t know. Why would he carry around my school things?” Ron frowned, peering inside the bag.

“They aren’t yours,” said Ginny, blanching. She drew out a shrunken notebook, pointing to the tiny name written in the corner… Harry Potter.

§§§§§§§§§

Arthur checked his watch. “Are we done here, then? If I stay gone from my desk for much longer it’ll get suspicious. I also have Harry’s things to deliver.”

“We’re almost finished here. Leave Harry’s things with me and I’ll see that he gets them. I just need to cast a new Fidelius Charm to protect our information, since we have new members.” Dumbledore stood and drew his wand.

“Oh come on,” moaned Fred. “If Mrs. Snape’s going to be included maybe you could just wait until she’s ready and then do us all together?” Nodding, Fred looked to his twin who also nodded vigorously.

“Don’t be silly Fred,” said an exasperated Molly. “This information cannot get into the hands of anyone else, either by accident or on purpose.” Her eyes narrowed as she regarded her two troublesome sons. Shaking her finger at them she added, “You cannot tell Ron or Ginny anything!”

§§§§§§§§§

Ron and Ginny carefully removed the rest of Harry’s things from the carpetbag. Ron picked up Harry’s toothpick-sized wand, saying, “What’s Dad doing with Harry’s things?”

“Maybe the Dursleys wouldn’t let Harry keep the stuff at the house. You know how freaked out they are by Harry being a wizard.”

Ron felt his heart begin to race. “It doesn’t make sense, Ginny. Why now?” He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Something’s very wrong.”

Ginny nodded, looking a bit peaky. “We need to contact Harry, to make sure he’s okay.” She held up Harry’s lopsided trunk, her eyes widening as she saw it was completely smashed in on one side. She tried opening the lid but it was stuck. She sat it down with shaky hands, feeling lightheaded. “His trunk’s smashed up.”

Ron tilted the carpet bag on it’s side and heard something rolling around inside. “There’s something else in here.” Ron stuck his hand in the bag then drew it out in a flash. “Bloody hell, there’s something pointy in there!” Ron held out his hand, a tiny rivulet of blood standing out against the pale skin of his fingertip.

Ginny opened the bag more fully and carefully withdrew a tiny crumpled metal thing with jagged spokes sticking out at odd angles. “What is this?”

Ron moved closer and Ginny tipped the object on its side. A miniature white feather floated softly to the carpet.

Ron and Ginny stared at the feather in horror.